The most noticeable thing about arriving at Polis is the sudden cessation of noise. The rustling leaves and small noises of bugs and animals gives way to a deliberate silence, as if every person in the city is holding their breath. Clarke thinks that may actually be the case. Someone must have heard their arrival and run on ahead to the city – that's the only explanation for the reception that awaits them. Everyone they see is perfectly quiet, foreheads pressed nearly to the ground. They sneak quick, disbelieving glances up at Lexa, but lower their heads after only a second, as if afraid to be caught staring.
It unnerves the horses, making them grow restive. It unnerves their riders as well, but they hide it better as they ride towards the tower.
It's a small child who starts it, probably only three or four, too young to fully understand the awed silence. "Heda," she burbles when she sees Lexa, pulling her head up from the ground. Her father, horrified, attempts to silence her, but stops when Lexa inclines her head solemnly towards the little girl. "Nontu, chek Heda au! Heda!"
The chant is picked up by the crowd. There's the occasional cry of Wanheda or de Newanen as well, but they're greatly overwhelmed by the crowd calling out for their leader by her best-known title. Polis is Lexa's home, after all, and she's spent years there compared to the few days Clarke was in occupancy. Her arrival is interesting to them, but Lexa's survival is wondrous, impossible. They have their Heda back. Their world was picked up and shaken but now it has, amazingly and unexpectedly, righted itself. "Heda! Heda! Heda!"
The guards beat their spears against the ground in time with the cries. Lexa only raises her good arm slowly in greeting, then lowers it and continues to ride, face proudly set and chin tilted. The cries intensify.
And then they're in front of the tower. Aden stands at the head of the rest of the Natblida. As one, they kneel and then bow to the ground as well. Lexa smiles for the first time since they entered and calls out, "Natblida Aden!"
The chanting softens, going to whispers and then to that expectant silence again, but this time their heads are raised instead of facing to the ground. Aden stands up and takes several steps forward. "Heda," he says, bowing his head for a moment once more. "I give you greeting. You have been greatly missed."
"You have managed Polis well in my absence," Lexa says. Her voice travels across the sea of faces.
"Mochof, Heda."
Lexa nods regally. "Let us speak inside," she commands. Then she turns the horse for one brief moment, raises her arm again and calls out, "Kos Kongeda!"
"KOS KONGEDA!" the cheer echoes around the city. Clarke is almost surprised she isn't pushed off the horse by the force of it. But instead Lexa helps her down and in seconds they are inside.
"I will doubtless have to say more to them later," Lexa comments quietly. "But that should do for now."
"I see no reason to explain anything to them," Anya says. "Let them make their own stories of what happened."
"For much of it, I will," Lexa replies calmly. "But I must assure them that Nia is dead. I must also tell them that Titus is dead. And I need to confirm Clarke's position, Roan's position, Zion's position – even my own position, in case some wonder if Aden will still command Polis even without the Flame. I will tell them how the world is now, but there is no reason to repeat all the details of how it came to be that way. What do you think, Clarke?"
Clarke nods. "That sounds good to me," she says. "I don't want to outright crush this new belief that's sprung up – if they want to believe you're immortal, that's fine by me – but I don't want to encourage it by lying either. The less said, the better."
They're followed in by the Natblida, and inside there are the rest of the ambassadors besides Wells, so that in the crush it takes Clarke a moment to see Indra, Lincoln and Octavia towards the back. Clarke can't do more than give them a grin though because all of the official greetings and discussions seem to begin at once. She doesn't even try and pull away until the questions and comments begin to become repetitive, and even then she gives Lexa a questioning look and receives a hand-squeeze before she allows herself to sidle into a nearby room.
Raven follows her. "They're really not any good at brief discussion, are they?"
"We're from the Ark," Clarke points out. "The Council wouldn't even have managed roll call for one of their meetings by now."
"Very likely. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate politics?" Raven says. "It's full of equivocating and arguing about nothing. Why would anyone ever want -" she breaks off. "But I'm sure you'll love it!"
"Thanks," Clarke replies dryly.
Anya and Lincoln appear in the room at the same time, and Raven darts forward to hug Lincoln tightly. "Hey, big guy," she says, voice muffled against him. "Long time no see. Where's O? Still fighting her way through the crowd?"
"She is following her duty as a good Seken and remaining by her Fos, until she can request to leave Indra's side," Lincoln says. His face is grave – even more than usual – and he detaches from Raven's embrace. "I must speak with you, Raven kom Skaikru."
"What about?" Raven says, moving to lean against Anya. However, Anya glowers down at her and also pulls back slightly, though she doesn't move away completely. Raven looks at her in confusion.
"You deceived me about the meaning of the Skaikru term 'open relationship'," Lincoln says, voice uncharacteristically harsh.
Raven's grin wilts under the combined hard stare from the two Trikru. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry, it was just a joke."
"Bellamy kom Skaikru drew a blade on him when he heard Linkon speak of this thing," Anya says coldly. "Raven, do you know what you have done? A citizen of Polis, a lowly ticha, drew a blade on a gona. This is a thing not allowed."
"Not allowed?" Raven blinks. "Is he – is he okay?"
"Oh, no," Clarke whispers. "No, you can't be serious."
"We must fight to the death," Linkon says, voice flat. "He has shamed me as a warrior and our people do not accept that. Honour demands a fight. That, or a quick execution. And how will your people react? Will the alliance withstand it?"
"No, they won't," Clarke says. "No... I can't believe it. Raven, how could you?"
By now all of the colour has drained out of Raven's face, leaving her pale and horrified. "I – I didn't mean to... I didn't think..." She swallows hard and says, "Is there – I mean, if I apologise officially or something -?"
The note of futile hope in Raven's voice proves to be too much for Clarke's composure. She can't help it.
She cracks up.
Anya starts snickering a second later, and even Lincoln manages a little smile.
The colour floods back into Raven's face. "Oh, you jerks. You complete asses. That wasn't funny at all! Too far! Much too far!"
"I'm sorry," Clarke manages to get out, unable to stop laughing. "I couldn't resist going along with it. Oh my god, your face."
Lincoln crosses his arms, still smiling. "Do not ever try and trick me again," he tells Raven. "Or I will pay you back in kind."
"Blood must have blood," Anya says wickedly.
"Honour demands it," Clarke quotes, trying in vain to keep her face straight. "He has shamed me as a warrior!" She can't help but crack up again at the look of outrage on Raven's face.
"I hate you all," Raven says darkly.
"Did you actually say that in front of Bellamy? The thing about the open relationships, whatever it was?" Clarke asks.
"Sha," Lincoln says placidly. "He tried to punch me."
"Ow," Clarke winces. "Is he all right?"
"I would not harm him," Lincoln says. "He is Octavia's brother."
"Yes, but is he all right?"
"Octavia blackened one of his eyes," Lincoln admits. "But I am confident they will be on speaking terms again soon."
"Clarke! Raven!" Octavia enters as if summoned, grinning broadly. "You're alive!" She hugs Clarke fiercely and Clarke can feel the taut muscles in her body, muscles that didn't use to be there. Then she embraces Raven the same way. "I mean, Lincoln said you were, but from his stories I was expecting you to be much more banged up."
"I have your arm candy to thank for my survival," Raven says. "Well, maybe. I'm still working on a chart to figure out who owes who."
"I am so glad you're both okay," Octavia says, letting go of Raven as well. "I mean, I kept picturing you guys in a dungeon somewhere being tortured." She reaches up and touches the scars on her face before realising what she's doing. She lowers her hand and flushes slightly.
Clarke feels her heart lurch. "I'm sorry about those, about the Mountain," she says softly. It's the first time she's really seen Octavia since then, she realises. "And about how much danger you went through by going north. About all of it."
"Don't be," Octavia says roughly, and something hard and challenging enters her voice, reminding Clarke of another Octavia, one who stared at her with fury in her eyes. "It wasn't your choice, it was mine. You can't take all the credit for my awesome battle scars. It was your plan, sure, but we beat them. As a team. All of them. That's worth a few scars."
"Sha," Lincoln says, reaching out and putting his arm around her. Clarke can see a brief flash of discomfort on his face as the motion stretches the still-healing wounds on his back. "It is."
"Clarke kom Skaikru?" Gustus enters. "You must see the ambassadors. It is time."
"Time for what?" Raven asks.
Anya blinks and straightens, moving away from Raven. "Of course. They were not present for the original ceremony proclaiming you Heda's second-in-command. It will be necessary to do another small one to make it clear now that you are meeting them for the first time."
Clarke searches her memory. Is it the first time she's met them? It must be. She was only in Polis for a few nights after they first got here, and then an even briefer stay on the way north to find the fallen stations.
She realises with a faint sense of surprise how very long it's been since saw Bellamy, and how little she's missed him. Once upon a time she thought she couldn't manage without him, but now she wonders how much of what she saw in him was transference of her sisterly love for Wells, or was just from the relief of having someone else share the blame for the horrible decisions they were making. The horrible decisions she was making. When Clarke sees him again, she thinks maybe she'll just see Octavia's brother, a troubled and hot-tempered screw-up who is nevertheless a damn good teacher, instead of seeing who he used to be to her. It's been months since then, after all.
It's been months since she slept in Lexa's room here, as well. Their room. Strangely, it doesn't matter how long she's been away, every part of her body still thrums with the feeling of home. This is where she first realised she loved Lexa. On the one hand, this is where Lexa died, but on the other, it's where Clarke went up to the roof and got a second chance with her. It's the first place she really kissed Lexa properly, the first place they made love, the first place she slept beside Lexa and woke up beside her and knew she never wanted to leave. So many of the best and worst parts of Clarke's life have taken place here, in the candlelit opulence of the Commander's tower, but when she thinks about falling asleep tonight beside Lexa, the worst bits seem hazy.
"Okay," Clarke says, smiling briefly at the others. "I guess I'll go get officially made second-in-command, then. Again."
"Won't getting hitched make you equal?" Raven wonders, looking at Clarke. Octavia inhales sharply and Clarke realises it's probably her first time hearing about this.
"No," Clarke said. "Just like my Dad marrying my Mom didn't make him a doctor or a council member. It doesn't work like that. I don't have the Flame, I'm not Heda."
"But you are Wanheda," Gustus says. "You are the Destroyer of the Mountain and the Defeater of the Azgeda. You are Heda's chosen houmon. Your personal relationship may not make your position equal to hers in the alliance, but the ambassadors will not dare treat you as her lesser. They will show respect."
"Good," Wanheda says. "They better."