The 100-Season 3

The Gesture

• Hello everyone...
I just want to thank you for still being here reading this even after I'd abandoned this fanfic for a long time. I bet you hate me, but I had a really busy and stressful past year and needed to take more time to myself to help sort things out. Life is still stressful and probably will be for quite some time, haha, but I'm really going to try and finish this fanfiction and would be really happy if you'd continue to support it! (My writing was really bad when I started this fic and I still cringe when I read past chapters so please excuse it! >~<)
Once again, I'm so sorry. Please enjoy this longer chapter.
Love,
JustDrum
xoxo •

Clarke opens the wardrobe and makes a noise of surprise at what she sees; black, silver and white outfits occupy the space, drawers at the bottom containing underwear and pyjamas. It looks too... Royal. Too royal for her. She gathers all the clothes in a bundle in her arms and sorts through each one, deciding which ones are actually decent to wear. The black jumpsuits are the most practical, although they have barely any coverage of her back, the material leaving it bare right down to the small of her back. There's dresses too, made from the most beautiful shimmering velvets and materials that slide smoothly over her skin. A selection of cloaks are hung inside too and she runs her fingers over the soft fur as she replaces each outfit carefully.
Leaving the drawers for later examination, Clarke answers the door swiftly to Maiä. "Ah, Heda, you are required to start preparing for dinner, please." The small woman bows low and scurries off, leaving Clarke staring after her in confusion. Heda?
~~~
Wearing the black jumpsuit and flat shoes, Clarke pauses before she leaves. A weapon. Grabbing the miniature poker from the fireplace, she rips a strip of her old shirt and ties it securely to the outside of her leg, hidden by the baggy clothing, with easy access if needed. Now reassured, Clarke slips out of the room and heads along the passageway she's seen Maiä take. It's good practice, she reminds herself. Memorising this place will come in handy.
"What do you think you're doing?" A loud voice laced with authority makes her jump and turn as one of Taaran's guards matches towards her.
"Well? Explain yourself!" he barks, taking hold of her arm and holding fast. "I'm... Clarke from Skai Cru! Let go of me!" Her free hand creeps down to the little weapon she has hidden.
"Skai Cru?" The guard scoffs. "Skai Cru is not welcome here! I shall deliver you to the Leader." Clarke squirms as she's pulled away in the opposite direction of which she was heading.
Soon, they reach some large doors engraved with the words 'Jus Drein Jus Daun.' The guard raps smartly on the smooth oak and the doors click open, revealing a spacious room furnished with dark furs, lit by candles and fires flickering in torches. Clarke's eyes adjust to the dimmer room and are drawn to Taaran's figure seated at the head of the table, suddenly alert and watching the scene before him with growing annoyance.
"Kya? What is the meaning of this?" In a flash, he's up out of the chair and by Clarke's side, a hand placed gently on her elbow. The guard, Kya, smartly lets go of her arm quickly, confusion practically radiating off him.
"Sir?"
"This is Clarke. The Commander Lexa brought her here earlier today."
In an instant, Kya is stooped in a bow. "Heda! Forgive me!"
'There it is again!'
Taaran looks to Clarke. "Oh.. You're... Forgiven...?" she says, uncomfortable and wishing Kya would just stand up.
"Thank you, Heda." He swiftly bows to Taaran and then he too hurries off.
"My... Deepest apologies, Clarke. How is your arm?" Taaran's fingers flutter gently over the painful skin, like a whisper of air. She shivers involuntarily and nods. "It's fine. Nothing I can't handle."
Taaran guides her to the table and pulls out a chair for her at the left side of his seat. Clarke sits and he pushes her in.
"You can handle a lot, it would seem" he says, returning to his own seat. Clarke raises her eyebrows and leans forward slightly. "Lexa told you about the war?"
"The Commander has only shared the... Necessary information, I can assure you."
"Oh? What would that information be?"
Taaran frowns for a split second, but almost immediately it's replaced by that small smile again. "Curious. I like that." He surveys the rim of his empty wine glass thoughtfully. "The Commander has spoke of your Healing abilities, your strength, ability to make quick decisions and justify them to your people when they test you, which they appear to do quite often."
"A level-headed person always makes sure they know what's in store for them. I credit my people for that."
The thick red of the wine pools at the bottom of her glass as Taaran pours it and Clarke is reminded strongly of blood.
"Quite rightly so, Clarke" he smiles.
For a moment Clarke ponders on being the hero and refusing to eat and drink, but scolds herself. 'That would be more than stupid. You need all the strength you can get'.
And so she takes a small sip of the impossibly red liquid as plates of food are delivered to the table and deposited in front of them. "How do you have this much food?"
"My people are excellent hunters, scavengers, salvagers. They are the reason this place exists."
"So why wouldn't you help other clans? Why wouldn't you help Skai Cru? My people were starving and dying!"
Taaran picks his knife and fork up. "We struggled too, at the start. If we had helped people, helped others, we would have failed miserably in surviving. You must make hard decisions."
"But look at all the food and water you have here!"
"Clarke! If we give anything to other clans everybody will want some! We cannot afford to be a charity for anyone! The clans that we are allied with here, we understand each other. We will fight with and protect them, but they recognise that they need to work and find their own way in life. We are independently united, allied."
He starts to cut the large piece of meat on the platter into slices and dishes some onto Clarke's plate.
"I understand that you can't give to everyone. But if I am to become Heda here, I would expect this clan to aid Skai Cru. They are hungry and tired. We have no shelters that are good enough."
"Of course we would help. Wouldn't have a choice anyway."
Clarke frowns, "What?"
"Heda's are the most respected Leaders. The only other person who can overrule you, is me." Taaran smiles again, the scars on the side of his face stretching. "Now, lets eat. You must be hungry. Tomorrow, your tour of our land will begin."
•••••
Bellamy is up before the sun, his sleep troubled and disturbed by his racing thoughts. He waits longer to wake Octavia and Lincoln, heart aching at the sight of them together.
There's minimal food for the journey so they ration it out, and start their non-stop walking all over again.
The forest is deadly quiet and puts Bellamy on edge. He shivers and readjusts the grip on his gun, palms clammy. "Wait, stop." Lincoln breaks the long silence between them. He approaches a large tree to their rights and that's when Bellamy spots a symbol carved deep into the bark. Further up the tree, the ragged remainder of a clan's flag hangs from a branch. "What clan symbol is that?" Octavia pipes up whilst Bellamy raises his gun and slowly scans their surroundings through the sight.
"I can't tell... The bark, it's too weathered." Lincoln traces the symbol and feels the gnarls on the tree.
"It could mean that we're entering this clan's territory, or exiting."
"That is, if this clan even still exists. That flag looks decades old" Octavia notes. Bellamy curses from behind them. "What?"
He points up high to a spot behind them. There, further past the tree symbol and just visible through the thick foliage is a rotting body hanging by its neck with thick, dark rope.
"Yeah, I think we're entering."