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Shall We Play A Game, a story that is technically a Yu-Gi-Oh and Red River/Anatolia Story crossover, but is mostly as historical romance/drama set in Ancient Egypt. I'm sure duels will happen at some point... Currently on Chapter Nine. This currently may be undergoing a major shift and rewrite.
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Clarke had thought that she knew what a Coalition celebration looked like, after the they had killed that mutant gorilla, and before that she'd thought she knew what a Coalition celebration looked like in the evenings after the Conclave's daily events were over. As it turned out, all of that combined paled in comparison to the atmosphere and activities that had consumed Polis -and, she would wager, the settlements that had already heard the news- when Caris had won her third Conclave and become Chosen.
The emotions were palpable. Joy, hope, excitement, triumph, happiness…all of them and more, so thick that Clarke could smell them on the wind and taste them in the air, and not just because she could smell the sex and booze and all the other scents of celebration. Even though those people from the Clans whose candidates had lost were disappointed about said losses, their dominant emotions were all distinctly positive, and Clarke realized that, for all the Coalition's faults and the inherent cracks she had come to realize existed between the Clans, they were truly of one mind when it came to the promises of stability and security that successful Conclaves brought.
And, from what she had come to gather, they were relieved and joyous to see that the Conclaves were once again restored to their rightful nature. She didn't know much about the woman known as Sheidheda, whose name was forbidden to speak and whose history was a subject best left undiscussed outside of the most solemn and private of occasions, but she did know that the woman (girl, really, like all Chosen seemed to be) had turned the Conclaves into nightmarish blood sport. Small wonder that the people were happy to see such things firmly relegated to the past. Honestly, it was remarkable -and more than a little frightening- how deep the stain on the Coalition's collective psyche Sheidheda had left, given her relatively quick downfall and the fact that Leksa was the second Heda since her defeat.
At any rate, and leaving all contemplations of such things aside for a far more appropriate time, Clarke couldn't help but marvel at the near-riotous expressions of jubilation that were consuming the city. Even what few social mores -in regards to public decency of various kinds, at any rate- had gone entirely out the window, turning the city into one giant, drunken, drug-enhanced, gluttonous orgy. You could barely hear the music over the sounds of couples (or more) indulging themselves in pleasure, and Clarke had thought she was going to pass out when she had seen a pair of men and a pair of women at the center of a large crowd, the obviously-submissive quartet being…well, suffice it to say that Clarke had thought she was being particularly adventurous of late with Niylah, but clearly she had a ways to go. And, judging by look of mingled hunger and speculation on her lover's face, Niylah fully intended for exactly for her to do so.
It had also been a great surprise to find out that Indra -who was not, in any way, shape, or form someone Clarke would have for even a moment considered 'submissive'- ever so meekly place herself at the not-so-tender mercies of Gustus. Honestly, and fully aware that she didn't exactly have the most significant personal relationships with either of them, she personally would have put money on it being the other way around. A thought that, when blurted out by a surprise-loosened tongue, had earned her an amused chiding from Leksa that her ability to discern dominants from submissives clearly still needed some work.
And God help her, but Niylah had promptly, and smugly, remarked that she would teach Clarke that, too. Because damned if the girl wasn't dead-set on getting Clarke into bed with more people, apparently having taken their earlier conversation from bed as something of a challenge. Or, perhaps, a lifeline, because Niylah had said that she couldn't keep up with Clarke alone, and Clarke had made a point of proving her entirely correct over the course of the evening. By the time the preliminary celebrations had ended -the initial feast, the speeches, et cetera-, Niylah had been wrung out and more than a little drunk, giving Clarke the perfect opportunity to take her back to the palace and leave the rest of the celebrants behind.
The only potential fly in the ointment was the fact that she had no idea where Kostia, Leksa, and Ontari were. They had left with Caris after the latter's victory feast, doubtlessly to do whatever it was that Chosen had to do from an official perspective. They hadn't said and Clarke hadn't asked, well aware that -as close as she had grown to Leksa and the others, and as fondly as they all mutually thought of one another- there were some things that it wasn't her business to know. Of course, as problematic as it was that she didn't know their location, which worried her that they might randomly pop out of God-only-knows-where and surprise her in the midst of her sneaking about, the fact that they were off having a private and secret meeting meant that she wouldn't have to lie quite so much in order to do her sneaking about.
Which was good, because she wasn't sure how well she could like to the girls to begin with, and she was even less sure about her ability to lie surpassing their ability to catch her out in the act. And she hated lying to them, hated that she was having to tell half-truths and staying silent at the very best, but she didn't have a choice. Before, when she hadn't known Leksa and the others as well as she thought she now did, she had feared what might happen if they had discovered who she was and found her wanting. Now, she was…well, she was still afraid of them finding her wanting, but not because she was afraid they would try to hurt her. No, now she was afraid that the people she had come to care for would be disappointed in her, would be let down by her.
No, she would keep her secrets until she could be even half the girl that they all dreamed she was, and pray that that was sufficient. Of course, to do that, she needed to deal with tonight's little adventure first, and that meant getting Niylah into bed so that she could make her…well, not escape, but her quiet if temporary exit.
Fortunately, Niylah was very light. Unfortunately, she was somewhat resistant to leaving the party early.
"Dominaaaaaaa…" the girl in question whined at her sleepily, breaking her train of thought and pouting at her with bleary eyes that none-the-less shone happily. "Domina, we don't need to goooo, we can stay and celebrate with everyone else~!"
"We can celebrate more later, Sunshine, but you're drunk and exhausted, and I'm more than a little drunk and tired myself. The last thing I need to do is get so drunk I make a fool out of myself, and you're too out of it to keep me from doing exactly that." Clarke responded, kissing her gently on the forehead as she stepped out of the Arena into the streets of Polis, glad that it was as close as it was to the Palace. She was stronger than she had been when she first arrived, much stronger, but the last thing she wanted to do is drop her Sunshine on the hard, unyielding surface of the street. "Besides, didn't I hear something about how the festivities are going to last a week at least? We'll have plenty of time for more tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that."
Niylah let a happy sound out at that, snuggling closer and burying her face in Clarke's neck, and thought Clarke didn't blush as hard as she would have even a couple of weeks ago, the faint pink stain to her cheeks and the soft smile on her lips would have made it clear to anyone and everyone around her just how pleased she was in this moment. She clicked her tongue at Geri and Freki, a slightly chastising note to the sound, and both whined as they abandoned their slow approach to a group of feasting Clanspeople to fall in at her heels. Intent on stealing some food or begging for it, the bottomless beasts, she thought affectionately.
Several passersby, soldiers and civilians both, offered to lend a hand, and Clarke was gratified by it, even if she politely refused the offers. The same offers likely would have been made up on the Ark, and likely without any malice or ulterior motives, but somehow it felt different, more meaningful here on Earth. How or why, she couldn't say, but it felt more, and by the time she reached the Palace she was smiling broadly and humming a calm but happy tune to herself.
Tucking in Niylah was an easy feat, her thrallina having dozed off half-way through the short trip from Arena to Palace, with the only wrinkle in the attempt being the odd strength she seemed to gain when it came to clinging to Clarke. Still, within half an hour, Clarke was slipping from her rooms…and a few seconds after that, she was slipping back in and making fierce shushing noises at her wolfen companions as they start to make a tumult and scratch at the door. In the end, she hadn't had much of a choice to bring them along, unable to silence them and unwilling to risk the racket that they seemed intent on making if she tried to draw attention to her absence from her rooms.
"If either of you gives me away and ruins this," she hissed at the pair of wolves as they padded alongside her through the palace corridors. "I swear I'll feed you nothing but vegetables for a week."
The threat was a hollow one, of course, Clarke could never punish her faithful companions so severely, but Geri and Freki seemed to somehow understand the gravity of the situation. They moved with surprising stealth for creatures their size, their paws making barely a whisper against the stone floors, and Clarke was once again reminded that -despite their puppy-ish ways and attitudes- they were still a pair of the most perfectly evolved predators in history.
The palace was eerily quiet compared to the raucous celebrations still echoing from the city below and beyond it. Most of the guards, and the staff for that matter, were busy with their own celebrations in their own sections of the palace, leaving the interior halls essentially deserted with the building's security seen to by the few guards (in rotating shifts) posted to the entrances and exits.
All of which worked perfectly for Clarke's goals. She knew the palace layout well enough by now to navigate the less-traveled corridors, avoiding the main thoroughfares where she might encounter any remaining guards or staff, in order to make her way to the back garden. Someplace that she had never been before, someplace that she hadn't even been shown or told about, but according to ALIE it was where her great-grandmother had been buried in a small mausoleum. A mausoleum that guarded, for want of a better word, the entrance to The Vault that she needed to find.
The entrance to the garden proved easier to find than she had expected, for a place that seemed to be something of an untouchable secret. ALIE's directions, overlaid in her vision like a ghostly map by her Focus, guided her down a hallway and through an antechamber that she hadn't even known existed. The door on the far side was small and unassuming, tucked behind a tapestry that depicted an odd emblem, like a stylized A, one that she thought she might vaguely recognize from somewhere else. Clarke pushed it open carefully, wincing at the faint creak of a door that hadn't been opened in quite some time.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, given how little travel the door seemed to have recieved, the garden beyond was nothing like the well-maintained courtyards and gardens elsewhere in the palace or on it's grounds. This was wilder, older, with flowering vines that had grown unchecked across stone pathways and trees whose branches formed a natural canopy overhead. She wouldn't go so far as to call it 'untamed', but there was a bent of nature here that was far closer to the forests than anything in Polis.
Geri and Freki immediately began sniffing around the garden's perimeter, their ears pricked forward with interest as they explored this new, natural space, and Clarke took a moment to smile at their excitement as they snuffled at plants, dug at the dirt, and generally acted like the canines that they were. Then her smile faded as her eyes fell on the small, modest mausoleum that dominated the center of the garden's rear half.
It was…well, she had called it modest, and modest it was, though it was beautiful in it's simplicity.
Made of a pale, almost glossy stone weathered by time, the rectangular structure stood not much taller than Clarke herself and was almost entirely undecorated. Vines with tiny blue flowers climbed its corners, and moss softened the edges of its foundation. A single door faced her, crafted of what appeared to be metal—not the crude iron or steel she'd seen throughout Polis, nor even something like the images of the old world that she remembered, but something more refined, with a subtle luster that caught the moonlight filtering through the canopy above.
Clarke approached slowly, her heart thundering in her chest, a strange and heavy weight on her shoulders, her eyes caressing every visible inch of stone. This was it. The resting place of her great-grandmother, the woman whose actions both on and above the Earth had ensured mankind had survived. And not just survived, but thrived as best was possible under the circumstances. Finally, she was only inches from the door itself.
It had no handle, only a slight indentation in the shape of a hand set into the very center of the door, where one might expect a lock. Clarke glanced back at her wolves, who had paused in their own investigations to watch her curiously, before taking a fortifying breath and placing her hand in the grooves.
The metal warmed beneath her palm immediately, not uncomfortably so but with an unmistakable sense of recognition, making it clear that this indentation was, indeed, a great deal more than some sort of strange decorations. A soft blue glow began to gleam beneath her skin, spreading outward in delicate lines that traced patterns across the door's surface - patterns that looked almost like circuitry, though far more elegant than anything she'd seen in the Ark's utilitarian designs.
With a whisper-soft sound, like a sigh of relief, the door swung inward. Far too quite, far too smooth, for a door that has been exposed to some degree of the elements for a century, and Clarke shivered slightly in mild discomfort.
Clarke hesitated at the threshold, peering into the darkness beyond, barely able to pierce it even with the technology she had on hand. The air that drifted out was cool and dry, carrying with it the faint scent of something she couldn't quite identify - not decay or age, but something almost floral, like dried herbs or ancient perfume. She shivered again, stronger this time, at another display of what she knew to be unnatural. Behind her, Geri whined softly, and she felt both wolves come up to press against her legs as they, too, started into the abyss.
She shook her head, pushing her formless doubts aside. Explanations, revelations, and the methods she needed to save her people lay below. Now wasn't the time to hesitate, not after she had come so far already, and she activated the light function on her MERCS and set her foot into the frame of the door…and light blazed in sequence as twin rows of white-blue arc-lights sprang to life.
Arc-lights that revealed a set of steps -made from the same, though far cleaner and less weather, stone as the mausoleums exterior, which Clarke could now absently recognize as marble- descending into what appeared to be a much larger space than the modest mausoleum above would suggest. Then again, if this was some sort of great secret left behind by her great-grandmother, it was hardly a surprise that she would be successfully be able to hide it. Easy to hide something underneath a building that you designed and built yourself, after all.
Taking another breath and giving her two pups scratches that were as much about reassuring them as they were for reassuring herself, Clarke started to descend. Carefully, with one hand trailing along the carved wall for balance, the wolves padding silently behind her, seemingly aware enough of the circumstances to not crowd her so badly that she risked falling. The deeper they went, the stronger the floral scent grew, mixing now with something metallic and ozone-sharp that reminded her of the Ark's computer cores and power generators. There was technology down here, powerful and advanced technology.
Then she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a room full of machines, most of which she didn't recognize and could hardly imagine the function of, but that wasn't what immediately caught her eye. No, the thing that had her jerking to a halt and staring was the presence of a woman that she recognized fairly well, one that was turning to face her with a small smile on her lips.
"Hello, Clarke. It's good to see you again."
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Caris wasn't entirely sure why the room was staring at her like this, with such surprised expressions on their faces. It was obvious that they knew who and what Klark was, so she really didn't understand why they would be so shocked that she was equally aware.
"Well…" Kostia half-laughed, half-sighed after a long moment, shaking her head with a wry smile, glancing at her domina and Chosen Ontari. "All that time practicing what to say and preparing for a big reveal was for nothing, it seems, doesn't it? She figured out the whole thing all by herself, and without all the advantages that I had, either."
"I…admit to being surprised. And impressed." Heda admitted after a long moment, shaking her head as well, though she didn't smile. Instead, her expression was one of intense scrutiny, and Caris resisted -with some difficulty- the urge to shift uncomfortably as her Heda turned that look on her. "Have you told anyone else about this, Caris? Directly, indirectly, even speculated on it where others might have heard you?"
"I have not, no. I did not know if I was correct in my belief, and so would not want to inadvertently spread a dangerous falsehood. However, now that I know I was right, I wish to know why this has not been announced to the people?" Caris responded, the question not necessarily sharp, but certainly pointed, and there was a rolling flow of sighs that went around the room.
"There is a simple answer, and a far more complicated one." Leksa started, drumming her fingers lightly on the arm of her chair. "For the first, Klark isn't yet ready to live up to the expectations our people will place on her shoulders. She's coming along quickly under our guidance and training, but she's still dangerously ignorant of what is required to survive here on the ground. And she is certainly not a great warrior yet, incapable of winning a Conclave for example."
"I see. That is unfortunate. Perhaps keeping it a secret for now is a wiser choice than risking a bad reception." Caris said slowly, her own eyes narrowing thoughtfully, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. "But even if it is, I do not like it. Why is she like this?"
"That's part of the more complicated explanation, which is that Klark doesn't know that we know who she is. For that matter, we're not even sure about how much of her heritage she is aware of. We've alluded to the Sky Princess a few times around her, tested her reactions, and the results were…" Leksa paused, visibly considering what word to use, before settling on, "Inconclusive. As a result, we've been building up our relationships, our trust, with Klark, so that she isn't as inclined to make any…precipitous decisions in the heat of the moment."
"Ah, I see. You are afraid that she will become angry with you and either leave or denounce you." Caris blinked, the thought admittedly not having occurred to her, and she frowned slightly to herself -totally missing the exasperated looks and slight winces from the other three women in the room- before nodding. "This is a reasonable concern, and your caution makes sense."
"I'm glad to hear it, sister." Leksa's tone was more than a little dry, getting a confused head tilt from the Desert Clan Chosen, but neither of them pursued the matter any further, instead falling silent for a moment before Leksa sighed. "Frankly, we didn't bring you here to fill you in entirely. That will happen soon enough, but your ignorance of all the details could prove beneficial, not to mention the fact that we're short on time."
"How so?" Caris arched an eyebrow, and the three of them exchanged glances, before Ontari answered.
"We know why Klark is here, in Polis. She was sent to discover if it was possible to live on the ground, and has to report back to the ruling Council of her people, otherwise they will start killing members of the population to preserve resources. To do that, she has to activate a machine here in the Palace, called The ORACLE." She explained, gesturing vaguely in the direction of said machine's residence. "We strongly believe that she intends to do so tonight, when the vast majority of the guards and staff are both absent from their posts, drunk, and highly distracted. We intend to be waiting for her."
"You do not think such a surprising confrontation would come across as threatening?" Caris asked, somewhat skeptically, and it was immediately apparent that it hadn't occurred to the three women across from her that confronting Klark in such a way could cause some degree of emotional distress. Caris judged this to be problematic, because it indicated that they were not yet as familiar with Clarke as they might have hoped, and that their plans might be upended as a result.
"Emotional distress? Why would she be distressed?" Ontari asked, her brow furrowing in confusion and some small amount of distress. "We are simply waiting to speak with her when she arrives, it's not like we're planning on hurting her. We won't confront her with, with drawn swords or something."
"Because," Caris explained, wondering why it was that they didn't understand this and she did. She wasn't exactly famous for her emotional sensitivity or empathy, after all, but then again she was less…involved than they were. "she believes she is successfully sneaking around, succeeding in keeping her secrets. To find you waiting for her would be like being caught in a trap. This is a frightening thing for most people. It would have been better to confront her immediately upon identifying her, but having not done so, you should now trust that she will come to you when she is ready."
"That's..." Leksa began, then paused, her expression shifting from confident to uncertain, and she ran a hand through her hair as she visibly considered the situation with a new perspective. "That's actually a fair point."
Ontari crossed her arms, her mouth set in a stubborn line. "But we can't just keep up the lie, can we? I know that she was okay with it the last time, but…
"Yes, but she did say that she needed more time to trust us with the lives of her people, and this is related to that. Directly related. Caris is right. I didn't think of it before, it didn't occur to me, but if she feels she still needs time to trust us enough to say anything more about her people, revealing that we knew the entire time…" Kostia sighed, mimicking her lover's actions and shaking her head at the same time, looking stressed. "At the same time, I agree with Ontari. Letting the lie stretch out is just asking for a disaster."
"A compromise, then. If she does intend to send a message to her people, or something similar, she will likely inform you after having done so, when it is -as Aleksia Pramheda would say- a fait accompli." Caris proposed, aware that she was nowhere near fully informed about the situation, but finding it quite clear that her fellows hadn't considered this situation as broadly as they ought to have. "So, we wait until she does whatever it is she intends to do tonight, and see what she says and does over the next day or so."
There was a current of soft murmurs of consideration, then acceptance, and Caris felt an infinitesimal uptick at the corners of her mouth. Her words, her advice, had been considered and accepted, genuinely, in accordance with it's own value. Which meant that she was valued and worth listening to, a thought that both pleased and reassured her.
The door to the room opened quietly, a servant slipping in near-silently to whisper softly in Leksa's ear, and she felt herself tilting her head unconsciously in curiosity at the confused furrow that creased her newly-acquired sister's brow at whatever it was that the servant was telling her.
"Kostia," Leksa asked slowly, nodding in thanks to the messenger and waving him away almost absently, her focus on her thoughts and her lover. "I know you're somewhat familiar with The Wanderer, yes?"
"Kassandra?" Kostia blinked, clearly surprised by the apparent and abrupt shift of topic to something entirely unrelated. "Fairly familiar, yes. She's helped me on missions a few times, and I've sought her advice on occasion. She's in the city right now, I think, and has been more than usual, but since it's a Conclave I didn't think anything of it. Why do you ask?"
"She was seen strolling in the gardens not too long ago, and the staff thought it unusual enough to bring to my attention. I don't suppose you invited her here tonight?" Leksa explained, and Kostia was shaking her head before Heda even finished speaking.
"No, of course not, I wouldn't invite someone to the palace without speaking to you first, certainly not in a non-emergency circumstance like this. I'll admit I was considering asking her to help train Klark, they've seemed friendly enough when they've run into each other in the Military Quarter, and Maker knows that Kassandra is a damn fine fighter, but it was nothing more than a vague consideration yet." she denied, her own brow furrowing in consternation. "And why would she be in the gardens? She's never struck me as particularly interested in something like that, and I doubt she's doing it looking for a lover. There might be a few options, but compared to down in the city…? No, it as to be something else."
"I wonder…" Leksa mused, before a soft sound, a sound Caris could only describe as itself, a 'beep', echoed through the room, and Leksa shot upright in her seat as one hand flew to press against the right side of her head, eyes wide as she seemed to read something no one else could see.
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Leksa stared, bewildered, horrified, excited, and more all at once at the words that her 'Focus' was displaying to her, stark in their simplicity and clearly legible, no matter how much she wished they were otherwise.
ALERT: Perimiter Breach Detected.
ALERT: System Access Detected.
ALERT: Physical Access Detected.
Physical Access Point: 38.9821° N, 76.4839° W
Access Ident: 1975.2049.AAG.MAUSOLEUMMAINACCESS.
User ID: Clarke Griffon
KINGMAKER CONTINGENCY CONFIRMED.
Annapolis Vault Active.
SYSTEMS: GREEN
MAT-TRANS SYSTEMS: Active
Command ID: Kassandra
Confirmation: Ikaros
Transportation ACTIVE
Destination: 43.6273° N, 75.4113° W
O U R S W O R D I S Y O U R S
She shot to her feet, ignoring the surprised cries and calls of her companions as she snatched her sword from where it lay beside her chair and dashing from the room, rushing through the halls with desperate speed, crashing through doors and tearing a certain, plainly marked tapestry -one she would normally treat with the reverence she felt it was due- entirely from it's hangings.
She skidded to a halt, then, as she saw what she had feared: the door to Aleksia Pramheda's tomb was open, white-blue light spilling from it's mouth, foot-and-paw prints marking the dirt of the garden around her…and marking the entrance of the tomb.
Heart in her throat, she moved forward, barely conscious of her sisters and lover around her as she descended the stairs within, and she felt like crying as she saw that they were too late, for the room at the very bottom was empty, with only a bright, faintly humming disk of light in the middle of the space to cause a sound.
Clarke was gone, and she had no idea where.