Chapter 27/28
Costia pulls herself over the lip of the building, and as she rolls onto her back she takes in a large lungful of air as she lets her arms rest. It only takes her a moment longer to catch her breath before she sits up, her eyes carefully taking in the people that move not far below her. And she isn't so sure whether she finds the way Azgeda buildings don't reach up into the sky much more than two or three stories to be a benefit or a detriment to the shot she plans to take. If only because its direction can be traced quickly despite the advantage of being closer to her target.
She glances into the sky to see the sun beginning its final descent and so she turns her gaze to the streets to see Azgeda warriors beginning to approach from the distance. And Costia smiles, just a little. She smiles because she thinks Nia predictable, she knows the woman's habits after years spent in service to her, and so she knows Nia will walk down the main street as the sun sets, she knows Nia enjoys to see her people, enjoys knowing that her people prosper.
And Costia can't help but to scoff angrily, frustratedly, at the fact that despite Nia's words, despite her insistence that she always does what is best for Azgeda, that Nia is willing to throw all that away in a war that would ravage Azgeda. But perhaps Costia doesn't quite care so much. At least not much past simply wanting the woman dead.
Costia pulls the last of the bread from her pocket, and as she bites into it she lets her thoughts drift to happier times. But she sighs, she pushes the thoughts away before they can sway her actions, and she pockets the bread for now. Costia watches as the procession continues down the main street, and as they approach she sees people gather on the sides of the street, many bowing heads, many waving as Nia passes, and Costia knows she sees the enthusiasm and joy in the Azgeda that gather. And she knows she can't blame them, if only because most aren't privy to Nia's actions, aren't allowed to know what Nia does to ensure Azgeda remains strong.
And so Costia runs a finger over the arrow head, and she tests the point slightly, and she knows all she will have is one shot. She knows as soon as she kneels to fire, that she will silhouette herself on the not so tall building she sits atop, and she also knows that whether her arrow strikes or misses, her chance will be over and that she will need to flee.
She knocks the arrow then, and as she begins to draw it back slowly she lets the creak of the bowstring bring familiarity and warmth to her mind. Costia lets her eyes focus on Nia as she approaches, and as the woman continues to move down the street Costia thinks she recognises Teril who stands close by the woman's side. But yet, as Costia peers down at her target, she thinks Teril stands just a little further away than usual, just enough that she thinks she sees an opening, just barely enough that many wouldn't perceive a change in his position. And she thinks she even sees his eyes darting from window to window to roof to hidden shadow. And perhaps she feels sorry for him, just a little.
Costia draws her bow fully, she lets the pull in her arms stretch, and she lets the slight twitching in her fingers find a rhythm, her mind recognising the pattern in their slight tremble.
And so Costia rises on her knees, the sun blazing in her hair as she raises the bow and as she sights down the arrow. She breathes in just once, just enough that her lungs fill and that her beating heart shallows enough that her arm holds true. And she sees Teril's eyes flash, she sees him squint up at her movement, and she sees another guard's head snap up at her.
And then she releases.
Walking through the ranks of Azgeda warriors seems odd for Clarke. Perhaps it's because she feels the absence of her pelt and skull, its whereabouts unknown to her since Nia had taken her captive. Maybe it's because the Azgeda who look at her in this moment share in a secret, in a desire of Azgeda to not be lead into another pointless war. Or, Clarke thinks, they look at her strangely because she walks besides Roan as an equal, or as much of an equal as she could be.
Ontari stands close by her side, Torvun shadowing her steps as Entani follows behind them. Echo walks close to Roan, too, the assassin's gaze careful as she takes in the movements of those around them.
But Clarke sees Lexa's tent spring up through the parting warriors, and she sees Gustus at its entrance, the man's eyes constantly roaming from face to face before his gaze lands on the approaching Azgeda.
They come to a pause and Gustus takes only a moment to survey them before he pulls the tent flap open to reveal Lexa at the head of her war table, Indra and Anya already standing around it. Clarke even sees Wells and Kane standing on one side, Bellamy just behind them. And as Clarke follows Roan into the tent she sees warriors from Broadleaf and Glowing forest raise their heads to the newcomers before their gazes turn back to the map laid out for all to see.
"Now that we are all present," and Clarke meets Lexa's gaze for just a moment. "We will discuss how we plan to remove Nia from the throne."
And so Clarke scratches at a healing wound as she comes to a pause by the side of the table.
"I see Broadleaf and Glowing Forest have provided warriors," Roan begins simply, his head nodding to two women who stand before him. "Many thanks."
"We do it for Trikru," one of the women says. "Not for Azgeda."
"For Trikru or for Azgeda," and Roan shrugs. "You aid us all the same."
"Yes," the other says as she nods his way.
"No other clans send help?" Roan asks Lexa.
"More warriors will arrive in the coming days," Lexa answers. "But they will take some time," and she turns her gaze to the map for a moment. "They will only cross over into Azgeda lands if we call for aid," and she gestures to the Skaikru who stand close by. "They will help us communicate, and I do not wish to antagonise Azgeda more than is needed in whatever conflict is soon to come."
"A sensible decision," Roan agrees.
"And so it is decided?" one of the women says. "We simply march on Azgeda?"
"Yes," Lexa says. "With the aid of Skaikru tech we can cause enough distractions that Wanheda and her warriors will slip inside the city and force Nia to kneel or suffer death."
"She would not kneel, Heda," the younger of the women says.
"No, I suspect not," and Lexa meets Clarke's gaze evenly.
"I have warriors in place to aid in her capture," Roan adds. "Wanheda will not be alone once she is inside the capital."
"But if things go wrong?" Kane asks as he looks worriedly at Clarke.
"Nia has kept much of what has happened a secret," Roan begins. "Many do not know of what she has done and that will give our forces an advantage once inside the capital."
"And you have faith in Wanheda?" one of the women asks.
"Yes," Roan says, his eyes meeting hers.
The rest of the meeting passes quickly, and Clarke follows the discussion of how best to approach confronting whatever forces will meet them. But it comes to an end after a while, and Lexa nods to the Broadleaf and Glowing Forest warriors as they duck out of the tent before being followed by Kane and Wells, both smiling at Clarke before they exit behind Bellamy.
"So I get into the capital, I confront Nia?" Clarke asks.
"Yes," Lexa answers simply.
"You make it sound easy," Clarke says.
"Not easy, Clarke," Lexa counters. "But it will be simple."
Clarke's eyes roll then, and she thinks she senses the lifting of Lexa's lips.
"I will send Echo and Silence and a few others with you," Roan says. "But the force will be small."
"I will be able to aid Wanheda through the capital, Prince Roan," Torvun says as he steps forward.
"Good," and Roan looks from Clarke and those with her before back to Lexa. "Are there any other questions, Heda?"
"No," and Lexa nods. "The plan is sound."
"Very well," and Roan returns the nod as he glances back at Clarke.
And so Roan bows his head before turning and moving towards the tent. Clarke lingers for a moment longer, and she nods to Ontari who sends her a questioning look before following Roan out. And as Clarke looks back to Lexa she smiles briefly, her thoughts turning to Costia.
"We'll find Costia," Clarke says before she ducks out of the tent, too.
Clarke moves easily with the swaying of the horse, and as her fingers grip at the reins she tries to push the sting from where her nails remain torn from her mind. Her thoughts continue to drift from scenario to scenario though, and she can't help but to feel worried at the swelling of numbers she had seen as she slipped away from the camp. Broadleaf and Glowing Forest warriors had been amongst the trees, and she had recognised some from her time at the Mountain, and she thinks Lexa had anticipated an all out war, or a wide ranging conflict from how quickly the forest clans had provided warriors. But she thinks Roan didn't care so much, or perhaps had already come to terms with what may come to pass.
And so she glances over her shoulder and smiles at Ontari who rides easily behind her as Torvun and Entani follow. Jenma, Bronat and Leeton come, too, the Northern Azgeda eyeing the snow around them with a keen sense of anticipation. But Clarke's gaze falls to Silence and Echo who ride close together, hushed words shared between both assassins as they discuss whatever plans or contingencies they think they may need.
But Clarke thinks of Costia in this moment, too. She wonders what Costia may be doing, whether she has arrived at the capital, whether she has been captured or killed. Clarke hopes that Costia's death and lifeless body does not await her though, if only for Lexa's sake. And maybe, as she thinks over what Costia's return means, she finds it somewhat odd that she doesn't feel an anger at Lexa's actions, at her words and choices. But Clarke thinks she couldn't blame her, not for something so confronting as an old love that was once dead. If only because Clarke knows what it feels like to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, if only because Clarke knows what it feels like to be sentenced to death for only wanting to do what she thought was right for her people.
And it puts things into perspective. The fragility of ego and the swiftness of the passage of time. And she thinks of her father, of her mother's part in his death, and as Clarke's hand falls to her wrist, she feels the jumping of her heart and the frustration return tenfold.
Her fingers brush against her wrist in search of her father's watch, and it isn't until just this moment that she realises that it is missing, that it was removed some time between when she had been taken from Polis and had arrived in Azgeda.
The surprise doesn't hurt so badly though, if only because Clarke thinks, perhaps foolishly that she will be reunited with it given the chance. And so she sighs, grits her teeth and pushes the worries away. And maybe she has been doing a lot of that lately, pushing away things, telling herself she will confront them at a later stage, when things aren't so frantic, when her actions aren't cause for panic and distress. But she thinks those things a requirement if she wishes to survive life on the ground. At least for now.
"Clarke," and she turns to see Ontari eyeing her carefully.
"I'm ok," Clarke shrugs.
"Are you?" and Ontari nudges her horse just a little closer as they continue to move over the compacted snow under hoof.
"Yeah," and Clarke smiles and nods to herself. "I'll be ok."
The sun begins dipping into the horizon by the time they find a place to rest, and as Clarke eyes the sparse trees and their leafless branches, she can't quite help but feel the gentle foreboding that seems to be creeping up into the back of her mind. And she thinks it worry for the actions she is about to take, worry for the outcome, where more than her life is at risk, where her people, her clan's future is at stake. But yet again she pushes the thoughts aside as she dismounts her horse, feet landing onto the snow with a crunch and she begins moving towards the closest tree large enough to tie her horse to.
Clarke turns to find a fire being lit and small tents being set up, and so she finds herself falling into an easy rhythm as she moves about the small camp, the few with her sharing in warmth and dried meats as they prepare for the night.
Costia hits the pavement with a roll before she springs to her feet as she ducks under a hanging banner. She hears the snap of an arrow as it flashes past overhead and she curses the existence of the slippery stone underfoot.
She isn't even so sure she hit her mark, she isn't sure whether she saw the blood and the pain, or perhaps it was a flash of surprise and the glare of the setting sun in her eyes. She hadn't even had time to smirk or to smile before an arrow had been sent her way from a guard who had seen, had registered and reacted with his own arrow before hers had even finished flying through the air.
Costia races down a small side street to the shouts of guards who give chase, and she curses the fact she has no weapons to fight back with, but she knows herself only to blame. Her eyes dart left and right as buildings flash past, and she searches for an unlocked door to slip behind, an opened window to vault through, but she hears the creak and she hears the snap and so she drops to the ground with a grimace as another arrow whizzes overhead.
Costia rises to her feet just before a body slams into her and forces her to the ground. But she twists, she tucks her chin down and she slams her head forward. She feels the crunch, she feels the impact and she hears the groan of pain. And Costia strikes out with her elbow, she slams it into the man's throat and she pushes him back, her fingers snaring at the hilt of a knife she sees strapped against a thigh.
Costia hardly spares the warrior a thought before she turns and begins sprinting away. She doesn't get far before she begins to hear the shouts and stamping of more warriors who begin giving chase, but she doesn't even look over her shoulder, she barely even registers it, the only thing she focuses on is her breathing and her racing heart as she tries to find an exit, to find an escape, or to find a place to make a final stand, a place where she can hold off as many warriors as she can, for as long as she can, until her arms tire and her blood begins t—
She feels the wind knocked out of her lungs and she feels her back slam into stone as someone tackles her to the ground. Costia drives the knife forward only for the grey mass above her to shift and twist just enough that her knife just barely grazes the man's shoulder before her wrist is pinned to the ground and the blade is slapped out of her grasp. Costia struggles for a moment, and she tries to lift her hips, to twist her body enough to throw the weight off, but she feels a rough hand close around her throat and she feels the tightening of fingers.
"You missed," Teril hisses into her face as he leans over her, his eyes flashing. "Now shut up and let me help."
And so Costia glares up at the man before he punches her firmly in the nose, and she whimpers and curses as she feels the blood spurt and her eyes water.
"We will arrive at the capital soon," Echo says, and Clarke glances at her as she sees the assassin eyeing the sky. "We will try to enter from a secondary gate."
"I do not think many would question Wanheda's return," Leeton says over the sound of the wind as it whistles through the group of warriors. "Kwin Nia has kept many things a secret."
"I do not wish to make it easier for us to fail," Echo answers and Clarke sees Bronat and Silence nod in agreement.
"Our best bet is to just ride straight through," Clarke says, and she eyes the few who ride with them. "You three are going to make it look like I've got authority over Northern Azgeda," and she sees Jenma nod as Leeton and Bronat glance at Echo before back to Clarke. "You two," and Clarke glances between Echo and Silence, "speak for yourselves," and she hears Ontari snort. "And then it's obvious why us three are together," and Clarke gestures over her face and then to Ontari and Entani.
"If we are stopped I can aid in getting past any guards," Torvun says.
"Yeah," and Clarke shrugs. "Easy."
"I do not like it," Echo says though, and Clarke sees the woman clench her jaw tightly.
"You think too much like a spy, Echo," Clarke says as she hears Ontari mutter something under her breath. "Too much sneaking around, that'll only make us look suspicious, but if we just ride straight through the capital we won't have an issue," and she sees Silence nod quietly.
"Until we arrive at Nia's throne room," Echo says. "Then what do you suggest?"
"We simply tell her to give up and reveal to anyone there that she worked with the Mountain Men."
"Very well," and Echo sighs before turning her attention back to the horizon.
And so Clarke smiles slightly, the worry just a little less prominent now that she thinks a plan and a course of action has been decided.
It must be approaching sunset the following day by the time the capital's walls sprawl out before her. Clarke squint past the sunlight that remains as she looks across the snowfield to find people moving to and from the city, some weary travellers, some warriors and others going about their business. Clarke feels the tension in her mind now, and as she contemplates just how best to proceed, she can't help but to feel at odds with the scene before her.
She watches as a group mingle together in the distance, she watches as what she thinks must be a family run through the fields and she watches as a young second follows behind a warrior, the horse the child rides atop much too large for her stature.
"We do this for them," Clarke says simply, and she knows her voice carries to those around her. "Whatever happens, remember that we'll stop hundreds of death," and Clarke takes a steadying breath as she feels Ontari and Entani both shift closer to her atop their horses and as Torvun lingers close behind them, his eyes careful as he takes in the people moving about.
"We should not linger, Clarke," Echo says as she urges her horse forward. "The faster we make it into the capital the better."
"Ok," and Clarke nods to herself just once more before she clicks her tongue and urges her horse forward.
Riding towards the smaller gates that lie recessed in the outer wall is odd, Clarke finds. She thinks it odd because many Azgeda, warrior and civilian alike recognise her almost instantly despite her absence from Azgeda lands since the fall of the Mountain. But as they look to her she sees many stare in wonder, she sees some bow their heads quickly, and some wave and smile as she passes.
And she thinks it must look like she comes in urgency given the few she rides with, given the weariness she knows she feels. And she suspects that people must think she comes straight from battle to deliver a message of the last of the Mountain Men and their acts of aggression, if only because she knows the wounds and bruises across her body must still be clearly visible, if only because the company she rides with is notorious for being fierce warriors, and her status as Wanheda warranting her the command of the two assassins who accompany her.
Entani nudges her foot with her own though, and Clarke follows the healer's gaze to find a young girl, a second, with her battle scarred first. But what catches Clarke's eyes is the girl's own hair, a light blonde, her braids all too similar to Clarke's and white war paint smeared on her face in the same design as the scars that decorate Clarke's own face. And Clarke can't quite help but to smile slightly, and perhaps even blush just a little as the young second looks on with wide eyes as she rides past.
People part for them, too, and Clarke watches as a number of warriors bow their heads as she passes, many standing aside, some barking out orders for the slower civilians to step aside.
And then Clarke finds herself before the open gates to the capital as a warrior holds up his hand as he approaches.
"Wanheda," he says as he bows his head. "We did not know you were returning to Azgeda," and he glances at the others who ride with her. "Kwin Nia informed us that you were still fighting the Mountain Men."
"They have been dealt with," Echo cuts in simply, her eyes ice and cold as she stares at him.
"My apologies, Wanheda," the warrior says nervously. "I did not mean to offend," and Clarke can't help but to feel guilt at his nervousness. "Do you need your horses to be stabled?" he finishes.
"Yes," Clarke says and she thinks that regardless of whatever is soon to happen, that she will not need a horse, that there will be no opportunity to make a fast escape.
And so she dismounts, and she hears the others follow her lead before a group of seconds rush forward to take the horses by the reins.
"There are more guards than usual," Torvun says to the guard as he brushes a hand over his head, his hair growing to an itchy stubble given the amount of time they have been on the move.
"Yes," and the same guard worries his lip as he looks up at Torvun. "Kwin Nia was attacked," and he glances to Bronat who curses out in surprise.
"You did not know?" and he looks nervously to Clarke once more. "I thought maybe that was why you had come," and he trails off, "You have not come to warn Kwin Nia?"
And Clarke feels Echo begin to shift just a little in the direction of the closest warrior to them.
"We had suspicions," Clarke says quickly, eyes glancing to Ontari who comes to stand besides her. "But we have other matters to discuss with the Kwin," she finishes, and she knows half truths must be better than lying.
"Of course," and the warrior bows his head. "You may proceed, Wanheda," and Clarke smiles at him briefly as he waves them through.
And so Clarke takes a steady breath as she begins to move through the capital, her mind trying to sift through the information presented to her.
"This is easier than trying to sneak through the capital," Jenma says quietly from just behind Clarke. "We would have been spotted instantly."
"Yeah," and Clarke looks around her to see Azgeda glancing at her yet again, some subtly, some more openly.
"We should have waited until it was dark," Echo hisses as she glances up at the darkening sky.
And as Clarke eyes the next set of walls that begins to emerge from the haze of the winter cold she thinks that Echo may be correct. If only because she thinks that each wall they pass through is merely another chance for Nia to catch wind of their presence.
Lexa feels the wind as it bites into her flesh as she continues to ride at the forefront of the large war party. Roan rides besides her, and she thinks she feels his anticipation build, she thinks she feels the eagerness that rolls off his shoulders.
"We will arrive soon, Prince Roan," an Azgeda scout says as he pulls his horse up besides Roan and Lexa. "We believe we found Wanheda's tracks, too," and he gestures out to the left. "They are not so far ahead of us that we can not aid them if it is needed."
"Good," Roan says as he looks up into the dark sky.
"How do you wish for this to play out?" Lexa asks him after the scout slips away.
"We will make as much noise as possible," Roan shrugs. "We will be met by many warriors, but I believe they will not know what to do once I am recognised."
"And if it comes to open conflict?" Lexa asks. "If your mother has commanded that you are to die?"
"It will not come to that," Roan says.
"You are no fool, Roan," Lexa counters. "This was a gamble from the start."
"I know," and Roan shrugs as he looks at her. "If it comes to it then I will fight for the future of all clans."
"And you are prepared to kill your own people?" Lexa asks. "Many will have to die."
"Only one person has to die tonight," Roan says simply.
"Yes," and Lexa isn't so sure what to think in this moment.
But her head looks up to the sounds of a horn that echoes out over the lands and pierces through the sky.
"Azgeda knows we come," Roan says.
Clarke's feet take her further and further down a street, her eyes scan every face she sees, and she can't help but to anticipate something going wrong. She feels Ontari's unease, too, and she knows the woman must be feeling unsure of how to process that she moves through the capital, that she is with people who plan to overthrow her Kwin, who plan a coup. But Ontari stays firmly by Clarke's side, and Clarke can't help but to think Ontari's presence comforting after all they have been through together.
"Not far," Torvun says as he continues to walk close to Clarke, his eyes scanning the people they pass, a simple glare all that is needed for many to avert their eyes in recognition of the threat.
Clarke can't quite shake the unsettled thought that still wind their way through her mind though. And she thinks they slipped through every outer wall of the capital far too easily, each set of guards recognising her, respecting her and letting them through with little more than surprise and a reverential bowing.
"It is too easy," Echo whispers, and Clarke thinks she senses Silence nod.
"Or no one knows," Jenma says just slightly more easily, Bronat and Leeton who walk behind her also nodding in agreement.
"What of the Royal Guards?" Entani asks as she looks at Torvun.
"We will take care of them if it comes to it," Echo says simply as she gestures briefly to Silence.
"I see," and Entani grimaces as thoughts flash through her mind.
The group rounds a corner then, and Clarke stares at the large building that stands out before them. Banners and tapestries hang from the stone walls, ice and snow frost the edges and the hand print of Azgeda stands out proudly as the very last rays of the sun begin to fade away. Fires burn brightly, too, and Clarke thinks the shadows dance wickedly over the emptiness of the courtyard before her.
"Ok," and Clarke clenches her jaw tightly. "Here we g—"
A horn pierces the air, and Clarke's head whips around in the direction of the sound as it rolls through the capital, its origin distant and far despite how the stone traps it around them.
"Prince Roan has been spotted," Echo whispers.
Clarke takes one last breath as she looks back the way they came before she turns to face forward. Thoughts flit through her mind of turning back, of fleeing, of being a coward. But she knows she doesn't really consider them, doesn't really think them an option. And she knows that after the Mountain, after surviving life on the ground, that taking the easy way out isn't really surviving. Not quite, anyway.
And so she steps forward from the shadows and she begins crossing the courtyard. Ontari steps alongside her, Entani close behind them as Torvun stays firmly by Clarke's shoulder. And it seems odd that this would be the way her gamble, her decision all those months ago is playing out. She thinks it odd that no last final battle is taking place, no warriors lie dying and dead at her feet. Or maybe it it to be expected. If only because the deal that set these actions into motion was started in the quiet of a tent, a whispered threat, a gamble and a stab in the dark for the betterment of her people.
Clarke breathes out just once, and her breath comes shaky, it comes uneven and just a little frayed at the edges. And she thinks Ontari trembles slightly, too, the woman unsure of what awaits, unwilling to face the truth, or perhaps not unwilling, but in search of the truth, no matter how painful it may be.
Large doors stand before Clarke then, and she comes to a pause in front of them as two guards step forward, their eyes quickly taking in the company she keeps.
"Wanheda," the first says, her head bowing before she meets Torvun's gaze. "Torvun," and Clarke senses a familiarity between them both, or perhaps an uneasy recognition as the guard takes in Torvun's appearance. "Kwin Nia said to expect you."
Clarke smiles tightly, her fist closing over the handle of her knife as she tries to settle her beating heart.
"You may enter," and the guard bows once more as she steps aside, the doors opening behind her.
That same fire she had seen the first time she had visited the capital continues to burn in the centre of the atrium as it lies open before her. Those same pillars line the walls on either side, and those same doors sit in the wall. But this time Clarke doesn't see any children, doesn't see any warriors that linger. All she sees is the raging fire in the centre of the atrium and royal guards that stand by each pillar, their eyes tracking the newcomers, their furs glistening an ice white in the red of the firelight.
Clarke steps forward, and she thinks she feels Echo and Silence already counting the guards they see, the escape routes, the closest and the furthest vantage points. Torvun moves closer to her still, and she feels the three Northern Azgeda who move behind her begin to settle into a defensive position as they move deeper and deeper through the capital building.
The last set of double doors stands out before Clarke, and she can't help but to feel the sweat trickle down her neck as two more guards straighten and bow their heads before they begin to pull the doors open with a groaning creak.
And then the throne room lies open before Clarke. She recognises the tapestries and banners that hang from the ceiling, she recognises the distance she must cross to reach Nia's throne and she recognises the furs that drape the walls and help to fight the cold.
But Clarke's eyes snap to the throne before her.
She sees Nia sitting in it. The woman's throne backed by the large furs of a hunted beast, its head resting atop the throne. Clarke's eyes take in the guards who line the walls, who stare at her. But Clarke's eyes snap to who stands besides Nia, who remains kneeling in front of her.
And she sees Costia on her knees, her hands shackled behind her back, her nose bloodied and her mouth gagged. Clarke sees Teril standing by Nia's side, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers resting against the knife strapped to his ribs as he eyes the newcomers.
Clarke begins walking forwards then, and she feels the guards against the walls begin to move with her and she feels Ontari's unease, her discomfort. She feels Echo and Silence begin to move slightly further from the group, she feels the assassins begin to prepare for a strike or to intercept any who would attack, and she feels Entani and Torvun linger close together.
"Clarke," Nia's voice echoes out over the distance, and Clarke watches as the woman's fingers begin to drum against her armrest.
But Clarke ignores the woman's words, her feet still taking her closer and closer to Nia.
"That is close enough," Teril's voice echoes out as he steps forward, his eyes glaring harshly at Clarke.
And so Clarke stops with distance between her and Nia.
"Clarke," Nia repeats as she leans forward slightly.
"Nia," and Clarke feels the unease ripple through the throne room.
"I must admit, Clarke," and Nia's gaze moves from Clarke to Ontari then to Entani before settling on Torvun for a long moment. "I am disappointed," and Nia reclines back in her throne. "I am disappointed that Lexa was not the one to face me," and Nia lifts her hand as she gestures to Costia who remains kneeling. "It is a shame Lexa will miss her beloved's execution," and Nia smirks. "For the second time."
"Do these guards know what you've done?" Clarke asks as she gestures around them. "Do they know you sided with the Mountain Men. That you are responsible for Azgeda deaths?"
"They are loyal to me," Nia hisses. "They are loyal to Azgeda," and Nia leans forward. "Unlike you and your friends, Clarke."
"Everything I did was for Azgeda," Clarke challenges.
"Even disobeying your Kwin?"
"Even disobeying my Kwin," and Clarke lifts her chin. "But you are no Kwin of mine and you are no ruler of Azgeda if you are willing to side with those that bled our people for generations, who took our people, killed our people and turned them into monsters."
Nia's gaze turns back to Torvun before settling on Echo and Silence, and Clarke watches as Nia's lip turns up into a snarl as she takes in both assassins.
"Tell me, Clarke," and Nia's head tilts. "Who will come save you?" and Nia jerks her chin towards the exit. "Your friends have been spotted. They will not come save you," and Nia stands from her throne, and Clarke watches as she begins to move closer to Costia, the woman's head turning to the sound of Nia's approaching footsteps. "Have you come to challenge me?" Nia asks. "Have you come to take the throne for yourself? Do you think you can rule Azgeda better than me?"
"I come for your surrender," Clarke answers, but she thinks that not so likely. "Azgeda deserves a ruler who doesn't lie to its people, who doesn't betray the sacrifice of our warriors."
"So you do come to issue the challenge?" and Nia smirks as she comes to a pause just behind Costia.
And maybe Clarke had thought, albeit foolishly, that Roan would have been here in this moment, would have been present to issue the challenge directly.
"This is your last chance, Nia," and Clarke tries to let her voice turn pleading, tries to let a little softness find its way into her words. "Do the right thing. For our people."
"No," Nia snarls. "I will not let Azgeda become a relic of the past," and she grips Costia forcefully by the shoulder. "Azgeda must be stronger than the other clans to survive," and Clarke watches as Nia's expression shifts from anger to a quiet thoughtfulness for a moment before it settles on a sadness and regret. "I am sorry, though," and Nia smiles warmly at Clarke, "that Lexa will not be present to see this."
And Clarke's eyes widen as she registers what Nia plans to do. And she sees acceptance spread across Costia's face, she sees the woman meet her gaze and she sees Costia's eyes close slowly as Nia's eyes meet Clarke's and as she pulls a knife from her sleeve and brings it to Costia's thro—
But Teril moves.
Clarke's eyes snap to the man and she sees his knife flash out as he throws it to the closest guard who crumples to the ground in a groan of pain as the blade slams into his shoulder. And Clarke sees Teril move for Nia, she sees his hand draw another knife, and she sees him push Costia aside just as Nia's blade begins to cut into her neck.
But Nia reacts.
Clarke sees Nia's eyes snap to Teril just as he makes his move, and she sees the Kwin brace for the impact. And then Teril crashes into her and Clarke senses other guards begin moving forward, some shouting at Clarke and those with her to remain still, others shouting at Teril.
Clarke sees Teril's knife find flesh and she sees the blade slice across Nia's shoulder, the woman wincing only slightly at the pain. But Nia moves with the momentum of their bodies crashing together, and Clarke stares in shock as Nia merely smirks easily as she slams her elbow into Teril's face, her free hand grasping his wrist as she kicks his legs out from under him.
And then Nia's arm twists Teril's wrist and Clarke hears the crack and the gasp of pain before Teril drops his knife, his knees slamming into the stone as Nia stands behind him and pulls his arm behind his back, her face contorting in anger as she stares at the side of his face as she twists his head with her free hand to meet furious stare.
"I had suspected someone had betrayed me," and Nia spits onto the ground as she gestures for the other guards to stay back, some looking from Nia to Teril and back to Clarke, unease and uncertainty in their eyes. "I had thought that it could have been you," and Nia leans closer as she twists his wrist even more, and Clarke feels her stomach churn as she hears the grinding of Teril's wrist as it breaks further. "You put on a convincing show, Teril," Nia hisses into his ear.
"I serve Azgeda," Teril gasps out in pain as Nia pulls his face more firmly. "I serve the throne," and he winces as Nia's fingers dig into his cheek as she kneels behind him and as she brings her face to his slowly.
But Nia's eyes snap to Clarke's, and Clarke feels the grimace pulling at her lips as Nia smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she kisses Teril's cheek softly.
"You served loyally, Teril," Nia whispers into the silence. "It is a shame you decided to betray me."
And then Nia sinks her knife into the side of Teril's neck slowly, and Clarke stares as the blade disappears into his flesh. And Teril gags on it, Clarke watches as she sees his throat contort, as the muscle spasms to the intrusion and as blood begins to froth and gurgle and splatter past his lips. And Clarke watches as Nia twists the blade slowly, Teril's face tearing to the pain as blood rushes from his face, as blood begins to spurt from the increasingly torn wound in the side of his neck.
And then Nia begins to drag the knife back and forth, the edge slowly slicing through Teril's throat and Clarke can't help but to feel sick, feel anger and hate begin to bubble to the forefront of her mind as she sees Teril's eye's water and glisten in the pain.
And she thinks it must only last a few too long seconds, but the sounds that ring out seem to last an eon. But then Nia's knife slides free from Teril's throat and she stands back as she wipes the blade on her sleeve as Teril's twitching, contorting, still alive body falls face first to the ground, his throat torn open and his gagged, ragged and gurgled breathing fills the air.
"You wish to challenge me, Clarke?" Nia says as she glances to Costia who remains wide eyed on her knees as she stares at Teril's blood that pools at her knees.
Clarke takes a steadying breath, she pushes her pain and her anguish aside and she meets Nia's eyes with her own hardened gaze. And she thinks she will consider and deal with the consequences for her actions at a later time.
And so she takes a step forward and pulls her knife free.
"I challenge you, Nia."