Author's Note: This is my first story. I also have limited access to the series. So if you take the time to read this and like it, feel free to review it with recommendations or any corrections. Reviews are awesome and they will make me love your virtual self. I don't quite know where this story is headed, and I'm always one episode behind, so I don't know what happens in 2x11 yet. But I'll get there. Honestly I just wanted to write something about these two amazing women. Oh, and the rating is definitely going to change in the future. Thanks! Enjoy!


Clarke woke with a start, her chest constricting as her lungs desperately fought her body to take in the oxygen her heart needed. She was covered in a cold sweat, the scratchy blanket wrapped haphazardly around her waist and left leg, proof that she had spent another night twisting and turning restlessly in her sleep. Another night fighting dreams.

She tried to calm her heart, closing her eyes and pressing a fist into her forehead, as though it could dispel the dark scenes her mind had delivered her instead of sorely needed rest. Yet even as her breathing slowly regained normalcy, the tension in her chest did not subside. She had dreamt of dark beasts with long fangs running havoc in the settlement, tearing her friends and family apart limb from limb. She had heard tortured screams surround her, yet even with all the death she knew their source to be Mount Weather. She had seen red eyes filled with blood and rage, and the forest go up in black smoke.

Sighing, Clarke slowly sat up on her bed. There seemed no reprieve from the onslaught of horrors, whether it be in life or during her sleep. Yet at least in life she had the ability to control some small part of what happened in all the chaos she had been dropped into. Dressing slowly, she splashed some cold water on her face and made her way outside.

The sun was just beginning to make its presence known on the horizon, not yet delivering any warmth, but lighting the sky in a pale hard grey. Even so, the camp was already alive with activity, albeit mainly due to the Grounders. They moved about, gathering food, sharpening weapons, training, discussing with one another in their tongue, glaring at her as she walked by. She made a mental note to make a greater effort to learn the language, it would be beneficial to uphold more than a one-sentence conversation with these people, especially if Quint was anything to go by. Who knew who else might be planning on ambushing her, and this time Lexa may not save her.

Lexa. Clarke frowned as she aimlessly followed her feet through the camp, working off the night's agitation. That girl was equal parts frustrating and exhilarating. Stubborn and wise. Wild and controlled. Clarke's eyebrows furrowed together as she recalled being in the cage with her as the monstrous gorilla had been pounding against the weakening metal door. How she had said to not be afraid, that death was not the end. Yet Clarke was almost certain she had heard her voice waver, she had seen the look of determination in her eyes, not one that was accepting her fate, but one the burned with the desire to live. To be free.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud cheer ahead of her. Snapping her head up, she saw a small group of Grounders formed in a large disjointed circle ahead of her, watching multiple people spar in the middle. Focusing her eyes on the figures in the center, she recognized one's distinct shape. Her chestnut hair swirling around her face which was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, eyes ablaze with determination and focus as she weaved her body in and out of the thrusts and attacks of her opponents.

Lexa's left arm still moved somewhat stiffly, most likely still sore from the fall, yet it did nothing to deduct from her elegance as she fought her underlings. Without taking her eyes off of the figure, Clarke slowly drifted closer to the battle, watching with awe.

The Commander was fighting two male warriors, a third stood begrudgingly off to the side with a large gash along his forehead, most likely the cause of the previous cheer. The other two, who were of a formidable size, seemed unable to land a single blow on their leader. What Lexa lacked in strength, she made up in with speed and fluidity. As one man lifted his machete high to achieve a maximum amount of force, she quickly took advantage of his exposed body, slamming the butt of her weapon into his stomach before swiping her foot around to kick at his legs, causing him to loose balance and fall. She held her sword to his neck and pinned him with a stare.

However, while her attention was on him, the second man moved in, wrapping his thick arms around Lexa's neck and dragging her back. As he did, the man on the floor smacked the weapon out of her hand, earning him shouts of anger from the crowd of people watching, even as he backed away to sit next to the first man, an equally irritated look on his face.

Meanwhile, Lexa continued to attempt to free herself from the choke hold her third and last opponent had her in. As she strained to breathe, she slammed her elbow into her attacker's side, who, although wincing slightly with each hit, did not loosen his grip. Clarke watched with wide eyes as Lexa's tanned skinned face began to redden, her heart beating quicker with each moment passing. She wanted to yell at them to stop, to release her, but she knew that it would be seen as an offense to the Commander's strength should she intervene. So instead she watched anxiously as Lexa choked, her own throat refusing to let any oxygen through.

In movements that seemed continuously controlled, even while being deprived of air, Lexa spread her stance and smacked her head back into the man's face, a fountain of blood erupting from his nose. His grip momentarily loosened, Lexa grabbed onto his arm, swung around so it was extended to the side and she was standing behind it and forcibly pushed her palm into his elbow, as she kicked into the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. Twisting his arm even further, she growled out a question, which when ignored, she underlined by putting more pressure into bending the man's joint in a way that should not be bent. Only when it looked as though the arm was about to snap did the man cry out and admit defeat.

A rugged cheer went up again throughout the crowd, and Clarke released the breath she had been holding. She watched as Lexa smacked her last opponent on the back with a curt nod, speaking in a low voice, as others moved forward to begin their own training. Clarke did not realize she had been staring at Lexa until the latter's eyes suddenly connected with hers. For a moment the Commander did not move, a split second of hesitation that even Clarke would not have noticed had she not picked up a light waver in the girl's eyes.

Leaving her people behind, Lexa made her way over to Clarke, her head carried high and her face as emotionless as always. She could see the sweat trickling down the Commander's face as she got closer, and involuntarily her eyes slid down to her neck, widening slightly at the angry red mark there, one that would no doubt lead to a large bruise.

"That looks painful." Clarke blurted out before she could stop herself, cursing herself as Lexa came to a stop in front of her, her eyebrow raising slightly at the comment.

"It is not."

Looking back up into her eyes, Clarke gave her a look. "Sure thing."

There was a pause in the conversation, though it was a stretch to call it that. As always, Lexa was not keeping up her part, instead fixing Clarke with a look she could not read. The wind picked up lightly, blowing past the Commander and enveloping Clarke in her scent, which she breathed in deeply despite herself. Salty sweat, dark wet earth, softly bitter smoke, and the slightest brush of sweet tree sap all flashed in her mind as she inhaled Lexa's scent.

Realizing what she was doing, she took half a step back, blood rushing to her face as she looked away. "How is your arm?"

"Well. I had it reset by Indra. It was good to use it in training today."

"You were quite impressive." Clarke said, breathing in shallow breaths as the wind continued to swirl around them.

"That was hardly my best." Lexa said, a slight smirk on her lips that Clarke caught out of the side of her eye. "It would do you well to train as well, Clarke of the Sky People. Should Bellamy indeed make it inside the mountain, we will need all the warriors we can get."

She looked up to meet the Commander's eyes as a jolt of guilt flashed through her. Bellamy. She had not thought of him at all since she had woken. She should visit Raven as soon as possible, yet she hesitated, not quite willing to leave just yet. The sun was just about to peak the horizon, she could see its golden rays reaching towards the sky.

"I have my gun." She responded coolly, not dropping her eyes from the piercing look she was receiving.

"Your gun can run out of bullets. A sword cannot, your hands cannot."

"I doubt I'll be able to get close enough to anyone else with a gun to use my fists." Clarke muttered.

"Not all of your enemies carry guns, Clarke." She responded, a flame igniting in her eyes before being smothered by the emotionless mask.

"You mean like Quint." It was not a question. She already knew there were others among the grounders who bore her no warm feelings.

This time Lexa looked away, her eyes squinting at the rising sun as her hand clenched around her sword's hilt. "Not all of my people realize your importance."

"And you think that by training I'll be able to change that? One of them may "accidentally" break my neck during a training session. No thanks." Clarke saw Lexa's jaw clench momentarily, as she turned her head to face her again, fixing her with a hard stare. "Besides, who would be willing to train me?"

Lexa did not respond, her face becoming even harder to read as the sun finally managed to protrude through the clouds and illuminated her from behind, casting her face in shadows. Clarke sighed, squinting slightly against the light. "Look, Lexa, I'll be fine. I need to go check up on Raven, see if Bellamy has contacted her."

She paused for a moment, waiting for a response, and, upon receiving none, turned and walked towards the mechanic's room, leaving Lexa standing on the slight hill, bathing in the sunlight. Clarke breathed in deeply, embracing the clear air, ignoring the light scent of sweat, smoke and earth that seemed to have attached itself to her.