I do not own the 100. Unfortunately, someone had the idea first and I am stuck with creating stories in my mind or on my phone with Lexa and Clarke getting the life they deserved.
Clarke woke with a gasp, her eyes flying open. The familiar weight of Jack's head resting on her stirred a wave of warmth through her. She yawned, stretching her stiff limbs, and patted her faithful companion. He whinnied softly in response, nuzzling his head against her.
Rising, she walked to the edge of the cave, her gaze drawn to the sky. The sun had already climbed high, its position a stark reminder of the passage of time. A sigh escaped her lips. It was time.
With a heavy heart, Clarke began to gather her meager belongings. She carefully sorted through the items she had accumulated over the years, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. This cave, this solitude, had been her refuge, her sanctuary. But she knew she couldn't hide forever.
The weight of her past actions pressed heavily on her. The memories of Mount Weather, the agonizing decision she had made, the lives she had taken – it all haunted her. She had sought solace in isolation, hoping to find peace, to come to terms with the darkness that lingered within her.
But the whispers followed her even here. Wanheda, the Commander of Death. The fear in the voices, the relentless pursuit of the clans, the knowledge that even Azgeda sought her capture – it was a constant reminder of the consequences of her actions. She had heard stories from Lexa, of the Ice Nation Queen, Nia, who had kidnapped and murdered her lover. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Clarke's hand instinctively went to the dagger strapped to her thigh, a gift from Lexa all those years ago. She remembered the intensity in Lexa's gaze, the unspoken emotions that had passed between them. The dagger, adorned with Heda's emblem and Lexa's name engraved on the blade, was a tangible reminder of their bond.
With a sigh, Clarke saddled Jack, leading him out of the cave. She meticulously concealed the entrance, obscuring it with branches and rocks, ensuring her sanctuary remained hidden. Looking up at the sky, she closed her eyes, letting the breeze wash over her. A sense of finality settled over her. It was time to face her past, to return to the world she had left behind.
Taking a deep breath, Clarke patted Jack's flank. "Ready, boy?" she murmured. He nickered in response, his warm breath against her cheek. Together, they stepped out into the sunlight, leaving the shadows of the past behind. The journey back to civilization, to her friends, to Lexa, had begun.
- Page Break -
News in Arkadia traveled like wildfire, especially when it concerned the legendary Wanheda. The whispers started subtly, a ripple of excitement spreading through the marketplace, the mess hall, the training grounds. Bellamy's group had returned from their search with news of Clarke – a tangible sign, a beacon of hope after years of agonizing uncertainty.
The news reached Abby as she was tending to a young grounder with a sprained ankle. A surge of adrenaline shot through her, a mix of disbelief and elation. "Jackson, you're in charge," she barked, already halfway out the door. "I need to see Bellamy."
Years had etched their mark on Abby. Strands of grey streaked her hair, wrinkles lined her face, and the sleepless nights spent worrying about Clarke had taken their toll. Yet, the fire in her eyes, the unwavering determination that had always defined her, remained undimmed. Motherhood had softened her edges, the twins she shared with Marcus a constant source of joy, but it hadn't slowed her down. She had embraced the Grounder ways, training alongside them, her body leaner and stronger than ever before.
She rushed towards Raven's workshop, her heart pounding with anticipation. Bursting through the door, she interrupted a heated discussion between Bellamy, Octavia, and Raven.
"What's this I hear about Clarke?" she demanded, her voice breathless.
The three exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and relief on their faces. Bellamy stepped forward, holding up the drawing Clarke had left behind.
"She's alive, Abby," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "She left us this."
Abby's eyes widened as she took in the detailed sketch, recognizing each face with a pang of longing. Tears welled up, blurring her vision. Clarke was alive. After all these years, after all the heartache and despair, their Clarke was alive.