Chapter Text
When Harper insists Clarke sits beside her during mealtime, Lexa tries to ignore the clenching in her stomach and thinks nothing of it. Even if it means Clarke is several seats apart from her and she doesn’t get to speak with her, even if mealtime is the only time their schedules really allow them to be, Lexa trusts Clarke and knows whose arms she’ll fall asleep at night.
Ignoring the fire constantly burning low in her chest gets harder as Clarke seems to make time in her day to spend with Harper. But she remains quiet as Clarke spends her meals chatting with Harper, making plans to go hunting and organizing gatherings with the Sky People.
The simmering rage that makes her lose her appetite doesn’t dissipate as she notices that most of the time, the two girls are accompanied by other kids from the Ark – but Harper seems to always be too close, always touching Clarke in some way, always keeping her from Lexa until late night.
Yet, Lexa contains herself. She understands that Clarke missed her friends and the battle against Mount Weather had taken its toll on her. After being sent to the ground to die, having starved and bled out, Lexa couldn’t blame Clarke for wanting a bit of home and a break from the rigid grounder lifestyle.
But understanding it doesn’t make the bitterness in the back of her throat any more bearable.
Lexa is content, for the most part – as she should be. For the first time in almost a century, Earth born people are free from the constant shadow of Mount Weather, the kids could play in the woods without fearing for the lives and now the Commander has shifted her focus from war strategies and death count to territory expansion and agricultural plans. But she couldn’t grant plantation the ability to keep her mind from wandering to how Harper is currently teaching Clarke how to swim and all the sordid scenarios that could come to be.
Sitting at her desk, Lexa is surrounded by things to do, enough to keep her busy until past night fall. The task she has currently in hands is leisure activities for her warriors – training lasted from sunrise to midday, if that much. She had entire afternoons to fill and she had barely been able to name two activities in the past hour. Glancing at the map in front of her, she takes a moment to contemplate places to take her warriors but her eyes fall to a body of water near the city that, while pretty, it was hardly suitable for warriors to spend any kind of quality time – it’s the waterfall Clarke is swimming half naked on with someone who isn’t her.
It doesn’t take Lexa much to realize she won’t be making any progress if she keeps imagining Harper’s hands running down Clarke’s wet skin, both of them giggling as they lose their footing, slipping on the moss covered rocks and grabbing onto one another in an attempt to stay afloat, their legs intertwining as they kick themselves to the surface – her charcoal splits in half in her tight grip, black shards flying across the table. She cleans it up as neatly as she can with her trembling hands, careful not to smudge the paper she’s been writing on and calls it a day.
It’ll be dark soon and Lexa tries to convince herself that she’s allowed to take a few hours to walk around the town she rules, maybe play with the kids in the now very safe streets and, if she’s truthful with herself, sulk until Clarke comes back to her.
As she walks down the streets towards a few kids playing with a rope – she’s always been rather good with jump rope, she could teach the kids a few tricks –, she barely has time to come up with one bad scenario, let alone a hundred and play them over and over in her head, before she sees Clarke walking up the street towards her.
One of the worst scenarios she could’ve thought of greets her as she looks down the main street.
They’re in a big group. Bellamy and Octavia are the ones she sees first, both covered in mud from head to toe and Octavia laughs as she scrapes some of the wet sludge from her neck and flicks it at Jasper, hitting him in the face. She sees Wick carrying Raven on his back, piggyback riding style and she turns her gaze as the girl is about to run her fingers through his wet hair, deeming the moment too intimate to stare.
Her eyes drift to the pair beside them, riding in similar fashion. Clarke carried Harper on her back, her blonde curly hair soaking wet and her tank top clinking to her toned stomach. Her arm muscles twitching as her hands clutched to the bare skin of Harper’s naked thighs, that hug her torso as her arms hug Clarke’s shoulders.
Harper catches Lexa’s gaze before Clarke sees her, and the Commander doesn’t make any attempt to pretend she’s not seething. Whatever happened to Harper in Mount Weather must have toughened her, because she bows down, whispering something on Clarke’s ears, letting her lips graze on her neck without ever tearing her eyes from Lexa.
Lexa sees red. Her vision becomes blurred but she can’t tell it’s from tears stinging the back of her eyes or if her anger is blinding her. Her trail of thought is nothing more than a string of profanities directed to Harper – and some to Clarke as well – and she’s powerless to prevent herself the images that her jealous mind forms. She pictures her sword swinging in the air and meeting Harper’s throat, she imagines blood leaving her limp body and pooling at her feet. But all of those war worthy images leave her mind and one much more appealing take their place – she sees herself walking up to them, pulling Harper my her long hair and punching her in the face so hard her jaw would crack.
She schools her features until she’s sure her stoic mask is in place before she opens her eyes to stare again at the two girls. She regrets it as soon as she finds Clarke leaning in, kissing Harper’s cheek as the girl rests her hand on Clarke1s stomach.. Lexa can’t breathe – there’s a tightness in her chest that she can’t will away and the lump in her throat won’t let the air reach her lungs.
The kiss seems to be a farewell, as Clarke turns her back to the group and walks toward Lexa. She seems care free for the first time since Lexa had met her – her smile comes easy and she tosses her wet hair away from her face as she sprints the rest of the short way until Lexa. The sight is beautiful – yet, it makes Lexa’s heart ache. It was Harper who made her laugh like this, not her.
Clarke comes into her personal space, breath hitching slightly, and leans in, sealing their lips together for a moment before stepping back, beaming at her – this was one of the Skaikru’s oddest traditions to Lexa, who still had trouble displaying that kind of affection in public even though the whole kingdom knew they were together.
“Hi, babe,” Clarke said brightly and Lexa forced her anger to simmer down a little – she had her own nickname for Clarke, a word in Trigedasleng that she never dared to explain to the blonde, and while she kept it private, Clarke used it whenever they were close enough for no one else to hear.
The word would usually soothe whatever bitterness the day had gotten into her. Right now, it didn’t nothing but add fire to her anger.
Without answering her in any fashion, Lexa stares down at Clarke before turning, knowing the blonde would follow her. She hears her name being called out but she refuses to turn around – she strides ahead, chin up and jaw clenched.
They enter the Commander’s quarters and silence weighs heavy on them. Without the quiet talk in the street to fill it, Lexa realizes how fast her heart is beating, how erratic her breathing has become, how wet her eyes were. She takes a second to gather her bearings and it takes a conscious effort for her to unclench her jaw and undo the ball her fists had become. Breathing in and out feels like a chore and when Clarke’s worried voice calls her name once again, she snaps.
Lexa turns, hair almost whipping her face as she marches toward Clarke, backing her up to a wall, angry tears tainting her eyes red, “She does not get to touch you like that,” Lexa all but screams, personal space forgotten as Lexa reacts to a threat the only way she knows how, not even bothering to give Clarke some context as she pinks the blonde against the wall, hands on each side of her head, firmly pinning her in place. “She’s not allowed to whisper in your ear, to kiss you, to-“ Lexa stops, bile threatening to rise and tears to fall. She clenches her jaw again, so hard she’s almost afraid her teeth will crack. “I’m the only one who has the right to-“
She has to cut her message short, knowing she won’t be able to control herself if she tries to power through it. Clarke blinks, taking it all in, “Is this- is this about Harper?” Lexa’s chest heaves as the name leaves Clarke’s mouth and she punches the wall, muttering profanities in her own language, “Are you jealous?”
Lexa could almost see a laugh forming on Clarke’s lips, “I’m not petty, I don’t do jealousy,” Lexa’s words come out as nothing but a weak attempt to mask the festering rage in her chest as her nails scrape the wall beside Clarke’s head, “I’m not jealous of that-“ Lexa stops before uttering the less than flattering adjective she’s been relating to Harper all day.
Clarke’s hands travel up Lexa’s thighs and grip her waist firmly, stifling a laugh and cocking her head to the side, “That what?”
Showing her teeth like a caged animal would, Lexa hisses, “You’re mine,” she leans in a fraction of an inch, watching as the mockery in Clarke’s face turns into concern, “You’re mine and no one else’s,” she repeats and her voice shakes, tears stubbornly falling down her cheeks, “You’re mine, Clarke.”
Her name comes out as a prayer and Lexa drops her head at the same time Clarke trails her hand up her body, until she’s cradling her face, thumb grazing her cheek, “I’m yours.” Lexa stares at blue eyes through heavy tears before dropping her head to Clarke’s shoulder, letting the tears fall as the blonde whispers into her hair, “Only yours.”