Together as now, (forever as one).

Soulmates. It’s a very abstract idea; one that isn’t really defined, yet asserted by many, idealized by all.

It entails a certain number of factors. Timing is the first one. The main one. Timing is everything. It has to do with luck, too. Sometimes you don’t have that. Sometimes, you don’t have any of that. You miss the chance; you’re the victim of circumstances and context. What do you do then? You fight, if you have the strength. If you have the will.

Will-does it still exist in such a concept? Do you still have a choice, in who you love and fight for?

How does it all work? Can you still claim to be in control of your decisions? Sure, you choose each other the very first time. Clarke and Lexa did, at least. They did choose each other, and have fallen victims to the tragedy of their story.

Would they still have chosen differently? And now, would they still choose each other without the knowledge of fate hovering over them?

Is love the decisive factor here?

Maybe.

-

The next time Clarke and Lexa meet, they almost don’t remember at all until the very last moment.

You won’t miss the irony; as this life is, up until now, one of the longest they shared together.

They meet young. Queen Abby and King Jake are ruling peacefully over a calm and happy realm. Clarke is the princess, the heiress.

Lexa grows up in the castle too. They meet young. They’re friends, the best you’ve ever known.

“I’m going to be Queen someday,” a young Clarke tells Lexa, after the latter is finished with her guard training. “And you’ll be the best guard at the castle; you’ll watch over me. That way, we’ll always be together.”

Ten year old Lexa doesn’t quite understand why her heart beats so fast at the idea, why it feels like more than the sense of duty filling her chest in agony.

She vows to herself to always look after Clarke, the petite blonde that climbs trees and runs wild in corn fields, while the brunette trails behind, twirling branches and sticks in the air; already eager to fight off anyone who threatens the blonde beauty.

Abby and Jake let them wander off, they don’t worry. Why would they? As the years pass, they come to trust the fierce look in the young guard-to-be.

-

Clarke laughs and is happy, she doesn’t expect the responsibilities. Doesn’t consider the heavy burdens of being heiress. It comes crashing down on her one morning, when Queen Abby sets her up to meet a young prince, and tells her he is hers to marry.

“Prince Finn is a very suitable husband for you, he’ll take over the throne and become king of the Kingdom of Arkadia.”

“I don’t understand,” Clarke croaks, her throat dry. “I am to be.. wed?”

Abby looks apologetic for a second. But she’s firm. Final.

“I don’t want to marry him, Lexa,” Clarke tells her, at night. They’re fifteen and young but already, Clarke feels far too old. She wants to feel young again, she wants to feel like she’s free again. “I don’t want to be his.”

“You won’t.” Lexa holds her hands, holds her body, sheds her tears.

When Clarke looks at her questioningly, she smiles softly and just says, “You’re your own first,” when Clarke returns her smile, she adds, “And you’re mine before you’re his. You’re my best friend,”

The words are supposed to be soothing, and comforting, but they’re like a stab through the heart, and still, they don’t understand why.

She cries in Lexa’s arms that night, she doesn’t understand the queasy feeling in her chest when she screams in misery.

Lexa holds her with a sorrow she can’t put into words. It’s silly, they both know. It was to be expected. Still, they don’t know how to explain why this idea is crushing their hearts, and they both won’t admit it.

-

Clarke meets Prince Finn for the first time in late July, the sun is warm and the light is bright. He doesn’t look half bad. He calls her Princess and whispers that she looks beautiful in the gleaming rays of sunshine. It makes her smile for a second only before she sees a brooding Lexa training with Indra in the distance. She still smiles, but Finn’s comment has nothing to do with that.

She should start to question herself but she wouldn’t know for what. Still, still, she doesn’t understand.

Then again, she doesn’t really try to.

“Finn is a nice man,” she tells a seventeen years old Lexa, “He’ll be a good King.”

The brunette is braiding her hair, doing them up. Clarke will be married this afternoon. She doesn’t explain the sinking feeling in her stomach. Not too sure she wants to.

“Will he make a good husband?” She tries to ignore the sorrow in her tone.

“Time will tell,”

“Will you love him more than me?” She doesn’t try this time. It’s pleading and hurting and everything she’s feeling inside.

Maybe she understands more than she says.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” it’s soft. It’s both reassuring and painful. It feels oddly familiar in Lexa’s ears. It feels like a promise for something she hasn’t asked for but yearns anyway.

She waits and waits for words to leave her mouth, but they never come. She tries to find the meaning. She tries to understand more.

She watches from a distance the union of Prince Finn and Princess Clarke.

Clarke looks surreal in her dress, majestic and mystical. She realizes with a stark feeling the sentiment of desire.

It blurs with the one of pain and jealousy. She learns this day all that is love and the real meaning behind her earlier words.

Her heart breaks at the realization that Clarke might have misunderstood it.

She doesn’t try and stop the hope though.  

-

Clarke learns over the years that love and marriage don’t come in the same package. She tries, tries hard to love King Finn. He’s good and generous, gentle. He cares for her, but it’s just not there. She lies with him and wishes she could go back to running through the fields in a light dress and a lean guard at her side.

She pretends like she doesn’t see the look of longing in Lexa’s eyes when they’re wandering together, going on long strides, standing in official meetings. She pretends like she doesn’t know Lexa can see it her eyes too.

Lexa’s presence feels like salvation, her gaze feels like the sin she needs redemption for.

Clarke understands it for the first time when she learns the news.

“I am with child,” she says, quiet and with tears in her eyes. If asked, she’ll say that they’re tears of joy. Of course, she’s happy. She loves the child already. But she finds herself hoping he’d have green eyes and prominent cheekbones. She finds herself hoping that her child will look more like Lexa and less like Finn.

That’s when she understands that she loves Lexa the way she’s supposed to love the king. When she sees the look of confusion and pain and wishes she could soothe it away.

“Clarke,” there’s a smile at the corner of Lexa’s mouth. It conveys everything but happiness. “I’m delighted with the news.”

“Lying is not your strong suit.”

Silence. Heavy and tangible, tension sharp. Breaths are heard, calm but deep, the need for air grand.

“Why would I be lying?”

“Do not ask questions you already have the answer to.”

Another silence. This one stretches, extends, lasts. It lasts while Lexa brushes her fingers against Clarke’s cheeks. Apologetic. It lasts while she turns on her heels and walks away, afraid of the truth.

It feels like two admissions of guilt neither are ready to do penance for.

The silence lasts days. The looks last months.

Clarke is eighteen, married to a man she doesn’t love and pregnant.

Lexa is eighteen, in love with her best friend and queen.

Is love the decisive factor, or is it timing?

-

Lexa is there when Finn isn’t. She helps her through morning sickness, brings her food for her cravings, holds her hand when she gives birth. She talks and prays and tells Clarke she’s doing great. That she’s amazing.

For a minute there, she almost believes the child is theirs, that when the baby boy expels his first scream, she’ll get to pick him up and cradle him.

She doesn’t.

King Finn arrives shortly and she leaves. She leaves head hung low, heart heavy and broken.

She waits at the door, like her duty dictates her to do, and wills herself not to hear the conversation in the room.

“It’s a boy,” Clarke’s tired voice rasps out.

“An heir,” A pause, then, “Did you pick a name for him?”

“Don’t you want to name him after you?”

“No, you choose my Queen,” Lexa knows there’s a smile on the man’s lips and her heart breaks even more knowing that he’s a nice man, that he’s a nice king and husband. Clarke should love him. She should. There’s an uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach when she realizes that Clarke probably doesn’t.

“Aden,” the queen mumbles, and Lexa can almost see her eyes closed, the tiredness too evident, “Let’s name him Aden.”

“Prince Aden, then.”

When he leaves the room, he stops before Lexa.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty,”

“Thank you, Lexa. You’ve been good, looking after her. Will you still? I have to go and inform the court, prepare for the celebration. We have an heir,”

“I will,”

He smiles warmly, and she doesn’t find the strength to hate him for being the one to hold Clarke at night.

She hates herself for holding countless other girls she knows are not blonde with blue eyes. She lies with women that aren’t Clarke and feels guilty despite the fact that she knows she shouldn’t.

When she goes back into the room, Clarke is fast asleep, so she sits next to the bed and watches her, sweaty and exhausted, deep in slumber. She holds her hand, her heart squeezing at the same time as Clarke’s hand in hers.

She falls asleep, too. Comforted by the blonde’s even breaths and peaceful presence. The soft cries of baby Aden being cleaned not far away.

In this frozen moment in time, she pretends her life is not the same. She pretends Clarke is not Queen, she pretends the church would allow them to be married. She pretends like she’s a fierce king protecting her sleeping queen. For a moment, she pretends that the world allows her love to be enough.

-

Years pass and Finn, content with having an heir, spends less and less time with Clarke. She can’t exactly say she minds. Well, she does. She doesn’t love him, it’s true, but she cares for him, he’s the father of her child, and she cares.

The upside is that she spends more time with Lexa. The brunette has been assigned to their personal security and that just works perfectly.

At first, he spends a night or two away. She doesn’t question it but she doesn’t fool herself thinking he’s just up doing business. She knows times are peaceful. She knows there are no pressing matters, so she doesn’t try and convince herself that he’s doing anything other than spending the night with other women.

So she just quietly spends her night alone waiting. It’s just a couple nights at first.

“Did the king leave you alone in your bed again last night?” Lexa asks her one day, while watching a two year old Aden run around in the corn field. It reminds her of so many things and she feels old despite her being barely twenty.

“He did.”

“How surprising.” She’s bitter and won’t try to hide it. If Clarke was in her bed, she’d never want to leave. She’s angry that she seeks the company of women to forget she can’t have Clarke’s, and Finn seeks it to avoid having Clarke’s. She fails to see the fairness in all of it. That’s when she begins to resent the king.

“Lexa... “

“He shouldn’t leave you alone,” she says, softer,  “I hate that you’re alone.”

“I’m not,” Clarke smiles, and they both understand.

After a minute of silence, Clarke continues.

“Won’t you marry someone too, eventually?”

“I won’t marry a man.”

“Why not?”

Lexa gives her a pointed look.

“You know I won’t lie with one.”

Clarke smiles again, if only because it gives her hope. Then she doesn’t smile anymore because it reminds her that Lexa is not waiting for her, she can’t, and she tries to ignore the jealousy at the knowledge that Lexa has company every night while she’s alone in her bed.

“Would you marry a girl if you could?” It’s tentative and shy.

Lexa thinks hard about it for a moment, because the answer is yes. Of course, she’d marry Clarke, over and over. She’d marry her in a hundred lifetimes. If only she knew. But she doesn’t, not yet.

So she says, “No,” because she knows she can’t marry Clarke in this one, and really, if she can’t marry her, she can’t marry anyone else.

“Why’s that?”

“My duty is to you.”

Clarke looks at her when she asks, “Is that all there is?”

Lexa returns the look purposefully when she answers, “No, of course not.”

In the loneliness of the moment, they allow themselves a moment of weakness, and their hands reach out to one another. They hold on for dear life, they hold on to each other like it’ll solve it all.

It doesn’t.

-

They don’t ever say they love each other. Another year passes and Aden grows and they just know. They don’t say it because it’d be too real. But they know and they accept it, and they say it in other ways. Maybe sometimes they pretend like they don’t.

The longing looks are still there but they hide them far less than before. If only for the fact that they don’t have to. Finn is always busy, sometimes he takes Aden, sometimes he doesn’t, but he always seems like he has some important things to do. Matters to take care of, strangers’ beds to occupy. Clarke’s bed is cold and empty, she doesn’t wish for Finn to warm it, and longs for a presence she knows she can’t have.

Lexa stops bedding so many girls. If only for the fact that they all remind her that none of them are Clarke and it’s pointless to try and pretend anymore.

-

One day, one fateful day, Clarke decides to be brave. She decides to be strong and allow her heart some relief. She aches for Lexa’s touch, she aches for her love, she aches for the freedom.

So she grants herself. She’s bold and courageous when she takes the brunette’s hand at night. She escorted her to her chambers, like always, ready to bid her goodnight, when Clarke had tugged her hand for her to follow in the dark, empty room.

Now, she stands in the room, alone with the guard, door locked, heavy truths and deep secrets running wild in the silence around them.

“Would you keep me company tonight?”

The looks are nervous, heated, not ready.

“What kind of company do you want me to be?”

The unsureness in her voice is undermined by lust. She knows what she’s asking. Clarke knows too. She has waited for this far too long; she has waited for this all her life.

So she doesn’t answer with words. It’s not necessary. Tonight, she’s tired of words. Tonight, she’s a woman of actions.

Lexa’s jaw drops in the same motion as Clarke’s dress. The soft fabric hitting the floor loudly, not as loud as Lexa’s heart. It’s wild and restless against her ribcage. It pounds, and pounds, and pounds, the sound is like music to Clarke’s ears. She can hear it; she can hear it in her chest too.

She stands there and waits for Lexa to decide. To make a move. To accept her, like she has accepted the truth in her heart.

But Lexa doesn’t move, she stands there, mouth opened, hands trembling. Breath short, disbelieving. Stunned.

She rakes her eyes over Clarke’s naked figure, the sight setting fire to her skin. She’s frozen.

And the blonde is not worried. She sees the lust, she sees the desire. She’s not self-conscious, because under Lexa’s gaze, she feels godly. She feels unreal and maybe she is. Maybe this moment only exists for the both of them, in this room.

So she waits, patiently, desired and desiring. She waits until finally, Lexa takes a step towards her, then another, and another.

Standing face to face, sharing the air they breathe, Clarke waits still. Their eyes close, their breaths mingle. Heads tilt, bodies lean against one another. Tension fills the room, the castle, the universe. Everything in life stands still in the moment where lips haven’t yet met lips.

Clarke grows impatient; she’s hungry for Lexa. But the brunette doesn’t relent; she puts both her hands on Clarke’s face to prevent her from leaning forward. She hovers her mouth over the blonde’s. She inhales Clarke’s scent, Clarke’s air, Clarke.

“Let me crave you” Lexa purrs into her, “Just for a moment,” she adds.

Clarke’s hands grip the brunette’s wrists, her nails leaving half-moon prints on pale skin. They trail a path on the length of forearms.

“Let me crave you,” it’s whispered, lust-filled. “One last time,”

Clarke trembles under her fingers, her brows are furrowed, her eyes closed. She waits again, and she’s tired of waiting, but she wills herself, only because she knows: this is the last time she won’t know the feeling of Lexa’s mouth on her.

They don’t know how long they stand there, unmoving, anticipating.

Their bodies are already touching, heat is radiating off of both of them.

“Lexa,” Clarke all but moans. It’s pleading, pleading, and demanding and desperate.

So Lexa indulges, and presses her lips oh so slowly to Clarke’s. The feeling is something they couldn’t describe. It feels like a rainy summer afternoon, hot and heavy. It’s not sweet, though it’s chaste at first. But it’s intense, and passionate. Slow, slow, so very slow, Clarke thinks she might die from relief and want.

They gasp, because it feels like coming home, it feels like breathing again, it feels like they’ve just been born again.

They part in silence, lock their gazes and Clarke undresses Lexa without a word. She doesn’t want to break the tension, she doesn’t want to break the moment. So she just takes Lexa’s clothes off one by one, until they’re both lying, naked. Lexa rests her forehead on Clarke’s, trailing her fingers lightly over the other woman’s stomach, ribs, chest.

“You feel familiar.” The guard whispers in her mouth, “You feel so new, yet so familiar,”

While she talks, her hand trails lower, slips between Clarke’s legs and touches her for the first time. For the first time, she’s glad for all the bodies she’s touched before, for she knows she’ll be able to give Clarke what she wants.

The blonde’s moan is the first reaction, sends shudders down both their bodies. It all feels relieving.

“I suppose we got as familiar as we could,” the queen says with a chuckle she didn’t know she could handle.

“Let me show you how familiar I can be.”

And from there, the only way Clarke can use her voice is through pants and moans and chants of Lexa’s name. The guard touches her, enters her, loves her a million different ways, and she might cry from how good it feels. She understands once again the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of safety, while it’s new and fresh and yet another discovery.

“I feel like I could discover you forever,” Clarke says after she catches her breath, “I feel like I could learn you over and over again.” She kisses her, breathes her, wants to worship her.

“Discover me, then,”

So she does, over and over, and they discover each other all night long.

The first light of the new day forces them to part and they kiss each other in the remaining darkness, full and passionate. The kisses are a promise, not only of love, but a promise that this is not the last time they will get to appreciate each other’s company.

-

It happens almost every night. Lexa joins Clarke after the sun has set, they love each other in the dark, and when light returns, Lexa departs. They only sleep after the sun has risen.

Finn doesn’t even hide his affairs anymore, although it’s a unique affair now. Clarke learns her name is Raven, and she’s far too beautiful for Clarke to hate her.

“Do you love her?” She asks the king one morning, the feeling of Lexa’s fingers inside her fresh and insistent, so she doesn’t feel jealous one bit. She doesn’t even seem to care.

“You’re my queen, you know I love you,” It feels genuine and he has the decency to look guilty, but she knows the creases between his brows.

“But you love her more than me,”

“Would you hold it against me?”

“No, we didn’t choose each other,”

They don't look at each other and part ways, for a second, Clarke thinks that she can have her affair with Lexa in peace.

She’s wrong.

-

Lexa’s favourite part of this whole affair is the kisses they sneak in the corners of the castle. It’s dangerous and reckless and could lead to unspeakable consequences, but she likes danger.

They’re known to stay careful, always try to be smart but their infatuation is strong, the desire powerful. They’re still young, it still feels new.

Clarke daydreams all day about the things Lexa can do to her, and Lexa stands in her guard’s attire all day, patiently waiting for Clarke to take it off of her.

One night, though, after months of sneaking around, being consumed by want, they’re exhausted and their kisses are lazy, their clothes aren’t shed.

“I missed you, today,”

“I’m here,” Lexa answers in the crook of Clarke’s neck.

She rolls to put the blonde on top of her, but they’re weak and the motion stops midway, resulting in them lying side by side, faces close, breaths mixing.

“I want you,” Clarke says, eyes closed and drifting off.

“I want you, too,”

They smile through the tiredness because they both need each other to know. Clarke blames her next words on the exhaustion.

“If I say I love you, will you say you love me too?”

There’s a pause where Clarke thinks that the other woman is asleep. She’s almost gone too when she hears, “Speak and you shall see,”

“I love you,”

Lexa is glad that the blonde’s eyes are closed and hers too, so she allows a smile, follows by a kiss. It’s slow and lazy, mouths glide against each other.

“I love you, too,”

They fall asleep after that, holding each other close, clutching each other’s clothes.

The words feel grand and despite the lightness of the moment, it feels like both the curse and the blessing they don’t know they’re caught in.

They feel it in their bones, that this is more than what it is, but they can’t explain the feeling of completeness. The ineffable feeling of fulfilment. They just accept it, and vow to keep the other as close as they can.

The night is young and sleep is fresh, so they make the most of it and they don’t forget to wake up in the middle of it to show each other just how deep the love runs.

-

It lasts for years, Aden is 8 and starting to train to be a warrior. Lexa trains him when they spend the afternoons together with Clarke.

Those are Clarke’s favourite moments, she almost feels like they can be a family.

Some nights, Finn stays with her. She wills herself not to feel disappointed. She thinks he’s worried about her, and guilty that he’s leaving her to herself. She wants to tell him that she’s not alone, she wants to say that she too, loves someone else and they can carry on like this until the very end.

She’s not sure of his reaction though. She’s not sure he’d accept it like she has accepted it. He’s the king, and Lexa’s a woman. Everything about the situation is wrong and unfair and she fears that he wouldn’t understand.

“You’re still my Queen,” he whispers against her skin when he’s authoritative, aggressive and possessive, all those things that make her believe that he would not share her despite her having to share him.

“You’re still mine,” It’s selfish. Clarke wants to say that she’s her own, that she’s Lexa’s but she doesn’t.

Lexa is quick to right his wrong though, and loves a fragile Clarke tenderly each following night he visits her.

-

One day, Clarke is 28, almost happy, when Raven approaches her, careful.

“I’m sorry,”

“Whatever for?”

She examines the girl carefully. She’s beautiful, she looks fierce. She holds herself straight, holds the queen’s gaze.

“You know what for,” to the girl’s credit, she doesn’t falter when she speaks. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I love him.”

“Why are you talking to me about the king?”

“I don’t want to be anybody’s mistress.” It’s defiant, still careful. Clarke really doesn’t how to take it. What it means.

“But you are.”

The girl purses her lips, doesn’t answer.

“You can have him,”

“As long as you’re here, he can’t be mine.” It’s provocative, despite the girl dropping her eyes to the ground. “Not like I want him.”

Clarke considers the words carefully before answering. She still can’t decipher the message behind the words. What started as an apology ended up sounding like a threat. How, how did it turn into this?

“It’s not like I can go anywhere, now, can I?”

She starts to leave and doesn’t miss the “maybe you can,” muttered to her back, but she doesn’t comment. She’s sure it’s just jealousy talking, when really, she doesn’t understand why the girl would feel jealous in the first place.

Clarke’s too naïve to know. She’s too naïve to suspect.

-

The Queen tries not to let Raven’s words affect her but they do. Maybe you can. Can she? This is her kingdom, she grew up here, this is her parent’s legacy. Can she just abandon it? Leave it in the hands of a man she’s beginning to despise?

She thinks and thinks and thinks.

She’s torn, because staying would mean being faithful to her people, and leaving would be a chance at a real life with Lexa. A life of freedom.

Then again, there’s Aden. Would she take him? The king wouldn’t allow it. He’d search the entire lands for him. But she just couldn’t abandon him.

She talks about it with Lexa one night, a few days later, when the questioning cannot be contained in her head anymore.

“What would you say about..” She pauses, because she doesn’t know how to ask. “What would you say about running away?”

“You want me to leave?”

Clarke doesn’t miss the look of hurt in the brunette’s eyes.

“Yes,” she smiles, “but you don’t get it. I want to go with you.”

“What do you mean? You want to run away together?”

“Nights with you are not enough, I want all of it, I want days, I don’t want the burden of the crown anymore. I don’t want Finn coming in my chambers anymore, asserting what little power he has left over me.”

Lexa frowns, she gets it. She wants more too. She wants it all with Clarke. But she can’t delude herself into thinking that it’s feasible.

“I want you, I just want you,”

“What about Aden?” The brunette starts, her armour suddenly heavy, as heavy as her heart.

“We’ll take him.” Clarke says, she makes up her mind right there, right then. She wants to go, the idea far too enticing. She feels like this is their chance, like she’d miss something if she doesn’t take it.

“We can’t, and you know that.”

“Please,” Clarke continues. She doesn’t notice the tears spilling onto her cheeks but they’re here and Lexa sees them. Her heart breaks. It breaks, heavy still.

They’re in the cornfield, Aden is running, and it feels like they’d come full circle. Those cornfields, those damn cornfields.

“Please, just come with me. I can’t live with only half of you.”

“I won’t run the risk. I won’t tempt fate.” The word in her mouth feels too much like a death sentence. She takes a step towards Clarke, pressing her hands to her face. It’s dangerous, she shouldn’t do this but right now, she can’t think past the enormity of what Clarke is asking.

“I’ll gladly accept whatever I can get, if it means we can live like this another ten years. What if we get caught? What if he finds us? What if we can’t fend for ourselves?”

“What if we can make it?”

Without thinking, Lexa kisses Clarke. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t think someone might be watching. She doesn’t think they’re not safe in this place. This is their place. Their safe place. Tonight, it’s not so safe anymore.

“The chances are too slim to risk what we have. Let’s just accept that this is us. Let’s just accept that this is what we have. Let’s enjoy it. Every night, I get to come to your room, I get to kiss you, I get to touch you, I get to love you. It’s in the darkness, and I wish I could love you for all to see, but it’s already more than I could have ever hoped for. I won’t jeopardize it. I won’t ask for more. Let’s not be greedy, love.”

Lexa kisses her again before stepping away, away from the inviting warmth, from temptation.

“But I love you.”

“And I love you too,” There’s a tear in Lexa’s eyes when she adds, “Let’s pretend it’s enough,”

Clarke nods but doesn’t stop the tears. There’s not enough hope and too much despair in the words.

Maybe love isn’t the decisive factor after all.

Even in ignorance they feel doomed.

-

Looking back, Lexa thinks they should’ve run away.

The alternative would’ve been better. Because she doesn’t get another night with Clarke. She doesn’t get one, and she doesn’t get to say goodbye, to kiss her one last time before they take her, lock her up in a dark cell where she can’t even see her own shadow.

She understands perfectly where it all went wrong and for the first time, she’s tired of understanding.

She’s tired of understanding the things of life and knowing that this is her fault that she’s here.

So it’s over.

Yes, she thinks. They should’ve run away.

-

Clarke doesn’t realize right away.

All she sees is Raven in the throne room, avoiding her gaze. She doesn’t see Finn but she hears him. He’s yelling and yelling until he sees her.

Then he’s calm and scary and threatening.

“You,” he snarls, anger dripping from his voice. “You thought you could just..”

She’s tired, and knows she’s done for. There’s no point in trying to deny it.

“Obviously you thought you could too,”

“You are my Queen.”

“No I’m not,” she counters and everything in her is so done with everything. She just wants it to be over with. Let them lock her up.

“Yes you are,” his voice raises, “And your precious guard will be dead by morning.”

She falls to her knees and wonders why she didn’t fight any harder to get Lexa to go. Why she brought up the subject to begin with.

“Do not delude yourself into thinking it makes me anymore yours.”

His face is red, veins popping up. Raven looks guilty, she looks caught. She looks sorry. Well, sorry won’t save her now.

“Is that so?” Clarke doesn’t let her gaze waver when she looks in his eyes with defiance. “In that case, if you can’t be mine, you can’t be anybody’s.”

“What do you mean?"

“If you’re so intent on being with her, you can be with her until death.”

She doesn’t have the strength to answer. Maybe this is a better alternative. But she’s surprised he’d do that, she’s surprised. Raven, too, seems surprised. Like she didn’t expect this, like her weak attempt at stealing her throne wouldn’t mean it would cost two people’s lives.

She thinks of Aden, wonders if Finn will let her say goodbye.

He doesn’t.

-

Clarke is thrown in a cell but the duration of her stay is so short she doesn’t even realize it. She thinks of Lexa, of her stupidity. She thinks she wants to hug Aden one last time. She thinks about how she won’t ever watch him grow, be a king, be a man. She hopes he will remember her kindness, and not his father’s cruelty. When the time comes, she hopes he’ll be a good king.

The sun is barely rising when she climbs the steps to the guillotine.

She has a hood on her face and doesn’t see Lexa until the very last moment, when they lift it to show her face to the crowd. She’s facing her. Their eyes find each others immediately, and something happens.

Fate. They tempted it. Didn’t they?

The fact of the matter is that cruelty doesn’t stop at Finn’s decisions.

Their eyes meet and memories flow. They flow in their minds, and Clarke can barely hear Lexa’s scream of despair.

Because she hears, she hears a prayer, whispered to her centuries ago, she hears Lexa’s cry for her to live, she hears her laugh, she hears Indulge me, and May we meet again and Goodnight, Soldier.

She wants to laugh, to cry, to scream, to breathe again. How? How? Their eyes never unlock, their gazes never untouch.

“Not again,” she hears Lexa say, and she sounds young, younger than she is. She sounds weak and different.

“Death is not the end,” She shouts, and people will always think it’s a vague attempt at making history, but they both know, when their eyes are still bound, they both know that it’s only meant for their story.

Clarke is not sure what is the purpose of this curse, what is the meaning of this blessing. That’s three times now she had the chance to love Lexa. Three times something went wrong. Is it her fault, this time around? Was it ever anyone’s fault? She doesn’t know.

As her body is lowered, speeches are shouted, she thinks about all the times she got to touch Lexa’s body.

She looks at her for a second more. She doesn’t cry like Lexa does. She just accepts it, once more. Lexa is unbelieving. Untrusting. She knows. She knows. Clarke hates the fact that she was always the first to go.

I love you, she mouths, making sure Lexa sees it. She has to let her know one last time before they go. She has to let her know that this is a truth that did and will transcend ages.

This time she’s sure, they’ll meet again. She closes her eyes, serene and unwilling to witness when they take her lover’s life. They take Clarke’s seconds before though, so she can hear the torture in her lover’s voice. Her heart has the time to break one last time.

Lexa doesn’t close her eyes, and despises herself forever for the image in her head.

-

Maybe, the artistry resides in the fact that not only they’re bound to meet for eternity, but also, choose one another when the choice is given. Maybe the beauty is in the taken opportunity.