[Perhaps the last thing in the world Lexa should do is sit up, it makes dark blood ooze through her stitches and the bandaging, her head spins, but she is no less resolute wounded than she was when she was healthy and whole the first time they met.
So she sits, her back too stiff and straight, her eyes glued to Clarke as she moves to face her. It's only in the stutter of her breath that the pain shows, a flicker of something in her eyes as she convinces herself not to check the wound.]
He does need to be stopped. [She agrees, brushing the back of her hand along Clarke's jaw. It's such a small thing, that touch, the ability to reach for Clarke and know she won't flinch or spit, won't snarl at Lexa's very name yet it means the entire world.
And she almost missed ever knowing it again, just because she was so determined to give Clarke whatever she needed because she was so afraid of losing her even as an ambassador that even the idea of suggesting anything to her seemed impossible.
Luckily for her, the girl who plummeted out of the heavens specialised in impossibilities. So they had had a chance to make love, to lay in the fading sunlight a while, even this, her sitting up, pulling stitches, hurting herself was only possible because of her sky girl. She should be dead.
Yet here she was, casting it all away and telling Clarke to leave her.
Lexa swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden dryness of her mouth.]
Pity I am not just a soldier, we could both go. [Maybe in another life.] I will not force you to go... I do not want you to go, Clarke, I just... we will see this through. Together.
[Her breath catches slightly as she ignores her wound to lean a little closer.] You are not Wanheda to them, you are the girl who saved them from the mountain men. You are the one who kept their children alive against three hundred of my soldiers.
You spare them, again and again, and they are ungrateful but deep down they know. They just need to be reminded. They may not all love you, they don't need too, they just need to see pike for the warmonger he is.
But - if they attack you... they attack me. [she paused, then laughed softly, wincing but laughing.] Literally, it seems.
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So she sits, her back too stiff and straight, her eyes glued to Clarke as she moves to face her. It's only in the stutter of her breath that the pain shows, a flicker of something in her eyes as she convinces herself not to check the wound.]
He does need to be stopped. [She agrees, brushing the back of her hand along Clarke's jaw. It's such a small thing, that touch, the ability to reach for Clarke and know she won't flinch or spit, won't snarl at Lexa's very name yet it means the entire world.
And she almost missed ever knowing it again, just because she was so determined to give Clarke whatever she needed because she was so afraid of losing her even as an ambassador that even the idea of suggesting anything to her seemed impossible.
Luckily for her, the girl who plummeted out of the heavens specialised in impossibilities. So they had had a chance to make love, to lay in the fading sunlight a while, even this, her sitting up, pulling stitches, hurting herself was only possible because of her sky girl. She should be dead.
Yet here she was, casting it all away and telling Clarke to leave her.
Lexa swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden dryness of her mouth.]
Pity I am not just a soldier, we could both go. [Maybe in another life.] I will not force you to go... I do not want you to go, Clarke, I just... we will see this through. Together.
[Her breath catches slightly as she ignores her wound to lean a little closer.] You are not Wanheda to them, you are the girl who saved them from the mountain men. You are the one who kept their children alive against three hundred of my soldiers.
You spare them, again and again, and they are ungrateful but deep down they know. They just need to be reminded. They may not all love you, they don't need too, they just need to see pike for the warmonger he is.
But - if they attack you... they attack me. [she paused, then laughed softly, wincing but laughing.] Literally, it seems.