It was early morning by the time Clarke arrived at the river. She had set out at the first sign of light with the plan to give herself as much time as possible to catch fresh fish for the night. River lay close to the water's edge, ear flicking in contentedness at the cool grass she lay atop.

Clarke hadn't quite needed to hunt or fish. She had enough supplies to last her for weeks if need be, but today was special, no matter how much she tried not to think of it. A week had passed since Athena had visited. It was that simple. Clarke told herself that preparing a meal as well as she could would be the least she could do. Especially for the Commander.

And so Clarke, bow and arrow in hand, found herself standing knee deep in the river, lazy current happy to brush against her legs and her eyes staring at the fish that slowly swam back and forth in front of her. Clarke had time, there was no rush and she was under no hurry to waste the time she had already invested in luring the fish closer.

One in particular had caught her eye and as she continued to watch the pattern it swam she found herself trying to drown out the thoughts that moved within her mind.

Of course Clarke had had meals with Athena before, it had been ten years that they had known each other. It would even be unusual had they never shared a meal. But they had always been in the company of others, they had always been surrounded by guards, by ambassadors, warriors and dignitaries. For some reason this time felt different. Their time together had at first been strained, Clarke had nursed the loss of Lexa and she found accepting Athena's presence difficult. But in time Clarke had seen Lexa in the younger woman, she had seen the same wisdom taking place, the same caring. And it had been hard.

Perhaps despite the difficulties, Clarke had found Athena's presence calming in a way, in part because it made her feel like part of Lexa was close, and in part because she believed that as long as Athena still lived, Lexa would still live.

It wasn't logical, Clarke knew that. She had come to terms with the fact that some questions would never be answered, from the chip that had been Lexa and was now Athena, to the memories Athena must have had of them. But Clarke never asked, never pried, never let herself do something she would regret.

But that had been ten years ago.

Clarke wasn't the same woman she had been all those years ago. She wasn't the foolish girl who had fallen to the ground, she wasn't the stubborn girl who had been forced to become a woman before she thought herself ready.

Perhaps Athena's campaign to rid the lands of the bandits had sparked something primal within her, perhaps it had made her come to terms with the fact that she could lose Athena and along with her, Lexa.

But perhaps most of all, it was the fact that Clarke admired her, she respected her, thought her brave, determined and intelligent.

And when Clarke really took the time think, she knew what she felt. Athena had become her own woman, she had become her own entity, and Clarke could see that. She really, really, could.

Clarke sighed and forced her thoughts to the present. The fish she eyed continued to swim closer and closer until it was only an arm's reach from her. She took in a shallow breath, any movement she made sure enough to scare the fish away. Clarke drew back the bowstring, she let the creak of the bow in her hand vibrate through her muscles and she let the barest hints of wind filter through her mind as she focused.

And then she fired.

Her arrow snapped forward in a flash, it struck the water and pierced the calm that had settled around her. Fish below the surface darted left, right, back and forth and ripples broke the river's calm. And, just as sure as her aim had been, Clarke watched as the fish struggled to swim, arrow pierced through its side. Clarke raced forward, she took leaping steps through the river and she snared the fish, arrow in hand and pulled it up out of the water. Droplets of blood spilled down her arm, splashed into the water below and Clarke grimaced as she hugged the flailing fish to her body as she turned and began to move back to the river's edge.

River looked up at the commotion and Clarke could't help but to smile and laugh quietly at the distinct expression of annoyance that flashed across her face at the noise she had made.

"Sorry," Clarke said as she pulled out her wood chopping board from her pack. "Did I disturb your beauty sleep?"

River snorted before settling back on the grass, eyes closed and nostrils flaring just once in answer.

And with that Clarke set about cleaning the fish, all the while the thought of Athena's visit never far from her mind.


Alexandria stood at her kitchen bench, a tea-towel draped over her shoulder and a frown upon her face. The afternoon sun streamed in through an open window and the heat of the day had long since settled upon the lands. Eamon sat at the main dining table, one hand absentmindedly scratching Brutus behind the ears, the other slowly turning the pages of a book.

"This story is very good," Eamon said after a moment, and Lexa looked up from the apples she sliced to find Eamon holding up the book, cover facing her and a lazy smile upon his face.

"You should thank Athena next time she visits," Alexandria said as she turned her attention back to the apples.

"Perhaps I will," Eamon said.

But the break in silence seemed to bring words that had been warring within her mind out without her realisation.

"Did Athena speak to you, Eamon?" Alexandria asked, and she made sure her voice was as calm as could be.

"Yes," Eamon said with a shrug, attention still directed at the pages in front of him.

Alexandria's lip twitched in annoyance, if only because she knew she wasn't listened to fully. But she didn't quite want to give away just how unsettled her conversation with Athena had been. If only because she found it just a little awkward that Athena had said the things she had said.

"Eamon," Alexandria took a moment to pause, to give the man time to register her voice. But register her voice he did not.

And so Alexandria picked up a slice of apple and tossed it through the air. She watched with a satisfied smirk as it arced, as it spun, and she watched as it hit Eamon square on the forehead with a gentle plop.

"What?" annoyance coloured his tone as he looked up from the page.

"I asked you a question," Alexandria said, and she grimaced as Brutus almost took Eamon's fingers as he tried to grab at the piece of apple that lay nearby.

Eamon didn't seem to notice the near loss of digit though for he sighed, closed the book and scratched Brutus under the chin before turning to face her with his own frown.

"What was your question?" he asked, and despite the hints of annoyance that coloured his tone Alexandria could see that he sensed her unease.

"I—" but she didn't quite know how to say the things she wanted to say, in part because she didn't want to seem a fool, and in part because she knew to question, to delve into the past and to seek out the unknown was more than frowned upon. "Did Athena speak with you?"

"About what?" Eamon asked.

Alexandria bit her lip as she took a moment to consider how best to say what she wanted to say.

"Did she seem distracted to you?"

Eamon took a second's pause before shrugging.

"Perhaps," he said. "She is the Commander," he continued with a sigh. "She has returned from a campaign dealing with bandits. I would be surprised if she was not distracted."

Alexandria looked away at that, uncertain and unsure of how best to continue the conversation. Part of her didn't even want to continue to pick at the thread she had found; part of her wanted to do just that. To unravel the uncertainties, to take a closer look at the things that were left unsaid and forgotten.

But Alexandria startled as she felt a large hand settle over her own and as she looked up she found Eamon standing beside her, frown in place and understanding in his eyes.

"You have questions," Eamon said and it came out as a simple recognition of the thoughts Alexandria dared not voice.

Alexandria closed her eyes and looked away. In part she felt a fool to so suddenly be filled with uncertainties after so many years of having accepted how her life had played out. And yet, the more she thought over what Athena had said and the more she thought over the way Athena had looked at her, the more unsettled she became.

"I am a fool," Alexandria said eventually as she opened her eyes and looked at Eamon.

"No," he said with a sad smile. "Not a fool," and he squeezed her hand.

"You do not even know what unsettles me," Alexandria said with a quietness that she didn't mean to voice.

"I do not need to know," Eamon answered with a shrug.

Eamon fell silent then, and as Alexandria looked up at the man, she saw his eyes moving between hers, she found him trying to discern, to understand, perhaps to put thought into words before speaking.

"I—"

"You—"

Alexandria looked away and bit her lip as they both made to speak at the same time. "Speak," she said.

"I have lived here longer than the time I served as Natblida and Heda," he said. "Even I have moments where I wonder," and he gestured to the weapons on the far wall. "Even I have moments where I am unsure or confused," Eamon smiled sadly as a memory seemed to take hold. "You think of the people you have left behind," Eamon said eventually. "I think of them, too," and he shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if they still live, sometimes I wonder if they passed sometime during my rule as Heda," and this time the gravel in Eamon's voice seemed tinged with sadness and loss rather than the ease she so often heard.

And Alexandria found herself thinking of names she hadn't let herself think of in years. It had been so long that it was almost difficult to recall Anya's face. What saddened her the most was that she didn't know what Anya had looked like the day she died. The last thing she remembered of Anya was at the very beginning of her conclave. And despite her role as first Anya had been a youth, hardly old enough to be a woman in her own right, who had taught her all she had known, who had mentored her, and had seemed at the time to be full of wisdom and knowledge. But now, as Alexandria looked back, she supposed Anya had been just as lost as she was, she supposed Anya had simply done what she thought was best. There were years, lifetimes, moments shared and cherished that had faded to the past, never to be relived, never to be recalled. At least not by her.

"I long to remember my mentors," Alexandria said quietly, and she didn't mean for her voice to seem to hopeless.

"As do I," Eamon said, and his voice carried no shame or judgement.

Alexandria longed to remember Gustus, a man who had protected her, who had guided her, who had been her shadow just as much as Anya had been her guiding light. She didn't know how he died, she didn't know how Anya died. All she knew was that they gave their lives for her, for it was their duty. And that hurt.

She thought the least she could do was to remember. But she couldn't, and she had accepted that long ago. And yet? Perhaps not remembering wasn't so bad, if only because Athena must remember. The saddest thing of all though? Alexandria didn't remember what it felt like to lose Costia.

It didn't surprise Alexandria to find that a tear fell down her cheek. But it did surprise her when she felt Eamon's arms wrap around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace. Alexandria melted into the embrace, if only because she didn't know what else to do. Part of her didn't want Eamon to see her like this, not so suddenly and not after so many years. She thought part of herself needed it though. Perhaps simply because she felt selfishly alone, perhaps simply because she didn't know how to deal with the emotions Athena seemed to be bringing forward.

For a moment she could forget everything, for a moment she could live in the present and ignore all the worries that had resurfaced, and for a moment Alexandria thought it nice, comforting and peaceful.

"You and Agamemnon are all the family I have left," Alexandria whispered quietly, cheek pressed against Eamon's chest and voice half muffled.

She felt Eamon pressed his lips to the top of her head gently, the motion soothing.

"There are the servants, too," he said quietly, and Alexandria couldn't fight back the quiet bark of laughter that escaped her lips.

"I do not think they would let me cry into them," and she sniffled and squeezed Eamon just once before letting go and stepping back, his own arms quick to let her make space between them.

Perhaps she should have been embarrassed for making a scene, but as she wiped her face with the back of her hand and blinked away the rest of her tears all she saw was understanding in Eamon's eyes.

Alexandria felt something nudging her knee and as she looked down she found Brutus trying to squeeze his way between them, his head cocked to the side and tail wagging slowly back and forth.

"Brutus is jealous," Eamon said and he stepped back enough for the dog to wedge himself between them happily.

"Brutus is too big for his own good," Alexandria said as she knelt down and took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his snout.

Brutus seemed happy at the attention for he reached forward and tried licking her cheek, but she managed to turn, shift her body enough that he missed only to snuff in annoyance and try again even harder.

"Come, Brutus," Eamon said with a sigh as he reached forward and began pulling him away. "Perhaps we should get you a pup to keep you company," he said with a smile.

Brutus seemed to understand more than he should for he frowned and a distinct look of disgust flashed across his face.

"He does not like the sound of that," Alexandria laughed as she stood and wiped her chin on a tea towel.

A cough filtered through the air then and Alexandria winced as she turned to the hallway that led to their bedrooms.

"I will take Brutus," Eamon said as he began leading Brutus away. "Brutus might do more harm than good."

"Yes," she said quietly as she took in a steadying breath and tried to settle her emotions as she filled a glass with water before she began moving to check on Agamemnon.

Another couch rang out as she approached Agamemnon's door and Alexandria paused long enough to make sure her breathing was in check before she knocked quietly.

"Agamemnon?" she waited a moment for his response, but when none came Alexandria poked her head through the door frown in place.

Agamemnon lay in bed, pillows propping him up and a frown upon his face. His eyes lit up when he noticed her presence though and he waved her forward with a thin hand.

"Come," he said, voice hoarse. "I did not hear you."

"Are you ok?" Alexandria asked as she came to sit in the chair by his bed and placed the glass down on the bedside table. She took a moment to gather her thoughts and as she glanced out his open window she saw Brutus bounding across the grass as he followed a stick Eamon must have thrown.

"Yes," he answered with a dry smile. "Yes, I am quite alright, Alexandria," and as she turned back to him she was sure he didn't tell her the truth. But as Agamemnon paused he came to stare at her intensely, and for a moment Alexandria found herself feeling like a newly accepted second under the glare of a far too harsh first. "You have been crying," Agamemnon said simply.

"No," she shook her head, perhaps to give credence to her denial and perhaps to give her time to think of an explanation.

"You lie," Agamemnon chided.

"It was nothing," she said eventually, but as she looked Agamemnon in the eyes she found him looking at her with a mixture of sadness and worry.

"Life is too short to deny yourself feelings, child," he said and he reached out and took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Now," and he patted her hand. "I am going nowhere—"

Agamemnon began to cough more forcefully then, his face contorted and Lexa winced as a wheezing wet cough spluttered past his lips. She reached out for his bedside table and to the handkerchief.

"Here," she said as she rose from her chair and pressed the fabric to Agamemnon's lips.

"Thank you," he said once his coughing died down.

Alexandria smiled as she took the fabric from his hands and folded it neatly. She wouldn't mention the speckles of blood she saw, not yet at least.

"Water?" she asked as she reached for the glass.

"No," Agamemnon said as he shook his head and pursed his lips.

She knew from his expression that arguing with him today would end nowhere and so she settled for sighing and settling back down in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and her mind trying to organise the chaos of her thoughts.

"Where were we?" Agamemnon said eventually and she smiled as she felt him tug on her arm once.

"I believe you were about to take some rest," Alexandria said with a simple lifting of her chin.

"I may be old, child," Agamemnon said. "But I am no fool," and he smiled a watery smile that for just a short moment made him seem much younger than he was. "I will listen if you will talk, Alexandria."

Maybe it would be good to share things with Agamemnon, maybe it would be good to air her worries, her uncertainties and her fears. But most of all, Alexandria didn't know how long she had left with Agamemnon, and she wouldn't dare waste a single moment if she could.

Alexandria smiled, she tried to fight back the hurt in her eyes as she turned to him and took his hand in hers. She thought perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to talk without fear of judgement.

And so Alexandria let herself fall into her thoughts, she let her thoughts become word and she let herself share her pain, if only because didn't know what else to do. But she was happy she was here, with Agamemnon. She was happy she could hear Eamon's shouts of laughter and Brutus barking in response. And she was happy to share in those moments with the only family she thought she had left in the world.


It was late afternoon and Clarke stood in the centre of her small home. The sun had already begun to set over the horizon, the shadows it cast longer than it had been what seemed like just a few moments ago. She turned in a slow circle, mind cataloging everything she saw, critiquing every object she had set about in her home. Candles had been lit, their scents already taking hold of her home's interior. Things had been put away, and her belongings had been neatened up as much as possible.

Clarke didn't remember the last time she had tried to make a good impression, perhaps it had been from before she came crashing down to the ground. The apprehension and the excitement felt foreign to her, perhaps in part because she thought herself little exposed to the situation she was soon to be in.

Perhaps it was foolish to be taking things so seriously, perhaps it was foolish to be fretting over how the candles were set about, how her tapestries and paintings hung as straight as possible. But she wanted to make a good impression, she wanted to make sure everything ran as smoothly as possible.

She told herself it was because the Commander deserved the best.

She ignored the real reason.

Clarke had cooked the fish she had caught as expertly as she could, and truth be told, she was proud of herself. It wasn't often she went out of her way to do something special, and she was sure it couldn't really compare to the meals of any large village or of Polis, but still, it was something she took pride in accomplishing.

Satisfied, Clarke turned her attention to her small kitchen, to the open fire that housed simmering coals that kept the food warm and to the table she had set. Butterflies seemed to be building in her core with each passing second, and Clarke found herself clasping her hands tightly in front of her as she tried to reign in her emotions.

But the more she tried to do so, the more she began to panic.

Questions and scenarios began turning in her mind. What if Athena only had a moment to spare? What if she had already eaten? What if Clarke had seriously misjudged whatever connection was between them? What if Athena was only being polite? What if Athena didn—

A knock broke her spiralling thoughts and made Clarke jump.

And so Clarke took one last look around her home before taking in a steadying breath and moving to her door.

It was as if time moved in slow motion. Each step Clarke took seemed to take too long and each footstep that echoed out seemed to linger in the air far longer than it should. But she eventually made it to her door, and she was thankful that her hands remained steady as she grasped the doorknob and turned.

The door swung open to reveal a purple sky. Clouds drifted by and the moon already began to take its place in the furthest reaches of the sky. Birdsong filled the air and Clarke thought it so very charming and carefree.

But she didn't really register all those things for her gaze fell upon the woman who stood before her. Athena stood in the doorway, her hands held behind her back and her shoulders squared. Though her clothes were very much on the practical side, there was a distinct casualness to them that made Clarke's lips turn into the hints of a smile. If Clarke looked just a little more closely she was sure she could see hints of eye shadow that graced Athena's face, and she was sure she could even spy the subtle sparkle of makeup that ghosted against her cheeks.

"Hey," Clarke said, eyes quick to take in the loosely braided locks of hair tucked behind Athena's ears.

"Clarke," Athena said, her voice quiet, and perhaps just a little shaky.

"Come in," Clarke said as she stepped aside and gestured for Athena to enter.

Athena smiled before stepping inside. Clarke closed the door after her, and as she turned she found Athena taking in the room, from the candles that danced their light to the food and the table that had been set.

"This is lovely, Clarke," Athena said as she turned to face her. "I brought this," she added quickly as she reached her hand out.

Clarke's eyes widened when she saw the bottle of honey mead in Athena's hand, the drink from one of the furthest clans that she had enjoyed years earlier at a meeting with the clans.

"I didn't think you'd remember," Clarke said as she reached out and took the bottle.

"I would not forget," Athena said simply as she turned back to the room's interior to take it in.

Clarke was thankful that Athena didn't seem to notice her blush. Part of Clarke wanted to feel guilty at the whole thing, but the other part, the stronger part, the one that had longed for something more overruled her worries and forced them back into the furthest corners of her mind.

And so Clarke took one last steadying breath before she turned back to Athena who now looked at a painting that hung on the far wall.

"I hope you're hungry," Clarke said, and she found herself smiling as Athena turned back to her with her own smile firmly in place.

"Yes, Clarke," Athena said. "I am."


Clarke had expected to be nervous given her initial state of apprehension. But as the night progressed and as their meal was shared, she found that both her and Athena seemed to fall into an easy rhythm that was equal parts familiar as it was comforting. Conversation seemed to flow from what Clarke did to keep her busy during her time alone and to what Athena's role was now becoming given the relative peace that had fallen over the lands.

Any worries Clarke had had were also chased away by the honey mead Athena had brought with her, the taste sweet and fruity, the drink strong and heady enough to kill any darkening thoughts before they had a chance to form.

As the night progressed, and as more of the honey mead was drunk, Clarke found herself seeing a different side of Athena to what she had ever seen before. Of course Clarke had shared quiet moments with Athena in the past, and at times she had seen parts of Lexa reflected in the woman. But perhaps facing enemies in battle, leading warriors in violence had honed Athena into something different, something more sure and present.

And so, it was with that thought that Clarke found herself smiling as Athena described a rambunctious youth in her army that had fallen off his horse in an attempt to impress another.

Athena fell quiet as she brought her cup to her lips, and Clarke found herself looking into Athena's eyes from where she sat opposite her. The green of Athena's eyes sparkled in the candlelight. Even her hair, as wild and as crimson as it was seemed to dance, to shimmer with each passing moment and Clarke found herself smiling without thought, without worry or care.

"What?" Athena said, and her lips quirked up ever so slightly at the corners as she sipped her drink before setting the cup down on the table.

"Nothing," Clarke said, her mind just a little fuzzy, her thoughts a little unfiltered. "I—" she bit her lip, perhaps to stop a poorly worded thought, perhaps to give herself just a little pain to remind herself she was alive. "You sound like peace will last," Clarke said eventually.

"Yes," Athena answered with a kind smile. "I believe it will," and she leant closer from across the small table. "The clans are cared for, bandits do not cause trouble along our borders, even Skaikru tech is making its way far and wide."

Clarke smiled, the words Athena spoke threatening to bring up old memories.

"I'm proud of you, Athena," Clarke said and she meant it.

Athena seemed to blush at that, she ducked her chin and she looked away as she bit her lip. And for a moment, for just one indescribable moment Clarke almost leant forward, almost reached out and took her hand.

"I try," Athena said as she looked away, and Clarke thought she saw Athena trying to put words to the things that must have been raging in her mind. "I try to live up to her memory," it came as simply as it could, and perhaps time had tempered her pain, perhaps the decade that had passed was enough that she could think of Lexa without her heart aching. And perhaps it was long enough that she should do something more than survive. Isn't that what she had once wanted? Wasn't that what Lexa wanted?

"I miss her," Clarke didn't mean to blurt it out, but the drink must have crumbled her defences. Athena seemed to grow a little closer then, her hand lingered somewhere atop the table and Clarke fought to keep her own hand in its place. "Do you see her?" Clarke asked, and her voice came out so very quiet.

Athena paused, and for a moment Clarke thought she overstepped some unseen boundary, and then, "yes," Athena whispered so very quietly, her eyes guarded, her expression somewhere between pained and full of want and longing. "Every time I close my eyes the Commanders speak to me," Athena said. and as Clarke lost herself in Athena's words she felt her hand reaching out ever so slowly, in part to steady her own unsteadiness, perhaps to bring whatever connection she felt with Athena closer to home. "Clarke," Athena whispered her name quietly as her fingers brushed against hers, and Clarke didn't know what to say, not when Athena said her name in that same way. She didn't know what to do when Athena's voice seemed to vibrate into her core and bury itself so very deep into her beating heart. "She is proud of you, Clarke," Athena said gently.

Clarke looked away then, but she found that her hand remained held in Athena's, she found that she dared not move it. Part of her hated hearing the things Athena said, part of her wanted to hear more, to know more than she ever could.

"I am proud of you, Clarke."

Her gaze snapped back to Athena to find her eyes wide and so open to her in that moment. In that moment Clarke decided to throw caution to the wind, she decided to do whatever she had once dared not do, if only because it could have sent her spiralling down a path she could never turn back from.

"Do you have her memories?" Clarke asked, and she didn't know what she wanted to hear.

"Yes," Athena said, and it came out a broken whisper.

"Do you feel the things she felt?" Clarke asked, and she found herself hoping and praying for an answer. But she didn't quite know which one she wanted to hear.

"I feel everything," Athena whispered, and she closed her eyes, and Clarke wasn't surprised to see a single tear escape down her cheek. And it tore at something deep within her core, it made her want to crumble, to shatter, to coalesce into something more and something lost. "Every hate," Athena whispered. "Every loss. Every regret, every hurt. Every want and need."

"Every love?" Clarke asked.

"Every love," Athena affirmed so quietly Clarke thought she imagined it. "Every pleasure and every pain."

"Do—" Clarke paused, looked away and tried to see an out to the conversation she had thrown herself down. But if she was brutally honest with herself she was committed, she was sure, concrete in her desires in that very moment. And almost nothing could sway her. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Yes," Athena answered. "I remember waking—"

"No," Clarke shook her head and looked back at Athena to see an emotion she knew to be reflected within her own eyes. "Not then."

Athena's intake of breath seemed sharp and gentle at the same time, but it was answer enough for Clarke.

"Do you remember the Pauna?" Clarke asked, and Athena answered her with a single nod. "Do you remember turning your back on me at the Mountain?" Clarke's own voice had grown so quiet that she didn't know if Athena even heard her anymore.

"It was my greatest regret," Athena whispered. "Above all other things."

"We lost so much time," Clarke said and she tried to fight the tears that began to fill her vision. "We lost months we could have shared together."

"I know."

Athena's words, her acceptance and her understanding gave Clarke more than she ever thought could be given in two simple words. But it was an acknowledgement that things had been felt by her and by Lexa, it was an acknowledgement that things could have been happy, could have been so full of love and life. If only they had turned out just a little different.

"Do you remember the tent?" Clarke asked, but she didn't need to ask, she didn't need to know the answer.

"I remember you threatening Ryder," Athena said quietly, her gaze never wavering. "I remember you demanding Octavia be free from harm," Athena's eyes were so full of longing that it made Clarke's heart bleed more than she thought possible. "I remember you returning, I remember you pushing me back, cornering me, threatening my space."

"Like this?" Clarke asked as she leant forward slightly, and her voice was so low, so quiet it seemed more breath than sound. "What do you remember next?"

"I remember the fire in your eyes," Athena answered, her own voice just as quiet. "I remember the uncertainties and fears."

"What next?" Clarke dared not say more as she found herself leaning forward even further, close enough that she could count the freckles upon Athena's cheeks, close enough that she would soon lose herself in the green of her eyes.

"I remember this," Athena whispered as her hand came up and brushed the side of Clarke's face.

And Clarke leant into the touch, she found herself falling into its warmth and its presence and she didn't want to lose it, she didn't want to run away anymore than she had already done in her life.

"Do you remember this?"

Clarke's eyes remained open long enough that she could see the fear, the apprehension, the longing and the want within the green eyes that stared back at her. And then, as Athena's breath ghosted against her lips Clarke's eyes closed.

At first the kiss was timid, it was uncertain and full of pain and longing and hopelessness. Clarke's lips met little resistance at first, Athena's hand remained held against the side of her face and as Clarke chased just as much as Athena fled, she found herself wanting more, she found herself needing mor—

But then Athena change, her uncertainties fell away and Clarke tried to suppress a gasp as Athena rushed forward, as her other hand came up and cradled the side of her neck, as its warmth flushed through her body and Clarke needed it. Athena kissed her with violence, with need, with so much longing that Clarke could do nothing but submit completely. She didn't want anything less, she didn't need anything more than to know that Athena felt the same.

And so Clarke pressed forward, she ignored a cup that fell to the floor, she ignored the drink that splashed upon the fur carpet and she stood, her lips trapped against Athena's flesh as Athena found her way to her feet until they came together in a tangle of limbs and want and emotions so deeply trapped Clarke didn't know how they had survived so long apart.

Clarke felt wetness upon her cheek, and she recognised it as tears, as pain and years of loss, but she knew not whose tears they were. She didn't care. Athena didn't care either from the way one of her hands move from the side of her face and to her hip. Her fingers splayed against her flesh and anchored them together as they continued to fight for pleasure and breath and lust.

"Clarke," Athena gasped into her mouth, her name more felt than heard.

Clarke whimpered as Athena's lips slipped from hers and attacked her jaw, as they bruised her sensitive skin and began to press deeper and deeper into her neck in search of something more than surface deep.

Clarke didn't know if she moaned Athena's name or if she imagined she did. But perhaps it didn't matter when one of Athena's hands gripped her closer, pulled them so tightly together that Clarke couldn't breathe, she couldn't feel anything but the body against hers. But that wasn't enough, it wasn't enough that Athena still wore a frustratingly thick shirt.

And so she snarled, she reached up and she tried to find an opening, she tried to find a button, a knot, a string to pull and a collar to open. And Clarke smiled as finger found flesh, as want found purchase and as—

Something changed then.

Clarke didn't know what it was or why it happened but something seemed to shift and it took her a moment to realise. Athena remained pressed against her, the woman's face tucked into her neck. But there was a stiffness, a forcefulness and something wrong.

"Athena?" Clarke asked as she untangled herself from the other woman.

What Clarke saw shocked her, it made her heart freeze and it made her want to scream out into the world. Life was unfair, it was unkind, and for some reason it seemed to taunt her, it seemed to take pleasure in her pain, in her suffering and in her hurt.

"What's wrong?" Clarke whispered for she didn't know what else she could say.

Athena's eyes were shut so tightly that her face seemed to contort, tears streamed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

And then she fell.

Athena fell to her knees and Clarke gasped, she reached out to break her fall but all that happened was that she found herself pulled down with her.

Clarke called Athena's name again, and this time panic started to set in, this time fear began to prickle at her skin and this time there was uncertainties and confusion.

"I love you," Athena whispered, her voice broken, her voice shattered and full of truth. "I love you, Clarke," Athena said as her eyes opened. "I love you with all of my heart."

Clarke didn't know what to say, she didn't how to respond.

"Every day I wake and I tell myself I must not. Every day I force myself to accept my love is not mine to have," and she shook her head so violently that strands of red hair broke free from their place. "But I love you."

"Athena," Clarke whispered, a hand coming to take hold of Athena's own hand only for her to pull it away violently.

"Lexa loves you," Athena whispered. "She loves you."

"I—" Clarke didn't know what to say.

Athena pressed forward then, her hands came up and cradled Clarke's face as she pressed their lips together with so much passion, so much longing and want that Clarke couldn't think, couldn't understand more than emotion and memory.

And then Athena broke their kiss, and as Clarke's vision settled on her, she found Athena's face full of loss, full of hope, of pain and fear and love.

"Please," Athena whispered. "I love you, Clarke. I share every memory, I share every emotion, every moment we spent together in Polis. I have every regret and every want that was ever ours to have," by now her voice was a broken mess of breath and tears and emotion, but still Clarke somehow managed to piece together enough to understand.

But then that all changed.

"I love you, Clarke," Athena begged quietly. "Please remember that."

"What's wrong, Athena?" Clarke whispered.

"Lexa is alive."