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Prologue
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She was breathing hard, and there was a pitched ringing in her ears. The gun in her hand was still smoking, her nose filled with the scent of gunpowder. Her body felt like it was submerged in ice, standing over the body of Thelonious Jaha as he bled to death in his own bed. One perfect bullet hole in the dead center of his forehead.
He never even opened his eyes.
Her mind tried to rationalize and take stock of the situation. She must've been in shock because all she could think about was how much a bullet wound actually bled. It was her first time seeing one in person and she wondered if he even knew what happened. Did he feel it? The pierce of metal through his head? Even when his breathing stopped, and the white sheets were soaked in coagulated blood, she couldn't stop looking at him with morbid curiosity until feeling came back into the tips of her fingers and she remembered the real reason she was here.
"I can get you on the dropship," Shumway drawled passively, leaned up against the metal wall of a quiet hallway. "But it comes at a price."
"Anything!" She had replied eagerly. Too eagerly, too desperately, and the man's eyes lit up.
"Kill Thelonious Jaha."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she wasn't quite sure she heard what she thought she heard. "W-what?"
He bared his teeth in the semblance of a grin that unnerved her. "Kill the Chancellor, and there will be a spot waiting for you on the dropship." He pushed himself off the wall and shrugged. "Unless… of course, your brother's life isn't worth it?" Shumway toyed with a gun in his hands.
Clarke narrowed her eyes, snatching the weapon from him and tucking it into the back of her pants, and covered it with her tattered t-shirt. "When does the dropship leave?" She growled through gritted teeth, squeezing her fists tight so he doesn't notice how hard her hands are shaking.
His feral grin transformed into a glint in his eyes, and a self-satisfied smirk. "Six, tomorrow morning." He stepped to leave, before half-turning around, calling over his shoulder. "Be at the B-deck doors before then. I can't hold the ship for you."
A quick glance at the small bed-side table digital clock told her she had less than five minutes to get half-way across the Ark before they left without her. "God shit, fucking damn it." She muttered underneath her breath, jumping off the bed and tucking the weapon back into her pants.
With a last look at the Chancellor's apartment doors, she felt a small measure of pity for Wells when he found his father. He didn't deserve to have his only parent murdered in cold blood, but she never deserved to have her brother dropped to Earth alone on a suicide mission either.
The blonde didn't bother to hide herself, running through all the main passageways. If she didn't make it, she was going to be floated when they pulled up the video archives. And Abby Griffin would be the one pressing the button. Just like she was the one who pressed it when they floated her father who refused to stay quiet about the flaw in the Ark's system.
It happened a month ago, the wound still fresh. But through his death came the discovery of a secret kept hidden in an abandoned storage room, in a deserted part of the Ark.
A boy of sixteen years, who was nearly identical to her in every way. The blue of their eyes, the pale flaxen color of their hair. They could have been twins, if not for the five-year difference between the two.
Her mother was locked up, awaiting council decision to float her or keep her.
Clarke was spared, her innocence proven by video archives.
In the five weeks between the discovery and the organization of the Dropship, Clarke slowly began to learn about her new brother. His name was Taylor. He knew about her and kept a small photograph of their parents with Clarke in the middle. It was worn by time and faded with constant handling. He loved art and had re-read the same picture book of Earth for years. His favorite were the things called forests. He wanted to see how tall trees grew and wondered if they touched the sky. His favorite animal was a deer, because the antlers made them look like royalty. He only had a single wish, and that was to live in a log-cabin with her, walk barefoot in the grass, and nap in the sun between the trees.
Taylor just wanted to be free.
Clarke rounded the corner at full speed, crashing into the wall, hands slamming into contact with metal to brace her fall. The guards were ushering the last of the delinquents into the dropship with Shumway standing at the door. Her excessive use of exercise left her breathless and unable to call out. Instead, she half-dragged herself up to the man with sweat running down her back. He noticed her, pulling them both aside. "Is it done?" He whispered into her ear.
She nodded through the blackness that lingered at the edges of her peripheral. Shumway was positively glowing, and his smile was the last thing she saw before there was a sharpness at the back of her neck and the rest of her world faded away.
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"-rke."
She hummed, tongue peaking out to lick her dry lips.
"-arke!"
Pale blue eyes opened slowly, and she tugged on the restraints. She frowned, looking at the seat belts that fastened her to the seat.
"Clarke!"
Her head snapped up to lock onto identical eyes that were wide with worry.
"Taylor," she breathed, relaxing into her seat. Days of anxiety all melted away as soon as she saw her baby brother within arm's reach again. "You're safe."
The blonde boy frowned. "Of course, I'm safe. But that's not the point. What are you doing here, Clarke? I heard the guards talking, and it's just supposed to be kids from lock-up." His head tilted to the side, and the florescent lights caught the strands of his pale, wavy hair. The furrow between his brow deepened, and reminded her so much of their father. Her heart ached. "What did you do?" His voice dripped with suspicion and she sighed.
With a quick glance around to the other kids around them who were too busy engaged in conversations, she leaned as far forward as she could. "I made a deal." She whispered, picking at a frayed thread from her belts. "I couldn't let you go alone." She felt tears choking up in her, and she cleared her throat with her best smile. "Besides, you're my family. It's a big sisters responsibility to take care of their baby brothers. I never did get a chance to take care of you when you were younger, and now I can." She shrugged.
Her lips twitched at the faint blush coming up his neck. And for the first time in months, she felt good. She found a way to stay with her brother, escape the overwhelming pressure of the council wanting to make her the new chief Doctor, and the pitying stares of the rest of their society. It was going to be a fresh start. For the both of them.
And she would be damned if she didn't make his dream come true.
The ship began to rattle and shake uncontrollably, Thelonious Jaha's recorded voice droning on in the background. The rattling of metal bars grinding against each other grew louder until the video of Jaha cut out and it silenced all conversation. It must've been the re-entry and Clarke wondered if the 300 year old metal was going to withstand it.
The ship settled back down, and she let out the breath she was holding. Jaha flickered back on, droning about finding supplies. A place called Mount Weather. She tried not to watch the video because all she could remember is the scent of gun-power and iron, and it made her stomach turn.
Then came the horrified screams. The dropship was falling apart. Screws popping off the walls, and Clarke watched as they shot straight through body parts, kids crying out in pain. A quick glance to her left told her one found its mark in the middle of the young girl's forehead. Metal began to groan loudly, and the strange sound of it tearing apart. The rush of air de-pressurized the cabins and Clarke gasped for breath, clawing at her neck. Her hair was whipping around her face, and she could barely see the blur of red lights, sharpened metal and a blue sky.
Light flooded in, and the last thing she saw was a line forming between her and Taylor, the metal tearing apart. Taylor's eyes were wide with fear, his hand stretched out to her. She reached out to him, their fingertips brushing against each other before she was thrust away.
"CLARKE!"
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A/N:
-So I read a prompt a really long time ago about what if your OTP had their roles reversed. And I always could imagine Clarke with a younger brother. Toss in an Azgeda!Clarke into the mix and I was practically drooling over what an amazing story I could create with that. Because Azgeda!Clarke is the best Clarke. I'm also setting the time between the end of the world, and the Dropship's reentry to 300 years cause it makes more sense to me.
-Endgame is OBVIOUSLY going to be Bellarke, but I am throwing in some Ontari/Clarke (Ontarke? Clontari? Clari?) and you can pry that crack pairing from my cold, dead hands. Probably won't be any Clexa, but idk yet. You might have to convince me.
-Warnings are literally everything. I'll post it on the next chapter too, but this isn't going to be a pretty story. We got murder in the first chapter and it's just going to go downhill from there. Azgeda is not a kind clan. They are cruel and ruthless, and will tear you apart with blunted teeth just to see you suffer.
-The mains are going to be Clarke, Raven, Murphy, and Octavia. That's my dream team.
-Aesthetic boards can be found on Pinterest at ValenciaWrites. It'll be under We Are the North. Check it out!