The 100 One Shots

Love Is (Clexa)

Lexa was only a few minutes old, still covered with the blood from her birth, when Anya noticed the words on her arm.

Anya was young then, barely into her teenage years. But already she had been chosen as the one who would raise the commander. Just as Lexa was the spirit of their commander reincarnated, Anya's body contained the spirit of her teacher – the same two souls reborn each new generation, the teacher always coming before the commander, ready to raise her up and forge her for battle, just as she had done many times before. The newborn commander was immediately placed in Anya's arms, and so Anya was the first to realize that the commander's soulmate was not among their people.

Anya was only just beginning her studies in English, but she knew enough to recognize the shape of the letters, different than anything written in their language.

"Look," Anya said, and turned to present the Commander's arm to the medicine man. He was cleaning the woman who had given birth, helping to ease her body through the afterbirth and wiping the blood from her legs, but now he paused and turned toward Anya. His eyes widened.

English had only one use. It was the language of the Mountain Men, passed down through Anya's people for the express purpose of being able to understand their enemies. It was a dirty language, a cursed language, and they would not let it pass their lips any more than necessary. To be born with that language on your arm could only mean that you were meant to love someone from the Mountain, and it was enough to turn your entire existence into an act of treason. Those with an English soulmate could never be trusted, less they turn against their people and embrace the Mountain's evil, for everyone knew that the bond between soulmates was the only bond that even came close to matching the bond between a person and their tribe.

But the commander would not betray them.

In fact, they came to realize that the opposite had occurred. Far from becoming a traitor, this incarnation of the commander was meant to be their salvation.

It wasn't unheard of for your child to be born with their soulmate's name written in a language that you didn't understand. The Ark was made up of twelve different stations, all from different countries – Abby wasn't entirely sure how many languages still survived, but it was definitely more than she'd ever be able to learn in her lifetime. Aside from the fact that each station had its own official language – though most spoke English as well, for ease of communication – there were groups dedicated to preserving lesser-known languages that in danger of dying out completely, and many of them raised their children to speak it before they learned anything else.

Even so, Abby thought that she'd at least be able to recognize all of the different types of letters that were still in use on the Ark. As she stared down at the letters on the Clarke's arm – a faint gray against her pale skin – she realized that she had been wrong.

Beside her, Jake chuckled, reaching over to gently touch the downy hairs on the top of Clarke's head. "I'll be interested in seeing what language that ends up being," he said, moving his hand down and barely tracing the letters along her skin, as though she was almost too precious to be touched (and she was, she was the most precious thing in the Ark, and so perfect).

Abby smiled, and leaned back to rest against Jake's chest. "At least it shouldn't be hard to find her soulmate, when she's ready," she said.

There were different schools of thought as to when was the right time to look for your child's soulmate. Some said that it was best for the soulmates to grow up together, to always have each other to turn to. Others maintained that puberty and the teenage years were hard enough without having the added stress of a soulmate. It was better to find them after you'd already grown up and made your mistakes, and were ready to enter into a permanent relationship. Abby and Jake had known each other since they were only five years old, and Abby still shuddered to think about the fights they'd had as teenagers, the kinds that had nearly torn them apart completely. She wanted to spare her daughter that pain, save her soulmate for when Clarke was mature enough to handle it. Jake, of course, argued the opposite. He pointed out that the fights hadn't actually ruined their relationship – far from it, they had made their love stronger. Shouldn't Clarke have the same experience?