"Civil war?" she's sure confusion flashes across her face. "…what?"
And Abby once more closes her eyes, once more takes a shaky breath.
"When the Ark came down we fought. Grounders killed us and we killed them. A lot of the parents, they wanted— you have to understand, Clarke. They were angry. Their children had been killed," and she pauses, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes briefly, "we fought with the grounders. For months."
Abby takes a deep breath again, to steady herself, to sift through the thoughts that must rage through her mind.
"We used the drop ship as an outpost. But the grounders attacked it. The guards there called for reinforcements but when we arrived everyone was gone. They'd all just vanished."
"The Mountain," Clarke realises then, her mind still awed that her people had been on the ground for months. Maybe even more than a year.
"Yeah," Abby swallows hard, "we got there and there was a message, saying that we had allies, that the Mountain had been fighting the savages too. That we weren't alone on the ground. That they would help us."
And Clarke thinks her blood begins to boil, begins to burn.
"The Mountain is evil," she hisses, "it steals my people, attacks my clan, kills Azgeda," and she sees Abby's eyes widen momentarily at her outburst.
"I know, Clarke. I know. But we didn't know. Not then," and she grimaces, "the Ark, it was too valuable to give up, so almost half of us went to the Mountain, Jaha led them, a lot of the parents who lost children too. They just wanted to be safe. To feel safe," Abby blinks away tears again, "but then the grounders attacked again. They came with more warriors, more than we knew they had—"
"—The Coalition?" Clarke asks.
"Just a few clans, the ones close by," Abby answers, "but enough. So the Commander gave us an ultimatum. Surrender or die."
And Clarke snorts, just once.
"We surrendered," Abby continues, "but we realised— we realised we were wrong Clarke. When we saw what the reapers really were. The Mountain told us that they were just crazy grounders, mutated from the radiation. But we realised what the Mountain was doing, that they were stealing grounders and turning them into these monsters" and Abby lets tears fall down her cheek once more. "I was disgusted. You have to understand Clarke, we didn't know," she whispers, a pleading edge to her voice.
Clarke reaches out tentatively, wraps her fingers around her mother's wrist and squeezes briefly.
"We tried to warn the others, to tell them what was happening. But they didn't listen. Jaha—" Abby again looks away, "—he thought we were better than the grounders, and a lot of the parents were with him. People who had lost family since coming to the ground. They wouldn't listen."
"So now you're helping the Commander?" Clarke asks.
"Yes," Abby nods in response, "we still live in Arkadia— what we call the Ark. But we help here too, in Ton DC."
"The whole Ark came down?" Clarke adds, her eyes widening for just a moment as surprised flits through her mind.
But Abby looks away once more, just briefly, just enough to bring a small sense of dread back into her mind.
"Not the whole Ark," she begins, her lip trembling slightly, "we— There were sacrifices while we were still in space. There were riots when the hundred were sent down. When parents realised what we did."
"Jaha floated people," and it comes out a whisper, and so Abby nods mutely.
"And then people found out about the problem with the oxygen. But after we sent the hundred down—" and once more Abby trails off for just a moment, "we made plans to bring the Ark to Earth. We knew it was survivable. But a few stations didn't make it," she says quietly. "All this death, Clarke. It made people angry. It made them mad and they just wanted to feel safe."
"So that's why they're still with the Mountain?"
"Yes."
The walk back to the camp is a quiet affair, her thoughts still just a moment too distracted to really recognise the people she passes. And it's strange. She thinks it's an odd feeling that sits in the pit of her stomach now, that makes her mind turn and her thoughts run freely. Abby had said most of the Skaikru were living in Arkadia, just a few here at Ton DC to help. And maybe she'll visit. Soon. But for now her mind teeters on the brink of sleep, the last of the days sun having been spent in the healer's building, telling Abby of her time on the ground. And so she had left, a quiet promise to visit again whispered past the influx of wounded warriors from the training ground, the night too dark for safe training, or as safe as slashing weapons at each other can be.
And so her feet take her back to the war camp, Torvun a quiet shadow that clings close to her, eyes ever constant. She greets the Azgeda on watch as she reaches the border, heads nodding in greeting briefly before she passes between the many tents that have been erected. And so it isn't long until she reaches the tent she shares, and so she ducks in quickly, Torvun already taking a seat by the entrance, the small fireplace already being lit.
As her eyes adjust to the dark of the shadows that cling to the tent walls, cast by the gentle swaying of the candle flames that burn around the tent, she finds Ontari sitting on a chair, her sword in her lap as she runs a whetstone over it.
And so Clarke approaches quietly, the careful rhythm of the stone running across the blade a small caress to her tired ears, the furs wrapped around her shoulders keeping the soon approaching cold of the night at bay for just a bit longer.
"Entani tells me you saw someone from where you came," it comes out just a bit cooler than usual, the orange of the flame dancing against the scars across her cheeks. "I looked for you. To see if you wanted to hunt," she looks up, her eyes gazing at Clarke's steadily. "I could not find you."
Her chin lifts, a small defiance beginning to once again rise within her chest.
"I went to find my people," it comes out firm. "I needed to know," she continues.
"And did you find your people?" Ontari says as she rises from her chair.
"My people made it to the ground," she replies, "some are fighting for the Commander," and Ontari sneers for a moment, "some are fighting for the Mountain," she finishes.
"And what are you going to do now?" Ontari presses, her eyes not wavering from Clarke's
"I—" and she pauses for a moment, looks away and takes a breath.
And what is she going to do?
She feels stuck. Stuck between three people. Those from the sky, who fight against her, and who fight with her. And Azgeda.
"I can help Skaikru, Ontari," she begins, but she sees Ontari's eyes narrow just a fraction. "I'm still Azgeda," she says, her eyes holding the other woman's gaze.
"You owe them nothing," and it comes out a bite. A cold breath carried by an anger that burns in Ontari's eyes.
"I know. But they're my people, Ontari. I can't just igno—"
"They are not your people!" it comes out angry, it comes out sudden and forceful. And it comes out surprising, and so Clarke takes a step back as Ontari advances.
"They threw you away. They left you to die," Ontari closes in on Clarke, her eyes seething quietly. "They discarded you. They abandoned you. And you think you owe them? You think you can ignore Azgeda?"
"Wha—" Ontari pushes her firmly in the shoulder, cutting the words off, and Ontari's fingers grasp at the furs that line Clarke's shoulders then, holding her in a firm grasp. And it infuriates Clarke in this moment. And so she pushes back, an anger building within her own mind, and so she presses forward, her fingers splaying out across Ontari's chest.
"I'm not ignoring Azgeda!"
"Azgeda found you! Azgeda saved you. Azgeda gave you a home. Azgeda is your people," and Ontari pauses for just a moment, her feet having carried her close enough to Clarke that her breath brushes against her nose. "The azgeda outside?" she jerks her head towards the tent entrance, "They are your people. Entani is your people. Torvun is your people," but she pauses again, takes a steadying breath, her eyes just a moment gentler, just a moment softer than Clarke has seen. "I'm your people."
She sees Ontari's eyes flick down for just a moment, she sees her brows quirk together and maybe, if she lets herself look closer, for just a moment, she sees a small slice of fear that lingers in the brown eyes that look back at her.
And so the next words Clarke hears come out a soft whisper.
"You owe them nothing, Clarke. Nothing."
It's just a soft exhale of words that grace her ears. And so she meets Ontari's gaze and she holds it for just a moment longer, and perhaps she feels the lingering touch of Ontari's fingers against her shoulder, just a brief thing, just a gentle pressure. And maybe she feels the frantic strumming of Ontari's heart where it beats beneath her hand, still resting against the rising of the her chest.
"The hunters have retur—" Entani pauses, halfway in the tent, her eyes widening as she sees Clarke and Ontari standing close, hands grasping at each other. "Never mind."
The fires burn brightly in the deep grey of a fading day and as Clarke stretches her legs out she can't help but to groan at the gentle ache pulling of her muscles. She rolls her shoulders back then, a small pressure easing, the tension carefully rolling off her. And she can't help but to smile for a moment as she sees the other Azgeda around the large fire, the glow of their scars dancing together as the night settles around them.
Her eyes find Ontari approaching, the other woman's eyes guarded, two bowls carried in her hands, full of meats and broth and roots.
"Thank you," Clarke voices as Ontari hands her a bowl before sitting down besides her, an awkward silence stretching out between them since their conversation.
Torvun and Entani join them shortly and so Clarke lets the quiet of whispered conversation lull her into a quiet revelry, her thoughts taking her where they wish. And maybe she can't help but to find herself thinking of her people, of what their life must be like now. And she feels the small embers of frustration, of anger and even hope that smoke gently within her. And maybe she feels helpless, maybe she feels unsure, and uncertain of what she should do.
She has no wish to abandon Azgeda, has no wish to turn her back on the people who have given her a second chance at life. But yet she feels responsible, in some twisted, cruel way, for the people who left her. And so she snorts at the thought, a disgusted sound lingering in the back of her throat. And Ontari's eyebrow raises in question as she eyes her carefully.
"Nothing," Clarke sighs, spooning a mouthful of broth greedily to her lips.
"Trikru and Skaikru approach," Torvun says, his eyes looking out past the Azgeda that sit around them, and so Clarke follows his gaze, her eyes finding Octavia, her mother and two other unfamiliar faces in tow.
It's a tense moment's quiet that hangs heavily around the Azgeda then, their eyes careful as they appraise Octavia, the colours she wears a stark contrast to the whites and greys of the Azgeda. And Clarke is she she even feels a number of the warriors ready weapons, if only because a person can't be too careful, too lax in the presence of another clan.
"You're brave, Trikru," Ontari says, her voice hardening, "for wandering into Azgeda camp," she finishes.
"Whatever," Octavia says as she nears, her eyes moving around carefully.
And Clarke puts her hand on Ontari's arm then, just a gentle pressure, but enough to stop her from rising, from issuing a challenge and from making a scene, and so she whispers out quietly, "we're allies," and Ontari stills, her jaw clenching tightly.
"Can we join you?" Abby asks, her eyes just a bit guarded as she looks around her.
"Yeah," Clarke replies, already motioning for them to come closer, "can you tell your guards to put their guns away though?" she asks, already spying the two who follow her, weapons held in hands, "or at least not look like they're about to shoot someone," she says, motioning around to the Azgeda around her, their eyes following the two guards carefully.
"Yeah, sorry," Abby grimaces briefly, "Bellamy, Finn you can relax," she sighs.
And Clarke rolls her eyes as she sees the two cast a furtive glance around them before slinging their guns over their shoulders. And so Octavia takes a seat by the fire, already clearing a space for the two guards, despite the grumble of the Azgeda too close to her, and maybe Clarke smiles for just a moment at the brazen young Trikru warrior. And so Abby takes a seat on a log in front of Clarke, her hands pulling the jacket around herself as she eyes the blonde before her. And Clarke can't help but to notice Abby's eyes linger across her forehead once more, and she thinks she even sees another flash of pain before it is hidden before Abby's eyes turn to Ontari, no doubt taking in her own scars, before she then looks upon Entani's face.
"You have similar scars," Abby says awkwardly, her hand waving between the three women.
"Yeah," Clarke answers, a small smile lingering across her face, "we're from the same village. Each one has similar patterns, but they're all slightly different from person to person," and Clarke motions to three other Azgeda who sit nearby, slashes across cheeks and cuts etched into their foreheads, "we're all from Ronto," she says, giving them a small smile.
"I see…" Abby finishes quietly, a grimace twitching her lips momentarily.
"You don't like them," Clarke says then, her eyes holding Abby's gaze.
"No— it's just… Sorry…" she whispers, "I'm just not used to it."
"It's no different to Trikru tattoo's," Clarke says, "all clans mark each other differently. This is how Azgeda do it."
"So…" Abby once again starts, "who are your friends?" she asks looking at Ontari for just a moment before she turns her gaze to Entani.
"Ontari," Clarke says, her head nodding towards Ontari briefly, "and this is Entani," she finishes gesturing to her other side.
And Ontari merely shrugs once, already turning her attention back to the bowl in her hands, but Entani lifts a smile for a moment before nodding to Abby.
"and the big guy is Torvun," Clarke finishes, lifting her chin in the direction of Torvun who sits quietly to the side, his eyes focused on Octavia and the two guards.
"Thank you," Abby whispers quietly, her eyes moving between the two Azgeda women, "for keeping my daughter safe."
And Ontari raises her eyes then, lets her gaze hold Abby's for a long, quiet moment.
"Clarke is Azgeda now," her chin lifts just a bit, her jaw clenches for just a moment, "we protect our own."
And Clarke thinks her mother sees the threat, sees the hidden meaning that lingers in Ontari's stare, that lives in the timber of her voice and the tone of her words.
Clarke is not one of your people anymore.
"We're all here to get along," Clarke adds in the silence that follows, a small smile gracing her lips for a moment. "We'll fight the mountain, and after we can talk more," and Abby nods at the words, at the message Clarke gives.
"How many Skaikru are at Ton DC?" Clarke asks, her eyes turning to the two guards.
"Kane's probably with the Commander right now and Jackson's back at the healer's building," and she is sure she smiles at the mention of her mother's fellow doctor, "we've got a mechanic here, too. She's helping fix some radios so we can communicate more easily between Arkadia and Ton DC," and then Abby turns to the two guards, "then there's Finn," and one of the guards smiles warmly at Clarke, his hair hanging in his eyes, "and Bellamy and Octavia Blake," Abby finishes.
And Clarke is sure she does a double take as Octavia smirks at her, "I guess we're more alike than you thought, Clarke," Octavia says, "we both have secrets, and we're both more grounder than sky person now."
"Yeah…" and she had heard rumours and whispered words of the illegal second child. And she thinks a smile lifts her lips once more at the constant revelations that she finds herself exposed to. And maybe it hasn't sunk in yet, maybe she hasn't really come to terms with the truth that her people live on the ground, but maybe despite the dangers it's a nice thing. It's a kind thing. If only because her mother sits before her, eyes kind as they gaze at each other.
"Wells…" Abby begins, "he went with Jaha to the Mountain," she says quietly, and Clarke is sure she sees a pain linger with her eyes. "Just in case you wanted to know."
And Clarke grimaces for a moment. And the anger and the hate that had filled her years ago seems less now, seems muted, softened. But maybe she can hold a grudge. At least for the time being, and so she shrugs once.
"I'd ask if you wanted to come back to Arkadia," Abby once again says as she looks around her before turning back to Clarke, her eyes gazing at the braids in her hair, at the furs she wears, before her eyes fall to the knife strapped against her thigh, "but I can see you're comfortable here," she finishes quietly.
"I'll visit," Clarke replies, her gaze softening, "I promise."
The conversation continues as the night goes on, just small bits of information passed between mother and daughter about their time on the ground, about what they've missed. Bellamy and Finn add small things too, when they can, their eyes ever wary of those around them. But despite the mundane nature of the words they exchange, Clarke can't help but to feel the ever looming presence of the Mountain that hangs over their shoulders, that sours talk of a future and next time. But for now she think she can live in ignorance for just another night. And so she smiles when she can, laughs when it's needed and maybe she even enjoys having her mother here, on the ground, alive.
The moon sits high in the night's sky by the time she bids Abby and the others farewell, and so she heads back to her tent, the embers of the dying camp fire drifting away in the night's breeze. And as she passes the few Azgeda still milling about quietly she feels a prickling against the back of her neck. And so she turns around carefully, her eyes searching for the gaze that she is sure follows her and her eyes find the torches that burn along the rising of the hill, and as she follows the path they create her eyes land upon a lonely figure silhouetted against the tent that sits lonesome on the hilltop. And she is sure their eyes meet for a long moment despite the distance and she can't help but to feel the Commander's eyes hold her own, can't help but to think they follow her movements as she pauses. And so she sighs out quietly, before turning, before continuing to her tent. And perhaps she even feels that steady gaze as she passes Torvun, ever present at the tent entrance as she ducks inside.
A tired yawn escapes her lips as her eyes adjust to the dark that sits within the tent, and so she pauses for just a moment before continuing forward, already loosening the furs around her shoulders. And as she nears the fur lined bed in the corner she finds Entani's sleeping form already sprawled out, her gentle breathing living within the quiet of the tent.
She finds Ontari sitting on the edge of the bed too, a chest band and small shorts all she wears, a bloodied dressing around her ribs. And so a sigh leaves her mouth as she nears her.
"Let me look at that," she says, already pulling her healers bag from the table. And so she kneels before Ontari, fingers reaching out tentatively. "When did this happen?" she asks as the bandages come away, just a small wince leaving the other woman's lips.
"Earlier today," comes the quiet reply.
"You didn't clean it," Clarke continues, already wiping away the crusted blood with a damp cloth.
"I did not think it was serious," Ontari replies.
"It could be if you don't clean it," Clarke sighs back as she brings a candle closer, the flame giving light to the work she prepares for. And she smiles briefly at the noncommittal sound that leaves Ontari once more.
She works quietly, the needle she brings through Ontari's flesh a quick, stinging thing that leaves the other woman's muscles clenching briefly, quiet grunts of pain all she hears.
"The Skaikru do not seem so useless," Ontari says, her eyes following the needle Clarke pulls through her skin.
"No," Clarke hums out, "they'll help with the fight," she finishes as she wipes away the fresh blood gently before she reaches for the fresh bandages.
"Sorry," Ontari whispers quietly as Clarke begins wrapped her ribs, "for before," and so Clarke looks up from her work, her gaze meeting Ontari's.
"It's ok," she shrugs, her hand resting against the other woman's knee for a moment.
"I was still angry from meeting the Commander," she adds lamely.
"I know," Clarke says as she puts away the healers bag.
And so Clarke turns back to the bed, Ontari already leaning back. And as Clarke reaches the bed she tugs the remainder of her heavy leathers off before she slips into the furs, sleep already tugging at her tired mind. And she is sure sleep reaches her even before her eyes close.
But maybe she smiles as she feels Ontari wrap a tired arm around her, and maybe she smiles as she feels the press of another tired body against her.
Her feet take her up the winding path lit by torches, the morning sun lingering in the sky, and she is sure sweat must drip a steady trail through the white of the war paint that covers her face.
"So," she begins as she turns to Ontari, "who's going to be here?"
"Whoever leads the other clans will be present," comes the reply, Ontari no doubt already tensing for whatever confrontation awaits them.
They near the entrance to the Commander's tent, voices already greeting them and so Clarke sighs just once, glancing quickly to Ontari and Torvun before the guard waves them forward.
Her eyes adjust quickly to the tent's interior, a number of candles burning quietly, giving enough light to the many that stand around a war table, a large map spread out on the top of it.
Clarke's eyes find the Commander gazing at her carefully, her chin lifting for just a moment as Torvun pushes through the throng of grounders, Clarke and Ontari close behind him until they stand closer to the table.
Clarke's eyes move from face to face then and she finds Octavia standing next to Indra, both Trikru warriors standing by the Commander's side, Anya and Gustus standing on the opposite side. She finds a number of others from different clans eyeing them carefully, some expressions less hostile, some more so, she finds Kane standing close by, too, Bellamy and Finn by his side and she nods quietly at them from across the table, Kane's eyes just a moment softer as their gazes meet. And she smirks when she hears Ontari curse out a warrior who gets too close, the red-browns of his clothing bleeding into the red feathers that are braided through his hair.
"Enough," and silence drops quickly as the Commander raises a hand briefly, eyes moving from person to person. "Now that we are all here we can commence planning how we will attack the Mountain."
Clarke thinks she rolls her eyes countless times as the planning dissolves into threats and shouting matches as warriors argue over the best strategies to engage the Mountain and how best to attack the reapers. But the Commander once more raises a hand lazily.
"Jomm," she says, eyes falling to a warrior, clothing stained a deep blue, "Skaikru will deal with how to gain access to the Mountain and how to remove the threat of the acid fog," and Jomm pauses mid tirade, his mouth snapping shut.
"And how will that be done?" Clarke asks in the silence, her own curiosity spiking.
"Explosives will get us through the main door," Kane says, his eyes falling to those around him, "and we have an inside man," he continues, gentle murmurs echoing out through those present. "He'll be able to take out the acid fog."
And Jomm curses loudly, "you rely on the skills of one person?" he says, disbelief colouring his tone. "What if he is captured? What if he is killed? What if he fails? Then what? We all die in the forest? The acid fog will kill us all."
"We have faith in our guy," Kane says, his hands coming up placatingly.
"This is why I have summoned you all here," the Commander cuts in, "with Skaikru we can breech the Mountain's defences, and with the Coalition together we can destroy the Mountain."
The war meeting continues for what seems like hours, many of the arguments held over why they must rely on a person inside the Mountain to destroy the acid fog, or how he can be trusted. And she finds many clan representatives not trusting of Skaikru, often dismissing Kane's input.
And so her eyes roll once more as Jomm once again begins questioning Skaikru worth.
"What use is skaikru if all they provide is an inside man?" he growls out, a finger pointing to Kane, "and we have to protect them? They can not even protect themselves."
And Bellamy bristles, she sees his eyes narrow as his jaw clenches, and Jomm sees it too, and so a smirk plays across his face.
"You know it is true," and a sneer lifts his lips, "you can not fight. You rely of tech, on these guns," he says motioning to the weapon slung over Bellamy's shoulder, "you are weak."
"Stand down, Bellamy," Kane says, turning to push Bellamy back.
"See, even their warriors won't defend their own honour," he laughs once more.
And maybe Clarke feels slighted, if only because she feels just a small belonging to her people, despite all that has happened. And so she takes one deep breath, holds it for just a moment before she shoves past a warrior, before she comes to a stop by the Jomm's side.
And so she smiles as she snakes her hand out quickly, his attention focused on Bellamy's fuming gaze.
And it's a quick strike, a brief attack that smashes against his nose, that bloodies it and causes him to reel backwards painfully. And so she lunges forward, grabs him around the collar, trips his feet before pulling him forward.
Torvun lunges forward then, smacking a warrior who moves on Clarke before he takes a stand by her side, a growl rumbling in his chest as he stares down a third man of Jomm's clan, Ontari moving close to Clarke's side as well, a harsh glare being sent to any that meet her eyes.
"Skaikru are fighting with us," Clarke hisses into Jomm's face. "Get used to them being here."
And then she releases him with a push backwards, her chin lifting as he stares at her angrily.
"Azgeda scum," he hisses, wiping a hand over his bloodied lip, "you know nothing but unthinking violence. What good can you do in this fight?"
"We at least fight," Ontari says, her voice an icy sneer, "and what can you lake people offer?" she continues, her voice rising, "besides float in your lakes?" and a few chuckle quietly in the silence that hangs heavily.
"Enough," the Commander says, her voice cutting into the noise that slowly rises. And she steps forward, her guard and Anya moving by her side as the others part for her. "We fight together. Skaikru and the Coalition. We share a common enemy in the Mountain," she finishes, her eyes moving from face to face.
She follows the arguments that move back and forth, Kane often the target of many insults, his observations often dismissed entirely. And so her eyes narrow from where she stands as Jomm once more insults Skaikru, even insulting the warrior that stands besides Kane. And she knows she will need to intervene soon, will need to quiet the discontent that is beginning to breathe within the tent, but a movement catches her gaze and as she follows it she thinks a small, barely there whisper of a smile lingers across her lips as she reads the movements of Clarke and what the woman intends to do. And so she sees her take a deep breath before lunging forward, before striking Jomm in the face and grasping him around his collar.
And maybe she can find pleasure, for just a moment, at the arrogant Lake Clan representative's pain. But she feels tension rising and so she steps forward.
"Enough," she calls it out, her eyes falling onto the warriors around the table. "We fight together. Skaikru and the Coalition. We share a common enemy in the Mountain," and she knows discussions and war planning will not get finished today and so she raises a hand lazily.
"Leave us," she calls out, "we will meet once more tomorrow," and so her eyes follow the warriors that grunt an acceptance to her words. And she nods just briefly to Kane as he leads the Skaikru out of the tent.
"Clarke," she calls out, "remain," she finishes as the blonde turns, their eyes meeting, and she is sure she sees a confusion lingering within the blue that holds her gaze. And so her eyes follow the movements of Ontari who lingers close by Clarke's side, a quiet whisper shared between the two women, and she sees Torvun lingering too, his eyes moving to the Trikru that remain, and she is sure now that he assesses the danger and his chances of being able to defend Clarke should she call out for him. And then the two other Azgeda duck out of the tent, Clarke standing awkwardly on the opposite side of the war table. And she raises her hand then, signalling for Anya, Indra and Octavia to also leave, and so they do with a quiet Heda whispered to her, Gustus the sole other occupant in her tent.
"You have met the Skaikru," she begins, her hand coming to rest on her knife out of habit.
"Yes, Commander," and the response comes out just a moment brisk and stilted, and so her chin lifts just slightly, her eyes gazing steadily into Clarke's.
"You will work with Skaikru and you will speak for Skaikru at these meetings," and she sees Clarke's eyes widen for a moment.
"Why?"
"You will be more effective at these clan meetings" she answers, her head tilting just slightly, "the clans do not respect Skaikru and their customs. But they will respect Azgeda, and so they will respect you. If only because you wear Azgeda marks," she continues, and she feels just a small tightening in her chest at a long gone memory as her eyes follow the scars that live on Clarke's face.
"So, what? I'm just something for you to order around? A tool to be used?" Clarke replies, her jaw clenching, her eyes burning with a stubbornness that brings just a moment's smile to her lips.
"No," she says, her eyes holding Clarke's gaze, "not a tool to be used. But a weapon to be wielded in our fight against the Mountain."
And she sees the other woman's eyes roll, her arms coming to rest across her chest, arms folding tightly.
"Nia was right about you," Clarke says then as she leans forward just a bit, and Lexa's eyebrow raises, and maybe she feels Gustus rumble quietly from where he stands. "You think you can tell people what to do, that because you're Heda you have the power to make us do what you want?"
And she thinks an anger burns quietly within her mind, something that writhes and snarls within her heart. But perhaps it's a strange, sinking feeling in her stomach she feels as she eyes the way Clarke's own gaze moves between her and Gustus.
"I am Heda," she says, her voice hardening, her eyes holding steady, and she pauses for just a moment as her thoughts catch up to her. But the words that come next surprise her, make her think of words she should have said and times long gone. "You do not know everything, Clarke," and maybe she curses herself as Clarke eyes her carefully, her brows furrowing for just a moment.
"I'll do it," she says then, "can I go now?" and she gestures towards the entrance.
"Yes," she answers, and so her eyes follow as Clarke ducks out the entrance.
"You give her too much leeway, Heda," Gustus says as she moves to her throne, "she speaks ill of you."
"Yes, Gustus," she sighs as she leans into her throne.
"You give her too much power. She may come from the sky, but she is Azgeda now. She carries their scars, she wears their clothes. She speaks to you and disrespects you like Azgeda. Yet you give her power over Skaikru too?" he continues quietly. And so she turns her head to Gustus, her eyes thoughtful, and she knows he doesn't question her to undermine or disrespect, only to ensure she has considered all options.
"She is special, Gustus," she says after a moment, "Nia will have poisoned her to the Coalition already. I am sure Nia has plans for her, I am sure Nia is herself wielding Clarke as a weapon. So for now I will do the same."
"And if she is more loyal to Azgeda than to Skaikru or the Coalition?" Gustus adds quietly, his eyes shifting briefly to the tent entrance.
And so she turns to Gustus fully, her mind already sifting through the options she is left with.
"Then I will have her killed."