A sword clattered to the ground, strong steel pressed to dusky skin, the sound of heavy breathing and the dim noise of the crowd the only things she could hear. Hands upraised, a gesture of supplication.
"Yield! I…I yield."
A horn blared, signaling the end to the match, and Caris kom Sangedakru blinked to herself, withdrawing her blade and offering her free hand to her opponent, a first-timer from Floukru. The other girl looked up at her for a long moment with a scowl, before shaking her head and accepting the offer, allowing herself to be tugged to her feet. By the time she was standing, she had a small smile on her face, and she inclined her head respectfully and gave Caris' hand a squeeze.
"That was well fought. You've obviously won your past Conclaves for good reason." she said, sounding as though she actually meant it despite her obvious disappointment, and Caris had to resist the urge to respond that it hadn't been well fought. The girl might have been good enough to earn her way into a Conclave, but she was nowhere near good enough to win one. She was cautious to the point of being tentative, with a dueling style that seemed to be focused on letting her enemy strike first and then taking advantage of any openings that they left, but she lacked the skill and the reaction speeds required to actually follow through.
"Thank you. Your tenacity is admirable." was what she actually responded with, throttling back her attitude by way of long, arduous practice. She had always been brash, undiplomatic, opinionated, blunt at best. That hadn't changed since she became a warrior, no matter how many scraps it had gotten her into, but when she had started pursuing the rank of Chosen, she had been forced to learn some tact and diplomacy.
The Floukru girl released her hand with a nod, still breathing heavily as she bent to retrieve her fallen weapon. "Next time!" she said with determination gleaming in her eyes, despite the tiredness that hung on her like a shroud. "I'll improve, I'll get better, and next time, you'll be the won yielding to me!"
Caris kept her expression neutral, though inwardly she doubted there would be a next time for this opponent. The Conclave was unforgiving that way. One loss often meant the end of most people's ambitions and dreams, with only a few having the fortitude or the skill to press on and keep trying. Still, if she was proven wrong about this particular dreamer, perhaps their next fight would be more noteworthy.
Sheathing her blade and stepping back, ignoring the approval of the crowd for the moment, she cast her eyes up to the Brass Box, where she knew that Heda was watching. Heda, Kostia, Chosen Ontari, and a bevy of other important guests and dignitaries from the Coalition…and Heda's strange personal guest. The golden-haired, sky-eyed girl that had appeared from nowhere on the day sky-metal had fallen, help Kostia kill the maunon that came to investigate it -getting shot twice in the effort, and surviving- before becoming a guest of honor in the palace itself. The guest of honor, one that lived in close proximity to the most important people in Coalition society despite how new she was to that society, recovering from her injuries with astonishing speed and never going anywhere unescorted. And not by regular guards, either, and not even by only the former tradeswoman Niylah, now her thrallina. No, if she was out of the palace she was accompanied by Kostia, Chosen Ontari, Heda Lexa herself, or -more often than not- all three at once.
As she made her way out of the arena, she reflected once again on the theory that she had arrived at, when she took all of that into account: that this 'Klark' was the Sky-Princess promised by Aleksia Pramheda.
It was the only logical conclusion to draw, given the circumstances around her appearance and her rapid ascent to a distinctly intimate rank and position here in Polis. Who but the prophesized heir to the throne could appear so suddenly, in such close proximity to the falling of sky-metal, suffer great injuries and not only survive, but be more-or-less fully recovered within a matter of weeks? Have people offering themselves into her service so quickly, merit the personal attentions and protection of the upper echelon of the Coalition? Even if Caris had believed in coincidence and serendipity, which she most certainly did not, there were far too many threads involved in this situation for that to be a reasonable explanation.
The question, of course, was how best to address the situation.
A blunt and honest confrontation was her first preference. She didn't approve of prevarication, nor was she particularly good at it, even in the most normal and best of circumstances. This situation qualified as neither of those, but it was that very fact that had her hesitating to listen to her preference. She was not unaware of how those who were ignorant, unaware of the realities, could draw their own erroneous conclusions based on their incomplete information. As such, it was quite possible that people would see her privately meeting with Heda -and the others-, then her winning the Conclave, through some sort of conspiratorial light. Presume that it had been some sort of plot or collusion between them, perhaps question the legitimacy of the Conclave and their victories.
This was, of course, wholly unacceptable, for several reasons.
That being the case, a different approach would be required, and she would have to carefully consider what that method would be. Something to pursue when she had the time or when an opportune moment presented itself.
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"Caris seems to be doing quite well for herself. I think that was her fastest win yet. And it seems she's being more…personable, this time around." Kostia remarked thoughtfully, nibbling on a plum as she watched the dark-haired member of the Desert Clan look away from The Box make her way out of the stadium.
"Good. If she intends to be Chosen, and maintain that position, she needs to know when to keep her thoughts to herself and when to moderate her words." Lexa…well, it wouldn't be entirely inaccurate to call it a grumble, it was far too dignified for that -thanks to all the watching eyes and listening ears sharing the box with them, and Lexa was nothing if not mindful of the image she had to project- but it was the word that suited best out of the many options. Several throats hummed in agreement, and Clarke looked around curiously.
"There is obviously something of a story here, given how many people seem to share your opinion. What is it about Caris that is so problematic?" she asked, sounding more than a little confused.
Ontari snorted, leaning back in her seat with a smirk playing at her lips. "Problematic isn't quite right. Caris is... opinionated, and completely lacking in any sort of self-restraint when it comes to expressing those opinions. She was once sitting in on a Senate meeting and told a Senator from the Blue Leaf that his negotiation tactics 'were as subtle as a rabid bear in heat and about as effective.'"
"To his face, without making the slightest effort to moderate her volume." Lexa added, the barest hint of amusement flickering in her otherwise composed expression. "During a major diplomatic summit in regards to trade between the clans after a particularly bad batch of storms."
Clarke's eyebrows shot up. "I'm guessing that didn't go over well."
"The Senator demanded satisfaction, seeming to forget whom he was dealing with." Kostia said, twirling the plum stem between her fingers before flicking it aside. "Caris gave it to him in the form of three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. She then proceeded to explain, in excruciating detail, exactly how his diplomatic approach could be improved while he was being treated by the healers. Apparently, she took issue with his 'gross inefficiency', by which I mean 'greed', in regards to the proposed percentages and tariffs."
"So, she's smart and capable, but has no filter and not much in the way of social niceties." Clarke drawled, and heads bobbed around the room. Glancing towards the now-empty arena, the next pair of combatants not yet having entered, she continued. "So what was it that makes you say she's improved her attitude?"
"Not so long ago, she would have simply left the arena without helping up her opponent up, and she would have likely done so after making blunt factual observations about her opponent's abilities that would have been humiliating and infuriating for the person hearing them. And not a single word of it would have been actively malicious, which either makes it better or worse, depending on your point of view." Lexa told her, and Clarke hummed softly in understanding as she chewed a strip of pork with an expression best described as 'contemplative'.
"So she's honest to a fault, doesn't hide behind falsehoods and empty words." Clarke mused, watching as the arena attendants cleared the space for the next match, brushing down the ground to ensure there were no faults in the footing nor any hazards that could pose an unexpected threat to life or limb. "I can respect that, even if it's not always... diplomatic."
"Honesty without tact is cruelty, and discussion without courtesy is foolishness." Lexa replied, her voice low enough that only those closest to her could hear. "A leader must know when truth serves and when it wounds needlessly. And causing a war or damaging trade agreements and alliances because you cannot be polite can cost a people as much as it might cost their leader."
"And yet she seeks to be Chosen," Ontari observed, accepting a goblet of wine from an attendant and taking a long sip. "A position that requires as much finesse with words as with weapons. More, perhaps, if I'm going to be honest. The flashiest -and most popular- part of a Conclave might be the duels, but it's not the largest or most intensive."
"I can see why that would be... challenging, sure." Clarke said, dabbing at her lips with a cloth napkin. "She sounds like she'd be valuable in the right position, though. Paired with someone to do the talking, I would imagine that her ability to pare things down to the core would prove useful. And she's obviously a good fighter, with a good heart, if she took issue with a Senator for being greedy when it came to food supplies after a crisis."
"Precisely why the Flamekeepers and judges let her continue to compete despite her..." Lexa paused, searching for the right word. "directness. The Chosen need not all be silver-tongued diplomats. Some serve better as the steel behind the smile. As long as she passes the tests, if not gracefully or with as much aplomb as might be preferred, she can continue her attempts."
"What about someone who passes the tests, but might not have the temperament, or might be tricking the testers?" Clarke queried, only to scowl as most of the room laughed, her expression and eyes darkening even as her cheeks pinkened from embarrassment.
Lexa's hand found Clarke's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's not mockery directed at you, Klark, only incredulity at the idea." she said quietly, apologetically. "The tests for Chosen cannot be deceived. Not in any meaningful way."
"The Conclave isn't just fighting and speeches, and it's not just in front of the public or a group of old men." Ontari explained, leaning forward to meet Clarke's eyes as best she could given their respective places in the room. "The moment someone wins their first Conclave, their entire life is put under scrutiny. Reports are gathered from their parents, their siblings, their extended families, their lovers. The people of their villages, the people they might have met while travelling, the people of Polis. Their teachers, their mentors, their comrades-in-arms. They are examined and questioned directly, their statements recorded by no less than three scribes, with six witnesses, and then the prospective Chosen is cross-examined using those very notes as a reference."
"Not all of them existed before Sheidheda, of course. Things were…smaller, I suppose, back then. Not as many witnesses, not as thorough an investigation, which is how she was able to succeed and come to power in the first place." Kostia added, jaw working as if she was resisting the urge to spit on the floor as she mentioned the hated woman. "But since she and her fellow traitors were dealt with, since the more stringent evaluations were put in place, no one with ill intentions or an…insurmountably problematic history has been allowed to make it past their first Conclave."
Clarke nodded slowly, absorbing this new and rather more detailed information, settling as her proverbial feathers were smoothed down again. "So Caris has passed these tests repeatedly, which means..."
"That her heart is true, even if her tongue is sharp, and I don't expect that to have changed at all since the last time she won." Lexa finished, a hint of satisfaction coloring her tone. "If she wins this Conclave, it will be her third time going through such an evaluation, and each time she has passed as flawlessly as any human could hope to."
"Of course, if she wins this time around, she'll have her third victory and become Chosen, which means that she'll be living in the palace with us. That could be…interesting." Kostia remarked, scratching her cheek lightly in thought. "We've only just settled into a comfortable dynamic between the four of us, and Niylah of course, so someone new joining the household would require some adjustment." she shrugged a little and smiled faintly. "Not that I'm complaining of course, just noting the irony of something like that happening so quickly after things settled into place."
"Adjustment is a constant in life," Lexa said with a small shrug, eyes tracking the new combatants as they entered the arena. "And Caris would be a valuable addition to our inner circle, if she can maintain that balance between honesty and diplomacy she's displaying today. Or, as you say, if she is paired with someoen for whom diplomacy is second-nature."
Clarke leaned forward slightly, studying the new fighters as they bowed to each other and the announcer introduced them, though she was listening only with half an ear, the majority of her attention on her companions. "So what exactly would her role be as Chosen? I understand the basic concept, that they're potential Hedas and act as your ranking assistants and officers, but that's pretty much it."
Ontari shifted in her seat, angling herself toward Clarke as she, too, left any attention on the arena behind in favor of conversation. "You're not really missing much, to be honest with you. Chosen are meant to be the primary advisors of the Heda they serve under, essentially a private Council that answers to her and serves her however necessary. Warriors, mentors, diplomats, observers. They're -we're- a family, by any determination of the word, sisters one and all. The people that Heda can count on, no matter what."
"And the people to keep Heda on the straight and narrow, when and if it proves necessary." Lexa added quietly, and a susurration of agreement flowed around the room, before she smiled and shrugged. "Fortunately, that's nothing Ontari and, perhaps, Caris will have to worry about in my case. If I was inclined to be a villain, which I'm not, I think Kostia would correct my behavior before anyone else had to lift a finger."
"You had better believe it." Kostia agreed with a laugh, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Lexa's cheek. "Though I doubt it would ever come to that. Lexa's too good a person for that sort of nonsense."
Clarke watched the interaction with a small smile playing at her lips. In the weeks since her arrival in Polis, she'd witnessed countless moments like this, and it never got old. Nor did it stop reminding her of her own interactions with her 'lieutenants' -not that she had ever thought of them as such, they were her friends- up on the Ark, especially Octavia and Raven. Which had led her to spend more than a few nights lying awake -Niylah in her arms or curled up against her, more often than not- thinking about how she felt about the Arkers she had always unconsciously considered 'hers'. It had also had her wondering how their eventual dynamic would work out, because while she didn't put much stock in prophecies -especially prophecies that predicted she was going to be Queen of Humanity and have a lesbian harem-, Lexa and the rest of the Coalition (certainly the rest of the young women around her) certainly did. And since that rophecy they put so much faith in meant they were all going to be her wives, she was eventually going to have to figure out how to make things work between them and the girls she cared for on the Ark, wasn't she? God, she needed some time away from all of this…
"Do you think we could go for a ride out of the city sometime soon?" she blurted the words without much thought, before blushing furiously as many pairs of eyes turned towards her. "It's just…I went from being inside where my people live, to inside the bunker with Niylah, to wounded and inside the bunker with Niylah and Kostia, to here. I've barely seen anything of the outside world, and I'd really like to."
"Certainly. Tomorrow is a rest day for the Conclave contestants anyway, and I have to admit I've wanted to get out of Polis a little myself. I would ask, though, that you show Ontari and myself to this bunker that you all sheltered in. I admit, despite what you see around you, and what you've seen in the palace, I would greatly enjoy seeing such an untouched and undisturbed section of the Old World." Lexa responded promptly, sounding genuinely interested, and from the looks on her face Ontari felt the same way. Not all that surprising, really, given their respective positions. Actually, it wouldn't be all that surprising for anyone to be interested, and Clarke had no problems with promptly agreeing. Looking quite pleased, Lexa settled back in her seat. "Good. I'm looking forward to this. Especially the library Kostia told me is there. She said it was quite impressive."
"Probably a few hundred books. Pristine, as far as I can tell." Clarke confirmed, and if it wasn't for the environment and the audience, she had the impression that Lexa would be rubbing her hands together in excitement. Honestly, it was cute how excited the ruler -and that's exactly what she was, from everything Clarke understood about Coalition society, the Senate were advisors and functioned more as a Parliament, but Lexa very much held the majority of the power in her own two hands- and amazonian woman was over the idea of room full of books. Then again, hadn't they just finished explaining to her that the ability to fight was a small, even less-important, portion of what it meant to be a leader amongst their people? So perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised after all.
Smiling to herself, Clarke imagined what Lexa would look like when she finally beheld the bunker's library. Maybe she should find some kind of a blindfold, just so that she could make the big reveal that much better.
She tried -not very hard, she might admit if pressed- to ignore the kindle of heat low in her stomach at the mental image of putting a blindfold on Lexa…or Lexa putting one on her.
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The forest was just as beautiful as the first time that she had ridden through it, but with a clearer head and uninjured body, Clarke found herself able to appreciate it in a way she hadn't before. The sunlight, dappled through the leaves, filtered through the canopy above, casting ever-shifting patterns across the forest floor and the remains of what had once been a proper road.
Or not so proper, given what she had heard about the streets and highways of the old world, and the 'potholes' that had once littered them.
Nature had reclaimed much of it over the past century, with roots cracking through the remaining patches of asphalt and plants bursting forth from every available crevice, and -strangely enough, Clarke could admit to herself- she found the combination of old and new to be very beautiful. It should be depressing, she knew that, or horrifying, or some other negative emotion. After all, the decay stretched out before her was a blatant reminder of the colossal war that had eradicated the majority of mankind and reduced the survivors (on the ground, at least) to a society that had more in common with the feudal and medieval eras than anything else. Yet beautiful is exactly what it was, and as inappropriate as the statement might be, it was one she would stand by if challenged.
The environment wasn't the only thing that was a beauty, either. Lexa had personally selected a gorgeous -and extremely surefooted and patient, for which Clarke was very grateful- pinto mare for her to ride, and Piper had both been kind and welcoming to Clarke, suffering no issues picking her way across the occasionally-uneven terrain.
"Enjoying the sights more this time around, domina?" Niylah asked from beside her, guiding her own roan gelding along with a natural ease that had Clarke shaking her head in no small amount of jealousy every few miles.
"Given I can actually enjoy them at all this time around, I would have to say that I am, yes. Oddly enough, semi-conscious and delirious from stress, exhaustion, and blood-loss makes it difficult to embrace nature and take in the verdant vista that surrounds us." Clarke responded dryly, shaking her head as Niylah's laughter was joined by Kostia's, and Lexa trotted up on her other side, shaking her head with a small smile of her own.
"I can imagine that your injuries would have made things difficult, and I'm glad that you're enjoying it now. The world may be a hard one, now, compared to the wonders of the Old World, but I think it is a far more beautiful one." the dark-haired young woman remarked, visibly taking in the beauty around them. "I miss it, whenever I'm in Polis for long stretches of time, which happens far more often than I would prefer. As proud as I am of what I've accomplished, and as pleased as I am to do my duty, and even as much as I enjoy the amenities Polis and the palace have on offer, at my heart this is where I am happiest. Riding through the forests of my homeland."
Clarke studied Lexa's profile, admiring how sunlight played across her features, illuminating the subtle relaxation that had settled over her since they'd left the city behind. It was a side of the commander she hadn't seen before, even in their most private moments in the palace – less guarded, more at peace, carrying what could only be described as softness in her body and on her face.
"I understand that feeling." she said after a moment of silent observation, adjusting her posture as Piper navigated around a fallen log. "Back home, all the plants we had -and there weren't many, despite all our efforts- were in the hydroponics bays, but the biggest thing those could grow were small bushes, mosses and mushrooms. I used to sneak in whenever I could, just to look down at all the life that we had there. Even The Last Tree, which was brought up as a seedling just before the bombs dropped, wasn't much taller than me." she gestured to the towering, thick trees around them. "I'd only ever seen something like this as pictures in a book, or the surviving movies, and they didn't come close to doing it justice. How could they?"
"No picture ever could," Lexa agreed, her voice dropping to a contemplative murmur. "Not even the most skilled artist can capture the way the breeze moves through the leaves, or how the light shifts as clouds pass overhead. Even 'movies', as I understand them to be, would be hollow substitute." She gestured broadly at the canopy above them. "This is, on the other hand, is reality. Is living history. Some of these trees stood here when the world burned. They have witnessed more than I think we can imagine."
Clarke nodded, breathing deeply of the forest air. She could smell something sweet on the breeze, perhaps wildflowers of some kind blooming nearby, and she took a moment to thank God that she hadn't been born with allergies of any kind. Otherwise, her life would be truly miserable.
"Do you think your people miss these things?" Kostia asked, curiosity evident in her voice. "Even though they've never known them?"
Clarke considered this, her hand absently stroking Piper's neck as the mare shook her mane and nickered softly. "I think we miss them without knowing what we're missing. There's a... hollowness to life back home. A sterility that goes beyond just the recycled air and metal walls. And it doesn't help that, thanks to the Last Tree and the hydroponics bays, we had a hint, slim though it was, of what the ground would be like. A taste that was enough to inspire hunger, I suppose, to use a metaphor."
Several faces suggested her words were likely to kick off a broader discussion, though she wasn't sure what exactly that would be, when Lexa's upraised hand had the entire group coming to a halt, hands falling onto weapons and looking around as Lexa peered into the forest with narrowed eyes, her sword partially drawn from it's scabbard, and Clarke clutched the hilt of her freshly-returned kukri.
"What is it?" she murmured, not sure how much help she could be in either finding a potential threat or confronting it, but unwilling to hide behind Lexa and the rest of her new-found friends.
"There's something in the woods. Something big. How close are we to that bunker of yours?" Lexa murmured back, and Clarke took a moment to flick her MERCS on and check her map, two helpfully blinking dots denoting her location and that of the bunker.
"Two miles, maybe a bit less." she responded with a calm that she didn't really feel, well-aware that there were only a few reasons why a question like that would be getting asked, and equally aware that few -if any- of those reasons were good ones. Most of them involved attempting to outrun something and reach safety before it could catch up.
"We need to move. Now." Lexa's voice was low and tight but commandingly firm, her eyes never leaving the treeline. "There's a yong pauna in these woods. It's watching us."
Clarke didn't know what a yong pauna was, but the immediate tension that rippled through the group told her everything she needed to know, sans the particulars and the finer details. Ontari's hand hefted a spear while Kostia notched an arrow to her bow and half-drew the string in one fluid motion, and the handful of guards that they had brought with them danced their own mounts forward to act as a living wall.
"Domina," Niylah whispered urgently, maneuvering her mount closer to Clarke's, "pauna are massive beasts. Mutations from the old world. They're—"
A deafening roar cut through the forest, sending birds scattering from the canopy. Clarke's mare whinnied in terror, nearly rearing before Clarke managed to steady her with a firm hand and soothing words she didn't know she possessed.
"Go!" Lexa shouted, as something enormous burst out of cover in an explosion of greenery, a mass of black that plowed into one of their guards. He went down without a sound, life smashed from his body in a single blow, and his horse screamed and collapsed as it's spine was broken. Kostia's bow sang, the arrow flashing through the air, to bury itself in short, bristled hair, and Clarke gaped for a moment at the sight of the massive gorilla that didn't seem to give a good-goddamn about the steel-tipped shaft that had just sprouted from it's chest as it bellowed at them, pulping the fallen horse's head as it almost negligently back handed the poor creature.
Then the moment was over, and there was a thunder of hooves as everyone urged their horses into a gallop, the rhythmic grunting and pounding steps behind them making it all-too-clear that the beast was pursuing them, and quickly. Far more quickly than she had thought something that large, and with as awkward a gate could move but (as she chanced a glance of her shoulder and swore at the sight of it only a few yards behind them) it seemed it's lunging, four-limbed charge was allowing it to devour an astonishing amount of distance quickly. Within a a few hundred yards, it became obvious that they couldn't hope to outrun it long enough to reach the bunker, never mind make their way inside, and the surviving guards seemed to recognize that fact.
"Run, Heda! We will draw it away!" their leader shouted, as they wheeled their mounts around to ride a divergent course. A hurled spear and a lucky shot from a bow had the pauna turning to follow them, more interested in nearer and more painful prey. Clarke turned to look at them, eyes wide, and something in her body language must have told those with her what she intended to do, because Lexa barked at her.
"Don't stop, don't follow them!"
"What?! Lexa, we can't just…!" she protested immediately, but was cut off harshly.
"We can and we will! We don't have the numbers or the weapons to kill a yong pauna! There is nothing we can do! Now ride!"
Clarke couldn't do anything but obey, bitterly aware that -even if they wouldn't intervene to stop her from heading back, which they quite likely would- she alone had neither the ability nor the knowledge required to help. And so she rode on, bent over Piper's neck, listening to the hoarse bellows and screams that echoed behind them.