archenemy | clexa

twenty eight

The kiss doesn't stay the only thing that expands their unspeakable acts into daytime.

There's a tension now, but it's a strange one, not as clear as anger or desire, not charged hatefully or sexually. It's exchanging glances when they shouldn't, it's Lexa killing an Azgedan soldier in battle that gets too close to Clarke so Clarke doesn't have to, it's Clarke wordlessly bringing dinner for Lexa when they've always had their meals seperately.

She doesn't even have a reason for it in Lexa's eyes; Lexa is fine and well, a little tired after battle but not in the need for her dinner to be brought. Clarke sits down across her at the wartable and stares into her soup, then eats quietly without giving an explanation.

"I helped clear the bodies off the field tonight," she says somewhen, monotonely.

"You shouldn't have."

"They needed help."

"They could've found someone else. That's not your job."

Clarke shrugs. "It's nobody's job." She's still not looking at Lexa. "Do you really think the bodies will give the families peace? That a ceremony will give the dead ones peace?"

"It gives the family peace, yes. Belief can be strong Clarke, you should know that as a Goddess. They believe they can bring the dead ones into the afterlife in peace, that they can give them good wishes. Don't you know that? Are you the Goddess of Death, or of life, or of something different altogether?"

"It's complicated. I cannot control death or what comes afterwards."

"But you can kill with your firearms."

"Yeah."

"And still hate killing?"

"I didn't choose any of this," Clarke says. "I didn't choose being here, I didn't choose leading my people, I didn't choose war, I'm just dealing with what I've been given. I wish I didn't have to. If I could talk about it more to you, I would. Maybe you'll understand somewhen. I didn't use to be like this. I used to paint and do dumb shit and hang out with my friends and annoy my mom. I never chose Earth. I never chose all the death."

"You didn't choose Earth? I thought- I thought you were out for my people?"

Clarke laughs dryly. "What, you think I would go through all this just to command a few humans when you call me the Goddess of the sky and stars? I liked the stars, Lexa. They're more peaceful than your people, or Azgeda's people, or my people."

"And what about Earth itself? You didn't choose that either? I thought that if you might be the Goddess of life, you'd enjoy life down here. The beautiful side of it."

"How much of that have I experienced? How much of that have you experienced? How much of that have all the people experienced who have died in this war so far?"

"I cannot tell you. You must come to terms with the things that you cannot change. I don't know if the dead were happy, and it is not of importance now. The dead are gone Clarke, and the living are hungry. You must move on."

"It's on my skin, Lexa. I washed my hands so much that they're all sensitive and they still feel the cold, dead limbs. I still smell of decay. How am I supposed to move on?" Tears are now shimmering in Clarke's eyes and she doesn't even attempt to fight them down.

"Come on, I will let in a bath for you that will make your body warm and your skin smell of flowers."

-

Clarke instantly feels her body return to her as soon as she's in the bath. Lexa sits behind her on the floor and, to Clarke's surprise (she's a little surprised at the way the whole evening unfolded, at how little Lexa hates her just that night), Lexa gently washes her hair.

Still, Clarke's mind is on the battlefield, still at war, still at the countless deaths. "Have you ever thought that the hundreds of people who died all had a life just like yours and mine? Have you ever thought that billions upon billions of people have died in the past? Everybody has fucking died. We always feel so immortal and like our life is so special and important and like we have several decades left, but fuck that, chances are I won't survive tomorrow. And no one will even remember. None of it matters after death. There will be a little mourning for a few years by my closest loved-ones, perhaps, but no one will care after that."

"I expect death to come any day. That's the way I was taught, that's the way of Hedas. In fact, I am averagely old for a Commander."

Clarke laughs humorlessly and shakes her head. "You know that if you die tonight, no one will know your name in a century? Any stupid war might have ended up forgotten, especially if our side wins, because then it won't make any big changes in your world. You will be forgotten, too."

"I know. I will be forgotten next week if I die today, Clarke. Perhaps some will remember the fourth Heda as the one who united the clans. That's what I did that matters. No one will remember my face, or my name, or how my voice sounded. None of it matters. I could have a differently shaped nose, brown eyes or grey eyes, smaller lips or shorter hair, I could have a softer voice or less scars, but in the end, no one will remember. My body does not matter, my name does not matter, my life does not matter except of course my services, none of it. You know I was born to serve my people. Nothing more than that will ever be of matter."

"That's not true. It all matters, don't you get it? You know how many peoples there have been in the past, how many great leaders, how many acts of service to some throne? They're all gone. Every empire thought it was built to last but none did, not even those who had conquered half the world. Yes, what you do matters because your people must survive, but it's politics. It's a mere job.

"Don't you understand that the greatest writers and artists and innovators and leaders are all gone and there is barely anything left? Don't you understand that nothing will ever immortalize you? You're so wrong, all of it matters, your nose and your scent and your eyes and the sound of your voice and the stories behind your scars and your name. Your thoughts, the things that you enjoy and these feelings you call weakness, nothing matters more than that. What the fuck else is your life, Lexa? You think people will care about your unshakeable stoicism and inhumanity, your 'perfection' and 'strength'?"

"It's who I need to be!"

"To whom? To yourself? To your teachers or your political partners or your people or who the fuck?"

"Nothing else matters because if I'm not like that, I don't achieve! If I'm not like that, I'm nothing!" Lexa's voice is shaking. She has quit washing Clarke's hair and forces herself to take a breath to repeat quieter, "If I'm not like that, I'm nothing."

"That's not true. The person who made you think that probably profits off your work. You know that's not life, right? I'll be really honest with you, I don't know what death means either, perhaps it simply means withering to the same nothing you were before birth. That's when you're nothing, Lexa! When you're alive, you're everything more than that.

"Haven't you ever fucking thought about it? The greatest lovers of all times are over now, the people who have spiralled into madness are a calm breath of dust, the enemies that have had a soul-eating hate inside of them do not know each other's names any more, doesn't that make you feel anything? It's everything. Your life might the only time you can have something that makes you feel and you might as well only have an hour left of it, but sure, go and plan a war or worry about your image in other people's eyes."

But Lexa doesn't do that. She motions silently for Clarke to get out of the bathtub and then she kisses her, more intensely and passionately than she has ever done anything, like the only thing that truly mattered in life were Clarke's lips and the desire they let flow in Lexa's veins. Clarke doesn't fail to respond in the same manner, until they have stumbled to the bed and with their naked bodies so closely entangled, the world could have ended that night and it would have had to burn down a fire. Clarke said the most impactful empires are over, but Lexa feels Clarke's hands possess every inch of her and is convinced that nothing that existed in the past has ever been so important.

If the greatest lovers and the most soul-consuming haters are over now, then what are they? What are they, if not exactly that?

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