Clarke stared at Lexa dumbfounded, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. She blinked once, twice, perhaps three or four times as Lexa's words wriggled their way into her mind. Clarke didn't think she had heard correctly. But she had. She had recognised what Lexa said and it had been so clear, so precise, so understandable that Clarke must have imagined it.

And yet she hadn't.

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart began to race and for some reason she felt the adrenaline beginning to surge in her veins as she stared at Lexa with something a little more close to distrust colouring her soul.

"You speak english," she said, her voice quiet, careful. Guarded.

Lexa seemed to take her in for a very long moment. She watched as her eyes shifted slowly, analysed, gauged whatever it was she was seeing.

"I do," Lexa's voice was measured in tone, careful, purposeful.

"This whole time," Clarke said, she looked at the plate of food, she looked at the knife and fork in her hands, she glanced to her supplies, to her rifle and to the front door before back at Lexa. "This was a test," Clarke said.

Something very close to anger touched her voice as she pinned Lexa with a stare. Clarke felt betrayed. Or hurt. Or something she could't quite discern. She had felt like Lexa and her had a connection in some way. She had thought they had shared a bond forged in what little time they had spent together but Clarke realised it had been formed on shaky ground with her the lesser of the two.

But as Clarke began to think and consider everything that had happened she realised it made sense. At least she could see the why. Of course Lexa wouldn't trust her. Of course Lexa would be suspicious of her, of where she came, of the things she had. Clarke must have been so foreign, so unfamiliar, so…

And yet Clarke realised something, too. Lexa spoke english as much as she spoke her native tongue and she realised that must mean something. There had to be a reason why Lexa spoke both languages, there had to be a reason why English hadn't died out or there had to be a reason why another language had been created.

Clarke considered Mount Weather, she considered that ripa she had seen, she considered so many different things and she realised two things could be true. Lexa, her people, whoever they had become were the descendants of whoever had once called Mount Weather home. Or there had been conflict, a war, something horrid and violent that had been the end of all who had once called Mount Weather home and Clarke didn't know which one she thought was worse nor did she know which truth would be best for her people.

Clarke swallowed the nervousness in her heart. She knew whatever her next moments were would dictate her people's survival just as much as her's. She knew playing games with Lexa wouldn't do her any good. Clarke wasn't dumb, either, Clarke assumed Lexa had been told to do everything she did because they didn't trust her and wanted more information out of her.

"I'm not a threat," Clarke said, she made sure her voice was as quiet and calm as it could be. She turned enough in her chair so that she faced Lexa completely and she wanted to make sure Lexa knew she wasn't trying to hide anything.

Lexa's head tilted to the side ever so slightly. Her gaze never wavered from Clarke. As they stared at each other Clarke felt herself an animal trapped against a wall, she felt herself being studied, prodded, poked every which way. But she didn't let her eyes waver, didn't shrink back into herself. She wouldn't. She hadn't made it this far to turn coward when she was confronted by another challenge.

And that was what this was. A challenge. Something she'd face straight on without shying away from whatever difficulties lay waiting for her.

"Your people," Lexa said eventually.

Clarke didn't say anything. She just levelled her chin at Lexa. She'd make her ask, she'd make her be the one to get the information she needed. Clarke wouldn't let herself be coerced into giving away the information Lexa want—

"Why did you come down here?" Lexa's voice cut into her thoughts.

Clarke didn't answer immediately. But she didn't answer immediately because she was going to lie, rather she was considering how to answer. Would she try to create metaphor? Would she try to explain things in a way Lexa might understand?

No, Clarke wouldn't. If Lexa was going to play games, if Lexa was going to learn anything from her then Clarke would make her work for it.

"We live on a space station called the Ark," Clarke said. "Our air scrubbers are failing," she continued. "We have no choice but to come back down the the ground," Clarke made sure her eyes never wavered from Lexa's. "My father discovered the issue. He wanted to reveal it to our people but those in charge thought it would cause panic. He was killed to keep it secret and I was put in prison," she said. "Alone. For almost a year," she said and she forced herself not to relive the days, weeks and months she had spent in isolation. "I was given the choice of coming down to the ground first, to see if it was survivable for my people," Clarke gestured around her, to the room and to the outside that was currently hidden away from her. "And now I'm here."

"The Mountain," Lexa said. "Why?"

Clarke narrowed her eyes at Lexa for a moment.

"It used to be a bunker," Clarke answered. "If the ground wasn't as survivable as we hoped then we hoped we could live in Mount Weather."

Lexa remained quiet at her answer for so long that Clarke thought she wouldn't speak again. But just as suddenly as the silence had settled between them, so too did Lexa seemingly decide to break the silence.

"The Mountain is not safe," Lexa said. "The Mountain Men are no more."

"What happened to them?" Clarke pushed, she leant forward slightly in her chair. She needed answers, she needed to know as much as she could for her people's sake.

Lexa stood suddenly, the motion startled Clarke and she started in her chair a fraction as Lexa came to loom over her.

"I saved as many as I could," Lexa said as she stared down at her. "The rest were sacrificed. Now come."

Clarke hardly had time to make sense of what Lexa said before she pushed open the door. Sunlight streamed in from the outside, it blinded Clarke and she flinched at the suddenness of movement. Clarke glanced back at her supplies and rifle and she questioned if she'd see them again but for whatever reason she found herself not so afraid in the moment. She chewed her lip for a split second before throwing caution to the wind and quickly following Lexa out of the small room.

And so, as Clarke stepped outside she found herself marvelling at what life had truly become on the ground.

Without the hood over her face Clarke could gaze upon Ton DC. Large trees stood before her, between them were wood pathways, bridges and platforms suspended by rope and scaffolding and it took Clarke a second to realise that she wasn't on the ground. Her eyes widened as she peered over the edge of a railing to find herself high enough above the ground that she felt a little queasy.

On the floor below were other buildings, too, perhaps workshops, larger buildings, ones whose purpose was too large to suspend up in the air. People moved about below, above and around Clarke too. She could see those walking below, she could others walking on the bridges, platforms, some even scaling tree trunks and perched up amongst the mighty branches.

Clarke looked up above her to find that the canopy still remained, the leaves and branches mighty and grand and she realised her people would never have been able to see any sign of Ton DC or any other village that existed if they all were just like what she was seeing in this moment.

"You've always been here," Clarke whispered. "Surviving on the ground," she blinked back the sudden emotions that threatened to make themselves known and not for the first time she felt at a loss, unsure of how to explain.

She didn't realise Lexa stood aside and was watching her until she wiped her eyes quickly and glanced over at Lexa. There was something in Lexa's eyes, too. Clarke couldn't describe it or rather, she thought herself unable now to discern what that emotion was. Lexa seemed more guarded, more careful in how she carried herself.

And it was silly, it was foolish, but for some reason Clarke felt like she had lost a friend of sorts. Whoever Lexa had been pretending to be was gone, whoever she had assumed Lexa to be was clearly wrong and once more Clarke felt hurt, saddened, unsure and angry. But still, she pushed those emotions aside and tried to keep her mind, keep her emotions in check.

"Follow me," Lexa said as she started walking.

Clarke was quick to fall into step behind her. She ignored the aches and pains in her body and her feet. There was a subtle swaying with each step she took that she realised was the swaying of the structures that were built up around the mighty trees. Clarke was sure if she walked on the ground and looked up she'd easily mistake the platforms for a crazed web of wood and vine for each platform seemed decorated by vegetation, moss, vines, leaf and living branch. It was like the trees themselves had been formed into liveable structures and Clarke thought it beautiful and charming and so magnificent she knew she had no words to explain it.

They walked in rushed silence for a short moment. Clarke was thankful though because it gave her the opportunity to really think, to really take in everything she had to reassess. The shock of Lexa's english had worn off enough that Clarke could start planning ahead and she knew she needed to speak to whoever was in charge.

She needed to convince them to let her make contact with the Ark. She knew now that she wouldn't make it very long without help and Clarke hoped it would never given.

They started descended a spiral ramp of sorts, the flooring made of thick wood slats that were sturdy enough that Clarke was sure they'd support many tens of people. The few people they passed stepped aside and stared at them and Clarke knew they probably distrusted her, she knew they probably even feared her in some way but she pushed all those thoughts aside just as she did all other thoughts that weren't important for the time—

"Gustus," Lexa's voice cut into the air and Clarke's head shot up.

That same man who had grabbed Lexa's arm earlier stood in front of them. He said something Clarke couldn't understand before Lexa answered him just as sharply before he stared at Lexa for a split second. His vision snapped to Clarke then and she felt him pin her with an intense stare that cut into her soul.

Clarke almost stepped backwards instinctively before she caught herself. She didn't like the man. She thought him brutish, violent, and in that moment she didn't care that Lexa had lied to her even if by omission. Clarke didn't like Gustus, she didn't like the way he had spoken to Lexa and she didn't like the way he had manhandled her.

Clarke returned his gaze with a glare of her own. She put as much distain into it as she could muster. She wouldn't go as far as to actually voice her thoughts but she made it plain as day on her face. Eventually this man, this Gustus, stood aside and inclined his head as if he were submitting in some kind of way.

And with that Lexa continued walking.

"I need to speak with your leader," Clarke said as she skipped a step to keep up. "I need to explain everything," Clarke continued as she kept pace with Lexa and came side by side with her.

Lexa didn't answer her immediately, but Clarke could see there was a slight amount of something being calculated behind Lexa's eyes.

"I will take you to her," Lexa said eventually.

"Thank you," Clarke said and she didn't mean to but she reached out and squeezed Lexa's hand for a brief moment.

Clarke realised what she had done at the same time Lexa's eyes snapped down to their hands. She didn't know entirely what she expected from Lexa just as much as she didn't mean to do what she did. But Clarke couldn't take it back so she simply gave Lexa a small smile before letting her hand go.

Truthfully Clarke was just trying to make a good impression. She didn't know what else she could do. She couldn't even begin to think about what else she needed to do to convince these people that she and her people were safe. But she'd speak to their leader, she'd seek their help and she'd try to show them that she and her people could help in some way.

Clarke continued to follow Lexa through the small passageways between grand trees. Structures existed between the trees, buildings, dwellings, things she'd love to explore in time. They even passed more people. Some she thought were villagers, those who called Ton DC home. Others Clarke recognised as warriors or soldiers. Those were armed and armoured. Swords strapped to hips or across backs, spears held in hands as they seemed to walk through the village with clear purpose. She even spied some locked in combat in what she could only assume to be a training session.

And Clarke knew she didn't know anything about life on the ground. She knew she didn't know anything about what it took to survive.

But she'd learn. She'd discover, she'd prove to Lexa, to her leader and to these people that Clarke and her people could help—

"Here," Lexa said.

Clarke came to a stop beside Lexa to find them standing before a large tent that was so easily camouflaged amongst the trees that she missed it completely.

Two warriors stood outside, one, a man just as large and brooding and fearsome as Gustus, but perhaps not so mistrusted by her just yet. The other was a woman, dark skinned, older, tattooed faced with an aura that Clarke knew to be as fearsome as as any she had passed.

"Ryder," Lexa said. "Indra," she added with a slight bow of her head.

The man, Ryder, reached out and swept aside the large flap to the tent before Lexa stepped through it. Clarke took a moment to glance back over her shoulder to find a few warriors having followed them just a few paces back before she turned back forwards and stepped through.

The tent's interior was grand. Furs lined the floor. Candles and flaming torches danced their light throughout the interior. There was a large table set to one side with what Clarke thought to be a map with small wood carvings sat atop it. There was even a plate of half eaten food that lay discarded on one corner of the table.

On the far corner of the tent was a curtained section that Clarke couldn't make out and she thought perhaps it was a private space removed from prying eyes.

But Clarke's attention was pulled to the opposite side of the tent to find a large throne facing her. There were carvings of wood that backed the throne, even swords and spears that were posed fiercely between the wood carvings that Clarke thought almost looked like wings fanned out fiercely. A woman stood not far from the throne, black paint was smeared across her face and she turned her attention to her.

The woman was older than either Clarke or Lexa, perhaps by five, six, maybe even ten years. There was a keen look in her eyes, and upon her body was draped the same leathers and armours that Clarke had seen everyone wearing.

Clarke didn't realise she had come to stand in the centre of the tent until Lexa continued to move forward before stopping just a breath away from this woman, this leader. There was a hushed conversation shared between them that Clarke couldn't make out before the woman's gaze snapped to her intently.

"My name's Clarke," she said into the silence. And though Clarke knew she probably should wait to be addressed, though she knew there were customs she probably should adhere to, she also knew her people couldn't wait. "I need your help," she asked and she stepped forward slightly.

This leader stepped forward to meet her and for the briefest of moments Clarke cursed the fact that she was shorter than her as the woman stared down her nose at her.

Her face was angular, sharp, fierce in the candlelight and Clarke fought the involuntary hitch of breath as the woman loomed even closer as if she were inspecting an insolent child.

"Em pleni, Anya," Lexa's voice cut into the tension.

Clarke's eyes darted to Lexa who now stood by the throne turned to face them before the woman moving shifted her focus once more. There was a sneer upon her lips before she stepped past her and slipped out of the tent to leave both Clarke and Lexa alone.

Clarke looked back over her shoulder in confusion as she watched who she thought was the leader disappear from view before turning forward once more.

Clarke found Lexa sitting on the throne, one leg crossed over the other elegantly as one of her hands caressed her knife as if it were a beloved pet. The other hand was elegantly draped over one of the arm rests, her fingers delicate and slender as they danced against the weathered wood.

Confusion, uncertainty, bewilderment all coloured Clarke's thoughts for far too long.

But then then everything clicked into place.

And so Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking to the leader of the people who would dictate her people's survival.

"You're the one," Clarke whispered.