Chapter Notes:
Clarke and Lexa have a much-needed talk about what's happening between them, before they travel the last distance to Polis.
—
All that comes out, however, is a drawn out "Klark…" as Clarke's mouth finds the sensitive spot on her neck.
—
Lexa loses herself in the kiss. Her perception of time stretches and warps, until a second feels like an aeon and nothing more than a heartbeat all in one. Everything drops away, until all that's left for Lexa to think about is Clarke.
Clarke, whose arms are wrapped gently around Lexa, a hand traces circles in the small hairs at the base of her neck, pulling her further into Clarke's embrace. Somehow, between shared breaths and emotion-laden gazes, Lexa finds herself pushed up against the central tent-pole. Finds herself trapped.
She never wants to leave.
For once, there's no discord within her. No warring thoughts or complaints register. Even Heda seems content within her, not communicating with words, but almost humming with a satisfied energy.
Clarke's other hand traces across Lexa's side, over the thin cloth making up her innermost layer of armour. A shiver travels up through Lexa, automatically attempting to move sensitive skin away from Clarke's wandering hands.
"Are you ticklish?" Clarke pulls back, just enough to whisper each word before diving back in to plant small kisses. First at the edge of Lexa's lips, but then trailing down her chin, seemingly eager to get back to the spot on Lexa's neck. The one that had made her mind go blank.
Lexa wants to let her. Wants to give herself over to Clarke entirely, but she knows that it would end with them entangled in her bedsheets, altogether too small and uncomfortable for what Lexa wants. Not to mention her tent is in the middle of camp, surrounded by warriors and Skaikru.
She tilts her head to stop Clarke, instead seeking her out for another kiss. One that immediately has Lexa regretting her decision, and one that she knows she has to stop.
Lexa leans back, breathing heavily. She takes in the hungry expression in Clarke's eyes, dilated pupils attempting to devour her. Lexa wants her to. But not here, not now. She doesn't push Clarke away, unwilling to lose the warmth and intimacy of their embrace.
Leaving one arm hooked firmly around Clarke's waist, Lexa lets the other trail down Clarke's arms, feeling goosebumps forming with every little swirl, before letting it drop to her side. It's a momentous effort to concentrate on what she needs to say. What Lexa has been planning to talk with Clarke about, should her affections ever be returned.
Lexa doesn't know what Clarke can read from her own expression. Isn't sure if her happiness is still visible. She wants Clarke. Wants her so much, but they're not just Clarke and Lexa, they're also Heda and Wanheda.
"Klark.." Lexa begins haltingly. "We should stop."
Fear. She hates to admit it. Hates the emotion itself, at times irrational and other times life-saving. This time? Lexa isn't certain, but she knows that now is not the best time.
Her hand betrays her words however, reaching out against Lexa's wishes. Trails small patterns on the back of Clarke's hand; lines and curves blurring into shapes unrecognisable shapes. Clarke stays quiet. Gives Lexa the time she needs to compose herself, without judgement.
"I want you. I want this." Lexa rushes to assure Clarke, tightening the arm around her slightly, nodding down at her dagger hanging from Clarke's belt. "That is why I gave you my dagger. I wanted you to be safe. To return to me.."
Clarke is confused, and Lexa knows her hesitance isn't helping. Knows that she needs to put words to her worry. "But, I am the Commander, Klark. Host to Heda. Due to the conflict with Skaikru, the other clan leaders will not be happy if they think me biased towards Skaikru." The 'again' goes unsaid, both vividly remembering the long, heated, arguments in Lexa's war tent to establish the alliance in the first place. They both recall the reticence among the clans at Clarke's inclusion. Practically baulked at Skaikru's use of technology during the assault on Mt. Weather.
"That you are also Wanheda…" Lexa trails off, unsure how to continue. She knows what needs to be said. Has even planned for it while observing the stars on sleepless nights.
"They fear me." Clarke says.
And yes, they do. Clarke hasn't even bothered phrasing it as a question. It's well-known that Wanheda is feared across the clans. Feared for her relation to death, and how she tends to only appear when disasters and catastrophes are about to happen.
Only few know better. The Nightbloods have records of Wanheda's actions throughout history, scant and scattered as it is, but records nonetheless. They know her as a protector of their people. Know that Wanheda might be linked to death, but that she's far more focused on saving lives than taking them. Always has been, and she always will be.
Lexa doesn't want anything to get between them. She wants to treasure this thing they have, protect it and nurture it; wants to watch it bloom and glow into something beautiful. Something sturdy. Something that will last.
"Hey, look at me." Clarke cups Lexa's chin, dipping in for a chaste kiss before straightening back up. "I want this too," she admits, hand moving in the small space between their chests. "I don't know any of the current leaders, Lexa. I barely remember any of them from my previous hosts, as I only saw them from afar."
So Clarke doesn't know. Lexa hadn't been sure. The records on Wanheda's movements became much less detailed after the bombs, and it's only Clarke's recent revelations that Lexa is starting to put the pieces together.
"I have a plan." Lexa hears herself say, a little too lost in Clarke's gaze to properly focus on what she's saying.
—
Clarke leaves the heated air of Lexa's tent. Steps out into the darkness, feeling the chill of the night and the glare of the moon overhead. She leaves Lexa behind, having said their goodbyes with a quick kiss and whispered words.
Lexa is right. They need to be careful. Clarke hadn't considered the political angle before. Hadn't realised the precariousness of the Coalition in the aftermath of Mt. Weather's fall. With Azgeda warriors attacking villages and running into Madi's family and Jaha openly hunting Nightbloods, the situation is balancing on a knife's edge.
That Clarke announced her presence by leaving said Azgeda warriors beheaded and branded with her mark might not have been the best approach. She shrugs. Nothing to do about it now.
Lexa's smiling face swims to the front of Clarke's mind, and she finds herself hard-pressed to keep walking away from her tent. Has to force herself, one feet in front of the other. Only the knowledge — the bone-deep relief — that Lexa more than returns her feelings keep the frustration at bay.
She might have been right. Might know the other leaders better than Clarke ever could, but to stay apart? To pretend to still be hurt over Lexa's betrayal at Mt. Weather?
It chafes at Clarke. It's necessary, of course. She's well aware of that, but it feels wrong to be away from Lexa know. Feels like a piece of her is missing, which is something Clarke finds both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Not something she ever expected to be able to feel again.
But she'll do it. Clarke can pretend to be nothing more than cordial to Lexa in public. She can restrain herself, for a while. As soon as it's safe, however, there will be nothing stopping Clarke. Not after having spent far too long fighting her emotions.
Her feet lead her towards the Skaikru tent. Towards Monty and Madi. Stepping inside, Clarke is met with a wave of heat and the smell of sweat rolling out towards her. Quickly closing the tent flap behind her, she turns and steps around the mass of people. Some are already asleep, while others are whispering quietly— excitedly. They're happy to be away from Arkadia and TonDC. Happy to put some distance between them and their conflict, but many are wary and afraid of what Polis will be like. Clarke has to admit she's curious too.
Madi sits in Monty's lap, enraptured by the tablet held out in front of her. Doesn't even notice Clarke's approach.
"I put on a Disney film. Tangled." Monty whispers. "I don't think she understands much of it, but she's a big fan of Rapunzel's frying pan."
Kneeling down in front of them, it's clear that Madi still hasn't noticed them. Eyes glued to the screen, she jumps slightly when Clarke reaches out to stroke her hair. Madi is clearly exhausted, eyes floating a little as she attempts to focus on Clarke, blinking slowly as if her eyelids are extra heavy.
"Come on you, time to sleep."
Madi doesn't put up a fight as Monty turns off the tablet, promising she can finish the film another day. Opening her arms for Clarke, Madi latches on and breathes in heavily. Her brow scrunches up slightly. Moving in closer, Madi sniffs at Clarke's neck, reminiscent of her wolf form.
"You smell like Lexa," Madi mumbles sleepily.
"I do?"
Clarke attempts to contain her smile, focusing on getting ready for the night. Their bedroll is laid out right beside Monty's, who shifts under his own furs, yawning. It seems to be contagious, the yawn quickly spreading through the delinquents in the tent.
"Smells nice…"
Madi trails off into a soft snore. Clarke looks down at the affectionate bundle in her arms. She isn't sure how she got to this point, but with Madi in her arms, Monty beside them and Lexa just a tent away, Clarke feels content. Feels happy, like maybe everything will turn out just fine.
—
Unlike the Trikru warriors who were on night watch, Lexa is well rested and bursting with energy in the morning. It takes them a little longer than usual to get ready. Skaikru aren't used to the physical toll it can take to travel between cities. The food and rest has evidently helped, but but the unfamiliar sleeping arrangements have hit the adults especially hard.
Lexa can't help but wonder how they expected to make it here on the ground had they truly been alone. Perhaps their unwavering confidence in Tek? Perhaps they have books with the knowledge of their ancestors, like the libraries of Polis?
She shrugs. She might never know. These Skaikru have given up their Tek in exchange for a life on the ground. A hard life, perhaps, but a life they can live. A life that lets them outside of the metal shell they've lived in all their lives.
Clarke.
She can't stop looking at her. Can't stop thinking about her. The weight of the dagger Clarke gave her rest comfortingly at Lexa's waist, carefully turned with Wanheda's mark facing inwards, towards Lexa's body.
Eyes wander without permissions, stealing glances of Clarke. Of the young Nightblood in her lap. Lexa's heart hasn't stopped beating rapidly since Clarke kissed her. She doesn't think it ever will. She hates the distance between them, wanting to reach out and just be with her.
Instead, Lexa sits back in her saddle, posture straight and regal. The brush of trees is slowly thinking out, and Lexa is well aware that posturing will soon be required. She loves Polis, she really does, but the city has far too many eyes to let her guard down.
However, Lexa can't wait for Skaikru — for Clarke, and for Madi — to see Polis for the first time. She's proud of her people. Proud of what they've built from the ruins of the old world.
Somehow, Clarke isn't the first to notice, too absorbed with Maid's enthusiasm for meeting more children her age. Not to mention the promise Lexa had let slip back in TonDC; that she would happily train Madi if Clarke lets her. Training not just with Lexa, but with the other Nightbloods. Lexa still faintly feels that excitement every time she's around them. They're her family — all of them — by the shade of their blood, if not by the blood itself.
No, it's not Clarke that spots the Tower of Polis through the receding leaves. Kane lets out an astonished gasp, jaw dropping at the sight of twisted gleaming metal and worn concrete. Lexa struggles to suppress her mirth, still feeling the emotional high of Clarke's affections.
Polis is indeed impressive, and they've seen nothing yet.
As they crest the hill they've been climbing, it doesn't take long for silence to settle over the group of Skaikru. Even her Trikru warriors take a long moment to appreciate the sight of the massive city sprawling out before them.
It's not just the Tower. From there, the various districts of Polis are clearly visible within the ringed wall running around the entire city. A capitol, yes, but it's also a fortress in its own right. Large enough to be considered a clan in and of itself, it has instead been crowned the Capital of the Coalition. Despite it's location on Trikru land, it is home to people from every clan; even a few clan-less nomads call it home on occasion.
Lexa observes them take it all in, though her focus is primarily on Clarke and Madi. Pride swells in her chest at the awe visible on Clarke's face. This thing they have — this thing between them, it's still too new to put into words; they've both agreed to keep it secret, but seeing the way Clarke is looking at Polis makes Lexa want to capture that expression and store it away. Madi seems no less enraptured by the sight. There's a sparkle in her eyes, one that Lexa has only seen a few times, and only when Lexa told her stories of the Nightbloods and Madi's grandfather.
She nudges her horse back into a gentle walk, gesturing for everyone to follow along. The warriors quickly follow her lead, all aware of her rigid posture. Soon they'll be within range of the Polis Guard and their outer scouts.
—
Polis is big. With the Tower of Polis jutting up from the ground like a half-broken shimmering sword, it's all Clarke can do to keep breathing. All she can do to keep her reaction in check. Clarke is old. She remembers the cities from before the bombs had fallen and turned polished chrome metal and dark asphalt to brownish-grey rubble.
In her mind's eye, Clarke tries to compare the image before her to the cities she remembers visiting in her old body. Tries to map the high walls surrounding Polis to the highway networks that used to connect everything, but it's too confusing. Everything is a mismatch of ancient construction and modern layout. What could easily pass for castle walls — high and intimidating, but made from a mismatch of ageing concrete, sheet-metal, and wood — sitting behind numerous farms and and small villages scattered around the landscape, forms a protective barrier for the city proper.
And a city it is. There's no doubt about it.
Visiting Drom — even just seeing Drom — had been eye-opening to Clarke. Had put into perspective just how large and populous the Coalition must be, a stark contrast to the thinly populated TonDC.
Well.. It wasn't really TonDC. Just a fake.
A fake that had been built to fool the inhabitants of Mt. Weather, and a fake that had fooled Skaikru as well. Very successfully. It hadn't been until Clarke saw the Coalition army forming before their assault on the Mountain Men that she realised the Coalition was larger than anyone had thought.
Getting closer to Polis, the party leaves the well-trod forest trail, soon coming onto an actual dirt road that leads straight towards Polis. They pass in between farms, similar to the ones Clarke and Madi had seen around Drom, but this is the first time Skaikru is getting a close look. The lush fields and well-tended orchards leave most of her people gaping. The sight of actual live-stock, herds of cows and sheep grazing lazily on the grass; pigs squealing and playing in the distance, kicking up clouds of dirt.
Clarke alternates between observing her own people and attempting to avoid gaping at the approaching sprawl of the city. She likes to think herself marginally successful, but with Madi excitedly bouncing in the saddle in front of her and pointing out new things with every breath, it's hard to keep up.
Soon massive gates tower ahead of them— open during the day, according to Lexa. Traffic steadily throws through them, some immediately heading down smaller roads to nearby villages. The travellers far too busy to pay any heed to their group's approach. A detachment of guards forms at the base of the wall at the sight of their groups approach, however, visibly steeling themselves for a potential conflict. The moment they spot Lexa — their Commander — they all relax marginally, settling back into their normal watchful stances.
Lexa raises a hand to stop the convoy, resulting in some murmured confusion.
"Only warriors on active duty are allowed weapons inside the Capitol."
Lexa repeats the warning she'd given Clarke the night before, just before she left. Luckily Skaikru doesn't have all that many weapons, just two handguns and the rifle Clarke stole from Arkadia's armoury. The weapons have been given back out for the trip to Polis, having been secured during their stay in TonDC.
They informed Kane about it in the morning, so he is well-prepared for this. He dismounts his horse, quickly handing over his own pistol and ammunition to Ryder, who stands ready with two sacks to keep the items separate. Jasper comes up to deposit his rifle, and Sinclair follows suit with the remaining firearm.
Ceremoniously, Ryder moves to the front of the group, handing over the sack of unloaded weapons to the officer in charge at the gate. Ryder keeps a tight hold on the sack of ammunition, making it clear the two sacks are to be separated.
The officer quickly examines the weapons in the sack, and trusting his Commander's bodyguard to keep the ammunition safe, he nods. However, when he looks up to scan the group, his eyes land on Clarke's armour. Clarke, who still has both her swords, her dagger and all of her throwing knives. Weapons that she has absolutely no intention of handing over.
"You! Azgeda," he nearly spits, "hand over your weapons!"
Huh. Almost forgot what it was like not to be recognized. Must be too bright.
Beside her, Lexa looks on with her usual stoic mask fixed firmly in place, though Clarke doubts she's imagining the slight upturning of Lexa's lips. Clarke's stare finds the officer's, but there's no spark of recognition. She sits more rigid in the saddle, arm protectively in front of Madi, who has gone quiet at the potential conflict. Clarke is just about to speak up. Just about to tell the man who she is—
"She is with me." Lexa's voice rings out, carrying easily over the noise of the bustle of the city. Her posture and tone of voice demands attention— demands to be obeyed.
The way the officer's eyes dart between Lexa and Clarke, that's clearly not what he had expected to hear. The angry expression fades away to be confusion and a light frown.
"My apologies, Commander." His eyes shift back to Clarke, travelling over her features and stopping briefly to stare at Madi. "My orders—"
"Your orders still stand. Only guards, clan leaders or Nightbloods are allowed weapons inside the walls." Lexa says. A loaded glance is exchanged with Clarke, who nods imperceptibly.
"As you know, Wanheda is not bound by our laws." Lexa explains patiently. As one, every guard turns to face Clarke. In the daylight, her glowing eyes are barely visible, but the colour must be enough and Lexa had warned Clarke that her description had been shared after Mt. Weather. She is also the protector of a young Nightblood."
The officer gapes. He's not the only one. Lexa clicks her tongue and her horse starts walking forward. Clarke follows suit, keeping pace beside Lexa as they move through the gate, guards quickly making way for them. When they move through the shadow cast by the wall, gasps ring out as Clarke's eyes suddenly stand out in stark contrast.
Nobody attempts to stop them.
—
Leaving the guards at the gate behind, their group forms a tight line as they travel slowly down a large road leading in the direction of the city centre.
The buildings immediately behind the gate are spaced unevenly. Some seem almost like farm-buildings, barns and silos placed near the gate for easy access. Others are more residential, mostly wooden single-story houses, each with their own little private spaces. Remnants of the old world appear here and there. The cobblestone road occasionally broken up by patches of ageing asphalt. Brick and mortar buildings still stand, façades worn but well-maintained.
Polis is beautiful.
It's nothing like Drom. Nothing like the thin, narrow streets packed tightly with houses and market stalls. It doesn't have the same feeling of being pushed together, to be able to fit everything behind the walls. No, Polis is massive. Like a village that keeps going with each step taken by her horse, growing denser and denser towards the centre.
Just up ahead, a line of bright white stones in the road denote a change in district. The houses on either side aren't too different structurally, still a mixture of old brick and mortar, and new wooden construction.
It's like night and day.
Until now it's been spartan. Utilitarian. Buildings used for storage of goods and food, extensions of the farms outside the walls. Empty houses waiting for the population growth to catch up, maintained by a group of volunteers and craftsmen.
On the other side, however, colours and decorations dance across every surface; doors painted in bright greens and calming browns, some marked with a clan emblem, like the bold black lines and red dots of the Trikru emblem, while others use the clan colours more for more abstract designs.
Like families live in these houses, taking pride in their appearance and making them theirs. Despite road running from the outer wall to the city centre and the busy traffic it carries, there's a distinct lull in the air. A feeling of safety and calm that Clarke has never felt before. Not aboard the Ark. Not in her time in the forest. Not in Drom, and not even in the tent with Lexa last night.
It's captivating. Glancing sideways at Lexa, Clarke takes in her gentle smile and the way pride seems to shine from her very being. She should be proud. Polis is unlike anything Clarke has imagined it would be.
Another line in the road is followed by a tangible difference in atmosphere. The air is charged, electric. Everything is just a bit busier. Just a bit more lively. A few houses sport painted signs, pictograms of services and wares offered. Up ahead, the road is widening, opening up into a square similar to the one in Drom.
"Mom look!" Madi's excited shout captures Clarke's attention. Captures everyone's attention. Following Madi's raised hand, pointing towards the square, Clarke notices a gap in the forming crowd. People have come out of their houses, lining up to greet them, but up ahead there's a veritable crowd waiting for them.
"I sent a few warriors ahead to prepare for our arrival."
Of course she did. Lexa seems to have a plan ready for everything. As they reach the square, some of the warriors travelling with the group peel off, taking their carts to be refilled with supplies for the return to TonDC. Lexa stops in front of the waiting group, looking down at a dour bald man, who looks supremely annoyed. When Lexa dismounts Clarke follows suit, distinctly aware of her people following along behind her.
"Commander, I must insist—"
"Titus."
Lexa interrupts the man, a line forming between her brows. So this is the man Clarke had been warned of, the one that wanted her dead, before even meeting her. Madi squirms nervously in Clarke's arms, eyes roaming over the group in front of them.
Keeping her laughter in is difficult when Lexa turns her back to Titus, instead beckoning over a well-dressed woman from the crowd. It's made more difficult when Titus grinds his teeth but says nothing, eyes pointedly burning holes in Lexa's back.
"Is it done?" When she receives a positive answer from the woman, Lexa swivels to address Skaikru. "Temporary lodging has been prepared in a building reserved for visiting delegations. Deyne here will help you get settled." She shares a few quiet words with Deyne, pointing out Kane and Jasper as the two spokespeople to go to if Clarke isn't available.
They already discussed this. Lexa had mentioned that Nightbloods are given rooms in the Tower itself, under the direct protection of Lexa herself. Something she wanted to offer Madi, to ensure her protection in the populous city. Clarke will never part from her, and her status as both Wanheda and leader of Skaikru easily affords her a room in the Tower as well.
"Klark kom Skaikru — Wanheda — will join the other clan leaders and myself in the Tower."
Lexa still faces Skaikru, informing them as a courtesy, but the statement is meant for Titus. Clarke attempts to keep a placid expression plastered on her face as she observes him. Meets his shocked and incredulous glare with her own. One she hopes appears confident and aloof.
Titus pales in recognition as his eyes lock on Clarke's pulsating purple ones. Raising her brow slightly, she forces a gentle smile that absolutely doesn't reach her eyes.
—
Author's Notes:
Happy New Year!
I hope you have had a wonderful holiday and that you managed to celebrate the beginning of a new year :)
Personally celebrated alone this year, which was a shame, but still managed to have a good times with friends and family over the internet!
Did end up taking a break from writing for a bit, getting caught up in Final Fantasy XIV again. Gosh that game is far too much fun to just run around exploring.
We're getting into the last third of the story now, so I can't wait to hear your thoughts as all the various plot-lines start tying together into (hopefully) a cohesive last act. ?
