fragile | clexa

chapter twenty one

___________________________________

That night, it got rather late, since they had only gotten up the late afternoon and weren't particularly tired too soon. So after Lexa had talked more with Clarke- and asked horribly many questions- they were back in the bathroom to get ready for bed, the moon shining bright through a slit in the tent.

Though the bluish light was cold, it was caught softly by the flickering flames of several candles, and the place was lit up comfortably. Over the past few days, Lexa had always done the same things, to create a routine Clarke supposed. She would start of brushing Clarke's hair, then braided it loosely so it didn't get too messy throughout the night, washed possible dirt off Clarke's face, renewed bandages or band-aids if needed after applying ointment to all of Clarke's external injuries that still needed it, helped Clarke brush her teeth and then helped her into a rather simple robe for the night.

Clarke was afraid Lexa had specifically gotten it for her, maybe even let it be tailored with approximate values, because it wasn't only very easy, almost ridiculously easy to put on and take off, but it also roughly fit her bony, hunched figure.

Her steps back to the bed were shaky, but with Lexa's support she managed it just to her side of the bed. Sometimes she hated having the far side of it, but Lexa had once insisted because she didn't want Clarke sleeping closer to the tent entrance, even if it was guarded, and Clarke hadn't questioned it since.

She slept in Lexa's arms again that night. This time, she almost instantly fell asleep though, not even able to hold through to the change of Lexa's breathing rythm that signalled the woman had fallen asleep.

That night, it was rather Lexa who stayed awake longer than usual.

Not a month ago, she had hardly had any human contact and now she casually spent her whole day taking care of a slave, including cuddling her. She really couldn't get over that fact. For a decade she hadn't had friends or anything and the only physical touch she'd had were handshakes, and even before, it had only been stolen small touches with some of the other nightbloods.

Now, she was holding a body that close to her in her sleep, the only thing healthy about it its warmth. Lexa could feel every bone beneath her arms and hands and she was afraid to even let her arm properly rest on the blonde's torso, afraid that it might break, afraid that she'd crush the girl with her every movement. The sharp outlines of Clarke's shoulder blades and spine were pushing against the fabric of the shirt, almost cutting into Lexa's arms uncomfortably, and she had no idea at all how to cuddle someone properly.

She didn't even know anything about Clarke. Sure, that day she'd come quite far with questions she'd wanted to ask, but except maybe that Clarke preferred green over blue and blue over yellow, and that she hadn't been to Trishanakru, what did Lexa really know?

Her name was Clarke, she was from Trikru, and had been enslaved from what it looked like years ago.

Her family lived in Polis. What kind of family it was, Lexa didn't know either.

Who had sold her? Or kidnapped her, maybe? Who had brainwashed her like that and who had been her previous 'owners'? Who was behind the whole organisation?

Lexa was well aware she wouldn't get past asking Clarke these questions. In fact, she'd have to do so soon. It was her duty to keep her people safe and that was an obvious threat Titus had so carelessly exposed her to, so carelessly admitted a crime.

Or if it was a crime, she didn't know. Actually, thinking about it, Lexa was quite sure enslavement was not included in the official law.

Well, Titus had played with his life anyway. If Lexa would let him keep it, she wasn't sure yet.

Any way, this slave organisation took people, tortured them, turned their bodies and minds into such as Clarke's. Maybe it happened every day.

Lexa's people. And the only clue Lexa had was Clarke.

She would need to talk about it.

With a sigh, her hold on Clarke tightened softly, her head fell back into the pillows fully and she forced herself to relax. Until a certain point far beyond midnight, her mind was still not calm.

-

Two days passed, and Lexa did not further talk about anything to Clarke. A part of her pushed her to, saying she needed to save possible others, erase that organisation, and the other looked at Clarke hunched up next to Artigas, looking like a ghost and a skeleton mixed, and that not meant in any insulting way,

But her face was pale and hurt skin covered hollow cheeks with high, potruding cheekbones and her chin was sticking out just the same and Lexa felt so goddamn sorry for her. The worst might be seeing her walk, though.

It made Lexa genuinely proud for every step the blonde managed, and for every new record she managed, really, and she made sure to let Clarke know that, but God the girl could hardly bent her knees. The steps were stiff and her neck always a little craned, making it look like they were unnatural movements, the pain obvious in Clarke's eyes.

Lexa felt so bad for her.

A week passed. Lexa still hadn't talked to Clarke about the slavery topic. She had talked about some other, trivial things though, in an attempt to loosen things up a little and make it more casual for them to talk.

Every day, Lexa asked Clarke how she was, firstly starting off with the task to name all physical pains and slowly, moving on to her mental state and easy to talk about simplifications of her trauma. She needed to start somewhere, after all.

She took Clarke's nightmares as a first point. It was quite noticable that during those nights in which Clarke stayed on her own side, they were much more frequent and worse than when she was sharing Lexa's space, but still, the blonde seemed to still not have made peace with the fact that hugging or cuddling was okay and it apparently comforted her and there were nights where she was simply turned to her side and pretended to be asleep already.

Lexa first asked, behind the usual good morning, if Clarke had had nightmares at all. Then, in the bathroom, brushing the girl's hair, she asked how bad they were on a scale from one to ten. At breakfast, she'd ask if there had been other people in her nightmare.

After maybe two days of doing so, she asked who the people were. That seemed to be a bigger problem. Clarke didn't answer the question either breakfast, when asked, or lunch, when asked for the second time, but slowly warmed up the evening.

"Two more," was her answer.

"Two more people?"

A nod.

"Can you... tell me how they looked like?"

"Two men." Then, after a few seconds of silence. "Both brown eyes. Both brown hair. One lighter than the other. It was... it was a boy, rather, the first."

"Did the boy have the lighter or darker hair?"

"Lighter. Shaggy hair. Light skin."

"And the other one was older?"

Clarke nodded.

"Do you want to tell me about him?"

A clear headshake.

"That's okay Clarke. I'm proud of you for telling me about it so much already."

So a boy- well, a boy whenever Clarke had been taken- with light skin, shaggy, brown hair and brown eyes. If that was a victim, a fellow slave, or one of the bad guys, Lexa would have to find out.

The next day, Lexa asked again about the second man. Clarke seemed to absolutely block whenever it came to him though, and after a while, another thing came to her mind.

"Would you like to maybe write about them rather than talk?"

__________________________________

hi everyone,
I just wanted to say a rq thanks to everyone that's been keeping this going through voting, commenting or adding this to their reading list, I appreciate y'all so much. Also, I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, but in case anyone needs/wants someone to talk to, my instagram is @ idkmanfrogsarecool and everyone's welcome to dm :)
hope you enjoyed this, stay safe and don't forget you're awesome!