Chapter Text
Prologue:
Darkness before light.
Relief before pain.
Stars exploded behind her eyelids and she forced them to open only to blink them harshly. The light that pierced them was too white, unlike anything she had witnessed. As if the harsh snows of her homeland had gained their own luminescence.
And then the pain hit, centered around her head but radiated down her bones to her feet. It wouldn't have been her first head wound much less injury - she was too used to pain anyways - but this seemed different. Every twitch and involuntary movement seemed to heighten the pain she felt belatedly, her thoughts sluggish and reflected in her movements.
Her voice whimpered against her will as she tried and failed to open her eyes again despite the harsh snow-light. Beside her, she felt hurried steps echo through the floor much easier than she would have dirt or wood but it sounded much different than footsteps on stone would have.
Then a hand was running through her hair she now realized was untied from it's usual ponytail and a voice, motherly and nurturing, was whispering at her to calm her. Another hand, this one rough and much too large to be anything but beastial, took her own hand and held it tight.
"Easy, Clarke," a voice different from the motherly one said. It most likely belonged to the one holding her hand. "You're safe; just try to keep still."
It took her a second for the words to settle in her mind and she stilled once they did. But not because the male voice said so.
But because her name wasn't Clarke.
After a second of still silence she tried to open her eyes again, now more than ever sure that she was dreaming. And deeply hoping she wasn't. Nothing good had ever come from Dreams for her; they all eventually turned into Nightmares.
Her eyes burned as she opened them to the snow-light before she immediately turned towards the kind, soothing voice that had been whispering assurances into her ear. She was a pretty woman with brown hair with streaks of pale blonde and brown eyes. A smile blossomed on the woman's face as she met her eyes.
"Hey, sleepy head," the woman whispered. "You gave us quite a scare there for a while."
Scare? Us?
Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, she let her head roll to look at her other side where a rather handsome man sat, his hands in hers. His face was square where the woman's was angular, his hair a dirty brown, and eyes a deep blue. He gave her a relieved smile though it seemed to dim when her expression didn't change.
"Abby?" The man said, not taking his eyes off of her. "Something's not right. Clarke, baby, say something. Anything."
She swallowed, unsure, but began.
"What-"
She had to stop, her jaw clenching.
That wasn't her voice either. It was young. Too young. Near childlike. And it lacked the heavy accent that she had picked up as a result of being around her mentor for so long, though her grammar had always been better than his despite his influence. Her tongue moved in a way unfamiliar to her and it took everything she had to stay still and calm. Her panic would do nothing but put her in danger and throw her skills out the window.
Forcing herself to take a steady breath, she continued to ask her question.
"What happened?" The young voice that spoke from her mouth asked. There. At the end, the voice had taken on a bit of familiarity. Not heavily, no, but enough to bring her a small comfort. It didn't seem like it brought the two at her bedside any comfort, however.
"All types of side effects come from head traumas," the woman - Abby - said to the man. "There have been recorded instances where someone could start speaking languages they didn't even know. Even strokes could cause accent changes. It's rare but not unusual, especially in a developing mind, Jake."
Abby the Woman grabbed her hand, seeking her eyes. "What's the last thing you remember, Clarke?"
Her eyes scrunched involuntarily as she sought her memories of the last things she saw. Before the snow-light and the pounding pain in her head - the snow-light, which she now saw, was spread throughout the entire room which was made to look like a steel trap without bars. By her bedside, next to Abby the Woman, was a ringing machine giving a sound unlike any bell she ever heard while a line rose and fell on a pane of black glass. Next to Jake the Man was a thin metal pike of which a floating shape of water was held - no, not floating. The water which was clearer than any lake or pond she had ever seen was being held by a covering she could see through.
It amazed her as well as reminded her that this could be nothing more than a hysterical delusion in her throes of death.
Death.
Yes, she was dead. But she'd been that way a long time. How long was mystery to her as time had no prevalence in that hell of her own making. But that death had no other effect than to assuage her guilt. It was her second death that brought forth more. That evoked the harsh feelings that had ruled her during her tenure as both prisoner and guard.
Her second death would have been more honorable than the first, if she still held some belief in honor and disgrace. If that belief hadn't died the day she threw beloved weapon away from her in disgust. But her second death brought out a feeling of peace, in the end. After that, it had been nothingness until she woke up to the snow-light.
"D-dark?" She said haltingly. "Some pain and…" Here she had to gather her thoughts. She was 'Clarke' to them. How did she explain to these strange people that she wasn't who they thought her to be? She didn't know them. She didn't-
"Urgh!" Her vision blackened as her eyes slammed closed and her hands flew up to her head as images swam on the forefront of her mind. She saw through eyes that weren't hers as she ran with a body that wasn't hers with a dark-skinned boy she didn't recognize but was sure (not) she held in high esteem. The hall was much like the metal cage, with snow-lights lining the ceiling instead of the wall lamps she was used to. (Not) Her feet carried her swiftly, (not) her heart beating thunderously as laughter bubbled up from (not) her throat. Then the floor rocked from beneath and (not) she was thrown to the side as a room (not) she had passed burst into fire.
"Fire," she gasped, looking at concerned brown eyes. Both Jake and Abby had all of their attention focused on her. "S- I was running," she continued, careful. "I was laughing and I passed a door, there was fire… and there was Nothing." Frowning, she asked Jake the Man, "I was with someone, I think. Is he okay?"
"Wells is fine, Clarke," Jake the Man answered. "He was farther from the blast than you and was thrown farther from it. You were the only one really hurt."
"You cracked your head against the opposite wall," Abby the Woman said as she shared a glance with Jake the Man. "It was… It was touch and go there for a while. We were so afraid that we were going to lose you, Clarke."
Tears had developed in those brown eyes and she wasn't sure how to comfort Abby the Woman. Jake the Man came to the rescue instead, moving quickly and quietly over to the left side to wrap an arm around the distraught woman's shoulders.
"Why don't we let her sleep," Jake the Man suggested. "You're probably tired, Clarke; we'll come back first thing in the morning to see when we can get you out of here. I know how much you hate hospitals," he said with a sardonic grin.
"Alright," she whispered, unable to say anything else. Her mind was a mess and she wasn't sure when she was going to wake up in the Nightmare again.
She very nearly startled as Jake the Man brought his face down to hers and kissed her forehead in a way that felt like something she had forgotten. It hit her then, that Jake the Man was Jake the Father of the one they call Clarke and Abby the Woman was Abby the Mother. His lips warm on her forehead caused her to close her eyes, savoring the affection she hadn't felt since she was a child. The man who took her in, her mentor, was too distant for her to look up to as a father figure.
With her eyes closed, it was easy enough to fall back into the nothingness called slumber. In the last moments of consciousness, she hoped for darkness. Instead she lived as thirteen year old Clarke Griffin, daughter of Councilwoman and the Head of Medical, Abigail 'Abby' Griffin, and Senior General Engineer, Jake Griffin. Clarke Griffin, the fifth generation of the ARK, a collection of space stations orbiting a radiation soaked Earth. Clarke Griffin, the Doctor's Apprentice, one of the Privileged.
No longer would she be who she was. No longer would she be a dead woman seeking penance for her crimes. No longer was she bound to the Nightmare, to the Elder God of the Sea Kos and its Orphaned Child.
No. Lady Maria of the Astral Clock Tower, apprentice of Gehrman the First Hunter, was gone.
She was free to be… Clarke.
She was free.