archenemy | clexa

sixteen

Lexa can't believe she has a Goddess in her bed.

This is exactly how she'd envision one if she didn't have her in perfection right in eyesight - rosy cheeks, liquid gold for hair, cascading down to the top of round breasts. Curves like drawn effortlessly by a talented artist, a soft stomach, a patch of blond curls between her thighs, innocently bright pink flesh peeking out beneath. Tantalizing, sparkling blue eyes that have a richer color than any summer sky, than any clear river.

Aren't angels told to come from the heavens? The sky? Yeah, Lexa guesses it's true. She has a goddess in her bed, a princess, and an angel.

She's just not sure about that definition of an angel internally. This one is definitely not good. Are there angels of death?

Lexa doesn't want to think about in just how many ways Clarke is divine. So instead, she brings her a nightgown, which Clarke puts on resentfully.

That's enough for Lexa, for now. She's not sure how far Gods can be pushed, so the fact that Clarke isn't wearing her clothes and isn't naked is good enough.

That is, until Clarke has tied the last, tiresome tie of the nightgown and Lexa realizes it's one of Costia's old ones. She freezes, and suddenly everything appears in a different light.

Another night after battle in the Heda's tent. Costia's been around camp all day, Lexa has fought and planned and led. Costia talks away happily. Lexa doesn't have to speak, Costia doesn't ask. When Lexa needs to rant, Costia is busy with whatever else so that the most grave things suddenly don't feel important even to Lexa. A soft smile, an invitation to let go of her duty for a night and relax. The never-changing, never-moving presence, always just there.

"Clarke? Please take that off again."

-

Clarke can't believe the Heda's words. By now, plenty of frustration has built up in her body and just because Heda thinks she's so superior, Clarke will not go through untying everything again and put on a more appealing gown. She's not the Heda's fucking puppet, the Heda surrendered to her, not the other way around, who the fuck does she think she is?

Clarke stares at her in disbelief and anger, but she finds something else than the resentful, cold woman who finds things to complain about everywhere. Suddenly, these green eyes look like Clarke has never seen them before. She feels like she's invading the Heda's privacy more by seeing her like this than she is when she's in bed with 'outside clothes' or naked.

Suddenly, Clarke is looking at a lost child with big puppy eyes, poorly concealed although the Heda manages to look stoic all the time otherwise. Suddenly, the anger on the Heda's side has faded and Clarke realizes she used 'please' and asked her to, instead of ordering it.

So Clarke can't help pushing the hate aside for a moment. More softly, less snappy, she says, "Okay."

"I can do it," the Heda offers and gestures to all the strings Clarke has tied with so much effort. "If you don't want to."

Clarke is far too overwhelmed with that offer to say no, even though that's her first instinct. Something's telling her that this is not the Heda's normal behaviour and that she's not going to experience it again, that the only reason she's showing softness is a memory of the gown and not Clarke at all, so Clarke lets her have the moment. Also, she really doesn't want to untie that nightgown again.

So she sits on the edge of the bed and the Heda settles behind her, nimble fingers avoiding touching her skin like it would burn her and easily untying the gown again. The fast, familiar way she unties it makes Clarke think that it must've belonged to the woman the Heda mentioned in her speech at the harvest feast Clarke snuck into, the one that had switched sides.

Using this very temporary vulnerability to her advantage just the slightest, Clarke asks for the Heda's name in the meanwhile. If the Heda gets to call Clarke by name, she wants that to be a fair dynamic.

Clarke has never heard the Heda's voice softer when she says, "Lexa," without protest. Somehow, it makes Clarke hope she'll get to hear it again.

She never does. The Heda- Lexa- goes back to being her usually harsh self as soon as the nightgown is off.

-

The next day, they move north. It's a three-days trip to the appointed battlefield, meeting inbetween the camp's spot by Arkadia and Azgeda.

Since Lexa (Clarke hasn't entirely wrapped her mind around the fact that the Heda is human enough to have an actual name) has no hesitation in showing her icy hate towards Clarke, Clarke doesn't see the point in riding together at the very front of the moving army. She lets herself fall back instead and finds Lin, who rides next to a man Clarke doesn't know.

He has thick, golden-red hair that glows in the sun, and Clarke has no idea where his beard begins and his hair stops. Everything is kept in order by the same, neat braids. Besides that, he's at least twice as big as Lin. His horse is massive, but doesn't make up much against his majestic statue, his impossibly broad shoulders, his chest that makes his shirt strain.

It's nearly amusing when that mass of a man goes all pink upon noticing Clarke. "Skaiprisa," he says and attempts a bow on his horse. "I am deeply honored, your majesty. Deity? Oh God, oh God." The pink on his cheeks brightens and he looks at Lin for help. "I think I messed up, what do I do? Do you think she speaks English?"

Clarke chuckles. "Yeah, I do. It's fine. You can call me Clarke."

He's full on red now. "Oh. Okay. That's a pretty name. My nephew is named Klark, it's almost like that."

His face turns almost purple when he realizes what he said. "Oh my, I didn't mean to compare an ordinary boy to you, I'm sorry my lady, I just get so nervous around important people. Gods? Princesses? Oh goodness. Oh goodness."

Clarke hurries to say,  "It's okay, you're okay. What's your name?"

"Ax. I'm Ax. This is Lin."

"Yeah, I got to know her yesterday."

So Lin, Ax and Clarke talk for a bit (Ax mostly stutters) before Clarke catches sight of Raven and Octavia and moves on to check on them. Bellamy joins them along the ride somewhen and the time fades quickly until night falls and they put up camp.

Clarke has never ridden a horse before, so her whole body is sore by the end of the day. The fact that no Skaikru person has fallen down that day in the first place is marvellous, but Clarke knows for a fact that she's not the only one who will be in pain the next day.

Lexa does not talk to her. Clarke has to wear a nightgown again, she gets glares (does Lexa want to kiss her or kill her? Clarke can't always tell. Communication would be helpful) and a strictly divided bed. It's not like Clarke can control where she moves in her sleep anyway.

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