19. 19 full moons since she had someone to pick flowers for. 19 full moons since she felt fingertips on her back. Since someone wrapped their fingers in hers, or kissed the scar on her shoulder. 19 full moons since the sun stopped coming up. Like day came and did its job, too bright for the commander’s tired eyes, but passed before any sun she knew could warm her.
19 moons ago, when they took her love and returned her not whole, the only thing that stood between Lexa and the fire was Anya’s steady voice and Gustus’s grip on her small wrists. She writhed and trashed against his chest, so hard he was sure that she would break. In fact, she did. The bruises from Gustus’s hands healed, her lungs still breathed, and her heart still beat, but she was in pieces- scattered across the nation she was still required to rule. There would be no time to put them back together. There would be no time to heal.
A traditional death ceremony was called on for Costia’s body. A crown of white flowers was placed on her bloodied head, positioned back on the rest of her, as if she hadn’t died in the most inhumane of ways. As if she wasn’t the product of some bad blood originated before either her or Lexa had even been born. Her face was covered, and Lexa felt her blood turn to something hotter than she could bear. Costia wouldn’t want her face covered. She hated not being able to see the sky. Not being able to wallow in how big it was, how small she was. Not being able to ask whoever was around what they thought might be out there. Costia would have hated her face being covered. But Lexa swallowed the anger that balled up in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut hard, and opening them before anyone could see. This was the first of many times she would have to harden against the anger she felt rising in her, that she would have to be a commander, instead of the angry little girl every part of her body begged her to be. This time, like so many to come, she would have to hold her tired bones together, and give the nod she always did- the one quick nod that Gustus understood, and she was thankful he did, because she couldn’t manage much more. The nod that gave Gustus the go ahead, to set fire to the girl she loves. To burn out her sun.
Costia went up in smoke slower than she should have. At least it felt that way. It was as if the wind was taunting Lexa, by not making it end quickly. It let the smoke hang in the air for her to wish she could pull back to her, to breathe it in and be with Costia just one last time. Look at your love leave you once more. The smoke danced up to the sky, greying the blue as far as Lexa could see, and then disappearing all at once, not quite as blue as it seemed before.