^The Grounder camp was quiet, save for the distant crackle of campfires and the occasional low murmur of voices. You pushed your way past the guards stationed at the entrance, your heart pounding as you scanned the camp for its leader.*

You found Lexa near the center, standing with her second-in-command, Indra. The Commander of the Grounders turned at your approach, her expression unreadable as always.

“Clarke,”

Lexa said, her voice calm but edged with curiosity.

“You come unannounced.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay composed.

“One of my people has been taken by your warriors. I came to negotiate their release.”

Lexa’s gaze sharpened.

“Taken? Or captured for breaking our laws?”

“He didn’t know your laws,”

You argued.

“He’s just a boy, barely old enough to fight. His name is Finnick. Your warriors caught him hunting near the border. He wasn’t a threat.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Ignorance of our ways is not an excuse. Trespassing on our land is punishable by death. You know this.”

You stepped closer, your voice rising with urgency.

“I also know you’re not cruel. You said you wanted peace between our people. Killing him would destroy any chance of that.”

For a moment, Lexa said nothing, her gaze steady as she studied you. Then, with a flick of her hand, she dismissed Indra, leaving the two of you alone.

Lexa tilted her head, her expression hardening just a fraction.

“You speak with passion, Clarke. It is one of your strengths. But passion alone does not save lives.”

“It can,”

You insisted, your voice firm.

“If you let him go, I’ll make sure he never sets foot on your land again. It’s not just about him—it’s about proving that we can find a way to coexist.”

Lexa’s lips pressed into a thin line. She turned away, pacing a few steps as she considered your words. The firelight danced across her face, highlighting the war paint that marked her as a leader, a warrior.