A/N: Still Clarke's POV as she settles in Polis. Enjoy!
Chapter 9: Of stories and children
Tired from the day of riding and the discussions, Clarke decided against exploring the tower before going to sleep. She was curious to see how such a tall building had survived both the bombs and time, but she was simply too exhausted to do so right now.
She looked around her rooms, now noticing a few details that made sense with their being intended for a healer. There was a small alcove lined with shelves with empty bocals and bowls – most likely to store and mix medicines – as well as a chest filled with bandages and surprisingly sharp basic surgery tools. The walls holding the windows were made of concrete, but seemed to have been strengthened with wood and some sort of mortar. And the glass of the windows was simply absent – probably blown by the bombs decades ago. Meaning that the room was definetely well aired. Probably too well for Clarke's taste, in fact.
Leaning through the opening, she noticed wooden panels that were clearly meant to close the hole and she sighed in relief.
The rest of the rooms consisted of a space with a wooden tub, the bed, and a small work-space next to the alcove. She noticed that some thin plaster walls had been torn down, and replaced with thick, wooden ones to rearrange the original layout of the building. She wondered if some levels had remained mostly unchanged – she was curious of what the building was in the old world.
It took Clarke some long minutes to figure out how the panels closing the windows worked. If she was sleeping inside concrete and wooden walls, it was not to feel the wind on her face all night. She finally located a small rope tied to the side that allowed her to pull the panels without leaning dangerously out of the frame. The fall was quite high, and though she could probably survive it, it would be a painful experience and certainly not how she envisioned her evening.
And she would have to climb stairs the whole way back to her room, because the warriors had warned her that the elevator was not running after dark, except for emergencies.
Once she secured the panels, she felt the temperature of the room rise quickly. It was still chilly, but no longer cold, and she now had enough experience with furs to know that she would not be freezing as she slept.
Moreover, this agreement with Lexa, and the fates of Raven and Murphy, meant that she no longer felt guilty of accepting the Commander's hospitality. She would not be basking in luxury for nothing, she would work on significant tasks while attempting to save her people.
Because, she begrudgingly admitted, Lexa was right: she should focus on the Ark first, though she would not abandon those taken by the Mountain either. She admitted that she could not rush there as she wanted to, but with Raven's and – hopefully soon – the Ark's help, it should be possible to save them. She just had to pray that they would remain alive until then. But if the Mountain wanted corpses, they would have taken Raven as well, so there was hope.
There had to be.
She rummaged the chests that had been brought in when Lexa left for the night, and that contained clothes for her. She eventually found something that resembled a nightgown. She stripped off her dirty clothes, throwing them in a corner of the room, and pulled the nightgown over her head.
She walked to the bed and settled between the furs with a sigh of contentment. She was still worried about the others, but having a clear plan eased her mind. She no longer had to worry about her, or Raven's and Murphy's survival and comfort, and she could still try to save her people. She had Lexa's support, and she was happy that the friendship she had started to develop with the brunette could continue.
A small draft caught her uncovered foot, and Clarke buried herself further under the furs in a fetal position. She was comfortably warm and soon fell asleep.
She was awaken by the sunlight seeping through the one window that was not covered by a wooden panel, but was sealed with thick tarnished glass. Groggily, she pushed down the furs and shuddered at the unexpected coolness of the room.
She was unsure of when people usually rose in this Tower, so she quietly dressed in some of the clothes she found in the chest – secretly delighted to wear clean clothes for the day – and settled at the desk where she had abandoned her bag. She quickly sorted her belongings, leaving the furs in the bag that she suspended on a corner of the bed frame, putting away her healing herbs on the shelves, and delicately putting her old wristband on the side of the desk. It would serve as a reminder of her purpose – unless Raven needed it, of course.
That done, she listened carefully to the noises of the floor, even going as far as to put her ear against the doors. Nothing. Shrugging, she decided that she must have risen early and carried some blank sheets of paper to the desk to get started of those plant drawings she had promised Asbrem. The paper was a bit coarse, compared to the Ark's plastic sheets, but she quickly got used to it and even enjoyed the feel of the natural material.
It was liberating, to be drawing again. She had doodled some animals in that first village, and charcoaled a few more in a couple of caves, but it had been a while since she had been able to just draw. Soon, she put aside the plants drawings and let her hands sketch whatever they wanted.
An hour later, an insistent knock on the door pulled her from her trance.
''Come in!'' She called absently, soothing the lines of the clouds in her sketch of Polis.
She was drawing the city as she had first seen it, nestled in the plains and framed by orchards. She only regretted the lack of colors, since she only had pens that were apparently made of charcoal mixed with some other ingredients that resulted in something similar to a pencil from the old world.
''Your guards informed me that you were awake.''
Clarke put her pen down and turned in her chair.
''Lexa. Good morning.''
The brunette was studying the drawings of plants that she had set aside.
''You work fast.'' She commented. ''I will escort Raven in the basements after breakfast, and wondered if you would accompany us. I could use your input, you know more about those broken devices than I. Then I was hoping we could go to the families of the burned village. I will show you the library this afternoon.''
Clarke stood and brushed her hands together to rid them of the dark powder.
''Sounds great to me. Is that to be my schedule, then? Healing and Commander stuff in the morning, book sorting in the afternoon?'' She asked.
''Most likely, if it suits you. I might call on you for lessons in the afternoon from time to time, and you may search for a way to contact your people in the mornings as well. You need not take all the work away from my healers.'' She replied.
Clarke smiled as she followed the Commander out of the room. ''I was thinking that I should keep my… talents for injuries or illnesses that are beyond your healers medicine, like I did in the village. But I would not mind giving them a hand when they are overworked.'' She offered.
They worked out the details of such a schedule as they ate, and Clarke unsuccessfully argued against having guards following her whenever she left the Tower.
''I know you are resilient, Klark, but I will not take the risk. And people need to know that you are protected by Heda.'' Lexa had stated in a tone that brook no further argument, and Clarke had given up with a sigh.
Soon, they picked up Raven – who had apparently talked to Murphy about the previous night and hugged Clarke as soon as she saw her, thanking her for healing her back – and hurried to the basements with a few warriors carrying torches.
Clarke could not help but laugh at Raven's excitement when she saw all the old machines. The Latina was running from one device to the next with squeals of delight alternated by admonitions at a dumb-founded Commander for not taking proper care of such 'wonderful babies'.
Eventually, the Commander settled on asking Raven to fix and upgrade a few radios, repair an ultrasound machine – at Clarke's insistent begging – and Lexa expressed an interest in an old printer when Raven proposed to convert it in a copy machine, to make accurate and quick copies of anything. They carefully marked which devices would need to be brought up, and Raven walked in front of the group with a spring in her step, cradling and cooing to two broken radios as if they were infants.
Clarke had to suppress her grin at how disturbed Lexa seemed by the whole scene. She supposed such love of an object appeared extremely weird to Heda – and Raven was quite extreme.
Raven was escorted back to her rooms by two guards while the rest escorted Clarke and their Commander to another part of the city. Unfortunately, this made them very visible, and a crowd was soon hovering around them, shouts of greetings to Heda always interrupting whatever conversation they tried to have.
It was Lexa who explained, in a formal but somehow compassionate Trigedasleng, what had been agreed upon to the families. Clarke could only catch a few disconnected words, and promised herself to learn more of the language – she was obviously going to be in the Commander's capitol for a while.
The families appeared satisfied by the arrangement, and the healing was not overly tiring for Clarke. In fact, she was mostly made uncomfortable by the ever watching crowd. Even in the village, she had only had the patient's family as spectators – and Lexa, of course. Here, though, she felt excessively on display but a glance at the houses – with doors and large windows wide open despite the coolness of the air – informed her that there would be no privacy, even inside.
She felt ravenous by the time they returned to the Tower and settled down for lunch, and glared at the brunette when she chuckled at the way she was inhaling her food.
''You do not have to work with the books if you feel too tired. I will understand.'' She offered seriously when the meal was over.
''I will be fine. Reading relaxes me anyway.''
Lexa shook her head, disbelief clear on her face. ''This way, then.''
It really only deserved the appellation of library because of the sheer number of books the room contained. There were a few shelves, but most were empty. Instead, the books were piled up on tables and on the floor, or thrown haphazardly in wooden crates. Clarke's jaw dropped at the sight.
''Ever heard of organization?'' She asked in a weak voice.
Lexa laughed softly. ''I thought that was why you were here?'' She paused and continued more seriously. ''I know it is a mess. The books on the shelves are those already sorted by previous Fleimkeepas or Hedas, so you need not worry about those. The criterias of sorting are simple: anything that can be useful is put on the shelves on the right side of the room, the rest on the left. Imaginary stories on the bottom, and manuals or similar books are on the top shelves. I would like to hear of what you have found once a week, or more often if you are unsure of the value of a particular book.''
Clarke looked around the room again. ''Do I have to stay in this room to read? I mean, I can sort quickly all the books I have already read on the Ark, but there are no chairs here, and I don't like to read while standing.''
''No, I don't expect you to spend your afternoons locked up in here. Just take a few books to your room or wherever you want to read.'' Lexa reassured her.
Clarke nodded. ''Good. Task seems less daunting that way. I guess I should get started, then. If I don't return to my room by nightfall, please send a guard to make sure I am not buried somewhere under a toppled pile of dusty books?'' She half-joked as she started reading the titles of the books from the nearest pile.
She heard Lexa leave the room, and after some hesitation, decided to pre-sort all the books by categories – novels, manuals, encyclopedias and so on. It would give her the opportunity to browse through everything and isolate books she already knew.
And she hoped to find a copy of the Lord of the Rings for the Commander.
With a grin, she started emptying a crate.
A few hours later, she had barely gone through half of the crates and had not yet touched the books piled on the floor or the tables. Still, she was satisfied to see the shelves filling up. Since the sun was slowly setting, she decided that she was done for the day, and grabbed the four books she had set aside on her way out. She had stumbled upon a crate filled with novels – she suspected that a full rack of fantasy and sci-fi books had been directly emptied in the box and brought here – and had found an old, illustrated edition of the trilogy along with a copy of The Hobbit.
That would keep Lexa busy for a while, and give her time to make a list of other interesting books.
She returned to her room, enjoyed a bath – the books were really dusty, and she felt even more dirty than after a full day on the road – and put on a comfortable nightgown. Then, she settled back at her desk to continue her drawings, forcing herself to work on the plants for a while before returning to her more recreational ones.
By the time a shy girl knocked on her door to ask if she wanted to have her food brought up to her room – to which she acquiesced – she had finished her drawing of Polis and was working on one of Lexa staring at the night sky by a camp fire. She decided to take a break while she waited for the food.
Her gaze fell on her old wristband, and she absently fingered her father's watch as she thought back to her discussion with Raven this morning.
She had finally been able to find out some of what happened after she left. Bellamy had basically been the same bully leader until Raven's arrival in a patched up pod. Unfortunately, Bellamy had been the first to arrive, and he had taken away the radio, crushed it and thrown the pieces in a nearby stream. Finn had found Raven shortly after, still unconscious. Given that he had not hesitated to kill her – well, try – Clarke was unsure whether Bellamy had spared Raven or thought her already dead when he found her unconscious with a bleeding head wound.
Regardless, Raven had joined the others at the dropship, and had been pretty miffed about her lost radio. She had told the delinquents that the council was about to kill three hundred people, and those who still had a family on the Ark helped her make two flares in hope of warning the Ark that they were still alive – Monty's last attempt to contact the Ark had fried all the wristbands a few days ago.
Unfortunately, the shooting stars that night proved that no one saw their flares, or that it was dismissed as insufficient, or simply too late. Raven had tried to build a radio, but too many parts were missing, lost during re-entry. She also strongly disliked Bellamy and had openly opposed him, blaming him for the three hundred deads.
When Octavia went missing, Finn had accompanied Bellamy and returned with a dagger in the chest. They had tried to save him, but he bled to death minutes after they had pulled out the knife. Bellamy tortured the grounder that had captured Octavia and killed Finn – which was the only time Raven had agreed with the annoying bully. A few days later, Octavia had used the opportunity of everyone being high on some nuts to break the grounder out. She had disappeared with him.
Bellamy had gone crazy when he discovered his sister had left, convinced the grounder had captured her again when he escaped – though Raven saw them leaving the camp with Octavia supporting the grounder's weight, so obviously she had gone away willingly. When Raven disagreed with sending another search party – she didn't want anyone else to die like Finn – he had threatened her with his gun, and eventually shot her when she literally turned her back on him.
Then cans releasing a red smoke popped in the camp, and Raven only remembered crawling to the dropship and being found by Anya and other grounders. The rest of her trip to Polis were vague images of Murphy, trees and other faces until she woke up in Clarke's room.
Before she ran to her room with her new 'babies', Lexa had agreed that the mechanic could start with the radios and attempt to contact the Ark. So there was nothing more Clarke could do for that at this point.
Her food arrived, and Clarke took her time to savor it, since her afternoon had been a lot less draining than the healing of this morning. She enjoyed the variety of flavors and textures, noting that even the meats did not all have the same taste. She would have to ask the names of all that.
Once she was done, she exited her room to inquire where she was supposed to bring the dishes. At a sign from one of the warriors guarding her rooms – she pitied them, really, their job had to be the most boring one in the whole city – a girl immediately ran up to her, bowed and took the plates from her before she could say anything.
With a shake of her head, she asked if she could see Heda, to report on her progress. A warrior nodded and marched down the hall to present her request to the Commander.
He soon returned and bowed to her as he informed her.
''Heda is with the Natblidas for the rest of the evening. She will hear your report tomorrow morning, Nymph.''
Clarke nodded and returned to her room, ignoring the pang of disappointment at fact that she would not see Lexa tonight. Of course the Commander had many duties. Why did she care if she would not see Lexa before going to sleep? She had no reason to expect to.
And she really shouldn't want to. Right?
The Commander was kind, even if she wore a stoic mask and had proven herself to be a ruthless leader. She was fair, and open-minded. Certainly not what Clarke would have imagined with the harsh way of life she had witnessed on the ground, or what she had grown to expect from Jaha and most of the Council.
And, lastly, she was not an enemy. She had feared that Lexa's orders and her former companions' stupidity would end with both of them in opposing camp – there was no way Clarke would betray her mother and father, and that meant protecting the Ark. But now, those fears had been put to rest. She could stop seeing Lexa as a potential enemy.
She returned to her desk and her drawing of Lexa, tracing the curve of the woman's jaw with a finger. Her face was an odd mix of serious and relax, staring at the stars. Again, Clarke wished she had colors to capture the scene better – the green of her eyes, the red light of the fire reflected on her tan skin…
She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Lexa had closed herself after the loss of her lover. She was probably not ready for a relationship, even if there actually was some attraction. And Clarke would probably leave once the Ark came down. Not to mention the possible complications of a relationship between a sort-of ambassador and the Commander.
Really, it would be better if this was just a strong friendship with a ridiculously attractive Heda.
Frustrated, Clarke decided to just go to bed – it was a bit early but she had four Tolkien books. She closed the panels and prepared everything so that she was sitting against the head of the bed, with a fur over her legs, and a candle on the side table for light.
After several minutes, she glared at her candle. The damn thing kept fluttering despite the shut windows, and the constant movement made shadows appear on the pages. She threw away the fur and went to check the windows, pulling on the panels to see if she had failed to secure them shut. None budged.
With a grunt, she returned to her bed and resumed her reading. Her candle fluttered again, and she let out a low growl of frustration. Abandoning the book, she took the candle and approached the windows, watching the flame to find were exactly the annoying draft was coming from. She still had a few rabbit furs that she could shove in any hole she found.
Her inspection of the windows gave nothing, so she moved to the door. Nothing either.
Now strangely excited by the mystery, she started stalking the walls of her room, slowly moving her candle up and down and knocking lightly on the wooden walls. After several minutes, she was rewarded with a hollow sound and a flattened flame. She put her candle down on a nearby stool, and ran her fingers softly along the wall, trying to find the limits of the concealed door.
Her left hand eventually caught on a knot and, after some experimenting, she pulled on it with her nails and felt the panel give way. Grinning she pushed against it and soon found herself staring at a dark, narrow corridor. The secret door was even more narrow, and Clarke was glad for her small frame that allowed her to walk in without having to shuffle sideways. She chuckled as she imagined a man like Gustus trying to pass through the tiny door.
Wondering where the passage led and why it was here in the first place, and not feeling the slightest bit tired in the face of the unexpected enigma, she pulled the tool to block the panel – just in case – and looked around for another candle-holder.
Finding none, she decided to leave the candle on the stool so that she would not get lost, and just explore a few meters tonight. She would find more candles and holders tomorrow to explore without having hot wax trickling on her fingers.
She carefully stepped in the passage and put a hand on each wall, slightly ahead of her. She advanced for a few meters until she felt her right hand leave the wall. She stopped and stirred the air a little to confirm that she had reached some crossroad. With a glance over her shoulder to check that her candle still had some wax, she decided to try her luck this way. She would turn back if she felt that she was going too far, or could no longer see the light from her room.
She had barely taken two steps along the new corridor when the floor disappeared from under her feet and she tumbled down the unexpected stairs.
She screamed and tried to catch onto something to break her fall, but the walls were smooth. She felt her chest collide harshly with the angle of a stair and grunted in pain when a couple ribs cracked. She rolled down the rest of the way and landed badly on her right arm while her head hit the wall. She swore loudly.
The wall suddenly opened on her right and she moaned in pain when she tumbled into a room, landing on her broken arm – her doctor kicking in and informing her that the bones had moved, so she would need to set them to heal faster.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and pressed her to the floor, a dagger against her neck. She froze, and raised her head to meet surprised green eyes.
''Klark? What are you doing here?'' Lexa asked, slowly releasing her and putting away her dagger.
She sat up, wheezing as her ribs tingled in healing. With a grimace, she poked and prodded her right arm with her left hand to push the bones back in proper position, gritting her teeth, before she answered.
''I found this door in my room. Felt like exploring, but didn't see the stairs. Where am I, exactly?''
She stood and looked around, finally noticing the tensed fair-haired boy and the dark-haired, slightly younger girl that observed her from behind Lexa. Both couldn't be older than twelve or eleven years old. She also noted that the children had assumed defensive fighting stances, but were currently staring at her arm.
Clarke took a deep breath, content to feel that her ribs were healed and the air flowed easily through her lungs.
''I take it these children are your Natblidas? Why is there a secret passage from my room to here?'' She asked Lexa.
The brunette gave her a stern look. ''Do you realize how disturbing it is to see you set your own arm while talking?''
''Er, sorry. Between that and the ribs, I felt a little uncomfortable.'' Clarke blushed. She hoped she had not traumatized the children. She had not meant to.
Lexa shook her head exasperatedly. ''I planned to introduce you tomorrow.''
She turned towards the two children who had relaxed in more normal positions. ''Klark, may I introduce Aden and Strina. They are the oldest of my Nightbloods. This is their room. The younger ones are all in the room next door. This whole floor is reserved to the Natblidas.''
Clarke smiled apologetically. ''Sorry to intrude.''
Lexa addressed the children. ''Klark is the Healing Nymph. She is the one who will heal you if you are injured in training – or for any other reason – and she will also give you a few lessons soon. She has knowledge from the old world that could be useful for a Heda to know.''
They both nodded at her and Aden added. ''I want to thank you, Healing Nymph, for saving Heda Leksa. I am happy the Spirit sent you.''
Clarke grimaced at the title.''Please, if I am gonna give you lessons, just call me Clarke. I have never been one for pompous ceremony. I am just a healer.''
She turned to Lexa. ''So, what is that secret stairway again?'' She asked expectantly.
She watched as the brunette sighed and mumbled. ''I had actually forgotten about that.'' Louder, she continued. ''I told you your rooms were designed for Heda's personal healer. At first, Polis was not a safe city, and assassination attempts were plentiful. The First Commander had few warriors and advisors she could trust. So, this passage was built to ensure that the healer would always be able to reach the Natblidas or Heda if need be, even if the corridors were invaded by enemies. Also, it ensures that we all have a discreet way out if either floor is occupied by enemies.''
The Commander's brow furrowed as she seemed to consider something. ''That is only your second night here. How did you find the door?'' She mused, impressed.
Clarke shrugged. ''I was reading the books I intended to give you tomorrow, and a draft kept messing with my candle. So I investigated.'' She said simply.
''You must not reveal it to anyone – not even your friends or any of my ambassadors or advisors. Even Fleimkeepas are not told of this passage.'' Lexa warned her.
''I won't.'' Clarke promised. ''I guess I should close the panel in my room, in case someone comes in.'' She realized.
Lexa smiled. ''No one is allowed to enter your room without your authorization.''
Clarke gave her a disbelieving look. ''You did last night.''
''I am Heda.'' She stated smugly.
''Right.'' She said, rolling her eyes. ''So, evening lessons?'' She asked enthusiastically, turning to smile at the two children. ''How is it going?''
Lexa shook her head and affectionately ruffled Aden's hair while smiling at the girl. ''No lessons this time. I haven't had time to visit them yesterday, so I did tonight. The younger ones are already in bed and asleep – I hope – and I was simply telling Aden and Strina about my trip to the border. And about the Nymph I met on the way back to Polis.''
Lexa went to sit on one of the bed, and the children sat side by side on the other one. Strina turned to Clarke and asked.
''You said you were reading?'' She sounded surprised. Clarke guessed that Lexa had not yet explained all her 'duties' to the Nightbloods – she had interrupted them with her impromptu entry.
''Heda asked me to sort the books from the library. My people could not run or train to pass the time because the place where we lived was too tiny for that. So we spent a lot of time reading, or playing chess and other board games.'' She explained as she went to sit besides Lexa.
''Chess?'' Aden asked, confused.
She supposed it would make sense for most board games to have disappeared if so few people could read.
''It is a strategy game. I think you would like it actually. If I can find a flat piece of wood and carve some pawns, I will teach you. If you want, that is. The rules are very simple, it is all about figuring out the opponent's strategy and countering him. There used to be tournaments in the old world, and we had some in the Ark as well.'' She related, smiling softly at the memory of all the matches she had had with Wells.
It would be nice to play again. She felt like she owed it to him to ensure his favorite game survived the apocalypse.
''It sounds like a good exercise.'' Lexa admitted. ''I will ask for wood to be brought to you. Just give me the sizes of the pieces of wood you will need. It might be a good first lesson for the Nightbloods.''
The children seemed more at ease in her presence than when she had first arrived. Aden smiled at her and asked what she had been reading.
Clarke grinned. ''The first volume of the Lord of the Rings. I have been telling your Heda about it, actually.''
Lexa stared at her. ''Is that where all your quotes come from?''
''Basically. Thought you would be interested in reading it.''
The other woman nodded hesitantly. ''I would, but… you said first volume? How many are there?''
Clarke smirked. ''Three. But that is only the main story. There are a few more books about how the world works, what all the characters went through, and so on.'' She paused. ''Actually, there is one book that is more intended as a bedside story.''
''A bedside story?'' Strina frowned, confused by the expression.
''In the old world, it was a tradition to read a story to children until they fell asleep.'' She explained. ''This story is a tale, of sort. With epic battles and a lesson about duty and peace.'' She added with a grin, knowing this would peek their interest. The kids were openly admiring their Heda.
Timidly and glancing at Lexa in case she objected, Aden asked. ''Will you read it to us, then?''
She look at Lexa to ensure the woman agreed – the kids were her responsibility, after all – and smiled when she saw her nod, clearly as eager as the kids to hear the story.
''Well, if you lend me a candle, I can run to my room and be back with the book in a minute. I don't fancy breaking my ribs again on the way back.'' She joked. ''But if we do this, we do it properly.'' She warned. ''So, you kids get in bed, and Heda and I will sit in the chairs, by the beds.''
The children jumped from the bed while Lexa dragged the chairs closer, and Clarke made her way to the still open passage after grabbing a candle. She quickly made her way back to her room, located the book and returned to the Nightbloods' bedroom after closing the panel to her own room – just in case.
She settled herself in a chair between the two beds, with Lexa sitting by her side and slightly behind her. She suspected the brunette to want to try and read over her shoulder.
''The title of the book is: The Hobbit, or there and back again.'' She stated before she opened the book and started reading aloud under the delighted and shining eyes of the two children. Her heart panged at the idea that they had never experienced a moment like this before, so she made sure to mimic the voices for the dialogues and show them the images whenever there were some. She also promised herself to have a catch-up sessions with the younger kids, and then continue reading to them every night if Lexa allowed it – and annoy the hell out of her until she relented in case she refused.
Strina was the first to fall asleep, but Aden's eyes were already drowsy. Clarke lowered her voice to a whisper and slowed her reading until the boy gave in and fell asleep. Then, Lexa and her rose slowly and silently made their way to the secret stairs.
Clarke waited until the panel was closed and they had climbed half the stairs to ask. ''Aren't you supposed to leave through the usual corridor? The guards will know something is up if you never leave the Nightbloods quarters.'' She pointed out.
Lexa shook her head. ''I already left. I came back through this corridor. Titus disapproves of Hedas spending so much… personal time with the Natblidas, but it is a tradition. When I was a child, the previous Heda would often visit us before we went to sleep.'' She said with a fond smile.
''Does that mean I can continue reading the story to them? And to the younger kids, too?''
''I am sure they would enjoy it if you did. It is impressive how easily you can read the story.'' She commented.
''Like I said, there wasn't much else to do but read on the Ark.'' Clarke stated modestly.
''So, it is merely a matter of practice?'' Lexa prodded almost nervously.
''Yeah. Honestly, the three books I want to give you first are not the easiest ones. And there are parts that are… well, boring. You can skip those parts to focus on the story. And I will explain any word you don't understand – some were already old-fashioned before the bombs.'' She reassured the woman.
''Thank you.''
''That aside, can you show me how to open the doors from the inside? I don't want to be stuck in this corridor all night.'' Clarke asked meekly.
Lexa followed her to her room and pointed to the mechanism, showing her where to push to disengage the panel and open it. ''The mechanism is the same for all the doors. The stairs leads to the Nightbloods floor – as you found out – and if you just walk straight you will find my personal rooms. Some of the children sometimes come to me in the middle of the night, after a nightmare. They might come to you as well, once they grow comfortable with you. I can tell them not to.''
Clarke shook her head. ''Don't. I know it is your ways, but I find it disturbing to see young children training for battle. I won't deprive them of what little childhood they have left.'' She stated.
''Aden and Strina loved what you did tonight.''
''I liked doing it.'' She replied.
She invited Lexa into her room with a wave and grabbed the book that was still lying on her bed where she had abandoned it to investigate the annoying draft. She stared at it for a while.
''Actually, if you are not too tired, there is another story I would like to share with you.'' She stated.
The brunette glanced at the thick volumes and then back at her. ''Don't you think you have already given me enough reading for now?'' She asked uncertainly.
Clarke sat on her bed and took a deep breath. ''It's not a book. It's how I came to be on the ground.''