6For the lovely Sarah, via GGE. Enjoy, my darling.
"Do you think it's wise, Heda?" Titus asks.
Lexa keeps her head high, only the hint of a scowl betraying her annoyance. "Are you doubting my capabilities, Titus?" she asks, her voice strangely calm.
He gives a small, respectful bow of his head. "Of course not. I am simply advising you," he answers. "The girl is Skaikru. She is not one of ours."
"She is mine," Lexa says simply.
Titus exhales deeply, his eyes closing for a moment. She wonders if any of the past Commanders he has served have been so stubborn, so quick to dismiss his concern. "I doubt she would agree after the events of Mount Weather," he reminds her, and though his words are gentle, she can hear the venom lacing each syllable.
"Clarke will forgive me," she says, grateful that her uncertainty doesn't bleed through.
"You are the Commander," he says, as though Lexa might have somehow forgotten. "Do you not realize how many would love to see your fall?"
Once, she might have listened. But following advice instead of her instincts is exactly what had gotten Costia killed. "Those same sleeping enemies would also be quick to shed Clarke's blood, to claim the power of Wanheda as their own," she insists. "I will not risk her life. I will not make that mistake again."
Titus holds her gaze, his eyes hard. "If you are so set on this, then send Roan to find her. Azgeda provides the finest trackers. Why not use the prince for your bidding?"
Lexa shakes her head in refusal. She will not have another fight her battle, not when someone she cares for is at stake.
"Then take Indra with you!" he insists.
Lexa moves past him, collecting her weapons. "This is something I must do alone, old friend," she says, keeping her back to him. "You do not understand matters of the heart, Titus."
"I do understand that the heart should not guide your actions, Heda. Perhaps you will learn that in time," he says stiffly. "I only pray that it won't be too late "
…
Indra corners her as she reaches the woods. Lexa groans. "If Titus has sent you, I will tell you the same thing. I am taking this journey alone," she says sharply.
"With all due respect, you are a fool, Heda," the warrior says, her eyes narrowed. "Skaikru is no longer an enemy, but it is only a matter of time before they turn on us again. The girl has no place with us."
"Bold words from the one who has taken in Octavia kon Skaikru," Lexa says evenly, stepping past Indra without a second glance.
"Octavia is a warrior. She has a warrior's heart. Can you say the same for Clarke?"
Lexa pauses, glaring into the darkness beyond. Clarke, the girl who had the courage to take down Mount Weather. Clarke, the girl who found a way to return the Reapers to their old selves. Lexa laughs. "There is only one other I would wish to be at my side during a battle, and that is you," she answers.
"Then let me accompany you, Commander."
Lexa turns, grasping Indra's hand. "Stay, Indra. If you truly believe that Skaikru will turn, then your place is here.'
"I wish that you would stay, Heda."
Lexa nods, dropping her hand. With a thin smile, she turns again, disappearing into the shadows.
…
"Have you seen her?" Lexa demands. "Have you seen Wanheda?"
A hint of a coy smile plays at Niylah's lips. "Must be important if you're looking for her, Commander," she says sweetly. "She was here a few weeks ago, but I haven't seen her since."
Lexa studies her face with a frown. She's learned to read people, and the lie is clear on the girl's face. "Why lie to protect a stranger."
The flicker of emotion across Niylah's face betrays something else. Clarke is more than just a stranger. Lexa knows that expression all too well. She's worn it countless times at the mention if Costia. Lexa swallows dryly, Titus' warning about the heart guiding actions ringing in her head. Now is not the time for jealousy.
"I'm trying to protect Clarke,' she says softly. "If you care for her, then help me."
Niylah laughs. "Azgeda is looking for her, too," she says. "It took two days to clean up the damage they left to my father's post. Would have lost my head if I didn't send them on a false trail."
Lexa sighs, relief washing over her. "Thank you for keeping her safe. But I am not Azgeda. I am Trikru, like you. I need you to trust me."
Niylah hesitates, her expression softening. After a moment, she nods. "I don't know where she went, truthfully. She was here two nights ago, but she was gone when I woke up," she answers, moving to the door, Lexa following behind. Niylah points to the north, and Lexa feels her heart sink. "Her footsteps lead that way."
"Azgeda," Lexa whispers, her fingers twitching to her dagger.
A renewed determination floods her veins, transforming her blood to fire. The Ice Queen took Costia from her. She'll be damned if Nia has a chance to lay a finger on Clarke.
Lexa pulls her dagger from its sheath, placing it in Niylah's hand. "A gift."
"Thank you, Heda."
"If they come to call again, if they try to harm you again, you bury that blade in their chests," she growls. "Jus drein jus daun."
Niylah bows her head. "Yes, Commander "
…
Lexa wakes with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. She sits up, forcing herself to take deep breaths, trying to steady her nerves. It's useless. Images of her nightmare still flash through her head.
An Azgeda warrior carrying a basket. Clarke's head falling from it, just as Costia's had.
Lexa closes her eyes. "Not real," she whispers, but it does nothing to calm her trembling body.
She decides that there's no use in trying to go back to sleep. Her mind is wide awake now. She climbs to her feet and gathers her things. She's stayed too long anyway. Clarke has a good head start, and Lexa can't waste any more time.
As she carries on, she expects her mind to ease. Instead, thoughts war inside her mind, images of Nia holding Clarke's head like a trophy plague her the whole way.
She doesn't even notice the sun rising.
.
Clarke groans as she wakes. Her back is stiff, and every muscle in her body feels as though it's on fire. She blinks rapidly, confused by how high the sun is overhead. She's overslept. The time that she's supposed to spend putting distance between herself and everyone else has been wasted.
She climbs to her feet, cursing herself. No time for breakfast now, no time to treat her wounds from the day before. She can't afford to waste time. The farther she gets, the better.
Her stomach growls in protest, but she ignores it. She has to keep going.
…
It's nearly sunset when she decides to stop. There won't be enough time to hunt, but she can at least find berries. If she's lucky, she might even manage to find a nest full of eggs.
Clarke sets her things aside, carefully hiding them from anyone who might pass. Not that she's seen a soul in the few days that she's been out. A small mercy, but she doesn't trust her luck to hold up.
Carrying only her knife, she enters the woods, careful to keep the path in sight. The last thing she needs is to get lost without her supplies.
By sunset, she has a handful of wild berries. Not much of a meal, but it will get her through the night. In the morning, she will hunt before she continues.
…
When she arrives back at her camp, she immediately knows that something is wrong. Her bag is still hidden, but some of the grass has been pushed away. Clarke grips her knife, her eyes narrowing as she searches for signs of an intruder.
Carefully, she approaches, her body tense. Nothing. No sign of life anywhere. She relaxes, just barely, trying to convince herself that it had just been an animal, nothing to be afraid of. It almost works, until a set of strong hands grab her by her arms, her knife falling uselessly to the ground.
"Wanheda," the man says, a wild gleam in his eyes. "The Queen asked for you to be brought back alive. She wants your power for herself." He spits at her feet. "I can take it. I can be the new King."
She doesn't understand what he's talking about, what Wanheda means. But it's not hard to guess that he plans to kill her. She pushes forward, trying to throw him off, but he's like a great stone, unmoving.
He laughs. "I would have thought that the great Wanheda would be stronger than that," he sneers. "Perhaps you've been wrongly named."
Clarke slams her head forward with all her might, making contact with his jaw. The impact leaves her dizzy, but it's enough. The man yelps and releases her, his hand brushing over his bleeding lip.
"Who are you?" she demands, rubbing her throbbing head, her vision blurred with tears.
"That wasn't a smart move, little girl," he says, recovering more quickly than Clarke.
Before she can reach for her knife, he knocks her to the ground, landing on top of her. She struggles, her fists beating against his sides, but he doesn't seem to notice. One hand keeps her pinned as the other finds her throat. Clarke's mouth opens, a weak breath escaping her lips in a pitiful squeak.
She's going to die out here alone. Her mother, Bellamy, Lexa… No one will know. They'll just assume she's gone, never coming back.
Clarke's lips move frantically as she tries to remember any prayers from the Ark. Nothing comes to mind.
From a distance, she hears a cry, but she can't respond. Her body is going limp. Her lungs are screaming. Whoever has found them is too late.
Her eyes close, and the world fades to black.
…
Clarke sits up, confused. She doesn't know what she thought the afterlife would look like, but she definitely didn't imagine it would be nothing but trees and the smell of smoke. "Wha-?
Her throat aches as she tries to speak. She runs her finger along her neck, wincing at the tenderness.
"It may take a few hours before you can speak comfortably," a familiar voice says.
Clarke jumps to her feet, swaying as her head seems to spin. Lexa sits at a fire, studying her.
Clarke reaches for her knife and finds nothing. Her eyes dart, searching the ground where it might have fallen, but there is nothing there.
"I'm not foolish enough to keep you armed," Lexa says, clearly amused at Clarke's frustration. "Eat. It's soup. Might help your throat."
Clarke wants to refuse, but her stomach wins. She obediently falls beside Lexa, accepting the makeshift bowl. "Why are you here?" she asks, wincing at the effort it takes to speak.
"You could say thank you," Lexa says quietly, sipping her soup.
"You betrayed me," Clarke rasps.
"I was looking out for my people," Lexa replies, her tone cold. "Can you really tell me that you wouldn't have done the same if given the chance?"
Clarke wants to tell her no, she wouldn't. But is it the truth? She's thought about it again and again since Mount Weather. She wants to hate Lexa for leaving, but a little voice in her head says that she can hardly blame her.
To keep from answering, Clarke sips her soup, the warmth soothing the soreness in her throat almost instantly.
"I don't regret my decision, only that it hurt you," Lexa says. "I would make the same choice again if I could do it over."
Clarke scowls at the ground. "What's Wanheda?"
"Commander of death," Lexa answers. "News of what happened with the Mountain Men spread. You've been given a title. People believe that anyone who kills you will harness your powers. Queen Nia of Azgeda is one of them, and you're close to her territory."
Clarke sets her bowl aside, her appetite killed by this information. She doesn't want to be Wanheda. She wishes she hadn't had to make that horrible decision. The blood on her hands will never wash away.
"How did you find me?"
"Niylah helped me. She seems to care about your safety."
Clarke can hear the accusation in her voice, the note of jealousy that laces her words. It's a small comfort.
"I'm getting some sleep. It would be smart not to run from me. You don't know your way."
Only now does Clarke realize that she's completely surrounded by wilderness. The path is nowhere in sight. She scowls again and lays down beside the fire. She'll play along for now, but when the time comes, she'll run.
Clarke closes her eyes, surprised by how easily she drifts off.
…
Clarke sees the path and starts for it, but Lexa grabs her hand, pulling her into a crouch. "What-?
Lexa presses a finger to her lips, her free hand gesturing upwards, towards the path. At first, Clarke doesn't understand, but then she hears the footsteps.
"Azgeda?" Clarke whispers.
Lexa shakes her head. Before Clarke can ask how she knows, she notices the weapons the people carry. Guns. No Grounder would ever touch them. Only the Mountain Men and members of the Ark.
For one wild moment, Clarke considers breaking away and running to them. But she's barely recognizable anymore. After spending so much time on the run, she would be mistaken for a Grounder. Running would be taken as an attack.
It seems to take them forever to pass. Slowly, Lexa relaxes again. "We should go. We'll stick to the woods for now," she says. "The road is not yet safe."
Clarke laughs. "Not like you to run from a fight."
"But it's like me to protect the ones I care about," she answers quietly.
Clarke rolls her eyes. The bitterness is still there. Lexa's betrayal, however noble her intentions, still stings. She doesn't care if Lexa claims to care about her. Really, she doesn't believe it. Lexa's mind works in strategy, and, most likely, she's just wondering how best to use Clarke, how the power of the so called Wanheda will benefit her.
…
Even as night falls, they do not rest. Lexa navigates the pitch black wilderness skillfully, and Clarke stays close, afraid to stumble, to lose her way.
"Why did you come after me?" she asks when she can't stand the silence anymore. "You could have sent someone. They can't be happy that their great Commander has taken on the task."
"Only Titus and Indra know," she answers. "I don't know what story they've told to cover my absence, but I know that they won't betray my secret."
"You didn't answer my question."
Lexa stops so abruptly that Clarke runs into her. She grabs Clarke before she can lose her balance. "I thought it was obvious, Clarke."
"Say it."
Lexa's face is hidden mostly in shadow, but Clarke sees her mouth form a scowl in the sliver of moonlight. "We should stop here for the night," she says. "We should reach Polis in another day or two."
"Lexa-"
But the silence returns, tense and painful between the two of them. Clarke shrugs. She doesn't know why she'd expected honesty from Lexa. "Fine," she says, stretching out on the ground. "Whatever you say, Heda."
.
The nightmares come again. Clarke's head, detached from her body, her face covered in blood, her eyes still wide in horror, mouth open in her final scream.
Lexa wakes in a cold sweat, her heart hammering painfully in her chest. She sits up, reaching for Clarke, but her fingers curl around air. She swears under her breath, climbing to her feet, searching frantically. Clarke is nowhere to be found.
For a moment, Lexa considers leaving her behind. If Clarke doesn't want to be taken, then maybe Lexa shouldn't force her. Maybe it's for the best.
But she knows that it isn't an option. She's already lost Costia. The thought of losing Clarke as well causes her heart to ache.
Lexa crouches, studying the footprints in the dirt. North, again, to Azgeda, to certain death. "You idiot!" she growls, straightening again and following the trail angrily.
…
"Do you have a death wish?" Lexa demands when she reaches Clarke at last. "The Ice Nation is not kind, Clarke. Queen Nia will not hesitate to kill you."
Clarke glares. "Will you? What's to stop you from killing me? I'm Wanheda, remember? Don't you want my power, too?"
"I want you alive and well, and with me," Lexa snaps, grabbing Clarke by her wrist.
She doesn't see Clarke's free hand racing toward her until her knuckles collide with her cheek. Lexa yelps, but her grip tightens. "Don't make me hurt you, Clarke."
"You've already done that," Clarke says bitterly.
Lexa narrows her eyes, jerking Clarke's arm roughly and forcing her to her knees. "You are wanted in Polis for crimes against the Commander," she says firmly. "I will take you in, and you will stand trial."
This isn't how she wanted it to be. She wanted Clarke to come freely, to lay down her grudges and understand that Lexa is trying to help her. But Clarke is too stubborn to do things the easy way. Lexa binds her hands, pulling Clarke to her feet.
"You're taking me prisoner?" Clarke demands, incredulous.
Lexa doesn't answer. She clenches her jaw and keeps her head high, pushing Clarke gently, forcing her to keep going. "You've already made me lose enough time," she says. "Keep moving."
…
Lexa can't bring herself to look at Clarke when they stop for the night. The hurt in her eyes is too much. Lexa hangs her head, ashamed. She's betrayed Clarke's trust again.
But it's for the best. She has to keep telling herself that, or she might break. If Clarke doesn't come with her, she's as good as dead. Too many Clans are looking for her, desperate to obtain her power.
Maybe she'll hate Lexa forever for it, but if it keeps her alive, Lexa can live with that.
…
"I won't run again," Clarke says as they climb onto the path. "You don't have to keep this up."
"I'm not keeping anything up," Lexa says, guiding Clarke along. "You forced my hand."
"Lexa, please!"
She almost gives in. The pain in Clarke's voice makes her hesitate. She doesn't want Clarke to hurt, to hate her.
"Keep moving," she says, shaking her head.
Clarke stops, her feet planted firmly. Lexa watches her curiously. "I'm not moving," Clarke announces. "You'll have to kill me."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Don't start this," Lexa sighs. "Just keep going. I'm not doing this with you."
She still refuses to move. Lexa clenches her jaw. It's possible that she could carry her all the way to Polis, but it will be an even slower journey. Leaving her behind is still not a possibility.
With a scowl, Lexa kicks up a small cloud of dust. "Do you think it was easy for me Clarke? Yes, I betrayed you. Yes, it eats me alive every night when I try to sleep. I kept my people safe, but I hurt you in the process!" she says, her voice raising as the emotion floods through her. "I get it. You hate me. Hate me all you want, but I'm doing what I do best. I'm protecting what is mine!"
She waits, hopeful, praying that her words have broken through, that Clarke understands. But Clarke stays where she is, and Lexa cries out.
"What was that? Who's there?" someone calls from up ahead. "Pike? Is that you?"
Lexa grabs at Clarke, trying to pull her back to the woods, but it's too late. The man approaches, covered in furs like an Ice Nation warrior, but he lacks the scars and the white paint. The man draws his gun, his eyes narrowing at the sight of them. "You!" he growls, aiming his weapon. "Haven't you taken enough of us? You won't stop until we're all dead, will you?"
"Clarke," Lexa whispers. "Run to the woods. Lay low, and if I don't make it out, keep running until you reach the trading post. Tell Niylah to take you to Polis."
"I'm not-"
But Lexa shoves her before she can finish the sentence. Clarke recovers quickly, rolling to the side.
.
It's all a blur of noise. Clarke can't see anything where she's landed. She struggles helplessly, cursing the rope around her wrists. She supposes she could crawl, but it wouldn't end well. She would never make it to Niylah.
The gunshot rings out, and Clarke screams as she hears a body fall with a soft thud.
"Lexa," she whispers.
For a moment, she loses the fight in her. She considers just laying there and waiting for the end. But then Lexa's sacrifice would have been for nothing.
She can feel the rocks and roots tear at her skin and clothes, but she keeps going in an awkward, slow crawl, trying to ignore the footsteps approaching. She has to make it out. She has to find Niylah, to let someone know.
"That's one. And here's number two."
Clarke rolls onto her back. "I know you," she says. "You were in Farm Station. I'm friends with Monty Green!"
The man hesitates, but not long enough. He raises his weapon, aiming for her head. "Don't speak his name, you filthy Grounder," he snaps. "You killed him, didn't you?"
"My name is Cl-"
"I don't care what your name is!" he says, kicking her roughly in the side. "Your kind didn't care about our names when you slaughtered us! I'm doing you a favor. At least you won't suffer the way-"
His sentence is cut off, replaced by a gurgling sound. His eyes widen, and his fingers pull a knife from his neck. Seconds later, he collapses, and Lexa staggers forward, clutching a wound at her side.
"You're alive."
"Heal me, Clarke. Please," she says, dropping to her knees and untying the ropes.
…
Lexa is lucky. For now, at least. The bleeding stops, but without any equipment, Clarke can't be sure that there isn't more danger to come. She'll have to keep an eye on her.
She kneels beside the fallen Farm Station worker, closing his eyes with her fingers. "Yu gonplei ste odon," she says quietly.
…
"Will you come with me?" Lexa asks.
"You're giving me a choice now?" Clarke wants to laugh at the sudden change, but she's too exhausted.
"You will do what you want, Clarke. You've proven that again and again," she answers dryly. "But I think I've proven that you can trust me. I've saved you twice now."
"But you still won't say why."
Lexa closes her eyes. At first, Clarke assumes she'll close off again, let the silence fall, never give her an answer. But then she laughs, opening her eyes. "Because losing you would be worse than death," she says. "Because knowing that I failed to protect another person that I love is too much for me." She swallows dryly, shaking her head. "Ai hod yu in, Klark kon Skaikru."
The last part takes her a moment to understand. She's grown accustomed to the language, but her mind is still slow to translate. But when it registers, she smiles.
Clarke pulls Lexa closer, kissing her. "That's all you had to say."
Lexa laughs. "I could have saved so much time if I'd said it from the start," she muses.
"I gave you the opportunity," Clarke reminds her. "And yet you still call me stubborn."
"Will you come with me?" Lexa asks again. "Let me keep you safe, Clarke."
Clarke hesitates. For months, she's wanted nothing more than to get away from anyone who knows her name. She's wanted to run away from, to leave her sins far behind her. But it's lead to nothing but exhaustion and devastation.
She takes Lexa's said. "Not as your prisoner," she says. "Not as Wanheda."
"No," Lexa agrees. "As Clarke, as mine."
