#fic: wytyf

[closetcasefabray]

when you traced your fingers, drew my spine [part 3/3]

for @ijustkeepitmovin bc good ppl & clexa. also, YAY I FINISHED IT. totally didn’t edit btw bc i smoked & it wouldn’t really improve it anyway. i’ll end up in a blackhole of weird medieval history if i tried. so forgive me for any weird mistakes.

summary:

You braided her hair, then tied it back with a ribbon your father gave you.

“Green,” you said, “to match your eyes.”

“I cannot—”

“A gift,” you said, resting your hands on her shoulders. “You were by far the best gift, Alexandria. It is only fair, for all your work and your company.” You found your own face warmed at the confession.

She smiled graciously at you in the mirror. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You’re welcome.”

or: one of the many lifetimes where clarke & lexa find each other. medievalish!clexa

rating: M

note: still historically inaccurate. still gay.

part 1 // part 2

When You Traced Your Fingers, Drew My Spine

3.

You’re distracted as you dine with Forwin’s family. Your nights have been spent with Alexandria pressed against you, the cool night air filled with the sound of her breath and your name whispered as something holy. You are sure you’ve never felt more blessed.

“Is Princess Constantine feeling ill?” Forwin’s father asks, nodding at your full plate.

“Perhaps not ill, but with a child?” his mother adds with a grin.

Forwin’s family isn’t entirely pleased with your marriage, but they understand the necessity. They are gradually warming up to you, but politics doesn’t demand they love you dearly as their lawful daughter.

“I do not believe so, but we are trying,” you say with a large smile, one you have mastered in all your political dealings. You take Forwin’s hand, who gives you a small smile as well. “I have no doubt we will have a strong son, like our union of your land and ours.”

Everyone seems pleased by your declaration, but you notice Forwin slip his hand from yours to reach for his wine. When he sees your inquisitive expression, a hint of a smile graces his lips and he gives you a subtle nod. Rather than express you confusion, you focus on taking a few bites of your meal.

Forwin wraps his arms around you as you lie in his bed. “Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod, and he keeps his body gently pressed to your back. He is muscular in the way other men aspire to be. You prefer Alexandria’s smooth skin and soft body, but you feel safe in his embrace. You know Alexandria is sleeping in her own quarters for the night after a long day of cleaning the ballroom in preparation of some extravagant dinner Geoffrey insisted on hosting with your father, so you don’t rush off.

You’re both quiet, and it’s no longer awkward—it’s understood between the two of you. You have a good friendship, and you find that Forwin makes you laugh quite often when you spend leisure time together. You’ve learned a lot about him, like his love for archery. He confessed that his father once took him hunting when he was ten, and poor little Forwin wouldn’t stop crying after killing a buck in one shot.

After inquiring about your little sketches in the margins of your academic writing, you showed him a few of the sketches you’ve done. You have a natural talent, but art isn’t something princesses are to devote much time to. He understands the burden well, and much of his humor is based in the ridiculousness of the royal lifestyle. You find it refreshing to be with someone so very aware of the dated traditions. His humor and your small escapes give you both freedom from the narrow walls of the castle. When he said he was scolded for being a “dreamer” by his father as a young teen, you said, “I don’t think people dream enough. Without dreams how do we make a better reality? I like that you aspire to change things.” He kissed you on the cheek so tenderly and whispered a thank you.

“It’s nice,” he says quietly, “to have someone to hold.”

You nod and turn in his arms to face him. “It is.”

He grins and runs his hand up and down your bare arm. “Before you return to your chambers, could we speak openly?” he asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes. Of what?”

“I would not mention this if I weren’t concerned for dear Agnes’s health,” he says with a hint of a grin.

“Is something wrong with Agnes?” you question, having been quite oblivious to her older maid’s state.

“She came to me three nights ago, obviously torn about something she wished to tell me…” he hesitates, but then continues to trail his fingers along your arm, “about your maid, Alexandria.”

You feel the blood drain from your face and swallow uneasily. “What worried her?” you ask, forcing your voice to sound as calm as possible.

“She has noted Alexandria’s absences from the servants’ quarters,” he states, “as have a few others who asked Agnes to speak with me.”

Your mouth is dry, and you hate that politics has entered the bedroom. You try to take a steadying breath, but it escapes you as a kind of whimper.

“Oh, darling,” Forwin says softly, bringing a hand to caress your cheek. “Constantine, I worry not about her absence. She is a fine servant.”

You shake your head and pull away from him, sitting up in bed. Tears begin to flow freely. “And what do you make of her absences?” You curse yourself at the sound of your trembling voice.

“I know she isn’t causing harm, and she is always on time for her duties and completes all the tasks asked of her. There is nothing to make of it.”

“But the rumors,” you manage to say as he sits up beside you, “I’m sure they were delivered as well.”

“They are but rumors,” he says quietly.

“But—”

Forwin cuts you off by taking your chin in his hand and holding your gaze. “Constantine, there will be many, but they are simply that,” he continues. “Like the rumors that we are not lovers, or the rumors that the prince and princess have other lovers. Rumors… they won’t harm us… nor will they harm Alexandria. Do you understand, Constantine?”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks as you look at him. “You…”

You can’t finish your question, but he nods. “My father,” he says in a quiet voice with a sigh, “has taken other women to his bed for his own pleasures. What we don’t discuss doesn’t exist. What we don’t argue with the peasants will never become a problem.”

You swallow down your nerves and nod. “But you… have you…?”

Forwin grins a little and shakes his head. “Perhaps in the future, but I have never been one to lust for another’s company. Love must come with it,” he says. “You… are a very special woman, Constantine. Your heart is strong, and if it beats strongest with Alexandria, I would never want to stifle that.”

Without much thought, you throw your arms around him as a new wave of tears escape you. Instead of crying in dread, you are overwhelmed with this blessing.

“We must, however, keep this from my father,” he says into your embrace.

“Even though he laid with others as well?”

Forwin nods solemnly as you part. “He is… traditional. He finds women have no right to lie with another, that it corrupts the bloodline. I fear he would at the very least excommunicate dear Alexandria.”

“We’ll be careful,” you promise.

Forwin rubs your shoulder reassuringly. “You should dress and return to your chambers to rest.”

You nod in agreement and stand to retrieve your clothing. After you slip into your dress, you turn toward Forwin who still lies in his bed. “What did you tell Agnes?”

He grins. “I asked if she too felt close to other women when she was young, so I explained that you find company of a young woman your age comforting. I’m almost certain Agnes came into the world as a worried woman with graying hair, but it was enough of an answer for her to feel relieved from her burden of knowledge.”

You smile in return. “Indeed. She has always done the worrying in the palace.” You pause as you consider Agnes’s concern. “Do you think she believes it?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I think she holds her duty as a servant to our families higher than her status among the gossiping peasantry.” He smiles in reassurance. “You’re loved by many. I would say most people worry not about who keeps you company at night; they care about food for their families and a place to make a home. Hopefully someday, more people will understand that.”

“Thank you, Forwin.”

“Goodnight, Constantine.”

“Goodnight.”

Two months pass, and Forwin has been nothing but kind toward you and Alexandria. Agnes sometimes interrupts your mild flirtations with Alexandria if you’re in public, but otherwise, no one seems the wiser.

The main concern, however, is the nausea still wreaking havoc on your body. You’re with the nurse after a morning of vomiting, Alexandria helps comfort you, rubbing your lower back and wiping your forehead with a cool cloth.

“When did you last bleed?” your nurse asks as she hands you fresh juice.

You sigh as the sweet berries erase the bitterness from your morning illness. “Over a month.”

“Well, Your Highness, you should worry not,” she says with a grin, patting your back. “Our princess is carrying our next heir. Should I tell the rest of the royal family?”

You nod and smile weakly before consuming the rest of the juice. When she’s gone, Alexandria kneels beside your bed and takes your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks, resting her chin on the bed.

“Yes,” you say, watching as Alexandria takes the small cup from your hand and places it on the small table. You take her wrist and gently pull her toward you. She climbs into the bed and lies facing you. “Does this make you think differently of me?”

She shakes her head. “It reminds me of what a strong woman you are.” She places her hand over your stomach. “He’s yours. How could I not love a life you carry?”

Your eyes sting as tears form. You let out a small laugh as you rub them. “I hope I won’t be crying each day until the child’s born.”

“You can feel however you feel without judgment from me,” Alexandria says. “Forwin has been kind to us. A child of his and yours is sure to be strongest when it comes to his heart.” She places a kiss to your forehead and holds you close. With Alexandria’s words of comfort, you fall into a restful sleep.

On the nights Forwin invites you to his chambers, he gently presses his hand to your stomach and prays for a son. Many men hope for a son, but you know he wishes for one to relieve you from the burden of having an heir. Your father was unwilling to have another child when your mother almost died birthing you, and the public’s shaming wore heavily on him; he never regretted it though, and he always makes sure to tell you with each parting how much he loves you.

The nights you spend with Alexandria, she also feels your stomach. She looks at you with awe when you take her hand and press it to where the baby is kicking.

One night, when the child is especially active, Alexandria rubs your back as you sit up in bed, hoping the pressure on your back eventually passes and he’ll shift his position.

“He seems to be training for battle,” Alexandria jokes, and you manage to laugh through your discomfort.

“You’ll have to train him,” you say, holding your now large stomach.

“I am sure Forwin will find him a skilled swordsman,” she says, applying some pressure so the baby moves ever so slightly. “I would prefer caring for the child in gentler ways.”

“What ways do you speak of?” You let out a long sigh when you feel the baby’s head shift away from your back so you can lie down.

Alexandria curls up beside you, taking your hand and entwining your fingers. “Bedtime stories,” she says with a grin. “Lullabies.”

“You sing?”  

“Not well,” she says, blushing slightly.

“Sing a song. A lullaby.”

Alexandria doesn’t argue. She just sighs and kisses your cheek. Then, gently rubbing your stomach, she begins to sing a lullaby you’ve never heard before. The accent with which she sings tells you it must be from her homeland. Her voice is quiet, but it never wavers. It reminds you of the wind as you rode on your horse together, the calm carried in the melody.

“You are a lovely singer,” you say when she finishes.

“I can only hope he thinks the same.”

“He will,” you say, resting your hand atop hers. “I think he’s asleep now.”

“We should sleep as well.”

You hum in agreement. Alexandria puts out the candles before settling back into bed. Wrapped in her arms, her lullaby continues to play in your mind as you fall asleep.

You wanted to speak with Forwin about traveling to the town markets in the morning, so you are almost at the door of a council room where you know he was meeting with his father when you hear raised voices.

“How can you be sure?” you hear King Geoffrey ask.

“There is no other man in her life, father. She is my wife. She is the mother of my child. Our child, rather.”

“She does not act as a wife.”

“You are in her family’s castle. Do not speak disrespectfully of her,” Forwin demands.

“Then what is this I hear of the company she keeps at night?”

“Who speaks of this? Servants?”

“Yes, because it seems as if it may be one of their own.”

Without much thought, you burst through the door. “You will cease this conversation right now.”

“It concerns the legitimacy of the heir to the throne,” Geoffrey says, standing tall and looking at you with disgust.

“Forwin is the father, and that is all you need to know.”

“So Forwin need not worry about your preference of keeping vermin in your bed?” he spits.

You feel your blood boil, and you’re sure if you were closer you would strike him.

“You will not speak to my wife that way!” Forwin shouts in a loud voice, one filled with anger. You’ve never heard him speak with anything but patience and kindness.

The shouting must have traveled down the halls because Agnes and Alexandria appear in the doorway.

“I apologize for disturbing your rest,” Forwin says in a gentle tone to them. “Please return to your chambers. We were just ending this conversation.”

They both nod, but Alexandria looks at you with concern. Before they can leave, Geoffrey interrupts. “No, let them stay.”

You turn to him with a cold glare.

“Dear Agnes,” Geoffrey says in a grossly sweet voice, “you have served as a maid for Princess Constantine all her life, yes?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replies quietly.

“Would you say the princess has been honest her whole life?”

Agnes bites her lip under the king’s scrutiny. “Yes. Other than small lies as a child, she has always been honest.”

“Honest… and pure?”

You see Alexandria clench her fists as she stands beside Agnes.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Agnes replies.

“Then what is this I hear of Constantine keeping company in her chambers at night?”

“I am not aware of—”

“Your name came up, Agnes. You spoke to my son about it even,” Geoffrey says, approaching the maids. He turns his gaze upon Alexandria, who stands with a stolid expression and clenched jaw. “And you? You see Constantine to sleep, yes?”

“Yes,” Alexandria says, almost a growl. “Those rumors are unfounded.”

“It must be one of their own,” Geoffrey says, chuckling as if this were all for his amusement. “Why else would they play dumb?” He turns back to Alexandria with a smirk. “I didn’t buy her for her intelligence though, so that should have been expected.”

“You will stop this at once,” you demand in a harsh voice. “King or not, you are in my home. You are speaking to my maids. I will not have you hurling insults at me, my husband, Agnes, or Alexandria.” Geoffrey seems unfazed, but you step up to him. Even though you’re a few inches shorter, you refuse to let him tower over you. “I’ll arrange to have you leave in the morning.”

“You are quite a hostess, Princess,” he replies with a sneer.

“I can arrange you leave now, if you wish to avoid the vermin we keep,” you hiss.

“I’ll tell my wife, and we’ll have our things packed by morning.”

“The Queen is actually needed tomorrow to meet with my father about the coming ball, so you’ll be traveling with your servants,” you say. “She is a courteous guest, and we find her knowledge in planning such events to be very important.”

Geoffrey merely scoffs before all but storming out of the room. After watching him exit the room, you turn to Forwin.

“I would apologize if I actually felt I made a mistake,” you say, trying to read Forwin’s expression. “I only regret making you uncomfortable for such words exchanged with your father.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “You are a fierce princess, and I admire your adamant defense of your values. You rule with a head and a heart, and I am very proud to have such a wife.”

You feel your heart clench at his last word, but you smile and nod.

“Dear Agnes, you are dismissed.”

She nods, but her expression is somber. “I will accompany you to your chambers,” you say in a kind tone. “Alexandria, would you ready me a bath? I feel I need one after such a night.”

“Yes, Princess,” she replies quietly.

“Goodnight, Forwin,” you say, walking over and kissing him on the cheek. “I am proud to have married such a caring man.”

“Goodnight, Constantine,” he replies with his half-grin.

You walk quietly alongside Agnes for a moment before you finally begin the conversation that’s been looming. “You must know, dear Agnes. I am sorry if it is burdensome.”

She looks straight ahead and opens her mouth as if to reply, but then stops to think for a moment.

You stop walking and take her hand to have her face you. “Are you angry with me? Do you find me foolish?” you ask, genuinely curious as to her thoughts of the whole thing.

“Love is foolish in any way,” she says with a sad smile. “I care so very much for you, darling. I wish you could have that love with Prince Forwin, but you cannot force love.”

“It is not forced with Alexandria,” you confess. “She’s special. She’s brave and strong, but so very gentle with me. She makes me stop to take in beautiful moments I would have otherwise missed. She adds color to my life, and so many things were so grey and dreary before I met her. It feels something like a miracle to know she loves me back.”

“I believe you,” Agnes says, taking both of your hands in hers. “I will do all I can to ensure your love is safe. The greatest gift, ever since you were a child, is your happiness.”

At her words, you throw your arms around her. “You are a wonderful woman, dear Agnes.”

“As are you, Princess.”

After leaving Agnes to ready for bed, you make your way to the baths. When you enter, there are candles around the bath and moonlight coming in from the window. It’s peaceful, smelling of fresh perfume and oils.

“Are you okay?” Alexandria asks, appearing with clothes to dress you.

“Yes,” you say, walking up to her and taking the clothing from her hands and placing them on a nearby chair. “Are you?”

She nods.

You start to unlace her dress, and she looks at you with an inquisitive expression. “We both need a bath,” you reply with a grin. You almost laugh when you watch her swallow at your words, and you’ll always enjoy the moments when you get one of her modest reactions. Her dress pools at her feet, and you stare openly at her in the moonlight. She captures your lips in a deep kiss, and you feel her begin to untie your own dress before it joins hers on the floor. Agnes would have a fit seeing your clothing on the ground, but your entire focus is on the feeling of Alexandria’s skin against yours, her tongue gliding across your bottom lip.

You both step into the bath, and Alexandria lets you lean back against her front so she can rub your shoulders. You sigh as you feel the tension slowly leaving your body. You laugh when you feel the baby move.

“What is it?” Alexandria asks, pausing her massage.

“The little one is moving about,” you say, taking one of her hands and placing it on your stomach. He seems to find a comfortable position and stills. You sigh and lean into Alexandria’s embrace. “I dreamt he had your eyes,” you say with a little laugh. “Which is impossible, but I wish it could happen. I wish he could be yours too.”

She chuckles lightly, and you feel her breath on the back of your neck. “I’ll love him dearly, and that will be enough for him to know he’s mine in a different way.”

You eventually get out when the water begins to cool, and you both laugh as you dress for bed. Forwin visits to ensure you and Alexandria are feeling okay after the earlier argument. He bids you a good night after you both assure him you’re calm. And you are, falling asleep with your ear pressed to Alexandria’s heartbeat.

Prince Amfrid is born with almost a full head of brown hair, a bit small in size, but healthy. Forwin stood to one side of your bed, Alexandria to your other. When Amfrid is placed in your arms, you can hardly make out his face as your cry. You kiss his forehead and wipe your tears, wondering how this little infant would one day become a man, how he was once part of you and is now his own being. You smile because you wonder if he’ll have your eyes, perhaps Forwin’s smile, and you laugh lightly at the idea of him stomping his foot like you did when you would throw small tantrums as a toddler.

You let Forwin hold him, and he whispers softly to the baby. Alexandria adds a couple pillows behind you so you can lean back but remain upright. When you do, she uses a fresh cloth to cool your warm face.

“Thank you,” you say, taking her hand and smiling.

She leans down and presses her lips to your forehead, paying no mind to a few other servants moving about the room. Some servants still see such interactions and stare for a moment too long in curiosity, but the topic of your relationship with Alexandria never reaches above a dull murmur from the servants’ quarters.

You hear Amfrid cooing and see him moving his head about as Forwin walks him around the room. When he rounds your bed, he quietly gets Alexandria’s attention.

“You have raised him as much as I in the past months,” Forwin says with a kind smile, “so it seems right you hold him.”

Alexandria nods, and you watch her swallow nervously before Forwin places him in her arms. If she were at all hesitant, it doesn’t show. It seems natural, and Amfrid fits so perfectly in her arms.

“Hello, little prince,” she whispers with a small grin.

Amfrid coos in response, and Forwin chuckles. “He probably recognizes your voice, which is much more pleasant than mine, I’m sure.” You place your hand on his as he sits to your side. “What a beautiful child we have,” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you are both healthy.”

“Me too,” you say as the fatigue sinks in and your eyes begin to droop.

You both quiet when you hear Alexandria start to sing the lullaby, and the sound of her voice lulls you and Amfrid to sleep.

You and Forwin return to the castle at dusk after a long day of meetings with councils and advisors. You manage to gracefully hop off of your horse and walk her to the stable boys. Your riding has only improved over the years, and it has proven quite useful for your travels.

You round the gardens, the clack of wood against wood echoing off the walls of the castle. A little voice cheers, and you smile at the sound of his little claps and giggles. When you reach the courtyard, you find Alexandria teaching Asher more sword work while Agnes holds Amfrid in her lap to the side.

Alexandria sees you and smiles, but in the time lets her guard down long enough for Asher to strike her. Alexandria stumbles back, a bit surprised, but recovers well and praises Asher. When he follows her gaze, he quickly bows his head and greets you with a, “Princess Constantine.”

“Good evening, Asher.”

“Mama!” Amfrid yells, running as fast as his little legs can carry him to you.

You bend down and pick him up into your arms. “Hello, my darling,” you say as he brings his little hands up to your cheeks. “Have you behaved?” He nods excitedly, and when you look to Agnes, she nods in confirmation. “Perhaps Grandpapa will have a treat for you then.”

Once Alexandria has the wooden swords packed away, she ruffles Asher’s hair, even though he’s getting older, he grins. He admires her just as much as he did four years ago, and now that he’s fourteen, he’s truly growing into a man. Asher bids you a goodnight before leaving for home for the night. Alexandria finally makes her way over as Amfrid is in the middle of telling you about his day. She rubs his back and gives his cheek a kiss, making him giggle.

You turn your head to her and welcome the familiar feeling of her lips against yours. “Welcome back, Princess,” she says quietly. “Did you fare well in all your meetings?”

“Yes, but I’m glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too, Mama!” Amfrid exclaims, throwing his arms up.

“The two of us are. I’m afraid it’s time for you to sleep, little one.”

Amfrid immediately pouts. “Mama, can you and Awexandia put me to bed?” He is still working on pronouncing some names correctly.

“Why not Papa?”

“I want Awexandia to sing, and Papa isn’t a good singer,” he says with a furrowed brow.

You laugh. “This is true. Papa has to work with Grandpapa tonight anyway,” you say as the three of you make your way back into the castle.

You and Alexandria bring him to his chambers, smaller than yours but cozy and without ridiculous embellishments like Geoffrey wished to bestow on him. Forwin stops in to wish him a goodnight and kiss his forehead and give him his goodnight “bear hug,” where he picks up Amfrid and hugs him tight with a growl. Forwin wishes you and Alexandria a goodnight before making his way to the library where he is to meet with your father to discuss politics and smoke their pipes.

You laugh as Alexandria hoists Amfrid onto his bed as she usually does. “Why, Prince Amfrid! You’re growing like a beanstalk!” she says in a shocked voice, a tradition whenever she dresses him for bed. He giggles, and your heart swells at the sight of him lightly bouncing about as Alexandria gathers his nightclothes. He raises his arms up straight, and she pulls his shirt off and then dresses him in one of Forwin’s old shirts Amfrid likes to wear as a nightgown. Amfrid always like to run his hands through your or Alexandria’s hair as he falls asleep, but since you’re trying to have him sleep in his own bed at night, Agnes has stitched the green silk ribbon into his blanket, which he rubs between his fingers until he falls asleep.

You and Alexandria tuck him in, and he’s already yawning when Alexandria begins to sing his favorite lullaby. You rest your head on her shoulder as she sings, and soon enough, Amfrid is asleep with a little smile on his face.

You take Alexandria’s hand as you walk back to your chambers.

“How was your day?” you ask as you close the door.

“As good as a day can be without you,” she replies, smiling as she begins to untie your dress.

When she moves to retrieve your nightgown, you gently take her wrist and shake your head. You let out a small laugh when she flushes. You are both still young, and your love holds a kind of innocence and excitement. You slowly start to undress her, and you let your lips graze the exposed skin.

You fall into bed, and you capture her lips, suddenly craving her as the time without her catches up. You’ve spoken so many words, delegating tasks and discussing strategies with your father and Forwin. Now you don’t need as many. You just need to whisper “I love you” and “Alexandria” into the night, and your bodies speak of yearning, of desire, of wholeness when pressed together.

You refuse to let Alexandria touch you first. You watch her come undone beneath you several times, making sure she knows just how much you miss her when you’re away, before you let her pleasure you. You both are falling asleep in one another’s arms when the chamber door opens. You throw on a nearby nightgown when you hear Amfrid call for you. Alexandria dresses quickly as well, rubbing her eyes as she sits on the edge of the bed.

You walk over and pick him up, carrying him to the bed, too tired to walk him back to his chambers and convince him to sleep by himself. Alexandria lies back into the bed, and Amfrid immediately snuggles into her.

“I had a nightmare,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

“Nightmares aren’t real, darling,” Alexandria says gently as he begins to play with a strand of her hair. “But we’ll keep them away for tonight.”

You climb back into bed and curl up beside him. Alexandria’s hand finds yours in the dark, and soon you hear their quiet, steady breathing as they fall back to sleep. You close your eyes and let yourself fall asleep, knowing in this moment you have so much love so near—that love like this lasts so much longer than mortality.