Note: I've been writing this and rewriting this ONE chapter since March and it never came out quite right. Now with the help of HedaM, OneKast, and most importantly my beta reader incognito_lesbian, I have come up with this chapter.
When Clarke comes back into the tent with Octavia, she is eerily silent. The stubbornness that had encompassed her face when she had insisted Lexa allow her to Arkadia had faded to icy resolution. All the guards stand back and even Lexa, who usually is softer with Clarke, replaced her emotionless mask.
Everyone can sense it, this isn't the peacemaker that inhabited Clarke's body. The presence is the ghost of her traumas, perhaps an escape from the painful memories. It is ruthless, cruel, crushing. It is Wanheda.
The Heda's nostrils flare as Wanheda waltzes directly to her and grins leeringly, reaching out and grabbing the Heda by her chin patronizingly. The Heda jerks her head away from Wanheda's touch and scowls.
"Oh, don't look so sour, my little flame. She's still in here, watching. She just relinquished control to me for this part because it breaks her heart",Wanheda borderline giggles. Clarke Griffin isn't a giggler.
She walks over to the war planning table languidly, hoisting herself up and crossing her legs, leaning back on her palms lazily, sending several maps flying to the ground. Shegazes down upon the Heda, a smile still in place.
"You see, even Clarke has her breaking point, however strong this vessel may be. Skaikru has taken advantage of her good deeds time after time, and poor Clarkey, wants to join the cause of the Coalition. Give me an army to eliminate the poison spreading in Skaikru to save those who are still pure."
Lexa breathes out with her nose. Despite how Clarke rejects Wanheda as a part of her, they are a part of the same being. Steeling her nerves for whatever might happen (Wanheda is always rather unpredictable in all ways except one: reveling in death), Lexa steps forward, raising a brow.
"That is wonderful, but you cannot possibly think that it won't aggravate circumstances." Lexa explains with equal levels of restraint and frustration.
Wanheda tilts her head at Lex, her expression that of somebody explaining to a small child.
"Yes… but Skaikru are the ones who need to be suppressed, and there's a way to dispel the clans' distrust isn't there?"
Lexa's heart pounds in her ears. It is a theory, something she had told Clarke on a whim when Clarke had asked whether or not Commanders could have partners, but she can't possibly be even considering it. Not even Clarke Griffin could possibly be that brash right?
Her whirling thoughts are quickly proven wrong as Wanheda hops off the table and saunters forward until she is right in front of Lexa, and then drops to her knees with a thud at Lexa's feet. Her icy blue eyes catch Lexa's emerald green ones and hold them in an intense gaze. It is a tether between them as Clarke pulls a knife from her belt.
"Clarke", Lexa hissed, "Clarke, you don't know what you're doing." Clarke has to be within there somewhere, the Clarke that doesn't love her, and deserves so much better than to be stuck with this arrangement when she awakes.
The woman in question laughs, cutting a gash into her palm so that her red blood drips to the floor. It is as if she is challenging Lexa to doubt her, go against her words. "I, Wanheda, give my blood to you, to be bound to you by blood, intertwined in spirit, flame to the spirit of death. Even in death may we never part." She then thrusts her hand to Lexa and looks at her expectantly.
At this moment Lexa is faced with an impossible choice. She's not sure Clarke knows exactly what a blood binding with the commander entailed. For that matter, she wasn't sure where Clarke had heard of how to propose it. It was no normal union. It was so, so, much more than that.
The guards and Indra witnessed this entire exchange. To reject is to say there is no hope for Skaikru, that even the ambassador is bad. Perhaps part of her doesn't want to reject Clarke either. More than anything, it's a viable option. She doesn't have to kill everyone and exact jus drein jus daun anymore if they're just punishing the killers. If they want any chance of the rest of skaikru that isn't hellbent on war accepted into the Coalition, this union has to happen. With Skaikru's weaponry, and tek, regaining control and confidence in her rule would be simple.
Lexa takes her own dagger, cutting a gash of pure black blood, and lowers herself to her knees so she is the same height as Clarke. She takes Clarke's hand and clasps their palms together, their blood, black and red, dripping down their wrists, and to the dirt floor. Then she speaks, forcing her voice to be steady in the face of a wavering future, "I, Heda of the thirteen clans, give my blood to you, to be bound to you by blood, intertwined in spirit, death to the spirit of flame. Even in death, may we never part."
"Ai sin em in,"(we witness it) the guards chorus and fall to their knees as well. Their faces are pure awe that they get to witness such an important event. Even Indra struggles to her knees and repeats it, although her expression is a frown.
-0-
Clarke awakes to the sun shining in her eyes through the tent flap. She pushes herself into a sitting position, blinking a few times. A pain pulses from her palm that is pressed to the bed and she hisses, bringing it to her vision to examine the cause, only to find a bandage wrapped around it. She's not quite sure how she got that, or how she ended up in a bed for that matter.
A soft voice comes from across the tent, at a small round table. "Clarke…?"
Lexa is sitting there on a small round wooden stool. The room is warm and lit by the daylight that filters through the fabric and way too many candles to be considered safe in a flammable tent. She stands up and hurries over, cloak swishing grandly behind her, to sit by Clarke's side as soon as she sees Clarke awake. Her coat buckles are open to reveal her black shirt underneath. Green eyes look tired and with bags underneath as if she has stayed up all night guarding Clarke. It is simply a distant fantasy though. Lexa probably is just tired from everything that has happened in the last few days, because there's no way the commander of all people would stay up looking after Clarke.
"Lexa? How'd I even get here?"Clarke asks with a frown and rubs her head, trying to remember. It is all blank though, the last thing she remembers is walking back with Octavia and feeling helpless, as if she has no choice. She had wished there was an option to secure skaikru's relations with the Coalition.
Uncharacteristically, Lexa hesitates. "Clarke…" her tongue rolls and clicks slowly over the "k" in the name. There is a nagging feeling that something is wrong, although Clarke isn't sure exactly what. "How much do you remember?"
The tone Lexa filled Clarke with dread. "Walking back from the Ark with Octavia...why?" It was as if she had a feeling what Lexa was going to tell her before she even said it, but she hoped against hope that it hadn't happened again, that she hadn't lost control.
"Last night… in front of all my guards, and Indra, Wanheda proposed a blood binding union to me", Lexa's eyes search Clarke's for a reaction, concern written in her features. Her hand goes comfortingly to Clarke's upper arm and the protective gesture spreads warmth throughout her.
Clarke takes in this information, with a crease in her brow and a nod. "It is the necessary move."
Lexa shakes her head vigorously and scowls. Her disagreement is obvious. "No, Clarke." She pushes herself off the bed and starts pacing in front of the bed, heels of her boots sounding against the floor as she paces with her hand behind her back. Then she whips to face Clarke, face set in determination that bordered on anger. "You don't understand. A blood binding union is so much more than a normal union."
The brunette's irritation is obvious. She is almost desperate to convince Clarke.
Clarke raises a brow dubiously. She knows just how cruel grounder traditions are. It is because she knows exactly how awful they are that she has been trying to prevent it from continuing this entire time. Part of her is almost offended how Lexa seems to want to shield her from it.
"Lexa, I know but that's what needs to be done."
Lexa's jaw clenches, her entire posture radiating tension.
"No, Clarke. You don't understand." Her green eyes flare with impatience.
It is a mockery that even now Lexa doesn't trust her enough to tell her the full truth. Clarke is just as impatient as Lexa when it comes down to it.
"Then tell me what it is I don't understand, Lexa!"
Clarke stands up, and walks forward so she is standing, glaring Lexa down as much as Lexa is frowning at her. She refuses to be babied as if she is a child that could never understand adult problems, especially not by Lexa.
"You could have a proper bonding! You could choose somebody who you actually want to spend the rest of your life with instead of this damned ritual! Instead of you hurting for days on end to prove that you're worthy!" Lexa explodes.
The fire in her eyes was reminiscent of the word flame, the flame that was within her.
The words strike Clarke and her face softens. Genuine worry bleeds into Lexa's expression and Clarke finally sees it. She isn't blocking Clarke's path, she's worried that Clarke will get hurt by marrying her. In fact her resistance is more of a loud question. Are you sure you want to marry me, Clarke? More than anything, Lexa is scared that this choice wasn't Clarke's at all, but the demon within her.
She steps forward until she is most certainly within Lexa's personal space, and speaks just loud enough for them to hear. It makes the moment an intimate little thing. Small and insignificant to the world, but the entirety of their world.
"I am a leader. I could never just walk away from this."
The meaning of this is left vaguely drifting in space. Clarke wishes she could say "from you", but it would be a cruel lie. Any day, a circumstance can pull her and Lexa apart, and both women know that. Tender words like those are for lovers, something they are not and will probably never be. Their feelings are insignificant in the face of betrayal and responsibilities. So if this political play happened to benefit them emotionally, what was the harm?
-0-
The ride back to Polis was tense. The guards eye Clarke, not quite knowing what to make of her. Indra is uncharacteristically slumped atop her horse, arm slung in a cast and silent instead of hissing suggestions to Lexa's orders. Clarke herself has a lot to consider.
Her life has been barreling on and on since her feet hit the ground.
Honestly she wasn't quite sure what to think of Lexa. Her mind knew that Lexa was a good ally but her heart has been tugging her toward Lexa in a way that it shouldn't. The same way that caused her to kiss back in that tent before Mount Weather. She wants to curse Wanheda for doing something so crazy.
A cruel laugh bounces inside Clarke's skull. I'm killing two birds with one stone. You get the commander and the peace you want.
Not like this! I don't want to get married to somebody I don't love! Clarke protests inside her brain, scowling. The horse jolts her spine as it takes a particularly big step to avoid a large boulder.
Do you really not love our dear flame?
She sees Lexa examining her cautiously and nods in acknowledgement. There's no need to scrounge up a smile. With the betrayal and the vow of fealty, there is no need for secrets like that between them. Especially now with politics ruling their every minute, it was even more important that the milliseconds in between those minutes were honest and truthful.
The silence that follows is even more mocking, it is as if Wanheda knows she is the victor due to Clarke's reaction to Lexa. Clarke grits her teeth. She will not be bested by a part of herself that she cannot control. Wanheda is blood-thirsty and she would never let a person like that win on the outside, nevermind on the inside of her.
"I don't!"Clarke hisses under her breath, not realizing she has spoken aloud.
Lexa's slender hand immediately snaps upward in a signal to stop.
"Sanch." (Lunch)
Her abrupt order covers for Clarke's slip up and as the guards scramble to unpack their gear and help Indra off her horse (who looks rather offended by their offers), Lexa jumps off her steed in one graceful motion. She extends her hand out to Clarke. Clarke takes her hand gratefully, bum still not quite used to riding even with all the months in the wilderness.
Lexa steadies her with a hand to her upper arm and she ends up closer to Lexa than she intends to be.
"Thanks",Clarke murmurs.
In return the commander quirks her head inquisitively, "Is it Wanheda?"
Clarke only registers Lexa's warm and gloved hand still on her arm. The worn material is somehow comfortingly familiar.
"Yeah",she says, shaking her head as if to shake it off.
She then pulls away and stalks off to help the guards. Clarke doesn't want Lexa to see her like this. She knows Lexa understands the inner demons that haunt a person with the weight of so many deaths on their shoulders. Without a doubt, how much they understand each other is what scares Clarke the most. Nobody has ever understood her like this. Not her mother who always just wanted her to follow in her footsteps. Jake Griffin was amazing, but in his eyes she was a golden-child who could do nothing wrong. Most certainly not Bellamy Blake who had become one of her closest allies throughout this entire ordeal. She thought they had gotten over their differences, but it was becoming apparent that they definitely had not. In the end they still stood at the end of the barrel of each other's guns.