Lightning Only Strikes Once - Clexa

Chapter 119: With This Dagger Sheath

"Do we have a second choice?" Clarke wonders. She's in the middle of getting ready for bed, loosening her braided hair. She accidentally creates a knot and lets out a growl of frustration.

Lexa smiles slightly and comes to sit next to her on the bed, reaching out practiced fingers to untangle the knot. Even with her left arm still in a sling and only able to use one hand, she's quicker at it than Clarke would be. "Sha, there are a few Azgeda we could consider, though none I trust as much as Zion. I have spies still in Azgeda, and when – if – Roan appears, he may have a suggestion as well."

"None of the village leaders we met can just take off and move to Polis," Clarke says thoughtfully. "I trusted Orion, but he was born Sankru and I don't think he'd want to be Fleimkepa anyway. Wells trusts a few of the ones in the gonakru, I know that, but even though they came to our side I really don't want to give the position to anyone who actually attacked Trikru territory." She sighs with pleasure at the feeling of Lexa's delicate, deft fingers combing out her braids. "Oh, that's lovely."

"I believe Zion will accept the position," Lexa says, although Clarke can hear a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"He looked pretty thrilled at first," Clarke agrees, leaning back into Lexa. "Maybe he's just freaking out a bit and needs to really think about it. That's understandable."

"Maybe."

Lexa kisses Clarke's neck lightly, and Clarke shivers at the feeling of it. "Mmm... oh, okay, keep doing that."

Lexa kisses her way further up Clarke's neck and then starts her way back down, and Clarke abandons any idea of continuing to discuss important issues. She presses back against Lexa and closes her eyes, savouring the ripples of pleasure that go through her at every light, soft touch, her senses heightening until even Lexa's shallow breathing feels like a caress. She shifts so that she's facing her fiancée and kisses her lightly on the mouth, running a teasing finger down Lexa's exposed collarbone. Lexa sighs with pleasure and deepens the kiss, pulling even closer to Clarke.

It's so wonderful to finally have a room of their own, a real room, with guaranteed privacy. There are no guards standing outside like when they were in the tent together, no uneasy sensation of occupying another person's home like whenever they've stayed in villages. Until they leave for Polis, they have this: when they get to Polis, they have Lexa's room in the tower, their room.

It's just as wonderful to wake up besides Lexa. For the first second she's awake, Clarke nearly jerks up, alert and ready to reach for a weapon, the way she does every morning. Then she forces herself to lay still again, curling back up in Lexa's arms and letting her breathing slow down again.

She can vaguely remember Lexa waking her in the night at one point, poking her and sleepily muttering "nightmare," as an explanation, just like another couple might wake each other because one of them was snoring. Her nightmares don't completely disappear with Lexa there, any more than Lexa's disappear just because she's there. They aren't some kind of magical cure for each other's painful memories. Being beside each other does help, though – Clarke's nightmares are never as vivid or awful with Lexa beside her. She strains to remember and decides last night's nightmare was about her father dying at the ice lake – a new one in the rotation.

Clarke snuggles back against Lexa and yawns.

Lexa opens her eyes and smiles. "Good morning, ai niron," she says sweetly, pressing her face into Clarke's shoulder so that her voice is muffled. She yawns as well.

"Good morning, ai hodnes," Clarke says, putting an arm around Lexa – careful of her wounded shoulder – and closing her eyes. A second later she opens them and makes a protesting noise when Lexa kisses her cheek and starts to disentangle herself from Clarke's arms. "Nooooo. Sleep time," Clarke whines.