fragile | clexa

chapter sixty three

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Clarke had definitely changed.

It wasn't hard to notice. She didn't eat at the table, barely spoke and seemed overwhelmed with too much noise or touch at once. Which itself was manageable- Abby brought her daughter the meals into her room or left something for her to eat in the kitchen alone, they communicated well enough with nods and whatever Clarke said when she was comfortable enough and they tried to be careful and gentle with Clarke more than ever. But it wasn't just the discomfort or fear towards certain things, there was a conflict within Clarke too.

She didn't seem comfortable with the whole situation. She was jumpy and frightened and stiff and sometimes when she was too stressed, she fell back into the patterns woven into her old comfort zone. Looking at the floor, craving to do something to serve, leaving all decisions to the ones 'superior'. It was a difficult thing to get used to, a difficult thing to deal with.

But in the following few days, no one would have changed a thing. There were too many good moments. Moments where Abby or Jake or Raven sat by Clarke's bed in silence or told her stories about the years she missed, moments where they hugged and moments where Clarke's parents could finally take care of their daughter again. Everything was essentially good because Clarke was alive and Clarke was there with them and it was worth more than any gold.

In Clarke's bedroom, there were candles now. Like in Lexa's, all over the place, lit especially at night so she wasn't frozen of panic every time she fell asleep. The thing with the nightmares still appeared to be chronic. Raven insisted on staying with Clarke the second night, even after the latter had given slight protest, and she woke up 3 times in one night only because of Clarke's gasps and cries.

Raven wasn't the best in comforting people so every time she sleepily checked up on Clarke, she stayed still for a few seconds until Clarke had often gotten it under control herself. And if she hadn't, then Raven got up from her place on the floor and she tried her best to talk her best friend through it, tried her best to get Clarke to go limp in her arms as quickly as possible.

As Abby was a retired healer, it wasn't hard for her to treat Clarke's external injuries- mainly the struggle with her legs- as best as possible. The internal though? It was a completely different thing.

On the third day, a celebration was announced. A huge one over all of Polis. Fires and drinks and a large, a massive feast would be given, there would be music, games, and then the public execution of 'enemies to the safety and worth of the population' - apparently Lexa was still keeping everything as covered as possible.

The other woman hadn't shown up again after she had more or less said goodbye a few days ago and Clarke was starting to miss her far too much.

On the fourth day though, Abby opened the door to the Heda again. That time she was surprised, but not terrified to see her.

"Heda," Abby said and bowed her head. The weather outside was rainy and Abby quickly took the Heda's damp coat to hang it up. "What do we owe the honor?"

"I wanted to check up on Clarke," the Heda said, thankfully stepping inside the warm, dry house. "If that's possible."

"Of course. She should be in her room, if you would follow me." Abby hurried on through the kitchen and then to Clarke's new room. She knocked softly. "Clarke? The Heda is here."

As soon as Clarke heard that from the inside, something that had been pressing down on her was lifted away. She called her mother in after an exhale of relief.

Lexa looked tired behind Abby, shoulders high and chin tilted upwards, her hands behind her back and her expressions carried professionally, but it didn't deceive Clarke. Her eyes met Lexa's and the green caused something initially tense within her to ease, her body to grow calmer.