Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jolting awake, Clarke gasped for air, her chest rising and falling as if she had just emerged from the depths of a dark ocean. Thick beads of sweat clung to her forehead, tracing paths down her temples. The familiar grip of despair wrapped around her heart, a relentless reminder of the choices she had made. Each night was the same; the memories of Mount Weather haunted her dreams, a never-ending loop of screams and blood that replayed mercilessly in her mind.

“Shhh, Clarke, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” Niylah’s soft voice cut through the suffocating darkness. Turning to her left, Clarke’s gaze met Niylah’s warm brown eyes, which flickered with concern and determination. It was a lifeline in the storm, grounding her back to reality. Feeling the weight of Niylah’s presence, she quickly hopped out of bed, her limbs heavy with exhaustion but propelled by the need for movement.

Clarke dressed in the dim light, each piece of clothing a barrier against the chill that settled into her bones. She leaned down and pressed her lips against Niylah's forehead, an impulse of gratitude that felt inadequate. “Thank you, Niylah. I just need some fresh air. Go back to sleep.” The words tumbled out, but she could see the worry flicker across Niylah’s face. Without waiting for a reply, Clarke slipped out of the room and into the cold morning air.

The briskness hit her like a splash of ice water, sharp and shocking, reminding her that she was far from the Ark—far from everything she once knew. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, an instinctual attempt to ward off the cold and the memories that clung to her like shadows. The crisp air filled her lungs, each breath a desperate attempt to calm the storm raging within her. She glanced down at her watch, the glowing numbers reading 2:37 AM. With a heavy sigh, she made her way to her usual spot—a large, rough-hewn boulder surrounded by three smaller ones draped in green moss, a place that had become both refuge and prison.

As she climbed atop the rock, the chill seeped through her clothing, but it was a welcome pain compared to the emotional numbness that threatened to swallow her whole. She released a long breath, the sound mingling with the rustling leaves, a small prayer of surrender to the night. The sky stretched above her, a tapestry of stars twinkling like distant memories, and the moon hung low, casting a silvery glow that felt both comforting and eerie.

Clarke closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, a simple act that now felt monumental. With each inhalation, she tried to untangle the knot of guilt and grief that had twisted itself around her heart for months—a knot that had prevented her from returning to her people, from facing the ones she loved. If it hadn’t been for Niylah, she was sure she would have succumbed to the darkness.

It had been six days since she had left Camp Jaha, a decision born out of desperation. She had taken nothing but a bag containing a water container and a knife, believing that the solitude would grant her the distance she craved. But looking back now, she recognized the folly of her actions. In her mind, she had been a coward, fleeing the weight of her actions instead of confronting it. She had saved her people, but at what cost? The faces of those she had sacrificed flickered in her mind, and she felt the crushing weight of their loss pressing down on her chest.
Her only goal had been to escape the echo of Mount Weather, to put as much distance as possible between herself and the memories that clawed at her sanity. The first few days had been a blur of relentless movement, punctuated only by brief stops to refill her water. That first night, she lay awake, fear and guilt spiraling in her mind, driving her to walk through the darkness instead of allowing herself the solace of sleep. By the third day, exhaustion and hunger became relentless companions, sapping her strength until she collapsed, surrendering to a dreamless sleep that felt both like a blessing and a curse.

When she awoke, disoriented and weak, reality crashed down upon her. She couldn’t keep running—she needed to decide whether she wanted to live. Did she deserve to? After the pain she had caused, the lives she had taken? With each passing moment, she felt more like a ghost wandering through a world that no longer welcomed her.
But even in her despair, she couldn’t bring herself to harm a living creature. Plants were her only sustenance, and on the fifth day, she stumbled upon a patch of wild green onions. Dropping to her knees, she felt a jolt of pain shoot through her weary muscles as she devoured the vegetable, savoring the taste of life coursing back into her veins. Lying back, she closed her eyes under the blazing sun, contemplating the decision that loomed over her like an executioner’s shadow.

She had nothing left—no joy, no purpose, only a haunting void. As she sat up and scanned her surroundings, a large willow tree across the meadow caught her eye. It seemed to beckon her, a silent witness to her pain. In a moment of clarity, she resolved to leave a message, a breadcrumb for anyone who might follow her trail.
"(CG, may we meet again)." The words carved into the bark felt heavy, a confession of her sorrow and a goodbye to the world that had once been her home.
As she sank to the dirt below the tree, the weight of her decision pressed down on her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I hope one day you’ll understand and forgive me for what I’m about to do. I love you.”
Bringing the knife to her arm, she felt the cold metal bite into her skin. She drew it upward slowly, reveling in the pain as it eclipsed the turmoil inside her.

“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” a voice shattered the silence like glass.

Startled, Clarke looked up to see a girl—Niylah—rushing toward her, panic etched on her face. Before she could react, Niylah seized the knife from her grasp, a fierce determination igniting in her eyes.

“Stay still; we don’t want you bleeding out now, do we?” The tone was both soothing and authoritative, and Clarke felt a flicker of confusion amidst the turmoil. Niylah’s hands were surprisingly gentle as she applied pressure to the wound, but the sting of the action brought Clarke back to reality.

“Get off me,” Clarke snapped, a wave of anger surging within her, but Niylah only tightened her grip.

“Hold still; I got you.” Those words, simple yet powerful, wrapped around Clarke’s frayed emotions like a lifeline. For the first time in days, she felt a semblance of calm wash over her, breaking through the fog of hopelessness.

In that moment, she realized something profound: maybe she was still capable of feeling—of being saved. Maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of hope left for her after all.

-Present Time-

Clarke stayed on the boulder until the first light of dawn began to seep into the sky, a soft glow that illuminated the world around her. The cold had seeped into her bones, rendering her legs numb and her muscles stiff. She knew she couldn’t remain out here much longer. With a reluctant sigh, she made her way back to the house, the weight of the night still lingering on her shoulders.

Grabbing a bucket, she followed the well-worn path to the river, her heart steadying with each step. Since moving in with Niylah, she had managed to establish a routine—an anchor in the chaos of her thoughts. Keeping busy with chores and tasks provided her with a sense of purpose that had been missing for so long. Learning how to live off the land was both a challenge and a comfort, a chance to reconnect with a world that felt foreign yet familiar. With Niylah’s patient guidance, she had discovered talents she never knew she possessed: fishing, woodworking, and even gathering herbs. For the first time in a long while, she felt like a child again—free from expectations, free to simply be.

As she walked back, her gaze fell on a couple of horses tied to the post outside the shop. The sight stirred a twinge of unease within her. People often passed through, but the horses’ presence suggested something more significant was happening today. Shrugging it off, she continued to the side of the building, setting the water bucket down with a quiet thud. But just as she reached for the back door, a loud crash echoed through the air.

Freezing, her heart raced. Fear clawed at her throat, tightening its grip.

“Stop, please! I don’t know where Wanheda is!” Niylah’s voice rang out, laced with desperation.

Adrenaline surged through Clarke, and she turned on her heel, sprinting away from the door. Each step felt heavy, the weight of dread pulling her down. She ducked behind a tree, hiding beneath the twisted roots as she focused on her breathing, forcing herself to remain calm. What if Niylah was hurt? What if she was in danger because of her? No. She couldn’t let herself spiral. I’m always running, always leaving. The thought clawed at her resolve. She had to confront her fear. She had to protect Niylah, no matter the cost. This self-destructive behavior had to stop.

“Clarke?”

Her heart skipped at the sound of Niylah’s voice, filled with unmistakable relief. Bursting from her hiding place, she rushed to Niylah’s side, panic subsiding as she took in the sight of her friend. But then she froze, horrified at the fresh red mark across Niylah’s cheek.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” Clarke gasped, enveloping her in a fierce hug. Niylah felt fragile in her arms, and Clarke’s heart clenched as she sensed the tremors of fear and vulnerability shake through her friend.

“I’m okay,” Niylah replied shakily, allowing herself to sink deeper into Clarke’s embrace. The warmth of their connection eased some of the tension in Clarke’s heart, and she held on tightly, determined to shield Niylah from any further pain.

“Clarke, they were looking for you. A bounty has been placed on your head. You aren't safe here,” Niylah confessed through breathy sobs.
Once Clarke felt Niylah steady in her arms, she pulled back, scanning her friend’s face for any sign of lingering distress. Niylah’s warm brown eyes held a depth of concern that made Clarke’s heart ache.

“Clarke,” Niylah began, her voice trembling slightly as she brushed her fingers against the mark on her cheek. “You need to know—they were looking for you.”
The weight of her words settled heavily in the air. Clarke felt her stomach drop. “Who? The Grounders? The Commander?”

Niylah shakes he head, her expression serious. “It was Ice Nation. They came through the camp yesterday. They were asking about you. It’s… it’s not just that. There’s a bounty on your head.”

Clarke's breath hitched, the implications of Niylah’s words crashing over her like a wave. “A bounty?” The word felt foreign, loaded with a kind of danger she thought she had escaped.

“What do you mean? Who came looking for me?”

“The Ice Nation. Everyone—they want you,” Niylah continued, her voice low and urgent. “They think killing you will bring them power. They believe that if you kill someone, you take their power. When they found out you wiped out an entire clan, they saw you as Wanheda—the Commander of Death. They’re desperate, Clarke, especially the Ice Queen. It’s not safe here anymore.”
Clarke’s heart raced as fear coursed through her veins. “So, what do we do? I can’t put you in danger because of me!” The thought of Niylah being hurt because of her felt like a blade twisting in her gut.

Niylah shook her head fiercely, determination flaring in her eyes. “You need to contact your people. It’s the only way to ensure your safety. If they know you’re in danger, they might be able to protect you. You can’t hide here, Clarke. Not anymore.”

Clarke took a step back, the weight of her friend’s words sinking in. The thought of reaching out to the people she had run from terrified her, but Niylah was right. Staying hidden would only put them both at risk. “I… I don’t know if I can face them.”

Niylah moved closer, placing a hand gently on Clarke’s cheek, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to do this alone. You have me. We can figure this out together. But you have to make that call. For both our sakes.”

In that moment, wrapped in Niylah’s warmth, Clarke felt a flicker of courage ignite within her. She knew what she had to do, even if it terrified her. She had to confront her past head-on—not just for her own sake, but for the sake of the person who had been there for her when she thought all hope was lost.

“Okay,” Clarke said, her voice steadying. “You’re right. I’ll contact them. I can’t let them find you, not like this.”

They hurried inside to where Clarke kept the radio. Luckily, it was hidden enough that the Ice Nation did not destroy it when they ransacked the trading post. Her fingers trembled as she found the compartment where the radio lay concealed. It felt like a lifeline, a bridge to the world she had fled, but now it was also a reminder of everything she was running from.

After retrieving the radio, she sat on the bed, the weight of the moment heavy in the air. Niylah joined her, placing a reassuring hand on Clarke’s thigh, grounding her in the chaos.
“Are you sure about this?” Niylah asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern.

Clarke met her gaze, feeling a tempest of emotions swirl within her. She shook her head slowly, uncertainty gnawing at her insides. Yes, she knew she had to reach out, to communicate with her mother, with Bellamy, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face everything that awaited her. The fear of what she had left behind still loomed large, but the thought of putting Niylah in danger felt like an even greater betrayal.

With a deep breath, she picked up the radio, her fingers trembling against the cool surface. Closing her eyes for a moment, she steadied herself. This was it—there was no turning back.

“Mom, it’s Clarke. I’m ready to go home.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her decision. She didn’t know what awaited her on the other side, but as she opened her eyes to meet Niylah’s steady gaze, a flicker of determination ignited within her. She was tired of running. It was time to confront her past, to face the consequences of her choices—and hopefully, to forge a path toward healing, both for herself and for those she had left behind.

Chapter Text

After arranging transportation, Clarke knew she didn’t have long before she had to leave her little oasis. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the landscape, but it did little to ease the heaviness in her heart. Turning to Niylah, she felt sadness take over her.

“Come with me,” Clarke stated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Clarke,” Niylah replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression a mixture of longing and concern. “I wish I could, but you know I need to stay and run the shop. Especially now, before winter. It’s the busiest time of year, and we need to stock up. Plus, we have that big trip to Polis next week to trade.”

“What if you only come for a couple of days, or maybe even a week? I’ll make it worth your while.” Clarke smirked, trying to lighten the mood, a teasing glint in her eyes that brought a shy smile to Niylah’s lips.

“Clarke, I don’t know. I would have to talk to my father.” Niylah’s tone was hesitant, but there was a spark of hope in her eyes.

With a small smile, Clarke nodded her head. “I know it’s a long shot, but if I can supply him with some Skaikru technology, maybe he’ll consider letting you go for a bit. He’s been hunting nonstop; I’m sure he could use a break, too.”

Niylah’s expression softened, a flicker of excitement breaking through her worries. “You really think he’d agree?”

“Let’s find out,” Clarke replied, her heart lifting at the thought of spending more time with Niylah. “In the meantime, why don’t I show you how appreciative I am for everything you’ve done for me this past month?”

Niylah laughed, a sound that warmed Clarke’s heart. Before she could respond, Clarke leaned in, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss. The world around them faded, leaving only the warmth of their connection.

—————

Later that afternoon, Niylah’s father returned from his hunting trip. Clarke had come to enjoy his presence over the past month. Though he was quiet—more so than most Grounders—he had a comforting, fatherly demeanor that made her feel accepted. He even taught her a few techniques for wood carving, which ignited a sense of nostalgia for her own father.

“Father, may I speak with you?” Niylah asked, giving Clarke a quick look for space. With a nod, Clarke stepped outside, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin—a fleeting moment of freedom.
Walking toward the river, Clarke took a deep breath, absorbing the beauty around her. The smells of earth and water mixed with the soft sounds of flowing currents and chirping birds. She let the sun wash over her, feeling invigorated as it soaked into her skin. This was her refuge.

Soon, she heard footsteps behind her.

“What’s the verdict?” Clarke asked, not wanting to turn around and face the possibility of defeat.

“It’s a go!” Niylah exclaimed, her voice bursting with excitement.

“Wait, really?” Clarke squealed, her heart racing. She rushed over to Niylah, spinning her around and showering her with kisses. Joy filled the air between them, brightening even the darkest corners of Clarke's mind.

Once the celebration subsided, they stood there, holding each other tightly. But then Niylah’s voice broke the moment. “Clarke, we should talk,” she whispered so quietly that Clarke wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

“I know. Let me just hold you a little longer,” Clarke replied, tightening her grip. She felt the urgency of their situation looming over them, but right now, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of Niylah’s presence, to forget the world outside.

After what felt like an eternity, Clarke finally pulled away, searching Niylah’s eyes. “You’re right. We need to talk.”

“Clarke, I—”

“It’s okay. I know,” Clarke said, cutting her off gently. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Niylah, I want to thank you for saving my life. I wouldn’t have survived without you, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. You’ve been my light in my darkest time, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you.”

Tears pooled in Niylah’s eyes, shimmering like the river in the sunlight. “No, thank you, Clarke. After my mother was taken, I… I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to find happiness again. But being with you has been some of the best times of my life. You’ve brought joy back into my heart.”

Clarke reached out, brushing a thumb under Niylah’s eye to catch a tear. “I wish things were different. I wish I could stay, but I can’t put you at risk.”

Niylah shook her head, her resolve firming. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. You’ve given me hope, Clarke, and I want to stand by you.”
The sincerity in Niylah’s words filled Clarke with a mixture of gratitude and fear. “What if something happens to you while I’m gone?” Clarke asked, the concern evident in her voice.
“Then we’ll deal with it. Just promise me you wont shut people out. No matter what.” Niylah’s gaze was fierce, and in that moment, Clarke felt the weight of their connection solidify.
“I promise,” Clarke whispered, knowing deep down that their bond would be tested in ways they couldn’t yet imagine.

As they stood together, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Clarke realized that whatever awaited her on the other side, she would carry a piece of Niylah with her—an anchor in the storm.

The next morning, Clarke sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the small window as dawn broke over the horizon. The light filtered in gently, illuminating the room with a warm glow, but it did little to ease the whirlwind of dread and excitement twisting in her stomach. She could hardly believe it was finally time to return. While she still didn’t feel ready to be back, there was no denying how much she missed everyone.

Clarke took a deep breath, pushing herself off the bed and getting dressed. Each moment brought her closer to facing the people she had left behind, especially Bellamy. The thought of their reunion sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine, but she also felt a spark of hope.

When the rover pulled up, the first person she saw was Bellamy.

“Bellamy!” Clarke shouted as she ran toward him, her heart racing. She threw herself into his arms, feeling a rush of warmth and familiarity.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry, I—” she began, but Bellamy interrupted.

“I know, princess. I missed you too.” He hugged her back, initially hesitating before his arms fully closed around her. The tension in his posture slowly melted away as happiness overtook him. They held onto each other for a moment longer than necessary, and Clarke felt both the joy of being back and the weight of what they still needed to address.

“Hey, no hug for me?” Raven’s teasing voice broke the moment.

Clarke pulled away, a smile creeping onto her face as she looked over at Raven. “I never pegged you for the hugging type,” she teased.

“I could say the same for you,” Raven retorted, crossing her arms with a playful smirk.

“Touche,” Clarke smiled back, wrapping her arms around Raven in a quick embrace.

“Bellamy, Raven, this is Niylah. Niylah, this is Bellamy and Raven,” Clarke introduced, her heart swelling with pride as she brought Niylah into their circle.

“Nice to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you,” Niylah said, her smile genuine and bright.

“All good things, I hope,” Raven questioned, raising an eyebrow toward Clarke.

“Alright, enough of that,” Clarke said, rolling her eyes playfully. “We better get going. We don’t have much sunlight left.” She grabbed onto Niylah’s hand as they made their way to the rover.

As they climbed inside, Bellamy’s grin was infectious. “There’s our princess,” he whispered, the warmth of his tone contrasting with the tension in the air. He hopped back into the rover, and Clarke caught a glimpse of the lingering concern in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

The ride back to Camp Jaha was bumpy. The terrain was rough, and they bounced around in their seats, but Clarke found comfort in the nervous energy radiating from Niylah, who leaned into her for protection. It made Clarke smile with pride; she felt a sense of responsibility for the girl beside her.

“So, you’re not going to tell us what you’ve been up to for a month, Blondie?” Raven questioned, breaking the silence as the landscape rushed by.

Sighing, Clarke took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Mmm, maybe one day, but not now.” The truth was, she wasn’t ready to confront the demons that had haunted her during her time away.

Taking the hint, they spent the rest of the drive making small talk, asking Niylah about herself and catching Clarke up on the latest drama back at camp. “You wouldn’t believe how much we’ve missed you,” Raven said, her tone both playful and sincere.

Before she knew it, they arrived. It was nearly 8, and the sky was beginning to darken. To say things had changed would be an understatement. The security fence around the camp seemed to have tripled in size, and bright floodlights illuminated the grounds, casting long shadows.

“Wow,” Niylah muttered next to Clarke, tightening her grip around Clarke’s arm.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” Clarke reassured her, glancing at Bellamy, who was still staring at her through the reflection of the mirror. The tension between them felt palpable, and Clarke held his gaze, a mixture of longing and apprehension swirling within her.

“You ready for this?” Raven asked, effectively drawing Clarke’s attention away from Bellamy.

Not knowing what to say, Clarke nodded quickly, her heart racing as they entered the camp.

Once safely inside the gate, reality set in. With one last squeeze of Niylah’s hand, she stepped out of the rover, and the reunion was immediate. Familiar voices filled the air, and people started to gather around them.

“Clarke!” Looking up, she saw her mom running toward her, and a wave of relief washed over her.

“Mom!” Clarke smiled, her heart swelling as she welcomed her mother’s embrace.

“I’ve missed you,” Abby said, holding onto her tightly. When they finally pulled away, Abby’s gaze shifted to Niylah. “And who might this be?”

“Mom, this is Niylah,” Clarke introduced, her voice filled with warmth.

Smiling, Abby pulled Niylah into a hug. “Thank you for protecting my little girl,” she whispered, her voice earnest and filled with gratitude. Niylah nodded, touched by the kindness.

But before Clarke could fully enjoy the moment, she heard Jasper’s voice cut through the noise. “Well, look who finally decided to show her face,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Clarke turned to face him, heart sinking at the sight of a shadow of the boy she once knew—his eyes dark and sunken, filled with a coldness that sent a chill through her.

“Jasper,” Clarke whispered, surprise lacing her voice as memories of their shared past flooded her mind.

As their eyes met, she saw anger and hurt reflected back at her. “I’m so sorry, Jasper,” she said, taking a tentative step forward, desperate to bridge the gap between them.

“No, don’t,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her. “Leave me alone.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Clarke stunned, her heart heavy with guilt.

Still stuck in the nightmare of Mount Weather, it took Clarke a moment to realize she was being talked to again until Niylah gently touched her arm, grounding her in the present. “Clarke, you okay?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

“Oh yes,” Clarke managed, though she felt dazed. “I’m fine. Just a lot to take in.”

“Let’s get you settled,” Abby said, leading them through the familiar hallways. As they walked, the artificial lights illuminated the corridor, and Clarke felt a strange mix of nostalgia and discomfort. It reminded her of life on the Ark—an environment that had once felt safe, but now felt suffocating in its familiarity.

“I wasn’t aware you would be bringing someone along, so I will send for a cot to be brought to your room,” her mother offered, her tone practical but her eyes warm.

“No, it’s alright, Mom. This full bed is plenty big enough for us to share,” Clarke replied, though she hesitated to mention that she hadn’t slept well in weeks, so it wouldn’t matter much.

“Very well. I’m sure you’re hungry, so I’ll send someone to bring you some food,” Abby said, her motherly instincts kicking in.

“That would be perfect, Mom. Thank you,” Clarke said, forcing a smile as the memories of Jasper’s harsh words and the weight of guilt threatened to drag her down again. She felt numb, the world around her shifting and swirling as she tried to regain her footing.

Before turning away, Abby stopped herself to say, “I’m just glad you’re safe, Clarke. We’ve all been worried.” Her voice was filled with a mixture of relief and lingering concern.

“Thanks, Mom. I’m glad to be back,” Clarke replied, though she felt a pit in her stomach. The moment was heavy, a reminder of everything she had been through—and everything that had changed.

As Abby stepped away to fetch food, a heavy silence settled in the small room around Clarke and Niylah. Clarke turned to Niylah, feeling a swell of gratitude mixed with anxiety. “Are you okay?” Niylah asked, her eyes searching Clarke’s face for reassurance.

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” Clarke admitted, her voice soft. Niylah’s own discomfort was palpable, and Clarke noted how her eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings. “This place is… a lot.” Niylah let out a small laugh, but it was tinged with tension.

“Yeah, it’s definitely changed,” Clarke responded, more to herself than anything, her feelings about the camp swirling within her. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the shadows of Jasper’s anger and the weight of her own guilt.

Niylah stepped closer, her hand brushing against Clarke’s in a gesture of solidarity. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m here for you. Just… take your time.”

Clarke nodded, grateful for Niylah’s patience. Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them. Abby returned, balancing a tray of food in her arms, her smile brightening the dim room. “I hope you’re both hungry. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought a bit of everything.”

“Thanks, Mom. This looks great,” Clarke said, attempting to shake off the heaviness that hung in the air. They began to eat, the chatter of their small meal providing a much-needed distraction from the emotional turmoil surrounding them.

As they finished, the weight of unspoken words pressed on Clarke’s chest. “Niylah, do you mind if I talk to Bellamy for a minute? I think we need to clear the air.”

“Of course,” Niylah replied, her tone understanding. “I’ll be waiting for you here.” She offered Clarke an encouraging smile, and Clarke felt a flicker of hope.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Clarke walked out of the room. It didn't take long to find Bellamy; he was standing just outside her door, about to knock. His stance was firm, arms crossed, and his expression was a mix of relief and lingering frustration. The moment their eyes met, the air crackled with unresolved tension.

“Clarke,” he said, his voice low but steady. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, her heart racing. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. It was—”

“Selfish?” Bellamy interrupted, his tone sharper than she expected. “You disappeared without a word. Do you have any idea how worried we were? How worried I was?”

“I do, and I’m so sorry,” Clarke said, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the gap between them. “But I had to—”

“You had to what? Leave us behind?” His voice was raw, and Clarke could see the hurt behind his anger. “We thought you were dead, Clarke. I thought I lost you.”

Her throat tightened at the pain in his eyes. “I thought I was dead too, Bellamy. I was trying to protect myself… and you. Everything was falling apart.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Clarke could see the conflict waging within him—relief that she was back, but anger that she had left in the first place.

“I don’t know how to do this again,” he finally admitted, his voice softer, almost breaking. “You can’t just leave whenever things get hard.”

“I know. I know,” she whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “But being away made me realize how much I need you. I need all of you. I just… I didn’t know if I could come back and face everyone after what I did to get everyone back.”

“What we did. I was there too. We both pulled that lever,” Bellamy said, his gaze piercing into hers. “We were all hurting in our own way, but no one else ran away. We stayed and fought. I stayed… Don’t you think that was hard on me?” His eyes were full of pain.

“It’s not just about you, Clarke. It’s about all of us. We’ve all changed. We’ve all lost things,” he said, the weight of his words sinking in.

Clarke swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of his statements. “I know, and I want to make things right. I really do, but I don’t know how.”

After a moment, Bellamy exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “None of us do. All we can do is try to move on and lean on the people around us.”

“Please, if you give me a chance, I will make it up to you. I will make it up to all of you,” Clarke promised, her voice earnest.

Bellamy nodded, his expression softening. “I’m not promising it’ll be easy, but I want to try. I can’t hold on to the anger I’ve been feeling toward you. I don't want to feel like this anymore. We’ve fought too hard to give up now. You deserve at least that.”

Relief washed over Clarke, and she stepped forward, resting her forehead against his. “Thank you. I just need time to adjust, to figure things out.”

Bellamy closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the warmth of her presence wash over him. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “But you have to promise not to shut me out again.”

“I promise,” Clarke said, her heart full. As they stood there, the weight of their past struggles felt a little lighter, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope for the future.

Chapter Text

Gasping, Clarke shot upright in bed, her heart racing.

“Hey, it’s okay, Clarke. You’re safe,” Niylah assured her, moving closer as Clarke struggled to calm her breathing.

Looking down at her watch, Clarke noticed it was 8 a.m. With a sigh, she settled back against the pillows. “Thank you,” she murmured, turning to Niylah and planting a quick kiss on her lips.

“We should probably get up and get ready,” Clarke suggested, earning a nod from Niylah.

“So what's the plan today? It is my last full day, after all,” Niylah asked, her voice a mix of excitement and melancholy.

“I definitely have some ideas,” Clarke replied, her mind racing with possibilities. “What time will your father be here tomorrow?”

“Midday. He said to meet four kilometers from the Skaikru camp,” Niylah replied, her fingers gently massaging Clarke's shoulders.

With a nod and another quick kiss, Clarke slid out of bed to dress for the day. “How are you doing with everything?” Niylah asked as she tied her shoes, concern etched across her face.

“Honestly, better than I expected, but it’s been hard. Seeing everyone makes it feel like nothing’s changed,” Clarke confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability. Niylah listened in silence, offering a comforting presence as Clarke expressed her worries. Once they were both dressed, they decided to make their way to the cafeteria while Clarke outlined her plan.

“Since it’s your last day, I want to spend as much time with you as possible. I know I need to talk to my mother, but everything else can wait. I was thinking we could head out and try to find huckleberry plants and get out of this camp. Then tomorrow, I can take you to some of our shops to get you supplies for your store before you leave,” Clarke proposed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“I love that idea,” Niylah said, a bright smile breaking across her face.

“Perfect. It’s a plan then,” Clarke replied, her heart lifting at Niylah’s excitement.

Entering the bustling cafeteria, they quickly hopped in line. Clarke felt the curious eyes of her fellow Skaikru on them but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on Niylah.

“Clarke?”

Turning around, Clarke spotted Octavia and Lincoln standing behind them in line.

“Octavia!” Clarke exclaimed, her smile widening. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Octavia replied, leaning into Lincoln, who smiled back warmly.

“I can see that,” Clarke said, smirking at the couple's obvious affection.

“Niylah, this is Octavia and Lincoln,” Clarke introduced.

“Nice to meet you both,” Niylah said politely, her smile genuine.

“So where have you been?” Octavia asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Hesitating, Clarke paused, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Lincoln stepped in to save her.

“Give the girl a break, O,” he chided gently.

Rolling her eyes, Octavia quieted down, the playful banter easing the tension.

“Next!” The kitchen staff called, and they moved forward to collect their meals.

Once Clarke and Niylah had their food, they made their way outside to enjoy the morning sun. After their meal, they headed back in to return their trays.

“Clarke?”

A sinking feeling washed over Clarke as she turned around to see Monty approaching.

“Monty!” Clarke exclaimed, her face uneasy. “I heard you were back, but I didn't believe it.”

Monty enveloped her in a big hug. “And you remember Harper,” he said, gesturing to the girl beside him.

“Of course! It’s great to see you again, Harper,” Clarke greeted, her heart warming at the familiar faces.

“Monty, Harper, this is Niylah. She’s staying here for a couple of days,” Clarke introduced.

“Nice to meet you both,” Niylah said, her charm evident.

“We were just about to find my mom. Do you know where I could find her?” Clarke asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Yes, she should be in her office by E-wing,” Monty replied, providing directions with a friendly smile.

“It was nice seeing you both, and thanks for the directions,” Clarke said as they waved goodbye.

Once down the hall, they entered E-wing, which housed the main offices for the elected officials of the Ark. Not sure where to go, Clarke started to read the names on the doors to find her mother’s office. Just as she was about to get frustrated, Abby walked out of the Chancellor's office.

“Mom,” Clarke called out, relief flooding her voice.

“Clarke.” Abby’s eyes lit up at the sight of her daughter, warmth radiating from her.

“What are you doing in the Chancellor's office?” Clarke asked, puzzled.

“I’m the Chancellor,” Abby replied, her expression matter-of-fact.

“But how… when?” Clarke questioned, disbelief coloring her tone.

“After Mount Weather, elections were held, and I was elected,” Abby explained, her pride evident.

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” Clarke asked, the gravity of the moment settling in.

“Not exactly,” Abby replied, her uncertainty creeping in.

“How about we talk in my office? Niylah, would you mind staying out here for a bit? There are some chairs if you prefer to sit,” Abby suggested, gesturing toward a nearby chair. With a nod from Clarke, Niylah took a seat, her expression one of quiet support.

As they stepped into Abby’s office, Clarke felt her hands grow clammy. She wiped them on her pants, attempting to ease her nerves. Taking a seat across from her mother, they sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

“Mom, talk to me. What is going on?” Clarke finally said, unable to contain her anxiety.

“Well, as you know, I’m Chancellor. I’ve been in office for the past month, and thanks to Kane, I’d say it’s been a fairly successful term,” Abby began, her tone earnest. “However, there are a couple of things I wanted to discuss with you. First, I missed you so much when you were gone. I thought about you every day, and I want to apologize for not being able to protect you.”

“Mom,” Clarke began, but Abby cut her off.

“No, let me finish. I never got to apologize for how I reacted after the missile hit TonDC. It wasn’t your fault, and it was unfair for me to judge you like that. As your mother, I’m supposed to protect you, but instead, I caused you pain. This past month has given me a lot of time to think, and I want you to know how sorry I am for that.”

“Mom, there’s no reason for you to be sorry. You did what you thought was right. But I will admit, what you said at TonDC really hurt,” Clarke said honestly, her heart aching.

“I missed you a lot. I’m sorry for leaving; I just couldn’t bear being around everyone and everything here. I needed to get away and clear my head,” Clarke confessed, her voice trembling.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to get away. You deserve it after everything. I’m so proud of you, and I’m grateful to have you back,” Abby said, her smile radiating warmth.
“So what else did you want to talk about?” Clarke asked, the sweetness of their moment fading as reality crept back in.

“Well, now that you’re back, I wanted to ask what kind of role you wanted to play,” Abby said, her eyes searching Clarke’s for a hint of her daughter’s intentions.

Pausing to think, Clarke drew a blank. “If I’m honest, I haven’t thought about it,” she admitted shyly. “I’ve been trying so hard to forget my past that I haven’t thought much about the future.”
“I figured as much. With time, I’m sure you’ll find your role,” Abby reassured her. “For now, just keep your head down and focus on getting better.”

“I will. Thanks, Mom,” Clarke said, standing up to make her way to the door.

“Wait, there’s one more thing,” Abby said, her tone uncertain.

Turning around to face her mom, Clarke felt her heart race. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure if I should be telling you this, so please keep it between us, but with winter fast approaching, we aren’t going to be able to provide enough food for everyone. We’re working on building our supply, but we’re still in the process of learning to hunt and grow food. With the radius set up by the Commander, we don’t have enough land to hunt as much as we need. We’ve been trying to develop nutrient plants like we had on the Ark, but that takes time that we don’t have. At the rate we’re going, we won’t survive the harsh winter,” Abby confessed, her voice filled with concern.

“What are we going to do?” Clarke asked, her mind racing with the implications.

“We have decided to try to make a deal with the Commander.”

Clarke froze at the mention of the Commander. The same Commander who had abandoned them at Mount Weather, who had caused her immense pain. The thought ignited a simmering rage within her.

“No, Mom. There has to be another way. She can’t be trusted. They can’t be trusted,” Clarke said, her voice rising with anger.

“Clarke, there is no other way. Not if we want to survive.”

Chapter Text

Lexa POV

To say she was excited was an understatement. Lexa had longed to see Clarke every day since parting ways at Mount Weather, but duty had kept her away. Now that Skaikru wanted to meet, it felt like a fragile thread of hope. Did Clarke miss her as fiercely as Lexa missed her? The thought consumed her, keeping her awake long into the night, tossing and turning as doubts and fears danced in her mind.

Knowing sleep would evade her, Lexa decided to start her day early. She laced up her boots, took a deep breath, and stepped outside, the cool dawn air invigorating her senses. As she began her run through the forests surrounding TonDC, she focused on her breathing, each inhale a reminder of the purpose that drove her—yet, all she could think about was the blonde she was racing towards.

After an hour, Lexa returned to her tent, her heart still racing, but now from more than just exertion. She had been in TonDC for a couple of weeks, helping to rebuild the once-great city. The news of the meeting had struck her like lightning, igniting a blend of excitement and trepidation. Her generals were wary; they believed it could be a trap, especially after the betrayal at Mount Weather. Lexa couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that her own trust in Clarke was as precarious as the peace they had fought so hard to achieve.

“Heda,” Indra’s voice called from outside, pulling Lexa from her thoughts. Masking her emotions, she straightened and gestured for Indra to enter.

Indra stepped in, her brow furrowed with concern. “Commander, are you sure about the Skaikru meeting? After everything, I don’t believe them to be the type to forgive.”

Lexa felt the weight of her words. “Are you questioning my decisions as Heda?” she snapped, harsher than intended. The room was heavy with silence as Indra held her gaze, unwavering.

“No, of course not. I was only advising caution. We can hold the meeting here in TonDC, where we can better protect you. Don’t risk your life going into their camp; it could be a trap,” Indra urged, her voice steady despite the tension.

Lexa softened slightly, acknowledging the validity of Indra’s concerns. “I appreciate your loyalty, but I will be fine. I trust Clarke.”

Indra’s eyes narrowed, skepticism evident. “Clarke? After what happened?”

“Enough. If that’s all, please leave. We will be departing shortly,” Lexa stated, dismissing her with a wave.

As Indra left, Lexa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She stretched her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had taken up residence there. It was a familiar ache, one she had carried for far too long.

Once dressed in her fighting gear, Lexa made her way to the training pit. The sun was fully risen now, and she felt a rare spring in her step. It was invigorating, but tinged with the anxiety of what lay ahead.

After a rigorous morning of sparring and running, Lexa felt ready to face whatever came her way. Washed and dressed in her usual Heda attire, she set off toward the Skaikru camp, her heart pounding in rhythm with the urgent whispers of her mind.

As Camp Jaha came into view, Lexa felt a strange mixture of awe and dread. The camp was a fortress, with wires surrounding it and guards stationed at every corner. Inside, the concrete structures were unlike anything she had ever seen, a stark contrast to the natural world she was used to. It was both fascinating and intimidating.

“Commander, we’re approaching,” Indra said, noticing Lexa’s hesitation. She raised her hand to halt the party, the tension palpable in the air.

Once Skaikru was aware of their presence, the gates creaked open, and Lexa’s heart quickened. As she dismounted her horse, her gaze swept over the camp, searching desperately for a glimpse of Clarke.

“Commander, what an honor it is to have you in our presence,” Abby greeted as they entered the camp, flanked by Kane. But Lexa’s focus was elsewhere.

“Where’s Clarke?” she asked, her voice firm, skipping the pleasantries.

As she scanned the area, she finally spotted Clarke in the distance. Her heart raced, but as she looked closer, Lexa's breath caught. Who was that beside her, holding her arm? A rush of jealousy ignited within her, but she quickly quelled it, forcing her expression to remain neutral.

Abby hesitated before answering, “She isn’t part of the council.”

Lexa felt a flash of indignation. “Is she not your leader?” The weight of her question hung heavy in the air, charged with unspoken tension.

“Clarke—” Abby began, but Lexa interrupted, her impatience flaring.

“Where is she?”

“Let’s head inside and discuss this matter in a more private setting,” Kane suggested, attempting to redirect Lexa’s focus.

Lexa nodded curtly, her heart sinking as she followed them into a stark, colorless room with a long table surrounded by chairs. As she stepped inside, an uncomfortable chill settled over her, the atmosphere suffocating.

Without hesitation, Lexa demanded, “Where is Clarke?” Her tone was sharper this time, laced with frustration.

“She isn’t part of the council, Commander. I am the current Chancellor,” Abby stated, her voice authoritative yet shaky.

“I was under the impression I would be meeting with Clarke, the leader of your people,” Lexa shot back, her anger bubbling beneath the surface.

Abby’s expression shifted from confusion to irritation. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Commander,” Kane interjected.

“Then why even ask me here?” Lexa pressed, her resolve hardening.

“Because we need your help,” Abby confessed, her vulnerability flickering through the facade of control.

The admission sparked a fire within Lexa. “No, you don’t need anything. Either get me Clarke, or I’m leaving,” she commanded, her frustration boiling over.

As Kane began to walk away, Abby grabbed his arm, her voice trembling with urgency. “No, she won’t be able to handle this. She just got back,” she insisted, fear edging her tone.

“Abby, we don’t have a choice,” Kane replied, his voice steady yet strained. Abby’s shoulders slumped in resignation as she finally relented.

“I’ll go. You stay with the Commander,” she agreed, her gaze heavy with concern.

Lexa’s heart raced as she settled into a chair at the head of the table, her resolve steeling as she prepared for whatever confrontation awaited her. The emptiness of the room pressed in on her, but the thought of Clarke’s presence was a lifeline, anchoring her to the moment.

Clarke was not just a leader; she was the one person who understood Lexa’s struggles, the one who could see the burden she carried. Lexa needed to hear Clarke’s voice, to gauge the depth of her feelings, and perhaps to find a way to mend the rift that had formed between them. It wasn’t just about the trade; it was about redemption and the fragile connection they still shared.
“Commander, is this necessary?” Indra questioned, her posture tense.

“Indra, if you dare question me again, I will take it as an act of treason. Do you understand?” Lexa snapped, the weight of her authority resonating in her voice.
Indra nodded, retreating to a corner, her expression one of submission.

After an eternity of silence, the door creaked open, and Abby walked in, clearly uncertain about her decision. Clarke followed closely behind, and Lexa’s breath hitched at the sight of her.
Clarke looked just as beautiful as ever, but the dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights filled with worry. Lexa felt a pang of guilt, recalling all the pain she had caused. When their eyes met, Lexa saw the storm brewing within Clarke—anger, hurt, and a myriad of emotions that had been left unresolved since their last encounter.

“Now that Clarke is present, we may begin,” Lexa stated, trying to regain control over the situation as she took her seat. Clarke’s tension was palpable, her body rigid beside Abby.
Silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Lexa felt the weight of their shared history pressing down on her, and finally, she broke the stillness.

“Why have you asked to meet with me?” she questioned, her irritation surfacing.

“Commander, our people—” Abby began, but Lexa interrupted again, her patience waning.

“No,” Lexa cut her off. “I want to hear it from Clarke.”

The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to Clarke. Lexa held her breath, waiting for the blonde to respond.

“I’m here to propose a trade,” Clarke began, her voice steady but laced with tension. “With winter fast approaching, we don’t have enough food for everyone to survive.”

“Tell me, Clarke of the Sky People, why should we make a trade with you?” Lexa replied, her tone challenging, but deep down, she felt a flicker of hope.

“Because we’re willing to trade our technology and knowledge, especially in the medical field,” Clarke said, her jaw clenched, the fire in her eyes igniting something deep within Lexa.

Lexa considered the proposal, weighing the risk against the potential benefits. But could they truly trust Clarke and her people after everything

Lexa remained silent, weighing Clarke’s proposal. Her people could undoubtedly benefit from Skaikru's advanced knowledge, but trust was a fragile currency—especially after the devastation at Mount Weather. Memories of chaos and betrayal clawed at her, twisting in her gut like a serpent.

“Why should I enter into an agreement with a clan that hates us?” Lexa finally asked, her voice steady yet cutting. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken tension.

“Why should we trust you?” Clarke shot back, her tone sharp enough to slice through the silence. The fire in her eyes was unmistakable, prompting Abby to step in, placing a calming hand on her daughter’s arm.

“Clarke, please,” Abby urged gently, her voice a soothing balm amid the brewing storm.

Lexa raised an eyebrow at Clarke’s outburst, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. Indra shifted beside her, tightening her grip on her weapon, ready to defend her commander if things escalated.

“What she means is,” Abby continued, recovering from the emotional charge of Clarke’s reaction, “while many of our people still hold animosity toward you and your clan for the abandonment at Mount Weather, we also recognize that we don’t have any other choice. They will get over it.” The statement felt like a thin veil over a deeper truth—a truth that Lexa could feel pressing in from all sides.

“And will you get over it?” Lexa asked Clarke directly, her gaze unwavering. She could see the turmoil brewing beneath Clarke's defiant exterior.

Clarke’s expression hardened, and for a moment, the air crackled with unspoken emotions. The intensity of Lexa's question pierced through the fragile walls they had built since their last encounter. Clarke’s gaze flickered up to meet Lexa’s, and in that instant, a tidal wave of sadness washed over Lexa. She knew it was an unfair question, but curiosity compelled her to confront the truth. Clarke’s eyes told her everything she needed to know: hurt, anger, and a vulnerability that sent a shiver through Lexa.

Standing up abruptly, Clarke turned away. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice strained as she excused herself from the room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving an oppressive silence in her wake.

Lexa let out a shaky breath, her heart heavy with the weight of unacknowledged feelings. She turned to Abby, who looked pale and worn, the lines of worry etched deeper into her face. It struck Lexa how much Clarke’s mother had aged in such a short time.

“I will come to a verdict in the morning,” Lexa informed them, her voice firm. “I want to spend time in your camp to see for myself if I believe an agreement can be upheld. In the meantime, please show me to my sleeping quarters,” she demanded, her mind racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead.

“Heda,” Indra began, but Lexa turned sharply, daring her to continue.

“My apologies. I’ll inform the riders of your stay,” Indra said, stepping back, her posture a mix of deference and concern.
“Please follow me, Commander,” Kane said, drawing Lexa’s attention back to him.

The room she was shown to was modest, containing only a bed, a desk, and an odd-looking wooden piece with a funny circular object next to the bed. It felt more like a cell than a guest room.

“Sorry for the room's condition. We weren't prepared for your stay. If there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please let me know,” Kane offered, his tone genuine but lacking the warmth Lexa craved.

“Very well, that will be all,” Lexa replied, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

As the door shut automatically behind him, Lexa felt a jolt of surprise. What is this place? she wondered, the high-tech surroundings both intriguing and unsettling. She sank onto the bed, letting out a heavy sigh as thoughts of Clarke invaded her mind.

Memories flooded back—the weight of her betrayal, the look in Clarke’s eyes at Mount Weather. Lexa had never anticipated the depth of regret she would feel after seeing her again. If only she had known how deeply her choices would haunt Clarke, she would have fought tooth and nail to protect her. But she had been forced to put her people first. Was that truly the right choice?
Sitting there feeling bad about herself wouldn’t change anything. Stop thinking this way and get your shit together, Lexa told herself. She began to examine the room more closely, running her hands along the smooth walls.

Entering what must be the most high-tech bathroom she had ever seen, Lexa marveled at the intricacies. Pulling a lever to flush the toilet sent waves of astonishment through her—how could something so simple feel so revolutionary? The shower, with its bewildering array of controls, captivated her attention. After a bit of trial and error, she finally managed to get the water flowing, the warm cascade washing away the lingering tension in her shoulders.

But even the comfort of warm water couldn’t drown out her thoughts. She was trapped in a cycle of guilt and yearning, desperate to find a way to bridge the chasm that had opened between her and Clarke. What if I could find a way to make it right? The idea flickered in her mind, a fragile spark in the darkness.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door, snapping her from her reverie. “Heda,” Indra called from the other side. “May I enter?”

“Yes,” Lexa replied, straightening up, preparing herself for the conversation.

Indra entered, her expression serious. “What happened during the meeting..you and Clarke.”

Lexa looked away, grappling with her own emotions. “She’s angry,” Lexa admitted. “And she has every right to be.”

Indra studied her carefully. “You cannot change the past, Commander. But you can influence the future.”

“Can I?” Lexa replied, frustration bubbling up. “How do I prove to her that I’m not the enemy? That I want to help?”

Indra stepped closer, her voice softening. “Start by being honest with her. Acknowledge the pain you caused. Show her that you’re willing to fight for her trust.”

After the initial shock Lexa nodded, absorbing Indra’s words. This type of interaction was very out of character for her general. She felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. She needed to find Clarke and lay everything on the line. She had to confront the storm brewing between them and do whatever it took to reach her.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lexa prepared herself for the challenges ahead. She was a commander, yes, but right now she was nothing more than a girl, determined to fight for the heart she had nearly lost.

Chapter Text

Clarke pov
After storming out of the meeting room, Clarke found herself wandering through the dimly lit corridors, her heart racing. Each step felt heavy, like the weight of her past was dragging her back to the gates of Mount Weather, forcing her to relive the darkest moments of her life. She tried to focus on her breathing, but the memories of betrayal and loss clawed at her insides, threatening to pull her under.

“Niylah,” she finally breathed, relief flooding her voice as she spotted the girl. Without hesitation, Clarke enveloped her in a tight embrace, clinging to her as if she were a lifeline. The warmth of Niylah’s body against hers provided a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Niylah whispered, her grip tightening around Clarke. The familiar comfort of her presence ignited a surge of tears that Clarke desperately tried to hold back. She was so tired of crying; it felt like she had emptied every well of sorrow within her over the past few days.

Niylah led her to the small bed in their shared space, where they lay down, entwined in each other’s warmth. The world outside faded away, and for a moment, Clarke allowed herself to forget the turmoil. But exhaustion soon overtook her, and she drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by nightmares that clawed at her sanity.

Later that night, Clarke woke to find Niylah still holding her, the girl’s steady breathing a soothing rhythm against her skin. Stretching her stiff limbs, she turned to meet Niylah’s gaze, feeling a mix of gratitude and fear.

“What am I going to do without you? I can barely make it through a single day without breaking down,” Clarke confessed, her voice trembling with vulnerability. The truth of her words echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of how lost she felt.

“You’re stronger than you know,” Niylah replied, offering a small smile that warmed Clarke’s heart. “You’re just going through a transition period. You’ll get back to yourself soon enough. Trust me.”

Clarke forced a smile, burying her face into Niylah's shoulder, seeking refuge from the storm brewing within her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Niylah asked gently, her voice a soft invitation.

Shaking her head, Clarke closed her eyes again, unwilling to dive back into the chaos of her thoughts. “What time is it?” she finally asked, her stomach growling in protest.

“8:23 PM,” Niylah replied proudly, glancing at Clarke's watch. The fact that Clarke had taught Niylah not only how to tell time but also how to read and write brought a flicker of joy to her heart amidst the heaviness.

Sitting up, Clarke surveyed the room, noticing a couple of trays of food waiting for them. “Your mom brought them in. She’s checked on you a few times,” she said, the thought of Niylah’s mother warming her.

As they began to eat, the moment of calm was interrupted by a knock on the door. Clarke’s breath hitched, the anxiety rising in her chest at the thought that it might be the Commander. Niylah must have noticed her reaction, as she placed a reassuring hand on Clarke's arm.

“Come in,” Clarke called, trying to steady her voice, though it trembled slightly.

The door swung open to reveal Raven, her infectious energy cutting through Clarke's tension. “Let’s go, bitches! There’s a party in the bunker near the far end of camp!” Raven announced, her excitement almost palpable.

“I don’t know, Raven. I’m not really in a party mood,” Clarke admitted, reluctance creeping into her voice.

“Oh, it wasn't a request. You’re going to the party. Both of you are,” Raven insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

True to her word, Raven waited for them to finish their nearly empty plates before dragging them out of the room, through the ship, and into the cool night air. As they walked along the trail, the distant sounds of laughter and music grew closer, but Clarke kept glancing back, half-expecting to see Lexa following her. The tension in her chest tightened further, uncertainty coiling around her like a snake.

“Clarke! Raven!” a voice called out. They found their friends gathered around a campfire, laughter ringing through the air like a balm. Clarke couldn't help but smile at the sight; their joy was infectious, a flicker of warmth against the chill of her heartache.

“Come sit,” Octavia beckoned, nestled comfortably in Lincoln’s embrace.

Clarke and Niylah took a seat next to each other, warmth from the fire wrapping around them. Monty passed them a blanket, saying, “It’s getting cold.”

“Thank you,” they both replied, wrapping it around themselves as the night settled in.

“You’ve joined us just in time. We’re about to play Truth, Dare, or Drink,” Bellamy announced, his smile a welcome sight. Despite the laughter and joy, a knot of tension still lingered within Clarke. They needed to talk about everything that had happened, but for now, she wanted to lose herself in the camaraderie of her friends.

“You’re up first, princess. Truth or Dare?” Bellamy asked, his grin widening.

“Dare,” Clarke challenged, her spirit rising slightly despite the heaviness in her heart.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest person here,” he declared.

“Boo! That’s too easy!” Everyone chimed in unison, laughter erupting around the fire. Clarke turned to Niylah and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, igniting a chorus of laughter and cheers.

“Raven, Truth or Dare?” Clarke asked next, her playful spirit momentarily pushing aside her worries.

“Mhmm, Truth,” Raven replied, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“Who’s better in bed… Finn or Bellamy?” Clarke questioned, a teasing smile gracing her lips.

“What! How do you even know about that?” Raven retorted, her face turning crimson.

“I know more than I should,” Clarke shot back, the laughter bubbling up around the fire as Raven and Bellamy turned beet red.

“Drink!” Raven exclaimed, reaching for a bottle of moonshine, and the group erupted into laughter again, Clarke’s heart lightening just a little.

As the game continued, the buzz of excitement and revealing secrets created a comforting atmosphere, laughter echoing into the night. Niylah eventually curled up against Clarke, her soft breathing calming the tempest inside her. Clarke absentmindedly played with Niylah’s hair, a sense of peace washing over her. But just as she allowed herself to relax, she spotted a familiar figure approaching from the shadows.

Her stomach dropped, and she stiffened, drawing the attention of her friends.

“Clarke, what is it?” Bellamy asked, concern etching his features.

Before she could respond, Lexa stood before them, a silent force. Without a word, she took a seat on an open section of the log, drawing the group’s gaze. Clarke couldn’t help but stare, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment that sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through her. The group exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of how to proceed.

Niylah stirred in Clarke's lap, pulling her back from the depths of her spiraling thoughts.

“Can we head to bed?” Niylah asked sleepily, her voice a soft plea.

“Of course,” Clarke replied, her heart aching with the thought of leaving the warmth of her friends behind. She helped Niylah sit up, quickly glancing back at Lexa, only to meet a tight, cold stare. Is Lexa seriously angry with her? Frustration flared within Clarke, and she rolled her eyes, turning her focus back to Niylah.

“Let’s go,” Clarke said, helping Niylah to her feet. As they stood, Niylah noticed Lexa, her expression shifting to one of respect.

“Heda,” she said, bowing her head.

Clarke watched as Lexa ignored the gesture, her bitterness seeping through Clarke's veins. Of course, she acts like a total prick, Clarke thought bitterly, her heart hardening.

“Clarke, may I speak to you in private?” Lexa asked, her voice steady.

“No,” Clarke replied simply, resolute, before walking off with Niylah. She could sense Lexa’s frustration trailing behind her, but Bellamy intervened, creating a barrier between them as Clarke walked away, her heart racing.

Once Niylah was settled in bed, Clarke didn’t know what to do with herself. The last remnants of exhaustion slipped away, leaving her restless. She sat at the desk, the sketchbook beckoning her. She had forgotten how much drawing relaxed her, how it allowed her to escape, even if just for a moment.

With her hands covered in charcoal and a fresh drawing taking shape on the page, Clarke made her way back to the bed. She still wasn’t tired, but this was her last night with Niylah, and she wanted to savor every moment. Laying down next to the girl, she watched her sleep, a peaceful expression on her face that reminded Clarke of the innocence she was fighting to protect.

Still with her eyes closed, Niylah teased, “You know it’s not polite to stare,” pulling Clarke from her reverie. A smile crept onto Clarke’s face as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Niylah’s ear.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Clarke said gently, her voice soft.

Scrunching her face, Niylah shrugs. “So are you.”

Sighing, Clarke laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, which reminded her unsettlingly of the cold metal of the Ark. She could feel the weight of the past pressing down on her, and once Niylah drifted into a deep sleep, Clarke quietly exited the small room, drawn to the familiar cold surface outside that always seemed to center her amidst chaos.

Tonight was darker than usual, the shadows looming like the ghosts of her memories. She took extra precautions as she walked to her usual spot, each step heavy with the weight of her thoughts. It wasn’t long before she heard someone approaching from behind.

“Clarke,” came the voice, causing her breath to hitch. Lexa… The name alone sent a surge of mixed emotions through her, and she remained seated, tension coiling in her stomach as the Commander drew closer. Without a word, Lexa took a seat next to her, the space between them thick with unspoken history.

After a long pause, Lexa finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Clarke,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The quiet sincerity of Lexa's apology sent a gut-wrenching pain through Clarke. Those words, so simple yet so laden with complexity, only fueled her anger. Tightening her jaw, she fought against the urge to get up and walk away, every fiber of her being screaming for escape. She refused to give Lexa that kind of power.

“Can you look at me?” Lexa urged, extending her hand toward Clarke. The motion caused Clarke to flinch away instinctively, and Lexa quickly retracted her hand, the hurt evident in her eyes.

“I can’t,” Clarke admitted, her voice trembling with the effort it took to maintain her composure.

“Why?” Lexa pressed, her voice a mixture of desperation and concern.

“Because every time I look at you or even think of you, I feel more pain and anger than I can handle,” Clarke confessed, her chest tightening as she struggled to articulate the depth of her feelings. It wasn’t just pain; it was the betrayal, the anguish of trust shattered. Lexa had blindsided her, cutting deep enough that she feared she’d never fully recover.

Lexa fell silent, letting Clarke’s words hang heavy in the air.

“I…” Lexa began, but Clarke cut her off, her emotions boiling over.

“I trusted you, Commander,” she said, her voice quaking as a shaky breath escaped her lips.
“You not only betrayed me but you left when I needed you the most. How could you do that?”

“It was the right thing to do for my people,” Lexa replied, her tone calm yet firm, as if trying to convince herself as much as Clarke. “It’s what had to be done. I know that if the roles were reversed, you would do the same.”

“How dare you even say that?” Clarke retorted, her voice rising in indignation. “We are nothing alike. I don’t betray my friends like that.”

“Are we… were we?” Lexa questioned, the pain in her eyes mirrored in Clarke’s heart. The words lingered, creating a chasm of unresolved feelings between them.

“Whatever we were doesn’t matter now,” Clarke replied, annoyance creeping into her tone, the bitterness biting at her insides.

“We are more alike than you think, Clarke,” Lexa said, her eyes searching Clarke’s for some glimmer of understanding. “I never meant to hurt you, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Clarke scoffed, disbelief flooding her senses. “Yeah, I bet you are,” she shot back, bitterness lacing her words, masking the flicker of hurt that threatened to break through her defenses.

“It’s true,” Lexa insisted, her voice pleading. Clarke could see the sincerity in her eyes, mixed with a deep sorrow that reflected her own inner turmoil.

“I know, Commander, but that doesn’t change what happened,” Clarke replied, her voice softening but still laden with pain. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be heading to bed.”

Before she could get up, Lexa gently grabbed her arm, a touch that was both tender and firm, compelling her to stay. The connection sparked an unwanted warmth in Clarke, but she fought it, anger boiling beneath the surface. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, seeing the slight hurt behind them.

“One last thing before you go,” Lexa requested, her voice shaky.

Clarke gave her a slight nod, her heart racing in anticipation.

“Why do you insist on calling me by my title as Commander and not by my name? We are in private after all,” Lexa asked hesitantly. It was the first time Clarke had seen Lexa uncertain, and while it pained her, it also ignited a flicker of satisfaction; Lexa was affected by this, by her.

“Because that’s all I see you as now—a cold, hard Commander who only cares about her people,” Clarke spat out, watching as Lexa shrank slightly at her words, the weight of their shared history settling heavily around them.

“I don’t believe you,” Lexa countered, her voice shaky but resolute, trying to regain her composure.

Scoffing, Clarke locked eyes with Lexa, the air crackling between them before she delivered three forbidden words: “I hate you.”

“Clarke,” Lexa began, but Clarke interrupted, frustration boiling over.

“I hate you. All I can feel for you is hate,” Clarke practically shouted, her emotions spilling out like a torrent. The rawness of her words filled the space between them, heavy with unresolved hurt. When Lexa didn’t yell back, Clarke’s anger deepened, morphing into something more chaotic.

“Yell back! Say something!” Clarke urged, pushing Lexa back slightly, desperate for some reaction. The look of shock on Lexa’s face was intermingled with something else—hurt, longing, maybe even regret.

And then, without warning, Lexa pulled Clarke into a heated kiss, catching her completely off guard. The warmth of Lexa’s lips against hers ignited a wave of conflicting emotions—pleasure, anger, desperation—everything crashing together in that one heated moment. Clarke found herself falling into Lexa’s touch, her body responding before her mind could catch up.

It took longer than she would have liked to pull back from Lexa's warm lips. Staring into Lexa’s eyes, she saw a spectrum of emotions swirling—sorrow, desire, vulnerability—each one echoing the turmoil in her own heart.

“I hate you,” Clarke reiterated, her voice quieter now, yet laden with a weight that felt impossibly heavy.

“I know,” Lexa replied, her voice barely a whisper, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.

This time, it was Clarke who initiated the kiss, the need for connection overpowering her lingering anger. It was not as long as either of them would like, but they both understood the complexities of their feelings were too tangled for anything more in that moment.

With a deep breath, Clarke finally turned away, walking back into the shadows, leaving a teary-eyed Lexa behind. This was not how she had envisioned her night unfolding.

As she made her way back to the small room, her heart raced, filled with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, betrayal, and an undeniable connection twisted inside her, creating a chaotic storm she couldn’t escape.

When she finally settled back into bed next to Niylah, sleep eluded her. Instead, she lay staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in her mind—of Lexa, of their kiss, of the painful choices that had driven them apart.

The night stretched on, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, each moment weighing down on her heart as she wrestled with the impossible mix of love and hatred that had become their reality.

Chapter Text

Clarke pov

By the next morning, Clarke was utterly exhausted. The combination of restless sleep, a gnawing sense of directionlessness, and the looming reality of Niylah's departure made her feel like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. To say Clarke was on edge was an understatement; it felt like every nerve in her body was frayed.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Niylah said, her cheerful voice breaking through Clarke’s spiraling thoughts.

“Morning. How did you sleep?” Clarke replied, pulling Niylah in for a soft kiss, hoping to chase away the remnants of the previous night’s turmoil.

“I would have slept better with you next to me the whole night, but I lived,” Niylah said, her smile warm and bright, lighting up the dim room.

“Well, I’m very glad you lived,” Clarke said, a hint of playfulness returning to her tone.

“Are you ready to get up?” Niylah asked, cuddling closer, her breath warm against Clarke’s skin.

“Since it’s your last day, I was hoping we could spend the morning not getting up,” Clarke suggested, grinning mischievously.

“I could definitely get behind that idea,” Niylah replied, pulling Clarke into a deep kiss that made her heart flutter. As their lips met, Clarke was momentarily lost in the warmth of the moment, but it quickly drew her mind back to the chaotic events of the night before with Lexa. Was that kiss real? The exhaustion clouding her mind made her question her own memories, wondering if she had conjured it all in a delirious haze.

Seemingly sensing Clarke’s distraction, Niylah pulled back, concern creasing her brow. “Everything alright?”

Not wanting to share the tumult of her thoughts with the girl she was about to spend the day with, Clarke brushed off the question. “Everything’s perfect. I’m just going to miss you and that perfect mouth of yours,” she added, playfully shaking Niylah’s chin, her affection genuine. And it was true; Clarke felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Niylah leaving. Since Wells, no one had gotten this close to her heart.

Satisfied with Clarke’s answer, Niylah resumed their earlier intimacy, and the couple lost themselves in each other for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that they finally emerged from the room, their time together far too brief before needing to meet Niylah’s father.

“Let’s get some food, then we’ll head over to the shops to get you some supplies,” Clarke suggested, a smile spreading across her face as Niylah squeezed her hand.

Hand in hand, they entered the cafeteria, the scent of breakfast wafting through the air.

“While you Sky people have a lot of cool technology, you really don’t have good food,” Niylah commented, bringing a forkful of unappetizing mush to her lips.

“I can definitely agree with you on that,” Clarke said, trying not to grimace.

“You know, on the Ark we didn’t have things like spices. It took too much oxygen and resources. We could only focus on things that were absolutely necessary, not luxuries.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Niylah murmured, forcing down another bite, the texture less than appealing.

After an uneventful breakfast, the pair made their way to the shop. As soon as they entered, Niylah’s eyes widened with wonder at the assortment of trinkets and devices that surrounded her.

“I don’t know what half of this stuff is, but it’s so cool!” Niylah squealed, her excitement infectious.

“I’m glad you find it interesting,” Clarke replied, her heart swelling with affection for Niylah’s unfiltered joy.

“Hey, Clarke! Niylah!” Raven greeted them from behind the counter, her voice bright and welcoming.

“Hey, Raven,” Clarke replied with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” Raven asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Well, I wanted to show Niylah around and get her hooked up with some tech before she leaves today,” Clarke explained, feeling a mix of pride and protectiveness.

“Well, you definitely came to the right place,” Raven said enthusiastically, practically dragging Niylah around the shop, showing her various gadgets and filling her bag to the brim.

Clarke followed behind, a feeling of helplessness creeping in as she watched their interactions. Despite the excitement in front of her, her mind drifted back to Lexa. The unexpected kiss from the night before lingered in her thoughts, stirring a chaotic mix of emotions—excitement, anger, confusion. The anger was something she couldn’t shake, a shadow that darkened her heart.

As if the universe were listening to her inner turmoil, Abby, Kane, Lexa, and Indra entered the room, calling out for Raven and instantly drawing attention. Clarke’s gaze locked onto Lexa’s. While not as soft as it had been last night, Lexa’s eyes held a flicker of reassurance that made Clarke’s heart race. But just as quickly, the commander’s expression shifted to one of authority, a mask that shielded her emotions.

Clarke noticed a flash of jealousy cross Lexa’s face as she regarded Niylah standing beside her. It brought an unexpected smirk to Clarke’s lips. Who knew the Commander could be so human, so affected—this was only after a brief kiss.

“Clarke, you ready to go?” Niylah asked, pulling Clarke from her thoughts.

“Let’s do this,” Clarke replied, taking Niylah’s hand and leading her toward the exit.

Before they could leave, Niylah paused to greet Lexa. “Heda,” she said, bowing her head in respect, a gesture Clarke felt uneasy about.

“Clarke,” Abby said, surprise lighting up her features as she realized her daughter was present.

“Mom,” Clarke responded, the weight of their previous conversation still lingering in the air. Despite the reconciliation, resentment simmered just beneath the surface—her mother’s reaction after the massacre at TonDC had cut deep.

“We’re giving the Commander a tour of all the tech and medicine we have to offer, showing her the medical wing and our now tech shop,” Abby explained, her tone professional.

“I should get out of your hair then,” Clarke said, attempting to slip away from the gathering.

“Out of your hair?” Lexa questioned, a note of confusion in her voice.

“Oh, it’s just an expression,” Clarke replied, trying not to laugh at the Commander’s literal interpretation.

Sensing her amusement, Lexa tensed slightly, a hint of irritation flashing in her eyes. Taking this as a dismissal, Clarke continued toward the door before Lexa’s voice followed them. “Stay and finish the tour,” she offered, a command masked as an invitation.

“As much as I would love to, I have other matters to attend to. But I’m sure the Chancellor and Kane will take great care of you, Commander,” Clarke replied, her tone firm yet laced with regret as she finally turned to exit.

Lexa felt a pang of hurt at Clarke's response, a feeling unfamiliar to her. Not only was she unaccustomed to being turned down, but it stung even more coming from the one person whose opinion mattered the most.

Once Clarke and Niylah made it out the gates of Camp Jaha, a heaviness settled over them, both knowing what was about to come but reluctant to address it. The path was quiet, and Clarke tried to focus on her surroundings, the distant sounds of camp life a stark contrast to her swirling thoughts.

As they approached a clearing, Clarke hesitated, her heart racing. Now was the time to say goodbye.

“I want to thank you again for everything you’ve done for me,” Clarke began, her voice thick with emotion. “You are one of the most amazing people I know, and I’ve loved getting to know you this last month. You truly saved my life, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. I only wish this wasn’t goodbye, but I know we will meet again,” she expressed, her heart heavy with the weight of her words.

“Oh, my sweet Clarke. You are the one who saved me. After my mother was taken, I never thought I would recover, but since meeting you, it’s as if I’ve found my love for life again. I will forever cherish the moments we spent together. One day, you’ll realize how special you truly are,” Niylah assured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

They embraced in a long, heartfelt hug, savoring every last moment they had together before reluctantly pulling away. Clarke kissed Niylah’s forehead, a silent wish for her safety, before they began to move slowly apart.

After a few minutes, they spotted Niylah’s father waiting a short distance ahead. As they approached, they turned to say their final goodbyes.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” Clarke said, pulling Niylah into one last hug. Niylah nodded, her expression resolute yet pained, not wanting to prolong the farewell.

“Goodbye, Clarke,” Niylah said one last time before turning to meet her father. Clarke watched as they walked away, feeling the weight of their separation sink in. She was left standing alone, a hollow ache settling in her chest.

Halfway back, Clarke heard the rumble of a rover approaching. That’s odd, she thought, a sense of unease creeping over her. Why would the rover be out right now?

The vehicle came to a stop beside her, and the door swung open. “Clarke, the Chancellor has requests your presence,” one of the guards said, urgency in his tone.

With a quick nod, she climbed into the vehicle, her heart sinking. Just like that, she was thrown back into the chaotic world she had wished to leave behind only moments ago. The familiar interior of the rover felt suffocating, a drastic change to the open air she had just enjoyed with Niylah.

As they sped through forest, the landscape whizzed by, but all Clarke could focus on was the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. She thought of Niylah—how easy it had been to smile, to laugh, to feel free. Now, she was thrown back into the chaos of everything.

Chapter Text

Lexa pov

After the kiss, Lexa stood rooted to the spot, watching Clarke walk away, her heart heavy in her chest. This was not how she had envisioned her night unfolding. She had longed for this moment—the warmth of Clarke's lips against hers, the spark of connection—but instead of joy, she felt the bitter sting of loss. The warmth of their brief encounter clashed painfully with the reality that Clarke hated her. Hated everything about her. Anger simmered within Lexa, directed at Clarke for being upset, but deep down, that anger masked a deeper hurt. It hurt more than she could ever admit.

As she made her way back to her room, sleep eluded her. Tossing and turning, she finally drifted off, only to be haunted by her biggest regret: walking away from Clarke at Mount Weather. In her dreams, she screamed at herself, reliving that moment over and over, watching her own back as she turned away from a broken Clarke, the pain in her eyes cutting deeper than any sword.
When Lexa finally woke, confusion washed over her. The room was still dark, and she struggled to gauge the time of day. Turning over, she attempted to rest her eyes again, but the weight of her thoughts propelled her to sit up. With a resigned sigh, she willed herself out of bed.

Exiting her room, she was met by the guards stationed outside her door. “What time of day is it?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Late morning,” the guard on the right replied, his gaze unwavering from his post.

Of course, she had slept in. Frustration bubbled within her. How could she waste so much of her day? Retreating to her room, she prepared for the day with a sense of urgency.
When Lexa stepped outside, the sun blazed overhead, illuminating just how much time she had squandered. Still feeling the weight of her thoughts, she approached Indra, who was in the midst of a training session with a Sky girl named Octavia. Lexa’s gaze scanned the area, searching for any sign of Clarke but finding none.

“Morning, Indra,” Lexa greeted, her voice steady.

“Commander,” Indra replied, bowing her head in respect.

“Mind if I join you?” Lexa asked, eyeing the Sky girl who had been around Clarke the night before.

“Of course, Heda.”

“Sky girl, what is your name?” Lexa commanded, directing her attention toward Octavia.

“Octavia,” the girl replied proudly, offering a respectful bow. Lexa was surprised by her formality, especially given how the Sky people often regarded her with disdain.

After a quick sparring match, Lexa was impressed by Octavia's resilience. Despite only training for a few months, she had developed into a fine warrior.

“You make your leader proud,” Lexa commented after the match.

For a moment, Octavia looked confused. “Clarke?” she asked, tilting her head.
Lexa nodded, feeling a sense of confusion swell within her.

“Thank you,” Octavia replied, though Lexa could see the girl was on the verge of saying something else.

“Speak your mind,” Lexa commanded, irritation creeping into her tone.

Hesitating, Octavia seemed torn, and Indra stepped in, ready to scold the girl for her reluctance to obey the Commander’s order.

“Clarke is not my leader, nor do I fight for her—especially after TonDC.”

Fury surged through Lexa at the disrespect and the mention of TonDC. “Enough!” she shouted, drawing her sword and pressing it against Octavia’s neck.

“You are Clarke’s warrior, and she is your leader. I will not stand by while you disrespect her. You are fortunate to be under her protection; otherwise, I would have your head,” Lexa threatened, watching fear flash in Octavia’s eyes. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice so only Octavia could hear. “About TonDC—she doesn’t owe you an explanation. Clarke saved your life. If it weren’t for her, you would be dead. She risked everything to save you, and you don’t even see that. I will not tolerate another word about her not being your leader. Do you understand me?”
Lexa held Octavia's gaze, watching as fear transformed into understanding and, ultimately, shock. Stepping back and releasing her hold, Lexa turned to Indra.

“Thank you for practice this morning, but I must be going,” Lexa said, dismissing herself from the group.

After an invigorating shower, Lexa exited her room to find Abby and Kane waiting. They had stopped by earlier to offer her a tour of the facilities. While it still wasn't Clarke, a flutter of excitement coursed through her at the prospect of the technology. Almost all her knowledge of technology came from books or what had been exposed by the Mountain Men. It was time for her people to change their ways—at least some of them. Lexa wanted to advance medical practices; too many died from treatable injuries simply due to a lack of knowledge.

As she entered the command center, disappointment settled in her gut at Clarke’s absence. Deep down, she knew the blonde wouldn’t be there, especially after last night, but she still clung to a flicker of hope that Clarke might show up. “Is Clarke coming?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“No, I’m sorry, Commander. She isn't able to attend this morning,” Abby replied, her tone sympathetic.

Surprisingly, Lexa nodded, swallowing the hurt. As much as she wanted Clarke there, she didn’t want to force the girl into her presence. The pain inflicted was larger than she had imagined, and she wanted to give Clarke whatever little pleasure she could.

“Shall we start the tour?” Kane offered, attempting to shift the topic.

“Yes, let’s begin,” Lexa requested, eager to divert her thoughts.

They led her through the medical wing first, explaining their resources. It was all fascinating, and Lexa found herself asking numerous questions. The facilities were more advanced than she had imagined, and excitement bubbled within her. She had always been deemed a visionary, a quality that allowed her to unite the clans into the coalition. But right now, Lexa envisioned a vast medical facility where all her healers could train, gaining not only the knowledge of Skaikru but also access to their resources. It would change everything; most importantly, it would save lives.
While all this information was invigorating, she couldn’t shake thoughts of a certain blonde. Part of her was impatient, waiting for the moment she would see Clarke again.

After the tour of the medical wing, they made their way to the tech shop. Upon entering, Lexa’s eyes immediately spotted Clarke. Seeing her sent her heart racing as memories of their kiss flooded back. She could almost swear she could still feel Clarke's lips on hers. But as she assessed the situation, her heart sank—Clarke and Niylah stood side by side, sharing laughter. A flare of jealousy ignited within her, twisting like a knife in her gut. The sight of them together felt like a betrayal, and she hated that feeling even more.

Just then, Clarke looked up and met Lexa’s gaze. In an instant, Lexa felt herself relax into Clarke's eyes, but she still clung to her Commander’s mask, attempting to hide the jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. As they exchanged glances, Lexa noticed a small smirk appear on Clarke's face, so brief she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. But deep down, Lexa knew Clarke saw through her façade and picked up on the jealousy she struggled to contain. While that realization annoyed her, it also sparked a flicker of satisfaction; at least she was able to elicit some emotion from Clarke.

“Clarke, you ready to go?” Niylah asked, breaking the moment and causing Clarke to look away.

“Let’s do this,” Clarke replied, taking Niylah’s hand, which sent another pang of hurt shooting through Lexa.

Lexa, what is going on with you? she questioned herself. Stop acting so childish and get control of yourself. As Clarke and Niylah were about to leave, Niylah paused to greet her.

“Heda,” she said, bowing her head in respect. Lexa noticed Clarke's discomfort with the gesture, which gave her a small amount of satisfaction. Unable to muster a smile, Lexa simply nodded in acknowledgment.

“Clarke,” Abby said, surprising Lexa. Had she really not noticed her daughter until this moment? How could these Sky people be so oblivious to their surroundings?
“Mom,” Clarke responded, her tone somewhat curt, deviating from Sky culture's expected warmth.

“We’re giving the Commander a tour of all the tech and medicine we have to offer, showing her the medical wing and our tech shop,” Abby explained to her daughter.
“I should get out of your hair then,” Clarke said, addressing the group but maintaining eye contact with Lexa.

“Out of your hair?” Lexa questioned, confused. Clarke’s hair looked fine—dare she say gorgeous. Oh, how she wished she could run her fingers through those beautiful golden locks.
“Oh, it’s just an expression,” Clarke replied, a laugh forming at the corner of her lips. Great, now I’ve made a fool of myself, Lexa thought, berating herself.

“Stay and finish the tour,” Lexa said, her voice more hopeful than she felt. She knew it was a long shot, but the desire to be near Clarke outweighed her worries about the pain of watching her interact with Niylah. Even the thought of enduring that torture felt worth it just to have a few more moments in Clarke’s presence.

“As much as I would love to, I have other matters to attend to,” Clarke replied, her voice tinged with regret that twisted in Lexa’s chest like a blade. “But I’m sure the Chancellor and Kane will take great care of you, Commander.”

As Clarke turned to leave, a wave of anger and hurt surged within Lexa. Rejection was a feeling she struggled to confront, especially from someone she cared for so deeply. The thought that Clarke had more pressing concerns than their trade discussions stung—what could possibly be more important? Jealousy flared as she watched Niylah closely follow Clarke, a shadow at her side.
The rest of the tour felt like a blur. The fascinating technology and advanced medical practices of the Ark became a distant backdrop, overshadowed by her spiraling thoughts of Clarke. What was happening to her? This felt like the kind of infatuation she had read about in stories—an intoxicating mix of longing and fear.

“Thank you for the tour. Abby, may I speak to you in private?” Lexa asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her.

Abby blinked, surprised by the request. “Of course, Commander. Let me show you to my office.”

As Abby led her through the sterile hallways of the Ark, Lexa took in the stark, monochrome decor. The lack of color felt suffocating—a far cry from the vibrant life of her own people. A pang of sadness struck her; this place seemed devoid of warmth, a cold contrast to the fierce loyalty and spirit of her clans.

Upon entering Abby's office, Lexa’s gaze was drawn to a framed photo on the desk. It featured Abby, a younger Clarke, and a man she presumed was Clarke’s father. In that snapshot, Clarke radiated happiness, a carefree smile that Lexa had never seen in their own encounters. For a brief moment, she longed to see that version of Clarke again, unburdened by the weight of their complicated history.

Lexa snapped back to the present when Abby cleared her throat, pulling her out of her reverie. Straightening her posture, she focused. “What did you need to speak to me about?” Abby asked, her tone professional but tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Lexa began, the flutter of nerves catching her off guard. She hesitated, nearly voicing Clarke's name but forcing herself to stay on course. “I wanted to discuss the possibility of creating a medical training center. I’ve been very impressed with your facilities and the knowledge your people possess. You are the most advanced in the land, and I believe my people could learn a lot from you.”

Abby regarded her with a mix of interest and caution. “That’s a wonderful idea, Commander, but I have my doubts.”

“Your people don’t seem to take kindly to us, and introducing new technology may push them out of their comfort zone. You are very traditional, so getting them to support this might be a significant challenge,” Abby pointed out, her brow furrowed in concern.

Lexa nodded, acknowledging the truth in Abby’s words. “I agree. My people are wary of outsiders, especially those who remind them of past enemies—enemies your people defeated in less than a year,” she confessed, her voice thick with the weight of history.

“I have an idea regarding that aspect,” Abby continued, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “What I want to know is if this is something you’re truly committed to and if it’s feasible.”

After a moment of silence, Abby continued, “It’s possible, but I fear you may not like my answer.” Lexa leaned forward, her heart racing in anticipation.

“Mount Weather,” Abby stated, a hint of apprehension creeping into her voice.

“What about it?” Lexa asked, her mind racing with implications.

“We would need to use Mount Weather. They have the supplies and space necessary to train and support both our peoples.”

Lexa took a moment to digest this revelation. It made sense—the mountain men had relied on advanced medical technology to survive. Now that Mount Weather was abandoned, it could serve as an ideal location for their collaborative efforts. Yet, the idea of convincing her people to trust Skaikru, to embrace technology that contradicted their traditions in a place that had caused them so much pain, was daunting.

She felt the enormity of the task ahead pressing down on her. This wouldn’t be easy. But knowing Clarke could be by her side offered a flicker of hope—if she would agree to it.
“I’ve come to a decision,” Lexa said abruptly, her resolve hardening. “I must speak to Clarke in private before discussing any further.”

“Lexa, Clarke isn’t at camp right now,” Abby informed her, the words striking Lexa like a physical blow.

Her color drained. “What? How could you let Clarke out of this camp with a bounty on her head?” Lexa’s voice rose, anger boiling over.
Abby froze, her eyes wide. “There’s a bounty on Clarke’s head?” she asked, confusion lacing her tone.

“You didn’t know?” Lexa replied, her voice softening, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You really didn’t know?”

Abby shook her head, horror dawning on her features. “That must be why she only returned to camp yesterday. She had a protection team with her and should be back shortly. She’s a stubborn girl.”

Lexa could agree with that assessment, but it didn’t ease her anxiety. “That’s not good enough. You need to send out for her right now. If any of the surrounding clan leaders get hold of Clarke, she will be killed for her power of Waheda.” The threat loomed larger in her mind, urgency coursing through her veins.

“I will send the rover out immediately,” Abby replied, already reaching for her radio.

As Abby communicated with the patrol, Lexa’s anxiety heightened. Why was she reacting this way? She had faced countless high-stakes situations, yet the thought of Clarke in danger felt like a weight crushing her chest. Unable to stay in Abby’s office any longer, she abruptly excused herself.

“I will wait for her return.” With those words, she stepped out, her mind racing with worries about Clarke’s safety and the impending dangers that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

As Clarke entered Camp Jaha, a familiar yet unsettling atmosphere washed over her. The air was thick with tension, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. She spotted her mother by the gate, anxiety etched deeply on her face. The sight made Clarke's heart clench painfully. Hopping out of the rover, she rushed over to her mother, who looked as if she might burst with worry.

“Mom, is everything okay?” Clarke asked, her voice trembling slightly with concern.

Without answering, Abby enveloped her in a tight embrace, one that spoke of sleepless nights and relentless worry. Clarke could feel her mother’s heart racing, mirroring her own.

“Clarke, what were you thinking, leaving camp knowing there’s a bounty on your head?” her mother scolded, the anxiety that had clouded her features now replaced by a fierce protectiveness.

“Mom, I’m fine. I had a protection detail,” Clarke insisted, trying to soothe her mother’s evident anger. She wanted to reassure her, but the tension still coiled in the air like a taut wire.

“Okay, but no more leaving camp,” Abby replied firmly, her voice laced with authority. Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but she could see the determination in her mother’s eyes. It was a lost cause.

“Is this why you needed me back at camp?” Clarke questioned, seeking clarity.

Abby shook her head. “No, the Commander has made a decision and requested to speak to you about the matter personally,” she informed Clarke, a hint of concern flickering in her gaze. Abby was still uncertain if Clarke was strong enough to face the weight of responsibility after her month-long absence.

“Of course,” Clarke replied, rolling her eyes in frustration. When had Lexa ever not gotten her way? Stubbornness was a trait Clarke recognized all too well as she made her way to Lexa’s quarters.

As she entered the room, a heavy atmosphere struck her. The walls felt as if they were closing in, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air. Lexa appeared to have been pacing, her boots echoing softly on the floor as she turned to face Clarke. When had the Commander ever paced? Was she worried about her? The thought flickered through Clarke’s mind like a candle's flame.
Their eyes locked, and Clarke noticed the worry in Lexa’s gaze dissipate, replaced by a flicker of anger. It stung. Can she not catch a break? First her mom, and now Lexa—the Commander who had abandoned her was now suddenly concerned. Anger surged within Clarke at the hypocrisy of it all.

“You wanted to see me?” Clarke said through gritted teeth, the tension palpable. Surprise flickered across Lexa’s face, as if she were unprepared for Clarke's fiery tone. Did she think one conversation and a kiss could mend everything that had been broken between them?

Shaking off her surprise, Lexa squared her shoulders. “Yes, I’ve come to a decision regarding your trade.” Lexa’s voice was steady, but Clarke could sense the underlying tension. Why not announce this in front of everyone?

Lexa paused, her expression grave. Clarke’s heart raced. She could feel the air thickening, each second stretching longer than the last. Finally, Lexa continued, her tone carefully measured. “The answer is no, Clarke.”

“What? Why?” Clarke’s voice rose, disbelief and fury intertwining. Is Lexa serious right now? Not only had she left Clarke and her people to die once, but now she was going to do it again.

“Now, before you react, hear me out,” Lexa implored, raising her hands in a placating gesture.

“My people would never support such a trade. Even if I wanted to, they wouldn’t allow it,” Lexa confessed, her voice low and pained.

Hearing this only fueled Clarke’s rage. How could Lexa do this to her again? Clarke felt foolish for having ever trusted her.

“Why even entertain the idea then if you knew your people would be against it?” Clarke questioned, frustration spilling over.

“I wanted to see for myself how you live and whether I believe we can coexist. My people crave security. An unknown enemy on our land, equipped with technology similar to the Mountain Men, terrifies them,” Lexa explained, her eyes searching Clarke's for understanding.

“Did you seriously come to see if we were a threat to you and your people?” Clarke accused, her anger flaring anew.

“No,” Lexa replied sharply, cutting through Clarke’s fury. “I want to offer Skaikru the chance to become the Thirteenth Clan.” The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves through Clarke. Did Lexa honestly believe this was a possibility? No one here trusted her.

“Join me,” Lexa urged, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, almost pleading. “Bow before me, and your people will be safe. It’s the only way I can protect you.”

“Bow before you?” Clarke retorted, her anger boiling over. How dare she speak of protecting them when she had turned her back on them before?

“You know when I could have used protection?” Clarke stepped closer, invading Lexa’s personal space. “When you abandoned us outside the gates of Mount Weather,” she snapped, her voice fierce and unyielding.

“I did what I had to do for my people,” Lexa tried to explain, but her words fell flat against Clarke’s fury.

“You keep saying you did what was best for your people, but you know that’s not true. They may have let your people go, but after they harvested my people’s bone marrow, they would have destroyed you. Do you honestly think they would have been happy coexisting with yours? Would your people have shared their land?” Clarke pressed, her voice rising.

“We could have defeated the Mountain Men together. But instead, you took the easy way out,” Clarke spat, bitterness coating her words.

“Clearly, you didn’t need my help,” Lexa said, her tone heavy with resignation.

“Clearly,” Clarke replied, the distance between them now an insurmountable chasm.

“I’m trying to help you now, Clarke. You aren't safe. If you fall into the hands of the Ice Queen and she takes the power of Wanheda, war will break out. It will give her enough leverage to dismantle the coalition. War is brewing, Clarke,” Lexa admitted, her expression grave. In normal circumstances, she would never confess to the fragility of the coalition, but she trusted Clarke.
“So that’s why you’re here. The coalition is breaking, and if it does, you will be overthrown,” Clarke said, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

“I won't just be killed, Clarke. If I die, the coalition will fall into the Ice Queen's hands. She is ruthless, Clarke. She doesn’t want peace; she wants power. If she takes command, your people will be the first to fall,” Lexa explained, her eyes pleading.

“And if we refuse to become the Thirteenth Clan?” Clarke questioned, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind.

“It sounds like your people will die anyway,” Lexa stated, not unkindly, but matter-of-factly.

A heavy silence enveloped the room. Clarke knew Lexa was right, but that knowledge didn’t bring her any solace.

“Why are you telling me this?” Clarke asked, confused. Shouldn’t she be discussing this with the Chancellor?

“Because you’re their leader, Clarke,” Lexa said, her tone softening, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, I'm not. I left,” Clarke admitted, her voice wavering.

“You can't run away from who you are, Clarke.” Hearing this reignited the fire within her. She clenched her fists, feeling the anger surge.

“You don’t know who I am,” Clarke replied defiantly, a flash of hurt crossing Lexa's face at her words.

“You’re angry, Clarke. But I know you. You’re a leader. You can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true. The things you've done haunt you, so it’s easier to hate me than to hate yourself. I will bear that hate as long as you need me to, but now is the time for you to step up. Your people follow you; they trust you. If you believe in this, your people will too,” Lexa explained, her eyes intense and unwavering.

Clarke felt the weight of Lexa’s words. She knew deep down that she had run from who she was for far too long.

“I will discuss what you’ve told me with the Chancellor and the council, and I’ll get back to you with a decision,” Clarke stated, her voice steady as she turned to leave.
“Oh, and Clarke,” Lexa called out, her tone softening. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Nodding, Clarke exited the room, the door clicking shut behind her. She took a deep breath, the cool air of the corridor washing over her. As she walked, the weight of the world pressed down on her shoulders. Each step felt heavy with the gravity of the decisions looming ahead.

Clarke made her way to her mother’s office, the echoes of their earlier conversation lingering in her mind. Walking into her mother’s office, she was met not only by Abby but also by Kane and the other council members, already gathered, their faces etched with concern and curiosity. As she entered, all eyes turned toward her, and a hush fell over the room.

“Clarke!” Abby’s voice broke the silence, a mix of relief and anxiety. “We were just discussing your return.”

Clarke could feel the weight of the council's scrutiny, but she pushed past her nerves. “I need to talk to you all about something urgent,” she began, her voice steadying as she faced the gathered members. “Lexa has proposed that Skaikru becomes the Thirteenth Clan.”

A murmur rippled through the room, a mix of skepticism and surprise swirling in the air. Clarke held up a hand to silence them, sensing the gravity of her words.

“Before you dismiss it, let me explain.” She took a deep breath, recalling Lexa's intense gaze and unwavering conviction. “War is brewing, and if we don’t act now, our people could be in grave danger. The Clans are targeting the coalition, going after the Commander.” Clarke released a shaky breath but pressed on. “The Grounders still don’t trust us. They see us as potential threats, much like the Mountain Men. We’re beginning to look like the new enemy, and our only chance for survival is to join forces with Lexa and her people. Under her protection, we’ll have the support we desperately need.”

“But can we trust her?” a council member challenged, crossing his arms defensively. “She left us to die once. What’s to stop her from doing it again?”

“Because she needs us just as much as we need her,” Clarke replied, her voice rising with urgency. “If we don’t stand together, we risk everything. This isn’t just about survival; it’s about ensuring a future for our people. We can’t afford to let pride dictate our choices.”

A tense silence filled the room, the weight of her words settling over them. Clarke could see the gears turning in their minds, uncertainty slowly giving way to contemplation.
“Clarke, you’re asking us to put our trust in someone who has betrayed us,” Abby interjected gently. “It’s a significant risk.”

“I know,” Clarke admitted, her heart racing. “But what choice do we have? We can either reject her offer and try to survive the winter, which you said we likely won’t manage. If by some miracle we do, we’ll face war with the Ice Nation and the entire Grounder army. Or we can become the Thirteenth Clan, secure the Commander’s protection, and gain a voice in the coalition. We could influence decisions rather than remaining mere pawns.”

The council members exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air palpable. Finally, Chancellor Abby leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “What do you propose?”

Clarke straightened, her resolve solidifying. “I propose that we accept Lexa’s offer. It’s our best chance not only to survive but to thrive.”

Another council member, a woman with sharp features, spoke up. “And what if it goes wrong? What if this is a trap?”

Frustration surged within Clarke, but she tempered it with calm. “Then we will have done what we had to. But if we don’t take this leap, we risk everything we’ve fought for. This is our chance to secure our future, to stand united.”

After a tense moment, Abby nodded slowly. “I support this. If Clarke believes it’s the right course of action, we should follow her lead. She knows the Commander best. My only concern is how to get the rest of our people to support this decision.”

“If we don’t do this, it won’t matter what anyone thinks because they won’t be here,” Clarke stated, her conviction clear.

One by one, the council members voiced their agreement, their resolve strengthening. As the last member gave her nod, a sense of relief washed over Clarke. They were ready to take this step, but doubt lingered in the back of her mind. She knew that it would be a bumpy road ahead.

“Alright,” Abby said, her voice steady. “Let’s make our decision known.”

Clarke’s heart raced as she turned to leave, heading back to Lexa’s quarters with her mother to inform her of the council’s decision. When they arrived, Lexa was waiting, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Have you spoken to the council?” Lexa asked, her voice low but urgent.

“Yes,” Clarke replied, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “We’ve agreed to your proposal. We will become the Thirteenth Clan,” Abby confirmed as she stepped in beside Clarke.
Lexa’s eyes widened, a flicker of relief crossing her face, quickly replaced by the seriousness of their situation. “In order to solidify your place in the coalition, you must come to Polis and meet with the ambassadors from each clan. They need to be convinced that your technology will benefit them. They will want to know your intentions and commitment.”

“We will prepare a team immediately,” Abby agreed, hurrying to leave the room.

“Oh, and Chancellor, Clarke must be present as the leader,” Lexa stated, her gaze intent on Clarke, as if gauging her reaction.

Abby shot Lexa a look of confusion, silently questioning the decision. Sensing the unspoken tension, Lexa elaborated. “Clarke is known as Wanheda and is considered a powerful leader among my people. She will be your best chance of gaining acceptance into the coalition.”

Clarke took a moment to absorb Lexa's words. The prospect of going to Polis thrilled her, igniting memories of the vibrant tales she’d heard from Niylah. But reality struck. Would it even be possible to convince the ambassadors to let them into the coalition? A wave of uncertainty washed over her. What if she failed and her people suffered because of it?
As if Lexa sensed her doubt, she stepped forward, her presence calming yet commanding. “I have the utmost faith in you,” Lexa said, her voice steady.
Clarke and Lexa shared a knowing look that anchored her amidst her uncertainty.

“When do we leave?” Clarke asked, determination hardening her voice.

“Tomorrow at first light,” Lexa replied, her expression relaxed but serious.

Clarke nodded, her mind racing with the implications of their next steps. “I’ll gather the council, and we can prepare for the journey,” Abby said before leaving the room.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Clarke turned to face Lexa, who stepped closer, intensity radiating from her. “You make your people proud, Clarke,” Lexa urged.
“If you betray me again…” Clarke began, her voice edged with a mix of desperation and resolve, but she was cut off.

“I won’t,” Lexa promised, her eyes fierce. “Once you are a part of the coalition, your people will become my people, and together we can ensure our survival.”

“Together,” Clarke echoed, the weight of their shared responsibility settling heavily between them. She wrestled with the notion of placing her faith in someone who had once shown her true colors.

As she turned to leave, a thought crossed her mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, this alliance could lead to something greater—not just survival, but a life worth living. It was a fragile hope, yet it flickered like a candle in the dark, illuminating the uncertain path ahead.

Clarke took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges to come. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of a new chapter, one that would either bind their fates together or tear them apart. With that thought lingering, she stepped into the corridor, ready to face whatever awaited her.

Chapter Text

Lexa POV

They set out for Polis in the dark morning hours. Clarke’s unhappiness at leaving the warmth of her bed earlier than she wanted was evident in the way her tired expression betrayed her.
“Are you ready for this?” Abby asked, giving Clarke a concerned look as they saddled the horses.

“Mom, I’m fine,” Clarke replied, her tone sharper than usual, but Lexa noticed the way she clenched her jaw, the way her eyes darted toward the camp, a silent longing to remain behind. Clarke was good at hiding her emotions, but Lexa had learned to read her.

Lexa kept her eyes on the horizon, avoiding the temptation to press her. She was used to maintaining a certain distance from those she led, but this—Clarke’s quiet discomfort—felt different. Clarke was more than a member of Skaikru to her. She wasn’t just a leader’s ally, a source of political leverage. There was something deeper between them, though Lexa had never been able to name it.

Once the horses were ready and the carts loaded, they left Skaikru camp at Lexa’s command. The first few hours passed in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the crunch of hooves on cold ground. Lexa kept her eyes forward, but her thoughts kept pulling her back to Clarke, drawn like a current. She stole glances, watching her every movement, but Clarke refused to meet her gaze. Every time their eyes almost connected, Clarke looked away quickly, as if she were actively trying to avoid her.

The distance was growing between them, and Lexa felt it in her bones. Was this how it would be from now on? She couldn’t remember the last time Clarke had let her in, really let her in, the way she had when they were first brought together. Lexa could no longer tell whether it was something Clarke had decided or if it was her own fault for drawing a line between them.

As dawn broke, the sky lightened with streaks of gold and rose, the crisp air cutting through the haze of sleep. Lexa breathed deeply, feeling the quiet calm of the morning settling over her. The sun’s golden light bathed the path ahead, reminding her of winter’s swift approach, its bitter chill. Yet there was something about the early light, something almost sacred in its quiet promise, that tugged at her. A new day, a new beginning. But no matter how the world seemed to wake around her, her mind kept circling back to one person: Clarke.

She couldn’t ignore the tension in Clarke’s body, the way her posture stiffened with each passing hour. The discomfort was clear in the way Clarke shifted in the saddle, her face pinched with strain. Lexa suspected Clarke wasn’t accustomed to such long rides, especially after everything she had endured.

It reminded her, not for the first time, of her own childhood—the first journey she had made as a Nightblood, taken from her family at the age of eight to fulfill a destiny she hadn’t chosen. The memories of that time had been buried for years, but now, watching Clarke, she couldn’t help but feel a distant echo. She remembered the soreness of her muscles after twenty-four hours on horseback, the way her body had cried out, every ache reminding her of what she had lost. She’d been taught to suppress those feelings. To suppress the longing for a family she’d never see again. She’d buried the grief so deep she had almost forgotten it was there.

But Clarke’s quiet struggle stirred something within her—something old and painful. The longing that Lexa had buried so long ago came rushing back, sharp and unexpected.
Beside her, Clarke’s discomfort deepened. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed tight, and her hands gripped the reins so hard her knuckles were white. Lexa couldn’t help but wonder—was this her burden to bear, too? Or was it the weight of expectations from both her people and herself? Clarke, the leader, the healer. But she was also just a girl, a girl who had lost so much.
Lexa turned her gaze toward the horizon, willing her mind to quiet. She couldn’t afford to focus on Clarke right now. She couldn’t afford to get lost in thoughts of her—her feelings, her doubts, the pull between them. She was Commander. She had to lead. Lead first. Feel later.

And yet, her gaze kept returning to Clarke.

Bellamy’s scowl only deepened the strain. He had voiced his displeasure about joining the clans more than once, often shooting Lexa hostile glances. His distrust was evident, a wall between them that would never come down. He whispered to Clarke constantly, though Lexa could never hear the words. Still, the tension was unmistakable. Bellamy saw her as a threat, someone who wasn’t to be trusted. And he made sure Clarke knew it, every chance he got. The protective stance he kept whenever she came near, as though shielding Clarke from the Commander, grated on Lexa’s nerves. It was a subtle but constant reminder of how little support Clarke had, even from her own people.

After a while, Clarke fell back to ride beside her mother, responding to Abby’s quiet call. Lexa felt an odd pang—part curiosity, part jealousy—as she watched them. She wondered, just for a fleeting moment, what their relationship was like. What it would have been like, had she never been taken away from her own mother.

Lexa slowed her pace, instinctively trying to hear their conversation, but she forced herself to look away. She couldn’t afford to let her curiosity betray her. And yet, when Clarke’s voice rang out, tense and weary, it was as though her heart twisted in response.

“Yes, Mom?” Clarke asked, her voice betraying the strain she was under.

“I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?” Abby’s voice was warm, the concern clear.

“Mom, I’m fine,” Clarke replied, her tone tight. “Please, stop asking.”

Abby’s concern didn’t waver. “It’s just that… with Niylah gone, and you still adjusting to being back, I worry about you. I don’t want this to be too much for you.”

Hearing Niylah’s name made something twist in Lexa’s chest. She knew there was history between Clarke and Niylah, but she had never asked about it. She had never felt it was her place. But now, she couldn’t help but wonder what Clarke had shared with Niylah, what kind of bond they’d had.

Clarke let out a sharp sigh. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, her voice strained, almost pleading.

Lexa’s heart ached for her. She understood more than most the desire to shut out the past, to bury the things that hurt. She had done the same, for so long. But some things couldn’t be buried, no matter how hard you tried. They had a way of coming back when you least expected them.

“Clarke…” Abby began, her voice gentle.

“Don’t talk about him,” Clarke snapped, her voice raw.

The words hit Lexa like a punch. She had never asked, never even thought to ask Clarke’s about her father, but hearing her speak that way—sharp, defensive—made something inside Lexa tighten. What happened to Clarke's Father? The thought gnawed at her.

Abby’s voice was softer now, pleading. “He would be so proud of you, Clarke—the person you’ve become.”

Clarke’s breath hitched, and she spurred her horse forward, leaving her mother behind with a determined, almost defiant expression. Lexa watched them, her heart heavy with the unspoken words between them.

As Clarke approached her, Lexa felt the weight of the moment settle between them. The distance, the silence. She could feel Clarke’s burdens pressing against her, could see the strain in her posture, in her eyes. Lexa wanted to say something comforting, but her words felt hollow, and her voice—heavy with command—seemed so out of place. As Commander, she couldn’t afford to show weakness, not even now. Not in front of her people. Not in front of Clarke.

But then, Clarke’s eyes met hers—just for a moment. That brief, fleeting connection sent a wave of peace through Lexa, something she hadn’t felt in days. For just a second, it was like everything fell away. The weight of leadership. The weight of the world. And all that remained was Clarke, her, just for that one moment. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and Lexa was left with the lingering ache of something unspoken.

Bellamy broke the moment, his voice loud and teasing as he pulled up beside Clarke. “Hey, princess,” he said with a grin, his eyes bright with mischief.

Clarke rolled her eyes, the tension easing from her shoulders, even if just a little. “What is it?” she asked, her tone softening.

“Oh, nothing. Did I ever tell you about Raven’s legendary stink bomb escapade that made the whole Ark smell for a week?” Bellamy’s smile was infectious, and Lexa couldn't help but watch the way it softened the hard edges of Clarke’s face. The sharp tension that had surrounded them for hours seemed to ease just a little as Clarke’s lips quirked upward, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through her somber facade.

“Hey, not cool!” Raven called from behind, her voice laced with mock offense.

Lexa noted the way Clarke’s laughter bubbled up, light and unguarded. It was a sound that stirred something deep within her—a fleeting glimpse of the girl beneath the weight of leadership, beneath the facade Clarke had been forced to wear. This is what a carefree happy Clarke looks like, Lexa thought, feeling an ache in her chest that she quickly suppressed.

“Raven, did that really happen?” Clarke asked, her voice bright with curiosity, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward slightly in her saddle.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Raven grinned, the mischievous glint in her eyes clear. “But if it did, it might’ve been due to a certain bet.”

Clarke's eyebrows rose. “A bet, huh? What kind of bet?”

The playful exchange was something so ordinary, so human, and yet, Lexa found herself caught in it, observing from the outside. How could they so easily slip into this rhythm? Her heart twisted. Her people never laughed like this—not in her presence. It would be seen as weakness, or worse, disrespect. In her world, laughter came only in moments of victory, when the battle was won. The rest of the time, silence was the armor of the strong.

“One that led to Bellamy getting a nasty case of poison ivy all over himself,” Raven exclaimed, clearly enjoying the retelling of the story.

The group erupted into laughter, the sound bright and free, echoing over the landscape. Clarke’s giggles rang out, the warmth of her voice cutting through the cold air. Lexa felt a knot in her stomach—an unfamiliar sensation, one she wasn’t sure how to name. There was something about the way Clarke’s laughter filled the space between them that made Lexa feel more distant, as though she was witnessing something she could never be part of.

“Bell, what were you thinking?” Clarke managed between her laughter, teasing Bellamy.

“I didn’t think,” Bellamy said with a grin, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “That’s my problem, isn’t it?”

Lexa’s eyes lingered on Clarke as she laughed, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. There was something raw and unfiltered about the way she let herself go, something that made Lexa’s chest tighten. I’ve never heard a laugh like that in a long time, she thought. She wanted to reach out, to connect, close the distance between them.

As they continued to ride, the group fell into an easy chatter, the tension of the day gradually dissolving. Clarke, Bellamy, and Raven seemed so at ease with one another, so normal. They were friends. Family, even. And Lexa, Commander of the Twelve Clans, felt herself on the outside looking in. She had never had that—never been allowed the luxury of simply being a person. She had always been the Commander, and the Commander didn’t have time for such things.

Her eyes flickered to Clarke again. There was something about the way Clarke looked—so human in that moment—that made Lexa feel as if she was seeing her for the first time. Not the leader. Not the diplomat. Just… Clarke. Her shoulders were no longer so stiff, the lines of stress on her face had softened just slightly, and her laugh still lingered in the air.

Lexa sighed inwardly, the ache deepening. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in this. The realities of what awaited them at Polis weighed on her shoulders, and she needed to focus. The ambassadors would not be easy to win over. Skaikru’s place among them was precarious at best. There is no room for distractions, Lexa. Not now.

But as the path ahead grew darker with the setting sun, Lexa found it harder to shake the weight of her own thoughts. The closer they got to Polis, the more the responsibilities pressed down on her, until it was suffocating. She needed to be sharp, to be ready. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not with everything at stake.

Night began to fall, and the distant lights of Polis appeared on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Lexa felt a swell of pride in her chest as she saw the city take shape against the darkening sky. Her city. The culmination of all the bloodshed, all the sacrifices made to get here. This was her legacy. She had fought for this place, and now it was on the cusp of something even greater.

She turned toward Clarke, her voice steady, but the emotion she kept hidden flickered beneath the surface. “Welcome to Polis,” she said, her tone almost reverent.

“Holy shit!” Raven’s voice cut through the quiet, her awe obvious as she took in the towering city walls. Lexa couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, despite herself. There was something infectious about Raven’s enthusiasm, something raw and unfiltered. It reminded her of what it meant to feel, something she had forgotten how to do.

Clarke, too, stared at the city with wide eyes, the awe in her expression unmistakable. Lexa watched her closely, wondering what it was like to be in awe of something like Polis. Lexa had seen the city born from dust, built from the ashes of war. To her, it was not a place of wonder. It was a symbol of her survival. A reminder that nothing came without a price. But to Clarke… there was something more.

Clarke’s eyes met hers then, and for a fleeting moment, Lexa saw it—the spark of wonder and excitement. It was the same look she had when she first experienced Polis all those years ago, when she had first seen the city as a place of promise, a place where alliances could be forged, a place that could bring peace. It reminded Lexa of why she had fought so hard to keep it standing.
For the first time in a long while, Lexa allowed herself to feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than just survival.

As they neared the gates, Lexa’s mind swirled with the weight of the negotiations ahead, with the decisions she would need to make. There were so many forces at play, so many people who would try to tear everything apart. And yet, despite the overwhelming odds, a quiet resolve filled her. I will protect this. I will protect us.

Her eyes briefly flickered to Clarke, who was now silent, her gaze fixed on the walls of the city. Lexa could almost hear her thoughts—the worries, the questions. But there was something else there, too. Something stronger. Clarke was strong. She had always been strong. Lexa knew that, even if Clarke didn’t always see it in herself.

And so, as they passed the gates and entered the heart of Polis, Lexa made a silent promise to herself: to protect the fragile bond between them, no matter what. No matter who might stand in their way.

Clarke looked back at her, their eyes meeting for a split second, and in that moment, Lexa’s heart did something unexpected. It flinched. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew that this—whatever this was between them—was not something she was willing to lose. Not again.

The gates closed behind them, and the sound of the city rose up to meet them. But in that moment, amidst the noise and the chaos, all Lexa could hear was the quiet, unspoken promise that something deeper than politics, than leadership, than war, was growing between them. And for once, she allowed herself to believe that it might just be enough to face the storm ahead.

Chapter Text

Clarke POV
The city was more breathtaking than Clarke could have imagined, even before she entered the gates. The night lights danced off the towering buildings, filling the streets with a vibrancy that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. A pang of longing hit her as she thought of Niylah, wishing her friend were there to experience it all by her side.

Clarke sensed Lexa’s gaze on her throughout the entire ride. No matter how hard she tried to act nonchalant, the weight of Lexa’s attention was impossible to ignore. Though she held resentment towards the commander, there was an undeniable pull whenever their eyes met. In those moments, Clarke found herself forgetting her anger, drawn in by the intensity of Lexa’s gaze. This only frustrated her more; she wasn’t ready to forgive the brunette.

As they approached the gates, the life of the city surged around them, buzzing like electricity through Clarke’s veins. Once they passed through, time seemed to slow. People turned their attention towards Lexa, showering her with praise and offerings, showing their respect. It was heartening to see how her people revered the commander. Yet, beneath the surface, Clarke could sense the unease rippling through the crowd—Skaikru’s presence was clearly a source of tension.

The streets were alive with people and vendors bustling about, their chaos flowing together like a well-oiled machine. Clarke marveled at how everything seemed to work in harmony, despite the overwhelming energy. She longed to explore, to lose herself in the vibrant atmosphere, but she knew she had to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Come, I’ll show you all to your sleeping quarters. You may explore the city tomorrow under my guard’s protection,” Lexa announced, pulling the Sky people from their astonishment.
As they followed Lexa through a maze of narrow streets and alleys, they approached the tallest building in sight. Clarke had to tilt her head back to take in its full height. Just then, a young girl stepped out, looking to be around Clarke’s age.

“Heda,” the girl said, smiling brightly before bowing her head.

Lexa’s eyes lit up at the sight of the girl, though she quickly masked her delight. “Anya, come. I’m about to show Skaikru their sleeping quarters.”

Clarke felt a twist of jealousy as she watched Lexa interact with Anya. Lexa’s expression softened in a way that made Clarke’s heart sink.

“Did you hear about the new trade routes? We have to discuss it,” Anya said, her voice filled with excitement. She stepped closer to Lexa, her enthusiasm evident.
“Of course, we will,” Lexa replied, a hint of affection in her tone. “You’ve been doing excellent work, Anya. I appreciate your efforts.”

Clarke’s stomach churned at the way Lexa’s gaze lingered on Anya, the warmth in her voice igniting a fire of jealousy inside her. It was a reminder of the bond they shared, a connection that felt like a barrier between Clarke and Lexa.

Noticing Clarke’s discomfort, Anya turned to her, a friendly smile breaking the tension. “You’re going to love Polis. The city has so much to offer. If you need any recommendations, just ask.”
“Thanks,” Clarke replied, her voice steady, though inside, she felt a storm brewing.

“Let’s go,” Lexa said, her tone shifting back to business as she turned away from Anya. Clarke followed closely, trying to shake off the feeling of envy that clung to her.
Moments later, they arrived at a small building just a block away from the towering skyscraper.

“Chancellor, I’m afraid this is where I leave you. Anya will show you where to store your belongings and answer any questions you may have. We will meet tomorrow to go over logistics,” Lexa informed the group.

“Thank you, Commander. We greatly appreciate your hospitality,” Abby replied.

As Clarke turned to enter the building with her group, Lexa called out, “Clarke, follow me.”

Clarke and Abby exchanged confused glances. Did Lexa just command her to follow?

“You will have different sleeping quarters,” Lexa stated, as if it were obvious.

With a slight nod, Clarke turned back to her mother. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Clarke will be safe under my protection,” Lexa added, trying to reassure Abby.

Abby nodded, though her concern lingered. She knew when to pick her battles, especially when it came to her daughter. They shared a quick hug before parting ways.

Clarke walked in silence beside Lexa as they made their way back to the large building. Upon entering, she was greeted by a torch-lit entrance leading to what appeared to be an old-fashioned elevator. The interior was a stark contrast to the sterile, fluorescent lights of the Ark; here, the soft, warm glow of torches and candles created a rustic ambiance.

As they stepped into the elevator, Clarke hesitated, unsure of its safety. Lexa seemed unfazed. “Don’t worry, Clarke. It’s perfectly safe.”

Clarke nodded but tightened her grip on the railing, her heart racing. The ride up was quiet, stretching out like an eternity as she battled her fear.

They arrived at a large double door, where guards stood at attention. As they approached, the guards opened the doors, revealing a vast room that took Clarke’s breath away. The space was enormous—big enough to fit twenty Ark rooms. A wall of windows overlooked the city, and a door led to what she assumed was a balcony. But the centerpiece of the room was the massive bed, three times the size of any bed she had ever seen, inviting her with its soft comfort.

As she absorbed the beauty of the room, a sudden ache reminded her of the long ride. Her muscles were sore, and she had to suppress the urge to waddle as she walked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lexa watching her. Did this girl ever stop observing her?

“Is it up to your standards, Clarke?” Lexa asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” Clarke replied, her heart softening a little at Lexa's concern.

They stood in silence for a moment before Clarke broke it, startling Lexa slightly. “Is there anything else you need from me, Commander?”

Lexa shook her head as she made her way toward the exit. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate. I’m on the floor above you. Just signal to your guards, and they will fetch me.”
Clarke offered a slight smile in response. “Goodnight, Clarke. I will meet with you in the morning,” Lexa said, her tone warm.

“Goodnight, Commander,” Clarke replied.

Once Lexa left, Clarke lingered for a few minutes, letting the silence envelop her. She began to explore the room, opening one door to find a spacious bathroom with what appeared to be a large tub. Another door led to a closet, empty but waiting. The room was adorned with various plants and rugs, and even had a cozy sitting area with a fireplace. It was breathtaking, unlike anything she had ever seen.

Finally, she stepped out onto the balcony. The height made her heart race, but she steadied herself, gazing out at the city below. The twinkling lights were mesmerizing, and she could have stood there forever. Time slipped away until a chill ran down her spine and a yawn escaped her lips. The weight of exhaustion settled over her, and she reluctantly returned to the bed.

Without her nightgown or luggage, she decided to strip down to her underwear, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the soft furs. She soon found herself enveloped in warmth, surrendering to sleep.

That peace was short-lived. Clarke woke in a panic, her heart racing and breath caught in her chest. It took her a moment to regain control, to remind herself that she was safe. Yet, the lingering effects of her nightmare clung to her like a shadow. Drenched in sweat, she slipped out of the thick furs and walked out to the balcony again.

The night air was cool against her skin, helping to ground her. The sky was dark, a thick blanket of clouds obscuring the moon. Rain was definitely in the air. Looking down at the city, she could only identify a few flickering lights. The bustling streets had transformed into a calm, almost peaceful expanse, a drastic contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

Clarke lingered on the balcony as long as she could, soaking in the city’s vibrant glow, but the chill in the air eventually drove her back inside. She crawled into bed, pulling the furs around her in an attempt to warm her limbs, but sleep felt distant and elusive. She sighed, wishing she had her art supplies to help pass the time and distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

Not wanting to feel trapped in the room, she decided to see if the guard outside could track down her belongings. A wave of guilt washed over her, but she pushed it aside; she needed something to occupy her mind. After slipping into her previous clothes, she headed to the door.

Opening it, she found two imposing guards standing at attention, their armor gleaming in the dim light. One of them turned toward her, his expression serious. “Wanheda,” he greeted, a respectful nod accompanying his words.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Could you send someone to fetch my luggage?” As the words left her mouth, a flicker of doubt made her second-guess her request.

“Sha,” he replied with a nod before striding down the hall.

Clarke closed the door and turned to the now crackling fireplace. After tossing a couple of logs onto the flames, she watched as the fire danced and flickered, slowly warming her still-chilled limbs. The glow illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. She settled onto the couch, lost in the hypnotic movement of the flames.

But her thoughts drifted back to Mount Weather, and a pang of pain pierced her chest. Each memory was a reminder of the choices she had made—choices she had to come to terms with, even if it hurt. She had done what was necessary, but that didn’t make it easier to bear.

Not long after she sent the guard to fetch her things, a knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She jumped up, excitement bubbling inside her as she rushed to open it. The door swung wide to reveal Lexa, dressed in casual sleep attire that softened her usually commanding presence. In that moment, she looked less like a fierce leader and more like a young woman caught off guard.

“Commander,” Clarke mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s tone was warm, but there was an undercurrent of formality.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked, running her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake. Shouldn’t Lexa be asleep right now? It had to be nearly three in the morning.
“I came to deliver your belongings. I apologize for not doing so earlier,” Lexa explained, though her voice retained the authority of her position.

“Couldn’t your guard have fetched it? There was no need to disturb you,” Clarke replied, stepping back to let Lexa enter, her heart racing unexpectedly.

Lexa smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting. “Yes, well, I ordered them to wake me if you needed anything.” The sheepishness in her voice caught Clarke off guard, making her momentarily speechless.

“Um, well, thank you. Let me take this off your hands so you can get back to sleep,” Clarke said, reaching for the bag.

Lexa hesitated, not moving from her spot. Instead, she continued to study Clarke, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she spoke again. “You know, you should also be sleeping at this hour, Clarke. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

A blush crept up Clarke’s cheeks at the concern in Lexa’s voice, a warmth spreading through her despite the tension between them. The thought that Lexa might actually care about her well-being delighted her, yet the pang of betrayal still lingered in the back of her mind. Clarke wasn’t ready to move on, and Lexa still had to prove herself.

“Anything else?” Clarke asked, trying to sound indifferent, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Clarke, I—” Lexa began, but her words faltered as their eyes met, the connection between them electric and charged with unspoken feelings.
“I will let you be, but do try to get some sleep,” Lexa said, her voice softer, almost defeated.

Clarke nodded, dismissing the now-disappointed commander, unable to tear her gaze away as Lexa turned to leave.

Once the door closed, Clarke sank back into the chair by the fire. She knew she needed to sleep, but the thought of being alone in the silence felt too heavy. For now, drawing was her only escape.

She picked up her sketchbook and began to draw the city, the image of the vibrant lights etched in her mind. As she sketched, the pain and regret that weighed on her began to fade, replaced by the rhythm of her pencil gliding over the page. Before she knew it, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

Clarke jolted awake to a sharp knock on the door, her heart racing as she sat up. The tightness in her muscles and the soreness in her neck reminded her of the awkward position she had slept in. Great, she thought to herself, not only are my hands and face covered in charcoal, but now I’m sore, too. As she stumbled toward the door, she grimaced at the way her body protested, trying to straighten her neck before opening it.

To her slight disappointment, Abby and Kane stood on the other side, their expressions brightening at the sight of her.

“Good morning!” Abby exclaimed, her cheerfulness cutting through Clarke’s lingering irritation as she stepped into the room.

“Wow, this place is incredible!” Kane added, his eyes wide as he took in the grandeur of the space, the high ceilings and intricate details creating an atmosphere of history and power.
“Check out the balcony,” Clarke suggested, eager to share the breathtaking view.

Kane moved toward the open doors, marveling at the sprawling city below. “You can see everything from up here,” he remarked, the excitement in his voice infectious.
Clarke turned back to them, her curiosity piqued. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, we have a meeting with the commander this morning, and we thought it would be wise to strategize with you beforehand,” Kane replied, his tone serious yet warm.
“Of course,” Clarke said, trying to brush off any embarrassment at the obviousness of their visit.

“Let’s sit inside; it looks like it might rain,” she suggested, glancing at the darkening sky.

After they settled on the plush couches, the three of them began discussing their plans, outlining potential approaches for the upcoming meeting. The atmosphere felt charged with anticipation as they shared ideas, but Clarke couldn’t shake the thought of Lexa. The way Lexa had been so attentive the night before lingered in her mind, stirring a mix of admiration and resentment.

As they walked through the bustling corridors of the building later, Clarke felt the electric energy of nerves coursing through her. She had to convince the ambassadors of their alliance, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Lexa. She remembered how the commander had come to her aid, a flicker of concern in her gaze that made Clarke’s heart race—despite the resentment she tried to hold onto.

“Clarke?” Abby’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, concern etched on her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just... thinking,” Clarke replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Kane and Abby exchanged a knowing glance, but Clarke brushed it off. Today was about alliances and securing their people’s future, yet the specter of Lexa loomed larger than any strategy session.

As they approached the meeting room, the grand space revealed itself, with high ceilings and walls adorned with intricate carvings depicting battles and victories. Lexa stood at the head of the long table, her presence commanding and fierce. The moment Clarke stepped inside, the air thickened with unspoken tension, crackling like static electricity between them. Clarke's heart raced, caught between admiration and the remnants of betrayal that still stung.

“Good morning, everyone,” Lexa greeted, her voice smooth yet infused with authority. Her gaze flicked briefly to Clarke, a silent question lingering in the air between them.
“Commander,” Abby began, her tone serious and respectful. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

Clarke settled into her chair, deliberately avoiding Lexa’s penetrating gaze. She could feel the weight of Lexa’s eyes on her, heavy and insistent, maddeningly capable of slipping beneath her defenses. It was infuriating how easily Lexa could unsettle her resolve, stirring feelings she desperately wanted to suppress.

As discussions unfolded about the implications of Skaikru becoming the thirteenth clan—the ceremony details, the necessity of gaining the ambassadors’ favor—Clarke sensed an underlying battle among them. Though the ambassadors’ support wasn’t strictly necessary, it was clear that if they weren’t on board, Lexa could be overthrown. No one would win in that scenario. Yet despite the weight of the discussions, Clarke struggled to concentrate. Each glance from Lexa sent her heart racing, her stomach twisting with conflicting emotions. She needed to be strong, to embody the leader her people required, but every time Lexa spoke, her confidence faltered.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice sliced through her thoughts like a blade. “What are your thoughts on Skaikru’s proposed borders and trade routes?”

Startled, Clarke looked up, her mind scrambling to catch up. “Uh, yes. I think… we should prioritize areas that benefit both our peoples,” she stammered, forcing herself to meet Lexa’s gaze. In Lexa's eyes, she found a flicker of challenge and invitation, igniting a spark of defiance within her.

“Very well,” Lexa nodded, her expression approving. “I agree. But we must also consider the safety of Trikru’s borders. The last thing we need is conflict over resources.”

As they debated, Clarke felt her frustration building. Lexa was strong, competent, and undeniably attractive in her fierce confidence. Each time Clarke attempted to assert herself, Lexa countered with calm, strategic insight that deepened Clarke’s sense of inadequacy.

“Any other questions or concerns before we conclude?” Lexa asked, her tone sharp as she surveyed the room.

“I believe everything is covered. Thank you, Commander,” Abby said, standing from the table, her posture resolute.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s gaze shifted to her, concern flickering in her eyes.

Clarke let out a shaky breath as she rose, her anxiety rising like a tide. Their earlier conversation had provided some reassurance about what to expect, but it hadn’t quelled her nervousness. “No questions, everything’s great,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Lexa paused, studying Clarke with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing her words carefully. “Be aware, Clarke, that they will most likely fear you. Stories of you have traveled far through the lands—the great tale of Wanheda. Use the power it gives you. They respect strength more than anything else. Power that you possess.”

Clarke met Lexa’s gaze, filled with an intensity that both encouraged and daunted her. “I’ll try,” she replied, a hint of determination creeping into her voice.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll call for the meeting. I will first inform them of my proposal to make Skaikru the thirteenth clan, then I’ll bring you into the room to answer questions and defend yourselves. Be warned: many may be upset, and not everyone will be pleased. Stay strong, and you will get through this. I’ll do my best to keep tensions low, but there’s only so much I can control.”

Waiting in the hallway felt like torture. Clarke could only imagine the turmoil inside. She hoped the ambassadors wouldn’t be too surprised or upset about Skaikru’s proposal, but she knew that was naive.

Her heart pounded as the meeting dragged on, the minutes stretching like an eternity. Just when she thought she might burst from anxiety, someone arrived to escort them. This was it—the moment they had been waiting for, the weight of her people resting heavily on her shoulders. As they stepped into the room, Clarke focused on standing tall, trying to embody Lexa’s stoic demeanor.

Lexa sat poised at the head of the table, radiating an air of control that both impressed and intimidated Clarke. Dressed in her full Heda attire—war paint accentuating her sharp features and a sash draped across her shoulder—she looked stunning and slightly terrifying. Next to the commander stood Anya. Clarke felt a pang of jealousy seeing how close he two were. But she couldn’t think about that right now. As they entered, whispers rippled through the room, the other ambassadors eyeing them with skepticism.

Once everyone settled, Lexa spoke, her voice slicing through the murmur. “Now that Skaikru has joined us, we can begin. As previously mentioned, I propose that Skaikru be recognized as the thirteenth clan.”

A low rumble of dissent echoed, punctuated by scoffs and murmurs. Clarke clenched her fists, feeling the weight of their scrutiny pressing down on her. The ambassadors’ eyes assessed her, measuring her worth as a leader, as Wanheda.

Lexa continued, her voice unwavering, “This alliance is not merely beneficial to Skaikru; it is essential for all of us. Together, we can strengthen our healers, share resources, and gain from their technology and knowledge. I will now allow Wanheda to speak of what they have to offer.”

As the attention shifted to Clarke, she fought to maintain her composure, knowing she needed to project confidence. Straightening her posture, she stepped forward, heart racing.
Clarke took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders. The air grew thick with tension, and she sensed skepticism radiating from the ambassadors. They were wary, and rightly so; the scars of the past were still fresh. But she couldn’t let fear guide her words. This was about more than just Skaikru—it was about unity, survival, and hope.

“Thank you, Commander,” Clarke began, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach. She scanned the room, locking eyes with the ambassadors, each gaze a challenge she was determined to overcome.

“As many of you have likely noticed, Skaikru does things differently than you are used to, but this does not mean our ways are inferior. Each approach has its own benefits. I propose we combine our knowledge for the greater good. Your greatest enemy, the Mountain, has fallen because we worked together, pooling our resources to defeat a common foe.”
She could see some of their expressions shifting, the murmurs quieting. “Since arriving on Earth, we have learned to adapt, survive, and innovate. We bring advanced knowledge and technology that could benefit all clans, particularly in healthcare and agriculture.”

A flicker of interest sparked among a few ambassadors, and Clarke pressed on, her confidence growing. “Our medical technology could drastically improve the healing capabilities of each clan. We possess methods and equipment that could save lives in ways that traditional practices may not. By working together, we can create a network of healers, sharing knowledge that would benefit us all.”

A murmur swept through the room, and Clarke could sense a shift. “Imagine a central hospital where healers from each clan can learn and exchange techniques. We can train together, strengthen our collective abilities. The challenges we face in this new world require cooperation, and we cannot afford to let fear and mistrust hold us back.”

As she spoke, Clarke noticed Lexa watching her intently, pride shining in her eyes, which fueled her resolve. “I understand trust must be earned, and I am here to prove that Skaikru is willing to fight for this alliance. We want to contribute to the strength of our clans, not take away from it. We are not just survivors; we are allies.”

Just as she thought she was gaining ground, an ambassador from the Mountain Clan stood up, arms crossed defiantly. “And what guarantees do we have that your people won’t turn on us when it suits you? We’ve seen the destruction you can cause. Your kind brings chaos, not order.”

Clarke’s heart sank, the weight of history pressing down on her. “I cannot change what has happened in the past,” she said, her voice tinged with desperation. “But I can promise that we are committed to forging a new path. We want to work with you, to protect our people together. We are stronger united than divided.” She sensed the room divide; she believed she had convinced about half the ambassadors, but many remained resistant.

“You speak of unity, yet your people have shown nothing of the sort,” said a woman in gold-specked attire, her tone accusatory. “Coming to Earth, slaughtering villages, killing our men, claiming our land as your own. How do we know you won’t just turn your backs on us when it suits you?”

“Because we came down with a defensive mindset,” Clarke explained, her voice gaining strength. “We didn’t know Earth was already inhabited. We didn’t know anything about you and your people. But we’ve learned from our past.” She took a breath, her passion igniting. “We know the cost of division. We’ve fought too hard to abandon our principles now. We want to build something lasting. We’re here to support you, to learn from you, and to ensure that every clan thrives.”

Lexa stood steadfast beside her, a silent pillar of strength. Clarke glanced at her, and Lexa nodded, her dark eyes urging Clarke to continue.

Taking a moment to steady herself, Clarke pressed on, “We can’t afford to let history dictate our future. The world is changing, and we must change with it. This unity isn’t just about Skaikru—it’s about the survival of all our people. Together, we can face any threat that comes our way.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation as Clarke waited for their response. She spotted a few hesitant nods among the ambassadors, but the overall tension remained.

Suddenly, a grizzled man from the Sankru (Desert Clan) sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is absurd. Why should we welcome these outsiders into our Coalition after everything? They can’t be trusted.” He spat towards Clarke, his disdain palpable before turning his glare on Lexa. “I can’t believe you would even consider this. It’s a sign of weakness, not strength. If you’re so enamored with the Sky People, perhaps you should just step down.”

The atmosphere shifted, the tension tightening like a noose. Clarke felt her breath catch, fury igniting in her chest. She glanced at Lexa, who remained unyielding, her expression cold and calculating.

“Your insults are as empty as your arguments,” Lexa replied, her tone steely. “You dare question me when it is your own clan that has consistently undermined the unity of this Coalition?”
“Let’s not pretend you’re not the weak one here,” the man shot back, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. “You let her live instead of seizing the power of Wanheda for yourself. That alone shows your weakness.”

Clarke’s heart raced, a mix of anger and indignation welling within her. She opened her mouth to defend Lexa, to demonstrate that she was more than just a title. But before she could find the words, Lexa moved with a speed that left Clarke breathless.

In one swift motion, Lexa crossed the room, her presence commanding. “I will not tolerate such disrespect in my hall,” she said, her voice low yet resonant. “You speak of weakness, yet you fail to understand what true power is.”

Before the man could respond, Lexa drew her blade, the steel gleaming in the flickering firelight as she pointed it at him. The room fell completely silent, the tension electrifying.

“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Lexa continued, her gaze unwavering. “You think threats will earn you respect? You confuse fear with power. I will show you the difference.”

In that moment, Clarke felt a surge of adrenaline. Lexa was commanding—terrifyingly so—and the raw intensity of her presence sent shivers down Clarke’s spine. The man squirmed under Lexa’s unwavering grip.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Heda,” he stammered, the bravado draining from his voice.

“Consider your words and actions carefully,” Lexa warned, her tone now sharp and resolute. “I will not shield you from the consequences of your disrespect.” With that, she sheathed her sword, the room buzzing with a mix of disbelief and awe. The man’s bravado evaporated, leaving only a pale shadow of his earlier arrogance.

Regaining her place at the front of the room as if nothing had happened, Lexa addressed the group once more, her voice firm and clear. “I am not here to force your hand, but to invite you to a new beginning. The joining of Skaikru into the Coalition will not only strengthen our people; it will create a legacy that future generations can depend on. We cannot let hatred, revenge, and fear dictate our actions any longer.”

Clarke felt a wave of hope at Lexa’s words. Perhaps they were making progress after all.

Roan, the ambassador from the Ice Nation, scoffed but hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his features. “And if we refuse?”

Lexa’s eyes darkened, her resolve unshaken. “Then you risk being left behind in a world that does not wait.” She addressed the group again, her voice steady. “We all face threats that we cannot predict. Right now, Skaikru offers us a new way forward. To reject their offer is to invite the destruction of our people.”

“Think of the potential,” Clarke chimed in, seizing the opportunity. “We have a chance to build something truly great, but it requires courage. Together, we can create a world where our children want to live—a new legacy based on trust, respect, and collaboration.”

Clarke held her breath, anticipation hanging in the air as she waited for the ambassadors to respond. Lexa’s presence beside her was a powerful reminder of what was at stake. The silence stretched on, tension still palpable, but Clarke could sense the wheels turning in their minds.

Finally, the ambassador from the Forest Clan spoke up, curiosity edging his voice. “If we were to consider this alliance, what would be the first steps?”

Clarke exchanged a glance with Lexa, who offered a subtle nod of encouragement. “We would begin by sharing our technology and knowledge,” Clarke explained. “We want to hear your thoughts on what would benefit each clan the most. By fostering trust and encouraging innovation, we can create a partnership that works for everyone. The possibilities are endless if we take this first step together. All we’re asking for is a chance to prove our worth.”

Slowly, she felt the room begin to shift, the weight of their scrutiny lessening, though it still lingered. Perhaps there was hope after all. With Lexa’s unwavering support, they just might convince the ambassadors to embrace the future they desperately needed.

“I believe we have heard enough,” Lexa declared, her eyes sweeping across the gathered ambassadors. “Reflect on my proposal. You have until tomorrow. Consider what is best for your clan and focus on the strength we can cultivate together rather than the past.”

As the meeting drew to a close, whispers filled the room, the atmosphere thick with uncertainty. Clarke felt the weight of Lexa’s gaze upon her, an unspoken acknowledgment of the challenges they were navigating together.

Chapter Text

Lexa POV

Lexa would say that, overall, the meeting went better than expected. Granted, Kol from the Podakru (Lake Clan) and Roan from Azgeda (Ice Nation) put up a fight, but they failed to sway the other ambassadors. It was evident that many were anxious and uncertain about their future, and Lexa couldn’t fault them for it. So much had happened in such a short span of time. People fell from the sky, they allied with these strangers to defeat their greatest enemy, and then abandoned them once their men were freed from the mountain. Despite all of this, their new allies from the sky had emerged victorious against formidable foes. This alone showcased the strength of the Sky People and their technology. But just because they were powerful didn’t mean the clans were ready to adopt their ways, and Lexa herself wasn’t eager to see their traditions fade.

In truth, Lexa struggled with the influx of new technology. The devices felt foreign and unnatural, clashing with everything she had grown up valuing. Yet she couldn’t deny the potential benefits. If used wisely, it could fortify their people, bring them advantages in battle, and perhaps even secure peace. But convincing the clans of that was another matter entirely. Her thoughts drifted to Clarke, wondering what she might say to ease the concerns of her people.

That first night back in Polis, Lexa had been eager to show Clarke everything the city had to offer. Even though they were at odds now, sharing the beauty of her home with Clarke had felt special. Lexa had hardly slept that night, her mind racing with thoughts of Clarke—knowing she was so close, just a room away. The idea both thrilled and unnerved her.

A sudden knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Lexa’s heart leapt—was it Clarke? She couldn’t help but hope. But as she opened the door, her excitement dimmed slightly. It wasn’t Clarke. It was Anya, her old mentor and friend, standing there with a familiar smirk.

“Anya,” Lexa greeted, raising an eyebrow. “Did everything go smoothly with Skaikru?”

Anya stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Am I not allowed to visit an old friend?” she teased, eyes glinting playfully. Anya was one of the few people who could speak to Lexa with such casual familiarity—and get away with it. Well, her and Clarke.

“You know you’re always welcome,” Lexa replied, straightening her posture. She was the Commander, after all, even if Anya could make her feel like just a girl again.

Anya’s eyes roamed the room. “You know, I’ve never been in here before,” she mused. “It’s... not what I expected.”

Lexa gave a small, curious smile. “And what exactly did you expect?”

Anya chuckled, her gaze settling on the neatly made bed, the orderly desk, and the sparse but elegant decorations. “It definitely suits you. You were always such a neat freak,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I guess I never really thought about where you slept. It’s strange, seeing this side of you.”

Lexa softened slightly, a rare smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not often I let people into my private space. But you—you’re different. You always have been.”

Anya grinned, folding her arms across her chest. “You really need to lighten up, Lex. We’re alone, no need for formalities.”

Lexa hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. It felt strange to drop her guard, even if just a little. She had been carrying the weight of duty for so long, she’d almost forgotten how to be herself. But with Anya here, it felt almost safe.

“How did it go with Skaikru?” Lexa asked, steering the conversation back to business.

Anya shrugged. “Surprisingly well. They were thankful and seemed to settle into their quarters without much trouble. They’re adapting quickly, I’ll give them that.”

“Good,” Lexa said, nodding in approval. “We need them to feel welcome. At least for now.”

Anya’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Speaking of welcome… Clarke is here, isn’t she?”

Lexa’s expression tightened, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “What about Clarke?”

Anya raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You tell me. She’s got you all twisted up, Lex. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Lexa replied sharply, though she knew her tone gave her away.

“Whatever you say,” Anya said with a knowing smirk. “But I support you, you know. It’s about time you found someone who isn’t just a bed warmer.”

“Enough,” Lexa snapped, her voice laced with frustration. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Anya always knew how to push her buttons, and right now, her emotions were running too high. “I didn’t call you here to discuss Clarke.”

Anya’s teasing smile faded as she realized the seriousness in Lexa’s tone. “Alright. What’s this really about?”

Lexa took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I need you at tomorrow’s meeting. It’s going to be intense, and I need your support.”

“Of course, Heda,” Anya said, her tone formal but sincere. “But why now? You haven’t needed me in meetings like this for years.”

Lexa hesitated. She knew she had to tell Anya the truth. “I’m going to make Skaikru the 13th clan,” she finally said.

Anya’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re serious?” she whispered, the disbelief clear in her voice.

Lexa nodded, trying to maintain her composure despite the doubt gnawing at her. “Yes. It’s already in motion.”

“How could you do this, Alexandra?” Anya demanded, using Lexa’s full name. Only her family and Anya had ever called her that. It made Lexa feel vulnerable in a way few could manage. “These people rely on technology—the same kind that the Mountain Men used to enslave us. The first thing they did was kill 300 of our warriors. How can you trust them? No one will accept this. You’re risking everything. For what?”

“For peace,” Lexa said firmly, though her voice wavered. “If we continue to fight amongst ourselves, we will only weaken our defenses against real threats. Skaikru can be an asset.”

Anya shook her head, her expression one of deep disappointment. “And you think Clarke has nothing to do with this decision? She’s gotten into your head.”

“Enough,” Lexa snapped, raising her voice. “This isn’t about Clarke. This is about our people’s survival.”

There was a tense silence. Finally, Anya took a step back, her eyes hard but her voice softer. “You know I disagree. I can’t support this. But I will stand by you tomorrow, even if I think it’s a mistake.”

Lexa swallowed hard, the hurt visible in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Anya nodded, the formal title slipping back into her tone. “Heda,” she acknowledged before turning to leave. But just as she reached the door, she paused.

“Sparring tomorrow morning?” Anya asked, looking back over her shoulder with a faint smile.

Lexa managed a small, genuine smile. “I’ll be there,” she promised.

With that, Anya slipped out of the room, leaving Lexa alone with her thoughts. The silence of the empty room felt suffocating, and her mind drifted back to Clarke. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking about Lexa too?

Just as Lexa was about to lie down, a knock sounded at her door again. She was informed that Clarke had requested her luggage to be brought to her. Lexa felt a pang of guilt—she hadn’t thought to offer Clarke her things earlier. Of course, she would need them. It surprised Lexa, though, that Clarke was still awake at this hour.

As the messenger left, Lexa leaned against the doorframe, staring into the empty hallway. The longing she felt for Clarke’s presence was almost painful. She knew tomorrow would be difficult, but having Clarke close, even if just in the same city, gave her a strange sense of hope.

Once her guards returned with Clarke's belongings, Lexa made her way down the stairs to Clarke's room. She had put a lot of thought into the space, specifically decorating it with Clarke in mind, should she ever visit Polis. It was the finest guest room in the tower, boasting the best view of the city and the largest balcony. Lexa felt a small, quiet satisfaction knowing Clarke had chosen it. She wanted her to feel comfortable, even if their relationship was on rocky ground.
When Lexa knocked gently on the door, she barely had time to prepare herself before it swung open. Clarke stood there, her expression shifting from excitement to surprise in a matter of seconds.

"Commander," Clarke mumbled, her voice almost a whisper. Lexa found herself unconsciously stepping closer, eager to catch every word. It had only been a few hours since they last saw each other, but every minute apart felt like an eternity. She noticed how Clarke's hair was slightly tousled, giving her a softer, almost vulnerable look. For a brief moment, Lexa spaced out, lost in the sight before her, but quickly snapped back, hoping Clarke hadn’t noticed her distraction.

"Clarke," Lexa greeted, her voice soft but formal, masking the wave of emotions bubbling inside her.

"What are you doing here?" Clarke asked immediately, her tone a mix of curiosity and something Lexa couldn’t quite place—was it nervousness? Annoyance? The Commander couldn’t tell. Clarke was as unreadable as ever, and it left Lexa feeling uncertain. Was Clarke upset to see her? The thought made her heart clench painfully. Why was she even here? It was late, and her guards could have easily delivered Clarke’s things. But the truth was, she wanted to see her.

"I came to deliver your belongings. I apologize for not doing so earlier," Lexa said, her voice unintentionally bashful. Though she tried to maintain her usual stoic demeanor, she couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. She had forgotten to take care of something so simple, so basic.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, stepping back to let Lexa into the room. "Couldn't your guards have done that? There was no need to disturb you."

Of course, Clarke would point that out. Lexa almost chuckled, but she restrained herself. She forced a small smile, barely lifting the corners of her mouth. "Yes, well, I ordered them to wake me if you needed anything," she admitted, feeling strangely vulnerable as she spoke the words. Why did it feel like she was laying her heart bare with such a simple statement?

Clarke blinked, seemingly caught off guard. "Oh. Well, thank you," she said, reaching out to take the bags from Lexa's hands. It was only then that Lexa realized she had been holding onto them tightly, as if letting go would mean letting go of this moment with Clarke. Reluctantly, she handed them over.

Once the bags were out of her hands, Lexa hesitated. She didn’t want to leave. The thought of returning to her cold, empty bed felt unbearable compared to standing here, so close to Clarke. She watched as Clarke placed the bags down, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of her exhaustion.

"You know, you should be sleeping at this hour," Lexa said gently, her voice filled with genuine concern. "We have a busy day tomorrow." She wanted Clarke to know she cared about her well-being, but she was also careful not to overstep any boundaries. The last thing she wanted was to push Clarke further away.

A faint blush crept across Clarke’s cheeks, and for a moment, Lexa felt a surge of pride. It was a small reaction, but it was enough to make her heart swell. But just as quickly as the blush appeared, it was replaced by a flicker of anger—an all-too-familiar look of resentment Clarke still harbored.

"Anything else?" Clarke asked, her tone clipped, a sharp edge to her words.

Lexa’s heart sank. She wanted to say so much more—to explain, to apologize, to make Clarke understand why she had made the choices she did. But she knew words alone wouldn’t be enough. Clarke needed actions, proof of her sincerity. And Lexa was determined to show it, no matter how long it took.

"I will let you be," Lexa said softly, surrendering to the tension in the room. "But do try to get some rest."

Clarke gave a curt nod, and with that, Lexa turned and left, the door closing behind her with a soft click. The silence of the hallway felt deafening as she walked away, her heart heavy with unspoken words.

The Next Morning

Morning arrived all too soon. Lexa had managed to sleep, but her body felt stiff, as if it had been bracing itself for the day ahead even in slumber. The crisp morning air sent a shiver down her spine as she dressed swiftly, needing to release the pent-up anxiety that had built overnight. The thought of passing by Clarke’s room made her pause for a moment. She longed to knock, to check if Clarke was alright, but she knew better. Instead, she steeled herself, banishing the thought as she headed to the training grounds.

The training field was a place of comfort for Lexa. The familiar sights and sounds of sparring filled her with a sense of nostalgia. She spotted Anya leading the natblida novitiates in their morning exercises, her sharp commands cutting through the air. The newest novitiate, Madi, noticed Lexa’s presence first. Distracted, Madi failed to block an attack from her partner and fell hard to the ground.

"Focus, Madi," Anya chided, glancing up as she noticed Lexa approaching. "Commander," she greeted, inclining her head with respect. "Thank you for joining us."

Anya called for the children to pause and line up. "The Commander has graciously decided to observe your training today," Anya announced. "I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. Do you understand?"

The novitiates responded in unison, their voices strong and disciplined. Lexa couldn’t help but be reminded of her own training days. It was painful to think about those times—how they had formed bonds with one another, only to be forced into a brutal competition that ended with only one survivor. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on the present.

Lexa and Anya sparred together, occasionally pausing to explain techniques to the novitiates. It felt good to lose herself in the familiar dance of combat, to feel the strain in her muscles and the burn in her lungs. It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in her mind. After a couple of hours, the sun rose higher, signaling it was time to prepare for the day’s meeting.

"Good work," Lexa praised the novitiates as they dispersed. She turned to Anya, giving her a nod. "I'll see you at the meeting later."

Anya smirked, clapping Lexa on the back. "Try not to let those ambassadors eat you alive, Commander," she teased.

After the Meeting

The meeting had been intense, filled with arguments and power plays. Lexa watched as Clarke slipped out of the room, her expression unreadable. She wanted to follow her, to see how she was holding up, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Her fleeting glances would have to be enough to reassure Clarke for the moment.

As the room emptied, Lexa felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She needed air, space to clear her mind. Only Anya and Abby remained behind.
"Commander, thank you for today," Abby said, her tone polite but strained.

"Chancellor," Lexa replied with a nod. "You should thank your daughter for her contributions."

Abby’s expression hardened. "That’s actually what I wanted to discuss." She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "I want you to leave Clarke out of this, Lexa. This… game you're playing, whatever it is—it stops now. She’s done enough. This life is taking too much from her. If you care about her, then let her go."

Lexa was taken aback by the raw emotion in Abby's voice. She had never seen the Chancellor so upset. It stirred something inside her—guilt, perhaps, or fear that Abby might be right.
"I assure you, Chancellor, I’m doing what I believe is best for Clarke and for our people," Lexa replied, her voice icy, trying to mask the irritation building within her.

Abby’s eyes flashed with anger, but she simply nodded, turning sharply on her heel and exiting the room without another word.

Anya, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, raised an eyebrow once they were alone. "That was… unexpected," she remarked, watching Lexa closely.

Lexa didn't respond, her mind elsewhere. She needed a moment to breathe, to think. "You’re dismissed, Anya," she said quietly, already heading toward the balcony.

Alone at last, Lexa stepped outside. The cool breeze kissed her face, a stark contrast to the heated tension inside. She tugged at the collar of her attire, feeling the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. Her gaze drifted over the bustling streets of Polis below, a sense of nostalgia washing over her.

An idea sparked in her mind—a way to show Clarke her world through her eyes. Maybe tonight, she would take Clarke to see the city as she once did, to visit the places she escaped to as a novitiate. A small smile tugged at her lips as she imagined it—the two of them wandering the city together, side by side, without the weight of their titles and burdens. Maybe, just maybe, she could show Clarke the Polis she once knew: the hidden alleyways where she found solace, the quiet rooftop where she watched the stars, and the market stalls that filled the air with laughter and life. For one night, Lexa hoped she could offer Clarke a glimpse of her world, not as the Commander, but as the girl she once was—a chance to find a bit of peace together amidst the chaos.

Chapter Text

Clarke's POV
The meeting earlier had been intense. Clarke expected that, but it didn't make it any easier. There was an electric energy in the room when Lexa took charge—a magnetic, almost intimidating presence that made it impossible to look away. Lexa’s command was undeniable, and Clarke couldn’t help but admire her strength. Yet, the distance between them now, the unspoken tension, felt just as suffocating as the pressure in the room during the talks.
After the meeting, Clarke, Kane, and Abby returned to Skaikru’s temporary base camp, flanked by Lexa’s guards. They hadn’t been allowed to bring their own security or weapons into the building, a reminder of the distrust still lingering between their people. This was Clarke’s first time really looking around the base. It was impressive—well-constructed, with large rooms and smaller sleeping quarters, all meticulously organized. It was clear that Lexa had considered their needs, even if the political tension made it hard for Clarke to feel fully comfortable.

As they entered the central living and dining area, it felt like stepping into the heart of the camp. The room buzzed with activity, filled with wires, tools, and half-finished projects. Raven was already hunched over a table, soldering a device with her usual intense focus. Bellamy was there too, pacing restlessly, his face twisted with worry.

When they walked in, all eyes turned toward them. Raven was the first to speak, her voice cutting through the room’s quiet murmurs.
“How did it go?” Raven asked sharply, setting down her tools.

Clarke hesitated for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down on her. "Better than expected," she admitted with a tired smile. "We have some support, but it’s really going to come down to what we present to the ambassadors tomorrow."

Kane stepped in, his presence a calm anchor in the room. "Our work isn’t finished yet," he said, echoing Clarke’s thoughts. The tension hung heavy in the air. Everyone knew the stakes, but Clarke couldn’t shake the lingering doubt: Could they truly make this alliance work? Could she trust Lexa completely again? And would Lexa really protect her people as her own?

Raven smirked, confident as always. “Good thing I have exactly what we need,” she said, her tone filled with certainty.

For the next few hours, Clarke worked with Raven, going through the different devices Raven had brought. She explained each one meticulously, showing Clarke how to use them and how best to present their technology to the ambassadors. Despite Raven's enthusiasm, Clarke felt her energy draining. It was only late afternoon, but she already felt more exhausted than she had in a long time.

After a while, Clarke realized she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. "Hey, Mom," she said, placing a gentle hand on Abby’s back to get her attention. "I’m going to lay down for a bit."

“Are you alright, honey?” Abby asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just really tired," Clarke admitted, feeling the exhaustion seep into her bones.

Bellamy, who had been watching them, immediately stepped in. “I’ll show you to my room so you can rest,” he offered. Clarke nodded gratefully and followed him up the stairs.

The room was small, with just a bed and a nightstand. Clarke glanced around, noticing a few personal items Bellamy had set up, including a couple of old photographs. One picture caught her eye—a young Bellamy with Octavia on his back, both of them grinning widely.

"How did you get this?" Clarke asked, picking up the photo.

Bellamy's expression softened. "Mom paid a guard to use an old instant camera," he explained.

Clarke smiled, setting the picture back down. She felt a wave of warmth at the sight of it. "Thanks for letting me use your room," she said, her gratitude genuine.

"Of course," Bellamy replied. "Let me know if you need anything."

Clarke nodded, already feeling the pull of sleep as she slipped off her shoes and lay down. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was out. For once, her dreams were peaceful, free of the haunting images that usually plagued her sleep.

She awoke to the sound of shuffling. Blinking blearily, it took her a moment to remember where she was. The room was dark, and she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted, she realized Bellamy was sleeping on the floor beside her, a blanket thrown haphazardly over him. Before she could process this, the door creaked open, letting in a sliver of light.

Clarke squinted, making out the silhouette of Lexa standing in the doorway. What is she doing here? The open door seemed to wake Bellamy as well. He shot up quickly, moving to stand protectively between Clarke and Lexa.

“Clarke, may I speak with you? Alone,” Lexa asked, her voice sharp. Clarke couldn't tell if her tone was directed at her or at Bellamy.

Sitting up, Clarke swung her legs over the side of the bed and began putting on her boots. “Just give me a second,” she muttered.

As she tied her shoes, she could feel the tension in the room. Bellamy's posture was defensive, and for a split second, she caught a look in Lexa’s eyes—jealousy. It was subtle, but it was there. Clarke had never seen Lexa like this before, almost... possessive.

“Bellamy, it’s alright,” Clarke said, trying to calm him. He didn’t relax entirely but stepped aside to let her pass.
Lexa turned on her heel, and Clarke took that as her cue to follow. Before she could leave, Bellamy gently grabbed her arm. “Be careful,” he warned quietly.

Clarke gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. Go back to sleep. I’ll head back to my room in the tower after this.”
“I’ll walk you,” Bellamy offered, the worry clear in his voice.

Clarke shook her head. “I’ll be safe with Lexa. Now, get some rest. Goodnight.”

Reluctantly, Bellamy nodded, watching her leave.

Downstairs, Clarke was surprised to see her mother still awake, sitting by the fireplace. Abby's expression softened as she noticed Clarke and Lexa enter the room. Rising to her feet, she walked over to embrace her daughter.

“How are you feeling?” Abby asked, her voice gentle.

“Much better,” Clarke admitted. It was true—she felt more rested than she had in a long time.

“We’re going to talk for a bit,” Clarke said, nodding towards Lexa. “Then I’ll head back to the tower.”

Abby gave Clarke a worried look but didn’t argue. “Be safe,” she whispered, giving Clarke’s shoulder a squeeze before heading off to bed.

Lexa remained silent, watching the exchange. Once Abby was out of sight, Clarke turned back to Lexa and was struck by her appearance. Lexa wore no war paint, her face bare and vulnerable. Her attire was simple, casual even, save for the sword on her back. She looked... different. Younger, almost.

“What did you want to talk about?” Clarke asked.

“Are you sick or injured?” Lexa’s voice was filled with concern.

“What? No, I’m fine,” Clarke said, frowning. “Why would you think that?”

“Your mother asked how you were feeling,” Lexa explained, as if it were obvious.

Clarke huffed out a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Now, what did you need?”

Lexa hesitated, as if debating whether to continue. “When I found out you weren’t in your chambers, I was concerned. I wanted to escort you back,” she admitted.

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You came all the way here just to walk me back? I could have stayed here, you know.”

Lexa shifted slightly. “Yes, but… that’s not the only reason,” she said, her voice dropping to a softer tone.

Clarke’s curiosity piqued. “Then what is it?”

Lexa took a deep breath. “I wanted to show you Polis,” she confessed, her voice almost shy. “Not as the Commander, but as Lexa.”
Clarke blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in her words. “Why now?”

“Because this is the only time I can show it to you as myself, not as the leader,” Lexa admitted, her eyes searching Clarke’s for understanding.
Clarke’s expression softened. She gave a small nod. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Lexa visibly relaxed, a breath of relief escaping her as she turned towards the door. Clarke followed her outside, where the half-moon illuminated the city streets. A chill ran down her arms as she stepped into the cool night air, and she regretted not bringing a coat.

Lexa led them through a narrow alleyway, the sounds of the city fading behind them. For the first time in what felt like ages, Clarke allowed herself to just be in the moment, wondering what parts of Polis Lexa would show her and what stories she might share under the moonlit sky.

“Where are you taking me?” Clarke asked, her voice laced with curiosity. She quickened her pace to walk beside Lexa, who had been moving so swiftly that she had almost left her behind.

Lexa slowed down to match Clarke’s pace, her expression softening. “My apologies,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I got a little too excited about you agreeing to let me show you around the city.”

Clarke felt a stirring inside her. She wasn’t sure what to make of Lexa’s openness. How had she, of all people, become so vulnerable with her? Was it because they were alone, away from the pressures of leadership? Or had something about their bond changed since their first encounter?
Clarke glanced at Lexa, waiting for an explanation, but Lexa said nothing more. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a quiet understanding, a shared moment of peace in the midst of chaos. The city around them was eerily still, the streets empty in the stillness of night.

After a few moments, Lexa spoke again, breaking the silence. “When I was a child, I was taken from my family and brought here to Polis to train. I was groomed to be Commander, one day.”

Clarke’s heart softened at the weight of Lexa’s words. She looked at Lexa, trying to imagine what it must have been like to leave everything she had ever known at such a young age.

“How old were you?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious. She could only imagine the pressure and sacrifice Lexa must have endured to be where she was now.

“Eight,” Lexa replied, her voice quiet, almost wistful. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, a glimpse into a past that was never truly hers to choose.
Clarke felt the quiet settle around them once more. She wanted to ask more—wanted to press Lexa for more details, to learn everything she could about her—but she knew better than to push. Lexa had shared as much as she was willing to. Instead, Clarke decided to offer a piece of herself, something that might make Lexa feel less alone in her vulnerability.

“Well, when I was eight, my favorite movie was Where the Red Fern Grows,” Clarke said with a small laugh, remembering how she had watched it over and over again as a child. “I must have seen it a thousand times. I even forced my friend Wells to watch it with me, and he hated it.”

Lexa turned her head to look at Clarke, a quizzical expression crossing her face. “Do you not know that one?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lexa shook her head, her expression still confused. “I don’t even know what a movie is,” she admitted, and Clarke blinked in surprise.

“I mean,” Lexa continued, “I’ve read about the evolution of technology, but that’s as far as my knowledge goes. Movies... I don’t think we have anything like that.”

Clarke’s mouth opened in shock. She had assumed that, with everything they had in common, Lexa must have known about movies. But now she realized how different their worlds were. How had I not thought of that? she chastised herself.

“Oh,” Clarke said quietly, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood her cheeks. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s alright,” Lexa said with a soft chuckle, clearly unbothered. She glanced sideways at Clarke. “You forget how different our lives have been, don’t you?”

Clarke’s heart clenched at the comment. It was true. Lexa had been groomed for leadership her entire life, while Clarke had grown up in space, fighting for survival with her people. Despite their shared experience of loss and hardship, they were still worlds apart.

“Sometimes I forget,” Clarke admitted, her voice quieter now. “How different our worlds are. How different we are. You’ve had to carry the weight of your people on your shoulders since you were so young. I… I can’t even imagine.”

Lexa’s gaze softened at Clarke’s words, but she didn’t say anything in response. Instead, they continued walking in silence, the sounds of their footsteps muffled in the stillness of the night.

They soon arrived at a large, open area that looked like a courtyard, surrounded by towering stone walls. The moonlight bathed the area in a soft glow, and Clarke could see the stone floors stretched out before them. It was breathtaking.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” Clarke murmured, taking in the view. The high stone walls gave the area an ancient, almost sacred feel. It was as though they had stepped into a hidden world, one that few had ever seen.

Lexa smiled faintly at Clarke’s reaction, but didn’t say anything at first. She simply watched Clarke take in the view, as though seeing the place through her eyes.

“What is this place?” Clarke asked, turning to face Lexa, her voice filled with awe.

“This is where I spent a lot of time growing up,” Lexa said. “These are the training grounds.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “No wonder you’re such a good fighter,” she said with a teasing smile. But there was a deeper admiration in her voice, something that made Lexa’s lips twitch upward for just a moment.

“Come,” Lexa said, her voice softer now. “Follow me. There’s something I want to show you.”

Clarke nodded, her curiosity piqued. Lexa led her to a side entrance, where they descended into a dark tunnel. Lexa grabbed a torch and lit it, the flickering flame casting eerie shadows on the stone walls as they moved deeper into the darkness.

After what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes, Lexa stopped in front of a small, empty room. The walls were made of cold stone, and in the center of the room was a large stone bed. Clarke was about to ask why they had stopped here when Lexa suddenly knelt down beside a stone structure and pulled a hidden lever.

The floor shifted, and a small area opened up. Clarke followed Lexa through the opening into a narrow passageway. It was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the scent of old stone. As they made their way down the passage, Lexa paused and lit a torch along the wall, revealing a ladder that seemed to go on forever.

Clarke stared up at the ladder, her stomach sinking. It stretched two stories high, and the thought of climbing it made her feel dizzy.
“You ready?” Lexa asked, her voice calm, but Clarke could see the flicker of concern in her eyes.

Clarke took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. You can do this, she thought, though her hands were already beginning to sweat. “Always,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

Lexa gestured to the ladder. “You first,” she said, giving Clarke an encouraging smile.

Clarke nodded, her heart pounding as she grabbed the first rung. Slowly, she began to climb, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of her movements rather than the dizzying height. She could feel Lexa behind her, close enough that whenever Clarke felt the urge to look down, she was met with the reassuring sight of Lexa’s form instead of the frightening drop below.

It was a slow climb, and every muscle in Clarke’s body screamed in protest. Her hands were slick with sweat, but she forced herself to keep going, determined to reach the top.

“We’re almost there,” Lexa called, her voice breaking through the fog of Clarke’s thoughts. The sound of Lexa’s voice gave Clarke a surge of strength, and she pushed herself upward, faster now, until she finally reached the top.

When Clarke’s feet finally hit solid ground, she let out a relieved sigh. She took a moment to steady herself before looking around the small room. A single window let in just enough light to illuminate the space. Clarke walked toward it, her gaze immediately drawn to the view below. She could see the training grounds stretching out beneath her, the moonlight casting long shadows across the stone.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice filled with awe as she turned back to Lexa.

“This was one of my hiding spots,” Lexa said, her tone low, almost wistful.

“The big, bad Commander has hiding spots?” Clarke teased, her smile playful.

“To be fair, I was just a child then,” Lexa replied with a small shrug, though there was a slight smile on her lips.

Clarke’s gaze softened as she looked at Lexa. For all her strength, Lexa had still been a child once, and like any child, she had longed for something more. “You were just trying to be... normal,” she murmured, her voice gentle.

Lexa let out a soft hum in response, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in Clarke’s words. "Mhmm, whatever you say." She teased, her lips curling into a slight smile.

As they stood in the small, dimly lit room, Clarke's eyes drifted over to the corner, where a wooden makeshift chair sat, draped with a small woolen blanket. Next to it, a row of five books rested on the stone floor, their edges worn, their pages yellowed with age. Curiosity piqued, Clarke knelt down, carefully running her finger along the bindings. She was surprised to find that all of them were children’s fantasy books—stories of magic and adventure.

Surely, commander training didn’t involve these kinds of books. Clarke couldn’t help but look back at Lexa, who had been unusually quiet as she watched Clarke. It was as though Lexa could read her mind.

"I often misbehaved," Lexa said softly, the words carrying a weight Clarke hadn’t expected.

Clarke glanced over her shoulder at Lexa, holding her gaze. She could see the vulnerability in Lexa’s eyes, an openness she hadn't shown before. She didn’t say anything but simply waited, and to Clarke’s surprise, Lexa continued.

“We weren’t allowed to read such literature,” Lexa said, her voice tinged with both regret and defiance. “Luckily, Titus never found out. But I couldn’t get enough. Most of the books were destroyed, but over the years, I’ve managed to get my hands on a few.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully, her fingers still trailing across the fragile pages. She picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and opened it to the first page. There, in the corner, was an inscription: Lex, never stop dreaming—Costia.

The name hit Clarke like a cold wave. She knew it well. Costia. She remembered hearing it before—the day she had to say goodbye to Finn. Her heart sank with the memories of that painful day.

“I lost someone important to me too,” Clarke said softly, almost without thinking. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the grief of her own past. “Costia.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Lexa reacted—quick, almost too quickly. She snatched the book from Clarke's hands, causing Clarke to flinch in surprise.

“Sorry,” Clarke said immediately, feeling guilty for intruding on what was clearly a private memory. “I didn’t mean to…”

Lexa froze for a moment, her gaze flickering between the book and Clarke. The brief flicker of panic in her eyes softened into a quiet apology.
“My apologies, Clarke. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I didn’t realize your kind was able to read,” Lexa muttered, almost too casually.

Clarke frowned, confused. My kind?

“Oh, yeah. All Skaikru can read,” Clarke explained. “Well, except for the youngest children. But that’s just because they haven’t learned yet. Don’t you all read?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious.

Lexa hesitated before replying, the words coming out slower. “No, only those who hold the top ranks of power,” she admitted, her voice quiet as if saying it out loud made it more real.

That surprised Clarke, especially given how well the Grounders seemed to speak English.

“But you all speak multiple languages,” Clarke remarked, looking at Lexa, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Only warriors learn English,” Lexa explained. “Each clan has its own tongue, but English is taught as a second language to those who must communicate with the other clans. It’s... necessary.”

Clarke processed this, feeling the vast differences in their cultures. It was a humbling reminder of how much she still had to learn about Lexa and her people.

"Come," Lexa said, her voice shifting to a more playful tone, almost as if to change the subject. "I want to show you more of my favorite places."
“So you have more hiding places?” Clarke teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“All throughout the city,” Lexa replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

After the terrifyingly long descent down the ladder, the two made their way back through the quiet training yard and into the square. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt like they were beginning to understand each other in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.
“This is where most shops and trades are located,” Lexa explained, her voice a little warmer now. “But I’ll have to show you during the day. It’s truly magnificent to experience when the sun is up.”

Clarke looked around, the square empty in the quiet of the night, and raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?” she asked. “Why didn’t you show me during the day?”

Lexa’s expression softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “This was the only time I could show you around as Lexa, not the Commander. Besides, I’ve always liked exploring the city at night. It was the only time I had to myself... to breathe. As Commander, every second of my day is planned. I never had time for things like this.”

Clarke’s heart ached at the words. No wonder she’s so guarded. It felt as though Lexa had spent her whole life carrying the weight of responsibilities, never truly allowed to just live for herself.

“What is the Conclave?” Clarke asked, her curiosity piqued. She saw Lexa stiffen slightly beside her, and for a moment, she thought Lexa might not answer.

“It’s how our next leader is chosen,” Lexa said quietly, her gaze distant. But she didn’t elaborate, and Clarke, sensing that Lexa wasn’t ready to go into more detail, decided not to press.

The two of them continued walking side by side, the silence between them comfortable. Clarke realized that Lexa, despite everything—despite being the Commander—was just a person. She had feelings, fears, desires just like Clarke. The thought made Clarke’s chest tighten.

As they approached the edge of the city, the walkway narrowed, and the sounds of the city seemed to fade away. They arrived at a small, secluded garden, hidden behind high stone walls. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat at the unexpected beauty of the place—a quiet oasis, a moment of peace amidst the chaos of Polis.

Lexa spoke softly, as if to herself, her voice filled with a quiet sadness. “This is where I come when things get too... heavy,” she said. Her eyes were distant, as if looking back on memories Clarke couldn’t fully understand. “When I need to think. To remember who I am, beneath all the titles and duties.”

Clarke watched her closely, sensing the vulnerability that Lexa was allowing herself to show. It was a side of Lexa she hadn’t expected—a side that wasn’t cold or commanding, but simply human.

“I didn’t expect... this side of you,” Clarke admitted, her voice quiet but sincere. “You always seem so strong, so certain.”

Lexa glanced at her, and for a moment, there was a crack in her walls. A small, but significant, crack. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked softly. “No one is certain, Clarke. I’m certain of many things. But not everything. Not even myself, sometimes.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Clarke felt something shift inside her—a mixture of admiration, empathy, and something more. Something deeper. She wanted to say something, to comfort Lexa, but the words didn’t come. She couldn’t find the right way to bridge the gap between them, to make Lexa understand.

“Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that you may be right,” Clarke whispered back.

As they walked through the garden in silence, taking in the beauty around them, Clarke was once again stopped in her tracks. She saw something etched into the bark of a nearby tree—a carving of words, carefully inscribed.

C- Yu gonplei ste odon. Your fight is over, Clarke read, her fingers lightly tracing the carving.

She stepped back, glancing over at Lexa, whose face had softened, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and remembrance. Clarke could see the hurt that still lingered in her—the loss of Costia, the person Lexa had loved and lost.

“How did she die?” Clarke asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as she met Lexa’s gaze.

Lexa exhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the memory. For a long moment, Clarke wasn’t sure she was going to answer. But then Lexa spoke, her voice low and filled with sorrow.

“She was captured and tortured by the Ice Queen when I first began my quest to unite all twelve clans,” Lexa said, her eyes distant as if trying to distance herself from the reality of it. “I didn’t even know she was captured until... until I was sent.”

Clarke’s heart broke at the pain in Lexa’s voice. The raw emotion was so unexpected that she couldn’t help but step forward, her instincts pulling her closer to the woman who had always seemed untouchable, so distant and composed. But here, in the quiet of the garden, Lexa was more vulnerable than Clarke had ever seen her.

Lexa paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and for a moment, Clarke wondered if she was going to say anything more. The anger and the sorrow that filled Lexa’s gaze told the story more than words could.

“She died because of me,” Lexa repeated softly, almost to herself, as if trying to make sense of it. The words, filled with guilt, lingered in the air like a heavy fog.

Clarke felt a deep ache in her chest as she watched Lexa try to remain strong, the grief barely held back behind the cold mask of the Commander. But Clarke knew better than anyone what that kind of pain felt like. She had her own ghosts, her own losses that weighed heavily on her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered, her voice soft, the words as much for herself as they were for Lexa. She wanted to reach across the divide between them, to somehow ease the burden that Lexa carried, a burden Clarke knew all too well.

The moment stretched on, but before Clarke could offer more comfort, Lexa quickly stepped back, a flicker of discomfort flashing in her eyes.
“I should probably get you back to your quarters. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired,” Lexa said, her voice steady again, the walls returning.
Clarke could feel the shift, the sudden distance. But she didn’t push. She understood.

The two of them made their way back toward the heart of the city in silence. The only sound was the crunch of the dirt beneath their feet as they walked. Neither of them spoke, but the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a kind of understanding, an unspoken bond forged in shared grief. They both knew the weight of loss, even if their losses were different.

It wasn’t long before they reached Clarke’s quarters. Lexa stopped at the door, her posture rigid but her gaze softer than usual.

“Thank you for tonight, Commander,” Clarke said, turning to face her. She had learned so much about Lexa in the short time they had spent together—more than she ever expected.

Lexa’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, the kind of smile that held so many layers behind it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I’ll show you the city during the day sometime—perhaps even the sauna rooms,” she teased lightly, her voice warmer than before.

Clarke smiled back, a small, wistful smile. “I would like that very much. Goodnight, Commander.”

“Goodnight, Clarke, kom Skaikru,” Lexa replied, her words a soft, respectful farewell.

And with that, Lexa turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the night. Clarke stood in the doorway, watching her leave, the emptiness of her room suddenly more pronounced.

As the door closed behind her, Clarke felt an unfamiliar ache in her chest. It wasn’t just the loneliness of being in an empty room; it was the longing to see Lexa again, to understand her more, to be a part of the quiet moments Lexa had shared. It wasn’t something Clarke had expected, but she couldn’t deny it.

She leaned against the door for a moment, letting the silence wash over her. What is this? she wondered. The thought lingered, unanswered, as she stood there alone in the stillness, wishing for something more—something that felt like it was just out of reach.

Chapter Text

Lexa Pov

The night tour of the city went better than Lexa had anticipated. She had feared the awkwardness lingering between herself and Clarke might overshadow the evening, but instead, a tentative ease settled between them. Clarke was engaged, even teasing at times, her curiosity both genuine and infectious. It surprised Lexa how disarming it was, this sense of normalcy she hadn’t felt in years. For a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to feel lighter, as if the crushing weight of leadership could be momentarily set aside.

They strolled through the stillness of Polis, its usual hum of activity replaced by a dreamlike quiet. The training grounds, normally alive with the clash of weapons, lay silent under the glow of the moon. The marketplace, bustling in the daylight with traders and goods from all clans, now seemed almost sacred in its emptiness.

Lexa had guided Clarke through narrow alleys and hidden corners of the city, places that few knew existed. She hadn’t shared these spots with anyone since Costia. Those memories were bittersweet, but tonight they brought a surprising sense of clarity. For once, the ache in her chest softened, allowing her to recall the good times without being swallowed by guilt. She imagined Costia would have liked Clarke—her fire, her compassion. It comforted Lexa to think Costia would have approved.

Clarke brought something else, though, something Lexa hadn’t dared hope for again: a dream of a future. A future where the weight of the commander wasn’t hers alone to carry. Sharing these sacred spaces with Clarke felt different, almost as though, for a few hours, Lexa could simply be a person—not the Commander.

The next morning arrived far too quickly. Lexa rose early, the meeting that would determine Skaikru’s fate looming on her mind. She felt confident in the decision she had made, but the unpredictability of the ambassadors gnawed at her.

The meeting wasn’t scheduled until late morning, giving her time to prepare. Ordinarily, she might have sparred to clear her head, but today she chose instead to pore over maps in her quarters. These intricate sketches had always fascinated her, a passion born long before she became Commander.

She remembered the two months leading up to her conclave, spent charting the vast lands of the coalition. Every river, mountain, and meadow etched into her memory. Back then, it had been her escape—from the bonds she shared with her fellow novitiates, from the relationships that would only make her heart ache when the time came to fight them. It was also a way to distance herself from Costia, who had ended their relationship in what she now recognized as an act of selflessness. At the time, Lexa hadn’t understood the depth of that sacrifice.

The maps grounded her, providing structure in a world where so little felt certain. As the morning wore on, however, duty called.

Soon, it was time to prepare for what she hoped would be an uneventful council meeting. Donning her ceremonial attire, she made her way to the chambers, her steps measured and deliberate. The low murmur of voices filtered through the doors as she approached. Pausing, she took a deep breath to steady herself before stepping into the room.

The air inside was thick with tension. Ambassadors were seated, some leaning into whispered conversations, others casting glances of barely veiled hostility. Lexa strode purposefully to her throne, her presence commanding enough to quiet the room.

Titus was already at his place beside her, but Anya was noticeably absent. The corner of Lexa’s mouth twitched in irritation. Anya had likely told Titus about what transpired the night before. Wonderful.

Her eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on Clarke, whose expression was tight with frustration. Something had happened before Lexa arrived, though what it was, she couldn’t yet discern.

“Order,” Lexa commanded, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Before we begin, let me make it clear—this is a place of discussion, not discord. Know your place.”

She paused, ensuring her words carried weight, then gestured toward Clarke. “Skaikru will have the floor to present the technology they wish to offer. Then we shall discuss.”

Clarke wasted no time stepping forward. “Thank you, Commander,” she said, her tone polite but firm.

Clarke turned to face the council, her eyes steady as she addressed them. “Thank you for taking the time to hear us out. I know many of you are skeptical of Skaikru, and with good reason. But I assure you, we want the same thing as all of you—a united coalition where everyone can thrive. As promised, we’ve brought technology to demonstrate its potential benefits. Raven, if you would?”

Raven limped forward, her expression determined as she addressed the council. “The first piece of technology we want to share is a radio,” she began, her voice clear and confident.

Lexa tried to focus, but her attention kept drifting back to Clarke. Seeing her here, in the very heart of Lexa’s world, felt surreal. The night they shared had only deepened something Lexa wasn’t ready to name. She was jolted from her thoughts by Titus, who leaned in to whisper.

“This won’t work,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Lexa tensed but kept her gaze forward. “I know you disapprove,” she replied softly.

Titus’ disapproval was no surprise. His adherence to tradition often clashed with her vision for the coalition. Still, his doubt stung. Despite everything, he had been her mentor, harder on her than anyone else but always pushing her to excel.

“Are you truly willing to risk everything for this?” Titus pressed, not defiant but resolute.

The question irritated her, a spark of anger igniting deep within. Meeting Clarke’s eyes across the room, Lexa saw concern there. Clarke couldn’t hear their conversation, but she was clearly aware of its weight.

“Enough, Titus,” Lexa warned, her voice carrying just enough force to end the matter. She knew his loyalty to her was unwavering, but his fear of change would always keep them at odds.

As the demonstrations continued, the energy in the room began to shift. The initial skepticism among the ambassadors dwindled, replaced by growing curiosity and, in some cases, cautious enthusiasm. Raven’s calm explanations and hands-on approach bridged gaps in understanding, allowing even the most skeptical to see the potential of Skaikru’s technology.

Lexa’s gaze occasionally drifted toward Clarke, who stood near Raven, her expression a mixture of pride and nervous anticipation. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for the usually composed leader, and it warmed Lexa in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Clarke’s confidence in Raven was clear, and the spark in her eyes as Raven captivated the council was infectious.

Not all reactions mirrored that optimism.

Kol kom Sankru sat back in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the radio in front of him, his disdain palpable. Roan, the Azgeda prince, had been silent for most of the demonstration, his jaw clenched as he observed the proceedings with icy calculation. Though the two refrained from speaking, their shared resistance weighed heavily in the room.

As Raven concluded with the final piece of technology—a water filtration system—Lexa raised her hand, signaling for silence. The murmurs quieted as all eyes turned to her.

"Thank you, Raven kom Skaikru," Lexa said, her voice steady and commanding. "You have done well to present the value of your offerings. Now, we will open the floor to discussion."

A ripple of whispers moved through the room as the ambassadors exchanged glances. Lexa’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Kol straightened in his seat, clearly preparing to speak. She braced herself.

Kol’s voice rang out, cutting through the quiet. "Commander, while the technology they’ve presented is... interesting, it does not erase the fact that Skaikru are outsiders. They are not of the land, not of the blood, and they know nothing of our ways. Why should we allow them into the coalition when they have given us no reason to trust them?"

The sentiment found echoes in the room. A few ambassadors nodded in agreement, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable. Clarke stiffened visibly at Kol’s words, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Lexa caught the flicker of frustration in Clarke’s eyes but held her gaze, willing her to remain calm. This was not Clarke’s battle to fight—it was Lexa’s.

Roan leaned forward, his deep voice cutting through the growing tension. "I must agree with Kol. Azgeda has long been a cornerstone of this coalition, and we have paid for that position in blood. Skaikru offers us knickknacks and trinkets, but what guarantees do we have that they won’t turn on us the moment it suits them? They came from the sky, and their loyalties are still to themselves."

Lexa’s jaw tightened, but her voice was cold and measured when she responded. "Azgeda is quick to forget that it has turned on the coalition before."
Her words silenced the room, Roan included. His sharp gaze bore into her, but she refused to flinch.

"Skaikru’s technology offers solutions to problems that plague all clans," Lexa continued. "Problems your people face as well. They have shown their willingness to work alongside us, and they understand the value of unity—something I expect all here to appreciate."

Roan’s lips twitched, though he said nothing. Kol, however, wasn’t so easily silenced.

"They may understand unity, Commander," he said, his tone dripping with disdain, "but do they understand sacrifice? Every clan here has bled for their place in the coalition. Skaikru offers convenience, but convenience is not what binds us."

Rising from her throne, Lexa let the weight of her authority settle over the room. The tension thickened, but all fell silent under her commanding presence.

"Skaikru has proven their understanding of sacrifice," Lexa said, her voice deliberate and unyielding. "Their people have faced trials none of us can fully comprehend. They came from the stars to a world they did not know, yet they have fought to survive, to adapt, and now, to contribute."

She swept her gaze across the room, pausing briefly on Kol and Roan before continuing. "Unity is not built on blood alone. It is built on trust, on shared purpose, and on strength. Skaikru offers us strength—not only in their technology but in their determination. To deny them would not be an act of wisdom but of fear."

A hush fell over the chamber. Lexa’s words lingered, heavy and undeniable.

Clarke’s eyes remained locked on Lexa, awe and gratitude flickering in their depths. Lexa refused to acknowledge the warmth it stirred in her. This was about more than Clarke or Skaikru—it was about the coalition’s survival.

Indra, silent until now, stood. Her voice was firm as she addressed the room. "Trikru supports Skaikru’s inclusion in the coalition. Their technology will save lives, and their people have proven they are willing to learn our ways."

One by one, other ambassadors began to voice their support—Louwoda Kliron, Floukru, even the fiercely independent Sankru. Slowly, the tide turned. When the majority was reached, Lexa allowed herself a small, measured breath of relief.

Kol stood abruptly, his face dark with anger. "This is a mistake," he spat. "Mark my words, Commander. They will betray you, and when they do, the blood will be on your hands."

Roan rose as well, his demeanor less volatile but no less imposing. "Azgeda will abide by the decision," he said, his voice cold. "But know this—our patience has limits."

Lexa’s gaze was steady as she met Roan’s eyes. "Noted," she replied curtly. "We will meet here tonight for the official ceremony to welcome Skaikru as the thirteenth clan. Until then, you are dismissed."

As the room emptied, Clarke lingered. She approached Lexa cautiously, her expression a mixture of relief and gratitude.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For standing up for us."

Lexa inclined her head. "Your people have earned their place. But understand this, Clarke: the coalition is not without its trials. You and your people will need to prove yourselves every day."

Clarke nodded solemnly. "We will."

Lexa hesitated, then offered, "Why don’t I give you and your people a tour of Polis now that the decision has been made for you to join the coalition?"
Clarke smirked. "It’s about time."

Lexa frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"

Catching the Commander’s confusion, Clarke shook her head with a small laugh. "Never mind. I’ll inform my people about the tour and meet you shortly."

Lexa watched her leave, her mind already racing with the challenges ahead. The coalition had been preserved for now, but today was a reminder of how fragile alliances could be. Kol and Roan weren’t finished causing trouble—not by a long shot.

Arriving at Skaikru’s quarters, Lexa felt the cool breeze meet her skin. It was a welcome reprieve after spending the day in the chambers. The fresh air was invigorating, a stark contrast to the stifling, recycled air of the chamber room.

Before she even had the chance to walk up the steps, Clarke appeared, stepping out of the building. Lexa’s breath caught in her throat, a reaction she couldn’t quite suppress. Clarke looked as stunning as ever. Behind her followed Raven, Octavia, Bellamy—whose scowl deepened the moment his gaze met Lexa’s—Kane, and Abby.

“Skaikru, I apologize for the delay in giving you an official tour of the city,” Lexa began, her tone formal as she addressed the small group.
Kane stepped forward with a diplomatic nod. “No need to apologize, Commander. We appreciate your hospitality.”

“Of course,” Lexa replied. She motioned toward the woman at her side. “Skaikru, this is Anya kom Trikru. She will accompany us on the tour today. Anya will act as your advisor for the next few weeks as you adjust to joining the Coalition. She possesses insider knowledge that will help you navigate this transition.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke, trying to read her expression. Clarke’s face was stoic, but her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions Lexa couldn’t fully interpret. Was it hurt? Anger? Confusion? Lexa felt a flicker of uncertainty. She had convinced Anya to take on this role specifically to support Clarke and her people. Favoritism was a dangerous perception for a leader, so Anya would be the one to guide Skaikru through their integration, explaining clan histories and offering assistance. Convincing Anya had been no small feat, but in the end, she’d agreed. Yet, Clarke didn’t seem particularly pleased.
“Now,” Lexa continued, “let’s begin. It will be dark soon, and we have the ceremony to attend.” She turned and began leading the group into the city, her guards flanking her.

The streets were bustling with activity, this being the busiest time of day. Merchants called out to passersby, children ran between stalls, and the rich aroma of food hung heavy in the air. Lexa’s guards kept a protective distance around her—a routine precaution. For Lexa, solitude was a rarity, and even moments like these required layers of security.

As they entered deeper into the city, the crowd’s focus shifted. People paused to bow in respect, and some approached cautiously, their reverence clear. The guards worked to keep the masses at bay, but the attention was still overwhelming. Lexa tried not to let it show, though the closeness of so many bodies always left her feeling slightly claustrophobic.

Only the children dared to approach too closely. Their innocence amused Lexa, even if their excitement occasionally bordered on disruptive.
“This is the Square,” Lexa explained, pausing to let the group take in the vibrant marketplace. She gestured to the array of stalls. “This is where merchants and travelers set up to sell their goods. If you take a deep breath, you’ll notice the many smells—spices, roasted meats, fresh breads. It is the heart of the city’s trade.”

“Wow, this is amazing,” Kane said, his admiration clear.

Lexa nodded in acknowledgment, but her gaze lingered on Clarke. She couldn’t help herself. Out of everyone in the group, Clarke held her attention the longest. The look of wonder in Clarke’s eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Clarke murmured, her words more for herself than anyone else.

Before Lexa could respond, Anya spoke. “I’m glad you find it fascinating, Clarke kom Skaikru.”

Clarke turned toward Anya, offering a polite but distant smile. It wasn’t rude, but it lacked Clarke’s usual warmth. Lexa frowned slightly, her confusion deepening. Clarke had always been so composed, but this interaction felt strained.

A merchant approached, holding out a tray with small bites of a savory-smelling meat. The group eagerly accepted, passing the samples around.

“This is fantastic,” Raven said, her delight evident as she popped the food into her mouth. “It’s so flavorful. I’ve never had anything like it!”

“It’s the spices,” Clarke explained with a small smile.

“What’s that?” Octavia asked.

“They’re herbs and plants that add flavor to food,” Clarke replied.

“Spices would’ve been a life-changer on the Ark,” Raven said wistfully, savoring the last bite.

As the group lingered, the crowd’s attention grew, whispers and murmurs rippling through the marketplace. Lexa noticed Clarke’s shoulders tense, her unease visible.

“Why don’t we make our way to the training center?” Lexa suggested, her tone calm and steady. “The novitiates should be sparring with Titus now.”
Relieved, Clarke nodded, and the group moved on, leaving the bustling square behind.

Walking down the dirt road, Lexa and Clarke naturally fell into step beside each other.

“Sorry about the crowd,” Lexa said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

Clarke glanced at her, offering the faintest nod of appreciation. Though she said nothing, Lexa understood her gratitude.

As they approached the training center, the sound of clashing metal greeted them. Inside, young novitiates were engaged in sparring, their wooden swords striking in precise, practiced movements. Titus noticed their arrival, his gaze flickering warily over the Skaikru delegation.

“Heda,” he greeted, bowing slightly.

“Titus,” Lexa replied, her tone cool. “I brought Skaikru to observe the novitiates.”

Titus hesitated. “Are you sure—”

“Hod op,” Lexa interrupted sharply. Her commanding tone left no room for argument. Titus stepped back, murmuring an apology.

Lexa turned her attention to the novitiates, calling them to gather. “Novitiates, come,” she commanded. The young warriors hurried to form a circle around her. “I would like to introduce you to Wanheda,” she said, gesturing to Clarke.

Clarke offered a warm smile. “Hi,” she greeted, crouching slightly to meet the gaze of a shy girl at the front. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Madi kom Louwoda Kliron,” the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Madi, what did we discuss?” Titus scolded, reminding her that novitiates belonged to no clan.

“It’s nice to meet you, Madi,” Clarke said kindly, ignoring Titus’s reprimand.

One by one, Clarke introduced herself to each novitiate, her warmth putting them at ease. Lexa watched with quiet pride—and a twinge of sorrow. These children were the future of her people, but most of them would not live to see it. It was a sobering truth she carried every day.'

Once the introductions were complete, Lexa addressed Titus. “Set up 1v1 combat,” she instructed.

Titus nodded, and the novitiates paired off, their wooden swords clashing as training resumed.

“They’re a little young, aren’t they?” Abby asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Most begin training as soon as they can walk,” Lexa explained. “But the novitiates are held to a higher standard. They are being prepared for leadership—and survival.”

Clarke tilted her head, her voice soft with curiosity. “Do you think they’ll surpass you one day?”

“They will,” Lexa said firmly. “That is the way of our people. Leaders must always be replaced by those stronger and wiser. It is inevitable.”
Clarke studied her, a quiet understanding in her gaze. “Do you ever worry someone might replace you too soon?”

Lexa hesitated, but only briefly. “It’s my duty to prepare them, no matter what. That is what it means to lead.”

Clarke nodded, her eyes lingering on Lexa. In that moment, Lexa wondered if Clarke was beginning to see her not just as a leader, but as a person shaped by sacrifice and burden.

They stood silently, watching the novitiates spar. The rhythmic clatter of wooden swords and the occasional grunt of effort filled the air. Lexa observed with a practiced eye. The young warriors’ skills were developing nicely, their movements more precise and confident than before.

Raven had made her way to the front, her curiosity pulling her closer to the action. She leaned forward, analyzing the fighters’ techniques with keen interest.

“You did well today,” Lexa said, her voice steady but with an undertone of approval.

Raven blinked, startled by the unexpected praise. “Thank you,” she managed, her voice tinged with surprise.

Clarke’s gaze flicked to Lexa, clearly caught off guard by the exchange. Lexa, however, didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes, keeping her focus on Raven. Clarke could only wonder what had prompted Lexa’s acknowledgment. The Commander wasn’t one to give compliments lightly.

Lexa wasn’t used to such gestures herself, but she was learning to adapt. Praising others was a part of Skaikru culture—an act she had come to realize strengthened bonds.

“Let’s continue,” Lexa said after a few more moments, her commanding tone signaling it was time to move on.

Lexa and Anya led the group deeper into the city, pointing out various shops and services along the way. The Skaikru members appeared captivated, their curiosity evident in the flurry of questions Kane and Abby posed. The vibrancy of the city, with its bustling streets and rich culture, seemed to enchant them.

Yet Clarke had grown uncharacteristically quiet since their stop at the training center. Lexa couldn’t help but notice. Had she said something to upset her? The question lingered, gnawing at the back of her mind. But Lexa pushed it aside—she didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on personal feelings right now.

Their tour was interrupted when Ryder, one of Lexa’s most loyal advisors and guards, approached the group. His usually composed expression was tinged with urgency.

“Heda,” Ryder greeted, bowing slightly.

Lexa’s brows furrowed. Ryder’s presence—and his unease—immediately set her on edge. “What is it?” she asked, her tone sharp.
Ryder hesitated before responding. “May I speak to you in private?”

Lexa nodded, excusing herself from the group with a brief word. She led Ryder a safe distance away, ensuring the Skaikru wouldn’t overhear.
“What’s happened?” she demanded, her voice low but firm.

“I’ve just received word,” Ryder began cautiously, “that Sankru has cut off trade with the surrounding clans. They’ve isolated themselves completely and are threatening to kill anyone who crosses into their territory.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. Could they not have even a few months of peace? She met Ryder’s eyes and saw his hesitation to continue.

“Spit it out,” she ordered, her patience wearing thin.

“Heda,” Ryder said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, “there are rumors that Ahriman spirit has been set free. They say he is the cause of Sankru’s isolation.”

Lexa felt the blood drain from her face. The name alone was enough to send a chill through her. Ahriman—an ancient force of destruction and chaos, whose wrath had once brought the clans to the brink of annihilation. Lexa had only ever heard the stories, passed down as both warning and legend. It was said that Ormazd, the first Wanheda, had defeated Ahriman long ago.

Her mind raced. This was more than she had anticipated, more than the backlash she’d expected for bringing Skaikru into the Coalition. If the rumors were true, the consequences could be catastrophic.

Taking a steadying breath, Lexa forced herself to focus. “Detain the Sankru ambassador immediately,” she ordered. “Keep this quiet—between us.”
Ryder nodded and turned to leave, but Lexa stopped him with a word.

“And, Ryder,” she added, her voice sharp, “don’t let Kol out of your sight. He has a habit of slipping away when it suits him.”

Ryder acknowledged the command with a slight bow and disappeared into the crowded streets.

Lexa lingered for a moment, allowing her anger to simmer beneath the surface. She wanted to rage, to demand answers, but she knew there was no time for such indulgences. Instead, she took another deep breath, forcing herself to regain composure before returning to the group.

When she rejoined them, she found Anya had continued the tour in her absence. But the moment Lexa appeared, the group exchanged glances of concern and curiosity. Lexa avoided their gazes, particularly Clarke’s. She knew the blonde would see through her carefully guarded expression in an instant.

“It seems we’re running low on time,” Lexa said, her tone brisk. “I’ll allow you to return to your quarters to prepare for the ceremony tonight. Are we clear on what is expected?” Her words were directed toward the group, but her eyes rested on Clarke.

Abby stepped forward, placing a hand on Clarke’s arm before responding. “Yes, Commander. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

Lexa nodded slightly but kept her focus on Clarke, waiting for her acknowledgment.The weight of the moment was unmistakable. Everything depended on Clarke’s cooperation tonight. If Clarke refused to bow, it would be seen as a direct insult to Lexa’s authority—a provocation the clans would not tolerate. It could spark another war, one that Lexa wasn’t sure she could prevent.

Clarke’s jaw was tight, her displeasure evident. Lexa could see the disdain in her eyes, the lingering resentment Clarke still harbored. Lexa didn’t blame her, but she knew Clarke needed to set her emotions aside for the sake of her people—and what would soon become their shared people.
After a long, tense moment, Clarke gave a reluctant nod.

Lexa inclined her head in return. “Anya will escort you back to your quarters. I will see you all tonight.”

With that, Lexa turned on her heel and left, motioning for another guard to accompany Skaikru. She couldn’t risk anything happening to Clarke or her people.

As she maneuvered through the city streets, Lexa’s thoughts churned. Upon reaching the tower, she descended to the ground floor, entering the restricted temple area. The air was thick with mist, and the faint scent of herbs lingered as she stepped into the final chamber.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by the soft glow of candles. A pool of warm water lay at its center, steam curling lazily above its surface. Lexa undressed and slipped into the water, letting its warmth envelop her.

She needed clarity. She needed the guidance of the past Commanders. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to sink deeper into the water, the stillness offering a fleeting reprieve from the chaos in her mind.

How had it come to this? How could she save her people—and herself—from the storm that was rapidly approaching?

Chapter Text

Clarkes pov

Clarke knew something was wrong the moment Lexa returned from her conversation with Ryder. The tension in her posture, the fire in her eyes—it was unmistakable. Lexa was upset, but beneath that, Clarke could sense worry. Whatever it was, it was significant.

She wanted to question her right there, press until Lexa gave her answers, but she held back. With the ceremony looming in just a couple of hours, Clarke knew it wasn’t the time. Lexa needed to focus on whatever problem had come up, and Clarke needed to focus on preparing for the event.

Still, it nagged at her.

After Lexa excused herself, Clarke lingered with her thoughts until Bellamy’s voice cut through them.

“What do you think that was about?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they followed Anya guiding the group back to their quarters.

“Something important,” Clarke replied, her tone firmer than she intended. She didn’t want to invite speculation, not when tensions were already high.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “You’re not curious?”

Clarke shot him a look. “Of course, I’m curious, but I’m not about to go stirring up trouble right now. There’s enough to deal with.”
Bellamy smirked slightly but didn’t press. Instead, he shifted topics. “So, are you ready for tonight?”

Clarke glanced at him, trying to read the layers beneath the question. She knew he didn’t trust Lexa, but he was loyal to her. That much she could count on.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, her voice steady. “What about you?”

Bellamy shrugged. “If you decide at any point this isn’t what you want, just say the word. I’ll get you out of there. No questions asked.”

His sincerity warmed her, even as it made her chest tighten. “Thanks, Bell. But I’ll be fine.” She hoped she meant it.

Once the group dispersed, Clarke made her way back to her room in the tower. She hadn’t given much thought to what she’d wear, but it was clear this ceremony required something more than her usual attire.

When she opened the door, her eyes immediately landed on the dress spread across her bed. It was stunning—simple yet elegant, the kind of garment that seemed to command attention without
trying.

Clarke’s cheeks warmed as a thought crossed her mind: Did Lexa pick this out for me? She quickly shook the idea away but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

The dress fit perfectly.

She was still admiring it in the mirror when a soft knock came at the door.

“Wanheda,” came a small voice.

Clarke opened the door to find Madi standing there, bowing slightly. The girl looked nervous but determined.

“Madi?” Clarke said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been assigned to help you prepare for the ceremony,” Madi replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, you’re just in time. Come in—and please, call me Clarke,” she said, offering an encouraging smile.

Once inside, Madi visibly relaxed. Clarke turned to her with a curious look. “What do you think of the dress?”

Madi’s face lit up. “It’s beautiful,” she said, running her fingers lightly over the soft fabric.

“Any ideas on how I should do my hair?” Clarke asked, trying to put her at ease.

Madi hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I can braid it, if you’d like.”

Clarke agreed, watching in the mirror as Madi worked. The girl’s hands were skilled but gentle, weaving intricate braids with ease. Clarke couldn’t help but notice how much Madi reminded her of
Lexa—though less guarded and far more eager to please.

When Madi finished, Clarke barely recognized herself. The reflection staring back at her looked poised and powerful, like someone who was ready to face whatever came next.

The ceremonial room was breathtaking. Candles lined every surface, casting a warm, golden glow. Soft, melodic singing filled the air, blending with the hum of quiet conversation among the
gathered clans.

Clarke entered with her people, trying to project confidence as she led the group forward. Her focus was on the room, but her gaze inevitably found Lexa.

The Commander stood at the head of the assembly, her presence commanding yet serene. Lexa looked regal, every inch the leader, and Clarke’s breath caught as their eyes met. For a moment,
the noise and movement around her faded away.

As Clarke approached, she knelt before Lexa, bowing her head. The murmurs of the crowd swirled around her, but she didn’t care. What surprised her most was how natural it felt. Bowing wasn’t a sign of submission—it was a release. It felt as though she was sharing the burden of her people with Lexa, trusting her to carry it too.

When she rose, Lexa’s voice filled the room.

“We welcome Skaikru to our halls in the spirit of unity and peace. Most importantly, we welcome Clarke kom Skaikru, Wanheda, Mountain Slayer,” Lexa announced, her tone steady and commanding. “Tonight, Skaikru joins the coalition as the thirteenth clan.”

Clarke’s chest tightened as Lexa continued, her voice unwavering.

“To seal this alliance, your leader must bear our mark. Chancellor.”

Abby stepped forward, her expression composed despite the tension in her shoulders. Clarke’s heart ached to go to her, to offer comfort, but she stayed rooted in place.
The branding was over in moments, though it felt like an eternity. Abby barely flinched, and Clarke’s pride in her mother swelled.

When the ceremony ended, Lexa departed quickly, disappearing before Clarke could approach her.

Back in her room, Clarke collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion finally caught up with her. The events of the past week weighed heavily on her: returning to Camp Jaha, losing Niylah, taking up the mantle of leadership once again, and now this alliance with Lexa.

And then there was Lexa herself.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, sitting up.

Lexa entered, her expression softer than usual, though the weight of the day was still visible in her eyes.

“Clarke,” she began, her voice low. “May I speak with you?”

Clarke nodded, gesturing for her to sit, though Lexa remained standing.

“I wanted to thank you,” Lexa said.

“For what?”

“For convincing your people to join the coalition,” Lexa replied.

Clarke shook her head. “I did it because it was the best choice for my people.”

“Our people,” Lexa corrected gently.

The words stung, pulling at the memories of Mount Weather and Lexa’s betrayal. Clarke’s jaw tightened as she met Lexa’s gaze.

“If you betray me again…”

“I won’t,” Lexa said firmly, her voice unwavering.

Clarke believed her. Against all logic, she believed her.

What happened next left Clarke speechless. Lexa knelt before her.

“I swear fealty to you, Clarke kom Skaikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own and your people as my people.”

It was a promise unlike any Clarke had ever heard. For a moment, she stared, her mind racing to process the sight of Lexa kneeling before her. Finally, she extended a hand, pulling Lexa to her feet.

“I believe you,” Clarke said quietly, more to herself than to Lexa.

But the peace of the moment was short-lived.

“What were you and Ryder talking about earlier?” Clarke asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, but the undercurrent of curiosity—and suspicion—was unmistakable.
Lexa let out a breath, her lips quirking into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “How did I know you’d say that?”

But the humor didn’t reach her eyes. It’s clear Clarke didn’t find her deflection of the question acceptable.

Lexa hesitated, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor. “It’s not something you need to worry about right now.”

Clarke frowned, stepping closer. “Lexa, if we’re going to make this work, you need to be honest with me. No more secrets.”

“This?” Lexa questioned, her tone low and cautious, her expression unreadable.

Clarke felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks. “I mean the continuation of Skaikru’s support—my support,” Clarke clarified, her voice sharper than she intended.

Lexa tilted her head, studying Clarke for a moment. “Your support has never been in question,” she said softly, though the weight behind her words suggested otherwise.

Letting out a long sigh, Lexa turned and made her way out to the balcony. Clarke hesitated but followed, keeping a few steps behind. She watched as Lexa leaned on the railing, her eyes scanning the city of Polis below, the flickering lights a stark contrast to the storm in Clarke’s chest.

“Lexa, what’s going on?” Clarke pressed, her voice softer now.

The Commander was silent for a long moment before speaking. “What do you know about the history of Wanheda?” she asked, her voice carrying the gravity of someone treading dangerous ground.

“Um, not much,” Clarke admitted. “Other than the title. It means ‘Commander of Death,’ right?”

Lexa nodded, her jaw tightening as if she were preparing herself. “In the ancient stories, there are two primordial spirits: Ormazd and Ahriman. Ormazd is the Spirit of Good—the creator of life, light, and order. Ahriman is the Spirit of Evil, born from darkness, chaos, and destruction. They are bound together, opposites that balance one another, but their conflict has been eternal.

“Long ago, Ormazd defeated Ahriman, imprisoning him in a place where his dark influence could no longer reach the world. But the battle was devastating, and Ormazd was not left unscathed. A part of him was consumed by the darkness—a fragment of his essence tied to death. This made him the first Wanheda, a being neither fully good nor evil, but something… in between.”
Clarke’s brow furrowed as she absorbed the story. “Okay,” she said slowly, “but what does that have to do with me?”

Lexa turned to face her, the intensity in her gaze making Clarke’s heart skip. “After Mount Weather, you didn’t just kill to save your people. You tapped into something ancient, Clarke—something powerful. The kind of power that can reshape the world. You awakened that fragment of Ormazd’s essence. That’s why you’re Wanheda. It’s not just a title. It’s a truth about who you’ve become.”
Clarke shook her head, taking a step back. “That’s insane,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re saying I… what? Unleashed some kind of ancient power? Woke up a piece of some spirit? Lexa, do you hear yourself?”

Lexa stepped closer, her expression calm but urgent. “Clarke, listen to me. This is not about blame. This is about understanding the role you now play in our world. Wanheda is not just a leader who takes life. You carry both the weight of death and the responsibility to wield it wisely. But that power—”

“Stop!” Clarke interrupted, her voice cracking with fury. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that what I did at Mount Weather—that all those lives I took—was destiny! I didn’t want to be Wanheda. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“Neither did Ormazd,” Lexa said softly, her eyes piercing.

The words struck Clarke like a blow, but they only fueled her anger. “And what about you, Lexa? What role did you play in this ‘destiny’? You left me to clean up your mess at Mount Weather. If anyone is responsible for this ‘awakening,’ it’s you!”

Lexa’s face paled, but she held her ground. “I know I betrayed you,” she said quietly. “I’ve carried that regret every day since. But this isn’t about blame, Clarke. It’s about what comes next.”
Clarke’s breathing grew shallow, her chest tight with the intensity of her emotions. The cold night air felt stifling, her vision blurring at the edges. “I can’t—I can’t do this,” she choked out, clutching at the railing to steady herself.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was suddenly laced with alarm. She reached out, but Clarke stumbled away.

“Don’t touch me!” Clarke shouted, her voice breaking. But even as the words left her lips, the world tilted, and her knees buckled.
The last thing she saw was Lexa rushing toward her as darkness claimed her.

When Clarke woke, the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a candle flickering nearby. Her head throbbed as she tried to piece together what had happened.
“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was quiet, tentative.

Clarke turned her head, squinting to see Lexa sitting at the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of worry and guilt.

“What happened?” Clarke murmured, her voice hoarse.

“You fainted,” Lexa said simply. “Your body was overwhelmed.”

Clarke sat up too quickly, wincing as pain shot through her head. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though the groan that followed betrayed her.
“You need to rest,” Lexa insisted, her tone soft but firm.

Clarke shot her a glare, lying back down and covering her face with her arm. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

Lexa didn’t move. “You did,” she said after a pause. “But I won’t leave you like this.”

Clarke felt the sting of those words, but she was too tired to argue. “Why are you even here, Lexa?” she whispered.

Lexa didn’t answer right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy with emotion. “Because I care about you, Clarke. More than you know. And whether you accept it or not, we are bound together in this. I won’t abandon you again.”

Clarke’s throat tightened, but she didn’t respond.

“I’ll have herbs and tea sent up to help with the pain,” Lexa said after a moment. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. For now, sleep.”
And then she was gone, leaving Clarke alone with her racing thoughts.

As Clarke sipped the tea and drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered: Why me?

______

The rain poured relentlessly, each icy drop piercing Clarke’s skin like needles. The cold bit deep, and her breath came out in ragged clouds as she stumbled through the forest. The wind howled through the trees, whipping at her hair and tugging at her clothes. The dense canopy above blotted out the sky, but flashes of lightning illuminated her path, each strike followed by a booming thunderclap that made her heart jump.

Her chest heaved as she ran, the uneven terrain beneath her feet threatening to trip her with every step. The underbrush snagged at her legs, and gnarled roots jutted out like claws. She had to keep going—she didn’t know why, but she had to make it out of the woods. Somewhere beyond the trees lay answers.

Finally, Clarke broke through the treeline, tumbling into an open field. She froze. Everything here was eerily still. The rain stopped abruptly. The wind ceased its relentless assault. The tall grass stood motionless, like statues in a forgotten world. The silence pressed against her ears, a deafening absence of sound.

In the distance, two figures stood facing each other. Behind each stood a vast army, their ranks bristling with weapons. Clarke couldn’t make out the faces of the leaders, but their voices carried across the stillness.

“Please, we don’t have to do this, brother!” one of them called out, his voice desperate and heavy with sorrow.

“It’s too late for that,” the other replied coldly. His voice was sharp, laced with bitterness and anger that seemed to cut through the air like a blade.
“It’s never too late!” the first pleaded, taking a step forward. “We can still stop this!”

The second brother shook his head, his jaw tight with resolve. Slowly, he raised his hand, and the signal to attack was given.

The armies roared to life, charging across the field with weapons raised. The clash was immediate and thunderous. Swords met shields, arrows rained from the sky, and cries of pain filled the air. Clarke’s instincts screamed at her to run, and she turned back toward the forest—but suddenly, the battlefield shifted.

She was no longer on the edge of the field. Clarke found herself standing in its center, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of fallen warriors. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the silence was oppressive once more. Only the two brothers remained, their once-pristine armor now battered and smeared with blood.

“You should have given me what I wanted!” the dark-haired brother bellowed, his face twisted with rage. He raised his sword, its blade gleaming ominously despite the dim light.

“You know I can’t let you do this,” the other said softly. There was no anger in his voice, only sadness and resolve. He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing firmly against the earth.
The ground beneath them began to tremble, a low rumble that quickly grew into a violent quake. The dark-haired brother faltered, his eyes wide with realization.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

The kneeling brother didn’t respond. His focus was absolute, his fingers digging into the soil as the trembling intensified. Cracks spidered out from where he knelt, splitting the ground apart.
The dark-haired brother charged, roaring in fury, his sword raised high. Just as he reached his brother, the earth erupted. A jagged chasm tore through the battlefield, swallowing the ground between them. The attacker skidded to a halt, his balance wavering as the fissure widened.

“No!” he screamed, turning to flee. But the ground beneath him buckled, and with a cry of desperation, he plummeted into the abyss.

The kneeling brother rose to his feet, his expression hollow as he gazed into the dark void. His brother’s screams echoed faintly before being swallowed by silence.
The once-bright field dimmed, shadows creeping over the horizon. Clarke felt herself being drawn closer to the chasm, as if invisible hands were pulling her toward its edge. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The kneeling brother turned toward her, his eyes glowing faintly with a golden light.

“This is the cost,” he whispered, his voice a haunting echo. “The light must endure... but only if the dark is contained.”

Clarke gasped, her heart pounding as the ground beneath her gave way. She fell into darkness, the chasm swallowing her whole.

_________

Clarke jolted upright, gasping for breath. The dim light of the candle cast flickering shadows across the walls, but the room felt oppressively dark, as if the remnants of the dream clung to her. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her chest heaved as if she’d just sprinted through the forest again.

She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, her skin slick with sweat. Her heart ached, but not just from fear—it was the weight of something deeper, something ancient, that lingered in her chest.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse and shaking.

The images from the dream flashed in her mind: the rain, the forest, the brothers, the chasm. The kneeling brother’s final words echoed in her head, chilling her to the core. The light must endure... but only if the dark is contained.

But what did it mean?

Clarke swung her legs over the side of the bed, gripping the edge as the cold stone floor met her bare feet. Her headache still pulsed faintly, but she needed answers. She couldn’t let this... this thing—whatever it was—consume her.

Chapter Text

Lexa POV

Lexa sat alone in her quarters, the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows that danced across the stone walls. She cradled her head in her hands, her fingertips pressing against her temples in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing tension. The room, usually a sanctuary of calm, now felt suffocating. The weight of the day—of her words to Clarke—hung heavy in the air.

She had known Clarke would react with anger, even betrayal, but that knowledge hadn't softened the blow. Perhaps she should have waited, gathered more information, and developed a plan before revealing the truth. Now, Clarke's fury burned brighter than ever, and Lexa felt the sharp sting of that separation. Clarke's hatred, no matter how justified, cut deeper than she cared to admit.

Lexa leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the window. Beyond the thin curtain, Polis stretched into the night, its scattered lights faint and flickering like stars fallen to the ground. Somewhere, just down the hall, Clarke was likely wrestling with her own demons. Lexa hated herself for adding to that burden, for being part of the weight Clarke carried.

Her mind drifted back to her training days as a young novitiate. She could almost hear Titus's voice, low and reverent, as he recounted the tale of Wanheda's origins.

"The tale is both a warning and a prophecy," he had said, pacing before a group of wide-eyed students. "Wanheda is not merely a title for those who command death. It is the embodiment of an ancient balance, forged by the eternal struggle between light and dark. Ormazd, the Creator of Life, and Ahriman, the Destroyer, waged their war, and in their conflict, Wanheda was born—a force of death serving neither pure good nor pure evil. Such power cannot exist without consequence."

Even as a child, Lexa had found the story unsettling, its weight too heavy for young shoulders to bear. Now, it felt like a storm gathering on the horizon. Clarke wasn't just Wanheda in title; she carried the force of death in a way that radiated from her very being.

Was Clarke a victim of fate? Or was she something more—something to fear?

Lexa shook her head, dispelling the thought. It didn't matter. She had made her choice—to protect Clarke, no matter the cost. But doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve. What if protecting Clarke meant risking everything she had built—the Coalition, the fragile peace, her people? And yet, her people now included Clarke's people. More than that, they included Clarke herself.

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts. Lexa straightened immediately, her composure solidifying like armor.

"Enter," she commanded.

Indra stepped inside, her expression grave. "Heda, we have a situation. Sankru has sent a messenger."

Lexa's eyes narrowed. "Bring them to my council chambers. I'll meet with them shortly."

Rising from her chair, Lexa moved to her wardrobe. As she changed into her commander's uniform, her thoughts darkened. What could Sankru, the original clan of Ahriman, possibly want? Her anger flared as she thought of Kol's escape from Polis. Despite her efforts, he had slipped through her grasp, leaving her warriors to track him with little hope of success.

Once dressed, Lexa made her way to the council chamber, her steps measured, her mind racing. By the time she reached the room, she was a picture of calm authority, though the unease simmered beneath her surface.

She stood at the head of the war table, her hands braced against the polished wood as the Sankru messenger entered. He was tall and lean, his skin bronzed from the desert sun, dressed in flowing crimson-and-gold robes that marked his allegiance. His sharp eyes gleamed as they swept across the room.

The silence was palpable, broken only by the soft shuffle of his boots against the floor. Indra stood beside Lexa, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Ryder lingered in the shadows, his piercing gaze locked on the intruder.

The messenger halted a few paces away and inclined his head in a shallow bow. "Heda," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "I come bearing a message from Sankru."

"Speak," Lexa commanded, her tone cool, her expression unreadable.

The messenger's lips curved into a faint smile. "Wanheda belongs to us."

Lexa felt her breath hitch, but she schooled her features into an impassive mask. Clarke belonged to no one.

"Explain," she said, her voice sharp but controlled, though her fury churned beneath the surface.

The messenger clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. "Wanheda is not merely the commander of death. She is the other half of Ahriman. The events at Mount Weather were no coincidence, Heda. Your Sky Person unlocked something ancient, something powerful. That power belongs to Sankru—the first and only true servants of Ahriman."

Lexa's jaw tightened, but she kept her tone steady. "The Coalition stands united under my rule. Clarke is under my protection. Wanheda serves no clan—she serves her people."

The messenger stopped pacing, his smile sharpening. "This is not a request. Clarke will come to us, willingly or not. And if you stand in our way..." He glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Indra and Ryder, "...then we will show the Coalition what loyalty to a god truly looks like."

Indra stepped forward, her voice hard as steel. "You dare threaten the Commander in her own hall?"

The messenger turned toward her, unbothered by her fury. "This is not a threat. It is a promise."

Lexa raised a hand, halting Indra's movement. She stepped closer to the messenger, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Return to your leaders. Tell them this: If Sankru marches on Polis, I will burn their desert to the ground. Not even your so-called god will save you."

Turning to her guards, Lexa commanded, "Escort him out of my city."

The guards moved forward, their grip firm as they guided the messenger away. His confident smile faltered for the first time, but he said nothing as he exited the room.

When the doors closed, Ryder spoke, his voice edged with urgency. "This won't end here. Sankru believes they're waging a holy war. They won't stop until they have Clarke—or until we stop them."

Lexa turned to face her advisors, her expression resolute. "Then we will prepare for war. Clarke will not fall into their hands."

Indra nodded in agreement, but Ryder hesitated. "What if the other clans question your decision to protect her? They may see it as weakness, Heda."

Lexa's gaze hardened. "Let them. I will not abandon Clarke."

Her voice left no room for argument, but as the room emptied, the cold knot of fear in her stomach only grew. Sankru was not just another enemy—they were an echo of ancient darkness, a reminder that even the strongest leader could not escape the pull of the past.

Later that night, Lexa descended into the restricted area of the library. The dimly lit chamber housed Polis's most sacred texts, books so old their pages crumbled at a touch. She ran her fingers along the spines, searching for answers. If Clarke was truly the key to this battle, Lexa needed to understand the power within her.

Because if they couldn't harness it, all she had built—all she had fought for—would be for nothing.

____________

"Heda."

Lexa straightened instinctively, snapping the book shut as she rose to her feet. The voice startled her, dragging her from the depths of ancient texts and back into the present. The faint crackle of the fire in the restricted library seemed louder in the sudden silence.

"Yes, Titus," she replied, her voice steady but curious as she stepped out of the dimly lit alcove where she had been reading. The library was windowless, its protective design preserving its ancient tomes, making it impossible to gauge how much time had passed.

Titus emerged from the shadows, his expression solemn yet tinged with an unfamiliar softness. "I came to see how I could be of help," he admitted.

Lexa blinked in surprise. Titus rarely offered his assistance freely these days. Their recent disagreements had strained their relationship, but she respected him deeply. After all, he had been her mentor and shaped much of who she was as Heda.

"Very well," she said, nodding toward a nearby chair by the fireplace. She settled into her own seat, her expression turning serious. "Tell me everything you know about Ormazd and Ahriman. And most importantly, Ormazd after he became Wanheda."

Titus's eyes glinted with recognition of the gravity of her request. He took a seat across from her, leaning slightly forward as if the very act of speaking these words carried weight. "Ormazd and Ahriman," he began, his voice low and deliberate, "were forces of nature, not merely men. Ormazd embodied creation—life itself. He could summon and command the elements, bending the natural world to his will. Animals spoke to him as if he were one of their own. The very balance of nature obeyed him.

"Ahriman, his twin, was his opposite in every way. His power was rooted in destruction and deceit. He could shape-shift into anything or anyone, fooling even the sharpest eyes. But his greatest strength was in controlling minds—manipulating thoughts, twisting desires, and bending others to his will. His influence was insidious, turning even the purest hearts to darkness. He was also unmatched in physical strength. Legends say he could shatter the earth with a single blow, reshape mountains with his hands."

Lexa's expression tightened as she absorbed the words, the gravity of the story sinking in. This was not new information, but Titus's delivery brought it to life in a way that felt chillingly immediate.

"They were unstoppable together," Titus continued, his voice quieter now, as though speaking the next part aloud felt dangerous. "Their power was amplified when united. It wasn't until Ormazd, in a desperate act, severed their bond and imprisoned Ahriman that the world knew peace again. But the price was immense. Ormazd's power, once infinite, was diminished. The balance was broken."

Lexa frowned, her mind turning over the implications. "And after he became Wanheda?" she prompted.

Titus nodded, leaning back slightly. "Ormazd was forever changed. Defeating Ahriman took more than his power—it took a piece of his soul. He isolated himself, retreating from the world. He could no longer feel the connection to nature that had defined him. The emptiness he carried was a constant reminder of what he had lost. Yet in time, he found redemption.

"He embraced his new role, his burden, and in doing so, his power returned—but transformed. Stronger, more purposeful. It's said that only when Ormazd opened his heart, allowing himself to love, did he fully reclaim his strength. Even so..." Titus hesitated, his voice softening, "he was never whole again. The void left by Ahriman's defeat could never be filled. It stayed with him, a shadow in his soul."

Lexa stared into the flames, her thoughts racing. Could Clarke, too, be changed irrevocably by this path? Was it arrogant to believe she could shield her from such a fate? Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms.

"No," she said firmly, rising to her feet. The sharp scrape of her chair against the stone floor startled Titus.

"Heda?" he asked, uncertain.

"I won't let Clarke face this alone," she declared, her voice unwavering. "If this destiny is hers to bear, then I will bear it with her. Together, we will defy it."

Titus regarded her carefully, his concern evident. "Heda, this path is fraught with peril. You risk not only your life but the lives of all under your protection."

Lexa stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "So be it. Clarke is worth that risk. I will not allow an ancient prophecy to dictate our future."

Titus nodded reluctantly, bowing slightly in deference. "Then we must act swiftly. Sankru will not wait long to make their move."

"Send word to the surrounding clans," Lexa ordered. "Establish a blockade around Sankru's territory. Keep them contained until we decide our next step."

Titus left to carry out her orders, his footsteps fading into the silence. Lexa remained by the fire, staring into its flickering depths. The flames mirrored the storm within her—a relentless, consuming determination to protect Clarke at all costs. Somewhere deep inside, a small voice whispered doubts, warning of the impossible burden she was taking on.

But Lexa silenced it. She was Heda, and this was her fight. Whatever destiny awaited Clarke, Lexa would face it with her. Together, they would carve a new path—one that defied the shadows of the past.

Turning, she strode from the library, the firelight casting her shadow long against the stone walls. It was time to find Clarke and bridge the rift between them. Time to face whatever storm lay ahead, side by side.

Chapter Text

Clarkes POV

Clarke couldn’t believe everything that was happening. How was she supposed to become this all-powerful person everyone relied on when she didn’t even trust herself? She still felt like the same person she had been before learning the truth about Wanheda. The weight of the expectations was suffocating, and every attempt to reconcile who she is with who she was expected to be left her feeling fractured.

Frustration bubbled over as she abruptly set her paintbrush down, the canvas before her unfinished and uninspired. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus. The four walls of her room seemed to close in, making the air heavy and stifling. She needed to move, to breathe. Maybe fresh air would help clear her head.

Bundling herself in a thick coat, Clarke stepped out of her room and was immediately met by an entourage of guards. Their presence had doubled since the last time she ventured out, and it was becoming increasingly annoying. She paused, taking in the sight of them—three women and a younger male, all standing at attention and ready to follow her every move.

Seriously? Is this really necessary? Clarke thought, rolling her eyes. But she didn’t argue. These were just people following orders. If Lexa thought this much protection was required, then fine.

“Let’s go,” she said curtly, walking past the group.

As she moved through the hallway, one of the guards turned to a passing boy, giving instructions. “Inform the Commander of Clarke’s whereabouts.”

The boy nodded and disappeared down another corridor. Clarke bit back a groan. Even her movements around Polis weren’t her own anymore. She tried to put the irritation aside, focusing on her plan to get outside.

“Please, try to keep some distance,” Clarke said to the guards flanking her. Whether they would listen or not, she didn’t care to check. She just wanted to feel even a sliver of freedom.

Once outside, the cold air hit her like a shock, stinging her cheeks and filling her lungs. The first snow had blanketed the ground, a pristine white that glistened in the sunlight. It was breathtaking, but the chill was sharp, biting through her coat despite her layers. Clarke inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness of the air, before making her way into the heart of the city.

Her guards, of course, stayed close, their presence a constant reminder that she wasn’t just another citizen wandering the streets. She tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the merchants lining the marketplace, their stalls brimming with goods despite the cold. Clarke interacted briefly with a few of them, grateful for the distraction. Still, a nagging thought lingered in the back of her mind.

But before she could complete that thought a familiar voice called out. “Clarke?”

She turned quickly, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on a face she hadn’t expected to see. “Niylah,” she breathed, relief washing over her.

Niylah was already weaving through the crowd toward her but was stopped abruptly by the guards. Clarke’s irritation flared. “Let her pass,” she commanded. The guards hesitated only for a moment before stepping aside.

Niylah closed the distance between them, wrapping Clarke in a warm, familiar hug. Clarke melted into the embrace, the weight of everything momentarily lifting. “I’ve missed you,” Niylah murmured, her voice soft and full of sincerity.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Clarke whispered, refusing to let go. She inhaled Niylah’s scent, a mix of woodsmoke and earth that grounded her in a way few things could.

“It’s good to see you,” Niylah said as they finally pulled apart.

“How long have you been in Polis?” Clarke asked, still surprised by her presence.

“Since last night,” Niylah replied, gesturing toward her father, who was tending their booth nearby.

Clarke glanced over, guilt tugging at her. Of course, Niylah was here. She had known they were coming but had been so consumed by her own chaos that she’d forgotten. “I’m glad you’re here,” Clarke said earnestly.

Niylah smiled. “Me too.”

“Do you think you could sneak away for a bit?” Clarke asked, glancing toward the market stall.

Niylah looked back at her father, who gave her a small nod of approval before returning to his work. “I think I can manage,” she said with a grin.

“Perfect,” Clarke replied, her spirits lifting. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“I know just the place,” Niylah said, her tone playful as she began leading Clarke toward the outskirts of the city.

They chatted as they walked, their conversation light and familiar. It felt calm compared to Clarke’s frayed nerves, having someone she trusted by her side. As they neared the edge of Polis, Clarke couldn’t help but study Niylah’s features—the sharp yet gentle curve of her jaw, the warmth in her eyes. It was comforting, grounding.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Niylah replied with a mischievous smile.

Clarke sighed but didn’t press further, tightening her grip on Niylah’s hand as they continued. After weaving through a wooded area, they arrived at a rocky ledge overlooking the city below. The view was stunning, but Niylah didn’t stop there. She led Clarke into the mouth of a cave where an older woman sat outside, threading bracelets.

“Payment,” the woman said without looking up.

Clarke opened her mouth to ask how much but froze when the woman glanced up and immediately dropped her work, bowing deeply. “My apologies, Sky Heda,” she said, her voice reverent.

Clarke felt a pang of discomfort. “No need to apologize. How much do I owe you?” she asked again.

“On the house, Wanheda,” the woman said, blushing slightly.

“Thank you for your generosity,” Clarke replied, knowing the woman wouldn’t accept her payment even if she insisted.

Inside the cave, Clarke was hit by the pungent smell of sulfur. As they ventured deeper, the space opened into a series of steaming hot springs, illuminated by torchlight. Soldiers and expecting mothers alike lounged in the warm waters, their expressions serene.

“This is incredible,” Clarke said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Niylah beamed. “Isn’t it? Come on, let’s get in.”

Clarke hesitated as she began undressing, the lingering discomfort of being watched making her pause. “Could you wait outside?” she asked the head guard.

The tall woman shook her head. “We must keep you in sight at all times, per the Commander’s orders. But we will position ourselves at a distance.”

Clarke sighed but nodded. It was the best compromise she could hope for. She joined Niylah in one of the pools, the warm water easing the tension in her muscles she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Wow, this is amazing,” Clarke said, leaning her head back against the edge and closing her eyes.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the water and Niylah’s calm presence soothing Clarke’s restless mind. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but her thoughts crashed like the currents beneath the surface.

Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you know the story behind Wanheda?” Clarke asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Niylah glanced at her, curiosity flickering across her features. “Only rumors,” she admitted, her tone careful, as though she knew this wasn’t just idle conversation.

Clarke sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. Sliding a little closer, she lowered her voice further. “I don’t think I can do this,” she confessed. Saying the words aloud felt like peeling back a layer of armor she hadn’t realized she was wearing. The weight was still there, but it felt... shared, if only slightly.

Niylah’s brows knitted together in concern, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on Clarke’s knee. “What’s going on, Clarke?” she asked softly, her voice steady and patient.

So Clarke told her. She spoke of the prophecy that weighed on her shoulders like an anchor, of the looming threat from Sankru, of how being around Lexa again brings up all her unresolved feelings for the commander and the complications that it brings to their relationship. Most vulnerably, she spoke of her own doubts, her fears, and the gnawing guilt that she could never seem to shake. Niylah listened intently, her silence a quiet reassurance that Clarke could continue without fear of judgment.

When Clarke finished, she felt lighter, as though a storm inside her had finally begun to subside. But in that stillness, she also felt something unsettling—she hadn’t been fair. Not to herself, and especially not to Lexa.

“I haven’t been fair,” Clarke admitted, her voice catching. “Not to Lexa, not to my friends, not to anyone. I keep pushing people away because it’s easier than facing everything I’ve done... everything I feel. But it’s not fair to them. And it’s not fair to Lexa when all everyone is trying to do is help.”

Niylah’s hand remained steady on Clarke’s knee making a circular motion with her fingers, grounding her. “It’s not fair to you either,” Niylah said firmly, her eyes meeting Clarke’s. “You’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Clarke, but it’s not yours to carry alone.”

Clarke blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Niylah’s words. “But I—”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” Niylah interrupted gently but firmly, cutting through Clarke’s excuses. “You need to decide, right here, right now, whether you’re going to keep telling yourself that you’re not good enough. Because, Clarke,”—Niylah leaned closer, taking Clarke’s hand in hers—“you are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You fell from the sky and made it possible for your people to survive. You faced the Mountain Men and saved lives, even when it meant making impossible choices. People look up to you for a reason.”

Clarke’s lips parted as if to argue, but Niylah held up a hand, her expression resolute. “But if you keep wallowing in self-pity, you’re going to lose everything. All the people you’ve fought for, all the progress you’ve made—it’ll slip through your fingers. Not because you’re not capable, but because you won’t let yourself be.”

The harshness of Niylah’s words cut through Clarke’s defenses like a knife. She stared at Niylah, her mouth slightly agape, as the truth of it settled deep into her chest. For a moment, all she could do was sit there, stunned by the raw honesty of it.

“Have I really...” Clarke began, her voice trailing off. “Have I really been limiting myself this much?”

Niylah gave her a small, understanding smile. “I think you’ve been too busy punishing yourself to see what you’re capable of. But Clarke, you’re not the same person you were. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re any less.”

Clarke’s thoughts swirled, tumbling through memories of the person she used to be and the person she’d become. Her past self felt so distant, like a stranger she could barely recognize. She wasn’t sure if she could ever be that person again—or if she even wanted to. The uncertainty scared her, but it also brought a flicker of something else: the faintest glimmer of possibility.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to green eyes and a steady, unyielding presence. Lexa. Clarke’s breath hitched as she realized just how deeply her resentment had run—and how much of it had been misplaced.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke, her voice tinged with quiet regret. “I haven’t been fair to Lexa,” she admitted. “It was so easy to take out my anger and frustration on her because... because I knew she’d take it. But that doesn’t make it right.”

Niylah’s expression softened, and she gave Clarke’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Maybe it’s time to stop punishing her—and yourself.”

Clarke nodded slowly, the weight of the realization settling over her. “I need to find a way to apologize,” she murmured. “Not just to Lexa, but to everyone I’ve pushed away. I’ve spent so much time running from everything... maybe it’s time to start facing it.”

Niylah smiled warmly, her eyes full of quiet encouragement. “You’ve got this, Clarke. I know you do.”

Clarke met Niylah’s gaze, feeling a small spark of determination begin to stir within her. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.
As Clarke and Niylah stepped out of the steaming hot springs, the chill of the outside air nipped at their damp skin. Despite the cold, Clarke felt a rare lightness in her chest. It wasn’t peace—she doubted she would feel that for a long time—but the weight she carried seemed just a little less crushing. For the first time in what felt like ages, she could breathe without the sharp edges of guilt and responsibility cutting into her.

“So, what’s next?” Niylah asked, pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders as they strolled into Polis’ bustling streets.

Clarke glanced at her, a thoughtful smile tugging at her lips. “I want to make something. A chessboard. For the commander.”

Niylah tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. “What’s a chessboard?”

Clarke chuckled softly, the sound almost surprising to her own ears. “It’s a board game. A strategy game from my people. You use pieces that each have their own roles, and the goal is to trap the other player’s king. It’s all about planning ahead, and predicting your opponent’s moves.”

Niylah raised a brow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “That sounds... complicated. I think I’d lose before I even started.”

Clarke grinned. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s about thinking two, three steps ahead of your opponent.”

“Well,” Niylah said thoughtfully, “if anyone can keep up with a game like that, it’s Heda. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gift.”

Clarke’s smile faltered slightly. “I hope so,” she murmured, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Her mind drifted again to Lexa’s piercing green eyes and the unreadable expression she often wore.
It always surprised Clarke how much admiration people had for Lexa, Niylah especially. Then again, it shouldn’t. Lexa commanded not only respect but also unwavering loyalty from most of her people. But why, Clarke wondered, was there always so much pushback to Lexa’s decisions, even from those closest to her? Maybe it wasn’t about Lexa herself but about Skaikru—about what Clarke represented. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, a familiar pang of isolation settling in her chest.

Not wanting to dwell on it, Clarke pushed the thought aside and focused on the bustling market ahead.

The streets were alive with energy, vendors calling out to passersby, their stalls brimming with colorful textiles, intricate jewelry, and fragrant spices. It felt... normal, in a way that Clarke hadn’t experienced in far too long. Being here with Niylah was simple, uncomplicated—a welcome respite from the tangle of emotions that always seemed to surface when she was near Lexa.

At a woodworking stall, a square flat block of polished dark wood caught Clarke’s eye. She picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth surface, already envisioning the chessboard it could become. The texture was cool and smooth under her fingertips, a sharp contrast to the calluses she had earned through her time on earth.

“How much for this?” Clarke asked the merchant, an older man with a wiry beard.

“Ten tokens,” he replied gruffly.

Before Clarke could reach for her pouch, the man’s eyes darted to the guards standing a few paces behind her. His demeanor shifted, his voice suddenly hesitant. “Or—it’s yours, Wanheda. No charge.”

Clarke sighed, setting ten tokens in his hand before he could argue. “I’d prefer to pay,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The merchant nodded, swallowing whatever words he’d been about to say. Clarke tucked the block under her arm, her thoughts already turning to the carving process.

At another stall, Clarke found a knife sharp enough to carve the pieces. She was examining it closely when a subtle shift in the air made her pause. The bustling market seemed to quiet, the noise receding like the tide. A ripple of awareness ran through the crowd.

Clarke didn’t need to turn to know the reason. Lexa was near. The familiar tension built in her chest—not unpleasant, but full of anticipation. It was the same feeling she always had when in the commander’s presence, as if the very air between them was charged.

“Heda,” Niylah greeted softly, her tone reverent as she bowed her head in respect.

Clarke turned, her breath catching for the briefest moment. Lexa stood a few paces away, her piercing gaze fixed on Clarke with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. Her expression was calm, composed as always, but there was a tautness in her stance, a subtle edge to her features. Clarke couldn’t tell if Lexa was displeased or simply impatient.

As Lexa’s gaze flickered briefly to Niylah, Clarke noticed a faint, almost imperceptible bitterness flash across the commander’s face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the usual mask of authority.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, her voice calm and steady, though it carried an unmistakable weight. “We need to talk.”

Clarke hesitated, glancing at Niylah. “I’ll catch up with you later?” she asked, hoping Niylah would understand.

Niylah nodded, her expression carefully neutral. “Of course. I’ll hold onto the tools for you,” she said, taking the supplies from Clarke’s hands with practiced ease. Niylah always seemed to know what Clarke needed before she could say it.

“Thank you,” Clarke murmured, her gratitude genuine.

As Niylah disappeared into the crowd, Clarke turned back to Lexa, meeting her gaze with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. Whatever this was about, it wouldn’t be simple. Nothing with Lexa ever was.

They walked in silence, the sounds of the bustling market fading as Lexa led Clarke toward a quieter area at the market's edge. The tension radiating from Lexa was almost unbearable, each measured step betraying the inner conflict hidden beneath her stoic mask.

When they stopped, Lexa turned to Clarke, her piercing gaze steady. “There’s been an incident in Sankru,” she began, her voice low. “A faction has aligned with Azgeda. They’re preparing to challenge the Coalition.”

Clarke’s stomach twisted. “Do they know about me?”

Lexa nodded. “They see Wanheda as a threat. To them, you’re a symbol of Trikru dominance.”

Clarke exhaled shakily. “What are we going to do?” She winced inwardly at how uncertain she sounded, but Lexa didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sending reinforcements to the border,” Lexa replied, her tone softening. “But we must tread carefully. A single misstep could fracture the Coalition.”

Clarke nodded, though her thoughts raced. The familiar guilt crept in, whispering that somehow this was her fault. But wasn’t she done carrying blame for things far beyond her control? She shook the thought away, focusing on the here and now.

“Clarke,” Lexa said gently, breaking the silence. The previous stoic mask falling away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with Niylah. Your... connections are important.” There was a subtle edge to her tone, one Clarke couldn’t ignore.

Clarke blinked at the unexpected remark. “Nylah's my friend,” she said firmly. At least, that’s what they were now. Lexa’s slight scoff in response made Clarke raise her eyebrow trying to study the commander.

“What?” Clarke challenged, crossing her arms. “Do you not like her?”

Lexa’s gaze didn’t waver, though something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty, perhaps? “No,” she stated simply.

Clarke’s frustration flared. “Why not? She adores you. She looks up to you and supports your decisions more than most.” Her voice carried an edge of defensiveness. Niylah had been there for her when she needed it most, and Lexa’s blunt dismissal stung.

“I don’t trust her,” Lexa replied, her tone unyielding.

Clarke frowned, the words catching her off guard. “You don’t trust her? Lexa you don’t trust anyone. Does that mean you hate everyone you don’t trust?” Clarke felt herself getting angry. Niylah is important to her and she hated hearing these things being said about her.

“I trust very few,” Lexa admitted, her voice quieter now, almost reflective.

Clarke studied her, the weight of those words sinking in. Of course, Lexa didn’t trust easily—it was a lonely place to be, constantly guarded, bearing the weight of leadership. For a moment, Clarke’s frustration gave way to something softer. She saw past the Commander’s mask to the young woman underneath, one forced to grow up too fast.

“But I trust you,” Lexa murmured, the words almost shy, tinged with hope. They hung in the air between them, delicate and vulnerable.

The confession caught Clarke off guard. The surprise must have been evident on her face because Lexa quickly masked her expression, retreating behind her composed exterior.

Clarke exhaled slowly, her frustration giving way to honesty. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand why you do the things you do,” she admitted. Her thoughts wandered back to a memory that refused to let go. “When I saw you at Mount Weather that night... All I could feel was betrayal. I hated you for it.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened, but she remained silent, letting Clarke continue.

“But now...” Clarke hesitated, the words thick in her throat. “I think I’m starting to understand. You had to make choices no one should ever have to make. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It did—it still does. But maybe... maybe I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

Lexa’s gaze softened, her mask slipping just enough to reveal the vulnerability beneath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded slowly, the weight of her anger and grief loosening. “I know. It’ll take time, but... I don’t want to hold onto this grudge anymore. It’s too heavy.”

“You carry enough burdens,” Lexa said gently. “You shouldn’t carry this one too.”

As her words sunk in, Clarke felt a sliver of peace take root. The wounds between them weren’t healed yet—maybe they never would be—but this was a start.
“You’re not alone, Clarke,” Lexa added, her voice firm but kind. “You never were, and you never will be.”

Clarke met Lexa’s gaze, her heart steadying as something unspoken passed between them. The weight of their past lingered, but for the first time in a long while, Clarke felt something like hope—a fragile thread to rebuild on.

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered, her voice soft but sincere. “For everything.”

Lexa’s lips curled into the faintest smile. “You don’t need to thank me, Clarke.” After a moment, she added, “But I would like to start training you.”

Clarke blinked, startled. “Um...” Words abandoned her, and she nodded slowly instead. “Ok,” she said, unsure of how else to respond.

Lexa studied her for what felt like an eternity before nodding decisively. “We’ll start tomorrow morning.” Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Clarke released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. As the weight of the conversation settled, she wandered back to find Niylah standing beside her father at a busy stall. Seeing how occupied they were, Clarke decided to meet up with her own people instead.

The walk back to Skaikru camp gave Clarke time to think about what Niylah had said earlier. You need to stop holding yourself back. She knew Niylah was right. It was time to let go of some of the guilt that chained her and allow herself to live again.

As she approached the camp, the familiar sounds of her people drew her in—a strange mix of comfort and disorientation. Out front, she spotted Bellamy, Lincoln, and Octavia sparring. From a distance, their movements almost looked choreographed, precise and practiced. That illusion was shattered the moment Octavia elbowed Bellamy squarely in the nose.

“Damn it, O!” Bellamy yelled, staggering back and clutching his face.

Clarke rushed over, concern on her face but barely suppressing a smile.

“You're getting good, Octavia,” she called as she arrived at the scene.

Octavia grinned, clearly proud. “Thanks, Clarke. Where’ve you been all day?” she asked, casually ignoring her brother groaning beside her like a wounded animal.
“I was with Niylah this morning. She and her father are in town selling for a few days,” Clarke explained.

“No wonder we haven’t seen you,” Octavia teased, her grin widening with playful accusation. Clarke’s cheeks flushed just enough to give her away.

Wanting to change the subject, Clarke crouched beside Bellamy, whose blood now decorated the once-pristine snow. He looked half-dazed, his nose dripping red.
“Let me take a look,” she said, gently moving his hand aside.

He winced but didn’t complain. “Don’t tell me it’s broken,” he muttered.

She examined it closely. “Good news—just bruised. Once the bleeding stops, put some snow on it to help with the swelling. But you’re definitely getting a pair of black eyes. Very fashionable.”
“Great,” he grumbled. “Remind me to never spar with my sister again.”

“Noted,” Clarke smirked, patting his arm before heading toward the main hall.

Her damp hair, still clinging from her earlier visit to the hot springs, sent shivers down her spine as the cold bit through her clothes.

Inside, the camp buzzed with quiet activity. Raven was, of course, elbows-deep in some mechanical project, muttering under her breath with a furrowed brow. Nearby, Abby and Kane huddled over a map-strewn table, their expressions tense.

“About time you showed up,” Raven said without even glancing up.

Clarke smiled and shot back, “Good thing I’m here now, huh?”

After a quick hug with her mom, Clarke sat down and began carving the wooden chess pieces she'd started the day before. The repetitive motion helped calm her nerves. Teasing Raven and bantering with Bellamy had reminded her of simpler times—a small slice of normalcy she didn’t realize she missed so badly.

Eventually, her fingers cramped from the delicate work. Stretching, she stood and grabbed a plate from the communal food table, stepping outside. The snow had mostly melted under the bright sun, but the air was still brisk. She tilted her face toward the light, letting it warm her skin.

As she ate, her mind wandered. The tension, the looming threat of war… it all gnawed at her. Can I really handle another war? Her thoughts spiraled, fractured like shards of a mirror.

The day passed quickly. Clarke spent time laughing with her people, playing games, telling stories around a fire, and even exploring more of the village. It felt almost like a dream.

That illusion shattered with the onset of dusk—when a snowball fight broke out on a patch of snow still clinging to life. Clarke found herself ambushed by Octavia and Lincoln, who made an unfairly powerful duo. By the end of it, she was soaked, muddy, and breathless with laughter… and very, very cold.

All she wanted now was a hot shower (something she hadn’t experienced since the Ark), dry clothes, and a moment of peace.

After saying goodnight to her friends, she trudged toward the tower, shivering and leaving a trail of muddy footprints. She turned a corner—and collided straight into Lexa.
“Oh my—Jesus, I didn’t even hear you,” Clarke stammered, trying to steady herself.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed as she took in Clarke’s soaking, mud-splattered appearance. “Clarke,” she said, her voice tight. “What happened to you?”

“Snowball fight. Well… more like mudball fight.” Clarke waved a hand as if that explained everything.

Lexa’s frown deepened. “And my guards allowed this?” she said sharply, turning to glare at them. “You let Wanheda return in this state?”

Before she could go full Commander-mode, Clarke grabbed her wrist, redirecting her attention. “Hey. I’m fine. Really. I’m not made of glass.”

“You’re freezing,” Lexa muttered, her voice low with concern. Then, to one of her attendants: “Prepare a bath. Immediately.”

“A… bath?” Clarke blinked. “You mean like a hot bath?”

Lexa gave her a puzzled look. “Yes. To warm you. It will be drawn in your chambers.”

Clarke shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see the big deal. I can just change clothes.”

“You will bathe, Clarke,” Lexa said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Clarke scowled at her but didn’t protest further—mostly because she couldn’t stop shivering. She followed Lexa silently.

When they arrived at her chambers, Lexa personally inspected the water. Clarke tried to discreetly tuck away the bag of half-carved chess pieces on her bed, not wanting Lexa to see the unfinished gift.

“Go on,” Lexa said, crossing her arms. Her concern was... endearing. All this because Clarke looked like she lost a fight with a mud puddle.

Clarke quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there and watch me undress?”

Lexa blinked, caught off guard. “Apologies. I forgot Skaikru’s... prudishness.” She turned quickly, and Clarke swore she saw a faint blush creep up Lexa’s cheeks.
“I will return shortly. With dinner.” And then she was gone.

Clarke sighed, stripped off her soggy clothes, and sank into the bath. The heat hit her like a wave, easing the tension in her muscles. She sank deeper, her mind wandering to Lexa’s flustered reaction. Had she really blushed?

That small crack in Lexa’s armor made Clarke feel something she hadn’t in a while—curiosity. Longing.

Before her thoughts could spiral further—thoughts involving Lexa's hands on her skin—Clarke cut them off. Focus, Clarke. There's a war coming.

After quickly finishing her bath, she dressed and exited the bathroom just as a knock came at the door.

She expected Lexa.

But it was Niylah.

“Hey,” Niylah smiled, eyes lighting up.

“Niylah, I wasn’t expecting you,” Clarke admitted, surprised.

“I know you said you’d show me around the tower. I hope it’s a good time?”

“Of course, come in,” Clarke said, stepping aside.

“This room is stunning,” Niylah said, admiring the décor.

“If you think this is nice, you should see the balcony.”

Moments later, they stepped outside. Clarke immediately regretted it—her hair was still wet, and the chill was sharp.

“You can see everything from up here,” Niylah said, voice full of awe.

Clarke shifted from foot to foot, her thoughts already drifting back to Lexa.

“So, how long are you staying?” she asked.

Niylah hesitated. “That’s actually why I came. We sold out of everything. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“What? I thought you had a couple more days,” Clarke said, deflated. “We were supposed to explore Polis together…”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to stay too.”

They shared a lingering hug, filled with the words neither could fully say.

“I’m glad I saw you today,” Niylah whispered.

“Me too,” Clarke replied, forcing a smile. “But I’m freezing. Come on, let’s go inside.”

As Clarke began to show her the chess set, another knock came at the door. Her heart stuttered.

It was Lexa.

With two plates of food.

Her eyes flicked between Clarke and Niylah. “It’s late,” she said, cool and clipped. “Niylah should return to her quarters.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “She was just saying goodbye.”

“How did she even get into the tower?” Lexa asked, voice sharper than before.

Niylah stepped back, sensing the tension. “I’ll leave you to rest, Clarke. Thanks for the tour.”

Clarke hugged her one last time. “Be safe going home.”

“I will. Goodbye, Clarke.”

As soon as the door closed, Clarke turned to Lexa. “What the hell was that? You were rude.”

“I’m responsible for your safety—”

“Bull,” Clarke interrupted. “You’re jealous, Lexa.”

Lexa flinched. “I’m Heda. I don’t get jealous.”

Clarke continued to stare Lexa down, clearly not satisfied with her answer.

Lexa held her gaze for a beat longer before something in her posture shifted. It wasn’t a dramatic collapse, but a subtle drop in her shoulders—just enough for Clarke to notice. The smallest
crack in the commander’s carefully constructed armor.

“Fine,” Lexa snapped, her voice low but charged. “I don’t like her. I don’t like how close she is to you.”

The honesty hit Clarke harder than she expected. She blinked, surprised. “Then why didn’t you just say that?”

Lexa looked away, jaw tightening as she spoke. “Because it’s not my place. You can choose whoever you want, Clarke.”

There was a rawness to her voice now, an unspoken ache that settled in the silence between them.

Something in Clarke shifted. Lexa’s restraint, her refusal to act on what she felt—it wasn’t indifference. It was control. Protection. Fear, maybe.

Clarke stepped closer, her voice soft. “You’re so frustrating sometimes, you know that?”

Lexa’s gaze snapped back to her, fire flashing behind her eyes. “And you’re infuriating,” she countered, just as quietly, but with heat.

The tension between them finally snapped. Neither of them could hold it back any longer.

In a sudden, impulsive moment, Clarke closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to Lexa’s.

It was messy—charged with everything they’d been holding back: anger, confusion, longing, need. Lexa kissed her back like she’d been waiting for this moment forever. When they finally broke
apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other, lips trembling.

“I hate how you get under my skin,” Clarke whispered, breathless.

“And I hate how you see right through me,” Lexa murmured back, her voice barely audible.

Then, after a beat of silence that thrummed with unspoken questions, Lexa asked, “May I kiss you again?”

Clarke nodded, just once.

Lexa leaned in, slower this time, more certain. Their lips met again—this kiss softer, deeper, like they were finally giving themselves permission to feel.

When they pulled away, Lexa’s lips were already a little swollen from the intensity, her breath catching as she stepped back.

“We should eat,” she said, clearing her throat. “Before the food gets cold.”

Clarke blinked, still a little dazed. The warmth of Lexa’s mouth still lingered on hers. She wasn't thinking about food. Not at all.

Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve kissed anyone, she reasoned silently, trying to ground herself. But that wasn’t the truth, and she knew it.

Still, she followed Lexa to the small table, settling beside her.

“Thank you,” Clarke said as she picked up her fork.

They ate in a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable—just… full. They traded small stories from their days. Clarke found herself laughing at something Lexa said, the sound startling her with how
natural it felt. Occasionally, their conversation drifted into weightier topics—Coalition politics, strategic threats—but even then, it didn’t feel heavy. For once, it felt like them. Like something real.

By the time the meal was finished, Clarke found herself hesitating. She didn’t want Lexa to go. Not yet.

But she also knew what that might mean.

“It’s getting late,” Lexa said, rising from her seat and smoothing down her tunic. “I should head back. Don’t forget—training at dawn.”

Clarke stood too, unsure of what to say. “Right. Of course. I’ll be there.”

They stood for a moment, caught between goodnight and something more. Clarke didn’t know if she should walk Lexa to the door, or just let her go. But Lexa, always perceptive, seemed to
sense the indecision.

“Goodnight, Clarke,” she said quietly, before turning and slipping out the door.

Clarke watched her go, her lips parting as if to call her back, but the words never came.

“Goodnight,” she murmured into the empty room, long after the door had closed.