This story takes place entirely in Polis, and the majority of times, the characters are speaking in Trigedasleng. There are some words in Trigedasleng, and the translations are at the end of the story, but whenever a character is speaking in italics, it means they are speaking in Trigedasleng and not Gonasleng. Also, the slightest of spoiler alerts if you haven't seen much of season three yet, though nothing really spoils the actual plot of the show. That's all I've got to say, other than I hope you enjoy!
"Leksa."
Lexa flinched, her bouncing leg immediately going still. She hadn't realized it had been moving, hadn't realized she had been allowing her nerves to show in this way, but didn't have to question that it was this movement that had given her away. Trying to hide the fact that she suddenly felt the need to swallow thickly, she looked up, meeting the hard gaze of the man who had just called her name.
"Sha, Heda?" she asked, folding her hands respectfully in her lap. She did her best to keep her facial expression schooled, trying not to give away the sudden worry she felt, but she was sure not only the Commander could see it, but the other Nightbloods around her could as well.
"What are the pillars of being the Commander?" he asked her, the sudden quiz an obvious way to tell her he had caught her drifting off and not paying attention to the lesson he was trying to teach them all.
She perked up a little at the question, the answer immediately coming to her mind. This one – unlike many other questions – was one she already knew the answer to, and so she squared her shoulders back, lifting her head a little higher as she began to reply, "Bilaik bakon -"
"Gonasleng," he cut her off, the order clear, and she felt her shoulders droop once again. Of all the Nightbloods, she knew that her Gonasleng, the language spoken by their enemy the Maunon, was the worst. Even though she practiced it for hours every day, she simply couldn't wrap her mind around the foreign words. They felt like rocks in her mouth, and simply wouldn't form for her the way they did for the others.
She licked her lips, brow turned down as she tried to concentrate. Speaking slowly, she tried again. "The... pillars... for the Commander is strength and..." She trailed off for a moment, her brow furrowing even further. The first word, strength, was an easy enough one to remember: the Commander spoke of it often, saying the word in both their language and the enemy's at least once a lesson. The second word, in their natural tongue noun, was harder to remember, being said much less frequently than the first. She bit her lip, trying to concentrate even harder, and then looked back to the Commander, her voice clear in her uncertainty as she said, "Thoughts?"
The Commander simply looked at her, and by the set of his face, she knew she had gotten it wrong. Hard eyes flickered over to one of the other Nightbloods, a boy sitting not far to Lexa's right, and said, "Koul, inform Leksa of the correct answer."
Kohl immediately answered, not looking away from the Commander as he recited easily, "The pillars to be the Commander are strength and wis-dom." He drew the final word out, a clear dig at the younger girl for getting it wrong, the same arrogance in his voice he always spoke with. Lexa saw a number of the other Nightbloods sitting around her smirk, clearly unsurprised that she had gotten it wrong while he had gotten it right, and she felt like shrinking into herself but forced herself to continue looking at the Commander. She wouldn't let any of them see the shame she felt.
Heda nodded, simply saying, "Good, Koul. Correct." He looked up from the group of eleven children all sitting around his feet and held up his hand as he called out, "Taitus." Titus, the Commander's adviser, stepped forward from the back of the room, his soft shoes skimming lightly along the hard floor, and Lexa fought with herself not to look back towards him. "Take the Nightbloods back to their rooms to get ready." Turning back towards them, he looked around the group, meeting each of their eyes. When he looked into Lexa's, she had to fight with herself not to look away. "Go. Change your clothes and get your staffs. I expect you all down in the arena in less than an hour. The Conclave begins soon."
"Sha Heda," the eleven children all echoed together, and as one they stood up, bowing their heads to the man who led their people. He nodded back, and then they all turned, following Titus as he led them out of the room.
At the mention of the Conclave, Lexa felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. It wasn't the real Conclave – the real one wouldn't take place until the Commander's death, and that was sure to be some years away – but it would feel like it. Worse, she knew, because the Commander would be watching, his physical body judging every move they made. While in reality she knew this was really just another form of training, another way for each Nightblood to show what they could do, it felt so much worse. She liked training, usually, enjoyed the swing of her sword or movement of her fists or knife, but when it was the Commander who watched her, who judged every move she made, she felt like she always turned back into the klutz she had been in her fifth summer when Anya had first taken her on as her Second. Now she had just passed her eleventh summer, was actually a fairly decent warrior, but whenever the Commander watched, she felt as though she had lost every ability she had learned. What was even worse, the Commander wouldn't be the only one watching today: because of the nature of the mock Conclave, he had invited warriors already in Polis and nearby villages alike to come and watch, and as her mentor, Lexa knew that Anya would be there.
She had to close her eyes at the thought, silently saying a prayer to the gods to at least let her do better than she had at the last Conclave the Commander had held. It had been six moon-cycles ago, just after Anya had brought her back to Polis to begin her Nightblood training, and it had not gone well. In a word, it had been a disaster. She had buckled under the Commander's gaze, seemed to have forgotten everything she had been taught, and had lost in only the second round, and it had only been luck that had gotten her through the first. Since then she had trained harder than she ever had before, working with the Commander and the other Nightbloods during their lessons, managing to find time to work with Anya when she was around and free, and even sneaking off at night and training on her own, but this would be the first opportunity to see whether she had made any improvement. She couldn't help but fear that she hadn't, and that fear gripped her, causing the sweat to break out along her palms.
Just as she reached down to wipe the damp hands against her pants, a foot suddenly shot out in front of her, and before she could do anything about it, she was falling, the hard floor quickly approaching. Her hands shot out to soften the fall, but the movement was just a second too late, and she felt first her hands scrape against the floor before the side of her head hit, a cut immediately opening above her eyebrow. The pain pounded against her head, blood quickly seeping down and around her eye, and she hissed as she pulled herself up to her knees, feeling little pieces of dirt stick into the scrapes along her palms.
"Watch where you are going, Unmarked," Kohl told her, the sneer clear on his face when she looked up and saw that it was his foot that had tripped her. "Stay out of my way, and maybe you won't fall so often."
About to retort, a glare growing across her face as she looked up at him, she was cut off when Titus hurried over to her, exclaiming, "Leksa!" Kneeling down beside her and taking a look at first her hands and then the cut that continued to bleed above her eye, he looked from her to Kohl, his own glare forming as he asked them both, "What happened?"
Lexa was unsurprised Titus hadn't seen any of what had taken place: Kohl was very good at finding the moment when the adults around were not paying attention, and it was then that he always struck. She didn't know why for sure, but the young Azgeda Nightblood had gone after her the moment she had been brought to Polis for her training. He was in his fourteenth summer, not the oldest of them but certainly the biggest, and she knew it was him that so many people believed would be the Commander's next vessel. He basked in this knowledge, let it inflate his ego and arrogance both, but unfortunately for Lexa, it was a well-earned reputation: he was, by far, the best fighter among them, the model student, always knowing the answers to any of the questions Heda asked him. He embodied the two pillars, and because of this he felt he was above the rest of them. Many of the other Nightbloods flocked around him, happy to add even more to his arrogance, but Lexa never had, and it was possibly this reason why she had become his number one target for his cruel pranks. Add to that that she was easily the smallest of them all, and really she knew she stood no chance against him. Not that that knowledge stopped her from trying, but there had been more than one nasty bruise or black eye that had been a gift from him to her, and very few that she had been able to return.
At the moment though, Kohl simply narrowed his eyes, daring her to tell Titus what had happened. The man was looking at her, waiting for an answer to his question, and she could see in his eyes that he already knew. This was her battle, however, had always been her battle, and she refused to give Kohl the satisfaction of backing down.
So all she said as she continued to meet the boy's eyes was, "I tripped. That is all." She braced her hands against her legs, fighting against the wince she felt as the pressure caused her scrapes to sting even more, and stood up, finally turning to Titus. She allowed nothing to show as she added, "I am fine, Taitus."
He gave her a look that told her he knew she was lying, but she simply met it, saying nothing to change her story. Finally he only sighed, shooting a glare to Kohl as he stood up before he turned back to her, telling her, "Come. We must clean your wounds." His hand dropped to her shoulder, a kind gesture that she wanted to sink into, but instead she shrugged it off. Meeting his look she told him seriously, "They are just scratches, Taitus: I can clean them myself." He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but then swallowed the words as he shook his head.
"Very well," he simply said, and then moved back to the front of the small group, once again leading the way down the hall.
There were no more incidents as they walked, and soon they reached the floor where all the Nightbloods slept, each with their own room. They began to break away, each to get ready on their own, and when Lexa saw her own door she moved towards it. One hand on the doorknob and already pulling it open, she stiffened when she heard Kohl's voice whisper just behind her, "See you in the arena, Bare-back. If you make it that far."
She didn't dignify the words with a response, instead just stepping into her room and closing the door behind her, but the moment it fell shut she felt herself slump against it. Without really meaning to, she felt one of her arms fold across her, fingers running gently over the back of her shoulder. Even through her shirt she could feel the smoothness of her skin, and it was this smoothness that was a cause for all the names. Bare-back. Unmarked. By now it was known among all of the Nightbloods that she wore no kill-marks along her skin, and they all loved pointing that out every chance they got.
They believed the lack of marks meant that she had never killed before, and it was this belief that made her their target. After all, at eleven, only the weakest, most pathetic warriors had never ended someone's fight before, and this belief made them all turn away from her, ashamed that she somehow managed to share the same black blood that they did. They believed her unworthy of the blood that flowed through her veins, and used every chance they could to make sure she knew that.
Lexa sighed as she pushed herself away from her door, walking further into the room, her thoughts all a jumble. What they didn't know was that she had killed before, and now that she was thinking of it, the seven faces of those whose lives she had taken flashed through her mind. The first one had been when she was only in her sixth summer, and even now she could still hear the raggedness to the man's breath as his chest rose for the last time. She remembered them all, the first just as easily as the most recent, and she knew that she would never forget any of them. After that first, she remembered Anya walking towards her with the burning stick, but she had backed away from it. She had seen the way most people treated their marks: just as Kohl did, they were bragging rights, a simple way to say to someone, "I have killed more than you therefore I am better." There were still some who wore them the way they were meant to be worn, as a memento to the dead, a promise to carry those deaths with them and honor them always. Anya was one of them, and she so greatly respected her mentor that it had been difficult for her to refuse the marks that the woman had offered to give her. She didn't need them though, didn't need them forever imprinted along her body because they were forever ingrained within her memory. When she had explained this to Anya, the woman had studied her for a long moment, and then simply nodded, allowing the stick to drop.
Sighing again and trying to put all thoughts of everything but the Conclave out of her mind, Lexa quickly changed, stripping out of her loose clothing and replacing it with a tight long-sleeve shirt and tight pants, both pieces of clothing easy to move in. Her hair was already pulled back in its few braids, and she saw no reason to make changes to it, so she then sat down at her small desk, grabbing the small piece of cloth on its corner and beginning to dab at the scrapes along her hands. Again she winced as the rough cloth pressed against the cuts, the dark blood quickly soaking into the fabric. As if she really needed something else to worry about, she knew now she would have to be careful of her grip along her staff, the wounds to her hands something that could easily impact her fighting.
Thinking about what was about to take place, Lexa felt her heart once again beat ferociously against her ribcage, and couldn't help a small growl from escaping her lips as she threw the rag back to her desk, dropping her head into her hands. Clenching her eyes shut, she tried desperately to control her breathing and calm herself down. She knew she was a good fighter, knew that she could keep up with just about any of the other Nightbloods, even if they didn't know it, but every time she tried to fight beneath the Commander's hard gaze, she would slip up and somehow make a fool of herself.
As she finally lifted her head again, silently berating herself for allowing herself to wallow in self-pity, Lexa caught sight of her reflection in the mirror that stood against the back of her desk. She usually only used the mirror when braiding her hair, but now she studied her face, eyes widening slightly. The cut above her eye had stopped bleeding, but the black of her blood had trailed down, leaving a streak from the cut to her cheek, staining her skin the same black. Lifting her fingers to gently press against the streak, she was suddenly reminded of the black war paint Anya would spread across her eyes whenever they would prepare to ride into battle, how just the added paint would make her mentor stand stronger, shoulders pulled back even further than usual. She seemed to draw strength from the markings, and strength is what Lexa needed right then.
Unbuckling her knife from her belt, the young Nightblood lifted her shirt and pressed the sharp blade to her side, not even flinching when the blade parted her skin and droplets of her blood began to fall from the fresh wound. She gathered the wet black along her fingertips and then stared at herself in the mirror as she spread the blood around her eyes and over her temples until it mixed in with her hairline. Only the bridge of her nose she left clean, and when she finished she stared back at two eyes completely surrounded by darkness, the corners of her lips quirking up slightly at the sight. She was a Nightblood, could potentially someday be the next Commander – no matter how unlikely that was – and now she bore the proof of that proudly on her face for all to see. The thought and sight of it made her sit up straighter, pride naturally squaring her shoulders.
Quickly she stood up, wiping the little bit of blood on her knife against her pants before she returned the weapon to her belt. She wouldn't need it: in this Conclave, they were only allowed to use their staffs and bodies to fight their opponents, but it had been a gift from Anya when she first became the woman's Second, and now going anywhere without it made her feel naked and vulnerable. She grabbed the cloth she had tossed on the table, pressing it against her side to stop the small trickle of blood that still fell from the self-imposed wound, and as soon as it had she tossed it back to the desk, allowed her shirt to fall back down. She grabbed her staff from the other side of the room, barely feeling the pull of the scrapes on her palms as she tightened her fingers around it, and then with one final look in her mirror, she left her room, her head held high.
The journey down to the arena took long minutes, but finally she stood in front of the platform where the Commander and many of his generals sat, her face set and showing nothing but determination as they all looked down on her and the other Nightbloods standing in a line in front of them. She had heard the murmurings from the people she passed, saw the way that the generals' eyes all seemed to naturally flicker to her with her black mask, but she didn't let any of that knowledge show on her face, even when she saw Anya give her the smallest of nods. Her mentor sat only a few seats away from the Commander, and it was her that Lexa planned to fight for. She would prove to everyone watching that she was worthy of the time Anya had spent training her, just as she was worthy of the blood that flowed through her veins.
The Commander welcomed everyone who had gathered to watch the Conclave, and then explained the rules, and even though she already knew them, Lexa paid extra attention. It was all very straight forward, really: they would be paired off in single combat, and when you lost you were out. The winners of each individual battle would go on until there were only two competitors left, and then they would fight, and the winner of that battle would be the winner of the Conclave. It didn't mean anything, not really, but it gave each Nightblood a chance to show what they could do, and it showed the crowd who their next possible Commander might be.
As there were an odd number of them, they all knew that the first battle would be fought between three of them, each expected to fight against two opponents at once. The Commander had already decided the order of the fights, and Lexa found she wasn't surprised when he called her name first. When he named her two opponents, she merely lifted her chin higher as the rest of the Nightbloods left the field to await their own turns. She took a few steps back until she was in the center of the arena, both of her opponents in her line of view, and she waited.
Her opponents were the only two Nightbloods younger than her: twins from the Sankru, both having been brought to Polis only four moon-cycles ago. They hadn't been there for the previous mock Conclave, but they had been training with the group of Nightbloods long enough for Lexa to get a sense of their fighting styles. Honestly, they weren't particularly great fighters, and if she were only paired up against one of them, she wouldn't feel the need to worry at all. Against them both, however, she knew she was going to have to be careful. As siblings, they knew how each other fought, and could predict the others movement in ways Lexa knew she wouldn't be able to. She had no doubt that they would try to work together to defeat her first, before they had to move on to fighting each other.
She was right: the moment the Commander gave the order to begin, they both raced towards her, staffs out. She watched them come, planting her feet firmly against the hard dirt of the ground, and waited, her heart beating hard against her chest. It wasn't fear she felt: it was excitement, the kind of excitement she only got on the battlefield. She'd never been able to feel it before under the Commander's hard watch, but with her blood mask covering her face and the feeling of Anya's eyes on her, she felt it now and she allowed the high to take over.
If the twins had been moving at exactly the same speed from exactly the same distance away, she would have had a problem. As it was however, Kale reached her just a couple of steps before his sister, so when he swung his staff at her, she was able to bring her own up to block it. Isha came in just a moment after her brother, looking smug at the thought that Lexa's staff was already being used and therefore unable to save her, but at the last moment Lexa shifted in her stance, using the strength they didn't know she had to push against Kale's staff as she side-stepped around him. The push made him falter, and he fell in the way of his sister's swing, earning a solid smack to his side even as Isha tried to draw the attack back. In their confusion, Lexa danced around, quickly moving from the spot they thought her to be in, and when they both turned to continue their attack, she was already behind them. Her own staff swung out, first hitting against Isha's side and then jerking back to hit against the same spot Kale had already been hit, and she heard them both curse at her as they drew in sharp breaths.
She was too fast for them, and she used that knowledge to her advantage. In trying to work together to defeat her, they simply got tangled up in each others staffs, and whenever they turned to try to face her, she would have already moved from where they had last seen her, ready to strike blows to any sides that either of them left unprotected. The battle didn't take long, probably only a few minutes, before first Kale and then Isha fell to the ground, Lexa's staff immediately moving to press against his throat while her foot came down to rest against her neck. A moment later she heard the Commander order the halt in the battle, and she immediately drew away, turning and bowing to her leader. As she tilted her head forward, she used the motion to hide her grin: she had won, and hadn't let her opponents get a single strike in against her. Giddy energy buzzed through her veins, and when she finally looked up, she looked right past the Commander to Anya, the small smile pulling at the woman's lips only making Lexa's heart soar even higher.
The battles continued as the afternoon wore on, and Lexa watched each from her spot in the sidelines, studying her fellow Nightbloods until it was again her time to fight. Each battle she fought better than the previous, and with each victory she felt the crowd around her shift, their murmurings growing louder as she felt their eyes on her. She didn't allow it to show, but she felt her pride in herself swelling in her chest, even managing to meet the Commander's eyes now after each fight. Her energy thrummed under her skin, and while she knew she should only be getting more tired as the Conclave wore on, instead she felt as though she could keep fighting forever and never wear out.
Finally nine out of the eleven Nightbloods had been disqualified, and Lexa stepped forward into the arena for the final time, her shoulders squaring and head held high as she looked across from her, meeting the harsh smirk of her opponent. She was unsurprised to be facing Kohl: everyone had known that he would make it to this round, herself included, and she felt her grip along her staff tighten. This. This was her chance to finally show him – and everyone who believed she was undeserving of the blood that flowed through her veins – that she was a Nightblood, and that she shouldn't be taken lightly.
For a long moment, the two stood in the arena, many feet between them, simply staring each other down while everyone around them watched, no one making a single noise. Lexa could practically feel the crowd holding its breath, and the energy coming from them only fueled her more.
"Begin," the Commander finally announced, and the fight had begun.
For the briefest moment, neither she nor Kohl moved, still sizing the other up, and then he ran forward, the smirk still on his lips. She watched him come, shifting her weight, and once again waited for the attack that she could see coming. He wasn't like the twins though: he had experience, had fought in a number of mock Conclaves as well as real battles before, so when he attacked he knew how to keep it controlled. He thrust his staff out, making it look like he was going to attack from the left and then switched at the last second, bringing his staff down on her right when he thought it unguarded. Lexa had been watching his fights for a long time now though, had studied the way he moved, and so was able to shift her stance at just the last moment, bringing her staff up in order to block his blow.
The force behind his attack made her arms shake, and she knew that his strength was going to be her biggest problem. He was larger than her by at least a head, and his arms already had the defined muscles of a hardened warrior. If she allowed him to get his hands or staff on her, there was no guarantee she would be able to hold up under the attack.
He used his size to his advantage, but so did she. Lexa felt him pressing against her staff, felt him trying to bare all of his weight down against her, and for a moment she strained against it, her muscles screaming at her, but when his smirk grew, thinking he already had her defeated, she surprised him by returning it with a grin of her own.
Without warning, she leaned back and then jumped to the side, moving away from him. The motion was too fast, too unexpected, and Kohl couldn't bring himself back up before he was falling forward. Her leg was suddenly in front of his, and then he felt her shove him from where she stood beside him, and he was toppling forward, falling into the dirt before he could catch himself. He coughed as a cloud of dirt and dust rose around him, but quickly rolled to the side, jumping back to his feet before she could continue the attack. She hadn't bothered, instead putting more distance between them while he was on the ground, and when he stood up he shot a glare at her that she returned with a smirk.
"That is for earlier," she informed him, shifting on her feet as she felt the energy pulsing through her. His glare only spurned her on.
"You will pay for that, Bare-back," he growled, his voice loud enough to carry over the crowd, and she knew what he was doing. He wanted everyone to know about her unmarked skin, wanted to break her with his words as the crowd shifted around them, their surprise evident at his words. It was a dirty trick meant to get into her head, but she pushed it aside, expecting as much from him.
"No, it is time for you to pay," she replied, her grip tightening along her staff, "For everything I have had to put up with from you."
He smirked again and then raced forward, clearly letting the taunts fall away, hoping to be able to pound the little Trikru Nightblood into the submission she never showed him.
For long minutes, the two fought, each having to constantly switch from attack to defense. Lexa used her size to dodge most of his attacks, only receiving a couple of hits to her sides and thighs, and while each hit made her wince, she didn't allow them to slow her down. Instead she returned each hurt, giving just as much as she was getting, and soon she saw him watching her more warily, clearly aware that something about this fight was different. She attacked and she dodged and she defended, always looking for an opportunity to bring the fight to an end.
And then suddenly she saw it. As she danced to the left, dodging an attack, she saw that his grip on his staff had loosened, and the momentary knowledge was all she needed. Getting closer than usual, she brought her own staff up, hooking it behind his, and then yanked, forcefully pulling the staff from his grip, causing it to fly behind her. She stepped in front of the staff now on the ground with her own raised ready in front of her, and she felt herself grin, knowing that him being unarmed meant it wouldn't be long now.
Her grin fell away when she saw him grab at the knife in his belt, quickly drawing it and holding it out in front of him. She heard the crowd react, a number of people booing while others growled or whispered, but she didn't allow her attention to leave her opponent, his eyes glaring into her own. She half expected the Commander to call a stop to the fight: knives, and any weapons other than the staffs, were clearly forbidden in this arena, and she as well as everyone else there knew that. When the Commander remained quiet, honestly not surprising her, Lexa held her head higher, and shifted in her stance, sinking into it even more. If Kohl wanted to keep going then fine, she would keep going, and this time she wouldn't hold back.
Now it was Lexa who sprang forward, her staff whipping out in front of her, and she noticed Kohl's eyes widen just slightly at the speed with which she moved. She twisted and turned, lashing out with her staff, and he had to use his arms to try to fend off the attacks, his grip on the knife not loosening. Her staff was too long, his knife too short, for him to be able to get his own attacks in, and step by step she pushed him back, never letting up on her swings. Her fury took over, and she allowed that energy to fuel her. He had spent every day since she had gotten to Polis making her life hell, picking on her, calling her names and finding any excuse he could to deliver her small bruises. She could ignore all of that, could let it wash over her and not react, but what he had just done she could not forgive: he broke the rules, the laws of the mock Conclave, and that she could not abide. He was a Nightblood, the one who everyone believed would be the next Commander, so he – like her – had the least freedom to break the laws already set forth. That he didn't believe that, that he could possibly ignore that absolute fact, pushed her over the edge.
She attacked and he tried to defend, but she didn't let up, wouldn't let up, and with every step back she forced him to take, he felt himself losing his balance. She moved too quickly, spinning and turning and striking, and it was all he could do to keep his arms up to block the more sensitive parts of his body from the blows. He tried to take another step back and then he was falling, his back and head hitting the hard ground, and before he could push himself back up she was on him, her staff pressing harshly against his neck. He looked up into hard green eyes that shone bright from a dark mask, and he nearly felt himself shudder under the cold look.
Lexa kept her staff against his neck for a long moment, not looking away as she glared down at him. She waited, knowing that it was the Commander who had to end the fight, so she held herself still, waiting to hear his voice booming out and bringing the battle to an end.
It didn't happen. She stood there for long moments, the seconds ticking by, and nobody made a sound. Her heart began beating quickly in her chest, not understanding why the Commander wasn't calling the end of the fight. Kohl was down, clearly defeated, and so it was over. And yet the Commander had not yet declared it, so really, it wasn't. She knew she was expected to fight until she was told not to, but she had clearly won. What did he expect her to do? Continue attacking while her opponent was down?
Finally looking up, her eyes immediately moved over to the Commander's, and meeting them, she realized that that was exactly what he expected her to do. Her grip on her staff tightened, eyes momentarily flicking back to Kohl, and she pressed down just a little harder against his neck, hearing his breath begin to strain against the pressure. Her mouth went dry, her palms began to sweat, and the energy that had been flowing through her up until this point all seemed to drain out of her.
Suddenly Lexa stepped back, removing her staff from Kohl's neck, and she heard him take in a deep breath. Turning, she faced the stand where all of the generals sat. Again her eyes moved directly to the Commander, and then she was bowing to him, her head falling down in respect. She was done fighting.
Unfortunately for her, Kohl wasn't. The moment she let her defenses down, he snarled, and then he kicked out harshly, his feet coming into contact with the side of her leg. Her eyes widened as she went down, her focus having been on the generals and Commander, and then Kohl was on top of her, pressing her into the ground. She felt a sting along her shoulder as his knife came down, opening her skin in a long, shallow slash. The next moment she heard the knife fall to the ground beside her head, and before she could react his hands were around her throat, their grip tightening with every passing second. She scrambled against him, her fingers dragging down his arms, nails sinking into this skin, but no amount of thrashing could get him to loosen his grip. Her mouth opened and closed, desperately trying to pull air into lungs that screamed at the lack of oxygen, but nothing she could do could loosen the iron grip around her neck. Her vision began to get dark, bright lights erupting and sparkling around Kohl's face, and she could feel every part of her getting heavy.
"Em pleni."
The words were spoken just as the darkness was about to completely take over her vision, and then suddenly the fingers around her throat were gone, and she was sucking air into desperate lungs, coughs wracking her frame as she turned away from the boy who had just pushed himself off of her. Her entire body shook, the coughs tearing through her and only adding to the pain that had already blossomed in her throat. She only just managed to control her coughs enough to hear the Commander call out to all of them, "The Conclave is over. Koul is once again the victor."
As many members of the crowd cheered and even more began to murmur, Lexa had to fight herself in order to keep her tears back. They pooled in the back of her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she didn't let them. Instead she clenched her eyes shut, her fist lashing out and striking the packed dirt beneath her.
She heard the footsteps approaching her, and when she opened her eyes she didn't have to look up to know whose boots had stopped just in front of her. A hand reached down and Lexa took it, feeling the shame wash over her as fingers tightened around hers and hauled her to her feet. She only just managed to look up, finally meeting Anya's eyes, and hoped that the shame she felt wasn't obvious in her own.
Anya studied the girl for a long moment, eyes running over her face and down to her neck, seeing the bruises that had already formed along her skin and the steady flow of blood that ran from the wound on her shoulder. She showed none of her thoughts to her Second, but when Lexa looked at her stubbornly, she met the look.
"You fought well," she finally said, her tone showing no hint of the pride she felt for the girl standing before her.
"I lost," Lexa mumbled, only just barely able to keep herself from looking away from her mentor's sharp gaze.
Anya nodded once, telling her, "You did. That does not change the fact that you fought well."
Lexa looked away, her jaw clenched tightly, unable to truly believe her mentor's words. She heard another set of footsteps approach, and turned to find Titus moving towards them. His eyes scanned over her, and she could see the worry in his eyes as he took in the extent of her injuries, and again a wave of shame crashed over her.
"Leksa," he simply said, eyes still looking her over as he stopped next to her, "We must look to your injuries."
"I am fine, Taitus," she argued, just barely able to keep her voice even, but then she felt a solid smack to the back of her head and she winced, less from the force of the blow than from the fact that she had forgotten momentarily that Anya stood beside her as well.
"Do not argue, yongon," the woman growled at her, hard eyes meeting her as she turned to look at her mentor. "You will have your wounds seen to and you will not fight. Once done, we will go out and celebrate, but if you continue to argue then you and I will go a round, and I will give injuries that you will not be able to argue about."
Lexa just managed to hold back her sigh, knowing that it would only earn her another smack to the head, before she nodded and gave in. "Sha, Onya," she said, the woman nodding to her once before turning and walking away. Lexa watched her go and then did let out the sigh she'd been holding in, her shoulders slumping just slightly. She turned back to Titus, looking up to meet his eyes before muttering, "Let's go, Taitus."
The two walked back in silence, and as they walked Lexa could feel Titus's gaze flickering over to her every now and then. She didn't look up to meet it, didn't look anywhere but in front of her, doing her best to keep the shame she still felt from showing. She closed her eyes as she walked, having to clench her jaw once again as she replayed the fight in her head, trying to wrap her mind around all that had happened. She had nearly won, had had the victory in her hands, and then she had given it up. She'd been weak, stopping before the Commander told them to, and she had paid for that weakness, and would pay for it for a long time to come, she was sure.
Finally they reached her room and Titus opened her door, ushering her inside. He made her sit down at her desk, but even as he peeled her ruined shirt away from her bloody shoulder, she still didn't talk, simply staring ahead and trying not to let her emotions wash over her. Picking up the cloth that still laid on the desk, Titus brought it to her shoulder, pressing it lightly against the wound, and still the girl made no noise, clearly lost in her own head.
"Onya was right: you fought well today, Leksa, better than I have ever seen you fight before," he murmured, finally breaking the silence, and he gave her a small smile when her eyes moved to his. She didn't return the smile though, only clenching her jaw tighter before she replied, "I lost though. I had the victory: I had it. And then I..." She trailed off, her eyes closing as she clenched her fists in her lap. "I was weak. I couldn't... I couldn't keep going when Koul was down. I was weak, and Koul used that weakness against me. He's right: I'm not worthy of my Nightblood."
"He is wrong, just as you are right now," Titus informed her quietly, and her eyes flew open, meeting his. He saw her scan his face, trying to understand, and he smiled at her. One hand reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, even as the other continued to press the cloth against her wound. "You are worthy of your Nightblood, Leksa, and never have I seen you more worthy than when you stepped away from Koul, refusing to fight someone who was already down. In that moment, you showed your greatness, and you showed that you are just as likely as any of them to be the next Commander. More so, even."
Lexa frowned, his words not making sense to her, and she told him so.
"That does not make sense, Taitus," she said, "I showed weakness, not strength. It was foolish for me to take my focus away from my opponent, even when he was down, not wise. I showed neither of the pillars the Commander is always talking about."
"You showed something just as important as strength or wisdom, something that perhaps is even more important for a leader to possess," he told her, eyes easily meeting hers. "You showed compassion, and compassion is a trait that few warriors truly possess, but a trait that a good leader must show. When you stepped away, refusing to fight against an opponent who could not do so, you showed the kind of compassion that I have not seen in many years. Koul does not have it: that has been abundantly clear to me for some time now. Few of the other Nightbloods have shown it either: only you, my little Leksa, have shown what it really takes to be the kind of leader that our people need, the kind of leader who your people would fight and die for. The kind of leader the people would love."
He pulled back, a small smile on his face as he looked down at the young Nightblood, her confusion as clear as ever in her eyes. Without really thinking about it, he bent forward, gently pressing his lips to her forehead. Standing back up, he met her shocked expression and only continued to smile before he stepped away, giving her the space he could see she needed as her mind tried to process all he had told her. As he reached the door, one hand reaching out and grasping the doorknob, he turned back to her, throwing another small smile at her before he said, "You are strong, Leksa: far stronger than you know. Do not allow your strength to overpower your compassion though: one without the other can only lead to trouble. Allow your compassion to grow alongside your strength, and I know you will become a Commander who will do great things, greater than any we have seen before." With that he slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind him, and Lexa was once again alone.
Titus's words swirled around her, making her head buzz, and she didn't really know what to do with all that he had just told her. It was so different from any of the lessons the Commander had taught them, and yet Titus had been beside three Commanders already: he must know what he was talking about. What he had said both made no sense and too much sense, and Lexa didn't know how to take it all in.
Turning in her seat, she felt her gaze drawn back to the mirror at the back of her desk, and she met her own eyes, staring back at her from beneath her dark mask. Her mask had smudged during her fights, and now it was with surprise that she saw three streaks running partway down her left cheek, the one closest to her nose the smallest and then the following two each longer than the last. With fingers that shook, she reached up to her shoulder, finding her new wound still slick with fresh blood, and she gathered some along her fingertips. Without looking away from her reflection, she brought the fingers up to her right cheek.
"Strength," she whispered, her fingers drawing a short line down to mirror the one on the opposite side of her face. "Wisdom," she murmured, and her fingers moved to draw the second, longer streak. "Compassion," she finished loudly, her voice ringing out in the empty room as her black blood formed the final line. "These are my pillars. These are the pillars that will make me a good Commander. I am Leksa kom Trikru, and I will be the next Commander."
/
Five Years Later
With her eyes closed, Lexa tried to focus on the gentle pull of her hair as nimble fingers weaved it into its many braids, rather than the beat of her heart as it fought to escape her chest. Her hands remained folded in her lap, her breathing as easy as she could keep it, and she knew that to most, she looked completely at ease.
The one braiding her hair was not most people, however.
"You are nervous," Costia stated, not bothering to ask when she already knew the answer. Lexa opened her eyes, looking into the mirror in front of her, and saw soft brown eyes already looking into her own. She also noticed the small smile that pulled on the other girl's lips, and couldn't help but return the look as her own lips pulled up slightly.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked, watching Costia watch her even as those deft fingers continued to pull gently at her hair. The girl's smile only grew, and as always Lexa found it hard to look away from her, even as the girl bent down, lips moving closer to her ear.
"Only to those who know you well," she promised, before placing a quick kiss along the column of her love's neck. She watched as Lexa's eyes once again fell shut and felt it when she pressed into her, her head falling back just enough that the taut braid she still held loosened. "Nou," she scolded lightly, standing back up and pulling slightly against the braid, "You cannot move. I have not finished yet." She only grinned when she saw the other girl pout, their eyes once again meeting in the mirror as Lexa informed her, "You are teasing me, Kostia. That is unkind."
"You cannot always get everything you want, even if you are now Commander," Costia informed her. "It is my job to make sure you remember that."
At the reminder of her title, Lexa felt her pout slip away, the playfulness of the moment slipping away with it. Without meaning to, her eyes flickered away from Costia's, turning to stare into the piercing green of her own eyes rather than the soft brown of her love's. Fear gripped at her, pooling throughout her and making her limbs heavy, and suddenly it was once again hard to keep her breathing even.
Costia noticed the change immediately, quickly tying off the braid in her hand and letting it fall against Lexa's back before she pulled at the chair the other girl sat in, drawing it back away from the table so that she could move around it. Plopping herself in her love's lap, one hand immediately moved to Lexa's chin, forcing green eyes to turn to her. She watched as those eyes forced themselves to focus on her, the fear not leaving them.
"Talk to me," Costia murmured, scanning the face that was so close to her own. She knew Lexa, knew her probably better than anyone else, and so already knew what it was that pulled at the other girl, but she knew Lexa needed to finally say it.
"I am afraid," she finally admitted, her voice so quiet that even on her lap, Costia had a hard time hearing her words. "What if I fail? What if I am not the Commander that everyone needs?"
"Then you will find a way to become the one everyone needs," Costia replied, switching over to Gonasleng just as easily as Lexa had. "But," she added, her fingers tightening just a bit against her chin to keep the other girl from looking away, "You have nothing to be afraid of. You are the Commander, Lexa, and we will all proudly follow you."
Lexa swallowed, closing her eyes again as she wrapped her arms around Costia's waist. She let her head fall forward, forehead falling to the girl's shoulder as she asked quietly, "How do you know? How are you so sure?"
Fingers again pulling at her chin, she followed the motion and allowed the other girl to tilt her face back up, opening her eyes to see the small smile still on Costia's face.
"I know you," she simply said, leaning down so that she was even closer to Lexa's face. "I know all that you have already accomplished, and I know there is much more you will accomplish before you are done. I know your greatness, Lexa." When she just bit her lip, clearly not entirely believing her words, Costia closed the space between them, placing a soft kiss against one of her cheeks. "Ai gona," she whispered against the other girl's skin, and she felt the sharp breath the other girl took. "Ai Heda," she continued, moving over to the girl's other cheek and planting a gentle kiss there. "Ai Leksa." Her lips brushed against the tip of her nose, and she felt her lips curl up as she felt the girl move beneath her. She looked forward, meeting green eyes that scanned her own, and then she finally said, "Ai hodness," before allowing her lips to move down, finally meeting Lexa's.
Lexa allowed herself to fall into the kiss, allowed Costia to pull her way from her reality and the fear that she still felt deep inside her bones. Even with that fear still there, she felt her heart slow down, felt herself relax just a little more than she had before that moment. Costia's words echoed in her ears, and she knew, just as she had known for months now, that as long as she had this girl standing beside her, she could do anything. Pulling back from the kiss, her eyes once again met the other girl's, and she murmured, "Yu hodness." Pressing forward and stealing another kiss from those soft lips, she whispered against them, "Ai hodness."
She felt Costia smile against her, and pulled back so that she could see it. It was that smile that she had first fallen in love with, that smile that had drawn her to this girl now sitting on her lap, and it was that smile that tried to remind her every day to allow herself to smile back. Lexa didn't smile often, too many things on her mind to worry about, especially in the past month, but Costia brought it out in her, made her lips curl up even when Lexa didn't think they could. She loved this woman, loved her more than she had known was possible, and planned to spend the rest of her life with her. Pressing forward once again, she silently promised her just that with another kiss to those sweet lips.
Costia returned the kiss, her lips moving along with her love's, until she finally pulled back. She let out a small sigh as she moved to stand up, Lexa's arms tightening around her waist stopping her. Looking down at the other girl, she simply raised an eyebrow. "You need to keep getting ready, Lexa. Me sitting on your lap is not helping. I should go, so that you can focus." She saw the brunette open her mouth to argue, but then close it again, finally just letting out a sigh and nodding before she released her hold. Standing up, Costia pressed a final kiss to her love's forehead, murmuring to her, "You will be great, my love."
With that, Costia excused herself from the room, pulling the door shut behind her, and Lexa sighed as she was left alone with just her thoughts and reflection.
As soon as her love left, Lexa felt the silence in the room settle, felt the shift inside her take place. She looked into the mirror before her, and watched as she straightened her back, squaring her shoulders. She could still clearly see the fear that she felt settling into her bones, but she squashed it, forcing it away. She would not show her people that fear, would show them nothing but the same cool confidence she had shown when she had won the Conclave last month after the previous Commander's death. The grip of her jaw loosened, her teeth no longer clenching tightly together, and she simply held her head up higher.
Without needing to think about it, she deftly removed her knife from her belt, the same knife Anya had given her those many years ago when she first became the woman's Second, and used its sharp edge to open the skin at her side, a steady flow of her black blood cascading down her side the moment the skin opened. On the desk before her she allowed her eyes to fall upon the jar of black war paint Titus had given her just after her victory in the Conclave, but she ignored it. On other occasions she would use it for her mask, but this was not just a regular occasion. Tonight she would look out at her people from behind a mask of her own blood, reminding them all why it was that they looked to her now.
Her fingers moved to the wound, easily collecting the blood and she began spreading it out around her eyes, watching her reflection as the blackness grew across her face. Once the mask itself was finished, she gather more blood along one finger, and began drawing her three signature streaks down her cheeks.
"Strength," she said, her voice even as she pulled the first line down each of her cheeks. "Wisdom," she added as the second lines grew. Her fingers remained steady, her voice strong as she finished, drawing the third and final streaks down her face. "Compassion."
For just a moment, she sat there, allowing herself to stare back into her own eyes, taking in the look of her face with her war mask on. She was not going into battle, not yet, but she would show her general, her people, the face of their leader, their new Commander, for their first gathering since her body had become the Commander's new vessel. She sat a little straighter as she stared at herself, the mask enough to banish away the last traces of her fear.
Swiftly she stood, pressing a cloth to her side to stop the bleeding, and then she moved to the side of the room, gaze moving straight to the clothing and armor that already laid out across her bed, waiting for her. She got dressed quickly, the black of her clothes only making the black of the blood across her face stand out more, and then she was slipping into her armor, armor she had never before worn until this moment, armor that told everyone exactly who she was. She buckled the shoulder piece last, feeling its heavy weight pull against her, but she simply shifted in her stance, not letting it throw her off balance. Her red sash trailed out behind her, and she swallowed, forcing herself to hold her head higher as she once again turned to look at herself in her mirror. Who she saw staring back at her was the Commander of the Twelve clans, not Lexa, the Nightblood girl she had been, and it just made her stand up straighter.
Before she could lose her nerve, she moved to her door, opening it, and stepped outside into the hallway. Kohl stood at his post outside her door, his back straightening when he heard her approach, and she nodded at him, getting an immediate nod back. She began making her way down the hall and he followed her at a respectful distance, only their footsteps breaking through the silence as they moved. Finally they reached the end of the hallway where her personal guard, a man named Gustus, stood waiting for her. He bowed his head to her, murmuring, "Heda," and she simply nodded to him, and then Kohl was returning to his post and it was Gustus now following her as she made her way through her tower. As they moved, she could feel his eyes scanning around them, on the lookout for any signs of trouble, and she simply held her head higher, refusing to look anywhere but in front of her. She expected no attack, not here in Polis Tower at least, but she understood his need to be ever-cautious. After all, in the month that Gustus had been her guard, he had already saved her life three times. He was nothing but loyal, and while she might have to worry about some of her other people, there was no doubt in her mind that he would give his own life for hers.
They finally reached the room where Lexa knew many of her generals and people waited for her, and the moment the guards standing outside the door saw her, they all straightened, all bowing their heads as she approached. She said nothing, only waving her hand, and the one closest to the door opened it, stepping inside and holding the door open for her.
As she walked through the open door, she looked out in front of her, still refusing to look anywhere else. To the sides of her vision she saw dozens of people sitting, but before her she saw Titus standing by what was now her throne. He saw her, and the moment he did he called out loudly, "Gyon op gon Heda."
Nearly as one, every person in the room rose to their feet, all turning to her, but still Lexa refused to look at them. She strode down the path that led down the center of the room, the thin carpet beneath her feet muffling her footsteps. Those steps were all that could be heard as she moved forward, everyone having gone silent the moment she entered the room. Reaching the end of the room, she climbed the few steps up to her throne, and only then did she turn around, allowing her gaze to move over the room.
The moment she turned, all those before her sank to their knees, not having to be told to bow before they all did, their heads lowering for the first time for their new Commander. Lexa's eyes skimmed the crowd, seeing faces she knew well mixed in with faces she barely knew at all. Anya knelt in the front row, just off to her right, and seeing the strong woman bowing before her pushed at something inside the brunette. She did not allow that to show, instead still staring out over her people, but the strangeness of the situation hit her hard. Even in the past few years as she had worked to become Commander, she had never thought of what it would feel like to have Anya, the woman who had truly taught her all she knew, bowing before her. Now she was pretty sure she did not like it, but she pushed the feeling aside.
The only two people in the room not bowing were Gustus, the man having stopped just below her, his eyes still scanning the crowd and looking for any hints of danger, and Titus, standing off to the right just behind her throne. She could feel his eyes on her, could feel his pride even as she looked out over her people, but she ignored that as well. Sweeping her sash out from behind her, she sat in her throne for the first time, finding it no more comfortable than it looked.
"Sit," she called out, her voice stronger than she feared it might be. The silence in the room broke as the dozens of people before her stood back up, many of them moving to the chairs behind them and sitting, while those who stood to the back of the room simply stood once again, their attention just as focused on her as her generals' were.
Again she allowed her gaze to scan the room, and this time it stopped on the three people she had insisted be part of the meeting. The new Nightbloods were all young, all three of them looking out of place in this setting. Two of them stood back, clearly nervous about being there, while the third met Lexa's look, a smile in his eyes even as he fought to control the excitement she could see he clearly felt. Aden, she reminded herself, Aden was his name, and the eight year old looked very comfortable there, considering he had only been brought to Polis two weeks ago. She had not started training yet with him or the other two Nightbloods, having to use the last month to get everything ready so that she could fully take on the role of Commander, but she looked forward to when she could start. The ideas of the lessons made her lift her head higher, made her lips nearly twitch up, almost breaking through her mask. She would train these Nightbloods – and any who joined them before her fight ended – the lessons they needed to know to be the next Commander, just as she had been taught. However, she would teach them the lesson that she had to learn on her own: she would teach them that each of them were worthy of carrying the blood that flowed through their veins, whether they became the next Commander or not.
Letting her gaze move away from the Nightbloods, she once again looked out over her people, finding all eyes on her. They watched her, and she saw the trust, the respect, the devotion that each person showed her. She saw the pride shining in Anya's eyes, saw Costia standing in the back of the room and the love and adoration shining in her face, and what nearly shocked Lexa was that a similar adoration seemed to be coming from many of the other people there as well. It was a different kind of adoration, perhaps, but it was there, and seeing it, her chin lifted even higher. The blood hummed in her veins, an excited energy flowing through her that she had never felt before, and suddenly her throne didn't feel quite so uncomfortable. She leaned back, allowing her arms to fall to the arms of the throne, her fingers relaxed in their grip against the cool wood.
"Let's begin," she called out, and she felt every pair of eyes in the room giving her their full attention. Seeing no reason to dance around the purpose of this meeting, she looked out into the crowd – her people, all of them – and informed them easily, "I am going to unite the Twelve Clans."
And like that, Lexa accepted her role as Heda, Commander of all Twelve Clans. The Nightblood knew her worth, and would spend the rest of her life showing all those who followed her – and those that didn't – just how powerful she was.
This was just an idea I have had running through my head since watching episodes three and four of the new season. Seeing Lexa with the Nightbloods made me wonder what our little Heda was like before she was Heda, and this just kind of sprang to life. I hope that you found it interesting, and for those wondering about "Unbroken," no worries, I should be updating again sometime this week. Thanks!
Trigedasleng Translations:
"Bilaik bakon -" - "The pillars -"
"Gonasleng" - English
"Noun" - Wisdom
"Maunon" - Mountain Men
"En pleni" - Enough
"Yongon" - Child
"Nou" – No
"Ai gona" – My warrior
"Ai Heda" – My Commander
"Ai Leksa" – My Lexa
"Ai hodness" – My love
"Yu hodness" – Your love
"Gyon op gon Heda." - Rise for your Commander.