heda | clexa

eight

just a reminder that this story deals with sexual harrassment, the threat thereof, the mention thereof, etc. throughout the whole book, but please read this chapter particularly with care <3

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Clarke curses herself as soon as Lexa has gone back to bed.

Flower crowns and garlic bread? Really?

Why the fuck did she say that? Just because Lexa's stupid eyes had Clarke bewitched once more?

Lexa is the enemy, and she will never be anything else, despite pretty eyes. What kind of stupid reason is that, anyway? 'Pretty eyes'? Really? Every other person Clarke meets has pretty eyes, for fuck's sake.

She casts a look at Lexa, curled up on her side, facing the wall, breathing deeply and quietly, and then shakes her head, slipping on her boots and silently making her way downstairs.

She needs to clear her head.

The door of the cabin has just fallen into the lock behind and she's on the way into town when a group of guards is already crowding in on her.

Shit.

Clarke forgot about her bedtime. It gets darker sooner here, and she left for Raven's earlier, she forgot that she couldn't just go out any time- fuck, she should've thought her actions through, she always does, why not tonight?

This could risk her whole crew, shit.

Habitually, her hand finds her hip, where normally, an array of weapons rests.

For the first time in a very long time, an earthquake of panic compresses her chest.

Her weapons were taken from her.

Her weapons are gone.

Her weapons are gone, fuck, she has no weapons.

"Well, hello, pretty. Bit late, isn't it?" one of them says, but Clarke refuses to die tonight. She's not going to put up a fight for once.

"Sorry, forgot that I'm a toddler again, bedtime and stuff, right?" she grins with raised hands, already backing up, but the guards don't seem amused.

"They should've never let the blaken bitch take care of anyone. It's gonna kill everyone," one of them mutters, a tall and lanky guy that Clarke would never be intimidated by.

He has pale red hair and a fat pimple on his nose, he's unshaven, his eyes are a watery blue, big and round- Gods, he's young and looks the most unthreatening a person could.

There's nothing scary about him, there's nothing scary about him, there's nothing scary about him- he steps forward, sword raised, and Clarke cowers.

There's nothing scary about him, she shouts at herself.

"That don' matter anymore now," another guy says and crowds in on Clarke further too, this one much older, beefy and tall, and Clarke feels around herself for anything she might use as a weapon. All she feels is the wooden wall behind her.

Fuck. They backed her up.

"Right, we'll teach her a proper lesson," the third snickers. A foul scent takes up the air when he speaks, coming from his black and yellow teeth, and disgust swells up in Clarke.

It finally breaks the paralysis that has taken a hold of her, and she punches the first one right into his already crooked nose, taking his sword in the same move, but before she can kill any of them, something pricks her neck and she sways. Her muscles feel odd, sleepy, not entirely in her control, within just seconds after that sting.