After the war, her mother and the other Ark survivors find a strange sort of joy in the familiarity found inside Mount Weather. Of the technology it affords, the everyday comforts, of the distant promise of something easier than what they had known the ground to be. For Clarke, it's nothing but a lie. A sad self delusion that she, or her people, cannot afford to indulge in. All the same, she scavenges the mountain, taking what she needs and sometimes what she wants from its haunted catacombs. When they first began this, she informed Lexa of their intentions to raid whatever supplies remained and Lexa dipped her head in understanding but harshly rejected Clarke's request that she join them.
Mount Weather is a cursed place, Clarke. It drowns in the blood of my people. I will never set foot in there again.
Lexa's words constantly echo in Clarke's mind as she wanders through the halls and explores the expansive secret vaults. This world of luxury they created disgusts her as she sees the blood of the Woods Clan covering every inch of this place. All the same, there are things in the mountain that are wonderful. Things that are relicts from the days of old, before man destroyed the world. Things of beauty and significance that deserve to be seen by the Commander. Things that sing out to Clarke and slowly she begins to build a stockpile of these items.
Treasures of art, literature, history... everything that, for Clarke, represent the best of mankind and the distant hope of what they could become again. One by one she takes them from the mountain, sneaks them past the guards, often aided by her friends. Bellamy is amused by her perpetual task, teasing her by giving her the nickname of magpie. Calling her this whenever he sees her leaving the mountain. She rolls her eyes but accepts his joke, believing this task of hers is an important one. Lexa might never want to step foot in Mount Weather but that doesn't mean she should be kept from the few precious and good things that monstrous place contained.
The small house she built for herself in Camp Jaha is filled with what Jasper calls Griffin's Gold. Paintings are hung on every available wall space, books sit on shelf upon shelf, and boxes overflow with documents. Papers from the governments of the past, ones that speak of laws and rights, make declarations of war, and foretold of the destruction that was to come with the final nuclear assault.
A month passes before Clarke makes her way to Tondc and to Lexa, ready to reveal her work. They had seen each other but only in council meetings. Relations between their people is better but some are still wary. It will take time for them to truly become accustomed to one another. Clarke knows that. It took time for her and Lexa. Although she can't help but note there is now a measure of respect reflected in Indra's gaze as Clarke requests an audience with the Commander. She makes her way into Lexa's council room, where she finds the other woman staring at a table covered in maps. Her face is free of war paint and she looks desperately young and beautiful and it calls to Clarke in such a way that she knows with utmost clarity why she's been obsessing on her task at Mount Weather. Why she wants so very badly to give endless gifts of beauty and knowledge to the Commander in some odd form of tribute.
"Clarke," Lexa's voice is low and pleased as she looks to her and Clarke swallows the lump that suddenly appears in her throat. "It is good to see you." She paused, waiting for a response, but getting none, a slight frown tugs at her lips. "How does your work at Mount Weather proceed?"
"Great!" the word bursts from Clarke's mouth and she winced at her own tone. Ducking her head, she tried to get control of herself. This was ridiculous. Honestly. A month she has been gathering things for Lexa, a month of seeing Lexa in every vault, a month where she thought nothing of but the Commander's reactions to what she chose to whisk away from that nightmarish place. It seemed at times her every waking thought resided with Lexa and now that the time had come to share all of that with her Clarke was suddenly reduced to monosyllabic responses. Straightening her shoulders and ignoring her anxiety, she looked at a somewhat perplexed Commander and said, "I have something I want you to see."
"Oh?" questioned Lexa, curiosity lighting her gaze, her head tilted to one side. "What is that?"
"Things from Mount Weather," said Clarke and she winced as she watched Lexa's face immediately darken. "Please, Lexa," she implored as she stepped forward. Clarke was barely able to stop herself from reaching for the other woman's hands. "I promise you it has nothing to do with the Mountain Men."
"How is that possible when it comes from their home?" asked Lexa, her voice soft and dangerous. Clarke realized there was no threat in her words, only the anger she felt on behalf of her people. It was the legacy of that accursed mountain and what it represented. For Lexa it would always remain as a reminder of the suffering her people were forced to endure. Clarke knew that all too well. It was why she had become a human magpie, after all.
"Not everything in Mount Weather was theirs," said Clarke, stepping closer yet, until only a breath remained between them. Those green eyes looked at her with so many repressed emotions that Clarke felt as if her heart might explode upon seeing it. "Our people weren't the only things they hoarded, Lexa. They had artifacts from the old world, things everyone of us have the right to see. Things that represent our heritage and our past, priceless things that belong to all of our people."
"And you wish me to look upon them," said Lexa slowly. Her gaze was drawn away from Clarke and the blonde watched a tick in her jaw form before the Commander clenched it painfully shut. "I appreciate what you say, Clarke, but I still will not set foot in that place."
"I know," said Clarke in a rush and this time she couldn't stop herself from reaching for Lexa's hands. Their warmth filled something in her she hadn't known was empty and the soft look in Lexa's eyes only served to fill it further. "I know that. It's why I've been busy. I've been taking things out. Stuff I thought you should see. Paintings, books, documents... even a few medals." Lexa's eyes grew wider with every word Clarke spoke and she felt her nerves return at the newfound expression of disbelief on the Commander's face. "I have a sword," she offered lamely, "I think I belonged to a General."
"A General," Lexa repeated quietly, her face serious as always, but there was a twinkle in her eyes and her lips curved slowly upward. Clarke released a breath on seeing this and she knew she probably had a ridiculous smile on her face but she couldn't seem to care. "Not a Commander?"
"Well, it could be a Commander's," replied Clarke with a laugh, squeezing Lexa's hands and swinging them to and fro. "I honestly don't know. I was planning on giving it to you so it's going to be a Commander's anyway so why don't we just go with that."
Lexa released a thoughtful murmur and dipped her head, releasing Clarke's hand and reaching for her cloak. Attaching it to her armor, Lexa turned around, a purposeful look on her features. "Come, Clarke," she pronounced, walking ahead and touching the small of the blonde's back. "Show me these wonders of the old world you have liberated from that dread mountain."
"I don't know if it's so much liberated as stole," said Clarke, laughing and allowing herself to be led out into the daylight.
"You say it was never theirs to begin with. Therefore it is a liberation," Lexa responded in such a way that said, for her, this was the end of the discussion. Clarke just laughed again, strangely charmed by the arrogance on Lexa's face as the Commander mounted her horse and looked down at the blonde. There was a moment of pause as they studied one another then Lexa leaned down to clasp Clarke's arm and the blonde instinctively moved in time with Lexa, sitting behind her in the saddle as Indra stared up at them with a veiled expression. "I will be at Camp Jaha until dusk," said Lexa shortly, clicking her tongue and her horse took off in a trot, causing Clarke to yelp and wrap her arms around Lexa's waist. "You must learn to ride, Clarke," Lexa's voice was light and there was a teasing quality to it that reminded Clarke distinctly of Bellamy. She absently wondered why the people she respected the most chose to poke the most fun at her. Perhaps it was a good thing. It signaled a certain comfort between them, she supposed. She was still considering this when Lexa glanced back at her and Clarke felt her heart race at the fondness in those green eyes. "I will teach you."
Clarke was about to protest, to say it wasn't necessary, that the Commander must have better things to do, but the recollection of the look in those eyes stopped her. Maybe all of those things were true but what was most important was that Clarke could see the honesty in Lexa's offer. Clarke knew it was only the ingrained voice of duty that caused her to internally protest but then she thought of what had she been doing this past month. It had nothing to do with her responsibilities and everything to do with making Lexa happy. Maybe she said it was for all of them but Lexa had always been foremost in her mind and it was Lexa whom she was showing these treasures to first.
Now here they were, riding to her home, where she would finally unveil Griffin's Gold to the person it had been gathered for, and Lexa was giving the gift of her time. Something Clarke knew all too well the Commander didn't have in abundance. She wasn't self sacrificing or stupid enough to turn it down. Not when it was all she really wanted. "All right," Clarke murmured, moving forward. She spoke in Lexa's ear, her breath hot on the other woman's skin and she felt a slight shiver emerge. "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Clarke of the Sky People," said Lexa formally and Clarke laughed, resting her forehead on Lexa's shoulder.
"Always so proper," Clarke teased and she had to stop herself from nuzzling her face into the crook of Lexa's neck. Lord knows when either of them had last bathed but like all Tree People, their Commander used herbs and sweet smelling salts to mask the lack of convenient water. It made for an earthy scent that was both comforting and wonderfully foreign.
"I am the Commander," said Lexa, equally formal and Clarke knew if she could look at her she'd be wearing an imperious expression.
"You are," Clarke breathed happily, her face resting against Lexa's back and her arms tightening reflexively. "I'm so happy about that. I don't know if we could've made this alliance with anyone else. If I could have." She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed slowly in and out. Remembering what her father once taught her about overcoming momentary claustrophobia on the Ark with meditation. She had always found in her moments of panic it served to calm her mind and body. This was one such moment because while she wasn't in a panic she was incredibly anxious about what she was about to reveal. Uncertain even as she spoke the words if it was intelligent to do so. "I don't know if I can do this without you anymore."
Silence as they approached Camp Jaha and suddenly Clarke was worried she had revealed too much for the stalwart Commander. Maybe she had lost her chance in that tent before the war. Not yet was a vague promise if anything and the idea that Lexa didn't have people vying for her attention was laughable. She sighed and watched as the guards shouted for the gate to open, scooting back from Lexa, trying futilely to put some sort of distance between them. Only it was no use. The moment she moved away, Lexa's hands were there, their grip firm, holding her in place just as surely as the heartfelt look in her eyes.
"We are the same," Lexa confessed in a quiet murmur. "I would fight any enemy to keep your spirit in this world for many years to come."
"I'd like it if you didn't have to fight anybody," said Clarke wryly. Lexa raised an eyebrow as she dismounted her horse and looked up at Clarke with a tender expression. "I know," she teased, taking Lexa's offered hand, and dismounting far more carefully. "That's a foolish dream."
"Not foolish," said Lexa, shaking her head slightly, and Clarke blinked as the Commander kept her hold on Clarke's hand as they walked through the camp and towards Clarke's small dwelling. "And it is only a dream for now, Clarke. I hope that one day, in our lifetime, it will become a reality."
"I'd like that too," Clarke breathed and she felt such a great swell of affection for Lexa she didn't know what to do with herself. So she bit the inside of her cheek and ducked her head, trying to keep her happiness a private thing, not exposed for everyone to see. Suddenly they were at her house and Clarke stepped quickly in front of Lexa, smiling at the curious look on the Commander's face. "Close your eyes," she requested and when Lexa's eyes instead narrowed at her, Clarke bit her lip and formed her most plaintive expression. "Please?"
Lexa released an audible sigh and murmured, "Very well. Do not make me regret this."
"I won't," said Clarke excitedly, pushing open her door and reaching for Lexa's hands, leading her inside. Once they were in the center of the room, one that Clarke felt gave Lexa the best view of the makeshift collection, she said, "Okay. Open them."
The Commander opened her eyes and took a step as she removed her cloak and placed it on a nearby chair. She walked closer and looked at the paintings. Ones that depicted the glory of nature and the brutality of war. Paintings of the magnificence of the night sky and the swell of a woman's curves as she models for her lover. She touches the bust of what Clarke thinks to be a Greek Goddess, her finger running down the bridge of the statue's nose, then she stops at the sword that Clarke spoke of. It's old and beautiful and looks very much like something worthy of a commander.
Unable to help herself, Lexa picks it up, testing the feel of it in her hand. Its age prevented it from being of any practical use but it's as if she can feel the weight of battles it was in and her eyes fall upon the scabbard. Shining and bright, she studies the writing on it, suddenly wishing she knew more than a few scant words of the old world writing. So lost in her study, she's almost startled by Clarke's hand on her shoulder. "I think they're the names of the battles they were in," Clarke said, lifting the scabbard so she can read the engravings. "Perryville, Stones River, Chickamauga, Chattanooga..." Clarke trailed off and Lexa ran her finger over the words as Clarke finished speaking.
"So many," Lexa said solemnly, "they must have been a great warrior."
"Yes," said Clarke, her body barely able to hold in the emotion she felt at this moment. It wasn't a stupid errand she had been on this past month. All the things she saw in these items, it seemed Lexa did too, and it made her happier than words could say. "Just like you."
"Clarke," Lexa said her name like it was a prayer. Reverent and soft and with so much quiet feeling that Clarke was overwhelmed by it. Lexa carefully removed the sword from Clarke's hands and set it down on the ground. She looked around the room once more, taking everything in. The paintings, drawings, books, and stacks and stacks of papers. The medals and sculptures. The typewriter and phonograph complete with records. "You did this for me," Lexa said this with an almost incredulous amazement, "did you not?"
"I just wanted you to see," said Clarke lamely, biting her lip and shifting from foot to foot. "I needed you to see."
"And now I have," said Lexa soft and serious, stepping forward, her hands reaching for Clarke's hips and pulling her close. "I have seen," she murmured, raising one hand up to Clarke's cheek, stroking her skin. Lexa moved closer yet, their foreheads resting together. "I see you, Clarke of the Sky People. So much that sometimes I wonder if I cannot see anything else."
"Lexa," Clarke rasped and her heart, it felt as if it might beat out of her chest, and then Lexa's lips were on hers.
She hadn't ever let herself think about what it would be like to kiss Lexa again because she didn't want to dwell on the what ifs. Just because not yet had become right now for her didn't mean it would for Lexa. But now Lexa was kissing her again and Clarke thought it was far better than she ever remembered. Lexa's lips were soft and sweet and oh so knowing, kissing Clarke with a purposeful desire that was filled with devotion, showing with every movement the extent of her feelings until Clarke was lost and nothing existed except Lexa and her kiss.
When they parted, it was with a gasp and exhale from them both, their foreheads resting together once again and Clarke blinked, taking in Lexa's closed eyes and shuddering breath. "I see you too," murmured Clarke, kissing Lexa slow and tender, cupping Lexa's face in her hands. Only when green eyes, shadowed with the torment of feeling, met her own did she continue. "I love what I see."
There wasn't a response and Clarke wasn't really sure if she was even expecting one. The words would have to wait, Clarke knew that. It was enough that she could see and feel and know Lexa's emotions. What the Commander felt for her wasn't a mystery and Clarke didn't need three little words to make it real because she had them in the look of Lexa's eyes, the feel of her hands, and the caress of her lips.
And that, was the real treasure. Not what she found of the old world.
End