Clarke stood in front of an open window, the sun warm against her skin and the wind carefree as it brushed against her face. The outside world was warm, it was hot, the sun beat down with more intensity than she was used to back where she had lived for years.

Life had always been strange for her. When she was a child she hadn't thought too much about life on the ground, when she had been old enough to know more she had wondered what it could have been like. And then her life had changed.

Things had happened, some she could control, some she could only influence and others she could no more change than a fish in the open seas. She had come to accept the things that had happened, she had grown used to the pains and the regrets and the uncertainties.

She smiled at an old memory, something she couldn't quite remember as clearly as she had once been able to. Its presence in her mind, however murky, was enough to bring a small amount of joy to her as she took in a deep breath and let herself begin to settle into the present. And yet she wanted to linger in the past for a little while longer, perhaps because she was selfish, perhaps because the past was bittersweet.

It had been days, weeks, perhaps even a month since Clarke had first heard of Lexa's survival, it had been enough time that the abstract of the idea had settled in her mind. But she didn't think she'd be able to leave behind the past. Not yet, anyway.

Lexa was gone, that was a truth she had long ago accepted. Alexandria was alive, that was a truth she still had trouble grasping. And it was hard, harder than it had any right to be for her to understand. Part of her blamed herself in some way for not being able to accept, part of her blamed herself for not wanting to accept, for wanting to hold on to old memories, too afraid to let go, too afraid to move forward.

Clarke had been giving Alexandria space, and perhaps she had been giving herself space, too. She knew they had become disconnected in more ways than just time and memories. She knew things were different and that she shouldn't even think they could be what they once were.

Clarke took in a deep breath and she focused on the beat of her heart, she focused on the slight burn of her lungs as the seconds ticked by.

And she knew. They had danced around each other far too cautiously for either of them to actually learn the other's rhythm. And that was a problem Clarke was determined to fix. But it would take time, it would take understanding and patience. But she wouldn't let this chance slip by, not when she knew what that had already felt like years ago.


Athena walked the halls of the Mountain, her hands clasped behind her back and her mind elsewhere as she lost herself to the shadows, to the flaming torches and the ever constant hum of people that moved about.

She passed warriors, some in hushed conversation with each other, some in more boisterous laughter. Many who noticed her presence bowed their heads in greeting, others who were more preoccupied were nudged by someone close to them and Athena returned each greeting with her own nod and acknowledgement. The Mountain was so very different to what it had once been. she had memories and lifetimes of fears that sometimes bubbled to the surface but she was always able to control those emotions when she needed to. But how, she didn't really know.

Perhaps it was because she was the first Commander in such a very long time that had never faced the Mountain Men and the reapers in battle, perhaps it was because she had only ever really known it as a place full of her people. But she didn't let herself linger on the why. Surely it would do her no good.

Truth be told, the things the Mountain truly reminded herself of, what it really made her remember, were things she could never share. They were the hardest of memories, ones she couldn't act on. Or ones she wouldn't act on.

She had long ago accepted that love was something that could be a strength as much as it could be a weakness. And yet the love she felt was unkind, it was cold, cruel, too close to her heart to give her any comfort.

Athena paused in her place as she came upon an old tapestry. It showed a battle long since fought between the Broad Leaf and the Glowing forest clans and she felt a memory tug at the corners of her mind, something the flame hadn't thought about for an age.

Maybe that memory that now resurfaced was the flame's attempt to guide her away from unpleasant memories, of too late realising that love was not weakness, that emotions she felt couldn't be acted upon for so many reasons.

She knew she had done the right thing by bringing Clarke to Alexandria, she knew she had done what must be done. And she knew that she had been the one to make that decision, no matter who had given her guidance in her quiet moments.

But it hurt. As it had hurt those who had faced situations similar and not.

"Heda?"

Athena looked to her right to find Axios looking at her, his head cocked to the side cautiously

"Axios?"

"You have been standing here for quite some time," he said quietly.

It didn't surprise Athena to hear that. At times she lost track of the passage of time when an old memory was conjured.

"I apologise, Axios," she said, her own voice quiet as she continued down the path, Axios ever quiet as he shadows her steps. "At times the flame speaks to me without notice of the world around us."

Axios didn't answer at that, but Athena knew him well enough to know he kept quiet only because he could sense her gentle turmoil, and not because he was rude or uninterested in whatever it was she said.

They came to a crossroads then, the path left led further into the depths of the Mountain, the path right higher up and closer to the living quarters of many who called the Mountain home.

Athena took a moment to consider what she wished to do next, and again, as old memories took hold she wondered how long they lasted, she wondered how much time passed her by. Through it all Axios remained quiet, remained constant and present by her side.

A shadow began to form in the corner of her vision, something that was calm, something that brought forth painful memories and the glow of molten gold in the firelight.

Maybe that was why Athena walked the halls of the Mountain, maybe that was why she retreated deeper into its depths.

"Rest, Axios," she said quietly as she looked up at the man, "I will be a while."

Axios took a step aside until his back was to a wall so that he could look down the path they had come and so that he would any approach from the path right.

"I will wait here, Heda," he said simply, the refusal to leave her be polite, full of deference and a little understanding.

And so Athena reached out and squeezed his shoulder in something a little too full of emotion before she turned left and began to thread her way deeper and deeper into the depths of the Mountain and into the embrace of a memory and a ghost.


The night had only just begun to settle over the lands when the door to the homestead opened. Clarke looked up from where she folded a pile of sheets to find both Eamon and Alexandria entering, in both their arms baskets of apples picked throughout the day. Eamon, his ever quietly calm and cheerful self nodded at her with a smile in his eyes before nudging the door closed with his foot as Alexandria stepped through.

It still was a surprise to Clarke to look upon Alexandria and the was she carried herself. To most Clarke was sure they would think the Lexa that had once existed and the Alexandria that now walked the lands were two very different people, but Clarke could see subtle similarities, things barely there that most might not ever recognise. But something in Clarke told her not to latch onto the things that reminded her of the past, but to instead reach out and try to welcome with open arms the things that were new, that were different, that defined who Alexandria had become in the years that had come and gone.

Clarke didn't realise she must have been staring until Alexandria coughed awkwardly from where she had come to pause by the main dining table.

"I—" Clarke didn't entirely know what to say, she found she never did. But she was thankful when Eamon walked forward, somehow pulled the basket of apples from Alexandria's arms and balanced on top of his own.

"I believe the horses have not been seen to," he said in an attempt to break the silence.

Clarke knew that a lie though, and she thought Alexandria knew, too. But Clarke saw the opening as much as Alexandria seemed to for both of them looked away for a moment.

"It would be good to see the horses," Alexandria said as she looked back her way. "Perhaps River needs a brushing?"

"Yeah," and Clarke smiled a little more carefree as she finished folding one of the towels in her lap before standing.


It didn't take them long before both women were walking through the small stables, the few horses at the homestead already settled for the night

"River has adjusted well," Alexandria said and Clarke followed her gaze to find River's head poked out and looking their way.

"She has," and Clarke smiled yet again as she watched River flick her head, the mare quite clearly having heard her name. "To be honest, I wasn't sure how she was going to fit in," and Clarke winced at the memories of River having nipped at any and all horses that would come and go at times.

"She has a strong personality," Alexandria said with a quiet laugh, the expression telling Clarke that River must have caused at least a little nuisance for her already.

"I'm sorry if she nipped at you," Clarke still found it so very odd when Alexandria laughed, when she smiled more freely than she ever had when Clarke had known her.

"It is ok," for some reason Clarke truly believed that Alexandria meant it.

They both came to a stop in front of River, Clarke's hand subconsciously coming up to scratch under her chin.

There was silence for a while then, Clarke perhaps happy to share in the company that she was graced with, Alexandria happy to scratch at the horse stabled beside River.

And yet there was a tension in the air, an electricity that vibrated under her skin that Clarke could feel. And despite how strong it seemed to her, despite how furiously her mind wanted to scream out something, she didn't even know if Alexandria felt the same.

Yet whatever Clarke wanted to say, whatever had been forming in her mind was silenced when Alexandria next spoke.

"How did we meet?"

It was a simple question, one that shouldn't be hard for Clarke to explain, to describe. But it seemed to come with such weight, such depth that Clarke knew it something more than a simple unknown wished to be known.

Her gaze moved from River and to Alexandria, the motion slow, perhaps a little fearful of what it might see in Alexandria's eyes, perhaps a little guarded for what it might reveal.

"Our people were almost at war," Clarke said and she made sure that her eyes never wavered from Alexandria's, no matter how intense the gaze became lest she wake from whatever dream she thought she must have been living. "At the time I thought it was more a misunderstanding than anything else," looking back Clarke thought her younger self a fool, so very eager to be right, so unready for the consequences, "if blame had to be placed anywhere then it was with us. It was our fault," she smiled something close to ruefulness. "I was captured by the Mountain," she continued quietly, now just a little unsure how much Alexandria remembered of Anya, of the woman who must have trained her since she was a child. "So was Anya," and Clarke paused, not to revel in whatever revelations Alexandria must have been experiencing, but to gauge her comfort, to see if the topic tread to close to a wound not yet healed or a memory still too raw.

"And that was how she was killed?" Alexandria's voice was tight, just strained enough that Clarke knew she hadn't known the specifics of Anya's death.

"No," Clarke said, and she found herself taking in the emotion that was expressed so much more clearly on Alexandria's face. "We escaped. We found out what the Mountain was doing to your people and we agreed to help each other."

Alexandria looked away for a moment and Clarke was sure she glimpsed a wetness in her eyes, perhaps a tear that threatened to spill.

"How did she die?" Alexandria's voice was strong, it held steady but despite that Clarke could feel the anguish hidden deep within her.

"My people shot her," Clarke didn't mince words, she didn't hide behind past actions or too gentle a metaphor. It wouldn't do Anya's death any justice. The woman deserved more. "They thought we were both coming to attack so they shot at us," Clarke found herself reliving those last few moments, she found herself looking back through the years. She hadn't thought of Anya in so long, at times perhaps she had forgotten her part in how her life had played out. And yet for some reason she found each emotion she had felt back then returning with as much clarity as she had first felt.

"Did she suffer?" Alexandria asked, and Clarke saw the tremble in her lip, she saw the pain and for a moment she thought of reaching out, of taking of Alexandria in some way, whether that be her hand, her wrist, her shoulder. But she didn't. She didn't think it appropriate. Perhaps it never would be.

She pondered that question though, she took the time to think about the grounders, how they viewed death, how much suffering warriors went through. Perhaps if Clarke had never come to the ground she would have thought Anya's death full of suffering, alone amongst enemies. Perhaps she would have thought it better if Anya's had been killed instantly, if the bullet had struck her head, her heart, had ended her life before she had the time to register what had happened.

But Anya had faced death with more dignity than Clarke thought she could muster herself. Anya had been given a moment realise her last breaths were soon to come and she had welcomed it with open arms just as much as she had welcomed certain death when she had lunged into the drop ship prepared to take on every single one of the original hundred that had been sent down.

And so Clarke didn't think Anya had suffered. Not in the way Alexandria meant.

"No," Clarke said, and she meant it. "She didn't suffer," there was relief on Alexandria's face, "her death opened the door to peace, without her sacrifice we could never have built what we had built together," Clarke whispered. "Our people would have killed each other, we would have wiped each other out and left the Mountain the spoils of war," Clarke paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "That's when we met," she didn't add any more to the story than that. She didn't want to overwhelm Alexandria more than she already had.

Alexandria smiled, the expression quiet and soft in the waning sunlight. Gentle creases formed in the corners of her eyes, somehow they made her seem softer, kinder than the woman Clarke had once known.

"I—" Clarke stopped herself from saying what she wanted to say. Perhaps because she was afraid, perhaps because she had fallen out of sync with Alexandria. But hadn't she decided she wanted to learn who Lexa had become? Who Alexandria was?

"What?" the question wasn't really anything other than curious, and it took a moment for Clarke to realise that Alexandria looked at her with her head cocked to the side.

"I hardly ever saw you smile," it was simple, Clarke thought it enough that Alexandria could offer more should she wish, or retreat back if she so desired. Truth be told, the only times Clarke had truly seen her smile were too close to some of the saddest parts of her life that she didn't let herself think upon them for too long.

It wasn't so much a blush that coloured her cheeks, but Clarke was sure Alexandria's face filled with a subtle hint of bashfulness as she looked away, maybe in an attempt to regain composure, maybe in an attempt to even out her emotions.

"I was remembering a moment I shared with Anya many years ago," Alexandria said eventually, her eyes a little lighter than they had been before. "Before I took the flame," she added before she paused, perhaps to recall, perhaps to find words to the thoughts. "She caught me stealing sweets from the cook and she punished me for it," Alexandria continued. "I—" this time it was her time to pause, and to Clarke it looked like Alexandria realised that the memories she recalled were perhaps a little darker than she had remembered, were perhaps not so kind, not so gentle to the soul. "They were for a girl I once knew," she said. "Costia," and Alexandria closed her eyes as if she were trying to recall a face, something she hadn't thought of for so long that it had faded and become foreign to her as all old memories seemed to do. "I suppose she is dead now."

Clarke didn't know what to say, she didn't know how she could reveal the things she knew of Costia. How could she?

"You know what happened to her,"Alexandria's voice was calmer now, as if she had already accepted the truth years ago.

"I do," Clarke would never lie to Alexandria, she promised them both that much. "Do you want to kn—"

Alexandria shook her head, the motion slow yet measured, sure, steady.

"Not yet," and Alexandria took in a steadying breath, her mind clearly having come to conclusions she wished not to dwell on just yet. "It is getting dark," she said. "Perhaps we should return?"

And with that Clarke watched as Alexandria gave her a small smile before she turned and began walking back to the homestead.

Clarke waited a moment longer, she waited until Alexandria had had slipped from earshot before she let out the breath she had been holding. It came out a stutter, full of uncertainty and frayed nerves and Clarke hated the fact that she felt more shaken than she had expected to fee—

River nudged her shoulder.

"I know," Clarke said with a quiet laugh, the sound a little sad to her ears. "I know," and she placed a kiss onto River's cheek. "You be good tonight, ok?"

River let out a sound that could only be described as something between a scoff and affirmation. But Clarke would take what she could get. She had known River far too long for her to expect anything else.

And so Clarke began to trace the steps Alexandria had taken out of the stables and back to the homestead, her mind analysing every little thing that had been said, her heart hoping Alexandria would be want to know more.