Author's Note: Yes, we skipped the update for the day after Christmas, forgive us. OneKast was busy and I was filling out Christmas prompts.
But, I am REALLY, REALLY, excited for this chapter because things are finally picking up pace… and also because maybe, just maybe, we rewrote it like six times to get it right.
Polis was full of so much energy, she didn't know what to do, Clarke thought with a grimace. It was such a big difference from the woods in which she had survived the past few months. The woods that she had felt suffocated and guilty in. The chatter of townsfolk reminded her of the happy and carefree atmosphere in Mount Weather. She had destroyed all of it with just a pull of a lever. All those lives, just gone.
As they walked Carol pointed interesting things out, like different wares and treats. Clarke drifts towards the faint music from one of the tent-like shops. They made their way to the table that was playing the music. Her heart started feeling a little lighter.
Her eyes gazed at the table trying to find something that catches her eye. The seller behind the table tilts her head, "Na ai sis au yu, Wanheda?"
Clarke's eyes shot up and she locked them with the woman behind the table. She had no idea what was just said. In the end she settled for a shake of her head as a response. Clarke bit her lower lip and stepped away from the table, not knowing what else to do. Her head was starting to spin at the title.
Except instead the woman got up and pushed an intricately carved dagger into her hands, talking away in rapidfire Trigedasleng as Clarke tried to shake her head and refuse the gift. There was a reverence in the woman's eyes that sent a chill down Clarke's spine.
Clarke thanked anybody who was listening when Carol stepped in and accepted the gift for her. When the now crying woman finally left to go back to manning her stall, Carol handed the dagger to Clarke with a small smile. "She said her son was captured by the maunon (mountain men) and turned into a ripa (reaper), and had asked the Commander for a picture of the legendary Commander of Death who had freed her son so she could thank her specially. Take it. It's yours to keep."
With shaking hands, Clarke takes the dagger. The weight of the glinting bejeweled dagger feels wrong in her hands. To get rewarded for her biggest regret felt like injustice. "Legendary…?"
Carol chuckled, "My dear, Wanheda is a legend here. It is said she possesses a spirit equal or even greater than the flame itself."
Clarke looks at the dagger again, the weight suddenly heavier than ever. It makes her want to puke. She shoves the dagger into an inner pocket of her cloak. At least that way she can't see it.
Carol kept an arm around her, allowing Clarke to lean her weight onto the older woman. Ava followed closely behind the two, not saying anything but keeping an eye out for any danger. As they walked away, Carol avidly babbled away about the wonders of Polis. Pride lined her words. Clarke kept her head down trying to make as little eye contact with people as possible. Clarke supposed she was lucky that with her hood up, most people couldn't recognize her. Of course, Clarke had picked up on the legend she had become, but she hadn't thought that she could possibly have that much influence on these people.
She could hear the crunching of the leaves under her foot as she took each step. The bustling screams of children whirled past her. Clarke tried her best to shun it out, that was until she was stopped abruptly by a child passing by.
Clarke's eyes shot up quickly, the boy in front of her was no older than seven. His hair was a dark brown, and was down to his shoulders, pulled back by a braid running down the side of his head. He looked up at Clarke and she couldn't help giving him a small smile.
He smiled brightly back at Clarke and she immediately felt a warm feeling start to fester in her heart. It was something unlike anything she felt since her arrival in Polis or even the ground in general. She felt some of her anger melt away at the moment she had between her and this little boy.
"Miya!" A deep voice grumbled and the boy ran off towards the owner of the voice and hugged the man's legs. She watched as the man grabbed his son's hand with an affectionate hair ruffle, and they made their way into a nearby shop.
It reminded her of how she would greet Jake when he came home from work in the evenings. The world was so carefree it was jarring. The talk of war didn't reach this peaceful haven. She suddenly realized this is exactly what she strived to create. From the heavenly baked goods she tried, to the amazing street musicians and artists. She was in awe of the amount of sheer skill in everyone's work. These were things that were never on the ark because they weren't necessary. The Ark may have been home and better than the constant war they found on the ground, but it was nothing compared to this. This world was alive and she saw for once, what she wanted for what remained of the Ark.
-0-
A familiar hawk swooped itself through the open window, slicing through the night air with ease as it landed on the perch situated next to Lexa's desk. Lexa smiles and puts down the report she was reading. The hawk tilt's its head into her hand when she reaches to pet it. The dim lighting cast shadows over her face that exaggerated the tired lines. Lexa grabs a strip of meat from her still untouched dinner plate and tosses it at the hawk. She catches it easily.
Eagerly, Lexa unties the small rolled up piece of paper from the hawk's leg and unfolds it. She leans back in her chair as she reads, the candles that serve a dual purpose of light and just because the sheer amount of them, heat to ward off the chilly night air as well, illuminating the paper and her face.
Dear Defender of Mankind,
Titus has always been uptight like that. You're the only one who could ever get him to change his mind. It helped that you were his favorite. Of course you could always come to me, but you would never run away like that. Not like me.
It is not easy for one to forgive, but you cannot afford to forget that not everyone is like us. The girl you speak of has a right to be angry. As for your concern over how irrational you become concerning the girl, you were always like that. Even back when it was Cos you were smitten with and there was Titus, Anya, and Gustus to scold you.
I'm no love guru, I'm not sure what to tell you. If you're really that concerned though, maybe letting go is the best thing you could do. It seems like even a professional relationship is hurting both of you.
Just so you don't ask this pointlessly in your return letter, no I have not found a "new companion in bed" as you phrase it. I've never had one and never needed one. If you were out here with the ocean winds streaming through your hair I'm sure you would understand too. Peace gets addictive. It might just be turning me soft. You won't ever beat me in a spar though.
Don't forget to feed Yaretzi
-The Moon
Lexa chuckles softly at the end of the letter. They both knew there was no way she was turning soft. This woman may be unreadable, but she had also taught Lexa to be accepting, that maybe war wasn't everything in this world. Sometimes Lexa thought perhaps she was the only one in the Coalition who believed it other than herself.
After feeding Yaretzi a few more strips of meat, she picks up her pen and a piece of paper and starts writing back.
Dear the Moon…
-0-
Clarke's nerves were starting to fray. Carol and Ava were wonderful company, but it was obvious they were under orders to spend all their time keeping an eye on Clarke in rotation. The fact that Lexa had tried to hide her guards under the guise of people helping her made her even more angry inside. She was tired of being treated like a child.
Of course, the amazing hot chocolates, coffee, teas, cookies, and all the sweet treats and savory meals Clarke had never gotten on the Ark helped to dissuade that notion. However, it wasn't long until she noticed that it was practically impossible that she would coincidentally not bump into Lexa at all for an entire two weeks. Heck, she'd even walked into a scowling Titus once, and Titus never wanted to see her.
At first, Clarke was sure she was being kept to be used, but after two weeks she realized Lexa didn't even intend to do that. So when Carol suggested another day of exploring the markets, and Ava suggested yet another chess game Clarke snapped. "Again? I bet Lexa's telling you guys to stick to certain activities isn't she?"
The silence as Carol and Ava stared back was revealing. It was the confirmation of something Clarke hadn't wanted to know. Of course she'd guessed on the inside, but their silence, the actual confirmation of it was something she wasn't ready for.
As angrily as she possibly could with her broken rib, Clarke stormed out of the door and walked the opposite way of the market they frequented every day. She walked, and walked. Through her pained breaths, she heard Ava trailing not-so-discreetly behind her. The path went from stone to dirt, and then grass and moss started covering it. If only to ease her pain, Clarke slowed down.
A few steps later, she reaches the top of the hill she was ascending. She stands at the top of a small training arena, ringed in a semicircle of doubly functioning seats as well as stairs. The other end dropped off onto a cliff over a wall. In the middle was Lexa, sparring with a sandy haired boy furiously.
Her braids whipped around her, hands spinning nimbly with her body. Her warpaint accentuated her chiseled cheeks, a sheen of sweat making her already tight clothes stick even tighter to her. Lexa was a whirlwind, furiously beautiful, if only you knew how to look for the beauty within. Her weapon moved faster than Clarke's eyes could follow. All the children who had been training in pairs beforehand were now watched with a bated breath like Clarke.
But then the boy found a way in through Lexa's defenses and Lexa teetered a stride backward before catching herself. Clarke took half a step forward before she could stop. Everyone in the proximity held their breath, waiting for the Heda's next move. A stunned expression colored Lexa's features, but then a most breathtaking pride bloomed on her face. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and the boy returned a grin. "Os job, Aden."
The children exploded forth with cheers, throwing the boy onto their shoulders, Lexa joining in to hoist him up, encouraging them in their childish antics. In this moment, Clarke had trouble remembering her anger. In front of her was Lexa, purely just Lexa; the person she was without Heda. The person who had been on the verge of tears when Clarke had backed her into the table in that tent. The person who had defied everything she had known when she kissed Clarke. The person who had invited Clarke to Polis with her when everything was done.
It was so hard to reconcile this person with the coldhearted commander who told her she did what she needed to be done. How dare Lexa smile like that at these children as if nothing was wrong in the world after what she had done? How could she when Clarke was plagued with nightmares every night, every time she closed her eyes, every time she saw a happy family? If only she could free herself of all these burdens, free all of Arkadia from the Commander's everlasting grasp. In fact, she could do it right now...
End Note:
The name Lexa means the Defender of Mankind, so I used that as her alias. Hopefully you all know where I'm going with this.
According to google Yaretzi means "you will always be loved".
Trigedasleng:
Na ai sis au yu?- Can I help/assist you?
Miya!- Come here!
Os job - Well done
