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You feel things for her you shouldn’t be feeling.
Stirrings.
She does something to you.
Clarke of the Sky People.
She wasn’t afraid of you.
She walked into your tent, back rigid. Chin out.
Every bit of the leader you’d heard rumors about, murmured through camp.
She met your blunt statement with her own.
She told you she could help.
She offered you something you’d not been able to accomplish on your own.
She brought a man back from the dead.
From beyond the dead.
You feel a respect for her you didn’t know was possible.
You offer her a truce. But it won’t come without a cost.
She comes to you again with another offer.
Strong and sure.
You won’t hear it. Your people need their vengeance.
Blood must have blood.
She fights you, but you hold firm
She killed her love.
She offered to die for him instead but then she killed him.
You see her heart rip apart the same way yours did.
You see the haunting in her eyes.
You tell her about Costia.
About what you did to her, just by loving her.
You don’t know why. The words fall from you.
Ooze.
You wanted to comfort her.
It comes from that same place. That same stirring.
As if the ancient soul inside of you shakes and rattles.
Hums between your ribcage.
A warning.
Or a sign.
You tell her your secret.
You tell her what feelings are. Weakness.
Love is weakness.
She doesn’t believe you.
You say it outloud for her. But maybe you say it outloud for you, too.
When Gustus falls beside you sick with poison you feel betrayal bloom in your chest.
Hot and alive.
Heavy.
Her eyes, her eyes are confused.
You don’t listen this time.
You leave without looking back.
She yells at you to stop your punishment.
Commands you.
You listen to her, let her through, let her speak when you know you shouldn’t.
Your mind warring with some other part of you.
You let her explain how it wasn’t her people who poisoned you.
You watch her drink from the bottle.
Holding yourself back from stopping her. From knocking it away.
She doesn’t convulse.
You believe her.
You knew somewhere that what she said was true.
But now you have proof.
No, your people have proof.
And your heart breaks for Gustus.
The person you trusted most in this world.
Her eyes are on you. Heavy.
She’s watching your trust break right in front of you.
You feel it when your sword slices through him.
You would have felt it more if it was her.
She never backs down from you.
Others listen. Stop speaking when you command them to.
Not Clarke.
She challenges you.
Fights back.
Makes you hear what she’s saying.
She sees you without your warpaint at the council.
She has ideas that could work.
That no one has had before.
You let her argue with Quint.
Get her points out.
You want to hear all sides.
You want to hear what she has to say.
Your eyes long to find hers every chance they get.
You watch her when you shouldn’t.
When you need to be focused.
That shake, that stirring.
Louder and louder.
Like the whispers of the leader of the skaikru floated through your camp.
Louder and louder.
But you can’t open up your heart to her.
Not to this girl.
She’s…
She could be everything.
You see the way Quint looks at her as she leaves.
You make it to her just in time.
You let her have the kill, and watch as she hesitates.
Hesitates long enough for the monster to come, to chase you.
Again she disobeys your commands.
Doesn’t listen to you when others would.
This time it saves your life.
She mocks you.
Spits your words back at you with fire.
She’s different. So different.
Not the kind of warrior you’re used to.
And that stirring.
That old soul inside of you stirs and stirs.
And you tell her about your old soul.
How it chose you.
When you’re safe in the woods keeping watch you let yourself look at her.
Really look.
Her hair, so golden.
Her face, so calm and soft in sleep.
And you let yourself feel.
You don’t lock them away.
In this moment, you let them out.
Maybe, maybe a heart isn’t a weakness.
You tell her that when she wakes with a start.
You tell her that she’s safe.
Your chest rattles.
Perhaps you’re the one who’s not.
She has another plan.
Her mind faster than even the best leaders.
It all makes sense. You don’t know why you didn’t see it before.
And you hope.
Clarke kom skaikru has given you hope.
She comes to you with steel in her eyes.
She’s quiet.
Something is wrong.
You study her face.
You understand the seriousness of her request.
A missile.
It will decimate the village.
You show her the true meaning of wartime.
You make her cover her head and sneak her into the woods.
A fear you haven’t known in many moons makes you yell.
Call out to her.
Try to keep her safe.
She turns with more fire in her eyes.
You see the way it’s hardened her.
You said the missile would inspire the armies.
It’s inspired her too.
Inspired her to be reckless.
Unfocused.
She needs to be focused.
You need her focused.
Need.
You feel that stirring again.
You haven’t needed anything from anyone in so very long.
You know the pain she’s feeling after she shoots the sniper.
It’s one you’re familiar with.
One you don’t want for her.
You feel it.
Belief that you can win this war.
Win the war against the mountain.
Together.
She studies and studies the maps in your tent.
You allow her to see more and more of you.
Less of Heda.
This is where you relax.
This is where your armor comes off.
The shaking inside of you louder and louder.
When she speaks of Bellamy your stomach hardens.
The way she speaks of him.
You turn and find her eyes
Another speech about war.
About leading.
Another speech to distract.
Refocus.
Remind yourself that feelings, feelings aren’t for you.
Not for the Commander.
She takes down your soldier.
She disrespects you in front of your people.
You dismiss him and she comes at you again.
She yells.
Spit and fire.
Disbelief.
Disappointment.
No one has ever spoken to you like this.
It’s…
You back away from her wrath.
Her ire.
Her truth.
She’s cutting right through you with truth.
Dressing you down.
Right to the very part of you you hide from everyone.
It’s all you can do to tell her to get out.
That stirring.
That stirring is alive and humming in your chest.
You say the words.
You hear yourself say them.
Admit them to her as much as to yourself.
“Not everyone. Not you.”
You watch her eyes change as she hears it.
Her body language.
You’ve thrown her off guard now.
You look at her.
Open and wanting.
You don’t breathe until she’s gone. Out of the tent.
It’s big and full.
The whispers in your heart louder and louder.
It makes sense that this is the one who woke your heart.
This is the girl who fell from the sky.
This is the girl who can bring men back from the dead.
This is the girl who can do impossible things.
She makes you feel things you cannot feel.
Should not feel.
Cannot help.
You send for her.
She comes into your tent quietly.
You tell her the truth.
And you know.
Life should be about more than surviving.
And you know.
And you reach out and touch your lips to hers.
It is everything.
And she’s kissing you back.
So soft.
So gentle.
As if you’re both afraid of the bigness you feel in the room.
And she pulls away.
She shies away with a promise in her eyes.
On her lips.
And you know. You feel it.
When you both see the signal, you feel it.
The faith she so blindly holds in her people.
Everything you felt for her in that tent gets buried away.
Now, now is war.
She stands at your side as you address your field commanders.
A partner.
A partner in war.
Someone who could stand strong beside you.
Understand the Heda.
Understand you.
She stands beside you again.
Ready for battle.
Impatient for the end.
You feel her next to you.
You feel everything.
Hope.
Stirring and stirring.
Louder and louder.
“Well, what do you want?”
She doesn’t know.
The capitol.
You ask her to come with you.
She looks at you when it’s time. Waits for your hand to join hers on the button.
You share a look.
And then you push.
Together.
But nothing happens.
And then the shooters.
You know what you must do.
You must leave her side.
The Commander taking over once again.
You leave Lincoln with her.
She must be protected.
When they see you. When they present you their offer your heart falls.
You feel a warring between your heart and your head.
But your heart was never in charge.
And the girl who got under your skin.
The girl who fell from the sky.
The girl who your soul shakes inside you for.
You know that girl will never look at you the same again.
Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.
This is what you’re sacrificing for your people.
You loved once.
You loved once and it nearly killed you.
It killed her.
You must do right by your people.
Her face, her face when you come back down the mountain.
Her face will be burned into your memory forever.
It hardens again.
The same steel you saw on her the first time you laid eyes on her.
The first time you saw Clarke kom Skaikru.
Your Commander mask stays on. You hope she’ll understand someday.
That this is what you had to do.
This is war.
You hold her eyes and for a second, for a brief second you hope she sees.
The pain in her eyes, you know you put it there.
It cannot be undone.
But you whisper.
Quietly.
The whispers echoing in your head.
In your heart.
“May we meet again.”
And you leave that promise there for her.
Like her “Not yet.”
Open and honest.
And with every step you take away, you feel that ache.
Hollowed and dull.
Seep into you.
The ache you felt after Costia.
The ache you told yourself you’d never feel again.
Back.
Just as heavy as before.
And maybe you haven’t learned anything at all.