Next chapter! Lotsa stuff happens here, and most of the dialogue isn't until the last third of the chapter! Everything else is very important exposition and set up for future chapters, so it can't be missed! This is where AC elements really start coming in! Enjoy!
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Nothing Is True (Save For the Blood We've Shed)
Chapter Seven
Secrets
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Clarke was really getting tired of having things and/or people chasing her. From the moment she had landed on this damned planet, she hadn't had a single moment of peace to call her own! First it was the gorilla, then the Ice Warriors, and now it was a bunch of thugs! And, to top it all off, she was lost amongst people she was unfamiliar with, unsure of who she could trust (now more than ever before), and she had a feast she had to make an appearance at if she wanted to survive and help her people start new lives when they joined her on the ground. Something that would already be difficult as it was, because she knew that Jaha and the Council, her mother included, would arrogantly try to impose their own ways onto the Grounders, which she had no doubt would go very poorly indeed. Not that she could blame the Grounders, they had gotten along just well without any 'civilized' or high-tech 'help'.
Still, she was armed and armored, and Lexa had told her that she had the right and authority to eliminate or subdue anyone who defied the Commander's order and tried to do her harm or harassment. As the older girl had explained in great detail, Clarke would be so merciful as to kill them quickly. She, on the other hand, would do so as slowly and painfully as she could possibly manage. Quite happily, in point of fact, and Clarke by nature was disinclined to give her the opportunity, especially after the events of the day. So, all she had to do was bait her pursuers into the proper venue and ambush them. It would be a difficult fight, but hopefully they would underestimate her under the delusion that her gun was the only thing that made her a threat, and the slovenly way they dressed marked them as two-bit thugs, not professional warriors. It would also help a great deal that night was falling. It would be dark soon, which meant their line of sight would drop and she could use psychological attacks in addition to physical ones.
Spotting an older-looking building, one she was willing to bet was a relic of the old world, she adjusted her path to head straight forward. A building such as that would, likely as not, be left unoccupied by the city's people. Pulling the door open, she darted into its depths and began hunting for places she would be able to ambush and eliminate her pursuers. Little did she know that such actions would scarcly be needed on her part.
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A man known to most only as 'Azrael', though his true name was Muruta, led his team of Ice Nation covert warriors into the Old World building the blonde sky-chit had run to hide in. As the leader of the most elite and clandestine unit of the Ice Nation's military, Logos, he was spoken of in hushed, fear filled whispers the whole world over. It was also well known that he was the most rabid and psychotic of Nia's servants, and highly suspected that he was the father of her children. You put up a good chase, girl, but not even your gun will save you now. He mused to himself darkly. He and his unit had been here nearly three years, masquerading as a band of toughs hired by Falco for prestige and protection, although to be perfectly frank the legendary "Black Cloaks", as the rabble referred to the Senatorial Guard, ensured that no such protection was needed. Still, it was a solid cover and the vast majority of their time was spent whoring, drinking, and wasting the days away when they weren't training. To think that he, who had sired a daughter with the Queen herself, was reduced to playing the fool, bowing and scraping to a filthy civilian, and a politician at that!
Shaking off the old irritation, he returned to the matter at hand. He knew that his target had been declared the SkaiPrisa, the future Kwin of the world, an infuriating thought that made him want to paint the walls and ground red with blood and fill the air with delicious screams of enduring agonies. His restraint, however, was born of the fact that he knew his lover well enough to know that she would want to torture and kill the chit herself. Besides, Falco didn't know who he truly was, and wanted to give the girl to Nia himself in the hopes of showing initiative and receiving great power when Nia ruled all. The poor, deluded old fool. He looked forward to gutting him and the rest of the Senate in their precious Forum when the time came.
With silent gestures and body language, Azrael sent his men filtering forwards through the dark and silent rooms. She would never be able to sneak past them all and reach the entrance they had all come through, and opening any other doors or windows would alert them to her location instantly. There was no way he could fail, not when she had cornered herself like a rat fleeing from the cat that hunted it to ground.
Of course, like Clarke, he had no idea that one of the most lethal individuals to walk the world in two centuries, a warrior woman from a time forgotten in the ashes of the old world, was waiting for them within the shadows of the relic. A member of an ancient order that served freedom and free will above all things.
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Galina Voronina was tired, deep within her soul. Long had the Isu kept her alive, waiting in perpetuity for their 'perfect specimen' to appear and save the world. Her heart ached to pass on, to see her friends and forebearers at long last in the peace of the afterlife. She had hope within her weary being, for tonight was the night the person she had been waiting for all these long years had finally arrived. The dozen or so warriors chasing her would be no threat whatsoever. Even if her armor and weapons weren't so much more advanced than that of her incumbent victims, the Arts of her Brotherhood had been honed for millennia against enemies tat knew them intimitly. Combined with centuries of experience and that fact that her targets were both clueless to her existence and the nature of her arts, and she would be able to slaughter them with laughable ease, send the girl to the Grand Temple, and die in peace at long last.
Her first two victims slipped into the sideroom she had taken position is and passed below where she was poised, braced spread-eagaled in the ceiling above the center of the room. She dropped, hidden blades severing their spinal columns and killing them with silent, instantaneous lethality. Blades still extended and gleaming, wet with blood in the moonlight, she advanced from the room into the hallway. A swift stride laid another low, hand across his mouth as she cut his throat in a single, swift movement. Two more rounded the corner before her and she darted forwards, driving her blades up through the bottoms of their jaws and into their brains. She had to resist the urge to sneer and spit on their corpses in contempt. Even the Templar soldiers of her time, nowhere near as familiar with melee weapons as her current 'opponents' had put up a better fight. This groups arrogance and utter lack to true and proper situational awareness made them proverbial lambs to the literal slaughter. She had eliminated half their numbers in less than a minute, and they still had no idea of her presence. She had been hoping for a more challenging battle with which to exit the mortal plane, but one mustn't be picky about such things.
She ghosted across the house, eagle vision and perfectly honed senses roving in search of either another target, or the girl she was meant to protect. A quite rustle drew her gaze to a golden silhouette, and she watched with approval as it ambushed a red, driving a long, curved blade through its chest from behind before dragging it off into a corner. She might be a child, and horribly untrained and sloppy by Brotherhood standards, but there wasn't certainly potential there. Potential she knew would be developed to the fullest by the Isu and the genetic memories of the greatest Assassin line in history, a line that had produced such legends as Altair Ibn-La'ahad and Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Yes, this girl was indeed the pinnacle the Triad had sought so long. Slipping into the same room as the gold-shrouded figure, she first laid eyes upon her.
Tall, for a sixteen year old, with long blond hair and eyes as blue as the sky she had come from. Well-muscled and wearing modern (as of when Project Ark began) body armor. A long, parang style machete was in her dominant hand, and the other was busy securing the weapons she had stripped from her victim's corpse onto her person. Another prudent decision, in case her own weapon was rendered unusable or otherwise taken from her person. Plus, the daggers and shortsword she had just acquired would serve her far better in close quarters than the much longer blade of her machete, a fact she seemed to realize, for she wiped it clean and re-sheathed it on her back.
Surprising her would be unwise, she decided. Given the current situation, the Russian Assassin might receive a large-caliber bullet to the body, something that would be both ignoble and unfortunate. So, she would have to wait until the girl was inevitably discovered. 'Saving' her would keep the girl from shooting her off hand, give her the time she needed to explain who she was and why she was there. Then, she would turn Clarke over to the Capitoline Triad and meet her Maker at long last with her head held high.
Lo and behold, the leader and his few remaining men quickly located the prophesized hero, who put up a terrific fight, cutting down three before being overwhelmed by the last two subordinates, pinning her arms and forcing her to her knees before the leader.
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Clarke snarled fiercely and her teeth clicked audibly as she tried, and failed, to find purchase on the clothed, hardened length her captor had been grinding on her face. The men holding her chortled in response to her continued, violent resistance.
"You almost got me there, bitch." The apparent leader sneered, casually backhanding her across the face. The attempt to cow her, however, failed as she merely glared and worked her jaw slightly before spitting a glob of blood at him. "I'm going to enjoy toying with you. The Queen won't mind, she might even make you into a nice pet for the family."
"Yeah, yeah, keep yammering away, fuckweed. You Ice Nation guys really love to hear yourselves talk, and you lack any honor whatsoever, don't you?" the contempt in Clarke's voice was scathing as she sneered back at him. "I've already killed a half-dozen of you trash. Two or three more makes no difference to me. Once I return to Lexa, we'll see about your damn Queen."
"The Ice Nation is supreme!" he snarled angrily, shoving her onto her back and wrapping his hands around her throat, the insult to his land and lover making him irrational. Despite the lash of fear that coursed through her at the sensation, her taunts had succeeded in pushing him into pushing her, and action that freed her arms from their captors. Azrael squealed in pain, releasing her throat, as she smashed her knee into his crotch. A sickening crunch echoed as she followed up with a savage head-butt, badly breaking his nose. She surged to her feet, facing the two still-standing warriors with nothing but her fists against their blades. A fact that they naturally recognized, as they moved towards her with twin smirks and dark chuckles. She squared herself to try and break past them to freedom, but a flash of white and scarlet brought them to a halt before collapsing, revealing her savior.
It was a woman, that much was decidedly clear thanks to the gentle swell of her bust, and was older than her, though how old she couldn't tell given the hood that shielded her face from view. Dressed in an odd, yet excellent looking, combination of armor and robe-like garments, her features were totally shielded by the aforementioned long hood, which had a predatory, almost hawk-like appearance. Two long blades, slick with blood, extended from the underside of her wrist armor (vambraces, she absently recalled, was the proper name) made it clear how the pair had perished. Absently stomping on Azrael's hand as he tried to reach for a weapon, she addressed the newcomer.
"Mind cutting up some strips of cloth off of those two so I can tie this one up?" she requested, indicating the woman's two victims. She nodded silently and set to work, and within a handful of minutes they had the blond warrior bound hand and foot, a large ball of clothe forcing his jaw open to prevent him from biting his tongue off. Satisfied, Clarke turned to her newfound ally, eyes bright with curiousity.
"So, uh, thanks I guess. Clarke Griffin, and I owe you my life." She inclined her head gratefully, offering her hand, with the other regarded for a moment before clasping it in their own.
"Galina Voronina, Master Assassin of the Brotherhood. I've waited for you for a very, very long time, Clarke Griffin." The older woman responded with a distinctly Russian accent, and Clarke blinked at her as she continued. "I knew another Griffin, once. Good fighter, good Sister. One of the best Mentors I ever had. Her name was Skylar."
"That…that was my great-great-grandmother's name!" Clarke breathed in shot, right hand dropping to caress the butt of her heirloom firearm, which she really should have thought to use on her attackers earlier, before she frowned as a thought struck her. "But that's impossible, that was over a century ago! Even if you were somehow still alive, you would be decrepit!"
"My life has been extended against my will through artificial means. Only once you have taken your rightful place will I be allowed to pass on at last." The Master Assassin said solemnly, before her tone grew imploring. "Please, follow me. I want to show you."
"Show me what?" Clarke demand as Galina turned to a large coat of arms on the wall and drew the two cavalry sabers that hung beneath it from their sheaths. Clarke tensed instinctively, but the Russian Sister of the Brotherhood merely inserted the blades into the front of the crest and twisted the hilts. A soft grinding resounded as the crest shifted into another shape, one that reminded her vaguely of the pictures of the square-and-compass emblem of the Freemasons that she had seen in the Ark's database.
With a groaning sound the wall, and the fireplace beneath the emblem, split in two, swinging inwards to reveal a dark passageway beyond. Moments later, a humming sound heralded the activation of a sequence of lights all along its length, and Galina smiled at her over her shoulder. Curiosity now, mostly, out-weighing her caution, Clarke followed as the older woman began to descend into the mysterious depths, leaving a furious, still bound Azrael behind them. Not that either of them particularly care about his physical or emotional comfort.
"Does Lexa know about this place? About you?" she asked as they entered an elevator a few yards down the passage. "Are there more of you…Assassins?"
"No, to all of the above." Galina responded a little sadly. "It was not for me or even the Triad to decide if others are worthy of the legacy that we keep in trust. That honor and that responsibility lie with you alone. As for other members of the Brotherhood, the rest died during the war or in the initial years of the post-war world."
"I have so many questions. What is the Brotherhood, who are the Triad?" Clarke was truthfully far more interested in her ancestor, but had heard the pain in her companion's voice when she spoke of the past. It would be cruel to pry deeper and force her to relive the memories of those lost.
"The Brotherhood of Assassins, also known as the Assassin Order, and the Circle of Liberation, was founded long before recorded history. Or, at least, what history survived to my own era. We have ever been at war with our enemy, known as Templars (though they've had many names), for while my own order seeks to ensure the survival of the human race through preservation of free will, the Templars believe that humanity will only be safe if free will is eradicated entirely." Was the explanation, and Clarke had a feeling that it was the short version. "The Triad, or more correctly the Capitoliane Triad, is a group of three members from a race we call The First Civilization. They are the ones who have kept me alive all of these years."
The exited the elevator and started down another hallway, but both conversation and movement halted as the elevator hummed into movement again, rising back towards the surface unbidden by either of them.
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Lexa, though she would never admit it aloud to her warriors, was frantic with worry for the girl who had stolen her heart. Seeing the heartbreak within her when Lexa had told her the truth, the full details, of the Mountain Men had been painful, but now Clarke was missing entirely. Several guards and civilians who had been questioned during their search had mentioned seeing Clarke (or, rather, a blonde girl of her approximate description) heading into the older parts of the city with several Ice Nation toughs following along behind. Given how common her features were in the Ice Nation, it had been assumed she was a young, visiting civilian noble being 'subtly' protected by hired guards.
Now she and the Trikru she had brought from TonDC were scouring the indicated area with deliberate haste, intent on finding her and the Ice Nation warriors before something terrible happened. Something that would shatter her heart irreparably and doom her people to destruction. Not before the Ice Nation drowned in Fire and Blood! Lexa snarled mentally to herself, before pounding feet drew her attention.
"Heda, a patrol we questioned spotted the SkaiPrisa and her pursuers entering an old building not two minutes from here!" Kira and her twin rushed up to Lexa and her Generals, eyes bright with concern and excitement at their information. They had been pushing themselves hard, harder even then Lexa had, their desperation fueled by a sense of overwhelming guilt, born of their perceived failure to stop Clarke and protect her from her foolishness. As much as Lexa would love to take them up on the proverbial offer and vent her rage on them, she was mature enough and honest enough with herself to know that she had mismanaged balancing telling Clarke that she needed to know, and interfering with Fate.
"Good, lead us there immediately." She commanded, moving after the pair as they sprinted away. Soon enough, they arrived outside one of the oldest, untouched buildings in Polis. One of the very few totally undamaged building standing anywhere in the territory of the Thirteen Tribes. Quickly ordering all save her generals and the twins to surround the building and ensure no one left or entered, she drew her sword and led her companions into the building ,fully expecting to meet resistance. Instead, she almost tripped over a pair of corpses, both identifiable as Ice Nation by their pale skin and light hair, and the clan tattoos littering their bodies.
One careful search through the building revealed that every Ice Nation warrior witnesses mentioned was dead, save for one, and Lexa couldn't believe her eyes as Muruta kom Azgeda, called Azrael, was dragged before her, still bound and gagged. A man she had wanted to get into her ever-so-gentle grasp in order to make ever-so-gentle…inquiries of.
"Well, well, well. Muruta kom Azgeda, goes by the name Azrael, unnoficial consort of Nia, Queen of the Ice Nation. Father of her children, and head of the oh so secret group known as Logos. I can't wait to hear what you have to tell me." Lexa couldn't, and didn't try to, restrain a savage grin, one mirrored by her companions. Azrael and Logos were at the very top of their Most Wanted list, but they had never been given an excuse or opening to take them. Now, not only did she have and excuse, but both the excuse and Azrael had been handed to her on a proverbial platter. "Clarke really seems to be making a habit of doing this sort of thing to your people. Nia might want to quit while she is ahead. Or, rather, quit while she still has a head."
The Trikru chuckled along with her darkly at her words, while the consort simply glared hatefully at her. After a moment of grim revelry, Lexa moved on to the next, far more personally relevant topic. The moment she demanded Clarke's location, his eyes had flicked with unwilling, instinctive immediacy towards where two swords were stuck in the wall. Curious and confused, Lexa walked over and tried to twist one free. Instead, the portion of the crest it was imbedded in moved. Anya stepped to the other without prompting, and together they rotated the crest into another one altogether. The group watched with awes as the wall parted, once more revealing the passage behind it. While her generals immediately began making suppositions about Mountain Men plots and Ice Nation treachery, Lexa's gaze was locked on the emblem painted onto the floor panels of this new passage. A symbol she knew very well, for it was carved in miniscule above the lock of the chest belonging to Skylar M. Griffin, the First Heda and the founder of Polis itself.
"Enough, all of you. There is no treason or Mountain Men plotting here, no more than that which is already evident at any rate." She said finally, planting a solid kick into Azrael's side, and Anya resisted the urge to sigh as she continued boldly. "I am going forward alone, remain here until I return."
"Are you quite mad, Lexa?" Anya asked almost conversationally, standing with her back to Azrael and her mouth almost right next to the younger girl's ear. "We've no idea what is down there!"
"No, we might not at that, but that emblem is on the First Heda's chest. She and Clarke have the same name, and now Clarke vanishes into a secret passage, in the city founded by the First Heda, bearing the same symbol as her chest? This cannot be coincidence, Anya. One or the other alone, perhaps, but both together? No, more is at play here, and I must know what." Lexa responded, ignoring Anya's quiet gasp at those new details. She still seemed reluctant, but apparently understood her reasoning, as she commanded the younger girl to return hale and healthy, before stepping away. Lexa squared her shoulders and marched into the passage, doors closing once more behind her.
She was nervous and fidgety as she waited for the 'elevator' to arrive, and even more so once inside of it. She knew from her reading how to use it, of course, and it helped that there was only one button to use, marked only by the emblem (which was also on the walls and floor of the elevator), keeping any decision making exponentially easier. Now, though, she was eager, and she strode out of the elevator with some pep in her step. She could only imagine what she would see and learn here, what secrets and knowledge she would become privy to as (no doubt) the SkaiPrisa began to claim her rightful place. Lexa felt her nipple peak and crotch moisten as she guessed (hope, prayed!) that this would include claiming Lexa herself. She had had more than a few dreams featuring the blond in a position of power, either over Lexa or commanding Lexa to dominate others for her enjoyment, and it would be a lie to say she wasn't eager to experience either in truth. And not just a lie, but a damn lie.
So distracted was she that she almost got her head taken off by a powerful slash from an unseen enemy, longsword whistling through the air where her neck used to be as she bent over backwards in what people from the Ark or the Old World would call a 'Matrix'. Her own sword smoothly came up to parry a follow-up strike, and she caught the first look of her opponent. Despite the strange robe-like armor they were wearing, she could tell by their stance that they were a master swordswoman, an expert in the arts of war.
"Well, Heda Lexa herself, isn't this a surprise. I'm somewhat shocked that you managed to not only find this place, but get inside. Any particular reason I shouldn't just kill you now?" the figure asked, and Lexa settled properly into her stance, her reply intended to be one of sharpened steel. Instead, a third voice interjected, and Lexa's heart soared with relief.
"Enough, both of you. Galina, she's not an enemy but a friend, as you well know. She has been caring for me since I arrived here. Lexa, you can lower your weapon, this is an ally. In a manner of speaking." Clarke's tone was tart and both combatants looked over to see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping in irritation. Both sheathed their weapons and turned to face her fully, and she looked at Galina. "You were about to tell me why the hell I'm down here?"
"…Yes. What you are now in is called a 'Vault'. Specifically the Annapolis Vault, of which there are hundreds if not thousands, and all are repositories of the knowledge, technologies, and artifacts of the First Civilization, who created Humanity here on Earth." Galina explained, gesturing to the room at large. Even Clarke found herself baffled by all that she saw, to say nothing of how Lexa felt.
"Does that mean God isn't real?" Clarke blurted, getting surprised looks from Lexa and Galina before Galina started laughing loud and long. Clarke blushed brightly, both at the reaction and the amused comments from both women about her priorities. Surrounded by alien technology millennia beyond anything hse could imagine, she was asking about theology.
"Ah, forgive my laughter, Clarke. I laugh only because that is precisely the same question I, and many of my Brothers and Sisters, asked when we first learned the truth. I will tell you the same thing that was told to me: even the Isu had to come from somewhere. Even if they were created by another, more powerful race, somewhere at the end of the line there was an all-powerful being that began it all. So, my personal answer is. No, it doesn't mean that at all. I believe in Him, as do many others. Whether you do or do not is entirely up to you."
"What she says is true, but not in the least relevant at the moment. Theology and matters of faith can wait until you save the planet." A male voice boomed as the ethereal figures of a man and two women materialized in midair. Both Lexa and Clarke recognized their garments as those worn by ancient Greece and Rome, and indeed Lexa's Senate dressed much the same. "We are the Capitoliane Triad, or rather what is left of them. Memories, imprints, of their souls in digital form. I suppose you could consider us a form of artificial intelligence. I am Jupiter, and with me are Minerva and Juno. We've been waiting for you, Clarke Griffin. Waiting for centuries longer than you can imagine."
"Why? Why me?" came the whispered reply, and Minerva favored her with a warm and gentle smile.
"You are the culmination of millennia of plotting and genetic planning, created to be the one to save this world and your race, and lead them to become we Isu's succesors amongst the stars." She explained, and Clarke stared at her uncomprehendingly. Juno scoffed befopre flicking her hand at the silent girl. A wave of energy leapt forth and surged into her, and she vanished in a pillar of light with a hair-raising, blood-curdling howl of pure agony. Lexa leapt forward, intent on saving her from…whatever was going on, but was swiftly tackled and pinned by Galina.
"Stop! Juno is Awakening her blood, if you disturb it now then Clarke dies!" the ancient Assassin snapped harshly, resisting the Commander's struggles with no small effort on her part. The girl was strong and desperate, a potent combination.
After nearly five minutes of agonized screams and desperate struggles on the part of the two teens, the light finally faded to reveal a changed Clarke. She was naked, a fact that distracted Galina enough for Lexa to break free and rush over to the sky-girl, wrapping her arms around her just in time to catch her as she began to collapse.
Clarke was altogether different, improved, though her basic features hadn't changed. She was still blonde, wtill with blue eyes, but to their eyes she had aged nearly two years and been, well…perfected. Her hair, once curly and wild, was now a shimmering golden cascade, and her eyes seemed almost…ethereal, a brightness unnatural having overtaken them. Her body was more toned and muscular, even compared to her previous, admittedly impressive, fitness level. Her hips were a little wider, her breasts a little fuller and…there was this…aura, around her. An exuded field that inspired confidence and obedience.
"What…have you done to me?" Clarke's voice was tight with restrained rage, right hand tightly balled into a fist as she glared at the Triad, one hand resting just above her mound almost soothingly, anger overwhelming any nakedness-induced shame she might have felt.
"I've Awakened your Isu genes, child. Why a worthless human brat like you was gifted with even a single percent of Artemis' DNA, never mind a full quarter, is utterly beyond me." Juno sniffed haughtily in contempt, and Galina gasped audibly in shock.
"How is that possible? After so many millennia, having even one or two percent is outlandish at best, a mere five percent in a male creates a sage!" she protested, as if the Triad was not fully aware of these facts.
"That would usually be true, but Clarke's ancestor was the last Mentor of the Brotherhood. She came to us once she was pregnant, and we adjusted her child in the womb. Made her far more than human. When her child went to the Ark as a five-year old, we knew her line would be the one to lead the homecoming. Just as her ancestors guided the Brotherhood, and indeed humanity, for centuries." Minerva's voice was soothing, calm, even reasonable, but it did little to calm Clarke.
"So you're telling me I'm not human, because you people decided to play God with my entire family line?" she bit out after a moment, eyes dark with confused fear and anger.
"We did what was needed to do to save Humanity from their own selfish stupidity!" Juno snapped in response, and Clarke swelled indignantly, eyes flashing, as she opened her mouth to let loose a torrent of vitriol and abuse, but Jupiter intervened before the situation could devolve any more than it already had.
"Enough, the both of you. There is no time for petty squabbles. Clarke must be brought to the Grand Temple immediately in order to train her as soon and swiftly as possible! This is imperative!" he boomed, and Clarke snorted in amused disgust.
"Look, I really don't understand what is going on or why I should care, but I have more important things about. I have a feast in my own honor to attend. If I don't, I put every single one of my people who makes it to Earth in danger." She sneered, turning to leave, but Lexa of all people stopped her, face solemn. Ignoring her questioning look, the brunette turned to the Triad, eyes dark with emotion.
"As little as I understand of what is going on, I know that you must be The First Ones that the Prophecy of the Sky spoke of." She said evenly, and Juno snorted again. Staring at her dispassionately, Lexa continued. "The Prophecy was written by Clarke's ancestor, the First Heda. The only one who does not speak to me within the Heda's Soul. Given what we've learned tonight, I can only assume that it was you who directed her to write the Prophecy."
"Oh, well done, I hadn't though you would make that connection. Perhaops you will be of some use after all." Juno's tone was of honest surprise, and she glanced at the still-fuming and naked Clarke. "Galina, get the girl something to wear, please. A Master Assassin's robes, black with red, and a shoulder cloak with the mark of your Brotherhood in silver. Hopefully she will make enough of an impression that she can leave these festivities early and get on with saving Humanity from itself."
Once again, Clarke found herself baffled and angered over Lexa. Obviously, the brunette warrior woman was still hiding things from her, but what more could there be? She had already found out The Mountain was inaccessible, that she wasn't entirely human, and that her Ancestor was the First Heda! Not to mention whatever Prophecy Lexa was talking about!
"I'll explain everything, Clarke. Please believe me, I wanted to tell you everything, but it wasn't my place. It was…forbidden." Lexa told her softly, voice begging her to listen, to understand, and Clarke frowned at the sincere pleading in her voice. Lexa was not prone to such displays, she knew, preffering stoicism that emotional pleas. Which meant that she grasped just how significant this situation was to the older girl, nodding her acceptance slowly, she accepted the dark bundle of clothing from Galina, who showed her how to put it one, before halping her strap metal platers over stratregic weakpoints. Reclaiming her holstered, heirloom pistol from the floor, the only thing to survive the energy that had changed her, she restored it to its place on her thing. A quick demonstration of how to use her hidden blades without harming herself (and an extracted promise not to use them before she was trained) later, and she and Lexa were one their way back to the surface.
"Why couldn't you warn me, Lexa?" Clarke asked softly, and Lexa felt the urge to wince and whimper at how sad and vulnerable she sounded. The past few hours had not cast her honesty in the best of lights.
"Much of that I did not know. Suspected, yes, that you were from the line of the First Heda, but it was more than possible she was of a different family entirely. As for the Prophecy…I was not permitted to speak with you about it. No one was, that right belonged only to the First Ones." She explained, eager to make a start with clearing the air between them. "The Prophecy says that the Princess of the Sky would lead her people back to Earth and create a lasting peace amongst all tribes, and rule as Queen. It is…also said that she will take The Heda and the greatest warriors of her generation as her wives, and they will kneel by her throne as she guides Humanity to prosperity."
"No pressure, then." Clarke grumbled, but the contents of the Prophecy filled in a lot of blanks about how the tribes regarded her, how they looked at her with awe and reverence or hatred and fury. In fact, the survivor of the first attack upon her by the Ice Nation had said Nia was the 'one, True Queen'. No doubt they viewed her as a usurper, a threat to their Queen's rule, and thus to their people. From their perspective, Clarke could understand their attacks on her. She would do the same to anyone who posed a threat to her own, even if she couldn't stand the vast majority of them for a myriad of reasons.
"Clarke…" Lexa's voice was still soft, still vulnerable. Sighing silently, Clarke turned to her, and frowned as the Brunette refused to look at her. One slender finger traced along the warrior's jawline and brought her eyes up to Clarke's own.
"Lexa…I'm not angry at you. I made assumptions about the Mountain, and this whole Prophecy thing is obviously important to your people. I can't rightly be angry at you for holding things sacred." She said gently, and Lexa smiled at her slightly, hope in her eyes, and Clarke smirked despite a blush. "As for having a harem, let's play that one by ear, hmm?"
Lexa's mind blanked as Clarke pressed into her, tilting her head back and claiming her mouth in a deep, almost possessive kiss, and she felt herself grow slick and warm as she finally tasted her future wife. Clarke's tongue traced her lips briefly, teasingly, and she opened her own mouth eagerly, accepting the request for entrance, and as their tongues tangled she felt herself drifting blissfully. In the lingo of the old world, Lexa was, like many warriors, a switch. Taught to submit only to those stronger than themselves, while civilians like Costia were raised to be submissive to their partner. As much joy and pleasure as she received from dominating the crimson-haired girl, giving herself to Clarke would be even more amazing, if this kiss was any indication. She whimpered sadly as Clarke broke the contact before moaning as she was sharply spanked across the ass, and she gaped in horrified disbelief as the doors opened and Clarke winked at her with a sly gleam in her eyes.
"Now, Commander, let us discuss with your generals the plans for this party…" she said before exiting the elevator, and Lexa stared after her. She had just been left out to dry! Just like she always did to Costia! She fervently swore never to do it again unless Clarke told her too, for now she knew that pain for herself.
Grumbling to herself about ironies and karma, she followed her Queen down the hallway. Still, sexual frustration aside, she was glad Clarke was so happy. She knew that some conflict might arise over the wives portion of the Prophecy in the future, but for now she was going to eagerly await the expressions from her Generals and the other dignitaries when they witnessed Clakre's new attire.
It should be…entertaining.
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As I said before, this story is going to have a lot of BDSM elements, which I need to add to the tags on A03. Not only because I dig that, but also because (as I said before) I really see the kind of society that the Grounders have putting a lot of stock into that sort of thing.
Also, sorry this is posting so late at night, but my life has been really hectic. Not only have I been unable to continue handwriting ahead, but finding time to type up what was already done was just as hard. I hope, however, to stay on top of it :D
Also, still debating on what to do with Anya pairing wise. What do you guy think? Part of the Harem, not part of it...?
