A/N: So, I fell in love with this fandom, binge watched everything available, and then fanfics happened. Hope you like this one.

xx-Kitten.

Ice Heart

By Kittenshift17

Prologue

The human mind has a breaking point. For some, it's easy to find; easy to manipulate; easy to pinpoint; easy to exploit. For others, it's complicated and when it snaps it might be permanent, or it might only be a temporary lapse in sanity and or sense. Everyone has a snapping point and for most people, their snap never coincides with someone else's breaking point. The first fracture of Clarke Griffin's common sense had been a long time coming, it seemed, though she was sure they hadn't actually been on the ground as long as it seemed.

It felt like an eternity since her mother had come to her cell on the Ark and cryptically sent her on a fool's voyage to the ground. It seemed even longer since their crash landing and the violence and defiance and foolishness inspired by Bellamy Blake and his thirst to keep the remaining people on the Ark from joining the 100 on the ground.

Bellamy, Clarke thought bitterly, looking sideways at the young man seated beside her against the trunk of the tree in the forest as night closed in. Dax's body was cooling across the clearing, and Bellamy was still breathing hard as he tried to rein in the fear and frustration and stress and anguish at this most recent in a long line of things gone wrong. Clarke couldn't say what it was that made her slowly reach out a hand toward her fellow Delinquent, co-leader, and the only other person on the ground who understood the hard choices they'd been forced to make for the sake of survival. She simply did it, reaching for him carefully in the dark.

He jumped at the feel of her hand smoothing over his before tipping his head in her direction. His face was grimy with dirt and blood from wrestling with Dax and their long search throughout the day for the supply bunker. He looked tired, she realized. Clarke understood that deep sense of bone-weary exhaustion that showed on his face and in his eyes and she didn't at all blame him for looking a bit like he was about to snap. The hallucinations from the fermented snacks they'd ingested earlier had left her weary with all she'd seen under the influence and the blows she'd taken at Dax's hand had left her body tired and aching. Weeks spent scrounging for food and fighting for the lives had left her running on fumes and she couldn't deny that she'd thought seriously about giving up a time or two.

"We should get cleaned up," Clarke said quietly even though the last thing she wanted was to push on, to keep moving, to keep fighting. It seemed all they ever did was just keep putting one foot in front of the other, plodding ever onward, fighting and clawing for each new breath they drew.

Bellamy nodded slowly, his dark eyes resting on her face as he turned his hand beneath hers and caught hold of her, his palm pressed to hers snugly in a way that felt almost nice, all things considered. The look on his face wasn't one she'd ever seen there before, Clarke thought idly as she traced her eyes over his expression. He looked almost desperate, as though even the idea of moving from that spot on the forest floor was too much for him. Clarke didn't blame him. She was at her breaking point. She didn't want to fight anymore. She was tired of feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders; tired of being strong for the others; tired of needing to be the one to think of everything to keep herself and her friends safe.

She just wanted to feel something good, she realized. From the look on Bellamy's face, he wanted that too, and unbidden a recollection of the good feelings that had coursed through her when she'd last had sex flashed in her mind, sparking a terrible and dangerous idea. Her initial reaction to the very thought of finding that kind of temporary good feeling with Bellamy was to recoil in horror, but the longer she looked at him, the more the idea appealed to her.

It wouldn't help anything, she knew. They would still butt heads tomorrow over what was best for their camp and how to deal with the threat of the Grounders. But it could feel good for a little while tonight, the traitorous voice inside her head whispered and without thinking, Clarke leaned toward Bellamy until she could feel the heat of his skin radiating against her own though she'd yet to touch him. His breath ghosted over her chilled flesh in the cool evening air, the threat of winter right there to nip at her conscience and remind her that without their searching, the 100 might not make it through the coming cold gripping the planet they'd been forced to re-inhabit.

Bellamy didn't pull away from her. Instead he held perfectly still, his eyes fixed on her face, never wavering from her own. She knew that he knew what she suddenly and so desperately wanted, and she got the feeling he was going to give it to her. He just wanted to make her squirm a little first, or maybe he was just waiting for her to come to her senses.

"If you're looking for someone to make the smart decision here, Princess…" Bellamy began, his voice hoarse with his exhaustion and rough with his overwrought emotions. "That's not me."

"I know," Clarke nodded, leaning a little closer until her nose bumped against his.

Bellamy didn't smile or taunt or laugh at her, though she expected he would've at any other moment during their acquaintance had she been essentially attempting to seduce him. Tonight, however, he was at his breaking point, too, and even knowing that he tended to take his kicks where he could find them, and that she would probably regret it later, Clarke leaned closer still before she kissed him hard. He didn't hold back when he reached for her, squeezing the hand he held before lifting both of his hands and tunneling them into her tousled blonde hair. He kissed her back like he couldn't resist; like he was drowning, and she was oxygen. Clarke kissed him like he was fire and she was freezing.

And it felt good.

By the stars, it felt good! His lips were rough against hers, his tongue tangling around hers and brining the taste of dirt and blood that stained his face and all the heat and irresistible pleasure she was sure she'd been denied for far too long. The rush of endorphins through her limbs tingled and burned and Clarke closed her eyes, pulling him closer, craving more, uncaring that he was Bellamy Blake and half the time he was her enemy as much as he was her fellow leader. Nothing else mattered, right then. Not the 100. Not the lives they'd lost. Not the threat of the Grounders attacking, or the limited contact with the Ark, or the mess it was to have a hundred criminal teenagers given their freedom and told to survive or die, their choice. Nothing mattered except the sweep of Bellamy's tongue against her own; the nip of his teeth against her bottom lip, the feel of his hands cupping her neck and holding her still to receive more of his dizzying kisses.

He twisted further toward her, leaning closer, pressing nearer, and Clarke welcomed him. Her fingers tangled into his shaggy dark hair, pulling him closer until she found herself sprawled on her back upon the forest floor. The root digging into her back meant nothing. The body of Dax lying a scant ten feet away meant nothing, either. The dirt and the moss and the leaves on the forest floor were just a part of this new world they inhabited and when Bellamy crawled closer until he laid on top of her, Clarke parted her legs to receive him, wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

His hands shoved her shirt up, not bothering to pull it all the way off when it was too cold, and this wasn't some expression of love or an adoring exploration of the other's body. Clarke raked her nails down his back through his shirt and around his hips to free him from the confines of his pants, and Bellamy returned the favor, his cold hands making her breasts tingle when he cupped them before impatiently reaching for the buttons on her pants and beginning to yank them down her legs.

He made a sound of impatience when she managed to pull his pants down far enough to free his cock from their fabric prison, and she almost laughed at the hiss he emitted at her cold hands around the most sensitive part of him. Clarke wriggled out of her jeans when he lifted off her enough to yank at them, trying to get them far enough out of his way to reach the only part of her he was interested in. When her jeans and underwear were tangled around just one of her ankles, trapped there thanks to her boots, Bellamy lunged back down on top of her, his lips crashing against hers and making her crazy all over again.

He wasn't gentle with her, and Clarke was grateful for that. His fingers dipped between her legs without hesitation, and she arched, whimpering against his lips when he quested to bring her pleasure and to ease the way for the part of him that throbbed in her hands, eager to impale her. The cold of the forest faded as the heat in her blood began to rise and Clarke breathed hard, breaking from his lips to gasp for air when he almost brutally forced pleasure upon her and took his own from her at the same time. He leaned in closer, kissing her neck maddeningly, making her ache as the hand playing between her legs grew rougher.

"Stars," Clarke whispered, her eyes closing in delight as lusty pleasure fizzed through her, threatening to overwhelm her.

Bellamy never made a sound as she worked her hands in tandem, pumping them up and down the solid length of him. His breath hitched the longer she spent and the faster she moved, and he emitted a low hiss before pulling his hands from between her legs to shove hers away from him. He didn't give her time to think, or to change her mind as he slid his body closer, nudging her legs apart to make way for him. Clarke knew she might've stopped him were she feeling sane enough and rational enough to think clearly, but right then she couldn't think past all the bad and the yearning it garnered in her to find something - anything – that was good.

She moaned softly when he aligned his body at her core before he shoved home in one smooth, if somewhat unforgiving motion, tunneling inside of her until he had nothing more to give. Clarke's eyes widened to feel just how much that turned out to be, and she clenched down around him tightly when he began pulling away after a long moment, clearly in no mood to linger over the feel of their two bodies joining as one. Reminding herself that this wasn't some act of love, just one of need and lust and release, Clarke closed her eyes and when Bellamy kissed her again as he took her hard on the floor of the forest, she kissed him back until she was dizzy.

He didn't linger over every deep thrust before jerking back to dive again. And again. And again.

"Stars, Bellamy," Clarke whispered when he broke their kiss to nuzzle against her neck just below her ear in that sweet, sensitive spot that made her crazy.

Her hands clung to his shoulders, still clad in his shirt and his jacket, and Clarke almost wished she could feel the warmth of his bare skin under her hands. Almost. She rolled her hips and she arched her back as he drove into her harder and harder, his face hidden against her neck as he took what he wanted without daring to look at her. The pleasure and dizziness built within her quickly under such a relentless onslaught, and Clarke couldn't be more grateful as he shoved her up and up and up before pitching her right off the cliff's edge into a turbulent sea of bliss below.

There, in that moment as her whole body coiled tightly before snapping loose like a wind-up toy set free, Clarke found peace. Peace and warmth and the strange sense of connection to the person who could inspire that feeling within her and not inspire anything else that would complicate an already messy relationship. Bellamy grunted as he thrust harder, losing the battle to keep his self-control once she'd lost hers and he jerked erratically for a few shallow thrusts before burying himself deep inside her as he let everything go.

He collapsed on top of her when he was done, but he wasn't heavy enough to crush her, and Clarke welcomed the warmth and the feeling of just having someone else there. He was breathing hard against her neck, and Clarke knew she was panting, too. She could feel his ribs grinding against her own, and his hip bones dug sharply into her stomach, making her realize that in addition to being stressed beyond imagining, he probably wasn't getting enough to eat.

But then, who is? She thought bitterly as she laid there for a few minutes, simply feeling the heartbeat and harsh breath and utter aliveness of the man she'd just fucked. And it had been nothing but a meaningless fuck, Clarke knew. She wasn't about to go getting all hung up over Bellamy Blake, and she knew that just as soon as he'd caught his breath and started thinking a bit more clearly, he was going to go back to his ironic nickname and he sarcasm and his mild condescension whilst driving her absolutely mad by thinking things through his way, in that way that never seemed to entirely line up with her way of thinking about things. They would return to fighting and snarling and shouting at one another about what was best for their people, and how best to handle everything they faced in this endless struggle just to stay alive.

Clarke knew that all too soon, she'd have to go back to being level-headed Clarke Griffin, the girl with a limited ability to heal the wounds of those who needed her, and the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She knew, too, that he would go back to being Bellamy Blake, the man determined to keep the rest of the Ark from joining them and oppressing them all over again.

In some ways, Clarke didn't even blame him. She might logically know that without their help and their intel, those on the Ark – including her mother – might not live long enough to join them on the ground. But she knew too that her life on the Ark before her Dad had been floated and before things had turned to crap, had been a blessed one. In comparison to the life Octavia lived, for instance, she really was the Princess that Bellamy accused her of being. On some level, Clarke could understand not wanting the Council and all the wretched and stupid rules that operated the Ark and kept their people alive. Down here there was a freedom in taking what you wanted wherever you could find it and she supposed that was exactly what she'd done here with Bellamy.

She hadn't been thinking about Finn, or the tentative relationship they'd been building. She hadn't been thinking about anything other than finding a few moments of good in a world full of bad.

"Fuck," Bellamy groaned after several long minutes as they laid together, catching their breath.

He pulled away from her quickly, withdrawing from her body and rolling off her to sprawl on his back in the dirt beside her. Clarke shook her head slowly, staring up at the canopy of leaves overhead and the occasional star that winked through them. Already the peace of the orgasmic high was beginning to ebb and Clarke sighed before turning her head to squint at Bellamy through the darkness. She could barely make out his face in the low light, and she knew that they would need to be careful on their walk back to camp if they wanted to avoid ending up in a Grounder trap.

Bellamy stared up at the stars too, his breath beginning to even out once more and she studied his profile as she looked at him, reminding herself that half the time since they'd landed, he was her enemy, and that the rest of the time he was just as scared as she was.

"We should go back to camp," he said quietly, his voice low and rough in the stillness of the dark.

"You think they'll send a search party if we don't?" Clarke asked, wondering if their friends would rally and be brave enough without the two of them there to lead the charge.

"You don't want to go back?" Bellamy frowned, tilting his head to look at her while he fumbled to re-dress himself as the cold began to seep in, once more.

"Of course, I do," Clarke rolled her eyes. "But it's a long walk in the dark, and I don't really remember the way without being able to spot landmarks. And there could be any number of Grounders, or their traps, between us and the camp."

"We can't stay here," Bellamy told her, though he made no further effort to move. "Something will likely smell the blood and come to investigate Dax's body if we don't bury him."

Clarke tipped her head to look in the direction of the dead boy they'd fought and killed.

"Why did he attack?" she frowned.

"Commander Shumway promised him something if he assassinated me, most likely," Bellamy shrugged his shoulders, feigning a nonchalance she was sure he didn't actually feel.

Sitting up slowly, Clarke peeled a section of lichen from a nearby rock and used the dew-moist moss to wipe away the mess Bellamy had left between her legs. She rolled to her feet so she could squat as she dusted off the dirt and leaves before pulling her pants back up and buttoning them, once more. When she was done, she looked down at Bellamy for a long moment before offering him her hand to help him to his feet. He hesitated just for a moment before he took it and let her pull him up.

"Maybe we should leave him," Clarke said quietly. "We don't turn on our own, and he did. Maybe he deserves to be eaten by whatever beasts are out there, or to just stay here and rot. Maybe he doesn't deserve kind words spoken over a shallow grave alongside the others in our graveyard."

"He was a good worker, Princess," Bellamy disagreed quietly. "And it's not like we haven't all been desperate enough to make a stupid mistake."

Clarke sighed, knowing he was right.

"You don't deserve to die, Bellamy," Clarke told him quietly. "You shot Chancellor Jaha to get yourself on the drop-ship so you could protect Octavia. He survived. That means you can be forgiven."

"Doing bad things for good reasons doesn't make them right, Clarke," Bellamy argued, his voice low and sincere. "Usually you're the one preaching that to me. Don't let being caught in the crossfire of Dax's desperation taint that righteousness you've been carrying around with you until now."

"I'm not righteous," Clarke argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bellamy emitted a low laugh at her expense as he looked down at her in the dark, moving close enough that she could make out his features and see the gleam of sardonic amusement in his eyes.

"Princess, from what I've seen, you're the only righteous damn thing on this entire goddamn planet."

He took her by the hand and gave her arm a gentle tug as he began to walk away, leaving Dax's body there in the woods and leading her back in the direction of the supply bunker, apparently no more interested in braving Grounder traps in the dark than she was. Clarke couldn't help thinking as she followed him, the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers and her lips still tingling from his searing kiss, that if she was righteous, then maybe he was, too.

NOTE: I also write Original Fiction. Search "Ellie J Duck" on Amazon to check out my original works.