I do not own the 100. Unfortunately, someone had the idea first and I am stuck with creating stories in my mind or on my phone with Lexa and Clarke getting the life they deserved.
The morning sun bathed the city of Polis in a golden glow, but Lexa remained oblivious to its beauty. She stood on her balcony, her gaze fixed on the sprawling forest beyond the city walls. The news of Clarke's survival had stirred a tempest within her, a maelstrom of emotions she had suppressed for years.
Sleep had eluded her. The night had been a blur of fragmented memories, a relentless replay of moments shared with Clarke. She recalled the early days after Clarke's disappearance, the desperate attempts to bury her grief beneath a mountain of duties. There were days when the mere thought of Clarke was enough to bring her to her knees, days spent in the solitude of her chambers, tears streaming down her face as she wrestled with the agonizing possibility that Clarke was gone forever.
Then there were the rumors, the fleeting glimpses of hope that would inevitably turn to dust. She remembered the day a hunter had claimed to have seen a young woman with striking blue eyes near the border of Podakru. A flicker of hope had ignited within her, quickly extinguished by the fear of disappointment. Now, the memory filled her with regret. Why hadn't she investigated further? Why had she allowed her fear to paralyze her?
With a sigh, Lexa ran a hand through her hair, the weight of her past inaction heavy on her shoulders. She turned away from the balcony, stepping back into her chambers. Duty called. She had a meeting with the ambassadors, a meeting that had taken on a new urgency in light of the news about Clarke.
The prospect of facing the ambassadors filled her with dread. She knew their opinions of Wanheda, of Clarke. They saw her as a ruthless killer, a bringer of death. But Lexa knew better. She had witnessed Clarke's compassion, her unwavering commitment to her people, her fierce determination to do what was right, even when it came at a great personal cost. It was these qualities that had captivated Lexa, that had made her fall deeply, irrevocably in love.
With a heavy heart, Lexa surveyed her chambers. She donned the traditional attire of the Commander, the intricate symbols of her authority a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. Taking a deep breath, she exited her room, her footsteps echoing through the silent halls.
The ambassadors were already assembled in the council chamber, their faces etched with anticipation. Lexa took her seat, her gaze sweeping over the representatives of the twelve clans. Her eyes finally settled on Pike, the ambassador of Skaikru, a man she had come to respect despite their initial differences.
"Wanheda, Clarke of the Sky People, lives," she announced, her voice resonating through the chamber.
The words hung in the air, a shockwave that reverberated through the assembled ambassadors. A cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and exclamations filled the room. Lexa observed their reactions, a mixture of disbelief, apprehension, and outright hostility. The meeting had begun, and Lexa knew she had a formidable task ahead of her – to convince the clans that Clarke's return was not a threat, but an opportunity for a new era of peace and cooperation.
The morning sun bathed Polis in a golden glow, but Lexa remained oblivious to its beauty. She stood on her balcony, her gaze fixed on the sprawling forest beyond the city walls. The news of Clarke's survival had stirred a tempest within her, a maelstrom of emotions she had suppressed for years.
Sleep had eluded her. The night had been a blur of fragmented memories, a relentless replay of moments shared with Clarke. She recalled the early days after Clarke's disappearance, the desperate attempts to bury her grief beneath a mountain of duties. There were days when the mere thought of Clarke was enough to bring her to her knees, days spent in the solitude of her chambers, tears streaming down her face as she wrestled with the agonizing possibility that Clarke was gone forever.
Then there were the rumors, the fleeting glimpses of hope that would inevitably turn to dust. She remembered the day a hunter had claimed to have seen a young woman with striking blue eyes near the border of Podakru. A flicker of hope had ignited within her, quickly extinguished by the fear of disappointment. Now, the memory filled her with regret. Why hadn't she investigated further? Why had she allowed her fear to paralyze her?
With a sigh, Lexa ran a hand through her hair, the weight of her past inaction heavy on her shoulders. She turned away from the balcony, stepping back into her chambers. Duty called. She had a meeting with the ambassadors, a meeting that had taken on a new urgency in light of the news about Clarke.
The prospect of facing the ambassadors filled her with dread. She knew their opinions of Wanheda, of Clarke. They saw her as a ruthless killer, a bringer of death. But Lexa knew better. She had witnessed Clarke's compassion, her unwavering commitment to her people, her fierce determination to do what was right, even when it came at a great personal cost. It was these qualities that had captivated Lexa, that had made her fall deeply, irrevocably in love.
With a heavy heart, Lexa surveyed her chambers. She donned the traditional attire of the Commander, the intricate symbols of her authority a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. Taking a deep breath, she exited her room, her footsteps echoing through the silent halls.
The ambassadors were already assembled in the council chamber, their faces etched with anticipation. Lexa took her seat, her gaze sweeping over the representatives of the twelve clans. Her eyes finally settled on Pike, the ambassador of Skaikru, a man she had come to respect despite their initial differences.
"Wanheda, Clarke of the Sky People, lives," she announced, her voice resonating through the chamber.
The words hung in the air, a shockwave that reverberated through the assembled ambassadors. A cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and exclamations filled the room. Lexa observed their reactions, a mixture of disbelief, apprehension, and outright hostility. The meeting had begun, and Lexa knew she had a formidable task ahead of her – to convince the clans that Clarke's return was not a threat, but an opportunity for a new era of peace and cooperation.
The council chamber buzzed with unease as the ambassadors reacted to Lexa's announcement. A wave of dissent rippled through the room; the fragile peace established over the years threatening to shatter.
"Clarke's return is an ill omen," sneered the ambassador from Azgeda, his eyes filled with suspicion. "She brings chaos and destruction wherever she goes."
"The Commander of Death should have stayed dead," hissed the representative from Ouskejonkru (Blue Cliff), his voice laced with animosity. "Her presence will only reignite old conflicts."
One by one, the ambassadors voiced their concerns, their fears, their prejudices. Accusations flew across the room, blame and resentment bubbling to the surface. The only exceptions were the representatives from Skaikru, Trikru, Floukru, Trishanakru, Yujleda, and Boudalankru. Bound by their close ties with Trikru, they had witnessed firsthand Clarke's courage and compassion.
"Clarke may have made difficult choices," argued Pike, Skaikru's ambassador, his voice firm, "but she always acted in the best interests of her people. Her return could be an opportunity for healing, for a stronger alliance."
"Indeed," added Liana, Trikru's ambassador, her voice steady. "Clarke has proven herself a valuable ally. We should not judge her based on past mistakes, but on her potential to contribute to the future of the coalition."
Lexa listened patiently, her expression unreadable. She allowed the ambassadors to vent their frustrations, to express their fears. But as the debate grew increasingly heated, she knew she had to intervene.
"Em pleni!" she boomed, her voice echoing through the chamber. The room fell silent, the ambassadors startled by her sudden outburst.
Lexa rose from her seat, her gaze sweeping over the assembled representatives. "We are here to discuss the implications of Clarke's return, not to rehash old grievances," she stated firmly. "The fact remains, she is alive. We must decide how to proceed, not as individual clans, but as a united coalition."
And so began the arduous task of navigating the complex web of opinions and agendas. Lexa skillfully guided the discussion, highlighting the potential benefits of Clarke's return, emphasizing her knowledge, her skills, her ability to bridge the gap between Skaikru and the Grounder clans. But the opposition was fierce, fueled by fear and mistrust.
The meeting stretched on, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. Lexa could feel a headache building behind her eyes as the debate raged. Half the ambassadors remained adamant that Clarke should be banished, or worse, eliminated. The other half, fiercely protective of Clarke, countered with threats and accusations. A stalemate had been reached.
Finally, as twilight descended upon Polis, Lexa called an end to the meeting. Exhaustion and frustration hung heavy in the air as the ambassadors filed out, their voices echoing in the emptying chamber.
Lexa remained seated, her gaze fixed on the closing doors. Pike and Liana approached, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.
"Heda," Pike began, "when did you receive this news?"
"Raven contacted me yesterday," Lexa replied, her voice weary. "She said Clarke left them a sign."
Pike's face broke into a relieved smile. "That sounds like Clarke," he chuckled. "Though, if I'm being honest, I think she'd be a better ambassador for Skaikru than I am. I'd much rather be out training with the warriors."
Liana laughed, "You always seem so bored during these meetings, Pike, unless someone's challenging Skaikru to a fight."
Lexa's lips twitched in amusement. "Go get some dinner," she instructed, a hint of warmth in her voice. "We'll reconvene tomorrow. It may be an even longer meeting."
Pike groaned dramatically, exiting the chamber with Liana, her laughter echoing behind him. Lexa watched them go, a flicker of hope rekindling within her. Perhaps, with the support of her allies, she could navigate this treacherous political landscape and pave the way for Clarke's return.
As the doors closed, Lexa rose from her seat. She activated the hidden staircase behind her throne, descending into the secret passage that led to her private chambers. Alone at last, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to Clarke. The memory of her bright eyes, her infectious smile, filled Lexa with a longing that transcended the years of separation. She would face the challenges ahead, she would fight for Clarke, for their future, for the chance to be reunited at last.