"Checkmate" Wells calls out as he throws his hands up in triumph an hour into their first game.

Wells had been invited to the President's decadent office earlier in the day by one of Dante's personal guards. He'd thought they'd somehow been figured out, but then it turned out that the President just wanted a challenger for his game. Wells was more than happy to participate and make use of the carefully preserved antique chess board and its hand carved pieces.

It's only the second time he's been in the President's personal office. The space was impressive with its collection of artifacts from before the bombs fell. During their game, he spent time asking Dante about some of the items. The small flag on his desk which, represented the former world power know as the United States of America. Dante spoke at length of how his office was modeled after the Oval Office right down to the carpet with the Presidential seal emblazoned on it. Of course he added his own personal touches with the pieces of art sprinkled throughout the room to add color and brightness. Some of the paintings were from world renowned artists and others Dante had painted himself as he tied the room together. He wanted it to be reflective of their new reality and what lead them to where they are now, for him and all that succeed him.

"Good game" Dante congratulates him with a warm smile and a small clap of his hands. "I'd say you're anything but rusty."

"You aren't so bad yourself, you had me up against a wall for quite some time with some of your plays. Where did you even learn those moves?"

"My father may have been President but my mother was the master tactician." Dante recalls warmly as he starts resetting his side of the board. "How did you learn?"

"My father taught Clarke and I how to play," Wells states fondly, while following Dante's lead and resetting his own chess pieces into place. "We'd play for hours everyday and our parents would have to pry us away, especially if we were in the middle of a stalemate."

Dante laughs along with Wells. "I tried teaching Cage, when he was growing up, but he was always more interested in rough housing than intellectual pursuits." he says while resetting the board for another game. "Another round? It's been a while since I've had a real challenge at this game."

"Of course, but only if you teach me that move you played in the last game." Wells smiles as Dante nods his agreement.

"There's something I don't understand about this place yet." Wells says as he considers his next move on the board, eyes running over it trying to figure out his next play.

"And what's that?" Dante asks watching him from his leaned back position in his seat. He knows he has a comfortable advantage and doesn't mind waiting for Wells to make his next move. In all his years he hasn't had someone so competent in the skills this game requires to give him a run for his money. Wells reminds him a lot of himself and he thinks together they will make a formidable enemy to the grounders.

"Was your family in charge before the bombs fell?" He asks curious about the portraits lining the walls leading to the office. "I thought America was a democracy?"

Dante lets out a small chuckle and takes a sip of his coffee. "Yes, before the bombs fell America was a democracy and there was someone else in charge. The President at the time was giving her state of the union address on the day the bombs dropped, my grandfather, who was the minister of education had been selected to be the designated survivor for the speech."

"Designated survivor?" Wells asks unfamiliar with the term.

"Back then it was a temporary title given to a government official who would be asked to miss out on a major gathering, such as a Presidential inauguration, in the event of a disaster wiping out their assembled colleagues. It's a role my grandfather had played previously and he was familiar with the procedures. The night of the speech he'd been whisked away to a secure facility to await the end of the speech. Twenty minutes before the President's closing words the first wave of bombs hit, taking out the capital and various other major cities. As chaos unfolded,him, my family, and other survivors of the first wave were moved to Mount Weather. My family has been in charge ever since."

"Why didn't you try to leave the mountain?" Wells follows up, while moving one of his pawns across the board.

Dante stares out past Wells, his eyes glazed as he seems lost in a memory, his finger fidgeting with one of his pieces. A long time goes by before he finally answers,"We did try….56 years ago. For 5 minutes. I was 7 when the first of what we call the outsiders appeared. Before that, we thought we were all there was. Imagine our surprise... My father, this was his office at the time, believed it meant that the Earth was survivable again, and so, he opened the doors. Within a week, 54 people were dead from the exposure. My mother and sister among them." His eyes cast downward for a moment as a myriad of emotions flood his face, sadness being the most prominent, before he regains himself and moves his chosen piece on the board.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Wells says shifting in his seat as he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He measures his words as he turns the information over in his head. His stomach churns as he realizes why these people may be so interested in him and the others.

"It was a long time ago and I'm sure you all came down thinking the same thing as we did back then." Dante shrugs off, his fatherly demeanor returning. Almost as if the memory of his loss no longer affects him. "We've learned a lot since those days."

"The council thought nobody could have survived the bombs, our group was very well surprised to encounter people down here." Wells confirms, before taking a long sip of his water.

"Especially one of your own, I bet." Dante says nodding to the board.

Wells only nods as he moves his next piece on the board. Intentionally or not with his mention of Clarke, the President has just confirmed his suspicions that the mountain had been keeping tabs on them ever since they landed. He wonders if they tried to get to Clarke before the grounders did, happy in the knowledge that they didn't succeed, if his suspicions about their intent is accurate. Wells knows now more than ever they need to get out.

"Hey Clarke, can we talk?" Finn calls out as he sees Clarke leaving the Commander's tent. He's been trying to talk to her for days, but she'd been too busy to give him the time of day. Determined he'd set up a perch near the tent in order to be able to catch her as soon as she finally emerged and his patience has been rewarded.

"Finn," Clarke turns from her original destination to face him, noting the way his face lights up as she looks at him. "I'm actually on my way to the training ground, we can talk on the way there."

Finn's smile widens as he gets closer to Clarke, his hand twitching to reach out and hold hers. "Of course."

The two walk in silence for a few minutes as Clarke gives Finn time to collect his thoughts. She feels odd being next to him, knowing all that they shared on the Ark. She feels the echoes of emotions from what feel like a lifetime ago. She can still see it in the way he looks at her though, he hasn't moved on.

"I've been thinking a lot about this impending fight with the mountain people." He says breaking Clarke from her thoughts. "I don't think it's a good idea, we are so severely outmatched."

"I know everyone has their own worries about what's to come and the mountains capabilities, but believe me they're scared. Their worst nightmare has come to fruition with the clans at peace, united against a common enemy." She tries to reassure him. Finn, despite his troublemaking ways, was always a pacifist, the guy who would break up the fights.

"Clarke is this really a fight we need to be involved in?" He asks motioning between the two of them. "The grounders are together, they don't need us for this fight, it's their battle not ours."

Clarke halts her movements and turns on Finn, who shrinks back slightly. "You do realise most of the hundred are now trapped inside the mountain right?"

"I know that, but it doesn't mean we have to go to war with the mountain to get them out, we could just go there and cut a deal." He rushes out, hoping to calm Clarke by explaining his plan. "We have no dog in this fight, all we have to do is go there tell them we won't help the grounders if they let our people go and then we leave. Clarke, we'd be free, you'd be free and we could be together."

Clarke has to resist the urge rising up within her to cut him down where he stands. "This isn't the Ark Finn, you can't talk or trade your way out of a fight any more. Those people in there are my people. The Mountain Men kidnapped, killed and turned our people into monsters for centuries and now they've got most of the hundred in there and there's no telling what they have in store for them."

"You don't know that Clarke, why would they harm them? You've been brainwashed by these people and are ready to go to war for them, ready to kill innocent men, women and children."

Clarke shakes her head "none of them are innocent Finn, they're all complicit in the suffering of our people."

"Clarke!" Finn grits out frustratedly, "I am your people, your mom and those of us on the Ark, the hundred are your people. Not these war hungry savages, open your eyes!"

Clarke lets out a humorless laugh, "those people murdered my father and locked me in a prison cell for trying to expose the truth. The Trikru rescued me, took me in and see me as one of them, they could have taken you all out the minute you landed, it's by the grace of those savages and their leader that you're all still alive."

Clarke immediately turns on her heels and walks away from Finn, needing to put as much distance between them before she hurts him.

Finn lets her go, noting that she may be too far gone to see the truth with gentle probing. She's been down here too long, the Clarke he knows, the Clarke he loves, has been corrupted by the Commander and her people.

"I thought you'd lost your way," Lexa jokes as Clarke breaks through the trees into the big open field that's being used as their training ground. Back in Polis the two have regular sparring sessions, one of the duties Titus had assigned to Clarke as part of her training. He'd hoped that Clarke would draw a line when faced with the possibility of having to fight her wife and prove once and for all she was unfit to take on the role of fleimkepa, due to her emotional attachment. He'd been sorely mistaken as Clarke pushed Lexa even harder than he used to.

"That literally only happened once, you and Anya should let it go now." Clarke huffs, not liking the reminder of the time she'd gotten turned around on a hunt and couldn't find her way back to the group. A very annoyed Anya had found her hours later and spent their walk back to camp reprimanding her for it.

"I had a run in with Finn on my way here." She says to her wife as she strips out of her coat and puts her weapons away. Today's session would be in hand to hand combat.

Lexa who'd been wrapping her hands turns and looks up at the mention of Finn. "What did he want?" She sighs out.

"He thinks that we should make a deal with the Maunon to release those of the hundred they've captured. I had to set him right." Clarke relays as she starts wrapping her own hands.

"Do you think we should be concerned about him? It's clear he doesn't approve of our ways."

"Luckily, he doesn't have a say in what happens and the Ark council are eager to find a home in our alliance." Clarke says as they both enter the ring across from each other.

"Still it may be wise to keep an eye on him and those he spends time with." Lexa says before lunging at Clarke, who swiftly evades Lexa and manages to land a shot of her own. Lexa chuckles at her smug smile.

"You may be right." Clarke agrees readying herself for the next attack. "However he is the least of our concerns right now. Hopefully Anya, Raven and Sinclair's mission will bear fruit and they'll find the power source."

Lexa's next attack comes in a flurry, which Clarke attempts to block only to have her legs swept from under her. Lexa seizes the opportunity and straddles her opponent, pinning Clarke's hands above her head. "I'm sure they will succeed, now yield."

"I'm not Titus, I do not yield that easily!" Clarke laughs as she struggles to jostle Lexa off of her.