Chapter One
I Forget: The unwritten rule of sci-fy: the guy always gets the girl. The girl may have a kiss with another girl or even several girls, she may have a relationship with a girl or several girls, but she will always get with the guy in the end. Lesbian relationships are to be experimental only, they never last. Unfortunately, it looks like The 100 will be no different.
This is why I love fanfiction, such as yours. They break the rule. Keep writing! :]
~o0o~
This is for I Forget, because of your review this idea popped up into my head, so I decided to roll with it. I hope it makes you love fanfiction just a bit more!
In this, I will explore with you how this unwritten rule, like any other rule, can be broken. 'Cuz let's face it, Lexa doesn't follow shit.
This oughta be maybe eight chapters, or hell, it could be two or three for all I know, we'll see where this goes.
Lexa's chest was heaving, and the snarl on her lips made her look more feral than Clarke felt was possible. Her eyes were almost completely black, her jacket having been thrown off after she removed her hood to reveal them. The war paint on her face had been reapplied, giving her a solid black mask akin to a dragon, darker than night with wings that dripped the death that came as a promise in her eyes. A full leather chest plate adorned her chest, appropriate areas doubled with the thick black leather. Though it didn't hinder her movements in the slightest, Clarke noted, as Lexa whirled to sever a man's torso from his legs, her blade cutting through flesh and bone like butter.
Clarke inhaled, calming her already frayed nerves as she waited in anticipation for two Grounders to pry open a set of heavy steel doors. Those doors would lead to Cage Wallace, and Clarke would kill him as promised.
The two massive Grounder men destroyed the door mechanisms, then stuck shafts of tempered steel into the small crack between the two heavily stickered doors. They pried them apart quickly, and Lexa leapt into the room, quickly killing the three unimportant mountain men that stood to protect Cage. They shook in their boots and began to fire, only to drop in pieces moments later. Lexa huffed, slamming her foot into the face of a mountain man whose arm she had severed clear of his body. She broke his nose, and a shard of cartilage was launched into his brain, finally killing him.
Lexa turned to stare at a shaking Cage, fear finally erupting on his usually passive or angry face. Lexa's eyes bore into his with a look that spoke of pain and death. He should be tortured, but she had promised Clarke the final kill, but not after she had a decent bit of time with the bastard. He owed her blood, and she was going to take it for her people, for herself, for Anya, for Costia, for everyone that had suffered and she had never been able to save. He would bear the weight of all their spilled blood.
In one quick movement, Lexa was upon Cage, smashing him into the wall before she brought her blade down against his shoulder, slicing his arm clear off of his torso. Cage screamed, and Clarke rushed into the room, the Grounders staying outside to guard the two leaders.
"Lexa!" Clarke shouted, catching the Commanders wrist just as she was about to bring her sword down to sever Cage's other arm. "That's not what we agreed on."
Lexa snarled, slamming her fist into Cage's throat to keep him occupied. "I give you the final kill, but I must have blood to pay for the blood he has taken from my people."
"He's taken blood from my people too!" Clarke shouted, shoving Lexa back.
The Commander's eyes narrowed, and in a sudden motion she whirled, severing Cage's other arm. He was on the verge of passing out from the pain, but Clarke rushed to hold him up by the front of his ruined mouse-gray suit.
An almost gentle smile had wormed its way onto Clarke's lips, adding to the intensity she brought with her when she stepped into the room. She had been slashed across the bridge of her nose, the blade merely gliding through her skin, but it bled. She suffered a bruise on her jaw, and it turned purple. She still looked to be one of the most terrifying sights Cage had ever laid witness to, and with her deadly Grounder lapdog standing behind her, blade coated in his blood and eyes intense in their fury, he was ready to either piss himself or die. At this point, he preferred death.
But Clarke had some things she wanted to say. She slammed Cage's head back into the screen behind him, shattering the glass and causing the screen to go dark. "You're a sick little shit, Cage Wallace. I've hated you from day one, and I've wanted to kill you since then. But before I do, I just want to let you in on a few things: One, you've lost, your men lay dead by the feet of my own. Two, you too will be dead. Three, the last thing you see, will be my face, so look into the eyes of your executioner, Cage Wallace, and face your fate."
Cage looked directly into Clarke's eyes, his face twisted hideously in pain and misery.
Clarke swallowed, the hand that held her favorite dagger tensing.
She drove it into Cage's heart. She let go of the front of his suit, and his armless, motionless body slid down the wall to slump on the floor.
"Jus drein jus draun," Clarke said firmly, dropping the dagger on the floor, the weight of the day finally coming down in full force.
Lexa stood tall, unwavering in her stance. Clarke looked at her. Lexa was a sentinel, a warrior, a leader.
A demon. Clarke looked into Lexa's eyes, and they were black, unshed tears in her eyes and it was then that Clarke realized what was happening. The weight of everyone's death had finally come down upon Lexa's mind, and she was breaking. All of the decisions she had made, for her people, for Clarke, they were all crashing down on her conscious, a part of her she had tried so hard to ignore so she could be the leader her people needed. Clarke strode over to the girl, clasping tan, bruised cheeks in her own blood soaked palms. They were both so guilty, of so many things, but innocence was something they strived to preserve through their guilt. They had strived to protect life, maybe Lexa needed to be reminded of such.
"Lives saved. Not lives taken. Remember, Lexa? You know this. I know this. We did it Lexa, the war is won, and even more lives have been saved." Clarke whispered, her voice hoarse as she herself struggled not to cry, but her tears would be of a different kind. Relief, all Clarke could bring herself to feel was relief. She had her friends back, her mom was safe, Octavia, Lincoln, Raven and everyone else were safe. Lexa was safe.
Lexa nodded, swallowing audibly, though Clarke pretended not to hear it for both of their benefit. Clarke let her thumb ghost over Lexa's tan cheek, gently caressing a slowly darkening bruises that threatened to mar her beauty. Of course, in Clarke's eyes, it failed to follow through with such a threat. She watched Lexa's eyes flutter closed as she pressed her cheek into Clarke's palm, the other pale hand tracing down her face to rest on her shoulder. Lexa sighed, and soon, Clarke did as well, pressing her fair-skinned forehead against Lexa's collarbone as strong arms came around to wrap themselves around her waist. Clarke let both of her hands rest on Lexa's collarbone, sighing again as she reveled in the closeness they shared. She remember their kiss, and struggled to repress a shudder. It had been amazing, but could it be repeated?
Suddenly, a voice sounded out, "Clarke! We've rounded up the last of the mountain men, and we've got the innocents on the second level where they'll be safe-" Abby stopped, taking in the sight of the Commander holding her daughter in her arms.
Clarke's head had risen the moment footsteps sounded on the concrete and steel floors, and stared at her mother, mouth slightly agape in surprise. "Mom, what is it?" Clarke asked, not making any plans to move from Lexa's arms. She was content, and after all of the bullshit that made up her life so far, didn't she deserve to enjoy the feeling?
"We could use help with the injured." Abby said, before sniping, "Unless you'd rather-"
The Grounder guards tensed at Abby's tone, as did the Commander, who snapped in a powerful tone, "You have no place speaking to you daughter like that, especially since she is the champion of this war. Know your place among the people of the Thirteen, Abby Griffin."
"The Thirteen?" Clarke asked gently, her palms still resting on Lexa's warm collarbone.
"Skaikru have become the thirteenth Clan, have they not? And since you are our allies, you are a member of the Twelve, making us Thirteen. Though I cannot command you like I do the Twelve." Lexa explained, "It is something that can be made official later in the month, after we all have recovered."
Clarke nodded.
Abby had been steaming, "You cannot immediately assume that we will become a part of your Twelve. We do not have to associate ourselves with your people anymore."
"Mom!" Clarke snapped, moving to confront her mother, but was held back by Lexa. Clarke let herself be enveloped by warm arms once more, calming slightly. Her mother noticed this, and her gaze became a questioning one that Clarke ignored, much to Abby's annoyance.
"Your recent Skaikru may not, but I am sure others would be willing. Remember, there are some you do not control." Lexa spoke defiantly, reminding Abby once again of how she had helped send 100 children to their potential deaths. She glanced at her daughter, and realized she definitely wasn't a child anymore. How quickly had such a change occurred? Could her daughter change back? Could someone do that for her?
"Fine, we can arrange for a meeting later in the month." Abby said gruffly, choosing to drop her questioning gaze and move on. She turned and saw only Cage's lifeless eyes, "I see you've taken care of their president."
Lexa nodded, "He was disposed of not long ago. Victory has been established and the imprisoned are being freed by my most agile of men. We must scale chasms full of cages. I will go assist with that soon."
"Should I send some people?" Abby offered, anything to show Clarke that she was trying.
Lexa shook her head, noting how Clarke pressed closer to her as she spoke, "Your people are not adept at climbing. This chasms are dangerous, and my people, Trigedakru, are the best climbers of all the Twelve."
Abby nodded, "Alright. Clarke, we could really use-"
Clarke shook her head, "I need to organize the 47. Homes are being built for all the living members in a special area. The others are receiving a special funeral."
"Their parents-"
"-Get no say. They all allowed us to go about getting murdered even after they came down. They get no say where they live, what they do and what they cannot." Clarke said firmly, the pads of her fingers pressing firmly into Lexa's collarbone.
Abby stewed in silence for a moment, thinking of what Kane would do. He would let it happen, he would attend the funeral and say his prayers. She nodded, "Alright. Be prepared to deal with resistance though, families are eager to have their children back and none are prepared to let go."
Lexa spoke up, her chest rumbling as she cleared her throat, "Visits are not a forbidden thing among any peoples, to my knowledge, Abby Griffin."
Clarke bit her lip, struggling to contain a small smile. They were in the middle of recently conquered enemy territory, with blood staining their bodies, wounds adding to the flow of red that surrounded the room, and Lexa just sassed her mother? Most amazing woman in the world.
Abby bristled, nodding in understanding before turning to walk away. She called over her shoulder, voice tinted with annoyance and anger, "I'll be helping in the medical bay."
Clarke smiled, tears of relief falling down her face as she let Lexa pull her close. The war was over, the people of the Trigedakru and Skaikru had been saved, and Lexa was holding her in her arms. Life, at that moment, felt like more than just surviving.
Bellamy had been searching high and low for Clarke in the Grounder camp outside of Mount Weather. He had wanted to actually see her for more than a passing glance as she went into post-war meetings and motivational speeches announcing various things he found far less important then her beauty. It was true, she was beautiful, even when sporting a new thin, pale scar that saddled the bridge of her fair-skinned nose.
Today, Bellamy was determined to find her. When he did, he would confess his feelings and they would be together, happy even in this world of death and pain. They would survive together. After all, hadn't they been doing just that all this time? Surely a romantic relationship wouldn't hinder their survivability together. It could only strengthen it.
An hour later, Bellamy finally laid his eyes on the object of his affection, and he smiled. Finally, he had found her, and he would make good use of his chance.
"Clarke!" Bellamy shouted, happy at finally seeing the girl after two weeks for more than a few seconds.
"Bellamy!" Clarke shouted in relief, running to meet her friend. Bellamy scooped her up into a big hug. There were barely any people in this area of the camp, not with Abby and Kane making announcements with Lexa on moving camp as soon as possible. Many Grounders wanted to go home, so any news pertaining to their families and towns was something they flocked to hear.
Bellamy spun Clarke around in her arms once, making Clarke giggle. Her giggling ceased, however, when Bellamy stopped to press his lips to Clarke's ever-soft ones.
Clarke froze, any reaction she could have given just out of the reach of her suddenly limited motor functions.
Lexa froze too.