Long Live the King: He was a natural born leader who could rally the crowds, but he wasn't a king. She was just a diplomat from a neighboring country to help him run the country he didn't even want. AU, Bellarke.
A/N: This story is inspired by the tags written on a post by 'afigureofspeech.'
Chapter 1
He'd always hated the monarchy and its tyrannical rule. Growing up in the slums of the capital, his life was anything but charmed. Unlike the privileged who sat in their castles feasting and drinking their way through their nights, Bellamy labored from dusk to dawn in the mines.
His sister grew ill soon after she was born. Despite her strong spirit, Octavia could hardly stay out in the sun for more than a couple hours without feeling faint. She couldn't work and needed to be cared for around the clock.
Their mother passed away a year after Octavia was born; they didn't know who their fathers were either. There were some rumors about how Bellamy's father was some nobleman who had to fallen in love with his poor mother's beauty. But that information didn't matter to him, because all Bellamy could ever concentrate on was surviving.
He sacrificed everything for his sister.
And when a strange, older man of high birth came into the tavern Octavia waitressed in and drunkenly demanded she come home with him, Bellamy snapped. He punched the other man square in the face and was immediately arrested. He was sentenced to the hung without a hearing the next day.
The regime in place reigned over with divine right for nearly two centuries without any contestation. The oppression of the masses had simply become a part of life for all. No one thought that the suffering would end, not until Bellamy Blake was set for execution.
What no one had counted on was Bellamy's leadership within his community. He had support and connections from all edges of the lower capital. He was known for his rough personality but hidden heart of gold. He took care of his own, and everyone admired him for that.
There was local but very public outrage at Bellamy's imprisonment. His friends broke into his holding cell. There was unrest in the streets that turned into a full-fledged mob.
Bellamy was a young man who knew how to rally the masses, and now he had a vendetta. With charisma and charm, he managed to get everyone on his side to rise against the monarchy that had long kept them anguish.
He went into hiding and somehow became the leader of the rebellion. What began as his own hunger for revenge, became a journey to help others. There was more suffering around him than he had ever known. People from other cities and townships ventured from far away to support him.
The country had been shaken by a young man named Bellamy Blake.
A few months later, there cause was had grown. Together they stormed the streets, broke down the gate, and pushed their way into the palace. The violence was high but morale was even higher. Some of the guards saw the crowd and turned sides.
He had lived his entire life knowing only pain and never-ending misery.
So when he impulsively pulled the trigger and killed the old king, all he felt was relief. He found himself squaring off with the man whose ancestors seized the throne generations earlier. All he could think about was how Octavia had to hide under the floorboards to avoid being kidnapped or assaulted, about how he got his ass kicked by soldiers who were only following orders.
He was breathing hard, standing over the body that had housed the first life he'd taken. He was a murderer.
There were no thoughts in his head, just the high-pitched ringing in his ears.
It took him a few moments to realize that they were chanting around him. And then all at once, his sense came back. The sweat on his forehead, the smell of fire, and the sound of chanting.
They were all shouting in unison, "Long live the King! Long live the King!"
Bellamy looked around, confused. The king was dead, shot in the chest laying limp at his feet. Someone grabbed his shoulder, and someone his leg. The crowd lifted him up in the air.
Bellamy Blake never dreamed of escaping his old life, no less doing anything of such magnitude like this.
He might have been a murderer now, but he had also become a king.
"Long live the King!"
-p-
A natural leader he might have been, but a king he wasn't.
He didn't know the first thing about running a country or even managing it. He tried offering the position up to someone else, anyone, but no one could take his place. No one had the same love from the people that he did.
He was all about making the tough choices, but his kingdom was still in turmoil. There was chaos in the countryside. He had displaced the aristocrats and he wanted to create a new system. He liked the disorder.
He wanted to ensure that all denizens were liberated. They were no longer ruled by an autocracy—they were free to do whatever the hell the wanted.
But after the weeks and months of fighting, this governance with a lack of structure led to uncontrollable chaos. There was madness everywhere.
Octavia became his self-appointed head counsel in a team of advisors. And she decided that Bellamy needed a bit of guidance to run his country. He didn't take well to authority, but he needed someone to make him listen.
Without first consulting her sibling, the brunette invited an advisor from the neighboring country in the North, Naiveria. Now Naiveria was a much smaller territory, but it was well run and peaceful. They were peaceful and prosperous people.
Good relations between their countries seemed favorable for all involved.
They had the potential to create a huge army, while her Naiveria was rich in natural resources.
Octavia was excited for the foreign diplomat's arrival. She waited out by the gates for the carriage to pull up.
She was expecting for some hardened middle-aged politician to step out, but instead she caught sight of a girl around her age with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in tradition, conservative garb. The hem of this girl's dress went to the floor and her hair was pulled back tight. A male security escort offered his hand to help her down, but she promptly ignored it and came out on her own.
She spotted the darker-haired young woman immediately, smiling.
Picking up her dress, she marched over and introduced herself. "I'm Clarke Griffin."
Octavia smiled, squinting through the bright sun. She extended her hand, "Octavia Blake. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you," she repeated back, "Now where's your brother?"
End Chapter 1
A/N: I hoped you like the premise of this story as much as I do! Please review if you are interested in the continuation of this story.