Clarke took a deep breath, trying to think. This was not something she had planned for; she had assumed Jaha would be maintaining the pattern that had been set for years. Him changing that now had implications she was not at all happy to consider. There would be time to worry over those implications later, however. At the moment she had more immediate concerns.
Moving forward, she laid her hand on Lexa's shoulder, drawing her attention. "I need you to send a runner- no, better you go yourself. I want a report on this as soon as humanly possible. I need the best information available, straight from Jaha's desk if possible. You resolved the situation with Fox? We're in no danger there?"
Lexa nodded. "She… has been taught the error of her ways. He knows, and will know, nothing."
Clarke took a deep breath. "All right. Good." She turned her attention to the man in front of her. "Bellamy, go be with Indra. I know how hard losing family is. Give her my deepest sympathies."
He nodded and stood, looking her in the eye. "She's going to want to know how you know, you're aware."
Smiling grimly, Clarke nodded. "Oh, I'm aware. And you're going to tell her what good friends we've become, how you were so distraught when you found out that you came here for comfort. You're also going to make sure to mention exactly how much I empathize; how familiar this feels to me. Nothing more, and not obviously, but I need the seeds laid with her. It's far sooner than I had planned, and this is an opportunity we must take."
Bellamy frowned, visibly upset by the callousness of her words, but nodded in acquiescence. He turned to leave but Clarke caught his arm before he could take a step. She pulled him back around, locking eyes with him. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Bellamy. If this was any other time, if I was any other person, that would be all I would say, but I need to do what's best for my people. Please understand that."
The man looked at her silently. Clarke was aware of Lexa shifting slightly behind her, freeing her arm in the off chance she would need to defend the blonde. Clarke didn't move, letting Bellamy examine her as much as he needed to. He was one of her dearest friends, as well as one of her most valued lieutenants. Losing him would be devastating, and she would do almost anything to prevent that.
After a minute of silent contemplation, he heaved a sigh and relaxed, shoulders drooping. A bitter grin twisted the corner of his mouth up. "If I had to pick the one single thing about you that I know is true, it's that you always do what's best for us all." He sighed again. "It's not easy, especially when it's my family involved, but I understand. Gods help me, I understand."
He looked down. "I'll talk to Indra. I think she might be more receptive than you expect, especially after… this." Glancing back up, he wavered for a moment before his expression firmed. "I trust you, Clarke."
Clarke grasped one of his hands in her own, grabbing the back of his neck with her other and pulling his head down. She tilted her own forward and rested her forehead on his, closing her eyes. "You're a good man, Bellamy Blake. I'll do everything I possibly can to prove your faith well-placed."
Lexa shifted again, closer this time. Clarke's eyes flew open, aware of how her position would look from a romantic perspective, but there was no anger or jealousy on Lexa's face. All she saw was empathy and sadness. The brunette stretched a hand out, pressing it to Bellamy's shoulder in quiet support. Bellamy didn't say anything, just covered her hand with his own.
A moment passed in silence, the three caught in a silent scene of sorrow and sympathy. Soon enough, though, a noise from the hall drew them back to reality.
Bellamy drew back, face clear and dry but with red rimming his eyes. He kept hold of both women's hands for a moment, squeezing them before letting them go. He breathed deeply, all traces of emotion vanishing before Clarke's eyes. She smiled sadly, recognizing the feeling of having to push grief away to deal with later.
"Go. Be with Indra. Don't shut her out, and don't let her shut you out."
He smiled. "You don't have to worry about that, Clarke. I've got years of experience in annoying Indra into talking."
He turned for the door, pausing in the threshold. Looking back, he made eye contact Clarke, then Lexa. "Thank you. Both of you."
Lexa held his gaze for a moment, eyes unreadable even to Clarke, before bowing her head slightly. "Ste yuj, Bellamy Blake."
His smile softened, then grew. "Always, Lexa kom Trikru. Always." He left without another word, footsteps echoing slightly off the tiled walls.
Clarke had the distinct feeling that she'd just seen the forging of a peace that would last a lifetime. She found it utterly beautiful.
Lexa kept her eyes fixed on the empty door for a moment, trying to contain her scattered emotions. Blake's – Bellamy's, she corrected herself – situation struck a chord within her, just as Raven's had, just as Clarke's had all those months ago. Clarke seems to be collecting us, she mused. People with no families, people scarred by tragedy beyond any they should ever have to endure. Angry. Hopeless. Desperate. We flock to her and she gives us roots, an anchor in this godsforsaken hellhole of a city.
She smiled grimly. That was the reason she had no doubt Clarke would succeed in their little game of kings. She inspired complete loyalty in people who had nothing left to lose, who would do absolutely anything.
Myself included.
She pivoted, turning to face Clarke. "I'll leave for that report immediately." Pausing, she considered something. "Someone should tell Raven about Octavia's absence. They've become quite close."
Clarke sighed, bringing a hand up to rub her face. "I'll tell her myself. Anyone else wouldn't be able to keep her in bed."
Lexa snorted. Ever since Raven had put together a crude brace for her injured leg, it had been almost impossible to keep the girl from walking around. It was almost admirable, really – it would be impressive if it weren't so annoying.
"I wish you the best of luck with that, Clarke."
Clarke sneered elegantly at her and swept past her out of the room. Lexa rolled her eyes and followed, used to Clarke's occasional bursts of melodrama.
Her hand fell to her side, clenching at the empty air where her sword should sit. She frowned. It was getting more and more difficult to put on the 'good slave' face and grovel to every empty-headed nitwit in a striped tunic that crossed her path. She wanted to be able to stand at Clarke's side with armor on and a sword on her hip, not just cower in the background and be dismissed out of hand.
The reasons why this deception were necessary hadn't changed at all. It was still all of their heads if they were found out, but it was getting harder every day.
She sighed, letting her hand fall away. She would keep going, until the bitter end. Clarke knew that, she knew that, everyone knew that. There was no use in brooding about things she could not change, anyway.
A swirl of white drew her attention back to Clarke, toga settling around her thighs as she draped herself over one of the couches in her rooms. "Jaha's idiocy changes things. You know that as well as I."
Lexa nodded.
Clarke grimaced. "Unfortunately, it means that we have to start putting plans in motion earlier than expected." She paused. "That starts with you."
Lexa frowned involuntarily, taking a step forward. "With me? What do you mean?" Her hand went back to her side, grasping for a blade that wasn't there.
A black blur flew at her face, only quick reflexes and months training with Octavia keeping her from a bloody nose. She caught it without registering what it was, realization dawning only after that what she was holding was a sword.
Drawing it from the sheath, she corrected herself – it was a beautiful sword, all rippled steel and razor-sharp edge. She balanced it on her finger, grinning delightedly at how perfectly it sat. She glanced up to see Clarke smiling at her.
Carefully resheathing the blade, she set it on the table beside her before launching herself at the blonde and kissing her fiercely. "This is amazing! I love it, truly I do, thank you." She kissed Clarke again, drew back to repeat, "Thank you," and returned to kissing her.
Several minutes passed without any words at all.
Finally, Lexa drew back fully, picking up the sword once more to marvel at it without rising from her place on the couch. She turned her gaze back to Clarke when a thought struck her. "Why?" Clarke furrowed her brow and Lexa shook her head. "I mean- no, actually, that's exactly what I mean. Why give this to me? You know what the consequences of me having it are. Practice swords in a remote clearing are one thing, but this is an obviously high-quality blade in the middle of Arkadia. What's the reasoning behind it?"
Clarke flushed. "I can't just give my lover a gift?"
Lexa stared at her blankly.
Clarke rolled her eyes. "All right, fine, yes, it has a purpose. You have next to no combat experience. That needs to change." She cut Lexa off before the woman could do more than open her mouth. "Training doesn't count. There is no actual danger there, beyond a few bruises or some cuts. You have no experience beyond the Arena in a fight where the consequence of losing is death. I intend to remedy that."
Blinking, Lexa turned her entire body to better see Clarke. It sounded like she was saying… "You intend to throw me to the wolves and hope I don't get eaten?"
"Basically."
She grinned at the sight of Lexa's stunned face. "Don't worry, my love, I think you'll be quite pleased with what I have in mind. And remember-" She leaned forward to capture Lexa's lips in a deep, utterly filthy kiss before leaning back abruptly. "-I have absolute faith in you."
Lexa was fidgeting.
Lexa hated fidgeting. She yanked her hand from the hilt of her new sword, clenching it into a fist at her side and devoting all her formidable willpower into staying utterly, completely still.
A moment passed.
Lexa couldn't stop fidgeting.
She didn't think she could be entirely blamed, honestly. Clarke had gifted her an exquisite blade, declared that she would be thrown into a combat situation that could easily end in her gruesome death, then vanished for over twelve hours. She had sent Bellamy to fetch Lexa the next morning.
Bellamy.
The man was lucky Clarke didn't allow her to keep a dagger under her pillow. She would quite happily have stabbed him when she woke to his face that morning.
Footsteps crunched over the dead leaves surrounding the clearing, snapping her attention back to the present and prompting her fingers to clench hard on the sword hilt. Her eyes narrowed. She could hear at least four people approaching, and two of them sounded like large men. The only large man who should know where the clearing was was Bellamy, and he had been called in by the guard unexpectedly that morning.
Octavia had as well, now that she thought about it. How odd. Lexa made a note to tell Clarke about it; unexpected guard shifts usually meant something had happened that required paperwork. Paperwork that could fall into the wrong hands. Treasonous hands, even.
The footsteps slowed by the hidden entrance to the clearing and Lexa stiffened, melting back into the underbrush behind her and slowly drawing her sword. She took great care to avoid letting the steel sing against the sheath.
Blonde hair shone through the gaps in the underbrush and Lexa relaxed immediately. Clarke stepped gracefully into the clearing, looking around expectantly. Sheathing her sword, Lexa stepped out into the open.
"Clarke. What a pleasant surprise." Her voice was as dry as the desert. She admitted it may be petty, but she hadn't quite forgiven her lover for abandoning her so cruelly to Blake – to Bellamy that morning.
Her tone didn't seem to faze Clarke at all, though. The blonde beamed at Lexa, skipping forward and hugging her happily. "Lexaaaaa…" Clarke sang her name like a child would, stepping back and bouncing in place.
Lexa's brow furrowed. "Are you drunk?" Clarke laughed, but that really didn't disprove her point. "Clarke, it's barely midday."
Clarke rolled her eyes and stilled herself. "No, grumpus, I'm excited. I have a gift for you!" She paused. "You have to swear not to overreact, though."
Lexa blinked. "Clarke, that is not a good way to preface a gift." She looked more closely at the woman in front of her, noting her empty hands with slight confusion.
A sly grin worked its way across Clarke's face, transforming her from the innocent woman-child she had been pretending to be a moment before into something entirely wickeder. Lexa swallowed, feeling the heat in Clarke's eyes rush through her entire body.
"Do you remember what I said last night? About your lack of combat experience?"
Lexa nodded wordlessly.
"Well, I've wanted to remedy that for quite some time now." Clarke smirked. "I wanted to do something more than just have you walk around at night and try to look tempting to muggers, though. I wanted it to be more… meaningful, shall we say. Then I had an idea. A wonderful, devious, perfect idea." Her smirk turned slightly manic and a spark leapt in her eyes.
She swayed forward, her entire body rocking towards Lexa. Draping her arms around Lexa's shoulders, she rested their foreheads together and let her weight rest on the brunette. Lexa steadied her easily, far more focused on what she was saying than by how touchy she was being.
"You've been so good for me, Lexa, doing everything I want and everything I need without ever once asking me for anything." Clarke pouted playfully, then brushed a feather-light kiss across Lexa's lips.
"I wanted to make that up to you." She drew back and gestured to the clearing's entrance. "Come on in, gentlemen."
Monty ducked into the clearing, smiling softly at Lexa when their eyes met before circling to stand at Clarke's side. His presence confused Lexa momentarily, but her mind went blank when she saw the man that followed the boy in.
Him.
Clarke knew she was acting strangely. She knew it, but she couldn't help it. There was so much adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream that she was considering it a victory that she was still managing to stay tethered to the earth.
Lexa had been getting restless in recent days; Clarke could see it clearly, even if the other woman had been doing her best to suppress it. As the months passed without any serious action, Lexa was beginning to chafe more and more at her slave role. Clarke couldn't do anything to alleviate that particular burden, but she could do her best to help in other areas.
It had taken some work, and more money than Clarke was entirely comfortable with, but she had finally managed to track down the men who had stolen Lexa from her home all those many months before. Octavia had come to the blonde two months earlier with a delirious and drug-addicted man who had turned out to be her combat instructor from early in her army days. After almost two weeks of intensive care, the man had finally woken up and proven himself a veritable gold mine of information on the major mercenary groups.
Lincoln, as his name turned out to be, had been lured into leaving the military to join the Reapers, one of the few companies that wasn't state-aligned. He had put out an inquiry to his contacts about the identities of the men involved with the Lignum raid and managed to get the names of eight men who had been there and still lived.
From there it had just been process of elimination. Clarke knew the most basic of details about their appearance and they had honestly just guessed at one point, but they narrowed it down to the two men standing in the clearing at that very moment.
A month after finding them, the company had arrived back in Arcam. Clarke had waited all of three days before hiring the two men.
The look on Lexa's face confirmed their identity. It was almost frightening, a mix of shock, horror, and pain. Clarke vowed to herself that after this was over she would spend her entire life working her hardest to ensure that look never again appeared on her lover's face.
First, however, came the main event.
Clarke shook herself free of emotion and let a sly smirk creep onto her face, the familiar drumming bloodlust beginning to beat against her skin.
"Tristan, Dax, meet Lexa." She met Lexa's eyes. "Make it slow."
The men grinned at each other and moved further into the clearing, one drawing a short knife and the other not bothering with weapons at all. Lexa didn't move for a long second, staring deep into Clarke's eyes before giving a short nod and drawing her sword.
The man with the knife, the one Clarke thought was Tristan, sniggered at the sight of it. "You didn't mention the slave got herself a blade, blondie." He twirled his knife confidently through his fingers, splitting from Dax and circling around the other side of Lexa.
Clarke rolled her eyes as she responded, sarcasm dripping from every word. "It's a recent acquisition. Will it be a problem for you two?"
Dax cracked his knuckles and spat. "Fuck no. One slave bitch with a stolen sword? I could break her in half in my sleep." His eyes gleamed. "I feel kinda bad taking your money. This is like my fucking birthday."
Clarke grinned, sudden and sharp. "You're welcome to return it."
A laugh was the only warning Lexa had before Tristan lunged, knife arcing through the air in a lazy sweep. She dodged easily, not bothering with her blade.
"Then again, maybe I'll just take it from your corpse."
The knife swept through the air in an arc of silver and the world slowed to a crawl. Lightning crackled through Lexa's veins, sparks of rage-fear-joy-hate melding together into a fierce bloodlust. She dodged the knife once more, weaving to the right and bringing her sword up in a vertical cut that left a shallow slice up Tristan's side. The man didn't flinch, just adjusted the grip on his knife.
Lexa was faintly aware that she was grinning.
Dax sprang forward, fist shooting towards her face. Lexa swayed gently to the side and twisted, catching the arm as it sailed past her face and pulling hard, sending the taller man stumbling off-balance into the path of Tristan's knife. He wasn't able to pull back entirely and the knife opened a gash along Dax's ribs.
Dax cursed and pulled back, smacking the cut hard with one hand while the other pulled a long knife from a sheath on his side. He spat again, never taking his eyes off Lexa, and hissed, "I'm gonna cut you so bad you'll be begging to die, cunt."
From the side of the clearing Clarke tsked. "Such language."
Lexa just smirked before surging forward and to the left, keeping Dax between herself and Tristan as she swept her blade in a crescent slice. He tried to block the strike but obviously underestimated the force behind it, knife flying out of his hand. Growling, he backed up, but Lexa didn't let him get far, rushing him and thrusting her sword in a vicious stab at his midsection. He managed to lunge backward and avoid being disemboweled but stumbled and fell, hitting the ground hard. Lexa grinned wildly and stabbed down hard, driving her sword straight through his abdomen and into the ground below.
She didn't have time to enjoy her victory, though, as Tristan roared and charged forward, forcing her to abandon the blade and leap out of the way. Her adrenaline surged but she beat it back. It wouldn't do to make a mistake at this point, after all. There were debts that needed to be paid.
Tristan surged forward with a series of short, sharp strikes, forcing Lexa to duck and dodge continuously to avoid being skewered. She wove around the blade, retreating slowly as she did so, until she managed to catch his arm and strike the nerve cluster in his forearm. The blade fell from his fingers, but before it had even hit the ground he headbutted her hard, sending her staggering back.
Luckily, Tristan couldn't reach the knife to pick it up again; unluckily, there was blood dripping into Lexa's eyes from a cut on her forehead and her head was swimming. He took advantage of her dazed state and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard but didn't have time to react before he followed her to the ground, straddling her and wrapping his rough hands around her throat.
Gasping for breath, Lexa fought back a surge of panic. Octavia hadn't taught her how to deal with this specific situation, but she knew that the only way she would survive was by staying calm and controlling her reactions.
She saw Tristan's face through the blood in her eyes, twisted into a rictus of hate and rage. Baring her teeth, Lexa swung both hands up and clapped them as hard as she could over his ears. The angle wasn't right for her to blow his eardrums out but the blow staggered him enough that his grip loosened minutely, enough for her to surge forward several inches and grasp his head.
The man immediately bore down again with his full strength but by that point Lexa had managed to get a solid grip on the back of his head. She could feel herself slipping, but she had enough time to drive her thumbs into his eyes as hard as she could.
Tristan screamed. Lexa felt a rush of sticky fluid gush over her hands and begin to drip down her forearms, unsettlingly warm, but she didn't let the sensation throw her off. Tristan released her throat and reeled back, hands coming up to try and pry her own from his face but slipping in his own blood and ocular fluids. She surged up again, this time managing to knock the man off-balance and following him when he fell backwards.
When she felt her thumbs hit bone she released him, allowing him to fall sideways and curl up on the ground. She heard him begin weeping, tears falling between moans of agony as she stood and moved to pick up both fallen knives. Retrieving them, she dusted them off and turned back to Tristan. Behind them she could hear Dax coughing wetly, a foul stench telling her that she had managed to slice his bowels.
Two steps took her back to Tristan, a swift kick snapping his head back and encouraging him to uncurl from his ball. His weeping increased in volume but she took no notice of it, nudging him with her feet until he was laid out flat on his back.
By the time she had him arranged the way she wanted, he had begun begging. Promises of money, pleas for mercy, appeals to a higher power; she ignored them all.
"I wonder," she mused out loud, "When Costia begged you for mercy as you raped her to death, what did you think? Did you find it arousing, to hear her scream and beg? Or did you not even notice – did you see her as so far beneath you that you didn't even realize she was crying?"
Tristan didn't answer her, not that she had particularly expected him to. "And Anya too. She screamed, I remember that. I think she might actually be the lucky one of the three of us, though. You didn't rape her, you see, and she got to die quickly. Well. Relatively quickly."
She sighed. "I begged too, you know. I begged you, your friends, the gods, everyone I could think of if you'd only let them live." She kicked his legs apart slightly. "Guess it didn't matter to you, though. You took them from me, and you laughed." Her hands tightened around the hilt of the knives. "Never again."
"For Costia."
The first knife came down, stabbing hard through his groin. A strangled scream erupted from his throat, but she didn't give him time to try and wriggle away.
"For Anya."
The second came down into his chest, splintering bone as it drove through one of his ribs. Blood began to pool at the corner of his mouth and his screams abruptly choked off into nothingness as his vocal cords tore. She drew her own knife and knelt.
"For me."
The last knife drove straight through his throat.
Clarke watched in awe as Lexa sat back on her heels, tilting her head towards the sky and closing her eyes. She didn't move for a long moment, breathing steadily as her lips moved silently. Clarke didn't make a sound, not wanting to disturb her lover from her reverie. She did her best to memorize the scene, though; Lexa, crouched over a body with a line of knives running up it, blood coating her arms to the elbows, face turned to the sky with an almost rapturous expression.
It felt almost spiritual to look at, like seeing a goddess come to earth.
Lexa brought her head back down suddenly, standing in one fluid motion and leaving her knife where it sat. She moved to where Dax was still gasping, yanking her sword from his gut in one harsh move. She brought it to his throat, preparing to drive it down and kill him quickly, before seeming to reconsider. Stabbing the blade into the dirt next to his head, she drew a smaller knife from his boot and crouched.
Clarke was utterly unprepared to see Lexa grasp his jaw, force it open, and cut his tongue from his head. The sight filled her with a rush of heat, one that knocked her off balance with its sheer force. Lexa stood back up and spat on Dax.
"Die slowly."
The other woman drew a hand down her face in a familiar motion, looking for all the world like she was wiping away the emotions of the last few minutes. She pulled her sword from the earth and turned around, and the breath was knocked from Clarke's lungs.
If she had thought seeing Lexa before was spiritual, she knew that the sight in front of her could only be called a religious experience. Lexa had painted her face in Tristan's blood, a crimson handprint that swept across her sharp cheekbones and full lips, and had her naked sword in hand. It was like looking at a goddess of war on earth – she was too glorious to walk among mortals.
Clarke took five breathless steps forward and dropped to her knees in front of Lexa, gaze still riveted to her face in awe. Lexa's brow furrowed and she shifted as if she were going to reach out to Clarke but the blonde shook her head, holding a hand up to stop her. "No, let me just- let me." She dropped her hand.
"You're the only person I'm ever going to kneel to, you know? The only one I will ever truly consider my equal in every way." Lexa blinked, taken aback by Clarke's words. The blonde smiled softly. "You're utterly magnificent, Lexa kom Trikru, and know that no matter what the future holds, it will come with the knowledge that I love you, and will always love you. From the moment I saw you I knew you were special, and not even death can keep me from you. Whether this ends with a crown or an axe, I will fight with everything in me to stay with you." She paused, giving Lexa a moment to wipe sudden tears from her eyes.
"I love you. To the edge of forever and beyond."
Lexa offered a hand wordlessly. Clarke took it and allowed herself to be pulled up and into an embrace, wrapping herself around Lexa as much as she could.
Turning her head, Lexa whispered, "I love you too, you know."
Clarke smiled. "Yeah, I know."