should feel like fiction to Lexa, surely something to be read out of one of her
books: a fantasy for the ages with class conflict and forbidden bonds and
cloaked men with plots to thwart the heroes’ attempts to make change. The circumstances
are unbelievable enough to be compelling- that one can truly care enough about
another person to put themselves at risk is something she never before
experienced firsthand- and yet the reality of it all is what keeps her moving
forward, flipping the pages on this ill-advised novelization of a future
times it’s the only part of her life that feels real. All day she studies
theory and long-past history and strategy for potential battles and decorum for meetings she
won’t make until she’s ascended. It’s simulation, performance, practice for
situations that don’t yet exist. She’s out of touch with reality on a
visits are a reminder of what’s out there, beyond what she’s seen and what she can
imagine. They talk of Clarke’s friends and Lexa’s confronted with the very real
struggles for basic necessities her people endure while Lexa learns how to
tackle boundary disputes and bow properly. They speak of her dealings with the Thieves’
Guild and Lexa realizes the desperation of the community Clarke was raised in,
circumstances created by a culture they’re excluded from.
reminds her that she has to do better because there are people depending on it,
and that itself grounds her efforts in something more substantial than logic
involving words like “legacy” and “destiny”.
doesn’t have to lie about what she’s thinking when she’s with Clarke, be it political revolution or tenderness (both of which remain unfit for a princess by all accounts).
shouldn’t be so fantastical.
tower-climbing, though, can’t be interpreted in any way other than