Chapter Text
"What's this place?" Raven leans her head back, following the slope of terrain.
"Mount Weather."
They're standing outside a large door, marked by charred remains of an explosion. There's a wedge Lexa touches and with ease, it opens.
"What's Mount Weather?"
"A common enemy," Lexa explains as the door groans, opening enough for them to fit through. Raven follows her inside and it shuts behind them. Lexa's throat tightens and she turns her head away quickly, fighting to hide her struggle to breathe. The walls are unsteady, like they are collapsing in, and she can hear a distant chanting in the background.
Lexa knows exactly what they're shouting.
"Do you hear that?" Raven asks, staring at the door behind them. Lexa grabs a nearby flashlight conveniently placed. She gives it a few smacks on one end when it doesn't turn on right away, a bright light flickering to life and illuminating the hallway.
"Don't worry about it."
Lexa urges Raven down the hallway, leading her through a few turns. Papers are scattered across the floor, furniture is in places it doesn't belong, but it doesn't faze her. The mountain is nothing more than a hollowed out shell, a home abandoned for years, and she feels the remnants of death rack her spine. it is death not by her hands but it weighs heavily on her shoulders, bearing the weight no one is left behind to carry.
The door to the control room opens easily. The room is still powered but some of the monitors are out. The others flicker and Raven advances, eyes quickly scanning over each one.
"Someone's here," she says and Lexa hears the quiver in her voice.
Lexa looks up to see a blonde woman, dressed in makeshift battle armor and blood smeared on her face. She doesn't know how to prepare Raven and she barely gets her mouth open when Clarke bursts through the door with a gun steady in her hand.
She aims immediately for Raven but Lexa is quick on her feet, sliding in front of the architect as Clarke's fingers tighten on the trigger.
"She's not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to be here, remember?"
There are tears welling up in Clarke's eyes and Lexa knows they are of anger and frustration instead of heartbreak. They reflect the betrayal she cannot live down, each and every time, and she always leaves with the same bitter taste on her lips. It would be nothing for Clarke to shoot Lexa if she could not kill the threat.
"Clarke?" Raven calls from one side of a control panel. Lexa is surprised by how gentle the woman speaks and she turns to watch her come across the room. She raises a hand to stop her but she's ignored.
"You're not supposed to be here, Raven," Clarke repeats, aiming the gun away from Lexa and to the target, the threat her subconscious has discovered. Her finger tightens on the trigger but she doesn't pull it, not yet. "Why did you come here?" she demands but before she gets an answer she pulls the trigger.
Raven flies back and lands against one of the panels, a hand clasping against her shoulder.
"Clarke!"
"Shut up, Lexa. Can't you hear them?" the woman growls, swinging the gun back. "They will find a way in here and when they do, they'll tear her apart."
Raven groans, doubles over, and Lexa's attempt to examine the woman is cut short when Clarke fires the gun again, this time hitting one of the monitors.
"Don't you dare, Heda," she growls and it sounds a lot like hatred. It sounds a lot like an angry mob buried deep inside a woman who's felt nothing but betrayal. Lexa cannot blame her, cannot ask for forgiveness. She stands in silence, waiting their fate.
"They've never been able to get in here."
"That's what you think."
"What have you done?"
Lexa hears the chanting again. It's not distant, muffled. She hears the word, over and over. Heda, heda, heda.
"Clarke," she says sharply and swallows hard. A rush of warriors sweep through the door and she has no way of stopping them. Several surround her, blocking her off from Raven as they tear apart what's left.
"I knew you were a snake."
It doesn't sound like Clarke anymore but their eyes connect and she knows what's coming as the gun in her hand, no longer shaky, aims for her.
Clarke puts a bullet through her head.