Her eyes take him in for a long moment, and as she sees the glint in them, she thinks he considers a question, considers a request, something important, something dangerous. But Roan stands, paces around the campfire and breathes in deeply, his arms swinging by his side lazily and she thinks he lets his thoughts settle.
"If you fail you will die," he says simply as he turns back to her.
"That has always been true," she counters.
"If Lexa finds out you give her enemies information you will die. If you are caught by Nia you will die," he says.
"Is that not the same as failing?" she counters as she comes to stand.
"If our plans fail, if Clarke fails, you will die," he stresses.
"I know," she answers evenly. "But it is worth the risk," and she moves closer to him in the dark. "Azgeda waging war against all other clans will be the end of our people."
She sees him grind his teeth for a moment, and she knows memories of the Coalition's forming linger through his mind. "You can trust him?" he asks.
"He will see reason," she answers.
And so she watches as Roan nods his head, a hand scratching at his beard for a short while before he sighs.
"Then you will feed him information for Nia. If information is to leak then we must control what my mother knows," and she watches as he glares at the burning campfire for a moment. "It is dangerous," he says simply.
And she smiles at his words, but she knows the danger to be real, the threat to be true.
"It is a gamble," she shrugs. "But one we must make. We can not succeed in overthrowing Nia without their support."
"I do not like it," Roan says as he kicks at a branch.
"We all must make sacrifices for our people," she says. "You taught me that," and she sees his eyes roll.
"Do not parrot my words to me," but she knows she hears no bite in them.
"Then do not lead me into discussions where I am able to do so," she counters, her eyebrow raising in jest. "Come," she says as she eases herself back onto the furs, her hand outstretched for Roan to take.
And so Roan smiles slightly, his eyes glancing over her exposed chest as he begins to stalk towards her in the flickering light.
"Perhaps after this is over I will make Tehorse the capital," he says as he lowers himself over her, his hand brushing against her cheek kindly.
"Do not think you will gain favour with me by making my village the new capital," Echo laughs quietly as she wraps her legs around Roan's waist.
Clarke's legs ache and her throat scratches. Her mind drifts from sleep to wakefulness with each ungainly lurch of the horse she rides atop. She thinks she has spent a day constantly moving, her blindfolded body being passed from rider to rider as they meet and break off into different groups, into different directions to throw off a pursuit. But from the cold and the slowly rustling freeze that breathes around her she knows she must be close to Azgeda borders.
The horse comes to a stop though, and Clarke winces as she feels herself rock forward only for whoever rides behind her to snare her hair quickly to stop her from falling.
"Sorry, Wanheda," and Clarke starts at the familiar voice.
"Jenma?" she asks.
"Yes," and she knows Jenma talks quietly, and she thinks she hears the sounds of life, of a small camp. "Do not talk, you will only make your punishment worse," Jenma finishes as she dismounts before gripping Clarke firmly as she helps her off the horse awkwardly. "We rest for the night then we cross into Azgeda lands tomorrow," Jenma finishes as she begins pushing Clarke forward.
Clarke steps awkwardly over the iced ground underfoot, her feet slipping occasionally as she steps blindly forward. She feels the heat of burning campfires though, and she knows from the lack of glinting light through the blindfold that it must be close to sunset and that she sky must be tinged with streaks of pink by now.
Clarke hears the sound of a tent flap being drawn back before she is ushered inside, and she feels the temperature increase slightly from a flame that burns close by. Jenma pulls Clarke up short though before pushing down on her shoulders for her to sit. Clarke feels a pole to her back, and she knows she must in the centre of the tent. She feels herself tied to the pole then, the rope tight and cutting as it digs into her body.
"I am sorry," Jenma says as she pulls the blindfold free, and Clarke gazes at her for a moment and she spies the auburn red braids that cling messily to Jenma's forehead, a sign that they have travelled far, have travelled swiftly. "Food will be delivered when the hunters return," she finishes as she stands, a wan smile creasing her face as she slips out of the tent.
And so Clarke feels the few days of constant travel begin to creep back to the forefront of her mind. She knows she must be close to Azgeda borders now, and she thinks Nia must have snuck her out of Polis quickly, must have used Lexa's wound as a distraction, the time she spent being seen to enough for Nia and her forces to leave in the aftermath of the challenge.
But Clarke finds herself thinking of Ontari, too, she remembers the panic in her eyes, in her voice, she remembers Entani who stared, shocked and mute as Clarke was pulled through the Azgeda crowds. And she remembers Torvun looking from Teril to Nia and back to her, uncertainty and pause written across his face as he battles with whatever loyalties and oaths she thinks he must have taken.
Clarke's thoughts drift to Lexa though, and she thinks the wound on her thigh not serious, not life threatening, but she thinks it was deep, something that must have been seen to immediately. And as Clarke begins to sift over the challenge, over the fight, she realises that Nia must have done something, must have caused a distraction. For surely Lexa's confusion was caused by something. And Clarke remembers it, she remembers Lexa's gaze as it tracked behind her, as it looked to the Azgeda carefully, her eyes careful in their appraisal of the reactions of the crowd, of how much they believed. But Clarke remembers the narrowing of Lexa's eyes, she remembers the double take, the widening, the fright and fury and shock and pain as her eyes had seen something.
But for now, as Clarke takes in the sparse tent she finds herself in, she lets her mind relax, she lets her thoughts begin to settle and she feels sleep take hold. For what else is she to do?
Clarke wakes to sounds of commotion outside, to the sounds of arrival and the sounds of voices as they drift over the wind and through the fabric of the tent. She sees shadows move about and she knows it must be late now, the campfires that burn casting their light far.
Her head turns to the tent flap as it opens though, and Clarke squints as a figure steps through. But her eyes widen when the figure continues to move through the tent and kneel before her, a small tray of food held in trembling hands.
"Clarke," Ontari whispers, her eyes moving over Clarke's body briefly.
"Ontari," Clarke smiles quietly, and she eyes the messy braids that cling to Ontari's forehead, the furs that seem unkempt, haphazard.
"You are well?" Ontari asks as she places the tray of food down in front of Clarke.
"Yeah," and Clarke tries to shrug through the ropes that bind her to the pole. "How'd you get here?"
"Kwin Nia ordered all Azgeda in Polis to return to Azgeda," Ontari answers as she begins cutting the food into bite sized slices. "Even the ones who guard Skaikru are returning," Ontari finishes as she brings a spoon up to Clarke's lips.
"How's Entani? Torvun?" Clarke asks after she swallows.
"Entani is outside," Ontari says. "Torvun is with Kwin Nia now," and Ontari shrugs once. "He is guarding her again."
"Oh," and Clarke feels a slight pang in her chest at the removal of Torvun, his presence a loss she thinks will take adjusting to.
Ontari brings a small waterskin to her lips then, the liquid cools her throat and quenches her thirst. She holds it to Clarke's lips for long enough that Clarke feels the dryness in her mouth fade, and as Ontari pulls it away carefully Clarke smiles at her in thanks.
But Ontari stares at her for a long moment, and as Ontari's gaze moves over her face, Clarke knows Ontari must consider what has happened, why Nia was so quick to imprison and to isolate and remove Clarke from Polis.
"What did you do, Clarke," Ontari asks quietly, her eyes wide in the flickering of a flame. "What did you do?"
Clarke meets Ontari's gaze for a moment, and she thinks of lying, she thinks of not answering, of avoiding the question, of saying a half truth. But above all, she thinks of keeping her friends safe.
"It doesn't matter," Clarke says with a gentle smile. "It doesn't matter."
"Clarke," Ontari whispers, her hands clenching tightly in front of her. "What ever you did you must beg forgiveness," Ontari whispers. "When Kwin Nia questions you, admit everything. Ask forgiveness. Denounce whatever you have done," and Ontari shuffles closer on her knees.
"It's too late for that," Clarke says sadly, and she knows she feels her lip tremble when Ontari reaches out and grips her forearm tightly, Clarke's hands still hidden behind her back.
"Please, Clarke," Ontari says, and Clarke knows she sees a wetness begin to well in the corner of Ontari's eyes. "Whatever has happened, you mu—"
"Ontari."
And Clarke watches as Ontari's eyes widen before she rises to her feet quickly as she turns to face the newcomer.
Nia stands at the entrance to the tent, Teril by her side, and Clarke thinks she spies Torvun's bald head and braided beard amongst the other royal guards by the entrance just before the tent flap closes.
"Kwin Nia," Ontari says as her head bows and as she takes a step from Clarke.
But Nia watches for a long moment, her gaze hardening as she takes in the waterskin that lays on the floor by Clarke's side, and the plate with bite sized pieces.
"What were the orders," Nia says evenly.
"No one talk to the prisoner," Ontari says as her eyes remain on the ground, head bowed. "No one show her kindness."
"And yet I find you here," Nia says as she begins to move forward slowly, Teril ever present by her side.
"Yes, Kwin Nia," Ontari says as her head raises and as she meets Nia's gaze, and Clarke sees an acceptance spread over Ontari's face as Teril already begins to move forward.
And Clarke feels an ager burn in her as Teril reaches out quickly and snares Ontari around the throat before pulling her to him and kneeing her in the ribs. Clarke watches as Ontari gasps out in pain as Teril forces her to the ground before gripping her by the hair as he begins pulling her towards the entrance.
"Do not disobey orders again, Ontari," Nia says simply, her gaze looking at Clarke.
Clarke stays silent though, and she feels her jaw clench as Teril finishes pulling Ontari out of the tent before she hears the distinct sounds of Teril striking Ontari outside for a moment longer before it ends as abruptly as it started.
Nia reaches for a chair then, her eyes taking in Clarke's bound body as she drags the chair forward before sitting down in it facing Clarke.
"Ontari has disappointed me," Nia says after a long pause, her gaze hidden by a shadow as she reclines in the chair. "I had hoped she would one day lead an army," and Nia's head tilts. "Perhaps even become a royal guard," Nia finishes. "But now?" and Nia smiles sadly. "I do not think she will be given any such honour. You have made that certain."
And Nia's fingers begin to tap quietly at the armrest as she lets the silence linger for a long while once more. Clarke watches silently as Nia's thoughts dance openly across her face, and Clarke knows Nia thinks of outcomes, of actions and possibilities and scenarios and plans.
"I think I will send Ontari to the west," she says. "There is little to do there but waste away," and Nia sneers once. "It is a shame that she will waste the most fruitful of her years patrolling lands no one would wish to patrol," and Nia leans forward now. "And it is because of you, Clarke."
Clarke feels the glare begin to spread more openly now, and she sees Nia's lip curl at her defiance, her display of emotion and anger.
"You disappoint me, too, Clarke," Nia says. "Azgeda found you when your people cast you out. Azgeda gave you safety. Azgeda gave you purpose. Azgeda took you in as one of our own," and Nia's hands sweep out around her. "And yet you conspire against your clan. You plot to throw your clan into chaos, to weaken your clan, to ally with the weak. To make Azgeda weak."
"Everything I did was for Azgeda," Clarke answers tightly.
But Nia cleans closer, her eyes harden and her lips pulls up into a sneer. "I am Azgeda."
And as Clarke gazes upon Nia, she thinks the woman believes it, she thinks the Kwin wants what's best for Azgeda, what's best for her people. But, above all, Clarke thinks that Nia wishes for Azgeda to rule all the other clans.
"I only want what's best for our people," Clarke begins, her gaze holding Nia's. "I want the peace to last, I want everyone to be safe. I want all clans to flourish."
But she sees Nia snort at her words, and Clarke knows she must sound idealistic, must sound naive, misguided even. And yet…
"You don't want that," Clarke continues. "You want Azgeda to destroy all the clans, you want Azgeda to be the best, to rule over everything," and Clarke looks away briefly. "You're really willing to wage war against every other clan just to prove that Azgeda is the strongest?"
"Only the strong can survive," Nia snarls. "We do not share. We do not help the weak," and Nia spits her words. "The weak will die."
"So you'll rule in fear? You'll let Azgeda die just to prove a point," Clarke says, and she thinks her eyes turn beseeching now, and she feels her eyes widen slightly, and maybe she lets an innocence linger in her gaze.
"The Mountain," Nia says. "For generations the Mountain terrorised our people. For generations they killed our warriors. Took our families. Destroyed our clans with their tech," Nia hisses. "But the Mountain fell because they became complacent, they became weak, they allowed themselves to think they would always remain the strongest," and Nia leans even closer, her breath now ghosting against Clarke's lips. "And the Commander? And the Commanders before Lexa? They each died when they became weak, when they allowed themselves to become weak," and Clarke feels Nia's eyes move across her face before lowering for a moment. "You are young, Clarke," and Nia smiles kindly at her as she reaches out and brushes a finger against Clarke's jaw. "You were granted the luxury of not knowing what it is like to know you will one day lead your people into war. To one day sacrifice everything for your people," and Clarke grimaces slightly as Nia's finger brushes against her lower lip for a long moment. "The weak will always be destroyed," and Nia slides off the chair easily before coming to kneel in front of Clarke. "I will not let Azgeda become weak," and Nia leans forward, a smile slowly spreading over her lips as her face nears Clarke's. "I will not let Azgeda become a relic of the past. I will not let Azgeda become a fable told to children before they sleep like the Mountain has become."
And Clarke's eyes widen as she feels Nia's hand close around her throat gently, her fingers squeezing just enough for her to feel the pressure and the restriction of breath.
"It is a shame you have wasted your life for a misguided deed, Clarke," Nia says as she stands and begins walking to the tent's entrance.
Her feet move quickly, her steps move loudly, and she feels the anger and frustration and fear that fills her mind and breaks through her chest. She lashes out then, her fist swiping at a low hanging branch that intrudes in her path, and she curses out and grunts in pain as it merely sweeps back and strikes her in the face.
"You deserve that," Entani says from behind her, the healer still moving more slowly, her ribs and brace she wears causing her steps to falter every other step.
But Ontari ignores Entani's words, and as she slows her steps and clenches her fists tightly she lets out a long breath, her mind still turning with the thoughts that flash through her head, and her cheek still smarting from Teril's strike and she is sure her ribs are bruised from the strike he had given her.
"I told you it was a risk," Entani says more quietly now, her eyes more careful as she gazes at Ontari.
"What did she do?" Ontari asks as she turns to face Entani. "What did she do?"
"I do not know," Entani says. "Maybe it is because she beds the Commander," and Entani looks away in thought.
"But no one else would know of such a thing," Ontari whispers, her eyes scanning around the rocky forest for a moment. "You know, and I know."
"Perhaps Torvun?" Entani asks as she lowers herself to the ground awkwardly.
"He would not betray us. He would not betray Clarke," Ontari says.
"But he is back guarding Kwin Nia," Entani counters.
"He is not given a choice," and Ontari curses quietly as she lowers herself to the ground besides Entani.
"That is true," and Entani looks into the distance for a while. "What will happen?"
"I do not know," and Ontari worries her lip and she feels the beating of her heart begin to speed once more. "I told Clarke to admit everything, anything. Whatever it is that she has done," and Ontari glances once to Entani who coughs painfully besides her.
"That will be enough?" Entani asks, and Ontari sees her guard her thoughts, her own worries and fears.
"It must be, Entani," she answers. "It must be."
"Perhaps Kwin Nia will be lenient if Clarke begs forgiveness," Entani adds. "If she is lucky maybe she will be sent west," and Entani meets her eyes, a small hope beginning to build. "It is not nice, but she will be able to serve, still," and Entani nods to herself.
"We will volunteer to go," Ontari adds, her head nodding as she thinks over what may come to pass.
"We can say that it is to make sure Clarke does not do more wrongs, that we watch her," Entani smiles, but it falters slightly, "but what of Torvun?" she adds sadly.
"I do not think he will be allowed to come with us," Ontari says.
"No," and Entani looks away, a finger brushing against her eyes briefly.
"Everything will be ok, Entani," Ontari says as she reaches for her hand and squeezes it. "Everything will be o—"
And Ontari feels the prickle on the back of her neck. She feels the sting and the burn and the slowly building dizziness that takes hold.
"Ontari?" and she sees Entani's eyes turn quizzical, turn confused as she takes in Ontari's confused stupor.
Ontari's hand reaches up to her neck though, she grasps the sting and pulls it away, and as she lifts it up between them she sees Entani's eyes widen. But Ontari feels her fingers begin to weaken, she feels her eyes begin to blur, and she feels her mind begin to sleep.
"Run, Enta—"
But Ontari never finishes her words.