Wanheda. The name granted to the infamous Skaikru warrior. Her name would survive this battle, whether she herself did or not. The legends of her ferocity in battle were immortal and feared. It was often said that once Wanheda was brought to a battle, the opposing force would lose all morale- death in great numbers was imminent, all done by her own hand. She was blessed with the gift of death by the universe, a fearsome destiny.
Heda Lexa had seen her once, outside of the glimpses of spy reconnaissance. Two years ago, there was an attempted peace-treaty between all the clans, including the Skaikru, but it was all in vain, as the Skaikru leaders were hard to budge. Wanheda, clothed in armor and a dark hued sash, extended her right hand in greetings to the Commander that day- "Clarke, Clarke Griffin," she introduced pleasantly. But before Lexa could reciprocate, Wanheda was ordered to disengage by Councilor Jaha. The legendary warrior seemed nothing more than a young girl. While young herself, Lexa had imagined an older woman, of course, probably in her late thirties, early forties, but did not expect a girl with the gracefulness of youth still playing on her skin. Her hair was a pale hue, long and seemingly thick, and her eyes, grey like everyone else in Lexa's world, seemed incredibly light. Clarke had a charming smile, but Lexa knew not to fall for pleasure. Everyone had heard of great leaders falling for seduction from the opposing side. It was one of the most dishonorable, yet incredible common, forms of losing battles, wars, and nations. Lexa's reign as Commander was overwhelmed with battles, her victories and losses inscribed on pottery and woven into tapestries. The Commander would often find the depiction of Wanheda in the art that contained her failures. She HATED Wanheda. That sly and cunning bitch, always with a trick up her sleeve to give her the upper hand. If the war could be ended in hand-to-hand combat, Lexa would surely win. This thought consumed her, and drove her to this day.
As her and her warriors had marched to the agreed-upon stretch of land to be the battlefield, Lexa had told them all: "If you find Wanheda, subdue her somehow and bring her to me. I will kill her myself, and end this war. Without Wanheda, Skaikru will crumble." Some had asked her about the fears of martyrdom, to which the Commander simply replied, "Wanheda will not be a martyr to her people. My nemesis is a tool to her people, you act like you're not aware of how much selfish they are. She fights their dirtiest battles because they don't want to themselves. Once I kill her in front of them, no one will rebel; they will simply blame her corpse for not having fought hard enough. I almost pity the warrior."
The sky was grey, the rivers were grey, the grass, boulders, blood- all grey, black, and silver. The spring, the summer, the winter- all dead shades of color. The title of Commander came with a life of solitude, but nowhere in the written codes did it say the Commander could not take on lovers. She would engage in the pleasures of woman for a night or so, every now and then scattered among the years. Her physical needs required tending to, so taking someone to bed was never questioned, as long as it wasn't the same woman appearing too much. Emotional needs, on the other hand, were constantly neglected. Lexa wouldn't be human if she said she didn't long for the chance to see the world in color- to find her soulmate and experience true lover.
"They're here, Heda," said Octavia The Defector, walking up to stand beside the Commander on top of the hill overlooking the fields beneath them, their battalions among battalions behind them.
"Octavia," Lexa spoke calmly, still surveying the land. "Pledge your allegiance to me."
"I have already, Heda," the Skaikru-born girl claimed.
"Again," Lexa demanded. "Today, you kill your brother, by your hand or not. Today we fight until the Skaikru are gone, or surrender. There will be no other end to this battle."
There was a second of hesitation, before Octavia responded. "I pledge my allegiance to you, Heda Lexa, til the end of my days. I have already mourned the loss of my brother."
"Good," Lexa accepted, as she saw the Skaikru forces emerge from the fog below. "Ready the warriors."
"Yes, Heda."
Lexa could hear the growls of her soldiers behind her, rumbling their earth with the cries of starved bloodlust. They were charging beside her within seconds, the ground feeling like it was going to collapse with the force of two stampedes rushing towards each other. Bodies crashed into one another, the weak falling to the ground, only to be trampled to death, the strong standing firm- immovable. The Skaikru had run out of firearms and recyclable ammunition and power a century ago, and the battlefield was finally even. First against first, sword against shield. The sounds of the battlefield, the groans of soldiers and the clashing of metal, echoed in Lexa's ears like the sea trapped in a shell.
Many died by her hand before they could raise their sword-arm. Skaikru tasted the wrath and pain of the Grounders in full. The invaders who came from the sky generations ago would soon finally leave the Earth. And then the bruised and beaten forces of the Skaikru roared, reinvigorated by a presence. Lexa knew who.
"Wanheda! Wanheda! Wanheda!" chanted the Skaikru, drunk on morale. The rear of the Skaikru lines began to part, making way for the woman. Lexa could feel her warriors hesitate on the battlefield, worried of this titan's emergence.
"Do not feat Wanheda!" Lexa shouted, offended that her presence alone wasn't enough to stop the fear Wanheda placed in her warriors' hearts. "I am here to destroy her! Fear not! Worry about the others, like you have triumphed already. Wanheda is mine!"
The Grounders cheered in this brief heart lifting encouragement.
Lexa saw her. Swords were swinging still, the battle never stopped, but Wanheda simply walked forward to the front lines, sword drawn. She was ethereal.
The Commander wouldn't let her hurt her people. She must distract Wanheda while her warriors thinned the Skaikru pawns. They made eye contact and Lexa charged forward.
Lexa swung, Clarke parried, with a ringing noise that echoed across the entire field.
Lexa swung again, this time a low slash aimed for Wanheda's core. Clarke's quickly held her sword vertically to parry once again, but took a step back, which caught Lexa's eye. The Commander had the aggressive upper hand. If she kept up, Wanheda would keep slowly retreating back into her lines. The Skaikru hero made a side step and used both hands to take a swing at Lexa's ribs. A direct hit.
Lexa cried out in pain as a sharpness throbbed through her side like multiple surges of electricity. Maybe Wanheda was a threat after all. But Lexa was probably going easy on her, because the Commander was an expert at dual weapons. Unsheathing her second blade, Lexa unleashed a swift series of attacks, keeping Wanheda on her toes. The girl even groaned at a couple hits, overwhelmed by the master swordswoman. And Wanheda couldn't keep up, everyone could tell. Some Skaikru even tried to interfere to aid their hero, but were taken down by any Grounder close to the epic spectacle. A modern Hector and Achilles- but who was which? The victor would reveal it soon enough.
Wanheda swung with deep energy, using her blade to knock a sword away from the Commander's grasp. It was now even again- one sword versus one sword. Wanheda was proud of herself, a small su
rprised smile creasing on her lips. But this duel was taking too long, and Lexa's heart was heavy with rage and hate. With her free hand, she swung a solid punch across Wanheda's face, crashing into the corner of her mouth. It was powerful enough to send the young warrior to the ground. Lexa's vision was going haywire with what she thought was rage and kneeling down too fast as she straddled the fallen Wanheda and placed her hands around the girl's throat. The battle was coming to a halt, everyone watching Heda Lexa end Wanheda's life. There were chanting and cries of defeat everywhere.
She was planning on stabbing the girl over and over with her dagger, but her hate wanted more. She squeezed on the girl's throat, Wanheda weakly reaching up, attempting to pull Lexa's hands away, but couldn't, they just meekly caressed. This was for Anya. For Gustus! For all those she lost by Wanheda's own hands! Wanheda began to choke, and Lexa watched blood seep into her mouth from the wound her punch delivered. It had split her lip horrifically. Her blue eyes began to roll back into unconsciousness-
Lexa retreated her hands, holding them up in almost a surrendering position.
Blue.
The colors began to bleed all around the Commander. Green grass, dark brown earth mixed in with crimson blood, yet the sky remained grey. Realization took hold of the Commander, immediately followed by regret and shame. Her soulmate laid on the ground, unmoving. Her arms lifelessly on each side of her, her chin tilted upwards to the sky, and her hair! Such golden strands tussled about in from their vigorous battle.
Lexa reached forward to the girl, shaken with fear.
"Wake up!" Lexa cried, grabbing the collars of Clarke's armored tunic. She shook the girl's limp body aggressively. "Wake up! Come back!"
Everyone watched, completely confused by the scene. Wouldn't Heda be excited to have put an end to her nemesis?
"Retreat!" came the voice of a Skaikru general in the distance. "Leave the corpse of Wanheda!"
Tears began to brim in Lexa's eyes and her voice croaked, as she still shook the body of Wanheda, but weakly. "Wake up … Clarke…"