She doesn't see another person for six weeks. When Clarke finally does, she's not sure if she wants to run away or towards him.
He sits about a hundred yards away from her, a small fire next to him. The meat he's roasting smells heavenly. Clarke hasn't eaten more than a few berries in weeks. After her provisions and ammo ran out, she was forced to eat the berries that grew on the east bank of the river. They hurt her stomach, but they didn't kill her, so she marks that in the win column. Every day she tried to hunt, but spears weren't her forte. Trying to catch fish was completely out of the question after she almost drown in the river two weeks ago.
So that left her with one option: approach the grounder before her and cross her fingers he was friendly. Clarke sighs and stuffs her gun in the back of her pants. There was one bullet left she was saving for an emergency. She really doesn't want to use it on him.
She approaches slowly, trying not to make any noise, but knows her stealth still needs work. She makes it halfway to the man when she hears –
"Clarke of the Sky People."
Her cheeks flush when she realizes how much she jumped in surprise. She hopes the grounder didn't see, but judging from the look on his face as he turns around he caught the show.
"Come," he says as he motions toward the fire. "Dinner is almost ready."
Clarke knows this might be a trap, but the smell of meat is messing with her brain and all she can focus on is food. Her feet carry her to the fire quickly with little to no care for her wellbeing. When she stops in front of the grounder, she can't shake the feeling that she's seen him before.
"My name is Varil," he says as she tries to place his face. He quirks an eyebrow and hands her a stick of meat. When he turns back to stoke the fire, Clarke sees an angry red patch of skin, a healing burn.
She swallows around the lump in her throat.
"You were in Tondc."
Varil just nods and bites into his piece of meat. Clarke stares at her own longingly before extending her hand to give it back to him, even while her stomach growls at her angrily. She doesn't want to take any more from the man than she already has and prays he didn't lose any loved ones to the missile.
"Eat."
"I don't have anything to trade you."
He stares at her for a moment while he finishes chewing. "You don't need to. My brother was in the Mountain. I owe you much more than a meal."
Clarke clenches her fist and tears her eyes away from Varil.
"The Commander rescued your brother."
"That may be true, but you defeated the Mountain. My people owe you a great debt."
She wants to argue. Wants to spill her anger out as the flashes of dead faces fill her vision, but somehow she finds the strength to keep it together. This was not the time or place to fall apart.
Across from her, Varil looks pointedly at her stick of meat as he raises his own up to take a bite. After a moment she does the same.
/ / /
The next thing she knows, Varil is poking her with his boot. She bolts upright, disoriented and defensive before she remembers where she is. The early morning sun starts to peak through the trees as Clarke clears the fog from her tired mind. She must have fallen asleep at some point last night. Well, at least now she knows for sure that Varil has no intention of killing her, considering how easy of a target she's made herself.
"Time to leave, Skai Prisa."
She rolls her eyes at the name. She hated it when the grounders started using it, mockingly at first, but it stuck even when they'd come to follow her commands.
"Where are we going," Clarke says trying to stifle a yawn.
Varil stomps out the last of the fire. For a moment Clarke just watches as the wisps of smoke float from the ground toward the sky, inevitably blown away by the wind before they make it far. She thinks there's a metaphor for her life somewhere there, but she's too tired to figure it out.
"To Polis. If we leave now we'll make it by sundown."
"The capitol?"
Varil nods as he turns from her and heads down a nearby path.
"What if I don't want to go?"
"I am not forcing you," he says without turning. "But you will starve here on your own."
Clarke wants to scoff, to yell back at him that she can take care of herself, but he was right. She was well on her way to starving before Varil showed up. The thought of Polis intrigued her after all.
"Am I going to be welcome there?" she asks thinking of three hundred dead warriors. The last thing she wants to do is walk into a hostile situation. She'd just finished one war and didn't want to start another.
"Sha," Varil slows his pace to let her catch up. "My people are in your debt for destroying the Mountain. Heda has placed you under her protection."
That stops Clarke in her tracks. She clenches her fists as a wave of anger courses through her. For the past few weeks she had tried so hard to push thoughts of Lexa away, but the sting of betrayal went hand in hand with the thoughts of death from the Mountain. Leave it to Lexa to place her under her protection after leaving her to die.
"Whole lot of good that's done me," she says under her breath, eyes closed as she releases the newly built up tension from her body. When she opens them again Varil has turned to look at her with an unreadable expression on his face. It was strange to see none of the mirth his eyes usually held.
"The Maunon are not the only danger in these words," Varil says, his voice gravely and full of warning. He stares at Clarke for a moment until he's certain he got his point across, then turns and continues down the path.
She can't help but wonder what dangers he meant and what kind of disasters she unknowingly avoided.
/ / /
By the time they arrive at the gates of Polis the sun has nearly set and Clarke's coat does little to stifle to chill of the evening. There's a dampness in the air that hints at rain.
Judging by the huge wall, Polis must be massive. Clarke marvels at the size as they make their way up the path to the gate. When she looks up she can faintly see the outlines of guards patrolling the top of the wall.
The big metal gates start to open as they approach. The two guards nod to Varil as he walks through purposefully. She moves to follow him, but two large bodies move in front of her to block the path. Before she can say anything, she hears Varil grunt in annoyance.
"Sky Prisa," he explains.
The guard on the left, a boy younger than her, with a baby face and soft eyes, raises his eyebrows in surprise and moves out of her way quickly, his head bowed slightly in reverence. The other guard however, a large man around Kane's age, stares at her appraisingly and doesn't move.
Clarke glares back at him and fights the urge to roll her eyes, but instead she moves past him and falls back into step behind Varil.
"I thought you said I'd be welcome."
Varil laughs and spares a glance back at the guards. "Pay no attention to Maurice. He's old and resents his post as gate guard."
Instead of taking her through the heart of the city, Varil takes a left and they follow the outline of the wall for a while. By now night had fully fallen and the streets were dark. Clarke couldn't make out much, but she thinks the buildings they were walking by were marketplaces, all of which were boarded up for the night. She wants to ask Varil about the secrecy, but senses he's tiring of her questions.
"Sure is quiet around here," she says.
"Heda will introduce you to the people of Polis when she returns."
"Wait, Lexa's not here?"
The grounder eyes her at the informal mention of Lexa's name, but doesn't push the issue.
"There was a fire in a village to the south," he says instead. "Heda will return within the week."
The fire instead Clarke dies quickly. The entire journey to Polis had been spent trying to psych herself up to seeing Lexa again. Trying to figure out what to say, how to play it, and fortifying that newly built wall around her heart.
Now Lexa's not even here and all the strength she's built up fades away quickly.
Clarke can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed.
Varil brings her to a brick building with large white columns around the door. From what she could see in the dark, there used to be a dome in the center of the roof, but most of it had been destroyed.
"This is where Heda lives," Varil says before she can ask the question. He leads her to a large room on the second floor where a meal sits prepared for her.
"Someone will be by in the morning."
She nods and watches him turn to leave.
"Thank you," she says sincerely.
Varil just nods and softly closes the door behind him.
/ / /
By the time she wakes, the sun has already started its descent toward the horizon.
Clarke barely remembers making it to the bed last night and wouldn't have been surprised if she had just passed out on the floor where Varil left her. With a groan, she stretches and makes her way out of bed.
As promised, there's an array of food waiting for her. She quickly inhales a few pieces of dried meat before reaching out for a piece of bread. Clarke's glad no one else is with her because this display of gluttony was truly embarrassing.
A soft knock comes from her door just after she's stuffed a handful of nuts into her mouth.
"Come in," she calls. It comes out muffled, but whoever's on the other side must have understood because the door slowly opens.
Clarke almost chokes when she sees who it is.
Lexa strides in with purpose, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat drip down her face, streaking her war paint and sending little black streaks down her face.
Their eyes lock immediately. Clarke watches as Lexa looks her over, seemingly surprised that she's actually standing there. Clarke tries to wipe the surprised look off her face, but knows she's failing.
"Varil said you wouldn't be back until the end of the week."
"I left as soon as I heard you arrived in Polis. The village can rebuild without me."
Lexa's lips quirk up in a small smile and it's all Clarke needs to snap out of her dumbfounded trance. She straightens her spine and glares at the woman in front of her.
"I'm surprised you cared enough to come see me. Don't your people come first?"
The Commander's face falls, for just an instant, before her mask is back in place. That small sign of weakness, a millisecond of hurt, brings Clarke a cruel sense of joy. She knows she should care what that says about her, but now that Lexa is in front of her all Clarke wants to do is unload her anger on her.
"Clarke, I made the best decision for my people. You have proven that you would do the same."
Despite the soft tone it feels like a slap and only adds fuel to Clarke's fire.
"I wouldn't have had to do it, to kill all those people, if you hadn't abandoned me."
Something passes through Lexa's eyes and Clarke thinks she's about to get the fight she's craved for weeks. Instead Lexa takes a step back.
"I am glad you arrived unharmed. A guard is in the hall for your protection. He will see to anything you need."
The Commander turns to leave as Clarke takes a few steps toward her. She wants to reach out to stop her, to yell until her voice is hoarse, but she can't make her body move.
"I will send someone to draw you a bath," Lexa says with her back still to her. "You could use one."
/ / /
It turns out her guard is the boy from the gate. His name is Doran and for as tough as he his, he also seems to be a little afraid of Clarke. Maybe afraid isn't the right word. Intimidated.
Clarke can't help but wonder if his presence is meant as a punishment for her or for him.
He's tall and lanky, but clearly very strong. His floppy dark hair reminds her of Bellamy. The thought makes her heart clench. Leaving her people is just another reason for her guilt.
Doran leads her down the streets of Polis. He shows her the marketplace, the stone works and blacksmiths. Clarke marvels at the crafts and art she sees. Aside from Lincoln, she didn't the grounders had much of an appreciation for art.
Polis will change the way you think about us.
Clarke shakes the voice from her head and follows Doran out of the market and into a quieter part of the city. They pass large buildings used as lodging for travelers and stables. She stops when they near a large brick building that looks like Lexa's house. Once again she marvel's at the size of it.
"What's this?"
"Library."
Clarke stares at him in disbelief. "This entire building is a library?"
"Sha."
"Can we go in?" she asks already taking a step forward. It only takes a second for Doran to move in front of her. She raises a questioning eyebrow and he withers slightly under it.
He clears his throat and look anywhere but in her eyes. "Heda says the library is only for those capable of rational thought."
Clarke stares at him mouth agape. She knows a dig when she hears one and can almost see the glint in Lexa's eyes when she gave Doran the message.
"I'm assuming that means me?"
The young warrior just gives her a sheepish shrug.
/ / /
Clarke sees Lexa again the next afternoon.
She's eating lunch in the courtyard, Doran standing dutifully behind her. She's halfway through her meal when Lexa ambles into the square.
Clarke has half a mind to go over and finish their conversation from the other day, but then she notices the Commander's not alone. Luna walks with her, the two women deep in conversation. Judging by the engrossed look on Lexa's face, she's enthralled in the story the leader of the Boat clan is telling.
It makes something violent stir low in Clarke's gut.
"The look you are giving Heda is tantamount to war."
Her eyes dart up to meet Varil's smirking face.
"Yeah, well what isn't these days?"
He grunts a laugh and sits next to her.
"She rode all night to see you."
Her gaze flitters back to Lexa. Clarke knows she shouldn't be, but she's annoyed Lexa hasn't acknowledged her presence yet.
"I didn't ask her to."
"We often don't ask for the things we really need."
Clarke groans. "Why are you telling me this?"
"I brought you here. If you cause trouble it will reflect poorly on me." He says it seriously, but she can hear the underlying mirth in his tone. "How is Doran performing? It is a great honor to protect the Sky Prisa."
She glances back at her guard, whose eyes stare stoically ahead.
"I thought it was a punishment."
"It is both an honor and a learning experience," Lexa's voice causes Clarke to jump. She's really got to stop doing that, especially in front of the Commander. Lexa stands a few feet in front of her, Luna nowhere in sight.
"You would have someone teach him who is incapable of rational thought?"
Lexa dips her head slightly, but Clarke doesn't miss the way the corners of her lips rise. She's composed again when her gaze returns to the blonde.
"I have given Doran the opportunity to learn from a great warrior. One who will teach him honor and respect."
The sincerity in Lexa's tone takes the edge off Clarke's anger. When their eyes lock, Clarke can tell Lexa's looking for something. By the brief wave of sadness that flashes across her face, Clarke can tell that she either didn't see what she was looking for or didn't like what she did.
/ / /
After almost a week in Polis, Clarke's feeling restless.
She spends her days exploring the city, discovering new things about the people, but she's itching for something to do. Something with purpose.
It's strange to her, this newfound sense of responsibility. Since she fell from the sky, her days have been filled with survival and making tough decisions. She didn't think she'd miss it, hell that's part of the reason she left Camp Jaha, but the need to help people, to be useful, burns through her veins and makes her hands shake with idleness.
Clarke thinks of all the things she could be doing. Training with the warriors. Attending council meetings. Even trying to make peace with Lexa. (That one's much easier said than done.)
She also thinks about what her people are up to. If they looked for her. If they worried about her. She thinks of Raven and her mother. The long road of healing ahead of them. Of Jasper, the rage and grief that consumes him. She thinks of how sad and broken Monty was when she hugged him. She worries about how Bellamy's fared asserting his leadership among the adults on the Ark.
But not once does she think about leaving.
/ / /
Purpose is given to her the next morning when Nyko arrives with wounded from the village fire. He requests her help with treating the burns and some of the more serious injuries. Clarke's relieved to finally have something to do. She and Nyko work well together, stitching people up and applying salves. It's the best day she's had in weeks.
That is until a little girl is carried in, burns all over her hands and face. It sends Clarke back to the Mountain. Images of burned children just like her flood her vision and she stumbles out of the healer's hut, panic rising in her chest.
The rain is coming down so hard Clarke can barely see in front of her. Not like it matters, she doesn't care where she's going. She just needs to get far away. Now.
After a few minutes of frantic running she trips and falls with a squishy thud. Clarke squeezes her eyes shut and leans forward, her hands twisting in the thick mud. She tries to push the faces out of her mind. Of the children. Of Maya. Of the innocent people who got caught in a war they never knew was being raged.
A hand on her shoulder startles her and her eyes blink open to find Lexa crouched down in front of her, eyes full of compassion. Clarke pushes her hand away and bolts up in anger.
"You don't get to do that," she yells over the rain. "You don't get to look at me like that."
"And how is that, Clarke?" Lexa's voice is raised as well, but it's full of sympathy not anger.
"Like you care! Like you understand!"
"But I do, Clarke."
Without thinking Clarke takes a furious step toward Lexa and pushes her with muddy hands. It knocks the Commander off balance, but she recovers quickly.
"No you don't!"
She pushes Lexa again, but with less force. The Commander barely has to take a step back.
"If you did you wouldn't have left me on that mountain to die!"
Clarke expects Lexa to rise to the bait. Expects a lesson on responsibility and leadership. She waits on baited breath, but nothing happens. Lexa just stares at her with an unreadable expression. Clarke moves to shove her again, but instead her hands curl around the lapels of the Commander's coat.
"Why won't you fight me!?" she yells again. Clarke can hear the desperation in her tone and feel the tears start to roll down her cheeks and mix with the rain.
The storm starts to ease. The violent flow of rain has eased into a light shower. Lexa lowers her voice to match. Her tone as calm as it's ever been, but her eyes are what break Clarke. They're filled with such care and reverence that Clarke has to look away.
"A fight may be what you want, but it is not what you need. Trust me. I was prepared to lay waste to an entire nation to quell my rage. It would not have changed anything. Fighting me will not ease your pain, Clarke."
"Then what will?" she pleads with a breaking voice. "I just want it gone, Lexa."
"I know."
The fight leaves her all at once. Clarke stares into Lexa's eyes pleading for some sort of absolution or release, but finds none.
"You will carry this forever, Clarke," Lexa says quietly. "War is easy. Living with yourself after is the hard part."
Lexa gently grasps Clarke's wrists and eases them from her coat. "We should get inside before the next storm hits."
All Clarke can do is nod and follow the Commander.
/ / /
She's not sure how she ends up at Lexa's door, but she does.
Clarke wants to apologize for pushing her, for trying to pick a fight.
Lexa's guard Garin is standing near the door and she has every intention of letting herself in like she did all those times into Lexa's tent, but then she thinks of Lexa's quiet knock and decides to afford Lexa the same respect the Commander has shown her.
Garin's gruff voice interrupts her before her knuckles meet the door.
"You may enter, Skai Prisa."
"I don't want to interrupt if she's busy."
Garin stares at her like she's dense and lets out a barely concealed huff. "You may enter," he repeats.
With a shrug, Clarke reaches for the doorknob and enters the room quietly. She can't make out many details in the dark, but the room is massive. Easily twice the size of the one she's been staying in. A few clusters of candles are lit around the space, casting a dull glow through the room.
"Lexa?" she calls quietly.
When there's no answer, Clarke takes a few more hesitant steps into the room. There's a door open across from a large four poster bed and Clarke figures that's where Lexa has disappeared to.
She finds her on the balcony sitting with her legs tucked under her on padded bench, eyes staring out into the darkness of the night sky. She's wearing tight shorts that cut off mid-thigh and a simple long sleeve shirt that looks to be two sizes too big for her. With the armor and the paint and the weapons stripped from her, Lexa looks so small. Clarke wonders if this is the first time she's seeing the real Lexa, the girl underneath the battle hardened layers of the Commander.
With her wet hair and her hands curled into the ends of her shirt, Lexa could be mistaken for an ordinary teenage girl. Clarke wonders how long it's been since the Commander has just been Lexa, has let herself just be a normal teenage girl. Clarke knows the answer is probably too long ago and her heart clenches at the thought.
"Would you like to sit or are you going to stand there and stare at me all night?"
Clarke flushes when Lexa's amused eyes flick over to hers. She composes herself as best she can and takes a seat at the far end of the bench. She sits there stiffly and stares straight ahead, only letting herself relax when Lexa's eyes drift from her back to the night sky.
The silence stretches between them, but for the first time in since she arrived in Polis it's not heavy. It's nice, to just be able to be with someone again. She remembers back when her dad would take her to the big bay window on the Ark. They'd sit on the bench for hours in silence, staring out at the Earth below them. Clarke relished those times, when words didn't have to be said. This may be the first time since landing on the ground that she's been able to do that. She thinks she should be surprised that Lexa is the one person in the world she could be alone with, but she's not. For a woman bathed in war, there's something so still and peaceful about Lexa. In times like this it make Clarke want to hold on to her and never let go.
"What did we look like?" Lexa says breaking the quiet. Her voice is soft, almost like she's afraid speaking too loudly will disrupt this new peace between them. "From the sky?"
Clarke keeps her eyes on the stars as she remembers those days with her father. "Green," she says after a moment.
A small rush of air escapes Lexa's lips and Clarke whips her head around at the sound. That's the closest thing she's heard to a laugh from the Commander.
"And blue," she adds as her lips tick upward.
This time Lexa actually laughs softly, erasing the final wisps of tension that floated between them. When amused green eyes meet hers, Clarke vows to do whatever she can to hear that sound again.
"I saw a photograph when I was young, a postcard actually. There was a picture of a beach, the brightest blue I'd ever seen, below it was written 'wish you were here.' For weeks I would go to the library just to stare at it. Wondering what it would be like to feel my feet in the sand or to float on the waves. That's what the earth looked like to me. It always filled me with such wonder and peace."
Lexa stares at her for a moment, her expression unreadable.
"I had a place like that once," Lexa says, so quietly that Clarke can't be sure she actually said it.
Their eyes lock for a brief moment before Lexa's gaze returns to the sky. Clarke watches as her face becomes a still mask once again, the Commander swallowing Lexa whole.