would you go with me to the capital? the proposal slides forward, almost slipping between lexa’s lips, as she watches clarke.
no, it’s still doesn’t sound as it should. too trite and desperate. lexa wants to say exactly the right thing when she lets clarke know she wants to show her polis. show her the marketplace that teems with life, the throne room where she’s spent so much of her time as a young adult, the magnificence of the stars from the highest levels of the tower. clarke should know the beauty of these things – lexa has a feeling she’s one of the only people who would appreciate them as much as her.
you should come with me to the capital.
that’s better. it lacks the open-ended nature and ambiguity of a question, but is still not a demand. it’s a simple statement of feeling that leaves clarke the freedom to choose.
yet lexa still doesn’t allow the words to tumble from her mouth, remembering the kiss they shared and the way clarke had pulled away. needing time…what if she needed space, as well?
she almost laughs at herself as she imagines telling her generals that, though she barely bats an eye at the prospect of war, the great heda is rendered faint-feeling and dry-throated at the prospect of asking a cute woman to travel with her.
they wouldn’t understand that bearing her heart to clarke griffin is the scariest challenge she will ever face.