A/N: This chapter was meant to be up yesterday, when I had a full day to work on it. But of course, everything happened at once and it got to eleven at night and I still hadn't read through it. Plus I was knackered since I went over to my cousin's this week to help her look after her two little girls, both under three years old – such sweet children, but one of them is at the stage where she keeps asking "But why? But why?" to anything you say, which makes you want to bang your head against the wall for something else to do. But thankfully I managed to find the time today to edit, even though I had such a hellish day at work.
I'm quite pleased with this chapter. It was a lot shorter than before, but I added quite a few bits to it, which is why it took a lot longer to edit. For those of you that love long chapters, you'll be pleased to know this one's over twelve thousand words. Again, the next chapter needs a lot adding to it to, so it may take me a little while to get it done – hopefully no more than a week. I have a free weekend, so if all goes to plan that it should be fine (though we all know what happens to best laid plans).
And seriously? Nearly thirty reviews for the last chapter?! You guys are INCREDIBLE. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, honestly, each one of them makes me burst into a grin. You're all amazing – thank you! Hope you love this chapter even more!
Summary: "I am going to offer you a deal. Your companion can be taken back, left close to your city, and go free. He will be unharmed. In return, you have to agree to join our tribe." An AU story where Clarke stumbles upon a Grounder tribe. In return for sparing the life of her boyfriend, she has to go with them as part of their tribe. Reluctantly she agrees, though it doesn't mean that she has to like it, particularly their leader, Bellamy Blake. Bellarke story with some Linctavia.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The 100 or any of the characters; I also do not own any quotes/poetry/lyrics used in this fic.
Bravery
"When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn't make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares are still walking. When we hold each other we feel not safe, but better. 'It's all right' we whisper, 'I'm here, I love you,' and we lie: 'I'll never leave you.' For just a moment or two the darkness doesn't seem so bad."
Neil Gaiman, Neil Gaiman's Midnight Days
She must be tired or stressed, because it takes Clarke a moment to realise what's happened. A moment in which Bellamy knocks the glass out of Clarke's hand. Sure enough the liquid creates a sizzling noise when it lands on the food, the smell so strong she wants to step back. Bellamy doesn't spare a moment before he leaps over Clovis (who gives a girlish squeal and ducks under the table) and grabs Octavia's glass, but not before she's taken a sip.
Clarke is beside Octavia in a second. "Are you okay?"
"What's going on?" Lincoln asks. He has put down his own glass and moves to her, his face braced, like he's preparing the worst. Bellamy glances at Clarke, leaning towards his sister. She sees his feet tapping over the floor, and his eyes are already searching the crowd.
Octavia glances between the three of them. "I'm fine," she insists. "Nothing's wrong – right?" she adds when she sees Bellamy's face.
He looks over at Clarke. "It would have been instant," she confirms. Her heart is still racing, and she keeps going through all the things she knows about poisons in her head and coming to the same conclusion: Octavia's okay. Something that burns through flesh like that, the affects would be instant. She stands, quickly scanning the faces of the crowd. Everyone is watching and murmuring, some standing, but no one else seems to have collapsed. Everything's okay, she tells herself. She wishes her body would listen. Her legs feel like they're shaking.
Bellamy whips round to Niala, who is the only one that has the guts to step forward. "What is this?" he snarls.
"Your Grace, I swear-"
"You swear? We were almost killed!"
She's never seen Bellamy like this before. Usually he's calm, quietly handling problems with consideration. But now it's like he's been lit on fire, and despite knowing him, knowing that he won't hurt her, Clarke backs away. She can see the warrior in him now, the man that fought a war; the man that killed.
There are shouts, and the crowd grows agitated, moving like a restless wave. She turns her head and sees some people arguing, tribe against tribe. Voices grow louder, and a man is sent sprawling. More yells, and she watches as people begin to fight.
"Clarke!" She focuses back on Bellamy; he's half-turned, but she sees his hand go to the dagger on his belt. "Get back to the house."
She feels shivers spread through her body, a certain lightness in her limbs; but instead of wanting to run, she goes towards him. "I'm not leaving you. You need my help-"
He spins, grabbing hold of her so hard that she cries out. "Now is not the time to have this argument! I have to sort this, and I can't be distracted with your safety!* You're going back-" He thrusts her backwards and she feels someone catch her – Links. "You too Octavia!"
"Bell-" Clarke sees Octavia fight towards her brother, but it's Lincoln that grabs hold of her.
"Octavia, go-"
"We can sort this – I'm not leaving you Lincoln-"
She watches the man dip his head, pressing a kiss against Octavia's lips. That's all he can do before he presses her into the hands of the guards surrounding them and they are led out the tent. Clarke is yelling for Bellamy, eyes right on him, but people block her view and she watches as he's swallowed into the crowd. The last thing she sees before she is forced out is Clovis hastily ducking his head back under the tablecloth.
"Links, let me go!" She struggles in his arms, but the man's grip barely needs to tighten to keep hold.
"I'm sorry Princess, but we need to get you to safety."
"I would have been safe with Lincoln!" cries Octavia, who is putting up a much better fight. By now they have reached the house. Links and Solo remain guarding the front door, and they can already see people – guards – securing the house, the back door and outside the windows.
Octavia rounds on Clarke. "What happened?" she demands.
"The cups – the drinks were poisoned, mine and Bellamy's," Clarke stutters.
"By who?"
"I – I don't know. How would I know?"
Octavia lets out a little groan and sinks onto the chair. "Gods no," she whispers.
"What does this mean?" Clarke asks. She kneels beside Octavia. "Does this mean war? Octavia!" she almost shouts, giving her a little shake.
"War," is Octavia's reply. Her hands go over her eyes. "Gods, this might end everything! I might not be able to marry Lincoln!"
She thinks Octavia may have missed the point. Octavia must notice this because she says, "I know war's the worst thing. But – I love him Clarke." Her face is so pinched that Clarke feels a stab of sympathy.
Clarke places a hand on the girl's knee. "It'll be okay. Bellamy will sort it out."
Octavia snorts through her hands. "Bellamy will leap down their throats. You know he will."
Clarke finds it hard to argue with that. The two girls wander restlessly round the room, too anxious to even think about going upstairs to change, before someone comes in. "I thought you would want to eat," says Cora. She is carrying a tray with a cover over it, and when she lifts it up she reveals bowls of stew. She goes towards the fire, sitting on a footstool. "Let's eat on our knees," she suggests. She looks in the direction of the girls. "I think after all the excitement we deserve a little relaxation."
Neither of the girls sit down. "Where's Bellamy?"
"And Lincoln?"
"There's a meeting," says Cora. She gestures to the seats opposite her. "Last I heard, Bellamy didn't sound happy. I could hear Clovis pleading with him-"
Clarke can't help the small smile, pleased over the idea of Clovis begging for the alliance. Octavia clearly isn't. "Tell me that the alliance is still on." She practically throws herself at Cora. "Babaduo, please. You have to get me out, I need to see Lincoln and Bellamy."
Cora reaches out, touching her cheek. "Child, I agree with your brother on this one. Let's just keep you two safe. It was a very near miss – too near for comfort, or for your brother to ignore the dangers of the Northern tribe."
Clarke thinks of how easily she and Bellamy could have been dead. If they hadn't knocked arms they would have drunk the poison, and probably would not have lived a minute longer. She says a silent thanks that she is left-handed and Bellamy is right-handed.
They eventually eat their stew, though Octavia fidgets through it all. The night has truly settled, and they see the carts heading outside the village before Bellamy comes back. He looks knackered, eyes heavy and shoulders sagging, that Clarke resists the urge to pounce on him.
Octavia, however, has no such qualms. "What happened?" she demands, striding towards him. "Is the alliance still on? Am I allowed to marry Lincoln?"
Clarke admires the fact that he keeps his temper. He holds up a hand to silence her, and she can see he is trying not to yell. "The alliance is still on. Clovis and Niala deny that they had anything to do with it, and I can't find any proof that they're lying. So I have agreed that provided no one else is hurt, and that nothing else is done, the alliance will stand. Including your marriage to Lincoln." Octavia exhales when she hears that. "However, I've sent them all back and told them that as long as nothing else happens, Lincoln can return in a month. Don't fight me on this Octavia," he says when her face screws up. "I mean it. I've had people breathing down my neck all day and I am not in the mood for another argument. One word and I swear I will end this agreement."
Octavia seems to know not to push her luck. After a few moments she reaches up and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you're okay," she says.
He nods, a half-smile gracing his face. "Lincoln's outside. You can say goodbye on the porch." Clarke sees Octavia's lips purse at the thought of saying goodbye in front of the guards, but after a moment she nods and steps outside.
Cora stands. "I think I'll leave too." She places her hands on Clarke's head, giving her a gentle kiss on her forehead. She does the same with Bellamy. "You two stay safe," she calls as she strides outside. The door closes, leaving the two of them alone in what seems like forever.
"Are you alright?" they say at the same time.
They smile at each other. She thinks this might have been the first time that he's truly smiled all day. "I'm fine," he says. "Just exhausted."
"Have you eaten?" Bellamy's pause tells her everything, and after a moment she returns from the kitchen with the last of Cora's stew. He tucks into it gratefully, and Clarke waits until he's finished before she questions him.
"So what happened?" she asks quietly. She is sitting beside him, in front of the fire so he can get warm.
Bellamy leans over, putting his head in his hands. "It was a nightmare," he mutters. "I don't know who's done it, so I have no way to stop it from happening again. We'll have to have all our food taste-tested from now on."
She digests this. "Octavia won't like it."
"I don't like it either," says Bellamy. "But we have to do it. I can't risk this again, not when I don't know the culprit. For gods' sake Clarke, you were nearly killed."
"We both were," she corrects. "But I'm glad you didn't break the alliance. Even if we had been killed, it wouldn't have been worth other people's lives."
Bellamy glances at her then, and she thinks he might disagree. But the moment passes and he nods wearily. "This is not how I wanted this day to turn out."
"You did great," Clarke argues. Bellamy only nods but he doesn't look convinced. A few minutes pass before she finds the nerve to ask the question that's been bugging her, and when she does it comes out in a jumble. "Bellamy, you wouldn't replace Octavia with me, would you?"
"What?" He frowns at her.
"Clovis was saying about me going to visit him in his village – before it all happened. I wondered whether, since I'm a princess-"
He gets it almost instantly, and in that moment all the tension disappears from his face. "No Clarke." He leans towards her, his hand going on her leg. "I have no intention, nor will I ever, of sending you away. Having Octavia marry to secure an alliance – well, it was always going to happen. But we wouldn't do that with an outsider. I mean, it's hard enough to get you to stay here, never mind sending you away."
Of all the relief she has felt today, this is the strongest, the kind that almost makes you want to cry. Impulsively she hugs him. It's a full hug, where she wraps her arms round his body and leans into him, like she can't bear to be without him. It only takes a moment before he returns it. His arms wrap round her, and it's that simple movement, the fact he's holding her, that makes her feel secure.
"Thank you," she whispers, her mouth buried into his shoulder, so she's not quite sure he's heard it. But she can feel his smile, and she absorbs it, stores it away for when she needs it. "You're welcome, Princess."
When they pull away there is a moment where neither is sure what to do. She stands. "It's late."
He nods.
She gets to the stairs before she pauses. Turning round, she asks, "You won't be long, will you?"
He's looking at her, like he's not sure what to make of her question. Still, he can't stop the corners of his mouth from lifting upwards, just slightly. "I'll be there in five minutes."
She nods back before she heads upstairs. After all, she'll be a lot safer if Bellamy is with her.
XI
For the next few weeks things in the village are incredibly tense. Rumours start that there are members of the other tribe lurking in the forest, waiting for some of them to venture out. Bellamy actually has to lead a hunting party to prove it's safe. Many of the tribe are calling for the end of the alliance, and he spends hours in council meetings arguing against it. His mood ranges from irritable to furious, and Clarke learns when to keep quiet; Octavia, on the other hand, has never learnt tact when it comes to her brother, and the fights that the two of them have send everyone hiding in their rooms.
They are under a guard for now, and even though it's Bellamy that's ordered it, he hates the fact he's being babysat in his own house. Servants are taste-testing the food too, which none of them are happy about.
"It's not right that they should be the ones poisoned," hisses Octavia into Clarke's ear.
Clarke gives a helpless shrug. "Don't say anything." Bellamy's been in a horrid mood all evening; his reactions consist of snapping at anyone who speaks and staring into the distant, brooding.
She gives a humourless laugh. "I'm not insane."
He's quiet when they go up. The light is out but she knows he's not asleep. They used to talk a little before, but these days Clarke doesn't know how to start it.
She knows it must be very late – or early, depending on how you look at it, and it feels like until Bellamy sleeps she won't either. She rolls over, looking at his shape in the dark. "Can't sleep?"
She sees him turn his head. "Not tonight. Not for a few nights now. But you know that." He rolls over on his side, and she thinks she feels his arm stretch a little closer to him. "You haven't slept much either."
Clarke sits up in bed. "Come here."
It's pitch black; the fire's gone out now. But she can still see him raise his head a little. "Why?"
She gives a sigh. "Bellamy, I do almost everything you say. Can't you just do what I say for once?"
He gives a weak chuckle but moves towards her. Under her instruction he places his head on her lap. She begins to massage his head, trying to remember how her mother would do this when she was little. Her mom always said that being a healer meant giving people comfort, however it was needed.
"You're very good at this," he murmurs after five minutes, eyes closed.
"Maybe then you'll finally get some sleep."
"And maybe I'll be a better mood?" He opens his eyes sleepily, and now that her eyes are adjusting she can see his smile. "I know I've been a pain."
"But you're scared."
He pulls a face. "I'm not scared. I'm just-" He sighs. "I'm worried. People are unsettled, and I don't like it." He sits up, ignoring the annoyed mew from Clarke. "I know I need to act like it doesn't matter. I need to believe that everything's alright, and my confidence will spread to everyone else. But..."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It was so close," he whispers. "We were so close to being killed Clarke. I grew soft in my belief that I was untouchable, and I've been proven that I'm not."
"Bellamy, we're fine. All of us are okay."
"For gods' sake Clarke, you could have died," he snaps.
His bad mood has reappeared. If Octavia was here she would snap back, and there would be a fight in less than a minute. Clarke knows this, which is why she lifts the corners of her mouth a little. "Didn't know you cared so much."
"Of course I care," he says, a hint of – of something, in his voice. "I'm not going to let you die. If I had wanted you dead I would have decided to kill you the second we found you."
"Thank you," she says. This time it isn't sarcastic or irritated. She's being honest. He could have left her to die, allowed the guards to slit her throat, but he didn't. He let her live, and it's only recently she has realised that she wouldn't have been better off.
She puts a hand on his head. "You're taking every precaution, and I know you hate it, but I think you're doing the right thing. Soon we'll find out who did this and it'll all die down – and things will go back to normal, like you said." She runs a hand through his hair, smoothing a little back. "You can talk to me, y'know."
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"I mean about ruling," she insists. "It can't be easy for you, having to take it all on yourself. I just... You can talk to me. I won't tell anyone, not even Cora or Octavia-"
His hand goes over hers. "I know you wouldn't," he says softly. "Thank you for the offer." He leans back down on the bed, but this time he does so in a position so Clarke is lying next to him. They've grown used to sleeping beside each other, but this time Bellamy turns his head so his nose is beside her head. They are so close that she can feel his body heat. She doesn't turn her head to face him, but she moves just a little bit closer to him; an acknowledgement.
They both sleep right through the night after that.
XII
Winter is truly here now, and everyone is busy. Bellamy organises it so everyone gets warm food (their version of a soup kitchen) and Clarke helps him make sure that everyone has warm clothes. Any animals that are caught are skinned, and their thick fur is placed across doorways to keep the rooms warm. Bonfires are lit in the streets (well, dirt roads) and at the centre of the village, so people have a chance to keep warm. Winter is never an easy thing to bear anywhere, and here it is life and death.
"I hate it," Clarke says bluntly. After another exhausting day she and Bellamy are in the bedroom, sitting by the fire. The servants have put a hot-pan at the bottom of the bed, so when they get in the sheets won't be cold.
"So do I," he says, but manages a smile. "It doesn't last long. Believe it or not, this coldness has been late coming. And once February's here things will get better. It's January that's the hard month."
"I can't wait until it's over."
His movement would seem subtle to anyone else – maybe it is subtle, but to Clarke every gesture he makes catches her eye. He moves to sit beside her, kindly not blocking her from the roaring fire. "You'll love spring," he tells her. "First the greenness comes back, and then all the flowers sprout up, and once the buds open it's beautiful. And there's all the baby animals, like lambs and calves and little chicks..."
She grins. She's never seen the baby animals before, and she knows she'll be peering over the gate, watching them.
She and Bellamy go to bed, slipping the pan out to the floor. The sheets are toasty, but these days Clarke doesn't move too far from Bellamy. He is more forward than she is, moving his head close to her before he goes to sleep.
"You seem to have relaxed a little bit," she murmurs.
"I'm too busy to worry about murder attempts," comes his reply.
She is looking at him, and she doesn't miss the flicker in his eyes that gives away that he's deep in thought. She shifts closer. "Tell me."
He shakes his head. "Not right now. I don't want to think about it, not when..." He shakes his head again, and simply moves closer to her. His head is just above hers, and she has to resist the urge to push her nose into his neck.
The next day Clarke is walking through the village, trying not to slip on the iced ground, when she sees some activity in the med bay. Her heart hammers and is almost ashamed to admit that she feels a little exhilaration. This is what she's good at. This is what she's knows.
She bursts in the med bay, one of the best houses in the village. She immediately sees that someone is in trouble. The healer, who she now knows as John, is bent over a man whose chest is wheezing.
She goes besides him. "What do we have?"
"It's a cold, but his chest can't take it. He's got a slight fever and-" John jerks her head up when he sees it's her. That's a surprise: usually he doesn't pay attention to who's helping him, just as long as they are helping. It's one of the things she likes about him.
But now she sees his eyes widen. "Princess Clarke, you can't be here."
She waves his concerns away, leaning over the man – Michael, she thinks his name is. "Bellamy needs to get off his high horse-" She goes to feel the man's head, but John grabs hold of her hand. She cricks her neck at him, eyebrows up.
"Princess, the King will not like it at all. This man is contagious-"
"This man needs help," she corrects. She reaches down again, but this time she feels stronger hands pull her away. Links is right behind her, and he yanks her out of the med bay in under three seconds.
"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice is harsh, but it's a little squeaky too. Links is never like this; he is usually very good about telling her why he's pulling her away – in fact he rarely ever pulls her away. But he doesn't answer her as he drags her back towards the house.
He gets her back in record time, pushing past the guards that still linger by the doors. Bellamy is in the living room, discussing repairs over some of the houses that aren't fit for winter. When he sees Links dragging her in he leaps up, striding towards them.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know!" Clarke is finally released, and she glowers at Links. She is a little reassured when she hears Bellamy's harsh tone of voice.
Links has the nerve to look dignified. "The Princess was in the med bay, tending to a contagious man. I felt it necessary to remove her from the situation."
"The situation is that someone is ill and I should be helping-" Clarke begins to walk away, but this time it's Bellamy's hand that grabs her.
"Thank you Links," Bellamy says quietly, nodding to him. "Have a break. We've got enough guards right now." Mollified, Links nods and leaves.
She rounds on Bellamy. "What do you mean, thanking him?" she spits out.
"Mabel," calls Bellamy loudly, his eyes still on her. "Please get the bath ready." He hears a reply before pushing Clarke upstairs.
"Bellamy, I have to go and help. If they are contagious then we need to set up quarantine, I know how to do that! It's winter – people are sick, and I can – Bellamy, answer me!"
"Not here," he says through gritted teeth. "We can talk when we get into the bedroom."
She snatches her arm away. "We can argue right here," she snaps.
His scowl is so fierce that it could freeze people in their tracks. He grips her hard, so intense that Clarke's certain it'll leave a bruise. "You have been around a sick person."
"I'm a healer-"
"But you're a princess first," snaps Bellamy. They are in the bedroom, and the tub is still in there from this morning. A few girls are already pouring hot water in there, and they pause when they see the two of them enter. Bellamy glances at them meaningfully before looking back at Clarke. "Have a bath. We'll talk when I return."
"We will talk now. Don't you dare walk away from me," yells Clarke. She doesn't think she has shouted at him like this, not since he first forced her to share his room.
Bellamy's hand is on the door, and he glares back at her. "The bath is full enough," he says to the servants. "Leave us." They do, scurrying out. She can bet they will be gossiping about this for a good few days.
"That man is ill. If I can help him, I should. Just because I am a princess doesn't mean that I'm better than anyone else."
"I wouldn't use your words," he says. "But a member of the royal family, particularly a princess, cannot be around sick people. It puts you in danger of getting ill. Members of the royal family do not tend to people if that's the case – not just you but me or Octavia. It's how it's always been done."
"That's a stupid rule," she snaps, and sees Bellamy's hackles rise ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry that you see it that way." His voice is quiet and carefully restrained, but that's how Clarke knows he's trying to keep his temper. "But it's a rule all the same, and you will obey it whether you like it or not. Now get in the bath."
"Why should I?"
"Aren't you a healer? Didn't you train to be one?" snaps Bellamy. "The hot water will get rid of germs."
"You can't boss me about," she cries.
"I am King," he returns. "I can boss everyone about." He turns away, and over his shoulder calls back, "I will come back in five minutes. If you aren't in the bath you know I will take it upon myself to put you in there." As the door slams shut Clarke lets out an annoyed scream. If he hears, he ignores it.
By the time he comes back Clarke is in the bath. She hates the fact she is in a vulnerable position – she daren't move too much in case he sees some of her naked body. They still turn away from each other when they're changing. And right now, when Clarke is angry, she doesn't want to show any sign of weakness.
His face is still stony, and she guesses that it must mirror hers. "I have talked to John and set up quarantine on his advisement-"
"On my advisement-"
"Have you grown up?"
"Have you?" she retorts.
"I was not in the wrong."
"No?"
"No."
"Then tell me: was Links following me like before?"
He turns away, which gives her his answer.
"I told you I don't need a bodyguard."
"Yes you do!" he returns, and for the first time his voice rises. "Someone tried to kill you – I need someone looking out for you. And don't you dare say you can take care of yourself." He turns, only to whirl back round to her. "I swear, it's like you want to die: either from poison or from illness. We don't have fancy medicines like in the cities here – we can only do so much."
"I can help-"
"No."
"I don't want Links following me about," she says. She is staring at the bath water as she speaks, but she can feel her temper rising. "I'm not a doll. Octavia can take care of herself, you don't place a bodyguard on her-"
"You're wrong. Lincoln is with her. I've had a word with him, he knows to watch out for her."
"Stop interfering!"
"I have every right to interfere! And I have every right to place someone to guard you. If you want, I can look after you, but-"
"Well, I suppose I should be happy with Links then."
His jaw works. "I'd best be going. I have things to do," he says pointedly, and she bristles. "Don't go anywhere near the med bay, or I will put you on house arrest."
They aren't speaking to each other. Clarke skips dinner, saying she doesn't feel well, though no one is fooled. Bellamy takes his time coming upstairs, and when he does arrive she is in bed. Her back is facing him and he doesn't speak to her as he changes. Her skin crawls when she feels his weight on the mattress. She would happily push him out if she could. But she knows that if she attempts to leave the argument will go much worse. A part of her wants to do it; she has the need for another fight. But she has the good sense to stay, even though she is burning inside.
Bellamy is taking another hunting trip out, though because it's cold he has little optimism for it. He'll be gone for two days, and at the moment she cannot be more relieved. He leaves early, and once again she hears him making noise. This time he doesn't bother being quiet; there is a lot of slamming drawers and clanging, and she knows it's for her benefit.
"You don't go anywhere near the med bay." His voice comes out from behind her. "Links will be looking after you, whether you like it or not. Okay?"
She keeps her eyes closed.
"Clarke."
"I hear you," she says, tactfully not agreeing.
She can practically see him pressing his lips together. "I have given Links full permission to drag you away if you endanger yourself. If you want everyone to see you screaming like a child, so be it." She hears him slam the door, louder than normal.
Despite Bellamy being gone, she is in a foul mood. Cora and Octavia know about the argument (it seems like the entire village knows) and the former sends the servants away and lets Clarke work out her anger by chopping herbs and vegetables for dinner, baking bread so she can pound her hands against it.
"Bellamy is a complete dick," she says as she makes her way through the sage.
"What have I been telling you?" asks Octavia, who is utterly cheerful, especially since Lincoln is back.
"I know. And at least I'm not related to him." She gives Octavia a look, which causes the girl to laugh.
Clarke looks to Cora. "You agree with me, don't you?"
"If you were a normal person, I would be on your side."
She stares. "You're on Bellamy's side?"
"I am," she says easily, almost happily.
"But why? I could have helped – you know better than anyone."
"One day you will understand." Clarke's not sure if it's her imagination, but she sees Octavia glance away, with what she thinks is a smile on her face. She begins to chop the vegetables faster.
Her mood abates by the time the two days are over, though she is dreading Bellamy's return. She knows that the two of them will fight the second he comes back. She first hears of their return walking back to the house on one of her daily strolls. She doesn't go to greet them (she sees Links' eyebrows rise at this) but back inside the house. She doesn't go upstairs though; instead she remains in the kitchen, going through her herbs. She's making a book with them in, so that other people will be able to find them when –
When she leaves.
The front door opens, but she doesn't go through. She keeps her head bent, even when she hears him come through and stop at the kitchen door.
"Clarke."
Slowly she raises her head, and then quickly jerks it right when she sees Bellamy. His face is covered in dried blood, cuts marring the left side of his face.
She is by his side in a second. "What happened?" she asks. "Was it the Northern tribe? Did they attack you?"
He puts a hand on her shoulder, lightly. "I'm fine."
"Like hell you are." She touches his face, watching him wince.
"It was a moose."
"A moose?"
Solo comes in. He too is covered in cuts, though he looks a lot better than Bellamy. "It got away from His Grace the first time. He had to purse it, didn't he?"
Bellamy glances at him. "Why does that sound like a criticism?"
"Does it?" Solo sounds surprised, innocent, though there is a spark in his eyes. "My apologises Your Grace. It didn't mean to be."
"Yeah, yeah," mutters Bellamy, waving a hand; he turns back to Clarke, but she talks over him.
"Why did you chase after a stupid moose? For God's sake, we have stores filled with meat. We didn't necessarily need more-"
"I don't think this is the time," he says as Solo bends his head, hiding his face. "I actually came because I need your help." She watches as he takes his jacket off, revealing a long plaster, half drenched in blood, up his arm. "That apprentice, Ginny, managed to make a plaster, but-"
"-she didn't stitch it," finishes Clarke. "And good thing too – I've seen her handiwork."
"I was wondering if you could stitch it up." She gazes at him, not bothering to disguise the widening of her eyes. Bellamy has the grace to look sheepish.
"I thought it wouldn't be safe for me," she comments.
Bellamy shoots a look at Solo, who tactfully walks back into the living room. "It wouldn't be safe for you to get ill. But I'm happy if you want to help in things such as stitching and operations. That is, if you show that you can handle it."
She deliberately pauses for a moment before nodding. "I'll go get my things." He nods back, a little thank you.
When she returns Bellamy is sitting at the table. One of the guards that remained, Jared, is giving Bellamy and update along with Links. The latter lifts his eyebrows at what Clarke is doing, but knows better than to say anything. She's barely listening to what they are saying as she boils some water and dips the cloth in. Gently she cleans the remaining dirt from the wound (what an idiot Ginny is) ignoring Bellamy's wince as she does.
She threads a sterilised needle and begins to stitch the wound. She hesitates, and then enters the skin – a bit sharply. Bellamy lets out a little inhale, noticeably. "Gods' Clarke."
"Sorry," she says, smiling a little too sweetly. Bellamy glowers at her as the guards give a slight titter. They go silent the instant he turns his face on them. She focuses on fixing the cut, more gentle than before. She carefully ties the chord together at the same moment he dismisses the guards.
"For gods' sake Clarke," he says as soon as they are gone. "I have a reputation y'know. Some people fear me."
"They're easily scared then." Bellamy closes his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts. She gets up, washing a cloth with fresh water before returning. "Did it break your nose?"
He nods. "Ginny set it. It's not that pain-" He winces when she touches it.
"It might be an idea to put some ice on it later," she advises. She gently puts the cloth on his face, dabbing the blood off. "Did she use some alcohol to sterilise the wound?"
"She did. Don't worry, she's not that bad." Clarke snorts.
There's a delicate pause, and Clarke realises, so stupidly, that she's cleaning Bellamy's face. She has her hand underneath his chin, staring right at him. Their eyes meet and he seems to notice this too. When other people have their faces this close, they're doing a very different activity. She forces herself to focus on her work so she doesn't go red, and wonders why the hell she needed to clean his face at all. He could have done that himself.
"So," he says, breaking the silence. "What have you been up to while I've been gone?"
She tilts her head, focusing on cleaning the cuts. "Is that a clever way of asking me if I've behaved myself?"
"It wasn't," he says. "I honestly wanted to know-"
"It's been fine," she replies, wanting to avoid an argument. "Nothing's happened here, and no, I haven't been to the med bay."
"I'm glad," he says, but his voice is gentle and it's clear he doesn't want a row either. He closes his eyes as she wipes just above his brow. "You feel okay?" he asks, and she briefly allows herself to wonder if he needed to keep his eyes closed to ask that.
"I feel better than you do," she says, with perhaps a hint of a snap, but all it does is make Bellamy laugh. "I'm fine," she clarifies. She sits back and lifts his chin up with her hand. "I think I've gotten most of it off." She should turn away, but she finds herself gently moving over his cuts, checking. "You'll have some bruising by tomorrow. Maybe a scar or two."
"I've looked worse." She smiles and gets up, turning away to gather her things together.
She looks at him. "Thank you," he says.
"My pleasure." She turns away before she goes red.
"If you want to look after the people who are injured similar to me, things like that..." She can practically hear him swallow. "I don't mind."
Her hands still for a moment as she's gathering her items back in her bag. "Thank you," she says, knowing it's the closest thing to an apology she's going to get. She begins to close her bag, wanting to hurry out before –
Before you do something you might not want to walk away from.
But his voice stops her. "Friends, then?"
She can't see his face, but his tone sounds so hopeful and... Vulnerable? Maybe even a little pleading? She half turns her head, and meets his eyes only briefly before she smiles. She sees his own nervous one before she confirms, "Friends," and walks back to the bedroom, not entirely certain what just happened.
From that day, Links stops being her bodyguard.
XIII
Winter feels long, the weak sun barely affecting any ice. But according to Bellamy this has been a good winter – usually they have a few feet of snow. "You must be good luck," he tells her. He says it in bed when they're half asleep, so she doesn't think there's anything in it.
The layer of ice that has stuck firm to the floor finally leaves, and the timid buds of flowers begin to struggle free. Clarke's not sure if it's her mood, pleased that winter is finally over, but the air already feels warmer. One day she is all set to go visit Cora when Bellamy appears. He has a grin on his face that reminds her of an excited child, and he says he has a surprise for her. She can't stop herself from smiling at him, at the way his feet dance over the ground as they walk.
"Bellamy, would you just tell me?" she asks as he leads her forward. "You can't keep it a secret, especially since I know the layout of the village now."
He returns her look with bright eyes. "Well, I thought since winter's over, it might be time for you to learn how to ride."
"Learn to-" She pauses, but now she is just as excited as Bellamy. She's wanted to learn how to ride ever since Bellamy first lifted her onto Elizabeth. She'll be able to run if she needs to, in case there is an attack. She'll be able to go out on her own, she'll –
She'll be able to escape.
For some reason she feels her legs slow a little.
"Are you going to let me use Elizabeth?"
"No. You're going to get you your own horse."
"My own?"
"There are a few horses for sale. We'll have a look at them and make a decision. We can always wait a little while or teach you on Elizabeth or Hosanna until we find one."
"Blake!"
She's never heard Bellamy be referred to by his last name. They turn at the same time. It's the blonde boy that is on the council with Bellamy – his name's Justin, though Clarke doesn't think she's actually ever had a conversation with him. She's probably not important enough to be on his radar.
She sees Bellamy's face fall, and it almost hurts to see that child-like glow leave it. "You go in," he tells her. "I'll be there in a minute."
She leaves, casting a glance behind her as Justin comes towards them. She doesn't like him. He always seems to be mad at Bellamy, always the first to be negative about his decisions. Not that Clarke doesn't understand that Bellamy can be annoying as hell, but even she lets up on him more than Justin. But then, she doesn't know what they're arguing about. She's not on the council.
In the stables she sees Elizabeth first, who pokes her nose out to say hello. Then she goes to Hosanna, who does the same, butting her shoulder gently. She pats him on the neck before wandering down the stalls, looking at the other horses. She spends more time in here than she would care to admit, and she knows most of the friendly horses. She nods and speaks to a few people, but the stables are quiet at this time – probably the reason Bellamy chose this time of day.
She's reached the end of the stables, and since the building is pretty big (almost everyone here has a horse, whether it belongs to a family or individual) she figures she had better turn back. As she spins round on her heel she catches sight of one of the horses in the stalls. She spins back round.
The horse is hidden in the corner. Clarke makes a clicking sound with her tongue, the same thing that Bellamy does when he wants a horse to come near. The horse turns his head, staring at her.
Her breath catches in her throat. He's beautiful. He has a slim shaped face with keen ears, and he doesn't have a stocky build like most of the horses here. But it's his colouring that stops her in her tracks. He isn't chestnut; he's red, not blood red, more like the darker side of fire. But he's definitely not the chestnut colour that most horses are. She's not sure how she would be able to describe it. But she's seen hundreds of horses in her time here, and none of them look like him. Her fingers twitch, and she wants to take a pencil and sketch him so she doesn't forget.
Without thinking she lets herself into the stall. He hasn't made any sign of being friendly towards her, and she knows that he could easily kill her with one kick of his leg. But there's something about him that makes her want to get closer.
"Hello beautiful," she murmurs. Cautiously she holds her hand out. She watches his eyes stare at her before he moves his legs. His nose nuzzles the palm of her hand, whiskers tickling her palm. "Sorry boy, I don't have any treats. Next time."
His ears flicker back like he's annoyed, and his tail twitches. But he doesn't move away. Instead he moves his nose down, nudging her clothes as if he doesn't believe her.
"Clarke." She turns, spotting Bellamy outside the stall.
"Hey," she greets, smiling at him. She turns back to the stallion. "Isn't he beautiful? Who does-"
"Get away from him, now." Even though he's interrupted her his voice is measured, like he doesn't want to spook her.
Her eyebrows crease. "Why?"
"He's vicious."
She wants to laugh out loud; almost does, but the expression on his face makes her catch herself. "No he's not. Look at him." She is now scratching his ear, and the horse is leaning into her hand, head lowered.
"Just because he's showing restraint for the first time in his life doesn't mean he's had a change of heart." Bellamy approaches the stall door, inching it open. "Please, move out the way."
She's not sure, but she thinks it's the first time he's used the word please with her. She gives the horse one last pat on the neck before she leaves. As soon as Bellamy is in reach he grabs her, yanking her out of harm's way and slamming the stall door. It may be her imagination, but she thinks the horse looks annoyed. His ears go back and he is still watching them.
"Don't ever go in a stall unless you know the horse," he tells her.
She rolls her eyes. "Another rule?"
"This one could save your life."
"He was perfectly fine," she says, gesturing to the horse. "He likes me. Who does he belong to?"
Bellamy grips her arm. "You are not learning to ride on him."
"I was just asking a question," she says. And it's true, but that question is definitely a leading one.
His lips purse. "He's mine."
"Yours? I thought you only owned Hosanna and Elizabeth."
"They're the ones I keep. I breed them; this is their second youngest, Blaze."
Blaze. "That's the perfect name for him." She likes the fact that he was bred from Elizabeth and Hosanna. Now that she knows, she can see the two horses in him: Elizabeth's beauty and Hosanna's build.
"Unfortunately he doesn't have the best temperament." Bellamy looks at him over his shoulder. Blaze is now kicking the door, throwing a tantrum. "Usually Hosanna and Elizabeth's colts are good natured, but he's the exception."
"Can't you ride him?"
"He's fine once you get on him. And you're his new best friend if you're leading him to a field with other horses. But try to get him to do something he doesn't want to, and he'll drag you halfway across the village – as I've found out."
The banging is getting annoying. Clarke ducks round Bellamy and strokes his neck. Bellamy makes an impatient noise, but she ignores him. Blaze is now pushing his nose on her shoulder. "See," she says, facing him. "He's a sweetheart."
"That's not a word that's been used to describe him before," he replies darkly, glaring at Blaze. The horse gives a little snort, showing his teeth to Bellamy.
"What did Justin want?" she asks. Instantly Bellamy face's transforms into a scowl. "Something about the council?"
"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair. "Justin wants us to put more guards on the walls. He thinks that the Northern tribe is going to attack us any day now."
"But you don't?"
"If they are, my spies are way off."
"Spies?"
He hitches an eyebrow up. "Didn't you learn anything about the past kings and queens? Knowledge is power, and you use spies to gain knowledge. I have a few placed in the Northern tribe, just as I expect Clovis and Niala have some in ours."
"Spies?" Her eyes shift behind him.
"I know everyone in this tribe. There are no spies for them here, unless you count the ones I have in my pocket. The Northern tribe is bigger though; it's harder to keep track of."
"They have more people?" There's an edge in Clarke's voice. If there are more of them, victory will surely be theirs if war happens.
Bellamy is getting even better at reading her expression; he steps towards her, touching her shoulder. "There are more," he confirms. "But that works against them, because there is a lot of division in their tribe. In fact my spies tell me that there's rumours that it'll split off into two fractions."
"Really?"
"Well, would you want Clovis as your king?" He smirks at her and she can't help but smile a bit, though the worry has taken root inside her. "Look, I don't think we're anywhere near being attacked right now. And if we are, then we're ready."
"We are?"
"Yes. We won't be easy prey for them. Everyone is being trained and we're clearing up our escape routes." He smiles at her again, gentler than before. "Trust me Clarke. If we're in danger, I'll get you out."
His words aren't spoken light-heartedly; there's deepness in his gravelly voice, and his eyes are right on her. She knows he means the words.
She hides her face into Blaze's neck. "Well then, you'd better teach me how to ride."
"I'd better," he agrees, the seriousness still in his voice.
She takes a moment to clear her face before turning back to him. "Y'know Justin hates your guts, right?"
He smirks, snorting down a laugh. "Don't worry, I know."
"Why?"
He turns away. "It's a long story."
"Then shorten it."
In another mood, another time, he might have snapped at her. But he simply quirks his eyebrows at her before reluctantly smiling. "Very well." He reaches over and pats Blaze too, but she notices that he keeps a wary eye on the stallion. He also positions himself close to her, as planning to pull her away if needed. "After the old king died-"
"What was his name?" Bellamy shoots her a glance but she says, "I need to know."
"Hans," he replies. "After he died, Justin's family were high up in the hierarchy. He was almost certainly the next king."
"But..."
"I became King." This time his smile is bitter, and the light from his eyes that usually sparks his face up is gone. "He had a better claim than I had – a lot better. But when it came down to it, the people wanted me." He gives a little shrug, like it doesn't matter. "So I became King, and my family shot up in status. Justin's never been able to let it go. By blood, he sees himself as the rightful king and I'm a usurper.
"It was a smack in the face for him, especially because there's always been some rivalry between us. When we were learning to spar, Justin and I were pitted against each other-" He pauses. "Y'know what I mean by spar?" Clarke nods. It's how they train for hand-to-hand combat; Bellamy once told her that during battle, it usually came down to one-on-one fights. Now that winter's ended, it's less dangerous for them to spar on the ground. She's seen Octavia fight, using her sword skills; Links with his strength; Jared with his speed. "Anyway, Justin was pretty good-"
"But you were better?"
This time when he smiles, he doesn't hide the smugness in it. "Yes. I was a decent fighter, and when me and Justin sparred – I made sure I beat him. He's never let it go, and since I became King he's gotten worse."
"Is he a threat to you?"
"Possibly." He says it almost thoughtfully, staring at Blaze.
"Well, shouldn't you be more worried?"
Her sharpness catches his attention; he glances sideways at her. "What? Are you worried about me, Princess?"
"Yes," she says, because she's tired of trying to deny it, not just to him but to herself. "Besides, your death could mean Octavia dies too. Wouldn't anyone who tried to hurt you go for her as well?" Yet even as she says these words, she remembers that the poison was only in her and Bellamy's glasses. Octavia had drunk from hers, but it hadn't been spiked.
Bellamy explains. "No. When a king dies, if he doesn't have any children, the line ends, regardless of the fact he could have nine brothers with dozens of offspring. The moment a king is crowned, his line becomes the only valid one. This was an attempt to stop a great nephew coming out of the woodwork, especially since we could never prove that someone was related to the royal line. Of course, they didn't count on siblings killing each other before the oldest was crowned, but..." He lifts his hands up, shrugging.
"You say kings. Can't women inherit the throne?"
"Yeah. But it doesn't usually happen."
"Why not?"
"They prefer male rulers. Usually the council try to rig it so a male gains the throne."
"Females can be great rulers!" she protests.
He holds up his hands. "Remember who you're talking to. I'm the one who's told you stories about Elizabeth I and Isabella of Spain. And I grew up with Octavia and Babaduo, not to mention having to put up with you." She feels a flicker of pleasure when he mentions her too, and briefly berates herself. "I'm used to strong women."
"So..." She shifts on her feet, wishing she could look at Blaze. But she thinks when she asks this, she needs to look at him. "How did you become king?"
"Like I said, long story." He turns away from her. "Let's find you a different horse, shall we?"
Leaving Blaze with a little pat on the neck, she chases after him. "I have another question."
"Of course you do."
"If it's only the king's line that can inherit – that means his children – then why did they try to poison me?"
There's a pause while he turns the question about in his head. "They probably thought it would be safer to poison yours too, in case I picked up the wrong one." He looks at her in such a way that she wants to hug him. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she says immediately.
"It is-"
"That person doesn't have to kill you. If someone else gets hurt, it's their fault. It will never be yours." She grabs hold of his arm to stop him from walking off. "Don't blame yourself Bellamy."
His face has tightened, so much so that she's not sure can reach him. "I'm King. Everything that happens is my fault."
One day she is coming back after stitching a wound in the med bay when she sees the fighting. There's a group of guards in the "ring", and when she gets closer she sees Jeremiah is fighting Lincoln. Bellamy says they often fight outsiders so they can gain different skills and learn different strategies. She settles next to Octavia, who gives her a friendly nudge but doesn't glance away from Lincoln. The warrior is making swift work of Jeremiah. Octavia's grinning. "He's beaten the last three guards," she murmurs.
She glances over at Solo, who is rubbing his shoulder. "Has he fought Bellamy yet? Or is that not allowed?"
"It's allowed. Bell's just been busy." When Lincoln pins Jeremiah against the ground, Octavia lets out a cheer that almost bursts Clarke's eardrums. She watches Lincoln shoot Octavia a smile, watches as the girl blooms under his gaze. Lincoln lets Jeremiah free, and the man gives him a nod of respect.
Beside the two of them, Links is getting ready to fight. But before he can take a step into the ring, Clarke beats him to it.
Lincoln raises his eyebrows. "You fight?" he asks in that calm voice, that voice he uses when he knows the answer.
"No." Links grabs her shoulder; she shakes him off. "Princess, I strongly advise against this. You have no experience in sparring-"
"How can I gain experience if I don't participate?" She looks between the guards before turning back to Lincoln. "I'm willing if you are."
He gives a humourless laugh. "Clarke, Bellamy would murder me. Forget marrying Octavia; I'd never see the next sunrise."
"I'll do it." Clarke turns, her muscles sagging a little when she sees Octavia step forward. "I'm the only one he won't kill if she's hurt."
She watches Lincoln give her a kiss as she walks into the ring. "You sure about this?" she murmurs lowly to Clarke.
"I'm sure." She's tired of being thought of as weak; as not being able to handle herself. It's time to change that.
Octavia nods, takes a breath, and pulls her arm back.
Ten minutes later she hears the door of the med bay. Even though her arms are crossed in a typical "tough" stance, Octavia's mouth squints. The makeshift curtain sweeps back and Bellamy's face – eyes flashing with fire, jaw clenched – appears.
"Bell-"
"Don't talk – either of you." The words sound like they are prised out of his mouth, like he's spitting out his own teeth. He takes in Clarke, head back with a bunch of tissues against her nose, stained in red, and lets out a frustrated growl. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was-"
"I told you not to talk."
"Then don't ask stupid questions," snaps Octavia.
He rounds on her. "I don't know which one of you is more foolish – no, more idiotic: you," he says, glancing at Clarke, "for picking a fight, or you for encouraging her."
"How about because she's right?" Bellamy's voice is fierce, but Octavia steps forward, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. "Maybe there won't be a war – gods hope not – but if there is, then she needs to be ready. You can't guarantee that she won't be caught by a warrior, even if you get her ready to run-"
"You want to discuss this now?"
"You're the one who started it. Admit it Bell: she needs to learn how to fight."
"And giving her a bloody nose is going to teach her that?"
"Enough!" Clarke's voice is muffled because of the tissue, but its loudness catches their attention. "This isn't helping anything."
She sees Octavia sink down a little. Bellamy, on the other hand, turns his gaze onto Clarke. "Has this taught you that you're not a warrior princess?"
"She's not that bad actually. She lasted three minutes against me."
"Three minutes," mutters Clarke.
"That's pretty good. I'm a decent fighter," she says, a glimmer of a smile on her face.
She sees Bellamy pinch the bridge of his nose. "Gods help me," he mutters.
Clarke sends Octavia a glance, and the girl murmurs something about seeing Lincoln. She ducks back through the curtain.
"Don't be mad," she says after Octavia's left.
He laughs, but it's bitter and almost like a cough. "'Don't be mad'? Are you serious? You're bleeding Clarke."
"She just knocked my nose-"
"Pretty bad knock, wouldn't you say?" He moves towards her, his fingers going underneath her chin. "Let me see."
She moves the tissues away. "It's stopped bleeding. And it's not broken. John's already checked it."
He twinges the tip of it, and she flinches. "Just a knock, right?" he asks, unsmiling. He turns away, and she has the feeling that she doesn't want her to see his face. "What were you thinking?"
"I need to know how to fight-"
When he looks to her his face is made of stone, and because she knows him (knows him so well that she can read his expression at a glance, knows when he's entering a room, knows how to soothe him when he's stressed) she keeps quiet. "We'll talk about this later. You need to rest-"
"I'm fine." She pushes herself off the bed only to see the world go hazy in front of her. It clears in a second, but she hesitates and her legs wobble. Bellamy's hands come on either side of her, holding her still. "Fine," she adds quickly.
He doesn't answer; instead he picks her up so quickly that she doesn't have a chance to react and carries her out the door.
"Bell-" Her head is spinning, and when she opens her eyes everything seems blurred at the edges. She lifts her hands against his chest, but when she attempts to sit up there's a burst of pain, like a firework ricocheting. She gives up, closing her eyes and letting herself lean against his body. Okay, maybe he has a point.
By the time they get back to the house, she's certain she feels better. He doesn't pause when they get into the living room, walking up the stairs and finally depositing her on the bed.
"This is ridiculous," she huffs. She attempts to sit up, but Bellamy's hand pushes her back down, sweeping the covers back before pulling them over her body. "Octavia barely touched me." That's not quite true, she knows because when she tries to sit up she feels a spasm of pain along her upper arms. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Sure you are." With one hand on her shoulder, he tucks the covers round her so she feels like she's being swaddled.
"I don't need to rest-"
"Uh-huh."
"I can get up-"
"Sure you can."
"Bellamy, stop agreeing with me!"
His mouth curves into a little smile. "I thought you wanted me to agree with you." He shifts off the bed and goes to the bookshelf. "Here. You can read this. It's called Gone With The Wind. It's about a thousand pages, so it should keep you busy."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to just sit here?"
She crosses her arms as Bellamy turns, preparing herself for another fight. She expects him to threaten her, to put her under house arrest. But he sighs and steps forward, sitting on the side on the bed. Facing her he says, "You do this for me, and I'll do something for you."
"Like?"
He lifts his shoulders. "What do you want?"
"To fight-"
"No. What else do you want?"
She leans back against the pillows, scowling. In truth, she's thinking. What does she want? Well, her freedom to go back home, but she knows Bellamy isn't offering that. She could ask to be allowed to help when people are sick but, again, she doesn't think that Bellamy will allow that; besides which, she's pretty sure she'll win that battle eventually – she too good a healer. So what else would she want? She shifts on the mattress when she notes that Bellamy has given her all that she could want: lovely clothes, hot water, three meals a day, even trips out –
She lifts her face. "I want Blaze to be my horse."
Bellamy closes his eyes. "Of course you do," he murmurs. He tilts his head up to the ceiling. "I swear, you have a death wish. Fine," he says, jerking it back down. "You'll stay here for the rest of the day, and I'll let you learn to ride on Blaze – but one sign of his bad temper and you'll have to pick another horse."
She nods, leaning back against the pillows. "He'll be on his best behaviour," she promises. "Now, you had a book for me?"
He stares at her before handing her the large book. "I'll pick my battles," he says, more to himself. And before Clarke can register it, he leans forward and kisses her on the forehead. He leaves in under three seconds, whether by fate or embarrassment. She's left lying in bed, the book in her hand, staring after him.
Despite Bellamy's dark predictions, Blaze is a dream to ride. He's right about one thing though: riding is a lot harder than it appears. Her body aches the next day, and she's almost tempted to stay in bed if it weren't for the fact it would please Bellamy. Finally one morning Bellamy offers to take her out from the village, to practice her shooting. He allows her to ride Blaze by herself, and that's when she knows she's good enough.
She slips off Blaze, who goes off with Hosanna, the two of them heading towards a clearing. Blaze goes forward, bucking in pure joy. She watches the two of them break into a gallop, racing each other.
She turns her attention to the trees, wondering whether to ask about aiming for live animals this time. "Are we shooting before we look for the herbs?"
"I had another suggestion." She turns, seeing Bellamy studying her. She's close enough to see his eyes flickering, like he's having an argument with himself. He sighs. "Are you serious about learning how to fight?"
Her heart leaps, but she forces herself to keep her face smooth. She nods.
He heaves a sigh, closing the distance between them in a single breath. "Okay," he says. He's so close to her she can almost feel his pulse. Her mind flashes to the nights in the shared bed, when she could turn and would find herself leaning against him; to that kiss on her forehead, how it lingered against her head like a birthmark. "Then I'll teach you."
"You will?" Her voice comes out in a squeak, and she clears her throat.
He nods, eyes sombre. "I'm not kidding around though: you have to do exactly what I tell you. And I'm not going to go easy on you either. It'll hurt."
"I need to learn. Someone tried to poison us, and whether it was the Northern tribe or someone else, they could try again. If they do, I want to be ready."
She sees a flicker of something in his eyes – pride, maybe a bit of respect. "Okay." He backs off and circles her. "Take off your jacket," he says, shedding his own. "Don't make it easier for them to grab hold of you." When she does he pauses, facing in front of her. "Show me what you've got."
Clarke almost thinks it's a trick, but he doesn't move – doesn't even lift his hands in defence. She puts herself in a fighting stance like she's seen Octavia do, and aims a punch at him.
She is on her back in two seconds. The air rushes out of her lungs and she wheezes, but the sight of his foot over her neck makes her freeze. He raises her eyebrows at her. "I could squash the air out of you in a minute; I'd probably break all the bones in your throat."
"Actually, I think you mean the oesophagus." She takes a deep breath, the air seeming to finally get back in her body. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?"
"No. It's supposed to make you take this seriously. You could be killed in an instant." He lifts his foot off, dropping a hand down to help her up. "We'll start from the beginning."
The first thing he teaches her is defensive moves. The hip throw is the first one. He explains that when someone punches you, you should grab them with the opposite arm and whirl into their body, your back against their chest; keeping hold of the arm, you bend your legs and lift the person up, dropping them to the floor. Once on the ground you stamp on their face, and then put it on their neck to keep them down.
It takes time. The problem is when she has to throw him, he's too heavy. "I'm not," he corrects. "The hip throw isn't about strength; it's about skill." He pauses, her back pressed against him as she struggles. "You're more likely to pull a muscle in my arm than throw me over," he comments.
"Well," she breathes, chest pounding. "That's one way to hurt my opponent."
"Not the right way. Pulling a muscle is nowhere near the same as putting your opponent down." She feels his hand on her back, at the side of her spine. It makes her want to shiver. "You're bending with your back. You need to bend with your legs."
After she masters this, they move onto other moves, mostly defensive. He doesn't train her at the village, only taking her out to practice in the forest. When she asks him about this he says, "If no one knows you can fight, they will underestimate you. And the element of surprise is always the best advantage when fighting."
Towards the end of the training session, she and Bellamy spar. He's getting her to practice the new moves he taught her, but in reality it ends up being a slaughter. Bellamy always wins, and what's worse, he enjoys himself. "One day you'll get the hang of it," he says when he's pinned her for the fifth time. She grits her teeth and tries to throw him off with little success.
The sun is going down, and Bellamy agrees to one last spar before they head back. As usual he dominates, avoiding Clarke's attacks like a well-choreographed dance. She swings her arm round but he dodges, catches her foot with his and tips her backwards; she tries to balance herself by moving her other foot back, but she's unsteady and he shoves her on the floor. He smirks down at her. It's hot, and they're sweating; she can see it glistening across his forehead. "I think we're done," he says.
She can't catch her breath. "Yeah, I think so."
"Let's go back," he says. He's turned away to whistle for the horses, so he doesn't see Clarke wince. He hears her gasp though, and jerks his head when he sees her stumble. "Clarke?"
"I'm okay, it's just-" She tries to stand, but grabs her side with another gasp. Her knees give way, and she lands on the ground.
He is by her side in a moment. "What hurts? Clarke?"
With all her energy, she elbows him. She was going for the throat, but she thinks she might have actually got his face; still, she'll take it, and she doesn't hesitate in leaping on top of him, pinning him to the ground.
He's in shock; he doesn't react until she's on top, and the only thing he can do is blink. He's bleeding from the lip, and the healer in Clarke wants to mop it up; but instead she's fighting a grin, and not very successfully. "You know, you really should never let your guard down," she says, repeating his first rule, the one he's drummed into her.
It clicks, and despite the fact she's beaten him, he grins. "And do you remember the second rule?"
"In battle, things can turn in a second." She remembers that, even when you've pinned you opponent, they can still pull you backwards with their legs. She makes sure she's leaning too far forward, putting all her weight down on his shoulders and wrists. "I think that means I win."
"Alright alright, it's still about a hundred to one."
"More like twenty to one." She bends down closer, her mouth positioned above his face. "You're going to have to get used to being in this position."
She feels him tense underneath her, and it takes a second for her to understand: her body is pressed against him, her head – her lips – right above his. Just like when she was cleaning his face, people in this position are normally doing different things. She instantly wishes she had said something else to him.
The sunlight is fading, the flowers are blooming on the ground. She thinks back, months before she even arrived in the village, when she dreamed of making love in a forest – with no fear, where no one would walk in on her, where she wouldn't constantly be on the alert. Her mind goes there now, plays the dream in her head, but instead of picturing Finn underneath her – his face now blurred, and she finds she's unable to remember how broad he was – she sees Bellamy. She wants to feel the beads of sweat on his chest; imagines his hands on her hips, her back arching as he leans forward -
She leaps to her feet before Bellamy sees her face.
"'Cause I'm on fire like a thousand suns
I couldn't put it out even if I wanted to;
These flames tonight
Look into my eyes and say you want me, too
Like I want you..."
Ross Copperman, Hunger
* This line was inspired by Damon and Elena from The Vampire Diaries. I love this couple (if you go far enough on my profile, you'll find it used to be all about Damon and Elena) and am already missing them after the season 6 finale. I find that Bellamy and Clarke share some similarities between Damon and Elena.
A/N: As usual:
1) I had such a laugh writing Clovis, I hope you had one too. Any other bits made you giggle?
2) So we saw a lot of arguments between Bellamy and Clarke in this chapter, and a lot of development in their relationship. What did you think of their interactions so far? Which bit was your favourite?
3) So, again the quotes (yes I know, I know, but I love quotes). Firstly I love Neil Gaiman, though I've only read one of his books (Stardust) and I thought the quote really suited the situation Bellamy and Clarke were in. And ever since the last Damon and Elena scene, I have been in love with the song Hunger. I think it really fits Bellamy and Clarke too, especially at the end of this chapter. What do you guys think?
4) I'm enjoying the fact that Clarke's getting stronger; I think this chapter is definitely a turning point for her character. Are you guys pleased?
5) So again, I will try to update in a week's time. But just so you guys know, the next chapter will be the last one, and the story will be complete. I'm kinda gutted because I've loved writing this story; but along with short chapters, I also dislike stories that go on and on when they could easily come to a natural ending. I hope you guys are okay with that. If it makes you feel better, the next chapter has A LOT happening.
So once again, thank you so much for the reviews! Please keep letting me know what you think of this story – since it's my 100th story, it means a whole lot to me, and I really would like your input. Thanks again!
Hours to make. Seconds to comment.
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