Disclaimer: Not my characters. I am no richer (money wise) for writing this and posting it.
AN: This is something that I had to put into words. I'm such a mess right now, guys. I miss Lexa so much it hurts. *sad face* Also, I know the photo we saw of the rifle had the engraved names on the strap, but for aesthetics, the names are on the rifle and the strap.
Italics with "quotes" denote trigedasleng is being spoken.
Italics without quotes are thoughts.
Please enjoy and feel free to cry along with me.
Long live Lexa.
A rifle, like many weapons, is light enough not to be a burden, but heavy enough to be worthy of carrying it around.
Clarke had stumbled upon the rifle two years after Praimfaya.
Its rusted body and tattered strap lay hidden beneath foliage that had begun to paint the earth green once again.
The same green she had fallen into. The same shade of green that had once decorated the eyes of the woman she loved.
For two years Clarke had roamed the land alone. Afraid that she had been destined to live and die without companionship. Because so far, life had been cruel enough to allow love to enter her life, but not stay in it. Any kind of love. All kinds of love.
Then, without warning, her world changed completely.
Again.
She smelled the smoke long before she had seen it. The distinct odor ignited a flame of hope within her.
Yet an ephemeral thought forced her steps to halt as she calculated the possibility that a long burning fire had just ran its course. She dismissed it as she recalled the last fire to die had done so a year prior. This had to be someone, a living person that had survived along with her somehow.
But how?
Another bunker?
Another nightblood?
But the nightbloods were gone.
Or so she thought.
When she approached the area, she did so from behind the thickest part of the tree cover she could find. Her feet light and her arm ready with the rifle trained on the possible target. She knew firing the weapon was her last resort, but after two years of no human contact, any survivors (including her) could be guarded and ready to defend. Best she be safe than sorry.
She moved in closer, occasionally looking through the scope to gauge any movement. For a few anxious moments she saw no one. Nothing but the dying fire where the cloud rose from, but when she saw the makeshift shelter made from furs and fallen branches she held her breath. Someone was definitely nearby.
Clarke's next move admittedly was not the smartest, but when she caught sight of the small body that emerged from the canopy she immediately let down her guard.
Her rifle fell to her side, the strap securing it across her chest.
"Hello?" She shuffled carefully towards the young child with her hands up to signal she meant no harm.
Her intentions were noble, but that only went so far as she stunned the kid into a short-lived moment of panic before they decided survival was priority over fear.
The young girl produced a hand-sharpened dagger and crouched into a fighting stance.
Clarke back-pedaled reflexively before shaking her hands in front of her. "No, no. I'm not here to hurt you. Put the dagger down."
Fierce blue eyes studied Clarke in confusion as the weapon remained ready in the child's grip.
"What's your name?" The blonde asked with a small smile, but furrowed her brows when she got no response. "Can you understand me?" No luck. "What's your name?" She asked again, this time in trigedasleng.
Though the young child's eyes did soften, the dagger remained at the ready. "I am Maddie. Who are you?"
"My name is Clarke." She smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you, Maddie. Put your weapon down."
"You first." The child replied with surprising authority as she eyed the rifle draped over the woman.
When Clarke did as she was asked, the child honored the deal by sheathing the dagger in her boot.
"Are you Trikru?" The child asked.
In all honesty, Clarke had no idea how to respond. Her loyalty had always been to her people, but her identity had shifted so much in such a short time that she had no desire to label herself as part of any particular group.
Not since Lexa had died.
Especially since she survived Praimfaya alone.
Clarke shrugged. "That's a long story." She paused to swallow the lump in her throat and looked down at the floor. "I'm just Clarke."
"But you are a nightblood like me?" The child asked and waved her over to allow Clarke a spot on a log to rest on.
"Just like you." Clarke nodded as she sighed and sat down with a pat to the spot beside her.
Maddie was seven when they first met, and since that fateful day, they spent every minute together. Learning from one another and relying on each other to survive.
Clarke made it a point to teach the young nightblood everything she knew about the ways of the Trikru and Skaikru alike. Everything from the history of the Commanders to reading, english, and science were daily topics. The combat lessons remained in the curriculum because despite the blonde's stance on Blood Must Not Have Blood, self-defense was essential still.
It would always be relevant.
There was nothing they didn't share. No story went untold on either side. And a mutual respect flourished behind an unbreakable bond that would likely last a lifetime.
Two years into their friendship, which ultimately felt more and more like a mother daughter relationship, Maddie asked if she could decorate Clarke's rifle.
Clarke merely nodded, although she was surprised at the odd request.
While the blonde skinned and prepared the animal they had hunted together (because despite Praimfaya- four years did a lot for nature and its fauna), the child took to engraving letters she had since learned into the wood on the stock of the gun.
They worked quietly and comfortably on their respective tasks until Maddie spoke without lifting her gaze from her work.
"Tell me the story again." She stated in a pleading whisper.
Clarke halted her movements, the knife caught between the fur and the muscle of the boar she toiled over. Her eyes moved naturally towards the girl that still carved into the wooden surface with her dagger. "You've heard it so many times already." She smiled lovingly at the girl who was unaware of the expression.
"It's a good story. It deserves to be told."
The blonde nodded with unshed tears clouding her eyes. No matter how much time had passed, her heart and soul still ached when she thought about her.
Lexa's life would forever be intricately woven into every fiber of her being, and she was happy that the young nightblood felt that was important to embrace.
However painful it could still be to recall their story.
Because it still was. Because no one could fight Clarke when she said their story was a beautifully tragic story about learning to survive and learning to live amongst a time where love was not so simple.
Yet still had been.
So Clarke cleared her throat and continued to clean the carcass while she started like she always did. "She was the earth and I was they sky." She smiled as she retold the story from the beginning. How standing before Lexa in the middle of a war, surrounded by her guards, made her far more nervous than she allowed herself to appear. She described, for the millionth time how Lexa was a woman who commanded so much authority with a simple gesture of her head or lifting of her hand. How words had always been the Commander's second option when she gave orders. She smiled when she reminisced on the woman's eyes. So green. So gentle. So intense. Ever since their first locked gaze.
Clarke skipped nothing.
She never did.
Not how Lexa trusted her enough to silence her people's whispers of advice against her. Not when she talked about how Lexa won her trust and affection by simply listening to what she had to say. Not when she brought up how she was betrayed and her heart broke into a million pieces because she felt Lexa respected her more, thought more of her, felt more for her.
"But she did." Maddie interjected before she blew wooden dust out of the crevasse of the 'e' she scraped out.
Clarke nodded with a smile. "She did." And she continued to simultaneously slice and retell their tale. And when her tone changed, because it always did (still) when she talked about the rage and convoluted mess of emotions she felt while she was alone for three months trying to forget what she did to them and Lexa did to her, Clarke still didn't skip a beat.
Even when the name Wanheda stirred mixed feeling within her. Yes it was a time when her soul felt as black and as heavy as the smoke that engulfed the earth…twice, but in the end the woman knew it was that which helped mold her from a young naïve sky girl into a survivor. Lexa did that for her- she taught her how to survive. Like a true warrior.
But Clarke added her own life experiences and she taught herself how to be the warrior that led with her heart as much as with her mind. That was true living. And that is what she did for the warrior. She taught Lexa how to live. If only for a brief instant, Lexa lived.
And they loved.
Together.
She continued with their road back to forgiveness and renewed trust. How they questioned one another every step of the way, but never doubted each other. Not their devotion to their cause. Not their commitment to surviving. And deep down, though unvoiced, not their love for one another.
No words were required, though would have been nice, to express just how deeply both girls had burrowed into each other's hearts...souls.
It was something that still tasted bitter as Clarke detailed the physical end of their story. How Lexa- her fierce Commander had conveyed the entire essence of love with sad loving eyes and three words (a mere broken sentence that she withheld, but said enough), before she was unjustly ripped away from her.
From the earth.
And what an injustice it had been. Still was.
Clarke paused to look at her workmanship and cleaned her knife before making her way towards a seat by the fire.
She rubbed dirt into her bloodied hands and continued to work the combination with her fingers until thick rolls of the two could be swatted off her skin.
"I loved her too late. She was gone so soon." Clarke always took a break then. Just when she felt the tears resurface and her throat constrict.
"She would have stayed by your side through it all." Maddie continued.
Clarke smiled sadly and looked up to the darkening sky. "She would have." She nodded. "A part of me still wonders what it would have been like to have her beside me during the days that led up to Praimfaya. How she would have dealt with everything. What she would have said. The things she would have done. But a bigger part of me is grateful she was spared all that turmoil. Seeing her people go through that…our people…I know it would have affected her, though she would have hidden it from everyone. But not from me. Never from me. I would have seen through that indifferent stare and rigid stance she was so fond of." The woman looked back down to stare at the fire. "I miss her every day."
"She's always with you." Maddie smiled as she looked proudly at her work. The girl stood and walked to her guardian. "And this will always remind you." She handed Clarke the gun with it displaying proudly on her outstretched arms. "You carry her with you. All of them. It's how they'll live on forever. Death is not the end."
Tears welled up in the woman's eyes as she looked over the names, and carefully traced the valleys of each carving. "Maddie…" She teared up before she could go on and the young girl sat beside her to embrace her in a fierce hug.
The rifle lay securely on Clarke's lap between them. She cried silently, but she had never cried harder and with more sentiment than just then.
As the silent tears cascaded down her face, and the sobs caught inside her chest and wracked her body, she thought about everything she had been through. Everyone she had lost. Everything she had gained. The love she had shared. The love she had lost.
The girl she had found. Maddie was her saving grace this time.
Much like Lexa had been during such a chaotic time in her life.
Clarke was convinced Maddie was meant to find her to teach her that life was as forgiving as it was cruel.
"I love you, Clarke." Maddie whispered against her.
"I love, too." Clarke sighed through the sobs as she looked down at the gift. On it were the names of the people she had lost since they landed on earth.
Maddie had asked and listened to the stories so many times in the couple of years they had known each other. So much so that she memorized the names that were repeated the most, ones that held most weight over Clarke.
Finn.
Aden.
Gina.
Fox.
Luna.
Mount Weather.
Maya.
And on the strap closest to her heart, the biggest most legible name: Lexa.
Lexa.
You'll always be with me. She recited with eyes closed as she kissed the top of Maddie's head.
.
You guys have no idea how easy AND hard it was for me to put this story into words. Like most of you, if not all of you, I still cannot come to terms with Lexa's fate. It's been 1 season and 448 days since she was so foolishly killed off. And I could write an essay on how I felt and still feel, but I'm afraid that would be too boring. So this is how I deal with it. I watched this season hesitantly online and I hate how I felt. Always hoping Lexa would show up. Wondering what that scene and this scene could have been had she been there. But then I realized all of those emotions are my ammo. It's the fire I need to continue writing. To keep her alive. For me. For all of us. So please, whether you continue to watch or not, your choice, always remember that it is up to US now to keep Lexa alive and relevant. Because when we decide she no longer matters, then that's when she will truly fade away. And we must not let that happen. Embrace the loss by making her live forever. In spite of all who say get over it. In spite of all who say she's just a character. She mattered to us. Still does. Always will. Hope you guys enjoyed this quick piece. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Tassels coming later today.