Clarke was not sure what she was expecting Lexa and Costia's private suite to look like, but she didn't expect it to look like this. 'This' being normal, by every reasonable measure, perhaps even a tad understated. Oh, the quality was clear, both in the well-maintained artifacts of the Old World and the masterfully-created examples of craftsmanship from the New, but it wasn't ostentatious. Really, the majority of the decorations were things that spoke to the hurdles Lexa had overcome in order to become Heda in the first place, or at least that is how it seemed to her. It wasn't as if she knew the other girl particularly well, no matter how much she had heard about her since she had landed. And it wasn't as if their very brief, barely remembered introduction would have given her much of an impression.
Except the part where she found Lexa to be beautiful.
That part, she reflected to herself with a faint blush, was still very much true.
In fact, with injury, stress, blood loss, and exhaustion no longer clouding her mind, she could see just how beautiful Lexa truly was. Thin and petite, with long, rich brown hair that cascaded down to her shoulders in waves, and the subtle ripples of muscle covered by smooth, sun-kissed skin…oh yes, she was beautiful, and she licked lips that seemed suddenly to be all too dry.
Lexa's eyes (her sharp, deep, gemstone-green eyes) flickered down to follow the motion briefly before coming back up to her face, and for a moment Clarke would have sworn that there was an altogether warm light lingering in their depths. But whatever it was, if 'it' was anything at all, was gone a heartbeat later.
"Thank you all for joining me. Sit, please." She invited after a moment, gesturing to the mid-sized carved oaken table before her, and Clarke hesitated for a long moment before pulling one of the half-dozen chairs (the one at the foot, for the sake of giving her bad arm plenty of space) and sitting down with care. There was a sharp inhale from somewhere behind her, and she had just started to frown in confusion when Kostia and Ontari appeared from that direction to claim their own seats on either side of the table. Both seemed nervous or uncomfortable, she thought, though she couldn't imagine why. It wasn't like either one of them were trying to hide the fact that they were some sort of prophesized hero-queen who had fallen out of the sky not a week ago, right? "Klark, I'm glad you could accept mine and Kostia's invitation today, especially so freshly out of the infirmary. Do you remember anything from when you arrived?"
"I could hardly refuse such a generous invitation, especially when it came directly from the owner of this wonderful home, not to mention the shelter and care you provided to me despite my being a total stranger." Clarke responded smoothly, using every ounce of all the diplomatic training and experience she had received as a child of the Council and the advisor of the other Skybox teens, keeping her eyes on Lexa's own. An action that resulted in her entirely missing the surprised and then searching expression on Costia's face as the other girl looked at her, though she would have understood the reason for it if she had seen it. It wasn't how Clarke had spoken up until now, and as useful as the skill was now proving, she hated having it. Hated sounding like a Councillor. "And I'm afraid not. I remember meeting you down by the gate, but everything between then and when I woke up is really just a blur."
"I see. Well, I appreciate the compliment towards the palace, but I can hardly take credit. The staff maintains it, its construction predates the Praimfaya, and it was Aleksia Pramheda who repurposed and refurbished it to act as one of the central seats of the Coalition. I simply reside here." Lexa responded humbly, shaking her head, though there was a small (and, to Clarke's eyes, genuine) smile creasing her lips even as she demurred the compliments. "As for your care, I could hardly do anything else, even if you were so much a stranger as you say. When I consider the fact that you saved the life of a loyal member of the Coalition and dear friend to Kostia in Niylah, that you fought the Mountain Men at Kostia's side, and generously gave Niylah countless Old World relics with which to rebuild her fortune…well, how could I do less under such circumstances?"
Clarke rubbed the back of her neck, even as her cheeks heated in what she was sure was a rather vibrant blush despite the rather mild nature of Lexa's comments. Indeed, they couldn't even be considered outright compliments, simply observations of what it was that she had done. Still, the way in which they were said, and their source, was more than enough to call up the color.
"Well, she was very kind to me, and she helped Kostia pull my fat out of the fire once I was shot. Something that probably cost her everything she owned, thanks to the Maunon torching it all in revenge. I owed her." The Arker in disguise responded a bit shyly, her own attempt at demurring far less successful than Lexa's had been. Shaking her head, she gave changing the subject an effort, looking over at the somewhat-wide-eyed and silently watching Ontari. "And as long as I'm thanking people for things, thank you as well. If it wasn't for your help in the infirmary, things might have gone rather poorly. I…wasn't handling things well. I'm grateful, and I'm sorry you had to get involved."
"'tisn't something you need to thank me for, nor apologize." The Azgeda Chosen responded, shaking her head with a faint smile of her own, waving her hand in a brushing-away gesture. "I was just in the right place at the right time, and I don't think anyone that was there blames you. You were half-asleep, injured, in a place you weren't familiar with surrounded by strangers that were holding you down. Frankly, the fact that you only tried to get our hands off of you rather than attack us speaks to your restraint."
Clarke thought it was far more likely that it spoke to her panic and delirium, not to mention how quickly Ontari had snapped out of it, than any deliberate restraint on her part…but really, there wasn't anything to be gained from saying that, was there? Better to accept the compliment in the spirit that it was given in this instance, she supposed, and so she opted for silently dipping her head in gratitude instead.
"Let me echo Klark's thanks with my own. You calmed her down quickly and effectively, before she could hurt herself or anyone else." Lexa added her own two cents, smile gone and eyes searching as she regarded the other girl carefully. "I'm even gladder that you at last decided to accept one of my invitations…sister."
There was a great deal of weight to that word, Clarke knew immediately, and her instincts were proven entirely correct when Ontari flushed slightly and directed her gaze at the table. A reaction that only lasted for a moment, however, before she clearly and visibly settled herself and looked up to meet Lexa's eyes with her own.
"I did, and I suppose that I ought to apologize for refusing them previously." She acknowledged, though it escaped no one's notice that she didn't actually make any apology. "As I told Kostia, a few things have changed. Things we need to speak on...sister."
"And speak on them we will." Lexa confirmed, before smiling and looking around the table again. "Now, let's leave such serious things aside for the time being. This is meant to be a relaxed conversation and a light meal, after all. Shall we begin with simple introductions then?"
The suggestion was a reasonable one. Knowing one another's names by circumstance was all well and good, but it didn't break the ice the way a round-table of introductions would. Seeing their collective agreement, Lexa nodded in satisfaction and placed a hand on her chest, bowing her head slightly.
"Alexandria kom Trikru. I have the honor of being Heda of the Twelve Clans of the Coalition, called Heda the Reunifier for my efforts to mend the damage and the rifts left in the wake of Sheidheda's heresies. But I invite both you, Klark, and you Ontari to call me Leksa when in private." She said formally, before smiling over at Kostia. "Kostia and I grew up in the same village, and she has been at my side since we were little more than children. Never have I had a dearer friend than she."
"Maker, Leksa, this is supposed to be a self-introduction, not a chance for you to talk about me." Costia groaned with a slight roll of her eyes, though she didn't do anything else besides look at Clarke and Ontari. "Kostia kom Trikru. I'm Leksa's personal scout. I get the lay of the land for her whenever and wherever she needs it, whatever doing so requires. Like checking out the fallen sky-metal were we fought the Maunon."
Odd that neither of them mentioned the fact that Costia was Lexa's lover, especially given how free the members of the Coalition seemed to be with love as it was, but Clarke had nowhere near enough social experience here on Earth to know why that wouldn't be the case. It wasn't as if she and Ontari didn't already know that was the case, so why not mention it? The Grounders seemed to have a rather open society, but perhaps this sort of thing was an exception? Maybe it was because of Lexa's rank?
"Ontari kom Azgedakru." The frankly small girl introduced herself, a description that rather abruptly and startlingly came to mind as Clarke looked at her in comparison to Costia and Lexa with a mind that was continuing to come online and settle into normal function. And it wasn't as if the other two girls were towering giants either. There was silence for a moment as Ontari thought, before shrugging with a wry smile. "Not much more to me than being a Chosen. I spent my entire life preparing for and participating in the contests to become one after my parents died, so…"
She shrugged again, looking a bit uncomfortable, and Clarke considered saying something sympathetic (she knew what it was like to lose a parent, after all), but one look at the faint scowl on Ontari's face told her that it might not be the best idea. The other girl was clearly uncomfortable and reluctant about the situation she is, though no less determined to carry on, and sympathy (all too easily seen as pity, she would guess, by a warrior) from a stranger wasn't likely to improve her mood.
Perhaps another time, when they were in a less fraught situation, where she could offer the conversation in a subtle and easily missed way.
Then she opened her mouth to introduce herself, and realized she had no idea how the hell she could introduce herself. She couldn't exactly introduce herself as Clarke Griffon, after all, but she wasn't from a Clan either.
"Clarke. Just Clarke. I'm not from one of the Clans you know, so I'm afraid I don't really have a name that would fit your culture." She finally opted to say, for absence of anything else that would either make sense or not bring some rather weighty attention onto her. "I'm here on, well, a pilgrimage of sorts, on behalf of my people."
There, that seemed a safe enough answer, and it was one that was promptly accepted…though was that a strange glint in Costia and Lexa's eyes…? No, that was nothing, probably just simple curiosity. And why wouldn't they be curious? She had just said she was from an entire group of people, a society, that was unknown to them. Anyone would be curious about that, never mind a pair of leaders.
"A pilgrimage? To where? Why?" Ontari asked, curious, and Clarke shot her a somewhat wooden smile, though at least this time she had an answer ready, and one that was true to boot.
"Here, actually, or at least this region. My own people respect Alexia Griffin a great deal, we would not have survived the Final War if it were not for her. The hope was that I would find more information about her here." She explained, well aware of the gaping holes in her story and veritable mountains of unspoken additional details that were lingering in the silence and desperately hoping that none of them would follow up.
Fortunately, none of them did, likely due in no small part to the sudden and silent influx of staff from a door Clarke hadn't even realized was there, each carrying some manner of food or drink. In the blink of an eye, the table was laden with an incredible spread of richly-smelling, complicated looking foods. Foods that Clarke had either only seen in pictures, or had never seen before at all.
And there was wine, as well. Dark crimson liquid that filled glasses of a truly fine quality.
It was more food and better food than Clarke had ever seen in one place before, the smell quite literally making her mouth water, but she hesitated. She had been warned, as part of both Earth Skills and her more advanced classes, that her body would be in no way used to anything that she might find on Earth for food and drink alike. Radiation issues aside, the Ark was a fairly sterile environment, and while she (and every other Arker) was heavily modified to maintain their immune systems, she had still spent her entire life on a space station eating simple and repetitive fare.
"My apologies for the simplicity of the fare. Had I known Heda was having such esteemed guests, I would have prepared something better." An older man, the only one of the group of servants that hadn't been carrying something, bowed contritely to the table. Clarke's jaw damn near dropped, because what the hell did he mean, 'simple fare'?! He seemed to see her expression, and bowed lower with another apology on his lips, and she shook her head rapidly.
"Forgive me, I am not offended or angered by what you offer, master chef, only shocked that you consider this simple fare. This is better by far than anything I have ever seen or smelled before, and I can guarantee you it will taste better than my wildest dreams." She hastened to assure him, and his expression brightened.
"I agree with Klark, you have nothing to be ashamed of, master Rahmsay. This is a fine meal for the time of day, and finer still for the short notice I gave you." Lexa agreed, smiling at the man, though her smile took on a distinctly teasing note as she continued. "Of course, if Klark finds this to be so impressive as it seems she does, you shall have to make something greater still the first time she joins us for supper."
"Never you fear, Heda! I'll leave you and your guests alike in awe! Let it never be said that Master Chef Rahmsay doesn't serve the finest of meals!" the man vowed, a little more intensely than Clarke thought was strictly called for in response to the prospect of serving a meal, but who was she to criticize the dedication and love a man had for his craft?
The man and his subrodinates bowed their way from the room, leaving the quartet of young women to their meal. A meal that was taken to with gusto and a distinct lack of ceremony.
There was a soft round of giggling in the immediate aftermath of Clarke taking her first bite, a direct result of the sound that poured from her throat when the flavours flowed across her tongue. She was pretty sure that she teared up a little too, though none of the others were gauche enough to comment on it directly.
The meal went quickly, filled with idle chatter about the meal and about themselves. Clarke could have slapped herself a couple of times over the course of events, having said quite a bit more than she planned more than once. Still, none of the other girls seemed to find anything that she had said to be too suspicious or outlandish, judging from their responses and their body language. Oh, they most certainly thought she was strange, but as far as she could tell all of that strangeness was being chalked up to her being a foreign grounder, not a prophecy child from the stars.
And thank God for that.
With the meal over, the group adjourned to a nearby lounge (with a roaring fireplace that had Clarke thoroughly and irrevocably absorbed in it's cheery, crackling, dancing heat) with their deserts (cake, actual cake! Made with real chocolate!) for further conversation. Conversation that lasted nearly and hour and, fortunately, focused on entirely innocent topics. Topics that didn't put Clarke's increasingly loose tongue at risk of further foolishness as she grew more inebriated (despite how little she was drinking, compared to the others) and more exhausted.
"Klark, I admire your determination and have enjoyed your company, but I think it's time for you to get some rest." Lexa said gently, after Clarke had dozed off in her chair for the third time in half an hour.
"I don't mean to be a poor guest, really…" she tried to protest, only to yawn before she could continue the sentence, and Lexa shook her head with a sympathetic look.
"Klark, you're not a poor guest. You were shot, twice, then was mounted on horseback for the better part of a day and a half, before spending three days in the infirmary. The fact that you have lasted this long is impressive, and I say that honestly, but you are quite clearly at the limit of your stamina. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She assured, before turning her attentions to Costia. "Kos, can you escort her to the rooms we set aside for her, and make sure she's safely settled? Not that I distrust the staff, of course, but Klark is rather more familiar with you.
"Of course I will. Come along, Klark. Better for you to head to bed and wake up stronger tomorrow then to force yourself to stay awake and slow your healing." Costia agreed immediately, the red-haired scout rising immediately to gentle pull Clarke to her feet.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Lexa, Ontari. I hope the next time we see each other I'm in better shape and able to properly enjoy your company." She said her farewell with all the dignity and the strength she could muster, which in fairness was not much, before leaning rather heavily on Costia as she was escorted from the room.
By the time she had been bundled into a sinfully soft bed, she was barely conscious. By the time the door shut with a quiet click behind Costia, she was asleep.
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Ontari swallowed nervously as the door closed behind Clarke and her guide, leaving her alone with her Heda. Her fellow Chosen. Her sister, by all social and cultural measure. The woman that she had spent so much of her life trying to depose…and the woman that was now watching her with a level of focused intensity that she had never before experienced.
"So. Kostia told me that you intend to sit out this Conclave. She even told me the reason you gave her. Too few Chosen, you said. I happen to agree, but that hasn't bothered you before. What's different now?" Leksa asked, and Ontari grimaced faintly.
"Starting with the hard questions first, huh?" she laughed a bit shakily, running a hand through her hair. As she marshaled her thoughts. "First and foremost, it did always bother me. One of the reasons that I wanted to take your place as Heda was to hold Conclaves more often to swell our numbers. Perhaps if all of your once-rivals hadn't given up once their counts had been reset I wouldn't be so concerned, but they did give up."
She fell silent for a moment, picking up one of the unused knives on the table as she considered just how to express herself properly, light playing along it's length as she began to toy with it almost absently.
"Something is on the horizon, Leksa. I can feel it. Something important, something dangerous, is happening. It's been a century since Praimfaya, a century of waiting. A century of struggle and conflict. Something has to happen soon, and whatever it will end up being will be too much for you and I to handle alone. Even if your Kostia helps us, even if you treat and trust her as if she were Chosen, it's not enough. We need more sisters, and I'm willing to put aside my pride, my dreams, my desires, and my plans if it means that some action can be taken. If I can't be Heda and lead, then I can be Chosen and advise. Either way, maintaining the status quo isn't acceptable any longer."
Leksa regarded her silently for a long, long moment. Scrutinizing her, inspecting her, evaluating her, and Ontari squared her jaw and her shoulders alike to meet that look head on. Willing the other girl to see her sincerity and her determination. Willing for her to realize that Ontari meant every word, and was unwilling to back down now that she had finally offered herself into the situation.
"Hmm. Alright, then. I believe you." She finally said, and despite a lifetime of training Ontari couldn't help the way that her shoulders slumped in relief. Smiling slightly at her reaction, Leksa continued. "I happen to agree with you as well, on several things. Not least of which is the need to have more Chosen, and that the best way to do so is to have more Conclaves. I've discussed it with my advisors several times, but we've always believed that it would compromise the economy and the harvest too much to do it more often than we currently are."
"The way you say that would lead one to believe that something has changed…" Ontari said slowly, the words taking on a questioning tilt at the end, and Leksa considered her for a moment.
"Can you keep Chosen secrets, Ontari? I know of your loyalty to your homeland, to your adoptive family, but can you, are you able to, keep a secret from them if I tell you to? If I declare something must be kept between only those of us who are Chosen, or those we agree should know?" she answered Ontari with a question of her own, and the Azgeda Chosen had to bite back her initial, instinctual, vitriolic response at the implication that she would break her vows as sully the Conclave, sully their sacred traditions.
The only thing that stilled her tongue was the equally instinctual acknowledgement that Leksa had reason to be suspicious of her motives. After months of rejecting every overture, ignoring every invitation, and after a lifetime of loyalty to someone that had never worked particularly hard to disguise her contempt for Leksa and desire to undermine her, it was only logical that an apparent abrupt change of opinion would seem…questionable, at best.
"I can. I know you don't have much cause to believe that, but if you know anything about me, you know that I truly believe in Pramheda's Wisdoms and her vision of our future. I want nothing more than the absolute best for our people, sister. I want The Mountain gone, the harvests rich, our homes strong and our people safe." She swore, and Leksa stared into her eyes silently before nodding.
"Much harm could be done in the service of such a belief, such a vow…but I don't think you have any such plans. Alright then. I suppose it's time for me to show you something that was left behind by the Pramheda herself." Leksa decided, getting to her feet and gesturing for Ontari to follow her. "It is called 'the Oracle', and until recently we did not understand why. Now we know…"
Bemused, befuddled, and excited all in equal measure, a dazed Ontari could only trail behind the other girl as they began to make their way through the palace's halls, listening as her Heda regaled her with the tail of an ancient, broken machine…and the terrifying, beautiful power she believed it held.