Archive of Our Own

Lexa's first memory of Christmas is a meal with her parents—or at least part of one. Lexa doesn't even clearly remember what kind of food was served that day, but what she could never erase from her mind was the crushing disappointment she felt when her parents told her they would only be eating with her in the mid-afternoon because they had to leave for an elegant dinner in TonDC, to celebrate the holiday with friends and business partners.

For Lexa’s parents, there were always more important people to visit, more interesting places to be, and more significant events to attend. Everything else always took precedence over Lexa.

That blurry memory in Lexa’s mind also includes some toys she received as gifts—likely those her parents thought their daughter needed. But they were never what the young Lexa truly wanted. What she really longed for was their presence.

In the following years, Lexa stopped getting excited about the approaching holiday season. After all, those festive days unfolded the same way as the rest of her year did—with her parents completely ignoring the fact that they had a daughter at home, a daughter whose only wish every night was for them to notice her, to see her for the person she was.

Lexa never reached the point of hating Christmas because of this. She loved seeing the streets lit up by bright lights, illuminating the cold winter nights. Inside her mind, she would play a game she called “Who’s the Real One?” where she would carefully observe every Santa Claus she came across during her holiday break and try to figure out which one was the real Santa. This, even though her parents had told her from a very young age that Santa Claus didn’t exist.

Lexa adored the smell that filled her home during the holiday season. Her parents always ensured that their staff decorated the house to perfection, including the grand display of a massive Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments and lights, which would showcase the gifts—gifts that Lexa often had to open on her own, in the absence of her parents.

As a child, she often wondered what it would have been like to have parents who truly cared about her. Maybe, instead of giving her many presents, they would give her their attention, their time, and their love. For years, she fantasized about waking up on Christmas morning, surrounded by people who were genuinely excited to see the surprise on her face as she unwrapped her gifts.

For a long time, Lexa created several handmade "gifts" for her parents, though they never knew about them. She made a beaded bracelet for her elegant mother, hoping she would wear it proudly to the grand galas she attended. She crafted a paperweight for her father’s exquisite and delicate desk, where he spent every afternoon fielding endless business calls. But the young girl soon learned that none of these "silly" things held enough value to make her parents stay or care. They were discarded, like much of what she tried to offer them.

Lexa’s second memory of Christmas carries a different tone—brighter, almost as radiant as the smile of the person responsible for rekindling her love for the holiday season. This person gave Christmas a new meaning, filling it with joy, laughter, and the warmth of a family Lexa had longed for over so many years.

While Lexa still spent Christmas Eve with her parents—maintaining a distant yet cordial relationship—there was a new tradition that made the holiday something to look forward to. Once the formalities of the evening were over at her own home, Lexa’s parents had no objections to Jake and Abigail Griffin coming by to pick her up, allowing her to spend the rest of the night and the following days with them.

This arrangement suited everyone—Lexa’s parents were free to attend their high-society holiday events without guilt, and Lexa no longer yearned for the attention she knew she would never receive from them. Instead, she now had the Griffin family—people who smiled warmly as they watched her open gifts on Christmas morning, sipping hot chocolate from mugs while Jake, always mischievous, snuck in extra marshmallows when Aby wasn’t looking (or when she pretended not to notice).

Lexa also learned that Christmas wasn’t just about spending time with family; over the years, more people began joining their holiday celebrations. A new tradition formed—Christmas dinners with her team. Jake always made sure to have small but thoughtful gifts for each member of the Grounders, along with a packet of holiday sweets. Lexa couldn’t help but chuckle every year at Anya’s feigned indifference, though she never once turned down the gift when it was offered.

The dinners at the Griffin house were never grand feasts prepared by renowned chefs or meant to impress elite guests. Instead, they were simple, home-cooked meals that Jake and Aby prepared together, always shared with anyone who needed a place to celebrate the holiday. Despite their simplicity, Lexa had never tasted food more delicious, and she always suspected that it was more about the love and care of those who offered it than the actual ingredients.

Over time, Lexa also learned that the best gifts are the ones given from the heart, to the people we cherish most. From her very first Christmas with the Griffins, Clarke had always prepared a special gift for Lexa. One of the most memorable was her “first national team jersey,” a project the young blonde had worked on with her mother’s help. “I couldn’t save up enough money, but I hope you like it, Lex,” Clarke had said shyly, presenting the hand-painted jersey to Lexa, who then wore it proudly for a week straight.

As the years passed, the gifts became more personal, filled with meaning and affection. The last gift Clarke gave Lexa before they were separated was a simple pendant—an old gear that Clarke had found, cleaned, and painted gold to bring her luck. Clarke, ever sincere, handed it to Lexa before she left to pursue her dreams far from home and the family that had become her own. “They say it’s a symbol of leadership in some ancient culture I forgot the name,” Clarke blushes in embarrassment but continues “I can’t think of a better leader than you, Commander,” her cheeks flushing as she fastened the necklace around Lexa’s neck, the closeness of the moment making both of their hearts race.

The third type of memory that Lexa holds onto about the holiday season is tied to her years living on her own in TonDC. The first year was the hardest; it was the first Christmas she spent entirely alone. Her parents had decided to take a cruise in the Caribbean that year, perhaps celebrating the fact that they no longer had to be tied down to Arkadia now that Lexa wasn’t there.

Lexa repeated to herself over and over that she had to do this alone, that she wasn’t a child who needed the approval or acceptance of the adults around her. She was a professional player now, and even though her team still saw her as a rookie, she was determined to prove to them—and to herself—that she could give her all for her team, lead them to a championship. She wanted to be the leader that Clarke and Jake always believed her to be. She wouldn’t let them down.

And because she didn’t want to betray that trust, Lexa felt it wasn’t fair to burden the Griffins any further. They had already done more than enough for her, without ever officially being her family. Why should she keep adding to their worries? This was her dream, after all, and she had chosen to strike out on her own. She couldn’t go back to their house as a scared little girl, afraid of her future. She had to be strong, to keep pushing forward on her own.

Lexa almost packed up her things and took Nightblood home before midnight that first Christmas. But just before she could, Ontari called, inviting her to a Christmas party at her mother’s house. Lexa decided it was better to go, better to keep moving forward and start a new chapter.

That’s how a new Christmas tradition began—one filled with unnecessary luxuries, excessive alcohol, food in abundance, and crowds of people. So many people, in fact, that often Lexa didn’t even know half of them. She learned to enjoy the holidays from a different perspective, one focused on excess, on surrounding herself with people to distract from the emptiness she still carried.

But no matter how much she pretended, the truth was that every Christmas, she found herself yearning for those cups of hot chocolate, for the warmth and simplicity of the holidays spent with the Griffins. Every year, she came close to getting in her car and driving back to Arkadia. Every season, she would pull out the small golden gear Clarke had gifted her, the one she kept in her box of cherished memories.

She held onto it tightly, hoping it would continue to give her the strength and luck she needed to be the leader her family—the Griffins—always knew she could be.

—------------

"What are you doing here?" Clarke asks, leaning against the doorframe of the master bedroom. It’s been a couple of days since Lexa and the family moved into her new house in TonDC. “Lextra,” as Raven has so eloquently referred to her for the past few weeks, had sold her loft in the city to buy this new space. “I’m not letting my family stay in a place where bad things happened, Clarke,” Lexa had told her when she questioned the decision. The first few days were spent surrounded by boxes and takeout, but over time, the house had started to take shape. Clarke tries not to think too much about what it means that Lexa once again has a place to call home in TonDC.

Lexa smiles, as she always does when she hears her girlfriend’s voice. "Do you remember this?" she says, holding the gear necklace in her hands.

“Whoa, you still have that? I thought you lost it or something,” Clarke says, slowly walking closer while admiring the small golden trinket in Lexa’s hands. “It’s so ridiculous,” she adds with a smile, remembering the old gift she had made so many years ago.

Lexa scoffs, “It’s not ridiculous, and of course, I didn’t lose it,” she replies indignantly as if it’s absurd that her girlfriend could even suggest such a thing. How could she ever lose something Clarke gave her? If Lexa kept it stored safely in that box, it’s because she never wanted to risk something like that happening.

Clarke laughs softly, leaning in to kiss Lexa tenderly, a gesture of apology. “Of course, you didn’t lose it. I’m seeing it right here in front of me,” she teases. “But I never thought you’d still have it.” She sits beside her on the bed, taking the pendant into her hands and inspecting it closely. The small gear is almost intact after ten years, though some of the paint has worn off at the edges. It had been a cheap paint job, and Clarke is genuinely surprised it’s lasted this long without completely fading.

Maybe it’s time for her to get Lexa a better version of this old trinket. After all, her girlfriend deserves something nicer. The handmade gift had been fine when they were just kids, and Clarke didn’t have enough money to buy a real present. But after everything Lexa has done for her and her family recently, Clarke feels Lexa not only deserves something better but that it could be a meaningful way to show her that, even though she doesn’t have millions, she wants to give Lexa the best she can. 

—-

Clarke is sure she loves her girlfriend. She hasn’t stopped feeling it since the first time she confessed it to Lexa, though she had felt it long before saying it out loud. She really loves her—loves holding her in her arms every morning, loves making breakfast together, loves watching her do her homework or play with Aden, loves that they can talk about everything and nothing at the same time, loves that Lexa is her muse and inspiration, loves how ridiculous her girlfriend is for continuing to say goodnight and good morning to "the girls" before bed and when they wake up.

Clarke truly loves Lexa.

And that’s what she has to keep repeating to herself every ten seconds this morning as she’s freezing to death on the porch of their house, while Lexa waits impatiently for—what? Clarke has no idea because the soccer player hasn’t dropped a single hint as to why they’re standing out here instead of inside the warmth of their home.

Aby, standing a few feet away with Aden in her arms, looks equally confused and cold. The little boy lets out a whine, “I’m cold” burying his face into Aby’s neck as he clutches her jacket for warmth.

Without hesitation, Lexa slips off her own jacket and wraps it around Aden. “Patience, baby boy. It won’t be long now,” she says softly, smiling at him before returning her focus to her phone.

“Lexa, are you sure whatever it is that’s supposed to happen has to happen today?” Aby asks through a yawn. Clarke may not want to discourage her girlfriend, but the doctor doesn’t understand why she, too, has to be out here at this ungodly hour, freezing alongside them.

Lexa, who hasn’t taken her eyes off her phone since they left the comfort of their bed, nods absently. “They should be here already,” she mumbles with a hint of frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Clarke and her family should have received their gifts first thing this morning, and the people responsible for delivering them should have arrived at least twenty minutes ago. Lexa shouldn’t have trusted her friends and Kane for this. She should have hired professionals. What if something went wrong and the gifts were ruined, or worse—what if something happened to her friends because she wanted to make this gesture bigger than it needed to be?

“Baby, can we wait inside?” Clarke asks, trying to hug her from behind, but Lexa shifts slightly, preventing the blonde from peeking over her shoulder and reading the conversation—or the string of curses Lexa has sent over the last few minutes—and ruining the surprise.

“They should’ve been here by now, Clarke,” Lexa whispers again, this time more angrily. By now, she doesn’t know if she’s more upset with her friends or with herself for pulling this stunt. But her pleading look melts Clarke’s resolve, and instead of pressing her girlfriend further, she tries to soothe Lexa’s visible nerves with a tender kiss.

“But they’re not, so let’s wait inside,” Aby suggests again, though her final yawn is cut short when the sound of a car horn blares in the distance.

“They’re here!” Lexa exclaims, still in the middle of returning Clarke’s kiss.

And then both blondes realize it’s not just one vehicle—it’s three. Three enormous, shiny new SUVs, driving in a line like a presidential motorcade, one of them honking its horn wildly.

“Lexa, what is this?” Clarke asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

The brunette completely ignores her girlfriend and quickly makes her way towards the three vehicles that are now parked outside the farm's garage.

From the first one, which had been honking like it was part of a carnival, Raven Reyes emerges. “Whew, these beauties really know how to handle the road,” the Latina says, tossing the keys to Lexa, who fumbles to catch them before shooting a glare at her friend.

“And they guzzle gas as I used to down tequila,” Anya jokes, stepping out of the second vehicle and dodging Lexa’s hand twice before finally handing over the keys.

“But they’re an absolute joy to drive,” adds a smiling Marcus Kane, handing the keys—like a decent person, Lexa thinks—directly into her hand.

“Baby, I know money isn’t an issue for you now, but don’t you think buying three trucks is a bit much?” Clarke asks, completely at a loss for why her girlfriend would need three identical vehicles—aside from the different colours—sitting at home.

Raven snorts. “I can’t believe the Commander bought you this car, Clarke,” she teases, pulling her friend into a hug. “I bet the s-e-x must be phenomenal,” she adds with a wink, making Clarke punch her playfully after the hug.

Clarke rolls her eyes, hoping her son is too distracted by the cars to catch what her best friend just said, but she notices Lexa smirking and nodding shamelessly. Idiot.

“Lexa,” Clarke says in an exasperated tone. She knows Lexa promised to take care of her family, but buying her this kind of car seems excessive.

“Clarke,” Lexa begins, her voice sweetening, using that tone the brunette knows the art teacher can’t resist, “that old car is a death trap, and you deserve a safe vehicle for Aden.” Lexa is certain the safety argument—while also genuinely important to her—will help her case.

“Is that pretty car for me?” Aden asks innocently, rubbing his sleepy eyes, and his smile grows even bigger when Lexa hums in affirmation. Clarke watches as this last argument breaks the final shred of resistance within her—of course, her top priority is always Aden’s happiness and well-being.

“That’s cheating,” Clarke says with a smile, shaking her head. “I still think you shouldn’t have, especially something so expensive,” she adds, though with less apprehension now, before kissing Lexa. Raven, now draped over Anya, lets out a supportive whistle.

“Money isn’t what’s important, Clarke—you are,” Lexa replies with a broad, satisfied smile. “Go take it for a spin,” she says, handing the keys to the first vehicle—a navy blue truck—to Aden, who grabs his mom’s hand and eagerly pulls her towards it.

“You really do love extravagant things,” Aby remarks, walking over to stand beside Lexa as they watch Aden fasten his seatbelt inside the truck.

“Only the best for my family,” Lexa says, smiling, before extending the keys to the second truck, a sleek black one. “I hope you like it, too.”

Aby’s eyes widen in disbelief, her mouth falling open. Lexa never ceases to surprise her, but this gesture isn’t just about the monetary value—it’s about how Lexa is always thinking not just about Clarke’s comfort, but also about making life easier for everyone around her.

“Lexa, no… What you did with the farm…,” Aby shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t… this is too much.”

“Aby, you and Jake gave me a family when I needed it most,” Lexa says, her voice breaking as she fights back her own tears, “and then you let me continue building mine.” She whispers, her gaze locked on Aden, who’s busy discovering all the compartments in the truck, saying something that makes Clarke burst into laughter. Lexa hopes Aby catches the subtle meaning in her words. It’s still too early to talk about being a formal family, but Lexa knows it’s only a matter of time—she just knows. “Please accept this—it’s much less than what you’ve given me in life, but I hope it helps,” she finishes, her voice trembling as she finally lets the tears fall.

“Oh, little one,” Aby says, pulling Lexa into a tight embrace, both of them crying. Kane gently rubs their backs, his own eyes glistening with tears at the deeply emotional scene.

Lexa convinces Aby to accept the car, playfully adding that it’s about time she took Kane for a ride instead of the other way around, as it usually is. The couple laughs, and they head towards the vehicle together, still smiling.

“Red? I didn’t think that was your kind of car,” Anya says, raising an eyebrow as she observes the last remaining vehicle. Raven, now standing beside Clarke, is busy explaining technical details about the truck, getting deep into things only she, as a mechanic, truly understands.

“It’s not,” Lexa responds with a satisfied grin, then extends the last set of keys toward her best friend.

Anya’s eyes widen in shock, and she immediately starts shaking her head, stepping backwards as if to physically distance herself from the gesture. “No, Lexa. No way,” she says firmly, refusing to accept the keys.

“Anya, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Lexa says, her tone laced with playful annoyance but full of affection.

“Lexa, I don’t need your charity. I don’t need you to give me a car,” Anya insists, her voice serious and tinged with indignation, which momentarily breaks Lexa’s composure.

“An, this isn’t charity,” Lexa explains, trying to soften the situation. “I don’t think for a second that you can’t do this on your own. Look at what you’ve built—a home, a lovely relationship, a job, a team. You’ve done all of that yourself.” Lexa looks directly at Anya, hoping she’ll see her sincerity. “This is a thank you and an apology—for our past, and for your future.” She gestures toward Raven, who is now completely absorbed in explaining every little technical detail about Aby’s truck.

Anya looks in Raven’s direction, her face softening as she watches her girlfriend. “You don’t want to tell her that she’s not going to get one to herself, don’t you?” Lexa smirks, knowing that Anya would never deny Raven something that would make her so happy.

“That’s playing dirty, Commander,” Anya says, her voice cracking a little with emotion.

“In love and war, everything’s fair,” Lexa replies with a grin, placing the keys in Anya’s hand, which she accepts, though she’s still looking at Raven, who’s fully engaged in her conversation with Kane.

“Reyes!” Anya yells, causing Lexa to step away, knowing that her friend needs space to share the news with her girlfriend.

Lexa moves towards the truck meant for Clarke, lifting Aden into the passenger seat for their first ride together. As she does, a piercing shriek echoes across the farm, followed by a loud, “NO PUEDE SER!”

Lexa glances back just in time to see Raven spinning around, her face lit up in disbelief. Raven looks directly at Lexa, eyes wide with excitement and gratitude. Lexa smiles back, giving her a knowing nod—grateful that someone like Raven loves her best friend so deeply.

As she buckles Aden into the seat, the boy turns to Lexa with bright eyes and asks, “Can we go really fast?”

“Not too fast, little man. But fast enough,” Lexa replies with a grin as they pull out of the driveway, leaving the joyful scene behind them, knowing her family is happy and safe.

—- —--

“Mooom,” Aden’s voice snaps Clarke back to reality, and from the excitement in his tone, she can already predict that he’s found another one of Lexa’s “toys.” The past two weeks have been like a dream for him. Among all the possessions returned to Lexa after the trial, there was a treasure trove of merchandise from the Walkers and the national team, as expected. But there were also a slew of products featuring Lexa's likeness—everything from video games to almost identical dolls. Clarke swears that by now she has Lexa’s perfectly toned abs etched into her memory. Perhaps one of these toys mysteriously ended up in Clarke’s bag during the past few days.

“That brat is gonna break something,” Lexa says, sounding annoyed, though the wide grin on her face gives her away. There’s no way Lexa can say no to Aden, just like there’s no way she can refuse Clarke anything. The power of the blondes in her life seems to be limitless.

Clarke playfully swats Lexa on the arm. “I told you, if he turns into a brat, it’s your fault,” she teases, pretending to be upset with her girlfriend. In truth, she loves how Lexa can’t help but spoil their son, though she knows they’ll need to set some limits—especially considering how much Lexa has bought for Aden recently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Clarke,” Lexa responds with an innocent smile, leaning over to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek, trying to look completely blameless, though Clarke knows perfectly well that Lexa is behind all of this.

“Mom! Did Santa come early this year?” Aden runs into the room, stopping right in front of Clarke, his cheeks flushed from all the running. Clarke gently wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling at his boundless energy. The little boy hasn’t stopped running through the house these past few days, thrilled by the vast difference in size compared to the small home they have back in Arkadia.

“What do you mean, baby boy?” Clarke asks, confused. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Lexa trying to quietly slip away, but her attention stays on Aden. However, Clarke’s reflexes—honed from years of catching Aden mid-mischief—are quick. She grabs Lexa’s shirt, pulling her back down onto the bed beside her, shooting her a playful but stern look before turning her focus back to their son.

Aden bounces on his toes, still buzzing with energy, and Clarke suspects he’s been sneaking extra sugar, despite her clear instructions to Raven to cut off the sweets. “There’s a huuuuge box under the tree!” he exclaims, stretching his arms out as wide as he can to emphasize just how enormous the object is. Clarke can’t imagine anything that size fitting under the tree they decorated a few days ago.

“That huge?” Clarke teases, still a little sceptical, while Lexa squirms under her accusing stare. “And how do you know it’s from Santa?” she asks with a raised brow.

“Because it’s wrapped in Christmas paper,” Aden says with an exaggerated eye roll as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Clarke knows she might need to find a new babysitter, considering Raven Reyes and Anya Forest are clearly not up to the task.

“Maybe since it’s so big, Santa decided to drop it off early,” Lexa chimes in casually, feigning ignorance as though she has no idea what Aden is talking about, even though Clarke knows very well that Lexa is the mastermind behind the gift. “Or maybe it’s MY present for being so good this year,” she adds mischievously, playfully tickling Aden, mindful that he’s not the biggest fan of tickling.

Clarke watches them with a soft smile. Lexa probably thinks Clarke doesn’t notice, but it’s these small, heartfelt gestures that make Clarke fall in love with her more and more each day. Clarke has never understood how it’s possible, but her love for Lexa is like an endless fountain—limitless, without end.

Aden shrieks with laughter at Lexa’s playful touch. “Noooo! I behaved better this year!” he teases, trying to argue that he’s been better behaved than Lexa and therefore deserves the gift. Sticking his tongue out, he giggles mischievously. Lexa laughs, scooping him up and pretending to toss him onto the bed before “attacking” him with more tickles. “Moooom, heeelp!” Aden pleads, still giggling uncontrollably at Lexa’s playful antics.

Clarke savours the moment, watching them with warmth in her heart. She eventually joins Aden’s side, and together they launch a full-scale “tickle bombardment” on Lexa, as Aden always calls it. For now, Clarke decides not to dwell on the size or contents of the mysterious box under the tree. She knows that once again, Lexa is going to surprise them with something truly extraordinary. Lextra.

—- —- —----

“Where is she?” Clarke hears Aden's voice faintly in the distance as she floats in a blissful haze.

For the past few minutes, Clarke and Lexa have been locked in a slow, tender kiss, savouring every second of their long-awaited reunion after the torturous days apart. Both are wrapped up in each other, basking in the warmth of the moment.

“Moooom?” Aden’s little knock on the bedroom door pulls them back to reality. Lexa immediately presses a finger to her lips, signalling for Clarke to stay quiet before diving under the blankets to hide. Clarke chuckles softly and nods, understanding the playful game Lexa is about to start.

“Come in,” Clarke calls out, quickly smoothing the duvet over Lexa’s form, making it less obvious that someone is hiding beneath the covers.

Aden’s head peeks through the slightly ajar door, his small face scrunching up in confusion when he doesn’t see what he was expecting. “Where is she?” he whispers, his face wrinkling with worry.

“Where’s who, sweetheart?” Clarke asks, pretending not to understand.

“Lexi, where’s Lexi?” Aden asks, his voice laced with concern, as if worried that maybe he had only dreamed of her return. But no, the signs in his room are too real—there’s no one else who could have done what was left behind for him but Lexa.

Clarke sees the distress growing on her son’s face, and that’s when she decides to break the charade. “Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?” she asks, giving Aden a not-so-subtle wink, directing his attention toward the clearly lumpy shape under the blankets beside her.

Aden’s face lights up, but he keeps up the game. “Yes! I think I’ve searched every corner of the world,” he says dramatically, creeping closer to the bed. Clarke, on the other hand, swears that her girlfriend is the worst at hide-and-seek because, at that statement, Lexa snorts in amusement from under the covers, unable to hold back her laugh.

“Hmm, maybe you missed one little corner,” Clarke says in an exaggerated, playful voice, winking at Aden once more as he climbs onto the foot of the bed.

“Oh! Maybe she’s right here,” Aden declares, and with all the force his small body can muster, he throws himself onto the lump beside Clarke. For a split second, Clarke’s heart leaps into her throat, worried that Aden might fall off the bed, but Lexa quickly rolls and shifts her body, catching Aden just in time so that he lands safely beside his mother. How Lexa anticipated that, Clarke has no idea.

“Lexiiiiii!” Aden squeals in delight, clinging tightly to Lexa’s neck, his small arms wrapped around her as though he never wanted to let go. There’s something in the intensity of his embrace that suddenly becomes clear to Clarke—Aden isn’t just happy. He’s been holding onto something deeper, something more fragile.

“My baby boy,” Lexa whispers, settling Aden comfortably in her arms as she leans back against the headboard, cradling him protectively.

“You came back,” Aden whispers, his voice now quiet, almost fragile, and Clarke suddenly feels the weight of all the days apart—the longing, the fear. It wasn’t just her who had missed Lexa all this time; Aden, too, had been carrying that same fear, that tiny whisper of doubt that maybe Lexa wouldn’t come back. That maybe, this time, she might stay gone.

Lexa looks at Clarke, her expression pained as reality hits her as well. Her heart breaks at the thought that Aden and Clarke might have believed, even for a second, that she could find any reason not to come back to them. Lexa knows she has to do something, something powerful to show them both that leaving them is the farthest thing from her mind. She would never, could never, abandon them.

“Of course I came back, Aden,” Lexa says softly, her hand gently rubbing his back to soothe him. She holds him close, letting him stay in the safety of her arms, while Clarke strokes his blonde hair lovingly. They remain like this for a while, wrapped in the warmth of each other, allowing Aden the time he needs to understand that Lexa is back and she’s not going anywhere.

Aden, however, starts to sob quietly, the floodgates of his emotions opening as he clings tighter to Lexa. His small body shakes as he cries, overwhelmed by the fear he hadn’t let himself fully feel until this moment. His tears are a mix of relief and lingering sadness, the kind only a child can understand. Clarke's heart aches for him, and her eyes mist over, too, as she reaches out to comfort her son, running her fingers through his hair in soothing strokes.

Lexa holds Aden even closer, whispering reassurances into his ear as he lets his tears fall freely. “Shhh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

When Aden’s sobbing finally subsides, and his breathing becomes more steady, Lexa gently sits him up in her lap, wiping the last of his tears with her thumb. “I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?” she asks, her voice gentle, reminding him of the agreement they’d made before she left. There’s no accusation in her tone, only a soft nudge for him to remember that she would never break that promise.

Aden nods slowly, still sniffling, his little body calming as Lexa continues to hold him close. “You did,” he whispers, his voice filled with the trust he has for her, though the remnants of doubt are fading away.

After Aden has calmed down a bit and is now snuggled between Lexa and Clarke, his mother can’t help but feel a wave of curiosity. “Aden, how did you know Lexi was here?” she asks, genuinely interested. After all, even Clarke didn’t know Lexa would be arriving a day earlier than planned.

“Because of the presents,” Aden replies matter-of-factly, shrugging his small shoulders as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Presents?” Clarke repeats, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turns to her girlfriend.

“Uh-huh,” Aden responds, still clinging to Lexa’s neck in a perfect imitation of Clarke’s classic pose—the one Lexa always jokes about, calling it the "Koala Hug."

“Just a few things I brought back from TonDC,” Lexa explains, trying to sound casual. “Oh, did you hear that? I think Aden’s stomach just growled. We should probably go have breakfast,” she adds, quickly attempting to change the subject under Clarke’s penetrating gaze.

“It’s like a thousand presents,” Aden mutters innocently, still wrapped in the warmth of his recent emotions.

“A thousand presents?!” Clarke exclaims, her eyes widening in disbelief as her jaw drops.

“It’s not a thousand presents,” Lexa mumbles, her cheeks flushing with warmth. Okay, maybe she did go a little overboard with the gifts for Aden, but can you blame her? There are so many cool things for kids nowadays! For starters, she had to get him the new national team jersey—the one Aden had was from a few seasons ago. But when she got to the store, there were three different versions: home, away, and third kit. Obviously, she couldn’t just choose one, so she bought all three. And of course, Aden needed new cleats—the junior version of the ones Lexa herself used on the field. As for the soccer balls, sports gear, and the mountain of toys... well, those were just small tokens, little details really, which she thought would be fun to leave in Aden’s room to surprise him when he woke up.

“More like seven thousand five hundred,” Aden teases with a cheeky grin, exaggerating the number for fun. Lexa laughs and pulls him into a tight hug, making him giggle loudly, his mood lifting more and more. The sound of his laughter brings a wave of relief to both Lexa and Clarke. Aden’s usually such a joyful, carefree spirit and both women would give anything to keep him that way forever.

Clarke watches the scene unfold with a smile. She can see just how much Lexa adores Aden, how much thought and care go into every gift, and how every action, from the little jokes to the big surprises, is driven by love. It’s moments like these that remind her how deep Lexa’s bond with Aden runs.

For now, Clarke decides to let the matter of the mountain of gifts slide. It’s a special occasion, after all, and it’s not like this is going to become a regular thing... right?

—-----

“T-truce, truce!” Aden gasps, his small chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He stretches his hands out in surrender, looking up at Lexa with wide, pleading eyes, desperate for a moment’s mercy from her relentless tickles. But the grin on his face betrays his delight at the whole playful ordeal, a spark of mischief still glimmering in his eyes.

Lexa narrows her eyes at him, her tone dropping to mock seriousness. “Remember what that means,” she says, her gaze steady as she studies him closely, suspicious of the boy's sly ways. Aden has tricked her too many times with that innocent smile of his—just when she thinks he’s done with their game, he springs back into action with a sneaky counterattack. But she’s learned her lesson. She may seem relaxed, but her defences are firmly in place, ready for anything.

Aden, sensing Lexa’s guarded stance, nods solemnly. He takes hold of her forearms, his tiny hands squeezing her arms as he leans in to press his forehead against hers. His eyes meet hers, a sudden sincerity reflected in their blue depths as he speaks in a low, heartfelt voice. “Word of honour,” he says, the phrase carrying a weight far beyond his years, a sacred promise that seems almost ceremonious as he holds her gaze.

Neither Lexa nor Clarke has ever been able to pinpoint exactly where he picked up the phrase "word of honour"—it’s not something either of them or even Aby uses often. But they've come to understand that when Aden says it, he means it with every ounce of his young heart. They share a smile, touched by his commitment and earnest promise, making the playful moment feel much more precious.

Just then, a soft knock on the door breaks their reverie. Aby steps into the room with a warm smile, watching the little scene unfold with clear affection. “Aden, sweetheart, it’s time for your shower,” she says gently, her voice carrying a hint of that unmistakable grandmotherly warmth. “Let’s get you cleaned up for the day.”

Aden’s expression falters slightly, a tiny frown tugging at his lips as he glances back at Clarke and Lexa, something unspoken lingering in his gaze. After a moment, he hesitates, his brow furrowing with concern. “But… you two are going on a date,” he murmurs softly, his voice tinged with disappointment as he realizes he won’t be joining them.

Clarke crouches down to his level, reaching out to gently smooth back a stray strand of his hair. “Hey, buddy, we actually had a date with you just a few days ago, remember?” she says with a soft smile, hoping to reassure him.

Aden’s face brightens as the memory comes flooding back. “Winterland!” he exclaims, his tone filled with wonder. Lexa nods, smiling as she recalls the day.

“Yup! We went to Winterland in the city, and you even beat me at the snowball toss!” Lexa adds, raising an eyebrow in a mock challenge. “And I don’t know how that happened because I was totally bringing my A-game!”

Aden giggles, puffing up a bit with pride at his victory. “I did beat you!” he says with a grin, clearly savouring the memory. Clarke chimes in, reminding him of all the fun they had.

“We had hot chocolate with those big marshmallows, and remember the amazing light show we saw afterwards?” she says, her eyes twinkling. “And you skated all around us, making circles and showing off your moves while we watched.”

Aden’s grin widens as he remembers, but a flicker of longing remains. “Okay… but why can’t we do that again?” he asks a little spark of hope in his voice.

Lexa’s expression softens, and she crouches down beside Clarke, pulling Aden in for a gentle hug. “Because tonight, your mom and I want a little time for just us,” she explains softly. Her smile shifts to a playful smirk as she adds, “And besides, we’re probably going to kiss a lot.” She winks at Clarke, leaning in to give her a quick, teasing peck on the lips.

Aden’s face scrunches up in utter disgust, his eyes widening as he looks away dramatically. “Yuck!” he exclaims, shuddering as though he’s witnessed the most revolting thing. “Why would anyone want to put their mouth on someone else’s mouth? It’s so… gross!” He sticks out his tongue, his face a comical mask of horror, causing Clarke and Lexa to burst into laughter.

Aby, still watching from the doorway with that soft smile of hers, gently interjects, her voice warm and inviting. “Aden, sweetheart, you know, if you go with them, who’s going to keep me company tonight?” she asks, leaning down just enough to meet his eye level, her words full of gentle affection.

Aden pauses, looking over at his grandmother thoughtfully. He glances back at Clarke and Lexa, then back at Aby, clearly torn. “But… I can stay with you?” he asks, his voice filled with curiosity, a slight hint of pride rising in his tone.

Aby’s face lights up, and she nods, reaching out to give his shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze. “I would love that, my sweet boy. You’d be helping me so much by staying here with me,” she says. “And, of course, I need my best little helper to keep me company while Kane’s out. Who else could I count on?”

Aden’s eyes brighten, and he stands a little taller, his chest puffing out as he nods, a new sense of purpose settling over him. “I can take care of you, Grandma!” he declares, his voice full of pride, clearly thrilled to be her special helper for the evening.

Clarke and Lexa exchange a look, both deeply touched by the bond between Aden and his grandmother. As they watch him proudly declare his intentions to stay by Aby’s side, they can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. The sight of the two together fills them with the kind of joy that only family can bring, and they exchange a silent smile, knowing they’ll have a wonderful evening together and that Aden will be in the best hands possible.

“Are you ready to try out the Commander?” Lexa asks, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips as she glances into the rearview mirror, catching her best friend’s eye. Raven rolls her eyes in response to the innuendo, her expression a perfect mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I thought that already happened,” Raven murmurs with a teasing grin, causing Clarke’s cheeks to bloom a vivid shade of red.

“And a little too often in the past week, if you ask me,” Anya adds, her voice laced with mock disapproval as she gives her best friend a stern look, watching as Clarke’s blush deepens to a brilliant crimson.

It’s been just over a week since everyone in the family arrived at Lexa’s new home in TonDC. The sprawling house had been the perfect setting for laughter, shared meals, and long conversations around the fireplace. Though the whole crew is present, one key family member is missing: Marcus. He’d promised his kids he’d spend this season in Polis, wanting to support them and see firsthand everything they’re up to at the university.

Tonight, the two couples—Clarke and Lexa up front, with Anya and Raven in the back—are heading to Trikrus, Lexa’s favourite spot in the city. The car glides along the winding roads, weaving through the city’s brightly lit streets. 

“One Commander per week is never enough,” Clarke replies bravely, casting a sideways look at Lexa with a twinkle in her eye, clearly aiming to get a rise out of Anya. Sure enough, Anya lets out an exasperated groan, pressing her forehead dramatically against the window, as though seeking refuge from the shameless banter.

Beside her, Raven can barely keep her laughter in check. She gives Clarke a supportive nod, grinning as she reaches across to Clarke for a high-five, approving of her friend’s quick comeback. Anya lets out a sigh but doesn’t hide her smile entirely; as much as she pretends to disapprove, she wouldn’t trade this playful group dynamic for anything.

As Clarke blushes, Anya sighs, rolling her eyes with a smirk. She crosses her arms, turning to Raven with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "Alright, I think we've heard enough about Lexa’s… extra practices," she says, drawing out the last two words for emphasis. She leans forward between the front seats, tapping Lexa’s shoulder lightly. "Why don’t we give your 'commanding skills' a rest and put on some music instead? I’d like to reach the restaurant without hearing any more about my almost-sister’s love life."

The car falls quiet for a beat, Clarke’s cheeks a shade darker, Lexa biting back a laugh as she meets Anya's eyes in the rearview mirror. She reaches forward to adjust the music system, catching Raven's look of appreciation in the reflection.

“Finally,” Anya mutters, reclining back with a satisfied smirk. As the soft thrum of music fills the car, a classic rock tune from one of Raven’s favourite playlists, the quiet transforms into a comfortable calm. It’s as if Anya’s suggestion has granted them all a moment to unwind, a break from their relentless teasing. The familiar melodies fill the space, and the hum of the car merges with the beat, creating a calming rhythm as they cruise through the neon-lit streets.

Anya shares a knowing smile with Raven, leaning her head back as the city lights blur past. The couple in the front exchanges a final grin, Clarke’s blush now replaced with an amused smile. The car’s atmosphere has shifted, mellowed by the shared silence and the music, each of them sinking a little deeper into their seats, feeling more connected by the unspoken bond between them.

It’s a brief pause, a few silent minutes to simply exist together before the car fills again with a fresh round of laughter as they near Trikrus, Lexa’s old stomping grounds with the Walkers, where she first made her mark as a young, fearless player.

The restaurant, Trikrus, is exactly as Lexa had described it when she first told Clarke about her favourite spot—it’s far from fancy. A modest diner just a few blocks from the Walkers’ stadium, the building is marked by a large neon sign that reads "Trikrus" and an old, flickering "Open" sign hanging on the door.

As they step inside, Clarke is instantly struck by the eclectic decor, a world away from the modern, polished restaurants she’s used to. The walls are packed with memorabilia from the Walkers—Lexa’s team—ranging from jerseys and framed newspaper clippings to a vast collection of photos of Lexa herself, proudly displayed in various team uniforms. There are images of her in action, mid-game shots with intense expressions, celebratory embraces with teammates, and even some of her in the national team’s colors. Trophies, both large and small, line several shelves above the tables, and neon signs illuminate words related to soccer, interspersed with quotes from famous rock songs, casting colorful glows over the walls.

The diner’s atmosphere is as much a fusion of ideas as the decor itself: in one corner, a throne crafted from twisted tree branches sits like an odd relic, while on the opposite side, a group is gathered around a makeshift tattoo station. A burly man with a full beard and tattoo sleeves works on an equally rugged client, who holds a beer in one hand while getting inked, looking completely at ease. Clarke can’t help but question the sanitation of getting a tattoo inside a restaurant, but the casual ambience of the place seems to suggest it’s just another ordinary night at Trikrus.

A rowdy group of bikers and rough-looking men fill the diner, adding to its unique charm. Some wear faded leather jackets, emblazoned with various patches and insignias, while others sport Walkers jerseys, shouting good-naturedly over one another as they raise large beer mugs in cheers. Rock music blasts through the speakers, with some patrons chiming in, singing along to the familiar tunes, creating a nostalgic vibe that vibrates through the air. There’s an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner, its bright lights flashing as it takes requests from patrons who occasionally wander over to pick a song.

Several large TVs mounted around the diner play a mix of current and past Walkers games, some showing highlights of recent matches, while others feature clips from classic games that spark loud debates among the regulars. The energy is palpable, a blend of camaraderie and rough-edged warmth that feels welcoming, despite the diner’s rugged atmosphere. Clarke catches sight of a few burly men laughing and half-hugging each other as they chant along to the music, a scene reminiscent of a Viking tavern or medieval hall where everyone gathers around a blazing fire to celebrate together.

Clarke is fascinated, taking in the raw sense of community and belonging that radiates from everyone around her. This is clearly a world Lexa belongs to, a place where she’s not just another athlete, but a respected member of a tight-knit family. It’s a side of Lexa that’s both surprising and endearing, and Clarke feels a spark of excitement, intrigued to learn more about how Lexa fits so effortlessly into this unique community.

Clarke is pulled from her quiet observations when a deep, booming voice echoes through the room. “Heda!” she hears, and as she turns, she spots a towering man making his way over. He’s broad-shouldered, with a wild beard and an imposing, bear-like presence that instantly has Clarke's pulse quickening. For a fleeting second, she feels a pang of nervousness under his heavy gaze. But just as quickly as it appeared, that feeling vanishes. Lexa lets out a delighted laugh—an unexpectedly soft, joyful sound Clarke rarely hears from her—and practically leaps into the man’s arms.

“Gustus!” Lexa’s voice is full of excitement, a genuine warmth and vulnerability Clarke seldom witnesses. It’s a far cry from her usual composed demeanor and confident leadership. Seeing Lexa lower her guard so easily around him, with her face lit up in pure joy, makes Clarke’s heart swell. It’s moments like this that make her realize just how many layers her partner has, and she relishes each glimpse she gets of the person Lexa is when she’s with her chosen family.

The giant man lifts Lexa off the ground with a laugh, spinning her around before setting her back on her feet. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” he says in a low, slightly trembling voice that hints at the depth of his affection. There’s a raw sincerity there, as though he’s worried she might vanish if he lets go.

Lexa grins up at him, her joy tinged with a hint of guilt. “Sorry for disappearing for so long,” she murmurs, her voice filled with quiet regret for the years spent apart. Those years were shaped, in part, by her ex, Costia, who had subtly pushed Lexa away from people she deemed “beneath her,” people like Gustus, who had been there for Lexa from the beginning.

“You’re always welcome here, Heda,” Gustus replies earnestly, his voice a mixture of pride and relief. The warmth in his words touches Clarke, and she instinctively places her hand over her chest, feeling a bit of the emotion Gustus must be feeling. The tender moment between Lexa and Gustus draws his attention to Clarke, and he turns to her with a curious, appraising gaze.

“Is she… your Niron?” Gustus asks Lexa softly, using a word Clarke doesn’t fully understand, though the implication seems clear enough. He glances at Clarke, a glint of recognition in his eye as though seeing the bond between her and Lexa with absolute certainty. Clarke feels her cheeks warm slightly under his intense stare, but she holds her ground, smiling softly at him.

“Yes, Gustus,” Lexa replies with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looks at Clarke with a warmth that needs no translation. “This is Clarke,” she adds, reaching out to take Clarke’s hand and pull her gently forward.

Gustus’s eyes soften as he steps forward, extending a hand toward Clarke. “Ah, meizen,” he says with a playful smirk, glancing back at Lexa, whose cheeks flush at the teasing tone. He gives her hand a firm shake, but before she can pull back, he pulls her into a massive hug, his laughter rumbling as he does so. “She is meizen!” he chuckles again, loud enough for Lexa to hear, squeezing Clarke gently before letting her go. She’s briefly caught off guard but quickly relaxes, feeling the strength of his warmth. As he releases her, he whispers softly, “Heda’s Niron,” his voice thick with emotion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Just as Clarke is about to ask Lexa what all of those words mean, Raven jumps into the conversation with a smirk. “I’m Raven Reyes, and I’d also appreciate being considered meizen,” she says, her tone teasing and drawing a playful laugh from Gustus. He chuckles, glancing at Lexa, clearly amused by her friend’s confidence.

“Wait—do you speak Trigesdaleng?” Gustus asks, raising an eyebrow with a spark of interest in his eyes.

Raven shrugs, casually leaning against Anya, who stands by her side with an expression somewhere between amusement and annoyance. “I dated a Trikru girl a long time ago,” Raven admits with a playful grin, throwing Anya a challenging look. “Didn’t learn much, but I picked up enough phrases to make her fall for me,” she adds, her tone directed at Anya, as if daring her to react.

Anya grumbles under her breath, clearly irritated. "It didn’t work out too well, though, did it?” she mutters, attempting to seem unaffected. Raven’s confident smirk and Anya’s barely-contained jealousy only make Clarke chuckle, amused by the couple’s bickering.

Before the conversation can delve any deeper into Raven’s past romances, Lexa takes the opportunity to introduce Anya. “And this is my best friend, Anya,” she says, gesturing with a warm smile.

Gustus’s eyes widen as he registers the name. “The goalkeeper, right?” he says with a hint of admiration. Lexa nods, surprised by his memory.

Anya coughs slightly, shifting her weight as she processes the realization that Lexa had, at some point, spoken about her here, in this city. Despite everything that happened before Lexa left, she still considered Anya important enough to share with the people she met. Knowing Lexa hadn’t forgotten her so easily brings a wave of gratitude Anya doesn’t quite know how to express.

“And Gustus, of course, is the owner of Trikrus,” Lexa explains, pride evident in her voice. “He’s the one who turned it into more than just a restaurant—a true sanctuary.” Clarke can see the warmth in Lexa’s eyes as she glances around the bustling space, clearly grateful for what Gustus has created here.

“Come on in, all of you!” Gustus finally exclaims, clapping his hands and directing a young waiter to show them to a table. Though Trikrus is far from fancy, Gustus takes pride in welcoming anyone Lexa considers family. The staff is a mix of young folks, each given a chance to work in this unconventional restaurant, despite the place’s relaxed vibe. The tables are surrounded by customers who, rather than relying on servers, happily serve themselves, adding to the atmosphere of casual friends.

After indulging in what all four women agree are the best burgers they've ever had—and they all silently promise never to mention this to Echo—Raven and Anya get up to browse the photos and memorabilia scattered throughout Trikrus. Clarke and Lexa remain seated as Gustus joins them at the table, a soft smile on his rugged face as he glances between them.

“So, Heda, are you okay?” Gustus asks, cutting to the chase in that direct way Lexa remembers so well. From the moment she first met him in her early days at TonDC, Gustus had always known how to give her space but wasn’t one to mince words when he wanted answers. He was like a steadfast anchor, there to catch her if she fell, always seeing right through any façade she might try to wear.

“More than okay, Gostos,” Lexa replies, using the Trikru pronunciation of his name with an accent thick and affectionate. She squeezes Clarke’s hand and lifts it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. The subtle gesture makes Clarke blush, a rosy hue coloring her cheeks as Lexa meets her eyes with unspoken love.

Gustus grins at the display, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness for his old friend. “Told you you’d find her, Heda,” he says, giving her boot a light nudge with his own. Lexa chuckles softly, the warmth of his words melting away any lingering tension.

“You told me so many times,” she responds, her fingers lacing through Clarke’s. “I regret not believing you sooner,” she murmurs, brushing a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek.

“Heda will always find their Wanheda,” Gustus says in a tone that feels almost sacred, the weight of the words settling like a quiet blessing.

Curiosity finally getting the better of her, Clarke speaks up. “Why do you call Lexa ‘Heda’?” she asks, looking at Gustus with a mix of wonder and trepidation. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she adds quickly, suddenly nervous.

Gustus’s laughter reverberates through the cozy diner, drawing the attention of a few patrons. “It’s never a bother to answer questions from Heda’s niron,” he replies, noticing Clarke’s confusion deepen at the unfamiliar word.

“We come from Trigedakru, the people of the woods,” he explains, and Clarke nods, her mind racing to recall the little she knows about their culture. “Our ancestors survived by living deep within forests, creating their own language and traditions to stay hidden and protect their people. There’s a legend that speaks of a leader born to unite all clans—there are Heda is our word for this leader, one destined to bring peace and harmony, a commander of justice, and compassion”

A smile spreads across Clarke’s face as she presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s cheek, which has turned a warm shade of pink. 

Lexa recalls that it was Gustus who first began calling her “Heda,” back when he saw her play for the TonDC Walkers for the first time. He told her she was destined for greatness, that leadership ran in her blood, and that one day she would guide her team, her city, and perhaps even her country to victory. Gustus had meant every word, and ever since, he hadn’t gone a single day without calling her Heda—a title Lexa had never truly believed she deserved. Yet like Jake, Gustus had become a paternal figure in the city for Lexa, a constant reminder of the legacy she aspired to live up to.

“Is there another title you mentioned I would find?” Clarke asks, looking at Lexa, intrigued by the depth of the titles and meaning behind their journey.

“Wanheda,” Lexa replies softly, her tone warm and almost dreamy as she exchanges a knowing look with Gustus.

Gustus nods in agreement, his gaze sincere as he looks between the couple. “Wanheda is Heda’s other half,” he explains with a smile. “The balance to Heda’s life. While Heda brings peace and unity, Wanheda brings courage, protection—even if it means walking into danger. In our culture, life and death are woven together, each an essential part of the other. Legend has it that Heda exists because of Wanheda, to protect and honour them, and would willingly give her life for them.”

Clarke chuckles, giving Lexa a playful pout. “That all sounds very romantic, but don’t even think about sacrificing yourself for me, or we’ll have words,” she says with a teasing glint in her eyes before leaning in to give Lexa a tender kiss on the lips.

Lexa, feeling bolder than usual, whispers softly, “Nowe, niron,” in the same heavy accent Gustus uses for Trigedasleng words. Clarke’s cheeks flush even deeper, and though she has no idea what Lexa just said, her heart races at the intensity in Lexa’s voice. The desire to whisk Lexa home, to find out everything she knows in Trigedasleng, ignites in her, but Gustus’s presence reminds her to keep her composure.

Clarke’s attention is briefly captured by a wall of photos nearby, where Raven and Anya stand, both completely engrossed in the images of different moments in Lexa’s life. Her eyes stop on one photo in particular: a much younger Lexa, beaming widely, her hair tied back in a loose braid, with an Olympic medal hanging proudly around her neck. Gustus, looking younger with fewer gray hairs and a proud smile, stands beside her with an arm draped over her shoulder. In the image, Lexa’s face is free of the weight of leadership she wears now, a joy untouched by responsibility, and Clarke’s heart aches for this young version of her partner who seemed so light, so carefree.

“Wait—there was another word,” Clarke recalls, pulling herself back to the present. “You called me Heda’s niron?”

Gustus grins and is about to explain when Lexa interjects, “Ah, that’s something I’ll explain to Clarke myself,” she says, smirking as Clarke huffs in playful annoyance.

“For now,” Lexa adds, her voice soft and low, “I think it’s time we head home.” Her words send a shiver down Clarke’s spine, and she feels herself fighting the urge to squirm, her heart racing at the thought of finally being alone with Lexa.

The four women bid Gustus farewell with strong hugs and promises to return soon. Before they leave, he pulls Clarke aside, whispering with a grin, “I hope to see you as Heda’s houmon someday.” Clarke doesn’t know the literal meaning, but the sentiment is clear, and she grins back, nodding. Whatever it means to be Lexa’s, she wants that with every fiber of her being.

As they drive home, Anya takes the wheel with Raven resting her head on her shoulder. Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke, the two of them nestled close as they watch the holiday lights twinkling through the city. Lexa leans close to Clarke, her voice a gentle whisper. “Ai hod yu in, niron,” she murmurs in her ear.

Clarke doesn’t understand the words, but their weight, their intensity, resonates with her, and her heart swells in response. She’ll make Lexa tell her someday, but for now, the warmth in Lexa’s arms and the quiet strength of those words are more than enough.

—-------

The house in TonDC is alive with blinking lights and the warm, nostalgic sound of carols. Lexa, in true meticulous fashion, has curated the playlist with surgical precision to ensure the atmosphere is nothing short of perfection. Yet, the decorations and the tree brimming with gifts arranged like pieces on a tactical map aren’t what stands out. It’s Lexa herself, darting around the kitchen like a whirlwind of purpose and nerves.

Bent over the oven, Lexa adjusts the temperature for what must be the fiftieth time, her expression one of intense focus. A timer buzzes insistently on the counter, but Lexa doesn’t flinch; she’s already reaching for a tray of half-decorated buñuelos as though Raven herself might appear to critique the symmetry of the sugar dusting.

From the doorway, Abby Griffin leans against the frame, one brow arched in her signature "mom-knows-best" way. She watches the organized chaos for a full minute before deciding it’s time to step in.

“Lexa,” Abby starts, her tone heavy with mock exasperation. “Am I officially exiled from the kitchen, or is this just a temporary occupation?”

Lexa doesn’t look up, her attention fixed on the turkey as though she’s strategizing for a coalition-level summit. Without missing a beat, she replies, “You’re not exiled, Abby. You’re… delegated.”

Abby snorts and steps further into the room, arms crossed as she surveys the battlefield of ingredients, pots, and an assortment of utensils that look like they belong in a cooking show. “Delegated, huh? Then explain why every time I try to step in, you intercept me like I’m a fan who’s trespassed onto the field during game time.”

Lexa finally looks up, frowning slightly. Her lips twitch as though she’s suppressing a smile, and Abby doesn’t miss the faint pink creeping up Lexa’s cheeks. 

Abby chuckles and steps closer, picking up a tray of buñuelos Lexa has been decorating with an intensity that could rival an artist painting their masterpiece.

“For goodness’ sake, Little One, this isn’t a feast for the entire coalition. Are we expecting delegates from the other clans to drop by, or what?”

“I just want to make sure there’s enough for everyone,” Lexa says defensively, tugging at the edge of her apron.

Abby sets the tray down with a soft clatter, giving Lexa a look that’s equal parts fond and exasperated. “There are eight of us. Even if Aden eats like he’s fueling for battle, there’s enough food here to last us until New Year’s.”

Lexa opens her mouth to protest, but Abby raises a hand to stop her. Her voice softens as she places a comforting hand on Lexa’s shoulder.

“Lexa, I know how much tonight means to you. But it’s already perfect because you’re doing it with love. You don’t need to go to war with a turkey to prove that.”

Lexa hesitates, her gaze lowering to the countertop. After a moment, she says quietly, “My first Christmas with you guys… it was the first time I ever felt what a real family celebration could be like. Jake and you, you made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t just a guest you took in.” Her voice wavers, but she keeps going. “I remember Clarke handed me my first gift—a scarf she knitted herself. It was hideous,” she adds with a faint smile. “But it meant everything.”

Abby’s expression softens, and she steps closer, her hand now resting firmly on Lexa’s shoulder.

“I just… I want that for Aden,” Lexa admits. “This is my first Christmas with him, and I want him to feel the same way I did that night. Like I am part of his family now.”

Abby squeezes her shoulder gently, her voice warm. “And he will, Little One. He already does. Because you made this place feel like home for him. And no amount of perfectly cooked turkey or symmetrical buñuelos will change that.”

Lexa exhales slowly, glancing at the oven with noticeably less tension. Abby sees the change and decides to strike while the iron is hot.

“And let’s be honest,” Abby adds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “if you don’t take a breather, Clarke is going to come and try to cook for herself. And you know how that’ll end. Dinner’ll be burned, and we’ll all be chewing on charcoal.”

Lexa’s laugh is reluctant but genuine, her shoulders finally relaxing. Abby leans in closer, her tone dropping to something more intimate.

“You know what really matters tonight?” Abby says softly. “That everyone feel just how much they are loved by this family, the way you did that first Christmas with Jake and me.” 

Lexa nods, finally conceding and knowing that the message was clearly directed to her. Abby gives her a gentle nudge toward the kitche’s door. 

“Now go finish getting ready. Clarke’s been upstairs for two hours, and if you don’t hurry, you’ll end up spending Christmas dinner in that apron.”

Lexa hesitates, glancing back at the kitchen. “What about the turkey?”

Abby waves her off. “I’ll handle it. Trust the expert, alright?”

With one last grateful look, Lexa removes her apron and heads upstairs. Abby watches her go, shaking her head with a fond smile.

“That girl,” she mutters, turning back to the oven. “The only one who can turn Christmas dinner into an epic battlefield.”

With a chuckle, Abby sets to work. It’s Christmas, and the best gift she can give Lexa is a reminder that she doesn’t have to carry everything alone.

Lexa adjusted the final details of her black suit in front of the mirror. The crisp lines of the tailored jacket and the smooth fabric of the black shirt beneath highlighted her slender figure with an effortless elegance. The simplicity of her attire made her presence all the more commanding, radiating an understated confidence. Yet, what stood out the most was her hair. Long, flowing, and naturally wavy, it was now braided in an intricate style that combined formality with practicality. Each braid seemed woven with intention, a subtle homage to her role as a leader, evoking an air of readiness—as if she could step straight into a battle and emerge victorious.

Despite her poised reflection, a faint trace of unease tugged at Lexa’s expression. Nervousness wasn’t an emotion she often entertained; it felt foreign, almost unwelcome. But tonight was different. The braided hairstyle wasn’t her idea—it was Anya’s. Anya had insisted, convinced that the look would emphasize Lexa’s natural authority while adding a touch of something special for the evening. Lexa had agreed, albeit hesitantly. Now, as she studied her reflection, a single thought lingered: Would Clarke like it?

Turning toward the door, Lexa froze mid-step. The door was ajar, and standing there, adjusting a pair of earrings, was Clarke.

For a moment, Lexa forgot how to breathe.

Clarke wore a dark green suede dress, a shade so rich it mirrored the depths of a winter forest. The material clung to her figure in all the right places, the neckline drawing attention to her elegant collarbones and the gentle curve of her shoulders. The way the dress moved with her—flowing yet structured—made it seem as though it had been crafted solely for her. The deep green contrasted strikingly with her golden hair and made her blue eyes shine like polished sapphires.

Lexa’s lips parted, words failing her. “Wow…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze roamed helplessly, drawn to the graceful lines of Clarke’s silhouette, lingering—perhaps too long—on the tantalizing dip of the neckline. A heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks as her thoughts teetered on the edge of distraction, but it wasn’t just the physical allure that left her awestruck. It was Clarke’s essence—her confidence, her radiance, her warmth—that made Lexa’s chest tighten. How is it possible that someone so breathtakingly beautiful, so ethereal, chose me?

Clarke’s lips curved into a soft smile as she caught Lexa’s stunned expression. She stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, her gaze sweeping over Lexa with equal admiration. But then her attention shifted, and her brow arched as she took in the braids.

“This is new,” Clarke said, her tone a mix of curiosity and affection. She reached out, fingers grazing one of the intricate braids, her touch featherlight. “Who’s behind this masterpiece?”

Lexa’s composure faltered slightly, her eyes darting away before she managed to meet Clarke’s gaze again. “Anya,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “She said I needed to look more… «festive»” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, though it was tinged with vulnerability. “What do you think? Is it too much?”

Clarke’s response came swiftly and unequivocally. “Too much? Not even close.” Her fingers slid gently along the braid, tracing it to where it rested near Lexa’s shoulder. “I love it. You look… incredible. Like a commander ready for battle, sure. But more importantly, like my commander.”

The words hit Lexa with a warmth that spread through her chest, chasing away any lingering doubts. A blush crept up her neck, evident even in the soft light of the room. Clarke’s laughter bubbled up, light and teasing, as she leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Lexa’s mouth.

“I’m glad you like it,” Lexa murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

“Lexa,” Clarke said, her tone firm yet tender as her hands found Lexa’s waist, pulling her closer. “It already is. Because I’m with you.”

The space between them vanished as Clarke tilted her head and kissed Lexa, slow and deliberate, pouring every ounce of her love into the gesture. Lexa responded with equal intensity, her hands resting on Clarke’s hips as if grounding herself in the moment. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a celebration, and an affirmation of everything they shared.

When they finally parted, Clarke rested her forehead against Lexa’s, her breath mingling with hers. “You’re perfect,” she said softly, her smile luminous. “And there isn’t a hairstyle or a suit in the world that could change that.”

Lexa’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, her nerves dissolving entirely. “You’re the reason I strive for perfection,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the world outside their room ceased to exist. The upcoming dinner, the chatter of family and friends—all of it faded into the background. In this small, quiet space, it was just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s presence. And for Lexa, nothing else mattered.

The living room was a masterpiece of festive charm, every inch thoughtfully decorated to evoke the warmth of the holidays. The Christmas tree stood tall and proud in the corner, its branches heavy with golden baubles, hand-blown glass ornaments, and ribbons cascading like frozen streams of sunlight. Twinkling lights wrapped around it in an intricate dance, their soft glow bringing life to every ornament. At the top, the star, placed earlier by Aden with Clarke’s careful guidance, gleamed like a beacon. Beneath the tree, meticulously wrapped presents in shimmering red, gold, and silver paper were piled high, each adorned with oversized bows and tags bearing handwritten names.

The fireplace, its flames crackling cheerfully, was adorned with lush garlands of fresh pine interspersed with berries, tiny golden bells, and crimson ribbons. Stockings hung neatly from the mantel, each embroidered with names in elegant gold script. Strings of popcorn and cranberries bordered the bookshelves and framed family pictures, their homemade touch adding nostalgia to the sophisticated decor. The room smelled of cinnamon, pine, and cocoa, a trifecta of warmth that enveloped the family like an embrace.

Aden sat cross-legged on the plush rug near the fire, his "ugly sweater" the undeniable star of his outfit. It was a chaotic symphony of green, red, and blue, featuring dinosaurs mid-soccer match, complete with tiny felt Santa hats on each dinosaur. The sweater was paired with slim-fit navy pants and bright red socks that peeked out from his polished brown loafers. He held a glass of sparkling apple cider with dramatic flair, his pinky finger extended like an aristocrat. His expression was one of mock seriousness as he turned to Clarke. "Do you think Santa’s coming soon? Should we leave out the cookies now, or does that seem too eager?"

Clarke, perched gracefully on the armrest of Lexa’s chair, wore a deep green dress that matched the hue of fresh pine. The dress was simple yet stunning, its satin fabric catching the light as she moved. It had a high neckline and three-quarter-length sleeves, perfectly tailored to her figure, with a daring slit on one side that offered a glimpse of her knee-high black boots. She ruffled Aden’s hair fondly and replied, “I think you’ve got a little time, buddy. Santa’s got a tight schedule, but he’s always punctual.”

Aden nodded solemnly, as though Santa’s punctuality were a matter of utmost importance, while the rest of the family chuckled.

Raven, sprawled casually on the loveseat with Anya, was the epitome of understated elegance. She wore a floor-length navy-blue dress with a flowing skirt and a modest front neckline. The back of the dress was where the drama unfolded—a plunging cut that revealed the smooth curve of her back, framed by a delicate string of pearls draped across the top. Her hair was styled in loose waves, with a few strands tucked behind her ears to reveal small, diamond-stud earrings. Her black heels peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress, their straps glittering faintly.

“Unless Santa’s stuck somewhere trying to outdo Aden’s sweater,” she teased, her voice light as she gestured at his bold fashion choice. “Those dinosaurs are setting a pretty high bar.”

Aden puffed out his chest, his youthful face lighting up with pride. “You’re just jealous because your dress isn’t as cool as my sweater.”

Raven laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Touché, kid. Touché.”

Anya, sitting beside her with an effortless air of composure, was striking in her charcoal-gray suit. The blazer, tailored to perfection, had a contemporary cut with a low neckline and sharp lapels. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her toned forearms and a simple silver bracelet. She paired the suit with black leather loafers, their polished surface gleaming in the firelight, and a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to add a touch of intrigue. Her high cheekbones caught the golden glow of the room, giving her an almost regal appearance.

“Speaking of jealousy…” Anya began, her smirk deepening.

Raven tilted her head, her grin playful. “Oh, don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure everyone knows how stunning you look tonight. Cheekbones that could cut glass, arms that—”

“Arms,” Anya interrupted smoothly, “that are currently trying to enjoy a peaceful evening.” But her smirk betrayed her amusement as she rested a protective hand on Raven’s waist—a gesture subtle yet deeply intimate.

Across the room, Abby sat on the couch, her poise as graceful as ever. Her deep green dress, a sleeveless number with a chic bow accentuating her waist, was the perfect blend of elegance and festivity. The fabric shimmered faintly in the firelight, and her hair, styled in an elegant updo, revealed pearl earrings that matched the subtle detailing on her dress. Her black kitten heels, practical yet stylish, completed the look. Abby’s natural charisma was evident as she laughed at Aden’s, who was nearby, sipping his drink.

Raven caught sight of Abby and couldn’t help herself. “Dr. Griffin, are you sure you didn’t moonlight as a supermodel before this? Because you’re putting the rest of us to shame.”

Abby chuckled, her laugh rich and warm. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Raven.”

Anya, ever the quiet observer, let out a low, playful growl. “Everywhere except my bed.”

Raven patted Anya’s knee with mock sympathy, her grin widening. “Relax, love. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

The room erupted into laughter once again, the bonds of love, humor, and familiarity weaving the family together like the garlands on the tree. It was a scene of joyful chaos and deep connection, where every detail—be it the twinkling lights, the playful banter, or the tender glances—contributed to a night that would remain etched in their memories forever.

The evening was poised to become even more unforgettable as Indra entered the living room just before dinner. She was impeccable in a crisp white tailored suit, a perfect blend of professionalism and elegance. Subtle festive details on the lapels—a hint of red embroidery shaped like holly leaves—added a touch of holiday spirit without overwhelming her signature stoic style. Her robust yet undeniably feminine frame exuded an air of composed strength, her presence a serene contrast to the warm chaos of the room. Indra carried herself with a quiet authority that immediately drew attention, though she seemed content to let others shine around her.

“Lexa,” she greeted with her trademark reserved smile, setting two bottles of champagne on the side table. Her voice was steady, a grounding force amid the lively chatter. “Are you ready for the festivities?”

Lexa turned from her spot near the fireplace and nodded. “Always, but it’s not a real celebration until you’re here.” Her tone was light, but the sentiment was genuine.

Indra chuckled softly and pulled a small bottle of non-alcoholic champagne from her bag, crouching to hand it to Aden, who was sprawled on the rug near the tree. The young boy’s face lit up as he accepted it, his dinosaur-themed sweater shifting as he adjusted his seating.

“Thought you might appreciate having your own,” Indra said with a faintly teasing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, Indra!” Aden replied, his shy smile breaking into something brighter.

Lexa watched the interaction, her gaze thoughtful. “You know,” she said, leaning slightly against the armrest of a chair, “I never imagined you, of all people, indulging a kid this much. Especially after your first visits at the farm. You were... less than patient back then.”

Indra raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Impatient? I was practical. Children benefit from clear expectations.” Her tone softened as she glanced at Aden. “But I’ll admit, he’s managed to teach me a thing or two.”

Lexa smirked, pointing at Aden, who was now holding the bottle like a prized trophy. “Teach you? Look at him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

The group dissolved into laughter, the light-hearted banter flowing seamlessly into the festive atmosphere.

As if on cue, the sound of firm, deliberate steps echoed from the entryway. The door opened, and Gustus entered, his broad figure framed by the garlanded doorway. He was followed closely by his son, Lincoln, whose tall, muscular build bore a striking resemblance to his father’s. Lincoln had an intimidating presence at first glance—broad shoulders, a strong jawline—but his warm, kind eyes quickly dispelled any sense of aloofness.

“Lexa,” Gustus greeted warmly, pulling her into a bear hug. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Gustus,” Lexa replied with a bright smile. “It’s so good to see you both.”

She turned to the rest of the room, gesturing toward Lincoln. “Everyone, I want you to meet Lincoln, Gustus’s son. He’s studying to become a nurse at Polis U and is one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met.” Lexa always admire Lincoln dedication since losing his mother at a young age, he’s poured every ounce of himself into helping those with degenerative diseases. That kind of dedication—born out of loss, yet driven by hope—is truly inspiring. It’s a reminder of how pain can fuel purpose, and how someone can channel their grief into making the world a better place.

Lincoln offered a polite smile, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said, his voice steady and warm.

The group greeted him with nods and smiles, their approval clear. Lexa then turned toward Indra, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “And this,” she said, gesturing toward the woman in white, “is Indra, my manager and one of the most important people in my life. Indra, this is Gustus.”

Indra stepped forward, her handshake firm but composed. “Gustus,” she greeted simply, her voice as measured as her demeanor. Her dark eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of curiosity as they briefly studied him.

Gustus returned the handshake with a broad grin. “I remember meeting you briefly when Lexa first joined the Walkers. It was a short encounter, but you made quite the impression.” His tone was light, but the underlying admiration was unmistakable.

For the first time, Lexa noticed a faint blush creeping across Indra’s cheeks—an unexpected sight on someone so typically composed. There was an unfamiliar softness in her expression, a subtle shift that hinted at something unspoken.

“Well,” Indra began, clearing her throat, “I’ll admit, it’s good to see familiar faces during the holidays.”

Lexa, watching the exchange with mounting interest, couldn’t help but smirk. She leaned toward Clarke, who had quietly taken her place at Lexa’s side. “Is it just me,” Lexa whispered, “or is Indra actually blushing?”

Clarke’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she observed the interaction. “If that’s what I’m seeing, then this really might be the most magical Christmas yet.”

The night continued to unfold in its tapestry of warmth, humor, and connection. The fire crackled softly in the background, the ornaments on the tree catching the light as laughter echoed through the room. And while the champagne flowed and the conversation danced, Lexa couldn’t help but feel that something truly special was in the air.

Lexa stood at the head of the grand dining room table, an understated yet commanding presence in her sharp black trousers and soft cream blouse. The chandelier above cast a golden glow across her features, accentuating the intensity of her green eyes and the subtle curve of her jawline. Around her, the room buzzed with conversation and laughter, the holiday spirit evident in every corner.

The dining room itself was a masterpiece, exuding an air of timeless elegance. The walls were painted a deep forest green, adorned with vintage botanical prints and subtle gold accents. A towering Christmas tree stood near the entrance, its twinkling lights reflecting off delicate glass ornaments. The centerpiece of the room was the long, polished mahogany table, covered in a pristine white tablecloth. A garland of pine and eucalyptus, interspersed with crimson berries and golden ribbons, stretched across its length. The flickering light of the candles in crystal holders danced over the fine porcelain plates and intricately folded linen napkins at each seat.

Despite the table being unnecessarily large, every seat had been meticulously set, a detail that did not escape Raven. She leaned back in her chair with a grin, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail that contrasted with her perfectly winged eyeliner. “Lexa,” she teased, raising an eyebrow, “did you seriously think the entire village was coming to dinner?”

Anya, seated beside her, smirked, her sharp features softening slightly. “You do have a tendency to overprepare,” she remarked dryly, though her eyes held a glint of fondness.

Lexa let out a soft sigh, her expression remaining composed but betraying a hint of exasperation. “I simply want to ensure everyone is comfortable,” she replied, her tone even but with a slight edge of defensiveness.

Clarke, sitting to Lexa’s left, turned to her with a playful grin. Her wavy blonde hair framed her face, and her ice-blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “Comfortable? Lexa, I could host an art class with all these chairs.” She nudged Lexa gently with her elbow.

Lexa shot her a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Well, if the art class begins after dinner, you’ll thank me for the space.”

On the opposite side of the table, Abby clasped Lincoln’s arm as he helped her to her seat. Lincoln, tall and broad-shouldered, moved with a quiet strength, his deep brown eyes filled with warmth. Abby smiled up at him, her chestnut hair falling neatly around her shoulders. “You’re such a gentleman,” she said softly, clearly charmed by his manners.

Gustus, ever the silent protector, offered his arm to Indra as they approached the table. Indra’s stoic expression didn’t falter, but the subtle nod she gave him spoke volumes. “Thank you,” she murmured, her deep voice carrying an understated gratitude.

The lively chatter filled the room as Lexa began placing dishes in the center of the table—roasted vegetables, golden-brown potatoes, and a decadent casserole that filled the air with mouthwatering aromas.

As the conversations flowed, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, immediately silencing the room. Everyone exchanged curious glances.

Clarke turned to Lexa, tilting her head. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

Lexa paused, her lips curving into a small, secretive smile. “Abby,” she said smoothly, “I believe it’s your Christmas present.”

Abby blinked, confused, but stood up to answer the door. As she walked away, Raven quipped, “Amazon really needs to let its workers have a break. It’s Christmas, for crying out loud.”

The group chuckled, but their laughter was cut short by a gasp from Abby, followed by a joyful cry: “Marcus!”

Clarke’s eyes widened in shock as she turned toward the doorway. Moments later, Abby returned, her face alight with joy, accompanied by Marcus Kane. His salt-and-pepper hair and dignified demeanor exuded calm authority as he entered the room.

Behind him stepped a tall, lean young man with smooth, tan skin and thick, dark hair that fell in shaggy waves. His confident stride and easy smile immediately drew attention. “Clarke!” he called out, his voice warm and familiar.

Clarke shot up from her seat, her expression shifting to one of delighted surprise. “Bell! Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

The two embraced tightly, Clarke’s arms wrapping around his neck as his smile widened. Lexa stood frozen at the head of the table, her sharp eyes fixed on the scene. A subtle tension settled in her jaw, but she quickly composed herself.

Before she could dwell on it, a familiar voice called from the doorway. “Merry bitchmas!”

Raven and Clarke let out simultaneous squeals, abandoning their seats to rush toward the entrance. There stood Octavia Blake, tall and striking, her slim figure wrapped in a chic leather jacket over a festive emerald sweater. Her skin was glowing, her brunette hair falling in shiny waves past her shoulders, and her olive-green eyes sparkled with excitement.

The three women collided in a joyful group hug, their laughter filling the room. As Octavia pulled back, she glanced over the group, her gaze finally landing on Lexa.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed completely struck. “You… you’re Lexa Woods,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lexa inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable but softened by the hint of a smile. “I am.”

Octavia remained rooted in place, visibly flustered. Clarke, noticing Octavia’s awe, couldn’t help but grin before slipping back to Lexa’s side.

Octavia couldn’t believe it. Right here, standing so close she could almost reach out and touch her, was her childhood hero. Lexa Woods, the Commander herself, the woman Octavia had idolized since the first time she laid eyes on her, not just as an athlete but as a symbol of perseverance and strength. Sure, Lexa wasn’t that much older than Octavia—just a little older than Clarke, who had always been like a big sister to her—but the gap in life experience and the sheer aura of Lexa’s legendary status made her seem larger than life.

Octavia’s mind raced back to that first game she’d ever seen Lexa play. She had been 10 years old, a kid who found solace in watching television while chaos unfolded at home. That summer, all anyone talked about was the new star player for the Walkers, freshly signed from Arkadia. Lexa Woods was a rising talent, her name whispered with awe, her future described as limitless. Octavia had sat cross-legged on the worn carpet in front of the TV, her heart pounding with anticipation as she listened to the commentators narrate the story of this young prodigy who was about to change the game.

Then came the moment she would never forget. The Walkers were in possession, and the ball made its way to Lexa. Octavia remembered holding her breath as Lexa maneuvered it with an ease that defied her young age and relatively small frame. Her presence on the field was magnetic—calm, composed, yet fierce. With a quick feint, Lexa nutmegged an opponent, leaving the defender floundering in her wake. She darted through the defensive line with a blend of speed and precision, weaving past challenges like a dancer on grass. And then, with a strike so powerful it seemed to shake the entire stadium, Lexa sent the ball hurtling into the net.

Octavia’s jaw had dropped. The crowd erupted, their cheers thundering through the TV speakers. That was the first time she heard the nickname The Commander , and it felt so fitting that it echoed in her mind long after the game ended. At that moment, Octavia knew she had found her role model—not just as an athlete but as someone who radiated resilience and determination.

From that day forward, Lexa Woods became a constant presence in Octavia’s life, a beacon of hope even from afar. Every week, Octavia sat glued to the TV, watching Lexa shatter records and redefine what it meant to be great. The youngest player to debut for the national team. The most goals in a single season. Seven goals in one match—an achievement that seemed almost mythical. Trophy after trophy, championship after championship, Lexa carried herself with a strength that Octavia couldn’t help but admire.

It wasn’t just the victories or the accolades that drew Octavia in, though. It was Lexa’s ability to rise, time and again, from adversity. When Lexa returned stronger than ever after a devastating injury, Octavia took it as a sign that she, too, could overcome the challenges in her own life. If Lexa could face down defenders with unwavering confidence, Octavia could stand up for her mother and brother. If Lexa could embody the spirit of a warrior on the field, Octavia could find the strength to endure even the darkest times.

And now, here she was, face-to-face with the woman who had unknowingly shaped so much of her life. Octavia’s heart raced as she tried to process the surreal moment. It was like the  gift from Marcus Kane, the man she had come to call her father not out of obligation, but out of genuine affection. He had surprised her months ago with the most meaningful gift she’d ever received: an autographed jersey from Lexa Woods herself, with a personalized dedication. Seeing her own name written in Lexa’s handwriting had been overwhelming—proof that, in some small way, she existed in Lexa’s world.

That jersey was more than just a piece of fabric; it was a tangible connection to someone who had been a silent source of strength throughout her life. And now, standing here in Lexa’s presence, Octavia felt as though every hardship she’d faced had led to this moment.

Lexa, ever composed, greeted Octavia warmly, her expression soft yet slightly reserved—a far cry from the fierce competitor Octavia had idolized on the field. Octavia, however, was practically glowing, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. She stammered out a greeting, trying to keep her emotions in check, but it was clear she was overwhelmed.

Clarke watched the exchange from the side, a small smile playing on her lips. She knew how much this moment meant to Octavia, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for both her girlfriend and her honorary little sister. When the introduction was complete, Clarke stepped forward and gently took Lexa’s hand.

"Octavia," Clarke said with a teasing glint in her eye, "I think it’s time you officially meet my girlfriend, Lexa."

Octavia’s jaw dropped, her gaze darting between Clarke and Lexa as she processed what Clarke had just said. Her hero. The Commander . Clarke’s girlfriend . For a moment, Octavia was utterly speechless, her brain unable to reconcile the two worlds colliding.Yes, she has read all the rumours about the player’s new girlfriend but Lexa has been diligent into get the media as far from Clarke and Aden, they didn’t belong to that world and didn’t want to drag much attention to them. 

Lexa, usually so composed, felt her cheeks heat under Octavia’s stunned gaze. She glanced at Clarke, as if silently pleading for help, but Clarke merely smirked, clearly enjoying Lexa’s uncharacteristic fluster.

"You should see her when Aden tells people he’s lives under the same roof as The Commander," Clarke quipped, her smirk widening as Lexa’s blush deepened.

Lexa gave Clarke a look—a mix of fond exasperation and a silent promise of payback—but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Meanwhile, Octavia stood frozen, her heart bursting with joy and disbelief as she realized she had just met not only her hero but also a couple who embodied everything she admired: strength, love, and unwavering support.

Marcus Kane cleared his throat, a warm yet grounding sound that cut through the reverent silence in the room. Octavia blinked as if waking from a dream, reluctantly pulling her gaze from Lexa’s legendary figure. Marcus, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, his presence commanding attention with the kind of quiet authority that had once made him an effective leader.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said, his voice steady and welcoming. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces and the festive surroundings. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, their warm hues reflecting off shiny ornaments adorning the tree in the corner. “I hope we’re not intruding. Lexa was kind enough to invite us, and we couldn’t say no.”

Abby Griffin, standing near the tree with a glass of mulled wine in hand, tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. Her lips quirked in a mixture of surprise and delight. “Marcus,” she said, setting her drink down on a nearby table and crossing her arms loosely. “I thought you and the kids were spending Christmas in Polis. A family trip, right?”

Marcus smiled, his eyes softening as he glanced back at Octavia and Bellamy. “That was the original plan,” he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. “But Lexa reached out and said she had something special in mind.” He turned toward Lexa, his gaze steady and appreciative. “She didn’t want us to miss it.”

Lexa stood with her usual poise, though her expression softened at Marcus’s words. She inclined her head slightly, her voice low but filled with warmth as she said, “The family has expanded. It wouldn’t feel right to leave any of you out.”

Clarke’s heart swelled at those words. She stood quietly by Lexa’s side, her chest tightening in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting. The soft golden glow of the Christmas lights illuminated her girlfriend’s profile, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the subtle warmth in her green eyes. Clarke felt a surge of affection so powerful it almost overwhelmed her. Lexa had never been one for grand displays of emotion, but this gesture—inviting the Blakes and Marcus Kane to share the holiday with them—spoke volumes. It showed how much Lexa valued the people Clarke loved, even Bellamy, whose teasing banter barely veiled the lingering tension between them. Clarke realized with absolute certainty that she couldn’t love Lexa more than she did in this moment. But as she stood there, surrounded by laughter, warmth, and the soft hum of holiday music, she knew that her love for Lexa wasn’t static. It would grow, endlessly, folding into itself like waves on a shore. Lexa had woven herself into every corner of Clarke’s heart, and that love—steady, unyielding, infinite—would only deepen with time.

Octavia’s chest tightened at those words, her admiration for Lexa blooming into something deeper. Lexa, the untouchable legend of her childhood, was standing here in the glow of twinkling lights, weaving her and her brother into this growing tapestry of connection and care.

Before the moment could linger too long in sentiment, Aden, ever the light-hearted spark in any gathering, grinned mischievously from his spot near the fireplace. “And we needed backup,” he quipped, his grin widening as all eyes turned to him. “Mom and Lexa tried baking gingerbread men a few days ago, and… let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.”

Clarke groaned, hiding her face behind her hands as laughter rippled through the room. “Aden, do you want to spend your holiday on dish duty?”

Lexa exhaled softly, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Dish duty may be necessary,” she said, her voice calm but teasing, “especially after the chaos your mom caused in the kitchen.”

Clarke dropped her hands to glare at Lexa, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me? If I recall, someone turned it into a full-on competition when my gingerbread men looked better than hers.”

“That’s because you bribed the judges!” Lexa retorted, her composure slipping for a moment as a rare note of indignation crept into her voice.

“I did not bribe anyone!” Clarke shot back, laughing now. “Abby, Raven, and Anya voted fair and square. You’re just a sore loser.”

Lexa straightened, attempting to recover her usual stoic demeanor, but the faint flush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Bellamy, who had been leaning against the back of the chair, smirked. “Well, I guess that art teacher talent had to come in handy somewhere,” he said, his tone light but laced with admiration.

The room fell into a brief, charged silence as Lexa’s sharp green eyes flicked to Bellamy, narrowing slightly. For a moment, Clarke could have sworn she heard a low growl rumble in her girlfriend’s throat.

“I suppose talent comes in many forms,” Lexa said evenly, her tone measured but cool as she lifted her chin.

Abby clapped her hands lightly, breaking the tension. “Well, I, for one, am glad we have so many talented hands here to help with the festivities.”

Clarke leaned toward Lexa, her voice low as she whispered, “You know growling at him isn’t exactly subtle, right?”

Lexa’s lips tightened into a thin line, though the faint redness in her cheeks deepened. “I did not growl.”

Clarke snorted softly, her laughter spilling into the warm, festive air as the room settled back into casual conversation.

As the evening wore on, Lexa retreated briefly to the kitchen, emerging moments later with a golden turkey resting on a polished silver platter. The aroma of rosemary and cranberries wafted through the room, mingling with the scents of pine and cinnamon. Lexa carried the tray with her characteristic grace, though Clarke noticed the faint tension in her shoulders.

“Dinner is served,” Lexa announced, placing the platter in the center of the table.

The room shifted toward the table, the earlier moments of tension dissolving into shared laughter and warm conversation. Clarke, still smirking, leaned closer to Lexa as they settled into their seats.

“You know,” she murmured, her tone teasing, “I think Bellamy’s not the only one who’s impressed with my cookie skills.”

Lexa shot her a sidelong glance, her green eyes narrowing slightly. “Careful, Clarke,” she said softly, though her lips curved into a reluctant smile.

Clarke chuckled, brushing her fingers briefly against Lexa’s hand under the table. The warmth of the room, the shared love and laughter, made the moment feel complete.

As the plates were cleared away and the last of the dishes whisked into the kitchen, the living room buzzed with a cozy energy. Warm laughter and snippets of conversation drifted between clusters of people, the holiday spirit weaving through the room like a thread tying them all together. Clarke caught Lexa’s eye as they finished stacking the dessert plates on the counter.

“Should we?” Clarke asked softly, tilting her head toward the twinkling tree in the corner, its base surrounded by a colorful sea of neatly wrapped presents.

Lexa glanced at the tree, then back at Clarke, her lips curving into a soft smile. “It’s tradition, isn’t it?”

Clarke nodded, her chest blooming with affection. She could see the faint hint of apprehension in Lexa’s eyes—the leader in her always conscious of how others might perceive her actions, even in such an intimate setting.

Clarke reached for her hand, threading their fingers together in a gesture of quiet reassurance. “Come on. You’re the one who made this night so special. Let’s keep it going.”

Lexa exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing as Clarke tugged her gently toward the center of the room.

“Alright, everyone,” Clarke called, her voice warm and bright as she addressed the group. “Before we get too comfortable, I think it’s time for the main event.” She nodded toward the tree, and a ripple of excitement spread through the room.

Lexa’s gaze drifted to the tree, her thoughts momentarily slipping away to a Christmas years ago. She had been there, sitting on the floor by the fireplace in the Griffin household, watching as Jake made a grand show of declaring Clarke the official Santa of the night. It had been a playful rule he’d made up on the spot—that the smallest person in the room would distribute the presents. Lexa remembered Jake’s booming laughter and the way he ceremoniously placed a small red Santa hat on Clarke’s head. The memory was vivid, etched into her mind like a cherished photograph. It had been her first time spending Christmas with the Griffins, and she’d been struck by the warmth and love that filled their home.

That memory had resurfaced months ago, when she was cleaning out the barn to transform it into Clarke’s studio. While sorting through a dusty box of old holiday decorations, Lexa had found the same red Santa hat. She had paused, holding it carefully, the faint scent of cedar and time lingering in the fabric. The sight of it had brought a flood of emotions—grief for the man who had started the tradition, but also a deep sense of gratitude for the family she had become a part of. Lexa had tucked the hat away, determined to honor Jake’s tradition this year, not just for Clarke, but for everyone who cherished those memories.

Aden’s eyes lit up as he sprang from his spot by the fireplace. “Presents?” he asked, his grin contagious.

“Presents,” Clarke confirmed, laughing as he darted toward the tree.

The group began to gather around, some settling on the couches, others perching on the floor. Lexa, ever the observer, hung back for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the scene as if memorizing every detail. Clarke, noticing her pause, pulled her down beside her on the rug, where they sat shoulder to shoulder, close enough for their warmth to mingle.

Before Aden could dive fully into his role, Lexa stood, drawing the attention of the room with her calm authority. From her pocket, she withdrew the small red hat, her voice steady but tinged with emotion as she said, “There’s a tradition,” she said looking at Abby as if a way to ask for her permission to continue, making sure she’s not overstepping on the older’s woman right to keep the tradition; “One that I was lucky enough to witness. The smallest person in the room plays Santa. Tonight, that honor goes to Aden.”

She stepped forward and placed the hat gently on Aden’s head, her green eyes softening as she looked at Clarke, who sat frozen for a moment, her expression a mix of shock and overwhelming gratitude.

“Santa Aden, at your service!” Aden declared, his grin widening as he adjusted the hat, breaking the poignant moment with laughter that rippled through the room.

As Aden began distributing gifts with enthusiastic flair, the room filled with exclamations of surprise and gratitude. Clarke’s chest tightened as she watched Lexa nostalgically watching his interaction with everyone when giving their presents. 

Clarke leaned closer, her voice low as she whispered, “You’re in charge now, baby. Every moment, every tradition—it’s all yours to carry too.”

Lexa’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing Clarke’s briefly and kissing her passionately before turning her attention back to the festivities. The room buzzed with shared joy, the glow of the tree reflecting in everyone’s eyes as the presents passed from hand to hand, wrapping paper piling up like snowdrifts.

For Clarke, it wasn’t just the gifts or the laughter—it was the feeling of home, woven together by every person in the room. And as she glanced at Lexa, her heart full to bursting, she knew this was a moment she’d hold onto forever.

The living room glowed with the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, casting warm shadows that danced across the walls. Aden sat cross-legged amidst the chaos, the Santa hat slightly askew on his head, his cheeks flushed from excitement.

Abby rose from her chair, smoothing her sweater as the room quieted. Her expression was tender, her voice steady as she began to speak. “There’s one more part to this tradition,” she said, her words steeped in the weight of memory and love. “The head of the family gives our honorary Santa their gift.”

Aden, still clutching the crumpled remnants of the last gift, looked up with wide eyes. He watched as Abby approached, her hand reaching out to gently pluck the Santa hat from his head. “Thank you for your service, Santa Aden,” she said with a smile, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Lexa, seated on the couch beside Clarke, straightened slightly. Her brow furrowed, her thoughts a quiet swirl of uncertainty. Abby’s tone carried a significance Lexa couldn’t quite place, and her heart tightened as she anticipated the next moment. Surely Abby would place the hat on her own head, reclaiming her place as the family matriarch.

But Abby turned, meeting Lexa’s gaze with a soft, knowing smile that seemed to pierce right through her. “This is you, Lexa,” Abby said.

Time seemed to stop. Lexa blinked, her composure faltering as the weight of Abby’s words settled over her like the snowfall outside. “Me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Abby stepped closer, nodding gently. “Jake was the head of this family. He led with kindness and strength, just like you’ve done tonight. You’ve brought us together, made us feel safe, and given us a way to honor him. This is yours now.”

Lexa’s chest tightened, a rush of emotion swelling within her that she could barely contain. Her eyes flicked to Clarke, whose hand instinctively found hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. “I just…” Lexa began, her voice trembling. “I just wanted to make sure Jake was remembered. He was such a good guide… such a good soul. I wanted to honor that.” The word that got stuck in Lexa’s throat was “father” but she didn’t date to use it. 

Abby’s eyes glistened as she placed the red Santa hat carefully on Lexa’s head. “And you did,” she said, pulling Lexa into a warm embrace. Lexa closed her eyes, the weight of Abby’s words and the unexpected gesture settling into her heart. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly seen, her efforts to carry Jake’s legacy acknowledged in the most profound way.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the quiet moment filled with something almost sacred. Clarke leaned into Lexa, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’d be so proud of you,” she whispered.

“Go on, open it, Santa,” Clarke teased, her smile wide and encouraging.

Aden’s excitement was palpable as he tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a thick, beautifully illustrated encyclopedia about dinosaurs. He gasped, holding the book reverently before his eyes caught the second item—a meticulously crafted miniature model of a diplodocus skeleton.

His jaw dropped, the pure joy on his face illuminating the room. “This is amazing!” he exclaimed, lifting the model with careful hands. “The diplodocus is my favorite!”

Clarke exchanged a knowing look with Lexa, who nodded, her expression soft with pride. “We thought you’d like it,” Lexa said, her voice warm.

Aden immediately began flipping through the pages of the encyclopedia, his excitement bubbling over as he shared fun facts about his favorite dinosaur. The room filled with his chatter, his enthusiasm infectious as the family gathered closer, leaning into the warmth of the evening.

This was the heart of Christmas, Lexa thought—connection, remembrance, and love, all wrapped in the simplest, most beautiful moments.

The sound of a stifled yawn broke the moment, pulling everyone’s attention to Aden, who was fighting valiantly to keep his eyes open. Clarke laughed softly, reaching over to tousle his hair. “Alright, little one. Time to get you to bed so real Santa can come.”

Aden shook his head stubbornly, his voice thick with sleep. “But I’m Santa,” he mumbled, clutching the edge of his chair as if to root himself there.

Lexa chuckled, her voice warm and gentle. “You were Santa,” she said, rising from her seat. “Now it’s time to rest and wait to the real Santa visiting us. Let’s go.”

Aden made a show of protesting, dragging his feet as Lexa scooped him up, his sleepy mumbles blending with laughter as they made their way toward the stairs.

With Aden finally tucked away for the night, the living room felt quieter, but the warmth of the evening lingered in the air. The adults were sprawled comfortably across couches and armchairs, the faint hum of soft holiday music playing in the background. Clarke sat next to Lexa, her hand loosely interlaced with Lexa’s, their fingers occasionally brushing as if to reassure each other of their presence.

Octavia leaned forward on her seat, her dark eyes lively as she chatted with Lincoln, her enthusiasm spilling over like champagne in an overfilled glass. She was midway through recounting a particularly animated story about her first semester studying Political Science at Polis University. Lincoln listened intently, his gaze steady and warm, a quiet smile playing at his lips.

“PoliSci, huh?” Lincoln asked, his deep voice resonant. “That’s impressive. I’m looking to transfer there next year for Pre-Med.”

“Really?” Octavia’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing! The campus is beautiful, isn’t it? I feel like every time I walk into that library, I’m stepping into a different world.”

Lincoln chuckled. “It’s a great place. And it sounds like you’ve already found your rhythm there.”

Bellamy, sitting across from them, let out a pointed cough. “Well, lucky for you both, I’m already there too. First-year Law. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on this one,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Octavia.

Octavia rolled her eyes, her annoyance laced with affection. “I don’t need a babysitter, Bell. You’re not my dad.”

“No, but I can still make sure no one messes with my little sister,” Bellamy shot back, though the teasing grin on his face softened the edge of his words. 

The sincerity in Bellamy’s voice hung in the air for a moment, and even Octavia didn’t push back. Instead, she gave him a small, understanding smile.

“Well,” she said, breaking the tension, “since you’re so eager to keep an eye on me, let’s shift the attention to someone else.”

She stood up suddenly, walking over to a small pile of gifts that hadn’t yet been opened. With a mischievous grin, she picked up a neatly wrapped package and handed it to Clarke. “This one’s for you.”

“For me?” Clarke blinked in surprise, looking between Octavia and Bellamy. “I thought I’d already opened mine.”

“Not this one,” Octavia said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “Go on, open it.”

Clarke hesitated, her fingers brushing over the smooth wrapping paper. Lexa’s gaze was fixed on her, her brow slightly furrowed as though trying to decipher the moment. With a deep breath, Clarke carefully tore the paper away, revealing a folded jacket. As she unfolded it, the distinctive Polis University logo came into view, embroidered proudly on the chest.

The room fell silent.

Clarke’s breath caught as the weight of the gift—and its implication—settled on her. “How…?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Octavia grinned. “Bellamy and I might have snooped a little and found out about your acceptance letter.”

“You…what?” Clarke’s eyes darted to Lexa, whose expression was unreadable, her emerald eyes fixed on the jacket. The room seemed to hold its collective breath, all attention on Lexa.

Slowly, a smile broke across Lexa’s face, soft and full of pride. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”  she murmured, her voice full of quiet reverence. 

Clarke’s lips parted, her emotions a swirling mix of joy, uncertainty, and overwhelming love for the woman beside her. But before she could say anything, her mind drifted to the moment two days prior, the day she had finally told Lexa the truth.

The spa Lexa had chosen was the epitome of luxury and tranquility, a hidden gem nestled on the outskirts of TonDC. Surrounded by towering frosted pine trees and pristine snow that shimmered like diamonds in the soft winter sunlight, the building looked like something out of a dream. Inside, the warmth enveloped them instantly, and the air was rich with the soothing fragrances of lavender and eucalyptus. Every detail—from the flickering candlelight to the plush carpets—seemed designed to lull the soul into peace, but Clarke’s heart was anything but calm.

She fidgeted in the lobby, her fingers twisting the strap of her bag, her blue eyes darting around the space as though searching for an escape. Lexa stood at the front desk, calm and composed as she signed them in, her signature precision extending even to this simple task. When she turned to look at Clarke, a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. It was the kind of smile that always softened Clarke’s heart, though today it only added to the ache.

“You’ve been tense for weeks,” Lexa said gently as they were led to their private suite. “Let me take care of you, Clarke. You deserve this.”

Clarke nodded mutely, unable to summon words. How could she? The weight of her secret felt unbearable, and every step closer to the suite felt like a step closer to the moment she feared.

The suite itself was breathtaking. Heated massage tables sat in the center, their surfaces covered with soft, luxurious linens. A bottle of chilled champagne rested on a nearby table, alongside two delicate flutes. The room was bathed in soft amber light, the glow creating a cocoon of intimacy. Clarke could see how much thought Lexa had put into this, how deeply she cared. And that only made everything harder.

For the first half-hour, the silence between them was only broken by the soothing music playing softly in the background and the occasional murmur of the masseurs. Lexa seemed to relax almost instantly, her body sinking into the table as though she’d been waiting for this reprieve. Clarke, however, couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Every knead of her shoulders seemed to push the knot in her chest tighter, every gentle touch a reminder of what she was about to say.

When the masseurs finally left them alone to enjoy the room, Clarke sat up abruptly, her hands gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Lexa noticed immediately, her serene expression giving way to concern as she straightened and moved to Clarke’s side.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was soft, but the worry in it was unmistakable. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Clarke’s voice wavered, and she looked down at her hands, unable to meet Lexa’s gaze. “I need to tell you something.”

Lexa reached out, her hand warm and steady as it rested over Clarke’s. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here.”

Clarke took a deep, shuddering breath, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Lexa could hear it. “I got accepted to Polis U,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “For an art scholarship. I applied last year, before… before everything changed, and I didn’t think I’d get in. But now I have, and—” Her voice cracked, and she forced herself to look up, her blue eyes swimming with tears. “Lexa, if I go, it means leaving Arkadia. Leaving you. Taking Aden away from everything he knows. From you.”

Lexa blinked, the words sinking in, and Clarke saw the flicker of surprise in her expression before it softened into something infinitely tender. “Clarke,” she said, her tone calm but resolute, “this is amazing news. You should be proud of yourself.”

“No, it’s not!” Clarke burst out, her voice trembling with anguish. “How can it be when it means tearing everything apart? I can’t do this, Lexa. I can’t leave you. I can’t take Aden away from you. He loves you so much, and so do I. But if I stay, I’ll be giving up this chance. And if I go… I feel like I’m breaking us.” Her tears spilled over, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back sobs.

Lexa didn’t hesitate. She closed the space between them, pulling Clarke into her arms and holding her tightly. “Clarke,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm, “you’re not breaking us. You could never break us.”

“But how can we make this work?” Clarke whispered against her shoulder, her voice raw with despair. “How can I leave and still keep us together?”

Lexa pulled back just enough to cup Clarke’s face in her hands, her green eyes blazing with emotion. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice firm but overflowing with love. “Do you remember when I wanted to play professional football? When I was scared to leave Arkadia and you were the first one to cheer for me? You told me I couldn’t let fear stop me from chasing my dreams, and you were right. You were my rock, Clarke. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. And now, it’s my turn to do that for you.”

Clarke’s breath hitched, her heart aching at the memory. “But Aden—”

“I love Aden,” Lexa interrupted, her voice soft but unwavering. “I love him, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure he’s happy and comfortable, no matter where you are. We’ll visit each other as often as we can. And your mom… she’s strong, Clarke. She’ll be okay. You’re not abandoning anyone. You’re showing Aden and everyone else what it means to follow your heart.”

Clarke stared at her, overwhelmed by the depth of Lexa’s love and the quiet strength she exuded. “You’d really wait for me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Lexa smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Clarke’s face. “Clarke, you’re the love of my life. There’s no one else I’d rather be with, no matter how far apart we are. I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes. Because what we have is worth it. You’re worth it.”

The sincerity in her words broke something open in Clarke, and she let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

“You deserve everything, Clarke Griffin,” Lexa replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m going to make sure you have it.”

Lexa kissed Clarke’s forehead, then her lips, a kiss so full of love it left Clarke breathless. “Now,” Lexa said with a soft smile, “why don’t we enjoy the rest of the day? Champagne, massages, and you finally letting me spoil you like you deserve.”

Clarke laughed despite herself, the tension in her chest easing just a little. For the first time that day, she felt like she could breathe.

Clarke clung to her, the tension in her body finally beginning to ebb. But as much as Lexa’s words comforted her, the ache in her chest remained. She pulled back, looking up at Lexa with tear-filled eyes. “Just take me back home,” she said, her voice small but resolute.

Lexa’s arms tightened around her, and she kissed her temple softly. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go home.”

Back in the living room, the warmth of the fireplace painted the space in flickering golds and oranges. Clarke blinked, her mind snapping back to the present from the weighty emotions she had been wading through. The room seemed to buzz faintly with anticipation, but all Clarke could focus on was the reassuring warmth of Lexa’s hand on her shoulder. That touch, so steady and grounding, was her lifeline amidst the swirling storm of emotions inside her. Lexa’s serene expression didn’t waver, her eyes holding the silent promise Clarke had come to rely on: We’ll figure this out. I’m here.

The silence stretched just a moment too long, and then Abby’s voice, thick with emotion, broke it. “You’re taking the scholarship?” she asked, her tone brimming with equal parts pride and disbelief.

Clarke hesitated, the uncertainty still gnawing at the edges of her resolve. Her eyes darted to her mother, and then to Lexa, whose calm nod gave Clarke the courage she so desperately needed. That gentle squeeze of Lexa’s hand was more than just encouragement—it was a declaration of unwavering support.

“Yes,” Clarke said at last, her voice quieter than she intended but resolute all the same. “I’m going to Polis U.”

The declaration seemed to release the tension in the room all at once. Cheers erupted, and the next thing Clarke knew, Abby had her in a tight embrace. The hug felt like both an anchor and a launch pad, grounding Clarke while propelling her forward into the unknown. “I’m so proud of you,” Abby whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’re going to do incredible things, Clarke. I know it.”

The words sent a pang through Clarke’s chest—a mixture of gratitude and guilt. She hated the idea of leaving her mother, of shifting the delicate balance they had created in Arkadia, but she also knew this opportunity was too significant to pass up. Before she could fully process it, another voice cut through the emotional haze.

“Well, damn,” Raven said, her trademark smirk creeping across her face. “Guess now’s as good a time as any to spill my news, too.”

Clarke turned, blinking at her best friend in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Raven leaned against the arm of the couch, a picture of feigned nonchalance, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her excitement. “Polis U, baby. Engineering program. Full ride.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. “Raven!” she shouted, her voice breaking into a laugh as she surged forward to throw her arms around her best friend. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Raven shrugged, though her grin widened. “Wanted to let you have your big moment first. But yeah, looks like we’re doing this. You, me, Octavia—just like we talked about last year.”

Octavia, standing by the fireplace, folded her arms with a smirk. “See? I told you it was happening. Arkadia might miss us, but Polis won’t know what hit it.”

Bellamy, sitting stiffly in the armchair, groaned. “Great. Three of you together in the same city? Sounds like trouble.”

“Relax, big brother,” Octavia shot back, rolling her eyes. “We’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, might need a hobby to distract you from worrying about us 24/7.”

The banter sent laughter rippling through the room, but Clarke found her gaze drawn to Lexa. Lexa stood quietly by her side, her green eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and love. In that moment, Clarke knew that Lexa’s love for her ran deeper than she had ever dared to believe.

On the other side of the room, Raven’s words had sparked something quieter but no less profound. Anya, leaning against the far wall, hadn’t said a word, but her usually stoic face softened. Her sharp eyes lingered on Raven, holding an unspoken pride that made the air between them hum with significance. Raven caught the look, her smirk softening into something gentler as she raised her glass in a silent acknowledgment of her girlfriend’s pride.

Clarke’s chest tightened. The bonds in this room—between friends, lovers, and family—were unbreakable. Yet the idea of leaving it, even for something as important as this scholarship, felt like tearing herself apart. Her gaze flitted to Abby, to Lexa, to Raven and Octavia, and the weight of everything she was leaving behind pressed down on her like a physical burden.

Lexa seemed to sense her spiraling thoughts. She stepped closer, her presence grounding Clarke in the way only Lexa could. “Hey,” she murmured softly, so only Clarke could hear. Her thumb brushed away a tear slipping down Clarke’s cheek. “You’re not leaving anyone behind. We’re coming with you in every way that matters.We’re a team, Clarke. We’ve always been a team.”

A shaky laugh bubbled up from Clarke, even as more tears spilled over. “How are you always this perfect?”

“I’m not,” Lexa replied, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “But loving you? That’s the one thing I’ll always get right.”

Clarke leaned into Lexa, pressing her forehead against hers, and for a moment, the world felt still. The future was uncertain, and the challenges ahead loomed large, but in Lexa’s arms, Clarke felt a flicker of hope strong enough to keep going.

“Well,” Raven called, breaking the moment as she raised her glass high. “If we’re all done crying, can we toast now? To Polis U, to Clarke, and to me being an engineering badass, as usual.”

The room erupted into laughter, glasses clinking together as everyone joined the impromptu celebration. Clarke joined in, her heart full but still heavy. As the conversation bubbled around her, she leaned into Lexa’s side, letting herself bask in the love and warmth of the moment.

—--

Lexa's most recent memory of Christmas is one she will cherish forever.

The morning began in a haze of gentle murmurs and the muted rustle of blankets. The first golden light of dawn seeped into the living room, casting a warm glow on the cozy chaos left behind from the night before. Tinsel hung slightly askew, stray ribbons curled on the floor, and the scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of cinnamon from yesterday’s baking. It was Aden’s delighted shriek that broke the stillness, sending a ripple of excitement through the house.

“Santa came! Santa came!” Aden’s small feet pattered across the wooden floors, his voice ringing with uncontainable joy. He darted into the living room, his gaze fixed on the enormous box that had been placed beneath the tree, wrapped in shimmering gold paper with a vibrant red bow.

By the time the rest of the family gathered, rubbing sleep from their eyes and clutching cups of coffee, Aden was already tearing into the wrapping paper with Clarke’s help. Each rip of the paper revealed more of the sleek black finish, and when the miniature version of Lexa’s Lamborghini Aventador finally emerged, Aden let out a breathless gasp.

“It’s Nightblood ! Just like yours!” he exclaimed, running his tiny hands over the matte surface with reverence. His joy was infectious, his wide-eyed wonder pulling laughter and smiles from everyone in the room.

Lexa crouched down beside him, her heart swelling as he threw his arms around her neck. “Santa is the best!! This is the best gift ever!”

Clarke stood nearby, arms crossed, an eyebrow arched in mock reproach. “A Lamborghini, Lexa? Really?”

Lexa shrugged sheepishly, ruffling Aden’s hair. “It’s educational... in a way?”

Clarke sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “Fine. But when Raven keeps calling you Lextra again, you’re dealing with it.”

The rest of the morning unfolded like a series of perfectly stitched memories, each one filled with the kind of joy Lexa had only recently learned to embrace. Anya, usually reserved and stoic, opened a sleek new training kit, complete with a certificate for professional goalkeeper sessions. It wasn’t about trying on going pro again but about rekindling a piece of herself she’d long thought lost.

Raven, perched on the couch with her legs draped over Anya’s lap, let out a loud cheer. “Santa’s keeping my girlfriend hot! Best Christmas gift ever !” she declared, her grin as wide as the sun. Anya rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the flicker of pride in her expression.

Raven’s own gift—a state-of-the-art laptop—had her practically vibrating with excitement. She ran her hands over the sleek device like it was a treasure. “This baby is going to get me through college in style,” she announced.

Anya smirked, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Two gifts then: a hot girlfriend and a hot laptop.”

Indra and Gustus, ever practical, unwrapped matching leather watches and a pair of cufflinks. Though understated, the gifts suited them perfectly. Their smiles were subtle, but the unspoken warmth in their shared glance said everything. Getting to know each other, again and better, was the best Christmas present that year. 

Octavia tore into her present with unbridled enthusiasm, revealing yet another Lexa Woods jersey. “You can never have too many!” she declared before pulling it over her head. But her true prize was her phone, now filled with candid photos of Lexa from this holiday. “Dorm decorations sorted,” she said with a mischievous grin, showing Clarke a selfie she had snuck while Lexa wasn’t looking.

Bellamy and Kane unwrapped luxury leather briefcases. While Lexa and Bellamy still tread carefully around each other, Clarke could see the gratitude in Bellamy’s eyes and the small, tentative opening Lexa offered in return. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress, and Clarke’s heart swelled with hope.

When Abby opened her gift, the room fell into a reverent silence. Inside was a set of documents officially announcing the creation of the Jake Griffin Clinic, a pioneering facility for Arkadia. Abby’s hands trembled as she held the papers, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“He would’ve loved this,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

As Lexa stood watching, a strange sensation settled in her chest. This wasn’t just a gift for Abby. It was a tribute to a man whose legacy reached far beyond his family, whose love for this town now echoed in the lives it would continue to touch. Lexa could almost feel Jake Griffin’s presence in the room, as if his steady hand rested on her shoulder, silently passing the baton.

She looked around at the faces illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. These were her people now. Aden’s laughter, Clarke’s warmth, Anya silent caring, Raven’s irreverent humor, Abby’s resilience—they were threads woven into the fabric of her life. She felt a deep sense of purpose, a quiet vow settling in her heart. She would take care of them, just as Jake would have.

Clarke’s gift to Lexa came last. The small box she handed over felt heavy with meaning. Lexa opened it carefully, revealing a gold necklace with interlocking gears. Each tooth bore a letter, representing the people who had become her family.

“Every person here is part of your team now,” Clarke said softly. “Every gear, every letter—they’re here to keep you moving forward. And if you ever feel alone, you can add new ones.”

Lexa’s throat tightened as she looked down at the necklace. “Clarke,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “I don’t have the words…”

Clarke smiled, her hand brushing Lexa’s cheek. “You don’t need to say anything. Just know that we’re all here for you. Always.”

As the morning wound down, Lexa sat quietly, watching the family laugh and share stories. Aden zoomed his miniature car around the room, his joy filling every corner of the house. Abby and Clarke huddled together, sharing a private smile. Raven and Anya teased each other mercilessly, their love evident in every playful jab.

Lexa's most recent memory of Christmas is this one.

The one where the house was filled with laughter and light. The one where she felt Jake Griffin’s legacy pass through her, urging her to care for these people who had become her family. The one where Clarke’s gift reminded her that she would never be alone again.

Christmas wasn’t just a holiday anymore. It was a promise. A reminder that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would endure them—together. Lexa sat in the cozy room, bathed in the soft, golden light of the Christmas tree, the warmth of the season wrapping around her like a comfort. Laughter echoed in the background, filling the space with a sense of joy and belonging that she hadn’t known was possible before.

Her heart was full, overflowing with love and peace. She looked around the room, at the people who had become her family, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. This was home.

But as much as she reveled in the present moment, there was a quiet thought in the back of her mind—Clarke’s upcoming departure for Polis. The ache of it was there, a soft tug on her heart, but it didn’t overwhelm her. No, Lexa wasn’t afraid. She knew, with absolute certainty, that no matter the distance or the challenges they would face, their future belonged to them—together.

She could feel it deep in her bones, that this love, this connection, was meant to be. No matter what came next, no matter the obstacles, she would make it work. Lexa had faced storms before, but none as strong as the bond she shared with Clarke. There was no fear in her heart—only hope, only certainty.

Even now, she could already picture it—the two of them, plus Aden, side by side, building a future, no matter where life took them. The thought made her smile softly to herself. She didn’t need to know all the answers right now. She didn’t need the future to be clear, because she already knew they would make it work. She believed in them, in their love, with every fiber of her being.

And as the Christmas day light began to fade, Lexa looked around at the quiet joy in their little home. Clarke’s laugh filled the room, Aden’s grin lit up the space, and Lexa’s heart swelled. She realized that this—her love for Clarke, for Aden, for the family they had created—was her greatest gift of all. This Christmas, she didn’t need anything else. This love, this moment, was the best present she could have ever imagined. It was everything.