AN: The two year anniversary of this series past a week or two ago. I might be the slowest writer, ever, possibly. In light of that, I wanted to thank everyone reading this. My idea for a brief, open ended one shot certainly spiraled out of control. Really, thank you to all the readers, and especially those who leave comments.
Chapter 13
For a Better Day (Avicii)
66 days till the end
Wind howled outside.
Despite shutters barred tight across them, window panes rattled. Outside was dark and bleak. A typical winter's late afternoon here in the land of ice and snow. Home. Roan was home. Grateful for it, too. Home had never been an easy place, not even when he was a boy and his father still lived. In the reign of his grandfather, perhaps, but Roan was not old enough to conjure up a single memory such an era. Roan did not ask for it be easy. Only for them to take him back. To remember who he was.
Warm enough to discard furs, and bright enough to make out the scars on your neighbor's face, the tavern was a comfortable refuge. The village was small enough that this appeared to be the only public house. In the back, the rented rooms were colder, but still offered shelter from the elements.
At a table near the man sized fireplace, Roan, smirking broadly, held court.
"And in Polis, who else did I find, but she herself! The Mountain Slayer! The Wanheda, princess of the stars! Twice as beautiful as they say, and blood as dark as the commander's own!" he boasted.
"Perimeter patrol won't last much longer," Seiku warned in an overtone.
Roan's eyes flickered to the low door, but his smirk returned. He called for another round of drinks.
"Black blood she willing shed to bind myself and she in a vow to bring our people together!" Roan held up his palm, the thick scar healed, but the pinkness of it still hinted at it's recent acquisition.
"Aye, but what say she of the torching of Trikru?" demanded the tavern keeper, disbelief written in his pursed mouth and narrowed eyes.
Roan grit his teeth, before baring them.
"Azgeda shows we are the stronger allies to hold than the weak Trikru," he dismissed.
"Everybody knows the sky people made their settlements in Trikru land. They're burning too," retorted another man, so far from the fire that he was still wrapped in thick wool.
"As if mere fire could trouble the commander of death," Roan grunted, shaking his head at their folly.
Then shouldn't we all be preparing to stand against her retribution?" asked Remy.
The royal healer was seated only a table away from the prince and his guard, but her shoulders were bowed, and her face weary.
The prince raised a brow knowingly. His mouth curved in a dangerous wolf's grin.
"Oh, we will stand, and so shall she, but in the end, Azgeda will show we are strong and valuable allies to the prisa kom skaikru," declared Roan.
Seiku tensed all over, eyes locked towards the door, and Roan knew his time had run out.
"Queen Nia-" began another of the patrons, but Roan scoffed.
"Sha, but am I not myself the heir to Theo's crown?"
Creaking in complaint, the thick oak door swung open. Nia's loyal trooped in from the freezing wind. The tavern shifted, flinching away. The villagers watched as the unit of royal guards approached the prince to report.
The mountain was cool, and dim inside. The rough rock walls were almost pretty. Back on the Ark, Charlotte had seen a film, once, about a place made from rocks, and she couldn't remember anything except that it had been so different. So many locked doors, and the key card Bellamy had given her had a picture of somebody they'd killed now covered by a sharp smelling black marker. Mt. Weather wasn't home. Couldn't be. Not after... Anyway, it wasn't Hundred Camp where her bedroll was crammed into a row of her people, between Clarke, or Harper, or Monroe... It wasn't Polis where she huge rooms of candles and wind chimes with Clarke or Octavia, but it was still better than the Ark. As long as she stayed out of medical.
Clarke said that the days of riding, and then their time in the wet, cold marsh were to blame for the throbbing ache in Charlotte's hip. The physical ache, at least. The mountain makes me ache, too, Clarke had confided. When Charlotte had asked, "where?", her mentor had swallowed hard, and whispered, "everywhere,".
Quiet as a mouse, Charlotte nosed through the shelves, the cabinets, the desk. She was supposed to be waiting for Clarke, and she was but... Mount Weather had not been truly occupied since the irradiation. The few previous visits by Skaikru couldn't change that. The delinquents had done a through job of emptying most rooms of clothing, photographs, and other personal items had been carted off to the extensive storage wing, along with striping the dining hall of all decoration, done on Clarke's orders. Yet it didn't mean the rooms were empty. Maps, and books, and paintings, and things Charlotte wasn't even sure of had been pushed out of the way in the hurried work of stripping the bunker.
"Oh!"
Jumping, and whimpering at the jolt of pain in her sore hip, Charlotte squeezed the crumbly copy of "The Art of Happiness" to her chest. As Clarke strode through the open doorway back into the office.
She hadn't expected her back so quickly, or maybe she hadn't been paying attention, thought Charlotte. The novitiates' teachers would not be pleased if she allowed herself to be surprised like this in their presence. Her own mentor, though, smiled at her, and Charlotte relaxed slowly. She loosened her grip on the fragile old book carefully.
Behind Clarke, a couple of boys, both Trikru, followed. Between them they carried a long oval table.
"Find anything interesting?" joked Clarke.
She was already turning her gaze towards the still crowded space where she wanted the table, to the far side of the room. The boys had come to a halt at the doorway- the table too wide, and they grumbled at each other.
"Well, um, actually," Charlotte shrugged as Clarke's face turned towards her again. "Maybe? In here," she indicted down to the bottom drawer of the desk.
With a groan at fingers caught in the door frame, the boys backed up again. Clarke cast a concerned glance at them, but both just bent their heads away from her gaze. Humphing, she focused back on Charlotte, who slipped her hand into a pocket, and withdrew a little bronze key. Dull from age, it didn't look like anything special.
Keycards, individualized to each person's living quarters, responsibilities, and privileges, took care of most everything. Combination locks secured the non-electronic spots.
Her palm up, she held it out to Clarke.
Not much in the mountain used actual metal key locks.
With a rowdy cheer, the boys maneuvered the now side-ways table through the door, and plunked it down just inside the room. Clarke's hands faltered.
"Thanks!" she said, watching the Trikru boys puff up at her gratitude. Without a word they headed for the cabinets and bookshelves she'd told them to move out of the way. They were cautious in their handling, she noticed. Determined to do their job well, even if it was just a bit of moving furniture.
Feeling Charlotte watching, Clarke used the key, and pulled open the bottom drawer of the massive presidential desk.
Atop a plain brown case, in black inky letters on a creamy envelope, was her name. Again.
Slamming the drawer shut, she didn't notice when both boys jumped, turning to her. The key dropped to the ground, once, twice, as her hands shook. Finally she got the lock turned, and shoved the key into her pocket. Standing there, her hand still grasped the key within the narrow pocket. Dante's face, weathered by age, stark white from generations of hiding... kind words, though condescending. The reminder of realizing he reminded her of Theolonious. The ghosts of Mount Weather had never really left. The boys were staring, and she shot them an impatient frown. They ducked their heads. She watched as they finally picked up the table she'd found to carry it out of the doorway. Swallowing down bile, Clarke pulled her hand from her pocket. So tightly she was holding the little, sharp edged key, it was biting into her palm. What had Dante had to say to the girl who'd murdered him? Stealing herself, she leaned back down.
"Clarke!" came Bellamy's voice from the doorway, and she straightened up to face him automatically.
All thoughts of Dante's face the last time she'd seen him were shoved away.
"Is the rover back?" she asked.
Standing in the doorway, blocking most of it with his frame, Bellamy's face was taunt.
"Yea, but that's what-"
Clarke's gaze sharpened over his shoulder, and he hesitated. Footsteps in the hall. Growing closer, and more numerous. Then Bellamy felt a hand push into his shoulder, spinning around, and moving backwards, he growled as he faced the offender. Got a smirk, all sharp edges and twisted red lips, for his trouble.
"Raven, hey," Clarke frowned.
Raven shoved back the thick traveling's cloak's hood awkwardly. Wick appeared next, waving slightly, his own trademark smirk missing. Both looked odd in the dusty cloaks.
"Horses suck," grumbled Raven, even as more people came around the corner.
"I thought you were staying-" began Clarke.
"Yea, until some... troops showed up and escorted us straight back here," grit out Raven.
With a groan, Bellamy crossed the room, to stand by Clarke.
"Ulrin? I thought you'd be back in Polis by now," exclaimed Clarke, at the sight of the familiar red hair and ruddy cheeks, but his expression finally hit her. "What's wrong?"
Ulrin looked grim, and grave, "I met an envoy of Heda's half-way along, and turned back to ride with them,"
"The envoy?" asked Clarke.
But Aden had appeared, a riding cloak still across his shoulders, his cheeks darkly flushed. Clarke heard a quick inhale behind her, and realized it was Charlotte.
"Wanheda," he greeted, his still boyishly high voice bleak, but before he could say more, leather boots on stone floors echoed. He moved aside from the doorway slightly, eyes flicking past Clarke as he did.
Narrow eyed, Luna kom Floukru slunk into the room, looking this way, and that with a fleeting gaze.
On the heels of the renegade nightblood appeared Indra, dressed for war, face painted with the black paint barely distinguishable from her dark skin in the dimly light office.
She wasted no time. That was par for the course with her, at least.
"Wanheda, there is much too discuss," announced Indra.
Clarke looked around the assembly, and pursed her lips. She threw a look at the boys who'd been helping her, still standing behind the table they'd brought her.
"Find Miller, Anya, and Caliban," she instructed.
"Gaia too," put in Indra, and Clarke offered the general a briefly apologetic smile after nodding at the boys who had looked to Clarke instead of immediately obeying.
"Anyone else we need?" asked Clarke, even as she began waving everyone over to the table.
Shrugging, Raven and Wick flopped down into the closest two chairs happily, but the rest shifted about the room warily.
"Sinclair. He's probably still in Medical with Miller and Jackson," suggested Bellamy, low enough for Clarke at his side to hear, but not many of the rest.
She repeated the name to the boys. Piping up, Charlotte volunteered to go too, and darted away, making it out of the door before the boys. The pair looked at each other as if they hadn't known it was a race, eyes widened, and mouths opened. Then with growing grins, they were off, too.
Aden watched them go with a bit of a frown, but straightened it out a breath later.
Bellamy looked the table up and down, squished a couple chairs closer together, and dragged Wallace's desk chair, rather, Clarke's desk chair, over and sat it at the head of the table. Clarke raised a brow, but lowered herself down pointedly.
"Sit, please," she repeated.
With one heavy boot coming down quietly against the stone floor, Indra paused, eyeing the occupants again. Clarke smiled at her, knowing it felt, and must look, rather strained. Certainly the withering glare it earned from Indra was proof of that. Nevertheless, the Trikru woman slowly took the chair at the foot of the table. Once she was seated, the rest fell into place to either side. Ulrin sat at the middle of the table with his back to the wall. Bellamy took up position over Clarke's shoulder, standing. The rest spread out.
The silence grew, heavy and tight.
Anya, and Caliban arrived together, barely minutes later, silent, but nodding deferentially to Indra, and Caliban at least, to Clarke.
Gaia came next. The young priestess smoothly ignored the open seat at her mother's right hand, to instead settle beside Raven, near the middle of the table.
It took a few more minutes, but at last Sinclair walked in beside Miller, looking shiftily around, spotting Clarke and Bellamy hastily. He hurried over. Miller walked slower, falling behind, and assessing the room with quite a lot more discretion.
Sinclair reached the head of the table, eyeing Clarke anxiously.
"Did you-" he began.
"No," barked Bellamy, glaring.
Clarke looked up at Bellamy at his sharp tone, and then to Sinclair, reading his uncomfortable expression.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"We-" began Sinclair again.
"It can wait," Bellamy said.
He titled his head towards the table, where most of the occupants were at least pretending not to listen in. Indra however made no attempts at such falsehood. The Trikru leader sat stiffly, her spine a straight iron rod, and her eyes watched them avidly.
Perhaps it should wait, conceded Clarke silently.
Huffing out a deep breathe, she waved her hand towards a seat for Sinclair. He had barely lowered himself when Indra launched into the issues at hand.
By the digital clock upon the wall, just beside the door that lead out to the hallway, the meeting was well into it's second hour as it finally drew to it's end.
A meeting that could have been an email, Wick had joked, an hour ago.
The grounders didn't have the knowledge to appreciate it, and Clarke's humor was resting somewhere close to rock bottom levels, had been for years at this point, but the conspiratorial tone the young engineer had whispered in made her grin anyway- a bubble of laughter growing, and just barely escaping.
Another hour of deliberation and rehashing ground out even Wick's sense of humor.
The less easy-going among them were near clawing their way out by then.
With a slow, fidgeting habit so familiar, the point of Anya's knife rested on the table as she spun it. It made Clarke think of Lexa, but, she thought, ignoring whatever argument Anya was repeating yet again, it must have been Lexa who picked it up from her mentor.
Indra leveled Anya with a stare. "The peacekeepers are under your command, but they are not to enter the mountain," she barked. "All those who survive beneath Wanheda's roof must answer to her. So says Heda,"
Anya's face flashed as if struck, and Ulrin snorted at her reaction.
"Heda also wishes for Wanheda to lock the doors now, and remain in the safety," added Aden, eyes lowered wearily to the gleaming table they gathered around.
Jutting out her lower lip, Clarke shook her head, causing her loose strands to flutter down from her braided crown. Bellamy laid a hand upon her forearm, but she edged away.
"Second Dawn needs Sinclair, and there's still others who need to make the trip. The doors will remain sealed from here on out, but I can't just hide in here months early," she objected.
"If Heda commands it-" hissed Anya,
"I will do as I must," snapped Clarke, cutting off the other curtly.
"Disobedience is punishable by-" threatened Anya.
The table startled, all eyes falling upon the commander's novitiate, when he slapped both palms onto he table as he stood.
"It wasn't an order," Aden said. His eyes swept around the gathering. "Heda sent no orders other than the sealing of the mountain,"
"Aden and I ride back to Polis after we rest, in the morning, will you ride with us?" Ulrin asked.
Clarke shook her head. "If this bunker needs to be locked down, I won't be ready by morning. Maybe a day or two, I don't know... but I will come as soon as I can,"
"You'll need to bring a unit with you," began Aden,
"The rover's back, right?" Clarke finally looked back to Bellamy.
"Yea, but we gotta talk-" Bellamy reminded, though she cut him off. Again.
"I'll come in the rover as soon I can," Clarke assured Aden and Ulrin.
"We ought to break, but reconvene with the morning. The commander's peacekeepers will not be far behind, and should arrive before sunset tomorrow," declared Indra.
"Dinner's being served by now," Clarke said, looking up at the clock again.
She then smiled up at Charlotte, where the young girl still hovered over her shoulder.
"Charlotte, please show Aden, and the others, the way to the dining hall?" asked Clarke, with a tired smile.
Cheeks flushing, Charlotte ducked her head, but murmured a soft "sha," before clearing her throat, and asking the visitors to follow her in easy trig.
The meeting adjourned for now, with Ulrin walked out with the Trikru representatives who followed Aden and Charlotte.
Luna literally darting off, presumably to the bunkroom where Bellamy had sent the Floukru clan, just Skaikru was left in Clarke's office. Miller was frozen like a statue beside the door.
Clarke was left looking around in frustration. Raven and Wick appeared as clueless as she, but the rest- Bellamy, Miller, and Sinclair were obviously sitting on some news.
"Ok, now what?" she demanded, rolling her shoulders, shifting and stretching after too long sitting too tense.
"Just... c'mon," muttered Miller.
Groaning, Clarke stood back up, and gestured impatiently for them to lead the way. Bellamy gave her a lopsided smirk.
As the made their way towards medical, Clarke was every much aware of the tension between Bellamy, Sinclair, and Miller. It couldn't mean anything good. Obviously they were feeling secretive about it, too. So instead of asking, and being brushed off, again, she tried to wait, somewhat patiently.
"So Gina did decide to come?" asked Clarke as she walked with Bellamy towards medical.
He nodded. "She worked in Redistribution on the Ark, but in Arkadia, she was apparently helping out in medical. Friends with Jackson now, I guess. He vouched for her,"
At the same time, Bellamy and Clarke pushed the main med doors open, holding them back as they went through, for the next in to catch.
There were voices from beyond the little waiting area, as Jackson and Gina poked around, but Clarke didn't notice them.
On the floor, sat a pair of little girls, on either side of a dark haired boy, who was gently cradling an ancient book, and reading from it slowly. Voice gentle, and hesitant, he stumbled over an unfamiliar phrase, just before looking up at their entrance.
Clarke whirled on her heel, glaring at Sinclair, and Miller too.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"Who is it?" demanded one of the girls, her hands helping support the heavy book they were sharing yet somehow still managing to dig her elbow into his side.
"Uhhh... Nathan... Clarke..." the boy replied, whisper-quiet. At the names, the girl's face tightened into a scowl that was overlooked by most of the room.
"Jackson! Martin! Get out here!" barked Bellamy, taking up a spot leaning against the wall of the waiting room.
"Did Arkadia let them come?" Clarke hissed, looking between Sinclair and Miller.
With an apologetic smile on his face, Jackson crept into the waiting area, Gina not far behind him. Hearing them, Clarke spun around again.
"Tell me you didn't kidnap these children?" Clarke demanded.
Gina winced, but covered it up with a bright, false smile. Jackson had no such articice. His shameful moue was honest, and Clarke's shoulders heaved. Her head bowed, with a crushed groan.
"As if Arkadia isn't going to have a problem with this," bit out Bellamy.
He remained leaning against the wall, but there was nothing causal or relaxed about him.
"What have you done?" asked Clarke.
The kids stayed quiet, and Clarke avoided looking at them.
Jackson's face wavered, and he wrung his hands, trying to come up with words to explain, and Gina was chewing her lip, somewhere between sullen and sorry. Her hands rested upon her hips, balled into fists.
"What. Have. You. Done?" repeated Clarke her eyes roving over the undoubtably guilty pair.
"They must have sneaked out of Arkadia to go explore the woods and were tragically lost- no bodies found." explained Miller, as he walked to stand where she could see him, even though she turned a silent snarl upon him as he did.
Jackson grimaced, and pulled her attention back to him. Clarke's eyes narrowed to furious slits.
"Jackson?" snapped the blonde coldly.
"The lists haven't been finished, right?" returned the young doctor weakly.
Scoffing, Clarke rolled her eyes.
"That's not the point! Yes, we have room, and yes, kids would get the first spots. But don't you think they are really going to not notice that we've kidnapped five of their few small children?" grit out Clarke, as she folded her arms under her chest restlessly.
"They play together, and have been seen trying to slip out of camp previously." reported Gina hastily.
"You mean on the same day, you, one of the only two doctors, and the most senior engineer left?" Bellamy's tone was dry, and scathing.
"We can't afford more problems with Arkadia right now," reasoned Clarke.
"Supposedly, nobody actually denied any requests about this..." Miller assured her.
"We just didn't... ask," agreed Gina.
"They're actually kids. They need someone to raise them. Not just babysit," reminded Clarke coolly.
"They're attached to Gina!" offered Jackson sincerely, his whole posture tensed, but growing hopeful.
Rubbing her hands over her face, Clarke's shoulders slumped again. Looking to Bellamy, her eyes were uncertain. Their eyes held each other's for a long, silent moment.
Bellamy broke the gaze first, his face flickering the barest touch, glaring back at the Jackson and Gina. Clarke's gaze followed his, but then shifted to Miller pointedly.
"Jackson, Miller, if Arkadia freaks, it's up to you to smooth things out," she ordered. Bellamy huffed out a still irritated breathe.
"Does that mean we can stay?" a little voice piped up, high and thin.
Clarke finally let herself look back at the kids. The tiniest of them, Lyra, Clarke remembered, had been the one to ask, and her wide, hazel eyes were locked upon Clarke.
"Welcome to the Clan of Skaikru," she announced, trying to relax her tight posture as she, finally, acknowledged them.
The little girl's mouth quivered with the flash of a smile, and a gap of two missing teeth.
The boy opened his mouth, as if to say something, but the older girl, on his other side, beat him to it.
"Clarke," she said, questioningly, titling her head, uncertain where Clarke was in the room.
"Hey, Reese," offered Clarke, making her voice clear and certain.
The girl shifted to face Clarke perfectly, already scowling at her.
"You didn't come back," she accused.
"Ree," Orion censored, his face uncertain, and the younger girl curled closer into his other side.
"It's ok, Orion," murmured Clarke gently, eyes lingering over them, before focusing back on Reese. Not that the older girl would have known Clarke's gaze had shifted. "Reese is right. I didn't. I'm sorry,"
"We waited, but you didn't come back," accused Reese again.
Clarke nodded, feeling the weight of not just Reese, and everyone else in the room, but of everyone who'd ever had to think that about her.
"Things happened," she began.
"Just like I said they would," mocked Reese, sharp and quick, and Clarke surprised even herself by huffing out a laugh. A smirk, just a tiny twist of her lips, appeared on Reese's lightly tanned face, and Clarke eased.
"You were definitely right," admitted Clarke, making Miller, and even Gina snort.
