The sun hung low in the sky, casting an ominous orange glow over the Blood Arena. The tension was palpable, the air heavy with anticipation. Hundreds of Grounders stood around the ring, their chants a low rumble of war drums that echoed in the distance. You stood at the center, your shoulders squared and your hands steady, despite the whirlwind of emotions within you.

Lexa stood at the edge of the arena, flanked by her advisors, her face a mask of stoic resolve. Her presence was magnetic, yet her eyes betrayed the turmoil raging inside her. You had volunteered to fight on behalf of Skaikru, and Lexa had allowed it—though every fiber of her being screamed against the decision.

“This is madness, Clarke,”

Lexa had said hours earlier in her private chambers.

“The duel is a death sentence.”

You had stood firm, your voice steady but your eyes blazing with determination.

“If I don’t fight, Skaikru will be slaughtered. This is the only way to prove we’re worth standing beside. I’m not asking for permission, Lexa—I’m telling you I’m doing this.”

Now, in the present, You could feel Lexa’s gaze on you as the combatant from the Ice Nation entered the ring. He was a mountain of a man, his face painted in streaks of blue and white, his twin axes gleaming in the dying light. You tightened your grip on the sword in your hand, its weight unfamiliar but comforting in its solidity.

“Let the trial by combat begin!”

*the Flamekeeper announced, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.“

The Ice Nation warrior lunged without warning, his axes slicing through the air with terrifying precision. You barely managed to parry, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through your arms. You stumbled back, your breath coming in short gasps.

Lexa took an involuntary step forward, her breath hitching as the fight grew more brutal. She could see you tiring, your strikes losing power, your defenses weakening.

“Stop this!”

Lexa’s second-in-command hissed in her ear.

“Do not reveal your weakness.”