Clarke was born and raised in space. She had spent most of her life so far looking out at the stars, gazing at the earth from a distance. She'd spent countless hours staring out of the viewing window in her room, daydreaming about life on the ground and depicting it in images using whatever she could get a hold of on the Ark.

Then she'd been propelled to the ground with the other prisoners. She had landed on earth, finally felt her feet touch soil and grass. She was able to see and touch real trees, feel the texture of the bark and study the veins and vibrant colours of the leaves. She had looked up to find a blue sky above her, filled with fluffy white clouds. She was able to swim in lakes and experience the stars and moon from a new breathtaking angle. She'd felt the thrum of raindrops against her skin. She had seen the sun rise and set, bathing the sky in fiery colours, and had thought that she would never see a more spectacular sight.

But now she was seeing Lexa come undone beneath her hands. The stoic, ruthless commander reduced to soft sounds, soft expressions, soft skin with muscles straining beneath the surface. All for her. Green eyes turned dark, brimming with emotion. Arched back, fingers grasping at her shoulders, wanting to be rough but trying to be gentle. Goosebumps and fine hairs standing on end in the wake of feather-light touches.

A short, sharp cry. Eyes closing. Body trembling and collapsing. Sharp collarbones and jaw beneath Clarke's lips. Satisfied sighs. Desperate hands trying to pull Clarke impossibly closer.

Lexa's eyes open again, glistening with tears as she reaches for Clarke and draws her in for a deep kiss. Soft, full lips dancing slowly together. When it ends Clarke watches a single tear escape down Lexa's cheek. There's no trace of the commander here, no Heda. Just Lexa. Open, vulnerable, expressive Lexa wearing her heart on her sleeve. She looks afraid, overwhelmed, as though she can hardly believe it's real, until Clarke lays a hand on her cheek. She subtly leans into the touch and graces Clarke with the softest of smiles, her eyes heavy-lidded but still locked on to Clarke's, and Clarke thinks - no, she knows - that this view right here is the grandest, the most beautiful, the most awe-inspiring. This is the sight she feels most privileged to witness.