Manifest Destiny: Clarke
By Ryu Niiyama
Please note this isn't actually a Clexa story.
Clarke Griffin was dying.
The rage of Wanheda was burning Clarke Griffin alive, destroying everything about her; her kindness, her dreams, and leaving nothing but pain in its wake. Wanheda lusted for revenge but Clarke only wanted to be free. Clarke didn't want the crown of the sky that turned her into a monster, that took everything she valued and burned it to ash. Wanheda warred with Clarke, struggling to drown her in blood and fire and hatred. In the darkness they fought and the isolation the Heda ordered had given Clarke Griffin time to return to herself.
They had been wrong. The earth was not fit for humanity; not the humanity that created literature and art, that furthered medicine and mapped the stars. All that was left were these animals; tribals that didn't care about their lost legacy, barbarians that would bury the world again in war. Their simple cruelty spread to the last bastion of humanity, the Ark, turning what should have been humanity's rebirth into another faction of squabbling bickering tribes. They called her princess and instead of seeing how they could rebuild they regressed; forgetting the sacrifices of their ancestors to bind the space stations, to put nations that had been enemies in one place and have them work towards a common goal. They became corrupt and cruel, mimicking the grounder brethren they had never met.
The grounders had been barbaric and their sense of loyalty and honor only went as far as their own gains. They didn't take a long view, and the one that did, the one called Heda would destroy them all in her lust for glory and control. Clarke had been a fool to love her…to become Klark for her but she knew now these animals didn't understand loyalty. She would never be Klark again.
They used the skaiprisa, Finn had been the first, but the rest had followed his lead, only taking from her: her knowledge, her compassion, her kindness and they gave nothing in return. Lexa had used Klark as well, had wanted a stupid, simpering woman that she could use and then betray; that she could cast aside with no sense of loyalty or love. The Heda wanted Klark as well but she needed Wanheda, her lies had embroiled the coalition in dissent and she had the audacity to expect Wanheda to kneel at her feet and give her everything all over again.
They would never let her be free…they would see Clarke Griffin die to remake her in their image.
Roan had one thing correct, she had been too afraid, so afraid of becoming Klark or Wanheda that she was unable to protect Clarke Griffin. No longer would she be stripped of her right to be herself, the Ark had branded her a prisoner, Lexa had branded her Klark and The Heda and her mockery of humanity branded her Wanheda.
She thought of her father, a good man who died for what he believed in…even if it been a false justice. Her father held on to his identity till the end. His blood flowed through her veins…could she do any less? So Clarke Griffin waited in the dark and knitted her soul back together, piece by piece and she would bide her time.
Lexa believed she could bend her Klark, and she believed that her might was absolute…that there was nowhere that Klark could go that she could not find her. She believed that Klark was weak, a simpering maiden waiting for her powerful Heda to guide her. So she eased the guard after the first week, more focused on stopping the Ice Nation uprising. When her lone guard came to her with food Clarke struck, and this time she would not hesitate…this time she would not be afraid.
She killed him with the desperation that allowed her to slay a panther, just as that beast would have killed her, the Trikru wanted nothing more than to destroy Clarke Griffin and remake her into their Wanheda… their skaiprisa. She stripped the warrior and donned his clothes and weapons, ready to reach for her freedom and her right to be Clarke Griffin.
She may not escape, but let them come, if they killed her this day she would die as Clarke Griffin. And if she had to die this day she would die on her feet.
