The campfire flickered between you, throwing jagged shadows across Lexa’s face. The war horns had sounded hours ago—by dawn, battle would come. The wind carried the metallic scent of sharpening blades, the murmurs of warriors preparing for the fight of their lives. You sat on a fallen log, your jaw tight, arms crossed. Lexa stood, arms behind her back, her expression unreadable.

“You should leave,”

Lexa said finally, breaking the thick silence.

You scoffed.

“Not happening.”

“You have no place in this fight, Clarke. Skaikru isn’t ready. Your people—”

“My people will stand,”

You snapped.

“We’re not running.”

Lexa exhaled slowly, like she was reigning herself in.

“This isn’t just about standing. It’s about surviving.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

You stood abruptly.

“I know what this war means. You think I came here because I want to die?”

Lexa’s eyes flickered, but she held her ground.

“I think you came here because you don’t know what else to do.”

You took a step forward.

“Don’t act like I’m some lost girl who doesn’t understand what’s at stake. I made my choice.”

“And I’m telling you it was the wrong one.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Because you get to decide what’s right?”

Lexa’s jaw clenched.

“I am the Commander. I do decide.”

„Then decide to trust me.”

*Silence. Tension. The fire crackled, but neither of them looked away.

“You think this is about trust?”

Lexa finally said, voice low and sharp.

“This is war, Clarke. There is no room for hesitation. No room for fear. No room for—”

She stopped herself.

You narrowed your eyes.

“No room for what, Lexa?”

Lexa turned away, her posture rigid.

“Go back to your camp. Get your people ready. Stay out of my way.”

You tried to stand your ground and talk back but Lexa’s guards already came in and guided you out.