Title: Storm Warning
By: garlic
Disclaimer: The 100 and affiliated property of Jason Rothenberg, The CW.
Summary: Some things are inevitable.
AN: Yet another fic that will turn out to be non-canon. Probably. I'll totally make a drinking game out of this and take a shot every time I got something right.
Clarke hit the ground with an unceremonious crash as the two guards tossed her into a cell. By the time she had recovered enough to lash out the doors had shut, leaving her to curse liberally when the heel of her boot ricochet off the metal bars.
God fucking damn it fucking Lexa I will fucking tear her throat out-the bars shuddered when Clarke viciously kicked them again from where she lay.
When they didn't give - not that she really expected them to - Clarke collapsed back in a huff, splaying across the floor. The rush of anger (that was generous, it had been pure, unadulterated rage) was quickly draining, leaving her weak and exhausted, and just a tiny bit ashamed. Losing control like that...it felt wrong, no matter how much satisfaction she got at Lexa's flinch when she spit at her.
Yes, she enjoyed that. Lexa may be a stone wall to everyone else, but Clarke knew her. All that time together, planning war in the close quarters of her tent, observing the minute facial tics, the shift of her eyes, the clench in her jaw...and most telling, the softness in her gaze and the barely-there bob in her throat when she swallowed her nerves that Clarke was almost positive only she got to witness.
Lexa had bared vulnerabilities to her, whether conscious or not, and seeing those same weaknesses play out as she screamed her hate set off a conflicting roil of vindication and guilt in her gut.
Because she hated Lexa. She did.
But she loved her too.
She groaned, and pressed her palms over her eyes. If only she could ignore the pained look in Lexa's eyes. Ignore the soft quality in Lexa's voice reserved only for her. Ignore everything that drew her to Lexa in the first place, and just concentrate on the hurt and the anger.
"Well, this is unexpected. What could possibly bring Wanheda down to the prisons with me?"
Clarke startled, immediately sitting up and shimmying to the far side of her jail cell, away from the familiar, oily voice. She peered through the dim light, heart hammering in her chest. "...Roan?"
Like an apparition he appeared, face coalescing from the dark to hover smirking between the bars that made up their shared cell walls. It sent a cold shiver down her spine when Lexa's voice whispered from her memory. Prince Roan of Azgeda. Whatever she might think of Lexa, the Ice Queen was someone she was even more disinclined to deal with, and to have been in the hands of her son...her mind whirled.
But he had been banished. By Lexa? That didn't make much sense. Roan said he wanted to return to his birth home. If Lexa hated him so, why would she want him roaming around her own lands? Wouldn't she instead banish him to the Ice Nation, not letting him leave to potentially wreak havoc amongst her allies? What really happened?
Her mouth opened, but clicked shut when Roan laughed softly, eyes glittering hard. "I thought Heda wanted you unharmed. I guess she just wanted to do that herself."
Clarke had to bite back her immediate answer 'Lexa wouldn't hurt me' because that simply wasn't true. Not anymore. It galled her to find herself reflexively thinking that still, after all this time. She had grown so used to it, the inexplicable sense of safety she had used to feel around Lexa, because of Lexa. The certainty that throughout everything - Finn, Quint, Tondc, Lexa wouldn't lay a hand against her, would stop anyone else from harming her.
She diverted that train of thought, clamped down on any thoughts of Lexa with practiced ease. "What about you? You seemed so sure bringing me here would get you what you wanted."
The smug smile dripped off Roan's face, turning stoic, yet still subtly twisted with menace. "I can't say I'm surprised. That's what she does, you know. Break her word."
And a little bit of Clarke died at that. Because it was true, so true, and she was here with the ghosts of an entire civilization haunting her because of it. But it was also so, so wrong, because Lexa had kept every promise she made Clarke except one.
A surge of resentment tasted bitter on her tongue at the entire situation. It was Roan, after all, that brought her here in the first place. "I guess you're regretting not taking me to your mother now, huh." She could see him grinding his teeth at her pointed words.
"My mother," he chuckled around an angry sneer. "Is no better than the Commander."
There it was again. That little inkling that things weren't what they appeared. Fraught as her own relationship with her own mother might be, Clarke knew there wasn't much that could truly keep a mother from her children if they were intent on it. No, if the Ice Queen wanted Roan by her side, she would have found a way, Lexa's commands be damned.
"She's the one who banished you, not the Commander." Clarke swallowed as the facts began to line up in her head. As Heda, her will would supersede any other clan leader's mandate. That's why Roan said only Lexa could lift his banishment.
Roan's gaze caught her own and something, the same something she had seen in that underground camp, flashed in his eyes.
"I made a judgement call. She didn't approve." He shook his head, laugh rough and self-deprecating. "If I had known Heda would be no better, I would have made a different choice." His stare burned into Clarke. "Like you would too, I suspect."
A clang startled them from their staring contest, and they both turned to watch as a guard passed their cells, eying them suspiciously. Roan threw his palms up in capitulation, sinking backwards away from Clarke. She noticed the guard didn't meet her eyes.
They sat in silence even after they were once again alone, and Clarke could feel her exhaustion weighting her limbs and tugging at her eyelids. She was just falling into a fitful sleep when a loud rustle snapped her awake. She wiped at her eyes and found Roan back at the bars, staring intently at her. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "What?"
He simply considered her for a few long moments. "You...you want revenge." He shook his head lightly. "...No. Justice."
Clarke's eyes rounded in surprise, breath catching in her chest.
He shuffled, and then a dagger slid between the bars. The blade arced and gleamed in the low light, and Clarke recognized it as the same one he had used to cauterize his wound. The same one he had held to her throat. He hefted it up, offering it to her. "Take it."
Clarke blinked. Unease churned her stomach.
"She will call upon you." The dagger was laid gently to the floor of Clarke's cell. "You are Wanheda. She will not leave you rotting in here with me."
Clarke swallowed. "You want me to kill her," she hushed out. One part of her, the furious, wounded part writhed in excitement at the opportunity. In her mind's eye she could see it, silver slashing across Lexa's throat, followed by red, so much red.
She felt like throwing up.
Still, she crawled forward, reaching down and gingerly picking up the weapon. Roan sat back, looking almost resigned. "At least now you will have a chance. More than I."
Clarke slid the dagger under her clothes and closed her eyes.
Jus drein, jus draun.
The rattling of metal woke Clarke from her slumber, and she barely had time to open her eyes before she was yanked to her feet.
"Wha-what's going on?" She rasped out, twisting to escape the hard grip on her arms. That only garnered her a hard shake, and Clarke quieted, glaring petulantly and digging in her heels. Whatever expression the guards may have worn was lost under their masks, but Clarke could feel the exasperation rolling off them in waves. She smirked inwardly when they simply readjusted their grip and hauled her aloft, practically carrying her out. Like hell she was going to make things easy for them.
For a brief moment her eyes locked with Roan's as they left. He gave her the tiniest of nods. Clarke felt her nausea return.
Thankfully there was no burlap sack over head this time as she was escorted through the...wherever this was. Curiously she craned her head, taking in all she could.
The walls held a slight curve - Clarke thought that the building they were in was perhaps circular in shape - and under the decades of dirt and soot and general age she could see it used to be a shiny, milky white. She was interrupted from her musing when the they neared an opening in the wall, a lone sentry moving aside to let them through. A sizable platform creaked as they stepped aboard, and Clarke couldn't hold back a gasp when the platform began to rise.
It was a primitive elevator of sorts. The whine and rattle of ropes and pulleys caught her eye, and she recognized this as the same contraption she had felt under her feet when she was first brought to this place.
What she didn't expect was how far up they were. She could hear the howl of the wind and feel the strong drafts swirl and echo down, down, down. Further than the mountain men had burrowed did the elevator shaft extend. Dizzily she wondered just how high they were. Before long the platform shuddered to a stop, and they were once again on the move. This new hall had been decorated, draped with fabrics and lined with ornate torches. She was contemplating if it would be worth it to try and knock one over and start a fire in an attempt to escape when a door to her left was thrown open, the tall, bald man from Lexa's throne room beckoning her guards in.
"In hir."
With a grunt her guards swiftly deposited her into the room, releasing her immediately and backing away. Clarke rubbed at her biceps, glaring at the robed man who calmly swept his eyes over her form. She squared her shoulders and glared right back, resisting the urge to ask the myriad of questions that brewed on the tip of her tongue. She had a feeling this man wouldn't answer.
She was proven right when he turned and left without another word. The guards followed, and the doors firmly shut.
Great. Now what? Clarke pivoted, looking around.
It was a nice enough room. There was a (really comfortable looking) bed off to the side, piled high with furs. Dressers and tables lined the walls, and thick rugs scattered over the floor. There was even a small balcony, and with trepidation Clarke walked closer.
The view took her breath away.
This was Polis. The city stretched out, farther than she ever imagined, buildings marching in straight rows one after the other. She could hear the bustle of life even from up here, and hastily Clarke stepped back before the creeping sense of vertigo could overwhelm her. She turned away, bracing her palms against one of the tables.
This was the city Lexa had wanted her to see. The city she was so proud of. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar threads of panic and anger clawed around her heart.
The city Lexa had invited her to before she stabbed her in the back.
Clarke lifted a hand to her diaphragm, breathing in deep, trying to calm herself. A nudge bumped against her palm, and with a start she slid her hand into the folds of her jacket, fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife she had forgotten was there.
Then behind her, the creak of the door. Soft footsteps padded in. She could feel it in her bones without even looking. It was Lexa. Without a second thought she moved, whirling and drawing the dagger from it's hiding place. She could see the slight widening of surprised green eyes as her hand snaked out to grip at the back of a long slender neck, could hear the sharp intake of breath when she edged the dagger to the base of her throat.
Everything burned.
From the back of eyes to her palm around the handle of the knife. From her fingertips digging through thick hair to where their hips pressed against each other.
And all Lexa did was look at her. With sorrow and pity and acceptance in her eyes.
I hate you.
Her hands trembled.
I hate you. I hate you.
Lexa's head tilted, ever so slightly.
Unbidden Clarke's gaze dropped, skipping haltingly over full lips to the delicate skin pressing into the sharp curve of Clarke's blade.
Lexa leaned forward, and Clarke snapped her eyes back up in disbelief, shoving her back. What did she think she was doing? She gripped the knife harder, knuckles white. Why wasn't she fighting back?
"Do you know what I've done? What I had to do, because you left?" Clarke could feel moisture gather beneath her eyes. "Why they call me Wanheda?"
"Yes."
The tears bubbled and spilled over, tracking down Clarke's cheeks. "I guess you're so proud, huh? All those lessons really paid off."
There was a wet sheen in Lexa's eyes that Clarke desperately wanted to ignore. "I never meant to turn you into this."
Laughter, sharp and hysterical, burst from her lips. "What? A monster?"
Lexa gave the barest shake of her head. "Haunted."
The knife clattered to the floor and Clarke shifted to grip hard at the lapels of Lexa's coat. Why? Why did the one person who she never wanted to see again have to be the only one to understand? Clarke was so sick of running. From the Arkers, from the Trikru. From the unrelenting ghosts of the innocents from the mountain. She buried her head into Lexa's shoulder, and horribly, terribly, felt safe. And she cried.
…
When Clarke had finally calmed Lexa allowed her to squirm out of her embrace with no resistance, masking the slight twitch in her fingers by moving to pour a cup of water. Clarke accepted it wordlessly when offered, retreating to a nearby chair, at a loss on how to proceed. She certainly didn't want to talk about their past - not now, sapped of strength and emotions so brittle it felt the slightest pressure would make her crack. So she did what she was good at. Pushed aside everything to concentrate on the now. She would start with the prisoner left behind in the jail.
"What's the deal with Roan?"
If Lexa felt thrown off by the sudden topic she didn't show it.
"Roan was once a general in the Azgeda army. His mother tasked him with two important missions. One he succeeded, the other he did not.
"The first was to find leverage against me."
Clarke's stomach bottomed out. She knew which mission that was.
"The second was to take a key city south of their borders, one that would ensure the rest of their army safe passage to Polis." Lexa glanced at her then, the slightest furrow in her brow. "It was promising to be a long and bloody battle. A few days into the siege...he surrendered. Took what was left of his troops and retreated back into Azgeda territory. Losing that battle was one of the final blows of the war. The rest of the our army was too massive to defeat without strategic footholds, and the Ice Queen had no choice but to...rethink her stance on joining the coalition." Lexa practically spat that last sentence out in distaste, and Clarke knew that if Lexa were any less the leader she was, she would have continued to wage a swath of destruction through the Ice Nation.
But no personal desire, no singular oath would be held above the one she made to her people.
"You agreed to let her join."
Lexa nodded stiffly. "We were already fighting a war with the Mountain." She flicked her hand dismissively. "These wars amongst our clans...a waste of lives and resources."
"So that's why the Queen banished her own son? Because he lost the battle that lost the war?"
Lexa eyed her askance, clearly wondering if Roan had divulged that bit of information. "Among other things, yes."
"And you won't lift the banishment, overrule it, because...because he took Costia."
The sudden clench at her jaw pulsed with fury, and for the first time Lexa looked at Clarke with angry heat behind her gaze. When she spoke her words were clipped and measured, intense with ire. "That-" she ground out, "is the least of my current worries. I said before, Nia marches on Polis. Should I set him free, what guarantee do I have that he does not simply rejoin her forces? Tell her whatever information he has gleaned after living so long amongst my people? If I was so fixated on revenge, I would have had him banished to the Dead Zone long ago."
Or simply have him killed was the unspoken alternative.
"So why now? Why would the Ice Queen move against the coalition?"
"Because of you."
Clarke reared back. "What, because you guys decided to call me 'Wanheda?'" She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Do they think I'm out to kill everybody or something?"
"No. You have done what no other has done in taking down the mountain." Lexa hands fisted, and Clarke thought she actually saw shame shade her eyes. "You have succeeded where I failed. It stirs rumors of weakness, and that is the opening Nia thinks can use to fracture the coalition."
And if the coalition falls, war will break out, and no clan, even the Skaikru, would remain unscathed. "And you need me to what? Convince my people to side with you again?" Clarke scoffed. "Yeah, I don't see that happening."
Lexa pinned her with a wide stare, evergreen and so, so earnest. "Not a truce. Not an alliance. I want your people to become my people. Join the coalition, and become the thirteenth clan."
Clarke gaped. "You-you must be kidding."
Brows furrowed. "Kidding?"
Clarke spun, starting a frenetic pace, digging her fingers into her scalp in agitation. Lexa watched her silently, eyes intense, liquid with emotion and Clarke stubbornly avoided thinking about what that meant.
She jerked to a stop, whirling to face Lexa. "Why me. You know my mother is Chancellor. You know my," her voice wobbled over that word, because they were her people, but she had left them, "...people rule by council. You should be talking to Abby and Kane."
That imperious head tilt simultaneously infuriated her and aroused her, and Clarke absolutely hated the effect Lexa could have on her, still.
"You are a leader, Clarke. Your people listen to you."
"And you need me."
A beat of hesitation, but Lexa nodded, once, slow and deliberate. "...But that is not all. The coalition needs you, it's true. But I...I could not stand by and let you fall into the Ice Queen's hands." It rested unspoken in the air. Not again.
The quiet admission caught her off guard, breath stuttering in her lungs. It would always surprise her, the admission that she cared. And despite everything, Clarke still believed her.
And of course she already knew Lexa would do anything to save her people.
"What do I need to do?"
For the first time, Lexa actually looked a bit uncomfortable. "You must bow to me." The slightest trepidation her voice let on that she knew what Clarke's reaction to that would be. Clarke didn't disappoint.
"I will never bow to you." She growled out, eyes icy with flint.
"It is ceremonious only, Clarke. You know I do not-" Her jaw clicked shut, eyes shying away before returning. "I value you as an equal. But Wanheda…"
"Wanheda is a threat, and you have to show you're in control." Clarke replied flatly.
Another measured nod.
Clarke let her eyes slip shut, thoughts racing through her mind, overlapping each other. She understood - the grounders had their traditions just as the Arkers had theirs, and as demeaning as she found the act, deferring to Lexa was much more preferable an option than letting the coalition shatter, with all the messy consequences that would ensue. Her jaw clenched. "Fine."
The hopeful look on Lexa's face warmed her cheeks, and she silently chastised herself. Thankfully Lexa wrested her expression back under control, although the pleased flush didn't quite disappear.
"What do we do to get this done?"
Lexa's shoulders straightened. "First we broach the proposal to the heads of the clans. There will be a vote."
Clarke frowned. "Wait, so you just can't...induct us in yourself?"
"No. While in times of war I have the authority to make unilateral decisions, all clans must have a voice concerning important matters such as this."
"So does it need to be unanimous, or is this a majority rules situation? Because I'm guessing if it's the former, we're screwed."
Lexa loosed a wry smile. "It is a majority vote. And yes, the Ice Queen will no doubt vote against us. But I do not believe she has garnered enough support to tip the scales in her favor."
Clarke nodded. "Okay. So when do you convene a vote?"
At this Lexa steeled herself, and Clarke stiffened. "What?" She was almost afraid to ask.
"As soon as your council representatives arrive."
Dread immediately rose like bile to her throat. "Who?" She managed to croak out. Lexa shifted on her feet, and Clarke didn't even know why she bothered asking.
"I have received word that Abby Griffin, Marcus Kane, and Bellamy Blake will arrive tomorrow."
Damn it. Clarke wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready to see the people she had abandoned without a second look back. Wasn't ready to see her mother's teary, disappointed gaze or Bellamy's sad, uncomprehending stare. "I thought you needed me for this?" She accused.
"I do. But like you said, Clarke, I know your people govern by council. I know they will need to be included in this." She stepped forward, edging just within Clarke's personal space. "But my people need to see you."
"Right. See me kneeling at your feet." She injected enough venom into her voice to make Lexa flinch backwards, and Clarke found she could breath just a bit easier when the woodsy smell of pine and leather and Lexa receded. And she refused to feel bad at that soft, wounded quality in those green eyes. "Fine. Tomorrow."
They stood there, the silence turning heavy and awkward, before Lexa finally gave. "Tomorrow." And with a rigid about face she left, coattails flaring behind her.
Clarke was waiting when the three Skaikru advisors were shown into a small meeting room.
"Hey mom." Clarke managed a weak, wobbly smile before Abby rushed to her, wrapping her up in a tight hug that stole the air from her lungs. The tears she had tried so hard to keep at bay spilled over, and with a quiet sob she burrowed further into that comforting embrace.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Was all she could manage to croak out, and Abby simply squeezed tighter, head shaking, murmuring forgiveness and assurances, and for the first time in months Clarke felt that maybe she deserved them.
When they finally parted, teary-eyed, Clarke turned hesitantly towards Bellamy. Nerves gnawed in her gut, and she hoped that she hadn't irreparably ruined their friendship.
She needn't have worried. Though a pained darkness lurked in his eyes, hunched his shoulders, he nevertheless gave her a shaky grin, wrapping his solid arms about her shoulders. "Glad to see you're okay, Clarke. You really had us worried there, for a bit."
Clarke laughed into his chest at that, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, sorry. I'll try not to that again."
She received three dubious looks at that, but Clarke decided to ignore them, instead nodding a greeting to Kane, who stepped up with a warm smile. "It's good to see you again Clarke. When Indra came to us to tell us about the bounty-"
"Wait, Indra?" Clarke butt in.
Kane raised an eyebrow, patiently letting her interruption pass. "Yes. She's the one who told us the Azgeda Queen was after you, came with us to find you."
Clarke stepped back, bumping against a chair and abruptly sitting down in a daze. But Indra was there when I was brought to Polis? She frowned as she realized that once again, Lexa had left out some details of her search for her. She looked at Bellamy. "She helped you find me when-" Her eyes widened, and she jumped up, surprised the trio. "Oh my god, Bellamy! Are you okay? Roan, he stabbed you-"
Bellamy swatted away her searching hands. "I'm fine. Chancellor Griffin stitched me all up."
Clarke leaned back down in relief. "That's good. Good." She smiled wanly. "Thank you, for coming to get me."
Bellamy was opening his mouth to respond when the door swung open. Immediately backs stiffened when whirl of black and red strode in. Clarke could see the veneer of hostility glaze over Abby and Bellamy's faces, both raising their chins defiantly, arms crossed angrily over puffed out chests.
Clarke may have found that a bit posturing, if only she hadn't reacted pretty much the same (worse) just the other day. She sighed at the headache that was already forming. A quick glance to the side showed that Kane at least still respected the Commander, though with a newfound guardedness.
"Chancellor Griffin, Marcus kom Skaikru, Bellamy kom Skaikru. Welcome to Polis."
If there was one person who glares were wasted upon, it was Lexa. Clarke almost rolled her eyes. She already knew was going to have to lead this discussion, because otherwise the entire time would be spent with her mom making badly veiled insults and Lexa either talking over her or flat out ignoring her. The ego of it all. She groused.
In fact she could see Abby gearing up for some scathing comment, and by the quick step Kane was making towards her she could tell it was something that had been building for a while. Since you disappeared on her. She inwardly absorbed the flinch that accompanied that thought.
"Okay! Why don't we all have a seat?" She shot her mom a warning look, repeating the motion when Bellamy opened his mouth to protest.
Kane, bless his diplomatic heart, jumped to assist. "Yes, thank you for having us here, Commander. But time isn't on our side, we should get right to it, right Clarke?"
"Right," she agreed, staring hard at Abby.
"Right," Abby ground out, glaring hard at Lexa.
"Right." Bellamy frowned, but took a seat.
Lexa merely sat at the head of the table with a flourish like she had been waiting on them to get here, and Clarke didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or slap her.
"Right." She repeated again, lowering herself into the chair immediately to Lexa's right, studiously ignoring the way her mother's brow creased at her deliberate proximity to Lexa.
She looked at Lexa, who lifted an eyebrow at her, and god damn it why does she have to be such a jerk? Fine. She cleared her throat, turning back to a still glowering Abby and Bellamy and an attentive Kane. "So, about this proposal…"
The door slammed behind her, and Clarke whirled to glare at Lexa. "You were no help at all!" She seethed, jabbing a finger into her unarmored shoulder. Lexa bore her rabid poking with barely concealed humor.
"You handled the room admirably, Clarke."
Clarke growled when Lexa blithely continued. "The council meets tonight." The rumble in Clarke's throat abruptly died when Lexa stepped close, eyes gentle, but intent. "Keep in mind, Clarke, you are a leader." That sharp chin tilted, gaze proud. "No matter what dissent, make your voice heard."
A blond eyebrow rose. "More advice? Really?"
Lexa raised a sardonic eyebrow of her own. "If it is of no help to you, feel free to disregard it."
Sometimes, Clarke really wanted to slap her.
And sometimes, Clarke really wanted to hug her, to step between Lexa and the Ice Queen's smug sneer when she hissed out a leader's challenge during the council meeting, barbed tongue slinging insults of weakness and complacency.
Instead she just stood there, transfixed at the pulsing clench at a sharp jawline, at the furious, hurt glower as Lexa snarled her response.
They knew Nia would not accept this proposal without a fight. Clarke just hadn't expected that to be so literal.
"Why are you doing this?"
Lexa's back stiffened, but she didn't turn from where she stood, strapping on the bracer to her left forearm. "I told you, Clarke. Your people will be my people."
"Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op."
Lexa startled, head jerking up to peer over her shoulder, eyes wide.
Clarke kicked at the floor. "Yeah, I didn't know what that meant then, but I do now." She moved slowly towards that rigid form, keeping her footsteps sure and light. In contrast her tone was thick and accusing. "You didn't tell me any of the Clan leaders could challenge you in a fight to the death."
Lexa didn't move. "It is how-"
"Yeah yeah, it's how you guys 'are.'" Clarke threw in some air quotes to indicate how stupid she found this particular custom, but could see it was lost at Lexa's blank stare. She sighed. "And what's with naming Roan as her champion?"
"Nia doesn't fight her own battles." The scorn was heavy in her voice, and Clarke vividly remembers Lexa taking point at the top of Mount Weather, personally leading an attack on the snipers and gunners firing upon them. She felt the familiar burn of rage when the memory of what happened after inevitably followed, but it was muted now, lessened by understanding. "And Roan, although banished, is still an Azgeda Prince, and may represent his clan."
Lexa finally turned, caught somewhere between resignation and determination. "It is no secret what Nia has offered him to encourage him to take up this challenge." Clarke read the fine line of exhaustion in her voice. The unspoken 'what if' - if she had lifted his banishment, would he have returned to the Ice Nation, but not his mother? Once again washed his hands of a war he didn't believe in?
Clarke shook her head, hand automatically rising to reach for Lexa's arm, only to pause mid-air. She hovered there, torn between wanting to offer comfort and not being ready to touch. Lexa watched her closely, lips barely curved in a sad, knowing smile. Clarke's fingered curled, fist dropping uselessly to her side.
"Even if she hadn't offered to pardon him herself, even with Roan out of the picture, she would still make the challenge. There'd still be a fight."
Lexa nodded. "And I would still have to answer."
Clarke swallowed. She spent a couple months giving everything to her people and it nearly destroyed her. It was so easy to forget that Lexa, just as human and youthful as she was, had spent years with the weight of thousands on her shoulders, with no one there to help bear the load.
She could barely get any more words past her throat, knowing how useless it was to think about just how unfair it all was. "Don't die."
Lexa dipped her head at her hoarse whisper, the faintest of smiles gracing her lips and stripping the years and severity from her face.
"My spirit will stay where it is, Clarke."
Clarke watched her go, back proud and straight, every inch of the Heda. It was reassuring, but she knew, just as Lexa did...
No matter the outcome, war was coming.