Luna laughs as soon as Lexa says it. "Very believable, the good girl murdered someone. They'll think we're threatening poor you."
"No, they won't. It is no secret to them that I'm capable of more sin than you could ever know."
Luna squints her eyes.
Either this teacher is absolutely batshit crazy, or there is more to the whole story than Luna originally assumed.
None of the questions she has have time to be answered, though.
All that matters right now is that for some reason, this girl thinks it's a better option for her to be a murderer than for Clarke or Luna to be one, which is insane, because Luna and Clarke both are already devils anyway, aren't they?
All that matters is that they're going to execute that teacher, and Luna can't let her die just yet, not when she's willing to die for Clarke and herself both.
Luna kneels besides the teacher. "I killed them."
"Please-"
"Be quiet. They can make their choice as to whom they would rather execute, and that is not in your power. I killed them."
The teacher is, in fact, quiet, until she says. "My name is Lexa."
"Luna."
"Emori," another voice suddenly says as a third woman takes her place next to the bodies, and covers herself in deep red blood. "I killed them."
Luna frowns, but before she can speak, she realizes that another group of women has followed Emori over from the tents, at least a dozen, the witnesses Luna was talking about killing just a few minutes ago. They all kneel, some unsure, some without hesitation, followed by, "I killed them."
Over and over again.
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
"I killed them."
When it finally becomes quiet, Lexa speaks up hesitantly. "You can let the guards know it was me and it will count toward your behaviour points. You could be released early. You all witnessed, you can all benefit from this, you do not need to do this."
Emori looks Lexa up and down and then shakes her head. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to turn against the enemy and make us turn against each other."
"What? No-"
"Your friend was about to be assaulted. I do not know who killed these men, but that was self-defense and deserved. What do you think we're here for? I aborted a baby I didn't ask for."
"I refused a man in the tower the special services he requested," another woman down the line says.
"I was unable to get pregnant by my ex-husband."
"I stabbed the man who assaulted me."
"A friend showed me his dick and I told him to put clothes on."
"I hadn't yet gotten my period when I was married, and couldn't bear my husband the amount of children he was promised at the age he was promised."
"I reported my father for assault."
"I confessed to the priest that my brother hit me."
"I killed my daughter's rapist."
"I'm a midwife and helped women with pain relief during births."
"I did not marry my daughter to a man four times her age, but my husband needed the money the suitor would have paid."
"I'm a maid and ran away from Jaha when he made me take my robes off."
"My husband didn't like my stretchmarks after pregnancy."
"I'm not thin enough for my boss."
"I was asked to a dance and said no."
"I became allergic to face paint and had to stop wearing it, but my husband thought I look ugly that way."
"I was jokingly invited for a run competition and I was faster than the boys."
"I kicked the guy in the balls who jerked off on me in the tower's elevator."
The flood of confessions seems to never end, and every one of them fills Luna with more fury. She can't believe any of these people are being imprisoned for any of these things.
Lexa isn't as surprised, but the sheer magnitude of these 'crimes' overwhelms her. She only ever hears of possessed and demonic women in the tower, sometimes of witches, but she never knew what exactly made them so evil.
Is a woman really made a witch by saying no? By merely existing? By surviving?
"We're already criminals," Emori says. "As soon as we were born girls, we became criminals. It doesn't matter if we murder someone, too."
"They could execute you," Lexa manages carefully.
"I would rather die than profit off another woman's pain."
She gets a few collective nods and hums of agreement, and Lexa looks down at her knees as guilt, once again, floods her to the depths of her bones.
If only these woman knew. If only they knew the terrible person Lexa is, if only they knew the files she has read but not questioned, the orders she followed, the maids she's seen abused but not helped.
If only they knew.
For another few minutes, they sit there in silence, about two dozen women and girls, smeared in the blood of the men they claim to have killed.
And then, finally, the next round of guards appears in between the houses and tents, making their way straight over to the crime scene.
-
Clarke wakes up with a pounding headache and a mouth feeling like a shovel full of sand.
With a groan, she rolls over and reaches out for the water she usually keeps by her bed.
"Water?" someone asks, and Clarke immediately sits up, eyes trying to adjust to the dim light in the room.
Lexa.
Relief floods Clarke.
"Do you have beer?"
Lexa chuckles and hands Clarke a mug of water instead. Clarke downs it, wondering why it was so easy to get Lexa to laugh, and then, as she properly wakes up, the memories of earlier come back to her.
Her eyes meet Lexa's helplessly, who seems much better lit by the candles now, and Lexa offers her a small smile in return. "Would you like a bath? I warmed water up for you."
Clarke nods, tongue heavy in her mouth, and her cheeks burn hot as she slowly remembers that not only Lexa must have seen her, but Luna did too.
Just how undressed did these guys get her? How far did their hands wander? How well did Clarke fight them?
Right now, she's wearing soft pants and a sweater, but they're not hers, so she knows she was wearing less earlier. The prospect of just how little she may have been wearing scares her, and makes her want nothing but that warm bath Lexa offered.
She stays in the bath until the water gets cold. She doesn't even properly wash herself, but just sits in the water, stares at the wall ahead of her, and tries to process the shame that is consuming her.
Why didn't she fight more?
What was that poison?
Why did she let it get to her?
Why didn't she fight better?
Are those men dead? Who killed them?
Did Luna? Is she executed by now?
Did Clarke? Why isn't she in prison or dead right now? Isn't murder illegal?
Why is Lexa acting so peaceful?
That must mean she didn't kill them, right?
How much did Luna do?
How much did Luna see?
How much did Lexa have to help her to a dressed state?
Did anyone carry her to bed? They must have.
Clarke can't believe when she feels the hot liquid of tears run down her cheeks and wipes at them furiously, but they just won't stop.
Her torso is so bruised.
Did they take off her chestbindings?
It's just a few scratches, but why are they worse than the stabs Clarke has endured?
Clarke isn't ashamed of showing her body, why is she praying no one saw her naked tonight? Why is she so afraid of the prospect of Luna or Lexa having seen her naked?
She wouldn't mind any other night.
They're going to abandon her. She can't even protect herself.
Gods, Clarke can't even remember.
She can't remember what exactly happened, she probably didn't even kill these guys.
She imagines Luna killing Clarke's attackers and her tears get worse, her shame makes her want to throw up. If Luna is going to be executed for that, Clarke could never forgive herself.
But then again, Lexa didn't mention anything.
She probably didn't kill anyone at all.
How fucking pathetic.
They're going to leave without her.
The sun is going to rise and they will have escaped, back to the ship, leaving her rotten on this shitty continent with these shitty people.
A part of her staying in the water until it's cold is trying to get her eyes to go back to non-puffy and non-red. Another part is being unreasonably afraid to step outside this door and face Lexa.
She could probably act as though she fell asleep in the bath, right? Or climb out the window- no, fuck, curfew.
She finally gets her shit together and opens the damn door, but she knows her cheeks are burning and that her eyes are still red, too.
She doesn't think that she has ever felt so naked in her entire life as she does now, paradoxically, because these must be the most covering clothes she has ever worn, given that they're Lexa's.
Lexa looks back at her from the window sill, where she has once again found a seat, and Clarke thinks she must look like a child, like the very weakness Clarke is so very afraid of, like a helpless, stupid teenager.
She prays Lexa doesn't ask how she's doing.
"How are you?"
Fuck, she jinxed it.
"Just peachy." Clarke just so manages her signature smirk.
"Are you tired?"
Yes, Gods, Clarke is tired. And just tonight, she would trade her shame with her nightmares.
But she can't fall asleep in front of Lexa again. Especially not since having passed out in front of her. Especially not tonight.
"No."
"Are you familiar with chocolate chip cookies?"
"Chocolate? What's that?"
Lexa smiles and slides off the window sill, without a sound, and comes over to Clarke. "It cures a lot of things."
"Like a herb? I'm not sick."
"It cures other things. Would you like me to show you?"
And because Clarke has nothing better to do, because tonight has been strange all over, she nods. She just trails downstairs behind Lexa like a baby cow would trail behind its mother.
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