Author's Note: Happy Holidays and Merry Everything! Here's another chapter as we start the end run. I'm guessing another four chapters at this point to wrap things up, but that's always subject to change.

Cover Art for the story is from the LexaRecovery tumblr. Stay strong together.

I do not own the television show "The 100" or make any claims upon it or its characters. Similarly, I do not own Frozen, its characters or any Disney characters or property. All these characters are used under the concept of Fair Use, and I make no profit or income from using any of them.

Our Fight Is Not Over

by Jo K.

Chapter 14: Time Is the Perfect Predator

And the company you keep

Well, they plan your crucifixion as we speak

So baby, 'til life and the dream collide

There's gonna be a mystery underneath those neon lights

If you can't decipher just who's on your side

You'll not escape the rising of the tide

-The Killers, "The Rising Tide"

—O—

—O—

"I think we've reached an agreement, then," Marcus Kane spoke before the entire Council of Arkadia, minus Charles Pike, who remained in custody in the brig.

"I understand that this spreads the guards thin, but it's necessary, I promise you," replied Clarke Griffin, looking around to meet the eyes of all the Council members, even Hannah Green. Monty's mother had her hands bound in front of her, but she was still under constant scrutiny not only by Lincoln, who remained just to the side of Pike's former conspirator, but by Elsa and Anna, who flanked Clarke on either side.

The stern look in their eyes made it quite clear that no one was going to make an attempt of Clarke's life without serious and probably fatal consequences.

"I had hoped for more than twenty guards to join the battle against Nia, but I understand that's still over a third of all the guards," Clarke said. She turned to fix Hannah with a glare. "And, of course, we've had a clear demonstration of what a handful of people with assault rifles can do against a much larger force of Grounders. Isn't that right, Hannah?"

"You're being ridiculous, Clarke," Hannah said, her voice controlled but still with hostility in her tone. She looked around the room at the other Council members. "I cannot believe you're just handing us over those barbarians to be executed!" she snarled out, finally raising her voice.

"The only one who is going to be executed is Pike," replied Clarke, her patience wearing then. "Lexa and I will work out some other punishment for the rest of you, but all of you will keep your life, as long as you don't force her hand."

Clarke looked over at Harper, who still had the remnants of tears in her eyes from Clarke's declaration several minutes ago that all of those who had participated in the massacre of the three hundred Trikru sent to protect Arkadia would be accompanying her back to Polis.

Because Monroe was included in that group. Even with Clarke's promise that Monroe would live, Harper couldn't help but anticipate the worst possible outcome, because more often than not, that was exactly what you got on the ground.

Clarke looked around the room once again. "Thank you," she said, emphasizing the words carefully. "I mean it. THANK. YOU." She paused, then continued. "Because of all of you working with Lexa and me, we've reached a landmark agreement between Arkadia and the rest of the Clans. This agreement—somebody better with words than me needs to come up with a cool name for it—shows that Arkadia can work with the other clans, even under difficult circumstances, to establish and follow treaties which benefit all parties involved."

Clarke smiled, looking first at Kane, then at her mother. "I'm ending the blockade around Arkadia as of now. All the Trikru that were maintaining the blockade will be pulled back and converted into a perimeter of guards, giving Arkadia extra protection without being so close as to feel threatening. I'd encourage adding a few of Arkadia's guards or even some volunteers to a few of those units, so that you and the Trikru can get to know each other better.

"We really do have a lot to teach other. They have a century of experience in surviving on the ground. We have knowledge that's been lost to them for the same amount of time. It's going to be slow going, but we have all the time in the world to learn to be better neighbors."

"I do have one request to make, Clarke," said Kane, lifting his hand briefly to get her attention.

Clarke turned to look at him. "What's that, Marcus?"

Kane smiled pleasantly. "I'd like to accompany the Arkadian forces to Polis."

He stood up, then turned to face Abby, a few seats away from him around the table. "Abby is the current Vice Chancellor, and she's more than capable of running things while I'm away." Seeing hesitation on Clarke's face, he said, "I do bear the brand of the Coalition of Clans, Clarke. And symbolism is important in Grounder culture, correct?"

Surprised, Clarke nodded. "Yeah, it is."

He dipped his head briefly at her acknowledgment. "I also think Arkadia will be more respected if its Chancellor is personally present for what is to come, rather than staying at home protected by a ring of guards." He looked over at Hannah. "And besides, it was Arkadians who carried out the slaughter of those Trikru sent to protect us. Their Chancellor should be present to witness and accept the Commander's judgment on Charles and those who participated in that horrific event."

Clarke smiled softly. "You're good at this, Marcus," she said pleasantly.

"I try to pay attention, and to learn from my mistakes," he replied with a matching friendly smile. "And thank you."

David Miller's hand quietly went up.

"Yes, Mr. Miller?" Clarke asked reflexively before shaking her head and smiling self-deprecatingly. "Sorry. Yes, David?"

He looked a bit hesitant before he spoke. "Can you explain a bit more about this... magic?" he asked. "I mean, it's hard to believe." He looked at the blonde seated beside Clarke, then at the redhead on Clarke's left. "I apologize if my skepticism offends you, Your Majesties, but it's hard to believe."

Elsa smiled patiently. "Clarke was much the same way when we first met," she said calmly. "For Anna and myself, magic is part of who we are. I was born with it, and her connection to it came through our love for each other. As such, it's been part of our lives for decades."

Anna slowly stood, pushing her seat back as she did so. "It gets easier to accept the more you see it and are around it," the cheerful redhead said lightly as she took a few steps away from the table and those seated around it. She held out her left hand, palm open and upturned.

With a quiet, slow scrape from the peg on the wall where her swordbelt was hanging, the glittering white blade slid itself free of its scabbard and floated toward Anna, finally stopping as her fingers curled around its handle. The temperature in the room dropped immediately, but not dangerously so; still, it was clearly enough for everyone to feel the restrained bite of the cold emanating from the exposed blade, softly glowing a blue-white that was visible even in the well-lit room.

There was an uneasy murmuring that sussurated through the large room, as all eyes were focused on the glowing sword and the woman holding it.

"Maybe superconducting magnets?" said one of the Council members, who had been from the new-destroyed Mecha station, trying to think of a scientific explanation for the weapon's behavior.

"Is anything metal being pulled toward her?" Clarke countered calmly. Considering the chairs and table itself were metal, along with items worn or carried by most of those in the room, the point was well-noted.

In reply, Anna smiled and released her grip on the sword, which held its position hovering over the table, although its glow dimmed considerably once it was no longer in contact with its master. She confidently folded her arms across her chest as the sword continued to float silently before her.

Elsa stood, easing her chair back slightly. She saw Anna glance in her direction, wordlessly offering to take Elsa's hand to reduce the strain of using her powers; Elsa gave her a subtle glance politely declining the offer, not wanting to reveal any more than necessary about her powers. She lifted her arms before her as frost and light sparkled around her hands and forearms.

A swirling ribbon of snow and ice streamed forth, flowing like a river around the room, weaving its way around all those present. A curious few reached out and touched the shimmering moisture, some grinning and a few gasping at the cold sensation transmitted by the snow and frost when they touched the streams of magic. Elsa let the magic circulate around the room for several seconds before she directed it inward, coalescing at the center of the table and forming into a small replica of their Ice Palace on the North Mountain back in Arendelle.

"Magic is real," Elsa said, feeling cool dots of icy sweat form on her forehead and upper back from the exertion of creating and channeling magic for a prolonged period of time in this magic-poor world. "And Nia not only has powers of her own now, but she also has the assistance of a dark sorcerer from our world, a necromancer who has shown not only the ability and willingness to kill brutally and indiscriminately, but the ability to conduct ritual workings of magic capable of conjuring fell beasts the size of dragons and tearing a gate between worlds."

"However," Anna said, raising a hand as a gesture of conversation; the sword floating before her bobbed briefly before it realized she wasn't addressing it. "We're pretty sure his magic is weakened here, like Elsa's is. He returned to our world to carry out his big rituals."

"He sacrificed hundreds of innocent Arendellans," Elsa added, "to power his dark works. Men, women, girls, boys. He brutally and slowly killed them all, one at a time, bloody sacrifices to enhance his power."

"Dear God," a soft voice whispered from somewhere, barely audible in the large room.

"Elsa and I will deal with him," Anna said firmly. "We're the only ones here experienced with magic, both using it and fighting it." Whomever he is, she thought to herself. In fact, we're not entirely sure it IS a man, just the size and stride of those footprints suggesting it was. Well, at least his—or her—magic should give him or her away once the fighting starts.

Left unsaid was anything about the wicked tome the sorcerer carried. Anna and Elsa had already discussed that, and they had decided to not mention anything about it until the strategy planning that would be carried out once all of Lexa's generals were together. There was nothing positive that would come of mentioning the existence of a dark artifact which could grant power at the cost of one's soul to a room full of people fighting for their lives. Only those who stood a legitimate chance of encountering the Vile Codex needed to know of its danger or its power.

"Can magic stop a rifle bullet?" asked Monty Green.

Clarke and Elsa looked at each other and shared a quick grin before Clarke turned to look at her friend. "It can," she replied to Monty. "We tested a few shots back in Arendelle. The bullet shattered the first and second targets Elsa made, but the next one she made strong enough to stop the bullet after just a few millimeters of penetration. And it didn't even scratch Anna's shield."

"That was a pistol, though," Monty replied. "Could be worth a shot."

"Please tell me you didn't mean to make that pun," Clarke said as more than a few people in the room snickered or groaned. Monty only grinned slyly. "We can't count on bullets affecting this sorcerer, but it's certainly worth considering putting a sniper on him or her once identified."

"David Miller and Harper are our best shots," said one of the guards, a woman in her thirties with dark brown hair that was beginning to streak with gray. She was from Power Station, Clarke thought, remembering the woman working on a few projects with her father before—

Well. Before.

"Monroe's a fine shot, too," David Miller added.

"I'm not going to speak for her," Harper said, her voice soft but distinct in the silence that fell after she began speaking. "But I'm betting she's staying out of the fighting. It'll be her decision, though. I'll discuss it with her tonight... on the way to Polis."

Harper hadn't said a word to anyone in Arkadia about the incident with the bear the night before. Shortly after Monroe showed the animal to Dido, the girl had left, promising to be back at sunrise. She kept her word, returning with a half-dozen Trikru and a horse-drawn wagon while the pink still shot through the gray morning sky.

Harper and Monroe had watched for a bit as the Trikru worked, swiftly field-dressing the massive creature, depositing its innards into a large ceramic pot, then loading it onto a wagon to be taken back to the nearby village to be skinned, butchered and harvested for bone, sinew and anything else that could be salvaged from its carcass. The Trikru had thanked Harper and Monroe repeatedly, showing even more awe toward the blonde than usual.

Harper wasn't sure why she hadn't said anything to anyone in Arkadia about it. She and Monroe hadn't exactly talked about keeping it a secret, and for all she knew Zoe was talking to Abby or Jackson all about their exciting night.

But it just felt like something that didn't belong to Arkadia.

Or maybe, Harper carefully considered, it wasn't exactly the event that felt like it didn't belong to Arkadia.

Maybe it was something entirely different that didn't feel like it belonged here anymore. Maybe it was two somethings.

—O—

It was an unusual procession that made for Polis, to say the least.

Leading the way was Clarke, on the sorrel horse she had ridden on her trip to Arkadia a few days earlier. Elsa and Anna kept pace with her, their glittering icy mounts sparkling in the sunlight. No less than a dozen Trikru accompanied them, along with twenty Arkadians armed with rifles and pistols, Harper and Monroe, who shared a horse with Monroe directing the chocolate brown mare and Harper happily keeping her arms around the redhead's waist and looking over her lover's shoulder, and Marcus Kane, who rode toward the back of the convoy with Indra. The taciturn woman had finally stopped pretending the Skaikru man didn't exist, and she even offered him a few terse comments and replies in his attempt to converse with her and learn more about the Trikru.

A half dozen Trikru scouts had ridden ahead, both to watch for trouble and to find a place to camp before nightfall. Among them were Octavia and Lincoln, both eager to explore once again now that they had been reunited.

In the middle of the convoy rode two wagons, each pulled by two horses. The first wagon, covered with a canvas stretched over a simple framework, contained Charles Pike himself, both his legs and his left arm tied to the boards of the wagon with carbon fiber cables. His withered right hand was bandaged and covered, as it was beginning to have pieces crack and slough off. Clarke knew it was quickly becoming gangrenous, and she wanted to make sure that he arrived at Polis alive and healthy enough to face the judgment he deserved. No less than three Trikru rode with Pike, along with two Arkadian guards with pistols, one of whom was Nathan Miller.

In the second wagon, this one larger and uncovered, were Hannah Green, Bellamy Blake and the other half-dozen Arkadians who participated in the murder of the Grounders who had been sent to protect Arkadia. Each of them was shackled and secured to a long beam that ran the length of the wagon's bed, allowing them some freedom of movement inside the wagon's bed but preventing them from escaping.

"So why does Monroe get to ride with her fuckbuddy while the rest of us are chained up like slaves?" asked one of the prisoners, a young man in his late twenties named Lucas. He had served with the guards on the Ark and then in Arkadia, but his position had been stripped as soon as Clarke Griffin had returned. He still bore significant resentment against Nathan Miller, as the younger man had been his partner in the guards until the revolt against Pike, when the guards who had been members of The 100 had turned on their friends and incapacitated them to protect Clarke.

The betrayal he felt in the form of the shockstick jammed into his side still burned as much today as it had the moment it happened.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked a dour voice.

Lucas turned his head to meet Bellamy Blake's dark eyes.

"She's friends with Clarke," Bellamy said. "That means special treatment."

"She also left the guards, switched from carrying a gun to working in Medical," added Kyla, a woman in her mid-thirties. From Farm Station just like Charles Pike, she lost her daughter in the crash landing on Earth and her husband to the initial Azgeda raid on the survivors. She had been one of the first to back Pike's distrust of all grounders, and she refused to apologize for her convictions, even now that doubts had firmly set in. People did what they did, and they lived—or died—with the consequences. It was a simple equation.

"That doesn't absolve her of the fact that she was with us," Hannah said quietly but angrily. "Her hands are just as bloody as ours. They better kill her with the rest of us."

"Clarke said that none of us are going to be killed unless we force them," Bellamy said, his voice low.

"And do you believe her?" asked Lucas, contempt quite audible in his words.

Bellamy met his angry stare. "I trust her word more than anyone else I've ever met," he said flatly.

Kyla considered Bellamy's hopeless devotion. He wanted to fuck Clarke Griffin badly, and he was never going to get the chance. He was just too starry-eyed to accept reality. She sighed. "I trusted Charles, too," she said. "Sometimes we pick the wrong sides." She shrugged.

It was what it was.

—O—

When the first messenger brought word to her, Lexa very nearly leapt out of her skin. It took a few moments for her whirling thoughts and bounding heart to calm to the point she could form logical thoughts once more, and then she was a storm of motion, grabbing her jacket, her red sash of rank and her swordbelt before running to the elevator.

Minutes later, Lexa was on her favorite horse, leading a dozen warriors on a gallop through the streets toward the main gates of Polis.

Crowds were already gathered along the sides of the main road, eagerly shouting and swirling as the news of Wanheda's return sped through the city. Thankfully, that eagerness was checked by restraint and the advance rider, calling for Polis's citizens to move to the side to safely allow their Heda to pass unhindered.

Lexa reached the edge of the city in time to see the massive counterweights attached to the main doors begin to stir. A sliver of light became visible between the massive steel plates, once part of some massive structure whose name was lost to time and nuclear fire, as they crept apart slowly.

Now the crowd began to chant eagerly, as they had done when Lexa had returned from the secret raid on Coldspire. This time, however, it was Wanheda's name on the lips of the people of Polis, instead of Heda's, and the difference made Lexa both smile with pride and shiver with anticipation.

Her houmon was home.

—O—

"Oh my God," Harper said softly as she took in the sight of the massive wall, the huge gray doors, the palisade of guards lining the wall towering over them.

"You can say that again," Monroe whispered in Harper's ear, her body now pressed up behind Harper's atop their horse, as they had switched positions after the last rest stop an hour ago. "Pike was a fucking idiot for thinking we could take them in a drawn-out war."

Harper marveled as the metal groaned slightly from the motion of the doors grating open. They were about midway back in the convoy, a few positions behind the wagons ferrying the prisoners, but suddenly Harper wished she was even further back, to delay whatever reception they were going to receive as long as possible.

—O—

It had taken a bit of polite arguing, but Clarke was the first one to enter the city of Polis, followed by Elsa and Anna, each astride a shimmering white steed.

"Your people looked to you to deal with this situation with this Pike person," Elsa had calmly stated. "As such, you alone should be the one to accept their accolades for successfully doing so."

Anna had offered a more wryful rejoinder.

"Suck it up. You're a queen now, pretty much, and you'd better get used to this sort of thing." Her blue-green eyes had sparkled playfully before she added, "Your people want to see you, Clarke. They look up to you. They're proud of you. When you succeed, all of your people succeed, and it's important to give them that moment, whether you really want it or not."

So Clarke led the procession into Polis.

The crowds erupted in cheers as soon as they saw the blonde braids of the lead rider, astride her sorrel horse.

"WAN-HED-A! WAN-HED-A!" echoed along the city walls, repeated energetically as Clarke guided her mount ahead at a slow pace. Following her were six Trikru guards, then the wagon holding Charles Pike, its cover removed right before they entered the city. There were many angry glares directed briefly at him, seated and chained to the wagon, but no one dared shout or threaten him. The time for his punishment would come soon enough, and the residents of Polis still possessed enough patience to wait for justice to be carried out formally. And slowly.

Clarke looked around the crowds, unsure of whether or not to wave as she made her way through the thronged crowds. But then she caught sight of the small unit of mounted warriors standing ahead of them, watching and waiting as Clarke led the restrained victory march. And square in the middle of those mounted was a very familiar head of long, dark hair, her elegant face bereft of any face paint or decoration, so eager had been her haste to meet the returning party.

It took all of Clarke's self-control to not send her horse running forward, but she didn't want to possibly embarrass Lexa. Or herself. So she steeled herself to maintain the same slow, steady pace forward until, long minutes later, she finally drew near to her wife.

Clarke turned and looked behind her, motioning for the procession to keep moving forward as she slowly guided her horse toward Lexa's position at the side of the main street. Pike and the other prisoners would be held in the main tower until it was time for formal judgment on him, likely later that day. She and Lexa would have to decide what to do with Harper, but Clarke doubted the blonde was going to leave Monroe. At least they could let the two of them have a cell of their own, hopefully, until they could decide what was going to be done with the others.

The Skaikru prisoners had more value alive than dead. Lexa knew that. Well, except for Pike. That fucker was going to suffer, especially after Clarke found out he had been planning on executing all the Trikru prisoners Arkadia had been holding, including Lincoln. She and Elsa had arrived the day before he had planned on carrying out that course of action, which had made Clarke sick at her stomach when she considered how close she had come to letting Pike kill innocents again.

Clarke smiled widely and dismissed those morbid thoughts as she stopped her horse beside Lexa's, her mount pointing in the opposite direction as her wife's as they hovered next to each other. "Hey," she said simply, a helpless grin on her face, feeling like she was going on her first date all over again.

"Welcome home, ai hodnes," Lexa said, her voice thick with emotion.

Clarke's heart pounded. Her love, she had called her. The blonde blinked away tears that felt very un-Wanheda-like as she reached out and took Lexa's hand. "It's good to be home, ai houmon," she said softly. "I missed you."

Lexa smiled and leaned toward Clarke, reaching up and sliding her fingers through Clarke's blond braids behind her head. "And I missed you," she said before kissing Clarke on the lips.

"Awww," Anna said softly to Elsa. She and Elsa had stopped their horses next to their two friends, likewise moving to the side of the main road to allow the rest of the arrivals to pass by them. "I bet that's how we looked a few nights ago, wasn't it?"

Elsa smiled as she watched their friends stare longingly into each other's eyes. "Well, minus my broken bone and the burns you had suffered, at least," she replied.

"Both of which seem to be healed now," Anna added.

"Yes, no more chapped skin for you," Elsa said with an adoring smile. "I noticed."

"And you seem to be moving your arm without any problems."

"A little sore first thing this morning, but much improved," Elsa agreed. A drop in the noise level of the crowd drew her attention, and she looked behind Anna to see a peculiar sight.

"Clarke..." Elsa asked, raising her voice to be better heard by her friend. She kept her eyes focused on the back half of the convoy, which was now inside the city walls and drawing a surprising amount of attention.

"Yeah, Elsa?" replied Clarke, guiding her horse into a slow turn so that she could better look at the blonde queen.

"You might want to come look at this."

—O—

No sooner was their horse inside the walls of Polis than Harper detected the shift in the mood of the crowd. It was subtle at first, with a few bystanders subtly pointing or gesturing in her direction, followed by other leaning close to others and whispering. The cheers of the crowd began to ebb in her immediate area, until it was only the crowds ahead of them that continued to cheer and shout. All those nearby were silently staring at Harper and Monroe as they sat together on the horse they shared.

"This isn't the least bit creepy, is it?" Monroe finally said, looking from one side to the other, seeing scores of grounders now openly watching them, their faces ranging from shock to devotion to beatific joy before bowing their heads and standing quietly while Harper and Monroe passed in front of them.

"I thought it was creepy with the pilgrims," Harper whispered over her shoulder to her girlfriend. "I was definitely wrong."

"Hey, at least they love you," Monroe replied, just as quietly. "They could hate you." Like they do me.

Harper felt her girlfriend's arms tighten just slightly around her torso. "Clarke's promised me you're going to be okay," Harper said quietly. "And anyway, anything they try to do to you, they're going to have to do to me too."

"No, Harp," Monroe hissed at just above a whisper.

"Yes, Zoe," Harper replied back, just as quiet and stern. "You're my partner, and that means we take whatever life throws at us together, the good and the bad. And if I can use this... this thing they've created for me to help spare you any suffering, then I'm sure as fuck doing it."

—O—

Elsa and Anna watched the crowds go quiet as Harper and Monroe passed by, lowering their heads in respect until the horse carrying the two young women had passed.

"One day," Anna began quietly, "the two of you are going to have to tell us what that's about." She turned to look at Clarke and Lexa, leaving no doubt to whom she was addressing.

"Tonight would be a good time to do so," Lexa said, turning to look at the redhead and platinum blonde. "Clarke and I need to discuss the matter of punishment for those who were Charles Pike's accomplices before his punishment tonight."

"How are the war preparations proceeding?" asked Elsa.

Lexa turned to meet the blonde queen's blue eyes. "Reasonably well," she said calmly. "We can discuss those matters in detail this evening, after the prisoners have been secured."

"Harper is going to demand to stay with Monroe," Clarke said.

Lexa's expression turned the slightest bit remorseful as she met her houmon's eyes. "I will make sure they are allowed to stay together," Lexa said. "And kept apart from the others."

"Thank you," Clarke said tenderly. "Really. Thank you."

There was a pause for a few seconds before Lexa spoke again, this time her voice notably quieter. "I have considered what you asked, before you left to retrieve Charles Pike."

Clarke looked back up, toward Lexa, but her wife's gaze remained focused on Harper and Monroe as they slowed rode by.

"I have a possible outcome for Pike's followers that does not require their death," Lexa continued. She turned to meet Clarke's rapt gaze. "But I would like to go over it carefully with you first, before officially proclaiming it."

Clarke nodded quickly. "O-Of course," she said, throat thick with emotion. Once again, Lexa had chosen mercy over revenge simply because Clarke had asked. She blinked a few times before easing her horse closer, nearly bumping the side of Lexa's horse, so she could give Lexa a quick but heartfelt one-armed hug. "Thank you, ai houmon," Clarke whispered. "I love you."

Lexa smiled back softly, then returned her attention to the procession, once again carefully concealing her emotions behind her emotionless Commander's mask while the dutiful Wanheda took her rightful position at the Commander's side. The crimson sash over Lexa's left shoulder and the dark blue one hanging off Clarke's right both swayed and blew in the breeze, their movements paralleling each other with a simple ease that contradicted the formality of their bearers' posture and neutral expressions.

Although maybe the slightest hint of a smile could be seen at the corner of the Commander's mouth, were one to look closely enough.

—O—

Harper watched as the Skaikru who had participated in Pike's attack on the Trikru were led into small, spartan windowless rooms on the first floor of the massive tower. They were divided into pairs, with each room possessing a flat bed, a simple toilet and a small sink. The guards standing outside each door made it quite clear that each room was a prison cell, though, removing any doubts or euphemisms about the status of the prisoners.

Pike, however, was led deeper into the windowless hallway, and Monroe and Harper followed the contingent of Trikru leading them. Here Pike was placed into a cell by himself, the chains at his feet fastened to a ring on the floor. His withered right hand and forearm had started to develop a sickly greenish sheen to the blackened texture of its skin, and despite basic attempts to keep it clean, it was clear that the limb was rotting.

It was only after Pike was secured in his cell and the barred door closed with the ominous snapping of a bulky latch that the attitude of the Trikru escorts changed.

There were still no words spoken, but the very mood of the men and women escorting Harper and Monroe seemed to lift as they opened another door to reveal simple concrete steps leading up. After climbing to the next floor, they led the two young women down a nicer hallway, with simple paint on the walls and light streaming in through open windows rather than from lanterns and candles.

"Here is your room," said the short, squat man who had led them and the other prisoners through the building. He stepped aside to reveal a significantly larger room, with a twin bed, a small chair, a desk and a window that had already been opened to allow a small breeze to ruffle the thin drapes and swirl about the room. A small door led to an adjoining water closet with a toilet, sink and shower.

"Why do we get special treatment?" Monroe finally asked.

Harper noted the furtive glances in her own direction before anyone replied to her girlfriend's question.

The stocky man looked intently into Monroe's eyes; even being as short as he was, he remained several inches taller than her, and he was at least twice as wide as the petite redhead. "There is only one reason that matters," he finally said, his voice raspy. "Heda has commanded it."

The three Trikru warriors in the small room with them bowed their heads slightly, then they turned and quickly walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. The click of a lock turning was audible, followed by silence.

Monroe looked at the locked door for several seconds. Then she turned into Harper's embrace, wrapping her arms around the blonde she loved and holding tightly to her as the tears began.

—O—

The small war council that had been convened in the planning room that was part of Lexa's and Clarke's chambers had been going for nearly two hours, but spirits were surprisingly upbeat.

Monty and Raven had set up a satellite uplink antenna on the edge of Lexa's balcony, using it to connect to real-time satellite imaging displayed via a portable monitor and computer they had brought with them. This allowed them to see exactly how far Nia's forces had been able to advance into Coalition territory, as well as make another notable observation.

"So she's using her powers to create winter storms before and during battles," Clarke said after the third set of images that were whited out with clouds and frozen precipitation immediately before Nia's army clashed with a defending force, the most recent images collected just that morning. She remained well north of Polis, but her forces were moving south more quickly than Clarke had expected.

"Something is definitely making a blizzard appear out of nowhere," Monty replied, gesturing to the dense white cloud cover taking up most of the screen on the current image.

"And that fits with the stories we have heard from survivors of the initial skirmishes with the Azgeda," Lexa added. "They have all said that the Azgeda Queen can bend the snow and ice to her will, and that she uses it to savage those who try to stand against her."

Lexa turned to look at Elsa, who appeared to be understandably offended at Nia presuming to command the cold. "Do you think you can challenge her power, with your magic weaker in this world?" the brunette asked her friend, not entirely eager to hear the answer. "She certainly shows no sign of strain when using her powers, according to our spies."

Elsa considered the question for several ponderous seconds, her attention fixed on the incredibly detailed picture that remained on the strange "display" screen. She finally looked up, meeting Lexa's curious green eyes. "My powers are definitely weakened here, yes," Elsa said, "but while Nia appears to have more raw strength in this world, she's much less experienced than I am with controlling the cold. I think I have a few tricks up my sleeve that she won't be prepared for."

Lexa's face remained neutral. "Are you confident enough that it is worth risking our forces to meet her head-on in battle?" she asked bluntly.

Elsa nodded. "Anna and I will be there with you," she replied, a hint of annoyance detectable in her tone at Lexa's doubt in her abilities. "If I'm willing to risk not only my own life but the lives of my wife and unborn child, that should tell you how confident I am in my ability to deal with Nia's magic."

The two continued to stare at each other for a few more seconds before a single fat snowflake fell slowly between them, lazily tumbling its way downward through the air. Lexa finally nodded once. "I meant no disrespect to you, Elsa," the brunette said calmly. "My apologies if it came across that way."

A smile graced Elsa's pink lips. "You're concerned about the safety of your people, as a good leader should be," the blonde replied. "No need to apologize for that."

"And I'm trying to determine the exact state of all our military resources for this battle," Lexa added. "Which is vital enough that I cannot allow friendship and courtesy to impede my thought process."

Elsa nodded slightly. "We understand," she said. "I'll try to keep my emotions under better control."

She smiled as she felt Anna's arms encircle her; Elsa closed her eyes and leaned backwards into her wife's embrace as she tried to will away the constant fatigue and growing strain this world continued to exert upon her. The gnawing fatigue in her body and dull ache in her head began to ease as their magic flowed and cycled between the two of them, giving Elsa a surge of energy that was sorely needed after hours of planning and debate.

"Maintaining firm lines of fire for the gunners will have to be a high priority for all our forces," Lexa said, gesturing to the points she had marked on the large topographical map unrolled on the large table between them. "While the guns will be of enormous benefit to our side, the bullets they shoot will kill our warriors as easily as the Azgeda and their allies."

"I'm still worried about telling the two forces apart," said Marcus Kane. "Especially at a distance."

"Nia will have her forces clearly marked with her symbol or banner," Lexa said confidently. "Her ego would allow no less."

"Possibly so, but in the chaos of battle, it could be very hard to spot something fairly small like a symbol or ribbon," Kane argued. "Especially at a distance, since you want to keep most of the gunners out of the front lines."

"Raven and Wick helped us with that," Clarke said, reaching into a bag placed beside the table. She retrieved a small bucket, sealed with a metal lid, which she placed on one corner of the map.

Seeing looks of confusion upon everyone's faces, she gestured to the metal container. "It's a spray-on pigment they made. Invisible to the unaided eye, but with polarized filters in place, it glows a bright orange. We'll mark everyone's chest and back with it before the battle, and we'll give the gunners filters to place in their sights so they can see the pigment. That should help prevent any accidental shootings."

Lexa nodded. "A clever idea. As with everything else we have discussed, we must keep this secret between those in this room."

The small crowd gathered around the table silently considered the plan of battle.

"Do you really think twenty gunners will make that big a difference against an entire army?" asked Kane.

Lexa met him with a stern glare, but before she could speak, a sharp bark drew everyone's attention to Indra.

"Three hundred dead Trikru can testify to their effectiveness," spat the dusky woman, eyes shining bright with fury.

Lexa took a deep breath before she spoke again, breaking the sudden tension in the room. "I will speak with you and Nathan Miller later, Markus Kane, about how I would like to deploy your Skaikru and their weapons."

Kane nodded, looking over at Nathan, who returned a simple nod. He turned back to Lexa. "Of course, Commander. If you'd like, I can pull up some reading on warfare using firearms for you to review, dating back to—"

He stopped abruptly as he caught the look of amusement on the young brunette's face. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked. "If so, I—"

"It is fine, Markus Kane kom Skaikru," Lexa said, and to the astonishment of many of those in the planning room, the normally grim-visaged Heda actually... smiled.

"I appreciate your offer, Markus Kane," Lexa said, keeping the soft smile to a polite level. "But I am already familiar with the works of Clausewitz, whose writings are likely the ones to which you're referring. I have read and reread On War many times, along with the writings of Sun Tzu and Musashi, Rommel and Patton, the campaigns of Caesar and the battles of Khalid ibn al-Walid."

"Lexa has a pretty good library," Clarke said, proudly patting her wife on the shoulder.

"I prefer to save knowledge, not destroy it," Lexa said agreeably. She looked back to Kane and said, her green eyes nearly glowing with fierceness, "I have fought in hundreds of battle, Markus Kane, over a hundred years."

"That's—"

"AND I possess the memories of all those Hedas who served before me," Lexa continued, ignoring his soft protest. "Such is the power of the Commander's Flame, of the Commander's Spirit."

At hearing those words, Clarke's eyes briefly flicked toward Lexa's long brown hair, cascading down her back and concealing the rapidly fading incision on the back of her neck, just as Clarke's blonde hair, now hanging loose and out of braids, did to conceal her own matching incision.

The first act the two of them had carried out after Wanheda's triumphant return had been to escape into the sacred chamber at the base of Polis's tower, where Cicero had removed the Flame from Clarke's neck and returned it to Lexa. This process went much smoother than the first time he had performed the procedures, taking less than an hour. Those who had noticed the disappearance of their Heda and Wanheda had knowingly (and quietly) speculated that the two houmons were performing more amorous activities, and Clarke and Lexa had done nothing to dispel those rumors after they had rejoined everyone else.

Those amorous activities, unfortunately, had to wait at least a few hours longer.

The harsh crash of a gong outside and far below the planning room seized everyone's attention.

Clarke looked back to Lexa.

"It's time," spoke the brunette, all traces of her smile now erased.

Without another word, Lexa turned and strode toward the doors leading to the hallway, with Clarke behind her. Anna and Elsa smoothly fell into step behind them, followed by Indra, then Marcus Kane after a brief pause, and then everyone else.

—O—

As the small party of leaders emerged from the tall structure that formed the heart of Polis, torches were already lit and flickering around the city's main square. The gloaming was just beginning, but already shadows were growing long and ominous throughout the city.

A massive crowd had gathered for the ceremony, soft murmuring quickly growing silent as Lexa and Clarke led the others in front of the crowd. A silent motion from Lexa toward her friends indicated for Elsa and Anna to stop at the edge of the crowd, with Kane and Nathan Miller following suit. Indra continued to follow her Heda and Wanheda, but back at a respectful distance now.

Tied to the large post erected on the modest stage in the center of the commons area was Charles Pike, occasionally tugging against the many bindings holding him tightly against the large piece of wood. His left forearm was nearly the color of charcoal as the skin inexorably tightened over the decomposed tissue beneath it.

As they watched, six warriors brought forth the small group of Pike's supporters who had carried out the slaughter. Quiet rumblings began to pass through the watching crowd, growing louder as the guards led the small band of Skaikru onto the stage. The whispering swelled into open voices and a few gasps and audible cries of surprise as Harper and Monroe mounted the stairs and stepped onto the platform.

Lexa stopped the procession with an upraised hand; instantly the guards and the prisoners alike stopped at once, with even the anxious murmuring of the crowd quieting at the gesture.

"Mon-Roe kom Skaikru," Lexa spoke clearly, a patient look on her face. "You and Jusdonosir are not being judged today."

Monroe's mouth opened, but only a soft noise came forth at first. She took a breath, then said, "As... as much as I wish I had never taken part in that attack, I-I did," finishing as her voice cracked at the end.

Harper squeezed her girlfriend's hand. "I stand with... with the woman I love," she said, sounding much confident than she felt internally.

Lexa slowly walked forward, trying to not intimidate the two brave young women who faced her, but judging by the way both of them trembled at her approach, her efforts were unsuccessful.

"Mon-Roe kom Skaikru," Lexa said carefully, trying to keep her voice from sounding threatening but still trying to be clear enough for the crowd to hear. "You have already paid your debt for your crimes. You paid with your life, when you died weeks ago from inhaling the blistersap gas. A terrible death, as we are all aware."

Monroe blinked, seemingly oblivious of the twin tears that slipped from her ruddy eyelashes and trickled down her cheeks. "But... But th-they brought me back..." she mumbled.

Lexa smiled. "We are well aware of the miracles that Wanheda and her mother, fisa Abby kom Skaikru, can perform. It was them, after all, who saved many of the Reapers." Lexa gestured back toward Clarke.

Hoping that she wasn't overstepping her boundaries, Clarke spoke up. "You died, Monroe," she said, taking a first hesitant step forward that turned into a more confident second and then third step as she began to slowly ascend the platform. "Several times, actually. Nathan Miller, who is here today, witnessed several of them, as did my mom and Jackson, our other doctor. He's also here and can testify to your death."

Lexa stepped forward, closing the rest of the distance between her and Monroe and Harper. She slowly reached up and placed her hands on each of Monroe's shoulders. "Your crimes were terrible, Mon-Roe, but you have paid for them."

"I'm still paying for them," Monroe said, so softly that only Harper and Lexa could hear it as the redhead bowed her head and clenched her eyes tightly shut, dislodging a handful of tears that had gathered.

"Yes, you are," Lexa said, in a voice much softer. "And that will be your burden to bear. But you have one who has chosen to bear it with you, and that is a blessing beyond price."

Lexa looked over at Harper, seeing emotions at war with each other in the blonde's stormy brown eyes as she glared back at the taller woman. "Jusdonosir," Lexa said carefully. "Your courage and devotion to your houmon is admirable. You were willing to face death with her."

"I already do, every day," Harper replied, trying with only partial success to keep her frustration and irritation out of her voice. "That's what life's all about. Isn't it?"

Lexa's expression was carefully neutral as she scrutinized the blonde's expression, defiant and stubborn even in such a precarious situation. "It is," she finally said, keeping her voice cool. "You saved many lives, Jusdonosir, across all the clans. The Coalition of Clans will never forget your suffering and the lives you saved with your blood and your pain." Lexa smiled. "You and your houmon Mon-Roe are both free to go. We have a special place prepared for you during your stay in Polis."

"Um, thanks," Harper said, her words suddenly seeming to become tangled between her throat and her tongue.

"C'mon," Clarke said, stepping forward and extending an open hand toward Harper and Monroe. "I'll show you around in just a bit."

Clarke led the two still-slightly apprehensive young women off the platform and over to where Anna and Elsa stood. The two Arendellans gave friendly smiles to their younger friends, then they returned their attention back to the platform as Lexa began to speak once more. But as Clarke turned to retake her place, Harper reached and tugged on the sleeve of Clarke's dark red jacket.

Clarke glanced down to see what had snagged her, then she looked at Harper's face, laced with confusion.

"We're not actually married," Harper whispered to the other blonde. "I thought you knew that."

Clarke's eyes softened as her face relaxed; she tried to tune out Lexa's speech behind her with a modicum of success; she already knew what her wife was going to say, anyway. "The Trikru don't make it as complicated as we do, with relationships," she explained softly. "You and Monroe have sex, you made a home together, you live together, you consider yourselves partners. You've dedicated yourselves to each other, right? By actions if not in words?"

Harper stared at Clarke for a bare second before nodding several times. "Yeah," she breathed out.

Now Clarke smiled. "That's good enough for the Trikru."

Harper smiled back weakly, then her eyes widened as she made a mental connection. "Like... you and Lexa?" she guessed.

The smile on Clarke's face widened. "Yeah," she replied simply. "I, uh have to get back up there. For this thing to get started."

"Oh yeah, okay," Harper said, but before Clarke could pull away, a second tug, this one on the hem of her jacket, held her in place.

"Thank you, Clarke," said Zoe Monroe, her face stark in its unguardedness. "And tell Lexa thank you, too."

"I will," Clarke said, clasping the petite redhead's right hand with her left. "And you're welcome."

—O—

As Clarke guided Harper and Monroe off the platform, Lexa turned her entire body toward the thousands assembled; with just that motion and the widening of her eyes, everyone fell silent once more.

For several interminable seconds, the Commander's intense eyes swept over the crowd, once, twice, slowly. Finally, when it seemed as if the moment would never end, Lexa spoke.

"The crimes that were committed against our people were brutal and unwarranted. They were acts of desperation by an unhinged man, driven to madness by the death of his houmon and child at the hands of the cursed Azgeda."

A few quiet whispers could faintly be heard through the crowd during the brief pause.

"JUS DREIN JUS DAUN!" Lexa shouted, and in less than a second, the massive crowd echoed her words, roared them back at the fierce brunette in reply.

"Blood must have blood!" Lexa spoke, less forcefully than before but still with emphasis. "And so it shall," she finished as she turned to Charles Pike, who had stopped struggling several minutes ago.

"Charles Pike kom Skaikru," Lexa said as she slowly walked toward the man who glared at her with hatred in his eyes. "You have planned and led an attack upon three hundred Trikru who had been sent to protect your people. Your hatred toward all the Clans nearly sundered our alliance with your people, and today you pay for your crimes with your life.

"Those who lost loved ones to your murderous attack will be the first to cut into your flesh, each bloody line a reminder of what you coldly, cruelly took from them. You claim we are untrustworthy because the Azgeda attacked your people and killed your family, yet you committed the same crimes against us, a different clan who exacted no harm upon you or your people." She glared at him, smiling coldly when his eyes briefly flicked away from her stare.

"I will NOT apologize!" Pike said hotly, a fleck of spittle flying from his mouth as he looked at the crowds gathered before and below him. "What I did, I did to protect my people!"

Lexa looked at him calmly. "No, your actions only put 'your people' in even more danger, and your inability to see that is part of what makes you so dangerous." She turned around, fully confident in him being restrained but maybe, slightly hoping for him to somehow escape his bindings and attack her, so she could personally hurt him further.

Lexa looked over the crowd gathered before her, made up mostly of Trikru but consisting of ambassadors of all the clans save for the Azgeda and those they had forced into allying with them. She looked over at Marcus Kane, at Nathan Miller, at the healer Jackson and the other Skaikru who had journeyed to Polis with Clarke. Then she met the eyes of her houmon, who smiled proudly at Lexa.

"Where you have failed the most profoundly, Charles Pike, is that there is no 'your people' and 'my people' anymore. There is only our people, and your crimes against those three hundred warriors was a crime against your allies."

"I refuse to accept that!" Pike shouted.

Lexa patiently turned around, and the slow smile that stretched across her face as she regarded the man sent chills up his spine. "And that is another reason why you must die, Charles Pike," she said in the same patient tone of voice she would have used to address a small child. "Your inability to recognize or accept that you... were... wrong." She paused for a few seconds, matching his glare with equal intensity. "For you, there shall be no mercy, as you deserve none."

She turned again, taking a handful of steps toward the small contingent of Skaikru prisoners nearby, awaiting their own judgment. She stopped roughly ten meters away from them, looking at each face one at a time, receiving looks that ranged from angry and challenging to quiet and accepting to proud and defiant.

"With the coming of Wanheda," Lexa spoke patiently, "came the birth of a new belief, standing alongside jus drein jus daun, equal but opposing. Jus drein NO jus daun!" She allowed a few moments of rapt silence before continuing. "With Wanheda's power over death came a wisdom that taught us that sometimes, life is the better choice over death. And so it shall be with these followers of Charles Pike, those who followed the orders of their leader in the false belief that what they were doing was right. For them, their punishment shall not be death but rather life, so that they might learn from their great mistake and make amends to those whom they have harmed by their actions."

Lexa kept her face stern as she continued, "For each Trikru slain on that bloody day as well as for the sole survivor, each of you shall live as a Trikru for a week. You will eat with us. You will work with us. You will train with us. You will bleed with us."

At the first hint of whispers among the crowd, Lexa's left arm shot out to the side; instantly the crowd behind her grew quiet, bringing a grim smile to Lexa's lips.

This was not Arendelle, where debate was tolerated.

This was the Ground.

"Three hundred weeks," Lexa said, slowly and solemnly, keeping her eyes on the Skaikru assembled before her, her gaze sliding from face to face. "That will be the debt repaid for the lives lost at your hands. Instead of taking life, you will help nurture it. Instead of fighting over land, we will work together. We will share our knowledge, as we will share our lands... and our lives."

She looked over the prisoners. "This is my decision, as Heda of the Coalition of Clans. Each of you begins your new life today." She paused, meeting each set of eyes in turn: defiant... angry... resigned... sorrowful... and, rarely, relieved. "You have Wanheda and her wisdom to thank for this new chance at life," Lexa added. "We will teach you, but it is up to you to truly learn."

Lexa turned to Indra. "Have them taken to the tower," the brunette told her general. "Have them fed, give them rooms and let them rest. Wanheda and I will meet with them later to decide where each of them will be placed to begin penance."

"Sha, Heda," Indra said firmly. She motioned for the group of Skaikru prisoners to come to her, keeping her expression neutral even when her eyes briefly met those of Bellamy Blake.

—O—

Once his accomplices had been removed from the stage, it was time for Charles Pike to die.

As Lexa had promised, those Trikru who had lost loved ones in the massacre were allowed to make the first cuts, and they proved to be patient and creative with claiming their bloody vengeance. Less than twenty minutes into the execution, Pike was grunting in pain, though he refused to plead or beg. Grievous harm had already been exacted upon him; blood streamed from his face, his arms and his legs, and he appeared to be losing consciousness from time to time.

While they declined to take part in the brutal ritual, Anna and Elsa remained present for the entire time it took Pike to die, just over two hours. Both of them maintained their composure throughout the ordeal, even long after their thoughts of righteous retribution had been overwhelmed by the condemned man's visible suffering.

Anna seemed to be tolerating Pike's suffering better than Elsa was. Which made sense, because if it had been Anna the man had shot, Elsa likely would have been up there carving off part of his face with a dagger of razor-sharp ice. But Anna seemed to understand that Elsa needed her wife with her during the gory spectacle, and no matter how Elsa's emotions and stomach seemed to twist and squirm inside her, Anna was right there, holding her tightly and placing soft kisses on the blonde's head every so often.

For the first time since they had arrived on this strange, violent world, Elsa was glad at how much weaker her magic was here, for otherwise the entire city would have likely been buried in snow and ice by now. Whether it was the pregnancy, the near-fatal injury several days ago, the ongoing separation from their children and their home or the sight of the man being slowly executed in front of her, Elsa was a mess internally. But through it all she maintained her careful facade of composure; there would be enough time to fall apart in the safety of Anna's strong arms in their chambers later that night.

Charles Pike finally drew his last breath after dark had fully settled over Polis. Torches had been lit to maintain visibility of his suffering once the light had nearly ebbed. Much of the crowd had melted away by that point, along with nearly all of the Arkadians. Only Marcus Kane remained of that contingent to witness Pike's body stiffen awkwardly, spasming twice before his limbs slowly, agonizingly relaxed to the point of going limp.

Lexa looked over to Octavia, giving the dark-haired girl a slow nod.

Octavia politely nodded in response before ascending the steps quickly and silently. She drew the dagger at her right side as she stalked quickly toward Pike's body, now slumped forward and suspended by the ropes binding him to the pole behind him. With a swift thrust, she buried her knife's blade in the left side of his throat, cutting forward as she withdrew her blade and crossed in front of him, repeating the stabbing on the other side of his throat to ensure he was truly dead.

She stood and stared at the dead man for a long second, considering how near it had been to it being Pike standing over the dead body of Lincoln. Without another word, she wiped both sides of her knife's blade on Pike's dark shirt, then returned the weapon to its sheath.

"So ends Charles Pike," Clarke said softly, taking a step forward. "He was an asshole in life and only slightly less of one in death."

—O—

"What the fuck are we going to do, Harp?" Monroe asked as they stood in the middle of the large room they had been given, high in the tower that rose defiantly over Polis.

"What do you mean?" asked Harper, her mouth currently buried in her girlfriend's strawberry hair as thoughts of actually marrying Monroe in a traditional Ark ceremony stubbornly (and happily) danced through her mind.

Monroe pulled back slightly to look into Harper's brown eyes. "I mean, we're in this city, surrounded by more people than the Ark ever held at any one time. And some of them want to kill me, but even more of them want to worship you."

"We do what we always do," Harper said, smiling even though there was a sadness in her expressive eyes that tugged at Monroe's heart. "We survive. We live. And we do it together."

Harper hugged Monroe tightly, placing a soft kiss on the side of her smaller girlfriend's head. "We look out for each other, we take care of each other, we fuck as much as we can and we fight for our family. We fight for what we love."

Despite the surrealness of the situation, Monroe grinned against the soft skin of Harper's throat. "God, I love you, Harp," she said, her voice raw as she fought back tears.

The blonde sighed happily as she closed her eyes and allowed her worries and her fears to leave her for as long as she was in her lover's arms. "The feeling's mutual, babe," she said softly. "However long we have, five minutes or a hundred years, I love you with all I am."

—O—

Over a hundred miles away, Nia hungrily looked out over the destruction scattered before her. The howling wind and sleet and snow at her command had slain at least as many of the Coalition warriors as her Azgeda forces did, and she felt more than a bit giddy as she felt the angry storm yield to her command.

The approach of her wizard drew her attention from the dead bodies on the tundra ahead. "Were you able to obtain enough survivors to fuel your magic further?" asked Nia, a dark smile on her face.

Hans nodded. "More than enough, Your Majesty," he said politely, smiling his handsome smile. Or at least it would have been handsome had Nia not seen enough to doubt whether the man remained entirely human at this point.

At this proximity, Nia could feel the oily whispers from the book of darkness held in the satchel draped over the man's shoulder. It seemed like the insidious noises had become more prominent as her own magic had grown, and Nia often considered whether that was an accident or entirely due to some subtle plan, either of the wizard or of the dark book itself, which he had been careful to always keep on his person.

"What is your opinion on the traitor?" Nia finally said, after it became apparent Hans felt no pressing need to make conversation as they watched the Azgeda strip the dead of what items of value remained.

"I detect no particular deception from him," said Hans carefully as his vision and dark senses sought out John Murphy, who was helping loot the bodies of the Coalition loyalists who had fallen on the battlefield. "Of course, there's not much truth to be gained from him, either," he admitted. "From what I can discern through his feelings, he seems to be entirely concerned with looking out for himself, as he had told us when he arrived."

Nia smiled. "Aren't we all," she said smugly. "So not an assassin sent by Lexa to kill me or stir up a rebellion, then."

Hans's mouth formed a flat line as he considered his response. "It doesn't appear so," he finally said. "He has no loyalty to anyone save himself. That I am sure of."

"Again, as he admitted to Echo, when he first arrived here seeking protection," Nia said.

"I still recommend caution," Hans added. "It's possible this Heda might have more resources than we are aware of."

"She's a girl playing at a grown-up's game," Nia sniffed.

"A girl who has slain you once already, might I remind you," countered Hans easily. "You underestimate her at your peril. And I wouldn't be able to bring you back a second time."

"My army was twice the size of hers when we began our march," Nia said proudly. "And that was before she started throwing warriors away trying to slow my advance toward Polis."

Hans turned to look at Nia's sharply-lined face. "I have seen much more forbidding odds dealt a equally crushing defeat," he said calmly. "As your advisor, I implore you to put aside your arrogance and plan for the worst."

Nia turned to meet his eyes, green-blue but shot through with delicate threads of black if one were to look carefully enough. Her angry rejoinder stilled on her tongue as she considered the power the sinister man yet wielded. Trying to eliminate him without a clear idea of his sorcery and its limits would be foolish. "Coldspire is impregnable," she finally said. "And as long as I hold their families, the leaders of the clans we have assimilated will not risk the lives of those they love."

Hans sighed. "I would feel better if I had more reassurances than just your confidence."

"Then you'll be waiting until spring," Nia said with a wicked smile. "Coldspire is well-stocked by necessity, as it's unreachable for at least four months of the year. Those prisoners can't be freed until spring, which means our unwilling allies will remain loyal until then at the very least."

When the sorcerer refused to speak further, Nia waved her left hand dismissively. "Perhaps you should sacrifice some prisoners, before your pessimism sours our mood. We're less than two weeks from Polis, when the Coalition will fall, and we will bring a new era to the Twelve Clans!"

"That may be the case," Hans finally said. "But I still recommend you keep this John Murphy far away from you, or from me. I'm not willing to dismiss the possibility of him being sent here by your enemies, either as an assassin or as a spy."

"I already have others watching him," Nia replied confidently. "So far he has spoken to members of several different clans, trying to find one which will offer him protection once the war is over. None of the clans appreciate traitors."

"And has he had much luck?"

"The Blue Valley Clan has offered him sanctuary, in exchange for him sharing all the Skaikru knowledge he possesses."

A reddish eyebrow rose slightly. "And you're comfortable with that happening?" he asked. His patience was prodigious—the long-term view tended to come easily when one could extend one's lifespan with human sacrifice—but as reckless as Nia was becoming as a result of her new-found abilities, it didn't seem he would have to wait much longer before she brought about her own downfall without any assistance from him at all.

Nia smiled as she turned to look at him. "When this war is over, there won't be a Blue Valley Clan. Or a Glowing Forest Clan. Or a River Clan." She paused, then turned her attention back to the frozen bodies stretching out a half-mile before her.

"When this war is over, all will be Azgeda." And all will be mine, she proudly thought to herself.

—O—

Author's Afterword: Finally, we can get to the big battle, which starts next chapter!