"Clarke, you look as lovely as ever."
Clarke spun around, surprised by the voice behind her, and lit up when she saw who it belonged to. "Wells!" She grasped his hands and pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. "It's been far too long! I expected you back months ago."
Her oldest friend laughed, keeping hold of her hands. "You know I've been travelling through the Territories. My father had me overseeing the implementation of new military restrictions and he expected everything to go perfectly according to plan." He rolled his eyes. "It took far longer than intended, but I could have told them to expect that."
Looking down at himself, he grimaced. "I only got home yesterday, and after almost a year on the road I think I forgot what being clean feels like."
Stepping back, Clarke looked him over. He wore an exquisite suit, obviously well-tailored, with amethysts glinting at his cuffs and a diamond winking from his earlobe. The months of travel hadn't slimmed his broad shoulders at all; she actually thought they might have grown slightly, complimenting his tall frame well. Looking back up, she met his eyes and grinned. "You look the very picture of nobility, Wells. No one would ever tell you were gone."
He bowed deeply and offered his hand, glancing up to wink at her. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Smoothing her face back to its customary serenity, Clarke sunk into a light curtsey and placed her hand in his. "It would be my absolute pleasure, Lord Wells."
Wells looked startled for a moment. She could understand why, really; he had been gone for a very long time, and no amount of letters could have warned him about the change in her personality.
They stepped onto the dance floor and smoothly swept into the crowd, moving with an easy familiarity that betrayed their long friendship. Whirling around the dance floor, Clarke caught glimpses of councilors, officers, and the occasional merchant, all dressed in their finest clothes. Councilor Kane believed in hosting a large and very mixed group at his parties, unlike some others. His philosophy was that the more diverse the guest list, the more different types of enjoyment there would be.
The crowd parted in just the right way for her to see her mother and Jaha. It was just a flash, lasting barely a second, but it was enough to put a strain in her smile. She looked back at Wells to see him already looking at her, sympathy in his eyes. They faltered in their dance.
"I am so very sorry I wasn't here." He looked away for a moment, sighing. "I know I've written to you, and I know there was no way for anyone to know, but I still should have been here when he- when you needed me." He drew the both of them off to the side of the dance floor, out of the way of any collisions.
Clarke smiled bitterly. "I know. And it's not your fault. I don't blame you, truly I don't." She forced herself not to look back to her mother, not to wear her anger on her face. Wells didn't look soothed, but also didn't seem to realize where her thoughts had turned.
He sighed again, caught her in a quick hug, and placed a kiss to the top of her head before releasing her and forcing the worry from his face. "Come on, let's go find ourselves something to eat. I missed real Arcamian food this last year. Can you believe they don't eat fruit in most of the Territories? In Lignum they fed us something I think was tree bark."
Clarke curled her arm around his and they set off across the hall. She tuned out most of what he was saying, nodding her head every so often and laughing when he did, but the majority of her thoughts were dwelling on her father's death. Wells had left only three days before her father was arrested; when she had begged Jaha to call him back, the man had refused point-blank, telling her sternly that her hysterics were not as important as the heir to the chancellorship learning his duties. Clarke hadn't asked again.
A hand on her elbow jolted her from her thoughts. She frowned, looking up and wondering how she hadn't noticed them arriving at the banquet tables. Lexa would be so upset that I let my guard down like that, she mused. At least she didn't see.
"Domina, if I may have a moment of your time."
Clarke cursed internally. Lexa stood behind her, hands folded and head bowed. Of course she saw.
Wells turned to look at Lexa, placing a hand at the small of Clarke's back absently. "Who's this?" He looked Lexa over, thankfully not lingering anywhere inappropriate. Even so, alarm bells went off in Clarke's mind, a chorus of mine mine mine that almost made it out of her mouth before she caught herself.
Smiling softly, Clarke turned to look up at Wells, deftly dislodging his hand as she moved. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lexa relax minutely and smirked to herself. "Wells, this is Lexa. She's my body slave." She turned back to Lexa. "Lexa, this is Wells. He's one of my oldest friends and has finally returned to the capital from a tour of the Territories. You should get used to seeing him around the villa."
Lexa bowed her head. "Yes, domina."
"What was it you needed to speak to me for, Lexa?" She kept her expression perfectly innocent but dropped her voice just slightly, purring ever-so-slightly in a way that drew a faint shiver up Lexa's spine. She knew she would answer for her teasing later, but right now she just wanted to claim Lexa no matter how subtly - and no matter that the only one who would know it was herself.
Frowning slightly, Lexa responded, "It regards the matter of the injured bird you found the other day."
It took Clarke a second to realize what the other woman meant, but then it clicked. She placed a hand on Wells' arm. "I am terribly sorry, but I must take care of this. Will you forgive me for leaving you so soon?"
She looked at him through her eyelashes, making sure they looked as big and apologetic as possible. Wells melted visibly. "Of course, Clarke, I understand. An injured bird? You haven't changed a bit." He grinned rakishly. "Except that you've gotten far more beautiful."
Lexa twitched noticeably. Both Clarke and Wells ignored her.
"May I call on you for lunch? I hope you haven't tired of my company quite yet." Wells smiled at her, no trace of worry in his eyes. He was completely certain she would agree; the possibility of her refusal hadn't even occurred to him. Normally that would irk Clarke, but in this case he was right.
She laughed. "You know you don't need to ask, Wells. You're always welcome, and besides, you haven't told me every detail of your trip yet."
He bowed to her, kissing her hand. "Then I shall see you tomorrow. Farewell, Clarke."
"Farewell, Wells."
Lexa walked in silence, feeling vaguely disgruntled. She trusted Clarke, with her life even, but something about the way she had interacted with her old friend – Wells, she remembered – rubbed her the wrong way.
It probably had something to do with the casual way the man had touched her, like he had every right to put his hands all over Clarke, whether she wanted it or not. Clarke hadn't objected, though, and Lexa found that to be all the more aggravating. Clarke was hers. No man, no matter how charming or how much history he shared with Clarke, could come close to replacing her in Clarke's eyes. It just wasn't possible. Lexa wouldn't allow it.
A touch on her arm broke her from daydreams of extreme violence. Clarke stood in front of her with a worried expression. "Lexa, are you all right? I called your name twice, I don't even think you realized that we're home."
Blinking, Lexa looked around. They were indeed home, in Clarke's bedroom. She hadn't even noticed them arrive, too wrapped up in her mind to pay attention.
Clarke raised an eyebrow. "You've never lived up to your name more, hurricane girl." Lexa frowned, confused, and Clarke gestured vaguely. "There's a storm in your eyes. Is everything okay?"
Lexa stood still for one moment, then two, fighting a war inside herself. Half of her trusted Clarke with everything she was and would be, but the other half screamed wordlessly at the thought of Wells' hands on the blonde's body. Her hands shook slightly, the only outward sign of her struggle.
"Lexa?"
She broke. Lunging forward, she grabbed Clarke and whirled her around, pressing her back against a column. She stared into her shocked eyes for an instant then dragged the blonde into a fiery kiss, pouring every bit of her love and fury out through her lips. Heat seared her skin, burning mine into the soft skin she was pressed into. Clarke melted into her, an arm coming up to drape around Lexa's neck and draw her in closer. Lexa wasn't sure which of them moaned first, the sound swallowed before it could ever reach the air.
A crash from further inside the villa broke them apart, both women panting heavily as they stared at each other. Clarke's eyes were nearly black, Lexa unable to look away from their darkness.
A moment passed silently, Lexa trying to force her emotions back under control. She failed miserably, and found herself asking, "Who is Wells to you?"
The second the words passed her lips she shut her eyes tightly, wishing she could catch them before Clarke heard. That was nothing like the person she wanted to be; jealous, insecure, needy… That was everything she thought she had lost years ago.
She shook herself hard and opened her eyes, meeting Clarke's gaze steadily. The lack of judgement there didn't quite manage to surprise her. Ten months with the woman had given her a great understanding of exactly how far her understanding could go.
Warm fingers stroked her cheek, flattening out to cup the side of her face gently. Blue eyes met her own, the love in them calm and undeniable. Lexa smiled softly, bringing up her own hand to cover the one on her cheek. "Your oldest friend, and nothing more. I know." She laughed softly. "I'm sorry, he touched you and I saw red."
Clarke chuckled softly, free hand curling around Lexa's hip. "You will never have anything to worry about, love. I love you. You, and only you."
A cough sounded from the doorway. Lexa jerked back, hand falling instinctively to the knife hidden in her sash. The sight of Bellamy lingering at the threshold eased some of the tension from her frame, but her hand stayed at her sash.
The man scratched his head awkwardly, looking as if he would rather be anywhere but in that room at that time. "I apologize for interrupting. Octavia asked me to bring you an update. May we retire to your anteroom?"
Clarke felt her skin humming as they walked. Lexa's jealousy had been unexpected, but the outcome was absolutely worth it. She could still feel the heat of the woman's hands burning through her dress. She shot a glance sideways, taking in the proud jawline and dark, tangled hair of her lover. Lexa was looking straight ahead, gaze focused but mind obviously going over every possible threat that Bellamy's words could bring them.
Smiling softly, Clarke gazed forward again, opening the door to her chambers absently and waving her companions through. She knew that she should be worried about Bellamy's news but she could do nothing without knowing what it was, and she was quite content to daydream about her lover's lips in the meantime.
A thought struck her. She placed a hand at the small of Lexa's back, drawing the other woman's attention to her. "Is Raven all right?" Off Lexa's perplexed head tilt, she continued, "You told Wells you needed to discuss something about her."
Lexa flushed. "Raven is perfectly fine, Clarke. I believe Blake has something to tell us?"
Clarke smirked, watching how Lexa avoided her gaze and finding it utterly charming. Maybe this is the eye of the hurricane, hmm?
She gracefully took a seat at her table, Bellamy doing the same opposite her and Lexa taking up her customary position at her shoulder. With a sigh she shook the daydreams from her mind, focusing on the man in front of her and gesturing for him to speak.
He hesitated slightly, discomfort subtle but discernable. Clarke waited silently for him to speak, feeling Lexa's presence behind her standing as if she were carved from marble.
Finally, after almost twenty seconds, he spoke. "Octavia sends her apologies for not being here in person, but a situation on the border has called her away."
Clarke raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I should be aware of?" She frowned. "Why am I not aware of it already?"
Bellamy waved her concern away. "There is no way you could be aware. She was personally assigned by Indra, I don't think the council is even aware of the situation yet." He sighed. "There was another attack last night. The time of the attack is approximated at three hours past sundown. A single survivor managed to make it to the guard outpost at Carth. A rider was dispatched and made it back to Arkadia within two hours. Indra had Octavia leading a squad of Shadows thirty minutes later."
He leaned forward. "I don't know all the details, but what I do know is bad. It wasn't just the one village wiped out; Octavia told me she heard Indra screaming outside the barracks. Three villages were burned to the ground. They've never been that blatant before." Clarke poured him a drink without a word and he took it, shaking hands gripping the wineglass like a lifeline.
"One of the villages was Indra's home village. Her entire family was there. Parents, brother, baby niece… I… How can they allow this?" A tear rolled down his cheek. He looked up at Clarke, pain radiating from every inch of him. Against her will Clarke was reminded just how deep his bond with Indra went. They might not have been blood-bound, but the dead in this village were his family all the same.
Lexa moved silently, kneeling in front of the man. Her eyes met his, understanding and fierce resolve in her gaze. "I swear to you, this will not go unpunished. I swear it."
He looked at her for a moment, searching her eyes for something, before smiling a smile that held no joy in its depths. He reached a hand out and Lexa grasped it without a moment of hesitation. "The dead will be avenged."