A/N: Beware, graphic depictions of violence in this chapter.

Chapter 11: Execution

Lexa guided Clarke out of the library. She was sincerely impressed by the amount of books the healer had sorted in two half days. It was more than the entire work of generations of Hedas and Fleimkeepas. Lexa herself had never put one book on those shelves – she had been too busy forming and then holding together the Coalition.

It was strange, observing Clarke's reactions to everything Lexa herself had known since childhood. The blonde had a completely different way of considering things, and not simply because of her healing. The fact that she had grown up in a very different culture was glaringly obvious.

From what she had gathered, the Sky people did not wage war. Their justice was even harsher than the Clans', with crimes being systematically punished by death. Yet, they were encouraged to read stories that openly disagreed with such practices. She also had a feeling that their mode of execution was very different, and worried how difficult witnessing tonight's death of the ambassador would be for the blonde.

Thinking of the ambassador reminded her of the meeting from this morning. At first, she had been slightly surprised by how well Clarke seemed to follow everything. She was aware that the young woman knew next to nothing about the different clans – she had actually resisted attending the meeting in the first place because of that – but from her glances, Lexa suspected that her mind had been sharp enough to pick up on some of the non official alliances between the clans. Clearly, the Ark was not spared from conspiracy and petty politicians in the same way it was exempt from wars.

But then she had recklessly answered Azgeda's provocation. Sure, it had worked out for the best in the end, but Lexa had been secretly panicked and furious. Only her years of training and experience had allowed her to keep her impassive mask and deal with the matter in a calm way as well as seize the opportunity to get rid of Azgeda's ambassador.

She had suspected the man to be a trained assassin since the day he set foot in Polis, but had not managed to find any proof so far. She still did not know what exactly his mission had been. Clarke could not have been his target – not for killing at least, but his provocation was proof enough that Nia had heard tales of the Nymph and was interested. So who was? Herself? Her Natblidas?

She was growing more and more worried about her novitiates. Poisoned food had been found in the meal intended for them not long ago. And the last time she had left the city's lands with Strina they had been attacked by bandits.

The both of them had easily dispatched them, and she knew Strina had been proud of her first real battle – if a little shaken – but Lexa had immediately canceled any further trips with her or Aden. Bandits never came so close to her capitol. They knew it was a death wish to do so.

Unless someone had offered them enough to make it worth the risk.

She wasn't sure why Nia was so determined to destroy her novitiates. The Ice Nation had benefited a lot from the Coalition, and until recently Nia's objective had seemed to be to take command of it rather than destroy it. But for some reason, she was now multiplying her attempts against Lexa and the children.

Was time pressing in the north for some reason?

Worse, Aden and Strina were the only ones eligible for the Conclave, and they were still too young in Lexa's opinion. Most often, it was one of the two or three eldest Natblidas that became Commander. Lexa herself had been somewhat of an oddity in that respect, winning her Conclave despite being only fifteen and therefore still lacking in pure muscle strength against older opponents. She knew Luna would have won if she had not forfeited. The Commander before her had not been in place for long – less than eight years. So Luna and her twin brother, at eighteen, had been the oldests. Lexa had not been the youngest, but three years could mean a lot at such an age.

Unfortunately, two Conclave so close in time meant that there were fewer Natblidas. And she had not yet been in power long enough for them to grow old enough. No matter their qualities, it would be a near impossible task for an eleven or ten year-old child to hold together the Coalition when most chief clans would be trying to manipulate them.

Aden was an impressive fighter with most weapons, and she had little doubts he would win the Conclave if it were to occur now. He was also very clever in his propositions on negociations when she discussed it with him and Strina. However, he tended to be too forgiving and trustful. It was not a bad thing, but he had not yet learned to balance this fact with a more realistic understanding of human nature.

Strina, on the other hand, was more sarcastic – especially since the encounter with the bandits. She seemed to have a natural knack for guessing the intentions of the person she was talking with, though her young age prevented her from understanding some of those motives. She was a good fighter, though she despised the staff and spear training. She often used her smaller frame as a way to slip under her opponent's guard and favoured short-range weapons.

Really, it was a shame that there could only be one Heda. Together, the two children would have a very fair and reliable judgement, their respective qualities and limitations balancing almost perfectly.

She hoped they would have enough years training together to teach one another, and that when they faced the Spirit in the Conclave, they would both have their chance.

Clarke interrupted her thoughts.

''Er… I know this might not be the best time to ask you this, but I checked on Raven's progress this morning, and she pointed out an issue we hadn't really thought of at first.'' She exposed hesitantly, rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand.

Lexa paused and looked at the blonde, waiting for her to elaborate.

She did. ''Those old machines need power – electricity. Before it was easy, but now we have to produce it. Raven thought of two possible solutions.''

She paused again, and Lexa nodded to indicate that she could continue.

''The first, and most reliable one, is to retrieve the solar panels from our dropship. It is what we used in space to power the Ark. But, obviously that means a trip back to the dropship for Raven, and then some more time to install everything here.''

''The other solution would be faster.'' Lexa guessed. She couldn't blame Clarke for being eager to finally contact the Ark and save her people from asphyxia.

The blonde acquiesced. ''It is. But it will require… someone to power everything.'' She hesitated again.

Lexa's eyes narrowed. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going. ''Would it harm the person powering it? Or are you asking me to abandon some of your duties to power it yourself?''

She saw blue eyes widen. ''What? No! Not me.'' She shook her head and explained. ''I wouldn't have the stamina – you know how weak my muscles still are. No, basically the trick is to convert movement into electricity. Raven wants to use an old bike she saw in the basements. She will need someone to pedal to power the radio.''

That sounded simple enough. ''Oh. Why were you so hesitant to ask for that?'' She wondered.

''Honestly? I feared the idea of one of your people slaving away would offend you.'' She replied with a grimace.

''My people will do their duty. How long until you can talk to your people in the sky, then?''

Clarke smiled widely. ''Hopefully, a day or two. Depends on whether I can convince Raven to sleep or not.''

The blonde grew serious again. ''Tonight… Is there anything I am supposed to do, or say? Or do I just have to stand there and watch?''

The disgust was clear in her voice, and Lexa supressed a sigh. Clarke's father had been executed, so it was not so surprising that the blonde would be reluctant to attend. ''I will be the one talking. Since this will be your first official appearance as my healer before the people of Polis, you should wear a more ceremonial attire. And add some braids your hair.'' She recommended.

She paused. Braiding was intimate, as it required someone standing or sitting very close to your head and neck. It was usually done by family or lovers. Costia used to braid Lexa's hair. Since her death, she had relied on Gustus or her Natblidas.

And now she longed to run her fingers through the blonde hair of her Nymph, to see if it was as soft as it looked. She cleared her throat.

''I can help you, if you wish.'' She offered, her heart beating and her mind screaming at her that this was a mistake – love was weakness, no matter what the blonde had said. Her offer, she reasoned, was mostly rational. She doubted Clarke's culture cared much for braids, or the blonde or even Raven would have sported some, given the ascendance of the first, and the qualifications of the latter.

Clarke flushed as she replied. ''Thank you, but I have to talk to Raven. I am sure she will help me, so I won't waste time and end up late to the… ceremony.''

Dozens of arguments flashed through Lexa's mind to try and convince Clarke that she would be a better choice. Raven would not know what kind of braids to do, how to arrange her hair. She had only met the other brunette two days ago. The mechanic should be working on the radio, not playing with Clarke's hair. Raven had no right to be the one braiding her hair.

But then, neither did she.

''Of course.'' She said simply, hiding the disappointment in her voice. She knew Clarke had not meant to slight her – she was simply hoping to kill two birds with one arrow by using the time to prepare herself to speak with the mechanic.

With a nod, the blonde walked away.

Lexa took a deep breath and blinked. Love is weakness. She repeated. Costia died because you loved her.

But Clarke can't die. She would be safe. A treacherous voice whispered in her mind.

She shook her head furiously. Clarke could die. She had admitted it herself. And even if she couldn't die, she still felt pain. Lexa had seen the wince and heard the moans of pain when she hurt herself – which she seemed to do a lot. She wondered if the Spirit had granted her this power because she was simply too stubborn and reckless to survive without it.

Really, the blonde had been alone in her room for less than two evenings, and she had managed to break her arm and hurt her ribs. All because she decided to go exploring in the dark without a damn candle.

Perhaps she should assign her more guards, with instructions not to allow Clarke anywhere near a sharp object. Or a steep fall.

Sighing, she reached her rooms and prepared herself for the execution. Azgeda's lack of ambassador would stall all further trade decisions – though the ambassadors would keep talking uselessly. She hoped Nia would be more reasonable this time, and actually send someone with more training in politics than in poisons. But she knew this was wishful thinking.

She watched out the window. The pole had been set up, and two warriors were applying the resin. The top would be lit once the last cut had been delivered. The pole would slowly burn, providing lighting for the audience, and pain for the culprit. His head would be cut off before it became completely unrecognizable.

She knew the lack of protest in the throne room when she condemned him did not mean that there was no resentment from some clans. Though she was unsure what Delfi's position was right now, since Azgeda had been willing to let him die until Clarke saved him. Perhaps this would help her. But tonight, she knew she would be a target if there were any other Azgeda assassins in Polis.

Which was one of the reasons she needed Clarke to attend with her. And the Natblidas would remain on their floor, heavily protected, except Aden and Strina who would attend as well. She hadn't wanted them to, but Titus had insisted. Either one might be in her place soon, and this was part of the duties they would have to oversee.

Some time later, a warrior knocked on her door, informing her that everything was ready, and that the Healing Nymph was already on her way to the square. Time to go.

She enumerated the charges as the ambassador was being tied to the pole. She knew rumors had already spread throughout the city, and she needed to ensure opponents of her Coalition would not use this event to their advantage. Then she proceeded to describe the punishment that would be bestowed tonight – the cuts, then the burning and beheading.

She paused before making her last announcement. She had thought it through, and knew Clarke would dislike her twisting her words somewhat, but she truly believed it was the best way to prevent the displeasure of her people. She would deal with the blonde's pride later.

''The Healing Nymph made a vow to the Spirit when he granted her with healing powers. She swore that she would never harm or kill anyone, unless it was the only way to save or defend. As a consequence of that oath, she will not take her turn with the dagger tonight.''

The crowd became silent. Lexa knew they were surprised. Jus drein jus daun was their tradition. The Spirit's way of ensuring culprits were punished. Hearing that the Spirit had asked someone so deeply blessed to go against this fundamental rule was… unexpected. It was a good thing Clarke had displayed her abilities in the capitol the previous day – it would quell the doubts.

Soon, the execution began. Lexa was the first to make the cut, followed by Aden and Strina, and then the Delphi's ambassador. She quietly instructed her novitiates to cut deeper than usual, as she had. She had seen Clarke's fists clench and her clamped jaw as she described the mode of execution. The braids that pulled back her hair made her expressions all the more visible.

The young woman must not crack before the end. People would lose their faith. So Lexa had to ensure the process would end as soon as possible.

The man survived until he received all his cuts and the pole was lit. Lexa saw as he lurched forward, his body sagging as he fell unconscious from blood loss. The flames had not reached him yet. He would be dead before they did.

With a wave, she dismissed the other ambassadors and ordered her warriors to cut and prepare the head. The crowd would stay and watch as the rest of the traitor's body burned. Some would say that he had not deserved such a harsh punishment, since there had been no actual victim, but she needed to make an example and send a clear message to the Ice queen. By cutting off his head before the body burned, she ensured his soul would not be free to be birthed again in a new life.

Like Nia had done with Costia.

She walked back to the Tower, followed by the two children and Clarke, and escorted by a dozen warriors. Her hand rested on her sword, eyes darting as she watched the shadows.

Clarke walked up to her, having noticed her tense state. ''You expect an attack.''

It was not a question, but she answered anyway, still checking any possible cache for an assassin. ''This would be an ideal time for my enemies to try something.''

A sharp cry behind her made her turn on the spot, watching as Aden fell to the ground, an arrow burrowed deep in his back. Strina was on the floor just a couple feet ahead of him, unharmed. She was the one who had cried.

Half of the guards were already chasing the running figure of the archer. Lexa barked to the rest to spread out and search the nearby houses for any more attackers. She still remembered the fourth man from the attack when she had met Clarke. She would not fall for the same trick again.

The young woman had ran to the blond boy after letting out a strangled cry of horror. Lexa stood over her Natblidas, sword drawn.

''What happened, Strina?''

The girl was rising to her feet, unsheathing her own favorite weapons – two long daggers.

''Aden must have seen the archer. He pushed me out of the way.''

Clarke had already pulled out the arrow, and the boy was groaning as she pressed against his wound. ''Be glad he did. The arrow did not hit anything major.''

Already, she was lifting her hand, and slowly helping Aden to stand. The boy coughed up blood and Lexa found Clarke's eyes, worried.

''It's alright.'' The blonde reassured immediately. ''He is just evacuating the blood that gathered in his lung because of the wound. He will be fine as soon as his body is rid of it all.''

Lexa nodded. ''We are going back to the Tower. Strina, take the rear. I will go in front.''

Clarke supported a still coughing and wheezing Aden as they followed Lexa. Three guards joined them a few moments later, reporting that they had found no one suspicious nearby.

They moved forward slowly, both because of Aden and because Lexa still felt wary. Something wasn't right. Why send only one assassin, that ran away at the first sign of trouble? Or had it been some fool who acted alone?

She relaxed slightly when she they turned in the street that led directly to the Tower, and she could see the guarded doors of her home. Once they passed those gates, they would be safe. Then she could wait for news on whether her guards managed to capture the attacker.

Again, she heard a pained scream behind her, and her heart froze when she recognized the voice.

Clarke.

At the same time, she heard a muffled groan of pain behind her, and saw the guards from the Tower start running towards her group. She swirled around.

The three guards escorting her had attacked her charges. The shock of the betrayal kept her rooted on the spot as her disbelieving mind struggled to comprehend the scene. Clarke had fallen to her knees, a dagger planted in her back and her hands pressed against Aden's blood-oozing neck. One guard was trying to pull her away from the boy while another stabbed her repeatedly with a dagger covered in black blood. Further away, the third guard had grabbed Strina, and was immobilizing her against his front as he slit her throat.

Black blood spurted out and Lexa threw herself forward with a furious snarl.

She sliced at the back of one of the men attacking Clarke, and followed with a quick kick at the back of his knees to bring him to the ground. Then she parried the dagger of his companion. With a growl, she retaliated with a sharp jab of her sword towards his neck, but the man deflected her blow. Sensing the other man trying to grab her ankles, she sidestepped.

She spared a glance down to see Clarke, dagger still burrowed in her back, breath labored as she crawled towards the young, bleeding natblida girl. Aden was lying unmoving, his neck covered in blood. She hoped he was still alive.

She already knew Clarke would not reach Strina in time. The slumped girl's eyes were becoming glassy.

She stomped her foot in the chest of the man still lying on the floor, satisfied to feel a few ribs crack as a pained scream escaped his lips. Confident he wouldn't bother her for the next few seconds, she strode towards the other attackers again, slashing her sword at the arm of one before knocking the other on the elbow with her pommel. She forced them back, intent on protecting whatever was left of her charges.

As she heard the other guards approaching, she steeled herself. If there were more people involved in this conspiracy, if those guards were coming to help her opponents instead of her, she would not be able to win this fight.

And what of the Nightbloods inside the Tower? Were they safe?

She was slightly reassured when the warriors threw themselves at the traitors. She cried at them to keep at least one alive for questioning before running to Aden and checking his wound.

There was none. Feverishly, she put her fingers on the side of his neck and exhaled when she felt a pulse. Clarke had saved him. Again.

She raised her eyes and saw the blonde clutching Strina's body. When she caught her gaze, the healer shook her head sadly, tears running freely down her cheeks.

Sheathing her sword, Lexa gathered the young boy in her arms. Her loyal warriors had subdued the traitorous ones. All three were alive, though one was bleeding profusely from a head wound and the one she had stepped on was unable to sit on his own. She nodded sharply at the guards, wordlessly instructing them to throw the lot of them in a cell until she had time to conduct an interrogation.

Lexa did not ask Clarke to heal any of them, and the young woman did not offer either, glaring coldly at the one who had killed Strina.

Belatedly, Lexa remembered that Clarke had been stabbed and hurried to her side, still carrying Aden.

''Is he okay?'' The blonde asked her, her gaze shifting to the unconscious boy.

''He is alive. What about you?'' She asked, noticing that her breathing was still labored.

''I am alive.'' She deadpanned. ''I need help pulling that knife out. I can't reach it.''

Her hold around Strina's body tightened. ''Lexa… I am so sorry. I couldn't… I tried to get to her, but…''

Lexa fought back the tears. Later she promised herself. Right now, she had to help Clarke, and make sure the rest of her Nightbloods were okay.

She gently laid an unconcious Aden back on the floor before moving around to Clarke's back.

''I just pull it out?'' She asked. She had seen the blonde heal from worse wounds, but this was not the only fatal wound she had suffered tonight – the attackers had seemed hell bent on stabbing the life out of her. Not to mention her stunt in the throne room this morning.

Was that really this morning? It suddenly felt so long ago.

Clarke nodded and Lexa saw her bracing herself for the pain. She laid one hand on her shoulder, both for support and leverage, and closed the other around the handle, deftly pulling the weapon out. She let out a small sigh of relief when she saw the wound seal itself instantly.

More guards had arrived, most likely sent by those who had escorted the prisoners away. Aden was stirring.

Lexa turned back to Clarke. ''Can you help him walk? I will carry Strina.'' She whispered, voice cracking slightly as her eyes fell on the small body and the pool of black blood already drying underneath it.

Slowly, she cradled the body to her chest, ripping her sash from her pauldron to cover her neck and hide the hideous wound from sight of others. The other novitiates did not need to see that. She felt Clarke release her own old on the girl and rose. Aden was coughing again, and Clarke attended him immediately.

His brown eyes sought her out, and she saw him stare at the limp form of Strina in her arms. She shook her head, and looked away.

She had failed her Natblidas.

Natblidas lives were always short. They died in the Conclave, or after a few years as Heda. The Hedas before her had slowly pushed up the age limit for the Conclave. Currently, no child under ten was supposed to take part in it. Aden and Strina had been brought to Polis before her own Ascension. Her last two years of training had been with them watching her and sleeping next door.

She had hoped to live as long as possible, to give them as many years as she could before they had to face each other in the Conclave. She had hoped – and still did – to push the age limit further, up to twelve or even fourteen, before she passed on.

She had hoped to pave the way so that the next one could reform the Conclave into a less deadly selection.

And now one of her children had died on her watch.

This was not supposed to happen. Heda was supposed to be the first to die. She was supposed to be the first to die.

After Costia, Lexa had refused herself any kind of close relationships, pushing away her friends and even her old mentor Anya. She had hoped that their eventual deaths would not hurt as much if she was already estranged from them emotionally.

But she had not closed herself off from her Natblidas. Her novitiates were safe, because she would never see them die. She was sometimes hesitant in her displays of affection, knowing they would eventually have to kill one another and not wanting to show favoritism. But she had never denied them her care and smiles. Because, selfishly, she knew she would never live to bear the weight of their deaths.

And now Strina's body weighed heavily in her arms.

Grief was crushing her, but she had to keep going. She had to make sure the other children were alright. She had to find out who else was part of this conspiracy that had cost Strina's life. She had to honor her young Nightblood now that her fight had ended.

They entered the elevator, alongside Clarke who was half-carrying Aden. The boy had stopped coughing, but he was visibly weakened by the blood loss – or perhaps it was the shock of seeing his fellow Nightblood get murdered.

Quietly, eyes staring at the wall, she asked.

''Clarke, will you take Aden to your room to help him wash up and ensure he is well? I need to prepare…'' She stammered. ''I need to prepare her for the ceremony. And tell the others.''

The blonde looked her up and down before she nodded. ''Wash yourself before you talk to the kids.'' She recommended softly, eyes lingering on her blood stained clothes and hands.

Black blood mixed with red blood. A lot of it. And none from her.

Clarke was right. The youngest novitiates didn't need to see that either. Strina's death would be hard enough news in itself.

They reached Heda's floor where a warrior informed them that the Natblidas were safely in their quarters, and unaware of what had happened. With a nod to Clarke and Aden, she headed to the least used room of this floor – the room where she had last gone to honor the previous Heda before her own Conclave. The room she had never wanted to enter again in her life. But she intended to see to it that Strina was honored as she should be. She delicately deposited the small body on the large table.

She exited the room and ordered the warriors to guard the door as if it was their Heda's bedchamber. Then she sent another one to get Titus. He knew better than her what should be done for a Natblida's funeral.

She hurried to her room, ripping off her clothes as soon as she closed her door, and using the cold water that had been brought to scrub away the blood on her person. She quickly inspected herself in a mirror before slipping on clean clothes. Then she walked back to the elevator.

Her novitiates had heard the commotion, and were gathered worriedly in their room. She saw the relief in their young eyes when they saw her enter the room, reassured that there would be no Conclave on the morrow. Her heart clenched, knowing how terrible the news would be to them. Aden and Strina were like their older siblings, almost mentors to them all.

She let the grief show on her face and waved them closer, hugging them as she shared the tale of what had happened tonight. She reassured them several times that Aden was alright, that Clarke had saved him but that Strina had been too far for the healer to reach in time. She warned them that the situation was not sorted yet, and that they should not leave their rooms – or only through the secret passage to visit Clarke and Aden.

She hated to leave them like this, and hoped Clarke would not mind them invading her room. The children needed comfort, but she had to ensure their safety first. They might not know Clarke well yet, but she knew they had liked the time spent with her, and that her own trust in the blonde encouraged the children to be less reserved with the young woman. She had no doubt they would seek her and Aden for comfort while she tended to the most pressing matters.