Wah! It's been so long! I'm sorry, it's just school and work. *sigh* Anyway, here's another chapter! I hope y'all like it! Also, im pretty tired so if theres any mistakes i missed please tell me!
A/N: there's a scene w panic attacks and things, so if that's triggering might just wanna skip over it-
Clarke stood at the bottom of the wooden stairs that led up to the deck. She could hear the noise everyone was making above her and it made her even less inclined to join in on the fun. She placed her foot on the first step, and stopped. That was far enough, right? She didn't have to go up there, did she? Octavia would probably find her and drag her up eventually if she didn't go up now. She sighed and ascended into chaos. The deck was a mess of people, reminding Clarke of just how many people there were on this hunk of junk. She squeezed between the bodies and made her way over to the edge of the ship by the railing. She grabbed a cup from a stray crew member, who was too drunk to notice the loss of their drink. How long had she been locked up in her room? Clarke saw some people she recognized among the crowd, but the majority was unfamiliar faces. She sniffed the drink she'd nabbed and wrinkled her nose. It was a homemade, or ship-made, moonshine. It wasn't going to be tasty, but hopefully it would be effective in drowning out feelings. She took a tentative sip and gagged.
"Yea, it's not the best, but it'll do." A voice chuckled. Clarke looked over to see Monty leaning against the railing with a smile on his face. He wasn't drunk yet, but the pink tints of his cheeks hinted to Clarke that he was at least tipsy.
"I'll take your word for it." Clarke replied after forcing the foul liquid down. "You better, or at least the word of all of 'em." Monty said, gesturing to the crowd on the ship. She smiled and took another swig of the moonshine.
"Do I want to know how this is made, or even what's in it?" Clarke asked. "Nah, probably not." Monty said with a grimace. Clarke laughed. "You look nicer when you smile you know. Do it more often and maybe the crew will talk to you more." Monty fake-whispered. Clarke ducked her head to cover her face with her hair, the smile melting off her face.
"I'll take your word for it." Clarke replied. Monty nudged her with his shoulder and gestured towards the happy crew.
"Ya see there? They're all celebrating the life of Atom, and just having a good time. Soon we're going to be at war, we might lose some more people. We've all lost a lot, that's why we are on this stupid ship, and you can help us. I have a feeling you've lost a lot too." Monty said knowingly. He grinned and then walked back into the crowd, screaming something about Jasper. Clarke looked out into the crowd of people, noticing how happy they all looked, and decided that she would try to be happy too. When she saw Octavia in the crowd, the blonde budged and shoved her way over to the girl.
"Clarke! Hi! Oh my gosh! Can you believe how nice this is?" Octavia chirped, heaving a rather large cup of moonshine up in her face.
"Octavia, don't you think you should slow down a bit? The night's barely begun."
"Of course not silly! Psst, I'm not s'pposed ta tell ya, but Bell has a surprise for you!" Octavia "whispered." The girl gestured dramatically over to where the tall captain was standing, and nudged Clarke with her shoulders, rather painfully. "What could that asshole have for me?" She replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.
"You, li'l missy, are gonna haf to wait and see!" The drunk replied. Octavia pushed away from her friend and made her way over to some of the other, very drunk, crew members. The princess promised to keep a watchful eye on the girl, and to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. She looked over at Bellamy, and saw him watching his sister as well. At least they both had a protective instinct for their people in common, but that was pretty much it.
"Fuck this." Clarke sighed, drowning the rest of her drink with a grimace. She shook her dizzy head and grabbed another cup from a bystander, then made her way over to Octavia again, determined to have fun. Before she could reach the girl, however, the captain jumped up onto a pile of supplies and yelled, "Alright! Alright, you drunkards! I have an announcement, so shut it!" He waited for the crowd to die down, which they did even though they were drunk-which was a testament to Bellamy's power.
"Now I know this has been a busy past few days, but I have a few announcements to make. As you know, in a week or so, we'll be launching a rescue mission for our imprisoned friends! I will not let them stay in that fucking camp any longer! Atom's death has put us back a few days, but with the help of a new crew member, we are back on track to saving our people!" Bellamy paused to let a cheer rise, and raised his hand for silence.
"Speaking of a new member, I'm glad to introduce our new healer! Clarke, come on up here!" He smirked. Clarke felt the moonshine roll in her stomach, and she immediately sobered up. What the hell was he doing?
"Clarke here is the one who was brave enough attend to Atom until he died. She's the one to thank for our new mission! She's one of us now, and I expect all of you to treat her so. That's all. Get back to drinking, do whatever the hell you want!" He yelled. "Whatever the hell we want!" The crew cheered back. A few came over and introduced themselves to Clarke, and by a few she meant the entire crew. The nervous blonde chugged down the last of her third drink, relaxing more and more with each sip.
"Thanks! Great to meet you too. Now that is my ass, and if you touch it again I swear I'll cut your hand off." Clarke threatened with a sickly sweet smile. One member, who was quite drunk, had kept grabbing her ass when she least expected it. The groper frowned, raised his hands in surrender, and wandered- or more like stumbled, off.
"Aren't we just so friendly?" A voice asked. Clarke turned to see Bellamy standing behind her, leaning against the railing with a full cup of moonshine in his hand. She rolled her eyes and walked over to lean on the railing next to him.
"Friendly. Yup." She stated, taking another swig from her drink.
"Might want to slow down there, tiger. You might actually have fun." Bellamy teased. She scoffed and swallowed another mouthful of the foul liquid.
"I can be fun." She stuttered.
"Yea, as much fun as one can have with a stick shoved so far up their ass." He retorted with a smile. Tipsy Princess was fun to mess with.
"I can! I do not have a stick up my ass. But say I'm not fun and you might have my foot shoved up your ass." She said with a raised eyebrow.
"You? Fun? Hmm. If you go over and play beer pong with the rest of the crew, I'll admit that sometimes you can maybe be fun." The Captain challenged. Clarke just nodded and handed him her empty cup.
"Watch and learn, oh great Captain." She teased, walking off to join in the game with some of the crew members.
"I have to say, that it was a tough game and I gave it my all. But I won and beat all their asses. So fess up mis'er." Clarke drawled. She'd just finished up playing beer pong with the crew, and was proud to say that she crushed them all. The crew all learned not to challenge Clarke to anything, because she was so competitive some of them thought they would actually die. Bellamy watched the game in amusement, and awe. He didn't know that such a petite girl could drink so much alcohol and still be standing, nevertheless killing it at beer pong. Sure, it was a little difficult considering the fact that they were at sea, and the ship wasn't totally still, but damn. Princess had game.
"I can see that. Now I think you should go on down and rest. You drank a lot and are gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning." Bellamy chuckled. Clarke pouted and batted away his hands.
"Nooooooo," She drawled out, "You have to admit that I can be fun first." Bellamy rolled his eyes, looking around to make sure the crew was either passed out or heading down to their quarters.
"Fine. You can be fun. When you're drunk." He admitted with a grin. The drunken girl grinned and swayed. This was the first time Bellamy had seen the princess laugh, or even smile. That fact saddened him for some reason, but Bellamy knew that some stories were best left unsaid.
"Told you!" She said happily.
"Yes, yes you did. Now let's go on to bed." Bellamy said, patting her on the shoulders. He wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and stooped down to help her down to her cabin. The duo stumbled around, and the drunk blonde mumbled apologies to the walls they bumped into.
"Alright, here we are. Casa de Clarke." Bellamy said as he threw open her door and tossed the stumbling drunk inside. She swayed back and forth and started to pull her shirt up to get ready for bed.
"Woah there," Bellamy said with a laugh. She was really drunk if she was undressing in front of him of all people. His laughter died out when he saw the mess of scars all over her back. There were whip marks, small bullet wound scars, and other strange marks that he didn't want to know what caused. Bellamy gently pulled her shirt down and led her to the bed. She didn't protest and only groaned. He helped her over to her bed and gently laid her down on the covers. Deciding to be a decent human being, Bellamy took of her shoes and threw a blanket on top of her before heading to leave. He felt like he owed her, and he wanted to know what, or who, had given her so many scars. But he knew she was too drunk to explain and Bellamy knew he wasn't ready for that conversation just yet.
"Wait. Will you stay with me for a bit? I promise its jus' a lil' bit. Just till' I go to sleep." The blonde mumbled, her voice muffled by the blanket on top of her.
"I don't know…" He hesitated. He barely knew the girl, let alone liked her. Respect, maybe a little.
"I don't like being alone you know. I was alone in the dark wall and I was alone in that camp with the dark. It was dark on the table with the white-coats. I don't like being alone in the dark. The dark is where the demons hide." Clarke whimpered. She knew somewhere where she was still rational that displaying this weakness in front of Bellamy was a bad idea and would bite her in the ass, but she was not being rational at the moment. She was drunk and tired and sick of being alone all the time. Bellamy had no idea what she was talking about, but he vaguely remembered Clarke mentioning being held in a prison camp before, and he knew he couldn't leave her. Whatever this little princess had gone through before falling onto his ship, must have been complete and utter hell.
"No worries. I'm here. You aren't alone anymore. Octavia, Monty, Jasper, all the crew. We're all here. We are family now." Bellamy comforted. He sat down on the foot of her bed and patted her leg. He heard a sigh of relief, and then the deep breaths of sleep. Bellamy sat on the bed for a few more minutes, wondering what could make the woman who literally tore a bullet out of her own body and stitched herself back up could be afraid of.
"Get in line!" The guard yelled, slashing his whip down at the prisoners. Clarke ignored the screams of the workers and kept hitting the stone in front of her with her pick. She learned the hard way not to help or protest when the guards were out. The scars on her back still ached. She'd been working for hours, and hadn't had any food or water for a day. What little rations were given to the prisoners were rotting and disgusting, but food was food. After a month in the camp, Clarke had gotten used to choking down whatever she could. Yesterday, however, when she tried to get her rations, she was denied the "food." Clarke knew what that meant, the whole camp did.
Whenever the white-coats took someone, they always starved them the day before. For whatever reason, nobody knew. But now Clarke was next to disappear into the lower level, where the screams echoed. Some came back from the lower level, but most didn't. If they did, they were scarred and had an empty look in their eyes, and soon died after coming back. Gossip spread of how Clarke was next, and now whatever alliances she had made with the other prisoners was gone. There were no long lasting relationships down here. Friendships were too risky. They did anything to survive; there wasn't room for others in this hell. It was later that night when the guards came and grabbed her. She had been lying in her corner, which she worked hard to get, when the guards grabbed her. They didn't bother being quiet, and Clarke didn't bother resisting. She'd seen what happened to those who resisted, and it wasn't pretty. Her heartbeat thrummed in her mind, and Clarke admitted to being afraid. A month ago, she was living it up in a castle as the Princess of a mighty kingdom, now she was the dirt underneath the guards shoes meant to be experimented on. Useless.
Clarke was thrown into a dark room, and pulled over to a bloodstained table with leather restraints. She fought back then, trying to get away to no avail. Moments later, she was strapped down and waiting for the white-coats.
"This one seems stronger than the others."
"That's because it's been here for only a month."
"Really? I'm impressed. It still seems in good condition."
"That's why we picked it."It. That was what she was. Not even human.
"Well, let's get started! What are we testing today?"
"Pretty much everything. I want to see how that worm works on a healthier, younger body."
Clarke swallowed thickly and pushed back her tears. She was terrified, scared shitless, but she was not going to let them have the satisfaction of seeing it. Clarke heard the men laughing and something opening. "
Here we are. Alright. I'm starting on the leg, and we'll see what happens from there." She heard the scratch of a pencil on paper, and then the white-coats dropped something on her leg. The thing burrowed itself in her flesh and ate away at her leg. Clarke screamed and screamed until her voice went hoarse. Worm after worm were carved out of her body and then placed back somewhere else. After a while, she went silent, listening to the sound of her flesh being eaten and the sound of pencil on paper. The next experiment was a drug that made Clarke so afraid. She hallucinated her greatest fears, seeing her father dead again, her mother dead, her friends dead. Horrors she'd never even thought of crept out of the depths of her mind and tortured her.
Day after day she was experimented on. They gave her food and water every once and a while. She heard them talking about how great of a subject she was, and how long she'd lasted so far. Days passed, and every hour was spent in complete misery. They cut her up, dumped acid on her, drugged her with strange substances, suspended her in a vat of strange liquid that itched and pricked at her skin, gassed her, and many more atrocities. Soon Clarke felt nothing but pain. Saw nothing but darkness. Heard nothing but the sound of the pencil against the paper and observations. Sometimes they starved her to see if it would affect the outcome of a drug or some device meant to torture. For a while she questioned why they did this to her, or to anyone, but now she just wished to be back up in her corner. Worrying about meeting her work quota and avoiding the guard's whips, not worrying about if she would live through the next hour.
After what felt like years, which was really only months, Clarke was finally released from the table and taken back to the mines. The feeling of being out of the dark room and with actual humans again was too much, and Clarke knew that she would escape somehow. She would survive. She had to. Of course, the men gave her no time to heal or even get used to being on her own two legs again before throwing her back in the fray. The only reason she survived those first couple of weeks back in the mines was because of him. He had helped her regain what strength she could and comforted her when she woke screaming in the night. But later he too betrayed her. He too left her forever.
He too died.
Clarke woke up to an immense headache and a groan. The memory of her time on the table was pushed back into the box it had been locked up in, and she tried not to think back on those months. Her head felt as if someone had bashed it in and shoved it into a cannon then shot it right into a brick wall. She sat up and let out another groan. This must be what a hangover felt like. The feeling definitely made her want to pour out any moonshine left on this boat, if she didn't drink it all last night. She slowly inched off of her bed and over to her cabinet to change clothes. Once she accomplished that task successfully, after too many failed tries, she slowly opened her door and headed for the kitchen. The loud bangs of pots and pans and the shouts of the crew made Clarke's head pound even more and she leaned against the wall leading to the kitchen and rubbed her temple.
"What the hell, I am never drinking any more alcohol ever." The blonde promised herself. Hangovers weren't worth it. As fun as last night was, she could have fun without the help of alcohol. Speaking of last night, Clarke could barely remember anything. She remembered beer pong, and drinking competitions with some of the crew, but the rest of the night was fuzzy. Yea, she was definitely staying away from moonshine for a while.
"Hey Clarke!" called some of the crew, who were busy chugging down some rations before heading out to work. She smiled in response and grabbed her bread ration and some water and sat down in the corner of the room. She munched on her bread, still feeling a bit nauseous, but not enough to keep her from eating. Sipping the cool water was heavenly, and when she was finished, she left the kitchen and headed out on the deck. The cool breeze and fresh air gave Clarke the boost she needed, and she breathed in the salty sea air and relaxed a bit.
"So you finally woke up!" Octavia called from across the ship. Clarke squinted in the sun, the brightness sending another pounding headache into her head.
"I wish I was still asleep." She complained, but her mouth formed a smile.
"I'm guessing that hangover is killer, right?" Octavia asked with a laugh. Clarke just groaned in response, which was enough information for the giggly brunette.
"Don't worry. You get used to it." She said.
"I hope not." The two girls walked over to where they stored their practice swords and started stretching. They had fallen into a daily routine: wake up, warm up, train, cool down, eat, and then chores. Clarke was happy to have the practice, she desperately needed it, and Octavia was happy to have a friend who would actually fight back and not worry about hurting her. Having the captain as a brother was great, until he forbade anyone from even touching her, let alone accidentally hurting her in a sparing match. With Clarke, Octavia didn't have to worry about someone going easy on her. The girls faced each other with their blades held out in a fighting stance, and began to spar.
"You…are…getting-shit! Better!" Octavia said between slashes. She cursed when Clarke disarmed her with a twisting move she'd shown her the other day. It wasn't the most honorable of tricks, but it worked.
"It's all thanks to you." Clarke panted. The two sweaty girls paused to catch their breath and chug down some water. They looked out onto the ocean, listening to the sounds of the crew and the waves crashing against the ship.
"Captain!" Monroe's voice echoed. Clarke looked up to the crow's nest, where Monroe was keeping watch, to catch a clue of what was happening.
"Ship ahead!" Her voice called down. Clarke jumped up and ran to the port bow with some of the crew. Her heart sank in her chest when she saw the recognizable seal on the flag flying from the ship. Even though it was barely distinguishable from the distance, Clarke knew those colors well. She had grown up in a castle filled with those colors.
"It's a royal ship." Clarke whispered, her voice cracking. Shit. She just had to run into a Royal ship in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with nowhere to run.
"Octavia, I need to get Bellamy." Clarke said urgently to the girl, who was looking at the ship in wonder.
"I've never seen a royal ship before! Well, at least when it wasn't shooting at us." Octavia rambled.
"You know the drill! Hide the goods, get ready to be merchants!" Bellamy called out. He had just come out of his cabin and took quick control of the situation. They were pirates after all, not the most legal occupation.
"Bellamy!" Clarke called through the chaos. Cannons and armaments were being moved down below into hidden compartments in the deck and the crew was running around to fix up the ship.
"What now Princess?" Bellamy sighed. He looked at the frantic blonde and wondered why she was so freaked out.
"They can't know I'm here." She breathed.
"And why is that?" Bellamy asked condescendingly. He noted the fearful look in her eyes and he felt concern bubble within him.
"I'm the p- I can't tell you. I just can't be seen! If they see me, they will sink this ship and kill everyone on board. Probably including me, but that isn't important now." Clarke rambled nervously. She wanted to tell someone her secret. It was terrible keeping it all covered up and the lies left a rotten feeling in Clarke's stomach. If a thieving pirate captain had to be the one she confided in, so be it. But whenever she came close, she remembered how the crew talked about the monarchy. She overheard countless conversations talking about how corrupt and unfair the government was, and how it made them into criminals and chased them away from their families, or killed their families. Clarke knew the government needed to change, and she knew how corrupt it was, it was why she ran away in the first place. She was sure that if the crew found out she's the fucking princess of said government, they would kill her.
"You gotta give me something, princess." Bellamy said. He wanted to help Clarke, but he didn't like it when people-let alone his own crew- kept secrets from him. Clarke growled in exasperation and looked over at the other ship again, noticing how much closer it was.
"You know that nickname you have for me?" She blurted. Bellamy nodded slowly, not understanding where she was going.
"It's pretty accurate." She said softly.
"What do you mean?" Bellamy asked slowly, the gears in his head turning.
"Clarke! Don't you have to hide?" Octavia called. She grabbed Clarke's arm and pulled her away from the bewildered Captain.
"Cause you're a noble right? So I'm pretty sure that a royal ship wouldn't want to find a noble on a ship like this." Octavia said, as if it was common sense. Clarke mentally slapped herself, repeatedly. She could've just used that with Bellamy instead of practically blowing her cover.
"Right! That makes sense…" Clarke muttered to herself.
"Come on, I know the perfect place." Octavia said, pulling Clarke into Bellamy's cabin. Clarke looked back at the Captain before letting herself be pulled in. His brow was furrowed in concentration and he held his rapier so tight his knuckles turned white. She swallowed the lump in her throat and knew she had to deal with this catastrophe later. Octavia opened up the closet of Bellamy's cabin, and Clarke tried not to sniff the Bellamy smell of firewood and cinnamon. Octavia pulled out a section of the back wall and gestured for Clarke to get in. Clarke froze. No. Not again. She couldn't go in the wall again. Last time she hid in the wall-space her father had been brutally killed. Her breath came out in raspy gasps and Clarke tried to conceal her panic.
"Hey, don't worry! It'll only be for a little bit, and Bell keeps this space pretty clean since it's usually where his treasure is. Don't tell him I said that." Octavia said reassuringly, mistaking Clarke's panicked expression for fear of hiding. She was partially right, but there was no way this girl could understand the scope of what she was asking. Clarke looked into Octavia's eyes, and was surprised to see true understanding in the girl's eyes. She nodded and slowly knelt down and crawled into the wall-space. Octavia gently placed the wooden panels back into place and then there was silence.
Clarke took deep breaths and closed her eyes, counting to ten over and over again. She heard thumps and felt the ship rock and knew that some of the Royal guard had boarded. Her heart was beating out of her chest and Clarke could feel her entire body shaking. Flashes of blood and screams filled her senses and she pulled her knees in closer to her chest. Her breathing came out in chokes and gasps and Clarke felt an impending sense of doom. She knew she was going through a panic attack, and she tried to do her breathing exercises to calm down. Nothing was working.
She knew she hadn't been in the space for long, but it felt like years. Seconds turned to months and minutes to centuries. She vaguely heard some of the guards rummaging around in Bellamy's room and she was able to slow her breathing to make sure they didn't hear her. She felt the ship rock again, but Clarke was shaking like a leaf in the wind and the world seemed to be turning upside down. The dark was seeping into her skin and she could see her father through the crack in the wall again. He was kneeling in front of the dark figure and then the sword was stabbing him again and again and again and again-again-again-again. Clarke distantly heard quiet whimpers and knew she was making the pathetic noises. She could hear Octavia laughing and Bellamy's low rumbling chuckle, but she was unable to stop her panic and compose herself in time. The hidden panels were pulled away and light seeped into the crawlspace.
"Clarke? Clarke what's wrong?" Octavia exclaimed. Clarke sobbed and she hid her face in her hands.
"I-it's o-o-k-kay. I'll b-be f-f-f-fine. Just g-give m-me a minute." Clarke stuttered. Her heart fluttered in panic and the impending sense of doom was overwhelming.
"You're not ok. O, can you give us a minute?" Bellamy said gently.
"What? Why?" She protested.
"Remember when we took you out after a long time? It's similar. Just go." Bellamy said softly. Octavia opened her mouth in protest, and then closed it. She knew what her brother was talking about. She knew how it felt to be trapped. The only thing that helped her was Bell, so Octavia nodded and left.
"Clarke, it's okay now. Just come on out. You don't have to be trapped anymore." Bellamy said soothingly. He gently helped Clarke out of the crawl-space and into an open area. He reluctantly pulled her closer to him and placed her shaking body between his legs and wrapped himself around her as a human security blanket.
"Shhh, shhh. It's okay." Bellamy muttered. He whispered comforting words into her ear until she stopped shaking. They sat there on the floor for a few more minutes, just holding on to something real. Clarke took a few deep breaths and counted to ten until she felt calm again.
"I'm sorry." Her voice said, muffled by his shirt. "It's okay. It's all good now." Bellamy replied. He didn't ask any questions just yet, but both of them knew there would be a lengthy conversation soon.
"You're surprisingly good at this for being such an ass all the time." Clarke said with a small laugh. She felt Bellamy's rumbling laugh and smiled. For some reason, she felt safer than she had in a long time in the arms of the pirate who kidnapped her. Clarke slowly unwound her body from his and stood up with an awkward cough.
"Thanks again. Umm, I'm just gonna go ahead and-" Clarke muttered, trying to make it to the door.
"Not so fast, princess. You just had a panic attack, and a pretty shitty one based on what I saw. What the hell? You have to explain something. I need to know I can trust you." Bellamy implored. She swallowed and sighed.
"Let's just say that the last time I was in a crawlspace like that, I saw my father brutally murdered. Is that enough?" She asked. The captain looked at her for a second, his gaze softening.
"I don't like dark, cramped spaces. Nothing good comes from them." Clarke explained nervously. Even though she had told him about her father, she wasn't ready to talk about her true identity or her past in the camp just yet. Bellamy sensed her unease and didn't push the issue. He nodded and let her leave. He heard Octavia squealing outside and knew his sister was hugging Clarke and begging for answers. Bellamy had not expected a royal ship to be patrolling this far south, and he remembered the way Clarke had frantically begged for him to hide her. What did she mean that his nickname for her was "pretty accurate?" He knew she had a dark past, and that she was obviously from a royal family. He recalled how she had drunkenly revealed that she didn't like the dark because of a wall and a white-coat. A lightbulb went off as he connected the wall-space to her father's death. Made sense for her to be afraid of small cramped spaces if she watched her own father murdered from in one, but what was the white coat? Bellamy sat down in his chair, enveloped in his thoughts. One of the papers on his desk caught his eye, and he noted one of the notations he made in the margin:
"In some of the camps, it is rumored that terrible experiments are conducted on the prisoners, usually ending in death. These doctors stain their white lab coats blood and death for 'science'."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Bellamy whispered to himself. It all made sense. The scars, the fear, the white-coats. She had said she was held in a camp before. Fuck. That small blonde girl had been tortured in a prison camp and experimented on! The realization shook Bellamy to his core, and he rubbed his temple. What horrors had she experienced at such a young age?
This girl was going to be the death of him.
I hope that wasn't too much bellarke, since I'm trying a slow burn. I hope you enjoyed, and I had some trouble with the formatting, so tell me if it turned out ok! Thanks!
