[For Lexa, it's far more complicated than it being Clarke's fault or Bellamy's fault or even the fault of her own in choosing to take this path. It becomes abundantly clear the moment that Clarke's comfort arrives. Both her words and the grip of her hand over Lexa's are enough to ease the edge of the pain, to offer a temporary salve to soothe the festering wounds that have been in place for a while. To some degree, she recognizes that she's making Clarke responsible for how she feels. And to some degree, she recognizes that it isn't entirely unfair to see the contrast between how Clarke treats Lexa to how she treats Bellamy. But then, Bellamy hasn't been a hard person to puzzle out. Knowing why he does any one thing isn't difficult to consider. He wears his intentions on his sleeves, even when he fools himself into believing otherwise.
There are two separate concepts warring with one another at this moment.
The first is how Lexa feels. Her training as a Commander led her to believe that she had to suppress her emotions, or she would never be able to manage the losses of her people (and of those closest to her). Titus had presented her emotions as a weakness. Attaching to anyone following Costia's death would be a downfall. To some degree, she wants her emotional state to be resolved by something as simple as Clarke's words. She knows Clarke cares. That was never in question. But Clarke can't be the only pillar that stands in the way of the truth of what Lexa's death meant. Anyone can step around that pillar. Lexa has done that every day.
The second is what Lexa sees—what she's observed. Perhaps she's been too trapped in the truth of knowing how deeply that she and Bellamy care for Clarke. But by now, it's impossible to not see how it's reflected back upon Bellamy in a way that it isn't toward her. Again—again—Lexa knows (has known) that Clarke felt deeply for Bellamy, that she'd do anything for Bellamy. She questioned it early on as a means of understanding the tie between them. How Clarke feels for Bellamy is nothing like how she feels for Lexa, and maybe the question would be easier for Lexa to handle if it were a matter of pure jealousy. To some degree, she can't help but feel that Clarke's love for her is a matter of grief, as well, like something that could have never been challenged because it never lasted long enough.
But then, that's where feelings slip in, fighting with her observations, forcing her to try to be rational about things that she can't be rational about. If she could remove herself, she would. And if Titus were there breathing down her neck, she would feel the pressure to do precisely that. He's not here now, and she still feels the same.
So, perhaps:]
(After Costia died, Titus asserted that by having her in the first place, I was presenting a weakness to my enemies. That by having someone to love at all, I was weak. My feelings were nothing more to discard. To throw away.) [Following these words, there's the flash of a memory, of an argument between her and Titus. The clothes that Lexa wears are the same she died in (the same she arrived in as a host). Titus tries to use Costia's death against her, reminding her that love is a weakness. Lexa forgives him, and the warmth she feels for him is muddled by the knowledge she has now—that even though she believed he was doing his best for her in that moment, she now sees otherwise.
It was the last she spoke to Titus.]
(Without Titus' help, I don't know that I would have survived Costia's death. Ironic, then, that the man who offered me the means to survive the death of my first love would then proceed to try to kill my second, to try to shape me again.)
[The gravity of her words is apparent. Though she can't meet Clarke's gaze, it says a lot that she's even sharing these words. The burden of these revelations has been with her for too long. Murphy told her that she failed to understand why Titus would be driven to hurt Clarke. It stirred up a different realization within her: that Titus had always wanted nothing more than to shape her into the perfect Commander, a perfect pupil.
And seeing Polis burn felt like proof that she had never been much of anything, like lasting proof that her legacy would be nothing more than a memory.]
no subject
There are two separate concepts warring with one another at this moment.
The first is how Lexa feels. Her training as a Commander led her to believe that she had to suppress her emotions, or she would never be able to manage the losses of her people (and of those closest to her). Titus had presented her emotions as a weakness. Attaching to anyone following Costia's death would be a downfall. To some degree, she wants her emotional state to be resolved by something as simple as Clarke's words. She knows Clarke cares. That was never in question. But Clarke can't be the only pillar that stands in the way of the truth of what Lexa's death meant. Anyone can step around that pillar. Lexa has done that every day.
The second is what Lexa sees—what she's observed. Perhaps she's been too trapped in the truth of knowing how deeply that she and Bellamy care for Clarke. But by now, it's impossible to not see how it's reflected back upon Bellamy in a way that it isn't toward her. Again—again—Lexa knows (has known) that Clarke felt deeply for Bellamy, that she'd do anything for Bellamy. She questioned it early on as a means of understanding the tie between them. How Clarke feels for Bellamy is nothing like how she feels for Lexa, and maybe the question would be easier for Lexa to handle if it were a matter of pure jealousy. To some degree, she can't help but feel that Clarke's love for her is a matter of grief, as well, like something that could have never been challenged because it never lasted long enough.
But then, that's where feelings slip in, fighting with her observations, forcing her to try to be rational about things that she can't be rational about. If she could remove herself, she would. And if Titus were there breathing down her neck, she would feel the pressure to do precisely that. He's not here now, and she still feels the same.
So, perhaps:]
( After Costia died, Titus asserted that by having her in the first place, I was presenting a weakness to my enemies. That by having someone to love at all, I was weak. My feelings were nothing more to discard. To throw away. ) [Following these words, there's the flash of a memory, of an argument between her and Titus. The clothes that Lexa wears are the same she died in (the same she arrived in as a host). Titus tries to use Costia's death against her, reminding her that love is a weakness. Lexa forgives him, and the warmth she feels for him is muddled by the knowledge she has now—that even though she believed he was doing his best for her in that moment, she now sees otherwise.
It was the last she spoke to Titus.]
( Without Titus' help, I don't know that I would have survived Costia's death. Ironic, then, that the man who offered me the means to survive the death of my first love would then proceed to try to kill my second, to try to shape me again. )
[The gravity of her words is apparent. Though she can't meet Clarke's gaze, it says a lot that she's even sharing these words. The burden of these revelations has been with her for too long. Murphy told her that she failed to understand why Titus would be driven to hurt Clarke. It stirred up a different realization within her: that Titus had always wanted nothing more than to shape her into the perfect Commander, a perfect pupil.
And seeing Polis burn felt like proof that she had never been much of anything, like lasting proof that her legacy would be nothing more than a memory.]