She also successfully defended her title as Commander
Won a kickass battle against a prince including some pretty fancy legwork, fake-outs, and sword twirls
Defeated her greatest enemy, both on a personal and on a political level, by hurling a spear in the air and straight into her heart.
The crowd is screaming out her name and her little Nightbloods are practically in tears. The noise of the celebration must be deafening
And she stands alone in the arena.
No one comes out to hug her, no friends give her a victory high-five, no advisors clap her back, no mothers clutch her to their chest in desperate relief that she’s alive. No one even checks if she’s injured. And it’s achingly obvious that there isn’t ever anyone like this. Lexa stands alone in everything she does: she’s Commander of the Blood and she’s leader of the coalition. She’s the deadliest warrior and she’s an untouchable goddess.
(Ai laik Heda. Non na throu daun gon ai) (I am Heda. No one fights for me.)
But this time, maybe for the first time since she was a tiny child fighting with a wooden sword, she dares a look up at the crowd while getting her breathing back under control instead of keeping her eyes on the ground. Chances a glance over to see if Clarke’s still there, if there might be a smile or a nod or even just a split second of relieved eye contact for her. A grain of social comfort in a world where love is weakness and shows of strength are the only thing keeping her people alive.
And there is - oh, thereis. She catches Clarke’s eye and their respiration falls into in unison for a second. And then Lexa squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and takes the deepest of breaths.