I don't own The 100. They belong to Kass Morgan, Jason Rothenberg and who knows who else. They are an immense amount of fun to play with, though, and I'll clean them up before I put them away. Any errors with translations to Trigedasleng are all on me. Italics = thoughts.
Lexa stood still when Clarke put the blade to her throat. Nothing was resolved between them. She kept her eyes locked on Clarke's.
If you need my death to fix yourself, you may have it.
Lexa pushed against the blade. She did not believe that Clarke would kill her; the knife's sharp edge faced Clarke. She saw longing in Clarke's eyes, and pain, and uncertainty. That was new. Clarke was always decisive. Impulsive, and when she reached a decision, she acted, and followed through until everything was done. It was how she became Wanheda.
How she became the woman holding a knife against Lexa's throat.
Clarke didn't expect Lexa's honest apology or the regret in her tone. When she turned away and dropped the blade, Lexa wanted to comfort her. She wanted to tell Clarke that she had a plan, that she would keep Clarke safe, and by extension, Skaikru. I will protect your people. I will feed them, clothe them, give them shelter. I will give them everything that you will not accept from me.
Lexa kept her distance as she explained her plan. Skaikru would become the 13th member of the alliance. As such, they would be under the protection of Lexa's army, of all the armies. All Clarke had to do was swallow her pride. Lexa was well aware that it was, with rage, nearly all that Clarke had inside. She knew, too, that Wanheda would bow. Clarke, not so much.
They both understood the benefits of theater. Clarke bathed, but refused help with her hair. Lexa brought her the first outfit she had made for Clarke, and after Clarke dressed, put on the warpaint that would forevermore be Wanheda's signature.
Clarke looked at herself in a mirror, turned back to Lexa and nodded. Now, it was a waiting game, though it wasn't a game at all.
Guards opened the enormous doors and Clarke confidently entered the meeting room. Clarke dared not look at anyone but Lexa. Her stomach was in knots. There was a song as beautiful as the woman singing it, but it was in the background for Clarke. She saw only Lexa.
It didn't help that Lexa was beautiful in the black dress with its ornate silver decoration under her breasts, arms bare, one of her many tattoos showing, her war paint understated and formal.
Clarke stopped where she was supposed to and took a deep breath.
Clarke knelt before Lexa for her people.
This is for them. Everything for them. I can't lose any more of them. If another dies because of me, I will die, too. This is for them.
She went down on one knee, hands clasped atop the other, head bowed. Wanheda submitted herself to Heda's will, and Clarke tried not to choke.
Marcus Kane accepted the mark of the Alliance and grit his teeth against the pain of the branding iron. It had just been removed from his arm when Pike and the Blakes burst into the room. Lexa didn't know how they got past the guards, but knew that she would have to find a way to excuse their actions.
Kane ordered them to stand down, and they reluctantly did. Bellamy's radio came to life, and Raven wept while she delivered the news. Mount Weather was gone for good this time. It devoured more people, and Clarke hoped that this blood sated Maun-de. Somehow, she doubted it would.
Lexa declared war on Azgeda, and all of Skaikru hurried to return to their lands. Indra went with them to gather Trikru's forces to protect the Ark. Clarke would not return with them. It was no longer her home, and they were no longer her only people. Her place was with Lexa. She was a symbol, and she was Skaikru's ambassador, and she would not leave until it was time to fight.
Instead, she sat in Lexa's war council with the ambassadors of every clan. Messengers ran in and out of the room, leaving messages, taking messages. Lexa made a note to get radios for everyone. It would give them an advantage that Nia would not have. Natrona would have to rely on scouts and spies while the Alliance traded information in real time.
The council meeting was short. Lexa called for troops to march to Polis, to the Ark, and on Azgeda. When the Ice Nation was defeated, those who survived to return home would find nothing. They would freeze and starve during the winter, and submit or die in spring. Given the amount of pain and trouble Azgeda caused her, Lexa hoped to eradicate them.
Clarke washed the paint from her face and changed into something less formal. She stood near the balcony, looking out toward the Ark, hoping her people would make it home safe.
She turned when Lexa came in. Lexa changed, too, into the black leather armor that was more familiar to Clarke, and her face was bare. Beautiful, so beautiful. How can I hate you and love you at the same time? How can I trust you? How can you trust me, knowing that I did not submit in my heart and mind?
Lexa knelt before Clarke for her heart.
Costia died before they had enough time together to understand what the words they said to each other truly meant. Since then, Lexa guarded her heart with the same ferocity the heda brought to every action.
Her eyes stayed locked on Clarke's, and Clarke's on hers. "I swear fealty to you, Klark kom Skaikru." I love you. See it. See me. I know what it cost you every time. I will help you carry that burden if you allow me. Beja, Klark. "I vow to treat your needs as my own, your people as my people." I will do anything for you, Klark. I will do everything for you. Anything you want, I will give.
Clarke offered her hand, and Lexa took it. Her eyes moved their joined hands while she rose. Does she understand? Does she accept? Clarke's eyes gave nothing away. Her face was neutral. But her fingers remained wrapped around Lexa's hand. They stayed that way for many minutes, Lexa hopeful and Clarke enigmatic.
Lexa broke first. She lowered her eyes, unable to look at Clarke when Clarke offered nothing in return. "I must go." She does not accept. She does not believe me.
"No." There was hint of anger in Clarke's voice. You don't get to run away.
"Klark," Lexa pleaded. If this is how you want things to be, you must let me go.
"No, Lexa, you don't get to say that to me and leave." She backed further into the room, pulling Lexa with her.
Not that Lexa was resisting. Clarke still held her hand. Clarke wanted to talk. Lexa couldn't decide whether she should fan the spark of hope she felt.
"Why now, Lexa? Are you so desperate to keep Wanheda at your side?"
"It has nothing to do with Wanheda and Heda."
"Say what you need to say, Lexa."
"I did."
"It's not enough."
Lexa's eyes dropped to the floor again.
With her other hand, Clarke raised Lexa's chin. "Chek au ai," she said sharply.
"Chit gat in ai, Klark?"
"Yu hod ai in?"
Nearly all the tension left Lexa's body as she realized what Clarke wanted to hear. "Sha, Klark, ai hod yu in."
"Ai hod yu in, Leksa." Clarke went to one knee for the second time that day.
Lexa began to say that it wasn't necessary, but the look on Clarke's face said otherwise.
"I swear fealty to you, Lexa kom Trikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own, your people as my people."
Lexa pulled Clarke to her feet. As much as she wanted to kiss Clarke, it could wait. She put her free arm around Clarke and pulled her close. She pressed her face into Clarke's neck, more relieved than she could express. The weight in her chest dissolved.
Clarke held on. For this time, it was just them. Lexa smelled, as she always did, of leather and soap and smoke. It smelled like home.
The Ice Nation was still coming. Their people would suffer and die, and after they won, they would grieve together, and put everything back the way it should be.
-30-
Chek au ai. = Look at me.
Chit gat in ai? = What do you want?
Yu hod ai in? = Do you love me?
Ai hod yu in. = I love you.
