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Lexa taking a bullet from for Clarke || hundredismsLexa is afraid to die. Her whole life she has seen men and women die; as a punishment, in battle, or from sickness. It was rare to see an elder. Everything Lexa learned seemed to revolve around embracing death and it frightens her. As a child she was afraid of the unknown, like darkness, the things she could not see keeping her awake when she begged for sleep. The only option was to become brave which she learned through scars on her side. Clarke did not leave her behind in the gorilla’s cage and when Lexa is faced with a similar circumstance, Lexa saves herself and her people. The excuse of responsibility is a shroud over the guilt she tampers with mantras she’s heard for a lifetime. Lexa is not surprised to find Clarke waiting, gun in hand, in her tent. An army of blood drained warriors moves slowly and when Clarke was on a mission, she remained focused to a fault. She counteracts her rising anxiety with measured breathing; firearms were the enemy’s weapon. Had her decision reduced the two of them to enemies once more?“Clarke,” Lexa moves to take a step forward and is met with a click from Clarke’s weapon. Don’t move. Words of advice ignored by thecommander. At this point in her life, Lexa knows to overcome death is to face it head on. She reaches out to Clarke, her hand pushing on the blonde’s arm to lower her aim as the trigger is pulled. Searing pain burns into her side and her hands grasp the wound as she’s knocked onto her knees. She’s looking into Clarke’s eyes, speechless. Guards are shouting and Lexa can hear boots stomping toward her. She looks at Clarke, nodding toward the back of the tent. “Go,” And this time there is no hesitation, Clarke leaves before her men get to her. She lays on her back, closing her eyes, her hands firmly in place against her side. In darkness she waited for whatever fate decided.
