Alexandria sat on a large boulder, feet dangling over the edge and her toes dipped into the quietly bubbling stream that ebbed and flowed past her. Sunlight glimmered off the water's surface and the occasional fish could be seen as it swam with and against the gentle current.
She didn't know how long she had spent watching the world go by. She didn't know if was still morning, or if the sun had already begun its journey towards the horizon. But she didn't mind not knowing the time for it gave her a moment to think and to ponder the things that had happened.
A week had passed since Clarke's first arrival, a week had come and gone with little said between them both and Alexandria knew it was because she had shied away from the revelations, the truths, the memories locked away from her forever.
It was too much for her to make sense of all at once, it had upended her life, shattered her truths and introduced so many unknowns that she knew not how to handle the new hand she had been dealt.
And so she found herself seeking the silence and the solitude of a babbling stream, the gentle swaying of a mighty tree or the calming rows of apple trees as they stretched out as far as the eye could see.
And yet that silence sought, she could not find.
Alexandria took in a deep breath, she held it for as long as she could and then she exhaled in as steady a breath as she could. Perhaps that steadied her mind a little for her thoughts seemed to ease, just enough that she could think that little bit more clearly.
It was true that she didn't know how to broach the unspoken things that clearly existed between herself and Clarke, it was true that she didn't know how to broach even that which was spoken. Throw herself into work had been one strategy, picking apples, fishing, even simply taking Brutus for walks had all consumed her for the first few days. But that had meant the awkward and all too frequent bumping into Clarke as they both shared living space as much as they did working space.
Alexandria had settled for shirking away, taking the longest of walks to find the most secluded of places that she could find. If only to give herself time to ponder all that had happened.
But it was difficult, she'd be lying if she pretended otherwise for part of her so very much wanted to know. And yet another part, a stronger part, whispered a warning, whispered something in the back of her mind that told her to flee, to shy away from the past and to embrace what her life had become rather than turn back to the years she had forgotten.
Or.
Perhaps she had simply needed whatever length of time she had needed to understand what she now wished to do.
And so Alexandria looked up into the still bright day's sky. She marvelled at the clouds that barely dotted the expanse of crystal blue and she nodded, just once, to herself and to no one in particular. And then she slipped off the large boulder, her lower legs happy to be enveloped in the cool of the bubbling current and she began the all too awkward walk back to the river's edge, her pleated skirt hitched up just a little with one hand, her sandals clasped in her other.
The walk back to the homestead was uneventful save for the one overly rambunctious bird that swooped Alexandria twice. Though her thoughts were frayed he few servants she past, some with baskets of apples in their arms, others with clothes draped over shoulders or even with tool in hand, all seemed oblivious to the turmoil seemed to bubble within her mind.
In part she was thankful they didn't seem to know something disturbed her. Or maybe they were simply being polite, simply giving her space and quiet. But maybe she'd enjoy another's company, maybe she'd like someone ask—
"Come back, Brutus!"
The shout was something between exasperated, annoyed and oddly full of joy.
Alexandria's head snapped around and she skipped aside as Brutus flashed past her, between his mighty jaws something quite clearly not his to keep. But what stole Alexandria's attention the most was the flash of blonde that raced out from between a row of apple trees.
Clarke's face was a picture of humoured determination and exasperated frustration, but as Clarke rounded the last of the apple trees Alexandria saw those expressions shift to something a little more guarded as she came to a skidding stop.
There was an awkward pause as Alexandria found herself looking Clarke in the eyes. Only days earlier she would have found herself far too uncomfortable to speak more than a few words but that time alone, that much needed week of avoidance to simply organise her thoughts seemed to be enough to at least form her uncertainties into something less full of nervousness.
"Brutus causes trouble again," it was part guess, part assumption sprinkled between far too much experience in the ten years she had known him.
"He does," Clarke's lips twitched at the corners as a smile threatened to form.
"I can help, if you would like?" Alexandria didn't quite mean for her voice to seem as quiet as it did. And yet it did, but Clarke didn't seem to mind and so she found herself not caring either.
"I'd like that," Clarke said, and though it was perhaps a little stiff Alexandria saw the smile gentle across Clarke's face more freely as they fell into step.
They shared the silence for a breath or two, the only sounds to break their quiet their feet as they crunched against the summer grass. Though it only lasted a few short moments Alexandria found herself thinking back to the day she had first met Clarke, when she had been fishing and had stood at the threshold to their now shared homestead.
She hadn't known what to make of the revelations as they came one by one. It was odd to be the one half of something and yet not remember what that something was. Even Eamon and Agamemnon had noticed, or at least inferred something had existed. But they remained quiet, didn't pry, let them both be. And for that Alexandria was thankful. She didn't think she could have even put to words the thoughts and emotions that had slowly been taking hold in her mi—
"How was the river?"
She didn't mean to startle so easily but Alexandria realised they had both come to a stop under the shade of an apple tree. Clarke leant against its weathered bark and an eyebrow was raised ever so slightly.
Alexandria swallowed whatever thoughts had been beginning to swirl as she steadied her breath before speaking.
"Good," it didn't surprise her that Clarke knew where she had been hiding away. "Relaxing," Alexandria added with an awkward shrug of her shoulder.
She didn't quite know how to explain that she needed time. Truthfully, she didn't know what she needed, she didn't know what she was even thinking. Everything that had happened in the last week had made her so unsure, so uncertain of things.
"I don't think we're going to be catching Brutus any time soon," Clarke said with a wry smile as she gestured outwards.
Alexandria found her own small smile replacing the worry upon her own face as she looked in the direction Clarke pointed. In the distance she could see two servants in the midsts of trying to wrangle from Brutus yet another object not for him to play with.
"It appears so," Alexandria said as she looked around before deciding to lower herself to the ground with a quiet sigh, a sore muscle or an old wound giving her just the slightest of protests.
And so Alexandria found herself sitting under the shade of an apple tree, Clarke beside her and an awkwardly large distance between them both. But Alexandria didn't quite mind the silence they shared, and she didn't think Clarke thought anything of it either.
Alexandria had things she wanted to know, of course she did. She had questions she had always wanted answered long before Clarke had come into the picture, long before Athena had even begun to hint at that little something that had once existed. But it had never been her place to question, it had never been any past Commander's place to question. That was simply the way things had been for as long as they had been.
"I have been avoiding you," Alexandria said it as evenly as she could. There was no other way. She couldn't avoid the conversation forever and she knew the longer she put it off the more awkward it would surely become.
"I know," Clarke answered, her voice as measured as Alexandria knew her own to be. "I—" a pause, just for a moment. "I expected it."
Alexandria nodded to herself, she looked down into her lap, at her hands that were folded in front of her and she frowned, perhaps in an attempt to force her thoughts into something more concrete, perhaps simply to give herself something to do.
"Eamon is treating you well?" she needed a little more time than she thought.
"He is," Clarke answered with a shrug, her gaze guarded, her thoughts hidden from her. "It's been nice getting to know him, Agamemnon, the servants. Even Brutus," the last part was added with a kind laugh.
There was another pause and Alexandria watched as Clarke tilted to her head to the side, the motion perhaps unconscious as the woman seemed to consider her next words. It wasn't the first time Alexandria had looked upon Clarke more attentively than what could be considered polite, she didn't think it would be the last either.
She couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly she saw upon Clarke's face. It wasn't the fact that she knew Clarke had memories of them both, that had long since been accepted, but Alexandria saw something close to wisdom tinged with sadness. There were other emotions she in there that she'd have to ponder that would keep her up at night.
Perhaps it was a child-like thought, something she would have once been enamoured with when she had been a young second. But she found herself thinking of the simple fact that Clarke was Wanheda, that she had had a title bestowed on her that few ever had. Alexandria knew, too, that she had been involved somehow, perhaps that had been what set their shared lived down the path she now walked. And yet, for some unknown reason Alexandria couldn—
"How long have you been here?"
Clarke's voice interrupted her thoughts quietly, and though Alexandria knew the answer to that question she found herself taking longer than she should to think over whatever answer she was to give.
"Ten years," she said eventually, her gaze now squarely met by Clarke's own.
"Has—" Clarke paused, and Alexandria wondered what the woman thought, what she saw, if she had ever imagined meeting her again and if it was anything like what had come to pass. "Have Eamon and Agamemnon always been here with you?"
The question would at any other time raise red flags for her. Most knew not of the small hideaway tucked into the depths of the forest, those who now called it home former Commanders and retired handmaidens and servants, some wounded in service to the Commander, some too old to carry out the most strenuous of their daily tasks.
And yet Alexandria thought Clarke deserved as honest an answer as she could provide. If only because Clarke had come to live with them now that her duties to her people were fulfilled. It had beed ten years. Ten years of service, ten years of conflict, ten years of a life given so that others may survive. At least that was what Alexandria assumed.
"They were the only two Commanders to survive the removal of the flame for generations," Alexandria said after a moment. "I have none them longer than I have known myself," she didn't quite know what she intended her response to mean, but it seemed the most truthful thing she could say in that moment.
She hardly remembered a life before, perhaps she never really had a life before. She had been trained to accept her death would one day come with a blade between the ribs, an arrow pierced through a lung, the sound of her blood filling her throat and her gurgling breath the last thing she would hear. All those things she had accepted with whatever convictions a young natblida could possess.
And so it had been frightening, it had been disorientating to wake up with no memory of years, of lifetimes, surrounded by two people who would one day come to be the only family she had left.
"I hardly remember a time before my conclave," Alexandria said eventually, and she found herself taking in the way Clarke's eyes never wavered from her. "Perhaps I remember feelings," and she lifted her hand up slightly and she looked at her fingers as if muscle memory would somehow take hold, would somehow force her fingers to move as if they gripped a knife, a spear, a bow and arrow. "Perhaps what I think I remember are simply instincts, reactions honed through years of training with no real thought or desire of my own," something about the way Clarke didn't speak, didn't interrupt, didn't seem to act like her words made no sense, made Alexandria want to continue. "I remember my conclave," and Alexandria winced at a memory she didn't quite enjoy. "And then there was nothing," she looked around them for a moment. "Until this."
"I didn't know this place existed until recently," Clarke said, and Alexandria knew she spoke truthfully. She didn't know why she believed it, she didn't know how she did. But she did. Somehow.
"Most never see it," Alexandria said. "None ever hear whisper of it even existing," Alexandria knew it had to be kept that way.
"Yeah," and this time Clarke's eyes seemed full of a sadness Alexandria recognised all too well. "I know."
Athena woke to a gentle breeze that whispered through her tent. It was still early, she could tell by the birdsong that echoed out ever so quietly over the wind. It took her hardly a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimmed light, to the blue grey of the night sky she could see through a crack in her tent's roof.
She had thought it best to leave the homestead when she did, if only because she didn't like staying there when old dreams threatened to spill into her waking moments. And yet she felt as though she couldn't return to Polis. Not yet. She had things she wanted to do— things she needed to do. But part of her recoiled from them despite how hard she tried to force herself to even consider.
It never surprised her when she woke to thoughts already coalesced in her mind. It happened all too frequently now. Maybe she hadn't ever had a truly peaceful night's sleep in years, perhaps in a decade. She always seemed a little too fatigued for comfort, a little too worse for wear. But her memories told her that was to be expected. If only because she responsible for the lives of thousands, tens of thousands and perhaps even hundreds of thousands. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that her actions today could dictate the lives of those not yet even born. And yet that was her duty. Something she had never even trained for until it was too late to refuse, too late to turn away.
But all those thoughts, all those worries, all those uncertainties vanished from her mind almost as quickly as they had been recognised.
Athena sat in her bed, one hand ever so dutiful as it pulled a knife free from under her pillow before beginning the familiar motion of strapping it to her body, its place hidden from all but herself. A new scar seemed to pull at her muscles a little more tightly than it had just a month earlier but she discarded that discomfort for a later time as she began to dress, each motion measured, sure, precise and as lonely as the cold that enveloped her quiet tent.
It didn't take Athena long before she ducked out of her tent's entrance and into the cold of a still early day. She was thankful she had woken so early, she was thankful that the morning's heat hadn't quite settled in yet. That would come soon enough and so she took in a deep breath, she let it fill her lungs and she let the burn scream out in her mind before she exhaled and let her breaths steady and her mind clear.
Axios stood by her side, the man subtle stretching limb and joint as he woke himself from whatever guarded slumber he had been in while he sat outside her tent.
"It is cooler this morning," he said quietly and Athena looked up into the sky to judge for herself.
"Yes, Axios," and perhaps she welcomed the changing of the season.
"Word came in the middle of the night," he continued as he fell into step beside her. "They apologise for the lack of feast on your arrival."
"To be expected," Athena said, she hadn't given them any formal notice. "Have our scouts hunt enough for a feast in apology for the late notice."
Axios nodded his head in understanding.
Athena didn't mind the fact that her presence had been unexpected. Perhaps it was good, if only because it told her that she had been able to keep many of her recent trips as secret as she had hoped. She'd make up reason for her presence though, perhaps simply to inspect the surrounding villages and towns, to see their true state without them having enough time to properly clean, prepare and hide away anything that would normally be considered beneath the Commander's notice.
Maybe that was what this new chapter in the Coalition's history would become, one where she could guide each village, each clan into a prosperous place that need not worry for things small or large. Wouldn't that be a fitting legacy to leave behind?
And so Athena came to a stop at the edge of the plateau she had claimed as her hiding place in the heart of Trikru lands.
Below her stretched tree after tree of deep green. Rivers could be seen winding their way through the swathes of forest glinting in the still early morning. The occasional bird could be seen flitting through the sky and if she looked out to the horizon she could the the sun as it threatened to break free into the sky.
A mountain stood proudly in the distance, its peak high, its slopes ever enshrined in history. In the further of distances she could see a giant ring of twisted metal just barely hidden by haze.
Much like her decision to bring Clarke to the homestead, somewhere buried down in the forests below was a decision she would need to make, and though it was not something that would change her people's path forever, it was something she had been struggling with for far too long.
