Author's Note: Going to warn people that there's some significant violence in this chapter. It gets gruesome at one point, so be prepared.

Cover Art for the story is from the LexaRecovery tumblr. Stay strong together.

I do not own the television show "The 100" or make any claims upon it or its characters. Similarly, I do not own Frozen, its characters or any Disney characters or property. All these characters are used under the concept of Fair Use, and I make no profit or income from using any of them.

Our Fight Is Not Over

by Jo K.

Chapter 4: Out of the Tundra and into the Storm

So if you've got the guts mister

Yeah if you've got the balls

If you think it's your time

Then step up to the line

And bring on your wrecking ball

-Bruce Springsteen, "Wrecking Ball"

—O—

"What the hell is that?"

Lexa's frown only deepened at Clarke's words as the blonde looked through the spyglass at the scintillating curtain of light between the two Azgeda apparently guarding it. "I've never seen anything like that before," Lexa admitted quietly. "But judging from the guards around it and the tracks leading to it, it's most likely what we're looking for."

Clarke lowered the long tapered scope and turned her head to look at Lexa, being careful not to startle her horse with any sudden movements. Lexa's warpaint was present in its full glory, covering her eyes with its inky tendrils trailing down her sharp cheeks like feathers... or tears. "Do you seriously believe that story about a sorcerer who can open a door to different worlds?"

Lexa turned to look at her mate, allowing herself to smile slightly at Clarke; her blonde wife was wearing her own Wanheda warpaint, a design suggestive of black feathers stretching from her temples horizontally to cover both her eyes, leaving bare her nose and the space between her eyes to produce a stark contrast with Clarke's lighter skin and the oily black of the paint. "You grew up in space and came to the ground. Is it really so hard to believe?" she asked calmly.

"That's explainable with technology and science," Clarke argued. "But... magic? Seriously, Lexa?"

"Who says it is magic? Why not some form of science or technology that we have never heard of?"

Clarke nodded weakly. "I guess," she admitted softly.

"Those we captured certainly believed. They said they saw the door open in midair before their eyes."

"Yeah, after all those innocent people were sacrificed," Clarke added, unable to resist the cold shiver that ran down her neck and back. "If that's what magic is about, maybe we're better off without it."

"Maybe so," Lexa replied, turning back to regard the shining doorway on the tundra below them. "But we cannot afford to disregard it. Whether magic is real or not, the Azgeda obviously believe strongly enough in it to rebel against King Roan and kill dozens of people as sacrifices."

Clarke sighed softly, not wanting to alert the two remaining Azgeda of the presence of her and Lexa's small group of riders. "Do they really think they can bring Nia back from the dead, or is this just some kind of trick?"

Lexa shook her head. "Before I saw that... thing floating in the air down there, I would have said they were all delusional. But now..."

"It could be an optical illusion of some kind," Clarke said. "Like a hologram. A projected image. It might not be a doorway at all."

Lexa considered that. "What would be required to create a 'hologram'?" she asked quietly.

"It could be done with a small projector, a device smaller than a saddle. We had similar technology on the Ark." She frowned. "But the Azgeda shouldn't have technology like that. They wouldn't be able to use it either, even if they did have it."

There was silence for a few seconds before Lexa took in a breath, then exhaled it slowly. "Carl Emerson might, though," she said softly.

"Shit," Clarke swore softly. "I had forgotten about him."

Lexa turned around in her saddle to look at the warriors behind Clarke and her. "Four of you, make your way down to those guards. Take your time. Capture them alive if possible. Do not let them escape."

"Be careful around that light down there," Clarke added once she was sure Lexa was done. "Whether it's really a magic doorway, as ridiculous as that sounds, or just a trick, try not to get near it if possible."

Seeing their soldiers look to her, Lexa lifted her chin slightly and hardened her gaze. "Wanheda does not need my approval for you to carry out her orders," she said coolly.

"Sha, Heda, Wanheda," the warriors said quietly, understanding the need to not raise their voices as they began to dismount their horses.

—O—

As Harper drifted back from the embrace of sleep into the world of the waking, she became aware of intense green eyes staring at her. As her sight focused in on them, she smiled and reached out, resting her hand on her lover's left hip. "Morning, baby," she murmured, smiling at Zoe Monroe.

"Hi," Monroe replied, smiling despite the constant aching in her chest and throat. It and getting out of breath with any exertion were annoying, but it was bearable, especially now that Harper was back in her arms.

"Thank you for resting your voice," the blonde said, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Monroe's cute nose. "I make enough noise for both of us, anyway," Harper added, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

The redhead's lips parted as she smiled broadly and toothily. She tilted her head forward to kiss Harper's forehead, leaving unspoken the dichotomy between Harper's normally quiet, soft-spoken demeanor and the sweet blonde's shockingly filthy and enthusiastically loud mouth when the two of them were having sex. Hearing some of the creative things Harper spit and shouted while in the heat of passion sent Zoe's heart into overdrive, but it was also for this reason that their tent was far away from most everyone else in Arkadia. However, the two of them had grown to love having the feeling of more space to themselves, of being able to wake up, relieve themselves, take a bath and appreciate the feeling of being alive, of being surrounded by life and color and beauty rather than the constant presence of other people and an atmosphere of sterility, like they had endured for the vast majority of their lives.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," Monroe said, her voice still scratchy and weak.

"And you're thinking about doing it?" Harper asked, unable to conceal the eagerness in her voice. "I know Dr. Griffin and Dr. Jackson are wanting to start training people as assistants and nurses sooner rather than later."

"I think I'll try," Monroe said after a brief pause. "I mean, I need something to do so I feel useful while my lungs heal, and I'm sure as hell not able to carry out guard duties right now."

Harper felt her brown eyes start to water with happiness at the thought of her partner moving into a field less dangerous than being a soldier, particularly while Pike was still in charge, picking fights with grounders left and right. "You're not useless to me, Zoe, and you never will be," she managed to choke out, punctuating her sentence with a gentle kiss on Monroe's pink lips, still slightly chapped from the endotracheal tube rubbing against them for two days.

"I don't know if I'm smart enough or patient enough to be a doctor, but at least a nurse or a field medic or something, right?" Monroe said, half asking, half hoping. "That way I'm doing something constructive instead of just lying around here keeping your sleeping bag warm."

"Oh, you rat," Harper laughed. "That is a very important job, keeping our sleeping bag warm. My feet get cold. You know that."

When Zoe closed her eyes and shifted closer to Harper, tugging Harper tightly against her as well, Harper knew her girlfriend was trying to work through something in her mind. Rather than push, which likely would cause the redhead to reflexively withdraw back into the steel vault of her psyche, Harper instead lightly placed a kiss over first Zoe's right eye, then her left, before squeezing lightly with both arms wrapped around Monroe. "I'm here for you, Zoe," she whispered tenderly. "Whenever you want to talk about it, I'll be right here. I swear."

Harper had expected Monroe to stiffen slightly, maybe even pull away some, although she hoped they knew each other well enough for that emotional retreat to not happen again with Zoe. She was not expecting Zoe to utterly break down in tears, body shaking as it was wracked with sobs made painful by her damaged lungs.

"Hey," Harper whispered, holding on tightly and trying to offer as much support as she could to the brave girl she had fallen in love with. "Hey, baby, it's okay, whatever it is. It's gonna be okay. Shhh." When she couldn't stop Monroe's crying, Harper closed her eyes against her own tears, now sliding across her face where they were lying prone. She began to hum a nonsense song she remembered from her own childhood, a lullaby whose words were mostly lost to time and memory but whose tune was indelibly imprinted on Harper's mind. Her mother used to sing it to her when she was a child and scared of something—the dark, space, shadows, a shot, the list was long—and its melody always seemed to soothe Harper's gnawing anxiety and raw feelings.

For long minutes Harper held Zoe Monroe, humming softly and tracing little geometric patterns through the thin fabric of Monroe's undershirt as she held her girlfriend tightly. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, Monroe's body began to still, and briefly Harper thought her girlfriend had fallen asleep. But then she felt Monroe's body shift, and Harper opened her eyes to see red, injected eyes staring back at her, rimmed with tears. "What is it, Zoe?" Harper asked, her own heart breaking with sympathy for the young woman she loved.

Monroe's mouth opened, and at first nothing came out. She swallowed, then tried again, finally able to coax a weak, shaky voice from her ravaged throat. "When I thought I was..." she hesitantly uttered, "...you know, dead, I—" She closed her eyes again, for several seconds this time before she could speak further. "I... I thought I deserved it. To be dead."

Harper shook her head slowly. "No, baby, no..." she whispered.

Monroe nodded, shortly but sharply. "Yeah, I did," she replied, not wanting to argue but needing Harper to understand what she was feeling. "And I still do."

"God, Zoe..." Harper said, knowing how difficult it was to dissuade her girlfriend once she made up her mind on something. "You don't have to punish yourself!"

"Somebody does!" Monroe spat back, harsher than she meant, and when she saw Harper's brown eyes widen in surprise, she feared she might have just pissed off the one person she knew, absolutely knew was on her side no matter what. "I'm sorry, Harp," she muttered, her eyes shifting up to look anywhere but at Harper.

But no angry words followed, and Harper's arms remained firmly cinched around Monroe's short but strong torso. It was just the sounds of the morning dawning in the forest less than a hundred feet from their tent, and the soft rhythm of two people breathing quietly in the small tent.

"They didn't even fight back."

Harper blinked her eyes open at the words, spoken so softly that at first she thought she had imagined them, or maybe dreamed them. But seeing the anguish and regret in Monroe's green eyes told Harper the truth, as did those normally daring eyes nervously looking away.

"The army outside the gates here. We were killing them," Monroe said, her voice just above a whisper, "and they didn't fight back, not until the very end." Her reddened eyes slid back to look at Harper again. "It was so different than what we were expecting, from what Pike had been telling us, about how they were just waiting to catch us off-guard and slaughter us all. Even once it was clear we were killing them, they hesitated, like either they didn't want to fight us, or they couldn't fight us."

"They had been ordered to protect us," Harper said softly. "At all costs, I bet, knowing Clarke. And not just Clarke. If their Commander gave them a direct order, they're going to follow it." Harper shivered briefly. "She scares the shit out of me."

Monroe looked away again, her hesitancy to meet her lover's eyes a gesture both telling and terrifying to Harper. "Then I guess they were following orders," Monroe said. "Just like we were."

Harper watched the tears gather in Monroe's eyes. She stayed silent, just holding Monroe and trying to comfort her, telling her lover that she was right there, that she wasn't going to push her away or criticize her or judge her for any reason. Others on the Ark had been rude and downright ugly to Zoe because of her not fitting easily into what most people still thought of as masculine and feminine roles, and that was a large part of why the redhead had developed the fiery temper, chip on her shoulder and fearlessness bordering on recklessness that made up a significant chunk of her personality. Above all else, Harper was never going to judge Zoe, or expect her to be anything other than just Zoe Monroe.

When Monroe started crying again, Harper was ready, whispering words of love and support into her partner's ears, gently rubbing her back, placing soft kisses on her head and forehead while letting Zoe cry out the conflict and pain tearing through her body and spirit.

"They weren't going to attack us," Monroe whispered, agonizingly. "Were they?" she asked, looking back into Harper's dark brown eyes.

Harper shook her head, not bothering to hide her own tears when her partner broke down into sobs again as Monroe was faced with the sickening realization that sometimes simply following orders did not absolve one of stains of the soul.

—O—

As soon as the first of her warriors moved, Lexa knew the attempt to capture the Azgeda guards was going to fail. Consciously she hadn't noticed any one thing, any single factor that indicated the surprise attack was going to be unsuccessful, but her mind was already screaming at her to do something before the first arrow had been loosed and the first knife had been thrown.

"They're not going to get them both!" Lexa snapped, kicking her horse into motion without further hesitation. Clarke dug her heels into her horse's side without delay, already leaning forward and increasing her speed to catch up with Lexa as the brunette steered her horse down the rocky path toward the shimmering curtain of lights among the bloody stains scattered across the tundra below. The rest of the scouting party followed within seconds, trailing their leaders down the worn path along the side of the ridge.

By the time the two scouts noticed the horses on the bluff above them, one of the Azgeda already had both an arrow in his chest and a knife in his thigh; he drew his sword to meet the other Trikru warrior charging him, but his injured leg buckled, taking him down to a knee as he readied to meet his attacker.

The second Azgeda only suffered a minor wound to his right arm when the first arrow hit him, and the second arrow as well as the thrown knife missed him entirely. Instead of readying his spear to retaliate, though, he turned and ran directly for the billowing, scintillating wall of light behind him.

Lexa cursed in Trigedasleng—whatever word she used, Clarke hadn't learned it yet—and urged her horse faster, drawing her sword as she galloped toward the fleeing Azgeda furiously. But she was still several seconds away when the man, layered in white and brown furs and patchwork clothes, ran into the wall of light—

And disappeared.

Lexa's eyes had just registered that he was no longer visible through the translucent curtain of colors before they likewise saw that the shimmering wall of light was beginning to flicker. "It's closing!" she shouted, leaning forward, leaning her upper body over her mount's broad neck, coaxing as much speed as possible from the white mare.

Clarke's ears heard Lexa's cry, and she also noticed the colorful waves begin to waver, fade and flicker, like a screen beginning to go bad back on the Ark. Briefly she thought about being trapped wherever this gate led—and now she had to admit it was indeed a gateway to another place, after watching the fleeing Azgeda vanish after stepping through it. But then her eyes fell on Lexa's back, charging ahead at full speed toward the gateway, and Clarke knew that no matter whatever happened on the other side of that doorway, Lexa would be there with her. And that was enough.

Shifting her own weight forward and silently thanking Lexa for teaching her more about riding horses, Clarke spurred her own mount to go faster, grimly fixing it in her mind that wherever Lexa went, Clarke was going to be with her.

Most of the Trikru party made it through the mystical gateway before it finally collapsed, silently but with a brilliant flash of light that briefly burned itself onto the retinas of those who had not reached the gate in time. The four of them, along with the four warriors now on foot, slowly gathered themselves back together, shifting uncomfortably as they considered how their report was going to be received once they returned to Polis.

—O—

The first thing Clarke noticed when they emerged from the magical portal, only an instant after they entered it, was that it was now darker, with the sky no longer blue but now overcast and a dark gray that portended ill weather.

But then the cold struck her with the force of an opened airlock.

It was bitterly cold, colder than Clarke had ever experienced. Growing up on the Ark had given her some degree of tolerance to cold, as retaining heat in the metal structure of the space station was always an uphill battle, as it was surrounded by the ultimate chill of the void. But this...

This was cold sharp enough to make her lungs ache instantly, to make her hands sting and her neck burn from the bitter touch. All around them was the brilliant white of snow, the shine muted by the dark skies and the blowing snow around them, and Clarke worryingly saw no sign of shelter around them save for distant trees and mountains looming before them that made Mount Weather look as imposing as the tiniest of anthills.

—O—

Miles away in Arendelle Castle, Elin and Erin jerked upright in their bed, screaming incoherently, their long, straight blonde hair rumpled and mussed with sweat and the tossings of sleep thoroughly disturbed by nightmares that refused to yield and a burning sensation that something had changed... and not for the better.

—O—

The screams of battle jerked Clarke's focus back to her immediate vicinity. A pack of men and women, most likely Azgeda judging from the thick furs and clothes wrapped around them in the usual Grounder style, was charging them and the warriors who had made it through the portal, roughly a dozen of them, Clarke estimated hurriedly.

Her and Lexa's group looked to be outnumbered two to one, she noted angrily. So of course Lexa would charge them.

Most of their escort followed their Heda's lead, yelling, drawing weapons and charging forward at the approaching Azgeda warriors running toward them on foot, angling to hit the Azgeda at different points to hopefully split them apart into smaller groups. Four stayed behind to guard Clarke.

Turning her horse around and trying her best to ignore the cold assaulting her even through her jacket and pants, Clarke was the first to notice that the gate they had entered was now gone. She was also the first to notice the force of Azgeda charging them from their rear, a group nearly as numerous as the force Lexa and most of their warriors were now racing through.

"It's a trap," Clarke muttered to herself at first, then yelling, "It's a trap, Lexa!" over her shoulder, hoping the blowing wind would allow her words to reach her wife.

Some of the Azgeda stopped their approach from the rear, raising bows and loosing a volley of arrows. However, the wind was blowing so fiercely that as Clarke watched with nauseous fascination, the arrows' forward flight gave way to wobbling awkwardly, then flying ineffectually to their right as the powerful winds blew them off course.

Gripping the reins of her horse tightly and giving them a firm, long tug to still her mount, Clarke drew her pistol and aimed at the Azgeda archers, gathered together nicely in a small bunch. The sharp crack of her pistol was followed immediately by one of the archers jerking backwards and falling, with the report of a second shot having the same effect, then a third.

When she saw the Azgedas' drive forward slow, Clarke had her own horse take several steps forward as she lowered her pistol to the side. One of the Azgeda, a monster of a man, shoved his way to the front of their number, bellowing something in Trigedasleng; Clarke couldn't understand all he said, but it was enough to get the Azgeda moving forward again.

Clarke gave another firm tug on her mount's reins, then she held her pistol with both hands, aiming carefully before putting a shot into the brute's face through his garish mask, blowing part of his head out the back of his skull.

"I am Wanheda!" she screamed against the wind, pleased when the Azgeda began to inch backward at hearing her name. "Slayer of the Mountain, Commander of Death! All of you forfeit your lives by attacking me!" To accentuate her point, she aimed and squeezed off three more shots, felling two more Azgeda and hopefully wounding a third. When the Ice People turned and broke into a panicked run, Clarke allowed a fierce smile to cross her face. "Looks like this damn name might be good for something after all," she said to herself.

She looked at the group of four warriors mounted, holding station around her. "Three of you, hit them from behind, kill a few more if you can." After just a second, she added, "Take advantage of their cowardice," pleased as she considered how it sounded like something Lexa would say to their warriors.

"Sha, Wanheda!" two of the warriors shouted, with a third joining them just a split second later. The three of them sent their horses forward at a brisk pace through the snow, slower than they were running on the flat tundra but still much faster than the Azgeda fleeing on foot.

Clarke turned her horse again, in time to see Lexa lead a second pass through the now-thinned and scattered ranks of the Azgeda initially charging them. Lexa's sword nearly cleaved one woman's head completely off her body as the Heda slashed first to her right, then to her left as she carved deeply into the shoulder of a spearman trying unsuccessfully to unseat her from her mount.

However, Clarke could see a glistening sheet of blood on the side of Lexa's horse, standing out in gruesome contrast to the horse's white hide, and several seconds later, when the horse began to list to the side immediately after Lexa had trampled another Azgeda fighter, Clarke wasn't surprised when Lexa had to half-leap, half-roll out of the saddle onto the snowy ground as her horse fell over.

Clarke sent her horse forward, digging the heels of her boots into the dark stallion's side viciously as she steered toward her mate. She fired four more shots as she rode, targeting the half-dozen Azgeda making their way toward the fallen Lexa at full runs. Whether it was their shoes or their experience, the snow simply didn't seem to slow these warriors down, but Clarke's volley of shots put two of them down, one seemingly permanently and the other writhing on the ground in pain.

Clarke jerked on the reins to stop her horse between Lexa and the swarming Azgeda, removing her left foot from the stirrup to let Lexa hook her foot in it and pull herself up behind Clarke. "They have a wagon of some sort just ahead," Lexa said, her breathing accelerated with adrenaline. "With only a few of them guarding it."

"You want me to head there?" Clarke asked as she set her horse in motion again, wheeling to her left just before a spear flew through the space they were occupying seconds earlier.

"Yes," Lexa said, drawing a short sword with her left hand; her regular sword was still firmly held in her right hand, as it had been the first thing she had retrieved after she came out of her tumble from the falling horse. "They're trying to keep us from it, so it must have something in it."

Clarke did as her wife recommended, racing forward while following a path well clear of the melee first beside, then behind them. "You don't think it was just a trap?" she asked over her shoulder.

"It was definitely a trap," Lexa said, her voice deep and timbre bold with excitement, especially this close to Clarke's ear. "But hopefully we can turn it to our advantage."

As they closed on the wagon, Clarke could see several Azgeda move forward into a semi-circle to meet them, spears readied. Another Azgeda ducked beneath the thick cover draped over something that looked large and boxy, taller than the man now standing atop the flat wagon; as Clarke watched him, she caught a glint of something metallic in his hand, and something about it just felt wrong.

"Stop, Clarke!" Lexa shouted, nearly in her ear. In response, Clarke grabbed the reins and pulled back, hard, bringing their horse to a skidding stop in the snow, the beast anxiously panting and stepping. "Their spears are set against a charge," Lexa said, her voice calmer but still with a tone of command in it.

"They're not set against this," Clarke said grimly, lifting her pistol and firing several shots just a second apart, pleased when she saw three of the Azgeda fall to the ground. She kept count of how many shots she had left—three now—before needing to change clips; she needed to remember to find the shell casings when they were done so they could be reloaded later.

A roar and a scream from beneath the wagon's covering suddenly drew everyone's attention; the thick cover seemed to explode outward, followed by the largest animal Clarke had ever seen, covered with fur a dirty pale yellow but now smeared with crimson blood along its muzzle and broad neck. Numbly Clarke's mind placed the creature with an image deep in her memory of a land animal called a bear, but there was very little that old picture of bears from her school had in common with this behemoth.

A jerk of its upper body sent something furry and bloody flying, and it only while it was tumbling through the air that Clarke realized it was half of an Azgeda. What her eyes were more focused on was the shiny, distincively shaped object flying through the air with the body, separating from one of the mauled corpse's now-dead hands.

"Oh God, it's a reaper gun," Clarke said, her eyes snapping back to the pack of Azgeda before them, who were being torn apart by the killing machine, moving faster than Clarke could believe and shredding the warriors with a terrifying strength.

"Back to the others," Lexa said, her own voice shaky with trepidation. "Hurry, Clarke!" she said, sheathing her short sword so she could grip Clarke's waist tightly with her left arm. "Hurry! The azkripa will tear us apart with just us two fighting it!"

"Can we outrun it?" Clarke asked as she turned their horse around, sending it racing back to where the rest of the Trikru were finishing off the scattered Azgeda.

"No," Lexa replied flatly, holding Clarke tightly as the horse pounded across the snowy ground. "And something is different about that azkripa, as well. It seems faster and almost... berserk."

"One of them injected it with the Red, the same drug the Mountain used to create the Reapers."

Lexa felt her black blood grow disturbingly cold. "Are you sure, Clarke?" she asked, hoping her wife was wrong.

But Clarke nodded. "I saw him go beneath that tarp, probably where they were keeping it, and he was carrying on the injector guns they used to dose the Reapers. Then the wagon just... exploded."

"Shit!" Lexa swore in Trigedasleng. That word Clarke recognized.

"That's just bad in every fucking way possible," Clarke swore softly, her mind turning over the same implications as her wife's. "Bullets weren't very effective against the pauana."

"I expect they will be even less effective against the azkripa," Lexa said as they reached the rest of the Trikru warriors, now standing amidst the bodies of the Azegda's initial attack group. "Its hide and fat are thicker. It ignores arrows like they were insect bites."

Clarke stopped the horse and turned it around, only to feel Lexa slide off the horse, landing close to the warriors.

"Ready spears!" Lexa shouted in Trigedasleng. "They loosed a crazed azkripa upon us, its lust for blood doubled by reaper venom! We cannot outrun it, so we will kill it!"

To their credit, the Trikru moved to obey immediately, if a bit frantically. Four of them took position kneeling in the snow, with long spears pointed at the azkripa where it continued to butcher the last Azgeda close to the wagon. The Trikru tamped the blunt ends of their spears through the snow, trying to get as firm a grip against the frozen ground as they could to properly affix their spears for the bear's inevitable charge.

The other Trikru formed a loose line between the spear phalanx and Lexa and Clarke, who had now dismounted the horse to stand beside Lexa, her pistol in her hand again. She took a moment to eject the clip, swapping it for a full one now rather than have to do it the middle of a chaotic melee with the azkripa. She tucked the partially full clip inside a pocket on her belt, beside another full clip for her pistol.

Seeing Lexa examining her closely, Clarke smiled grimly. "I have my big knife on my right thigh," she said, enjoying Lexa's approving smile and nod at her preparation.

"You will probably want something with more reach, should it come down to that," Lexa added, her voice becoming more distant and analytical. She was having to fall back more into the cold, battle-focused side of her, the part that was Heda and bloodshed and ruthlessness through and through, to keep her emotions from overwhelming her with the burning desire to put Clarke onto that horse and send her away as fast as possible.

Clarke nodded after several seconds, picking up a spear from a fallen Azgeda and driving it into the ground, point first, leaving it standing up next to her. "Thanks for the advice," she said, trying to make her voice as light as possible despite the situation. "Do you have these things in Trikru territory?"

Lexa nodded. "Yes, but their coloring is different, brown or black. And they're not as large. Still bigger than a man, but not as massive as that thing."

A guttural roar drew their attention back to the polar bear. It was standing on its hind legs like a man, bellowing loudly, its muzzle, paws and belly now smeared with blood and gore. Despite the terrifying sight and what it indicated, Clarke found herself memorizing the image, fixing it in her mind to draw later, to capture the raw, otherworldly scene and the terrible beauty in the juxtaposition of the bear, the snowy plains now shot with blood, the tall mountains in the distance, the stormy sky above and behind.

It would make for an incredible picture, should she live to draw it.

The azkripa fell to all fours and began to charge at the assembled group of Trikru, all positioned behind the makeshift spear wall. With its size and speed, the creature covered the distance between them in seconds, driving into and through the fixed spears with snapping of both wood and bone, its great bulk overwhelming the men and their weapons with seeming impunity. As the bear stood atop two of the Trikru, mauling them viciously, several others thrust their spears toward the bear, with a few penetrating its hide around its shoulders but not seeming to do much damage. The bear lunged toward them, using a bushy paw to snap one spear and bat another away as it lumbered its way between several others, chomping its jaws onto a warrior's leg and jerking him back and forth, knocking two others to the ground using the dying man's body.

With a dark blur, Lexa surged forward past Clarke, using all her strength and momentum to drive a spear she had procured into the bear's torso behind its left shoulder, the force of the blow burying the spear more than half its length into the bear's body. She scrambled backward out of the creature's reach, but instead it bellowed angrily, rising to its feet again as it shook its head back and forth in fury.

Clarke lifted her gun, firing shot after shot into the thing's chest; after five shots without any appreciable effect, she raised the gun and shot four more times at its head, seeing at least two shots strike the creature due to small sprays of blood and tissue from their impact.

The bear fell forward, slamming its forelegs onto the ground as its turned its head to look in Clarke's direction. Lexa immediately stepped in front of Clarke, another spear coiled in her grip, but before the azkripa could take more than a few steps, a horse and rider slammed into it from the side, sending bear, horse and man all tumbling in a furry mess.

Lexa turned to see two other Trikru riders dismounting, running forward and taking positions beside her and in front of Clarke.

"We killed over half of the fleeing Azgeda, Heda, Wanheda," one of them spoke in English, a young but experienced warrior named David. "Then we heard the screams and came back."

Lexa nodded, recognizing the warriors doing their duty to protect their leaders. It was their duty, not anything specifically worthy of praise from their Heda, but if they survived this, she would remember their courage. She looked back to the azkripa, now being stabbed with spears and hacked at with swords by the remaining Trikru.

With another roar, the bear swiped out with a paw, nearly tearing one warrior's leg completely off, sending her sprawling to the ground screaming. The bear shifted, rolling onto its back as it met another warrior's swing of his sword with a lunge, the creature's powerful jaws snapping his arm with a sickening crunch before tearing the arm off completely. Blood stained the monster's dirty white fur everywhere now, making it hard to tell if it had been seriously wounded or not.

As the bear turned to attack, Clarke stepped forward and fired another volley of shots at the creature's head; the creature flinched, and as it did so Lexa and the remaining warriors charged it. The first Trikru to reach it stabbed at its neck, only to have the azkripa turn and lunge at him. The beast's jaws snapped short of his chest, but its swipe downward across his torso snapped his spear and rent his chest and pelvis horrifically; the great claws, each as long as a short sword, tore bloody furrows through skin, fat and muscle alike, eviscerating the man almost instantly.

Clarke felt bile rise in the back of her throat at the sight of the screaming man grasping at his entrails as he fell forward, his cries cut short by the azkripa grabbing his skull in its teeth and crushing it.

Then the bile in the back of Clarke's throat was joined by her heart, when Lexa stepped forward and screamed at the azkripa.

As if answering a challenge, the beast turned, still on all fours, and opened its mouth to roar its reply, but just as it began to bellow once more, Lexa shoved her spear down the bear's gullet, driving the weapon so deeply that she could feel its hot, bloody breath on her hands by the time she released the spear. She immediately jumped back, out of the way of the creature jerking its head in all directions, trying to dislodge the spear and remove the searing pain in its throat.

Lexa ended her roll kneeling, drawing her sword and pushing off the ground to charge the azkripa once more, this time from its side while it was distracted with the spear painfully lodged in its maw. As the remaining Trikru began to stab the creature with spears and swords on its other side, she delivered multiple powerful slashes, one after another, to the bear's throat as it shook its head back and forth, each blow slicing deeper and deeper through the fur and fatty hide, until glistening brown fat and pink muscle were exposed. The bear tried to turn toward her, but Lexa pressed her attack, now plunging her sword deep into the exposed tissue, slicing through muscle, nerves and blood vessels until she felt the sword strike bone and deflect downward. Then she used all her strength to half-cut, half-tear the blade through the azkripa's throat, jerking the weapon free with a spray of bright red blood from the bear's throat onto the snowy ground, splattering onto her boots before she could step back.

Clarke was motionless, both from terror at Lexa charging into melee combat with such a creature and from awe at her wife's prowess in battle. As the azkripa groaned once more, this time wet and heavy, it toppled forward, its bulk settling into the red-stained snow as its life ended. In contrast to the relief Clarke felt flood her body, Lexa continued to stand vigilant over the creature for several more seconds, prepared to strike again if necessary. Only after another minute without a hint of movement from the azkripa's body did Lexa step back and lower her sword.

It was then that the bite of the cold registered once more with Clarke, taking her breath as the rush of adrenaline began to wane. Lexa bent over the body of one of the fallen Azgeda, tugging his thick coat off of him.

"Get their coats and cloaks!" Lexa shouted in Trigedasleng to the remaining Trikru. Only four of them remained standing, in addition to Lexa and Clarke, but as Clarke watched, one of them fell onto his rear awkwardly, then toppled over to his side before stilling. "They may be Azgeda, but they are better prepared for this cold than we are!"

Seeing them remove the coats from the dead Azgeda, Clarke finally spotted one back behind her; however, before she could make her way to his body, she felt a firm grip on her shoulder.

"Put this on," Lexa said, her tone of voice indicating this was an order rather than a suggestion.

"You need one too!"

"I'll get one. Once you put this one on."

Clarke held Lexa's gaze for another second before acquiescing. She slid one arm into the ridiculously large coat, turning to let Lexa slide the coat over her wife's other arm. Lexa flipped the hood into place over Clarke's head, then she ran over to the nearest group of bodies to find a coat for herself.

"We have to find shelter!" Clarke called out to Lexa, walking over to meet the brunette as she tugged a large coat over her clothes, pulling a scarf from an Azgeda body as well. "Or try to make some!"

"The tarp and wagon," Lexa said, looking back at Clarke.

Clarke nodded. "It's probably our only chance."

Hurriedly they stumbled toward the wreckage of the wagon. As they plodded along, Clarke noted sickly that she could no longer feel her hands or her feet despite her gloves and boots, but she kept trudging forward behind Lexa. After agonizing minutes, they finally reached the wreckage of the wagon. Lexa grabbed the tarp, lifting it to try and block some of the blowing wind. "Help me lift this!" she called out. Immediately Clarke was beside her, but the two of them were unable to do much more than pull the tarp over themselves. Lexa turned to shout at the Trikru again, but no words came out.

Clarke turned to see what had kept the others, but the two prone bodies lying face-down in the snow answered the question for her. She struggled to her feet, despite the stinging pain making its way up her legs and down her chest. "We can pile snow on top of the tarp for insulation," she said to Lexa. "Then we can huddle together to share body heat."

Despite the bleak circumstances, Lexa's bright red face briefly allowed itself to smile. "That sounds vaguely dirty, my houmon," she said as she stood.

Clarke smiled back despite the stinging of her face, even behind a makeshift scarf, but when she tried to walk around Lexa to start piling snow on the tarp, her right leg refused to move, sending her sprawling downward. Lexa's reflexes were too dulled by the biting cold to catch Clarke, resulting in both of them in the snow, Clarke on her side and Lexa kneeling over her.

Clarke felt Lexa's strong arms grab her and lift her up to a seated position. She turned to thank Lexa, only to stop when she saw glistening trails of tears down Lexa's cheeks. The moisture was likely beginning to freeze already, but it was the sorrow and regret in her wife's green eyes that nearly stopped Clarke's heart.

"Hey," Clarke said as she tugged off her left glove.

"Clarke—"

"Shh," Clarke whispered, cutting off Lexa as she reaching into Lexa's hood with her bare hand, resting it on her mate's cold cheek. "Don't cry, Lexa," she said softly. "Yes, I wanted more time with you too, but we're together."

Lexa's eyes closed as she leaned into Clarke's touch. "We will always be together, Klark. Our bodies and our spirits."

Clarke felt the cold release its grip on her steadily, the biting sting of the cold giving way to a dull warmth that was a sad but heartfelt relief. "I love you, Lexa."

"And I love you, Klark. My houmon. My wife." She also began to feel the cold's grasp on her lessen, and she understood that meant their time was drawing nigh.

Lexa dropped to both knees in front of Clarke, tugging off her gloves to grasp Clarke's crimson cheeks one last time in this world. Their kiss was salty with tears from both of them, stinging both sets of lips, but neither of them complained as they spent long seconds enjoying the taste of each other's lips.

Clarke's sharp intake of breath made Lexa's eyes blink open, and the blonde's head tilting to the side to look behind Lexa set all of Heda's internal alarms off. She stumbled to her feet, nearly swearing aloud at how sluggishly her arms and legs responded, but she was able to draw her sword and stand in front of Clarke as the massive shadow of something approaching them through the fiercely blowing blizzard grew before their eyes.

Then everything went white. And then everything went black.

—O—

Lexa smiled happily as she floated, warm from Clarke's body beside her, away from the bitter, biting cold that had consumed them. Nothing was hurting now. The gentle sound of Clarke's soft, steady breathing reassured Lexa that all was right, that their spirits were indeed still together, still joined.

Images danced through her dreaming mind, images of Clarke naked in their bed, of Titus's decapitated body lashed to a tree, of Nia's surprised face when a spear had pierced her heart. Of twin blonde girls she had never met reaching out to her, of great white dragons made of pure crystal, of a monster that had once been a white bear but had been turned into a bringer of death. Of a teenaged boy turned murderer killed by the girl he thought he loved, sadness and determination and courage etched with tears and dirt on a fair face as it turned away from the dead boy and turned to Lexa, revealing a spirit so powerful, so defiant, so scalding that it burned away the cobwebs of regret and guilt Lexa had allowed to take over her heart.

Images of Clarke, shivering and freezing to death in the snow, but still smiling at being with Lexa.

Images of something vast, details obscured by the swirling wall of snow and sleet, displacing the blowing particles as it came closer, closer, until it was right upon them—

Lexa sat upright so quickly that the walls of the room spun around her head dizzyingly.

Room? She thought, until a crash from several feet away drew her attention.

"Lexa?!"

Lexa turned to see Clarke push herself up into a seated position to Lexa's right, clutching sheets and covers to her chest. When Clarke swapped hands to hold her own covers with her right and lift some in front of Lexa with her left, Lexa realized she was likewise nude beneath the bedcovers. Or least half of her was still beneath the bedcovers.

Lexa gratefully took the covers from Clarke, holding them in front of her chest as she watched a young girl stumble to her feet, still partially extricating herself from the chair that had fallen over with her in it as a result of Lexa's rather sudden awakening. "Where are we?!" Lexa shouted at the girl, who looked like she was thirteen or fourteen, with long, straight brown hair, wearing an ornate dress that looked new, as if it had been sewn just days earlier. The blues and yellows embroidered on the fabric were as vivid as glowblooms and blistersap, very different than the faded colors Lexa was used to seeing on most clothes.

The girl simply stood, practically trembling in shock, her face apprehensive to a powerful degree.

"Where are we?!" Lexa shouted again, trying to control her anger. Who had seen them unclothed? Who had brought them here?

"Lexa, she's just a kid," Clarke said softly.

"A 'kid' who has been sitting her watching us while we sleep," Lexa replied sharply. "Where are our clothes? Our weapons?" she said again, not as loud as before but no kinder.

The girl simply shook her. She opened her mouth and spoke hesitantly, stutteringly, but it was no language Lexa had ever heard.

"Our clothes," Lexa said, frustration mounting. She dropped the sheets, revealing her bare torso, lean muscles and small, athletic breasts. "Clothes," she said slowly, pointing to her chest with both hands.

The girl's eyes brightened as recognition bloomed across her face. She spoke again, more gibberish to Lexa's ears, then pointed to a large dresser against a wall. Laid out atop the elegant dark wood of the furniture were several articles of clothing, folded crisply and arranged neatly atop the polished wooden surface.

The girl spoke again, walking quickly across the room to point at a carved wooden table, this one made of a wood slightly lighter than the dresser but built with a similar simple style. On this table lay their weapons, each blade sheathed and neatly positioned atop the flat surface, along with a large sack that appeared to be at least partially full.

Clarke rolled her eyes when Lexa crawled over her, moving across the bed to the table containing their weapons.

"Really, Lexa?" Clarke teased, unable to keep from smiling at Lexa's rear inches from her face as the brunette finally stepped off the bed.

The girl said something else in the strange language before smiling and nodding to Clarke. She then turned and quickly walked out of the large room, closing the door behind her. Clarke listened but didn't hear the telltale click of a lock turning.

A metallic shrring told Clarke that Lexa had just drawn her sword behind her. Clarke turned to see a vexed look on Lexa's face. "Are you going to attack the bed, Lexa?" Clarke asked, her voice light.

"We have no idea where we are, we have no idea how we got here, and we have no idea if we are still in danger," Lexa replied coolly, pacing around the room, her slim body's muscles moving in ways that made Clarke's mouth water and legs reflexively inch apart.

"Well, I do know how hot you look doing that," Clarke replied, running a hand through her hair and grimacing a bit at how greasy it felt.

"I am not hot, Clarke," Lexa said, turning to look at Clarke despite keeping her sword just below a guard position. "It's actually comfortable in here."

Clarke looked around the room, taking in the wood paneling and stonework making up the walls of the room. There were a few paintings placed on the walls of the large room, mostly landscapes but with the occasional still life or portrait. A fire cracked and popped merrily in the large fireplace set into the wall visible beyond the foot of the large bed she and Lexa had been in, and Clarke couldn't help but smile as she threw back the blankets and slid from the bed. "I'm pretty sure whoever brought us here isn't planning on hurting us, Lexa," she said as she walked over the clothes arranged on the large dresser. "Not if they kept us from freezing to death. They probably removed our clothes and put us in bed together to help us warm up."

Lexa moved to stand between Clarke and the door the girl had exited through earlier. "We can't take that chance, Clarke," she said firmly. "Did you recognize the language she spoke?"

"No," Clarke said as she held a light yellow dress up to her chest. "This is beautiful," she said softly as she felt the softness of the fabric. "I haven't seen clothes this nice since Octavia's mom got floated." Seeing Lexa's unspoken question on her wife's face, Clarke added, "Ms. Blake was the best seamstress on the Ark. Some of the clothes she made were amazing."

Lexa's eyes shifted between Clarke's nude body, mostly covered by the yellow dress held up in front of her, and the dress itself. "It..." she started, only to stop and swallow. "It... would look nice," she managed to say. "On you, I mean."

Clarke's smile practically beamed. "Really?" she asked, taking another look at the dress. "I haven't worn a dress in years, not since I was a little girl." She looked up at Lexa. "Let's just say that paints and charcoal don't mix well with fancy dresses."

Lexa's smile made Clarke's heart soar. "I can imagine," Lexa said quietly, her arms finally relaxing as she let the sword drop to her side. "My little Clarke, ruining her fancy Skai clothes."

Clarke feigned a look of disbelief. "Oh, and I suppose little Lexa never ruined an outfit by playing in the mud or climbing trees."

"No, for me it was usually getting blood on them," Lexa said flatly. "Other people's blood." Keeping a straight face was no small feat as she watched the emotions dance across Clarke's face, but Lexa managed to hide her amusement. "Lots of other people's blood."

The look of uncertainly on Clarke's face finally broke Lexa's floodgates, and sputtering laughter burst forth from the brunette's lips as she grinned at her wife's confusion.

"You little shit," Clarke swore softly, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Lexa to show that her words truly had no bite or resentment behind them. The dress still dangled in Clarke's hand as she held Lexa, their bodies pressed against each other. "I love you."

"And I love you," Lexa replied as they kissed once, twice. "But it would be nice to have some clothes on when someone returns."

"Agreed," said Clarke as she stepped back and lifted the dress over her head, letting it fall down and over her body.

"You're wearing it?" Lexa asked, surprised.

Clarke nodded as her head appeared out of the dress. "You said you wanted to see me in it," she said slyly, adding a slight smile for good measure. "How can I deny you that?" Clarke turned, presenting her back to Lexa. "Button me up?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Now is not the time to try on clothes, Clarke," Lexa said, her face as disapproving as the tone of her voice.

"Actually, it's the perfect time to try on clothes, considering you're not wearing any," replied Clarke, matching Lexa's no-nonsense tone. "At the very least, I'm not going to be able to concentrate on anything else unless you get dressed," Clarke added, tossing the black shirt Lexa had been wearing earlier to her wife; from its neat appearance and clean feel, Clarke would guess it had been washed and dried while they were unconscious.

As she became aware of another pressing issue, Clarke turned to look around the room. "No way we'll be lucky enough to have a bathroom in here..." she said, walking away from the bedroom's main door toward a smaller door on another wall. She carefully pushed the door open, only to reveal an elegant bathroom featuring a toilet, sink and large bathtub, lit by a thin frosted glass window.

"Lexa!" Clarke called out, unable to keep from smiling. "There's a bathroom in here!" Hearing her lover move in the bedroom, Clarke quickly closed the door. "Uh uh! I was here first!" she said playfully through the door, laughing at the soft growl she heard through the wooden door. Out of respect for her mate, Clarke wasted no time emptying her bladder and quickly washed her hands afterward, pleasantly surprised at the running water in the sink.

When she opened the door, she saw Lexa's back, as the brunette had turned to face the bedroom's main door again, her shirt and pants now on and sword still drawn but held at more of a ready position instead of a guard position. "Okay babe, your turn," Clarke said. "I'll watch the door." She moved to the table containing their weapons, smiling when she spotted the holstered pistol, still attached to her belt, which had been coiled loosely and placed along with the other sheathed and holstered weapons. She removed the pistol, ejecting the magazine and checking how many rounds she had left in the clip. Seeing that she only had a few bullets left in the clip, Clarke frowned and began looking through the gear laid out on the large table.

Unlike the clothes on the dresser across the room, which looked to have been cleaned, neatly folded and sorted, the items and gear on this table appeared to have been left alone as much as possible. They were arranged carefully on the large wooden table, but there were still visible blood stains on some of the gear. Seeing a large bag and two smaller bags on one corner of the table, Clarke moved to where she could look inside the bags while still keeping the door visible in her line of sight. The larger bag held the gear she had placed in her saddlebags, along with what must have been items gathered from their fallen Trikru warriors. The first smaller bag she opened held the empty brass casings of the bullets she had fired earlier, neatly gathered together, Before she could look into the second smaller bag, the sound of the toilet flushing drew her eyes back up from the table.

Lexa exited the bathroom shortly after the toilet flushed, her sword still in her hand as she looked over at Clarke's new position.

"Did you actually put that down to use the bathroom?" Clarke asked, not entirely sure if Lexa had done so or not.

A hint of a smile crossed Lexa's lips. "Wouldn't you like to know," she replied calmly.

A knock at the door seized their attention instantly. Lexa practically ran around the bed to take position between the door and Clarke.

"Lexa, if they wanted to hurt us, wouldn't they have just—"

A raised left hand from her houmon cut Clarke off as Lexa leaned in close to the door, trying to understand the two voices speaking on the other side of the door. The voices were faint through the thick door, but Lexa's hearing was quite keen.

The first voice was still gibberish, seemingly the same language the girl who had been in the room with them had been speaking. But the second voice was surprisingly understandable.

"It's just a shield. We left all their weapons in the room with them at Elin's and Erin's insistence, in an attempt to show them that we meant them no harm. The girls say they can be trusted, but there's no point in going in there without some form of protection."

More of the first voice, still unintelligible.

"Just because they're dangerous doesn't mean they're not friendly. We're dangerous too. And these people were attacked in our country, by people who are just as unfamiliar to us as they are."

Another reply, this time shorter, from the first voice.

"Well, we need answers. Elin and Erin insist these two are here to help us. Freya herself only knows how the girls can tell that, but we're going to give these two the chance to explain who they are and how they got here."

When another knock resounded across the door, Lexa stepped back and shifted her sword into a guard position. "We are awake," she said loudly.

The wooden door opened slowly, revealing a woman who appeared to be around Lexa's and Clarke's age slowly entering the room. She had bright coppery hair, pulled back into twin braids that had been draped in front of her shoulders. She wore a dark green dress that seemed to flow and shimmer in the sunlight that filled the large room, with colorful silver and gold designs tracing the ends of her sleeves and the skirt's hem. A slim leather belt with colorful embroidery circled her waist, with a sheathed sword hanging on her right side. Most striking was the shield she carried on her left arm; it appeared to somehow be made entirely of ice based on its crystalline appearance and hint of opacity, as well as the sensation of cold Lexa could feel radiating off of it even ten feet away.

As the redhead spotted Clarke first, she smiled, and the expression seemed to swell the room even larger than it was. Clarke couldn't help but smile back despite the awkwardness of the situation. The radiance of the young woman's smile didn't fade in the least as she turned to her left and took in Lexa's stance, poised for combat at a moment's notice, although she did stop moving forward.

Lexa regarded the woman carefully. Her unusual shield remained at her side, ready to be interposed between the woman and Lexa's blade in an instant should that prove necessary, and while her smile appeared genuine, there was no easy way to gauge her intentions. The redhead did have a sword hanging at her side, but she made no move to draw it; in fact, the redhead's free right hand was instead twirling her right braid.

"I'm so glad the two of you are awake!" the redhead said gleefully. "I'm not exactly sure why I'm talking to you, because Safina doesn't understand your language and says you don't understand ours, but I might as well talk to you, right?" She paused, looking back over to Clarke but keeping Lexa in her peripheral vision. "Hopefully Elsa can come up with some way for us to understand each other, because something's going on up north, and we'd really like to know just who you two are and who all those dead people are and just what the heck that crazy-looking bear thing was!"

"We understand you," Clarke blurted out, only to get a glare from Lexa.

"You can understand me?" the redhead practically shouted, her smile somehow growing in intensity.

"Yes," Lexa replied sharply, her sword still unsheathed and ready at her side.

"But I didn't think you spoke our language!" the redhead replied, arms spreading outward in an unconscious reflection of her surprise.

Lexa noted the opening the movement of the woman's shield offered her. If she moved quickly, she could possibly cover the distance between them before the woman could recover from her mistake. But before Lexa's muscles propelled her into motion, the brunette remembered when she herself had tested two members of Skaikru in a similar situation to judge their true intentions.

Lexa loosened her grip on her sword and stood fully, leaving her ready stance and willing her taut muscles to relax. She and Clarke were not here to fight these people, who likely had already saved their lives by bringing them in from the lethal cold. They were here to deal with the Azgeda who had stolen Nia's body and this "sorcerer" who was helping them.

"My name is Lexa," she spoke to the redhead. "And this is Clarke," she said, gesturing toward the blonde with her empty left hand. "She is my houmon, my mate." It took all of Lexa's self-control to not smile at Clarke's self-conscious blush at that statement, all too evident on the blonde's cheeks. "And you I can understand, as you are speaking the same language Clarke and I do."

Now the redhead looked confused. "But... I'm not speaking your language. I'm speaking the same language that Safina, the handmaiden in here earlier, does."

Lexa and Clarke now looked at each other with similar confusion. "I can understand you perfectly well too," Clarke added. "Are you sure you're not speaking our language?"

The redhead turned to the woman standing behind her, hair a bright golden blonde slightly lighter than Clarke's shade; she looked slightly older, roughly in her late twenties or early thirties. "Arista, do you understand them?" asked the redhead.

When the woman Arista spoke, it was the same consonant and vowel mishmash that the first girl had spoken. Lexa shook her head.

"Again, whatever language she is speaking, we cannot understand," Lexa said, looking at Clarke to see her nodding in agreement.

The redhead's smile had been replaced with a look of consternation. "But she and I are speaking the same language!" she said.

"Can... Arista understand us?" asked Clarke, her mind beginning to grasp the edges of the situation.

The redhead shook her head. "No," she replied. "She says it sounds similar to some languages she's heard in other countries, but she can't understand it."

"And we can't understand her, or the girl from earlier," Clarke said, nodding to herself slightly. "So clearly we are speaking different languages." She looked back at the redhead again. "But Lexa and I can understand you, and you can understand us."

"So it seems," Lexa added softly.

"Yeah, it does," replied the redhead.

"So it has to be something about you," Clarke concluded.

The redhead considered that deduction for a few moments before her countenance brightened once more. "Well, whatever reason it is, I'm glad we don't have to draw pictures or something equally silly to communicate," she said happily. She pressed her right hand to her chest in a gesture of introduction. "I'm Anna, by the way. Welcome to Arendelle!"

—O—

Author's Afterword: I assure you that I have not forgotten Anna's age in this story. With Elin and Erin both being thirteen, Anna is thirty-three. But she still looks much younger, a side effect of the magic that embraces her and Elsa both. This is why she appears to be in her late teens/early twenties at this point, even though she's actually more than a decade older than Lexa and Clarke.

For those of you who have read my other Elsanna story "Feel, Don't Conceal," you'll recognize Arista as well as Anna's shield and sword. If you haven't, no worries, you'll learn about them soon enough.

I love the thought of the intense, take-no-prisoners Monroe being a secret romantic at heart (and probably embarrassed about that secret, as well) when it comes to someone she loves. I'm also entirely sure that Harper has a secret dark side that's explosive, passionate and unbridled when it comes to sex; she just needed to find the right person to let that part of her come out to play (and be able to hang on for the ride).

As for Monroe's breakdown this chapter, I don't think it's being too hard on her. In my opinion, NOT showing the aftermath of what she's done in service to leaders of questionable merit would be a much bigger affront to her character. She's loyal and brave, but that doesn't justify going along with mass murder. She's finally starting to see that her blind devotion to Bellamy isn't always a good thing, and Harper is definitely helping her work through this painful realization.

And Lexa is a bad-ass.

Thanks for reading! Will try to have the next chapter up in a couple of weeks or so.