I keep writing these and they are too enjoyable for me not to. I hope someone other than myself is enjoying them. Let me know! This is just a glimpse into the remainder of their night and the beginning of forging a broken friendship.

"I still don't trust you," Clarke declares after Lexa's hand has fallen from hers.

Lexa flinches just slightly in response before her jaw sets and she swallows heavily. She nods ever so minutely as she says, "I understand, Clarke." It did not matter that Clarke had proclaimed loyalty to the coalition. I did not matter that Lexa had vowed fealty to Clarke herself. Trust was a hard earned virtue. Both of them were far too aware of its value. "I only ask that you give me time to prove myself."

Their stare is unrelenting as Clarke responds with nothing more than fixed eyes and clenched teeth. There was still anger beneath her surface; it struggled against the other bombarding emotions of the past day. She was fraught with confusion and tense with worry. There were questions going unanswered and an entire nation of people which had shifted under a new command tonight, unbeknownst to them. Her rage had been stifled by the immediacy of need and squandered away in the candlelight of honesty. "I respect you," she finally answers back. "That's the best I can offer."

With a flicker of her gaze Lexa looks to Clarke, all of her, before focusing back on the throne behind her. The choice she made had been rash and little time had been spent to consider it. She'd rushed into a decision and Clarke wondered if Lexa would come to regret just how the great Heda had chosen to command her people in this time. Lexa was right, war was brewing, and she was only spurring it on.

This gentle landscape, void of warriors and guards and anything more than a couple of girls, two leaders, left behind from the flurry of ceremonies, was all an illusion. Just outside the door there was more of what they had both encountered too much of already. Neither was looking for more blood on their hands, neither yearned for any further struggles. Yet it waited for them in the night like a predator on the hunt for its prey.

Peace had been lacking in the solitude of the wild.

Harmony could not be found in the outcomes of betrayal.

But during those times there had been quiet. Perhaps it was stifling. At times it may have been overwhelming, but the quiet was constant and the sort of safe that did not guarantee for life to not be broken, but at least hearts would remain whole.

Now when Clarke was no longer alone and Lexa was making right her wrongs, the cycle of quiet had abruptly ended. Perhaps it could be silenced once more. Neither girl was willing to take part in the actions such muting would require.

"As I do you," Lexa replies evenly, as if she had not already made that clear. There was little more to make of Lexa's vow than it being either manipulation, weakness, or the one thing Clarke was not willing to acknowledge. It was the same thing that sat behind Lexa's carefully set lips and was tucked away in the Commander's knowing eyes. It was the same thing that stilled the knife in Clarke's hand and brought down the tower of fury which had built inside of her.

So she considered what it would mean if Lexa was manipulating her. If Clarke was merely a chess piece being moved along the board in order to protect her queen until checkmate could be declared. Lexa was certainly smart enough to know how to use her. Clarke was far too smart to let herself be used.

That lead her to weakness. A weary commander in need of a further alliance. A tired soldier in search of someone to share the load. She was hopeful that in swearing her fealty she would also gain Clarke's willingness to help in every way when it came to this climbing war. They had proven their abilities to command a tribe in the past, uniting two opposing groups for a shared goal. Now that same power was needed once more. Clarke was steadfast in her decisions. She did not waver when it came to getting what she needed. Lexa required someone who would be as determined in their choices as she was. There was no going back from this. The wheels had been set in motion long before tonight, but now the cart was rolling down hill and gaining speed by the second. No force could stop it. It was only with a true army that they stood a chance against this upcoming destruction.

But Clarke too was weak. She had felt no more so than when she slept in the trees of the forest, body shivering and eyes heavy. She had never been weaker than in the moments since the destruction of the mountain. Lexa was no fool. She knew where Clarke was standing. She knew the bond with her people, as their leader, had been severed. She knew that Arkadia was surviving at best, struggling at worst. Was there much to be gained from a girl who did not thirst for any more blood when it came to war?

And that lead Clarke to the option she hid from the most. She shied away from the possibility and shunned out the memory of what it felt like to accept it. She could not forget moments tucked away in the privacy of tents or rushed words and the feeling of safety. Though she may want to deny its continued existence with everything in her, Clarke was no fool. She saw the look Lexa reserved for her. There was gentleness in her touch and hesitancy to her words. It was the sort of caution a commander needn't tend to display.

Yet even now Lexa regarded her as a lioness ready to attack. Lexa was ready to be torn apart by someone she could easily destroy. And Clarke wishes that she could add this knowledge to the pile of things that left her confused. Instead she was able to take this information and convert each glance and touch and soft spoken word to mean what it truly did. "Then let's work together," Clarke says in barely more than a whisper. Though this truth had been obvious since the bag had been pulled from her eyes and a gag released from her mouth, it had laid itself out bare in the form of a bow and a promise. "To defend our people."

At Clarke's words there is a spark in Lexa's eyes, a brief flash of relief as she sees that perhaps this alliance was not doomed once more. "Together," she tests out the word, waiting to see how Clarke will react. "May we vanquish our enemies." She does not say 'once more' as she may have otherwise. Because before they had not conquered their enemies together. Clarke had carried that burden all on her own. Lexa was far too aware to forget that. "And restore peace within the clans."

The words 'and between us,' get caught in Clarke's throat and so she merely nods, more fervently than Lexa before finding the steely caution within. There had been too much weakness shown already. The tears and the shouts and the feral cries that all slipped through unbidden as every desperate emotion fought its way to the forefront. Now she hoped to contain what was unnecessary, find her way back to somewhere between leader and human. "I'll see you in the morning, Clarke," Lexa promises gently as she turns away, walking toward the doors.

"Sheidgeda, Leksa," Clarke says after her. The ability she had obtained to understand Trigedasleng was not one she intended to advertise, but the singular word did not seem as if it would do much harm. Good night was simple, somehow it felt important.

Lexa pauses with her hand outstretched for the door. She does not look back as she says, "Taim soncha." Nothing more passes between them as Lexa walks away the words reverberating in Clarke's head after she is gone. "Until light," she had said. Perhaps it was nothing more than a saying. But it felt like a promise.

/

Darkness has not yet fully encroached on Lexa's quarters when her door swings open without warning. Her fingers had been making quick work of unstrapping each hook and loosening the fabrics that had been tucked and tugged into place. She pauses her actions as she spins to find the intruder, ready with venomous words in regards to her privacy. Before a single syllable has slipped past her lips the contempt fades away, replaced with the image of Clarke standing before her.

Guards announce themselves not a second later and she is horrified to see the way their hands reach out to grab Clarke around her arms. "Pul we!" she commands, stepping forward with as much threat as she can muster when she was halfway disrobed. "Breik hur nau." Her instructions are angry and they abide immediately, hands falling away from Clarke and being held clasped behind them instead, a sign of resignation to their Heda. "You do not touch Clarke with any form of aggression, is that clear? In any manner that you would not touch I as your Commander, you do not touch the Wanheda." She speaks in English, wanting Clarke's safety in all regards made as obvious as possible to her. "You would do best to spread that amongst you as next one to do otherwise will be made an example of."

From there she waves them off and they walk away with a nod of respect first in her direction and then in Clarke's before they turn and go. Once the doors are shut Lexa takes a tentative step toward Clarke, hand reaching out for a second before she drops it to her side. "I believe I said I would see you in the light," she says instead of assessing for Clarke's health. A smirk plays on her lips at her own words and she tries not to be hyperaware of the lack of armour she wore. Her heavy coat had been abandoned, the belts and ties and boots all piled in a corner of her room. She was a person of immaculacy when it came to her people and her plans. However when it came to her room…disorder must be present in one's life somewhere. "Is something troubling you, Clarke?" she asks after a moment.

She shakes her head in response, her mouth falling open and then closing again. "I just, um, I wanted to…" she fades off, her eyes fixed behind Lexa for a moment before she blinks and her focus returns to the commander. Lexa tries not to feel like she's being stared down, vulnerable in so little of her usual uniform. "I wanted to talk about my staying here."

With a nod Lexa moves to cross the room. She stops in front of the table which holds water and glasses. First she pours one for Clarke and then one for herself. She holds it out and Clarke takes a few steps to take it from her. "Go on." It hardly seemed like a matter that couldn't wait until morning, but Lexa didn't mind.

After taking a sip of her drink Clarke sets it on the table beside Lexa, she reaches around her to do so, her arm a mere centimetre away from Lexa's waist. Lexa draws in a breath and hides a tremor as she takes a long drink herself. "I'm fine staying here for the time being but at some point I need to go back to my people, at least for a day or two."

With a single nod Lexa takes another step back. She needed space when she was like…this and Clarke was standing in the middle of her quarters in the dark of night like that. "That can be easily arranged, Clarke. I'd prefer if you stayed here for some time first, but let me know when you're ready and I will take care of it."

"I want you to come with me," she says in that voice Lexa recognises so well as pleading. It wasn't often that it slipped through, but the times it did were not missed. Often times Lexa was uncertain if Clarke was pleading with her or to herself. "I'm not sure how my people will be reacting to our joining of the coalition…" she fades off and Lexa does know that Clarke has a relatively good idea. It would seem the Skaikru had a way of holding grudges as well as the Ice Nation.

"And you think my presence will help?" Her voice drips in dubiousness. It seemed unlikely they would be any more welcoming of the idea with her standing before them. She only served as a reminder of the betrayal they had faced. Their reactions would probably be of only slightly less calibre than Clarke's. "I find that…doubtful."

With a sigh Clarke reaches for her glass again and takes another long drink. Her fingers tap against the side as she holds it in her hand. "It's not like I even know if I want to go back." Her words are strained, tenuous and uncertain on their delivery. Clarke was admitting a truth that she may not have intended to reveal. At least, not with Lexa as her audience.

"And why would that be?" she finds herself asking before she can consider anything else. Her voice slips out soft and tender, the sort of tone that only becomes her when Clarke was before her. It was this kind of behaviour that had tipped the clans off to just where her weakness lay. If nothing else, she needed to control her words and the tremors laced throughout them.

Clarke looks to her, eyes open and honest. It was something Lexa had grown to love about her, she was so expressive. In a mere glance Lexa could determine what Clarke was feeling and thinking. Which may not be beneficial when it comes to war and strategy but when it came to them…she was grateful for it. "Seeing my mom again reminded me that when I left I wasn't just exiling myself. I was abandoning my people."

Abandon. Lexa considers the word with a heavy heart and bites her lip at it. It was an ugly word, somewhere up there with betrayal. "As their leader, I am sure your people will understand the time you needed to grow and recover from the battles you faced." As a leader Clarke never should have left her clan, is what Lexa really thinks. As a leader it does not matter what sort of pain you may face or what amount of loss you have to shoulder. That is inconsequential. The only things that keep one away from their people is illness or duties elsewhere. You do not run.

"I'm not their leader," Clarke says as a response in a breath of air. "You always made me out to be the one who was leading this nation who fell from the sky but that's not who I am."

"You are," Lexa insists, voice heavy and words pressed together in their urgency. "Do not let anyone tell you otherwise, Clarke. You are a leader first and everything else second."

"Why do you think that?" her brows furrow together in question as she stares unflinchingly into Lexa's eyes.

It's with a practiced shrug that Lexa raises her glass for another drink. As this conversation progressed she wished for something a bit stronger than water. "I've seen you, Clarke. And you know yourself the power you hold. It is not something to be hidden away."

"What if I don't want it?" she asks in a harsh whisper. She puts her glass back on the table and walks to the other side of the room. For a moment Lexa thinks this is the end of the conversation and that Clarke will disappear out those doors as suddenly as she had entered.

Sparing another glance toward the pile of armour in the corner of her room and the sword that was hung on her bedpost Lexa fixes her stare back on Clarke who turns to face her from across the room. She was distressed and tired and it was no surprise that she wanted to be rid of these duties she had carried for too long now. Even when Clarke had thought she'd gotten away from them she had been drawn back into it by Lexa herself. "Then you face the truth, Clarke. The truth is that we do not always get to choose. We must accept that we are who we are."

"Do you ever wish you weren't Commander?" she asks and not for the first time since this evening Lexa thinks of Clarke kneeling in front of her once more, ceremonial dress encasing her body and makeup dark and furious around her eyes. She had been someone else in that moment as she'd stared at the floor beneath her feet when she had bowed to Lexa. It was not the Clarke she knew so much as the Clarke she often times had to be.

Of course Lexa knows her answer. She had known her answer when she'd been nine years old and having stitches from a sword cut laced through her arm. She had known her answer when she had lost her first love to a traitorous queen and the nuances of war. She had known her answer when the girl she wanted nothing more than to be simply equal with was on her knees before her, as unwilling to conform to the arrangement as Lexa had been when she put the idea forth. "Wishes are pointless. Life is what matter."

The answer doesn't seem to satisfy her as Clarke takes long strides back so she's standing right in front of Lexa. Not for the first time she sees the red of her eyes and the cut along her brow and the sunken feature of her cheek bones. It is not news to Lexa that Clarke is weak even though she is so very strong. "Well maybe I don't want this life anymore."

Lexa shakes her head. "No, Clarke, your wishes don't count and nor do mine. We face our duties like we always have and-"

"And where has that gotten us?" she practically shouts. Lexa flinches away out of reflex. Clarke's angry outbursts had not exactly gone her way in recent days. "My duties have landed me nowhere but hell."

Lexa's eyes flicker back and forth across Clarke's face. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm both her own frantic heart rate and Clarke's wild eyes. "Yes," Lexa finally spits out. Clarke looks up at her in question so Lexa goes so far as to admit, "There have been times where I wish I wasn't the Commander." Times when she wished she could run free and love fully and not be so focused on control and perfection and holding together twelve clans in a desperate hope of preventing war. "But that is not what matters."

"Then what does?" Clarke asks and the question is so innocent and pleading and hopeful that Lexa wants to reach out and kiss her all over again. She wants to feel her lips respond and pull Clarke a little closer and remember what it is like to fulfil the things you wish and deny the duties you've had thrust upon you.

But then Lexa remembers where that had landed her in the past and instead she stands a little taller and focuses on the pain on the side of her foot from she had met the Ice Nation's ambassador's armour as she kicked him from the roof. "The things I choose to do as a commander. How I lead my people and what I do to protect them. Whether you think you're a leader or not, Clarke, is hardly what matters. It is the things we do with what we already have."

Maybe it wasn't much of an answer and it certainly was not what Clarke wanted to hear, but she stands down. Her muscles relax and her shoulders drop and she looks weary once more. The war had not yet begun but she had been fighting her own battle for far too long now. "I'll go with you to see our people, Clarke," she says as a gentle reminder that she too was their leader now. Clarke was not in this alone. "But first we must begin preparations and secure Polis as a safe zone." Clarke nods and yawns. "In the morning, though." Lexa tries not to smile but it seems not to be possible. The pull on her lips fights against gravity. "Sheidgeda, Klark."

With a gentle smile Clarke reaches out a hand and squeezes Lexa's forearm. It's a strong grip that is very nearly uncomfortable for the brief moment that Clarke holds it. Lexa does not so much as breathe. "Until the light, Lexa."

After she's left Lexa is left to think about wishes. Try as she might they fight their way through her logical thinking. It is not about being pardoned from position or free of burdens. But instead she clings to the scent that seems to fill her room and inches a little further to the middle of the bed, wishing there was someone else there to fill it. She wishes for Clarke and it's not reality, but she clings to the hope that one day it may be.