Commander's Redemption | Clexa

Epilogue

It has been about seven months since Clarke's second return from the oilrig and life in Polis was calm as ever. Almost boring. But Clarke had seen enough action to last her the rest of her life, so she was content with it. After all, she would choose a day of sitting on a chair and staring at a wall over a day of war and killing any day.

Throughout those seven months, Clarke and Lexa had spent nearly every evening and night in the other's room. Occasionally, they would take baths together or participate in what could be described as intensive nightly exercises, but usually they would read together, finish paperwork, or Clarke would draw.

Clarke and Monty were sharing the duties of being the Skaikru's Ambassador so that both still had enough time for other endeavors. It took a bit of puzzling and they had to meet up daily to inform the other of current states of business, but they made it work.

Monty spent part of his time as a mechanic, and part of his time trying to create a farm that would grow more crops so that famine would never be an issue if the harvest was as bad as it had been several years before.

And Clarke spent part of her free time where she wasn't serving as an Ambassador continuing her training with her mother to become a doctor. This had improved their broken relationship tremendously. The rest of her working time was spent teaching art classes to anyone in Polis who was interested in joining. There was a waitlist to her classes since she could only teach so many people at the same time and sometimes people from other cities and villages would even travel to Polis to be taught by the blonde.

Being on the oilrig again had made Clarke remember how much she enjoyed teaching others, and especially how much she enjoyed teaching art. And she also realized many people attending her classes would otherwise never have gotten the chance to explore their artistic side.

Now, it had been weeks of trying to convince Lexa to join one of her classes. But Lexa would firmly respond with, "Ai laik Heda, I don't do art," to which Clarke had promptly replied, "Don't you think I am art? You do me, so I beg to differ," suggestively the first few times. And when that had gotten old, she had moved to trying to convince the brunette with big, pleading eyes and a pouting lip or by begging. Later, she had switched to offering "owing Lexa" and thus suggesting Lexa could cash in her debt in any way she wished sand at any time. To that last one, Lexa had dryly responded, "Really, Clarke? You are offering me sex to attend a class? Not nearly as effective when you let me do that anyway though," which had shut Clarke up pretty quickly.

And finally, Clarke had worn Lexa down enough to convince her with a compromise.

Lexa would only join a private class in Clarke's chambers, but Clarke was never allowed to speak of it again or mention it to anyone. And the proof would be destroyed.

So now, after dinner, both women are standing side by side with a canvas on an easel in front of them and different colors of paint laid out to share between them.

Clarke had taken off her shirt and was wearing only her bra and shorts. She had suggested Lexa do the same to protect her clothes from paint that would inevitably get spilled, and she had even managed to keep any sort of suggestive looks or tone out of her eyes and voice, but Lexa had declined. The brunette was convinced she had plenty of control over her limbs and she was also convinced she had enough dexterity to not spill anything.

She was wrong.

Less than ten minutes into their painting, Lexa's pants had several streaks of red, blue, and orange on them. And exasperatedly Lexa says, "If Titus could see me now..."

Yet, the brunette was getting completely into the zone. It seemed like her mind was getting into a similar state of trance that was usually reserved for meditation and connecting with the former Commanders.