AN: After much kicking and screaming and protest, and against my better judgement, I've some how fallen into The 100 fandom. That said, I kind of had to write something.

Anyway, the other day I was thinking about that one episode where Clarke was on a horse. Though this fact seems to escape the majority of TV and movie writers, you don't just get on a horse and ride without at least being taught the basics. So, this happened, because I have no self-control.

(And to those of you who follow me for TLOU, I promise I am still working on those fics. But I got distracted.)

Clarke Griffin had always loved horses. Or, at least, she had loved them in theory. She'd had books on the Ark – yellowed, musty books with loose bindings and bent covers, which had seemed to give them a sort of authority – that had depicted horses of all shapes and sizes, their manes trickling down past their shoulders and their coats glimmering like the stars. It hadn't taken long for her to become infatuated by them. Numerous afternoons had been spent skipping through the halls and imagining a horse beneath her, or sketching them, or talking about them. She had been enchanted.

However, none of this had prepared her for the awe that came with meeting an actual horse, or having the chance to ride one.

"Are you ready?"

It took a moment for Clarke to tear her gaze from Lexa's horse – a gargantuan Friesian mare – in order to meet her eyes. She nodded, her throat dry.

It'd been Lexa's idea, of course. She'd insisted that Clarke would need some form of transportation that wasn't walking, and when Clarke had realized what she'd been implying she'd been almost embarrassingly enthusiastic in agreeing with her.

However, as she eyed the horse's hooves, which were as large and round as dinner plates, and fringed by long black feathering, she started to wonder if she'd made a mistake. She'd known horses would be large in person, but Lexa's mount was a beast. Lexa – who was nearly a head taller than she was already – seemed dwarfed by the mare, though she seemed to take no notice; Lexa handled the horse with the ease she handled her sword.

"Yeah, of course," Clarke said finally, suddenly becoming aware of the sweat that coated her palms, in spite of the cool air.

She swallowed, and then looked at the mare again, reaching out a hand shyly and feeling the horse's nose brush her palm, the feel of it surprisingly soft, like velvet.

"What's her name?"

"Trikova," Lexa said, glancing at the mare fondly, and then turning to scan around the field in which they stood. Clarke followed her gaze. The area wasn't particularly large – perhaps an acre at most – but it was clear enough, with lengthy, golden grass carpeting it, and a throng of trees at its perimeter, forming something like an arena. Lexa had told her that most of their warriors learned there, since it was quiet enough to focus in, but still lay close to Tondc.

Clarke looked back at the mare, who flicked an ear in her direction, peering at her past her long, curling forelock.

"What's her name mean?" she asked, hoping it wasn't too obvious that she was stalling.

"Shadow," Lexa said, turning to meet her eyes. "It's not particularly imaginative, but it fits her."

Clarke couldn't help but agree – the mare's coat was as dark as coal, apart from the areas that caught the sunlight, where instead it shined like the surface of a lake, rippling as the mare shifted. She had seemed to move like a shadow, as well, as Lexa had led her across the field earlier that day, her strides incredibly graceful for such a large animal.

Lexa looked at her questioningly after a minute of silence had passed, with Clarke remaining rooted where she stood in front of the mare.

"Is something wrong, Clarke?"

Clarke quickly shook her head. "No, I just—I haven't actually been around a horse before, you know?"

Lexa lifted her chin, examining Clarke for a moment, and then nodded in understanding.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Clarke took a step toward the horse, and then hesitated once more when she noticed that the mare's back was bare, only an expanse of dark, smooth coat where a saddle should have been.

"Isn't there supposed to be a…"

Clarke hesitated, uncertain of what the grounders would call a saddle. It took a minute for Lexa to catch her implication, but then she shook her head.

"When our warriors learn to ride, they do so with nothing between them and their horse but their clothing. Proper balance is essential – once you have it, the rest will follow."

Though it didn't make her feel any better, Clarke decided there was no point in arguing with Lexa on their traditions.

"Okay," she said, drawing in a deep breath. "That's fine. So, should I just… get on?"

"That is usually how one starts," Lexa replied, her tone so utterly deadpan that Clarke almost wondered if she was teasing her.

Biting back a sardonic remark, Clarke strode up to the horse's right side and stared up at its back. She could just see over its withers, even when standing on her tiptoes.

"That's the wrong side, Clarke," Lexa commented from around the horse, her tone lacking judgment, though Clarke's cheeks colored all the same. "You mount on the left side."

Clarke groaned quietly, and then walked back around the horse's front to join Lexa.

When she hesitated once more, Lexa eyed her questioningly.

"Would you prefer it if I gave a demonstration first?"

Clarke nodded, trying not to appear too relived. "Yeah, that'd be great, Lexa."

Lexa wordlessly stepped to the horse's side, and Clarke moved back to give her room.

As Clarke watched, Lexa fisted a hand in the horse's mane and kicked off the ground, vaulting up onto the mare's back with ease. She straightened up immediately, taking up the slack from the reins, and then pressed her calves into its sides, encouraging the horse on.

Clarke observed as Lexa set Trikova on a large circle around her. Though her posture was always proud on the ground, upon the horse Lexa seemed even more regal, her shoulders back and chest out, chin lifted, her frame tall and poised, matching the horse's arched neck and forward stride in their elegance.

Clarke didn't want to admit to herself how much the image stole her breath.

"You must remember to communicate with your horse," Lexa called, distracting Clarke from her admiration of her temporarily. "A horse wants direction, not just a passenger."

Lexa moved the mare forward into a trot with a firm press of her legs and a cluck, sitting easily as the mare sprung forward, legs moving in long, striding pairs as she continued to orbit around Clarke.

"Once you've formed a connection with your horse, you'll only need to think what you want from them. They'll listen."

After trotting a few more increasingly large circles, Lexa deepened her seat and encouraged the mare into a steady canter, her hips following the motion in a way that Clarke found incredibly distracting.

The longer she observed Lexa ride, the more she noticed just how connected to the horse she really was. She seemed to communicate with the mare with her whole being, her hands in a constant, gentle game of give and take with the reins, controlling the horse's energy, while her legs seemed to bring it to the surface. Sometimes she would cluck to the mare, or speak to her in murmured Trigedasleng. Her body seemed to play a role all its own, her frame tilting back when she went to collect the horse, or twisting with the horse's shoulders when she turned her. The whole thing seemed to be a dance between horse and rider, fluid, elegant, and controlled, a constant exchange of information and direction.

All of Clarke's books had described riding in terms of a craft, talking of things to do and those to avoid. However, Clarke thought, none of the books had ever described it as such an art.

Lexa looked strangely at ease, Clarke realized, as she observed the look of concentration and contentment on Lexa's face. Though the commander rarely seemed truly nervous, she never seemed entirely comfortable either, tension seeming to simmer just beneath the surface of her skin, showing through in the way she held herself, in the subtle tightness of her expression. However, as she rode, she seemed entirely relaxed, her hands soft on the reins, her motions fluid and graceful as she guided the mare around the field.

She looked almost beautiful.

Clarke was so busy trying to understand where that thought had come from that she almost didn't notice where Lexa was guiding the horse until the mare was suddenly going airborne, her knees tucked up to her chest as she cleared the trunk of a fallen oak, which was so large Clarke doubted she could have wrapped her arms around it. Lexa rode the jump with ease, holding herself up off the horse's back, her hands pushed forward to give the mare the freedom she needed to clear it. Once over it, she pushed the horse into a controlled gallop around the edge of the field, her body tilted forward to encourage her on.

Show off, Clarke thought. Lexa was actually showing off.

Eventually, Lexa collected the mare back down and brought her to Clarke, drawing her to a halt beside her.

"Wow," Clarke said, a breathless laugh escaping her throat. "That was impressive."

Lexa tilted her head in acknowledgment. "You can learn. You'll only need practice."

Clarke nodded, watching as Lexa slipped from the horse's back and gathered the reins in her hand beneath its chin.

"Have you had her for long?" Clarke asked, watching as Lexa smoothed a hand down the mare's glistening neck.

"Yes," Lexa said. "I trained her myself."

The pride in Lexa's voice caught Clarke's attention, and she couldn't help but notice the small smile that lingered on the commander's face as she stroked the mare's neck. There was so much affection in the small gesture, as understated as it was. It made something in Clarke's chest twist, though she wasn't sure why.

"Would you like to try now?" Lexa asked, turning to meet her eye. Her expression was soft, the absence of her normal war paint leaving her looking younger than she normally did, and Clarke held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary before responding.

"Yeah, alright, I'm ready. I just hope she listens to me as well as she does to you."

"She will," Lexa reassured her.

When Clarke went to mount, Lexa cupped her hands beside the mare's side, offering Clarke a leg up, and helped to push her up onto the mare's back.

"Remember to keep your knees relaxed," Lexa told her, as Clarke straightened herself up, trying to adjust to the feel of the horse's back beneath her. "Keep them loose, like water. You don't pinch, just touch."

She touched Clarke's calf, encouraging her to press it lightly into the horse's side. Clarke swallowed, and then nodded.

Lexa left her sitting on the horse while she strode to the tree line, returning a moment later with a length of rope with a clip tied to the end. She attached this to the horse's bridle, and then stepped back a few yards, leaving the rope slack between them.

"I'm starting on a leash?" Clarke asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I learned by riding around a field like this entirely on my own for a week until I stopped falling. We don't have that sort of time, Clarke," Lexa replied sharply.

Clarke tried not gawk at her. "No one taught you?"

Lexa hesitated. "Anya explained the basics of it, but I was otherwise left to figure it out on my own."

"How old were you?"

Lexa considered it. "Eleven."

Clarke had a sudden mental image of a tiny Lexa astride one of the hulking horses they rode, dwarfed by it even more than she already was. She imagined her falling all that way to the ground again and again, and getting back on each time until she finally mastered the art. The idea was somewhere between amusing and pitiful, and Clarke snorted quietly, shaking her head dismissively when Lexa raised an eyebrow.

"So, what do I do?" Clarke asked.

Lexa looked at her for a moment, her eyes thoughtful, and Clarke realized she was going to be in for an interesting afternoon.

They started with walking. Clarke had thought she couldn't screw that up, but she had been wrong.

"Soften your hands, Clarke," Lexa called, her name falling sharply from her mouth, clicking at the 'k.' "Think of it as talking to her with your hands, rather than shouting."

Five minutes later, Lexa was telling her to pick up the slack from her reins.

Later, Clarke discovered that the trot was similar to the horseback equivalent of heavy turbulence. She spent a good twenty minutes desperately trying to avoid being bounced right off of the mare's back, Lexa coaching her all the while, a hand resting on her hip while the other held the mare's rope, her brows furrowed in concentration as she observed her.

Clarke liked cantering much more, the motion of it akin to a swaying, rather than a jolting. However, the wind rushing past her ears made it hard to hear Lexa's critiques.

Eventually, Lexa took her off the lunge line and let her make her own circles around her, still calling out directions as Clarke learned to master her new controls.

"Sit back if you want her to slow down, Clarke. Use your weight."

"She's not stopping—"

"Order her, Clarke! Don't be afraid."

And later:

"Am I falling? I feel like I'm going to fall."

"Stop thinking about it, and think about relaxing."

And then:

"Wonderful, Clarke. Keep doing that."

"What exactly am I doing—"

"Never mind. You just stopped. Square your shoulders."

And so on.

While she learned quite a lot that afternoon about horseback riding, she learned even more about Lexa. For example, she learned she was a strangely effective and patient teacher, who liked to use metaphors to explain things – "Imagine your hips are a pail of water. Keep them level and relaxed, so nothing jars and spills." – and who seemed to approach riding in the same way she approached everything, with a relaxed air of authority. She learned that Lexa chewed at her lip when she was focusing intently on something, and that she was terrible at hiding her exasperation when she did get impatient. And, finally, she learned that Lexa was never satisfied until everything was perfect.

By the time Lexa had decided that Clarke's riding was satisfactory, the sun had sunk behind the trees, and twilight had descended on the field, bathing the world in a faded periwinkle, the crescent moon hanging in the sky like a sideways smile.

"How'd I do?" Clarke asked breathlessly, as she slid down from the mare's back, landing on shaky legs on the ground beside her. Her legs felt like lead, and sweat left her shirt clinging to her back – she hadn't realized staying on a horse would be such a workout.

"You did well," Lexa said, and when Clarke met her eyes she was certain she saw something there, and in the set of her mouth, that she thought just might have been pride.

They held each other's gazes for a moment, and then Lexa glanced up, as if suddenly becoming aware of the time of day.

"We should head back," she said. "They'll be expecting us."

Clarke nodded in agreement, too exhausted to bother forming an actual sentence.

"You can ride with me," Lexa said, remounting the horse with ease, and then offering a hand down to Clarke. Clarke hesitated, the onset of soreness in her legs making her reluctant to get back on, but she eventually took Lexa's hand and scrambled back on behind her.

"Thank you," Clarke said suddenly, as she felt Lexa move the mare forward into a trot. "I – your help means a lot."

She saw Lexa nod. "It's fine… Clarke."

Lexa sent the mare into a canter, and Clarke wrapped her arms around her waist loosely to keep her balance. For a moment, she thought she felt Lexa's breath hitch, but decided that she had imagined it.

As they traveled back to camp, the world silent around them apart from the rhythmic drumming of the mare's footfalls, Clarke rested her chin on Lexa's shoulder. Though it was dark, Clarke could have sworn she saw Lexa smile.