archenemy | clexa

fifty

Titus is delighted to hear Lexa almost sacrificed herself for a girl.

He's equally delighted to hear that said girl will move in with Lexa.

He's effervescent when he finds out the girl is the supposed goddess that had a reign of terror over Trikru for how long, exactly?

He almost can't contain his joy to hear they will give up territory for Arkadia and make a 13th clan, all because Lexa fell in love, which of course he's a huge fan of.

Raven taught Lexa how to properly use sarcasm on their way back to Polis. Are you noticing it yet? She's been practicing.

In reality, she couldn't care less about a red-faced man going crazy about Clarke. She's way too busy going crazy about Clarke herself.

By the time they've settled in the city and Clarke's injuries have healed, it's spring and Lexa has seen Clarke as her enemy, has seen her in battle and bed, has seen her sad and angry, worried and scared. Lexa has seen all shades of Clarke in war.

Lexa realizes very soon that Clarke was never meant for war despite how good she is at it.

Clarke was never meant for fighting despite her skills, never meant for battle planning despite her intelligence, never meant for pain despite her resilience, never meant for being a war hero despite her leadership and popularity.

Lexa fell in love with Clarke during war. She fell in love with all the softness, all the love, all the strength. But really, she has never met Clarke in her right place until they reach Polis.

It's after one of many meetings about Arkadia that Lexa realizes it for the first time. Up until then, nothing much changed for her besides the usual.

Every time she comes home from longer periods of war or external politics, her chambers look different than she remembered them and her bedsheets no longer smell the same, even though nothing actually changed. Every time she comes home, it feels less like home. Every time she comes home, she wonders where that really is, especially when she's coming back from war.

That's the terrible thing about it.

Civilians will say it's the loss of loved-ones, nations will claim it's the loss of territory, politicians will pretend it's the loss of faceless soldiers they never knew.

The terrible thing about war isn't that people die, though. The terrible thing is that people die and it becomes normal, it becomes accepted, it becomes expected.

People die, and instead of finding a body, horrified by its state, you throw it on the pile like you did with all the others.

People die, and the smell of it replaces the smell of lavender Lexa's bedsheets carry and that becomes her home instead.

People die, and the sight of it replaces the view upon Polis from her balcony and that becomes her home instead.

People die, and killing them replaces her usual routine and that becomes her home instead.

War isn't a nightmare. It would be nice if it were, but in reality, war is the thing you hope to escape from in your nightmares.

Most don't want to face it, but war is a home. The soldiers you meet are funny and brave and unlike most others, they understand. They become family, until they die or return home and you're all just left with the pieces of what once was home.

You wake up each morning getting ready to kill and it becomes strange to wake up each morning getting ready for a cup of tea.

You become used to your armor, to the weight of your weapon in your hand and using it becomes an automatic motion the same way writing a word for the umpteenth time becomes automatic for the author or playing a sequence of keys becomes automatic for the pianist. Like a child learning to speak, it seems so very hard at first, but the truth is, it becomes practiced until you no longer need to think to do it.