**Torture and Devotion**

Chapter 1: The Grounder's Captive The desolate landscape of the forest was replaced by the eerie silence of the Grounder's camp. Clarke Griffin, the determined and fierce leader of the Sky People, was dragged through the dirt, her wrists and ankles bound by rough rope. She had been captured days ago, and her captors had been relentless in their pursuit of information. Lexa, the leader of the Grounders, stood tall, her piercing gaze fixed on Clarke as she was thrown into a makeshift cell. Lexa's orders were clear: get the information out of Clarke, no matter the cost. But as Clarke looked up at Lexa with a mixture of defiance and fear, she saw something that gave her pause. Lexa's eyes seemed to gleam with a hint of curiosity, a spark that would drive Clarke to wonder if there was more to this Grounder leader than met the eye. The days blurred together in a haze of pain and suffering. Clarke was subjected to unspeakable torture at the hands of Lexa's people. Her fingernails were ripped out, her skin cut and burned, and her body starved of sustenance. But no matter what they did to her, Clarke refused to give in. She spat at them, cursed them, and looked at them with pure disdain. Lexa watched from a distance, her expression unreadable. She would occasionally step in to ensure Clarke's safety, but her methods were unorthodox, to say the least. Lexa would have her people torture Clarke, but only to a certain extent. She seemed to take pleasure in Clarke's pain, but not in a sadistic way. It was almost as if she wanted Clarke to suffer, but not to break. One day, Lexa approached Clarke, who was lying on the ground, her body battered and bruised. Lexa gently lifted Clarke's hand, examining the fingernails that had been ripped out. She cleaned them with a cloth, a tender gesture that belied the brutality of the situation. "Why do you want to know so much about us?" Clarke spat at Lexa. Lexa didn't respond. Instead, she gave Clarke food, a rare gesture of kindness in the midst of torture. Clarke devoured it, her stomach growling with hunger. As the days turned into weeks, Clarke began to notice a change in Lexa's behavior. The Grounder leader would often visit her, talking to her in a low, soothing voice. Lexa would clean her wounds, feed her, and even put her arm in a makeshift brace after it had been broken. Their interactions became more frequent, and Clarke found herself looking forward to Lexa's visits. The Grounder leader would sit beside her, stroking her hair or gently holding her hand. "You're different," Clarke observed one day, as Lexa tended to her wounds. "Different?" Lexa repeated, her eyes narrowing. "You don't...you don't seem to enjoy our pain," Clarke said, her voice barely above a whisper. Lexa's expression was enigmatic. "I'm just trying to understand you." One evening, as Lexa entered Clarke's cell, she found the younger woman sitting on the ground, her eyes fixed on Lexa. "I love you, Lexa," Clarke said suddenly, her voice cracking with emotion. "But if I'm going to be tortured, could you at least have the decency to do it yourself? Not those...those men." Lexa's gaze locked onto Clarke's, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. "Why?" she asked, her voice low. "Because it's better coming from you," Clarke replied, her voice steady. "You're the one who cares, I think. Not like they do." Lexa's eyes lingered on Clarke's, and then she stood, pulling out a knife. "Let's try this again," she said, a sly smile spreading across her face. Clarke winced as Lexa made a few precise cuts into her stomach, but it was nothing compared to what she had endured at the hands of others. Lexa worked quickly, her movements economical, and Clarke knew that she had made a bargain with the devil. As Lexa finished and Clarke lay there, panting, the Grounder leader began to clean her up, a gesture that had become all too familiar. "You know," Clarke said, her voice husky, "I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'd rather you did it yourself." Lexa's gaze locked onto Clarke's, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes. "I think I can arrange that," she said, her voice dripping with promise. From that day on, Clarke was subjected to Lexa's brand of torture, but it was different. Lexa would talk to her, ask her questions, and Clarke would smile, even as she bled. The Grounder leader would visit her at night, holding her close as they cuddled in Lexa's bed, surrounded by soft blankets and warm beans that Lexa would often spread around Clarke to keep her warm. It was a twisted game they played, one of pain and affection, but Clarke found herself drawn to Lexa in ways she never thought possible. One night, as they lay together in Lexa's bed, Clarke turned to her and whispered, "You know, I think it's time I told you what you want to know." Lexa's eyes flickered open, interest sparking within them. "What is it that you want to know?" Clarke asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Lexa sat back, her expression expectant. "Tell me about the Sky People," she said, her voice low and husky. "Tell me about their plans, their numbers...everything." Clarke took a deep breath, the weight of her secrets shifting. She looked up at Lexa, and for the first time, she saw an opportunity to use her captor's affection against her. "The Sky People," Clarke began, her voice steady, "they're planning to head to Polis. They think it's the only way to survive." Lexa's eyes locked onto Clarke's, a hungry gleam within them. "Go on," she coaxed. And Clarke told her everything.