Chapter Text
It wasn’t the first time she woke in cold sweat, her breath rapid and shallow and her eyes sensitive to light. What she went through; what she did; it stayed with her, it always will.
Their faces, their names, their corpses. Her . Her face. Her voice. Her smell. Her betrayal. Her penance. Her smile. Her words. Her love. Her last breath . Her corpse . Her neck split into two, blood black as the night bubbling up to the surface as the tiny crystal chip rose from the cut, thin wires climbing up the still spine, unmoving, indiscernible under the soft skin of Her back.
This time though, it was different. The air no longer smelled of rain and smoke, it was metallic and stuffed, as it was back on the Ark. At first, she thought it was only in her mind, she hasn’t been to what was left of the Ark, in her people's’ camp, in months, and she no longer saw it as her home. She was her home. She no longer had a home. Then the hum, the never ending, always present, machine hum, that Clarke knew was present only when the Ark was still in space, she could hear it. When she opened her eyes though, she realised that her senses were telling the truth. She was on the Ark. In one moment, her entire body tensed. She started to take notice of everything around her, she was in her old room, in her parents quarters, she sat up on the edge of her bed, waiting for her vision to stop spinning. When it did, she stood up, walking slowly, not yet fully trusting her feet to carry her weight. She stood in front of her closet mirror. In front of her stood a stranger. No lines, no scars, her face smooth and oh so very young. She looked carefully, she didn’t look like herself, not anymore. She was younger, not by much, but enough that there was a height difference. She was no older than 15, she remembers as in that year she did most of her growing, but now, she was so small, almost a foot less than she was last night, when she went to sleep, in her chambers, on Earth.
“Clarke, sweetie. it’s time to get up, we need to be in the MedBay in 30 minutes.”
Her mother’s voice was so clear, unbothered, the world has yet to fall around her, but Clarke was not spared the same fate.
Her door opened just as she was taking her shirt off, her time on Earth had made her used to no privacy, she didn’t stop removing her shirt, but as she heard one of the two voices she missed most, apologizing for bothering her, she froze.
“I’ll come back when you’re done, Clarke. Good morning.” Her father was retreating from her room so quickly she thought she was dreaming again, it wasn’t possible her father was that fast. The lack of scars on her upper torso, told of a different story.
Was her entire time on the ground a dream? was she sick? She felt her forehead, she wasn’t warm, she looked at the mirror, she looked well enough, a little pale, but she was pale most days on the Ark, most people were.
Thoughts running through her mind, she hurried to dress, the ratty fabric feeling odd on her skin after months of wearing new cotton, wool and leather on Earth. Her breath laboring once again as she realises she can no longer remember how long it was since she saw her father last, and suddenly, he’s alive, and tears are falling from her eyes. So was Her. Worlds away.
“Clarke? Coming?” Her mother’s voice alerted her to her time alone running out, she wiped her tears and left her room.
“Why are you crying?” It seemed that her mother was observant as always, noticing her daughter’s tear stained cheeks.
“It’s nothing, Mom, I hit my foot on the dresser.” Abby nodded understandably, she had no reason to suspect otherwise. Clarke was a happy child, no weight on her shoulders and a secure future.
The two made their way to MedBay, Jackson’s familiar face greeting them as they enter.
“Good morning Abby, Clarke.”
“Morning Jackson.” Abby smiles at her former apprentice. Clarke nods slightly as a greeting, her eyes already taking in the partially filled MedBay, vowing to take her studies more seriously this time around, not that she was a careless student before, but she believed she had time. Now she knows, she had a year at most, before her father finds the failure in the Ark’s Oxygen retaining system, and for her to be imprisoned in solitary, as a traitor.
The day went on, Abby and Jackson continued to teach Clarke as they did before, though surprised at her newfound enthusiasm for learning their trade. For Clarke, as the day went on, it became a nightmare. She never realised before just how much the air on the Ark was recycled, just how much of it was actually Oxygen, after a couple of hours she already felt the difference, her lungs seemed to work over-time, and she was lightheaded when she turned her head too quickly. It was hard and painful, but it was proof, proof she wasn’t dreaming and that she really did spend the last few months on Earth, breathing it’s fresh air and eating from the land. Clarke wondered if her lungs burned, was it possible that her muscles remember her training as a warrior? heda ’s Royal Guard took it as a challenge to turn wanheda from the legend she was to the warrior she should have been. At first it had to be a secret, Titus did not trust Clarke and kept a mindful eye on every step she took in Polis, but as time went on, he realised that she was not going to leave, and wasting his resources on watching her was starting to impend on his regular practice of relaying a network of spies for heda ’s use, thus he let it go. What he did not realise, was that his heda , as he liked to boast, knew everything that happened in Polis, and had her own band of informants. She was already aware of Clarke’s training, and the moment Titus’ back was turned and his many eyes looking elsewhere, she herself, along with the occasional visit from the Azgeda king himself, took a part in Clarke’s physical, and political training. But it all came to an end, when Titus saw a chance to end Clarke’s life, but killed his heda instead.
Clarke left Polis that night, the night of Her death, with Murphy by her side, but not before she found Titus and the Conclave. They have just begun as she found them, the children all standing still, looking at each other with dreadful eyes, coloured with respect. Ontari was there as well. Standing tall and strong, but it was Aden that Clarke watched closely, he was Her favorite. Now that she knew what it truly meant to be Heda, she knew, he was Her favorite for a reason, She knew , She knew he would be the one to do best should he succeed Her . Clarke sent Murphy ahead,, aware that what she was about to do may put an end to her life, but she did not care. She , her reason to live, to fight, was no longer among the living. If there was one thing she was told by those heavenly lips, that she never forgot, even when rage and betrayal blinded her.
“The dead are gone, Klark, and the living are hungry.”
Her life no longer her own, armed with the knowledge of the true spirit of The Commander, Clarke made her way to Titus, quietly, holding the tip of her dagger to his throat, she felt him still as his pulse began to race.
“You have yet to pay for the death you have dealt. Flemkipa ”
“You do not know what you are doing, skaigada , let me go.” Titus’ calm words angered Clarke and so she pressed the sharp tip farther into soft, pliant flesh.
“I will. Once I have what I came for.” her free hand pulled Titus outer robe and snuck into the side pouch she knew was there, taking out the small, red pack, while simultaneously hitting Titus on the back of his neck with her dagger’s hilt, hitting right where the Vagus nerve should be, incapacitating the man for some time.
The Nightbloods watched on, tiny bodies tense with the call for war and blood, to protect their teacher and each other from the one they believed before would not harm them.
“Aden” Clarke called the young warrior, he was tense as he answered her call, but not as much as the others, as if sensing she means no harm to the Nightbloods.
“ wanheda ” his head dips in respect for who, he alone out of the Nightbloods, knew, was his commander’s beloved.
“You were her favorite for a reason.” Aden furrows his brow, this was the first time he hears those words, but he knows them to be true. heda was always pushing him harder, willing to give more of her precious time for him.
Clarke steps closer to the small blonde boy, her voice strong as she informs those present of the future of this conclave.
“There won’t be a conclave tonight. heda has chosen, before her death. And I am here to fulfill her wishes.” as Clarke comes closer to Aden, the other Nightbloods are raging, it was their right to fight for the title of heda . But Clarke did not care, she knew that Her wish was that her legacy would be peace, and not war. This was the reason Clarke was there to make sure peace would follow, even at the expense of her own life.
Clarke opens the red pack, turning Aden by his small shoulders, his neck exposed and blemishless, that was about to change.
“This will hurt. Ascendo Superiores ” was the only warning Clarke gave the boy before she cut into the back of his neck, one tiny cut, but deep enough. She pressed the small crystal chip into the blackened slit, and watched as the thin wires sprung to life and made their way into the wound and into the spine of the living child.
It took a few seconds before Aden moved again, in that time, Clarke heated the tip of her dagger and closed the wound in the boy’s neck, Aden was still and soundless as she pressed the red hot blade to his skin, tears of despair and acceptance running down her cheeks as she accepted the reality of the death of her beloved.
When Aden turned to look at her, she saw a familiar fire burning in his pale blue eyes, her sobs turning from soundless to soul-tearing loud at his next words.
“ ai laik aiden kom azgeda. ai laik heda. ” and as he spoke, reassuring her with his eyes, Clarke felt what she expected since the moment she decided to do what she had just done. Titus’ dagger, slipping deeper and deeper into her flesh, beyond the ribs of her back, into her lungs, and finally, into her heart.
With her last breath she saw Aden tearing, his spirit recognizing her as a part of him, as he called, voice bubbling with rage at her end.
“ yu gonplei ste odon ”