Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A year. It had been nearly a year since the pauldron and title of Commander had been lifted from her shoulders, nearly a year since she’d entered a city that wasn’t Arkadia, nearly a year since she’d had to do anything but hike and camp with Clarke. 

Almost a year after leaving Polis, Lexa and Clarke finally agreed to one of Helena’s numerous invitations and turned their horses towards Floukru.

There had been a party when they arrived, as they’d both predicted: Floukru scouts spotted their approach long before they arrived at Kape’s edge, giving Helena more than enough time to organize half the floating city’s inhabitants into a welcoming party. It was the moment Lexa had been dreading - there was no precedent for a former commander visiting a clan’s capital, as there was no precedent for a former commander at all - but she found relatively quickly she needn’t have worried. Of course Helena would have anticipated the problem and accounted for it. Her welcome drew on the traditional welcome for a visiting commander, but changed it just enough to make it its own distinct, less state-centric ceremony. None of that spared Lexa the attention, deference, and general center-of-attention-ness that she had grown quite accustomed to being without, of course, but having Ronnie nearby helped make that endurable.

It was strange, seeing him again. It had been closer to two years since he’d left for Floukru, and neither Lexa nor Clarke had seen him since. They saw a lot of him now, for the first two weeks, at least; now Helena’s captain of the guard, Ronnie was all too eager to show off the warriors he’d been training and blacksmiths he’d employed since beginning his tenure. Nearly every morning he would appear at the door of the cabin Helena had given them for their stay and coax them both out to the training field, where they would invariably be drawn into sparring with him themselves. Just like old times, he’d laughed after putting Clarke on the ground for the first time - and it was like old times. But there was still a sense of unshakeable, not-quite-rightness. 

He wears a beard now. Since when was the small, round-cheeked boy she first taught how to hold a sword capable of growing a beard?

But Ronnie does have a job, and after those first weeks he’s forced to refocus on his duties. Lexa has no duties now, a fact that she becomes acutely aware of the less she sees Ronnie and Helena and the more she’s left to mill about the city. It’s easy enough to fend off the restlessness of idle hands when they’re out in the wilderness, when they’re traveling most of the day or building a camp or hunting and foraging. Here, with no camp to set up and no work to do and everyone still pressing their hands to their hearts when she passes by, it dogs her every step. Which perhaps explains why the decision to leave comes upon her so abruptly she doesn’t so much as float the idea to Clarke before striding into their room one morning with their travel packs in hand.

"We're leaving," she says, without prompt or preamble. The bags bounce as she dumps them unceremoniously on the foot of the bed, and then leans their bows and accompanying quivers against the frame; she flips one of the bags open and starts rifling through it before Clarke can even respond.

Clarke, for her part, is still very much in that bed. Lexa has taken to walking the city early each morning, taking in the fresh summer air before the streets become too crowded, and typically leaves Clarke snoozing to do so. But, despite being curled up on her side beneath the sheets, her short curls mussed with sleep, the blonde is neither sleeping nor surprised; she merely bunches her pillow up beneath her head with one hand to angle her head towards Lexa and says, “Oh? Where are we going?”

"I thought we could head south." Lexa looks up at her without moving her head, taking in the length of her snuggled beneath light linen blankets. "Follow the river back inland, then catch the road south of Arkadia."

Clarke stretches her legs, then her arms, taking her time despite the suddenness of this declaration. Lexa’s busy with the contents of the bag, but not even she can resist letting her eyes linger as the muscles in Clarke’s arms and neck move and strain. When she does sit up she arches an eyebrow at the packs, and Lexa quickly returns her attention to her work. 

“How long?” she asks.

Lexa comes around the side of the bed to pick up a shirt left on the nightstand. "How long what?"

Clarke rolls her eyes. “How long do you plan for us to be gone? A few days? Or is this your way of telling me you’d like to leave Floukru altogether and the pre-packed bags are your way of asking me my opinion?”

That draws the former Commander up short. She puts the shirt in the open bag but doesn't sort it into the other contents, just stops for a moment and looks at it. Then she looks up at Clarke, a little sheepish. "Do you have one?"

“I don’t know.” Clarke yawns, holding a hand in front of her mouth to stifle it. “Helena expects us to be here all summer, and it’s barely been a month. I’d at least want to say a proper goodbye...” She reaches forward and wraps a hand around Lexa’s, squeezing lightly. “But I miss it too.”

Lexa sighs, offering a small smile before she lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of Clarke's knuckles. "We knew we would get restless," she says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed by Clarke. She settles their joined hands in her lap. "I did think I would last longer than this, though."

“I’m not surprised,” Clarke chuckles. “Why don’t we go for a week? We can leave word for Helena and sneak away. Maybe that will at least last us through mid-summer. What do you think?”

"Can we also sneak back?" Lexa asks, and cracks a grin. "I don't know that I could survive another welcoming banquet."

“I never thought I’d complain about food and dancing, but it does get tiring.” Clarke swings her legs over the side of the bed and grabs one of the robes that had been so haphazardly thrown to the floor the night before.

Their cabin is small, but beautiful. It consists of exactly one large room with a bathroom attached on one side. The floors, walls, and support beams are made entirely of the same light-colored wood along with two chairs, a desk, and a bed. The few colored accents around the room are either the white linen of their sheets or a light blue. But by far the most notable feature of the room is that it has only three sides. The fourth wall, directly across from their bed, isn’t a wall at all - it’s entirely open. The floor continues for a few feet, creating a short deck, and opens onto the riverbank. There are no houses or rooms on the opposite side, providing an entirely unimpeded view of the slow moving water and encroaching forest beyond.

Lexa's eyes linger on her for just a little too long, watching the dark ink of Clarke's tattoos disappear behind the light fabric of the robe. Memories of the previous night flash before her mind's eye, and she feels a pull in her navel that makes her face warm. She quickly looks away.

"To be clear, I am glad that we came here," she says, looking out over the open river view. The sound and smell of rushing water just outside their bedroom is relaxing in a way little else she's experienced has been. "It is beautiful."

“It is,” Clarke agrees, and begins pawing through the contents of her pack. “But so is everything outside of it. And as long as we don’t piss Helena off too much by running away for a bit, it will be here when we return.”

"A fair point." Lexa taps a finger against the side of the mattress. "We should probably leave a note."

Clarke grins and grabs a piece of paper from the desk. She scribbles something across it, makes a thoughtful face, and then scribbles some more. When she holds it up Lexa can see that it reads: 

Need a break from people - not you, other people. Back in a week. Love, C&L

"Why does your initial get to be first?" Lexa asks, teasingly. She stands up and crosses to Clarke, looping an arm around Clarke’s hips and drawing her to her side.

Clarke makes a hmmm sound in the back of her throat. Lexa can feel her muscles relax instantly against her arm but her eyes look far away for a moment, as if her mind were somewhere else. But in an instant the look is gone, and she turns fully to give Lexa a peck on the lips. “Come on, let’s get going before Ronnie notices we’re not just late to training.”

They won’t need their horses for so short a journey, and there’s little doubt Trimani and Blake would prefer Floukru’s warm stables to the road. Horse supplies aside, Lexa had packed nearly everything they would need already, including all of Clarke’s things. A year traveling and camping together means they know exactly what the other woman needs and uses on a daily basis. Clarke dresses quickly and pulls her bag to the far side of the room to pack a few extra items before throwing it around her shoulders. By the time she’s done Lexa stands by the door, bag on her back, quiver at her side, and bow stowed in a loop on her pack. Clarke clips her knife to the back of her belt and grabs her own bow and quiver from their place beside the door - and just like that, they’re ready to go anywhere they like. 

But when Clarke steps out onto the deck, Lexa finds her feet rooted to the spot, a frown of indecision on her forehead. Clarke turns to look at her.

"Babe?"

"Sorry..." Lexa answers, then takes a few steps towards her side of the bed. In the corner her sheathed sword leans against the side of the headboard, the only trapping of the Commander she kept with her when she left. It was the only part of the Commander that she felt was inherently part of herself.

She'd initially decided it would just be extra weight to bring with them now, especially if they are only going to be away for a week. But a sudden kick of anxiety has her reaching for it anyway.

"Alright," she says, tying the reforged blade to her belt even as she returns to Clarke. "Let's go."

Clarke gives her an understanding smile and kisses her cheek before leading the way into the woods.

Their little cabin is on the very outskirts of town with no neighbors for at least several dozen yards. Despite all their complaints of banquets and formalities, Helena clearly understood and provided for their desire to be alone and out of the way of crowds. Nevertheless, if they don't make themselves conspicuous in the city for a day or two, Helena has been known to come looking for them - and it's been at least two days since they last saw her. They hurry into the woods and are quick to cover their tracks for the first mile, hoping that will deter Helena from tracking them down.

They walk for several hours, wandering in the general direction Lexa had indicated. Clarke leads; after a year in the wild, she knows her way. The forest is thick here, with little room for them to even stand side by side, let alone wander casually. Every step is a thoughtful one, but it's worth it to experience the surrounding forest. It's beautiful and lush, overgrown in every possible way. They can hear the quiet pitter patter of feet, the soft trill of birds, but see almost no animal life as they go. Even so, the path is clear and the morning is crisp and breezy. Floukru has been a notoriously safe territory, but even so, a part of both women is listening for danger even through their easy conversation.

It's nice to be able to stretch her muscles again. Training is always a healthy and welcome outlet for the restless energy that builds when Lexa finds herself unoccupied, but it is little more than an outlet; it's satisfying to keep her skills sharp and know that she's just as deadly as ever - and for good reason, as their time wandering has proven on more than one occasion - but it isn't the same as using her body. The exertion of training is inherently artificially constructed. The strain of her muscles as they carefully make their way up a steep slope, littered in patches of old leaves that will give way under a wrong step, is far more real. And without the drain of politics occupying her waking and sleeping mind, Lexa finds that she needs that strain.

Adjusting to civilian life has brought challenges of its own.

The terrain continues to rise until they come upon the river, the sound and smell of bubbling water guiding them the last dozen yards. From there they follow its shore upstream, climbing up and down the rocks that litter it, boots crunching along the gravel that fills the space in between. It's more open on this side of the river, the tree line pulled back from its edge and the river itself spanning forty-five foliage-free feet to their left. The water bubbles as it boils over rocks and drops, forming small, lazy rapids as it makes its way back downhill to the ocean. 

Lexa forays along one such cleft, where sections of rock poke up from the water to make a broken path into the river a few steps. She listens to Clarke making her way up behind her, watches the water spill around her boots, and then says, "Do you think Ronnie is happy?"

Clarke doesn’t answer immediately and when Lexa turns to her, she’s clearly considering her answer. “I think he’s happiest when he’s in a position to protect the people he cares about,” she finally answers, “and he has that here. He seems to really love teaching, too. Training with the younger recruits, preparing them.” She keeps walking along the bank past where Lexa stands, but her voice is teasing as it carries over the water, “Funny, I wonder where he got all those qualities?”

"They are all important characteristics for a good Commander," Lexa answers, though she knows full well what Clarke means. In the time since her abdication, the jokes about their "son" and their "daughter" have not been scarce. She watches Clarke hike up a rise before she begins making her way back to solid ground. "Which he was, at one point, training to be."

"It's better that he's here," Clarke says over her shoulder and Lexa catches the edge of a grin on her face. "You Commanders are so serious all the time, it's exhausting. Being Commander would've sucked the fun right out of him."

"Excuse me," Lexa frowns in return. "I am plenty fun." 

"You're right, I suppose that was unfair." Clarke waits for Lexa to catch up, that now obviously mischievous grin still on her face. "There are some specific scenarios in which you are very fun."

"Just because I'm not Heda anymore doesn't mean you can tease me more, Clarke."

"I can tease you just as much as I always have, obviously."

Clarke leads them farther along the water until the river slowly begins to thin. The water flows less quickly and the trees begin to close in on either side of them once again. Lexa begins to hear what sounds like a far off, dull rushing sound just as Clarke asks, "Are you worried about him? Ronnie, I mean?”

"He is a perfectly capable young man," Lexa says, in a voice that doesn't exactly scream 'not worried at all' - not even to her own ears. She looks at the ground, stepping carefully on the knot of a root as she parses out what exactly she wants to say on the matter. "But he is also occupying a place no one ever has before. They all are. Nightbloods have never..." expected to live beyond their conclave, she wants to say, but even a year later she can't quite get the words out. The prospect of losing her Nightbloods that way haunts her, long after the threat of that reality has passed. "Had an occupation, other than 'Commander' or 'Commander-in-training'. We forged a new place in the world when we changed the system, but it is difficult to gauge how the world has reacted to it."

Clarke nods her understanding. "He's happy, that much seems clear. Helena seems to think he's adapting well, she told me the other day that her existing guards welcomed him immediately...but I doubt she would tell me any differently. I'm sure there's been some adjustment on their part, and for all the Nightbloods in their new positions. But Ronnie is so adaptable and charming. I have a hard time imagining him making many enemies, even if he is a sixteen year old and captain of the guard."

"Mm. I suppose I should be grateful he hasn't introduced mandatory live steel to his weapons training, or some such thing," Lexa mutters.

They walk for a time in silence, trudging side by side along the river as the sound of water grows louder. Then, after staring at the ground for a few feet, Lexa looks up and says, "I am glad he ended up with Floukru."

"Me too! It's convenient that we can visit both him and Helena at the same time." The trees get even thicker in front of them, such that the terrain underfoot is even more treacherous and demanding of their attention, but the sound Lexa had noticed earlier gets steadily louder. "I think that may have been more by design than coincidence, though."

Lexa snorts at a memory from a few days ago. "Auntie Helena," she mutters, shaking her head.

When the treeline breaks, the sound has become a roar - and they step out to find that the river has widened into a massive pool, with a waterfall tumbling fifteen, twenty feet down from a cliff on the far side. Lexa blinks at it repeatedly; this hadn't been marked on the map.

“Wow...” Clarke breathes, her eyes wide and fixated on the water. “Was this your nefarious plan, to come here? Because if so, it was a good plan.”

Lexa shakes her head, taking a few steps closer to the water's edge. "I wish I could say that it was," she says, "but I'm as surprised as you."

By the time Lexa looks up again, Clarke already has her pack off and is in the middle of slipping her shirt over her head. "What?" she asks when she sees Lexa watching her. "It's hot, we should take the opportunity to cool off."

Lexa looks around. The area seems deserted enough, and they haven't come across fresh tracks from any predators...but still... "We have no one to keep watch."

"Stop worrying." Clarke tosses her shirt at Lexa who instinctively catches it before it can smack her in the face. "We haven't seen any signs of danger all day. Besides, you have to come in with me, to make sure I don't drown."

Lexa is about to respond, until the last part catches in her head. "How is it possible," she says, sliding her own pack off her back and setting Clarke's shirt on top of it, "that even years after you fell from the sky, you still don't know how to swim?"

"Maybe because my overly cautious girlfriend has never offered to teach me." That is absolutely a lie, but Clarke winks and proceeds to rid herself of the rest of her clothing, stopping Lexa’s protest in her throat. Clarke goes on to set her pack and bow off to the side of the pool, close enough to reach from the water but not so close that there's much risk of them falling in, and sits on a long, flat rock on the side of the water, waiting expectantly. I’m 

Lexa stands, watching her with arms folded and her weight on one foot. But the silent expectation in Clarke's blue eyes, bright and dancing in the sunlight off the water, chips away at her resolve. As does the way the water moves up and over Clarke's bare legs. It is rather warm outside today...

With a put upon sigh, Lexa drops her arms to her side. "Fine," she says, removing her sword belt. "But if a bear tries to eat us, I am blaming you."

Clarke laughs. "That seems fair."

She tentatively lowers herself into the water, this close to the bank thankfully only as high as her waist. The water is calm where they are and visibly shallow, but the pool gets darker and presumably therefore much deeper toward the center and all the way to the edge of the waterfall. Clarke makes her way slowly farther in, but pauses when the water reaches up over her chest.

"How is it?" Lexa asks from the shore. She watches warily as she strips down, removing her belt, her shirt, her boots... "As refreshing as you imagined?"

"It's freezing, but in a nice way?" Clarke chuckles again, but this time there's a clear twinge of nervousness to it. "I think this is about as far as I can go though, without testing my ability to float." She turns to unabashedly watch Lexa step out of the rest of her clothes, a smile spreading across her face as she says, "Comes with a nice view, too."

"I'm sure it does," Lexa mutters to herself as she picks her way to the water's edge, and then louder: "Just don't move." Much more assured of her swimming abilities, she stretches her hands above her head and dives in, the water rushing past her ears and all around her. 

She takes a moment while she's under to open her eyes and see how deep and how steeply the land beneath drops out, then resurfaces with a burst of water by Clarke. "Hoo," she gasps, pushing her braids and loose, wet hair back over her head. "It is bracing, isn't it."

Clarke covers her eyes as water flies toward her from the movement of Lexa's hair. "Hey!"

Seeing this, Lexa grins. "What's wrong?" She asks, water dripping from her nose and chin. She uses the side of her hand to send water in Clarke's direction. "The water's crystal clear!"

"Seriously, you're going to splash me?" Clarke scoffs, but a matching grin spreads across her face. She swats water back, splashing Lexa with perhaps more water than she intended.

It catches Lexa full in the face, and she sputters.

"That's awfully brave for someone who doesn't know how to swim," she says, wiping the water from her face before - planting her feet on the stones beneath her - she launches her weight at Clarke.

"No - no, hey!!" Clarke manages to get out, but her attempt to wade out of the way is far too slow. Lexa catches her around the middle and knocks her off her feet in the process - but she lets her momentum carry her around Clarke, twisting them both to the side and putting her own back to the water. When they slow and bob, Clarke's weight floats on top of her; Clarke gets splashed, but her face comes nowhere near submerging.

Not that this prevents a momentary panic response. Clarke loops her arms around Lexa's neck and holds her tight, the anxiety in her muscles taking several, long moments of realizing she isn’t going under to eek out. They aren't yet deep enough that Lexa can't stand but it's just enough that Clarke can't - and either way, Lexa is now holding her up in the water.

"This...could be worse," Clarke says, and presses very wet lips to Lexa's nose. Lexa squinches her nose up, but continues to pull Clarke around in the water, a gentle tug that - hopefully - gives her a chance to become acquainted with the feeling of floating.

"You aren't scared?" She asks. It occurs to her only now that tackling someone who doesn't know how to swim could be a terrifying experience, and is a little sheepish that she hadn't considered that beforehand. She's certain it shows on her face, and she holds Clarke's bare body a little tighter against her.

Clarke purses her lips in thought even as she shakes her head. "No. It feels...weird. Floating. Like being in zero gravity, but a lot. Wetter." She laughs and nuzzles into the side of Lexa's neck, nipping her ear as she whispers, "But I'm never scared when you're holding me."

A gulp tightens Lexa's throat, and she's certain that Clarke will be able to feel the quickening pace of her pulse against her nose. But, despite her pinkening face, she smiles a pleased smile. "As well you should. I will never let anything hurt you. Not again."

She continues to pull Clarke through the shallow water for a while, before tugging her a little closer to shore to teach her how to float on her own. It's clear that Clarke is a little nervous about the prospect, but she's willing; between that and Lexa's help, she manages to figure it out easily enough.

"You had no bodies of water on the Ark," Lexa says, now floating beside her. They both look up at the sky above them, at the leaves on the trees as a gentle breeze makes them sway. "Yet you could float?"

"In space, there's no gravity," Clarke explains. After the initial anxiety that she somehow, spontaneously, will stop floating, Clarke seems even more relaxed than she was earlier. Her eyes are closed, sunlight slanting across her face as her arms gently sway back and forth. "Gravity is the thing that keeps us on the ground. The pressure in the air, basically, that means we can walk and run instead of floating up into the air. In space, that pressure isn't there, so you just float."

"You just float?" Lexa repeats. She has heard a number of outlandish things about the Skaikru homeland, and has generally stopped being doubtful of or surprised by them - particularly after so many of them were confirmed by her stay in Arkadia. But, as she fingers the puckered scar on her abdomen, she feels this may be a step too far for her to envision. "Above the ground, through the air, without water? Even birds need wings."

Lexa can hear more than see Clarke chuckle beside her. A hand slips over her own and entwines their fingers, pulling Lexa's shoulder flush to Clarke's. "It's hard to explain. You know how everything falls? Rain and snow fall from the sky, when you lose your balance you hit the ground, when you drop something from your hand it falls?"

Lexa frowns, uncertain where this is going. "Yes?"

 "So, there's a reason for that. The earth is a sphere," and Clarke's hand appears above them, drawing a circle in the air with her finger. "The people over here," and she indicates the top of this imaginary circle, "hit the ground when they fall just like the people over here," she points to the opposite side. "Same with rain. When it rains here, it comes from the sky and hits the ground, and when it rains here the same thing happens. The reason for that is because gravity pulls everything into the center of the earth." She makes the big circle again to emphasize her point and then points to the middle of it. "That's why birds have to have wings - their wings help them to counteract gravity, that otherwise would force them to walk on the ground like we do. But in space, there is no gravity. Nothing is pulling you one way or another, so you just...float."

Clarke turns her head just enough that she can see Lexa, but not enough to put much more of her face in water. "I realize that probably sounds insane."

Lexa is grinning, her eyebrows raised. "It sounds like magic."

"I guess it is, in a way." Clarke grins back. She moves forward, intending to kiss Lexa, but the motion causes her to lose her balance. There's a few moments of waffling, where her expression moves from pleasure to surprise to anxiety in rapid succession and her limbs flail in an effort to keep her afloat - and then she is decidedly no longer floating and instead falling beneath the water.

"Oh shit - Clarke!"

Another thing she picked up from her time with Skaikru: swearing in English.

They're far into the shallow end, so it doesn't take much to get Clarke's legs under her again. Even so Lexa moves urgently, and all but picks Clarke up to get her head above water again. When she's standing Lexa still doesn’t let go, one arm tight around Clarke's middle while her other hand pushes wet blonde curls out of her eyes. Even with her shorter hair, it's still all over her face. 

"Are you alright??"

At first it looks like Clarke may be crying - her shoulders move convulsively up and down and her face is largely obscured by her hair. But as Lexa moves it back behind her ears, it's clear that Clarke is laughing.

"I'm fine! Sorry--" she takes a deep breath, but falls victim to giggles yet again. "You," she finally breathes, "should've seen your face."

"Clarke!" Lexa says, taking a step back as concern shifts into outrage. But she can't keep it for long; even as she attempts to reprimand her, Lexa begins to laugh along. "That isn't funny! People die that way!"

“Not with an ex-Commander to protect them.” The retort is accompanied by a veritable torrent of water flung in Lexa’s direction.

"Not an." Said ex-Commander manages to not get hit full on in the face this time, getting a hand up to block the water and pushing herself back at the same time. She promptly retaliates with a splash of her own. "The."

Clarke does not manage to block it as well as Lexa had, so when she speaks she practically splutters, "Well, you won't always be the only one."

"I suppose that is the hope."

"Kita has the best warriors by her side, including most of the Nightbloods you trained." Clarke watches Lexa with a close eye, wary of further splashing retaliation, as she wades a little deeper into the water to test her newfound ability to float. If she keeps her arms moving side to side, she's able to pick up her feet and keep her head above water fairly easily. "She also has the Coalition you built, and the ability to step down if she needs or wants to, after the precedent you set. You still protect her, even from here. She'll be fine." Despite the confidence in her voice, it comes out a little more like a question than a statement.

"Precedents don't always take," Lexa says lowly. If Clarke is watching her warily, Lexa is now watching her doubly so; though she wades slowly back towards the other woman, she remains ready to make another leap if Clarke starts to go under again. "But...well. She is supremely capable, and older than I was on my Ascension day. And we left her with strong allies." Lexa's lips press together, two different types of guilt filling her lungs as she takes a slow breath in. "I know we didn't run away. But there are times that I feel…"

"Like we ran away?" Clarke reaches the rest of the way toward Lexa and pulls her forward, closing the space between them. "I feel that way too, sometimes. And maybe we did, but don't we deserve this? We've given our people everything. Nearly everything we have, except our lives - and even that was by luck more often than not. They're safe, and in good hands. We deserve to be happy. Don't you think?"

Lexa follows the tug, and bobs gently over to Clarke. She's quick to return to Clarke the use of her hands, lest she lose what buoyancy she's found, but is slower to answer. She weighs that information in her mind for what must be the hundredth, thousandth, ten-thousandth time; information that she had already deemed good enough to make such a massive decision over a year ago. And then she swims yet closer to Clarke, crooks a small smile, and says something she never thought she would have reason to say.

"Ask me again when we're old and grey."

And she kisses her.

Clarke once again wraps her arms around her neck. She's hardly keeping herself afloat at this point, mostly relying on Lexa to keep her above the water, but she seems unperturbed. When she finally pulls away it's only far enough to be able to look into Lexa's eyes. They have that look in them again that they did this morning - thoughtful and a little uncertain, but this time it doesn't seem like her mind takes her far away. Her blue eyes are very much focused on Lexa's, reflecting the lighter, sun-kissed blue of the pool. When she smiles, they somehow sparkle even more than the water around them.

"Think we'll still be wandering around the world by then? Nomads, popping into polite society only as often as absolutely necessary?"

"I'm imagining a cabin," Lexa answers, giving voice to a mental image she’s only been able to revisit in the last few weeks. Planning for far flung days in the future has never been a luxury she's had, even in the years since Roan’s usurpation; she's still getting used to the idea. "Somewhere in the mountains. Or on an island, perhaps - it does not matter much to me, so long as it is extremely difficult to get to. Such that only those who are truly dedicated to finding us will even attempt to do so."

As she speaks, she releases Clarke - leaving her to do all of the holding on with her arms around her neck - and does a few, lazy backstrokes to pull them further out into the water. The surface of it begins to waver, the rush of the waterfall rippling out into gentle rolls that lap at their shoulders and necks. "Perhaps we'll leave a map for Ronnie and Kita, to that effect."

"We better! I don't think I could agree to this plan if I could never see them again. And perhaps a few select friends. Helena and Raven might cause a riot if we disappeared..." even as Clarke points out these flaws, there's a grin on her face. It turns to a frown, however, as she looks up at the waterfall and her eyes squint in confusion.

Lexa reflexively looks over her shoulder, spinning them both in the water to get a better view. "What's wrong?"

"Hey!" Clarke clutches at Lexa's neck, clearly not expecting her life raft to spin around so quickly. "It's nothing, it's just...that log must've fallen down the waterfall into this pool, but it looks like it's stuck on something behind it…"

Still not quite paying attention, Lexa's hand settles on Clarke's lower back in response to her sudden cling, as though that alone would further secure her. Rather than look at her or respond however, she narrows her eyes at the log Clarke has indicated. She doesn’t dare get much closer to the foot of the waterfall with Clarke in tow, but it is tempting because... "Does that something look like a cave to you?"

"It seems likely. But we have no idea what's in the cave…"

Finally turning to look at her again, Lexa shrugs - gently enough so as not to dislodge Clarke again. "We could find out."

"We could." Despite her apparent reservations, Clarke's voice is excited. She tugs gently on Lexa's shoulders back toward the shallow part of the pool. "You have to drop me off, though. Looks like we could climb around the edge and at least be able to see behind."

"Do I now?" Lexa asks, choosing to acknowledge only one part of that sentence. Of course, she's already turned and started backstroking to shore as she says, "You know, most of my people learn to swim because they're tossed in the water without assistance."

"Given everything I've come to learn about Grounders, that's perhaps the least surprising and one of the more tame educational techniques I've heard of."

"Would you like to try it?" Lexa teases - and feigns like she's dislodging her. Clarke immediately shrieks and scrambles to get a better hold on her shoulders, sending water flying everywhere.

"No!" Between her flailing and the now vice-like grip around her neck, Clarke is, in fact, making it more difficult to keep them afloat. Not that Lexa’s able to quite convey that to her before she realizes she’s not being dumped and settles again, a slight embarrassment settling into her features. "Um...No, thanks, I uh. I think I'll just learn at my own pace."

“Alright, alright,” Lexa sighs, but a wide smile refuses to shrink from her face - no matter how put-upon she wants to be. “Just please, hold still.”

The series of rocks that Clarke initially sat on is flat and smooth, long since warmed by the daytime sun. Almost hot to the touch, it is the perfect place for them both to emerge and stretch out, Lexa to rest her muscles and both of them to dry. When they're more damp than wet, Lexa gets half dressed - she pulls on her pants, her boots, and binds her chest again - and takes on the initiative of exploring the possible cave entrance. Clarke lingers by the foot of the escarpment, watching warily as Lexa picks her way up a path of tumbled rocks and boulders towards a gap between the cliff face and the falling water.

The rock shelf gets narrower the closer Lexa comes to the waterfall, and several times she nearly slips and falls into the pool. Clarke doesn't seem particularly concerned until Lexa reaches the edge of the falls, inch by inch disappearing behind them. If she falls now, she'll be pushed instantly under a cascade of pounds and pounds of water pressure. Even Lexa, strong as she is, would have a hard time combatting a waterfall. Lexa can see in Clarke's body language that she's growing increasingly anxious, but she's just so close…

She turns to face the cliff, her fingers dragging across damp stone as she inches along the last of the shelf. Getting to the cave mouth requires her to stretch a leg across a gap a few inches wide, and she tests her footing on the far side before throwing her weight over.

And then she's on stable ground. Crouching in the darkness, the sound of water rushing behind her and misting across her back, Lexa takes a tool from her belt that they long ago stole from Skaikru. She gives the flashlight a shake to ensure it's "charged," then turns it on.

"I'm in," she calls back to Clarke after ensuring with a sweep of the beam that she's alone. "And it appears to be empty."

"Be careful!" Lexa can hear Clarke shout back through the thunder of pounding water.

A circuit of fifty or so paces covers the entirety of the cave and then some. It isn't huge, but it's surprisingly large given its location. What's even more surprising is the lack of evidence that anyone or anything has been here recently. Lexa would have guessed that at least a bear or mountain lion or other large creature would've made this its home at some point, but she sees no indication that has ever been the case. Perhaps it's too treacherous for animals to get to, or so hidden that it's escaped notice. Either way, aside from moss and lichen growing on the walls and ceiling, no one and nothing else is here.

She calls back to Clarke to grab rope from their packs, and after a few tries they manage to swing one end up to where she stands at the cave's mouth. She secures it on her side and Clarke does the same on hers, giving them a tool to make climbing up a little easier. Nevertheless, she still stands by the edge to help Clarke up and in.

"See?" She asks, lingering by the entrance as Clarke takes a turn around the space. "Strangely empty."

Clarke takes her time investigating the cave, but ultimately agrees. "Maybe no one has ever found it. I don't think I would've noticed this was here if not for the log getting stuck, and animals would have a hard time crossing that ledge on four paws." 

Of course, most animals with four paws are far more agile on them than humans are on two - but Lexa resists mentioning this.

She watches instead as Clarke moves back to the entrance of the cave and stoops to examine the ledge in question. Aside from the scuffs their boots just left on the moss and algae, there doesn't appear to be any sign that an animal or person has entered the cave before. Still, Clarke seems wary, perhaps of the strange emptiness or from the torrent of rushing water just inches from her shoulder. "Should we head back?" She takes a few steps back from the waterfall, watching it as she goes. 

"We could." Lexa lingers at her side, ignoring the waterfall in favor of watching her. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"No, I don't think so." Clarke meets Lexa's eyes. "As long as we stay a safe distance from the possibility of falling into that, I'm fine. I thought you'd want to be on our way." She cocks her head, now considering Lexa's expression. "But now you seem hesitant to go."

Lexa lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I suppose I am. I have never discovered anything like this before," she says, and turns to press a hand to the jagged cave wall. The stone is cool to the touch, a welcome relief from the heat outside. That she hasn’t discovered much of anything before, her Nightblood having condemned her to an exploration-less childhood, hangs unsaid in the air. "I think it is..." she weighs a few words before settling on one of Clarke's: "Cool."

Clarke's lips press together and her eyes light up, as if she's trying her very best to suppress a laugh. "Oh? It's cool? It's a cool cave?"

Lexa turns to look at her again, a small grin of her own quirking up the corner of her lips. "Yes, it's cool. It is a cool cave."

"Well in that case, I think we have to stay."

Knowing she's being teased, Lexa is compelled to justify herself further. "It is a secure location - we already know that. There's fresh water, it's well ventilated, it provides plenty of protection from the sun and heat…"

"All true," Clarke nods along, "and it's far enough away from any towns or villages, I doubt anyone knows about it. Seems like you've found your ideal hiding place."

"Just about..." Lexa says, and begins mentally mapping the cave interior. They didn't exactly bring a cabin with them, but they have plenty of things to make the space a little homier. 

Once they've retrieved their packs, spread out their bedrolls, and lit a lantern, Lexa stretches out on one of them. She tucks one hand behind her head and drapes the other one across her bare stomach, and takes a moment to enjoy the sound of the rushing water, the play of the firelight on the roof of the cave, and the utter peace of it all. 

Clarke hasn't laid down beside her; in fact, Lexa can still hear her rummaging through packs and poking at the fire. Lexa has discovered over the past year that Clarke has a tendency to obsess over their campfires, ensuring the kindling is just so, that there's no chance it might reach outside the ring of stones or deep pit they usually build, that the wood they choose is bone dry with no moss or other flora covering it. Lexa is used to it by now, but what she isn't used to is the soft puff of fire coming to life, one right after the other, accompanied by a new series of smaller, softer lights that illuminate the stone roof above her.

She frowns her confusion and lifts her head to look. "Clarke?"

Around the cave are placed various tall, round candles that Clarke appears to be systematically lighting. The base of each candle is wide enough that they're able to stand on their own, and Clarke has placed them well away from their packs and bedrolls. The ones she's already lit on the far side of the room throw dancing shadows across the walls of the cave.

"I packed them this morning," Clarke explains as she gets closer to where Lexa is lying. Her face looks a little red, even in the firelight. "I didn't know if we'd have anywhere safe to put them,  I thought maybe we could stick one or two in the ground...I didn't imagine we'd have enough non-flammable space for all of them…"

Lexa's stomach does a little dance, and she feels her own face warm in turn. There have been multiple occasions on which Clarke has teased her - or worse - about her fondness of candles. Being surrounded by them at most times is never something Clarke has actively wanted, or even understood. But as each new little flame adds itself to the light in the cave, and the faint smell of smoke floats on the air, Lexa feels her heart warm.

"You...brought all these? For me?" She smiles, watching Clarke light another. "You? Commander of Fire Prevention?"

Clarke scoffs at the title, even as she very carefully rights a teetering candle. "It's better than Commander of Death, I suppose," she mutters as she goes. A few seconds later, "I hoped we'd find a good place to use a few of them, even if we kept them near enough to us to keep an eye on. I know how much you like them, and given how few opportunities we've had to sleep inside, let alone somewhere with enough candles for your liking..."

The last candle finally lit, Clarke makes her way back to the bedrolls and takes a seat on her own beside Lexa. "I asked Helena to bring me some, but she told me not to use them in our room, with the whole thing being made of wood and all, which really defeated the purpose of having them. So when you suggested leaving for a while, I thought I may as well bring them."

Lexa smiles and, reaching out to a hook a hand behind Clarke's neck, tugs her in for a kiss. "Thank you, Ai Etwai, " she says softly against her lips. "It's very sweet of you."

Clarke leans into the kiss, now half on her own bedroll and half on Lexa's. "Don't get used to it," she murmurs between breaths, which inspires a chuckle from Lexa. She pulls her down, the hand on the back of her neck joined by one on Clarke's hip to tug her along as Lexa lays back. 

"I think it may be too late for that," she says, and kisses Clarke again with a grin still on her lips.

Clarke settles immediately into Lexa, their bodies flush against each other in a way that is, at this point, intensely familiar. They lay together for a time, the candlelight playing off the ceiling and the waterfall rushing in their ears, and exchange lazy, indulgent kisses...until something stirs in Lexa, and she moves from Clarke's lips to her chin, around to her ear and down her neck in that way that never fails to elicit soft whimpers from Clarke.

"You know," Clarke says between somewhat shaky breaths, "this does mean that - mmm. There's no one on watch duty."

"Does it?" Lexa hums, paying special attention to the thrum of Clarke's pulse beneath her skin. Her heartbeat, steady or elevated, is always a comfort; their world may pose less of an existential threat to them these days, but the reminder that Clarke is strong and alive and very much with her is never unwelcome. "What is 'this,' exactly?"

"You know exactly what you're doing," Lexa can't see Clarke's expression, but she doesn't need to - she can perfectly imagine the look on Clarke's face. "You always do this, luring me in with your kisses, then pretending it was all my idea. 'Clarke, you're so reckless - Clarke, what would've happened if a bear showed up - Clarke, a hunter would be able to hear you from twelve miles away--'"

Lexa sucks a sudden and sharp bruise into her neck, drawing an "ah!" from Clarke that cuts off whatever else she was about to say. 

"I believe I said yards, not miles," Lexa says then, soothing the spot with her tongue. Clarke isn't wrong, of course; recklessness is - somewhat - new to Lexa, a skill that has been developing since being with Clarke. But nothing has ever been gained from letting Clarke have an easy victory.

Clarke turns her head back to face Lexa, just far enough that Lexa's lips can no longer reach her skin, a smirk on her face. "Twelve yards? That's not far at all." She grasps Lexa's jaw in her left hand and pushes her chin - not harshly, but not gently either - back, exposing her neck. Clarke kisses her way back along Lexa's jaw until Lexa can feel her teeth graze her ear. "I think you're selling yourself short," Clarke whispers.

Lexa feels heat rise under her skin, and her mouth goes dry - and it isn't only because of the touch of teeth at her earlobe. It's little question that she takes pride in everything she does, and strives to be the best she can be in all of it. It turns out that making Clarke feel good is no exception - and so, just like everything else, she enjoys being told that she's successful in it. This enjoyment is a little different, however. Beating an opponent in a duel generally doesn't make her stomach jump this way.

Her other hand joins the one at Clarke's hip, thumbs sliding over her hip bones through the thin fabric of underwear as her fingers find their way over the swell of Clarke's ass. Clarke has always had an amazing ass.

"We could test that theory again, if you'd like," Lexa says, giving it a squeeze. "And if a bear attacks, this time it will be my fault."

Clarke responds by grinding her hips harder against Lexa's. Her left hand still has a firm hold on Lexa's jaw and her mouth continues nipping and sucking down Lexa's neck - but with all her weight on Lexa, her right is free to move where it likes. She moves her knee between Lexa's legs to give herself more stability and deftly removes the wrap around Lexa's breasts. 

"I doubt even a bear could hear me over a waterfall," Clarke says, a familiar smile on her face as she sits up to quickly remove and toss the clothing aside. "But I do like a challenge."

With her head free again, Lexa surges up with her. She wraps her arms around Clarke's back, pressing her in against her chest as she cranes her neck upwards to kiss her. She catches Clarke's lip between her teeth, her fingers pressing long lines into familiar skin as she feels her way down Clarke's back, over the little scars and imperfections that mark her; that make her unique. She could sculpt this back from clay she knows it so well - and if she had any talent at anything other than the military arts, she might attempt it. But for now, she is content with the little gasp that she catches from Clarke's mouth.

"I thought you might," Lexa answers with a grin. It's a wicked little thing, an expression that she had long lost and found again under Clarke's careful tutelage - and she smiles it now as her thumbs hook into the sides of Clarke's underwear, drawing it down her bare thighs.

Clarke makes a pleased sound around her bitten lip. Her hands move to cup either side of Lexa's face and tilts it back just slightly, enough to give her tongue deeper access as she forcefully kisses her. Lexa's muscles relax under the commanding power of Clarke's kiss, which means she's only managed to get Clarke's underwear about halfway down her thighs before Clarke is suddenly no longer there.

Though she could never match Lexa's speed or strength, Clarke knows exactly how to get what she wants. Which makes her now standing in front of Lexa, underwear only halfway down her thighs, that same smile still on her swollen lips, perhaps as unsurprising as it is attractive.

"Not yet," Clarke says, and makes a tsk sound against her teeth. She doesn't even have to bend over or use her hands; she just moves her hips and her underwear falls, impossibly slowly, to the ground. "I think we'll have to work up an appetite first."

Lexa knows that she watched her watch that little scrap of cloth, eyes following every second of its achingly slow descent, because when she looks back up - eyes now hesitating on what's been newly exposed, her mouth no longer dry - Clarke is smirking at her. She feels her face heat under that gaze, and her hands, empty of Clarke, fall uselessly to her sides.

"First?" She repeats, eyes flicking back down. She is certainly imagining the shimmer of dampness inside Clarke's thighs, but there is little doubt about her own arousal. She can feel it in the pit of her stomach and in the race of her heart. "I believe we've checked that off the list already."

"Mmmmm, maybe." Clarke's smirk remains on her face but unlike Lexa's wandering gaze, Clarke's eyes are focused on Lexa's. "But not enough."

Clarke had opted that morning for a cream-colored linen shirt. Before they'd gone swimming she also had a tank top on under it but now, with the sunlight filtering through the waterfall combined with the glow of firelight on the cave walls, Lexa can see through Clarke's shirt entirely. Not that that stops her from unbuttoning it tantalizingly slowly.

"This is a very loud waterfall," Clarke's point is punctuated by the fact that she's speaking at a regular volume, despite how close they are. "I think you might," another button, "need to be a little hungrier," a third, "to make that happen." By the time she gets two-thirds of the way down, Clarke stops. She kneels in front of Lexa, that damn smirk still on her face. "I can help with that," and Clarke only flicks the last button open when Lexa meets her eyes again.

Lexa groans, and she isn't even being touched.

She once heard Raven describe Clarke's chest as "that good earth cleavage" while the three of them were still in Arkadia. While the exactitude of what "earth cleavage" is has continued to escape Lexa - is all cleavage on earth not “earth cleavage”? - she cannot deny the appreciation that was evident in the comment; if Clarke's ass is good, her breasts are absolutely heart-stopping. Metaphorically, of course.

Or possibly literally. With the way her heart is ramming against her ribs, that may yet be up for debate.

"How much hungrier, precisely?" Lexa asks, and can't even be embarrassed when her voice comes out strained. The heels of her hands are pressed hard into the cave floor, her elbows locked at her sides, unable to stand the possibility of being turned away if she reached for her now. That, and a distinct disinterest in putting too quick an end to this exquisite torture has her holding perfectly, carefully still.

"We'll see." Clarke's pupils visibly dilate as they rake across Lexa's torso, taking in and appreciating the strain of Lexa's muscles against her skin. Her voice changes unnervingly quickly from its playful tone to a more commanding register: "Lie down."

It may not have the same quality that Clarke describes of Lexa's, but it raises goosebumps on her flesh nonetheless. She can feel them rise immediately, a tingle across her neck, back, and arms. Wetting her lips with her tongue, Lexa nods and, without breaking eye contact, obeys.

Clarke moves to the side to allow Lexa the freedom to do as she's asked. Once she's fully lying down, however, Clarke adjusts her position and with practiced ease swings her leg over, effectively straddling Lexa's stomach. Still sitting up on her knees, Clarke's body is now perfectly visible to Lexa - as is the entire production of her stripping off her somewhat damp shirt.

Seemingly of their own accord, Lexa's hands eventually can't take the lack of contact and move to grip Clarke's thighs - and Clarke immediately stops. Her shirt is nearly off, only the last bit of a sleeve caught on her wrist, but she stops nonetheless. There's a dangerous glint to her blue eyes as they move to Lexa's hands. With impressive speed she grasps both Lexa's wrists, thumbs pressed tightly against the veins on the inside of her arm. "I don't remember saying that you could touch me."

Lexa groans again, but this time with a note of distress predominant in the sound. She tries to take her hands away, fully planning to sit on them lest they misbehave again, but Clarke's thumbs only dig deeper. The pressure sits right on that soft spot between the bone, and the tighter Clarke grips the more it stings. So Lexa winces and gives up, her head rolling back.

"This is cruel," she whines, eyes closing. "And unfair. This is cruelly unfair."

"Unfair? I don't think so." Using mostly her abs so as not to put weight on Lexa's arms, Clarke places Lexa's hands up and behind her head. Her body moves downward as she does and the space between her legs, already wet, grinds into Lexa's stomach muscles. "Cruel, maybe. But only if you misbehave." 

Clarke's movements force Lexa's arms to extend high above her head. With her fingers still enclosed around Lexa's wrists, Clarke's breasts brush over Lexa's chest and rest on her collarbone, their faces now just a few inches apart as she places Lexa's hands where she wants them. She recognizes their old game long before Clarke speaks.

"Don't move these." Clarke's eyes bore into Lexa's, all lust and excitement and above all, expectation. Clarke's voice allows no doubt that her expectation is to be obeyed. "Understand?"

A sword, a bullet, and an actual war couldn't kill her - but this woman might.

The position forces her torso to elongate, the muscles in her sides and abdomen stretching tight. One of her knees bends a little to compensate, and it takes every ounce of self control - a miracle, really - to stop herself from lifting her hips in that moment. It isn't at all where she wants Clarke to be, on multiple counts, but the warmth between Clarke's legs, pressed into her bare skin, begs her to answer. Or she begs to answer it. Either way, she has to twist her fingers together and tense every muscle in her lower body to remain still. 

Her eyes dip at the touch of skin against her collarbones, and Lexa's mouth waters at the thought of being able to kiss those breasts. They press full, soft, and heavy into her skin, and if she could just get her tongue on them she might be content--

But Clarke presses her thumbs into her wrists once more to gain her attention, and Lexa's eyes shoot back up immediately. "Sha, Klark," she says, and though her voice is made strong by the desire aching through her, her submission is clear. Hunger, indeed.

Clarke grins, clearly pleased at Lexa's response. "Good," and she releases Lexa's hands.

True to her word, they stay where Clarke placed them as she traces her fingers back down the length of Lexa's arms, still largely keeping herself upright with the strength of her abs. She pauses at Lexa's shoulders and uses one hand to hold herself up and with the other grasps the back of Lexa's head. Clarke's thumb hooks beneath her jaw, allowing her to move it as she sees fit. For now though, Clarke seems content to crush her lips against Lexa's in a bruising kiss.

It tickles, that light touch on such sensitive skin, but Lexa can only flinch a little before harshness replaces it. The transition is a little head-spinning, and it means that Lexa isn't ready when Clarke's lips seal over hers. Caught on an exhale, it is a much shorter time than it should be before Lexa is straining for breath - and with her arms above her, there's nothing she can do about it.

And with every second that she feels this vulnerable, this helpless beneath Clarke - orchestrated as she knows it is - her need grows. Odd, to think that the same person who once ruled the world would turn to a puddle when made helpless, and yet Lexa finds herself pressing her thighs together in her effort not to move.

When Clarke finally takes a breath herself, Lexa inhales in a torrent of breath. Clarke doesn't even stop to notice, only roughly moves her head to the side as she nips and bites her way down the opposite side of Lexa's jaw. Down to her ear, where she pauses before making her way down her neck and along her collarbone. 

It would be impressive, the way Clarke is able to keep so much of her body moving independently - if Lexa had the ability to objectively consider anything in this moment. The opposite hand that had been holding her weight moves to grasp Lexa's side, forcing Clarke to put all of her weight on Lexa but providing better leverage for the rest of her movements. All the while, Clarke's core is pressed against Lexa’s stomach, grinding slowly.

Her arms are stretched far enough that her hands are above the top of her bedroll, leaving Lexa's fingers to scramble in the dust that layers the cave floor to find some kind, any kind of purchase. One hand does find the raised edge of a crack in the floor, while the other finds a loose stone a little smaller than her palm. She presses the jagged edges into her skin, as though the prick of them will remind her to stay still - but that, it turns out, is a losing battle. With the weight of Clarke on her torso, her arms trapped above her head, and the heat and wetness of her gathering on her stomach, Lexa can't help but press her hips upwards. It's a quick thing, a single pump into the air as a strangled sound leaves her lips, and is just enough to release the tension she needs to be able to remain still afterwards. It doesn't even connect with any of Clarke, her hips clear and away behind Clarke's thighs, but she nevertheless finds herself hoping, praying that it isn't enough to make her stop.

It doesn’t seem like it is, at first. Clarke makes a threatening sound in the back of her throat, but doesn’t immediately stop her steady path down Lexa’s chest. Until she reaches her breasts and swirls her tongue around a nipple - and then pulls away. Clarke sits up entirely and leans back on Lexa’s hips. She shakes her head, a look more like pleasure than disappointment on her face as she says, “I thought we talked about touching.” She pushes herself up and off of Lexa and hooks her fingers through the belt loops on Lexa’s pants. “I’m going to need these now.”

The slick spot on Lexa's stomach begins to instantly cool, and she rolls her head back again with a groan of frustration. "Take them, then," she says, in truth glad to be rid of them. "Quickly - please."

Clarke's eyebrows raise at the quick adjustment from command to request and for a moment, Lexa is sure Clarke will stop - but then her pants are sliding down her thighs and in an instant are off. Clarke discards them, but to where Lexa can't see without moving. Hopefully not into the waterfall, but she wouldn't put it past her.

"Much better," Clarke purrs as her eyes unabashedly rake across Lexa's body. She straddles Lexa again, this time directly above her hips. Clarke sits up, obviously aware of what resting on top of Lexa's hips will do to her. Instead, she leans forward and drags the fingertips of her left hand over Lexa's stomach and chest while her right reaches out and picks up one of several candles within arms reach.

"It occurs to me," Clarke examines the candle in her hand, even as languid fingers make their way to Lexa's breasts to play with her nipples, "candles provide more than just a light source. I think they might be far more entertaining than I gave them credit for."

Lexa tips her head back down and watches warily. Her grip on the stone and ground loosen, the lessened stimulus enough to let her catch her breath. Even so, with her torso stretched out like it is, Clarke would be able to feel and see every move of her rib cage.

"Is that so?" Lexa asks quietly. Her eyes linger on the candle's flame, uncertain what on Earth Clarke might have in mind. For a moment she considers that it might be the fire itself, and a spike of uncertainty sends adrenaline running through her veins - but she trusts Clarke. Trusts her, by now, after all this time, to know what she likes and know what her limits are. So while she gulps at the prospect, she is not afraid.

Though Clarke appears thoughtful as she watches Lexa's reaction, her movements are deliberate. Her hand makes its way down to Lexa's stomach even as she tips the candle sideways. Lexa has only a moment to realize what's happening before a stream of wax falls in a line just above her navel.

The shock of it causes her to jump and gasp. Her legs pull in so her feet are flat and knees bent, while her hips flinch under Clarke’s weight. Her arms do the same, her fingers catching on the top of her bedroll - but never falling below her head.

It hurts, of course, the burn of it, but it's...strangely pleasant. Like the ache of tired muscles after a workout but concentrated into a single moment, giving her that same satisfaction as she pushes her mind up and over it. And then the burn is gone, the wax cooling quickly away from the flame, and her body relaxes with a sigh.

"That...is new," she says, the words more breath than voice as she stretches her legs and arms out again. Though the pain disappears the adrenaline it brought makes her feel alert and alive, her nerves awake and body thrumming with the momentary high of it.

From the look on Clarke's face, Lexa's reaction was all she was hoping for and then some. She touches the smooth surface of the cooled wax over Lexa's abdomen but doesn't crack or move it. "That was new."

Clarke doesn't ask for permission, not under these circumstances. Lexa has never had trouble speaking up if she's uncomfortable, and the handful of times Clarke has pushed her too far she spoke up immediately. But even so, when they try something new Clarke always pays special attention to Lexa's reactions. Looking for any sign of uncertainty or nerves, any indication that whatever fear or pain she's feeling is too much. 

Which may be why she pauses and places the candle to the side. Clarke slides back along the outside of Lexa's thighs, sure to keep as much of her touching the other woman as possible. It takes only a slight nudge of her knee between Lexa's legs before she's immediately granted access. Clarke kisses her way up Lexa's torso as she settles on top of her, her stomach muscles now pressed solidly against Lexa's core. "I certainly enjoyed it," she says even as her hand moves back out to grab another of the candles, "so I think we'll have to try it again."

"Will we no-- ah!"  

As another stream of stinging wax lands on the bottom of her ribcage, Lexa's body tenses again. Her head angles back, her spine arching. Both of her hands twist around the rock she'd found, the edges pressing into one palm as she strains to keep her arms stretched over her head. But most importantly, her hips lift again, pressing her center up against Clarke's navel and sending a jolt of pleasure up through her stomach. For a fleeting moment, it's relief. And then, just like the pain, it's gone - replaced with a need for more contact that's twice as strong as it was before.

"Fok, Klark," she gasps to the cave ceiling.

A growl escapes Clarke's throat and she places a particularly vicious bite on her way to Lexa's breasts...and follows each bite and nip along the trail with drips of wax as she goes. Lexa isn't able to see how she's managing this, and not being able to see means it's a surprise every time the hot wax hits her skin. Clarke pulls one of Lexa's nipples into her mouth and plays with it with her tongue. When Lexa's breathing hitches, she bites down with her teeth - hard. And then immediately Clarke's mouth is gone, replaced by a stream of hot wax over her nipple.

Lexa cries out, and writhes. Her fingers catch on the crack in the rock again, but the rest of her can't help but move; the stimulus is too much - rapidly oscillating between pleasure and pain has her head in a fog, her nerve endings alight and burning everywhere beneath her skin, not just beneath the wax. The only thing she can concentrate on is the press of stone against her fingertips. Everything else is a lost cause.

Which only serves to add fuel to the fire. For as she twists, her torso, hips, and legs responding to each new section of the trail of wax, her core continues to move against Clarke. Each time Clarke shifts down, taking the gathered dampness with her, she is quick to lay her torso against her again. The new spot quickly becomes slick, and Lexa finds herself pressing her hips forward, rhythmically moving against whatever part of Clarke she can find in the hope of more contact, more friction, more relief. And each time, the spark of pleasure mixes with the sting of the wax and of Clarke's bites, and pushes her closer to overstimulation.

"Beja," she gasps, words babbling from her lips without thought or permission. "Beja, Klark, please--"

Clarke instantly pushes herself up on her hands, ceasing nearly all contact with Lexa's skin - earning a strangled whine from the ex-Commander. She chuckles as she moves down Lexa's now bruised and reddening body. "I could listen to you beg all day." Clarke sits back on her knees, Lexa fully spread out in front of her. "But since you have been so very good..."

There's only one candle left near them with any wax in it. Clarke holds it in her left hand and drips it sparingly along Lexa's hipbone and down her thigh - and at the same time, careful not to touch her clit, inserts two fingers inside her.

A raw, shuddering cry escapes Lexa's lips then. Overwhelming sensation, then shocking lack of sensation, and now - she can feel Clarke's fingers slide in, feel them stretching her before sinking further. The wax, hottest from being closest to the wick, sears this most sensitive of skin with a much more acute sting. It's almost too much for her to handle. Her fingernails bite into a crack in the floor as though she were dangling over a thousand foot drop and it was the only thing keeping her from falling. Her hips move even before the wax is gone, unable to help herself as she presses herself down on Clarke's fingers, gasping again as she feels her even deeper still.

Despite Clarke's characteristic control, she's panting as she takes in the scene in front of her. She takes her time, but Lexa can feel in the way Clarke grips her thigh, candle discarded - the way her fingernails dig into her skin and the fingers inside her curl inwards - Clarke is just as close to giving in as Lexa is eager for her to do so.

Impressively, Lexa doesn't feel Clarke's fingers move much at all inside her as Clarke adjusts her position. Even as Clarke's nose presses against the inside of Lexa's thighs, still she waits. Clarke's breath against her core elicits another whimper from the ex-Commander. Never taking her eyes off Lexa and, more importantly, alerting her that even now she's watching to ensure her arms stay extended above her head...Clarke sucks Lexa's swollen clit into her mouth.

It's enough to make her cry out again, and any semblance of self control is gone.

Lexa has an iron will. She had it when she was a child, she had it as Commander, and she will undoubtedly have it until the day she breathes her last. But even that will has a breaking point and, despite the warning glance from Clarke, she doesn't have it in her to hold still. Sweat beads on her forehead, her back, between her breasts, her eyes press close as her face twists with the feel of Clarke, and after two strokes of Clarke's tongue she's broken. Her hands fly from above her, stone flying from her grasp, her triceps screaming their protest after holding that tense position for so long, and seek purchase on Clarke's hands. Her nails press into the skin stretched taught over Clarke's knuckles, and she cries again through teeth clamped onto her own lower lip.

Clarke immediately stops. She doesn't retract her fingers, but moves her mouth away from Lexa and catches her desperate green eyes in a steely gaze. The sentiment is clear without Clarke having to utter a word: I told you not to move them.

Lexa briefly considers rebelling. Well, begging, really; it's one thing when this is the only rule she needs to maintain, but with the wax as well...

But the wax has all cooled, leaving drops and pools gathered across her skin in soft, glossy white. The high of it remains and there is a stinging pull on the skin beneath it, but the conflicting stimuli have for the most part subsided. She decides that maybe this isn't worth the fight. Closing her eyes, Lexa sets her jaw against the stiffness in her arms and fingers, and raises her hands back above her head.

And just like that, Clarke's mouth is back on Lexa's clit. This time she doesn't bother teasing or taking her time - Clarke's tongue presses against Lexa, swirling in a practiced pattern that she wouldn't have to think about if she didn't want to. But it's clear that she does, and is, paying very careful attention to her actions. And that attention manifests in a uniquely aggressive and unrelenting sort of way.

That pattern has finished Lexa off in mere minutes before; it's among her favorites, hitting all of the places that make her shudder in all the right ways. But in this case, the focus of it, the unrelenting intensity of each stroke of Clarke's tongue and fingers, pressing on her from both sides, painstakingly draws out the experience. In a true rarity for her, there is not a single thought that crosses Lexa's mind. No thoughts, no words, only an awareness of the sounds she's making and the shock of pleasure that comes from every one of Clarke's movements - and the mounting tension in the core of her.

She can't help but move, her hips now pulling just a little away from Clarke's mouth, then pushing forward, not with any particular plan in mind but just the feel of it. And with each shift, she pushes herself along Clarke's fingers, already moving on their own, and sometimes surprising her with the new depth and new places that they reach. Her mouth can't form words anymore, only sounds: moans, gasps, small cries from the back of her throat. And all the while the pressure builds. Every muscle tightens as she feels the end coming. She can see it coming from a mile off, feels a spike of anticipation and desperation at its approach, and then--

At first, Lexa can't even make a sound. Her back arches, her thighs close around Clarke's head as her feet struggle to find purchase, and she tosses her head back...but only a strangled sound comes out. As the shockwave sets in, as her body trembles and her hands scramble for something, anything to hold onto, her voice returns with a cry that surely would have carried if not for the waterfall. She catches the top of the bedroll in a death grip as her hips lift and twist and all of her shudders, all of her shudders in the small oblivion of orgasm.

Clarke has her free hand hooked around Lexa's hips, keeping her as pressed against her mouth as possible even as her movements make it nearly impossible. When Lexa's muscles finally begin to relax, still Clarke doesn't stop. Not until her cries and moans of pleasure turn to whimpers, and her legs relax around Clarke's head. She takes her time, bringing Lexa back down with careful, practiced ease. Eventually she removes her fingers altogether, which elicits only a small sound from above.

A quiet chuckle tickles the skin of Lexa's stomach as Clarke looks up and sees that Lexa's arms, miraculously, are still above her head. Clarke reaches up and carefully pulls them back down, aware of how strained and tired they must be. Otherwise she doesn't say anything, only lets Lexa relax and enjoy post-orgasm bliss as she gently kisses her way up Lexa's chest.

Lexa lies completely still in the meantime, aside from the rapid rise and fall of her chest that gradually, finally subsides. She moves one finger against the edge of the bedroll on her side, checking to ensure her nerves still work; after all that, she wouldn't be surprised if they went numb for a day, completely fried out.

"Gada," she says - mumbles, really, boneless as she is - without opening her eyes, "Yu gon frag ai op."

Clarke laughs and kisses Lexa's lips tenderly. "I would never hurt you, my love," she whispers in Trigadasleng. "Not permanently, anyway."

"Mm." Lexa lifts her arms - carefully, as they still protest their stiffness - and wraps them around Clarke's back, hugging the other woman to her. She can feel the dried wax pressing between them in the process, but she doesn't much care. Even if she did, she wouldn't have the energy for it. "Bold words, in a world like ours."

"I'm just thankful the biggest threat you face these days is whether or not I injure you during sex." Clarke nuzzles her nose into Lexa's neck and breathes deeply. Her arms curl around Lexa in kind. Clarke is gentle with her, but the grip of her fingers and tightness in her arms suggests a possessiveness that Lexa is not unfamiliar with.

Some might even say she's fond of it.

Lexa tips her head down, and presses a kiss to the top of Clarke's head. Her hair glows a molten gold in the firelight. 

"Speaking of," she says, grinning and angling her head to the side. There's no way she can see Clarke's face from where she is, but Clarke figures out what she wants and lifts her own head, resting her chin on Lexa's chest. "Where did all that come from?"

"All of what?" Clarke asks innocently.

Lexa rolls her eyes at that, and miraculously finds the strength to give Clarke's shoulder a shove. "You know what I mean. The candle wax, what gave you the idea?"

Clarke shrugs, but a smile spreads across her face as she says, "I'm not sure. Having you like that," it doesn't take too much of a mental leap for Lexa to understand what Clarke means, "I don't know, it sparks my creativity. It's inspiring, I guess you could say. I imagine it was some combination of that and having candles within arms reach. I'm nothing if not practical."

"I should say so," Lexa says, a shiver running the length of her spine. Even on the cave floor it isn't remotely cold, so she has no excuse to even pretend to offer. "I have always liked them. But I never imagined I would have a reason like this to add to the list - I feel like I should say 'thank you'."

Clarke chuckles and nips at Lexa's jaw before answering, "Any time. But I think it's me that should be saying thank you. It is truly a privilege, fucking you."

And Lexa laughs. Her throat is a little raw and her mouth is dry from panting and gasping, but she tips her head back and laughs to the cave ceiling. It's partially embarrassment, she admits to herself, but it's also sheer adoration for this woman in her arms. This fiery, headstrong, brilliant, and loving woman who literally fell from the sky to save her life. She hugs Clarke all the tighter and, as the laughter subsides, tips her head down again to kiss her. 

"I love you, Clarke Griffin," she says, every ounce of her fondness shining in her smile.

"I love you too, Leksa kom Trikru." 

Clarke's body curls tighter around Lexa's, as if she could possibly get any closer, and her voice is light and full of adoration - but her expression doesn't quite fit the sentiment. She looks thoughtful again, like she's gone somewhere else in her mind. Somewhere that isn't entirely here, with Lexa. After a few moments her eyes refocus on Lexa's and, of all things, her cheeks begin to turn red. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"I can see that," Lexa answers. She's tipped her head to the side to better see her face, and she absently plays with Clarke's blonde waves with one hand. The angst that went into the final decision to shear off so much of them has been worth it, she thinks; the shorter hair frames her face well, and she looks like a different person than the one the world had abused so badly. A freer person. "What about?"

"This is maybe an odd question...or will seem like one." Clarke sighs in frustration, in that way that's clearly aimed at herself more than anything else. "This is silly, I've just been thinking - or wondering, really, if Grounders have anything like...marriage. It seems impossible that I don't know exactly what your culture thinks of that. Do Grounders get married?"

Marriage? Lexa takes a moment, certain that she knows that word from somewhere and yet failing to find a concept that matches it. Then all at once it dawns on her, and she feels a little warmth rise to her own face.

"As in Pride and Prejudice, you mean?" She sinks her fingers into Clarke's hair and lets her hand sit there, lifting her other arm to place it beneath her own head. It helps tip her head forward so she can see Clarke better, but also serves to stretch out her shoulder. "We do not have anything quite so elaborate, no. I read a kind of possession there, and that is foreign to us. But..." She presses her lips together, thinking through the thought that had just occurred to her.

Clarke shifts onto her stomach, half lying on the bedrolls and half on Lexa, one arm draped over Lexa's chest and supporting her chin. "But?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

She continues to weigh her words, her head tipping to the side in a kind of shrug. "There is a...I suppose it would translate to a 'joining' ceremony, in most of the clans. The tradition changes from one to another, but there is rarely any kind of contract, and the leadership of the clan never has an official role in it. But there is a promise made, between individuals who wish to make it. A promise..." Lexa takes a slow breath in, "to treat the other's needs as your own, and to treat their people as your people. For some that is taken as a lifelong oath, for others it is more temporary. It is up only to the individuals who are involved to decide what it means."

"That sounds about what I imagined it would be," Clarke says and shifts her other arm up onto Lexa's chest as well, creating a pillow of sorts for her head to rest on. "I think I like that better anyway, than traditional 'marriage.' It can be whatever you want it to be, whatever two people...think it should mean to them, I guess."

"It does not need to only be two people," Lexa says, wrinkling her nose a little. "It took me some time to understand that was the source of much of the strife in that story. Though I do not think I would want more than one other person, personally." She pauses a moment, her nose wrinkling turning into a frown of surprise as her mind catches up with her words. "Not that I had ever considered participating in such a thing before, myself. Other Commanders have done so, but..." 

The danger and death that plagued the relationships of previous Commanders is a subject that has been covered extensively by them both, and Lexa stops herself before she brings it up again. That part of her life - their lives - is done. That fight is won. She looks at Clarke again, bringing her eyes back from where they had wandered to the ceiling.

"Would you like something like that?" she asks. And then, face warming further, clarifies, "For us?"

"Yes," Clarke says, quietly but without hesitation. It seems now that Clarke has finally voiced her thoughts, she feels no concern in continuing to do so. "I think so. I've been thinking about it, lately. I know we don't need to do anything formal to solidify what we have. I know you love me, and you know that I love you. But it's always been a part of my life, of the culture I grew up in. Making that promise in front of people you love and that love you."

Despite the confidence in her voice, the closeness of their bodies allows Lexa to feel the increase in Clarke's heart rate. "Is that something you want? I don't care how, or what we say or who's there or any of it, really, besides you. But...would you? Want to do that?"

Lexa is quiet for a time, weighing that question. Before Clarke, before this moment, she really had never considered it. Not even with Costia. Back then she was a Nightblood, and then the Commander, and making such a promise seemed like something she could ill afford. But then, she believed a lot of things before Clarke. She believed that love would kill her. She believed that she would die long before she was old enough to make such a promise. And she believed she could be nothing more than the title she bore. None of those things matter now.

Never mind that she had already, more or less, spoken the words to Clarke. Not that Clarke knew that at the time or even knows it now - and an old embarrassment squirms in Lexa’s stomach at the thought. The same embarrassment that has prevented her confessing as much to Clarke over the years prevents her again from doing it now.

If they did do such a thing, if they promised themselves to each other in Clarke’s way, there would be little that she could bring to it. Who would attend for her? She has no family, and few friends. She would want Helena to be there, if she could get away. Ronnie, as well. Titus hasn't been seen since the day he shot her - though immediately upon having the thought, she rejects it out of hand. She thinks of Kita, but it feels strange to ask the Commander to attend such an event - and stranger yet to think of that title as belonging to someone other than her. She isn't sure that she'll ever shake that feeling.

Her eyes focus again on Clarke's, on the nervous earnestness that shines in the depths of their sky blue, and realizes: this isn’t about any of that. It's about them. About this beautiful woman who has entrusted her with her heart and with her life, and that she has trusted in turn. Would anything about that change with this? Nothing in the core of it, no. Clarke's needs are already her own, her people are already hers, and she intends for that to remain true for as long as she has life in her limbs. But there does seem to be something nice about the idea of saying so out loud, of making that oath explicitly and for the world to hear. 

And at any rate, Clarke wants it. She would give her the stars, if she could.

She lifts her hand to push Clarke's curls behind her ear. "I would," she says ultimately, and offers her a soft smile. "I cannot imagine many would attend for me, but I would be honored to make such a vow before your people. Especially if it is something that you want."

“Not many would attend for you?” Clarke scoffs. “The only reason Helena likes me at all is because of you. Ronnie and Kita were yours before I ever loved them, and Raven would be flamboyantly offended if you even suggested she wouldn’t be there for you...”

Clarke’s voice trails off, as if she’s realized just how much this indicates the amount of time her mind has spent on this subject. “Anyway, it’s not about that. No one else has to be there, if we don’t want them to be. But I...feel the way my people feel, before they ask someone to marry them. I want to be with you, here like this, forever - I want to promise that I will be and, if you want to, for you to do the same. And I know it’s different for your people, but I don’t know how else to ask it.”

That draws a smile to Lexa's face, warmth filling her heart, and she presses a palm to Clarke's cheek. "This works just fine," she says, and sweeps her thumb affectionately over Clarke's cheekbone.

"It will take some time to organize - but more so for the sake of traveling. If it were to just be us, we could do it tonight," Lexa says. She doesn't pause for the look of shock that crosses Clarke's face at that. "But to my knowledge, it is traditional to have a witness for each party present - right? Did you bring the Bird with you?"

The communication device Raven had built has survived much in the time since the Sky People first visited Polis. And while a newer, more efficient tool had been designed for their current ambassador, Clarke was allowed to keep her prototype. Before they all left Arkadia, Raven had fiddled with it to add a third line for an additional device that she could bring with her when she visited Helena. She also installed some sort of noise maker that made it sing every time a new message is received, and Lexa - unamused by the tone - has called it the Bird ever since.

Clarke nods as much as she can manage in her current position, clearly still a little bit in shock at just how quickly this turned from happening in theory to happening, potentially, now. "Of course, I always have it. But we can't just tell Helena or my mother about this like that ," Clarke has adamantly refused to call it 'the Bird,' no matter how annoying she secretly finds the sound. "They'll be upset if they don't hear it from us. At least, my mother will be. After everything that's happened, I still think she might kill me if I told her I'm getting married via a communicator."

Lexa chuckles. "We'll send a real bird, then," she says - though she knows full well that isn't what Clarke means.

Clarke rolls her eyes and scoots forward until her arms rest more on Lexa's collarbone than her chest and she's able to reach her face for a kiss. "You really want to do this?" she asks, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "You're not just agreeing because I asked? Because once we tell people…"

"I am not going to change my mind, if that is what you're worried about," Lexa answers with a quirk in her smile and her eyebrows raised a little. "As I said, I have not considered this as an option before now, so in that way I suppose I am doing it because you asked. But as far as I am concerned, I have made that oath already." Clarke's nose is easily within range, and Lexa pushes her head forward to kiss it. "It might be nice to actually say it out loud, before those who care about us. And if it would make you happy, well. That is only a bonus."

Clarke's face absolutely lights up at that, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. "It would make me really happy. And having to travel to Arkadia will give us a great excuse to leave Floukru, whenever we feel restless again."

"It would," Lexa nods - a fact she’s more than a little grateful for. Though she is still not terribly comfortable with Skaikru's way of life, she likes Clarke's people. And there are certainly amenities they have that no other member of the Coalition can hold a candle to. (For a moment, she remembers the wax currently being pressed between their bodies.) "Would you want to return to Floukru for the ceremony? Or stay in Arkadia?"

"It doesn't matter to me, but I think it will feel more like...us, I guess, like our ceremony, if we're in Floukru. I'd be worried that my friends will make it into something bigger or different than what we'd like if we stay in Arkadia, and they could use an excuse to come to Floukru anyway. Raven has been bothering Bellamy and Octavia about visiting all year."

"She should know better than to think she could pin Octavia and Lincoln down any better than she could pin us," Lexa says then with a grin. With her arm still looped around Clarke she shifts her weight, and rolls them both over. The wax on her body sticks and pulls, some sections coming off on Clarke as she lands on her back on the other bedroll. Lexa assumes a position much like the one Clarke just had, leaning on one elbow with her body half on Clarke, half off. She leans down, hair falling from over her shoulder, and brushes her nose against Clarke's. "But you are right. We could give them a good reason to make the journey."

Clarke brushes bits of dried wax off her stomach. "You know, I didn't realize the clean up that might be required after this. Good thing there's a convenient pool to jump in--"

She barely gets the last syllable out before Lexa kisses her, long and deep and full of the warmth that she feels blooming in her chest and throughout her body. Clarke wants to make that promise to her. She wants her, to be with her, for as long as they are able - and it makes Lexa feel like flying.

She sets her sights a little lower than flight for now, however. But not much lower.

"It is," she says when she pulls away. She moves only an inch back, just far enough away that she can look down at Clarke's body and watch her hand move across her stomach. "However, before we attend to that, I believe I had a test that I need to pass."

Clarke grins and instead of answering, pulls Lexa's mouth back to hers.

By that evening, Lexa has passed that test and then some. In fact, if they weren't so isolated, she might actually be concerned about some curious creature wandering into the cave to investigate the noise. As it is, Clarke barely lets her move for at least an hour; they don't bother to make a fire, only eat what they have in their packs and curl back up in the front of the cave.

Exhaustion overtakes Clarke immediately. Lexa is used to the other woman falling asleep before her and holds her close, happy just to feel Clarke's heartbeat against her own skin. Aside from the discovery of the cave, this day isn't all that different from any other day they've spent together in the last year. The conversation they've had and the decision they've made doesn't change anything about their relationship or Lexa's feelings for Clarke. But still, holding Clarke now, the way she always has - it hits Lexa for the first time that this is where she'll be, every single night, for the rest of her life.

Chapter Text

The long hall that is Floukru's seat of power is sparsely populated, despite a near-constant string of petitioners making their way to and from Helena's throne. The bench, crafted of heavy, carved wood with no back so as to resemble a rowing seat on a river ship - and to ensure no one who sits there ever grows too comfortable - heads up the hall, and overlooks a stretch of long tables from atop a raised dais. The whole space has the fairly comfortable feel of a community hall, a place where ship captains and shepherds alike can come in, take from the pot of stew that simmers perpetually over the massive fire in the center of the hall, and eat at one of the tables. A few do in the time that Lexa sits there, a pair of cowherds and a ferrier taking from the pot before finding one of the seats furthest from the throne, but the majority of activity centers around their end of the space.

Three sets of massive double doors mark the entrances to the hall, set in its eastern, western, and southern sides, while the dais marks the northern end. All three are thrown open on this summer day, a number of long cut-outs in the walls between left unobstructed to allow a fresh, cooling sea air to relieve some of the heat. In the winter those same openings will be battened down, Lexa knows, keeping the longhouse a warm and secure home for those who would come in off the freezing seas to weather the cold months. But for now she can look up from her table and see the shore a hundred yards from the foot of the longhouse's hill, and the gentle bobbing of the floating platforms and lashed together boats of Floukru's floating capital city. 

It has been one of the great joys of her retirement that Lexa can go where she pleases as she likes; if she chooses to summer here with Helena, the only person who can tell her no is Helena, and if she chooses to spend spring building an addition to the home she and Clarke have chosen in the mountains, then she can do that, too. In the years since she ceded her throne to Kita, the world has learned how to live without her. And she has learned to sleep without nightmares and wake without anxious, itchy energy.

Though admittedly, she's never quite outgrown her hunger for politics. Not the practice of it, of course - she's much more spectator than participant these days, and that is by design - but knowing what all is happening, who's maneuvering where, putting the squeeze on who, where tensions are high and where new treaties have been made, is a habit she will likely never set aside. Helena's daily dealings are one of Lexa's few remaining lines to the political world, and her relative anonymity means the captains and delegates and messengers and representatives come and go without taking note of her sitting eight feet away at the foot of the dais. In a green sleeveless shirt - stolen from Skaikru - and leather leggings, her hair tied back in her braids and tattoos on display, but distinctive warpaint and helm of awe nowhere to be seen, it's entirely likely that they wouldn't recognize her in the first place. 

As such, she is able to eavesdrop on her friend's dealings without interruption or suspicion. She sits at the corner of a table closest to the throne, her back to the western wall and Helena within her sightline, and only occasionally actually reads the book cracked open on the table in front of her. Most of the time her eyes scan the page without comprehension, and she mechanically shaves a chunk of flesh off the peach she holds in one hand with the short knife she holds in the other, munching away on the summer fruit as she drinks in visitors' information.

It's somewhere in hour three that a lull in petitioners occurs, and Lexa catches herself actually reading without the distraction of voices. ...will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and…

Lexa frowns, a faint anxiety that has been an intermittent companion all summer surfacing once more. It isn't a bad anxiety, as it's not of the all-consuming variety, but it buzzes in the back of her mind like an unchecked line on her to-do list. She presses her lips together, worrying an idea that she's been worrying for weeks now, a sense that it's somehow underdeveloped her excuse for not sharing it. And then, gathering an immediate and reckless courage that is much more Clarke's modus operandi than her own, she says to Helena in Trigedasleng:

"What is the name of your jeweler?" 

It's the first time she's spoken since petitioning hours began, and without lifting her eyes from her book Lexa knows that Helena looks at her with eyebrows raised. 

"Halard," Helena replies easily enough. Lexa hears the creak of wood as the chieftain shifts in her seat, no doubt to better regard Lexa and scrutinize the reason for this question. "He's a genius with metal. Delicate metal, anyway." Finally, Lexa lifts her head to meet Helena's eyes - which are indeed wide with curiosity. "You sure you didn't just forget the word for 'blacksmith?'"

"I did not, though I thank you for your sass," Lexa answers flatly. But her lips crook into a grin despite her show of disapproval and she pretends to read again to hide it. "I was considering having some rings made. Depending on the timetable, I may need to make use of Halard's skill."

Lexa can feel the way Helena's eyes narrow at the top of her head. "And why would you need rings?"

"To give as gifts." 

If pressed, Lexa would likely excuse her evasiveness as a result of her uncertainty. Her nerves, her anxiety - fear, even. This thought is half-baked at best, and is never one she would have so much as conceived of just a few months ago; she has little planned and even less to go on, the idea being as foreign to her as it is. And Lexa never does anything she isn't entirely certain she is ready to do. 

But she would be lying if she didn't acknowledge, alongside all of that, the small joy of experiencing Helena's growing curiosity and frustration with her caginess. 

"Leksa kom Trikru asking me about jewelry. I did not anticipate a miracle when I woke up this morning." Helena folds one leg over the other and leans forward on the table in front of her to face Lexa more fully. Lexa can see this by the way her friend's feet move at the corner of her vision. "You've piqued my interest, now out with it."

"Why would you assume I have anything to tell you?"

"Because you've hardly read more than two pages of that book, and I can hear your brain turning over from here."

Lexa rolls her eyes. She should know better than to try and out-cheek Helena.

The book thunks into itself when she flips it closed, and she keeps it tucked against her side as she stands and approaches Helena's bench. Only when she stands at the corner of it, now equal with Helena and a mere few feet away, does she put the book down again, rest her hand atop it, and say, "Clarke wants to be married."

Helena scoffs, entirely unimpressed by this declaration. "Did Clarke hit her head recently? You've already dedicated yourselves. You've already said the words, even: 'My advisor, my confidant, my partner,' and all that." Heat creeps up the side of Lexa's neck, the feeling of speaking those words aloud still somehow, after all this time, fresh in her memory. "I'm sure you added far more unnecessary words, but you said them. What more is there to do?"

"No, no - not like that." The more she thinks about getting rid of the blush, the worse it becomes; she can feel it settling into her ears and has to look away to continue. "Not dedicated - married." She says the word in English now for emphasis, and sure enough Helena's eyebrows go up. She continues in Trigedasleng: "As her people do. And the way her people do it, rings are required."

"Marriage..." The way Helena says the word is like she's tasting it. Rolling it around on her tongue, feeling out its texture and meaning. "I've heard that word somewhere. In one of your books?" Lexa confirms with a nod. "Yes, where a man...purchases a woman? With some kind of contract? I don't recall the rings, but I do remember disliking the whole concept."

"It is different," Lexa acknowledges. For all she enjoys reading these books, the ownership aspect of the ritual has always run against the grain for her. "Though I do not think the purchasing aspect will be emphasized, in this instance. The sense I was given is that it's more about her family than it is about the contract."

"Abby?" Now Helena grins and leans back, looking for all the world like the cat that got the cream. "Now I really am curious. I remember something about that now, something about permission." Dark blue eyes roll in exasperation. "So many details and other people involved in this marriage thing. You just say the dedication words and have sex, why make everything so complicated?"

"Because it is what she desires," Lexa answers flatly. Does she fully understand the importance of the marriage ceremony in Skaikru culture? No, she doesn't. But she isn't about to let anyone, even Helena, disparage Clarke's interest in it. She turns to the side so she can lean back against the table in front of Helena and rests her hands on its edge. "Our customs may be different, but that is no reason to disregard theirs. Clarke has asked if I would be comfortable with the idea, and I said I was. And it is within my power to give it to her, so I will."

Helena makes an mmm sound in the back of her throat, that grin turning easily into a knowing smile. "Yes, that does sound like you. So what exactly does giving it to her entail? Rings, and something about Abby. Is there more?" Her eyes alight with an idea and Lexa knows what she's going to suggest before the words are out of her mouth. "This would be a celebration, would it not? And celebrations require people, food, alcohol, dancing...?"

"It is certainly a happy occasion, so I should imagine it goes well with a celebration." Lexa can't help the small smile that pulls to her lips. Of course Helena would skip straight to the party. "But there is a ceremony beforehand that is the most important. The details are...hazy to my eyes, but from what I have read," she taps the cover of the book on the table beside her, "It begins with asking permission of her family. It should be her father, but as he was lost before they came to the ground, Abby will have to stand in. Then I have to ask her permission - Clarke's, I mean - and if she should say yes, there is a provisional contract made. That contract is then solidified in a ceremony by an objective observer with...some relation to their spiritual beliefs - I am somewhat unclear on that part - with her people as witnesses. On that count at least it is not so different from the way Trikru and Yujledakru conduct their dedications."

Helena raises an imperious eyebrow and sips from a cup of sweet tea in front of her before responding with a put-upon sigh. "That all sounds extremely vague and boring. How do you not know the details of this? Haven't you researched everything there is to know about Skaikru customs in that little library of theirs?"

The comment surprises Lexa - not because Helena wouldn't know about the lessons she took with Avery or the books she borrowed from Skaikru, but because it hadn't occurred to her to scour her memories of that time in search of helpful marriage-related information. She takes a moment to consider that possibility now, flipping through the topics she can recall that may pertain to the marriage question. "The children I joined were too young for such concerns; those classes were more about learning how the Ark functioned, and the history of its existence." A brief thought for how much more she must know about the world prior to the Fires than Helena, and then, "But discussions with Avery herself centered on their models of government, politics, and methods of production and trade. Social customs were...well, I suppose I may have some notes on them, but those notebooks are all back in Arkadia."

"Well," Helena slaps her hands on the table and stands, stretching her shoulders and back, "this all sounds like a bit much, which means you've come to the right place. Walk with me."

The chieftain doesn't wait for Lexa's response, just saunters past her and out through the eastern door of the longhouse. Lexa only needs to close her book and tuck it under her arm before she's able to follow, but even then she has to jog to catch up. Helena may be relaxed and casual when it comes to her personal life, but she is constantly on the move when she's operating in her role as chief. Accessible, energetic, honest, strong - all are things that Lexa would use to describe her friend, and are surely ways that her people would describe her as well.

"Tell me more about these rings," Helena says as Lexa falls into step beside her, as if she'd anticipated exactly when Lexa would catch up. "You each need one? For what purpose?"

"It's part of the ceremony," Lexa answers, watching a pair of Floukru members pass them instead of Helena. She's never quite kicked the habit of awaiting an attack from anyone at any given time. The sense of anxiety has dulled over the years, but the reflex remains. "A physical, visible symbol for the contract being made. I'll wear one, and she'll wear one, until the day the contract becomes void - so their design will have to be practical."

"'Until the contract becomes void,'" Helena mimics with a quiet chuckle. She nods and waves as they pass by groups of people, all of whom say at least a quick hello. "What does that mean? Are there terms?"

Lexa opens her mouth to respond. Pauses. Opens the book and flips through to a note she'd made on the last page. "'Until death do us part,'" she reads, and snaps the book closed again. "I assume there is more to it than that - it would be far too simple a contract otherwise - but I take that to be the gist." 

"Sounds...binding." Lexa attempts to suppress a smile as Helena visibly shudders at the prospect. "Which means it's perfect for you."

The capital of Floukru, Kape, is a sprawling city that extends across land, swamp, sand, and water. Businesses, centers of government and commerce, storage facilities and many other buildings necessary for a functioning community reside on land. Long, well-made structures meant to resist the battering of wind, rain, and snow pepper the landscape and are connected by platforms made of wooden planks. On sturdier ground, these planks are arrayed directly on the earth - but as the land descends into swamp and sandy areas, the platforms are raised on stilts.

Residences, holding pens for smaller animals, and the occasional smaller business are also built on wide, wooden stilts to accommodate the flow of the tides. Steps and ramps create paths of egress up and down as the village extends into the water and beyond. Out there, homes and trading docks float on the waves, supported by wooden pylons beneath the water and held together by a matrix of platforms that connect everything together. Beyond, Lexa knows, ships are being loaded and unloaded with goods. Some readying themselves to travel to distant lands, others disembarking after a long journey. 

Lexa had never taken the time to consider the ingenuity employed by Floukru's builders to allow their homes to rest directly on the sea - not until she'd first brought Clarke here, who had never seen the ocean much less a city functioning on top of it.

Helena beckons Lexa down a set of wooden stairs leading farther into the city. "Simple, utilitarian rings should be easy enough to accomplish," she continues on, "but I assume you have something particular in mind if you bothered to ask me for help."

"Is it not enough that I should want the opinion of the woman I call sister?"

"Of course you want my opinion, who wouldn't?" Helena grins in that way she has - somehow both genuine and sarcastic at the same time. "But I know you. You wouldn't give Clarke just anything, you want it to be special."

"So you do," Lexa mutters. She spent so much of her life distancing herself from the joy that comes with being known. She revels in it now - though it's decidedly unbecoming to let that be too widely known. "And so I do. It occurred to me that, though the metal from a meteorite may make for an awful sword, it would make--"

"For gorgeous rings," Helena finishes the thought for her excitedly. "Of course, that's perfect. Metal from the sky for your Sky Girl." Helena's grin turns more into a soft, knowing smile. "Who would've guessed you were such a romantic?"

Lexa feels warmth creep up her neck once more, but she wards it off by holding the book up between them, cover facing Helena. "Everyone. Literally every person who knew my preferred reading choices. Except for myself, apparently." 

"Well I'm glad you've finally embraced it."

They take another turn, down a ramp this time, and then another to the right. Lexa knows where they're headed before they get there: Helena's residence. As the chief, she could choose to live wherever she likes. At least, Lexa imagines that would be the case. Helena's choice of home is, of course, set beside the sea that she loves. Waves lap beneath the floor of her home, which is raised on stilts such that it sits half on land, half over the water.

Unlike most other floating homes, Helena's isn't strictly 'floating.' The house proper is elevated above the shallows and is surrounded by an outdoor deck.  This deck ends in a flight of stairs at the front of the house, which leads down to a personal dock that floats lazily in the afternoon waves.

"Raven, my sweet, your beloved has returned!" Helena calls in English as they enter the home. Once more, the heavy closures on the structure's entrance and windows have been replaced with lighter fare: no banded timber door must be pushed open as Lexa steps inside, only a linen hanging to be swept aside. The interior is cool, shaded from the sun and well-ventilated by the empty window panes...and also, conspicuously, empty. Helena stops not two feet in front of the door to frown up at the lofted space Lexa knows is her bedroom, and calls again, "Ray?"

"Perhaps she's still at the shipyard," Lexa speculates, passing Helena to take a seat at the lone table in the room. The sound of the waves is everywhere in this space, the gentle lapping of water echoing up through the floorboards and drifting through the windows. It's a far sight from the bustle of Polis and Arkadia, despite the sound of people calling to each other and working in the distance. "Arguing with your shipwright about the engineering we have used for a hundred years."

"In her defense, she has implemented a number of helpful improvements to Kape." Helena removes the linen vest she'd been wearing before, leaving her upper body covered in nothing but a thin blue bandeau, and pulls out another chair. She props her feet up on the table with a sigh and stretches her neck. "A fact I have to remind our own builders of more often than not, admittedly."

Helena tucks her hands beneath her hair at the nape of her neck and shakes out her curls, exposing the long line of her neck, into the corner of her jaw on one end, into the rounded cap of her shoulder on the other. She's intelligent, confident, sharp as a blade - but there's little question that her charm is her main weapon. And is there any doubt how she manages to be so charming? 

Lexa has eyes; she knows Helena is an attractive woman. But the bite of her looks has little effect on her at this point. Not like it did in the months after Costia's death, when grief did more to augment her judgment than the curve of any collarbone ever has.

"Perhaps it's for the best," Lexa says with a slight shrug. "For all that I enjoy learning from Raven, I do not think I can ask her about this just yet."

“No?” Helena’s dark blue eyes sparkle with amusement and, Lexa thinks, not a small amount of affection. It may have been grief that brought them together, however briefly, but that ill-fated arrangement had given them both a lifelong friend. “She would know far more about Skaikru traditions than I, and she’s Clarke’s closest friend. Though, I wouldn’t call Raven traditional...”

A fondness that has nothing to do with Lexa overtakes Helena’s face. “Maybe we wait until we have a better idea of what you want before consulting her.”

"Yes, ideally," Lexa says, but she's only half paying attention to the words as they leave her lips. She had been debating the possibility of approaching Raven on the subject for days now, and every time... She taps the tips of her fingers against the cover of her book. "You don't think...Raven wouldn't lie, would she?"

Helena’s lips turn down in a frown that looks disturbingly more contemplative than indignant. “I don’t...believe so. She’ll tease you mercilessly, but I don’t think she would intentionally deceive you.” 

"Mm." Suddenly Lexa feels the need to pay much more attention to Helena's expression and body language. "Not even for a good laugh?"

The Flourkru chieftain purses her lips. Her fingers drum on the table in front of her as she considers, and Lexa gets the feeling that she's taking the time to choose her words.

"I don't believe so," she repeats, more sure this time, "but I wouldn't be surprised if she led you on for a bit. I could speak to her ahead of time, if that would ease your concern. Raven doesn't always listen to me, but it might help." That smile is back - the one Lexa has seen on her friend more often in the past few years since Roan was ousted from Polis than in the entirety of the time they've known each other. "It certainly couldn't hurt."

"Hm." Definitely good Raven isn't here, then.

Satisfied for now that the mechanic won't torpedo her plans unnecessarily, Lexa reaches for a slate and charcoal that Helena leaves perpetually in a basket on the edge of the table. As she speaks, she scratches down an order of operations: "As I said, I'll need Abby's permission before proposing the contract to Clarke. As such, it seems to me that ought to happen before anything else--"

"You," Helena gestures at the whole of Lexa, "asking Abigail Griffin for permission to marry her daughter? I'm so glad that I'm here for this. Are you imagining this occurring in person? Because I would love to be present for that as well."

"Abigail Griffin never leaves Arkadia if she can avoid it," Lexa answers flatly, the side-effect of trying so hard not to rise to Helena's bait, "so either you will have to journey with me to Arkadia to witness it, or we can both save ourselves the trial of doing so by sending a letter." The words come out sounding far more certain than Lexa feels; she hadn't quite decided which course of action to take, and the pause she takes now reflects that. "Though...perhaps sending the letter will appear cowardly. Or dismissive, in some way. Would it fail to be persuasive, do you think?"

"I'm not sure." Helena removes her feet from the table and leans forward on her elbows, chin resting on a shelf formed by her intertwined fingers. "You convey yourself eloquently in writing, but a letter may lack the..." she purses her lips again, looks up into the middle distance for the right word. "Sincerity," she finally lands on, "that is always so evident when you talk about Clarke in person. 

"If you sent it soon, it would get there before you plan to retrieve Clarke from Arkadia. You could suggest in the letter that you plan to discuss it in person with her when you arrive? That way neither of you would be surprised or unprepared," Helena gives Lexa's shin a gentle kick, "and if you and Abby have anything in common, it's a dislike for surprises."

"I like to think I share a number of Abigail's impressive traits," Lexa answers. The rehearsed defense comes as she begins scratching notes down on the slate again, but merely because she's practiced it doesn't mean it isn't true. Her relationship to the Skaikru chancellor has always been complicated, but she likes to think a mutual appreciation has developed over the years. Certainly, she notes with a squirm of fear in her stomach, she hopes that's the case. "But perhaps you are correct. Best not drop it on her without warning.

"Let's assume that works. I send the letter, it arrives shortly before I do--"

"We do," Helena quickly corrects, but Lexa doesn't pause long enough to ascertain how serious she really is about joining her.

"--and I discuss the matter with her. She agrees to the terms, and allows me to present them to Clarke." Her hand slows its quick scribbling as this new topic settles into her mind, and she slowly lifts her head to look at Helena. "By the Flame, I have to present them to Clarke."

Helena laughs at the look of panic that Lexa is sure is making itself known across her face. "Maybe you should think of it less like 'presenting terms.'" She mimes quotes with her fingers, which Lexa is sure must be a gesture she's picked up from Raven. "I know you're trying to respect their customs, but Clarke doesn't seem like the formal type. Just tell her how you feel and what it is that you want." Helena shrugs. "Simple."

"Simple enough to say," Lexa protests. "But there is a reason she requested a marriage, and not a dedication."

“And I’m sure the fact that she doesn’t know what a dedication is had nothing to with it,” Helena retorts, one eyebrow raised with a sort of soft imperiousness that only the Floukru chieftain could muster. “It’s adorable, really, to see you so nervous. But she loves you, Lexa. You’re already dedicated - married, bonded together. However you want to say it. No matter how you present this to her, she will agree to it.”

Lexa sighs through her nose, her immediate impulse to argue back: Helena hasn't thought about this prior to this moment, she doesn't know all the details that are yet undecided or ready to complicate things or otherwise ruin her plans. But...she is right, of course. Clarke was the one to bring the idea up - the entire reason she's considering these questions and obstacles is because Clarke asked her to. And for all that Clarke has her own mind, she isn't the sort to react poorly to something just because it isn't perfect. Flame knows neither of them would be alive now if that were the case.

She flips the corner of the book's cover against her thumb. The worst case scenario is that she makes an awful proposal, and Clarke rejects it. But Clarke never would - and so the worst case scenario will not come to be. There's plenty else that can go wrong, but knowing this helps put her anxiety to ease.

"Very well," Lexa says, and flips the slate over. "Then help me decide what this letter should look like."