They had been travelling through the Dead Zone. The solar panels reflected the glimmering sun as the truck streaked through the desert, small bursts of sand spurting by the tires, and the ride, ironically, had never felt smoother than before. As if the truck was at home.
One hour into the desert, Madi had asked the first question.
"Can—" Madi said, worried, as her gaze bounced from Clarke to Lexa: "can you talk about the Conclave?"
Lexa was surprised at the question. Usually, Madi had asked questions of the present or the distant past, and the questions of the former were usually aimed at Clarke, to the woman who had once lived in space (and the questions had only piled up, ever since Madi had learned of their people's survival underneath the bunker—and asked questions about Octavia, whom Clarke had told stories of when she spoke of Skaikru, someone whom Madi once thought had died to the radiation since she was not listed as one of the people living in space). There was usually nothing of interest with regards to Lexa's culture or their traditions, save for the Commander's stories—for their traditions Madi knew all too well, especially ones that involved Nightbloods and Fleimkipas.
At Clarke's glare, Lexa turned back to Madi, "When you're older," she finally said, ignoring Clarke's increasingly intense side-glare as she simultaneously drove the truck.
"No!" Madi whined, and then said: "I'm nine, Lexa! I've walked in on you two making out once. I can handle it."
Lexa tried to push down the furious blush colouring her cheeks, as Clarke took a break from her glaring to choke on nonexistent water as she was driving. "Okay, fine," Lexa finally managed to splutter out. "But I will stop if you appear uncomfortable."
She would give her a diluted version of the Conclave, she decided.
It wasn't that Lexa did not want to tell Madi. She would have to, eventually, especially when it was the first question that surfaced her people's minds whenever she spoke of being Heda— and Madi was no exception. However, there was nothing more than Lexa would like than to forget about it, especially in a day and time when such fights and Conclaves were held at no value or regard as it once were in their lives anymore.
Furthermore, Conclaves were the fear and honour of Nightbloods, the raw bone which built their blood. And after Madi's experiences, she knew that she would classify herself as the former—and Lexa certainly didn't blame her.
It was fairly unusual of Madi to ask of such, and Lexa didn't want to pry why. Still waiting for the red on her cheeks to die down, as Clarke "miraculously" found she was unable to simultaneously glare while driving, Lexa took a breath and began.
''The Conclave is an event that was hosted in the case of a Commander's death. Its participants were Nightbloods, who would be trained for the role depending on every Kru's standards. Some would be taken since birth, while others would be in their late teens—''
''— Not that,'' Madi interrupted, as Lexa's eyes flew to Madi's at the disturbance. Then, Madi's eyes flickered away from the road to meet Lexa. ''No... I meant, could you tell me about your Conclave?''
Silence. As Lexa's eyes flickered away from Madi's, Clarke had suddenly regained the ability to glare while driving. But then, there was a breath and one small nod. ''I will stop if you appear uncomfortable,'' she repeated and closed her eyes. Waited for the memories.
"There were eight contestants. One, Shaben. Two, Yeoh. Three, Vrak. Four, Luna..."
Madi's eyes flew up to meet Lexa's, as if just recognising her words. And then from surprise, it settled into unease.
Lexa cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at Madi's expression. It was as if by giving her the names to the faces that died in a bloodbath, it was as if she had given the murky faces their souls as well— it had finally sunk into Madi that they weren't expendable, unlike how Fleimkipas had ingrained it so. "Madi. I don't need to continue, if you don't want to."
