This Black Blood is Without End
Chapter 1 – What Comes Before
Author's Note:
Alright folks, I have a lot of feelings about the idea of Clarke and Lexa as Soulmates, about the Nightbloods and their possible mythology, about Aden and Lexa as a kickass pair, Polaris as the 13th station, and any possible AU starring Arker!Lexa. I needed a place to put all those feelings, so here we are. Full disclosure, this will be a sort-of-canon-but-not-really-canon Parallel Universe work which will see some characters changing from Grounder to Arker, and vice versa, and will be told mostly from Lexa's POV. All characters will make an appearance (I don't intend to write anyone out of the story, though they may show up in unusual places). This first chapter is pretty much a Prologue, picking up after the events of 3x06, and told from Clarke's POV. Let's be honest, we all know what is going on in Lexa's mind, so I wanted to shine some light onto what is going on inside of Clarke. Chapter 2 will switch to Lexa's POV and set the stage for the AU of my dreams. If you are looking to jump straight into the meat of the story, you can easily just skip straight to Chapter 2. I own nothing, all mistakes are my own, comments/encouragement is appreciated, please be gentle with me, thanks for reading! - FlyUpInSky
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The muted glow of candles and torchlight filled the spacious room in their soft light, casting gently upon the figures of the Commander of the Coalition and Clarke Griffin of the Ark, the remains of a simple meal scattered between them on the war room's large, single table. The two young women did not speak, but instead appeared to be lost in their own thoughts, the conversation having lapsed while they ate and a comfortable silence having taken its place. Lexa's green eyes scanned quickly through a series of reports written on slim rolls of paper in an indecipherable text, and Clarke's own blue eyes were unfocused and distant, gazing sightlessly down at the assorted maps that dominated the rest of the table's surface, memories of the dropship and thoughts of the people she knew and cared for back in Arkadia playing within her mind. Several servants moved unnoticed through the room, removing torches and extinguishing candles as they went, and the light slowly dimmed around them, darkness sliding closer and wrapping them in its soft embrace, their faces illuminated now only by the candles remaining on the table's surface. With the exposed beams and concrete of the ruined tower now obscured in darkness, the room and its furnishings looked even more medieval, the new Dark Age of a post apocalypse Earth harkening humanity back to the dark ages of centuries past.
Clarke roused from her inner ruminations when the last of the servants stepped forward to clear away what was left of their meal, murmuring a soft question in Trigedasleng before they withdrew. She glanced over at Lexa and, seeing that she was still focused on the reports in front of her and had taken no notice of the servant's question, turned and answered in the same language.
"No, thank you, that will be all for now."
The servant bobbed his head in a slight bow upon her response and retreated, light from the torches in the hall spilling inwards briefly as the room's heavy doors swung shut behind him. The room fell into an even deeper silence than before, one now lacking the slide and shuffle of servants' feet and the guttering breaths of torches. Clarke was suddenly struck by the realization that they were now truly alone together as they had not been in more than a week's time. Not since Carl Emerson, the last of the Mountain Men, had been banished eight days earlier, and the next crisis brought on by Skaikru's continued incursions into Trikru's lands had overwhelmed them, launching them both into a flurry of activity and political maneuverings which had since consumed their days and nights. The situation between the Clans of the Coalition and the people of Arkadia was continuing to deteriorate, as it seemed that every move they made to ensure future peace was met only with further acts of aggression by now-Chancellor Pike and his bloodthirsty followers.
Almost despite herself, Clarke's mind again turned to Bellamy, the recriminations he had cast upon her in that room in Arkadia still painful to consider despite the time that had passed. Though she knew he supported Pike in his campaign – she even had the handcuffs to prove it! – Clarke still struggled to believe he was sincerely committed. That, despite everything that had happened, he couldn't be persuaded to see reason somehow. The friendship and trust which had slowly grown between them in the frenetic days and weeks after the dropship landed, as they worked first against and then with each other to keep their friends alive, had seemed unbreakable. Bellamy was supposed to be someone she could depend on, always…
Until he wasn't. Until he had helped to carry out a senseless massacre which destroyed everything she and Lexa had been working towards.
With each passing day since the slaughter of Indra's army, Clarke found it easier to reconcile that her people had in fact committed such an atrocity. The initial shock, disbelief and horror she had experienced upon seeing the field of innocent dead had begun to settle, giving way instead to a wary sense of disillusionment. There was truly no limit to the horrors that humanity would reap upon one another. She should know. She was, after all, the mighty Wanheda, Mountain Slayer. Hadn't her own actions taught her what people were truly capable of? … What Bellamy was capable of?
Clarke sighed deeply, settling back into her seat and tilting her head backwards to rest on the high seatback. She felt tired, and much older than her actual years. Not just physically tired from the stress of the last weeks, but a weariness in her soul which threatened to drag her down and bury her in accumulated grief. The wild, damaged, wounded creature she had been only weeks before when she first arrived in Polis felt like a distant memory. The hopeful, idealistic girl who had stepped off the dropship and smiled as fresh, pine-scented air hit her face for the first time was like a beautiful stranger seen in a distant dream. Clarke wondered who she was now, and if she would ever be able to get back to who she had been before. Should she even want to? The things she had seen and done had changed her, it was true, but she was still as committed as ever to protecting her friends, and the knowledge and experiences she had gained since landing on the ground had taught her much. She was more capable now of helping them than ever before, and that was exactly what she had been doing from the moment she agreed to bow to Lexa at the summit. In fact, since deciding to spare Emerson's life, Clarke had felt more at peace with herself and her decisions than she had since that terrible day in Mount Weather. She was even drawing again, she acknowledged with a private smile, something she thought she might never have the heart to do again.
A sound beside her drew her attention and she tilted her head to the left, her eyes meeting Lexa's immediately. The Commander had turned sideways in her seat and was now regarding her, having set aside the dispatches she had been reading through most of their shared dinner. They had been meeting with assorted advisors and ambassadors in this very room for most of the evening, and Lexa was therefore still dressed in formal attire, her dark coat hanging around her protectively like the armor it was. She was without war paint, however, and had undone several clasps on the front of her coat once the others had departed, which did much to soften her normally fierce appearance. As ever, her posture was alert and poised, her movements containing the sort of unconscious self-possession only found in one who knows their every action is being watched, their every expression evaluated for potential weakness. Even like this, almost motionless and making no noticeable sound, her presence filled the room, drawing all eyes to her. It was the same whether there were two people in the room with them or two hundred. Lexa, she mused, possessed that special type of guarded reserve which both fascinated and intimidated, simultaneously drawing people closer while also pushing them away… An effect to which Clarke was, admittedly, not entirely immune.
"You should go and rest, Clarke," she said, her voice soft and face inscrutable in the candlelight, "There is nothing more to be done tonight that cannot wait until morning, and you seem tired."
Clarke exhaled a short breath, pulling herself upright in her chair and turning to face the other woman, a rueful smile tugging for existence at the corners of her lips.
"No, not tired, just… distracted. Too distracted to sleep, probably," she admitted, earning the smallest of a raised eyebrow from Lexa at her words.
"If you are concerned about Titus and his continued stance against your people, I assure you, he will not act without my orders," Lexa reassured her after a slight pause, annoyance at the man who was her closest advisor pinching the corners of her eyes, her change in expression so slight that most would not have recognized it. "He may question me, and test my patience from time to time, but he is loyal."
Clarke nodded, her mind turning back to the arguments which had occurred in this very room earlier that day. Upon realizing that the Commander could not be persuaded to all-out war with Skaikru, Titus had turned his efforts towards arguing for a more targeted retaliatory strike.
"If it is only the new leaders among Skaikru who want war, as Wanheda insists, then surely we can all agree that if it is they who ordered the massacre, then it is they who deserve our vengeance! Heda, I implore you, the clans will not stand for further inaction while Skaikru continues to invade our lands and molest our people. Send in our best assassins. Strike the head from the snake and watch the body whither. Peace will never be achieved without more blood spilt. Let it be the blood of those who ordered our people's deaths, and who defy your hopes for peace at every turn!"
His words had had an immediate effect upon the entire room, rippled shouts and murmurs of agreement spreading amongst the assembled advisors, war leaders and ambassadors. Even Clarke had found herself wondering if perhaps his plan had merit. Hadn't she and Octavia essentially attempted much the same thing only a week before?
But no, it was not nearly so simple, Clarke knew, and Lexa had agreed with her. As tempting as it was to hope that simply removing Pike and his inner circle would fix everything, there were too many ways for an assassination attempt to fail. Especially one on such a scale as Titus proposed, targeting not one, not two, but dozens of people within Arkadia. Inevitably, some of the ringleaders would survive. These new deaths at the hands of Grounder assassins – within the perceived safety of their own walls, no less – would only goad Skaikru to further attacks, deepening the mistrust between the two peoples and convincing even the more peace-minded Arkers to support Pike's policies.
No, this course of action, like all of the others Titus had championed over the last week, could undoubtedly only end in war with the people from the Ark. Which was, Clarke suspected, his true goal all along. She had not forgotten what Lexa had told her several days earlier. That Titus had strongly opposed Skaikru entering the Coalition as the thirteenth clan, and had suggested she kill Wanheda in order to strengthen her position as Commander.
"I know you trust Titus, Lexa. I believe he is doing what he thinks is best for your people. I want to trust your judgement of him, but…" she paused, conscious suddenly of the delicacy of this conversation. She had asked the Commander to trust her judgement in the past, and Octavia was only alive today because Lexa had put her trust in Clarke's assessment of the loyalty of one of her own. Did she really have a right to question Titus' loyalty like this with her now?
In the end, the need to protect her friends in Arkadia drove her to continue, despite the small twinges of guilt she felt. The Commander wanted her honesty, she knew, and even seemed to appreciate her freely spoken opinions to the extent that she now sought out Clarke for her advice. But she also knew that Lexa – not just the Commander, but the person that lay beneath the mask of duty and sacrifice for her people – yearned for Clarke to trust her.
"But… I don't trust him," she admitted finally, unable to stop herself from trying to do something about the vague suspicions crowding at the corners of her mind. "It's not just that he is eager for war, and has tried to persuade you to retaliate against my people. Those things I can understand. My people committed a terrible atrocity, and he is justified in his desire for vengeance. What concerns me is that he is so eager to say so in front of others. He knows you are committed to this, and that his support is necessary if we are ever going to get your people to agree, but he continues to be vocal about his dissent in front of your ambassadors, your warriors."
She leaned towards Lexa, blue eyes focused and unwavering on her, her voice softening from its initial fierceness to a more concerned, anxious tone, her sudden emotions surprising her.
"He told me he fears for your life, that setting aside 'Blood must have blood' is dangerous, not only for the Coalition but for you personally. If he truly wanted to protect you, he should be helping us convince the others, not planning assassinations that are doomed to fail in the war room for everyone's ears to hear!"
Clarke watched Lexa's face carefully for her reaction, unsurprised when she continued to hold her gaze, not glancing away or breaking eye contact as so many others might have done in the face of the intensity that was Clarke Griffin with a cause. Clarke felt the tightening in her chest, the slight pang of emotion deep somewhere in her stomach and throat as she stared back at her, an uncomfortable reminder that she felt more for this woman than she should… More than was safe in this dangerous world. After a prolonged moment of consideration, she was relieved to see Lexa's features relax a bit, her guard coming down in a way she only ever seemed to do when they were alone together, as they were now.
"I understand your concerns about him, Clarke. Even Indra shares them. She said as much on that bloody field when I chose not to attack Arkadia. But neither of you know Titus as I do." Lexa leaned forward with her words, clasping her hands loosely in front of her with her elbows on her knees, her voice gentle but insistent. Their chairs were separated by a couple feet, but seated as they were, sideways and leaning towards one another, with only the soft and intimate glow of the candles clustered in the center of the table beside them, it seemed as though there was no distance between them at all.
"True, he does not share our vision of peace through peaceful means. He has only known peace through strength, and peace through war. We built the Coalition together using those principals and the traditions of our people to guide us, and it has worked so far. You say he knows that I am committed to peace with Skaikru, but I do not believe he fully comprehends my commitment, nor my eventual goal. No yet, at least. Until Titus is completely convinced that I cannot be swayed, he will continue to push for war with Skaikru."
Clarke was chilled at her words, her concerns mounting as Lexa spoke.
"But," Lexa continued, "that does not mean he will defy me. He has been my most trusted advisor since the day I was called to lead my people. He has served three Commanders before me, and will likely serve the next upon my death. His loyalty to the Blood has been tested countless times and never found wanting."
Clarke failed to feel sufficiently reassured, and again felt frustration at Lexa's casual disregard for her own lifespan, as though she never expected to live past the present moment. However, she was soon distracted from her worries as Lexa's voice took on a more passionate edge, face and eyes lighting up as she spoke her next thoughts, a tremulous hope and promise echoing behind every word. It instantly transported Clarke back to that moment in the throne room eight days earlier, when Lexa spoke to her people with fire and eloquence in her voice in the face of their confusion over Clarke's decision not to take vengeance on Emerson.
"He fears change, as do all of my people. He fears I have lost my way. But we must convince him, all of them, that there is a new and better way. Peace without bloodshed. A future without violence threatening everything we cherish. My people have only known violence for too long. Since the world burned and civilization fell, savagery was all that has kept us alive. All of my people, including Titus, must be given the chance to see the future as you and I do, and to believe it is possible. This is not something that can be achieved in a day, Clarke, or a week, or maybe not even in years. But we must show them it can be done, and it starts with Skaikru. In time, Titus will see this. His greatest goal was always to see the twelve clans united. After I took command, I showed him it could be done. I will show him that this can be done as well."
And there it was, everything that made this remarkable person so fascinating, so unique, and so utterly captivating. Kane had called her a visionary… and she was, truly. However, she doubted even he had known just how true his words were at the time. Clarke exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, swallowing her dry throat around the lump that had formed there. When Lexa spoke this way, of her hopes for her people, and of "we", and of a peaceful future as a mission to be shared, as though it was something which she and Clarke were destined to create together… It made her heart clench. It made some of the air leave the room, as though pushed out by the force of her words. And despite herself, despite her pragmatism and understanding of the incredibly difficult challenges facing them, Clarke found her spirits lifting, her earlier despair over Bellamy and concerns about Titus driven away by the sheer power of the other woman's words. If anyone could inspire this change, it was Lexa. She need only have faith in her, as she had on the day of the massacre, when she had laid the lives of her friends, her mother, and everyone she knew in Arkadia at her feet, praying that her arguments for peace would reach the truly inspired soul that she knew, just knew, was Lexa's true inner self.
She had glimpsed it first in tiny pieces on the day they first met, when Lexa silenced Indra's objections and reached forward to take Anya's braid in her hands, listening to her offer of peace despite the many deaths Clarke had personally caused. When she accepted without argument Clarke's assertion that they focus only on rescuing their people from Mount Weather, and not on the wholesale slaughter of the people who had hunted, terrorized, and made monsters out of her people for generations. When she brought the Arkers into the Coalition, accepting all of the consequences for that decision on her own shoulders, willingly fighting a duel to the death, then pardoning those involved in order to avoid casting the clans into further conflict. When Clarke had gone before her to beg for Arkadia to be spared, she had been operating on instinct alone, her heart and soul telling her that Lexa would agree, even as her head screamed at her for foolish hopes. There was no real reason to believe she could possibly agree. Only that Clarke had felt it somewhere within her all along that the two of them were kindred spirits, more similar and knowable to each other than seemed logical, or even possible. Despite how often she had wished it was otherwise in the aftermath of Mount Weather. When Lexa shocked both her and Indra with her decision, she had felt the last of her walls begin to crumble.
Clarke felt it the moment it finally happened, mere seconds after Lexa finished speaking, their eyes still holding each other with an intimacy that should have felt uncomfortable but didn't. The last ghosts of suspicion and doubt, of fear of further heartache, of bitterness over past decisions and their consequences, finally melted away. Just like that, the walls she had carefully constructed between herself and the person before her were gone as though they had never been. A tension she hadn't even known she had been carrying suddenly leaving her like a gentle exhalation.
She felt light and warm. She felt, to be honest, a little dizzy. Her lips twitched into a small smile. There was an inexplicable urge to laugh out loud, but she stifled it. Her small smile grew on her face, becoming a full and genuine grin, and again she felt the urge to laugh when she saw the look of surprise which stole over Lexa's face, one corner of the other woman's mouth sliding into a genuine smile of her own. Clarke thought that it must look unusual, her smiling so freely. Her mouth felt strange, unused to the sensation, and it occurred to her that Lexa had likely never seen her smile without restraint. Not during any of the countless hours they had spent together planning their attack on Mount Weather, when she had been driven and consumed almost completely by her need to save her friends, and certainly not in the time since. She hadn't felt like she deserved it after what she had done, and any smile in Lexa's presence had seemed like a betrayal to those she had been forced to kill.
"Okay, Lexa," she said, reaching forward to rest her left hand lightly on top of Lexa's clasped hands, her smile lessening somewhat as she focused on conveying the sincerity of her next words, concerned that she say just the right thing.
"I do trust you, and I meant what I said before, that your legacy will be peace. It's the greatest gift a leader can give to her people, and if anyone can make them see that, can make Titus see that, then it's you. I'll stop worrying about Titus. I know you can show them… that we can show them that finding a way to make peace with Skaikru without using violence is not just for the good of those living in Arkadia, but for the good of all our people."
Lexa's eyes widened slightly, their gaze shining and intent upon her face for a moment before dipping down to glance at where Clarke's hand rested against her own. When she looked back up, Clarke's breath caught at the sight. As she had seen only a few times before, Lexa wore an expression that was both tender and painfully exposed. One that completely stripped away any hint of the Commander of the Coalition and left in its place only a girl just a few years older than herself. A shy smile had burst forth on her suddenly young face, taking flight with all the fluttering vulnerability of a newborn bird, and Clarke knew that she had spoken the right words.
"Mochof, Klark kom Skaikru," she said, thanking her in Trigedasleng so softly that it was almost a whisper.
"Pro, Leksa," she replied, squeezing the other woman's two hands together with her one, the physical touch sending warm and delightful messages up her arm. Her own fingers felt cold, but Lexa's were deliciously warm despite the night's chill seeping into the room. The detached part of her mind, the part that had trained under her mother's medical tutelage for years on the Ark, wondered if the strange, black blood which all of the Nightbloods possessed effected their core temperatures, or if it had any other unusual side effects. She supposed she could ask Lexa herself, or even Titus. He seemed to be her principal assistant in the care and teaching of the Nightblood children, and if he had truly served for three previous Commanders, as Lexa had just told her, then surely his knowledge of the strange blood and its properties was unparalleled.
She frowned, a new thought striking her at once, and she shook Lexa's hands lightly, her tone a little playful.
"Wait, did you really just say that Titus has served three Commanders before you?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice. "That can't be possible… Just how old is he, anyways?"
Rather than the answering smile she had been expecting at her question, she was surprised when Lexa's open expression closed somewhat, seriousness overtaking her face as she answered.
"Titus is no older or younger than he appears, though you would need to ask him directly for a true accounting of his years. There have been many Commanders before me, and the trials are difficult. It is unusual for any of us to last as long as I have."
Clarke immediately wished she had not asked, though this did somewhat explain the apparent disregard with which Lexa always spoke about her possible death. If she had been discovered as a child to have black blood, and brought here to train at a young age, as she had earlier insisted all Nightblood children were, it meant that she had likely witnessed the full rise and fall of at least one of the Commanders before her. How many times had Lexa watched one of the older novitiates step into the mantle of Commander, only to die shortly after? It was a terrible thing to contemplate, and helped explain how a girl of sixteen could be so ruthless, so driven as to not only lead a crusade to join the twelve clans, but to then succeed where others had failed. All Grounder children were exceptionally tough when measured by the standards of the people of the Ark, but Lexa's accomplishments were remarkable. It also helped explain the apparent care she took with the children themselves. Especially Aden, the boy whom she had introduced as her probable successor. The Nightbloods were likely the closest thing to a family that Lexa had ever known.
And why did Clarke get the feeling that when Lexa said "the trials are difficult", that she had done so with hidden emphasis, as though what she had truly said was "Trials", with the first letter deserving of capitalization. Not a generalization of the difficulties of being in charge, but instead a distinct series of challenges which must be faced and overcome. The more she learned of the Natblidas, and of the Hedas before Lexa and her Coalition, the more it seemed to Clarke as though the position had originally been more akin to a spiritual leader than a political one. Prior to Lexa, the clans had apparently been even more fractious and war torn than they were now. And yet, all of the clans had willingly sent their Nightblood children to Polis? There was so much she did not yet understand about the history and culture of the people she was living amongst. It struck Clarke that despite the many hours spent in each other's company, and despite the undeniable an inexplicable connection she felt with her, there was still a great deal about each other that they didn't know.
Time enough to change that, she decided.
"So, if Titus served previous Commanders, did he help to train you when you were one of the Nightbloods?" she asked, eager to learn more about Lexa's past but wanting to steer clear of discussions of death and trials for now. "Why do I suspect that the main reason for his lack of hair is because of trying to keep up with you as a small child?"
This time her questions did produce a smile as she had hoped, and it wasn't lost upon Clarke that their hands were still lightly touching, their bodies seeming to drift closer together of their own accord. They were both now perched barely on the edges of their respective seats, their knees nearly intertwined. It felt good not to resist the attraction she had always felt for the complex woman before her. Deciding she liked the way Lexa's hands felt beneath hers, Clarke gave in to temptation and let her other hand join them, fingers playing lightly along the outsides of Lexa's clenched fists. The other woman was tensing up, she realized, unsure of what this unnecessary physical contact might mean and wary of doing anything Clarke might not want. They had become comfortable together over the past weeks, it was true, but Lexa was always careful to keep an appropriate distance. That consideration, which she had so greatly appreciated up until now, as it had allowed her to more easily keep her barriers up, now made Clarke feel a little regretful. It spoke a great deal of Lexa's uncertainty regarding Clarke's feelings.
I didn't think it would ever be possible, and it only just happened moments ago, but I think I have truly forgiven her, she thought to herself, the sensations still new enough that it was a marvel to be feeling them. It was a thousand times the relief she had felt in deciding not to kill Emerson, and a million times the freedom she had felt in walking away from the burdens of guilt and leadership in Arkadia.
I've forgiven her, but she doesn't yet know it.
"I do not know if blame for his baldness can be laid at me feet, as he has kept his head shaved as fitting his position for as long as I have known him," Lexa was saying, her words not without an edge of humor. "He only suffered as my instructor for six years, however, as I was sent back to my clan to serve as Anya's second in my thirteenth year."
Clarke quirked an eyebrow.
"Is that normal, sending a Nightblood back to their clan to be trained? Or were you such a handful that it was decided only Anya could possible keep you under control when you hit your teens?"
This earned yet another swift smile, Lexa's eyes casting sideways to regard the candles where they flickered in the center of the table. Clarke got the sense that she was both confused and pleased by the playful questions, perhaps surprised by her interest in her childhood and the obvious flirtation in Clarke's voice and touch.
Lexa's eyes cast back to her, giving a haughty shrug in response, a ghost of the hard edges and tough veneer she normally wore as the Commander making an appearance as she explained with some pride, "Not normal, no, but not unheard of. I was the best of my peers, and it was decided that I had learned all I could here and that my training would be better served away from the shelter of Polis for a time. Anya was my mentor for nearly three years, and I believe she would have told you if asked that I was a difficult and thickheaded student, far too stubborn for my own good… but only because that was her way."
Clarke chuckled at this, enjoying the mental image of a younger, less-than-enthusiastic Anya faced with the task of taking a young – and no doubt insufferably self-assured – teenaged Lexa under her wing.
"What of you?" Lexa asked, genuine curiosity tinging her voice. "If either of us were cause for terror in our elders as children, it was most certainly you," she added with a strange wistfulness, green eyes catching and holding hers. Clarke felt the hands beneath her own clench tightly once more and then release, her palms falling open and turning upwards, hands now cradling Clarke's in her own. Holding them as though they were something precious. As though Clarke was something precious.
It was her turn now to glance downwards at their joined hands before answering, face flushing slightly.
"Oh, ah, well… I was pretty well behaved," she denied, admitting after a moment more, "But, when I turned thirteen, I got drunk on some alcohol my friend Wells and I took from his father's office, then returned to my family's rooms and immediately threw up in my dad's favorite work boots that he had left by the door."
"Really?" Lexa asked dryly, not sounding overly impressed with her dangerous misdeeds. "Was he angry with you? No, let me guess… He tried to punish you, but you somehow talked or tricked your way out of it."
Clarke allowed herself to look offended before shaking her head at her.
"No, of course not. My dad was a gentle and educated man, and I never heard an unkind word from him in my entire life." She chuckled, then added, "But I swear to you Lexa, that next morning, when he slipped his foot into that left boot and discovered what I had done, I learned about ten new curse words and three new parts of the human anatomy within seconds of his toes hitting vomit."
She smiled, her mind filled with the memory, some of the first unpainful thoughts she had had of her father since his execution on the Ark, and certainly the first time since his death she had spoken of him and not felt overwhelmed by the fact of his loss. She watched Lexa's lips first tremble, then slide and part into an actual smile, at first one, and then another breathy exhalation escaping her in what was…
Wait... Was that a giggle?
Clarke's jaw dropped, fingers clenching down and gripping Lexa's hands beneath her own in shock.
"You're laughing?!" she demanded, a spontaneous grin splitting her face. Lexa merely shook her head, lips clamping down unnaturally in what was surely an effort to contain any further outbursts.
"You were laughing! I don't think I have ever heard you laugh before."
"I am human, Clarke. I am capable of laughter," she replied with remarkable poise, her eyes darting down to stare for a moment at Clarke's lips before lifting up to her face again, her expression showing none of the embarrassment which Clarke might have expected. Not that she had ever spent time trying to imagine what Lexa's laughter might sound like. No, of course not.
"I know you are human, Lexa… I've always seen that in you, even when I thought I hated you," Clarke said, the words feeling as though they were spilling out of her unbidden from a deep and hidden place.
Lexa turned serious as well, a slight tremor passing through her hands which Clarke could only feel because she was still holding them so tightly.
"And do you…," she started, pausing to bite her lower lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, one which had the effect of drawing and holding Clarke's attention completely on those lips, rather than on the words she was speaking. Her teeth released their hold, and she continued, "… And is there not still a part of you, Clarke, which thinks you might hate me?"
She never got an answer. Or at least, not in so many words. The moment she finished speaking, Clarke slid forward and onto her knees between Lexa's legs, and without waiting for permission, drew her lips against hers, mouth hungry and full of intent. She felt Lexa startle against her when their lips connected, much as Clarke had during the initial moments of the previous kiss they had shared all those months ago. Entire lifetimes, and yet, no time at all spanned between that moment and this one, and just as had happened the first time, all uncertainties melted away as soon as Lexa pressed back into the kiss, a delicious give and take building between them, every shared breath a physical manifestation of the true and soul deep connection they had always shared.
Clarke felt her skin ignite as the kiss continued, lips parting slightly to allow the delicate entrance of Lexa's tongue. She felt her body begin to smolder with the beginnings of true passion, as though it were just now waking from a long hibernation. There had been her brief liaison with Niylah, of course, the woman from the trading post with whom she had felt some trust and no little shared attraction. It had not even been all that long ago, really. Only a matter of weeks. And yet, the landscape of Clarke's soul had altered so completely since coming to Polis that she could hardly recall any significant details from the encounter. She had just wanted another's touch, and to feel connected to humanity once more after being alone for so long. Niylah had given that to her freely, and without restraint or censure. But she had still felt cold… So cold, both before and after, and it was that ice around her heart which had caused her to gather her belongings and slip back out into the night alone.
Not so here, with Lexa. Not so here, where there was only warmth, only comfort and connection. All the pent up desires of an attraction denied and repressed for months burned through their kiss. All of the things she had failed to find in Niylah, in Finn, she was finding right here, in the arms of the young woman right before her. This visionary leader of her people, who felt doomed to endless conflict when all she yearned for was peace for her people. This fascinating, savage, relentless force of nature, who felt so deeply yet dared not show those feelings to the people she cared for. Dared not allow anyone to see how tender her heart truly was lest they destroy it completely. But Clarke saw through it all. Had always seen through it to the person within, the person who could so obviously match her own inner strength and spirit that it both terrified and elated her.
Lexa slowed their kiss and drew back gently, eyes so obviously hooded with desire that it sent Clarke's pulse racing even faster, if that were possible. She searched Clarke's face intently, seeking something. An answer, perhaps, to some unspoken question. Clarke reached up with her left hand, cupping her cheek and drawing their foreheads closer together. The candlelight wrapped around them, encasing the two lovers in its warm glow.
"Do you remember the first words you ever spoke to me on the day that we met?" she whispered, smiling when Lexa nodded yes, their eyes never leaving each other's gaze.
"And do you remember the first words I spoke to you?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Sha," Lexa answered a bit breathily, slipping in to Trigedasleng without thought, the rising flush in her cheeks leaving no doubt that she not only wasn't lying, but that she had caught the deeper meaning behind Clarke's words.
"It's always been true," she whispered, and with that promise between them, their lips came together once again.
You're the one…