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thedeadflag · 7 years

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Looking For the Magic (Pt 1)

Tentative title for Option B, the magical Witch Fic WIP one-shot I’ve been struggling to finish. I’ll be posting blocks of this with the tags #lookingforthemagic and #witchfic, in case you don’t want a few thousand words muddying up your dash. I think mobile still doesn’t use the ‘read more’ function, so I figure this would be as good a workaround for folks.

Content Warning (for the story as a whole): transphobia, cissexism, physical assault, misogyny, sexual content

Part 1 under the cut.

Life was annoying, Anya decided.

You’d wake up, go through a bunch of tedious routines, sometimes work, find time to eat a few times a day, and then you’d sleep. Rinse and repeat. And when she was always surrounded by imbeciles, well, that didn’t make her situation any better. No, life was annoying, even if the other witches in the coven weren’t so convinced.

They’d been on some tiresome road trip up north to a place where a historical coven was founded, resting atop an intense intersect of ley lines. Anya couldn’t quite bring herself to care about history in freezing weather, especially while she crammed into a large hotel room, surrounded by a half-dozen people she didn’t really care for aside from her cousin, Lexa.

Or, well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, as her eyes found a familiar blue-eyed blonde across the room, shivering in an empty corner and alone. Of course, she wasn’t exactly friends with Clarke Griffin, but the girl had always caught her eye, and aside from her beauty, she seemed sweet enough. Call her a sap, but Anya was a sucker for a nice girl with a pretty smile, and Clarke’s? Well...

Anyway, they’d made their pilgrimage up north, only to run into a blizzard. Not exactly a surprise given it was the dead of winter and the forecast had been calling for storms in the area for the past week. Didn’t exactly surprise them, or at least it shouldn't have.

Sure, one of the elder witches could have used her abilities to still the stormy weather outside, or simply have let Anya do the honours, but that would break 'the code' and potentially draw unwanted attention, so instead, they were holed up in hotel rooms for the night, waiting for the storm to pass.

She understood, of course. It was literally her role in the coven to uphold the code and to subdue outside threats who would try to break it for their own means. Still, she hated freezing weather.

And maybe because of her own stormy mood through the whole trip, the others had grabbed up spots on the beds, leaving her to curl up on the floor with her oversized blankets. Which, whatever. They might not be able to quell the storm outside, but her affinity was elemental magic; she was just fine under her blankets, channeling a bit of heat to warm herself and the space she was resting on.

Clarke, on the other hand, hadn’t managed to grab a spot on the beds in time, and looked absolutely miserable off in the corner, quivering like a leaf. Whatever specialty the other blonde had, it didn't include anything involved with heat, that was for sure. While Anya had never been known to be the most hospitable person to relative strangers, this was Clarke Griffin, the certifiably cute girl she might have had a bit of a crush on for ages.

Sure, she'd never managed the guts to talk to her when she was younger, and left their stream to graduate into a different coven before she could even remotely become friends with her, but the feelings had remained over the years. They only grew again after her transfer to their current coven. Not that she'd act on those feelings, certainly not so brusquely, but she could finally extend an olive branch to her crush. There were worse things than sharing her sleeping area.

“Clarke...Clarke...” She whispered across to the blonde, letting out an annoyed growl when the girl didn’t register her voice. When blue eyes darted towards her at the sound of her frustration, she could only roll her eyes. “Do you want hypothermia? Get over here!”

Clarke eyed her blankets with clear yearning, but shook her head. “They’re yours. I don’t want to bother you.”

Anya let out a scoff and threw her blankets back a little, enough to hold out a hand palm upwards, summoning a small flame after a brief whispered incantation. “Don’t be dense. I don’t want you to freeze to death. Plenty of room here for us both.”

Clarke hesitated for a few moments before letting out a lengthy sigh and crawling over to her. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Anya flung the blankets back and patted the spot beside her, watching as Clarke settled down onto it, an immediately relieved smile blooming on the girl’s face. "Oh wow, it’s so warm. Thank you." Clarke murmured, only seeming more content with the warm blankets that were draped over her. "Remind me to sit by you on the bus ride tomorrow."

“Whatever. Just sleep.” Anya mumbled as she let out another burst of warmth into the pocket of air they were sharing, doing her best not to show how happy and excited she was that Clarke had taken her up on her offer, and that the girl was maybe considering sitting by her on the bus tomorrow. Looking overeager only ever led to rejection, she learned that the hard way.

Clarke did indeed sleep, zonking out almost right away, which made for a double-edged sword.

On one hand, Anya wasn’t being kept up by Griffin talking, or moving around trying to get comfy, or anything like what she often dealt with when sleeping over at Lexa’s. However, the silence and ever-present steady breathing coming from her gave Anya’s mind a lot of space to think about the future. About a potential friendship with Clarke. About maybe potentially something else off into the future if Clarke swung that way and wound up single.

Between her thoughts and how tired she was, Anya fell into a haze, half asleep and slipping in and out of shallow dreams and semi-conscious thoughts on the girl beside her.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how much time had passed, and figured she was stuck in a dream for a few moments before she pieced together that the sudden warmth and curious wetness was real, that the sounds coming from Clarke were actually happening, and that the other blonde had actually closed the distance.

Anya needed a few more moments for the location of the wetness and friction to register, and a few seconds longer to think past the fact that Clarke had woke her up to recognize that maybe it'd be a good idea to see what was going on, since Clarke was definitely straddling one of her thighs and all.

"Clarke...? Whuh you doin'?" Anya slurred out, blinking away her sleep. She moved to roll away from the girl, but Clarke held fast and, more than that, held her down, body writhing against her, hips rolling against her right thigh.

It didn't seem possible, didn't seem real, but Clarke was humping the hell out of her, and sounded like she was close, a small annoyed grumble signaling that the blue-eyed beauty was quite content with where she was.

"Clarke, I'm not a damned pillow you can..." She started to say, hand reaching down to tilt the other blonde's head up to face her, not wanting Clarke to be able to ignore her. Except, it was clear as day, even in the dimness of the room, that Clarke wasn't exactly present, given how completely dazed the girl looked, as if her body was just on autopilot. Anya wasn't sure how to feel outside of deeply confused as she lay there, Clarke's climax building as her thigh got more and more soaked.

In all honesty, she was concerned. She'd heard of sleepwalking, talking in your sleep, that sort of thing. Anything remotely sexual while asleep? Anya had chalked that particular notion up as a myth before tonight. None of her past partners had even remotely done anything sexual while zonked out.

Yet, the quiet whimper and tight grip as Clarke's body shook, the girl clinging hard to her as an orgasm ran its course, let Anya know it was anything but a myth. And Clarke certainly wouldn't have behaved like that if she had full control of herself, so Anya knew she needed to take care of this properly, make sure Clarke was safe. After all, that was her role in the coven, so it wasn't as if anyone would think it strange; she'd physically defended their coven and innocents, and she'd hidden or destroyed harmful secrets. A wide range of tasks was in her job description, so protecting Clarke from whatever fallout there could be from this was her responsibility.

It wasn't as if she was head over heels and taking orders from her heart or anything like that, after all.

Slowly, the tension bled out of the blonde atop her, and Clarke's relaxed body curled up against her with a happy hum.

While all Anya wanted to do was catch a few more hours of sleep, especially with Clarke snuggled up halfway atop her, she knew she couldn't leave Clarke until the morning, when others might be up. Discretion seemed like it'd be important, given the circumstances, and Anya didn't want Clarke to be embarrassed. Even if she herself had suffered worse, she wouldn't wish anything of the sort for Clarke.

Gently, she took hold of the girl's shoulders and shook, jostling Clarke repeatedly until tired eyes fluttered open, a furrowed brow and an annoyed pout meeting her gaze. Clearly, she didn't like her sleep being disturbed.

"What? Tryin' to sleep, Anya." Clarke grumbled, letting out a frustrated huff as she propped herself up on an elbow.

Anya swallowed, unsure what words were appropriate, but that she needed to say something. "Clarke, you need to wake up."

Clarke's head cocked to the side in clear confusion, the girl moving to shift from her spot nestled against her when Griffin just froze, eyes widening. "Oh shit....oh shit shit shit..."

Clarke immediately went to move away, but Anya didn't like the sheer panic written on the girl's face, so she wrapped her arms around Clarke's waist, holding her in place. "Don't freak out, it's whatever." Anya stated in her best reassuring voice, but Clarke wasn't having any of it. Even in the low light, she could see the glassiness of Clarke's eyes clearly. "How about we just take it easy for a bit, Clarke?" She added, reaching up to brush a fallen tear from the girl's cheek.

"I have no idea how to do that." Clarke grit out in a harsh whisper as she leaned away, breath hitching as a wave of realization seemed to wash over her. "Oh goddess, you must hate me now!"

Anya rolled her eyes, unsure how Griffin got that impression at all. With as much courage as she could muster, she reached down with a hand and ran her fingers across the slick coating atop her pajamas. Without a moment's hesitation, she brought it up and lightly smacked Clarke in the cheek with her wet fingers, stunning the girl.

"Stop it. You weren't in control. I don't hold it against you. But we need to clean up, and you need to calm down." Anya spoke slowly, holding Clarke's gaze, halfway wishing she could see the blues of her eyes, but she'd take what she could get. Anya maintained eye contact and waited as the other girl's breathing slowed and evened out. "You're okay. Tell me when you're good to head in."

Clarke nodded and kept working at her breathing. "I don't understand why you're not freaking out."

Anya swallowed hard and let out a heavy breath. "Not the exact same deal, but I might sort of know what it's like." Of course, she'd dealt with her own mishaps alone, in secret, no witnesses to be had, but she could empathize. She knew how scary it was for her body to betray her, and how embarrassing or humiliating it could feel to deal with the aftermath. Clarke deserved as much support through it as she might have liked in ideal circumstances.

Clarke let out a hollow laugh as she shook her head. "I doubt that."

Anya took the dismissal in stride, knowing she probably would have said the same in Clarke's shoes. "If you can talk, you can walk. Let's get washed up." Anya noted, rolling out from under Clarke and grabbing their luggage, hauling it quietly into the hotel room bathroom. Clarke followed her in a few moments later, her posture of movements all screaming discomfort and caution. "You want to shower first, or after?"

Clarke kept her eyes downcast, cheeks fiercely red under the harsh fluorescent lighting. "Second. Again, I'm sorry." Clarke reiterated, slumping back against the sink. "I didn't mean to. It's just...I'm not on meds for it yet. So I just...yeah. Sorry."

She cocked her head, brain whirring away at the other girl's words, wondering what medication might help with it. "You don't have to apologize. Is this...is this common, though?"

The immediate red tint at Clarke's cheeks almost had her heart thrumming faster than the sharp, steely glare Clarke shot her way, even if that glare only lasted a second or two. "I didn't fucking cum all over you because you're special or something. Don't take this as something it's not."

"I apologize, and I just didn't think you'd...well. It's just I woke up with you straddling my thigh, and you were a foot or two away before..."

"I'm a restless sleeper!" Clarke hissed in a barely muted whisper, head angling back to let out an exasperated sigh. "I sleep with a body pillow, so I'm constantly shifting around and ready to latch onto what’s soft and warm nearby. But...anyways, it's happened before. You weren't the reason."

Anya shook her head. "I wouldn't think I was. We don't even know each other well. In the end, it doesn't matter...I just want you comfortable, Clarke. I'm doing a bad job of it, and I'm sorry for that." She said, her mouth twisting as she pondered her options. It had been a while since she was brazen, or took such a risk in trusting someone, but she knew how horrible being vulnerable could feel. She wanted Clarke to feel a bit more secure, and she could tell the girl felt anything but at the moment.

Mind made up, Anya pulled her t-shirt over her head and pulled off her pajama pants, leaving herself half naked. Even though Clarke's gaze was still fixed on the showerhead, she could see the harsh swallow, the tense lines of her throat. "Look, we both know how it feels for our bodies to do stuff we don't want and can't control. You didn't want me to know about this, and I found out. I can speak words, but promises can't make you trust that I won't tell anyone." She said, waiting for a sign that Clarke was listening, a slight nod, before continuing. "So let's level the playing field, Clarke. Because I trust you not to disclose to the others that I'm trans."

With that, Anya grabbed for a towel and finished disrobing underneath it, allowing herself to be nearly nude in front of another person for the first time since just before her exile from her previous coven. She could feel the dysphoria burning in her gut, threatening to spread out and consume her, but she kept focus on finding her shower products in her toiletries bag, not wanting to make a huge deal out of the revelation.

"If you put your dirty clothes in the sink, I'll wash and dry them later while you clean up." She offered before stepping into the shower, setting her products on the ledge and shutting the curtain.

Anya knew it'd likely be awkward between them, but she hoped, if nothing else, that she'd reassured the other girl even just a little bit. Maybe from that, they could start towards friendship.

Just maybe.

Clarke felt sheepish huddled up on the toilet seat in the biggest towel she could find, but given her situation, it was a necessity. Her sexsomnia had gotten her in trouble with Anya, and the last thing she needed was her fellow witch to be thrust into even more of an uncomfortable situation than they already had been.

It didn't matter what Anya said, Clarke knew the girl had to have taken some issue with what happened. People didn't just get their thighs used for orgasms by a stranger and shrug it off. And even if Anya could for some reason, she certainly woke the girl up in the middle of the night and had her doing laundry. No one liked being woken up to do chores. Still, Anya had been kind of sweet about it all, if a little clumsy, and had gone over the top to make her feel comfortable with it all.

Not that she could, but it was the thought that counted. Clarke couldn't shake the guilt over not having sought out medical help with her situation earlier, but it was a tiny bit comforting to know Anya was being good about it all.

Maybe it didn't hurt that she'd already been crushing on the tall, thorny witch since long before she arrived back in the coven after a few years away. She’d had a longstanding crush on her in their younger years as initiates, and had despaired when Anya suddenly graduated into a different coven than most of their stream, something no one had really expected.

When Anya was welcomed into her coven a little under a year ago, she was different, much thornier and more distant than even before, if also more beautiful, but experiencing this softer side of the girl only endeared her to Anya more. Learning she was trans was a little confusing, and had her off balance for a few minutes, but again, it was clear that Anya trusted her.

That was more than enough to trust her with the rest of the night. Maybe once they were on the bus curled up together, maybe she could have a more than necessary conversation with her about spending some more time together, something she had hoped for once upon a time, before Anya had vanished way back when.

Clarke startled a bit at the sound of the shower turning off. "Just letting you know I'm done in here. Stepping out now."

Clarke moved to the sink, giving Anya plenty of space as she left the shower and grabbed the towel she'd set out.

"Oh, you did leave out your clothes. Good, I can wash and dry them along with mine." Anya continued as she covered up, lifting a hand to her head and emanating some level of heat as the girl's hair dried quickly without frizzing.

Clarke nodded and squeezed past her, stopping on the bath mat. "Thank you, Anya." She murmured before getting behind the shower curtain and tossing her towel out behind her.

The water was still warm, thankfully, letting her get to business quickly in cleaning up. She didn't bother washing her hair, just keeping it up in a bun while she got to it.

Her memory flashed back to when she was being drawn out of slumber, and the brief moment of comfort and contentment at realizing she was cuddled up with Anya. Sure, she'd been annoyed at being woken up, but staring down at a face that was normally so hard and closed off, only to see an oddly soft expression staring back at her, it did something to her.

Maybe she'd like Anya to look at her like that again one day.

It didn't take long to get clean, and she could hear the sink running when she turned the shower off. Careful as she could, she grabbed up her towels from the shower mat and covered herself up before stepping out. Anya was standing over the sink and mumbling, one hand holding up her pajama pants, and the other weaving water through it.

Clarke watched as the girl used a soapy mixture of water in turn, then another rinse and heat to set it. It was strange, basically seeing Anya use her magic to be a human washing machine, but it had her wondering what other ingenious ways the girl could use her specialty.

Her own was a bit simpler. It wasn't much of anything she confided in many others about, not wanting to garner scrutiny. Having the affinity to 'Jedi mind trick' someone, as Raven often put it, was a dangerous ability, especially since that was a bit of an understatement. More Kilgrave than Kenobi, except it did at least require her to make preparations or at least make an effort instead of a thoughtless word potentially being life-threatening.

It was all a big reason why she kept her distance from most in any meaningful way, but maybe Anya wouldn't be horrified. Maybe.

It wasn't until Anya finished with her pajamas that she seemed to realize that the shower was off, startling a little, head swiveling around to gaze in the shower's direction, settling on her. "I put your stuff on the toilet seat. They should still be clean and warm."

"Thank you." She noted sincerely, taking hold of the garments and slipping back behind the shower curtain to change. Embarrassing or not, Anya had cleaned her panties. On top of that, her clothes were all deliciously warm, and by the time she stepped back out, the residual heat was more than enough to make her feel sleepy again. "You didn't have to do any of this. You could have hated me."

"Why would I do that?" Anya asked with a level of confusion so audible and visible that Clarke wondered if Anya had forgotten about what happened out in the hotel room. "Anyways, it's okay. You're part of my coven, so I'm here to help. You're a good person. You didn't do anything wrong." Anya added flatly, shaking her head.

Clarke wasn't entirely sure on what track record Anya was making that judgment, but she appreciated the sentiment. "We should get back to sleep." She let out with a yawn. Anya readily agreed, taking hold of what seemed to be the blankets and their luggage as they quietly left the bathroom, the others in the room still fast asleep. Where the girl found the time to do all the laundry was a mystery to her, but either way, they sneakily made their way back into the room and settled back down where they'd been.

Anya, apparently a gentlewoman despite how she'd woke her up before, laid the blankets out and settled in a good foot and a half from Clarke. Wanting to figure out if it was manners or disgust causing the distance, Clarke shifted closer. "Pssst..." She let out, waiting for Anya's head to turn towards her before continuing. Thankfully, all she saw in the girl's face was confusion. Manners it was, apparently. "Maybe it's paranoia speaking but I'm a little worried it might happen again. I can't predict it. But maybe...maybe if we spoon, I won't be able to do anything even if my body tries?"

Anya blinked slowly once, twice, before offering a small nod. "That makes sense. I don't move in my sleep, so if I fall asleep holding you, neither of us will be going anywhere."

"Well, your arms might relax, but it's still a better plan than any other." Clarke added, earning a quick huff.

"I thought you'd have realized by now...I don't relax very easily. Not even in my sleep." Anya elaborated with an amused smirk, and alright, perhaps that did make a bit of sense, all things considered. The girl was rather intense, and sometimes even sleep couldn't cure folks of that. "But...Clarke...if your body does try to get off on me again, it won't be your fault. You can't help it. There's no shame in that."

It was a sentiment that even if she couldn't fully believe it, she could take some comfort in it.

With a steadying breath, Clarke rolled onto her other side and scooted backwards, stifling a gasp when she felt herself shuffle up against Anya. She tried to focus on a possible future friendship, cuddling on the bus, that soft expression Anya woke her with, anything but the strong arms around her waist or the soft puffs of breath on her neck that might have her thinking of more explicit things. It was everything she could do to whisk those away in hopes she wouldn't bring about another accident in the night.

"Just sleep, Clarke. Tomorrow's a new day." Anya let out in a yawn, the air around them warming up as Anya nuzzled into her shoulder.

As much as she wanted to appreciate the moment, between the heat, her lack of sleep, and the cozy comfort of being held, she found herself slipping away into slumber quickly. She barely got her arms to cover Anya's before dreams overtook her once more.

Anya had woken up alone a few minutes after the rest of the group had started to rise, and as much as she was a little disappointed in that, she was happy to get on with their ridiculous trip. According to Lexa, the coven traveled up to visit the site every five years, and she'd been unlucky enough to transfer in a little under a year ago, just in time to make the pilgrimage.

To make the day slightly more disappointing, Clarke had taken a seat with someone else on the bus. Raven, Anya was fairly sure, but she'd never been the best with names. Still, at least Lexa kept her company, her cousin deciding that she was more in need of company than Costia, apparently. Which, well, wasn't entirely wrong.

It made for an alright bus ride, Lexa's quiet presence helping settle her nerves and keep her temporarily distracted from the ridiculous trip. However when they departed the bus, and Anya saw two members of the council waiting there that had been off-site with various prior duties, she had a feeling that something was up.

When she watched Lexa, Costia, and Nia get called over, she definitely knew her suspicions were confirmed, hanging back to wait for her cousin while the others went off ahead to the old coven's ritual site.

Anya waited, teeth on edge as the group talked, watching Lexa's expression get darker and angrier with each passing second. There weren't many reasons she could think of for the council congregating out of the blue, but one came to mind after the previous night's events.

Anya shook her head. Clarke Griffin was a lot of things, but she never got the feeling that she was transphobic.

Which meant something absolutely hellish was probably happening, so Anya made the executive decision to sweep the premises for any threats, just wanting to help in case there was some imminent danger or threat.

It was when she noticed small groups of their coven's members head off in the direction of the large barn on the property that she felt real concern. So when she was nearing the end of her sweep and got a text from Lexa, telling her to meet her cousin back near the bus, maybe she'd already psyched herself up mentally for something bad.

She'd seen Lexa furious before, and it was clear as Anya approached that her cousin had merely tamped down on those emotions, trying to appear calmer than she was. Maybe that stirred some worry in Anya's chest, but she pushed it aside and leaned up against the bus beside Lexa.

"What's the verdict?" She asked, figuring some sort of vote had occurred, or was currently happening.

"You don't have to worry, it's been taken care of. Just...expect some hostility from some of the council members going forward." Lexa stated, voice hardly suppressing the cold, flinty anger her cousin often let out when threatened.

Meaning that as stunned as Anya was that she'd been outed, as horrified as she was to have been wrong about Clarke, this was also blowing back on Lexa. And that was unforgivable.

"What can I do to make this right for you?" Anya asked, earning a sharp shake of the head from her cousin.

"No. Nothing. We both know Nia's been gunning for my role in the council ever since I was chosen in the rite. She's using this as a sign that I'm undermining the history and tradition of the coven. The council was...split, which is why all the membership is voting. But I promise you, I have enough support for you, you're not going anywhere." Lexa insisted, her calm facade falling away bit by bit, letting her previous fury leak out. "You're as much a woman, as much a witch, as any of us."

Anya nodded along, head feeling like it was full of cotton as she just stared numbly at the barn off in the distance. She'd been told the same thing at her last coven, and had still been exiled. It didn't matter that their goddess granted her a connection to magic, as She did any other woman in the coven. All that mattered to some was how she had been assigned at birth, an absurd thing to get stuck up on, but apparently not a hatred so easily escapable.

"Did they say who told them?" Anya asked, knowing the answer, but just needing to hear it anyways.

"Sienne said a witch she trusted confided with her, and she confided with other council members before bringing it to me." Lexa answered, Anya's fists clenching hard enough for her nails to cut the skin of her palms. Sienne was Clarke's section supervisor, overseeing all the witches whose affinities fell more in line with research and subterfuge.

Her heart twisted in her chest, knowing she'd trusted Clarke with something so important, only to be betrayed. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, perhaps she'd been foolish, too blinded by her affection to see the truth of Clarke's character.

Anya had woken up that morning hoping to work on a new friendship, but now, with betrayal burning in her chest, with fear for her cousin setting her body on edge, all she could do was hold the line and do whatever she could to protect herself and Lexa. She'd hoped for a new home, a fresh start, but if she couldn't have that, she could at least have her cousin and Costia.

That would have to be enough.

To be honest, the whispering was kind of getting to her.

For the first half of the bus trip, she could tell some of the nearby witches were likely spreading some sort of gossip. Ontari, who was across the aisle from her, kept glancing her way, stifling the occasional laugh as she and her friend whispered away. It was a little annoying, but whatever. The coven had always been a little cliquey.

When they got off the bus, and others would reduce their conversations to a whisper whenever she and Raven were near, that raised a bit of a red flag that maybe something was off.

And when Nia goddamn Frost walked by, staring her down with sheer amusement in her eyes, well, Clarke knew something was going on that involved her.

Given she tended to be pretty low-key within the coven, there was only one possibility that came to mind, but it was hard to accept. Anya, after all, had been so sweet. Anya had trusted her with a secret of her own. There was no reason for the woman to go public about any of the previous night's events.

And yet, she and Anya had been alone. Anya had also been called away not long after they had arrived too meet with the full council, meaning something serious was being discussed. So what other explanation was there?

"Fuck, what is with the rest of the coven today? They're gawking at us like we shit our pants or something." Raven noted with a glare at Nia Frost's retreating frame.

"I made a mistake." Clarke muttered, staring hard in the direction of the barn in the distance. "When something seems too good to be true, it is."

Clarke could see Raven fiddle with the knife at her hip in her peripheral vision. "You need me to beat someone up, Clarkey? You know I've got you, no questions asked."

"Nah. Council's convened, and I'm pretty sure they're throwing the hammer down on her. Probably for 'inciting unrest' in the coven. She'll be someone else's problem soon enough, and...everyone will forget about my crap soon enough." She answered, letting out one last sigh of disappointment, not wanting to waste any more of her emotional energy on Anya. She would feel no guilt over wanting her exiled, and just hoped that people would soon enough forget about her own secret that was clearly spilled.

"And if they don't kick this mystery person out?" Raven asked, eyes narrowing as she shifted weight from one leg to the other.

Clarke turned to face her friend, unable to control the severe expression on her face at the notion. "Then I'll take care of it personally."

#witchfic #lookingforthemagic #clanya fanfiction #clanya #thedeadflag

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thedeadflag · 7 years

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Looking For the Magic (Pt 3)

Content Warning (for the story as a whole): transphobia, cissexism, physical assault, misogyny, sexual content

(Part 1) (Part 2) Part 3 under the cut.

Clarke sat on the couch with her head in her hands. She'd long since lost track of time, only knowing it had been dark outside for a long while. It'd been too easy to get lost in thought, and while she generally tried not to let her masochistic streak take over, she felt it was well deserved given the circumstances.

Hell, if only just the past year. She'd nearly killed Anya at the last major gathering, and certainly took her out of commission for a week or two. She'd heard from Lexa about Anya's recovery from her poison. Anya had only fully got back to a hundred percent just recently. If it wasn't for the fact that her abilities were so rare and valued by the coven, she definitely would have been exiled for her actions against Anya.

Anya had been taken to trial over her womanhood of all damn things, and villainized by the coven over the resulting schism in the membership and council, and yet she poisoned Anya at a major gathering without consequence. The thought of her having held a vendetta against Anya due to a need for justice seemed absurd now, given Anya was the one deserving of it, from the coven and from her.

I poisoned her, I almost killed her. I did that to her...I did that, and I slept like a baby...what kind of monster am I? Clarke wondered, roughly wiping at her eyes with the joint of her thumb. What the hell have I become?

Clarke wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that question.

She'd rushed out of Anya's room hours ago to leave Anya to rest up, reaching the front door just as the other woman's muffled screams reached her ears. She'd made for the outdoors, but the front door wouldn't budge, neither would the windows, or the second bedroom. They were still trapped, and it was like she could smell the death and decay around her from all the ways she'd hurt and nearly killed Anya in the past ten months, all the ways she'd promoted the woman's post-vote social isolation as some sick, twisted form of payback for what she thought Anya had done. She'd been so caught up in vengeance and her grudge that she hadn't clued in that maybe all wasn't as it seemed.

And now there they were, both having paid someone else's price many times over, both trapped together still, and both in recovery, if differently.

She wouldn't cry, couldn't cry, not when Anya was suffering one room over. Not when she'd just been brutalizing a weakened, defenseless version of the woman not long ago. Her stomach was rumbling but she couldn't handle eating any more of the pizza Anya made. Just knowing she'd feasted on it, and left Anya heaped on the ground for hours, when the woman had probably been hungry to start with, it all made Clarke feel sick to her stomach.

She wasn't raised to be cruel. She needed to do better, be better. If Anya had faith that she could, then she had to at least try.

"Anya must be so hungry and sore. I...I can help with both." Clarke muttered to herself as she got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She turned the oven on and got to making a smoothie, figuring the woman could use as much food and nutrients as she could handle.

It wasn't long before she had a nice cool protein smoothie and a bit of reheated pizza in her arms. Her heart quivered in her chest at the knowledge of who was on the other side of the bedroom door, the evidence of what she'd done waiting on the bed, but she pushed past it. Anya deserved better.

Clarke opened the bedroom door and stilled in the doorframe, eyes poring over the scene carefully, not wanting to disrupt the woman if she was sleeping. That question was answered in a moment when Anya reached up a hand, wiped at her face, and carefully sat up against the headboard. "Do I smell food?"

She let out a sigh of relief at being able to put her plan in motion and quickly made her way to bed, hesitating for a moment before taking a seat beside her fellow prisoner. Anya looked to be in better shape, her healing draught seeming to have gotten to work as usual. It was how wet Anya's face was that worried her, knowing it was too cold, and Anya wouldn't be running a fever, so it couldn't be sweat.

"Absolutely. I'm so sorry for depriving you all this time. My head's been scrambled, but it's no excuse. You must be so hungry!" Clarke let out, earning a small nod as those warm brown eyes stared hungrily at the pizza.

She offered the plate out, and Anya quickly set it on her lap and picked up a gooey slice, lifting it to her nose. "Mmmmn, delicious." The woman practically purred before taking a bite of it.

Clarke found herself in the confusing and curious position of feeling blood rush to her cheeks, feeling more and more inconspicuously out of sorts with every delighted moan escaping the woman beside her. If only I could make her that happy... She found herself musing before shutting that thought process down. It wasn't appropriate.

It was an odd sight, though, watching Anya devour three of her pizza bowl slices and then demolish a smoothie, but the look of contentment that spread on Anya's face upon finishing was more than enough to put a smile on Clarke's.

"So I was thinking, your stomach and ribs must still be sore, and while the healing draught's still working away, I don't want you uncomfortable. Should I put together a hot water bottle for you?" She asked, hoping she wasn't rambling or making a ridiculous suggestion.

Thankfully, Anya just gave a small nod, prompting Clarke to hop from the bed and rush out to the kitchen to boil some water. As she waited for the water to cool enough to be poured into the bottle, Clarke found herself thinking back to that night ten months ago.

She'd been so cold and scared, and had been especially mortified when she'd woken up in the middle of the night, but Anya held her. Anya walked her through it, and made sure everything was in order. Anya had comforted her for no reason other than she wanted Clarke to be comforted.

In retrospect, that wasn't the kind of person who could have struck out at her like that, but she'd been naive, easy to manipulate. She was older now, she knew better now. And she had a feeling that together, she and Anya would find who hurt them, who set them against each other, and would make them pay.

But for now, she wanted Anya to feel the way she had back then. So when she returned to the bedroom with the hot water bottle, she couldn't quite will herself to leave. And when Anya turned onto her side, away from Clarke, and slipped a hand under the pillow, she saw an opportunity.

"I can hold it against you, if you want. That way, you can get some rest." Clarke mused openly, watching the other woman for the slightest of movements that might declare her presence unwanted. The heavy sigh that escaped Anya almost had her slipping from the bed, but then Anya's other hand took hold of the covers and pulled them up to her shoulders, holding them there, leaving the hot water bottle unattended.

A silent acceptance of her plan.

Clarke thought she'd feel relieved, but she only felt anxious as she slipped under the covers and gently reached her arms around Anya's waist, carefully holding the hot water bottle in place and hugging it against Anya's abdomen. In essence, she was mirroring Anya's position from all those months ago, but it wasn't until Anya scooted ever so slightly backwards into her body that she felt any serenity about it.

Almost a year. Ten lost months where they could have been this close the whole time. Ten months of lost friendship, of suffering, of so many missed opportunities and experiences.

Clarke closed her eyes and pressed her face into the back of Anya's neck, her arms holding the woman a little more snugly. She had a lot to make up for, but for the moment, she felt she was right where she needed to be.

Everything felt hazy and weightless as she regained consciousness after her lengthy second bout of sleep. Honestly, she was almost entirely pain-free, her shoulder feeling fine instead of the fractured mess Clarke had made of it not a day ago.

The sun was setting, meaning it was getting close to twenty four hours since they'd arrived. It'd been a long ass day, but at least there was a silver lining. And that was wrapped around her waist and a long cooled off hot water bottle.

It was a bit of a one-way situation, if she were honest with herself. She knew the disgust Clarke felt for her. It was the one thing keeping her from tossing the hot water bottle out of the way and bringing those soft hands to her waist where a guilty part of her might want them, knowing Clarke introduced that barrier for a specific reason.

She couldn't afford to be selfish when she still had yet to salvage a working relationship with the other woman. After all, they'd have to work together to weed out those who had set them against each other. That meant some level of amicability between them, which despite all the miscommunication, pain, and grave errors in understanding they'd made, Anya was sure could be an obstacle.

Again, Clarke made no secret in the past how her mere presence would ruin the other blonde's day. Anya had witnessed plenty of times the pure disgust flashing across Clarke's face upon seeing her, before the woman could school her features. Anya would accept the minimal comfort Clarke offered and would leave it at that.

But goddess, if she didn't want to just be wrapped up. With all that she'd learned, all the hardships she'd endured, and perhaps aided by her rather simple personal code of morals and ethics, tentative forgiveness had dropped away much of the deep seated feelings of pain and loss. It left her feeling like she had earlier that year in February, yearning for Clarke to smile at her, and yearning to be close to her. They couldn't turn back the clock, but she could try to get back to something close to where they'd been back then.

Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was twisted given their history and Clarke's violence, but Clarke apologized and showed real remorse. Clarke had been manipulated into being wielded against her. Clarke understood what she did was wrong and wanted to be better. That had resulted in the woman doing what she could to comfort and heal Anya to the best of her abilities, and that was a good first step. That had to count for something with how they both needed to move on from that painful chapter of their lives. And while it was unrealistic to expect things to ramp up to something unexpected, Anya couldn't help how she felt, how her memories of her early-mid teen years kept being drawn to the surface now that she didn’t have the spectre of Clarke’s hostility hanging over her anymore.

It was embarrassing. She was a warrior in their coven. She was the sword the council wielded when they wanted something to burn or bleed, but all she wanted in that moment was for Clarke to hold her close and tell her she'd never be hurt again, that it'd all be okay.

It was absurd, but it was what it was. Anya could deny a lot in life, but she knew her heart, and she knew it well. No point pretending she didn't still feel something for Clarke underneath it all.

Didn't change that she couldn't do anything about it, and that she had the willpower to keep to that resolution. At least barring any unforeseen changes.

Though, when Clarke let out a sleepy, annoyed grunt and pushed the water bottle away, Anya might have been frustrated that her will was being tested so soon. And when Clarke's arms settled all cozy and snug against her waist, all she could do was decide that she'd remain very still and quiet, and let Clarke figure out what to do when she woke.

And, well, Clarke deserved a good bit of rest after everything, too. Mental and emotional trauma needed recuperation as well as anything else.

It was maybe forty-five minutes later when Clarke let out a sleepy groan, which combined with the way the other blonde was nuzzling the back of her neck had her thinking she was waking up. Clarke only needed a few extra seconds to confirm it herself.

"Mmmghhn, what time is it?" Clarke mumbled as arms tightened around Anya's waist, nose trailing a brief path down to the crook of her neck.

"Doesn't matter. Go back to sleep if you're tired." She answered quietly, knowing she could stay where she was indefinitely, even if she could probably make good use of the bathroom.

Clarke's arms detached from her immediately, and the warmth of Clarke's body was gone in half a second, the other blonde scurrying away to the other side of the bed in a panic. Well, I guess that confirms she's still disgusted with me...

"You're not in pain, are you?" Clarke asked, thankfully bringing up a topic she could easily go on about if needed.

"Only slight aches now. Whatever that potion was, it's done wonders." Anya relayed, pulling the covers up over her body from where they'd fallen away. It was winter and, wards or not, the cottage was chilly. She didn't exactly have magic to keep her warm.

"That...that's good. Very good. Are you hungry?" Clarke asked, seeming abnormally scattered. She didn't have to put much thought into it, though, since the sound of Clarke's stomach rumbling was sign enough that one of them was.

"Not really, but you are." She said as she reluctantly got out of bed. "I'll wash up then make something to eat."

Clarke let out a loud huff. "You should be resting!"

"And you should be sleeping still, but I guess it's not in the cards, either." Anya called over her shoulder. By the time she finished in the washroom, Clarke still hadn't left the bedroom, which gave her plenty of space to figure out something to eat.

While she hadn't been Clarke's friend these past years, she did end up getting to know a number of things about the woman through Lexa and the time they were forced to spend near each other at events. Clarke had a deep love for gumbo, the spicier the better, but Anya didn't have the time or ingredients to make it, as she checked around. There was enough for her to make pizza about seven or eight times over, but not so much with gumbo.

But she did know Clarke was a fan of chicken and spicy things, so she went about collecting ingredients for an old southwest wrap recipe she used to make when she had a busier schedule and less time to cook. She wasn't big on spicy stuff after just waking up, so maybe she used an extra pan for her own recipe, but it was worth it.

"What smells heavenly?" She heard from the direction of the bathroom just around when she was finishing up with the wraps, filling Clarke's with some extra chicken before folding the ends.

"Food's up. Chicken wraps." Anya answered, plating both of theirs before taking hers to the living room couch. Mostly because there was a cozy blanket there, and a fireplace nearby if she chose to use it.

She was just getting comfortable under the large blanket when a freshly showered Clarke rounded the couch, plate in hand, and scooted in beside her. Sure, the blanket was large enough to cover the both of them, but Anya could hardly keep from pressing against the armrest, wanting to ensure Clarke had all the space she needed.

Anya could feel Clarke's eyes on her as they ate in silence, leaving her completely unsure what was coming next. She'd slept, gone to the washroom, and will have eaten. Nothing to excuse her from Clarke's presence that would likely come across as polite.

"Are you scared of me?" Anya found herself choking on her wrap once she processed Clarke's words, needing a moment to steady herself and take a drink of water before she could even consider a reply.

"No." It was the truth, though after a quick glance, she could tell Clarke wasn't so convinced.

"Then why did you move away from me? And you couldn't get out of the bedroom fast enough, and when I came into the kitchen to get food, you practically rushed to the couch. Like, I'd get it if you are, obviously, and it wouldn't be my place to tell you not to be." Clarke detailed, and okay, perhaps that interpretation made a bit more sense, but it wasn't fear driving it. Just a sense of self-preservation and not wanting to have any more of her ego destroyed.

"I'm not scared. I trust you when you say you won't willingly hurt me. I'm merely giving you your space, Clarke. You've made no secret in the past about not wanting to be near me." She explained at length, hoping to just finish the subject and move on to something else or maybe even a comfortable silence.

"But that was when I thought you nearly ruined my life, and were out to get me." Clarke noted, not really addressing the point at hand.

"Regardless, it still leaves all of that clear...disgust...you have for me. Just because I didn't do what you thought I did doesn't erase that gut instinct. I understood why you used the hot water bottle as a barrier, Clarke. I understood, and I appreciated what you did for me, but you don't have to pretend. I'd honestly prefer you don't." Anya rambled as she curled up further into the corner of the couch, wishing she could light a flame from a distance and get a fire going. There was rarely anything better than a warm fire on a cold night.

After a second or two of silence, she dared a glance back at Clarke, catching the other woman gaping at her, appearing entirely astonished for whatever reason. After all, it wasn't as if Clarke kept her emotions hidden.

She'd just turned away when she felt Clarke's hand lightly grasp her shoulder. Anya kept her gaze forward. "Anya, I've...goddess, I've never been disgusted by you. Take your pick from hate, loathe, whatever, but...not that."

"I know what I've seen, Clarke. You don't have to pretend we're working with clean slates in every area when we're not." Anya pushed, needing to have this topic of discussion done and over with. With the way her heart was thudding in her chest from just having Clarke's hand resting against her, she needed to avoid getting any hopes up.

"No, you don't...urgh!" Clarke blurted out, following her attempt at a denial with a long, drawn out groan. "Look, it's really embarrassing, but yeah, I was disgusted. With myself."

Anya's head swiveled unbidden to face the other woman, more out of confusion than anything else. "How does that make any sense?"

"I'd see you, and sometimes it wouldn't register that it was you initially, but then I'd recognize you, and I'd just...I'd disgust myself with how I reacted to seeing you. It wasn't right reacting to my enemy like that, someone who I thought hurt me so much. I figured I shouldn't have felt what I did, but I did, and I hated that. It disgusted me that as much as I hated you, it could never kill the part of me that thought you were..." Clarke rambled, voice trailing off as she stared at her hands, shaking them in the air and biting her lip in clear frustration for whatever word she couldn't seem to speak.

Still, Clarke had opened the door, broken the dam, whatever. She needed to know. "Thought I was what?"

Clarke's blue eyes flitted her way, a defeated sigh escaping her as her cheeks bloomed red. "Ithoughtyouweregorgeous." The woman spoke quickly and quietly, syllables mashed together in a near incomprehensible mess of sound.

It took a few seconds for Anya to make sense of it, but when it clicked, she was fairly certain her cheeks were equally as flushed. "Oh." She added, needing to give some response despite her confusion, seeing Clarke's nerves escalate visibly.

Honestly, it was hard to fathom that all that time, Clarke had been disgusted at feeling attraction towards her. It potentially made a small amount of sense, even if it took some mental gymnastics, but her shy eyes and anxious posture had Anya thinking Clarke was about a second away from imploding from a deadly mix of mortification and rejection, so she couldn't deny it might be the truth.

And honestly, with the truth thrown her way, especially given Clarke didn't have to disclose it, Anya felt a need to balance the scales. "I had the biggest crush on you, growing up." She continued, immediately feeling the intense heat of Clarke's gaze on her as she kept her focus on the fireplace. Anya wasn't sure she could speak the words face to face, but she could at least air them out. "Goddess, I tried to convince myself back then that it was a small thing, but my eyes would always look for you at the events for initiates. And when I was back home...I was a shit drawer, but when I'd sketch, I'd almost always end up doing your eyes. Never felt anyone really saw me, and I guess I just liked imagining...yeah."

Anya shook her head at the memories, at the sheer amount of paper she'd covered, crumpled up, and tossed out in her teens. She'd been the most embarrassing kid.

"Was...was that why you had me share your blankets that night?" Clarke asked hesitantly, the hand returning to Anya's shoulder and giving it a slight rub. It was nice.

"Of course not. You were freezing, you needed to be warm. Besides, I remember thinking you were dating someone back then, so my focus was just on keeping you warm, and maybe if I was lucky, we could end the weekend as friends. And then it turned into just wanting you to know I had your back, that you could trust me, that you were safe." Anya explained, putting to words her generally simple evolving plans that night, in case Clarke had any misunderstanding over her reasons. Sure, helping the pretty girl and maybe having a future shot at a relationship if everything went right and Clarke turned out not to be straight was something she'd considered back then, but she had known full well it was a pipe dream.

Anya was far more practical than that.

Clarke moved off the couch, gathering both of their plates and setting them on the coffee table before heading to the fireplace. Anya watched at the other blonde struggled a bit with the equipment stocked there, unable to hold back a smile at Clarke's unfamiliarity, but there was a fire going after a minute or two. Perhaps it was unsurprising that Clarke was thinking much the same thing as she had, given the temperature, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

It was Clarke slipping under the blanket and cuddling up beside her that had Anya feeling a little faint. "I guess it's my turn to return the favor and keep you warm, then." Clarke whispered as soft arms wrapped around Anya's nearest.

Anya wasn't sure what Clarke's angle was, and that was dangerous, but she couldn't bring herself to care when Clarke was warm, and soft, and smelled kind of wonderful.

"Sounds fair to me."

Clarke was a little proud of herself.

Between waking up clinging to Anya's wounded body, learning Anya thought she was disgusted of her, and learning Anya once had a deep crush on her, Clarke could say she'd been reeling for most of the past hour or so.

And yet, she hadn't lost it. Neither had she ran, or fucked up. Instead, she'd pushed forward, clarified problems, and worked to resolve them. In short, when it came to the prospects of leaving the cottage happy and with a new connection, there was hope for her yet.

The fact that Anya was much more relaxed was also riveting. It'd been ten months since she'd seen the woman with anything remotely resembling happiness or peacefulness across her face, and it was a damn beautiful sight. Not one she deserved, but one she would try to maintain for as long as possible.

"So, maybe you'll have to show me some of your sketches some day, see how they match up to the real thing." Clarke mused, breaking a comfortable silence in hopes of some stimulating dialogue.

The sound that escaped Anya was magical. Not since her childhood had she heard Anya laugh, and it sounded like the heavens opening up, but it was the gleeful, surprised smile that had Clarke utterly mesmerized. Maybe her crush had been deeper than she thought as well, because in that moment, all she wanted to do was keep Anya smiling as often as possible, for as long as possible, with some more laughter if she was lucky.

"Clarke, I told you, I'm shit at drawing. Nowhere near as talented as you on that front. Now, sculptures...that's different, but I was always terrible at sketching, even if I loved trying to replicate the blue of your eyes with my shitty pencil crayons. I was such a dork." Anya said, that smile dimming a little as she bit her lip and cast her gaze at the fire.

It was official: nervous Anya was endearing. It didn't hurt that the woman complimented her, either. It wasn't often anyone praised her art.

"More like adorkable. But I'd really like to see some of your scuptures if you'll let me. I'm sure they're great." Clarke probed, hoping for some affirmation, wanting a sign that maybe she and Anya were on the same page. Besides, Anya wielded the full power of the elements; she could only imagine the kind of nuanced control that could give a sculptor.

Anya let out another melodic laugh, and Clarke had to keep from sagging against her over the sweetness of the sound. "I think we could work out a time for you to come by." Anya added with a smile that was endearingly shy, and god, where was this woman all these years? "If we ever get out of this place, that is."

"Bathroom window was still warded. Guess there's still some condition for us to work through." Clarke noted with a roll of her eyes.

"Goddess, whatever Lexa and Costia concocted, I'm thankful, but they're gonna have some explaining to do when we get out of here." Anya agreed with a slow nod.

Anya's words stilled the thoughts in Clarke's mind, all of her brainpower focusing on a certain t-word. "What?! You're thankful? Even after everything?"

Anya turned her head and shot her the kind of smile you give when someone just asked a stupid question. The low, amused laugh made her inquiry even more worth it. "Especially after everything. I lost ten months of my life, Clarke, on top of so much more. I don't want to waste another second."

Clarke was sure her heart stopped for how silent everything went. Her mind was racing, working furiously determine if that was a sign, if it was an in, if it was a green light for her to test out something she'd been thinking about, to take the opportunity put out before her.

It was when her vision focused enough to see that same soft, warm expression on Anya's face as that night in the hotel that Clarke knew what she had to do.

Clarke flung herself onto Anya, hands lifting to cradle Anya's face as she pressed their lips together. For a split second, Clarke felt a debilitating spike of fear with Anya remaining still against her own. Then the heavens opened up alongside those supple lips, Anya grabbing at Clarke's top and pulling her down against her fellow witch's gloriously limber body.

In all her life she couldn't have imagined Anya would be so receptive. It was like playing a really arousing game of call and response; everything Clarke did, every kiss, every time she nibbled at the woman's lower lip, each time she rocked into her, each time she stroked her cheek, Anya would respond in kind with something of her own. Clarke knew what she was good at, and she wanted to give Anya the best she could offer, but Anya was clearly just as busy trying to learn what Clarke liked.

Her heart melted that much more, adoring that dedication.

And when her hips rocked into Anya, bringing an airy gasp from the woman beneath her, maybe Clarke decided to shift her focus on filling the room with more of those sounds. Anya only made it easier, head shifting to nuzzle Clarke's temple, lips a breath away from her ear, close enough to hear every gasp, hitched breath, moan, and whimper she could elicit. That combined with Anya running hands through her hair, nails down her back, palming at her ass, legs writhing against her own, body trembling and arching into Clarke's?

All she wanted was more, more, more of the intoxicating woman beneath her, and Anya was eager to give.

So when one of Anya's hands put a little space between them, Clarke wasn't discouraged, knowing whatever it was, it was important.

"I have some things I need...in my luggage...and I need a quick shower, and...and then can we take this to the bed where it's comfier?" Anya asked as she caught her breath. Honestly, the question was a bit out of the blue, but Clarke was all too happy to help out, even if it might mean waiting a few minutes.

"Sure thing, babe. Anything you need me to do?" Clarke asked, leaning back and letting Anya amble out from underneath her, head shaking lightly.

She took a moment to catch her breath and stared after Anya as the woman grabbed a set of luggage by the wall and hauled it into the bathroom. Honestly, it all felt fast, switching gears like they were, but the fact was that she spent about a full year with Anya as her sworn enemy and a primary focus for her attention. She probably knew Anya almost as well as Anya knew herself, and vice versa.

They'd shared an intense connection since that night; perhaps it wasn't such a massive switch going from enemies to intimate. And finally being able to act on the physical attraction she'd harbored for years, on top of the emotional attraction to Anya and her softer side? Even if Clarke wasn't sure that part of the woman wouldn't disappear in a flash, never to be seen again?

She wasn't letting go of this, at least not easily.

Clarke made her way to the bedroom and hoped that Lexa still kept her stash where she remembered it.

#witchfic #lookingforthemagic #clanya #clanya fanfiction

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