A/N: This chapter has been rewritten! And now reedited on 09/09/2016 for spelling, grammar and flow improvements courtesy of ritavrataski (aka my life saver)

Accidentally inspired myself during a short convo with turtleduckie on the tumblr (seriously if you haven't seen their Clexa HP AU art, a) have you been living under a rock? And b) do your eyes a favour and check it out)... Anyway, as soon as I typed the words "imagine if they kept Anya alive" I was off.

Now part of a multi chapter story!

The early morning air chilled Clarke's skin as she left Niylah's trading post. Sunrise wouldn't be for another couple of hours and she knew if she left now she could make it back to her camp in time for first light.

The dream that roused her from Niylah's bed still lapped at the edge of her mind and Clarke could feel the bile rising from her stomach again. She could never remember the exact details, but she knew it always started with the white walls of Mt Weather. She also knew it always ended with the same walls dripping with the blood of the Mountain Men as the sounds of children echoed all around her.

Truthfully, everything that had happened since landing on the ground had felt like a dream, a never ending nightmare of indiscernible proportion. A part of her feared that maybe the past few weeks were a dream, that maybe she was still locked in a cell on the Ark waiting for release. Maybe the oxygen was finally failing, and this was her slowly dying.

Pulling her shirt away from her shoulder Clarke grimaced as the claw shaped cuts the cat had left behind rubbed against the coarse fabric. It would need treating when she got back to her temporary home. Niylah had cleaned it as best she could, but in her haste to bed the girl, Clarke hadn't given her the chance to finish dressing it.

It hadn't been her intent to have sex with Niylah and she frowned at the thought of the woman waking up to find her gone. Niylah was kind, and trusting, and Clarke knew the other woman deserved so much more than she could ever offer her. From the fist moment Clarke had walked into the trading post all those weeks ago, her freshly dyed hair a tangle of leaves and twigs, her clothes torn and her skin barely visible under the layer of grime that covered her, Niylah had offered her nothing but kindness and understanding.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lip as she remembered dropping three dead squirrels on the counter. The other woman had quirked her eyebrow at them before asking Clarke what she wanted in return. Clarke was sure the fur Niylah gave her was worth far more than those three skinny dead animals, but her desperation for warmth had her taking it without question.

The smile quickly dropped into a frown again because all Clarke had managed to do with that kindness was to use it for her own need to feel something. She had tainted another life.

Taking a final breath, and hoisting her bag back onto her shoulder Clarke began her journey back. In her head she went over her path again, it would only taken a couple of hours to get back, maybe three if she stopped at the stream to wash herself first.

She didn't quite make it though, and she was only a few steps away from Niylah's door when her breath caught at the sudden feel of a cold blade pressing into her throat.

Her mind quickly whirled into life, analysing the situation as best she could. A bounty hunter. Probably. Most likely the same two that had been looking for her the previous night. Clarke wasn't dead yet though, which told her one thing; they needed her alive.

"Hello Wanheda." And of course Anya would be the one to find her. "Move."

Another blade pressed into the small of her back and Clarke stumbled forwards, quickly realising she had no choice but to follow Anya's directions away from Niylah's hut and into the woods.

"What do you want Anya?" The only reply she received was the twisting of the knife at her back and a kick to her shoe.

They were barely past the tree line when Anya swung her around, slamming her back into rough bark. The wound on her shoulder smarted uncomfortably, and Clarke could already feel the warmth of fresh blood.

The other woman's eyes bore into her own, smudges of war paint across her face and Clarke couldn't help gulping as the cool metal of her knife pushed into her throat again. "You're being hunted."

"By who?" There was no reply and Clarke knew it was futile, but she still struggled against the binds Anya started to wrap around her wrists.

"Everyone." Anya answered bluntly. Clarke's eyes immediately looked up from the other woman's hands to try and read her expression, only to be disappointed when she remained as unreadable as ever.

"Lexa?" The name was practically snarled, and once again she could feel her stomach churning with memories of the Mountain.

"She's not the one you should be worried about." Anya's voice strained as she tightened the knot against Clarke's skin. "Move."

Before Clarke could comprehend what was happening she was being roughly manhandled away from the tree, and forced into step behind the other woman.

"And who exactly should I be worried about?"

"Az Kwin." The Ice Queen. Memories of Lexa's story about Costia flashed across Clarke's mind and an uncontrollable anger rose in her.

"I am not Lexa's." She argued back, tugging on the rope and forcing Anya to stop.

Clarke wouldn't be Lexa's. Not ever. Not after the traitor had abandoned her on the side of the Mountain. It sickened Clarke to think the Ice Nation's Queen was after her because she belonged to the Commander. Because she was her weakness.

A humourless laugh came from the grounder in front of her. "The Ice Queen wants the blood of the Wanheda for herself. She wants your power sky girl."

"What power?" Clarke asked in confusion. Anya stopped again, and Clarke watched her curiously as she started to rip away part of her shirt.

"The power to command death itself." Before Clarke could even protest the absurdity of it, Anya was spinning around and forcing the ripped material of her shirt into her mouth. "Enough talking."

A sharp pull of the rope had her following Anya deeper into the woods. She was being taken back to the Commander, and Clarke's heart started to hammer at the thought of it, because she wasn't ready. Clarke wasn't going to let the grounder drag her back into the world she had spent the last three months running away from without a fight. She had to get away from Anya.

Clarke's first opportunity for escape came when they reached the shore of a winding stream. She started by falling behind, just enough to force Anya to start dragging her. The grounder had left her gagged for the whole day, no food, no water, so it wouldn't be out of the realms of possibility for Clarke to collapse from exhaustion. She was just a weak "sky girl" after all. So that was exactly what Clarke did.

After a few more staggered steps, Clarke let her body become complete boneless as it fell to the floor, grunting as her knees hit the hard pebbled ground.

The rope around her wrists bit into the flesh as Anya tried to drag her along regardless, and a part of her feared the stubborn woman might just drag her the whole way back. "Get up." Anya tried to move her along again, pulling the rope tight before finally letting go.

Clarke could hear her approaching, the pebbles shifting underneath her feet with every movement. It took all her concentration not to flinch when Anya's boot met her side, roughly shifting her onto her back. "Still as weak as ever." She heard a scoff and the mocking tone enter the other woman's voice. "The great Wanheda. Still human after all."

Clarke listened carefully as Anya let out a string of disgruntled curses, focusing on the volume of her voice and the crunching of the rocks as she moved away. Cautiously she opened her eyes and tilted her head towards the stream, her eyes focusing on Anya's crouched form.

As silently as possible, Clarke pushed herself to her feet and carefully crossed the distance between them. The sound of the river would mask her approach, but she still watched her every step, deliberately placing her feet to avoid the looser looking rocks.

Waiting, she watched as Anya filled the canteen in her hand, and she prepared the rope, twisting the frayed material around her knuckles.

Just as Anya began to stand again, Clarke launched herself onto the unsuspecting woman's back, pulling the rope around her neck and holding on for dear life. A chocked sound came from her now constricted throat; and Clarke felt one of her hands grasping onto her, short nails digging into her skin.

Anya stumbled forwards into the water, her breaths wheezing through her constricted airway, but Clarke still held on. Even when Anya fell face first into the water she continued her assault, falling on top of the woman's body into the stream. It only took a beat for Clarke to gain her footing, and she used the leverage to hold Anya down.

She wouldn't let Anya take her back to Lexa, she wasn't going to let her take her back to that betrayer.

The body beneath her thrashed in the water and Clarke pulled tighter and tighter on the rope in her hands until the movement finally stopped. Even as she panted for breath, Clarke held the rope for a moment longer before loosening her grip.

Anya was dead.

A sorrow Clarke wasn't expecting started to bloom inside her chest, and her eyes started to burn. Anya was the woman who had brought the Commander to her, the woman that had sent her off down this twisted rabbit hole of emotion for Lexa.

The gag popped out of her mouth easily, and Clarke flexed her jaw to relieve the stiffness from keeping it open for so long. She couldn't leave Anya here.

Clarke didn't have the chance to think about how she was going to dispose of her though because the seemingly dead body was suddenly springing to life underneath her.

Clarke wasn't quick enough to block the elbow Anya slammed back into her ribs. She barely even moved back, but the wind was firmly knocked out of her and Clarke wasn't prepared for Anya's arm shooting up and grappling onto her. There was a sudden sensation of flying as Clarke found herself flipped over the half drowned woman's shoulder and into the water. Now it was her turn to thrash, and she could just make out Anya's face through the swirling water in above her.

Clarke's lungs started to burn as she continued to struggle, her feet kicking helplessly, looking for any kind of footing to get her head above the water. It was as black dots began dancing across her vision that Anya finally relented, pulling sharply at the material on her shoulders until her head was back above the water line.

Air filled Clarke's oxygen deprived lungs, and her chest ached as she spluttered out the water that was still caught in her throat.

"Don't test me." Anya said breathlessly. The other woman was just as out of breath as Clarke was and they both sat kneeling in front of each other for a moment, both of them taking in equally deep gulps of air.

It was Anya that stood first, rubbing uncomfortably at the red line around her neck. The grounder was forcing Clarke to her feet a moment later and pushing her out of the stream. "Now move."

Their wet clothes clung to them, and Clarke wanted to ask Anya to stop so they could both dry off because she knew the other woman's clothes must have been weighing heavy on her too.

The warmth of the sun had dried all but the thickest parts of her now blonde hair though and Clarke mourned the loss of her red locks. They were meant to hide who she was. No one was looking for the red haired grounder - no one except Lexa and her ever loyal general at least.

Anya hadn't spoken to her since forcing her out the water and Clarke wondered if it was because of the rawness she must have been feeling in her throat. She had almost killed the grounder, again. All because she didn't want to face Lexa and Clarke didn't want to acknowledge the guilt she felt at her attack.

It wasn't like the first time. Back then, in front of the drop ship, she thought she had been fighting for her life. Now Clarke was just fighting to stop herself from having to face the consequence of her actions at the Mountain.

A grunt of pain left her throat as Anya pushed her to the ground, her shoulder colliding painfully with the dead tree branch behind her.

"Quiet." Anya's voice husked. With a gentleness Clarke didn't expect, Anya pulled her forwards until she could see over the branch. There were three people in the distance and she could just make out the white war paint smeared across the closest man's face. "Ice Nation scouts. Come, we'll back track, go around-"

This was opportunity number two to escape. Clarke knew about the animosity between the Ice Nation and Trikru. Anya would undoubtedly have to fight the three scouts. In the meantime she could escape into the trees behind her. The rope around her wrists wasn't thick, it wouldn't take Clarke long to cut through it, then she could flee into the wilds and out of Lexa's clutches again.

So she screamed.

Anya looked at her with disparaging eyes as she continued to scream through the gag. "I'm tempted to use your thick skull to kill them." There was a bag attached to Anya's belt loop, and truthfully Clarke hadn't paid much attention to it, that was until Anya was pulling it off and covering her head with it. "That's better."

She heard Anya take in a deep breath, and Clarke felt her own heart flutter with nerves because it sounded like Anya was nervous. With a single tug Clarke was on her feet and Anya was shouting across the distance in Trigedasleng. "This is Trikru territory, not Ice Nation."

"Soon this will be all Ice Nation." Clarke froze at the words, because maybe screaming was a mistake.

"Who is this?" It was a different voice, and through the loose weave of the bag, she could just make out silhouette of someone approaching.

"No one." Anya gripped onto her arm tightly. "A prisoner of the Commanders."

The bag was pulled off her head and Clarke blinked in surprise at the unrecognisable masked face in front of her.

"Wanheda?!" He stepped back, and through the slit in his mask Clarke could see the fear in scouts eyes. She would let herself analyse the way her stomach dropped at his fear later.

"We'll be set for life, take her." He quickly indicated towards one of the other scouts, and Clarke almost scoffed because he was clearly too scared to touch her himself.

"I can't let you do that." Anya's grip on her arm loosened, and Clarke bolted the second the rope dropped away from her other hand.

"I'll get her, kill the Trikru bitch." There was one of them behind her; Clarke could hear his heavy foot falls. She pressed on harder, forcing herself to run faster, desperate to make it to tree line.

The clash of steel sounded behind her, but she didn't dare look back, Anya could hold her own long enough for her to make her escape. Clarke only needed a few more seconds and she would be-

Clarke's body collapsed onto the ground, her cheek colliding and scraping painfully on the dirt that was now beneath her face. The dead unmoving weight on top of her told her the scout was dead, and Clarke quickly looked up to the sight of a dagger. Without thinking, she grabbed it stashing it beneath her body, ready to fight off whoever had killed the scout who now pinned her down.

The body was moved off her, and Clarke felt hands grabbing at her shoulders again. Spinning around, she stabbed the dagger blindly into her assailant's side and lifted her hands to strike them in the face. Except, Anya's strong arms parried the below, and Clarke found herself on the end of the other woman's dagger again. "We don't have to keep playing this game Clarke."

"You can't kill me, not when Lexa," The name burnt on her tongue again. "Wants me alive."

"There's still time for you to have an accident, sky girl." Pushing her away again, Clarke doesn't miss the grimace of pain on Anya's face. "Move."

They barely make it past the dead bodies of the scouts when Anya froze. Clarke heard it to, the distance sound of a horn and the other woman cursed. "We need to leave, now!"

This time, Clarke followed the grounder's lead without struggle, rushing behind her as they weaved across the field and towards the tree line on the opposite side. She could guess what was coming, and Clarke knew it wasn't going to end well for either of them if they were caught out in the open.

As they ran Clarke heard a new noise. The deep pounding of drums and Anya's own wild eyes looked at hers. Clarke had been right, and she was certain what she was hearing were war drums. Taking on three scouts was one thing, if the Ice Nation army was approaching she knew they would both be dead before they could state their purpose.

Even as they hit the tree line, Clarke continued to follow Anya, almost colliding into her back as she suddenly paused against a tree. Clarke's eyes widened at the amount of blood that coated the grounders hand as she held it against the tree.

The woman was looking for something, and Clarke watched her as she scoured the area, trying to gain her bearings. "This way." Anya tugged at the rope again and Clarke let her lead the way.

They hadn't been walking for more that a couple of minutes when Clarke spied the old stone structure ahead of them. The stairs in the centre dropped down into the ground and Clarke could feel her heart speeding up at the thought of being trapped underground again.

Just like the Mountain.

The need to flee from the Ice Nation's army quickly outweighed her own panic, and Clarke moved to walk down the ancient stairwell.

Before she could makes it past the first step, Anya was grabbing her shoulder, and Clarke flinched as the other woman's hand tightened on the increasingly sore panther wound. "Draw their attention this time, and we'll both end up dead." Anya's voice held a distinct tone of warning and Clarke nodded because she understood. There was escaping and then there was suicide. There would be other chances for her to flee that wouldn't end with both of them dying.

Anya pushed her down the stairs first and Clarke's eyes took in the dark room at the bottom of them. She wasn't sure what it had been in the old world - there was a tunnel of sorts at the back, rubble and dirt had collapsed in on it though, blocking whatever the passage had once led to.

The first thing Anya did was force her to sit against a pillar, and Clarke winced as her arms were pulled to her side, as the grounder rearranged the rope that had been binding her wrists. Anya did remove her gag though, and Clarke drank greedily from the canteen of water that was silently offered her.

Once Clarke had taken her fill from the canteen, Anya moved around the room without talking. Clarke watched her as she limped around gathering wood, placing more weight on the side that she hadn't stabbed. There was a fire burning minutes later and Clarke knew exactly what Anya was planning to do when she rested the blade of her dagger in the flames.

Without any warning, Anya stripped off her shirt, leaving her in just her chest bindings. Clarke would have looked away, but the thick black lines of the tattoo that covered her whole back had her eyes transfixed. The artist in her couldn't help appreciating the intricate pattern of swirls. She was silently amazed at the hours of pain staking work it must have taken to place them there.

"You're getting better, another inch and I would be dead." Anya muttered. Their fight in front of the drop ship, when Clarke had almost stabbed the grounder to death crossed her mind. "So much for Commander of Death."

Clarke didn't reply. That was what she was now. That was what the grounders saw her as. Four months ago, it had been "Princess", she had been harmless. Nobody could have seen what she would become.

"Now you chose to be quiet?" The other woman questioned. Looking up, Anya was facing her, and the doctor in Clarke wanted to tell her to stop poking at the cut on her stomach. "Was this meant to be revenge for the time I stabbed you?"

"You didn't stab me, you got in a lucky cut that's all." Clarke replied without thinking.

Anya let out a dry humourless laugh. "Always so difficult."

"Why are you taking me back to Lexa?" The question had been burning at her the whole day. She knew that was where Anya was taking her, but Clarke didn't understand why. Did Anya need to buy back the Commander's good graces? Was she going to be used as a bargaining chip in the coalition? There was another scenario, one that involved her safety and Lexa actually caring about her, but Clarke refused to let her thoughts linger on it for long.

"Probably so she can use your power sky girl." Clarke's blood ran cold.

"So you're taking me there for Lexa to kill me?" Of course the heartless bitch would want to kill her. She had abandoned her at the Mt Weather to die, so killing her with her own treacherous hands should be no problem.

Anya just shook her head at her. "You're more foolish than I thought, if you believe Heda would have you killed."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She questioned, her brow creasing in confusion because if Lexa didn't want her killed... If Lexa wanted to keep her alive-

"It means I'm tired of your whining." Anya's tone was cold and sharp, and Clarke couldn't help flinching at the sound of it. "Heda should just let the Az Kwin kill you."

"Thanks." She replied humourlessly.

"Maybe she would absorb your idiocy." Anya shifted her gaze away from her and Clarke watched as she picked up the glowing blade from the fire. It wasn't surprising to her that when Anya pushed the red hot metal to her skin, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air, the woman barely flinched. Only a deep groan and the squinting of her eyes gave away her discomfort.

"The great Wanheda, the mountain slayer." Anya muttered, and whilst still holding the dagger she drew closer to Clarke before squatting down to look her in the eyes. "The lost little coward."

"I'm not a coward. Or did you miss the part where I slew the Mountain." The words made her feel sick. It wasn't just the guilty who had died that day.

"Then why did you run away from your people?" Anya accused.

Clarke wasn't a coward for leaving. She wasn't. She just didn't want to be around her people any more, she didn't want them to see what humanity she had sacrificed for them.

Turning the question around she glowered at Anya. "Why did your Commander take the coward's way out and abandon me at the Mountain?"

"For a coward, you talk as if you are brave." Forcing the gag back into Clarke's mouth, Anya stepped away from her again, apparently done with her talking. "You don't understand what Heda is willing to sacrifice for you."

If the make shift gag hadn't been forced back into her mouth she would have argued back. The Commander had sacrificed nothing for her, Clarke was the one who had sacrificed everything for her people. She could blame Lexa for their deaths all she wanted, but it was her sacrifice that had led to the blood of the innocent dripping from her hands. Lexa had sacrificed nothing but her thirst for revenge on the Mountain.

"There's someone coming, stay quiet." Anya pulled her shirt back on and Clarke tried to turn in her binds, desperate to see where the other woman had gone. She knew that Anya wouldn't abandon her, not when she had spent the whole day getting her here.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs and her body froze. She could hear them getting closed, and she preyed the sound of her heart thundering in her chest wasn't actually audible.

The best scenario was that they would recognise her and try to take her captive. Clarke could escape if they did that. The worst case was they could kill her on sight, no questions asked.

Preparing herself, Clarke drew her legs up, ready to kick out at the person behind her-

Bellamy.

Her thoughts were completely disjointed because it was Bellamy in front of her. There were so many questions firing off in her mind and her eyes searched his face because this couldn't be real.

"Hey," His hand made contact with her face, stroking the hair back behind her ear. Clarke felt it, the rough pads of his finger, he was real. Ungagging her, he smiled. "I'll get you out of here."

The movement out the corner of her eye suddenly reminded her that Anya was still there. "Look out!"

Bellamy didn't stand a chance, and Anya effortlessly parried his gun away before he could get his finger near the trigger. Her blade going straight to his throat; and Clarke tried to pull the binds loose again.

"Anya no, no please don't!" Tears were already gathering in her eyes, her voice desperately pleading. Bellamy couldn't die because of her. "I'll do anything, please, Anya, Bellamy disabled the acid fog. He got us into the mountain."

The tears were about to spill down her cheeks when Anya's angry eyes looked into hers. "Fine."

"Thank you." She replied quietly. Clarke had barely even finished saying the words when Anya stabbed her dagger down hard into Bellamy's leg. His agonised cry echoed off the walls of the small room. Desperate to help him, Clarke pulled at her restraints again, the binds chafing painfully against her skin.

"Follow us and not even your role in the Mountain will save you." The butt of the grounders sword made contact with the side of Bellamy's head with a sickening crack, knocking him out immediately.

Untangling the ropes, Anya pulled Clarke's hands in front again, binding them together even tighter than before. Clarke's eyes didn't leave Bellamy though, and she studied his neck, trying to watch for a visible pulse.

"He's alive, now move, we're only a half days walk from Polis." Anya ordered, and Clarke heart thundered again as Anya dragged her towards the stairs. "Heda will answer your question soon enough."

A/N: You can find me on the tumblr under AmyBot3000

Despite what some of the story content might imply, I am Clexa as fuck, but at this point Clarke is most definitely not...