Beginning Note - This fanfic needed some lightening up, so that's what most of this is.
Lexa led the two of them through the streets of Polis. Clarke tried hard not to gape at Lexa who had shown up at her door with her hair wet and pulled back in a scarf, smelling like some sort of woody grounder soap. She wore loose clothes that were frayed at the ends and a dark, hooded robe that was cinched at the waist. Right, secrecy about Wanheda being in town.
Clarke kept her gaze down trailing behind the Commander by only a few inches. The wind in the shadowy morning bites. The shouting and music from the town echoed in Clarke's ears as she tried to focus on just one sound. Life on the Ark was never this loud, Polis was almost overwhelming. That mixed with the throbbing pain of her broken rib made it hard to form a thought. Thankfully, Lexa walked at a slow pace (probably for Clarke's sake) or else.
Lexa stopped in her tracks which made Clarke pick her head up. They were stopped in front of a rundown brick building. The "door" was a brown cape like material, draped over the doorway. Lexa pulls the drape aside for Clarke like a valet would for his employer. Well, at least Lexa had good manners. Clarke wasn't sure that quite made up for everything else, but it was one thing she could appreciate for certain after spending so much time with ungentlemanly delinquents. They were starting off on the right foot.
It didn't take Clarke long to figure out what kind of place this was. "A candle shop? Really?" she scoffed. There were many Grounder traditions Clarke did not understand, but she was pretty sure a stock of candles and how to get them would not help her prepare for the Carnival.
"You can wait outside if you wish." Lexa said before turning on her heel and walking toward what looked to be the main table. Clarke sighed and walked around the shop.
Some candle's we're already lit, which gave the inside a feeling of warmth. But the clashing scents were not working well for her, in fact she was sure she would get a migraine if they stayed in there for too long. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lexa talking to one of the workers.
He walked away only for a moment before coming back with a big cardboard box full of, of course, candles.
Lexa gave the worker a small nod as he said "Leidon, Heda." (Goodbye, Heda.) Lexa took the box and began walking back to where Clarke was standing. Clarke quickly turned around and pretended to be admiring one of the candles on a smaller table.
Lexa walked up behind her, "Do you want that one?" She asked, pointing to the one that Clarke had her eye on. Clarke whipped around quickly before shaking her head.
"No, let's just continue on this tour shall we?" She asked, quickly seeing herself out of the building. Lexa stood there stunned for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed before she picked up the candle sitting on the table and placed it into her box.
This was going to be a long day, Clarke mused.
-0-
Lexa brings her to a church-like building first. The once beautiful stained glass is now cracked and replaced with fabric and wood. It is still beautiful in it's own rustic sort of way. The rows of benches are now replaced with bookshelves, one after another.
Clarke can't help but gasp with wide eyes. Lexa instinctively tenses up, ready to ask if she's okay, before she realizes it is a gasp of surprise. A good type of surprise.
Lexa shifted from foot to foot, not used to a person acting like this. Most people either try to challenge her or grovel at her feet. "I thought maybe you would benefit from reading up on our history. Most of the historical records are in Trigedasleng so that the general public may understand, but we'll work on that."
All in all, they don't spend long in the library. They only pull out three books on the religion of the Flame. The library is quiet and fairly unused. When she mentions this as the man at the desk records their loan of the books in a ledger, Lexa simply says that warriors are more focused on training, merchants more intent on selling, and craftsmen more intent on honing their skills.
From there they go to the blacksmith (Clarke winces at the sight of the wickedly sharp blades and wonders if there's any way of avoiding using them sometime soon). Lexa introduces her to the blacksmith and drops off one of her swords for maintenance, which Clarke hadn't even known she had hidden under her robes. Then it is a blur of the most important trade shops that Clarke desperately tries to place in her mental map; leathercraft, woodworking, and the apothecary. Clarke mentally jots down a special note for this one.
Lexa's tone and posture makes it clear just how proud she is of the people of this city and the lives they are leading under her leadership. Although she doesn't blatantly smile, Lexa is not cold.
Before she knows it, Lexa has slowed down and Clarke looks up to see the Commander's tower once again. The sun is now shining high in the sky, flooding the square with relative warmth. By now, the corpse of the Ambassador that Lexa kicked from the balcony has long been scraped off the floor, but Lexa is still glad because part of her doesn't want Clarke seeing the barbarism.
She leads Clarke to one of the elevator shafts and commands the elevator operators, "Nainti sis" (96). It is a quiet way up to the floor that Clarke's room is on. When they finally step out (thank the spirits), Ava stood ramrod straight at attention in the hall.
Lexa turns and addresses Clarke only, barely sparing Ava a glance. "Ava will help you with basic things like learning Trigedasleng, how to walk lighter on your feet-"
"Anya screamed at me for it when we were running away from Mt. Weather", Clarke interrupts and then immediately regrets it at the way Lexa's face turns to a mask as rigid as stone. Lexa doesn't show hurt, she just clams up when she feels like she needs to protect herself, especially mentally and emotionally. Clarke shouldn't have mentioned Anya. "Sorry."
Lexa nods, but her expression doesn't change and her lips remain in a thin line. What hurts more is that Lexa doesn't even glare at her. She just gives her the carefully composed one as she continues. "At dawn everyday I train with the nightbloods where you found me yesterday. You will train with us when you heal in two weeks. You will come to my quarters so I can personally check on your progress after dinner time until then."
Clarke nods as she opens her mouth to reply, but Lexa is already gone down the hall, off to whatever responsibility she has. Clarke's feelings broil. Part of her wishes Lexa would stay, part of her is upset at herself that she brought up Anya, but she shouldn't be. She shouldn't have any remorse toward anything harsh she says to Lexa, because even if they're working together, Lexa's still the betrayer right?
-0-
Lexa wonders if tensing up in front of Clarke had been the correct choice. What they lacked in their semblance of a relationship was trust, and it wouldn't help if Lexa tensed up whenever a sensitive topic came up. It was awfully hard for Lexa to think of opening up. She hadn't since Costia. Anya had sort of just seen through her and known her from the beginning.
By no means is she angry, but she has never discussed Anya's death with anyone, and Ava had been standing right there. Curiously enough, the idea of discussing it with Clarke doesn't seem all that repulsive. Her heart lifts a little when she thinks of letting her feelings go and just telling Clarke, just like she had told Clarke of Costia on a whim in TonDC. These thoughts cloud her mind as she attempts (and fails) to meditate in her spot on the floor in front of the bed.
A knock on the door rings out through the room and Lexa's eyes fly open. "Lexa?" Clarke's voice sounds.
A glance out the window tells her that it is much later than she had anticipated. Report, after report, after conflict has been dumped on Lexa in a barrage. So much so that Lexa once again, forgot the meal that has been delivered to her and is not sitting on the coffee table in the sitting area.
She stands up and glances down and then around to check that she and her room look presentable before setting her shoulders back. It's okay, she tells herself. It's just Clarke. Only, her heart is beating, her palm is clammy and the butterflies in her stomach most definitely indicate otherwise.