Chapter Text
When she saw Clarke again, the girl was with a gag in her mouth and a matted nest on her hair. Her eyes were hard and the blue was ice instead of a sky she fell from, and Lexa swallowed hard as she wiped the spit from her face that Clarke delivered right after she freed her mouth of a gag.
Clarke was furious, Clarke was hardened, and Clarke was rather dirty. It was apparent that the girl hadn’t cleansed herself properly for quite a while now, and, as much as the mighty Wanheda made her heart race – which in turn made her blood run cold from the terrifying yet exciting implications – Lexa couldn’t argue that Clarke could really use a bath. And the longer she soaked in it, the better. Lexa’s heightened sense of smell could vouch for that.
But Clarke was firmly set on not forgiving the Commander, and apparently holding a grudge meant not taking her up on any offers. Including her royal bath chambers. All Lexa could do was sigh and patiently let the leader of Skaikru fume in peace for a week.
Which meant one more week until 'Clarke’ and ‘clean’ would unite.
And, just as Lexa predicted, Clarke was just as mad and dirty when she went to talk to her after seven days had passed. And what did ‘float yourself’ even mean? Judging by Clarke’s tone, it wasn’t something she would enjoy doing.
She sighed at Clarke’s outburst and made her way to the exist, but, before leaving, she called out for her Wanheda softly. Clarke turned grudgingly, displaying just how much she didn’t want Lexa to be in her room.
“I understand your anger, Clarke,” she softly began. “But you don’t have to punish yourself, not anymore. At least enjoy Polis. The city has many things to offer.” She shifted her eyes higher, taking the blonde matted hair in. “Hot water is one of them,” the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she immediately felt guilty. It was unfair, she knew, speaking Trigedasleng when Clarke only knew basic phrases. It felt like cheating.
The word ‘betrayal’ surfaced in her mind, burning its acidic way through her chest. For a second, she allowed herself to remember Clarke’s face at Mount Weather, confused and lost. She swallowed before speaking again. “I hope you will agree to meet with me soon.”
She missed Clarke’s offended expression as she walked out, promising herself to stick to English and teach Clarke Trigedasleng if the girl so wished.
However, something about Clarke made her want to slip into her native tongue here and there. Mostly when Clarke was being adorable, and strong, and brave, and stubborn, and… generally every time she caused Lexa to drown in her own emotions. Which was every time she so much as breathed in Heda’s presence.
Lexa was well aware how weak that made her, and she frankly didn’t have it in her to care. After spending three months worrying Clarke’s body was lying in a ditch while her head was about to be sent to her by Ice Queen, being in love with Clarke certainly didn’t seem as terrifying.
But for now, romance was the furthest thing on Clarke’s mind, and so Lexa had to conceal her love. It was not the time. She knew that. But knowing wasn’t the same as feeling, and, when it came to Clarke, her feelings always came spilling out, no matter how hard she tried to control them – therefore, she gave up control altogether. Well, not altogether – she didn’t allow herself the luxury of physically acting on her feelings, and Clarke wasn’t grabbed and pressed against her as she tasted her soft lips, no matter how much Heda wanted to do just that sometimes. But with words? Lexa became much more relaxed with her words.
Especially since Clarke didn’t understand many of them.
Wanheda started it all, anyway, her husky ‘Good night, Commander’ making Lexa weak at the knees with desire.
The following morning, she invited Clarke to have breakfast with her, and, as she poured juice for the girl, a soft ‘here you go, my love’ slipped out. She didn’t even realize what she had just said, not after Indra raised her eyebrows at her. The woman snorted then, leaving with a huff. She would deal with Indra later, she decided.
She failed to notice Clarke blush.
It had been a couple of weeks, and Clarke hadn’t commented on her occasional Trigedasleng. All she got was curious glances and shy smiles, but the girl didn’t ask what the words meant. Lexa guessed Clarke simply liked to hear her speak another language. She once conversed with a historian about courtship of the past, and he mentioned many people considered different languages romantically appealing. Sky people must have carried that tradition through the years.
Seeing Clarke’s soft smile that she tried to hide was worth many things, so Lexa started to borrow more words and even sentences from her native tongue.
And, since Clarke wasn’t really interested in meaning, only in sound, Heda also got bolder.
“Clarke, my love,” she greeted the blonde who entered her throne room. Wanheda immediately blushed. Lexa found it endearing, and didn’t hesitate to say so. “Gods, you are beautiful. Is everything alright? Have you been seeking me this afternoon?”
Clarke, who blushed even deeper, nodded mutely.
“I, uh, yes,” she said after she found her voice. “I wanted to talk to you about, um… God, it’s kinda embarrassing.”
Lexa was at her side in an instant.
“Clarke, love, you have nothing to be embarrassed for. I would be happy to assist you with anything you need.” She swallowed before muttering quietly, “And I do mean anything.”
Clarke suddenly choked, coughing until Lexa patted her back, concerned.
“Clarke, are you alright? Would you like some water?”
The blonde nodded quickly. Lexa, now even more worried, raced to a table full of glass pitchers with different liquids, pouring a glass of water for the girl. Clarke accepted the glass, grateful, before gulping it down.
“Thanks. Choked on my spit, I guess. Um, what I wanted to talk to you about… I kinda… don’t have anything to wear.” She grimaced after she said the words. Lexa decided it was even more endearing than her blush. Or, at the very least, equal to. The words Clarke said registered in her brain only after she found the girl staring at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her response.
“Oh. Well, that is nothing to worry about, darling. I will have our tailors make clothes for you. Whatever you need.”
Clarke grimaced again.
“Thanks. I don’t need much, it’s just… Spare pants and a shirt would be nice to have.”
“Clarke.” Lexa neared the girl again, smiling at the way her name rolled on her tongue. She would probably never get used to it. She didn’t want to, at least. “Anything you need. Do not restrict yourself. Choose what you want. An Ambassador needs to have basic things taken care of so she can worry about big things, my love.”
The blonde nodded again and thanked her. They spent the day looking over Polis and conversing about their people and the decisions they had to make for them. Clarke’s shy smile was the best ending to the best day of Lexa’s life. Young Heda sighed as soon as her Wanheda left the room, and sleep came easy that night, filled with sparkling blue eyes and smoky voice whispering promises.
Promises Clarke unintentionally kept, when she showed up the next morning to their now customary breakfast, clad in new riding pants and a blue deep v-neck. Lexa struggled not to drool, and breakfast was spent avoiding looking into Clarke’s general direction and mumbling something incomprehensible in reply to the blonde’s questions that grew more and more alarmed.
“Lexa?” Finally, Wanheda couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“What? No. Why do you think so?”
“Well, for one, you haven’t looked at me since I walked in.”
Lexa’s eyes immediately travelled to Clarke’s face. But because Lexa was so, so weak, they just as immediately dropped to her cleavage. A promising, deep, enticing cleavage. Heda almost groaned with frustration and, in a display of unbelievable willpower, forced her eyes to look into Clarke’s.
She ended up staring at Clarke’s forehead.
“Um, Lexa? Usually I say ‘my eyes are up here’, but right now, they are down there.” Clarke seemed amused, at least, she thought.
“I’m sorry. I don’t feel well,” she lied. Clarke stood up instantly, her hand reaching up to touch Lexa’s forehead.
“You don’t have a fever,” she announced, still wearing a concerned frown. “Do you feel any pain? Dizziness?”
Lexa bit her lip, hard, as she watched Clarke’s thighs flex in those tight, tight pants.
“Uh, it’s hot in here,” she blurted out. The blonde nodded.
“Yes, must be the heat. Here, I’ll get you some cold water.”
No, Lexa thought. No, don’t do that. Don’t do that, because water is just out of reach at the other end of the table, and you’re too worried to walk all the way, which means you’ll have to…
Clarke bent over, and Lexa was presented with a view of her behind, clad in tight, tight pants. Heda couldn’t help herself. She really couldn’t.
“Oh Gods, your ass looks amazing,” she all but moaned. There was a startled gasp, and a crash, and then water was everywhere, dripping on the floor from the tablecloth. Clarke gaped at her, and broken pieces of a glass she was holding lay at her feet.
That was the first time Lexa began to suspect her Wanheda was much more well-versed in Tridegasleng than she let on.
However, Clarke quickly gathered herself, apologized, and, after they cleaned up the mess, they continued their breakfast, with Clarke just as nonchalant as ever.
“Heda! The one they call Bellamy is here.”
Clarke’s head turned sharply as Indra said a familiar name. Lexa sighed. Just as they were working past Bellamy’s betrayal, he decided to show up. They haven’t seen him since Lexa started peace negotiations with Sky people and Pike ran away after Octavia started a revolution from within. Heda smiled slightly as she remembered Indra’s second in action. She threw a great punch at Bellamy, too. That alone was enough for Lexa to immediately respect the girl.
“What does he want?” She asked Indra. The woman cautiously eyed Clarke before answering.
“He wants to talk to you and Wanheda.”
“Did he come here as a friend or as an enemy?”
Lexa had been surprised many times in her young life. Most surprises were unpleasant. Some were painful, like Costia. Some filled her with relief, like seeing Clarke unharmed and well. But none of those surprises were as unexpected as Clarke speaking fucking perfect Tridegasleng.
To Indra’s credit, she simply raised an eyebrow before carrying on as usual.
“A dog, with his tail between his legs.”
Clarke shook her head, smirking.
“Then I will see him, if Heda approves.” Both women turned to Lexa, expectant.
Lexa blinked.
“Yes. We will see him. Lead him to the throne room, we will be there in a moment.”
She continued to stare at Clarke after Indra left, and, as soon as Indra left, Clarke let out a husky laugh.
“You should’ve seen your face, Lexa,” she barely managed between giggles. “You looked like you were about to pass out.”
“How long?” Lexa gritted out, embarrassed beyond belief. She already knew the answer, though. Clarke was fluent in her mother tongue long before Roan brought her to Polis, probably.
“Long enough,” Clarke chuckled. “My love, huh?”
Lexa felt hot embarrassment rush to her cheeks. Clarke was mocking her. She knew this entire time and she cheated her. It felt awful.
“Don’t be mad, Heda,” the reason of her anguish said softly, still smiling. Lexa couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes, so Clarke did it for her, gently grasping her chin and lifting it so their gazes met. “I wanted to tell you, but I just wanted to hear you say ‘my love’ one more time. And one more time became lots of times. I knew that if I told you, you’d become closed off again… Trigedasleng was the only thing that made it easy for you to express your feelings, and I didn’t want to take it away from you.” Clarke paused, smiling at her, causing her stomach to tie into knots and burst with thousands of butterflies. “I hope you’ll forgive me… my love.”
And Lexa had no other choice but to kiss that smile.