Summary: So I wrote this one- shot after seeing so many posts about Lexa's obsession with candles. Thinking how nice and fluffy it could be told from the candlemakers POV as Lexa grows and becomes the person she becomes, though his understanding of her is vague. And how her presence no matter how limited impacts just one person amongst her people. Please let me know what you think. Comments are always welcomed and greatly appreciated.
My workshop is empty save for me and the soft buzzing of bees whose home sits several paces from where I sit. Their hum a constant comfort as I toil away, my movements practiced and sure. Grab a string, dip, let dry, grab another, dip, let dry, working on ten candles at once. It is a slow tedious process one that requires the aid of many, but my shop is now closed for the day, I am the candlemaker.
I had met my Little Bee when she was but a small whip of a thing, barely 9 summers old, who had been given a moments reprieve from the burdens she would one day possibly shoulder. She was one of the smaller ones, but her quiet green eyes held a fierceness that spoke of deep love and wisdom. Her apparent youth belying the age of her soul. I had mixed feelings about whether I wanted her to triumph, aware vaguely, of what it meant if she did. She would have a life of sacrifice, and often times pain. Giving up her choices to serve her people, to serve me, a candlemaker.
Before her visit I had lost the spark for life, I was grumpy and short of temper. Candle making can be boring and monotonous, the candles shape specific and same; but it can also be calming, the repetitive movements offering a break from the troubles of your day. I, had become stuck in the dull aspect my craft. My Little Bee changed that for me.
Her visits had always been periodic, coming in when she had the time, sometimes bruised and battered, exhausted from her training. I always knew when she was near, her steps excited and filled with joy. My little shop had become her sanctuary, her face alight when she was fortunate enough to find me working.
Her bright smile and infectious excitement over candles had become energy, vitality giving me back some of the vigor I had lost over the years of perfecting my trade. So to thank her, one visit I sent my kru away and offered to teach her my craft. Without thinking she agreed, but soon sadness flickered over her features when she realized her error knowing she couldn't be as dedicated to this endeavor as the one chosen for her. I assured her it was fine, my offer a means for her to escape the rigors of life, nothing more. After a time, hesitantly she agreed.
I didn't realize fully what her presence as pupil would mean to me. She would come at the same time when she could. Always an hour before I closed. My kru had come to know that when she appeared they would be asked to leave, so I change my schedule to fit her. This was our time, our shared moment of peace engrossed in making candles.
When the sacred Spirit, found her worthy; I had thought her visit would cease, a sadness descended upon me at the though, my pupil had become like a daughter, someone I could tell my day to and who would listen offering words of attentiveness and encouragement. I, in turn would listen as she sighed and huffed, offering to her my silence and understanding or short stories I hoped would help.
As my fear of losing her had begun to overtake me I didn't notice when my kru finished their work, leaving me alone with my Little Bee, who silently waited by the door. I was over joyed when she walked into my shop as usual, now accompanied by guards. She smiled, and sat down.
I bowed to her awkward at this newness between us, but she waved the action away, not wanting it from me. I couldn't help it, so instead adopting a slight nod of greeting we both knew it for what it was. So our time continued, specific and organized now, always on the same day at the same time, I had become an important appointment that couldn't be cancelled.
One day, she came to me, her guards standing outside the door as usual. Her eyes, dull and haunted. Without a word, she sat down, grabbing a string and went about her task. Eventually her movements slowed and then stopped as she stare down at the heated wax seeing something that wasn't there. I went to touch her to offer comfort of some kind, she flinched from my hand, her head snapping up torment filling her dulled, haunted green specks. A hurried apology and goodbye.
My Little Bee had stopped coming after that. I had found out why, her Love had been killed, taken from her in the most gruesome of ways. My Little Bee's heart had been hardened, changing her. She had become ruthless and cruel. Her spark had been diminished, I had hoped she would come so I could give her some back. She never returned.
As the summers past, a new rumor had started a whisper of a golden haired girl with bright sky blue eyes that was allowed to challenge the Commander unpunished. I had become curious and sought out information where I could, besides what I had heard, no one knew anything more. So again I hoped for the return of my Little Bee, again I was to be disappointed.
So I worked, keeping the to the new hours she had set, hoping daily for her return. Talking as though she was there when my kru left for the day, reliving the days events. She had changed me from the grumpy, short tempered man, to one that sought out stories from his customer so that I would always have something to tell her, something to distract her mind from her troubles. So I would engage and listen, the result was my customers left happy and I had stories to tell my Little Bee.
Tonight, so taken by my wondering thoughts that I hadn't heard my door creak open. "Hello teacher," came a voice I hadn't heard in many summers.
"Little Bee," I breathed slowly turning, my heart like a racing horse in my chest.
She stood to the side, her face shadowed and unsure, as I rushed to stand before her, stopping short of embracing her. It wasn't my place. Thankfully she did it for me, crossing the little space between us, her arms awkwardly wrapping around my waist of my slightly taller frame. Carefully gently resting my chin on her head. The moment passed quickly before she began to back away.
"Forgive my tardiness," she began but I would hear none of it. She was here that was all that mattered.
She smiled then, a ghost of her old one, but different. This one was tinge by some unknown powerful emotion. It was brighter, more full. I was both overjoyed and saddened by its existence. Turning her head slightly to the side while reaching her hand in that direction. I saw a small pale hand reach out it's fingers intertwining with her longer slender ones.
"This is Clarke kom skaikru," Little Bee spoke softly, deferential. As a golden haired bright sky blue eyed girl came to stand by her side. Their hands still woven together. The happiness shining between their blue and green eyes profound.
So again, my Little Bee has returned. For a time she was rusty, but making candles is simple string, dip, dry, and her ease and calm returned as I told her all the stories I had collected for her. Sometimes she would bring Clarke and I would watch the simple everyday interactions of two strong leaders at the end of a busy day. They never spoke of their responsibilities instead laughing and making fun of each other and their faults. I listened content during those times, remembering the young natblida warrior who would one day, become the Commander of the 12 Clans, now 13. The young girl who had found solace in the simply motions in making candles and who fell in loved with a girl from the sky who fell a mountain.
I am her candlemaker.