Disclaimer: I don't own The 100. If I did, Wells would not have died.

Clarke was not a good person.

If she had been a good person, she would have noticed. She would have known that Wells would never have done the things she accused him of. Finn had only know him for-what? A matter of days, and he had known that Wells was lying and taking the blame for a crime he had not committed. But Clarke, who had known Wells from before either could crawl and until his death, hadn't been able to see the truth. She had been blind to Wells devotion, his desire to protect her. Clarke hadn't known the truth, but she should have. She wish there had been more time for things to go back the way they were before, when Wells was just as much a part of her as she was him, when he was the right limb and she was the left limb.

But Wells was dead. Dead. If she had thought about it harder, Wells had been the last connection to the Ark and to her old life, which the old Clarke had died along with him. But all Clarke could feel was the growing despair and gutting guilt that tore into her. Wells had always been there for her, even when it seemed as if he was against her, he was always on her side. Yet Clarke had despised him and berated him for a crime he hadn't done, had left him in a pit of vipers that wanted his blood for the acts of his father, and the only solace that she had, the only small redeeming moment in a pitch black of wrongness, was the fact that they had made amends before he was gutted down. That he had known she knew the truth and that she would forever hate herself for accusing him of betrayal and that he had forgiven her having never blamed her.

But she was a horrible person.

Charlotte had been a troubled child. It did not discredit the death that the girl had caused, but Clarke had been cruel in the rejection of the girl. Or maybe she had been just. It was impossible to tell what was right and what was wrong anymore. It had seemed right that Murphy be punished when she had believed it was him; although she hadn't wanted his death either, nor Charlotte's. Well, neither was true, but neither was false either. It was hard to know how dark or good her heart was anymore either.

She was terrible really.

Clarke's mother had been a healer and, like all children of the Ark, she had learned the trade from her mother's knee. She knew how to make the medicine and the teas that would keep the others alive, how to mend a bone and stich a wound. Clarke knew if a temperature was too high and a pulse to low, if a sickness meant death or merely needed rest. But she did want it. It would have been far easier to paint and draw like she had before and left the healing to someone else. On the Ark she had her mother, the betrayer of her father. On Earth there was no one else. There was only her to heal and mend and she loathed it. After days began to pass on after the landing, people began to search her out, seeking out a cure for an ailment and a soothe to worries over sickness. Clarke hated it. She wanted to turn them all away and run far, far away, where she could be left to draw and breathe. Her skills were a gift to be used and she needed to own it.

Clarke was a flaw.

She was not pure hearted, good, and forgiving, not a born leader-book smart, but not people smart-, not as strong as she willed herself to be, not as sure as she needed, and destined to fall all alone if she continued being this new Clarke that had replaced the child Clarke after the death of her father, only to be replaced again as she understood what she was: a flaw. It was a bitter and shattering pill to swallow when a person learned who they truly were, especially when they learned they were nothing more than a flaw.

The King

The plan was fucked. Not that Bellamy had ever truly had a plan beyond getting down to Earth with his sister and protecting her, but still, any subsequent plans were fucked. There were a million and one reasons for this. First of all was the Do-Good Squad that Octavia had wound up in, therefore Bellamy was connected to as well (thanks Octavia). They fought Bellamy tooth and nail on every decision, never noticing the damage they were causing by undermining his authority. This was a group of 100 criminals; and yes, not all were true criminals, some had crimes less heinous then everyone else, but there were still murderers and rapists in the midst. It was a hell of a lot more productive to have the masses on his side than on the side of someone worse than him. And yes, they were many far worse than Bellamy and his black heart.

Then there were the grounders and the acidic fog. Earth was not as empty as they hoped. It was less toxic then they had expected, but the acidic fog had caught them off guard. Earth had seemed wide and open when they landed. Now getting caught too far from camp could get them killed. What was worse was the fact that they had limited resources. Oh sure, Earth was filled with food and land, but harvesting those resources was difficult with crude tools fashioned from adolescents, most of whom had been locked in a cell for a number of years merely waiting to be killed off on their eighteen birthday.

Happy fucking birthday.

It was fine. Really. No, it was great. Bellamy just had an unseen clan of natives- some genetic defect cousins that had somehow managed to live in a radioactive hell for the past ninety-seven years-that were out for blood, an original group of 100 delinquent teens that was comprised of murderers and mere pick pockets, con artists, and plain shit-for-luck-fools, acidic fog that left a person dying but not dead, just close enough to whimper for mercy, and a band of revolutionaries that were kinda right, but such a pain in the ass that he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing it. Oh, and his little sister happened to be a part of that band. That same little sister that he had shot a guy for and happened to have half of the camp panting after. Not to mentation a giant decaying space station of adults that were bound to come knocking at their door eventually or die in space without a sound. The second was preferable, but it wasn't like they would know. They would be left wondering if the people left on the Ark were alive and coming or dead and no longer a threat.

Princess's little club might have called Bellamy a bastard a time or two. And they were right, in more ways than one, but was it any wonder? Bellamy hadn't planned on having the burden on his shoulders. The plan was fucked up. He had only wanted to be with his sister and to protect her. And yeah, maybe he wanted to be one of the first to return to Earth and be able to stretch his legs. To be able to become something other than worthless scum underneath the elite's feet. On the Ark Princess would never have blessed his kind with a look. But here, she had to look at him. Answer to him. Listen to him. His word was good as law on Earth. He was someone here.

Clarke Griffin might have been a princess on the Ark, but here?

Bellamy Blake was the king.

I'm not going to admit that this is good. I haven't written in a long while and so this is a way to get me back into writing. I like this show. It's not great right now, but I think it has such potential so I felt like doing a fan fiction. Also it's a way for me to get some more BellamyxClark goodness because there's not a lot of fanfics on them right now. I plan to take it a bit slow, mostly because I don't like it when characters fall into love in a millisecond and I don't see these two as people who could fall for each other quickly. Although I believe Bellamy has had a thing for Clarke for awhile; he just tries to fight it. She's one of the few that he listens to (for a minute at least). Also, I'm not in love with Clarke has a character yet. I'm not going to change her too much, but I want to flesh her out a bit.