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The first time, it catches her off guard.
The village is hit by raiders -- not a targeted attack, but one of opportunity. When the news of the raid comes in, she thinks nothing of it.
“Send a crew to bury the dead, tend the wounded, help rebuild -- which village did you say it was?”
“Reva, Heda.”
Lexa pauses. Fury swirls in her chest, but she bites it down. “Two crews,” she says. “And a squad to hunt the raiders.”
Her advisor looks at her sharply. His voice is confused as he speaks. “My Heda, that is not-”
“I am the Commander,” she says, her voice hard. “Do as I say.”
“I merely -- is this the best use of our resources? The raiders are surely long gone.”
“Then find them,” she says. “They have tormented our people long enough. It is time we put an end to it.” She stands. “I’m going to my chambers.”
“But Heda, there is more-”
“A recess,” she says. There is a coldness in her voice, a firmness that brooks no dissent. “We will return in half an hour. We can continue with our business then.”
No one makes a sound as she walks out of the council room. No one even moves. She climbs the stairs to her chambers, trying not to stomp, trying not to feel the pain and terror twisting through her heart.
“That was unwise,” a voice says, as she unlocks her door.
Lexa rolls her eyes. “Stow it, Pidan. You don’t approve of anything I do.” She strides across the empty room, pushing aside the curtains that cover her windows. She needs to feel the sun, feel the wind, feel anything at all.
“Because you are still so young and impulsive,” Pidan says. She can feel him beside her, but she refuses to look, though she can’t keep his voice from her head. “You must lead with your head, little girl, not your heart. Emotion is your enemy. It is weakness.”
“Be kind, Pidan.” Becca’s voice is gentle, though it always carries a weight of sadness. “The love of our people is what guides us. We do this for them. It is our greatest strength.”
“It may be strength one day, but she has not learned to use it,” Pidan retorts. “She is ruled by it.”
“She is young,” Becca replies. Lexa can feel her hand on her shoulder. “Do not expect her to have all your wisdom yet, when she has carried the flame only a few months.”
“Is that not why we’re here, Pramheda?” Pidan challenges. “She does have all my wisdom, if only she would listen.”
“Pidan.” Becca’s voice carries power behind it, even in softness. “It is her choice to make. You led our people well in your time. Now it is her time. Her turn. We advise, we do not rule. Times change, and leaders must change with them.”
Lexa wishes the two would shut up, would leave her in peace. The fear and fury, the anguish and guilt are already heavy enough without them. Many of the past Commanders are less… vocal with their opinions, sharing them only when asked or when particularly relevant. But though she appreciates Pidan’s expertise, he never shuts up. And though she appreciates Becca’s kindness and faith in her, she knows that this time, she’s fucked up.
She turns to face them both, staring them down. “I know I shouldn’t have done it,” she says through gritted teeth. “But to back off now would look weaker than my… lapse in judgment. What will come will come.”
“She admits it, at least,” Pidan says, throwing his hands in the air. His close-cropped hair makes his face look even more angular, queer shadows cast by a light not quite of this time. “You must learn, little one, there are more important things than the life of one mere girl-”
“You don’t know anything,” Lexa snarls, her voice white-hot. “She is so much more than ‘one mere girl.’ She is so much more than you could ever understand. You act so smug, thinking you know everything, but you are a fool.”
“And you are selfish,” Pidan retorts, “to waste resources on your bias, to waste lives on your revenge.”
“Don’t you dare call me selfish,” Lexa says, advancing on him. “You know how much I have given up for my people already, and done it gladly. If I had what I wanted, I would be there myself. Not sending my soldiers to clean up the mess, not sitting here dealing with a thousand tiny messes, not waiting and wondering if the list of dead will hold her name. I would be on my horse already, halfway to Reva already. No, I would have been there to protect her.” Her voice breaks, and she turns back to the window. “I never asked to be the Commander.”
Becca’s hand is gentle on Lexa’s shoulder again. “It is not easy to lead,” she says. “We give up so much. We give up our dreams for our people’s, our lives for our people’s.”
“I love my people,” Lexa says, her eyes on the city below, watching people weave through the dusty streets. “But I also love her. Can’t I have both?”
Silence hangs in the air for a long time. It is broken only by a knock on the door. Lexa turns, wiping at her eyes. “Who is there?”
“Heda, the council is waiting to resume.”
Lexa sighs. Her personal quandaries will have to wait.
~*~
The second time, she is more prepared -- and more frightened.
The Grand Progress through the many villages under her rule has been a long one, but rewarding. Lexa wanted to see the people she commanded, to learn from them, to know what they needed to remain strong. Weeks of travel, dozens of villages, but it is all worth it. Especially tonight.
When they arrive in Reva, it takes all of Lexa’s self-control not to slip away at the first opportunity. She meets with the local leader, hears about their struggles and successes, reviews their defenses and their central buildings. She does her best to commit everything to memory, to note what can be learned and what is needed, but she knows her attention is scattered.
“I hope you’re getting all this, Sonia,” she murmurs at one point.
A low laugh rumbles in her ear, one that no one else can hear. “I’ve got you covered, Heda,” Sonia says. “As long as you hear it, I’ll remember it. Just focus on what needs to be done now.”
“Thanks,” Lexa whispers.
“I beg your pardon, Heda?” Her guide pauses, turning to her. “Did you say something?”
Lexa smiles at him. “I was just thanking you for being such an informative guide, and such an effective leader for our people,” she says. “It is always reassuring to see the capable hands that take care of everyone, even when I cannot be here myself.”
The man smiles and bows. “I thank you, Heda, for your kind words and your trust. It is an honour to serve you.”
“And to serve these people,” Lexa says. “You do them credit.”
As they finish the tour, Sonia’s voice whispers in her ear again: “Good cover!” Lexa grins, but doesn’t answer.
Thirty exhausting minutes later, they finish their assessments. There will be more meetings tomorrow, more changes to make and problems to solve and work to do, but for now -- she’s free. The village is hers to explore.
But she doesn’t need to explore. She knows this place like the back of her hand, and there’s only one place she wants to be.
Her feet find the path easily, twisting through the trees and houses of the village to a small building just off the main square. It backs onto the forest, a few hundred feet from a winding creek, and a broad space between is fenced in and filled with rows of flowerbeds. Lexa knows it’s a glorious sight to behold any time of the year, and especially so now as spring turns to summer. But as beautiful as she knows it is, she isn’t tempted from her path for a moment. She strides up the front path, pushes open the door, and steps inside.
The room is well-lit, but it still takes Lexa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the change in brightness from outside. She blinks a few times, taking in the shelves filled with potted plants, the tables stacked with dried flowers, and the smiling woman who sticks her head in through the rear door.
“We’re closing soon, but I -- oh! It’s you!”
A giddy smile spreads across Lexa’s face as she crosses the room towards Costia. “It’s me,” she says. “I came as soon as we were finished for the day.”
Costia’s laugh feels like sunlight. “And here I worried you wouldn’t have time for me,” she says teasingly. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be done. Thought it might be a late night.”
“You’d have waited up,” Lexa says, not a shred of doubt in her voice.
Costia’s smile is soft and soothing, like one of her lavender balms is being applied directly to Lexa’s soul. “I would have,” she agrees. She steps forward, wrapping her arms around Lexa and pulling her in tight. “I missed you,” she whispers.
“It’s good to be home,” Lexa replies, her voice barely more than breath. “It doesn’t matter where I was born or where I work -- my home is where you are.”
“Well then, welcome home, my dear.” She steps back, looking Lexa up and down, taking in the clothing and accessories that mark her as Commander. “This new role looks good on you.”
“You’re biased,” Lexa points out, “but thank you.”
Costia’s eyes slip away from Lexa from the first time, landing on the two guards standing discreetly by the door. “Oh! Forgive my rudeness, I didn’t see you come in -- I was distracted by greeting my... old friend. Lexa, who might these folks be?”
“Oh, right.” She’d forgotten they were there too, forgotten that they would have followed her from the walls, two silent shadows keeping constant watch. Because she was the Commander. Because she was important, and she was a target. She’d tried to argue that she didn’t need protection -- hadn’t she proved that in the Conclave? -- but her words fell on deaf ears. She was their leader, she would be protected. Privacy or independence be damned. “Costia, these are Ultu and Meri. Guards, this is Costia -- I’ve known her since we were little girls.”
The two guards nod. “Pleasure to meet you,” Meri says.
“And you,” Costia says. “But Lex -- are we to have no time to ourselves? Surely these lovely guards understand that two old friends need some time to catch up together?”
“Our duty is the protection of the Heda,” Ultu says. “We apologize for the inconvenience. I assure you, we are sworn to secrecy in all we might see or hear.”
“I’ve tried to reason with them,” Lexa says, grimacing. “They’re very determined. As long as I’m on this progress, they go where I go.”
Costia sighs. “I was so looking forward to -- well, nevermind that. Will you come out to the garden? The lobelias are just starting to bloom; I know they’re your favourites.”
Lexa smiles, and follows Costia through the back rooms and out into the garden. She blinks as her eyes adjust to the brightness once more, then opens her eyes to take in the glorious spread of flowers blooming before her.
Instead, her gaze locks on a blade of sharpened steel, swinging towards her face.
Lexa reacts in an instant, dropping to the ground. She pulls Costia down with her, sending her sprawling in the dirt. “Stay down,” she says, drawing her sword as she rolls back to her feet. “Guards! Ambush!”
There are two attackers, one on either side of the path. Lexa bares her teeth at them, placing herself between Costia on the ground and the would-be assassins looming before her. “Who sent you?” she demands. “I’d like to know where to send my condolences.”
The only reply is the two assassins raising their blades and running towards her.
Lexa blocks a strike from one, ducking under the other’s blade. She twists in a high kick, sending that assailant stumbling backwards until he strikes the wall of the shop. Her guards are outside, now, and in two silver flashes the assassin lies bloody and lifeless on the ground. She turns her attention to the second individual, who dances just out of her reach. Lexa can’t bring herself to step away from Costia, still huddled on the ground, always so innocent and gentle. Everything Lexa was never allowed to be.
The second attacker bolts for the woods, Meri following close behind with long, easy strides. Ultu sticks close to Lexa, looking her over quickly. “I apologize, my Heda, we should have been more on guard. Are you hurt?”
“No,” Lexa says. “Just furious. Costia, are you-”
“I’m okay,” Costia says. Lexa knows that’s half-true at best. Costia’s face is white and her hands are shaking, and she looks a little like she might vomit, but she’s not injured at least. It’s something to be grateful for.
As the thought forms, she hears a voice in her head. “Danger from the north!”
She turns, sword ready, but sees nothing, no one -- until hot, sharp pain blooms in her left shoulder. An arrow fletched with eagle feathers sprouts from her flesh. Lexa screams, pain and rage blending together into one bloodcurdling battle cry.
“ Heda.” Ultu is in front of her now. “We have to get inside, take shelter.”
“Get Costia,” Lexa spits through gritted teeth. She grips the shaft of the arrow and yanks it out with a hiss, feeling blood pulse from the wound. “I’ll follow.”
“You are my charge, I can’t-”
“Go.” Lexa’s voice is thunderous, not to be disobeyed lightly. She scans the forest line, looking for movement, for any sign of -- there. In a pine tree just beyond the fence, she spots the archer. He pulls a second arrow from his quiver, nocking it to his bow.
Lexa lets out another roar, and, ignoring the pain in her arm, throws her sword as hard as she can. It spins through the air, end over end, and buries itself in the shooter’s chest. He sways for a moment, seemingly transfixed by the shining blade, then falls forwards, slamming against branch after branch until he hits the ground.
“Heda, we must go,” Ultu says. Costia is leaning against him. Lexa takes one last look at the forest, then follows him inside.
In the back room of Costia’s shop, Lexa is shoved into a familiar corner with none of the tenderness she’s used to. Ultu drags shelves and tables in front of doors and windows, and Costia gathers medical supplies from a set of drawers. Lexa looks around the room, so full of light and colour and fear, and grits her teeth against the throbbing in her left side.
“This will hurt,” Costia says as she unstoppers one of her bottles and pours the light green liquid onto a cloth. “I’m sorry.”
Lexa is the one who should be apologizing. The ache in her shoulder is nothing compared to the ache in her chest, and even when Costia presses the stinging antiseptic to the wound, Lexa barely flinches. She’s had worse. Seeing Costia trembling on the ground, knowing she was the only thing standing between Costia and a sword -- that was worse. Knowing Costia might watch her die, or worse, she might watch Costia die -- that was far, far worse.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she murmurs. “I know you hate this kind of violence.”
“You’re safe,” Costia says, her voice firm. “I’m safe. That’s more important to me. I’d rather watch you kill someone than watch someone kill you.”
Lexa still wishes Costia hadn’t had to see it. She wishes she could have kept Costia’s memory of her clean. Peaceful. Costia knows, of course, that Lexa has killed -- in battle, in the Conclave, in meting out punishment. But knowing and seeing are different.
Sometimes, Costia feels like the one thing in Lexa’s life that is still unspoiled. The one person who still sees her as gentle. Now, even that feels tainted.
“I’m sorry,” Lexa says again. “Your flower beds-”
“Will grow back,” Costia says, waving a hand dismissively. “They can be replaced. You cannot.” Her hand cups Lexa’s cheek, just for a moment. “You are more important than any flower,” she says, her voice low and serious. “To your people and to me. I’m glad you are safe. That is all that matters.”
“This is my fault,” Lexa whispers. “I put you in danger by being here.”
“You saved my life,” Costia points out.
“You wouldn’t have needed saving without me.” Lexa shakes her head. “I’ll see that you’re assigned a guard.”
Costia frowns. “A guard?” she says. “Lexa, I don’t -- I mean, I’m just me. That seems a little… grandiose.”
“I don’t want anyone to use you to get to me,” Lexa says. “I don’t want you to get hurt. And you don’t want to leave Reva.”
“This is my home,” Costia says. “Everything I’ve known, everything I’ve loved -- well, almost everything-”
“I know,” Lexa says, smiling softly. “I don’t want to steal you from this place. You belong here; your roots are here, your life is here. You wouldn’t like Polis, anyways. But I want you safe.” She takes Costia’s hand, squeezing it. “Please, Costia. Just to ease my mind.”
There’s a knock on the door, a careful pattern of taps and raps. Meri’s signal. Ultu goes to the door, opening it only a crack, conversing in low murmurs.
Lexa tunes it out, focusing on Costia, who is biting her lower lip. “Please, petal,” Lexa says, the words barely a whisper.
Costia’s breath catches at the name. It’s been a while, but it still sits easy on Lexa’s tongue, still tastes like a hundred spring days together, tastes like a hundred summer nights together, tastes like Costia’s mouth and her skin and her heart, all Lexa’s. All she ever wanted.
Costia’s head dips, her eyes closing. “All right,” she says softly. “Anything for you, my star.”
~*~
The last time, she knows she can never truly be prepared.
She stands on the balcony, looking down at the city. Looking at her people. The people she has sworn to protect. The people she has given up everything to lead -- to serve.
Has she failed them?
“It feels like nothing I do is enough,” she whispers. “I can’t protect her.”
“That is the curse of leadership,” Becca says softly. Her hand is feather soft on Lexa’s shoulder, a comfort and a weight at the same time. “We can never save them all.”
Lexa bows her head, biting back words she can’t decide if she means -- I don’t want to save them all; I just want to save her. She wants both. But she’s learning that she might not be able to have either.
“The more I try to keep her safe, the more danger she’s in,” she says. “I make her a target by guarding her.”
“If she is important to you, she is a weapon that can be used against you,” Pidan says. “She might be safer if she were no one.” The words are not said unkindly -- for Pidan, at least -- but they still sting, for all that Lexa has thought them a dozen times already.
The trouble is, Costia could never be no one, not to Lexa. Saying so would be a lie.
But maybe a lie is the best she can do.
“There have been six threats, two kidnap plots, and an assassination attempt,” Pidan continues, “Two guards have already died trying to keep her safe, and three more fighters were wounded during this week’s rescue mission.”
“And you know she chafes under the protections,” Becca adds. “You do too. But she needn’t.”
“If I leave her alone,” Lexa says, “if I withdraw the guards, if I stop… everything -- will she be safe? Or will they hurt her anyways? I’d leave her exposed.”
“It’s impossible to know,” Becca says. “We are only memories. We can’t see the future.”
Lexa can hear the wry smile in Becca’s voice. Sometimes the joke makes her laugh. Today, it just makes another lump swell in her throat. She is the most powerful human on the continent, she has half a dozen of the most brilliant minds stored inside her own, and yet -- she is as blind as anyone else when it comes to predicting the future, as helpless as anyone else when it comes to controlling it.
“Look at it this way,” Pidan says. “Right now, she’s unhappy -- she feels trapped and threatened. You’re unhappy -- you’re distracted and afraid. If you leave it behind, either she lives and you’re both free, or she dies and you’re both free.”
Lexa frowns. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“No,” Pidan says. “It’s supposed to be honest.”
Lexa looks down, her eyes focusing on nothing, trying to see into the twisting infinite possibilities of what could be. For a moment, she thinks how easy it would be to just let go, to leave everything behind, to be free of responsibilities and fears and expectations. To control her own destiny for once.
But she can’t. There are people counting on her. She swore an oath, and she keeps her promises.
“We’ll withdraw the security detail,” she says at last. “I can’t justify it. But I have to -- one of the older warriors, someone looking to settle down -- we’ll move them to Reva, somewhere nearby. To give her something, at least. She doesn’t have to know.”
She expects comments -- praise or criticism, she’s not sure, but something. She closes her eyes, bracing herself, but meets only silence.
At last, she feels Becca squeeze her hand. “I’m proud of you,” the first Commander whispers.
Lexa just nods. “Excuse me,” she says. As though they can ever leave her, or she them -- but she can pretend. “I need to… I have a message to write.” Two, really. One to the guards. And one to say goodbye. The first will be hard, but the second will be nearly impossible.
The Commanders nod, fading into the background corners of Lexa’s mind as she sits at her desk, staring a hole in a piece of paper that’s too small to fit everything she wants to say, but yet the blank space feels yawning, impossibly large. The words swirl in her mind, I’m sorry and I tried and it’s better this way and I love you and please be careful and you deserve to be happy and I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
I have to let you go, she writes at last. At least one of us should be free. I hope you know I always wanted the best for you.
She drafts the note to the guards with her eyes closed, as though if she doesn’t watch it then it didn’t happen. Outside the door of her chambers, she hands the two notes to a waiting runner with instructions to dispatch a messenger to Reva. Then she shuts the door and collapses on her bed, head in her hands.
She wonders if she made the right choice.
For the rest of her life, she never stops wondering.