The second day of marching is much the same as the first, though your restlessness is less prominent, due to the pain in your thigh that throbs worse with every mile. You ride side by side with Indra, in a comfortable silence as you keep watch over the trudging army, whilst keeping your eyes peeled for enemies in the forest that brackets you on both sides.
You're still so surprised by the way that the warriors listen to and obey your every word, not even batting an eyelash when you order a group of one hundred strong to split off at midday, after a brief lunch, to search the woods that surround you. They meet back up with the main party a few miles down the track and report directly to you and Indra, with blood slick weapons from a small group of azgeda warriors they found camped two miles out from the road. You have a brief, silent conversation with Indra, words spoken through a quick glance and a hard nod, before you send the one hundred back out into the forest, with another fifty comrades at their backs. You command for a more thorough search, listing off a few places that you had caught glimpses of ice nation warriors on your journey to Polis, before you watch them melt back into the trees.
The army is joined later in the day by more warriors from different clans, who have heeded the commanders message for help, and whom meld in with the army effortlessly. More than two hundred men and women have now joined you from the podakru, while even more have made the short journey from the west, the people of the delfikru, three hundred strong. You feel hope and gratitude blaze in your chest with each new arrival, with every new face that slips within the ranks of warriors, strengthening them.
You're beginning to feel like you truly have a chance, when you look around at all the warriors, men and women, who march beside you. More than two thousand people, trained almost since birth in the ways of war, with more on the way, they assure the commander. There is a fire burning in your chest, splitting your lips into a grin, which lasts all through the late morning and early afternoon.
It's not until you reach a fork in the road that your smile briefly falters and the entire army stumbles to a collective stop when Lexa abruptly reigns in her horse, raising a clenched fist in the air. Even from your spot in the middle of the army, high on the back of your midnight mare, you can see what has caused the sudden pause of marching feet. You feel your breath stutter in your lungs as all your hope comes crashing down in an instant, smothered beneath the despair you can feel rising in your throat like bile.
Two groups march towards you from each path, divided down the middle by the towering trees that split the road in two.
In the space of a few seconds, you take in the scene, your blue eyes darting to the group that marches towards you from the right path, no more than a few hundred people. Even from this distance, there is something familiar about them, about the way that they are dressed and the way that they move. It is not until you see the weapons they hold that you feel your breath escape from your chest in a sudden, harsh gasp.
Marching towards you from the path that leads to the defeated Mountain, which also leads to Arkadia, holding guns in their hands are Skaikru.
Your eyes dart to the left, to the path that leads to Thera, where an army, small in comparison to the one that you travel with, marches towards you proudly, with bodies cloaked in white and grey furs and weapons ready. You can see their grim faces beneath their slashes of icy war paint, spears held high as they close the distance between you in orderly lines.
Azgeda.
Azgeda, who are drawing closer and closer by the second, but whom will surely clash with the Skaikru who walk almost beside them, if not for the trees that separate each group, much quicker than they will clash with the commander's army.
And it's that thought that sends your heels into the sides of your horse, surging forwards through the path that the warriors surrounding you create, until you're at the head of the army with Lexa at your side and Indra only a few steps behind.
And then a war horn blows and the road erupts into complete chaos.
/
The horn sounds from the Azgeda warriors, who's determined march turns into a mad rush at the sound, war cries spilling from their lips as they charge. They are not afraid, even with the terrifying sight of the thousands of warriors at your back, and the logical side of your brain that isn't gearing itself up for battle, takes a moment to wonder why. It's a suicide mission surely, you know this, and you think they must too, outnumbered as they are. A diversion? You wonder, or some plot about to unfold before your very eyes, you aren't sure.
You don't have much time to question it, but you realize very quickly that you don't need much time at all, because their objective becomes obvious within only a few seconds.
Even as you're pulling your sword from your back, Lexa's voice echoing in your ears as she commands her warriors in trigedesleng, you notice the way the azgeda army forms a spearhead, rather than spreading out as you expected.
A spearhead directed straight at you. And the commander.
"Fuck," you barely have a moment to hiss, right before Lexa lets out a furious battle cry and surges into motion, and you don't have even a second to pull her back and away from this plan which is unravelling right before your eyes. All you can do is swear viciously and follow the commander's lead, letting out a shout as you raise your sword and direct your horse at the oncoming army.
You meet them in the middle, driving through their lines with ease as the edge of your sword clashes hard against another wielded expertly by an ice nation warrior. You growl at the impact, letting your sword slide gratingly against the edge of your opponent's blade before you throw your weight into a backhanded swing that connects with the back of the man's neck, dropping him in a spray of blood and bone fragments. Another warrior stabs at your thigh with a spear as you delve deeper into the Ice Nation army and you kick the tip of the spear away before bringing your sword down on top of his head, splitting his skull open with a crack that echoes horribly in your ears. You continue to swear obscenely with every swing of your sword, directing Raven with only the strength of your thighs as your free hand reaches for the dagger at your waist, as more and more warriors crowd around you and your mount.
The plan is now unbearably obvious, as you watch the way the ice nation warriors pay no heed to the commander's army, seeming to focus their attention directly on you and the commander. They swarm around your mounts and you manage to catch a glimpse Lexa's face at the exact moment that their mission becomes apparent to her. You watch the way her green eyes widen with shock and understanding before narrowing dangerously as her full lips part in an angry snarl, her already blood soaked sword slashing furiously at the arms of a man who is reaching up to pull her from her saddle.
Cutting off the head of the snake, you think angrily, as you duck to avoid a spear that flies over your shoulder. If you and Lexa were to die, you know that the army behind you would be little more than useless without anyone to direct them. Without Lexa's strength and cunning and the power and fear your title brought, there would be next to nothing stopping Nia from crushing all that opposed her.
You snarl at the thought, hacking viciously at the throat of a man who has wrapped his arms around your leg and is attempting to pull you from your seat. Your dagger embeds itself deeply into the side of his neck, cutting through his jugular and releasing a spray of blood that arcs over your head and covers your skin in a red mist. You meet the tip of a spear with the edge of your sword, twisting the upper half of your body to direct your dagger straight through the woman's chest before you kick her angrily off your blade and watch her limp body disappear beneath the warriors who surround you.
There are so many of them, there are so many, and the only thing that surprises you is that it is Lexa who is pulled down into their midst first, instead of you.
You watch it happen from the corner of your eye, as you parry a blade that's headed directly for your throat. You watch as Lexa's sword gets briefly stuck in a man's chest and that's all the time that it takes before someone is wrapping their arms around the commander's slim waist and dragging her forcefully from her saddle.
The shout that tears from your lips is unexpected to say the least. You sound like a wild animal as you watch Lexa disappear in the crush of bodies that surrounds her and you're barely thinking when you hurriedly pull your feet from your stirrups. You definitely aren't thinking at all when you push yourself up to stand precariously upon your horses back, making an even bigger target of yourself.
An arrow flies past your head, but you barely notice, all that you can think is that there is no way that Lexa can survive the sheer amount of warriors that have surrounded her, even as you watch a few of them fall beneath her blade. And there's no one that can help her, as the azgeda warriors push back the army behind you, leaving the two of you caught in their midst alone.
The distance between you and Lexa isn't far, and in the midst of your adrenaline crazed brain, you reckon that you can jump it.
So of course, that's exactly what you do.
You absentmindedly swipe away a blade directed at your legs, bending your knees in a low crouch before you vault yourself off from your horse's back. For one, blissful, clear headed second as you fly through the air, you realize how fucking stupid you are, but then your body is falling at a rapid rate and there's just no time to think at all.
Your direct your feet straight into the chest of a man who had been watching you with wide, fearful eyes as you flew through the air, knocking him and yourself to the ground in a whirlwind of flailing limbs and weapons. You spin to your feet barely a second later, like a vengeful hurricane, bringing your sword up to deflect a blow, but only after you've slipped your dagger into the heart of the man who softened your fall.
You spin and dodge and kick and parry everything that comes your way, pushing forward slowly but determinedly through the masses of warriors who stand between you and the commander. You catch a glimpse of flowing red fabric as you thrust your dagger into the belly of man who dares to try and stop you and your reward is an unobstructed view of Lexa, who you think maybe doesn't need your help after all.
They say a cornered animal is at its most dangerous and you think that might be true if the way Lexa is fighting is any indication, facing off against no less than half a dozen warriors with her horse at her back. She is a whirlwind of strength and grace, parrying any sword that dares enter her personal space, with her lips pulled back in a feral snarl. Her green eyes are electric and her face, which is clear of war paint, is instead covered with blood.
She is dangerous and deadly, and terribly, scarily beautiful.
And then you're at her side, deflecting a blow aimed for her head, on the edge of your sword, while you bring your other arm forward to slide your dagger between ribs with a hot gush of blood. You duck beneath a spearhead, which embeds itself into azgeda warrior's arm, and you thank the wielder with a kick to the groin, swiftly followed by Lexa's sword slicing deeply into his throat, spraying you with blood.
You dodge a sword thrust, and the sharp edge just manages to catch your bicep as you twist away, leaving a long bloody line in its wake, but you don't feel the pain with the adrenaline coursing through your body. You feel invincible, actually, surrounded by dead bodies with more and more to replace them, while the commander is guarding your back.
You feel invincible, right up until the moment a man manages to get past Lexa's defenses, bringing his sword down in a wide arc, aimed straight at the commander's exposed back.
You throw your dagger, hitting the man directly in the throat, and it's just enough to direct his sword away from the commander's exposed back, the blade crashing into the dirt instead. You watch as his body falls forward, his heavy weight slamming into the commander's side, knocking her off her feet, where she then quickly disappears beneath half a dozen men that are hacking at her with swords and spears.
You watch as she disappears from view, hear her ragged voice cry out in pain and you are no longer invincible.
You're a fucking animal.
It's been so long since you've felt like this, years since that red haze has dropped over your eyes, painting the world in blood. You spin around with a cry, holding your sword with two hands and bringing it down to cut through a man's arm as if it was butter. You don't even wait to hear his scream as the limb hits the floor, before your swinging again and cutting off his head in one clean stroke.
You're barely aware of Lexa regaining her feet behind you, rolling out from underneath the bodies that had been pushing her down, her hands once more clenched around her sword, so lost as you are in the fight. You're no longer on the defensive, now you're just swinging your sword is a deadly arc, so fast and hard that anyone stupid enough to get in your way is dead before they can even think to defend against your blows. Your eyes are wild, lips pulled back in a snarl, and there's so much blood, the metallic smell invading your senses until it's all that you know.
Until you hear someone calling your name and you're panting, looking around only to find that there's no one left to fight. There's only you.
And Lexa. Lexa whose sword hangs limply by her side; who is calling your name, again and again.
"Clarke. Clarke."
"Lexa." You finally say, once the red haze begins to clear from your eyes, finally dropping your weapon to your side when you notice the way Lexa is watching you, warily.
She doesn't reach out to touch you, even though you can see that she wants to, her fingers twitching around the hilt of her sword. She simply stares into your eyes, holding your gaze for several long moments as your heart pounds painfully in your chest.
"Are you okay?" She asks you, her voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. You nod your head, even though you don't feel okay at all; your legs are trembling and every inch of your exposed skin is drenched with blood.
You are so focused on Lexa's grounding gaze, you notice immediately when her intense green eyes flicker over your shoulder, widening slightly in surprise. You react on reflex, twisting around without a second thought, your arm rearing back to throw a punch with every last bit of strength in your body.
It connects with a man's nose. Hard.
Blood sprays over your face as the man cries out in pain, falling backward and landing heavily on the ground, hands reaching up to cover a most definitely broken nose.
Your mouth gapes open when you catch a glimpse of the man's face, beneath the blood that is gushing liberally from his nose.
"Bellamy?"
"Fucking shit!"
You are still gaping, but the healer that lives deep inside your chest takes action almost immediately, despite that fact you feel half frozen with shock. Your body lurches forwards, rushing to bridge the distance between yourself and the man still lying on the ground. You drop to your knees at his side, reaching out with tentative, gentle hands to pull Bellamy's hands away from his face, ignoring the way he flinches at your touch.
"Let me see," you say, in your most no nonsense tone, pulling his hands firmly away from his nose to look at the already swelling wound. You bite your lip guiltily at the blood that drips off his stubbled chin and the dark bruises already beginning to form beneath his eyes. "Skrish. I'm sorry, Bell. It's definitely broken."
Bellamy doesn't respond, simply lays upon the ground, staring up at you with wide dark eyes. It is an effort to force yourself to meet his gaze and when you do, all you see is shock and something like wonder reflected back at you. You force yourself to smile, swallowing heavily when Bellamy reaches up to ever so gently touch your cheek with his fingertips.
"Clarke?" His whispers, his voice so reverent that it almost brings tears to your eyes. Your smile is somewhat shaky at best now as you slowly nod your head in response.
"Yeah," you reply, your voice rough with repressed emotion. "Don't you recognize me? Or did I just give you a concussion with my wicked left hook?"
Bellamy's response is a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, as he reaches out to wrap his arms tightly around your neck, pulling you down against his hard body in a hug. The movement is so sudden and for some reason, so unexpected, that your body tenses immediately at the touch. You force yourself to relax, muscles slowly turning to liquid as you melt into the embrace, bringing your hands up to grip your old friend's biceps.
"Hey," you murmur softly into his curly dark hair, which is an unruly mess around his ears.
"Hey," he responds, his voice rough with tears as he presses his nose into your neck. "Holy shit, Clarke."
You let the hug go on for several more moments before you slowly pull back, uncomfortably aware of your current destination in the middle of a battlefield and the blood that soaks your skin. Sure enough, Bellamy's cheek is slick with red from where his face had been pressed against your hair and the sight makes you cringe.
"I know you're probably in a bit of shock," you say, looking into Bellamy's still too wide eyes. "But do you mind if we move this somewhere else?"
Bellamy glances around you and nods his head shakily, taking your hand when you stand up and letting you pull him to his feet. He continues to stare at you, his hand gripping yours in a vice like hold and you are reminded of your audience when Lexa awkwardly clears her throat from behind you.
"I will order for my warriors to set up camp," the commander says when you turn to face her, her eyes flickering between you and Bellamy, glancing down briefly at your hands that are still intertwined. "Despite their crimes, we must build pyres for the azgeda warriors before we can move on and that will take some time. As soon as my tent is prepared, I will have a bath drawn for you so that you may wash the battle from your skin. Is that acceptable for you, Clarke?"
You can do no more than nod your head in response, receiving a short nod in return before Lexa is striding away, shouting orders to her people and leaving you alone with yours.
"I know that you have a lot of questions," you say as soon as Lexa has disappeared into the masses of her army, redirecting your attention to Bellamy. "And you deserve to have them answered, but please, Bell, can it wait until I'm not covered in blood?"
Bellamy seems to look at you again as if for the first time, his eyes scanning over your form and his brows furrowing as he takes in your blood soaked leathers and your red slick hands. His eyes are dark and shadowed when they meet your gaze once more and he nods his head in understanding, seeming unable to find words.
You grip his hand a little tighter, taking in his face; the new lines that have formed around his eyes and the seemingly constant furrow on his brow. There are no grey hairs streaking through his dark curly locks and his skin is a healthy tan, but he looks immeasurably older since you last saw him, as if sixty years had passed instead of six.
You think it must have something to do with the shadows in his eyes, in the way his shoulders have slumped beneath the weight of the world; you think that you probably look the same to him.
"It's really good to see you," you say softly, pulling an almost smile from the man's lips as he regards you. That almost smile had been something that you had missed deeply in the last six years.
"You too, princess," he says, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "You too."