"What the fuck do you mean missing?" Anya hissed into the mouthpiece.

There was a blubbering mess of static that echoed out around the command centre and it was all Anya could do to not reach through the radio with whatever magical powers she would will into existence in that very moment to wrangle life from the idiot currently speaking to her.

There was a scuffle as someone seemed to reach for the radio, there were cussed words and something that sounded distinctly like a slap before the sound of someone else taking in a deep breath to compose themselves before speaking.

"Hi," the voice said, and this one was female, tinged with hints of fatigue but coloured with a sharpness that seemed to at least sound smarter than the first speaker. "We've got a problem."

"I gathered," Anya said as she brought her fist up to her forehead in an attempt to kill the headache she already felt forming. "What happened?"

"We were attacked," the woman answered.

"By who? Those reapers?"

"Yeah," the reply came.

Anya turned to look at Kane who studied the map displayed on the main command table in front of them, his brows furrowed, the barest hints of sweat beading at his temples as his eyes moved from image to image in front of him.

"Raven," Kane said. "You're sure it was reapers?"

"One hundred percent," the woman — Raven — answered. "We met with Carl. Others from Mount Weather. We think these reapers got wind of our meeting and tried to stop it. We think Lexa and Bellamy must have noticed something and were taken."

"Where?" Anya cut in.

"We're looking," Raven answered. "We have scouting parties out with some from Mount Weather's security detail."

Jackson leant close to Anya's ear before whispering, "no bodies, Anya. They could still be alive."

At least that was something, and so Anya tried to fight back the anger that seemed to be bubbling just under the surface.

"Now I don't want to sound too pushy," Raven continued. "But we could definitely use you guys down here."

"We're working on it, Raven," Sinclair said from the other side of the table. "We're three Earth rotations out before our orbit will align enough for us to get everyone down."

"Great," Raven said, and from her tone Anya could tell Raven was smiling. "Look, Carl's been real helpful. We'll hold the camp secure, if anything it'll be good to have an outpost to give us eyes and ears of the surrounding forests. But we're blind out here."

"We understand, Raven," Kane said and Anya glanced up at the man to see his arms folding across his chest and a frown even more firmly etched across his face.

"And we're still searching for Lexa and Bellamy," Raven continued. "But it doesn't sound good," and Anya bristled at that. "Everything we know about these reapers means they don't take prisoners. Or at least not for long."

"Understood," Kane said.

And so discussion began to turn to logistics, to how many people would need to stay at the camp at any given time to keep it secure, to how food sources were being cared for, and any other number of things Anya tuned out.

But Anya had heard enough, partly because she didn't quite care for much more than ensuring Lexa was found quite literally in one piece, and in part because her headache seemed to be coming on with more intensity with each passing second. She looked pointedly at Kane and thanked whatever deity she could think of as he read her silent request before nodding his head towards the exit.

Anya stepped away from the table, tucked her hands in her pockets and didn't care that the scowl upon her face was still firmly plastered across her features as she let the command centre's doors slide open for her.

Nothing was wrong with the ventilation system in the command centre, but for some reason the air Anya breathed in felt more fresh and less stuffy. Perhaps it was placebo, perhaps it was actually the Ark slowly dying, but whatever it was Anya knew it wouldn't be a problem for much long—

"Hey?"

Anya startled as her thoughts were interrupted. She looked to her left to find a young woman standing sheepishly aside, both hands stuffed into her pockets, and her lip worried between her teeth.

"Can I help you?" Anya said, but recognition dawned on her as soon as the woman pushed off from the wall she had been leaning against.

"My name's Octavia," the woman said, but Anya had already gathered that. "I—" Octavia seemed to pause as if unsure of how to broach the subject, or perhaps to gather whatever courage she could.

But as Anya took in the younger woman, she found herself feeling just a little sympathy for the woman who had effectively become persona non grata through no action of her own.

"Yes," Anya said simply. "And no."

"Yes?" Octavia's eyes turned puzzled. "No?"

"Yes the rumours are true. Your brother—" Anya found the word just a little odd upon her tongue, "is missing. No, we haven't found him yet."

Octavia's eyes closed as if Anya's words had settled whatever worries had formed in her mind and for just the briefest of moments Anya wondered if that was what she had looked like in the command centre, if only because she recognised that Octavia clung to as much fruitless hope for her brother's safety as she did Lexa's.

It was foolish, Anya thought, to take this woman under her wing, it was foolish to even talk to her, if only because there were so many on the Ark who she knew still secretly thought Octavia's existence an affront to their very society. But no one should blame Octavia for simply being born.

And so Anya knew she would probably regret whatever it was she was next to do.

"Come with me, Octavia."

Clarke walked the long tunnels underground, her mind elsewhere, her shadows long. The barely audible sounds of murmurings could soon be heard as they bounced off tunnel wall after tunnel wall and she knew she was close to bumping into the first of her army hidden underground.

Gustus walked behind her, the beast of a man always unnervingly quiet with each step he took. But a shadow falling across her path broke her from her thoughts and she looked up to find her father standing in front of her.

"The prisoner is secure, Heda," he said, his voice quiet as he bowed his head slightly.

"Good," and Clarke nodded to the other warriors who stood nearby, their bodies illuminated by the glow of torches burning brightly. "Walk with me."

Clarke began reorganising her thoughts, she began thinking over every detail she knew and she catalogued problem solved and problem still to be dealt with into their own little corners of her mind. Before too long Clarke ducked into an empty room and Gustus took place at the door as her father stepped inside before closing the door.

"Has he spoken?" Clarke asked.

"No," Jake replied as he took a seat in an old wooden chair. "We have not begun beating him yet."

"Do not beat him just yet," Clarke said, and she found her voice seemed weary for some reason.

Jake bowed his head before curiosity took hold in his gaze.

"And the leader?"

"She knows more," Clarke answered. "She will be the one to talk of the two."

"What of the Mountain Men?" Jake asked. "Reapers?"

"Ryder is hunting the pack we saw earlier," Clarke answered. "If they request help you may send reinforcements," and Clarke took a moment to consider the risk of too many warriors stalking the forests. "But only when it is dark."

"I understand," Jake replied with his own weary smile.

"You grow restless, father," Clarke said then, and she watched from where she leant against the wall to find her father stifle a yawn before rollings his shoulders.

"Hiding underground is an unfamiliar beast," he answered. "Many warriors understand why, yet they are eager for a fight," Clarke didn't blame any of them for that, but she wouldn't risk losing everything before the war even begun.

"What of your warriors rotated outside?" she asked.

"Happy for fresh air," he said. "Understanding of their duty to return underground."

Clarke smiled then, if only because her father always seemed to find the most political of words to describe things she would find insulting coming from any other.

"I will have Indra prepare a feast for your warriors," Clarke said as she pushed off from the wall and stepped towards her father.

"And my warriors will eat it."

Jake stood too, whatever weariness he had felt pushed aside as whatever levity they had shared shifted into seriousness as Clarke walked to the door.

"This woman," Clarke began. "She cares for her people."

"She is their leader," Jake replied. "She would be a poor leader if she did not."

"We will use that to our advantage," Clarke said as she stepped out of the room and nodded to Gustus who fell into step beside her. "Do not harm the man. But we will use that threat to gain her compliance."

"And if she does not comply?" Jake asked.

"She will," Clarke said, and she didn't know why she felt so strongly. "But if she does not we will capture more of her people," and Clarke nodded to a pair of scouts she saw walking to the nearest exit, their faces painted in the darks of Trikru colours, and their bodies laden with weapon should they come face to face with reaper or mountain man alike, "I do not think they are the same as the Mountain Men."

"But you think they are allied with them?" Jake asked.

Clarke took a moment to consider her father's question before she shook her head just once.

"Not yet," Clarke said eventually. "And we must stop that from happening, either through this leader, or through their destruction."

And so Clarke stifled a yawn and she continued walking, but in the back of her mind she found herself thinking that a bath would do her good.

Lexa couldn't exactly pinpoint when fear turned into frustration, but she thought it sometime after she had stumbled on a piece of stone for yet another time. She had lost count of the number of times her foot had hit some unseen piece of metal, or had slipped on loose rock. She had lost count of how many times she had come to a crossroads only to be forced to guess which way to turn as Ontari seemed all too happy to walk behind her and watch as she helplessly stumbled through the dark.

Lexa had even considered how much trouble she'd get into if she turned and lashed out at the woman. She imagined the satisfaction of her fist connecting with Ontari's chin, or her hands wrapping around her throat and wringing the life out of her.

But truthfully, Lexa understood she would fare little better than a mouse taking on a cat. But it would be nice. It would be satisfying. It would be so very welc—

She tripped, she stumbled and she cursed and spluttered out obscenity and anger. A laugh echoed out around her and Lexa glowered, she glared and her anger took hold as she pushed herself up to her feet and spun around to face Ontari.

If Lexa's hands weren't still tied together she would have them fisted in front of her ready to fight, to lash, to break Ontari's perfect little nose.

Ontari smiled something victorious and Lexa's eyes drifted down as Ontari's free hand moved down to the visible knife tucked into her belt.

"Try it," Ontari said, her tone sickly sweet as she bared her teeth and let the flame of the torch cast gruesome shadows across the scars etched into her face.

Lexa fought for control of her breathing as she steadied herself and tried not to let emotion take hold. She was under no assumption that fighting Ontari would be a good idea. She knew anyone able to command the beasts would be unable to defend themselves, and she was under no false assumptions that anyone who willingly put themselves through the painful scarification that adorned her face would be easy to submit to any pain Lexa would be able to inflict.

And so Lexa closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing enough that she could speak without making a fool of herself.

"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked as her eyes opened just in time to see the barest flickers of disappointment wash across the woman's face. "Tell me," and Lexa gestured over her shoulder. "All we've done for what seems like hours is walk in circles," she tried not to let her exasperation fill her tone too much, and she was sure whatever this was, was a game, something intended to break her mind and to make her more pliable to whatever she was sure she was to experience soon.

But Ontari seemed to sigh, perhaps to deflate just a little at whatever seemed to fill her mind for she stepped forward, took hold of Lexa's upper arm and spun her around so that she faced the way she had been walking.

Ontari's grip was strong, almost painfully so, but Lexa didn't complain. They began walking forward, the light of the single flaming torch enough to guide their way. Lexa was even thankful that Ontari stopped her from tripping at times.

Before Lexa even realised though, she began to hear the sounds of voices drifting through tunnels, she began to hear quiet murmurings and she found her skin beginning to crawl, she found her mind beginning to recoil to the dark.

It hadn't been lost on her that these reapers, or these master of reapers, seemed to live underground, that they hid away and came up to the surface with the sole intention of causing mayhem and destruction.

Lexa didn't know what she would expect, she didn't know what she would find when their dungeon was revealed. Maybe it would be full of violence, rotting corpses, others so deathly grey that they seemed more walking dead than living ghost. Maybe she would find abominations, beasts, reapers and foul savages fighting, clashing together, fighting over the spoils of whatever they could find.

That thought sent a jolt of panic deep into Lexa's core, if only because she knew, she understood what that could mean. But she stamped down the panic, she stamped down the fear, if only because she couldn't do anything about it.

Not yet, at least.

They turned another corner, Lexa slipped on a wet metal track on the ground and Ontari caught her in time to lift her to her feet as she came face to face with a spear pointed directly at her chest.

"Stand aside, Tris," Ontari said, her tone less full of violence than it had been before.

It took Lexa another second of stunned recognition before she realised that this person who held a spear to her chest was a child, a girl. Her face was youthful, brown eyes narrowed in suspicion and thick brown hair braided back from her face.

The girl lowered her spear and stepped aside, her gaze never wavering from Lexa's, and not for the first time Lexa found her mind slamming from one scenario to another as she registered new information after new information.

The fact that a child, a girl who couldn't even be fully into her teenage years, was what seemed like a fully blooded warrior, whose face had shown signs of battle, and whose hands had gripped a spear so comfortably in her hands, and who was willing to kill made Lexa's skin crawl. And this new information, this new revelation made her realise that the reapers and these savages who commanded them were evil, were vile, were something that her people needed to be told about, warned about, if only because she understood.

She even remembered Carl telling her of his wife, who had been out searching for supplies only to be killed and left to be found by whatever desperate search party was sent to help.

And that made her skin crawl.

Lexa swallowed, she tried to reign in her thoughts and she began listening more intently to the sounds that became more and more clear the further she walked.

They turned yet another corner, and this one had more warriors standing nearby, each one's hand on a weapon until they came into view. And then as they stepped aside, Lexa found her eyes widening and fear truly taking hold.

The warriors who had been guarding the last bend stepped aside to reveal the extent of this reaper civilisation underground.

What seemed like hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of warriors spilt out in front of Lexa. The tunnel they had walked through opened up into what could only be described as a central hub for all tunnels.

White tile cleaned and glowing scattered the red of the firelight far and wide. High walls stretched up so far overhead that Lexa knew herself to be buried so incredibly deep into the ground. The ceiling overhead was hidden by shadow as if the only thing keeping the dark at bay was the torches that continued to brave the depths of the underground. Tunnel entrances could be seen on wall after wall, each one leading somewhere amongst the twists and turns of what must be a grand spiderweb of networked passages.

But Lexa looked at the warriors, too. Each one seemed ferocious, seemed prepared and capable and willing to take limb from limb. Men and women sat around campfire, or stood, sparred, wrestled or jostled amongst themselves. Young children moved about too, some clearly under the tutelage of elders, some perhaps running errand after errand.

A mess of greens and browns and blacks adorned the bodies of most, the barest hints of whites upon a few.

And Lexa knew now what Carl had meant when he said the reapers ran in packs. If only because she could see that their numbers were so very more than anything she had anticipated.

Ontari began to march her forwards, each step she took echoing out around them, and Lexa could feel predatory eyes upon her. The skin on the back of her neck stood up and she realised that all those times in the forest when she had felt the same, was because she had been watched just the same.

Even her hands began to grow clammy as the sea of warriors parted for them as they walked. Lexa recoiled as some seemed to leer at her, she recoiled as some took longer than needed to move out of her way, their shared proximity enough to send shivers down her spine.

Lexa's mouth grew dry, too, her tongue felt heavy and she was sure she would feint, she was sure she would collapse at any moment, each revelation sending her mind further and further into overdrive as she tried to consider what it all meant.

But as if on cue, as if spurred on by some unseen force, Lexa felt Ontari tug her down a tunnel and the gazes, the oppressive weight that had beat down upon her, lifted, it seemed to ebb and subside and she found herself able to breathe once more. Ontari didn't seem to notice, or she simply didn't care for she kept walking her forward until they came to a large wood door.

More warriors stood outside this one, and Lexa eyed them as surreptitiously as she dared.

"Heda demanded she bathe," Ontari said to one who moved to stand in front of her.

He seemed to think it through for barely a second before stepping aside, and for a tiny second Lexa wondered where in the hierarchy Ontari sat. But she didn't have long to think before the doors opened and Ontari shoved her inside.

Lexa hadn't actually given much thought to what a reaper bath would entail. Perhaps she had wondered if it had merely been a colourful euphemism for a fiery death. She wondered if it would be a splash of freezing water, or a submersion into scolding heat. Or maybe even a roll in the mud considering what she had seen of the first reapers.

But whatever thoughts she had, whatever assumptions had been growing within her mind, it wasn't what was now revealed to her.

Behind the doors was a large room. White tiles, these ones seemingly more ornate, more intricate, and certainly better cared for, tiled the floor, the walls, and presumably the ceiling. Candles were placed on the ground and followed the walls as they cascaded forwards and into the depths of the room.

Firelight bounced off tile, off imperfection and almost sparkled in the light. Steam so very thick filled the room and made it impossible for Lexa to see more than a few arm's reaches in front of her, but from the sounds that slowly drifted over the sweetly scented steam, she could hear water, she could hear the bubble of heat.

"Clothes," Lexa startled as Ontari sliced her hands free and dropped what she assumed to be fresh clothes at her feet before she abruptly turned and marched out the door.

And with that Lexa found herself staring at the entrance that slammed shut behind her.

Lexa swallowed thickly as she turned to look down at the clothes that now lay at her feet, and for a moment she tried to figure out just where and how Ontari had found clothes for her.

If Lexa hadn't been experiencing some form of mental whiplash since coming to the ground, she certainly was now. The bathing house for lack of a better word, was so very different to anything she had expected. It seemed almost lovingly constructed, cared for, prepared and ornate. Even the scents that wafted on the steam contrasted so very distinctly with what Lexa had seen of the reapers and savages.

Perhaps on cue Lexa became acutely aware of her day's travel. She lifted her arm to her nose and sniffed at the clothes she wore only to be just a little repulsed at what greeted her. Sweat, mud and any other unknown smells clung to her clothing and made her nose burn just a little.

Lexa looked back at the door. Part of her thought it must be a trick, that as soon as she shed her clothes that warriors would storm inside, do something to humiliate, steal from or take. But another part of her thought that the simple fact of being offered a bath was enough of a torture, enough of a game to make her feel pity for these savages.

Lexa turned her gaze to the clothes at her feet. She reached down and found that the clothes were soft, warm from being laid on the white tile, and they seemed sturdy and delicate and intricate all at the same time. Their fabrics seemed natural, expertly crafted and so very much nicer than the clothes she currently wore.

And if Lexa was to die? At least she'd die comfortable.

Lexa took a breath to steady her beating heart before she shed her clothes as quickly as she could. She hopped on one foot and cursed her lack of thought as she came to pull her pants off only to realise her boots still remained, and she was thankful Ontari and the other guards had seen fit to give her the privacy to fail in solitude.

And so Lexa found herself stripped naked amongst the rising steam. Her vision could hardly see more than a few paces in front of her and she kicked her dirty clothes into a corner only to grimace and to feel her face flush as they left a dirty streak in their wake.

But the thought of bathing, of really bathing, of not having to watch over her shoulder lest a reaper or a river monster attack, called her forward.

Lexa took a cautious step forward, gaze peering painfully in the haze in the hopes of finding where the bathtub or water was. She took another step forward, her toes careful upon the slippery tile underfoot. She reached out a hand and she stepped forward one last time before her toes touched heat.

And she gasped.

Water touched her toe and it was hot, not quite scolding, but enough to steal her breath with the barest of brushes. As Lexa's vision adjusted to the steam she found herself standing at the edge of what seemed like a small pool of bubbling heat. The far wall was still hidden by the scented mist in front of her but she could see enough to realise that the tile dipped violently downwards, and that searing water took its place.

The water was milky, murky with salts she could just barely spy at the bottom of the water and it called to her, made her tired muscles want to leap in, dive head first and be swallowed whole.

Lexa took one last look behind her to find that she could hardly see the door, and so, with her mind made up she turned back to the water and stepped down into its hea—

"Careful of the step."

Lexa was never one to scream when frightened or startled.

But in that moment?

She did.