It doesn't take the Azgeda forces much time to pack, and as Clarke sidles up to her horse she finds a number of Skaikru also waiting, eyes nervous as they look from Azgeda to Trikru, both clans glaring sharply at each other.
"We're coming with you," Raven says with an awkward wave, Kane close by her side as he talks with Bellamy and Monty. "Apparently the Commander has requested Skaikru representation," Raven finishes.
"You volunteered to come?" Clarke asks, eyes quickly taking in the sturdy clothes that Raven and the others wear for the journey.
"Not really," and Raven shrugs with a smile. "But we figured it'd be best to send people who can show that Skaikru is good for the Coalition, so Monty and I were volunteered."
Clarke smiles briefly, and she is sure both Raven and Monty will be able to show the benefits of the tech that Skaikru can provide. And she hopes it will be enough to keep Skaikru from the Coalition's ire.
Clarke feels the prickle on the back of her neck though, and she feels the approaching feet and so she turns carefully, eyes just slightly guarded as she comes face to face with Wells, the dark skinned man nervous as he takes in her appearance and the frown she thinks must sit on her face.
"Hi, Clarke," Wells begins, hand raising just slightly before it drops to his side.
"Hi," and Clarke lets her gaze take him in, and she knows she will need to speak to him soon, will need to discuss the unspoken awkwardness that lingers, and she knows that apologies will need to be made. But for now she settles for a question and a small bridging of the space between them. "You're coming to Polis?" she says as she peers at the bag over his shoulders and the heavy jacket he wears.
"Yeah," and he shrugs just once, eyes briefly flicking to Raven before back to her. "Kane wants met to help in the meetings we're probably going to be in."
"I'm sure everything will be fine," and Clarke lifts a corner of her lips, thumb scuffing at the handle of her knife as she kicks at the ground for a moment.
"Ok," Raven says as she looks from Clarke to Wells, "what ever the fuck is going on between you two is too awkward for me, I'm out," and she turns and walks to Octavia, the young warrior huddled with a group of Trikru warriors.
"I know you didn't turn my father in," Clarke blurts out only to grimace at the lack of subtlety, and her decision to apparently have this conversation right now.
"I…" and Wells lets his mouth open once, lets his eyes widen for a moment.
"Why?" and Clarke frowns, mind trying to consider the events that had happened.
"You lost one parent," and Wells winces, "I didn't want you to lose both," and he looks away for a moment, eyes landing somewhere on the Ark as it juts up from the ground.
"I'm sorry," and it comes out a whisper, but she thinks it strange that she now accepts the lack of pain, the lack of hurt and anger.
"It's ok," and Wells smiles for a moment, and it's only a small smile, but Clarke follows it with her own.
"It's not," and she finds herself looking away too, "we should talk more when we've got time," and she eyes a number of Azgeda who already begin moving, some atop horses, others in lighter furs and leathers, scouts that will soon bleed into the trees.
"Yeah," and Wells nods his head, the smile only now finding its way to the corner of his eyes.
Things are tense and it isn't lost on Clarke that memories of the first time she had travelled through Trikru lands now surface. Nia rides atop her horse, the beast surrounded by a large number of guards, Teril ever present by her side, his own horse happy to meander through the trees. The only difference this time is that the Azgeda warriors ride together, and Clarke is sure it is Nia's way of sending a message, of telling the Trikru that she doesn't fear attack from them, or perhaps it's to laugh in their face, to say that Trikru would be useless in an attack. But Clarke finds herself peering at the many more Trikru that ride with them, that move through the trees and that break off into the distance, only to be replaced by others, tactics Clarke is sure, are to make it harder for Azgeda to ascertain the number that travel with them. Ontari rides besides her too, the other warrior's gaze moving from the Trikru then back to Nia, the Kwin's presence clearly leaving her more nervous, more cautious of attack.
Clarke lets her thoughts drift though, the journey to Ton DC long enough for her to let her mind wander. And so it does. She finds herself peering up into the trees occasionally, the wind that rushes through the canopy overhead swaying the leaves and branches and giving her glimpses of the cool blue of the sky.
Skaikru ride awkwardly between the Azgeda and Trikru forces, the few who were chosen to travel to Polis not quite as sure and certain on their horses. Clarke winces slightly as she watches Raven shift inelegantly in her saddle, the horse clearly used to Raven's poor riding skills, and she eyes Monty who rides besides the mechanic, his eyes trained on the ground in front of him. She watches as Kane ducks under a low hanging branch just a touch more gracefully, and she watches as Bellamy and harper share words quietly, both with rifles slung over shoulders. Wells rides besides Octavia, both of them talking as Lincoln follows behind them silently.
"They are useless on horseback," Ontari says as she brings her horse closer to Clarke's.
"That one will fall soon," Entani adds, a smile in her voice as she watches Raven get hit in the head with a branch.
"They're learning," Clarke shrugs. "I wasn't that great when I first started."
"You still are not," Ontari jokes, her foot kicking at Clarke's.
"Ever been to Polis?" Clarke asks with a quiet laugh of her own, ignoring the chuckle that escapes past Entani's lips.
"No," Ontari says, Entani nodding her agreement.
"I have travelled there before," Torvun says from behind them, his horse slowly nudging its way next to Clarke's as Ontari glares at him, her horse slowly forced aside.
"What's it like?" Clarke asks, her mind conjuring up images of castles, of great markets, of vast buildings and grounds. Or perhaps it is merely one large tent knowing Lexa's liking. "Any castles?"
"No," Torvun answers. "There are no castles," and he runs a hand through his beard briefly as he thinks of how best to describe the capital. "There is a large tower that the Commander resides in, ambassadors and honoured guests are quartered there."
"That's it?" Clarke asks.
"It is like any other large town. But much bigger," he finishes with a shrug.
"You are very descriptive, Torvun," Entani says, eyes glancing to Ontari briefly before smirking at Clarke.
"I did not have time to explore it," Torvun counters gruffly.
Clarke laughs quietly at the exchange of words, and she finds herself content to follow the easy, quiet chatter the group devolve into. But, despite the easiness of conversation, she feels the slight tension that lives only within her mind, Nia's presence a warning, Roan's absence a threat, and the radios in her bag a gamble that she thinks may all be for nothing. But as Ontari once more pushes her horse between Torvun's and hers, as Ontari once more retorts with her snark, Clarke urges the worries from her mind. At least for now.
The many warriors arrive at Ton DC by what Clarke assumes must be just past midday. It's a tense moment though, the Trikru now more cautious, now more watchful of the Azgeda this close to a Trikru village. Clarke sees Anya break from the Trikru and turn to face the Azgeda who gather around Nia, the Kwin now looking over the damage to Ton DC that is still slowly being repaired.
"The Commander will call for you soon," Anya begins, eyes glaring angrily at the nearest Azgeda who grumbles under their breath. "We will rest here until daybreak tomorrow," and Anya jerks her chin in the direction of the old clearing that the armies of the coalition had used during the wait for the attack on the Mountain. "You may make camp there for the night," she finishes, hand resting comfortably on the sword at her hip.
The Azgeda move off carefully, the many more Trikru watching them as they begin moving through the trees towards the clearing. Clarke follows quickly, fingers already beginning to pull out the heavy sleeping furs from a bag tied to her saddle as her horse steps through the last of the trees, Azgeda quickly spreading out into the large clearing.
And so Clarke dismounts her horse as she joins Ontari in setting up their tent, Entani and Torvun guiding their horses away for the night.
"You have been requested to join the meeting, Wanheda," and Clarke looks up from where she sits to find a woman she vaguely recognises from the time she has spent near Ton DC in the past couple months.
Clarke rises, sends a smile to Ontari and then she begins following the woman, hair braided back, a tattoo on the back of her neck that must dip down her back peeking out from under the leathers.
It doesn't take them long until they break from the camp and into the trees, the short distance to Ton DC giving her time to consider what will happen in the next few moments. She eyes the woman she follows then, the woman's gaze careful as she takes in the strength of her face and the angle of her features in the just dimmed light.
"Niylah, right?"
"Yes," she answers as she glances over her shoulder.
And so Clarke shrugs at the lack of reciprocation, the woman clearly anxious to be rid of her company.
They enter the gates to Ton DC to find Azgeda guards standing outside a building, a number of Trikru warriors also facing them, Indra standing out front as she meets their glares with her own. Indra must sense Clarke's approach though because she turns and enters the building, her hand lifting only slightly for Clarke to follow her. And so Clarke nods at the Azgeda she passes as she ducks inside, eyes squinting just slightly at the drop in ambient light.
It only takes Clarke a moment to register that a number of people stand in the large room, a table separating them into two groups. She finds Nia on the side nearest to her, the Kwin in her greyed furs and Teril standing by her side, three other Azgeda warriors present. On the opposite side stands Lexa, her hand resting easily against the knife on her hip, and by her side stands Anya and Gustus, both warriors flanking her, Anya's gaze ever angry as she sneers at the Azgeda warriors, Gustus more calm in his demeanour, despite the way his eyes roam from movement to movement. Indra quickly moves to take her place besides Anya, and as the older Trikru village chief moves around the room Clarke finds more Trikru warriors standing in the shadows, hands on swords, warning in their posture.
And so Clarke finds herself stepping besides Nia, the three other Azgeda warriors standing aside as they make room for her presence. Clarke lets her gaze find Lexa's then, but as she stares slightly, as she peers into the green eyes, Lexa merely inclines her head once, eyes evenly trained on Nia's.
"Why did you not arrive at Ton DC as planned?" Lexa begins, her voice coming out crisp, her gaze hardening in the light.
"I have already informed Anya why," Nia responds, a small something lingering in her voice.
"I wish to hear it from you," is all Lexa says, voice bordering an order.
"Wanheda was visiting her old people," Nia says after only a small pause. "It would be disrespectful to ignore them."
And so Lexa lets the silence linger for a long moment, eyes holding Nia's and Nia's not quite hiding the mirth within them, the light dancing in her eyes as she meets Lexa's gaze.
"You travelled with the warriors that are to replace those here at the Mountain?" Lexa begins once more.
"Yes," Nia answers, "the warriors already at the Mountain will return to Azgeda, and the ones I have travelled with will take their place. Some will travel to Polis," Nia finishes.
"Of course," and Clarke sees Anya grit her teeth just slightly at Lexa's acceptance of Nia's actions.
"I must thank you, Heda," and Nia's head tilts ever so slightly as her lip pulls ups into a smile. "You have shown yourself to be considerate in your release of Prince Roan."
"And how is Prince Roan?" Lexa asks evenly, but Clarke thinks the question almost rhetorical, she thinks she even feels Lexa roll her eyes, if only mentally.
"His time in captivity was burdensome," and Nia raises a finger to silence the quiet growl one of her guards lets escape. "As I am sure you would understand," and at those words Clarke feels Gustus tense, and she thinks she feels the cracking of Anya's resolve.
Lexa raises an eyebrow carefully, her gaze unwavering as she stares down Nia for a long while.
"Be prepared to move out at first light," is all Lexa says before she casts her gaze to the door just once. "You may leave now."
And so Nia inclines her head just once before she begins moving to the doors, and Clarke follows but not before her eyes meet Lexa's for just a moment. They step out of the building to come face to face with the Skaikru representatives, Kane standing nervously besides a Trikru warrior who continues to glare at the Azgeda who wait outside. Clarke meets Wells' gaze briefly, a small smile shared between them both before she follows Nia and the other Azgeda as they begin walking through Ton DC and towards the camp.
The walk back to the camp passes slowly, Nia seemingly happy to meander through Ton DC, her chin raised, her eyes peering lazily from face to face, her Azgeda guards flanking her and taking up much of the main street that moves through the village. Nia pauses in her steps though, her eyes peering at the rusted door that locks the prisoners under the depths of Ton DC and that seals them from the fresh air. Clarke sees Nia smirk just once, her gaze moving to a Trikru guard who stands by the door before she turns to meet Clarke's gaze.
"The prisoner from the Mountain is there?" and she inclines her head towards the rusted doors.
"Yes, Kwin Nia," Clarke answers, her thoughts quickly darkening as she senses the direction Nia wishes to take.
And so it doesn't surprise Clarke when Nia begins moving towards the doors, the Trikru guard tensing as they approach, his hand falling to the knife on his hip out of habit.
"Step aside," Nia says as she comes face to face with the guard, Teril stepping closer as he stares down the equally as large man.
"I am not to allow anyone to enter," he answers, jaw clenching and his eyes moving to Teril.
Clarke thinks she senses it moments before it happens. Teril sneers just once, his hand carefully dropping to the knife strapped to his ribs, the guard's eyes narrow at the motion and Nia merely drops her hands to the furs on her hip too. It's odd, too, Clarke thinks herself unsure of how to intervene in this moment, but as her eyes take in the three people and as her own body begins to react to the shifting in the air she hears a voice echo out over the quiet.
And so she turns to find Anya and Indra walking towards them, Anya holding Nia's gaze as she approaches, Indra's jaw clenched tightly and her gaze moving from Azgeda to Azgeda. And it isn't until Anya stops mere paces from her that Clarke realises that Trikru warriors have slowly surrounded the few Azgeda present.
"This prisoner," and Nia gestures towards the door, "has wronged Azgeda. I wish to question him," and her voice comes out steady, a small smile finding its way into her eyes. "That is if he can still talk," she finishes.
Anya glares harshly at Teril until the man drops his hand from the knife at his ribs before she faces Nia once more.
"You may question him but we will be present," is all Anya says before the guard begins sliding open the rusted doors, the metal groaning under the motion.
And so Clarke lets a sigh leave her lips as she sends Anya a brief apologetic smile, the Trikru general scoffing at the gesture before they descend down the stairwell.
More Trikru warriors follow them this time, the numbers beginning to cluster too close together in the enclosed passageways, and Clarke is sure that if violence was to erupt, no one would be able to attack another merely from how cramped she feels. But then they come face to face with Thelonious, the bars to his locked cell the only thing separating him from Nia's cold gaze.
It's an odd thing, the next few moments, Nia merely gazes upon Thelonious as he looks back, his gaze moving from person to person before him. Clarke sees him take in the scars over the faces before him, she sees him register the difference in clothing, Azgeda furs heavier, whiter.
"What do you want?" Thelonious says cautiously, eyes flicking to Clarke's just once before finding Anya's, slight recognition dawning on his face.
Nia steps forward slowly, Teril moving to stand with her only to be stopped by Nia's hand waving him off. And then Nia stops, the bars of the cell almost touching her cheek as she leans forward, her lips turning into a sneer.
"You are weak," she begins, "you killed me people," and she holds his gaze, "you bled my people," and Clarke thinks she feels the anger of the Azgeda begin to increase, "you turned them into monsters," and Clarke is sure she feels the Trikru tense and ready themselves for an intervention, "you are lucky, worm," and Nia brings a hand out from her furs and wraps it around the cold bite of a metal bar "If you were in Azgeda hands you would be tortured, you would be beaten, you would be broken," and Thelonious comes to his knees as he holds Nia's gaze, "and I would not let you die," and Nia meets Anya's gaze for a long moment. "That is all," and then Nia turns, her furs rustling as she moves from the cell and towards the open air.
It's late, or perhaps it's early, but Clarke finds herself lazing in the forests near Ton DC. She thinks the day spent under Nia's ever constant eye has worn her down, has fatigued her mind. Perhaps even ironically she finds herself unable to embrace sleep now, despite the yawn that escapes her lips and so she sighs, the sounds of the Azgeda war camp now more quiet as the moon shines down from the skies above.
She knows Torvun will be close, he had walked her into the forests, and he had refused to leave her alone, and it wasn't until she had agreed to let him remain unseen yet close enough to act should he need to. And so she doesn't kid herself, she doesn't let herself really think she has a moment of peace and quiet. But for now she can embrace the facade. And so she lets the back of her head scrape against the bark of a tree, her pelt, panther skull and heavier furs resting by her side and the cold of the night's air biting into her body.
She thinks of Wells then, hardly a word spoken to him since they had set off from Arkadia, and she knows she will need to set aside time soon, perhaps once they reach Polis. She thinks of Ontari and Entani, both women ever loyal to Azgeda, she thinks of Ontari's awe at having once more met Nia and she thinks of the role her friends will play in whatever it is that will come to be.
She thinks herself in a quagmire, in a bog, in a slowly sinking ship that has no bearing. She thinks of Roan with a wan smile, Clarke thinks that perhaps Nia knows that she had not taken control of the Mountain to one day break from the Coalition, that she had not put in place warriors that were loyal to Nia, but to Roan. But she thinks even the Azgeda here are now loyal only to Nia. If only because Nia travels with warriors from the northern villages, who will now replace those here.
She hears a quiet hoot echo out around her then, and so she sits carefully, her eyes peering out into the trees, the dark of the night hiding detail from her tired eyes. She hears the crunch of a boot against stick then and her hand falls to her thigh, fingers closing around the hilt of her knife. And then she hears a quiet birdcall, she hears it repeated and then she hears the rustling of bushes.
Echo breaks from the undergrowth carefully, slowly, Torvun slipping from his hiding spot not far from Clarke's side.
"We are alone," Echo begins, yet her voice remains low. "I scouted," she finishes, gaze falling to Clarke's knife.
"You're sure?" Clarke answers, perhaps not quite so surprised that Echo has sought her out.
"Yes," Echo says, Torvun eyeing her carefully. "Where is Prince Roan?"
"Not here," Clarke says, her gaze peering past Echo for a moment as she lowers her voice too.
"You think him dead?" Echo asks.
"I don't know," and Clarke doesn't, not fully. "Nia's being too friendly," Clarke finishes.
"She is," is all Torvun adds to the conversation.
"It is a show," Echo says, "she will want to let you think that all is safe," and Echo looks away for a moment in thought.
"What's her endgame?" and Clarke furrows her brow in thought, her mind trying to play the game, trying to find the moves that await her. "She wants to break from the coalition?"
"Yes," and Echo nods to herself once. "She has always wanted to break from the coalition. And now she has two options," and Echo pins Clarke with a careful look. "If she aids those that fled the Mountain then she can use their tech to her advantage in any fight, we still do not know how many fled, and we do not know what they have," and Echo breathes in once. "The second is you," and Clarke feels her skin prickle.
"You think that's why she's being nice?" and Echo shrugs once. "You think she doesn't care that I didn't follow her orders?"
"She has either had Prince Roan killed, and if that has happened then Nia would know of the deal you had made. But perhaps she thinks having Wanheda as an ally outweighs your actions so she courts you even now."
"Or?" but Clarke thinks she knows the answer.
"Or she lures you into a false sense of security and will soon have you killed."
"Either way she gains Wanheda's power," Torvun adds.
"Some warriors already left to return to Azgeda lands," Echo says after a moment. "Many will remain at the Mountain and I do not think Nia will let Arkadia go unnoticed if she wishes to control Wanheda," and Echo peers up into the sky briefly. "She will send warriors to Arkadia, either to protect your old people from those that fled the Mountain, or as a threat that she can attack if you do not cooperate."
"And we can't accuse her of anything unless we have proof," Clarke sighs quietly, a finger coming to rub at her eye briefly. "I just want to clear things up first. I'm not talking about treason, but we all agree that Azgeda fighting all the other clans is a bad idea, right?" and Clarke looks at Torvun to see him nod slowly.
"It would not be a wise decision," Echo says.
"So how do we stop that from happening?" Clarke asks to both people before her.
"We hope that Prince Roan is still alive," Torvun says.
"Or we find evidence that Nia has sided with the last of the Mountain Men," Echo finishes.
And so Clarke sighs heavily, her foot coming to kick at a twig in frustration.
"I have radios in my bag," she begins after a moment. "I don't think I should be seen giving you one," and Clarke raises an eyebrow.
"I can steal it," Echo answers with a smirk. "You wish for me to return to Azgeda? To find Prince Roan?"
"Yes," and Clarke worries her lip, "or get evidence that he is dead and that Nia was responsible."
Echo smiles grimly, her thoughts clearly sifting through the priorities she now faces.
"I can do that," Echo says with a nod.
And so Clarke extends her arm as she meets Echo's gaze, the assassin's fingers clasping her forearm in return.
"Good luck," Clarke says.