"One day you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that can not die." - Beau Taplin
Clarke Griffin didn't think of herself as a Princess at all. She couldn't walk in high heels, or keep dirt off her dresses, and when her father patiently dealt with the villager's and their problems, it was hard for her to sit still, let alone keep a straight face. She hated having to watch what she said, or know what fork to use at dinner— and don't get her started on the fact that both her mother and father insist she have an arranged marriage. The thing about Clarke, was she couldn't stand living behind castle walls. She craved fun, and adventure, without her parent's guards following her at every turn. She was eighteen, for God's sake, and she hadn't even been kissed.
Not that that was her top priority, or anything. She'd much prefer to climb mountains, sail the sea, and lay beneath the stars, where she could swim naked and free— but if the opportunity presented itself, and she happened to be interested, well, she wouldn't say no.
In all honesty, she just wanted to go a little crazy once in her lifetime, before she's married to a man she doesn't love, and is forced to act like the perfect wife, and the perfect daughter, and the perfect little princess, she will never, truly be.
"How does that feel, Lady Griffin?"
"I can't breathe." Clarke said, as her maid finished strapping her into her corset.
"Perfect." Mrs. Jordan smiled, and helped her into her dress, despite the fact that Clarke told her she'd much prefer to do it herself.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the woman— she did — but she hated feeling like a pinup doll, who stood still as people plucked and powdered her like she wasn't a real person.
Holding onto her mother's arm for support, they made their way down the long stairs leading into the main ballroom. Her legs felt as if they were about to buckle and her feet were already blistering.
"When can I take these shoes off, Mother?" She whined, and Abby Griffin smiled softly.
"The answer never changes, my darling, so why do you always ask me?"
"Right. Perhaps I should just wait until the day my feet literally detach themselves from my body."
"You'll be waiting a long time for that, I assure you."
Clarke had to stop her eyes from rolling into her head, but even though her mother frustrated her to no end, part of her wished she could be half the woman she was. She was strong willed, opinionated, and always stood up for what she believed in, even if her father didn't agree— but most of the time, they always ended up on the same page.
The thing about her parents, everyone seemed so enchanted by, was the fact that they truly were in love with each other, and it had always been that way. They had grown up side by side, best friends, and then lovers— which is why they didn't understand how Clarke couldn't possibly want to marry Wells Jaha, her childhood best friend, and the son of a very important, royal, family.
Clarke will admit, that marrying Well's wouldn't be the worse thing she could ever do, and she did love him, albeit not romantically, but there was love there nonetheless, and a lot of it at that— but he was the very definition of a prince, and that is not what she wanted for herself.
He made her smile often, yes, but he didn't make her heart race at the very touch of his hand, and she didn't lay in bed at night imagining his face, nor did he make her question things. She wanted to be consumed by passion, and lust— she wanted to lose her breath just from a look. She needed someone who Well's could never be, and that pained her more than she'd like to admit.
After all, it would be easier if he was the one.
But easier has never been a road Clarke has willingly taken.
"Care to dance?" If it wasn't the devil himself.
"Always." She smiled, and Wells took her hand in his, leading her to the centre of the room. Bodies moved around them, as the music seemed to flow along the very floor. Well's hand was in perfect position, not too high, and definitely not too low. He was a gentleman, she'd give him that.
"What I wouldn't do for a mug of beer right now."
Well's laughed.
"Wouldn't wine suit you better?"
"See, this is why we would never work, Wells. You just can't get my drinks in order."
They smiled at each other, despite knowing that underneath her joke, there was truth. The most painful part of it all, was that Clarke was everything Wells wanted and more. He was completely, and utterly in love with her— and if it came down to it, she would accept his proposal for that mere fact.
Because he deserved marrying the girl of his dreams, and if she was it, why, she could hardly stand in the way of that.
But every time she saw him looking at her like she was the very sun itself, she prayed that another girl would come into his life, and sweep him off his feet.
A prayer always left unanswered, for any girl she introduced him to, never seemed to win him over.
They danced for most of the night, a few men cutting in here or there, until Clarke's feet could hardly take it anymore and they walked onto the balcony, away from prying eyes, where she finally freed them from their torture.
"I'd like to ask you something, Clarke."
Her heart picked up— but not from excitement— from fear.
"Oh?"
"I know that you know, I love you and I know, that you know, our parents want us to be married, and that I want us to be married— but I realized, I wanted to go about it in the traditional sense, so, here I go."
He got down on one knee, and her eyes widened in horror.
"Wells, you don't have to do this."
"I know." He smiled. "I want to."
"I remember the day I met you. You were hiding behind a bush and you were wearing this little pink dress— not that anyone could tell from first glance, since you were covered in mud… but even at six, you were the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. You saw me watching you, and you walked over to me, and insisted I play. It was when were fifteen, that I realized I loved you as much as a fifteen year old boy could, and ever since that day, I have only loved you more and more, with every fibre of my being, and I will continue to love you till they day I die. So, it would truly be an honour, if you, Clarke Griffin, would make me the happiest man alive, and marry me."
She was crying now, unable to speak, unable to move. She wasn't ready to make this decision— not yet.
She looked away from him and leaned against the balcony, looking out over the trees, and staring into the sea.
"If I told you I would marry you, only if you took me away from here, and traveled the world with me, would you?"
He slowly stood, tucking the ring into his pocket.
"You know I couldn't. I have a duty, to my family and to my people."
She walked toward him and took his hands into hers.
"That's why I can't marry you— because, and this may sound selfish, I don't want to come third. I want to come first. I want to be the deciding factor. I'm sorry."
"Clarke—"
Before he could finish, she darted passed him, pass the people dancing, pass her parents, and when she reached her room, she collapsed on her bed.
She never thought she would outright deny Wells like that, but he left her no choice. In the long run, it was probably best this way.
It was when her father stopped by her room, that everything changed.
"You're marrying him."
"Dad, no. I'm not."
"You don't have a choice."
She couldn't believe what he was saying, what he was taking from her.
"Do you want me to be unhappy?"
"Don't be so over dramatic, Clarke. Wells is a good man, and he will be a good husband. You have known each other for thirteen years. Some people in your position don't have that luxury of time. You should be thankful."
"Thankful?! For what?! Have my agency taken from me? Having to spend the rest of my days sharing a bed with a man I am not, nor ever will be, in love with?!"
"You think that now, sweetheart, but one day you will love him. Sooner than you think."
"Get out." She whispered harshly, before burying her face into her pillow. She felt the warmth of her father's hand on her back, before his footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
When she was finally alone, she kicked off her dress, and threw on her outdoor clothes, before sneaking down the hallway, through the servants kitchen, and out the back.
She had one of the stable boys prepare her horse— Starlight — and she tipped him before, riding off into the village.
She closed her eyes as she rode, relishing in the feel of the air against her skin. This was the first time she had ever gone into the village alone, without protection, and damn, she was going to be sure to enjoy it.
What she didn't know what that her father and gotten word from one of the servants, that she had rode off. At first he had been angry, but when his mother calmed him down, explaining that she deserved to live by her own terms, even if only for a moment, he had come up with a little plan.
He'd send down one of his men, without the uniform, and very much in secret— and he would befriend his daughter, join her on her little "adventure", convince her that the outside world wasn't where she belonged, and be sure to keep her safe the entire time, until she was desperate to come home.
The only rule?
Never reveal his identity.
When Clarke left the cities confines, she was laughing. She loved the sound of the dirt beneath her horses hooves, she loved the way the stars looked above the trees, and when she found a place to stay the night, it was the first time she truly felt like an adult.
When she woke up the next morning, she was sure the place would be surrounded — but it wasn't. Aside from three old men sitting in the far corner, with what she could only assume was their pet goat, there was no one else but her and the cook.
"Surprise me." She said, and the cook mumbled something she couldn't understand, before pushing a bowl of an unknown substance in front of her. She sniffed it, and had to fight back a gag.
"Hey Pete, I'll get the usual."
Clarke turned to find one of the most handsome men she had ever laid her eyes on sitting on her right. He had a mess of black hair, and a face full of freckles, and he was beautiful. When he caught her staring, she looked away, and took a spoonful of her food, the taste stopping the blush from forming on her cheeks.
"Soup of the day, huh? An unusual choice, if I do say so myself."
She looked at him from the corner of her eye and shrugged a little.
"I felt like trying something new."
"And how's that going for you?"
"Wonderfully, thank you."
He smirked, as if he knew something she didn't, and God, she had never wanted to hit someone more than in that moment.
But the moment passed quickly, when the sound of horses seemed to grow louder and louder.
She cursed under her breath, before slamming some coins onto the counter and rushing out the door. There were at least ten men heading down the road, as she climbed onto Starlight.
Her adventure was about to be over before it even started.
"Need a hand?" The mysterious young man was now next to her, on a horse of his own.
"What? Why would you ask me that?"
"There are a bunch of guards coming down the road, and you don't look to happy about it."
"Well, I can handle myself, thanks." She began riding down the road, but the man stayed close behind.
"I know a way you can lose them."
She looked over her shoulder without slowing her pace.
"…really?"
"Mhm. Just ask for my help, and I'll show you."
There it was again. That undying urge to hit him in the face, but with her parent's guards right behind her, she didn't really have a choice.
She groaned.
"Will you help me?"
"Funny, I think I missed the please you included in there." He tilted his head and arched a brow.
"Please."
He bit his bottom lip and smiled.
"Follow me."
And with that, he took her off the road and through the trees. They moved at a speed that cause Clarke's hair to blow back in the wind, and if felt so nice to not have the weight of it on her shoulders. They rode passed flowers of every colour, passed, animals the scurried up trees, and crawled underground.
The sun felt warm against her skin, and she never wanted this feeling to end.
Especially when the lost the guards.
"I can't believe we just did that!" She laughed, and the stranger smiled.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"Bellamy." He told her.
"Bellamy, my hero…" She said, sarcasm at it's finest. "I'm Clarke."
"Pleasure." He nodded, sure to use the same tone she just had.
"Well, I can take it from here. I'm sure we won't be seeing each other again, so, good luck in life." She rode passed him, but again he followed.
"Where are you headed?"
"Why do you care?"
"Call it curiosity."
"I'm looking for an adventure." She said simply.
"You don't look like the adventuring type."
"And you don't look like the saving people type."
How ironic.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand who she was, other than a runaway princess, in desperate need of a little fun, though probably just a daddy's girl underneath it all, trying to rebel. She'd be begging him to take her home before the night was through— he'd bet coins on it.
"I'm on my way to meet some pirates, and since you have nowhere to be, how about you join me and I'll show you an adventure you couldn't possibly read about in a book."
Well, that was an opportunity begging not be denied.
She remembered the stories her father told her of pirates— how scary he made them out to be, but she was sure they were not nearly as bad as he wanted her to think, so, without wasting anymore time, she rode up next to Bellamy, and offered him her hand.
"Nice to officially meet you." She said, when he shook it.
"Now, let's go."