A/N: You'll recognize stuff from the movie if you've seen it - this is basically a 'novelization' except with The 100. I've tried to personalize it to fit our favorite characters more closely :) Also, please note that the fictional character Elizabeth/Eliza is not supposed to be EJT. I'll write a longer author's note when I post the second chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to either The 100 or The Princess Switch. I'm just a fan.

Chicago, USA - December 15th 2018- 1:00 PM CST

A sharp, biting gust of wind floods the Dropship Bakery; the frigid air blows through the open door, carrying with it a flurry of snow before it is firmly cut off by the new arrival. Clarke barely gives the tinkling of the shop bell a second thought as she carefully places the chocolate Santa Claus atop his festive cake. Fox would no doubt be at the register — they'd had a steady line of customers since noon.

Clarke steps back to admire her creation, blonde head cocked to the side. But before she can appraise the cake properly, a deliberate cough rings out from behind her. "Any sugar cookies for your favorite goddaughter?"

Clarke whirls around with a grin. "Madi!"

The brown-haired child slides under the counter and throws her arms around the blonde, squeezing Clarke so tightly that she thinks she might suffocate. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

"I got out of dance early and thought I'd surprise you!"

"Did you walk all the way here?"

"Well I didn't hitch-hike."

"There is that, I guess."

"It's only a couple of blocks, Clarke."

"I know!" Clarke laughs as Madi props her small chin against Clarke's stomach and looks up with those big brown eyes. "Geez, you sound like Bell when you talk like that."

"Where is my dad?"

"Probably in the back," Clarke indicates with her head.

"And my sugar cookie?"

"Madi Blake, don't act like you don't know exactly where we keep the broken cookies."

The child grins and spins away with a skip. Clarke turns back to the cake, scratching an itch on her hairline with the back of her sleeve just as her best friend pokes his head out from the shop's office. Bellamy always has had a sixth sense when it comes to his daughter.

"Hey there, gremlin," he chuckles in his deep timbre, crossing the shop to ruffle his daughters mop of hair. "Only one, okay?"

Clarke snorts, "I think she's eaten three already."

"Clarke!" Madi cries indignantly.

"Sorry, kid."

Bellamy shakes his head even as his daughter tugs at his shirt sleeve, whispering, "C'mon, dad."

"Nope."

"One more?"

"Negative."

"Just—"

Bellamy lifts the girl upside down in one quick motion. Madi lets out a shrieking giggle as he carries her over to Clarke where the woman stands beside her cake. "Why don't you help Clarke, huh?"

"She's already finished," Madi complains, sticking out her tongue at the pair.

Clarke crosses her arms. "It's almost perfect, but…"

The cake is shaped into a classic farmhouse and decorated with green, red, and gold fondant. Santa and his horde of reindeer perch atop the roof while the jolly man sits frozen in the midst of waving at a small gathering of chocolate children below. It's one of her best yet, but Clarke still isn't happy with it. It needs something else… An idea strikes Clarke, bringing a smile to her face. She spins toward her workbench and then freezes, eyes scanning the table. The edible white glitter is not where she left it.

"Looking for this?"

Clarke turns around to find Bellamy holding the bottle, a wry grin stretched across his face. She rolls her eyes and snatches the glitter, stepping forward to dust it over the top of her creation. "It's like you're reading my mind. I don't know how you do that," she says with a shake of her head.

"It's why you keep me around," he nudges her shoulder when she has finished sprinkling the decoration. "I'm the best 'sous chef' you could ask for."

Clarke snorts, "And your my best friend."

Bellamy crosses his arms, grinning at her sideways. She shoves him back and laughs, sinking into his side as he wraps an arm around her. A small cough echoes from behind the two adults — the same deliberate 'eh-hem' from before, a habit which Madi has no doubt picked up from Octavia. The noise brings the two around, twisting to look at the small devil. Sure enough, Madi has her eyebrows raised knowingly. With that same look in her eyes that always means mischief. Clarke sticks out her tongue at the girl, making the child laugh.

She loves Madi like the kid is her own. Sometimes when Clarke looks at the pair of them, at Madi and Bellamy, she wonder if it wouldn't just make sense. If they wouldn't just make sense. As a family. Her and Bellamy. They'd been friends for so long and she really did love him. She had been there for him when Gina died, been there to help raise Madi when he'd been so broken that Clarke wasn't sure if he'd ever recover. And he had been there for her a thousand times over. When she'd been cut up over Finn ending things… which she still is, if she's honest.

Her heart clenches at the thought. Because she misses Finn. Misses having that person to wake up to, that person to share things with, to get excited over. It would be so easy to have that with Bellamy. It would make sense…. But they have been friends for so long. Whenever there was a moment where Clarke wondered if they might become more, one of them always shied away. And honestly, maybe there was a reason for that. Plus, it would be Bellamy, she reminds herself. And he's like family. That alone would take as much effort to navigate as it would to simply go on a date with someone new.

"Have you told her?" Madi's barely whispered question pulls Clarke's attention back to the bakery.

She glances between the pair, "Told me what?"

"Madi," Bellamy mutters exasperatedly.

"Just tell her, dad."

"Seriously. Tell me what?"

A slight flush paints Bellamy's brown skin and he shifts his weight. Clarke stares at him expectantly, making her expression more intense until he finally caves, "Okay, so you know that baking competition you're always going on about?"

"The one in Polis?"

"Yeah."

"Of course," Clarke nods. "What about it?"

"Well—"

"Dad entered you into the competition!"

"What?" "Madi!"

"He sent your—"

Bellamy claps a hand over his daughter's mouth, grinning sheepishly. "Let me tell it, okay?"

"Mphine," Madi's muffled agreement comes from behind Bellamy's hand. A second later he yelps, releasing her, and glares at his daughter-turned-cannibal.

"What did I tell you about biting?" he points a finger at her, but she just smiles prettily.

"Octavia says it builds character."

"Of course she does," Bellamy rubs a hand over his face. "Remind me to have a word with your aunt the next time you stay over."

"Bellamy," Clarke urges him.

"Right. Sorry," he murmurs, returning to the topic at hand. "Anyways, after you and Finn broke up, you were so sad. I wanted to do something to cheer you up. So, I sent in your recipe for raspberry eclairs and a photo to the committee… And they want you! You're in! Here."

He pulls out a crimson envelope from his back pocket and hands it to her. Clarke stares skeptically at the letter before opening it.

Dear Ms. Griffin,

At the behest of the her majesty, Alexandra Kom Trikru I, Queen of Polis, the judging committee is pleased to invite you to compete in the fifty-sixth International Christmas Baking Competition. Please RSVP at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,
Luna Kom Flokru, Head of the Judging Committee

"Well…" Clarke sighs. "It's really sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah," she shrugs. "I mean it's nice to just get into the competition. Even if I can't go."

Madi gasps, "What do you mean?"

Bellamy whispers something in the girl's ear and then follows after Clarke as she heads back to her workbench. She picks up her printed list and begins to scan the To-Dos. There are still so many orders to be completed.

"Of course, you can go, Clarke."

She shakes her head, "There are way too many things to get done for us to jet off to Polis. We live in Chicago, Bellamy. Polis is halfway around the world. Plus, neither of us have the funds for this kind of trip."

Bellamy moves around the table to face her, "But that's just it. They're paying for everything, Clarke. The airfare. The accommodations. We even have a few days to go sightseeing before the competition starts."

"I don't know, Bell," Clarke crosses her arms. "I just— Christmas was a really important time of year for me and Finn. We were together for five years. I spent every Christmas with his family and… and you know what that meant to me! My mom and I never did anything big when I was growing up. I couldn't even convince her to have a tree. Not even a fake one. So, no. I don't want to go. I'm not ready to let go of that tradition."

"So you're going to spend Christmas all alone?"

"What? No! I'm—"

"You and Finn broke up. Over six months ago. It's not going to be the same regardless." Bellamy's voice is soft, but Clarke still feels cut by his words. Even if they are true.

"I don't care."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

Clarke rolls her eyes at him, but he just pulls her around the bench and into a bear hug. She can feel that familiar stinging warmth seeping into her eyes and she blinks rapidly. Even if no one can see her, Clarke doesn't want to cry. She didn't plan to cry today. Not today. And if she can just stick to the plan, complete her list of To-Dos, then everything will be just fine.

Wembley, Polis - December 15th 2018 - 20:00 CET

"Your grace, is there anything I can get for you?"

Elizabeth Kane, Duchess of Arkadia, turns from the floor-length window to glare at her oldest friend. "Raven, how many times have I told you to call me Eliza? I'm not even a proper duchess yet. Or a princess for that matter. So don't you dare start on any 'your highness' business either."

Raven Reyes chuckles from where she stands in the middle of the gilded bedroom. "Of course, your grace."

Eliza rolls her eyes and turns back to the window, staring out at the shadowed landscape. In the twilight gloom, the forest surrounding the castle almost glows under the freshly fallen snow. As her eyes search for the obscured horizon, one hand comes up to rest against the silver wishbone pendant around her neck, the only thing Eliza has left of her mother. She sighs and crosses her arms against the sudden chill which permeates her bedchamber despite the the crackling fire.

"I'm told Polis is beautiful in the springtime," Raven murmurs, coming to stand beside the duchess at the window. "All green hills and rolling pastures."

Eliza nods, but says nothing. She can feel Raven's concern fill the room like the aroma of bread. And she doesn't want that. She doesn't want her friend to worry. Still, Eliza cannot help how she feels. She's tried. Countless times over the past three months since they arrived in Polis. This betrothal has been planned for the better part of two years. Eliza has known for a while that it would be her reality. Yet it was not until she set foot in this drafty, old castle that she truly realized how real the engagement was.

A soft knock at the door draws Raven from the window. The brunette crosses the room steadily; only a trained eye would be able to tell that she favors her right knee. Eliza mentally marks that down as another reason she dislikes Polis. The harsh weather has been nothing but trouble for her best friend's injury. And it certainly had not helped that the country's infamous snowstorms had started only two weeks after they arrived, trapping them both in the castle to be buried beneath Eliza's dismal mood.

Raven cracks the door open, pauses, then drops into a formal bow, "Majesty."

"Has her grace already turned in for the evening?" The low, husky voice of the queen is muffled by the heavy door. Eliza feels her stomach knot and tries to relax as she walks across the brocaded carpet.

"It's fine, Raven," Eliza murmurs, switching places with her friend at the door. Raven shoots her a quick smile before moving away. The duchess performs a perfunctory curtsy, "Is there anything I can do for your majesty?"

Alexandra, the reigning monarch of Polis and Eliza's intended, stands in the hall beyond, still dressed in her crisp navy suit and creamy, chiffon button-up from earlier. The queen's hands rest lightly in her pockets, shoulders relaxed as she nods in greeting. Eliza frowns.

"Have you only just finished working?"

Another nod. "It was a busy day."

"Aren't they all?"

"Some more than others."

Eliza bites her lip as silence stretches between them. She folds her hands together, "Was there something you needed?"

Alexandra's eyes graze over her and Eliza cannot tell whether the look is calculating or simply inquisitive. The woman is enigmatic at best.

"Elizabeth—"

"Eliza."

"Right," the queen pauses, giving an indulgent if not a little tight smile. "I wanted to express to you how much I enjoyed our game of chess this afternoon."

"Yes, it was very nice."

"So you enjoyed it as well?"

"Hmmm," Eliza bobs her head in affirmation.

Alexandra tilts her own, curious, "More than our other excursion? Than the horseback rides?"

"Oh, no! I enjoy them all… equally."

"No favorite then?"

Eliza's brows furrow, "Do you want me to have a favorite?"

"I just thought that if there was one activity you enjoyed more than the rest, we might prioritize it for our… future meetings."

Future meetings. That sounds about as romantic as an old boot. Eliza peers at the woman on the other side of the door, trying to see if there is something there which she has missed in her previous appraisals. There is no overt awkwardness to the Queen, but something in her reserved manner puts Eliza on edge. She never knows quite what to do or what to say when the monarch is around. Though it should be second nature to her, having grown up her whole life around nobility.

"I love riding," she finally says with a small shrug. "I used to ride competitively. When I was younger."

"Riding it is, then." Alexandra smiles and this time there is more warmth to it. Maybe they could have something. With enough time and effort, maybe something could grow between them. Eliza just wishes it didn't feel so hard. Even after three months, she still might as well be living with a stranger. The queen straightens, "I'll have Gustus make a plan for when I return."

"When you return?"

"Did he not tell you? I apologize. Gustus was supposed to have informed you this morning," Alexandra grimaces and shifts her weight. "Unfortunately, something has come up. I have to fly to Spain for a few days, but I should be back before Christmas."

"Oh… safe travels then."

The young queen nods and steps forward. Eliza stiffens, but remains still as Alexandra places a soft kiss on her cheek. She tries to smile wide as the brunette shifts back. She should return the kiss, shouldn't she? Maybe… but before Eliza can make up her mind the queen is bidding her farewell.

"Goodnight, Elizabe—"

"Eliza," she reminds her.

"Eliza."

"Goodnight, Alexandra."

The queen pauses for a moment then offers, "You may call me Lexa."

"Goodnight then, Lexa."

"Goodnight."

Eliza slowly shuts the heavy door, giving the retreating figure of her fiancee another partial smile before it latches shut. She turns and rests her back against the engraved wood. Her fingers rub at the headache forming between her eyes.

"Liza?" Raven's voice calls from the closet, bringing the duchess from her stupor. The brunette walks back into the bedroom, a nightgown draped over her arm. When she sees Eliza rubbing her forehead, she stills. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," the blonde shrugs with a grimace. "There's really nothing you can do."

"It went well then." Raven's dry sarcasm makes Eliza chuckle.

"As well as it ever goes."

"No progress?"

"I'm not sure how there will ever be progress if all we do is play chess in silence and ride horses ten feet apart from each other."

Raven frowns, placing the nightgown on the four-poster's creamy duvet. "But you are attracted to her?"

"Yes. I mean, she is gorgeous," Eliza flops down beside the sleepwear, ignoring the tight pull of her fitted dress. "I just… she's so stoic. Like some beautiful painting, you know? Something you admire… rather than touch."

Raven made a sound that she was listening even as she moved around the room. But Eliza didn't know what else to say. She stared up at the sheer canopy above her bed, wondering how much of the stagnation between her and Alexandra— Lexa was really her own fault. She missed Arkadia. Missed her father. Missed the warm island breeze on her bare skin. She'd never worn so much clothing in her life and felt more like an oversized marshmallow than royalty any time she left the castle grounds.

"When does my father arrive?" Eliza wonders aloud, sitting up to look at Raven.

"The day before Christmas, I believe. I'll have to check your calendar. He'll be here a few days before the wedding, regardless."

"Maybe he'll bring some sunshine with him," Eliza mutters.

"Should I send him a memo to pack some in his bag?"

"I'd love to see his face when he reads that."

"Which reminds me," Raven pulls out a letter from some hidden pocket, the blue Arkadian wax still sealed. "He did send this."

"Raven! You might have said earlier." Eliza leaps up to snatch the envelope with eager fingers before settling down on the satin divan at the foot of her bed. Her hands tremble slightly as she rips open the seal.

Daughter,

I had hoped that your silence meant your visit to Polis was going well. However, Queen Alexandra has reached out with some concern for your happiness. Have you been behaving? I know your wildness often gets the best of you. Do not lose sight of the goal, Elizabeth. Your happiness is a priority. After your duty. It would benefit you to find a way to merge the two.

Your father,
Marcus Kane, Archduke of Arkadia

The parchment falls from Eliza's hands as she stands up abruptly. Her eyes sting and she wonders why she missed her father so much in the first place. The distance has made her forget how cold and sparing he can be with his affection. Not that he has ever been the doting father she wanted. But Eliza guesses it's only fair since she has proved to be just as much of a disappointment.

"What is it, Liza?"

"Nothing," she laughs sharply. "Just my duty." Eliza bends down to grab the fallen letter and walks across the brocaded carpet to throw the parchment into the flames. She watches the paper ignite and turn to ash behind the grate. "I need to get out of here, Raven."

"I'll call for the car."

"No," Eliza shakes her head. "I don't mean for an hour. I mean I need to get out of here. I need to live, to be myself. Just me. Even if only for a day. No responsibilities other than my own. No chaperones or paparazzi or duty. Maybe… maybe if I can experience the simplicity of being me, even just for a moment, I'll be able to do this."

Raven's expression is pained, apologetic, "I— I can't… If there was any way…"

"I know," Eliza exhales, tucking a piece of her blonde bob behind her ear and staring back at the flames. "I know. It's a nice thought though."

"The best."

Chicago, USA - December 15th 2018- 6:00 PM CST

"Merry Christmas," Clarke smiles at the Salvation Army volunteer as she places a few dollars from the Dropship's tip jar into the metal barrel. He responds in kind, wishing her 'happy holidays,' but Clarke's gaze is pulled away as a young man pushes through the glass doors of the department store. She gives the volunteer another quick smile and moves towards the familiar figure, not believing her own eyes. But it's him. She would recognize his shoulder-length dark hair anywhere.

"Finn?" His name leaves her lips before she can think better of it and the man turns around slowly. His familiar brown eyes crinkle at the side as he sees her. It's been far too long.

"Clarke?" he laughs, hugging her like they are old friends. "Oh my god. It feels like forever since I've seen you."

She smiles into his jacket, "I know." And if his hug lingers a little too long, she doesn't say anything. Clarke only breathes in his familiar scent. The smell of tobacco and licorice. She smiles wider, remembering how she used to hate that he smelled like licorice. Now it makes her eyes water slightly. But she blinks the moisture away before stepping back.

"It's so good to see you," she flattens the lapel of his coat which has rumpled from their hug. "How have you been?"

"Good, really good. You?"

"Yeah… Good." They both ignore the way she paused before speaking. Or maybe she's the only one that noticed it. Maybe it sounded completely natural to him.

"I miss you," he says and Clarke feels the breath leave her body. She stares at him and for a moment she can see how the future will go. How he will invite her for a coffee and they will get to chatting. The coffee will turn into dinner and then into drinks at her place. Then they will make love, and by morning the last six months apart will have been forgotten — a far off memory.

Her heart swells as she opens her mouth, "I miss—"

"Oh, there you are honey!"

A beautiful willowy woman pushes through the glass doors and walks up to Finn. She wraps her petite gloved hands around his arm and tilts her head up, waiting. He gives the woman a kiss and tells Clarke her name, but she doesn't hear it.

The woman smiles sweetly, "Sorry, who are you?"

"Clarke. My name is Clarke. I'm… I'm sure Finn has talked about me before."

"Hmm," the woman shakes her head. "Can't say I remember."

Finn laughs awkwardly and shrugs by way of an apology. What a fucking shit apology. Clarke clenches her teeth and tries to keep smiling.

"We should go if we don't want to be late, Finn," the woman reminds him and Clarke tries not to watch as she strokes Finn's arm.

"Off in a hurry?" Clarke asks, crossing her arms against the sudden chill. Her voice sounds snappier than she meant it, but she doesn't really care. Honestly, she doesn't feel like being nice at this point.

"Yeah," Finn says slowly. "We have a train to catch."

"We're heading to Finn's parents for the holidays. What about you? Do you have any special Christmas plans?"

His parents. He's taking No Name to his fucking parents' house. Just like he took Clarke. And they cannot have been dating for more than six months because he hasn't been single for longer than that. He's taking her to his parents after only a few months. And after he made such a big deal of it. After he insisted Clarke couldn't come until they had been dating for over a year. Clarke's gaze bores into Finn, but he just looks away. Coward.

"Umm," she tries to think. All the cheery, single person things she had planned to do sound so pathetic and lonely to say out loud. She's not about to admit that she planned to watch Love Actually and eat a pint of Rocky Road by herself. Fuck that. So she says the next thing that comes to her mind. "I'm competing in a big baking competition in Europe. I'm super busy getting ready to leave actually. You'll have to excuse me. Have fun at Finn's parents. Say hi to Jim and Kathy for me, won't you?"

Clarke gives them a jerky wave and stomps off through the snowy sidewalk towards her loft apartment. She pulls off her gloves and curses as her fingers hit the frigid air. Her phone screen lights up with a picture of Madi and Bellamy on the front and she presses the one number in her speed dial besides her mother's. It rings twice before Bellamy's voice crackles through the speaker.

"Yeah?"

"Pack your bags, Blake," Clarke says with fiery determination. "We're going to Polis."

A/N: Please leave a review! They give me life and let me know you're interested!