A/N: Enjoy!
Chapter 17: Lost and found
The following day, Lexa asked Clarke to attend the meeting with the ambassadors. Azgeda had finally sent a replacement, and she felt it was the right time to announce that the Commander would now have emissaries in each of the clans.
The Commander, after many interviews and deliberations, had decided to send one senior ambassador along with an apprentice – whom she had found while searching for an apprentice for Titus. They would of course be accompanied by some guards, but she kept the number of warriors to a minimum. She did not want the new measure to be perceived as an attack or a threat.
The announcement was met with a lot of grumbling by the representatives from the most powerful clans – Azgeda being the loudest – but the smaller clans that had benefited a lot from the improved trade with the Coalition quickly declared their support. Lack of arguments forced the totality of the clans to agree to house the Commander's representatives for at least a year before the matter might be discussed again. Though Lexa had told Clarke that she expected her ambassadors to encounter a lot of animosity and interference in some clans.
Meanwhile, Murphy had completed his first two board games. One was a military campaign where each player had a small army and a different objective to complete – defend a zone, retrieve an object in an enemy's camp, etc – and the other was a civilization building one where the players had to manage and trade resources to expand their respective cities and lands.
Clarke brought him and his games to Lexa, where the boy explained the rules and grand principles of each game. She allowed him to direct one game with the Nightbloods to test them, and observed the proceedings attentively with Clarke. The blonde could see the interest and enjoyment growing in her eyes as she witnessed the joy and seriousness of her charges as they applied everything they had learned from their Heda in those games. Murphy was first surprised by the proficiency of the children, as some were only four or five years old, but soon assumed his role of game master with delight.
Even Titus, who had been vocal in his doubt of the activity, grew silent and watchful as he observed. The man had been growing more and more insufferable lately, which Clarke interpreted as him not finding an apprentice that suited him. When Lexa decided that the Nightbloods would regularly play the two games as a way to train their negotiating and managing skills, he did not protest.
Clarke wasn't sure what Lexa planned to do with the Fleimkeepa. As far as she knew, all the promising teenagers she had found had been sent to the twelve clans to train under Lexa's new ambassadors. But the current Flame keeper seemed unable to settle on an apprentice. She had seen him having a few young girls or boys follow him around for a day or two. None had met the Nightbloods, or got within ten meters of Heda, and all had obviously been dismissed.
''You said he used to have an apprentice. What's the story, then? Did the apprentice leave? Did he die?'' She asked Lexa one day after the young leader remarked that the time limit she had set for her advisor was fast approaching.
''I do not know the details. It happened very shortly after I was brought to Polis, so I must have been only two or three. Flame keepers are not supposed to be warriors, but Titus' apprentice was sent to train with other Sekens. He died, but I think it was unclear whether that was from an attack or an accident.'' She replied.
''And he hasn't tried to find a new apprentice ever since?''
''Either that or he never found one that suited him. This apprentice had already been with him for years, as I understand. His death hit him hard.'' Lexa added.
Clarke frowned. ''Is that when he started sprouting that 'Love is weakness' nonsense to all the natblidas?''
The Commander paused in her eating as she considered her healer's words. ''I do not know. He has been saying it as far as I can remember. I just assumed he always did.''
''But the Commanders before you, did they shun away from all relationships? Did the Heda that raised you ever tell you that you had to be alone if you became Heda?'' Clarke insisted.
''Not… specifically.'' She admitted. ''But he did advise us against relationships until our Conclave – it wouldn't be fair to our partner. And warned that we might not be as impartial as we ought to be as Heda if we were involved with someone from a clan.''
Clarke wanted to ask if other Commanders had taken lovers or spouses – Lexa had had Costia, until she was killed – and how the people had usually taken it. However, she felt that the subject was not a safe one, considering her own attraction to the young leader. She had already decided that she shouldn't pursue her.
She paused in her thoughts and discretely glanced at the other woman. Why had she decided that again?
Ah yes, ambassadors should not date the other party. But, the Ark would take over soon, right? So maybe it would be alright now?
She shook her head. No, Lexa had lost a lover, and more recently a child. Granted, Strina was not her daughter biologically speaking but she had raised the girl for years. The death had hit her hard, even though grounder culture was not big on showing your feelings – at least in the Tower, it seemed different amongst the citizens – she had seen it.
She should not push. Besides, Lexa was older and seemed half-convinced she would die soon. She doubted the brunette was looking for a relationship. Moreover, she was unsure this relationship would be advisable. What if it didn't work out?
''Are you alright, Klark?'' Lexa asked, worry slightly tainting her voice.
Of course, she had been zoning out and shaking her head at nothing.
''I am. Just thinking. Still no news from the Ark, or of Octavia and that scout?'' She asked, deeming that she needed a change of subject.
''The Exodus is scheduled to land in two days, Klark.'' Lexa scolded her gently. ''And it will take at least another day for a riding messenger to reach Polis. As for Octavia, I received a note from Anya this morning.''
''And you did not tell me?'' Clarke said, feeling betrayed by the omission.
Lexa smiled reassuringly. ''I was going to. The note only says that she found where they are, and that she is escorting them to Polis as we speak. There are no other details, aside from the scout's name – Lincoln.''
She sagged in her seat. ''That's it? Are all your generals so laconic in their correspondence?'' She sneered, disappointed. She did not really care for the scout's name. She would have preferred reassurances that Octavia was okay.
''Your proficiency in writing is an exceptional skill for my people, Klark. My generals simply do not see the point of wasting time writing down non vital information that they will soon share orally.'' Lexa explained, still calm.
Clarke felt guilty for her outburst. ''Sorry. The whole situation with the Ark, and waiting for Mount Weather to attack… I feel stressed, I guess.''
''You are not used to campaign. Your reaction is normal. On my first campaigns, I would spend the days and hours before the battle frantically reviewing my plans. But it is no use. Plans rarely last in battle.''
She paused. ''Though I must admit that I have never prepared a campaign quite like we did for the Mountain. I usually have a main plan and some ideas of what I can do if things don't turn out how I want them to. You and I have planned for nearly all possible outcomes – I am confident this will work, though I hope the clans will not frown on my decision not to involve them in preparations.''
''You had a hard time accepting that the Mountain's arrogant attitude should be encouraged and used. If the chief clans are half as proud as their ambassadors, they would never have accepted our plans.'' Clarke reminded her.
''I know. That is why I find the games made by your friend so interesting. They will force the natblidas to learn this kind of military approach, rather than just numbers and positioning. And it teaches them to take into account their opponents' character and sometimes illogical or unexpected reactions.''
She rose from her seat to return to her duties as she gave one last advice. ''You should do something that relaxes you. The battle may still be weeks away – months if the snow comes first. You will be exhausted by the time it happens if you do not calm your nerves.''
Clarke decided to listen to her and offered herself an afternoon free of tedious reading. Now that she had sorted all the books she knew, she had to read – or really, skid – through the unknown books. Some were interesting, or even fun. Others – many – were simply boring.
Instead, she went to her rooms and picked up the art projects she had neglected these last couple of weeks. Strina's portrait was the only one she had finished before Monty's and Bellamy's arrival.
She took out her drawings of Polis and Lexa, adding some details and smoothing lines until she was satisfied with the effect. Then, staring at Lexa's and Strina's faces, she decided to draw all the important people in her life – alive or dead.
She started with her father. It had been over a year since his death, she realized as she sketched his jaw. And several months since she had drawn him. She had done it in solitary, sometimes. But she would never let the drawing on the wall for long – looking at his face was too painful. Yet she had kept drawing him the first few weeks, terrified she would forget his face if she didn't.
And then, one day, she had been unable to draw him. She still remembered his face, that was not the problem. So she had started to draw other things that reminded her of him. His watch. The flowers he used to show her in picture books. How he imagined the moon looked like from the ground.
And slowly, she had kept drawing anything that came to mind, and stopped thinking of her father. Her mind going numb with the weight of solitude, she had felt the need to draw the faces of the prisoners she caught only glimpses of when she was escorted to the bathroom.
Now, she discovered that her father's face was still as bright in her memory, her fingers tracing the lines without her even needing to consciously direct them to. But seeing his face slowly appearing on the paper did not bring the same pain in her chest that always had accompanied drawing him on her wall. As she tried to catch on paper the glint he had in his eyes whenever he was doing something mischievous, her heart did not hurt as much as it used too. She smiled.
Time healed all wounds. It seemed that old saying was true, after all. Or perhaps it was Lexa, Raven, Monty and the children that had given her heart something else to pour her love into.
She moved on to a drawing of Jasper, but gave up half-way through it. Seeing his face was still painful. She felt guilty for not saving him with her gift because she was convinced this red seaweed would do the trick. It might have, if Bellamy and the others had not decided to end the boy's suffering. She would never know.
She also felt guilty for not revealing her abilities to Monty. She was terrified the boy would resent her, and she did not want to lose her friend. He was busy with Raven and the preparations for Mount Weather, and had not questioned why the grounders called her 'Healing Nymph' – or just thought it was because of her training in medicine. But she knew it was only a matter of time until he found out.
She drew Wells more easily, though her heart still clenched at the sight of his boyish features. He had been so young. Several months younger than her. Yet she had always thought of him as some sort of big brother, watching out for her and keeping the bullies away at school.
Then, she decided to draw Aden. She loved all the children, but she had an especially soft spot for the blond boy. He was the oldest, and reminded her a lot of Lexa in the way he seemed to carry half the world on his small shoulders. Titus teachings were also visible in his guarded and overly serious attitude, while the younger nightbloods still retained some childish exuberance. But Lexa's lessons were also evident in the way he quietly took care of his young classmates. He was always the last one to go to sleep, checking on the others, and the one to volunteer when Titus proposed an activity no one wanted to partake in. He had his mentor's sense of sacrifice. It was as endearing as it was frightening.
She also drew the other nightbloods, in order of age. Perni, a black-haired boy that was about eight. Calia, a clear-eyed girl with dark skin – she had found the combination breath-taking. Then Minnea with her hazel eyes, whom she drew with her current smile – lips closed because she was embarrassed by her moving teeth, no matter how many times Clarke or Lexa told her it was perfectly normal. Next was Washi, also six and losing teeth, a cute little boy with hair a shade lighter than Lexa's.
Finally, she drew Rawon and Niom, the two four year-old boys. She had been surprised when Lexa mentioned that they were twins. Fraternal, as they did not look like each other – their eyes were different colors, and Rawon's hair was significantly darker. Clarke had suspected that they were related, but she was still not used to the concept of biological siblings. She knew all there was to know about it, but she had spent seventeen years in an only child society. Her only experiences in dealing with siblings were Bellamy and Octavia, and the kids from the first village she had stumbled upon.
Her gaze dropped to the pile of plant drawings she had yet to finish and she felt a little guilty for not finishing them instead. She had hoped to send them before snow arrived and made travel more difficult for a messenger with a fragile package. Worse, she prided herself on being a healer, but recently she had spent more time planning a war than learning herbal medicine.
Oh, she visited the Polis healers for at least an hour everyday, but she was usually assaulted with people with badly healing wounds or incurable diseases. She could never refuse to heal them – some had traveled from quite far with a loved one, despite being unsure they would have enough time to return home before winter. Sometimes, such people would even apply directly at the entrance of the Tower.
All in all, the time she spent in healer's homes had not really been dedicated to learning how to use this new pharmacopeia. With a sigh, she pulled out the drawings and notes and started to review them. It reminded her of the digital books from her mother that she studied whenever possible. It was not rare, on the Ark, to have a sort of apprenticeship long before finishing school. People who were idling were looked down upon, seen as a waste of resources. She knew many people took the first job they were offered out of fear of being shunned, rather than wait for a better opportunity. People like Raven, with both the talent and the drive to apply for a job in which they had no relatives to recommend them, were rare.
This quiet afternoon did help her recover a sense of calm that had eluded her lately. She could feel her mind taking a step back, acknowledging that she had done whatever she could for now, and that things would unfold one way or another and she would just have to deal with it. Grounders had many political divisions. So what if the people from the Ark separated in several factions once they reached the ground? Did it matter if Jaha was killed? Everyone hoped to return to the ground, and the whole Council now knew it was safe. Her concern was for the general population of the Ark, not one man she disliked.
She went to sleep early, hoping that she would be able to compensate some of the short nights she had had over the last few days. The nightbloods fell asleep as she started the second chapter of The Chamber of Secrets and she hugged Aden after he settled in his own bed with The Hobbit – he was almost half-way through. She bid good night to Lexa as they walked up, and thanked her for her advice. It was dark in the passage, but she was certain she saw a soft smile play on her lips in the candlelight.
She awoke with the sun, which was later than usual for her. Even after over a month on the ground, she still had trouble evaluating time from candles and the sun. She knew the days were growing shorter, but not all the candles melted at the same pace – which made the candle-mark very imprecise in her mind. She had taken the habit of just being early whenever she was given a precise time to be somewhere.
She spent her morning in her usual routine – she skipped drawing since she was late – meeting Lexa for breakfast and then giving lessons to the Natblidas. Today was a morning spent in the training glade – which she both loved and hated. She enjoyed being outside, seeing the children play in between spars, or the few proud moments when she hit her target with an arrow. She hated, however, when Lexa trained with her and she spent more time sprawled in the dirt than standing. It was a painful reminder that she came from a different culture – though she knew it was absolutely not what the young woman intended – no matter how much she felt like she fit in.
With the Ark coming down, she felt torn. She wanted to stay with Lexa and the children, but she feared the platonic relationship would grow painful. And she felt somewhat apart from everyone. The warriors deferred to her, the inhabitants of Polis looked up to her. There were very few people with whom she could feel like a normal person and an equal – Raven, Murphy, Monty and Lexa.
On the other hand, the people from the Ark saw her as nothing special, and would not have such high expectations for her. She understood their culture because she had grown with it, even though she did not approve a lot of it – not that she wholly approved the grounders' either, but she knew how committed Lexa was to improve it. She had no such assurances with the Council. But in many ways, life with the Ark people would be easier, and probably less painful.
It would not be as fulfilling. She was already certain of that. A month in Polis had taught her more about herself than seventeen years in the Ark.
After landing on her bottom for the fifth time, she begged Lexa to switch to daggers. She had given up on swords, her coordination was simply not good enough. She constantly misjudged the distances, making her step too close to her opponent or slash when she was a good two feet away from her target. The brunette had not commented on it, simply suggested that they focused on weapons she felt more comfortable with.
Watching the Commander spar with Aden was always impressive. They were fast, precise, always stepping one way and then the other, pushing back and forth, parrying and deflecting blows that Clarke only saw once they were stopped by the other. To see an eleven boy with such skill was amazing – and somewhat disturbing, but she had grown used to it, and she preferred to think about him being able to defend himself. Meanwhile, she could tell that Lexa was holding back.
So far, she had never seen Lexa give her best in a fight. When they had been attacked, she had not payed attention to the fight, but even so she could tell that the opponents had relied on surprise more than skills. She had heard that the Commander regularly fought several warriors from her guard, but it usually happened during afternoons, so she had always been busy in the library.
This afternoon, however, they expected to see Anya with her recently found fugitives. Lexa had warned Clarke that, no matter what Octavia had done or not, Lincoln abandoning his post and fleeing with a potential enemy was treason. It would have to be condemned some way or another.
They received a message that Anya had crossed the city gates and went to the throne room to await her. Clarke was nervous about seeing the blonde general again.
She had been angry when they had met the first time, but she now knew that the general had not truly been to blame – even Murphy's torture had been mild compared to what she knew the grounders could do. She had also learned more of the relationship between Lexa and her former mentor, so she hoped to make a better impression this time.
When the doors opened, though, her eyes were drawned to Octavia.
The rebellious girl was gone. Instead, she was facing a young, brunette grounder dressed as and with the hairdo of a warrior. There were no weapons on her – as was the rule for most inside the Tower – but she could see a sword sheath protruding from her back and several places for daggers around her waist. She had grown muscles as well, and her eyes had lost some of the childish wonder and constant challenging look she remembered from the dropship.
She had matured, and found a place to belong to. If she had not known her from before, she would never have suspected that this was the same socially awkward girl that had grown under the floor in the Ark.
It was also comforting to see that someone other than herself had embraced the local culture. Clarke herself now wore braids in her hair daily – though simpler ones than those she had had Raven help her with for the ceremonial occasions, so she could do them herself – and favored the clothing Lexa had provided her and that was similar to that of any ambassador.
Raven and Monty, on the other hand, kept their clothes from the dropship or chose clothing that was most similar to it, and she had yet to see the mechanic with a single braid, or Monty with a beard. She was unsure about Murphy. His choice of clothing seemed purely random – she had seen him wearing both style, sometimes even a strange and dubious mix of them, but she had yet to figure out any logic in what was worn when – and he seemed to be growing a beard. But whether it was an attempt to fit in with the grounders or him trying on a new look, she didn't know.
Octavia had once claimed that she did not care about the Ark. Clearly, she had decided to make the most of this new start of the ground, and had embraced her lover's culture. Clarke even noticed a little smear of war paint near her right ear. She did not have any tattoo, but Lexa had explained that these had often a lot of signification in the different clans, and were usually awarded in a ceremony. If Lincoln had been on the run, it was unlikely they had visited a village for Octavia to get the mark of a hunter or warrior.
Then she shifted her eyes to the left and took in the huge, dark-skinned man that accompanied her. He had tattoos on his chest, made visible by his partially torn shirt, but none on his face – marking him as a senior scout, but not an officer, as she had learned from her stay in Polis. She noticed that his hands were loosely tied, while Octavia's were free. From the way the two interacted, it was clear that they were involved.
And from the glare Octavia sent the general whenever she wasn't looking, Clarke estimated that her new-found maturity had not rid her of her spunk.
It was reassuring, somehow.
Anya walked up to the dais and bowed. As she straightened up, Clarke saw her glance at her. She offered her a brief nod and a small smile, and the general responded with a sharp jutting of her chin and – more significantly – by moving her right hand away from her sword.
Clarke concealed a sigh of relief by moving her head slightly to the side, in a show of looking to the Commander. Only Heda and her guards or generals were allowed to keep weapons in the Tower since Strina's death and the traitorous ambassador, but most visiting generals divested them when entering the throne room. The healer was quite sure that Anya had only been allowed to keep hers because of her unique relationship with Lexa, and that she had opted to use this favor because she did not fully trust Clarke.
She would have to talk to the other blonde at some point. But at least this meeting would not end with the sword's point against her throat.
Lexa welcomed her old mentor with a thin smile that disappeared as soon as she turned to the two accompanying figures.
''Okteivia kom Skaikru, I welcome you to Polis. We may discuss future arrangements for you later.'' She greeted formally before addressing her traitorous scout.
''Linkon. I will hear you now. What do you wish to say regarding your actions?''
Her tone was cold, and Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine even though it wasn't directed at her. A few weeks earlier, Lexa would probably have been more annoyed than anything by the circumstances – a scout running away because he was in love – and given him a relatively light punishment. Like a banishment from his clan but without depriving him of the right to ask for shelter in Polis or any other clan that was willing to accept him.
But since the recent revelation of Tower guards involved with Azgeda's conspiracy, treason had become a touchy subject. She would grill Lincoln until she was absolutely certain that he had nothing to do with Nia, and even then she would probably feel less inclined to clemency.
''I apologize, Heda. I know what I did was wrong, but I felt that we should attempt to talk to the sky people before attacking them.'' He replied.
From his uncertain voice, Clarke could tell that he did not believe in his own argument. A really inadvisable thing when sparring words with the Commander.
''Don't you have an officer to whom to go when you have such ideas to propose?'' The woman immediately shot back, acidly.
Anya grunted her assent.
The huge man seemed to shorten under his Commander's glare.
''Sha, Heda.'' He replied meekly.
Meanwhile, Clarke saw Octavia's eyes widen as she finally noticed her. She supposed that her own appearance had changed more than she thought, since the girl looked her up and down several times before mouthing her name with a surprised look. Or perhaps she was trying to figure out how exactly the supposedly dead 'Princess' now found herself standing on the right side of the Commander.
Octavia's sky origins were betrayed in her lack of discipline when she interrupted the interrogation that could decide the life or death of her companion.
''How the hell are you here?'' She demanded, her hand reflexively going over her shoulder to grasp her absent sword, swearing loudly when her fingers closed on empty air.
Lexa rolled her eyes and sighed – Clarke sent her an apologetic and amused look, knowing the brunette had had to get used to such behavior from her other sky friends.
The Commander turned her face to Clarke, though her eyes remained focused on the other brunette.
''Her brother tried to kill you, and she just threatened you. Are you certain she can be trusted?'' She asked.
Octavia's hand dropped to her side. ''What? Bell tried to kill you? He is here?'' She fired her questions as she took several steps towards the blonde healer. Lexa and Anya frowned in response and Lincoln hastily grabbed her shoulder with his tied hands to stop his lover from antagonizing the powerful warriors any further.
''She was my friend, and I doubt she had anything to do with Bellamy's attempt against me. I have no idea what she went through since then, but she has always been a hot-head. I don't think she meant to threaten me just now.'' Clarke replied to Lexa before turning to Octavia.
''Or did you?'' She wondered out loud. She had no idea what the brunette could have heard about the Healing Nymph, or what she might have become over the last few weeks. For all she knew, the couple might have sought refuge in Azgeda since Lincoln had betrayed Trikru.
''No!'' The brunette cried vehemently. ''What is that about Bellamy trying to kill you? Have you seen him? What about the others – the camp looked abandoned when that woman dragged us by it.'' She jutted her chin towards Anya and Clarke refrained the urge to facepalm.
Was it too much to ask for friends that did not repeatedly insult the people she was trying to negotiate their life and freedom with?
Before anyone could react though, a guard knocked loudly against the doors and proclaimed that an urgent message had arrived for the Commander and the Nymph.
They exchanged a surprised look. There was only one subject that would result in a message explicitly addressed to both of them: the Ark.
The Commander called out to let the messenger in, and gestured to Anya to push her prisoners to the side of the room. Octavia dropped into a chair and shot back up when the general kicked her shin.
A young woman in riding gear came in and bowed to Lexa and Clarke while the healer took a step closer, worried. If it was a message from the radio, she would have recognized the girl – she knew everyone in the Tower by face now – and there would have been no need for riding gear. Her heart pounded in her chest. Something had happened.
''Heda, Nymph. The metal ship you warned us about appeared early. It landed in a ball of flames, several miles away from where it was supposed to. We went to investigate and welcome the delegation, but…'' The girl's face turned ashen from the memories. ''There was no one alive. We only found torn pieces of metal and burned bodies. We haven't dared to investigate the site again since something exploded. Only one warrior was injured, thankfully.''
Clarke felt the blood drain from her face and her legs wobbled. Lexa rose from her throne and put an anchoring hand on her shoulder while she dismissed the messenger for now and told Anya to guard the other two for now. The sounds seemed muffled to Clarke's ears as the blood returned, pumping in full force against her eardrums. She took a shaky step forward, stumbling as she failed to register the edge of the dais, and the pain of her knee hitting the ground shook her out of her stupor.
She started running to the door, ignoring Lexa calling after her, as a sole idea filled her mind: get to the radio and contact the Ark to find out what happened – and whether or not her mother had been aboard the Exodus. The familiar hallways faded into a blur as her feet carried her down the stairs to Raven's room.
She barged into the room and nearly dived to the button of the radio.
''Clarke to the Ark! Do you read me? Ark, can you hear me? Ark?'' She cried in a broken voice.
The button became blurry as she insisted. ''Mom? Mom, are you there? Clarke Griffin to the Ark, can anyone hear me?''
Static was the only thing to be heard when she released the button. Her heart rose in her throat. She fumbled to push it one more time, her voice now reduced to a pleading whisper.
''Ark, do you read me? This is Clarke Griffin. Can anyone hear me?''
A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and gently pulled her away from the radio.
''Clarke… Connection is lost. There is no one up there that can hear you.'' She recognized Raven's voice, though it lacked its usual sass. ''Do you know what happened?'' She continued as she turned Clarke in her arms to face her, a slight tremble entering her voice.
The blonde buried her head against her friend's shoulder. ''The… the Exodus crashed. No one made it.'' She stammered out as she started sobbing in earnest, letting grief consume her.