A knock sounded at the door shortly after sunrise. Sadie, with little more than a perfunctory nod at her bedridden charge, set a large basin down on the table and made her way efficiently about the room, throwing open the curtains, and stoking the fire. Her auburn curls bounced aggressively as she turned to Katja with a look of such single-minded determination that the Amin's eyes widened slightly.

"Good morning Sadie." Katja recovered quickly enough to greet the wiry girl appropriately, as well as the large woman that entered shortly after. "Farrah."

The looming member of Heda's personal guard, who had been assigned to Katja since the Trial, wordlessly grabbed the basin and brought it to the bedside, holding it for her much smaller companion.

"I am glad you're awake," Sadie declared. "It's far easier to bathe you when you're conscious."

"I will keep that in mind next time I decide to impale myself on something."

"Mmpf." Was all she got from Sadie, though Katja caught a glimpse of a grin on the younger girl's lips as she moved to rinse the cloth in the basin. She shot one of her own towards Farrah, and wasn't surprised to only receive the quirk of a brow in return.

The severity of her injury did little to deter Sadie from scrubbing her down like a heavily soiled rug. The cloth pressed and dragged against her skin in a way that made Katja wonder if servant girl woke up perpetually irritated or if it was a special trait that she herself brought out. In no time, she had been completely refreshed, including clean clothes and a small plate of breakfast.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a single thick braid that draped over her left shoulder, black strands matching the inked hands that worked at a very unladylike pace to shovel food into her mouth. She made short work of the breakfast, barely pausing long enough to notice what she was eating, before laying back against the pillows with a satisfied sigh.

Sadie, looking mildly disgusted, cleared the dishes and with a small bow retreated to the safety of the hallway. Katja and Farrah were left to an uncomfortable game of avoiding eye contact and speaking as little as possible.

It was with great relief that Katja greeted the second knock on her door that morning.

"Come in!"

"I figured I'd get here early before the parade of more important people started." Clarke's sarcasm at this hour sounded harsher than intended and so she tried to lighten it with a dazzling smile as she entered, side-stepping Farrah and pausing just inside the room. To her relief, the girl smiled back and motioned to the chair near the bed.

"Good morning Klark, it's wonderful to see you. You look well. I had hoped you would stop by."

Clarke ducked her head in surprised embarrassment at the sincerity in Katja's tone. Everything in her life currently seemed to revolve around tension, conflict, aggression and hurt, and it was almost off-putting to be confronted with that kind of pure positivity, particularly so early in the morning. She settled herself into the chair and laced her hands loosely in her lap.

"How are you feeling?"

"My mind is alert, but my body is still very angry with me," Katja chuckled, poking a finger gently in random spots. "In time I'm certain all will be back to normal. My care has been exemplary, if on the slightly intimidating side. My servant is tiny, but almost as terrifying as the Commander."

"Ahhhh yes, the fearsome Commander. You finally got your chance to meet Heda in the flesh. I seem to recall you were quite looking forward to that the first time we spoke in the woods."

Katja hesitated, which made Clarke laugh wryly.

"Everything you hoped for and more I take it?" Clarke scooted the chair towards the bed a bit and leaned forwards with her elbows on her knees. "Sounds as though you got quite the welcome. Betrayal is a skill that Heda seems to have mastered. Even still, it's not everyone that gets shoved into a fighting ring like a prized rooster within a week of arriving in Polis."

"I…". Katja chewed her lower lip, wanting to choose her words carefully. She wasn't sure how much Clarke knew of the Coalition's abuses en route to the capital but she had no desire to further the blonde's hatred of the Clans, or of Lexa herself. "There was nothing that could be done. Nia proved more bold than even the Commander had suspected. I will admit that I do find their way a little more combative than maybe is necessary, but I need them. I need them to trust me or at the very least accept me. Sometimes we're forced to play by rules we'd prefer to avoid."

"Do you?" Clarke sniffed dismissively. "Do you actually need them? From what I have heard, it sounds as though you would be quite capable, fists and otherwise, of handling the Coalition on your own. Why kneel so willingly? Why not fight for it?"

Katja shook her head softly. "There is a structure to these things Klark, and a way of working within it to accomplish much without tearing it apart."

"Sounds cowardly."

"Taking the path of least resistance is not always the coward's way. And dismantling the hierarchy is not always the most intelligent." There was no rebuke in Katja's response. Clarke's opinion seemed to be the prevailing one amongst both the Skaikru and the Coalition.

"These people are tired. Their spirits are tired. Always fighting; always suspicion and mistrust, and never a reliable promise of calm, of quiet. Of peace. It's an exhausting way to live. I have already caused disruption with my sudden appearance. To step into the role of Heda would cause chaos and I have no interest in that, or the position, though no one seems to listen when I say it. Lexa kom Trikru is the one to lead. She is the one born for the command. We are in our rightful places."

"That kind of clarity must be nice. I thought I had it once, a clear purpose, a noble goal." Clarke's lips twisted into a sardonic grin.

"And what happened to that goal?"

"The Mountain happened. Wanheda happened. The day the mediator became the murderer."

"Klark….what choice did you feel you had? You saved many people. Ended decades of suffering." Katja frowned, not wanting to be misconstrued. "I'm not downplaying your decision, at all. If ever something of that nature was done lightly or without afterthought I would be concerned."

"Would you have done the same?" A quick flash of pained regret crossed the Skaikru girl's features before she tucked it away. "Would you have pulled that switch?"

"I will not lie to you. I don't know. But I also do not think there is a wrong decision in situations such as that. What we choose we must live with. You must live with yours. And I don't envy you that."

"Not going to try to make me feel better about it?"

"Could I? Even if I tried?"

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry?" Clarke had caught Katja off-guard.

"Thank you. For not patronizing me." Clarke clasped her hands together and stared at the floor for a moment. "Everyone just keeps telling me I did the right thing, that they would have done the same, that those people were evil. But I know they weren't, not all of them. I killed innocent people."

"You also killed evil people."

"I killed children."

"Yes you did. But saved future ones. There is no easy answer here, we could go back and forth for days Klark."

"So I should just forget about it? About them?"

"I didn't say that. And that's impossible, we both know that."

Clarke said nothing, just unlinked her fingers and smoothed her hands across the material on her thighs.

"Klark, may I say something you won't like?"

"If I said no, would that stop you?"

Katja laughed and shook her head. "Not likely."

"Thought not. Out with it then."

"Right and wrong can be very subjective, and are rarely black and white."

"And?"

"That's all."

Clarke mulled the words over and shot a hard stare in Katja's direction. She didn't appreciate the implication. "Don't defend her."

"I won't. But the fact that you leapt there without my suggestion —"

"Stop right there."

"As you wish." Katja dipped her head briefly. She had no desire to rile Clarke beyond that. There was a lull in the conversation, as Clarke worked through her indignation and Katja kept wisely silent. Finally, the Skaikru leader broke the silence.

"Why do you think it will be any better this time? For any of us?"

"What do you mean?"

"We've all been at this a long time, this survival game. Different places, different perspectives maybe, but all the same in the end. My people put their faith in a council, in democracy, and I don't think it got us much further than the Clans. What makes you think this Coalition is the way to peace?"

"I'm afraid my answer isn't going to be very satisfying," Katja started almost apologetically, knowing that Clarke's very logical brain would likely dismiss it, "but I just know. I can feel it."

"You can feel it." It was difficult for the blonde to keep the incredulous note from her voice. "You left the safety of your home, travelled through dangerous territory, had the shit kicked out of you and almost died, just because you can 'feel it'?"

"I don't expect you to understand it Klark, I know how it sounds." Katja smiled in spite of herself. "It took me a long time to convince myself that everything: the dreams, the pull southwards, the conviction — that it wasn't just a sign of my own insanity."

"You never had them before? The dreams and whatnot? I thought they were kind of standard for you."

"Not like that. Not like her."

"Lexa?"

Katja nodded, careful to keep her expression neutral. "She's special. A new form of some very very old blood. As are you Klark."

"Me?" Clarke scoffed, "you must be joking."

"I'm not. The first time I saw you was well before we met at that rock in the woods and the second I laid eyes on you, even amidst the chaos of your camp and the unruliness of your companions, I knew you had a role to play in all of this."

"And what about you?" Clarke preferred to divert the attention away from herself as quickly as possible. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"I will do whatever I can to help the Commander."

"That's kind of vague, no?"

"It is."

"Are you not Heda's equal though, as 'Kovakeryon?"

"Yes. I am the shadow to her light. Her equal in all things but we are both bound to the interests of the people. We live, in a way, to serve, not to rule. She is the first in some time to see it as such. She needs support, however, and advisors interested in achieving the same goals as she is. I hope to be that, and will jump into as many arenas as necessary until given the chance to prove it."

"Despite everything she did to you."

"Despite everything she did to me." Katja sighed and dropped her gaze. "I was naive. Very naive. I was facing years of patterned behaviour that could not simply be brushed aside with a greeting and a promise. I went into this uneducated and foolish, so blinded by the righteousness of my visions that I could not see how treacherous the Path I had chosen to walk truly was. I accept a great deal of blame for the way things happened."

"You are a better person than m-…" Clarke caught herself. "Most."

"I"m not sure about that," Katja grinned broadly, "but I do hold rather stubbornly to my convictions."

"We'll see for how much longer."

Katja looked much healthier, even one day on. There was a tinge of pink to her previously ashen cheeks and her smile came easily and often as they talked. Despite the heavy subject matter initially, the two meandered over many topics of conversation, finding common ground on some, and decidedly rocky terrain in others.

"Tell me Klark, about your life before you came here. Forgive my nosiness but I just find the idea so incredible." Katja struggled to get herself higher up on the pillows, her neck stiff from looking at Clarke from a rather awkward angle.

To her surprise she heard her companion rise and felt Clarke's strong hands loop under her arms, helping to settle her into place. It took several repetitions of lift and wiggle to accomplish the task, and all the while Clarke reacted no differently to her than were she a normal patient.

"Do I not scare you?" Katja frowned slightly. Most were afraid of contact, fearful of witchcraft and sorcery and all the old wive's tales told about the abilities she possessed. Clarke was close, one blonde curl brushing softly against Katja's cheek and yet the Skaikru girl showed more concern for fluffing the pillows appropriately than for her proximity.

"What do I have to be scared of? What more could possibly happen to me that hasn't already?" Clarke's snorted quietly but she made no move to back away, keeping her arms hooked beneath Katja's. "Imprisonment? Death? At this point I'm not sure even that would be so bad."

This one was dangerous. A cornered cat with one last life and a chip on its shoulders the size of a mountain. Katja lifted her eyes to meet Clarke's, so close that she could count the other's individual lashes.

For a moment they simply studied each other. This was the first opportunity they had had to be in each other's company without stress, or anger, or shocking quantities of blood. It was a time for measurement, for cataloguing, and for trying to read things that each would prefer remained hidden. Clarke broke the spell first, forced to blink under the open scrutiny of Katja's stare.

"Do not be so eager to wish death upon yourself Klark." A dark hand reached up and tucked the stray strand of golden hair behind the Skaikru's ear, lingering momentarily along the outer shell before lowering to rest against the back of Clarke's neck. Katja could sense the emotion boiling beneath the surface, pushing back against her fingertips insistently. She felt Clarke tense. "Never wish that. It would be a great shame."

Clarke couldn't think. Up close, the stranger's eyes burned with a thousand shades of green, each fighting to hold her attention. The soft press of Katja's fingers against her skin as the girl drew her nearer still squeezed the air from Clarke's lungs. She could do nothing but close her eyes, waiting for the contact her body so clearly craved.

To her surprise, she felt a pressure against her forehead and her eyes fluttered open to find Katja's head resting gently against her own, eyes closed.

"Promise me that you will not do anything rash Klark. You are too important."

"I won't make promises I have no intentions of keeping." Clarke licked her lips, trying to ignore the desperate flutter in her stomach. She countered instead with sarcasm. "Just what am I important for exactly? Entertainment?"

There was the faint exhale of a laugh against Clarke's face, but no other movement. The perfect stillness of the stranger made the blonde's fidgety side itch. Katja's eyes were still closed, her breathing even. Clarke gnawed at the inside of her lip. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Thinking." A green eye cracked open slightly and Katja suppressed a grin at Clarke's expression.

Not sure I would call this nothing…. Clarke's insides lurched. "Why don't you, you know, do your thing?" She freed a hand to make a random gesture in the air, separating herself slightly. "I want to know what you see."

"No."

"Why not?"

"That's not the way it works. I-…I cannot pick and choose what I see and what I feel. It must never be done lightly and it rarely ends happily. Please don't ask this of me, at least not just now."

Clarke shook off Katja's hand and pulled back, seeing the concern in Katja's expression. With a shrug, she pushed away from the bed and returned to the chair, slinging a leg casually over one of the arms. "Why don't you tell me how it does work then?"

Bitter Clarke was back. Katja inhaled deeply.

"All I have done since arriving has been to explain myself. I swear I will answer all of your questions very soon, but for now can you please just tell me a story? Of your life, before all this."

Clarke kicked her foot slowly forward and back over the arm, seemingly content to change subjects for the time being. A nail wedged its way into a small crack in the wood of the chair, picking thoughtfully at it.

"There is an old adage: the grass is always greener on the other side. Growing up I wanted nothing more to be able to feel real grass and see real animals and feel rain and wind and the sun as it should be felt."

"Life on the stations was restrictive, but we all followed the rules believing that what we were doing kept us safe. Gave us a peaceful, functioning society. The Council allowed horrible things to happen, we allowed horrible things to happen, in the name of stability and control. Resources were guarded, the population controlled, all to try to secure that peace and happiness you also seek."

"There are things that must be sacrificed to attain either it seems. The approach perhaps not as dissimilar as you might think." Katja tried to imagine her whole life spent in a metal box, watched and counted and confined. It seemed inhumane. She considered momentarily that perhaps Clarke and her fellow Fallen felt the same about the dangers on the ground. "Though I must say that any group capable of sending their own children into danger doesn't seem like a particularly enlightened society to me. How were you all chosen?"

"Some of us were criminals. Many used or stole restricted resources for pleasure or personal gain, one was a rare second child —those were strictly forbidden, large families used too much air, ate too much food — and I, well I found out about some secrets that I shouldn't have. It was either this or be floated."

"Floated?"

"Shoved in an airlock and then sucked into space. It's about as brutal as it sounds but a quick death between the radiation and lack of oxygen. The threat of capital punishment kept people in line most of the time."

Katja was gaping at her, mouth open. Clarke realized, not for the first time, how truly barbaric it sounded.

"My father was floated."

"Gods, Klark, I-….what for?"

"Trying to tell people the truth. A truth that the Council was suppressing to avoid mass panic. We were running out of air. The old generators were failing. Despite the questionable methods, resources really were quite limited, and in the case of breathable air, finite. Hence shipping us down here. If we lived there was hope. My own mother, she let them do that to my father, let them do this to me. She was so caught up in following the rules that she destroyed her own damn family."

"If you were raised to believe the importance of the group over the importance of an individual…. I'm sure they were extremely difficult decisions to make, especially for a person in a position of authority."

"Don't excuse her. And don't insult me by pretending to understand."

"I'm sorry, I meant not to offend."

"And now she is on the ground, and due in Polis at the end of the week."

"How do you feel about that?" Katja tried desperately not to sound like a well-meaning but clueless counsellor. "I mean, have you seen your mother since she landed?"

"No. By the time I found out that they had followed I was already being hauled unceremoniously back here by Roan. I haven't seen her. I don't particularly want to see her."

"But?"

"But those are still my people. The Skaikru as you call them. They are like newborns on this planet, unprotected and vulnerable and the worst part is that they don't even realize it."

"Has Heda told you of her planned proposal?"

"She has."

"And the chances of the Skaikru's delegates accepting?"

"Slim to none." Clarke shook her head sadly. "Skaikru are fiercely independent, we've always had to do everything, figure out everything, on our own. Couple that with the fact the leaders feel they are technologically, medically and militarily superior to the 'savages' they are dealing with and I just don't see it."

"Your people send one hundred children into an environment they fully expect to be lethal, and yet they view us as savages?"

Clarke merely shrugged.

"What would you like to happen Klark?"

"No one cares what I want."

"I do. You are here for a reason. You are, as I said, important. You must believe that. "

"Yeah? Well I want my life back. The one before I knew about Grounders, and Reapers, and the Mountain. Before I killed all of those people. Before my friends died because of me. Before I thought and dreamt and lived death every fucking second of every fucking day."

"Klark—"

"No, don't. Nothing you could say would make this better. I am Wanheda, according to the Clans, the Commander of Death. People fear me, loathe me, avoid me. I hate everything that I've become."

"You would feel so much more than hate, if you would only let yourself. Maybe in time it will come to pass." Katja raised her hands defensively before Clarke could round on her with a rebuttal. "Perhaps it will not. That is not a choice I can make for you."

"Can you make this," Clarke tapped at her chest, "better? Make the hollowness and emptiness go away? Make me forget the horror show of the last few months?"

"No." Katja hesitated. "Not really. Only ease it for a time. That sort of healing is the most difficult. Bones, blood and flesh mend easily, but the mind, the soul, they take time and mutual effort."

"Shame."

"If you ever wish to talk however, I would be honoured to listen and to help in anyway I can."

"Great. I've got myself a Grounder shrink." Clarke caught a look of disappointment from the bedridden girl across from her and had the decency to look chagrined. "Sorry. I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

"That's all I would ask."

"I should be going." Clarke squirmed visibly in her seat, sufficiently uncomfortable as to aim for a hasty retreat.

Katja merely nodded, knowing there was little to be won by arguing with Clarke to stay. These things happened at their own pace, in their own time. "Thank you for the visit Klark and please, and I mean this, come back to see me soon. Being trapped in this room is torturous without good company to make it bearable."

"I will. You owe me a story." Clarke stood and tried to appear casual as she made her way to the door. "Better be a good one deserter."

Katja's laughter followed Clarke out into the hallway as she left the room. Her escorts fell into place beside her as she took a deep breath, steadied herself, and made her way back to her own chambers.

—-

The next 48 hours were filled with soup. Soup and routine visits from Sadie and Nyko, who worked together to bully her into moving her bed-ridden limbs. Her legs were particularly problematic. She could barely flex her knee enough to make it visible beneath the sheets. After weeks of inactivity, they ached fiercely, but she bore the pain with good grace. She had four days to regain her strength.

Katja was disappointed that Clarke had not returned, though with her mother's impending visit it was not hard to understand that she might be preoccupied with other matters. She sifted through their conversation endlessly, trying to figure out what she could have done differently to have gotten through to her.

She smiled, remembering the feel of Clarke's skin on her fingers and the heat of the blush that Clarke could do nothing to hide. It had felt good, to touch someone. To not have them flinch or pull away. The warmth of simple contact and softness of willing flesh had been like a drug after so long without it. The fact that Clarke had taken it another way entirely was flattering. A different place, a different time perhaps and that wouldn't have been impossible. There was no denying Clarke's attractiveness. She had the sort of looks and bearing that drew all eyes towards her the moment she entered a room.

"Something amuses you?" Sadie paused in her manipulations at a particularly painful point, causing Katja's smile to twist into a wince.

"Only the dedication with which you pursue your duties. If I didn't know better I would think you were enjoying my discomfort."

"Mmm." A strong hand shoved her in to a siting position, ignoring her grumbled protests. "For someone of your station, you complain like an infant."

Katja's jaw dropped. Farrah failed to smother her laughter, a deep throaty chuckle that made the Amin redden all the more. There was no pause to Sadie's activity, and if the girl cared to realize how she had been spoken to a newly appointed Coalition leader, she gave no sign.

"Today you will get up. Walk around, get some fresh air. I have prepared warm clothing: boots, cloak, gloves. Farrah and I will accompany you. You cannot remain a cave dweller for ever. "

Katja narrowed her eyes, a spark of indignation flickered briefly. The thought of finally getting out of this damned bed for more than a few seconds won out, however, over debating the finer points of her captivity with the fiery haired servant. "Then I guess we had best get going."

In no time, they had her bundled up in enough layers of clothing to make her almost unrecognizable. Immediately she began to sweat profusely, a trickle making its way lazily down her back. These Southerners and their intolerance of a little cold! She felt as though she would melt before she even made it outside. The other two seemed content to take their time, putting on their outer layers with maddening slowness.

When at last they were ready, Farrah approached, looming menacingly in front of Katja before scooping her up with unexpected tenderness. She caught the injured girl's surprised look and returned a gentle shrug, cradling the much smaller figure against her chest as though she weighed no more than a child.

"Just until we reach the outer door. Save your strength until there are people around to witness. "

"A wise idea." Katja nodded softly and looped her arm around the back of Farrah's neck. The taller woman flinched ever so slightly, but her stoic expression returned as Katja's hand merely settled on the oiled leather of her shoulder armor. "Farrah?"

She was treated to a gruff grunt by way of response.

"You have my word. You as well Sadie. You both have treated me with great care despite what I assume must be some rather large misgivings. I am very much in your debt and I hope one day to repay it. You have nothing to fear from me."

The two others cast a quick look at each other before Sadie spoke. "Mochof, Amin." It quite likely was the most respectful thing the girl had ever said to her.

They made their way through the empty corridors of the Tower uninterrupted. Every available body was busy at work preparing for the celebration in four days time and the arrival of the Skaikru contingent.

Farrah carried her easily, long loping strides making short work of the distance to the elevator. Down it creaked, the aging mechanism protesting against its burden all the way to the ground floor. Not a word was spoken but the silence was comfortable, companionable even.. Just before the doors opened into the bustling lower floors, Farrah set Katja carefully on her feet, keeping a large hand squarely in the middle of her back.

"Is your plan to pick me up by the scruff of my neck?"

"If needs be. It will be more appropriate than watching a Council member fall face first into the mud."

"More appropriate, but less entertaining I'm assuming…"

Farrah shook her head and gave Katja a gentle shove forward as the ancient doors of the lift squealed open. To her credit, Katja kept her balance, gingerly stepping out into the hallway and taking a few tentative steps towards the main reception hall. She straightened, standing tall even beneath the bulk of the black furs that Sadie had seen fit to swaddle her in. It was imperative that none suspected how weak she still truly was. Heda's enemies, now her own, would surely jump at the chance to remove her before the coming ceremony to mark her return to the Council.

She cast a questioning backwards glance at her minders and Sadie stepped forward, leading the way through the large, high ceiling room. All eyes swivelled immediately to her but she ignored them, instead adopting an air of aloofness as she stepped confidently through the middle of the hall. She was used to being on display, used to performing, and today she was the star attraction for the bureaucratic well-to-do in Polis.

No one dared approach and so they crossed the space quickly, although her legs burning slightly with the effort to keep up. As the great doors swung open the cold light of the early winter sun nearly blinded her and she squinted into world beyond, her eyes taking some time to adjust. The air had a bite to it that had not been there during the Trial. The sun, though shining, lacked it's autumn warmth and sat like a great burning disc in the sky, illuminating much, but comforting little.

The outside smelled of horse dung and leather and wet wood, the recent rains evidenced in the puddles along the pathways and the pockets of mud. Sadie turned left and Katja followed, inhaling deeply and just barely containing her excitement at being outside of those hideous stone walls. Polis, on one's feet and in the daylight, was a wonder to behold. Armourers and leaterworkers clustered near the base of the tower gave way to artisans and food stalls. As she had said to Lexa previously, she longed to explore the alleyways and shops of the great city, so unlike anything she'd ever had the opportunity to experience in the Wastes.

Her guide, however, was on a mission, and cut a straight path along the outside edge of one of the main squares, making another left at a large intersection. The smell of horses grew stronger as they stopped in front of what was clearly a stable. A set of finely made tack hung from hooks on the outer wall and a young stable hand was in the process of preparing a beautiful dappled grey for an unknown rider.

Katja could not bury her excitement and hurried up to stand at the door with Sadie, her body aching and her breathing laboured, but the realization of why there were here outweighing either.

An older man, his arm in a sling and a blackened bruise beneath one eye, approached and thumped his good hand across his chest. "Captain." He addressed only Farrah.

"The 'Kovakeryon would see her horse."

"Fifth stall. Mind your distance, the beast has as foul a temper as you'll ever see." He flapped his injured arm like a wing and winced. "Damn near put me through the wall it did."

Sadie stepped around him without comment, but Katja gave him a small nod of acknowledgement as she passed, ignoring the fact that he nearly tripped over a small metal bucket in his haste to back away from her.

The stable was larger and more well kept than she was used to seeing, with large shuttered windows that were currently open despite the coolness of the day. The light revealed two dozen stalls, set in long rows that ran the length of the building. The floors were oddly immaculate, with clean straw and brushed stone muffling their footsteps somewhat as they made their way to the fifth stall, as directed.

Katja approached the stall wall calmly, seeing a familiar dark rear end on the other side. The horse almost seemed petulant, facing the back wall of its enclosure and refusing to pay any attention to the goings-on around it.

"Now is that any way to greet an old friend?" She spoke softly, gripping the wall for support as her tired muscles demanded rest. A discontented whicker sounded from the other end of the large creature.

"Charon?" Katja leaned further forward. "Don't be like that my love. I have come as soon as I was able."

Lexa watched from her vantage point in the corner of the long room as the girl called out to the black behemoth that had been terrorizing her personal stable staff for weeks. Gideon, her most experienced trainer, had nearly been killed when he tried to take the beast out for a walk around the corral. He was now out of commission with a fractured arm and a concussion, having been punted backwards clear out of the stall.

The Commander's fingers tensed around the grip of the sword at her belt as Katja unlatched the gate and stepped inside the enclosed space with the horse. Even though the stalls here were roomy, the sheer size of this particular animal made them seem cramped.

If Katja was at all nervous it certainly didn't show. She reached out a hand to stroke Charon's flank, earning an aggressive sounding stomp to which the slight girl merely tsked and laughed. "I have missed you, my ferocious friend." She patted his rump. "They appear to have kept you in good condition in my absence?"

The horse wheeled around to face her, his nostrils flaring and snorting breaths moving the loose hairs at her temples. Farrah took a step forward, alarmed, but Katja raised a hand to stop her. A velveteen nose bumped gently against her cheek as Charon nibbled mischievously at one of the braids in her hair. He lowered his head further, resting against her shoulder so that she could reach to throw her arms around his neck.

No sooner had she done so than he raised his great head, pulling her feet a couple of inches off the floor. Katja let out a startled yelp, followed by more laughter. "Put me down you great oaf!" She released her hold and dropped the small distance to the ground, ending up in a jumbled heap at Charon's forelegs as her knees buckled under her. The horse snorted in concern and snuffled gently at the top of her head, but she merely batted him away and rose awkwardly back to her feet.

"He has not allowed anyone to handle him." Lexa took the opportunity to make herself known, stepping from the shadows to stand in the middle of the aisle. "It seems that you surround yourself with all manner of recalcitrant creatures."

Farrah and Sadie snapped immediately to attention. Katja, with her back to the voice, had time to compose herself before turning with a nod. She settled a hand on Charon's broad nose, her fingers blending perfectly against the ebony hair. She scratched softly and cooed something indecipherable at him as he shuffled nervously. "Some more so than others, Commander."

"It is good to see you up." Lexa began to approach, only to find the horse move to place itself between her and its master. She stopped, shifting her weight between her feet and clearing her throat, looking almost awkward. "Skaikru arrives in four days."

"I will be ready." Katja ducked under Charon's chin and leaned heavily on the wall of the stall, leaving him no room to play protector. His disgruntled huff sounded from over her shoulder. "I have had excellent care."

"As promised."

The Commander, it seemed, was very much in form today. Katja bit back her disappointment, instead turning to her previous companions. "Would you mind waiting outside please? The tight quarters and warm bodies make him nervous."

Farrah sought permission with a quick look to Heda, who gave a small nod. The guard and Sadie retreated back into the cool of the outside, somewhat relieved to be removed from the tension in the stables. Charon stomped anxiously at their movement, his ears flicking rapidly as the click of the door sounded behind them.

Katja simply observed the Commander for a moment, taking in the stiff posture and the squared shoulders with a soft sigh. Without the harsh black of her war paint, Heda looked smaller, younger, more human. Still present were the same high cheekbones and defined jawline that had proven so distracting when first they met, and those grey-green eyes that stared unwaveringly back, tinged now with a hint of uncertainty.

"You may come closer Heda. I do not bite. Him, I can provide no such assurances." She smiled as Charon nibbled at her ear. "He will get used to you in time, I will see to it."

Lexa wasn't particularly sure which of the two intimidating creatures in front of her worried her more. Both bore the same wise, inquisitive expression that had the effect of making her distinctly uncomfortable. She rested a hand on the pommel of her sword as casually as she could and stepped forward, careful to be as steady as possible. She got within ten feet of the stall wall before a warning snort was issued by the horse.

It was strange, to see the girl standing, flushed and healthy looking after having seen her as nothing but a pale, still figure for so many days. Dressed in the winter blacks of the Trikru, as her hair and her hands disappeared into the dark material, the intensity of the green was startling in the light flooding in the nearby open window. Lexa had assumed she would find a weak, struggling ghost of a girl but what stood calmly before her already showed the beginnings of a rather commanding presence.

A dark hand reached out over the wall, palm up, the paleness of the accompanying forearm peeking out from the end of the long-sleeved shirt. When Lexa met the 'Kovakeryon's gaze, a flat, dull green stared back at her.

"I thought we were past that."

"I had hoped so Commander, but sometimes, when you look at me, I can see the unease that still lingers and I think that perhaps this might help. I meant no insult, I don't know what else to do to make myself less…offputting."

"Offputting? Off-putting." Lexa snorted, thinking to herself there was no word less suited to the other woman. "You spoke before about our similarities, and the understandings that should follow them. It is true that I may occasionally seem uncertain. Do not take that as a negative. I have never met anyone like you. All my life you were a myth until you were standing in front of me, filthy and defiant outside the capital. It is a lot to take in."

Lexa placed the fingers of her left hand in the outstretched palm, watching as the black digits wrapped around hers and tugged her gently forward. "As Commander I must be decisive, and was decisive, but I was also wrong. I can admit that now and here, to you. I have mistreated you and yet you continue to believe in me and in this Coalition."

"That kind of purity of thought is difficult to come by. It makes you a bit of an enigma. As do your skills. As do your eyes." Heda approached slowly, allowing the soft pull of Katja's hand to guide her forward. "I like clarity, I like understanding, I like certainty. With you I have none of those things. Perhaps one day I will but I will never get there if you shield your nature from me."

"We need to resolve this, Amin, before the arrival of Skaikru. It would not due to appear uneasy in front of our guests. I need you at your most charismatic. I need you to be focussed solely on steering them towards the Kongeda, not worrying about how you think I feel."

"Heda, I—" Katja revelled in the feeling of Heda's warm, calloused hand in her own, watching light and dark link together in harmony, in balance. So the Commander had been listening to her earlier ramblings. It gave her hope. "I do not understand how things work here. I don't understand your people—"

"Our people."

"Our people. They are upside down to me, reacting with fear and avoidance when previously my touch was a blessing. They shrink away when I want them to draw close." Katja chewed thoughtfully at the inside of her lip. "Things used to be very simple for me. That clarity you spoke of, it was my entire existence. Until the dreams, until you."

"Do you miss your home, your family?"

"As though I have lost a limb, Heda." Katja bowed her head to look at her feet as she kicked a tuft of hay about with the toe of her boot. "If I survive this I hope one day you can meet them. Perhaps then they will understand why I left."

She dropped the mask then, steeling herself to ignore the flash of terror she knew she would see in the Commander. When she raised her head, Heda was directly across from her, her chin close enough to the top of the wall that she could have rested upon it if she so chose.

It was the longest conversation, free of posturing, that two had had since meeting. Perhaps the separating wall of the horse stall provided a measure of security, or the warmth of each other's hand was more welcome in the cool of the air, but both felt a sort of settling, a calmness to the morning that had not been felt for months.

Neither moved. Katja's vision swam and she allowed it, anchored by Lexa's moss-green gaze while everything around them shifted and blurred. She was back in the clearing with the deer, its great antlers dripping red with blood as it regarded her with alarming serenity; then to the edge of a high cliff, where the setting sun behind the Commander obscured her face in shadow; and finally to that day in the arena, where not even the warpaint could mask the fear in Lexa's eyes as she ran panicked across the sand. Katja blinked and it was gone. The smell of horse and hay and leather pervaded her nostrils once more. She was trapped between Charon's hovering discontent and Heda's blatant fascination.

"Better." Lexa stated. "You are not you without them."

"I rarely had reason to hide them before now." Katja looked away, but did not get far before feeling Heda's free hand come up against her chin to direct her back to center.

"Then don't. Not with me."

The Commander continued to stare, transfixed by the swirling emerald that seemed to deepen as she watched. Slowly the lighter shades and curious flickers faded, replaced by greens so dark that they were almost black. There was an edginess to them, a sort of dangerous, feral glint that made Lexa's breath catch in the back of her throat.

Katja could feel Heda's pulse skip through their joined hands,the rhythm like a drug, enticing and euphoric. And so very close. How easy it would be to simply lean those few inches more, to claim what she knew to be hers and put an emphatic end to this little charade.

Uncharacteristically she hesitated, doubting the reception despite what she had seen and felt through the Commander's blood. Her lips parted as though to speak but the moment was lost as Charon, tired of waiting around for a proper introduction, stomped his leg in impatience. The sudden sound startled both of them.

Katja recovered first and laughed lightly, catching a questioning look that she merely shrugged off with a smile. She let the frustration settle to the pit of her stomach like a delicacy and heard Heda quietly clear her throat. Foiled by a horse. That was a new one.

"Apparently I am neglecting my duties. Allow me to introduce you to one of the most willful beasts you will ever meet…this is Charon."

Slowly, Katja rotated the Commander's hand in her own and pulled it further forward, crossing the space between the wall and Charon's neck. The horse let out a nervous whicker, but as Katja pressed Lexa's hand into the tense muscle she spoke to him, the low rolling purr of the Wastelander dialect difficult to decipher. Lexa only caught a few of the words.

"Shhh ai lukot…important to me…shil em op…"

Charon's ears flicked again, though Lexa felt the solid mass beneath her fingers soften slightly. "Is he…like the ravens?"

"No. He is far too — how did you put it…recalcitrant? — for that sort of openness." Kajta brushed a dark forelock out of Charon's eyes and kissed his cheek. "I have never had even a glimpse into that stubborn head. Still we are as connected as any horse and rider could be. He would risk his life to save me, as I would for him."

"He is beautiful." Lexa spread her fingers under Katja's palm, splaying them wider and petting Charon tentatively. The muscles twitched but overall the creature remained calm thanks to continued reassurance from his owner. "He puts my own horses to shame."

"He is an old breed. We have raised them since before the Purges." Katja reluctantly removed her hand from the Commander's and scratched him gently under his chin.

"Suitably intimidating."

Katja laughed. "I have to admit there's something quite satisfying about riding up to someone on a mountain of a horse. He makes a wonderful first impression."

She patted him fondly and he nudged his nose into her hair. With one last scratch, Katja opened the stall door and backed out slowly, keeping eye contact with Charon and silently pleading with him not to have a tantrum. To her relief his tail just swished lazily back and forth as Heda's hand ran down his neck to his massive shoulder. He seemed content enough at her touch, and put at ease by the Commander's slow, deliberate movements.

Her legs felt like rubber. While she wished she could remain with him longer, her time in recovery had left little tolerance for exertion. Katja managed to wobble over to a sturdy bench set against the wall and lowered herself to sit.

A quiet groan caught Lexa's attention and she turned away from the horse to see the girl slumped in relief against the rough wood of the stable wall. Of course…

"Are you all right, Amin?"

"I am fine Commander." Katja leaned back to rest her head against the wall and closed her eyes. "Better than fine actually, just tired."

"I have kept you too long, forgive me. I will call Farrah."

"Please!" Katja's voice carried a note of genuine pleading. "Please Heda do not. I can't bear to be in that room any longer. It's stifling. I have counted the number of bricks in every wall ten times over.."

"You need to rest, regain your strength."

"I find my strength in good company Commander, not soft pillows." Katja cracked one eye open and crossed her legs over at her ankles. "I would rest here a while if you would allow it. The horses are soothing."

To her surprise she saw Heda grab a rickety old chair and drag it roughly across the stones, setting it in front of the bench. The Commander sat, resting her elbows on her knees and regarding her with an unreadable expression.

"Very well, if I may join you."

"It would be my pleasure." Katja sat up slightly, flashing a grin. "I know you must have far more important matters to attend to, but you are invited to remain in my hideaway as long as you are able."

Lexa blinked. It was as though the girl had read her mind. The avalanche of paperwork and administrative nonsense that awaited her in the council chambers piled up by the second. No doubt Titus was flapping about looking for her as they spoke, but the comfortable quiet of the stables and of the Amin's company offered a respite she could not refuse.

"I am teasing, Heda." Katja reached up to the clasp that fastened the dark cloak about her shoulders and undid it, letting it pool along the bench. "And melting in this absurdly heavy outfit that I was swaddled in this morning. You Southerners seem to think that as soon as the days begin to shorten, five new layers of clothing are required."

"Do not blame your minders." The corners of Lexa's mouth quirked up into something approximating a smile. "They were likely fearful that I would have them flayed for allowing you to catch cold."

Katja looked momentarily startled, but then realized, with certain amount of astonishment, that Heda was joking. "They have been wonderful."

"You have won them over." Lexa looked past her through the windows out into the street where Farrah and Sadie could be seen conversing with Gideon. "Two of my most loyal staff fawning over you like devotees. Nyko as well. You have a way with people."

"I'm not quite sure I would call being scrubbed raw and carried around like a sack of potatoes 'fawning', Commander." Katja, in a good mood from being out of her prison of a room, couldn't help but chuckle. "I would hate to see what they would do with someone with less people skills."

"Actually, you very much would." Heda quirked a brow. "I have seen Farrah cleave a man in half as though he were made of butter. And I thought that Sadie was perhaps the only person, servant or otherwise in the entire city who could stand up to you. I'm glad to find that I was not wrong."

"I assure you, you were quite right." Katja shook her head softly, "the little one terrifies me. Avoiding displeasing her ranks at the top of my priority list."

"Oh?"

"Near. Near the top of my priority list." A full laugh this time, echoing down through the rows of stalls. Outside, Farrah turned her head towards the stables and frowned before returning to her conversation.

"And at the top?"

"Skaikru." Katja lied, her responsible self winning out. "Tell me about them. I have seen them from a distance. They are baffling. On one hand they seem weak and naive and on the other, incredibly powerful. Lewan and I saw what they did to your army."

Heda's teeth ground together at the memory of hundreds reduced to smouldering ash. "They know much, and yet at the same time very little. Rash, egotistical, passionate. They see themselves as better than us, superior in technology, intelligence, and would you believe morality? They treat us like vermin. Call us 'Grounders'".

"Their arrogance bothers you."

"Should it not?"

Katja just shrugged and chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her lip. The Commander was not exactly giving her a great deal of confidence that the proposal to join the Kongeda would be well received by their guests.

"How do you think I will be of most help, Heda?" Her mind was already on the coming negotiations, the first real test of the newly restored Council. " From my conversations with Klark they respect neither foreigners nor youth, and I am both of those things."

"Not all of them share the same views. Certainly there are the extremists but there are also more moderate members among their leadership that I believe will at least be open to the discussion."

"Do you have good insight as to their current state of mind?"

"No. The Mountain, as you might guess, severely strained whatever relations we had begun to build. I expect outright hostility from most, and at the very least mistrust from those I would have counted as potential allies. I have not had intel for some time other than to know that they have fortified their position at Arkadia and seem to have adopted a kill first, confirm later approach to visitors."

"Not unexpected given the circumstances."

"The Chancellor —"

"Klark's mother."

"Yes." There was a brief hesitation at the mention of Clarke's name, but the Commander quickly caught herself and plowed forward. "She is….difficult. I believe she is trying to do the best for her people as honourably as possible, but her vision is often clouded by emotion."

"Which is a weakness."

Heda shot Katja a warning look. "Which makes her at times unpredictable."

"And the others?"

"I have met in person. Marcus Kane and Thelonius Jaha. The Chancellor is very close to Kane, and Jaha was the previous Chancellor. Their support will be instrumental not only in convincing her, but also the rest of Skaikru."

"Tensions will be very high. I suspect the hall will be much like a tinderbox, just waiting for one spark to ignite a full blown war."

"You need crowd control."

"I need eyes, and ears, and perceptiveness. You read people well. As Heda I do not have access to everyday conversation and will be trapped on the throne making small talk. I am hoping that their curiosity in you creates opportunity."

"And by 'they' I assume you mean everyone Commander? Skaikru and Kongeda alike?"

"As I said…perceptive." Lexa allowed herself a small smile. "It will be important to know where everyone stands on the matter, not just Skaikru."

"It will be done." Katja nodded crisply.

"That's it? You sound very sure of yourself Amin." Heda was surprised at the decisiveness of the statement. "No further questions? No strategy?"

"With things of this nature it is often best to simply follow your nose, and your ears." Katja grinned and tapped the tip of her nose. "Less bias, more listening. I will do my best, Commander."

"I hope it will be enough." Lexa stood and adjusted the red sash over her shoulder with a frown. Recent reports from the perimeter of Arkadia had not been positive. "I do not mean to cut this short but I must return to the Tower. Thank you, for the break."

"I am here to serve." The formality of the statement was ruined by a cheeky bow as Katja hauled herself far less gracefully to her feet. With a wince, she scooped the cloak from the bench and refastened it across her shoulders. "I should be going as well. The bricks require regular counting."

"You are in fine spirits today."

"Forgive me," the Amin paused mid-motion and looked sheepish, her cheeks reddening in a manner that Lexa found charming. "I have been very forward. I meant no disrespect."

"None taken." No one had had the nerve to speak so casually to her in years. Her conversations, even with those she considered close, consisted mainly of "Sha Heda" or "No Heda" or "Right away Heda". A joke? Rare. Teasing? Unheard of. Lexa hoped it would continue.

Katja, however, was mortified. There was something in the unflinching seriousness of the Commander that brought forth this ridiculous need to see her smile, to break that facade and catch glimpses of the person that she knew lurked underneath. She had succeeded several times today, and it was addictive. The soft half grin, given with the rarity and intimacy of a secret, changed the harsh planes of Heda's face into the soft curves of Lexa's and each time it had felt like a victory.

A hand appeared in front of her, long, lean fingers curled in invitation. She looked up to find Heda watching her closely with a definite smirk.

"Since we are both headed in the same direction, may I escort you back to the Tower?"

"I—" Katja stuttered a moment before taking the offered hand "— as you wish, Commander."

With one last embrace for Charon and a promise to return, the two left the stables and retrieved Farrah and Sadie from outside. When it became clear that the Commander would be accompanying them, they both dropped back several paces and following the two Council members from a respectful distance.

Polis was now fully awake and bustling. The smell of roasting meats and baked goods filled the air as they made their way slowly, retracing their route back to the Tower.

Lexa could feel the eyes of the people on them. Every stall, every passerby had a moment of startled realization before snapping awkwardly to attention with a murmured "Heda!". She did not wander the streets as a rule. Her position did not allow it. And yet here she was in the full light of the morning leading the hottest topic of conversation in the Clans through the city like a tour guide. Their shock was not surprising.

It was good to be seen together, publically. The people needed to see that the 'Kovakeryon was indeed alive and well and also that there appeared to be no animosity between them. She rationalized the warmth in her chest as a reaction to the accomplishment of that duty.

Lexa turned slightly to watch Katja, amused to see that the girl appeared to be trying to see and smell everything in their path while maintaining the propriety demanded by her position . Heda could see the excitement in her, a barely perceptible vibration in the ramrod straight posture as each new thing caught her interest.

She stopped then, placing a hand gently on Katja's forearm and approaching a stall she knew to provide some of the best grilled snacks in the city. The middle aged woman on the other side of the coals swallowed heavily and looked as though she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

"One rounder, one stick."

The woman's hands were shaking uncontrollably as she handed the food over to the Commander, a person she had only ever seen riding through the city with a full retinue of hardened warriors. To have the leader of the Kongeda here, at her stall, was either a dream come true or a nightmare, depending on whether or not Heda found the food pleasing. As the Commander attempted to pay, she shook her head emphatically, but said nothing, having temporarily lost her ability to speak.

"Rounders, fried fish balls. Battered in ale and very popular among the Floukru." Heda handed both morsels over to Katja. "Sticks are, well, sticks. Pretty much any type of meat skewered and chargrilled. Typically better not to ask what they're made of and just enjoy them."

"P-p-p-pork." The stall owner found her voice and just as quickly lost it again as Katja's eyes, burning in excitement, met hers. The woman was so unsettled that she knocked a bowl of spices to the ground.

"Pork. Wonderful." Katja smiled at the woman in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion, only to see the tongs clatter noisily onto the cobbled street.

Heda was having severe difficulty keeping a straight face. She feared the poor woman would wet herself any moment while Katja tried, rather endearingly, to be friendly. It was like watching a panther trying earnestly to carry on a conversation with a mouse.

Katja sniffed at the rounder first, having not had fish since leaving home and certainly unaccustomed to seeing it rolled into the shape of a ball. The sound, though quiet, that accompanied the Amin's first bite was entirely inappropriate. Perfectly crispy batter — not too thick — gave way to flavourful, flaky white fish seasoned well with some sort of herbed cream. It was gone in three bites.

The pork stick, basted in something paradoxically both sweet and savoury, was similarly incredible. Katja did her best not to appear like a ravenous animal, instead nibbling delicately along the edge of the skewer and nodding her approval.

"You," and she reached out slowly to pat the woman's hand, not caring that it was covered in grease and charcoal, "are a miracle worker. Can I ask your name?"

"M-" the woman's face was whiter than a ghost, "m-m-Maron. My name is Maron."

"Maron. It's been my pleasure." Katja could feel the woman's fear, needling and insistent, against her fingertips and did what she could to assuage it, applying her gratitude like a balm. "Thank you for the delicious food. I hope to be back soon to try more."

Maron's features relaxed enough for her to offer a smile, beaming with pride. "It's been an honor. Never thought I'd be feeding the likes of you."

Heda watched the entire exchange closely. The shift in the woman's behaviour was subtle. Less stuttering, more awed. Something had clearly happened in the brief moment that Katja had touched Maron's hand.

She cast a glance at the Amin, who had turned back to her with an almost radiant smile that did terrible things to Lexa's insides. It was almost too easy sometimes, to forget that beneath the beguiling exterior was a power beyond her comprehension. Unfortunately, the more time she spent with the stranger, the more she found herself attracted to the lure of the unknown.

As they made their way back, Heda pointed out other spots of interest in the market area, and key landmarks and their history. Her pride in Polis was obvious and Katja listened with rapt attention as the Commander described her vision of a free city, with free trade, home to anyone that needed one and hub of a Coalition that brought a lasting peace.

It wasn't hard to see how this woman had convinced the Clans to unite beneath this incredibly idealistic notion. Heda spoke with passion, with belief, and with a conviction that was contagious.

Before long they found themselves in front of the great doors of the Tower. Lexa's duties were calling, and Katja could barely support her own weight on her exhausted legs, but both seemed reluctant to part ways. It was Heda who finally stepped away.

"Two thousand, four hundred and twelve." Was all the Commander said as she made her way inside. "East wall."

Farrah and Sadie looked confused, but Katja ducked her head to hide a smile. Heda was correct. The east wall of her room, against which the headboard of the bed was set, had precisely two thousand, four hundred and twelve bricks.

It took hours to count them.