What the fuck was that episode? I can't even talk about it yet because I am pissed. So here is the world I am living in for the time being instead of that shitstorm Jason left us with. I'm thinking just two chapters, this first one being in Lexa's POV and the next Clarke's. Do tell me what you think and if you're interested in reading more. Not necessarily plot heavy but definitely focusing on Clarke/Lexa and the potential they had.
The gun shots ring out and that's all it takes to send Lexa running. Shots were not a familiar sound in her life, despite all of the war and death she often oversaw. But the sudden piercing rupture of the previous silence leaves her blood running cold and her feet pounding down the corridor to the only place she can think of. Any of her people could be in danger right now. In the future maybe she could reason her choices by saying that Clarke's room was the most likely place for a gunshot to take place or that her room was the closest to go. In the moment the reality was that Lexa could think of one person only. Her main concern rested in a girl who had shared her bed only moments earlier. She was all that mattered despite so many others being lead blindly under Lexa's protection.
When she bursts through the door she quickly draws to a stop, seeing the commotion all throughout the room. At no point in the half of minute that her mind had been racing as quickly as her feet had Lexa considered that Titus, the man responsible for raising her and guiding her and protecting her, would be the one holding a gun in his hand. The revelation is shocking enough that she's frozen for several heavy seconds.
As soon as her presence is known Titus freezes, as does Clarke.
There's a stream of bright red blood spilling from Clarke's upper arm and it sends a pulse of fear through Lexa. She'd had enough loss to last her a lifetime. She refused to lose the girl she loves and the man she trusts all in one fell swoop.
In hurried footsteps Lexa runs to Clarke, sparing the dirty, bloodied boy who was tied up near her only a single glance. He could wait, whoever he was. "What have you done?" she snarls out, looking to Titus who does not look nearly shameful enough for Lexa's taste, not after the sort of treason he had just committed. "Clarke…"
"I'm fine." She forces the words out and swallows heavily, straining her neck around to see the wound in her arm. "Just a scratch." It was more than a scratch, but on further evaluation Lexa also sees that it is not the sort of injury that usually leads to death. It was gaping and bloody and messy, but it was something which would heal given time.
"Guards!" she shouts, looking from Titus, to the boy, and back to Clarke. She presses a hand against Clarke's wound to try and stanch the bleeding. Men rush in with long spears and hard set stances. They too freeze upon entrance in an attempt to determine just who it was they were here to detain. "Lock him up," Lexa practically growls with a gesture toward Titus. The betrayal was far too deep for her to feel any sort of remorse in this moment.
Though it is not uncommon for the trustworthy to be revealed as traitors, especially in her land, even her guards take pause before approaching Titus.
They don't question her orders.
Titus does not resist.
"Keep a guard with him at all times. Strip him of his robes and ensure that no food or water is given." It is the sort of punishment fit for only the greatest of criminals. It was the kind of command only ordered when there were great losses of life and much destruction. Though no one died today, Titus could die by thousands of cuts from her very own blade and it would still not be enough. Their earlier conversation fills her headspace when she looks over to where he stands, gun now lying helplessly on the ground. He did not trust her to keep her feelings separate from duty then so be it. She would make sure he knew her exact feelings.
Six guards go with Titus, tying his wrists and forcing his head down as they walk forward. It was more than strictly necessary, but Lexa would not be surprised if they were going in hopes of discovering just what had gone down in Wanheda's chambers.
"And what of the boy?" one the remaining guards asks, nodding his chin toward the bloodied figure still tied up.
"Let him go," Clarke says her stance swaying as she spoke.
Lexa takes the arm not pressing against Clarke's wound and wraps it around her, trying to lead her to the bed. "Do as she says," Lexa instructs without bothering to consider the consequences. Her mind had enough space to consider only one thing, one person, right now. She was not about to waste any of her concentration. "Watch him carefully."
Clarke grimaces while being lowered to the bed, Lexa presses hard against the still bleeding wound, the blood seeping through her fingers even as she does. "Raise my arm," Clarke says, trying herself to manipulate the limb but to no avail. Lexa follows instructions and holds it up. Her first aid training had been enough to keep her alive, perhaps do a messy dressing on a fellow soldier on the battlefield, but Clarke's medical knowledge was far superior. So it should not be of surprise when the bleeding does in fact slow after a minute.
"I need bandages," Lexa says to anyone who might be listening.
It's the nameless boy who holds out an offering of old rags. Lexa recognises them as being from the same cloth that Clarke once had wrapped Lexa's own hand in. Not for the first time she thinks that there is too much violence in their lives. Not for the last time she longs for an ounce of peace.
"Are you a friend of Clarke's?" Lexa inquires as she accepts the bandages. Clarke uses her good hand to point to where Lexa should begin wrapping it and she does as told.
"That's a loaded question," he grunts. It is not missed by Lexa that he stands with a hunched posture and a fixed grimace. Though he was facing his own bought of pain he was still willing to help Clarke. That was good enough for her. "I'm more her friend than your crazy servant at least."
It wasn't a comforting answer. "He's no true servant of mine," Lexa answers. When Clarke's hand wraps around her wrist Lexa is reminded of only a short while before and the same desperate grasp guiding her hand exactly where it had been cautiously daring to travel on its own, the path it was taking a little too slow for Clarke's liking. She's taken back to the perfect moment that had once again been replaced with fear and pain in its stead.
Clarke's gaze is unfocused but she works her eyes to Lexa's face. "Octavia…she'll be waiting for me."
It was terribly selfish but Lexa can't block the thought that at least now Clarke would be able to stay in Polis a little while longer. It intrudes before she can turn it away, but then the sticky warmth against her hand grounds her back in reality. "I'll send another rider to your people, let them know you intended to come but were prevented because of injury."
At this rate she'd best hope there was no other news to deliver. She was running low on riders to send out.
Someone must have had the common sense to grab a healer as he comes into the room, proper bandages and herbs and knowledge in place. He looks between the two girls, his commander and the commander of death, and Lexa knows he is judging the redness of her eyes and the clutch she has against Clarke's arm and there is no doubt in her mind that she looks desperate and lost because she feels nothing but.
"Step aside, Heda," he instructs and she releases her hold, moving to Clarke's other side. There were other things that needed to be tended to. A traitor to be dealt with, a probable uprising threatening her every waking moment, and one of Clarke's people who had somehow shown up as a captive in her room. But she thinks of the idealistic hope Clarke had offered earlier. She thinks of being free of her people and all that she owed them.
There were other things to tend to but there was only one place she needed to be.
Holding Clarke's good hand in her own shaky yet strong grasp, Lexa forgets her duties and focuses on her feelings. She presses her forehead to Clarke's temple when she hisses out a breath of pain and Lexa holds on to what little she has in life.
For once, she notices as fingers find hers and lips turn to kiss the side of her jaw, someone holds her back.