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Lexa sends her a mountain lion first thing in the morning after the fight with the Mountain Men is over.
Clarke wakes up with a throbbing headache and a gaping pit in her stomach. Stumbling outside her tent, she searches the grounds for either her mom or Octavia when her foot catches on something hard and she falls face first on the ground. Her hands shoot out to cushion her fall but it still hurts and for a moment, her entire body is aching with pain, especially since she spent the majority of yesterday fighting with an army.
(It’s not like she’s a commander who’s spent most of her life training to be a leader or a soldier who’s been taught to play with knives)
She picks herself up from the floor, grateful that nobody saw the fall. After brushing off the dust from her jeans, she looks at the object at the foot of her tent opening and bites down the bile rising in her throat.
It’s a dead mountain lion, its throat ripped off. The blood has been thoroughly cleaned but Clarke can see the open tendons and the veins spilling out. The smell is nauseating and she thinks that she should be used to it by now but she’s not. She tries not to think about the last time she got her hands bloody (don’t think about him, don’t think about him) and kneels in front of the animal, pushing down her personal feelings and trying to look at this as a scientific assessment.
What the hell is a dead mountain lion doing at her doorstep?
Lincoln finds her in the same position ten minutes later. She’s just opening the lion’s eyes when he approaches quietly, his shadow falling over her. She hears a snort come from him and Clarke looks up.
“Are you okay there, Clarke?” he asks politely.
“Yeah,” Clarke mumbles in response, tearing her gaze back to the animal. She taps her chin, trying not to breathe in the smell. “I’m just trying to figure out what this means. The Mountain Men are gone but I can’t help but feel—”
This time, Lincoln laughs, which is uncommon so Clarke swivels around to gape at him. He towers over her, with his arms crossed while wearing the Ark jacket and he’s actually laughing, teeth gleaming in the sunlight.
“What?” she asks.
“I’m sorry,” Lincoln says, his face hardening. There’s still a hint of a smile though. “Commander Lexa sent this lion. As a message. I hope you understand.”
Clarke frowns, glancing back at the lion. “A message? What is it about? Are there more enemies around our territory? Why can’t she just call me? She knows that I’ll be there in a flash, right?”
Lincoln looks away, still grinning. “I don’t understand your words, Clarke of the Sky People but Commander Lexa is sending you a message. You just have to decipher it.”
Clarke stands and rubs her hands together, looking over the top of the tents and into the Grounder camp. She imagines Lexa sitting in her throne of deer antlers and talking about war strategies with that stoic look on her face. She can’t possibly guess why she’d be sending a dead mountain lion as a message.
She opens her mouth to ask Lincoln more when the man reaches forward and grips her wrist lightly.
“If I were you,” he says, his voice low, “I wouldn’t ask her unless I’ve figured it out. I’m sure, as Commander Lexa is lenient, that she’ll be sending more…hints. Good luck.”
He looks as if he’s struggling not to laugh, which is confusing Clarke. What does all of this mean? What is Clarke supposed to figure out? What is Lexa trying to tell her?
“But,” she’s about to say when Lincoln shakes his head and steps back. He crouches down and pokes the animal with a curious look on his face.
“You might want to start figuring this out, Clarke,” he mutters before he stands up and walks off, nodding at her before he disappears around the corner.
She looks down at the mountain lion and then back at the Grounder Camp. She knows that Lexa doesn’t smile much but if she had seen Clarke looking so helpless, the Commander might actually learn how to laugh.
.
She asks Octavia what the message could be but the younger girl acts the same way Lincoln did. She tells Clarke that it’s serious and she needs to understand what it means and yet, she’s grinning so much that she stumbles over her words. And Clarke is left feeling more confused than enlightened.
Octavia stops laughing. “Okay,” she says. They’re sitting in the dining pavilion and Octavia taps her finger against the wooden table, giving Clarke and earnest look. “Lincoln told me what this is all about and Goddamnit, Clarke. I just can’t tell you right now. Or tomorrow. Or later. Cause you need to use that big head of yours and figure it out.”
Clarke chews on her lower lip. “But what if it’s a call to arms? What if it’s a distress call? What if she’s challenging me—”
She’s interrupted when Octavia laughs. Like really laughs, almost to the point that the other girl is gasping for air a few minutes later. Clarke is getting pissed—she just wants to know if Lexa needs her or something and here she is, being laughed at by Indra’s second in command. Which is ironic, considering that they should’ve at least gotten past this point already.
Octavia quiets down half a minute later but she erupts in giggles every now and then.
“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Octavia tries to say, “But yeah, Lexa’s definitely challenging you.”
“For what?” Clarke demands, planting her palms against the table and leaning forward.
The other girl shrugs. “Figure it out.” Then she peels herself from the bench and hurries off, leaving Clarke hanging and glaring at the wooden surface of the table.
.
She’s about to go ask Bellamy (who’s been spending most of his time in the armory) when she hears a shout coming from the gates. Everybody turns around, freezing in place. Clarke reads their expressions and she knows that they fear an attack or at least a betrayal from the Grounders. She fears that too but she hopes that Lexa isn’t merciless when it comes to the lives of a few survivors.
Lexa, she thinks and a bitter taste forms in her mouth. She still needs to figure out what the message means.
She can hear Kane asking for an explanation when she hurries to the gates, the sunlight blinding her vision. It takes her a moment to adjust and when that happens, she sees that there are only a few Grounders inside their territory (Kane has asked for them to share the land but Grounders are viciously territorial) and that one of them is holding something hidden in a long piece of cloth.
From the corner of her eye, she sees Lincoln leaning forward to talk to Octavia and Octavia laughing as she hears it.
(She really needs to figure this whole thing out)
Kane says, “Welcome” in Trigedasleng and the Grounder at front responds in English,
“We are looking for Clarke of the Sky People.”
Everybody’s eyes go straight towards her and Clarke tries not to let her uneasiness show. She steps next to Kane, who gives her a nod. The Grounder who spoke sidesteps and lets the one holding the long object take a step forward.
Clarke’s heart is beating rapidly in her chest. God, what is this now?
“Commander Lexa sends a message,” the Grounder says roughly. He doesn’t seem too happy about being a messenger. He grips the cloth and pulls it off, revealing what looks to be a sword.
Clarke’s breath catches in her throat. It’s beautiful. From what she’s read about Grounder weapons, this looks to be a longsword and the material seems to have been carved from the same material Clarke has seen in Lexa’s favorite sword. The blade dances in the sunlight and the handle has a gem embedded in the middle. It is startlingly beautiful and Clarke can’t help but be reminded of the glare in Lexa’s eyes whenever they talk to each other.
The same glare the sword is giving out.
The Grounder steps forward and then kneels, presenting the sword towards Clarke.
“The Commander would be pleased to know you accept,” he says gruffly.
Everybody in Camp Jaha is watching her and Clarke tries not to let her frustration show when she realizes that this is one of the hints Lincoln is talking about. She reaches forward and grabs the hilt of the sword. She puts all of her strength in lifting it (because let’s admit, Clarke Griffin’s not that equipped with a sword) and stares in wonder when she finds out that it’s not as heavy as it looks.
“This is the Commander’s first sword, the one she trained with. She wishes for you to be trained in the same manner as well. And that you might understand the message that she has sent for you.”
Clarke nods, not trusting herself to speak. She wonders if it’s written all over her face that she doesn’t know what the message is. She can feel Kane looking at her curiously. Okay, maybe not just Kane. Maybe the whole entire camp. She lets the sword fall against her side and nods for the Grounder to stand.
He does and he gives her a look of barely contained disdain. The whole Grounder Camp must know what the message is and it’s seriously starting to make Clarke doubt her deduction skills if she still hasn’t figured it out.
Maybe Lexa wants to train with her. The mountain lion. The sword. Lexa probably wants her co-leader to be strong so, maybe she’s inviting her to train together. Maybe it’s just that. But Clarke can’t understand why she has to do so slyly, telling her that it’s an important message and etc.
No, it’s definitely not training. Lexa is straightforward. She doesn’t tiptoe around things. Either this isn’t her or she’s following some kind of rule or something. A tradition.
Clarke can’t think too much right now. She just watches as the Grounder crew head back to their camp, where their commander is waiting for the next update.
Clarke wishes that she can see the look on Lexa’s face. Maybe then, she’ll finally get what the message is about.
.
When she asks Bellamy what the message could be about, he gets that look on his face. The playful grin that he only reserves for Octavia (and sometimes for her), the mischievous glint in his eyes that reminds Clarke that he too, is still more or less a teenager.
“Trouble in paradise, Princess?” he asks, wiping the sweat of his brow.
Clarke rolls her eyes. “Shut up,” she mutters. She’s quiet for a few seconds before she reaches for her side and pulls out the sword Lexa sent for her.
Bellamy looks up, his eyes latching on the weapon. “Whoa,” he mutters. “That’s what she gave you, right? In front of the whole camp?”
Clarke studies him carefully. She’s spent the last two hours studying the sword so she knows all about the visible nooks and weary edges. She knows that it’s a sword that hasn’t been used for a while and has recently been shined. She knows that Lexa used it and that Bellamy is currently itching to use it as well.
She sees the truth in Bellamy’s eyes when he looks back at her. “Holy crap, you know, don’t you?” she asks.
Bellamy’s lips twitch. “Know what?” he asks.
“Don’t be stupid,” she growls, “You know what message she’s sending, right?”
Bellamy leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. “Octavia might’ve mentioned it.”
“God, you are such an ass.” She looks back down at the sword. “You probably shouldn’t get me angry, especially when I’m holding a weapon in my hand.”
“We both know that I could beat you. Two minutes tops.”
“Two minutes?” She frowns, glaring at him.
He grins again. “I would’ve said a minute but you’re a fighter. You might last sixty more seconds.”
“Asshole,” she mutters under her breath. Then she gets up and stabs the ground with the sword, trying to puncture a hole but failing. “I just don’t get it. First, she sends a mountain lion with the throat ripped off then she sends the first sword she used? If she isn’t so heartless, I’d say that she might actually be sending me gifts instead of a message.”
Bellamy laughs suddenly but doesn’t explain why. Clarke knows that she’s not going to get much from him so she kicks at the ground furiously.
“Let me give you a hint, Clarke,” he says, stepping forward and pointing at her sword. “You might want to stop thinking of this as politics or as war strategy. That part’s over, remember?”
Clarke frowns. “Then what am I supposed to be thinking about?” she asks.
Bellamy shrugs but he gives her one of his genuine smiles. “Something new,” he answers. “Something possible. Something more.”
Clarke wonders when the hell he got so philosophical but she doesn’t question it. Instead, she drags the sword behind her as she leaves the armory, still thinking about the mystery that is Commander Lexa.
.
She’s been kicking herself for being so stupid for most of the day. Spending at least ten hours inside her room with nothing but Lexa’s sword for company, she thinks that she should’ve at least understood it by now, or gotten some sort of insight. But she’s dead empty. There’s nothing in her head except for pointless theories. She knows that she should just ask Lexa but Lincoln’s warning keeps coming back, like a pesky fly that just won’t go away.
The Camp is starting to fall asleep so Clarke reaches into her chest to prepare a lantern when she hears a rustling behind her. Swiftly grabbing her gun from the floor, she points it to the shadow across the tent and waits, her entire body locking in place.
Then she hears Lexa’s voice and she relaxes. Sort of.
“You’re not standing properly, Clarke,” the Commander says, brushing the flap of the tent open. Most of her armor is gone and her face is devoid of her make-up. Her thick hair is still braided and she’s still standing like a leader. But at least, for the most part, she looks like a regular teenager girl. “Your shoulders are slouching, your elbows are too locked in place, and you’re going to get yourself killed in combat.”
Clarke drops her gun and leans back, watching warily as the Grounder enters the tent with barely a greeting. Lexa’s dark eyes swerve around the compartment and Clarke can’t help but feel as if she’s being assessed carefully. Some part of her wishes that she can read what the other girl is thinking about but she knows that she can't. She's pretty good at reading people; she's read Bellamy, Murphy and Raven in the past but Lexa is different. Lexa is unreadable, unknowable, as distant and secretive as a black hole in space.
Clarke kind of admires that.
"Are you alone?" the Commander questions, tilting her head to the side.
Clarke nods, trying hard not to stare. Lexa is beautiful, exotic even. She is both foreign and familiar at the same time. There are often times Clarke has to mentally scold herself for thinking of Lexa in a way that goes beyond comrades. The war brought them together and some part of her has to wonder if the peace will force them apart.
Apparently, that's not the case because Lexa is here and she's looking at Clarke with that look in her face. (The look that Clarke only gets to see when they're alone, the look that can only be shared when they're not in the war room or out in the field trying to survive, the look that Clarke secretly likes because it's the look that Lexa only gives to her.)
(The look that makes Clarke's heart pound)
"What do you want?" Clarke asks gently as she stands her ground.
Lexa purses her lips and glances around again. She seems strangely tense, tenser than usual and Clarke is about to reach out and touch her shoulder when Lexa turns to her again, the fire in her eyes surprising the blonde. There is a hushed silence and for a moment, they stand there staring at each other. Until finally, Lexa sighs and fishes something out of her clothing.
Clarke bites her lip when she sees the object dangling from the commander's fingers.
"I wish to present you a gift," Lexa says. She steps forward, grabs a hold of Clarke's hand and gently places the necklace against her palm. When Lexa pulls away, Clarke feels the imprint of her fingers against her skin. Like a searing warmth that doesn't easily go away. She feels the same warmth in her cheeks when she realizes that Lexa is still standing too close. The other girl inhales sharply before continuing, "It came from the commander before me. It is said to hold good omen and even greater battle spirit. I hope you make use of it, Clarke of the Sky People."
The pendant is beautiful, especially under the glare of the fading sunlight. It is the color of blood, a stone that strongly reminds Clarke of a beautiful intricate rose. It is bound by a special clay that she wishes she has, because it's texture is soft, unlike most material the Grounders often use. She runs her fingers against the pendant and pulls away when she feels a sudden sting against her thumb. Not only is it beautiful but it's sharp as well. A trap hidden under deceit and beauty.
Sort of like Lexa.
"Why give this to me?" Clarke asks, looking up and locking eyes with her co-leader.
Lexa is not the type of person to look away but she does. It's unlike her.
"I had hoped by now that you've figured out the message," Lexa says, her voice quiet, "but it seems that I am mistaken. I shall return again tomorrow, at the same time, and I want to hear your answer before I leave."
Clarke is about to say What does your message say when Lexa roughly turns around and disappears through the flap of the tent. She hears the scuffle of footsteps, a rousing of a bird from its sleep and then...silence. Nothing is left behind except for her scent, which Clarke clings onto. When her mind has stopped spinning, she lies back down against her bed and tries not to think about the forest and the metallic smell of swords.
(Because that's exactly what Lexa smells like.)
.
She spent the majority of last night tossing and turning, Lexa's pendant leaving a searing hole against her palm, where she's been clutching it for almost eight hours. She can't just stop thinking about the other girl and what all those messages meant. She thinks back to the mountain lion, the sword and now the necklace. She tries to piece together what she knows about her co-leader and what the gifts symbolize but she comes up blank. She knows that Lexa is an insanely good hunter (and an awesome knife thrower), she knows that Lexa has a great deal of skill with her sword and she knows that Lexa takes her position as leader seriously. But what does all of those facts have to do with her?
What message is the Commander trying to convey?
She wakes up in a sour mood and it darkens most of her morning and the rest of her afternoon. She eats alone, works alone and thinks alone. She knows that talking to the others would distract her from her thoughts but the others don't think so. Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, her mom and hell even Kane are trying to talk to her about the recent events but she pushes them away. They expect her to know everything but right now, she just knows shit.
Lexa told her that she had hoped that Clarke would've figured it out but Clarke hadn't and now Clarke is on a roll. The stupid, arrogant side of her rises like a tidal wave and is willing to do anything to prove to Lexa that she was wrong about her being wrong. Because Clarke will figure it out. Because Clarke is Clarke. And Clarke Griffin doesn't easily give up, especially when she knows that the answer is just staring at her in the face.
Lexa will get her answer and Clarke knows that it will be the right one.
She's pacing around in her tent before sundown when Lincoln sneaks inside. His eyes fall on the pendant she has around her neck and he tries to hide a smile, but fails.
"Have you figured it out?" he asks, crossing his arms.
Clarke tilts her head at him. "What will you do when you'll realize that I haven't yet?"
His lips twitch. There's a side to Lincoln that he lets out every now and then, a side that is playful and mischievous. A side that often gets overshadowed due to him being a Reaper. Clarke wonders if it's that the side Octavia chooses to see, the good side that downright pushes out the bad.
"I give you a hint," he answers, uncrossing his arms and pointing at the sword in Clarke's possession.
"Go on," Clarke mutters.
"Ah, so you haven't figured it out."
"I think that's obvious."
He shakes his head and lets out a short laugh, one that dies too quickly. Then he continues, "The sword Lexa gave you is the same sword she used to kill that mountain lion. And the necklace that you're wearing right now is the same one she's been wearing for years. She's not only giving you messages, Clarke, but she's giving you gifts and presents. Now, I know you're smart and I know that you've figured most of that out but have you heard of the--" He says something in Trigedasleng.
"No, I haven't," Clarke says.
"It's an animal, related to the mountain lion. In some ways."
"We didn't have much animals in the Ark. And the animals we met here were too unfriendly." She winces when she thinks back to her first encounter of a living animal in this world, the deer with the two heads. "Anyway, what does have to do with Lexa?"
Lincoln taps his chin. "In English, the--" he repeats that foreign word again "--is called the cat. I'm sure you've heard of it, in your books or scrolls but I'm just repeating the facts here. It's a smaller version than the mountain lion and a lot friendlier. Most of my people have made the tradition of adopting one and raising them to be bodyguards or messengers. Now, the point is, the cat has a peculiar sense of warming up to their owners. They kill birds and present them as peaceful actions of affection. Love. Mutual understanding. They leave the dead carcasses on the doorstep of the owners and wait for the approval. Either acceptance or rejection. The owner decides."
He stops talking then, giving her a harsh but curious look. Clarke's head is swimming with the newfound information. She tries to piece together what Lincoln has given her but the picture she's starting to see is completely absurd. Not to mention completely unlike Lexa. She's about to ask more when Lincoln shakes his head and says,
"I have to go now. I hope you'll still figure it out. If not, well, Lexa doesn't take rejection too kindly."
He disappears and Clarke's words die in her throat. Now that she's alone again, the silence gives her more opportunities to understand the block of words Lincoln said. She drops down on her bed and runs her fingers through her hair, thinking about cats and pendants and swords and the forest and the glare in Lexa's eyes whenever she looks at her.
(It's getting harder to concentrate when it comes to the other girl)
She doesn't reach a conclusion. She has nothing in her stupid head. For once, she doesn't have a clue what she's going to say. She's always known which exact words to form when she's trying to convince or bullshit someone or when she's trying to make a war strategy.
But that's the problem. Because Lexa is not a strategy; she's a leader and she knows way more than Clarke does.
(What is the message?)
She's so busy trying to come up of ways to bullshit her way out of this situation when she hears footsteps against the ground and the hush whisper of a commander in the dead of night. She doesn't even need to look up to know that Lexa has arrived, precisely in the same time as yesterday.
(The forest smell and the metallic taste of swords speak well enough for her)
"Clarke," Lexa says, her voice soft but harsh at the same time.
Clarke looks up. The Grounder Commander stands in front of her, thick dark hair braided at the back. There is no war paint on her face and the only armor she's wearing right now is against her chest area. A small knife is hidden underneath the layer of rags she's wearing; Clarke knows because Lexa never leaves her camp without a weapon.
"Have you decided yet?" Lexa questions and Clarke must be imagining the visible tension in her eyes.
Clarke stands up and steps closer, so they're face to face. She stares at the shade of Lexa's hair and the shape of her lips and the curve of her nose.
(And she's staring again; she really needs to stop that habit)
"Give me a minute," she says, her voice hushed and Lexa nods slightly.
Okay. Sixty seconds left. She thinks about Lincoln's story, about the three gifts Lexa sent her and there is a pattern. There has always been a pattern in the beginning; maybe Clarke ignored it because it couldn't be possible. But now she has to face that theory, she has to face what she has overlooked. She has to see the picture she thought was absurd. It is, after all, her only option left.
Lexa is the cat. Clarke is the owner. Lexa is trying to--
It's definitely absurd.
"Wait." Clarke holds up a hand, tilting her head to the side.
Lexa watches her, dark eyes unfathomable and serious, mouth set in a straight line. The more Clarke thinks about it, the more absurd it gets. Because there's no way Lexa thinks of her that way--Lexa's probably the only person who doesn't think about people that way. And yet Clarke thinks back to the mountain lion, the sword Lexa first used, the game that is probably a century year old and suddenly, it's not as absurd as she first thinks it to be.
(Yeah. She figured out the message.)
"Time's up," Lexa says, adjusting her posture.
Clarke drops her hand, a smile forming at the corners of her lips. It's no wonder Lincoln laughed when he first saw the mountain lions. It's no wonder Bellamy and Octavia were acting like a bunch of giggling teenagers. They all knew what the message was but they didn't say anything about it.
Maybe it's because they knew she'd figure it out.
"Were you--" A laugh escapes past her lips and she struggles to tone down her grin. "Were you trying to ask me out on a date?"
When Lexa frowns, Clarke thinks that she's guessed wrong (and her heart drops down to her toes) but then Lexa says, "I know what date today is. It is the ninth of--"
Clarke interrupts by laughing again. Out loud. She blindly reaches forward and grabs at Lexa's hand. The other girl starts but doesn't object and Clarke takes that as a good sign. Lexa's face morphs into curiosity and Clarke thinks it's the most adorable thing in the world.
"You don't get it," Clarke says, still smiling. "When the Sky People say 'date' they don't mean the date of today. In our custom, 'date' refers to a time or an occasion where two people spend time in order to get to know each other."
Lexa frowns. "Our people call it courtship."
Clarke laughs again. And it's not too comfortable.
"Courtship," she says slowly. Lexa's grip tightens on their clasped hands, "is too formal, even for the Sky People. And it's also very permanent."
Lexa's gaze is unflinching. "Is that not what you desire?"
Clarke clears her throat. "Yes, that's what I desire but there's a reason why people date first before they decide to marry, or court. The Sky People often make mistakes. They choose someone who is not their equal or they court someone who is not meant for them."
It feels strange, talking about dating with someone like Lexa, who surely frowns on such petty affections of the heart. But the Clarke thinks back to their time together and how Lexa had always protected her from the start, assured her about Bellamy and about the way, give her people a chance based on a whim about the Reapers.
It's no longer absurd that in some ways, Lexa wants her. The signs have always been there. Maybe Clarke has been too blindsided by the war to truly reflect upon it.
Lexa looks as if she's thinking. A moment passes and she sighs.
"Clarke," she says, her voice firm, "I look at you as my equal and if you wish to 'date' as what your people say, then we may do so."
Clarke coughs lightly, grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt. "Really, now?"
Lexa nods. There's a hint of a smile against her lips. "Yes, and how do your people accept this types of offers?"
Clarke thinks for a while, her heart pounding loudly inside her chest. Finally, she just shrugs and says, "By doing this." Then she grabs the front of Lexa's clothes and leans forward, pressing their mouths in a searing kiss. It gives Clarke the impression that she, too, looks at Lexa as her equal and that she is too smart to make mistakes.
When they pull away, Lexa's eyes are closed. She inhales sharply before opening her eyes and saying, "I like your people's customs better than mine."
Clarke thinks back to the mountain lion, the sword and then the pendant. She smiles, muttering, "Me too" before pressing another soft chaste kiss against the other girl's lips.