Author's Note: Okay, so it's short - but better than nothing, right? If you're still reading, I'm sorry, guys. I swear that when I told you updates would be slow for a month, I didn't actually think they would be nonexistent for a month. I'm excited about where this is headed, though, so just be patient with me while I knock out a few transition chapters, and then we'll get to the good stuff.

Clarke attempts to rise with the dawning sun, but Lexa does not allow it.

The Commander understands the Skai Prisa's eagerness to reach her people, but they have slept so very little, still, and Lexa knows that decent sleep will escape them for the duration of their travels. Clarke requires rest, and Lexa, too, may still feel the exhaustion which festers deep within her bones and tickles beneath the lids of her eyes. It has only mildly been sated.

Lexa is insistent, curling her fingers around Clarke's wrist as she shifts to stand, pulling against the Skai Prisa until she has fallen, once more, into the bed at Lexa's side with only a hoarse, sleepy chuckle which plucks chords of familiar want in the depths of Lexa's lower stomach. Amusement lights each of the bright, varying shades of Clarke's eyes, and Lexa may only quirk her lips upward in reply – for she is charmed by Clarke, always, but here, with streaks of sunlight plaguing through the small slats in Clarke's tent, the Skai Prisa is nothing less than flawless, to Lexa's eye.

She tugs again against Clarke's wrist, for now it is not only sleep for which Lexa wishes, but also the tremor of her muscles which follows each brush of Clarke's skin upon the Commander's own flesh. If Lexa is meant to deny herself that luxury, she cares not, in this moment – for, soon, they will depart for Luna's village and will be wrought with more political negotiations, and Lexa is not prepared.

Lexa, instead, is eager only for more of this sleepy morning with Clarke. It is only temporary – Lexa knows this – for even without Luna's unexpected message, the Coalition still, too, must be dealt with, but without the threat of the Mountain Men casting shadows over their recent victory, it is simple, for only this short time, to be grateful for this small peace; it is simple to be grateful for only this little time with Clarke, in the quiet of the Skai Prisa's tent, and Lexa finds that she is unwilling to sacrifice it so swiftly.

Lexa breathes a shaky sigh of relief as Clarke follows Lexa's unspoken instruction, though Lexa believes that it is more for Lexa's own comfort than for any rest Clarke might now achieve. The Skai Prisa furls her arms around Lexa's waist tenderly, cheek nuzzling softly against Lexa's stomach with a soft, weary sigh, and it is all that Lexa may think to do to merely curl her fingers through Clarke's blonde curls.

"She's not cruel," Clarke murmurs after a moment, words seeping warmth into Lexa's hip which makes her tremble, before shifting her chin to rest against it as her eyes search Lexa's out above her. "Luna," Clarke elaborates on a whisper. "She's your friend," she licks her lips thoughtfully, treasured orbs of blue pleading hopefully at Lexa for confirmation. "She's- She'll have treated them well, right? My people?"

Lexa swallows, for she does not know. Clarke's people are frightened, and Lexa has more than once borne witness to the Sky People's capacity for destruction when desperate. They are not from Earth, no, but they are now of Earth, and they have proven to be resourceful; they are capable of being dangerous – Clarke has proven that – but they are not all so kind as Clarke, nor as careful.

Finn, too, had been desperate.

Lexa cannot say what has become of Clarke's people, for she knows not the circumstance surrounding their capture. It is entirely possible that Luna and her people only found them in the wake of their crash from the Sky, but it, too, is possible that Clarke's people had read Luna's people as a threat and sought to eliminate it on first contact.

If the latter is the case, Clarke is fortunate to have received such a message at all; Clarke would be fortunate, in such a scenario, not to have received notice of their execution.

"Luna is reasonable," Lexa offers staidly, for she will not lie, but it is senseless for Clarke to worry herself over this when it may not be changed, regardless.

Clarke sighs gently, but nods, face falling once more into Lexa's stomach, where Lexa may feel the weight of her, solid and steady and so pleasantly warm, through the cloth of her shirt.

Lexa swallows once more, though now it is not wrought with weariness, but with pure affection and intimate awe.

The Skai Prisa worries, and the events of the night before still play rapidly amongst the shadows of both Lexa's mind and Clarke's, but it is further, now, with those few hours of sleep to curb the devastation and pain, if only some. Lexa may breathe easier in the morning, may shove aside the grief which had haunted her so powerfully in the evening before; Lexa may remember better, now, the purpose for their actions, and the necessity of them. She aches – in her heart, and in her spirit – for the lives she has taken and for the sadness of such necessity, but it is easier, now, with the relief of some exhaustion, to cope with such things.

Now, it is only Clarke, and only Lexa, and the emotion traded between them the night before is, too, blended with a warm, sleepy feeling of contentment. For how could Lexa fail to feel content when waking in Clarke's arms? When the Skai Prisa is hugged around her hips and burying her cheek into the flesh of Lexa's abs for reassurance and comfort, in a solitary, quiet moment prior to their journey east?

Still, this moment is – and may only be – short-lived.

For Clarke may find sleep no longer, having sated the most desperate and crippling edges of her own weariness, and the Skai Prisa, now, may focus only on her people, and on how she might next serve them.

This is something that the Commander may easily understand, and so she makes no attempt to delay Clarke a second time when, only a short time later, Clarke shifts upward in effort to move. The Skai Prisa slithers up the length of Lexa's frame, and Lexa's breath may only still abruptly as Clarke's fingers cradle beneath her ear. She sighs softly into the line of Lexa's hair, lips pressing a small, fond kiss across Lexa's temple before stirring from the bed, once more.

"Heda," Malloch bows his head respectfully.

Lexa has fallen against her throne, for she has notified all necessary parties of their coming trek, and now she must only wait until her small band of warriors have prepared for it.

Still, Malloch has found her, and upon spying him, Lexa may understand instantly the anxiety which festers at the wrinkle of his brow.

Lexa has not yet ordered his permanent station at Clarke's side. It is against Trigedakru law to part from Lexa's land without the Heda's command or permission, and so Malloch may not follow Clarke to the shores of Luna's people without first appearing at her behest to ask for it.

In this moment, Malloch is worried for Clarke, and for his ability to keep her safe.

"Speak," Lexa instructs, fingers tapping idly along the arms of her throne.

"I request a favor, Heda," Malloch tells her. "It is not my right," he confesses solemnly, "but it is my wish. I request placement as the Skai Prisa's guard."

Lexa arches her head only minutely, eyeing him carefully. Malloch has performed well as Clarke's guard, despite that it had not been sanctioned; this is not the first occasion during which Lexa has pondered his permanent assignment to Clarke. Still, the Commander is curious – for his guard had only initiated in the aftermath of Mount Weather, and surely Malloch may not still feel so burdened by the delay his injury had caused in bringing Abby to Clarke's terrifyingly injured side.

"If that is your wish," Lexa says thoughtfully, "then I must ask why. The Skai Prisa is not your charge. You owe her nothing."

She must be certain. Malloch is a strong warrior, and he would do well in such a capacity, but his eagerness to remain as her protector is curious – for Clarke has done much for both her people and Lexa's, but it is true that Malloch owes nothing to Clarke, personally. Why, then, must he feel it is his responsibility to keep her safe?

Malloch frowns, dark, heavy eyebrows dipping inward in speculation.

"Heda," he begins slowly, "the Skai Prisa has offered much to our people, and much to her own. She is a leader, and as such has earned protection, has she not?"

"True," Lexa nods. "However, her own people, too, may protect her. Or another of my warriors may be better suited for the task," she raises her brow.

Malloch rustles beneath the insult, and Lexa may only hide her amused smile in answer. She has many warriors capable of protecting Clarke, but few suited better than the one before her; still, if it is truth for which she wishes, Malloch will only grant it in fear that his request will not be granted. Lexa will see to it that truth is all that she finds, here, for she will not endanger Clarke's safety through failure to assess her own people placed to guard her.

"Perhaps," Malloch growls. "But none with the same motivation as I. The Skai Prisa has shown me kindness, Heda. She has made it simpler to understand the ways of her people, and in turn has sought to learn from me the ways of ours. She is a leader to be respected," he gruffs quietly, "but also one to be cared for."

It is through Malloch that Clarke has begun learning the language of her people, Lexa realizes then. It is through Malloch's tutelage that Clarke has so speedily absorbed the knowledge of the Trigedakru in recent weeks.

Abruptly, Lexa is grateful for him; she is grateful for Clarke's awareness and her eagerness to learn, but she, too, is pleased that Malloch has provided her such honest means of doing so. Malloch has proven himself loyal to the Skai Prisa, and whatever his reasons, Lexa may respect that – for Clarke has earned loyalty, and she has earned the right to a guard devoted so earnestly to her protection.

"Very well," Lexa nods her assent. "I will grant your request. But do not mistake this as kindness, gona," she cautions. "The Skai Prisa is important to us all. You are a talented warrior, and one who I will trust with this task, but should any harm befall her, it will be you who will suffer for it."

Malloch nods his solemn understanding, and Lexa may only nod and flick her fingers in dismissal.

"We depart shortly. Be sure that the Skai Prisa and her people are prepared to leave," she tells him on his departure.

"Yes, Heda," Malloch nods once more. He hesitates at the flaps of her tent, but does not face Lexa as he straightens his spine and reluctantly grates out a short, "Thank you," before hastily surging through.

Lexa may not suppress the small chuckle which bubbles from her chest, for her people are not acclimated to words of thanks – only physical kindnesses which may express such gratitude. Lexa has borne witness, unknowingly, to Malloch's influence over Clarke, but these small words from Malloch have, too, proven Clarke's influence over him.

The Commander wonders if, perhaps, she should feel threatened by her people's loyalty to Clarke, and the Skai Prisa's invisible, unintentional rule over them. Lexa is uncertain, but she cannot bring herself to worry for it.

Clarke is a good leader, and fair; she is strong, and as kind as Malloch has claimed her to be. She would not take Lexa's people from the Commander even if she were capable, but even if she so chose – and even if she might succeed – Lexa is confident that Clarke would do well by them. She is devoted to them, as they are to her; her own people must come first, for Lexa does not care for them in the same manner as her own, and no other will protect the rights of Clarke's people if Clarke does not do so herself. Still, Lexa believes that her people are right to have placed their trust in the Skai Prisa, for she will not forsake it.