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Warnings: References to blood, canon-typical fight violence.

Note1: I have adopted the speculative map created by ofhouseadama, which you can find here: http .com(slash)post(slash)139750531769(slash)ofhouseadama-hello-so-as-i-started-delving-into

Note2: I deeply apologize, but unfortunately my work schedule has become a nightmare, leaving me little time to write. I am running out of 'banked' chapters, and while I am hoping I can stay ahead and maintain a weekly posting schedule, I am not certain I will be able to. Rest assured, the story is mapped out, and I am writing as fast as I can, but unfortunately real life has other plans. I beg your understanding, and your patience; you all have been amazing and I don't want to let anyone down! I will do my best to post chapters as soon as they are available.

A hurricane lashed the coast nonstop for two days, the village locked within the grip of a storm fiercer than anyone could recall. Surging waves thrashed at the docks while the wind and rain pummeled the small buildings. The residents had boarded up their homes and secured their boats as the howling winds had first approached, and hunkered down in their shelters as the hurricane raged.

A loud knock on the rough wood of the small house broke through the noise of the storm and roused Lexa from her study of the sheaf of papers in her hand. She stood with effort and a grimace, swallowing down the wave of pain that washed though her. It had been three days since she had first woken up in the village, and her wounds were still raw.

She lifted her hand from the back of the chair, steadying herself and gathering her composure before she called out. "Min yu op." It would not do for anyone to see her so weak.

The door opened and Octavia slipped inside. The wind howled and she had to push a little harder to close it behind her. She stood in the doorway, shaking the rain off her braids and the oilskin cloak she wore over her armor. "Heda, the gonas on the picket lines captured riders approaching from the west. They bear no clan insignia, but are armed."

"How many?"

"Three. They seem rather young. Maybe the Natblida?"

One of the memories swirling through Lexa's mind clicked into place. Faces and names settled with certainty, and she felt a tiny thread of relief wind through her. Still, she needed to be sure…

"Did they say anything?"

Octavia's brows knit in confusion. "The boy that led them said they were 'seeking the Three Pillars'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It does." Lexa's felt the knot of tension between her shoulders ease. "Please send Luna's most trusted gonas to meet them and escort them to me right away. A small group; better to not be noticed, even if the storm covers their approach."

"Sha, Heda. Yaku will more than likely go herself."

Lexa's lips drew into a thin line, thinking of the Floukru warrior with the light hair and dark eyes. "How many more know I am here?"

"She's the only one. Luna says that her clan is not the type to ask questions 'when strangers wash up on the shore'. And she says she trusts Yaku with her life. She seemed to feel strongly about that last part."

Lexa turned her attention back to the papers on the table. "Sha, the Floukru did not build their reputation as smugglers by asking too many questions. As for Yaku…she was among the guards who kept watch over the Natblida. She was with Luna the night of her Conclave, and has likely risked death for her many times since. We will have to put our trust in Luna's judgement." Judging by the way her brows knit in confusion, Octavia knew there was so much more hidden in between the words of Lexa's statement, but she kept quiet. "Please tell Indra to be here when the riders arrive. That is all, Oktavia."

Octavia ducked her head in acknowledgement of the orders as she was dismissed, stepping back out in the storm. The moment that the door closed behind her, Lexa's legs wavered, and she steadied herself by holding onto the back of her chair as she embraced the pain, focusing on it instead of the disquiet that echoed throughout her mind. She carefully breathed in, trying to recover the emotionless mask of command that she wore like a piece of armor. Despite the turmoil within her, despite the absence of the Flame's whisper, despite the jumble of memories in her head, she knew what others expected to see in their Commander. It was one of her earliest lessons, and it was comforting in its harshness and familiarity.

Pain of one type or another had been a near-constant companion throughout her life. She had grown up being taught that it was the fire that would forge her, temper her. Yet none of the lessons she had learned in her past, none of her experience healing after the dozens of battles she had fought in, had wounded her quite as deeply as this one. The wounds of her flesh seemed almost familiar, compared to the raw edges of the wounds in her mind and her heart.

Shame and fear tangled within the pit of her stomach as she thought back to that first night. The last clear memories she had was of standing bitterly triumphant at her Conclave, her hands and blades covered in Shadjus. And then Titus, and the words of the Ascension ritual, and the bite of the blade in the back of her neck, followed by pain, and then the jumbled roar as a hundred voices and a million dead memories flooded her mind…

And then she had woken to Octavia and Indra standing before her, telling her that Costia was long dead, the Clans had believed her dead at their hands, the Flame likely corrupted by poison, and Polis awash in blood as Ontari claimed both her clan and her throne.

After that, everything had seemed fragmented, coming to her in flashes. She felt like a child, grasping at wooden blocks, trying to fit them together into a stable tower. Some things she knew were true, solid memories settling into place when she heard names mentioned, in the quiet moments when Luna answered her questions, or the silence when Indra could not meet her eyes when she struggled to remember: Meetings with clan leaders, offering them an alliance. Costia's bloodied head, delivered to her bed, and the grief-filled weeks that followed. Her armies gathered, marching on the North. Nia's smile twisting as she knelt to her, and the way her heart had seethed to put peace above the call for revenge. Anya's growled threats when she reported that a group of invaders from the sky had crashed in the forest, raging and destroying on the Commander's lands. The way the charred bones of three hundred of her warriors had crumbled to ash under her boots and she'd vowed to make Skaikru pay. The feeling of her blade as it slid smoothly between Gustus' ribs and into his heart. The bitterness and rage in her heart as she looked into the grinning face of a Mountain Man and made a deal with the devil. A spear jutting from Nia's chest. Looking upon a field of corpses in the morning mist, heart frozen in shock. These things seemed scattered, jumbled, but by their bloody nature and the pain associated with them, she knew they were true.

The others were more faint, as if from a dream. When she reached out to the memories, they flowed through her grasp like water, difficult to capture and make sense of: A blonde haired woman arguing against her until the rough wood of a table was at her back. Soft lips against hers, ending in a whispered "Not yet…". Pale hands wrapping a cloth around a wound in her palm, blue eyes bright in the candlelight. Those memories were ghosts, and the echo of gentleness-and even love-that accompanied them seemed foreign to Lexa. Blood, fear, and war she understood. Comfort, love, and hope seemed a distant mirage in light of her current nightmare.

Lexa sighed in frustration and shook herself out of her thoughts. Her people needed a Commander, not a troubled and defeated weakling. She could not afford to be lost within her own anguish when there was a war to fight. She turned her attention back to the papers in front of her, reading each report of villages burnt to the ground or people murdered for simply being loyal to her. She sat and read the dire news for over an hour, until she heard voices approaching from outside the house. She stood carefully and watched through the window as several cloaked riders approached the house, hunched over their horses' necks in the driving rain and wind. Indra and Octavia walked up from around the corner, and offered terse greetings as the riders dismounted.

"Indra and Oktavia kom Trikru!" The lead rider called out, a youthful voice projecting grave seriousness. "Does she live?"

"Come see for yourself," Indra replied, gesturing towards the house.

The rest of the guards collected the horses and headed off down the street as the smaller group approached the house, following Indra in through the door. The small group entered, shaking the rain off their cloaks. Lexa straightened her back and hardened the set of her jaw, standing as regally as possible.

As the riders pushed back their hooded cloaks Lexa's heart soared, unable to disguise her relief as Aden revealed himself at the front of the group. He met Lexa's eyes, and he sank to one knee in a deep bow in front of the Commander, drawing a dagger from its place on his belt to offer it up to her in his outstretched palms as he bowed his head. The two Natblida flanking him, a boy and a girl, mirrored his bow.

Aden sounded solemn, far older than his few years when he spoke. "Oso badan yu op Leksa kom Trikru, oso laik ridiyo Heda." His voice quavered at the end and his throat bobbed as he swallowed down his anguish. "We three are all that remain of the Natblida. Trenton, Celia, and Vilko spilled much natrona blood before they fell."

Lexa stepped forward, looking every inch the Commander, yet inside she could feel her heart break. Memories of the boy, learning eagerly at her feet in the tower, echoed within her as she stood before him and reached down to lay her hand on his shoulder. She claimed the dagger from his hands and placed it within the sheath fastened around her good leg, recognizing the swirled carbon pattern in the steel of the blade. With her other hand she gripped his shoulder in greeting, and rubbed her thumb against the rain-damp surface of his cloak. Tradition-and the painful lessons of the past-dictated that Heda should not show such favoritism or affection to a Natblida. It was weakness, only bound to end in heartbreak. But Lexa could see right through the boy, into the story his haunted eyes and heavy heart told.

"We will avenge them, Aden. It is good you all survived." The moment between Commander and Natblida was broken and she stepped back, allowing her young charges to rise. Her eyes shifted to the two Natblida behind Aden. "Josef and Apru, find Yaku. She is Luna's general, and will assign you quarters. Rest, and wait out the storm there, but stay alert. All of you have served me well. Aden, stay. You have earned the right to be part of what comes next." The two younger children saluted, and filed out of the small house back into the rain.

Lexa surveyed the three warriors standing before her. "The spies and scouts report that Ontari's warriors are making their way through the villages closest to Polis, killing anyone who will not swear loyalty to her in order to secure her grip on the city. She cannot hope to rule through fear and cruelty."

"We saw the aftermath," Aden said darkly, "There's already whispers that she's gone insane. There are some in the forest who try to resist her, but we have lost many, and the people are afraid."

"Who swears fealty to her?"

"The Azgeda armies. Yujleda and Sangkru both are strongly allied with her. They were promised divisions of Trikru territory and resources. Podakru has strong ties to the North, and Trishana follows Yujleda's lead. Those fleeing Polis say that Louwoda Kliron and Ouskejon are weaker in their support. They are afraid to go against their neighbors, but could probably be swayed if promised a stronger alliance."

Lexa's pride at Aden's information gathering was overtaken by her frustration at hearing so many clans listed. "She spills the blood of all the clans and all we can do is scatter before her." Lexa fairly snarled. "I am their Commander. I will not abandon my people in weakness. I should be fighting alongside them."

Indra's words were measured, a trusted general reporting an uncomfortable truth. "Heda, your wounds are severe, and we still don't know the effects of the poison and the removal of the Flame." Aden started at her statement, staring wide-eyed at Lexa. "The Coalition is broken, six weaker clans on the run against seven hunting them. Even if you could fight, we would end up dead before we reached the gates of Polis. Getting killed helps no one, Heda. Throwing your life away would abandon our people all the same."

Lexa worked her jaw in frustration, glaring at Indra but mindful of the truth of her words.

It was Octavia who broke the impasse. "Heda, Aden said that there are people fighting against Ontari, but they're scattered throughout the region. They believe you dead. But if we organize them, give them a reason to fight-"

"If Ontari learns Heda is alive, she will bring hundreds of warriors down onto this place. Not to mention the deception that Titus and Clar-" Indra stopped herself, but Lexa saw that same expression cross her face as when Lexa asked a question Indra did not know how to answer. "-that Titus has put in place will be exposed as a lie. If we have any allies left in Polis, they will quickly be found."

"Amin Indra, we can do this quietly. Send scouts and riders. Use the Floukru smuggling routes. You built this Coalition once, you can build it again. You fought for a new world, Heda, that you and I and all the loyal clans would like to have become reality. Remind them of that vision, and how Azgeda would destroy that world for all. They will add their strength to ours." Octavia's eyes shone in defiance.

Lexa was quiet for many long moments as she weighed each scrap of information. A terrible knowing filled her as she recognized that, once again, her decision would result in death. She reached to her thigh, removing her dagger with its wooden handle and ornately etched blade. She summoned her strength, taking a step towards Indra. Lexa grabbed Indra's hand and placed the dagger into it. "Ride. Your word will be as my own. We will rebuild the alliance among every clan we can. When Azgeda comes for us, we will drown their rage with a thousand warriors. And then we may finally have peace." Lexa's steely gaze flicked away from Indra's, meeting Octavia and Aden's. At that moment, something locked away deep within her stirred, and her lips moved before she could question the source of the words. "Because we deserve more than just surviving."

The hurricane moved on, but smaller storms lingered in its wake over the next several days. The weather was a double edged sword; it protected Lexa and her Floukru allies, but slowed the progress of their messengers. Trusted Floukru captains and scouts ventured out into the forest and the waterways, seeking out members of the loyal clans. The swiftest and most hardy riders fanned further out, spreading the warning of Azgeda's brutal intent and Lexa's offer of alliance. For some, it would be many weeks before they returned-if they returned-and Lexa would know if the furthest clans would answer her call. In the meantime, they could only wait.

The Commander continued to grow stronger, regaining her strength. The slash wounds that had marred her skin and parted muscle knit back together, as the fire in her veins caused by the poison's lingering effects faded. She insisted on working, arguing that she did not want to grow soft and useless, but Octavia found herself wondering if Lexa was attempting to live up to self-imposed-almost inhuman-expectations. She seemed uncaring about adding more scars to her skin. If her mind was still troubled by the absence of the Flame and the damage its removal had done to her memory, she did not outwardly show it, throwing herself headlong into organizing the resistance with stiff and emotionless resolve.

Luna's most trusted couriers began to arrive, carrying reports from Indra once the rainstorms tapered off. It had been just over a week after Lexa had first sent the messengers out. Lexa pored over them intently, often late into the nights, penning coded replies and strategy to Indra along with pledges of alliance for the most far-flung village leaders to read. On occasion, Octavia would help Lexa with her reports and correspondence, growing her command of martial and diplomatic Trigedasleng phrases as Lexa dictated her responses.

It was what brought them together in Lexa's quarters late in the evening while the rest of the village quietly slept, interspersed with the soft noises of the boats shifting in their berths at the docks. Octavia stood in front of the small fireplace, slowly feeding a sheaf of reports from their spies into the fire. Lexa was hunched over the table, marking hidden paths and lines of advance onto a partial map of Trikru territory and occasionally consulting a scroll opened at her elbow. Her hand stilled in the middle of drawing an arrow past the Mounon…

For a moment, Lexa did not feel like she was in the same room, lost in another emerging memory. She felt as if her face was covered with still-hot blood spatter, her hand trembling on the pommel of her sword as she held back tears, staring into wide blue eyes as her mouth choked on words of betrayal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to find herself back in the small Floukru house. Her fingers closed around the pencil in her hand, willing it to stop shaking as yet another missing piece clicked into place within the tangled web of her mind.

"Oktavia, who is Clarke kom Skaikru?" Her mouth was dry as she posed the question.

Octavia froze, holding a sheet of paper above the flames. Lexa watched as the Skaikru woman pulled her hand back and turned to look at directly at her. Her eyes studied Lexa for a moment and her shoulders stiffened as she contemplated her words. Lexa knew that her own unease unsettled the other woman.

"Indra didn't tell you?"

"She did. One of the first Skaikru to come down to the ground, who emerged as a leader within her clan. The Trikru call her Wanheda, Mountain Slayer, after the Battle of the Mounon. She is the Skaikru ambassador, and her mother is the Skaikru's leader."

"Sha, Heda…" Octavia's tone was cautious. "What more do you want to know?"

Long moments of silence followed as Lexa turned the pencil over in her hands. "These are facts, yet there seems to be more behind them when I…when I remember them, and I do not know what it means." She sighed, and dropped the pencil onto the table.

"I don't understand."

"Were we…Was she… more?" Lexa blurted, the storm within her battering down the restraints that kept the words inside.

Octavia swallowed, recalling what she had seen in Polis. Once again she was caught between two worlds, struggling with the expectations of a subordinate warrior speaking to her leader, and her blunt inner nature. "Heda, I don't think that I should be the one-"

"No. You are the Fleimkepa now, Oktavia," Lexa softly chided. "Your counsel is valued, and you are permitted to speak your mind behind closed doors. Our people have trusted you with the Flame, their sacred symbol. I trust you to tell me the truth."

Octavia sighed, running her free hand through her hair. "I don't know. She never told me if there was anything more. I think...she was drawn to you, in a way." She laughed bitterly. "You listened to her counsel, after the Skaikru massacre. She defended you, just before the rebellion, when we were in Polis. Back then I thought that she was being irrational. That she just wanted to be treated better than the rest of us. But maybe she was right after all."

There was another long pause as Lexa contemplated Octavia's words, mulling them over. "Where is Clarke now?"

"She stayed behind in Polis. She said she needed to ensure you had time to form a resistance to Ontari." Octavia's gaze dropped. "We haven't received any word from the few contacts we have in Polis if she's alive or…not."

Lexa's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly at the news. She covered up the gesture by busying herself with rolling up the scroll beside her. "Mochof, Oktavia. I think it is time we retire for the evening. The next couriers will likely reach the village before midmorning, and I would like to spar in the training ring before they arrive."

"Reshop, Heda." Octavia ducked her head in a salute, recognizing the formal turn in Lexa's voice. Whatever troubled Lexa, Octavia knew she could not be the one to help. Part of her regretted not asking Clarke, regretted being too blind to see the signs, but she gained nothing in such wishes. She bit her lower lip, and made her way out of the door and into the night.

Octavia's eyes snapped open at the first sound outside her door. She had a knife in her left hand before she'd fully risen out of the chair she'd been sleeping in, rushing to the doorway in two long strides. She yanked the door open with her free hand, hiding the blade in her other out of sight behind the wood, but ready to strike. She narrowed her eyes so that the early morning light would not blind her and give the unknown intruder an advantage…

Indra stood in front of her, the older woman's hand poised in midair, about to knock. Her eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly recovered, looking Octavia up and down with a critical eye as her arm returned to her side.

"Yu belaik skrish, seken."

"Good morning to you too," Octavia replied. She returned the knife to its place in the sheath at her belt. "Heda keeps late hours."

"At least you slept in your armor," Indra said firmly. "You have not forgotten all of my teachings now that you're Fleimkepa."

"But I'm still your seken," Octavia reached back into the room to grab her jacket and sword in its scabbard, shrugging into them as she stepped out of the doorway into the street alongside Indra.

"A Fleimkepa second. No tradition is safe from Skaikru influence." Indra's words were not unkind, but were certainly to the point.

"I didn't see you taking the box when we were in that tower." Octavia could be just as blunt as her teacher.

Indra's smile was wolfish. "My duty lies elsewhere, Oktavia. With my people, on the battlefield. It is much simpler than trying to understand the Keryon kom Heda. I prefer wrestling with what I can see. Besides," she turned her back to the younger woman and started down the street in the direction of the training grounds, her voice gruff, "you are a good choice, even if it was made out of necessity. You have a foot on both the sky and the ground. Like the Flame, you are of two places."

Octavia nearly stumbled over her own feet as the weight of Indra's words hit her like a hammer. Her hand briefly drifted to the small lump in her jacket pocket, tracing the lines of the box there. She'd been too busy trying not to get killed and then too busy with the frantic business of starting a rebellion to even begin to think about what it meant that she carried that box.

She covered up her surprise, pushing the thoughts that Indra had triggered to the back of her mind where they lay restless and heavy. "I didn't expect you to be here today, just the usual messenger."

"My last messenger did not make it through. Ontari has put a bounty on the head of any rider carrying Trikru messages." She fairly spat the name as it left her lips. "I decided to come instead to give my report."

They rounded the corner of the last block of houses at the outer edge of the village. Before them was a wide, sandy beach, with the ocean at one edge and scrub grass lining the ridges of tall dunes on the other. Beyond that lay a line of tall sharpened stakes set at an angle, with the straight pine forest stretching off into the distance beyond that. A few low walls made a pair of fighting pits on the beach, and both women could see several figures whirling in combat in each pit as the clash of weapons colliding rang out above the steady throb of the surf along the shore.

Octavia and Indra stopped just short of the low wall that encircled the central fighting pit. In the other pit off to the side, Murphy, Aden, and the Natblida boy, Josef, sparred with staves. Luna stood on the slope of the closest dune, keeping an eye on the proceedings while nonchalantly carving slices from an apple with a wickedly curved filet knife. Lexa stood within the central fighting pit, off to the side. She stood with both feet and the end of a long staff planted in the sand, her eyes tracking every moment of the two fighters sparring in front of her. Her eyes flickered briefly to the two approaching warriors, and she tilted her head in brief acknowledgement before turning back to the fight.

The young Natblida girl-Apru- stood in one corner of the pit, a dagger held ready in each hand. In the opposite corner stood Yaku, the young Floukru general, who gripped a razor-sharp halberd with easy familiarity. Octavia recognized the weapon was nearly identical to the style carried by Lexa's personal guard back in Polis.

The two fighters circled for a moment, eyes searching for an opportunity. The young Natblida gave a shout and broke into a sprint with a bloodcurdling yell. Her jet-black braids ribboned behind her as she charged the other woman. Yaku stood still until the girl was nearly upon her, before she too blurred into motion. Octavia barely caught the movement as she spun the halberd in her hands, sweeping the weighted butt of the weapon into the Natblida's ankles and sending her crashing into the sand at her feet.

The young general's weapon whirled, pointing the tip of the blade at the young girl's chest. She froze, expressionless and unyielding.

"Again," Lexa said, her eyes and voice hard. "Do not telegraph your attack."

The point of the halberd lifted, and Yaku stepped back to her corner as Apru regained her footing. Her grip on her daggers was so tight her knuckles were pale, and she breathed heavily, eyes dark with fury as she reclaimed her corner.

The two fighters began again, circling, looking for an opening. The surf crashed methodically in the background as they drew ever closer in a tighter circle, searching for a weakness.

Yaku's halberd flashed and she advanced towards the Natblida in a lightning fast strike. The younger girl was too quick, and the blade met only empty air. Apru ducked low in one fluid motion, weaving under the blade and dropping to one knee as she struck out with her blades. One edge caught Yaku on the outer calf, cutting through the cloth of her pants leg like butter and drawing a thin line of blood, while Apru reversed the other dagger in her hand, striking her in the back of the knee so hard that it buckled, dropping the general to one knee. If it were open combat and not a sparring bout it would have severed her leg at the knee. Apru's momentum carried her behind the older woman, and she lifted her daggers to strike a fatal blow, letting a grin ghost over her face…

Her moment's hesitation was all Yaku needed, tucking her shoulder and rolling away from the Natblida, who brought her daggers down so forcefully they stabbed into the sand. With all of her weight forward she was unable to dodge Yaku's retaliatory strike as she brought the halberd down in a wide arc, battering the girl across her shoulders. The weapon twisted in her hands and she brought the lower end of the weapon around in another quick circle, smashing underneath Apru's lower jaw with enough force to send the girl sprawling backwards into the sand. The Floukru woman regained her feet quickly, and once again pointed the tip of the halberd's blade against her opponent's chest.

Apru's face screwed up in anger and her hands swept through the sand at her sides in search of her daggers, even as her dark eyes welled with tears. Her fingers found the handle of one of the daggers and she reached out to grasp it.

The dagger went skittering away out of reach across the sand, kicked out of the way by Lexa's leather boot. Apru's eyes tracked from the boot, staring upwards until her field of view was dominated by her Heda coming to stand over her.

"Enough," Lexa said. It was a firm order, brooking no malice, but no argument either. The Commander dismissed Yaku with a pointed look, and the general brought the blade of her weapon up in front of her in salute before walking away in Luna's direction.

Lexa looked down at the fallen Natblida, her features cool, but eyes searching the girl's. Apru's face was a war of emotions and she breathed heavily, fighting back the tears and rage that threatened to spill over, avoiding meeting Lexa's eyes.

"Such mistakes on the battlefield will get you killed, Natblida." Lexa's tone was cool.

The young Natblida's voice was a wavering mix of shame and anger. "Sha, Heda."

"But then, you know this Apru. Or else you would not have survived the battles it took to escape Polis."

The girl looked up as Lexa's words cut to the heart of the turmoil within her. The tears finally spilled, and she was stoically silent as they traced down her cheek.

Lexa planted her staff into the sand and then kneeled alongside the girl, taking up the nearby dagger as she did so. Her eyes bored into the girl's and when she spoke her voice was low, was meant only for the two of them. "You cannot fight the enemy in front of you if you are busy fighting the one inside you, Natblida. You are worthy of your Shadjus. You will lead our warriors and spill the blood of our enemies, but you cannot do that if you let your rage blind you." Lexa held the blade of the dagger loosely, offering the handle to the girl.

"Mochof, Heda." The girl sniffled once and hastily swiped her sleeve over her cheeks, erasing the tracks of her tears as she cleared her throat and scrambled to her feet. "I understand." Her hand closed around the handle of the dagger with a tight grip, taking it from Lexa's hand to place it in the sheath at her belt.

Lexa straightened before her young charge, retrieving her staff from the sand. "Good. Now go, have Aden show you how to disarm a warrior with a staff." Apru bowed and then jogged off to the other training pit, scooping up her dagger along the way.

The Commander turned to Octavia and Indra then, gesturing for Luna to join them as she closed the distance between her and the two other women. Even if there hadn't been pressing business, there was no need to discuss what had just occurred. For Trikru, the matters between Heda and Natblida were not meant to be understood or judged by others. "Indra. Oktavia. What news do you bring?"

Indra looked grave. "We have made contact with many of the groups resisting Ontari and her armies in the area. For now, we have told them to withdraw to safer territory further from Polis, and await your call to gather. Riders have been sent to the furthest clans to see if they will pledge support, but none have returned with an answer. Many were killed before they made it to the borders." Lexa's eyes flashed darkly but Indra continued. "Azgeda continues to move into the forest and hunt our people and allies, Heda. They march north along the border between Trikru and Floukru territory."

"Do they know she is alive?" Luna's brows knit with concern and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No. They know there is resistance, but not who leads it. Many have died rather than give up that secret."

Lexa's jaw worked in a subtle gesture of frustration and anguish. "They will cut off Floukru from the rest of the Coalition and then circle in for the slaughter."

"Like fish in a net," Luna agreed.

Lexa's eyes flickered to Indra. "How long until they reach us?"

Indra thought for a brief second before replying. "Three days at most. The woods are crawling with advance scouts."

"We have to evacuate the villages." Lexa's mouth drew in a tight line, her eyes meeting Luna's. "I cannot have your people massacred on my behalf."

A wry grin crossed Luna's face. "Yaku and her gonas can lead Azgeda on a merry chase through the swamps. That will give us a little more time. By the time they reach the villages, they will be empty, and my people will be safe in our hodgedas in the sea. It will be much harder for us to get you away from here and deeper into the woods."

"Us?" Lexa's eyebrow arched in surprise. "I thought you were done with fighting? After the Conclave-"

Luna shook her head vehemently. "This is different, Lexa. That was jus drein jus daun. If you truly have realized that life is about more than just surviving, and that some things are more precious than revenge, than I am not too proud to say that this is the time when I must fight to save more lives than I must take." Her gaze shifted from Lexa's face, looking over her shoulder to where Yaku waited on the ridge of the dune. Octavia looked down at her hands, pretending she had not seen the gesture.

Lexa studied the faces of the women in front of her for a long moment. She drew herself up straight, gripping the staff in her hand as adrenaline surged through her. "That is our plan then. Get your people to safety, Luna. When the last boat has left, we head west to seek our allies, or our deaths. Whichever finds us first."

Next Week, in Chapter Eight:

Pike blinked, and then smiled. "So they're weak then. Now is the perfect time to stake our claim on the land before-"

"You're not listening," Clarke interjected, ignoring his scowl. "Whether you believe me or not, the Commander was the only thing standing between our people and death. Ontari and Azgeda rule the Coalition now, and from what I've heard you know exactly what Azgeda does to its enemies." She turned to face her mother and Kane. "There's an army coming for us and no one to keep them from doing to us what you did to their villages."

-
Trigedasleng:

"Min yu op!": "Enter!"
"Oso badan yu op Leksa kom Trikru, oso laik ridiyo Heda.": "We serve you, Lexa kom Trikru, the true Commander."
"Oso na goch emo klin, Aden. Bilaik os emo don na kik thru.": "We will avenge them, Aden. It is good you all survived."
Azgeda: Ice Nation. Composed mostly of the former northeastern U.S. states: New York and Pennsylvania, as well as half of Vermont, and portions of northern Virginia and West Virginia.
Yujleda: Broadleaf Clan. Composed mostly of the former southern U.S. states: South Carolina coast, southern Georgia, coastal Alabama, and all of Florida.
Sangkru: Desert Clan. Largely nomadic, controlling territory in the dead zone encompassing the former northeastern U.S. states: New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, southern Vermont, as well as coastal New York and Pennsylvania.
Podakru: Lake People. Composed mostly of the former Midwestern U.S. states: Ohio, southern Indiana, and Michigan.
Trishana: Glowing Forest Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: Alabama, Mississippi, and Tennessee.
Louwoda Kliron: Shallow Valley Clan. Composed mostly of portions of the former southern U.S. states: Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina.
Ouskejon: Blue Cliff Clan. Following the ridge of the Appalachian Mountains, and composed mostly of portions of the former U.S. states: Virginia, North Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama.
Amin: Master. Formal term of address from a Second to their First.
Mounon: Mt. Weather
Mochof: Thank you
"Reshop, Heda.": "Goodnight, Commander."
"Yu belaik skrish, seken.": "You look like shit, Second."
Keryon kom Heda: Spirit of the Commander
Shadjus: Nightblood
Hodgedas: positions, forts, keeps, oil rigs

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Art by Foomatic

Author's Note: Re: Lexa's memory loss:

Obviously I don't know a lot medically about memory loss or how it works, but I'm applying what I know + creativity within the bounds of the story...

The way I'm imagining things here is that the more recent, less 'solidified' memories were more likely to be disrupted. The immediate events are the most disrupted; the trauma of her brush with death is leaving a completely empty black hole where her memory of the coup is (much like you see real-world with survivors of accidents/head injuries, etc).

But the big part here is the Flame. In this story, I'm imagining the Flame as largely cybernetic, but with biologic components to help it interface with the brain. (great real world research and prototypes on this) Because of this, it can be affected by poison, toxins, etc. While it cannot control its host, when faced with destruction, it employs defensive measures, because it has to survive in order to preserve its function (saving humanity) and it can't do that if it's fried. In Chapter 4 Titus says that it has killed two Commanders previously in this manner. So, Lexa nearly died from that—never mind the actual poison and knife wounds- and no one knows if the Flame is corrupted or okay. And no Commander has ever survived its removal, so while her memories are there, it's a mess. For her, it's like having a word on the tip of your tongue and not being able to remember how or why or what that is.