Lightning Only Strikes Once - Clexa

Chapter 68: Think of the Children

Clarke seems to think there is a way the spirit interacts with her science – perhaps if Lexa dies Clarke can find a way to give the spirit to Aden. Perhaps not. In any case, she cannot depend on Titus surviving. If Nia wishes him dead, he is probably dead already. If she wishes him to live he will be alive. Acting immediately or delaying for three months will not affect that decision. If Lexa begins receiving his body parts, perhaps there will be cause to discuss this. Otherwise it is irrelevant.

"I must return home," the Azgeda ambassador says desperately. "I can tell my people that the Azplana is natrona, that she allied with the Maunon. We will handle it ourselves."

"Ha!" Uzac spits. "We should lock you up, not let you go north to tell our plans to the natrona you serve."

"I do not serve her!" the Azgeda yells back at him, pale skin flushing with rage as well. He rakes his long blonde hair back from his face with a frustrated hand, visibly trying to calm himself. "The Maunon are – were – our worst enemies. I would never aid them, nor serve those who aid them. If I can convince the rest of my people -"

"And how would you convince them?" Lexa asks reasonably.

He hesitates. "I, I would bring the Azgeda who told us..." he pauses and frowns. "I..." he looks up at her, and something in his gaze is that of a kicked pet, betrayed and disbelieving. His voice lowers and becomes dull. "They would not believe me. I would die long before I could convince any." This realisation seems to break something within him, the strength in his blue eyes crumbling away to be replaced by horrified blankness.

Lexa almost wants to tell him that she is sorry. His belief is sincere, his desire to take down Nia unrelenting. But just like Uzac, he is blinded by those desires. She sighs. "We will continue this tomorrow," she snaps. "Perhaps we will not be able to attack until spring. Or perhaps we can attack from Floudonkru land, or send assassins north to find Nia, or even just guard the borders so we choke the Azgeda lands until they bleed ice. But there is an answer, and we shall find it. There is a plan." She wishes Clarke was here. Clarke's plans are as unexpected as she is. No doubt when she arrives in a week she will have an angle Lexa has not considered, a ploy that Lexa would never come up with.

Lexa stalks out of the room and heads immediately for the only place she wishes to be. She is hardly through the door when they are upon her.

"Heda," Aden is the first one to speak, a grin splitting his face in half, the leader of the pack as always. She knows all of them expect him to be the next Heda, except Aden himself, but she tries not to think of that because the thought of the Conclave saddens her. They are hers, all of them, the closest thing to children she will ever have – or would ever want. "Heda, it is good to see you."

They are all well-behaved enough not to mob her like birds, but they still stare at her with something between the adoration given to deities and the affection given to family, crowding around as close as they can get without being too close. They brighten and straighten when she meets their eyes, glowing with pride. Clarke called them her ducklings, once, and some days she can see where Clarke got the expression from.

"Greetings, Natblida," Lexa says formally.

"Greetings, Heda," they chorus. Dazi the dreamer is, as always, a few seconds behind the group, and Saska elbows him to make him catch up. She often does such things, determined to make her closest friend and bro the best Natblida he can be.

Sometimes they break her heart. She reminds herself that at least she will not live to watch them die. That is the one mercy given to the Commander.

"Saska," Lexa says, hiding her smile.

"Sha, Heda," Saska says, trying to look innocent and only succeeding in looking guiltier. She expects Lexa to reprimand her as Titus so often does, telling her that these attachments will not serve her well at the Conclave, that she must sever them to survive.

"There are three pillars of being the Commander," Lexa tells her. "Which were you just showing?"

There's a long pause, then Saska's smile returns, and she says, "Compassion?"

"Sha," Lexa tells her. "But not just compassion. You show wisdom in securing an ally, and strength in risking a scolding to aid your bro." She smiles down at Saska, and then includes the rest of the group in her pleasure. "I am lucky to have such a crop of Natblida that any one of you would make a worthy Heda."

They all grin, some of them twisting on the spot with the exuberance of youth, before forcing their bodies into stillness and their faces into impassiveness.

"Aden," Lexa says, snapping her gaze to him. He straightens further until he almost seems to be standing on his toes, trying to look strong. "How has training gone?"

"Os, Heda," Aden says, inclining his head in a solemn way that seems bizarrely beyond his years. But then, like hers, his age does not matter. Those born to lead are also born old. "The gona you ordered to train us have focused on our skills with a bow."

"Better them than I," Lexa says ruefully, thinking of her poor bow skills. They look shocked at her words, and she remembers they have spent no time with her since the advent of Clarke kom Kongeda into her life and are therefore unused to her slightly less serious attitude. "I am sorry I have been unable to visit since I arrived. I needed to speak to the ambassadors, organise defences for Polis and the alliance, check on the integration of Skaikru, decide a number of punishments for crimes, settle three trade disputes, and ensure my former Fos Anya was able to begin her duties here. But that is no excuse for neglecting you. I was very tired, but I should have made time."

"But you are Heda," Aden objects, looking at her in surprise. For a second she thinks he's confused by her apology, but then she realises what he means and is unable to suppress her smile.

"Even the Commander is tired sometimes, Aden," she tells him. "We give our lives to our people as surely as we ask them to give theirs to us, but giving that does not make us more than human. A gona becomes exhausted fighting a battle, but we must fight a war. A fisa becomes exhausted keeping a few people healthy, but we must keep the whole alliance healthy. A ticha becomes exhausted teaching their class, but we must teach all of our people the way forward. We will always be wearier than any of our people. A Commander is given rights, power, knowledge, and dreams of the past, but we are not given the ability to survive without rest. Eventually, all must rest." She thinks of Clarke, wishing she could be curled against her now. It is harder than she thought it would be to sleep without Clarke's warmth beside her.

She smiles again, lightening the mood. "Now. Fetch your bows, and show me what you have learnt, Natblida."

There's a brief moment of uncertainty, and then they are all trying to bow at once, Dazi trips over himself and is hauled up by Saska, Aden pauses for a second to look at Lexa with blatant adulation in his eyes, Haran races off first to show off his greater running speed, Enja flips her hair back in the odd little gesture she always uses, and Lexa's heart breaks a little again.

When she first met them, she accepted all but one of her Natblida would die. But since then she has done so many impossible things, everything from defeating the Mountain to travelling in time to beginning to implement 'blood must not have blood'. Although falling in love has helped, Clarke has not taught Lexa compassion – she believes she knew that already, if not in quite the same context as the Skaikru define it. But Clarke has taught her that this world can be changed, the boundaries stretched and broken, the impossible achieved.

Lexa knows how she wishes to change the world. She will not let her Natblida die. Perhaps in the other world Aden survived and became a far greater Commander than she was, but she cannot accept that in this world if the price is the lives of the others, not when she has more power and support than ever before. In the other world her people were turning against her already and she could barely change anything. Here, perhaps this is something she can fix, so that even when she goes to her death she will not have to think of Saska's eyes staring blankly or Haran's blood seeping onto the floor.

She decides. Tomorrow she will not discuss the Azgeda with her ambassadors. Tomorrow she will discuss her children.