Chapter 1: Prologue - What Comes Before

(Edited: 2/11/22)

Author's Note:

Alright folks, I have a lot of feelings about the idea of Clarke and Lexa as soulmates, about the Nightbloods and their possible mythology, about Aden and Lexa as a kickass pair, Polaris as the 13th station, and the possibility of an Arker!Lexa. Full disclosure, this will be a sort-of-canon-but-not-really-canon Parallel Universe work which will see some characters changing from Grounder to Arker, and vice versa, and will be told mostly from Lexa's POV. All characters will eventually make an appearance.

This first chapter is pretty much just a Prologue, something I wrote to feel better after episode 3x06 aired. Chapter 2 switches to Lexa's POV and sets the stage for the AU of my dreams. If you are looking to jump straight into the actual story, you can easily just skip right to Chapter 2. (Looking back on this now from 2022, I suppose this first chapter might help you remember what the hell was going on just before they killed Lexa off on the show, so I'm leaving it in). Comments are welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading! - FlyUpInSky

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The muted glow of candles and torchlight filled the spacious room in their soft light, casting gently upon the figures of the Commander of the Coalition and Clarke Griffin of the Ark, the remains of a simple meal scattered between them on the war room's large, single table. The two young women did not speak, both appearing to be lost in their own thoughts, the conversation having lapsed into a comfortable silence while they ate.

Lexa's eyes scanned quickly through a series of reports written on slim rolls of paper in an indecipherable text, and Clarke's eyes were unfocused and distant, gazing sightlessly down at the assorted maps that dominated the rest of the table's surface, memories of the dropship and thoughts of the people she knew and cared for back in Arkadia playing within her mind. Several servants moved unnoticed through the room, removing torches and extinguishing candles as they went. The light slowly dimmed around them, darkness sliding closer and wrapping them in its soft embrace, their faces illuminated now only by the candles remaining on the table's surface. With the exposed beams and concrete of the ruined tower now obscured, the room and its furnishings looked even more medieval, the new dark age of a post apocalypse Earth harkening humanity back to the dark ages of centuries past.

Clarke was roused from her thoughts when their only remaining attendant stepped forward to clear away what was left of their meal, murmuring a soft question in Trigedasleng before he withdrew. She glanced over at Lexa, and seeing that she was still entirely focused on the reports in front of her and had taken no notice, she then turned and answered him in the same language.

"No, thank you, that will be all for now."

The servant bobbed his head in a bow and retreated, light from the torches in the hall spilling inwards briefly as the room's heavy doors swung shut behind him. The room fell into an even deeper silence than before, one now lacking the shuffle of servants' feet and the guttering breaths of torches.

Clarke was struck by the realization that they were now truly alone together as they had not been in more than a week's time; not since Carl Emerson, the last of the Mountain Men, had been banished eight days earlier, and the next crisis brought on by Skaikru's continued incursions into Trikru's lands had overwhelmed them, launching them both into a flurry of activity and political maneuverings which had since consumed their days and nights. The situation between the Clans and the people of Arkadia was continuing to deteriorate, as it seemed that every move they made to ensure future peace was met only with further acts of aggression by now-Chancellor Pike and his bloodthirsty followers.

Almost despite herself, Clarke's mind again turned to Bellamy. The terrible accusations he had thrown at her in that room in Arkadia were still painful. Though she knew he now supported Pike in his campaign, Clarke still struggled to truly believe he was sincerely committed. After all they had gone through together, Bellamy was supposed to be someone she could depend on – always.

Until he wasn't. Until he helped to carry out a senseless massacre which destroyed everything she and Lexa had been working towards.

With each passing day since the slaughter of Indra's army, Clarke found it easier to reconcile that her people had committed such an atrocity. Her initial disbelief and horror had given way to a wary sense of disillusionment. There were truly no limits to the horrors that humanity would reap upon one another. She should know. She was, after all, the mighty Wanheda, Mountain Slayer. Hadn't her own actions taught her what people were truly capable of? What Bellamy was capable of?

Clarke sighed, settling back into her seat and tilting her head backwards to rest on the high seatback. She felt tired, and much older than her actual years. Not just physically tired, but a weariness in her soul which threatened to drag her down and bury her in accumulated grief. The wild, wounded creature she had been only weeks before when she first arrived in Polis felt like a distant memory. The hopeful, idealistic girl who had stepped off the dropship and smiled as fresh, pine-scented air hit her face for the first time was like a beautiful stranger seen in a distant dream. Clarke wondered who she was now, and if she would ever be able to get back to who she had been before. Should she even want to?

The truth was, ever since bowing to Lexa and deciding to spare Emerson's life, Clarke felt more at peace with herself and her decisions than she had since that terrible day in Mount Weather. She was even drawing, she acknowledged with a private smile, something she thought she might never have the heart to do again.

A sound beside her drew her attention. She turned her head tiredly to look, her eyes meeting Lexa's immediately. The Commander had turned sideways in her seat and was now regarding her, having set aside the dispatches she had been reading throughout most of their shared dinner. They had been meeting with assorted advisors and ambassadors for most of the afternoon, and Lexa was still dressed in her formal attire, her dark coat hanging around her protectively like the armor it was. She was without war paint, however, and had undone several of the clasps at her throat after the others had departed, which did much to soften her normally fierce appearance. As ever, despite the fact that they were completely alone, her posture was alert and poised, displaying the unconscious self-possession only found in one who knows that their every action is being watched, their every expression evaluated for potential weakness.

Even like this, sitting silent and motionless beside her, Lexa's presence filled the space. It was the same whether there were two people in the room with her or two hundred. The other woman just had that special type of guarded reserve which both fascinated and intimidated, simultaneously drawing people closer while also pushing them away. It was an effect to which Clarke was, admittedly, not entirely immune.

"You should go and rest, Clarke," she said, her voice soft and face inscrutable in the candlelight. "There is nothing more to be done tonight that cannot wait until morning, and you seem tired."

Clarke exhaled a short breath, pulling herself upright in her chair and turning to face her, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"No, not tired, just… distracted. Too distracted to sleep, probably."

There was a pause as Lexa regarded her thoughtfully.

"If you are concerned about Titus and his continued stance against your people, I assure you, he will not act without my orders," she finally said, annoyance at the man who was her closest advisor pinching the corners of her eyes, her change in expression so slight that most would not have recognized it.

"He may question me, and test my patience from time to time, but he is loyal."

Clarke nodded, her mind turning back to the tense debates which had occurred in this very room earlier that day. Upon realizing that the Commander could not be persuaded to all-out war with Skaikru, Titus had turned his efforts towards arguing for a more targeted retaliatory strike.

"If it's only the new leaders among Skaikru who want war, as Wanheda insists, then surely we can all agree that if it is they who ordered the massacre, then it is they who deserve our vengeance! Heda, I implore you, the clans will not stand for further inaction while Skaikru continues to invade our lands and molest our people. Send in our best assassins. Strike the head from the snake and watch the body whither. Peace will never be achieved without more blood spilt. Let it be the blood of those who ordered our people's deaths, and who defy your hopes for peace at every turn!"

His words had had an immediate effect upon the room, rippled shouts and murmurs of agreement spreading amongst the assembled clan leaders and ambassadors. Even Clarke had found herself wondering if perhaps his plan had merit. Hadn't she and Octavia essentially attempted much the same thing only a week before?

But no, it was not nearly so simple, she knew, and Lexa agreed with her. As tempting as it was to hope that simply removing Pike and his inner circle would fix everything, there were too many ways for assassination attempts to fail. Inevitably, some of the ringleaders would survive. These new deaths at the hands of Grounder assassins – within the perceived safety of their own walls, no less – would only goad Skaikru to further attacks, deepening the mistrust between the two peoples and convincing even the more peace-minded Arkers to support Pike's policies.

Like all the other courses of action Titus had championed over the last week, this would only end in war with the people from the Ark. Which was, Clarke suspected, his true goal all along. She had not forgotten what Lexa had told her several days earlier. Titus had strongly opposed Skaikru entering the Coalition as the thirteenth clan, and had even suggested she kill Wanheda in order to strengthen her position as Commander.

"I know you trust Titus. I believe he's doing what he thinks is best for your people, and I want to have faith in your judgement of him, but…" she paused, conscious suddenly of the delicacy of this conversation.

She had asked the Commander to trust her judgement in the past, and Octavia was only alive today because Lexa had put her trust in Clarke's assessment of the loyalty of one of her own. Did she really have a right to question Titus' loyalty like this with her now?

In the end, the need to protect her friends in Arkadia drove her to continue, despite the pang of guilt it caused. The Commander wanted her honesty, after all. She even seemed to appreciate her freely spoken opinions to the extent that she now sought out Clarke for her advice. But she also knew that what Lexa truly yearned for was for Clarke to trust her again.

"I'm sorry, Lexa, I just don't trust him," she admitted finally, unable to stop herself from trying to do something about the vague suspicions crowding at the corners of her mind.

"It's not just that he's eager for war, or even that he's tried to persuade you to retaliate. I understand why he feels the way he does. My people committed a terrible atrocity, so maybe he's justified in his desire for vengeance. What concerns me is that he's so eager to say so in front of others… He knows you are committed to peace and that his support is necessary if we're ever going to get your people to agree, but he continues to be vocal about his dissent in front of your ambassadors, your warriors."

She leaned towards Lexa, her gaze focused and unwavering, her voice softening from its initial fierceness to a more concerned, anxious tone, her sudden emotions surprising her.

"He told me he fears for your life. That setting aside 'blood must have blood' is dangerous, not only for the Coalition but for you personally. If he truly wanted to protect you, he should be helping us convince the others, not making things worse by arguing with you in front of your own people!"

Clarke watched Lexa's face carefully for her reaction, unsurprised when she continued to hold her gaze, not glancing away or breaking eye contact as so many others might have done in the face of the intensity that was Clarke Griffin with a cause. Clarke felt the tightening in her chest, the pang of emotions buried deep within, and it was an uncomfortable reminder that she felt more for this woman than she should; more than was safe in this dangerous world.

After a prolonged moment of consideration, she was relieved to see Lexa's features relax a bit, her guard coming down in a way she only ever seemed to do when they were alone together, as they were now.

"I understand your concerns about him, Clarke. Even Indra feels the same, but neither of you know Titus as I do."

Lexa leaned forward with her words, clasping her hands loosely in front of her with her elbows on her knees, her voice gentle but insistent. Their chairs were separated by a couple feet, but seated as they were, sideways and leaning towards one another, with only the soft and intimate glow of the candles clustered in the center of the table beside them, it seemed as though there was no distance between them at all.

"True, he doesn't share our vision of peace through peaceful means. He's only known peace through strength, and peace through war. We built the Coalition together using those principals and the traditions of our people to guide us, and it has worked so far. You say he knows that I am committed to peace with Skaikru, but I don't believe he fully comprehends my commitment, nor my eventual goal. No yet, at least. Until Titus is completely convinced that I cannot be swayed, he will continue to push for war with Skaikru."

Clarke was chilled at her words, her concerns mounting as Lexa spoke.

"But, that doesn't mean he will defy me," she continued. "He's been my most trusted advisor since the day I was called to lead my people. He's served three Commanders before me, and will likely serve the next upon my death. His loyalty to the Blood has been tested countless times and never found wanting."

This was not reassuring in the least. As ever, Lexa's casual disregard for her own lifespan frustrated Clarke immensely. It always seemed as if the other woman didn't expect to live past the present moment; as though she already accepted the fact that she would die young. This thought made Clarke want to grab hold of her and shake her, hard. Lexa had to live. Anything else was completely unacceptable.

She was distracted from her worries as the Commander spoke again, her eyes blazing with renewed passion, a tremulous hope echoing behind each and every word. It instantly transported Clarke back to that moment a week ago in the throne room, when Lexa spoke to her people with fire and eloquence in the face of their confusion over Clarke's decision not to kill Emerson.

"He fears change, as do all my people. He fears I've lost my way. We must convince him, all of them, that there's a new and better way… Peace without bloodshed. A future without violence constantly threatening everything we cherish. My people have only really known violence, Clarke. When the world burned, savagery was what kept us alive. They must be given the chance to see the future as you and I do, and to truly believe it's possible. This isn't something that can be achieved in a day, or a week, or maybe not even in years… But we must show them it can be done, and it starts with Skaikru. In time, Titus will understand. His greatest goal was always to see the twelve clans united. After I took command, I showed him it could be done. I will show him that this can be done as well."

There it was. Everything that made this remarkable person so fascinating, so unique, and so utterly revolutionary. Kane had called Lexa a visionary, and she truly was. She doubted even he had known just how true his words were at the time.

Clarke exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, swallowing her dry throat around the lump that had formed there. When Lexa spoke this way, of her hopes for her people, and of "we", and of a peaceful future as a mission to be shared, as though it was something which she and Clarke were destined to create together… It made her heart ache. It made some of the air leave the room, as though expelled by the force of her words. Despite herself, despite her pragmatism and understanding of the impossible challenges facing them, Clarke found her spirits lifting, her earlier despair over Bellamy and her concerns about Titus driven away by the sheer power of the other woman's words.

If anyone could inspire this monumental change, it was Lexa. She need only have faith in her, as she had on the day of the massacre, when she had laid the lives of her friends, her mother, and everyone else she knew and loved in Arkadia at her feet.

She had glimpsed it first in tiny pieces on the day they first met, when Lexa silenced Indra's objections and reached forward to take Anya's braid in her hands, listening to her offer of peace despite the many deaths Clarke had personally caused. When she accepted without argument Clarke's assertion that they focus only on rescuing their people from Mount Weather, and not on the wholesale slaughter of the people who had hunted, terrorized, and made monsters out of her people for generations. When she brought the Arkers into the Coalition, accepting all of the consequences for that decision on her own shoulders, willingly fighting a duel to the death, then pardoning those involved in order to avoid casting the clans into further conflict.

The day Clarke had gone before her to beg for Arkadia to be spared, she had been operating on instinct alone, her heart telling her that Lexa would agree, even as her head screamed at her for foolish hopes. There was no reason to believe she would spare them, only that Clarke had felt it somewhere within her all along that the two of them were kindred spirits, more similar and knowable to each other than seemed logical, or even possible. She had often wished it was otherwise, in the horrible aftermath of Mount Weather. When Lexa shocked both her and Indra with her decision on that bloody field, she had felt the last of her walls begin to crumble.

Clarke felt it the moment it finally happened, mere seconds after Lexa finished speaking, their eyes still holding each other with an intimacy that should have felt uncomfortable but wasn't. The last ghosts of suspicion and doubt, of fear of further heartache, of bitterness over past decisions and their consequences, finally melted away. Just like that, the walls she had carefully constructed between herself and the person before her were gone as though they had never been. A tension she hadn't even known she had been carrying suddenly leaving her like a gentle exhalation.

She felt light and warm. She felt, to be honest, a little dizzy. Her lips formed into a small smile. There was an inexplicable urge to laugh out loud, but she stifled it. Her smile grew on her face, becoming a full and genuine grin, and again she felt the urge to laugh when she saw the look of surprise which stole across Lexa's face, one corner of the other woman's mouth sliding into a genuine smile of her own. Clarke thought that it must look unusual, her smiling so freely. Her mouth felt strange, unused to the sensation, and it occurred to her that Lexa had likely never seen her smile without restraint. Not during any of the countless hours they had spent together planning their attack on Mount Weather, when she had been driven and consumed almost completely by her need to save her friends, and certainly not in the time since. She hadn't felt like she deserved it after what she had done, and any smile in Lexa's presence had seemed like a betrayal to those she had been forced to kill.

"Okay," she said, reaching forward to rest her left hand lightly on top of Lexa's clasped hands, her smile lessening somewhat as she focused on conveying the sincerity of her next words, concerned that she say just the right thing.

"I do trust you, and I meant what I said before, that your legacy will be peace. It's the greatest gift a leader can give to her people, and if anyone can make them see that, can make Titus see that, then it's you. I'll stop worrying about Titus. I know you can show them… that we can show them that finding a way to make peace with Skaikru without using violence is not just for the good of those living in Arkadia, but for the good of all our people."

Lexa's eyes widened, her gaze shining and intent upon her face for a moment before dipping down to glance at where Clarke's hand now rested against her own. When she looked back up, Clarke's breath caught at the sight. As she had seen only a few times before, Lexa wore an expression that was both tender and painfully exposed. One that completely stripped away any hint of the Commander of the Coalition and left in its place only a girl just a few years older than herself. A shy smile had burst forth on her suddenly young face, taking flight with all the fluttering vulnerability of a newborn bird, and Clarke knew that she had spoken the right words.

"Mochof, Klark kom Skaikru," she said, thanking her in Trigedasleng so softly that it was nearly a whisper.

"Pro, Leksa," she replied, squeezing the other woman's two hands together with her one, the physical touch sending warm and delightful messages up her arm.

Her own fingers felt cold, but Lexa's were deliciously warm despite the night's chill seeping into the room. The detached part of her mind, the part that had trained under her mother's medical tutelage for years on the Ark, wondered if the strange, black blood which all of the Nightbloods possessed effected their core temperatures, or if it had any other unusual physiological side effects. She supposed she could ask Lexa herself, or even Titus. He seemed to be her principal assistant in the care and teaching of the Nightblood children. If he had truly served for three previous Commanders, as Lexa had just told her, then surely his knowledge of the strange blood and its properties was unparalleled.

She frowned, a new thought striking her at once, and she shook Lexa's hands lightly, her tone a little playful.

"Wait, did you really just say that Titus has served three Commanders before you?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice. "That can't be possible. Just how old is he, anyways?"

Rather than the answering smile she had been expecting at her question, she was surprised when Lexa's open expression closed somewhat, seriousness overtaking her face as she answered.

"Titus is no older or younger than he appears, though you would need to ask him directly for a true count of his years. There have been many Commanders before me, and the trials are difficult. It is unusual for any of us to last as long as I have."

Clarke immediately wished she had not asked, though this did explain the apparent disregard with which Lexa always spoke about her possible death. If she had been discovered as a child to have black blood, and brought here to train at a young age, as she had earlier insisted all Nightblood children were, it meant that she had likely witnessed the entire rise and fall of at least one of the Commanders before her.

How many times had Lexa watched one of the older novitiates step into the mantle of Commander, only to die shortly after? It was a terrible thing to contemplate, and helped explain how a girl of sixteen could be so ruthless, so driven as to not only lead a crusade to join the twelve clans, but to then succeed where others had failed. All Grounder children were exceptionally tough when measured by the standards of the people of the Ark, but Lexa's accomplishments were especially remarkable. It also helped explain the apparent care she took with the children themselves. Especially Aden, the boy whom she had introduced as her probable successor. The Nightbloods were likely the closest thing to a family that Lexa had ever known.

And why did Clarke get the feeling that when Lexa said "the trials are difficult", that she had done so with deliberate emphasis, as though what she had truly said was "Trials", with the first letter deserving of capitalization. Not a generalization of the difficulties of being in charge, but instead a distinct series of challenges which must be faced and overcome. The more she learned of the Natblidas, and of the Hedas before Lexa and her Coalition, the more it seemed to Clarke as though the position had originally been more akin to a spiritual leader than a political one.

Prior to Lexa's reign, the clans had apparently been even more fractious and war torn than they were now; and yet, all of the clans had willingly sent their Nightblood children to Polis? There was so much she did not yet understand about the history and culture of the people she was living amongst. It struck Clarke that despite the many hours spent in each other's company, and despite the undeniable an inexplicable connection she felt with her, there was still a great deal about each other that they didn't know.

Time enough to change that, she decided.

"So, if Titus served previous Commanders, did he help train you as well when you were an initiate?" she asked, eager to learn more about Lexa's past but wanting to steer clear of discussions of death and trials for now. "Why do I suspect that the main reason for his lack of hair is because of trying to keep up with you as a small child?"

This time her questions did produce a smile as she had hoped, and it wasn't lost upon Clarke that their hands were still lightly touching, their bodies seeming to drift closer together of their own accord. They were both now perched barely on the edges of their respective seats, their knees nearly intertwined. It felt good not to resist the attraction she always felt for the complex woman before her.

Deciding she liked the way Lexa's hands felt beneath hers, Clarke gave in to temptation and let her other hand join them, fingers playing lightly along the outsides of Lexa's clenched fists. The other woman was tensing up, she realized, unsure of what this unnecessary physical contact might mean and wary of doing anything Clarke might not want. They had become comfortable together again over the past weeks, it was true, but Lexa was always careful to keep an appropriate distance. That consideration, which she had so greatly appreciated up until now, as it had allowed her to more easily keep her barriers up, now made Clarke feel a little regretful. It spoke a great deal of Lexa's uncertainty regarding Clarke's feelings.

I didn't think it would ever be possible, and it only just happened moments ago, but I think I have truly forgiven her, she thought to herself, the sensation still new enough that it was a marvel to recognize it.

I've forgiven her, but she doesn't yet know it.

"I don't know if blame for his baldness can be laid at me feet. He has kept his head shaved for as long as I have known him, as is traditional for his position," Lexa was saying, her words not without an edge of humor. "He only suffered as my instructor for six years. I was sent back to my clan to serve as Anya's second in my thirteenth year, and didn't return until they called the next Conclave."

Clarke quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that normal, sending a Nightblood back to their clan to be trained? Or were you such a handful when you hit your teens that it was decided only Anya could possible keep you under control?"

This earned yet another swift smile, Lexa's eyes casting sideways to regard the candles where they flickered in the center of the table. Clarke got the sense that she was both confused and pleased by the playful questions, perhaps surprised by her interest in her childhood and the obvious flirtation in Clarke's voice and touch.

Lexa looked back at her again and gave her a haughty shrug, a ghost of the hard edges and tough veneer she normally wore as the Commander making an appearance as she explained further with some pride.

"Not normal, no, but not unheard of. I was the best of my peers. It was decided that I'd learned all I could here, and that my training would be better served away from the shelter of Polis. Anya was my mentor for nearly three years after that, and I believe she would have told you if asked that I was a difficult student who was far too stubborn for my own good… but only because that was her way."

Clarke chuckled at this, enjoying the mental image of a younger Anya faced with the task of taking a highly precocious, and no doubt insufferably self-assured, teenaged Lexa under her wing.

"What of you?" Lexa asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. "If either of us were cause for terror in our elders as children, it was most certainly you."

There was a wistfulness to the look Lexa gave her as she asked the question. Clarke felt the hands beneath her own clench tightly once more and then release, her palms falling open and turning upwards to cradle Clarke's hands in her own. She held them gently, as though they were something precious. As though Clarke was something precious.

It was her turn now to glance down at their joined hands before answering, and she felt her face flush with warmth.

"Oh, well… I was pretty well behaved," she denied at first. Then admitted, a bit reluctantly, "But when I turned thirteen, I got drunk for the first time on some alcohol my friend Wells and I stole from his father's office. I mean, like, really drunk. We had no idea what we were doing," she said, laughing. "I tried to play it cool, of course, but as soon as I got home I threw up in my dad's favorite work boots he'd left by the door."

"Really?" Lexa asked, dryly. She didn't sound overly impressed with her dangerous misdeeds. "Was he angry with you? No, let me guess… He tried to punish you, but you somehow talked or tricked your way out of it."

Clarke allowed herself to look offended before shaking her head at her.

"No, of course not. My dad was very easy-going. I can't even remember him ever raising his voice at me." She chuckled, then added, "But I swear, Lexa, that next morning, when he put his foot into that boot full of cold vomit, I must have learned at least five new swear words. I'm still not sure what a 'dickswab' is supposed to be."

She smiled, her mind filled with the memory, some of the first unpainful thoughts she had had of her father since his execution on the Ark. Certainly it was the first time since his death she had spoken of him and not felt overwhelmed by the fact of his loss. She watched Lexa's lips first tremble, then slide and part into an actual smile, at first one, and then another breathy exhalation escaping her in what was…

Wait... Was that a giggle?

Clarke's jaw dropped, fingers tightly gripping Lexa's hands beneath her own in shock.

"You're laughing?!" she demanded, a spontaneous grin splitting her face. Lexa merely shook her head, lips clamping down unnaturally in what was surely an effort to contain any further outbursts.

"You were laughing! I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I am human, you know. I'm capable of laughter," she replied with remarkable poise, her eyes darting down to stare for a moment at Clarke's lips before lifting up to her face again, her expression showing none of the embarrassment which Clarke might have expected. Not that she had ever spent time trying to imagine what Lexa's laughter might sound like.

No, of course not.

"I know you're human… I've always seen that in you, even when I thought I hated you," Clarke said, the words feeling as though they were spilling out of her unbidden from a deep and hidden place.

Lexa turned serious as well, a slight tremor passing through her hands which Clarke could only feel because she was still holding them so tightly.

"And do you…" she started, then paused, hesitating. She chewed her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture for her, one which had the effect of drawing and holding Clarke's attention completely on those lips, rather than on the words she spoke next.

"After everything I've done to you, isn't there still a part of you that hates me?"

She never got an answer. Or at least, not in so many words.

The moment she finished speaking, Clarke slid forward onto her knees between Lexa's legs, and without waiting for permission, drew her lips against hers, her mouth hungry and full of intent. She felt Lexa startle against her when their lips connected, much as Clarke had during the initial moments of the single previous kiss they had shared all those months ago. Entire lifetimes, and yet, no time at all spanned between that moment and this one, and just as had happened the first time, all uncertainties melted away as soon as Lexa pressed back into the kiss, a delicious give and take building between them, every shared breath a physical manifestation of the true and soul deep connection they had always shared.

Clarke felt her skin ignite as the kiss continued, lips parting just enough to allow the delicate entrance of Lexa's tongue. She felt her body begin to smolder with the beginning of true desire, as though it were just now waking from a long hibernation. There had been her brief liaison with Niylah, of course, the woman from the trading post with whom she had felt some trust and no little shared attraction. It had not even been all that long ago, really. Only a matter of weeks; and yet, the landscape of Clarke's soul had altered so completely since coming to Polis that she could hardly recall any significant details from the encounter. She had just wanted another's touch, and to feel connected to humanity once more after being alone for so long. Niylah had given that to her freely, without restraint or censure. But she had still felt cold… So cold, both before and after, and it was that ice around her heart which had caused her to gather her belongings and slip back out into the night alone.

Not so here, with Lexa. Not so here, where there was only warmth, only comfort and connection. All the pent up desires of an attraction denied and repressed for months burned through their kiss. All of the things she had failed to find in Niylah, in Finn, she was finding right here, in the arms of the young woman right before her. This visionary leader of her people, who felt doomed to endless conflict when all she yearned for was peace. This fascinating, savage, relentless force of nature, who felt so deeply yet dared not show those feelings to the people she cared for. Dared not allow anyone to see how tender her heart truly was lest they destroy it completely.

But Clarke saw through it all. Had always seen through it to the person within, the person who could so obviously match her own inner strength and spirit that it both terrified and elated her.

Lexa slowed their kiss and drew back gently, eyes so obviously hooded with desire that it sent Clarke's pulse racing even faster, if that were possible. She searched Clarke's face intently, seeking something. An answer, perhaps, to some unspoken question. Clarke reached up with her left hand, cupping her cheek and drawing their foreheads closer together. The candlelight wrapped around them, encasing the two lovers in its warm glow.

"Do you remember the first few words you ever spoke to me on the day that we met?" she whispered, smiling when Lexa nodded yes, their eyes never leaving each other's gaze.

"And do you remember the first words I spoke to you?" she continued, eyebrow raised.

"Sha," Lexa exhaled, slipping in to Trigedasleng without thought, the rising flush in her cheeks leaving no doubt that she not only wasn't lying, but that she had caught the deeper meaning behind Clarke's words.

"It's always been true," Clarke whispered.

With that promise between them, their lips came together once again.

You're the one…