right, i was supposed to finish this like last week and have it published then, but then, um, the american elections got me so stressed that i can't really focus. it's funny, cuz i'm not even american lmao
but anyway, congratulations, americans. maybe you're not as stupid as i thought - but you kinda still are, though. a little. maybe. yeah, you are.
now, read, ponder, and enjoy!
If the sky was dark and filled with stars and the sun had set and the moon had taken over its shift, crickets would most certainly be heard. Never mind that they were in a palace that was most likely cleaned routinely every two hours. Or that the palace maybe even hired an in-house exterminator to deal with pest issue.
Actually, Clarke kind of hoped that she could hear crickets. Hearing those annoying little things would definitely be better than this awkward and sort of unhappy silence that she was stuck in. Oh, no, scratch that. She would actually prefer to be out of this ridiculously elegant palace, but Lexa was here, and there was no way she was peeling herself away from the princess for the next week, if only to reassure herself that her girlfriend was really alive and okay.
Anything would be better than this awkward silence. Silence that awkward. The brother and sister of her girlfriend and herself, left alone in this room, ditched by two people who were considered the kindest of monarchs in the world but also proven themselves to be cunning when put together.
Clarke wondered if there was a closet she could hide in, like she saw in the second Princess Diaries movie.
Of course, there wouldn't be a man stuck in the closet with her. Truthfully, she'd be more comfortable talking to a broom in a closet than be here, being glared at by Princess Anya of Polis and getting no help from Prince Lincoln of Polis, who was also looking at her with an unreadable expression.
"So," Lincoln finally said, standing up from his perch on one of the three couches in the room – yes, they had three couches in a single room. This was madness, she'd like to point out…again. "Palace tour, yes?"
The two women looked at her, one with skepticism and one with undisguised fear. And then Anya sighed and gave an imperceptible nod, waving an arm to gesture at the room they're standing in. "This is the drawing room," she introduced and strode for the door without further ado, clearly expecting the other two to follow her. When her hand landed on the knob, she turned back to Clarke with a smirk. "The east drawing room," she added.
Clarke almost choked on her tongue, while Lincoln just shook his head with bemusement at his sister. He sidled past Clarke and opened the door that Anya had just passed through wider, nodding at Clarke to go before him. Clearly, Anya wasn't going to let her off easy, and Clarke didn't know why she expected anything else.
"I understand that Anya has talked to you about some things."
"She has," Clarke confirmed.
The three of them were currently walking down one of the winding hallways of the palace in the west wing, having completed a tour around the east wing without disturbing private chambers. Anya was walking ahead of them, still starkly unwilling to speak to Clarke about anything other than her home, while she and Lincoln trailed behind as he added some anecdotes to pieces of the palace.
Harlston Palace was an increasingly wondrous building sitting in the middle of Polis Kingdom, with its weaving hallways, ancient artwork, and bottomless library. Rugs were obviously old but well-kept, soft even against the soles of well-polished shoes. Staff were friendly and kind to the owners, and vice versa. The walls and floors and ceilings and décor spoke of nothing but rich history, one built on the backs of men and women who wanted this island to prosper.
And prosper, it did, despite its smallness. This magnificent palace, while incomparable to the size of Buckingham Palace all the way in the United Kingdom, spoke of blood and sweat and the genuineness of this country's rulers, and Clarke was, regardless of her earlier reservations, utterly in awe at the opportunity to be in the belly of it.
Lincoln hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing her a glance as his eyes remained ahead, waiting for his sister to bring them to wherever she wanted. "I imagine she told you all about the way our family works and warned you to not assume things you don't know et cetera," he assumed, raising his brows at her.
She narrowed her eyes, a little surprised at his perceptiveness. To be fair, Lincoln was still virtually a stranger to her, other than the fact that he's a member of the royal family and he was dating one of her best friends.
"Anya's never been very good at…personal, even though there's no doubt that she loves us all, especially Lexa. The two of them were pretty much attached at the hips before our reckless sister was deployed."
"Reckless is probably the last word I'd use to describe her."
He tilted his head, acknowledging her point. "So I guess it's my turn. Consider this a shovel talk, as I never got to give you one." Well, at least he winked, which did comfort her to some level. He smiled when Anya glanced at them suspiciously, and Clarke copied him, to which Anya only reacted by rolling her eyes before turning back. "Lexa is…the favorite," he offered. "We know that, and we accept that. Lexa is the favorite among all of us. She's my favorite. She's Anya's favorite. She's definitely our parents' favorite. And she deserves it. She deserves to be the favorite."
Perhaps the most startling thing amidst his words was that he spoke them with an adoring smile. Not a hint of jealousy detected. Not even acceptance. It was welcomed and it was enjoyed and Lincoln certainly wasn't lying about any of it.
"And we won't let our favorite be hurt. Not again," he added, as if knowing what she was going to say when she flashed him a look. "I like you, Clarke. I do. You're Octavia's best friend and you saved Lexa's life twice and there's obviously something about you that's got her so hooked. You make her happy, and I like you."
Soon enough, Anya was leading them down the stairs at the end of the palace – Clarke didn't know which end, honestly, in this damn maze of a residence – and they were entering the…kitchen.
The staff didn't seem all that startled to see their employers showing up in their territory. In fact, Clarke was certain she heard a chef and a handmaiden clicking their tongues at the princess and prince, as if their appearance was a hindrance to them.
"Hey, dessert with peanut butter tonight, cool?" Anya asked, smirking at one of the staff. The plump woman rolled her eyes but nodded goodheartedly, waving a spatula at them. "You're the best, Jolene."
"Do not disturb my kitchen, Your Highnesses. Princess Lexa has returned and we expect to see her return with a good meal."
"The favoritism in this house," Anya complained, but obeyed anyway, heading out a door that…apparently led to the outdoors. "Okay, we've explored the important parts of the palace – you'll learn your way the longer you're here," she announced, narrowing her eyes skeptically at her sister's girlfriend. "So now, here's the west garden. Or yard. I never really know. It's something."
Intimidating as the heir apparent was, the doctor couldn't help but grow a liking towards her, despite the complete opposite from the other woman. She was blunt and straightforward and not at all like the foreign royal families that she grew up learning about. And despite Anya's bluntness, Clarke also knew that her public image wasn't false either – she cared, truly, but she tempered it all down for the public.
As they started walking again, Lincoln considered it appropriate to continue his diatribe. Or end it, actually. "I guess what I'm trying to say, Clarke, is that if you don't plan to stay, it'd be wise for you to leave after tonight. None of us are willing to watch my sister go through another bout of heartache because of you."
Well, he certainly didn't try to at least soften it down for her, especially with his last sentences. Lincoln made it clear that she had put Lexa through the wringer and it would be quite some time before any of them could forget about it. He – actually, all of them – had also made it clear that they totally took responsibility for their part in the mess.
They wouldn't apologize. She knew they wouldn't. As different as they were, they were still royalty, and royalty didn't apologize under any circumstances unless absolutely necessary. This wasn't necessary. The only person they had to apologize to was the youngest member of the family.
"I'm here to stay, Your Highness," Clarke replied resolutely, not even allowing the twinge in her heart at his words to deter her determination. "Lexa's stuck with me as long as she'll have me."
There was a moment of silence as they kept walking and Lincoln kept studying her. And then he smiled, and she wouldn't deny that she felt some sort of relief at that. When she turned back to her friend, she saw that Anya was looking at her as well, walking backwards. Her, though, Clarke couldn't figure out, except for the fact that Anya probably still didn't like her.
"God, I really thought that was never going to end," the princess just complained, stopping by a…lake.
Holy shit, they had a lake. Fuck, this was getting more and more ridiculous. She was dating a woman with a ridiculous family living in a ridiculous palace, and she didn't regret one bit.
"You talk too much," Anya scolded her brother.
"He really kind of does," Clarke agreed, smirking at Octavia's boyfriend.
Lincoln blinked at her, evidently taken aback by her boldness. She figured that if she was going to stay, she might as well make herself familiar. And truthfully, the fact that he was dating her best friend made it a little easier for her to ease up to him before anyone else.
And as if he could sense her intentions, he reacted with a chuckle and a nod before redirecting his attention to his sister. "I gotta make her see my point. Lexa's my sister."
"Our sister."
He wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "She likes me more."
"How dare you."
"See, who was the one who flew all the way to –"
Before he knew it, there were two pairs of hands, one on his shoulders and the other on his hips. And the four hands united to push his big and bulky body into the lake, scaring all the pigeons and ducks away. It was loud and big, and the gardeners definitely heard, especially with Clarke and Anya laughing so hard.
When he emerged from the surface of the water, eyes wide and jaw dropped, entirely wet, Clarke only winked.
"Consider that my shovel talk to you."
Anya smacked her on the shoulder, drawing her attention. When Clarke turned, there was a hand extended in her direction, and there was a genuine smile on the woman's face. Small and barely there, but noticeable all the same.
She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. While the prince was dragging himself out of the lake, soaking wet and shivering in the cold – Clarke made a note to make sure he took a hot bath later to avoid getting sick in the winter – the doctor reached out and shook the heir apparent's hand. It was a truce. It was a start.
The king and queen were in the room when Anya and Lincoln finally led her to Lexa's chambers. Yes, she had chambers. And yes, Clarke was still wrapping her head around all of the things she'd seen and been told in the past couple of hours. Give her a break; she grew up in a double-story house in the suburban several hundred miles away from the palace.
Storme was, for lack of better word, napping by her daughter's side, arms wrapped protectively around the youngest Woods that it didn't seem like she was letting go anytime soon. It was a bit startling to see the usually regal and smiling queen dozing off, lids shut and mouth slightly opened. See, even queens slept like a normal person.
Richmond, on the other hand, was situated in a fairly comfortable chair by the bedside, clearly awake and watching his two favorite girls being the most opposite of elegance that they probably ever would be. There was no mistaking the adoration in his eyes and the care he had for them, for his family, despite all the mistakes he'd done in the past.
Okay, maybe Clarke was still holding a little grudge.
Lexa was – well, Clarke maybe biased – beautiful, even in her sick and slumbering state. Hair thrown all over, pout on her face, arms wrapped possessively around her mother, almost like she was a child who just wanted a mother's warmth. Clarke loved her. God, Clarke loved her so much. God, Clarke couldn't believe she really let her go once.
"We promised her we'd be here when she wakes up," Richmond grumbled when his children tried to shoo them away.
"You're here," Clarke promised, smiling politely at the queen who was blinking herself away and still reluctant to release her daughter. "I'll make sure she knows you're all here."
The royal couple fixed their eyes on her for a long while, unreadable. It was like these people took classes in making sure they were as undecipherable as the bible. Clarke was certain that Lexa was the same with other people who were not Clarke or her family.
Finally, the queen nodded and extricated herself from her daughter's possessive grip, chuckling softly when Lexa whined a little at the loss of contact and instantly reached for a pillow to hug. Storme stood there, locked onto Lexa with a tender smile stretched over her lips. And then she nodded and started heading towards the door with her husband, wordlessly entrusting the woman to the doctor who was virtually a stranger to this family.
"I like her," Storme muttered, though in the quietness of the room, even Clarke could hear it.
Anya made a mockingly dismissing noise and shrugged. "She's not horrible," she replied as they closed the door behind them, leaving Clarke alone with Lexa.
She climbed into the bed – the fucking four poster bed with the wooden pillars and the thick throws and all – and took a moment to herself to relish in the comfiness of it all. Good lord, if reincarnation was real, Lexa sure knew how to pick it, but she probably hadn't thought about the duties that came with reincarnating into this family.
Carefully but insistently, the pillow was removed from Lexa's grip and she quickly replaced the slot with her own body, tucking Lexa's head under chin and wrapping both arms around her body, taking over for the queen. Unable to help herself, she heaved a sigh of satisfaction at the fullness and completion she felt at finally holding Lexa like this again, and it only got better when the brunette didn't even hesitate to take a protective hold around Clarke as well.
She breathed in the scent of hospital shampoo in Lexa's hair and placed a long kiss at the top of her head. Her phone buzzed in her back-pocket moments later. There was some struggle, but Clarke managed to get it out without waking Lexa.
Anya (5:18p.m.): You're staying for dinner.
"God, I really am an invalid now, huh?"
"It's just temporary."
"The wheelchair? Sure. The cane? I have a feeling it's forever."
"You still have a physical therapist coming over, right?"
"Yes, Clarke. I haven't totally given up on myself yet, despite what they keep telling you."
Clarke rolled her eyes and stopped herself from smacking her girlfriend's shoulder in chastisement. The ramp was undeniably noisy, proving that it had been quite some time since the machine was oiled due to lack of usage. Clarke imagined that the king had probably instructed the handyman to get that done before tomorrow morning.
"What about…Niylah?" she asked after a bit of hesitation.
She was admittedly unsure of where her friend and girlfriend exactly were with one another after the last blowup involving her impulsive call for help to the psychiatrist. Sure, she'd kept in touch with the woman, but she'd always avoided talking about Lexa.
Lexa nodded and looked away. "I went back to see her," she said, to which Clarke couldn't help but exhaled softly in relief. "I guess I overreacted a little when she told me that she saw you," Lexa pondered, tugging nervously at the sleeves of her sweater. "And she did help me, you know. We're keeping it professional."
"She wouldn't have minded if you choose to –"
Lexa shook her head resolutely and cleared her throat. "I trust her. I do. Honestly, I only started talking to her because you recommended her. Otherwise, I think I would have kept myself trapped in this bubble and I wouldn't have kissed you that night," she confessed, laughing a little. "God, I'm so glad I kissed you."
Clarke hummed, deciding to lighten up the mood as the ramp finally stopped. She stood behind Lexa's chair and started pushing. "We did a lot more than kiss that night," she said, lowering her voice so as not to scandalize the staff still lingering around.
"Oh, yes, we did."
At the way Lexa's voice just deepened and went throatier, Clarke could only tighten her grip on the handlebars of the wheelchair to avoid falling into a heap due to weak knees. She cleared her throat loudly and leaned down to peck Lexa's cheek.
"We're not having sex until Wells clears you."
Lexa gasped. "I will have sex whenever I want," she whispered vehemently, mock glaring at Clarke.
"Doctor's orders."
"I'm a princess."
"Yeah, third in line."
"Why do you torment me so?" the princess complained, uncaring of her lack of presence in the midst of handmaidens and footmen. Clarke supposed this wouldn't be the first time they bore witness to such a scene. "Honestly, a girl takes a bullet to her hip and has a heart attack, and she can't even get a good lay."
"Oh, I think you know how good of a lay I am."
"Who says I'm talking about you?"
Clarke clenched her jaw, not allowing the flare of jealousy in her chest get the better of her. She understood well enough that this was Lexa's natural coping mechanism, to make things fun for others just so she could enjoy the sight of the people she loved smile and laugh.
But a part of her still couldn't really get over the fact that Anya had chosen to call Costia instead of her; that she had to learn about Lexa through a text message from Wells. A part of her was still thinking about how beautiful Costia was when they first met, much prettier than the photos that Clarke had shamefully Googled when she first met Lexa Woods.
"Hey, so I'm thinking…" she drifted off to turn around a corner that Lexa pointed in – the palace was still a maze, in spite of the tour earlier.
"Yeah?" Lexa prompted.
The blonde swallowed a mouthful of saliva and smiled at a passing staff, whatever his position was in this place. "I wanna meet Costia. Properly. Not in a hospital environment or whatever."
"What?"
"We met. Briefly. At the hospital," Clarke said. "But I wanna meet her properly." In the chair, Lexa twisted around as much as she could to shoot Clarke a skeptical and uncertain look. "You mentioned you're friends, right? That means she's sticking around. And I'm – okay, maybe I'm jealous –"
"Clarke, no –"
"I know I shouldn't be and this is irrational. That's why I wanna meet her. Just…give me this, please."
Lexa was quiet for a long moment, having twisted back to face forward. They finally reached a door that Clarke distinctly remembered as the main dining room that they usually shared their meals in. She reached out to the knob, slightly disappointed that Lexa was so doubtful about her request.
She guessed she couldn't really blame the princess, given that she herself didn't exactly know what she was gonna do herself if she actually did meet Costia. Probably nothing violence. But she couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be some passive aggression for the things she'd put Lexa through back in the day, even though she hadn't known either of them then.
"I'll call her," Lexa then stated, biting her lip. "I'll call her and we'll see, okay?" Clarke blinked, fingers wrapped around the knob. "You know I was just joking, right? Really, you're the only one for me. Now, and I think forever, if I have any say about it." She nodded, because she did know, honestly. "Plus, your boobs are better."
Clarke rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's incorrigibleness. "We're still not having sex."
Lexa pouted. "You're no fun."
Okay, so just like a five-star restaurant, the dishes were served individually by the handmaidens, starting with the king and finalized by the stranger, the most insignificant individual at the table. But she was still a little taken aback by the services here, not gonna lie – the fact that the handmaidens were immediately there to pick up an empty plate and serve up the next dish without prompting – she was still just a doctor with a salary that could afford a two-room apartment a few miles away.
And believe it or not, even the most delicious restaurant wouldn't be able to rival the food served in this building. Clarke felt like she'd been spoiled for life and there was no way she'd be able to properly enjoy food out there, no matter where she was.
Well, okay, maybe except for Italy, but other than that; well, she was most definitely spoiled.
At one point, while the royal family was catching up and she was taking the opportunity to absorb exactly where she was after a whole day of walking around and listening to shovel talks, Clarke thought about Abby Griffin. Her mother, who had become the coldest person Clarke had ever known once Jake had passed away and who had always tried to push Clarke towards the next most eligible man she could think of.
Sure, their relationship had improved since Abby had somehow heard about what happened to Lexa before the rest of the world did, but the improvement was only marginal. They still had a long way to go, and Clarke was certain Abby would still prefer her with Finn. She wondered what her mother would think now, where she would still push her daughter who followed her footsteps to get with her ideal son-in-law, even when her ideal son-in-law had turned out to be a massive douchebag.
As she sat at the table, she, just like the staff stationed around the dining room and across the palace, became a spectator to this family's antics. She genuinely enjoyed the verbal snipes and the not-so-secret proud looks they carried with them whenever in each other's presence. And Clarke wished fervently that she and her mother could return to the way they used to be, if not totally warm, then not what it was today.
Clarke was envious of the décor and the luxury that the family lived in. She admired the architecture and the level of comfort that they grew up in. But most of all, she was still jealous of their relationship with one another most of all.
"So, Dr. Griffin, why did you choose to be a doctor, after all?" Storme asked as the second appetizers were being served.
Clarke cleared her throat, a little off-guarded at the attention directed at her. "Oh, um, well, my mother was – is a doctor. And since I was a kid, my dad has always told me that she's a hero and is always saving lives. I guess I kind of followed her footsteps because I wanted to be somewhat of a hero myself," she explained, unusually sorrowful at the reminder of the deterioration of her relationship with her mother. "And I've always been more inclined to science subjects than others, so I figured I might as well put it to good use."
"Well, I can reassure you that you are a hero, given what you did to save my daughter's life. Twice."
"Your Majesty, there really is no need to bring that up all the time," Clarke said, blushing at the praise. "I'm glad to have been there. To have gotten the chance to know your daughter." Her blush deepened when Lexa unabashedly pecked her shoulder.
"I bet she was a riot when you first met," Anya commented, earning a mock glare from her sister.
Clarke laughed. "You know, I called her 'Your Highness', and she most certainly didn't like it." Lexa switched the glare from Anya to her. Clarke ignored it and continued, "She went: 'I'm Commander Alexandria Woods. Not Princess. Not Your Highness. None of that nonsense.'"
"I can't believe you remember what I said," Lexa grumbled, shaking her head to herself as she chomped angrily at her salad.
"Babe, I'm pretty sure I'd already started falling for you the moment you opened that stubborn mouth of yours and asked for water. I remember everything we talked about that day."
Consider that mission accomplished, given that Lexa's pout disappeared and was quickly replaced by a self-satisfied grin.
"I'm about to throw up," Anya complained.
"You can be just as cheesy when you want to, sweetheart," Roan cut in.
Roan, the attorney-general, had also joined them for the dinner, yes. Roan, the attorney-general, who was also Anya's fiancé, and rumor had it that he was planning on keeping his full-time job once they got married and that the royal institution was planning on letting him. If this was up to Buckingham Palace, he would soon be stripped of his title to cater to them all.
Clarke was a big fan, though she remembered a time or two when her mother had choice words for him for some of his jurisdictions within her government. Abby was somewhat of a WASP, regrettably. It was sometimes still a surprise that the woman had married Jake Griffin at all.
"Hush, you," Anya chastised, but not without affection.
"Does your mother know that you'll be receiving a countship soon?" Storme redirected the conversation, casting an innocent glance at Clarke.
This was when she was reminded that no one in this room knew about her fraught relationship with her mother, one that had almost deteriorated into complete lack of communication if it wasn't for Lexa's incident. Well, no one in this room except Lexa, but Lexa knew almost everything about her.
"I don't think Clarke is –"
Lexa stopped only when the blonde squeezed her functioning knee warningly and shook her head minutely when the princess turned to her in confusion. Clarke cleared her throat again and scratched the back of her neck.
"I don't feel comfortable telling my mother yet. Not until things are official."
"Things are official."
"Right. Well, let's put it this way. I don't feel comfortable telling my mother yet because I'm still trying to prepare myself for the ego she's going to get once she learns that her daughter's a future Countess."
At that, the entire royal family stopped to look at her, all with different reactions of understanding and not really knowing what to do. Yes, abrupt revelations would do just that, but she figured they should know, considering that they'd be spending quite a lot of time in each other's company.
She smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. "She will know, eventually. But not yet."
Storme laid down her cutleries and cupped her hands together, clearly not letting it go. "I take it you're not…friendly with your mother?"
"Mom!" Lincoln and Lexa scolded, while Anya seemed all too interested to do the same.
Instead of succumbing to her children, the queen only kept her eyes on Clarke. Well, okay then. "No, we're not. Things have happened in the past, which I don't feel comfortable talking about, Your Majesty. But we've been estranged for quite a few years."
"Well, I suppose my husband and I are somewhat experienced in that department," Storme answered, intent clear as she casted a look at Lexa, with whom she'd only recently reconciled with. "Now, I wouldn't pretend to know what's going on with you and your mother. But as a mother myself, it pained me endlessly when it seemed like Lexa would never forgive us." Next to her, she could hear Lexa gulp audibly at the reminder. "I can't speak for your mother, but I'm willing to bet that she's not feeling all too well at the thought of her only daughter refusing to speak with her."
Clarke nodded in agreement. "I know. I know. We're – we're trying, Your Majesty. That's really all I can say. But yeah, I guess for now, we're still – we're not there yet."
"You may not feel comfortable now, Dr. Griffin. But whenever you need to talk to someone who's not my decidedly immature children –" the queen's lips twitched when all her children erupted with their protests "– you are more than welcome to talk to me. Things can get so boring around the palace that I could some fresh stories."
The thing was the queen was obviously being genuine in this. Clarke could clearly see her sincerity in lending an ear for Clarke to maybe ask for motherly advice or even advice on how to deal with her own mother. But it was also more than that. It was an olive branch.
Clarke had taken one from her husband. She had taken two from her children. She and Storme had yet to talk properly. This may not be a private setting, but all the same.
It was an olive branch, and Clarke was undeniably going to take it, because more than anything, as much as she wanted to dislike it, her heart had warmed at the offer. Her heart had expanded at the thought that someone else's mother, a queen no less, would willing to spare some time for her, a lowly doctor. That probably said something about her life as a daughter, but for now, all she could feel was her grudge against them diminishing. They were off to a good start.
alright ciao see when i see you