If there's one thing that Clarke learned about Lexa, it was that she didn't heal easily.
Between getting out of bed when she wasn't supposed to, and trying to sneak away to council meetings, Lexa had pulled her stitches twice. While she insisted that she felt fine and that she didn't need help, Clarke could tell by the pained expressions that Lexa was not ready to be mobile.
And then the infection hit.
Clarke could tell that something was wrong when she woke up in the middle of the night and Lexa was still in bed, without protest and sleeping quite soundly. She pressed the back of her hand to Lexa's forehead and found it to be quite hot. Lexa stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake up completely. Another bad sign.
"Lexa, wake up," Clarke said softly, shaking her shoulder gently. "I need to check your wound."
Lexa's eyes cracked open just enough so that Clarke wouldn't feel uncomfortable lifting the hem of her shirt to check the wound. She peeled back the bandage tentatively, already knowing what she would find. The skin around the bandage was red and hot to the touch, and when she looked at the wound itself, pus oozed out and sure enough, another stitch had been pulled.
"Lexa, are you serious? Where did you even go last night- I was here the whole time!" Clarke exclaimed, feeling frustrated. Lexa gave no reply, and when Clarke looked back at her, she had already gone back to sleep. Clarke gave her shoulder a shake. "Lexa, wake up."
Again, Lexa's eyes opened just a little, staring blankly at Clarke as if she were staring right through her.
"Not feeling so good," Lexa slurred, her eyes falling shut again. Clarke held back an 'I told you so', and walked to the washroom to fetch a cloth and some water. She pressed the cool cloth to Lexa's forehead, and her eyes brightened a little. "Am I healing?"
"Nope, pretty much the exact opposite," Clarke remarked, using her free hand to trail her hand along Lexa's jawline tenderly. "How can one person inflict so much damage on themselves in just a day?"
"You'd be surprised," Lexa replied grimly, her eyes becoming vacant again. "It hurts."
Suddenly, Clarke's heart dropped a little. Of course she had been concerned about Lexa from the moment she got shot, but hearing Lexa admit that she was hurting meant a lot. Clarke felt renewed with vengeance for whoever did this to her.
"I know it does," Clarke said, brushing back Lexa's hair. "I'm going to go get someone who knows what they're doing to come in and deal with this, okay?"
Though Clarke was reluctant to leave Lexa alone in this state, staying by her side clearly wasn't helping either. She ran out to the guards and explained the situation. They nodded and sent for a healer to come immediately.
This healer was different than the one who was on the scene when Lexa was shot initially. He was older and had a long beard that tapered out at the ends and big eyes that bulged out a little which made his other features look impossibly small. Clarke explained Lexa's condition to him as they ran up the spiral staircase to Lexa's bedroom.
However, when they entered, Lexa looked even worse than when Clarke had left. She was paler and each breath looked like an effort.
"Clarke," Lexa said, her voice desperate, as the healer prepared to treat Lexa. Clarke rushed to her side, taking her hand in both of hers.
"I'm here," Clarke said, her voice shaking. She reminded herself that Lexa wasn't actually dying, that it was just an infection, and that it was easily treatable.
"You look like an angel," Lexa breathed, slipping in and out of her native tongue. Clarke smiled a little. Lexa's eyes watered as she whispered, "Ai gonplei ste odon."
"No, I won't accept that." Clarke couldn't help but cry like a baby when she heard those words from Lexa. She knew that the Commander was just being theatrical, but the possibility of it being a reality was frightening. The healer, rolling his eyes at his Heda's words, carried over a bowl of water that smelled of herbs, and nonchalantly pulled back Lexa's shirt to reveal the infected wound.
"You're going to be okay, just hang on a little longer," Clarke insisted, but she couldn't have sounded that convincing through her sniffling and crying.
The healer said nothing as he dipped a rag in this special water and suddenly started scrubbing at the wound. Lexa cried out in pain and squeezed Clarke's hand with such force that Clarke swore she felt the bones move beneath her skin. So much for being almost dead.
"Hey, can you be a little more gentle?" Clarke said to the healer, but he didn't even spare a glance at her.
"He doesn't speak your language," Lexa explained when he stopped scrubbing for a moment to re-rinse his rag. She repeated Clarke's words in Trigedasleng, and the man nodded.
Finally, the man put some kind of poultice on the wound before putting a new bandage on it. He muttered something to Lexa, and left promptly afterwards with a grim expression on his face.
"What did he say?" Clarke asked.
"If I make it through the night, I will live," Lexa replied, her eyes becoming vacant once more. They both fell silent for a moment.
"Tell me a story," Clarke said, and Lexa regarded her with curious eyes, but obliged. They spent the whole night exchanging stories, and when the morning sun peeked through the window, Clarke felt overwhelmed with relief. It wasn't until then that Clarke let Lexa go to sleep.
After that night, Clarke refused to leave Lexa's side until she could see the skin healing, which was when Lexa was finally allowed to leave the room to attend meetings and visit with her people. The Nightbloods would all gather in Lexa's room in the afternoons, so that Lexa would be able to continue with their teaching. It was unorthodox, but it worked.
Amidst the chaos that was Lexa's recovery, she was still determined to find out who had shot her.
"Has Pike said anything yet?" Lexa asked Clarke one afternoon. Since Clarke was the ambassador of the Skaikru, she was responsible for interrogating him.
"No," Clarke admitted. "He doesn't respect me. Doesn't think I have what it takes to make him talk."
"He underestimates your strength," Lexa commented, and Clarke just nodded, looking down at the floor. "Do I need to step in?"
"No, I can handle this," Clarke insisted, crossing her arms. "I just need to show him what I'm capable of."
"Do your worst," Lexa said with a hint of pride in her tone.
Clarke walked down to the dungeons apprehensively, turning her knife over and over in her hands until she felt the confidence she needed to exude. She thought of Lexa and the pain that she was put in because of Pike, and that was all that she needed.
"I'm going to ask you nicely, one last time. Who shot Lexa?" Clarke demanded, storming into the cell and crossing her arms behind her back and lifting her chin, trying to be as intimidating as Lexa could be.
"Lexa deserved it. She left our people to die," Pike sneered, and that was all it took for Clarke to lunge at him. She grabbed him by the throat and threw him up against the wall, pressing the blade of her knife to his throat.
"Say that again, I dare you," Clarke growled, baring her teeth at him.
"Ah, it all makes sense now," Pike remarked, still smug despite the circumstances. "You're more Grounder than you are an Arker, aren't you?"
Clarke tightened her grip on his neck, but didn't press too hard. Only Lexa would be allowed to kill him. But Clarke could make his life miserable. Her fist met his gut, and she tried to overlook the fact that she was glad he curled in on himself.
"I'm doing what's right for my people," Clarke insisted, though she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.
"So am I," Pike argued. "Lexa is doing what's right for hers. And no matter what she says, she will sacrifice our people again and again."
"Enough," Clarke said, tightening her grip on his neck. "Who shot Lexa?"
"I'm not telling," Pike insisted, his voice stretched thin because of Clarke's hand on his vocal chords. Again, Clarke's other fist connected with his side.
"How did you turn them against her?" Clarke asked.
"Like I said, it's what was best for her people," Pike reiterated. And then it occurred to Clarke. There were still people who didn't approve of Lexa, despite everything she'd done to prove that she was worthy of being the Commander.
"I want you to feel what she feels," Clarke admitted darkly, hitting him over and over again. It felt good to get her frustration out, but she also felt disappointed in herself for resorting to violence like this.
"Clarke," came a gentle voice from outside the cell. Clarke lowered her hand in shame, tears streaking down her face. Lexa entered the cell with her hands behind her back, but Clarke kept her knife pressed to Pike's throat. She wasn't going to give him a second chance to hurt Lexa.
"You have two options, Pike," Lexa said, her voice cold and detached. "Either you die a miserable, tortured death from forty-nine cuts by my hand, or you answer Clarke's question and die by one cut from hers."
Clarke pressed the knife to Pike's throat for emphasis. He looked between the two and let out a ragged breath.
"I'm not saying a word," Pike said stubbornly. Lexa nodded.
"Very well," she said nonchalantly. "Then tomorrow night, you will die."
Once they were out of earshot, Clarke grabbed Lexa by the wrist and pulled her down an abandoned corridor.
"You're just going to kill him before he says anything? We could never know who the shooter was," Clarke reminded Lexa.
"You're letting your emotions get the best of you," Lexa warned, her eyes threatening in the dark. "It doesn't matter who the shooter was, because Pike was the one orchestrated this assassination attempt."
"They could try to hurt you again," Clarke insisted, trying not to take Lexa's tone personally. "I can't lose you."
Lexa softened considerably, but Clarke could tell that she was still wary. Lexa's thumb brushed over Clarke's knuckles.
"We are Commanders first, and our people must always come before whatever we feel for each other," Lexa reminded Clarke gently. Clarke remembered what Lexa had said about Costia... Killed and tortured by the Azgeda, and yet they were accepted into the Coalition.
"I'm sorry, Heda," Clarke said in a colder tone, because in that moment, it wasn't Lexa her love that she was speaking to, it was Lexa the Commander of the Twelve Armies.
"Clarke," Lexa said in a pleading tone. Clarke had been ready to storm off but Lexa's hand tightened around hers. "I have upset you. That was not my intention. I don't want our people to think that we are weak because of our relationship."
Then Clarke realized, that all of Lexa's life, she had been indoctrinated with the belief that love was weakness, and by going against that belief, she was yet again, defying her people's traditions. Along with all the other paradigms that Lexa had broken during her leadership, it was clear why she was reluctant to go against this one.
"It's alright, I understand," Clarke said in a softer voice, taking Lexa's other hand. "And I love you even more for it."
Lexa's smile lit up the darkness, and Clarke couldn't help but press her lips to Lexa's. Though she was met with initial hesitation, she felt Lexa's body relax against hers. Lexa moved to lift Clarke against the wall when Clarke pulled away.
"You're still healing," Clarke protested, pressing a finger to Lexa's lips. Lexa made a noise of frustration, which only made Clarke smile. Clarke lifted Lexa and pressed her up against the wall and found her lips again. She felt Lexa's legs wrap around her waist, tugging her closer as they kissed. Lexa's hands got tangled in Clarke's hair, and Clarke was just starting to undo the back of Lexa's shirt as she had countless times when Lexa made a different sound. One of hurt.
Immediately, Clarke backed off, and Lexa nearly fell to the floor with the sudden loss of Clarke's body against hers.
"Clarke, I'm okay, really," Lexa insisted, but Clarke just shook her head.
"I'm not," Clarke replied, pulling her hands away from Lexa's so that she wouldn't know how much they were shaking. "I thought I'd lost you, Lex."
Lexa's eyes lowered, and she pulled her hair to one side to reveal her scar once again, reminding Clarke of the tattoo on the back of her neck.
"As long as the flame exists, I will be with you," Lexa assured. "Perhaps not physically, but we would be able to communicate through the next Commander. I hear everything that the Commanders of the past say to me. That is why we are able to lead at such a young age. That is why you may have faith in Aden."
"And if that isn't enough," Lexa continued, stepping closer to Clarke and laying her hand over Clarke's heart. "I will always be with you, here."
Clarke lifted her hand to cover Lexa's, internalizing her words. She bowed her head a little.
"You vowed to treat my needs as your own," Clarke said, her voice just above a whisper. Her breath still hitched when she thought about that intimate moment.
"I haven't forgotten," Lexa assured.
"I need you," Clarke replied, closing the space between them again.
It was time for Pike's execution, and a handful of people from Arkadia had come to watch. While they weren't thrilled about Pike's death, they didn't exactly protest it either. The Arkers, unlike many of the Grounders, respected Lexa's authority, and didn't question it when Clarke explained the whole situation, including the assassination attempt.
Clarke stood proudly next to Lexa's throne as Pike was brought in. She was wary of the guards that held either one of Pike's arms, unsure of how loyal they were to Lexa. She had a weapon on her, just in case.
Before the execution, Lexa made a speech outlining how blood must not have blood had it's limits, and since Pike hadn't responded to the terms of his banishment, he had earned his death. She asked the audience if anyone objected, and thankfully, no one did.
Each cut that Lexa made was slow and deliberate, and after each cut, she gave him an opportunity to end his suffering by just saying who shot her, but even when he teetered on the edge of death, he said nothing. Lexa delivered the last cut to his throat. The guards that had brought him in took his body out to the square where it would burn. No one but Lexa stayed to watch that part.
And so, after her people were set on their way back to Arkadia, escorted by grounders, Clarke found herself by Lexa's side once again, watching another body burn. She didn't really want to be out in the cool night air, but she wouldn't get any sleep without Lexa.
"Why are you watching this? I thought only those who were close to the victim would stay to watch this part," Clarke asked, crossing her arms to keep warm.
"Out of respect," Lexa replied curtly, staring at the fire before her. "There is no one else here to mourn him, and I feel obligated to be here with him as his spirit is freed."
Clarke didn't reply, but stared into the fire until her eyes burnt from the smoke. Eventually, the remains of Pike's body were reduced to ash, and Lexa started walking towards her bed chamber. She no longer had to request Clarke's presence at night- those who guarded Lexa's room were familiar with Clarke's face and their irregular sleeping arrangements.
Clarke slipped into bed beside Lexa, snuggling close until their arms were wrapped around each other.
"Are you alright now, Wanheda?" Lexa asked, staring at Clarke intently in the dark. In this moment, Clarke could hide nothing from Lexa, even if she wanted to.
"Why do you still call me that?" Clarke replied, not out of irritation but rather, curiosity. "You know that's not who I am."
"Would you prefer something else?" Lexa offered. "Ai kwin, ai hodnes, ai keryon-"
"All of them," Clarke laughed, her heart fluttering at the idea of them. "And what should I call you?"
"You haven't answered my first question, Clarke," Lexa pointed out sternly. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Clarke breathed out. She felt every breath that Lexa took by the gentle rise and fall that lifted and lowered Clarke's arm on her waist. "I think I'm alright."