AN: Gah, I hope somebody is still reading despite how irregular the updates are. Sorry! Editing is awful.
Previously-
90 days until the end
The radio stayed silent, and he knew this time, she wasn't coming back on the line. Dropping the priceless long distance radio onto the makeshift table harder than was smart, he turned away.
Below, he found the boy in question, tinkering around. Moonshine was store in miscellaneous jugs near the med bay. The supply was looking low, noticed Bellamy vaguely before he focused in on Jasper as soon as his boots hit the ground off the ladder.
"We need to talk," grunted Bellamy.
"Isn't that normally a girl's line?" piped up Jasper, looking up from where he'd been rearranging the jugs.
Chapter Six
Quarter Past Midnight, Bastille
* 3 day time jump *
87 days until the end
A series of beeping paused, gave one last single, long tone, and stopped.
Raven was flitting around the command center, ensuring everything was off, tucked away safe, and snug.
"Strip the lab, the lighthouse, and the mansion of all tech you can carry. Wagons will meet you once you return to the mainland, but you're going to have to figure things out on the island. You can keep doing trips as long as possible, but prioritize just in case," reiterated Clarke smoothly.
"On it," chirped Raven, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Clarke beamed at her, reaching out to hug her impulsively, which Raven startled at, but returned, light and airy, a heartbeat later.
"Wait, actually, hang on!" Once she had the other girl's attention again, Raven grinned brightly.
"Can I just stay on the island till it's done?" she asked.
Clarke pulled away to look at her, and her brow furrowed in thought.
"You don't need to come back to work on the bunkers?"
Raven shook her head, and smirked.
"Nah, we're good to go really. The door's repaired at Mt. Weather, and Second Dawn is fine, besides Monty still messing around in the aquaponics farm. I mean, I've got some ideas for upgrades, but we've got time, and they aren't necessary," Raven said.
Clarke shrugged slightly. "Alright, you can work out a schedule with Indra,"
"Yes!"
"Be in front of the tower at sunrise, remember?"
"Yea, yea, rise and shine, stupid o'clock, I know, I know, princess pushy!" retorted Raven, shoving at the blonde's shoulder to get her out the doorway finally.
Laughing, Clarke waved as she left the command center, and out of Second Dawn, leaving Raven alone in the quiet with only computers for company.
Polis tower – Skaikru's floor 86 days until the end
Stripping off a few layers confidently, she was well aware of Monty's appreciative gaze, even with the nervous, grim set to his mouth. With a grin, Harper lay down onto the couch with her back exposed. Resting her head with her face turned to the side away from him, she closed her eyes, and relaxed. Pulling first a low table, and then a hard stool over to lean over her, Monty rolled out the oiled leather healers kit Clarke had insisted he claim from the reparations after Murphy's death.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, not for the first time today.
"Don't wimp out on me." teased Harper, waiting patiently. Bare expect for the rough cotton legging, she wiggled her ass playfully. Monty smiled despite his misgivings briefly, but frowned again after only a moment.
"You could wait until Wick comes up with something. He and Raven can't argue forever."
She shook her head as well as she could without rising up.
"They're busy enough. And besides, before they left, Raven said something about staying on the island for a while. Anyway, I want this to be grounder-style. And you're the one I trust."
Sighing, he admitted defeat, knowing better than to try to stop her. Pulling out a small bottle of his own, strong brewed moonshine, he cleaned first his hands, and then her back.
"Here goes nothing." he muttered.
He moved slow, with precise motions, and fixedly remembering the lecture he'd sought at the healers' center. Sitting back, Monty assessed the outcome. Her shoulder was flushed a brilliant red from the abuse, and he wanted to bandage it even though apparently the grounders didn't always do so. She needed a chance to see it first, though, and he grabbed the mirrors he'd found for just this reason.
It was no work of art- he'd insisted he wasn't an artist, but his hand was steady, and his eye was good. The palm sized seven pointed star was high up on her right shoulder, hollow, with sharp lines. Beneath it were three crooked lines of miniatures falling from it- thirteen of them. The mark of Skaikru, the others had decided.
Hurrying, she found Caliban just inside the Polis limits, but instead of overseeing WHAT, he was glaring darkly, with a fidgeting teenager, poised seemingly upon the line between sullen and defiant, walking reluctantly at his side. Clarke hesitated, considering backing away, but Caliban had already spotted her, nodding deeply in greeting, and she smiled wryly in return. With a sharp cuff to the back of the boy's head, he increased his pace to meet her mid-way between them. The boy didn't even flinch, but at least dropped his sullen gaze to the ground.
"Good day, Wanheda," greeted Caliban gruffly.
Smiling wider, she returned his greeting, but continued on, ignoring the boy as Caliban did for the moment, "have I interrupted?"
"Never. Apparently, my impulsive, disruptive second has been sent here to me because Anya has grown tired of his nonsense at home,"
"Ah, you could introduce me anyway, if he is your second,"
"Wanheda, Prisa kom Skaikru, Mountain Slayer, this is my troublesome second who ought to know better how to act by his age, Yulian kom Trikru,"
"It's nice to meet you, Yulian kom Trikru. Your seda is a dear associate, and friend, of mine," murmured Clarke warmly, with a vague amusement at the boy's expression- his sullenness seeming to have mixed with curiosity.
Caliban sighed deeply. "Never mind the boy. What has brought you out here?"
"Runners have come with messages about spotting an army!" blurted Clarke.
When they reached the tower, Caliban sent off his second to the training yards, with a quietly growled warning to follow all orders given to him. From there, Clarke led the way, the Trikru warrior a half-step behind her, to the throne room. It had taken more than a half-hour to reach him, and back again, but Clarke couldn't force herself feel badly for making Lexa wait.
She slipped inside the throne room door, without waiting for the guards to open them for her. Behind her, she knew Caliban was following as requested. Lexa's servant had repeated the commander's desire to speak with Clarke before anyone else, regarding the runners, but the blonde had ducked that neatly with her escort's presence.
"Commander," called Clarke, seeing the shape of Lexa, in full armor, standing upon the balcony.
In quick, long steps, Lexa emerged from beneath the tattered remnants of the century-old curtains. Her gaze hardened at the sight of the warrior standing between Clarke's back, and the double doors, but when her bright eyes landed upon Clarke's tight expression, she smoothed her own out pointedly.
"According to multiple sources-" began Lexa, ignoring Caliban's presence, "there are many dozens of people marching, well supplied, towards Polis. At their estimated rate, they'll be here in no more than two hours,"
"Who are they?" demanded Clarke, rushing forwards to meet Lexa near the throne, though the commander remained standing, stiffly, and her gaze fixed solely upon the blonde.
"Unknown. Which is why I am... requesting you leave, now. Return to your camp,"
"Hell no,"
"Polis may be in need of reinforcements if this is Azgeda coming-"
"So we need to prepare- not send anyone capable of holding a weapon. If anybody is going to be evacuated, it ought to be the children, the elderly, and the sick,"
"Who will need massive amounts of protection if they're to travel now. We can't spare the warriors-"
"So we're preparing for battle. What should I do?"
"Clarke, be reasonable," pleaded Lexa.
"I can't just run, and leave the city to it's fate. Not now. The temple must be protected at all costs,"
Lexa bowed her head, breathing rapidly, and ducking away from those hard, ice chip eyes- accusing her even with her own eyes closed against them.
She turned away, putting her back to Clarke. Walking slowly away without looking back. Gradually, her breath slowed, as she mediated over the issue. Clarke remained silent, waiting, but she knew she wouldn't run away- no matter what Lexa decided.
"Then that's where you will be stationed. Titus will bring the novitiates, and an unit of seconds. They, with the Order of the Flame will be inside as a last line of defense. My warriors will be stationed outside. If... all hope falls, enter the bunker, and seal it," ordered Lexa. Clarke opened her mouth to cut in, but Lexa held up her hand, and glared sharply. "That's an order from your commander,"
Clarke's upper lip curled back in a snarl, but she held silent as Lexa turned to Caliban, acknowledging him for the first time in this argument.
"Caliban kom Trikru, your orders are to remain with Wanheda, and if the city falls, to bring her inside the bunker, and have it sealed- at any cost,"
The warrior's voice came from just behind Clarke- "Sha, heda,".
"We can fit twelve hundred people in that bunker- we can't seal it up with just a handful in there!" snapped Clarke, her silence finally shattering.
"No, as you said, what we must not do is allow it to allow into Azgeda hands," countered Lexa, her voice flat and monotone.
Dawn - 86 days until the end (4 days after Azgeda meeting)
(when Nia questions Roan as to why he has brought a healer, Remy, along for the procession,"
"The last time an Azgeda prince rode north in winter without a royal healer, it did not end well," rumbled Roan.
"Go," ordered Nia, scowling all the while.
Roan left her. Turning his back upon the queen, without a nod, without farewell, and without even a glance. He could feel the spy crowding him at one side before he reached his horse.
"That was a low blow- even for you," hissed Echo.
"My brother, my right. Not like you know anything of that, am I correct, spy? Have you even seen your brother since the sky princess freed you from the mountain?" growled Roan.
She snarled, barely restraining her temper in respect of his position as the queen's son.
He scoffed at the holding of her temper, and known vicious tongue.
As he walked away, he looked back at the spy behind him.
"You ought to," he ordered lowly.
"What?" she spat.
"See your brother. Before he goes to war,"
Echo's face remained scowling.
"Is that an order, your highness?" - Echo.
"I hear he has another son now," - Roan.
"Yes," snapped Echo. A pause, she scowled again. "I've heard," she corrected.
As Roan returned to the front of the assembling riding party, Remy leaned close.
"Was that truly wise?"
He eyed the healer plainly. ""It's good for her to be reminded I am the last of King Theo's blood,"
He mounted up, and gave the order for the rest to join him.
He gazed out of the gates, to the capital. Fron Tenac spread out before him, from the chateau's gates, as far as the eye could see.
Already, villagers were queuing up on either side of the main through-way- used by riders leaving the chateau. How they knew he'd be riding out today, he didn't know. But every time he'd ever left the palace he'd grown up for any journey, they'd done the same. They'd seen Cyril off the same way, when he'd left home and never returned. Their mother had not even allowed him to be brought home, but instead had returned the messengers who'd come with news of his death to have him carried straight to the capital's city of the dead.
Royal guards had borne him to rest.
Not even having his family bear him had she allowed the wayward prince.
Seiku took up the place at the prince's side, looking to him.
Roan eyed him carefully before greeting the warrior, one of the only ones he'd known before exile.
"I am glad you are accompanying this journey," rumbled the prince gravely.
Seiku inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Polis- The temple of the Order of the Flame
The temple was oddly muted. Torches hoisted onto the walls provided extra light even in the fading late afternoon sun. The Order of the Flame had positioned themselves in the first room, spaced out evenly in rows, upon their knees, weapons in hand, kneeling silently in mediation, and lead the novitiates into joining them. Even Charlotte, with a long glance thrown at Clarke, had followed, kneeling on the other side of Gaia, opposite Aden, in the last row. The half-dozen seconds were standing at parade rest in the front row- Yulian kom Trikru, oddly flushed, among them. Clarke knew that Titus was at Lexa's side, while Nathan, and Wells were posted just outside the temple's main entrance along with several others at each entrance, and along the perimeter.
Alone in the interior chamber, sitting with their backs against the wall behind the bunker's hatch, Caliban and Clarke waited.
"I've been on Earth longer without him, than he was on Earth at all. I never wanted him to die for me,"
"If Azgeda brings war, the coalition will fall. The ties are too frail between too many clans, and the heda's control only so strong now without the mountain to unite against," explained Caliban.
"I will back the coalition, and commander, and stand with Trikru if it comes to It, but will the clans really fall apart so badly?"
"Delfikru is a prosperous clan, and a good ally of Trikru," announced Clarke's escort blandly, with his eyes fixed ahead, watching the path before them.
Clarke hesitated, chewing at her bottom lip. "Ulrin is a good man, I think," she admitted uncertainly.
He nodded heavily, without glancing over at her. "If I had a daughter, I would watch her join with him in peace,".
It was a benediction, Clarke thought, dazed at the sentiment.
"But Trikru will not live to see you bound against your will, Wanheda. Marry who you will, or not, and your choice will be backed by steel, and blood if need be," promised Caliban.
Clarke leaned against his shoulder.
"You're a good friend, Caliban kom Trikru," she whispered.
"Can the city hold against Azgeda?" asked Clarke.
Caliban grunted. He took so long to answer, that Clarke didn't think he would.
"The ice queen is bloodthirsty, and vicious. Her people have the choice of living in the relatively temperate southern regions of Azgeda, and every one of their number being trained as warriors from birth. Or living deeper into the north, where there is ice and snow even in summer, if they are not willing to fight in the army. She's aging, and her hold weakens as she grows too old to hold the army's loyalty... but with her son returned to her side... Azgeda will answer the call to arms. Every last one of them able to hold an ax. The prince has swayed matters in her favor,"
"So... the city will come down to how many clans will answer the commander's call?" realized Clarke.
"Sha, Wanheda. If every clan stands true, we will far outnumber the ice nation, and can hold Polis. If not... Azgeda is as vicious as their queen," murmured Caliban.
"Of course, you know Azgeda, and I don't, but Prince Roan and I... we bound ourselves in blood as allies, before he returned to Azgeda,"
"I know Azgeda," agreed Caliban gruffly. "But not the prince," he conceded.
Somewhere outside the temple, a horn blew, and Caliban tensed, before rising to his feet. His sword in hand, he stood at the ready. Scrambling up, Clarke fidgeted with her own weaponry. Her sword sheathed at one side, and a handgun on her another hip, with a rifle slung over her shoulder, she gripped it so tight, she had to force herself to let it hang from it's strap when her hands began to cramp.
"If the force is as small as was reported, they won't get anywhere near this temple," vowed Caliban lowly.
"Then why the lockdown?"
Caliban let out a harsh sigh. "Runners can only tell what they know. Not the whole of anything,"
On the limits of Polis
Octavia's shoulders were taunt and pulled up high as she stalked forwards, awaiting disaster to strike.
She led the way, with the heavy footsteps of a hundred people who'd gone soft, or been raised soft, on the rig, ratcheting up her nerves higher with each passing second.
Leading the hundred chosen of Floukru into Polis was one of the least pleasant duties she'd undertaken on the ground- in this life, or the last. Not a single person over 40 had asked for a spot, but there were plenty of 30-somethings in the caravan- parents, healers, crafters... The sick, with chronic or terminal illnesses, though Octavia was sure that many of the illnesses weren't that dire as many that had chosen to remain behind were seemingly fine adults in their 20's or 30's. The disabled, too, had declared their intent to stay behind from the onset, some for things as minor as a limp remaining from a poorly healed knee injury. Some, simply, stepped away from the meeting Luna had presided over, asking the community to decide what to do about the limited spots.
"Let the families go together", one young man had murmured to Luna, before he left.
So Floukru dwindled down to 100.
And so they followed Luna, who walked beside Octavia serenely.
Just inside the Polis limits
"What are you doing here?" growled Lexa.
Costia smirked slightly. "Waiting,"
"Go back to the centre," - Lexa
"Healers go where they must," - Costia
"But seconds obey," snarled Lexa
Costia shrugged her wrap off one side- revealing the fresh, midnight black ink around her left upper arm just below her shoulder. It was not the traditional healers' band of Trikru, but the crossed knives over a tiny bottle that sat dead center on the side of her arm which always made up the center of such bands. It was hastily done, lacking the details that could be added later, and painfully fresh- her dark skin obviously inflamed around it, and gleaming with an copious applied, green tinged ointment.
"Sabine has released you," murmured Lexa, aghast.
Costia smiled, bright, and wolfish.
"All hands, at ready," reminded the young healer.
"If the worst comes, you will be needed at the centre,"
"If the worst comes, we will meet it here, together," countered Costia kom Trikru.
Lexa's hard mask slipped. Fracturing. Her eyes did not soften, but a fierce smile lit across her face. She reached out an arm, and waited for Costia to clasp it, before she drew the other girl into her embrace. Mindful of the fresh, inky wound, Lexa held her tight, breathing in the smell of her homun.
When Costia stepped back, after letting Lexa hold her for several long moments, she flashed a hard smile, and together, they turned to wait.
They listened to the horns blow when the force was spotted from just outside the city limits, but then, a whistle came. Lexa waited, wondering what the lack of noise meant.
Finally, something, someone, broke through the overgrown paths that provided a naturally barrier for the capital.
The commander was baffled at the sight of Octavia kom Skaikru, sweaty, dusty, weary, and as always, angry. Her black braids were tied up away from her neck, and her boots hit the ground with grudging force as she stomped through.
But when the second figure emerged into the city limits, Lexa swore quietly, and griped Costia's hand briefly.
Lexa did not stop until she stood just in front of Luna kom Floukru.
The commander reached out, and gripped the other nightblood's arm, pulling her close.
"Blood sister," greeted Lexa firmly.
Luna's eyes were wide, and she stood, unbalanced, not understanding.
"Welcome home," announced the commander as she released Luna and took a small step back.
"What's happened to the city?" demanded Octavia.
"Locked down to your lack of sending runners ahead with explanations for such a large caravan moving towards the capital," growled Titus, looming over the group of young women.
"Yea, well, this could have been avoided if you would have let me take a damn radio like I wanted," snarled Octavia.
"Enough!" Lexa's order roared over them.
"Floukru will be fed, and rooms prepared for them here in the tower. There is much to be discussed, Sister," continued Lexa, looking directly at the renegade nightblood.
Luna nodded serenely, but Octavia saw the flashing of her dark eyes towards the tower.
"Yes, there is. Like all of Floukru knows. Because she told them. Which is why I couldn't spare even a single warrior to send them ahead, much less send any of Flourku ahead," revealed Octavia grimly.
Titus jerked back as if struck, and Lexa's shoulders stiffened.
Luna smiled, slow and spiteful.
Lexa swallowed hard before nodding curtly.
"It doesn't change that the boat clan receives only a hundred spots- like every other clan. But come, let us talk inside, and have your people tended to. You must have made good time on a hard journey," announced the commander.
As Luna, and Octavia both started off for the tower, Lexa glanced to Titus.
"Move our guests securely into the tower before you release the city from it's lockdown," murmured Lexa quietly before she swept away in a swirl of her tattered scarlet cloak.
85 days until the end
Polis, a quarter past midnight
The radio crackled to life- jolting the commander awake in her cold bed with ease. She crossed the room to the chest she had the radios locked in.
"Polis! Clarke, Commander, anybody! Hundred Camp is evacuating. There's... there's Fire, as far as we can see. The forest's burning!"
Bellamy kom Skaikru had never sounded so afraid, in all of Lexa's dual memories.
Having watched both several of Skaikru, along with David kom Arkadia, use the tech devices, Lexa carefully responded, a bit hesitantly, "This is the Commander, I have heard your message. Go to Ton DC, they will take you in," assured Lexa.
The radio crackled with words coming through for several seconds, before she heard coughing, and finally, Bellamy's voice again.
"Commander, I don't think you understand, even from the top of the dropship, all we see is fire in every direction... I don't... I don't know we're going to make it out of here-"
"Cover your nose, and mouths, as you did to protect yourselves from the mountain's gas. Walk low, or crawl, but move swiftly," ordered Lexa sharply...
"Why aren't they responding?"
Never before had Lexa ever allowed so many people, for any reason, to enter her private chambers. Yet now- most of the Skaikru currently in Polis, along with Titus, and Indra were crowded around the trunk she'd used to lock away the radios. It was now being used as a table.
Monty fidgted with the radio. "Smoke can cause interference sometimes,"
"How much smoke does it take?" Clarke asked, flat and miserable.
"A lot," he admitted.
"Azgeda," hissed Lexa, "this is Azgeda's play,"
"there will be more to Azgeda's strategy that burning Skaikru land," Indra said.
Wells tried the radio again.
Nothing.
Clarke made for the door, "Ok, ok, I'm leaving. Now."
"I'm having a party readied, but-"
"Send them after me, but I'm going now,"
Miller ran after her, first, and easily caught up with her. Together, they rushed for the lift, their boots pounding on the dirt-covered marble floors, and downwards.
Blood was rushing in her ears. Fire. All we can see is fire, all around us. Clarke's calloused hands shook.
"Nathan's coming with me, and Charlotte, too. You, stay with Octavia," decided Clarke, as she threw her cloth and leather saddle hastily across her shying mare.
All around her, the stables were flaring to life in bursts of quick activity. Clarke was leaving now, but she knew Lexa was sending out men, who'd been given an hour to prepare. That was fine. It would take an hour to have twenty men, and their horses, and extra supplies for gods only knew what awaited them, readied. More would follow- healers were now being woken, and runners being sent out across the expansion of Trikru lands. Fire was a late summer, and early fall's problem. Late winter, when only the evergreens had leaves left to catch, and the forest floor had been soaked by snow so many times, it was never a time fires troubled them much.
Whispers filled the stable, Azgeda.
"Gaia will be riding with you. She wished to visit Mount Weather, so she can purify it." explained Wells with a brief twitch that might have been a smile.
"I will assist however I am able," added the girl in question, looking up through her lashes at Clarke.
"Safety in numbers, right? Sounds good." said Clarke, and she flashed a smile at them, trying to aim for a patience she didn't feel.
"And, uh, the commander gave us back the radios," continued Wells, a bit sheepishly, handing one over to her.
Clarke grasped it gratefully, offering a pained smile to her once-best friend.
By the time Clarke was mounted, and made it to the city limits, the riding party had grown larger than she'd expected. She, Miller, Caliban, and Gaia were joined by Charlotte, and Yulian, as both seconds had thrown themselves onto their horses hastily, but also Lincoln, leading a unit of Lexa's warriors that he'd been able to ready in time.
Towards Hundred Camp, and the fire, Clarke set a punishing pace, but everyone already knew there was nothing they could really do.
It would take too long to reach home.
