Hey guys, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction so please be nice. This is a femslash story so if you don't like that then don't read, it's pretty simple. I take no credit for the characters used in the show nor the parts of the story line that you will read in my version. I simply am taking the wonderful world of The 100 and playing with it. Don't be afraid to leave comments or follow the story if you like it. I will try to update as frequently as I can.
The air was thick with an iron tinge, blood seeping into the ground reminiscent of water. The dark stains that would remain would be a reminder that the lives of many were drained into this very earth not long ago. It was here that Clarke stood now, the sting of betrayal still fresh beneath her skin.
Clarke was haunted by those memories, the sound of the Commander's firm yet somehow simultaneously gentle voice telling her "May we meet again" still ringing in her ears. It was her fault. Clarke had to pull that lever because of her. If only she had remained and fought as they had planned, perhaps then the innocent children, the innocent people of Mount Weather would not be dead, dead by Clarke's hand.
Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of the inevitable flood of memories that would cause her insides to clench and attempt to empty even though there was nothing left to purge from her body. She couldn't forget the deep forest green eyes that met hers with sorrow and pain that night. The eyes that begged her to understand while simultaneously walking away. Clarke knew why Lexa had made the decisions she did. Clarke understood that success comes on the back of sacrifice. And deep down, Clarke knew that she would have done the exact same thing had she been put in Lexa's position. Still, her lips tingled with longing while her heart steeled itself after betrayal.
The sound of a twig cracking behind her alerted Clarke to the presence of someone uninvited to her moment, an intruder. Immediately Clarke whirled around only to met with the same endless shade of green that she had come to both love and loathe.
"Clarke." The simple greeting was met with cold blue eyes and rigid body. Clarke's hand rested on the handle of her gun, part of her begging to make the Commander pay for what she did mere nights ago.
"Go," was Clarke's response, gritted out through a clenched jaw.
Lexa's eyes, already flashing a myriad of emotions, expressed pain upon hearing that one word. Just as soon as Clarke registered the emotion filled eyes of the woman standing before her, they were gone, replaced by the hardened gaze of the Commander.
"I do not need to explain the reasons for my actions Clarke. You understand better than most why I did what I did. I could not sit idly by while my people were dying. I had the chance to save all of my people from further injury and death and I did so. It was not personal Clarke, I simply made the decision with my head and not my heart." Lexa took a deep breath, the forest trapped in her eyes boring into the ocean trapped in Clarke's.
"You left us to die Lexa. You betrayed us, you betrayed me. If you had stayed behind I wouldn't have had to do what I did. I killed them Lexa, all of them. You sacrificed us to save yourself Lexa, just like a coward." Clarke abruptly stopped as the Commander crossed the space between them in seconds, stepping straight in front of Clarke and moving her face so close that Clarke could feel the warmth of her breath on her skin.
"I am not a coward Clarke," Lexa growled out. "I watched my men get massacred out there. It was not your people that fell trying to get that door open Clarke it was mine. My people. You may call me a traitor all you want but I was there to get my people out alive. Tell me Clarke, how many men has the mountain taken from you? How many of your people had to kill their own brothers, fathers, and cousins to avoid being murdered by them? How many cages were set up in that mountain for your people Clarke, tell me please."
Clarke's eyes were wide, her breath coming quick and short. She opened her mouth to speak but the dark black of anger in Lexa's eyes was enough to make her close it again.
"Sometimes we make decisions to save our people at the cost of losing others. That is life Clarke. That is war. When your people rallied to protect the murderer you call Finn, you were prepared to lose everyone to save him. I had faith Clarke that you would lead your people to safety and you did. Had I spilt unnecessary blood, my people would have revolted. They would have killed me Clarke and rightfully so." Lexa again drew in a breath, this one trembling slightly before she spoke again. "I promised to bring my people home. I promised to lead them to safety. You must understand. I do not ask forgiveness, I only ask that you cease your hatred of me."
The tension released in Clarke's shoulders, her head dropping as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She let out a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. When she looked up at Lexa she did not see the mighty Commander who had stoically ordered the death of Finn and led them into battle against the mountain. When she looked up at Lexa she saw hurt and pride and regret in her eyes.
"Come with me Clarke. Let me show you that my people are not savages," Lexa practically spit the offending word out, her brow furrowing in tension.
"I left my people because I could not stand to look at them and see their pain and their fear. My own people are scared of me Lexa. They look at me and they see a murderer, someone who didn't hesitate to irradiate an entire bunker and kill every single person inside. What makes you think that I would be willing to go with you, the one who betrayed my trust and made me pull that lever?" Clarke's voice caught in the back of her throat and fresh tears flooded her eyes.
"I'm sorry Clarke." Lexa's eyes were filled with pain as they studied Clarke's face, searching for something, anything to indicate that things would mend between them. "I would have pulled the lever for you if I could, just know that."
Lexa stepped back, turning around before Clarke could truly see the break in the Commander's carefully crafted stoic façade. With a slight shake of her head, the Commander reinforced her walls, sliding the fierce look of power back on her face, allowing it to raise her shoulders and straighten her back. Lexa stepped into the surrounding trees, sizing up her personal guard before gruffly ordering one of them to watch Clarke and ensure her safety. You are a shadow, a protector, not to be seen or heard but always there, she told him.
Over the course of the next few days Clarke struggled to sustain herself. Her body was growing weak and weary. Fatigue and hunger consumed her, but her survival skills were limited and she could not hunt successfully. So, instead of hunting, Clarke spent her daylight hours tracking the imprints of hooves on the earth. Within 3 days time Clarke found herself on the outskirts of a wall taller than any she had ever seen. There were archers every few feet along the top and guards at the equally as intimidating door. Inside, Clarke could hear the hustle and bustle of city life, even laughter reaching her ears.
As Clarke approached the door she heard commands being yelled along the upper wall, the guards on the ground unsheathing their swords and training their eyes on her.
"I wish to speak with the Commander," she yelled. Hesitantly stopping her approach many yards away.
"Who are you?" one of the burly guards asked, his voice gravelly and deep.
"I am Clarke of the Skypeople." In an attempt to mask her fear, Clarke put on the act of a leader, straightening her back and hardening her gaze as she had seen Lexa do countless times.
The guard's eyes widened in surprise and recognition before he turned to the wall and yelled something Clarke couldn't understand in Trigedasleng. Soon the massive doors were being pulled open from the inside and Clarke simply stared at what was revealed inside.
As Clarke made her way into the city, following a warrior she was introduced to as Jathor, she watched the town bustle with liveliness in awe. Jathor was a large man, the typical intricate designs of ink showing on his bare skin and muscles bulging out from his leather armor. As they walked, Jathor did not speak, but every once in awhile he would glance back at Clarke with mirth. Jathor took her away from the center of the city, only allowing her brief glances at the marketplace and the villages lined up within the protective walls. After some time, they approached a grand white house sitting on top of the hill, a flag with the crest of the Trikru waving in front of it.
Jathor led her up the walkway and to the front door, knocking loudly before stepping back and turning around to guard the opening door. Clarke was about to speak when the door was pulled open and her eyes met the same deep green they had been searching for.
"Welcome to Polis Clarke," Lexa declared, a smile ghosting across her lips.