Clarke
Yana and Clarke were playing a game in their room, some kind of board with lots of little holes, and different coloured pegs, and Clarke was only just starting to get the hang of it. Apparently Yana thought it was very funny that she'd had no idea what it was, but luckily the younger girl was a patient teacher.
They were giggling together when there was a knock at the door. One of Elody's men stood outside, and he gave Clarke a slight bow of respect as he said, "Apologies, Wanheda. The Queen is requesting your presence beside her."
It had been a few days since Elody had wanted Clarke for anything but meals, so this seemed important. Nodding her head, Clarke told him, "Wait outside, I'll be there soon." She had gotten used to talking to Elody's men- and the ones assigned to her as guards- in a commanding way. After all, it was what they and the queen expected of her.
"Dress me," she said to Yana, going to the mirror and frowning at her face. "And we should fix my hair- it looks terrible."
"You have spent much of the day in bed," Yana pointed out, smiling a little as she pulled together her things and sat Clarke down in a chair. "Don't worry, I will have you beautiful in no time." She had a big smile on her face, and Clarke couldn't help but smile back, despite her nerves about why Elody would suddenly call for her now.
Yana set her wooden comb in a bowl of perfumed oil and set it aside. "You should have a bath, but there isn't time," she said, her brow knitting in concern. She hurried to fill a bowl with water and found a clean cloth. Clarke allowed the younger girl to wash her hands, face, and neck, glad that she didn't have to do it herself so she had more time to think. Soon she felt clean and fresh, and Yana began running the comb- now soft and fragrant- through her long blonde hair.
Clarke closed her eyes and felt herself dozing just a little as Yana's hands separated her hair into sections and began forming plaits. This felt more elaborate than normal, as though Yana too sensed the importance of what was happening.
"It is finished," Yana said suddenly, jolting Clarke out of her light nap. She stood and looked into the mirror, nodding her head in approval. "Come, we must hurry," Yana told her, grabbing for the kohl and starting on Clarke's eyes with quick, efficient strokes. Clarke watched the girl's soft brown eyes as she studied her face carefully, laying down the paint with expert hands.
Once Clarke's hair and face was done, Yana pulled her to her feet and removed most of her clothing. Clarke had long since gotten used to being dressed by someone else, and she was no longer shy to stand naked in front of Yana. Normally she would have been uncomfortable to be nude with anyone, but it was as though the servant girl was her sister, or someone who didn't really count- not really. Yana helped Clarke into leather pants dyed a deep purple and edged with gold thread, a forest green shirt with maroon laces that tied across her chest, doeskin boots with a thousand buttons, and her most prized possession- the coat that Elody had given her on the day their alliance was made.
"You look perfect," Yana said, the admiration clear in her voice. Clarke smiled gently at the girl, and then she nodded her head. She left her there in the room, going outside and falling into step beside Elody's man. He led her out of the inn and down the streets, towards a building she'd never been in before. It was a single storey, but its ceilings stretched far above their heads, and it had one wall made entirely of glass. Only a few panes here and there had been broken, and the gaps they left had been replaced with trellises of ivy.
Elody was waiting inside, and she was standing with another woman who Clarke knew was the village leader of Polis- Amat was her name.
Reaching the two of them, Clarke gave a short bow of her head to show respect, and the two women did the same.
"Welcome, Clarke," Elody said warmly to her. "I trust you have been keeping well while I have been kept busy with business?"
"Yes," Clarke said with a nod and a warm smile of her own. "I've been exploring." She looked to Amat and said, "Your city is so beautiful."
"Thank you," Amat replied.
"Clarke, I have asked you here today because Amat has requested my help in dealing with some of her prisoners," Elody explained. "As you have a particular talent for doling out fair punishments, I thought of you immediately, of course."
Smiling at Amat, Clarke said, "I'd be happy to help you."
"Excellent," Amat said brightly. "Come along."
She was led to a room with a dais not unlike the one in Lexa's tent, and not unlike Elody's back in Tawa, and the three women sat on chairs spaced equally apart on top of it. Clarke knew this was a sign of great respect, that Amat was acknowledging Elody and Clarke to be as important as she was despite the fact that they were guests in her village. Clarke couldn't help but wonder how it was that Polis still didn't know of the Ice Nation's disloyalty to the coalition. She wondered if an envoy might be on its way, and how things would change when and if it arrived.
Much like it had been in Tawa, the prisoners that Amat brought before them seemed to have committed all sorts of crimes, from mild to severe. Just like in the Ice Nation, both victims and the accused could plead their case before punishment was doled out and enforced. Elody deferred to Clarke again and again, and Clarke could sense that even Amat respected her judgments. She felt good to be keeping things fair, and although there were a few difficult cases, she felt that she arbitrated well.
When they broke for lunch, Amat regaled Clarke with stories about Polis's history and her own life, while the three of them were served decadent food, just the smell of which made Clarke's mouth water. Amat had lived a very interesting life, and she was an excellent storyteller. Clarke was fascinated and hardly wanted any of it to end by the time their plates were cleared away and the next wave of prisoners began.
There was a particularly difficult case after lunch, that of a man who had killed his neighbour over a land dispute. The victim was there, and she was crying out for justice, demanding to be the one to put the man to death for what he'd done. Clarke asked many questions, but it was obvious that the woman's husband had been killed out of greed and nothing more- cold-blooded and calculated.
"And what should the punishment be?" Elody asked her, once she'd waited patiently for all the questions to be asked.
Clarke felt the eyes of both Elody and Amat on her as she said, only a little hesitant, "Death."
"The kill should go to the victim, should it not?" Amat asked her.
The widow looked ready to pounce, and Clarke couldn't really think of an argument against it- the man was guilty, the woman had been wronged, and he was sentenced to die. Why shouldn't this widow be the one to carry it out, if it would bring her a kind of peace?
"Yes," Clarke said, nodding her head. "But it must be swift. He can't suffer."
"Very well," Elody said. The woman was brought a sword, and the man was held down with his neck exposed. Clarke forced herself to watch as the woman brought the sword down with such fury that she nearly decapitated the man with that one strike. It was messy, but Clarke knew it hadn't been painful.
"You did the right thing, Clarke," Elody said gently, once the man's body was taken away, the blood mopped up, and the widow had thanked them and left. Clarke had taken special notice of the peace in the woman's eyes as she was led away to go home to her children.
"He deserved it," Clarke allowed. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"And if you did, then I would be concerned," Elody said gently. "To speak as I believe you might, justice does not have to be enjoyable, does it? It only has to be fair."
Clarke gave her a tight smile, hoping that maybe she was rubbing off on the queen a bit. But the death had still disturbed her, and she was relieved when Elody announced that the next three prisoners would be the last to stand judgment. She had an ache in her neck and she was ready for a nap, and Amat looked similarly exhausted.
"Clarke and I can handle these last few," Elody said to Amat gently. "Go to your rest- you are with child, and could use the extra sleep."
"Congratulations," Clarke said, surprised- the woman must have been newly pregnant, as there was no sign of it beneath her clothes.
"Thank you," Amat said warmly. "Both of you. Rest well."
"And you," Clarke and Elody both said, standing respectfully as Amat moved away with her guards.
Two men were brought in, accused of stealing from the village granary. Clarke questioned them carefully and ascertained that they their thievery wasn't to support a starving family, but to trade for extra goods. They were greedy and deserved to be punished, so she sentenced them to do free labour in the same granary they had stolen from. Everyone seemed satisfied with that, and they were led away.
The final prisoner, a girl who looked to be fairly close to Clarke's own age, was brought in and forced to kneel down on the floor in front of the dais.
As usual, one of Elody's men announced her in the standard format, "Here stands Lexa-"
Clarke's breath caught in her throat at the name, but no one seemed to notice. She wondered how common it was.
"- from Delphi," the man went on.
Clarke looked at the girl, dressed head to toe in robes that hid everything but her eyes. But she already knew who she was looking at.
"- who was once Commander of Twelve Clans."
Holding her breath, Clarke met the girl's eyes and she saw that familiar blue, the stoic, determined stare of someone she had once known. Lexa didn't say a word, but she spoke volumes with that gaze.
Without even knowing what she was doing, Clarke jumped to her feet. "What is this?" she asked. She was talking to Elody, but she was staring at Lexa.
"I'm sorry, Clarke," Elody said calmly. "You cannot pass judgment on this particular prisoner. You are here to speak as her victim, to attest to her crimes. I will be the one to decide her fate."
"But how?" Clarke asked, dumbfounded, horrified, confused, frightened, appalled, and something else, something worse that she couldn't put her finger on- something that she didn't like. Smug? Self-righteous? She didn't know exactly what she was feeling.
Clarke stared at the queen and asked, "How is she here?"
"I brought her," Elody answered calmly, meeting Clarke's eyes, a calmness in her own gaze. "I brought her here for you."
Staring at the queen, Clarke had no idea what to say, and for a moment there was just an eerie and expectant silence.
Finally Clarke said, "She's allowed to speak for herself, isn't she?"
Elody nodded to her guards, who walked to Lexa and pulled the headscarf away. Now Clarke understood why Lexa hadn't yet said a word. The guard untied the gag and then stepped away from the commander, who got to her feet, eyes full of fury as she looked from Elody's guards, to the queen, and back to Clarke.
"And so we meet again," Lexa said, her voice dripping with venom as she looked her up and down. "Clarke of the Ice Nation."
Clarke swallowed, and she was the first to drop her gaze. Oh, how she wished they were having this conversation in private. Quietly she asked Lexa, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?'
"Only that I have committed no crime," Lexa replied bitterly. "And even if I had, you and this woman have no authority to pass judgment over me."
"You will speak with respect when you address the queen," one of the guards nearby growled at her.
"She is no queen of mine," Lexa answered, seething.
Clarke watched Elody nod to one of her men, and he started toward Lexa. Clarke could see a rolled up bit of leather in his hand, and she knew exactly what that was- the darts… those horrible darts.
"Wait!" she said, standing upright from her throne. Everyone stopped. Turning to Elody she said, "This is not how we dispense judgment."
The queen paused, then waved her hand at the man with the darts, backing him off. "Very well," she said to Clarke. "Carry on."
Clarke stepped off the dais and walked right up to Lexa, invading her personal space, but Lexa didn't move backward to increase the distance between them. For a long moment they just stared at each other, and Clarke couldn't help but feel her gaze like a stab in her heart. But Lexa had brought them here, to this place- it was her doing, her fault that they had to go through this now.
For a long moment they were silent, just staring into each other's eyes. Clarke couldn't believe it- here they were, the two of them together in Polis, but everything else was so wrong.
Finally Clarke said, "Say something!" She could hear the desperation in her own voice.
"What do you want me to say, Clarke?" Lexa growled, her eyes like fire.
Clarke shook her head slowly, trying to figure out the answer to that question. "I want you to say that you regret what you did," she said finally. "I want you to say that you're sorry." Lexa just stood there, fuming, silent. Clarke took a step back, shaking her head. "But you won't, will you? Because you're not sorry at all."
"No, Clarke," Lexa answered. "I'm not sorry. I did nothing wrong, and I will not apologise for doing the right thing."
"But you can feel that you're right and still be sorry," Clarke said, exasperated. "You can still care that you hurt me, that you left us all to die."
"I do care, Clarke," Lexa snapped. "But caring and regret are not the same things."
Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. They were getting nowhere fast, and her frustration was matched only by Lexa stubbornness.
"Enough," Elody's voice came from behind her. "Lexa has spoken for herself, now we must move on. Clarke, as a victim, you may also have a turn to speak."
Clarke just stood there, staring at Lexa, shaking her head. "How did we get here?" she whispered. "What have we become?"
Something flickered through Lexa's eyes and she seemed to soften, just for a moment. "We are what we have always been, Clarke," she said, with surprising gentleness. "We are tools of history, you and I, and nothing more. The burdens of leadership lay heavy on our shoulders so that others can be spared that same weight. Do what you must, as I have done."
"Clarke," Elody called out sharply. "Come back here." Clarke put one foot in front of the other, turning back toward the dais, but her eyes stayed on Lexa's the whole way. When she sat down next to the queen, Elody handed her a cup of fragrant water and watched her drain the whole thing.
She asked, "Do you wish to speak, or not?"
She hardly knew where to begin, and she wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of laying out all of her and Lexa's baggage in front of everyone in that room. Finally she just shook her head and said, "No. I don't have anything to say."
Elody looked disappointed. "I believe you are making a mistake."
Clarke met the queen's eyes and said, "Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."
"Lexa is guilty of war crimes," the queen declared, ignoring Clarke's comment and addressing the room. "She left our ally, the Sky People, to certain death at Mount Weather. She betrayed her former ally, the Ice Nation, by making deals and strategies without including us in the decision-making, even though we were supposedly part of her coalition. And now she has been brought here to answer for those crimes." She stood up and said, "Leksa kom Trikru," using Lexa's personal name and not her title as a clear sign of disrespect, "I hereby sentence you to death."
Clarke had seen that coming, but still- the finality of it shocked her. What shocked her even more was when Elody said next, "As her victim, you have the right to be her executioner." Nodding to her guards she said, "Give the Wanheda a knife."
The weapon wasn't big, but it felt heavy in Clarke's hand, and it looked strange. Two guards advanced on Lexa, and Clarke watched as she fought and struggled and lost. They held her, standing behind her, one gripping each arm, keeping her toes just off the ground so she couldn't gain any leverage.
Clarke stood on the dais for a long moment, just staring at her. Then she felt pressure on her back, Elody's hand giving her a firm but gentle push, and she was walking toward Lexa.
Her ears were rushing- she could hear her own heartbeat, her blood pumping- as she walked towards Lexa.
"Remember tonDC," the queen droned, the only sound to break through. Elody's voice had an eerie quality; Clarke felt strange, like she'd been drugged. "Remember how you felt at the doors of Mount Weather," Elody continued. "Remember all the lives that were lost, and could have been lost, because of her selfishness. Remember how she loved you and then threw you aside."
Lexa's eyes were wide, but they were no longer angry. She didn't exactly look desperate, not terrified, but she was definitely afraid.
Clarke reached her and stumbled a little, even though the floor was smooth. Her hand ended up on Lexa's shoulder, which she used to steady herself. Looking into Lexa's eyes, she saw the woman's face swimming before her, and she blinked back her tears so she could look at her properly.
"I didn't want this," she whispered, as though she could change it, as though anything could ever be different.
Lexa looked back at Clarke, and it seemed like she wanted to do something with her hands- but Clarke didn't know if it was to attack or not. The guards didn't either, so they kept holding Lexa tightly.
"Remember all that she did to you," Elody's voice came again from behind her. Clarke gripped the knife harder in her hand. It felt unreal.
"Clarke," Lexa said, and her voice was quiet, tender even. "Be strong."
She was no longer trying to fight for herself, no longer trying to stop this. All she did was look up at the ceiling, close her eyes, and declare, "Death is not the end," as though to comfort herself.
"Yu gonplei ste odon," Clarke heard herself say, and then she reeled her hand back and plunged the knife into Lexa's chest.
She stabbed her where she'd stabbed Finn- because of Lexa.
She stabbed her where her own chest had ached after tonDC- because of Lexa.
She stabbed her where she'd felt broken, alone and abandoned- because of Lexa.
As the life started to drain from Lexa's eyes the guards released her, no longer a threat, and she fell forward into Clarke's arms. The knife clattered to the floor as Clarke looked on in horror. Cradling Lexa to the ground, Clarke felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she yelled at her, angrily, painfully, "I didn't want this!"
Lexa drew in a deep breath, struggling with her last bit of life, and she looked into Clarke's face. "Do not hide from what you are," she whispered to her.
But it wasn't who Clarke wanted to be; it never had been. Yet she kept becoming that person, over and over; kept hurting people, killing people she'd loved. When would it ever stop?
After Lexa was dead, Elody stepped off the dais and pulled Clarke away from the body, wrapping her up in her arms. Clarke wept into Elody's pretty gown, soaking the front of it, as the queen's fingers stroked softly over her braids.
"You have done the right thing," she murmured. "You have avenged yourself, and many others."
Clarke choked down her sobs and tried to make herself numb, at least until she could be alone. "Yeah," she whispered finally, hollowly, managing to slow her tears enough that she could look back to Lexa's body, small and lifeless. "And now I get to live with it."