the feedback for the first chapter has been unbelievable! i didn't expect this story to gain as much love as it did when there was only one chapter - you guys are amazing. thank you! i hope you like this one as much as the last one.

now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

The Kingdom of Polis was not a big country. It was tiny in comparison to nations like the United States of America and Russia, but no one citizen would be as proud of their country as Polisians. Either first or second or third or at least top ten in education, gender equality, scientific breakthroughs, and human rights etc., Polis had managed to set for itself a significant seat in intergovernmental organizations across the world.

And as a Polisian herself, a royal born one at that, Lexa carried the same fondness for her country like any other Polisian. They would say she was biased, but she had gone to the United Kingdom for an exchange program when she was thirteen, had a liaison program with IMPACT in the US for two years at eighteen – her form of taking advantage of the brutal exposure of her sexuality by the media – started attending diplomatic events across the world at nineteen, and literally fought in wars from twenty to twenty-five. She had learnt to be unbiased and objective; she had also learnt that these so-called giant countries were the littlest of them all.

Nevertheless, it didn't mean that there wasn't room for improvement. There always was. And since Lexa could no longer be on active duty, much to the chagrin of only herself and no one else, she would make damn sure that she could still contribute to the advancement of this nation.

She read the thirtieth file from the stack that had been sitting at the corner of her desk since this morning. She absorbed the information offered in the file. She memorized the name of the wife and the kids. She considered the condition of the soldier's death that had resulted on this family's file ending up on her table in the first place. She studied the numbers and calculations for the funds that would be needed to ensure that they would be able to live comfortably and those kids would be able to have adequate education until high school, at least.

And she placed the file among the 'Yes' pile.

"Hey, kid," her father's voice interrupted her progress as he sauntered into her office as if it wasn't her office.

"I am twenty-five," she insisted, though a smile tugged on her lips as King Richmond made himself comfortable at the coffee table, sprawled across the couch and feet perched on the edge of the coffee table. "By all means."

"Hey, I'm the king."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"What you up to?"

"What I've always been up to."

"I hope that's the 'No' pile," he said cheekily, pointing at the section that was definitely thicker than the other.

"If it makes you happier, then sure."

He didn't mean it, she knew that. When Lexa first suggested it at her first Parliament since her return, her father was the first one to give his approval. She barely got by with just a little more than the votes needed from the Parliament to get the program going, but she did it and here she was.

It probably helped that his daughter was a veteran herself. That he could have easily been one of those families who had to endure the news that his loved one had been injured on the field. That he was lucky enough to only have to visit her at the hospital and not her deathbed. That he was fortunate enough that he was the monarch and he could afford it all.

Those things didn't apply to most families out there – widows, parents, children. A lot of them could barely get by with the existing dependent indemnity compensation that the government had set up, meagre amounts that could only put enough food on the table at the expense of rental and electricity and clean water.

Just because Lexa was a princess didn't mean she forgot about those she fought with in the warzone. Just because she was fortunate enough to be born in this family didn't mean she had the privilege to forget about her people.

It was why she decided to involve herself in the Veterans' Agency and the Defense Department on a level where she would be able to help as much as she could without interfering with official politics. It was why she was so adamant to set up this program that could help in propelling surviving families of fallen soldiers to a brighter future than the one the government had promised.

"I've been talking to Gus," Richmond finally said, so lackadaisical that Lexa almost thought it was just something he wanted to bring up.

The brunette contemplated the statement, not really studying the file laid open on her desk. Her forefinger played with the edge of a page, curling it and uncurling it, placing a permanent mark on the flimsy material. A sigh escaped at the realization that there would be no further work done until this conversation was dealt with.

In all honesty, she had expected this to come. It had been six months since her return, three since her discharge, and one since her family took notice of her late night patterns. Honestly, she was rather surprised that it had taken them this long to even try this with her.

"You drew the short straw, huh?"

She poured a glass of bourbon and a glass of red wine from the bar, handing the bourbon to her father as she approached the coffee table and took a seat in the armchair.

"I always want to talk to my daughter."

"Not things like this," she said.

He blanched in guilt, finding the red of his wine all the more interesting. She never wanted this conversation. If possible, she would rather they just let her be, give her time, allow her the pace she had set for herself.

"Honey, you're aware that you are…the fifth most important person in this country," he started, gentle and wary.

"Wow."

The look he sent her was afflicted and unimpressed, quietly scolding her for not even letting up a step. "I haven't told your mother." She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to offer any word. "But I will if you keep it up."

And there it was. She chuckled and shook her head to herself, taking menial sips from her glass.

As she stared down at the liquid swirling around in the glass, she wondered if there would ever be a time where the paparazzi find her at an AA meeting or drunk off her ass on the streets. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she didn't have to think about it and feel guilty. She wondered if the guilt would ever go away.

Her father heaved a sigh. "You know, I delayed a meeting with the Minister of Agriculture to have this conversation with you."

"No one asked –"

"The least you could do is give me an indication that you're listening to me," he snapped.

Lexa didn't dare to look at her father, not when he employed that tone of his, peeved and tense. In all her life, she could count on one hand the number of times the king had been impatient and employed that tone at her, because Richmond Woods was born unflappable and fortitudinous. He took everything one step at a time, always prepared for the situations that couldn't be prepared for.

Of all the monarchs, King Richmond II was the favorite, either in the Parliament, the Council, or the people. The steps he had taken with the country far surpassed the democracy his ancestors built; the way he worked with the executive, legislative, and judicial structures were so smooth that there was word that it would be added as a constitutional amendment for easier work in the future.

Richmond studied his squirming daughter and grunted soundlessly as he clenched his jaw. "Sorry, I'm not –"

The giant hands that had been the one to cut her cord seemed so small now as they clenched on the arm of the couch he was sitting on.

"Kid, you were this big when I held you for the first time – all seven pounds and six ounces." He made a cradling shape with an arm and gestured at it. "You cried for two minutes and then you stopped, and that was the loudest you have ever been for the first two decades of your life." His lips twitched into a vague smile. "I remember being so afraid that you would never…be present," he struggled. "I'd heard so many stories about the youngest always being the loudest and demanding, but you'd never asked anything from your mother and me. You are there, but you're also quiet. You build little houses for stray puppies. You ride horses with your brother and sister. Your sister asks for a road trip to India and you ask for the latest copy of whatever journal that's caught your interest."

"Planetary and Space Science is not 'whatever'," she pointed out.

He slapped the arm gently and then shoved a hand in her direction, like his point was just made. "Your mother and I were just waiting, you know, waiting for the day when you would be loud. And then you turned eighteen and you went even quieter when the whole world found out about your sexuality. And we thought that's probably just you. You are just the rarest youngest kid."

As he drifted off, his eyes only shone at her with so much adoration that she almost couldn't take it. It would be better if he could stop doing that. Or just leave and pretend this conversation never happened.

"But then you came into my office and practically summoned your mother and told us that you enlisted – that's when we figured out that you've never been quiet. You just pick your moments to be loud." There was a pause, and then he said, "You went away. You became the Commander by your own merits. That's the loudest you've ever been. And then you came back. And you made not a peep." His voice broke at the last word.

She eyed the thing leaning against her desk, so offensive in its presence yet so essential to her newfound daily life.

"I don't know, kid. Sometimes, I wonder if you'd be better back in Libya."

And those were the words that made her start wondering the same thing. Back in Libya, with cane and a trustworthy weapon and her comrades and the being far too busy to have nightmares and pretty blonde doctors – and without a cane.

Unlike the past countless nights when she had done the same thing, her parents sleeping in the room two hallways down niggled in her mind as she dressed herself in her coat and jeans and sweater.

Her father going to sleep knowing in the back of his mind that his daughter might do it again tonight as she tied her hair into a ponytail. Him keeping this a secret from his wife of thirty-five years as she pulled on a cap. The blatant ignorance she was displaying to his quiet plea before he left her study as she slipped out her bedroom, down the stairs, passed the winding hallways, through the kitchen, and out the backdoor.

She cursed when her alerted senses – thanks to the recurring nightmare that had woken her up in the first place and spurred her to get the hell out of the palace come hell or high water – drew her attention to Gus sitting on a stool by the backdoor, dressed in appropriate jacket and jeans and cap as well.

"Go home," she said.

He was just quiet as he stood up and zipped up his jacket. And then he just stared at her in anticipation, ready to go when she was.

"Why can't you be this quiet when my dad was asking you for gossip?"

The clench of his jaw was the only indication of his displeasure at her choice of words. Apart from that, Gustus remained mum, hands clasped behind his back and waiting for his charge to get up to her nightly activities.

"I tried," she said, not finding it odd at all that she had to explain herself to her bodyguard since she was six and learned how to climb trees in the courtyard. "For two hours, I tried."

With some sneaking and climbing and absolutely no more words exchanged between them, they were out of the castle and well into the city, reaching her favorite park – one that she came across during one of the initial nights of sneaking out. It was then that Gustus started keeping his distance from her, like he knew that she needed it without even asking.

She would have asked him, really. But asking him would be admitting that she had a problem, and Lexa did not have a problem. Therefore, she kept it to herself – the mortar rounds that flew over her head and in her dreams, the explosions that followed her from the Libyan grounds back to the palace, the cries of comrades that did nothing with bring more and more guilt that ensconced themselves into the very essence of her thoughts.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see them, hear them, feel them. The stiffness in her left leg and the constant reminder of her disability in the form of the cane weren't much help either. So she got out of bed and she sneaked out the backdoor and she came to this park.

"Oh my god."

Lexa was struck out of her thoughts of kicking the cane with her bum leg. She looked at the direction of the voice and could only repeat, "Oh my god."

The pretty blonde doctor. The reason she got to keep her leg. The woman who managed to charm the youngest princess with her honesty and genuine laughter. The one thing that Lexa had restricted herself to think about only before bedtime because otherwise, she would never get anything done. That person, that Clarke, was sitting on a bench just a few feet away and gaping at Lexa like she'd just seen a ghost.

A long, long pause settled between them, carried and dropped by passing birds, swishing with the leaves, and embracing them like an old friend. They took stock of one another, unable to look away. Green met blue despite the dimness of the night. And Lexa couldn't help but wonder if she could write another letter to truly feel out everything that was expanding everywhere at the sight of the blonde.

"This is so not fair," Clarke grumbled, and then groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

"Pardon?" Lexa asked while squaring away the fact that the blonde was too damn cute doing that.

The blonde removed her hands from her face and threw one in the general direction of the princess with a complete look of disdain. "It's not fair that you manage to look great no matter the situation."

Lexa cocked a brow when the words washed over in its completely unshielded meaning. The pride that rose in her – something she had only experienced twice; when she successfully asked Costia out and when she was promoted as Commander – was inevitable. She stopped herself from puffing a chest and crossing her arms and brushing her hair.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

Clarke folded all her fingers back until a pointer finger was swirling in the air, still directed at the brunette. "That."

"What?" Lexa asked, shrugging unknowingly, feeling a little too accused right now.

"Just don't look at me."

"Excuse me, I'm just trying to take a walk here."

The doctor went quiet for a bit, and they just kept staring at each other. And then the blonde began to portray a sideways smile, gentle and curious, and Lexa was suddenly thrown back to six months ago when she woke up in a hospital bed and heard a pretty blonde doctor addressing her as 'Your Highness'.

It was one of the best wake-up experiences that Lexa had ever had, despite the fading morphine and the ache in her left leg and the dryness in the back of her throat. Of course, she never told anyone that. Some things were better kept to herself.

"What are you doing wandering out here in Philly Park all alone, Your Highness?" Clarke asked.

Lexa rolled her eyes and shoved her hands in her pockets as she turned to face the blonde directly. "What did I tell you?"

"Oh, that still applies here?" Clarke seemed genuinely flummoxed at the aspect.

"It applies to whomever I make that request to, wherever and whenever."

Clarke nodded and then tried again, "What are you doing wandering out here in Philly Park all alone, Lexa?"

The veteran hid a smile at the sound her name escaping the blonde's name. That one rasp seemed enough to have her drop her walls and tell the doctor everything, but she had enough common sense to know that it was too early to confide in Clarke, even if she found the doctor to be utterly disarming with her natural poise.

She looked in the direction where Gustus was supposed to be at, and he had seemed to decide that the bench just few yards away was a perfect place to give them some bit of privacy. No doubt, he must have recognized the doctor – he hadn't been able to keep that teasing smile away for two weeks straight since she woke up to her brother's face and asked about Clarke. "

She turned back to the blonde and asked, "Mind if I sit?" One hand motioned at the empty space next to Clarke on the bench. Clarke nodded and Lexa made herself comfortable. "So you think I look great no matter what, huh?"

"You know what, I do mind that you sit. Get up. Stop sitting. It's my space."

Lexa laughed when Clarke mock shoved her in weak attempts to get her to stand up. "Hey, show some respect!" she mockingly demanded, tapping the stone ground with the cane, which of course got Clarke's attention.

As the doctor assessed the cane and then the leg she saved, Lexa almost wished the blonde would keep pushing her again, if only to avoid the conversation to come. Even though it was dark, with a crescent moon barely offering any illumination as a result of the clouds' interjection, Lexa could still the guilt slowly taking over the mischievous expression that had been on the blonde's face.

"I'm only using this cane because of you." The second she said it, Lexa knew it wasn't the right way to say it, which was only made worse when Clarke's face pretty much crumpled. Before it would descend into a worse state, Lexa quickly saved, "I mean, I wouldn't have a leg at all to need a cane if it wasn't for you!" she exclaimed.

It obviously didn't help. Lexa wasn't a doctor, but anyone who was trying to achieve something would be understandably disappointed to find that their efforts didn't pan out. Plus, normally, Lexa wouldn't care about how a doctor would feel about their failed efforts, but there was something about disappointing Clarke that made it feel impossible.

She felt like she didn't ever want to be the one to make Clarke feel any less than what Lexa had felt that night in the hospital room. It was ridiculous; made absolutely no sense; yet the brunette adhered to it like it was her only obligation for the night, though she definitely didn't plan on running into the pretty blonde doctor when she sneaked out of the palace tonight.

"I've wondered about you, you know," Clarke stated, seemingly unable to keep her eyes away from the leg in question.

Lexa curbed away the delight at the idea of Clarke wondering about her. "Can you please stop looking at it?"

"I can't."

"Clarke."

"Your Highness."

"Clarke."

"Lexa."

"Did you get my letter?"

Of course, that would be what got Clarke to look away from the leg and back at the princess again. She didn't answer, but the blush that rose from her neck to her cheeks were rather telling.

"I hope you did. The Princess of Polis doesn't just write letters to anyone."

Clarke huffed, crossing her arms. "You can either be Lexa or the princess with me. You can't be both," she set the ultimatum.

The brunette blinked, slightly taken aback by the blonde's brazenness to even dare to give her an ultimatum. The only person's ultimatum that Lexa had obeyed was her mother's, and she didn't even bother with the last ultimatum the woman gave.

Still, the doctor was right. Her current train of thought was partially due to her accustomedness as a princess, a royalty, someone that everyone feared before they even had any real reason to – that was, until a thirteen-year-old Lexa had decided that the son of the Collins senator from the US was an annoying son of a bitch and she challenged him to a swordfight and pretty much almost put him in a hospital. They weren't even using real swords, but that little challenge and her rare display of blatant irritation had been enough to drive everyone at the edge of careful and fearful around her.

She didn't want to be two people with Clarke, that was one thing she knew for sure among other things that she didn't. The blonde had seen her at her weakest, could have used it as material for short-term popularity, but for six months, she had kept quiet about her venture into rescuing the princess, even when she had been back for one month already.

"I'll be Lexa, then," the princess decided, softly but certainly.

Clarke shot her a quizzical look, almost unnerved by the fact that Lexa had just relented to a commoner like her. And then she smiled, saying, "Good." She pulled up her knees so she could wrap her arms around them on the bench. "I still have it – the letter," she added.

The brunette kept her eyes on the doctor, but Clarke refused to look at her, choosing instead to stare at the untied laces of her sneakers. Lexa deposited her cane beside her on the bench before moving to kneel in front of the blonde while ignoring the bolts shooting up her bones with each miniature movement.

"Lexa, what –" Clarke stopped mid-breath as she watched Lexa doing her shoelaces.

"So we meet again." Lexa moved to the other sneaker, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her lips as the chant her father taught her echoed in her mind.

"Yeah, we do."

Lexa stifled a groan as she straightened up to retake the seat she had vacated just now. "I don't know about you, but I think that's fate," she said cheekily, throwing the blonde a smirk.

"Is it?"

A hum of affirmation was released into the chilly night, heard only by the two of them and ignored by the hulking figure on the next bench. "Totally."

Clarke threw her head back with a sigh that sounded mockingly dejected, and then she turned to Lexa with a quizzical quirk to her lips, mischievous and anticipatory. In the face of this blonde personification of everything that Lexa would never have expected in her wildest dreams, Lexa was suddenly at a loss for a proper reaction.

"And what shall we do with this fate thing?" Clarke asked.

Lexa sucked in a deep breath, casting another look at her childhood bodyguard who was smoking a stick of cigarette where he was. She made a note to have a good talk with him about that particular bad habit before standing up and steadying herself with the cane while crooking an arm for Clarke.

"I think you should let me walk you home. It's unbecoming for young talented lady like yourself to be out here alone."

There was a scoff, as expected. But Clarke played along anyway and placed a hand on the crook. Lexa tugged it closer to her body before they started walking down the direction that Clarke had pointed to.

"And then you can tell me all about how unfair you think it is that I look great no matter the circumstances."

"Lexa!"

It was almost three hours since Lexa slipped out that she finally made her way back to the backdoor of the palace. At the approaching hours of dawn, she could already hear some staff making noises in the courtyard, the stables, and the garages. She reminded herself to talk to her father about giving their hardworking staff a raise, if not a break.

Which, speaking of the devil – she pointed a finger behind her. "You need to let him sleep," she announced, shouldering past the patriarch of the kingdom into the kitchen.

Richmond snorted, following his daughter into the kitchen and nodding when she gave him a questioning look. She started the coffee machine and sat across from him at the island, watching as Gustus finally walked away back to his home for a few hours of sleep before the routine repeated itself.

"You need to let him sleep," the king retorted.

"Hey, I could have easily just gone out on my own and I'd be fine."

Her father rolled his eyes. "There's no way I'm letting my princess daughter wander out alone in the middle of the night just because she refuses to talk to her family."

"Did you forget I was also a high ranking member of the military? I have the medal and all that shit."

"Only because you're my daughter."

Lexa exhaled a gasp that lasted longer than a gasp should. She glared at her father and ignored the beeping noise of the coffee machine that indicated the completion of its process. Pointing a finger at him, she demanded, "You take that back right now, Richmond Woods the Second."

He shook his head, sliding off his stool to pour the coffee. "My daughter just full-named me. Children these days are so insolent," he muttered. The next few seconds were spent ingesting caffeine, both of them well aware that they would not be going back to sleep for the next twenty hours or so. "Have you thought about what I said?"

"I met a girl." It probably wasn't the best way to change the subject, but she was willing to indulge her family's creepy investment in her relationships in favor of not talking about her inability to sleep properly.

"You're awful."

Lexa smirked, knowing full well why her father looked so uncertain. There was a silent competition between him and his wife – something about being the first to know about anything related to their children gave them great sense of joy; it was something they loved to boast about during special days like birthdays and Christmas, and none of the children, for the life of them, could understand why.

Right now, he was probably struggling between jumping for joy at being the first to know that Lexa had met a girl and keep talking about his concerns for his daughter. She hoped that the news she had given him was powerful enough to deviate him from their original subject, at least for a little while.

"Did you really meet a girl when you're out in the middle of the night?"

Lexa thought about the question, recalling the surprise and the disbelief and the utter joy at seeing the pretty blonde doctor again. The easygoingness between them hadn't dissipated even though six months had passed. In the back of her mind, she could still bring about the image of Clarke's smile and the blue of her eyes and the mischievousness that seemed to accompany her whenever she was relaxed enough.

Her elbow tingled from the touch that had stayed there for the half hour it took for Lexa to walk the blonde home. She resisted the urge to look at the space, knowing it would be ridiculous to look for handprints on the material of her wool jacket. She recalled the reluctance they both displayed when they reached the bottom of the apartment building.

And Lexa made sure to find out if Silver Hill was still Clarke's choice of employment place.

"She's a doctor," Lexa decided.

so? what do you think? leave me a lot of comments :)