Hi guys, so I'm new to the world of The 100/Clexa fan fiction, but I am excited to take this step by uploading this story that I have been planning for some time and make my own attempt at fixing the mess that Jroth made.

This story is set immediately after the Season 2 finale when Clarke leaves Camp Jaha. Warning; there are elements of this story that are quite dark, but I can promise that I will give you all the happy ending that we deserved.

So I hope that you all enjoy reading this and will hopefully let me know how I've done!

Oh, and I own nothing, because if I did, Season 3 would have actually been good and Lexa would still be alive!

Chapter 1

The sun hung low in the sky, casting dark golden rays over the forest. A gentle breeze glided through the trees, whispering through branches and rustling leaves. The world seemed somewhat peaceful, but peace was a foreign concept, it was nothing more than a illusion. A storm was always lurking, waiting for the right time to rip apart the calm.

Deep within the forest, a storm raged within the broken heart of Clarke Griffin. The blonde haired girl walked through the woods with no sense of purpose or destination in mind. She was barely even aware of her surroundings, allowing her feet to carry her in whichever direction that they decided to take her.

A day had almost passed since the blonde survivor had saved her friend's - her people - by wiping out an entire civilisation and all it took was a simple pull of a lever. It took one simple act to kill nearly four hundred people – men, women, and children – by burning them all to death with radiation poisoning in order to save less than fifty of her own.

Merely hours had passed since Clarke left Camp Jaha and her people behind without so much as a goodbye, but she continued to walk even as her feet and legs turned numb. Hunger gnawed at her stomach causing her body to grow heavy with fatigue, but Clarke paid no attention to her physical needs. The war had ended, but a new war was raging within the depths of Clarke's fragile mind.

Even as she and her people walked away from Mount Weather, victorious in their battle, her heart, and mind refused to calm. Clarke did not know peace, war had broken her wide open, and she was tumbling deeper into the darkness. Within only a couple of months since landing on the ground, Clarke had caused nearly a thousand deaths.

She burned three hundred grounders alive during the battle at the dropship, assisted in killing two hundred and fifty grounders at TonDC by failing to warn them about the missile, as well as murdering four hundred of the mountain men by poisoning them with radiation. She slit a Grounders throat in cold blood and she failed to save Anya after they finally came to a mutual agreement. Atom and Finn were killed by her own hand, and Wells, Charlotte and others of the hundred died because she failed to protect them. They were all dead because of her, and each life was forever imprinted into her mind. They screamed inside of her head, demanding justice. Blood must have blood.

With the weight of their deaths heavy upon Clarke's heart, she had to walk away once her people were safe within the walls of Camp Jaha. How could she possibly look them in the eye without seeing the faces of everyone she killed just to ensure their survival? How was she supposed to mourn those they lost when others were mourning the lives that she took away?

No, she could not celebrate their survival, because a piece of Clarke died along with the Mountain. She was crumbling beneath the weight of her actions whilst the screams of the dead echoed throughout her mind.

I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Clarke walked away and did not stop until her mind finally shut down and her body moved on autopilot. Her surroundings were nothing more than a blur as she passed and her senses had dulled, making the blonde completely unaware of the presence that followed her from a distance. Clarke was not normally so careless, but if danger came to face her now, she would welcome it.

The sun had disappeared by the time Clarke finally collapsed after her foot caught on a tree root. She hit the ground face first, not even bothering to throw her arms out to break the fall and she was numb to the pain that erupted through her from the rough landing. Despite her screaming muscles, Clarke did not even so much as moan as she rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest, nor did she acknowledge the dark figure that loomed over her crumpled body as her eyes drifted shut, and she surrendered to the darkness.

…

The scent of burning flesh filled Clarke's nostrils and it took everything in her not to vomit at the stench.

She was standing in the middle of the mess hall, surrounded by hundreds of lifeless bodies. Men, women, children, each with their skin covered from head to toe in angry burns and blisters. Unrecognisable faces were twisted in unimaginable agony, mouths open from screaming their last breath. Most lay crumpled on the floor after spending their last remaining seconds writhing in pain, or trying to make one last desperate attempt to escape the radiation or move closer to a loved one. Others were collapsed over the tables, faces buried in the plates of what they did not know was to be their last meal.

Their lifeless eyes were all trained on Clarke in silent accusation, and she slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming out apologies as their lips began to move.

"This is your fault," they screamed.

"Why did you do this?"

"Murderer."

"I'm sorry," Clarke sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I didn't want to do this, but I had no choice."

"You killed us all."

"You will pay."

"Blood must have blood."

"I'm sorry," Clarke cried desperately, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"You will pay."

"Blood must have blood."

An agonising scream tore from Clarke's lips and she clamped her hands against her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the voices, but they only grew louder and angrier. The noise sliced into her skull, vibrating through her brain until it was ready to explode. She turned on her heel, ready to run as far away as possible, but her foot caught on a body and she fell in amongst them.

They were upon Clarke within seconds, screaming bloody cries of revenge and reaching out to tear at her body. Terror dug deep into Clarke's bones as she sobbed and shrieked, trying desperately to fight them off, but there were too many. Teeth, hands, and nails ripped through Clarke's skin, but her scream could barely be heard over the constant chanting.

"Blood must have blood!"

"Blood must have blood!"

…

Clarke jerked violently, a scream ripping from her lips as she bolted upright, clawing at her blood soaked clothes. Every inch of her body roared with agony and Clarke sobbed as she ripped off her jacket, trying to find the wounds as she subconsciously fell into healer mode. Her fingers probed her arms and legs, and she frowned when she could not locate any scratch or bite marks, but she was almost positive that blood coated her skin like an extra layer of flesh. Clarke whimpered as she held her hand out in front of her in confusion, but there was no sign of blood, just the warm glow of the campfire against her skin.

Clarke froze, her heart thundering against her chest.

She did not remember building a fire…

The bushes behind Clarke suddenly exploded; her head was ripped back by a rough tug on her hair and something cold and sharp dug into her throat before she even had a chance to react.

"Fool," a familiar voice snarled in Clarke's ear. "Do you realise how easily I could have killed you?"

A mixture of emotions flooded through Clarke all at once, overwhelming her completely until she could do nothing but laugh at the reality of it all. She did not recognise the sound that left her lips; it was broken and haunted, a sound that no human should ever be capable of making. Perhaps she was not human, only a monster was capable of doing all of the horrible things she had done. She closed her eyes, images of the dead flashing through her mind and she knew that this was the only way to escape it all. If this was justice, she was okay with that.

Clarke arched her neck, pushing her throat against the blade until it cut into her skin, blood spilling from the wound. She welcomed the pain; it was the least she deserved before her overdue demise. Her blood would pay the debt.

"Do it," she demanded, awaiting the relief that only death could bring.

Oh, so who do you think has followed Clarke? Well, you will have to wait and find out in Chapter 2!

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, it's a little short but they will eventually become longer. If you are feeling generous, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts and opinions!