"Clarke, please—"
A beautiful blonde with a dirt-covered face, bloodshot blue eyes, and tear stains cries as she slams the door to her close friend, Octavia Blake.
Tonight, Clarke cries not for the death of her father, nor for Finn, not even for the 300 lives she took by flame. No, tonight she cries for the heart that was ripped out vigorously from within her, still pumping—though slowly giving up—black blood. For the three quarters of her soul—of all her being she lost merely hours ago. She cries, sobs, bawls and weeps for the guilt of letting her heart and soul slip between the cracks of her fingers without letting it—her—know, without declaring her undying love for the great Commander. For the Heda who single-handedly claimed her heart as hers. Tonight, she cries and hurts for the death of Lexa.
"Clarke!" There is banging on the door, Octavia's voice merging with Murphy's. Clarke shakes her head wildly, the tears dragging down her face flying to all sides of the room. She shuts her eyes close, curls into a fetal position on her bed, and holds her hands close to her ears, blocking out the world.
A world without Lexa.
"No, no, no," she quietly chants to herself, remembering how just hours ago her and her lover were tangled up in these very furs—in utter and complete bliss and in ignorance of the events to come.
"I didn't get to tell her I love her!" She shouts to no one in particular. "I love her!" She repeats, "I love her, I love her!" She shouts, praying the spirits of the Flame can hear her and pass down her word. "I love you, Lexa, I love you. Please, please, don't leave me."
"Clarke, come on! Open up."
Clarke cries and rocks herself to sleep, her hands, so talented and skilled yet just not enough to bring her back, covering her ears. She dreams of what life without Lexa shall truly be—a vast space of emptiness and darkness. Then, a single light, to her left, shines through.
As though it were a screen, she sees a baby version of Lexa, birthed into the world, crying as her parents hold her close with joy.
To Clarke's right, another screen lights up, and she sees herself being born, Jake Griffin smiling at the new creation.
These are her memories, she realizes. This is her story.
Clarke looks once again to her left, these must be her memories, Clarke concludes. Finally, beneath her, a third and final screen turns alight.
Their memories.
"This is my favorite," the screen with Clarke's memories pauses. Though through the corner of her eye she can see herself taking her first steps, her eyes are solely focused on the being—the beautiful creature—in front of her.
"Though I have yet to go through the rest."
"L-Lexa?" The name barely passes her lips, her voice hoarse from either shock or her overuse of her vocal cords. "H-how?"
"Sha," the young woman nods, chin held high, "it is I, Clarke. Why do you cry?" Her head cocks to the side, showing her genuine curiosity.
"Lexa, you're—you're—" Clarke can't finish her statement, and Lexa knows, as she soothes the blonde by striding to her in just three strong steps, and embraces her. She's warm, is Clarke's first thought as she holds on tightly to the Commander's cloak. "I'm so sorry! Please Lexa, I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you. I need you."
Lexa gives a sad smile as she uses her index finger and thumb to guide Clarke's face to look up to her. Her chest is swelling at the look of distress she herself is causing her beloved to have, but Clarke must know this is not her fault.
"I am sorry for leaving you, Clarke. My fight is over. Yours, however, is not. My spirit shall choose well. I have left because the sprits willed it. Please, understand my love, there is nothing you could have done."
"Lexa, you're gone. You left me. I'm alone! I, I can't—I won't—Lexa, I don't know how."
"I know," Lexa smiles. "It is hard, but please Clarke, move forward. Save your people—save our people. They will look up to you now, Wanheda. Lead them Clarke, as you would so with me alongside you. I will always be with you. I have promised fealty to you for the rest of your life. I shall watch over, guide and protect you until your end."
Clarke can't help but allow her fingers to trace Lexa's war paint, she wants to burn them into her memory. She wants to brand them into her heart, remember the certain green glow her eyes offer when she is feeling any emotion, the arch of her lips, the small golden wheel on her forehead. The way she can gracefully dual wield her swords with such lethality and strength. Clarke wants to remember everything about Lexa. Of Lexa. She wants to remember Lexa as a whole until her dying breath.
"You must go back, Clarke," Lexa persuades, her hands resting on the blonde's cheeks.
"I, I regret it, Lex," Clarke confesses, her head hanging in shame. Lexa lifts her head and guides it to her own, their foreheads touching.
"Life without regrets is no life at all," is what she says. She pauses to give Clarke a kiss, "so live. Livebecause you only get one chance," Clarke nods, eyes watering. This time, she engages the kiss between the two. "A life with no cries and laughs, regrets and applaud, whispers and screams, frowns and smiles is no life at all, for that would mean you have not lived life to its full potential. So, goddamnit, Clarke, live my love, if not for your own self then for me. For when it is time for you to join me here in the realm of the great leaders, for when it is time for you to stand in from of me, I—we—can smile at one another and finally let go. So we may continue in peace, no longer owing anything to our people, and continue in harmony, in complete and utter bliss. Now go. It is time for you to wake up, my beloved. Wake up, Clarke. Rise, Wanheda. Wake up and rise, Klark kom Skaikru."
They share a passionate kiss, Clarke gets the chance to declare her love for the Commander, before a force so strong wrenches her from the comforting grasp of Lexa.
Clarke awakes with a start, her heart pounding. Octavia has finally let herself in, telling Murphy to stand guard. She hears Clarke panting heavily, she can practically feel the blonde's tears fall down her own face.
"Why, why does my heart beat?"
Octavia is taken aback with the sudden question. She stops right in her tracks. The blonde is sitting upright on the bed, with her head bent, allowing her hair to shield her face.
"I think that's a question you should know the answer to, Griffin."
"No, Octavia. I don't. It shouldn't be beating. Hers isn't, so why should mine? Why is it? Are her green eyes open? Is her heart beating? Is she still Commander? No. She's not. Why, Octavia? Why does my bleeding heart still pump?"
"Well, shit, Griffin, you got it bad."
"I love her."
"I know."
"I, I couldn't save her."
"I know."
Clarke whips her head up. She shrugs, "I'm saying the truth. I know. She knows. We all know. So damnit Clarke get up! She wouldn't want you to waste away like this!"
Clarke takes a moment to breathe as she closes her eyes. The tears stop, her hands ball into fists, and her back straightens.
Moments later her head snaps up, her eyes already open. Her blue eyes burn bright with determination, and the shadows on her face create a mask that resembles that of Lexa's war paint.
Wanheda has awoken, and she will avenge her Heda.
. . .
In another realm, a smiling Lexa crosses her arms in front of her puffed-out chest, her chin held high in pride.
"I love you too, Klark," she whispers to the winds.
So… basically I may or may not have ignored my duties as a student. Heh. Uh, yeah so during English I may or may not have started daydreaming about—er, yeah just (clears throat) daydreaming. Plain ol' daydreaming. Anywho, I was bored as hell and somehow came up with this quote (at end of this A/N) and fixed it up for a Clexa FanFic. Did you enjoy? Are you happy I daydream during English? No? And don't you dare ask about wh—what I was daydreaming of! Hehe, have a good day!
"Life without regrets is no life at all, so live. Live because you only get one chance. A life with no cries and laughs, regrets and applaud, whispers and screams, frowns and smiles is no life at all, for that would mean you have not lived life to its full potential. So, goddamnit, Clarke, live my love, if not for your own self then for me. For when it is time for you to join me here in the realm of the great leaders, for when it is time for you to stand in from of me, I—we—can smile at one another and finally let go. So we may continue in peace, no longer owing anything to our people, and continue in harmony, in complete and utter bliss. Now go. It is time for you to wake up, my beloved. Wake up, Clarke. Rise, Wanheda. Wake up and rise, Klark kom Skaikru."