Adapting to the Ground (a The 100 fanfiction)

Polis

    “That will be decided later,” Anya assured, leading them down a street that was next to the impressive tower. Natalie nodded, then took Ana into her arms as she reached for her, settling the sleepy toddler over her chest. The little girl nuzzled her face into her guardian's neck and sighed.

    The group was led to neighborhood of sorts, like a gated community Natalie once saw in a movie back on the Ark. There was an actual fence around it, with two gates on either side. They entered the community and Anya looked around, her stoic features at least relaxed. She directed Drane, Laina and Talia to  a small, paint chipped house with a covered porch. Then she led Natalie and the children to a slightly bigger house.

    The house Natalie is taken to is a dark wooden cabin almost, slabs of wood sitting like patches on parts of the outside walls. There was a bit of an alcove over the door –which was surprisingly still intact–  and a slab of broken concrete sitting as a tiny porch in front of it. There was one window on the right side of the door, but some sort of covering blocked anyone from looking inside. Anya opened the door and stepped aside, letting the little family in to look around. To the direct left of the door stood a rack, which Anya mumbled was for their weapons. On the right sat a brazier, ready to be lit, with a few chairs surrounding it. A few lumps of fur sat around it as well, as seats, and a pile of dry wood sat in the corner. Natalie wandered past an opening, noticing a set of stairs on the right and a storage space on the left full of furs and blankets. She decided continue through the first floor before exploring further. In the back was a sort of kitchen. Counters and shelves sat against the walls, and a pantry stood in the back right corner. A large table with eight chairs sat in the middle, dark wood gleaming. She nodded and moved back to the stairs where the other two children had disappeared to and climbed them carefully, trying not to jostle the child that now slept in her arms. Upstairs to the left she found a bathroom, where a tub sat empty and a shelf held oils and soaps. A chair sat in a corner next to a smaller stool. A table held a large flat bowl and a pitcher of water. Past the bathroom further left was a bedroom with two beds and two trunks. Natalie and Bran were already arguing over who would get which side of the room. Natalie shook her head and carried Ana out and to the other side of the staircase, where she found two more bedrooms, each with a bed and a trunk. She laid Ana down in the smaller room, tucking her into the furs snuggly, before going to the room the older two had chosen.

    “Be quiet, Bran, Noa. Ana is sleeping,” she shooshed them, and they quieted down. “Noa gets the bed closest to the door.”

    Noah looks smug for a second until Natalie cuffs her lightly over the head. “Ow!” She ducks and covers her head, glaring at the redhead.

    “Don't look so smug, yongon. This is so you can leave quickly without waking Bran,” Natalie scolds, crossing her arms. She makes her way back down the stairs to find Anya still at the doorway. “Thank you, Onya.”

    “You should thank the Commander. It is she who arranged this for you,” Anya smirks. She saunters to the pale woman and leans close, her breath ghosting over her cheek. “Now you have your own bed, we do not need to go to the woods.”

    Natalie turns as red as her hair, but smirks and leans up to whisper, “only if the children stay in their beds.” She leaves the house laughing, heading to start unpacking their things from the horses.

Earth: February 16, 2149 (Lexa's Ascension Day)

    The Tower swarmed with people, all gathered to celebrate the fateful day Leksa became their Commander. Music played for all to hear, alcohol flowed like water, and a feast was laid before them to eat as they pleased. The Commander herself sat on her throne, a small smoke on her lips as the children of Polis put on a reenacting of her Conclave, their tiny voices yelling out the story while they swung wooden swords and spears. Leksa had given a speech, commemorating the past Commanders and praising their accomplishments. There was a sort of ceremony, where a group of children (‘Natblida’ they were called) were also honoured as potential Commanders. They stood in a line near the Heda's throne, looking proud and fierce. Natalie ached for them when she heard that most of them would be killed at the next Conclave; half of the children were as little as Bran, if not younger.