Chapter 30/31
Almost a month passes before Clarke leaves Arkadia and the Mountain for Polis, and it's odd. It feels like it has been so long since she was in the city that Clarke finds herself thinking it more home away from home. The Ark had once been home to her, but since coming to the ground she feels it more a long lost acquaintance, someone she should know more than she does, someone she knows less than she wants. Ronto will always be home to her now, with its open snow swept field, and the glistening white of the plains that stretch out as far as the eye can see.
And yet, she hasn't been to Ronto for what seems likes months. Maybe she'll make the time to visit, to stay longer than she should be able to afford. But after things have settled.
Perhaps not visiting her home is the least of her worries though. Or they should be, if only because small crews had already begun surveying the collapsed reaper tunnels. Skaikru engineers weren't too concerned about their collapse, but she knew some of the clans seemed even more wary of them now. Maybe one shining light within the annoyance that was the tunnel's collapse was that someone had found her panther skull and fur pelt Ilian had presumably discarded somewhere in the mouth of the tunnels. It was a little thing that Clarke had forgotten about in the rush of danger, but she had realised its absence on her second day of wakefulness in Arkadia's medbay. So she was as happy as could be expected for its return.
And so Clarke sighs, she feels the barest hints of an ache in her side, the still fresh scars just a little sensitive still. A procession of her Azgeda warriors ride out behind her, some sent down by King Roan to replace the injured returned home to heal, others having been rotated out of Polis and to the Mountain. A few Trikru ride with her, too, some simply taking advantage of the company on an already planned journey, some seemingly permanently assigned to her forces whenever she rides through Trikru lands.
In the month since Ilian's attack on the Mountain Lexa had travelled frequently, often to nearby villages and towns, often to Polis and back, and mostly to settle disputes and uneases given the circumstances. Due to that Clark hasn't had much of a chance to speak with her, to spend some time alone without the constant interruptions of duty and responsibility. And so Clarke finds herself eager to see Lexa in Polis. She knows they will be able to steal some time sequestered away from demanding ambassadors and clan representatives.
The gates of Polis look like the explosion never happened. The crater the explosion caused is gone, already packed and filled by countless hands. Fresh paint adorns the buildings and structures that had been damaged by the blast and even the guards who stand at the ready don't seem filled with as much unease as they had been.
One of her warriors blows out a long note on their horn to herald their arrival and Clarke finds herself enjoying the depth of the sound as it carries over the wind and into the sky. A flock of birds, startled by the sudden bellowing fly into the sky and chirp and flit their way into the distance.
Clarke looks over her shoulder as she continues to ride, and her gaze lands on Ontari who sits on her horse, eyes cast upwards as she traces a cloud or two. Her arm still remains stiff, Clarke can tell that much. Ontari seems to keep it closer to her side than she did before it being injured again. But Clarke won't push the subject, she knows Ontari well enough. She looks at one of the many carts being drawn by great horses. Some carts are full of supplies, furs, any other belongings and possessions her warriors wish to take with them, or to trade at any one of the many markets spread throughout Polis. Some of the carts carry the more seriously wounded of her warriors, some who are still capable of serving in a reduced capacity until they heal fully.
Entani sits reclined back on the first of the carts being drawn, her ribs still mending. But Clarke finds herself looking at Torvun who sits next to her, the man's eyes guarded and his arms crossed. Clarke hasn't mentioned it, she hasn't pried, but she knows Torvun's injuries plague his thoughts, she knows him in need of more help than he asks for. That same pang of guilt flares up in her and she tries not to let herself grow sour, angry and furious at the way life has treated Torvun.
If only because she doesn't want others to feel her unease. Not when so many long for peace and quiet after the recent troubles.
Clarke shakes her thoughts free and tries to focus on something different, if only because it will do her good. And so she follows the procession of carts until her gaze lands on Raven and a select few other Skaikru members making the journey with them. She has a feeling about why Lexa requested their presence, but she won't pry, not when she is sure Lexa has more than probably planned her reveal in front of the ambassadors.
But Clarke's attention is brought back to the gates of Polis as she hears a return horn being blown. She finds more warriors and seconds, stablehands and Polis people have gathered at the gates to greet them. But at the head of the gathering she finds Lexa standing, back straight, hands held proudly behind her as her chin lifts in greeting.
And maybe, as she feels Lexa's gaze meet hers, she thinks their soon to be reconnection long overdue.
It takes them longer than Clarke would like before they find some quiet. Not that Clarke was complaining. She's happy to make sure the Azgeda settle into the Azgeda sector of the city, especially Torvun who she knows won't ask for help. Torvun understands though, and she knows him thankful for the wheelchair Skaikru offered to supply to help him get around until his injuries heal well enough for the prosthetics to be made and fitted. She isn't surprised when Torvun refuses all but the most necessary of help, and she knows Entani and Ontari both will be there for him should he ever ask or need.
Clarke stays just a little longer than needed as she looks over her people's needs before she bids them a quick farewell and heads to the Polis tower.
Clarke finds herself pulled into an already devolving ambassador meeting, this one she isn't entirely sure what about. But she snaps at one ambassador in particular, she glares down another and she finds herself smiling as Tahgo, Blue Cliff's still youthful ambassador puts Elios in place, the man seemingly trying to shift blame for the recent troubles Ilian has caused.
She thinks it typical of most, and she knows it never to end. But perhaps she doesn't mind, if only because it tells her life is turning back to normalcy. However frustrating that can be.
And so a tired breath, a quiet moment and a much needed calm settles over her as the last of the ambassadors exit the throne room.
Lexa sits in her throne, legs crossed and finger ever so slowly running over the edge of her armrest as she seems to war with a single strand of hair that refuses to be tucked back into place.
"It's like nothing happened," Clarke says as she slouches in her chair, as she lets her legs kick out in front of her and as she lets herself relax more than she has in hours.
"Yes," Lexa says, and Clarke likes the way Lexa smiles when she sees her posture. "That is the way it has always been, Clarke."
"I know," Clarke says as she stands with a grunt and begins to walk up the few short steps before she comes to stand in front of Lexa. "So," and Clarke hums for a moment as she tries to figure out how best to ask.
"So, Clarke?" Lexa's head cocks to the side and her lip twitches at the corner, and Clarke knows Lexa can guess what she is about to ask.
"Why's Skaikru here?"
Lexa smiles a little more as she stands with a sigh, the strand of hair clearly having won this battle as she seems to ignore the way it rests against her nose.
"Come, Clarke," and Lexa gestures for her to follow her into the side room while waving Gustus off who simply bows his head and remains where he stands by her throne.
Clarke finds herself following, and for a moment she almost turns to tell Torvun to wait before she catches herself and grimaces at the pain that still wriggles its way into her heart. Lexa must sense it for she eyes her cautiously but seems to decide not to question it. Clarke's half thankful for it, and half unsure how to feel. She hasn't even discussed with Torvun what he wants to do now. Part of her knows he still feels a responsibility to serve her, that much is clear from his refusal to be left at Arkadia, the Mountain or to even return to Azgeda. But still, it's a guilt riddled subject she'll need to clear with him in time.
"Clarke?"
Lexa's voice cuts into her thoughts gently and Clarke finds that Lexa stands by the doors she has closed, her eyes careful as she takes in whatever she must see.
"I'm ok," Clarke says as she smiles.
She reaches out and squeezes Lexa's hand before she moves towards the large table with the map of the lands spread out atop it and Lexa doesn't push the subject as she comes to stand next to her. They remain silent for a moment, Lexa perhaps lost in thought, Clarke unsure of where her own thoughts are as her eyes trace over the rivers, the forests, the models and the letters scrawled across the map in front of them.
Eventually Lexa must organise her thoughts for she takes in a deep breath, she holds it for a while and Clarke smiles as she sees the tension slowly seeping away from Lexa's face.
"Ilian has shown me that I must do more," Lexa begins, and Clarke nods, she nods and she understands the worries Lexa must have.
"I know," and Clarke can't figure out how they're going to stop another person from getting the same ideas. She opened the Mountain to all clans, she even brought tech to Polis to show the ambassadors that it couldn't be bad. And yet Ilian still happened.
"Have you ever been to another clan other than Trikru, Clarke?" Lexa asks then, and Clarke looks up at Lexa to find her looking at her, head tilted to the side ever so slightly.
"No, not really," Clarke shakes her head. "I don't think I have," and she frowns, thoughts trying to see where Lexa goes with the question. "My time's always been spent travelling from Azgeda to Arkadia, the Mountain and here."
"I see," Lexa's lip twitches ever so slightly, the movement perhaps anticipation, perhaps a sign that Lexa knows the punchline to a joke Clarke hasn't even heard yet.
"Why?"
"We are going to go on a journey, Clare," Lexa begins carefully, and though Clarke sees Lexa's eyes sparkle just a fraction in response to the frown she feels forming between her eyebrows.
"We're going on a journey?"
"Is that not what I said, Clarke?"
"Stop teasing me," she pushes into Lexa's space, narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, and for a fraction of a second she wishes she weren't just that little bit shorter than Lexa.
As if to compound on that very fact, Lexa lifts her chin ever so slightly and looks down at Clarke with an air of smugness that makes Clarke just want to reach out and poke it away.
"Explain, Lexa," Clarke says, but as she looks at the map and then back to Lexa, and as she thinks about the members of Skaikru Lexa requested come to Polis, she thinks she knows.
"We must show the clans that tech is not dangerous," Lexa begins. "The vast majority of clans-people have never interacted with it," and she gestures to the map. "Not even all forest clans would have come face to face with it other than their experience with the Mountain Men," and Clarke nods at that. "So," and Lexa smiles subtly. "We will bring tech directly to the clans."
It's not that simple, Clarke thinks, and from the way Lexa seems to be avoiding a tiny detail she thinks she knows why.
"How long would it take to tour all the clans?" and Clarke sees the barest hints of pause in Lexa's expression before she answers.
"A year."
"I see," Clarke says.
Clarke is sure if she wasn't actually in some awkwardly undefined relationship with Lexa that being told a whole year of her life was being planned out would annoy her immeasurably. And yet, the longer she think it over, the more she finds she doesn't mind that idea.
"We would not go any time soon," Lexa says quickly, perhaps reading Clarke's silence as disproval. "Not this season. Perhaps not even next. But it will be more than beneficial for all clans to be exposed to tech, to have Skaikru tradesmen, Raven and her kru, show the clans what tech can do, fix problems they may have that can not be fixed with anything but tech."
"Is that so?" Clarke can see Lexa ever so slightly beginning to squirm under her feigned glare.
"Yes, Clarke," Lexa lifts her chin even more and this time her gaze hardens. "And," but there's a pause, it's subtle, it's long, it's enough to tell Clarke that something more is about to be said.
"And?" Clarke softens her gaze just enough that Lexa can see she has her full attention.
Lexa seems to deflate ever so slightly now, and it's Clarke's turn for her head tilt to the side ever so slightly as Lexa looks away and swallows an all too large lump in her throat.
"I—" Lexa pauses, she seems to take in a deep breath that seems so very uncharacteristic of her. "In the Mountain," she begins. "When I entered in search of Ontari and Entani," and Clarke knows Lexa tried to rescue them, she knows she did rescue them. "I thought myself trapped," Lexa says and her gaze returns to Clarke. "I thought all three of us trapped," Lexa blinks back something deceptively close to a tear as she looks Clarke in the eyes with an intensity that is raw, open, honest and hopeful. "I was prepared to end their suffering," Lexa says after she takes in a steadying breath, "I thought we were about to burn to death and I knew I could save Ontari and Entani a painful death. I knew I could bring them peace," Clarke didn't know that, Lexa never mentioned that. "I was ready to do the same for myself," she says quietly.
"Lexa," Clarke says, she steps closer, lets her hands take hold of Lexa's, perhaps in comfort, perhaps in some hope that she can cease whatever pains that decision must have had on her. "You don't need to explain that. I—" Clarke swallows the lump in her own throat. "I understand. I don't blame you for making that decision—"
"No, Clarke," Lexa says, and her gaze never wavers from Clarke's. "That is not why I tell you this."
Lexa brings Clarke's hands up to her lips, she presses a soft kiss to them and Clarke finds herself unsure, uncertain and feeling much less the warrior she has become and more a youthful teen full of hormonal emotion. But Lexa continues, and her voice is low, so low that Clarke has to strain to hear it at first, but as the continues to listen, as she to hear, she feels the words in her heart louder than any words she has heard before.
"My last thought was of you, Clarke," Lexa says. "I realised I did not wish to spend a life without you by my side. And I realised I did not wish to lose you."
"Lexa—"
Her voice is silences by Lexa kissing her hands once more, and this time there's a hopefulness, an intensity and a certainty within Lexa's gaze.
"I love you, Clarke," Lexa says, and this time her voice is strong, this time it is sure and full of pride, strength and depth. "And if you will have it, I wish to tell the clans that you are mine, as much as I am yours."
Perhaps for one split second, one infinitesimally small fraction of a microsecond, Clarke thought Lexa was about to propose. It would have been funny.
Maybe.
What a silly thought.
Right?
And so, without even thinking, Clarke smashes her lips against Lexa's in a kiss that she knows so very unbecoming of either one of them. But she doesn't care.
And why is that?
because,
"I love you too, Lexa."