AN: A slow start, I think, but I want to do a little time skipping.

Hundred Days till the End

Day 100, continued, Polis, Evening

With both Nathan and Charlotte tended to, and the rest of Skaikru largely unharmed, Clarke cleaned up. Washing with left-over, and now cold, water, she hurried out of her now stained clothes. At Charlotte's hopeful encouragement, she slipped into the gleaming golden dress with a sigh. Her little apprentice never asked about the scars, and by now her and Nathan both had seen them many times. But standing in front of the murky, old mirror, Clarke's eyes were locked on them. There was no way that wouldn't draw more attention than she wanted. With a grimace, she dug through the clothes provided by Lexa until she found something that might could pass. Thinner than could be considered practical for riding, or even walking much, and too tight to do much of anything in, the gleaming black leather leggings were something she'd overlooked till now as frivolous. And truly, they were. But sliding them on, with difficulty, Clarke assessed how they looked in the mirror, and decided it would work. The gorgeous gown, only one she'd ever worn, did not have to be completely abandoned.

"You sure you don't want to go downstairs? Costia's aunt has turned the entire ground floor into an infirmary rather than have everyone carried to the center." urged Clarke, lingering in the doorway.

Rolling his eyes, Nathan shook his head.

"I've finally got rid of my dad. Go. I just want to sleep for a week. It's just a scratch, seriously." announced the boy in her bed grouchily.

"I'll stay." piped in Charlotte from the sitting area. The young second was now dressed in clean leggings, and an overly large tunic that let the thick, tan bandages over her shoulder peek out. Her feet were up on the table near her still steaming mug of tea, and she was snuggled down with a thick wool blanket, looking rather more content than seemed possible after such a night.

Throwing a smile towards the younger girl, Clarke backed down.

"Just got to make an appearance, alright? Then I'm coming right back up." assured the weary leader, trying, and falling just short of, sounding confident in that plan.

A last reluctant glance at them both, she turned to leave.

"Look, stay by Wells or Blake. Either of them." blurted out Nathan.

Without looking back, she titled her head slightly to the side as she considered his words.

"Surely we've met our quota for disaster till sunrise at least." joked Clarke halfheartedly.

Night had fully set- frigidly cold, though few seemed to notice. There was singing in the market square, and dancing in the streets. Those rough flutes that Rock Line brought, high and pretty. So many different drums from the other clans, all sizes and shapes, scattered here and there. Wine ordered by Heda flowed freely from massive, heavy barrels. Dozens of odd tables, set together, covered in food- dripping, roasted meats smelling of rosemary and thyme, butter drenched breads still warm, sweet fruits drizzled with honey...

Descending from the blood soaked tower, where the injured and the dead alike had been carried from Lexa's hall, down into the open air celebration was enough to make Clarke's head spin from disorientation. The injured were being tended to by a swarm of healers, but Clarke wouldn't be able to relax until she was able to rejoin the efforts. Guards bellowed for quiet, until most everyone was staring at the foot of the tower, where Heda stood. Lexa's smirk had turned smug in the seconds she'd had to observe her people's good spirits, and she raised her arms proudly.

"We welcome the fourteenth clan!"

The people's bated breathe seemed to expel as one in a roar of thrill- boisterous from the wine, well fed at Lexa's command, they met the news eagerly.

Grateful, at least, that grounders weren't given to the long speeches the Ark had boasted, Clarke tried to melt off into the crowd once Lexa had finished her announcement. Even as she wound throuh the crowd, though, she felt as if she could still feel her mother's eyes- horrified, heartbroken, furious, upon her, heavy as standing with the cross-hairs of a rifle's sight.

"We raised them to be this way." murmured Marcus Kane.

Abby watched her daughter, her pride and joy, sashay through the crowds of violent, primitive people, seemingly at ease, as if this was simply a gathering up on the Ark. She missed the moment, though, when Clarke circled around, and hurried back into the tower.

100 days till the End

After the ugly turn at breakfast, her mother with tears washing her face even as she raged ending the meal before Clarke had managed to get more than two bites in, Clarke seemed to trip over an Arkadian no matter where she went.

Even the guards' training yards were not a safe refuge. The entire lot of Arkadians uncertainly appeared, looking rather lost, as Clarke had sat on the ground, a safe distance back, as her people sparred with Lexa's. To the far left, Wells was calmly sparring with the woman, Suri, that Lexa had introduced Clarke to only days before. To the right, Bellamy was more intensely facing a Sandakru man that Clarke thought she'd heard someone call Jorum. Beyond them, Harper was cheerfully sparring with Zavian of Glowing Forest, while Monroe was aggressively working with a Rock Line guard Clarke didn't know even by sight, and she didn't recognize Lincoln's partner either.

Directly in front of her, though, after it had taken a moment to recognize him with dirt obscuring his prominent scar, Octavia's opponent was Wade of Blue Cliffs.

The Arkadians, the others hesitantly following the most curious, Marcus Kane, formed a huddled row near Clarke. Jaha's eyes were locked to his son, but the others were hastily sweeping the yard with wary disdain on their faces.

The dark haired nightblood was not sheathing her claws- blood, only red, was already smearing across them both- his face, her hands...

"It's only been three months since you landed." whispered Kane to Clarke, looking quickly from the sparring match that was swiftly progressing into an actual fight, to the blonde girl at his side, and back again.

Though the blonde knew that Octavia had already gone two rounds with others this morning, she was beating the tall, broad grounder with a vicious energy that belied the previous exertions.

"Octavia is not the girl under the floor anymore, or the only surviving second-born from the Ark. Not even just our ambassador. That's Skaikru's champion there."

That week, with her mother in the tower, Clarke found reasons not to be anywhere around it. This meant avoiding her own people, too, but that wasn't enough to change her mind. Out in the cold sunlight of the city, she wandered. Breathing in the city air- mingled scents of fish cooking, rust, and sweat, and so much else she couldn't identify Even this, she would miss, during their time under the ground. At all times, just beyond her elbow, trod a shadow. This week, it was Caliban, for Nathan and Charlotte were both, grudgingly, resting, and the rest all occupied with actually important activities, unlike her. She accomplished nothing, in fact. At least, the older Trikru man was a mostly quiet presence. Apart from helpful, sudden comments on which streets to avoid, or spots she might like to see, he allowed her to drift, both her mind, and her feet. Memories of before, and risks still to be dealt with, rose and fell from her thoughts with an oddly detached sense...

Simply exploring a city that was soon to fall to ruins. It was like, Clarke mused as she slowly nibbled on a bit of warm cheese-crusted bread that Caliban had procured from the bakery they stood in front of, being in Rome despite knowing it would soon burn. The cluttered, dirty streets somehow seemed so much more.. alive.

94 days till the end

A knock sounded on her door, and Clarke out called for the person to enter.

Stiffly, Caliban opened the door, but did not enter, remaining in the doorway instead.

"The Arkadian party has left Polis, with a guide to assist them back to their settlement." spoke the gruff man.

"Thank you for letting me know." replied the sky princess with a brief smile.

"Will you return to your camp now?" asked Caliban shortly.

Clarke crossed the room to stand closer to him.

"Tomorrow, I guess. Heda wants to meet today, so I doubt we'd have time to make it home after."

With a short nod, he retreated from her room. The solitude left Clarke to muse, once again, on the surprising visit from Indra late the night before.

Bluntly, hardly closing the door behind herself after being admitted, and utterly ignoring Nathan where he sat, still eating a late dinner, the commander's most trusted general had informed Clarke that the Trikru warrior, nearer Indra's age than Clarke's, would pursue her, if she decided to allow him to do so. Admittedly, though Titus had already revealed this, Clarke wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed at the topic that she would have liked to forget, or that Indra had brought it up. The fierce warrior, one of the greatest she knew, was hardly the person she would have expected a discussion of... romantic variety with. Then again Indra did have a daughter only a little older than Clarke, so perhaps it shouldn't be as shocking.

Flushing, and cursing the nightblood that made it more obvious than her fair skin already would, Clarke had awkwardly said she would consider the issue. With a smirk at the skai prisa's embarrassment, Indra had silently nodded before letting the subject end. Curious if Lexa had known about this, but unwilling to ask, Clarke tried to push the situation out of her head.

93 days till the end

As Clarke walked out of room, leaving Nathan still dressing in the candlelight, on her way to meet Caliban out front of the tower, a sharp call of her name made her pause.

Monty was coming around the corner, waving at her, and she stopped to smile at him sleepily.

"I'm glad I caught you!" he blurted out as soon as he drew close enough to talk.

When she waited for him to continue, he frowned.

"We've missed you this week." admitted her friend, more quietly than before.

She grimaced apologetically, shifting restlessly at the nudge of guilt.

"Sorry, it... was just a bit much. Having my mom here."

Frowning again, though more in concern this time, Monty bit his lip, now uncertain if he wanted to bother her with this... but finally drawing up the nerve...

"Harper wants me to learn how to do tattoos." blurted out Monty, wide-eyed.

Clarke titled her head, unsure of what she was supposed to say about that random bit of information being thrown at her so early in the morning.

"Because the grounders do it." added the Argo boy desperately.

"Uhhh..." hesitated Clarke.

"You could, like, say, that Skaikru doesn't do that. I mean, not all the clans do. Like Azgeda, right?"

Ruffling her brows, she frowned at him.

"Well, I mean, you're right, but Azgeda does facial scarification instead, so I'm not sure that's a... better... example?"

He grimaced.

"Still. You could ban it." insisted the younger Skaikru imploringly.

She shook her head. "You don't have to learn how, but I'm not just going to forbid it. They probably wouldn't listen anyway, and they'd be pissed that I tried to stop them."

His shoulders slumped in disappointment, so she reached over to hug him.

"I'll be back in a few days, ok? I just want to make the ride with Bellamy, and Monroe." she assured him before she took her leave.