Disclaimer: I own nothing. All recognizable characters belong to the CW and Jason Rothenberg.
Warnings/Triggers: Violence, smut, language, possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, gray moral codes, dub-con, drug use.
"Some people out there will do all kinds of unscrupulous tactics to get what they want,
even if it's wrong, as long as it fits their agenda."
A solid 'thwack' filled the room when Clarke landed in a heap across the room. She pushed herself up with a groan, sending a glower Roan's way. Damn, but that hurt. Getting up, she swayed on her feet. Sweat dripped off her forehead, stinging her eyes as it poured off her. Rivets formed, cutting through the dirt and grime that coated her body. Her muscles ached and burned, from the strain of the practice. She wanted to call it quits for the day but refused to give Roan the satisfaction. Blinking the sweat from her eyes she tried to focus on him. On the lesson, he'd been trying to teach her. Aim for the weak points. Knees, face, throat, groin. Use her elbows and legs to strike. Move fast, learn to tuck and roll.
She was still working on the last part, hence being thrown across the room. Her brain felt fuzzy from the exhaustion and strain of being hit over and over again. Blood had dried in various places on her, and she could feel the sting of each scrape and cut that covered her aching body. Glaring at Roan she stumbled towards him, prepared to attack again, even if it meant she would find herself in a heap on the floor yet again.
"Enough!" Bellamy's sharp voice cut through the haze in her mind. Roan stood up straight, holding his hand out to halt Clarke's approach. The two men stared at one another, sizing each other up. Bellamy's jaw ticked with annoyance. He had seen enough, Clarke had been going at this for hours, and had yet to land a true blow against the Azgeda King. While she was sweating, bleeding and panting from exertion Roan was barely out of breath. Clarke was too stubborn to give in, and the King would continue to beat her down until she couldn't get back up.
"We stop when she says. Not you." Roan told him, arching his brow at Bellamy. He stepped closer to Clarke, lifting her chin higher so he could meet her eyes. Her eyes shone with defiance and exhaustion, but still, she held his gaze. Bellamy let out a low snarl and stormed across the room, jerking Clarke behind him.
"I said enough. She can barely stand, much less fight. And she's too damned stubborn to admit it." Bellamy growled at him, keeping Clarke behind him protectively. He pushed down the rush of warmth he felt when she pressed her forehead against his back. Now was not the time to let his emotions gain control. He needed to be clear headed for Clarke, God knows she wasn't thinking clearly.
"Bellamy, no. I can take it. I can take it, I promise." Clarke whispered, trying to move her way between the two men, getting annoyed when Bellamy pushed her back. Sighing in frustration, she pulled away from him, before ducking quickly under his arm. Staring up at Roan she tensed her jaw and nodded.
"I'm ready. Again." She demanded, shifting her body into the proper stance he'd drilled into her head. Feet shoulder width apart, body low, right foot slightly in front of the other. She prepared herself to be thrown across the room yet again and was surprised when Roan simply smiled down at her.
"No. Little Wanheda, as much as it pains me to admit, he's right. You've done well today. We'll recommence tomorrow." Roan told her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stared at her. She was strong this one. He lamented the fact that she had not been born a grounder, more specifically, not born an Azgeda grounder. He would gladly take a woman such as this as his Queen. She was resilient and resourceful. She loved her people fiercely, so much so that she would fight, kill and die for them. It was rare amongst the Sky People. A race that had become ensconced with their own needs and desires, so much that they thought of no one else. But not this one. Not Clarke Griffin, the Wanheda. She wanted them to all be her people.
The only problem he saw within her, was her weakness for the man behind her. Bellamy. She might not openly admit it, but he could tell that she loved him more than any other of her people. More so than even her mother. He didn't doubt that had Alie gotten her hands on him, Clarke would have caved in an instant. He was her weakness. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to see it. She was strong, and yet one man could make her crumble. As he stared into her blue eyes, he found himself wishing that he was her weakness. That he was the one she would go to war for, and lay waste to the Earth for. He knew that if he was, he wouldn't be a stupid as Bellamy.
He would tell her he loved her, cement the bond between them and lay claim to her as his for all the world to see. He was half tempted to already. However, he knew he would have to be patient, and hope that Bellamy screwed up enough to make her question him. Something that didn't seem likely. Perhaps he'd have to make Bellamy mess up. After all, a prize like Clarke was worth fighting for. And he was determined to have her by any means necessary.
He watched as Bellamy led her away, back to her rooms, with a sense of determination. A plan was beginning to formulate in his head, and if he were successful, he wwould have Clarke Griffin as his bride. His Queen. Smirking to himself he too left the room, heading for his own chambers.
Bellamy stared down at Clarke as he ushered her to her room. She was starting to shake from sheer exhaustion, and he doubted she would bathe tonight. He considered offering to help her do so but wasn't up for the sting of rejection from her. Tonight or any other. God, how one girl, one woman could capture his heart so thoroughly baffled him. From the moment the dropship had landed, she had been proving her strength and resilience. Taking care of everyone. Always trying to do what was best for their people, even if it wasn't what was best for her. It had killed him watching her with Finn, and later with Lexa. How she could fall for them, and yet not see just how much he really loved her hurt like hell. She was everything he never thought he would want. The princess of the Ark. She was the golden girl. Untouchable, made of spun glass and meant to be looked at, but never touched. Until he got to know her, at least. Then he and everyone else realized she was made of iron and steel and grit that they could never hope to possess. There was a fire burning within her that made everything else around her seem dim in comparison. She was still golden, but she was also tarnished with the blood and death and fear that being on the ground caused.
"I'm fine Bell. I've had worse." She told him, leaning against his side and confirming that she really wasn't fine. Stupid, stubborn girl.
"No, you're not. You should know that out of everyone I'm the last person you could lie to." He told her, supporting her weight even more, as she seemed to drag her feet against the uneven floor. Damn Roan. And damn Clarke. She just didn't know when to quit. He had no doubt that she would have let Roan kill her just to prove a point. She didn't want to be seen as weak but didn't she know that he could never think that of her. Even when she left after Mount Weather, he didn't think her weak. Clarke's sardonic chuckle broke him out of his thoughts, and he focused his attention more fully on her.
"Same old Bellamy. Still calling me on my bullshit." She murmured lifting her face to try and meet his eyes. As he stared into the blue depths that made up the ocean of her soul, he felt himself crumble just a little. She looked so broken, and in that moment he saw why she had allowed Roan to beat her down over and over again. She felt she deserved it. She truly thought herself a monster and believed that allowing the King of Azgeda to abuse her in such a way would make up for all of her sins. He wanted to cry and scream at her that she wasn't a monster. At least no more than he was, but knew that she wouldn't believe him. At least not yet.
So he'd continue to watch her punish herself through Roan, and he'd be there to pick up the pieces when she finally broke. And he'd put them all back together again, even if he had to use some of his own to make her whole again. Because if anyone on this Godforsaken planet deserved to be whole, it was Clarke Griffin. He sighed and decided to take a chance, stopping to lift her in his arms he carried her the rest of the way to her rooms. Ignoring her feeble protests, he held her close and let her solid weight soothe him as he walked. Reaching her rooms, he shouldered open the door and strode across the space to place her on her bed. Smiling down at her sleeping form, he brushed her hair back from her face and leaned down to place a tender kiss on her forehead.
"You'll be okay Clarke. I'll make sure of it." He whispered before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him quietly.
A/N: My plunny factory is alive and well, and breeding like well, ya know. For those of you wondering, QoF ch. 15 has been sent to my amazing Beta Vino Amore, who is also beta-ing this story. This story may be darker than I intend, but I'm not sure yet. And currently not sure on who will be with Clarke in the end. Let me know your thoughts. Reviews are always welcome. Til next time, Lilbit903.