Just Surviving (#Clexa)

Wanheda

I'm still alive. Suppose that's something to be grateful for.

My wrists hurt from the rope binding them and the corners of my mouth ache from the gag, but all in all I'm perfectly fine. Maybe it would be better if I weren't; if I were dead. Somehow, I doubt that I'm being taken somewhere nice and safe by this Ice Nation beast of a man.

The drip-drip of water and the crackling of the fire have me on edge – not to mention the shouting and drumming in the distance – and I press my back harder against the wall behind me as I glower across the dark room at my captor. He killed his own people to keep me alive. In fact, had I not been with him, I would most certainly be dead by now. But then again... isn't he delivering me to my death anyway? He's Ice Nation too, and it's obvious he's expecting some sort of reward for me. Why else go through all the trouble?

I've heard a few snatches of conversation from different grounder settlements over the past few months of my traveling through their territory. There's a huge bounty on my head, and nearly every Grounder with nothing to lose is after me. After my antics at Mount Weather, I've become known as "Wanheda" – a name which, despite my improvements in Grounder dialects, I still can't seem to understand. I'd been very much aware of the danger I was in, especially since I'd been surrounding myself with Grounders, so the red hair dye had been a life saver. It was yet another priceless item sold to me by Niylah.

Momentarily, I'm overwhelmed with worry for her. She'd lied to keep me hidden time and time again. She'd protected me even though it should have been against her primitive nature. She'd kissed me and made love to me despite how much I knew she should despise me. And now... now, she could be dead. I shouldn't have left. Or maybe I should have left earlier.

After Mount Weather, I've become no better than the Grounders. I'm a murderer and a coward – I made a terrible decision in order to save my friends and family, and now I'm forced to live with the aftermath. My mom would still love me, I know, and I still have people like Bellamy who trust me, but I have a feeling that their faith is very much misguided. The girl who stepped off the drop-ship and felt Earth beneath her feet for the very first time is a stranger to the one I am now.

Victory stands upon the back of sacrifice.

Somehow, I'd become a leader. Somehow, I'd thought that it entitled me to decide what sacrifices should be made. My first mistake was joining forces with the Heda. My second was trusting her. I allowed myself to be blind.

Love is weakness.

A shiver runs through me as I remember those words, wishing they didn't have to be true. Hating the person who'd said them to me.

Goddamn you, Lexa. Goddamn you for making me exactly like you.

Again, I lift my eyes to glare at the Ice Nation man. He's slid a dagger into the fire, and as he straightens up and gasps at the pain in his side, I allow myself a flicker of satisfaction. If I'd aimed a little to the right, he'd be dead. He'd been weakening all the way here.

With slight curiosity, I watch as he limps towards the doorway of our underground chamber, carefully pulling his undershirt over his head. His whole body is rippled with muscle, smeared with dirt and blood. Everything about him reminds me of a lion – he's regal and deadly. As much as I like to dream of it, I know that I'll never get another chance to strike him.

'Another inch and I'd be dead,' he calls, his voice surprisingly even.

My eyes, which had drifted over to the fire in thought, return to his heavily scarred and tattooed back. He's examining his wound in the light shining in through the bars, breath catching from the pain. The healer in me feels a sudden pang of guilt, but I push it back firmly.