Note: I updated the chapter. New scenes start at "Things are... inexplicably tense." Enjoy and leave me your thoughts, comments, suggestions, reactions!

It's not awkward.

It definitely wasn't awkward at the baths, Tijan the perfect bridge to calm the two nervous friends (and relax they did eventually. Several times). And it certainly hasn't been awkward ever since.

The fact that Raven reverted to sleeping in her own bed these past two weeks is simply the result of the girl's more and more erratic work and sleep schedule, with odd trips out to Lexa's warehouses. The fact that neither of the two found the time to visit the baths in question since – at least not together – is simply due to their respective agendas being too full at the moment. And the fact that Raven and her have only exchanged monosyllabic greetings in the same timeframe is because… She's just busy ok.

What she's trying to say is that there's a perfectly sensible explanation for it all and assuredly nothing more to it.

"Oh, uh… hey."

They bump into each other in the kitchens, of all places.

"Hi, hey. I mean hi."

She's known Raven long enough to know that it's a little bit too… over enthusiastic to be genuine.

"How… Uh… How are things?"

"Oh… things are good. Yeah, not bad."

It's the most they've spoken to each other in two weeks and Clarke has no idea how to move forward.

"Are you here for Heda's supplies, Clarke kom Skaikru?" Klio interrupts the stilted exchange.

"Uh, yes. The supplies, sure."

The girl gestures to a bag lying open on one of the counters. "I packed everything in the satchel over there and added those small buns you like so much", she explains, throwing a cheeky wink in her direction.

"Oh, thank you, Klio."

"You are very much welcome, Clarke kom Skaikru."

She's repeatedly asked Klio and Ajax, twin orphans helping in the kitchens and whom she had won over with her constant gushing over the cooks' soups (and gluttonous sampling of the compact almond paste buns – a "tower specialty" if she's to believe them), to call her by her name but to no avail. At least it's not "Wanheda", so there's that.

She grabs the bag, hiding a small fond smile when she observes its contents. She's come to understand that "supplies", when it comes to Lexa, essentially means apples. Kilos and Kilos of apples. The girl's quite steady in her addiction.

She has a small moment of panic when Klio makes to exit the room, which would leave her and Raven alone. The chicken in her hyperventilates at the prospect.

"I…" she holds the heavy satchel up and motions to the door. "So, I… I better get going. Uh… All the best." She hightails it out of there, cringing at her parting words. "All the best", really?

It's awkward. Totally awkward. And it needs to stop.

"So you will be like… Athena, watching over the Achaeans?" She can tell Aden's trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"That would be an… imaginative and flattering way of putting it, but yes. What do you think, ready to lead your armies into battle, young Diomedes?"

His pupils grow imperceptibly wider and the tip of his ears redden. He nods three times. Oh yes, Aden is definitely very excited.

"But if you're helping us, who'll assist the others?"

The oldest Natblida, always so fair.

"I was thinking of Costia and Clarke."

"Clarke kom Skaikru?"

"Yes. Do you find that choice suitable?"

More frantic nodding. "But… if they get two, then could we as well? Maybe Lincoln could come and help us? Not that you wouldn't be enough of course!"

She's surprised he would mention the disgraced Trikru, considering all they shared was one lesson, at Clarke's request.

"Did Lincoln tell you and the others about his recent mission?"

"Fighting the pauna? Yes, he spoke about it, a little bit. Iro had many questions."

"Well, then you know that Lincoln was banished and killing the pauna secured him a pardon. But as long as the ceremony hasn't taken place, his interactions with you and I are to be kept to a minimum. I agreed to the drawing lesson and hope you and your fellow Natblida found it useful but that is as far as we can bend our customs for now."

"He said a boy – about my age – assisted him in hunting the beast."

Clarke's second. She suppresses a sigh and remains silent, wondering where Aden's going with this.

"Will you honour him too, at the ceremony?"

Aden already knows what she'll say. "I cannot. I will, as promised, pardon Lincoln in exchange for the service he rendered our people. That will be the extent of the ceremony."

She can see the boy's carefully choosing his next words. "But doesn't it seem unfair? The boy bled for you. He risked his life for our people…"

She knew this story wouldn't let her be. Damn Clarke. It's a very delicate subject to discuss, particularly with Aden. "The boy is a Stained One, Aden. As Heda, I have to uphold our ways."

She can tell by the doubling size of his pupils that neither Lincoln nor Clarke had disclosed the boy's status. That's something at least. But now she has a disappointed Aden on her hands, who tucks his head to the side, away from her, avoiding her eyes. She waits patiently for him to open up.

"My brother also carried the stain" he finally reveals with a small voice. The slight tremor gives away how affected the boy is.

She knows of course, Titus always makes sure to know everyting about each Natblida. But to her knowledge it's not something Aden's ever discussed, at least not with any of his tutors. He still hasn't looked up.

"I… I still remember the day they cast him away…"

A sniff.

She tentatively places a comforting hand on his knee. When he turns his head down, as if surprised by the touch, she brings her hand up to his chin and gently raises his head, looking into his brimming eyes.

"I'm very sorry for what happened to your brother, Aden" she offers.

Aden looks conflicted, probably reluctant to appear so vulnerable to his Heda. A tear slips down. Followed by another. A second sniff.

"How is it possible, Heda, for him to be stained and for me to have night blood? We share the same parents, the same family, the same blood…"

She wipes the tears with her fingers.

"I do not know, Aden. These are things that escape even my knowledge."

"Sometimes" he starts before choking. "Sometimes I wonder whether… it's because of me. Whether he had to be… like that… for me to get black blood."

Her heart breaks a little bit then. He dips his head down, hastily rubbing at his cheeks and nose with his sleeve, clears his voice and turns his head away again. She withdraws her hand and places it back on his knee with a squeeze.

"Will we be able to communicate through radio?" he rushes out.

She knows he's trying to change the subject but decides against calling him out on it. "You heard about the radios?"

He nods, eyes still red and sad. "Yes, Clarke kom Skaikru explained it to us. She said she would have a friend of hers, a genius, show us how it works."

Clarke's making promises and planning the Natblidas' schedule without checking with her first. Again. The girl's incorrigible. Lexa's starting to think she'll simply never learn.

"If Clarke announced it, then I suppose we'll have to organize this presentation. But for this outing, I would rather you work without technology from the sky."

"Skaikru's weapons must be… formidable" he switches to a different topic again. At her questioning eyes, he adds: "For Skaikru to vanquish the Mountain. For Lincoln and the boy to be able to kill the pauna so quickly and on their own…"

Oh. "I suppose so. They do have items that could turn very useful in the future."

"Will they give them to us? Will you teach us to fight with them?"

"With their weapons?"

"Yes. Clarke says bullets fired by fayogons can travel for miles. Double or more the range of an arrow."

She clenches her jaw. Now that is definitely outside of Clarke's purview. She's careful to school her features into mild curiosity. "Does she?"

Something in Aden's sudden hesitation tells her she may not have been so successful at hiding her annoyance. It would stand to reason: she can't expect to be the only one learning to read the other well during these private sessions. It's only a matter of time before Aden, Naqib and Iro learn to spot – and use – her tells.

"Shouldn't we know at least how to fight with or against the weapons that exist out there, Heda? Even if just to know what we may face, one day? You always said we should be prepared for any threat and use any resource at our disposal."

She reaches out, patting tenderly the top of his head. She doesn't know how to explain that she's just trying to protect them because what bullets do to bodies has so little to do with the way the clans have been waging wars. And that is without even mentioning the potential havoc Rayvon kom Skaikru can wreak with her inventions. To think that Cage Wallace would call her people savages when their weapons don't even give an opponent a fighting chance, vulgarly crushing bones and flesh in their wake…

She sighs, remembering one of her last conversations with the previous Commander. They had discussed the gradual refusal by a former country (an island) to adopt gunfire. And it had lasted for quite a while, until reality had caught up with them and they had been forced to spread its use among their armies.

She lets her hand softly fall away. "I suppose you should. Didn't Titus teach you about the Mountain's weapons?"

"It's too… abstract. Half of the time he doesn't even know what he's talking about, Heda." She can see it costs him a lot to criticize his tutor.

"Mhh" she exhales. This is her fault. Gustus used to be the one teaching the Natblidas about weapons and tactics. And though she herself has tried to fill in for Anya's lessons on hand to hand combat, she's failed so far to find a suitable replacement for her former bodyguard.

"So it'll be me, Iro and Silas?"

Aden's apparently jumped back to this week's programme.

"Yes."

"With you?"

"And with 10 members of the guard."

"Against Naqib, Flora and Ruben, aided by Costia and Clarke? I mean, Costia kom Trikru and Clarke kom Skaikru" he corrects himself at the familiarity. "Will they, too, have 10 members of the guard?"

"Yes, the guards represent the men under your command. I will see if Indra can come help your side as well, for it to be more balanced."

He nods: "That sounds fair."

She gives him a small smile and taps his wrist with two fingers.

"How is your injury?"

"Healed, Heda."

"Healed or healing?" she presses, because Aden isn't fooling anybody. She's seen how he tends to still favour his other hand in single combat these days.

He ducks his head, before murmuring in capitulation. "Healing," quickly followed by: "But it'll be completely fine by the time the game starts."

Lexa has to suppress a cringe at the word "game." She had tried – they had tried, for Titus is just as scandalized, if not more – to impart to the Natblida the seriousness of the impending field exercise. But see, Clarke had gotten to them first, blabbering excitedly about this "wonderful adventure" and "oh how fun this game will be" and from then onwards it had been a lost battle.

If she's honest, it would be hypocritical for her to complain, as the word "game" is also what enabled her to convince Costia to join. So, all in all, an acceptable bargain.

"He must have been… a good friend." She needs to tread carefully. Clarke speaking so freely is new, and even though the blonde is undeniably more relaxed these days, Lexa's very careful not to say or do something that could jolt this delicate development.

"He was" her opponent replies with a sad smile, eyes slightly dimmed. "The best" she continues with a sigh. "I…" She never finishes the sentence, switches to something else instead. "He was Jaha's son. You met Jaha, right?"

Oh.

That doesn't match at all the mental image that had started to form in her mind when wondering what the boy who meant so much to Clarke, Wells, would look and be like. But now that they're on the topic…

"Is Skaikru in touch with Thelonious Jaha?"

Clarke frowns, shaken out of her reminiscing.

"No. At least I don't think so. He just left with a group of Sky People one day and hasn't been seen since..."

She files the information away. She recalls the beaten man who had first approached her in the cell. The arrogance with which he had described her people as "primitive." Respectful of the younger girl in the beginning, yet foolish enough to believe he could negotiate his way out by taking her captive, oblivious to the fact it had been Lexa in disguise all along. There is no trace in Clarke's accounts of Wells of his father's ruthless streak.

"I find it difficult to reconcile the stories you shared of Wells with the man I met." Although Clarke did paint a picture of a very lonely boy...

Clarke gives a small chuckle at that, forced smile back on her lips. "Yeah. Let's just say their relationship wasn't without strain. Wells was a really sweet guy." Her smile blooms into something real while she loses herself in a memory, before returning to the present. She looks thoughtfully at Lexa.

"He would have liked playing against you. I think."

"Did he…" Careful. Clarke's only shared stories of the two of them up in the Sky, nothing about him coming down with her. And she had revealed a while ago that the boy was dead. "Did Wells not make it to the ground?"

Clarke shifts, a dark look crossing her features. The smile turns bitter. "Oh no, he did. When he heard we were being sent down, our initial group you know, the 100, he did something stupid, damaged a tree in order to be arrested and sent down with us." Her eyes are shining in the candle light. "All just to be with me."

Yes, tree violence aside, Wells does sound like her kind of guy. Too soft, for sure, but a loyal friend, protective of Clarke.

She won't push, opts for remaining silent to see if the blonde wants to elaborate.

Clarke swallows a heavy sigh. "He just didn't make it a week on the Ground. He died on the seventh day."

What had Thelonious Jaha said in that cell? She combs through her memory of that day. "We did not come all this way to die"? The irony's not lost on her. The sentence, combined with Marcus Kane's voluntary sacrifice of slitting his wrist had left a deep impression on Lexa: cornered people with everything and yet also nothing to loose.

"I am sorry to hear that, Clarke."

The girl lets one long exhale out. "Yeah, me too." She ducks her head, dabs a finger at the corner of each eye, before clearing her throat. This must be some kind of record for Lexa: making two people cry in the same day. "Anyway, so when are we going on that Nightblood adventure?"

The full story on Wells will apparently have to wait. Which is fine, Lexa's patient. Eager to continue catching these glimpses of Clarke's life – these small precious insights she's collecting and which, when assembled, build an ever more complex and fascinating whole – but patient enough to let the blonde come to her.

"The group you and Costia will be shadowing should leave in two days. You will have a half day's lead over mine."

"Costia and I?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Lexa stops, furrowing her brow. Costia had been the one suggesting she join Clarke's crew instead of her own ("why don't we make this a bit more interesting?" had been her lover's exact words, with a dangerous twinkle in her eyes). She hadn't hinted at any disagreements or tensions between them. "Is that a… source of concern?"

"No, no, of course not, no. It's great! Costia's great! No problem at all. I just… I didn't know, that's all."

She returns to the board, frowning, perplexed by the blonde's fumbling but pushing it aside for now. Let's see: if she moves her rook, but no then Clarke would have a clear opening to… Any displacement of her pawn that side would leave her knight wide open. And she's lost her two bishops already. (She's well aware of the rather childish part of her that systematically sacrifices the bishops first.) Mhh. Is it possible Clarke is actually getting better at this the more they play? Or are Lexa's – Nimzo's – go-to diversions getting a little old?

She continues to ponder her options. At one point, Clarke sways forward, no doubt to get a better view of Lexa's positions, before jolting back. She doesn't really pay the girl any mind, too concentrated. The blonde repeats the movement a second time – that must be some serious plotting. Is she missing something? Is one of her troops (she doesn't like calling them "pieces") more exposed than she thought? Lexa only registers the girl's antics in the periphery of her vision and settles on moving one of her pawns, certain it's not a game-winning move but her options are currently rather limited. She looks up.

Oh.

Clarke is anything but scheming. It would appear the blonde is… dozing off, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, her upper body dipping a little bit more forward with every breath out (leaving a little bit too little to the imagination). Before a reflex thrusts her chest back, seemingly without waking her. It's all quite…unsettling and leaves Lexa rather speechless.

Now, what to do…

She ponders her options for a short while. Her mind made up, she approaches the Skaikru quietly and manages to gently coax her to recline and lie down on her side, on the lounging chair. She finds a small pillow to prop the girl's head up and promptly ignores the small whimper of contentment that escapes the blonde's lips once she's completely settled. Clarke must have been really tired, for she remains deeply asleep throughout the whole process. "Unsettling" is maybe not quite the right word. "Endearing," maybe?

Lexa could leave, return to her own quarters, now that the game is clearly postponed. Costia will soon be back from her short scouting mission ahead of the outing with the Natblida. She decides to stay. Leaning back in her own deep and comfortable armchair, she tucks one foot under her thigh and attacks My System's ninth chapter.

She doesn't manage to read much. The words don't seem to form into full-fledged sentences. Her mind keeps wandering to the week ahead. While her eyes… her eyes keep wandering to the sleeping blonde. She must admit she's found herself slowly warming up to her shorter locks and tousled look.

Clarke mutters something unintelligible in her sleep.

Yes. Endearing.

She doesn't know how long she stays stuck on that one page but when she decides to call it a night, Clarke is still deep in her slumber. She could leave the blonde here – she's safe – and could then make her way back to her room on her own once she'd wake. Lexa decides however that the most considerate course of action is to take the blonde herself, now, to her quarters. Clarke doesn't even twitch when Lexa delicately scoops her up, right hand holding the girl's head against her shoulder. Any self-respecting Trikru would have had a knife at her throat by now. Skaikru are truly not of this world.

The real dilemma comes when, upon arriving at Clarke's chambers, her guards inform her that Rayvon is not present. It's probably incredibly forward and presumptuous of her, maybe even unwelcome, but, well… the two are an item after all so… She turns around and makes her way to Rayvon's quarters instead. Yes, this is not impolite. Lexa herself would appreciate it if someone were to bring her a sleepy Costia. Would she do this for any ambassador? No, of course not. But Clarke's not just an ambassador to them – to her – is she? She's…

Several things happen in close succession then: she's about to reach her destination when Costia suddenly rounds the corner. And. This is nothing of course. Sure, Clarke's soothing warmth is currently pressed against her own chest, lips inches away from her collarbone, close enough for Lexa to feel every single intake and exhale. But it is nothing. Yet she's also not clueless enough to ignore what it looks like. She freezes, swallows once, eyes on Costia, trying to decipher the girl's minute expressions.

Her lover seems just as rooted to the spot, taking in the scene. Then she gives a small shake of her head with an exaggerated sigh, eyes narrowed, yet curious.

"And where, pray tell, are we carrying the Skaikru ambassador in this late hour?"

"To Rayvon kom Skaikru." Lexa's voice is maybe not as firm as she'd like.

Costia looks with bewilderment at her then. She seems about to say something but decides against it, an amused glint slowly flitting through her eyes.

"Well then, who am I to stand in your way? By all means, let's pay Rayven a visit." She gestures for Lexa to continue and falls into step at her side. When they reach the Skaikru's chambers, she cocks her head to the side and lets Lexa awkwardly try and knock on the door, while making sure not to jostle the blonde package in her arms.

A disgruntled Rayvon Lexa's now quite used to see answers the door on the third knock. There's this moment – it feels very long to her – where the artisan looks from her, to Clarke, to Costia, back to Clarke. And again. And again. On the fourth round, Lexa discretely clears her throat and motions for the Skaikru to let them cross the threshold. She's a little bit unsure what to say, now that she's in front of Clarke's lover. But the brunette doesn't budge for another moment, an embarrassed grimace on her lips, before she huffs and opens the door wider for Lexa to step in. This is not exactly the warm welcome she was expecting from a relieved lover, but it's too late in the night to ponder the girl's lukewarm reception. She deposits Clarke on the bed, catches herself before she'd be tempted to tuck one of her rebellious locks behind her ear.

The standing Skaikru doesn't seem to really know what to do, now that Clarke's comfortably situated in her bed, but that's for them to sort out.

When she straightens up and her gaze crosses Costia's, there's a torn look on the girl's face, one that disappears immediately. She joins her outside and the two walk quietly towards their quarters. Costia wordlessly slips her hand into hers and Lexa thinks that maybe, even though she has a feeling this is not the last she'll hear about the position Costia found her in tonight, it'll be ok.

It's with a sinking feeling that Clarke wakes up in unfamiliar – or at least unexpected – territory. That hasn't happened in a while, but the instantaneous rush of alarm is there all the same. The fact that she quickly places the room as Raven's quarters does alleviate her initial second of panic somewhat. The fact that said girl is currently sitting on the floor, at the foot of the bed, staring at her with an unimpressed tilt to her lips though is however… very unsettling.

"What the hell am I doing in your room?"

"And a very lovely morning to you too, sunshine. I personally had a horrible night. What about you?"

"Ray…"

Probably sensing the blonde's distress, the brunette deigns to reply honestly: "The Commander brought you here last night. You were out cold."

"Lexa?"

"Yep."

Clarke is… lost. She pinches her right arm. It hurts. So this is really happening. What did she do last night? She can remember playing chess against Lexa in her study… She must have fallen asleep and for whatever reason, the Trikru had carried her here… Fuck, how does one ask the Commander of the 12 clans why she chose to bring you to your friend's room instead of yours after you bewilderingly dozed off in the middle of a game?

"Why the hell would she do that?"

"Yeah, look, beats me. That girl is weird. She starts all our conversations with either detailed descriptions of the weather outside or waxing poetic about my workshop's ceiling. Complete weirdo." She stretches with a grimace and gets with some difficulty onto her knees before rising to her feet. "Yikes" she grumbles, stretching out her protesting limbs a second time.

"Wait… Did you sleep on the floor?"

"Well, where else was I supposed to sleep?" Raven replies in an accusatory tone.

"Oh, I don't know, in your freaking bed maybe? This thing is huge, Ray!"

Raven rubs nervously at the back of her neck. "Yeah well, considering how weird you're being about… everything, I'm not particularly looking forward to creating new… awkward situations, ok!"

"I'm being weird? You're the one who's been avoiding me for three weeks! This project to finish, that place to visit, this lame excuse and that unbelievable pretext…"

Raven looks at her as if she's grown two heads overnight. "You're not even able to look me in the eye, Clarke!"

"And you're not able to string together a full sentence without fumbling in my presence!"

"Oh, because "All the best" was so eloquent!"

The blonde flushes at that. Raven does have a point. Clarke hasn't exactly… been relaxed and articulate in the brunette's presence either, lately.

"I thought "All the best" was actually pretty inspired" she snickers, with a grin.

And it must be infectious, for the mechanic promptly follows with a grin of her own. The two girls look at each other for a beat before shaking their heads at how ridiculous they're being and laughing it out.

"Man it's good to have you back!" Raven exclaims between giggles.

"For real though. It has been awkward. How do we move past that?"

"We just do. There's no manual, no 12 step programme. We're friends. We're hot. We got kind of curious. Kind of horny. We fucked. I was into it. You definitely were into it. I was amazing. You were… what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yes: average. It's done."

"You bitch" Clarke chuckles out, before getting back on track: "So what… we just go back to how things were before, to being friends? Just like that?"

"Yeah! Now come on, get out of my bed, you spoilt princess. I'm hungry and I have to tell you about this latest thing Tijan does with his tongue."

"Ew, I don't want details and certainly not over breakfast."

"Deal with it, Griff. You're my friend. Probably best friend at this point – let's be honest, it's not like there's a line of hopeful candidates queuing outside – and well, that's what friends do. They talk. They over share. Part of the package. Now chop chop, let's get moving!"

"So what am I supposed to do while you two crazy kids are gone mentoring the little hedas? Heck, I may even miss the Commander!" Then, when noticing Costia's raised eyebrows, Raven promptly adds: "No offence Costia, but your girlfriend and I kind of have history."

The warrior smiles and shakes her head slightly. "None taken."

"Well, it's not like you're short on projects, right? Plus, we won't be gone that long."

"Yeah but tinkering on my own's no fun."

"Isn't that kind of your thing though, working on your own in your atelier? It's what you like doing…"

"It is, it is. Speaking of which, have you figured out what you're going to do when we go back to Arkadia?" She takes a long swig of the same honeyed concoction Lincoln had introduced Clarke to a couple of months back, only this batch is much less bitter and served hot in small glasses. And more treacherous, Clarke notes, as the trio is already on their fourth small serving bottle.

Costia turns a questioning look to Clarke, small frown creasing her brow: "You are leaving?"

"Uh… No, I mean… eventually, yes, of course. These negotiations have been going on forever as it is. I've been here for…" She counts it out on her fingers: "Shit, it's already been 8 months! We should soon be able to wrap it up. And when that's done and the alliance is officialized, then there's no need for me to remain in Polis..."

"Yeah, only Griff here, is in the middle of an existential crisis, because she doesn't know what to do back home and this ungrateful artist refuses to become my assistant, even though I'm hiring!" Raven fills Costia in.

"Like you'd want me as your assistant. I know nothing about mechanics, wires, frequencies or all that stuff" she replies playfully.

"What is it you like to do?" Costia asks her then, squinting her eyes in her direction.

Clarke passes a nervous hand in her hair to shake it out of her face. She feels strangely vulnerable, sharing these particular doubts and dilemmas with Costia. "That's the thing… I… There's a few things I already know I do like. Drawing for instance I really love. Capturing special moments on paper… Trying to translate a person's personality into a picture…"

"You're welcome. Is this a good time to start discussing an agent's fee?" Raven butts in cheekily.

Clarke just shakes her head at her friend's antics. "Then, well, my mom trained me as a healer, so that I could do. I'm not great at it, but I reckon I'm not bad either, you know. And it was fun playing the part of a village doctor back in Sinchuk, but I'm not sure I want to do this in Arkadia… I don't know. Remember the project I told you about, the hospital we want to build to cater for the whole area?"

The two girls nod.

"Well, that's going to be pretty awesome if it does see the light of day. But I don't think I want to be, you know, a manager, worrying about the day-to-day problems that will invariably arise. And I don't think I want to be a head of department either. You know, head of nursing, or head of the maternity etc."

"Wow, you guys are really talking big, if you're envisioning entire departments, Griff…"

"Yes, I told you: it's a really ambitious project."

"Lexa looks quite keen on making it happen" Costia reveals.

"She does. And it's great. It's just… I don't know how I could contribute to it."

"Do you want to?"

"I think so. At least the planning and launch phase, they sound the most challenging, you know."

"And my girl does like a challenge!" Raven throws with a wink in her direction, downing her glass.

The "my girl" nickname is… new. Raven's attempt at mocking their ridiculous embarrassment after the bathhouse. And surprisingly… it does kind of work.

"I'm sure Lexa mentioned there would be need for extensive negotiations with the villages potentially impacted by the project…" Costia offers.

"But see, that's the thing. First of all, I'm not a negotiator. I don't know how I got appointed to that role. Most of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, how to best approach an ambassador, which arguments to prioritize in order to change their mind... And with Lexa… fuck, it's more… fighting and shouting than anything else! Second, even if I were any good, there's other people who'd be much better at it than me."

"Like who?" Raven wants to know.

"Well, Lincoln for instance. With the kill order revoked, he could become the Chancellor's liaison for all the neighbouring villages… I know Kane's been thinking about it…"

Costia looks thoughtful. "Lincoln is indeed a useful resource that Skaikru would do well to use to its full potential. Although it remains to be seen what Octavia and Lincoln will do, now that he is a free man and she continues to prove herself admirably as Indra's second. That being said, it looks to me you are unaware of how… talented you are at obtaining things, Clarke." She pauses then and reaches out, resting her hand on Clarke's forearm. "Your… special dynamic with Lexa aside, you've accomplished something quite extraordinary here. Do you remember our conversation on the way to Polis? None of the clans were on Skaikru's side, except for Trikru. Now, several months later, you've been able through your discussions with their ambassadors to gain their respect and awaken their curiosity in Skaikru's potential contribution. That is not to be minimized."

Raven nods vigorously: "What she said! Although, I do think we should emphasize a little bit more the role a genius mechanic played in all that acceptance and a little bit less Clarke's blue eyes and great rack, you know."

Raven it would appear, has had a little bit too much to drink. And the role of carrying her from the night market to the Tower is probably going to fall to her. Great.

Lincoln suddenly appears out of nowhere, slightly out of breath. He seizes her elbow but doesn't pull. "Clarke, you need to come with me. Damian got into a fight. I broke it off but the group he was battling it out with, had already landed a couple of hits. He's in our room."

Shit.

She's out of her seat in a jump. Costia lets her arm go and gestures towards Lincoln: "Don't worry about Raven, I'll get her back to her room safely."

It's all Clarke needs to spring into action. She catches Raven's insulted protest that "she can handle her liquor just fine" and that "she wants to see Damian too", before rounding the corner at full sprint, just behind Lincoln. Her mind is one single prayer on repeat: "please, please, let him be alright!"

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"I do not make it a habit to kid, Clarke"

"Damian deserves to be there. His participation in this fight earned him a place on that stage. Show him he has your gratitude, acknowledge his involvement."

"You do not understand…"

"Here we go again!" the blonde interrupts her, throwing her hands up.

She chooses to ignore the sarcasm and over the top dramatics and closes her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She's of a patient disposition. She knows that, because it's been pointed out many times before. She inherited that from her father, or at least that's what he used to claim proudly to visitors. She can almost see him, calmly trying to bring her mother down from one of her customary tirades, but can't remember what used to draw the woman's ire. Some act of mischief by her or her sister, most probably. It used to be her only character trait Titus would praise when comparing her to her Natblida brothers and sisters. And it's not that her patience hasn't been tested in the past. Costia knows a thing or two about that. But Clarke's capacity to launch into agitated rants in the blink of an eye, all bare teeth and all-consuming rage, can be… trying sometimes. She exhales, before starting over.

"The challenge was issued to Lincoln. To lift a banishment that was his only and of his own doing."

She ignores the blonde's scoffed: "Oh, is that what we're calling it these days? "Banishment?" It was a floating kill order, Lexa!"

Still composed, she forges on, unperturbed. "Lincoln fulfilled the terms I set. In exchange, I will now lift the order on his head. Hence the ceremony. Your… The boy was never involved in this matter. The fact that he chose, of his own accord, to accompany Lincoln is irrelevant to me and I fail to see why I should contemplate having him there – leaving aside for a second his status."

"His stain you mean" the blonde spits at her.

And here it is: the real reason behind Clarke's anger.

"The Stained Ones are a matter for the 12 clans, Clarke. Rest assured that I'll seek your council on topics pertaining to Skaikru when I do need it."

She chalks the unnecessary bite in her tone up to being absolutely done with this unwelcome exchange. In fact, she was done with it the minute it started. Does Clarke not realize Lexa wouldn't allow any ambassador to waste her time on the fate of a single one of their subjects, a child no less, let alone in such a tone?

"Damian is my second. Anything pertaining to him concerns me" the blonde parrots back. "Just yesterday, a bunch of assholes ganged up on him and beat him up. You can change all that. You can show your people they are as deserving of respect as anyone else!" she volleys back heatedly.

Costia had filled her in on what had happened and she can see the topic is quite an emotional one for the blonde. Although Lexa's priority when hearing of the altercation had of course been to make sure the boy was alright, she can not reveal that, not even to the Skaikru.

Clarke is overstepping, yet again. A reminder of exactly who she's in the presence of shouldn't hurt. "I am aware of your rather unorthodox relationship. It is only out of respect to you, that I did not have him chased out of Polis the minute you brought him here."

Unlike with anyone else, her attempted intimidation only serves to fuel the girl's fire. Something Lexa should have anticipated. She already feels drained, just by looking at Clarke reeling back to better attack again.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Where do you get off? We've been through this before, you do not get to decide who lives and who dies, who deserves to start and live a life and who doesn't!"

She clenches her jaw hard. "And therein lies the heart of our misunderstanding, Clarke. Because that is, in a nutshell, exactly what I do." She throws one last look at the blonde before striding out.

One step forward, three steps back. It's… disheartening.

In the end, she's the one to bring it up. She's not entirely sure why. It hasn't particularly been on her mind. Maybe it's because of how off-balance the fight she just had with the girl in question has left her. Maybe it's because she's smart enough to know she'd better force this conversation before it bursts out of Costia at an inopportune moment. Or maybe she truly is a clumsy fool when it comes to women. Either way, it's happening and it's happening now.

The timing's ironic because exactly a year ago – give or take a couple of days – Costia walked out on her, pulling the rug from under her feet. It had left her going through the motions, still with a sense of purpose of course, but without any warmth or taste to her life.

"You haven't said anything about… Clarke" she starts with resolve, dread she'd be loathe to acknowledge pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Costia's reclining in one of the two small lounging chairs in front of the hearth. She doesn't look up from her book when she asks: "Clarke Clarke or you and Clarke?"

Lexa swallows and decides against playing this game. The silence stretches on.

Costia finally turns to face her, closing her book with a resigned sigh. "What is there to say, niron?"

She feels brave, so she crosses the room in just two strides and takes a seat next to her. Close, but not touching.

"The other day, what you saw, I was just carrying her to bed. It wasn't…"

"I know."

Costia's the one to reach out, which is a good sign. She cradles one of her hands in hers and diligently starts tracing the lines, creases and scars on her palm with one of her fingers. The touch is soothing, but it gives her lover an excuse not to look at her. And if Lexa's learnt anything, it's that… that is not a good sign.

"I… I understand. What it is you see in her" Costia continues. "Clarke is…" she seems at a loss, shakes her head, frowns and changes course: "She is not your equal."

"Not in title, no. But her spirit is…" she leaves the sentence incomplete, not sure of the word she's looking for.

Costia doesn't reply, just nods her head in response. She pauses and grits her teeth. Her fingers stop their pattern but she keeps Lexa's hands in hers. "I love you enough to know how formidable the two of you would be together."

It sounds… rueful, painful and sad. As if dragged out of her under duress. Lexa doesn't move, doesn't make a sound. She's probably stopped breathing too.

Another pause. "And I respect her enough to be able to see she could be good for you, in her own way."

She gets up with a huff, letting go of Lexa's hand. "And you can't… I never told you this but shortly before she was taken, Leïla made me promise something to her. She must have sensed trouble was brewing, that sixth sense of hers. She made me promise to love you completely and unselfishly. To put your needs above my own, always. And at the time…" She shakes her head, finally looking into Lexa's eyes. "At the time, it seemed so unquestionably self-evident. You were my heda, my lover, everything. You still are. So, I promised, with no hesitation whatsoever. And here I am, breaking my word. Too selfish to step aside. Too in love with you to let you go."

The words. The tone. The promise. It's all too much. Too heartbreaking. Too raw. How rubbish she must be at this, if her lover still thinks she wants another. She gets up, comes to stand in front of the dark-skinned girl and cradles her face in her hands, bringing their foreheads together. The gesture is too forceful to be gentle, yet too earnest not to be caring.

"I do not want you to let me go" she whispers with naked honesty. She needs Costia to comprehend that. It's too important. She's too important. "I want you. I do not want to be with her."

"You should. She would be good for you."

"You're good for me."

"I want to believe I am" she starts, before correcting: "I know I am." She sighs. "And yet it's not enough, is it?"

"It is, Costia. It is. You are. Beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. You're everything too."

Costia gives her a small sad smile then, their foreheads still pressed together, noses brushing each other.

"I understand. That you can't say it. That you probably don't even allow yourself to think it. It is who you are after all. That loyalty and honour. It's part of why I love you." She kisses her. It's gentle. Soft. Sad. Not broken, yet not whole either. She leans back, tenderly brushes a strand of hair behind Lexa's ear and whispers wistfully: "You could never lie to me."

"Costia…" Lexa doesn't want to let her go, but her lover's hands are already gently prying hers away from her face.

"I have to go. Wulan challenged me to a sparring session in the fighting pits tonight."

"Will you…" she swallows, not sure this conversation's meaning has fully sunk in yet. "Will you be back?"

Costia grabs parts of her guard uniform and reaches for the door. She doesn't turn back but gives a small nod before exiting.

Things are… inexplicably tense. She replayed in her head all their interactions as of late, but to no avail: Clarke can't think of any situation, of any potential faux-pas, that could explain Costia's sudden more reserved disposition.

And it… she doesn't like it.

So she left the brooding Trikru to her own devices and has been trying to engage in conversation with Lexa's little ducklings instead. And that… well, let's just say she still has a lot to learn about Trikru culture.

"What did you three want to become, before you were chosen to… train as the next Heda?" she tries.

She can see Naqib's frown all the way from here, Flora's disconcerted tilt of her head to the side. Thankfully, Ruben barrels through his friends' surprise, as eager as always: "We know from the moment we are born that we are Natblida, Clarke kom Skaikru."

Yes, ok, she figured as much, what with Ontari's black blood reveal and all, but that's not what she meant.

"But imagine you hadn't been… gifted with black blood, what do you think would you have liked to become? Warriors? Traders? Farmers?"

This follow-up question is met with the exact same startled expressions. Only this time around, even Ruben seems at a loss. And the resemblance with Lexa's face of puzzled concentration is… uncanny.

It's Flora who tries to set her straight: "We… We were destined to be Natblida, Clarke kom Skaikru. Imagining another life is… impossible."

"It is the highest of honours" Naqib chimes in, slipping a little bit further forward on his horse, back straight.

Well, there goes that conversation, then.

Flora surprises her by continuing thoughtfully: "But my sister is learning to be a healer. There is honour in becoming a healer, I would think. Maybe that is a path my spirit would have chosen in another life."

Clarke latches on to this titbit of information, desperate for anything but silence. "Oh, really? My mother trained me as a healer as well!"

"I know, Clarke kom Skaikru" Flora replies, almost rolling her eyes. "You tutored her. She told me all about it, could not speak of anything else but you for months afterwards."

She… What? This can't be right…

"I… are you sure that was me, Flora?"

The girl scoffs good naturedly. "Of course it was you. You stayed in her village for some time last year. You helped a girl in her class."

Wait… No way…

"Sinchuk? Your sister lives in Sinchuk?"

"Sha, together with my parents."

The revelation immediately transports her to a time that seems so long ago now, so far removed from the life she's living here, in Polis, that it leaves her disoriented. In the past year, she returned to her people and faced some of her demons. Yet… there's still so much left to do and so much lingering uncertainty.

The resemblance finally clicks: "You're related to Soko?"

Flora's visibly pleased that she memorized her sister's name and nods happily.

"Sha, she will be honoured to hear Wanheda remembers her."

What a small world after all! She recalls the young motivated girl very clearly from both her stint in Sinchuk and the girl's subsequent visit to Arkadia.

"Shabir didn't tell me a Nightblood was found in Sinchuk…"

"My family only moved to Sinchuk after I came to Polis for training. They fled the fighting at the border with Ice Nation."

That Shabir had definitely talked about: waves and waves of refugees, most continuing onwards, but some finding a new home in Sinchuk, despite the persistent threat of the Mountain.

"What is Soko up to these days? There wasn't anybody to train her when I left Sinchuk."

The girl gives a solemn nod. "Heda chose her to train with your people, in preparation of a… big health post, to be built near Lake Audo."

Clarke almost falls off her horse at the news. The hospital? Her mother didn't tell her anything about starting trainings already. She's delighted to hear things are moving in the right direction, yet a little bit hurt she wasn't kept in the loop. But this is neither the time nor the place.

"Her instructor is Jackson kom Skaikru" Flora continues.

She experiences a flash of… envy for a hot second. The idea of being out there, working on such a symbolic and collaborative project day in day out, while training young Trikru talent is appealing. If she's honest, more so than hashing out finer alliance details with Lexa over a chess game she'll inevitably lose. Yet, at the same time, there's something about Polis, something in Polis, that makes her almost feel melancholy at the idea of leaving. Strange.

"And how is she liking it?"

Flora regards her for a minute, trying to gauge how honest she can be.

"The cohabitation on site seems… not devoid of challenges. She says that certain of your people's customs are complicated to understand. But other than that, Jackson seems a capable teacher she can learn much from and he's shown himself to be open to some of her suggestions."

Clarke couldn't possibly imagine anybody not liking Jackson. The guy is gentle care personified. She pushes any impudent memory of her aborted tryst with the doctor far far away and laughs openly at what must no doubt be a very politically correct rephrasing by Flora of her sister's rants.

"I imagine our customs must indeed come across as quite peculiar. I'm glad to hear your sister chose to persevere in that field. Your parents must be very proud of their two over-achieving daughters" she throws in the girl's direction.

Flora becomes beet red at that and Naqib, who Clarke's noticed never misses a chance to tease her, jumps on the opportunity to kindly mock her, quickly joined by Ruben. Flora ignores the two boys and straightens her back in her saddle. It takes her a while to recover from the compliment, but when she does a small shadow passes over her face. Naqib, who's much more perceptive than he lets on, ceases his ribbing on the spot.

"I imagine they are."

"What do you mean?"

"We are not… We do not see each other" is all the girl replies.

Clarke frowns. Sinchuk is what, 2 to 3 days ride away from Polis, why wouldn't Flora be in touch with her parents, especially considering she seems to be talking with her sister?

Naqib tactfully comes to the girl's aid: "We are not allowed to see or talk to our families, Clarke kom Skaikru."

This doesn't make any sense. "But… with your sister…"

Naqib throws a surreptitious look over his shoulder, lowering his voice: "Flora's been sneaking letters to her sister in and out of Polis" he reveals. "You can not tell anyone, Clarke kom Skaikru! Titus would be very displeased to learn about it."

She nods gravely.

"Why just Flora, then. Why not all of you?" she whispers back.

Naqib shakes his shaggy jet-black hair, a touch of sadness in his eyes. "None of our families can read and write."

"So… none of you all…" She choques, the idea too disturbing. "You haven't… But your parents, they must want to know how you're doing…"

"They would be notified if anything were to happen to one of us."

"So, no news is good news?"

Naqib seems to ponder her words, the expression clearly unfamiliar, before nodding with a surprised frown. "Yes, no news, good news."

Clarke swallows down her shock. "You can trust me with your secret" she swears, trying to be worthy of the faith placed in her.

They make for an odd little trio: Naqib, ever the overconfident fighter with his two curved daggers slung snugly over his back; Flora, the quiet and cautious scout, most agile with a spear twice her size; and Ruben, impulsive and brave, his axe firmly in his grasp.

She understands that she somehow earned the right to be here, by launching the idea, but is still at a loss as to what she could possibly have to offer to aid their small party in their mission.

She's happy for the chance to leave Polis though. Spending an entire day at Damian's bedside, trying to clean the wounds on his bloody knuckles, while the boy laid on his side and stubbornly kept his back turned to her, facing the wall, refusing to let her see the rest of his body, had been trying, to say the least. If she's honest with herself, the frustration had no doubt been part of the reason why she had come out so strong in her subsequent fight with Lexa, which had put a – hopefully temporary – damper on their interactions and led to an unofficial suspension of their chess games.

Is that why Costia is giving her the cold shoulder?

She shakes the negative thoughts away. Damian is in good hands, with a very capable Lincoln and an overbearing Raven at his side. And Lexa is far away, coaching her own little troupe.

"I remember your sister was indeed quite good in reading and writing. I taught an English class in Sinchuk for a brief time."

Flora nods, again clearly already in the know. Clarke can't help but wonder what the young Soko had to say about her new and rather inexperienced teacher at the time.

"Clarke kom Skaikru" Naqib tries to catch her attention. He throws his two co-riders a short conspiratorial look, before turning, determined, to her. "We were wondering if maybe… the messaging device you spoke of the other day…"

"Messaging device?"

"Voice messaging?"

"Oh, you mean the radios?"

"Sha. We thought that maybe, the… radios… could help us communicate with our families;"

Oh boy… Of course they could and she's incredibly flattered they're coming to her about it, but she can't possibly promise the three now hopeful pair of eyes trained on her anything before discussing the matter with Lexa first.

She shifts uncomfortably in her saddle. "Uh… That's a very clever idea. And I'm pretty sure they could, I guess, I mean, provided your parents' villages are within the radius currently covered by the Tower. But you should probably discuss this with the Commander, no?"

Naqib nods, serious. "We will. We just wanted to know whether it was a possibility."

"Tell you what, maybe we can check in with Raven first, when we return. And then make a plan on how best to present it to Lexa?"

The trio looks very pleased with her proposal.

"Raven is the gifted inventor you spoke of?" Flora wants to clarify.

Clarke chuckles. "yes, she is, though don't call her that, her ego is already big enough as it is."

"Is Raven your partner, Clarke kom Skaikru?" comes from a pink Ruben and Clarke can see from the corner of her eyes his two co-conspirators lean in.

"Uh…" The question comes as such a surprise, it takes her a while to formulate a response. "You mean, life partner? Or lover?"

Ruben is no scarlet red and nods in response.

Clarke bursts into laughter. "No. You're not the first ones to ask me that though" she reveals, throwing a fond look back to Costia who's riding some way back.

"Are you open?" Ruben wants to know in a hoarse voice.

Open? Clarke likes to think of herself as someone who's rather open, yes. But open to what? Or… is that… the Trikru word for bisexual?

Flora tsks the boy and corrects him, while Naqib sniggers: "Ruben would like to know if you have anyone in your life."

"Oh!" She turns in her saddle to look at the boy in question, who looks back almost terrified. She tries to calm him down with a playful smile. "As a matter of fact, I do not, Ruben kom Trikru. Why, do you have someone in mind?"

It seems to be a little bit too much for the boy. His two friends dissolve into mocking giggles while he tries his best not to fall off his horse.

The whole exchange leaves Clarke feeling lightly wistful.

"How was the boy when we left?"

Oh, so now she's decided to speak to her? Clarke hesitates for a split second between pettily ignoring Costia or making peace, before giving in.

"Damian was… ok. He didn't let me care for his wounds, but he didn't seem to be in too much pain either. And Lincoln – because of course Damian lets Lincoln in and not me – says he was fine" she replies, unable to prevent some petulance from seeping into her voice.

Costia nods. "I am glad to hear it." She keeps her eyes trained on the three youngsters currently caring for the party's horses.

Ruben dragged two heavy buckets of water back from a nearby stream, Naqib is busy feeding them and Flora is grooming hers, while checking for bruises and cuts.

Clarke thinks she's going to leave it at that, uncertain how to deal with a moody Costia.

But the dark-skinned girl continues: "You shouldn't push her too much, you know."

Oh. There's no question as to who she means. She's referring to her shouting match with Lexa, right? So, does that mean it is the reason for the girl's attitude today? She wants to interject, but Costia beats her to it.

"She's already improved their situation tremendously."

"Really? Because from where I stand, Costia, it looks like the so called "Stained Ones" are shunned, abandoned and left to die. All because of some supposed imperfect development."

The Trikru releases a tired sigh, still supervising the Natblida from afar. Flora's now moved on to checking her horse's hooves and Ruben's off to refill the now empty buckets.

"I understand that the boy has come to… matter to you."

"The boy has a name. Damian. And he doesn't just… Damian's my family now. I don't know how else to explain it. What's happening to him, it's so unfair. I want to be there for him, just like he was for me… He's the one who found me, back in the forest. He brought me – a complete stranger – to a place where he was anything but welcome and stuck around for as long as it took me to recover."

Costia frowns: "You were injured?"

"I… that's not the point. The point is Damian or anyone else in his situation, they're just like you and me. Nobody deserves to be treated this way! They're her subjects, too, her people. How can she tolerate such harassment?"

"Previous Commanders used to actively hunt them, Clarke" Costia reveals, angling her face towards the blonde. "At least now they have a fighting chance. There is only so much Lexa can change."

And fuck. Seriously? The thought of hunting campaigns makes her shudder. But she's too… riled up to concede, doesn't want to try and see things from Lexa's point of view. Doesn't want to understand, or worse, empathise. Not tonight.

Naqib interrupts their tense exchange, calling for a strategy meeting around the fire. Clarke grabs her bedroll on the way and is surprised to see Costia unfold hers next to it. Maybe this isn't a fight. The thought is… reassuring.

Costia's a Godsend. The girl didn't just pack supplies to last them for the two to three weeks this outing is supposed to take. She also brought enough of that honeyed liquor Clarke's developed a soft spot for, for an entire regiment. The blonde takes a contented sip before passing the waterskin back to the Trikru.

"Thalia wanted to know if she should expect you back at the Baths any time soon."

Something in her eyes tells Clarke the girl knows exactly why she's avoided the place these past weeks.

She grimaces tipsily. "Ugh, you know." She brings her two hands up to her face, wishing she were able to hide right now. "Alright, who talked? Was it Thalia?"

Costia shakes her head no, smirking. "Tijan is a good friend of mine."

She groans. "Of course he is! God forbid there'd be some minimum amount of privacy in Polis."

"I used to be a member of the Polis Guard, Clarke, Polis has no secrets from me."

She gives a frustrated grunt in response, not knowing how to change the subject.

Costia however doesn't seem inclined to let it go just yet. "I understand the appeal. Tijan is quite the skilled lover and Rayven is… a stunning woman and close friend. Tell me, was the experience as pleasurable as you'd hoped?"

"No, nuhu, you and I are not going to discuss any of this and most certainly not Ray's many attributes or how… it all went down!" Clarke shakes her head at the whole situation (and her decidedly poor choice of words), setting aside for now the puzzling question of how Costia could possibly know Tijan's prowess in that department. She's got enough on her plate already, what with needing to find a way to make herself useful with the Nightbloods on this quest. Including how… appealing Costia looks illuminated by the fire's flames. And how close her bed is to hers tonight.

Yet her mouth doesn't seem to have gotten the memo, for she suddenly blurts: "Have you ever been with anyone else?"

What

The

Fuck

Did she… No. She can't possibly. No. There's no way she would ever have been so forward. So stupid.

Costia is clearly startled by the question.

And there go 6 months of painstakingly slow progress, trying to grow closer to the Trikru. Well done Clarke! Stupid, stupid, STUPID.

Costia completely floors her when she cocks her head to the side and asks, peering intently into her eyes: "In what sense?"

Wow. Ok. So… this is happening. They're actually having this conversation.

Clarke can feel the rush of blood to her neck and face. "I mean… uh…" Shit. Isn't the follow-up question already an answer in itself though? "Been in the sense of… you know…" Fuck, what vocabulary do Trikru use? She feels even clumsier than Ruben with his "open" question. "Lain down with someone… I… It's just… Since you mentioned Tijan and…"

Costia's penetrating gaze remains on her: "With or without Lexa?"

…

…

And some more …

Is Costia smiling? Is she laughing at Clarke's best impression of a deer caught in headlights? As it is, the blonde is unable to compute the question, the implication just… too much.

She must decide at one point that Clarke's suffered enough for her incorrigible curiosity – she blames the alcohol – for she finally offers, softly: "Lexa is enough. She is… my family," echoing Clarke's words of earlier.

The blonde can sense there's something there. Something she's supposed to understand. But she doesn't know Trikru codes. How is she supposed to know what Costia means by family?

The Trikru seems to be waiting for something. For the second half of the question, perhaps. But Clarke can't bring herself to stutter it out. She wants to know but also… doesn't, if that makes sense. Beause if the answer is… then…

Costia laughs some more at her, while Clarke playfully pushes her, complaining: "Stop laughing at me, it's no fun."

"I'm sensing speaking of such matters is not as common for Skaikru as it is for us…"

Yeah, that's one way to put it. "It… definitely isn't."

"Mhh"

Let's lighten things up, shall we? She relaxes back on her elbows, sagely deciding she's had enough inebriant for today. Her head hits the ground with more force than her calculations of space and distance would have predicted.

Yep, it's time to call it a night.

"Do you think Lexa'll be able to really stay out of it this week? I can't really see her sticking to an observer role. I mean… she is rather… competitive."

Costia's eyes crinkle in laughter, that same bright laugh Clarke's come to cherish. "That she is" she agrees, throwing Clarke a knowing look. "We'll just have to outsmart them."

Clarke scoffs. "Yes, like that's going to happen! I don't know about Aden and co, but she's a freaking strategic mastermind!"

"Have faith, Clarke. I've been with Lexa long enough to know how she thinks. I would venture the guess that you've also come to understand some of her thought processes and methods in the time the two of you spent together. If we combine our knowledge, I'm pretty sure we stand a chance."

Mhhh. Her head hurts. Her mind's buzzing pleasantly but the back of her head definitely aches in an unpleasant way. Clarke closes her eyes and forgets to reply.

She dreams of playing chess against an invisble opponent, hiding in the thick of the forest. Only this time, her most valuable piece is a dark-skinned Trikru warrior.

First comes the frustration upon discovering information missing or misrecorded in their maps. No surprises there, the whole idea for this outing does come from Lexa wanting them to learn the difference between superfluous, useful and vital information. Naqib and Flora bicker for an entire day over the absence of charted clearings, while Ruben tries to make sense of skewed distances with a cute little puzzled frown. The mounting tension between the three leaders in training doesn't escape their party's notice.

Clarke spends these days reminiscing, for around the same time last year, she was traipsing through similar terrain on her own, her nights inhabitated by the dead and her days consumed with cursing a young green-eyed leader to hell and back. She's wearing the same clothes, yet so much has changed since then. Sure, she and Lexa still have their problems, but she finds it hard to remember, let alone summon, the raging hatred she used to feel towards her. She can describe it in words, the emotions however, are gone.

And the nights? The nights she spends getting very very drunk with none other than Lexa's lover.

Then come the endless arguments over strategy, once they've reached their destination. Flora suggests a group discussion, a rather surprisingly democratic choice coming from a potential future Heda. The rules are clear: their sash needs to be placed somewhere within the designated perimeter. Opinions differ however, on how to protect it best: by placing it at unattainable heights up in the trees – Flora's Trikru through and through, Clarke muses – or barricading it in a cave somewhere.

She discovers with a shiver that Nightbloods and warriors alike, seem to consider her somewhat of an expert on how to defend and storm a natural stronghold. The thought is preposterous but with Costia's help, she plays along.

Naqib vetoes that they all vote on it, insisting instead the decision be left to the three of them plus Clarke and Costia, which turns into a rhetorical exercise for each little one to try and convince their two advisors. Ruben is the first to rally to Naqib's side. To make things more interesting, Clarke gives her vote to Flora, effectively putting Costia in the delicate position of tie-breaker. In the end, they settle on a decoy in the trees and a fortified base half underground.

Peace descends on the trio for a couple of days.

It's when essential equipment starts vanishing that the atmosphere takes a turn for the ugly. Ruben's shoelaces go missing and Naqib surprises them all by offering two of his braids in replacement. Nobody thinks anything of it at first. They wake up the following morning to discover several of their waterskins pierced. Some of them start suspecting foul play. They double the patrols along the perimeter and increase the number of sentinels, which means less warriors for scouting duty and sets their initial hope to discover the other group's base back. The disappearance of all of their horses, two days later, leaves no space for doubt.

Clarke is surprised at how good of a team she and Costia make, not once does anyone suspect them of sabotage. Freeing the horses had been a piece of cake: she had sneakily worked Naqib and Flora up over the course of two days, goading each one into challenging the other to a fight. The duel had been the perfect diversion, allowing Costia to make quick work of the animals' leads and shoo them away. She can see how the girl would make for an amazing scout: silent on her feet, deadly efficient in her actions and quick in her thinking.

After the initial shock, consternation, panic and shouted accusations, the nightblood trio decides to interrogate each warrior in their party, one by one, trying to suss out the traitor. Or traitors, plural, as Flora is quick to remind them. Torture is not yet on the table, but Clarke fears it's just a question of time. Yet it doesn't even cross their mind to include Clarke and Costia on the list of suspects.

She sinks down with a tired sigh next to the silent liaison, whose eyes are trained on the tent where Naqib and Flora are presumably playing "good Trikru bad Trikru." The girl doesn't look at her but lifts the bottle she was sipping from in a silent welcome. Clarke rubs at a sore spot on her arm, trying to put her inner turmoil into words, while reaching for Costia's delicious brew. She's beyond relieved that part of their tasks is behind them, but senses they won't get much sleep tonight.

"I have to say, I expected this whole adventure to be more fun. I was against the sabotage idea, by the way. Fighting their way through unfamiliar terrain with faulty maps seemed enough of a challenge to me."

Costia gives a small smile then. "I know. I was the one who suggested it."

And… Well. Fuck.

Of course she did.

"Don't you feel… I don't know. I can't help but think we're messing with these kids. How are they to learn to trust an adult figure once they discover we've been behind this all along?"

Costia seems so surprised by her question she momentarily forgets about the nightbloods and turns to her. "Heda can trust no one, Clarke. This should serve as a reminder to all of them never to let their guard down."

"Seriously, you too? See, what I don't understand is how Lexa, how Titus, how you even, can tell me that, when she clearly does trust people. She's got advisers. I saw how much Anya and Gustus meant to her. Hell, she's got you. How can that possibly fit in such a distrustful world view?"

Costia's eyes change then. She tilts her head and looks about to say something but remains silent for a while. "We spent years earning that trust, Clarke. And… the principle still stands."

That doesn't sound at all like what the girl wanted to say. "Nah, I'm not buying it. I don't think you believe in this for a single second." She takes a long swig. There goes her decision to remain sober tonight.

Costia's staring at her. "Is that so?"

Clarke squints her eyes, scrutinizing the Trikru girl who shares Lexa's bed. That Lexa would in her twisted head find a way to disassociate a sacrosanct principle from her own practices, she's willing to believe. But Costia looks like somebody who must have fought, so damn hard, against these very teachings. For her to now defend them… She realizes with a frown she's actually never seen Lexa and Costia together in the same room, despite staying in Polis for more than four months now. Strange.

"In fact, I think you profoundly disagree with Titus on that point – because it is him, who's coming up with all these bullshit rules, isn't it?"

Costia lets out a long exhale, her eyes wandering back to the tent. "I think you are confusing caring with trusting."

This makes her pause and throws her back to a whispered conversation in front of a burning pyre, what feels like ages ago. She looks away, unable to face Costia for what she's about to say.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do use trust and caring interchangeably. But I don't see and I don't want to differentiate between the two. You know I actually… I didn't know about you in the beginning. When she said all these things… She spoke of Leïla and I thought…"

"She mentioned Leïla to you?" Costia interrupts her, and she can see the girl is fighting a frown.

"Kind of. I… I had just lost someone who… meant a lot to me. I think it was an attempt to… offer comfort. Anyway, I really thought she believed in what she was saying. About caring being a weakness. But then I hear she actually has you… and I don't… I don't understand, why she would say these things. How she could possibly think them, with you in the picture."

Costia looks undecided before she replies: "Lexa tried… You are correct, there was a time I profoundly disagreed with Titus' teachings. What I didn't understand at first, not really, is how… different it all is for someone in her position. I've seen too many attempts on her life, Clarke. Too many betrayals. I… may not necessarily agree with forbidding the Natblida to care about others and may have fought for her to let me in, but I do think that Heda can not afford the luxury of fully trusting anyone."

"But you are there. By her side. Day in, day out. You have to believe that exceptions to the rule are necessary or useful at the very least. Clearly you must think it's made a difference, had a positive impact on her or her reign" Clarke pushes.

"I… I need Lexa."

The raw admission, so simple and yet so beyond anywhere the two ever ventured to before, is like a punch to the gut. "Need" is yet another concept, more sanguine, almost desperate. Clarke's always been a little bit of a masochist, so why stop there…

"And she needs you."

Costia looks uncomfortable at her words – a first – and doesn't reply.

"I saw your interactions with your mother, Clarke. You care for her, yet you do not entirely trust her…"

A bitter smile makes its way to Clarke's lips at the reminder. "Point taken. So, we both agree that caring is allowed, better yet caring should be encouraged. And will argue some more about whether that includes trusting the person or not, deal?"

They share a small grin before falling into a strange silence. Clarke sneaks occasional looks at the brooding Trikru, wondering if she went too far. She scratches her chest.

"So you're ok with all this" she nods in the direction of the tent. "They're losing precious time…"

"What would you have done differently in their situation? All signs point to treachery. Their only mistake so far is to have completely overlooked us."

Clarke sighs. Costia does have a point: she's not sure she'd have handled the situation any better. Something's itchy and she rubs her arm against her leg. "Are they really going to have to fight – to kill – each other, to become Heda?"

"That has been the fate of all Natblida so far."

Yes, but that is not really an answer to her question. "Is that another one of those things Lexa can't change?" Clarke challenges, with less bite than she'd like.

"What makes you think she wants to change it?"

"I do have eyes. I've seen how Lexa looks at the little ones. Hell, I've seen how they look at her. I don't see Lexa – as attached as she can be to past traditions – willingly sending them to slaughter each other in the night."

For a beat there, Costia looks like she's about to remind her of how presumptuous she's being, assuming she knows or understands anything about Lexa. Yet when she does speak, it's to admit: "The conclave is one of many things Lexa is considering making some… adjustments to."

"What's stopping her?"

"Titus is rather… set in his ways."

Clarke chuckles, finishing the last drops Costia's left for her. "That's one way to put it. What's up with this guy? I don't think I've ever felt so much hate or contempt, depending on which day of the week it is, radiating off of anyone in my presence."

"I can assure you, you're not the sole focus of Titus' disapproval" Costia replies with a smirk, producing a second bottle from behind her.

She hadn't thought about it, but it makes sense. If Costia is one of the reasons why Lexa broke the "code", that would probably make her enemy number 1 in Titus' eyes. In fact, this makes much more sense than why the man would have a problem with her.

She chuckles. "It's so unfair, if you think about it. I mean, you're sleeping with his most precious nightblood, of course he's going to hate you. Whereas, I didn't do anything! I just protected my people. And even his whole spiel about Lexa appearing weak because of me doesn't really stand, since she's got everyone convinced we owe our victory over the Mountain to her."

"An acceptable bargain, I assure you" Costia replies with an evil glint in her eyes.

It takes Clarke's brain too long to catch on, still stuck on the girl's teasing grin. Of course destroying the Mountain was worth it, even if Lexa reappropriated their victory – at least among her people. Why…

Oh.

See, the thing is, she did – does – want to get to know Costia better. And well, she'll admit that she may be just a tad curious about her relationship with Lexa. But hints on how great their sex life might be? Nope, Clarke did not sign up for that.

She scratches her arm before reaching for the bottle. It looks like she's going to need much more liquor tonight than anticipated.

Costia frowns when she catches her gesture. "That's the sixth time you do that."

"What, drink?"

"No" Costia doesn't elaborate, extending her palm instead and nodding in the direction of Clarke's left arm.

The blonde lifts it slowly, uncomprehending. Costia takes a hold of her wrist and gently rolls her sleeve up. And fuck. There are at least ten little angry-looking red dots visible to the naked eye. The scratching of earlier suddenly makes a lot more sense.

"Shit."

"When did the itch start?" Costia wants to know, passing a light finger over the scratch marks, before releasing her arm.

Clarke shakes her head in thought: "Today". She lifts her shirt and sure enough, similar dots can be found on the left side of her abdomen. Yikes. She gets up, agitated. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

Costia pinches her lips, suppressing a smile at her antics. "I'm afraid you may have made problematic friends, Clarke."

No shit, Sherlock.

"No, this can't be happening. Fuck! Do you think they're in my clothes?" Worse: her underwear? The idea is so gross she makes a disarticulated full-body jolt. "Please, please, please don't be in my clothes!"

Costia throws a look to the tent, where Naqib and Flora are still at it, the line of guards they have yet to speak to long. "We can look for them together, if you wish."

They retreat to a quieter sheltered space not far away from camp, with Costia carrying a long torch for them to see.

"Do you mind?" she asks the girl pointedly.

Costia looks like she doesn't understand at first, before she gives a loud laugh and turns away with an unapologetic smirk. "We visited the Baths together, Clarke. Besides, daylight is almost gone."

"Yeah, well, if you'll recall, I was still… wearing things in the bathhouse…"

"Oh, I recall alright."

She decides to ignore the comment, not sure how to read it. "Not everyone is comfortable with walking around stark naked in front of others. And god knows what these little buggers have done to me… So I'm probably doing you a favour."

She strips and reaches for Costia's offered spare clothes. The girl is taller than she is by at least a full forehead. Her shirt is a little too tight around the chest and loose around the shoulders, which must look quite weird, but she's not really in a position to complain.

They kneel down, heads close and breaths mingling and meticulously comb through her clothing without finding anything. Costia seems… distracted and Clarke huffs in annoyance once they're done.

"You should burn those. Just to be sure."

It'd be the sensible thing to do. Yet the thought of losing her blue jacket, one of the few last things she's got left from the Ark, is a little bit too much for her right now and she hastily grabs it back from Costia. "Maybe later," she offers, embarrassed.

Costia chooses not to argue. "You also need new ones" she offers, gesturing to Clarke's bra.

Discussing her underwear is pretty high in her list of topics she wishes not to discuss with the Trikru girl, but Clarke must admit the item in question – or rather the few strings that remain of it – do look quite sad.

"Yeah, it's on my list of things to do in Polis before heading home."

Costia nods, seemingly happy with the answer. "We can check your cot next."

Discovering bugs in the folds of her bedroll is a bittersweet victory. For she knows the Trikru's solution to it, even before she says the words and Clarke watches her sleeping bag burn, with a single question running around her head in a loop: where the hell is she supposed to sleep tonight?

Their evening is quite uneventful after that. Naqib and Flora finish their sessions with the agitated frustration of empty handed inquisitors, while Ruben looks relieved. The general atmosphere remains tense, all their plans temporarily put on hold. When the trio comes to them for advice, Costia and Clarke stick to a role of observers and refuse to provide any, as agreed upon with Lexa beforehand.

After the third bottle, the time comes to call it a day. Clarke, who is more than a little tipsy by now – God how she loves the lightness that comes with it – looks dejectedly at the ashes of her cot, unsure of how to proceed. She turns away and discovers that Costia's silently deconstructed her own to make space for two.

And well, what choice does she have but to accept?

Aden comes to her at nightfall, when she's wrapping up her meditation. She hears his quiet footsteps on the dark moss approach, keeps her eyes closed until he's standing in front of her. He must have come to learn her routine, to know he's not interrupting her any more. She opens her eyes.

He waits for a beat, before sitting down next to her, in a less relaxed pose than she's grown accustomed to seeing in the privacy of the library. He doesn't look at her.

"This is not just an exercise for us to learn to read maps and elaborate strategies accordingly, is it?" he asks.

And she's… ashamed to admit she may be a little bit surprised that he figured it out. It's twice now Aden surpasses her expectations. She should know better.

"What else could this be?"

"You trying to test us. See how well we handle different – difficult – situations."

She looks at him and allows herself a small proud smile, while his eyes remain trained to the side.

"There is no traitor, is there? I mean. There is, but it's you, isn't it?" he starts over. "This is all just a test…"

"What makes you think that?" she wants to know.

"It… makes sense" he gives a small rigid shrug. "I understand. It's a useful experience" he shrugs again.

She knows what he doesn't say. That he doesn't like it one bit, doesn't like arguing with Iro and Silas, doesn't like this air of suspicion that's been hanging over them all. "What will you do?"

"First, I need to know: are the others going through the same thing? Were their water supplies also tampered with? And their mounts taken?"

Lexa inclines her head in assent.

"So they're probably squabbling, just like we are" he concludes with a contemplative whisper and serious eyes.

She doesn't offer anything, interested in following his line of thought.

"This is an opportunity to tip the scales and gain an advantage" he looks up, searching her face for validation.

"Maybe."

It seems to be enough, for he rushes to his feet and runs back to camp, no doubt to share his findings with his fellow Natblida. She's happy to see that even through this ordeal, the trio, while suspicious of everyone else, continues to find strength in each other.

"Will you stop moving anytime soon?" the Trikru asks in mock irritation.

"Will you stop pulling the blanket to you anytime soon?" she parrots back with a childish huff.

"Is this how you treat all your bedfellows?"

"Is this how you treat yours?"

Costia laughs, soon joined by Clarke. And… laughter is good, perfect even, for she needs the distraction. Otherwise she'd obsess over the fact that she's currently sharing a very small space in very thin clothes with... Lexa's lover.

How the hell did that happen, seriously?

Costia turns to her, propping her head up on her hand. She seems to ponder a retort and settle on: "You are planning on sleeping, correct?"

"Yes, although I'd love to sleep and not catch a cold in the process."

"Oh, so it's not about sharing a bed and simply how you usually reward kindness, then, by making people's life impossible?"

And there it is again. That playful double entendre. That teasing glint. The alcohol is making her head fuzzy, her heart beat a tad faster. It's one of those multiple crossroads: she could ask Costia how she would like to be rewarded instead. She knows how to play this game. But…

She goes for an in-between. "I find it hard to believe the Commander lets your thieving hands anywhere near her."

Costia is stunned into silence by her reply, disbelieving eyes regarding Clarke with amusement. It would appear she's had a bit too much to drink too, if the stars in her eyes are any indication.

"Oh, I can assure you the Commander has no recriminations when it comes to my hands…"

Not so much of an in-between, now, was it? Great, how is she possibly supposed to catch any sleep with this type of banter and the images it brings forth? Shit shit shit. She feels feverish and slow. Boundaries, that's what they need. Clear ones – in addition to Costia being the partner of their world's most powerful leader, that is.

Clarke clears her throat trying to bring some much-needed wetness back. "The other day. When I asked about… you and Lexa… it wasn't… I shouldn't have. It's not my place, none of my business."

It doesn't take Costia long to understand what moment she's referring to and Clarke is not sure she's able to read the multitude of emotions that run through her expressive eyes correctly.

"I was surprised you'd want to know about… our arrangement." Her eyes are trained on Clarke, searching.

The air is so charged right now, she feels their bubble could burst any moment. Costia's being honest. Clarke's not sure she can repay her in kind though. It'd be too…

"I… Well, with what happened with Raven and Tijan I… It's maybe opened my eyes to… I don't know, I'm just curious to hear about other couples, that's all" she deflects, avoiding the girl's gaze.

"Mhmhh." Costia lies back down, eyes to the stars.

Clarke closes her eyes and readjusts the blanket. Time to give sleeping another shot. She's started drifting when Costia brings her back to the present.

"I'd imagine it would take someone we've both come to… care about a lot, for Lexa and I to ever invite them to our bed." She turns her back to Clarke and doesn't say anything else after that.

Yeah, she's not going to get any sleep tonight.

Ruben flees, speechless, the following morning upon discovering Clarke spent the night in Costia's bed, while an awkward Naqib remains behind, pondering the scene. The three Nightbloods look profoundly relieved when Clarke shows them the spots on her arms and explains what happened. Ruben kindly offers her a pair of thick green socks, before launching into a spontaneous camp-wide collection of superfluous clothing items for Clarke. His suggestion the blonde woman take his bed instead, is met with good natured hilarity, and it doesn't look like Naqib or Flora are going to let him live this one down any time soon.

Just like that, their group of misfits moves past the heavy tension of the past week and throws itself into fortifications and planning with renewed enthusiasm. She's now wearing a decidedly strange mix of various items, but what the ensemble may lack in aesthetics, it makes up more than tenfold in warmth and comfortableness. Costia's undershirt in particular, is soft and soothing against her irritated skin.

She's presented with two new garments that evening: another pair of Ruben's socks. These ones are red-orange and just like the previous pair, were sent to him by his family, a blushing Ruben explains. And loose grey pants, offered to her by a rather alluring female warrior. An imposing redhead, whose nose looks like it's been broken one too many times, with sparkling eyes and a flirtatious smirk. When the guard in question offers to show her how to tie them and pull the top flap down over her midsection, Clarke's pretty sure she's not imagining the implied promise.

"I'm sure Wanheda can figure out how to put trousers on, on her own, Saskia" Costia intervenes with an annoyed tick to her jaw Clarke remembers from their first interactions back in Arkadia.

Saskia seems on the verge of saying something but decides against it. She throws Clarke a laden "The offer stands, should you change your mind. Or grow tired of present company" before departing.

Costia huffs, before rummaging through her satchel for a little something sweet to drink.

"Any reason why you so rudely sent her away?" Clarke wants to know, more curious than upset. There has to be history there.

The Trikru rolls her eyes. "Saskia is… She can be very forward sometimes."

"Maybe forward is good? Welcome even? Besides, I could swear someone told me Trikru were… what was it... so much more open and relaxed about these things…"

Costia shakes her head at her with a smile. "I shouldn't have intervened. I apologise, Clarke" she starts, serious, before adding, with a twinkle in her eyes: "You should be able to receive all the help you need to clothe yourself."

Clarke playfully pushes her arm. She looks back at the warrior – Saskia – who's now sparring with a man Clarke's seen once or twice around the tower. She hesitates, because this isn't Raven or Octavia. Costia was always… different. But hey, she herself ventured there last night, so she might as well follow her lead.

"She's quite hot."

Costia frowns. "Hot?"

"Sexy?" she tries to find a synonym.

Costia's frown deepens.

"Uh… You know, how you would describe Lexa, for instance: appealing?"

"Oh. Why would heat determine interest?"

"It doesn't, it's an expression."

"To signify appeal."

"Yes, or how attracted one is, I guess."

"Mhhh. Hot." The Trikru seems to try out the word for herself. "Lexa's hot. Wouldn't you say?"

Yeah, no. Nope. No way. And they're not even drunk yet. She throws the girl a quick look: she still looks friendly and playful.

"Nuhu, I am not going to answer that."

"Why not?" Costia challenges her.

"Because it's a trick question!"

The dark-skinned girl opens and turns her palms up: "There is no trick, Clarke…"

"Not like that, but if I say no, you'll probably be offended in your… in her name. Worse, word will get to her and I'll have to deal with a bruised ego when we get back – not that I think Lexa's vain, mind you, but the girl can sulk. And if I say yes, then I'll be lynched because "how dare I say that about your girlfriend or look at the Commander like that." So no, you'll have to excuse me but I'm staying out of this one."

Costia interrupts with a frown: "Lexa's not a friend."

…

"I know that…"

"You said she was my friend…"

"What? No, I… Oh! You mean girlfriend? "Girlfriend's" a word we use in these types of situations. It means partner… lover."

"Oh" she mulls it over. "So, I could say that… my girlfriend is hot?" she throws to Clarke with a cheeky smile, quite proud of herself for paying with Skaikru terms.

Clarke hides her face in palms. "Yes, I guess you could say that." The words have an extra quality to them, on Costia's lips, a foreign sound that makes them more appealing. Sexier.

Once they're tucked under Costia's pelts, Clarke's thoughts running miles with the heady feeling that comes from warm alcohol, she's suddenly reminded that her skin is very much still itchy.

"Not this again" Costia protests weakly when Clarke starts rubbing her arm, jostling their whole sleeping arrangements in the process.

"It's not my fault. I'm the victim here" Clarke whines.

"The more you scratch, the more it'll itch, Clarke."

"But it burns!"

Costia sits up with a displeased sigh, looking sternly down at her. "If you do not cease immediately, I will…" she seems to look for an appropriate threat. "I will… tie your hands and feet."

Clarke continues, undeterred, desperately trying to quench the

Costia throws the covers off, cutely miffed. "Enough. Get up" she groals.

"Why?"

"Get out."

"What? You wouldn't dare!" Clarke exclaims, scandalised.

"If you won't let me sleep, then you're on your own."

"But… where else am I supposed to sleep? You're the one who burnt my cot!"

"It looks to me you've received plenty of offers recently. You would make Ruben the happiest boy in all Polis were you to take him up on his offer. And Saskia is… how did you put it? "Hot." So explain to me, why I should bear this burden, when you show so little consideration for my own needs and are clearly not in want of options."

This sobers Clarke up. She knows Costia's not really exasperated but understands the sentiment as genuine.

"Fine, fine" she capitulates, throwing her hands up and trying to convey sincerity. "I won't move. I promise."

Apparently reassured, Costia nods her head once before lying back down.

Clarke has to concentrate so hard on not scratching herself, she can't even think of striking up a conversation. Which is why Costia's next words take her quite by surprise.

"The other day, you spoke of someone dear to you."

It takes Clarke a while to place the reference. Finn. She grimaces involuntarily.

"Yes." She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, all thoughts of scratching herself momentarily gone. "His name was Finn."

"I'm told I can be a good listener, should you ever desire to share."

Clarke chuckles darkly. "If you think my relationship with Raven as it is, is fucked up, then I don't even want to imagine what you'll think hearing this."

Costia seems disconcerted by the sarcasm. "I do not consider it… "fucked up" Clarke. It seems to me a very strong relationship you can rely on. In my experience, those are the best kinds of friendships."

"Yeah, no, you're right. Raven and I happened to… date or fall for the same guy."

"Finn"

"Yes. Finn… He came with me and the others. The first group of Skaikru."

"The 100, correct?"

"Oh, right, I forgot you actually already know all this." It's funny that although as non-intrusive as it gets, Clarke doesn't really consider not replying to Costia's gentle prodding. "So, we all came down together, and… well… Finn and I grew closer. It was all such a… mind blowing an experience, you know, coming down to Earth, discovering it's not a death sentence, feeling like the only people alive and then discovering it's already inhabited. Finn, he was… charming, strong willed, so certain we could live in peace with you. Something happened. Between the two of us, I mean. We were never together together, you know. But there was… something. We connected. But then Raven arrived."

"Rayven did not come down with the rest of you?"

"Oh, no. Raven actually came down on her own. It's a completely mad story, when you think about it, you'll have to ask her to tell it to you some time. Basically, my mom and her rehabilitated this old pod."

"Pod?"

"Space vessel. And Raven used it to come down on Earth. Anyway, when she did, I discovered that Finn was in a relationship with her, back in the Ark. And not just any type of relationship, we're talking first love type of connection, you know. It led to a lot of drama."

"You could not join them?"

The idea is so beyond the realm of possibilities in Clarke's mind, that it takes her quite some time to catch on. "Uh. That's not how it works. I mean, they were in a committed relationship. Just the two of them. You know."

It's Costia's turn to inhale and exhale slowly. "People change. So do relationships."

"Yeah, I don't think Raven nor I were anywhere ready for these types of questions back then."

"Mhhh. But you would be now?"

There's something about the question that makes her suddenly nervous. So she answers fast and off kilter. "With Raven? No. We… I mean, what happened at the Baths was great. And I really needed it. But, we're just better off as friends, you know?"

"Anyway," she continues "we fought. Finn and I. Raven and I. Raven and Finn. It got really messy. And then, then the Mountain happened and Finn, I don't really know what went through his head, but he kind of lost it while looking for me in the forest and… he started shooting at Trikru in a village."

"I remember hearing of the slaughter. 17 innocent people lost their lives."

Clarke swallows. "Yes." It comes out garbled. "Lexa made his death a pre-condition for peace talks. We fought with the council on whether we should or not give him up. In the end, he surrendered on his own. And, well, the rest you already know. He was sentenced to death by a thousand cuts."

"But you intervened."

"Intervene" is… not exactly the word she would have used. "I did. Lexa told you?"

"We did not speak of the incident, but I heard the stories."

"Stories?"

"Word travels fast amongst armies and warriors bring back tales of their time away when they return to their towns and villages."

"There are stories about Finn?"

"There are stories about you" is Costia's soft reply.

"About me killing him?" Clarke's not sure how she manages to utter the words, considering the huge lump in her throat.

"About you offering him a sweeter death."

"Is that what the stories talk about, me robbing Trikru of their justice?"

Costia seems to weigh her response. "No. They're about you – Skaikru – offering justice without us needing to get it for ourselves."

As willing as she was to give Costia the big picture, she's not sure she's ready to delve into the aftermath, at least not when it comes to her.

"They shouldn't… Finn was so much more than this one horrible thing. He deserves – deserved – to be remembered for so much more."

"Which you and Raven are ensuring."

"Raven was… devastated."

"I imagine Raven wasn't the only one."

"I… I'm… It doesn't hurt as much. But it took time, for the two of us to rebuild some semblance of friendship" she deflects. She turns to her side, back to Costia. It's not that… she's not upset. She just suddenly feels very tired, drained even. Her head is heavy, the delicious exhilaration gone and she'd like to go to sleep now. She'd like to stop talking about this.

She doesn't fight it when an arm slowly slides around her midsection. The gesture is… completely unexpected yet at the same time comforting. Welcome.

"Thank you for trusting me" comes muffled from behind.

"She was wrong."

"Mhh?"

"Lexa. She said something. That his death would haunt me forever. But it's nothing. Nothing in comparison…"

She scoots back, molds herself to the body she's now envolped in and focuses on her breathing. 1. 2. 3. She's out at 4.