Lexa lay on her back, her mind not quite ready to focus on anything too serious. Clarke's fingers slowly scratched along the side of body, the motion perhaps a little too close to that of an owner petting a beloved animal. And yet, Lexa seemed not to mind. Perhaps it was due to the afterglow of recent events she felt, perhaps because she had simply come to realise Clarke wasn't quite a normal person, whose actions were a little harder to piece together.

Clarke seemed happy to let the silence linger between them, and Lexa didn't mind for it gave her time to really take in just what had happened between them. Surely things would have to change, surely things were going to change. How could they not? She didn't even know if Clarke would keep this quiet, secret, only for them to share, or if she would announce it to the world in some form, perhaps as a way to claim possession over her, or maybe to simply let the world know that their people were now more intertwined than they had been moments ago.

Every now and then Lexa felt a slight tenderness in her side as Clarke's fingers brushed against a bruising bite she had left behind. Even that, Lexa found, had surprised her. She had never really been into pain, into biting. And yet Clarke had seemed to draw something out of her that had been foreign, perhaps primal, maybe a little embarrassing. But Lexa wouldn't think too much. At least the marks could be hidden from view.

And so she rolled onto her side, tucked her hands under her head and she found herself facing Clarke, the woman's eyes half lidded and somewhere between sleep and awake.

Clarke's hand remained trapped under her body but she thought the woman uncaring of its predicament for she simply let it be as the corner of her lip twitched up just enough that Lexa wondered what Clarke was thinking in that moment.

But still, Lexa found herself unwilling to break the silence until she must. Despite everything they had shared, from the first tumultuous meeting when Lexa and had bound and brought to her knees before her, to the bath they had shared, to the kiss, the threatening playfulness and the rather unwanted and quite undiscussed stabbing or killing, Lexa didn't think she had ever seen Clarke to peaceful, so at ease.

She took the time to look at the scar that etched itself into Clarke's chest, and she wondered just how deep, just how violent it must have been to remain so clearly visible upon her alabaster skin. Lexa even tried to find a sign of the wound Clarke had forced her to inflict, the one that had made her want to scream out, and yet she couldn't see a single trace that she had ever been wounded by her hand.

There were other scars, too, ones that were just as prominent upon Clarke's body, long lines that must have been etched into her flesh so deeply, so violently that Lexa didn't really want to think about how much suffering Clarke must have experienced in her life.

One scar in particular that ran the length of Clarke's forearm called out to her, maybe because it was simply exposed, Clarke's limb trapped between them. But Lexa found herself reaching out tentatively, her fingers ever so slowly beginning to trace the length of the wound. Its edges were raised, prominent enough that she wondered if the scarred tissue ever caused Clarke annoyance. Or if it had simply long since been accepted and pushed back into the depths of her mind. Another scar, just as similar was cut into her upper arm, perhaps a long since healed attempt to remove the limb from Clarke's body, Lexa didn't know.

But as Lexa continued to study the woman, as she continued to follow the curve of muscle, scarred flesh, imperfections only noticeable should someone look close enough, Lexa found herself thinking their lives— their bodies— so different. Of course Lexa understood Clarke was in some way more than human. And now, in that moment, she found the paleness of her skin almost translucent in the shimmering candlelight.

Where Lexa's body was thin, slimmer than what was probably considered healthy given the lack of nutrients on the Ark, Clarke's was strong, firm, curved, adorned with scars and a paleness that seemed so very ethereal. And again, maybe it was the afterglow, the emotions that had been set free, the chemicals in her brain that had been unleashed, but Lexa once more found herself thinking Clarke a statue of old, something more roman beauty than grotesque gargoyle sat atop a church steeple.

"That tickles," Clarke's voice was quiet and Lexa's eyes snapped up to find the woman staring at her.

"Sorry," Lexa said quietly as she pulled her hand away from Clarke's ribs, the slow patterns she had been brushing against her skin unconscious and haphazardly lazy.

There was a pause as both women looked at each other. Lexa didn't know if she wanted to be the one to break the silence, she didn't know if she even knew what to say. It didn't help that Clarke had seemingly woken enough that the usual hidden mirth, the usual subtle toying, calculating glint in her eyes had returned.

"What now?" Lexa said eventually.

"What now?" Clarke repeated, her head quirking to the side as it disappeared into the furs just a little.

"Us," Lexa shrugged a bare shoulder as she wriggled into the warmth of the bed as a shiver ran through her body.

She thought it best to at least clarify whatever it was that they now shared. In part because she knew things were different— that had to be the case. It wasn't even that she was opposed to a casualness of sex, of simply sharing someone else's company for a night. And yet, as she continued to look at Clarke, as she continued to take in the way the woman's hair fanned out around her head, how it seemed awash in golden light, she thought herself hoping just a little that whatever had been shared wasn't so fleeting.

"Commanders do not live long," Clarke said eventually, her voice quiet, a little more thoughtful than it had been moments ago. "Most die in battle, some assassinated by an unhappy clan."

"Sounds horrible," Lexa's voice was gentle as she kept gazing upon Clarke's face.

"It is to be expected," there was no sadness in Clarke's voice, barely any emotion at all, really. "We do not often have the luxury of finding companionship that lasts longer than a night, a day, perhaps a week. If we are fortunate, a month or two."

Lexa didn't say anything as Clarke's voice trailed off in thought. She didn't really know what to say, or how to say whatever thoughts were filling her mind in that moment.

"Is that all you've ever had?" Lexa asked then, perhaps because she wanted to know. "A night? A week? Barely a month or two?" she didn't entirely know why she wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Ontari shares my bed every now and then," Clarke answered. "Perhaps out of convenience for she is always near. Perhaps because she has simply been by my side for quite some time and there is a familiarity, a trust shared between us," a simply shrug punctuated her words.

"Oh," it was such a silly thing to say, but Lexa wasn't sure she knew how else to respond.

She felt something though, something not quite fully understood, not entirely in her grasp. It only took her a moment longer to understand the emotion she felt, and at first she thought it jealously, something so very childish and not really hers to own. But the more she thought, the more she realised it wasn't really jealously, not in any tangible sense. But rather she thought it something closer to sadness, to an understood sense of loneliness she thought she could fathom as Clarke's words settled within her mind.

"You haven't tried to make things more concrete with Ontari?" Lexa asked eventually. Again, she didn't quite know why she had a right to ask the questions she did, in part because she didn't really know much of Ontari, in part because she didn't dare assume she truly knew much of Clarke.

"No," Clarke said with a single shake of her head. "No," a pause for a breath as she seemed to think. "One of us will die sooner rather than later," Clarke said. "Ontari in her duty to me or her Kwin," a shrug, "or me, in my duty to my people."

Perhaps for the very first time Lexa realised why Ontari had been so protective of Clarke, why she had been so hostile to her. Perhaps, Lexa thought, Ontari was protective of Clarke, not because she was jealous in some way, but because she knew how fleeting life was, how likely it was that Clarke would die one day to be replaced by some other nightblood. Lexa wondered if Ontari would prefer to give her own life for her Commander. She thought she knew the answer.

"That's no way to live," Lexa challenged, and for a moment she thought it so very odd that they spoke of such things while laying together bare to the world, with little space between them.

"It is the only way to live on the ground for Commanders," Clarke countered.

"That's no way of living, though," Lexa found herself moving forward ever so slightly as she lay across from Clarke, her eyes never wavering from the woman who seemed so alien in appearance, who seemed to ethereal in stature, so foreign in person.

"And you would know this, how?" Clarke said, and though her words were full of challenge and question, Lexa felt the tone more curious, intrigued by whatever things Clarke would soon hear.

Lexa took the time to think over the question. She thought Clarke deserved that much, she thought she owed herself an honest answer, too. Mainly because she had shared such intimacy with the other woman, and partly because she didn't know if she'd have another chance at whatever this interaction they were having was.

"On the Ark," Lexa said eventually. "We're partnered up with someone," and she couldn't help but frown a little bit at the memories, the thoughts and dreads and acceptances she had gone through. "There's not enough people for us to date— to court— whoever we like without risking health issues, so our partners are chosen for us," she didn't know if Clarke would understand the science behind it, if she would understand—

"We ensure our villages meet others and are given the opportunity to mingle," Clarke said. "To ensure a healthy people," she smirked as if she had guessed Lexa had assumed she knew not what she spoke of. "I understand."

Lexa blushed, perhaps bashfully, perhaps because a suggestiveness had returned to Clarke's tone just a little.

"Yeah," she said. "And because we thought we were the last of the human race everyone was required to have a child," and she tried not to shudder too much, simply because she had never really liked to imagine the act, at least not with the required party. "Everyone had to put aside whatever personal wants they had to make sure our people had a chance at surviving another day."

Clarke hummed an understanding sound but other than that seemed happy for Lexa to take the time to voice whatever she needed to voice.

"But then we decided to make a shot of exploring Earth, of coming down to the ground and seeing if we could survive," and Lexa wondered if Clarke had ever looked up into the sky, if she had ever seen the Ark and had simply assumed it one of many stars in the night's sky.

"Before that moment I had always thought I was just surviving, just doing what needed to be done. Just doing my duty," Lexa continued. "But when that opportunity came up? When my people had decided to give it a shot?" she didn't realise Clarke had somehow removed her armed that had been trapped under her and had now clasped their hands together ever so gently. "It was the first time I felt alive," and Lexa tried not to sound too dramatic, too something.

Clarke was quiet for a long while and Lexa didn't mind. It gave herself time to think about what they had both said, what they had both revealed to each other. Perhaps she hadn't quite got an answer just yet, but she thought Clarke understood enough about what was left unsaid that Lexa wouldn't run away from whatever it was they had created together.

Lexa tried to stifle a yawn then, the conversation, the thoughts that had drifted through her mind tiring her more than she had realised. Clarke seemed to find humour in her predicament for she smirked just a little at whatever thing she fancied before she pulled a fur blanket over them both, the warmth somehow immediately pulling Lexa a little closer to the sleep she had evaded for hours.

"I will have to rise soon," Clarke said as her eyes began to close. "I suggest you find what little sleep you can, Lexa of the sky people."

Lexa woke to the quiet rustling of the wind outside, to the warmth of a sunlit morning and to an odd sense of stiffness in her limbs, the aches and tensions not so unwelcome. Warm furs covered her body, the bedding she lay upon far softer than she was used to.

And then she remembered.

Lexa sat up and blinked away the sleep as she remembered where exactly she was and why exactly the bedding was softer than she was used to. Whatever curtained off section of the room she had come to last night was just as she remembered it. The only exception she could see was the absence of Clarke, who had seemingly left the bed without waking her perhaps hours ago. Lexa tried to peer through the curtain in an attempt to see if she could spot Clarke's silhouette, but no sign of her could be seen. Nor could she hear anything in the room except for the usual sounds that drifted in from outside, from Ton DC and its inhabitants as they went about their lives.

Lexa yawned, and she took the time to think, to try to figure out if she would need an explanation for her whereabouts of if people would simply understand and not care.

As Lexa swung her legs over the side of the bed she couldn't help but feel a blush colour her cheeks as she saw the marks Clarke had left upon her body, deep bruises, scratches that she knew she'd be feeling for days to come. Part of Lexa didn't quite appreciate being marked in such a way, but part of her didn't mind. Maybe it was simply different. Not bad, not good. Just different.

And so Lexa sighed as she stood, and as she did so she was perhaps a little relieved that she was alone in the room when she realised what little she had been wearing had been discarded further into the room and away from the bed. She'd rather not have to walk past and dress before what she would assume to be a fully clothed Clarke. She thought that just a little too domestic, a little too awkward for her. It didn't help that she still struggled to remember the order she needed to buckle up and tie and knot the leathers and furs she had been given.

It was with those thoughts that Lexa swept aside the curtain that hid away Clarke's bed from the rest of the room. The first thing Lexa noticed was a small plate of food laid upon Clarke's war table, the next was that it appeared as though Clarke had brought her clothes to her as they lay neatly folded next to the food. But the last thing Lexa noticed was that she wasn't alone.

Ontari sat at the opposite end of the table, her feet crossed as they lay resting against the table's edge, and a wicked knife held between her fingers as she spun it around lazily.

Lexa stopped mid strike, completely unsure of how to process the fact that Ontari must have been waiting for her for quite some time, unsure of exactly the woman wanted, and unsure of how to feel about the fact that she now stood naked in front of her with physical proof that Clarke and her had spent the night together littering her body.

"You've been here a while, haven't you," Lexa said in way of greeting, and for some reason she found herself not moving from where she stood, her naked body not quite bringing with it an embarrassment she thought it should given the circumstances.

"Yes," Ontari answered as her head tilted to the side slightly, her gaze clearly taking in Lexa's state of undress.

For some reason Lexa felt a lot more emboldened than she had the last few times she had interacted with Ontari, she felt her back straighten and she met the woman's gaze with more defiance than she thought possible given the situation.

"I don't need you to babysit me," Lexa said, and though she knew Ontari had probably been sent by Clarke to watch over her, she didn't think it out of line for her to give Ontari at least some kind of warning to back off, to give her space.

Ontari simply shrugged in response before she let her feet slide off the edge of the table, sheath her knife and stand, her movements oddly graceful as she began to walk towards her.

"I see the Commander has taken an interest," Ontari's voice was quiet, lacking the usual sneer Lexa had come to expect. And yet, she didn't know what to make of Ontari's words, the tone of her voice. She wasn't sure if the woman was hurt, jealous, angry, if she felt nothing at all in the moment.

"Is that a problem?" Lexa said, and she began to slowly turn her head in an attempt to keep herself face to face with Ontari who had begun to circle her.

"Do you wish it to be a problem?" Ontari's voice sounded out from behind her, and Lexa couldn't help but to shiver slightly as she felt the woman's breath ghost against the back of her neck.

"Not really, no," she said, and perhaps she wished she had reached for a light fur, a jacket, something to have covered herself now that her bravado seemed to have slowly vanished once confronted with whatever it was that Ontari had planned.

But then Lexa really shivered as she felt Ontari's finger slowly trail down her spine, the touch featherlight, predatory, so odd she didn't know what to say.

"I did not realise you were so thin," Ontari said quietly. "I had thought our few training sessions would have strengthened your body even a little," and Ontari's finger stopped right at the apex of Lexa's. "And yet," she tutted, the sound much more insulting than it had any right to be. "Here you are."

Lexa turned to face Ontari then, now sure the woman was toying with her, had decided on another course of action to insult, to put her on whatever back foot she could. But for why, she still didn't quite know.

"I make do," Lexa challenged, her chin lifting just a little only to be met with a quiet smirk that twitched Ontari's lips.

"It appears so," Ontari said, and Lexa watched her eyes dart down to where a particularly prominent bruise had been left above her right breast. "I was sure Heda would break you," she said eventually as her eyes snapped up to meet her. "And yet here you stand."

Lexa didn't know what exactly Ontari meant by that. She didn't know if Ontari spoke of the previous night, she didn't know if Ontari spoke of every interaction she had had with Clarke ever since being captured. Perhaps this, too, was a game of Ontari's, something for her to continue to poke and prod and get a rise out of her for whatever reason she desired. Or maybe it was a—

"—Perhaps I can try to break you."

Ontari's words cut into Lexa's thoughts and her eyes snapped up to meet Ontari's gaze.

"What?"

Ontari stepped a little closer, she invaded her space, head tilted to the side just a little.

Maybe it should have clicked for Lexa sooner than it had. But she slowly began to realise that of course Ontari and Clarke must have been in some way similar, compatible. There must have been a reason why Clarke kept Ontari close, why she had said Ontari had shared her bed at times. And perhaps, as Ontari seemed to peer at her with that same intrigue Clarke had once looked at her, Lexa found herself realising what that similarity was.

"I—" Lexa's words were cut off by Ontari lifting a finger and placing it directly onto her lips, the touch far more intimate and gentle than she had been with Lexa so far.

Again, Lexa found herself realising the relationship between Clarke and her people to be so strange, so foreign to her. But most of all, she thought whatever existed between Clarke and Ontari even stranger. She thought it so because Clarke was seen as something inhuman— not that she wasn't. But Lexa hadn't had as close an example of how different Clarke was then in the situation she found herself now.

It probably shouldn't have surprised Lexa considering Clarke had been so open about her relationship with Ontari, how she hadn't really made any emotional assurances to Lexa, and yet Lexa had been sure there was something between them, something odd, something a little unhealthy. But something nonetheless. Or perhaps whatever it was between them, was exactly the same as what existed between Clarke and Ontari.

"I'm not looking for anything serious, if that's what you're thinking," Lexa said awkwardly as she swallowed the lump in her throat as Ontari's finger slowly ran down her bottom lip. It seemed to bizarre to say what she said but she didn't know what else to say.

"Serious?" Ontari asked quietly as her finger slowly ran down Lexa's throat, down to her chest before a single pointed nail came to rest atop her beating heart. "You assume I want serious?"

It wasn't that Lexa had never been propositioned by people before. It wasn't that she was opposed to no-strings-attached sex. But she had never been propositioned twice in a row, and never by the ruler of an entire people, nor by what she could only describe as said ruler's personal guard, confidant, paramour, advisor, friend or any other word she could think of that would describe Ontari.

And yet here Lexa found herself, naked, hair a mess, bruised signs of a rather physical night of oddly erotic debauchery and a mind quite unsure of how to process the never-ending absurdity that her life had become.

Ontari hummed a sound as if she expected an answer sooner rather than later, and Lexa blinked in surprise as she realised Ontari had somehow slipped a shoulder out of her white furs, the line of her body, where shoulder met neck rather elegant in the still warm candlelight.

"I'm flattered, I really am," Lexa said, her voice a little dry, in part because she was shocked, in part because she still couldn't quite grasp what was happening given Ontari had seemed to want to beat her mere days earlier. "But I think I'm going to respectfully decline," god it sounded so stupid, so bizarre to say the words she said. But what else could she say?

Ontari sighed a small sound as she looked up and down Lexa's body one last time before she stepped back, her eyes glinting something between evil and guarded curiosity as she looked her over.

"A shame," Ontari said as she turned to lean, her shoulder vanishing back into her furs as if it had never been offered in the first place. "Perhaps next time you visit the Commander's bed she will ask me to join, then I will have the chance to break you," Ontari paused at the door to the outside world and she looked over her shoulder. "There is food if you are hungry," and with that she left.

Lexa let out a rather loud exhale of breath once she was sure Ontari was out of earshot. Confusion had well and truly replaced whatever other emotions had once existed within her mind and she found herself trying to reorder whatever she knew of Clarke, of Ontari, of their relationship and where she now thought she fit into the puzzle that had been revealed to her. But as hard as she tried, as hard as she considered and discarded piece of information after piece of information, she found herself unable to understand it any better.

And so Lexa shook those thoughts free, she turned to the clothes and the food that awaited her and she made a note of making sure whatever marks Clarke had left on her wouldn't be visible for she had things to do, plans to organise that were a little more important than whatever the hell had just happened between herself, Clarke and Ontari.