Lexa's eyes narrowed. This was just too good. There was absolutely no way something like that would just fall into their laps, even with Clarke's track record. She stepped into the center of the tableau, four standing figures and one lying prone. Bowing her head, she made sure to speak gently but firmly. "Domina, may I have a word with you?"
Clarke blinked, surprise flashing across her face before it smoothed out into serenity. Lexa knew she had to be caught off guard, strict propriety having become more and more uncommon as time had passed. Nevertheless, the blonde gave nothing away, merely nodding and beckoning a nearby slave closer. "Summon Monty. Tell him to treat the girl as if she were one of our own, and do not let my mother find out. She would cast her into the streets, injury or no." The slave bowed his head and dashed away.
Motioning for Blake and Octavia to follow, Clarke led them all to a secluded corner. Lexa subtly positioned herself with her back to Raven, blocking Clarke's face with her body. She knew that she seemed paranoid, and yes, the girl really was grievously injured, but it still reeked of a trap.
Octavia gripped and regripped her sword, nervous energy nearly palpable in her small frame. "Lexa, what's the problem? She needs a healer, not to be lying on a stone floor!" She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and shifted on her feet.
Lexa sighed, taking care to keep her voice low and moderated. "The problem is that this is far too convenient. She just so happened to get beaten right in front of you, who just so happened to take her here, where she just so happened to issue a death threat against the Chancellor, who may I remind you we are conspiring to overthrow?" She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It may be real. She may be legitimate and just have the worst impulse control of anyone in this godsforsaken country. However, there is a chance that she is lying, and I am not willing to risk the lives of anyone here by being careless."
She glanced at Clarke reflexively, blue eyes calm and unconcerned. There was a hint of warmth there, though, trust hidden underneath, trust in Lexa to keep her safe. Lexa would be lying if she said that wasn't her main priority, that she didn't value Clarke's life above the rest of them put together.
Blake nodded, breaking Lexa from her reverie. "She's right." Octavia opened her mouth, indignation written plainly across her face, but Blake cut her off. "No, O, she's right and you know it. We don't know a thing about her. I'm not saying we write her off entirely, just make sure she's not a spy. Make sure that she won't sell us all out." He took her hands, focusing entirely on his sister. "Please, O. Let me be the overprotective big brother for once."
Octavia sighed heavily. "Gods damn it, Bellamy, you can't give me that line and those fucking puppy dog eyes every time. It's just not fair."
Lexa smiled grimly. "I think it's justified in this case."
A sudden bang startled all of them, heads whipping around to see the girl clutching her leg in agony. Blake seemed dumbfounded. "Did she just try to stand up? Her leg is broken in at least two places!"
"We'll get her settled in a guest room, and finish this conversation later." Clarke swept away without waiting for reactions to her command, stooping to wrap an arm around Raven's shoulder. She turned back to Lexa and gestured her over with an exasperated tilt of the head, not strong enough to carry the other girl on her own.
Before hurrying to aid the injured girl, Lexa paused for a moment and snorted. Even if she was a spy, Lexa couldn't help but like her a little. She had a fire blazing inside her, one that drove her to do things like stand on a leg that was obviously wrecked. That was admirable. Against her will, Lexa found herself hoping that Raven was genuine. She seemed like the kind of person who would drive Blake mad.
It was getting difficult to maintain her calm. Clarke would never let anyone see it, but her emotions were raging furiously, boiling hot right beneath the surface and she didn't quite know how to handle them. Rage she could handle – it was nothing new, an old friend to her. What was new to her was the worry for her friends, the fear that they could be in danger because of her. Before Lexa, she had never had people's lives resting in her hands, fragile and delicate and so, so easily destroyed. She had never particularly cared how her actions affected others, never cared if she hurt someone in pursuit of her goals.
Before Lexa, she had begun to think she wasn't able to.
Now it was different. Now she had Bellamy, had Octavia, had Lexa, gods. Brave, beautiful Lexa, who was perfectly happy to play the slave if it helped Clarke, who was abused and demeaned and dismissed simply because Clarke needed her to be and never even complained.
Who had swept into her life like the hurricane Clarke had named her and turned it upside down without even trying.
Who had coaxed Clarke's defective heart into loving her so very easily.
Clarke blinked. She didn't- not love, surely. She wasn't capable of loving.
Was she?
She stumbled, taken aback by her thoughts and knocking harshly into a wall. A slave rushed to her side, concerned, but she waved him off and nearly sprinted into her room. She hadn't even noticed her feet turning in this direction, didn't remember anything past getting Raven settled and confirming her orders with Monty.
This… this was not ideal. Distraction at this stage could be fatal, and not just for her. She needed to get her thoughts in order, and that meant sorting out her feelings for Lexa.
One way or the other, she wouldn't leave her room until they were resolved.
Lexa strode into the kitchens quickly, unwilling to leave Raven unsupervised for any longer than she had to. Rationally, she knew that the girl was incapacitated and completely incapable of doing anything besides resting, but her guard was up. Until the situation was resolved one way or the other she doubted she would relax.
A kitchen slave handed her a tray, chicken and bread and rice all sending delicious aromas directly into her face. Her stomach snarled but she ignored it. She had a job to do, and nothing would be gained if she didn't do it.
Raven had been housed in an empty room in the slave quarters. It wasn't the most sumptuous of spaces, but it had the essentials, and it was highly unlikely that Abby would ever discover her there. That wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them, but it would be extremely annoying, and Lexa wasn't sure she had the patience to deal with it at the moment.
She made the short walk in half the time it should have taken.
Knocking briskly on the doorframe, she didn't wait for a response before entering. The girl was sitting upright in bed, pencil in one hand and a sketchpad in her lap. Lexa raised an eyebrow. "You sketch?" She set the tray on the table by the bed, shoving it closer to Raven before settling herself in the room's single chair.
The other girl raised an eyebrow right back at her. "Make yourself at home, I guess." Her voice was dry, good humor lurking underneath slightly endearing her to Lexa. "And… Yes? Sort of?" An enquiring look from Lexa encouraged her to elaborate. "I don't draw art, I draw blueprints. Diagrams. Ideas I have, things I want to build, ways to improve other things, you know?" She waved the pad in the air, a sketch of what looked like- was that a siege engine Lexa could see?
"You are an engineer?" That was impressive. And suspicious in its impressiveness.
Raven looked down abruptly, pad falling to settle back in her life. "No, just a blacksmith. Not even a blacksmith, really. I'm just an assistant." She smiled suddenly, bright and beautiful, but Lexa could see the strain behind it. "It's better, really. I can learn and experiment and figure stuff out on my own without worrying about ruining something important."
Lexa felt her heart twist suddenly. Costia had worn that same smile, many times in fact. She had worn it whenever she had been turned away by the healers in their village, sneers and snide comments trailing behind her, whispering that a foreigner could never be a healer. The memory evoked a pang of sympathy that she would never have expected, one that she tried to quash. Sympathy or no, Raven was a threat. Feeling sorry for people who were threats generally ended in underestimation and tragedy.
She told herself that, but that stubborn thread of feeling refused to back down. Lexa found herself laying a gentle hand over Raven's, ducking her head to meet her eyes. "If the people around you are too blind to see the value in you, find people who will."
Raven's eyes opened wide then slammed shut, a tear spilling down one thin cheek. Lexa furrowed her brow, unsure of what she could have done to upset the other girl.
A soft whisper gave her the answer. "Finn always said the same thing."
"Finn?"
With her free hand, Raven wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall. "He was my… He was my family. The only family I had, really. He was my best friend, my lover, my everything." She sobbed shakily. "We were getting married, you know? We were saving our money so we could leave this cursed city and find a nice village to settle down in. We were going to get married, and I would be a blacksmith, and he would take care of the farm, and when we had kids he would take care of them too. Gods, we were going to have kids! And now he's gone, and everything is shit, and they won't even let me have his body!"
She buried her face in her hands, sobbing hoarsely. Lexa didn't hesitate, moving half on raw instinct as she wrapped the distraught girl in her arms as tightly as she could. She recognized this. This was the pain that came with acceptance, the acceptance that everyone you ever loved was gone. She had gone through it herself, but she had gone through it alone, and then had been thrown to the wolves and told to smile for the crowd as she was ripped to shreds. No one should feel that kind of pain by themselves.
Rocking Raven gently, Lexa smoothed her hand over her hair, humming gently. The song was one that her mother used to sing when she was sad, or ill, or just lonely. It had always soothed her; she hoped it could do the same for the other girl. She wasn't as suspicious of her anymore. The kind of pain she was in was impossible to fake, and no one would go through it for the sake of a job. She would still need to confirm, but in the meantime…
She felt Raven's breathing even out, almost half an hour and countless tears later. Lexa lowered her back into the cushions delicately, taking care to keep her from waking. The girl couldn't be more than eighteen, and was light as a feather. She seemed infinitely fragile all of a sudden, like one wrong move would break her, smash right through the spiderweb of cracks covering her heart and shatter it into a scattered galaxy of lost stars.
Stepping back softly, Lexa left her to sleep. She nearly failed when she walked right into Clarke, the blonde leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile on her face. Putting a finger to her lips, Lexa gestured for Clarke to follow her as she strode off in search of Octavia.
As they made their way out of earshot of the sleeping girl, Clarke tentatively laced her fingers with Lexa's own. The brunette glanced down quickly, taken aback but pleased. The casual contact sent sparks of warmth through her, calming her swirling emotions and grounding her in the other woman.
Swinging their clasped hands gently, Clarke asked her, "What happened in there? Two hours ago you were all but convinced she was a council spy."
Lexa looked down, focusing on Clarke's hand instead of her face. "She reminds me of me." Clarke squeezed her hand lightly, bolstering her to keep going. "It's just- the boy, the one she was trying to bury? He was… He was her Costia. He might have been her Anya, too. I remember when I lost them. Those feelings… They are impossible to fake, not convincingly, not to someone who has experienced them as well." She sighed.
Clarke stopped walking, tugging on their clasped hands to stop Lexa as well. "I'm sorry." When Lexa didn't look up, she ducked her head to try and catch her eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't think I ever truly said that to you, but I'm sorry for your loss." She stepped forward, wrapping Lexa in her arms and snaking a hand into Lexa's hair to cradle her skull. Pressing a kiss to the side of Lexa's head, she murmured, "I am so, so sorry."
Tears welled abruptly in Lexa's eyes, and she stood woodenly for a moment before melting into Clarke's embrace. Turning her head, she buried her face into blonde hair, inhaling the scent of wood smoke and lavender that was so uniquely Clarke.
A cough from down the hall popped the bubble of peace they had built. Lexa sighed softly and disengaged herself from Clarke's arms, who didn't seem particularly willing to let her go. Octavia raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't say anything. Lexa mentally thanked her, unsure that she could handle snide commentary at the moment. Clearing her throat, she went to rest her hand on the hilt of a sword that wasn't there, settling for wrapping a hand around the money pouch that hung at her side. "You hold the rank of captain, correct?"
Octavia nodded. "We all do, yeah."
"So if you gave the city guards an order, they would have to follow it?"
Another nod.
Lexa nodded too, for no particular reason. "Then I need you to release a body to you. Male, dark hair, around eighteen. Name of Finn. Entered guard custody two days ago. Bring him back here, and don't let anyone see you."
Both of Octavia's eyebrows were raised now. "You're giving orders now?" She glanced at Clarke. "I wasn't aware you were the one who gave the orders." Lexa recognized the way her shoulders were beginning to set, stubbornness kicking in before her eyes.
Straightening her spine, she summoned every bit of the steel she had in her and laced it with the fire that came from Clarke. "Yes. I give orders, and you follow them. The only person I will ever bow to is Clarke, and you are not Clarke." She paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "I am no more a slave than you are."
Octavia stepped back as though she had been struck. "Wha- Clarke?" She didn't sound angry, merely taken aback. Lexa took that as a good sign.
Eyes narrowing, Clarke stepped forward. Command radiated off her, an almost physical aura that surrounded her and gave her weight beyond her stature. "Lexa is my hand. She is my second and the commander of whatever armies I have, which right now is you and your brother. When she gives orders, I expect them to be carried out as though they were my own, because as far as I'm concerned, they are." Her gaze softened slightly, and the tension in the air eased. "I trust Lexa with my life, Octavia. You should too."
Several tense seconds passed before Octavia relaxed. She looked infinitely tired, but not mutinous. "All right, Clarke." She rubbed a hand over her face, then turned to Lexa. "I'll get the body as soon as I can. Expect me around nightfall. Do you have an image of him? It should speed things up."
Lexa hesitated, thrown slightly by Octavia's unquestioning acceptance, then nodded. She handed the other woman a sketch that she had slipped from Raven's sketchbook while the girl was crying, anticipating the need for it.
Octavia took it and folded it into a hidden pocket on the inside of her furs. Bowing slightly to both Lexa and Clarke, she turned on her heel and left without another word.
Clarke smiled softly, watching the emotions playing across Lexa's normally stoic face with fondness. It had apparently been a very trying day for the other woman to be showing her emotions so easily – normally it would require blood, sweat, and tears to get her to open up even a little bit. It was kind of endearing, watching bemusement war with worry.
The smile grew. It turned out that accepting the magnitude of her feelings for Lexa resulted in no less distraction than before. The only difference was that now it was a pleasant hum in her mind, one that was easily pushed aside when she needed to be entirely present.
It was strange, really. Clarke had sat and stewed for over an hour, turning her feelings over and over in her mind, picking apart even the slightest of interactions in search of hidden meanings. The conclusion she had come to was that she was not, in fact, in love with Lexa. Her feelings were a combination of attraction, stress, and proximity, and would subsequently fade with either time, distance, or sex, as any of them would remove a contributing factor.
She had been all set to ignore them forever, content to stay in a holding pattern of kisses and plots until after the coup was complete. Then she could move on, let Lexa find a nice girl who would actually love her as Clarke ruled Arcam.
Of course, five minutes after deciding that, she had walked in on Lexa holding Raven as the girl sobbed, careful and obviously aching for her, and felt a burst of affection that was so strong it nearly sent her to her knees.
I could never let her go.
The words had echoed in her brain, searing themselves into every nook and cranny. Lexa was hers, and she would do everything in her power to keep her. The realization was sudden and ferocious, but it felt far more right than the one she had come to earlier. I love Lexa. I love her and I will never let her go.
Facing her in the hall, Octavia's footsteps receding in the distance, all Clarke can do is stare. The aura of command she had donned when talking to Octavia, when giving orders like she was born to do it and challenging her for dominance, it had affected her more than she had let on.
A moment passed, long enough for a flicker of uncertainty to show on Lexa's face. She opened her mouth, to say what Clarke didn't know, and Clarke pounced.
Surging forward, she slammed her mouth onto Lexa's, hands falling to the other woman's hips and pushing her into the wall behind her. The impact drove a soft huff from Lexa but Clarke didn't let up, kissing her until she felt her head spin from lack of air.
She drew back just far enough to breathe and kept her entire body pressed to Lexa's, pinning her against the stone wall. "You are incredible, and I am so lucky I found you."
Lexa chuckled softly, the rasp of her voice sending shivers down Clarke's spine. "I feel lucky." That drew a giggle from the blonde, happy and light, like she hadn't laughed since before her father died. It felt nice, Clarke thought, nice to be able to laugh like that again. It had been so very long since she had felt young enough to be so free with her feelings.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
She didn't need to say it. It wasn't time yet. They had all the time in the world. Right then, Clarke felt as if overthrowing the government would be easier than getting dressed in the morning, merely a blip in the passage of their lives.
We have all the time in the world, and I love you.