Chapter 1: The One I Wish to Protect
Author's Note - Sorry for the short prologue. This chapter is longer and the rest will be as well. This chapter starts off at the end of 3x02
The burlap sack was whipped off her head. Although it wasn't blindingly bright like she expected it to be, Clarke still had to blink and wait for the white spots to disappear as she adjusted to the light after so many hours of darkness. Clarke scowled as much as she could with a filthy rag as a gag in her mouth, to show her discontent.
Then her heart and vision froze. Clarke wouldn't have been surprised if the world froze with her. The sun blinded Clarke. It enveloped Lexa, forming a halo around her, turning her into a picturesque silhouette. Slowly she rose from her lounging position on the couch and came into view as her body blocked the sunlight out. It was a stark difference, her black clothes, pauldron, and dark red sash against the blindingly white light of the sun.
Lexa. The bane of her existence, but the anchor of her thoughts. No matter how much Clarke attempted to run away from her pain, her brain always circled back to Lexa like a merry go around. Clarke wanted to string her up, give her a cut for every person at Mount Weather that died in a blinding rage that consumed her, eating her insides until she felt like she would puke. Lexa deserved it, Clarke told herself. Despite that, her breath caught in her throat as Lexa slowly walked forward. Worry bloomed on Lexa's face, somehow adorning it in a beautiful way flowers could never beat.
Clarke attempted to bring searing heat into her eyes, valiantly trying to burn Lexa with her gaze as if there could be lasers shooting from her eyes if she tried hard enough. It did not work. Lexa looked away from her, not the least bit intimidated, and scowled. "The deal was to bring her to me unharmed."
The following exchange stirred confusion in Clarke; a whirling storm of thoughts flew past that she didn't wish to engage in. Clarke hated how her stomach twisted at the news, how she almost worried about Lexa. No, instead it must've been worry for her friends back at Arkadia and the innocent people of Polis. Most of the conversation flew over her head. Banishment, an army marching to Polis, locking Prince Roan of Azgeda away. At least that answered the question of why he was so eager to bring her to Polis. Clarke could hear the bite in Roan's tone as he demanded the lift of his banishment and the underlying venom in Lexa's reply. Clarke didn't look behind her at Roan, she'd seen enough of his face the last few days.
The rest of the room, however, was hard to miss. It was a lavish room with a sitting area ringed by couches. The tall windows were covered by curtains from floor to ceiling. Despite it being the middle of the day and nowhere near nighttime, candles were still lit all around the room. There were even candle holders with candles on top of a statue of young boys' heads flanking the bed. The room extended past the luxurious bed with a giant ornate headboard carved so huge and intricately it was taller than Clarke herself. The rest of the bed was just as meticulously carved and draped in heavy furs. Briefly, Clarke wondered if Lexa was immune to the heat when she was asleep because with the candles and over the top furs, it was probably swelteringly hot.
Clarke didn't even look when Lexa ordered Roan to be dragged back out and the doors closed with a loud boom of finality. Lexa slowly bent one knee, kneeling so she was level and could look her in the eyes. Clarke's rage burned within her, in the pits of her stomach up to her throat as she clenched her jaw and struggled against her bonds. Then she saw Lexa's expression.
Oh, her face, her green eyes that sparkled even now with some kind of hope, the same hope that had made her the cornerstone of the Coalition-Skaikru alliance. Clarke didn't need a reminder that it was a thing of the past. Clarke loathed the fact that Lexa's eyes practically spelled out concern and that her heart moved imperceptibly underneath the thick layer of unbreakable anger.
With a softness that anybody else would be appalled to see on their commander, Lexa gently removed the gag from her mouth. "I'm sorry. That it had to be this way. I had to make sure you didn't fall into the hands of the Ice Queen." She paused if only to give herself time to think. Or perhaps recollect of her guilt, as she should, Clarke thought. "War is brewing. I need you."
Gathering the low remaining amounts of spit left in her mouth, Clarke spits in her face, fueled by fury. It's only brief, a slight slip-up before Lexa pulls her mask back and wipes the spit off her face, but it's there and Clarke sees it. If there had to be a description for it, it would've been somewhere between relief, disappointment, and heartbreak.
"Well, I'm not going to save you from anything. You didn't save me," Clarke hissed in reply. Lexa seemed completely unfazed by her barrage of words. "You betray me, and then you drag me here as a prisoner, expecting me to help you when you need me. That's bullshit, Lexa and you know it!"
Lexa sighs a quiet, feeble thing that leaves her lips as a wisp. Her eyes roam Clarke's face, her stark green eyes searching, but whatever they were searching for, it isn't found because her eyes once again drop. Clarke refuses to answer, to give her the satisfaction of hearing any part of her voice. Lexa opens her mouth as if to say something, explain something, and a twisted, mangled, part of Clarke absurdly wants to hear it. The explanation for why she did what she did, that perhaps there's another reason that is so big, so shocking that it could perhaps even let Clarke forgive her.
It doesn't happen. Instead, Lexa's face hardens and she calls for the guards. Clarke is dragged out, screaming and shouting her voice hoarse, writhing against the hold of the soldiers until she is dumped into a dark room, one that she doesn't bother checking out because her stubbornness gets the best of her. She stays up screaming and banging on the door when they untie her hands and closes the doors behind her with a soft click of locking finality.
The dark hallway was silent, torches on the walls casting long shadows and a chilly draft coming from somewhere else in the tower that could never seem to be pinpointed. Lexa had ordered the guards to leave. Her heart was a cacophony of contesting arguments. She knew Clarke would run away if given the chance and Lexa couldn't blame her for it. Lexa longed to make amends but knew by how Clarke reacted earlier in the day, Clarke needed space and time.
The guards had told her that Clarke had banged and screamed and cursed well after sunset as if the raw stubbornness of the girl could garner the world's attention. After checking once more there was nobody in that hallway, Lexa slid down with her back against the door until she was sitting on the ground.
She didn't want to treat Clarke like a prisoner. It's why she'd seen to it that Clarke was sent to a guest room and that she was untied and ungagged. It was also why she made the guards leave now that Clarke was silent enough for her to be sure that no enemies of theirs would find Clarke by her incessant screaming alone. If Lexa had her way, the door wouldn't even be locked. However, she couldn't risk Clarke running out and getting captured or worse killed.
Truth be told, Lexa didn't know why she was here. It had been a long, tiring day dealing with reports, ambassadors, treaties, and legalities. Or perhaps that was exactly why she was there in the first place. She was tired and being so close to Clarke somehow eased the burden off her shoulders. After a long while sitting there trying to revel in the comfort that Clarke is safe and cannot be used against her, Lexa murmurs, "You are as insistent as the stars over our heads every night… My wish to protect you and your people is hard to realize. You are not a prisoner...I just want you safe." Her face is painted with a pained smile, before her face becomes steely once more, pushing herself off the ground with her palms and marches off.
Clarke awoke the next day to sunlight that glared in her eyes. She brought her hand up to block some of the sunlight from her face. Clarke hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep. She put the heels of her palms to her eyes and attempted to rub the sleep away. After that, she scanned the room. It wasn't a cell or a torture room like she had previously thought. Or perhaps she hadn't been thinking at all cause the door hadn't been prison-like whatsoever.
It resembled the room she had been brought to Lexa in, but smaller, less elaborate. It had the same amount of candles though. What was it with the candles? Somebody had thrown the curtains wide open to let the light of day through. Clarke sniffed the air and her mouth watered at the smell of food so good that it should've been illegal. Following her nose, Clarke walked over to the area of couches. On a low table was a fresh set of clothes, a bar of soap, and a plate stacked high with bacon, sausages, eggs, and bread. Next to it sat a simple note that informed her the bath was prepared for her.
Saying Clarke was confused was an understatement. It was almost as if Lexa was treating her like an esteemed ambassador. Clarke knew better than to assume that this was how prisoners were treated in Polis.
Clarke's mind burned with shame. At best Lexa was mocking her with all of this, just to make sure that Clarke knew how much Lexa controlled, and how little Clarke and what she consumed and needed mattered to her. At worst, Lexa was bribing her to do something that she didn't even know what it was yet. Her mouth tasted bitter at that thought. Submitting to Lexa's bribes was something she would never do. Then she looked at the plate of food again. Her stomach grumbled and her legs were weak, her head dizzy. Maybe just a slice of bread off the top of the stack...
End Note:
In the original scene Lexa says "I have to make sure Wanheda doesn't fall into the hands of the Ice Queen". In this fanfiction I have decided to replace "Wanheda" with "you" because I feel like that one change in word changes the meaning of this interaction entirely.
