Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her paws skimmed over the spongy leaf litter of the forest floor, impacting the ground merely long enough to propel herself forward again. The cool winds of autumn rushed over her muzzle and down her lithe back, ruffling her fur with its passage. Dappled sunlight played over her russet pelt, revealing hints of copper and highlighting the onyx face markings and stripe down her back. The steady beat of her heart blended with the rhythm of her paws hitting earth, thump-thump thump-thump. She reveled in the easy stretch of muscles and tendons as she ran. She always felt the most at peace when she was running. A sound caught the edge of her hearing and she swiveled an ear in its direction. Focusing, she made out the rustle of some small mammal in the underbrush.

Mmm, I could go for a snack, she mused, her Sister Wolf rumbling in approval at the idea of fresh meat.

Pivoting smoothly, she angled in the direction of the rustling. She slowed her pace to a silent glide, fixating her senses on her target. She picked out the scent of a rabbit in the midst of a patch of wild strawberries. She could see it clearly only a few feet in front of her. Crouching low, she prepared to pounce when the wind changed and brought with it a new scent, musk and mint with an undertone of crushed pine needles.

Lexa whipped her head up, startling the rabbit into flight, and let her jaw drop slightly in a lupine smile. She sensed Sister Wolf’s disappointment at the loss of a meal, but paid her no mind. She resumed her stealthy glide towards her new target. Staying downwind of her prey to avoid alerting it to her presence, she stalked closer. She kept low to the ground and waited for the tell-tale sound of paws padding against soft ground to reach the right spot for her ambush.

Reeeeaaddyyy, riiight about...now! She sprang out from her hiding place to land on top of a black and tan body that yelped in surprise. The other wolf attempted to spin around and snap at her, but Lexa was too quick. She had already darted out of reach before the other wolf could even finish turning. The wolf let out an aggressive snarl, lips pulled back in clear warning, but Lexa only cocked her head to the side and grinned. Anya rolled her eyes in exasperation at her sister’s antics and Lexa lolled out her tongue in a wolfish laugh. Anya had been their father’s first child. She wasn’t a born werewolf like Lexa; she had been Changed by her father once she turned eighteen. She walked forward to rub muzzles with her older sister. Anya nipped at her nose but Lexa was prepared and ducked out of the way just in time. Her sister’s wolf might be larger and more muscled, but Lexa had always been faster. She bumped her with her shoulder and took off running. Anya let out a huff of annoyance before sprinting to catch up with her.

The two wolves ran side-by-side through the Montana forests, enjoying the freedom of letting loose for once. Stopping to drink from a small stream, Lexa caught a glimpse of her reflection and Sister Wolf preened with unabashed vanity. She knew her wolf form was stunning, glossy russet fur with black accents on all four paws to match the stripe down her back and her “warpaint” as she liked to think of it: thick streaks of black surrounding each eye and dripping down in three curved stripes on each side of her face. Though her wolf lacked the range of color vision to pick out the hue, she knew her eyes gleamed an unusual emerald green. Her sister’s wolf had the amber eyes more typical of her kind. She appraised her sister, settling back on her haunches to wait for her to finish lapping water. Anya’s coat was a mottled black and tan, her fur thicker than Lexa’s. She stood just under three feet tall at the shoulders and was sleek with muscle. Similar to Lexa--and werewolves in general--her shoulders were bulkier than a normal wolf’s. They were built more like a bear’s and would enable the wolf to climb and have a wider range of motion with her front legs, which came in handy in a fight.

Anya caught her looking and used her paw to splash water onto Lexa’s face. She let out a tiny yelp (not that she would ever admit to making a sound) and pawed at her face to wipe away the water. She yipped to Anya and wheeled around to begin loping back home.

The return journey was uneventful and the sisters savored the rare quiet before having to resume the responsibilities of leadership. They padded up a set of stairs to a huge wooden deck behind a sprawling three-story wood cabin. Lexa nudged open the glass back door--they never locked the door here, it’s not like a werewolf needs to fear a break-in--and entered into a spacious living room decorated with black leather couches and comfy armchairs. She waited for Anya to walk in behind her and begin to shift before initiating her own transformation. Thanks to her mother’s Trikru shaman heritage, Lexa was able to effortlessly transition from wolf to woman within a minute or so. The change still hurt, but much less than it should. Clothing flowed across her skin as her innate magic conjured an olive green sleeveless shirt, torn black skinny jeans and black motorcycle boots. She cocked a hip against the back of a couch and examined her nails while waiting for Anya. Wolfish grumbles turned to more human muttering amidst the sound of crunching bone and tearing skin. She didn’t envy the much more painful shifting of normal werewolves. Being born a wolf definitely had its advantages. It took Anya about fifteen minutes to finish her shifting, evidence of her dominance as it took most wolves closer to twenty or thirty minutes to shift.

“Show off,” Anya grumbled, earning a small smirk from her sister, just a brief upturn of her lips to one side. Lexa was not one for showing emotion; it was too close to weakness in her position.

“It has been a while since I have been able to get the drop on you, Anya. Perhaps you are getting slow in your old age,” replied Lexa dryly, lifting an eyebrow.

“Bullshit! Old age, my ass! You’re less than a century younger than me. I was distracted, that’s all.”

“Excuses, excuses. You can not fool me, Anya, you are getting rusty.”

Lexa tensed as Anya rushed her, then catapulted herself over the couch she had been leaning against to land neatly on her feet on the other side.

“Ugh, you’re too damn fast, Lexa. It’s not fair,” her sister griped as she flopped onto a couch, aborting her attempt to tackle Lexa.

Lexa ambled to the couch her sister was lounging on and curled up beside her, tucking one leg under herself and settling back against the armrest. Her run had been enough to leave her pleasantly tired and ready to relax. She leaned over to the side-table and snagged a paperback she had left there earlier. She flipped to her bookmark and began reading.

Not even ten minutes passed before their peace was shredded by the sound of an explosion coming from down the road.

“Can I get a fucking break?! When I find whoever’s responsible, they’ll be breathing out their own asshole for a month!” Anya threw up her hands in frustration before rolling to her feet and heading to the front door.

“How would that even work, An?” Lexa gracefully rose from her comfortable position on the couch and cracked her neck as she followed her sister outside.

“Simple. I take their fucking head and shove it so far up their fucking ass that it takes a whole god-damn month to get it back out,” retorted Anya.

Silently chuckling as Anya continued to rant, Lexa strode down the gravel road to a metal-walled barn that had thick black smoke billowing out through a hole in the roof.

“I do not recall you having a skylight, Raven,” she called into the open doorway of the barn.

A stream of coughing and multilingual swearing answered her as a well-built, hispanic woman limped out of the smoke. Soot covered her chest, neck, and face with the exception of rings around her eyes where a pair of googles had sat. The googles now hung around the woman’s neck so she could wipe uselessly at her face with an oily rag. Her hair had been in a messy ponytail, but strands now stuck to sweaty temples and forehead. Bare arms glistened with sweat and machine grease in the evening light. She wore a light grey henley with rolled up sleeves and dark grey trousers with worn black combat boots. A creaky metal contraption encompassed her left leg from mid-thigh to mid-calf, explaining the limp in her step. Her scent wafted past Lexa, underneath the stench of burning plastic and chemicals she smelled of copper and bergamot with a sharp tang of metal and Fae.

“Well, shit, Lex! You’re right, the hole’s new. I decided I needed better lighting in my workshop,” Raven Reyes played it off with a grin and a shrug before winking at Anya, “Oh and Cheekbones, I love the new look.”

Anya glanced down at herself to realize she had not, in fact, put any clothes on after shifting. She looked back up to meet Raven’s smirk with one of her own.

“See something you like, gearhead?” Anya shot back, sauntering closer to the mechanic.

“I mean, if you’re offering a show, who am I to say no?” Raven cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms in front of her chest, not caring to hide the rising scent of her arousal and the dilation of her pupils.

“Look, we have plenty of time for flirting later. Now, can you please explain why you have so drastically redecorated your roof?” Lexa questioned, “And Raven, next time you refer to me as ‘Lex’ I will revoke your unlimited budget privileges.”

That got Raven’s attention.

“Okay okay, no need to be so huffy. I just had a slight malfunction in a prototype I've been working on.”

Lexa lifted her eyebrows slightly and stared at the grungy mechanic.

“So it might have been more than a slight malfunction. I was trying to amp up the horsepower in my Camaro and then I got distracted by the potential uses of pistons in another of my prototypes,” Raven rambled on about the details of her various projects before a glare from Lexa shut her up.

“Is the area safe to be in? You will not be a danger to anyone close by? Just tell me if the fire is out and if I should expect more explosions tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all safe and the fire’s out. I just need to figure where the fuck that scrap landed when it shot out of my barn.”

“Do whatever it is you need, just promise me there will be no more unexpected fireworks for at least the next twelve hours.”

“You got it, Commander. Promise,” Raven called back over her shoulder as she wandered towards the nearest clump of trees that might hold her improvised projectile.

Lexa shook her head resignedly and turned back up the road. As she and Anya walked along the road, she glanced sidelong at her sister.

“What?”

Lexa gave her a ‘you know what’ look. Anya reached a hand up to rub the back of her neck sheepishly.

“I dunno. It’s a new thing, you know? Raven’s only been in Aspen Creek a year and it seemed like she had a shitty time of it before moving here. I stopped by a couple weeks ago so she could fix my phone and it just kinda happened,” Anya said, a slight blush creeping up her neck.

Lexa chuckled softly and let the matter drop. She was happy for her sister. Anya had gone through her own shitty times and deserved some happiness. They walked into the cabin and Anya headed up to her room to get a change of clothes. Lexa had scarcely settled down with her book when her phone rang.

My work never ends, Lexa sighed to herself and checked the caller id. ‘Gustus’ flashed across the screen. Disquiet curdled in her gut as she answered, a call from Gustus was never good news. He was the pack’s Third and responsible for most of the enforcing within pack structure. He generally only called her when something big was happening or a non-werewolf was involved.

“Sha, Gustus?”

“Heda, we need you down at the Meeting Hall. There’s been a...misunderstanding it seems between one of your wolves and a Fae halfbreed,” Gustus’ guttural voice rolled out of the speaker.

“I will be there shortly,” she paused, listening to Anya come down the stairs, “Will Anya be necessary as well?”

“I don’t believe so, Heda,” he said and hung up.

“I heard,” said Anya, going to the umbrella stand near the entryway and pulling out Lexa’s sheathed sword, “I’m more than happy to stay here and not be forced to listen to whiny half-Fae and bratty wolves.”

“Good. It seems like it will be a busy night,” Lexa easily caught her blade and scabbard as Anya tossed them.

Anya helped Lexa strap on her various weaponry and don her leather jacket. Lexa ran to her room and grabbed a small velvet box from her dresser. Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, she opened the box and pulled out a small tube of adhesive as well as a small metallic gear-like medallion. She applied a dot of adhesive between her brows and affixed the medallion to her forehead, then reached back to her dresser for the tub of charcoal-colored face paint. She meticulously daubed the paint in an exact match to her wolf’s facial markings. She rushed back downstairs and out the door.

Anya snorted from the couch she sprawled across when she saw Lexa’s efforts and muttered about overly dramatic, useless lesbian sisters. Lexa just lifted her chin and broke into a fluid run, needing the clarity of running to help center her. It took her slightly over fifteen minutes to reach the center of Aspen Creek and the Meeting Hall. Aspen Creek had been founded over 100 years ago as a haven for werewolves and other beings who didn’t fit in with the rest of society. Just about everyone who lived in town was either a werewolf, human mate of a werewolf, or half-Fae who was rejected by their full-blood parents. Lexa paused before the Hall doors and straightened her back, her emotionless Heda mask slipping into place as she stepped into the role of the Commander. She flung open the double doors and swaggered inside. The Meeting Hall was built to house the entire population of Aspen Creek for town-wide meetings and ceremonies. The large wooden building consisted of a single open room, the walls lined with rows of benches and chairs, mostly empty for now. At the back of the room was a dais on which sat a huge gnarled throne. The throne consisted of twisted branches forming a seat before continuing to fan out into an intimidating design. Lexa had built the throne herself from young saplings that she was able to weave together and dry into shape. It fit her perfectly, even allowing room to accommodate the sword attached to her hip. She was quite proud of it, really.

She strode up to her throne and sat, ignoring the floppy-haired boy growling menacingly at a bruised, weasley-looking individual on her left. Gustus stood stoically next to the throne and waited to speak until the Commander had settled. He was an absolute bear of a man, standing at least six and a half feet tall and built like a barrel. The muscles in his arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest. The sides of his head were shaved, but the top was left long and was braided intricately. He had tattoos scrolling up his neck to his face and the sides of his head. Tattoos generally don’t stick very well on werewolves, their rapid healing pushes the ink right out of their skin. Somehow he had found a way to keep them though, probably with the help of his wife, Indra.

“Your wolf, Finn Collins, has accused this halfbreed Fae, John Murphy, of selling him junk under the guise of valuable goods,” Gustus announced formally.

“He DID sell--” Finn burst out before an icy glare from Lexa cut him off abruptly.

“And what did the accused have to say about it?” asked Lexa to Gustus, completely ignoring Finn’s outburst.

She pulled a butterfly knife from a pocket and fiddled with it idly, flipping it open and closed, spinning it around her fingers. She enjoyed the intimidation factor it added to her already scary image. It was a habit she had developed young when her father, Titus, forced her to become proficient in several types of weapons. The balisong promptly became her favorite blade and she always kept at least one on her when possible.

“He insists he did no such thing. He maintains that he runs a fair and honest trade, Commander.”

Only someone who knew him well would detect the hint of humor in Gustus’ bass rumble, and Lexa knew him very well.

Lexa raised an eyebrow and focused on Murphy, inhaling subtly as she did so. She sifted through the mundane odors of hygiene products and laundry detergent. His own unique scent reminded her of green clovers and petrichor with the unmistakable tinge of Fae.

He smells like an Irish fairy, maybe a cluricaun, remarked Sister Wolf. That would explain the mischievous glint in his eyes, Lexa replied silently. As far as she knew, she was the only one who could communicate directly with her Wolf spirit. Sister Wolf and she may inhabit the same body, but they were separate souls. Other werewolf spirits are merely things of violence and instinct. They crave the hunt and the kill. Any werewolves who cannot maintain rigid control of their wolf side quickly meet a violent and bloody end, usually at Gustus’ teeth. Sister Wolf was different. She was self-aware and capable of much more than just violence and death. She had been with Lexa from birth, as much a part of her as her green eyes. The way she communicated was much more complex than words; it was a mix of images, sensations, and emotions. Sister Wolf could use words when she needed to, but it was with distaste for such a primitive method. Lexa often interpreted the communication as words though. It made it easier to catalogue and process the information.

“John Murphy, you said your name was? What exactly is your trade?” Lexa questioned.

“Commander, your graciousness, I run the pawn shop down the street. You probably know the one, The Dropship, just off main street,” Murphy answered as he gave an unctuous bow and dropped his gaze respectfully.

Every word out of Murphy’s mouth intensified the anger roiling off Finn. The hackles rose on the back of Lexa’s neck with the increasing tension. She turned to Finn and released a subvocal growl. He met her eyes and held them in challenge. Lexa let Sister Wolf shine through her eyes, lightening them from forest green to emerald. Finn’s eyes shone gold as he tried to hold her gaze, but he couldn’t hide the strain it caused him. Lexa loosened the leash on her dominance just slightly. The wave of power was nearly palpable as it flowed out from her. Finn dropped to his knees, averting his eyes and baring his neck in a show of submission. Even Gustus’ body language softened submissively at this display.

“You dare to challenge me, Heda, the Commander, leader of all the werewolves on this continent?” Lexa’s voice was deceptively calm even as her expression hardened to steel and she rose to her feet, still flipping the butterfly knife open and closed, “Control yourself, wolf, or I shall have to make you.”

She reeled her power back in, locking it down tight. Her dominance was a tool she used with the precision of a scalpel. She used exactly what was needed and not a single drop more. Most werewolves used their inherent dominance as a battering ram to beat others into submission, there was no subtlety in them, no artistry. Maybe it was just because she’s a woman. Male werewolves treated battles to establish dominance like pissing matches, comparing dick sizes like it meant something. Lexa was quite capable of demonstrations of brute strength when the situation demanded, but she was much more deliberate with her displays.

Sitting back down on her throne, she crossed her legs and motioned for Murphy to continue.

“This guy came in looking for a watch. So I showed him all the watches I had, he paid for one he liked and then left. Next thing I know, he’s breaking down my door and beating the shit out of me. He was going off about me selling him a load of bullshit and demanding back his money.”

“Were his accusations true? Was the watch truly worth what you charged him?”

“Well, I mean, what’s the real value of a watch, right? I charged him what I believed was a fair price and he chose to pay it. So yeah, I think it was a fair trade.”

Stupid boy, thinking he can talk around the truth and we wouldn’t know it, Sister Wolf purred. Lexa felt a mix of amusement and irritation at Murphy’s chutzpah. She had heard the moment his heartbeat sped up, smelled the slight sheen of nervous sweat on his temples, and seen his pupils dilate. He wasn’t telling any outright lies, but he certainly wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Sighing internally, she looked at Finn, who was still on his knees.

“I suppose you would like to defend your actions now?”

“Yes Commander.”

“Go ahead then. Tell your story,” as she spoke she sped up the motion of the butterfly knife, twirling it around her thumb and into the air before catching it again and again. Finn didn’t dare try to meet her eyes, so he stared at the knife, transfixed by the silver blur.

“Yes Commander. I went to Murphy’s pawn shop looking for a new watch as he said. He showed me one I liked that worked perfectly while in the store. I paid what Murphy asked and left. As soon as I got home, the watch stopped working. I tried replacing the battery, but when I opened it up all I saw was scrap!”

Lexa clenched her jaw briefly and narrowed her eyes. She thought she was getting the lay of things now. She pocketed her knife and steepled her fingers in front of her mouth, resting her elbows on the arms of the throne.

“John Murphy, I believe there is more to your story than what you shared. I believe you used fae magic to cast a glamour on the watch to mask its true nature. I will hold you responsible for replacing the faulty watch with an acceptable, working substitute. Finn Collins, you have disrespected your Alpha and lost control of your wolf. It is pure luck Gustus stopped you before you shed blood. You will be placed in a remedial class along with the rest of the pups who need to learn proper etiquette in the treatment of others. Leave, you are dismissed.”

Murphy bowed again before turning and walking out of the Hall. Finn bristled at Lexa’s pronouncement, but showed no other sign of resistance as he bowed his head and followed Murphy. Lexa dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples with slender fingers. Finn was a recent addition to the pack. He had pursued Raven across the country to Aspen Creek and proceeded to make a nuisance of himself when she rejected his advances. He had been a werewolf for five years, but he still lacked basic self-control. If he continued failing to manage his wolf, she would have to do something more drastic than send him to remedial classes. Murphy was a whole other matter. Aspen Creek drew many half-Fae. It was a place where they could be open about their parentage and not hide their quirks. The majority of half-Fae were powerless or nearly so. They rarely instigated problems and performed many of the major roles in the town. Murphy, it seemed, was not so benign. If she was right about him, he was part curlicaun. Curlicaun were a branch of Irish fairy related to leprechauns. They took pleasure in stealing from humans and inciting mischief. Murphy appeared to take after that side of the family. If he could use glamour, it was possible he had other abilities as well.

“Gustus, assign someone to watch Murphy,” she said without lifting her head from her hands, “I want to know everything he is capable of.”

“Sha, Heda. If I may?”

She nodded her head for him to continue.

“That was well handled, Commander. I had suspected some trickery when I could smell Fae magic in Murphy’s shop, but had no proof. I will ensure Finn attends the classes and assign Lincoln to observe Murphy.”

“I think that would be a good choice. Lincoln has a good head on him. He is observant and slow to take offense. Thank you, Gustus. You are dismissed for the night. Give my greetings to Indra. Reshop Gostos.”

“Mochof, Heda. She will be glad to hear from you.”

With that, he turned towards the door and exited. Lexa relied heavily on Gustus and not just for his intimidating size. He was one of the few living members of her mother tribe. The Trikru had all either died from plagues brought over by European colonizers or been assimilated into larger tribes. Gustus had been her mother’s cousin and was turned by the same attack that turned her mother. His mate, Indra, was also Trikru, though she wasn’t a werewolf. She shared similar shaman magic with Lexa’s mother, enabling her lifespan to rival that of the werewolves. Indra had also dedicated decades to studying European witchcraft. She found it distasteful, but she did pick up many useful techniques. European witches depended on pain and fear to fuel their magic. Black witches were known to kidnap and torture other preternatural beings so they could feed off their pain and agonizing death. White witches were far more rare and generally weaker. They relied on their own pain and so were limited in power. Indra had learned to harvest power from pain, but she avoided causing it unnecessarily. She often used the pain inherent to werewolf shifting as a power source, drawing it from a shifting wolf and storing it within crystals to use later, similar to a magical battery. She lived with Gustus in town and lent her services to the pack when needed.

Lexa reclined back in her throne and took a few deep breaths. Mediating small squabbles wasn’t a demanding task, but it still required energy, especially when a wolf decides she’s too female and weak to hold so much power. She was more than ready for a good night’s rest. Before leaving the Meeting Hall, she made sure to turn off the lights and lock the doors. There was nothing to steal inside, but she was ridiculously protective of her throne. Once outside, she began a loping run back home.

Chapter Text

Octavia loved going on patrol. She felt too stifled and confined when surrounded by buildings, even in a tiny town like Aspen Creek. She craved the feel of wind in her fur and the crisp smell of autumn leaves. The moon shone bright overhead, three-quarters full and not a cloud in sight. She lifted her muzzle towards the sky, drinking in the cool light. She loved how the entire night sky lit up with stars and how, on new moons, the Milky Way was visible. She had only been a werewolf for four years, but they were the best years of her life so far. She hadn’t grown up in the best family. Sometimes she thinks that her brother was the only one who ever actually loved her; even then, he was an almost constant suffocating presence before she was bitten. He took his protectiveness far beyond the line of acceptable and tended to just make things worse. Luckily, becoming a werewolf had done wonders for convincing him to back off. It’s hard to argue with someone who could literally rip your throat out. Less fortunately, after discovering what Octavia, he had gotten himself bitten in some plot to continue his overbearing ways.

Her eyes, so icy blue they looked white in the darkness, scanned the forest around her. The Commander had been hearing of unusual disappearances lately and decided to enlist her pack in nightly patrols. The patrols had reported mutilated wildlife and the stench of rabid animals, like spoiled meat and sickness. Octavia hadn’t found anything herself, but stayed watchful. Behind her she heard her brother matching her step for step. Patrolling alone was risky and Bellamy was a good wolf to have at your back, even if he was overly controlling. He easily held his own in a fight and the siblings fought well together. Fighting was one of the few times they were perfectly in sync.

His coat blended much better in the dark forest than hers did. He resembled a sable german shepherd, if that german shepherd had been raised on steroids. His overcoat was so dark brown it appeared black except in bright sunlight with cream colored fur trailing from his lower chest down his stomach to the bottom of his tail. His paws and limbs were tan blending into the dark brown of his back. His face had lighter brown accents near his eyes and jaw. Octavia loved to tease him about the light brown patch just under his nose. She called it his ‘mustache’ and constantly tried to convince him to grow a matching one in his human shape. Octavia’s coat, on the other hand, shone red and white in the moonlight. Her coloring was similar to a husky, her back a burgundy red that stretched up over her ears and over the top half of her face; her underside and legs were bright white.

Her ears twitched to her left as she heard a sound that didn’t match the usual nighttime forest rhythm. She veered off in that direction and slowed to a trot, sniffing the air. She caught a whiff campfire, and, more unusually, smoky bourbon and burnt molasses, not something normally found in the wide Montana wilderness. The closer she got, the stronger the scent of burning wood became. Through the trees a low, orange light flickered and illuminated the outline of something human shaped. She glanced back at Bellamy and signaled him to stealthily circle around and flank the intruder. She crept forward on noiseless paws. She was still fifty yards off when the figure, huddled by what Octavia could now see as a campfire, leapt to their feet and whirled around. Octavia burst into motion, leaping forward to tackle the figure. She pinned the body to the ground before searing pain shot up her sides. Instinctively, she lurched back and yelped in pain. At Octavia’s cry, Bellamy exploded from the woods behind, leaping over the fire and bowling over the figure trying to stand back up. He too reeled back and Octavia saw their opponent’s hands briefly flare with yellow flames across Bellamy’s chest. Octavia and Bellamy warily circled the figure, who took the opportunity to scramble to her feet. Because Octavia could now make out it was indeed a woman. Her hair was a matted mess of braids that gleamed red in the firelight. Tattered leathers and furs covered her body. Octavia could tell that they would be about the same height when she was human. Her hands still flared bright with flames and they licked up her forearms, somehow not singing her clothes. Light flickered across the girl’s face, revealing pinched cracked lips, gaunt cheeks, and piercing blue eyes. Those eyes captured Octavia’s attention and seemed to emanate age far beyond the seventeen years she appeared to be.

The red-haired stranger shouted out in some foreign tongue that Octavia couldn’t begin to understand, though it sounded vaguely European. Octavia just lowered her head and growled in response. Bellamy suddenly whipped his head up and sniffed the air. He barked a warning and turned to face the trees on their left, spreading forelimbs apart in a ready stance. His rumbling growl swept through the air. Octavia scented the air in an attempt to discern the new threat Bellamy had sensed. The odors of rotting meat and sickness flooded her nose and she sneezed at the foul stench.

Suddenly, a monstrous form charged out towards Bellamy bellowing a war-cry that shook leaves from the trees above. It slammed into Bellamy and pinned him to the ground. He snarled and bit at the twisted arms holding him down. The beast lunged for his throat but missed as Octavia leapt onto its back and latched her teeth into the back of its neck. It roared in pain and careened backwards as Octavia’s weight threw it off balance. Bellamy slipped out from under it and clawed open its belly, blood and intestines spilling out. It collapsed onto its back, Octavia springing off just in time. Bellamy tore out its throat as soon as it hit the ground. It struggled to rise, blood spraying from the gaping wound in its throat and covering Bellamy’s front. Its movement weakened and stopped as its lifeblood drained out.

The siblings warily backed away and got a good look at what had attacked them for the first time. While it was standing, it had been at least seven feet tall and almost three feet wide at the shoulders. Its deformed body was covered in coarse black fur. The head was shaped mostly like a wolf's, though the ears were too small and the muzzle too short to fit all of its fangs. Thick ropy muscles corded down its neck and back, monstrously bulging against its skin. Its hands were disproportionately large and tipped in thick ragged claws. The skin on the palms and fingers was black and rough like the pads on Octavia’s own paws. Its legs bent the wrong direction at the knees and ended in malformed paws. They stared in disgust at the creature. It looked as though someone had forced a werewolf to shift and somehow locked it in this grotesque in-between form.

The woman spoke her garbled tongue again and the siblings jumped; they had forgotten about her in the chaos. They rounded to look at her, hackles raised and ready for a fight. The stranger stood half-crouched, eyeing the wolves guardedly. Octavia could smell fear wafting off her, but her expression betrayed nothing. She looked to her brother and cocked her head a bit, asking a question. Bellamy huffed and shook his head slightly, but Octavia ignored his cautiousness and walked off into the trees to shift. Bellamy moved so he remained between the woman and his sister. They watched each other carefully, neither one relaxing a muscle for the entire fifteen minutes it took for Octavia to regain her human shape. She walked back out of the woods with her hands held up placatingly. She approached the woman slowly and talked in an easy, conversational tone.

“Uh hey there. I know you probably can’t understand me, but who the fuck are you and where the hell did you come from?”

The woman glanced at Octavia, but kept most of her attention on Bellamy’s menacing wolf. Octavia walked up to her brother and laid a hand on his ruff. He rolled one large eye in her direction and whined.

“It’s fine Bellamy. Stand down.”

He grudgingly relaxed and sank onto his haunches. The woman relaxed slightly as well, rising out of her crouch and folding her arms, the flames on her hands going out. Octavia resumed walking towards the woman and sank down to warm herself by the fire. The woman watched her but didn't make any move to approach.

“Alright, lady, I get that we’re fuckin’ scary wolves and strangers and all that jazz, but it’s waaay too cold to have my tits hanging out like this for long. So how bout this: you follow us home and we find a way to understand what the fuck you’re saying, ‘kay? Bellamy, I’m gonna need you to bring that monster corpse with us. The Commander’s going to want to know what happened.”

He looked vaguely irked at the idea of having to drag the giant corpse all the way back to town. He moved over to the body and bit into its neck, wrenching his jaws back and forth until the head was completely detached. He picked it up gingerly and faced Octavia.

“I suppose that’s good enough for now. If the Commander wants to see the rest of the body, one of us can always lead her back here. Alright, let's head out.”

With that she turned towards home and started walking with Bellamy trailing along behind. She looked over her shoulder at the woman, who still hadn’t moved, and waved her to follow. Bellamy began loping home with the head in his teeth, while Octavia waited until the woman started walking towards her. When she had reached her, Octavia broke into a jog and led the way to Aspen Creek.

-----------------------------------------------

Lexa bolted upright in bed, hands clasping either side of her ribs and breathing heavily. Pain surged down the pack bonds and it took her a few moments to sort out what she was feeling. As Alpha, she was connected to each member of her pack through pack magic. One of the benefits of this connection was that it allowed her to feel when any of her wolves was in intense pain or distress. She followed the pain down the thread to the Blake siblings. It seemed that they were engaged in some kind of battle. She walked to Anya’s room and knocked on the door before walking in.

“Lexa?” Anya asked groggily, sitting up in bed.

“Onya, something is wrong with the Blakes. They were scheduled to patrol tonight, yes?”

“Yes, did you sense anything else wrong?”

“I felt pain in my sides and chest, similar to a burn, and then claws raking across my spine. I do not believe either one is seriously injured, but we should still send someone to check on them.”

“I agree. Let me call Lincoln and Ryder and see if they’re available to go.”

“Good, notify me as soon as you receive any updates on the situation,” she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again until things were resolved, she went back to her room and walked to her closet. She picked out black zippered pants, a fitted black long sleeve shirt, knee high buckled combat boots, and a black and red-striped motorcycle jacket with kevlar padding sewn in. Most bullets wouldn’t kill her, but it never hurt to play it safe. She braided her hair out of her face, making sure everything sat in the right place. After a moment’s hesitation, she also applied her Commander symbol and warpaint. Downstairs she went to the weapons’ cabinet and selected a few daggers to wear, sheathing them in strategic places about her body. She walked into the garage and raised the garage door before straddling her sleek black and red Ducati Enduro motorcycle and revving it. She shot out of the garage and down the graveled road to Gustus’ and Indra’s.

Arriving in front of their home, she turned off her bike and walked up to the door. She knocked softly and waited. Gustus opened the door within a minute and waved Lexa inside. Nodding her head in thanks, she entered and walked into their living room.

“Heda, what brings you to our home at,” Gustus looked down at the watch on his wrist, “2:30 in the morning?”

“There has been an incident with the Blakes while they were patrolling. They were injured, but it doesn’t seem like they are in any immediate danger. Anya is arranging for wolves to go to their aid and report back as soon as possible. I need you and Indra to accompany me to the Meeting Hall while we wait for their report.”

“Sha Heda. We will be there within the next twenty minutes. Is there anything else you need from us?”

“Mochof Gostos, let Indra know she should be prepared to use her witches’ training just in case. I will meet you there soon.”

Gustus escorted Lexa to the door and she mounted her bike and set off for the Meeting Hall.

-------------------------------------------------

Lexa sat on her throne, playing with her butterfly knife. Gustus and Indra stood to either side, Indra standing in as guard while Anya helped escort the Blakes and their new guest. Lexa had received a call from Anya updating her on the situation ten or so minutes ago. The Blakes had encountered an unknown magic user, though she didn’t smell like Fae or witch, and been attacked by one of the creatures they assumed were leaving the mutilated animal carcasses in the forest. Ryder and Lincoln were helping carry its body back to the morgue for examination while the rest continued on ahead of them.

The doors to the Hall opened and Anya strode in, followed by a human Octavia, the stranger, and Bellamy leading up the rear still as a wolf. Both he and Octavia were spattered with blood, Bellamy’s fur was matted against his skull with it and his mouth was full with...was that a head? The group approached the throne and Anya climbed the steps of dais to stand next to Lexa’s throne. Bellamy released the grisly object in his jaws and licked his lips to get rid of the foul taste. Anya inclined her head in acknowledgement to Lexa before turning back to the Blakes and asking Octavia to report.

Octavia stepped forward slightly and recounted their experience for Lexa. Lexa had to admit, she was a little too distracted by the mysterious stranger. She was intrigued by her and, without meaning to, examined every inch of her. In this lighting, it was clear this woman had not eaten a good meal in a very long time. Her face was haggard and guarded. Despite her youthful appearance, she had an air of experience and vigilance Lexa had only seen in old wolves. She desperately needed a long soak and sturdy hairbrush, yet her scruffiness couldn’t mask her allure. She carried herself with confidence and power, reminding Lexa of a Viking warrior with her furs and braids and striking blue eyes.

Mine, Sister Wolf came unexpectedly to the fore and peered through her eyes, this one smells of fire and strength, she would be a fitting match for us.

You cannot just claim a woman because you like her, Sister, Lexa replied internally, rather shocked that her wolf had reacted so strongly towards someone they knew nothing about. Sister Wolf rarely approved of anyone, let alone a complete stranger. Even Lexa’s closest friends hadn’t been accepted by Sister Wolf until they had proven their loyalty without doubt. For her to declare guardianship of this woman was shocking. The complex feelings communicated behind Sister Wolf’s words mainly comprised of an intense protectiveness and deep respect for the aura of power the woman exuded. She hadn’t felt anything like this since Costia and even then Sister Wolf took a few months to warm up to her. Sister Wolf insisted on meeting this woman’s gaze and holding it. Lexa felt no impulse to enforce her dominance or any challenge of strength in her eyes. That clear blue seemed to look into her very soul, both of their souls. Those eyes were defiant and fiery, but if anything Sister Wolf liked her more for it. It was an overwhelming experience for Lexa and she was more grateful than ever for the 100+ years she had spent perfecting her unflappable facade.

“Is my wolf correct in assuming you cannot speak English?” Lexa addressed the stranger directly, looking for any hint of recognition or understanding. When she found none, she tried again in French, then in German, Gaelic, and Russian. In a last ditch attempt, she addressed her in very broken Danish. That got a response. The girl’s eyes widened slightly and she spoke a few sentences back in what Lexa assumed was the girl’s native language. Lexa had a gift for languages and recognized this as a very old European dialect, definitely Germanic in nature. She leaned over to Indra.

“Indra, would you be able to cast a short-term spell that would allow me to speak her language? I would like to communicate our good intent to her before we cast a permanent translation spell on her. I get the sense that she would perceive outside magic as an attack and respond in kind.”

“Sha, Heda. That should be possible. I believe it is wise to wait until she understands what I am casting.”

Indra began pulling out various herbs and candles. She asked for a lock of Lexa’s hair and Lexa used her balisong--she had never stopped fidgeting with it--to cut off a few strands before putting the knife in her pocket. Indra took about five minutes to set everything up to her satisfaction, candles set in a pattern around her and a small bowl of herbs smoking gently within a chalk symbol. I will have to ask Indra where she gets her candles, Lexa mused, I have been running low for a while now. Ha! If by ‘running low’ you mean our stock has dropped below a hundred, Sister Wolf teased. Ignoring her, Lexa stood in front of Indra and waited patiently for her to cast the spell. Indra chanted a few phrases in Trigedasleng--Lexa didn’t realize how much she missed hearing her mother’s language spoken aloud--and burned Lexa’s hair in one of the candles. Lexa felt a flow of cool energy starting at the crown of her head down to her feet and then back up to condense in her vocal cords. If it had worked correctly, it would allow Lexa to understand any spoken language and speak in that dialect for up to an hour. Lexa cleared her throat and stretched her jaw to get rid of the tingling before speaking.

“Can you understand me now, stranger?” Lexa asked, facing the stranger and moving down the stairs of the dais to stand in front of her.

The surprise in the woman’s eyes was evident, but she had tensed up once more when Indra performed her magic.

“That woman, she is a witch?” The woman’s voice was lower than Lexa would have expected, even though she had heard her speak before briefly. The raspiness of it had Sister Wolf purring with pleasure in the back of her mind.

“You have nothing to fear from her, I promise. She is a shaman from my childhood tribe. She has been trained by European witches, but dislikes their lust for power and pain. You are an enigma to us. We do not know anything about where you came from or how you arrived here. It is almost as if you fell from the sky. You do not speak English and the language you do speak has not been used for over one thousand years. My name is Lexa and I am the leader of this werewolf pack. I swear that no harm will come to you here as you will be under my personal protection. This translation spell Indra has cast is not a permanent one. I wished to be able to communicate with you before attempting to use magic on you without your consent. Would it be acceptable if she were to cast a permanent translation spell on you?” One sentence from this woman and Lexa was rambling like an idiot. She had not said this many words at the same time since her last motivational speech, years ago. It took every shred of her self-control to suppress a blush.

“It’s good to make your acquaintance, Lexa of the werewolves. You may refer to me as Klark. My story is my own, but I can tell you that I most definitely did not fall from the sky,” she pronounced her name with an emphasis on both hard consonants in her name.

“Clarke, is it? Very well, for now I will not press you to share anything you do not wish too. However, in exchange I require your word that you will not harm any in this town or any under my protection,” she tried pronouncing Clarke’s name as she had but felt she had gotten it wrong by the wry smile that flashed across Clarke’s face. Lexa was very grateful that Anya could not understand her right now or she would be having a hissy-fit at how lenient she was being. It is very unlike her to give in to other people’s refusal without a fight. She was used to demanding obedience, not requesting it.

“You ask too much of me. I will give you my word in this only: I will not cause any intentional harm to those under your watch without prior provocation. I will retain the right to protect myself as I deem fit.”

“I suppose that is sufficient for now. What of your consent for the spell? I have already promised you my protection and you have retained the right to retaliate should any harm come to you.”

“Fine, you have my permission, but for the translation spell only. Nothing else will be cast on me,” Clarke's reply was reluctant, but she seemed to understand the necessity of it.

“Very well. Indra will need a piece of your hair for her spell,” Lexa pulled out a dagger from the sheath at her back and offered it to Clarke. Lexa could practically hear Anya’s teeth grinding at the stupidity of offering an untested stranger a weapon.

Clarke quickly grasped one of her many braids and sliced it off. She handed the hair to Lexa, but kept the dagger. Lexa let her keep it without complaint and walked back up to Indra.

“She has given her permission for the spell. Is there anything you need from her besides the hair?” Lexa asked, in English this time, handing Indra the braid.

“I will need to make physical contact for this spell, will you need to ask her for permission?” Lexa thought she heard a note of teasing in Indra’s voice, but her face was as expressionless as ever.

Lexa ignored Indra and walked back to Clarke. She held her hand out to her in a silent request. Clarke met Lexa’s eyes for a long moment before grasping the outstretched hand lightly.

Anya coughed from beside the throne just loud enough for all the wolves to hear, “cough that’s gay, cough cough.” Lexa glared at her sister and unleashed her control on her dominance enough to make Anya tilt her neck and look down. She led Clarke up the steps and stood her in front of Indra. Indra drew several more complicated symbols in chalk in addition to her previous work. She added a few more herbs to the incense bowl before coming to Clarke and taking her hand from Lexa. Lexa hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. She backed up quickly, trying to cover her embarrassment and ignoring the low whine from Sister Wolf at the loss of contact.

Indra took a pinch of ash from the incense bowl and smeared a streak down Clarke’s forehead from her hairline to just between her eyebrows. Clarke stiffened at the touch, but otherwise allowed it. Indra leaned down and lit the braid of hair, holding it in her hand until it was well and truly aflame and then placed it in the bowl. She began chanting softly as the smoke drifted up, clogging everyone’s nostrils with the acrid scent of burning hair. Rising magic tickled the hairs on the back of Lexa’s neck. The candle flames grew taller and flickered different colors: red, purple, and green. As soon as Indra ended her chanting, the flames blew out and the syrupy feel of magic dissipated. Indra stepped back and began collecting her various materials and used her foot to wipe away the chalk marks.

“Is that it?” Lexa asked Indra.

“Sha, Clarke should be able to communicate easily in any number of languages now. Oh and--” Indra’s warning was cut off by Clarke suddenly keeling over to her hands and knees and retching, “it might have some side effects,” Indra finished belatedly.

Lexa was already by Clarke’s side, holding up her red hair and rubbing her back, before Indra had even finished speaking. She murmured comforting nothings in Trig while Clarke continued to gag. Once Clarke finished, she sat back on her heels, subtly disengaging from Lexa’s touch.

“That was more unpleasant than expected,” Clarke commented hoarsely as she wiped her mouth on a ragged sleeve, “there’s a reason I despise magic being cast on me.”

Indra gave a brief nod in apology as Clarke stood up, Lexa following her up effortlessly.

“Unless there are any other pressing matters,” Lexa paused as Bellamy nudged the mutilated head with his snout, “Ah yes, I believe that is a matter better addressed in the presence of Nyko and the light of day. You are all dismissed for now. Go home and rest, I will call you this afternoon to update those who need it and discuss further action.”

The group dispersed slowly, Bellamy and Octavia trudging tiredly away and Gustus carrying Indra’s bag of materials so she didn’t have to. Anya stayed behind briefly to let Lexa know that she had brought the truck and would be giving the Blakes a ride back to their home to save them the walk. Once they were gone, Lexa turned to Clarke.

“You will stay at my home for the time being,” Lexa explained to Clarke, “My house is built to accommodate pack guests and has more than enough space.”

Clarke dipped her head in acceptance and trailed after Lexa as they left the building. She waited as Lexa locked the building and set the security alarm. She seemed ready to start walking in whatever direction Lexa indicated. Lexa chuckled silently and gestured to her bike.

“We will be taking this back to my home,” Lexa explained.

Clarke’s brows creased in confusion. She looked rather skeptical at the bike’s ability to carry them both. Lexa handed her the helmet she kept clipped to the side of the bike before realizing that Clarke would have no clue what to do with it. The helmet was open-faced with no visor to close off the front but still curving down to cover the ears to block out the wind. Lexa gently took the helmet back and stepped closer to Clarke.

“This will keep your head in one peace in the extremely unlikely chance of an accident,” said Lexa, only a little cocky, “May I help you put it on?”

Clarke stepped even closer in answer, only a hands-length away from Lexa now. Lexa beat down Sister Wolf’s efforts to strain nearer to Clarke and carefully placed the black helmet over her matted mess of hair. She adjusted the chin strap and clipped it into place, making sure it fit securely. If her hands lingered longer than necessary against Clarke’s warm cheeks and neck, she refused to acknowledge it. She straddled her bike and patted the seat behind her in invitation. Clarke awkwardly mimicked Lexa’s actions and clambered onto the bike.

“If this contraption is so dangerous, why aren’t you wearing head protection too?” Clarke asked.

“I am a werewolf, Clarke,” Lexa loved the way her name rolled off her tongue, “I tend to be quite durable, especially when compared to fragile humans. Now, this ‘contraption’ as you call it will be rather loud when I start it, just so you know. Also, it is advisable that you hold onto me to keep you safely anchored when we start moving.”

The Ducati was a top-of-the-line, on/off-road hybrid, all smooth lines and horsepower. Beautiful as it was, it didn’t have any of the passenger handles or back support that bulkier models often did. Sister Wolf exuded smugness at the fact that Clarke would have to cling to them for the duration of the ride. Lexa and Sister Wolf needed to have a long conversation after all this about proper boundaries and her odd fascination with the beautiful newcomer. Clarke hesitantly wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist, trying to avoid contact as much as possible. Lexa started up the bike and revved the engine. She peeled out onto the road home and smirked widely as Clarke’s grip tightened hastily. Clarke pressed herself against her back and buried her face in Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa shivered with the heat she swore she could feel through her thick motorcycle jacket and shirt. Clarke seemed to run hotter than normal humans or even werewolves. Sister Wolf skimmed right under the surface of Lexa’s skin, not attempting to take control but craving the feel of Clarke against her. Lexa knew her wolf shone in her eyes, but it didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She knew that she was in no danger of losing control and Sister Wolf was content drifting under her skin and drinking in Clarke’s scent, a pleasant combination of smoky bourbon and burnt molasses, sweet tinged with the unmistakable taste of fire. Her smell was unexpectedly human, lacking the bite of Fae blood. Lexa had never encountered any humans with powers who hadn’t had Fae ancestry or other preternatural connections. Her curiosity burned, but she tamped it down for now. Clarke had obviously been through a lot and hopefully would feel comfortable enough with Lexa eventually to talk about it.

The motorcycle pulled into the open garage as dawn tinged the sky with pinks and lightening blues, though the sun wouldn’t be seen over the mountains for a few hours yet. It had taken them longer to travel home than usual as Lexa drove quite a bit slower than she normally did. Clarke already had a deathgrip around her waist even though Lexa barely sped above twenty miles an hour, she didn’t want to cause this woman any more distress if possible. She dismounted and turned to help Clarke only to see she had already gotten off the bike. Lexa led the way through the garage into the house and to a spare bedroom on the first floor.

“This will be your bedroom for the duration of your stay. There are nightclothes in the dresser and clean day clothes as well,” Lexa opened the various drawers of the dresser to show Clarke pajamas, t-shirts, leggings and sweats, “Anya and I will be upstairs. Please do not be afraid to ask us for anything you might need. If you need to relieve yourself, there is a bathroom across the hall.”

Clarke walked into the room quietly, turned around, and just stood there, staring into Lexa’s eyes. Her gaze was so intense that Lexa had to repress the urge to retreat a step. She studied Lexa, searching for something in her facial expression, her body language, and her gaze. Lexa fought to keep her Heda mask in place against Clarke’s penetrating scrutiny.

“What’s your game, Lexa? Nothing is given free of exchange. Why do you want me in your debt so badly? What do you gain through helping me?”

Lexa was taken aback by the venom in her voice. She hadn’t thought about how Clarke could perceive her actions. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature. They crave community and belonging. The few lone wolves in existence were eccentric, to put it lightly. They either hated what they were and viewed themselves as monsters or were hermits by nature even before becoming wolves. Dominance was an attribute that served as a measure of how well a wolf could protect those that belonged to them. The most dominant wolves became Alphas as they had the strength to keep the entire pack safe from any threat. The less dominant wolves depended on their Alphas for stability and structure. Alpha’s homes were designed to be places for the pack to gather for celebrations and bonding. When a pack-less wolf entered an Alpha’s territory, they were initiated into the pack and provided everything they needed to care for themselves. The Alpha or their Second helped find them find jobs and housing. Often they housed the wolf in their own home temporarily. For Lexa, providing for those who needed help was just basic instinct. She didn’t feel complete without having others to care for. She made sure her pack had more than enough monetary means to support any who came looking for protection, as long as they agreed to live by her rules. She had to completely reconstruct her way of thinking in order to understand the reasoning behind Clarke’s accusations.

“Let me see if I can get this right. In your eyes, we used force to coerce you into coming to our territory, perform magic on you, and now put you in our debt with offers of clothing and housing, am I correct?” Lexa mused aloud.

Clarke nodded jerkily, not breaking eye contact. Lexa was still perplexed that her wolf didn’t object to that. Usually holding a werewolf’s gaze was an act of aggression, a challenge to their authority. Sister Wolf didn’t treat Clarke as she would a challenger. She saw Clarke as an equal, not a threat but a partner. Lexa found that she enjoyed the sense of rightness that settled over her and Sister Wolf while looking into Clarke’s eyes.

“Well, what would you suggest as a fair exchange for my pack's generosity?”

“I don’t need your generosity. I have been on my own for longer than you can possibly imagine. I have already given you my word not to harm anyone you see as yours, but that does not make me one of them.”

Lexa paused for a few moments, brow slightly furrowed and hands clasped together tapping her lips.

“I understand, Clarke. Your independence will remain your own, I swear it. If you will not accept charity, I propose a compromise. My pack will provide food, shelter, and housing. In exchange, you will find a trade in town and work for your keep. If at any time you wish to leave, let me or one of my pack know and we will assist you in wherever you wish to go,” Lexa's voice softened and she gentled her gaze, “Clarke, I cannot possibly imagine what you have been through or the turmoil you are currently experiencing. But I give you my word, my intentions are purely to help you adjust to what the world is now and to ensure you have a safe place to do so,” Lexa was breathless by the end of her speech and had drifted much closer to Clarke than she had realized.

Clarke’s stormy-blue eyes bored into hers. Lexa tried her best to project honesty and sincerity. She must have found whatever it was she was looking for because Clarke stepped back and turned to the dresser. Lexa let out a long breath, closing her eyes and dropping her head. The cobalt of Clarke’s eyes seemed imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Hearing rustling, she reopened her eyes to see Clarke stripping off her top. Lexa blushed like a tomato and stumbled backwards in a rush to escape. She couldn’t help but stare at the gorgeous expanse of Clarke’s back; her jaw dropped at the surprisingly defined muscles shifting under pale skin. At Lexa’s soft gasp, Clarke turned to see what was wrong. Lexa thanked the gods for her werewolf speed as she spun quickly enough at the beginning of Clarke’s turn to avoid getting an eyeful. She blushed even harder and began stammering her goodnights. She left the room so rapidly she missed Clarke’s look of bewilderment.

It took Lexa a long time to fall asleep, and it wasn’t because of the morning light peeking in through her window. After changing into pjs, she found a few candles from around her room and lit them, the smell calming her racing heart. She lied down on her bed and began running through one of her meditation routines. Finally, after about an hour of meditation, her breathing slowed and she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Lexa woke to the smell of smoke. Panicking, she looked over to where she left her candles burning, but they were all out and everything seemed normal. The sound of Anya’s yelling through her open bedroom door spurred her into action. She sprinted downstairs to Clarke’s room, where Anya was frantically beating a wet blanket against a smoldering door. Without pausing, Lexa rammed her shoulder into the door, splintering it open and took stock of the situation. Smoke writhed in the air along with the smell of charred clothing and burning paint. Clarke thrashed on the bed, moaning, her eyes still clenched shut and wreathed in white flames. Lexa rushed to her side and grabbed her shoulders, disregarding the searing pain in her hands and arms. She shook Clarke and called her name until her eyes snapped open, looking around wildly in terror. As soon as Clarke’s eyes opened, Lexa backed off and knelt on the floor, making herself look as unthreatening as possible. Within seconds, Clarke extinguished her flames and clenched her fist, quenching the rest of the fires in the room.

Anya stomped into the room and threw the soaking blanket over Clarke.

“What the fuck, Anya?!” Clarke sputtered--Lexa hadn’t realized that the translation spell had given her such a comprehensive vocabulary--as the blanket slapped her in the face, “The fire is out!”

Lexa got to her feet and schooled her expression into neutrality. She was not going to laugh. Anya just gave Clarke a cheeky grin and shrugged. Clarke looked around the now ruined room, embarrassment guilt coloring her cheeks red.

“I’m so sorry. This hasn’t happened for a long time and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Do not worry yourself about it, Clarke,” Lexa reassured her, “This home was built to house werewolves. This is not even close to the worst thing that has happened here. In the meantime, I suggest perhaps moving rooms?”

“Commander!” Anya yelped as she noticed Lexa’s burned hands and arms, “You’re hurt!”

“Relax, Anya,” Lexa replied calmly, “It will heal soon enough. It's of no concern.”

Clarke glanced at Lexa’s wounded hands for the first time, forehead furrowed in concern. She crawled off the bed and tenderly grasped her already healing hands. Lexa’s heart sped up, not from the pain but from the compassion in Clarke’s actions. She lifted her hands out of Clarke’s grasp and clasped them behind her back.

“My hands will heal perfectly fine, Clarke,” she said quietly and then turned to Anya, “Anya, call our usual contractor to come whenever he is free. Also, we will need a room fireproofed as soon as possible to prevent further incidents.”

“No problem, Commander. I’ll make sure our guy’s here ASAP. He can probably do the fire-proofing too,” she shot an evil eye towards Clarke before pulling her cell out of her pocket and walking away.

“I get the feeling she’s not very fond of me,” Clarke remarked dryly.

“Unfortunately that is normal behavior for Anya. She is rather prickly.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s a right bitch until you get to know her, then she’s a peach.”

“No,” Lexa shook her head ruefully, “I am afraid she becomes more of a bitch the more she gets to know you.”

That surprised a chuckle from Clarke. It was the most musical laugh Lexa had ever heard. She almost purred in contentment before she stuffed it down. What the hell is wrong with me , she wondered, I know Anya says I turn to mush around beautiful women, but this is on a whole new level . Sister Wolf huffed and sent her the image of a wolfish laugh. See? I am not the only one who is fond of our fiery human, Sister Wolf teased, you are just as enamored as me. Lexa closed her eyes for a few beats to pull herself together. Only, when she opened them, she realized that Clarke was clothed only in ash. Her eyes expanded comically and she rapidly flung her gaze to the ceiling, clearing her throat to rid its sudden tightness.

“Um,” did I just ‘um’? I haven’t been flustered since I was a child, “maybe you would like to bathe before we go out for the day?”

“Oh, yes, you have a point,” Clarke said, looking down at the ash and grime coating her body, “Do you have a nearby stream or well for water?”

“Oh, you are going to love this, Clarke,” Lexa smiled, lips lifting slightly, “Follow me.”

She led Clarke to her own personal bathroom upstairs. She had spared no expense perfecting her haven. The bathroom was immense, containing a walk-in tiled shower, jacuzzi tub, marble-countered double vanity, and lots of candles. The outside wall consisted of a floor-to-ceiling window displaying a spectacular view of the Montana mountains and trees. The floors were of the same warm-toned wood as the rest of the house, except for a semi-circle in front of the shower. There, dark grey stone tiles led into the shower and lined the walls. The shower itself had three shower heads, one each on opposite walls and a waterfall style head hanging from the ceiling. All-in-all, it was a masterpiece of modern luxury. Lexa was spartan in most things, but she took great care in creating her personal spaces. It was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself. Looking over at Clarke, she saw her gaping in wonder. Apparently she was much more impressed by this room than she was by her bedroom downstairs.

Lexa walked her through the bathroom, demonstrating how to use the shower, the bath, the sinks in the vanity, and the toilet for good measure, all while steadfastly keeping her eyes away from Clarke. Lexa was anything but body-shy. Growing up as a werewolf, she learned quickly that modesty is impossible when shifting back and forth. Wolves had no problem with nudity and it rarely fazed her. But whatever this was with Clarke, it was seriously messing with her head. She was lost in thought as she fetched Clarke a bathrobe and rummaged through her closet to retrieve a change of clothes. She was only an inch or so taller than Clarke, but her shirts would probably be tight across the chest (not that Lexa had looked at Clarke’s chest). She really needed to talk to Niylah about supplying Clarke with a proper wardrobe. She returned to the bathroom and placed everything on the vanity. The shower was running and steam blurred the glass shower door. A quiet singing was barely audible above the sound of the water. Lexa leaned against the counter, smiling softly at the raspy voice drifting from the shower. The tone and rhythm of the song sounded like it must have been Viking in origin, though the lyrics were English.

“Who shall sing me,

Into deathsleep sling me,

When I on the path to Hel go,

And this track I tread

Is cold, so cold, so cold.

I sought the songs,

I sent the songs.

Then the deepest well

Gave me tears so harsh

From the Slain-father's pledge.

I know everything, Odin,

To whom you gave your eye.

Who shall sing me,

Into deathsleep sling me,

Whence I on the path to Hel go,

And this track I tread

Is cold, so cold, so cold.

Early or in the day's end,

The raven still knows if I fall.

Once you stand at the gate to Hel

And when you have to tear free,

I shall follow you

Over Gjallarbrú with my song.

You will be free from the bonds that bind you,

You are free from the bonds that bound you!

Cattle die,

Friends die,

So, too, must you die.

Though one thing

Never dies;

The fair fame one has earned.

Cattle die,

Friends die,

So, too, must you die.

I know one,

That never dies;

Judgement of a dead man's life."

Lexa was transfixed by the haunting melody. It resonated deep in her soul and spoke to her heart. She had an intimate relationship with death and loss. She had lost far too many people in her long life: her father, her mother, mentors, friends, her first and only love. A single tear slid down along the line of her nose. She tasted the salt of it on her lips. So mesmerized was she that she didn’t hear the water stop or the shower door open. Clarke stood on the wet tile, awkwardly glancing towards the robe on the counter behind Lexa. Lexa couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed, she brought the robe to Clarke and draped it around her shoulders. With a start, she realized the woman’s hair was now blonde. The red must have mostly washed out in the shower, though a few streaks were still visible here and there.

“I have never heard anything so beautiful. Where did you learn that song?” Lexa asked, still full of wonder at the exquisiteness of it.

“It was something my father used to sing to me. Every night before he left on a voyage, he would lay on the floor next to me and hold me while he sang that song. My mom didn’t like it, she thought it was too close to wishing for death and death was something she fought against every day. I loved it though. Death is inevitable and we can only hope that someone will sing our names when we go,” the look on Clarke’s face was both troubled and wistful.

“Your father sounds like a gentle man,” Lexa remarked, “mine was anything but. I believe my father loved me deeply, but he never thought I was enough. ‘Victory stands on the back of sacrifice,’ he would always say, ‘to be a leader is to be alone.’ I don’t think he ever truly recovered when my mother died giving birth to me.”

Lexa had never spoken so honestly about her father; any one close to her either knew of her father already or never pushed Lexa on the subject. She felt like she owed it to Clarke though, after Clarke had shared something so personal about herself.

“Do you believe that?”

“Believe what? That love is weakness?” Lexa asked, cocking her head slightly in a wolflike motion.

A small nod from Clarke and that same searching gaze as from the bedroom the night before.

“I can only believe in what I have experienced. And in my experience, love only results in pain,” Lexa’s heart twinged as the image of Costia’s bloody head flashed across her thoughts.

“You and loss seem to be old friends, Lexa. Maybe we are not so different after all,” Clarke offered her half smile, though it almost seemed more of a grimace.

“Maybe not, Clarke.”

With that, Lexa left the bathroom and headed downstairs. As she waited for Clarke to finish getting ready, she called Octavia.

“Hey, Commander! What do you need?” Octavia’s bright voice sounded in her ear.

“Our newcomer, Clarke, would like a tour of the town today. I have to examine the corpse of the monster you found with Nyko. I need you to escort Clarke and introduce her to some of the other wolves and townspeople.”

“It would be my pleasure, Commander! When do you want me to be there?”

“Within the next twenty minutes will be fine. Also, be sure to take her to Niylah’s and get her situated with all the clothing she needs. Bring your car, Clarke does not have the speed or endurance of a wolf like you do.”

“Got it. I’ll be there soon,” she said, hanging up.

Clarke trailed downstairs about ten minutes later, looking much better without all the dirt and grime. She looked softer and less haggard with clean hair and skin. She wore a blue knit sweater that was a little too long in the sleeves and too tight in the chest. The black leggings she wore seemed to fit well enough and so did the slip-on green and grey tennis shoes she wore.

“I have asked Octavia to escort you around town today. She should be here soon.”

“I thought you would be the one to show me around,”  Clarke said, seeming a little put out.

“I wish I could. However, I have business to attend to, one matter being the beast you encountered yesterday,” Lexa felt a pleasant flutter in her stomach at the thought of Clarke wanting to spend time with her, “Octavia should be an excellent guide and it might help the town feel more at ease with you in the presence of someone other than their Alpha. Do not worry, Clarke, she is more than capable of protecting you if necessary.”

“I don’t need protection,” Clarke spat, all of her walls slamming into place with enough force to almost make Lexa flinch, “I refuse to be baby-sat by a child!”

Lexa stepped back a pace, startled by the sudden rancor emanating from Clarke. Sister Wolf was more upset by Clarke’s obvious distress than by the inappropriate challenge she exhibited. She whined, wanting to wrap her body around Clarke and lick her face in apology. Some of her concern must have shown on her face because Clarke softened slightly and looked away.

“Clarke,” Lexa said kindly, easing closer to her and ducking her head to meet Clarke’s gaze, “I did not mean to suggest you are incapable of defending yourself. I merely meant to keep the promise of safety I made you when we first met.”

“Just, I don’t want you thinking that I can’t take care of myself. I’m not weak or helpless.”

“I can see that. You carry yourself with confidence and self-assurance. My wolf recognizes your strength and respects you for it.”

Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and someone traipsing inside.

“Hey new girl! You ready to rock-and-roll?” called out Octavia as she sauntered into the room.

The translation spell might have vastly expanded Clarke’s vocabulary, but it didn’t seem to help her understand less-than-literal expressions. She looked to Lexa for help and Lexa shrugged slightly.

“She means: are you ready to go,” said Lexa.

Understanding washed over her face and she turned to Octavia, nodding. Octavia came up and hooked her arm into Clarke’s, quickly letting go when Clarke tensed visibly. Werewolves who don’t understand body language tended to die sooner rather than later.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Octavia apologized, offering an contrite grin, “I forget most people aren’t as touchy-feely as us wolves.”

She bounced back effortlessly from the rejection and ushered Clarke out the door, making sure not to invade her personal space. Lexa heard Octavia’s car start and drive off down the gravel road. She pulled out her cell again and called the pack doctor, Nyko.

“Hello, Commander. I assume you’re calling about the body sitting in my morgue?”

“Yes, have you had a chance to examine it yet?”

“I haven’t completed a full work-up yet, only an external examination. I figured you would want to be present for the autopsy. I have taken some skin and blood samples though and I’m just waiting on the results.”

“Good, I will be there shortly,” she said and ended the call.

Glimpsing herself in the mirror hanging in the entryway, she realized she hadn’t changed out of her ruined pjs. She ran upstairs, hurriedly dressed, re-braided her hair and applied her Heda medallion. She got on her bike and tore out of the garage, relishing the wind in her hair. She’d always loved anything fast and powerful; it made her feel free and alive.

Within fifteen minutes, she parked outside a plain brick building that butted up against the town clinic. She walked inside without knocking and headed into the chilly autopsy room. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of rotting flesh and industrial cleaners. She’d never been fond of this place, with its reek of death and chemicals. A hefty man in a white lab coat turned around as she entered.

“It’s good to see you, Commander,” the man said, “I should be ready to begin in a few moments.”

Nyko’s substantial frame belied the gentleness evident in his face and voice. He was one of the few submissive wolves Lexa knew of. Submissive wolves were always a blessing to have in a pack. They didn’t feel the same need to vie for dominance that typical werewolves did. They helped center the pack with their steady presence. Because they didn’t present a threat to anyone’s pack position, they were able to make suggestions and give guidance that no one other than the Alpha could. Submissives appealed to dominant wolves’ inherent need to defend those less dominant than themselves. That wasn’t to say that they were at all weak or incapable of taking care of themselves though. Nyko was one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the pack and was death incarnate with a battle-axe.

Lexa nodded in acknowledgement to Nyko and situated herself near the metal table holding the monster’s corpse. Someone had evidently retrieved the head from the Meeting Hall and it was resting in its place atop the neck. Nyko collected his tools and set them on a moving cart by the body.

“You will probably want this,” Nyko proffered piece of headwear that had a clear plastic shield meant to cover the face, “This will most likely get rather messy.” He grinned and revved his small, handheld electric saw.

Over the next couple of hours, Nyko inspected every inch of the corpse. Internally, the body was similar to a human’s but things were slightly out of proportion. The heart and lungs were over-sized and the intestines were shrunken and malformed. They would function well-enough, but didn’t seem to be altogether natural. The stomach contents revealed half-digested meat and hide from what was most likely a deer. The weirdest part was the head. The mouth was caught midway between human and wolf, a short muzzle covered in patchy fur and filled with far too many sharp fangs. Its eyes were bloodshot and the pupils were ringed in red. Nyko sawed off the top of the skull and removed the brain. There was damage inconsistent with the Blakes’ fight and what looked like reddish lesions covering the prefrontal cortex.

“Look here, Commander,” Nyko said, leaning over the brain and pointing to the lesions, “These are not from any kind of disease that I know. If I had to guess, they could be caused by a drug that targets this specific area of the brain. The prefrontal cortex is responsible for most higher level thinking and behaviors, everything from decision-making to personality to behavior moderation. This amount of damage would result in nothing but a slavering animal,  one not capable of reason or impulse control. And if this thing really is a werewolf, everything human would be erased or overpowered by the wolf. It would only know the craving for blood, violence, and destruction. This is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a true monster.”

A machine beeped insistently behind him. He stripped off his bloody gloves and washed his hands before sitting down at a computer connected to some kind of scientific apparatus. He looked over the graph on the screen, interpreting the data.

“It seems that you were right, Commander, the results show both human and werewolf DNA.”

Lexa was leaning over the mutilated neck as he spoke. Something was niggling at her, but she couldn’t tell what it was. She asked Sister Wolf, but she couldn’t make it out either. The skin on the neck was torn and shredded by Bellamy’s teeth, so it was hard to make anything out. Suddenly she realized what was bothering her.

“Nyko,” she called him over and pointed to a smattering of small marks, “do these look like puncture marks to you?”

He pulled one of the magnifying lenses attached to the table over and positioned it to get a closer look.

“I think they definitely could be. Let me swab it and see if I can get anything about what might have been in the needle.”

“Let me know as soon as you have any news,” she removed the face shield and placed it on a counter before exiting and driving home. There was a lot she needed to think about.

Chapter Text

Clarke wanted to scream. Octavia hadn’t stopped talking since they walked out of Lexa’s door and it was driving her insane. After spending the last several centuries basically alone, the werewolf’s constant chatter was overwhelming. She could practically feel her muscles clenching tighter with every new word out of her mouth. 

She hated this. She hated being strapped into this iron deathtrap. She hated the irritating whine of Octavia’s voice as she nattered incessantly. She hated that she had no control over where they were going or what they were doing. She especially hated the cold fear that gripped her chest as she was trapped with a monster . 

The nightmare from this morning plagued her mind, flashed before her eyes every time she blinked. The snarling hounds and rending of flesh reverberated in her ears. This wasn’t the first time she’d had this nightmare, hell, it wasn’t even the ten thousandth time. But it hadn’t been this real, this visceral, since almost before she could remember. It must have been seeing these werewolves and that other beast last night , Clarke brooded. She knew that the wolves weren’t the monsters that haunted her dreams, but damned if they didn’t look close enough. The red and white wolf hadn’t been too bad; it was the dark one that really triggered her. It was too close, too similar to the… no, I can’t think about this right now . She couldn’t afford to have a panic attack right now, not like last night.

She had just lit her campfire and was settling down for the night when she had sensed the werewolves’ presence--surviving in Underhill trained one to stay alert at all times. She had whirled around and seen the wolf as it pounced. She’d been able to stave both of them off instinctually, fire enveloping her hands without thought. Her mind hadn’t truly been engaged though. One glimpse of the wolves was enough to send her spiraling back to the worst day of her life. She fought automatically and probably wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from killing them if the true monster hadn’t shown up. This monster sent Clarke into a full-blown panic, freezing her in place. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. As much as she feared these werewolves, she would be dead without them. Even her fire wouldn’t have saved her, paralyzed as she was. And that was another thing, she never froze up. Panicking meant death. Shutting down meant death. Yet she had done both in the presence of that mutated abomination. One fucking day out of Underhill and I’m losing my edge , Clarke thought scornfully.

And that was yet another thing. She’d known that Underhill had kept her prisoner for a long time--time was unreliable in the Fae realm--but she never thought it had been over a millenia . Everyone and everything she knew was dust. She thought she had accepted that fact ages ago, but she’d also never expected to escape Underhill with her life. Returning to the human world had thrown her for a major loop and brought up long-buried pains and ancient sorrows. Her nightmares this morning were proof enough of that. Remembering the disaster she made of the bedroom, her thoughts drifted to the one who had rescued her from her dreams.

Lexa had released her from those horrors, at the expense of her hands. The lingering terror had faded when she had looked into those forest-green eyes, immersed in a feeling of safety. She had perceived genuine concern and worry in Lexa’s face that hadn’t been completely hidden once she regained her composure. It was evident in the slight wrinkle between the Alpha’s eyebrows and faint tightness of her lips. 

Lexa was an enigma to Clarke. She couldn’t understand why a total stranger would offer so much and ask so little in return. The concept of charity didn’t exist in the Fae. Bargains were the lifeblood of their society, they took everything they possibly could and gave as little back as they could get away with. Technically, Fae can’t lie, but they were master manipulators and tricksters. They twisted words like a silversmith twisted metal. Their ‘gifts’ were never without strings, strings that turned into ropes to hang yourself with. Even a simple ‘thank you’ was interpreted as acknowledgment of a debt owed. For over a thousand years, Clarke had never trusted a single thing offered freely. Her reckless deal with Underhill had already cost her far too much. 

Underhill, in the guise of a young child named Tilly, had promised her revenge and power in exchange for exterminating some ungrateful pests. She had been convinced she had nothing left to lose, so she took the deal. Underhill had been true to its word, it had given Clarke long life, enhanced speed, strength, and the ability to wield fire to devastating effect. And Clarke had, in return, incinerated everyone Tilly pointed her towards. For years she had been a mindless tool in Tilly’s hands. She had been maddened by grief, blind to the lives Tilly forced her to take. Clarke had eventually come back to herself, only to behold the swathes of destruction she’d wreaked at Underhill’s command. Secretly she thought that Underhill allowed her to regain her sanity, if only because it had grown bored and had found a new way to play with its flame-wielding toy. From then until now, Clarke had played a game of cat-and-mouse. Tilly would throw obstacles, mainly in the form of Fae monstrosities, in her way and watch as Clarke fought for her continued survival. Mastery over her fire had come quickly, as a single mistake often cost her dearly in blood and pain.

So no, she hadn’t believed Lexa when she promised protection and sanctuary without naming a price. Every minute of her life since the Fae Queen had kidnapped her taught Clarke to be wary of apparent good intentions. Nevertheless, when she had stared into Lexa’s eyes and voiced her suspicions, Lexa had taken her concerns seriously and produced a thoughtful exchange. More than anything, it was her candid straightforwardness that convinced Clarke of Lexa’s good intent. 

And then there had been that moment in the bathroom after Clarke’s shower. Singing was one of the few joys Clarke had left. Her song in the blissful heat of the shower had been a hymn honoring her father’s memory. She had cried as she sang, raw and cathartic at the same time. The shower had left her feeling rejuvenated both physically and emotionally. She had paused before exiting, seeing Lexa’s outline through the foggy glass of the shower door. She had felt uncharacteristically shy at the thought of someone, of Lexa, witnessing her moment of vulnerability. She had never been one to let timidity control her actions though, so she had taken a deep breath and stepped out. She’d had a few moments to study Lexa’s face before she noticed Clarke’s presence. Lexa’s expression had been awed. She had seemed lost in melancholy memories of her own. It surprised Clarke that Lexa hadn’t closed herself off once she was aware of Clarke’s exit. She had remained unguarded and at ease. Clarke couldn’t help but be captivated by the strength of her vulnerability. Lexa radiated an aura of safety that Clarke craved with every fiber of her being. She had ended up telling Lexa things she hadn’t spoken of to anyone outside of her best friend, Wells, and Wells had been dead for a long, long time.

The car’s sudden stop shook Clarke from her ponderings. Looking out Octavia’s window, she saw a large metal structure with a considerable chunk of its roof missing. Octavia was unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car, so Clarke hurried to follow. They walked up to the building and Clarke could hear music blasting out of the open double doors. Octavia started calling for...a bird? Clarke thought maybe she misheard what Octavia was yelling over the music. A 5’5” woman with muscled arms and a leg brace limped out from behind a heap of metal, Clarke was sure the heap had some kind of purpose but she hadn’t a clue what it would be.

“O! Where the hell’ve you been?!” The woman grabbed Octavia in a bear hug, lifting her slightly off the floor.

“What’s up Ray? Why the hell is there a hole in your roof?” Octavia gripped Raven around the waist and lifted up to her shoulder height.

“Oh that? That’s old news. I wanna hear about this gorgeous stranger lurking behind you,” Raven jerked her chin in Clarke’s direction as Octavia put her back on the ground and let go.

“This mysterious beauty goes by the name Clarke. I found her camped out in the forest last night while on patrol,” Octavia waved Clarke closer and slung an arm around her shoulders, which Clarke promptly shrugged off, sidling away.

“Since when do you bring home strays, O?”

“Since they can ‘flame on’ like Johnny Storm.”

“WHAT?!” Raven leaned over and grasped Clarke’s hands, bringing them up near her face and examining them like she’d be able to figure out how Clarke’s fire worked just by looking. Clarke could feel metallic Fae magic sparking under Raven’s skin.

Clarke yanked her hands down and twisted out of the woman’s hold, gripped one of her wrists, spun around behind the girl’s back and wrenched the arm up in a shoulder lock. She held it tight enough that Raven had to rise onto her tiptoes to avoid dislocating her own arm.

“I don’t like being touched,” Clarke voice grated into Raven’s ear, she then let go and backed off a few feet as a boy came running out from another part of the building at the sound of Raven’s bark of pain.

“Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing to Raven?!” the boy--who looked about sixteen with dirty blonde hair and blazing gold eyes--yelled as he charged at Clarke and swung a fist at her face.

Clarke ducked under the flailing fist, caught the arm, pivoted, and used the teenager’s own momentum to throw him over her shoulder. He bounced once off the floor and was on his feet in a flash. He surged toward her and seized her around the waist, head tucked against her side. She dropped all her weight behind her elbow as she drove it into the muscle right between his neck and shoulders. He crumpled to the floor in pain and clutched his neck. Clarke immediately withdrew and readied herself for another attack.

“Aden! WTF dude! I appreciate your championship of my honor, but let’s try to avoid attacking our guests,” Raven exclaimed.

“Sorry, Ray,” he got up off the floor, rubbing his neck with a chagrined half-smile, “I saw her attack you and I kinda raged out for a minute there.”

“Yeah, well, I did maybe deserve it a little. I should know better than to go grabbing strangers out of the blue.”

Raven looked over to where Clarke was standing and held out a hand.

“I’m sorry for being a dick, the name’s Raven and this little dude is Aden, my grease monkey.”

Clarke eyed to proffered hand warily and folded her arms across her chest, leaning her weight onto her back leg. Raven let her hand drop with a shrug.

“I’m not little! I’m at least a head taller than you,” Aden fake pouted and bumped Raven with his shoulder.

For the duration of the fight, Octavia had been relaxed against a wall, hands stuck in her jean pockets. Now though, she marched forward and grabbed Aden by the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to face-level.

“Listen here, Aden, I know you’re still new to this whole wolf thing, but you can’t lose control like that! You know better! What would have happened if she had actually wanted to hurt you? You fought like an untrained puppy, Anya would be ashamed of you,” she glared at him, her eyes glowing the ice blue of her wolf.

“I’m sorry, O,” he said meekly, baring his neck in submission, “and can you pleeeaaaase not tell Anya? She’ll kick the shit out of me for a week for losing control like that.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep it between us, but you gotta promise it won’t happen again, ‘kay?” she released his shirt and gave him a friendly shove, “Raven here is our resident genius. She can build or destroy anything if you give her enough time and explosives. She’s part-Fae, like a lot of the non-wolves here in town. She’s a, what do you like to call yourself, Ray?”

“The man who got my mom pregnant, I refuse to call him my father, called himself a gremlin, but I prefer the term iron-kissed,” replied Raven, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, she’s iron-kissed, so she can work with iron and stuff without getting hurt like any other Fae would. She’s literal magic with machines and keeps most of this town running. Aden here’s a werewolf, as you probably figured out already. He was Changed earlier this year and still seems to be having some self-control issues. Otherwise he’s pretty chill and is one of the Commander’s favorites, not that she would ever admit it.”

Clarke continued to stand where she was, stony-eyed and detached. She wasn’t about to let her guard down now, not when she’s been attacked twice in this place.

“Okay, well this has been fun. Maybe we’ll stop by later and try this again,” Octavia gave Raven a hug goodbye and threw a couple of mock punches at Aden’s abs before hugging him too. Raven and Aden waved their goodbyes and went back to work, the music starting up again without a visible signal.

Clarke trailed Octavia to the car, ignoring her apologies and assurances that Raven and Aden are actually really cool and not all jerks and they’re just really excitable okay? Clarke mutely strapped herself back into the car. They drove for a couple minutes in blessed silence, Octavia finally picking up on Clarke’s wish for quiet. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Octavia continued on without waiting for Clarke’s response, “why didn’t you go all Human Torch on them like you did with me and Bell?”

Clarke hesitated for a few moments before answering.

“You and your brother were much more dangerous opponents than a half-Fae cripple and an idiot puppy. You and he attacked with the intent to kill or at least wound. You presented an actual threat that warranted the use of my fire. Raven wasn’t truly attacking me and Aden was trying to defend his friend. Subduing them was easy enough that I didn’t need to cause real harm.”

“That’s valid, but how did you get to be so damn fast? I thought you were a normal human, other than the whole fire-bending thing. No regular human would stand a chance against even a newbie werewolf’s speed.”

“I never claimed to be normal,” with that Clarke looked pointedly out the window, effectively ending the conversation.

Once in town, they pulled into a parking spot in front of a store with the words ‘Niylah’s Trading Post’ hanging above the door. A chime sounded when they opened the door and entered. The walls of the store were all covered with merchandise, everything from old-timey candy to winter gear to power tools. Rows of stocked shelves filled the space, with neat hand-written signs labelling each row’s contents. To the immediate left, in front of the candy jars, was a long counter. Behind the counter was a door labelled ‘Employees Only’.

“Hold your horses!” a sing-song voice saturated with a Southern twang called out from the side room. After a minute, a tall, willowy blonde woman in a red and blue flannel, well-worn jeans, and hiking boots walked out, dusting off her hands, “How’ve ya been, Octavia?”

“Hey Niylah, this is Clarke. She’s new in town and the Commander said she needs the whole shabang,” Octavia pulled Niylah into a long hug, before gesturing to Clarke.

“The Commander rescued another stray, did she?” Clarke bristled a little at being called a stray, but Niylah overlooked it, “what size are you, hun?”

At Clarke’s look of confusion, Niylah smiled and moved closer. Octavia gave a tiny warning shake of her head and Niylah stopped herself before she put her hands on Clarke.

“May I get a couple measurements? I promise no funny business,” Niylah leaned closer to Clarke and winked conspiratorially. Clarke released a small chuckle, much to her own surprise. She liked this woman, she was cute and funny and put Clarke at ease better than anyone else she’d met so far (she ignored the image of soulful green eyes lurking in the back of her mind). She nodded in assent and Niylah grabbed a tape measure from her pocket, stretching it across Clarke’s shoulders, along her arms, around her hips, and down her legs. Clarke enjoyed the practical efficiency of Niylah’s movements and the brief, warm brush of her hands. It had been so long since Clarke had let herself enjoy physical contact. Touch always meant either pain or loss of her control. It had become instinct to shy away or react explosively when her personal space was invaded. However, she trusted Niylah for some unknown reason. When Niylah stepped away, Clarke took a half-step to follow before returning to her senses.

“Niylah has that effect on everyone,” Octavia explained, noticing Clarke’s movement, “She’s an Omega wolf, meaning she works differently than most werewolves. She exists outside of pack dynamics, she’s not dominant or submissive and she doesn’t have to bow to anyone, including the Commander. Omegas have the ability to calm the wolf part in all of us werewolves and it helps relieve a lot of stress, especially in the wolves that struggle with control. She keeps her ability really well in hand so no one feels coerced or exploited, but she can’t completely stop it from leaking out in touch. Most of us love having her around and her power is better than catnip to our wolves. Niylah’s old enough and strong enough to even put non-wolves at ease.”

Clarke wasn’t sure she liked the idea that anyone could have such an effect on her, but she trusted her gut and her gut said that Niylah was safe. Niylah returned carrying a stack of shirts, pants, underthings, and a couple shoeboxes.

“Alright, sugar, why don’t you try a couple of these on and see how they fit,” Niylah suggested.

Clarke started stripping off her clothes and Niylah and Octavia glanced at each other, eyebrows raised in surprise. Being werewolves, stripping in front of others was the norm but they knew that most non-wolves had a thing about modesty. Octavia shrugged and let it happen. Clarke was now in underwear and an old-fashioned breast band. She held up a sports bra by a strap, looking perplexed.

“Come here, hun. Let me help,” Niylah took the sports bra and circled behind Clarke, “this functions like your breast band, but it’s definitely easier to put on and this one at least is pretty comfortable. Gotta keep the girls supported, ya know?”

Niylah found the end of the strip of cloth covering Clarke’s breasts and helped her unwind it. If Clarke had thought her touch felt good before, the effect was multiplied a hundred-fold against her bare skin. She relaxed into Niylah’s hands and released a tiny sigh of pleasure. Niylah leaned forward against Clarke to help her arms through the bra straps. She could feel the soft cotton of Niylah’s flannel against her back causing her heart to flutter and she gulped a little. Octavia snickered in the background. Ugh, fucking werewolves and their fucking supernatural hearing , Clarke grumbled to herself without moving a hair away from Niylah. Clarke missed having the warmth against her when Niylah moved away to secure the bra clasps.

“There, all done. How does that feel?”

“Mmmmm,” Clarke replied, not really talking about the bra and then she blushed as she realized what Niylah was asking about, “uh, yea, no it’s good, it fits fine.”

Niylah smiled and rounded to Clarke’s front. She folded her arms and cocked her head wolfishly, tapping a finger against her lips. She examined Clarke’s bra, checking the fit.

“There’s one thing I have to fix. This may get a little, uh, intimate, but I promised to keep things professional and I keep my promises,” another wink and a cheeky smirk when Niylah saw Clarke’s blush.

Odin save me, a pretty girl touches me and I turn back into a hormonal teenager , Clarke thought, absolutely mortified. She gave Niylah the go-ahead and Niylah stepped up to Clarke again. She glanced at Clarke for confirmation and then slid one hand under the bra to lift up her breast and adjusted the front of the bra with the other. She repeated the process on the other side as Clarke recited the lineage of her gods--and knowing Norse gods, this was not a simple task--in an effort to avoid blushing harder. Finished with adjustments, Niylah pulled back and reassessed the fit.

“Alright I think that works pretty well, sweetheart. How ‘bout you try on the shirts and pants now?”

Clarke rapidly pulled on a shirt and some pants, not paying any attention to the clothes themselves, just wanting to move on from her embarrassment. The clothes all fit perfectly. Niylah had an excellent eye for judging sizes and she’d also obviously been paying close attention to every inch of Clarke. There were several shirts of different styles and five or six pairs of jeans, leggings, and athletic shorts. The shoes fit perfectly too and Niylah showed her how to tighten the laces and tie everything properly. Clarke had been tying knots practically since before she could walk, but it gave her another excuse to have Niylah’s hands on hers as they guided her through the motions. Niylah bagged up all the clothes along with other supplies like toothbrushes, hairbrushes, etcetera.

“Oh, also, the Commander just texted me and told me to ask if you had any fire extinguishers available,” Octavia chimed in.

“Let me see,” Niylah replied thoughtfully, “I’ll have to check in the back. That’s not a common request.” She walked down a row and through a door at the back.

“Fire extinguishers?” asked Clarke, the translation spell giving her the literal meaning of the words, but not explaining what they meant.

“You’ll see,” brushed off Octavia, “They’ll help prevent any more fireballs in the house.”

Niylah returned carrying a large box full of red cylinders with black hoses attached.

“This is all I’ve got, sugar. I’m not one to question the Commander,” Octavia snorted and Niylah shot her a mock glare, “but why does she need so many fire extinguishers?”

“Clarke here is a bit of a firebug. There was a SNAFU at the Commander’s last night requiring some reconstruction. I think she’s trying more preventative measures from now on.”

“Makes sense, alrighty I suppose I should let y’all go on about your day. I’m sure you have plenty more to do. Clarke,” Niylah held Clarke’s hand warmly between both of her own, “it has been my pleasure to meet you,” Niylah’s voice lowered to a velvety purr on the word pleasure , “Octavia, don’t be a stranger,” with that she released Clarke’s hand and gave Octavia a hug.

“Don’t worry, Niy, you can’t get much stranger than me!” Octavia called over her shoulder as they left the store, Niylah’s laugh following them out.

“Holy shit I’m so hungry I could eat a cow,” exclaimed Octavia, and rubbed her belly, “wanna get some food?”

Clarke hadn’t eaten since the rabbit she caught and cooked for lunch the day before. She had gone hungry for longer than that in her life, but she would always take advantage of the opportunity for a meal. She nodded in agreement and Octavia set off down the sidewalk.

“There’s a great diner just down the street. I just realized! You’ve never had a burger, have you?” Clarke shook her head and Octavia clapped her hands in glee, “I can’t wait to see you try one! We have to make sure to get a little bit of everything so you can have the full experience.”

Octavia practically skipped the rest of the way to the diner. The sign on the windows read ‘Grounder’s’. It was a classic diner, striped vinyl booths, jukebox playing music in the corner--the song ‘What’s New Pussycat' had been forcibly removed after one quite memorable afternoon--and wrap-around windows lining the outside. They hopped up onto stools at the counter and Octavia slapped the countertop to get the owner’s attention.

“Hey, Miller, my dude!” a handsome dark-skinned man with short black hair and a neatly trimmed beard exchanged a series of complicated hand gestures with Octavia before slapping her on the back and pulling her in for a hug. These people really are touchy-feely, aren’t they, Clarke mused.

“Hey, O,” he returned, smiling broadly, “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Clarke, she’s the Commander’s newest project. She’s pretty much a total badass and will seriously fuck you up if you mess with her. Clarke, meet Nathan Miller, best goddamn cook in the whole state of Montana, other than his husband of course.”

Nathan Miller raised his eyebrow, obviously impressed by Octavia’s high praise. He extended a hand in greeting. She hesitantly stretched out her own hand and gave his a firm shake. Octavia grinned happily at Clarke’s progress.

“Look Miller, I’m gonna need a feast. I’m absolutely starving and Clarke’s taste buds are a little out-of-date. This will be her introduction to good food, so make it the best you’ve got.”

“I can definitely do that! Lemme go crack the whip at Bryan in the kitchen and then I’ll grab your drinks, an extra large Dr. Pepper for you, O, and for you, Clarke?”

“Why don’t we just fill a bunch of water cups with what you’ve got and we can try them all out,” Octavia answered for her.

Miller headed through the swinging kitchen door to fetch their drinks.

“Miller and his mate are both werewolves too. Them being gay is a bit of a sticking point for a lot of other packs. Damn misogynistic bastards, the lot of them,” muttered Octavia bitterly, “Miller and Bryan wandered into town about fifteen years ago and never left. I’m glad too, Bryan makes the best double bacon cheeseburger I’ve ever had!”

Miller came out of the kitchen balancing a tray with one huge plastic cup and a bunch of little ones. He set the tray on the counter and lined the smaller cups in front of Clarke.

“Okay, we’ve got chocolate milk, strawberry milk, Sprite, Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, Pineapple Fanta, root beer--that one’s locally made--Hi-C, blue Powerade, orange juice, apple juice, and apple beer.”

Clarke enjoyed trying all the different drinks, making a face at the bubbles in the soda and letting loose a gargantuan belch at the end. Miller and Octavia thoroughly delighted in all her reactions and made easy conversation about town gossip. Soon enough a bell rang from the back and Miller disappeared into the kitchen and returned with trays laden with food. A slender pale-skinned man with narrow features and sharp cheekbones accompanied him, holding yet more food. It all smelled divine and Clarke’s stomach released a loud rumble, making everyone laugh again.

“This gorgeous creature is my husband and mate, Bryan,” Miller said, pride and love beaming from his face as he introduced the other man, “and this is Clarke, newest addition to Aspen Creek.”

“Hiya Clarke, how are you liking town so far?” Bryan’s smile was kind and infectious.

Clarke had to swallow the food she’d been stuffing her face with before she could answer. She choked a bit, took a sip of chocolate milk, and cleared her throat. Her visit with Niylah had done wonders to help Clarke feel at ease around these wolves. She even forgot about their more monstrous side for the time being.

“It’s very different from where I grew up. I’ve never seen anything like what Octavia’s showed me today.”

“Oh yeah? Where did you grow up?”

Clarke clammed up at the question. She was far from ready to talk about her previous life with anyone. But I told Lexa about my father , Clarke thought, what makes her any different? Clarke still couldn’t bring herself to open that can of worms in front of virtual strangers. She shook her head slightly and kept on eating. It was meant as a deflection tactic, but she really did savor every bite. Bryan really was an excellent cook and everything was made to perfection. There were five different kinds of burgers, country-fried steak, crinkle-cut french fries, curly fries, three different kinds of pancakes, waffles, and more. Every type of food you could imagine being served at a diner had at least a small portion present. Miller and Bryan had gone all out with this one. Octavia wolfed--no pun intended--down enough food to feed a T-rex and there was still plenty for everyone else. Clarke moaned at how good it all was. Like everything nowadays it seems, it had been far too long since she’d eaten anything not cooked hastily over a campfire. She ate until her stomach bulged and begged for her to stop. She slumped over with her elbows on the counter, basking in the feeling of a full stomach. She’d probably regret eating so much rich food later, but living in the future had never been her style. Octavia stretched her back, arms extended overhead, and then patted her stomach, which was still bafflingly flat and toned.

“What did you think, Clarke?” asked Miller.

“Mmmm, I think I have never eaten anything as delicious as this,” Clarke answered contentedly.

“Well I hope you saved room for desert,” Bryan laughed.

Clarke's eyes widened as he brought out at least ten different slices of pie and five milkshakes. Octavia cheered and snagged one of the milkshakes for herself.

“So we got your basic apple pie, cherry, blueberry, rhubarb, mixed berry, banana creme, chocolate, pumpkin, pecan, and last but not least, key-lime pie. For the milkshakes, we have chocolate--though it looks like Octavia’s claimed that one--, vanilla, strawberry, caramel which is my personal favorite, and cookies-and-creme,” Bryan pointed to each one in turn.

Clarke’s head spun with the effects of a food coma and the thought of eating more. She barely managed to pick her fork back up--it had taken her a bit to get used to using one--and break off a piece of each pie. She thought the endeavor was worth it though as each pie exploded with flavor. Most of the pies were too sweet for her, but she took a liking to the rhubarb and even managed a second bite. The milkshakes were easier to work on, but she still left most of each for Octavia, who gladly emptied them all. After finishing the food, they lingered at the diner chatting and gossiping, while Clarke rested her head on her arms and listened. She liked Miller and Bryan. They clearly loved each other and the diner. They were warm, friendly, and Clarke felt more relaxed knowing she didn’t have to worry about them trying anything with her. In her experience, males were predators, taking advantage of perceived weakness and targeting vulnerable women and children. She’d lived through it enough both in her village and in Underhill. These men were certainly predators, but only in the literal sense of them being wolves; they were kind and funny and unashamed of being themselves. They didn’t have the wanton lust in their eyes that most men she met did when they saw Clarke’s attractiveness. Clarke drowsed, lulled into a half-sleep by her full belly and the pleasant hum of conversation. She realized she didn’t feel half as irritated with Octavia’s voice as she had when the girl had first picked her up. Eventually  Octavia noticed Clarke’s semi-comatose state and wrapped their conversation up. She hugged both men, repeating the same complicated handshake with Miller as when they first walked in. She lifted Clarke off the stool, pleased to note that Clarke didn’t flinch this time, and they walked back to the car.

Chapter Text

Lexa sat in her office with the door open, combing through pack reports. Several more packs surrounding her territory were reporting missing wolves and humans. The Glowing Forest pack, Broad Leaf pack, Rock Line pack, and Blue Cliff pack all had at least two or three wolves that had disappeared and more that had been killed mysteriously, ripped to pieces. Lexa was frustrated with some of the Alphas, Rock Line and Broad Leaf especially. Those Alphas had neglected to include the missing wolves and humans in their previous reports. They had always been troublesome for her. They were effective Alphas, but too ingrained with prehistoric viewpoints. They flaunted her authority any way they could without earning a death sentence. Lexa was going to have to replace them soon. Maybe she’ll send Anya to do some recon and find some good substitutes. And maybe getting their asses handed to them on a platter would teach them to respect women.

She was trying to narrow down a middle point between all the disappearances. It seemed like they occurred mostly north, near the Canadian border, but the attacks were still too sporadic to be sure. She couldn’t figure out why anyone would be kidnapping wolves, much less how they were doing it. Werewolves had incredibly fast metabolisms which prevented them from being drugged for very long. It takes enough tranquilizers to knock out a bull elephant just to keep them down for ten minutes. Restraints were a no-go as well. Most werewolves could easily break out of anything unless it was treated with silver. Silver burned like acid against werewolves’ skin and weakened them significantly. Keeping a wolf still long enough to get silver on them, though, was quite difficult. Wolves were stronger, faster, and far more vicious than any human could hope to be. 

It could possibly be vampires. They could take most werewolves one on one in speed and strength. Many of them could also enthrall wolves if they managed to snare their gaze. As far as Lexa knew, however, the closest seethe was in Seattle. Rural Montana and southern Canada didn’t have much in the way of sustenance when it came to vampires. Most of them liked to skulk in dense population centers where people were plentiful and easy to access. Witches were another possibility, but Lexa hadn’t felt any black magic on the thing’s, the Reaper’s --the name seemed appropriate for such bringers of death--corpse and had never heard of any spell that could halt a shift halfway like that. Her father’s witchborn blood and her mother’s natural magic gave her the ability to sense different kinds of magic and provided some resistances to spells. If the Reaper had been created through blood magic, Lexa should have been able to sense it.

Her reverie was broken when she heard the front door open. Frustrated with the lack of progress, Lexa decided it would be a good time for a break. Besides, she wanted to hear how Clarke’s day went. She strode downstairs in time to see Octavia half carrying a drowsy Clarke through the living room.

“Here, let me take her,” Lexa said, going over to Octavia and taking Clarke into her arms, “the contractors said to keep people out of the first floor bedrooms until they could assess the damage. She can sleep upstairs for now.”

Tingling skin marked every place it came into contact with Clarke. She swept Clarke into a bridal carry, Clarke letting out a sleepy squeal of surprise at the sudden motion, and carried her up to her bedroom. She set the blonde on one side of her king-size bed and pulled the covers down on the other side. Picking Clarke up again, she laid her on the sheets and tucked her in snugly. Clarke hummed in pleasure and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Lexa couldn’t help but pause to brush some hair out of Clarke’s eyes before closing the door and returning to Octavia. She found her lounging on a barstool at the kitchen island. The small werewolf had managed to balance the chair on two legs and was hovering there when Lexa walked in.

“So, how did the day go?” Lexa asked, leaning against a wall behind Octavia. Octavia jumped in surprise and just barely caught herself from falling on her ass. Lexa contained a mischievous grin behind her impassive mask.

“Fuck, I forget how quiet you are. You’re like a damn ninja.”

Lexa lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

“Alright, alright. The day went pretty well. I took her to Raven’s first, which in hindsight was definitely not the best idea. Raven got a little over-excited when she learned Clarke could light herself up like a match on command and grabbed her. Clarke defended herself, but Aden arrived late to the party and thought Clarke was attacking Raven, so he came to her rescue. Clarke wiped the floor with him and I was able to intervene before things got bad. Oh, that reminds me, I need to talk to Anya about Aden’s training. He’s a sloppy fighter, though he has great potential. We also went to Grounder’s and Miller and Bryan treated us to a proper feast.”

Sister Wolf laughed at Octavia’s description of her wildfire wiping the floor with the others and was pleased she had also been well-fed. She had been unhealthily gaunt, made even more apparent after her shower. Clarke is not ours, Wolf, she has made that perfectly clear, Lexa admonished. Sister Wolf didn’t pay the human any mind. Lexa tuned back in to what Octavia was saying.

“...to Niylah’s and got her all set for clothes and stuff. She seemed to take quite a shine on our resident Omega. I think Niylah sensed how battered and edgy Clarke was and let loose some Omega calming mojo. She was definitely handsy enough for Clarke to get a huge dose of it,” Octavia peered slyly at Lexa, feigning nonchalance as she leaned her chair onto two legs again.

Lexa’s jaw clenched, leaving white lines along her cheeks. Sister Wolf had her hackles up and started growling at the thought of someone else’s hands on her Clarke. Not yours, reminded Lexa, unconvincingly. Her hands balled into fists where they were hidden beneath crossed arms. In an attempt to calm herself, Lexa moved to stand across from Octavia and spread her hands flat against the marble countertop. Enjoying the normally unflappable Commander’s aggravation, she continued.

“Niylah helped Clarke pick out a bunch of outfits and figure out how to wear them. Did you know that she didn’t even know how to use a bra? Niylah had to help her unwrap her archaic breast band thing and teach her how to properly put one on.”

Every new word made Lexa clench her teeth harder; Octavia could hear them creaking in distress. Her breath was absolutely steady and perfectly measured, a sure sign that she was pissed. Octavia had to mask her glee and kept talking.

“Yeah, Niylah had to do the whole boob-lift thing and everything. Clarke definitely seemed to enjoy herself, she even blushed! And then she kept finding excuses to have Niylah touch her, like pretending she didn’t know how to tie her shoes, even though I saw the intricate knots on those furs and knew she could tie them herself perfectly well. You know, I think Niylah would be a really good fit for Clarke. Clarke freaked out everytime anyone touched her except when it came to her. She actually relaxed! Between the Omega-high and the food coma, I’m not surprised Clarke is conked out.”

A loud crack sounded. Lexa looked down and realized her curled fingers had punched right through the marble, leaving deep, claw-like gouges in the stone.

“Thank you, Octavia. I think now would be the perfect time to go have that conversation with Anya you mentioned,” Lexa’s voice was deceptively calm, her pitch perfectly neutral. It scared the absolute shit out of Octavia.

Octavia let her stool drop onto all four legs with a thump and skedaddled as fast as she could out the front door. Damn, that woman is scary, Octavia thought, but it was so totally worth it to see the look on the Commander’s face!

Lexa breathed in and out, trying to keep her composure. She failed. She slammed her fist into the marble, once, twice. Over and over until the kitchen island was a pile of rubble. She let out a roar of anger, eyes bright with Sister Wolf. She couldn’t lose control, not now. Not when Sister Wolf was so eager for blood. MINE, NO ONE is allowed to touch her but US! How DARE she enjoy the touch of another wolf! Sister Wolf raged inside, wanting to race down to Niylah’s shop and show that wolf who was Alpha. Lexa paced the floor in a circle trying to calm herself. Her wolf wasn’t the only one who was angry. I thought we had something this morning! I thought I was getting through, but apparently I’m not good enough. All it takes is a couple of touches from that Omega bitch and she’s putty! Lexa knew she was being unfair. Niylah had been nothing but wonderful. She was a practical woman and unfailingly loyal. Aspen Creek wouldn’t be able to function without her. But she touched our Clarke , Sister Wolf half whined/half snarled, and Clarke enjoyed it! Betrayal washed over Lexa from Sister Wolf. I know, Sister, I know. But Clarke is her own woman. We cannot expect her to trust us yet. She has obviously been through major trauma, Lexa tried to be rational. 

Her rage and frustration and betrayal was overpowering though. Lexa strode out the back door, sliding it open so hard that it shattered. She stomped across the deck and down to the forest edge. She needed to hit something, usually she would use her personal sandbags at the gym, but she knew she would destroy them too quickly in her current state. She let her fists fly into a thick tree trunk, splinters flying from the impact. With every hit, she let out a grunt of fury, eyes blazing and lips pulled back in a grimace. She let Sister Wolf slip out a little, feeling her canines sharpen and her nails lengthen to claws. She used those claws to slash oozing furrows into the hard wood of the tree. Soon enough the tree crashed to the ground, so she moved on to another one. She demolished five more trees before her fury slackened to a less frenzied state. She began flowing through martial arts katas, starting with the most aggressive and working her way down from there, the repetitive patterns helping her relax. She fluidly spun, punched, and kicked at the tree, hitting with exacting precision. She backflipped off the tree to an open strip of grass. Her movements evolved into the leaping, tumbling movements of capoeira. Her mind cleared as she had to focus all of her attention on the complicated flips and acrobatics of the Brazilian martial art. It wasn’t the most effective combat form, but it helped build her flexibility and speed. She glided through the air like a blade, every motion perfect and streamlined. She kept her eyes closed, trusting her other senses to alert her of any dangers. Gradually, she slowed, transitioning to the calm, deliberate motions of tai chi. She finally came to a stop with both feet together and hands meeting in front of her chest. Her stillness radiated serenity, her mind was as smooth and calm as an untroubled mountain lake. She stayed that way for several heartbeats, feeling intimately connected to the living spirits of the forests and life around her.

Her mother’s father had taught her about the spirits. They were present in anything that had existed for a long time. The trees, the plants, even the mountains themselves developed spirits. The spirits weren’t exactly consciousnesses, they were more of the essence of those objects. They formed a web connecting everything to each other. Everything existed in a delicate, intricate balance that Lexa did her best to tune into and preserve. She tried to model her methods of leadership after this principle of balance and interconnectedness. She did her best to pick the Alphas that would complement the structure of each pack without disrupting the natural harmony of the whole. It was extraordinarily difficult to achieve, but she would never stop trying.

Finally at peace once more, she pulled off her shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from her face and the blood streaking down her arms from already healed knuckles before looking up at the window where she knew Clarke was standing, watching her. She smiled, a real one this time, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Clarke returned the smile, hers more subdued but in no way less sincere. Lexa walked over to a shed at the side of the house and pulled out an axe. She didn’t plan on letting the destruction she’d inflicted on the forest to go to waste. The town could always use more firewood. A chainsaw would be more efficient at carving up the trees, but Sister Wolf’s pride had been wounded. She needed to prove to everyone (to Clarke) how powerful she was, how much more magnificent a creature she was than anyone else in the pack (than Niylah). She began swinging the axe, chopping each tree into manageable chunks. Lexa let Sister Wolf soothe her bruised ego with every satisfying thunk of the axe in wood. She knew Clarke had come out onto the deck and was leaning against the railing, watching her. She might have flexed her arms a little more than necessary, might have brought the axe higher above her head to display her taut stomach and abs before swinging it down to cleave the trunk in pieces. Yes, Sister Wolf knew exactly how appealing their form was and she was going to flaunt it with everything she’s got.

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Clarke woke gradually. She stretched out languidly on the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of being well-rested. She didn’t recognize where she was at first, but as she sat up, she realized she had been here before. She’d walked through this room to get to that incredible bathing room. This must be Lexa’s room , she realized, how did I get up here? She vaguely recalled falling asleep in Octavia’s car after that magnificent feast and phenomenal visit to Niylah’s. She should probably be more bothered by how strongly the Omega had affected her, but she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the glorious mood she was in. A flash of movement out the window caught Clarke’s attention. She rolled out of the sinfully comfortable bed and looked to see a certain brunette mauling a tree. Lexa’s fists smashed into the tree, shattering bark and wood. She observed as Lexa decimated five more trees with unfettered ferocity. Clarke couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer might Lexa exhibited. She’d seen Fae with this kind of strength, but the Fae were otherworldly, inhuman. Lexa had seemed much closer to humanity then they, but now Clarke wasn’t sure. No mere human could have destroyed those trees with such efficiency. Either way, Clarke was floored by the demonstration of brute force, floored and maybe just a little...turned on? Hmm, well what do you know, the Commander’s got anger issues.

She continued watching as Lexa progressed from raw aggression to more methodical motions. They looked almost ritualized, patterns that Lexa had obviously executed countless times. Her form was flawless, each strike hitting with precision. Clarke could see blood running down Lexa’s arms from her fists, but Lexa didn’t seem to even notice. She had laser-like focus on the target in front of her, nothing else around her mattered. After a while of this, she flowed away from the tree with a back handstand turned flip. She continued gliding across the lawn in some combination of acrobatics and combat. She moved with the grace of a professional dancer and the lethality of an assassin. The brief moments Clarke could see Lexa’s face, it was utterly tranquil. There was no tension in her body, no strain in her fluid movements. She was breathtaking.

Lexa slowed, coming to a stop facing the house, eyes closed and hands folded together in front of her chest. Clarke’s gaze had been fixated on her the entire time Lexa was in motion, barely breathing and rarely blinking. Lexa removed her shirt and used it to clean herself up a bit, getting the sweat out of her eyes and some of the drying blood off her arms. Then she looked up at Clarke as if she had been aware that she’d been watching during the whole thing. Clarke gulped slightly as Lexa gave her a wide, genuine smile, the first of its kind she’d seen on Lexa’s face. She offered a smaller one of her own before turning away and starting downstairs.  She halted in the doorway of the kitchen as she saw the mess. It looked like a raging ogre had bulldozed the countertop and crashed through the glass back door.

She skirted gingerly around the mess and hopped over the glass shards coating the floor. She wandered out onto the deck, expecting Lexa to be heading inside. She was a little surprised to see her hacking at the fallen trees with an axe. She leaned against the deck railing and tipped her head to the side, admiring the view. Lexa’s arms flexed as she brought the axe down on the tree, over and over. Sweat slid freely down the sculpted lines of Lexa’s back and stomach. Clarke wasn’t a weakling by any means, but Lexa put her to shame. Her body was the pinnacle of muscled perfection. Such a level of physical prowess was impossible to achieve in one lifetime. It must have been an effect of her werewolf condition. Clarke felt as though she’d never tire of admiring such an enticing specimen.

Eventually, Lexa finished chopping the trunks into sizable logs and stacking them in a pile near the stumps. She ambled up to Clarke and stood with her hands on her hips looking up at her.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, her silken voice caressing Clarke’s skin, “I believe you are drooling.”

Flushing strawberry red, Clarke swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. By Thor’s hairy balls, this woman is going to be the death of me! Clarke hadn’t noticed Lexa approaching her on the deck until she leaned on the railing next to her, back and elbows against the rail and facing the house. Lexa smelled of good, clean sweat and pine sap. Gods, it was intoxicating. Clarke was unaware of her rising pulse until Lexa cocked her head and spoke.

“Clarke, are you alright?”

“Uh ye-yeah, I’m good, fine, great, just dandy,” Clarke stammered.

A coy smirk slid onto Lexa’s lips and her eyes glittered with roguish intent.

“Oh really,” Lexa shifted nearer to her, angling to face her head-on, hip cocked against the rail, “then what is the reason for your rapid heart rate?”

“I-I-I, um,” Clarke licked her lips, eyes flicking down to Lexa’s own lips and back up into her eyes, eyes that were sparkling emerald with her wolf, “nu-nothing, just, you know, enjoying the view?”

“Hmmm,” Lexa purred, leaning in close enough for Clarke to feel her breath brush across her ear, causing goosebumps to prickle down her neck and back, “and what view is that?”

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed, eyes flicking back down to Lexa’s lips and staying there.

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Whatever Clarke was going to do next was interrupted abruptly by The Black Keys “Howling For You” blaring from Lexa’s phone. Lexa let out a growl of irritation and answered it without breaking Clarke’s gaze.

“ Chit yu gaf, Gostos? ”

“ Moba, Heda ,” Gustus replied, sounding slightly troubled, which was huge when coming from him, “We just had a wolf return from patrol raving about monsters. There is no sign of the three other wolves sent out with him.”

“ Jok ,” Lexa swore fervently, “How long ago did this wolf say they were attacked?”

“He hasn’t said anything clear, Heda .”

“Okay, where are you? I will come to you as soon as possible.”

“We took him to Doc’s clinic. He didn’t seem injured, but we wanted to be sure.”

“I will be there in ten minutes,” she hung up and strode inside hastily, Clarke trailing close behind.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke asked, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Maybe another Reaper attack,” and then more quietly to herself, “why did I not feel anything through the pack bonds? I felt it when the Blakes were attacked, so why didn’t I feel this?”

Lexa stretched her mind down the filaments of magic connecting her to each of her wolves. Everything felt right and intact, except in three cases. The bonds attaching her to Quint, Diggs, and Harper were clamped down tight and felt sluggish, almost as if the wolves had been drugged. But that shouldn’t be possible, Lexa thought with alarm. No it should not , Sister Wolf growled, you should hurry, hopefully this wolf has some actually useful information.

Lexa mounted her bike in the garage and threw the helmet to Clarke. Clarke put it on without hesitation and climbed on the bike behind her.

“Hold on tight, Clarke,” Lexa advised, starting her bike and racing out of the garage.

Both Sister Wolf and Lexa were too focused on getting to the clinic to enjoy Clarke’s taut grip around her waist. Lexa sped as fast as she safely could into town and skid to a stop in front of the white-washed brick building, hopping off the bike and jogging inside. There she found Nyko, Gustus, and Anya all standing around a trembling body slumped in an office chair. Jok, of course it’s Finn, skrish! Finn sat in the chair, babbling, the scent of fear cloyingly thick in the air. Lexa crossed to Finn and crouched in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She sent the power of her dominance down their bond, the tension easing out of his shoulders gradually as his wolf relaxed in the safety of his Alpha.

“Finn, tell me what happened,” Lexa pressed, Alpha authority rich in her voice.

“They’re dead! They’re all dead. They killed them,” Finn continued babbling. Lexa snapped the fingers of her free hand in front of his face, startling a flinch from him. He looked up into Lexa’s eyes and this time Sister Wolf allowed it.

“Breathe, Finn.”

“Okay okay, we were patrolling the northern edge of the territory when out of nowhere a bunch of freakish beasts jumped us. They attacked the others and I ran back as fast as I could to get help. I shifted while I ran. It slowed me down but I needed to be able to talk when I got here.”

Anya growled lowly at Finn’s admission of cowardice. Lexa threw her a sharp glare and signalled her to be quiet.

“You did the right thing, Finn. Now what else can you tell me about the attack.”

“I didn’t see anything else,” Finn said with a canine whine, “it all happened so fast.”

“Close your eyes,” commanded Lexa, “breathe slowly as I count. In for a count of four. Hold for a count of eight...and exhale for a count of seven.”

She ran through the exercise a few times before Finn’s breathing evened out.

“Keep your eyes closed and go back to the attack. Do not panic, you are here, you are safe. Now, tell me, what do you hear?”

“I-I hear snarling from the beasts and the sound of Quint and Harper fighting.”

“Only two? What about Diggs?”

“No, no, I think I heard him drop. He was on the ground when I turned tail.”

“Did you hear anything else? Think, Finn. You know the rhythm of these woods, what doesn’t fit?”

Finn inhaled deeply, sniffing the air as he replayed what had happened in his head.

“There was something else. It sounded like, like that time we all went paintballing as a pack. You know the puff of compressed air when you fired a paintball gun? And I think I smelled something sharp and sweet. It’s hard to tell with the smell of those monsters, but I don’t recognize the other smell at all.”

“Good, is there anything else?”

“Let’s see, I think I heard this horrible high-pitched noise as I ran away. I remember it hurt my ears and it sounded like it was coming from back where the fight was. I’m sorry, Commander, that’s all I can remember.”

“Thank you, Finn. You have been of great help. Go get something to eat. Tell Miller at Grounder’s to put your meal on my tab,” she dismissed Finn and he fled, tail (figuratively) tucked between his legs.

Lexa rose to her feet and turned to Anya.

“Anya, take Ryder and five other wolves to the scene. Follow Finn’s trail if you need to, he would have taken the most direct route back to town. You stay in human shape and call me as soon as you get there. If there is a clear trail, follow the Reapers to wherever they came from, but do not take any unnecessary risks. We need you too much right now to risk you being hurt too. It feels as if the wolves have been drugged somehow. Hopefully they have only been kidnapped. We would have felt their deaths through the pack bonds, so they must still be alive.”

“Yes, Commander,” Anya replied, not questioning Lexa’s name for the beasts, and turned and sprinted out of the building.

“Gustus, gather all of the town in the Meeting Hall. We need to get a handle on this before rumors spread out of control. We do not need any half-assed rescue missions breaking up the pack.”

“ Sha, Heda . I will start calling the phone tree,” he too left the room, already dialing a number into his phone.

“Nyko, tell me. Have you found anything on the corpse that could be useful?”

“Reapers? Is that what we’re calling them now? To answer your question, yes the results of the swab and blood test came in right before Finn appeared. There were several chemicals in the blood that I couldn’t identify, but they were definitely not natural. The swab had trace evidence of the same chemicals, though in a less degraded state. This is just a hypothesis, but I believe that these compounds could be responsible for the deterioration we saw in the brain.”

“Good, Nyko, is there anything else that can be done to identify what those chemicals are?”

“I would have to take some time to figure something out, but I will do my best, Commander.”

“I trust you, Doc. You are the best we have. Call me as soon as you get anything.”

“Of course,” with that he returned to the lab in the morgue to continue trying to find answers.

As soon as everyone had left the room, Lexa drooped into the chair Finn had vacated. Clarke, having stayed in the hall for the conversation, walked in and sat down in front of Lexa. Putting a hand on Lexa’s knee, she peered up into her face.

“Lexa?”

“Yes, Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was tired.

“What can I do?”

Lexa met Clarke’s gaze. She was a little surprised to see a genuine desire to help in her eyes. There was a fire burning in them, not the literal kind she was capable of summoning, but the kind that originates in the soul. It was the blaze of determination and deep compassion. No wonder she hasn’t broken , Lexa thought, she has a soul of steel and the fire to match . Yes, she is beautiful, isn’t she? She might bend, but our little flame will never break. Lexa was nodding in agreement, absent-mindedly.

“Lexa?” Gods, she could never get tired of hearing this woman’s raspy voice saying her name. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lexa replied.

“Unfortunately, I do not believe there is anything you or I can do at the moment. We must wait until we have more solid information before we can act. Let’s head to the Meeting Hall. I must prepare what I will say to the town.”

Clarke’s hand squeezed Lexa’s knee in comfort before standing. She held out her hand to Lexa in an offer to help her up. Lexa took it, though she rose easily without putting any weight on Clarke. Lexa held her hand for a moment longer and then walked out to her bike. She handed the helmet to Clarke and they both mounted the bike. Lexa drove slowly to the Meeting Hall in the failing evening light, deep in contemplation.

Chapter Text

“We have recently made some troubling discoveries. Last night, two of our wolves were attacked by a single unknown creature, which we have decided to designate as ‘Reapers’. They were successful in fending off the attack and we were able to retrieve the corpse of this creature. As of a couple of hours ago, more of these creatures attacked another of our patrols. One wolf was able to escape and bring us news of this. Quint, Harper, and Diggs have all gone missing, but they are still alive, as far as we can tell. I know this news is distressing, but be assured that we are doing everything in our power to determine where these attacks are coming from and who the perpetrators are. In the interest of pack safety, movements out of town are to be restricted to patrols. Each of you wolves will be receiving new patrol routes, so check your emails before going out on patrol. If you see or sense anything suspicious, anything at all, report directly to Anya or Gustus. Do not try to follow any unknown scents. We hunt as a pack or not at all. Anyone found to be in violation of these new rules will be severely disciplined.”

Lexa was the picture of a commanding Alpha. She stood tall on the dais in front of her throne, head held high, hands clasped behind her back. She had on black combat gear, tight-fitting, long sleeve muscle shirt tucked neatly into grey tactical pants and black military-grade combat boots. She had on her full mask of warpaint and Heda medallion. Just before arriving at the Meeting Hall, Lexa had decided to make a detour back at the cabin to gear up for her speech. A new outfit wasn’t necessary for the meeting, but it made a damn good impression. Clarke wasn’t a wolf, but even she felt the aura of authority and command emanating from Lexa. This was The Commander in all her glory. Seeing her like this, it wasn’t hard to imagine how she had become the Alpha of all alphas. Clarke settled against a wall at the back of the Hall, observing the motley collection of townsfolk filling the space. She could tell the wolves from others by the anger flooding off them at the mention of the missing wolves and Reaper attacks. The non-wolves mostly looked shocked and maybe even a little scared. They were used to the werewolves being the strongest monsters around, the idea that someone could take down at least four wolves with little effort was worrying. Clarke meticulously scanned the room for any individuals displaying reactions incongruous with the information being given. That ambush on the patrol was too well planned, went off too smoothly to be purely chance. Clarke suspected a traitor.

At the end of her speech, Lexa released an eerie howl, the sound of it rising to the rafters of the Hall. One-by-one every wolf joined in, a chorus of wolfish howls echoing from human throats. Chills skittered down Clarke’s spine at the uncanny cry. She saw even some of the other townspeople trying to imitate the hunting cry. It swelled in the air, spilling out into the darkening night beyond.

Lexa dismissed the pack and townsfolk. Several wandered up to her with questions and concerns. She took the time to listen to each individual and patiently answer every one. It took at least an extra hour after the meeting’s end for the building to empty completely. Clarke lingered in the shadows waiting. Lexa accompanied the last concerned individual to the door of the Hall and Clarke followed them out. Lexa stood by her bike, arms folded, head bowed in thought. Clarke walked up behind her and waited for Lexa to say something.

“You see it too, don’t you Clarke,” Lexa’s soft voice drifted into the cold autumn night air.

“See what?”

“All of this, it is too clean, too organized. These Reaper attacks are not random. Our patrols are being targeted. Someone is holding the Reapers’ leashes, the Reapers themselves are nothing but beasts, tools in some unfortunately capable hands,” Lexa finally turned to face Clarke, expression grim and lips drawn, “I could tell by the way you searched the crowd. You think someone in the pack, one of my wolves, is a traitor,” she stepped up right in front of Clarke, “and as much as it pains me to say it, I believe you are correct.”

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When Lexa and Clarke arrived at the cabin, they entered and found the house full of werewolves. Pack members lounged on couches, wrestled on the floor, and hung out in the kitchen making brownies, though cooking in that mess was somewhat of an extreme sport. Lexa’s house was just as much of a haven for her wolves as any other Alpha’s. When things were uncertain, the werewolves of the Aspen Creek pack congregated in the safety and companionship of other pack members. They needed the company of the others’ to keep themselves calm and soothe their anxiety. Lexa walked through the house, greeting her wolves with reassuring words and light touches. Clarke remained in the entryway, apprehensive of the rowdy atmosphere. She could see the subdued joy in Lexa’s face as she performed her role of confident Alpha supporting her collection of misfits. She could tell that Lexa loved these people and took pride in being their protector. A soft smile blossomed on Clarke’s own face as she watched this dynamic woman finding simple pleasure in helping others. She wiped the expression off her face before anyone but Octavia noticed her moment of weakness.

Lexa finished her rounds, making sure to acknowledge every person present. Clarke saw Lexa looking for her and stepped into the room a little more to catch her eye. Lexa came over to her and held out her hand. Clarke only stared at it for a moment or two before Lexa slowly reached forward, stopping just shy of touching Clarke’s fingers. She looked into Clarke’s eyes and tilted her head slightly, silently asking for permission to touch her hand. Clarke closed the distance and slid her hand into Lexa’s firm grasp. Lexa’s lips twitched into a brief smile and she led Clarke to the stairs, skirting the edges of the crowd and slightly shielding Clarke from view. It warmed Clarke’s heart to see how Lexa instinctively knew the best way to ease Clarke’s apprehension around such a large group of predators. They climbed the stairs and entered Lexa’s room, Lexa making sure to close the door behind them. Clarke was confused as to why Lexa had brought her here. Lexa had mentioned that the first floor rooms were unfit to be occupied, but Clarke expected to be given another guest room. She looked at Lexa with confusion evident in her expression.

“My office and bedroom are the only rooms in the house that are completely soundproof. My pack will most likely be here for a while and they are a noisy bunch. I thought that you might appreciate some peace and quiet to rest. I took the liberty of storing your new clothes in here until you can pick out a new room for yourself,” Lexa clarified as she crossed to her closet and opened it to display neatly arranged stacks of Clarke’s clothing.

“If I’m sleeping here, where’re you going to be?” Clarke challenges, doubtful of the motives behind Lexa’s kind gestures.

“If it is acceptable to you, I will stay here and keep watch. I believe it may be wise for you not to be alone while you sleep, at least until we can be sure you won’t be setting any more beds on fire,” humor bled through Lexa’s matter-of-fact tone.

Clarke wasn’t sure whether she should be amused or offended by Lexa’s gentle teasing. It had been a long time since humor at her expense had been a harmless thing. Tilly’s version of humor usually involved sharp objects and Clarke fleeing for her life. Clarke decided to merely ignore it and moved to lay down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Clarke? You are more than welcome to the bed. I would be a terrible host if I made my guest sleep on the floor.”

“But if I’m on the bed, where will you sleep? It would tip the scales unfairly for me to take your place. I have nothing to offer in return. I can’t put myself further in your debt.”

“I see your point. What if we shared the bed? That way no one would be displaced and you wouldn’t owe me anything in exchange.”

Clarke froze at Lexa’s suggestion. She had been worried that this would happen. She could tell that Lexa was attracted to her. It wouldn’t be the first time someone offered her kindness in exchange for favors she was unwilling to give. She had started to trust Lexa. Lexa had been sincere and forthright in every aspect of her life. She didn’t hide who or what she was, or so Clarke had thought. Here is the monster hiding under the beautiful face, Clarke thought cynically, I’m a fool to think this world would be any different from Underhill .

Lexa seemed to recognize Clarke’s discomfort and rising anxiety. Damn wolf bitch can probably smell it on me . She held up one finger in a ‘wait a second’ motion before moving into the bathroom. Clarke stayed exactly where she was, disconcerted by Lexa’s strange behavior. About a minute later, a wolf paced out from where Lexa had disappeared. Clarke readied herself for the terror she had felt when the Blakes appeared, but was surprised when no fear materialized. This wolf was smaller than Octavia or Bellamy had been, closer in size to an actual timber wolf. She couldn’t have weighed more than 200 pounds. Clarke understood now where Lexa had gotten the inspiration for her warpaint. The exact same pattern adorned her face in midnight black fur. The black fur on her feet and back contrasted magnificently with her copper red coat. Her tail was tipped in coal, looking like she had accidentally dipped her tail in a can of paint. Lexa was gorgeous as a human and absolutely breathtaking as a wolf. 

Lexa padded slowly up to Clarke and sat on her haunches a foot or so away. She cocked her head in an unmistakably Lexa gesture and yipped softly. Clarke felt drawn to the wolf, like iron to a magnet. She tentatively stretched out a hand and smiled when Lexa pressed her head into the palm. Clarke giggled as Lexa’s tail thumped on the wood floor when she scratched a spot behind her ear. Once Clarke had relaxed, Lexa nudged her with her nose towards the bed. When Clarke resisted, the wolf planted her head in Clarke’s abdomen and pushed her back until her knees hit the edge of the bed. Lexa gave one last bump and Clarke flopped onto the bed with a thump. Lexa opened her jaws and let her tongue loll out in a wolfish laugh. Clarke couldn’t help but laugh along at Lexa’s goofy expression. She pulled her legs onto the bed and waited for Lexa to leap up next to her, but instead the wolf went to the closet and pulled out a pair of pjs. She carried them over to the bed in her jaws and dropped them in Clarke’s lap. Then she turned around in a circle before lying on the floor and, very deliberately, covering her eyes with her front paws. Clarke got the hint and changed into the pajamas, tossing her dirty clothes to the side. She cleared her throat when she was done to let Lexa know. Lexa moved a paw slightly and peeked out to make sure Clarke was fully clothed before enthusiastically leaping onto the bed and curling up at the foot of it. Clarke chuckled again and tucked herself under the covers. Lexa jumped back off the bed and pawed the light switch to turn it off, returning to her spot on the blankets. Clarke was lulled to sleep by the soft snores of a sleeping wolf.

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Yellow wolf eyes shone in the cold dimness, a taunting laugh echoing off dirt walls surrounding her; wrenching pain tore through her wrists and shoulders as cruel hands shoved her roughly, setting her swinging as she dangled from chain-like roots; blood drenched silver-veined white marble floors, beastly teeth ripping into flesh accompanying horrified screams; white bone gruesomely splayed out from a mangled back, a face contorted in pure agony and accusation; all your fault , ghastly voices whispered, you killed us, we died because you were too weak to save us, weak, powerless, helpless ; high, silvery laughter; weak, you are nothing, why didn’t you save us ; the taste of blood thick on her tongue as her ruined vocal chords still attempted to cry out; burning, she was burning, searing heat consuming her from the inside. 

She writhed, trying to escape the nightmares of her past. A warm body pressed up against her back. Instinctively, she rolled over, burying her tear-soaked face in soft fur smelling of sandalwood and cinnamon, with a hint of crisp autumn apples. She sobbed out all of her fear and sorrow and despair and helpless rage, muffling her cries in the thick pelt. A low soothing rumble vibrated through her body, originating from the comforting warmth enveloping her. Feeling completely spent, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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Around three AM, Lexa crept out of the bed, carefully extricating herself from Clarke’s embrace. She had woken to quiet whimpers and frantic writhing, the acrid scent of fear clogging her nose. Clarke had been keening mournfully in her sleep. Her face had been twisted in such anguish that it broke Lexa’s heart. She had scooted up and stretched her long wolf body along Clarke’s back. Clarke had instantly clung to her and wept into her fur. Lexa had begun a rumbling purr, hoping it would lull Clarke back to sleep. Eventually, the troubled blonde had worn herself out and sunk into an untroubled sleep.

Lexa shifted to human, wearing a grey tank top and black pants. She padded silently downstairs, opening and closing the door soundlessly behind her. Anya was resting on a leather couch, eating a huge brownie.

“Anya, what did you find?”

“We were able to reach the ambush site without difficulty and easily caught the trail of the Reapers. We followed it for a couple miles before it vanished,” she made a ‘poof’ motion with the hand not holding the brownie, “we canvassed the area where we lost the scent and found a series of old mining tunnels. Still no scent, but the earth was disturbed like someone was trying to cover their tracks. I’ve never lost a scent like that, Lexa. No witch magic, no chemicals, nothing. We did manage to find a dart at the ambush scene. It had blood on the tip; I’m guessing one of our wolves got hit and the dart was knocked loose during the fight. I’ve already given it to Nyko. Hopefully he can figure out whatever the fuck it is that they’re knocking wolves out with.”

“Was there any trace of the sharp sweet smell that Finn mentioned?”

“Not that we could tell. There were no signs of anything other than a bunch of Reapers. How are they getting those things anyway?”

“I’ve been receiving reports from Alphas in packs near this area. Wolves have been going missing for the past several weeks, humans too. I would have known about this sooner if some of these damn Alphas would take their heads out of their asses,” anger seeped into Lexa’s previously emotionless tone at the mention of the insubordinate Alphas.

“So what now?”

“We wait. We have nothing to go on other than the corpse, the dart, and the tunnels you found. The tunnels are just as likely to be a trap as they are to lead to the culprits. Nyko is working as fast as he can on analyzing the other clues. In the meantime, I will need you and Gustus to organize the pack and whatever non-wolves are willing into training groups.”

“We can do that. I’ll arrange the groups and draw up a training schedule.”

“That sounds good. Now, go get some rest, Anya. You’ve earned it.”

Anya rose from the couch, punched Lexa tiredly in the shoulder, and trudged upstairs. Lexa headed into her office and started scouring through the reports and new information from Anya. Hours passed as she puzzled out who could be responsible and where they could be camped out. She pulled out old maps of the area, looking for abandoned mines or tunnel systems. She pinned her main map up on a wall and marked potential base locations. The map was soon covered with marker circles, straightedge lines, and colored push pins. Stepping back, she tried to make sense of what she’d made. She was hoping that a pattern would emerge, pointing to the heart of the problem. The most likely locations were the old silver mines in Mount Weather, an abandoned military base in a valley near Rainbow Peak, and a copper mine that had been deserted seventy-five years ago. The problem was that the tunnel system Anya had found didn’t connect to any of the possibilities. Both Mount Weather and the abandoned base were in the right direction, but the entrances had been lost or buried ages ago.

Lexa sat on the edge of her desk, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Werewolves weren’t supposed to get migraines, but could swear she could feel one coming on in the building pressure behind her eyes. Rest, young one , Sister Wolf huffed, tiring yourself with questions already asked and answered is a waste of energy . Ha! ‘Young one’! That’s rich, seeing as we were born the exact same time, and besides, questions have been asked but I still don’t have any answers; it’s infuriating! My point still stands, you do no good to anyone if you’re too tired to think.

Her internal debate with Sister Wolf was interrupted by a presence she sensed near her open door.

“You are welcome to enter, Clarke,” Lexa looked up to see the blonde, already dressed for the day in a maroon shirt and black leggings, “how did you sleep?”

“Well, I seem to remember having a nightmare and then falling asleep against a furry body,” Clarke entered the room and relaxed into one of the comfy armchairs next to the desk Lexa was still sitting on.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Lexa probed gently.

“It’s nothing I haven’t dreamed of before. There are some things we do that will haunt us to the end of our days,” Clarke’s face was heavy with sorrow, “some losses whose pain will never fade.”

“I lost someone special to me too. Her name was Costia. Because she was mine, they tortured her, killed her, cut off her head. I thought I’d never get over the pain. But I did,” Lexa spoke matter-of-factly, staring at the map on the wall in front of her.

“How?” Clarke asked, disbelievingly.

“By recognizing it for what it is. Weakness.”

“What is? Love?” Lexa nodded quietly, trying to convince herself of her words more than Clarke who continued to question her, “so you just stopped caring? About everyone? I could never do that.”

“Then you put the people you care about in danger,” Lexa finally met Clarke’s skeptical look, “and the pain will never go away. The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry.”

“Everyone I cared about is already dead. And the pain? The pain is the only thing that reminds me I survived.”

In contrast with Lexa’s dispassionate words, her heart ached for the despair evident in Clarke’s expression. She stood from the edge of the desk and sat in a chair facing Clarke. Slowly, she leaned forward, carefully resting a hand on Clarke’s knee.

“I truly hope that you find something more than never-ending pain to remind you that you are alive.” Lexa couldn’t drag her eyes away from Clarke’s even if she had wanted to. Tension thickened the air between them, feeling electric with potential. Lexa broke the moment by leaning back and standing.

“Like I said, the living are hungry, Clarke. Why don’t I make us some breakfast?” Lexa attempted to alleviate the heaviness from the moment they shared with her subtle humor. Sister Wolf was currently unhappy with her, despite the exciting prospect of food. She knew what Lexa had purposely interrupted and she was quite peeved that Lexa continued to deny what she felt. Ignoring Sister Wolf’s irritation, Lexa walked to the kitchen to start fixing some food. She stopped at the threshold, only now remembering the fit she’d thrown yesterday. She turned from the mess in the kitchen to Clarke behind her.

“Ah, yes, I think it would be best if we went out for breakfast today,” Lexa said as she tried her best to cover the embarrassment rising in her cheeks.

“I never did ask, what was behind your rampage yesterday?”

“Oh, that, well,” Lexa scrambled to find an excuse so she didn’t have to explain her irrational rage at learning about Clarke and Niylah’s interaction, “I just received some news that didn’t agree with me.”

“Really?” Clarke’s eyebrow raised and a smirk played on her lips at catching Lexa’s clumsy evasion, “and what news would make the oh-so-emotionless Commander of the werewolves lose her legendary composure?”

“It was, um, a matter that Sister Wolf greatly overreacted to.”

“Sister Wolf?”

“That’s what my wolf prefers to be called. I am a little different than most werewolves,” Lexa hoped the change in topic would pique Clarke’s interest enough to distract her, “why don’t we go out to breakfast and I can answer any questions you have.”

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“So what makes you so different from the other werewolves?” Clarke asked over her plate full of belgian waffles, eggs, and bacon.

“To start with, I was not turned into a werewolf from a bite. I inherited it from my parents. The change from human to wolf makes carrying a pregnancy to term impossible for female werewolves, but my mother was unique. She was the daughter of her tribe’s medicine man and inherited many of his magical talents. Somehow, she used her abilities to stave off her shifting for the entire nine months she carried me. Unfortunately, the strain of it killed her moments after my birth.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Clarke reached her hand out instinctively and placed it on Lexa’s. She looked startled by the gesture and Clarke continued, “I wasn’t very close with my own mother, but the death of a parent is never easy.”

“Thank you, Clarke,” Clarke flinched slightly at Lexa’s spoken thanks, thank yous were dangerous if spoken to the wrong person. Lexa didn’t seem to notice Clarke’s flinch, or maybe she was just ignoring it.

“Is that why you can change so much faster than everybody else?” Clarke asked through a mouthful of bacon.

“Yes, that is one of the benefits of being a born werewolf. One of the biggest differences is that my wolf spirit is much more sentient than bitten werewolves. Their wolf sides are things of basic instinct, bloodthirst and violence. The very old wolves occasionally develop more intact personalities, but that is rare. A werewolf’s entire existence is dedicated to controlling their wolf, keeping it tightly locked away so that it can’t break free and slaughter everything in its path. Sister Wolf, on the other hand, has more in common with Wolf, the Trikru Father Spirit of all wolves. She is intelligent and wise, though she can also be rather vain. It seems humility is not a natural trait in apex predators. We communicate freely, soul-to-soul. She is much more adept at utilizing our natural senses than I am and I can put those insights to use in human reasoning that my wolf doesn’t care to engage in. We are two halves of one whole,” there was undeniable affection and pride in Lexa’s voice when she talked about this Sister Wolf.

“Can I meet her?” Clarke was fascinated by the idea of Lexa’s wolf being a fully-functioning being instead of the ravening beasts she had known in Underhill. Very few werewolves ended up trapped in Underhill, but the human side of them never lasted for long.

“I suppose that is doable,” Lexa seemed reluctant, though not out of fear, “I would prefer to do it somewhere more private than this though,” she gestured to the bustling diner.

“Okay!” Clarke exclaimed, delighted that Lexa agreed to let her meet Sister Wolf.

They finished the rest of their breakfast and took Lexa’s motorcycle back to the cabin. Clarke trailed Lexa to the deck and waited, trying to hide her excitement.

“Sister Wolf generally doesn’t enjoy coming to the front while we are still human. She says she finds the human body to be ‘ridiculously cumbersome’ and ‘ungainly.’ But she’s willing to make an exception for you.”

Lexa took a couple steps away, bent her head, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Clarke could see the moment Sister Wolf took charge. Lexa’s posture changed from her normal formal, straight-backed demeanor to a looser, fiercer bearing. She prowled forward the few steps Lexa had retreated, invading Clarke’s personal space without waiting for consent as Lexa would have. This was definitely not the same person, though she could see similarities in their effortless aura of power and self-assurance.

“Hello, little flame,” Lexa’s voice had turned huskier, less of the smooth clarity and more gravelly purr, “I’ve been jealous of the time my human has spent with you. She’s been frustratingly stubborn in keeping me from you,” Sister Wolf continued forward, forcing Clarke to step back until she hit the deck railing. She placed her hands on the rail to either side of her, pinning Clarke in place. Clarke prepared to erupt in flames if Sister Wolf made any more aggressive moves. Sister Wolf smoothly bent her head to nuzzle Clarke’s neck, inhaling deeply. She tensed, uncomfortable with how close this predator’s teeth were to her throat. As if feeling her distress, Sister Wolf withdrew slightly, allowing enough space for Clarke to flee if she wanted.

“I’m sorry, my sweet wildfire, I couldn’t help myself,” Sister Wolf cocked her head, just like Lexa tended to, “did you know you smell of whiskey and burnt sugar? It’s absolutely intoxicating. My human would never admit it, but she is planning on capturing your scent in a candle so she can fill her rooms with it,” she paused, eyes losing focus slightly before grinning widely in amusement, “She’s chastising me for giving away her secrets. Now, you had questions for me?”

Clarke floundered for a moment, thrown by Sister Wolf’s honesty and magnetism. Her eyes shone emerald with untamed wildness. She caught sight of the shattered glass door and rubble of granite.

“What was it that made you overreact so badly yesterday? The Lexa I’ve seen so far is always so composed and reserved. What could possibly set you both off like that?”

Lexa’s expression turned into a snarl and a fierce growl rolled from her throat as she returned to possessively hover over her.

“Lexa is trying very hard to keep me from telling you. She has this bizarre idea that my answer would offend you. So, do you still want to know?”

“Of course! Especially if it concerns me,” Clarke was already offended that Lexa would try to hide something that very obviously had to do with her. She was a little frightened by Sister Wolf’s reaction, but her curiosity burned too strong to not satisfy.

“I, no, we were angry at Niylah. She had no right to touch you!” Sister Wolf’s eyes blazed with intensity and her dominant nature flared enough for Clarke to feel, “You do not belong to her and you never will. You are magnificent and beautiful and fiery and mine . Lexa has chosen to seal her heart away so it cannot be wounded again, but I refuse to fear what is in my nature. You are important to me, Clarke of the Vikings. I cannot stand the thought of someone else’s hands on you, the thought of you enjoying someone else’s touch when you still shrink from my own--” Sister Wolf broke off suddenly, retreating several feet and turning her back to Clarke.

“Forgive me, Clarke,” her voice had returned to Lexa’s precise, overly-formal inflections, “I am very glad you had the opportunity to converse with my wolf, but she has overstepped her bounds. I must return to my work. I will call Octavia to come and show you more of our town.”

Clarke watched, stunned, as Lexa hurried away, looking like she was almost fleeing from the deck. What in Hel just happened? Clarke thought, still thrown by Sister Wolf’s confession and Lexa’s hasty departure. She slumped against the railing, staring at the now empty spot where Lexa had just been standing. 

“Hot shit, what did you say to tweak the Commander’s tail so badly? I haven’t seen her this panicked since she accidentally pissed off a skunk when she was a pup,” Anya intoned dryly as she strode out onto the deck. She hopped onto the rail, straddling it so she was facing Clarke.

“I didn’t say anything,” Clarke retorted, “all I did was ask Sister Wolf a question.”

“Sister Wolf talked to you! She hates having to speak when in human shape. Lexa says she regards it as ‘baby-talk’. How did you convince her to come out of Lexa’s shell?”

“Lexa was telling me about being born a werewolf and all that, and I asked if I could meet her.”

“And Lexa agreed? Hmph, she’s such a fucking pushover when it comes to pretty girls.”

“Good to know,” Clarke said dazedly, she was still trying to process Sister Wolf’s tirade, “I think Sister Wolf was pissed off that Niylah put her hands on me, or maybe it was because I enjoyed it? I’m not really sure on that part.”

“Huh,” Anya looked pensively back the way Lexa fled, “that explains some things,” she said after a moment, slapping her hands on her thighs, “welp, I have actual important shit to do, see ya later, hot stuff.” She vaulted off the railing and sauntered inside. Clarke braced her hands on the rail and stared at the stumps Lexa had left behind in her rampage the day before.

What in Fenrir’s name is wrong with these wolves? Lexa’s gotta be three different kinds of control freak to flip her lid over another woman getting handsy with me.  The more Clarke thought, the angrier she became. The railing beneath her hands started to smoke as her anger expressed itself as flames licking along her fingers.

“Woah there, firebug, let’s try not to burn anything else down, all right?” Clarke jumped as Octavia came up behind her, “what’s got your feathers so ruffled?”

“It’s nothing. Can we just go? I’m tired of being around these overly protective assholes.”

“I hate to break it to ya, but that’s kinda the definition of a werewolf. We’re all overly protective assholes around here,” Octavia chuckled, “come on, you need to chill out and I know just the place to help with that.”

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They pulled up in front of an extensive greenhouse. Walking inside, the humid air brought an instant sweat to Clarke’s skin. The interior of the greenhouse was a riot of colors and greenery. The smells of herbs and flowers filled the air, even to Clarke’s more human senses.

“O!” a shaggy-haired Asian man popped up from between rows of leafy plants, “What brings you to my humble neck of the woods?”

“Monty! I brought a new friend,” Octavia thumped Monty’s back, making him stumble forward a bit, “she’s a bit of a hothead, so I figured I’d introduce her to the coolest guys I know,” Octavia gave her an exaggerated wink before laughing at her own pun. Monty just shook his head and stuck out a hand to Clarke.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Monty said as Clarke shook his hand briefly, “what should I call you? I figure ‘hothead’ is not your actual name.”

“Clarke.” Despite herself, Clarke found she liked this easygoing man. His magic felt like a verdant, growing thing. It reminded her of a Fae she met in Underhill who called himself a Green Giant.  No wonder everything in this place grew so abundantly, the plants couldn’t help but flourish around Monty.

“Cool name, I’ve never met a girl named Clarke before. Those baby-blues of yours definitely give off a Clark Kent vibe, though.”

Clarke had no clue what a ‘Clark Kent vibe’ was but she offered a tiny smile anyway. Monty led them further into the greenhouse, chattering about all the different plant species he cultivated.

“And these are my pride and joy!” he exclaimed, gesturing cheerfully to a collection of tall, spiky-leafed plants dominating the center of the greenhouse, “Half these strains I’ve developed myself, and I’m working on a couple that might even get a werewolf high as a kite. They’re still a little hinky, but Jasper’s helping me with the genetic engineering parts.”

“Where is your partner-in-crime?” Octavia asked while inspecting the buds on one of the plants.

“He’s helping Nyko over at the morgue. The Doc’s stumped on what’s causing the brain damage in that Reaper thing. Jasper’s a whiz with chemicals, so Nyko asked him to take a look at what they’ve got and see if he could make any sense of it.”

Monty continued leading them through the plant nursery and into a cozy living room area. He flopped on a couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Octavia lounged on a beanbag, picking up a couple hacky sacks and juggling them. Clarke settled warily into a plush chair, not wanting to compromise her ability to rise quickly if needed.

“So, Clarke, I take it that Octavia’s comment about you being a hothead was more literal than anything. She was a little too pleased with herself for there not to be a pun thrown in somewhere.”

“I can control fire, so I guess ‘hothead’ is appropriate.”

“Dude! For real? Can I see?”

Clarke extended a hand, palm up. She summoned a tiny sphere of blue fire and made it spin around her fingers. At Monty’s gleeful laugh, Clarke summoned two more spheres, one yellow and one white, and began juggling them like Octavia juggled the hacky sacks.

“Yooooo! Holy shit, you’re so cool! I mean, obviously not literally, but in like a ‘you’re super awesome and talented’ way. Can you make a flame just from the tip of your finger, like this,” he demonstrated by making a finger-gun with his thumb and index finger.

Clarke quenched her fiery spheres and imitated Monty’s gesture. She let a tiny flame shoot from the tip of her finger. Monty reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled piece of white paper, leaning over to Clarke and using her flame to light the end of it. He took a deep drag and exhaled a ring of smoke. The air filled with a surprisingly pleasant minty-citrus smell.

“I haven’t smelled that one before,” Octavia commented from her beanbag.

“It’s a new one, this is the first bud it’s produced so far. I call it Thin Mints, like the Girl Scout Cookie. Wanna try?” He offered the blunt to Octavia and she took a puff.

“Woah! How did you make it taste like actual Thin Mints?”

“I’m just that talented, I guess,” Monty shrugged and Octavia returned the blunt, “wanna try it Clarke?”

Clarke shook her head, she wasn’t a fan of anything that would cloud her judgement. She couldn’t afford to risk relaxing her guard and not being able to defend herself if necessary. Monty brushed off the refusal easily and continued puffing on the cigarette.

“If you couldn’t tell, Monty here is a whiz with anything green and leafy. He grows a lot of the produce for the town, including a lot of medicinals that Nyko uses in his clinic. He’s another half-Fae who took shelter in this merry island of misfit toys.”

Clarke was sure Octavia was referencing something but had no clue what it was. Her thoughts drifted as Monty and Octavia chatted. Monty’s nursery reminded her of the garden in front of her family’s home, full of crops and herbs. She remembered the hours spent there, fingers covered in dirt, listening as her mother taught her the various uses of each plant for treating pain, illnesses, and easing childbirth. Her mother had been training her to fill her role as healer and midwife. Clarke wished more than anything that she had cherished those times. It was too late to think about might-have-beens. No one could change the past and it was pointless to waste energy on wishing.

Chapter Text

Lexa was mortified by Sister Wolf’s confessions. She knew her wolf was honest to a fault, but she didn’t think Sister Wolf would really ignore her and spill everything to Clarke. What’s worse is that she had fled! Lexa kom Trikru, Heda kom Kongeda , Commander of every werewolf in North America, had run from a human--a human who had elemental control of fire--but still! She paced in her study, hands clenched into fists behind her back. Sister Wolf was much calmer than she had been while talking to Clarke, smugly satisfied with how she had staked her claim. The wolf couldn’t understand why Lexa was so hesitant, she thought it out of self-preservation and Lexa’s fear of being hurt again. But that wasn’t it--okay, maybe Sister Wolf was a little bit right--Lexa could see the signs of abuse written all over Clarke. It was in her dislike of being touched, her irrational responses to unintended insults, her all-consuming nightmares, her constant vigilance despite being in a safe environment. Sister Wolf wasn’t blind to this, but she viewed it as evidence that Clarke needed to be claimed and protected. Lexa knew differently, she’d seen enough war vets and survivors in her life to recognize PTSD and Clarke had a hell of a lot to work through. If it was up to her, she would have given Clarke all the space she needed and the tools to overcome what she’d experienced. Unfortunately, Sister Wolf had blown right through her carefully thought-out plans and driven Clarke away with her impatience.

Not one to dwell on the mistakes of the past, she stopped in front of the map hanging on her wall, trying to distract herself from the thoughts whirling around in her head. The circles and lines made no more sense than they had before. She focused on the threat facing her pack and tried to reason out why anyone would kidnap werewolves. What could these people possibly want with my wolves? There are too few Reapers to account for all the missing. And why would they be taking humans as well? Patience, we are the hunters. Our prey will make a mistake. And we will be there to rip out their throats. But how will we even know where to be to take advantage of that mistake?

That’s it! Lexa rounded her desk and sat in the chair behind it. She had three options for where their base would be. All she needed to do was narrow it down and they would know where to devote their attention. She knew there was a traitor in the pack, reporting their movements to the enemy. They had been ambushed too many times to be coincidence. So now it was time for Lexa to spring a trap of her own.

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Lexa strode into Raven’s workshop, wincing slightly as her sensitive hearing was assaulted by the booming music. She found Raven underneath a hunk of rusted metal claiming to be a Volkswagon Bus, only her feet sticking out. Lexa kicked a boot and Raven wheeled herself out from under the ancient bus. The music cut out as Lexa helped lift Raven to her feet.

“Heya, Lex, ah I mean, heya Lexaa,” Raven rambled in an attempt to cover her mistake, she knew Lexa wasn’t joking when she threatened to cut off Raven’s funding if she ever called her Lex again.

“Raven, I need you to do something for me,” Lexa said, rolling her eyes at Raven’s antics, “would you be able to make some kind of amulet or bracelet that functions as a magical tracking chip?”

“Probably, it might take me a bit to figure it out though. How many would you need?”

“At least three, but more if possible. Can you give me an estimate of how long it will take?”

“I’ve never done something like this before, but if I had to guess...gimme three days. I should have something for you by then.”

“Good, let me know if you need extra hands.”

“I could always use a certain blonde werewolf’s hands around here, if you know what I mean,” Raven gave Lexa an exaggerated wink and nudge.

Lexa just rolled her eyes and walked out to her bike. She drove to the morgue and entered to find a tall, gangly guy with a buzzcut and safety goggles covering his eyes doing something sciencey with a bunch of bubbling beakers.

“Jasper, I did not expect to find you here,” Lexa raised her eyebrow at finding the chemical engineer fiddling around in Nyko’s lab.

“I’m afraid that’s my doing, Commander,” Nyko’s deep voice came from behind and Lexa turned to see the doctor heading in from the clinic, “I was stumped by the results I was getting from the blood and swab samples, so I called in Jasper to help.”

“Have you found anything new?” she asked, hoping they could give her something that she could actually work with.

“I think I might be onto something over here,” Jasper spoke up, “it looks like the compound in the dart is a mix of ketamine and elemental silver. It’s definitely potent enough to knock out a werewolf for a good while. Whatever’s been injected in the Reaper is still giving me grief. It doesn’t react like anything I’ve ever seen before. I’ve started calling it ‘Red’ cuz that’s the only thing I know about it.”

“That’s more than we had before. Nyko, Jasper, do you think you could devise a counteractive agent to the sedative?”

“We will certainly try, Commander,” Nyko chimed in.

“Good, if you need me, I will be at the training pits,” Lexa replied, walking to the door, “until then, good luck.”

Lexa pulled into the parking lot near the gym and circular sand pits. She could see Anya sparring with three pack members in one of the pits. Lexa walked up and stood by the edge, watching her Second trounce her opponents. Anya dodged a punch and rolled forward as a man charged her from the side, causing him to knock over the third when he couldn’t stop fast enough. She popped up onto her feet and threw out a back kick at the first man, hitting him squarely in the gut. She bent into a back handspring and launched herself across the pile of sprawling werewolves. She gave Lexa an exaggerated bow when Lexa started to slow clap.

“Wanna show these bozos how a real warrior fights?” Anya called out to Lexa.

Lexa unlaced her boots and removed them before walking into the pit (she absolutely hated the feeling of sand in her shoes). She cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck while Anya bounced on the balls of her feet. She took a ready stance and waited for Anya to make the first move, like she always did. She didn’t have to wait long as Anya threw a punch at her face, only to pull it at the last moment and launch a knee to her sternum. Lexa saw through the feint easily, ignoring the punch and bringing her hands up to block the knee. She kicked out at Anya’s weight-bearing leg, trying to throw her off-balance. Anya shifted to avoid the kick and threw a series of lightning-fast jabs at Lexa. Lexa dodged with minimal movements, each strike missing her by a hair. A smirk tugged at her lips, this was the most fun she’d had in a while. They flowed back and forth, exchanging strikes and kicks that the other blocked or dodged. They moved so fast that the other werewolves had difficulty following their movements. Anya thought she had Lexa when she managed to grab her hand and twist, but Lexa just flipped in the air, following the rotation and using her momentum to throw Anya to the sand. Lexa tried to stomp Anya’s exposed abdomen, but Anya spun in a complicated motion that swept Lexa’s legs out from under her, bringing her to the ground beside her. They ki-upped to their feet simultaneously and slowly circled each other. Lexa extended a hand and curled her fingers inward in the classic Bruce Lee “come at me bro” gesture. Anya launched into a flying sidekick aimed directly at Lexa’s chest. She blocked the kick, sliding back in the sand a few feet with the force of it. Lexa crouched into a spinning foot sweep which Anya jumped over and while she was in the air Lexa popped up and threw her shoulder into Anya’s gut. Anya just barely landed on her feet. Lexa took advantage of her stumble to jump into the air and, in a Black Widow worthy move, locked her legs around Anya’s neck and arm, swinging her to the ground and overextending the captured arm in a vicious elbow-lock. Anya tapped twice against Lexa’s leg, signalling her defeat and ending the match. Lexa got to her feet first and pulled Anya up. She grinned and thumped Anya on the back while Anya popped her elbow back into place with a grimace.

“And that, boy and girls, is how she became your Commander,” Anya didn’t sound upset at her loss, there was a reason she was only Second.

“Alright everyone, get back to your sparring partners,” Lexa waved the onlookers off and towed Anya to the side, updating her on her newly formed plan and everything Jasper had discovered.

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Three days passed in similar fashion. Lexa checked on Nyko and Jasper’s progress, sparred at the pits or helped train, and scoured Alphas’ reports in her office. More wolves had gone missing, but it didn’t help Lexa draw closer to any conclusions. She barely saw Clarke in that time, she was always either out with Octavia or helping Niylah at the Trading Post, which Lexa was decidedly not sulking over.

Finally, Raven called her with news on her request. She sprinted down to the workshop and found Raven, Aiden, and, unexpectedly, Murphy.

“Who’s your favorite resident genius?” Raven said in a sing-song, brandishing four bronze metal bracelets.

“You did it? How do they work?” Lexa asked, an impassive mask hiding her excitement.

“Just like you asked, I worked a location spell into the metal, along with a couple other tricks. Murphy here helped me add some glamour magic so that the bracelets will grow or shrink to fit whoever they’re placed on no matter what shape the person’s in.”

“Don’t skip the forget-me spell I added,” Murphy interjected, “I’m rather proud of that bit.”

“I was getting to that Smurph,” Raven retorted, Murphy grumbling over his newest stupid nickname, “as Murphy so kindly mentioned, he also placed a spell that would make the bracelet unnoticeable by anyone not wearing it, meaning--” here Murphy butt in again.

“Meaning that no one will be able to perceive the charms or remove the bracelet except the wearer.”

“I’m impressed, Raven, Murphy,” Lexa nodded to each in turn, “this is good work. Have you tested them yet?”

Raven and Murphy looked at each other, laughed, and high-fived. Raven reached to her own wrist and unclasped a previously unseen bracelet of her own. She held it out for Lexa to examine. Lexa picked it up and turned it over in her hands, seeing faint characters engraved on the inner surface. She could sense the magic in the metal now that she held it. She thought that the forget-me spell might have lost its power over her now that she was familiar with the feel of it. She handed the bracelet back to Raven, who reclasped it around her wrist.

Raven waved Lexa to follow her and walked over to a table against the wall of the garage. On the table was an embossed metal map similar to the one Lexa had on her office wall. Five points of light shone out of the map at approximately the same location Raven’s workshop would be.

“This’ll show the location of any bracelet at any given time. Since it’s magic based and not actual GPS, it’ll work even if you were at the center of the earth.”

“This is perfect Raven, you have done excellent work,” Lexa clapped Raven on the shoulder, “Take the map to my cabin and leave it in my office. I’ll take the bracelets, except for yours of course.”

“No prob, Bob,” Raven folded sections of the metal map together and handed it to Aden.

Lexa waved farewell and left, ringing Gustus and Anya on a conference call and telling them to gather the pack to the Meeting Hall for a special assignment. She ran home and put on her Heda garb, taking down the map and rolling it up before placing it in a compartment on her bike. She rode to the Meeting Hall and saw all the requested wolves already present. She stood in front of her throne, rolled map in hand, and motioned for quiet.

“Brave pack members, Several of you will be undertaking a vital scouting mission. I have narrowed down the enemy’s possible base to three locations. I am sending out three groups to scout out these locations and report back to me what you find. Be on the lookout for Reapers. If you see any, try to take down as many as you can, alive if possible, without suffering casualties. Nyko will need every sample he can get to reverse-engineer what is being used to make those monsters. Due to the inherent danger of this assignment, I am asking for volunteers rather than designating who should go.” Pack members stood to show their willingness to serve the Commander and their pack. Lexa spread the map out on the dais and pointed out each suspected location, assigning five wolves to each scouting party. She covered possible trails to the locations and answered any of her wolves’ questions. At the end, she dismissed all but Anya, Gustus, and the three party leaders: Lincoln, Octavia, and Bellamy. She waited until the others had cleared the Hall before pulling out the bracelets and clasping one on each of the scout leaders’ wrists.

“Do not remove these for any reason. Do not tell anyone you wear them. Do not mention their existence to anyone,” irresistible authority resonated in Lexa’s words as she pulled on her Alpha dominance.

“What are they?” Octavia asked.

“That is not necessary information for you to know right now,” Lexa stated firmly, “you will all be leaving tonight as soon as it gets dark. Be sure you are all ready.”

She dismissed them, though telling Anya and Gustus to meet her in her office once they returned to the cabin.

Fifteen minutes later, the pack Alpha, Second, and Third all stood around the metal map on Lexa’s desk as she explained not only her surface-level plan, but the deeper motives behind it: using the scouts as bait to find the base of operations and, if possible, sussing out the traitor. Anya was furious, but backed down once she understood the necessity of it. Gustus accepted his Alpha’s wisdom without question, just like he always had. They wandered downstairs to the newly repaired kitchen, talking lowly. Lexa collapsed into her chair and braced her elbows on her desk, dropping her head into her hands. Now all she could do was wait.

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Clarke was helping Niylah stock the shelves when Octavia burst in.

“Clarke! Guess what?” Octavia was slightly breathless and obviously excited about something.

“Is this one of your rhetorical questions or am I supposedly to actually guess?” Clarke joked, tossing a grin to where Niylah was restocking the fishing bait fridge.

“I’m leading a scouting mission tonight! The Commander thinks she might have the possible location of the Reapers’ base, so she’s sending a bunch of us to check ‘em out.”

“Oh, well if the Commander knows what’s best, then of course you have to go,” Clarke drawled sarcastically. She still hadn’t gotten over her anger at Sister Wolf claiming her and Lexa running away like a coward. The supposedly almighty Commander still seemed to be avoiding her, even three days later.

“You don’t have to be so snarky about it,” Octavia leaned against the counter, and examine her nails nonchalantly, “I waaaas going to ask you to come with, but I guess you’d rather stay here and mope about pushy werewolves.”

“Ugh, fine! Don’t leave me behind. I’m going crazy being stuck in this place, no offense Niylah,” Clarke shot a wink to Niylah, which was generously returned.

They both hugged Niylah goodbye before taking Octavia’s car to her place. Octavia lent Clarke some better outdoors clothes and a few daggers. She knew Clarke was her own weapon, but daggers are much better than fire for stealth missions. They met up with the other members of the scouting party and Clarke waited until they all finished shifting to wolf. They let out an eerie howl before setting off on the hunt, the fiery blonde riding on Octavia’s back.

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Lexa stewed in her study before Sister Wolf finally admonished her for brooding and convinced Lexa to go do something productive, like go spend time with her little flame ( not mine, she retorted). Giving up on her brooding, the Alpha searched the cabin looking for Clarke. The house was full of pack members and their mates, but no Clarke. She’s probably with the Omega , Sister Wolf glowered. Now who’s sulking? Lexa thought, needling her wolf. She rode over to the Trading Post and found Niylah locking up.

“Niylah,” Leka nodded in greeting, “where is Clarke? I thought she would be with you.”

“Commander, it’s good to see you too, sugar” Niylah teased gently, “Clarke, she ran off with Octavia on some scouting mission or something a while ago. Why?”

Lexa’s heart dropped to the floor. She wheeled around without answering Niylah and sped off to the scouting party’s departure point. No, no, no! She can’t be that stupid. I’m going to murder Octavia if she gets back! Her thoughts whirled as she reached the spot and saw she was far too late. Skrish, jok, joken skrish , that spichen overconfident stubborn hothead, she continued her tirade as she leapt off her bike and started running, shifting to wolf as she ran. She sprinted as fast as she could, trying to catch up with them before it was too late. 

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Clarke was rebuttoning her pants after relieving herself several yards away from the wolves when a hand yanked her behind a tree. A hard, hot body pinned her against the trunk, a hand covering her mouth. Clarke was just about to ignite when a familiar voice hissed in her ear.

“Don’t move, don’t try to escape,” Lexa breathed, “what the fuck are you doing with the scouting party?”

Clarke tried to answer, but the hand over her mouth refused to loosen even when she flared a little, singeing the Commander's palm.

“You will go back to the party and tell them you changed your mind. Tell them you will return to the town by yourself. You are still near enough to Aspen Creek for them to let you leave on your own,” Lexa flashed a warning look before slowly removing her hand from Clarke’s mouth.

“By Loki’s left breast! What in Hel, Lexa!” Clarke hissed, keeping her voice low enough for only Lexa to hear.

Lexa growled and her eyes glowed bright green in the darkness. She pinned Clarke even harder to the tree at Clarke’s defiance.

“You will obey me, Clarke,” the command in Lexa’s words a crushing force that brooked no insubordination, “you will tell them exactly what I said to and return to this exact spot. If you don’t…” she trailed off into a throaty rumble of fury.

“Fine! But only if you explain why the fuck you felt it necessary to drag me away, you damn control freak.”

Clarke watched as Lexa wrestled down her anger and stepped back to let Clarke loose. She stalked over to where the wolves were waiting and parroted the Alpha’s words exactly. Octavia was obviously befuddled by the sudden change of heart, but head-butted Clarke in an affectionate goodbye before the group ran off into the dark. Why is this bitch so damn pushy! Clarke raged internally as she stomped over to Lexa, I can’t even leave this godsforsaken town without her dragging me back. So much for letting me keep my freedom. Clarke saw that Lexa had shifted to wolf and was crouched down so Clarke could get on her back. She pointedly ignored the wolf and started a steady jog back to Lexa’s cabin.

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It took them a good couple of hours to make it back on foot. They could’ve moved much faster, but that damn blonde was just too stubborn. Lexa grumbled to Sister Wolf, who couldn’t care less about the griping, she was too happy that Clarke was safe. The blonde firestarter stormed into the cabin from the deck, almost shattering the newly repaired door. Lexa sighed and shook her large head, then padded up the steps and into the house. She tried following Clarke to her newly chosen room, but the door was shut and locked tight. Lexa shifted to human and trudged back to her office to wait out the long night. She must have dozed off sometime in her chair, because the next thing she knew her door was slamming open and an angry blonde was standing in front of her desk. She sighed and looked up into turbulent cobalt eyes.

“What was all that about, huh? Was it just some stupid Alpha dick power play? Showing the feeble human her place?”

Lexa tiredly dragged a hand across her face, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes. She stood slowly and walked to stand in front of the map on her wall.

“Clarke, can this not wait until morning? I’m sure we are both exhausted and discussing this right now will do neither of us any good. I assure you, taking you off that mission was necessary. Now, please, go to bed,” she studied the map as she spoke, avoiding Clarke’s infuriated gaze.

Clarke let out a grunt of frustration and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Do you have to keep antagonizing our little wildfire? Sister Wolf asked sullenly, we’ve already driven her into Niylah’s waiting arms, now we treat her like just another of our wolves. And whose fault was that? I’m not the one who revealed how possessive we felt of her! That was all you. And you know exactly why we took her off that mission...I can’t lose her too.

Chapter Text

That black-toothed, bowlegged, carrion-eating BITCH! Of all the power-hungry, pox-rotting tyrants on yggdrasil’s endless branches, THIS is the one I’m stuck with. How dare she make me look like a coward in front of Octavia and the other wolves?! I finally get the chance to prove myself and she forces me to make a fool of myself! Clarke fumed silently as she left Lexa’s office, making sure to slam the door loudly behind her, and she won’t even give me the satisfaction of knowing why! Damn her! Clarke stomped to her bedroom and paced for a while. Fury not fading, she decided to find something to distract herself with, and if she could do it while pissing Lexa off, even better. 

She snuck out her window, knowing that she’d be spotted and stopped if she left by the front door. She jogged down the gravel road and soon arrived at Raven’s. They had gotten along like a house on fire the second time they were introduced. Raven was careful not to impinge on Clarke’s personal space and Clarke refrained from dislocating anyone’s shoulders. She found she actually liked the energetic mechanic. Raven was absolutely brilliant and not the slightest bit humble about it. She was constantly cooking up some mad invention or hyper-focused on a new project. She tended to ramble to herself while working and Clarke enjoyed not having to fill the silence. The iron-kissed half-Fae was an excellent, if somewhat impatient, teacher and the blonde was an eager student. Raven didn’t think she was stupid for not understanding basic modern machinery--at least no more idiotic than everyone else--and was willing to explain how it worked in excrutiating detail. Clarke absorbed it all like a sponge and took many opportunities to help Raven out in the shop. Aden was a chill counterbalance to Raven’s frenetic chaos. He was very easygoing and cheerful, like an enthusiastic puppy with a new friend. He was a competent grease monkey, handing Raven everything she needed almost before she asked.

Raven’s workshop was still lit despite the late hour and she could hear heavy music thumping inside. She walked through the unlocked door and wandered until she found Raven elbow-deep in a grimy car engine. She was swearing at the engine in at least four different languages. Clarke leaned against a tool chest and watched her work. After a couple of minutes, she tasted metal as Raven lost her patience with the engine and used a shock of magic to fix whatever it was she was trying to do manually in the engine. Raven extracted herself from the pipes and gears and used a rag from her coveralls to swipe the grease off her hands, looking satisfied. Clarke rapped her knuckles against the tool chest to get her attention, making the mechanic jump three feet in the air and spin to face her brandishing a wrench.

“Shiesse, Clarke! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” Raven put down the wrench and held up a fist, Clarke bumping it with her own, “what brings you here in the dead of night?”

“Just asshole werewolves being assholes,” Clarke responded grouchily, “why do you bother putting up with them?”

“An unlimited budget certainly helps,” Raven snarked, “but I get what you mean. I’m still trying to seduce a prickly blonde, but she’s being stubborn.”

“This blonde wouldn’t happen to be me, would it? I’m already dealing with one overbearing stalker, I don’t need to add an iron-kissed, half-Fae mechanic to the list.”

“Wait, you have a secret admirer? Tell me! Tell me! No don’t, let me guess. Is it Niylah? It’s definitely not O, she’s head over heels for Lincoln. And no, you’re gorgeous, but not really my type. I’m talking about Anya. But you first! Who’s got the hots for the hottie?”

“You know, Raven, you think you’re funny, but you’re not.” Clarke sassed, before answering the question crabbily, “and it’s not Niylah, though she’s fun to flirt with. She’d probably kill me for telling you, but it’s Lexa. She kind of accidentally admitted that she thinks of me as hers and she’s always sticking her nose in my business like it’s her right. I made it clear from the very beginning that I belong to no one but myself. And yet I can’t seem to do anything without her flipping the fuck out! First it was over me enjoying spending time with Niylah and now it's because Octavia thought I was actually useful enough to go on a scouting mission with her! I feel like I’m trapped in this damn town and she’s my jailor! She might be head honcho in town, but that doesn’t mean she has to be so fucking overbearing!” Clarke’s voice got louder until she was nearly shouting by the end.

Raven whistled lowly, seemingly impressed by Clarke’s rant. She came and leaned against the tool chest next to the irritated firebrand.

“Wow, the Commander’s got it bad, huh? Who’da thought all it took to get under her skin was a cute little firefly?” Raven winked at Clarke as she protested at being called cute and little. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m not in the mood to talk about it.” Raven snorted at the obvious lie, as Clarke had literally just gone off about the topic. “What about your own puppy love?”

“Ha! Puppy love, I like it! I should call her that next time she comes by the shop. She’ll flip her lid on that one,” Raven laughed and elbowed Clarke in the side, “she plays the big, bad wolf, but she’s a total softy,” Clarke snorted, “okay maybe ‘softy’ isn’t the right word but she does have her charms. She’s one of the few who can match my snark and dish it back. Plus, she’s totally fuckin’ sexy!” Clarke laughed as Raven regaled her with the story of Anya showing up to her shop butt-naked and they swapped stories until she could barely keep her eyes open. Raven shooed her home at that point, so Clarke trudged back to the Commander’s cabin. She snuck up into her room and promptly fell asleep spread-eagled on her bed.

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She awoke to Octavia’s livid bellows. She scrambled out of bed and peeked out of her door. The impassioned werewolf was nowhere to be seen, but it sounded like the ruckus was coming from upstairs. Clarke snuck up the stairs--not that sneaking was really possible in a house full of werewolves--and paused next to Lexa’s open office door. Octavia was raving at Lexa, who sat perfectly composed in her office chair, eyes a wild icy blue and on the verge of losing control.

“YOU KNEW, DIDN’T YOU?! YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO WARN US! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! THEIR BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS,” Octavia continued, almost screaming in Lexa’s face, before being cut off as the Alpha finally stood from her chair. She braced her fists on the desk, head bowed for a few seconds. When she finally looked up at the other wolf, her eyes burning cold with emerald violence.

“That is enough,” Lexa’s voice was soft but brimming with icy wrath, “you will control yourself and vacate my office before I am forced to do something you would very much regret,” her dominance flooded the room like a tidal wave, driving Octavia to her hands and knees, “if you share your accusations with anyone else, I will have no choice but to end you.” She released the pressure keeping Octavia pinned to the floor and the chastened wolf stumbled out of the office, bumping into Clarke on the way downstairs.

“O, wait!” Clarke called and raced down the stairs to catch Octavia before she left, “what was that all about?”

“Lincoln’s team is missing,” Octavia managed to choke out past her rage, “they never returned from their scouting mission.”

It all suddenly clicked in Clarke’s mind, the reason for Lexa taking her off the scouting party, for Octavia’s anger, for Lexa’s bone-deep weariness the night before. Anger welled in her core, blinding her to everything else. She whirled away from her friend and stormed up the stairs to the Commander’s office. Lexa was still standing behind her desk, head bowed once more, knuckles white against the mahogany wood and tension evident in every line of her body. Clarke turned and closed the office door behind her before facing the Alpha.

“Tell me she’s wrong, Lexa,” Clarke demanded, hoping her suspicions were wrong, “tell me you didn’t send those wolves out as bait. Tell me that you aren’t using them as pawns to find the Reapers’ base.”

Lexa looked up at her, eyes hooded. Her silence was answer enough for Clarke.

“What in HEL is wrong with you? You can’t just throw away the lives of your wolves like that!” Clarke exclaimed, incensed by Lexa’s heartless exploitation of her pack, her careless disregard for the lives of those she should be protecting with her own.

“Yes I can,” Lexa replied coolly.

“You’re supposed to take CARE of them! Not throw them to the beasts!” Visions of mangled corpses flashed behind her eyes, small bodies ravaged by bloodstained teeth in void-black faces.

“That’s what it means to be a leader, Clarke.” Her tongue clicked harshly on Clarke’s name, turning it almost into a curse. “The truth is, we must look into the eyes of our soldiers and say, ‘Go die for me.’”

“It’s not that easy,” shot back Clarke. She couldn’t allow anyone else she cared for suffer. “I won’t let you abuse your power over your people like this!”

“And who, exactly, are you to forbid the Commander of Wolves from doing anything?” Menace radiated from Lexa’s flat tone and she deliberately stalked around the desk to stand right in Clarke’s face. “Since when do you know what is best for my pack?”

“Since I actually care about them! If you felt anything for them, you’d know that your wolves would do anything for you if you just trusted them with the truth,” her furious tirade fueled by the guilt she still felt at so grievously failing to protect those who had been in her own care. They might be dead and gone, but she could still help these people here, today. 

“The Reapers are a threat. If you weren’t so close to Octavia, you’d see that this was the only way to discover their base,” Lexa crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow disdainfully.

“It’s because I’m close to her that I know Octavia is the most loyal wolf in your pack! And now you’ve broken that trust in the worst way possible! You let her future mate be captured and potentially turned into a Reaper just so you could get an edge on this enemy,” Clarke was disgusted by Lexa’s aloof attitude. Here she would do anything to go back and save her kids, and this Alpha would use her own wolves as bait to lure out a foe.

“And you would stake your life on that? You would threaten me, the Alpha? Because of your feelings?”

“ Yes . You say having feelings makes me weak, but you’re weak for hiding from them. I might be a hypocrite, Lexa, but you’re a coward. You felt something for those wolves you sacrificed. You’re still haunted by Costia. You want everyone to think you’re above it all, but I see right through you,” Clarke stalked forward step-by-step, forcing the wolf to retreat. Emotion spilled through Heda’s mask for the first time, her jaw dropping slightly and eyes apprehensive as the short blonde backed her into a bookcase. Lexa gripped the shelf behind her, staggering against it as Clarke penetrated the Alpha’s semblance of detachment. Real fear washed across her face for a split second before the expression transformed into a snarl, lip curling and teeth bared.

“Get. Out,” Lexa growled savagely, eyes blisteringly bright.

“Fifteen of your wolves could have died on that mission. I know you felt for them. But you fed them to the monsters.” The firebrand searched the Alpha’s face for any sign of the compassion she knew hid underneath. She was rewarded by the aggression draining from the other woman’s expression, replaced by something almost like sorrow.

Lexa’s eyelids fluttered as she held her breath for a few moments. Her eyes flicked between Clarke’s own, irises fading to their normal forest green and limned with a hint of tears. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

“Not everyone...not you,” Lexa admitted, barely loud enough for Clarke to hear. 

Clarke faltered, nonplused by Lexa’s confession, wavering back a step and gawking at the brunette. Her eyes held Lexa’s for several heartbeats, then skimmed reflexively over elegant cheekbones, flawless jawline, inviting lips. She leaned in unintentionally, mere inches from the Alpha’s face.

“I-is that why you stopped me from going with the scouts? Because you care about me?” Clarke stammered slightly at the vulnerability leaking from the Commander like tears. “Well if you care about me, tell the pack what you did.”

“I can’t do that,” Lexa’s jaw clenched tightly, but her voice remained soft. Seconds passed as their eyes remained locked together, neither one moving to release the other.

“I can’t let you sacrifice your people anymore,” Clarke finally stated, eyes involuntarily flicking down to Lexa’s lips again. She pivoted on her heel and hurried out of the study.

Well, shit. That didn’t go quite like I thought it would.

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Lexa stared up at the ceiling, breathing shakily through her nose as she tried to hold back her tears. Her thoughts roiled with guilt and the searing truth of Clarke’s accusations. She bit her lips and slumped against the bookcase at her back. She slid down until she rested on the floor, knees bent up and arms propped against them. Clarke’s outburst didn’t change anything. She did what had to be done, like always. Craving peace from her turbulent mind, she closed her eyes and settled into a meditative pose, legs crossed and hands placed on knees, palm-upwards. In, out, in, out. She imagined a mountain lake, surface disturbed by a thrown rock. Slowly, she watched the water calm, becoming as still and clear as glass. She sank into the still water, letting herself become the lake, unruffled and serene. Once she had reattained her tranquility, she stood and removed the metal map from inside her desk. A single pinprick of light shone from the center of Mount Weather. She had spent the night tracking its every movement, from the town to the mountain. She knew exactly what route the Reapers had taken, had marked it in ink in excruciating detail. Now they could finally act. They knew where their quarry was and had a path in. They just needed a plan.

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Clarke found Octavia still raging in Raven’s workshop. Raven was mostly ignoring the small werewolf, focused on whatever it was she was building, only paying attention enough to insert grunts of agreement at the right times. When Clarke got closer, she saw that Raven was working on some kind of bracelet.

“You’re right, O,” Clarke declared, “Lexa knew exactly what was going to happen. That’s why she kept me from going with you last night. She didn’t trust me to not ruin her little plot.”

“I KNEW IT,” Octavia yelled triumphantly, “there’s no way she didn’t know what was going to happen!”

“Wait what are we talking about? Why is Octavia right?” Raven interrupted.

“Have you not been listening to a single thing I said?! Lincoln has been taken,” Octavia encunciated every word slowly and exaggeratedly, “I’ve only been ranting about it for the past half hour!”

“Oh, huh,” Raven shrugged and went back to working on the bracelet, “makes sense why she wanted those tracking bracelets now.”

“Tracking bracelets?” Clarke asked, grudgingly thinking Lexa’s plan might not have been so reckless after all.

“Yeah, the Commander asked me a couple of days ago to make a bunch of enchanted bracelets that would act as homing beacons. She didn’t tell me what they were for, but it makes sense to use them to reveal the Reapers’ homebase.”

“Is that what these are?” Octavia reached to her wrist and a bracelet appeared as she unfastened the clasp.

“Yep, that’s definitely one of mine.”

“Huh, she gave each of the scouting party leaders one of these and told us we weren't allowed to talk to anyone about them. So you’re saying we can use these to find Lincoln?!” Hope returned to Octavia’s face.

“For sure, but you’d have to convince Commander Stick-Up-Her-Ass to cough up the map first.”

“Map?” Clarke and Octavia asked simultaneously.

“Duh,” Raven said scornfully, “tracking bracelets would be completely useless without something to track them with. I made a map that shows the location of every bracelet within five meters of accuracy,” she would’ve had to dislocate her own shoulder to pat herself on the back any harder.

“You said Lexa has this map?” Clarke speculated, eyebrows crinkled thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but what good will that do you? How do you plan on stealing it from under Alpha Watchdog’s nose?” Raven questioned (Clarke really needed to start writing these nicknames down, they were gold ).

“Let me worry about that,” Clarke smirked.

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A few hours later, Clarke knocked on Lexa’s office door.

“Come in,” Lexa’s voice answered quietly.

Clarke entered and stood before the large mahogany desk, hands fidgeting nervously. Lexa looked up from the stack of papers she was pouring through and cocked her head curiously.

“Clarke, why are you here? Did you forget to berate me for some other imagined fault?”

“Actually,” Clarke made herself sound timid and slightly embarrassed, making herself fully believe what she was about to say so it wouldn’t be a lie, “I came to apologize. I wasn’t fair to you before--”

“Clarke, you were right,” Lexa interjected, standing from her chair and rounding the desk to stand a foot or so away from Clarke, glancing down and away from the blonde’s surprised gaze, “I should have trusted my wolves with the truth of the scouting missions,” she edged closer, “I should have trusted you...I do trust you, Clarke.”

“I, I know how hard that is for you,” Clarke reassured gently, mind whirling at the Alpha’s unexpected apology. This was definitely not what she’d expected when coming here.

“You think my ways are harsh, but it’s how we survive,” Lexa finally met Clarke’s stare, eyes full of some indecipherable emotion.

“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving,” Clarke was the one who broke eye contact this time, turning slightly to fidget with a letter opener on the desk, missing the brunette’s lingering look at the planes of her face, the curve of her lips, “don’t we deserve better than that?” She let her eyes be drawn back to Lexa’s as she responded.

“Maybe we do,” Lexa tenderly clasped the back of Clarke’s neck, pulling her in and angling her head to meet Clarke’s lips.

Velvety warmth brushed against her mouth, sending electric thrills pulsing down her spine. She gasped and pressed herself to the wolf. Clarke lost herself in the feel of Lexa’s hand on her neck and the exquisite contrast between the roughly callused palm and the silken soft lips. She clutched at Lexa’s waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her shirt, anchoring herself. She felt like she was falling, her center of gravity shifting inexorably towards the woman embracing her. Heat pulsed at every point of contact: hips, chest, the fingers tangled in her hair, the nose grazing her cheek, the lips caressing hers. Lexa tasted of mint chapstick, cinnamon, and something undefinably Lexa . 

She didn’t come back to herself until Lexa’s lip left hers, shifting to another angle. Fuck! I’m on a mission, damnit! I didn’t come here to lock lips with the Commander! Clarke pulled back, feeling Lexa instantly draw back as well. Lexa looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes, lips red and swollen.

“I-I’m sorry,” Clarke stammered, “I’m...I’m not ready, to be with anyone,” seeing Lexa’s expression wilt she added, “not yet.”

“Of course,” Lexa replied smoothly, clearing her throat and sliding sideways to disengage from Clarke, “I apologize if I was too forward. I must have misread the situation. Let me go make us some lunch.”

“No, wai--,” Clarke’s protestations were cut off as Lexa slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a click, “well shit.” 

She shook off the haze and started searching the office for the metal locator map. She had planned on distracting Lexa and making her leave the office so she could steal the map and bring it to her co conspirators. What she most definitely had not planned was making out with said werewolf. She searched all the bookshelves and drawers in Lexa’s desk with no luck. She collapsed into the office chair with a huff, losing hope of finding the map. A small latch on the underside of the desk caught her attention. She flicked it to the side and heard a small ‘kachunk’ as a drawer slid out from the previously smooth base. She pulled it open and grinned as she found the object of her search. The metal map was folded into the size of a thick notebook, the perfect size to hide in a bag or under a loose shirt. Clarke slipped it out and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. She rushed downstairs and out the front door, ignoring Lexa’s confused call of “Clarke?”

Clarke entered Raven’s workshop, triumphantly brandishing her prize. Raven and Octavia both cheered the unexpected success. She set the map on a table and unfolded it. Sharpied lines traced a winding route leading to an ‘x’ over Mount Weather. Four pinpricks of light emanated from Aspen Creek: two at the workshop, one at Lexa’s and one at the gun range where Bellamy worked. The remaining spot of light seemed to wander aimlessly in the forests north of the town.

“That’s gotta be Lincoln!” Octavia exclaimed, jabbing the moving light with her finger as if she could pin it in place. She moved to sprint out of the shop, but Raven grabbed her elbow.

“O, wait!” Raven shouted exasperatedly, “we need a fucking plan. What if they’ve done the same thing to Lincoln as they did to that corpse lying in the morgue? You can’t just run out there, half-assed, and expect to rescue the damsel in distress. No, we need to plan for the worst-case scenario and make some badass gadgets.”

Clarke and Octavia both snorted at Raven’s tech obsession, then got down to work nailing down a plan.

--------------------------------------

Four figures ghosted through the dappled moonlight illuminating the shadowed forest, three human-shapes and one massive wolf. The sable-and-tan colored wolf scouted a good distance in front and the other three jogged quietly, the only sound a creaking from a leg brace, occasionally referencing a bronze map. They traveled a good while before the one holding the map motioned everyone to halt. They froze in place, the wolf slinking back to the group. They held a brief, muffled conversation and then split. Two figures climbed trees and the remaining one ducking down into a clump of bushes. The wolf coasted forward, slower now and tense.

A earth-shattering roar broke the stillness and a grotesque shape exploded from the dark. The wolf fled in apparent fear, right into the trap they had laid. Bellamy skid to a stop, claws raking long furrows in the loamy soil, as the Reaper barrelled towards him. He yipped shrilly signalling Clarke and Octavia to drop from the trees with a glittering net spread between them, right on top of the monster. The Reaper’s skin sizzled as it thrashed at the strands holding it captive, but Raven’s silver-woven net was too well-crafted. Clarke and Octavia strained to keep the Reaper ensnared, thick leather gloves protecting the werewolf’s hands and arms from the caustic metal. Raven leapt out of the bushes, lightning arcing from a long black rod grasped in her fist. She charged at the beast and yelled for the others to let go. They sprang back, releasing the net, the Reaper rearing up to its full height and bellowing in triumph. Raven took advantage of the opening and rammed the shock stick into its stomach. It howled and seized violently before crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

Bellamy cautiously nudged it with his nose, and when it didn’t respond, rolled it to lay flat on the forest floor. Clarke and Octavia frantically wrapped it in the coils of rope Raven provided, while Raven secured a hefty muzzle over its snout. When they were finished, the Reaper was trussed up prettier than a Christmas goose. Bellamy allowed for ropes to be wound about his neck and chest and started hauling their prize back home. Every fifteen minutes or so, Raven shocked the Reaper again to keep it under. Just before sunrise, they finally returned to the workshop and tossed the monster into a heavily reinforced titanium cage.

“Fuck yeah! Success!” Raven fist-pumped the air in victory, “we bad bitches have just bagged ourselves a Reaper,” she dished out half-fives to everyone, even wolf Bellamy held up a paw for one before finding a quiet corner to shift.

“And we’re sure this is Lincoln?” Clarke questioned.

“Of course it’s Lincoln,” Octavia scoffed, “who else would be wearing a fancy locator bracelet?”

“Okay okay okay, you have a point,” Clarke responded, waving off the snarky reply, “so now what?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’? You’re the plan guy, I’m just the Q to your Bond, the Virgil Malloy to your Danny Ocean, the Abby to your Gibbs.”

“Raven...you realize I have no clue about anything you just said,” Clarke stated dryily, quirking an eyebrow at the mechanic.

“That’s besides the point. The point is that you’re the mastermind behind all this, we are just your humble minions.”

“Hey! Speak for yourself!,” Octavia countered, “I’m nobody’s minion. I’m a henchman , thank you very much.”

Clarke laughed and shook her head at their banter. This was a problem. They had successfully captured the Reaper that used to be Lincoln, but she had no idea what to do with him now. An idea struck her and she stuck her hand in Octavia’s back pocket to borrow her phone, disregarding her shout of “excuse you!”. She fiddled with it for a couple seconds before realizing she couldn’t unlock it.

“We have to call Jasper,” Clarke said, handing Octavia her phone, “he’s been working with Nyko on the Reaper corpse. Maybe he figured out a way to reverse the process.”

Octavia dialed his number before Clarke even finished her sentence. A groggy voice spilled out of the speakers.

“Yo, what the hell, O? It’s like five in the morning, don’t you ever sleep?” Jasper complained.

Octavia handed the phone to Clarke, who rapidly updated the talented chemical engineer on the situation. About this time, Bellamy returned, wearing nothing but a pair of Aden’s too-short sweats. He sprawled onto one of the old sofas against the wall of Raven’s shop, stuck thick earplugs in his ears, and promptly fell asleep. Jasper perked up as soon as he realized he had a live specimen to study and promised to come by the shop later that day. Raven led the way upstairs to her loft and the three girls collapsed in a pile on the bed, falling asleep in minutes.

Chapter Text

Thin morning light broke through the office windows to illuminate the form of a young brunette hunched over a desk. Lexa hadn’t slept in who knows how long and it was getting to her. Her eyes itched and her head felt foggy. But she couldn’t let herself sleep now. She had purposely endangered her wolves and it was her responsibility to get them all back in one piece. She’d gone over everything she’d learned a thousand times, attempting to work out a plan to rescue her packmates without losing any more of her people. The metal map sat untouched in her hidden drawer, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to check it since watching Lincoln be taken to the Mount Weather silver mines. No matter how she looked at it, the situation sucked balls. 

As the morning light hit her, she couldn’t take being in her office one second longer. She needed a break. So she rode her motorcycle to the morgue, hoping the Doc would have some good news for her.

“Good morning, Commander,” Nyko greeted, his voice far too perky for Lexa’s exhausted state, “what brings you to the morgue this morning? I certainly hope you’re not here to join the stiffs, though you look half-dead already.”

Lexa was not in the mood. She shot him a disgruntled stare before answering his question.

“I was hoping you would have some good news for me. Have you made any progress whatsoever on discovering how the ‘Red’ works?”

Nyko summoned Lexa over to his computer and pulled up a series of data files.

“From what we can tell, the Red isn’t causing the partial shift to werewolf. All it seems to do is lock that state in and deteriorate their higher brain function. We purified some of the drug from the body and applied it to some living werewolf brain cells.”

“Do I want to know where you obtained live werewolf brain cells?” Lexa interjected, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Ah, probably not. As I was saying, we treated these cells with the drug and watched it work. It somehow infiltrated the cells and triggered premature apoptosis, but only in cells from the prefrontal cortex of the brain. It seems designed to concentrate in that specific area. Also, the drug prevented any rapid mutation within cell DNA. If administered while the werewolf has shifted to that incomplete form, it would effectively prevent the cells from mutating further and completing the change. However, as soon as the drug was completely metabolized, the cells regained their normal function and healed completely. This seems to indicate that regular doses are necessary to maintain the altered form.”

“So, if I understand what you’re saying,” Lexa steepled her fingers together and tapped them on her chin, “the Red targets specific brain cells, causing them to basically commit suicide, while freezing all other kinds of cells in whatever state they were in when the drug was administered, yes?”

“Exactly, right,” Nyko looked impressed at Lexa’s succinct analysis, “I think all we need to do to cure the Reapers is simply keep them contained as the drug clears their system.”

“Finally, there’s some good news in all this. What about the sedative on the dart? Will you be able to replicate it?”

“It’s a simple enough concoction, now that I know what it’s composed of. Also, the sedative parts of it should be easy to counteract, though the silver still poses a problem. All you need is a large dose of adrenaline to kick-start your system. I can make sure all our patrols have a couple of syringes with them just in case.”

“That would be incredibly helpful,” Lexa placed a hand on his thick forearm, and examined his face, seeing the deep bags under his eyes and the strain, “thank you, Nyko. It looks like I’m not the only one who has been burning the candle on both ends. Go home, get some rest. We can’t have our only doctor unfit for duty, can we?”

They said their goodbyes and headed in separate directions, Nyko to his bed and Lexa to continue hammering out a plan to take down Mount Weather.

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Lexa was just passing Raven’s garage when a beastly howl had her skidding to a halt, the backend of her bike fish-tailing wildly. What in heaven and hell was that? It didn’t sound natural, whatever it was. Lexa sighed and massaged her aching head before bursting in through the closed doors. What she saw stopped her in her tracks. A massive, patchy, silver-furred, Reaper beat at the bars of a titanium plated cage. The perversely familiar scent of werewolf--musk and mint--and lavender and lemongrass was tainted with the sickly scent of the Red. Wait, is that... Lincoln , Sister Wolf affirmed soberly, completing Lexa’s unfinished thought. She looked to the left and saw Bellamy passed out on a couch, the ends of earplugs sticking out of his ears slightly. Lexa ascended the stairs to Raven’s living space, any sound she made covered up by the enraged Reaper clanging about, to see the three delinquents huddled in a jumble on the king-size bed. None of them had even removed their shoes before passing out. She headed back downstairs, grabbed a conveniently empty bucket, filled it to the brim with icy water and returned to the cuddle puddle. Situating herself where she wouldn’t get herself wet, she emptied the contents of the bucket over the sleeping bodies.

They all erupted into motion, scrambling out of the now soaked bed and onto the dry floor, right at Lexa’s feet. She heard a murmured “shit!” as Octavia peered up at her through a curtain of soggy hair. Raven was still sprawled out facedown and Clarke seemed to be blowdrying herself by radiating heat. Lexa raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and waited for an explanation.

“We, uh, that is, I,” Octavia started to stutter when Clarke stepped in front of her.

“What she means to say is that I coerced them into coming with me to rescue the wolves,” Clarke stated firmly, “I borrowed the map from your office, used it to track Lincoln, and brought him back here until he could be cured. We didn’t find any of the other kidnapped wolves, but hopefully Lincoln can help us rescue them.”

Lexa could sense that she was telling the truth, or what she believed as the truth anyway. There was no nervous sweat, no increased heart rate, nothing that would indicate falsehood. But her admission rocked the brunette to the core. All of it had been a ruse, none of what had happened in her office had been genuine. Not her apology, not their conversation, not even the kiss. Had Clarke only returned the kiss to keep Lexa from figuring out her deception? Had she known that pulling away would make the Alpha embarrassed enough to leave her alone in the office?

“So...you coming to my office, all of,” Lexa gestured vaguely with her hands to indicate their kiss, “ that , was, what? A diversion tactic? A way to get rid of me so you could ransack my private space and steal the map?” Lexa’s heart broke at the thought that the kiss they had shared was a lie, that the emotion she had sensed in Clarke was not desire, but deceit. Her emotionless mask cracked, the heartbreak seeping through. She hastily pulled herself back together, but not soon enough. She could tell that the blonde had seen her pain.

Not pausing to allow Clarke to respond, she addressed the other two delinquents, turning to them and letting her Alpha dominance surge through the room, dropping them to the floor and keeping them pinned.

“Octavia, the whole pack was under explicit orders to stay within town limits except for patrols and then only within the specific routes assigned. You blatantly broke the rules and endangered your brother, your best friend, and your charge. As you have demonstrated that you cannot contain your recklessness, you are forbidden from patrols. You will not leave this town under any circumstance. To teach you the value of patience, you are responsible for cleaning the training sand pits. On your own. With a litter scooper. If I am at all unsatisfied with your work, you will clean it again until I approve. We will play this off as if you were acting under my explicit orders. If I hear any differently from other in the town, I will destroy you myself.” 

Now Lexa turned the full force of her attention to the mechanic. “Raven, I understand that Octavia is your best friend and you are not technically one of my pack. However, this does not absolve you of the rules I have set. I am revoking your access to Aspen Creek pack funds except with my express permission. I will oversee any expenses you deem necessary. You are also prohibited from using any explosives from now until the foreseeable future. For now, Bellamy is assigned to watch over Lincoln. He is not to leave this workshop. If either one of you steps even a single toe out of line, I will have Anya beat you so soundly you cannot walk for a month.” Not even once during her proclamation did she so much as glance at Clarke. She knew her composure would shatter at the slightest glimpse of ocean-blue.

With that, Lexa whirled around and exited the building, ignoring Bellamy only now waking up on the couch. She kept a steady, even pace until she was through the metal doors. As soon as she knew no one could see her, she slumped against the wall beside the door and breathed heavily. How stupid am I? To believe that she cared? All she’s done is accuse and reject me, why would I think she shared my feelings? Sister Wolf keened, heartsick that her chosen match, the anchor of her soul, could have used them so cruelly. Love is weakness , chanted Lexa coldly, to be Commander is to be alone . She recited this mantra and tried to reseal the fractures in her battered soul.

She froze as footsteps approached the door, Clarke’s steps. She wasn’t sure when she had memorized the sound of the blonde’s stride, but she would know it anywhere. The footsteps stopped just before the door and there was the thump of a forehead hitting metal. She made out the sound of whispered curses. Clarke was berating herself for letting Lexa leave, for not explaining things right, for messing everything up so badly. The Alpha sat motionless against the wall, waiting to see if Clarke cared enough to come find her. Seconds stretched by as though they were hours. Lexa hoped against hope that she had misunderstood what had happened, that Clarke did care, that she hadn’t just been used the same way Clarke thought she had used her wolves.

Clarke pushed open the door and walked out, oblivious to the Alpha sitting against the wall. Lexa’s breath caught in her throat. Clarke spotted Lexa’s parked motorcycle and searched the woods in front of her for the brunette.

“Lexa?” Clarke tentatively called out, “Lexa? Are you still here? I...I’m so sorry,” those last words were a whisper as her face crumpled and tears started streaming down her cheeks.

Lexa silently stood and placed her hand on Clarke’s slumped shoulder. The blonde’s hands flared yellow when startled at the unexpected touch and spun.

“Lexa!” blurted Clarke, seeming both relieved and anxious as her hands fidgeted with a loose thread poking out from her jeans.

“Clarke,” Lexa started and meant to keep speaking, but no other sound would leave her throat.

“Lexa, can we, can we talk? Alone, I mean?” Clarke’s eyes were still saturated with pleading and something else Lexa couldn’t (or chose not to) decipher.

Lexa nodded stiffly and walked into the woods, away from the workshop, following a faint game trail through the brush. Clarke trailed after, still not saying anything more. After ten or so minutes traveling in silence, Lexa stopped, just in front of an old tree, her back to Clarke as she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly from her mouth. She touched the bark of the ancient pine to steady herself before turning to face the blue-eyed woman. As soon as she completed her turn, a mouth crashed onto hers, bloodying her lip and pinning her against the tree. Clarke grabbed Lexa by the shoulders and shoved her into the rough bark. Lexa let herself be manhandled as she froze in shock for a moment before gently yet firmly pushing the firebrand away enough to speak.

“Clarke, I thought--” Lexa didn't get to share what she thought as Clarke surged forward against her hold to ensnare the brunette’s lips once more. This time the Alpha didn’t resist and leaned into the fervor of Clarke’s embrace. This was not the sweet kiss they had shared the other day. This was a battle, teeth clashing, lips hungry, hands fisting in hair and shirts. Lexa was consumed in Clarke’s bonfire, drunk on her intoxicating scent. Clarke was the only air she needed. Sister Wolf pushed to the front, taking the reins Lexa had abandoned.

“Mine” she snarled, flipping their positions so Clarke was now the one pinned to the tree. She didn’t seem bothered by the change. The blonde used the tree to leverage her body up and wrapped her legs around Sister Wolf’s waist. She grasped Clarke by the throat with one hand, pressed her against the trunk, and nipped at her lip. Clarke gasped in pleasure, her heart rate ratcheting up and arousal wafting from her skin. Sister Wolf purred, primal satisfaction welling in her at being the cause of her soulmate’s pleasure. The hand not gripping Clarke’s throat slid up the silken skin of her side under her shirt, fingers digging in possessively. Clarke’s legs clenched even tighter and she tangled her fingers into Sister Wolf’s hair and yanked. Heat pooled in Lexa’s core as she wrested control back from her wolf and left burning kisses where her fingers had been on Clarke’s neck. Lexa brought her now unoccupied hand to Clarke’s ass and lifted her higher around her waist, giving her better access to the blonde’s hot mouth. Lexa swiped her tongue against swollen lips and Clarke eagerly met her intensity. Oh gods , Clarke tasted of mint toothpaste and sweat and pure ecstasy.

“Clarke, Clarke,” Lexa savored her name and whispered it reverently in gasping breaths between kisses, “I l--”

Another voice calling Clarke’s name interrupted them, she recognized it as Raven’s. Lexa hurriedly set Clarke back on the ground and attempted to straighten her mussed hair and clothes. Octavia and Raven came into view through the trees.

“Oh good, you’re both still alive,” huffed Raven, relieved no one seemed to be bleeding (Lexa surreptitiously wiped at her lip to make sure it had healed completely), “O and I were worried you’d blow up at each other if you were left alone for too long.”

Lexa flushed as Octavia nudged Raven and whispered something in her ear that was too low for even a werewolf to overhear. An impish grin stole onto Raven’s face in response to whatever Octavia had said to her. Lexa was going to kill the two of them one of these days, they were ruining her carefully crafted image of a stone-cold badass.

“Apparently that’s not the only reason we can’t leave you two alone together, eh?” Raven raised her eyebrows in mock scandal, “is it just me or are you looking a little disheveled, Commander?”

Sister Wolf must still have been close to the surface because she took a menacing step forward at Raven’s impudence, eliciting a flinch from the mechanic. The impertinent pair scampered back the way they came, muffled chuckles following them. Lexa sighed and hung her head. She was too tired for this. Clarke cleared her throat from next to the tree and inched forward.

“Sorry for ambushing you like that. I just didn’t want you thinking that I only kissed you in your office to distract you. That was definitely not my plan at all and just kinda happened and I mean it was amazing and I kind of panicked--”

“Clarke,” Lexa held a finger to Clarke’s lips to stall her rambling and raised an eyebrow, “I think you made your intentions fairly clear with your most recent demonstration. Come on, those two will start spreading rumors if we don’t catch up to them.”

She held her hand out to Clarke and her heart leapt when Clarke’s lips curved into a wide smile and she took the proffered hand. They made their way back to the shop hand-in-hand and with light hearts.

Once back at the garage, Lexa remembered why she had stopped there in the first place. Bellamy must have subdued the Reaper somehow because it was slumped on the bottom of the cage, breathing restlessly. Bellamy stood awkwardly near the bars, hand ashamedly scratching the back of his neck. Lexa fixed him with her gaze until he looked to the ground and exposed his throat. Satisfied that he had been cowed, she turned to the other troublemakers.

“What exactly were you thinking when you enacted this foolish plan?” Lexa scolded the four standing in front of her, “how the hell did you find and capture Lincoln?”

“Well, he was still wearing the tracking bracelet you gave him and Raven told us all about what they do,” Octavia explained as she stepped forward, “she figured that we could find him using the map and then ambush him to bring him back and hopefully cure him somehow.”

“But how did you manage to actually contain him without killing him?” Lexa was baffled by the relatively uninjured state of the group and the Reaper that was Lincoln, “Nyko only barely figured out how to replicate the sedative used on the captured werewolves.”

“Oh, that was easy,” Raven piped in, pulling out a metal baton from her boot, “I figured even these louts could be taken down by a big enough jolt of electricity, so I jerry-rigged this puppy to zap him with,” she demonstrated by pushing a button on the baton’s handle and bolts of blue lightning buzzed up its length for a few moments.

Lexa held out her hand in silent request and Raven handed over the shock stick. Lexa easily found the trigger on the side and lit it up. She could feel the sparking energy crawl across the stick in languid arcs. She disengaged it and handed it back to the mechanic, begrudgingly impressed.

“Raven also crafted a silver-woven net that we held the Reaper still with so she could get close enough to shock him,” Clarke said.

“I acted as the distraction to lure Lincoln into the trap those three set up and to make sure nobody else got hurt if it failed,” Bellamy added, “I’m bigger than O and that way she wouldn’t have to hurt Lincoln if he escaped.” Octavia sidled up to her brother and gave him a brief hug before moving back over to Raven and slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“And what were you going to do with Lincoln once you captured him?”

They all exchanged guilty looks that told Lexa all she needed to know.

“You had no idea what you would do, did you?” Lexa sighed in exasperation, reluctantly admiring that they had actually pulled off the risky endeavor without anyone getting seriously hurt, “Lucky for you, I just returned from talking with Nyko.”

“Yeah?! What did he say? Does He have a cure?” the group’s voices overlapped as they threw out questions.

Lexa held up a hand to quiet them.

“As far as he could tell, it seems that Lincoln should recover on his own. It will only take time and careful observation to make sure there are no adverse withdrawal symptoms. I suggest,” her tone making it clear that this was an order and not a suggestion, “we situate Lincoln in one of our reinforced holding rooms where Nyko can watch him more easily.”

Her command ended the conversation and they all worked to make sure Lincoln was unconscious and secured him in the bed of Raven’s truck for transport to the pack’s safe rooms. Bellamy, Octavia, and Raven all took the truck there, while Lexa and Clarke led the way on her motorcycle. Lexa called Nyko before heading over, updating him on the situation and playing off the Blakes’ insubordination as her own idea. By the time they arrived he was already waiting with his doctor’s kit. He helped carry the unconscious Reaper Lincoln into a steel-reinforced cement room and set him onto a simple mattress sitting in one corner. Nyko took his vitals and some blood samples and jotted his findings in a small notebook. They all filed back out and Lexa made sure to securely fasten the locks on the door. She filled Nyko in on all of the relevant details and tasked him with making sure Lincoln recovered. He happily agreed, eager to study a living specimen. Jasper turned up too while they were all still there, apparently Octavia had told him that he could study Lincoln too if he helped cure him. Octavia, Jasper, and Nyko all stayed at the safe house while everyone else left.

Lexa decided she was more than ready for a nap. Sister Wolf had been appeased by Clarke’s obvious acceptance of their relationship, or at least the initiation of it. The relief of seeing at least one of her kidnapped wolves home safe and sound, relatively speaking, and the resolution of the tension between her and Clarke came with a wave of exhaustion. She felt the anger and strain and guilt recede from her mind as things began to finally work out.

“Clarke? I am planning on returning to the cabin to get some sleep. Would you like to join me,” Lexa blushed at the implication and hastily corrected herself, “I mean, would you like a ride back to the cabin with me because you look like you could use rest as well.”

Clarke’s cheeks twitched as she suppressed a grin and accepted Lexa’s offer. They rode back to the cabin, Clarke resting her helmeted head against the Alpha’s back and wrapping her arms contentedly around her waist. The house was empty when they entered, Anya having left to supervise the training and the rest of the wolves busy at work or the pits. Clarke reached out and took Lexa’s hand as they headed upstairs, surprising her. It was the first time Clarke had initiated contact between them, other than the ambush earlier. Sister Wolf wiggled happily with their progress and chuffed her approval of the gesture. Lexa was further surprised when Clarke led them both into Lexa’s bedroom instead of parting to go to her own. Clarke snuggled into the comfy blankets and patted the bed beside her in invitation. Lexa could help but hesitate though. She vividly recalled Clarke’s trepidation during that first night they shared her room. She had sensed the blonde’s discomfort and smelled her panic when she had suggested they share the bed. She was wary of moving things too fast and scaring Clarke away. The firebrand became impatient and grabbed Lexa’s arm, pulling her down beside her. She turned her back to the Alpha and draped Lexa’s arm over her side. Lexa got the hint and scooted behind the blonde, pressing herself against Clarke’s back and hugging her waist. Clarke hummed in satisfaction and burrowed even closer before dropping off to sleep surprisingly quickly. Sister Wolf fought off sleep for a few minutes though. She was too happy with the feel of Clarke’s warm body against theirs to let sleep rob her of the sensation. Eventually, even Sister Wolf was forced to succumb to their exhaustion and they joined Clarke in blissful slumber.

Chapter Text

Clarke was enjoying the soft warmth of the body lying against her back. She felt so safe and content in these arms. When had that happened? All of the vitriol that had filled her at Lexa’s actions washed away like the ocean tide. It had been the sheer enormity of the heartbreak in Lexa’s eyes at learning of Clarke’s betrayal that had broken through her self-righteous spite. She had been so blinded by her own guilty conscience that she hadn’t realized how all of Lexa’s actions had been driven by her devotion to the pack as a whole, not just the individuals. 

When she had seen the anguished betrayal in Lexa’s eyes at the thought that Clarke had manipulated her trust and feelings, she was struck by just how badly she had fucked everything up. Wanting to do anything to heal the pain she’d inflicted on this woman who had done nothing but care for and help her, she’d followed the Alpha out of the workshop. She hadn’t known how she could possibly make up for the grief she’d caused until Lexa began her turn from the pine. It was then that she understood her anger had been rooted in deep affection for this remarkable Alpha and her fear of connection, and thus inevitable heartbreak. As Lexa began turning to face her, Clarke had come to a decision. She refused to be controlled by fear of the future. And so she had done the thing she was most afraid of. She had kissed Lexa.

She inhaled deeply, smelling cinnamon and sandalwood with the smallest dash of autumn apples. Soft breaths tickled the back of her neck and she wriggled slightly to readjust herself. That seemed to be enough to rouse the woman holding her. She felt the subtle tensing of Lexa’s body as she came awake and instinctively pulled the blonde closer into her. Clarke opened her eyes and rolled over to see stunning dark green eyes smiling at her. Lexa’s full lips echoed the feeling in her eyes as they curved up into a happy smile. Clarke let her hands trace the sharp curve of Lexa’s jaw and cheekbones. This woman is so incredible , Clarke thought, how could someone like her even exist? A gentle kiss on her forehead distracted her from her thoughts. She gave a little wiggle of happiness and felt Lexa’s answering chuckle. She tucked her head under the brunette’s chin and laid her ear against her chest to hear a steady heartbeat.

Fondness for the Alpha flooded through her as she realized how much Lexa must care for her to let Clarke have such power over her. The blonde had never been so deeply trusted by another person since Wells was alive. It filled her with remorse that she had taken advantage of  someone who was so willing to let her inside their heart. She had fucked up so badly with all of this. They should have come to Lexa first. They should have trusted that she knew what she was doing. Clarke should have trusted her, trusted this woman who had been nothing but honest (for the most part) and honorable. And what had she done? Destroyed her house, challenged her at every turn, undermined her authority, betrayed her trust. How can she be so forgiving when I reject her over and over? Fuck, how do I fix this? I can’t just let her overlook the things I’ve done. I’ve done nothing to deserve her grace  or love. She needed to make this right, clear the air and hope they can start over. Inhaling a deep breath, she steeled herself and was just about to speak when Lexa stretched and made to get out of bed.

“Lexa, wait--” Clarke reached out and laid a hand on the Alpha’s arm, stopping her from leaving.

“Clarke, as much as I would love to stay with you here forever,” Lexa said resignedly, “I happen to be the Commander of a rather large number of wolves. That job unfortunately entails I do some actual work once in a while. Especially now that you and your collaborators have so royally fucked everything up. Speaking of, now that I have gotten some actual sleep, Octavia really does deserve a more severe punishment. Maybe I’ll have Anya figure out what to do with her.” She tried to stand up again, but Clarke kept hold of her arm.

“Lexa, you have done so much for me and all I’ve done is spit your generosity back in your face. I don’t understand how you can forgive me so quickly after everything, after I betrayed your trust and sabotaged your plans.” Clarke’s face crumpled with regret as she remembered just how epicly she’d screwed up. “I don’t deserve your kindness. Nothing I could possibly do can make up for how I’ve hurt you.”

“You’re right.” Lexa laid her hand on top of Clarke’s where it rested on her arm. “I gave you my trust and you broke it. If I were the only one involved in this, it would be much more difficult to place my trust in you ever again. However, my wolf is quick to anger, but just as quick to forgive. Grudges are not in her nature. She sees you as her mate and because of that,” the Alpha paused and sighed, “because of that she will not let me distance myself now that you have seemingly accepted her advances. Hopefully your decision to involve yourself with me romantically was not rashly made or deceitful. You are mine now, Clarke.” A shiver ran down the blonde’s spine. “Sister Wolf will not let you betray us again. You would not survive the attempt.” Despite the warning her words conveyed, Lexa’s tone was level, if blunt. It wasn’t a threat, it was a fact.

“I know, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. You’ve given me a home and I think it’s about time I give you something in return. This isn’t out of shame or any misguided attempt to gain your sympathy. I give you my word that I will never take advantage of you again. Once you know more of my story, I hope you’ll see just how seriously I take that vow. So it’s not much, but I want to tell you my story.”

Lexa settled back onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, waiting patiently for Clarke to speak. The blonde wrung her hands anxiously as she tried to order her jumbled thoughts. No one had ever needed to hear the details of what she’d lived through. She hardly knew where to begin or how much to share. She wanted Lexa to understand , to see the fabric of her life in its entirety. Maybe, just maybe, it might help explain why she’d acted the way she did. Sudden anxiety constricted her chest as she tried to launch into the tale. Blood pounded in her head and she struggled to breathe. She wrestled with her rising panic, wanting desperately to just get it over with.

“Clarke, there is nothing you’ve done that could make me think less of you,” the sincerity in Lexa’s voice helped her reign in her dread and regain control of herself, “I have had to slaughter my own kind with my fangs and claws. I brought about death and witnessed unimaginable horrors. I am not fragile, nor am I ignorant of the terrible things we do to survive. Please, do not be afraid to tell me your story.”

The Alpha’s confident assurances bolstered Clarke’s resolve and she managed to find her voice again.

“I was born in a small village on what is now called Iceland, we didn’t really have a name for the place back then. My father was a craftsman who built and maintained the village’s longships, though he was most passionate about inventing new things. He was kind and intelligent and strong. My mother was the only midwife in the area, so she often had to travel to other villages to help deliver babies and treat other illnesses and injuries. She was always demanding and headstrong. We didn’t get along very well, which I realize now was because we were too similar if anything. My best friend, Wells,” Clarke choked up at the mention of Wells and had to take several moments to get rid of the lump in her throat, “Wells was my best friend. His father was the head of the village and often away on voyages, so we would spend almost all of our time together. His mother had died in childbirth, so we became his second family.

“One evening, my mother had to handle a difficult delivery so I was tasked with caring for several of the village children while their mothers helped with the birth. I dragged Wells along with me as usual. That night there was an unnaturally bitter snowstorm that blew through the village,” Clarke could still hear the howling of wind through the cracks in the loghouse and the pounding of hooves on icy ground, “the children were all asleep when the door burst open to reveal a coldly beautiful stranger with wolf-yellow eyes and a cruel smile. She and a few other Fae rushed in and captured us all before we could even really react. The last memory I have of my village is of the screams of the children and those burning yellow eyes.

“I guess they must have knocked me out because the next thing I knew, I was shackled in a cold dirt room with Wells. I had no idea where the children were or how we had gotten there. Soon enough, we were dragged to a throne room and introduced to the Fae responsible for our abduction. I never learned their real names, now I know how dearly the Fae guard their true names, but the two that I interacted with the most I called the Ice Queen and Wolf-eyes. They told us they planned on eating the kids, but I don’t know if that was their true intention. After meeting the Queen, I became property of Wolf-eyes,” Clarke shuddered and tried to breathe evenly, fighting not to be dragged back into those dark times of agony and torture, “sh-she, that one, she enjoyed pain,” Lexa laid a soothing hand on Clarke’s thigh, centering her in the present, “she did things to me, I-I can’t, can’t, can’t,” she started hyperventaliating until Lexa pulled her into her arms and began softly stroking her back, “sorry, it’s hard not to be pulled back there. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter what Wolf-eyes did. The point is that she enjoyed torturing me and I had to repeatedly live through my worst nightmares.

“I refused to give in though. I never did break the way they wanted me to. I almost wish that I had. Maybe it would have prevented what happened next. I don’t know what they did to Wells while I was with Wolf-eyes; we never talked about what we went through. Mostly we just held each other and tried not to lose our minds. It seemed like we were down there for weeks, but time doesn’t work right in Underhill. Either way, eventually I was dragged into the throne room again and the Ice Queen wanted to know if Wolf-eyes had thoroughly broken me yet. When the Queen learned of my obstinance, she decided that the best way to destroy me was to destroy what I loved,” fat tears rolled down Clarke’s cheeks, though she was numb to them, “the-they restrained me so I couldn’t run and then brought Wells in and tied him to the floor,” Clarke’s voice broke as she relived the moment she realized what was about to happen, “then they set these ghastly hounds loose and they ki-killed him. They tore him to pieces and I tried to save him but I couldn’t and I could only kneel there and watch as they ripped into him and I can still see his face,” Clarke was forced to stop again and focus on breathing before she could continue. 

“But that wasn’t enough for the Queen. Apparently they had kept the children alive because the guards brought them all out. They were so young, Lexa, they were so young and so scared and I felt so helpless. The guards didn’t even bother to secure them like they did with Wells. They just let them run away and laughed. Ugh, I can still hear the Ice Queen’s laugh, it was like the ringing of silver bells,” she shivered, overcome with a wave of nausea, “the hounds, those hellish beasts still haunt me. I watched as they caught the children, one by one. Most of the kids tried to run. I remember one, his name was Ethan, he was so brave. He tried to save his cousin but he couldn’t do anything. Gods, I can still see it all. There was so much red. It looked so wrong in that icy white room. Oh gods, Lexa, the Fae, they just laughed. It was like a game to them. One of them even threw one of the kids back into the pack of hounds,” again she had to fight off the urge to puke, “I screamed so loud and so long that my vocal chords bled. I could taste the blood and it tasted like theirs. Tris, she was always so quiet and gentle and kind, she tried to run to me. She begged for me to save her, Lexa. She was so small and innocent. I tried to reach her, I think I might have dislocated my shoulder with how hard I fought to get to her. She was so close to me. I could almost touch her fingers when the hounds caught her. I was close enough to feel the hot blood splash on my skin, on my face. Oh gods, oh gods, I fucking watched them tear into her like she was just a piece of meat,” by now her words were almost lost in the sobs wracking her body, “I swear I tried to save them, I swear I did everything I could but I couldn’t get free and they just laughed, oh gods, they watched innocent children be torn to shreds and eaten by monsters and they laughed.” A few minutes passed as Lexa continued rubbing her back soothingly while she choked on the anguish of the memories.

“I don’t know how I got back to my cell. I remember desperately trying to scrub Tris’ blood off my hands and face, but they wouldn’t get clean. I think I lost it for a while. I don’t remember anything but the cold and being so fucking alone . One day, a little girl appeared in my cell, at least it looked like a little girl. She told me her name was Tilly and that she could help me kill the Fae monsters that slaughtered my friends. She told me she was Underhill, but I didn’t understand what she was telling me then. I wish I had listened better. She promised that she would give me the power to destroy all these evil Fae who tortured me and killed the innocent. And I didn’t know any better. I thought I had nothing left to lose, nothing left that could be taken from me. But I learned how wrong I was. She followed through on her promise. She gave me control over fire, enhanced speed and strength, and the curse of long life. I don’t know if that still has effect here in the human world, but I can still use my fire so it might.

“I obliterated every last trace of the Ice Court. I melted it all to fucking slag. I burnt it all to the ground and murdered everything that moved. I didn’t care if they hadn’t actually done anything to me. In my eyes, doing nothing made them just as guilty as Wolf-eyes and the Queen. I came back a long time after, you know. Still no living thing grew in that damn place. Nothing survived my fire.

“I lost myself for a long time after that. I think I went mad with grief and pain and I just didn’t care anymore. Tilly, Underhill, she used me like her own personal flamethrower. I destroyed everything she pointed me at. I think she got bored eventually because one day it was like I woke from a coma. She showed me everything I had done in her hands. She was giggling like I should be proud of all the lives I decimated. She decided it would be more fun to see how long I could survive after that. She was constantly throwing monsters my way and forcing me to either kill them or run for my life. I have no idea how long I spent down there before I escaped. I remember hiding in a tiny cave, the monster chasing me this time was invisible but I knew it was too big to reach me in such a tight area. I was crawling back through this cave and it seemed to go on forever. Finally I reached a wooden door, of all things. I opened it and toppled out into a forest I had never seen before. It was that night your wolves found me. I had been able to start a fire and I was honestly just waiting for Tilly to prove this was all another trick to mess with my head. When your wolves attacked me, I thought it was proof that I was still in Underhill except Tilly couldn’t make me hallucinate actual people.

“But yeah, that’s it. That’s how I came to be here and how I ended up so far from home,” Clarke was completely drained by the end of her tale despite her nap. She felt empty and strangely light, as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She sagged against Lexa’s chest and waited for her to say something. Her heart hammered as the silence stretched on and when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she pulled back and falteringly looked up at Lexa. This toughened, commanding Alpha had tears in her eyes and a look of such profound empathy that Clarke’s breath left her. Lexa tenderly cupped the blonde’s face in her strong hands and just admired her for several moments.

“What?” asked Clarke, feeling far too vulnerable in this position.

“Clarke,” Lexa paused, seeming to search for the right words, “you are the most remarkable person I have ever had the honor of knowing. No one else could have survived what you have and preserved their humanity. You have experienced unspeakable atrocities and yet you still have such capacity to love and hope. How? I am in awe of you, Clarke,” the tears in her eyes had begun overflowing, leaving salty tracks in their wake.

Clarke was stunned at her response. In all the scenarios she had imagined, she had never considered anyone would react with awe . Disgust, fear, disappointment, those were all expected emotions when someone confesses to mass murder; not tenderness, not empathy. She was unprepared to deal with the compassion in Lexa’s eyes, so she just sat there, head held in the brunette’s hands. Lexa leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, then rested their foreheads together and breathed Clarke in. The ancient, fire-wielding Commander of Death finally felt she had found a home.

Their quiet moment was over too soon. Niylah was expecting Clarke’s help at the store and Lexa needed to check on Lincoln. They got out of bed and Lexa left Clarke alone to change her clothes. Clarke readied herself quietly, not wanting to completely dispel the feeling of peace their conversation had left in the room.

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Lexa closed the door softly behind her, briefly leaning her head against the old wood. Clarke’s story was so far beyond anything she could have imagined. Her childhood had been brutally ripped from her and she had spent centuries in a living hell. Lexa could scarcely comprehend how much her little flame had endured. She is strong, stronger than even we had thought , Sister Wolf commented, almost reverently. Lexa could only agree with her wolf. Even in Lexa’s own life, she had never faced half of the misery this astounding woman had. All of the lives she had taken, all the people she had lost, none of it could compare to losing everyone and everything she had ever known as Clarke had. Lexa was truly in awe of the strength and resolve displayed in her story. How can this woman still contain so much courage and compassion after living through such nightmares?

Lexa headed downstairs, still lost in thought as she processed all the firebug had shared with her. Her phone rang and she absent-mindedly answered, not looking at the number calling.

“Commander! I think I found something,” Finn’s excited voice echoed from the phone, “meet me where the ambush on our patrol happened!” He hung up without even waiting for Lexa’s response.

Lexa tried to call him back, but he must have lost cell signal because there was no answer. She tried Anya next, she was familiar with the spot and could act as a buffer between her and this irritating wolf. Her Second’s phone went straight to voicemail, so Lexa just hung up, knowing that Anya never bothered to check her messages. Damnit! What could she possibly be doing that required her to turn off her phone? She would have taken Gustus, but he was already out on patrol and not due back for a while. Fine, she was the big bad Alpha and Finn wasn’t nearly dominant enough to pose any kind of threat, even if he was aggravating in the extreme.

“Clarke?” Lexa called up the stairs, “I have to leave to help one of my wolves. Will you be fine riding with Octavia to Niylah’s?”

She waited for Clarke’s answering “yeah, that’s fine” before texting Octavia to let her know her friend needed a ride. She geared up, strapping on her sword and a couple daggers, before running off to Finn. She would have prefered to take her motorcycle, but the ambush site had been in deep woods and only accessible by foot. Setting a brisk pace, she easily jogged the five miles into the forest. It had been too long since Lexa had last taken a good run, so she enjoyed the stretch of muscles in her legs and back. In less than thirty minutes, she arrived at the small clearing still marked with signs of an obvious tussle. Where is that damn wolf? Lexa searched the open glade, but saw nothing pointing to where Finn could be. If that insolent pup is pulling our tail, I’m going to rip his off and make him eat it . Lexa chuckled at her wolf’s aggressiveness, but couldn’t help agreeing with the sentiment. A branch snapped behind her and she whirled around to see...nothing. Maybe I’m just being jumpy.

“Commander! Over here,” Finn called from the trees to her right. 

She cautiously made her way to his location, scenting the air and scanning her surroundings, still uneasy and not sure why. Finn was crouched low to the ground, facing away from her. He looked over his shoulder and waved her closer. She approached but stopped a couple feet from him, not willing to share personal space with this nuisance.

“What is it?” asked Lexa, exasperation evident on her face.

“Look, I think I found tracks that weren’t from any of our people or the freaks.”

Convinced that he might actually be on to something, she sidled closer and bent down to inspect the marks. Quicker than she thought possible, a sharp needle pricked her neck. A cold, biting liquid seeped into her veins. The burn of silver made her stomach roil and she fought against it, instinctively pulling strength and healing from the pack bonds.

“Oh no you don’t, fucking dyke,” Finn spat as he plunged a second and a third syringe in her neck, “this will teach you bitches to stay in your place.”

Fighting through the heaviness of her limbs, she flung herself away from Finn, landing a crushing kick to his kneecap on the way. Shaky legs crumpled as she tried climbing to her feet. Darkness swept over her vision as the ketamine worked in tandem with the silver to shut her body down faster than she could sweat it out. Her last view before blacking out was of Finn’s foot flying towards her head.

Chapter Text

Lexa swam through thick blackness, trying desperately to reach the light that was consciousness. With a gasp, she breached the surface, jolting to high alert and leaping to her feet. Halfway there, chains snapped taut around her wrists, keeping her in a painful hunker. The manacles burned where they made contact with the skin on her wrists and ankles, the only relief a slim band around her left wrist where silver was blocked by bronze. The silver around her wrists and ankles joined the burning ache of it in her veins, scraping away at her control and riling Sister Wolf. Something in her nature caused a more extreme reaction to silver than normal werewolves. Perhaps it was her mother’s medicine woman roots or the fact that she was a born werewolf. Either way, silver not only burned and sickened her, prolonged contact to large enough amounts enraged her Wolf beyond all reason, turning her into a beast much deadlier than the Reapers. Exposure to any more silver in her blood and on her skin would be the ultimate test of her self-discipline, in which failure meant death not only for her but for everything she came across.

Adrenaline made her heart race and her breath come out in pants. She had been drugged, chained, and thrown into a cage. Nothing around her was familiar in the least. Everything was overwhelming, too much noise, too many smells, too much of everything. As she felt herself begin to panic, the Alpha settled back on her back and took deep, calming breaths. Once she felt more centered, she looked around her once more, examining every little detail. 

Metal bars surrounded her on all sides, cutting her off from the vast, cavernous chamber. Her cage was close enough to the side of the space that she could see the rough hewn marks of mining tools on the dark grey stone walls. Cages similar to hers lined the walls, filled with humans, werewolves, and Reapers. The din of screams and roars was horrendous and Lexa had to fight the urge to cover her ears. The center of the room was dominated by stainless steel tables outfitted with silver-titanium restraints and a large stone slab with chains similar to the ones around her own wrists and ankles. Racks of surgical tools were scattered around the tables and drains in the floor were ringed in reddish-brown stains.

“So, what do you think of my home?” a sibilant voice wheezed behind her. She whipped around into a crouch and saw a frail, white-haired man in a faded blue-grey suit standing outside her enclosure. The racket of the Reapers and caged others had masked any sound he had made in his approach. A prominent nose and protuberant ears stood out from an otherwise plain face. Wrinkles framed murky blue, calculating eyes filled with contempt. Thin lips curled into a sneer as he stared down his nose at her crouching on the floor. The chained Alpha stayed silent, not meeting his gaze, denying him total control of the situation. If she was right about who this man was, eye contact would be a mistake. That was how they snared people, they could hold someone with their eyes and take control of their actions. Lexa was not about to abandon her will to this decrepit old man, if he could be called a man at all. She would hold onto any power she could right now.

“You’re nothing more than a beast, aren’t you? Your kind hasn’t changed much over the centuries, has it?” The man snorted in disdain. “Back when I was Made, your people were called savages and we were right to do so. Recent times are all about political correctness, but I know what you Indians really are: uncivilized brutes who serve no purpose other than as animals to be butchered.”

Lexa let nothing of the all-consuming rage she felt show on her face or in her posture. She was Heda , it would take more than a racist old man to break her control. She inhaled deeply to confirm her suspicions of who--of what --she was dealing with. A sickly sweet sharpness flooded her senses, tinged with old blood. Vampire , Sister Wolf snarled. It wasn’t surprising that this old-looking man was even older than he appeared. Unlike werewolves, vampires do not regain their vitality once turned, instead they are locked in the state their body was in before the change, young or old, without the ability to regenerate their youth. Indeed, and a rather old one at that, if he remembers the bloody days of early colonization . She wasn’t old enough to have been alive during the beginning of the European scourge, but she’d lived long enough to see these white invaders murder her people and infest her tribe’s lands. The Easterners had brought with them plagues, both of the literal kind and the supernatural. Vampires, Fae, and werewolves all came to the new world, fleeing the rise of Christianity, cold iron, and old enemies. They found a world already inhabited by a different kind of magic, the power of the Spirits of nature and the untamed wilderness. Vampires especially learned to fear those who drew on that power. Because of their fear, they slaughtered thousands of the native inhabitants of this land.

“Ugh,” the old vampire scoffed, “this one is too dumb to even speak.”

“Pretty enough though, it’d almost be a shame to turn her into one of our Cerberus’,” a new voice grated in Lexa’s ears, making her wish she could pin them back against her head.

A younger man stepped out of the shadows at the edges of the room, he shared the arrogant air of the first, but his features were sharper, handsomer, though an ugly scar twisted his upper lip. His linen suit was of a more modern cut and better cared for, less faded and age-worn. He walked up beside the other man and sneered down at her crouched in the floor of the cage.

“Hmph, she certainly doesn’t look like she’d have the brute strength to survive the process. Let’s see what she looks like as a wolf.”

The younger man crouched down quicker than anything she’d expected and she didn’t react fast enough to escape his gaze. Staring into her eyes, his irises swirled from mud-brown to glittering ruby red. They drew her in, like the gravitational pull of a black hole. She fought against the pull, but was caught helplessly in those gem-bright red eyes.

“ Shift ,” his voice pulsed with irresistible command. Her body writhed unnaturally, bones breaking, reforming, becoming. This change was much slower than her usual shifting, more painful too. Lexa’s mind battled against the alien stranglehold encircling it even as her body twisted from human to wolf. Lexa’s sides heaved with effort and pain. As she rose to all four paws, she could feel the manacles still clamped firmly around her legs. Her body shook as Lexa and Sister Wolf threw all of their might at driving the foreign presence out of their consciousness to regain control of themselves. Oblivious to her internal struggle, the vampires circled the cage, inspecting her like she was livestock.

“Stunning,” the older vampire admitted.

“But puny,” the younger retorted, “it looks like we got the runt of the litter this time. Maybe we should just skin her and hang her pelt on our wall?”

As the vampires continued to posture, the Alpha beat upon the coils of the vampire’s grasp. WE ARE THE COMMANDER, GODSDAMMIT. NO ONE CONTROLS US . With a titanic effort of will, they finally broke free of the bloodsucker’s thrall. No outward sign gave away their return to freedom, other than the cessation of their shivering. Lexa allowed Sister Wolf to take the reins for the moment as the parasites prattled on, exhausted with the effort of shrugging off the vamp’s hold. Most would have been incapable of the feat, but Lexa could never be considered average. It could have been an effect of her mother’s inherited power running through her veins, there’s a reason the vampires had tried to murder anyone of her mother’s kind. Perhaps one of those reasons was a partial resistance to their skill of enslavement.

Sister Wolf took the opportunity to observe their captors. Patience is the key to a successful hunt and Sister Wolf was an incredibly successful hunter. So she watched them interact, watched their expressions and movements. It was strange at first. Vampires do not fidget or breathe or react as a living being might. They were creatures of the grave, still and strange. Over time though, Lexa and Sister Wolf were able to interpret their body language enough to understand the gist of things. Vampires might not have the same pack dynamics as wolves, but there was still a hierarchy of power and Lexa had learned to interpret that centuries ago. The old man held the title of leadership, but in name only. The younger vampire feigned deference, letting the old one believe he still held the reins while undermining his authority at every turn. He was the one to watch out for. He would be devious and ruthless in achieving his goals. Lexa could see he enjoyed inflicting pain, it showed in the cruel smile that crept up his face every time he saw the burn marks the silver manacles left on her wrists. She saw insatiable hunger in those blood-red eyes, the kind that was for more than just blood.

“This one smells intoxicating,” the older vampire practically drooled, “she will make an exquisite sheep.”

The arrogance of claiming a wolf as a sheep, Sister Wolf jeered, we are nothing like the sniveling humans held in the vampires’ thrall . Vampires had come to describe the herds of humans they kept as living blood slaves as flocks and individuals as sheep. They rarely lasted very long; vampires were not known for playing nice with their toys. The old one is addicted to our kind’s blood. No wonder he has become impotent. Werewolf blood was like a drug to vampires. It became incredibly addicting and nothing else could satisfy the craving. This one’s addiction would also explain why they started abducting wolves . Maintaining this habit tended to shorten a vampires lifespan exponentially. Packs rarely tolerated parasites feeding off their own. The fact that these bloodsuckers had gotten away with it even this long was a testament to their cunning.

The vampires eventually became impatient with her impassive exterior and left her alone. She remained as a wolf though, it was infinitely more difficult to feed off a wolf and she hoped they might underestimate her and view her as an unintelligent beast. She tested the strength of the chains, but they were anchored too deep in the stone to yank free. Giving up on the useless effort, she curled up as best she could and watched.

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Time passed with unbearable repetition. Cage Wallace--as she learned was the name of the younger vampire--came daily to taunt and harass Lexa. This vampire was obviously in love with the sound of his own voice because he bragged constantly. He told her about the witch that had taught them to hide their scents and cover their trail. She had been a member of one of the original thirteen families and her bloodline had specialized in subtle magics meant to hide and disguise one’s true nature. For an exorbitant price, she had created talismans for the vampires that used blood magic to mask any sign of their presence, effectively hiding them in plain sight. It didn’t make them invisible, they could be seen, but they would make no tracks, leave behind no scents. He gloated over the wolves they had captured and how he had figured out the Red to create his Cerberus's--his name for the Reapers. His experiments had cost dozens of lives, the failures having either perished in agony or been put down by Cage. He had spent decades perfecting his serum. The seethe had moved into Mount Weather several months ago as the mad scientist needed a new source of werewolves and place of operations. 

Throughout it all, the Alpha remained as emotionless as possible. She couldn’t risk being injected with more silver, the bite of it on her wrists and ankles was already eroding her sanity like an itch she could never scratch. So instead, Lexa took all her rage and righteous indignation and turned it into glacial resolve, letting the heat drain from it and turn her to ice.

Cage waited for her to lose herself to the wolf, to give in to the bestial compulsions like every other wolf that stayed in their fur too long. Little did he know how different Sister Wolf was from every other werewolf he’d captured. There was little danger in her staying in wolf shape for long periods of time as Sister Wolf worked with Lexa as a companion soul and not as a mindless beast. The real danger came once he lost his patience with mere taunts and escalated. He would drug her and then chain her to the wall outside a cage to torture her. 

The silver from the sedative drug was worse than the pain of the beatings, continuing to drive Sister Wolf into a madness Lexa had never experienced before. Pain she could deal with, madness was another story. Lexa had to cling to her Heda mask with everything she had to keep the wolf from becoming the beast Cage expected her to turn into from the beginning. She clung to the part of her that was the Commander. The Commander was afraid of no one and nothing. The Commander never lost control unless it was strategically beneficial. The Commander was unbreakable, unflappable, incorruptible.

So she centered herself in that mindset and did her best to detach herself from the present to preserve her future. Cage was not nearly so patient. Her defiance drove him wild and he took out his aggravation on the wolf. His favorite tool was the cat o’ nine tails, a long multi-strand whip tipped in silver shards. He was obviously practiced in its use through long hours of experience. Every strike was precisely placed to cause maximum pain without allowing her to bleed out. The silver tips caused wounds that healed human-slow and further corroded her control. Sister Wolf was in constant agony, driven mad by the silver burning through her blood. Lexa’s soul ached with the pain of watching her soul Sister descend into madness. But all she could do was endure, though she did her best to retaliate when possible. The Commander taught him to never mistake her for a lesser wolf. He tried to get close to her once, mistaking her stone exterior for passivity. She nearly took his arm off that time. Since then he has been careful to muzzle her while she was drugged. 

Whenever she couldn’t possibly tolerate it a second longer, she pulled strength and healing from the pack bonds, immersing herself in the comfort of her wolves. It wasn’t something she did often, only when she feared she would break. If she wanted her wolves to be able to destroy this godsforsaken seethe, they couldn’t afford to be weakened by their own Alpha. She had ties to all of the Alphas in North America, but she refrained from taking strength from those bonds. It would require true desperation before that was a viable option. The likelihood of an Alpha noticing and taking advantage of her capture in an attempt to usurp her position was too high. She built up walls around herself and her wolf, using the torture Cage inflicted to harden them. Over and over she took the pain and the anger and the fear and transformed it into frigid steel surrounding her mind, protecting herself and the world from the demon she was afraid she was turning into.

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The day finally came when Cage tried to turn her into one of his pet monstrosities. He had his minions tranquilize her and fasten her onto a metal table in the center of the cavern. He forced her to meet his blood red gaze and commanded her to shift . This time his power found no hold on her, it slipped off her steel walls and could find no cracks to slither inside. Under no circumstances could she allow herself to succumb to the vampire’s demands. Becoming a Reaper was the worst possible scenario and it could not be permitted to occur. There’s no telling what would happen to her wolves if The Commander, Alpha among Alphas, who was bound to every North American werewolf by flesh and magic and blood, became nothing more than a freakish tool in a mad vampire’s hands. She could not jeopardize the existence of thousands of her kind or the innocents who could be slaughtered as victims. She stubbornly remained a wolf, not shifting a hair. In spite of this resistance, she knew sooner or later that Cage would succeed in turning her into a monster, one way or another. There was only one way forward that would ensure the survival of her people, if not herself.

With a mental prayer for her people, she gathered the strands of the bonds tying her to the werewolves and tethered them to Anya before severing every connection to herself. For the first time in over 200 years, she felt completely, utterly alone. Even Sister Wolf could offer her no comfort, lost as she was to her own frenzied madness. Lexa had no one. She had cut herself off for the good of the pack and the continent, but it had also detached her from the only source of relief she had left. It was this act of self-sacrifice that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lexa’s iron hold on control slipped as she was crushed with the weight of complete isolation. She no longer had anything left to be strong for, rescue would not come in time to save her from this captivity. She had ceded the position of Commander to Anya, confident that her sister and Second had the strength of will to maintain the peace. And so she finally let go and allowed herself to descend into the boiling silver-madness of her wolf. Without the anchoring influence of connection, the wolf’s manic need for violence metamorphosed into something darker, an oozing blackness of inhuman savagery. Icy malice suffused their being as both Sister Wolf and Lexa abandoned themselves to that insatiable void. All that was left in its wake was hunger.

Not realizing what Lexa had done, Cage raged at her resistance to his thrall. He called for lesser vampires from the seethe to hold her down as they tranq’ed her and chained her back to the wall. If he couldn’t command her the easy way, he would do it the fun way. Unfortunately for them, these parasites had been lulled into complacency by the composure Lexa had kept previously. They didn’t wait for the sedatives to take full effect before trying to drag her from the table. For many of them, it was their last mistake. The red wolf exploded into frenzied motion, teeth snapping and razor-sharp claws slashing through muscle and bone. Three of the vampires were annihilated almost immediately under the wolf’s savage attack. The rest frantically re-aimed their tranq-guns and attempted to shoot her. The closest vampires’ weapons were ruined by a swipe of her paw. They fled back towards the door, but were unable to escape the relentless beast. The maddened berserker wolf shredded them as though they were paper. Her rampage was only halted once the second wave of darts pierced her hide and injected their insidious payload into her bloodstream. Finally overcome by the burning silver and sedatives, she crumpled to the stone floor and succumbed to oblivion.

When she next came to consciousness, she was chained spread-eagled to the slab of stone close to the metal tables. Her joints were cruelly twisted out of place as her wolf body was forced into such an unnatural position. Still lost to the berserker in her, the wolf thrashed against her bonds with all her prodigious strength. She refused to be contained while her tormentors still walked free. Chains creaked ominously as she threw all she had into breaking them. But it was a wasted effort. Even the berserker was left helpless from the silver running through her veins.

Cage stepped into view once she had exhausted herself enough to quit straining, a wicked looking knife in hand. The evil seeping from his eyes promised pain the likes of which she had yet to experience.

“You will live to regret murdering so many of my seethe, beast,” Cage spat, “I will make your every moment an unending agony.”

He kept true to his promise. The wolf tore against the restraints holding her legs, neck, and muzzle to the stone as the knife slid under her skin and began tearing it from her body. She roared in pain and fought all the harder to liberate herself. The knife slipped as she struggled and sliced deep into exposed muscle. Cage was careful not to nick any major arteries; he didn’t want his pet to bleed to death. It took him an excruciatingly long time to be satisfied in his task. Finally, he stepped back off the blood-splattered slab. He hadn’t quite managed to flay her skin from her bones, but he left her keening in short, tortured gasps. He licked the blood from his fingers, baring delicate white fangs in a sadistic smile.

“You taste so sweet, my little pet,” Cage taunted, “maybe once I’m done playing with you, I’ll let my weakling father sate his need with your blood.”

He left her there on that slab as her mutilated body slowly repaired itself. It became a game with him, exploring how far he could go without actually killing her. The berserker that had once been Lexa never stopped raging to be freed, blind to everything but the master of her torment. It was his destruction she wanted most of all and all that she did was to achieve that end. 

Deep beneath the mindless berserker, so deep that it had no awareness of the fact, Lexa and Sister Wolf were adrift. Sister Wolf hibernated, curled into a ball as she tried to heal from the madness inflicting her soul. Lexa floated through the oceans of her memories. One moment she was again a young girl spending hours in her grandfather's smoky hut as he recited the legends and history of her tribe, immersed in the gravel of his voice and the smell of the pipe tobacco he smoked. Then she relived her early training days with Titus and Anya, sitting through endless lectures on leadership and picking herself up from the dust as Anya beat her down again and again. Long-buried memories of Costia carried her along in their currents. She was overcome with images of chocolate brown skin and honey-amber eyes. She remembered the humanness of her, the fragile body that held the spirit whose tenacity could wear down even the strongest of Alphas. She sank into the years spent crusading through the continent, uniting the wolves. Lexa once again was bathed in blood as she ripped out the throats of countless wolves when they thought to challenge her right to Command. Throughout all this, she returned again and again to drown in eyes of the clearest ocean blue, hair the pale gold of corn silk, a fiery temper that could not be restrained, a strength of will that drove her to irrationality, calloused hands that twined in her braids and caressed her skin, lips soft as velvet, warm and tasting of sweet fire, the scent of smokey bourbon and burnt molasses. Clarke, Clarke, I am sorry, we will come home to you, no matter what it takes, no matter the cost . Please, wait for us .

Chapter Text

Lexa’s voice filtered up from downstairs, asking Clarke if she would be okay getting a ride to work with Octavia. Clarke’s heart sank a little when she heard that Lexa had been called away, but she replied that it was fine and listened as Lexa left the house. Riding on the back of Lexa’s motorcycle was the perfect excuse to hold her new what? Girlfriend? Lover? What are we now? Clarke wasn’t sure how to define her changing relationship with the Alpha. Things had escalated so quickly it had Clarke reeling. She was completely unprepared to deal with a relationship right now. She had just barely escaped from Underhill for gods sakes! She hadn’t had so much as one normal friendship in forever and now she was falling in love. Wait, did I really just think that? Am I falling in...love? With Lexa? Fuck.

Feeling the need to distract herself from her jumbled thoughts, she headed downstairs and perused the small book collection in the living room. Nothing seemed interesting enough so she wandered into the kitchen. Someone had left a few pieces of paper and a pencil on the newly restored kitchen island. Clarke sat at the counter, took up the pencil, and started to draw. Images from her memories flowed from her pencil: the griffin she had painted on her father’s longboat sail, a pattern of roots weaving through the ceiling of her cell in the Fae Queen’s court, a lone tree she had taken shelter in standing tall in a field of waving grass, an intimidating mask of spiky black warpaint, almond-shaped eyes staring into her soul. 

Her pencil jerked across that paper, marring her sketch, as Octavia burst through the front door. Surt’s sword! I swear that woman wouldn’t know quiet if it hit her with an axe! Octavia sauntered into the kitchen, probably planning on raiding Lexa’s fridge, and saw Clarke sitting at the counter. Before Clarke could hide the sketches, Octavia snatched them away and ran around the kitchen trying to look at them as Clarke chased her and attempted to snag them back.

“O! Let go!,” Clarke chided, stretching onto her tiptoes to reach Octavia’s waving hand, “those are mine!”

“Wait, just let me see them,” Octavia whined, fending off the firebug with one hand and holding the papers overhead in the other.

Clarke gave up fighting to reach the drawings and shot a line of fire out of her palm, hitting the papers deadcenter. Swearing, Octavia dropped the burning sheet and stuck her singed fingers in her mouth. She stared at Clarke, wounded by her refusal to let her look at the sketches. Clarke just huffed and strode out of the kitchen, leaving Octavia to follow. The younger Blake was too nosy by half and deserved a lesson in not messing with other people’s stuff, or so Clarke told herself as she stomped out to the car. Octavia soon followed and seemed to forget all about the incident, telling her about how awful cleaning the training pits was and how annoying Bellamy was being. Clarke had learned to mostly tune her out without leaving the wolf feeling ignored. Octavia had apparently decided to stop by Raven’s, even though they’d just come from her place hours earlier, because they pulled up out front and she hopped out. Clarke trailed after, eager to see how Raven was coping with her new restrictions, compliments of the Commander. Clarke enjoyed having people she could call friends, even if these two had boundless energy. It was easier for Clarke to cope with it when they had each other to diffuse the focus from her.

Octavia banged through the doors, but the sound was lost under Billie Eilish’s ‘You Should See Me in a Crown’ blaring in the shop. They searched the ground floor, but Raven was nowhere to be found. Clarke headed upstairs while the other girl went down to the storage area. Clarke poked her head in through the open door at the top and just as quickly recoiled. It had only been a quick glimpse, but even just a glance of two moaning women, very much naked, was more than enough for her. She had no idea Raven was that flexible. She stumbled back downstairs and literally ran into Octavia, who had been about to climb up.

“Trust me, you do NOT want to go up there,” Clarke insisted, “Raven is definitely not alone and definitely quite naked.”

Octavia’s eyes nearly popped from her head in shock at Clarke’s revelation. Ignoring the warning, Octavia sprinted upstairs with her eyes closed and hammered on the open door, hollering at Raven to get dressed and then sprinting back down to avoid the wrench hurtling towards her head. The wrench flew down the stairs and thunked into the wall an inch from Octavia’s head. Clarke and Octavia howled with laughter and collapsed onto couches to wait for the lovers to come down. Soon enough, a heavily rumpled Anya stumped down the stairs with an equally disheveled Raven, shirt backwards and missing her brace. Clarke laughed even harder when she noticed that Anya had accidentally gotten her shirt stuck under her bra and apparently hadn’t realized it yet. The pair of lovers glared at the laughing girls and harrumphed.

“So you finally banged the hot werewolf!” Octavia burst out between waves of laughter, “Your life’s work is complete.”

Octavia had been looking at Raven for a reaction so she was blindsided when Anya tackled her off the couch. They wrestled back and forth, Octavia still cackling and Anya growling at her disrespect for the pack Second. She had the younger wolf pinned belly down on the floor in a chokehold within seconds, but even Octavia’s submission did little to quell her mirth. Raven strode over and kicked the troublemaker in the thigh in retribution before helping Anya off her. Anya rose gracefully and wrapped her arms around the mechanic, pulling her in for a flamboyant kiss that had the others playfully gagging in mock disgust.

“Alright, as much as we’re glad you two finally hooked up, we don’t need to stick around to watch it,” Clarke joked.

“Speak for yourself!” Octavia winked lewdly and then flinched back when Anya faked a lunge her way, “okay okay, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Anya pulled her phone from her pocket as Clarke joked with the other girls. Her expression caught Clarke’s attention and she focused on the Second.

“What’s up, Anya?” she asked.

“Lexa called while my phone was off.”

“Oh yeah, she said she got a call from a wolf who needed her help. That’s why I hitched a ride with O. She didn’t sound worried about anything when she left, though.” To be honest, Clarke might not have noticed if Lexa was worried seeing as how she was a little distracted by her own thoughts.

“Alright then, she’ll pop back up soon enough,” said Anya, confident in the Commander’s ability to defend herself.

Anya headed out soon after, needing to see how the training was going and deal with pack duties. Octavia and Clarke stayed for a bit to catch up with Raven and interrogate her on the Anya situation.

“What the fuck, Rey? Does she not know we’re in deep shit with the Commander?” Octavia blurted out as soon as she was sure Anya was out of earshot, “And I thought you were still firmly in the ‘flirting suggestively’ phase!”

“She never mentioned anything so I guess Lexa hasn’t gotten around to it yet,” Raven replied, “And I wasn’t really planning on stepping things up at the moment, but then she came over so I could fix her phone again, I swear she breaks it on purpose, and things, ya know, escalated.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! Tell me everything.”

The crew all sprawled on the couch--Clarke perched on the arm to avoid most of the cuddle puddle--as the mechanic spilled the tea. From the way Raven told it, Anya had swooped in like some Casanova and made the first move. Apparently the Second had been getting impatient with the games and went straight for the kill. Raven was more than happy to go with the flow and they soon ended up in the bedroom, with some detours along the way. Clarke and Octavia both sprang off the couch when Raven implied one of their ‘detours’ had ended up on that very couch.

“Raven!” Clarke exclaimed, thoroughly grossed out that she’d been sitting on a sex couch, “promise me your gonna clean that before the next time we’re here.”

Raven made no such promise, so Clarke had to threaten to cleanse it with her fire. This then turned into a contest of who could come up with the most ridiculous threat. Octavia declared Clarke as the winner of the battle after her extravagantly explicit description involving bodily orifices and how well she could focus her flames. Octavia got a call from Niylah wondering where Clarke was, ending their fun. Octavia dropped Clarke off in front of the store and left to return to Lincoln’s side.

Clarke entered the store, the bell above the door ringing and making her grin. Niylah appeared from behind a shelf and wrapped Clarke in a huge hug. Niylah was still the only one outside of Lexa who Clarke allowed to trap her like that. She breathed in Niylah’s jasmine scented perfume and relaxed. She never realized how tense she was until Niylah’s Omega aura let her fully relax, though, if she thought about it, Lexa had a similar effect on her. Lexa wasn’t Omega, but Clarke always felt so safe around her. Something about the Alpha made her feel at home. That’s what it was, Lexa felt like home in a way even her village had not. This realization made Clarke pause and Niylah had to poke her in the shoulder to get her attention.

“What’s on your mind, hun?”

“It’s nothing,” Clarke replied, though obviously Niylah didn’t buy it so she went on, “I don’t know, it’s just Lexa.”

At the mention of Lexa, Niylah’s eyes lit up with understanding and she shifted into more of a side-hug instead of holding Clarke around the waist. Clarke noticed the change in body language and cocked an eyebrow in a question. Niylah waved off the question and prompted Clarke to continue.

“I’m not sure I should really talk about it, Lexa’s not big on people knowing she has actual emotions,” Clarke chuckled a little at her own statement.

“Sweetheart, that woman has always been an open book to me,” Niylah replied, returning Clarke’s smile, “If you know what to look for, that girl’s just a big pile of mush. She can’t help but melt for a pretty woman. But I promise, nuthin’ said here will ever pass my lips,” she made a locking motion over her lips and threw away the key. 

Clarke was comforted enough by Niylah’s promise to confide in her. She told her about their first kiss and all the small moments they shared. Niylah listened intently, a soft smile on her face at how this firebrand had so easily wormed her way into the Commander’s stone heart.

“How much do you really know about werewolves, hun?” Niylah asked carefully once Clarke was done talking.

“Only what I’ve learned since being here.” Clarke was confused at the sudden change of topic and a little put out that Niylah didn’t seem to want to give her advice.

“Alright then, I’m gonna explain some things about us werewolves because heaven knows Lexa will refuse to do it herself for as long as possible. Bless her heart, but she is the most self-sacrificing, stubborn soul I have ever known. So here goes: werewolves have a dual nature, both human and wolf. When it comes to love, usually the human falls in love and they get hitched or live together or do whatever it is they do. It generally takes years for the wolf to accept their partner as their mate.” Niylah must have seen the look of concern on Clarke’s face because she clarified, “Mates for werewolves aren’t really a sexual thing, though that is an important part. No, mated pairs are linked soul-to-soul. They’re able to sense the other’s emotions, pain, pleasure, anger, fear, all of that. Sometimes the mating bond comes with other abilities: mind-to-mind communication, being able to always know where their mate is, and the like. Female werewolves are quite rare, not that you would know it from our pack, so most wolves end up having human mates. Because of how long-lived we can be, most of us have more than a few mates throughout our life as we outlive our human mates and are forced to either move on or bring about our own death. Thing is, the Commander’s always been a lil different. Her wolf isn’t like the rest of ours, she’s canny as a fox and downright intelligent. I think that’s part of the reason Lexa’s been able to unite all the werewolves and why she’s so incredibly dominant. I also think that her wolf is drawn to you somehow; I think her wolf has chosen you as her mate, regardless of how Lexa might feel about it.”

“But--” Clarke interjected, only to have Niylah lay a finger against her lips to shut her up.

“Excuse me, I was not done talkin’. Now mind your manners and listen. You still have plenty of choice in the matter. Her wolf might have chosen you, but Lexa would never force you into anything. She is far too honorable to do sumthin like that. But I also think Lexa the human feels deeply for you and that is a rare thing. I’ve been around a long while and I’ve only ever seen her this soft around one other person.”

“Costia,” Clarke breathed, remembering Lexa’s mournful admission that day in her office.

“How do you know about Costia, hun?” Niylah looked shocked that Clarke would know this.

“I’d had a bad dream the night before and she asked if I wanted to talk about it. All I told her was that some losses never fade and she told me that she had loved someone named Costia who had been tortured and killed because she belonged to her.”

“Hmm, Lexa hasn’t told anyone that story. Until you. She’s old, Clarke. I don’t know specifics, but she was alive at least three hundred years ago. And in all that time, Costia was the only one she’d ever really allowed herself to love. Even then, her wolf never did choose her as mate. The wolf accepted her as the woman Lexa loved, but they weren’t mate-bonded. So you see, there’s sumthin about you, sweetheart. Sumthin special that Lexa can’t help but love you for. Now, this might be sticking my nose in where it don’t belong, but I suggest you love that girl and keep her close sumthin fierce. You’ll never be able to find a woman good as her in this world again. She deserves someone who will love her right and you deserve someone who will treat you like the treasure you are. Now, we been sittin’ here flapping our gums while there’s work to be done. I need you to restock the candy jars. Now scoot!” Niylah shooed her away and went to reorganize a row of shelves while Clarke did her assigned task.

Stocking candy jars was mostly busy work, so Clarke had plenty of time to think about all that Niylah had told her. It was a lot to take in about wolves and mates and Lexa. She hadn’t known what to expect when revealing her confusing relationship with the Commander, but this certainly hadn’t been it. Lexa was a complicated woman, she did what was best for her people no matter the cost to herself. But with Clarke, it was like she dropped her mask. Clarke had seen deep emotion in Lexa, passion, empathy, abiding fortitude in the face of seemingly insurmountable struggles. The Commander was only part of the intricate and beautiful soul that was Lexa. She loved fiercely and had a profound understanding of people, werewolf and otherwise. Duty bound her to care for her wolves, but it was a deep-seated vision of a better world that drove her to unite the packs and create a haven in her town. But could someone like her truly love Clarke? The blonde knew how broken she was inside. Her soul was a wasteland, burned to ash in the fire that had consumed so many others. She knew that she was not good , not like Lexa. She had carelessly slaughtered too many, allowed too many of the ones she was to protect be tortured and murdered horribly. No one could love anyone whose hands were soaked in the blood of so many innocents. And yet, Niylah hadn’t been lying when she told Clarke that Sister Wolf and Lexa both felt something for her, both wanted her. A flicker of hope fanned brighter in Clarke’s long-dark heart. Maybe , she thought, remembering her words back in Lexa’s office, maybe even someone like me deserves better than just surviving.

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Worry ate holes through Anya’s stomach. Worry wasn’t an emotion the Second often experienced. Anya was supremely confident in her own abilities and the competence of her sister, the Commander. A situation rarely occurred that they couldn’t handle, and when it did come up, Gustus was right alongside. The three of them had always been an unbeatable team. They had united the thousands of werewolves over the entire continent, surely there was nothing in their own hometown that could endanger the Commander. But it was unlike her to be incommunicado for so many hours. Anya had tried calling her back multiple times with no success. She tried searching for her in the pack bonds, but the bright string of their connection was choked, as if she was unconscious. That was what truly troubled her. Lexa was definitely not anywhere she would feel safe napping and Anya only knew of one thing that could knock out a werewolf against their will. Shit.

She sprinted back to the cabin and tracked Lexa’s trail to the site Quint and the patrol had been ambushed. What the fuck was she doing here? I combed this place five times over, there shouldn’t be anything left to find. She entered the clearing warily, casting around with her nose to identify any other scents. There, what is that? She sniffed again, werewolf and the pungent scent of ginkgo seeds. Finn, that rat bastard. Why is he here? His scent is too recent to be left from the ambush . She followed the scent a few yards into the forest, away from the clearing before it vanished, just like the Reapers’ trail had. That cock-sucking, whore-mongering, mother-fucking, ass-faced, douchenozzle, fuck-stick, cockwaffle, assclown, sonuvabitch! Anya continued her string of swear-words as she scoured the scene for any evidence of where they had taken the Commander. Scuff marks indicated that FInn had attacked first and Lexa had tried defending before hitting the ground and being dragged off. Though where she had been dragged off too was a mystery.

Seething at the lack of leads, Anya whipped out her phone and called Gustus. She rapidly filled him in on Lexa’s disappearance and Finn’s involvement as she raced back to town. They needed a plan. If the rebellious Alphas learned that the Commander was missing...this was bad, very bad indeed.

Chapter Text

Clarke threw down her cards in victory: four queens. Octavia, Jasper, and Nyko all groaned as she scooped the Oreos towards her already impressive pile. They were sitting at a card table set up next to Lincoln’s recovery room playing poker. Niylah had dropped Clarke off after a few hours to check in on the wolf turned Reaper. The poker game had started out as Octavia teaching Clarke how to play and the others were promptly roped in. Waiting for Lincoln to sweat out the drug wasn’t exactly thrilling, but Nyko had to stay to monitor him and Octavia couldn’t bear to leave him for more than a few hours at a time. So they tried to tune out the angry roars next door and entertain themselves.

Poker with werewolves was a unique experience. Any lie or spike in heart rate was noticed. Any physical sign of excitement or disappointment could be easily spotted and used against you. Clarke quickly adapted by focusing on her more intimate memories of Lexa to make her heart pound and throw off any scent markers the wolves would try to clue into. Just the thought of Lexa’s velvety lips and intoxicating smell was enough to drive up her heart rate and release aroused hormones from her skin. It was an effective strategy, her opponents were so confused by her fluctuating body signals that she won hand after hand. Gustus stood in the corner watching with stoic amusement as she trounced these wolves. The Third had shown up a bit ago after being updated on the situation by Nyko and wanting to check on the rescued Reaper.

Clarke saw him move out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see him put his cell up to his ear. Her heart dropped as she watched his face blanch, the blood rushing out and leaving his normally ruddy skin pale. She waited breathlessly while he had a short conversation, his face getting whiter with every second, making his black tattoos stand out starkly on his skin. All of the other wolves had stilled, listening in to the call with their sharp hearing. No phone call was ever truly private with werewolves around. Only she and Jasper were clueless as to what had just occurred.

“What?” Clarke questioned, a little frantically, “what happened? Who was that?”

“It was Anya,” Nyko replied, voice cracking a little, “the Commander has been taken.”

He continued speaking, but his words were drowned out by the buzz rising in Clarke’s head. His last sentence echoed over and over as she tried to make sense of it. No, she can’t be. She can’t be gone. She’s the Commander, for Odin’s sake! No one was supposed to be able to get the drop on her. Her thoughts spiraled out of control as she fought against the dread crawling up her spine and constricting her throat. She stumbled out of the room and out into the cool evening air. She was blind to everything around her, she couldn’t breathe. This can’t be happening again. I can’t do this again. She hadn’t realized that fire was licking up her skin until a hiss from behind her startled her back to the present. Octavia was standing there shaking her singed hands in pain. Clarke babbled out an apology, extinguishing her flames, and Octavia pulled her into a tight hug. It was too much for Clarke though, too confining and claustrophobic. She pushed herself out of her arms and plunked down onto the curb. Octavia sat gingerly next to her trying to avoid crowding into her space. Clarke hung her head between her knees and tried to calm her breathing. A hand touched her back and she flinched before relaxing into Octavia’s comforting touch. She focused on the circles her friend rubbed onto her back and tried to reel her panic back in and under control.

“Clarke,” Octavia spoke up softly, “it’s okay. It’s going to be okay, just breathe.” Octavia continued to talk soothingly and eventually Clarke was able to return to some semblance of control, “hey, you back with us?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clarke croaked, voice even raspier than normal, “sorry for burning you. Usually my control is better than this.”

“It’s fine, already healed, see?” Octavia held out her hands and Clarke saw they were unblemished, “we should go meet up with Anya and everybody. They’re all back at the cabin.”

Octavia rose and helped pull her back to her feet. They drove to the cabin and found Anya, Gustus, Raven, Nyko, and Bellamy gathered in Lexa’s office. Clarke’s heart dropped once more walking into this room that encapsulated so much of the woman she was terrified she’d never see again. Everyone was crowded around the large mahogany desk looking at Raven’s magical map. Clarke edged up to the desk and examined it. Three dots of light glowed from the location of the cabin: Octavia, Raven, and Bellamy. The fourth light shone from Lincoln’s location. But there was a fifth spot, a pinprick of light gleaming from the center of an ‘x’ marked on Mount Weather.

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They had been brainstorming for hours already, debating how they could possibly assault the mountain and rescue their Commander. The problem was their indisputable lack of information. They still knew next to nothing about who they were facing and what was waiting for them. All their speculations and scouring through the Commander’s notes could only do so much. Finn had disappeared along with the Commander, so they at least knew who the traitor was, but that didn’t help them narrow down their options. Finally, Anya motioned for everyone to stop talking.

“Look, we’re getting nowhere with this,” Anya stated, “our only real option at this point is to wait for Lincoln to recover. Hopefully, he can give us actionable intel about the enemy we’re facing here. We’re all exhausted, so everybody go home and rest up. Tomorrow we’ll reconvene and see what the fuck we can do.”

Everyone headed back home, Octavia and Raven both giving Clarke tight hugs before leaving. Anya stopped her before she exited the office with a hand on her shoulder.

“Here,” Anya handed her a black smartphone in a sturdy-looking case, “it’s about damn time you have your own and we can’t afford to be out of contact right now. I’ve already added everybody’s number in the contacts.” She showed Clarke how to set up a password and all the basics and then shooed her out. Clarke trudged to her bedroom, but couldn’t bring herself to enter.

She went back downstairs and sat out on the deck, heating up her skin to ward off the chilly night air. Taking her phone from her pocket, she pulled up the contacts list and hit a number.

“Mmmhello,” Niylah’s sleepy voice drawled out, “who’s this?”

“Niylah,” Clarke whispered, her voice giving out after that single word.

“Clarke, hun? Is everythin’ alright?”

“Can y-you..never mind, just forget I called,” she fumbled to hit the ‘end call’ button and sank down onto the deck, curling into a ball with her back against the railing. She couldn’t bring herself to ask for a witness to her hysteria. She didn’t deserve comfort and who was she to ask Niylah to come all the way here just to have Clarke weep all over her about another woman?

Her phone rang twice more, but she ignored it in favor of clasping her head between her knees and trying to stave off the insidious hallucinations of her days of torture in the Fae Ice Queen’s court. It felt like she was cursed with misery, like she was a poison killing everyone she touched. The first person she’d come to love after centuries of isolation had been stolen away, just like she had, just like Wells and Tris and Ethan and all those kids she’d failed so long ago. And again, she was helpless, powerless to do anything but wait . The cold seeping into her body was again the chill of stone floors and dirt walls instead of Montana autumn night air. The light from the house becoming the sourceless flickering light of her cell. No, no, no, I can’t go back, I can’t go back, this isn’t real, no, I killed them, they’re dead, they’re all dead, I killed them, they can’t be back, please, gods, no. Strong arms wrapped around her and she burrowed into Wells’ embrace, the only sanity she had left in this horrid place. His low, soothing words calmed her, just as they always did. She breathed in his...wait no, this wasn’t Wells. She fought against the flashback, concentrating on the very real arms holding her and the unmistakably Southern voice crooning comforting sounds. This wasn’t Wells, she wasn’t in Underhill, she had escaped, she wasn’t a prisoner, this was Aspen Creek, she was being held against a familiar body.

“Shhhh, honey, you’re okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re safe. You won’t ever have to go back there,” Niylah murmured into Clarke’s hair, rocking her slowly. Clarke only then realized that she was murmuring aloud all the gibberish flowing through her brain.

“Niylah?” Clarke didn’t understand why Niylah was there or when she had arrived, “what, how did you get here?”

“Hun, you called me, don’t you remember? You hung up real fast and didn’t answer when I called, so I came right over to make sure you were alright. What’s wrong, sugar? What’s got you in such a state?”

“Lexa’s gone,” Clarke whispered, still out of breath from her panic attack, “the Reapers took her and we don’t know how to get her back.” She buried her face in Niylah’s chest. “I can’t lose her, Niylah. I can’t. I’ve lost too many people already. I c-can’t do it again.” She broke down into unintelligible sobs as Niylah continued to hold her.

She felt Niylah lift her from the cold wood and carry her to her room. She felt the cool cotton sheets of her bed against her skin and Niylah started to pull away. She caught her by the sleeve, still not uncurling from her ball, and tugged until she gave up and tucked herself up against her back. Clarke needed the Omega’s calming touch right now. Her steady presence was the only thing keeping the monsters at bay. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep in Niylah’s arms. 

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Dreams of whirling infernos and delighted child’s laughter brought Clarke lurching into wakefulness. She could feel Niylah’s deep, steady breathing in the body pressed against her back and she tried to relax into it once more. But it seemed that sleep had dampened the reassuring effect of the Omega’s touch. Minutes passed and Clarke only felt more wound up by her nightmares and anxiety over Lexa. Shame prevented her from waking the woman in her bed, but she knew she’d fall back into a panic if she stayed where she was. She carefully extricated herself from Niylah’s embrace and padded down the hallway to the only place she could think might bring her solace. She silently opened the door to the room and sank onto the familiar silk of Lexa’s bed. She curled into a ball, clutching the Alphas pillow to her chest . Tears left burning tracks down cold cheeks and trembling lips. Please, gods, if there is anyone out there, please don’t take this woman away from me, away from this life. I can’t do it. I can’t lose another one.

Sandalwood and cinnamon permeated her senses as she inhaled heaving breaths and exhaled sobs. Clarke could have sworn she felt the familiar presence of Lexa, stroking a gentle hand down her hair. It was enough to center her, giving her something solid to focus on and pull herself out of the flashbacks. She clung to the pillow as a lifeline anchoring her to the present. Inhaling her love’s ( wait did I just think that ) scent, her mind drifted to sweeter memories. The intimidating warpaint and twisted throne emphasizing a fearsome picture of absolute confidence, an image shattered by the first babbling words spilling out of her mouth in a language Clarke hadn’t heard since she was a normal girl. An offered blade and a gentle hand leading her up the dais. Unflappable composure and compassionate eyes in the face of her venomous outburst. Blushing cheeks and stammered goodbyes when she began to strip off her filthy furs. Tender words of empathy exchanged for her story about her father. Elegant lethality in flowing movements across a green lawn. The warmth of fur and a heavy body curling around her as she wept out all the terror of her dreams. Thick eyelashes framing emerald eyes full of untamed power. Delicate lips capturing her own in a kiss of perfect sweetness. Passion inflaming those same lips as they blazed a path down the side of her neck. A steady heartbeat thumping in her ear as comforting hands stroked her back, her hair. It was in these memories that she found the peace that at last allowed her to fall into a deep slumber.

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Morning came but brought with it no headway. Lincoln remained an enraged Reaper, Lexa remained missing, and the rest of them remained just as stumped as the night before. They had the map showing how Lincoln had been taken into the mountain, but Anya wasn’t willing to risk her pack on such a risky endeavor. No one had any clue what dangers that path entailed and Anya couldn’t risk losing even a single wolf right now, not when their Commander was gone. Clarke blew up at her more than once, furious at the Second’s cautiousness in the face of a still unknown enemy. She ranted about the delay and lack of action to her friends, but even Raven and Octavia counseled her to follow Anya and not do anything rash. It seemed that they had learned their lesson about disobeying orders and they understood how necessary it was to not rush in and jeopardize everything on a fool’s errand. Clarke knew that they were right, but it didn’t make the waiting any less painful. She, more than anyone, knew what it was like to be a prisoner in the hands of a cruel enemy. Whenever she imagined what Lexa could be going through, nausea swept through her and her heart broke. Anya had instructed the pack to keep an eye on the firebrand and prevent her from leaving at all costs. Octavia and Bellamy had caught her trying to sneak off more than once and had to drag her back to the cabin. Clarke could’ve easily used her fire to break free, but she couldn’t bring herself to hurt anyone else she cared for. It seemed she was trapped for the time being, so she sucked it up and devoted her energy to helping prepare for the upcoming rescue.

Things settled into an uneasy routine. Anya had every able body training as much as possible to prepare for the upcoming battle once they had a lead on how to get to the Commander. Clarke often joined them to keep up on her skills and work off the frustration at her powerlessness to save the woman she (loved) cared for. She practiced fighting against them as both human and wolf, learning how they moved and their weak spots. She worked with her fire too, obliterating countless wooden dummies with huge blasts and focused streams. She honed her tumultuous emotions into white-hot flames that immolated every target she aimed them at. Raven spent hours in her workshop crafting blades capable of chopping off limbs and explosives that could disintegrate anything they touched. When Clarke wasn’t training, she was with the mechanic, using her flames to help Raven’s crafting and testing her devices. Clarke rarely slept during those days. She couldn’t keep away the nightmares that tormented her, so she gave up trying to sleep and threw herself into readying herself for the rescue of their fearless leader.

The first break came when Lincoln died. Luckily, Nyko was right there to restart his heart within seconds. His death, however impermanent, seemed to be the trigger for his full recovery from the Red. After a good thirty minutes of agonizingly slow shifting, he was back in human form and sleeping soundly. Octavia was overjoyed by his rehabilitation and refused to leave his side as he slept, curling up inside his unconscious arms on the narrow bed in the new room they laid him in. Anya was bursting with impatience, but Nyko insisted that Lincoln sleep off the residual effects of withdrawal and exhaustion. She backed down before the submissive wolf's stubborn persistence and left him to recover overnight. As soon as dawn lit the sky the next day, she was waiting outside his room ready for the interrogation.

For his part, the rehabilitated Reaper eagerly answered every question thrown his way. He had been aware of everything that had been happening when he was infected with the Red, but incapable of controlling his beast. He tried to overcome his guilt at the things his monster had done by diving into every possible well of information he had collected. He drew a detailed map of the tunnel systems the vampires had running under Mount Weather and surrounding areas. He explained that the Reapers were controlled using a high-pitched tone emitter that they had been trained to associate with pain. He confirmed that vampires were the ones in charge and the leader called himself Dante Wallace, though he was vulnerable due to his insatiable appetite for werewolf blood. The real threat was his son Cage, the devious mind behind the invention of Red and werewolf sedative. He couldn’t provide an accurate count of their enemies, but he had learned enough to give them a list of the vital targets. Most importantly, he was able to give them a basic layout of the mountain’s entrance and layout, as he had been used as Dante’s personal bloodbag for the first hours of his captivity and had been dragged throughout the interior of the base.

His invaluable information was enough for Anya to formulate an attack strategy. It was long past time for these bloodsuckers to be exterminated. She called together her inner circle of advisors and strategic minds and, with their help, mapped out a battle plan to take down the Mount Weather vampire seethe. Days went into perfecting the plan and examining it from every angle, trying to cover all possible scenarios. Clarke was frustrated to the extreme by the protracted planning sessions and lack of real progress, but she knew her best chance was to trust Anya. She knew Lexa was surely being tortured and turned into one of Cage’s Reapers at this very moment. She desperately wanted to just charge in and destroy the entire mountain, but she knew that was reckless and would likely just get her killed along with the Commander.

Clarke was sitting in on one such meeting when Anya collapsed to her knees, clutching her head, and released a moan of pain. She leapt to her feet and rushed to the Second’s side, concerned by the pain radiating from her. The rest of the wolves also reacted in pain, though not nearly as strongly as Anya had. They howled with loss and sorrow, the sound filling the office and echoing from the town. 

“What? What’s going on?” Clarke questioned frantically, afraid of whatever could be affecting the whole pack.

“It’s Lexa,” Anya managed to moan out, “sh-she’s cut herself off from the pack. I-I can’t feel her in the pack bonds anymore. She’s given me her connections to every pack on the continent. Something happened to force her to abandon her place as Commander.”

“No! She’s not dead, is she?” Clarke’s heart pounded in fear at Anya’s revelation. No, we didn’t come this far just to lose Lexa right before we could save her .

“Not dead, just unreachable. I can’t sense anything from her anymore. Fuck! We’re out of time. We need to put this into motion before we’re too late.”

“Anya,” Gustus’ throaty voice carried the aftershocks of pain, “we need to accept the fact that we might already be too late.”

Anya whirled on him and snarled, the full force of her dominance blazing in her glowing gold wolf eyes. Every wolf in the room cringed and bared their throats in the wave of the new Commander’s power. Only Raven and Clarke remained straight-backed in the onslaught. Clarke refused to bend to anyone other than the woman who held her heart. It was she who got up in Gustus’ face and railed at him.

“You do NOT get to do that!” Rage rippled from her throat, enough to rival even Anya’s and her eyes burned with an unearthly blue fire. “You do not get to give up on her. She is MINE and we will get her back. There is no other alternative.” Gustus’ nearly invisible flinch told Clarke that her words had hit home. “Gather the wolves. We have a war to wage and no time to waste.” With that she strode out of the room, awed gazes fixed on her exit.

Chapter Text

A sea of fur spread out in the still darkness of early morning, the mountain glade full of battle-ready wolves. Anya stood within view of the heavy metal door marking the entrance to the Mount Weather silver mines. 

“Wolves of Aspen Creek, today’s the day we get our people back, the day we get our Commander back. The enemy thinks it’s safe behind its doors, but it’s not. When it realizes that, it will fight back. Hard. We need to be ready. The mountain has cast a shadow over these woods for too long. They’ve hunted us, controlled us, turned us into monsters. That ends today. The mountain will fall. Jus drein jus daun !” Anya’s voice rang out in the pre-dawn stillness and she released an earsplitting howl that all the wolves took up, shaking the leaves from the trees.

Anya surveyed the howling pack with golden eyes. She knew the hazards of bringing her wolves underground into a silver mine, even if it was supposedly depleted, but she judged it a necessary risk if it would bring the end to this scourge on her people. Her transition from Second to Commander had been relatively smooth. Everyone in the Aspen Creek knew her and feared her, with very few exceptions. One of those exceptions was standing beside her with a metal contraption in hand.

“You sure that thing’ll be able to blow through the door?” Anya quietly asked the woman at her side.

“Oh yeah, this could blow the skin off a rhino, no sweat,” Raven replied, eagerness for the incipient explosion bleeding into her tone.

“I’m going to interpret that as a yes then.” Anya responded dryly, covering her nerves with sarcasm.

A massive silver wolf with ashy markings on his snout nosed forward into Anya’s line of sight. Lincoln had recovered rapidly and looked back up to fighting weight. His time as a Reaper hadn’t left any physical marks, but there was a new darkness in his eyes where there had only been quiet optimism before. Octavia’s red and white body pressed against his side, determined not to lose her mate to the mountain this time. Gustus’ hulking black form stood at Raven’s other side, protecting the half-fae that was so vital to their plan. As an abandoned mine, they knew that this steel door sealing off the entrance must be manually operated. There was no way the vampires would’ve had time to install any major electricity systems to secure the mine. All they had to work with was roughly mined tunnels and a basic ventilation system installed back in the 1940s. Blowing the door should be easy enough with Raven’s expertise, leaving the entrance wide open for their assault. 

Unseen in the thick trees, the rest of the pack circled the mountain’s entrance, waiting for Anya’s signal to charge. Clarke waited with this second wave of wolves. Anya wanted to keep her as a secret weapon in case their initial assault failed and they needed her walls of fire to keep the vamps off. She had enviable control over her fire, but the fighting would be far too chaotic to risk injuring the wolves along with the vampires. The blonde begrudgingly agreed with the Alpha’s tactics, though she wanted to be first through the door, racing to find her Lexa, her Sister Wolf. Sometime between Lexa’s capture and now, Clarke had given in to her heart’s insistence that the Alpha was hers. Both Lexa and Sister Wolf could be insufferable tyrants, micromanaging control freaks, and waaaaay too possessive. Despite all this, she had treated Clarke as a capable adult, allowing her the freedom to find her own place in the town, even if she threw a hissy fit at some things, she had always given Clarke whatever she needed to feel safe. The Alpha was far from perfect, but she was the only person the firebrand had come across who saw her, everything about her, and didn’t judge her for the things she’d done. Even with Raven and Octavia, she hadn’t told them anything about her life before Aspen Creek because she knew it would change the way they thought of her. These days without Lexa had shown her just how much she enjoyed having the Alpha around and how empty she felt in her absence. She might be new to the whole relationship thing, but she recognized that what she felt for Lexa was real and far deeper than she’d ever expected to be able to experience. She accepted the fact that she loved the Commander and would do anything to see her again, even at the cost of her own life.

The army waited in restless quiet for dawn to break over the mountain. Daylight would render all but the oldest of vampires, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. They would only reanimate once the sun disappeared beyond the horizon at nightfall. The parasites would be defenseless during the day, only capable of token resistance at best. Fog filtered up through the dewy grass as dawn approached. It spilled out from crevices hidden under greenery and craggy rocks. Soon, the entire wood was thick with it, swirling around paws and cloaking the fall grass. Clarke licked her lips and grimaced at the heavy, mineral taste of it coating her tongue. It was the smallest of the wolves that were affected first, those closest to the ground and the innocuous-seeming mist blanketing it. Hacking coughs broke the silence, wet and thick. Strings of bloody drool dripped from maws open wide to suck in arduous breaths. It spread like a virus throughout the pack. Soon every werewolf, wolf and human alike, was coughing out splatters of blood and heaving for air. Suddenly, it clicked in Clarke’s head, the metallic taste of the mist and the violent reactions of the wolves that breathed it in.

“It’s the fog!” Clarke shouted above the sound of suffocating werewolves. “Silver is in the fog!”

“RETREAT!” Anya commanded through uncontrollable bloody coughs.

“NO! We can’t leave!!!” Clarke cried out, knowing that the wolves were suffering, but incapable of rationalizing abandoning Lexa when they were so close.

The army stumbled and scrabbled down the mountain to escape the deadly fog as a single figure fought against the tide towards the mine door. Anya shepherded her wolves out of the deadly glade, staying behind until every last person was out and on their way back to the town before evacuating herself. Clarke only made it a few yards before sharp teeth snagged the back of her jacket and yanked her backwards off her feet. Bellamy had seen her trying to get to the entrance and caught her, towing her away in the retreat. She fought against him with everything she had, desperate to save Lexa, but nothing she did could free her from his grip. She tried to strip off her jacket, but Miller’s gold and chocolate brindle wolf grabbed one of her pant legs and helped Bellamy carry her down the mountain with Bryan’s gunmetal grey head pushing her from behind. She retained enough control to hold in her fire, she couldn’t bring herself to truly hurt them even if they were keeping her from the woman she loved. That didn’t stop her from battling them the entire trek though. She had exhausted herself before reaching town and let herself be dragged along as she tried not to fall into despair at their failure.

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The pack gathered at the cabin, many of them still vomiting blood and sweating out the silver from their lungs through their skin. Nyko assisted those in the worst shape as best he could and Indra administered herbal remedies to soothe throats and accelerate healing. Niylah moved through the pack, soothing the troubled wolves with touch and quiet words. Even she struggled though, Clarke could see the discouragement she tried to hide behind her Omega sense of calm. It felt like everyone had given up. Their plan had failed and they saw no way forward. Clarke had enough of it. She stomped upstairs to Lexa’s office and confronted Anya.

“What, Clarke?!” Anya uttered huskily, the damage to her throat making her sound like a ten-pack-a-day smoker.

“Do you not even care about her?!” Clarke thundered, fiery anger lighting her eyes, “you’re just going to abandon her and every other werewolf in that mountain?!”

“ENOUGH,” Anya roared, eyes flashing gold, “you do not get to question me! You know nothing about how much that retreat cost me!” She closed her eyes and inhaled a rapid breath, holding it in her lungs before blowing it out slowly. “I do care, Clarke. But I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my pack comes first. I could not risk losing them all to silver poisoning before even breaching the doors. We are not giving up. We just need to make another plan to get to Lexa.”

“And what then? We sit and plan day after day as Lexa goes through HELL? YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT”S LIKE! You have no idea what it’s like to be stuck helpless and hurting as you wait for ages to be rescued, but NO ONE COMES ! WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE HER THERE!!!” Clarke exploded, frustration and fear boiling over to sweep through the room with heat. “Don’t you get it?! I can’t leave her. I can’t let her die when I...when she is the only thing keeping this coalition of werewolves together.”

“I understand perfectly! YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS SUFFERED?! You have known Lexa for days , I HAVE KNOWN HER FOR OVER THREE HUNDRED YEARS! She is the ONLY family I have left!! I am NOT abandoning her!!! She is strong enough to last until we can reach her! Do you really have so little faith in her?” Anya’s eyes blazed with gold again before she visibly tamped down her rage and adopted a more reasonable tone. “Look, it’s going to take time to figure out another way in. The tunnels are stuffed to the brim with Reapers that would shred us to pieces before we got within a mile of the door. And the tone generators are a no go because we are just as sensitive to them as the Reapers are and we can’t afford to be deafened like that. Lincoln only knows of those two entrances. I’m going to send patrols out with Indra’s magic to help them blend into the forests. Maybe then we can find a weak point to access the mountain. Just wait. We will get her back. Now leave, I can’t focus with you standing there glaring at me like that.” Anya waved Clarke off and turned her back to the blonde, dismissing her.

Clarke was still engulfed in anger and betrayal and fear for Lexa. She stalked downstairs and slammed out the back door onto the deck, breathing in the crisp morning air. She shrieked in fury and flung fireball after fireball at the trees. They burst into flames and smoke and the roaring of fire filled the air. She snuffed out the flames with a thought and attempted to rein in her scattered mind. If Anya won’t help me, I’ll just do it myself. I’ve decimated Ice Queens and Fae abominations, how hard can vampires be?

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She found Raven in her workshop, madly trying to build something that would nullify the silver in the fog. She was having no success and the strain of it all showed in the bags under her eyes and lines creasing her forehead. The mechanic jumped when Clarke came up behind her, she was so focused on her project. Octavia was there too with Lincoln curled up together on one of the dilapidated couches.

“Raven, I need your help,” Clarke stated, determination turning her voice to steel.

“Kinda busy here, if you couldn’t tell. I get that I’m a genius and all but I still only have two hands.”

“This is more important,” Clarke’s words caught the mechanic’s attention, “I need you to build one of the tone generators Lincoln told us about.” Lincoln’s ears perked up at this and he sat up, displacing Octavia.

“Why do you need one of those?” Lincoln questioned, “We can’t bring an army through the tunnels. There’s too many Reapers and we can’t fight them in such a confined space.”

“I’m not bringing an army, I’m going alone.” Clarke lifted her chin and set her eyes stubbornly, waiting for their incredulous responses. 

“What? You can’t!” Octavia shouted, “Going in there alone is a suicide mission!”

“I can’t take any of you wolves with me! The risk of you dying of silver poisoning is too great and I refuse to give them more fodder for Reapers. You’ve already been taken by them once, Lincoln, I won’t let that happen to you again.”

“Nu-uh, you can’t just charge off on your own like that. We won’t let you.”

“Just try and stop me,” Clarke whooshed into flame, yellow flickered over her skin and heat scalding those around her. 

Octavia looked about to tackle her when Clarke was hit with a freezing white cloud. She whipped around to find Raven still pointing the black nozzle of a fire extinguisher at her.

“Fire equals big no-no in here. I got shitloads of stuff that goes BOOM! You can’t just light up in here without proper precautions. As for the tone generator, of course I’ll make one for you. In fact, I already have one made. I brought it along with me for this morning’s battle just in case.” She produced a slim metal cylinder from one of her various pockets and offered it to Clarke.

Clarke examined it and pressed a button on the side. A piercing wail rang out and blue light flared out from the top of the cylinder. Everyone shouted and covered their ears, so Clarke released the button with a shrug of apology.

“Lincoln, I need a copy of your tunnel map and base layout. Anya has the originals you made in the office and the gods know she won’t let me back in there for a while.”

“Fine. But if I do this for you, you have to promise to take O and me with you.”

“No, I can’t,” Clarke was cut off by a scathing look from the normally good-humored werewolf, “only until the tunnels. I go alone from there. I’ll just end up hurting anyone else who tries to come with me.”

Seeing the intractable expression on the blonde’s face, Lincoln sighed and went to go find paper and writing materials. Over the next few hours, Clarke absorbed everything Lincoln could tell her about the tunnels and base inside Mount Weather. She studied the maps he drew, memorizing them in case she lost them or they became unusable.

Octavia prowled the garage, anxious as her new friend plotted what was surely a suicide mission. She didn’t try to stop Clarke though. She understood what it was like to have your mate kidnapped. She would have done anything to rescue Lincoln and Clarke had been right there next to her for all of it. She couldn’t tell if Clarke realized it yet, but she saw the signs between Lexa and the firebug. Only the jealousy of another wolf touching her mate would be enough to set Lexa off like she had when O told her about Niylah. She could smell them on each other too, faint but definitely there. She felt along her mate bond, perceiving Lincoln’s worry for Clarke and the pain of reliving his days as a Reaper. She came up behind where he leaned over a map and wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt him instantly relax into her hold and place a hand on hers where they rested against his abs. They had been in a relationship for a few years before moving in together just before Clarke showed up. Their mating bond hadn’t cemented in place until right after he had recovered from the Red. They had spent that night together in a much less restful way than Nyko had suggested, but it was worth it. The new bond linked them human-to-human, wolf-to-wolf, and soul-to-soul. She had never heard of a mating like Lexa and Clarke’s, but since when did Lexa ever do things the normal way? She could tell that it hadn’t been made official between them, but you’d have to be deaf and blind not to see what they shared.

------------------------------------------

The tunnel entrance was a yawning abyss compared to the late afternoon sunlight shining through the trees. Clarke shuffled her feet nervously before steeling herself against her anxiety. Lincoln and Octavia hovered behind her, Lincoln clinging to Octavia’s hand as he faced his personal hell. Clarke pulled the tone generator from her pocket, holding it loosely in her hand, ready to turn it on at the slightest movement. She turned to her friends and gave them each a brief hug, too on edge to stand physical contact for long. She conjured a ball of yellow fire and walked into the Reapers’ haunt.

She proceeded cautiously, her need for haste dampened by the oppressive darkness in the tunnel. Chills ran down her spine as the dangling roots and dirt walls eerily recalled images of similar walls from her past. Shadows danced across the walls from her improvised light and cast disturbing shapes on the floor in front of her. Every sound had her twitching. She wasn’t going to reveal herself with the tone generator until absolutely necessary, but she had to fight to keep herself from accidentally pressing the button in her jumpiness. She could’ve easily killed anything that came at her, but these Reapers used to be Lexa’s people. If at all possible, she would avoid roasting them and hope they could be captured and rehabilitated like Lincoln. She’d surely faced worse dangers before, but her days of safety in Aspen Creek had softened her nerves slightly.

She took a few seconds to slip into her alternate persona: Wanheda, Bringer of Death . Her mind cleared and anxiety receded. She was fire, she was destruction, she was death. Wanheda slid forward on soundless feet, smooth as a panther through the woods. She was the apex predator here, nothing could pose a true threat in this place. A growl down a side tunnel had her snuffing out her torch and dropping into a combat-ready crouch. Loud shuffling and low snarling echoed down the tunnel, moving away from her direction. She reignited her light and resumed her steady journey to the door keeping her from her target. She estimated she was a hundred yards away from her goal when all hell broke loose.

One damn rock was all it took. The wavering light of Clarke’s flame hid a loose stone in her path and her previously silent feet had sent it spinning into the wall with a clatter. Shit, Clarke let loose silent strings of profanity as she abandoned her steady stride and sprinted around the corner to the door. RIght into a pack of Reapers. SHIT . Clarke ignited her hand and readied herself for a fight. A Reaper turned at the noise and roared as it charged forward. Clarke stretched out a flaming hand and released a torrent of fire straight into its ugly face. The stream of fire glowed yellow and orange as the Reaper’s patchy fur caught fire and it yelped in pain. With her non-lit hand, she activated the tone generator. A shrieking wail burst out and all of the Reapers shrank back, pawing at their ears and scrambling to get away from Clarke. That’s right, bitches, run home to mommy . She resumed her sprint to the door and skid to a halt in front of the iron surface. She yanked on the handle, but it was locked. Of course it’s fucking locked! Why would they make it easy for me? She examined the door before focusing the flames in her hand in her index finger and starting to carve into the metal around the lock.

It took an hour and four more Reaper attacks to melt through the thick steel and disengage the lock. She kicked the door in and entered the dank mountain base. The walls were rough-hewn stone that had been smoothed with age. Stairs led upwards and a small tunnel branched off to the right. She took off down the small hallway, searching for any kind of air duct or crawlspace she could use to explore without revealing herself; she couldn’t let them have the chance to kill Lexa before she could free her. She eventually found a grate leading to the mining ventilation shafts and pulled it aside so she could crawl in. She replaced the vent as best she could and ventured up the steep slope of the duct.

It took her a few hours to get the basic layout of the place. She had followed Lincoln’s map, but was forced to redirect quite a few times through other parts of the mine as the ventilation shafts meandered in different directions. She found the main feeding chamber, set up like a huge luxury suite equipped with lush fainting couches and decadent Persian rugs covering the hard floor. She saw a few vampires there, feeding on hapless victims. She thought Dante had been there as well, from what she remembered of Lincoln’s brief description. She discovered the living quarters and armories, as well as vast storage spaces that were mostly empty; vampires didn’t need much in the way of supplies.

Finally she came across a room full of tv monitors and fancy looking computer consoles. It was empty for the moment, so Clarke worked off the grate and dropped down. She moved to the wall of screens showing different vantage points in the mountain and spotted her target, relief flooding her as she saw her love was still alive. A red wolf (though there was so much blood matting its coat it was hard to tell if the red was natural) with black face markings thrashed wildly on an elevated stone slab as two vampires stabbed at it with metal-tipped spears. She hissed angrily through clenched teeth and searched for a way to free the tormented wolf. Someone had helpfully labeled all of the switches and dials on the panel, incompetant assfucks , and she thumbed the on labelled ‘release’. Instead of the chains on the screen coming free, another screen showed the doors of several Reaper cages creaking open. Oops, well I guess that works as a distraction . She saw frantic vamps scrambling to contain the escaped Reapers without losing their limbs. Here it is! She flicked another promising lever and was met with the view of the chained wolf leaping to her feet and roaring out a battlecry before leaping into the fray as a whirlwind of violence.

A door scraped behind her and she whirled around to see a tall man in a linen well-tailored suit and slicked back hair enter with a lumbering brute of a vampire following closely behind. She prepared to hurl a ball of fire at him but was snared as she met his swirling, ruby eyes. Her hands dropped to her side, fire going out as the vampire smiled. He was mesmerizing. She couldn’t look away from those gem-bright eyes beckoning her closer. 

“Ha! So this is the one causing so much trouble,” Cage’s nasally voice grated against Clarke’s ears before transforming into a syrupy velvet, “ you are mine now .” Something was wrong about that, but the thought fled before Clarke could cling to it.

“Yours,” She rasped, drifting forward, close enough for the slick vampire to grab her and pull her against him.

“Mmmmm, you smell delicious, you know,” Cage caressed her exposed neck, delicate fangs poking out over his lip as he grinned widely in hunger and delight, “maybe I’ll just take a taste before getting rid of you.”

Clarke felt hot breath on her neck ( wrong, wrong, not Lexa, not right ) and razor-sharp teeth sliding into her jugular. Sick pain flooded her before being washed away by euphoria. She could feel the blood leave her as he sucked, and more curiously, she could feel her fire following. The pleasure surging through her couldn’t completely distract her from the bizarre feeling. Focusing on the odd sensation, she realized that somehow her magic was still connected to the blood now flowing into the vampire’s veins. Her fire was twined with the essence of her being and apparently that included the blood ebbing from her neck. There was something important she was supposed to be doing, but her mind was clouded with bliss. If she could have, she would’ve tried to shake the fog from her head, but she was no longer in control of her limbs. So she did the next best thing. She set her magic ablaze. 

Cage stumbled away from her, shoving her to the ground as he glowed strangely from the inside, light illuminating veins crawling through his pale white skin. The skin over those veins blistered and swelled grotesquely. Then flames spewed out, licking up the tailored suit and greased hair as Cage screamed in agony and tried to beat out the flames erupting from his body. Cage’s lackey stood in dumb horror as his boss was cremated before his eyes. The fire burned through the fog in her mind, leaving her once more in control of her body. Flames ignited from her skin and engulfed the other vampire in the room. Once nothing remained of the bloodsuckers but ash, Clarke set off to find her love.

She roamed through the dim mine, setting fire to every vampire she came across. Most screamed and tried to flee from her flames, but were ash before they could run more than ten feet. Those who were obviously human she left alive--she couldn’t stand the thought of more innocent blood on her hands--but anyone showing a hint of vamp was consumed in her blazing inferno. She was careful to keep the conflagration limited to bodies only, it wouldn’t do to burn the place down around her ears before she could find Lexa. She followed the sounds of screams and feral howls through the winding mountain tunnels.

From around a corner in the hall ahead of her, Clarke saw a bristling lightning bolt of fur strike an eight-foot tall Reaper and rip out its throat before it could even blink. Hope swelled in her chest as the wolf leapt from foe to foe, hardly touching the ground before her fangs were buried in the next throat. Bodies littered the blood-drenched hall, all completely decapitated and most also missing several other body parts. Her love was a magnificent weapon of pure rage and unfettered ferocity. When the last body hit the floor with a thump, the wolf whirled to face Clarke.

“Lexa!” Clarke called out in joy, starting forward to embrace her, but paused as a sense of wrongness hit her. The wolf prowled towards her, all menace and baleful eyes. Black baleful eyes. The emerald gaze she saw in her dreams had been swallowed by a midnight void that sucked the joy from her soul. No, this can’t be, this can’t be my Lexa . She stumbled back a step in fear and the wolf charged. She spun around and ran back towards the safety of the control room. But she was too slow. She couldn’t bring herself to defend herself with fire as heavy paws collided with her back, smashing her face-first into the ground. She managed to flip onto her back and was met with the inky gaze of the berserker. As glistening fangs clamped around her neck, she could only whisper.

“I love you, Lexa.”

Chapter Text

Suddenly she was free. She exploded to her feet and leapt at the first moving target in front of her, not waiting for her joints to lock back into their correct places. The sickly sharp sweetness marked her prey as vampire, so she latched her fangs into its neck and wrenched its spine from its body. Instinctively she knew that this type of prey only truly died once decapitated or turned to ash by fire. Fire wasn’t readily available, but she preferred the visceral pleasure of fangs and claws anyway. Movement caught her attention and she pounced again, this target much larger than the last. She ripped out its throat and propelled herself through an open door using the huge form as a springboard. Blood doused her fur as she swung out razor claws, slicing through muscle and bone as easily as a butcher’s cleaver. The smaller prey were unnaturally strong, but their fear saturated the air and crippled their ability to fight back. The larger, hairy beasts put up a good fight, no fear tainted their scent and their rage almost matched the mad wolf. Not good enough though. They couldn’t even touch the raging berserker as she flashed between them, tearing out throats, slicing through hamstrings, severing hands in a single snap of her teeth.

She was death incarnate. Nothing could stand against the unadulterated malevolence contained within the red wolf’s form. She slaughtered them all indiscriminately. Anything that stood in her way was destroyed with quick efficiency. She perceived nothing except moving targets and the scents of fear and viscera. Hunger for the kill drove her to roam through this prison. Only one thought existed in her mind: the complete and utter destruction of every living being. She entered a lavish room suffused with the smell of blood and sex. She zeroed in on an elderly figure she vaguely remembered from the time before. He had been important somehow, but all that mattered now was the rich smell of his terror. A earth shattering snarl tore from her jaws as she leapt on the cowering figure. Weak arms tried to push her off, but they were nothing against her power. She took her time with this one. She started with the hands and feet, shredding them with her claws and then bit off each limb at the joint, soaking in the exquisite sound of his screams. She eviscerated him in a single swipe and yanking his organs from his body. Wet gurgles spilled from his mangled throat as she had torn out his lungs. She licked the cold blood from her chops and her black gaze bore into his watery eyes before she leaned down and crunched his spine between her jaws. Tossing away the now lifeless head, she hunted for her main quarry. He must have had a name, but names were meaningless to the beast. Just outside the room of sex and blood, she caught his scent and pursued it through the dank tunnels, ravaging any living--or unliving--being she passed.

His scent had grown more and more recent with every stride. It flooded her senses as she careened around a corner, pouncing on a pack of Reapers and reducing them to a pile of quivering meat within moments. As she came to a rest, she spied a diminutive girl standing in the middle of the hall, blocking the path to her quarry. This one didn’t smell like vampire or Reaper. It smelled of human and fire and, most importantly, the sharp odor of her current target. He had touched this one, maybe fed off her. But that made little difference to her. She prowled forward hungrily, reveling in the rising dread wafting from this girl. The human seemed a much more appetizing morsel than the rancid beasts and undead parasites. Red-stained saliva dribbled from her jaws as she inhaled the delicious aroma of the being standing before her. Her relentless focus kept being derailed by forces bucking within her mind, trying to breach the surface of her bloodthirst. There was something inexplicably familiar about this girl who smelled of smoke and sweetness. Who smelled of home . The berserker snorted, she had no home. She had nothing but the intoxicating joy of carnage. She locked gazes with the human and glimpsed some emotion she couldn’t understand rise and fall in its eyes.

The spell was broken when the girl stumbled back, then spun around and sprinted away. Aroused by the chase, the berserker hunted down the weak human with ease. She sprang into the air in a graceful bound and growled in satisfaction as her paws met her prey’s back and brought it to the ground. She let the girl writhe below her, twisting to meet her gaze. The fear in her prey’s eyes as they stared in horror at their demise was her favorite part. Ocean blue eyes, filled with anger, filled with confusion, filled with desire . No, this was nothing but her next meal. She lunged for the girl’s neck and seized it between her teeth.

“I love you, Lexa.”

N O O O O !!! Twin voices roared to life within her head, freezing her in place before she could clamp her jaws through the tender flesh. Her fangs rested on her throat, gently dimpling the skin, not even hard to bruise. LITTLE FLAME, CLARKE, OURS. The berserker receded back into the dark of their soul as green flooded into her eyes and the madness abated.

Lexa leapt off of Clarke, terrified she had hurt her love. Assured that Clarke was unhurt-relatively speaking-- she shoved her bloodsoaked head against her mate’s stomach and filled her lungs with her sweet smell of bourbon and burnt molasses. She whined in remorse and anxiety at hurting their beautiful wildfire, their little flame, their Clarke. She pawed gently at the girl’s still form and whined again. Clarke stirred and slowly sat up, hesitantly gazing into her eyes. Lexa could discern the relief suffusing Clarke’s expression at seeing the emerald green of her irises. Irritated at her inability to speak and hold her mate within her arms, Lexa triggered the shift to human. It was slow and painful and left Lexa panting heavily on the floor naked, not even having the strength to summon clothes, but it was worth it to speak her love’s name.

“Clarke,” Lexa uttered hoarsely, throat unused to human speech, “you came.”

“Of course I came!” Clarke sobbed out, tears streaming through the ash coating her cheeks, “Lexa, I was so afraid I lost you and then I came to rescue you and then I finally found you again but you weren’t you--”

Lexa cut off Clarke’s blubbering with a passionate kiss, at least as passionate as she could get while this exhausted. Clarke returned the kiss with fervor, clutching at her bruised and battered body. Lexa drew her into her arms and held her tightly, anchoring herself in the feel of her skin and hair and hands and lips. She couldn’t help the hiss of pain as Clarke brushed one of the deeper wounds on her ribs and the blonde broke off the kiss, examining Lexa’s filthy body as if only now realizing some of the blood was Lexa’s own. She fussed over the Alpha’s wounds, not that she had anything to treat them with, and Lexa stopped her, laughing raspily and pulling her hands around her neck.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lexa said, gazing lovingly into cerulean eyes.

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They felt duty-bound to scour the mountain complex first, making sure no real threats remained. All they found were corpses and the tracks of several escaped Reapers. Finn’s scent was noticeable in some places around the mountain, but none were more recent than a few days ago. That coward seemed to have cleared out before the pack could take their revenge against him. Lexa collapsed on the last lap of the mine and Clarke had to carry her out. Luckily, the mining elevators still worked and she only had to carry the heavier Alpha down a few passages before they found the exit. They tumbled out of the unlocked steel door onto cool grass under wide-open skies. Tears leaked down Lexa’s cheeks at the fragrances of her Montana wilderness and the brilliant stars in the night sky. 

Clarke’s phone rang then, making them jump in surprise before Clarke remembered what the sound was. She answered it and the enraged voice of her Second reverberated tinnily to Lexa’s ears. She motioned for Clarke to hand her the phone and put it on speaker.

“Now sister, that’s no way to speak to your Commander’s liberator.” Lexa was met with mute silence before the speaker erupted into joyful cussing. “Language, Anya. I’m too tired to deal with your foul tongue at the moment.”

Anya peppered them with questions, Lexa answering the most important ones and waving the less important off for later. Anya tracked their location on the map and sent a couple of wolves out on four-wheelers to bring them home. Lexa and Clarke sagged back on the soft grass and held each other as they waited for their pack to bring them home.

“You saved me, Clarke,” Lexa’s admiring voice broke the comfortable quiet.

“Obviously,” Clarke seemed confused at Lexa’s statement.

“No, I don’t mean physically, though you did do that,” She touched Clarke’s chin with a soft hand, lifting it so she could stare into her eyes, “you saved my mind, our souls. We were lost. The silver burning through our veins and the agony of what Cage had done broke us. We were buried under some kind of oozing blackness. Something evil I didn’t know existed inside our heart.” Clarke reached up and stroked Lexa’s cheek as she continued. “There was nothing left of us under that suffocating darkness, or so I thought. But you appeared like a guardian angel and we found the strength to keep fighting. And then that thing hunted you down like a rabbit and we were helpless to do anything but watch. We raged against the dark, but it wasn’t until your admission that we were able to break through and return to you.”

“Oh,” Clarke tucked her chin slightly, abashed, “you heard that?”

“Yes, my love,” Lexa chuckled tenderly at her little flame’s embarrassment, “we heard it. And it saved us from ourselves. Thank you, little flame .” Sister Wolf slipped through in those last two words, needing to show her own gratitude. “And just so you know, I love you too, my Clarke.”

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The ride back to town was miserable, but Lexa was too grateful that she didn’t have to make the trek herself to complain. She had been extremely reluctant to let go of Clarke for the return journey, but driving was beyond her at the moment and Clarke had no clue how to operate a four-wheeler. So she pulled her big-girl panties up and sat herself behind the wide frame of Ryder. She could feel him humming happily throughout the drive, finally at peace now that his Alpha was safe and coming home. The pack had technically accepted Anya as Alpha, but they loved Lexa and didn’t feel right without her. Lexa left the pack bonds closed off for now, she needed to rest and Anya was more than capable of acting as Alpha for the next couple of days. She needed to make sure that thing that had surfaced in the mountain was buried and locked deep within her before she could let herself resume her role as Commander.

Eventually they made it to the cabin and were greeted by what seemed to be the entire town in her house. Luckily, Ryder had brought her a change of clothes so she didn’t have to appear before the population of Aspen Creek in nothing but her birthday suit. Sister Wolf would not allow her to appear weak in front of so many other predators, so she walked in head held high and back as straight as ever. She endured the hugs and cheers and celebration for a whole hour before slipping off upstairs to her bed.

 Clarke intercepted her before she could collapse on the mattress though. She had followed the Alpha upstairs and took her by the hand when Lexa made for the bed. The battered Alpha let Clarke draw her into the bathroom, bemused at her little flame’s intentions. Clarke stepped over to the jacuzzi tub and started the water flowing, waiting until it was hot before letting it fill. She stepped back over to the werewolf and looked up at her shyly. Lexa waited until the blonde awkwardly tugged at her shirt before nodding in assent and letting her carefully undress her. Clarke’s hands were hesitant, avoiding the still bleeding wounds and deep red bruises littering her skin, but warm and wonderful. Clarke again took Lexa by the hands and led her to the bathtub, helping her climb in and settle herself, before removing her own clothes and climbing in behind Lexa. Shivers ran down her spine as Clarke settled against her back, feeling bare skin brush against bare skin. Clarke worked a bar of soap between her hands and slowly began scrubbing the grime from the Alpha’s body. Lexa luxuriated in the heavenly feeling of Clarke’s hands rubbing the dirt from her skin. She leaned forward with a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her forehead atop them. Sister Wolf purred in pleasure at the rightness of being here with her little flame. She didn’t even mind exposing their injuries, which would normally have her hackles up. They were safe in the hands of the woman they loved. She relaxed into the soothing pressure, drowsing in the heat. She didn’t resist when Clarke pulled her back to lay on the blonde’s chest so she could reach her front.

Vibrations in the blonde’s chest and the soft rasp of a voice close to her ear made her aware of Clarke’s quiet humming. She smiled and closed her eyes.

“Mmm, sing to me?” Lexa asked sleepily.

She felt Clarke chuckle before adding lyrics to the tune:

“ I dreamt a dream this night

of silk and honest post

Wore a robe so light and smooth

in the light of the sunset

now the clear morning is waking

I went to the young crowd,

I was drawn to song and dance

filled with confidence, I met her eyes

and put my hand in hers

All the others watched us,

they smiled and they laughed

Soon the dance completely stopped,

only us two were left (dancing)

I dreamt a dream this night

of silk and honest post

Wore a robe so light and smooth

in the light of the sunset

now the clear morning is waking”

Lexa dozed, captivated by Clarke’s sweet voice and wonderful touch. Too soon, her firebug was prodding her to sit up so she could get out. Lexa thought about childishly refusing, but decided that resisting sounded like too much effort, so she let Clarke lift her from the warm bath (perks of having a firebender who can continuously heat the water so it never gets cold) and wrap her in a towel before guiding her to the bed. Clarke again sat behind Lexa and pulled her into her lap. Lexa lay on her side, wrapped in Clarke’s legs as the blonde meticulously braided her hair in intricate Viking braids. The repetitive motions of fingers in her hair sent her straight to a gloriously sound sleep.

She woke sometime later to darkness and warmth pressed tightly to her back. They must have lost their towels in their sleep because nothing separated Lexa from her little flame’s velvety skin. Rolling over, she snuggled up under Clarke’s chin, elated when the blonde’s arms instinctively tightened around her. She buried her nose in her love’s neck and drank in her intoxicating scent. Happiness washed over her and Sister Wolf as they again realized that they were safe and home in their mate’s arms. We really do need to have that whole mate discussion with her soon if we are going to continue this . Shhhhh, Sister Wolf gave up on words and sent her the feelings of lazing in front of a fire and sleeping peacefully curled up with a soft blanket. Okay, I get it, enjoy what we have while we have it. Sister Wolf whuffed in agreement and prompted Lexa to cuddle even closer, so she did. Clarke’s steady breathing lulled her back to sleep.

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Lexa woke again to soft fingers tracing lines along her back. She hummed contentedly and the fingers paused as Clarke realized she was awake.

“These look painful,” Clarke said quietly and Lexa realized she had been tracing the lines Cage had marked on her skin.

“I’ve had worse, I’m sure,” Lexa sleepily replied.

“How did this one happen?” She left Clarke’s touch slide down a long gash on a rib.

“I think that one was from a whip, Cage was fond of those in the beginning.”

“And this one?” This time fingers traced a jagged scab stretching from her left hip four inches up and towards her spine.

“Hm, spear maybe? That one feels more recent.”

“What about this?” Clarke smoothed her hand along a deep laceration traversing the length of her spine.

“That...that was right after my mind broke, I don’t remember it,” she lied, knowing full well it was where Cage’s knife had dragged down in his attempt to skin the pelt from her body. She rolled over to face Clarke. “Can we talk about something else?”

A smirk spread across Clarke’s lips as she replied, “We don’t have to talk at all.”

Lexa rose onto her elbows, a wide smile breaking through the melancholy of revisiting her tortures, and leaned down to capture Clarke’s lips with her own. Spirits, I’ve missed this. She caressed her hand up Clarkes’ neck, chin, cheek, to bury it in the corn-silk soft hair, pulling herself closer to the heat of Clarke’s skin. Sister Wolf rumbled sensually from Lexa’s chest and Clarke released an appreciative gasp, driving Lexa to deepen the kiss. Her hand tightened in the blonde’s braids before retracing its path down Clarke’s face to her neck, collarbones, and danced lightly over the smooth skin of her exposed breast. Her little flame arched her back and goosebumps rippled down her arms. Sister Wolf growled possessively and Lexa’s fingers increased their pressure as they dragged down ribs, stomach, hip and thigh before traveling once more to cup the silky skin of Clarke’s breast. Again she arched her back into the touch and breathed Lexa’s name. The wolf abandoned Clarke’s mouth and let her teeth and tongue follow the path her hand had taken, reveling in the small moans slipping from her little flame’s lips. She nipped at her hip and was rewarded by Clarke jerking upwards with a gasp of pleasure. She smiled against Clarke’s skin and trailed lips up the smooth plane of her stomach to capture her pebbled nipple in her mouth. She flicked her tongue against the sensitive flesh and could smell the wave of arousal flooding through her love. Clarke’s arousal drove Sister Wolf to distraction and she demanded they claim her right there and then. It was only Lexa’s profound respect for Clarke that kept her from following Sister Wolf’s need. She grudgingly drew back and had to fight to keep control all over again when she saw Clarke’s pupils blown so wide only the thinnest sliver of blue remained. Jok, this woman is going to be the death of me.

“Clarke,” the blonde licked her swollen lips and Lexa had to stop for a second, transfixed by the sight. Regaining her train of thought, she sat up and pulled Clarke up as well. “We have to talk. My wolf--”

“Has chosen me as her mate and you want to be respectful of my boundaries and not press the matter, right?” Lexa’s jaw dropped as Clarke succinctly summed up the issue she wanted to discuss. “Well here’s the thing,” Clarke’s gaze bored into her own, “I want you Lexa. I want you and SIster Wolf. I don’t understand everything about this whole mate thing, but if it means I get to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you in this bed, I’m all in. I choose you, Lexa.”

Lexa and Sister Wolf were both speechless at the love and acceptance beaming from azure eyes. Clarke took advantage of her shock to hook a leg behind hers and flip their positions. Lexa hit the mattress with a small huff and Clarke flashed her a wicked grin.

“My turn,” oh fuck, spirits, that’s so fuckin hot , Lexa’s thoughts lost coherency as Clarke lowered herself over Lexa and mirrored that trail Lexa’s lips had taken on the Alpha’s body with her own teeth and tongue. Holy shit, fuuuuuuuck . Lexa couldn’t stop the spasm of her hips as Clarke bit down on the tender skin just as Lexa had. She smirked up at Lexa’s stunned gaze and laughed. She slowly drew herself back up Lexa’s body to wrap her lips around her overly sensitive nipple and stroked it with her tongue while taking the other nipple in her hand and rolling gently between her fingers. Joooooooookkkk . Apparently Lexa had lost the ability to think in English as well. The air was thick with the smell of their desire and need.

“ Klark , beja ,” The Commander begged this incredible human woman, submitting to her lover, her mate.

The bond between them snapped into place as Clarke entered her, filling her with ripples of wonder as she could now feel Clarke’s own joy and pleasure at claiming her.

“ MINE, ” Sister Wolf rose to the surface and bit Clarke on the neck hard enough to break skin and draw blood. She licked the skin clean and apologized with gentle kisses that soon faltered under the rhythmic movements of Clarke’s fingers. They wrapped themselves in each other and spent the rest of the morning relishing the fierce happiness of their joining.

Chapter Text

Lexa entered her office and headed to her chair, only to whack her hip against the edge of her desk. The fuck? She went to sit in her chair without paying attention, wrapped up in her thoughts, and thumped onto her ass. Snapped back to the present by this rude awakening, Lexa looks bewildered at where her chair was supposed to be. It was there, just the left of where Lexa fell to the floor. Lexa rose to her feet, glancing around her suspiciously. She could feel mischievous glee trickling down her mate bond, but could sense nothing else beyond that. She harrumphed and situated herself in her chair. She reached for where she had left her pen, but it was gone. She looked up and saw it sitting innocently two inches to the right of its normal spot. Okay that’s it . She stood back up, hitting her hip against the desk again as she rounded it and stood in the center of her office, slowly turning in a circle and scrutinizing the room. Oh that devious little… She trailed off as Sister Wolf laughed at their mate’s antics. Because it had to be Clarke, no one else would dare mess with the Commander, Supreme Leader of North American werewolves. 

Every single thing in her office had been shifted an inch or two from its original position. Her desk was too close to the door and her chair had been shifted to the left. Even the bookcases were misaligned. It wasn’t even all shifted along the same plane, no, Clarke had moved each individual object two inches in different directions, completely disrupting Lexa’s perfectly arranged feng shui that had taken a good month to cultivate to her satisfaction. 

“CLAAAAAARRRKE!!!” Bursts of laughter and the sound of scurrying feet revealed where Clarke had been hiding, waiting for her mate to notice what she’d done. Lexa masked her mirth as she raced out of the room to go hunt down her little flame.

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Tilly petulantly pulled off the last of the pixie’s wings, letting the creature drop heavily to the ground in disgust. She was booooored . Her favorite toy had gone and run off and Tilly couldn’t even leave to get her back! Her little foot kicked a clod of dirt from the ground, sending it spinning into the air. She tossed her strawberry-blonde curls over her shoulder and wandered down a path that appeared in front of her. In the clearing she’d just vacated, a mound of tiny bodies lay on the ground, writhing as the mutilated pixies moaned in pain.

She sensed a new visitor enter her realm and flitted over to investigate. Hmm, she could be useful . Underhill had begun opening her doors to the Fae again after having driven most of them out with her flamethrower and sealed the entrances behind them, figuring a few centuries without her would teach them some respect. But now, she was lonely. She’d exhausted most of the interesting things remaining in her lands and she needed new playmates. The flaming human had been incredibly amusing for the first several centuries, but Tilly had begun running out of new things to throw at her. So she’d opened a couple doors to allow some new friends to wander in and her Viking toy had found one and escaped.

She materialized behind the newcomer and folded her petite arms in front of her. White hair was pulled up in a complex bun, held in place with silver chains and what looked like some kind of jawbone. A flowing cape of snowy ermine fur draped across a tall, willowy body, luxuriously soft.  The newcomer eventually turned around and acknowledged TIlly with a deep bow of respect. That’s more like it .

“What happened here?” The newcomer asked, gesturing to the blackened devastation around her overgrown with greenery.

“Well, the Ice Queen captured a group of humans that proved to be too much for her. One of them roasted her alive and then destroyed half my realm. I’m really rather annoyed with that one right now.” Tilly carefully skirted the truth about exactly who had been responsible for the Fairy Queen’s demise. It wouldn’t do for this one to know who was truly to blame for this fiery destruction.

“This puny human murdered my sister and her entire court? And she still lives?” Ice-blue eyes flashed above pallid, scarred cheeks and pinched lips. A towering crown of ice formed upon her head as the new Queen of the Ice Court drew herself up imperiously.

“Yes, but she escaped and now I can’t find her.” Tilly pouted, sticking her lower lip out, before peering up at Queen Nia imploringly. “Maybe there’s something you can do about that. I can’t leave my own realm at the moment, but you can move about freely in the human lands, can’t you?” The Ice Queen gave her a curt nod. “How about we make a bargain? If you can return the Flamekeeper to me alive, I will restore this Court to its former majesty.”

Queen Nia examined Tilly’s expression thoroughly, searching her eyes for any hint of trickery. Tilly widened her eyes innocently, exuding child-like virtue from her small face. She wouldn’t be Underhill if she couldn’t play this game.

“Deal.”