i have no excuse. and i know you won't forgive me for this chapter either.

now, read, ponder, and enjoy!

Growing up, Lexa was ingrained with two lessons by her parents. These two pieces of advice walked, ran, lost, fought, and went to war with her. People usually forgot their parents' advices, and she was one of those. She couldn't really say if she could recall all the advices that her parents had imparted upon her, but for some reason, she remembered this two since the moment she heard them.

"You have the opportunity to make a difference in the world and in yourself. Remember your responsibilities, and make your day meaningful," Queen Storme had told her the night before she was supposed to ship out to her first posting and leave her family behind for the longest time she had ever been apart from them.

"All you have to do is put on your running shoes and let the front door shut behind you," King Richmond had said when he woke her up in the middle of the night on her 14th birthday and drove her out to another town so she could have a chance to visit the house her great-grandfather had died in – of course, he did tell his wife first.

Well.

She made a difference. She tried. She came out and became the first out and proud lesbian princess ever. She participated in the LGBTQ+ movements locally and overseas, put her name out there, and let media run its course. She enlisted and went to war. She almost died and came back with a bum leg. She kind of broke protocol and got herself a meeting with the Veterans' Agency and Defense Department to run her own program. She fell in love.

The only caveat she had with all the things she had done was the one promise she had ever asked from her parents: avoid politicizing her work and refrain from sensationalizing her. And…that caveat was broken the second they agreed with Jaha and basically commanded her to get on a plane and go to Libya.

So then, she put on her running shoes, the front door closed behind her with a loud bang, and she ran. Far away from the palace. Far away from the city. To an isolated campsite with a woman she had fallen in love with, irrevocably and deeply. Lexa would go to war for Clarke Griffin, she decided, every second she looked at the blonde and rediscovered how fortunate she was to have even met someone as understanding and intelligent as the doctor.

Even though the doctor had yet to tell her she loved her back. Not that Lexa minded. Okay, Lexa minded a bit, but as a soldier, she had learnt patience and everything that came with it. She wasn't going to rush Clarke into anything – hell, if Clarke realized she didn't love Lexa as much as she did her and wanted to break up, Lexa would do it in a heartbeat.

She loved Clarke enough to be willing to give her anything, even at the cost of her own heart.

"Didn't I tell you that you can stay away for as long as you want on the condition that you come back?" Anya asked her as they sat inside the limousine, watching as the engineers ticked things off their checklist while investigating the jet. Gustus had already gone on to do the security checklist.

"And I came back."

"Just in time for the trip that you were so hellbent against going."

Lexa kept her eyes closed, head tilted back against the headrest. She had only just left Clarke's apartment last night, but if there a way to pack Clarke into a bag and bring her to Libya without risking her life, the princess would do it in a heartbeat.

Technically, she hadn't lied to Clarke; she had only omitted certain aspects of the trip to Libya, like the fact that a majority of it was a warzone and she was flying to the combined base of the US and Polis. And any soldier knew that if it was a US base, then there was a 50% chance that anyone would get blown to smithereens.

"I remembered that I'm a princess," Lexa faintly muttered.

Anya hummed. "I'm convincing dad to fire Jaha."

Lexa's eyes opened and she shot up straight, almost knocking her head on the roof of the limo. "You can't." Her sister was in the same position she had been in, head against the headrest and eyes closed, almost serene. "Anya, you can't. He's the king. He, more than anyone, has a responsibility to uphold the law of the land, and the law says no member of the royalty is allowed to interfere in the structure of the ministerial makeup. You can't ask –"

"Jesus, Lexa, I know. I'm the one with the law degree here," Anya snapped, opening her eyes as well, scowling. "You seem very defensive of our father's kingship for someone who's very pissed at him," she remarked with a cocked eyebrow.

"I don't wanna hear it."

"Lexa –"

"They broke their promise."

"I know."

"And I still can't forgive them for that. For always reminding me of my so-called birthright. For thinking that I will always be strong and relenting just because I never complain about the household and barely ever interfere in family stuff or, hell, governmental issues."

"I know."

"Mom specifically asked me if I wanted to go back and I specifically told her that no, I do not want to go back. For the first time since I've come back, I don't want to go back. I want to stay here. With you. With them. With Clarke. With the people I love."

"I know."

"But I –" Lexa sighed, suddenly finding herself lost for words. She shifted her gaze over to the jet and saw the head engineer heading their way with a polite smile on his face. She missed Clarke. "He's dad and she's mom," she finally relented, her hand reaching for the handle and opening it, smoothening her face in an instance, like a royal should do. She stepped out before Anya could respond and shook the engineer's head. "Thank you very much, sir," she greeted with a polite smile of her own.

The engineer chuckled nervously and gulped, shaking her hand almost too vigorously, but she let him anyway. "It was my pleasure, Your Highness," he replied. "All the best and have a safe trip, Your Highness."

"Thank you, sir." She withdrew her hand back as swiftly and smoothly as she could, just as practiced, because there were always overeager people wanting to meet the royals. The only one who hadn't seemed overeager to meet her was the doctor who saved her life.

As soon as the engineer stepped away, Anya sidled up next to her, greeting the engineer herself. As the third in line for the throne, Lexa had the least obligation to serve and be courteous, but she did it anyway, because she was raised to be good and responsible. As first in line, Anya was the one who had the most metaphoric weight on her shoulders. Even when she wasn't in the mood for it, the public deserved it.

Lexa would never pretend that her sister had it easier in being born into this royal family. Sometimes, it was fortune. Sometimes, it was just…because.

They made their way to the jet, the noise getting louder and louder as distance decreased. Just before it would get unbearably loud – Lexa had learnt to adjust from her time as a soldier and the amount of times she had to board a lousy military aircraft – she stopped in her tracks, alongside her sister.

"Take care of Aden and Lincoln," she pleaded.

"Not our parents?"

Lexa heaved an exaggeratedly exhausted sigh, shrugging. "If you have to."

Anya chuckled, almost inaudible in the strong winds and the jet engines. She extended her arms and wrapped them around her sister, a hug she accepted willingly. "What about Clarke?" Anya asked in her ear, her arms unrelenting around her younger sister.

The brunette's heart leaped a little at the mention of her girlfriend. One day, soon, she would bring Clarke to meet her family, if the blonde ever wanted that. "She can take care of herself." She tightened her own arms as well. "If anything happens –"

"Nothing's going to happen. It's a diplomatic trip."

Lexa could easily list off the number of people who had either gotten injured or actually died from diplomatic missions, most of them in places much safer than Libya, but she figured Anya would probably have a better grasp on the number than she did. So, instead, she just hummed and stepped back to look at the other woman.

Maybe it was the look on her face, a little too serious and a little too concerned, because Anya just relented with a sigh. "I'll make sure everyone's taken care of, even Clarke."

"Thank you."

"Don't think I don't know that you have a will written," Anya commented, throwing her a glare.

Lexa shrugged and took a few more steps back, slowly but surely. "You know I like to be prepared," she said as the noise inserted more barriers between them.

"How much do I get?"

"I'll have to die for you to find out."

"That is not funny!"

Forcing a grin on her face, Lexa lifted her arm in a nonchalant wave before spinning around to complete the short trek to the jet. She nodded at all the troops who were lined up at the stairs to welcome her, finding herself oddly missing her own time as one of these troops, dressed to the nines in her uniform, saluting her father.

Once upon a time, she forgot her roots by pretending to be humble, a mere soldier fighting for her country. At the end of the day, there was no escaping the fact that she was a princess, a member of the royal family, a person who these soldiers were supposed to protect with their lives and blood. She was a woman with the weight of a country on her shoulders.

When she had reached the top of the stairs, she turned back around and saluted – to the soldiers and to the heir to the Polisian throne. Her sister, who had never been to the warzone or even knew the slightest about military customaries, saluted back. It was wobbly and with the wrong hand, but she tried. Lexa smiled and went inside the body of the jet, making her way to one of the comfortable seats and collapsing in it.

Her phone buzzed and she held up a finger to the pilot who had come out of the cockpit.

"Hey," she greeted with a natural smile on her face.

"Oh good, you haven't taken off yet," Clarke said with audible relief in her voice.

"I'm about to." The brunette looked outside the window to find the limo driving away and the soldiers dispersing. She didn't know what she wanted more – to be back in the limo or chatting with the soldiers. "What's up?" she asked.

"I love you."

Lexa's heart stopped. She blinked owlishly at the pilot, who was still hovering by the cockpit entrance, a little caught off guard by the princess staring at him. Her hand tightened on the armrest of her seat. She knew what she wanted more than anything now: to be back in the limo and driving to the nondescript apartment building she had grown to love.

"I'm sorry it took me so long. It's just – I'm not really used to being loved by royalty."

Lexa raised her brow, hearing the evident nervousness clouding Clarke's voice. "Do many royalties fall in love with you?" she said, low enough for the pilot to not hear her words. When she heard Clarke click her tongue and huff through the phone, she knew she'd succeeded. "Only took you three days," she teased.

"You're a terrible human being."

"But you love me anyway?" She couldn't help the hint of insecurity sneaking into her voice as she said that. The last time someone said she'd loved her, she fled at the first sign of trouble. Lexa had learned her lesson.

There was a moment of silence, as they were both left pondering. One was stuck in a corporate situation with the law, the other had duties she couldn't shirk unless she wanted to create a constitutional crisis. Falling in love was difficult – her father was right in that regard. But then again, she had also seen the way her parents acted around one another. So maybe falling in love wasn't that difficult. Lexa just had to learn the ropes.

"I don't think there's any way for me to not," Clarke said softly, lovingly.

Lexa didn't think she had ever grinned so big, she was so sure she was scaring the pilot. "You know I'm going to eat you up when I get back, right?"

This time, Clarke's voice turned so husky that Lexa got goosebumps. "I wouldn't want it any other way." Lexa sucked in a sharp breath, eliciting a laugh from the doctor. "I should let you go. Royalties should always be punctual. I love you."

Yeah, that sounded amazing. Warm as fuck. Lexa was eager to just jump off the jet and hail a cab so she could eat Clarke up right away.

"I love you too."

That would have to wait. Service Day would pass quickly.

The base was in a different location, next to a bigger province than the ones she'd been to, packed and equipped. She supposed that was the thing about having a government that was willing to dispense more money into its defense than actually help the people.

But Libya was Libya – it was home to her for at least one year and a half. Apart from the constant paranoia and the IED that could have killed her, she loved Libya. It was, by all means, a beautiful place. The people were friendly and kind once they'd learned that she understood and could speak Libyan Arabic. So many times while she had been stationed here, she had been graced with soup and local delicacies on special occasions. When it was her turn to do the patrols, she would always spare at least half an hour to play some soccer with the kids.

The only thing that these Libyans asked of the foreigners with the guns and the tanks on their lands was to not aggravate them and pointlessly threaten them. When Lexa was leading her soldiers at the time, she had made sure to explain their intentions at all times so they could keep safe in case of any unwarranted irritation with the insurgents.

That was when she was still a soldier, a commander with her own troops.

Now, she was simply a princess visiting a base shared between her countrymen and Americans. She didn't have any authority over the Americans and only a marginal influence over Polisian soldiers. She landed in a nearby airstrip in Libya and was greeted by an array of soldiers, Polisian and Americans alike – and she wasn't sure if she liked it.

The Polisians were fine. They knew her from her time as a commander, most of them she'd even been in the same infantry with. Since before her retirement, they'd already built a camaraderie that would remain forever, because they were soldiers and no one understood them like each other.

It was the Americans that bothered her. Of course, they were larger with better artillery and improved equipment that Polis could only dream of achieving, but they had it all at the price of something much bigger, something that her father would never even deem to sacrifice. Except these soldiers didn't seem to realize that. Somehow, their nationality had seemed to give them a license to be…smug and a little unhinged.

Lexa's gaze stayed focused on the American squad making its patrol around a village to the east of the base, grimacing all the way as the soldiers brashly knocked the butts of their rifles against doors and barked their orders in English even though they knew fully well that these people didn't understand a smidgeon of English. A big part of her wanted to intervene, but sovereignty and duty stopped her from doing so.

"They're animals," the Polisian staff sergeant told her, grimacing himself as well. "I understand the Prime Minister had no choice but to accommodate the Americans on the same base as us because we have need of their equipment. But they are animals."

"We are what we are," Lexa responded quietly.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Lexa slowly but surely drifted away from the chow hall to get a piece of quiet, her phone to her ear. "I told you I'd call you."

Clarke hummed. "Yeah, but you're in Libya, and I remember how bad the signal can get there."

"Oh, you have no idea."

The princess had tried to wave her phone in the air like a lunatic for fifteen minutes to try to get even half a bar. When that didn't happen, she had to approach the staff sergeant and asked whether she could borrow a SAT phone for ten minutes, just so she could hear the voice of the love of her life – of course, that last part she didn't tell him, although he obviously knew from the look in his eyes when he handed the device over.

"We only have fifteen minutes to talk before I have to return the SAT phone to the sergeant," she told her girlfriend regrettably.

"That's better than nothing," Clarke lamented. "It's maddening how much I miss you."

"Should I be flattered?"

"No, you should tell me you miss me more."

The brunette chuckled and threw a thumb up at a passing soldier, who saluted her in return and went into the chow hall for his own meal. She had come out of the chow hall as soon as the SAT phone finally made a connection and she heard Clarke's voice, food half eaten and most likely growing cold in her wake.

"I miss you a lot more than you know," she whispered.

"No hot muscly girls over there to attract your attention?"

Lexa shook her head, though she knew Clarke wouldn't be able to see her movement anyway. "There's some, but I can't keep this pretty blonde doctor off my mind. Any idea how to fix that?"

"No fix. Keep her in your mind."

Lexa hummed and glanced up at the barely there moon. "I think I will."

Polis might make a big deal out of Service Day. There was fanfare and great speeches from the Prime Minister and the King. Some people gathered in bars to drink to their loved ones stationed overseas, while some visited cemeteries to remember their service. But the soldiers, especially those stationed overseas, would wake up in the morning, clasped each other's forearm with a laugh, and go on.

Just as what Lexa had woken up to today. She walked out of her specially set up tent to see the Polisians passing each other, clasping forearms and laughing with each other, and heading to their tasks next. To Lexa, this was what Service Day was about – a day for the soldiers to be able to praise each other without ego getting in the way, to understand one's own contribution without getting their egos inflated.

This time, it was a little different, because a princess was in their midst. As soon as they were ready, the Polisian soldiers marched up in a uniform line, and Lexa clasped each of their forearm with a sincere smile. She had seen firsthand their contributions to Polis and sometimes even the world when they rebelled against some of the superpowers to keep their dignities intact.

After having clasped each of their forearm, Lexa volunteered to get changed and head out to another village with the patrol team, along with Gustus, of course. Not as a commander, but a private. She wasn't even carrying a rifle, just a handgun. Look, she may have found roots back home with her family and a person she was determined to stay with for the rest of her life, but she would be lying if she said she didn't miss this kind of teamwork in the least.

"Any chance you'll ever come back into the fray, Your Highness?" the staff sergeant asked with a teasing grin.

Lexa chuckled and patted the cane next to her with a bittersweet smile. "Afraid not, sergeant." She looked out the window at the sandy dunes and unrefined pavements. "Besides, I've got a girl back home now."

All the other soldiers in the vehicle looked at her, save for the driver, but Lexa could tell that she was intrigued by the way her eyes kept drifting to the rearview mirror. Oh well, if there was anyone to tell, it was these people. No one kept secrets better than soldiers, who had grown prone to overhearing state secrets and keeping their mouths shut.

"Alright, what do you wanna know?" she said after a sigh, smiling as she voiced the question.

And then, like the messy people they were, all of the occupants in the vehicle immediately bombarded her with mountains of questions, overlapping over one another with no regard for uniformity and manners. These were military men, after all. She wouldn't have it any other way.

Libya was dangerous, especially where war torn villages and ravaged military bases were concerned. Lexa boarded the plane knowing this, which was the reason why she had chosen to omit some information from her siblings and her girlfriend when they had talked about her trip. She was used to the danger, the constant need to look over your shoulders and be extra aware of where your feet went – they didn't.

But despite having already fully grasped the volatility of a warzone, she was, for the first time, rather optimistic. And that optimism came to bite her in the ass ten minutes into their arrival at the village, teaching her loudly and violently that optimism did not have any place when they were wearing fatigues and carrying rifles into territories known for hidden insurgents.

She knelt behind a weak ledge with the staff sergeant, Gustus, and one other private; the rest had gone to hide out on their own. The ledge was weak and wouldn't hold for long, as rapid bullets fired over their heads and whizzed into the houses, tearing apart debris and bricks as they went. Lexa would have cared, but like any other soldier, she had to save her own hide first; she wouldn't be useful to anyone dead. God, she was so glad Polis had outlawed military grade weapons.

She rested back against the ledge, closing her eyes at the roaring ache tearing up her leg. Her cane had long been abandoned the moment they'd noticed the unusual quietness of the village and the familiarity of it all – Lexa had experienced something of the sort before one of her comrades had stepped on an IED and blew himself up until kingdom come. And yet, the PTSD didn't come. Her heart was, for once, calm and collected. Her brain was not firing off in every direction with bright colors. Despite the gunfire and the chaotic situation they had found themselves in, she was...cool.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment. Maybe she had mistook her clinging to this life. Regardless, she appreciated the reprieve until this came to an end. She could get a PTSD attack after. God, Niylah would probably lose her composure after realizing what happened here.

"Your Highness –"

"There are literally insurgents trying to blow us all to smithereens right now. I think we're well-past titles," she quipped, smiling at herself for her brazenness. She willed herself through the pain, thinking that Clarke would kill her by the time she returned if she didn't die here, and glanced at the staff sergeant. "What's the plan, sergeant?"

He blinked at her for a moment before a reluctant smile tripped across his expression. "You're the commander here, Commander," he remarked.

She huffed with a laugh. This was unbelievably thrilling, and yet heavy on her shoulders. While running for her life just now, Lexa had managed to clock the positions of the insurgents and estimate the gunfire compared to theirs. They were largely outnumbered, especially considering the possibilities of the insurgents having installed IEDs before the Polisian force's arrival.

She was the Commander.

Looking to Gustus as she reloaded the rifle she had picked up earlier when a fellow soldier went down, she offered a loaded smile. "Tell Clarke I'm sorry, alright?" she said.

He shook his head gruffly. "Tell her yourself, Your Highness."

She shrugged and repositioned herself to face the ledge, ready to open fire at any time. "Didn't you hear? I'm the Commander."

He huffed, totally unhappy with the situation. Who would? They came here with the intention of celebrating Service Day, but here they were, having no choice but to kill more misdirected kids on Service Day. Life had its irony.

"But if I don't, promise me you'll tell her," she said, sobering up as she thought about the pretty blonde doctor back home.

He glared at her, mouth pursed under his thick beard. Without responding to her request, he shifted his position as well. That was as good a promise as any.

"Let's blow them up," he demanded lowly.

She laughed again. This was thrilling.

go ahead. flay me.