Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lexa opened the door to the dining room expecting to find Clarke waiting for her. She was late. Before she left for the day, she had promised Clarke she would be on time. And she would have, but the Ambassador from Sangedakru had many things to discuss. Things that were ultimately a waste of Heda’s time, but Lexa understood that any problem that mattered to a member of her alliance was a problem for her if she wanted to keep the respect of her ambassadors and, by extension, the peace she had achieved.

For 3 years her Ambassadors had not come to her with conflict between the 13 clans. When she reflected on the journey towards peace, she gave credit to her love for Clarke. She had pledged to treat Skaikru as her people, and once she had killed Queen Nia and King Roan assumed the throne, Clarke worked hard to convince Roan that the two clans could work together. Skaikru could provide medicine and technology, Azgeda could teach the sky people how to survive the winter and how to fight. Once they were friends, the other clans fell in line behind the flame, a testament to their shared vision.

Lexa was surprised when she noticed that Clarke was not in the room. Clarke had recently opened what she called a clinic. It was designed so that Clarke and Jackson could train their healers in Skaikru medicine. Grounders came from every clan to receive treatment. It was something that em haiplana (her queen) was proud of, and Lexa was proud of her for it. There had been a few times when Clarke had been kept in the clinic while dealing with what she called viruses. But it had been a few weeks since there had been any outbreaks and Lexa was usually notified by her Ambassadors when a new outbreak started making its way through the villages.

Lexa sat down at the table and contemplated how long she should wait before she headed down to the clinic. Since Clarke had moved to Polis after the defeat of A.L.I.E., the two had made it a point to always eat dinner together. The days were long and often chaotic, but dinner was sacred. The door finally opened, and her houmon (spouse) stepped across the threshold. Lexa smiled as she rose to meet her.

“Hey.” Clarke whispered before kissing Lexa soundly catching the other woman slightly off guard.

“Hi.” Lexa responded in between more passionate kisses. Clarke finally pulled her into a fierce hug; she was holding on tight.

“Bad day?” Lexa asked. Clarke smiled before taking her hand.

“No.” Clarke said while shaking her head, “Not exactly anyway”

Lexa tilted her head, silently asking what she meant by that. Clarke just continued to smile before finally asking, “Take a walk with me?”

“Where are we going?” Lexa asked.

“To the clinic.”

“Ok.” Lexa said, smiling back at Clarke as she took her hand to lead her out of the room.

As they exited, two guards fell in line behind Heda and Haiplana. It took Clarke a while to accept the protection from the royal guard. When she first arrived in Polis, Lexa insisted she never be left alone. Clarke spent a fair amount of time trying to ditch her security detail. She finally stopped after a heated argument left Lexa in tears. Lexa, who had already lost someone simply because she loved her, couldn't bear the thought of losing Clarke too. The coalition may have been strong and peace was tangible, but it did not mean that Lexa did not have enemies. If those enemies could cause Heda to falter by taking the thing that mattered most to her, they would. So Clarke agreed to the protection the royal guard provided, understanding it was for Lexa's peace of mind.

The two continued to hold hands all the way down the lift. They rarely showed any physical affection outside of their private quarters. Even though Lexa no longer believed that love is weakness, her people did not necessarily hold those same views. Her Fleimkepa made no secret of her disapproval. When Titus made an attempt on Clarke’s life, Lexa banished him from her lands, and Gaia took his place. However, she had been trained by Titus and continued to pass on his teachings to the Natblidas in her care. This resulted in regular lectures to both Lexa and Clarke about the dangers of displaying their love, or their weakness as she often called it.

Clarke led Lexa to one of the private rooms in the clinic where they found one of the healers and a baby in a box. The healer stood, “Heda, Haiplana” she said as she bowed to her leaders.

“Thank you Clara,” Clarke said, “Would you mind leaving us.” She nodded before heading out of the room.

“Clarke, what is this?”

Clarke walked over and carefully lifted the infant into her arms before walking back over to Lexa. “This little one was born today,” she explained. “Her mother arrived from one of the villages in labor and bleeding. She died, but we were able to save her baby.”

“Emon nontu?” (her father)

“She doesn’t have one.” Clarke finally looked up from the baby making eye contact with her love. Lexa nodded slowly. She was beginning to catch onto what Clarke was implying, but she thought it was a bad idea.

“Clarke?”

Clarke looked back down at the baby in her arms. “Would you hold her?” she asked Lexa, who looked shocked.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Clarke,” but her wife was undeterred, holding out the infant for Lexa to take. Lexa knew that if she did hold the little one, it wouldn’t matter what her head was telling her. Clarke knew it too, which is why she made the suggestion. Meeting Clarke’s eyes, she realized how desperately her love wanted this. And she knew she couldn’t deny her. Lexa took the baby in her arms, and the infant immediately started to fuss. She gently rocked the infant back and forth while quietly shushing the baby.

“Lexa, we can raise her. We have enough love to give her a good life.”

“What kind of life will she have? She’ll need to be under constant protection. She won’t be able to leave Polis. She won’t be a normal kid.”

“She’ll be loved.” Clarke argued as tears flooded her eyes. “Lexa, I love you and I agreed to serve as your haiplana; a duty that I do not take lightly. We are in a time of peace, and while you may have non-believers among your subjects, we are safe. We will keep her safe, and she will have a good life. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lexa examined the baby girl in her arms. She looked so little and vulnerable. She needed someone strong to protect her, and who is stronger than Heda. Clarke moved to stand behind Lexa, wrapping her arms around her houmon and the baby. She knew that the commander was close to agreeing.

“Gaia will not approve.” Lexa argued weakly.

“I know, but she serves you. Ultimately her approval is not necessary.”

The baby in her arms opened her eyes, reacting to the sounds around her. Her eyes were an electric blue, brighter than Clarke’s and just as breathtaking.

“Ok,” Lexa whispered, “yes.”

“Yes?” Clarke asked with tears in her voice.

“Yes.” Lexa confirmed before turning her head and kissing Clarke soundly.

—

The new family had returned to their bedroom. One of Heda’s guards carried the box up with them so the little one would have a safe place to sleep.

Surprisingly, once Lexa took hold of the infant, she had yet to put her down. Now she sat on her sofa with her feet pulled up under her, cradling her baby.

“Ai yongon. (my child)” Lexa said.
“Yu yongon. (your child)” Clarke replied, “Em yongon. (our child)”

“Clarke, when I moved to Polis to train, I gave up on the idea of ever having a child.” She paused to make eye contact with Clarke, who was listening with compassion. “Ai nomtu (my father), was killed in battle with Trishanakru. Ai nomon (my mother) always told me when I was a child that I would never have a family of my own. That my nightblood was a blessing and that leading my people was to be my sole focus. She died before I left for Polis. It was a sickness. It’s why Anya took me in.”

The couple sat in silence for a while, both staring at the new baby and lost in their own thoughts.

“On the Ark, you were allowed one child. It couldn’t handle more than that. Slowly it would reduce our population which would allow us to survive in space longer. Until it was safe to return to the ground. That was until my father’s discovery.”

“What was the discovery?”

“That the Ark was dying. There weren't enough resources to last another hundred years in space. So in a desperate attempt to find another solution, the council sent one hundred prisoners–one hundred kids–to the ground. We were expendable, and at the very least would buy everyone on the Ark more time to fix the problem.”

“It may have been the wrong thing, but if they hadn’t sent you to the ground, we would not be here.” Lexa consoled her.

“Yeah, I guess I’m saying that I didn’t know if I would ever have children either.”

Their baby started to fuss, “I think someone is probably hungry,” Clarke commented, and stood up to get the bottle one of their attendants had prepared. Lexa clearly didn’t intend to give up her daughter, and Clarke handed over the bottle. She thought to herself that Lexa would return to work in the morning giving Clarke the entire day to bond with the newborn.

The little girl eagerly accepted the bottle and settled back down into the comfort of her mother’s arms. Both women smiled down at their baby.

“She needs a name,” Clarke said.

“She does.” Lexa agreed, “Any ideas?”

“Costia?” Clarke suggested.

Lexa smiled back up at her before softly pressing her lips to Clarke’s.

“No.” Lexa shook her head. “I loved Costia very much, but if she were still here, you and I would not be. How about Finn?”

“No” Clarke said. “He is a part of my story, but I did not love him like I love you. Audrey?”

Lexa shook her head, “Ember or Emery?”

“No, both too similar to Emerson.” Clarke responded.

“Good point.” Lexa agreed. “Piper?”

“No, Lilith?” Clarke suggested, but Lexa shook her head no, “Shiloh?”

“Too similar to shallow.” Lexa said, “Harmony?”

“Like peace and harmony?” Clarke thought out loud. “Maybe… Nova?”

“Nova is nice.” Lexa said, “What about Aurora?”

“That was Bellamy and Octavia’s mother.” Clarke noted.

“So not Aurora,” Lexa concluded. “Olive?”

“Olive means peace offering,” Clarke said. “Lynx?” Lexa shook her head no, “Nola?” Clarke offered.

“That’s pretty.” Lexa said.

“What about Celeste? It means heavenly.”

“Maybe,” Lexa said, “What about Cleo or Blair?”

“Both strong sounding names,” Clarke said, “and we know that this little one will be strong. Maybe Clarice?”

“No, not Clarice.” Lexa smirked, “There was a Clarice in the village I was born in. He was fond of jobi nuts.”

“Ok, not Clarice.”

The two women sat in silence as their baby finished the bottle. Once she was full, Lexa passed her off to Clarke to burp, who settled the infant against her shoulder and began patting the baby’s back gently.

“What about Flora?” Lexa suggested.

“Like flowers, too delicate.” Clarke responded. “Sage?”

“Too similar to seda.” Lexa said, “what about Lux?”

“It means light; I like it.”

“How do you know that’s what it means?”

“I studied some Latin on The Ark, and Lux is the Latin word for light.”

Lexa nodded. “She is already such a bright light.”

“She is,” Clarke agreed as she resituated the infant so her mothers could see her face. The infant was wide awake and taking in her surroundings.

“Ai hod yu in.” Lexa said to their baby as she pulled her two loves into her arms.

“It’s amazing how much we can love someone we’ve only known for a few hours.” Clarke noted.

“You feel it too?” Lexa asked.

“Of course. How could I not feel it?” Clarke said as she kissed their baby’s forehead.

“Thea?” Lexa suggested, “Does it have a special meaning?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. But wasn’t King Roan’s grandfather Theo?” Clarke responded.

“It was?” Lexa asked.

“Yeah.”

“Not Thea then.”

“What do you think little one? Is your name Lux?” Clarke asked softly. The baby squirmed in her arms before settling down more comfortably. Then she cooed. Lexa and Clarke shared a smile.

“I think she agrees.” Lexa said.

“Welcome to the world Lux.” Clarke whispered.

“Monin hou osir yongon (welcome home our child).” Lexa agreed.

Trigedasleng Vocabulary

em haiplana - her queen
Houmon - wife/partner
Emon nontu - her father
Ai yongon - my child
Yu yongon - your child
Em yongon - our child
Ai nomtu - my father
Ai nomon - my mother
Ai hod yu in - I love you
Monin hou osir yongon - welcome home our child

Chapter Text

Lexa pushed open the heavy doors of the throne room, her day finally done, the familiar weight of leadership settling heavily on her shoulders. To top it off, the Ambassador from Ingranronakru had been particularly… verbose. Each word felt like a tiny stone added to the already overflowing satchel of her responsibilities. The tenuous alliance of the thirteen clans required constant vigilance, endless negotiations, and a patience she sometimes felt was running thin. Her mind, usually a fortress of strategic thought, felt like a battleground of competing demands, each vying for her attention.

She began the long walk from the throne room to her private chambers, the polished stone floors echoing her solitary footsteps. With each step, the desire to shed the mantle of Heda, if only for a few hours, grew stronger. She craved the quiet solace her family offered: Lux’s unburdened laughter, a balm to her soul, and Clarke’s steady presence, a quiet strength she can always lean on.

Earlier that afternoon, she had spent hours with the Natblidas, guiding them through sparring drills, correcting their stances, and answering their earnest questions about strategy and leadership. It was a duty she cherished. Their young faces, eager and determined, filled her heart with hope for the future. They were the inheritors of this fragile peace, the next generation who would carry the torch. They absorbed the lessons eagerly, aware that one among them would eventually host the Flame and ascend to Heda. She loved seeing the spark of understanding in their eyes when a complex maneuver clicked, or the fierce resolve when they pushed past their limits. They were the chosen ones, marked by the sacred blood, and in their raw potential, she saw the enduring strength of Kongeda.

But as she watched them, so full of burgeoning strength and unwavering loyalty, a different ache had begun to form in her chest. Every moment spent nurturing their growth only amplified the yearning to be with her own daughter. Lux, em strik soncha , was growing so fast; each day bringing a new discovery. Lexa desperately wished she could abandon her crown and simply revel in teaching Lux all the glorious wonders life had to offer. The Natblidas gave her hope for the world. But Lux gave her hope for her world—for a future where such simple joys were cherished as much as the grandest achievements.

Lexa reached the door to her private chambers, a sigh escaping her lips. She pushed it open, expecting to find Clarke and Lux within, perhaps Clarke reading by the fire while Lux played with her stuffed teddy bear. The room was empty.

A flicker of concern, quickly replaced by a familiar fondness, crossed Lexa’s face. Clarke and Lux were beginning to spend more time in the smaller, sunnier playroom, a space filled with soft blankets, carved toys, and a scattering of Clarke’s own intricate drawings that Lux loved to chew on, allowing Lux to explore and grow outside the confines of her playpen. Lexa turned, her footsteps now lighter, heading down the corridor towards the playroom.

As she neared the room, a muffled giggle reached her ears, followed by a soft thud. Lexa quickened her pace, a smile already forming on her lips. She pushed open the door, and the sight that greeted her made her pause, all weariness forgotten.

Clarke was kneeling on the plush rug in the center of the room, reaching out for their daughter, a look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face. And Lux, her 14-month-old daughter, was standing. Not just standing, but wobbling with fierce determination, her bright blue eyes fixed on Clarke. She took one step, then another, her small arms held out for balance.

“You’ve got it, little light! Just one more!” Clarke encouraged, her voice a soft, excited whisper.

Lux took a final, triumphant step, a wide, gummy smile spreading across her face, before collapsing into Clarke.

“ Strik soncha !” Lexa breathed, her heart swelling with a joy she had never known. She rushed forward and knelt beside Clarke, opening her arms, encouraging Lux to take a couple more steps so Lexa could cuddle her daughter herself.

“ Osir hodness (we're so proud),” Lexa murmured, pulling Lux into their shared hug, kissing her daughter’s soft, dark curls.

Clarke looked up at Lexa, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You saw her! She just did it, Lexa. All by herself. One moment she was crawling, the next… she just stood up and took off.”

Lexa tightened her embrace around both of them. “I saw. She is… remarkable. Just like her Mama.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Clarke’s temple. “I was just thinking of her, on my way here. Wishing I had more time.”

Clarke smiled, a knowing warmth in her features. “I know, Lexa. The weight of the world rests on your shoulders. But for her, for us, it’s just… this.” She gestured around the playroom, to the scattered toys and their precious family. “This is our peace.”

They stayed there for a long moment, cradling their daughter, marveling at this milestone. Then, Lux, eager to explore her newfound mobility, squirmed out of their arms and toddled a few steps away, immediately captivated by her brightly colored wooden blocks. She sat down with a soft thump, beginning to stack them, each one teetering on top of another. Lexa settled, leaning into Clarke while they talked.

“She makes everything worth it,” Lexa said softly. “Today, with the Natblidas—there were two new arrivals from Sangedakru. Amos and his twin sister, Thea. He was so committed to his training, Clarke. It’s clear he’s been taught to be a warrior since he was very young. Every movement was precise, every parry sharp.”

A moment later, Lux toddled over to Lexa, offering the small, vibrant orange block clutched in her hand. She babbled expectantly, her eyes sparkling with innocent invitation. Lexa's heart melted. She reached out and took the block, her fingers brushing against Lux's soft hand. "Thank you, strik soncha ," she murmured, stacking the block carefully onto Lux's small tower. Lux giggled, clapping her hands again, clearly delighted by this shared construction project.

“And then there’s Leya,” Lexa continued. “She excelled in class. Her knowledge of our people’s history, of the Flame, is truly impressive. She showed great promise as a future leader, not just in strength, but in wisdom. They are good goufas , all of them. They promise our people’s future.”

Just then, Lux’s precariously stacked tower inevitably toppled with a delightful crash. The little girl clapped her hands and gurgled with joy. Clarke chuckled, leaning forward. "Oh, a master builder, I see! And already learning to celebrate in the face of failure. A lesson we would benefit from.” Clarke smirked at Lexa, whose gaze, fixed on the distant future, softened.

“Indeed,” Lexa said, as she reached out to gently ruffle Lux’s curls. "But watching the Natblidas, seeing their potential… it only made me wish I could spend more time with our future, with yumi strik soncha .”

Lux, having thoroughly enjoyed the collapse of her blocks, promptly toddled towards a large, soft stuffed bear, its fur worn smooth from countless hugs. She patted its head, then tried to pull its ear into her mouth, a playful tug-of-war.

Clarke, observing her, shifted slightly, her gaze following Lux. “It’s hard, isn’t it? To be away from her, even for a few hours. That’s why I haven’t been spending as much time at the clinic lately. Jackson and the others are capable, of course, but… I just want to be here for these moments. They go by so fast.”

Lexa, with a gentle smile, reached over to help Lux position the bear for a proper hug. “Be gentle, strik soncha . He's a friend.” She then looked at Clarke, a touch of regret in her eyes. “You are missed there, Clarke. Your touch, your wisdom… it brings comfort to many.”

Soon, Lux had abandoned the bear for a collection of Clarke’s charcoal sticks and a blank piece of parchment. With serious concentration, she began to scribble, making wide, joyful arcs across the page.

Clarke sighed, a faint smile touching her lips. “I know,” she said. “And I miss it too, in a way. The work is fulfilling. But when Lux is older, when she’s in school with the other children, perhaps then I’ll want to go back more regularly. For now, this is where I need to be.” She paused, her look growing distant, then turning back to Lexa with a new, hesitant question in her eyes. “Lexa… will there ever be a time, do you think, when you are not Heda? When instead of spending your days dealing with border disputes and peace treaties, we can simply… enjoy our days together? Watch Lux grow, perhaps even plant a garden, just us?”

Lux occasionally looked up at her mothers with bright, expectant eyes as she scribbled. Clarke leaned in, "Are you drawing us, little light?" Lux giggled in response, making more enthusiastic marks, and clearly delighted by her creation.

Lexa’s gaze softened, a rare vulnerability in her usually stoic expression. She looked from Clarke to Lux, then back to the scattered toys. “I have thought of it, Clarke. More than you know. A life unburdened by the Flame, it is a powerful dream. But I am nowhere near ready. The peace, as you know, is precarious, built on a tenuous alliance. And my duty…”

Clarke reached out, her fingers intertwining with Lexa’s. “I know,” she whispered, her voice laced with a deep, quiet longing. “I know.”

Lux, with a final enthusiastic flourish, dropped her charcoal stick, then pointed excitedly at her work, babbling to get her mothers' attention.

Clarke smiled warmly, reaching out to take the paper. "Oh, little light! What a budding artist you are! So many colors, it’s so pretty!"

Lexa leaned closer, her eyes softening as she surveyed the abstract masterpiece. "She is a visionary, like her Mama."

Clarke chuckled, meeting Lexa's gaze. "And like her Nomon too.”

Lux, satisfied with her work and her mothers' reactions, toddled a few steps towards a small pile of picture books, a collection Clarke had drawn and bound herself. She selected one with a colorful, hand-drawn lion on the cover, its mane a vibrant yellow, and a tiny, brown mouse peering from behind its paw. Lux clutched the book, her eyes wide with a clear request, and pushed it towards her mothers, then settled herself expectantly on the rug.

"Ah, 'The Lion and the Mouse'!" Clarke exclaimed, a fond smile spreading across her face. "A classic, little light. One of Mama's favorites." She opened the book, her voice softening into a gentle cadence, "Once upon a time, in a great, sprawling forest, lived a mighty Lion..."

Lux made a soft, insistent "Mmm-hmm" sound, then looked from Clarke to Lexa, her bright blue eyes full of an unspoken plea to Nomon .

Clarke looked up at Lexa, a playful smirk touching her lips. "I think someone wants a different storyteller, Nomon . Your Heda voice, perhaps, for the mighty Lion?"

A flash of genuine surprise crossed Lexa's features, followed quickly by a faint, almost shy smile. Lux had only recently started to show an interest in reading, and so far she'd only requested stories from Clarke. Lexa didn't think of herself as a storyteller. She reserved her Heda voice to command the respect of the ambassadors, not for animating fictional beasts. But as Lux’s gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering in its innocent demand, Lexa's resolve softened, and a quiet eagerness to share this moment with her daughter filled her. She took the book from Clarke and held out her arms to Lux, who eagerly climbed into her lap and settled in for the story. "Alright, strik soncha . 'Once upon a time, in a great, sprawling forest, lived a mighty Lion...'" Lexa's voice, usually firm and resonant, adopted a surprisingly soft, low timbre, attempting a gruff growl for the Lion that made Lux giggle, then a tiny, squeaky whisper for the Mouse.

After the story, Lux wiggled out of her nomon ’s hold to continue her playful exploration, toddling over to a basket of soft, colorful fabrics, burying her face in them, then pulling out a brightly colored scarf to wave like a flag. Her movements grew a little slower, her giggles softer, a subtle slump appearing in her shoulders as the day's excitement began to wane. Eventually, with a soft yawn, she abandoned the scarf and crawled tiredly towards Lexa, reaching up with small arms. Lexa, noticing the signs of her daughter's fading energy, scooped her up to cuddle her close. Lux settled comfortably into her nomon 's embrace, a soft sigh escaping her lips, her head nestling against Lexa's chest, her eyes already growing heavy.

"Perhaps it's time for dinner, strik soncha ," Lexa murmured, her voice tender, pressing a kiss to Lux's soft curls.

Clarke smiled and reached out and gently stroked Lux's back. Together, the three of them left the playroom, grateful for the precious moments spent in their own world, their own peace.

Chapter Text

Clarke had put her two-year-old Lux down for a nap, settling her on furs on the study floor. The room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon sun, which streamed through the tall, arched window, casting warm, shifting patterns across the polished wooden floor. A comfortable quiet settled over the space, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves outside and the muffled sounds of Polis. The air carried a faint scent of old parchment and beeswax, a familiar comfort to Clarke. She sat at her own small, sturdy table, a fresh piece of thick, creamy parchment before her, and a set of charcoal sticks laid out neatly. Deep in the world she was creating, her brow was furrowed, yet a soft smile graced her lips. It was moments like these, stolen from the relentless demands of leadership, that truly grounded her. Drawing had always been her escape, a way to process the chaos of the world, but now, it was a celebration of the peace they had fought so hard for.

She was sketching a picture of her family. On the paper, the shoreline stretched out, rendered with delicate lines that outlined the gentle curve of the land meeting the water. The river itself was a brilliant, shallow blue, painted with such clarity that one could see the smooth, rounded river stones and pebbles scattered across its bed. In the foreground, Lexa stood tall and strong, her figure a protective anchor, holding a tiny, happy Lux securely in her arms. Clarke had drawn herself with her arms wrapped around both of them, a protective and loving embrace that conveyed warmth and belonging. In the background, a majestic waterfall cascaded down rocky cliffs, its spray catching the bright sunlight, creating a shimmering mist that added a touch of magic to the scene. She illustrated a moment of perfect tranquility, deep love, and shared happiness, vividly capturing how Lux completed their lives. It served as a testament to how Lexa, the formidable Commander, had softened, and Clarke, the reluctant leader, had found solace in this quiet domesticity.

A soft rustle from the furs signaled Lux's awakening. Her little legs moved with surprising speed as she toddled towards Clarke, her dark curls bouncing with each step. Clarke smiled, picking her up and settling the sleepy toddler on her lap. In her daughter's presence, Clarke effortlessly transformed into a doting mother. Lux was her everything—her little light that illuminated the darkest of things.

“Did you sleep well, little light?” Clarke murmured, kissing Lux’s soft head.

Lux yawned, snuggling deeper into her mother’s embrace and nodding.

“What you doing, mama?” Lux asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m drawing,” Clarke said, pulling the paper closer so Lux could see. She pointed to the figures, asking, “Who’s this, little light?”

Lux’s eyes widened, then lit up with recognition. “Mama! Nomon! And me!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiastic delight. “It’s us!” She reached out a chubby finger and pointed. “Nomon is holding me. She’s so big and strong! Like a tree!”

Clarke chuckled, her heart swelling. “Yes, Nomon is very strong. And who’s this, with the arms around everyone?”

“It’s you, Mama! Big, warm hug! Like a blanket!” Lux giggled, wiggling happily so she could offer her own hug, which Clarke returned in full.

“That’s right, a big warm hug. And what about the water, Lux? What do you see in the water?”

“Water is blue, blue, blue! So pretty! I see… rocks! Little rocks on the bottom! Splashy water!” Lux pointed excitedly at the depiction.

“And what’s that big splashy thing behind us?” Clarke prompted, tracing the waterfall with her finger.

“Water-fall! Big, loud water-fall! Whoosh!” Lux made a whooshing sound, her eyes wide. “And the sun! Sun is so bright, shining on our faces, like a happy, happy day!”

“You’re so smart and so creative!” Clarke felt a surge of warmth as Lux's pure joy in noticing overlooked details became a beautiful reminder to appreciate the simple things.

“Do you like it, little light?”

“Yes! It’s our family! I like spending time with Mama and Nomon. It’s happy time!” Lux declared, bouncing slightly on Clarke’s lap. “Mama, I draw too,” she said, more statement than question.

Clarke kissed her head again, a wave of tenderness washing over her. She gently moved her own drawing aside, bringing a fresh canvas and some charcoal in front of Lux. 

“I draw us too, Mama!” Her announcement was spirited, now that she had successfully shed the last remnants of sleep.

Lux’s family portrait was less clear, but the colors were undeniably her own. She drew a vibrant purple sun in an orange sky, and the trees were a bright, striking shade of blue.

“Why are the trees blue, little light?” Clarke asked, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Lux looked up, her blue eyes earnest. “Because they’re better that way,” she explained with absolute certainty. Then, gesturing with her small animated hands, she began to make up a story about where they were in her picture and how they had gotten there:

“We are on a big, big adventure! Our purple sun is shining, and the sky is orange because it’s a special, happy day. We went on a big, flying bird, like the one Nomon told me about, but it had soft, soft feathers! And it flew us over the blue trees, because they are so pretty and they sing happy songs when the wind blows.” She explained, barely taking a breath.

“Blue trees that sing? That sounds amazing, Lux! What do they sing about?” Clarke prompted, her eyes twinkling.

“They sing about happy things! About sunshine and flowers and… and cake!” Lux exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable in her little body. “We landed in a secret garden, where the flowers are sparkly, and the rivers are made of juice!”

“Rivers of juice? What kind of juice, sweetie?”

“Apple juice! And berry juice! Yummy! And there are friendly, fluffy monsters who give us candy, and they love to play hide-and-seek. Nomon is teaching them how to be strong,” she said in a deep, toddler voice, flexing her muscles. “And Mama is giving them hugs when they are sad.” Hugging herself for emphasis. Her excitement caused her to bounce on Clarke’s lap, as she continued, “And I’m helping them find all the best sparkly flowers! We will stay there forever and ever, and we will eat cake every day, and the blue trees will keep singing!” 

Clarke listened, her heart swelling with pride at her daughter’s boundless imagination. Lux’s world was so vibrant, so unburdened by the grim realities Clarke had known. It was a precious gift, this innocence, and Clarke vowed to protect it fiercely. “Mama, when we go on an adventure?” Lux asked, looking up at her with big, hopeful eyes.

“You want to go somewhere, little light?” Clarke asked, stroking Lux’s hair.

“Mmm, hmm,” Lux hummed, still absorbed in her masterpiece.

“Where do you want to go?”

“We go to the forest,” she said, pointing vaguely towards the window.

“What do you want to do when we get there?”

“Build a fire. And sleep outside,” Lux declared, her eyes bright with the thought. “We look for animals and tell stories.”

“That sounds like a wonderful adventure, little light,” Clarke said, smiling. “But we’ll have to ask Nomon about going camping. She’s very busy, you know.”

“Nomon say yes,” Lux stated confidently, snapping her head up and down to her chest in affirmation. “Because she likes adventures too!”

“Does she?” Clarke asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. Lexa, an adventurer? In a way, yes, but not in the carefree way Lux imagined. Her adventures were battles, negotiations, the constant weight of leadership. Yet, Lux saw exhilaration in everything her Nomon did.

“Yes! She tell me about adventures she goes on,” Lux insisted. 

“Hmmm,” Clarke started. “What adventures has Nomon gone on?”

“She goes to TonDC sometimes. For important work!” Lux said, looking up at Clarke to convince her. “Heda has to visit her people so they know that she is the Commander and she protects them and makes them happy. She has to ride on the horses. Fast, fast horses! She rides them whoosh! Like the wind!” Clarke began to bounce and sway Lux in her lap to stimulate riding a horse, which caused her daughter to dissolve in a fit of giggles.

“And she sees big, big trees, taller than the Tower!” Clarke smirked, hearing about her houmon ’s work through the eyes of her yongon . It was a simplified, beautiful truth. Lexa did protect her people and try to make them happy, even if the reality was far more complex and often brutal. Lux's perspective was a refreshing, innocent lens.

“Where else does Nomon go on adventures?” Clarke prompted, curious.

“She tell me about another adventure you and Nomon had to escape the pauna. It was a big, grumpy monster!” To emphasize her point, Lux turned to Clarke, pulling her hands up like bear claws and growled. Clarke laughed at her daughter’s antics. “And Nomon was so brave, and you were so brave, and you ran so fast, zoom! And the pauna couldn’t catch you! And then you were safe!” When she finished her reenactment, she returned to her drawing once more.

Clarke thought back to having to escape the gorilla, and she remembered it less of an adventure and more of a barely-survived story. The memory still sent a shiver down her spine—the raw fear, the desperate fight for survival. To Lux, it was a thrilling tale, a testament to their bravery, not the near-death experience it truly was. She was glad Lux saw it that way.

“And she goes to the water sometimes and goes swimming,” Lux said, her eyes wide as if sharing a secret. “She goes splash, splash! Like a fish! And she sees the little fishies swim by.” She explained, flapping her arms as if she were splashing in the bath. (A habit they were trying to break her of, because it got water everywhere).

Clarke didn't remember Lexa ever talking about swimming. However, Bellamy had recently visited and, with his usual boisterous enthusiasm, told Lux all about swimming in the ocean, making it sound like the grandest escapade. Somehow, in Lux's mind, those tales had merged with Nomon's own adventures, creating a new, heroic narrative. And Clarke was beginning to understand how deeply her daughter idolized her Nomon, seeing her as capable of anything, even swimming like a fish. The thought flooded her with warmth. She briefly thought back to when they had first adopted Lux, and how much convincing it had taken for Lexa to agree to take on the responsibility of a child. But now, here was Lux, who saw Lexa not just as a leader, but as a hero, a figure of abundant strength and wonder. It was a gift only a child could give, this pure, untainted admiration.

“Mama, what is swimming?” Lux asked, picking up the red charcoal to add what might be sun rays to her creation.

Clarke smiled. “That’s a good question! Swimming is… moving through the water using your arms and legs, just like a fish, so you can go wherever you want in the river or a lake. You float and push the water away to move.”

“When you teach me swimming, Mama?” Lux asked, her eyes shining with eagerness.

Clarke smirked. “Mmm, maybe we can go swimming in the river outside Polis in a few days. When Nomon can go with us.”

Lux looked up at Clarke with compassionate eyes. “Nomon has to come with us for swimming. She be sad if we leave her behind.”

“That’s right, little light.” Lux’s empathy was limitless. She didn't want anyone to feel left out, especially Nomon.

“I don’t want no one to be sad,” Lux said, her brow furrowing slightly.

“I know, baby. You know what else I know?” Clarke said, pulling Lux into a tighter hug. “I know that as long as you’re here, no one will be sad. Because your name, Lux, means light, and you are the brightest shining light I know.”

“ Ai bilaik soncha , Mama?” (I’m like the sun) Lux asked, her eyes wide.

“You’re just like the sun,” Clarke affirmed, kissing her forehead.

“And the sun makes everything happy.”

“That’s right, the sun makes everything happy. So you too, little light, make everything happy.”

Lux beamed up at Clarke, a wide, unburdened grin, and then, satisfied, went back to her picture, humming softly.

Clarke thought about her own childhood on the Ark, how she too would draw the ground, using her art as an escape from the confining metal walls and the harsh realities of their existence; a joy she was now thankful to share with her daughter. But more than that, Clarke was profoundly grateful that Lux didn’t know those same dark times—never the fear of a dying Ark, nor the brutal conflicts when the clans were at war, or when Kongeda and Skaikru were enemies. Lux was just a child who felt safe enough to imagine a world with purple suns and blue trees. Every day with Lux would shine just a little brighter, her radiant joy naturally dispelling any darkness in their path.

Trigedasleng Vocabulary
Houmon - Wife or Partner
Yongon - daughter/child
Kongeda - the coalition
Ai bilaik soncha - I'm like the sun

Chapter Text

The river that wound around the outer walls of Polis was usually serious. Strong currents, hidden depths, and calm banks made it a place for stillness or fishing. But today, it was a playground, sparkling in the late-morning sun. And at its edge stood two fierce leaders and their toothy two-year-old, ready to embark on their adventure.

Lux was dressed in a comically oversized tunic and held tightly to Clarke's hands while they waded into the river. She enthusiastically stomped her feet, sending sprays of water high into the air and soaking them both. As the breeze blew past, it raised goosebumps along Clarke’s arms as her body tried to ward off the chill.

“Splashy-splashy!” Lux shrieked, her tiny voice bursting with joy.

“That’s right, little light—splashy-splashy!” Clarke laughed, moving deeper into the clear water. She hoisted Lux up onto her hip, and the little girl, feeling secure, slapped at the surface with her hands, sending ripples outward.

Then, suddenly: “Mama, look! Fish!” she squealed, her eyes wide with wonder.

Clarke followed her gaze and smiled. “I see it, little light. The fish swim in the river too.”

Lexa stood on the bank, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on her lips. She had been surprised Clarke wanted to take Lux swimming. Foolishly, she’d assumed that being raised in space meant Clarke would have no interest in the water. But Clarke, who was always brave, would do anything for their daughter.

Lexa would too. She’d move the lands and the skies for Lux. But she was more comfortable on solid ground. She might be fearless as Heda, but unlike the earth beneath her feet or the armies she led, the river was unpredictable.

“Nomon! Min yu op!” (Come!) Lux commanded, stretching a chubby arm toward Lexa, her blue eyes sparkling with an invitation that was impossible to refuse.

Lexa’s dramatic groan made Clarke chuckle. “The water is… cold, strik soncha,” she declared. “And full of… slippery things.”

“No slippery!” Lux insisted, shaking her head so hard her curls bounced. “Only splashy! And Mama is here!”

Clarke grinned, splashing a little water toward Lexa with her free hand. “She’s right, Heda. The water’s fine. And we need your expert guidance.”

With another exaggerated sigh, Lexa decided to brave the cold—and the slippery things—for Lux. As she slowly waded into the river, the water, only lightly warmed by the sun, made her shiver. But drawing on her courage, she stepped carefully over the slick stones to join her family.

“Nomon laik hir, strik soncha. Ba nou… fis.” (Nomon is here, little light. But no…fish.)

Lux giggled, her entire body vibrating with excitement. “No fishies for Nomon!”

Clarke adjusted her grip on Lux and smiled at Lexa. “Are you ready to swim, little light?”

“Yes! Splashy and swimming. Like a fish!” Lux declared, bouncing in Clarke’s arms.

Clarke, seeing Lexa approaching, caught her eyes to make sure she was ready. Lexa smiled and gave a small nod.

“Okay, little light. Now you’re going to swim to Nomon,” Clarke said.

Lux looked up at her, suddenly unsure. “Swim?”

“You’re just going to move your arms and legs really fast,” Clarke explained.

Lux blinked. She looked down at her kicking legs, then up at Clarke, then at Lexa, now standing directly in front of them. Once her legs were moving, she started flapping her arms above the water like a bird.

“Exactly like that, little light!” Clarke said, nearly laughing, because what else could she do?

Then, with a gentle push, she sent Lux floating a few inches toward Lexa.

Lux’s arms flailed wildly, her legs churning beneath her, but she didn’t quite understand how to move forward. Most of her focus was on keeping her head above the water. 

Lexa, with a soft laugh, reached out and scooped her into her arms. “You’re a very… eager fish, strik soncha,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Lux’s wet hair. “But perhaps a little more… direct.”

Lux giggled, nestling briefly into her nomon’s shoulder. And then exploded upward with a shriek. “Nodotaim!” (Again!) she said, already reaching for Clarke.

And so the game began. Clarke would playfully send Lux toward Lexa, who caught her with a dramatic flourish and a whispered, “Yu don, strik fis.” (You did it, little fish.) Then Lux would demand to be sent back to Clarke, bubbling with uncontrollable laughter as she was passed back and forth—a tiny, human shuttle between two women who, in this moment, were just moms.

“She’s not actually swimming, is she?” Lexa whispered to Clarke, as Lux spun happily between them, her arms windmilling.

Clarke chuckled, her eyes soft as she watched their daughter. “Not in the traditional sense, no. But she’s having fun. And she’s with us. That’s all I care about.”

Lux, oblivious to their conversation, suddenly launched herself from Lexa’s arms with a mighty, uncoordinated leap, aiming squarely for Clarke’s face. Clarke caught her, laughing as Lux’s wet curls slapped against her cheek.

“Again, Mama! Odontaim, Nomon!” Lux’s voice rose above the splashing, filling the air with delight.

And so they continued: two formidable leaders, one brave little girl, and a river alive with splashes and the simple joy of a family just being together.

Trigedasleng Vocabulary
Nomon — Mother **Lux’s name for Lexa**
Min yu op! — Come!
Nomon laik hir, strik soncha. Ba nou… fis . — Nomon is here, little light. But no…fish.
Odontaim — Again
Yu don, strik fis. — You did it, little fish.

Chapter Text

The air in the Polis throne room was thick with tension, a palpable weight that pressed down on the assembled ambassadors of the Thirteen Clans. Lexa sat upon her throne, her expression unreadable. The matter at hand: dwindling resources. The solution, she knew: open more trade routes and increase the exchange of goods. But her ambassadors didn’t like admitting the need for better cooperation. While they begrudgingly appreciated the peace she had fostered, many were weary of losing their clan’s independence and their unique identities if they were to agree to strengthen trade relations and military collaboration.

Lexa didn’t see it the same way. She believed it was their differences that made Kongeda, the coalition, more prosperous. Exchanging goods and services allowed everyone to have the best of everything. Well-fed, clothed, and sheltered people were happier, and happier people were peaceful people.

While the ambassador from Boudalan, a stern-faced man named Joric, was yet again explaining in painstaking detail how hard their people worked to gather materials to craft high-quality hunting spears, a high-pitched giggle echoed from the antechamber, followed by the unmistakable sound of small, quick footsteps. A collective ripple of surprise went through the room. Lexa's eyes, usually so focused, flickered towards the ornate doors.

Before anyone could react, the heavy doors burst open, not with the solemnity of a guard or the urgency of a messenger, but with a joyful, unbridled energy. A small figure, barely three years old, tumbled into the vast space. It was Lux.

Her dark curls bounced as she skidded to a halt on the polished floor, her bright blue eyes, so like Clarke's, were wide with mischievous delight. She was wearing a tunic of soft, worn leather, and clutched a crudely carved wooden bird in one hand. It had been a gift made by Bellamy as he was learning to carve.

"Nomon!" Lux shrieked, her voice echoing through the stunned silence. Her gaze immediately locked onto Lexa on the throne, and with a renewed burst of energy, she began to toddle, then run, directly towards her.

The ambassadors sat frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock, confusion, and thinly veiled amusement. Some shifted uncomfortably, others exchanged bewildered glances. Joric, mid-sentence about the tensile strength of Boudalan timber, simply trailed off, his mouth agape. No one, not even the most seasoned warrior, had ever witnessed such a breach of decorum in the Heda's presence.

Lexa, for her part, remained perfectly still on her throne, but a subtle, almost imperceptible softening touched her features. The stern lines around her mouth eased, and her eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of pure, unadulterated affection. She watched her daughter approach, a tiny whirlwind of innocence in a room of hardened leaders.

A few guards, who had been standing rigidly at attention, seemed unsure whether to intercept the child or simply stand down. But before they could make a move, Lux reached the foot of the throne. She looked up at Lexa, her small face alight.

"Nomon, look!" she exclaimed, holding up the wooden bird. "Birdie flew! All the way from my room!"

Lexa slowly reached down, her strong hand gently encircling Lux's small one. She took the wooden bird, examining it with a seriousness usually reserved for ancient artifacts. "It sure did, strik soncha (little light)," she said, her voice, though still low, carrying a warmth that was entirely new to the ears of many in the room. "Was it a fast bird?"

Lux nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. "So fast! And it wanted to see you, Nomon! Why are all these people sitting here?" She gestured vaguely at the assembled ambassadors, her brow furrowing in confusion. Lux had spent time in the throne room, but only while it was empty or for religious ceremonies.

A few stifled coughs could be heard from the ambassadorial ranks. Lexa's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "They are listening, little one. And thinking very hard about how to help our people."

"Oh." Lux considered this, then pointed a small finger at Joric. "Is he thinking about his grumpy face?"

Joric visibly stiffened, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. A ripple of suppressed laughter went through the room. Lexa's gaze met his for a fleeting moment, a silent apology mixed with a hint of amusement, before she turned back to her daughter.

"He is thinking about many important things, Lux," Lexa said gently, her voice firm but kind. "Yu souda shof op strik soncha (you must be quiet little light)? Nomon has work to do."

Just then, Clarke appeared in the doorway, her face a mixture of exasperation and amusement. She had clearly been in pursuit, her hair slightly disheveled. "Lux!" she whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. "Oh, my god. I am so sorry, Heda. She slipped past me. I just turned my back for a second to get her juice..."

Lexa looked up, meeting Clarke's gaze, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. A shared, knowing look passed between them, a silent acknowledgment of the chaos and joy their daughter brought. "It is quite alright, Clarke," Lexa said, her voice carrying across the silent room. "A momentary… diversion. She was just showing me her new bird."

Clarke sighed, a mix of relief and continued mortification. "Come on, little light, let's go play somewhere else." She started to move towards Lux, but the little girl clung to Lexa's leg.

"No! I want to stay with Nomon!" Lux protested, her lower lip beginning to tremble.

Lexa gently stroked Lux's hair. "You can stay, strik soncha," she murmured, then Lexa paused, her eyes lingering on Clarke. "In fact," she continued, her voice gaining a thoughtful edge, "perhaps you could stay too, Clarke. Your insights on resource management and inter-clan relations have always been valuable. We are discussing the expansion of trade routes." 

Clarke's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. The ambassadors exchanged bewildered glances; since leaving Arkadia, Clarke seldom attended these meetings anymore. 

"Of course, Heda," Clarke nodded, a grateful smile replacing her look of panic. She moved gracefully to the side of the throne to take her seat at Lexa’s right side. Lexa gently settled Lux onto her lap, adjusting her tunic. Lux immediately snuggled in, one hand clutching her bird and the other hand finding its way to the nape of Lexa’s neck, a spot that Lux found great comfort in massaging, her eyes still wide with curiosity as she looked out at the room.

Lexa then looked back at the assembled ambassadors, who were attempting to regain their composure. Regaining her customary authority, Lexa announced, “Ambassadors, Clarke has spent considerable time studying the agricultural and manufacturing capacities of all clans. Her perspective on how we might best integrate our strengths could prove beneficial. Joric was just telling us of the spears Boudalan makes.”

Clarke nodded, her gaze connecting with Joric, who remained perturbed by her presence. Theron, the Yujleda Ambassador who had lost brothers in the Skaikru massacre, watched Clarke with a quiet, analytical, yet skeptical gaze

"Indeed," Clarke began, her voice clear and measured, addressing Joric directly. "While the Boudalan's spears are exceptional, Joric, consider the potential for increased yield if we were to introduce new fishing techniques from the Floukru, whose connection to the water is unparalleled, or if the Trishanakru's advanced farming techniques could yield superior crops both in number and in taste. True prosperity comes not just from what we produce individually, but from how effectively we share and improve upon it together. The goal is not to diminish individual clan identity, but to elevate the collective standard of living for all." 

A murmur went through the room. Clarke's diplomatic words cut through the usual posturing. Joric, still visibly put out, seemed to consider her point,his brow furrowing in thought. Theron, from Yujleda, remained impassive, but a flicker of cautious interest crossed his features; Clarke's emphasis on collective improvement seemed to resonate, despite his ingrained skepticism.

Even with a child in her lap, Lexa’s sweeping gaze maintained her authority in the room. "As Haiplana wisely points out," Lexa began, her voice firm, "the terms of the treaty will require each clan to provide more of their finest goods, not merely for their own consumption, but for the benefit of all Kongeda. The Boudalan's spears, for example, are indeed of high quality, Joric, and would be invaluable in the hands of any warrior in any clan, strengthening our collective defense."

Theron then spoke, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of Yujleda's history. "The concept of shared prosperity is… compelling, Heda. However, my clan has seen the pitfalls of relying too heavily on the methods of others, particularly those from outside our traditional ways. Our history has taught us caution when integrating new practices, especially those that might disrupt established efficiencies." He paused, his gaze briefly meeting Clarke's. "How would such integration be managed to ensure fairness, and to prevent any single clan from bearing an undue burden or losing its unique advantage?"

Clarke met his gaze directly. "That is precisely where careful planning and mutual respect come into play, Ambassador. It would involve detailed assessments of each clan's capacities, transparent agreements on exchange rates, and a system for collaborative innovation. For example, Yujleda's meticulous record-keeping and diplomatic wisdom, which your clan is renowned for, would be invaluable in establishing fair trade protocols and mediating any disagreements that might arise. It is about leveraging each clan's unique strengths, not weakening them. It’s about creating a system where the Ouskejon's master craftsmen, for instance, could share their techniques for durable housing with clans in harsher climates, or the Ingranronakru's ingenuity could help optimize water collection for everyone. The goal is a stronger, more resilient Kongeda, where every clan benefits from the collective wisdom and resources."

Lexa nodded, reinforcing Clarke's statement. "Of course. It is not about assimilation, but about synergy. Each clan retains its identity, but contributes to a greater whole. Yujleda's foresight, for instance, would be critical in anticipating future needs and ensuring the long-term sustainability of these exchanges. We are not asking you to abandon your traditions, but to allow your strengths to benefit more than just yourselves."

Joric shifted in his seat, a frown deepening on his face. "With respect, Heda, Haiplana, the Boudalan's spears are crafted with generations of knowledge. The wood is chosen, cured, and shaped with spiritual reverence. To simply 'share' our methods, … it feels like a dilution of our craft, a loss of what makes Boudalan unique. And who decides what is 'fair'? The effort to produce our finest goods is immense. Will other clans match that dedication?" His voice held a defensive edge, a clear concern for his clan's distinctive identity and the perceived burden of sharing their hard-won expertise.

Clarke's expression remained calm. "Ambassador, your concern for the integrity of Boudalan's craft is understood and respected. The intention is not to dilute, but to elevate. Imagine if the strength of your spears were to be combined with the precision metalworking that Skaikru technology can offer, we could create a weapon even more effective, saving more lives in defense of our borders. Or if the spiritual reverence you apply to your craft could inspire the creation of tools for other clans, tools that are not just functional but imbued with purpose and longevity. The 'fairness' would be established through open dialogue, with each clan contributing what they can best provide, and receiving what they most need. It is a system of mutual benefit, where the burden is shared, and the rewards are greater for all."

Lexa leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a tone that commanded absolute attention. "The peace we are forging, Ambassadors, is built on more than just the absence of war. It is built on shared prosperity, on mutual reliance. When one clan flourishes, all of Kongeda benefits. When one clan suffers, we all feel the tremor. This is not a request for charity, but a strategic imperative. The strength of the Boudalan's spears, Joric, will be recognized and honored, not diminished, by their wider use in defending our collective peace. A peace we can pass down to our children.” 

As Lexa spoke, the small child on her lap stirred slightly, letting out a soft, contented sigh and nestling her head against Lexa's chest. The small, innocent sound, a stark contrast to the weighty political discussion, served as a subtle reminder of the very future they were debating – a future of peace and prosperity for the next generation. Lexa's gaze flickered down to her daughter for a brief moment, a silent reinforcement of the profound stakes involved, before returning to the ambassadors, her resolve unwavering.

Theron cleared his throat. "The concept of mutual benefit is clear, Heda. But the practical implementation across thirteen diverse clans, with differing needs and historical rivalries... it presents a significant challenge. How would such a system be governed? Who would arbitrate disputes over resources or quality? And what assurances can be given that this 'sharing' does not become a means for larger clans to exploit the smaller, or for some to shirk their responsibilities?" His questions were precise, reflecting Yujleda's cautious, methodical approach.

Clarke looked at Theron, acknowledging the validity of his concerns. "Those are vital questions, Ambassador. The governance would require a council of representatives, perhaps yourselves, to oversee the exchanges and arbitrate disputes. We would establish clear standards for goods and services, and a system for tracking contributions and needs. As for assurances, the very foundation of this new treaty is mutual trust and accountability. It is a long-term commitment. We begin with transparency, with open communication, and with a shared vision for a future where no clan is left wanting, and where every clan's unique contribution is valued."

Clarke's detailed explanation, grounded in practicalities and a clear vision, seemed to resonate. Theron, his initial skepticism fading, offered a subtle nod as he processed the proposed framework for governance and accountability. Joric, though still maintaining a hint of his "grumpy face," seemed to weigh the potential benefits of improved collective defense against his clan's deep pride, his frown less a sign of anger and more of deep consideration. A new, fragile possibility of agreement began to emerge, subtly changing the room's atmosphere under Lexa's watchful, almost imperceptibly relieved, gaze.

The tension from the beginning of the meeting had lifted. The air was lighter, the rigid formality slightly softened by the unexpected burst of childlike joy and the unexpected, yet welcome, addition of Clarke's pragmatic voice. Lux, perched comfortably on Lexa's lap, quietly began to hum, occasionally nudging the wooden bird against her mother's chest. The ambassadors, though attempting to regain their solemnity, found their eyes occasionally drifting to the small, silent figure on Heda's lap, a tiny, living testament to a side of their formidable commander they had never known existed, now joined by the unexpected diplomatic presence of Clarke.

Trigedasleng Vocabulary
Kongeda: The coalition.
Nomon: mother
Heda: Commander
strik soncha: Little light
Yu souda shof op strik soncha: You must be quiet, little light.
Haiplana: Queen

Chapter Text

The air in the Polis training grounds was usually thick with disciplined energy—the clang of practice blades, the sharp commands of instructors, the scent of sweat and worn leather mingling with the faint, metallic tang of steel. But this morning, a different, almost hesitant quiet settled over the main arena. The distant calls of city life—a hawker's cry, the rumble of a cart, the faint laughter of children playing—were the only things disturbing the serenity of the battle ring. The usual echoes of combat were replaced by a hushed anticipation, the space reserved for something profoundly personal, a moment of quiet instruction between a formidable leader and her most precious charge.

Lexa stood in the center, not in her usual battle armor, which projected an aura of impenetrable command, but in simpler, dark training leathers, revealing the mother few were privileged to witness. Her expression was a careful blend of her characteristic resolve, a stone-hewn determination, and something softer, a flicker of tenderness rarely seen outside the sanctity of her private chambers. Beside her, a small figure, barely reaching her hip, bounced on the balls of her feet, an irrepressible spring in her step that seemed to defy the solemnity of the arena, a tiny whirlwind of pure, unadulterated life.

It was Lux, all of four years old, bright blue eyes so strikingly like Clarke's, dark curls escaping a hastily tied braid, and a youthful face alight with exuberance and a zest for life. She knew that her nomon was taking her to the training grounds so she could practice like the natblidas she would watch from the tower for as long as her attention would hold. She was fascinated by the way they danced and the way their weapons extended their bodies. They were pillars of strength, and she wanted to be one.

Lexa had brought her here, not out of immediate necessity, for Lux was still so young, her hands too small for a sword. She was a child of peace, a beacon of hope, born into a fragile truce. This was to be a gentle introduction, a private session with Heda, her Nomon. A space where Lux could explore without the pressure of the Commander's legacy, and where she could simply be a child learning from her Nomon.

Yet, it stemmed from a deep-seated belief that even Lux, her strik soncha, needed to understand the foundations of their precarious existence. The world was dangerous, peace a fragile thing, constantly threatened by old hatreds and new ambitions. Every day was a testament to the delicate balance they maintained. While Clarke championed diplomacy and healing, believing with unwavering conviction in the power of words and compassion, Lexa knew the strength of the blade was often the only language truly understood, the ultimate guarantor of any fragile peace.

"Lux," Lexa began, her voice low, yet its inherent authority held a surprising gentleness for the child. "Today, we learn about balance. Not just with your feet, little one, but inside you. It is how you stand strong, not just against an opponent, but against the storms of life. Even when the ground beneath you shifts, when fear or doubt try to knock you down, this balance will hold you."

She picked up a small, smoothed wooden staff, no thicker than Lux's arm, its surface worn smooth by countless practice sessions, by the hands of young warriors who had come before. The wood felt cool and familiar in Lexa's hand, a tactile connection to generations of training.

"Hold it. Like this." Lexa demonstrated: her grip firm, stance wide and rooted like a mountain's base, a living embodiment of stability and quiet power. She guided Lux to distribute her weight evenly, to feel the solid earth beneath her feet, drawing strength from the ancient stones of Polis. "Feel how it holds you? How you are part of it, grounded and unwavering?"

Lux took the staff, its circumference a challenge for her tiny fingers, yet surprisingly light in her small hands. She mimicked Lexa’s stance, her brow furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out slightly from the corner of her mouth in a gesture of intense focus. But her small legs wobbled precariously, like a newborn fawn taking its first steps, and her gaze, ever curious, ever drawn to the vibrant and unexpected, drifted to a brilliant yellow butterfly flitting near the weathered stone wall.

"Nomon, look! A butterfly!" she shrieked, her voice echoing with pure delight, pointing with the staff and nearly toppling over in her enthusiasm, her balance completely forgotten in the face of such simple wonder. The staff clattered against the ground, a stark, playful sound in the quiet arena, utterly out of place yet perfectly fitting for Lux.

Lexa knelt, her stern features softening almost imperceptibly, allowing herself to share this private moment of amusement with her daughter. "Focus, strik soncha. The butterfly will wait. Your balance will not. It is fleeting, like the wind, if you do not hold it firmly within yourself." She gently repositioned Lux's feet, guiding them to a wider, more stable stance, patient as a sculptor with clay, molding her daughter's form. She helped her small hands find a proper grip on the staff, wrapping her own strong fingers around Lux's. "This is your anchor, Lux. It keeps you steady. It is part of you, like your own two feet, always there to steady you."

Lux nodded, trying again, her blue eyes now fixed on her feet, then on the staff, then back to Lexa, seeking approval. "Like a tree?" she asked, swaying slightly, testing the analogy, her mind already making connections. "With big, strong roots that go all the way down into the earth?"

"Sha, exactly like a tree," Lexa affirmed, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips, a warmth that seemed to fill the very air around them. "With roots deep in the earth, holding it against anything that tries to uproot it. That is how a warrior stands. Grounded. Unmoving."

They tried a simple parry. Lexa, with infinite patience, held a padded stick out, inviting Lux to tap it with her staff. The stick was soft, designed for children, posing no threat. Lux swung, but her aim was off, her movements more of a playful swat at an imaginary fly than a focused strike. She giggled, then spun around, her arms outstretched, staff trailing behind her like a tail, a blur of motion and laughter. "Whee! I'm a bird, Nomon! I'm flying!" she exclaimed, twirling in circles, her laughter bubbling up, filling the usually austere space with pure, unadulterated joy.

Lexa watched, a flicker of something akin to exasperation crossing her face. This was so profoundly different from the disciplined, eager natblidas she was accustomed to. They absorbed every command, every correction, their minds innately calculating angles and vulnerabilities. They were instruments of war, honed and precise. Lux, however, was a whirlwind of unchanneled energy, her mind skipping from one playful thought to the next. She was an untamed force who saw possibilities in everything around her, not simply for what they are but for what they could be. She wasn't seeing a target; she was seeing the sky.

"Lux," Lexa said, her voice firm, but with a hint of a smile she couldn't entirely suppress, a warmth that softened the edges of her command, making it an invitation rather than a decree. "Warriors do not fly. They stand. They fight. They are grounded. They face what comes, head-on, with courage and resolve."

Lux stopped, her bright eyes suddenly serious, the playful energy momentarily subdued, replaced by a thoughtful frown that deepened the lines on her small brow. She looked at the staff, then at Lexa, a deep question forming in her mind. "But what if the warrior needs to fly away from the bad guys?" she asked, her voice quiet but earnest, a profound innocence in her tone. "Not to run, Nomon, but to escape a trap? To find a way around them? Or fly to help someone far away, someone who needs them very much, because they are too weak?"

Her questions were not challenges to Lexa's authority, but genuine inquiries, a reflection of Clarke’s influence in their daughter's life. Lux asked questions born from a mind that sought solutions beyond the immediate, physical confrontation, a mind that valued ingenuity and compassion as much as brute force, a perfect blend of both of her mothers.

Lexa paused, her own worldview, so long rigid and unyielding, suddenly challenged by the innocent wisdom of a child in a way even her houmon could not. A new perspective dawned on her, a subtle but profound shift in her understanding of what true strength entailed. Lux wasn't a warrior in the making, not in the traditional, brutal sense Lexa understood, not a natblida destined solely for combat. Her mind worked differently. Gazing into her daughter’s eyes, Lexa saw Clarke’s compassion reflecting back at her. Lux didn't see only the fight, but the purpose behind it, the people who needed saving, the larger tapestry of their world.

"You are right, strik soncha," Lexa conceded, a genuine smile finally breaking through, illuminating her face, a rare sight that warmed the entire arena, chasing away the lingering austerity. "Sometimes, a warrior needs to be clever. To find a different way beyond the blade, beyond what is expected. To use their mind to outwit and to use their heart to protect what is most fragile." She picked up the small wooden staff, then gently tapped Lux's head with it, a gesture of profound affection and recognition, a blessing. "Your mind, ai yongon, is your greatest weapon. It can solve problems that a sword cannot. And your tombom," she added, touching Lux's chest, just over her small, beating heart, feeling its steady rhythm, a pulse of pure goodness, "your greatest shield. It will tell you who to protect, and why. It will guide your mind to the right solutions, ensuring your strength is always used for justice and kindness."

Lux beamed, her face alight with understanding and elation, a radiant glow that outshone the brightest star. Her eyes sparkled with newfound purpose, a tiny strategist already forming her own unique code, a warrior of a different kind. "So, I can be a warrior that flies and helps?" she clarified, her voice filled with hope.

Lexa chuckled, a rare, warm sound that echoed softly in the usually silent training ground, a sound that spoke of a peace deeper than any treaty, a peace found not in conquest, but in connection, in the simple, profound bond of family. "Sha, strik soncha. You can be whatever kind of warrior the world needs you to be. Whatever kind of warrior you want to be. A warrior of the mind and of the heart. And sometimes," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a secret shared between them, "even a warrior who flies, not just to conquer an enemy, but to liberate all our people."

Lux then wrapped her small arms around Lexa's waist, clinging to her, her face buried in the soft leather, the training forgotten in favor of imagination and comfort. "Can we play flying now, Nomon?" she whispered, her voice muffled against Lexa's leathers.

"Sha, strik soncha ," Lexa said, scooping Lux into her arms, the small wooden staff falling forgotten to the dusty earth, a testament to a lesson learned, a new seed planted and nourished to one day be a mighty oak of the forest. She held her daughter close, feeling the small, trusting weight in her arms, her own heart expanding, a sensation both unfamiliar and deeply cherished. "Let's fly."

As mother and daughter flew out of the arena, Lexa understood something new and profound. Lux might not be a natural warrior in the way of the natblidas, destined for the conclave, a brutal fight for the flame, but true to her name, Lux embodies a different kind of power: a guiding light. It was a strength rooted in empathy, in curiosity, in the boundless potential of a mind unburdened by rigid tradition. And perhaps, one day, that soncha would guide them all towards a future built not just on survival and the sharp edge of a blade, not just on treaties and fragile truces, but on ingenuity, compassion, and a different kind of courage—the courage to imagine a better way, and the heart to fight for it with every fiber of one's being. The future of Polis, of all Kongeda, Lexa realized, might not look like the past, and that, perhaps, was the greatest lesson Lux would teach Heda.

Trigedasleng Vocabulary
Nomon-Mother
Natblidas - Nightbloods
Strik soncha - Little Light 
Sha - Yes
Houmon - Wife or Partner
Ai yongon - my daughter/child
Tombom - heart
Soncha - light
Kongeda - Coalition

Chapter Text

The Polis Tower apartment was steeped in the stillness of deep night. The sacred quiet that lingered after Lexa’s last meeting and before Clarke’s first clinic rounds. Outside, the city slept. Wind whispered through the tall, arched windows, stirring the curtains with barely a breath.

A scream, sharp and raw, cut through the air like an arrow piercing a heart.

Clarke’s eyes flew open. She was moving before thought could form, bare feet on cold stone, her heart pounding like a war drum. Another scream followed, closer this time. Desperate. Wrong.

She ran.

“Lux!”

She burst into the room just ahead of Lexa. The light was dim, but she didn’t need more. She could feel the panic before she saw it.

Lux was upright in bed, tangled in furs, her cheeks wet with tears. She looked around frantically, gasping, chest rising too fast.

Clarke dropped to her knees beside the bed, reaching to gather her close. “I’m here. I’ve got you, it’s okay—”

But Lux flinched, then shoved at her with both hands. The movement knocked Clarke slightly off balance. She brought her hands up to steady herself, more to give Lux space than out of surprise.

“Nou! Ai gaf nomon in. Nomon, beja. Ai gaf yu in!” (No! I want nomon. Nomon, please. I want you.)

Lexa was already there. She didn’t speak. She simply crossed the space, knelt beside the bed, and opened her arms, waiting, solid, calm, already trusted. Lux didn’t hesitate. She launched herself forward, clinging with shaking arms, her face pressed into Lexa’s shoulder.

Clarke didn’t move far. She stayed within reach, prepared to offer whatever comfort Lux might still need. She let herself be moved by the scene unfolding in front of her. Lux wasn’t turning away from her. She was turning toward what would make the fear stop. Clarke understood that. Welcomed it. Because Lux didn’t just want Lexa. She needed her. And Clarke would never stand in the way of something that brought her daughter peace.

“Shh, strik soncha,” she murmured, voice low and steady. “Ai laik hir. Ai kamp raun otaim.” (Shh, little light… I’m here. I’m always here.)

Lexa held Lux close, one hand stroking her curls, the other steady at her back. Clarke struggled to hear Lexa’s hushed words, but it didn’t matter, because they were not meant for her.

Clarke sat back on her feet, hands resting in her lap. She let Lexa take up the space and just watched. There was no jealousy or sorrow. Only gratitude. Because her partner was the fiercest warrior alive, and also the gentlest force in the world. And in this moment, Lux needed all of her. Lexa was their little light’s shield. The one who could hold back the haunting shadows that still clouded their world.

Lux’s sobs slowed, her breaths still shaky but beginning to steady. But when Lexa tried to ease her down onto the bed, Lux’s fingers fisted into her tunic, holding fast. Terror, once it had taken hold, couldn’t be chased away by a hug. Lexa’s presence was still the only thing preventing the darkness from swallowing her light.

“Hod op. Nou, nomon. Nou gon ai we.” (Wait. No, nomon. Don’t leave me.)

Lexa pressed her lips to her temple. “Osir na nou ban yu au. Nowe.” (We won’t leave you. Ever.)

Clarke rose quietly as Lexa looked up. Their eyes met, but no words passed between them. They didn’t need any.

Clarke stepped ahead to lead the way, while Lexa followed, still cuddling Lux. At the bedchamber, she folded back the furs while Lexa eased Lux gently down between them.

Lux said nothing. She just clung, limp, warm, but not quite asleep. Her small body curled tighter against Lexa, as if the steady rhythm of her nomon’s breath might hold the fear at bay. 

Clarke slid in beside her, careful and close, tucking the furs around them before resting a hand against Lux’s back. At first, her daughter remained tense. But Clarke let her hand move, rubbing slow, comforting circles. Then, slowly, beneath the tender, steady touch, her shoulders softened, and her grip on Lexa loosened just slightly. 

“I love you,” Clarke whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to her hair.

No one said anything after that. There was only breath and warmth. It was the kind of quiet that made fear retreat.

Lexa rested her hand gently against the back of Lux’s head. Breaking the silence, she murmured, “Yu ste klir.” (You’re safe.) And in response, Lux’s breath evened out as sleep had claimed her once again. 

Then, almost as if to herself, Lexa added, “She felt threatened. And she called for me.”

Clarke didn’t hesitate. “She’s not the only one who reaches for you.”

Silence settled between them. Not heavy. Just full.

Trigedasleng Translations

Nou! Ai gaf nomon in. Nomon, beja. Ai gaf yu in! — No! I want nomon. Nomon, please. I want you.
Strik soncha — Little Light
Ai laik hir. Ai kamp raun otaim. — I’m here. I’m always here.
Hod op. Nou, nomon. Nou gon ai we. — Wait. No, nomon. Don’t leave me.
Osir na nou ban yu au. Nowe. — We won’t leave you. Ever.
Yu ste klir. — You’re safe.