Chapter Text
I’ll always be with you….
Clarke had never felt pain, not like this. Watching Lexa die in her arms, watching her heart - that somehow managed to live outside of her body - lose the light in her forest green eyes.. No, Clarke had never felt that kind of pain. Suddenly her entire body was screaming at her in protest; protest in every blink of her tired eyes, in every breathe forced into her over exhausted lungs, in every movement of her heavy limbs. Clarke fell to her knees, arms, hands and clothes covered in black blood, and she let out a choked sob. She forced her body to reach forward, to close the eyes that were looking lifelessly back at her, and she swallowed the scream when every movement felt like knives piercing her skin one hundred times over.
“Wanhed-” Titus’s words were cut off by her hand wrapped firmly around his throat. She could smell his fear, oh could she smell it, and she reveled in it. Every part of her body was screaming in protest, tears falling rapidly down her face, but it dulled just the slightest amount by her conviction; he killed Lexa, he tried to kill her and in his incompetence, he had killed her heart, her life, her Lexa, her flame.. Clarke would avenge her. Her hand clamped tighter around his throat as a sudden pounding pain radiated through her jaw, she imagined it is how one would feel if someone repeatedly bashed a rock into their face. She screwed her eyes shut and stretched her neck, feeling an odd satisfaction in the little cracks she could hear with every twist and turn.
She vaguely registers Titus trying to fight her grip, but she couldn’t feel his attempts to pry her hand away, she couldn’t feel the way he kicked out at her, she couldn’t feel his nails digging into her arm. No, her body was already thundering - pounding - aching - punishing her for her failure. For failing Lexa, for choosing her people over and over again. The same people who constantly asked her for things no teenage girl should have to give, her very soul laid broken and bare at their feet not once or even twice but so many times that it is now unrecognizable, and instead of gratitude she is faced with judgement, rejection, hatred, anger.
Pathetic. All of them. Pathetic, worthless, weak!
Fangs protrude from her upper and lower jaw and she runs her tongue over them slowly, they’re sharp, dangerous, and they make her feel powerful. She fights the shiver that runs down her spine. The pain is still there but it is dulling, almost like her body only needed to prepare her, but for what she isn’t quite sure.
Without warning she removes her hand and sinks her fangs into the front of his throat, biting down until she tastes hot crimson and ripping back, moaning involuntarily when she hears his throat give way. She smirks as she watches his body fall to the floor, eyes staring at her in shock as his hands try to uselessly stop the bleeding. It takes him only seconds after to die, and Clarke loves every second - wishes it would have lasted longer.
Looking down at her now red and black stained hands, she realizes her fangs aren’t the only change, she has claws protruding from her finger tips, not ridiculously long but sharp enough that she easily could have ripped his throat out with them instead of her mouth, but she doesn’t regret it. She can still feel his blood run down her throat, this time she can’t fight the shiver.
Walking over to Lexa’s lifeless body, she bends down, placing the barest hint of a kiss across her cold lips. “I will avenge you my love.” and she had almost forgot Murphy was in the room - almost except for the intake of breathe he takes when her body is finally facing his direction.
“P-P-Princess..?” He asks shocked and terrified, she can taste his emotions on her tongue, and she is pleasantly surprised to find that his fear dulls the near constant ache.
“I will not harm you Murphy kom Skaikru..” Clarke notices her voice sounds like her except mixed with vessels long since passed, long since tired, and practically seething in want for revenge. “Take your leave, take your Emori if you can find her once more and go where you shall choose. But stay away from Arkadia, for when I am through they will all be dead, and so will anyone else who opposed my flame.”
With that, Clarke yanked the doors open, smirking at the flinch the slam caused from the boy before making her way to her room - she washed off the blood, and changed into a pair of dark black jeans with a white blouse, black boots and leather jacket. She couldn’t help but notice her fangs and claws also came with glowing red eyes, along with tattoos running up and down both arms. They resembled black veins with thorns hugging her arms like a boa constrictor, across her chest are the words “you’re already dead.”
The clothes Lexa had specially made for her fit perfectly, and she didn’t fight the anger when it threatened to consume her - no she would embrace it - and they would all die.