Roan stood up as soon as Ontari was led away. "Come, Wanheda, we are to witness her tattooing."
'But not the transfer of the commander spirit,' Clarke thought as she followed Roan. Their guards stayed very close, and Clarke wondered what worried them so much. Two more guards joined them as they entered the tower, containing Clarke and Roan behind their bodies.
Ontari was in the bath when they arrived. As they walked, Roan explained that they could not speak with Ontari yet, merely watch this part of her investment. He would tell her about the rest of it over supper.
Clarke remained beside Roan and watched Ontari be bathed by two attendants. Ontari looked unsettled about their attention, but regained control when Roan nodded at her. Clarke bit her lip so she wouldn't say something about the many horizontal scars on Ontari's back.
They watched Ontari get out of the bath. The attendants dried her and she laid on a table covered with a fur. The tattoo artist sketched the design onto her bare back, but before he could begin, Roan stood.
"She will accept her marks only from Azgeda," he said firmly, and Clarke realized that he did not trust Titus. Titus glared at Clarke and Roan when one of the warriors with them went to the table. He removed his tools and ink from his cloak and spread them beside Ontari.
It took hours to complete the tattoo. It was similar to Lexa's, but there were more marks representing the participants she defeated than Lexa had. Sometime during it, Ontari fell asleep and woke again. Roan smiled when she woke but didn't flinch.
When that tattoo was finished, the artist carefully wiped away blood and ink before gently rubbing a healing salve along her spine. He then tattooed the sacred symbol on the back of Ontari's neck, cleaned it and rubbed in salve. He returned to Roan's side and they waited. Titus deliberately kept his back to them while he made the incision and placed the chip. His sutures were slow and clumsy, but he put salve on them and bandaged it before putting her hair over her neck.
"You may rise," Titus told her, and Ontari got off the table and stood. The attendants appeared again and dressed her. Clarke nearly chewed through her lip so she wouldn't cry when they put Lexa's pauldron on her shoulder and Lexa's red lined cloak on her back.
Roan stood when that was complete and knelt before her. While on his knee, he removed the scabbard from his shoulder and offered it and the sword in it to Ontari. She accepted both, and looked at Clarke.
It took her a few seconds to realize what Ontari wanted, and when she did, Clarke stood as tall as she could while she approached. She heard Lexa while she took those steps: Don't be afraid. The next commander will protect you. She went to her knee beside Roan, giving her the same honor she gave to Lexa. Wanheda offered fealty to Heda, but Clarke remained uncertain about her role in all of this.
"Rise," Ontari said softly, and she and Roan got to their feet. Ontari gave them both a small, sneaky smile. Clarke was certain that Ontari's eyes were brown, but they were now the same green as Lexa's. "Tomorrow is my Ascension Day. You are my most honored guests."
Roan grinned at her. "It is our pleasure, Heda." He bowed and took Clarke's arm to remove her from Ontari's path to the door. Clarke watched her leave, frowning. Had she looked at Titus, she would have seen the same look on his face.
100 – 100 – 100
Murphy woke with a thumping headache. He raised his head and looked around. A very large grounder sat in a chair near the door, and he was glad that at least this time, his prison was comfortable.
When the grounder saw him, move, he got up. Murphy frowned while he watched him approach. The man stopped at his bedside, poured liquid from a pitcher into a mug and offered it to Murphy.
Murphy pushed up on his elbow and took the mug. The water was cool and fresh and it eased the burn of his throat. "Thanks."
The man nodded and put the mug back on the stand. He returned to his chair, and Murphy sat up, groaning. He was sore and stiff. He put his hands through his hair and grazed the bandage on his cheek. He felt the ones on his back when he stretched. "Is there anything to eat?"
"Sha, but you must dress." The man pointed toward the dresser.
Murphy got out of bed and went through the drawers. He found his cargo pants and put them on, and picked up the first shirt that came out of the drawer. "Seen my boots?"
The man pointed to the floor beside the dresser. Murphy was pleasantly surprised to find that his boots were clean, and a clean pair of socks was in the top of one of them. Once he had his boots on, he stood up and stretched again. He approached his guard. "I'm Murphy."
"Sha," the guard agreed.
"You are?"
"Your guard." He opened the door. Murphy went through and stepped aside so the guard could lead him to the food.
Murphy looked around while they walked. These were swank settings by grounder standards. He wondered who Clarke made the deal with to get them released. Their conversation wasn't loud enough to be clearly heard except for Clarke's outburst about Lexa and the guy's answer. He knew it was stupid to insult the person who could free him, but he couldn't help himself.
The guard pointed at the table and Murphy sat. There were pitchers and mugs in the center, and he pulled the first one of each he could reach. The pitcher held water, but that was fine because he felt dehydrated. He drank two mugs of water and looked around while he waited for whatever would happen next, which turned out to be the delivery of a bowl of stew and a plate of bread and cheese. His stomach rumbled. He'd been hungry when the guards arrested him, and since had been given only enough to survive.
He ate slowly, savoring the food, and ate until everything was gone. He stretched again, and got up to walk around a little. Before he got anywhere, the healer intercepted him. He packed Murphy off to bathe again, and after, checked all of his wounds, and applied salve and bandages where needed before allowing him to dress.
He went back to the room where he ate just as Clarke and that other guy came through the door. Clarke stopped when she saw him, then walked up to him.
Her voice was quiet, her tone urgent when she spoke to him. "Murphy, do not be an asshole. There's a lot going on and I'm not sure how safe we are. I know it's hard for you, but be quiet."
He rolled his eyes at her, but nodded, and Clarke backed away. He got a good look at the guy for the first time. He was obviously somebody important. He was clean and well dressed, and Murphy suspected he was, as most grounder warriors, a pile of muscles under the layers of clothing.
"Roan, this is Murphy kom Skaikru. Murphy, this is Roan, king of Azgeda."
"An actual king?"
"Murphy, shut the hell up."
Roan looked amused. "Yes, Murphy kom Skaikru, an actual king. I rule the Ice Nation. Perhaps you've heard of us."
"Nothing good," Murphy answered.
Clarke groaned. "Do you want to go back to jail or worse?"
"Let him speak, Wanheda. He is amusing."
"He's an asshole, Roan. He drove a little girl to her death, and shot Raven."
"C'mon, Princess, you slit that guy's throat and killed Finn."
"Murphy, for the love of all that's holy, shut up."
Roan laughed. He had never seen Clarke so rattled.
"Well, then, I'll let you two sit here and talk shit." She started to leave the room.
"Clarke, Ontari wishes to see you."
"This day just keeps getting better," she grumbled, and turned to face Roan. "When did she tell you that?"
"Before the Conclave began. Go," he urged. "I'm going to get to know your friend better."
Clarke heard the unfriendly undertone in his voice and hoped Murphy did, too. She left them.