Clexa One Shots

It's a bloodsport

She crushes that mental image like the branches under her feet as she marches ahead. She thinks of anything but Clarke. Anything but Lexa. She thinks of Bellamy and Lincoln and the people she's fighting for. The reasons she's here. She doesn't fight for the Commander. She's here for the mission, she's not here for Clarke. She's here because she takes orders from Lexa, not because she trusts her. She's here for her brother. For Lincoln. For Raven. For the people of TonDC. For the people who couldn't be here.

But Lexa is a good commander, she can't deny her that.

It's Lexa that sees the first sniper.

She yells an order in trigedasleng, sending the twenty or so warriors around them into action. Octavia doesn't catch a lot of what happens next. First comes the shouts, then comes the fight.

She raises her weapon and gets her bearings just in time for three men to drop from the trees between her and another grounder. She takes two of them down, the other grounder stabbing the third intruder through the chest. The shouts coming from the grounders sends adrenaline pumping through her veins. Everything she's learned runs through her mind all at once, same as always.

Slash, don't stab.

Don't wait to strike.

Don't let them get close.

If they get close, get them on their back.

No hesitation.

She takes down four more men without even thinking. Animal instinct. They're nasty fighters, aggressive. Well trained, nothing like the reapers. There's shouting, slicing, screaming, the sounds of battle and combat filling the air, mixed with a cry from Indra in Trigedasleng.

Ambush.

They're not fast enough. She's not fast enough, Indra isn't fast enough, nobody is fast enough, and they're coming at them too quickly. This was a trap, it was always a trap.

There's a cry from somewhere in the trees. She can't see her, but she knows it's Lexa screaming in pain.

Then come the gunshots - fast and relentless. Somewhere, Clarke is unloading round after round into the enemy soldiers. She counts six shots, then a pause, and six more before the fighting stops, the enemy retreating. Octavia stops long enough to recognize the clothing they wear.

Azgeda. The same people who fought alongside them in the war against Mount Weather, the people who turned on them the moment they didn't need their alliance anymore.

Natrona, she thinks. The worst kind.

When she finally refocuses on what's happening in the crowd, she sees Clarke hunched over Lexa. The Commander is on her stomach, and Clarke is ripping the red cloth from her shoulder guard - which in it of itself has to be breaking some kind of crime against the Commander - and handing it to a healer. Lexa has an arrow through her shoulder, and Clarke props her up against her knee. She braces herself before forcing it through the other side and snapping off the head of the arrow.

Lexa doesn't move, doesn't even make a sound.

Someone leans in towards Clarke and mentions this, and that's the very definition of a bad idea. Clarke gives them the kind of look that makes them regret mentioning this, and possibly every other word they've ever said in their life. She takes the red cloth and wraps it around Lexa's shoulder.

"We need to move her." The warriors watch carefully. Nobody makes a move. "Now," She adds, and the tone of her voice is terrifying enough to move mountains. But Octavia knows that voice. If anyone's scared, it's Clarke.

From the look of it, Lexa could be alive or dead. For the sake of the look on Clarke's face, Octavia hopes she's only unconscious. She looks like she cares. Really cares. But then again, it's Clarke. She always cares. Octavia ignores whatever she feels when she sees the way Clarke clings to Lexa's side as the other healers carry her. She looks almost frantic, shouting orders and leading them through the woods.