In love may you find me.

When you return to the Polis tower, you avoid your room. You can feel the heaviness of Clarke's precense and absence. You don't know which one is heavier, which is the most painful. The fact that she's not here, or the fact that you can still feel her everywhere. You can hear her walking in the corridors. See her sketching on the armchair of your bedroom. You can feel her bluest eyes against your skin, her hands dancing around you like ghosts that will haunt you forever. You accept it, all of it. Because it means ultimately that you got to know what it felt like. Those are not wishes, or fantasies. Those are memories. You didn't create this, you remember it. And this is the best kind of torture.

But it is torture all the same, and you already know that you won't be going to sleep tonight. It's already night when you settle for going on your balcony. It's quiet and peaceful, and you can let your mind wander. Think about what today meant, what will happen, with the blockade. You worry for Clarke. How could you not ? In the midst of a war, not even safe from her own people. It kills you that you can't protect her. That you can't make her safe. But you have responsibilities, you carry an infinite burden that is impossible to escape. That is greater than you, your love or your life.

It reminds you of the time you had to abandon Clarke at Mount Weather. When you walked away, never able to erase the tears, afraid you might never see her again. That might have been the hardest decision you had to make. But you did it anyway. Why ? You had tried so hard to stay away from love. Love was weakness, or so you've been told. In this moment it was. But Clarke.. Clarke is more than that. She inspires you to do greater good. To be better. To be more. Still with that same understanding of what it means to be a leader.

Hours pass, and you ocupy your mind the best you can. You go change, avoiding to look at the unmade bed. Put on your forehead decoration, braid your hairs. Before you know it, sun's rising along with your worries. Dawn. The blockade will be effective soon. Coincidence wants that the messenger arrives right when the thought crosses your mind. But something's not right. He shouldn't be here this early. That ride back takes hours.

“Messenger, must I ask what you are doing back this early ? Is something troubling the blockade ?”

“No Heda, I did not stay that long. Wanheda and Octavia kom Skaikru caught up, and as they passed us she asked me to return at the earliest to Polis.”

Your heart skip a beat. Your brain makes up a hundred scenarios. None of them have happy endings.

“Why would Wanheda send you back ?” You ask as calmly as you can, forcing composure on your face, and the tremble out of your voice.

“I come bearing something from her, Heda. Someone will be arriving later in the day to tell us about the blockade.”

Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out a folded piece of paper, tied with a piece of thread. Your heart is threatening to leave your chest, breaking your ribcage to escape its prison. You take the makeshift envelope, and it feels heavy in your hands. Heavy with things you want to know, things unsaid, heavy with a piece of Clarke. There are several pieces of paper in there. You want to immediately open them and know what is the content. You don't. You compose yourself. Patience.

“Thank you. You may rest but I might call you upon to return to her. Stay prepared.”

“Yes, Heda.”

You turn to sit on your throne, the letter still in your hand. Titus is next to you, and when you look into his eyes, you see disapproval. Annoyance, even.

“Heda, Clarke going back was the right decision, but this relationship is still dangerous, if your mind is unfocused.”

Raising her hand, you cut his rant short. You know he will not stop speaking otherwise. He never stops lately and your patience is running short.

“I know what you think, Titus. No need to remind me yet again.”

“Heda, you don't understand-”

“I perfectly understand what the stakes are, Titus. However, it is my decision to make and I will not have you lecturing me anymore on this situation. Am I making myself clear?”

You stay calm. You don't want to raise your voice like yesterday. But your tone is threatening. Dangerous. If he's smart he'll understand that he has reached your limit. At least for now. You know he won't stop but it might give you a bit more time.

“Yes, Heda.” His head is still high but his eyes are down, not daring to look at you. This fight is not over.

“Very well then. I will retreat to my quarters and I am not to be disturbed, unless absolutely necessary. We will wait news from the blockade to consider our next step to take is this matter. Until then, I am to be left alone.”

“Yes, Heda.” He repeats. Obedient, but holding back.

You walk to your room your head held hight, posture in place. Once in there, you sit on the couch, the same one you fell asleep in, under the safety of Clarke's company. The paper burns your fingers. Its weight feels like a hundred rocks. You open it, unfold the first piece of paper. It's a drawing. It's not the one she made of you but you recognize it anyway. She made it some nights ago, after Emerson was escorted far away from your land. It's one of Arkadia. You can see the structure of the Ark, as she called it, the forest surrounding it. It's beautiful, and rough, and everything that reminds you of her. You open the other one. Words seem to spill out of it, and invade you. They fall upon your eyes and create swarms of emotions.

She wrote you. You feel like she's here. Those words are Clarke by extension, and you touch the paper because you know that her hands must have brushed it. You're thankful that you still have a few hours before things are busy again, with news of the blockade. You're thankful you get to read this peacefully, with the memory of her sitting next to you. You prepare yourself. One last breath before eyes fall onto ink and words invade soul.

Lexa,

Only hours passed. It still seems far too long. I don't allow my mind to wander to far off for it always seems to bring me back to you. I can't afford to be unfocused. You should know.

We took a short break for the horses to rest and for us to eat. I will only use this time on you though. To let you know that I am still here. To let you have a piece of me. One more to add to the ones I already gave you. You must rely on these for now. They're all I can give before you can have all of me. And you will, that is a certainty you must not doubt. Like I do not doubt in return that you will belong to me eventually. How long will we have to wait ? I don't know. Weeks, months, years ? Who cares, because you own all that I am. It is yours to take when this is all over. And I will make sure that it is sooner rather than later.

It is painful to bear the memories of our last moments together, the memories of your body, your voice pleading. But I don't regret them, it was necessary. How could I have gone without telling you ? How could I let you go by another second without letting you know that you hold my bleeding heart, that it is your hands that keeps it from bleeding out ? That you are the peace inside my mind, the strength in my shoulders, the one that helps me carry the weight of the world. How could you not know, that you are the oxygen inside my blood, taking residence, nestling its way throught my body and making it function. You are what I am, and I am what you are.

Remember this today, when you wait for news from me. Remember this at night when you go lie down where we have been. Remember this when you sleep, when you can pretend that I am here, and that war is just a vague, distant memory. Remember this when you struggle, when you can't breathe because the emptiness takes over. Remember this in the darkest of nights, the brightest of days. I carry you everywhere, and this knowledge alone will keep me alive for you. Just like part of me stayed behind, hidden behind your highest walls. Behind them I am the willing prisonner that will never try and espace the safety of your heart.

From now on I will forever live in the moment where you loved me, without restraints or obligations.

I'll come back to you.

Yours forever,

Clarke.

You read it. And then you read it again. You keep reading it, and an hour later, you're still reading it over and over again. Unshed tears are falling. You allow them in the confidence of loneliness. Are they happy ? Are they sad ? You can't say for sure. Your heart is so heavy you think you might never be able to stand again, the weight too overwhelming. But the words make you float, and fly. You laugh through your tears. It's nothing more than a choked sound, and it breaks the silence that shortly returns, defeaning. She didn't tell you she loved you. But who needs three words when you can have hundreds ?

They scream at you, the love pours out and you finally feel like Mount Weather is far behind. Never to be forgotten but to become another headstone in the graveyard of your mistakes. One to remind you, of heartbreak that is almost healed, and regrets that can be replaced.

You wonder for long moments if you should write back. Is it reasonnable ? Is it foolish ? Was it meant to be responded to ? Was it meant for closure ? But you almost laught at that. When did you and Clarke ever seeked closure ? There will never be closure. And you don't want to. You want the future wide-open. Where you can imagine any scenario where the two of you can grow together, happy and war-free. You find a piece of paper and some pen. You're grateful that you're the Commander and it allowed you to have the education necessary to write. Your passion for books and ancient litterature helps too.

However, you don't how to start. Many thoughts claw their ways into your mind and it's all too much. You want to tell her about the gaping hole she left behind her. About the lightness her letter brought. You want to tell her past stories of wars and broken hearts. Lives that were stolen to the innocent, and how many scars of yours still bleed for those you've lost. You want to tell her of early trainings, long hikes, the smell of her hair, the light in her smile. You don't.

Clarke,

Relief is not strong enough of a word to describe the feeling your letter gave me. I didn't know I needed it but once more you knew before I did. I thank you for that.

I hope that you are safe. I hope that you haven't armed yourself in any way, and Indra will know to look after you. Even if I know that you are more than capable to look after yourself. One cannot worry enough about your safety. You need to tread carefully and not jump into things. Make plans, infiltrate slowly. Buy yourself time, and don't make your presence known right away. Take back control with strategy and not force. I know you know these things. But I will feel guilty and unuseful if I don't say them.

You were right, Clarke, I carry the emptiness around since you left, and sleep has yet to find me. Maybe I don't want to be found for the awakening would be much too painful. How can I spend hours thinking that you are here, that I have you, in my bed and in my arms, only to open my eyes and find loneliness greeting me ? So I bear the curse of only having the memory of you.

And what a memory. It's warm and sweet at times, like the soft of the furs on a cold winter night. It's raging and powerful, at others, burning like a wildfire. Alive. Graceful. Beautiful, and strong.

I yearn to touch you again and worship every part of your soul. I yearn for you to finally be happy and rested. I yearn for your freedom and your forgiveness, that I achieved yet will forever seek. I tried to make myself worthy of your love and in times like these I feel like I am. There is no feelings like the one of relief that graced me when your lips finally touched mine. Impossibility is a kiss away from reality.

However sharp the edges, and the lighting dark, I will wait near the cliff of your bleeding heart.

May we meet again, love.

Yours eternally,

Leksa.

You don't try to proof read it, because if you do, you know you will just write another one. You fold it carefully and neatly, placing each corner in the center, and seal it with some candlewax. You're hesitant. But it's done now and Clarke reached out to you, so you must do the same. You go out of your room, ready to face whatever may come your way. Titus is here, hovering, and you don't like it. It makes you feel like you can't breathe. But then again, it's in the job description, you suppose. You know that tonight, you'll be able to slip into bed, somewhat serene because Clarke's letter will be waiting underneath the pillow and you'll get to read it again.

“ Titus, go find the messenger and bring him to the meeting room, please.”

The nod is the only indicator that he heard, before he goes away. Good, you're not sure you want to hear the sound of his voice right now. When you're on your throne you're still concerned but not as much. You feel confident that Clarke will make it. You have faith. When Titus returns with the messenger, you summon him to stand close to you.

“Messenger, return to the blockade immediately, remind the army to be pacific until absolutely necessary and wait for my order.”

You know that it is absolutely futile to send a messenger since another one is coming back, but you must keep up appearances. You slip the letter into your hand and extend it for him to grab it. Confusion is written across is face before he spots the letter. He grabs it, slipping his fingers around the piece of paper.

“Get this to Wanheda, right away. You are not to tell anyone that you are there to deliver this. If someone were to ask, you went seeking informations on the blockade. You will be discrete, and will return when Wanheda tells you to. Disobey this and you will pay with your life. Be loyal and you will be rewarded. Is it clear ?”

Your voice is not threatening in any way. It's calm, and low, you don't want anyone to hear this, not even Titus. Especially not Titus. He nods slightly his head. No further words are necessary. The letter tucked in his sleeve, he turns around and leaves. You see Titus watching you. He knows. But you can't bring yourself to care.

The second messenger won't be back for another four hours. You gather the nightbloods then. Training can't do them any harm and you could use the distraction, or the focus. Distraction from Clarke. Focus on the possible upcoming war. You join them at the clearing.

Aden is here. He is holding your gaze fiercely when you arrive, almost challenging you. You're amazed, and he reminds you of your younger self. The thought brings back painful memories, and happy ones. You think of a carefree life turned into one of challenges and responsibilities. You think of young love, blossoming. Discovery, of attraction, of danger. You think of how your learned that you were forbidden of hapiness. How you were denied your only source of joy. You think about Costia watching you train. Costia tending your wounds at night, sneaking through the window. Costia kissing away the pain, and kissing other things.

It all leads to the excrutiating memory of Costia's head being presented to you, one morning, unexpected. Unforeseen. Unavenged. Well, that last one was rectified. You would be lying if you didn't hope that the spear hadn't Costia's name engraved in its core. Jus drein jus daun, you said. Were you avenging the crimes of Mount Weather, or were you avenging the loss of your first love? If you were being honest, you'd say both. And when Queen Nia, blood spilling from her mouth, eyes empty, rendered her last breath, you felt your chest open, lighten. It felt like years of inner war finally ended. And in a way, maybe, that was you admitting that love wasn't weakness. You brought peace and justice to Costia's memory, and it felt good.

“Aden, you will pair up with me. Every one else, choose an opponent and grab a weapon of your choice.”

Quietly, everyone follows your order, and quickly enough, the training begins. You give short orders and guide them this time. There are no violent fight, for now. You teach them about the importance of patience, about the necessity of accuracy, about the need of speed, and strength. But it must not come first. First, you analyze, first you think. Knowing your opponent is as important as knowing yourself, you tell them. Then, two by two, they challenge each others, and you watch. Give orders, advices. Show them moves.

It feels good. They listen, they are hungry for knowledge, for power. You can't bear to tell them that all of this comes with unspeakable burden. But maybe, maybe Clarke's right. Maybe your legacy will be peace, and when the time comes for one of them to be commander, there will be no war to plan, no allies to betray. No armies to kill, no innocents to murder, no civilizations to slaughter. Maybe you will make this land a better place.

But for now, times are uncertain and they must be prepared, so you keep on teaching them to survive. And maybe someday, you will teach them to be merciful, and peaceful. You can't wait for that day to come.

“Heda” , you hear Titus call, turning around. “The second messenger from the blockade is here.”

You say nothing. You nod to him once, nod the the nightbloods with a small smile, and make your way back to the tower, while they continue to train by themselves.

Once in the meeting room, you take your place on your uncomfortable throne. It doesn't feel right without Clarke standing on its right.

“Messenger, have you come with informations regarding the blockade ?”

“Yes Heda, the blockade is in place and effective. Wanheda made camp with our army and is staying hidden. Octavia kom Skaikru has made her way in Arkadia and will, as soon as she can, bring a radio to Indra and Wanheda to keep them informed of what is going on inside the walls. She said she could get in without being noticed and will try to reach the one they call Marcus Kane.”

“Has the Skaikru shown any sign of rebellion against the blockade ?”

“No. But Wanheda said they might choose to purposefully stay calm to plan an attack on our army in the following days. Indra and Octavia agreed.”

You only nod. Your mind is reeling. You fiercely hope that Arkadia won't attack, or at least that Clarke and Octavia will succeed in taking down Chancellor Pike before that. It all comes down to their ability to take him down. If they attack, she will be forced to declare a war.

“Should I get back to give them specific orders Heda ?”

“You will go back, and wait for them to give you the informations on their plans. Tell them that I want to be informed of every move they plan to make. Every decisions, as far as possible. We are not to act upon the threat of an attack. Let's just wait and see if they can succeed.”

He nods. But doesn't move. You frown. Why doesn't he go back ? He's got a look on his face that tells you that this is not finished. He has something more to say. Away from unwelcomed ears.

You turn to Titus, because you know that the unwelcomed ears belong to him.

“I will be in my quarters, Titus. Get some food and water ready for his trip back and he will meet you at the doors of Polis shortly.”

He nods and leave, not without a look of discontent. You get up without a word and the messenger follows you.

“What name do you go by?” You ask him in the corridor that leads to your room.

“Izel, Heda.”

“Izel, is there something more you wish to tell me?” You ask him once you close the door of your bedroom.

When he reach inside his coat, you feel a familiar tug at your heart. You refuse to let yourself hope for more of Clarke. But you can't help it, it is there. She taught you that. To hope. To be hopeful, because when you are, good things tend to happen. And without fail, familiar paper make its appearance. You don't reach for it like your first instinct tells you to. You won't appear desperate. You will stay put, unfazed.

“Wanheda gave this to me. She ordered me to give it in confidence.”

There is an unfamiliar gentleness in his eyes. You want to hide there for eternity. It's comforting.

“You are not to say a word of this to anybody, you understand?”

“I wouldn't dare, Heda.”

“Right, then.” You take the letter from his extended hand. It's lighter than the other. You try not to be disappointed by that knowledge. That fact alone that the letter beneath your pillow will get a companion is astounding.

“Shall I wait for you to write back, Heda?”

“Did she ask you to?”

“Not spefically, but she looked.. hopeful. If I may.”

“You may. And you shall. Give me a moment.”

He nods and stand at the door. You go sit like you did earlier today. Your heart is thumping and you feel something you haven't felt in a long time. You feel excited. And loved. When you open the paper, you notice two things. The writing is messy, and you know she hurriedly wrote this. And the letter is shorter. But it is there nonetheless.

Lexa,

I shouldn't be writing to you again but I can't help it. I've got a few minutes alone in my tent before I have to meet Indra, and start planning. Octavia is gone to Arkadia, she'll try to bring back the radio by tonight, which I think is when you will receive this. I think we might have came up with a plan but we need to be able to speak with someone from the inside to know if we can make it happen. Octavia is trying to get a hold of Kane, or my mother. I'll keep you informed.

I wish you would be here. I miss you.

There I said it. I miss everything you are and I will miss you until I can feel you in my arms again. I will miss your body, I will miss your smell, the delicate hair at the back of your neck. I will miss your hands, or your mouth on me.

Think of me tonight, love, only think of me. If I could, I would only think of you. But duty calls and I must go. But you're here in my mind.

Yours forever,

Clarke.

You don't have time to read it again. You grab a piece of paper, hurriedly, the pen still of the small table near the table. You quickly but carefully write a response. It is longer than Clarke's but she deserve every words you can give her. You repeat the motion you did earlier. Fold, seal. You write Clarke's name on the front this time.

Once it's done, you go back to Izel. He tucks it in coat.

You extend you arm to him. The look of reverence he gives you warms your heart. He grabs your arm, firm but gentle.

“You are to report back to me whatever you can on Wanheda's condition. The state she seems in, the conditions she lives in. If she seems down, if she seems injured, if she as much as smiles I want to know. If you see anyone trying to harm her, have Indra restrain them. Tell her that she keeps an eye on Wanheda. She is not to be left alone, unless to rest. Even then, warriors must guard her tent. And she must not know about this. Understood?”

He nods firmly, confident. Determined. You feel like you can trust him with more than just a piece of paper.

“You are good Izel. Be safe, and come back here straight to me when Wanheda or Indra tells you to. Now go.”

He smiles, and leaves without another word.

You are exhausted. Spent. Sun is setting, and you haven't eaten at all today. You take off your coat, and retrieve the other letter from your bed. You hide them in your favorite book, on the shelf. You'll read them again before sleeping. Right now, it is with heavy legs that you carry yourself to have supper. Your body is tired but your mind is restless and it still spins with the memory of Clarke's words, and your body tingles in all the right places. Your heart throbs with unyielding love. You will wait patiently for the morning, with the unashamed hope that it will bring yet another piece of paper from the fiery blonde that stole your heart four months ago.