first of all, i wanna thank you guys for your kind words in the last chapter. it's kind of nice to know that there are people who can relate to the loss i'm feeling right now. i don't really know if i'll ever get over it - maybe not. i'm not even sure if i'm better, i just miss her really much. but the show's gotta go on, right?

now, read, ponder, and enjoy

Spring had arrived, somehow unnoticed by someone who was usually so attuned to the change of seasons. Lexa probably should have, given that the ache in her knee had dissipated, as if following the cold to the pastures to give her some reprieve. The gardens had become greener, but wetter from melted snow. Even the staff themselves seemed more just cheerful, though they'd always carried an air of deference and pity whenever crossing her path.

The only thing that hadn't taken on a fresh air was her worsened relationship with her parents. Anya and Lincoln had tried to do their best to be the bridge between their stubborn youngest sister and their dutiful parents, but there was only so much they could do. Lexa had also fully understood that things couldn't go on like this, not just because her siblings were stuck in a difficult place between them, but also because despite everything, she loved them and she hated this.

It was spring, but today, the ache was back, only miniscule, though it was felt. She rubbed her knee as she sat in the familiar sitting room in the old townhouse that used to be the kids' playground. She smiled in gratitude when Penelope came in with a tray of tea and snacks, murmuring her thanks when the woman sat down with her on the couch.

"How are you, Your Highness?" Penelope asked, a kind and inquisitive smile on her face.

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Penelope, how many times –"

"Don't bother," Gustus grunted as he leaned against the archway that led to the study. He'd trimmed his beard and cut his hair, but the best part was that his skin was healthier – she'd been concerned. There was a gentle smile on his face, a rare occurrence. "Pen's been calling your father 'Your Majesty' even though they were childhood friends," he air-quoted, pushing away from the archway to make his way towards them.

Ah yes, she had kind of forgotten about that. There was a reason Gustus was so loyal to the family, a reason Penelope was so forgiving of her husband's ventures for them. The history between her parents and this couple was deep, stretching so far back to the moment Richmond and Penelope were toddlers, that sometimes Lexa had a hard time grasping that they were still in each other's lives today.

There was a lot she could learn from these four adults. From fighting tactics to ruling, but the one thing that she had truly admired them for was their capacity for love.

The way her father deeply appreciated and loved two women in his lifetime, but made way for a whole other kind of devotion for her mother once he laid eyes on her, though he was slated to be married to Penelope at one point.

The way Storme had defied her parents' instructions to marry a royal, knowing all the risks and heartache that came with falling in love with a future monarch.

The way Gustus had joined the security detail after being honorably discharged from the army and promptly fell in love with king's fiancée at the time, and swore to stand quietly by her side instead of making a move.

The way Penelope had forgiven Richmond for being emotionally unfaithful and remained his lifelong friend, but also found a brighter path in Gustus as her husband.

She learned how to fight from Gustus, how to be for the people from Richmond, how to read between the lines and understand the law better than anyone else from Storme, and how to be loyal from Penelope. But love, well, she'd learned that from all of them. Then again, a fat lot of good it did her now.

"You're looking better," Lexa commented, smirking at Gustus.

The man chuckled – he was always more relaxed at home – and sat down beside his wife. "I'm returning to duty tomorrow. Don't even say anything." He raised a finger when she opened her mouth to protest. "I've already spoken to your father. Doctor's also cleared me for duty." He clicked his tongue. "I don't trust you to be out there alone."

Knowing that Gustus was a hard-headed man and there was no way to persuade him to just retire, Lexa rolled her eyes and directed her attention to Penelope. "I'm sorry that your husband's always looking for ways to be away from you," she remarked, a little sharply for Gustus to hear.

"Oh, don't worry, Your Highness. He makes up for it when he's home," Penelope replied, patting her husband's knee. Lexa blanched at the connotation and shuddered at the thought. "It's good to see you back on your feet, Your Highness." Lexa squinted a little and tilted her head at the cane leaning against the arm of the couch. "There are many ways for one to be back on their feet. You're a strong one, I know it." She smiled at the older woman and nodded in acceptance. Penelope stood up and placed a kiss on Gustus' cheek before saying, "Well, I'll leave you two alone to talk things out. I hope you'll come by again soon, Your Highness."

"Oh, of course. These cookies are to die for." To prove her point, Lexa leaned forward to grab two cookies, munching delightfully at one.

Soon enough, Penelope was out of the house, perhaps making her way to the palace to find companionship in her mother. Gustus and Lexa were left alone in the sitting room, and the wall clock to the east was just being plain annoying in its clicking.

She turned to her loyal bodyguard and found him staring – no, scrutinizing – her. In his eyes, she could spot a hint of irritation and sympathy. He wasn't there to witness her argument with her father at the hospital, but she was certain that he was perceptive enough to know things were bad, especially since Anya was the only one to show up at the hospital to pick them up, regardless of an array of security detail.

"Don't start," she scoffed.

"What?"

"What did he tell you?"

"Who?"

"Look, I'm not done being angry with them, so my father getting you to talk to me won't work. I won't –"

"He didn't ask me to say anything," Gustus cut her off, crossing her arms. She frowned. "They know you're angry, and the truth is they're not used to this kind of cold shoulder from you, but they didn't ask me to say anything. In fact, your father has some kind of idea that you'll come around eventually."

She looked away. "I'm not sure what's there to come around from," she murmured like a petulant child, almost pouting had her mother not teach her to put that habit away ages ago.

"You're being unreasonable."

"Are you seriously taking their side?"

She was ticked off not because of what he said; she was ticked off because deep down, she knew he was right. As a soldier, as a commander, Lexa had always had to make difficult decisions, but the choices she had were often binary and clear cut. Do something and die, or do something and don't die. Sometimes, there was more difficult choice, but her patriotism had always won out in those situations. She was loyal to her people, first and foremost.

Never had she ever felt so torn apart by herself like this instance, because she was loyal to her people, but she was also loyal to Clarke. She wanted Clarke – she didn't need the woman, she hadn't needed anyone since Costia broke up with her and she realized that needing people was just terrible, but she wanted Clarke. Her fingers twitched and her heart pounded and her mind went hazy and she loved Clarke so much that she warred with death itself.

And she didn't know how to reconcile the two sides of her loyalty without breaking down her own identity. Lexa, as she grew and developed and matured, had always been defined by one thing: duty. And the fact was that as much as she didn't like the role she'd been born into, she thoroughly relished in the duties that she had to pull off, the scope of influence she could exert to do good in the world – she wouldn't be able to do the things she had done had she just been a commoner with nothing to her name.

"There's no side to take, Your Highness," Gustus said.

"Oh, for the love of –" She jumped to her feet a little too fast that the ache that had been there since it started raining this morning flared. Her teeth clenched and she couldn't help the loud grunt from escaping her throat, but she held up a hand to stop Gustus from approaching her. "You and your damn wife," she complained quietly, shaking her head.

He was quiet for a moment. "I knew I didn't like her for a reason," he finally said.

"Come off it. You had no idea what to do with Clarke to even begin to know that you don't like her. And you like her just fine. No one challenges me like she does," she added.

"I don't like her for breaking your heart," he settled.

She considered his words and could only shrug. "You get that, I guess." When the flare dissipated, she straightened herself and grabbed the cane to prop herself up before she fell to a heap. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gus."

He nodded. "Yes, you will."

Lexa (1:35a.m.): You called Niylah.

Clarke (1:46a.m.): i dont regret it
Clarke (1:46a.m.): it was a lot n i needed a friend n she was the best person 4 it

Lexa (1:46a.m.): Did she tell you to break up with me?

Clarke (1:48a.m.): no

Lexa (1:49a.m.): What did she tell you?

Clarke (1:53a.m.): thats nt how this wrks lexa
Clarke (1:53a.m.): she hd ntg 2 do w it i made the decision on my own
Clarke (1:54a.m.): she came 2 the hospital as a friend n ntg more
Clarke (1:55a.m.): look regardless of wat happened i still wan better n uve told me that niylah's been vry effective
Clarke (1:55a.m.): pls dont let w/e happened btween us affect ur progress lexa

Normally, the office would be alerted of her coming by to clear out the place before her arrival – that was the normal procedure for royalty; the public couldn't know about their precious leading family going for therapy, as unconventional as they may be.

But today was different. There were people in the waiting room, making appointments or just done with their sessions and grabbing a snack from the vending machine. All of whom were taken aback when Lexa hobbled out of the elevator, followed closely by her newly restored bodyguard. Their eyes were wide and hands were trembling; their brains had probably stopped working at the sight of a princess showing up at their therapist's office.

Well, the princess couldn't exactly blame them; she had made the final decision to make it to her standing appointment with Niylah only thirty minutes ago. Even the receptionist seemed surprised to see her. Niylah probably thought that Lexa would never return after her walkout last week. Thankfully enough, she had the forthwith to have Rachel print out a set of NDAs just in case, which Gustus had immediately handed out to the people in the waiting room with an intimidating grunt.

"Good afternoon, everyone," she greeted with as friendly a smile as possible. Turning to the receptionist, she asked, "Does my standing appointment still…stand?"

With a hesitating nod, the receptionist pretty much shot into the office, coming out a minute later to nod at Lexa again. "She's waiting for you, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Dinah."

Before entering the office, she turned back to the rest of the room, still gawping at her. She sighed; another disadvantage of being who she was. "Don't mind me. Just getting it fixed," she said with a tap to her temple, eliciting a disapproving huff from Gustus. "Don't bully the people, Gus," she warned, a playful smile on her face. The door swung close behind as she hobbled into the office, where Niylah was sitting behind her desk with a ready but tentative expression on her face. "I'm not gonna bite, Niylah," Lexa sighed, sitting down in front of the desk.

Niylah smiled a little at her remark. "It's good to see you here again, Your Highness."

She hummed, waving her fingers around nonchalantly. "You just want my money."

"Well, a girl's gotta stay in business somehow."

"I'd say you're doing pretty well for yourself, judging by your roster of clients."

The therapist clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "So what can I do for you today, Your Highness?"

"I've been told that I'm being unreasonable for giving my parents the cold shoulder since I came back from Libya."

Niylah stood up and pulled out a file from one of the cabinets behind her – Lexa's file. She thumbed through it, picked up her trusty blue ballpoint pen, and sat back down. "Why don't you tell me more about that?"

And just like that, everything was swept under the rug. Her text conversation with Clarke didn't surface the answer she wanted, a reason for her to completely lay the blame on Niylah and let that be the whole thing, but it was enough, she supposed, if she was here now. After all, even after her walkout last week, she couldn't really blame Clarke for having called Niylah to the hospital that day. Everybody needed somebody, and it was just coincidental that Niylah was the best person for the occasion at that moment.

Plus, for someone who had resisted therapy as much as she did before, it would be unfair to deny that Niylah's services did do her a lot of good in the long run. And she didn't trust anyone else enough to do the same thing, because the truth was that even when she had come here in the first place, it was only because she trusted in Clarke's opinion of Niylah. By virtue, Lexa only trusted Niylah for her to unload all her burdens on.

There was something to be discussed about that, that it's a story for another session.

Sooner or later, Lexa would grow more than impatient with the state of restfulness that Wells had relegated her to. He had been coming over eight times over four weeks, always humming after pulling the cold end of the stethoscope away from her chest, always pinching his lips at his diagnosis, always telling her to take a breather, always saying that looking at some green would help.

The only good thing he had to tell her was that her heart was still beating and that was it; they both knew the truth wasn't just it. Despite signs of recovery in her whatever with Clarke, the wounds remained. Before, she would have been selfish enough to blame her entire condition on Clarke, even though she had let the doctor go. Now though, she was perceptive enough to know her family and she herself had contributed to it, thanks to Niylah.

It wasn't to say that the therapy hadn't helped. As expected, the breakup with Clarke, the breakdown of her relationship with her parents, and the things she'd seen in Libya, had reversed at least two thirds of the progress she'd made with Niylah previously, so everything was slow going.

But she'd also learned something else about her relationship with her family and her title and her sense responsibility, and she'd only become more restless when she came home. In lieu of that, she ignored Wells' prerogative and hobbled to her office, directing Rachel to brief her on everything she'd missed out for the past month or so.

And she stayed in her office. Dinner was dismissed. Coffee had been replenished twice throughout. Candidates for her programs were approved or rejected. Jaha's well-wishing letter was promptly ignored. She missed it, getting back to work, doing what she had set out to do since she was discharged almost a year ago. This was why she couldn't ever fully let go of her title.

She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't hear the door opening and someone coming in. Didn't notice an intruder making their way to the coffee table in the room until they cleared their throat.

Quick as a flash, Lexa grabbed for the cane and readied herself in as best a fighting position as she could, ready to face whomever was here to attack her. She blinked when she saw her father raising his hands in capitulation in air, even looking kind of afraid at his daughter's preparedness to take him out.

See? A long way to go.

The cane was replaced in the latch that was attached to her desk. She lowered her head and cupped her forehead in her hand, looking down at the paperwork that she wasn't reading and taking a few deep breaths, reciting weapons in her head as she went. Physician she was not, but the way her heart was going was definitely not good.

"I called your name three times," Richmond justified.

She nodded and put up her free hand. "Yeah, okay," she breathed. Once she was sure she was calm, she looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgement – like she said, things were learned at Niylah's today. "What are you doing here?" she asked, lacking the animosity that had lingered in her tone whenever she spoke with them prior.

"I want to tell you something. Keep you informed," he said.

She swallowed a reactionary scoff and just cleared her throat. Her parents had already taken a lot of steps in repairing their relationship, and as Niylah had told her this afternoon, she couldn't expect them to take all the steps.

See, one thing she'd learned from her session today, even without Niylah spelling everything out for her, was that she herself had to take the blame for always jumping forward to bear her responsibility and duties. Take the trip to Libya for example, Anya herself had said that Lexa could do the irresponsible thing for once and miss out on the plane, but even when she had entertained the thought, her attachment to her duties had made her cut her small camping trip with Clarke short to get on the plane.

In fact, her entire family was bred that way: dutiful and for the people. It wouldn't make any sense for her to maintain her anger at her family for being the way she was. If her mother or father had been asked to make the trip to Libya on Service Day, they would have taken on the job without much complaining, regardless of whether they wanted to go or not. Lexa, as it happened, was just the most suitable for it.

"Have you ever thought of just letting it all go? Relinquishing that invisible cape you carry on your shoulders? You wouldn't be the first," Niylah had prodded.

Lexa had started at the question. Niylah wouldn't be the first to ask that question either – Costia had asked it once during the course of their revived friendship – but Lexa was still surprised at it. Well, not so much surprised, more like affronted at the audacity of the question. The things she could do with her title, like what she was doing for the families of her fellow soldiers and what she used to do for the LGBT community, how could she ever shirk back from that?

No, no, she had never thought about it. And she couldn't.

"What is it?" she asked her father.

Richmond gestured at the tray of food he'd brought in. "Come on. Let's get some food in you." He sat down on the couch and raised his eyebrows at her.

She wanted to refuse, but baby steps, so she took the cane again and hobbled over to the coffee table, willfully ignoring the way he eyed her cane with a smidge of guilt. Plus, after hours of towering over her desk, she had to admit that starvation had set in somewhere along the day – she was just too absorbed in her work to notice.

"What is it?" she repeated after a few mouthfuls of soup and some bread.

He made a noise of reprehension, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Your mother and I have discussed this at length…and we've made the decision to award Clarke with a countship."

If anyone asked, Lexa would deny this until the day she died. But her good leg jerked so violently at the announcement that it knocked against the table and toppled the vase of fresh peonies over, spilling tainted water all over the carpet and running the table into her father's calves in the process, eliciting a yelp from the man himself.

They both spent a few moments cursing at one another, at themselves, at the vase, and at the table. So noisy that some maids and two security guards had scurried in, with their feather dusters and guns at the ready. The maids, seeing the scene before them, hurried to pick up the vase and mess of flowers and scurried out, not before promising they would return to deal with the carpet once the king and princess were done with their discussion. Meanwhile, the guards had holstered their guns and stood at attention, their lips twitching.

"It's fine. You can laugh," Lexa permitted, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, and tell them it's just the princess taking her anger out on her father in a very immature manner," Richmond butted in, mock glaring at his daughter.

"It was an accident!"

"Sure, it is."

"Oh, don't be a baby. I remember the three of us doing much worse when we were kids."

"Huh. Glad you do remember the nightmare you were."

"Yes, I remember grandmother once telling us that we got it from you. Mom was never so clumsy."

"Your mother's grace personified."

"Gross."

"Such rudeness after almost incapacitating your dear old dad."

"Come off it. It's not like you lost your leg from it."

The atmosphere quickly turned somber at the reminder. The king stared at the princess for a moment before waving the guards away to leave the two of them alone. Lexa played with the leftover bread, but didn't continue eating, his previous announcement swirling around in her head.

"She won't like it," Lexa said.

"Well, that's the first time I ever heard of someone not liking a noble title."

She shrugged and scratched the back of her neck. "Just like us, dad, Clarke's only doing her job, because she's a doctor like that. It doesn't matter who she saves."

"I'm sure you being the person she loves –"

"Loved," she corrected, closing her eyes.

It wasn't that she wasn't grateful towards Clarke for doing all she could to save Lexa's life twice, and she would love to shower the doctor with everything she got to prove her gratitude. But knowing Clarke, she knew the woman would probably find ways to shrink out of the reward and go on with her life. She didn't like attention as much as Lexa.

Furthermore, there was a reason behind their breakup – to save Clarke from further heartbreak of being the beloved of a royalty. Lexa wasn't certain that a noble title would do the progress any good; it would be a reminder of their short journey together. She still had the voicemail saved in her phone, and sometimes, she wished she hadn't entered the blonde's life at all, if only to never have to hear that voice so distraught.

"I'm sorry," her father voiced after a long pause.

She nodded. "Yeah, you've said." She cleared her throat and heaved a trembling sigh. "No, I get that you're sorry, and I can see that you and mom are trying. And I know that you were just doing your job, and I really do understand that. I've also started to grasp that you and mom are not the only ones at fault here. But the fact remains that it happened and she left. Just give me time."

"All the time you need."

She brushed her hair back and cleared her throat. "Which land?"

"Arkadia."

The Duchess of Goldcrest's eyes widened and she had to all she can to not yield another kneejerk reaction, literally. Arkadia city was almost as rich a territory as Goldcrest, if only a little smaller and a little lesser in population. Historically, it was a parcel that was usually bestowed to dukes or viscounts, never counts. But most importantly, Arkadia city was just a fence away from Goldcrest – they were neighbors.

For the first time tonight, Richmond had a placating smile across his lips as he nodded in understanding. "She's good for you. I can tell. And I just – your mother and I want a chance to…apologize to her as well, I suppose. A countship will do well, don't you think? A countship in Arkadia." She was numb and unresponsive. He chuckled and stood up, placing a kiss on her temple. "Sleep tight, kid."

The routine of waking up was simple. Let the chips of the early morning drift through her ears and knock her brain into consciousness. Linger in bed for around fifteen minutes and climb out. A quick shower with scalding water and head down to the pool house to sit on the deck and watch the sunrise. Get breakfast at either the dining room or in her office, depending on where her parents were.

Birds chirping didn't wake her up this morning. No, it was the dull but relentless throbs in her chest. She felt like there was something pounding away against her bones, fighting to get the hell out of its cage, and leave her to dead.

She struggled to get an arm to work while the other was clutching her chest, willing for it to stop. She didn't make any visible sounds of pain, only a few gasps in between. A hand reached out to the bedside table, scrambling helplessly as her vision flashed for her phone. All she managed was knocking a lamp off and crashing the glass of water into pieces. Well, that was noisy enough.

She rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor, only marginally thankful that there was a carpet to bolster her fall. The door opened and a few sets of feet came scrambling in and the last thing she saw was Lincoln's fearful face. Then…darkness.

am i projecting my own pain onto the fic? uh, yeah, maybe.