Chapter 25/28
Clarke grunts out quietly as she swings herself up onto a horse, and she sees Ontari's head turning from her to Entani and back, and Clarke is sure the woman wars with who to help, or perhaps merely whether she should even offer despite knowing either, or both would refuse. The thought pulls a smile from her lips, and as she meets Torvun's own quiet smirk she knows she feels a happiness that she has been reunited with her friends.
"We move quickly," Roan's voice echoes out around them. "We do not stop until we are in Trikru lands," he finishes, and Clarke sees Lexa nod once as both leaders share a glance.
The snow fields of Azgeda slip past Clarke rapidly, and as she urges her horse forwards she sees a small number of Azgeda direct their horses away from the main group in an attempt to throw off any who may track the trail they leave. Clarke glances at the Trikru warriors though, and as she eyes the small number that had accompanied Lexa into Azgeda lands, she thinks she sees Anya staying ever present by Costia's side, and she knows she sees a majority of them riding much too close to her. She even spies Jaha who sits tied and blindfolded behind a large Trikru warrior, and as the horse jostles Jaha's wrist, she thinks she even sees him flinch from the pain Ontari had caused when he was captured.
"They do not give her space," Ontari snorts over the wind, her chin lifting in the direction of Costia as she lets her horse fall into stride beside Clarke's.
"The Commander is paranoid," Clarke says over the wind.
She doesn't miss the way Ontari's gaze softens slightly as she glances to the front of the war band, her gaze falling to Lexa's back as it moves easily with the motions of her horse.
"You are prettier," Ontari says simply as she casts a long gaze towards Costia before her eyes turn back to Clarke with a smile.
And so Clarke smiles slightly, and she lets Ontari's presence nearby soothe her worries for the moment.
The trees begin to bleed out through the snow now, and as Clarke squints she knows she can see the forests of Trikru lands that begin to take hold in the distance. The horses' paces also increase now, the snow underfoot more compact, denser, more gravel and rock and dirt. She even senses the eagerness of crossing the border into Trikru lands that rolls off from the few Trikru, their time spent secretly in Azgeda not welcomed, not appreciated.
Clarke's gaze shifts to Lexa's back, and as she takes in the woman's hair that billows out behind her, she can't help but to think of things to come, and isn't it a cruel thing to now be faced with a decision that she thinks already made. And perhaps it's petty, perhaps it's not even that important in comparison to the things she has done, to the sleepless nights that come and go. But maybe Clarke just wishes to be selfish for now, just wishes to let herself wallow in a pool of churning emotions.
Lexa must sense her gaze because the woman shifts in her saddle and looks over her shoulder. And their eyes meet. And it's just for a moment, but perhaps it's long enough that Clarke recognises the uncertainty in Lexa's own gaze, in the way her body shifts ever so slightly in the breeze, in the way her head nods minutely, so slightly that Clarke thinks she imagined the motion.
But Lexa turns to face forwards once more, her eyes turning to the trees that begin to reach up through the snow as they bleed into existed around the weary warriors.
A horn echoes out through the forest at the same time the group crosses into the trees, and Clarke feels the Azgeda tense up slightly at the sound, and she sees the Trikru relax even further now. The war party slows its pace, too, and she sees the Azgeda begin to split into smaller groups, their eyes ever roaming as they look into the sparse trees around them, years of habit and hostility not so easily swayed by tense truces.
Clarke sees a Trikru warrior bring a horn to her lips in answer to the first, and Clarke watches as she takes in a deep breath before blowing. The sound rings out around them, and Clarke eyes a bird that takes flight to the sound, the vibrations disturbing its once peaceful rest.
"Movement left," Clarke hears an Azgeda warrior hiss out.
Clarke sees a couple warriors closest to her tense, and she feels a few begin to move closer to Roan who rides at the forefront of the group. But a small number of warriors bleed out through the trees, and Clarke can't help but smirk slightly at the familiarity of the meeting, at the way she once more finds herself reintroduced to Trikru lands.
Indra rides forward easily, her eyes gazing from Trikru to Azgeda face, her hand settled easily on the reins of her horse. Lincoln and Octavia flank her, and Clarke thinks she spies a small number of Trikru warriors lurking further back in the trees as they wait.
"Heda," Indra says as she comes to a pause before Lexa.
"Indra," and Lexa nods.
Clarke's gaze meets Octavia's, and they share a nod quietly before Octavia pulls her attention back to the quiet words Indra and Lexa share. Clarke watches as Indra glances past Lexa and at the Azgeda, and she sees Indra nod her way. But Clarke thinks she feels her lips twitch into a smile despite the situation as Indra glances past Costia only to do a double take, her eyes widening for only a moment before they snap back to Lexa's who continues to talk quietly.
"We move," Lexa calls out, and Clarke sees Roan nod as he pulls his horse up besides Lexa's, both leaders beginning to urge their horses forward easily.
The war party makes camp for the night as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Snow only just bleeds into the ground this far south. More Trikru warriors had arrived, too, and as Clarke looks around at the tents beginning to be erected she can't help but to feel the careful energy that breathes throughout the camp, and she thinks it an anticipation of the plans that have been made, the plots and careful manoeuvring of warriors to the border, and even the obscuring of Azgeda warriors loyal to Roan and his cause.
"The Commander wishes to see you, Clarke," and she looks up to see Octavia standing behind her.
"Ok," and Clarke looks around briefly before Ontari takes the reins from her hands, already waving her away.
"I will handle this," Ontari says tiredly.
And so Clarke returns a smile before falling into step behind Octavia as the Trikru woman begins to wind her way through the warriors and tents that already begin to be erected through the forest floor.
"I'm happy you're ok, Clarke," Octavia says. "Everyone freaked out a little once the challenge ended," and she shrugs.
"Yeah," and Clarke worries her lip slightly only to wince at a cut that only just started healing.
"Skaikru came, too," Octavia continues. "A lot are at Ton DC now. Abby, too," and Clarke sees Octavia eye her carefully.
"How'd they take the news?" Clarke finds herself asking.
"Abby freaked out," Octavia says simply.
"Yeah," and Clarke looks up into the sky for a moment. "I can imagine."
They come to a pause at a large tent then, and Clarke eyes its familiarity and size. A guard stands before them, too, and he holds up a hand before he calls out their arrival. Clarke hears Lexa's voice call out then, and so the guard turns around and nods their way.
"You may enter, Wanheda," he says gruffly.
Clarke steps into the tent, and she takes a moment to let her eyes adjust before she takes a few more tentative steps forward. Looking around, Clarke finds Lexa sitting in her throne, and she recognises Shana who kneels behind her, head tilted to the side in concentration as her fingers braid Lexa's hair back into its usual twists and turns.
"You wanted to see me, Commander?" Clarke asks, and she doesn't miss the way Lexa's eyes shift slightly at the use of her title.
"Yes," Lexa answers as she waves Shana off who smiles slightly before bowing and ducking out of the tent.
Lexa waits until Shana's absence fully settles before she rises and takes a step from her throne so that she meets Clarke half way.
"There are things we should discuss, Clarke," Lexa begins.
"Yeah," and Clarke looks away, and she finds herself not quite sure how to begin, not quite sure what more she should say.
"You ha—"
"I know Co—"
Both women pause. And Clarke watches as Lexa swallows before she breathes in deeply, closes her eyes and grits her teeth for a moment.
"I don't blame you," Clarke begins as she sees Lexa's breath come out shaky. "I know how much she meant—" but Clarke finds herself pausing for a moment, "—how much she means to you," and Clarke finds herself looking away as the last of her words trail off. "It's ok, Lexa," she says. "It's o—"
But Lexa moves. She leans forward, her hand reaches out and grips Clarke's waist as she pulls their bodies together. And Clarke's eyes widen as Lexa's gaze shifts across her face for only a moment and Clarke watches as Lexa's eyes close and then she presses her lips to Clarke's.
And Clarke finds the move brazen, sudden, surprising, and it takes her a long moment to realise that her eyes have remained open, that her lips remain slackened and that Lexa already begins to pull away, her own eyes widening as she sees the shock that must live across Clarke's face.
"Clarke," she stammers. "I—"
But Clarke leans forward, her hands grip Lexa's waist and she pulls them back together. But this time she smiles into the kiss as their lips touch, and she feels the tension ebb from Lexa's body as she relaxes and as the kiss lengthens. Lexa pushes forward, in search and in want, and Clarke lets her take the lead, she lets Lexa's hand brush against her cheek, she lets Lexa's lips chase hers and she lets her own heart settle in its drumming pace.
And then it slows.
The kiss slows, it turns more comforting, it turns less full of turmoil, less desperate and wanting, and in its place Clarke thinks it turns soothing, gentle, and she finds her finger brushing against the shell of Lexa's ear, and she thinks she hears Lexa whimper quietly as she presses herself to the other woman and as she pushes her back, and she knows she hears Lexa's grunt of annoyance as her back hits the table Clarke only just realises blocks their way.
But Lexa surges forward once more, her leg hooks behind Clarke's and she spins them around so that Clarke finds her lower back pressed into the wood. Lexa breaks the kiss then, and her lips trail down Clarke's jaw, and she feels Lexa's thumb brush against the raised edges of the scars that run down her cheek, that decorate her face and mark her as Azgeda.
Clarke finds herself breathing Lexa's name, and she thinks the rasp to her voice unfamiliar and foreign to her, but she thinks she feels the shudder that runs through the other woman's body and she knows she feels the smile that presses against the curve of her throat. Lexa hums into the kiss, her hands settling fully on Clarke's hips as she pushes forward.
But Lexa stops. She pulls her face away, and she breathes in deeply as her forehead rests against the rising of Clarke's chest.
"I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa says quietly as she looks up as she takes a measured step back.
"I—" but Clarke swallows dryly, her throat rough, her mind frenzied. "You can't leave me like this," she manages to say as she gestures between them and as her gaze flits over Lexa's face to find her cheeks flushed, a smile on her lips.
"I am sorry for that, too, Clarke," and Clarke knows she sees a smile in Lexa's eyes, and she knows she hears the smirk in her voice.
"Stop saying sorry, Lexa. Just—"
"Let me finish," Lexa interrupts, and Clarke glares at the lifting of Lexa's lips. "I am sorry, Clarke," Lexa repeats. "That I have been distant," and Lexa looks away.
"It's ok," Clarke finds herself repeating, too. And she thinks it is ok. If only because she couldn't begrudge Lexa's confusion, Lexa's anger, Lexa's hurt and anguish. "I understand," and Clarke grunts out quietly as she pushes off from the side of the table, her body protesting the motion. She even feels Lexa shift closer to her, she even sees the twitching of Lexa's hands as they go to reach out, as they go to gr—
"What did you do to your hand?" Clarke says as her gaze falls to the bandage around her hand.
"It is nothing," Lexa says quickly as she goes to hide it behind her back.
"It's not nothing," Clarke snaps as she snatches Lexa's hand from behind her back. And she sighs as she sees the bruising around Lexa's knuckles and the slight grey of the paste that must cover a wound. "Let me change that for you," she says as she looks around for fresh cloth of bandages, or for even a healer's pack. "How'd you do this?" Clarke asks as she finds herself pulling Lexa to her obscured private quarters that remain hidden by a sheer fabric that hangs from the ceiling.
"Costia," Lexa says simply, her gaze not quiet meeting Clarke's.
"Oh," and Clarke feels a grimace that pulls at her lips, the exhilaration of earlier beginning to now bleed away.
The silence lingers between them then, and as Clarke settles on Lexa's bed she thinks it slightly awkward, slightly odd.
"I have not been fair to you," Lexa begins quietly.
"I understand, Lexa. I really do," and Clarke lets their eyes meet for a long moment. "I don't blame you," and she smiles. "Anyone would need time."
"It has been difficult to adjust," Lexa says, and Clarke thinks she hears the fraying of Lexa's voice slightly.
"I wasn't going to make you choose," Clarke says though, and she dips her head so that she still holds Lexa's gaze as the other woman's eyes fall to her lap.
"I—" but Lexa doesn't quite meet her gaze as she bites her lip slightly. "I lost Costia years ago," Lexa begins after a moment. "I did not know how to act, how to react to her," she admits quietly.
"Talk to her," Clarke whispers. "Like you're talking to me," and Clarke lifts Lexa's chin with a finger. "You aren't alone in this, Lexa."
"You would still have me even with Costia's return?" Lexa asks.
Clarke scoffs at the woman's words though, and she can't help but to let her eyes roll.
"Of course, Lexa," and Clarke sees Lexa nod slightly. "I'm not a child," and she looks away in thought for a moment. "Every relationship has its challenges," she finishes quietly. "I trust you," and Clarke squeezes Lexa's knee.
But Clarke's eyes narrow slightly as a smile begins to form across Lexa's lips, the woman's eyes taking on a quiet glint in the dark light.
"What?" Clarke asks.
"Is that what Skaikru call it?"
"Call what?" and Clarke frowns.
"What exists between us. A relationship," and Lexa shrugs slightly. "A bond," she finishes.
"I guess so?" and Clarke feels her own lip twitch sightly. "If you want it to be one," she adds.
"That sounds satisfactory, Clarke," Lexa says evenly.
Clarke's eyes roll, and she knows she senses the laughter that exists behind Lexa's mask of indifference and so she pokes Lexa in the ribs lightly. But Clarke feels a sense of relief, however slight, that Lexa has acknowledged their connection. At least for now.
"Regardless of what happened, and what will happen, between us, or whoever," and Clarke gestures awkwardly around them once more. "I'm happy for you," and she pauses. "Costia is a good person, Lexa, and you deserve her back in your life," Clarke finishes.
Lexa turns quiet though, and Clarke thinks thoughts of revenge must linger through the woman's mind, or perhaps memories of pain and anguish.
"Hey," and she prods Lexa's thigh gently. "Don't face whatever it is alone," she challenges.
She watches as Lexa shakes herself free of the thoughts then, and she smiles as Lexa meets her gaze, an easiness returning to her slowly. And so Lexa looks away in thought for a moment before she meets Clarke's gaze just once more.
"Perhaps with Costia's return I will have more than enough to keep myself busy with," she says cooly.
"Don't you dare joke about that."
Ontari's feet step louder than she needs as she approaches the small clearing as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. She feels the Trikru guards that follow her, and she sees the shadow of one that moves in the treetops above her as she continues to walk.
"I know you follow me," she snaps as she turns to face whichever warrior it is that stalks her.
"We do not wish to hide," Lincoln answers as he slips out from a shadow.
"Then why do you follow?" Ontari snarls.
"Because you are Azgeda," Lincoln shrugs. "You will forgive us for not fully trusting any Azgeda at this time."
"I am with Wanheda," Ontari snaps, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she glares up at the taller man. "Is that not proof enough of where my loyalties lie."
"That is proof enough that you do not side with the Commander," Lincoln answers cooly.
Ontari curses him out as she turns though, and then she begins to walk forwards once more, her eyes falling to the tracks she follows through the underbrush. She follows it for another few minutes until a clearing appears before her. She pauses by its edge for a moment and she takes in the sight before her. Long shadows stretch out, the trees casting their shadow far, and as the sun dapples through the branches Ontari watches as they paint the grass smudges of reds and oranges.
Ontari glances behind her once more to find Lincoln leaning against a tree, his eyes following her movements carefully, a hand on his knife.
"I will not attack," Ontari says sharply.
"I am sure you understand her cautions," Lincoln says, but Ontari thinks she senses an apology in the way Lincoln's gaze softens just a little.
And so Ontari sighs forcefully, she tries to clear her mind of the things she knows, of the years of service, and the hate and anger and betrayal that seems to exist in the very corners of her mind.
Ontari's feet brush against the grass quietly, and as she walks forward, as she treads lightly, she watches as Costia continues to lie back in the grass, her fingers playing with the green of the grass. Costia looks up though, and Ontari watches as Costia's gaze moves once from her face and then into the trees before settling back on her.
"You are being watched," Ontari says simply as she comes to a pause in front of Costia.
"I know," Costia says as she sits fully, her legs crossing.
"You do not tell them to go away?" Ontari questions.
"They would not listen to me even if I told them too," and Costia shrugs.
Ontari studies the woman for a long moment, and as she lets her gaze move over her face, she feels a slight recoiling in her stomach as she eyes the scar across her cheek and the way it twists the top of Costia's lip.
"Is it true?" Ontari asks quietly.
Costia's eyebrow raises in question.
"Is it true you are the Commander's?"
"Yes," Costia replies carefully. "But not anymore," she adds. "That died years ago," and she shrugs before looking away for a moment.
"You are not jealous of Clarke?" Ontari presses.
"No," and Costia looks back to her. "You think I am a threat to your friend?" and Costia raises her chin. "You think I will try to kill her? Take my place by Lexa's side?"
"I do not know what to think," Ontari counters.
Costia's lip lifts up though, and Ontari watches as she swipes a messy strand of hair behind an ear.
"I am no viper," and Costia gestures to the grass in front of her. "You can sit."
Ontari takes a measured look at her though, and she lets the silence linger for a long pause before glancing over her shoulder and into the trees.
"Stand, if you wish," Costia says.
But perhaps sitting is not so bad. And so Ontari takes a step forward before sitting in front of Costia, the woman's gaze careful as she takes her measure.
"Ontari, yes?" Costia asks as she stretches her legs out before her.
"Yes," Ontari nods.
"And what do you do, Ontari?" Costia asks.
"I am a warrior," she answers simply.
"A warrior?" and Costia looks at her carefully. "And what business does a warrior have following me?"
Ontari takes another pause then, and she lets her thoughts drift to the revelations she now knows, she thinks of the actions and events that have occurred, and she thinks of how Entani had been wounded, she thinks of how the Mountain Men had killed Azgeda, and she thinks of how Clarke had been taken, had been beaten and tortured and held captive for only doing what she thought was best for her clan. And she thinks of Kwin Nia. She thinks of the things she has been told, of how Kwin Nia has sided with the Mountain, has stooped so low as to sully Azgeda's name, to dishonour the dead and the warriors that still fight and suffer from the attacks.
"Is it true?" Ontari asks.
"Is what true?" Costia says.
"Is it true Kwin Nia had you captured?" and Ontari thinks of how warriors would fight on the battlefield, of how they would meet a foe head on, or perhaps issue a challenge and face an opponent in single combat. Of how they wouldn't rely on subterfuge, on cowardly tactics and dishonouring the memory of those who had already fallen.
"Yes," Costia says as her eyes harden in the fading light.
And so Ontari nods, "I am sorry," she says simply, but she takes the time to accept the signs of torture that decorate Costia's body, she takes the time to analyse the scar that rips through her cheek, the one that dips into her lip, and she takes in the smaller cuts, the ones that litter her flesh and that speak of years spent in pain.
"You are why Prince Roan was captured," Ontari says as she meets Costia's careful gaze.
"Yes," Costia shrugs. "The Commander imprisoned him after he delivered my head to her."
Ontari looks away then, and she tries to reconcile the things she knows, has been told. Her mind turns to Prince Roan though, and she remembers the first time she had seen him after his release, when he had snuck into their tent. And even now, as he works with the Commander, she thinks his treatment, his captivity far less severe. For surely, if someone had delivered a loved one's head to her, if someone had been so cruel, so cold to have done such a thing, she would have sought revenge, she would have wanted to destroy them, and she knows she would have tortured them, would have caused them pain, let them suffer.
"The Commander is not as evil as you have been led to believe," Costia says into the quiet, her eyes careful as they take in Ontari's quiet mood.
Ontari meets Costia's gaze for a moment longer then, and as she lets the silence grow, she thinks her words carry a truth and are genuine. At least somewhat.
"Goodbye," Ontari says as she stands and begins walking away, her thoughts turning, and her mind unsettled.
Clarke wakes to the noise of approaching horses, to voices carrying over the wind and to the familiar squeeze of Ontari's arm as it holds her waist, and to the unruly waves of Entani's hair as it fans out across the pillow. Entani grumbles quietly in her sleep, and Clarke watches as she scrunches her nose and buries her face into the furs before rolling over.
But she feels Ontari stir, she feels the woman squeeze her slightly before yawning and ripping the furs off them in one ungraceful motion. Entani squeals out at the sudden cold, and Ontari laughs lightly as she sits up in the bed, her hair dishevelled and her braids a mess. Ontari slips from the bed and pads her way to the small table that sits in the corner of the tent, and Clarke finds herself smiling at the familiarity she sees, and she thinks she has missed this easiness, she thinks she has missed the months prior when little more than deciding what to fix next at the Mountain was her biggest issue.
"More warriors arrive," Ontari says simply as her head follows the shadow of a column of horses that move past. "I do not know how Prince Roan holds the loyalty of so many."
"Maybe we'll find out later," Clarke says as she rises and as she moves to stand next to Ontari.
"Perhaps," Ontari finishes as she begins sorting through the clothes they are to wear.
"How's your shoulder?" Clarke asks as she eyes the way Ontari holds it to her torso carefully.
"The mornings are worse," Ontari says simply. "Stiff," and she shrugs slightly.
Entani sits up then, and Clarke watches as the healer rubs a hand across her face as she squints in the morning light. But as the light shines against Entani's stomach, Clarke's eyes are drawn to the wound caused by their ambush, and she feels the grimace that pulls her lips slightly before Entani's eyes meet hers.
"It is not so bad," Entani shrugs as she looks down at her ribs, the scar still red and raw.
"Here, Clarke," Ontari says as she pulls on Clarke's wrist as she holds out fresh clothes. "I am sure Prince Roan and the Commander wish to see us."
And so Clarke smiles, takes the offered clothes, and strips what little she wears as Entani steals another few seconds lounging on the bed.
Clarke finds Gustus standing out front of Lexa's tent, his eyes ever constant in their roaming of those that move past. Gustus spots her quickly though, and so he sends her a nod before pulling the tent flap open to reveal Roan already standing around the main table that dominates much of the tent's interior.
Clarke ducks in, quickly followed by Torvun and Ontari, even Entani comes this time, her curiosity piqued as to what may happen, and what has happened in the days that have passed since Clarke's capture and eventual return.
"Now that we are all here," Lexa begins, and Clarke's gaze snaps to her to see the woman standing at the head of the table, hands resting against the wooden edge as she stares at the large map strewn across the table top, models marking where Trikru forces must lie, others indicating where Azgeda forces lie in wait. "We may begin."
Clarke smiles once as their eyes meet, but her gaze quickly moves to the others present, and she finds Shana standing close by, her hand resting behind her back, and Clarke is sure she holds her knife as she eyes the Azgeda before her. Gustus moves through the tent before taking a place by Lexa's side. Indra stands close to Lexa at the head of the table as well, and Clarke sees the woman glance once from Ontari and Entani before her gaze settles back on Roan.
"So how is everything going to go down?" Clarke says as she comes to a stand by the table opposite Lexa.
"We must move on Nia soon," Lexa answers.
"And what exactly does that mean?" Clarke questions, and she feels Ontari's unease at the way Lexa's eyes harden. "Are you seriously thinking about attacking Azgeda?"
"We must do what we must," Lexa begins.
"No," and Clarke turns to face her fully. "We aren't attacking Azgeda," and Clarke crosses her arms. "Lets get things straight," and she gestures around the table. "I didn't refuse Nia's orders just so we could throw Azgeda into a civil war," and she gestures up and down her body. "I didn't get captured, I didn't suffer just so I could fight my own people," and she turns to face Lexa. "We aren't fighting my own people."
"And how would you suggest we wrestle control of Azgeda from Nia?" Indra asks.
Clarke thinks for a moment then, and she glances once to Ontari whose gaze remains focused on the table, her eyes taking in the models and figures that spread out over the map.
"A distraction, just like the Mountain," Clarke begins, and she sees Lexa nod quietly, and Clarke thinks the other woman lets her continue to voice her thoughts, lets her talk through the actions that run through her mind uninterrupted.
"I do not wish to be responsible for the deaths of Azgeda," Roan says, his fingers tapping against the wood.
"Then it's settled," and Clarke looks to the Trikru who stand around her. "We don't fight our own if we can help it."
"Then what do you suggest?" Indra says, her eyes hardening as she meets the glares of Ontari and Entani both.
"Prince Roan will take his forces to the capital," Lexa says simply. "Azgeda forces will not attack if Roan is seen to ride at the head of your forces."
"And that's the distraction?" Clarke asks.
"Yes," Lexa replies, and Lexa begins to walk around the table slowly, and Clarke watches the heads that turn and follow her movements as the woman's gaze remains focused on the table and the map. "Prince Roan's appearance will give any who approach pause. Azgeda will not attack," and she pauses for a moment as she shares a glance with Gustus. "Coalition forces will be present, but less than the Azgeda," she continues.
"So it looks like Azgeda is leading this?" Clarke asks. "And not a Coalition led attack?"
"Yes, Clarke," Lexa answers.
"You're planning on sending people into the capital, aren't you?" Clarke questions as she glances once to Ontari.
"Yes," Lexa answers with a nod.
"And it's not Roan because he's needed for the distraction," and again Clarke sees Lexa nod. "It's me," Clarke finishes with a sigh.
Roan steps forward though, and Clarke lets his shadow sit across the table as he meets her gaze.
"I approve this plan," he begins, and she sees him glance once to Ontari who remains quietly by her side. "You will lead the infiltration force," he says.
"And what?" Clarke questions, her eyes narrowing as she feels his unspoken words begin to settle. "You want me to confront Nia by myself? You want me to—"
And she feels Ontari kick her foot under the table.
"You will make her surrender," Roan says simply.
"How?" Clarke asks as she glances over to Ontari who glowers, and to Entani who remains quiet as she takes in the conversation that flows back and forth.
"Many of her forces will meet me at the capital's gates," Roan says. "I am sure of it," he preempts as Clarke's eyebrows quirk together.
"You've been planning behind my back," Clarke says as she looks from Roan to Lexa, the easiness of how this plan had come together not lost on her.
"Yes," Lexa says simply.
"So I just follow orders?" Clarke sighs, and she can't quite tell in this moment if she feels angry, exasperated, or simply just tired.
"Yes," and Roan's voice hardens slightly, and Clarke knows it for the order it is now. "Echo and Silence will accompany you," he says. "They will get you into the capital and from there you will have help."
"What am I supposed to do once I bump into Nia?" Clarke asks.
"Someone will be in a position to assassinate her," he answers.
"And you trust whoever this someone is?" Clarke asks.
"Be respectful," Ontari breathes out quietly, angrily.
"I do," Roan shrugs.
"Enough to gamble my life on it?"
"Yes," Roan says. "And the lives of those I send with you."
"Alright," and Clarke rubs a hand across her eyes for a moment. "I get it, I've got no say in this," and she sighs once more before her eyes flick over to Shana who smiles quietly from the side of the table.
"You will succeed, Clarke," Lexa says, and as their eyes meet, Clarke thinks she sees the smile that lives in her green gaze.
"I'm glad you've got faith in me," Clarke answers with a roll of her eyes.
The rest of the meeting passes quickly, details over how best to approach Azgeda the main focus of discussion. And so, as the sun sits at its highest, Clarke finds herself lounging on a fallen tree as she takes a moment to think over the events that have transpired. She can't quite tell whether she feels a sense of apprehension at the events that she knows will soon happen, and perhaps she thinks herself numbed to the danger, numbed to the gamble, to the risk and the reward. But as a bird catches her eye she pushes the thoughts away for the moment, the time she has left before things begin to spiral soon to expire.
Clarke hears the footsteps though, and she feels her hand fall to the knife strapped to her thigh as she turns to the presence. Her eyes narrow for a moment before Costia's form emerges from the trees, her own eyes tracing the shadows before they settle fully on Clarke.
Costia pauses a few paces from Clarke, and as she eyes her for a moment, Clarke feels herself unsure of what to say, the connection to Lexa they both share an awkward thing that exists between them.
"May I sit?" Costia asks cautiously.
"Yeah," Clarke says as she moves over slightly, her lip worried between her teeth.
"I am not disturbing?" Costia questions quietly.
"No," and Clarke smiles at her slightly. "I'm just taking a break," she finishes with a shrug.
Costia takes a seat besides Clarke, and Clarke watches for a moment as Costia's thoughts move slowly, her mind clearly shifting through worries and truths. Clarke lets the silence linger though, and she is sure it must be difficult for Costia, must be awkward and uneasy for her.
"Lexa still cares for you," Clarke begins, her tongue wetting her lip slightly.
"I died a long time ago," Costia answers, her eyes focusing somewhere in the distance.
Clarke finds herself not quite sure how to respond in this moment though, and so she simply shrugs awkwardly before she looks out into the trees, too.
"She spoke of you once," Clarke tries instead, and she isn't so sure where her own thoughts turn, where her mind tries to take this conversation.
"I am not angry, Clarke," Costia says as she turns to face Clarke. "I am proud that Lexa did not break the Coalition. I am proud my death did not destroy her."
"Hey," Clarke says though, her hand almost reaching out to squeeze Costia's arm. "You aren't dead, ok?" and Clarke lets her eyes linger across Costia's face. "I know it's awkward right now, and I know we're in the middle of a lot of stuff," and Clarke gestures between them both before jerking her chin towards the north. "Once Nia's dealt with we'll all have time to just figure things out, ok?"
Costia looks away though, and Clarke feels the sigh that leaves her lips as it pulls frustration forwards once more.
"I had never really thought about what it would be like to know Lexa had moved on," Costia begins. "Perhaps I was foolish, perhaps I was naive," and she pauses in thought. "Perhaps I was little more than a girl, too foolish to let go of a past lost to the cruelty of others," and Costia meets Clarke's gaze. "She kept me alive," Costia shrugs. "Lexa gave me strength to survive another day, to keep living."
"Hey," and Clarke reaches forwards, lets her hand wrap around Costia's fur bound wrist.
"Of all the people Lexa could have bonded with," and Costia smiles sadly at her. "I know you will give her strength," Costia finishes.
And Clarke can't quite think of much more to say, Costia's morose thoughts, her dark thoughts leaving Clarke unsure and uneasy. And so Clarke tries to think of a way to change the subject, to bring a lighter mood to Costia's mind, and as she takes in the clothes the woman wears, she finds them to be heavier furs, lighter in colour, more whites and greys than the browns and greens of Trikru.
"It looks like Azgeda rubbed off on you," Clarke tries to joke as she gestures to the colours. "We aren't so different," she finishes with an awkward smile.
But Costia meets her gaze once more, and Clarke thinks she sees the shifting of her eyes, the fading of life and the blankness that creeps into existence.
"I am sorry, Clarke," Costia says.
And Clarke's eyes narrow for a moment as Costia's words begin to sink in, and Clarke feels her eyebrows furrow, her mouth begin to open.
But she feels the prickle, she feels the sting and the bite in her thigh. And so she looks down to see a small dart sticking out of her leg and Costia's hand loosening its grasp as the woman begins to rise, her eyes casting one quick look over her shoulder.
"I am happy that Lexa found someone like you, Clarke," Costia says sadly. "Tell her I am sorry."
And the last thing Clarke sees before she loses consciousness is Costia's body as it fades into the distance.