"Do you ever talk about anything other than your death?" Clarke asked mockingly.
Lexa smiled, softly, and knew they were both in on the joke. Wanheda herself, tired of talking about death. The irony of it.
"Ok, well then let's talk about something else."
Lexa knew she had caught Clarke off-guard. She tried to remember any other conversations they had that didn't revolve around war, mortality or major life-changing decisions. Then she remembered one: they were at the doors of Mount Weather, before Lexa made a choice that brought their world crashing around their ears. Lexa had asked Clarke to come to Polis, she had hoped that their alliance, and their friendship would have grown over the summer.
"I was happy that you finally took me up on the offer to come to Polis," Lexa said carefully, trying to avoid bringing up the context of the offer.
"It's not exactly how I pictured the trip going," Clarke said, relaxing a little. She laid back on the leather sofa they were sharing and turned her body towards Lexa. She started playing with her hair, inspecting the split ends it had incurred from her time on the run.
"I know," Lexa said. "It's not how I imagined it either."
"How–" Clarke stopped herself. "How did you imagine it?" she asked, with feigned nonchalance. She was still playing with the thin braid, twirling it with her fingers, and looked up at Lexa slowly.
"Less yelling about my imminent murder, I think," Lexa said with a smirk.
"Funny," Clarke said, throwing what was left of the bandage right at Lexa's head.
"Hey," Lexa said playfully. "I was just in a grueling death-match. Easy with the violence."
"Sorry, Commander."
"You are forgiven."
They were both smiling, happy to feel at home in each other's company. The candles that surrounded them had sunk low into the wax, casting a dim, dancing orange glow around the room. Lexa reclined into the cushions behind her and watched Clarke fiddle with her braids for a few seconds. She held her eyes on her nimble fingertips, her knuckles white from scarring, but her palms smooth from growing up in space. Lexa felt her own calluses with her thumbs, raspy little bumps on the bottom of her index from wielding swords since she was a little girl. She looked past Clarke's hands at her hair, finally its normal shade – it reminded her of the golden straw in the fields of the Plains Riders. She had seen it on her tour with the Coalition: glowing and rustling, like yellow, glimmering water, making waves on the land. But she noticed, Clarke's hair was dry, knotted and badly braided. Clarke was always in a hurry, in a hurry to hatch a new plan or get herself killed, that she hardly had time to spend on her hair. Lexa knew that her own braids reflected her powers, so why shouldn't Wanheda's reflect hers?
"Let me help you with those," Lexa said, motioning to the rat's nest of a mane Clarke was fidgeting with.
"Oh, no, you don't have to," Clarke said embarrassed.
"I know. I want to," Lexa said plainly.
Clarke looked down and blushed a little.
"Seriously, get over here. Heda's orders."
Clarke rolled her eyes, and sighed in defeat. She pushed herself off the comfortable leather cushions and sat close to Lexa, as close as she'd ever been since they –
"Turn around please," the Commander ordered again.
Clarke did as she was told. She turned slightly, grabbed her small ivory brush from the table next to her and handed it to Lexa over her shoulder. Lexa inspected the brush, running her fingers over the engraving.
"Where did you get this? It's nice."
"I got it at a trading post," Clarke said quietly. "When I was, you know," she trailed off.
"I see."
"Yeah."
"It's nice. You have good taste, Clarke of the Sky People."
"Thank you, Lexa."
Lexa started undoing Clarke's braids carefully, she didn't want to pull to hard but there was a lot to undo. She smiled at herself, when she realized how casual they were all of a sudden. It was nice, it was nice to have a friend like Clarke.
"I like when you call me that," Lexa said, deftly undoing all the braids.
"What?"
"Lexa."
"That's your name isn't it?"
"Yes. But there are few in my life allowed to call me by my name."
This struck Clarke as unbearably sad. Clarke had a whole camp, Arkadia, that called her name constantly. They asked for her, not her title not her position as their leader, but her – Clarke. Her life was a constant tug of Clarke-can-fix-this and Clarke-will-help-us and Clarke-has-an-idea, and filled with Clarke-is-my-friend and Clarke-is-my-daughter. But here was the most powerful woman on Earth, with everyone coveting her strength, her power, her throne, but never her company. It suddenly made sense why she was here, on the eve of her victory against the Ice Nation, talking to a girl she hardly knew, brushing her hair. Lexa had advisors, and followers and generals, but no one to really confide in. Clarke thought of Costia, and how Lexa squared her shoulders and stared at nothing, when she was mentioned. She thought of the first night Lexa had to be without her, how much it would have hurt to feel so alone.
"I think it's a lovely name."
"Thank you. It was my mother's."
"I didn't know you had a mother," Clarke said, before she realized how stupid that sounded.
"Everyone has a mother, Clarke," Lexa said, with that tone in her voice that teetered on mocking and serious, but Clarke could hear the smile in her voice.
"It's been a long day," Clarke said with a sigh and laugh.
"Tell me about it."
"Tell me about your mother," said Clarke, closing her eyes and focusing on the soft caress of the brush on her hair. Lexa was being extremely gentle, she knew, and Clarke was growing dizzy under her touch.
"She and my father lived in Tondc," Lexa said matter-of-factly. "We lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. My father rode between villages with meat and grains to trade, so it was mostly my mother, sister and me."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
"I did."
"What happened?"
"Raid," Lexa said dryly.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"No it's alright. That was the way things were, Clarke. The clans were always fighting, for food, land, weapons, for anything," Lexa explained, with the wisdom of someone far beyond her years. "My sister was getting water, filling up two pails instead of one, and it took her too long to get back. A rogue warrior on horseback cut her down on her way home. She was 14."
"Lexa, I'm so sorry," Clarke said, turning to face her. Her hands had stopped brushing and laid on her lap, as she looked away. Clarke touched her face lightly with her hand and turned it towards her own. "You've made it safe for all the other little girls fetching water, it has made it safe for everyone. You're extraordinary."
Lexa reached up and placed her hand over Clarke's, still cupping her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling the warmth of comfort and care and honesty. Clarke still stared at her, feeling unprecedented affection for the girl that acted so strong in front of the world, but still carried the pain of her loss on her sleeve. She worked so hard to make sure no one else suffered like she did, she made sure the lives of the Grounders were stable, safe and fair. Lexa could be ruthless, unwavering, and calculating, but now – Clarke saw – it was because she had to be, for the sake of everyone on the ground. Clarke's chest swelled with overwhelming affection for Lexa, who looked so small sitting in front of her, leaning against her hand as if she hadn't been touched like that in years.
Clarke didn't realize what had happened, but in a split second, her body pushed her forward and she found herself a millimeter away from Lexa's lips, feeling the warmth of her breath and smelling the cool and fresh scent of her hair. Lexa felt the proximity of Clarke while her eyes were still closed, and opened them in time to meet the pale blue and gray of Clarke's eyes. Lexa closed them again and leaned forward just the slightest, so their bottom lips brushed each other. She had made the mistake of going in too strong the first time, so Lexa was determined to let Clarke take the next step. She heard Clarke's breath grow a little more ragged, still so close, still waiting for more, and in a second she was met with Clarke's mouth on hers, gently at first then bold with confidence.
Clarke reached up and placed her hands on either side of Lexa's face. She pulled her in closer, while Lexa rested her hands on Clarke's hips, stroking the soft blue satin of her nightgown. They kissed slowly, tugging on each other's bottom lips letting their tongues meet once in a while – but losing themselves in the warmth of their breaths and tangle of Clarke's hands in Lexa's hair and Lexa's hands all over Clarke's lithe frame.
"Mmmmm…" Clarke felt Lexa say into her mouth. The vibrations of the low moan tickling her lips and vibrating off her teeth. She smiled into their kiss.
They parted for a second and rested on each other's forehead.
"Hi," said Clarke.
"Hello," said Lexa.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Clarke said flirtatiously. Her eyes were closed, but her hands found Lexa's and intertwined their fingers.
Clarke gave her a swift and soft kiss on the lips.
"Would you like to keep helping me with my hair?" Clarke motioned at the half-smooth, half-frizzed blonde tangles.
Lexa smiled warmly and nodded, blushing.
Clarke turned around again and handed Lexa the brush. Lexa continued to brush quietly, smiling at herself and trying to get her breathing down to normal. Her mind was reeling, her heart has beating faster than ever. She couldn't believe what was happening.
"Hmmmm," Clarke hummed happily, and brought Lexa back to the present.
Lexa continued brushing her hair, slowly at first, working her way around the knots. She could tell that Clarke had been bathed by the servants of the Tower. Her hair smelled faintly of lavender oil and chamomile. Clarke couldn't have known that for the treatment to work she had to take out her braids at night and brush out the oils. This made hair strong, less prone to knotting, and shiny in the light. It was a mark of pride, class and status; having well-kept hair. Lexa's hair was tended to by four separate people, and braided daily. She made a mental note of sending one of her assistants to Clarke during the morning routine.
"That smells nice, what is that?" Clarke asked, lazily. "Is that me?"
"Yes," Lexa said, bringing her lips close to Clarke's ear and almost in a whisper. "Would you like me to keep going?"
"Yes please," Clarke said softly, grabbing onto Lexa's thigh and nestling in closer.
Lexa brushed and brushed, separating out the strands that were smooth from those that needed some work. Her hands got into a rhythm and she felt Clarke start to lean deeper into her arms.
"Tell me more about when you were little," she said.
"About Tondc?"
"Yes."
Lexa dug back into her memories, trying to unearth the best parts of her short childhood. She wanted Clarke to picture her happy, with her mother and father. She told her about the market days, when the fish traders would come into the square – how all the merchants were always kind to the children, bringing them small tokens from the lands surrounding Trikru territories. She told her about walking through the glowing forests at night, and the salty-sweet smell of the breeze in the summer. She talked about how her mother and father were proud to have a Nightblood child and how they told her to be brave, and kind and strong, the day the guards from Polis took her from her home so she could start her training.
She kept talking and smiling, and brushing and tugging, to the tune of Clarke's lazy "mmhm's" and quiet "wow's." Once she was almost done untangling the braids she ran all ten of her fingers from the top of Clarke's scalp to the ends of her now smooth and tamed locks.
"Mmmmm…" Clarke said half-asleep. "I didn't realized how tired I was until you did that."
She leaned back and completely fell onto Lexa's body. She felt Lexa's arms wrap around her and she listened to her heartbeat up close against her ear. Tump, tump. Tump, tump. Tump. Tump, tump. It was rocking her to sleep.
They both turned their heads towards the massive window behind them, as the clock tower struck a low rumbling note. Clarke never knew the time on the ground. She still had her father's watch but it was broken now. Months of battling on the ground will do that to a 100-year-old watch.
"It's late," Lexa said.
"Nooooo…" Clarke whined. "I don't want it to be tomorrow. I just want more of this," her eyes were closed and she was warm and protected in Lexa's arms. "More of Polis life, and you."
Lexa's head perked up when she heard this. She knew Clarke was deliriously tired, but here she was, the girl nobody could find, that nobody could have, wrapped up in her arms and asking for more time. Suddenly that's all Lexa wanted to do. Her mind started reeling with excuses she could make to the guards and the council and the rest of the Ambassadors. She started coming up with occasions that could be marked or celebrated as a holiday for the next day. She wanted to tell Titus to gather the pages and scribes and send out a message throughout Polis that tomorrow was a day of markets and games and food and drink. She wanted to do anything to keep Clarke like this: gentle, soft, whispering and tangled in her arms.
Alas, none of this could be done, Lexa knew. She knew the Ambassadors were waiting on her commands, she knew she had miles to go before the coalition had stabilized, plus she had hours of training, and healing to do. A whole people were counting on her, and all she wanted to do was shutter the blinds on the world, and exist only here, only in the eyes of Clarke: the girl who fell from the sky.
"I want more of you too," Lexa ventured, bravely. Such and overture was unlike her, but she liked the way her mouth wrapped around the words.
Clarke didn't respond, only breathed in deep and breathed out. Lexa glanced over her head and saw her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. She had fallen asleep, safe, for the first night since she arrived on Earth.
Lexa carefully cradled Clarke's shoulders on her left arm and stood from the love-seat. She carefully took her small, battered legs under the other arm and lifted Clarke off the sofa. Her arms instinctually grabbed on to Lexa's neck. The Commander was strong, so carrying the small girl across the room was no trouble at all. Clarke's blue nightgown trailed behind them.
She placed Clarke gingerly on the wolf pelt that lined her bed, careful to place her head down gently. She covered her with a heavier animal skin from the foot of the bed. Clarke nestled into the warm furs, feeling overwhelmed and dizzy and tired and sleepy all at once. And yet, as comfortable as she was, she missed Lexa and her hands on her.
"You're tucking me in," Clarke said sleepily as Lexa fiddled with the bedding and folded a lighter blanket.
"Yes, I am," she said softly, and placed a small kiss at her temple.
"You're my Titus," Clarke said sleepily, into her pillow.
"Yes, Heda," Lexa responded, blowing out the bedside candles and getting ready to part.
Before Lexa had the chance to turn all the way around, she saw one of Clarke's arms reach out blindly, upwards, where Lexa had been standing before.
"Hey, hey…" Clarke called out.
Lexa reached out and grabbed her searching hand. "Hey, I'm here, I'm here."
"Stay. Stay with me."
Lexa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She smiled at herself and then down at Clarke. She looked so small and so delicate wrapped in the furs and pelts of massive wild animals – some that Lexa had taken down herself. She made a mental note to impress Clarke with the stories from her travels in the morning.
"Okay."
Lexa sat down, and Clarke moved slightly over to the middle of the large bed. She slowly put out the remaining bedside candle and lay down next to Clarke, resting her chin on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around her tightly and felt Clarke settle into her embrace. The both let out a long deep breath, and Lexa placed a soft fleeting kiss on the back of Clarke's neck.
"Sleep well, Clarke."
"Yes, Commander."
The stars shone bright over Polis that night. The air was warm, the city was still, and the two girls at the top of the tower didn't stir until the first hint of pink scattered off of the clouds.