Chapter Text
It was dark outside. The moon was full and barely a cloud hindered its light. Stars sparkled overhead and Lexa stood in the open. It was warm, too. The wind against her face felt nice. The furs and leathers that adorned her body were comfortable, calming, they seemed to have become part of her without her even realising.
She didn’t think she could go back to the hand-me-downs and tattered clothes they had all worn on the Ark. It was funny, Lexa thought, just how quickly she had grown used to the comforts that could be found amongst the trees. But so too did she think it odd just how quickly she had become numbed to the violence and the strangeness of things that had always existed just beyond their knowing.
Mount Weather and its main entrance remained open to her back. She could still hear people moving back and forth, some in conversation and others happy to take them where their feet pleased. She didn’t know what was going to come next. She hadn’t really let herself think that far ahead. But now that the fighting was behind them, now that things were just a little calmer Lexa knew she would need to talk with Clarke and her own people to make sure whatever sacrifices were made and would continue to be made were worth it.
But for the moment there was a feast that she knew soon to begin.
Lexa looked out towards the large clearing that had been organised. Bonfires already raged their fire, warriors already gathered about and it felt oddly carefree. She didn’t know where the rest of the warriors were though. She could only see a few hundred, perhaps half a thousand. She knew there were many times more that had been underground and spread out through the forests. Perhaps they were all having their own feasts. But she didn’t think it truly that important to know.
Lexa sighed. She knew she would be required to attend but for the moment she wanted to check in on the others.
The short walk back into the depths of Mount Weather were quiet. She passed only a few other warriors who had yet to make their presence known at the feast. Eventually she arrived at the large dining hall. Here there were more warriors gathered around. Each one armed, each one focused and she knew they were willing and ready to kill any of the prisoners if given the reason.
One warrior, someone she recognised but didn’t know nodded his head at her before he stepped aside and let her pass. Lexa said a quiet thank you before she came to stand inside the entrance to the dining hall.
Candles and open flames burned about. It was perhaps a little warmer than it needed to be but she was thankful for the flames. It had taken her a few hours to realise just why Mount Weather’s interior had begun to smell like fresh forest incense but she realised it had been to mask the smell of what she had been shown.
The fact she had a part to play in the horrors of what befell those who hadn’t had a recent dose of nightblood should have made her stomach recoil. But for whatever reason Lexa didn’t feel it as much as she thought she should. Perhaps her time on the ground had really changed her more than she anticipated.
But Lexa’s attention was broken by a hand waving to her.
Monty and Harper sat together near her. Both people part of her original group who had been sent down to Earth. She hadn’t seen them in what felt like years and she just a little guilty.
“Hey guys,” Lexa said as she walked up to them.
“Hey,” Monty said with a small smile.
“How are you both holding up?” Lexa asked.
There was something a little nervous or unsure in the way Harper and Monty looked at each other before answering.
“We’re ok,” Monty said. It was an honest and truthful answer, Lexa could tell that much.
“To be honest,” Harper added. “I did think everything was a little too good to be true,” she gestured around at the dining hall. “I just never expected it to be as bad as what it was.”
Lexa didn’t blame Harper. She had wanted Mount Weather to be their saving grace. She had wanted it to be the thing to solve all their problems. And when she had first stumbled into Carl and the acid fog she had really hoped.
But that hope had turned into disgust and shock and so many other things as she discovered what his people were doing.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you guys into my plan,” Lexa said. She meant it, too. She couldn’t risk more than she had. Or perhaps it wasn’t really her dictating how things played out out. Clarke had truly been the one in control.
“I’m just happy we weren’t killed on sight,” Monty added with a nervous laugh.
Lexa returned his laugh with a small smile. She didn’t know whatever to say.
“There’s going to be a feast,” she changed the topic to one a little more gentle. “I think you’re all invited, under guard though.”
Harper glanced over to the nearest warrior before she simply shrugged.
“Suits me.”
Lexa smiled once more before she nodded her head.
“Take care, guys. I’ll talk with you and everyone else later.”
Lexa took the time to check on everyone she recognised. It didn’t surprise her that Raven, Anya, Bellamy and Octavia and Marcus weren’t present. They were probably already at the feast or being kept in a separate location a little less under guard given their help and involvement.
And Lexa felt numb. A little weightless in the world as she continued to walk through the halls of Mount Weather. Things had been built up so much in her mind that she didn’t know what to expect. But it seemed so empty, so void of any kind of visible evidence of the evil its inhabitants had committed that it made Lexa’s skin crawl.
Mount Weather’s halls could almost be mistaken for any one of the corridors in the Ark. The signage was so very similar. The technology, the panels, the lighting and all the little things she saw reminded her of what had once been home.
Perhaps it made her skin crawl because she recognised too much of the Ark and her people in Mount Weather and its last survivors. Perhaps some part of her wondered if she and her people would have done what Mount Weather would have done if they had been in the exact same position.
They had done things. She had done things she wasn’t proud of. But they hadn’t done what Mount Weather did.
Or maybe they just weren’t given the chance to.
Lexa realised she had been looking at an old painting that hung on a lonely wall. She didn’t recognise it. She assumed it was something once famous but she didn’t care enough to think too hard.
It was a nice painting though. Something that showed a landscape full of small little details of life. A winding, wending river snaked through the lands. Sunlight glinted off the its surface in such a dazzling display of skill that she knew the original artist had to have been showing off.
And it was nice.
It was beautiful.
Perhaps for a brief moment she could pretend she was just a woman standing in front of a painting displayed in a quiet section of a museum.
Lexa liked that idea.
She liked thinking of something a little less real in that moment.
“I always liked that one.”
The voice startled her and Lexa turned to look at the voice.
“Maya,” she said. “I—” Lexa didn’t know what to say.
“You didn’t think I’d be awake?” Maya asked. There was tiredness in her voice, there was an odd vibration in her tone that told Lexa enough to know Clarke had helped in more ways than most could understand.
“I—” Lexa repeated her word quietly before she simply shook her head and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re alive.”
Maya smiled at her as she wheeled her chair awkwardly next to her. A heavy fur blanket was draped over slender shoulders. Her body seemed weaker than usual and Lexa wouldn’t pry, she wouldn’t ask any questions. Maya had sacrificed almost more than anyone else she knew in her entire life. And yet she was strong enough to make it.
“Your doctor doesn’t know if I’ll ever walk again,” Maya said as if she had read her mind.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Lexa answered as she turned back to the painting.
“I know,” Maya said and Lexa felt her settle beside her in the wheelchair as she looked at the painting too.
“How are you, though” Lexa asked.
Maya remained quiet for a very long moment as she seemed to think over her question. Lexa was happy and content to let it settle between them. But eventually Maya began to say something only for the words the fade out into silence as she appeared to change her mind and think just a little more.
“I was going to make a joke,” Maya began. “Say I’ve been better.”
She paused for a moment and Lexa once more let the silence settle.
“But I’ve been better,” Maya said with a shrug. “But I don’t know,” she continued. “I never thought I’d ever set foot inside Mount Weather again,” she looked down at her legs that remained motionless in front of her. “I guess I haven’t actually done that,” she looked up at Lexa with a sad smile. “Technically I mean.”
Lexa chewed her lip. She didn’t know how to respond but she didn’t think Maya needed or wanted to say she was sorry. That wouldn’t help or offer her anything other than a reminder of what had happened.
“Anya and I are planning to go visit Azgeda next,” she said and she gestured behind her in the direction she hoped Azgeda lay.
“Don’t let Ontari know,” Maya said with a wry smile. “She might tell the border guards not to let you through.”
Lexa laughed quietly and it was an honest laugh, something she hadn’t felt for a little while.
“I think we can squeeze in a trip to a beach on the way,” Lexa said. “If you want to come?”
Maya smiled in answer, whatever heaviness that had sat on her heart forgotten for the moment.
“Yeah,” Maya said. “I think I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a plan,” Lexa said with a smile that graced the corners of her eyes. “Now come on,” she gestured towards where she knew the exit lay. “The feast is going to start soon and I’m pretty sure we’re expected to show up.”
Clarke stood in the centre of her war tent. It had been so long since she had let it be erected so openly that part of her felt nervous and though she knew it all to be in her head it didn’t stop it from feeling unnatural.
She could already hear the rhythmic drumming echoing out in the distance and through the lands as the many feasts her warriors were throwing were starting. And it was a soothing sound, a gentle sound, a sound that at times made heart beast in time to the slash of sword and her mind steady to the familiarity of breath.
Her leathers and furs were strapped to her body. Each weapon in its rightful place. Adorned on her shoulder her pauldron scarred from wars eons past. The red of her sash flowed down to her feet and snaked along the floor as if it were a living, breathing beast tamed by her spirit. Upon her face was the black warpaint that etched itself into her flesh, that dripped down her cheeks and made her face more ferocious than any beast had ever been.
And Clarke embraced this feeling.
She didn’t know if she would ever feel the way she did again in that very moment.
She had vanquished her enemy, she had slain it from within and she would declare herself rightful victor to the enemies of the Coalition.
Her father stood to the side, his own armours strapped to his body, his hand resting comfortably atop the pommel of his sword. Ontari and a handful of others stood around too, each one waiting for her command.
Those with her, her cherished advisors, friends in battle, warriors and royal guard who had been by her side through her every step appeared just as ferocious as she felt. And she was proud. Proud of the things she had accomplished, proud of the things they had accomplished. She wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t so prideful that she would dare ignore the sacrifices of those who had died and those that remained.
And so Clarke took in one steadying breath as she looked around herself. She slowly began to move, she slowly began to walk towards her closest warrior. Clarke stopped just in front of the woman, she lifted a hand and placed it over her warrior’s beating heart. She let it linger for long enough that she knew it was felt and then she moved to the next.
Clarke didn’t know what exactly it was she was doing. She didn’t know what it was she hoped to communicate.
But that was a lie. She did know.
She did and she wanted those who stood around her in her war tent to know she felt them as keenly as she felt the beating of her own heart. She looked each one in the eyes and it was a quiet knowing, a gentle understanding shared between warrior and Heda, deity and servant.
Eventually Clarke came to the last warrior and she smiled as she met Ontari’s gaze. There was fire in the eyes that looked back at her and Clarke knew that same fire was in her own eyes.
There was a change. Something that was shared between everyone in the tent.
“I am Heda,” Clarke said, her voice was calm, it was gentle, firm and strong as it settled within the tent. “Natblida,” she slowly turned to look at everyone around her. “But I would not be Heda without warriors to my back,” she paused long enough for her words to sink in. “And I am natblida,” she held up a hand, she pulled out her knife and she drew the blade across her palm.
Blood as black as the night dripped down her palm. It etched into the wrinkles of her hand, it coated her wrist and Clarke moved forward with purpose, she ignored the stinging and burning and she slowly ran her palm against each forehead before her, perhaps to mark, perhaps to stake claim, perhaps to share in the pain, the sacrifices, the victory of all those who had fought.
“But I would not be natblida without the honour you bestow upon me,” Clarke’s voice lingered in the air again. It felt heavy on her tongue and she once more returned to the centre of her tent before speaking. “You honour me more than you know,” perhaps it was as much deference as she could show. Maybe what she said could be considered blasphemy. But she knew those in her tent would understand.
And perhaps that was all that really mattered.
“Now feast, my friends. Enjoy this night.”
Clarke watched as each warrior bowed their heads. She watched as Ontari and her father were the last to leave and then Clarke remained standing alone in her tent. She took in a steadying breath and she let her fingers run over the weathered hilt of the knife she still held in her hand. The stinging, burning of her wound had subsided, the wound had stitched itself back together and she slowly let her mind turn to what came next.
For the first time in a long while she didn’t know how she was going to do it. She could make it quick, painless. It would seem almost routine to her after all these years. But part of her wondered if taking all of wanheda’s power demanded flair, demanded a show, a spectacle that none could ignore.
“Heda,” she heard someone’s voice call from outside her tent. “She is here.”
“Send her in,” Clarke answered as she came to sit on her throne.
Lexa wasn’t entirely sure what Clarke wanted. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had been pulled from the beginning of the festivities but there wasn’t really anything she could do.
It was only a short walk from the main clearing to Clarke’s tent. The path forward was lined by far too many burning torches to be safe but Lexa wouldn’t question Clarke’s appreciation for the dramatic. There had been too many times since crashing down on the ground for Lexa to really question much more.
It was funny, too. The last time she had been lead to Clarke’s tent she had been blindfolded and bound, a prisoner with the fear of death in her veins. But now she seemed so very different.
She didn’t think she was a prisoner. Not entirely. She almost saw herself as an equal to Clarke in some small way. It didn’t hurt that they had shared rather intimate moments together but perhaps that also came with questions Lexa probably did need to iron out a little more than had already been discussed.
“Wait,” the warrior said.
Lexa simply nodded her head and stood to the side as they came to a stop at the entrance to Clarke’s tent. She could just barely hear Clarke’s voice, the words muffled, her tone unmistakable.
But eventually the sounds of feet moving told her whatever Clarke was doing was over. The tent’s entrance was pulled aside and warriors slowly began to move out. Each one was dressed in armours, thick furs and heavy leathers. Some faces were scarred with the Azgeda markings, some tattooed and fierce, each one had what Lexa recognised as Clarke’s blood dripping down their foreheads and she wouldn’t question that either.
She recognised Ontari who met her gaze and nodded just once at her. She recognised Clarke’s father, too. He sent her a look just a little more kind before passing and then Lexa waited.
“Heda,” the warrior who had brought her called out. “She is here.”
“Send her in.”
Lexa swallowed thickly. She didn’t know why but for some reason she thought this next conversation a little more important than ones she had had in the past. Lexa ducked into the tent, her eyes took a moment to adjust to the changed lighting and then she came to a stop in the centre.
The tent was just as it had been before but this time there was no one else inside. The same throne sat in front of her, its body twisted wood and blades, spears and weathered to years of use.
Clarke sat atop her throne, her body draped across its shape as if she was part of it herself. The red sash she had first worn was present as it flowed down Clarke’s body and pooled at her feet and even the armour she wore seemed to breath in the dancing firelight.
Clarke’s face was a ghostly and as grey as it had always been but the black paint that dripped and clawed down her cheeks made her skin contrast more dangerously than ever before. Her eyes was as piercing blue as the knife she toyed with in her hand and her hair glowed in the firelight a molten gold.
“You wanted to see me?” Lexa said cautiously.
Clarke ignored her question for a long moment and Lexa watched as she slowly played with the knife between her fingers. Lexa didn’t know how Clarke avoided cutting herself but she always seemed to come away unscathed.
But eventually Clarke’s eyes snapped to her and there was a predatory glint in them that made Lexa frown.
“Yes,” Clarke’s voice was quiet. “I did.”
Clarke slinked off her throne, her motions serpentine and serene as she moved to stand in front of her. The only sound in the tent the red sash that flowed behind her with each step she took.
Lexa swallowed as Clarke came to stand just a little too close to her, as she invaded her space and let the knife dance between them. She really didn’t know what was happening, she couldn’t quite figure it out no matter how many things her mind threw at her in an attempt to understand the situation.
“You helped vanquish the Mountain,” Clarke said, she leant forward and inhaled deep into the crook of her neck. It sent a shiver down Lexa’s spine and she winced as she took an involuntary step back. “You helped slay the mightiest of enemies my people has ever faced.”
Lexa bit her lip as Clarke pushed forward, the knife still dancing between them slowly. Lexa grimaced as she almost tripped on a fur underfoot only to catch herself on a nearby table that had somehow appeared behind her.
And Lexa didn’t realise Clarke had walked them back, she didn’t realise she was now at the far end of the tent, her back to a table edge and Clarke staring at her with such intensity that she felt much more like the prisoner she had once been than who she had thought she was just moments before.
“There are whispers,” Clarke said quietly. “Whispers that you were the one to destroy the Mountain.”
For the first time Lexa felt a spike of danger in the air.
She wasn’t an expert in Clarke’s people, in how they saw things, in their customs and ways. But she knew enough that she could infer the meaning of what Clarke said.
But Lexa hadn’t got to where she was by backing down from a fight.
“Yeah,” she said, she levelled her chin at Clarke and she made sure she met her gaze without wavering. She saw something in Clarke’s eyes and she pressed the attack. “What are you going to do about it?”
It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, if she was being honest.
But she knew she had taken Clarke aback by the narrowing of her eyes and the way her breath stuttered for the quickest of fractions.
But that shock, that backfooting in the game they played was thrown in her face more quickly than Lexa could anticipate.
“Marry you.”
What?
“What?”
“Marry,” Clarke tapped her chest with the flat of the blade before slipping it back into place on her hip. “You.”
“I heard you the first time,” Lexa said as she frowned. “Not to be insensitive—” she was going to be insensitive. “But why?”
Clarke scoffed at the question and she didn’t move from where she all but pinned Lexa to the edge of the table.
“Wanheda,” Clarke said quietly. “The death of the Mountain has bestowed upon me, and perhaps to you, the title of Wanheda. The Commander of Death.”
Lexa frowned a little bit more but she could figure things out. Perhaps that explained why some warriors had been looking at her.
“This power can not be shared, Lexa of the sky people,” Clarke said quietly.
Lexa’s head tilted to the side slightly.
“So you’re going to marry me?”
She’d ignore the fact that she didn’t entirely dislike that idea until a later time.
“Yes,” Clarke said with a single shrug. “The other option was to remove your head.”
“Oh,” it shouldn’t have surprised Lexa after all this time. “Thanks, I guess?”
Clarke simply smiled as if that was such an obvious or normal choice one must make.
“Is this what the feast is about?” Lexa asked suddenly as horror began to dawn on her. She didn’t know if she was ready. Not yet.
Clarke’s lips twitched up at the corners at her reaction and Lexa felt herself beginning to shrink in on herself.
“No,” Clarke answered too slowly for Lexa’s comfort. “I am not so cruel as to spring a marriage on you without time to prepare.”
Lexa sighed, the breath that left her lungs was heavy, her heart had actually spiked and she could feel the adrenaline still surging through her veins. But as she slowly settled, as she slowly came to terms with that Clarke said, she realised it was so odd to be having the conversation she was having.
In another life Lexa knew she’d turn her nose up at any kind of arranged or forced marriage for this was what it was. But things were different and she had all but given up trying to tame them for the time being.
“We will announce a marriage in the weeks to come,” Clarke said, her voice a little softer, her eyes a little more calm now. “And we will marry. For convenience, to ensure peace may last.”
Lexa smirked as she lifted her chin.
“Oh, is that the only reason?” she let an eyebrow lift and she didn’t need to emphasise the times they had been physical, nor did she need to remind Clarke of the night they had spent in the cave what seemed like years ago.
It was Clarke’s time to smirk, but hers seemed just a little more evil given her appearance.
“Perhaps there are other reasons.”
Lexa rolled her eyes. Maybe she’d break Clarke one day, but she knew it wouldn’t be tonight, probably wouldn’t be for weeks or months. Maybe even years.
But as those thoughts came running through her head Lexa realised she didn’t really mind the idea of spending years by Clarke’s side. She had never expected to be thrown into a life so full of turmoil, uncertainties, conflicting emotions and ethical dilemmas. But she had and Lexa wasn’t going to take it all lying down.
And if getting married to a woman who probably saw things a little differently than her was what needed to happen? Well, then Lexa thought it not that bad a sacrifice.
And so Lexa of the Sky People threw caution to the wind and reached out, she grabbed Clarke’s face in her hands and she crashed their lips together in a kiss that would seal their people’s fate forever.