It was late morning, the sun dappled through the trees overheard and birdsong settled amongst the rustling of the leaves. Clarke sat on a fallen tree trunk, her mind absently moving from thought to thought. She needed to get away from the Mountain, or at least away from its felt presence for a moment or two. It had seemed overbearing, a little too close for comfort.
And so she had found a clearing not far from the Mountain's entrance, far enough away that she could have some peace, close enough that if someone were to yell she'd be able to hear and to respond. So perhaps it wasn't really that far away, that isolated. But it was enough for her to settle herself.
After the past day and a half and her few conversations with Alexandria she had put a little distance between them. Not because she wanted to pull away, but because she didn't want to overwhelm her. Clarke knew things must have been overwhelming for her and she didn't want to force anything upon Alexandria in any kind of way.
But the more she thought about those few conversations she more she thought that they had made progress in some kind of way. Alexandria had been willing to listen and to ask questions. In fact Clarke thought she had been eager and wanting to know more now that she was able and she hoped she had been able to provide at least some of the answers Alexandria had been in search of.
Clarke's thoughts turned to Agamemnon then and she couldn't help but to feel that ever present worry. She hadn't wanted to pry, hadn't wanted to push herself into whatever conversations were being had. She had grown fond of him, but his words, the way he thought of Alexandria had told her enough that she should give them all time alone to come to terms with whatever ailed him. Maybe in time she would be told. But for now she would stand back, give her support and her understanding and be there for any of them should they need her.
And so Clarke sighed as she tried to shake those thoughts free.
She looked up into the treetops overhead. Leaves and branches swayed with the gentle breeze, the sunlight dappling through the canopy seemed so charming and carefree and she realised she had missed this.
She had missed the quiet of the forests, the calm of the trees and the animals that would skitter underfoot.
Clarke looked outwards, towards the direction of her small cabin and she made a note to travel there in the next few days, to make sure it was ok. She didn't exactly know what her next steps would be. Whether she would return back to the homestead with Alexandria, or if she would spend some more time at the Mountain and Arkadia before heading back home.
But Clarke found a gentle laugh escape her lips as she realised she didn't quite know where home was anymore. Things had seemed so certain before she had been told of the homestead. Things had seemed so sure before she had spoken to Clarke in the flame. She should have known life wouldn't be easy, wouldn't be simple.
Perhaps the only thing she truly knew was that she wanted what was best for Alexandria, for a woman she had once known, for who she had grown into and who she was now. Not for the first time Clarke thought of how much strength it must have taken for Alexandria to take the steps she had taken. Not for the first time she thought of all the little things she did that reminded her of there shared past, from a look, a subtle glance, a tilted head or lifted chin.
Life was complicated, emotions were complicated, the flame was complicated. But Clarke had grown used to complications, to messy lives full of unknowns and uncertainties so she didn't think it would sway her from doing what she thought was best. But perhaps this time she felt a little unsure simply because the decisions she needed to make were decisions that were personal, ones not involving the lives of hundreds or thousands of people as she had once done years ago. And yet it felt just as important to her.
"Clarke?"
She turned at the sound of her name to find Alexandria standing at the clearing's edge, her hands clasps behind her back, her posture just as poised at she remembered it being so many years ago.
Perhaps the only difference this time was that Alexandria seemed lighter, less weighed down by expectation and duty, by armour and weapons.
"Hey," Clarke said with a small smile, Alexandria's presence unexpected yet welcomed.
"I am not interrupting?" Alexandria asked as she crossed the short distance to her.
"No," Clarke shook her head, a hand outstretched for Alexandria to join her on the tree trunk.
They fell into comfortable silence for a minute or two, both women content not to say anything. In that time Clarke let herself simply soak in Alexandria's presence, soak in her proximity and try to memorise it as much as she could. She found she had subconsciously been doing that the last few weeks. Maybe in an attempt to lock in memories they had never had a chance to form, maybe because she didn't know what would come next.
"How are things?" Clarke asked. She kept it vague enough that Alexandria could decide how much to share if she so desired.
Alexandria hummed a response for a brief moment as she thought over what was said before she answered. Clarke watched as Alexandria took in a steadying breath before she let it out in an exhale that wasn't quite as firm as she knew Alexandria had wanted.
"Your mother says Agamemnon is not well," Alexandria said quietly, and Clarke could hear just a hint of pain in her voice. "She must run more tests but she says it will be difficult to treat," Alexandria shrugged a shoulder before she looked away and tucked her face into her shoulder for a second.
Clarke didn't entirely know what to say at that. She had anticipated something along those lines. She had guessed any number of illnesses and she was more sure than not in recent days about what was ailing Agamemnon. But still, knowing, and hearing what Alexandria said didn't make it easier.
"I'm sorry," Clarke didn't think she could offer any other words to relieve whatever pain Alexandria was feeling. But she wanted her to know it was felt. It was understood.
Alexandria laughed something that was a little more bitter than usual as she sniffed, shrugged her shoulders and turned back to face her.
"There is not so much I am able to do right now," she said as she shook her head. "He has been ill for some time. It is not unexpected news."
Clarke didn't say anything in response. Mostly because she didn't want to say the wrong thing. Alexandria seemed to understand the unspoken things though. Clarke saw her smile a little more kindly, the bitterness of seconds gone by no longer present as she looked upon Alexandria's face.
But eventually Alexandria spoke, her voice quiet and a little more calm than it had been before, her goal to change the topic clear for Clarke to understand.
"Thank you."
"For what?" Clarke was just a little confused.
"For taking the time to show me these things," Alexandria said and she lifted up a hand as if to indicate the space around them. "Arkadia. The trading post. The Mountain."
"You're welcome," Clarke answered, her tone maybe a little cautious as she began to consider what it was that Alexandria wished to talk about.
"For so long I wondered what the Mountain was like," Alexandria said. "For so long all I had were old memories and the few stories told by the servants who had come to the homestead," she looked away and Clarke could see her turning back the years in her mind as she began to recall. "I wondered what it must have been like during the battle. I wondered what it must have been like after it fell," she shrugged a shoulder again as she seemed to look through the forest and towards the Mountain in the short distance. "Seeing its power used by my people is strange," she said eventually. "Though I think it fitting that in its death the Mountain is used to care for all those it terrorised, tormented for generations."
Clarke didn't want to interrupt in any kind of way. She could see Alexandria needed to get something off her chest, to speak her thoughts into the world without fear of judgement.
"I remember being a natblida, training, dreaming of a world where the Mountain was no longer a threat," Alexandria said. "Though those memories seem so foreign to me know. But they are there, if I allow myself to think back that far."
Clarke hummed a quiet response to let Alexandria know she was listening, that she wanted her to continue. And as Clarke looked at her she thought the way the sun dappled against her face so charming, the way it made her eyes shine so beautiful and she wished so terribly that things had turned out differently for them both so many years ago.
"For so long I struggled with accepting my place in the world," Alexandria continued. "I struggled with accepting that who I am now was the same person before I took the flame and who was the same person who was Commander," she paused briefly. "I never would have found the answers to these questions on my own." she said eventually. "But now," she gestured around them. "Now, as I walk through the Mountain and see how my people have come to live within its depths. As I ride through the forests without fear of reaper or Mountain Man or acid fog I realise that whatever goals or dreams I had before ascending came true," there was something oddly vibrant that tinged Alexandria's voice now as she turned to look at Clarke more fully. "Arkadia," she continued. "Skaikru. Your people and their place within the Coalition," she paused once more in thought. "Petra," she nodded to herself. "The trading post, the life she is now able to live," Alexandria trailed off then, her mind trying to order whatever moved through her mind.
Clarke didn't look away, didn't dare break eye contact. She felt herself lost in the things Alexandria said. She felt herself rooted in spot, loathe to break whatever tenuous grasp on the present that had taken hold of her.
"When I spoke with Lexa through the flame," Alexandria said quietly. "She told me I was still the same person, she told me my goals were my own, my accomplishments were my own, that because I did not remember doing those things did not mean I did not still hold the same spirit, the same hopes for my people," her gaze darted back and forth as if she searched for something to grasp onto in that very moment. "Perhaps then, what feels like lifetimes ago I didn't believe what I heard, didn't think myself deserving of whatever accolades or honours or legacies that awaited me in any kind of way," Alexandria's gaze steadied once more. "I was afraid. More afraid than I care to admit," she said. "Perhaps looking back it was because I was a coward, too afraid to learn more lest I realise I had failed in some way," she shook her head as if she was admonishing herself, her past, her present, her future.
"You were never a coward," Clarke said quietly.
Alexandria smiled at her for a moment as she let her words settle before she spoke once more.
"Alexandria," she said, her own name sounding a little hollow to Clarke in that very moment. "I have gone by Alexandria for so long that at times I feel like I am a different person— because I wished to be a different person," she bit her lip as if to steady her voice, as if the pain grounded her in some way. "But I do not wish to live my life in fear of the past, in fear of never moving forward because of things I can not remember," she shook her head. "Again, I do not think I would be here in this moment if it were not for you," Alexandria's gaze was steady, "if not for Athena, for the flame, for Lexa."
Clarke could see a fire in green eyes she had once seen so many years ago. And she thought it something she hadn't seen before, not for so long that it made her heart ache and her memories torment her in some cruel, unkind way.
"Alexan—"
A single hand lifting made Clarke stop whatever it was she was going to say.
"I—" a pause, subtle enough that Clarke heard it, subtle enough that it was almost missed. "Lexa," she said quietly, her voice steady, sure, more confident than it had been in many months. "Call me Lexa."