We must be swift as a coursing river
With all the force of a great typhoon
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon
The first time they had met, he had drawled out a, "just because you're the goddamn princess and I'm your low-born guard doesn't mean I'll sleep with you." She had told him that she wouldn't sleep with him to save her life (or his), and he retorted with telling her that was exactly the kind of thing a princess would say. They went back and forth for the next two hours, and then he asked for a transfer to the prison because he would rather guard criminals than royalty. She had conceded, and that was supposed to be it.
Three years later, they were meeting for the second time, and she could hardly meet his eyes when she couldn't tear her gaze away from the gun held in his grasp. Of all the captains she could have been assigned to, it was the one who might recognize her, the one who held a gun in his callused hands as easily as he held her fate in his cracked palms. "Name?" He barked out.
"Clarke of the Sky People." A girl's name as well as a boy's name thankfully, but she had to stop herself from pulling her hand down her cropped hair.
"Look up when you're talking to me, princess," he told her. "I'm your captain, not your Royal Highness." There were a few jeers at his taunt, and she gritted her teeth.
"Yes, sir," she bit out.
"Right," he glanced at her again, gaze harder. Her pale eyes (were her lashes too thick?) met his dark ones, defiant. Then he walked on to the next soldier. "Name?"
"You know me, big bro," the raven-haired soldier said, and Clarke couldn't help but glance over at him. He was slender built like Bellamy, but if they were related like he suggested, she could see the family resemblance. He was almost beautiful where Bellamy was handsome.
"Yeah, very cute," he said in the tone that suggested it wasn't. "Name, O."
"You said it," he shrugged, lifting a shoulder.'
The captain narrowed his eyes, and at last he responded with a, "The name's Octavian Blake of the Sky People. Younger brother to the famous Captain Bellamy Blake. And hell lot more fun." Some laughed at that, and Clarke found herself grinning.
"And a lightweight," there was a hint of a smile on his lips, and somehow he was more attractive in those few moments than he had been for the past hour.
"I call that more fun."
Then he laughed – a warm, rough sound – before he moved along the line. Clarke allowed herself a sigh of relief. She had been certain that the sea-blue of her eyes would have given her away, that somehow the bindings around her chest would fall apart. She had been certain that he would recognize her as their princess, heiress to their queen, and her charade would end right there.
Of all the camps she could have been assigned to, she had to be assigned to this one. She never thought that she would be a soldier, but if she had been raised to rule, she could learn to follow. Besides, this was a necessity. The only way she could talk to Empress Lexa was either with a hostage at her blade or through fighting her, and Clarke was the only one who could bring an end to it.
In those two years of peace not too long ago, they had been close. They had been friends. They had been more than that, but that summer of sticky kisses and her lips against Clarke's throat was long past. Love was weakness, Lexa had told her then. Lexa had never loved Clarke, but she didn't think her weak. All she had to do was be assigned to one of the troops attacking her – and Lexa was nothing like her mother, locked up in the Ark and giving commands because she fought in the battles herself – which could be her chance.
Only it wasn't just being found out as a princess that stood in her way. It was being found out as a girl. Women were leaders, engineers, artists and medics, but they weren't soldiers. It was a crime punishable by death. A man and a soldier was a double guise, and it was sure to lead her to talk to Lexa.
She knew she could do it if given the chance. She knew she could bring back the peace that had once held. Her pale gaze followed her captain's descend down the line, and her throat tightened. Bellamy Blake, however, might be a problem.
: :
At first, he didn't spare the shorter soldier a second glance. It was only when he saw the gleam of defiance in his eyes that Bellamy had looked again. He was stout, and his hands were soft, unworked. A goddamn princess, and that was what Bellamy had called them. His features were strong, but they were pretty in a way his sister's face was. He was grateful for that. Anything that threw them off his sister was a godsend blessing to him.
Bellamy pulled her away immediately after the line-up. "What are you thinking? How the hell can you be so stupid?"
"I'm not spending another God knows how many years locked up somewhere waiting for you to come back," she shot back heated, voice pitching.
"Lower your voice," he hissed. Bellamy sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead as he glanced over his sister again. She still looked like an utter girl to him, but Octavia had told him that was just perspective. "You could have come as anything else. Volunteered as a medic."
She dismissed it. "I would have gotten someone killed."
"You'll get yourself and my soldiers killed, O," Bellamy snapped at her. He couldn't watch her die, not when he had gone through so much to save her.
"Bell," she sighed. "It's really a miracle I'm alive anyways. It's a miracle you were transferred to the prison. It was a miracle that we got out."
He didn't like to think about the prison, and he didn't like to think about what his sister had done to get herself in there. "Then don't waste it."
"I'm not," and he knew from the tone of those words, the subject was closed. Damn it all, damn her. "How's the war going?" It was his least favorite question, and it was also the question he was asked the most.
"Badly," Bellamy said. "We have the superior technology, but not going to die, the Grounders have the numbers. Lexa's battle plans are far better than anything we've got, and they know the terrain better than we do." His hands curled into his fists by his side, and he glanced over at his sister. "We're losing. And now I've got this rag-tag bunch, and I need to make the lot of you somewhat functional in two months."
Octavia wrinkled her nose. "Aren't the training regimes usually three?"
Bellamy nodded. "We don't have the time though." They didn't have any time at all, and whatever time they bought was borrowed and quickly slipping through their fingers. "And they, at least, got a functional leadership thing even if it's through reincarnation. We have a whole council grappling for the queen's power, the king given out by the damn queen and the princess singing for peace." He snapped his fingers. "We're screwed."
"We can win this, Bell," Octavia told him, fierce.
The smile on his lips felt dry. "That's what I keep telling myself."
a/n
I will pay you with my soul (if I still had one I think it went missing after a certain something happened to a certain ned stark) if you think of a better title + summary than this for me omg I swear that's the hardest part
I LOVE REVIEWS ILY BE GOOD GUYS