The Price of Peace

by HeartInAshes

Summary:

Three months after the massacre at Mount Weather, Clarke Griffin is no longer just a survivor—she’s Wanheda, the death-bringer. Hunted, haunted, and hiding in the woods, she’s finally captured and brought to Polis, where Commander Lexa—her former ally and betrayer—offers her an impossible choice: help Skaikru join the Coalition as the 13th clan, or watch everything fall apart. Clarke is forced into the heart of Grounder politics, where allies are scarce, enemies wear crowns, and every gesture is a negotiation. Lexa, burdened by guilt and ruled by duty, begins to unravel her feelings. Amid secret meetings, rising tensions, and the looming threat of Ice Nation, Clarke and Lexa find themselves on opposite sides of a fragile peace—and an undeniable pull. In a world where love is weakness, can they risk everything to save their people... and each other?

Chapter 1

The trees knew her. They knew her blood, her rage, and her grief. They whispered her name with every gust of wind through their branches. Wanheda. Death Bringer. Monster. The Commander of Death. Her name changed depending on who whispered it.

Three months of hiding in the woods had stripped Clarke of what was left of her humanity. There was no more med tent. No more negotiations. No more pretending the blood on her hands could ever be washed away.

Not after Mount Weather.

Not after what she did.

Her hands still shook at night. In dreams, she still stood in the command room, forced to pull the lever to save her friends. She was haunting herself and feared she would never forgive herself.

She hunted her own food now. Slept with her back against stone or a tree and then kept moving. She learned she couldn't stay in one place for too long. They were hunting her. All of them. Trikru, Azgeda, bounty hunters from clans she’d never heard of.

The legend of Wanheda had taken on a life of its own. The rumors said that to kill her was to take her power. As if power were something you could carve from someone’s bones.

The trap that caught her was almost poetic. It was silent, clever, a grounder design. She had just caught sight of a river, maybe a day’s walk from the border of Trishanakru, when the forest went still. Not just quiet—dead.

Clarke froze mid-step. Breath held while her eyes scanned the brush. She never saw the tripwire.

The second her boot brushed it, she was flung off the ground. Ropes tightening around her waist and ankles, dragging her into the tree like a deer in a snare.

She twisted violently, fighting the ropes and net like a wild animal, heart pounding. Voices shouted in Trigedasleng from below. Dark figures emerged. Their movements were swift, efficient, and careful. A hand reached up with a blade and—

Everything went black.

When Clarke awoke, her skull throbbed.

The room around her was dim, lit only by a few torches. Stone walls and iron sconces. Not a dungeon, but not comforting either. There were no windows. Just shadows and silence. And the undeniable, unmistakable scent of Polis.

Her mouth went dry. Her heart began to race—not from fear, but from recognition.

Lexa.

Lexa had her.

She sat on the edge of the small, low cot. Her wrists were no longer bound but had bruises. They were proof that she had, at one point since being captured, been bound tightly in case she awoke early and tried to escape.

Her clothes, while they were still on, had been stripped of anything sharp. Her boots had been replaced with softer shoes. Everything about her surrounding screamed cage dressed as a courtesy.

They wanted her alive. They wanted her to be aware.

Footsteps outside the door alerted. She stood, pulse rising. Every muscle in her body was coiled, ready.

She knew who it would be. She felt it, the same way you feel the storm before it hits.

The door creaked open and there she was. Lexa. Commander Lexa, ruler of twelve clans, destroyer of hearts. Wearing her war leathers like second skin. No guards. Just her.

Her eyes met Clarke’s and held them. A hundred unspoken things crackled between them in that instant. Memories, lies, betrayals, what-ifs.

Clarke didn't blink. Didn't look away. She forced her voice steady and cold.

“So. You finally came to collect your prize.” Clarke spit.

Lexa flinched. It was small, barely noticeable. But Clarke saw it.

“I didn’t have you brought here as a prisoner,” Lexa said quietly. Her voice barely above a whisper.

“Really?” Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “Because this sure looks like a cell.”

Lexa stepped closer, stopping just a few feet from her.

“I told them not to bind you, not to hurt you.”

“Oh,” Clarke snapped, “How generous. Thank you so much, commander”

Lexa swallowed. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone.”

“So you have bounty hunters sent after me?” Clarke asked, her voice laced with anger. “After everything, you think I’d want to hear a damn word you have to say?”

Lexa didn’t flinch this time. Her voice was steady. “I think you deserve to say what you need to say. And I…” Her breath hitched slightly. “I need to say things, too.”

Clarke crossed her arms, forcing herself not to scream. Or cry. “You left me to die, Lexa. You used me. You stood beside me and then turned your back when it mattered most.”

“I did,” Lexa’s voice faltered. “I know, I live with that every day.”

Silence filled the air momentarily.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she added. “For my people.”

Clarke’s eyes burned. “And what about my people?”

The words felt an arrow to the chest. Lexa took a step back, remembering the same words Clarke uttered at Mount Weather.

“I never stopped thinking about you, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice softened, almost pleading. “I left you but I never stopped-”

“Don’t” Clarke cut her off, voice sharp and breaking all at once. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Lexa’s jaw clenched. She looked down, then back up. Her eyes shimmered in the torch light. Clarke could feel the heat and anger behind her own eyes and hoped Lexa could feel it too.

“I should kill you,” Clarke whispered.

Lexa didn’t move. “Then why haven’t you?”

The question hung between them like a knife. Clarke didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to. Not yet.

Chapter 2

The cell of a room wasn’t dark, but it felt like dusk had seeped into the stone.

Clarke sat on the cot, legs pulled to her chest, staring at the flame in the corner sconce. It had been hours—maybe longer—since Lexa left. She hadn’t returned. No guards came. No food. No sound.

Just silence and her thoughts.

That was the worst part. There was no one to fight. Nothing to stitch. No one to save. Just memories.

The screaming. The red lights. Bellamy’s hand hovering over hers as they pulled the lever together. She did what she had to do but that didn’t mean she had forgiven herself.

The door creaked open again.

Clarke didn’t look up at first. She didn’t want to see Lexa, not again. Not so soon.

“Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was soft but commanding. “Look at me.”

Clarke looked up to see Lexa not wearing her armor this time.

“Back so soon?” Clarke asked, keeping her voice flat and emotionless. “Or did you forget to finish your apology?”

Lexa stepped fully inside the room, gently closing the door behind her before she began, “I didn’t come to apologize.”

Clarke scoffed. Anger began to fill her again as she looked away.

“I came to explain,” Lexa stated as she walked over to a chair placed across from the cot, sitting so she was facing Clarke.

“You already did.” Clarke looked up, eyes sharp and full of anger. “You chose your people.”

“And I would do it again,” Lexa replied.

There it was. The truth, like a blade between Clarke’s ribs.

“But,” Lexa added, quietly, “I would find a different way.”

Hearing that made Clarke pause. She looked closer at Lexa, she looked tired. Not just physically but tired in her soul. The way Clarke felt sometimes, when the guilt became a second skin.

“Do you know what they call you now?” Lexa asked, voice soft.

Clarke didn’t respond.

“Wanheda. Commander of Death. Even my people fear you.”

Clarke’s lips curled bitterly. “Good”

“They believe that killing you will grant them your strength.” Lexa’s eyes met hers. “That’s why I had to get to you first.”

Clarke stood suddenly. Her voice was low and dangerous. “You mean you wanted to lock me up before someone else got the chance to kill me?”

“No,” Lexa said firmly. “I want to keep you alive.”

That stopped Clarke cold.

“I made a mistake, Clarke,” Lexa whispered. “But I never wanted you dead.”

Clarke swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Why do you care now? You made it clear at Mount Weather that feelings are weakness.”

“I was wrong,” Lexa said. The admission hung in the air, heavy and trembling.

“I thought if I let myself feel something for you, it would destroy me. That love would make me vulnerable. That it would break me.”

Clarke’s breath hitched. “And now?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Lexa stood and took a step closer.

“And now, I’m already broken.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Clarke stared at her, at the faint scar on her brow, the tightness in her jaw, the way her eyes never left hers. She hated her. She wanted to hate her. But hate and love were too close and right now, Clarke wasn’t sure which one was winning.

Lexa let out a sigh and took a step back before she continued. “I’m convening the Coalition,” she said as her voice shifted back to her emotionless, commander voice. “To propose something unprecedented.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I want Skaikru to join the Coalition,” Lexa paused. “As the thirteenth clan.”

The words crashed into Clarke like a wave.

“You want… what?”

“If your people are to survive, they must have a seat at the table. A voice. And you,” Lexa paused. Her eyes burning into Clarke’s. “You would be that voice. Their representative.”
Clarke blinked, stunned. “Why would you offer this?”

“Because I don’t want another war,” Lexa said. “Because you and I… we understand each other. And because I want peace.”

Clarke shook her head, dazed. “Peace? After everything? You think I’ll just forget what you did? That my people will forget what you did?

“No,” Lexa said simply. “But maybe they will accept it, in time. And maybe you will, too.”

Clarke couldn’t respond. Couldn’t think. Her entire world had just shifted in two sentences.

Lexa turned to leave, then paused in the doorway.

“For what it’s worth,” Lexa said quietly, “I meant every word last night.”

Then she was gone and Clarke was left alone. Again. But this time, her cell didn't feel quite as cold.

Chapter 3

The air in Polis was sharp with tension. Even the sky felt watchful, as though it too, sensed the weight of what was coming.

Inside the tower, preparations for the summit were underway. The tower’s workers darted in and out of chambers, sweeping through halls with silks, parchment, trays of steaming food—none of which Clarke had touched.

Her cell had been traded for an actual room in the upper levels of the tower. Lexa hadn’t visited again since their last conversation. Part of Clarke was relieved. The other part hated that she still cared.

From her balcony, she could see the courtyard being cleared. Banners were being hoisted for each of the twelve clans. Soon, there might be a thirteenth.

If she agreed. If Skaikru Accepted. If they weren’t torn apart from the inside before the summit even began.

In the war room, Lexa stood before the central table, listening as Indra finished her report.

“Skaikru approaches. Two riders spotted an hour from the gate. Kane leads the delegation. Abby is with him. Bellamy and Octavia too.”

Lexa nodded. “Bring them to the tower directly. Escort them past the market. Let them see that Polis is not a threat.”

Indra’s lip twitched in disapproval. “They see nothing but threats.”

Lexa’s tone cooled. “Then show them power without fear.”

Indra stepped closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You take too many risks for that girl, Heda.”

“She is Wanheda. They will follow her,” Lexa replied, meeting her hard gaze without a flinch.

“She is Skaikru,” Indra paused. “They are not us.”

“She understands war. She understands sacrifice,” Lexa snapped back.

“She is also the one who nearly poisoned your heart,” Indra fired back bluntly. “You told me once that love is weakness.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened. “And I was wrong.”

Indra said nothing for a long moment, then bowed stiffly. “As you say, Heda.”



Clarke was adjusting her wrist wraps when the door opened. She didn’t look up. “I'm not in the mood for another cryptic visit,” she muttered.

“Nice to see you too,” came a familiar voice—dry, worn, and a bit amused.

Clare whirled around. “Kane?”

Behind him, Abby stepped into the room, her eyes immediately scanning Clarke from head to toe. “Clarke-” Her voice broke.

Clarke barely had time to breathe before Abby crossed the space and pulled her into a tight, trembling hug. It took Clarke a few seconds to respond, arms slowly wrapping around her mother.

“I’m okay,” Clarke said softly.

“You’re not,” Abby whispered. “But you’re alive.” When Abby steppedback, Kane stepped forward, his expression sober.

“Indra says Lexa is offering peace,” he said. “She wants Skaikru to join the Coalition.”

“She wants me to bow,” Clarke said flatly. “She wants me to be her puppet. Her pawn.”

Kane raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think she wants?

“I know that's what she wants,” Clarke snapped. “But I don’t know why.”

“You don’t” Kane asked, voice carefully neutral.

Clarke paused, chest tightening. She did know.

Because Lexa looked at her like she mattered. Because Lexa’s voice had cracked when she said, ‘I’m already broken.’ Because Lexa had offered her peace—not just between nations, but between them.



Later that evening, Clarke was summoned to the war room.

Lexa was already there, standing over the map table, her fingers tracing the border between Trikru and Azgeda. Her posture was deceptively calm, her expression unreadable.

“You called for me?” Clarke asked stiffly.

Lexa didn’t look up. “The clans are arriving. Nia of Azgeda and her son, Roan, will be here by nightfall.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“No,” Lexa said, finally turning around to meet Clarke’s eyes. “It’s supposed to warn you. Nia will not accept Skaikru’s inclusion without blood.”

Clarke folded her arms. “Then why risk it?”

“Because I believe in you.”

Clarke blinked.

Lexa stepped closer, slow and measured. “I know you don’t trust me. You shouldn’t. But you understand sacrifice. You understand what peace costs.”

Clarke stared at her. “And what do you understand?”

Lexa’s voice dropped, soft and low. “I understand that I’d burn Polis to the ground before I let them harm you.

Something in Clarke’s stomach fluttered, either rage or heat. She couldn’t tell. She paused for a moment before speaking. “You betrayed me.”

“I know.”

“You left my people to die,” Clarke whispered.

“I know.” Lexa stepped even closer. “But I’m here now and I’m asking you to help me save what’s left.”

Their faces were inches apart.

Clarke’s breath caught. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She hated her. She needed her. And god help her, she wanted her.

Chapter 4

The sun dipped behind the towers of Polis, staining the sky with red and orange as the banners of Azgeda fluttered at the city gates.

From the shadows of the balcony, Clarke watched the small procession enter. Dark furs, gleaming armor, and cold confidence cloaking every step. In the center was Roan on horseback, face hard as steel. But it was the woman beside him who made Clarke’s spine stiffen.

Queen Nia of Azgeda.

She hadn’t sent an emissary. She’d come herself. This wasn’t a negotiation. This was a declaration.

Lexa stepped beside Clarke in silence, her gaze fixed on the gate. “She never attends in person,” Lexa murmured. “Which means she doesn’t plan to leave empty-handed.”

In the throne room, the cold rolled in with them.

Nia entered like a storm queen, long silver-blonde hair braided with metal, a frost-colored cloak trailing behind her. Roan flanked her right, tense and quiet, the obedient weapon she pretended not to control.

The room was quiet. No one dared to breathe too loud.

Lexa stood on the dais, hands clasped behind her back. Calm, composed, and utterly still.

“Nia of Azgeda,” Lexa greeted, voice firm. “You honor Polis with your presence.”

Nia’s eyes flickered around the chamber, then settled on Clarke.

“Does your tower now host hosts, Heda? Or just death-walkers?” Nia taunted.

“She is Wanheda,” Lexa said evenly. “And she is under my protection.”

“Again?” Nia’s lips curved faintly. “You seem fond of protecting things that destroy you,”


Lexa’s eyes darkened, but she gave no retort. Instead, she turned and signaled the guards to welcome Skairkru.
Kane entered first, calm and professional. Beside him walked Abby, her eyes locking on Clarke the moment she crossed the threshold. Bellamy followed, tense and ready. Then Octavia, whose eyes scanned the throne room like a battlefield.

Clarke stepped away from Lexa’s side as her people approached. She gave her mother a soft, quick smile before she turned to Octavia who gave her a firm nod with a brief smile.

Bellamy’s arms remained crossed as he began to speak, “I see you’ve upgraded.” His voice was dry and bitter. “From cell to throne room.”

“Only slightly less suffocating,” Clarke replied.

Lexa watched the exchange from the dais, expression unreadable. She instructed everyone to be in the war room in an hour.

Later, in the war room, the Coalition Summit began. Clan leaders filled the table, flanked by warriors and advisors. Indra stood beside Lexa, silent and vigilant. Nia lounged at the far end, her sharp gaze missing nothing.

Lexa stood. “Tonight, we discuss Skaikru’s place among the Coalition.”

Before she could continue, Nia interrupted. “Place? Or intrusion?”

Lexa’s jaw tightened.

Kane leaned forward to speak. “We come in peace. To find unity.”

Nia scoffed. “Unity is not peace. And peace is not earned by sky-born blood spilling once before retreating behind metal walls.”

“Clark Griffin has earned her seat at this,” Lexa said sharply. “She understands sacrifice. She understands war.”

Roan finally spoke, eyes fixed on Clarke. “She also destroyed Mount Weather. Turned children and elders to ash.”

Clarke met his gaze. “Because they would’ve killed my people.”

Roan tilted his head. “And yet, you stand with her, Heda?”

Lexa didn’t look away. “I do.”

The silence after was thunderous.

Clarke continued. “I won’t apologize for surviving. And I won’t pretend we didn’t make mistakes. But I’m not here to beg. I’m here to offer something better. Not dominance. Not deception. Alliance.” Her voice steadied. “If we want to stop spilling blood, it starts with trust.”

Another pause. Then soft murmuring. Heads turned, questions whispered behind hands.

But Nia smiled. “And how long before you betray us as you betrayed Lexa?”
Clarke froze.

Lexa’s voice cut through the air. “Enough.”

Nia rose slowly, wolf-fur cloak shifting like snow behind her. “I will not bow beside those who still reek of sky fire and lies. And if you force Azgeda to, you risk breaking the Coalition.”

Lexa stepped forward. “I do not make threats lightly, Nia.

“Then consider this a promise,” Nia said. She swept out of the hall, Roan following after her.

That night, Clarke sat alone in her quarters, tension wound tight in her chest. The Coalition was crumbling before it began. Lexa’s gamble was slipping.

A knock came. Lexa entered.

“She was never going to accept it,” Clarke said. “Not while I’m still breathing.”

Lexa crossed the room. “She wants you dead. Not because of what you did. But because of what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

Lexa’s voice softened. “Power.”

Clarke turned to her. “That’s not what this is. This isn’t about politics. You’re trying to use me to hold this together.”

Lexa hesitated. “I’m trying to save my people.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “And me?”

Lexa took a slow step forward. “You were never part of the plan.” Her hand brushed against Clarke’s, brief and electric. “But you’re the only thing I can’t control.”

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat. She hated how much she needed that closeness. She hated how much she wanted it.

Lexa didn’t move closer. Didn’t ask permission.

She just said, low and quiet: “Nia wants a war. I want peace. But I’ll burn the world down before I let her take you.”

Their eyes locked. The space between them felt fragile. Too fragile.

Clarke didn’t stop Lexa as she took her hand. She wanted her to. And that terrified her more than anything.

Chapter 5

Polis didn’t sleep.

Especially not when its Commander had something to prove.

The courtyard was cold in the early dawn, mist clinging to the stone like breath held too long. Lexa moved like a blade, barefoot, staff in hand, muscles loose and focused. Across from her stood Indra—older, broader, but slower than the girl she’d once trained.

Lexa struck first.

A quick rotation of her staff sent Indra off balance, then again with a sharp crack against her ribs. Indra grunted and twisted away, swinging upward, but Lexa ducked and swept low, knocking Indra’s legs out from under her.

The general hit the ground hard.

Lexa didn't gloat. She simply waited, calm and unreadable.

Indra rolled onto her knees, breathing heavy. “You hold back.”

“No,” Lexa said quietly. “I show control.”

Indra rose to her feet, staff in hand again. “You showed something else last night—in front of the clans. In front of Nia.”

Lexa met her gaze, unwavering. “I showed strength.”

“You showed attachment,” Indra snapped, striking forward again.

Lexa blocked effortlessly, their staffs locking with a heavy thud.

“She is Wanheda,” Indra growled, pushing harder. “But she is also Skaikru. And your people see what you won’t.”

Lexa broke the lock and struck again—quick, precise, disarming Indra with one final blow that sent the staff flying from her hands.

Then she lowered her weapon.

Breath steady. Movements clean.

“I see more than you think,” Lexa said. “But I will not abandon what I care for simply because it threatens your idea of control.”

Indra retrieved her staff with slow, deliberate motion.

“You are strong,” she said. “But you are not invincible. And now, they smell blood.”

Lexa turned her face toward the rising sun, eyes hard.

“Let them try.”

Clarke paced her room, body thrumming with unease.

Lexa hadn’t come back last night. After the war meeting. After... that moment.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted more: for Lexa to stay away, or to come back and cross the distance between them.

The door opened suddenly. Kane entered, face unreadable, and closed it behind him.

“She’s losing them,” he said without preamble.

Clarke froze. “Lexa?”

Kane nodded. “The clans are restless. Nia is already speaking to delegates in secret. She’s calling for a vote to challenge Lexa’s command.”

Clarke’s blood ran cold. “A Coalition vote?”

“If she gets enough clans to support her, Lexa could be removed.”

Clarke sat slowly. “Or executed.”

Kane didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“I thought the Coalition was stronger than this,” Clarke muttered.

“It was. Until you came back into it.”

She flinched.

Kane’s voice softened. “You’re not the problem, Clarke. But you’re the fault line they’ll blame. She’s risking everything for you.”

Clarke clenched her fists. “Then I won’t let her fall alone.”

The war hall was empty when Lexa stepped inside hours later.

She had dismissed her advisors. Even Indra. She needed space—needed clarity.

And she needed to feel something other than betrayal in every glance.

The stone walls were silent. Her footsteps echoed too loudly.

The rumors were already spreading. That the Commander had softened. That she’d let Wanheda cloud her judgment. That love had made her vulnerable.

She gripped the edge of the map table, breath steady but heart unquiet.

She had fought for this Coalition with blade and blood. But peace had never asked for love.

And now, for the first time, she feared losing everything—not for her people, but for Clarke.

Clarke found her there in silence.

Lexa didn’t turn when she entered. She didn’t need to.

“Your people are ready to tear you apart,” Clarke said quietly. “Because you cared.”

Lexa’s voice was low, measured. “They see me as weak.”

“Because of me.”

Lexa turned then, and her eyes weren’t cold. They were tired. Bruised by loyalty.

“No,” she said. “Because I let them see what I buried.”

Clarke stepped closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I’m not.”

Lexa looked down, then met Clarke’s eyes again. “I’m just… tired of hiding.”

Clarke’s breath caught.

“You could still walk away,” she said. “Push me out. Keep your throne.”

Lexa’s lips barely moved. “I’d rather lose it than lose myself again.”

A silence stretched between them.

Then Clarke—gently, slowly—brushed a strand of hair from Lexa’s face. Her fingers lingered. Not enough to be bold, but enough to say I see you.

Lexa didn’t move away.

But she didn’t close the space between them either.

Instead, she whispered, “They’ll use this. Nia already is.”

Clarke nodded. “Then let them come.”

Outside the chamber, Indra stood in the shadows, watching them both.

And deeper in the tower, an Azgeda scout slipped into the night with a sealed message clutched in his hand.

A name scrawled across the parchment.

And a target.