Clarke sat in a wooden chair, her sleeve rolled up to the elbow and Ontari on her knees before her. It was late morning outside and the sounds of children playing, fighting, sparring and any other village noise filtered in through her shuttered window.
A single ray of sunlight streamed into the room she had taken residence within, and she marvelled at the motes of light that danced on what little of the breeze wriggled its way through the windows.
"The scouts, Heda?" Ontari asked quietly, frown across her face as she carefully unwrapped a vial from the case in her hands.
"Trikru warriors from Polis will arrive soon," Clarke said and not for the first time she wondered if she had made a mistake ordering such large numbers of her warriors into the surrounding forests, she wondered if her people would be able to hide from the Mountain, she wondered if she had just doomed hundreds, perhaps thousands of her people to a fiery death.
"They will be well hidden," Ontari said quietly as she looked up from where she knelt before her.
Clarke turned her gaze from a lonely mote of light and to the kneeling woman before her. Ontari's hair was braided just the way she had always braided it, the patterns winding their way through the amber brown mess so very much like any young snow maiden of the great frozen Azgeda plains.
Despite the ferocity she knew Ontari prone to exhibit, despite the ruthlessness of the woman in battle, Clarke enjoyed the youth that clung to the woman's cheeks, to the devotion in her eyes. Clarke reached out and let her hand come to rest against Ontari's cheek softly, her fingers gentle as they stroked against the edges of the scars across her flesh.
The sight before her wasn't unfamiliar, it certainly wasn't the first time Ontari had ever been on her knees before her, she didn't think it would be the last either. Part of Clarke hated whatever thing existed between them, and part of her cherished it for she knew life was too short to ignore bodily wants, just as she knew life was too short for her to let herself feel too much more for anyone.
"Heda?" Ontari asked quietly as she leant into her touch, one hand coming to rest atop Clarke's knee in silent offering.
Clarke remained quiet as Ontari's hand slowly began to move up the inside of her leg, her fingers sure, her eyes never wavering as she held her gaze. Clarke couldn't help but to admire the determination beginning to take hold, but before Ontari could take her ministrations further Clarke reached down and let her hand close around Ontari's wrist with a regretful squeeze.
"Perhaps later, Ontari," Clarke said as she looked to the door of her quarters where shadows could be seen standing beyond. "Maya is waiting."
It wasn't uncommon for her to turn Ontari's offers down and so it didn't surprise her when Ontari pulled her hand back. Clarke held out her arm, sleeve still rolled up to her elbow and she watched as Ontari leant forward and kissed the inside of her wrist.
It was erotically obscene watching Ontari kiss the inside of her wrist with so much passion. Through it all Ontari's gaze never wavered from hers. Clarke found herself drawn into the way the woman's lips brushed and bruised against her skin, she found herself embracing the sting of teeth biting into her flesh and she found herself falling into the feeling of Ontari's tongue as it soothed the flesh between her teeth. Clarke shivered as Ontari bit down just a little more firmly before pulling her mouth away and running the sharpened edge of her knife across the blackening bruise.
The pain was hardly felt as Clarke reached out and brushed away the traces of blood that clung to the woman's lips. In response Ontari closed her lips around the pad of one of her fingers and nipped it with her teeth. But her moment's distraction was broken as she felt a burning pain splinter through her now gaping wrist.
She looked down to see Ontari holding the vial to her wound and pressing it in to catch as much of her blood that spilled from the gaping cut before it closed. The first time they had done this Ontari had hardly cut deep enough for a single drop of blood to spill. It had taken Clarke's own self-surgery before Ontari had been willing to cut so deep as to expose bone and tendon, but they had come to understand the moment they shared was important, was sacred, was something that needed to be done if their people were to survive.
Clarke watched as her wound began to stitch itself back together. She watched as she felt the burning and stinging pull at her flesh and she watched as the last of the wound closed to leave only the black of her blood across her flesh as sign that she had ever been hurt. Ontari held the vial up for her to see, the black of her blood seemingly shifting within the confines of where it now found itself as if it was a living, breathing mass of softs.
Clarke stroked the side of Ontari's face once more before she rose from her chair and wiped away the blood with a clean cloth as she rolled down her sleeve and turned to face the door, Ontari quick to come to her feet and stand beside her, vial held delicately in her hands.
"Enter," Clarke called out.
The doors to her quarters were opened by Gustus who had been standing outside, the man's body almost comically large compared to the door frame that silhouetted him. Maya, hair ever wild and kept back in a single braid down her back stepped past him awkwardly and came to stand just inside her quarters, hands holding a metallic canister and eyes turned downwards in awkward uncertainty. Clarke nodded to Gustus just once, the motion enough for the man to close the door and seal their privacy away from prying eyes.
Clarke noticed Maya's fingers twitching ever so slightly though, and she couldn't help but to feel sorry for the younger woman, just barely.
"How long do you have?" Clarke asked as she stepped forward.
"Not long," Maya said as she looked up and met her gaze with something not quite fearful, and something not quite relaxed. "I can already feel the burning in my fingertips.
"Sit," Clarke gestured for the very same chair she had been siting in not one moment earlier.
Maya moved to sit in the chair, the relief evident in the woman's body as her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Pity took hold for only a split second for Clarke understood that Maya never quite knew if she would receive her next dose of blood, if she would be allowed to live for another day on the ground. But another part of Clarke wanted to rip the girl's throat open, to make her bleed just as much as every single nightblood had bled for years. But Clarke was cold, she was calculating, she was ruthless and willing to do whatever it took.
Maya began to fumble with the canister in her hands, her fingers now shaking visibly as she tried to open the end that would accept the vial of Clarke's blood held in Ontari's hands.
Clarke knew the signs of desperation, she knew the signs of panic all too well from the number of people she had slipped her blades into throughout her years as Commander. And so Clarke recognised the slightest signs of panic beginning to form within Maya's eyes as she began to scratch at the side of her wrist, as her lips began to tremble and as her eyes darted up from the canister and to Ontari who had made no moves to help so far.
"What I give to you is a gift," Clarke said slowly, her voice emotionless and cold.
"Yes, Heda," Maya said and Clarke could see tears beginning to form in the corner of Maya's eyes as her flesh began to just barely twitch on its own accord.
"What your people take from my brothers and sisters is not theirs to take," and Clarke wondered just how far she could let Maya burn before her blood wouldn't save her.
"I know, Heda," Maya said, her voice now frayed and hoarse.
Clarke fell silent as she watched Maya's knuckles whiten around the canister in her hands as she held it outwards to Ontari, the motion part desperate and part resigned acceptance.
"Help her," Clarke said finally and Ontari stepped forward, took the canister from Maya's hands and slipped the vial into it. A satisfying hiss echoed out then and Clarke watched as Maya desperately rolled up her sleeve to reveal that her flesh had reddened, that her veins had began to grow more and more pronounced.
Maya took back the canister and pressed it to one of her veins as she pressed a button on its side. She grimaced, her fingers clawed at the air, and always fascinated, Clarke watched as the window in the canister showed her blood forced down and into Maya's arm, into whatever vein the woman had found. She watched as the black of what she had given willingly began to spider and creep its way through the woman's veins and up her arm and she watched as a tear escaped past Maya's closed eyes and followed the curve of her cheek.
Maya's breaths began to come more ragged and faster as the blood Clarke had gifted her began flowing through her veins. Clarke watched as the woman's skin tone fluctuated just a little before returning to what it had been earlier. It took another moment before Maya's breathing settled and her eyes opened and then whatever discomfort, whatever pain and panic Maya had been feeling was replaced by a relief so very evident upon her face.
But that, too, didn't last long because Maya pulled the vial out of the canister and held it out for Ontari to take before she tucked the canister into one of her pockets. Something clicked though, and Clarke saw the change in the woman's eyes, she saw the shifting in demeanour and the hardening of her resolve.
"I swore loyalty to you," Maya said, and though her eyes seemed harder, her voice remained just as respectful as it had always been. "I have never given you any reason to doubt my actions," and Clarke couldn't deny that she was impressed with the woman's determination, but only slightly, if only because she thought it would have been more impressive had Maya said all these things while her body began to burn.
"That is all true," Clarke said into the silence that followed. "Tell me, Maya," Clarke continued. "Do you think your people would welcome you back with open arms?" she paused to let Maya digest her question. "You live only because I live," Clarke said. "You live only if the Mountain falls," she gestured outwards in no particular direction. "And if I die? You will die."
Though it was approaching midday the forest was dark and cool. The greatest of trees rose up into the sky overhead, the green canopy blocked out much of the blue sky and what little of the sun's light stabbed down to the ground as if to guide Lexa forward.
Lexa half walked, half crept through the forest. Her fingers had grown numb from how tightly she held onto her rifle and she didn't know if she even still walked in the right direction anymore.
The revelation of Mount Weather's existence and her conversation with Carl had at times made her think she lived a dream, and at times made her bewildered or disbelieving or simply relieved. Not for the first time she berated herself for not even considering that humanity had managed to survive in underground fortresses. She even wondered if other people lived in what had become their own prison all over earth.
But Lexa's thoughts never travelled far for she felt the familiar prickle on the back of her neck that had come and gone throughout the time she had spent on the ground. She paused by a moss covered tree and leant against it as she pretended to catch her breath, the effort not fully forced from her hours of walking. Lexa looked out around her and she tried to peer into the shadows that seemed to swallow the forest whole. She didn't know if it was her mind playing games with her, she didn't know if it was her paranoia or some an animalistic relic of the past that made her mind revert back to a state of concern fear. But the longer she looked at any given shadow, the more she swore she could see eyes staring back at her, watching, observing, stalking and waiting.
A twig snapping echoed out in the distance, the disturbance enough for Lexa to startle and to spin around and face the direction of the sound only to find a bird jumping from tree branch to tree branch somewhere just out of reach.
Lexa let out the breath she didn't realise she had been holding, and she felt the spike of adrenaline begin to taper and ebb as she pushed off from the tree and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her fraying mind.
And so, with one last look around her, she began walking towards where she had seen the drop ship from the hill all the while wondering just how she was going to explain the existence of Mount Weather to the others.
The dungeons below Ton DC were a maze of circular tunnels wide enough to move hundreds of warriors to and fro without notice. Some tunnels' walls were tiled, the colour a dirtied grey that would have once been glistening white. Metal tracks, rusted and wrought into place lined the ground underfoot and Clarke continued to step ever so lightly across the broken surfaces beneath her.
Some passageways remained permanently collapsed, the path they must have cut through the underground lost to history. But some had been mapped, had been categorised and secretly cleared just a few short years earlier.
Most of Clarke's inner circle had thought it foolish to waste resources clearing the passageways, most had thought her mad. One had even tried to take her life for it. But now, as the pieces slowly continued to fall into place, Clarke knew it had been worth the political set backs, the assassination attempts and the pain she had suffered for years.
A distance flickering of light came into view. A torch held high above someone's head danced in the barely noticeable breeze, it cast a great shadow across the tiled walls and ceiling and Clarke came to a stop, her hands held behind her back as she squared her shoulders.
Ontari stood beside her, the woman a little more at home in the chill of the tunnels from the way she seemed not to shift from foot to foot in discomfort. Gustus stood on the other side of Clarke, her guard's great frame adding to the sense of foreboding Clarke knew many to feel in their journey through the tunnels.
The rest of her guard stood behind her, each one just as violent as the next, each one just as capable at detaching limb from limb or burying blade between ribs as she was in their own ways.
The flickering of the torch continued to come closer, and with each second the light began to bring into view figures moving forward, many still bathed in shadow. The footsteps that should have been heard were even swallowed by the dark of the shadows, the only sound to really give way to another's presence being the quiet creak of leather against leather or fur against fur.
Before too long the light from the flame was close enough to reveal a mass of warriors that spilled down the tunnel far enough that Clarke could not see their end. Her father stood at the forefront of those before her, his face calm, the blue of his eyes piercing in the orange glow of the flames that set his muddied blonde hair aflame.
"Heda," he said quietly as he bowed his head, the mass of warriors behind him quick to show their own respects as they came to a singular halt.
"You were not discovered?" Clarke didn't really think she needed to ask, but she hadn't gone to such great lengths over the years to grow complacent now.
"No, Heda," Jake said.
"Good," she nodded to him before turning to walk the way she had come.
Her father fell into step beside her as Ontari and Gustus and the rest of her guard settled amongst the mass of warriors. Clarke even heard the barely there acknowledgement Ontari sent to the Azgeda warriors she must have recognised and she heard the slightest of greetings Gustus gave to the Trikru that he knew.
"Do your warriors need food?" Clarke asked, voice low and gentle in the dark.
"No, Heda," Jake answered. "We have eaten recently."
"I will have food brought down on your request then."
And with that they fell into quiet silence as they continued to walk back through the tunnels and to Ton DC.
"So let me get this straight," Bellamy said from where he stood by a large camp fire. "There's people already living in Mount Weather, those monsters we stumbled across are called reapers and that fog is a natural phenomenon?"
"I—" Lexa thought back to what she had remembered Carl said. "I guess?" and she looked around at the volunteers gathered the fire. "Yes there are people living in Mount Weather. They're here to help. Those monsters are called reapers and they're sick from radiation, it's done something to them, driven them mad."
"You could say that again," someone said to murmurs of agreement.
"I don't know how or why the acid fog became a thing, but we'll get answers."
"So now what?" Monty asked from where he stood beside Harper and Raven.
"Now we wait," Lexa said and she let her voice carry over the whispers already beginning to filter through the volunteers. "Carl said he needs two days before he can make contact. Until then we need to keep doing what we're doing."
"What about the Ark?"
Lexa looked for who had asked the question but gave up as other voices began voicing their own questions.
"What about the plan?"
"Is there enough space for all of us in Mount Wea—"
"Are the reapers coming ba—"
"What do we do about the aci—"
"Enough!" Lexa let her voice cut into the spiralling noise as she stared down the closest person who looked like they were going to speak. "I don't have all the questions," Lexa said, her gaze drilling into a woman who seemed ready to voice an opinion. "What I do know is that we all volunteered for this mission," she jabbed a finger at one person and then another. "We can't start panicking. That's the opposite of what we should be doing," Lexa began to turn in a slow circle as she looked from face to face that stood around her. "What we can do is continue to gather supplies. Continue to make contact with the Ark when possible. And continue to look out for danger," and she swept her hands out into the forests that surrounded them. "The only thing that's changed is now we know what's out there. Now we know that reapers are a danger and that the acid fog is a possibility."
"We still have a job to do," Bellamy added carefully, his tone clear to her that he was anticipating reprimand for adding his voice to the discussion.
"Bellamy's right," Lexa said as she smiled at him briefly. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy," she smiled a little more openly as she saw some close to her nod in agreement. "We knew there would be challenges. But we've been given a chance. A real chance. People have survived on the ground. That means we can survive on the ground."
Lexa saw Monty nod his head, she saw Raven smile and she saw Harper give her a subtle thumbs up.
"Everyone assigned to finding edible foods still need to be doing their job," Lexa continued. "Everyone assigned to finding animals we can hunt still needs to be doing their job. All our mechanics and engineers need to be fixing and setting up everything they can to make our lives easier. We just need to be on the look out for danger. But we know what that danger is now, we can anticipate it. We can prepare for it."
As Lexa continued to turn in a slow circle, as she continued to press their need to remain focused and not to either panic or celebrate the recent revelations, she saw the scepticism beginning to dissipate and be replaced by a confidence and determination. And though her words were full of bravado and confidence, she knew their task not to be easy, perhaps it had become even more dangerous, if only because she had done the maths, she had done the calculations, however rough in her mind.
If Mount Weather had survived in any way small way that resembled how the Ark had survived, the balance of supplies was closely monitored. And Lexa was sure the arrival of thousands more people would throw each system completely out of sync.
But she wouldn't mention that.
Not yet.
It was late afternoon and Lexa sat by another small fire someone had lit earlier. The campsite around the drop ship had been busier than it had been days earlier. There was an energy that flowed from person to person since the revelation, and that energy had spurred on their actions.
Lexa wouldn't and couldn't complain at that, but perhaps secretly she could regret the turn of events. If only because she had somehow seemingly become the de facto leader of all one hundred volunteers. People had been coming to her with questions, uncertainties of what best to do. Some other team leaders had even come to her to ask permission to leave for their routine patrols, albeit more heavily armed now that they knew the reapers existed.
Lexa had taken everything in stride though. Partly because she had been responsible for people on the Ark, too. Perhaps that was why she had volunteered — to help calm the panic she had known could erupt and to ensure the volunteers had a steady hand to guide them. She also knew that if things went south that she would be blamed, but she was no stranger to that, either. And so, as another person came to her with a question Lexa took it in stride.
"I thought we lost you," Bellamy said quietly as he came to sit beside her, the man's gaze a little guarded as he took in what she assumed to be the singed tips of her hair. "We all thought we lost you," and he gestured to Monty, Harper and Raven who sat nearby, their team in the midst of a break.
"Same," Lexa said with a lopsided smile.
"So they've been living underground for a hundred years?" Raven asked a pulled apart radio in her hands.
"I think so," Lexa said.
"Why haven't they settled above ground?" this time it was Harper's turn to voice a question, the woman clearly intrigued.
"It's something about the radiation," Lexa said as she recalled the syringe Carl had injected himself with.
"The radiation that turned those things into reapers?" Harper asked.
"Yeah," and Lexa found herself wondering why she and all the others weren't affected. "The people in Mount Weather have some kind of injection that helps counteract the radiation."
"I see," and Lexa turned to Raven to find the woman looking up into the purpling sky in thought. "When we're up there," she said. "We're exposed to higher dosses of radiation compared to on the ground," and she shrugged. "I can't spacewalk over a certain number of hours a year before I get exposed to too much."
"That makes sense," Bellamy added with an uncertain smile.
"What do you think, Monty?" Harper asked and Lexa found the woman looking at Monty with a small smile on her lips.
"It all makes sense, I guess?" Monty said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You guess?" Lexa asked, perhaps now a little more intrigued by Monty's until now guarded opinion.
"Why didn't they make contact sooner?" Monty asked. "We've been here days. They could have helped us, made things easier for everyone."
"Maybe they didn't trust us, Monty," Harper said as she nudged his shoulder with her own. "Would you trust some random people who fell from the sky if you were in their shoes?"
"I just—" he trailed off and sighed before running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. "Do you think they have showers?"
Lexa chuckled quietly at that as she turned her attention to the small piece of overly burnt root that had been roasted over the fire. She didn't blame Monty for being cautious though, even she tried not to get her hopes up, if only because she didn't know what she'd do if things turned out for the worse.
That same prickling on the back of her neck made her turn outwards and to the trees that dotted the campsite, whose presence had been pushed back by the hastily erected walls of sharpened branches and large containers set around the camp's edges.
For yet another countless time that day Lexa wondered if she was going crazy or if she was actually sensing the presence of something in the shadows. But before too long the presence seemed to fade and Lexa was left wondering if she had simply imagined it in the first place.
Clarke sat in the shadows as she slowly danced a knife between her fingers. The warriors who had arrived earlier in the day remained deep underground and out of sight of the Mountain until they were called. It left a sour and bitter taste upon her tongue at the fact that Clarke was using the other warriors she would soon call upon as bait for the Mountain. She had even wondered how far it would strain her allegiance with Nia if the Azgeda warriors, who were much easier to spot in the forests, were taken out by a single act of violence by the Mountain. But it was a calculation she knew was necessary.
And so Clarke would ensure all warriors were as concealed as possible, and she would pray that the Mountain didn't uncover their presence before it was too late. But if the Mountain was to discover the build up of warriors, then those underground would be her contingency.
Around her were others closest to her. Ontari, ever present by her side, Gustus by the door and Maya in the shadows. Her father sat opposite her, a table with a map between them and Costia and Indra by his side.
Clarke watched as her father studied the map. She watched as his gaze moved from model to model across the surface that indicated warrior movements and presences. She even saw his eyes narrow just a fraction as he took in the Azgeda movements and their placement closest to the Mountain, and she knew he must have realised her plan and understood the gamble she was playing with their lives. But she saw him dismiss whatever thoughts had filled his mind as he directed his attention to the markings of the recent reaper sightings, and to the places where acid fog had been spotted.
"You are sure?" Jake asked then, and Clarke found her gaze moving to Indra to see what the village chief's reaction would be.
"Yes, Jake," Costia answered with no less conviction than when she had given the report and Clarke saw Indra's lips twitch ever so slightly in approval.
Clarke preferred letting those whose opinions she valued carry discussion if they pleased. It gave her time to consider her own thoughts, to take in different courses of action and to consider things she would not normally consider if she were to take charge too early. And so she remained quiet as Jake reached out and took hold of a small wooden model of what had held the people of the sky.
It had been skilfully whittled by a sharp knife and a sure hand, and Clarke was under no impressions that the model's shape and detail had been exaggerated. She knew Trikru scouts were never one to take liberties in what they saw, and she was sure Indra's scouts to be ever more ruthlessly loyal to the truth that their eyes could see.
"We should kill them before they join the Mountain's forces," Ontari said into the silence, the woman's voice just barely lilting between controlled annoyance and eager anticipation.
"I do not believe they knew of the Mountain before they arrive," Costia countered.
"That does not matter," Ontari said. "You tell us they have made contact. You tell us they are preparing to bring more reinforcements from the sky. You tell us they plan to regroup in two days time. What more evidence do you need that their goals are allied?"
"If we are to attack it must be with as few warriors as possible," Jake said, his voice kind despite the iron in his eyes as he looked up from the map to Ontari. "If we send too few warriors then it could end in defeat. If we send too many the Mountain will know we plan their defeat."
Ontari paused for a moment in thought, "I agree," she said eventually. "I will lead warriors in a night raid," and she nodded to herself. "We will have the element of surprise. Our numbers will be harder to discern and we will destroy everything."
"That would be the best course of action if we are to attack," Indra said, the woman's voice steady and quiet.
"I do not advise it, Heda," Gustus said simply, the man's gaze looking at the map. "The Mountain would seek retribution and attack. There would be a chance that our forces in the tunnels are discovered."
Clarke let her gaze move to Gustus for a moment before she looked back to her father to find him meeting her gaze with guarded thought. All she had heard had merit, some perhaps more than others. But Clarke's gaze moved to Maya who had kept quiet during the whole conversation.
"Maya," Clarke said, her voice sharp as it broke the silence.
"Heda?" Maya answered.
"What do you think your people will do with these newcomers from the sky?"
Maya looked to the map upon the table and Clarke watched as thoughts shifted behind the woman's eyes, and at times Clarke saw flashes of worry, she saw flashes of anger, of regret and any number of other emotions she didn't blame the woman for feeling.
But when Maya looked back at her, Clarke saw nothing but conviction and belief.
"They will use these new people just as they use yours."
Clarke nodded her head, the answer as simple as she had expected, the course of action already forming within her mind as the things that were said began settling into place.
"Costia," Clarke said and she stood, her need to set up a camp away from Ton DC already becoming clear in her mind. "You say there is a woman who leads these people?"
"Yes, Heda," Costia answered. "I have watched her. She leads a scouting party when they go beyond their camp. Others look to her for guidance and direction."
"You will be part of Ontari's raid," Clarke said, Ontari's vicious grin catching her sight from the corner of her eye. "Cause whatever distraction you must but—" Clarke turned to face Ontari, gaze hard, "do not kill anyone unless you must," Clarke would laugh at another time as Ontari's face fell with disappointment. "Attack at dawn when their guard is lowest. Capture this leader and bring her to me."