Chapter Text
“Get the fuck out, are you serious?” Octavia cries not too subtly. “You guys were fucking the whole time I was putting my neck out on the line, balls deep in cold river water, trying to save our people? You’re unbelievable.”
She crushes a twig between her fingers and hurls it in the opposite direction.
“Shhh.” Clarke hisses, swinging around frantically to see if anyone had heard her. “Keep your voice down.”
“Like hell I will.” Octavia grumbles. “It doesn’t even matter, your neck looks absolutely ravaged. God damn, looks like somebody tried to choke you or something.”
Clarke’s hands fly up to cup her neck even though she knew it was no use. The marks covered nearly all of the exposed skin on her neck; there's probably more purple and blue blotches than regular skin color. In the morning, she had taken one glance at the broken mirror shard on Lexa's counter before spinning around furiously. But her growl died in her throat at the sight of Lexa, naked and sprawled out on top of the furs, bearing her own marks. She looked just as bad if not worse with the additional scratch marks covering her shoulders. The sight started a low throb between her legs and she had licked her way down Lexa's body, angry words forgotten under her newly found determination.
Octavia was never supposed to know who, but the warrior had cornered her and threatened to bring up her escapades to her mother. Clarke’s face had paled. That would not have been a pleasant conversation.
“So tell me,” Octavia smirked, “was she any good?”
Clarke’s face flushes red. She ducks her head quickly and doesn't reply.
“Well obviously she was, based on your uh…” She gestures vaguely to her neck again and Clarke glares at her. Octavia only returns it with a full-blown grin. Clarke can’t blame her. It's a shitty world and good gossip rarely ever exists unless it was related in some way, shape, or form to death.
So she thinks it's totally understandable... until Octavia asks: “So how many times did she make you cum?” and her ears go red all over again.
“Octavia, shut up!”
“Let me guess, four times.”
Clarke groans and shakes her head. “I’m not playing this game with you.”
“Higher? Like… six tops.” She snorts.
Another shake of the head. Octavia raises an eyebrow.
“What is it? Eight? Nine?”
She really shouldn't be saying this but--
“Twelve.” Clarke whispers, and it’s half muffled by her own hands.
Octavia’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck?” She whispers. “Twelve!? How did you even-”
“I told you it was the damn flower.”
“The damn…” Octavia splutters incredulously. “I’m going to get me and Lincoln one of those after we slaughter Pike and his goonies today. Mark my words.”
It's a joke. It's supposed to be funny. She should be laughing, but she's not. Clarke’s stomach drops instead. Today. They were going to attack Arkadia. And despite multiple protests and excessive begging, there was no choice. Pike had ordered an attack on their very camp earlier this morning and Lexa’s orders were to take out all that resisted, but Clarke was sure that as soon as the fighting started, it would be very hard to tell who was on which side.
“Hey.” Octavia’s voice snaps her gaze back up. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got the element of surprise. As long as we can get to close range combat, it’s done, and our archers will be ready this time. It won’t be another massacre.”
Clarke nods and swallows thickly. “Yeah, I know.”
Octavia nods and looks away. They're comfortable in the silence and Clarke feels a pang in her chest when she remembers that this is how it once was. Octavia, Monty, Bellamy, Jasper... Finn, sitting around a campfire and trusting each other. Clarke wonders where they had gone wrong, how they had managed to turn on one another and start getting each other killed. But this world is messed up and Clarke knows that they have been doing well enough compared to some of the other people, and the other monstrosities that warfare brings out. Octavia's gaze is fixed past her and whatever she sees causes her back to straighten immediately. Clarke doesn’t have time to ask before a clear voice penetrates through the air.
“Clarke.”
She spins around so fast that she almost tumbles off the log she's sitting on. Octavia snickers behind her. Lexa stands regally just a couple of feet away flanked by guards on either side and her Commander mask on full fledge. Her posture sends jolts of heat south and she tries not to think about it because she's already aching. Instead, she ducks her head down and tries not to smirk at the red fabric wrapped around Lexa's neck.
“When you are done with your conversation,” her eyes rake over Octavia’s sitting form, “meet me in my tent. I have important matters I would like to discuss with you.”
Clarke nods and her body thrums with anticipation. Once Lexa disappears into her tent, she turns back to Octavia.
"Important matters, huh?" Octavia wiggles her eyebrows at her and Clarke rolls her eyes, smile already spreading across her face. Her knee bobs up and down as they sit in a tense silence for a couple of seconds until Octavia rolls her eyes and says, “Go.”
Clarke offers a sheepish smile and a small, “thanks” before jumping up and rushing towards Lexa's tent.
"You have to tell me more about this flower later though!" Octavia yells after her.
She's still grinning when she pushes into the tent, and as soon as the flap closes, she realizes two things:
1) that the tent is a mess
and 2) Lexa is alone.
“Should we um… clean this?” She gestures embarrassedly at the maze of fallen items. Everything, and she means everything, is knocked over and strewn haphazardly around the tent. They literally had sex on every single spot in the tent and Clarke feels her face heat up at the memories.
Lexa, however, shows no signs of embarrassment as her gaze bores into Clarke. “No. My guards will have to move everything anyways.”
She takes a step closer to her and Clarke automatically feels the pull. It's magnetic, like they're drawn to each other by some unknown force. Clarke takes a moment to realize that it has always been like this and always will. She's the one.
“We go to war today.” Lexa continues, breaking her out of her thoughts. Clarke nods. “Will you go against your own people?”
Lexa's voice is tight, and Clarke realizes that she's nervous. The question is not asked accusingly, and it dawns on Clarke that Lexa is almost expecting Clarke to run out of the tent this very moment and back to the open gates of Arkadia. As if I could leave you.
Clarke looks down. “It’s not my choice. I have done what I can and… now they need to do what they can to make this right.”
Lexa' gaze is calculated, as if analyzing her for the truth. Her voice is careful as she asks: “And you believe that they can make this right?”
"Yes." Clarke steps in, holding those brilliant emerald eyes in place. "Not everyone in there agrees with Pike. Some just like the idea of having power, others are just scared that he'll kill them off for being on the 'wrong side.'"
"Perhaps your people should be more afraid of themselves." Lexa says quietly.
"We shouldn't be afraid at all." Clarke counters. "Not when we can be living in peace. Not when we-" It catches in her throat, but Lexa understands her anyways. Not when we can finally have a chance.
"Do you believe that your people deserve to spared, Clarke?"
Clarke picks up her gaze and stares directly at her.
“Of course, Lexa. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
At this, Lexa’s shoulders drop and with them drops the Commander’s mask. The walls tumble down, down, down and Lexa's face contorts. Clarke doesn't hesitate and immediately steps forward so that she can cup Lexa’s face in her palms.
“Hey." She tilts Lexa's chin up to meet her gaze and her eyes are glassy and unfocused. "I know that there is nothing I can do to stop this war. You've made your decision, Lexa." Her thumb traces circles on Lexa's cheeks. "But I meant everything I said last night.” She says lowly. “That wasn’t just the flower talking, it was me.”
Lexa let’s out a shuddering breath. “Clarke I-”
She struggles and Clarke saves her the effort by leaning up and pressing their lips together. As soon as they touch, Lexa melts into her, fingers scrambling to find a hold on her hips. The kiss is so so gentle and it makes her heart ache in her chest. She weaves her fingers through Lexa’s hair and sighs. Forget about the war, if they died right here right now, she wouldn't mind a single bit. Lexa's lips are warm and soft against hers, holding a caress that makes her head spin and her heart beat wildly. She pulls back reluctantly and Lexa is staring at her.
“I love you.” She rasps out and Clarke can do little more than pull her back and hope. Hope that Pike could see reason, hope that the war didn’t destroy them, and hope that the feelings they have right now would keep them alive for an eternity.