Anya sat reclined in her office chair, her feet propped up against the edge of her desk as she continued to look at the information displayed on her computer screen. Time seemed to move too fast and too slow for her. Her mind couldn't quite figure out what to do or what to think as she considered every little thing that had happened in the last few days. No word had come from anyone in regards to Lexa's whereabouts. Most thought her face down in the dirt somewhere in the forests, the reapers the likely culprit of her demise.

But there was something Anya couldn't quite pinpoint, something she couldn't quite figure out. They had had more communications between Mount Weather and themselves, information had been shared. Mount Weather had even given them the optimal drop point for them to bring their people down, close enough that they could get to and from Mount Weather quickly, far enough away that the Ark and all its stations could act as forward operating bases that circled Mount Weather and gave it greater presence on the ground.

And it was all so very militaristic. So unquestioningly prepared for violence that she didn't really know what to make of it. Not at first, anyway.

Her job was simple to understand, simple to explain, simple to comprehend. But it wasn't easy. It wasn't straightforward. A lot of things needed to happen to make sure stations could talk to each other, that they could communicate. She needed to be able to recognise problems in the systems before they became problems. She needed to anticipate things going wrong before they did so she could reduce the amount of time any one station's systems would be unable to communicate to another.

And that was exactly what Mount Weather was doing.

She knew it, she thought others knew it too. But there was more to the problem than that.

The hundred volunteers hadn't been attacked immediately upon crashing to the ground. They had been safe on the ground for long enough that the reapers would have seen them, would have and should have attacked if they were as mindless and as unthinking as Mount Weather had said. And yet they hadn't. The reapers had waited, they had clearly planned, clearly set a trap to kidnap and steal. And that made Anya think they weren't so unthinking, weren't so animalistic.

And if being Communications Chief had taught her anything, it was that if a problem seemed too easy, then there was more than likely something else at play, something else that needed to be considered lest she jump the gun and break things more than they already were.

She only needed to discover what her something else was.

There was a moment's silence that hung around the table before motion exploded around her. Lexa had never seen so many people begin reaching for food with such eager intensity. The man who had initially warned her of reaching for the cutlery reached out and took hold of a large platter of meats that smelt so intoxicatingly rich that Lexa felt her mouth all but drool.

She took a moment to watch as that man piled his plate high of meat before he put the platter aside and reached for another, this one covered in roasted vegetables. For a moment Lexa assumed he would pass her the food, but she thought herself a fool for even thinking that as he seemed to ignore whatever attempts she made.

Lexa looked up and down the table to find all warriors scrambling for the best cuts of meat, for their favourite roasted vegetables or cheeses, pies and jugs of drink. It was almost funny, almost entrancing to watch the dance that played out around her. But Lexa winced as someone to her other side reached across from her and picked up the platter only to ignore her plate and pile food atop their own.

And so Lexa found herself realising that if she was to be fed, if she was to satiate herself, she would need to fend and to fight for whatever she could. Lexa waited until the second warrior finished piling meat atop their plate before she reached out, eyes fixed onto a very enticing leg of a bird she couldn't identify, but whose meat was seared to perfection, whose juices oozed, and whose glazing made her stomach growl so ferociousl—

The plate was snatched from her grasp by a warrior nearby, they ignored whatever shocked curse slipped past her lips and Lexa glared as she tried reaching for another platter, this one full of cheeses. This time she managed to pick it up, she managed to begin pulling towards her before a different warrior, far larger than he had any right to be, reached out from the other side of the table, grunted something at her and simply took the plate from her hands and began piling the cheeses onto his own plate.

"Hey, that's mi—" and Lexa almost reached out, almost tried stealing back the food her eyes so desperately wanted. But the man ignored her as another warrior snatched the plate from his grasp.

And she realised.

Lexa looked around herself at every single warrior that fended for themselves. There was selfishness in the way they so very clearly snatched food from each other's grasp, there was a determination in the way they analysed the flow of meats and vegetables, of pies and fruits and drink. And yet, as she watched, as she studied, as she followed the disordered chaos, she found herself not thinking it selfish at all. She saw one man's face fall as a woman victoriously dropped a quite clearly caramelised and delicious slice of meat onto her plate. She watched as the warrior said something before holding up two slices of cheese, and her eyes narrowed as understanding began to dawn on her.

The woman sighed, looked down at the slice of meat before back to the second man. There were quick words shared between them before the man smiled, laughed and punched the air in clear excitement as he passed his plate to her. The transaction, for it quite clearly was a transaction, happened quickly. The woman took hold of the man's plate, pushed the cheeses onto her plate before she cut off more than half of her caramelised meat and transferred it onto his plate before passing it back to him.

And as Lexa looked around her, as she began to really study the things she saw, she found herself realising that the commotion, the barks of words, some a little more threatening than others, all seemed to be in service of getting whatever was considered fair. She saw foods being passed from one to another, she saw agreements, some looks of sorrow as a trade was declined and she saw others laughing at those unfortunate enough to miss out on their preferred cuts.

She had more to learn, more to understand, so much she didn't understand. And that shocked her. If only because her people had never had the luxury of sharing a meal, of trading for their favourites pieces of meat or cheese of fruits and sweets. But here, despite the weapons, despite the scars and the tattoos she found something gentler under the surface that she hadn't really noticed at first.

But Lexa's gaze settled back to Clarke who sat before her.

Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her to find that Clarke's plate was full of what seemed to be the best cuts of meat, the best slices of cheeses, the best of anything for offer. But Clarke's gaze was transfixed on her, it didn't seem the waver and it seemed far more intense than it had been moments ago.

Again that same feeling permeated within her mind, and it was a thought, something she couldn't place, but it told her that danger was close, it told her something she couldn't understand was too near and too ready to pounce. And yet, as she looked at Clarke, as she eyed the subtle lifting of a lip, she couldn't help but to think that warning not too serious, not so alarming.

But for why she couldn't tell.

Lexa swallowed, she looked back down at her empty plate and she grimaced as she realised she would soon miss out lest she do something about it.

She reached for the closest platter of food, the cheeses atop it quite clearly not the most desirable simply because they were the only left untouched. But she wouldn't complain, she hadn't eaten anything close to a tenth as good as what she assumed to be the lonely rejects. She was thankful to be given the chance to eat anything, really, even if it was th—

"Tangro."

Lexa looked up to find Clarke looking at the man who had warned her not to begin eating before being invited.

"Share."

It was so simple, so quiet that Lexa almost thought she had misheard. But Tangro quite clearly had for he bowed his head without even a second's pause before he shoved her with his elbow to make her offer him her plate, the motion perhaps a little harder than he needed before he lifted his plate and began shovelling half of everything on his plate onto hers.

Lexa's lips parted in surprise as she looked from Clarke to Tangro, if only because she had assumed this also to be a test of her mettle, to see if she could fend for herself amongst the most famished and fierce of Clarke's warriors. But yet again that same expression coloured Clarke's gaze as she continued to stare at her.

"This one is the best," Tangro said gruffly as he gestured to a particularly fatty piece of meat that he had piled onto her plate. "Eat it with this," and he reached out with a wickedly sharp knife and push a green roasted root into the centre of her plate.

"Thanks," Lexa said quietly as she reached for a fork.

"Heda commands it," Tangro said in answer, his voice tinged with just the slightest hints of sadness at the loss of such a catch. But before too long he reached out and snared an entire platter of what was left of a still largely untouched roasted fish and piled it onto his own plate to replace what he had given her.

Lexa looked down at her plate now, and though it wasn't anywhere near as full as the plates of the warriors who sat around her, she knew it more food than she had ever eaten in one single sitting in her entire life, perhaps even in an entire week, she knew it would be far tastier than anything she had eaten ever before.

She knew she would never be able to eat it all.

That was for sure.

Lexa's head felt dulled, her senses slowed and her belly so very full. She hadn't been able to comprehend much more than the one singular fact that was the explosions of flavours each time she bit into a new meat, into a new vegetable, roasted or otherwise, or even odd fruits and cheeses, pies and pastries and things she couldn't even describe.

It shouldn't have shocked her when what she had been surprised to find out was merely the first feast, was replaced by desserts of all kinds. Candied fruits, diced, topped with syrup and some kind of frosting that was sprinkled so very delicately in patterns were all laid out across the table. Small pastries, all piping hot, creams and custards, ice creams and jellies were brought in one after the other until all Lexa could see was more and more and more food that she would never be able to eat.

And yet, as time passed her by, as she made the barest of efforts to reach out and to eat enough that it wasn't obvious she was full, she was sure Clarke barely took her eyes off her, she was sure she was studied and analysed. And still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more in the way Clarke stared her down. It unsettled her, it made her shiver, and it made part of her want to leap forward, embrace and chase whatever that feeling was. But for why, she could not tell.

And so Lexa tried to stifle the groan that threatened to escape past her lips as she forced down one last mouthful of a pastry that danced somewhere between sweet and bitter. She actually enjoyed it, perhaps it was the texture, perhaps it was the spice that seemed to wriggle its way into her sinuses and make her eyes water just a little.

But that conversation that had flowed, that raucous of noise that had permeated through whatever the space was she found herself slowly died down. It wasn't a sudden drop in conversation, it wasn't something noticeable at first, and yet it happened all the same. Lexa looked around to find a warrior or two finishing off the last of the food, she saw one wipe their knife delicately on a piece of fabric before sliding it back into the hidden sheath strapped to their inner forearm, and she watched as others rolled their shoulders, wiped their mouths and seemed to wait.

She looked back at Clarke to find the woman in hushed conversation with that same older blonde man who sat before her, the frown on his face very much the same as what decorated Clarke's.

Lexa watched for a moment longer as Clarke whispered something at the older man. And it was odd, strange, so subtle that she almost missed it.

There was a nod of understanding, something barely registered upon the man's face before he stood. With him stood almost every other warrior that had clearly been waiting for his move. Lexa watched as whatever jovial spirits had once been present quickly bled into that same quiet intensity she had first felt rolling off every single person she had passed. As if as one they all turned for the door and began to move out, hands subconsciously falling to weapons and movements slowly turning predatory.

And so Lexa found herself sitting awkwardly alone on her side of the table as Clarke, Ontari and the woman with the downcast eyes sat before her. She didn't quite know what to make of the situation. Not that she knew what to make of anything that had happened really.

Staying quiet seemed the best course of action, letting someone else break the silence and the careful tension seemed the most prudent of solutions and s—

Clarke shifted, the motion caught her attention and Lexa watched as the woman slowly began rolling up her sleeve to her elbow. The pale grey of her skin seemed to glow in the dancing of the candle light. It sparkled against her flesh. It shifted its shadows back and forth and Lexa watched with uncertainty as things she couldn't quite fathom happened before her eyes.

"How was your meal?" Clarke asked, her voice gentle and low as it reached her ears.

Lexa paused, perhaps because she didn't know how to answer, maybe because she didn't know what to answer. Was it a test? Was it a game? If she said she enjoyed it would that give Clarke something more than she intended?

But as Lexa continued to look Clarke in the eyes, as she continued to study the woman who was surely not completely human, she found herself thinking there wasn't something hidden in the question. Not quite, at least.

"Good," and Lexa swallowed awkwardly as she watched a subtle smirk spread across Clarke's lips.

There was a pause before Clarke answered slowly.

"That is pleasing to hear."

Lexa continued to stay quiet as Clarke looked at her from across the table, her tilted ever so slightly to the side.

But then she spoke.

"You wonder why I have kept you alive, Lexa," it wasn't so much a question as something between observation and guest, and yet there was something close to joviality within her tone that Lexa couldn't quite look past.

"Yeah," she shrugged, "I wondered."

It was a little more brazen then she probably should have been but she thought she saw the beginnings of a smile grace Clarke's grey lips.

"You will help us," Clarke said then.

"I will?" Lexa challenged, her gaze snapping to Ontari's for the briefest of moments to see the woman smirk something between sinister approval and affronted mirth.

"Yes," Clarke said simply.

Lexa found her head nodding, perhaps to give herself time to consider how that help would take place, perhaps to give Clarke the impression that she was willing to help, if only because she didn't think refusal was an option open to her.

"This is Maya," Clarke continued as she gestured to the other woman next to her, whose gaze had hardly left the tabletop, whose head of wild curls seemed as much untamed beast as they did wild forest.

Maya looked up at her name though and Lexa saw something in her eyes that was different to what she saw in Clarke's, in Ontari's, in any of the other warriors who she had laid eyes on in recent times. Lexa took in the way her skin seemed just a little more pale than Ontari's, she took in the fact that Maya's flesh seemed void of scars, wounds, tattoos and any other markings that she had seen upon every single other person. And Lexa thought she understood.

"You're from Mount Weather," Lexa said to Maya.

"Yes," and Maya's voice came out quiet but strong, gentle yet firm.

Lexa's gaze snapped from Maya's to Clarke's then to Ontari's. She didn't know what she expected to see, perhaps humour, perhaps mirth, perhaps careful calculation, but instead all she saw was a forced emptiness that made it all but impossible to gauge reaction or thought.

Maybe this was what would await Lexa, maybe being something between slave and pet and guarded prisoner was what her life would now become. If only because she saw Maya had no weapons, if only because she didn't think Maya able to leave at all. And perhaps Lexa had guessed wrong, perhaps Clarke, Ontari, every other person had lied to her, had hidden their plans, their intentions from her just as Carl had done.

"Are—" Lexa stopped herself from asking whatever it was she was about to ask.

But this time Maya smiled lightly, the emotion perhaps the most free expression she had seen from the woman yet.

"No," Maya said with a shake of her head. "I'm not a prisoner," and Maya clutched her hands a little more tightly in front of her where they rested atop the table. "If that was what you were going to ask."

"I—" again Lexa didn't quite know what to say. Perhaps the only thing she knew in that very moment was that she didn't know anything at all.

"My people are evil," Maya said then, and this time there was an iron in her voice that made Lexa's attention hone in on her words. "Heda," and Maya gestured to Clarke, "she could have had me killed," and Lexa was under no misconceptions that Clarke would be more than willing and capable of doing that should she choose. "But she didn't."

Lexa looked back to Clarke to see the woman's gaze ever focused on her as she took in whatever it was that Lexa was sure she couldn't keep hidden from her face.

"Why?" perhaps that was the safest thing Lexa could ask.

"Why?" Maya repeated quietly.

"Why are you helping?" Lexa's response came equally as quiet, but she thought she knew.

"I've seen what my people do to nightbloods," Maya said and her gaze was firm. "I know what my people are told about these people," and she looked at Clarke and Ontari and this time there was a sad smile, something between regret and acceptance, bittersweet understanding and broken loss. "With everything I've seen, everything I know?" Maya looked back at her. "I know who the bad guys are."