The ground was…not what Octavia and Raven had expected it to be. Which they’d already known, and probably should have gone without saying, but it was still an entirely accurate statement. At the same time, though, it was remarkable just how similar everything was. The technology was a bit different, the means a bit more…well, primitive.
But an infirmary was an infirmary, a doctor was a doctor. And the doctor’s of the infirmary had kept a firm hand on Octavia and Raven since they’d arrived, and been complimentary of Octavia’s first aid efforts while they were at it. While permanent damage wouldn’t have been likely, even as rough as their descent was, it wouldn’t have been impossible either, and without the make-shift brace the younger of the pair had made…well, the doctor’s hadn’t said one way or the other, but that was worrying enough as it was.
The culture was different too, of course, in most ways. Some of those differences were obvious, glaring even, in the way that the people here carried themselves and spoke and dressed. Others were subtle, the sort of thing you didn’t notice until you’d been paying attention for a while, and then suddenly couldn’t stop noticing once you had. The casual nudity -near or outright- that could and would crop up, for one, or the casual intimacy that seemed to permeate everything. The healers had bathed them, tended their wounds, and dressed them in soft, loose garments without so much as a hint of self-consciousness, and while that could be explained away as doctors being doctors, there were the conversations that they’d overheard. Conversations that hadn’t been meant for their ears, and stopped when they’d been spotted, about lovers and sex and activities that were intoxicating in a number of ways. Conversations that would have probably sent a good portion of the Ark into conniptions, at the very least, but seemed to be unabashed and uninhibited here.
It was all so very overwhelming for the both of them, Octavia in particular. Even being free of her under-the-floor hideaway as she had been these last few years, she’d still grown up in a world even more different from this one than the Ark as a whole was, and found herself caught between brash fascination and timid, prickling discomfort. Raven, likewise, had found herself a bit withdrawn, vulnerable, in spite of her previously scrappy, sarcastic upbringing.
And then, of course, there was Clarke.
That had been the single most shocking thing of all, hadn’t it? Because Octavia had insisted, fierce and certain, that Clarke was alive. Had practically bitten the head off that poor woman from the Mountain who’d tried to gently break the news that the first person down was almost certainly dead!
But she’d been right the whole time.
Of course she’d been right! But being right and actually seeing it were two very different things, and seeing Clarke -seeing Clarke, of all people- come riding up on a massive black horse like something out of one of a book or a movie, two wolves the size of normal horses flanking her, dressed like a barbarian warrior-queen and barking orders that hardened warriors obeyed without hesitation no matter how much they disliked them?
That had broken something in both of their brains, just a little bit, and they didn’t think it was unreasonable to have that happen either.
The Clarke they’d known had been brilliant, yes. Fierce in her own way, certainly. The kind of girl who’d throw herself between you and danger without a second thought, who’d argue with a Council member twice her age and somehow come out ahead. But she’d also been theirs, in a way. Their friend, their leader, the unofficial queen of the Skybox who’d kept a hundred terrified kids from tearing each other apart. A girl. Human, fallible, familiar.
This new Clarke, though?
This Clarke was something else entirely, something more. Something that moved through the world like she owned it, like she’d been born to it, with a confidence and a presence that hadn’t been there before. Oh, the bones, the core, of her hadn’t really changed -the same blue eyes, the same stubborn set to her jaw, the same way of tilting her head when she was thinking, the same love for her people and the same fierce intelligence- but everything around those bones had been...elevated. Sharpened. Made grander somehow, in a way that defied easy description. She had been compelling, before, anyone who had known her and been honest would say as much as that, but she was…well, the ‘Cult of Clarke’ thing might be less of a joke, going forward.
So when Clarke herself swept into the infirmary one evening and firmly declared that the two of them were going to join her and her Companions -and why had she said the word like that, almost stressing Companion, giving it a strange sort of weight?- in the palace baths, they had leapt at the chance.
Partly because, well, it was Clarke, and even if she’d grown into something that made the hair on the back of their necks stand up a little, she was still Clarke. Still the young woman that had protected them, looked after them, taught them, loved them. And, to be quite frankly, partly because they were stick to death of being in the infirmary, no matter how kind the healers had been and the chance to be somewhere else was too damn appealing to pass up.
In hindsight, Octavia would later reflect, that eagerness might have been just a touch premature. Or, at the very least, in dire need of more information before being acted upon.
Because the baths, as it turned out, were not the sort of communal washing facilities that the Ark possessed. They weren’t even the sort of thing she’d half-imagined from the histories, all marble and steam and Romanesque luxury, though they came considerably closer to that than anything she’d grown up with. No, the baths were something else entirely, something that managed to be both grander and more intimate than she’d been prepared for, and the first thing that struck her -quite literally- was the wall of warmth that was the perfect temperature.
The second was that they definitely were baths, rather that a bath. All connected, and one could probably argue that their interconnectedness made them one pool, but to her mind they were definitely seperated, even terraced somewhat. And while they varied in size, none of them were small -though some were shallow- and the largest was…sizeable, to say the least.
The third thing she noticed was that Clarke’s grounder friends, and a dozen or so young women -servants, she was pretty sure- were all waiting for them wearing rather loose clothing.
Loose clothing that, Octavia couldn’t help but notice, seemed designed less to conceal and more to suggest, hanging from shoulders and draping across hips in ways that left a great deal to the imagination while simultaneously ensuring that the imagination didn’t have to work terribly hard. Thin fabrics, almost translucent in places where the steam had dampened them, clinging to the curves -the very impressive- curves of the women who wore them.
She swallowed, hard, and felt her face go hot in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the warmth of the room and everything to do with the fact that her freshly non-virginal brain was struggling to maintain functionality in the face of the incredible sight before her.
Beside her, Raven made a small, strangled sound that suggested she was experiencing something very similar. Under other circumstances, Octavia would plan to tease her over it, if not start teasing her outright, but she was hardly in any kind of shape for that.
“Octavia, Raven. It’s good to see that you’re finally out of the infirmary. I’d apologize for keeping you there so long, but you needed the time to heal and grow used to being here on the ground in a more…contained space.” Lexa was the one to greet all of them, her smile small but genuine, friendly in spite of its reserved appearance. Her eyes slid to Clarke, brightening slightly as her mouth tweaked in the direction of a smirk. “Besides, Clarke was so very insistent that you stay safely tucked away. She was so very worried for you.”
“Lexa…” the blonde in questions started to sigh, only for laughter to fall from the throats of the other young women present.
“Ironic, really, given that she so fiercely protested being in the infirmary herself. Often, stridently, and occasionally at both length and volume.” the redhead, Costia, observed idly to no one in particular. It would have sounded, or looked, innocent, if it wasn’t for the sheer blandness of her words. But as much as that was true, her tone was warm and fond, marking it as the sort of teasing that only came from genuine and deep affection.
Octavia couldn’t help the startled snort of laughter that escaped her at that, despite herself, despite the overwhelming nature of everything around her. Because that? That was Clarke. That was the Clarke she knew, the one who’d argue with a doctor about whether she really needed to rest, who’d insist she was fine even while bleeding, who’d been the worst patient imaginable every single time she’d ended up under the Ark’s medical care…and would simultaneously fuss over others until they were ready to strangle her.
“Oh, she was the absolute worst about it, wasn’t she?” Octavia found herself saying before she could think better of it, the words tumbling out on a wave of nervous relief. “She probably complained about being bored, about needing to move and get things done, didn’t she?”
“Frequently, yes.” Ontari confirmed as she and the others, as if called by some unspoken signal, started towards the water. Raven and Octavia found themselves getting nudged forward by Clarke, her hands reassuring, and the attendants started to move.
Specifically, they moved to start disrobing the other women, and the two newest inhabitants of the palace gaped as Clarke held her arms out -palms upraised, looking every inch a queen, if casually so- as Niylah stepped up and started to work at the fastenings on her own clothes.
“Whoa, whoa, hey—” Raven started, jerking back a half-step at the approach of two attendants, before a flash of pain crossed her features and she caught herself, one hand flying to her still-tender leg. The pair of young women steadied her immediately, faster than even Octavia could reach her, before looking to Clarke for instructions. Clarke, who was now naked and had turned to face them, her hip cocked out to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her sex and the trimmed blonde curls above it, a reassuring smile on her face.
“It’s fine, girls. You’re my guests, my friends. Let them help you get ready and get you into the water. This is how things work down here.”
Raven hesitated, her dark eyes flicking from Clarke to the attendants and back again, then to Octavia, who looked equally caught between mortification and a kind of helpless fascination. There was a moment where it seemed she might balk regardless, might dig in her heels with every inch of the stubborn pride that had been so very absent when they’d made love, but then her shoulders slumped slightly and she let out a gusty breath.
“Right. Sure. This is how things work down here. Totally normal. Completely fine.” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, as she held her arms out in a timid mimicry of Clarke’s own pose, getting a pleased look from the young woman in question as the attendants started to work on stripping her as well.
Octavia, for her part, promptly decided that if Raven was going to be brave about it, then she damn well wasn’t going to be lagging behind. So when the attendants turned to her, soft hands moving to the simple shift she’d been dressed in by the healers, she gritted her teeth, lifted her chin, and let them.
It was strange, being undressed by someone else. Strange, and intimate, and not entirely unpleasant once she stopped fighting the instinct to flinch away. The attendants were gentle, practiced, their fingers brushing against her skin with a casual sort of reverence that made her flush even hotter than she already was. It was…it made the same part of her that had been so pleased, so aroused, by Raven’s submission hum in satisfaction.
Then the shift slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving Octavia just as naked as everyone else in the room.
She fought the urge to cover herself, the instinct so deeply ingrained that her arms twitched with the need to obey it. But no one else was covering themselves, no one else seemed remotely bothered or discomfited by the casual display of bare skin, and so she forced her hands to remain at her sides, her chin held high even as her cheeks burned.
Clarke watched her do it, or perhaps it was better to say that she watched her not do it, and the look of warm pride on her face made something in Octavia’s chest go tight and warm. The spark of arousal that she could see in her friend and idol’s eyes created warmth of an entirely different type.
“There you go.” Clarke said softly, approval clear in her voice, before she stepped forward and took one of Octavia’s hands in her own, her touch warm and steadying. “I know it’s strange. I felt exactly the same way the first time, believe me. I think I nearly bolted out of here when Niylah started getting me undressed.”
“You? Bolted?” Raven managed to tease, her voice slightly higher than usual as one of the attendants guided her toward the steps leading down into the largest of the pools. “Now that I’d have paid to see.”
“Oh, she most certainly considered it.” Niylah confirmed cheerfully, sliding into the water beside Clarke with an easy, fond smile, the water lapping at the swell of her breasts. “She looked like a deer caught in torch-light, and couldn’t seem to decide where her eyes ought to be.”
“Niylah!” Clarke protested, though there was no real heat to it, only the same fond exasperation she’d shown Lexa earlier. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am always on your side, domina. After all, my purpose in life is to make it both easier and more comfortable.” Niylah replied serenely, reaching up to tug Clarke down into the water beside her. “Which is precisely why I’m sharing the truth with your friends. They should know that you were once exactly as uncertain as they are now.”
Clarke huffed, casually -offhandedly, really- swatting at one of her submissive’s breasts, but she didn’t argue further as she settled into the warm water beside the girl, the surface lapping gently at her waist as she lowered herself onto one of the submerged stone benches. It was…something see, the way Niylah gasped and damn near purred at the blow, wiggling slightly in her own seat, and Octavia swallowed as heat pooled further between her legs at the natural display of dominance.
She hadn’t even thought about it, she’d just…done it. And that was one of the hottest things that Octavia had ever seen. From the look on Raven’s face, the mechanically-inclined girl felt the same way, and Octavia found herself suddenly struck by the mental image of she and Clarke dominating her together.
She shook the thought away —or tried to, anyway, because it lingered with a stubbornness that did absolutely nothing to cool the flush still burning along her cheekbones— and let the attendants guide her down the steps and into the water. The warmth of it closed around her legs, her hips, her waist, and she couldn’t quite suppress the sigh that escaped her at the sensation. It was heavenly, frankly, after an entire life of rationed, recycled, lukewarm water on the Ark and the cramped, utilitarian washing facilities that came with it.
“See? It’s not so bad.” Clarke said, watching her with that same warm, knowing look she’d been wearing damn near every time she was in the same room as the two newest grounded Arkers.
“No,” Octavia admitted, sinking a little deeper into the water until it lapped at the underside of her breasts. “It’s definitely not. It’s actually kind of incredible. It almost hurts, it’s so warm, but at the same time it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
“Just wait,” Clarke said, and there was something almost wicked in the curve of her smile now, something that made Octavia’s stomach swoop in a way she couldn’t quite name. “It gets better. Much better.”
As if on cue, the attendants swung into s. One of them produced a small bowl of something that smelled amazing and handing it to Niylah, while another gathered Clarke’s golden hair in both hands, tilting her head back gently so that the strands trailed in the water behind her. Niylah dipped her fingers into the bowl and began to work the fragrant oil into Clarke’s scalp, kneading with practiced fingers, and Clarke let out a low, contented sound that was almost embarrassingly intimate as her eyes slid half-closed.
Octavia watched, transfixed, as the attendants moved with the same easy grace to tend to the others. Costia, rather than being tended to herself, slipped behind Lexa, working at the tension in her shoulders with strong, sure strokes that drew a soft hum of satisfaction from the intimidating beauty.
Charis, the strangely-behaved and often-quiet member of the grounder’s group, seemed perfectly content to lean back against the edge of the pool with her arms spread along the stone lip, watching the proceedings with a sort of detached interest. Soaking everything in without actively participating or commenting, and soaking in Octavia and Raven in particular, something that made the two of them shift a bit.
Ontari, meanwhile, had positioned herself near the edge of the pool and was being attended to by two of the young women, who were diligently working soap into her dark hair and oil into the lean muscle of her arms with the same reverent care.
It was all, Octavia realized with a fresh wave of heat, a profoundly sensual thing to witness. Not overtly sexual, not exactly, though there was certainly an undercurrent of that too. But intimate in a way that was defined by how easy it was, a casual closeness between people who trusted one another and who took comfort and pleasure in touch without shame or hesitation.
Then the same two girls that had stripped her, approached Octavia herself, one of them now carrying a bowl of the same fragrant oil, and she froze in much the same way Niylah claimed Clarke once had.
“Oh, I—I can wash my own hair, that’s—” she started, only for Clarke to crack one eye open from where she lounged in blissful contentment, locking onto her.
“You could, yeah. But you don’t have to. That’s sort of the whole point.” she said, her voice lazy and warm with the comfort of Niylah’s ministrations. “Let them take care of you, O. You’ve earned it, and they enjoy it. Trust me.”
Octavia hesitated, her teeth worrying at her lower lip, feeling exposed and…well, she couldn’t really put it into words, but she felt strange at the idea of that sort of treatment. Excited, yes, but…for a girl who’d grown up hiding beneath the floor and then treated with mingled zoo-like fascination and disgusted contempt when she was finally revealed, the sort of service that was coming her way was the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.
But this was Clarke telling her it was okay. This was Clarke, who had never once led her astray, who had protected her and taught her and looked at her just now with that warm pride that made her want to be brave. And so, with a slow exhale that did very little to steady the rapid thrum of her heart, Octavia tilted her head back and let them do as they pleased.
The first touch of those soft hands against her scalp very nearly broke her compsure. She bit back the sound that wanted to escape her, swallowing it down even as her eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. The girls’ fingers were gentle but firm, working the oil through her hair and into her skin with a thoroughness that was nothing short of decadent, and the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying began to bleed out of her muscles firm pass of those hands at a time.
“Oh.” The word slipped out before she could stop it, soft and helpless and just a little bit awed. “Oh, that’s...”
“Good?” Clarke supplied, that wicked little smile still playing about her lips.
“Don’t,” Octavia managed, though there wasn’t any real protest in it. “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Liar.”
A ripple of laughter went around the pool at that, light and easy, and Octavia found that some of the tension still coiled in her chest unwound just a little bit more at the sound of it. Because that was a normal thing, wasn’t it? Friends laughing, teasing, the easy back-and-forth of people who cared about one another. Strip away the nudity and the steam and the alarmingly attractive servants, and it was almost familiar.
Almost.
Beside her, Raven seemed to be experiencing a similar journey from rigid discomfort to reluctant, melting surrender, her own attendants having gathered her hair and started to work on her, and there was a soft rustle before the woman Clarke called Kassandra, the Sentinels called Mentor, and Lexa’s people had called Wanderer slipped her scarred, powerful body into the pool as well.
“There you are. I seem to recall telling you that you were supposed to join us. Where did you disappear to, hmm?” Clarke asked, not sounding quite so aggrieved as her words might have otherwise implied, and Kassandra huffed softly.
“I checked in with ALIE about the ORACLE system, made sure everyone was going as it should back in the Tomb, and got what I needed together in order to…make sure that you are further enlightened in regards to your legacy.” she responded, not sounding chastised or apologetic in the least, though at least she didn’t sound argumentative either. Then her eyes turned to Raven and Octavia, both of whom immediately swallowed, shying away slightly at…something that they couldn’t quite define. The moment lingered, heavy and charged, before she spoke again. “So, you two are Clarke’s favorite girls from back home, is that right? Her most loyal.”
“We—I mean, I wouldn’t say favorite, exactly…” Octavia started, then faltered as Kassandra’s dark eyes seemed to peel back layers she hadn’t known she possessed. “There were a lot of us, in the Skybox and out of it, and Clarke looked out for all of us equally.”
“She might have looked after you all equally, but not all of you were equally close with her, isn’t that right?” Lexa asked, seemingly innocently, though the look in her eyes made it clear it was anything but. “I said, in the moment I introduced myself to you, that I’d expected it to be the two of you, or perhaps Harper and Zoe. And I expected that for good reason. Harper and Zoe might have been the two people most prominently hers in this ‘Skybox’ of yours, but who was it that she trusted to speak for her to your people as a whole?”
“…us.” Raven admitted, after a moment of silence, her voice quieter than usual and lacking its customary snark. One of the attendants tilted her head back to rinse the oil from her hair, and she let them, her dark eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance as she spoke. “Octavia and me. When Clarke needed something done, when she needed to get a message to the rest of the Ark without it getting twisted around, she came to us. Sent us. We were the ones she trusted to get it right.”
“She trusted us to handle the stuff that mattered.” Octavia agreed softly, the warmth of that fundamental truth blooming in her chest even now, after everything. After the descent and the Mountain Men and the discovery that the girl she idolized had become something out of legend. “She trusted us to make sure things got done. And we did. Every time.”
“Of course you did.” Clarke’s voice was soft, fond, and when Octavia opened her eyes to look at her she found the blonde watching the two of them with an expression that made her throat go tight. “You always came through for me. Both of you. There were times when I’m not sure I would have held everything together without the two of you backing me up outside the ‘Box.”
Kassandra hummed, a low, thoughtful sound that sounded just as pleased as it did contemplative, and she settled languidly deeper into the water with the air of a woman who had all the time in the world. Which, Octavia supposed with a faint, dizzying lurch of comprehension, she very nearly did, if even half of what they’d been told about her or overheard was true.
“Loyalty like that is rare, priceless.” the older woman mused softly, before looking at Clarke. "Don’t let them go, Clarke. Loyal friends and lovers are the most valuable thing this world has to offer. Just don’t make them wait too long before you take them to bed. It would be a cruel thing to do after they came so far to find you.”
The words landed…spectacularly, of course. In fact, it wouldn’t be unfair to compare the result to tossing a stone thrown into an otherwise tranquil pond, and the results were just as obvious as the geyser and ripples that would be the result of such an action. In this case, the room was filled with titters, laughter, and smiles -all restrained or very much otherwise-, while Raven made a strangled sound halfway between a cough and a squeak and Octavia felt her face turn to fire as her mind jumped headfirst into lechery.
“Kassandra!” Clarke’s voice cracked with the same exasperation she’d shown all evening, though there was something else underneath it now. Something flustered and almost shy that Octavia had never associated with the unflappable princess of the Ark. “We just talked about this! About letting them adjust before—”
“Clarke, if anyone left your love life up to you, you wouldn’t have one. You don’t need to drag them off to bed by their hair, even if they’d probably be nothing short of thrilled by you doing exactly that.” Kassandra retorted, sounding entirely unbothered by the glare that was being aimed in her direction. Octavia wished she could disagree with the claim, but her fantasy promptly incorporated ‘Barbarian Queen Clarke’ taking what she wanted from Octavia, before making her watch as she did the same to Raven. “Besides, its better to give them all relevant information and let them start getting used to it now. Dragging it out won’t do anyone any good.”
“…yeah, I guess you’re right.” Clarke sighed after a long moment, sounding very much like the words were being dragged out of her. Shaking her head, she met Raven and Octavia’s eyes. “Okay, girls. It’s like this…”
###################################################################
Hours after the bath, hours in which Clarke had explained as much as she could -and was willing to do under the current circumstances and with the attendants present- before sending the exhausted and overwhelmed Raven and Octavia back to their rooms, Niylah and Clarke were curled up in their bed in the latter’s suite. Naked as the day they were born, of course, cuddling affectionately and exchanging soft kisses every so often.
It was Clarke who broke the comfortable silence first, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the curve of Niylah’s spine, her voice quiet and contemplative in the dim, candlelit warmth of the room.
“Can I ask you something, Sunshine? Something I need you to be honest about?”
“You may ask me anything, domina, and I’ll answer honestly. You know that.” Niylah murmured against her collarbone, pressing a soft kiss there before tilting her head back to meet Clarke’s eyes. There was no hesitation in her, no guile, only that steady, patient warmth that had become as familiar to Clarke as her own heartbeat.
Clarke was quiet for a long moment, her gaze drifting up toward the carved ceiling overhead as she gathered her thoughts, her fingers never quite stilling against Niylah’s skin. Niylah let her thinking, knowing that interrupting her now would only make things more difficult, and would likely result in her domina dropping the matter entirely. Not exactly a result that she was interested in.
“When you look at me,” she began slowly, the words careful and deliberate, almost hesitant. “what do you see? And don’t—” she gave a small, rueful huff. “—don’t give me the answer you think I want, or the one you think is proper. I need the real one, sweetheart.”
Niylah propped herself up on one elbow, studying Clarke’s face with the quiet, devoted sort of focus that had always made the more dominant half of the pair feel as though she were the only person in the world worth looking at, before smiling gently and giving her a kiss far deeper and more intimate than the relatively chaste pecks they’d shared so far this evening.
“I see the woman I love. I see my domina. The woman who helped save me, who has done nothing but support me and protect me and care for me since the moment I met her. That is who, and what, I see.” she responded steadily, placing a finger on her lover’s lips when Clarke made to speak. “I know what you’re really asking, domina. I know that you’re asking if I love Clarke, or if I love the Sky Princess. I love you, Clarke. I had no idea who, and what, you were when I offered myself to you. I found out who you were only when Heda and her Chosen -your Chosen- summoned me to ride after you, when you left to retrieve Octavia and Raven. My heart was yours, long before I found out where you were from or just who you are a descendant of. My heart is still yours, and always will be.”
Clarke felt something tight and aching in her chest loosen at those words, at the unwavering certainty of them, and she let out a slow breath that she hadn’t quite realized she’d been holding. She brought her hand up to cup Niylah’s cheek, her thumb stroking gently across the soft skin there, and the smile that crept across her face was small and a little fragile.
“You really mean that.” It wasn’t quite a question. It was more a marveling, a slow understanding settling into place, of Niylah’s truth. “Even now. Even knowing everything. Knowing what I am, what I’m supposed to be, what they all expect me to do and become.”
“Of course I do. Clarke is Clarke, my domina. What does it really change, if I’m kneeling at the feet of the woman I love, whether she’s sitting in a regular chair or a throne?” Niylah pointed out, voice so exquisitely calm that she was obviously chastising Clarke for her doubts without saying anything of the sort. “The only real question is, will you continue to love me and cherish me and let me serve you when your harem grows? I believe the answer is yes, even if only because you’ve always told me that you didn’t need anyone else at your feet besides me, but I would love to hear you say it…”
The trailing words hung in the air, and Niylah let them, watching her domina with those steady, patient eyes that held nothing but love and the quiet certainty of someone who had long ago made peace with her place in the world…and was not only content, but happy.
Clarke laughed, soft and a little watery, and pulled Niylah closer until their foreheads pressed together. A gesture just as intimate as any kiss or sensual act.
“Yes.” she said, the word fierce and warm and absolutely certain. “Yes, Sunshine. No matter how big this gets, no matter how many wives or thrallinas or whatever else I end up with, you’ll always have your place. Right here, with me. I promise you that.”
“And I will be with you, until the day that I die. Whenever, however, wherever, whyever you want me. I’m yours, in every way and meaning.” Niylah promised just as fiercly, just as certain, kissing her mistress once again, before rolling onto her back and helping Clarke settle between her thighs. “Now, make love to me, domina. Make love to your devoted slave, let your Sunshine bring a little warmth to your bed, hmm?”
Clarke didn’t need any further encouragement than that, her lips descending to capture Niylah’s in a kiss that was slow and deep and unhurried, even as her hands began to roam across the familiar landscape of her lover’s body. And as she felt those clever, well-trained fingers begin their sensual work across her skin, as she arched up into the warmth of Clarke’s touch with a soft, breathless sigh, Niylah made a quiet vow to herself.
She would be different. Not Heda, who saw in Clarke an equal and a partner, a fellow ruler to stand beside her at the head of a united people. Not Kostia, who saw her as a future domina and the wife of her dearest friend. Not Ontari and Caris, who saw her as the goal they had worked so hard for their entire lives, the queen they had trained night and day to marry.
Not even Octavia and Raven, who had followed Clarke down from the stars and would no doubt come to offer themselves to her just as eagerly as anyone else, who saw in her the leader of the Skybox and the friend who had protected and cherished them for so many years.
No. Niylah would be something else entirely, something that none of the others could quite be, no matter how much they loved her. She would be the one who saw past all of it. Past the prophecy and the bloodline, past the legacy of the Ark’s founder and the reincarnation of an ancient god, past the crown and the title and the weight of a world’s salvation resting on those strong, capable shoulders.
She would be the person who saw Clarke. Just Clarke. Not the symbol, not the savior, not the inheritor of impossible destinies that had been laid out for her before long she’d ever drawn breath. She would be the one who looked at the woman moving above her, the woman whose blue eyes were soft and dark with affection and desire, and saw nothing more or less than a person deserving of love.
A woman who, beneath all the grandeur and the destiny, simply wanted to be cherished for who she was.
It was, Niylah thought as Clarke’s lips traced a slow, worshipful path down the column of her throat, the greatest gift she could possibly offer the woman who owned her heart. A gift that she had given so many months ago, and a gift she would spend the rest of her life continuing to give.
She couldn’t imagine anything more fulfilling than that.