#clexa au: days of crisis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missluthorwillseeyounow · 6 years ago

Photo

The Nightblood Project

Clexa / Supercorp AU where Lexa is the genetically engineered product of one of Lex Luthor’s experiments

"Miss Griffin, I’m afraid you---”

Maybe I’m just a kid to you. I mean, I’m just some dumb teenager, and Jesus, you’re Lena freaking Luthor, but.... do you know what it’s like when you’ve spent your life seeing only in black and white? Not bad, not unhappy, just black and white, not knowing any different -- and then suddenly... suddenly someone extraordinary comes along and opens your eyes. And it’s like an explosion of color -- colors you never even knew existed -- and it’s intense and overwhelming. There’s so much of it and it hurts, but it’s -- it’s beautiful. God, it’s so fucking beautiful, every color takes your breath away, and you wouldn’t go back to black and white, even if you could..... That’s her. That’s Lexa. So yeah, I’ll keep coming back until you let me see her. Because that’s who she is for me.”

Yeah, I wrote and made this moodboard at 3am and I haven’t had any sleep. Also disclaimer, I know nothing about cloning, genetic manipulation or the American foster care system. And here we go:

In this AU, Lex Luthor made some experiments to make meta humans when he was in his early 20s (maybe around 24 or so, and his baby sister Lena was 10)

He was experimenting with cloning and genetic manipulation, and he was eventually successful, producing the first cloned human, a baby girl he named Lexa.

One of the things that he was also working on was encoding his newly developed anti-alien AI (A.L.I.E) into the human genome.

After Lexa was created, Lex wanted to perform further invasive experiments on her.

However, one of his chief scientists, Becca Pramheda, whose misgivings about the study had been previously rejected, felt it was unethical to do that to an infant, and refused

Becca took Lexa and ran away to hide the baby from Lex. In my hc, he somehow caught up to her and killed her.

But before she died, she managed to leave Lexa in a hospital. She enters the foster care system and Lex doesn't find her.

When Lex is finally sent to prison for his crimes, Lena inherits all of his work (this would be around 2 years before the show)

Lena finds classified redacted documents detailing the experiment, called the Nightblood Project (so named because Lexa’s blood came out black as a side effect of the genetic manipulation). The documents are incomplete because Becca took some of the info with her during their escape, but Lena discovers a picture of baby Lexa and becomes determined to find her.

Lena finds her across the country in National City after an exhaustive year long search. Lexa is 15 at this time, and currently living in a group home.

Lexa has spent most of her life moving from one foster home to another, but the home she’s in now is one of the most stable she’s had. It’s run by a giant of a man named Gustus Paunovic, who is as soft-hearted as he is tough.

There are seven other kids in the group home, and Lexa is the eldest. Anya, the big sister who was the eldest, aged out of the system a few years ago and left. Lexa looks after each and every single one of the younger kids. Protects them, makes sure that none of them get into trouble, holds the little ones after a nightmare.

Lena makes contact with her, and it’s hard at first, because Lexa is distrustful and not inclined to believe anything a Luthor says, especially since Lex Luthor’s arrest made national news.

Eventually, Lena manages to convince her, using a story that they’re related (which isn’t really a lie, considering Lexa shares Lex’s DNA, if genetically manipulated).

But Lexa refuses to go with Lena to Metropolis and leave her family (”They’re my people. They need me.”).

The social worker, a sharp, no-nonsense woman who’d introduced herself as Indra Porter, looks at Lena with something close to sympathy in her eyes. “I am truly sorry, Miss Luthor. I know you mean well, I can see that, but I cannot, in good conscience, place one of my charges in the custody of --”

“Of a Luthor.” Lena finishes, with a well-concealed note of bitterness in her tone. The look Ms. Porter gives her says that she heard it anyway.

“Yes.” The other woman’s voice is firm, but not unkind. “You know -- better than I do, I’m sure -- the notoriety that has attached itself to your last name, especially with your brother’s recent trials, and I don’t believe that it would be in Lexa’s best interest to be attached to it at this point in her life. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re right.” Lena nods, thinking of the past year living under the shadow of Lex’s trials, and her own childhood blighted by the Luthor name. “Lexa’s well-being should come first.”

(I might throw in Costia there too somewhere)

Anyway, Lena concedes, and goes back to Metropolis, but Lexa agrees to visit her there.

I kinda just really want to give both of them someone they can slowly open up to so they can begin to trust family again, cause they’ve both been screwed over by “family”

At some point, Lena tells Lexa the truth. Imagine angsty little baby Lexa when she finds out she's "not human " but a "science project" of Lex's. (TW: implied self-harm)

There’s never really been anything unusual about Lexa, and it’s easy to slip between the cracks when you’re a foster kid. She’s ordinary. Normal.

But she remembers that one time -- that one foster kid she’d been living with when she was 9 -- Quint, who loved to bully the younger kids. He’d been taunting Costia because of her wild curly hair -- curlier even than Lexa’s, and flying all over the place in a corkscrew cloud that Lexa loved -- and Lexa had shouted at him to leave her alone! Quint had pushed her to the ground and she’d skinned her knee.

It had bled, and Costia had screamed because her blood looked black and she had sounded so scared, that Lexa had forgotten about her black blood and instead reared up and tackled Quint to the ground, walloping him across the nose with her hardbound copy of Les Misérables from the library, and it had been Quint who bled then, not her.

Now, Lexa wonders if she’ll bleed black just like she did then. The only thought that permeates the numb haze in her mind as the sharp edge of the knife blade glides across her skin is that there’s only one way to find out.

Lena helps her through the crisis that follows when she discovers the truth (cos it’s not like she can just put her in therapy, considering the nature of her secret, and it’s not like Lena’s favorite repressive coping mechanism of “little boxes” is gonna help). I just want Lena to give Lexa the acceptance and the reassurance that she would need to face who and what she is

It’s not okay, not really, because how could it be, when everything she knew about herself has been turned on its head? But life goes on. It has to. And Lexa has always been a survivor.

Lexa only shares the truth with Anya (maybe Gustus and Indra). Lena makes herself available to answer all of Lexa’s questions, but the one thing she refuses to do is to perform further tests and experiments on Lexa (”Becca died trying to stop Lex from experimenting on you. The least I can do is honor that. I won’t be like my brother.”)

Just to be clear, in my AU, Lena isn’t averse to human trials and experiments (see Adam), but Lexa is different. A) she’s only 16, she’s underage and B) In a short amount of time, Lexa has become family. More family than Lillian, or even Lex.

Eventually, Lexa becomes a staple at Luthor Corp whenever she’s in Metropolis. And it's not a big deal for her to come striding into Lena's office, still in her school clothes. Sometimes she'll just lounge around in Lena's office, earbuds in, doing her homework, while Lena works at her desk.

Sometimes, Lena will be walking around Luthor Corp and Lexa will be walking beside her, quietly observing and learning

Lexa has an aptitude for science, but it's the day to day management of the conglomerate she's more interested in (”You’re a leader, Lexa. One look at you, and anyone can tell. People want to follow you.”)

Eventually, it’s Lexa who convinces Lena to move to National City. Not only because that’s where she lives, but also because she’s seen the bad blood between the people of Metropolis and the Luthor name

(’’There’s nothing for you here, Lena. Take it from someone who knows. I always used to hate moving homes. I hated change, I just wanted to find a place where I could stay forever and never have to leave. But I learned that sometimes, when 'home’ has become a bad place, that change is a necessity, if you want to survive. You can’t survive here in Metropolis, Lena. Lex is like a knife at your back, and being in this place just twists it in even further.”)

So a year later, Lena moves to National City and rebrands the company to L-Corp.

Lexa’s around 17 at this time, and Lena puts her (and all her foster siblings) in a good school and tries to give her as many opportunities as she herself got as a Luthor (without the emotional abuse she got from Lillian).

It’s at Arkadia Prep that she meets Clarke.

In the beginning, she sees Clarke as this spoiled little rich girl, the popular “Princess”, and Clarke sees her as competition, because from the start, Lexa proves herself to be exceptional. She may not have had the background that the Arkadia kids have, but she’s a voracious reader and a quick study, and she has street smarts they don’t.

A few months into term, and Lexa is already climbing to the top of the academic ladder -- narrowly unseating Clarke’s position at the top of the class, much to the other girl’s annoyance. It marks the beginning of a fierce competition -- Lexa beats Clarke at debate, Clarke beats her marks in Biology, Lexa kicks her ass at PE, Clarke beats her out as the lead of the school play.

It’s something almost... enjoyable, Lexa thinks. She’s used to working twice as hard as everyone else -- it makes her better, smarter, stronger, quicker -- and Clarke likes a challenge, she can tell.

And it turns out they work even better together. They find this out when they’re forced to work together in a debate against another school in a televised event. They have fun absolutely decimating their rivals, and wiping the smirks off of Cage Wallace and Diana Syndney’s smug faces.

They begin to talk more. Clarke tells Lexa about her dad, who died in a car crash two years before. Lexa tells Clarke things about herself in increments: first she talks about the kids in the group home, then about Gustus and Anya, then about Costia, then about Lena.

Of course, Lexa doesn’t tell Clarke everything. Some things can’t be spoken of, not even to this girl who is fast becoming her friend. She never mentions Lex. Or her black blood.

Clarke introduces Lexa to her friends: Wells, Raven, Octavia, Bellamy, Monty and Jasper. They like her immediately, especially since Lexa is one of the few people who can shut Clarke up.

Pretty soon, Clarke and Lexa are best friends. Raven and Octavia would be jealous about this if it weren’t completely obvious how much Clarke and Lexa are beginning to enjoy each other’s company.

Around Lexa, Clarke is calmer, less loud and harsh, more centered. And around Clarke, Lexa is warmer, the edges of her mouth softer and more prone to smiling.

Lexa’s first move to officially welcome Lena to National City is to introduce her to Clarke. She’s heard that Lena was practically accosted by those reporters after the Venture incident, and invites her to coffee with them (as if it were a random outing and not something Lexa’s been nervous about for months).

Lena explains that it’s fine, the reporters were polite and mild-mannered, and one of them was quite cute. Lena doesn’t say that it was Kara Danvers who caught her eye, and not the famous Clark Kent.

Lena just sits back and sips her coffee -- watching the Clarke and Lexa talk quietly together, shoulders brushing, exchanging soft smiles over their coffee cups -- and she thinks she’s never seen Lexa this loose, this happy.

At some point, during one of Kara’s increasingly regular visits to Lena, she finds Lexa sitting on Lena’s couch (on Kara’s spot, the blonde thinks before quickly shaking her head), reading a hefty chemistry book while listening to music, occasionally asking Lena for help with a particularly complicated problem.

She first introduces Lexa to Kara as the daughter of a friend, just as she introduces her to everyone else, but Kara notices that there are too many similarities between them for them not to be related.

Not so much in appearance, though they both have the trademark Luthor green eyes, but in personality (both introverted but highly capable leaders, the keen intellect, the kill you with an eyebrow raise vibe)

Lexa likes Kara, and though she doesn’t know her that well, she knows Lena well enough by now to know that Lena is smitten.

“She called you Lee.”

“What?” Lena asks absentmindedly, her eyes still on Kara as she walks out of her office. Lexa smirks.

“You hate being called Lee. You threatened to disown me if I ever called you Lee. But you let Kara call you Lee.” Lexa repeats the name several times just because she knows it will irk Lena. “You’re such a useless lesbian.”

Lena throws her a glare through narrowed eyes. “And you hate being called Lex. As a matter of fact, Anya told me the last person who called you Lex ended up with a black eye.”

“Your point being?”

“Last week I heard Clarke say ‘Bye, Lex’ over the phone before you hung up. I’m just saying, I’m not the only useless lesbian in this family.”

“Fair enough.” Lexa retreats behind her calculus textbook, but not before Lena sees the happy little smile that can’t help but stretch over the younger girl’s face -- whether it’s at the mention of Clarke, or the word “family”, Lena will never know.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s just glad it’s there.

Eventually Lena has to tell Supergirl the truth about Lexa (I’m still undecided whether or not Lena knows that Kara is Supergirl at this point), and it causes a rift between the two of them.

Yeah, instead of a Kryptonite rift, I made Lexa the cause of the rift between Kara and Lena. Because the moment she finds out about Lexa’s true nature, the dynamic between Kara and Lexa (which had previously been friendly enough, now becomes visibly strained).

Kara becomes suspicious of Lexa. In the back of her mind, she’s like yeah she seems like a great kid, and it seems preposterous that she could hurt anyone, at this point there doesn't seem to be anything unusual about Lexa aside from her black blood

But the little voice in the back of Kara’s head pipes up ‘who's to say Lex didn't implant something in her?’ He’d already genetically engineered her, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to suspect that it was for nefarious purposes.

Kara, as Supergirl, becomes frustrated because Lena won’t even consider the possibility of running tests on Lexa.

After one particular argument between the two of them, where Kara had suggested testing for Lexa, just to make sure that she doesn't have any genetic mutations (and she's not gonna Lex out all over the place), Lena is fuming and ranting about Supergirl.

Lexa manages to persuade her to watch movies with her while eating ice cream in bed

Lexa broaches this topic carefully over spoonfuls of Lena’s favorite coffee ice cream. "You're a scientist, Lena. Aren't you curious?"

Lena scoffs, attacking the pint with a spoon, imagining that the ice cream is Supergirl’s eyes she’s trying to gouge out. Gone is the deadly calmness she’d displayed in front of the super during their argument. Now she’s all petty spite.

"Of course i'm curious, Lexa. But I won't let my scientific curiosity overtake my love for you.” She huffs, still seething. “This is the exact reason why Becca took you away, why she died trying to keep you from Lex. You are a person, Lexa. Not some science project. You don't deserve to be studied like a lab rat."

Lexa goes quiet for a long time. When Lena looks at her again, she finds the younger girl staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

"You love me?"

And just like that, the spite is gone, and all Lena feels is a lump in her throat.

This might be the first time Lexa ever heard someone say that to her, and the first time Lena ever said that to anyone and truly meant it.

Her face softens and she reaches out to tug softly, affectionately, on a lock of Lexa’s hair. "Of course I love you, Lexa. You're family -- probably the only real family I've had.... I love you, okay?"

Lexa seems too overcome with emotion to meet her eye, and Lena can understand that. She feels quite overwhelmed as well, but it’s a warm, lovely feeling she keeps close to her heart, not one she wants to store in a box.

So she lets Lexa look away and fiddle with her ice cream spoon. But she can hear the happiness in Lexa’s whispered "Okay."

Lexa does eventually volunteer to get tested at the DEO herself, as a sort of compromise to keep the peace between Lena and Supergirl. Also so Lexa can find out more about herself. She’s still trying to process the truth, but she’s gotten to a point where she’s developed a curiosity about her nature.

It still causes a bit of a rift between Lena and Kara, and Lena only concedes to Lexa's decision if she and an L-Corp lawyer are present during the testing to protect Lexa.

Anya also accompanies them. At this point, I’m considering bringing Anya into the DEO, I think she’d be a perfect fit as a (somewhat rogue) field agent there.

The rift between Kara and Lena grows. Part of Kara knows she was in the wrong for insisting on experimentation for Lexa, but there’s still a need to know if there’s a threat.

The DEO doesn’t find anything, except for a minor anomaly in one of Lexa’s chromosomes. But it doesn’t seem to have an effect on her, except that it resulted in Lexa’s black blood.

At some point afterward, however, Lex is released from prison, and he discovers that Lena has found Lexa. He sets up a “nice family reunion”, renders Lena unconscious and abducts Lexa.

There’s no fear in Lexa when she first meets Lex, and that seems to please him. He’s sitting in front of a large computer machine the purpose of which eludes Lexa. He tells her about the AI he and Becca Pramheda created, A.L.I.E., and how he implanted it into Lexa’s DNA upon creating her. Becca didn’t know that his purpose for the AI was to use it to rid the world of aliens, and when she found out about it, she had immediately protested it. By that stage, however, it was too late to stop the process, the embryo had been created and Lexa was formed.

By this time, Lena has regained consciousness, and Lexa sees her signaling to keep quiet as she attempts to sneak up behind Lex. Lexa stalls him and gets him to tell her the machine’s purpose -- which is to activate A.L.I.E. remotely.

As Lex cuts Lexa’s palm and feeds her black blood into the scanner on the machine, Lena hits him over the head and renders him unconscious before he can complete the sequence.

Lena and Lexa escape, just as Supergirl and the DEO arrive to capture Lex again. The DEO take him into custody, but instead of being hysterical, Lex just smiles at his sister and his clone.

Life almost goes back to normal again, but then one day, Lex is observed muttering a phrase in his cell. Once, twice, three times, just to make sure.

“Blood must have blood.”

At the same time, miles away across the city, Lexa drops to the floor in the middle of chemistry class, her nose bleeding.

Clarke is right beside her in seconds, but Lexa regains consciousness almost immediately, and for a half a second, Clarke sees her eyes flash, enveloped almost entirely by black. Then she’s standing up, and leaving the classroom without a word.

Clarke tries to follow her, but the teacher keeps her from leaving. The teacher does try to follow her, and doesn’t return. After a few minutes the class goes to check and finds the teacher passed out on the floor. No one knows where Lexa has gone.

The DEO gets a call about an attack that’s happening on an alien support group happening downtown. It’s a panicked 911 call from a K’Hund, screaming for help and yelling “She’s killing everyone!”

When they get there, almost everyone is dead. No less than ten aliens are lifeless on the floor. The only one left alive is the K’Hund, who lives only long enough to describe their attacker

(I had half a mind to have put Lexa in ALIE’s red dress, but overkill)

Supergirl and Alex get enough of the description to realize who it was. They quickly call Lena and devise a plan to stop and contain Lexa.

They’re too late.

Alex disconnects the call with a heavy feeling in her gut, and turns back to Lena’s office where she sees Kara, in full Supergirl regalia, reach out to touch Lena’s folded arms tentatively, as if unsure how Lena would take it. The other woman is so tense, Alex worries she’ll snap once she gives her the news.

Her gut twists for Lena, who must be sick with worry and anguish and fear and guilt. For her sister, who would never say ‘I told you so’ but ached at being proven right.

Hell, for Lexa. Because Alex knows Lexa and she knows with wholehearted certainty that Lexa would never do this of her own free will -- not the girl who smiled shyly in response to Eliza’s motherly attention as she drew her blood for testing, not the girl who sat across from Alex at Thanksgiving and teased Kara for being such a dork around Lena, not the girl who spoke about her little brothers and sisters at the group home with such affection and pride.

By now, Kara and Lena notice her appearance. Lena squares her shoulders, and Alex knows she’s preparing for the worst. “Tell me.”

“Thirty-two people this time. She attacked a gathering of Starhavenites downtown...” Alex informs her, straightforward but with as much gentleness as she can muster. God, forty-two aliens slaughtered by a 17 year old girl. She wishes the same fate could be visited on Lex Luthor, smiling serenely in his cell. “There is some good news: no one recognized her.”

It is good news in a way, because this needs to be contained as much as possible, not just because of the threat, but because Lexa needs to have something to come back to when this is all over, and she won’t have that if the world knows what she’s done.

“But... that’s only because she didn’t leave any survivors this time.”

Eventually, they manage to stop Lexa at the source. Lena figures out how to disable to computer that feeds ALIE, but the only problem is, it deactivates the ALIE chromosome inside Lexa, and Lexa’s body shuts down (just go with it, I don’t know what I’m doing).

Lexa falls into a coma, and she’s brought to the DEO. They try to revive her, but to no avail. Lena initially wants to bring her to the L-Corp labs, so she can work on a cure, but Alex tries to gently explain to her that Lexa still needs to be contained. Forty-two people are dead, whether or not Lexa was controlled by ALIE while she was doing it.

Lena complies only very reluctantly, and all but moves into the DEO to try and find a cure for Lexa. Kara helps her as much as she can, using her investigative skills to find out more about Becca Pramheda, while Lena tries to find out how to permanently inactivate the ALIE chromosome.

She leaves Sam and Jess in charge of L-Corp, and only returns there when Jess calls to tell her that a group of young students from Arkadia Prep are outside her office, insisting on seeing Lexa.

She listens to Jess rattle off names until a voice that Lena recognizes as Clarke’s interjects impatiently “We just want to know if Lexa’s okay. Please!”

Lena returns to her office to confront Lexa’s friends. She tells them that Lexa is safe, but is being treated for a rare medical condition but is unable to receive visitors.

Everyone is convinced and reassured, except for Clarke. She hangs back after everyone has left.

“I saw her blood when she passed out with a nose bleed. It was black. My Mom is a doctor, and she says that's impossible. She says it might be an infection, or a side effect of drugs. Is it.... Oh, God...”

Clarke’s lower lip trembles as a look of utter devastation crosses her face. Her voice is small and barely above a whisper as she asks Lena “Is she dying?”

Lena nearly chokes, and she has no words of comfort that she can offer the young girl. “No.... No, but she’s not doing well.”

Clarke sniffs, tears starting to stream down her face. “I knew it. I knew when I saw her blood was black, that it wasn’t good. Oh, God, she... she can’t die. You can’t let her die.”

“She’s stable for now. As for her blood, I can’t tell you about that. It’s... it’s not my secret to tell.”

Clarke looks up at her, relief plain in her eyes at the knowledge that Lexa wasn’t in immediate danger, and gives a shaky laugh. “I thought -- I thought maybe her blood was black because she’s an alien. My best friend’s an alien. And that didn’t even bother me, that she might not be human. I don’t give a fuck. I just -- I just want her back.”

Lena manages to convince Clarke to go home, but she goes back to L Corp every day after school to ask to see Lexa. Lena knows the DEO is no place for a teenager, so she keeps refusing, until one particular day, Clarke breaks down and asks Lena to give Lexa her debate team jacket (”I just want her to have a piece of me, so she knows that she’s not alone, that I’m thinking about her.”)

Lena acquiesces, and brings the jacket to Lexa. She lays it on the bed beside the unconscious girl. Lena leaves her side for half an hour to have lunch with Kara, one of the few things that give Lena any consolation at this point. When she returns, she finds that Lexa has turned on her side and pulled Clarke’s jacket over shoulders, curling herself inside it. She takes a picture and shows it to Clarke when the girl shows up again at her office the next day.

Eventually, Kara’s journalistic skills pay off and she gets a lead. Becca's father had been a doomsday prepper in his time, and kept an old secret bunker under their family home for years. Kara and Lena find the unredacted files that Becca stole from the experiment inside it.

They discover that Becca had created a second AI, the Flame, and had encoded it into Lexa’s ALIE chromosome to act as a kill switch to safely inactivate it permanently, but she had been killed before she could begin the process.

Lena sets about rebuilding the machine Lex used to activate ALIE. On the day they’re about to use it, she brings Clarke along with her to the DEO, silently daring anyone to stop them (no one does).

Just before they go into Lexa’s room, Lena stops Clarke.

“You should tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Clarke asks, confused and impatient to go in and see Lexa.

“Tell her you’re in love with her.”

Clarke’s eyes are wide, but she doesn’t say anything. She just goes into the room and takes Lexa’s still hand. Lena takes the other arm and draws some of her black blood, feeding it into the machine. It starts whirring and Lena takes a deep breath before reciting the phrase she found in Becca’s notes

“Ascende Superius.”

On the bed, Lexa begins to stir. When Lexa’s eyes open, Clarke begins to cry, tangling their fingers together and pressing them to her lips.

Lena smiles and motions for Kara to follow her out of the room. Kara looks at her curiously. “You don’t wanna talk to her?”

Lena shakes her head as she looks at the two girls in the room, their foreheads touching, Clarke whispering something unintelligible in Lexa’s ear. “I think what Clarke has to say is more important.”

Kara nods, and she’s about to walk away, to tell Alex the good news, but Lena stops her with a hand on her wrist. “I have something to say as well.”

Kara waits patiently as Lena takes a deep breath, and watches curiously with cheeks tinted lightly pink when she steps closer. “I wanted to thank you, Supergirl.”

“For what?”

Lena exhales shakily. “For... For everything. For not saying ‘I told you so’ when it turned out that you were right. For staying all this time. For caring about Lexa. For not blaming her for all those deaths. For working so tirelessly with me to make sure we found a cure for her. For making sure I didn’t drown in guilt over what happened. For those daily lunches that were my saving grace. Just.... for everything.Thank you.”

Kara sees Lena lean closer, and before she can stop herself, she turns her head ever so slightly, so that Lena’s soft kiss to her cheek presses to her lips instead.

She closes her eyes and forgets to breathe.

And for one breathless second, Lena pulls away the barest inch, so that her own name whispers against her lips. “Kara...”

Kara’s eyes flutter open in shock. “You know?”

Lena nods, still not moving farther away from Kara when she would have thought that the truth would send Lena running away in anger. “I do.”

“Lena --” Kara’s voice breaks, and her hands come up to grasp Lena’s arms almost desperately, and miraculously, Lena clings back, just as tightly, with one hand, while the other comes up to touch Kara’s cheek. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how to--”

Lena shushes her with a finger to her lips. “Your actions always speak better than your words, Kara. After everything you’ve done for me, for Lexa....”

“For you.” Kara cradles Lena’s face in her hands, blue eyes earnestly seeking green. “Yes, it was for Lexa, but you have to know, it was all for you, Lena. All of it. Everything. For you.”

Lena silences her desperate words with a kiss, and Kara exhales into her mouth with relief. Their lips slide together sweetly, and Kara wants to cry, because it feels so much like coming home.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Alex’s exasperated voice rings out somewhere behind Kara. “I just left a scene like this in Lexa’s room. Jesus! Just so you know, Lexa is fine. So please, for the love of God, Lena, get your tongue out of my sister’s mouth, and take Lexa and her girlfriend home so you Luthors can stop gaying up the DEO.”

Lena laughs into Kara’s mouth, just as she pulls away, and Kara wants to chase after her lips to chase the delicious vibrations of that laugh again. “You do an excellent job of that all by yourself, even without our help, Agent Danvers.”

“Fuck you, Luthor.”

_________________

By SorrowsFlower

Oh, thank God. I finally managed to get this out of my head! It’s been stuck in there for so long. Hopefully, this is enough to exorcise it.

#supercorp #clexa #katie mcgrath #alycia debnam carey #eliza taylor #melissa benoist #lena luthor #lexa kom trikru #commander lexa #lexa woods #clarke griffin #supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #lex luthor #becca pramheda #supercorp au #clexa au #fanfic

390 notes · View notes

onemilliongoldstars · 7 years ago

Text

a crown seldom enjoyed- chapter six

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

6/25

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

Book One: Chapter 6

Lexa wakes to pain. The wound in her side is deep enough to throb to every heart beat and she lies for a moment, staring at the darkened canopy above her bed and breathing slowly in and out. This sort of pain is not unfamiliar to her; several years in the battlefield has given her plenty of scars to tell stories about, but it has been quite some time since she last received one. The sensation makes her feel powerless and utterly vulnerable, and her fingers inch under her pillow to find the cold touch of the dagger she keeps there. She is allowed only these few moments of quiet in her dark, painful world, before a hitching of her breath startles her handmaiden minder into wakefulness.

Cara hurries to her side, fussing over her anxiously, and Lexa tries to give her a weary smile, which she does not return. The girl fetches Nyko, Winterfell’s healer, who appears so quickly that Lexa fears he had been sleeping in the corridor, close at hand. The man is kindly and quiet, but firm. She had been administered milk of the poppy the day before, and despite sleeping until first light this morning she still feels tired. Nyko gives her another, smaller dose, and inspects her wound despite her protests. What he finds satisfies him.

“There is no sign of infection and the bleeding has nearly stopped.” He tells her, in his deep voice, and Lexa tries to get her swimming head to focus on his words. Nyko can see through her façade, and he laughs, touching at her shoulder in an attempt to keep her from rising. “Bed rest for at least three days.” He instructs her, firmly, and Lexa rolls her eyes, but nods her assent.

Confined to her bed, she is unable to escape the fury of both Titus and Anya, who enter her chamber as soon as Nyko deems her well enough. Anya paces and threatens and curses the soldier whose hand she put her sword in. She is still without her cloak and Lexa makes a mental note to have another one made for her. It is strange to see her without it. For once, Titus agrees with her, and together they are halfway to planning the man’s death before Lexa can stop them. She doesn’t dare to say that she was distracted by the sight of a certain golden haired visitor talking with her guard and a stranger Lexa didn’t recognise. It takes almost an hour of convincing to make them leave, and when she eventually pleads that her injury is paining her, Anya casts her s suspicious glance as she walks out of the door.

Aden comes to sit with her throughout the day, and his company is much kinder to her spirit than her angry advisors. She sits up in bed and talks him through her correspondence, explaining their relationship to the Iron Bank and the yield needed on the early spring crops to make up for the long winter. He concentrates for some time, but when the sun has crested in the sky she can see that his eyes dart to the window and knows that she has kept him in her dark rooms for too long.

Alone for the afternoon, she sleeps for fleeting moments, and picks at the abundance of dishes sent up to her from the kitchen. Sweet milk and thinly sliced apples, porridge mixed with honey and dates and a soft, sweet sponge stack up along her bed, interspersed with the letters and parchments, but she has little appetite for it. The direwolves lie about her floor. They are often to be found together when she is injured, and they flop about the room, grooming one another and dozing. Liberty rests her head on the bed where Lexa can stroke it and she offers bites of her food to Patience and Faith when they whine. When the kitchen girl appears for the fifth time to deposit a light chicken broth, she tuts quietly at the food leftover and Lexa is sure that she will report her to Leanna.

As the kitchen girl leaves, Cara appears at her bed chamber door, shifting unhappily from foot to foot and Lexa gestures for her to speak.

“Lady Clarke is in your solar, my queen. She’s asking to see you.”

“Oh,” Lexa glances down at herself, sat in her great bed with food and dogs and books around her, and flushes. “I suppose-”

“I did tell her you were not to be moved, your majesty.” Cara grumbles, “And that it wouldn’t do to have you receive her in your chamber.”

“It’ll be fine, Cara,” Lexa soothes her handmaiden and gestures to the bed. “If you could just…”

“Of course,” Cara steps around the direwolves as if they were pups, well used to their presence, and even dares to shoo Liberty off the bed. The sandy beast growls lowly, but scampers off the bed at Cara’s firm expression. She collects all of the platters and dishes and puts them to one side as Lexa piles together her parchments and books. After a moment of hesitation, Cara reaches behind her to help readjust her pillows, until she can sit up straight and pull her long braid over one shoulder. She is already wearing a heavy, fur lined robe to cover her decency, but Cara smooths the bed covers out and adds a grey fur on top.

“Alright,” Lexa says at last, “See her in.”

Lady Clarke enters hesitantly at Cara’s side. Her golden hair falls in waves about her shoulders, braided in a softer pattern than Lexa has seen it in before, and the blue velvet of her dress, with it’s long sleeves and golden trim, make her eyes seem as deep as the sapphire pendant around her neck. She pauses in the doorway, her eyes taking in every inch of the room, before landing on Lexa, sat calm and serene in her large bed.

“Lady Clarke,” She says, with as much dignity as she can offer. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Lady Clarke drops a small curtsey, her eyes flickering over the direwolves nervously. “And thank you for allowing me an audience.”

“Of course,” Lexa bows her head courteously. “What can I do for you?”

Lady Clarke hesitates and then says, slowly, “I actually- just wanted to see how you are.”

“Oh,” Lexa tries desperately to school her expression into something other than shock, but based on the look Cara has on her face she is unsuccessful. “I- I see. Well, please take a seat.” She gestures around the room in general and Lady Clarke’s eyes flicker to one of the many comfortable arm chairs in the corners of the room, before her eyes find the high backed chair at Lexa’s side, which Aden had dragged closer earlier. A flicker of determination passes through the crease in her eyes and the set in her lips, and Lexa tries not to be impressed when she lifts her skirts around her ankles and steps carefully around the direwolves until she can settle into that chair.

Lexa’s eyes move to Cara’s waiting figure and she says. “You can leave us Cara, thank you.”

Cara’s eyes flicker between them, but she gives a curtsey and then Lexa is alone in a room with Clarke of House Tyrell, as she has never been before.

A moment of awkward silence passes between them, before Lexa says, a little haltingly.

“You were good to come, Lady Clarke. I am quite well.”

“So your healer told me.” Clarke’s eyes pass over her body and Lexa feels exposed, despite the many layers covering her. She remembers clearly the feeling of Lady Clarke’s hands on her skin, her eyes so intense and fierce above her. “I wanted to see for myself. I’m rather invested in your recovery.”

“That’s understandable,” Lexa concedes. “I was hoping to have the opportunity to thank you more formally when I am able, but I’d like to thank you-”

“I didn’t come here for thanks,” Clarke cuts through her and a beat of silence, surprised and still, passes between them before Lexa says, softly.

“Regardless, I am thankful. Nyko says you could well have saved my life.”

Clarke snorts at that, “I doubt that, you’re wound isn’t that deep and I’m sure Lady Mormont would have figured out to add pressure.”

“Still, it was you who moved first.” Lexa’s eyes meet hers and in the low afternoon light streaming in from the window, Lady Clarke looks like one of the great stained windows in the septs, soft and glowing. “I remember that.”

“One of the downsides of being so awed is that people don’t know what to do in a crisis, I imagine,” Clarke fixes her with a smile and she laughs, brows creasing when she jars her wound.

“I suppose so. It is a good thing you are not so awed.”

“I knew it would be useful.”

Lexa’s eyes move over her, surveying the southern lady closely and she is serious when she speaks again. “Why did you do it?”

Lady Clarke’s eyes crease, lips parting softly in surprise, “What?”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t like me or my ways.” She keeps her voice steady and even, no accusation. “Why try so hard to help someone you despise?” It is a question afforded to them by their privacy, never would Lexa ask this in front of her court. But here in the quiet of her chambers, she is able to talk freely.

For a moment it seems as though Clarke will not answer, her eyes fixed to the bed coverings, and Lexa almost opens her mouth to excuse her, but then the southern lady speaks.

“Do you really think so little of me that I would let you die just because we disagreed?”

Lexa’s brows crease, her mouth dropping open, “No, of course not.”

“That is what you just asked me, though.” Clarke’s eyes meet hers and the hurt she sees in the twist of her face is almost painful. “I knew that northerners hated southerners but I didn’t think-”

“Lady Clarke,” Her hand reaches out before she even realises it, and her fingers brush across Clarke’s softly. Clarke jolts, surprised, and wide eyes meet hers. “Forgive me, that was not what I meant. I would never question your honour like that, I know that you are a brave and dignified woman.”

Lexa sees her swallow heavily before she speaks. “Thank you.” Her eyes flicker away and Lexa withdraws her hand, suddenly distinctly aware of the contact. “I may not agree with you, your majesty, but I have no wish to see you harmed. You are an honest, kind woman and a good queen to your people.” Her eyes dart back to Lexa and she says, her voice stilted with forced mirth. “Besides, for all I know you are the only person here between Lady Anya and I, and I fear she wants to rip my throat out.”

She laughs again, and hears the soft, husky sound of Clarke’s laughter join hers. “That may be true,” She concedes, “But now that you’ve saved my life, I think Lady Anya will be in your debt.”

“I hope not,” Clarke confesses, still smiling. “I would not know what to do with her gratitude.”

“It is rarely given,” Lexa admits, and smooths down the pelt across her legs. “But you are safe I think, from what I have heard this morning she has focused her attentions on the soldier I trained with.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Lady Clarke rolls her eyes, and Lexa’s brows shoot up, her lips twitching at the sight of such impertinence.

“Oh really?”

Lady Clarke pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, answering surely. “He was a green recruit, he must have known no better and been desperate to prove himself to his queen. Besides,” She sets the queen with a look quite unlike any Lexa has ever seen, “You were training with Valyrian steel, you both deserved to lose a finger at least.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, “You recognise Valyrian steel?”

“My father’s blade is made of the stuff,” Clarke tells her, and her eyes soften. “I almost lost many fingers to it when I was a child, I know it’s dangerous.” There is a moment of silence between them, Clarke’s eyes hazy with thought. “Have you heard anything from him?” She asks, abruptly, and Lexa blinks, surprised.

“I’m afraid not,” The girl’s face falls at her words, and she attempts to joke. “But I have also heard less from your mother, for which I thank you.”

“Oh,” Clarke smiles again, though it is with exasperated good humour, “You’re welcome, though I now receive three letters from her for every one I return.”

“I’m sure she misses her daughter,” Lexa placates, and Clarke’s brows draw together, but she is saved from answering by Faith’s approaching figure.

Lady Clarke flinches away, just slightly, as the direwolf noses at her leg curiously, and Lexa can see how her body has become stiff and fearful.

“They will not hurt you,” She tells her, quietly, and Clarke startles at the sound.

“I just- they are such queer creatures. So foreign to me.”

“You must have heard stories,” Lexa pats at the bed invitingly, and Liberty resumes her place from earlier, curling up to place her large head on Lexa’s lap. Her tongue pokes from her mouth and her eyes close immediately as Lexa begins scratching between her ears. “But they are not the fearsome creatures you have heard of, not really. Like any animal, if you treat them with respect they will return it.”

Clarke’s eyes flicker down to where Faith looks at her, hopefully and Lexa gestures at the platters on the table beside her bed, within reach.

“Try to feed her, maybe that’s what she wants.”

Clarke reaches out, and takes a piece of juicy venison from off the plate, holding it cautiously out for Faith. The direwolf immediately darts forward, eating it from her fingers and licking off the juice for good measure. It startles a surprised laugh from Clarke’s mouth and when she looks up at Lexa it is with amazement. Lexa can feel an answering smile pulling at her own lips and she nods to the dish. Slowly, Clarke feeds Faith until the plate is empty and the direwolf, seeming to sense it, rumbles a soft gratitude and puts her head into Clarke’s lap.

Clarke stares down at her, looking to Lexa for help and at her instruction, she runs a tentative hand down Faith’s white fur.

“I’m afraid you have no venison left,” She says, quietly and Lexa shakes her head.

“I have enough food left to feed the whole of Winter Town, I’m glad it went to someone who enjoyed it.”

Clarke hums her agreement, and is quiet again, running her hands over Faith’s ears. The direwolf’s tail is wagging softly on the floor, swishing with every movement and the sound is enough to send Lexa to sleep, until Clarke says.

“Thank you… for the lemon cakes.”

“Oh,” Lexa’s face heats at the mention of the treats and when her eyes meet Clarke’s it is with a terrible uncertainty that she has never felt before. What she finds is blue, clear and bright, and she drowns in it. “It was my pleasure.”

---

The queen’s chambers are lit with soft candles and a fire flickering in the hearth when Anya steps in. There are tapestries on many of the walls, thick and woven with earthy tones, and rolled scrolls litter many of the surfaces. She finds the queen sat at her table, a long structure made from dark ironwood and groaning under the weight of the many books and parchments she has piled it with. Lexa is holding a letter, her eyes focused, and she twists a dagger absent mindedly between her fingers as she reads.

“You’ll bleed yourself dry if you’re not careful.” Anya’s voice makes her startle, the dagger falling to the table with a clatter. “Not that you haven’t already tried,” Anya adds, eyes sliding down her body critically. Lexa is still a little pale, but other than her stiff movement there is no sign of the wound she suffered.

“Anya,” Lexa sets down the letter she was reading, smiling at her in welcome. “I’m sure I should have the guards announce you, captain or not.”

“They’re more loyal to me than they are to you.” Anya tells her, with a shrug and when her cousin only smiles, she wanders to the counter where the wine decanter sits, pouring them each a glass before sitting in the chair across from the queen.

Lexa takes the glass, drinking gratefully. “Unfortunately I’m sure that’s true,” She sets her eyes on Anya from across the table and asks, her voice soft. “Should I be worried?”

Anya snorts, and stretches out her legs, crossing them at the ankle. The warmth from the fire soaks into her cold bones and the queen’s wine is especially fine. “You’re safe, I have no desire for the crown.”

“It is taxing at times,” Lexa admits and Anya knows that she would never say such a thing in front of anyone but her or Aden. Lexa taps the pile of letters before her, drawing Anya’s attention back, “Here, Lady Tyrell writes yet again to enquire as to the protection of her daughter.”

“Again?” Anya’s brows tick up in surprise, and she accepts the letter that Lexa holds out for her. Lady Tyrell’s handwriting is spiky and slanted, the ink dripping and smearing as if the letter had been written in some urgency, though Anya knows the woman has sent many similar letters. “You’ve already assigned the girl a constant guard, what more can the woman want?”

“For her daughter to be under lock and key, I expect,” Lexa responds, dryly, eyes flickering over another letter.

“I don’t think your southern rose would like that very much.” Anya rolls her eyes, placing the letter back on the table.

Lexa’s nose wrinkles at the nickname, but she doesn’t comment on it. “She would not. I’m sure the girl is safe enough here, she’s under my protection.”

“Does she really think so lowly of us that a northerner would attempt to murder her daughter? When we only just now have peace?”

“It seems so,” Lexa shakes her head, “No matter, I shall write to her again to tell her that her daughter is in safe hands.” Her lips quirk into a small smile, and she taps another letter with the blade of her dagger, smirking as she speaks. “This letter should amuse you more.”

“Really?” Anya’s voice is dripping with scepticism. “I am not so easily amused by royal musings as you, cousin.”

“Here,” Lexa slides the letter to her, but before Anya can begin to read she continues, “Lord Finn of House Swann writes to me to ask that I please release Lady Clarke from my clutches.”

“Your clutches?” Anya echoes, laughter bubbling in her chest as she reads. “Her ladyship is held so dear in my heart that I fear our separation may cause us both to wane away to nothingness,” She quotes, snorting. “He certainly has a way with words.”

“He seems to think I am the dragon keeping his maiden captive,” Lexa rolls her eyes, taking a sip of the heady, perfumed wine. “Despite the fact that Lady Clarke was sent up here of her own free will.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Anya mutters, and Lexa concedes.

“Her parents then. They could easily have refused the exchange.”

“It is hard to see the truth when blinded by love,” Anya offers, curtly, her lip curling with disdain. “He is a foolish young boy blinded by her beauty.”

“He is distantly in line for the throne,” Lexa admits, “He would not be an awful match for her. Perhaps they will unite when she returns home.”

“If the boy can wait that long,” Anya eyes her over the lip of her goblet and continues, cautiously. “The Tyrells are falling from favour, I hear.”

“You’re listening to palace gossip like Titus now?” Lexa’s voice is light, but there is an undertone of steel to her words.

“No, I don’t have Titus’s chain of whisperers,” Anya rolls her tongue around the words distastefully. “But Titus is anxious and when you won’t listen to him, he talks at me. Pike wields more power in the south, so they say.”

“The master of coin, more power than the Hand?” Lexa scoffs, but Anya continues.

“You and I both know that the titles given to lords are essentially meaningless once they’re on the small council. If Tyrell and the king are both weak men they could easily be swayed by the words of a stronger one, especially a Lannister with command of the most powerful armies on the continent.”

“Thelonious Jaha is not weak for pursuing peace,” Lexa snaps. “And Lord Tyrell is a quiet but strong man.” Her eyes flicker down to her desk, and her voice drops, as if she is speaking only to herself. “Look at his daughter, a weak man would not raise such a child.”

Anya’s eyes glance over the dark, bowed head before her and a flicker of worry forms in her gut, squirrelling away like a rabbit burrowing away for the summer.

“I keep my ear to the ground for news of Tris,” She tells her, quietly, and Lexa’s eyes dart up, softening.

“I understand,” Her words are cut through with pity, and Anya’s stomach turns at the sound of it. She stands abruptly, draining her wine even as Lexa continues to speak. “She is protected in the south, I promise.”

“I am only trying to keep her safe,” Her voice breaks, “And you.” Before Lexa can respond, she gives a stiff bow, suddenly desperate to be out of the dark, stuffy room. “With your leave, your majesty.” She doesn’t wait for Lexa’s answer, turning on her heel and striding from the solar before Lexa can stop her. Outside, the guards eye her strangely and she shoots them a glare so ferocious that she thinks she sees them quiver in their boots.

Her head swims with the queen’s words for the rest of the day, plaguing her. When she sees a shadowy figuring waiting for her at the entrance to the guard’s quarters later that evening, it is with a mixture of relief and exasperation that she takes her firmly by the arm, ignoring her protests, and leads her away with a stony expression. Only once they have stepped into the relative privacy of the tack room, empty and dark but for the moon shining in through the window, does she release the figure’s arm.

The woman grunts, pushing down her hood and eyeing Anya furiously as she rubs at her arm. When she opens her mouth to make her irritation known, Anya cuts through her.

“You know better than to wait for me there.”

“Nobody even looked at me twice until you grabbed me.” The woman argues, fiercely and Anya’s eyes darken.

“This is serious Reyes, no one else can know about this.”

“Why not?” Raven rolls her eyes, “I’m sure everyone from Measter Titus to the queen has secret eyes on Lady Clarke, why not you too?”

Anya takes a menacing step forwards, her voice dropping to a low murmur and she is gratified to see Raven edge a step back. “Our relationship with the south is precarious. If things go wrong, it is my sister who will be beheaded in front of the watching southerners, is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” Raven spits, burning hot with fury like the forge she slaves over.

“Good,” Anya watches the blacksmith with dark eyes, “What do you know?”

“She isn’t dangerous not really.” Raven swallows, eyes flickering to the side anxiously. “Surely you see that, she wouldn’t have saved the queen if she was. She isn’t dangerous, unless you consider arrogance a threat.”

“Arrogance can be dangerous.” Anya answers, “Has she said anything about the south?”

“Nothing of importance. Sometimes she speaks of home.”

“And her correspondence? Does she speak of that?”

“Only that her mother writes too much and her father doesn’t write at all.” Raven grunts.

“Really?” Anya’s brows crease, “Lord Tyrell doesn’t write to her? I’d heard she was favoured by her father.”

“Well, fathers don’t usually make time for their daughters when it doesn’t suit them,” Raven mutters, low and Anya’s eyes flicker over her again with a little more interest.

“Speaking from experience, Reyes?”

Raven’s face draws closed like shutters keeping out a snowstorm, “Doesn’t matter.”

Sensing the girl has no more information forthcoming, Anya pulls a few coins from her purse, offering them out. Raven pauses for a moment, her eyes flickering between Anya and the outstretched coins, before finally snatching them into her hand, her nose wrinkling with disgust. Pushing past her, Raven slips from the tack room with the silence of a ghost and Anya is left in the slither of cold light shining down from the moon above.

---

The queen’s injury means that Clarke is free to dine alone, away from the formal dining chamber in the queen’s quarters. She luxuriates in the opportunity to be away from the prying eyes of the northerners, though since the queen was wounded she finds that she is the interest of many of the small folk in Winter Town. Wherever she goes, she is followed by murmurs and curious looks, and it soon becomes tiresome enough that she requests that Raven be brought to her rooms to dine with her, rather than facing the curiosity of the crowds in the Smoking Log.

In Highgarden she would never dream of inviting a common person to dine with her, where she could be observed and whispered about by her ladies, but in Winterfell she finds she has little to lose. Raven accepts her offer graciously, and though she seems a little out of place at first, the blacksmith’s apprentice soon settles into her usual, raucous joviality. The solar the queen had offered for her use is not nearly so large and grand as her own, but it is close to Clarke’s chambers, a small, circular room with a fire to warm it and rich, light coloured draperies. Several over stuffed armchairs and a futon sit close to the fire, and a table with a top of light marble fills up the rest of the room, surrounded by chairs.

Clarke plucks a sweetbread from the platter in the table, and then pushes the tray to Octavia. The guard eyes it uncomfortably. She has been unsettled and out of place since Raven insist that she sit and dine with them. Calling upon another guard to take her place at the door, she had sunk into a chair and picked at their rich food with reluctant appreciation.

Their meals are quickly eaten, with Raven’s excessive and amusing exclamations punctuating each new course, and when they are done Clarke slides the sweetbreads and dates to one side and calls for more wine, before reaching for her cyvasse board. The checked marble tiles and beautifully engraved pieces had been a gift from her father when she left, and she runs her fingers over the delicate carving of the dragon piece, before explaining the rules to an eager Raven.

The girl is disappointed to learn that the game does not involve monetary gain, but she listens hard and after a few questions and clarifications, she picks up on the rules and strategies of the game easily.

Octavia, on the other hand, has little love for the game. She groans, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her wine as Raven considers her next move.

“You play this all the time in Highgarden?” She asks, then adds, “When there are so many other things to do?”

“My father is a fan of the game,” Clarke explains, “He learnt it from the Dornish in the south, who learnt it from traders from the east. He taught me to play.”

“Willingly?” Octavia clarifies, “Or in the same way I was taught embroidery?”

The words break Raven from her reverie and her eyes light up with mischief. “You were taught embroidery?”

Octavia rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t always a soldier, you know. Septa Ordell taught me before I became a page.”

“You were raised in the castle?” Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise, and she turns to give the soldier her full attention. “Why?”

Octavia half shrugs, and her darkened eyes tell of a story she is not willing to relive. “I had no family,” She says, succinctly, and Clarke knows her guard well enough not to press her any further.

“Did your father also teach you healing, my lady?” Raven asks, casually, but Clarke is suddenly aware of the eyes in the room upon her. As carefully as she can, she shrugs her shoulders, staring down into her wine glass.

“I only know the basics.”

“You know enough to save the queen,” Octavia counters and Clarke swirls her wine around her cup thoughtfully, watching the red liquid leave a trail of dregs behind it.

“Do you know what the most potent weapon someone can wield is?” She asks, at last and her voice is deceptively soft and easy. At their silence, she continues. “Poison.”

The quiet that spreads between them is long and heavy, pooling like blood upon the stone beneath them and she waits, trying to keep her face as impassive as possible.

At last, Octavia speaks, and her voice is dark. “I thought poison was the weapon of cowards.”

“Poison is the weapon of someone who wants to survive,” Carefully, Clarke takes hold of her dragon, moving it a few places across the board so that it directly threatens Raven’s king. “Here, what would you do, Raven?”

Raven’s eyes flicker uncertainly between her and the board, and after a few moments she reaches forward and moves her knight to intercept the dragon.

“Very good,” Clarke praises, “But you have left yourself open to your flank. You weren’t watching my priestess, because she can only move one way, but by combatting the immediate threat you have left yourself vulnerable.” She picks up the carved priestess, with a thread of blood red running through her white marble, and takes Raven’s king. When she looks up, both women are watching her with clouded expressions and she continues, quietly. “Raised in the court of the south, you learn to expect enemies from every corner. Poison is quick and leaves you with no blood on your fingers.”

She takes the priestess piece into her hands, running the pad of her thumb across the engraving. “My grandmother taught me my poisons when I was no older than five summers.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew how to heal the queen,” Octavia’s voice is dangerously low and her fingers have edged to the sword in its hilt at her side.

“To understand how poison works, you must have some understanding of the human body.” Clarke shrugs, attempting to appear unaffected. She meets Octavia’s eyes, and continues. “I have no desire to hurt your queen, Octavia. If I did, I would have let her bleed out on the training ground.”

Octavia’s eyes stare into hers for a moment, as if reading her for any deceit, but she must find none because her hand leave the hilt of her sword, and she settled back into her chair.

“But just because I do not swing a sword,” Clarke sets the priestess back onto the board, in the place that Raven’s king had occupied only moments ago. “Does not mean I am helpless.”

---

Her injury heals slowly, and at the insistence of all of her advisors she tries not to strain herself. The routine quickly wears on her, however, and Lexa quickly finds herself impatient and anxious to train again, though no one will dare to fight her in her current state. Her handmaidens accompany her everywhere but her private chambers, in case she should need something, and Anya is often on hand to give her a few strong words to keep her in line. She feels more like a prisoner than a queen, especially when Titus takes the opportunity to have endless meetings of the small council over the most mundane matters.

One night, when she is so thoroughly bored that she feels as if her brain is porridge, she dismisses Titus from her chambers and slips out into the castle corridors before one of her handmaidens can catch up with her. She knows this castle well enough that avoiding her advisors is an easy task, and the godswood provides a haven from the issues that seem to plague her every step.

Behind the tall gates, the world seems to fall away. The air is peaceful and quiet in the muffled way that seems to consume the world when the snow is heavy on the ground. Above her, the canopy of the trees that span for three acres form a skeletal roof, few leaves sprouting leaves in this wintery landscape, despite the arrival of spring. The snow crunches under foot, and she walks until she spots the heart tree, where the old gods of the north reside. The red eyes and mournful mouth of the heart tree stare down upon a figure, and Lexa’s steps falter at the sight of Lady Clarke’s kneeling form. There are flowers, tiny and white and delicate, blooming through the snow and she is sat on the grass in nothing more than a nightgown and thin blanket, threading the flowers through each other.

She hesitates, playing uncertainly with the edge of the thick fur cape around her shoulders. The weight of the silver circlet around her head feels heavier than usual, the metal cold against her skin as she watches Lady Clarke bow forwards and collect a few more of the flowers, playing with them in her lap, delicate curls escaping from the rough braid running down her back to hang around her neck and cheeks.

The burst of wind through the clearing makes her shiver, pulling her cloak closer and she sees Clarke’s shoulder curl forwards, drawing her body in tighter against the cold. Her feet carry her closer before she can stop herself and her boots are heavy against the frozen grass, drawing the girl’s head up to stare at her, blue eyes wide and startled. Clarke rushes to her feet, gathering her blanket closer around her shoulders and self consciously tucking the strands of hair behind her ears.

“Lady Clarke,” Lexa pauses a few steps away, observing the girl carefully. “You should really be more careful. It’s almost midnight, the cold is dangerous at times like this.”

“Your majesty,” Clarke tongue flickers out, licking at cold chapped lips. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“No?” Lexa’s brows furrow and she inches closer across the snow, “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable? Is it the cold?”

“Not at all,” Clarke hurries to correct her, eyes wandering to the surrounding trees, “I was simply restless… and I can see the godswood from my window.” She smiles sheepishly, “I managed to avoid my guard.”

“I can see that,” She hesitates for a beat, then adds, conspiratorially. “I have managed to avoid my advisors.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise and then her lips lift into a wide smile and she lets out a soft, golden laugh at the words. “A difficult task, I can imagine.”

“Almost impossible,” Lexa bows her head to hide her smile.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here we are,” Lexa looks back to where Clarke was sitting, “were you praying my lady? I did not mean to disturb you.”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head and a curl escapes back in front of her face again. “No, I pray in the sept. I… would not know how to pray here, though it is beautiful and peaceful.” She gathers in a breath, lips pressing shut for a moment before she glances back at Lexa with another secret, shy smile. “I was actually making garlands.”

“Garlands?” Lexa echoes and her eyes wander down to where one of Clarke’s hands appears from beneath her make shift cape, offering out the simple chain of white blossoms for inspection.

Reaching out, her fingers- rough and calloused- brush against smooth, soft skin and delicately take the flowers from her hands, turning them over carefully to look at.

“Childish I know,” Clarke sounds embarrassed, anxious to explain herself, “But back home there are so many flowers and here… there is only snow.”

“We celebrate the first blossoms here, they show that spring is coming, but if you think that snow is not just as beautiful as flowers I would have to disagree with you,” Lexa hands back the blossoms, “Please, you are cold my lady. I must insist that you return inside with me before you catch a chill. I expect your mother would pronounce war on the north yet again if you were to fall ill under my protection.”

Clarke dares to roll her eyes just slightly, but when Lexa opens the silver clasp on her fur cloak and sweeps it around Clarke’s shoulders she does not protest and accepts the hand held out for her.

Together they walk back through the godswood, Lexa carefully guiding her guest away from the icy patches of snow and the roots reaching up to grab for their ankles. Her hand feels warm on Lexa’s arm, fingers slim and grip firm.

“I must protest your majesty,” Clarke breaks the moment of quiet between them, “How could the snow ever be so beautiful as a field of wild flowers?”

Lexa considers her words, “If you would be obliging, we could journey to the Wall together once the weather is clearer. It is a spectacular sight.”

“I would like that very much.” Clarke offers her a small smile and her hand tightens when her feet stumble and Lexa reaches out to catch her, an arm slipping around her waist to stop her. Clarke’s eyes are wide with surprise, body crushed to Lexa’s chest and her hand touches gently at Lexa’s shoulder, nudging her away.

“My apologies,” Lexa blinks, stepping away and clasping her hands behind her back carefully, lips pursed. Her heart is racing, though she does not know why.

“No, no. Thank you.” She still sounds slightly breathless. They walk again, falling into a silence that is now more painful and tense than it had been before and Lexa grasps clumsily for something to break it.

“I received an interesting letter a few days ago,” She says finally, and Lady Clarke’s eyes move to her curiously. Under her gaze, Lexa explains. “Lord Finn of House Swann says he wishes to have you returned to the south, so that he can marry you.”

“Oh,” To her surprise, Clarke does not seem joyous, only amused and maybe a little exasperated. “I’m sorry, I tried to stop him.”

“You did?” Lexa’s brows shoot up and they come to a halt at the gate to the godswood. They both hesitate, as if unwilling to leave the quiet and privacy it offers them.

“You’re surprised?” Clarke counters, eyebrows rising.

“He wrote with such fervour,” Lexa elaborates, unsettled by the lady’s quiet confidence beside her. “I assumed you were already… committed to one another in some way.”

“We exchanged a kiss in the orange orchard last summer,” Lady Clarke sighs and shakes her head, “But no promises have been made and neither will they be. He was wrong to write to you, I’m sorry.”

“Well, I am glad to know that your time here is not keeping you from your beloved,” Lexa says, at last and Clarke’s cheeks seem to pink a little, the first sign of bashfulness that Lexa has seen from her.

“I assure you, it is not.”

Lexa holds out her arm once again and if Lady Clarke tucks her body a little closer this time, she can only assume it is to shelter from the cold.

#clexa #clexa gotau #clarke griffin #commander lexa #clexa fanfic

84 notes · View notes