fragile | clexa

chapter thirty

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Lexa's hands felt more sweaty than they had any of those days. Her breathing was too quick and her eyes darted around in the room with panic.

According to those motherfucker stupid guards that had let Clarke leave, the girl had left the tent hours ago. Lexa had yelled all her hoarse voice out at them that that was the entire point of them guarding the tent, that Lexa had paid special attention not to let Clarke leave on her own yet or be in touch with anything dangerous and yet they had royally fucked it all up.

What had they been thinking letting her out into that, for an underfed and injured girl like Clarke, murderous storm? What if Clarke didn't intend on coming back? What if she had gone to, whatever, jump off some tree or let herself be killed by the cold, the rain? Lexa was absolutely freaking out, sat on the edge of her bed yet incredibly restless.

She wanted nothing more than to put on boots and a coat, but those, again, motherfucking guards didn't let her out.

Due to the fact that she might not be in the right mind or some shit. Clarke was gone. Of course Lexa was in the right mind.

No one told Heda what to do. No one gave her orders or restrictions, and Lexa would've told those guards her opinion with all power if there had been any power. She was exhausted simply by the walk around the tent and her yelling at the guards. If she'd go out into TonDC now without any protection, or let the guards search Clarke leaving Lexa in the tent without protection, that wouldn't really prove that she was in the right mind.

Heda needed to stay alive for her people, and a major point to accomplish that was to be alert, attentive and with the ability to defend oneself. Lexa, at her current state didn't fulfill any of that, and with the lack of guards that was there already, the possibility for assassins to strike was too great as it was.

But she needed to find Clarke.

Thoughts created an absolute mess in Lexa's already squashy mind for the thousandths time, what if it was too late? what if Clarke was hiding? what if Clarke had run off? and she had to close her eyes for a moment to keep from collapsing.

When she opened them again, she first heard a bit of rustling then saw the tent flap open, and oh holy fucking shit.

Clarke.

She limped into the tent with a little bit of damp hair and muddy shoes, supported on her cane with two bags hanging from her arms, and when she saw Lexa she offered a small, little complicated in her position, wave.

The bags dropped and Lexa saw a look of absolute exhaustion cross Clarke's face before the blonde neatly put her boots at the edge of the tent and her cane next to them. Just to later clean it.

"How are you feeling Lexa--ahmpf," Clarke was cut off into a surprised muffled something when two arms wrapped around her and her feet lost contact with the ground.

Warmth. Hair. Waterlilies.

Yeah, Clarke figured it that moment that it must've been waterlilies and not roses in Lexa's soap.

"Clarke," Lexa breathed, not letting Clarke go for the better part of the next half minute. When she put Clarke down and pulled away, Clarke was even more puzzled by everything finding a lost tear running down Lexa's cheek.

"Lex-"

"Where were you? God Clarke I thought you were dead. Now you happily turn up here as if you hadn't simply been gone for a few hours? I was so worried Clarke. Where were you?"

Clarke opened her mouth, closed it again.

Was that one of Lexa's sickness things?

The green in Lexa's eyes was completely sober. Sincere, almost anxious concern mirrored inside of it, her pupils an absolutely normal size, and Clarke thought Lexa must've confused her to be someone else when she felt overly hot fingertips trace along her sharp cheekbones.