A/N: I've not written anything for a while, but this pairing is just so good I had to do something, the current plan being to write the cannon story but with perhaps a few more details here and there. My knowledge of Trigedasleng spellings is not exactly encyclopaedic (dictionaric? I'm pretty certain that's not a word in English…), so I'm relying on lingojam TrigedaslengTranslator, so sorry about that if I get anything wrong! Anywho, I'm enjoying writing this so far, hope you enjoy reading :)
Chapter 1
"If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will slit your throat."
Clarke didn't doubt him. The intensity in the Grounder's glare was more than enough to convince her. She couldn't help but wonder about this Commander who seemed to inspire such ferocity in her followers, the very same Commander on whose reasonableness Clarke was more or less gambling the lives of all her friends and family.
She followed the guard into the tent, eyes darting around to take in the threatening stance of every Grounder present.
All of them except for the Commander.
Clarke didn't quite know what to make of her. She swallowed hard, trying not to feel her own fear as a fresh wave of awareness of her own vulnerability swept over her. The Commander looked so calm, so relaxed, leaning back on her incredibly intimidating seat – throne, maybe? - and almost casually playing with a dagger in her hands. She was so much younger than Clarke had anticipated. She hoped this display of almost arrogant calm was as much a mask as the black paint that hid the Commander's face.
"You're the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive."
The Commander didn't even look at Clarke as she spoke, her eyes only rising from her blade tip to look at the blonde to demand an explanation.
"You're the one who sent them there to kill us." Clarke reminded herself to breathe, that she needed to tread carefully on the fine line between showing strength and showing aggression. She reminded herself to breathe again as Lexa thunked the tip of her blade into the armrest of her throne, her head raising slightly as she finally condescended to actually look at Clarke head on, her fingers still idly twisting the dagger on its tip.
"Do you have an answer for me, Clarke of the Sky People?"
Her voice was different to what Clarke had expected.
"I've come to make you an offer," Clarke did her best to keep her own voice firm, reasonable, deserving of respect.
"This is not a negotiation."
There was almost half a hint of humourless laughter in the Commander's voice, such certainty that Clarke could not possibly have anything to offer that was even worthy of her consideration.
The dark skinned warrior to Lexa's left suddenly addressed her Commander; Clarke couldn't understand the Grounder language but the woman's stance and facial expression told her more than enough about what she was saying; Clarke wanted to punch her. The warrior's swift silence as Lexa calmly but firmly raised a hand to stop her also told Clarke a lot.
"I can help you beat the Mountain Men."
The sharpness with which Lexa's eyes snapped to focus on hers, the tiny shift of her posture as she brought her dagger back to rest in her lap, the short silence laden with consideration; these gave Clarke her first miniscule drops of hope that the Commander might actually be as open to reason as Kane had said she was. Clarke held her breath.
"Go on."
Clarke breathed again.
"Hundreds of your people are trapped inside Mount Weather kept in cages; their blood is used as medicine."
"How do you know this?"
"Because I saw them. My people are prisoners there, too. I was one of them."
"Lies," the dark skinned warrior spoke in English this time but Clarke wanted to punch her nonetheless. "No one escapes the mountain." She was practically snarling with hatred as she glared at Clarke.
"I did," the blonde replied quickly, directing her gaze back to Lexa and noting the sharp interest warring with sharp distrust in her eyes. "With Anya." The Commander's reaction was well masked but it was there. "We fought our way out together."
"Another lie," the warrior to Lexa's left interrupted again and Clarke tried not to let her frustration cloud her. "Anya died in the fire. You killed her."
For what felt like the thousandth time, Clarke cursed the bullets that had ended Anya's life and prayed that the braid of her hair she'd cut would be enough to convince Lexa that her former mentor had allied herself with Clarke before she died. She reached into her pocket and suddenly felt the tension in the room rocketing, heard the soft clink of half-drawn blades rattling around her. The Grounder warriors all shifted a step closer, preparing to strike; the Commander only raised her head an inch, her outward calm prevailing. Clarke tried to maintain eye contact as she drew the braid from her pocket.
"She told me you were her second," Clarke spoke carefully, holding the braid between her hands so they could all see it was no weapon. Lexa's reaction was interesting: eyes glued to the braid, a swallow, face firmly neutral. "I'm sure she'd want you to have this." Clarke stepped forward carefully, wanting to watch the Commander's reaction but unable to stop her eyes from darting nervously to the enormous guard who had originally brought her in and was hovering with zealously protective menace. But as Clarke stepped back again her eyes fell to Lexa, trying to read all she could from her, the care with which she held the braid, the tiniest caressing movement of her fingers across it.
"We don't know it's hers," the dark skinned warrior warned, that snarl still in her voice. Clarke just about restrained herself.
"Shof op, Indra."
Lexa's calm voice sharpened the tiniest amount, silencing her subordinate. Again Clarke didn't know the words but she tried not to let out a shit-eating grin because it sounded so like the Commander had just told her infuriatingly hateful general to 'shut up'.
"Anya was my mentor before I was called to lead my people," Lexa addressed Clarke again, her voice calm. Clarke wondered if she was imagining the hints of grief under the calm. "Did she die well?"
Lexa apparently couldn't maintain her calm, ask her question and look Clarke in the eye all at the same time.
I'm not imagining it; the Commander is human. Kane was right.
"Yes," the blonde replied firmly, meeting Lexa's gaze as it returned to her and trying to show the secretly grieving Commander that she grieved with her. "By my side, trying to get a message to you."
Come on, come on, come on-
"What message?"
Here goes.
"The only way to save both our people is if we join together."
"Those who are about to die will say anything." Again the dark skinned warrior voiced her scepticism with enough hate to launch a rocket. Clarke met her glare with one of her own, trying to find her own calm before meeting Lexa's gaze again.
"I'm still waiting for an offer, Clarke." Lexa's calm was back; Clarke wondered if she was perhaps hiding anger beneath it along with her grief or if she'd imagined that steeliness in her eyes. The blonde swallowed, reminded herself to breathe again.
"The Mountain Men are turning your people into Reapers." Lexa's eyes flashed her interest. "I can turn them back."
"Impossible," the dark skinned warrior interjected again.
"I've done it," Clarke insisted quickly, praying silently that she wasn't lying and that Lexa wouldn't see her uncertainty. "With Lincoln."
At this, the dark skinned warrior seemed to reach her limit. She snarled in outrage, advancing on Clarke as she spoke and Clarke had to work very hard not to back away
"That traitor is the reason-"
"Indra!" Lexa interrupted, her voice sharpening and her eyes narrowing as her general carried on.
"-my village was slaughtered by your people."
"Pleni!" the Commander roared, standing to her feet and demanding silence. Clarke's heart was hammering but the general, 'Indra' she thought, backed down.
She may be young but she certainly is 'the Commander'...
Clarke swallowed as Lexa walked towards her. The brunette was only slightly taller than Clarke and her movements graceful, but there was also a sense of innate, implacable power in her gait and in her stance that meant that, even though Lexa was much less aggressive than Indra had been, Clarke had to work at least as hard not to back away from her too.
"You say you can turn Reapers back into men?" the Commander's voice was quiet and relatively calm again, although the restrained snarling challenge was clear in its undertones.
"Yes," Clarke replied, again fighting to keep her voice as calm as Lexa's, to hold her ground.
"Then prove it," Lexa demanded, a slight flare of her nostrils and a curl of her lip showing Clarke how little the Commander trusted her. "Show me Lincoln."
Clarke swallowed, forced herself to breathe, prayed. Nodded.
Clarke's mind was stuttering and stumbling while trying to race at a thousand miles per hour as she lead the Grounders through the forest towards the drop ship. She was essentially betting the lives of everyone from the Arc on her mother's ability to save Lincoln. Abby Griffin was the best but...
What if she needs more time? I was at the Grounder camp for less than an hour, that can't have been enough time. What if- Maybe I should try and go a longer route- No, don't be stupid. They know where the drop ship is and they know these woods far better than I do; they'll see what I'm doing. I just have to trust mum- 'Cos that always works out so well- She's going to save him. She has to. Or we're all dead.
She glanced behind her warily, hoping the Grounders would not see her stress and understand its cause.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god... Breathe.
The drop ship came into view, the charred walls of the camp they'd made around it now housing the blackened skeletons of the Grounders that had died in the flames from the launch. Clarke wanted to smack herself in the face for not realising that that was the last thing she wanted the Grounders to be thinking of as she tried to forge an alliance with them.
Why, oh why, did we not think to clean this up or to at least house Lincoln somewhere else!?
Clarke felt her stomach dropping to her feet as she turned to face them and saw Lexa looking around at the destruction, at the scorched remains of 300 of her warriors. There was definitely fury under the calm this time.
"This way," she said, amazing herself with how calm her voice sounded bearing in mind the wild ravings of panic tumbling through her gut. She turned and led the way into the drop ship, forcefully reminding herself to breathe as she reached the ladder and heard the clang of footsteps on metal behind her.
"Lincoln!" Octavia's whimpering cries made Clarke's blood freeze as she climbed up into the holding room.
Oh god; that doesn't sound good.
She reached the upper floor and time seemed to slow as she saw Lincoln's lifeless form, Octavia sobbing over him, and then met her mother's eyes. She saw the fear erupt in them as Abby realised what was about to happen.
Time suddenly resumed its normal pace and an almost blind panic rose in Clarke's chest at the sounds of Lexa, Indra and the rest of Lexa's guard climbing up the ladder behind her; she could practically feel their building rage at the evidence of her failure before them. Lexa's eyes flashed with fire and ice and steel as she took in the scene before her.
All it took was one curt nod from the Commander to the all-too-eager Indra.
"Kill them all!" the dark skinned warrior snarled and swords were drawn, battle stances taken. Clarke saw Bellamy reaching for his gun and her mother grabbing for an electrified baton. Stalemate.
"Please," Clarke turned to Lexa, willing to beg by this point. "You don't have to do this-"
"You lied," the Commander cut her off. "And you're out of time."
And then things changed so fast Clarke almost wasn't sure what happened. There was the buzzing hum of electricity in the air and Abby was kneeling over Lincoln's body, the electrified baton in her hand and a terrified look on her face.
My mother is a genius.
Clarke had never been so glad of her mother's skills and quick thinking as she was in that moment. Not to mention the fact that all the Grounders in the room seemed to have been frozen by their confusion as to what Abby was doing and why.
"Hit him again," Clarke said, hope now battling the fear in her throat.
Electricity buzzed again as Abby jabbed the baton at Lincoln's chest, making the charge rattle through him.
Never had a moment seemed so long.
Lincoln gasped, his eyes shooting open and searching wildly, humanly for something to recognise.
"Lincoln!" Octavia cried and with that the big Grounder's eyes fixed on her, settling with recognition like they hadn't since his transformation into the monster.
"Octavia?" he whispered groggily; never had Clarke been so happy to hear his voice.
She heard the clink of metal behind her, the sound of a blade sliding against its sheath, and whipped around, her fear exploding into relief as she saw that Lexa was sheathing her blade, not drawing it. The Commander's pale eyes met hers, seeming almost to glow against the black war paint on her face, and Lexa nodded, signalling the stand down to her warriors and bursting the bubble of stress in Clarke's chest that had almost stopped her from breathing altogether.
"We have much to discuss," Lexa said, her eyes still on Clarke, still wary but just maybe tinged with a little hint of respect.
Clarke tried not to feel giddy as she followed Lexa into her tent, the Commander's cloak trailing after her regally. The blonde girl made herself breathe, stand taller and look the Commander in the eye, demanding the respect that the saving of Lincoln had earned.
"Lincoln's recovery was... impressive," the Commander spoke with that steady calm that Clarke was beginning to associate with her. But she didn't think it was impassivity so much as absolute composure, absolute control. "No one's ever survived such a fate before."
"It's not complicated, really," she replied, aiming to match Lexa's self-possession. "We just have to keep them alive long enough for the drug to leave their system. I know we can do the same for others."
Clarke forced herself to not hold her breath as the brunette's pale, calculating eyes rested on her for a moment, the silence full of assessment and deliberation.
"You may have your truce."
The desire to scream and shout for joy and relief was pretty strong in Clarke's chest; she barely managed to contain it even in the face of Lexa's cool dispassion.
"Thank you," she replied, trying to keep her voice even but unable to keep all of her breathy relief in.
"I just need one thing in return," the Commander asked and Clarke only just stopped herself from replying 'anything'.
"Tell me."
"Deliver me the one you call Finn." Clarke's joy froze, ice cracking its way down her spine as she realised she knew what Lexa was about to say. "Our truce begins with his death."
Clarke could practically feel the blood draining from her face, feel the bile pooling in her stomach, threatening to rise.
"Finn," she repeated stupidly, unable to find any of the composure she'd been trying to display.
"Yes," Lexa replied calmly. "As a good-will gesture in honour of our truce, I will only take his one life for the eighteen innocents he murdered. I cannot promise you that all of my people will be happy about this mercy, but I can promise that I will hold them to it."
Clarke had to work hard not to choke at the word 'mercy'.
Her mind whirled on a nauseous merry-go-round of refusing to give him up, recognising why Lexa said she must and why it was called mercy, recognising that she was in no position to refuse the Commander, but unable to even contemplate saying yes.
"Clarke," Lexa's voice sounded again, jerking the blonde from her horrified reverie. Clarke made herself meet the Commander's eyes; she nearly cried out at the flash of steel and unyielding resolve she saw in them.
"May I discuss this with my people?" she managed to squeeze the words out, desperate to buy some time, hoping that somehow it would present an alternative.
One of Lexa's eyebrows quirked minutely.
"You may," she said after a short silence. "But your discussions will not be long. You have until tomorrow's sunset to give him up."
Less than 24 hours. I have less than 24 hours to think of a way to save Finn without the Commander massacring everyone one I care about.
Clarke just about managed to nod. Lexa watched her for a moment more and Clarke wondered briefly if she was expecting thanks. She couldn't have said it if she'd wanted to.
Lexa nodded once, turning abruptly to one of the guards on the door.
"Escort Clarke of the Sky People back to her camp and await the delivery of the prisoner."
And with that Clarke was dismissed.
She walked in a daze, her mind barely able to comprehend the enormity of what was happening. She pictured Finn's face, the way he smiled and laughed. She pictured him holding an automatic weapon, standing over the unarmed bodies of those he'd murdered. She tried to picture herself explaining to Lexa, to Indra, that he hadn't meant it, it was an accident; he wasn't himself. She tried to picture herself ever looking at him again like she had before.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Hope you enjoyed it; let me know either way J