Clarke stood awkwardly in the doorway of Lexa's room on Durmstrang ship. Even despite Clarke's familiarity with magic and extension spells, the inside of the ship was bigger than she'd imagined it would be. It was like an entire school packed into one level of the ship.
Lexa was moving around her room, pulling off her robes and folding them, setting them down on the foot of the bed.
When Lexa glanced up and noticed Clarke hovering anxiously, Clarke felt her heart jump as their gazes met. Only moments ago Clarke had been swamped in a memory that wasn't her own, staring into the unseeing eyes of a dead girl named Costia who Lexa had clearly once loved and who had been actually murdered. Clarke felt sick to her stomach.
"Sit," ordered Lexa, pointing at the bed.
Despite the nausea in her belly, aching pain in her heart, and anxiety in her chest, Clarke's cheeks warmed at the idea of being on Lexa's bed. Lexa's toned, tattooed arms exposed in her sleeveless top didn't help matters.
"I'd rather stand," she said honestly, shifting her weight on her legs. Lexa stared at her for a beat too long, before shrugging and sinking down onto the bed herself, stretching out and crossing her ankles.
Clarke remained frozen in place, almost shivering, while Lexa leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Silence swelled between them, so long that Clarke began to wonder (had already been wondering really) why Lexa told her to follow her onto the ship.
Finally, just when Clarke was contemplating whether she should tell Lexa she was going or merely slip out, Lexa spoke.
"When do you want to begin lessons?"
"Wh—what?" More Occlumency lessons had been the last thing on Clarke's mind. She didn't think they would ever continue them now, to be perfectly honest.
"Not Occlumency," said Lexa flatly; Clarke would have wondered if she had just used Legilimency on her, if she hadn't been staring at Lexa and knew she hadn't opened her eyes. "It...may be awhile before...if...we continue those again. I meant swimming lessons."
Clarke's eyes went wide, mouth falling open. "Swim lessons?" she spluttered, face immediately going red as an exaggerated image of herself and Lexa in bikinis and a swimming pool popped into her head.
"Yes," said Lexa, opening her eyes and gazing up at the ceiling. "And you may as well stop the complaining before it begins because I'm not taking no for an answer. I refuse to let Cage get second-place during the first task."
"Who said I was complaining?" shot Clarke, before Lexa's second statement sunk in and she raised her brows, incredulous. "Wait—second place?"
"Yes," answered Lexa simply.
Clarke scowled, but decided to move on. "I don't need your pity, Lexa. I can teach myself, or get someone else—"
"Who?" demanded Lexa, suddenly sitting up and turning, swinging her legs over the bed. "Who else is there to teach you, Clarke? I know none of your friends have been speaking to you. You are facing a dangerous, trying tournament, and you are facing it alone. I'm offering what little help I can. You should be grateful and take the offer."
Clarke's stubborn streak reared in full effect—but as she glared right back at Lexa, she realized something. Lexa's eyes were rimmed red; she had been crying. The pride drained away from Clarke so quickly she was almost overcome with sudden exhaustion. Her shoulders sagged as she gave a small nod. "Alright. Thanks."
