Octavia goes to Clarke’s room and from the look on Clarke’s face knows that Lexa offered to let Wanheda stay. Octavia says they need to stop Pike, together, that they need Clarke to come and lead them.
Octavia says she has an hour to decide, to say her goodbyes. She gives her a meeting place and Clarke nods, obviously still undecided. Before she leaves, Octavia says if Clarke doesn’t come with her back to the Ark, she’s not the person she thought she was. And maybe she isn’t. But maybe that’s okay. Even though I want the Clarktavia friendship to stay strong, and I think they’re on the same side, I think they both have very different motives and ideas.
Anyway, Clarke goes to see Lexa to tell her whether she will stay or go. Lexa’s hair is down, her armor is off, and she knows from the look on Clarke’s face that she’s leaving. She accepts it, asking simply when she has to go, which is now. Clarke steps towards Lexa and apologizes, but Lexa understands. “That’s why I —,” she says. But now’s not the time, not if Clarke is leaving, not if it’s over. “That’s why you’re you.”
Clarke gives her the “maybe someday” speech, saying if they met in a different time or place, if they were just two girls who met when one fell from the skai, if they weren’t Heda and Wanheda, things would have been different. But maybe someday, when this all blows over, when they have peace. Maybe someday. Lexa says she hopes so, her voice kinder and gentler than it’s ever been. She holds out her arm, and they shake like trikru shakes, and Lexa says softly, “May we meet again.”
But Clarke doesn’t want maybe someday. She doesn’t want the world around them to decide anything for her. So she leans forward and kisses Lexa.
Finally. Finally.
They pull back, and Lexa cannot believe it. She’s hoped and waited for this moment since the first time they kissed, the first time Clarke promised maybe someday. When Clarke spit in her face when she first came to Polis, Lexa’s hope turned into a dream. Unlikely, but still something to hope for. Maybe someday.
But it’s no mistake, and it’s no dream, it’s as real as it gets, and Clarke kisses her some more, and starts to remove Lexa’s clothes. Their kisses are desperate, longing, but somehow still gentle. Like taking a long sip of cold water after a hot, dry day. You don’t want to waste it by going too fast or being too rough, but you need it, you need it. They move toward the bed, and Lexa sits down, looking up at Clarke, making sure the decision is hers and hers alone, but without having to say a single word. Clarke is sure, and she leans down, laying them both back on the bed.
After, basking in the glow of their love, Clarke runs her fingers down Lexa’s arm tattoos like they’re in some kind of fanfiction. Clarke starts to say that she really should leave soon, but Lexa shushes her. She wants to enjoy this.
So Clarke’s fingers continue their journey, tracing a different tattoo down Lexa’s back, calling it beautiful and asking its significance. Lexa says she got it on her Ascension day, and that there’s a circle for everyone who died at her conclave. Clarke thinks there’s one missing, but Lexa would like to discuss literally anything else than the children she had to murder to become the next Commander. Clarke says she’s a big fan of not talking, and Lexa smiles the rarest and brightest of smiles.
There is no war, there is blood, there is no death. There is no Trikru and Skaikru; there is no Titus or Pike. There is only Clarke and Lexa, together.
