Lexa is the first to wake from their nap sometime later. From the position of the sun outside her window, she guesses it couldn't have been more than an hour. Clarke's presence so close to her very quickly becomes a distraction as she feels her body heat, her weight, hears the sounds of soft snoring. Lexa cranes her head down to appreciate the view and admires the peace that Clarke seems to have found in sleep. Her many burdens are gone from the creases in her features and the commander thinks back to the drawing; how she had looked so similar in Clarke's delicate charcoal sketching.

Is this how she sees me?

She shifts a bit and feels a pain in her torso, reminding her for the first time since waking up earlier of the sheer weight of the events which had transpired mere days ago. She knows how close she had come to death; knows how serious that would be in such a time of political unrest. The Commander places a deep trust in each of her naitblida; knows that they're loyalty runs deep. She also knows that toxic desire to please the people that is so common to each new Heda. Still, all she can bring herself to think is that she's glad it is her lying wounded in bed, and she would readily take a wound for Clarke again. She would take death.

The mere thought that Clarke could've been killed—especially under her watch—causes her immense pain. She's surprised to find that she doesn't want Titus dead; she understands his actions, even. But she wants—needs—to know that Clarke will be safe in these walls. Within these walls is the only place that Lexa can guarantee that.

With this thought, she leans down to bring her lips to the sleeping woman's forehead as she gently strokes her cheek. Her lips trail down to meet Clarke's and she is surprised when she feels the pressure being softly reciprocated. Clarke mumbles her disapproval into Lexa's lips when the kiss is broken all too soon so that she may gaze upon her Wanheda's face. The moments pass them by as they lay like that, drinking each other in.

Clarke gazes at her with her head propped up in her hand in a manner very similar to their positions from the last time they laid together in this bed. The intensity of the fondness in her eyes steals Lexa's breath and leaves a lump in her throat that makes swallowing difficult. She looks as if she is trying to unravel all of Lexa's secrets in that one gaze; to read her mind.

"What?" Clarke asks softly; her eyes are suddenly shining with amusement. It is only in that moment that Lexa realizes she must've been trying to do the same. She smiles thoughtfully, unsure how to answer the question.

"Nothing….and everything."

Clarke simply offers an understanding grunt and a moment later leaves Lexa feeling a bit disappointed as she begins to move from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

There's that amusement again. Clarke muses that Lexa seems far more like a child in that moment then the composed, stoic leader of the twelve (thirteen) clans that she has grown accustomed to. It makes for quite the endearing sight.

"No where you aren't following, Commander."

"Oh?" Lexa raises a curious eyebrow, but takes the hand that is offered. Clarke reaches to help the other woman to her feet and is surprised to find that Lexa is far steadier on them than anticipated. She takes her hand again and leads them until they stand just outside of the bath room, where someone has already seen fit to draw a bath.

"It's been a few days." Clarke says. "Figured we could both use a bath."

With that statement, Lexa's eyes fall to Clarke's outfit and she realizes for the first time that she doesn't seem to have changed since Ascension Day. An immediate understanding of the implication follows: Clarke had forgotten to care for herself as Lexa slept for the last three days. It leaves a bittersweet feeling in her chest. She worries for Clarke's well-being, yet is touched that someone cares for her so unconditionally as to neglect basic needs.

The two undress each other slowly, tenderly. It's an action that contrasts with the last time they were in this position when the clothes were removed hurriedly in their desperate need to be closer before being parted for an indeterminate period of time. Not for the first time, Lexa admires the fresh ink of the tattoo on Clarke's right shoulder blade as she removes her shirt. It is the knot of the Skaikru together with her symbol…she knows that it is meant to represent Wanheda.

Clarke in turn traces her hands down Lexa's body as her eyes follow. The firm muscles built by years of a warrior's life tremor under her touch and she leaves a trail of fire in her wake. Nothing less should be expected from a woman of her reputation, Lexa silently muses as Clarke's hands stop at the bandaging. She studies the area intently with eyes and fingers and worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a brief moment.

She was lucky. They were lucky.

With clothes shed, the pair situate themselves in the tub. While nothing in Polis has running water; the structure and size of the tub is still far more luxurious than the tub in the guest quarters where Clarke resides. It is, perhaps, the only thing she has seen in all of the clan territory that resembles marble and she wonders if it was made specifically for Heda.

She sits with her back against the edge of the tub and the weight of Lexa against her chest. Both of them keep their eyes closed in the blissful peace of the moment; savoring what little they have left of this time away from obligation. In here there is no Heda or Wanheda. There is only Clarke and Lexa.

There are a thousand thoughts about the coming war brewing in Lexa's head in that solitude, but she keeps them silent…refuses to let duty cast a cloud over this moment. She kneeled before Clarke and pledged fealty to the people of Skaikru, but she could feel the day fast approaching which would force her to choose between that vow and the rest of her people. If not…

Lexa feels Clarke's chin come to rest on her shoulder and a hand begins idly tracing the pattern of the tattoo on her arm. It's as if she instinctively knows the path that the Commander's thoughts have taken. She says nothing, waiting patiently for Lexa to speak her mind.

There's a deep sigh and then: "What will you do, Clarke? How will you save your people?"

This is new for her and the weight of the questions leaves her surprised. These are not mere questions. Lexa asks for reassurance; for solace, even. Clarke has never seen her appear anything less than confident and assured. She wishes she could offer what her Heda asks, but:

"Well, I'm hoping the time you've given them will be enough for them to save themselves."

"And if it's not?" Lexa questions, meeting her gaze pointedly. "I will honor my vow to you for as long as you demand, Clarke, but I'm afraid the rest of my people will not endure more bloodshed at the hands of Skaikru. You witnessed the assassination attempt on Ascension Day."

Clarke listens, allows Lexa to fret for just this little while. And she gets it; she does. She aims to save her people, and yet they seem bent on their own destruction at every turn. She knows that she can't give up on them yet, however. Destroying Skaikru will do nothing to end the cycle of violence among the clans. If there is a way to be found to resolve this peacefully, Clarke swears that she will find it.

Mulling over Lexa's concern, there is one thing that stands out in her mind.

"Our people?"

"I did vow to treat your people as my own." Lexa reminds Clarke, looking down at where there hands knotted together in front of her.

"But Pike rejected the brand."

Lexa burrows further into the body behind her in response. "That does not mean that I have, Clarke." She takes Clarke's hand and holds it to her chest. "The people of Skaikru have so much potential; I have seen this. Yet, it is squandered on their petty quarrels."At this, she turns her head and holds Clarke's gaze, having grown weary of talking politics. "Now, can we be done with this subject? I much prefer to leave duty outside of this room."

"So what do you want then?" Clarke asks and her voice is low and captivated in a way that speaks of the depth of what she feels in that moment. Lexa gives no reply, simply closing the space between them and taking the other woman's lips with her own in a kiss that grows deeper with need and emotion in each passing second.

The time comes all too soon that the water runs cold and the pair reluctantly leaves the solitude of the bath. They both instinctively know that this is it; the last moment of calm that either of them will have for the coming days. They dress slowly, dwelling in this quiet before they must return to duty. Clarke takes this moment to return attention to Lexa's dressing. Gently, she peels the bandage away to reveal the stitched up wound underneath. It looks good; better than it should considering how little time has passed, although Clarke has no doubt it will still cause the Commander pain for the near future. Satisfied with the progression of the healing process, Clarke applies fresh bandages to the wound.

Almost as soon as Lexa pulls her shirt over her head and both women are dressed, there comes a knock at the door.

"Enter." Lexa calls.

The door opens to reveal Titus and Clarke is all at once surprised and expectant. He was avoidant during her sleep, only coming to sit with Lexa once when Abby insisted on forcing Clarke to eat. Even now he lacks the easy confidence that he usually held in the presence of his Heda and his shoulders are slumped slightly.

"Forgive the intrusion, Heda." He says, clearing his throat. She waves him off and he continues with what he'd come to say. "The blockade has been in place for three days, now. I halted the kill order in the interim in case the worst happened after…" His voice trails and his eyes fall to the floor before he recovers, clearing his throat again. "At any rate, the blockade is ready to commence the kill order on your command."

"Thank you, Titus. Is that all?" She is all business, dutifully ignoring the elephant in the room for the time being; the twinge she feels in her gut makes this task marginally more difficult.

Titus shakes his head at her question. "You should know, the Skaikru girl called Octavia has been using the delay to sneak between Arkadia and Polis with news." He is speaking; giving her information, but the words come out as if his mind is not present. He lacks his usual keen sense of focus. He turns to Clarke with subtle pleading in his eyes. He cannot bear to be this close to Heda so soon. He is not worthy of her presence.

"In fact, Wanheda, I believe she waits in your quarters with your mother. Would you give us a moment?"

Clarke nods silently, moving past Titus. She only stops to briefly lock eyes with him on the way out the door and a look of understanding passes between them. She knows why he did what he did and this experience will no doubt deter him from acting so rashly in the future.

Whether or not Lexa is so understanding is a very different matter.

A moment later the door clicks shut and an uneasy Flamekeeper is left standing alone with his Heda. Heda, who waits patiently for him to speak even as she still recovers from his poorly aimed bullet. The moments stretch between them like a deep chasm until Titus can no longer bear the tention.

"Heda, I—" A thousand apologies threaten to burst from his lips the moment his mouth opens, yet that is not what he came to do. He also knows that none of them would ever be enough for what he's done. Spirits forgive me, he thinks to himself. A heavy sigh leaves his lungs and his eyes drop shut against the wait of his guilt.

All the while Lexa remains passive only three feet in front of him. She allows him this moment to collect himself.

"Is it true? You visited the Sonchakapa?"

"It is."

The question makes her curious. She has visited the city many times through meditation and Titus knows that. It makes her wonder what exactly his interest is.

"So you know then?"

"About the Sky People who visit? The corruption it brings them? Yes." Lexa wonders how Titus came by this information for himself, and in some part of her mind, she has the pieces to put together to draw that conclusion, but she opts to wait instead. There are other questions to be asked.

"But how?"

She watches as the Flamekeeper reaches into his robes and produces a tiny rhomboid object. She takes it from him, observing it intently under keen eyes. It's foreign, not of anything made by the clans…not even Skaikru. And yet, it bears the Sacred Symbol. She assumes it to be some sort of technology that has made its way into Skaikru hands through an unknown series of events. But how did Titus come to be in possession? Her mind flashes back rapidly to the sound of gunshots, Clarke on the floor in her disheveled quarters, and a fresh bullet wound. She'd paid no mind at the time, but there is a vague picture in her head of some faceless boy, held captive in the corner as she bleeds. She had fleetingly imagined him to be a figment of her imagination in what should've been her final moments, but now she is not so sure.

"Titus…" He cringes at the tone in her voice. There is no malice, no anger, but it carries a foreboding quality that warns him of her wrath should he misspeak. "We both know that there are no guns in Polis, and yet, you shot me." She ignores the wince that her words incur. "Is it a reasonable assumption to assume that you acquired this object and the weapon from the same person?"

"Sha, Heda."

She stares him down, her eyes piercing through him as if she's trying to look into his very soul. He shifts uncomfortably under the intensity of the gaze.

"And was that person, at any point, tied up in Clarke's quarters?"

"Heda, I—"

"Shof op!" She snaps sharply, her brewing anger briefly breaks through her calm façade before she forces it back down. "You will answer the question."

"Yes." Titus sighs, hanging his head. "Yes, he was."

Lexa's arms fold across her chest and she considers this information. Putting all of the pieces into place and the conclusion makes what could've happened that evening so much more terrible.

"You attempted to frame Skaikru for Clarke's murder?!" She barks, and he cringes under the onslaught. He knows he has it coming. He will understand if she chooses to end his life. And in that moment, she wants to. Oh, does she want to…but she's also aware that there are a number of reasons why that is a bad idea.

"I was trying to protect you." He states simply. It is not justification or even a rationale for his actions…just a simple truth. Given the way everything happened, it is a truth that sounds absurd to hear voiced out loud.

Lexa thinks about the brewing dissent among her people, the assassination attempt earlier that morning, and while she disapproves of his actions, she does understand. She'd be far more furious if the worst had happened to Clarke.

"I know."

Titus looks up at her in surprise. He had not expected to garner her understanding on this subject.

"I know you mean well, Titus, and I know that you feel shame." Her soft tone hardens a bit in a way that demands his attention at her next word. "But understand this: I would gladly take any bullet you shoot at Clarke for myself."

He opens his mouth to argue and she raises a hand to silence him. She is not finished yet. "I meant what I said. I am more than capable of separating my feelings from my duty. It may not always seem that way to you, but you need to trust that."

"She's going to be the death of you." He warns, having grown comfortable in Lexa's deceptively soft demeanor, but at once, it shatters and she fixes him with a cold stare. "Then so be it. If I die, I die for peace."

She's pacing around him now and he feels much like the prey being circled by the predator. "I promised Clarke my protection in these walls and I will not have you threatening her safety." The authority she projects in her voice and her posture demands obedience and silences any argument he may have had. "I will not have Clarke in danger inside this tower—inside this city."

She could do little to offer Clarke protection in the lands around Arkadia, but she'd be damned if harm came to her here, where the power of Heda is strongest. Lexa stops her pacing and comes to stand directly in front of Titus with her arms folded behind her back. Her eyes cut through him like lasers through the darkness.

"Yu nou trana bash op Klark nodotaim nowe. Swega em klin."

Titus nods furiously in response, he knows he's lucky to have come out of this with a simple warning and that he won't be so lucky again.

"I swear it, Heda."

She offers him a solemn nod in return, sensing that they may have finally reached something of an agreement on this long debated issue.

"Good. You may go." He bows to her and turns to take his leave, but she calls him back just as he reaches the door.

"Be warned: I will not tolerate this treachery from you a second time."

That's three. I didn't really get to the action part, but it's coming!

The last line of Trigedasleng is taken directly from Lexa's final command to Titus in 3x07. If you've watched that scene, you know what it means, if not: "You will never again attempt to harm Clarke. Swear it."

Sonchageda-City of Light