Leaves and twigs cracked under Lexa's tread as she made her way through the forest. She knew the land well and having received notice from her scouts that a certain heda kom skaikru was by the stream, she felt her heart pull her in that direction.
Many of her guards insisted they go with her for protection but she had refused. Whatever Clarke did to her, she deserved. Catching sight of the owner of the matted golden locks and skaikru jacket sitting on a large boulder, Lexa halted suddenly in her tracks. Fear of seeing Clarke's face washed over her. She couldn't bear to see the anger, or even worse, disappointment, that she was the direct cause of.
To the average person's eye, Clarke seemed calm, peaceful even, but Lexa knew something wasn't quite right. Her posture was far too stiff and there was a general air of heaviness surrounding her.
Swallowing her qualms, she stepped toward the stream with a softer tread. She wasn't exactly being particularly quiet but Clarke didn't seem to acknowledge her presence.
"My scouts informed me that you succeeded." She ventured hoping Clarke wouldn't be too startled.
Still, Clarke remained silent, staring into the crystal clear water that rushed down the rocks. Lexa had expected violence, fury, but not this. She felt awkward, standing in full battle armour despite it being two days after the 'battle'. She hadn't wanted to remove it, somehow that made her decision real.
It was not that she thought she made the wrong decision. She knew it was the right thing to do for the sake of her people. But that didn't make it hurt any less. She kept trying to remind herself that hodnes laik kwelnes – love is weakness, but that hole still lay inside her, not only from Clarke, but also from Costia, Gustus and all those that had let die so that others could live.
Lexa moved closer and closer until she could reach out and touch her if she wished. Clarke didn't move a muscle and both leaders stared at the scenery that lay before them. Neither girl said a word for more than ten minutes, each simply content with being in each other's presence without having to acknowledge the tensions and responsibilities that plagued them.
Finally Clarke broke the silence.
"I murdered them, Lexa." Her voice was so quiet and broken that Lexa found her heart breaking yet again. "Innocent people, children, men and women that helped us. A-and I killed them all."
Clarke turned to face Lexa, hot tears spilling from her eyes. Another hole teared open in Lexa's heart as she saw the look of self-loathing and regret that she was so used to seeing in her own reflection.
Part of her wanted to tell Clarke to push past it, remember that feelings of empathy and regret make you weak, but something stopped her. Lexa knew all too well the feelings of anguish Clarke must have been suffering from, and as much as she tried to convince herself and others that she had let go of them and she didn't care, Clarke somehow managed to see past her walls and find the wreck she held within.
Clarke saw the empathy in Lexa's eyes. Without her war paint she looked so much softer and more human. Bellamy's words about sharing the blame echoed in her head, but she knew he didn't understand, not fully.
For him the mission was a success; they got most of their people out alive and got rid of the threat of the Mountain Men. He wasn't tormented by the image of hundreds of burnt bodies every time he closed his eyes. She had felt, looking into his concerned but relieved face, that no one could understand the pain she was going through. But that wasn't completely true. The young commander sitting before her with wide eyes filled to the brim with sorrow and remorse understood.
"I just wanted to be one of the good guys." Clarke whimpered.
Impulsively, Lexa reached for Clarke's hands. Clarke jerked in surprise but then relaxed and let them be enveloped by Lexa's surprisingly soft ones.
"There are no good guys, Clarke." She spoke in the same voice she had used when first admitting her feelings to her in that tent. "There are only those who are able to make the right decisions, even in the hardest times."
Her words made little impact in reassuring her but the knowledge that there was someone who understood was almost enough to relieve the pain, if only for a moment.
But with one flash of memory, her pain reared up again. Shaking she tried desperately to clean her hands of the blood that was smeared on them, but unlike with Finn, this blood could not be washed off. The collected deaths of all those people had stained her skin and were now part of her.
"Why me? I never asked for any of this. I never wanted any of this. Everyone was always counting on me and I never asked them to. I just did what I thought was right but it wasn't enough, it was never enough. I just want to go back. I want my dad back, I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home…"
Clarke could feel herself being buried in Lexa's arms. The embrace was uncomfortable, Lexa's armour digging into her, but she didn't care. Her tears soaked Lexa's clothing as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Lexa's heart finally shattered into pieces as the girl she loved broke down in her arms. She wiped her own eyes, unsure when her own tears had begun to fall. Everything about Clarke hit too close to home. Lexa began to feel her mask crumbling and her walls crashing down as Clarke's shoulders heaved with anguish.
If love was weakness, then Lexa most definitely was weak.
Eventually their tears dried, but instead of pulling away, Clarke rested her head on Lexa's shoulder, and Lexa kept her arm wrapped protectively around Clarke. And the two girls simply sat together, sharing warmth, until well after the sun went down.