Names have power, Lexa thinks. Not necessarily your ‘name’, but what someone calls you, how they call you, when they’re discussing you. Individually, and alone.
Lexa’s people like talking about her. Why wouldn’t they? It’s an easy topic; someone might not know a halberd from a pointed stick, or salve from balm, but they know who The Commander is. Or they think they do, anyway.
Contrarily, Lexa doesn’t get a chance to use names often; familiarity breeds favoritism, and favoritism fosters resentment, and resentment rears an ugly little child known as ‘socio-political chaos.’ So when this mass-murderer of a Sky person stumbles (glides) into her tent, eyes wary and mouth tight with preparedness, Lexa almost feels glad. She’ll be allowed to address someone by a title other than ‘you’ or ‘all of you’, or ‘scum’, on special occasions.
Then she learns the Sky person has a name like “Clarke Griffin”, and Lexa almost feels overwhelmed. What a good name. What a deserving name.
“Clarke of the Sky People.”
“If you insist, Clarke Griffin.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Clarke.”
“Clarke, I was thinking-“
There’s a bit of an odd glint in Clarke’s eyes, whenever Lexa uses her name. Especially the ‘Griffin’ part. (Lexa doesn’t really understand what it means. Who needs a second name? Of course, it’s Clarke. Clarke needs a second name. The rest of the Sky people probably just imitated her out of sheer reverence.)
On the same note, Clarke says ‘Lexa-‘ and Lexa feels a bolt of excitement strike through her clear (hazy) thoughts; (she says Clarke a good four times for every ‘Lexa’ she receives. It’s only right.)
“Bellamy’s idea is sound; why won’t you admit that?”
“This entire plan is unnecessary foolishness and you know it, Clarke.”
“Lexa, it’s the only plan we have, and you know it.”
Mockery is not the product of a strong mind. It’s the product of an emotional one. So she resists it. Verbally, at least. She’s pretty sure she hasn’t rolled her eyes since Anya used to practice feints and aim above her head, forcing her to crank her neck back and forth. Clarke rolls her eyes and feints. It isn’t fair.
Clarke. The click at the end is delicious. Clarke. The way your mouth is forced to open further, the way your tongue has to work for the sound. Lexa’s name is wide, sharp. Clarke’s is round, ticking. Omnipresent. Her name has weight.
The word ‘Lexa’ has no such burden. Lexa, thy name is Commander. Heda.
Lexa does not exist, to most people. The Commander has always existed, will always exist.
The Commander is omnipresent.