Chapter Text
Clarke Griffin was only thirteen years old when she was crowned princess of Arkadia, still pimply and gangly and awkward, though unique in her leadership and privilege. She was one of the few in their nation that had earned the honor of being called royalty. Along with her was Wells Jaha, who was the son of Chancellor Thelonious Jaha and Clarke’s best friend, and Bellamy Blake, who was born without their privilege, but not without the ability to lead or the strategic intelligence that all leaders must bear.
They were the three heirs to the throne now, all of whom had proven their worth through multiple tests and trials. Only these three had passed each and every one of them. Clarke was the youngest and her parents couldn’t have been more proud as they watched her bow for the delicate tiara to be placed in her blonde locks.
Clarke’s heart hammered in her chest as King Marcus Kane placed it on her head and asked her to repeat her pledge to their nation; to protect their people and lead them into greatness; to solve all their problems to the best of her ability, with grace and logical thinking. And, if it were to be so, to accept the title of Queen if and when the time came for Kane to pass on the crown. The boys repeated the same pledge and all three stood before their friends, family, and fellow citizens as they cheered for them and chanted their names.
Clarke felt a swell of pride well up in her chest, even as nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
“Your Highness,” Clarke looked up as a familiar face entered the throne room, her spine straightening at the sight of Thelonious Jaha, the Chancellor. She was seventeen now, and had heard many complaints and concerns from her people over the last few years, having been on rotation with the boys. It was sometimes tedious, but always rewarding (or so she told herself).
Still, Chancellor Jaha had never come to her before.
“Yes, Chancellor?” Clarke asked, watching as Jaha rose, his head still bowed out of respect. “What brings you here today?”
“Your Highness,” Jaha replied, “there seems to be a dispute.”
“With our kingdom?” Clarke asked, confused as to why the Chancellor was bringing this up to her, rather than the king. Disputes were not yet her place.
“No, Highness,” Jaha said. “The dispute lies between Azgeda and Trigeda.” Clarke nodded in recognition; the two nations had their own rulings systems, but Arkadia had stepped in, time and again, to help them sort out their differences. “Queen Nia, it seems, has once again threatened war on Polis and the Grounders are requesting our intervention.”
Clarke’s eyes widened. That was new. Rarely did the Grounders of Trigeda ever call upon Arkadia for help. More often than not, Arkadia stepped in without asking and forged treaties between the two nations—which many of the Arkadians described as “savage” and uncivilized.
“Have you informed King Marcus of this?” Clarke asked, knowing that it was best to always have him in the know.
Jaha nodded. “He requested that I bring it to you. He wants to know if you have any sort of plan to solve this dilemma.”
Clarke felt her palms begin to sweat as the stress overtook her. How would she solve a situation like this? Azgeda and Trigeda had been sworn enemies since nearly the beginning of the nations. They had been fighting for at least as long as Clarke had been alive and she didn’t think that she would be able to stop that anytime soon. Still, Jaha looked at her with trust and hope in her eyes and Clarke nodded, firmly.
“Bring both the Commander of Trigeda and Queen Nia to Arkadia,” she said. “And the princes and I will hear both sides of the argument and decide, together, what is to be done.”
Jaha nodded, smiling proudly. “At once, Highness,” he said, with a deep bow, before turning and walking out of the throne room.
As soon as he was gone, Clarke slumped in her chair, closing her eyes for a long moment, before opening them again and looking over at her guard on the far left wall. “Miller,” she said and the young man perked up at once, heading toward her.
“Yes, your Highness?’ he asked, bowing slightly.
“Call for Wells and Bellamy,” she said. “Tell them that the leaders of Trigeda and Azgeda will be coming to see us soon and we need to come up with a solution for their latest quarrel, together. Tell them to hurry.”
“Yes, Highness,” Miller said, bowing again, before he made his way out of the room. Clarke slumped down in her chair again and tried to calm the butterflies that had once again started to flutter in the base of her stomach.
You can do this.
By the time Chancellor Jaha had entered the throne room again, Bellamy sat to her left and Wells, to her right. King Marcus stood to the side, guarded on all sides.
“Are they here?” Clarke asked, calmly; regally.
Jaha nodded. “Queen Nia is here,” he said. “And the most recent Commander of Trigeda is, as well.”
“Most recent?” Clarke asked.
“She’s only just recently ascended, Highness,” he informed her. “Less than a year ago now. She’s young, but don’t let that fool you.”
“As long as she gives us the same courtesy,” Clarke replied, lifting one eyebrow. The boys nodded in agreement. “Bring them in.”
Jaha nodded and nodded to the guards to open up the doors. “Princess Clarke, Prince Bellamy, and Prince Wells,” he said, “I bring you Queen Nia of Azgeda.”
Immediately, a woman dressed in gray and blue-dyed furs entered the room, her eyes heavy with eyeliner and wrinkles lining her face. Everything about her was cold, Clarke couldn’t help but notice, from her icy blue eyes, to the thin set of her lips, to the pale white of her skin. She looked to be made of ice and suddenly Clarke understood the nickname her people had given to Azgeda.
Ice Nation.
“Welcome, your Majesty,” Clarke greeted, standing and bowing her head. The boys followed suit and then they all sat.
Queen Nia raised one eyebrow and then glanced over at King Marcus. “Have you retired already?” she mocked. “Have you become soft, Marcus? Are you too scared to face me, yourself?”
“One of these three is the future ruler of Arkadia, Nia,” Marcus replied. “I must loosen the reigns a little bit and give them a little more responsibility. You are good in their hands, I swear it.”
Nia scoffed, disbelievingly, but she did bow, however quickly, in greeting and semi-respect.
“And,” Jaha said, getting back on track, “Commander Lexa, of Trigeda.”
With much less haste than the woman before her came a young woman with long, dark brown hair, and cool green eyes, dressed all in black, with a sword at her left side. With her walked two warriors. On her left was a man nearly twice her size, with a long, braided beard, and tattoos on his face, though his eyes betrayed a softness when he looked down at her, like a father. Clarke dismissed the idea, however, remembering in her studies that most Commanders are raised to be as such in Trigeda—they have no connection to the parents that birthed them. Surely, though, this was the man who had raised her.
The other warrior was female, with dark-as-night skin and serious brown eyes that stared straight ahead, daring anybody to get too close to her charge. She, too, had weapons on her body, and looked all too eager to use them.
Commander Lexa bowed at once. “Your Highnesses,” she said, in a low, respectful voice.
“Heda,” Clarke replied, bowing in reply, using the word for ‘Commander’ in their native tongue. “Welcome.” She looked to Queen Nia. “Both of you. We understand that you have had another disagreement?”
Lexa nodded, mutely, but Queen Nia dove headfirst into a complaint of how the Commander had asked her to join their alliance and become the twelfth clan, as if she needed any kind of protection from a nineteen-year-old child, who couldn’t lead an army, much less a nation and how disgusted she was that Lexa would even bring up the very idea that—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bellamy said, interrupting. “That’s what this is all about? You threatened war because the Commander offered you a spot in her alliance? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“Bellamy!” Clarke hissed, glaring at him.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, “but doesn’t that just sound a little ridiculous to you?”
“It doesn’t matter how it sounds to us,” Clarke reminded him. “The problem is between Azgeda and Trigeda; we are simply mediators.”
“Smart girl, Marcus,” Nia complimented. “You may have just found your successor.” Marcus smiled with pride. “And how dare you, boy, question my authority? I am a Queen and you are just a lowly prince; no older than my own useless boy. I demand an apology at once.”
“An apology?” Bellamy asked. “For what?”
“For your blatant disrespect!”
“But I—”
“Prince Bellamy!” Clarke exclaimed, glaring at him. “Apologize.”
Bellamy sighed and straightened his back, looking into Queen Nia’s eyes, his face devoid of all emotion—even regret. “My apologies, Queen Nia. I spoke without thinking.”
“Typical,” the queen replied with a huff. “Now, what do you suppose we do about this, then? How are you all going to stop a war? You’re barely out of diapers.”
“We could come to a compromise,” Clarke suggested. “Find out how working together could benefit both of your nations. For instance, Queen Nia, what is one thing that you would like from Trigeda?”
“A wife,” the queen replied and Clarke watched Commander Lexa’s face turn red with annoyance. “For my son,” Nia added. “Only then will I join Heda’s alliance.”
“I’ve already told you,” Lexa said, turning to Queen Nia. “I have no interest in your son, but I would be more than happy to introduce him to one of my female warriors, if he so pleases.”
“What would the point of a marriage be,” Nia snapped, “if he did not wed a ruler?” Then, she turned to look at Clarke, eyeing her up and down. “What about you?” she asked. “Would you like to marry a prince? One that is not from your own nation.”
Clarke’s eyes widened at that. She’d always assumed she’d marry one of the men at her side—though she felt nothing even remotely romantic towards either of them—or, like the king, she would remain single and choose a successor in a similar manner she was chosen. She’d never imagined she’d get a marriage proposal from a neighboring nation.
“I—”
“The issue does not lie with our nations, your Majesty,” Wells said, standing up, keeping his back straight. “It lies between Azgeda and Trigeda. Any marriage should be between your two nations. Heda Lexa has offered one of her warriors; you should accept.”
“I did not.” Lexa interrupted before the queen could reply. “I offered an introduction. The choice of marriage would be up to them; both parties must consent or there is no deal.”
“You see why we’re here?” Queen Nia hissed, looking up at the three royals. “She refuses to compromise!”
“What exactly would Trigeda get out of such a marriage?” Lexa snapped. “You said yourself that you would rather Prince Roan wed a ruler and if he did, he would be protected under my alliance. None of my clans would dare move against Azgeda, but what protections would you offer us?”
“An heir to Trigeda,” the queen replied, coldly. “Somebody to take over, should anything happen to you.”
“You know not how this works,” Lexa spat at her. “I have multiple heirs; I do not need yours.”
“Then I suppose that means we shall go to war.” With that, the queen turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving everybody watching after her.
When she was gone, Lexa turned back to the three heirs and bowed her head. “My apologies, Highnesses,” she said. “There’s very little arguing with Queen Nia.”
“I don’t understand,” Bellamy said. “Why didn’t you just wed Prince Roan?”
Lexa breathed a deep sigh. “I have no interest in men,” she said, bluntly. “Even if we were to wed for the alliance, I would never bear his children. Azgeda would have no heirs after him. Besides that,” she went on, “Roan is under the control of his mother and always will be. To wed him would be to hand power over to her and I cannot do that.”
Clarke nodded in understanding. “Understood, Commander,” she said, “but now we have a war on our hands. What do you expect to do about that?”
Lexa’s shoulders slumped for all of a second, before she remembered herself and stood straight. “We could form an alliance, your Highness,” she said. “Arkadia could take Azgeda’s place as the twelfth clan. Our armies far outnumber Azgeda’s alone, but together…Queen Nia would stand no chance against us.”
Clarke considered this, nodding thoughtfully. “Give us a moment, please?” Heda nodded and bowed as they stood and made their way over to King Marcus, conferring with him.
“What do you think?” Clarke whispered. “Is an alliance a good idea?”
“Is that what you think?” Marcus asked, with a small smile. “Remember, this one is yours.”
Clarke sighed. “I’m simply asking your opinion, your Majesty,” she said. “You will still be the king for a long while and if you think, for any reason, that this would not be good for Arkadia, then you must say so now.”
Marcus nodded. “I think it would be a fine idea. Arkadia has been attempting to form an alliance with Trigeda for nearly a century, without any luck. Most commanders don’t trust us and I can’t blame them, really. We’ve had many wars since our nation began.”
“We must give them a reason to trust us, then,” Clarke said. “Like…like a marriage.”
“But you heard the Commander,” Wells said. “She has no interest in men and—no…Clarke?”
Clarke looked away from her best friend’s face and took a deep breath. “It’s the only way,” she said. “If I marry the Commander, then our people would be assured safety and the alliance will hold.”
“Are you sure about this?” King Marcus asked, looking her straight in the eye. “Your mother will kill me herself if I let you do this and we’re not 100% that this is the only way to keep our alliance.”
Clarke nodded. “I’m sure,” she said. “I will wed the Commander of the eleven—twelve clans. For my people.” She straightened up. “It’s the only way.”
With that, Clarke walked back to her throne and stood before the Commander, who stared up at her with those cool green eyes, waiting. Clarke waited for the boys to join her before addressing the Commander.
“Lexa Kom Trigeda,” she started, “I would like to offer a proposal of marriage.” Lexa’s eyes widened at that. “It would ensure that our alliance is kept by both sides, and it would join our armies in the fight against Azgeda, however long it will be.”
“And after we’ve declared victory over Azgeda?” the woman on Lexa’s right asked. “Will you abandon Heda and our alliance?”
“Never,” Clarke promised. “Once the Commander and I are joined in marriage, we will be eternally united. As will the alliance. I swear it.” She turned to look Lexa in the eyes and could see a slight flush on the girl’s cheeks. “What say you, Commander?” she asked. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife—and I, yours—and joining our two nations?”
Lexa took a deep breath, her hands locking behind her back, and nodded once, slowly.
“I accept your proposal,” she said. Clarke gave her a shaky smile and nodded, stepping down from the platform and making her way to the Commander. Once she was but two feet away, she kneeled at Lexa’s feet, bowing her head.
“Thank you, Commander,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. There was silence for a long moment, and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, Clarke found her face only inches from the Commander’s, her hand held out for her. Clarke took it and was immediately pulled to her feet.
“One thing you must remember, as my wife,” Lexa said, “is that we are equals in every way. Never forget.” Clarke nodded and offered a shy smile, her fingers still interlocked with Lexa’s. She turned so that they stood side by side, looking up at the men on the platform. Bellamy and Wells were looking at her with concern etched in their features, but King Marcus was smiling, knowingly.
“Wonderful!” he said. “You shall be married at sunset tomorrow. Tonight, we will celebrate! Heda, feel free to invite your clans to join us for a feast.”
Lexa nodded. “Thank you, your Majesty,” she said. “I will.” She looked at Clarke. “I’ll see you later?” Clarke nodded, feeling a slight flush come over her own features at the look in Lexa’s eyes. Lexa smiled and raised Clarke’s hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss there.
“Leidon, ai tombom.”
Clarke felt something flutter in her chest at the emotion in the words, her fingers tingling as Lexa dropped her hand and made her way out of the room, her warriors following behind her.The second they were gone, however, she felt the butterflies get replaced by dread as a worrying thought came over her:
How am I going to tell my mother?