so many parallels. bell and clarke marrying because it’s expected of them; because it “makes sense” for king to marry a princess. they don’t have to like each other; it’s not about love, it’s about people’s expectations and traditions that neither particularly care about, but can’t go against.
clarke not wanting bell and making excuses to escape consummating their marriage. clarke leaving her bedchambers at night to take walks to clear her head, getting lost and running into lexa. getting escorted back to the castle by her and not being able to stop thinking about her face and lips and arms. seeking lexa constantly and not understanding why she’s craving her so. exploring herself at night to the thought of lexa’s serious gaze and the bob of her throat when she swallows at the attention her queen is giving her.
lexa is not stupid. she notices clarke’s constant presence. she sees the way her queen looks at her, peering at her from under those lashes, eyes alight with curious hunger. lexa is no stranger to a love like this. but this is madness. her, with the queen - it’s impossible. the king will have her head.
the king, busy with royal affairs, actually asks lexa to accompany the queen wherever and whenever she wishes to, noticing clarke’s affinity for lexa, but attributing it to her longing for a platonic companion. never has king bellamy been more wrong.
first time it happens, neither of them are prepared. clarke is tending to lexa’s wound after a tournament; the kiss catches them both by surprise. the queen can’t believe she leaned in and captured those full lips with her own, but then the commander lets out a deep, shuddering breath, and the wound is the furthest thing on their minds. first time it happens, they are impatient and rough and frustrated, and it ends far too quickly than any of them imagined. clarke leaves lexa with her taste on her lips and an unspoken promise of coming back.
it keeps happening and lexa can’t do anything but let it happen.
at first, it’s purely physical. it’s always been physical right from the start, because clarke wasn’t thinking of lexa’s favorite flowers when she let her hand end up in the most private of places at night, and lexa didn’t care for clarke’s political views as she kept bedding blondes with blue eyes over and over. it was always physical, until it wasn’t; until clarke began showing up to king’s meetings with lexa and opposed bellamy’s views, unknowingly supporting the commander’s; until lexa stood up with her chin jutted high and spoke quietly that she will do as the queen wishes; until they exchanged laughter under the stairs and kisses that made their lungs burn and their lips swell.
clarke creeps into lexa’s room at night and curls around her and their clothes stay on. they dream of each other and when they wake up, they know they are done for. they fell and because of that, they will fall.
romaincrisis
jbbartram-illu
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
