Commander's Redemption | Clexa

Chapter 22

Several days, maybe another four or five of that same, horrendous routine had passed by now and Clarke didn't think she was doing too well.

The coughing hadn't let up, breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as her lungs burned in her chest, and despite the cold, her body was burning hot all the time all the while she was freezing cold and shivering constantly. Her ribs felt worse now than ever. Her stomach was cramping up painfully from hunger, her lips had cracked open from the cold and dehydration, and her body was covered in over three hundred deep, painful cuts, some of which felt and looked like they were on the verge of an infection if they weren't already infected. And Clarke was so tired.

That number of cuts almost made Clarke smile. They were nearing the end. This was almost over. Soon, she wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore.

Clarke closes her eyes again and doesn't even open them when she hears the tent flaps rustling, indicating someone has entered her space. It didn't matter much anyway. She knew the drill by now. They would remove the chain, drag her out, torture her, and put her back here. She couldn't resist because her guards were too strong, there were too many of them, and she was too weak, even if she would have been healthy. But she wasn't healthy, so there was even less of a point in trying anything to escape now. She had to just let it happen.

When she hadn't been touched and her chain was still attached to her collar a full minute later, Clarke slowly opens one of her heavy eyelids.

The other shoots open a lot quicker when she sees who is standing in front of her.

"Lexa...'" Clarke croaks, her throat burning, but a small sliver of hope flickering somewhere inside of her.

The Commander is standing right in front of her in full regalia. She has her sash on, and her shoulder guard is strapped around her chest. She is wearing her full armor, and her cuffs are covering her wrists. Her double swords are strapped safely to her back in their scabbards, and she is holding her dagger in her hand. Her face and clothes are covered in blood, but Clarke sighs in relief when she realizes it is all red. None of it is Lexa's. Good.

"Lexa, you came for me?" Clarke starts again with a soft, uncertain voice, questioningly.

Lexa looks down at her, her face blank.

Then, Lexa lifts her hand over her head, holding the dagger with a tight grip as she stalks closer to Clarke.

Confused, Clarke tries to scramble backwards, but her legs are tangled in the blanket.

"Lexa, what are you doing?" Clarke says, her voice now laced with panic.

Lexa steps even closer and Clarke raises both of her hands over herself and closes her eyes, trying to protect herself at the same time as Lexa's arm comes barreling down towards her, wielding the dagger.

"Please!" Clarke yells out hoarsely.

But the sharp pain of the blade sinking into her never comes.

Clarke opens her eyes and looks around wildly, but Lexa is gone. She is alone again, still chained and tied up, still freezing cold, and still in a tremendous amount of pain.

--

Lexa was slowly becoming restless. Over the past few days, she hadn't been able to get out of the Tower to go for one of her runs or meditate in her favorite spot in the forest seeing as the snow was still piled up too high. And that sharp, shooting pain had returned more than once as well. Luckily, she had been more prepared after that first time so that she could usually brace herself and breathe through it with clenched teeth whenever it happened with others around.