Author's Note: Apologies for the VERY late update. I just started a new job that sucks up the majority of my time and this chapter's word count is over 15K, making it the longest one yet. For those keeping track, Buffy and ASoiaF references at various points. Thank you as always for the support. Comments and reviews are *so* appreciated.

There's a story the Trikru tell each other, about the jewels they find buried beneath the twisted roots of great pines. Clarke spots one the year she turns six, on a walk with Kolya in the weak winter sunshine, a glint of warm gold on an otherwise gray day. The soil was dark and damp but the jewel glowed, glowed from the inside out, and even though Kolya wouldn't stop complaining about the cold, Clarke found herself drawn to it. Her nomon had one that she wore on a cord around her neck, a small jewel carved into the shape of a hammer, but Clarke didn't reach for it because it was as bright as the sunbut because of the creature trapped within.

Four wings and six legs, large eyes that seemed to stare at her through the jewel's golden glow. It was warm to the touch despite the freezing temperature around them. She felt a kinship with it, this creature that was also trapped by circumstances beyond its choosing.

Behind her, Kolya had gasped, his breath crystalizing in the frigid air. "Keryon graun-diyo," he'd whispered. Soul stone.

Her knowledge of Trigedasleng had still been limited then, and she hadn't understood his words. "Chit?" What?

"Em keryon," he's whispered. "Em bilaik raun yu." Its soul is part of you.

"Ai nau get in." I don't understand.

Kolya had sighed, finally switching to English. "When an animal is trapped in the amber, it leaves a piece of its soul inside." He'd looked at Clarke. "When you touched it, it took a piece of you too." "Osir na gaf in shil op em." We need to keep it safe."

Together they'd dug a hole and buried it in the shadow of the tree's barren branches, buried it deep beneath layers of soil and leaves and broken sticks.

Kolya had patted her dirty hand. "Nau yu keryon ste klir. Yu ste klir." Now, your soul is safe – you are safe. He had been meticulous about smoothing down the dirt to hide the cache. If anyone found the stone, they would have a piece of her soul too – they could make her do things she didn't want to do.

Clarke's reminded of that winter's day as she meets Lincoln's unfocused stare. The whites of his eyes are streaked with broken blood vessels, but she thinks she sees something more in the golden-brown of his irises. She looks into Lincoln's eyes and for a second she sees him, her bro kom tombon – brother of her heart – sees the gentle ikeryon/i that has been her dearest friend since the day they met. The Lincoln she loves is trapped inside what the Maunon made him, like the dragonfly in the amber, but this time she can set it free.

Lincoln growls when she approaches and strains against his bindings, teeth bared as he lunges at her. Clarke swallows down her fear. No matter how far away he seems, the Lincoln she knows is in there somewhere. She just has to find him.

"What happened to his leg?" He's favoring his right side and even in the dim light, his pants leg is dark with blood.

Octavia looks away. "I shot him."

Bellamy quickly jumps to her defense. "It was the only way to subdue him."

Clarke doesn't comment. She knows how much Octavia loves Lincoln, knows she wouldn't do anything to harm him unless absolutely necessary. She bites her lip as she continues to study him, wanting a better look but unwilling to risk her own safety. There's something about his neck that's bothering her, but she can't get close enough without the risk of his teeth chomping into her throat.

"This might help." Bellamy holds up an electronic lasher. "It will buy you some time to examine him."

Clarke looks to Octavia for permission. She remembers the last time they were in this place, the smell of blood in the air and the echoing thwack of the belt flaying open Lincoln's chest. She remembers feeling like she took each blow herself. It will be the same for Octavia if they agree to Bellamy's plan and she wants her friend to be prepared.

"Okay," Octavia says. She lifts her chin and blinks the tears from her eyes. "Do it."

Bellamy squeezes his sister's shoulder then walks towards Lincoln, the lasher's tip glowing a soft blue. He takes a breath and Clarke watches the pull of muscle in his shoulders as he sucks in the air and releases it, sends a hissing jolt of electricity into Lincoln's chest. He slumps back, head sagging as he hangs loosely from the knotted seatbelts. Bellamy pokes him with the inactive lasher. Lincoln doesn't react.

"He should be out for a good thirty minutes." Bellamy puts down the lasher and motions for Octavia to come over. "Let's get started."

They lay Lincoln on the ground and latch the seatbelts to bolts in the floor. Octavia wants to put his head in her lap, but a stern look from Bellamy has her doing otherwise, and she tucks a blanket under his head instead. It's bright orange, from the bunker where Bellamy laid himself bare, and it gives Clarke a bit of encouragement. If she could make something good out of that terrible day, she can do the same here.

She quickly cleans and bandages Lincoln's leg then studies her friend, searches for the man she knows is trapped inside. Despite the cuts and bruises covering his body, in sleep he almost looks like the Lincoln she knows. "How long has he been like this?"

The Blake siblings exchange a look. "At least three days," Bellamy says while Octavia worries her bottom lip. "It's only gotten worse since we found him."

Clarke gestures at Bellamy to hold the lamp closer and after a moment's hesitation he obeys, crouches down on Lincoln's right side while she kneels on his left. "Can you describe his symptoms to me?"

Bellamy frowns. "You've seen the Reapers – you know what he was like."

Octavia braves her brother's wrath to brush her fingers over Lincoln's forehead. "But then it wore off. He's sweaty and feverish and won't stop shaking. He threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach."

Clarke searches for clues to unlocking what's wrong with Lincoln. They're familiar, the things Octavia described, but just beyond her reach. She lays a hand on Lincoln's forehead. His skin is damp and the fever is strong, but it's the strange mark on his neck that catches her attention. It's dark and pulsing, spreading like a spider down his throat from a deep puncture wound. She's trying to determine the source of the wound when it clicks, the shakes and the fever and the white film coating his lips.

Once a gona named Dima came back from a clash with the Azgeda with an arrow embedded deep in the flesh of his knee. Nyko cleaned it well and sewed the wound, but the pain persisted, made it hard for Dima to walk or wield his spear. Nyko gave him laudanum to ease the ache, just until he learned to live with the pain, but Dima took more than he needed. The laudanum went missing and there was a different kind of glazed look in Dima's eyes, until Nyko tied him to a bed while the gona shook and sweat with fever until his system was clean. But while he was free of the laudanum's effects, Dima was still a slave to his addiction and they couldn't trust him to stay in tonDC, to keep away from the medicine, not to steal or kill for just another drop. Soon after, Indra sent him to the western Trikru where there were only herbs for treating disease. It was years before Dima came home for a short visit, unable to remain in a place that sheltered his demons. Nyko has used the laudanum sparingly since.

Clarke doesn't know what drug Lincoln craves, but she recognizes the symptoms well. "I've seen this before. He's in withdrawal."

"Withdrawal from what?" Bellamy asks.

"I don't know." She points to the puncture wound. "But it explains his symptoms and maybe even his behavior. It's the drug that made him a Reaper."

Octavia's eyes are filled with hope. "So you ican/i fix him."

When Dima writhed in agony in Nyko's hut, they had what was necessary to ease his pain, gradually weaning him off the laudanum. Clarke doesn't know what drug Lincoln craves and she doesn't have the tools to ease his agony. She doesn't know if he'll survive being cut off completely and without warning.

She tries not to let her concern show as she meets Octavia's gaze. "I don't know."

"But you've done this before!"

"It was different then. I knew – "

"What do you need?" Bellamy interrupts.

"Keep him comfortable and hydrated." She lets Bellamy help her to her feet, then turns to Octavia and looks her square in the eye. "I can't make any promises."

Octavia nods briskly, her fierce expression at odds with the fear in her eyes. "What do we do now?"

Clarke glances at their slumbering patient. "We wait."

They wait through the morning and into the afternoon, until the early evening darkness signals the late hour. Lincoln wakes and pulls at his restraints, pale foam leaking from his mouth. Octavia talks to him in a soft, even voice, random stories about her life on the Ark, but the steadiness in her tone seems to calm him. Or maybe it's Octavia herself. He seems more like his old self whenever she's near.

The sun has just slipped from the sky when Clarke shrugs on her pack and pulls Bellamy aside. "I need to go."

He glances at his sister, sitting a careful distance from Lincoln and humming a sweet tune as she repairs a rip in his shirt. According to Bellamy, it's a skill they learned from their mother, a habit Octavia embraces when she needs a distraction from the real world. Clarke follows his gaze. Octavia has been strong, a calm, steady presence, but Clarke knows she can only hang on for so long. She wishes she could be there for her.

"We need you here. What if something goes wrong? You're the only one that knows what to do."

"I can't," she says, lets him hear the regret in her voice. "My mom is going to be furious when she realizes that I've been gone all day."

"It's after dark."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "I know these woods better than you. I'll be fine."

Bellamy sighs and tugs her towards him, rests his hands against the small of her back. "Until tomorrow."

She pushes to her tiptoes and kisses him. "Mebi oso na hit chot op nodataim." He looks at her curiously. "May we meet again," she says and kisses him again.

"Mebi oso na hit chot op nodataim," he repeats and she smiles up at him, confident in their reunion the next day.

There's no lecture waiting when she returns to camp, or at least none from her mom. Johan and Rivo are furious that she left without informing them, but she hesitates in telling them about Lincoln. If he dies at the dropship, the blame could easily fall on the Skaikru and give Lexa the casus belli she's been searching for.

"Ai don kom ai houmon," she says.

Johan grins suggestively, but Rivo's reaction is more serious. "We are here to protect you. Should anything go wrong, we will be held responsible."

"I understand," she says because she does understand their concerns – it's the same reason she keeps Lincoln's struggle a secret – but it doesn't mean she'll put them first. They'll survive any punishment Lexa forces on them, but she won't be the reason the Skaikru go to war.

Rivo reluctantly lets her pass to the gate and she stops by the med-bay to gather supplies for her return trip in the morning.

Jackson finds her by the supply closet and fixes her with a hard stare. "I covered for you today. If your mom asks, you were doing inventory in here."

Clarke smiles gratefully. "Thanks. I owe you one."

He looks at the bandages and antiseptic that she's holding. "I said you were taking inventory, not stealing it."

She hesitates, unsure if she wants to let Jackson in on her secret, but he did lie for her today, even though he barely knows her and doesn't owe her anything. There are worse things than her mom finding out about Lincoln; if anything, they could use her help. "Bellamy and Octavia found a Trigedakru friend of mine. The Mountain Men got him addicted to something and he's in withdrawal. I'm helping him through it." She pleads with Jackson to understand. "You can't tell anyone. If he dies and my commander finds out, she'll start a war. You won't win."

Jackson stares a moment, then reaches behind her. "You'll need this too" He adds a bag of saline and a length of tubing to the pile in her arms. "Dehydration is a major concern." He looks at her curiously. "Have you ever started an IV?" She shakes her head and he smiles kindly. "Let's get you ready."

He shows her how to hook up the bag to the tubing, to find a vein and insert the needle so she doesn't cause an air bubble. Clarke soaks up the information and tucks it away. With some trial and error, she and Nyko can probably create a similar technology for the Trikru.

After, she stops by her mom's quarters to say goodnight. Abby looks exhausted and distracted, but she still has a smile for her daughter.

"How was your day?" she asks and tucks a lock of hair behind Clarke's ear.

"Uneventful," Clarke says, chest tightening around the lie. It's getting harder, lying to her mother, when Abby's been increasingly honest with her. "How was yours?"

Her mom sighs, the weak light drawing attention to the dark circles under her eyes. "Jaha is trying to cull favor with the citizens. More and more of them are supporting his asinine plan to find the City of Light."

Clarke wouldn't wish a journey through the Dead Zone against her worst enemy but it's a good distraction from the lies she keeps telling. So long as her mom's attention is on Jaha, she isn't tracking Clarke's comings and goings. "I'll let you get some rest."

Abby smiles wearily and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

She does sleep sweet, wrapped in the warmth of blankets that smell of Bellamy and feeling rested and determined when she wakes with the sun. She double checks her pack then slips into the cool dawn, her footsteps silent as she creeps through the slumbering camp. She scratches at a tent flap beside the engineering shed and waits until Wick emerges, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Again?"

"Last time, I swear."

"Promises, promises," Wick scoffs with a shake of his head, but doesn't hesitate in tugging on his boots. Clarke follows him into engineering, watches while he turns on a computer and types something into the keyboard. "You have five minutes."

She clears the gate in less than three, adjusts her pack and slips into the woods. Almost immediately, she can tell that something's wrong. There's a feeling in the air, catching in her hair and brushing over her skin – the world is not right. She doesn't stop walking though. She's Trikru, trained personally by Indra's hand, and she isn't stopping because of a feeling. She can handle whatever threat comes her way.

It comes soon enough, a branch snapping under an interloper's foot. She bends down as if to tie her boot and slides her knife into the sleeve of her jacket so the hilt presses into her inner arm and she can feel the bite of the blade against her wrist. Slowly, she rises to her feet to confront her attackers.

They're two Skaikru men with hatred in their eyes. One holds a knife and the other an ax and both seem inclined to use them on her. She slowly raises her hands and pastes on her most innocent smile. The more they underestimate her, the better her chances, so she pretends they're a team her mom sent to drag her home.

"If you've come to take me back to Camp Jaha, I'm not going."

The men exchange a look and laugh, hard and ugly, fingers tightening on the hilts of their weapons. "The last place you'll be going is the Ark.

Clarke fights to keep her smile from falling. "There's no need for violence. I'll come willingly."

"We're not here on official business." The man's fingers tighten around the handle of his ax. "This is personal."

Carefully, she takes a step back. "I don't know you."

The man with the knife steps forward. "But we know you." He tests the blade's weight in his hand. "On the Ark, every crime is a capital crime. My wife was floated because she stole extra rations for the orphanage. You killed a kid and here you are."

Clarke sucks in a breath at his mention of Finn, but doesn't lose her grip on her weapon. "My son died because of your people," the man with the ax sneers. "We found him at the dropship, nailed to a tree. He didn't ask to come here and you slaughtered him like an animal. Yet here you are."

"I'm sorry for your losses. I never wanted anyone to die." Both men are advancing on her, but the ax worries her more. Its owner's arms are thick and beefy; he has the strength required for the blade to hit its mark. She needs to keep them talking until she can figure out how to escape.

"Then you're going to be disappointed." He raises the ax. "Today, the killing starts with you."

There's a noise from beyond the men, the sharp click of rifle's safety turning off, and then Murphy's stepping from the woods, his gun trained on the men's backs. "If you want to live, put down your weapons."

The men stare at him. "Traitor," the man with the knife hisses, but Murphy just shrugs, fingers steady on the trigger.

"Maybe, but you're no better." He raises the rifle a little higher. "I won't ask again: put down your weapons."

Slowly, the men put their weapons on the ground and Clarke kicks the legs out from the man with the ax. She pulls a length of rope from her pack and expertly ties his hands. Murphy keeps his rifle trained on the man with the knife while she ties him up too. She pushes both men to sitting positions, the knife's blade still poking the flesh of her wrist. She's glad to have it there, but thankful she didn't have to use it. Disgusting as these men are, she doesn't want to kill anyone.

Murphy looks to her. "What do you want to do with them?"

Trikru justice is swift and merciless and bringing bloodied, mangled corpses through Camp Jaha's gate will start a war, the one thing Clarke has been trying to avoid. She has no choice but to let them remain whole.

She tugs them to their feet and shoves them in the direction of the camp. "The Chancellor will decide."

The walk is short and silent but for an occasional grunt when Murphy pokes one of the men with his rifle to get him moving faster. Clarke prepares to reenter the camp. Raven's Gate isn't an option, not without advance warning, and her plan was always to return through the main gate.

Rivo perks up as she approaches, his shrewd, sharp gaze locking on the prisoners. He takes in their bound hands and furious expressions, the extra knife and ax tucked into Murphy's belt. "Natronas!" he hisses.

"I'm fine," she insists, gestures down her body to show that she's unharmed. He doesn't look convinced, hands balling into fists at his sides. He reaches for his weapon as Murphy leads the prisoners to the Guard.

Johan joins them, all hints of amusement gone from his face. "Yu laik Leksakru," he says. "Emo souda gon emo gyon au gon." They must pay for their betrayal.

"It was a misunderstanding," she insists. "The Skaikru will punish them."

He shakes his head and Rivo stands firm at his side, the first time the men have truly seen eye to eye. "Blood must have blood," he says and Rivo echoes the sentiment, his voice thick with anger. "Ai na tel op heda." He looks at Rivo. "Yu na em ship op." I will inform the Commander. You will keep her safe.

"No laksen na kom au em," Rivo says, like she can't defend herself, like she isn't even there to voice her own opinion. No harm will come to her.

She tugs on Johan's arm as he moves towards his horse. "Disha na stot au wor." iThis will start a war./i

His eyes are bright with excitement. "Emo don trana frag yu op, fisa. Emo souda gada in oso zog raun nodotaim." They tried to kill you, healer. We must have our vengeance.

Clarke wants to scream as climbs atop his horse and kicks at his mount until all that's left is a cloud of dust. She's literally watching her hard work ride away and there's nothing she can do about it.

David Miller comes over. "The prisoners are secured. Are you sure you're okay?"

Clarke nods absently, too focused on watching the last bits of dust fade into the fall sunshine. "Get your camp ready. The Commander just got her war."

The Chancellor is stone-faced while David Miller delivers his report, but the nervous twitch of her left knee betrays her outward calm. Rivo's presence doesn't help either. He'd insisted on following Clarke into the meeting room, his knife openly strapped to his thigh.

Abby turns to her daughter when the Lieutenant finishes, eyes flashing with annoyance. "You weren't supposed to leave camp without permission."

"That's what you're going to focus on?"

"We made a deal!"

They face each other, chests heaving slightly, both believing they were right and unwilling to back down.

"We need to leave now," Lieutenant Miller says to Abby. "The people are ready. They just need your go-ahead."

Byrne disagrees. "Where would we go? The City of Light?"

Another guard laughs and makes a joke about Jaha. More voices break in, all sharing opinions that don't matter in the least. War is upon them no matter how they proceed.

"It's too late," Clarke says softly, but something in her tone causes the room to fall silent. "A rider already left for the Commander's camp. You have no choice but to fight for your lives."

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Clarke thinks the man's name is Denby, one of the guards that originally left with Chancellor Kane.

Rivo steps forward, his jaw tight with anger. "Two Skaikru tried to kill Klark – "

"They acted alone – " Denby interjects, but Rivo has no patience for his excuses.

"She is daughter of a village leader, in service to our Commander. Your debt must be paid in blood."

Abby turns to her daughter. "Honey, what can we do?"

Slowly, Clarke meets her mom's worried gaze. "Pray."

The shouting erupts again, with David Miller arguing to leave and Byrne and Denby arguing to stay. Clarke grabs Rivo's arm and pulls him into the shadow of what used to be Mecha Station.

"Ai nou gaf in wor." I don't want a war.

Rivo is unmoved by her pleas. "Emo don trana raunon kom Hedakru. Em bailaik emo lan op java don heda em." They threatened a member of the Commander's kru. It is as if they raised a spear to the Commander herself.

"Our focus needs to be on getting our people out of Mount Weather. We need each other to do that!"

A hint of sympathy flashes in Rivo's eyes and he even switches to English to respond. "We both know the choice isn't up to you."

Clarke stomps away, unsure of where she's going until she spots Murphy sitting alone at in the eating area. Rivo lets her go but stands guard a few yards away.

Murphy sips from a dented metal flask that he offers when she slumps into the chair opposite his. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She glares at him even as she takes a deep pull of his drink. It's moonshine, like she'd anticipated, and it burns all the way down. She coughs and sputters, but still takes another sip. "Brave, Princess," Murphy says with a laugh.

"Don't call me that."

He shrugs and takes back the flask. "I slayed dragons for you, didn't I?"

She regards him critically, sees through the indifferent expression that he wears. Even his cruel beauty can't distract from the pain she sees in his eyes. It's sadness and desperation, a need to belong. She remembers feeling the same way when she first landed on earth.

"Why were you there?" She keeps her voice soft and gentle, tries a different tactic than accusations. He did come to her aid just a few hours ago.

He plays with the lid of the flask. "Didn't like the looks of those guys."

"So you chose to follow them?"

He shrugs again. "Bellamy asked me to keep an eye on you."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at Bellamy's predictability, focuses instead on Murphy's dedication to his task. She'd left camp when the light was only creeping through the sky – it would have required staying up all night for Murphy to catch her wouldbe assassins at work.

"Maybe," she says. "But he didn't ask you to risk your life to protect mine." She looks kicks him lightly under the table so he'll finally look at her. "Why did you help me?"

Murphy pauses a moment, still playing with the flask, the pushes it aside and pulls up his shirt to expose the jagged scar running across his stomach. "You saved my life. It was only fair that I save yours."

Clarke leans in closer to examine the scar, the memories of the battle flashing through her mind. She'd been so angry at Anya for keeping her behind the lines. She remembers the force she'd used to slap the bandage on Murphy's wound.

Now that she has his attention he doesn't look away, lets her see the yearning in his eyes. She remembers a scared little girl cowering behind Indra her first day on the ground. She got to start over; Murphy should to.

"Thank you," she says and sticks out a hand, the way she's seen the Skaikru do so many times, and patiently waits for Murphy to shake it. His grip is stronger than she expected but firm – committed – and when they lower their hands some of the sadness is gone from his eyes.

He insists on walking her back to Bellamy's tent, ignoring Rivo on her other side, and gives her a sympathetic look when they find Abby pacing the length of the small space.

Abby throws her arms around her daughter the moment they're alone and runs her hands through Clarke's hair, along her cheeks, anywhere she thinks her daughter might be hurt.

"I'm fine, Mom. Really."

Abby pulls back but continues to study her. "You promised."

"I didn't have a choice! Someone I love needed help and I couldn't bring him here. Not Bellamy," she adds when she sees Abby's concerned look. "My bro kom tombon." She tells Abby what she found at the dropship. "He's a Reaper, one of the Mountain's monsters, but only because they made him one. He's withdrawing from some kind of drug and when it's out of his system, I think I can get him back. I was bringing saline and bandages to him when those men found me." She represses a shudder from thinking of what would have happened if Murphy hadn't shown up. There would have been so much more blood on her hands.

"When this is over, I'll see what I can do for your friend." Abby sighs heavily. "In the mean time…there has to be something we can offer, an agreement we can make…" she trails off when Clarke shakes her head. "Your mother is a leader of your people. You must have sway with her…" she trails off again.

Clarke searches for the right words to describe Indra. "My nomon loves me," she finally says. "But she is Trikru more than she is anything else and she will want justice for the attempt on my life." She sighs. "The Commander, I'm part of her personal entourage. She will not take this lightly either."

"So we go to war." Abby's voice is resigned, her expression defeated.

Clarke's voice is equally resigned. "We go to war."

The afternoon passes achingly slow. Clarke feels like she can't catch her breath because she knows what's coming, listens for the clomp of horse hooves in the dirt and a war horn piercing the quiet. She steps out of the med-bay to get some air and swears she sees the first flickering torch. The wide valley beneath the camp will be filled with Trikru by the time night falls.

Some patients are still wary, but most are used to her presence in the med-bay, even sympathetic given her ordeal that morning, and she has a steady line of miserable looking cold sufferers at her station.

The Skaikru have quickly succumbed to both weather and germs, and Jackson's worried about their compromised immune systems. "We all grew up breathing sterile, processed air. No one has the antibodies to fight whatever's down here."

Much of the camp is suffering from their first cold and while there's not much Clarke can do to cure their illnesses, she tries to make them more comfortable, distributing cup upon cup of chamomile tea laced with garlic and ginger. It doesn't taste great but there isn't enough time to make tinctures and her patients just want relief. Most swallow down the foul tasting tea without complaint.

Her pot is almost empty when noise erupts from the yard, and even through the din of people in the med-bay, she clearly identifies the angry voice.

Bellamy's fury rivals Raven's rage. "Get your fucking hands off me," he roars and then there's a loud crack, something heavy and solid colliding with his head. By the time she makes it outside, he's collapsed in the dirt just outside the brig.

"What happened?"

Byrne rubs her sore jaw. "He attempted to attack the prisoners. We were forced to subdue him."

Clarke shoots her a dubious look and kneels at Bellamy's side to check his head wound. Nothing is broken and he likely won't have a concussion, but there's a nasty bruise forming on his temple and blood trickling from a nasty looking cut.

"Take him to the brig," Byrne orders and Clarke doesn't protest as two guards drag Bellamy away. She can deal with his idiocy after she sews him back together. She gathers needle and thread from the med-bay and hurries after the guards.

Bellamy comes to just when Abby storms through the door, his head in Clarke's lap while she strokes the hair from his brow, waiting for him to wake before dressing the wound. Maybe having a needle only an inch from his eye will make him think twice about playing the hero for a girl that didn't need saving.

He blinks at the Chancellor as Clarke helps him sit up. "They tried to kill – "

"I know what they tried to do!" Abby's face is red, her chest heaving. She sucks in a breath to regain her composure, her voice calmer when she speaks again. "We have rules here, systems in place to maintain order. You can't take the law into your own hands."

Shakily, Bellamy pushes to his feet. Blood still seeps from his head but he looks determined as he faces his Chancellor. "I heard what happened and I…" he breaks off, looks away as he swallows hard. "It won't happen again. You have my word."

Abby continues to study him, her gaze critical as she takes in his damaged face. "I was wrong about you once. Don't prove me right."

He smiles sheepishly after Abby leaves. "Lay it on me."

She helps him to a chair and preps the procedure, sterilizing the wound and ignoring his pained hiss from the alcohol. "I don't need rescuing."

His cheeks flush a dark red. "Someone tried to kill you."

"And you attacked the Guard when we're on the brink of war! It's over – we need to think to the future."

Bellamy is quiet as she finishes the last of the stitches and covers the wound with a bandage. "For so long, the only person I cared about was Octavia, keeping her fed and clothed…" His voice drops to a whisper. "Keeping her safe. But now you matter in the same way. I knew something was wrong when you didn't show up at the dropship but an attempt on your life? That was more than I could take."

The last of Clarke's frustration fades away. She remembers what it was like when she thought he was dead, the pressure in her chest, feeling like their life together had ended before it had the chance to begin. She can't blame him for feeling the same way.

She slides into his lap and cups his cheek in her hand, sucks in a breath when he turns his head and presses a kiss to her palm. "You know how important you are to me."

He doesn't phrase it as a question, so confident he is in her answer, and she understands implicitly, how much she can feel for someone she's only just met.

"I know," she says softly and leans in to kiss him. "But next time, let's talk about it, okay? I need you with me in this."

He drops his forehead so it rests against hers. "I'm yours as long as you'll have me."

"That might be sooner than later. The Trikru know about what happened. Their army approaches as we speak."

"I figured as much. What can we do?"

"Lexa has been looking to start a war since your ship came to the ground. Now she has a reason."

"Lexa?"

"The Heda – Commander. I know her well."

Bellamy's eyebrows lift. "How well?"

Clarke swats at him. "Not like that. I'm her resident healer and part of her inner circle. I might be able to get through to her."

"Enough to stop a war?"

She shivers in the cradle of Bellamy's arms. "Even I don't have that kind of power."

"Whatever happens, you have me."

"That's more than enough." He moves in for a kiss and she lets him for half a second before she pulls back, ignores his disappointed groan. "But if you ever send Murphy to creep up on me in the woods again, you won't get anymore of the good stuff."

He laughs, that deep, rumbling laugh that she loves, and she buries her smile in the crook of his neck. She cherishes that laugh, the joy in his voice. War is coming – she might never hear it again.

The sun is just setting when the Trikru army arrives and it's an impressive sight, torches and tents for as far as the eye can see, and even if they can't be seen, Clarke knows there are scouts trekking silently through the woods, watching the Skaikru's every move through their wire fence. She stands behind that fence with Bellamy and her mother, trying and failing to add up the number of tents.

"We should send a dignitary," Abby says. "Should it be me? Byrne? Who would be best?"

Clarke steps forward. "I'll go."

Bellamy grasps her arm. "I'll go with you."

She wants nothing more than to greet her people with her houmon at her side, but now isn't the time. She can already see Lexa's disgust that a member of her entourage would take a chance on love.

"I need to do this alone."

"Clarke – " Abby starts but she's already striding towards the gate. Bellamy stays at his place by the fence, their earlier conversation bearing fruit. He'll respect her wishes even if he wants to fight battles at her side.

Rivo escorts her from the camp and to the Trikru lines. Lukas, a gona from Anya's village, glares as they approach the entrance.

"Natrona," he hisses and Clarke bites her lip to keep from lashing out. She's so tired of being blamed for things beyond her control.

"Em laik ona heda shil op," Rivo says in return. iShe is under the Commander's protection/i. He casually rests his hand against the knife in his belt.

Lukas sneers at her. "Skaikru niron." Skaikru lover.

"Ai no laik natrona. Ai laik klirir." I'm not a traitor. I'm a peacemaker. She crosses her arms over her chest and meets his hostile stare with one of her own.

Another voice cuts in. "Mounin, Klark kom Trigedakru."

She faces the scarred, bearded gona. "Heya, Gustus."

Lukas lowers his eyes and moves aside so she can pass into the camp. Gustus regards her critically. "You have come for the Commander?"

"Sha. Teik klir." To make peace.

Gustus says nothing but she catches the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way he purses his lips. He's a loyal soldier, but he doesn't like this plan. Clarke tries not to make anything of it as she strides towards Lexa's tent.

Indra's dark eyes soften in relief when she sees that Clarke is unharmed. "Ai nona. Ai laik hapo yu laik kik raun." My daughter. I'm glad you are well. She even squeezes Clarke's hand, the most affectionate Clarke's ever seen her in public. She squeezes back to let Indra know that she's okay.

Lexa looks less enthused. "The Skaikru must pay for what they did."

Clarke shakes her head. "Lexa, please. They want peace. Don't punish an entire people because of the actions of a few."

"What would you have me do? They made camp in our territory without permission. They burned three hundred warriors alive." Lexa's challenging stare pulses with fury. "I accepted your death ritual, Klark, one life in exchange for eighteen, and this is how they repay me? I cannot look past these crimes."

"We need them to get our people out of Mount Weather."

Rudi, another advisor, steps forward. "Anya is dead. We have only your word that there are Trikru in the Maunon."

Despite her best efforts to control it, her eyes narrow in annoyance. To be accused of lying is tantamount to being called a traitor and she's already endured that today. She won't let this insult stand. "I am no liar! Ai Klark kom Trigedakru. I want only peace, to have our people back." She makes eye contact with Indra. "To get my brother back."

"Yu bro stedaunon – "

"I can prove it."

"How?" Lexa demands.

After he was released from the brig, Bellamy sent Murphy to fetch Lincoln and Octavia from the dropship. Lincoln's symptoms worsened during the night and according to Octavia, at one point his heart stopped. They restarted it using the electronic lasher, a variation on something they'd seen in a film from before the cataclysm, but it worked because when Lincoln opened his eyes, they were warm and gold and clear.

"Welcome back," Octavia said and Bellamy knew it was time to bring Lincoln home. They were still en route when she left, but Clarke has faith in her friend, and the woman that loves him, that she will see the Lincoln she knows when she returns.

"You will have to come to the Skaikru camp," Clarke says and a loud racket fills the tent, everyone talking at once as they debate the merits of the proposal.

"Silence!" Lexa holds up her hand and signals for quiet. "Let Klark speak."

"The Reapers – I know how to make them Trikru again."

"More lies," Gustus interrupts. "Every Reaper we have captured died within hours."

"You're right," Clarke concedes. Just last year she'd watched a gona named Gleb convulse on Nyko's operating table. His hair had been long and corded, hiding any marks on his neck, but she vividly remembers his heart giving out. They'd had no way of helping him. Until now. "But the Skaikru have the tools to save our people. Lincoln kom Trigedakru's heart stopped, yet he lives. And he is no longer a Reaper."

Or so she hopes. Until she sees for herself, there's no way of knowing if Bellamy's plan worked.

Lexa's forehead knots while she contemplates, ignoring the various generals and advisors arguing around her. "I will visit the Skaikru camp," she finally says, again holds up a hand for quiet when the room erupts in dissent. "If what Klark says is true, I will consider peace. We have lost too many warriors to the Ripas. We will need them to bring down the Maunon."

"And if Klark has told us lies?" Gustus's expression is smug.

The Commander's cool blue gaze locks on Clarke. "Then she is Klark kom Skaikru."

Gustus looks satisfied and Indra looks horrified and Clarke feels a strange combination of terror and relief, because no matter the outcome, it will be over. Trikru or Skaikru, it will be over. She always knew she'd have to make a choice. She never thought someone would make it for her.

They arrive at Camp Jaha and the choice still hangs over her head.

Lincoln is exhausted and bruised, but very much alive, the burn mark on his chest illustrating how hard Octavia fought to save him. She won't leave his side, even when Lexa and her retinue crowd into the med-bay to see the former Reaper.

There had almost been an altercation at the gate when Clarke arrived with four armed gonas and a slip of a girl wearing war paint and carrying a sword, but Abby's leadership had prevailed and she'd let them into the camp, weapons and all, so long as they didn't try to slip their escorts. The med-bay is crowded with guards and guns and the patient sitting wearily in his bed.

Lexa waits while Corban, a healer from Anya's village, examines Lincoln. No one from tonDC accompanied her to Camp Jaha, not even Indra. Only outsiders will determine Lincoln's fate.

Corban points to the puncture wound on Lincoln's neck. "I saw this on Egan. It is the mark of a ripa."

"Yet his heart beats," Lexa says, peering closely at the burn on Lincoln's chest.

"My heart stopped but Octavia brought me back to life." Lincoln's voice is raspy and hoarse but steady. He takes Octavia's hand and presses it to the burn over his heart. "Let her people save ours the way she saved me."

"You can do the same for the others?" Lexa asks.

"We can," Abby says. "The kids explained what happened and we can replicate it here." She smiles hopefully. "We can bring your people back."

Lexa studies Lincoln another moment. "We accept your peace offering, Abi kom Skaikru."

Her mom lets out a relieved breath, but Clarke knows her commander, sees the trick behind her diplomatic words. She might have accepted the Skaikru's terms but it doesn't mean Lexa won't demand her own.

A threatening light gleams in Lexa's eyes. "In return, you will give us the bagas that tried to kill Klark. With their deaths, we will have our peace."

Abby blinks in shock. "What? But you said – "

Her pleas fall on deaf ears. Lexa is already striding from the room, leaving Gustus to deliver her ultimatum. "You have until dawn." He looks at Clarke. "You will stay to ensure their cooperation."

"That can't be it!" Abby's mouth is slightly agape as she watches them go.

Clark nods numbly. Once again, she came so close only to lose it all in the last moment. She'd brokered a deal, offered Lexa something she wanted, only for the Commander to demand more. She closes her eyes as a sudden pain threatens to split her skull. No matter how much she gives, they always want more.

"Yu get in chit na kom au," Lincoln says, his expression grave. You know what will happen.

"Womplei kom thauz kodon," she whispers. Death by a thousand cuts.

"What are you saying?" Octavia asks. Her Trigedasleng is getting better, but not fluent enough to understand the conversation. "What will they do to those men?"

"Because she serves the heda, Clarke belongs to them, to every Trikru man and woman, girl and boy. Because she belongs to them, they will all have a turn with the knife."

"No," Abby says. "I won't surrender our people to be tortured. We need to think of something else they want."

She calls in the Council to discuss a solution. Sinclair suggests a trial while Byrne argues for war. Denby emphasizes the thousands of soldiers gathered in the valley.

Bellamy waits while Clarke paces. "Burke and Ferro tried to kill you, Clarke. We aren't turning over innocent men."

"That doesn't matter. I won't have them die in my name."

"What about a trial?"

Clarke likes the idea of the trial but she knows Lexa will never agree to it. "Trikru justice is without mercy. Jus drein, jus daun." Bellamy waits for her to translate. "Blood must have blood."

He sighs. "So we turn them over."

She sits down beside him and rests her head on his shoulder. "Or we go to war." Either way, it's more blood on her hands.

"You once told me that there's always another way."

"I'm all out of ideas."

She closes her eyes to hold back the tears, unwilling to believe this is it, that after all she's done it's going to end with them slaughtering each other. For half a second, she contemplates taking Bellamy's hand and disappearing into the forest. She knows how to live off the land. They could create a life for themselves far away from here. She knows it's just a dream, but for that moment, it seems entirely possible. Except she knows Bellamy. He'd never leave Octavia and Clarke wouldn't ask him to. It's so much of why she loves him, his deep, unwavering loyalty to the people he loves. He would never abandon them to save himself.

But there are others that would, traitors that take more than their share, leave their homes and never look back. Men like Delano and Stefan. Men that have no place in this world. Men that have done terrible things and will pay for the rest of their lives.

She's quiet while she mulls it over. She thinks Lexa will agree to her plan, but the Skaikru will be outraged. What she's proposing is far beyond what they accept as justice, but there's no other way. She hopes she has the right words to convince them.

She walks to the front of the med-bay and clears her throat, once then twice, and then she has Abby's attention and her mom urges the room to be quiet.

"I know what to do."

Clarke looks to Bellamy and he smiles encouragingly. He doesn't like the plan either, but he's in agreement that it's their best option.

"My people have a ritual when someone commits a crime like this. The criminals are banished from their village, shunned by all that share their ways. They are stedaunon keryon – dead souls."

Lincoln meets her gaze, his eyes filled with sorrow, but he doesn't stop her. He nods, a slight flick of his head that tells her he supports the choice she's making.

"There's more," she says carefully. "It's more than banishment. One eye is removed so all that meet them will know what they are. No one will take them. They will bear the mark for the rest of their lives."

The Council stares at her in stunned silence and even Octavia looks a little queasy.

"If we do this, we'll have peace?"

"Abby, you can't be serious – " Sinclair starts but Abby holds up her hand, like Lexa only an hour before, and the room falls to quiet. "If we do this, will the Commander declare peace?"

"It's our best shot."

She wishes she could give a better answer, but it's enough for her mom. "We'll do it," Abby says. Her voice is strong – resolute – even if she looks like she's dying inside. No one protests, not with Abby's anguish written all over her face.

A strange feeling fills Clarke's chest when she arrives at the Trikru camp to deliver the offer to Lexa. The familiar smells and sounds feel foreign and the proud sigils of each tribe seem threatening. She doesn't have a place here anymore than she does with the Skaikru.

"Klark," Lexa drawls once Gustus pats her down for weapons and leads her into the command tent. "When will the bagas be delivered to us?"

"I come with a different proposal."

"Those weren't the terms."

"The crime was committed against me. I should choose the punishment."

"Yu laik Leksakru," Gustus snarls. "Yu no dula op sad in." You do not get to choose.

Lexa waves him away. "What do you propose instead?"

"Emo na ste stedaunon keryon," she says, proud of how steady her voice sounds.

A low murmur fills the tent, but Lexa looks intrigued. "If I agree to this, they will have to follow our ways."

"Sha, heda. Trikru ways."

Lexa nods. "It is agreed." She rises from her chair and faces her furious generals. "When the Skaikru bagas are stedaunon keryon, we will have our peace." She looks at Gustus. "It will happen at dawn. You will wield the knife."

Gustus bows his head but not before Clarke sees the excited gleam in his eyes, the honor he feels for serving his heda and carrying out the punishment.

At Camp Jaha, her mother waits with Byrne and Sinclair in the meeting room, and while she understands that it's a council matter, she wishes Bellamy could be there. Just seeing him would make her news easier to deliver.

"Well?"

"Lexa agreed. When the ritual is complete, we will have peace."

Sinclair looks disgusted. "And two of our people will be tortured in the process."

"They tried to kill my daughter!"

"We have rules, Abby. The Exodus Charter explicitly –"

"The Exodus Charter makes every crime a capital crime! The Exodus Charter sent a hundred kids to the ground to die, it took my husband…"

"I thought we were going to do things differently."

It was Jake's dream to give his daughter something better than what he had, to start over in the place where their ancestors made so many mistakes, and yet, here they are, facing their first trial, their first chance to be different – better – and they're repeating the same behavior.

The watch on Clarke's wrist feels impossibly heavy as she addresses the council. "Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things. We can only do so much in a world shaped by war. When you have a lasting peace, then you can look to changing what you are." She looks pointedly at Sinclair. "The Trikru will be here at dawn."

She visits the med-bay next, hoping to finally get a moment alone with Lincoln. She hasn't had a chance to talk to him, really talk to him, since Octavia brought him back.

"Well?" Bellamy asks when Clarke comes over. He wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her into his side like it's where she's meant to be. She breathes him in and rests her head on his chest. It's the only place she wants to be.

Clarke turns to the three of them and repeats her words to Abby. "Lexa agreed. When the ritual is complete, we will have peace."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Octavia says. She glares at her brother. "You know that torture is wrong."

Bellamy shifts uncomfortably and tries to shy away, but Clarke holds on to his hand, lets him know that she's with him – all of him – the best and worst of who he is. She starts to voice those opinions too, but Lincoln gets there before her.

"If death has no cost, life has no worth. It's how we live. The Commander must hold her army together – she cannot overlook this slight. The Skaikru killed three hundred warriors, massacred eighteen innocents…it's a good deal."

Octavia bites her lip, clearly torn between wanting to believe Lincoln and what's in her heart. "We don't have a choice, do we?"

He cups her cheek. "Not this time." He leans in to kiss her and Bellamy clears his throat. Clarke nudges him to leave them be, but lets him tug his sister to her feet.

"You haven't eaten all day," he says and steers Octavia out of the room, her protests fading as they near the exit to the med-bay.

Clarke takes Octavia's seat at Lincoln's side and leans in close so she can look directly into his eyes. They're clear, warm and brown and tinged with gold – the Lincoln she loves. Tears pool in her eyes and they fall on his shirt as she throws her arms around him and buries her wet face in his neck.

He smiles at her, the bright smile he unleashes so rarely. "Stedaunon keryon – that was clever."

She brushes the tears from her cheeks. "Blood must have blood."

"But not an eye for an eye." She laughs at his slip of the tongue and he laughs too, another beautiful thing she experiences so rarely. He regains his composure, his expression serious. "The price was high but you did well."

"Maybe one day we'll win a war without fighting for peace."

Lincoln presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Ai wich in yu, Klark kom Trigedakru en Skaikru." I believe in you.

Octavia appears with two bowls of stew, eyes darting between Lincoln and Clarke. "What did I miss?"

Clarke gets up and pats the empty bed. "Lincoln's stomach wouldn't stop growling."

Octavia looks unconvinced but takes the vacant seat. "Bellamy went home. I can take over from here." Clarke doesn't think the other girl is being rude so much as she wants to be alone with Lincoln, and she leaves them to have that time together.

She finds Bellamy cleaning his rifle in his tent, long fingers stroking up and down the length of the barrel. She swallows hard and ignores the desire curling in her belly. She can't have those things, not tonight.

He smiles at her and puts the rifle aside. "We have a few hours until dawn…"

"Walk with me."

He frowns but he puts on his boots and jacket, straps the rifle over his chest and silently follows her to the gate. He stands by her side as they stare out into the sea of Trikru torches, the smells of cook fires and anticipation filling the air.

She should be down there with them, eating dinner and sharpening her weapons, waiting at Lexa's side while she prepares for the ritual. Instead she stands behind the fence and watches her people live their lives. And yet, if she turns the other way, it will be the same, the Skaikru going about their business as the hour grows later. It's like the world is closing in around her even as she gulps down fresh air. She feels suffocated – trapped – she wonders if this is how Octavia felt her entire life.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks.

She turns her attention to the sky, so many stars shimmering in the dark night. "Does it ever get easy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Life. Does it ever get easy?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Lie to me."

Bellamy pauses, eyes trained on the stars as he searches for words. "It's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies and everybody lives happily ever after."

Clarke faces him, the constellations of freckles across his cheeks so much more beautiful than the stars above. "Liar," she whispers and presses a butterfly kiss to his throat.

He cups her face in his hands. "I'd never lie to you. It might not happen today, but one day we'll see the end of war."

She smiles against his mouth and kisses him again, on the mouth this time, then settles back into the cradle of his arms. "Promise?"

He nuzzles her hair. "I always keep my promises."

Dawn arrives, cold and dreary, with heavy gray clouds that threaten to burst. They match Clarke's mood, the dark pall that hung over her head the entire night. In the distance, a horn sounds and she jerks awake, climbs to her feet to face the day. At her side Bellamy is slower to get up, absently scratching the back of his head to clear away his sleepy haze.

He joins her at the fence, takes in the sea of Trikru torches glowing like fading stars in the pale light. Those torches shone bright all through the night.

"Did you get any sleep?"

Clarke rubs at her sore neck. "A little."

"It'll be over soon."

She nods, because truly, there's nothing more to say. Soon, Gustus will demand the prisoners and the gruesome ritual will begin. She pulls her jacket tighter around her torso. She wants so much to hate those men for what they did but she only feels an overwhelming sense of guilt. There is little justice in the sentence she's given them.

Gustus is wearing his bear mask when he arrives at the gate. It's fashioned from the head of a grizzly he slew the year he turned fourteen, the animal's gaping mouth exposing sharp, pointed teeth. Several of the Ark guards step back even though they have weapons and stand behind an electric fence. Even when he removes the mask, Gustus's ferocious glare and imposing height keeps the guards at a safe distance. "I am here for the bagas."

He's speaking to Byrne but looking at Clarke with piercing dark eyes. She meets his gaze, willing herself not to flinch. He'll do the Commander's bidding, but his dislike for her plan is clear, as is where he thinks the blame should fall.

Clarke doesn't look away until Denby drags the two prisoners into the yard. Ferro shakes with fear, but Burke appears indifferent, even disinterested. Clarke remembers how comfortable he was with the ax – that blank mask hides the monster within.

He doesn't flinch even when Abby sends them off. "We will not meet again. I wish you luck."

They will need more than luck to survive this ordeal, the blinding itself but also the aftermath. They will have one week to recover under a fisa's painstaking care so they will live to remember the things that they did. But then they will be released into the woods without food or weapons. Their scars will keep any Trikru from helping them, the Azgeda too. Even they will avoid the taint of istedaunon keryon/i.

Ferro sobs softly as Gustus drags him to his feet. "Klark, yu na komba raun seintaim."

"Ai no laik gaf in." I am not needed.

Gustus' eyes burn with a fierce anger. "Disha laik kom yu. Yu na teik oso givness kom graun." This is for you. You will deliver our blessing to the ground.

"Honey, what is he saying?"

Clarke fights to maintain her composure. It's bad enough that she has to be there, but she's now required to participate. "They need me to complete the ritual."

"That wasn't – "

"They're my people. I'm not asking for permission."

Abby opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, pulls Clarke into a tight hug. "Be careful."

"I will, but I don't need to be."

Bellamy nods at her. "Good luck." His warm gaze says everything she wants to hear: iI love you, I believe in you, I'll be waiting/i.

It stays close to her, the faith she saw in his eyes, especially when she stands at Lexa's side. The army waits in wide circles that surround the clearing, five or six rows deep, wearing masks and stomping the earth with their booted feet. Their thirst for vengeance weighs heavily in the humid air.

The prisoners kneel before the Commander. Burke wears the same stoic expression and but Ferro sobs softly. "Mercy," he whispers.

Clarke suppresses a wince. She understands his emotions, but Lexa will only see it as weakness, and because he is unworthy, she will cause him more pain to better match the suffering of her people. Burke says nothing at all.

Lexa is in full regalia, with warpaint smeared across her eyes and a graun-diyo glued to the bridge of her nose. She carries the Trigedakru gon-swis, the sword of her station, a sword carried into battle by every heda that came before her, and she appears twice her height when she addresses the prisoners.

"Yo don ge finga au trana kom frag op. Ai kru gaf in givnes kom yo led." She pulls the sword from its sheath and touches the sharp tip to each man's closed eyes. "Yo na gon we disha yo raun. Yo no gada in houm, no kru. Yo stedaunon keryon." You have been accused of attempted murder. My people demand a sacrifice for your crime. You will leave this place and never return. You have no home, no people. You are dead souls.

She nods and Gustus steps forward, his knife glowing molten and red as he tightly grips Ferro's face in his hands.

"Kom heda," he says and presses the knife against Ferro's eye.

Clarke looks away as Ferro screams and the smell of burned flesh surrounds them. Gustus will cauterize the wound as he cuts out the eye, preventing the victim from bleeding to death and reducing the chance of infection, but without sacrificing his trophy in the process. Clarke keeps her eyes averted while Burke silently seethes and Ferro sobs quietly, but she has to look up when it's time for her part in the ritual.

Gustus holds out a bloody pouch. It weighs next to nothing but she can feel the two squishy balls cradled in the palm of her hand. She swallows hard to keep the bile down.

The army looks to her as she walks to the fire, raises the pouch high then lets it fall into the flames. "Kom Trikru kik raun, emo souda laik yuj. Na laik yuj, emo souda gad in jus." For the Trikru to survive, they must be strong. To be strong, they must have blood.

She opens the bag and lets the contents fall, listens to the hiss of bloody flesh catching fire. Across the clearing, Burke glowers with his one good eye. She can't hold back the flinch this time. She just ended one war only to start another. It wasn't by accident that Delano and his gang happened upon the dropship survivors. Ferro might fade away into the forest, but Burke will want revenge.

Containing him will have to wait. The fire dies and the ashes are scattered and Lexa commands her to gather attendants for a trip to tonDC.

"I am not Skaikru," Clarke points out. While she cares deeply for the people of her birth, her mother is their leader. She should lead the Skaikru entourage.

"You are our eyes and ears," Lexa reminds her. "You will stay with them until I say otherwise."

Clarke protests. "But we've already lost nearly a week."

"You know our ways. The alliance must be sealed by the guest right."

It's only salt and bread, a simple exchange of goods, but the guest right is considered holy by all Graunkru. It means rival clans can treat without fear of attack, that there is honor between enemies. Clarke was there when Lexa finally brought the Azgeda into the fold, held her breath until Rowena swallowed her last bite of bread and declared peace between their peoples.

It's pointless trying to change Lexa's mind. "Sha, heda."

She already has a team in mind when she arrives back at Camp Jaha: her mother, Bellamy, and Octavia. Lexa ordered Nyko to examine Lincoln, so he'll come too. Maybe Byrne or Denby for extra security. No one else. It will be hard enough keeping four Skaikru safe in a hostile Trikru village.

Raven is waiting when the small group crosses the yard to begin their journey. "I'm coming too."

"Raven, this isn't a pleasure trip," Abby explains.

"You need to work on the radio," Bellamy adds. Wick came back from the Mount Weather mission with news – they can hear the Maunon's communications through a single open channel – and ever since, Raven's been working on narrowing the signal. It's a vital piece of their plan for taking the Maunde, being able to communicate with the people trapped inside.

"I'll work on it while I ride in the cart with Lincoln." Raven pats the large pack strapped to her back. "You'll have your damn radio."

"That's not – "

Raven's voice is razor sharp. "I deserve to see the place where Finn died."

Clarke doesn't have it in her to say no. She killed Finn, destroyed Raven's life. The least she can do is let her say goodbye. She glances at Raven's ruined leg. "Okay," she softly agrees. "You can come."

The walk is long and hot, the humidity raising the temperature despite the cool air. At the head of the column, Lexa and Gustus talk in low voices. They're plotting something and it makes Clarke nervous.

"How much further?" Bellamy's question startles her. He's been at her side the entire trek but it's the first time he's spoken since they left Camp Jaha.

"A few hours. We'll be there by dinnertime." He doesn't respond, but she can read him well, the tick of his jaw revealing how he really feels. "You think this truce is a bad idea."

"I think we're wasting time with politics while our people are in trouble."

"We need to work together to get out everyone out of the Maunde. You know that."

"Maybe, but the Trikru army has been getting its ass kicked by Mount Weather for forever. We need an inside man, someone to be our eyes and ears."

She halts in her tracks, heedless of how it might hold up the line. "You're kidding, right?"

He grasps her elbow and pulls her off the path. His expression has never been more serious. "If you could make it out, I can make it in."

"I said no!"

His jaw ticks again. "Since I don't take orders from you, I'm gonna need a better reason."

"I love you," she whispers, panic knotting tightly around her heart. "I lost you once. I can't lose you again."

The fight goes out of him too and he wraps his arms around her. She feels the knot in her chest ease. Being in his arms is her favorite place – it's where she feels safe. "Just think about it, okay?"

"Okay." He might own her heart, but she doesn't own him. His decisions are his own. She can't stop him if it's what he truly believes is right.

Yet it weighs on her through the hike, and especially when they arrive at tonDC.

"Heda! Heda! Mounin Houm!" her neighbors cry. iCommander! Commander! Welcome back!/i Despite their grief, many are smiling; since Costia's death, it's a rare occasion for Lexa to visit tonDC.

The mood changes when they spot the Skaikru amongst Lexa's group. Egor steps forward, his face twisted with anger. He was a farmer before Finn's Massacre, but from the way he grips his knife, he's become much more gona in the days since. "Skaikru don jak etin op kom ai: ai houmon, ai yognon," he snarls, pulls his knife from his belt.

Abby pushes forward. "We come in peace," she says, looks to Clarke to translate her words.

Lexa takes over instead. "Skaikru laik no mou bagas. Emo na sis osir au flosh kiln Maunde." The Skaikru are no longer our enemies. They will help us bring down the mountain.

With her permission, Gustus steps forward as well. "Yo breik au hukop na kof raun ai." Anyone that violates the treaty answers to me.

His great size is enough to send a clear message and the crowd falls back so the Skaikru can walk through the gates. They're stripped of their weapons, Raven especially. She glares up at Gustus as he removes four knives from various parts of her person, and he looks no friendlier as he searches her pack.

The tension remains palpable, especially when Indra greets them at the entrance to the meeting hall. She wears her best armor, the kind that is for show rather than combat, and holds her head high as she takes in her nona's birth mother.

"I am Indra kom Trigedakru." She bows slightly. "The laws of hospitality are sacred to the Trikru. Here you are the guest and safe from harm for this night."

It's a strange speech, but one Clarke knows well. She was at Indra's side when she welcomed Rowena kom Azgeda to tonDC for a similar meeting.

Abby pauses, so many emotions flickering over her face, then she crosses the short distance and takes Indra's hand. "I am Abby, Clarke's mother. Thank you for taking care of my child when I couldn't."

Indra looks to her nona over Abby's head, a look of wonder in her eyes that only Clarke would recognize. "It was an honor." Her voice is a little rough and her color is high when she extricates herself from the handshake.

Clarke joins them to help ease the awkwardness. "Osir laik hir kom hukop-givness." We are here for the guest right.

"Now it begins."

Lincoln and Octavia head to the medical hut, but the rest of the group follows Indra inside. Food and drink are laid across the heavy table, with a small bowl of salt and a loaf of bread set out at one end, but it's the man sitting at the other end that grabs the group's attention, Abby's especially. She lets out small cry then practically vaults across the table, runs to the man at a sprint and launches herself into his arms. Clarke's reminded of Bellamy during their Camp Jaha reunion, the way the strange man holds her mom like she'll disappear if he lets her go.

"I thought you were dead," Abby whispers, buries her tear-streaked face in the man's neck.

He strokes her hair, presses a kiss to her temple. "I'm right here."

Clarke stares at the display, both curious and a little grossed out. She nudges Bellamy. "You could have told me."

He shrugs. "I figured you knew."

She should know, but in all the conversations she's had with Abby since they found each other, her mom's never mentioned a husband. And that's what he is, a houmon, and even if he wasn't holding Abby so close, the man's wedding ring gives him away.

"Clarke, honey, this is Marcus Kane – my husband."

He's also the chancellor, the rescue mission her mom chose over Finn, but there will be time to discuss that later. Right now she needs to get through these introductions so they can get down to the hard work of planning a war.

Marcus holds out a hand. "Your mom's been waiting a long time for you. I look forward to getting to know you too."

She barely has time to agree before the door is thrown open and Lexa strides into the room. Her fierce gaze looks positively deadly with the warpaint highlighting the cool blue of her eyes.

Lexa's attention flicks to Marcus. "I see you have accepted our gift."

He smiles. "I thank you for our time together. It was a pleasure learning your ways."

Abby pulls a frosted glass bottle out of her pack. "Please accept this gift, Commander. We drink this moonshine on special occasions and I believe this qualifies."

"Thank you, Abby of the Sky People," Lexa says and hands the bottle to Gustus. He uncorks it and inspects it curiously, sniffing at its contents and testing its weight in his hands.

"You're welcome, Leksa kom Trikru." She stumbles over all but Lexa's name, but Clarke's proud of her mom for trying. It shows that she respects her new partners, that she is a worthy ally.

"Let us drink together." She gestures at Gustus to pour the moonshine. "Tonight we celebrate our newfound peace. Tomorrow we plan our war. To those we've lost and those we shall soon find."

She raises her glass as if to drink but Gustus interrupts. "Heda, allow me to drink first." He doesn't accuse the Skaikru so much as he lays suspicion that there could be something wrong with their gift.

Lexa nods and Gustus takes a small sip, grimacing slightly as he swallows the harsh liquid. Lexa again raises her cup but it doesn't make it to her lips because Gustus collapses, white foam leaking from his mouth while he convulses on the ground.

"Poison," Indra hisses. Two gonas drag Gustus from the room.

"This wasn't us," Marcus insists.

"You have to believe we came in peace!" Abby adds.

Clarke closes her eyes and wonders if this is to be the rest of her life. She remembers something her dad used to say, that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. How many times can her two peoples stand at the brink of peace only to fall into war?

"Gustus warned me about you but I didn't listen." Lexa's accusation snaps Clarke back to reality. Rudi is holding a small vial and glaring at a snarling Raven.

"That's not mine! I'm telling you, that's s not mine! The guard put it there when he searched me."

Lexa's cool gaze hardens to ice. "No Sky Person leaves this room. Klark, yu na kamp raun emo en dig au ridiyo." You will stay with them and find out the truth.

There's no door to slam, but a heavy silence still fills the room once the Trikru depart. Clarke slumps to the ground and cradles her head in her hands. However this horrible day ends, the only real winners will be the Maunde.

"Clarke, what do we do?" Abby looks at her daughter like she has all the answers and it only makes her heart pound harder. They're all counting on her to fix this and she's run out of options. She ignores her mother and buries her head between her knees. "Clarke?"

Bellamy's voice rumbles in the background then he's sliding down next to her. He takes one of her hands and strokes slow circles across her palm with his thumb. "You aren't in this alone. If we're going to get out of here, we need to do it together."

Slowly, she raises her head and meets his steady gaze. Those dark eyes haven't let her down yet. There's no reason to believe they will now. "Let's figure it out."

Raven is the most likely suspect. She sits at the far end of the room with her bad leg propped up on a bench and arms crossed over her chest, but it's the savage look in her eyes that alerts Clarke's suspicions. She's made her feelings clear, both about the death ritual and Clarke's acquittal. Plus, there was the vial in her jacket.

Clarke wants to believe otherwise, but she has to ask. "Raven, I need to know the truth."

Her head jerks up, angry tears glinting in her eyes. "I'd step back if I was you."

"I know how angry you are with me. If you tried to poison Lexa, I need to know."

With great effort, Raven rises to her feet. "You're the only murderer here."

Clarke doesn't see the punch coming, stumbles backwards into Kane from the force of it. Raven is breathing heavily, her face contorted with pain as she shifts all her weight to her right leg, but she isn't backing away.

Bellamy jumps in before it gets more heated. "Tearing each other apart isn't how we get through this."

Kane agrees. "Lexa needs this alliance as much as we do. She's shown herself to be flexible."

"She thinks we tried to kill her," Abby points out.

"But we know we didn't," Bellamy says. "So let's figure out who did."

"Who would want her dead?" Abby muses.

Raven scoffs. "Who wouldn't?"

"Forming an alliance with the Skaikru was a risk, especially after what Finn did to this village." Clarke pauses, rubs her sore jaw. "It had to be someone trying to break the alliance."

The tent flap rustles and Indra steps inside. Her eyes hone in on Raven. "Take her."

"Wait! What are you doing?" Kane tries to get between Raven and the Trikru gonas.

"The Commander will see blood spilled for the attempt on Gustus' life." She gestures for the gonas to take Raven outside.

All Skaikru eyes shift to Clarke, beseeching her to do something. Much as she doesn't want to take a stand against her nomon, they're right. Raven shouldn't be punished for something she didn't do.

"Nomon, disha laik foto." This is wrong.

Indra looks resigned. "Yu get in emo diyo. Jus drein jus daun." You know our ways. Blood must have blood.

They drag a screaming Raven from the room. "I didn't do it! How is it justice if I didn't do it?"

Clarke's heart speeds up again, threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Another life is on the line and they're all looking to her to save it. She sucks in a breath and tries to organize her thoughts. She thinks of Egor's outrage and Gustus's rage. Even sweet Nena had glared at their group as they passed through the gate. They all had reason to sabotage the alliance, but only one person had access.

Her gaze lands on the overturned goblet at Gustus' seat. "I know what happened." She hurries from the room, the others close at her heels.

The entire village is gathered in the square, watching as a healed Gustus ties Raven to the post. It's where Petr was whipped so many years ago, where Clarke learned firsthand the depths of Trikru justice, but there will be no blood spilled today.

"Stop!" Clarke cries just as Indra's knife slices across Raven's belly. Indra looks to Lexa for direction then puts down the knife.

"Explain," the Commander hisses.

"May I?" Clarke gestures for Rudi to hand her the frosted green bottle. Without hesitating, she takes a healthy slug of moonshine, wipes her mouth and triumphantly faces the crowd. "The poison wasn't in the bottle. It was in the cup."

"It was you." Bellamy points to Gustus. "He tested the cup. He searched Raven."

"Gustus would never harm me."

Even with her warpaint and armor, Lexa looks very much like a scared little girl. Clarke's struck by how young she is, how much weight rests on her shoulders. Even the great Commander has moments when the responsibility is too much. "You weren't the target," Clarke says softly, trying to ease the blow. "The alliance was."

Lexa looks a little like she's been struck. "Yu don ge finga au, Gostos. Ron ai ridiyo op." You have been accused, Gustus. Speak true.

Gustus responds in English so the Skaikru will understand the extent of his sacrifice. "The alliance would have cost you your life, Heda. I could not let that happen."

"This treachery will cost you yours." Lexa's voice is very small and she quickly turns away but not before Clarke sees the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Ai sad kiln yu kom womplei kom thauz kodon." I sentence you to death by a thousand cuts.

They quickly cut Raven down and tie Gustus to the same pole. Indra is the first to slide the knife through the muscles of his belly. The Skaikru watch silently as each willing Trikru takes a turn with the knife, slicing and stabbing away at Gustus's flesh. Clarke closes her eyes. Despite her best efforts, blood is still being spilled.

When no others step forward, Lexa grips her sword and stands dry-eyed before Gustus. "Yu gonplei ste odon," she says and slides the sword between his ribs, holds his gaze until his body falls slack and his eyes slide closed. She turns to the Skaikru. "It is done. Now we have peace."

"Seriously?" Bellamy asks as Lexa turns on her heel and disappears into the meeting hall. "Just like that, we start over?"

"The Trikru do not hold grudges. Gustus's death means the debt has been paid."

"And blood must have blood."

"Yes," Clarke says and follows him into the hall. "Blood must always have blood."

The second attempt at a feast goes better than the first. If the alliance works, both Trikru and Skaikru will be able to bring their people home, so despite Gustus's gaping absence, the mood is hopeful as they complete the guest right.

After, the groups separate to bed down for the night. Abby and Marcus disappear into their tent, presumably to finish their reunion, and Bellamy heads for the medical tent. The drug is out of his system but Lincoln remains weak. He slept through the entire ordeal with Octavia by his side so Bellamy goes to fill them in.

Clarke stands at the fire in the center of the yard, in the same spot where they burned Finn and his victims, and contemplates the day's events. The ground gives and takes in equal measure but she's not naïve enough to think today was a victory. She tosses a twig into the flames, listens to the hiss and pop as it catches fire. Their truce is the same – one misstep and it could easily burn to ash.

Lexa comes to stand beside her. "You have been a loyal soldier, Klark kom Trigedakru."

Clarke shrugs. "I want our people back. I want peace."

Across the yard, Bellamy steps out of the medical tent. His eyes lock with Clarke's and she shakes her head, just a tiny tremble that tells him to let her handle this. He takes a seat by the cook fire and rests his elbows on his knees. He doesn't look away from her.

"He is your houmon." Lexa follows Clarke's gaze to where Bellamy waits.

"Yes," Clarke says hesitantly. Her connection with Bellamy is special – sacred – and she doesn't want to talk about it with Lexa.

"I had a houmon once."

"I remember Costia."

Lexa's voice is flat and devoid of emotion. "Then you remember what happened to her. She was captured by the Azgeda because Rowena believed she knew my secrets. Because she was mine…they tortured her, killed her, cut off her head." She sucks in a pained breath. "I thought I'd never get over the pain, but I did."

Clarke remembers that day, remembers in particular the hollow look in Lexa's eyes. That was the day the girl died and the commander was born. She's only seen a heda since. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Hodness laik kwelnes." Love is weakness. "Love puts the people you care about in danger and the pain never goes away."

"No," Clarke says, surprised by the firmness in her voice. It's the first time she's openly defied Lexa. "Hodness laik uf." Love gives you strength.

"Den yu laik branwoda." iThen you are a fool/i.

She dares lay a hand on Lexa's arm, a gesture of comfort but also a warning – she's done being the Commander's pawn. "Ai na laik don gaf in kom sis em kru op hou." I will do what is necessary to bring our people home.

Lexa shrugs off her arm. "I hope you are right."

Clarke doesn't watch her walk away, focuses instead on the broad man with dark curls sitting by the fire.

"What was that about?"

She takes his hand and grips it tightly between her own. "Do you trust me?"

His forehead knots in confusion. "You know I do. Clarke, what's going on?"

"I need to be strong."

"You are strong – "

"You were right," she interrupts. "Without someone on the inside to lower the Maunde's defenses and turn off the acid fog, an army is useless."

He tugs his hand free and uses it to cup her jaw, angle her face so their eyes lock. She tries to be strong, to hide her fear, but he sees through her the way he always does. "I thought you hated that plan, that I'd get myself killed."

"All I think about every day is how we're going to keep everyone alive, but to do that, it can't be about me. I can't ask you to stay because I'm scared."

"Thank you. I know you don't want me to go, but I need to do this."

"Why?" She understands his loyalty to their people but there are others that could go in his place. Murphy. Marcus. Any number of Trikru warriors that have spent their entire lives studying the Maunon. He could stay at her side where he belongs.

He drops his hand and studies the fire. "That day in the woods with Atom, it should have been me. One of my people was suffering and I didn't have the guts to help him. I wasn't strong then, but I am now." He smiles at her. "You showed me the way."

It's her turn to cup his jaw and curl her fingers over his stubbly cheek. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

"I have to prove it to myself. Do you understand?"

She does, she doesn't want to understand, but she does. It's why she almost died getting out of the Mountain, because her sacrifice would have been worth it if it helped her people in any way. "I love you," she says and seals it with a kiss.

"Ai hod yu in," he says against her mouth. "How much time do we have?"

"A few hours, maybe less."

He tugs her to her feet. "Let's make it count."

They study her map of Mount Weather and confer with Lincoln to sketch a route through the tunnels. Raven still won't talk to her, but she does burst into their tent, raving about something on the radio.

They sit in hushed silence and listen to Jasper's staticky voice. "The forty-seven are trapped in Mount Weather. Please send help."

"They're alive," Octavia breathes and Clarke lets out a strangled laugh. It's the sign she was searching for, the faith she needs to believe this plan will work.

Raven gives Bellamy instructions for finding a radio inside the Mountain and establishing communication with the Ark, and Octavia gives her brother a long hug and then it's just them alone in the tent.

They do more than make the time count.

At dawn Bellamy stands with Clarke at the gate, her map safe inside his pack, and holds her close in the misty morning air.

She buries her face in his jacket. "We keep walking away from each other."

"But we always find our way back." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object on a string, tips up her chin so he can slide the cord over her head. It's the arrowhead she asked Lincoln to give him the night of the dropship battle.

"You're supposed to keep this until we reach the sea."

He straightens the necklace. "We're not going to the sea any time soon. You can return it after the Mountain."

"Promise?"

When he kisses her, she feels it everywhere, her heart threatening to burst with how much she loves him. He whispers into her hair. "I always keep my promises."

He lets her go and disappears into the forest. He takes her heart with him.

Writers live for feedback – please leave some if you have the time.