Chapter Text
Raven normally wasn’t nervous floating through the emptiness of space. For starters she was always tethered and she trusted the safety equipment; though that was mostly because she was the one that had designed it. She also enjoyed the weightlessness, the silence and the isolation. Or at least until the radio spike in her ear and she needed to check in with Sinclair.
But all of that was thrown out the metaphorical window in that very moment for she was under more pressure than she had felt ever.
The Ark was going down to the ground. There was no changing that fact. The decision had been made and preparations were well underway. Raven frowned in concentration as she slowly tightened the bolts on the access panel she had put back into place, the systems beneath it tested and within spec. She looked back at the long spindly arm of antenna sensors she had been scaling, the panels she had accessed, tested and closed more important than most would ever understand.
She only had a few more to go before she was done but she wouldn’t rush it. They’d have one shot and if any one of the sensors went down on their reentry she didn’t think she could live with herself, mostly because the chance they’d crash into the earth and explode would increase tenfold.
“Raven,” Sinclair’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“Go for Raven,” she said.
“How’s it all looking out there?” he asked.
Raven turned slowly, one hand holding onto a rung, the other carefully pushing off the metal plating to turn her back to face the airlock.
“Just a few more to go,” Raven said as she squinted at the small window and the shape she assumed to be Sinclair watching her.
“We’re actually running ahead of schedule,” Sinclair said. “We won’t need you back in for another thirty,” Sinclair’s small figure lifted a hand and Raven assumed he gave her a thumbs up.
“Sounds good,” Raven said before the radio clicked off.
And Raven sighed, she turned back to the antenna and she took a moment to pause and to really take in what Sinclair had said. Normally space walks were monitors down to the second - oxygen had always been the most protected resource they had on the Ark but it was running out. And that fact was the catalyst for why they were throwing one last Hail Mary and sending the Ark down to the surface.
So of course Raven knew her time space walking would come to an end but there was something final, heavy and real hearing Sinclair’s voice. She knew he was giving her the time to enjoy space one last time and that fact brought with it a little more emotion then she expected. Raven blinked quickly in the hopes that she’d control the tears and once she got her emotions in check she shook her head and refocused.
It only took her a few more minutes to access the remaining panels and test them before she was tightening the last bolt and tucking her tools back into their bag. Raven looked at her watch to find she still had ten minutes left, she looked back at the airlock to find it voice of Sinclair or anyone else waiting to reel her back in. She knew there were other space walkers dotted around the Ark, each one running final checks on their section of the station and Raven knew they’d radio for assistance if they needed it.
So maybe it was a little selfish that Raven simply hooked her tool bag onto her tether before she gave it a careful and firm tug. Satisfied that it was as secure as it always had been Raven let go of the rung and pushed off with her hands and she smiled.
Weightless took her away from the Ark and it seemed like she was moving in slow motion as she moved further and further away. Raven let the smile spread across her lips more freely than it had for quite some time and she let her emotions grow a little more firm.
She braced herself just a bit as the tether reached its maximum and jolted her slightly. But that was expected and she found herself realising that that itself, would be the last time she’d feel it.
Raven laughed. She didn’t mean to and she didn’t really know what spurred it on. She thought it the emotions, she hoped it simply because she wouldn’t let herself cry in her spacesuit for all the reasons she shouldn’t. But Raven didn’t care to really analyse it in that moment. There’d be time to miss the feelings, there’d be time to long for the weightlessness of space and there’d be time to dream of it again once they were on the Earth.
But for now Raven was free.
She even smiled and laughed and waved a little more childishly as, from the corner of her eye, she saw another tether pulled taut as it kept its own space walker from floating off into the nether.
And maybe for a moment Raven didn’t feel so childish, didn’t feel so selfish and alone as she held onto something she knew she’d never get to experience ever again.
Raven walked down the halls of the Ark. Any of the outer sections had already been abandoned, anything remotely valuable and not welded in place removed and stowed away in the inner most sections all in the hopes that should the Ark begin to fall to pieces on re-entry that the outer segments would take the brunt of the damage.
Raven didn’t even think there was science behind the decision. But she supposed whatever helped keep everyone’s heads calm and collected couldn’t hurt. She had a back slung over her shoulders, the weight enough to cut into her already tired body as she made the last trip to the engineering deck.
Sadness also seemed to have become a constant companion for her over the last few hours. She had spent her entire adult life keeping the Ark’s systems from falling apart, she had spent hours fixing things that had been broken from age or misuse or any number of things that had gone wrong over the last hundred years. So seeing it being taken apart almost broke her.
But she felt something close to bittersweet happiness too. The Ark was giving its life for everyone to have a fighting chance and she could respect that. Perhaps the fact that the Ark had made it this far was testament enough to the blood, sweat and tears that she and every other mechanic and engineer had shed.
People moved back and forth through the corridors, too. Some with arms full of supplies, others helping to move or carry things, some running from station to station. Their was a frantic energy in the air, it spiked at times, lulled at others and Raven couldn’t blame anyone.
She trusted that they’d made all the necessary modifications, she trusted that they had done everything they could. It was up to chance, now, she thought.
Raven didn’t realise she had made it all the way to engineering until the doors opened with a subtle hiss to reveal a normally bustling engineering bay that was now almost empty.
In contrast to the corridors of the Ark, main engineering hardly had anyone in it anymore. Most were probably making final inspections of the designated safe areas inside the Ark that people would gather. Most of the equipment that could be used had also been removed. Spaces where consoles used to be lay empty, sockets and loose wires the only thing to indicate a missing presence.
Raven felt her emotions threaten to well up again at the sight and she leant against the nearest bulkhead. The cool metal helped soothe her emotions, at least enough that she didn’t openly cry. But it was hard. Harder than she had expected.
There was really no going back and she found herself feeling the loss as if the Ark had been a loved one she had helped nurture throughout their lives.
“It’s so quiet,” Sinclair’s voice said quietly beside her.
Raven hummed a response and she turned to find him looking out over main engineering with his own sad smile.
“I never thought this day would come,” Raven said. “The Ark’s always been here for us.”
Sinclair smiled and Raven could see him trying to come up with something light to say. But instead he simply shook his head and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.
“She’s taken good care of us,” Sinclair said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Hey, now,” Raven nudged his shoulder with her fist. “No crying. If the Chief Engineer cries then that means we’re all doomed.”
Sinclair choked back a small laugh before shaking his head.
“Ok,” he said.
Raven watched him take in a deep breath and she bit her own lip to stop it trembling.
“Was there something you needed down here?” he asked eventually.
Raven just shook her head and found herself staring at a conduit that had once been a thorn in her side.
“No,” Raven said. “Just saying goodbye,” she looked back at him in time to see his head nod in understanding.
“Take your time,” Sinclair said, “I’m heading up to the CIC— apparently I’m needed up there.”
And with that Sinclair turned and began walking away but before he could get too far Raven called out to him.
“Hey, Sinclair,” she said and she waited until he paused and turned to look back at her. “Thanks for the extra space time.”
Sinclair just smiled at her and shrugged.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a knowing nod of his head.
Lexa sat at the head of her mighty dining table. Her hands resting against the weathered wood as she looked from warrior to warrior who sat before her. Only Trikru and Azgeda were present. That wasn’t a surprise. Most clans wouldn’t arrive for another day or two, and sometimes Lexa preferred it that way, and sometimes it grated simply because it meant the other clans would grow jealous, and at times Azgeda would grow a little too bold for her liking.
But for the time being she had kept the peace through cunning. Guile. Violence and at times threats.
Queen Nia sat opposite her, the woman’s head cocked to the side as she read the trade request from Sangedakru.
“I see the summer was not as kind to them as they would have many believe,” Nia said eventually.
Lexa didn’t respond immediately, she was more than happy to let Nia come to her own conclusions before she needed to sway her one way or another. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn’t but for the time being Lexa was content to sit and wait.
It most definitely didn’t hurt that Clarke sat next to Nia, her gaze drifting off from something hanging on the wall to something adorning the dining table or even to one of the guards that stood around them. Lexa fought the slight twitch of her lips as she watched Clarke’s interest continue to wane before she took pity on her.
Lexa stood, she felt Clarke’s attention snap to her and follow her movements as she walked over to the map that hung from the near wall. Lexa stared at it for a long moment before she pointed to the Sangedakru capital.
“They wish for more resources,” Lexa said.
Nia put the scroll down and looked at her.
“And they wish for Azgeda to blunt their poor resource management,” Nia said. There was a hint of derision in her tone.
“Yes,” Lexa said with a simple nod.
Truthfully she didn’t blame Nia for feeling the way she did. Sangedakru had grown used to being saved from poor management since the Mountain’s fall— all under the assumption that Lexa would bend over backwards to keep the Coalition together.
“A vast number of their traded supplies do not last the journey across the dry plains to their people,” Lexa continued, she drew a tired finger across the map and over the dry plains that connected Sangedakru and the Azgeda great lakes.
It wasn’t lost on Lexa that the journey was difficult. It had taken her years of careful planning to ensure that Sangedakru became almost reliant on resources not accessible to them without Azgeda’s approval. In part to punish the desert clan and its former Heda who had almost thrown the coalition into Chaos. Part of her found it more than distasteful that part of his legacy still bled her to this very day. But everyone must sacrifice if the Coalition was to survive.
“Their warriors are fierce,” Clarke’s voice said into the quiet.
Lexa turned to find Clarke leaning over the table enough that she could read the treaty laying in front of Nia.
“They are used to suffering and surviving off the lands,” Clarke added. “You think they can afford this discomfort for another season?”
“Just as Azgeda can thrive in the frozen plains and tundra, so too can Sangedakru survive the dry plains and desert fields,” Lexa said.
“And yet?” it was Nia’s turn to speak and Lexa saw the narrowing of her eyes slightly.
“We will negotiate an increase in Azgeda supplies to them,” Lexa said simply. “Enough to offset the amount lost during transport.”
“We will?” Nia’s lips twitched down into something close to a sneer but she was careful not to let it take hold too clearly upon her face.
“Was it not their idea to form closer relations with Azgeda?” Lexa challenged. And it had been Sangedakru’s idea. Mostly. It just had a little whispered nudge here or there.
“They believed our land’s similarities would equate to wealthy trade,” Clarke added, and Lexa looked at her to find a slight sparkle in her eyes.
“Fools,” Nia said with a laugh as she seemed so slowly see where Lexa was leading them.
“They will be humble in asking for more,” Lexa said. “And you will be right to ask for more from others in the Coalition,” Lexa continued.
And she knew the problem not solved. No problem would ever be solved. But for now Azgeda and Sangedakru would grow closer through trade, Sangedakru more reliant than ever on the only clan similar to them, and for Azgeda, they would become more reliant on the rest of the Coalition.
And for the moment, Lexa hoped, that it would ensure the peace would last. At least until the next round of trade negotiations.
Lexa looked out her balcony window. The late afternoon sun shone down upon Polis City far below. Lexa always marvelled at the city in the rising and setting sunlight. It looked aglow, washed with an orange mist that almost seemed like the eternal flame itself was casting its light upon everything it saw.
There was a gentle breeze that danced against her face. For the moment she could enjoy it. For the moment she could embrace the fact that things were calm and not so full of shouted insult. The first meeting with Nia had gone better than she had hoped and—
“I have missed this,” Clarke said quietly as she sidled up next to her.
Lexa felt the corners of her lips turn at into a small smile as she turned to face Clarke who stepped out from her washroom, the feint smudges of white paint missed during its removal gracing her hairline.
“The view,” Clarke added quietly once she came to rest against her, shoulder to shoulder.
“Is that all?” Lexa asked.
“Perhaps,” Clarke said with a wry smile.
“You impressed me today, Clarke,” Lexa said.
“Oh?” and Clare leant her cheek against her shoulder and pressed a little more closely into her side.
“You listen well, you learn from Nia and—”
“—And talks of trade, negotiations, treaties—” Clarke made a disgusted sound that was half jovial, half so very honest. “I do not enjoy.”
Lexa didn’t respond immediately. She was content to let Clarke’s presence speak for itself for the time being. She even found herself weaving her fingers between Clarke’s and squeezing her hand only to apologise as Clarke winced at the pressure.
“A skirmish,” Clare said in explanation. “I was victorious,” she added.
Lexa looked down at her knuckles to find them slightly bruised, reddened, perhaps the remnants of a healing wound still visible. She didn’t push the subject more, there was no point. Wounds, some superficial, others more serious, were a constant on the ground, even if the Mountain no longer existed to cause destruction.
“I am glad you were victorious, Clarke,” Lexa said as she lifted Clarke’s hands to her lips carefully before she placed a kiss on her knuckles.
Both women fell silent then as they looked out over the city. Lexa could see the Azgeda encampment already being set up on one of the many large training grounds. Soon the city would be buzzing with activity throughout the night but for now she was happy, she was content to live in the moment.
She wouldn’t be able to have many more alone with Clarke. Not while negotiations were aplenty.
“How was Prince Roan?” Lexa asked eventually.
“Do you often think of Prince Roan when I am with you?” Clarke said, her tone light.
“Yes,” Lexa said before she quickly ducked the fist Clarke threw at her.
Clarke didn’t chase her though, instead she turned her back to the city and lent against the high railing. Lexa let the silence linger once more as she returned to her spot beside Clarke, though she continued to look out at the city as if the answers to whatever thoughts she had could be found amongst the winding streets below.
“Prince Roan enjoys putting aside his duties to the clan while he can,” Clarke said. And this time her tone was quieter, more serious.
“And the Mountain?” Lexa asked just as quietly.
Clarke didn’t answer straight away and that was answer enough for Lexa.
“Queen Nia does not approve,” Clarke said simply.
“Clarke,” Lexa said, and pushed into her space just enough that Clarke needed to look at her.
“I will not urge my Queen to do something she chooses not to,” Clarke said and she faced her and didn’t back down from the invasion of her space.
Lexa searched Clarke’s face, she looked into her eyes but all she saw was confidence, surety and and defiance. And Lexa knew not to push. or she didn’t want to push. Not when she wouldn’t have much more time alone with Clarke.
And so Lexa stepped back just enough that she felt Clarke relax, too.
“I—” Clarke paused for a brief moment before she turned and wrapped her arms around her. “I am sorry,” she said, her breath cold as it brushed against Lexa’s neck.
Lexa didn’t feel the need to respond other than to let Clarke’s touch settle against her body.
“There will be time for arguments, Clarke,” Lexa said, her tone back to the lightness of moments before.
“Ones in which I will emerge victorious,” Clarke answered her.
Lexa did let out a small laugh at Clarke’s answer.
“Perh—”
But whatever Lexa was going to say was killed in her throat as an almighty roar exploded around them.
Lexa jumped, Clarke instinctively ducked and grabbed Lexa to pull her down into safety as skyfire seemed to descend upon them, and Lexa’s heart spiked, her adrenaline surged, her mind began to race, spin, try to understand, try to make sense, try to see, to prepare to understand how the Mountain’s return could even be—
And she saw it.
Great balls of fire exploded in the sky high above Polis. Streaks of fire crashed through the clouds and split off into smaller streaks and Lexa stared.
Lexa stared as something enormous, something indescribable, something she could never even begin to imagine came crashing down from the heavens.