Bellamy was dead.
His body arrived with riders about two weeks after Clarke had returned to Polis with a handwritten message from Lexa.
It was brief and ended with a promise of the full story upon her return. So this is what Clarke knew: he died well. Not as a coward, not as a traitor, and he would be recognized by all of their people, across all clans, as a hero.
His death didn't surprise her. She went numb when she read the message, but it was as if she'd been waiting for it. Waiting for someone to tell her that he was gone. She'd felt it when she watched him disappear into the crowd, his back to her with the Ark insignia on his jacket. She knew it in that moment, but couldn't bring herself to admit it. She'd latched onto anger instead. Refocused all her attention onto protecting their people and staving off war.
It didn't come as a shock, yet her heart was broken all the same when she pulled back the shroud back to see his face. It was him and yet not him at all. Bellamy was long gone. She shed tears for him and grieved with a devastated Raven at her side. Having to make that call to Octavia was just about one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.
But even in her grief for the person who had been there for her in some of her darkest hours, who she'd relied on, trusted, and loved, there was a part of her that somehow pushed through the pain of loss to feel pride and even a strange sort of happiness. She was so proud and grateful that Bellamy had left this world as the good man she knew he was.
It was a long, somber journey back Arkadia where Clarke led a procession with Bellamy's body being transported by cart behind her. She knew she needed to bring his body back to their people, back to his sister, so that he could be laid in the ground Skaikru now called home.
She always knew she was going to bring Bellamy home, but she didn't want to believe it would be like this.
It should never have been like this.
Octavia joined the cavalcade on horseback about a mile before they reached the gates of Arkadia. She spoke to no one. Instead, she simply came up alongside the lumbering cart that she knew held him, slowed her horse to a walk, and rode alongside her brother one last time.
The Sky People mourned him terribly. His funeral was attended by every single one of their people. Stories of Bellamy's heroic actions since arriving on the Ground when he wasn't even one of the condemned 100 spread like wildfire. The boy who risked everything to save his sister. The man who sacrificed his life to save his people.
Witnessing Octavia's grief was the worst part. She was stoic at his funeral, but Clarke came upon her at his grave the next day. She'd stayed back and left as quickly as she came, not wanting to disturb her grieving. The image of Octavia sobbing with her fingers buried in the freshly dug earth was one she would never forget. It was seared across her heart like another scar.
Octavia never even got to say goodbye. Clarke wanted to rail against the injustice of the universe. Why was she the one who got to see him that last time? Why was she the one who had a chance to say goodbye, to see even a hint of what he had become and what he might have been? Why was she given that privilege while his own sister would now be forced to live with the knowledge that her brother died believing that she had abandoned him?
Clarke had a chance to tell Bellamy the truth. She could have told him before he left that Octavia was imprisoned by Pike and that it was the only reason why his sister wasn't there. It tore her up inside, day after day, as she remained in Arkadia after his funeral. Then, finally, she couldn't bear it any longer. Octavia deserved to know the truth and Clarke deserved whatever punishment she had to give.
It was late in the day when she went to Octavia's room and knocked, her heart thudded in a way that made her feel like she was a hollow piece of wood and someone was pounding against her chest with their bare hands.
But Octavia wasn't there.
She wasn't anywhere in Arkadia.
Clarke had to ask four different people before someone could finally give her an answer.
"Check her camp," Monty said.
"Her camp?"
"Yeah, she hates being inside. She and Lincoln set up their own place outside the walls a while ago. Kane wasn't happy about it cause of the danger being exposed and all, but she wouldn't hear a word of it."
Clarke snorted. Yeah, that definitely sounded like Octavia.
"Where is it?"
Their site was at the edge of the forest. She could see Lincoln sitting in front of a firepit, cooking something that smelled pretty damn good. The sun was getting lower in the sky. Clarke walked toward him, but froze at the voice behind her.
"What do you want?"
Slowly, she turned around to see Octavia with her sword in hand. She looked particularly testy tonight.
"I..." She shook off the nerves in her voice and tried again, stronger this time. "I need to talk to you."
"I'm not in the mood." Octavia sheathed the sword behind her back. "And be careful, okay? You set off a bunch of our warning systems."
Frowning, Clarke glanced back at the path she'd taken, but saw nothing there. She'd heard nothing in her approach either. They had warning triggers set up around camp and she never noticed a thing? Groaning inwardly, she knew that was something was going to have to ask Lexa to teach her more about.
"Oh. Uh. Sorry?"
Octavia sighed and just waved her forward. They walked in silence towards Lincoln who raised his eyes and smiled when he saw them.
"Dinner's almost ready," he said.
"I had to reset three of them because of Clarke."
"She proved they work well." He shrugged, winking at Clarke.
Octavia wasn't amused and Clarke had to admit that she was of the same mind. She wasn't in the mood for teasing or even talking tonight. But she had to be. She'd held onto this for too long already.
"Hungry?" Lincoln asked.
She shook her head, but sat down across from him by the campfire. Her obvious discomfort had Lincoln and Octavia exchange a look, but Octavia plopped herself down as well. Looking around, Clarke took in where they were, nestled just at the edge of the forest on the opposite side of a ridge that shielded them from being easily seen.
"How have I been here for over a week and not known that you're living out here?"
"Your powers of observation are slipping?"
She didn't rise to the bait. "You still have an assigned room in Arkadia."
Octavia rolled her eyes. "I told them to give it away, but Lincoln's been using it sometimes."
"It's convenient when I'm working long hours with the Council," he explained. "Get some rest. Close my eyes for 30 minutes."
"You've been working too hard lately." Octavia shook her head.
"It's for a good cause," he said with a reassuring smile. "It won't be this way forever."
Octavia shook her head again, but didn't say anything else and wouldn't meet either of their gazes.
"Lincoln..." Clarke started, her hands trembled slightly as she spoke so she laced them together tightly. "Could we have a moment?"
"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him," Octavia said sharply.
Clarke looked between them anxiously. She didn't expect Lincoln to be a party to this as well. Quickly, she tried to think of a plausible explanation for why she needed to do this alone with Octavia, but nothing was coming to mind. She couldn't bear to have to do this in front of Lincoln too. Octavia's rage would be more than enough without having to watch Lincoln comfort her and once again show Clarke the pain she brought on her people.
Lincoln seemed to pick up on Clarke's desperation. He took the meat off the spit and placed it carefully to the side to rest.
"I'll go get more wood for the fire."
There was a very large pile of split wood next to their tent that made it obvious he needed to do no such thing.
"No, you stay here. She doesn't get to dictate everything we do."
"Octavia..." he murmured, "En's ku. I'll be back in a few minutes."
She glared up at him as he got to his feet, brushing himself off, but he only looked back with a soft, knowing expression. Before he walked away, he nodded at Clarke who took a deep breath and tried to wordlessly communicate her appreciation to him.
"Fine. You got rid of him. What is it? If it's about me joining the Council, I swear I'll-"
"It has nothing to do with that and I've already talked to my Mom and the others about leaving you alone. They'll stop hounding you to join the Council, I promise."
She blew out a breath and nodded, seeming to relax slightly under that news. "Okay...then what do you want? What's so important you had to come out here?"
"Bellamy."
Octavia's sharp edges and sheer bravado crumbled at hearing her brother's name. Tears appeared in her eyes before she blinked them back fiercely.
"I need to tell you what happened the last time I saw him."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I thought you did tell me what happened."
"Not everything."
Octavia sat silently, stiff as a board, as Clarke recounted her last moments with Bellamy, admitting how she'd chosen to lie to him, pretended that she didn't know why Octavia wasn't there. How it was because of Clarke that he left thinking his sister couldn't be bothered to show up for him. How he died without knowing the truth.
She expected fury, fists, a new wave of pain as Octavia let loose on her for destroying her last moments with her brother. For making a choice she didn't have a right to make.
But that didn't happen.
When Clarke finished, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for the oncoming storm. But long seconds ticked away where there was nothing but silence. She couldn't bring herself to look away from the fire, even with her confusion growing as the silence stretched on. Quiet chirping floated on the breeze, trees and bushes rustled quietly with it. The sun had set and the two of them sat in twilight with the strongest light from the glowing flames in front of them.
"Thank you for not telling him."
Clarke's heart jumped into her throat. Her head snapped up and she stared at her with wide eyes. Octavia wiped away the tears on her cheeks, unaware, or perhaps uncaring of, Clarke's shock.
"He would have come back to Arkadia. He would have tried to help us, to protect me, and...it would have made things worse. If he didn't get killed here, he would have been hunted for breaking the law again. No matter which way you put it, he would have died. At least this way...this way he was able to do right by everyone. He..." She stopped with wet eyes and emotion strangling her voice. Then finally she just shook her head and met her gaze. "It's not your fault, Clarke."
And instead of the torrent of anger and subsequent tears she expected from Octavia, it was Clarke who wept, and Octavia was there to comfort her.
"Heda!" Indra's sharp voice invaded her thoughts. She shook her head imperceptibly as though to dispel the trance she'd been in. "The horses are tiring. They need water and rest or they will collapse."
Annoyed, Lexa pulled her steed back from his canter and put him to a walk. Indra was greatly relieved to be able to slow down as well.
"We are but a day's ride from Polis. We can continue for a couple more hours before breaking camp for the night."
But Indra was already shaking her head. "Biyo moba, Heda, but we do not have that long and it will take longer than a day to reach Polis yet."
Lexa was suddenly filled with the urge to knock the woman off her horse with a single blow, but she quickly pulled herself back from the brink. Indra certainly didn't deserve her ire. Not because Lexa was so fixated on returning to Clarke that she didn't want to acknowledge that she was driving her people and their horses into the ground before they reached home. Her steed shuddered beneath her and she finally allowed herself to hear the unnaturally harsh, shallow breathing. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew Indra was right. Looking back at her retinue, she saw a multitude of weary faces staring back at her, horses foaming at their bits with sweat dripping down their sides. Guilt kicked in. She was not acting as their leader, she was acting like a lovesick fool. She knew better than this.
With a stone in the pit of her stomach, she raised her hand in the air to signal the all stop.
With a nod at Indra, she said loudly, "We break here tonight. The river is close enough. Tend to your horses and get some rest. We leave at dawn."
Indra exhaled with relief and turned back to the others, barking orders for them to organize and set up camp. Her voice faded to silence as Lexa stared longingly at the open path ahead of them.
Polis was so close she could almost smell the city air again. So close and yet forced to wait out another lonely night. She wanted nothing more than to take off at a gallop and ride without pause until she was through the city gates once more.
It'd been a hard, long, cold five months, but she left the Ice Nation victorious and somewhat optimistic about the future for Azgeda in the Coalition.
The campaign had taken longer than expected, and they were not without their casualties, but the infant was recovered alive, the Elders were finally eliminated. A new Queen reigned over Azgeda, one that bowed to Heda kom Jus and took the brand. The war Lexa so firmly believed she'd thrown them into didn't happen. If nothing else, she'd held them back from the brink for a time. She was satisfied with knowing that much. All in all, the mission was a success.
The journey back was agonizingly slow and filled with weeks of hard riding. Lexa pushed her entire cavalcade to get back to Polis as soon as possible. She thought of riding straight for Arkadia to see Clarke instead of stopping in Polis first, but duty called. She had greater responsibilities waiting for her in Polis and Clarke...well, she knew Clarke was still alive from a scout's information delivered a few days before they left the north. In his report, he announced that Wanheda was safe and Skaikru was still the 13 th clan, honoring their allegiance to the Coalition.
She hadn't been in contact with Clarke at all aside from that news and the letter she'd hastily written about Bellamy's death.
The months without her had been agonizing and the loneliness reached near levels of unbearable. The nights were the worst where every sneaking doubt and fear came creeping in, sitting low in her belly, spreading sickness through her body at the thought of the unthinkable.
But now she knew and took solace in it.
Clarke was alive. That was all she needed to know. Finally, Lexa forced herself to turn her head away from the open path before her and dropped down from her horse, letting someone else take him for a cool down. Just one more day. They would be in Polis by nightfall tomorrow if they rode swiftly enough. Then she would make her way to Arkadia.
Wait for me.
Eli and Heykin fussed around her as she entered her suite again for the first time in months. She breathed in deeply, letting the familiar scents and surroundings enter her weary and sore body. The weather had grown cooler in Polis since the sweltering heat they stood in when she and Clarke didn't say their goodbyes. Despite the cooler air, it was, by far, a welcome change from the bitter cold that had started to seep into her bones with every passing day she remained in Azgeda. It was after midnight and Lexa was exhausted, but she'd pushed the whole riding party to keep going past dark. Polis was too close for her to be able to bear to stop at that point.
"Heda, we have a bath drawn-"
Lexa held up a hand to silence him. Her eyes were drawn to the closed door of Clarke's room. It was never closed unless someone was using it. She strode past her attendants without sparing them a glance. Covered in dirt and grime, smelling like days of unwashed sweat and horses, she couldn't care less. They told her at the gate that Wanheda was here.
Clarke was in Polis.
Not Arkadia.
She came back.
Lexa opened the door quietly, slipping in. The room was pitch dark and there was sharp, foreign scent in the air that she couldn't place, but she knew she smelled it before around metal. Heavy and unpleasant. It reminded her of when she had gone inside the Skaikru ship, climbing that ladder to witness Lincoln's fate for herself.
That didn't matter.
Clarke was burrowed under the furs in a lump. Lexa's heart was in her throat as she approached the bed, desperately wishing there were some candles burning or a window open so that the stars could give her enough light to see. It'd been too long since they'd last touched.
Suddenly hit with a plague of insecurity, Lexa didn't know if she should wake Clarke after all.
But she was here, right?
Things couldn't have changed that much if she was here.
And yet so much had changed.
Lexa seated herself carefully on the edge of the bed and slipped her hand underneath the blankets to find Clarke's back. She'd no sooner come into contact with warm skin when she heard a voice that froze every inch of her.
"Get your fucking hand off me or I'll cut it off."
Lexa jumped off the bed as if it were on fire.
A dark head of hair popped out from underneath the blankets and the stranger turned over. Lexa's eyes had adjusted enough to see the outline of a girl that was definitely not Clarke. And this girl was brandishing a dagger.
Raven.
"If you weren't looking for Clarke, you better pray to whatever God you have right now that I don't put this thing in your chest."
Lexa was stunned to silence.
When Raven didn't get a reply, she huffed. "Of course. No need to apologize for creeping on me in the middle of the night while I was sleeping." She waved the dagger towards the door dismissively. "She's in the room with the crazy headboard."
Not having the slightest clue as to what else to do, how to process this, or even understand why Raven was in Polis, Lexa turned on her heel and walked out. She couldn't think of anything else right now. Just one person.
"You might want to hose yourself off first," Raven called out. "You reek of horse shit."
Okay, so that gave her a moment's pause.
Lexa had her hand on the doorknob to her room where she knew for certain now that Clarke would be, but instead of turning it, she looked back at Heykin and Eli. They were still waiting despite how she'd ignored them before. With a single nod, she wordlessly told them to lead the way to the bath.
Lexa laid carefully on the bed next to her sleeping form. She couldn't bring herself to touch her just yet, needing to soak her in, listen to her breathing, feel the peacefulness of her slumber and absorb it as her own. This beautiful creature with golden hair splayed out on the pillow. Her eyelashes long and dark against her fair skin. Lexa could hardly breathe. It was all just...quiet again. Perfect. Still. While her heart had been racing for five months, it was here that it finally stilled. Here in their soft, candle lit room with Clarke soundly asleep beneath the furs in their bed, safe and warm, with her again.
She was actually surprised at the candles, not as many as she would have liked, but Clarke had made a few comments about Lexa needing to "sleep with the sun in her eyes". That was an exaggeration, of course, but Clarke said she slept better in complete darkness. Lexa had tried it, but within an hour of restless fidgeting and flopping around, they realized that while Clarke couldn't have too much light to sleep, Lexa didn't like to sleep in the pitch black either. So they compromised by cutting down on the number of candles lit. She wondered why Clarke didn't just extinguish them all while she was gone so she could sleep just the way she liked. Whatever the reason, she appreciated it immensely because it would have unbearably cruel not to be able to see her right now.
She must have moved too quickly or breathed too loudly because Clarke stirred, a sleepy noise from the back of her throat as her eyelashes fluttered. Her eyes blinked open slowly, foggy and unfocused, but when she locked onto Lexa who laid facing her, mere inches away, the sleep-haze disappeared at once. She didn't so much as breathe.
It was a long beat before she finally spoke, her voice husky and scratchy with sleep in a way that made Lexa want to cry with relief or pin her into the mattress, probably both.
"Are you really here?"
Lexa knew what she meant.
Am I dreaming?
Will I wake to an empty, cold bed again?
Will this morph into another nightmare where I watch terrible things happen to us?
And not knowing which you'd prefer. Each one hurt enough.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Clarke's breath hitched as Lexa crossed the small space between them and kissed her. The soft touch of their lips was a jolt to her entire system and the tiniest whimper escaped her.
As she parted Clarke's mouth with her own, deep and slow, she made sure to remind them both of exactly what it is they had been so long deprived of. Everything that couldn't be expressed aloud.
Clarke nearly wept with joy, breathing into Lexa's touch, cupping her face in her hands as she kissed her. She was solid and warm and, god, she was real. Clarke found herself unraveling with sheer relief.
She was here. After so many weeks apart...finally...god...finally she was here again.
To feel Lexa's lips on hers again, to be able to taste her like this, to feel her soft mouth fit against hers in the most achingly wonderful way... Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa's neck and pulled her to shift on top of her.
Lexa's long, elegant fingers ran up Clarke's sides until she was gently easing down the straps of her nightgown. Clarke could only kiss harder in response, needy and breathless. They hadn't seen each other for months, hadn't touched each other, talked, or even written in communication. It'd been utter agony to go from being so tightly tethered to nothing at all. The brutality of their forced separation and isolation from each other was as shocking as it was painful. Clarke didn't know how bad it was until this very moment where she wanted to sob at having Lexa with her again.
As Lexa pushed down the nightgown, her breasts bared between them, Clarke was surprised to feel a slight pull of shyness. To be utterly naked like this with her again produced a flutter of nerves fidgeting beneath her skin, flipping her stomach. She chided herself for being so ridiculous.
It was Lexa.
Lexa, who had seen her in all manner of undress, and witnessed every vulnerable aspect that Clarke could possibly imagine.
Even so, she seemed to understand what Clarke was feeling. Was it the same for her? She didn't say, but she smiled reassuringly. It was that same sweet and slightly mischievous smile that made Clarke's heart melt every time without fail. Lexa dropped a kiss at the dip in Clarke's throat and she took a deep breath before smiling right along with her. It was nerve-wracking to be suddenly naked before this incredibly beautiful woman again, but it was the good kind. The kind that made you feel alive and grateful to be able to feel it. Grateful to have someone that could make you feel as incredible as this.
As she smiled, Clarke could feel the tension fading from her body. It seemed to have a similar effect on Lexa, allowing them to melt into each other once more. She lifted her head to kiss her, but Lexa held back slightly, meeting her eyes with such soft intensity that it took her breath away. She'd almost forgotten how Lexa could do that to her.
Almost.
"Where?" she asked quietly.
Clarke didn't need to ask what she meant. It didn't even surprise her, actually. She simply took Lexa's hand and led it down to that place under her breast where the bullet wound had scarred over. Lexa ran her fingertips over the circular welt of raised skin, still freshly healed, and said nothing. Goosebumps raised along her skin at the sure and soft touch. Her heart was racing to have Lexa touching her like this again, to have her fingers skimming the wound that had nearly parted them in this life.
"Who told you?"
"Aden was at the gate when we arrived. He offered his life as penance for allowing you to be injured."
"He saved me," she said softly. "The bullet went through him and into me. If he hadn't jumped between us, I would have... It was a close call. Took years off my mom's life."
Lexa swallowed thickly and Clarke palmed her cheek reassuringly.
"I'm still here."
Lexa smiled a little at that and turned her face into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. She shifted and slid a little lower down Clarke's body until her lips were ghosting over the healed wound, making Clarke shiver. Threading her fingers in Lexa's damp hair, she watched her trace and kiss the small mark in a heartrending fascination. Her chest filled with warmth, spilling over so completely, emotion clogging her throat. It was as though she hadn't truly been healed until this very moment, until she had Lexa's blessing over her scar, worshiping, adoring, and so thankful.
The dead don't have scars. Only the living.
"How something so small can be so dangerous," Lexa murmured, echoing one of the youngblood's words that day during Clarke's demonstration. She paused for a moment, her throat bobbing. "Clarke, I'm truly sorry about Be-"
"Not tonight," she cut her off quickly in whisper, shaking her head.
She couldn't bear to have this moment tainted. Tonight, they were with each other again. They were safe. They could hold each other. The rest of the world with its seemingly endless conflict and misery could wait until tomorrow. This night belonged to them and nothing else mattered.
Lowering her chin respectfully, Lexa didn't say another word about it, but her face said it for her.
Clarke gently pulled her upwards, seeking her lips again. She peeled away Lexa's dressing gown, leaving them both nude and gasping at the intimacy of skin to skin, a riot of sensations that had been so long denied them.
"You came home."
"You were here waiting for me."
Lexa laved gentle kisses along Clarke's shoulder, nuzzling the bare skin there. It was a balm to her weary soul and warmed her from the outside in.
Her body reacted more instinctively to Lexa than anything else she'd ever known. The delicious weight on top of her. The way every nerve felt like it'd been set ablaze after an eternity lying dormant. The pure, unadulterated, heat that coursed through her veins at her touch. The tell-tale throb between her legs where she'd already grown slick. How had she survived without this?
They explored each other slowly...carefully...painstakingly. Hands roaming over soft flesh. Checking every inch of the other to see if anything had changed, anything that needed more attention, committing everything to memory once more as if it hadn't already been. Lexa found the knife wound on Clarke's thigh with a sharp exhale, but said nothing. Clarke's fingers found the well healed, but still long and jagged scar on Lexa's side with practiced ease, tracing over it in the same way Lexa seemed unable to stop touching the small bullet wound on her.
"Now we've both been scarred by our people," Lexa murmured thoughtfully.
Clarke swallowed thickly. "No more."
Lexa simply nodded.
No more.
All the pain and fear Clarke had been holding at bay for so long since they parted started to collapse in on her inexorably. Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she couldn't keep it in any longer.
"You knew, didn't you?"
Lexa met her gaze worriedly, looking over her quickly again as if she'd missed some injury in her initial assessment. This one couldn't be seen though.
"Knew what?" she asked when she met her eyes once more, assured that Clarke wasn't in physical pain.
"You knew and still you let me...you let me stop you. You knew how hard it would be, but you still didn't say anything because I wouldn't let you. Lexa, I'm sorry," she said as she cupped her cheek, gently stroking with the pad of her thumb. A few tears slipped out of the corner of her eyes. "I'm so sorry I did that to us."
"No, Clarke." Lexa shook her head and moved swiftly to curl her arms around her, looking absolutely stricken by this change. She didn't quite understand what Clarke was trying to say, but wanted nothing more than to fix it. "Whatever it is, you have nothing to be sorry for." Pressing their foreheads together firmly, she breathed, "You're alive. We're together. That's all that matters."
Clarke couldn't blame her for being concerned. They'd gone from unbridled joy and relief at being together again, soft and smiling, to her crying as if she were heartbroken.
It's because she was.
"It hurt to be away from you," she admitted, her voice cracking painfully.
All those days apart. All the lonely nights. Laying awake, well into dawn, wondering if she was alive. Not being able to share any of her fears with her friends or her mom. Not because she didn't love them or trust them, but because if she spoke of it...if she let those feelings have even one ounce more of attention, she wouldn't be able to hold them back. One tiny crack in the dam and it would all come crashing down. She couldn't afford to let that happen. Now Lexa was here. She was here and she was safe and there was nothing to stop her from letting it all come through.
"Shhh, beja, Klark," Lexa murmured soothingly, kissing her neck and cheek and chin and ear – anywhere she could find. "En's ku. Nou get yu daun. Ai laik hir...ai laik hir em yu ogeda."
Please, Clarke. It's okay. Don't worry. I'm here...I'm here with you.
Blowing out a long breath, she tried to keep a tight hold on whatever semblance of control she had left over her emotions. She didn't want to fall apart right now. She didn't want to cry anymore, not when they were with each other once again. But she had to tell her. She had to tell Lexa everything that had been plaguing her like a dark specter following her ever since she rode away from Polis that day, leaving them to their separate journeys, not knowing if they would ever see each other again.
"When I thought I was going to die..."
Lexa's hold tightened reflexively, bordering on painful, but Clarke was glad for it. She nosed into Clarke's hair, breathing deep, making Clarke's heart flutter at that sweet little action despite everything else. Then all that she'd been holding back started to pour out.
"When everyone thought I was going to die, really, I thought...how could I do that?" She started to choke up. "How could I leave you without ever saying goodbye or saying the words? How could I leave you like that? How selfish-"
"Clarke."
Lexa's soft, but firm utterance stopped her. She took it with gratitude because she felt herself teetering on the knife's edge of nonsensical. With a deep breath, she looked into her eyes, trying to get a handle on this somehow. Instead, her next words came in a tremble that she wasn't used to ever hearing from herself.
"Did it hurt you as much?"
To be apart.
"Yes."
And more.
"Do you feel...do you feel it now?"
Lexa gazed at her for one long, agonizing moment before nodding slowly. It seemed it was all she could manage right then. The room was silent save for their shared breaths coming shorter and harsher as they lay entwined together.
Every bit.
The pain of relief at being together again. The sweet ecstasy of having the soul sucking dread in the pit of her stomach, the anchor in her heart, the too tight feeling of her skin, the constant, dull ache in some part of her head or her body, gone in an instant. All of it and all at once. But that same rush of relief - the burden removed - it was so quick, so overwhelming, that the release became a new kind of pain on its own. Too much to take at once.
Lexa knew it too.
Clarke searched her face, for what, she didn't exactly understand, but she found it. Whether it was in her eyes or the shape of her brow or the curve of her mouth, she didn't know, but she couldn't stop herself. She surged forward, fusing their lips together again. She kissed her hungrily and with such urgency that Lexa whimpered as she tried to keep up. Filled with such, such painful need, Clarke flipped Lexa over onto her back and slid her hand between Lexa's thighs.
Gasping, Lexa tossed her head back and fisted her hand in Clarke's hair, tugging lightly, which only spurred Clarke on more. She buried her fingers in the slick warmth waiting for her and swallowed Lexa's cry as she took her.
It was between frantic breaths and soft, low moans in the dark golden light of candles that Clarke had never extinguished, that "I love you," was whispered over and over.
Lexa sighed into Clarke's mouth as the last trembles of pleasure faded away into boneless ecstasy.
Clarke's head was resting on Lexa's stomach, her cheek sticky and warm, and neither of them dreamed of moving. Lexa had already fallen half asleep when Clarke's voice pulled her back from the abyss.
"I couldn't say it before. I had to wait."
She was quiet for a beat. "Until I came back?"
"So that you would come back."
Lexa reached under Clarke's chin and gently tipped her head back so that she could meet her gaze. Clarke sighed, knowing she needed more of an explanation than that. She turned over so that she was looking up at her, face still pressed against Lexa's skin, and searched for her hand, lacing their fingers.
"Everyone I've loved, almost everyone, is dead. Everyone I've ever said those words to. I couldn't say them again, to you, and risk..." She shook her head, unwilling to voice the rest.
Lexa stroked her hair softly. "Why is it different now?"
"Near death experiences have a way of making you see things you didn't want to see before," she replied, laced with bitterness.
"You never had to say it. I knew."
She scoffed. "Now you tell me."
Lexa smiled sweetly, losing none of her gentleness in the moment. "You taught me, Clarke. Remember? Hodnes laik uf."
Love is strength.
"Or a curse."
The weight of Lexa's penetrating gaze on her was almost too much. Clarke couldn't face it. Once upon a time, it'd been her impassionedly speaking of the necessity of trust and love and Lexa, in her hardened loneliness, returning with embittered words of pain and sacrifice. Weakness, she'd called it. Telling Clarke that she would be better off without it, that it'd be less painful not to feel, not to love at all.
But it wasn't.
"Perhaps it is both."
Clarke finally gained the courage to meet her eyes again, quietly listening.
"To love is to accept the pain of loss. For all things must come to their natural conclusion. I have learned from you that there is no greater strength than to allow your heart to open while knowing the grief it will inevitably wrought."
"It's more than that," she replied softly, but didn't elaborate.
She didn't need to.
"You believe you are cursed?"
Clarke exhaled tremulously and silence fell between them, pressing in between flickers of candlelight and moving shadows.
"Then I will do my best to prove you wrong," she whispered finally.
Clarke raised herself on her elbows, moving up so she was inches away from Lexa's lips. "Just don't go away, okay?"
"Death is a part of life, Clarke." She sighed with a bittersweet expression. "It happens as it is meant to. I can't change my fate, no one can. I have already been Commander longer than most of my predecessors. Our lives weren't designed to exist as long as everyone else."
"Well, you're going to have to change that too. Just like you've changed everything else. You're going to die of old age...and after I do."
Lexa laughed softly.
"Why didn't you say it? Right before I was going to leave for Arkadia, I could see it. I know you were going to, but you stopped. Why?"
"You didn't want me to."
The simple brevity of her answer came in such a way that it unsettled Clarke. She didn't like the way it felt to hear that. "It-it wasn't about want..."
"Then you weren't ready," Lexa amended and kissed her tenderly. "Either way, we had a great many things to worry about before seeing where that step would take us...even if I already did take it in my heart."
Clarke trailed her fingers down over the delicate lines of Lexa's throat, into the dip in the middle, and over the angular shape of her collarbone. Her gaze followed her fingers before she finally looked back into her eyes.
"Ai hod yu in, Leksa...Heda...Ahleksia kom Trikru."
Lexa stiffened slightly at the last one. Clarke had never used her given name before. She'd never even asked about it when Nia insisted on using it at every turn. She could feel Lexa's heart thundering against her own chest.
But Clarke didn't have to ask to know how Lexa felt about the name. It was remnants of an old life, a different person, a skin she had to shed or evolve from to become the leader, the woman, she was now. Heda Leksa.
"All of them," she explained. "All of you. Every part."
Lexa smiled.
It was a pure, no holds barred, brilliant smile that melted Clarke all over again to see it.
With a sigh, she collapsed happily next to her on the bed, close enough that they shared the same pillow. Her naked body molded to Lexa's. She propped her head up on her hand and smiled down at her extraordinarily beautiful lover.
"You were right to worry about me," she admitted. "I did exactly what you didn't want me to do."
"It doesn't matter," Lexa said sleepily.
But it did.
"You were scared for me. When I left. Probably the whole time we were apart, right?"
Lexa exhaled slowly, stroking Clarke's bare arm every so lightly. They couldn't stop touching each other. It'd been too long to stop now.
"Yes."
Guilt twinged in Clarke's chest.
"I'm still here," she said reassuringly, whether it was for Lexa or for herself, she didn't know.
"Then whatever choices you made, they were the right ones. It's over. We both succeeded and our people are safe."
Clarke ran her fingertips over Lexa's face, caressing her cheek as they locked eyes and she breathed in deeply, examining every inch of her beautiful visage. The plump lips, the curve of her cheeks, the delicate eyebrows, strong jawline, that statuesque nose, and god, those deep, deep green eyes... Any residual pain was melting away the longer she was able to feel the reassuring, solid, warmth of Lexa beside her.
A giggle welled up inside of her suddenly and burst out before she could help it.
Lexa quirked an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
Clarke had to stifle the next one by biting her lip, but she didn't look away or stop her exploration of Lexa's face.
"You seriously would have been so mad at me."
Lexa sighed with exasperated fondness. "Perhaps you should spare me the details."
"That's probably for the best." She nodded laughingly.
Lexa thumbed over her bottom lip, soothing away the imaginary mark from Clarke worrying it. "It is the past now. Nothing more to be said, nothing more to be done. We can only move forward and we still have much work to do."
Clarke kissed her slowly...lovingly. "We're not working tonight." She laid her head on the pillow and urged Lexa to roll towards her so that her head was resting on Clarke's chest. "You look like you're going to pass out any moment. It must have been a hard journey."
"Or you just have an innate ability to render me senseless with pleasure."
Clarke smirked. "I'm good at that, aren't I?"
"Most impressively skilled," she admitted in a mumble, eyes drooping with exhaustion. "But, yes, I...I pushed the ride harder than I should have. I believed you were still in Arkadia, days away, and I rode without caution. Foolish, most certainly, but I..."
"You what?"
"I had to see you. The sooner I arrived in Polis, the sooner I could leave to find you."
Clarke grinned and ran her fingers soothingly through Lexa's still damp hair before dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"You found me. And now you get to rest. Rid op, Heda."
Lexa's hold on her tightened ever so slightly and Clarke knew why.
"We're going to wake up to each other this time," she promised.