It's been two years since Costia, two years since the Ice queen delivered her head to you, two years since you swore to never be weak again.
But then the Skaikru fall from the heavens, their descents marked by trails of fire in the sky. The elders in the village take it as an omen, herald of change. You hold no faith in omens.
You first hear of Clarke from the scouts sent to watch the intruders' camp. As they recite their reports, they speak of the Skaikru leader with the golden hair. After the Skai people launch the rockets, setting villages ablaze, Anya takes it upon herself to bring justice. You send your best warriors to help. None of them come back. Later you'll learn it's because of Clarke.
The first time you see her it's as she enters the war tent. You should be strong, be angry against the one who killed 300 of your warriors with a raging inferno but for a brief moment you can't help getting lost in her eyes, blue like the sky she came from. She is courageous, you'll give her that. She tells of her escape from Mt Weather, the people trapped there, caged like animals. The news of Anya's death is the hardest to hear, even though you had already guessed as much. Clarke reaches slowly into her pocket, hands you a lock of Anya's hair. Your sadness and anger spill over into your next words demanding she reveal her offer.
She says they can turn the reapers back into men.
Over the coming weeks, you gain respect for her, watching her fight to save her people. She can't help it, it seems. First Finn, sliding the thin blade between his ribs. Then it's they one they call Raven. When Clarke takes a gulp from the supposedly poisoned liquor, panic ties a knot in your stomach. Love is weakness, you remind yourself. But then she saves your life, refusing to leave you to the pauna, literally pulling you from its grasp. She doesn't give up after that either, not even when you're stuck in a dead end and the only thing in between you and certain death is your sword wedged through the door handles. And that's when you realize maybe the elders were right, because she makes you feel something you haven't in a long time... Hope.
She's charging at you almost, making you back up across your own tent, her tone a growl as she speaks. "You felt something for Gustus. You're still haunted by Costia," she accuses. "You want everyone to think you're above it all, but I see right through you." You hit the table with your legs, scramble to grasp it with your hands as panic sets in. "Get out," you hiss at her. But she continues, eyes sparkling with defiance. "Two hundred and fifty people died in that village. I know you felt for them. But you let them burn."
You swallow the lump in your throat, try desperately to get the words out.
"Not everyone. Not you."
"Maybe life shouldn't be about just surviving," she says, "don't we deserve better then that?" She turns her face away for a moment, fighting her emotions, and when she looks back at you the sadness and pain in her eyes makes your heart break.
"Maybe we do," you reply. and you can't stop yourself. Reaching forward, you cup her cheek gently, like a fragile flower. Then your lips are on hers and it's enough to make the world retreat for a moment. She returns the kiss, her lips soft on yours, perhaps needing comfort as much as you and then she's pulling away and a stab of fear goes through you. "I'm sorry... I'm not ready to be with anyone, not yet." She whispers, pleading for understanding and you nod.
Maybe. Someday.
The attack on Mt Weather is doomed to failure. You knew this from the start and yet you stood next to her, waiting against all odds for the door to open. Saving your people has come with a great price. But victory stands on the back of sacrifice. You repeat this over and over in your head as you watch the realization of your betrayal dawn on her face. You clench your jaw, willing yourself to be made of iron in this moment. Not trusting yourself to speak, you lock gazes with her, needing her to know this is not what you wanted.
"What did you do?" she breathes, hurt and confusion mixing on her face.
"The same thing you would have." you say, as you study her face, needing to capture this last moment with her to memory. "I made this choice with my head, not my heart."
All of the Sky people fight back as the Mountain men descend on them. Except Clarke. She can do nothing except stare at you, mind fumbling to make sense of the pieces.
Finally one of your generals lays a hand on your shoulder. "Come, heda."
You shake out of your trance.
"May we meet again, Klarke kom Skaikru," and it's as you turn away from her that you feel the lone tear trailing down your check.
The mountain men make short work of Clarke. You knew they would, she was the Skaikru leader after all. Cut off the head and kill the body. You can't cry for her again, the sky princess with the golden hair. You have no tears left to give. They find her body in the mines days later, stiff and lifeless. Her unseeing glaze seems to mock you with promises of what could have been, should have been in a kinder time. The burning of her body is a thing you oversee yourself, needing closure somehow but not knowing what to do. You watch the flames curl around her, caressing her. Perhaps it is fitting that they get to touch her more than you ever did. After all, you hurt her far more than flames ever could.