A/N: Happy New Year! Enjoy chapter 6! (Still Lexa's POV)
Chapter 6 : To Polis
Lexa had expected Clarke to be closed up the next day, but she was proven wrong. So close to the capitol, the roads were well maintained and large. The horses could trot side by side, and Clarke was on her right. Gustus was the one who had made up the placement on their first day of travel, with his security-oriented mind. Putting people on her right meant that they were on her sword-arm side, and usually gave her the advantage if her companion decided to suddenly attack her as he or she would have to twist in their saddle to strike her.
Needless to say, Gustus had been utterly disappointed to discover that Clarke was left-handed.
The young woman used one of the moment when the horses were walking to address her.
''The Ark is dying.''
Lexa's eyes snapped up to meet Clarke's blue ones. She had not expected that.
Clarke broke away from her gaze, concentrating on the road ahead, before she continued.
''Remember what I told you about oxygen being like the tea leaves?''
She nodded, but the blonde was talking before she even finished the short motion.
''Well, we have exhausted all our supplies of leaves, and our last ones have already been used many times. My people are slowly suffocating up there.''
She paused. ''Before my father's death, I worked with my mother in the infirmary. Children are going blind, people are coughing and yawning all the time, students and apprentices can't concentrate and get hurt as a result. Even with our ability, there is nothing we can do. We can't replace what is just not there.'' She explained.
She rolled her shoulders. ''When the old world burned, our scientists calculated that it would take about two hundred years before it was safe to return to the ground. The Ark was supposed to last until then. But something went wrong a couple years ago, and we couldn't fix it. That's why we are choking.''
She glared at the sky, in the general direction of the Ark. ''So, our leaders decided to send some of us down, to see if it was possible to return to the ground earlier than planned. They fucked up the planning, though. The landing was harsher than it should have been, and as a result, we lost all means of contacting them and tell them that the air was not toxic.''
Lexa had kept her eyes on the blonde, so when Clarke turned her head back towards her, their gazes locked instantly.
''That is what those hundreds of shooting stars were. The leaders are culling the population to save air for the rest. Because we failed to reach them and confirm that there is breathable air here.'' She concluded, her eyes burning with guilt and sorrow.
Lexa was careful to remain impassive, but she felt her stomach churning in horror and bile rose in her throat. As a leader, she understood the decision to kill the few to save the many. But it did not make the act less terrible, and she felt sorry for Clarke who had witnessed the deaths while knowing that they weren't, in fact, necessary. Because those people could have breathed on the ground.
And Lexa almost hated Clarke for telling her that her people were suffering, that children were hurting. Because it made her feel sympathy for them, when as Commander she should worry about potential invaders.
''How long?'' She asked the healer.
She was answered with a shrug. ''Three or four month? Perhaps even six? It depends on how many people they killed. And on how many they will kill again when they once more fail to fix the problem.''
She nodded, filing away the information. She would have to order the sky to be watched at night. If no more shooting stars appeared in the coming months, it would probably mean that the Sky people were coming down anyway.
''And what about your mother?'' She asked in a softer tone.
She didn't really expect Clarke to answer. She had refused to talk about her father.
The blonde hesitated. Lexa could see the need to talk, to confide in someone in this difficult time warring with the wish to keep her cards close to her chest.
''My father had left her something to do if it came to culling, but it was dangerous. I don't know if she decided to go through with it. But if she did…'' She did not finish the sentence.
There was no need to. Whatever her father had planned, it probably was some sort of last resort. Something that could cost a lot if it failed, but save a lot if it worked.
The kind of solution you only used if you had absolutely nothing else left. Had her mother failed and killed herself because of the guilt? Or would this thing cost her life either way?
She knew the blonde would not tell her more on the subject, so she decided to exploit her talkative mood on other unanswered questions.
''Why were you and your companions chosen for this mission?'' She asked.
Anya's reports had described untrained children. It seemed a strange choice for such an important mission. Though, Clarke was smart and resourceful – even without her unique abilities. Perhaps her general had overlooked some qualities. Or underestimated them.
She suddenly worried about her mentor. What if the attack went wrong?
''I do not want to answer that.'' Clarke replied.
Somehow, that did not reassure Lexa. The blonde looked a mix of uncomfortable and wary at the question. It gave her little to base on assumptions. Moreover, she now knew that Clarke and her former companions were not the only invaders she had to deal with. How many were left in the sky if they decided to spare one hundred children, then kill hundreds to preserve the rest? The people of her Coalition often had several children, because they knew all would not reach adulthood. Part of the reason the clans had agreed to her Kongeda was the dwindling population because of the wars. Twenty years ago, one clan – the Golden Shore – had been absorbed by the Glowing Forest Clan because its population had been too low to defend their territories, and they had begged the protection of their neighbour.
She decided to try something else entirely.
''Do all of your people read and write?'' She asked with genuine curiosity.
The other woman appeared sincerely confused by her question. ''Of course. That's basically the first thing we are taught.'' She tilted her head. ''I take it yours don't?''
She shook her head. ''Trigedasleng is never written. Only warriors and officiates speak Gonasleng. Fewer learn how to write and read it.''
The blonde studied her, thinking. ''I have been wondering for a while actually. English – I mean Gonasleng – was the main language of these lands in the old world. Your ancestors spoke it. How did it evolve in Trigedasleng while Gonasleng somehow remained as well?''
Lexa recited the story from her teachings.
''Just after the world burned, all the clans spoke the old language. Secrets were not safe when a messenger was captured. One clan – there is a debate on which one – started to use a code language. Soon, all the others imitated it, and created their own code. All the warriors and the messengers had to be fluent with their code. They spoke it whenever they could, so their children learned it from them. Soon, all the clans favored these new languages over the old one. Gonasleng became the language of negotiations, because it was the only one all the clans had in common.''
''Now, ambassadors and generals speak several languages, and warriors all learn the old language. Especially since the Mountain became an enemy. They only speak Gonasleng, and we need our scouts to be able to understand the conversations they may overhear.'' She concluded.
Clarke nodded thoughtfully. ''It makes sense, I guess. On the Ark, it was the opposite. At first, it was twelve separate stations, and there were ten different languages. When they united to form the Ark after the world burned, people needed to work together. So English became the main language. The other ones are still taught amongst some families, but it is mostly out of pride and respect for the old nations. It doesn't really serve any purpose beyond that.''
They fell silent for a while, and Lexa stole glances at the blonde. She seemed to be mulling things over in her head. What was she trying to figure out?
She spoke up again. ''This Mountain… Is it Mount Weather? I recall you asking me if that was where I was from the first night. Is it really inhabited?'' She wondered aloud.
Lexa tightened her grip on the reins and bit back an angry retort. Clarke knew nothing of her people's suffering because of the Mountain. But even knowing this, it was hard to contain herself at the casual, almost dismissive way she talked about it.
''The Maunon have been taking and killing my people for over fifty summers.'' She snarled. ''Those that come out of the Mountain alive are soulless monsters that kill their own yongons.''
She was satisfied – and perhaps a little guilty – to see the blonde flinch at her tone.
But since she had been the one to bring it up…
''Anya's scouts mentioned that you and your former companions – at least a small group of them – tried to go to the Mountain shortly after your arrival from the sky.'' She said as casually as she could, hoping Clarke was still in a talkative mood.
She wondered why the woman was suddenly talking so much of her past. Sure, there were still subjects she refused to expand on, but it was quite a contrast from the first couple of days. Was it because they were close to Polis, and she preferred to tell things herself rather than have Lexa interrogate her people? Or was she starting to trust her?
Clarke replied with a derisive snort. ''I told you our leaders in the sky fucked up with the preparations. They gave us no supplies, just told us that Mount Weather was an old, empty bunker that should contain enough rations for us until they could follow. And then they dropped us on the wrong mountain.'' She grimaced and added. ''Though if they are as friendly as you say, we might have actually been lucky to land away from it.''
Lexa did not reply. She had already enough to worry about with Clarke and Anya's prisoners. She would reflect upon the Mountain and its potential links with the leaders in the sky later.
She enjoyed the ride for a while, comforted by the familiar scenes as they grew closer to her city. She was born Trikru, and spent some years in their lands as Anya's seken, but most of her childhood had been in Polis, with the other Nightbloods. The forest was thinning, and soon they would reach the plains and orchards that surrounded the capitol.
Polis belonged to no clan. It was the city of Heda, and a neutral territory. The first Heda had conquered the lands around it, and then offered shelters to those that fled the violence of the warring clans. Once the clans established their main frontiers, some had returned to their families.
Many had stayed, and the city had grown. Heda Becca died, and one of her apprentices succeeded her. He followed her legacy, offering shelter and then a neutral ground for Clan Chiefs to discuss and negotiate.
Slowly, the legend of Heda grew, until the position became the Sword that protected the people, the Voice that judged the Clans when their conflicts needed an outside arbitrary. It was an honor, for any family, to birth a Natblida and send him or her to Polis. Heda was the one chosen by the Spirit for all the people.
Which was why Clarke, the Healing Nymph, was so important. She was, Lexa believed, a test from the Spirit. Or perhaps the punishment that would ensure the Flame passed on to the next Commander soon.
Lexa had achieved what all the previous Commanders had dreamed to do: ending the wars by uniting the clans in a Coalition. The shadow of the Mountain had been the only threat that remained, and she had hoped that her or her heir would eventually manage to beat it as well. To offer true peace to all her people.
Then the sky had fallen.
What was she supposed to do with a people that invaded her, and destroyed one of her village without any real provocation? Why had the Spirit chosen to present her with a person who could ease many of her people sufferings, but tie her to hostile companions?
Was it a sign that she should welcome the Skaikru like she had welcomed Azgeda? Or did she have to personally earn Clarke's loyalty while hurting her by destroying another threat to her Coalition? How was she supposed to achieve that?
Tired of torturing herself with such thoughts, Lexa decided to ask more innocent questions.
''How old are you?''
The blonde thought for some time before replying and Lexa contained a huff of exasperation. Was this woman unable to reply directly?
''I think I turned eighteen a few days ago. I didn't really keep track of time since I landed, but I was a month away from my birthday when we were sent down. What about you?''
Well, it had certainly been a while since people casually asked her personal questions, but she replied anyway.
''I am twenty-one.''
''And how long have you been Commander? And how old in this Coalition?'' The blonde continued eagerly.
It was so strange, being asked what was common knowledge.
''I was fifteen when the Spirit of the previous Commander chose me. This will be the Coalition's third winter.'' She stated simply.
When Clarke failed to comment, she turned towards her. The blonde was gaping at her.
''Klark?'' She asked, worried. Had something happened?
The blonde closed her mouth and stared at her as she exclaimed.
''Fifteen? That's… And what is this about a Spirit? Reincarnation? How do they know they've got the right one anyway?'' She fired her questions without giving Lexa the time to answer.
She waited as the blonde continued in a similar manner for a good minute. Once she was done, Lexa looked at her and replied slowly to the main points.
''The Commander can only chose a Nightblood – a person with black blood. So, it is a tradition that Nightbloods are sent to Polis as soon as they are discovered. They are trained and educated by the Commander and the Flame keeper. When the Commander dies, the Flame keeper begins the Conclave. The last Nightblood receives the Flame – the Spirit of all the previous Commanders.''
''Okay…'' The blonde said slowly.
The clear disbelief in her tone and in her eyes irritated Lexa.
''How are your leaders chosen? From what little you told me, they are not the most capable.'' She observed.
''They are elected. Politicians who want to become Chancellor have to convince people that they are the best choice. They keep the position for four years, and then there is a new election – either they win and go on for four more years, or they lose and someone else takes the job.'' The young woman explained.
''It sounds like a very unstable system. How can you achieve anything in four years?'' Lexa commented.
''Isn't that the time it took you to create the Coalition?'' Clarke pointed out with a furrowed brow.
''Yes, but the previous Commanders had worked towards it before. I am merely the incarnation in which we saw it happen. My spirit will have many more battles to wage until the Coalition is strongly established, and against the threat of the Mountain. The Spirit offers us continuity. If Heda's purpose changed every four years, the clans would still be at war.'' She argued.
The blonde now seemed curious. ''So, you remember being the other Commanders?'' She wondered.
Lexa shook her head minutely. ''No. But they guide me through visions, and the one just before me taught me as I grew up, explaining all of his plans and hopes for our people. It is my duty to carry on until my body dies.''
''What about the Clans Chiefs? How are they chosen?''
''Some keep the title in the same family, like the Ice Nation. Others choose a child that they groom into an heir. Two clans organize tournaments to chose their new leaders. And in many clans, you may challenge the ruler if you believe him unfit.''
''But not Heda?''
''Heda is chosen by the Spirit. I may be challenged, but only the Spirit may decide. If he wants me to pass on to the next Commander, I will die. If not, I will survive. The people know this. One who challenges me and fails will fall into disgrace, for he unjustly doubted the Spirit.''
Lexa could see that Clarke was trying to connect all this with what she had learned before.
''So, when they call me the Healing Nymph sent to save your life, they think I am the Spirit's way of keeping you alive? And that is why your enemies may hesitate now that I am here?'' She wondered.
Lexa nodded in confirmation.
Clarke bristled and clenched her fists. ''I am my own person. Not some sort of prophet or whatever.''
''Yet you were clearly chosen. What were the chances of someone as unique as you to be born in the sky, sent down to the ground, and then pass through this particular village at the moment of the attack?'' She pointed out smugly.
''But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'' Clarke said in a strange tone, as if quoting an old teaching, her face still a mask of disgust at the very idea.
''What was that?'' Lexa asked, surprised by the unusual wording.
''A quote from an old book. I read it several times and memorized some parts. I can't say that I believe in spirits or gods of any kind, but I agree that sometimes fate seems to mock us.'' She sighed.
''What is it about? The book? Who was this chosen person?''
Clarke smiled. ''It is a fascinating story, in an imaginary world. This 'chosen' has an important mission, and does not feel up to the task but he knows he has to keep going or all will be lost. He is not a warrior, or especially smart. He is just an honest person determined to do the right thing and see it through.''
Fascinated, Lexa tried to picture this person, who somehow ended up looking a lot like Aden in her mind – which was unfair as the boy was both strong and smart. Shaking away the image, she asked.
''And? Does he succeed?''
Clarke smirked, and Lexa got the feeling that the blonde had wanted her to ask that particular question. ''No.''
She scowled, disappointed. ''So, my words remind you of a story of failure?''
The blonde shook her head fondly, still smiling. ''I never said the mission was not completed. He went very far, but no longer had the strength to finish his task. But he went far enough that one single lucky moment was enough to save them all. Failure is not what the story is about, in the end.''
''What is it about, then?'' Lexa asked.
''Fate mocking us all. Because after all that he endured, it was fate that made the last decision. It saved him, but it could have rendered all the sacrifices meaningless just as easily.'' Clarke pondered.
She frowned. She sensed that the full story must be much more complex, for life was rarely simple, but she was still perturbed by the conclusion.
''I am not sure I like this story.'' She eventually said. ''The Spirit protects the people. It would never undo all the efforts made to better their conditions, just to mock us.''
The blonde gave her a look, pointedly lingering on her sword and pauldron, and grinned. ''A story of epic battles and sacrifices? No, I am sure you wouldn't like it.'' She commented in a teasing voice. ''You can read, right? There has to be some copies of the book that survived the apocalypse. It was one of the most famous stories.'' She mused aloud.
''There are books in Polis. I was actually thinking of asking for your help in sorting them. It is usually the duty of the Flame keeper, but Titus has no apprentice, and spends most of his time with me or the Nightbloods. He cannot waste time deciphering old stories.'' Lexa informed her companion.
Clarke chuckled. ''I have another quote for you, from the same book. But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know. It basically means that you should not underestimate those old books. Those from before spent centuries studying the world, waging wars or developing their economy. Why let all this go to waste? Why spend years making the same mistakes they did, instead of learning from them?'' She reasoned. ''Reading was basically the only thing I was allowed to do in solitary.'' She added in a quieter voice, and visibly stopped herself from continuing the thought.
Lexa filed away the comment but did not call her on it, not wanting to cause the young woman to close up before she could secure her agreement. She allowed herself a small smile. ''That is why Hedas never threw away the books. But it takes a long time to sort them all. I take it you accept to investigate the Tower's library? You will of course have to report to me of what you find.''
Clarke hummed. ''How about another deal? I sort your books, but you have to read the ones I give you.'' She offered.
''I do not have the time for such endeavors.'' Lexa immediately objected.
She had no wish to embarrass herself in front of the healer with her slow reading and incomprehension of nearly half the words. There was a reason Hedas and Fleimkeepas were going through the books so slowly.
''I won't give you too many of them, and you can read them at your own pace.'' Clarke bargained with a widening smile. ''And I promise I will give you useful ones, not only stories.''
Still, it was one way of convincing her Nymph to remain in Polis, and close to her. As long as everything went fine with Anya.
''Very well, I will agree to your terms.'' She declared formally.
It was fortunate that they finished their conversation now, as they finally exited the forest and Clarke's jaw dropped at the sight. Lexa barked an order to stop and pulled on her reins to let the young woman take in the scene.
Polis was in the middle of a great plain, with some orchards to the east of the city. The Tower culminated the center of the capitol, the great flame alight at the top. Lexa watched with pride as Clarke's eyes slowly followed the streets and buildings of her home. She knew that most of the buildings were ruins from the old world, but her people had had more than enough time to appropriate them. Big and colorful pieces of clothes had replaced damaged doors or windows, walls of concrete gave way to ones of strong wood, furs were laid on the roofs to dry and soften, street walls were covered with children's drawings that overlapped one another more and more as the years passed.
She liked this sight of a thriving, happy city. Oh, of course sometimes life was harsh. Winters could be long, children lost their parents or a father mourned his deceased son. Life was life. But on the whole, this city was her home, and it looked just like that. A home.
She broke the silence, impatient to get back to her Tower now that it was in sight. It would still take a couple of candle-marks to reach the gates.
''We should go. Anya is probably here with your people already.''
The reminder of what needed to be discussed in the capitol proved effective. Clarke closed her mouth and urged her horse forward with a squeeze of her legs. They resumed their ride to the city, but Lexa noticed that the blonde was once again rotating in her saddle, attempting to take in everything at once. She only stopped when her horse shook its head and stumbled, nearly unsitting her.
When they passed the gates, Lexa gestured for a runner to go ahead and warn Titus of her arrival. The distance to the Tower was not far, but she knew the crowd would slow them down. She also asked the messenger to come back with news of Anya and the prisoners. Hopefully, she would be able to think of the best way to approach the situation before Clarke saw her people, giving her the upper hand in the coming negotiation.