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They have always been there, those black letters inked into the skin of her wrist. At least as long as she can remember. Her dad said that they appeared when she was seven after he had to pick her up from school because she had broken up a fight between to other kids, but the teacher had believed her to be involved. When they got home that day, he had found the markings on her wrist and after a short moment of confusion explained their meaning. To this day, Clarke knows the story by heart.
Those markings, he had said, are the name of your soulmate. My grandmother used to tell me the legends behind their meaning. A long time ago few people of each generation were blessed by fate and the name of their soulmate, their true love, appeared on their wrist, after they made a decision that influenced the rest of their life, when they chose to go a new path in life. A path that wasn't indented by fate first, but that single moment was enough to change what fate was planning for their life. They had proven themselves worthy and were rewarded with the name of their soulmate. But there were people who were jealous and started spreading rumors that these markings were made by the devil. Human beings are very naïve, and the fear of the markings clouded their minds. People with these tattoos were hunted and killed. And after a while fate gave up on mankind and the markings stopped appearing. Clarke, her father had begged, you need to promise me that you will keep these markings hidden. Even from your mom. Even though these stories are old and almost forgotten, people still haven't learned from the mistakes they made in the past. You are different and human beings are afraid of everything that's different. These markings make you special. For your own protection, I want you to wear a wristband. But I want you to find them. Find your love and never let them go again. Sometimes it takes longer for your soulmate to get their tattoo, if they get it at all. But listen to your heart Clarke, once you find them you will know.
With seven, Clarke had loved her markings and she wanted to look at them all the time. But her father had told her to hide them, so she kept them covered from that day on. Her mother had looked at her funny, but after a long convincing story about this being 'cool' now, she had accepted Clarke's new accessory. Yet at night she would lay awake, follow the fine lines with her finger and make up stories about her soulmate. About their first meeting, how they looked, if they were funny.
With the years Clarke grew more and more aware of how people who were different were treated. And the name on her wrist started to feel more like burden than a blessing. She stopped wondering about them and the stories she had made up in her head got lost between fear and anger. Fear about the markings being discovered one day and she would be treated like an outcast. Anger, because she couldn't understand why she was the one with the tattoo.
Her last bit of hope died the day her father was executed. He was the only one who even knew about her markings and the only one who ever made her believe that they were something good, not a punishment. It had been their secret. One of many. And another of their secrets was the reason why he had to die. The Ark was dying and he thought people deserved to know. The council had him floated before he could tell the truth.
His watch was now protecting the letters on her wrist, but Clarke didn't believe that the marks on her skin made her lucky anymore. They were a secret and secrets get people killed. People she cared about.
Miraculously the prison guards had never taken a closer look to her wrist and she managed to keep her tattoo hidden for the time of her imprisonment.
Now she was on the ground and no one had power over her body anymore. It was a freeing feeling that her body was her own again, no longer belonging to the Ark.
The ease from feeling trapped all her life stopped as soon as she heard their name the first time. Of course at first she thought it could be convenience, first names are not exclusive, people shared names.
But everything changed when she saw them for the first time face to face. It had been as if her entire body had been struck by a thousand lightnings, she felt volcanoes erupting in her chest and the world flowing through her veins.
'You're the one who burned 300 of my warriors alive?'
Clarkes head was spinning; she wasn't here to watch her father's story come true. She was here to save the boy she loved without having his name on her wrist along with the rest of her people.
'You're the one who send them there to kill us.'
Somehow she had managed to find words, but the markings on her wrist had started to burn. Not a warm feeling around her heart. They burned a hole into her skin making it even harder for her to concentrate on why she was here.
'Do you have an answer for me, Clarke of the Sky people?'
The way her name rolled of the brunettes tongue send shivers down her spine and every part of her ached for hearing it one more time.
Later that night, when she was finally alone, the feelings she had successful suppressed for the day came rushing over her again. Carefully she took her father’s watch off and for the first time in years allowed her fingers to follow the black lines on her skin. They felt right now. The way they were written matched of what she had gotten to known about the commander today.
She felt guilty. The commander had asked for Finns life and if Clarke was honest to herself, thinking about the boy now was nothing like it had been before. Her heart wasn't pounding anymore, no more hot and cold shivers running down her spine. All she could think about was her father’s story and the name on her skin and she felt that spark of hope ignite inside her again. Yet her body hurt and mind ached. That night her nightmares stayed away and a peacefully bliss of nothingness gave her back the strength she desperately needed.
Finns death had hit her hard. But not as hard as Clarke wished it had. He left a hole inside her soul, not only because he was gone, but because his death didn't affected her as Clarke thought it would. After all, she had loved him once.
'Then he dies for you.'
Her words were replaying in her mind. It was her fault that he died, his death left her empty, but not as empty as she wanted to feel. His blood was shed by her hand.
'What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days.'
As they stood over the ashes of the fire and she told Clarke that she believe that love was nothing more than weakness, the small flame of hope that had started to burn the day they met threatened to die, but a part of her still believed that underneath the hard shell of the commander she wore around in public like a shield, a softer part was hidden. A part that still believed in the good in people, a part that hadn't given up yet. Believing in this part of her hurt the most.
'Tell me something Clarke, when you plunged the knife into the heart of the boy you loved; did you not wish that it was mine?'
Clarkes insides were screaming, how could she ever believe that she wanted her death? She felt like she had betrayed her.
The first time she ever saw her smile filled Clarke with such joy that her heart jumped in her chest, trying to escape. Yet the fact that they were trapped by a huge gorilla did reduce her happiness.
When she had kissed her she was afraid that she had finally lost her mind.
She had liked kissing Finn, and she thought she had loved kissing him. But as soon as the lips of the brunette had touched her own she knew she never had felt love before. Kissing her felt right. Like she was never supposed to kiss other lips, like she was made for her, only her.
But the image of Finn had somehow found its way back into her mind and the guilt that had eaten her insides came back. The look in the eyes of the girl in front of her as she broke their kiss felt like someone had rammed a knife into her heart. There was nothing she would have loved more than closing the distance between them again and forget the war that was happening around. But her friends still needed her help and Mount Weather needed to fall. So she told her the words she would have wanted to hear so desperately in that moment.
'Not yet.'
The day after the defeated the mountain-men Clarke felt like she was finally able to breathe again. Her friends were free, Bellamy was save and to everyone's surprise the number of people who died was small.
The grounders and her people had fought side by side. No longer afraid of the other, now accepting and united.
The only thing that clouded her mind was that the commander refused to see anyone. During the battle the girl had insisted that Clarke stayed by her side the entire time and as a mountain-man had fought his way into gun range, she had saved Clarkes life by stepping in front of her. The man was dead the second after the shot and the grounders shoulder had only been grazed. But she still wanted to thank her.
After the battle was over, she had seen the grounder leader leaving with her generals into the darkness of the forest.
As soon as the sun had risen again Clarke had tried to talk to her, but Indra and one of her seconds guarded the entry to their leaders’ tent allowing nobody to pass through.
She watched the sun set that night and with nightfall she had hidden herself in her tent, buried her head in her arms, her mind restless since the day the brunette had entered her life and refused to leave her thoughts. She wondered if her father had known that finding your soulmate was so much pain. Her father’s advice of listening to her heart had only brought herself heartache and confusion.
The sound of footsteps entering her tent made her jump and as she sat up she noticed that she had started to cry. With a few hand movements she tried to get rid of the wet stains on her cheeks. Her vision was still blurred but as she recognized who entered her tent her heart skipped a beat.
“What do you want?” Her voice sounded angrier than she intended.
“I need to talk to you. But I wasn't sure how.” The brunette in front of her seemed to have lost her words, her hands nervously fumbling on the seam of her shirt. After a moment of silence, it seemed as if she had found her thoughts again, because she straightened herself and her voice was filled with strength again. “Even though our people march as one now, Clarke of the sky people, there are still a lot of things we can and need to learn from the other. There is a story known to my people that is told at night, after the battle is won and my warriors sit by a fire, celebrating the victory. This legend has always been told among my people and until yesterday I believed it was just that. A legend...” Once again she stopped and collected herself, avoiding Clarke’s eye. “But after our win yesterday I was attending my wounds and I found a mark on my skin that wasn't caused by a sword, a knife or a gun.”
Clarke wasn't sure of what the girl was trying to say. “I… don't... understand. What do you mean?”
“This legend tells us of a time long before ours.” She spoke fast now, as if she just wanted to get everything of her chest. “A time when people, who had proven themselves worthy, were chosen by fate to get a chance of true happiness. One day those people would find a marking on their skin, revealing the name of who is theirs, who belongs to them.”
Clarke couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was her father’s story. She wanted to say something, but the girl in front of her wasn't finished yet.
“And... And last night, I found this on my skin.” The grounder rolled up the sleeve of her shirt and lifted her arm towards Clarke. In thin black letters she could read her own name inked into the skin of the girl standing in front of her. It was as if her entire body went into meltdown. She wasn't able to grasp what was happening in front of her eyes and her facial expression must have changed into something that was giving the commander doubt because she quickly hid her arm again under the fabric. “I know it's not your legend and sky people have different believes than we do. I just... thought you should know.” With that the grounder turned around and wanted to leave the tent again, as finally Clarke gained control over her body again.
With a few quick steps she caught up the brunette again and stopped her by laying a hand on her arm.
“Wait. I... I need to show you something as well.” Her fingers were shaking but somehow she managed to take of her father’s watch and turned her wrist so the girl could read what the markings said.
Carefully she took Clarkes hand into hers and her thumb started to stroke over the black lines on her skin. She seemed to have lost her words because she only stared at Clarke her face frozen in shock.
“I've had these since I was seven. Your legend is told among our people as well.” More to herself than for the girl in front of her she mumbled, “My father was right.”
Not being able to stand the touch of her thumb stroking gentle against her skin any longer, she quickly closed the distance between their bodies. A glance into the grounders eyes gave her the rest bit of confidence she needed to connect her lips with her own. The moment she felt them moving against her own, the fear and anger she had been caring around since her father died disappeared into nothingness and she melted against the other girl forgetting the world around them.
The first kiss they shared had been a desperate try for both of them to convince themselves that life was more about than just surviving, like Clarke had said the moment before.
But now their kiss was much more. They no longer needed convincing, they now knew that love made far too strong to be considered a weakness.
Their kiss was a promise. A promise for something better, something good in this ruled by war and death world.
As their lungs ache for air became stronger than their lips ache for their touch, they broke the kiss and the brunette rested her forehead against Clarkes.
“Your name has always been there. I have been yours all my life and you have always been mine, Lexa.”