Stardust sparkled in the sunlight that crested over the curve of the Earth. Anya stood at the single window in her quarters as she looked down onto the Earth far below. Clouds danced ever so slowly in the see of dark. Fires burned upon the land far to the west, their glow enough to cut through the dark and to dance with a brilliance that drew both wonder and fear within her heart.

Her thoughts raged through her mind and she couldn't understand, couldn't comprehend, couldn't even begin to organise the chaos into order. Lexa had radioed and the words she had said were mind numbing, they were a bittersweet realisation and something Anya could never fathom.

People had lived on the Earth since the bombs fell, they had suffered, adapted and survived the ravaged lands, the turmoil and the uncertainties. Anya thought of all the lost time, all the people who had lived their entire lives in space looking down upon what they had believed to be an uninhabited world. She thought of all those people who lived down in Mount Weather, who perhaps had looked up into the stars only to long for an escape, for a chance to rebuild, to reconnect with a past that was long since gone.

But Anya also thought of the monsters, reapers, the mutated beasts that had once ben man, woman and child, but were now nothing more than radiation sickened shadows of what they once were. And that made Anya shiver, that made her grimace and wish so very deeply that they had realised sooner. If only because she was sure they could have helped.

It was too late now, too late for those who had succumbed to the radiation, too late for those that had been floated, who had lived and died in space, and it was too late to regret. And so Anya let her uncertainties keep control for only a short second longer before she smothered them, forced them back into the recesses of her mind and lock them so many walls that she would never question her actions again.

Anya took in a deep breath, she held it for a while as her mind settled and then she stepped back from the window and turned to the centre of her quarters. Everything not bolted to the metal plating underfoot was packed into crates, and each one of them was strapped down, tied to anything immobile. All her personal belongings were organised into a single small crate, Lexa's she had packed into their own, too.

They wouldn't be heading down immediately, there were still countless things that needed to be organised before the Ark could be sent hurtling to the Earth, but Anya thought it prudent to be more than certain that all her things were in order, if only because she knew they only had one chance at success.

And so, as she pulled on her jacket and headed to the door, she found herself smiling as she wondered what it must be to feel the sun upon her face.

The Ark was a bustle with people who moved about with renewed vigour and enthusiasm. Word of the survivors in Mount Weather had spread so fast that rumours had began to form, theories and hopes all before anything concrete could really be known.

But there was a plan, there was a course of action that was to be done and Anya knew she would do all she could to ensure her people would make it to the ground in one piece.

She passed a man, arms full of supplies as he ran by, she passed two women, both in hurried conversation as one of them tapped away at the glowing tablet in her hands. Anya passed person after person as she continued down the long halls of the Ark but she tried to ignore the words, the whispers and the prayers simply because she didn't want to get too far ahead of herself.

In the back of her mind she couldn't help but to wonder how things would work out with such an increase in people. Part of her didn't think it would be too bad though, for there was room enough on the Earth's surface for her people to make a home for themselves without encroaching on those living in Mount Weather. She knew enough to know that Mount Weather would be existing on a razor's edge, where one bad day, one miscalculated resource could snowball into something that could throw the entire civilisation out of order.

And wasn't that what had happened on the Ark? Wasn't that why Lexa in all her foolish confidence had volunteered to be sent down?

Anya would need to ensure her people offered something for those in Mount Weather, she'd need to ensure her people could show them that they wouldn't be a drain on their resources. She knew her people wouldn't survive long without guidance and help, not when bands of those terrible reapers roamed the lands, not when the acid fog seemed to eat everything it touched, and not when even the gravity of the Ark seemed too light compared to Earth's gravity.

There were so many things, so many uncertainties, so many unknowns that would need to learnt sooner than later, and part of her hated that it all depended on the goodwill of people she hardly knew.

But perhaps the only saving grace, the only ace up her people's sleeve, was the simple fact that they could seemingly survive on the Earth's surface when those in Mount Weather couldn't.

And that, she thought, she hoped and she prayed, was enough to make her people useful for those trapped beneath the ground.

It was well into the night. What little of the sky that could be seen through the trees was pitch black with barely a star to be seen. Despite her own insistence that everyone move in pairs when venturing past their camp's hastily erected walls, and despite the very real danger, there were some things Lexa absolutely refused to do in the company of answers. And so she stood, steadied herself against the tree and pulled her pants up and cast one last furtive glance around.

She held a rifle in her hands, the weapon at times feeling more like a lucky charm than tool. Thankfully there had been no other confirmed sightings of reapers. A scouting party had reported seeing a pair or two, but many had assumed the sighting to be nothing more than a wild animal glimpsed through the thick foliage of the forest, but still, it never hurt to be too careful. But perhaps Lexa was a hypocrite in that aspect.

The walk back to the camp was quiet, not far, and well within shouting distance should she actually run into any danger. Earth's gravity had seemed to settle for her in recent days though, the extra weight barely noticeable except for the ache in her muscles that had slowly lessened with each passing day and though her thoughts remained scrambled with uncertainties, she hoped her tired body would force her mind to sleep, if only so that she could remain sharp come Carl's arrival in the morning.

And so Lexa sighed, she looked out into the forest and tried to shake that seemingly ever constant feeling that she was being watched, and she resigned herself to the fate that perhaps that feeling would never go away.

Though Lexa's body was tired her mind seemed unable to rest. Her body's fatigue had clearly decided not to wrestle her mind into submission and so she had found herself considering every single possibility that could unfold but still, she didn't know which one she thought best for her people. She had considered what could happen if Mount Weather was unable to provide for all those living in the Ark. She had considered what it would take to set up a permanent camp in the open, close enough to Mount Weather for either group to help the other. She had even wondered what would happen if those reapers or the acid fog swallowed them whole, if either of those nightmares decided tho end them once and for all.

She even considered the possibility that their two peoples had grown apart in the hundred years since Earth had been ravaged. What would happen? What could happen? She didn't know.

Though no chatter could be heard, and hardly a footstep broke the silence of the night, she thought many in the camp thinking the exact same thing for there were telltale sounds that people couldn't sleep. At times she heard a cough, a deep sigh or even the sounds of someone rolling over restlessly as they waited for the morning. She didn't blame anyone though, not when every single fear and concern that had been raised to her was something she had considered herself.

But Lexa was tired, she was exhausted, even her mind seemed to be growing slower and slower with each passing moment and so she found her breaths subconsciously evening out, she found them deepening, and before too long she found herself drifting off to what she knew would be an unsettled sleep aided by the sounds of metal slowly clicking against metal in the distance.

Lexa's eyes snapped open, her body startled and she found a blackness engulfing her vision. She blinked once, twice, three times before her vision began to adjust to the pale grey of a too cold and too early morning.

It was cold despite what she thought to be the flickering of a fire that she could see through the fabric of her tent. No one else really seemed to be awake though for there were no voices she could hear. Thoughts of retreating back to sleep crossed her mind, but the responsible part of Lexa told her she should sit, should wake and not fall back to sleep.

She took in a steadying breath as her vision settled onto the dancing shadow of something overhead that she could just make out through the tent's fabric. But before too long she found herself more aware of her surroundings and so she sat up and let the makeshift covers fall to her waist as she stretched and groaned.

A yawn escaped past Lexa's lips and her eyes followed the shadow of someone moving past her tent, their footsteps purposefully silent and their body hunched over low, and Lexa couldn't help but to smile at whoever it was that walked past in the clear attempt to not wake any others in the early morning.

Lexa rose to her feet, her back stooped so that her head didn't hit the top of her tent and she began to dress for the day. Getting ready in the morning was a chore, it was a routine that had come painfully in the few days they had spent on the ground and it had taken her only a few days before she came to miss the creature comforts she had taken for granted on the Ark. Perhaps the one thing she looked forward to the most was bathing. Or at least bathing properly, if only because she thought pouring freezing water out of buckets and over her body to be quite unsatisfactory. But she knew the freezing sting of water to be much more preferable than braving the river and the beast that had attacked earlier.

And so Lexa found herself dressed, a dirty yet thick and welcomed dark grey jacket the single thing to really keep the cold at bay. Lexa reached for her backpack and her rifle as she pulled back the flap to her tent and stepped outside.

The first thing Lexa saw was that the day was perhaps much earlier than she had anticipated. The sky was still more black than light grey and even stars still sparkled in the sky overhead. But the one thing that really jumped out to her was that the light she had assumed was from an early rising sun was in fact from a fire that at first seemed just to be a large bonfire she assumed organised by a too cold guard.

But then her eyes widened, her mouth slackened and she cursed.

As if she was still asleep, or as if in slow motion her mind began to piece things together. That bonfire, that welcomed light and cherished heat was in fact a burning tent. Flames licked at the material, it blackened fabric and metal and plastics and then Lexa heard the roar. Wind seemed to pick up at that very moment and set the flame free. The roar of the flame being fuelled by the wind reached her ears, the light almost dazzled her eyes as the flames grew and grew and grew in size and then she heard it.

Someone must have smelt the burning, someone must have come to investigate the light and someone must have yelled, screamed, shouted a warning that broke the silence.

All hell broke loose, people just moments ago asleep bound out of their tents, some half dressed, some fully and others so very underdressed that at any other time it would be comical.

And then Lexa moved.

Fires had always been dealt with as swiftly and as seriously as possible on the Ark for a single fire could have had the most extreme of consequences.

And so Lexa's voice joined with the cries, the shouts of warning and the orders being yelled by those already aware of the problem and by those already moving to act. People began running back and forth. People began running to their makeshift showers and their closest source of water. People began running towards the burning tent in the hopes of saving anyone who might have been trapped.

And Lexa moved, she ran, she didn't quite know what she was doing but she shouted out something at Raven who ran the opposite way, the woman's shirt inside-out and decidedly back to front. Lexa barked out something at Monty who ran by with Harper, and she shouted at Bellamy who she saw running out of the drop-ship, hits pants half pulled up and his hair sleep tussled.

And Lexa ran. Another team leader shouted out a team count at her, and she could at least be satisfied knowing that Gamma's team were all accounted for, and as she ducked under drying clothes she saw Epsilon's team organising themselves and counting off as they carried bucket of water after bucket of water to the raging tent in the hopes they could kill the fire before it spread to any other tents.

And then Lexa darted past one last tent and she skidded to a halt at the buckets of mud and sand and soil that had been collected to study their suitability for farming. She'd apologise to Monty after the fire was dealt with and so Lexa reached down, hefted the closest bucket of soil that she thought suitable for putting out fire and she turned.

But Lexa's blood froze, her heart slammed in her chest and for the second time her eyes widened and her lips slackened.

Of all the things Lexa could have seen, from a naked couple caught mid act, to a reaper or even a mutated animal, what now stood before Lexa was chilling and very much none of those things.

Lexa couldn't comprehend, she couldn't understand, she couldn't even believe.

A woman stood before her. She was young and her face still held the barest hints of youth. Upon her face were scars, brutal scars, deep scars that had etched themselves across her skin, that had brutalised her face and made her seem unreal, unknown, foreign and unfamiliar.

Wild braids of dark brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders, metal ornaments were tied through her locks that seemed part ceremonial and part weapon. But as Lexa looked harder, as she looked closer, she realised those ornaments, those trinkets were in fact bone, bleached white and sharpened.

The woman wore clothes that were fur, parts of it so glitteringly white that they almost blinded, and others muted greys, deep blacks and almost browns. And then Lexa's eyes landed on the sword held in her hand, whose edge was so clearly sharpened enough to slice through anything that stood before it that Lexa knew the weapon to be capable of dealing incredible amounts of dama—

And the woman lunged.

Lexa yelped, she dropped the bucket in her hands and she didn't even have enough time to lift her rifle before the wind was knocked from her lungs as she was kicked in the chest and thrown back with enough force that even before she hit the ground she saw stars.

Lexa crashed against the buckets of soil and mud and sand, she hit her head against something sharp and pain exploded across her skull as she tumbled, spilled and crashed to the ground.

The woman was on her faster than Lexa could even think of how to react, a hand reached up and clamped over her mouth and she felt the pressed of the sword against her ribs.

And the next thing Lexa knew was that the woman settled over her chest, face so very close to hers as her lips parted in a smile to reveal teeth so white they seemed to glow in the dark.

"Do not make a sound," the woman hissed, her voice soft, higher pitched than she would have expected but there was no kindness in her words, no humour, no mirth, and if Lexa's mind hadn't been so whiplashed she would have realised the woman spoke english, the woman seemed fully capable of understanding and threatening and of using the sword in her hands.

But despite the fact that her brain didn't quite know how to act in the moment, despite the fact that her body had seemed to lose all function, Lexa wouldn't go give up without a fight.

And so, perhaps subconsciously, Lexa began to struggle, she began to wrestle out from under the woman. Lexa managed to slam her head forward enough that the woman needed to lean back lest their faces connect and that was all Lexa needed. She scrambled, bucked and managed to plant one foot onto the ground with enough stability to leverage herself to the side and throw the woman aside.

Lexa scrambled then, and it was a mess of hands, of feet and limbs and furs and any number of other things that did nothing but get in her way. As Lexa came to her feet, as she turned to face the woman and prepared to yell she saw a shadow fall onto the forest floor before her.

Lexa's eyes widened when she saw another woman, this one with darker complexion and hair so curly and tied back it seemed as wild as the beasts and reapers that roamed the lands. This woman's face was void of scars and instead Lexa was sure she could spy the hints of a tattoo that snaked up the woman's neck.

But Lexa didn't have much time to think for her legs were kicked out from under her and she crashed to the ground with a thud.

"Bring her," the first woman hissed and Lexa grimaced as she felt strong hands grab her by the back of the neck as something thick, salty and coarse was thrust past her lips.

It took her a second to realise a gag had been forced into her mouth, and it took her another second to realise her arms were already being tied behind her back before her brain managed to catch up to the events that were happening.

There were so many realisations flooding Lexa's mind at that very moment that she didn't even register the fact that she had been lifted to her feet and was being marched away. But the one thing that broke her confusion, the one thing that snapped her out of whatever dumbfounded stupor she found herself in was the distinct sound of someone saying what the fuck.

Lexa was turned to the direction of the voice by the woman who had first attacked her and her gaze fell to Bellamy who stood with an empty bucket in one hand, and a soaking wet towel in the other.

Bellamy's eyes were wide, his lips slackened and Lexa hoped more than she should given the circumstances, that she hadn't looked just as stupid as Bellamy did in that moment.

Bellamy actually dropped the empty bucket in his hands and seemed to pinch the skin on his wrist in an attempt to wake himself from whatever dumb dream he seemed to believe himself in.

But the moment's calm was ended as abruptly as could be imagined.

The woman shoved Lexa back and she fought for balance before the second woman's hands gripped her tightly. Lexa's gaze tracked the woman's movements as she darted forward, as she lunged and slammed into Bellamy and took out his legs with a thunderously loud kick to the thighs that flung his legs out from under him. Bellamy gasped in pain as he crashed to the ground only to be kicked in the ribs with yet another sickening thump.

Bellamy wheezed, he gasped, he spluttered as his hands came to cradle his ribs. Lexa tried struggling then, she tried fighting back, she tried doing something for that same woman levelled her sword at the now hapless Bellamy, the weapon's point glinting in what little light there was in the too early morning.

Lexa tried yelling for help, she tried doing something to make more noise but the gag in her mouth muffled it enough that whatever sounds she was able to make couldn't be heard over the shouts from those fighting the fire.

"Stop," the woman who held her back said quietly, but her voice was sharp and clear as she pulled Lexa back and towards the shadows of the forest.

"He has seen us," the first woman said as she kicked Bellamy onto his back and placed the edge of her sword against his throat as his hands came up in what was somewhere between helpless and pathetic surrender.

"No one is to die if we can avoid it," the second woman said as she continued pulling Lexa back with more strength than what Lexa would have ever guessed such a slight woman capable of possessing. "Bring him."

And so the first woman turned back to Bellamy, sheathed her sword and then punched him hard across the face, the blow hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Lexa was afraid. She was petrified, uncertain and completely out of her depth. Lexa still couldn't grasp the fact that there were a third people on the ground. She couldn't quite understand why and how and what was going on. All she knew was that she had been taken prisoner, that Bellamy in all his foolish bravado had somehow managed to rope himself into whatever situation she found herself in, and that whoever marched her through the forests was more than capable of removing her head from her body without much worry.

The fact that they seemed capable of speaking English wasn't lost on her, nor was the fact that at times they switched into some unknown language that sounded almost familiar if she listened hard enough.

One of the women pulled hard on the rope holding her wrists tied behind her back and Lexa grimaced at the strain in her muscles but the next sounds that followed weren't a surprise to her. Bellamy seemed to grunt, exert himself and clearly try to attack blindly, or do something foolish. And for yet another time Lexa heard him wince, groan and stumble to the ground as the first woman laughed and said something Lexa was sure was colourful in insult.

But Lexa couldn't do much more than resign herself to the fact that she would have to listen to whatever beatings Bellamy brought upon himself with each moment's resistance.

Despite everything though, Lexa found herself worrying for the rest of the volunteers who had been fighting the fire, to those who must have been taken by surprise and she hoped that no one had been injured and that no one had been trapped by the raging heat.

Part of her began to realise that the fire was deliberate though, and as that thought began to settle into her mind she realised that her capture was deliberate, too, and not just that she was the easiest target out of many.

She began thinking back to all those times she had felt as though someone was watching her, she began to think back to all the times she had felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she even realised that the attack and her capture had occurred right before she was to meet with Carl and whoever else from Mount Weather would have braved the trip.

There were too many questions though, too many unknowns, too many things she couldn't comprehend, and too many things for her tired mind to organise.

Lexa stumbled, she tripped and she didn't know if it was her mind's turmoil, if it was the fact she couldn't see, or if it was the fact that her body ached so terribly, that caused her to fall. But fall she did and she groaned, grimaced and fell to her knees only to be lifted to her feet roughly and with little care.

And so Lexa found herself fighting the hopeless feeling swelling in the pit of her stomach at the realisation that her people were so very far out of their depth on Earth's surface.

Lexa's feet ached, her legs felt heavy, her arms liquid and weak. Sweat dripped from her brow and she cursed as she tripped over something she couldn't see, as she stumbled and tried to find her feet.

"Get up."

The woman's voice came from somewhere behind her and she felt the press of that same knife edge between her shoulder blades and she recognised the threat for what it was. Bellamy must have stumbled beside her too, for she heard him groan, she heard him curse and splutter past the gag forced into his mouth.

"Move."

Again the woman behind pushed her forward with the knife, and not for the first time Lexa resented the fact that she couldn't see where she walked.

"Stop."

The woman pulled her back with a sharp tug of the rope binding her hands behind her back.

"Try it," and this time Lexa was sure the woman spoke to Bellamy. "I would enjoy beating you again," and Lexa couldn't help but to recoil from the lightness in the woman's voice, in the pleasure she seemed to get from causing pain, from inflicting wounds and suffering.

But Bellamy must have submitted, must have backed down from whatever foolish endeavour he had thought of for she heard a chuckle, a laugh, something light, something disappointed.

"Perhaps next time."

Fabrics, furs and leathers rustled in front of Lexa, and from the sound, from the breeze of air she felt across her cheeks, she thought they must have arrived at their final destination.

"Ontari," a new voice said, this one male, deep, more rumbled growl than spoken word.

"Gustus," the woman behind her answered.

"These are the prisoners?"

"Yes."

"Heda is waiting."

Lexa didn't quite know who or what Heda was, all she knew was that they were important and that her heart began to beat more furiously in her chest, that her palms were sweating and that her skin felt clammy. She was sure that now, as she was ushered into what she thought to be a tent, that she had chosen wrong, that she had made the wrong decision, had done nothing but bring her death closer than it had been just days earlier. But Lexa stamped down those fears as quickly as they formed, if only because there was no turning back.

And so she squared her shoulders, ironed her resolve and promised herself not to regret whatever was to come next.

There was commotion though, something quick, rough and violent. Bellamy grunted and gasped out behind her, she heard the distinct thunk of something hard hitting flesh and then she felt Bellamy fall to the ground beside her as that woman — Ontari — laughed.

"Enough."

Another woman's voice cut into whatever commotion echoed out around her, it seemed to silence the noise, the wind, the rustle of air and cloth and weapon and armour. Lexa felt herself pushed forward again, she felt Bellamy's presence beside her and then a hand gripped her shoulder, squeezed and Lexa fell to the ground with a grunt of pain as her legs were kicked out from underneath.

"Heda," Ontari said, and Lexa heard deference in the woman's voice, she heard supplication and submission.

"This is the one who leads them?" the voice asked, and it came quiet, careful, slightly deeper than expected, terribly rich with a rasp and a careful timber that made Lexa's skin crawl.

"This one is, Heda," Ontari answered.

"And the man?" the question came out full of derision and Lexa felt Bellamy bristle, she felt him tense, and if she hadn't been in such a perilous situation, if she didn't think even making noise would end in her head being removed, she would try to tell him to calm down, to relax, to stop doing whatever it was that had caused him to be struck, pushed and hit.

"He refused to allow her to come alone," Ontari answered. "Even after I encouraged him to behave."

"I see," and the voice seemed to come out more intrigued. "Remove the blindfolds."

And so Lexa found herself wondering what this woman — what Heda — must have looked like. Lexa wondered if she was as tattooed and as scarred as all her warriors seemed to be, if she was old, young, or somewhere between.

But of all the things Lexa thought she would see, it wasn't what greeted her.

The blindfold was pulled from her face with little care or worry for her comfort, and Lexa winced through the gag as her hair was pulled with the motion. Light from the many candles and flames she saw flickering about inside the tent blinded her, and she couldn't help but to wonder if their presence and intensity was purposeful.

She saw a silhouette next, and it was something ferocious, something unfamiliar and all together terrifying.

As Lexa's vision cleared she saw that a woman sat atop a chair, a throne of twisted wood, of spears and weapons that seemed to all bend and wind and twist together into a nest of crazed disorder. A coat of thick leathers and armoured plating draped her body. A red sash, colour as vibrant and dazzling as the sun swept down from her left shoulder and to her feet before it pooled upon the ground.

The woman's hair was blonde, molten gold at times in the firelight. Her eyes were a piercing blue that was framed by black paint that writhed across her eyes, that dripped down her cheeks as if a shadow had sheared away her flesh.

But despite all those things, what stole Lexa's breath the most, what made her recoil, made her flinch and gasp, was the distinct grey-paleness and lack of colour to her skin. Where one would expect to see the hints of red, of pink beneath proud cheeks, Lexa saw nothing but grey, and if she looked just a little harder she thought she could see the black of veins that etched their path under the woman's skin. Even her lips were void of what could and should have been expected.

The woman leant forward in her throne and the grey of her lips parted just barely as she took in a deep breath to reveal teeth that almost seemed to glow in the candle light, and for only the briefest of moments Lexa was sure she spied the dark of her gums before her gaze snapped back to the woman's eyes. The woman smiled then, but the expression seemed void of kindness, it seemed void of warmth, void of depth.

Void of life.