Chapter Text
Clarke woke slowly, feeling the hard ground beneath her as she pulled herself out of darkness. She realized her hands were bound before her eyes had a chance to open and shot upright whirling around in search of the mountain men hunting them. Her heart calmed and her eyes narrowed when all she found was Anya sitting a few feet away from her witling a large stick to a point with the edge of a rock. The woman’s arm was now bandaged from when Clarke had been working on it earlier and Anya had used the opportunity to slam something into the back of Clarke’s head and knock her out. Clarke felt anger bubbling in her gut as she became aware of the pounding in her skull and tenderness behind her ear.
Anya looked up from her witling and smirked, “Finally. I was starting to think you were going to sleep all day and night. “
Clarke was so angry it took her a moment to find words, Anya’s smirk growing bigger as she clearly fumed. “Sleep! What is wrong with you? You knocked me out!” Clarke made to get to her feet as if to charge the warrior, who sat unconcerned, before the trees spun around her and she fell back down hard on her butt.
Anya’s smirk fell from her face as she got up and walked to the girl, placing her hand on Clarkes shoulder as she checked the wound behind her ear. “It’s not even bleeding,” she said frowning, coming back around to Clarkes front, “you sky girls are so delicate, it was barely a tap.” Clarke glared at her but her head pounded too much for her to indulge her annoyance and she found herself leaning into Anya’s grip on her shoulder. Her eyes focused again on the woman’s face and she swore her expression was something close to worry. “You need to rest,” Anya said, “ we need to find a cave, there’s one not two miles from here. We’ll head to Ton DC tomorrow.”
She gripped Clarke’s upper arms as if to pull her up before thinking again and asking, “ can you walk?”
Clarke wasn’t sure herself if she really could walk in this condition, but she was sure not going to let Anya carry her and they couldn’t stay out in the woods all night, the sun was already sinking in the sky. “Yeah, I think, but not that far. There’s a bunker, it’s less than a mile from here, let’s go there for the night. It’s safe.”
Anya slowly pulled Clarke to her feet, giving the girl a skeptical look. “I do not like the bunkers,” she said simply, still holding on to Clarke to make sure she was steady.
“Well maybe you should have thought about that before you knocked me out in the middle of the woods.” Clarke quipped, earning a sigh from Anya who released her arms and turned away, heading for her now pointed large stick. Clarke swayed on her feet, her hands tied in front of her doing nothing to help her balance. She felt light headed and weak, but she could stand and she presumed she could walk.
Anya circled back towards her, stick held like a staff beside her. “Fine. Lead to your bunker sky girl.” She fell in place very close beside Clarke, as if prepared to catch her should she stumble upon moving. She glanced over at the blonde with an unreadable expression, “If you try anything though, I will knock you out with this stick and this time I will leave you there.”
Clarke caught a smile creeping over her face at the woman’s harsh words, knowing she would not have brought her this far just to leave her in the woods. Clarke started to walk towards where she knew the bunker was located, very slowly walk, but the moving seemed to help her headach. It was a very still evening, and the only sound around them was Anya’s occasional grumblings about their slow pace until Clarke decided to break the silence. “You don’t have to call me sky girl. My name is Clarke,” she said simply. Anya looked over at her for a minute in silence before answering, “I know your name, Clarke.”
Clarke smiled slightly at this, thinking it a small victory to get the warrior to use her name at all. “Okay now is the part where you say, and you can call me Anya,” she for some reason enjoyed teasing the warrior, and found no reason she shouldn’t indulge in this one simple joy.
Anya glared from where she was walking next to her before sighing, “My name is Anya, but you can call me general,” her glare turned into a smirk as Clarke became the one to narrow her eyes.
“I am not calling you general.” She said decisively, and Anya’s smirk widened, only dropping and glancing over in slight confusion when Clarke suddenly stopped walking,
“This is it,” Clarke said, kicking at the loose dirt in front of them to uncover a handle. “We put dirt over it so no one would find it and know where we hid from the acid fog,” she explained. Anya only grunted and reached down to yank up the door, sending the dirt sliding off around it. She peered down into the darkness before looking back to Clarke and gesturing her to go first. Clarke sighed but obeyed, adjusting herself so she could climb down the ladder with her hands bound as they were. “Wait until I find some candles to come down,” she called up, “ I need the sunlight from the open hatch.” She searched around in the near darkness for where she knew the candles and matches should be. They always left them in the same place having dealt with the darkness before.
“You better not be searching for a gun,” she heard from above her as she lit the first candle and turned to light the rest.
“There’s no guns down here Anya. And you can come down now.” The warrior slammed into the room with a thud, earning an annoyed glare from Clarke. “There is a ladder you know.” Anya was looking around as if an enemy would jump out at any second, wielding her stick ready for attack. “Would you relax,” Clarke said, “there’s nothing down here but us.” Anya’s eyes darted to Clarkes, and then away again as she started to inspect everything in the room closely. She began moving around and poking certain items with her stick; the bed, a children’s toy, a cup. At least she didn’t look on the verge of a fight, Clarke thought, and went to open a drawer at the back of the bunker where she knew there would be some dried food. It didn’t taste good, but it would do as neither of them had eaten in a long while. Anya ceased her poking and came over to see what Clarke was doing, eyes going slightly wide at the food she was pulling out and putting on the table. Anya probably hadn’t eaten since the drop ship, Clarke thought, and quickly handed her a piece of the dried meat. Clarke left some food in the cabinet for another time, closing it and turning to sit at the table. Anya hadn’t bothered to sit and was already on her next piece of meat. Clarke watched her as she started to gnaw on the food herself, feeling a small smile pull at her lips at the sight of the woman, who looked slightly rabid tearing apart the meat between her teeth.
Two more pieces later Anya finally registered Clarke’s eyes watching her. “What?” she spit out with her mouth still full, continuing to devour the strips of food.
Clarke giggled still looking up at her, “You’re so charming Anya,” she joked. Anya only grunted and dropped herself down in the chair across from Clarkes, not speaking again until they had finished all the food Clarke set out for them. Seeming to come back to herself she looked around for her stick, gripping it close to her again when she spotted it discarded on the floor. Her attention turned to Clarke, and down to her tied hands.
She seemed to consider before saying “I’ll have to untie you to sleep, but one of them is getting tied to the bedpost so you cannot just get up and leave, as I know you would.” She seemed to be pleased with her solution and got up to move towards the bed. Clarke sighed and got up to follow, thinking if she argued Anya would leave her bound as she was and she didn’t think she could sleep like that. She walked over to Anya and held her hands out. Anya quickly untied them and stepped away a bit, watching her closely.
Clarke looked at her questioningly, “Are you gonna tie me to the post?” She didn’t particularly want her to, but her head was still throbbing and she wanted to get to bed.
“Are you going to sleep in those?” Anya was looking pointedly at her clothes, “they’re covered in dirt,” she seemed to be repulsed by the idea.
“Well I’m not going to strip in front of you!” Clarke said incredulously. She was startled by the warrior’s suggestion, though her clothes were absolutely filthy. She looked back to Anya who’s eyes had gone slightly wide, clearly surprised by the girls reaction.
“Right,” she said somewhat shortly, “Well give me your hand then,” And quickly Clarke’s left hand was bound to the inner bed post. Anya had left her enough slack to move freely and Clarke was grateful for that as she sat on the bed, eyeing Anya who had taken a few steps in the opposite direction. Clarkes eyes went wide as the warrior gripped the bottom of her shirt and in one quick motion tossed it over her head. The lean muscles on her well toned back rippled as she brought her arms back down, throwing her shirt on the chair and working on the laced ties to her pants. Clarke’s eyes scanned over the tattoos across her shoulders and down her spine, all dancing with every slight move of Anya’s arms. She wore a binding wrapped around her breasts that blocked a wide section of her back and Clarke found herself annoyed at it, wanting to see the flow of tattoos and muscles unmarred. Her eyes slowly traced raised white scars that interrupted the smooth tan skin in more than one place, and wondered where each came from.
It wasn’t until Anya turned around, at first jumping slightly at Clarke’s eyes on her and then fixing her with a smirk, that Clarke realized she was staring, ogling more accurately, with her mouth hung slightly ajar and her heart rate a bit too elevated. Anya’s smirk turned into a grin as Clarke quickly looked away, a stuttered “Sorry,” falling from her lips.
“You can look,” Anya said, clearly pleased with herself, and took a few steps towards Clarke.
Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as she turned back, taking in Anya’s perfectly sculpted abs just a foot in front of her. “What are you doing,” she had meant the words to sound surprised but they came out a little less forcefully than she would have liked. She shook her head, trying to calm herself down, trying to remind herself she was this woman’s prisoner and she was acting ridiculously.
Anya actually laughed, something Clarke hadn’t seen before. “Did you think I was going to sit up all night and stare at you? Move over,” the grounder demanded. Clarke did as she was told and slid over on the bed so she was against the wall, trying to school her breathing as Anya climbed in next to her. Anya lay down, putting her stick on the ground next to the bed, and threw one arm over her eyes as if to block out light. Clarke just looked down at the woman, practically half naked lying next to her. Her pants were still on, but the ties were undone and they hung loose enough that Clarke could see the bottom of her hip bone, and found her eyes tracing it up to Anya’s stomach, a masterpiece in itself with rippled muscles and the tattoo from her back reaching around her ribs to sprawl up her left side. Clarke found herself wanting to reach out and trace it, run her fingers over the taunt skin and down to where Anya’s hipbone jutted out, maybe further.
“Go to sleep Clarke,” Anya jolted Clarke out of her thoughts, “we’re leaving at dawn and staring all night will do nothing for your head.”
Clarke felt her cheeks flush and huffed as she slipped down next to Anya. The bed was small and she could feel the skin of Anya’s side hot against her arm. She sighed, thinking she wouldn’t get much sleep that night, thinking maybe she should have taken her clothes off, thinking how ridiculous it was to fantasize about your captor, even if she had saved your life. Then sleep found her.