So a note: white historians tend to alter tribal history.
They never ever mention that many Native tribes viewed genderqueerness or homosexuality as natural. In fact, if it was noted that a child may just have a gender preference of the same gender, they were usually raised as the opposite and rather than forced into a role that didn't suit them, put into a role that may suit them better.
Interestingly when I came out there was zero problems from my entirely Native American family. Many times if there is a problem with homosexuality in a native family, it is because they have been warped by Westboro-type Christian values.
JUNE/JULY 1863
The farm was faring well. With the occasional help of Lincoln and Lexa, Clarke and Raven were able to erect permanent walls on the foundation of their home and Bellamy helped them to put up a roof over their heads.
Bellamy bought sheep and in exchange for the two women offering their land up as grazing space for his herd he agreed to give them wool from their shearings. Octavia with the help of the pup they named Fish, tended to the herd throughout the day.
Lincoln would visit from time to time, taking Bellamy out to teach him how to hunt "the Pawnee way". They would return in the evening and Bellamy would allow the man to stay and they would share in a meal made from whatever they had caught and skin, smoke, and dry the rest.
Lexa had only been able to stay with Clarke four times, (not that either of them had been counting.) since that first night. Scouting excursions for the fort kept her busy.
Clarke had asked her one night what exactly it was she did, scouting. Reluctantly, Lexa had answered. Watch over other settlers, carry messages to the Pawnee villages, help when settlers were attacked.
When Clarke pressed about these attacks and what exactly settlers would need protecting from, Lexa had been hesitant to answer. She didn't want Clarke to know how truly dangerous her work could sometimes get.
"Sometimes, the Lakota, or Sioux as your people call them attack settlers. Sometimes, other tribes attack. Sometimes bandits, outcasts of white men steal from other white men. The fort sometimes asks Pawnee to help. Scouts work to help track other tribes. We know the difference between an attack from a white man and an Indian." Lexa had explained.
Clarke had watched the shadows play over Lexa's face the entire time as she said these things.
"What happens if it's an attack by a tribe? What do the scouts do?" Clarke asked, almost afraid for the answer.
"Kill other Indians." Lexa declared softly. She sounded almost conflicted as she said it. As though the action of doing so haunted her.
Clarke had noticed it the first night. The way Lexa twitched, writhed, crying out in her sleep, as if ghosts haunted her dreams. As if demons were chasing her in the night. Clarke had soothed her their third night after the woman woke up in a cold sweat. Her eyes widened from a nightmare.
How many had Lexa killed for the fort? Clarke wondered. For it to haunt her so? And could their be more that was haunting her than killing other tribes? Clarke felt her heart clench at the thought. She could only wrap her arms tighter around the woman and whisper sweet words into her ear until she fell back into a peaceful slumber, held within the blonde's gentle embrace.
The fourth night Lexa stayed, she had come in the middle of the night. She had slipped in through the shadows, breaking in through Clarke's window, open against the summer's heat.
She was caked in dirt, sweat and something dark.
Clarke, startled awake by the softest of thuds had nearly screamed to find an intruder in her room. Lexa placed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Long moments passed before Clarke's heartbeat and breathing slowed as she realized who stood before her in the sliver of moonlight from the open window. Lexa was dressed heavily like the men of her people. Buckskin leggings and tunic, her feet covered in moccasins. Her hair, braided, bone beads, feathers, and more adorning all she wore.
She looked fantastic to Clarke.
Paint covered her cheeks, but something wasn't right. There was dirt and… Something darker in places on the buckskin.
"Is that-?" Clarke began, but was cut off by Lexa pressing her lips against her own.
She sucked in a breath as she relished the feel of the woman's lips. Lexa smelled strongly of the buckskin she wore, sweat, and earth, but that sickly sweet, coppery scent underneath only confirmed Clarke's suspicions about the stains on the buckskin.
She pushed against Lexa's shoulders.
"Lexa, you- you aren't hurt, are you?" She searched the woman's face, her heart quickening with fear.
Lexa dropped her head. She picked at the stain on her buckskin, it hit the moonlight. The darkened maroon showing it to indeed be a bloodstain.
"No Clarke. I am not injured." Lexa croaked.
Clarke reached out, cupping Lexa's cheeks. She felt wetness under her fingertips. She lifted the woman's face. Tears leaked from her eyes.
Slowly, Clarke climbed out of bed. She kissed Lexa, comfortingly. She lifted the tunic the woman wore, Lexa didn't fight her. When Clarke's fingers met the waist of her leggings, Lexa's hands touched her own. Clarke pressed her forehead to Lexa's.
"We don't have to do anything." Clarke reassured her. "Let's just get you out of these clothes, they're… Smelly."
Lexa gave her a watery smile. She nodded and let go of Clarke's hands, her hands trembled as she helped the woman to pull the buckskin down her muscular legs.
Clarke lifted her nightgown off, causing a gasp to fall from Lexa's lips. She pulled the brunette by an arm into her bed and wrapped her arms around her.
They lay like that for long moments in silence, enjoying the soothing contact of naked skin on skin.
"I killed so many." Lexa finally spoke into the darkness.
Clarke, having taken Lexa's braids out, and running fingers through, to smooth the waves out stopped. She waited until Lexa began to speak again before she continued.
"A small contingent of Cheyenne were attacking some of the northern settlers. Stealing horses, killing cows. We helped some of the fort soldiers track them back to their camp." Lexa shuddered.
She closed her eyes.
"They had women. Children, Clarke. I didn't… We killed them all." Her voice cracked.
Clarke tugged on Lexa and turned her over in her arms. Lexa began to sob. She shuddered and cried into Clarke's chest.
Clarke held her throughout the night until they woke up. Raven had come in and told Clarke she would take care of the farm, even send for Bellamy if she needed any help. She gave Clarke the day off to take care of the broken woman in her arms.
Lexa slept until midday. When she woke, she had traced Clarke's collarbone, and pressed long, passionate kisses to her lips.
She confessed to running all the way to Clarke's homestead after what they had done. They had just finished reporting to the fort and Lexa couldn't take being there a minute longer. Lexa just needed to escape. The only way she could think of doing that was with Clarke.
Lexa returned to the fort a day later but Clarke was conflicted. Her feelings for Lexa were growing deep. In their world, two women couldn't be together, not like a man and a woman could. Clarke felt torn.
She had already decided a long time ago, she would rather be alone, than not have the life she wanted if the world refused to let her have it in peace.
The Fourth of July was supposed to be a day of celebration. The fort was indeed decked out for one.
Clarke, the Blake family and Raven had come to the fort for the events to mark the celebration of America's Declaration of their Freedom. The soldiers were dressed in their best uniforms, their commands all walking around, entertainment having been hired out for this day.
Food vendors and stalls filled with bright little toys for children were everywhere. Games to win prizes laid out. Raven, ever the child, ran off with Octavia, glee written all over their faces.
Bellamy, gruff, despite having a fluffy dog tailing him, bought a bit of food and walked around. He surveyed the area with a surly eye.
"Clarke." Someone whispered into the blonde's ear.
Clarke jumped and whirled around.
She stared at the woman who stood before her in surprise. Lexa wore a dress for once.
Clarke's eyes widened while Lexa looked her up and down. Clarke had bought a new dress just for this occasion, but just seeing Lexa in a dress was unbelievable.
Lexa gave her a wide smile.
"See something you like, Clarke?" She asked.
Clarke drew out a kerchief and dabbed at the sweat she could feel pooling at her throat. The temperature always seemed to increase around Lexa.
She smirked.
"You could say that."
Lexa laughed. They both chuckled and Lexa joined her side.
"I had hoped you would come out today." Lexa told Clarke.
Clarke, watching folks, some dancing, some sitting on benches, chatting, eating, others, strolling around, all without a care for once, glanced at Lexa. Lexa's eyes held something. Something Clarke wasn't quite sure she was ready for. She blushed and looked away.
"I had to, there was no way Raven was letting me stay in today." Clarke replied.
"Clarke." Lexa said, her voice said her name in such a way it made Clarke both want to run, and to have the woman seize her and take her in the nearest alley at the same time.
"Lexa, please." Clarke pleaded. She felt hot, her heart beat wildly in her chest. She tugged at the neckline of her dress. It was getting much too hot, much too quickly.
A hand reached out to grasp her shoulder, Lexa's hands, Clarke had the ability to recognize, before she got too dizzy and everything went promptly dark.
Clarke woke up some time later in her own home.
Someone pressed a wetted cloth to her head.
She groaned.
"Shhh." Lexa hushed her.
Clarke licked her lips.
"What happened?" She croaked past dry lips.
"You have a fever." Lexa told her softly. She left the cloth on Clarke's head, fumbling around until she held a cup in her hands.
"Drink." She ordered, as she held the cup to Clarke's lips.
Clarke sniffed the liquid. It smelled wickedly strong.
"What is it?" She asked Lexa distrustfully.
Lexa glared at her.
"It's a mixture made by Pawnee for fevers. It will help. Now drink." Lexa pressed the lip of the cup against Clarke's mouth.
Clarke sighed. She lifted heavy arms and took the cup. She downed the liquid.
It was heady, dark, and made her stomach roil. She gagged. Then she swallowed down more.
Lexa followed the strange mixture up with water. Clarke took it gratefully. She felt dryer than wood.
Clarke watched Lexa move around her room.
"Thank you." She pushed past a thick tongue.
Lexa sat on the edge of the bed. She caressed Clarke's hair.
"You've been out for a whole day." Lexa informed her.
Clarke groaned.
"Now I owe Raven two days off!" She whined. Lexa chuckled.
"Well, when you want to pay Raven back let me know, I would be happy to join in helping." Lexa promised.
Clarke eyed the woman as she prepped what looked to be soup.
"I may just take you up on that," Clarke agreed.
Clarke laid back as Lexa brought her a bowl and a spoon. She took the offered food. They both ate, and Clarke felt satisfaction bubble over her. It was good and obviously something made by Lexa's people.
She may just have to keep Lexa.