I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds

I do not own the 100, just this story and the plot for this story.

Light footsteps echoed the silent halls of the Heda's tower, so light that Clarke would swear that the only sound in the halls was the thundering of her heartbeat. The flickering flames of the torches adorning the walls casting a foreboding shadow, tingles at the back of her neck screaming warnings but Clarke was too distracted to listen to her screaming instincts. Clarke was too distracted to notice the lack of guards in the hall and the lack of noise that hints to danger. But alas, Clarke was lost in thought about Lexa and what they had shared not even an hour ago. The passion and love that flowed between their bodies and souls, the love in their eyes and the sounds they made. Clarke swears that she was an idiot to waste so much time being angry with Lexa and hiding her feelings from her when she could have had this passion and love instead.

Shaking her head at her stupidity, Clarke absently notices that whilst she was lost in her head, she had arrived at her room. Clarke's room that for some reason was open. Furrowing her brow in concern, Clarke's hand instinctively flew to her belt where she keeps the knife that Lexa gave her and cursed when she realized that she left it in Lexa's room. Finally, noticing the silence in the halls and the lack of guards, Clarke debated on turning back to get help because this wasn't right. This hall was never without guards and Clarke always shuts and locks her door. Thought her decision is taken from her when she spies a familiar figure gagged and bound to a chair through the crack in the door.

"Murphy?"

Disregarding her screaming instincts and the stupidity of entering what was so obviously a trap, Clarke ran to Murphy to untie him. It looked like her fellow delinquent had been tortured before her arrival. Murphy's left eye was swollen shut and his right eye was bruised, clouded over in pain and fear. The left side of his head had a trail of blood leaking from his hairline, Clarke absently diagnosed him to have a possible hairline fracture and a concussion. There was blood dripping from his mouth, so there was internal bleeding as well which wasn't good. Clarke couldn't discern any other injuries with him being tied to the chair and since they are still in danger, she went to remove the gag in mouth to ask him of any other injuries, when an entirely unwelcome voice interrupted her.

"Please don't do that," the entirely too calm voice of Titus rang from behind her. Seeing the look of fear in Murphy's eyes and knowing that the boy is afraid of few things. Clarke surmised that Titus is responsible for his injuries. Gritting her teeth in anger at Titus for doing this to her friend, especially when he damn well knows that this was against Lexa's orders and therefore undermining her authority. Giving Murphy what she hoped was a reassuring smile, although she knows she failed when he seemed to look even more freaked out then before, she turned to face a most unexpected sight.

Titus had a gun in his hands. Titus, the man who seemed hellbent on preserving tradition and whose tradition was that to so much as touch a gun was to not be Trikru. Titus whom believed in his traditions to a religious and zealous degree was disregarding his beloved traditions by holding a gun, pointing at someone even not just holding it. Pointing it at her.

Shocked, Clarke could do nothing but slowly raise her shaking hands above her head, an instinctive reaction to the sight of a gun that had been drilled into all Skaikru's heads since the time we could understand what a gun was. Moving slowly as to not set him off, she slowly stood, subconsciously shielding Murphy from Titus and the gun.

"Titus? What is this about?" Clarke hated that her voice shook displaying her naked fear to the man who preaches emotions make you weak. Well, that love makes you weak. But we all know that any emotion could be weakness. Clarke would rather not give him the satisfaction of giving him any further ammunition to use against her. Regardless of the gun, Clarke had hope of surviving this, so should she survive she would rather he had nothing else to use against her.