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The little grounder comes holding more flowers than she can hold, small flowers slipping out of her grasp and creating a flower trail. She dumps them in front of Clarke and plops down beside her. She doesn’t say anything to her, and after a quick smile she turns her attention to the pile of flowers in front of her. Clarke shrugs and continues eating her apple and reading the book she borrowed from the library.
Eventually she smiles and holds a bunch of bright yellow flowers out for her “Dison laik yun.”
Clarke understands the gesture and returns a smile, taking the flowers and smelling them.
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t think she understands but she still gives Clarke a toothy smile and goes back to playing with the colourful flowers. Clarke doesn’t really know why she had decided to sit with her but her playfulness and innocence is refreshing, so she doesn’t mind the company. It’s a nice distraction from her own dark thoughts.
“What’s your name?” Seeing the confused look on the child’s face, Clarke mentally slaps herself. Of course she wouldn’t speak English.
“Um, ai laik Clarke.” She points to herself, “yu laik?” she trails off, pointing at the girl.
She pats her chest happily, “ai laik Isa.”
“Isa.” She repeats and Isa nods, “where are your parents? Uh yu nomon? Nontu?” She stumbles over the words, wishing she learnt more of the language now.
Isa points to the little houses that make up the market, babbling in rapid Trigedasleng that Clarke doesn’t understand, but she seems to know where they are so she’s a bit more relieved.
She takes another bit of her apple before seeing Isa staring at it. Smiling, she cuts in half and offers it to her.
Isa takes it with a smile, “Mochof, Clarke!” She watches as she takes a huge bite of her piece, juice dripping off her chin and Clarke’s heart pangs at how easy her smile comes.
She hasn’t seen what Clarke has seen or what so many others have seen. She is carefree and happy and Clarke hopes with her every being that she is able to stay that way for a little longer.
She starts weaving the flowers into a crown, just to give her mind and hands something to do and when she’s done she places it on top of Isa’s head. The ear to ear smile that spreads across Isa’s face is enough to bring a smile to Clarke’s lips and it’s an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.
There is a certain wonder and genuine excitement to Isa’s features that spills out of her freely and Clarke envies. It reminds her of what they fight for.
Of what Lexa fights for.
Isa continues to give her flowers to turn into crowns so Clarke keeps making them. And somehow other children start to appear, all eager for their own crown and Clarke is happy to oblige them.
There’s a certain peacefulness and focus needed to make of these crowns, weaving and tying them together to showcase the flowers and make them sturdy enough for the energy of five year olds, and it’s the longest Clarke has gone without thinking about Mount Weather and the dead that haunt her mind.
She’s so focused on making them that she doesn’t even notice Lexa pass them, until there are shouts of “Heda! Heda!” and the children run and surround Lexa to show off the flowers in their hair.
Lexa meets her eyes for a brief moment, and opens her mouth to say something but the little ones jumping for her attention draw her away, and she kneels next to them with a small smile on her face as she listens to them all talk at once.
There’s a softness and gentleness that Clarke sees so rarely come out in Lexa and she can’t take her eyes off of her. She pays attention to all the kids, nodding to them and replying to all of them. And the children love her, all clamouring for a bit of her attention and offering flowers of their own. War and duty has forced Lexa to be ruthless, to sacrifice herself for her people, but it peeks out here with the children.
It had peeked out with Clarke too. She remembers the gentleness of her calloused hand as it cupped her cheek, the softness of her lips as she kissed Clarke so gently. Like she was so very precious.
She doesn’t know what to feel with Lexa, doesn’t know what to do. And she still doesn’t know what to do when Isa comes back, pulling Lexa back with her. There is an uncertain expression on her face, almost shy, as if she isn’t sure that she is allowed to be near her, but Clarke gestures her for her to sit and so Lexa sits down cross legged with an energetic Isa between them.
Isa gestures to the crown still in Clarke’s hands and points to Lexa, saying something in Trigedasleng that makes Lexa blush and shake her head.
“Do you want one, Commander?” she teases, a wiry smile on her lips.
“I – You do not have to.” She replies and it makes Clarke roll her eyes.
“Well I made this one already, so you can have it.”
She reaches over to her to place the colourful crown on her head, and Lexa ducks her head to make it easier. It’s only when she’s adjusting on top of her head that Clarke realizes just how close they are, and she can see Lexa’s breath hitch and she has to swallow her own feelings.
Lexa’s eyes never leave her own, eyes full of things she wants to say but doesn’t.
“Thank you, Clarke.” She says instead.
“You’re welcome.”
Isa tugs on Lexa’s sleeve, and whispers something in her ear, and Clarke can tell it has something to do with her the way Lexa’s eyes widen and glance at her. She starts to protest but Isa gives her a push, gesturing in a way that makes Clarke grin.
“What is it?”
Lexa sits up straight and clears her throat, “Clarke, will you do me the honour of braiding flowers into your hair?”
She raises an eyebrow, surprised at the request but replies, “uh, sure.”
The children clamour up to find more flowers and Clarke moves to sit in front of Lexa so she can begin combing her fingers through her hair. Her fingers are soft and careful as she runs them gently across her scalp and it feels better than Clarke will ever admit. She can feel them brush by her ears, her neck, and she has to focus on keeping her breathing steady.
Lexa takes great care not to tug too hard, weaving her hair in seemingly complex patterns.
When she is finally done, the kids all clap and exclaim happily so Clarke can only assume it looks ok.
Isa says something to her that she doesn’t understand but behind her Lexa replies in agreement.
She turns to Lexa, who looks at her with love and wonder in her eyes, “What did she say?”
“You’re beautiful.”
The complete sincerity in her voice makes her want to kiss her again, but now isn’t the time nor is she anywhere ready.
“Thank you, Lexa.” She replies, trying to make sure she understands in three little words.
She nods and gives her the smile she always gives Clarke.
Not yet.
But maybe someday.