Though it was warm by the fire Lexa felt a shiver run down her spine. A gentle breeze just barely made its way into the cave, but it was enough to pull her from the light sleep that had taken ahold of her. She felt a featherlight touch trace her shoulder blade, and it was enough to tickle just a bit.

She took in a deep breath then, she opened her eyes and she waited until her vision adjusted to the dimmed light, to the shadows that danced around her cast by the small fire and then she rolled around.

Lexa came face to face with Clarke who looked at her, an inquisitiveness in her eyes, the hand that had been tracing her shoulder blade now laying in the small space between them, the other holding a warm fur to her body. Clarke's hair fanned out around her head, the wild mane of blonde braids a crown of sorts that let itself lay where it pleased in that moment.

Perhaps it was the afterglow of the moment, perhaps it was the firelight that bronzed Clarke's skin, whatever the reason Lexa could almost see Clarke as someone other than the nightblood she was, her grey flesh seemed just a little warmer, a little more the colour of everyone else who lived on the Earth.

Lexa reached out and let her fingers intertwine with Clarke's, she smiled just a little as they both seemed to fight for control just for a moment before their hands found a compromise in the space between them. And then she sighed as she began to think.

"What now?" Lexa asked. She didn't think she needed to elaborate. In some way things seemed more official than any other moment of intimacy that they had shared before.

Clarke hummed a sound that almost seemed purr-like like as it settled in the air, she closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking, seemed to be considering Lexa's question.

"After the Mountain's defeat your people will need protection from those that deem them still a threat," Clarke said as her eyes opened.

Lexa kept quiet as she let Clarke's words settle. She let herself consider them, too. Mostly because it was an ever present reminder that life wasn't as simple as she wanted anymore.

"We will make our courting official," Clarke added.

Lexa felt the corner of her lips twitch up at the corners, maybe because the way Clarke had worded it reminded her of films of old, maybe because it seemed to farfetched. And maybe because she realised she didn't think Clarke had planned whatever had happened between them. Perhaps that thought should of occurred to her earlier, perhaps she should have considered this all a game of Clarke's to get her and her people's lives to be held wholly in the palm of Clarke's hand. But as she thought a little more she found herself thinking it not planned, herself not deceived.

"It's that simple?" she asked.

"No," Clarke answered. "It is not," and she shrugged a naked shoulder. "But it will be so. I will command it."

Lexa let the silence sit between them once more. She didn't think of anything in particular in that moment either for she found herself simply happy to take in the moment, to forget about the building tension she had felt starting the last few days.

"How'd this happen?" she asked as her gaze moved from where their hands were held and down to Clarke's forearm, to a scar that ran its length, the white raised wound an injury she was sure had been severe, deep, something long since healed.

Clarke's own gaze moved down to scar and Lexa thought she saw something in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"A blade," Clarke began quietly. "Pierced into my arm very deeply," and she lifted her arm up into the air slightly. "It is still there," and she pulled the furs blanket from her body and lifted her leg to show another long raised scar Lexa had noticed earlier that ran the outside length of her thigh. "Another blade," and Clarke let the fur fall back against her. "There are a few more."

It was a simple explanation and one that oddly made sense to Lexa. Perhaps she would normally have asked more, but since coming to the ground she had known to learn to take things in stride.

"Hey," Lexa asked eventually.

"Yes?"

"Why'd you show me that clearing?" Lexa didn't entirely intend for the conversation to suddenly go in this direction but it did and she decided to roll with it. She'd be lying if she hadn't been just a little curious as to why Clarke had shown it to her, too.

Clarke seemed to consider Lexa's question for longer than usual before answering.

"When the attack begins," Clarke said quietly. "Anya will need to help us," Clarke paused as she seemed to consider her words once more. "There will be a person inside," Clarke said. "One that no one else knows about yet."

There was a sudden wickedness to Clarke's tone that made Lexa's skin crawl.

"It will be a contingency plan of sorts, Lexa of the Sky People," Clarke said and she sat, the furs pooled around her waist and the firelight bathed her naked body in an orange glow. "My warriors will sacrifice themselves in the tunnels while a single person will wreak havoc inside the Mountain."

"Who?" Lexa asked as she sat.

"Anya will need to unlock the doors to where my people are held captive," Clarke said, and Lexa didn't miss that she just slightly ignored her question.

But as Lexa continued to think, continued to look at Clarke she realised what Clarke wasn't saying.

"Where your people are held captive," Lexa echoed Clarke's words as her mind quickly realised. "One of the nightbloods let themselves get caught?" Lexa's eyes narrowed, perhaps because she didn't know if she should be saying what she was saying, maybe because she knew Clarke had been keeping that from her.

"Anya will open the door and let whoever is inside free," Clarke said it simply. "They will ambush those in the Mountain and destroy them while their warriors throw themselves at my warriors in the tunnels."

Lexa didn't really know what to say in answer to that. She wasn't a strategist, she wasn't someone who deigned to think they knew everything. But still, she thought the plan Clarke spoke of was dangerous, risky.

"What if your inside person is weaker than you're expecting them to be?" Lexa asked. "What if they aren't in any condition to fight alone? What if they can't get any weapons?"

"They will succeed," Clarke said simply.

There was an odd finality to Clarke's tone in that moment that told Lexa that whatever quiet moment they had managed to steal was now gone. For a brief moment she felt sadness at the blunt reminder that life would never be simple. But she took the changing mood in stride and sighed.

"Ok," Lexa said and she sat up, too, her own furs falling around her waist as she stretched and looked towards the cave's exit in an attempt to judge the hour.

"We should prepare to return," Clarke said.

And with that Clarke stood and moved towards their discarded clothes.

Ontari stood with her back straight. One hand lay on the pommel of her sword and her other on her hip. Before her lay the dark and the depths of the tunnels that wove their way under Ton DC. There was a slight dripping sound that echoed out somewhere in the distance, its presence perhaps a small comforting reminder of Azgeda, of the ice plains and the ice falls and snow fields that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

She hoped that after the Mountain's fall she would be able to spend more time in Azgeda. She had missed it. She had missed its biting, fierce cold, and she had missed the comforts of old haunts she called home.

But Trikru lands weren't so bad. Polis wasn't so bad either. At least not as bad as they could have been.

Her mind turned to the closer future though. And she began to consider what fighting in these tunnels would be like. She had studied the Mountain Men and their tactics for as long as she could remember. The conflict that she knew soon to come an ever present entity that hung above the heads of every warriors who called the Coalition home.

Perhaps as a child she would have felt dread at what was to come. But in that moment all she felt was an eagerness to wet her blade, to plunge it deep and to strike true. She didn't fear for her own life. Not entirely. Perhaps what she did fear was not doing enough, not carrying out her duty as well as she could.

"It will be soon," Jake's voice spoke beside her, his tone even, perhaps with a hint of eagerness that mirrored hers.

"It has been a long time coming," Ontari said, her gaze never leaving the tunnel's depths that stretched out before her.

Ontari remained quiet as she considered everything she had been told, and though she knew she didn't know everything, though she knew Heda Clarke had kept things secret from almost everyone, she had faith in her, belief that she was doing what was best for their people.

And perhaps it was blind loyalty, perhaps it should be considered foolish, but Ontari thought she'd follow Clarke into the depths of the Mountain if she needed to.

She smiled at an old memory they had shared what seemed like lifetimes ago. And though she knew there was nothing permanent between them, though she had never let herself think a little too hard about the why and the how of whatever it was that they shared, she enjoyed the moments.

She began thinking of Lexa then. There was no jealously, there was no anger at what Lexa and Clarke had seemed to have formed. But there was curiosity. There was a predatory want to know more, to gleam more, to stalk what information out of Lexa that she could. But she wouldn't. Not if Clarke had made her claim.

And so Ontari sighed as she shook those thoughts from her mind. Maybe she had been spending too much time near the Mountain, near the stench of the reapers.

"How long do you think you will be able to hold the Mountain Men here?" Jake asked quietly.

Ontari knew he asked not because he doubted her abilities, but because he needed to know when to expect their rear to be attacked and how best to draw as many Mountain Men away from the Mountain as possible.

"Not long," Ontari said. "It will be a running fight," she said and she glanced back. "Perhaps it will be slower if they set a reaper pack upon us, in the dark they will stumble in their rage and eagerness to get to us," and she shrugged. "We will be ready."

"We have eliminated as many reapers in the forest as we can without drawing too much attention to our increased presence," Jake said quietly. "It will not be enough to reduce their numbers noticeably if they descend upon you," apology tinged Jake's tone.

"We do what we must," Ontari said.

She hadn't expected the fight to be easy. That would have been foolish.

"What think you of Lexa and these Sky People?" Jake asked.

The question didn't entirely surprise her. But she thought it interesting that Jake ask, that he voice what must have been at the least a slight doubt.

And so Ontari took the time to truly consider his question, she took the time to recollect the things she had seen and heard and experienced since the newcomers had come crashing down onto the ground and upended years of planning.

"They are more competent than I initially believed," Ontari said. "Not in any measurable way. Not in any way that would threaten us," and she shrugged a furred shoulder. "But they were smart enough to side with us. Or at least some of them were," and Ontari honestly wondered just how close they had come to having Heda Clarke order their deaths. She had been by Clarke's side long enough to know at one point in time they had been a violent mood swing away from being entirely eliminated from the equation if things had gone just a little differently.

"Yes," Jake said. "I did not think much of Lexa at first," and he seemed to be thinking of more than just politics, war, dangers and clans.

"As did I," it was a truthful answer.

If Lexa had been a lesser woman she wouldn't have stood up to her as much as she had, from the sparring sessions to the more quiet conversation they had shared, though they hadn't been many.

"I dislike the man, more," Ontari continued. "There was no thought in his head when he tried to rescue Lexa."

"Foolish but commendable," Jake said with a quiet chuckle.

"Perhaps," Ontari was loathe to admit that much. "If we are to bring whoever survives into the Coalition then perhaps it is not so bad we have some who do not have grander plans than what is simply put in front of them in the moment."

"Those who have no plans of the future are easily swayed in the present and can make potent enemies," Jake challenged quietly.

Ontari took another moment to consider Jake's words before she found herself agreeing.

"A tool to be used or a weapon to be turned against us," perhaps on the nose, perhaps far too obvious. But the conversation in the dark, the metaphor and the tension did little to shake the impression of spymasters of old.

From the quiet chuckle Jake let slip once more Ontari knew he thought the same.

"I look forward to the Mountain's end," Ontari decided to say instead of whatever else she had considered.

"To a future with less enemies."

It was early morning and Anya lay awake staring up at the ceiling. She traced the same crack in the concrete overhead as the seconds ticked by. Though she understood why all she needed to do in that moment was wait until she had instruction, she found herself almost wanting to do more. It was probably the simple fact that she had no control of her future in that moment.

Part of her didn't envy Lexa though. She didn't know what or how she'd handle being the one amongst the grounders, with this Heda who seemed more than human.

But still, she assumed there had to be a different state between where she was now simply waiting, and being the one surrounded by danger—

A quiet click sounded out in her room and it made her sit up, her body tensed and her eyes straining.

The click echoed again and she sighed, perhaps with relief, perhaps because she had become paranoid that it was something, anything else.

Anya reached for the small radio she kept hidden on her person.

"Lexa?" she said, voice quiet.

"He, Anya," Lexa's voice sounded tired, a little fatigued from whatever it was that must have happened to cause her to reach out.

"How are you? How are things?"

There was a pause and Anya could here Lexa taking in a deep breath before she heard another voice, this one had a timbre, more rasp to it than Lexa's but it was female all the same.

"This is Heda,"

Anya's eyes widened as the words sunk in. Truthfully it shouldn't be as shocking as she found it considering she couldn't actually see Heda— Clarke, Lexa had told her. But still, the fact she spoke to the woman who held her people's fate in her hand was enough for Anya to want to put her best foot forward given everything that had happened.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Heda," Anya tried not to let the word come out so awkwardly. But it did and she couldn't do anything about it except roll with it.

"You will help us," Heda's voice was firm and Anya had heard enough commands over the radio in her lifetime to know Heda would be staring at her intensely had this conversation been happening in person.

"What do you need?" Anya asked.

"When the fighting starts," Heda continued, her voice quick. "You must get to where my people are being held and free one of them."

Anya would consider the feasibility of what Heda said in another moment. But for now, "how do I know which one to free?"

"They will tell you," it was said simply.

But still, as Anya began to recall the nightblood she had seen she couldn't help but to think if the rest were in the same condition that they would be of little help in whatever fight was to come.

"To play devil's advocate," Anya said quietly. "What happens if I can't get this person free?"

"There are enough warriors to destroy the Mountain's source of power," Heda said simply. "There are enough warriors to drown the Mountain in our blood through the entrance in the reaper tunnels if we must sacrifice ourselves."

It was simple. But Anya could see why freeing this inside person would help. Less death could only be good. But still, Anya had questions. Ones she didn't know how to voice without crossing a line she didn't know existed.

"I have faith Clarke's plan will work," Lexa's voice added quietly.

Anya hummed a response and she decided in that moment that if Lexa thought the plan could be successful, then so did she. There wasn't much else she could do.

"When does the fighting start? Anya asked.

"Soon," Heda's voice answered. "It will happen early in the morning when the Mountain assumes my people will be unprepared.

Anya let the silence sit for just a moment as the reality of what was being discussed truly settled within her mind.

"So this is it?" she asked. "After all this time it's really happening?" for the first time since arriving in Mount Weather she found herself thinking it strange that she had been plotting a war, had been part of something she had never expected to be a part of in her entire life.

"Yeah," Lexa's voice answered her. "It feels strange to think it. To say it," she said. "But yeah, it's happening."

Anya nodded to herself as she stared at the radio in her hands. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't think there was much else she could say that would add to the conversation.

"I'll be ready."

It was perhaps a little past midday and Clarke sat in a chair, a table in front of her and her gaze focused on the vials of her blood that lay out across the tabletop. Perhaps she had thought that there was to be a climax of sorts, a building up of conflict until it exploded into all out war. But her plan, the one she had decided was best would only work if things were kept simple, quiet, as peaceful as possible for as long as possible.

She hadn't intended her night with Lexa to be anything more than a simple connection between them both, a recognition that things could be more if they both desired. But it had also been the thing that had made her think that the time had come. Perhaps because it reminded her of the moments of peace she wanted for all her people, perhaps because it told her she was putting things off for too long, trying to find ways to prolong the peace.

But they had truly never been at peace.

Her warriors had been killing reaper day after day. One or two, a roaming pack once in a while. Enough to keep the Mountain on edge, hopefully not enough to tip them off before she could enact what she had bet her entire existence upon.

Clarke took in a steadying breath as she sat back in the chair and tried to clear her mind and focus on what needed to happen. Things had gone the way she wanted them to, her warriors were ready, and if her subterfuge were to fail she knew her warriors would be enough to take the Mountain out. But it would be brutal. That much was true. But she hadn't become Heda, she hadn't united the clans and brought Azgeda under her control without being willing to sacrifice when she needed to.

But still, just because she could didn't mean she liked it.

Perhaps that meant she still cared. Perhaps that told her she still wanted what was best for her people.

She hoped it did.

And it was with that thought that Clarke realised she felt doubt, worry for the very first time—

No.

The longer she considered, the longer she let that emotion, that feeling linger, the more she realised it wasn't worry or doubt.

It was excitement, eagerness, a hatred that had fuelled her day after day for as long as she could remember.

She could feel her blood flowing through her veins, each raised scar that adorned her body had a presence, a weight, a reminder of an means to an end she had enacted so long ago that it had become one with every fibre of her body.

Clarke would let that fuel her, urge her forward when others couldn't.

And she would finish what the Mountain had dared to start if it was the last thing she ever di—

A knock on the door broke her hatred and she looked up to find a shadow peeking out from under the door.

"Enter," Clarke's voice was calm, the hatred dissipating as quickly as it came.

It took only a moment before Maya slipped inside, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the dimmed light.

"Heda," Maya said with a bowing of her head as she stood by the door.

Clarke took a moment to take in the woman in front of her before she gestured to the free chair on the other side of the table.

"Sit, Maya," Clarke's voice was steady.

Clarke waited until Maya seemed comfortable before she gestured to the vials of blood. Clarke hadn't missed Maya's eyes widening a fraction when she had first seen them and she respected the fact that Maya had respected her enough not to bring it up first.

"It's happening?" Maya asked quietly in answer.

"Yes," Clarke said as she watched Maya reach out for the first vial. "This should be enough to last you a month," and Clarke found herself truly wondering what Maya must have thought in that moment.

"Thank you," Maya said, and Clarke watched as Maya turned the first vial over in her before she looked up and met her gaze with such conviction that Clarke felt a tinge of pity for her.

"It is a gift," Clarke's answer wasn't the first time she had said it, but perhaps this time it was truly meant to be.

"Can I speak freely?" Maya asked.

"Yes. You may."

Maya took in a deep breath and Clarke watched as the young woman steadied herself, seemed to steel her emotions and reign them in.

"Part of me didn't think you'd trust me enough to use the other entrance," and Clarke watched Maya blink back something close to tears. "It's not that you trust me, it's not that I think you trust me," and she shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired of everything."

"We are all tired," Clarke answered.

Maya smiled at that, but it was a bittersweet smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

"I miss who I was before I knew everything," Maya said quietly. "I—" She looked away as a memory seemed to come to mind before she discarded it and looked back at her. "I missed being able to look at people I used to know and not see the faces of the nightbloods, the children and what we were doing to them," she shook her head. "I don't know how anyone could go along with that."

Clarke wanted to take pity on Maya as a person. But her accent, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself was too stark a reminder of what the Mountain had done to her people for her to let herself welcome that emotion completely. And yet Maya had helped. She had fled her people and had been the only one to do what she thought was right.

Or maybe she was simply the first one to convince Clarke's people before she was killed.

Perhaps Clarke would never know the answer to that thought.

"You are very brave Maya of the Mountain," Clarke said, and she meant it.

Maya looked up at her once more, her attention having drifted to the next vial briefly.

"You don't need to lie for me," Maya said.

"It is not a lie," and Clarke wondered if she would have liked Maya more she had been born amongst her people. If she had been one of her people.

"I was only doing what was right," Maya said with a single nod of her head.

Clarke smiled a little more warmly in answer for she thought it the simplest answer she could give.

"I would not call you friend," Clarke said eventually. "But Maya, perhaps I will call you an honest person and someone who has done more for both our people than most would realise."

Maya seemed to understand what Clarke meant though for she gave her own small smile and this time it touched her eyes and seemed lighter than it did moments ago.

"It is time I take my leave," Clarke said as she rose to her feet, her mind turning to the conversation she had had with Lexa and Anya on the radio earlier that morning and to what she intended to do in the fading light. "I hope I will see you again, Maya."

The sun had already begin to set and the sky had just barely begun to purple by the time Clarke had set out into the forest. Armours adorned her body, a sword, knives and even her bow. She had appearances to keep just as much as she needed protection lest she stumble across pauna or reaper or mountain man.

She perhaps purposefully had avoided Lexa, any kind of warning given to her only risking jeopardising what she had planned. But she had given a quiet few instructions to Gustus to alert the others to be ready in the next few days.

She didn't think there was any other way though. It needed to be a surprise for everyone for it to succeed. That much she knew.

And so Clarke came to a pause.

Behind her lay the rolling steep incline that was the Mountain that rose up into the sky, before her that very same clearing she had shown Lexa. Grand trees stretched out behind her, each one moss covered and mighty as they stood in place, their presence perhaps the sentinels to her final journey, a familiar farewell that she may never see again.

Clarke remained in the shadows though, she stayed knelt down behind a thick bush as she studied every little thing that spread out around her. It would do her no good for her to be killed before she made it to the entrance, it would do her no good if she were forced to turn back by reaper or pauna and it would do her no good to freeze, to be unable to carry out her mission.

And so she remained still, she remained quiet and she watched.

A bird or two drifted on the end overhead, she heard the scamper of small forest critter that ran back and forth not far from where she hid and she let the wind whistle around her as if she never even existed.

Clarke let herself memorise each and every sound and scent and sight around her. She let herself think of the people she had met over her years and she let herself remember faces of those she cared about. Perhaps there was a longing, maybe a regret that things had happened the way they had happened once upon a time. She even for the briefest of moments found herself thinking of Lexa, of someone who had fallen at her feet, who she could have just as easily slain as she had used at first as pawn, then as plaything only for her to become something a little more familiar.

Clarke smiled at those thoughts before she turned her attention to her hand, to the grey of her skin.

She held it up into the air, she let the fading sun shine against her skin and she marvelled at the way she could see the black of her blood in her veins, she marvelled at the way her skin seemed alive and void of life at times and then she stood.

Clarke's mind was empty, each and every one of those thoughts trapped into the recesses of her mind and she began to move into the open.

Each step she took was light, poised, careful, ready for action and reaction and she felt nothing but calm, nothing but serenity.

But all those things was fuelled by a desire, a want and a need to rip a part each and every Mountain Man she would soon cross paths with.

And so Clarke crossed the clearing and came to a stop before a small structure that jutted out in the middle of the clearing. The only thing of note was a single metal door, its handle rusted shut and a small faded and dirtied window she could barely see through. Above the door was what Maya had called a camera, something she knew the Mountain would use to see her approach and Clarke kept her gaze focused on it, the gaze she knew piercing, wicked, full of desire that she knew would put any person on the back foot.

She came to a stop just a few paces from the door, her gaze pinned on the camera as she stood, her feet planted firmly on the ground. And she waited.

She knew it wouldn't take long for the door to open. But she did wonder just how the Mountain Men would react. They wouldn't kill her. Not immediately. She knew they needed her, needed a healthy subject. One that they would treat with such caution lest they lose their newly found prize.

And then Clarke heard it.

There was a quiet click, a gentle scraping and then the door slowly began to open.

Clarke's gaze snapped from the camera and down to the door.

Two men stood in front of her. Both held weapons in their hands. The first man, older, greying beard upon his face with eyes wide and another, stockier man, someone Clarke recognised as threat more than the first.

The first man's mouth opened a fraction in something between shock and surprise and uncertainty but the second man maintained eye contact with her, and Clarke could see a warrior in his gaze. She could see the things he had done to her people, she could see the things he would continue to do to her people. But most of all she could see the way he looked at her, the way he thought of her and the way he would treat her.

"Holy shit, Emerson," the first man said. "It's actually her."

And so Clarke thought with all her might that if this Emerson had family that she would kill them in front of him before slicing his throat open as slowly as she could.

And with that singular thought Clarke uttered a phrase that would seal everyone's fate forever.

"I surrender."