fragile | clexa

chapter twenty four

He didn't say anything, but he didn't look exactly... pleased, either.

During the time that the cake was in the oven, Clarke retreated into the back of the room, where Lexa sat and watched everything. The others went into their respective corners, only then properly noticing that the Heda was there at all.

With attempted to be subtle glances- except from the shaggy haired one, he just stared- they watched Clarke's weak steps towards the Heda, who had a scaringly kind expression on. She whispered something, too, and then she non-chalantly let Clarke climb onto her lap and curl against her torso.

All four looked away again.

Neither Lexa nor Clarke had noticed the others looking much, and Lexa just tried to keep Clarke comfy in her seat. "How is this?" she asked softly.

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

And then they simply waited for the cake to be done, and for everyone to get their share of it with a huge heart made out of whipped cream from old Berta. She said her words to everyone, clapped them on the back- a little more careful with Clarke, she probably was afraid to break the girl's bones- and the house slowly emptied again.

Clarke didn't mind baking, and she didn't mind that they went again two days later- that time for cooking- and old Berta started with introduction games in breaks. Clarke had to sit most of the time, her legs not yet strong enough to stand for several hours, but none of the others seemed to care further.

The shaggy, thin boy's name was Murphy, and his friend's name was Jac, but without a k. The hazel-eyed girl's name was Niylah and the dark-haired was called Noa, and none of them liked kale. That was what Clarke remembered anyway.

Lexa spent her time in the back, watching everyone get along with their tasks and looked out to catch every unsure, or happy or Lexa didn't know what glance of Clarke.

If she wasn't the one the blonde's eyes were directed on, it was always Niylah, Lexa noticed rather quickly.

Lexa wasn't stupid, either, or blind. She could see that that blonde girl had some beauty there and Clarke seemed to notice it too, memorizing and watching it more than half the time.

"You like her?" she asked on one day back home to their tent. Clarke always was tired after the baking and cooking sessions, firstly through the physical exercise and then through the social interacting that seemed to drain energy as well.

"Hm?"

"Niyhal?"

"Her name's Niylah."

"Is it."

"She's nice," Clarke shrugged after a while.

"I've seen you look at her."

Clarke blushed, and Lexa could see it quite well despite of how they were sitting on the horse.

"That's okay," she added before the reddened cheeks could turn into some kind of panic. "She's pretty, I absolutely get it."

Clarke seemed rather hesitant. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you know, if you like her," Lexa explained, and suddenly she was the one blushing.

"Romantically?" Clarke asked and Lexa'd never heard her voice so incredulous.

"I mean that's okay, you know. If you like her that way. You could ask her out or something."

Clarke was blushing to the tip of her ears, or to the tip of her hairs even, her whole face red as it vanished from Lexa's sight to bury in her chest. The heat radiated right through the fabric.

"I was trying to get a full sight of her arm and leg tattoo. She always had it covered somehow, but once in a while a sleeve slipped up or something. That's- that's why I looked at her," Clarke rushed out.

"Oh. Oh, that makes sense. Sorry. I just thought."

Lexa felt horrible about herself asking, because Clarke wasn't the same the whole evening. She didn't fall asleep on Lexa, and she washed her face herself instead of Lexa doing so, and she slept facing the wall, back to the usual stiffness.

"Clarke?"

"Yes," came the answer, and it was like that first day when Lexa had forced Clarke to reply to her questions with no or yes.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm really sorry, you know, for earlier. I didn't think. I just- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk about that stuff."

"It's nothing."

Lexa's least favorite word was 'nothing', and especially when it came to Clarke.

"Are you sure?"

Clarke wasn't sure, and she was horrible at hiding it. It took a while of coaxing and questioning for her to bury herself further in the furs and mumble something about Finn. With all the stutters and pauses she did, and the quiet talking, it was hardly possible for Lexa to understand. She didn't know how she managed, but God she felt even worse after she did.

She hadn't ever thought a lot about Clarke's past past, like before the slavery, but it turned out- after a lot of 'I'm not allowed to talk about her' s- that Clarke had used to be that kind of sparkling teenager who spent her days going out with friends and dreaming of love.

Her first boyfriend, said Finn, had asked her on a date a few weeks into quite dull dating, which had only seemed nice because Clarke had been great at making things be good in her mind. An excited maybe 15 or 16 year old girl, probably all dressed up, waiting for her oh so lovely and perfect boy to pick her up and take her out. Rambling about her weekend on the way, eager to have a first kiss maybe, somewhen, and then, Clarke told her, Finn had turned the horse not to the meadow with the cherry tree she'd been anticipating to go to, but into the woods.

Lexa hadn't asked for it and she surely didn't think Clarke wanted to talk about it, but the girl got caught up between tears and trying to stop them, that she just went on and on. Talking about how Finn had suddenly grabbed her, ripped her favorite flowery dress while he shoved her against a tree to tie her hands and gag her mouth. Then, the horse men that had taken the package, talked with Finn and given him a small bag with coins.

Old world buildings very far in the forest had been their destination. Dirty and not the place for a pinkish dress. It had been taken off her, she'd been forced into two pieces of fabric that only just covered the very necessary and then- then Clarke had a panic attack.

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