Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Lilacs
The scent that filled her nose, as always, inspired calmness. More relaxation than she liked. Given what her life had been like, any feeling of softness often felt like a betrayal. Like she was committing treason against herself.
Hadn't her whole life been proof that she could never let her guard down?
So then, wasn't any relaxation whatsoever, a danger?
When she had been of only eleven years old, fleeing a mountain whose inhabitants she had wiped out-a mountain whose children she had butchered, she had fled into the woods, desperate to die, but knowing that she couldn't, because of what she was, and could heal faster than any living creature in the world-perhaps more than anything beyond this world.
She wished for herself to die. But she could not.
She could not die, so she hunted down and lived off of pine nuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, apples, figs, crab apples, birds, snakes, crayfish, frogs, fish, strawberries, blueberries and blackberries.
When she wasn't in the wild, and close to tribespeople's farms, she'd steal chicken, turkey and duck eggs, steal melons, tomatoes, peppers, oranges, eggplants, turnips and beets. When she was closer to the other mountains? She would feed on plums, deer, honeycomb and insects.
She hadn't wanted to stay alive, but since she couldn't die, she figured she might as well eat what she could, when she could.
She had tried to stay away from human beings after the mountain, especially children.
She had been eleven years old, and already she had learned that she was of putrid nature.
And because she knew so deeply that she was putrid, vile, so she had decided both to keep a distance from human beings and decided that eating on the creeping and crawling things of the world around her, because she believed the lowly creatures she fed on and stealing was all she deserved. It was all she deserved and it would always be what she deserved.
So, the eleven-year-old girl stayed in the forest. Then she had been found by the Ice Nation.
The Ice Nation tortured her, when they realized that Clarke would not bend to her. Clarke would not escape them, not because she couldn't-because she could. But she didn't escape from them, because she chose not to. She chose not to leave the Ice Nation because she knew the Azgeda's torture was all she deserved.
So, she bore it. It was what she deserved and she allowed the torture to happen.
And that had been the case for years. And she had tortured many, had enjoyed it deeply.
But there had been so many things that she hadn't enjoyed.
But still she had allowed it, because she had deserved it.
She knew that she deserved it.
And what was worse? She knew that she was one of the Ice Nation.
The demons of ice and snow, the beasts of snow and blood, who disemboweled and tortured, the ones who went against the Commander of the tribe's rule and challenged it, claiming that the Commander should bow to them, they welcomed Clarke Griffin-Wanheda, the Commander of Death, with open arms.
Clarke Griffin, Wanheda, knew that she belonged with the beasts known as the Azgeda.
She truly belonged with the beasts that cut, bled, murdered, tortured-she was bound to them, and she knew it.
She was a monster and her joining with the Ice Nation was nothing more than her being with the monsters that she belonged with.
She was a monster and she had come to accept that.
And so the Ice Nation was simply where she belonged.
The Ice Nation, filled with hyenas, lions, bears, wolves, rabid dogs, sharks, lynxes and bobcats wrapped in human skin, with blood pouring from their mouths, razor-sharp fangs sheathed in gore and carnage, they were Clarke's people, and she knew that.
They were all she deserved. She only had been giving herself what she deserved, and nothing more than that.
And would she be doing any less, had she still been eleven old, remaining in the woods, ripping apart owls, falcons, hawks, eagles, sparrows and pigeons, and pulling fish, crayfish and frogs out of the rivers, and stealing vegetables from the gardens of tribespeople?
That was unlikely. But still? She would find some way of making herself even more of a monster than she had been back then, right?
So why shouldn't she join monsters like the Ice Nation?
Shouldn't she be honest?
It would be dishonest, right, if she had not joined the Ice Nation and had tortured with them?
She had done what had been natural to her, as any putrid beast would do.
The Ice Nation? Despite how cruel they had been to her, had crooned over her and had praised her for her own cruelty, her own monstrosity.
In their eyes, she was so much like them.
In their eyes, she belonged with them.
And she had seen no reason to disbelieve their claims.
Because as far as she was concerned?
She was one of them.
She was as bloodthirsty a monster as the rest of them were. And not just because she drank blood. But also because she was sadistic. She had realized by the time she had killed her first prey in the Azgeda's location, that she enjoyed killing people.
It helped her be distracted from her trauma.
Distracted her from her abandonment issues.
She didn't need a psychiatrist to know that she was mentally unbalanced-anyone with half a brain would be able to tell you that.
And if her crimes weren't proof enough of that, she knew that she was a monster. She had killed so many, ripped them apart and had relished in the blood that surrounded her like oceans surrounding seashore.
She, a feral beast, she a bloody dagger incarnate with gore and bone staining her metal body, and Natasha, a spindly, protective, guiding web, stretching out to guard and protect all-such two different beings shouldn't be with each other.
But Clarke?
How could she go against the turn of fate, that had ended with Clarke ending up with her beloved romantic partner soulmate? Natasha was her soulmate. And she couldn't go against that turn of fate.
She wanted to be with Natasha, even though she knew deserved no such affection from such an amazing woman.
She didn't deserve Natasha-not even an inch of her.
But she would never turn away from Natasha, not ever.
Clarke looked over the edge of the tavern's roof, from where she had perched. In present day, she was almost twenty-two, and she watched the people below, wanting to rip their throats out, wanting to prove what a pestilence upon humanity she was.
She heard the footsteps approaching behind her.
She turned around slowly, glancing at the woman who she owed everything to, the woman who she would never be worthy of, not even in over a billion centuries. Natasha Romanoff came over, smiling at Clarke.
"Hello, beautiful," Natasha said, coming up to stand alongside her lover, "Enjoying the view?"
"Depends on what you mean by 'the view,'" Clarke said, wrapping her arms around Natasha's waist, leaning her head forward and resting it against Natasha's right shoulder and smirked, "If you mean the sidewalk down below, it's boring. But if you mean looking at you? That's another story." She lifted her head from Natasha's shoulder and leaned forward, kissing the redhead's lips gently and tilted her head back and said snickering, "If you mean looking at you, then I'm very much enjoying the view."
Natasha smirked. "Flatterer." She said, leaning her head in and kissing Clarke's neck, causing her mate to gasp.
"I've got something for you," Natasha said, reaching into her pocket and pulling it out, showing it to Clarke as she stepped back, "Hope you like it, malen'kiy."
Clarke looked down at the flowers that Natasha had brought for her. Lilacs. It wasn't that long stalk of lilacs that grew on trees. But flowers that Natasha likely had picked off those stalks. Natasha smiled as Clarke took those flowers from her mate's hand and smelled those flowers. Clarke lowered the lilacs from her face, smiling, "People say lilacs don't have a strong scent. But I can smell them. They smell good. Thank you, Natasha."
Natasha nodded. She said gently, "I'm afraid I can't take all the credit. Sam said you'd like them."
Clarke chuckled, "Well, still, thank you anyway. And I sure as hell ain't thanking Sam."
Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes, "You know Sam, Clint, and the rest of the boys all care about you, right?"
"I know, I know." Clarke snorted. "Clint," She hesitated, "I know he loves me, alright? I know he wants me safe. And I care about him, okay? I do. But you know he and his kids and his wife and Sam too, are all better off without-"
"Don't," Natasha said firmly, eyes now narrowing, her smile falling from her face, "We are not having this conversation. You are worth everything and more. You just need to accept that. We all care about you. Alright? So, watch it."
Clarke snorted, "Trying to threaten me into seeing myself as worth it? I'll admit, that's a new one for me."
"Well, you are worth the effort." Natasha said with meaning in her voice as Clarke picked up the rest of the lilacs and she lowered her hand to her side. "I know that's new for you to experience, but…"
Clarke nodded. It had been almost two years since Natasha and the other Avengers had found Clarke in the Ice Nation, staying up in a tree, but still, almost two years? That wasn't enough time for Clarke to heal from her issues and the both of them knew it.
Clarke smiled at Natasha as she tucked each of the lilac's ends into her shirt pocket. "I love you." She told the black Widow.
Natasha smiled again. "I love you, zherebenok."
Clarke chuckled, "Ah, another pet name. Do you ever get tired of giving me pet names, Nat?"
Natasha shook her head, red hair fluttering around her leather-bound shoulders. "Never." She informed her younger girlfriend, mate and lover.
"Can't say I'm surprised." Clarke chuckled again, "What did that one mean?"
"Foal." Natasha answered.
This time, instead of chuckling, Clarke released a deep laugh, causing some people from the streets below to look up and Natasha to lift her eyebrows, smirking.
"'Foal,' huh?" Clarke asked, body shaking with her amusement as her fingers absentmindedly touched the petals of the lilacs she had been given, "First 'fawn,' now 'foal?' You know, if you keep comparing me to baby animals, I'm going to have to start thinking that you might have a fetish."
"Well," Natasha said, snickering, "It would be boring to just call you 'baby.' Might as well do something a little original."
"Well," Clarke snorted, "You've never been boring in your entire life, I'll give you that. But really, this baby animal thing?"
Natasha's eyebrows lifted again. "You don't like it?" She asked, curious.
Clarke shook her head, "No, I don't mean that I dislike it. Just wondering why you do it. I've never heard anyone call their respective others those types of things is all. It's not that I dislike it. Actually, I kind of dolike it. Just wondering, is all."
Natasha nodded. "It's because," She took a breath, as if unsure of how to explain this, "I love you, that should be obvious."
Clarke nodded, feeling warmth seep into her chest at those words.
Natasha continued, "And I want you to keep knowing that. But I don't think that what's between us can be summed up in only words like 'I love you' or 'sweetie.' I suppose it's a strange thing, and it's cheesy for me to say, but I feel like with how I feel about you…it needs more than superficial words. It just feels…like it's not enough to show you how I feel."
Natasha eyed Clarke, like she expected Clarke to laugh at her at any moment for such a statement, but Clarke found herself at a loss for words, lower jaw slightly parted.
It was like Natasha pulled the words right out of Clarke's mouth.
That was exactly how Clarke felt.
Like words like 'I love you,' 'sweetie,' 'dear' and so on were just superficial, like it wouldn't do any justice to what was between them, or even remotely close to how Clarke felt for Natasha.
Natasha was right. Formalities and small words of endearment, none of it would convey just what exactly Clarke felt for Natasha, or any of her romantic partner soulmates, but especially for Natasha. And she was sure that Natasha knew it too.
Clarke smiled before she could help it and said, "I'm sorry. I…I really wish I had been prepared for something like that. Wow. But yeah. You know, you're right. I think I feel the exact same way."
Natasha smiled again, a warmth exuding from her that weirdly made Clarke shiver. It wasn't a sexual look like Clarke was used to-and she could assure absolutely anyone that she always appreciated those looks.
No, this was a gaze of endearing, affection and adoration.
Natasha moved closer and pressed herself up against Clarke, their foreheads pressing together.
"Thank you." Clarke said, as Natasha held her and Clarke took in the older woman's scent.
"For what, love?" Natasha asked, left gloved hand reaching up and cupping the right side of Clarke's face.
Clarke chuckled, "Just for being you. Just for being in my life."
Natasha gave Clarke her own chuckle in return. "Such a naïve malen'kiy never have to ask. And you really think even if you didn't want me to be, I wouldn't be in your life?" She leaned forward and kissed Clarke deeply. Clarke groaned, feeling Natasha's tongue stroke her own, causing jolts of electrical pleasure to shoot through her as Natasha cradled the younger woman in her arms.
Clarke sagged in Natasha's grasp, as always, giving the redhead all the power in the world.
Clarke inhaled Natasha's scent, along with the scent of the lilacs around them. She loved the smell of flowers, but she'd take Natasha's scent over them, any day.
Author's note:
As usual, we're ending this with corniness. But hope you liked it as always.