Chapter Text
Clarke's POV
The meeting earlier had been intense. Clarke expected that, but it didn't make it any easier. There was an electric energy in the room when Lexa took charge—a magnetic, almost intimidating presence that made it impossible to look away. Lexa’s command was undeniable, and Clarke couldn’t help but admire her strength. Yet, the distance between them now, the unspoken tension, felt just as suffocating as the pressure in the room during the talks.
After the meeting, Clarke, Kane, and Abby returned to Skaikru’s temporary base camp, flanked by Lexa’s guards. They hadn’t been allowed to bring their own security or weapons into the building, a reminder of the distrust still lingering between their people. This was Clarke’s first time really looking around the base. It was impressive—well-constructed, with large rooms and smaller sleeping quarters, all meticulously organized. It was clear that Lexa had considered their needs, even if the political tension made it hard for Clarke to feel fully comfortable.
As they entered the central living and dining area, it felt like stepping into the heart of the camp. The room buzzed with activity, filled with wires, tools, and half-finished projects. Raven was already hunched over a table, soldering a device with her usual intense focus. Bellamy was there too, pacing restlessly, his face twisted with worry.
When they walked in, all eyes turned toward them. Raven was the first to speak, her voice cutting through the room’s quiet murmurs.
“How did it go?” Raven asked sharply, setting down her tools.
Clarke hesitated for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down on her. "Better than expected," she admitted with a tired smile. "We have some support, but it’s really going to come down to what we present to the ambassadors tomorrow."
Kane stepped in, his presence a calm anchor in the room. "Our work isn’t finished yet," he said, echoing Clarke’s thoughts. The tension hung heavy in the air. Everyone knew the stakes, but Clarke couldn’t shake the lingering doubt: Could they truly make this alliance work? Could she trust Lexa completely again? And would Lexa really protect her people as her own?
Raven smirked, confident as always. “Good thing I have exactly what we need,” she said, her tone filled with certainty.
For the next few hours, Clarke worked with Raven, going through the different devices Raven had brought. She explained each one meticulously, showing Clarke how to use them and how best to present their technology to the ambassadors. Despite Raven's enthusiasm, Clarke felt her energy draining. It was only late afternoon, but she already felt more exhausted than she had in a long time.
After a while, Clarke realized she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. "Hey, Mom," she said, placing a gentle hand on Abby’s back to get her attention. "I’m going to lay down for a bit."
“Are you alright, honey?” Abby asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah, just really tired," Clarke admitted, feeling the exhaustion seep into her bones.
Bellamy, who had been watching them, immediately stepped in. “I’ll show you to my room so you can rest,” he offered. Clarke nodded gratefully and followed him up the stairs.
The room was small, with just a bed and a nightstand. Clarke glanced around, noticing a few personal items Bellamy had set up, including a couple of old photographs. One picture caught her eye—a young Bellamy with Octavia on his back, both of them grinning widely.
"How did you get this?" Clarke asked, picking up the photo.
Bellamy's expression softened. "Mom paid a guard to use an old instant camera," he explained.
Clarke smiled, setting the picture back down. She felt a wave of warmth at the sight of it. "Thanks for letting me use your room," she said, her gratitude genuine.
"Of course," Bellamy replied. "Let me know if you need anything."
Clarke nodded, already feeling the pull of sleep as she slipped off her shoes and lay down. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was out. For once, her dreams were peaceful, free of the haunting images that usually plagued her sleep.
She awoke to the sound of shuffling. Blinking blearily, it took her a moment to remember where she was. The room was dark, and she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted, she realized Bellamy was sleeping on the floor beside her, a blanket thrown haphazardly over him. Before she could process this, the door creaked open, letting in a sliver of light.
Clarke squinted, making out the silhouette of Lexa standing in the doorway. What is she doing here? The open door seemed to wake Bellamy as well. He shot up quickly, moving to stand protectively between Clarke and Lexa.
“Clarke, may I speak with you? Alone,” Lexa asked, her voice sharp. Clarke couldn't tell if her tone was directed at her or at Bellamy.
Sitting up, Clarke swung her legs over the side of the bed and began putting on her boots. “Just give me a second,” she muttered.
As she tied her shoes, she could feel the tension in the room. Bellamy's posture was defensive, and for a split second, she caught a look in Lexa’s eyes—jealousy. It was subtle, but it was there. Clarke had never seen Lexa like this before, almost... possessive.
“Bellamy, it’s alright,” Clarke said, trying to calm him. He didn’t relax entirely but stepped aside to let her pass.
Lexa turned on her heel, and Clarke took that as her cue to follow. Before she could leave, Bellamy gently grabbed her arm. “Be careful,” he warned quietly.
Clarke gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. Go back to sleep. I’ll head back to my room in the tower after this.”
“I’ll walk you,” Bellamy offered, the worry clear in his voice.
Clarke shook her head. “I’ll be safe with Lexa. Now, get some rest. Goodnight.”
Reluctantly, Bellamy nodded, watching her leave.
Downstairs, Clarke was surprised to see her mother still awake, sitting by the fireplace. Abby's expression softened as she noticed Clarke and Lexa enter the room. Rising to her feet, she walked over to embrace her daughter.
“How are you feeling?” Abby asked, her voice gentle.
“Much better,” Clarke admitted. It was true—she felt more rested than she had in a long time.
“We’re going to talk for a bit,” Clarke said, nodding towards Lexa. “Then I’ll head back to the tower.”
Abby gave Clarke a worried look but didn’t argue. “Be safe,” she whispered, giving Clarke’s shoulder a squeeze before heading off to bed.
Lexa remained silent, watching the exchange. Once Abby was out of sight, Clarke turned back to Lexa and was struck by her appearance. Lexa wore no war paint, her face bare and vulnerable. Her attire was simple, casual even, save for the sword on her back. She looked... different. Younger, almost.
“What did you want to talk about?” Clarke asked.
“Are you sick or injured?” Lexa’s voice was filled with concern.
“What? No, I’m fine,” Clarke said, frowning. “Why would you think that?”
“Your mother asked how you were feeling,” Lexa explained, as if it were obvious.
Clarke huffed out a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Now, what did you need?”
Lexa hesitated, as if debating whether to continue. “When I found out you weren’t in your chambers, I was concerned. I wanted to escort you back,” she admitted.
Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You came all the way here just to walk me back? I could have stayed here, you know.”
Lexa shifted slightly. “Yes, but… that’s not the only reason,” she said, her voice dropping to a softer tone.
Clarke’s curiosity piqued. “Then what is it?”
Lexa took a deep breath. “I wanted to show you Polis,” she confessed, her voice almost shy. “Not as the Commander, but as Lexa.”
Clarke blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in her words. “Why now?”
“Because this is the only time I can show it to you as myself, not as the leader,” Lexa admitted, her eyes searching Clarke’s for understanding.
Clarke’s expression softened. She gave a small nod. “Alright. Lead the way.”
Lexa visibly relaxed, a breath of relief escaping her as she turned towards the door. Clarke followed her outside, where the half-moon illuminated the city streets. A chill ran down her arms as she stepped into the cool night air, and she regretted not bringing a coat.
Lexa led them through a narrow alleyway, the sounds of the city fading behind them. For the first time in what felt like ages, Clarke allowed herself to just be in the moment, wondering what parts of Polis Lexa would show her and what stories she might share under the moonlit sky.
“Where are you taking me?” Clarke asked, her voice laced with curiosity. She quickened her pace to walk beside Lexa, who had been moving so swiftly that she had almost left her behind.
Lexa slowed down to match Clarke’s pace, her expression softening. “My apologies,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I got a little too excited about you agreeing to let me show you around the city.”
Clarke felt a stirring inside her. She wasn’t sure what to make of Lexa’s openness. How had she, of all people, become so vulnerable with her? Was it because they were alone, away from the pressures of leadership? Or had something about their bond changed since their first encounter?
Clarke glanced at Lexa, waiting for an explanation, but Lexa said nothing more. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a quiet understanding, a shared moment of peace in the midst of chaos. The city around them was eerily still, the streets empty in the stillness of night.
After a few moments, Lexa spoke again, breaking the silence. “When I was a child, I was taken from my family and brought here to Polis to train. I was groomed to be Commander, one day.”
Clarke’s heart softened at the weight of Lexa’s words. She looked at Lexa, trying to imagine what it must have been like to leave everything she had ever known at such a young age.
“How old were you?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious. She could only imagine the pressure and sacrifice Lexa must have endured to be where she was now.
“Eight,” Lexa replied, her voice quiet, almost wistful. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, a glimpse into a past that was never truly hers to choose.
Clarke felt the quiet settle around them once more. She wanted to ask more—wanted to press Lexa for more details, to learn everything she could about her—but she knew better than to push. Lexa had shared as much as she was willing to. Instead, Clarke decided to offer a piece of herself, something that might make Lexa feel less alone in her vulnerability.
“Well, when I was eight, my favorite movie was Where the Red Fern Grows,” Clarke said with a small laugh, remembering how she had watched it over and over again as a child. “I must have seen it a thousand times. I even forced my friend Wells to watch it with me, and he hated it.”
Lexa turned her head to look at Clarke, a quizzical expression crossing her face. “Do you not know that one?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lexa shook her head, her expression still confused. “I don’t even know what a movie is,” she admitted, and Clarke blinked in surprise.
“I mean,” Lexa continued, “I’ve read about the evolution of technology, but that’s as far as my knowledge goes. Movies... I don’t think we have anything like that.”
Clarke’s mouth opened in shock. She had assumed that, with everything they had in common, Lexa must have known about movies. But now she realized how different their worlds were. How had I not thought of that? she chastised herself.
“Oh,” Clarke said quietly, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood her cheeks. “Of course, you wouldn’t know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s alright,” Lexa said with a soft chuckle, clearly unbothered. She glanced sideways at Clarke. “You forget how different our lives have been, don’t you?”
Clarke’s heart clenched at the comment. It was true. Lexa had been groomed for leadership her entire life, while Clarke had grown up in space, fighting for survival with her people. Despite their shared experience of loss and hardship, they were still worlds apart.
“Sometimes I forget,” Clarke admitted, her voice quieter now. “How different our worlds are. How different we are. You’ve had to carry the weight of your people on your shoulders since you were so young. I… I can’t even imagine.”
Lexa’s gaze softened at Clarke’s words, but she didn’t say anything in response. Instead, they continued walking in silence, the sounds of their footsteps muffled in the stillness of the night.
They soon arrived at a large, open area that looked like a courtyard, surrounded by towering stone walls. The moonlight bathed the area in a soft glow, and Clarke could see the stone floors stretched out before them. It was breathtaking.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” Clarke murmured, taking in the view. The high stone walls gave the area an ancient, almost sacred feel. It was as though they had stepped into a hidden world, one that few had ever seen.
Lexa smiled faintly at Clarke’s reaction, but didn’t say anything at first. She simply watched Clarke take in the view, as though seeing the place through her eyes.
“What is this place?” Clarke asked, turning to face Lexa, her voice filled with awe.
“This is where I spent a lot of time growing up,” Lexa said. “These are the training grounds.”
Clarke raised an eyebrow. “No wonder you’re such a good fighter,” she said with a teasing smile. But there was a deeper admiration in her voice, something that made Lexa’s lips twitch upward for just a moment.
“Come,” Lexa said, her voice softer now. “Follow me. There’s something I want to show you.”
Clarke nodded, her curiosity piqued. Lexa led her to a side entrance, where they descended into a dark tunnel. Lexa grabbed a torch and lit it, the flickering flame casting eerie shadows on the stone walls as they moved deeper into the darkness.
After what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes, Lexa stopped in front of a small, empty room. The walls were made of cold stone, and in the center of the room was a large stone bed. Clarke was about to ask why they had stopped here when Lexa suddenly knelt down beside a stone structure and pulled a hidden lever.
The floor shifted, and a small area opened up. Clarke followed Lexa through the opening into a narrow passageway. It was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the scent of old stone. As they made their way down the passage, Lexa paused and lit a torch along the wall, revealing a ladder that seemed to go on forever.
Clarke stared up at the ladder, her stomach sinking. It stretched two stories high, and the thought of climbing it made her feel dizzy.
“You ready?” Lexa asked, her voice calm, but Clarke could see the flicker of concern in her eyes.
Clarke took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. You can do this, she thought, though her hands were already beginning to sweat. “Always,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.
Lexa gestured to the ladder. “You first,” she said, giving Clarke an encouraging smile.
Clarke nodded, her heart pounding as she grabbed the first rung. Slowly, she began to climb, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of her movements rather than the dizzying height. She could feel Lexa behind her, close enough that whenever Clarke felt the urge to look down, she was met with the reassuring sight of Lexa’s form instead of the frightening drop below.
It was a slow climb, and every muscle in Clarke’s body screamed in protest. Her hands were slick with sweat, but she forced herself to keep going, determined to reach the top.
“We’re almost there,” Lexa called, her voice breaking through the fog of Clarke’s thoughts. The sound of Lexa’s voice gave Clarke a surge of strength, and she pushed herself upward, faster now, until she finally reached the top.
When Clarke’s feet finally hit solid ground, she let out a relieved sigh. She took a moment to steady herself before looking around the small room. A single window let in just enough light to illuminate the space. Clarke walked toward it, her gaze immediately drawn to the view below. She could see the training grounds stretching out beneath her, the moonlight casting long shadows across the stone.
“What is this place?” she asked, her voice filled with awe as she turned back to Lexa.
“This was one of my hiding spots,” Lexa said, her tone low, almost wistful.
“The big, bad Commander has hiding spots?” Clarke teased, her smile playful.
“To be fair, I was just a child then,” Lexa replied with a small shrug, though there was a slight smile on her lips.
Clarke’s gaze softened as she looked at Lexa. For all her strength, Lexa had still been a child once, and like any child, she had longed for something more. “You were just trying to be... normal,” she murmured, her voice gentle.
Lexa let out a soft hum in response, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in Clarke’s words. "Mhmm, whatever you say." She teased, her lips curling into a slight smile.
As they stood in the small, dimly lit room, Clarke's eyes drifted over to the corner, where a wooden makeshift chair sat, draped with a small woolen blanket. Next to it, a row of five books rested on the stone floor, their edges worn, their pages yellowed with age. Curiosity piqued, Clarke knelt down, carefully running her finger along the bindings. She was surprised to find that all of them were children’s fantasy books—stories of magic and adventure.
Surely, commander training didn’t involve these kinds of books. Clarke couldn’t help but look back at Lexa, who had been unusually quiet as she watched Clarke. It was as though Lexa could read her mind.
"I often misbehaved," Lexa said softly, the words carrying a weight Clarke hadn’t expected.
Clarke glanced over her shoulder at Lexa, holding her gaze. She could see the vulnerability in Lexa’s eyes, an openness she hadn't shown before. She didn’t say anything but simply waited, and to Clarke’s surprise, Lexa continued.
“We weren’t allowed to read such literature,” Lexa said, her voice tinged with both regret and defiance. “Luckily, Titus never found out. But I couldn’t get enough. Most of the books were destroyed, but over the years, I’ve managed to get my hands on a few.”
Clarke nodded thoughtfully, her fingers still trailing across the fragile pages. She picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and opened it to the first page. There, in the corner, was an inscription: Lex, never stop dreaming—Costia.
The name hit Clarke like a cold wave. She knew it well. Costia. She remembered hearing it before—the day she had to say goodbye to Finn. Her heart sank with the memories of that painful day.
“I lost someone important to me too,” Clarke said softly, almost without thinking. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the grief of her own past. “Costia.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Lexa reacted—quick, almost too quickly. She snatched the book from Clarke's hands, causing Clarke to flinch in surprise.
“Sorry,” Clarke said immediately, feeling guilty for intruding on what was clearly a private memory. “I didn’t mean to…”
Lexa froze for a moment, her gaze flickering between the book and Clarke. The brief flicker of panic in her eyes softened into a quiet apology.
“My apologies, Clarke. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I didn’t realize your kind was able to read,” Lexa muttered, almost too casually.
Clarke frowned, confused. My kind?
“Oh, yeah. All Skaikru can read,” Clarke explained. “Well, except for the youngest children. But that’s just because they haven’t learned yet. Don’t you all read?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious.
Lexa hesitated before replying, the words coming out slower. “No, only those who hold the top ranks of power,” she admitted, her voice quiet as if saying it out loud made it more real.
That surprised Clarke, especially given how well the Grounders seemed to speak English.
“But you all speak multiple languages,” Clarke remarked, looking at Lexa, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Only warriors learn English,” Lexa explained. “Each clan has its own tongue, but English is taught as a second language to those who must communicate with the other clans. It’s... necessary.”
Clarke processed this, feeling the vast differences in their cultures. It was a humbling reminder of how much she still had to learn about Lexa and her people.
"Come," Lexa said, her voice shifting to a more playful tone, almost as if to change the subject. "I want to show you more of my favorite places."
“So you have more hiding places?” Clarke teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“All throughout the city,” Lexa replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
After the terrifyingly long descent down the ladder, the two made their way back through the quiet training yard and into the square. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt like they were beginning to understand each other in a way that words couldn’t quite capture.
“This is where most shops and trades are located,” Lexa explained, her voice a little warmer now. “But I’ll have to show you during the day. It’s truly magnificent to experience when the sun is up.”
Clarke looked around, the square empty in the quiet of the night, and raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?” she asked. “Why didn’t you show me during the day?”
Lexa’s expression softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “This was the only time I could show you around as Lexa, not the Commander. Besides, I’ve always liked exploring the city at night. It was the only time I had to myself... to breathe. As Commander, every second of my day is planned. I never had time for things like this.”
Clarke’s heart ached at the words. No wonder she’s so guarded. It felt as though Lexa had spent her whole life carrying the weight of responsibilities, never truly allowed to just live for herself.
“What is the Conclave?” Clarke asked, her curiosity piqued. She saw Lexa stiffen slightly beside her, and for a moment, she thought Lexa might not answer.
“It’s how our next leader is chosen,” Lexa said quietly, her gaze distant. But she didn’t elaborate, and Clarke, sensing that Lexa wasn’t ready to go into more detail, decided not to press.
The two of them continued walking side by side, the silence between them comfortable. Clarke realized that Lexa, despite everything—despite being the Commander—was just a person. She had feelings, fears, desires just like Clarke. The thought made Clarke’s chest tighten.
As they approached the edge of the city, the walkway narrowed, and the sounds of the city seemed to fade away. They arrived at a small, secluded garden, hidden behind high stone walls. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat at the unexpected beauty of the place—a quiet oasis, a moment of peace amidst the chaos of Polis.
Lexa spoke softly, as if to herself, her voice filled with a quiet sadness. “This is where I come when things get too... heavy,” she said. Her eyes were distant, as if looking back on memories Clarke couldn’t fully understand. “When I need to think. To remember who I am, beneath all the titles and duties.”
Clarke watched her closely, sensing the vulnerability that Lexa was allowing herself to show. It was a side of Lexa she hadn’t expected—a side that wasn’t cold or commanding, but simply human.
“I didn’t expect... this side of you,” Clarke admitted, her voice quiet but sincere. “You always seem so strong, so certain.”
Lexa glanced at her, and for a moment, there was a crack in her walls. A small, but significant, crack. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked softly. “No one is certain, Clarke. I’m certain of many things. But not everything. Not even myself, sometimes.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Clarke felt something shift inside her—a mixture of admiration, empathy, and something more. Something deeper. She wanted to say something, to comfort Lexa, but the words didn’t come. She couldn’t find the right way to bridge the gap between them, to make Lexa understand.
“Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that you may be right,” Clarke whispered back.
As they walked through the garden in silence, taking in the beauty around them, Clarke was once again stopped in her tracks. She saw something etched into the bark of a nearby tree—a carving of words, carefully inscribed.
C- Yu gonplei ste odon. Your fight is over, Clarke read, her fingers lightly tracing the carving.
She stepped back, glancing over at Lexa, whose face had softened, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and remembrance. Clarke could see the hurt that still lingered in her—the loss of Costia, the person Lexa had loved and lost.
“How did she die?” Clarke asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as she met Lexa’s gaze.
Lexa exhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the memory. For a long moment, Clarke wasn’t sure she was going to answer. But then Lexa spoke, her voice low and filled with sorrow.
“She was captured and tortured by the Ice Queen when I first began my quest to unite all twelve clans,” Lexa said, her eyes distant as if trying to distance herself from the reality of it. “I didn’t even know she was captured until... until I was sent.”
Clarke’s heart broke at the pain in Lexa’s voice. The raw emotion was so unexpected that she couldn’t help but step forward, her instincts pulling her closer to the woman who had always seemed untouchable, so distant and composed. But here, in the quiet of the garden, Lexa was more vulnerable than Clarke had ever seen her.
Lexa paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and for a moment, Clarke wondered if she was going to say anything more. The anger and the sorrow that filled Lexa’s gaze told the story more than words could.
“She died because of me,” Lexa repeated softly, almost to herself, as if trying to make sense of it. The words, filled with guilt, lingered in the air like a heavy fog.
Clarke felt a deep ache in her chest as she watched Lexa try to remain strong, the grief barely held back behind the cold mask of the Commander. But Clarke knew better than anyone what that kind of pain felt like. She had her own ghosts, her own losses that weighed heavily on her heart.
“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered, her voice soft, the words as much for herself as they were for Lexa. She wanted to reach across the divide between them, to somehow ease the burden that Lexa carried, a burden Clarke knew all too well.
The moment stretched on, but before Clarke could offer more comfort, Lexa quickly stepped back, a flicker of discomfort flashing in her eyes.
“I should probably get you back to your quarters. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired,” Lexa said, her voice steady again, the walls returning.
Clarke could feel the shift, the sudden distance. But she didn’t push. She understood.
The two of them made their way back toward the heart of the city in silence. The only sound was the crunch of the dirt beneath their feet as they walked. Neither of them spoke, but the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a kind of understanding, an unspoken bond forged in shared grief. They both knew the weight of loss, even if their losses were different.
It wasn’t long before they reached Clarke’s quarters. Lexa stopped at the door, her posture rigid but her gaze softer than usual.
“Thank you for tonight, Commander,” Clarke said, turning to face her. She had learned so much about Lexa in the short time they had spent together—more than she ever expected.
Lexa’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, the kind of smile that held so many layers behind it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I’ll show you the city during the day sometime—perhaps even the sauna rooms,” she teased lightly, her voice warmer than before.
Clarke smiled back, a small, wistful smile. “I would like that very much. Goodnight, Commander.”
“Goodnight, Clarke, kom Skaikru,” Lexa replied, her words a soft, respectful farewell.
And with that, Lexa turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the night. Clarke stood in the doorway, watching her leave, the emptiness of her room suddenly more pronounced.
As the door closed behind her, Clarke felt an unfamiliar ache in her chest. It wasn’t just the loneliness of being in an empty room; it was the longing to see Lexa again, to understand her more, to be a part of the quiet moments Lexa had shared. It wasn’t something Clarke had expected, but she couldn’t deny it.
She leaned against the door for a moment, letting the silence wash over her. What is this? she wondered. The thought lingered, unanswered, as she stood there alone in the stillness, wishing for something more—something that felt like it was just out of reach.