After the kiss in Lexa's tent there was a distinct awkwardness that danced between them both that neither Clarke or Lexa knew how to deal with. It only took them three too long and too awkward days to make it back to Arkadia, but during that time Clarke found herself avoiding Lexa as much as Lexa seemed to be avoiding her.
There was an unspoken connection that they had both seemingly acknowledged, yet that connection wasn't something built upon foundations of love, of warmth, yearning and lust. It was something soured, something unsteady, easy to topple without any warning. For Clarke, she didn't know if she wanted it to collapse or to solidify into something more. She didn't even know exactly which side of the fence Lexa was on either. Not fully. Or perhaps she did. Maybe she was just lying to herself, perhaps it'd be easier for her to make a decision on how best to go forward when she pretended she didn't know what Lexa's feelings were.
And so Clarke found herself sitting behind a warrior on horse, her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek resting against his back as her eyes threatened to close as the swaying of the horse's gait lulled her mind to sleep. Lexa rode at the front of her troop of warriors, Ryder by her side. Clarke had found herself shoved into the very centre, her position being in the centre of warriors ready and willing to kill easily understandable for her. That was yet another sign of how Lexa felt. Or perhaps of simply how important she had become.
Clarke yawned then, her mind so very tired. It was odd, too, being as tired as she was. She had hardly had need to run, to walk, to do anything more difficult than sitting atop a horse. But her mind was unable to rest, unable to find some semblance of peace over the days. And it left her exhausted, it left her mentally drained and so very ready to sleep come nightfall.
But Clarke's mind was startled into alertness as a hand reached back and squeezed her knee.
"Do not fall asleep, Wanheda," the warrior said quietly. "You will fall off the horse," he shook her knee once before fumbling in the pack tied to the side of the horse. "Drink this," and he handed over a flask of drink, its contents sloshing with the movements.
"What is it?" Clarke asked and her nose turned up as she took a whiff of the contents only to cough and pull it away from her nose in distaste.
"It is strong," he said with a chuckle. "It will keep you alert for the next few hours," and she saw him look at her over his shoulder. "We will arrive at Arkadia soon."
Clarke sighed. There wasn't much point to arguing. Perhaps most of all though, was the fact that she didn't fancy falling off the horse in her sleep. And so she took in a deep breath before taking a sip of the potent drink.
Its taste was bitter, strong, far heavier upon her tongue than she had assumed. But there was a definite kick of something that hit her sinuses, made her eyes burn just a little before she coughed, sputtered and tried not to spit it out onto the man's back.
"I warned you, Wanheda," the warrior said with a quiet chuckle.
"You did," Clarke shouldn't have been surprised that she found herself shedding whatever fatigue had been creeping into her mind. "Thanks," and she took another sip for good measure and tried to suppress another cough before passing him the flask.
Another warrior nearby seemed to find the scene amusing for she chuckled and nodded her head in approval as Clarke's gaze met hers. But Clarke felt a barely-there shiver run up her spine, she felt an intensity of a stare and she looked up and forward to find Lexa looking over her shoulder, her gaze moving all her warriors who travelled behind her. But Clarke was sure Lexa's gaze had been focused on her, she was sure the woman had only begun taking in everyone around them only after she had looked up.
Clarke didn't know what to make of that piece of information.
She didn't know what to make of a lot of different pieces of information recently.
Nessa lay in the bed, the covers just a little too itchy for her liking. She couldn't seem to get away from the discomfort though. There was a distinct immovability to the fabric she hadn't noticed until she had been able to stay awake for longer than a few moments. And she hated it. That much was obvious. She couldn't bury her face into the thin blanket like she could her furs at home. She couldn't wrap herself in the thin blanket for it didn't seem to fluff up anywhere near as much as she wanted. And she couldn't get comfortable for the blanket seemed odd, seemed unnatural in a way she couldn't describe. Sometimes it felt like the cheapest of furs her nomon would scoff at, at times it seemed like the poorest of leathers her nomon would only use to teach her how to sew, to make bags and satchels before letting her try on the leathers worth far more than her nomon would be happy with her wasting.
Dhorma sat nearby, a large book in hand and his attention quite obviously not focused on her. Nessa didn't mind though. She didn't even know how he didn't get bored from standing still for so long. Maybe she'd ask him one day. If she had the answer already it'd help though, if only because lying where she was, for day after day made her want to scream. But she couldn't. And that annoyed her. Her throat still felt so very bruised, her voice not quite as familiar to her even after the days had passed.
She tried not to think of her attack though. Doing so always brought up memories she didn't really like. Even though she knew she was safe, she couldn't help but to flinch every now and then when she heard the creak of a warrior's leathers. She'd panic, or begin to, until she managed to catch sight of Dhorma or her nomon, whoever was close by. So maybe it wasn't so bad.
But there was one thing, one very glaringly obvious thing that no one seemed to be addressing with the obviousness that it demanded.
Klark was missing.
Nessa wasn't stupid. She realised after the third day that Klark hadn't simply gone for a walk. She knew something was different too when more warriors seemed to fill the inside of the room she found herself in. And she knew that she knew something was wrong after she asked a warrior where Klark was only for him to stammer out a quick excuse.
And that annoyed her.
She wasn't a child. She wasn't incapable of knowing things. She could hunt, fish, sew, track and fight if she needed. But her nomon had pinned her with such a challenging stare that it had silenced any thought of voicing her displeasure at the turn of events.
Maybe she should be more worried for Klark's safety, but for some reason she didn't think she needed to worry. And that was partly because the other warriors didn't quite seem too worried about whatever was happening just yet.
"You think too loudly, Little Heda," Dhorma said quietly, and Nessa looked at him awkwardly from where she lay to find him staring at her from over the book in his hands.
Nessa took a moment to consider how best to get the information she wanted. All her questions had been met with deflection, and she knew. She was so very sure that everyone knew and had been told not to give her a straight answer.
And so.
"Klark is missing," she said it with as much confidence as she could muster. She lifted her chin in defiance just as her nomon and her sister did and she let her eyes harden.
Dhorma didn't react at all the way she wanted. Instead of the supplication and deference she had been expecting, all she saw was a small lifting of his lip and a sparkle in his eyes.
"I would not let your nomon catch you imitating her," Dhorma chided quietly.
"I am not imitating nomon," Nessa said and she tried to fight the disappointment in her voice at her plan's failure.
"Are you imitating Heda then, little Heda?"
"No," she shook her head only to wince and feel just the smallest stabs of victory as Dhorma startled at her movement and made to help her before settling himself back down in his chair. "Klark is missing, Dhorma," she said and this time she let her voice turn quiet, or perhaps not so quiet. If only because the more she voiced it, the more she realised that maybe the reason why no one was telling her things was because something had gone wrong.
Dhorma put his book down, and she watched as a frown creased his forehead as he looked off into the distance.
"And nomon," Nessa pushed. "She knows. She knows where Klark is. She knows where Lexa is," it was more statement than question, and it frustrated her not to be told anything.
But Dhorma pulled his chair closer to her and smiled and she could see him thinking over what he was to say, she could see him analysing statement after statement.
"You can tell me, Dhorma," she said. "I will not tell nomon you said anything," and she tried propping herself onto her side as much as she could, and she ignored the still present aches and bruises and pains that so frustratingly splintered throughout her body.
Dhorma took in a breath as he seemed to contemplate her plea. But Nessa didn't quite like the way his eyes darkened, or the way his jaw clenched. She didn't think she'd ever seen Dhorma that conflicted in her entire life. It was strange, unfamiliar to her and it didn't do much to alleviate any worries that had existed in the deepest parts of her mind.
"Klark will be back soon," Dhorma said eventually, and Nessa's eyed narrowed for she was sure there was more.
"Where did she go?" and she frowned. "Where?"
Dhorma smiled quietly at her question then, and she found herself wondering what must have been going through his mind at that very moment. Perhaps her sister had commanded him not to say anything. If that was the case then she thought she would tell her sister she was responsible enough to know things now. If her nomon had told Dhorma not to say anything then she would plead if she needed, even offer to clean their house more than she already did if it would let her know more than she was so obviously not allowed.
"People tried to take her away," Dhorma said eventually.
"The same people that attacked us?" Nessa asked, and she couldn't help but to feel her lip tremble at the memory of Jaxta, the handmaiden who had been so fierce, so wonderful, so brave.
"Yes," Dhorma said and she didn't mind that his hand came up and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "But Lexa found them. A scout returned earlier today saying that they will soon be back."
From the way Dhorma didn't quite touch on anything else Nessa was sure there had been danger involved. She wasn't stupid. But she could be satisfied with knowing that much for now
"Good," Nessa said eventually. "Then I will see Klark soon."
Lexa's mind was a mess of tumultuous uncertainty. She had no idea where Klark and her stood. What had happened in the tent had sent her mind into overdrive as she tried to analyse scenario, meaning and problem. There were three truths to the problem before her, that much was clear.
The first was that her heart broke for Klark, it beat for her and longed for something more. The second was that she could understand Klark's pain, her uncertainties, and every other emotion digging into her. It was obvious, it had been obvious. It wasn't even a new revelation. Not since she had first laid eyes on Klark in her nomon's house. The third thing she knew was that she didn't know. She didn't know what Klark wanted. And that broke her into pieces. If she knew Klark wanted her to leave, to never see her again, she could do that, she could lock her emotions behind a wall so vast they would never break free. And she would do that for Klark. And yet she didn't know if that was what Klark wanted. If only because the kisses they had shared had happened.
Perhaps the only truth of the matter was that emotions were complicated, hurts were real, regrets and guilts existed for both of them, and maybe, just maybe, they would somehow find a way to grow together. She didn't think she could do it alone.
Lexa shivered as a cool breeze splintered through her body. She found her lips turning down at the corners in distaste as she found herself thinking of Azgeda winds and memories she wished would leave her be that had begun to resurface. But it was easy to allay her frayed mind for all she had to do was look out around herself and at the trees that reached up into the skies. It was easy to remind herself that she was no deep into Trikru lands, where moss covered tree was as green as could be and where the heights of the canopy overhead were as high as the heavens at night.
And so Lexa found herself settling her mind, her body and her spirit.
There was no use fretting now. She would have a chance to do so at a later stage. But for now she needed to get Klark to Arkadia, she needed to make sure she was as healthy as could be and then she would bring her to Polis, stake her claim on her and ensure all clans understood that to attack Klark would be to attack her. But she wasn't so foolish to think that Azgeda, that Nia would let Klark slip through her fingers. But she could and would deal with that at a later stage.
"Heda?"
She turned and found Ryder looking at her cautiously, the man's gaze guarded his voice so low that most nearby wouldn't even hear him.
"Ryder," she met his gaze long enough that she knew he would see her permission for him to speak.
"You are worried," he said quietly, and she found herself trying not to feel a guilt, anger and regret building within her heart at the loss of Gustus.
She didn't answer him directly, only let a shoulder lift ever so slightly in response. She was no fool, she knew Ryder had heard, seen and observed enough in his time as her new guard to understand the broken dynamic between her and Klark. It'd be hard to keep it a secret from anyone who spent as much time as he did near her now.
"I am not Gustus," he continued, and again that pang of guilt filled her heart. Ryder paused though, and she saw him chew his words, she saw him war with whatever he had planned to say. But then he seemed to settle himself before speaking. "I do not believe Wanheda hates you."
Lexa found herself blinking, perhaps not to hide tears, but to give herself time to compose herself, to figure out how she wanted to respond, how she wanted to process the fact that Ryder was able to sense as much as he did.
She looked at him, a question in her eyes. And she thought the same, she hoped so at least. And she even thought she knew what he would say next. But perhaps the fact that another could sense Klark's pain was a sign, in some way, that she was on the right path to bridging the gap between them.
"I believe Wanheda hates the decision you made," Ryder said so quietly Lexa found herself reading his lips more than hearing his words. She knew what he said could be considered dangerous. Perhaps if he had been someone else she would have punished him for it. But for some reason she didn't. But it wasn't some reason. She knew exactly why she didn't wish to reprimand him, she knew exactly why she would allow him to say what he said. Just this one time.
"I hope the same, Ryder," she didn't mean to say it, but still, the words came forth and she found Ryder smiling ever so slightly, the motion more twitching of a cheek as his face saddened with understanding.
Perhaps hope was all Lexa had left.
It must have been late afternoon before they arrived at the edge of the forest. The forest clearing full of warriors, tents and campfires still littered every open space and the Ark in all its unharmonious chaos still reached up into the sky.
Clarke found herself feeling apprehension and relief as they began to approach, the commotion of their arrival bringing more eyes on her than she would like. She could tell there was a difference, too. Though she thought the number of warriors the same, she was sure more were armed, more were prepared to spring into action at any given notice. It was also uncomfortable just how many warriors seemed to be looking at her as if she were a frightened animal, a cornered beast or an unpredictable companion whose actions could cause more chaos than they knew how to deal with. Those expressions were something she didn't like, they were something she didn't embrace. But she'd deal with it as best she could.
It didn't take them long to reach the gates of Arkadia, and as Clarke waited to be helped off the horse she noticed that more warriors had gathered around her, each one tall, broad shouldered and very clearing having been instructed not to leave her side. Part of that annoyed her, but she knew arguing with Lexa about it would do little to change the situation.
Clarke said a quiet word of thanks to the warrior she had ridden behind before she began walking through Arkadia's gates, all the while her gaze cast down at the ground, perhaps to hide from the eyes following her, perhaps because she felt the slightest tinges of embarrassment that her return was so obvious. She wished she had been able to sneak back into Arkadia without others noticing. She wished no one had even noticed she had disappeared in the first place. But she wasn't so lucky.
But Clarke looked up at her name being called and she found Alexandria and her mother already walking her way, both women with relief clearly visible upon their faces.
"I'm ok," Clarke said with a grunt as she came to a stop in front of Abby, her mother's gaze already taking her in with worry pulling her lips down at the corners.
Alexandria smiled at her, too and Clarke found herself smiling back with an awkwardness. She was happy to be back, she was happy that every one else seemed ok. That was as much as she could hope for.
"Nessa asks of you," Alexandria said and Clarke wasn't surprised. Not at all, she even felt guilt that Nessa had worried.
"I should see her then," Clarke said, and she found herself not really wanting to do anything else in that moment.
Clarke tried to ignore the very subtle flash of emotion across Lexa's face that she saw as she began moving through Arkadia and towards the med bay. She knew things were strained between them both, and she knew Lexa must feel something about the fact that Clarke wanted to see her sister more than to speak to her. But truth be told, Clarke didn't really know how to bring up the next conversation with Lexa. Things were awkward, that was obvious. And maybe it was simply easier to speak with someone who hadn't stabbed her in the back. Even if that other person was a child.
Perhaps unsurprisingly Clarke found Nessa sound asleep. Even after the short amount of time Clarke had been gone she could see an improvement in her. The wounds that had been fresh, the bruises that had been purpled and deep, had faded enough that Nessa looked less like the image of death that she had. Even her neck seemed less swollen, the wound clearly having improved at least a little.
Dhorma smiled at her once Clarke pulled her eyes off Nessa, and she found herself realising she had missed his comforting presence.
"She asked of you many times," Dhorma said quietly. "She will be angry she missed you."
"I'll make it up to her," Clarke said, her own voice quiet. She knew Nessa needed her rest, and she knew whatever medication she was on would be pushing her to sleep more than usual to help the healing process. "I'm glad she's getting better," she finished with a smile.
"Yes," Dhorma nodded his head. "As am I," but he paused and frowned a little and Clarke could guess what the next question was going to be. "And you?" she saw concern in his eyes.
"I'm good," Clarke answered with a slight shrug. "As good as can be expected."
Dhorma nodded his head again, and it was simple, short and perhaps a much needed response. Clarke didn't think she could deal with more people fretting over her than she had already.
Abby came up to them then, a frown in place and a tablet in hand as she looked at whatever information was present.
"Clarke," she said quietly as she motioned for her to follow her into her office.
It only took them a moment before they found the privacy Abby needed, and as the door closed behind them Clarke found herself engulfed in a gentle embrace.
"I'm ok," Clarke said, and she winced just a little at the strain in her wrist and the still present aches in her body.
Abby seemed to nod her head, Clarke couldn't see it but she could feel the motion. As the embrace continued to last she found herself sinking into it though. And perhaps she needed it more than she realised when Clarke began to grow tired, when she began to sink deeper and deeper into it with each passing second.
But Abby pulled them apart as quickly as she had embraced her, she wiped her eyes fiercely and Clarke could see the emotions her mother was wrestling back into control.
"I—" Abby took in a steadying breath. "Sorry," she said it simply, her gaze now focused on her. "I'm happy you're ok," it was simple, but Clarke could see her mother meant it. And she knew their relationship was strained at times. But she needed it. She needed the connection they shared. It was an innate thing perhaps, but it was something Clarke didn't think she could live without. Not after everything that had happened.
"I'm ok," Clarke repeated. "I just need time to get back up to full strength."
Abby nodded her head before she looked down at Clarke's wrist.
"Still sore?" she asked.
"A little," and it was, but Clarke was sure it had begun healing, or maybe she had simply got used to the pain.
"I'll put it in a brace," and Abby's lips tightened into a line that Clarke knew not to argue with. "You'll be able to use it, but you need to look after it as much as possible while it's still healing," Abby continued. "And your fever, that's subsided," Clarke wasn't surprised by that, she had been feeling better, having even the few short days of rest had given her body time to recover.
"Yeah," Clarke said. "I'm feeling better."
Abby seemed to relax a little at that, and Clarke found herself staring into her mother's eyes. She could see so many emotions in them, and she was sure her mother could see those same emotions in her own. Perhaps being faced with such uncertainty had humbled her, perhaps it had eased whatever flames had once burned bright. There were any number of things that could have happened, so many possibilities that could have played out so very differently than they had. Perhaps Clarke shouldn't complain about the hand she had been dealt. She was sure in some way it could have been worse.
"I'm happy to be back," Clarke said, and it was simple, but it was the truth. And she knew her mother could understand the things she couldn't bring herself to say. At least not yet.
"I'm happy you're ok," Abby said and she reached out and squeezed Clarke's uninjured hand as tightly as she dared. "I really am."
