Work Text:
The candlelight flickers around the room sending shadows flickering onto the walls and adding to the light the setting sun is quickly taking away. Clarke can’t help but take in a deep breath, committing the smell to her memory.
Lexa.
The room isn’t what she imagined. None of the rooms in Polis are like what she imagined. Much like her own, the room is filled with small comforts and accents that make the cold, tall, imposing structure feel like home.
Lexa’s home.
Clarke takes it all in, letting a small smile spread on her face.
This room belongs to Lexa. Not Heda. Not the Commander of the Blood.
But the girl who carries the weight of worlds on her small shoulders.
She walks slowly around the room, letting her fingers touch and drag along without fear, taking in everything around her. Moving her eyes quickly away from the large, intricate bed post, and onto the bear hide in the center of the room trying to quell the blush that rises in her cheeks.
Lexa invited her into the space.
Welcomed Clarke to borrow freely from the small personal collection of books she keeps here.
The same way she welcomed Clarke to anything she may enjoy while she stays in Polis.
No longer truly an Ambassador, but an exile.
A guest.
Under the Heda’s protection.
Her stomach flutters when she stops and thinks about it.
Thinks about how she is starting to feel more at home here in Polis than she has anywhere else on the ground.
How at home she feels with Lexa.
She finds the small bookshelf and surveys the dusty, worn bindings. A few familiar titles pop out and she pulls them off the shelf, turning them over in her hands. Memories of simpler times up on the Ark with her father come rushing back, flooding through her mind like a movie.
“That is one of my favorites.” Lexa’s voice breaks her out of it.
She takes a second to breathe again before responding, “It’s a great one.”
“You’ve read it.”
Clarke nods her head and places it back on the shelf, scanning the remaining items. She feels Lexa’s presence next to her, watches as a hand stretches out and points to another, “This is one as well.”
A title unfamiliar to Clarke. “Can I read it?”
Lexa nods, “Of course.” She smirks and tilts her head towards Clarke, “Perhaps when you are finished we can discuss your thoughts.”
Clarke smiles back, “I’d like that.”
Xx
It becomes a habit over the next few days. Clarke finds herself spending her hours sitting in Lexa’s room reading. Sometimes Lexa sits with her, but more often than not Clarke is alone with the words on the page.
Lexa can never quite hide the smile that alights in her eyes whenever she finds Clarke in her space.
Clarke doesn’t think she wants to.
Xx
“What else do you enjoy doing, Clarke?”
Clarke looks up from her book, no longer engrossed in the story but wholly in the girl before her. Relaxed and serene and looking at her that way she always does.
Like Clarke is made of magic.
Something to be cherished.
“Uh,” Clarke stutters around her words, too alive with the feeling of Lexa to understand the question for a moment. “I like to draw. I used to draw a lot before…”
“What did you draw?” Lexa sits on the couch and turns to face Clarke.
“Earth.”
A smile blooms on Lexa’s face, “Is it anything like you pictured it to be?”
“Not at all.”
Lexa falls into silence and Clarke pulls her eyes away, back to the book on her lap.
The words swimming before her. She has to read the same paragraph three times before she even understands it.
Instead of fighting it she looks up again. Lexa is studying something on her lap with a furrowed brow.
“What do you like to do?”
“I do not have the same freedom from my responsibilities as others do.”
Clarke smirks. “No, but you have a whole library in here, so you clearly like to read…”
Lexa nods and folds the paper on her lap, setting it down on the table before her. “I do.”
“So you must have other… hobbies.”
“I like to hunt.”
Warm laughter bubbles up from Clarke’s stomach and she relishes in how light she feels in Lexa’s presence.
“You find that amusing?”
Clarke shakes her head, “No. I find that very unsurprising.”
There’s a faint knock on the door before a small girl enters with a tray of food, setting it down and bowing quickly before scurrying away. Lexa shifts closer, “Would you like to dine with me, Clarke?”
“Yes.”
Xx
Clarke knocks politely on the large door as she always does before opening it. Not wanting to disturb Lexa.
Not wanting to intrude.
Only once has Lexa still been inside her room when Clarke has knocked. Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise when she opened the door to find her standing outside, stepping aside to usher her in.
When no one answers the door, Clarke pushes it open slowly and steps inside.
Pauses just inside the doorway, letting that wave of Lexa wash over her.
Stomach blooming as she basks in the familiarity of it all.
She steps inside towards the chair where she left her book the night before when something catches her eye.
An easel.
Her fingers tingle with excitement and the itch to draw.
The easel is beautiful and ornate and a work of art in itself and Clarke sinks into softness at the idea of Lexa picking it out, requesting it.
Stacks of paper sit atop the small table next to the easel, charcoals and pencils, jars of paint.
And in that moment everything else is lost.
She grabs a piece of charcoal, rolling it through her fingers. Remembering the silky feeling of it between her fingers, along the bottom of her hand as it raced across the page.
Something ignites within her and she feels a need she hasn’t in so long.
She pulls a few sheets of paper from the stack and opens the curtains before settling in her reading chair and letting her hand bring the pictures in her mind to life.
Xx
“Clarke.” Lexa’s soft voice pulls her from her daydream.
“Lexa…I…” She stops, unable to find the right words. Unable to figure out how to explain just how grateful she is. How she hasn’t felt this much like herself, like Clarke Griffin, since crashing to the ground.
But Lexa just smiles, “I’m glad you like it, Clarke.”
She pulls a book off the shelf and lies down on the couch next to Clarke, opening it up and settling in to read without another word.
And it’s odd, this sanctuary that they seem to have found with one another.
This solace.
And yet, Clarke wonders if it’s really not that odd at all.
It’s not long before Lexa’s hands droop and her breathing gets heavier across the room. Clarke glances up to find her asleep.
Her face more peaceful and relaxed than Clarke has ever seen it.
And everything else falls away.
Clarke lets herself look. Lets her eyes rove over the sharp lines and full lips. The strong brow. Unburdened. Happy.
Beautiful.
Clarke’s gaze lingers heavy for a long moment. The charcoal sliding through her fingers again.
A fresh page before her, the lines coming before she even knows it.
Fast and quick.
Easy.
The girl who has occupied her mind for so long coming to life in dark lines and shadows on the page before her.
And Clarke, never quite able to take her eyes away from Lexa for long, lets her gaze keep drifting back.
Her heartbeat thudding in her ears the whole time.
Her hand as steady as ever.