For Clarke, it was a relief to talk to Raven. To unburden herself to another woman, someone who wasn't her mother or her thirteen-year-old daughter. And in the end, when she finally understood all the circumstances, Raven turned out to be surprisingly sympathetic.
"I know I shouldn't have climbed all over you like that, Clarke," she sighed. "Made... assumptions. I guess maybe at least part of it was the guilt."
"What have you got to feel guilty about? You didn't have anything to do with this."
Raven shrugged. "No, but when I realized you were still alive I damn well knew I should warn Echo about you and Bellamy as soon as I had the chance."
"Raven..."
"No, I believe you, Clarke. That Bellamy explained it to her and she... okayed it. But she couldn't have known what it would feel like for him - for both of you - to be together like that. When we first got to the Ring, Echo didn't know him well enough to understand how much he suffered when we thought you were dead. She didn't get what was between you. But I did. I knew."
Clarke gaped at her, but Raven gave her a crooked little smile.
"Come on, Clarke! We all knew how you felt about each other. Monty, Harper... even that cockroach Murphy."
"But we didn't... we weren't..."
"Maybe you didn't, but we could all see the feelings. And... I owed it to Echo to let her know so she could be prepared."
"Prepared?"
"For the inevitable."
"Raven, I don't think..."
"Well, I do. And I should have said something."
She shrugged and gave Clarke a quirky smile.
"But see, I was kinda distracted with my own thing..."
Clarke grinned, more than happy to switch their focus to Raven's romance.
"So I noticed. That's... going okay?"
"Yeah. No worries there." Raven narrowed her eyes. "And no changing the subject. So... what are you going to do about Bellamy?"
Clarke shrugged. "What can I do? We're having this baby together, this kid that's going to save everyone, although I have no idea how. But other than that, Bellamy doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me. Maybe," she took a deep breath, trying for a nonchalance she certainly didn't feel, "he and Echo will get back together."
Raven eyed her carefully. "And would you be okay with that?"
Clarke shook her head slowly. "No," she whispered, admitting it aloud for the first time. "But I can't figure out how to make things better between us."
Raven shrugged. "Whatever the hell is bugging him, at least this time you haven't left each other to die. If you can forgive each other for that, anything else should be a piece of cake."
Clarke snorted. "There is that," she said.
XXXXXXXXXX
When the dress arrived, Clarke couldn't help being reminded of Polis. Of Lexa. She'd been given a special dress that day, too. One that had been so tight, and so restrictive, that in the end she'd had to be sewn into it.
Her choices had felt restrictive then, too. Accept the title of Wanheda, bow to the Commander, and maybe save her people... or risk the safety of almost everyone she loved.
That dress had been made for the Commander of Death.
As soon as she took it out of the box, Clarke could see that this dress was something altogether different.
It had been cut quite simply, because that was the style in this city. There was a halter top to tie around her neck, and the rest was just a length of iridescent white fabric that fell to her knees. She couldn't help the little frisson of excitement that filled her as she stroked the material. When had she ever had the chance to wear something this lovely?
Clarke had a small moment of fear that the dress would somehow fail to accommodate her ample breasts, but when she peeled off her clothes and slipped it over her head, she found that wasn't the case at all. Instead, the dress, which had looked so simple in her hands, had been so artfully made that it draped enticingly over her breasts, and then clung to her every curve before falling gracefully around her.
"Oh, Clarke, you look so beautiful! Where did that come from?"
She hadn't even heard Madi come in until she was suddenly hovering in the doorway.
"Look for yourself. There's a card in the box."
"It's from Oriana!"
Clarke heard the surprise in Madi's voice, but it was no greater than her own. It had been sent by the Eligian leader with a card that said I think you should have something special to wear tonight.
"And did you see? There are shoes, too!"
Clarke hadn't seen, and when she slipped them on her feet she tried to recall the last time she'd worn anything but boots.
Madi tugged at her arm, dragging her over to the tiny mirror they kept on the wall. Insisting that Clarke should at least have one small glimpse of herself in her new finery.
"I wonder what Bellamy will think when he sees you in that," she said, her voice filled with admiration.
Clarke felt her face flush, mostly because she'd been wondering the same thing herself.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bellamy had offered to come by for them on his way to the gala, but as much as she might fancy the picture in her head of them walking in together arm in arm, Clarke knew it would have been a lie. They may have been about to become parents, but that hadn't brought them together. If anything, it felt like it was tearing them apart.
She'd told him she and Madi could get there on their own.
Clarke had almost thought she'd seen a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but if so, the new controlled Bellamy had shut it down immediately.
He'd nodded. "Whatever you like."
So when she entered the Great Hall, instead of being on her arm, Bellamy was waiting along with everyone else for the mother-to-be-of-the-prophecy-child, otherwise known as the Star Attraction.
As she paused in the doorway, she couldn't help thinking about the irony of it all. Since they'd landed on this planet, both she and Bellamy had tried so hard to stay behind the scenes, supporting and advising Madi as the anointed Commander. They'd even sent Kane to the Eligians as their liaison as soon as he'd recovered his health.
But like so many times before, the fates had had other plans. Because here she was, right back in the spotlight.
Clarke sighed as she stepped into the room, which was larger and more elegantly appointed than any she'd seen so far in the city. Long tables had been set up on the far wall, and they seemed to be piled high with every tasty treat the city had to offer. When she saw the size of the crowd already gathered, Clarke wasn't quite sure whether to be flattered or fearful.
She took a deep breath, surreptitiously glancing around, trying - and failing - to stop herself from searching for Bellamy. A moment later she spotted him just a few feet away, and when their eyes met and held, Clarke stopped thinking about irony, or fate, or room decor, or pretty much anything else.
Bellamy was staring at her like he'd never seen her before. Like she was the eighth wonder of the world. It was a look so filled with admiration, and affection, and... and desire that Clarke suddenly forgot everything she ever knew and everything she'd ever learned. Including how to breathe.
As they gazed at one another, the sounds of the gathering seemed to die away, the room to empty around them.
She couldn't have torn her eyes from him if she'd tried.
And then, just like that - just like she'd fucking imagined it - he took a breath, blinked, and was greeting her with his usual aplomb, "Hello, Clarke. You look really... nice tonight."
Nice? She looked nice? That look had said NICE?
Clarke just barely stopped herself from gritting her teeth. "You, too, Bellamy," she said, working to keep her voice as neutral as possible.
And he did. Someone had given him a long-sleeved shirt of some fine white material that was made to slip over his head. With his hair tumbling forward and his dark handsome features, he reminded Clarke of a long-ago pirate on one of those old Ark vids.
"Ah, you're here at last," Oriana said, coming up suddenly on Clarke's right side. "So many people want to meet the two of you that I think it would be best if you split up and, uh, circulated a bit. You don't mind."
Mind? Of course Clarke didn't mind. She was wearing this beautiful dress, and she'd spent the entire time she was dressing imagining Bellamy unable to take his eyes off her while they talked. And now it appeared she was going to be speaking to everyone except Bellamy.
Why would she ever mind?
She sighed in resignation, and only seconds later Bellamy was already halfway across the room while she herself was being introduced to the first smiling excited believer.
And it never stopped. Her own people - Madi, Abby, Kane, Raven, and the rest - she was only allowed to greet in passing. As soon as it seemed like she might get to spend some time with any of them, some interfering busybody, usually Oriana, was there to whisk her away to meet yet another new face.
Of Bellamy, she saw nothing at all.
After several hours - Clarke was absolutely certain of that even though there wasn't a single timepiece in the room - she would swear she'd met every Eligian there at least three times. She was leaning against the wall at one end of the room, tired and cranky and working on an exit strategy, when a hand suddenly grabbed at her arm.
Her fatigue fell away when she looked up and saw it was Bellamy.
"This is crazy," he said quickly. "I haven't had a chance to talk to you all night and... I really wanted to."
After a month, he suddenly wanted to talk?
"After a month, you suddenly want to talk?"
Bellamy shrugged and his lips twisted in a lopsided smile.
"Yeah, I'm... sorry, Clarke. I know I've been kind of an asshole lately..."
"Kind of an asshole?" Suddenly, she just couldn't hold it in. "As far as I'm concerned, you've been a grade A, number one asshole..."
"Now, now," a male voice interrupted, "you don't want to be airing your dirty laundry in public."
They both pivoted quickly to find Gabriel behind them, wearing his usual unpleasant smirk.
"This is a private conversation," Bellamy said, his voice tight.
"Well, then," Gabriel leaned in close, his words a quiet clipped staccato, "I suggest you lower your voices before this crowd of faithful believers finds out that the Mommy and Daddy of the chosen child despise each other."
Then he was gone quickly before either of them could respond.
Clarke just gaped at the man's colossal nerve, while Bellamy let out an angry hiss.
She put a calming hand on his arm.
"That guy's a complete jackass, Bellamy. Don't let him get to you. I can't figure out how he even got elected to the Triumvirate. Most of these people seem like they'd have too much sense."
He gave her a short nod, but the telltale tic in his jaw told her he was still annoyed. But Clarke wasn't letting anything, including Gabriel's unwelcome interruption, derail this conversation.
"So. You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah, I've been... thinking maybe we should. Look, I've got some security stuff to take care of tomorrow, but what about the day after? We could maybe, uh, go for another picnic if it's a nice day."
Clarke's pulse leaped as soon as she heard the word picnic.
Or maybe you could just come home with me right now. Pretty sure Mom would be happy to take Madi for the night.
She didn't say it, of course, instead agreeing to his plan quickly before they could be interrupted again.
Clarke was so relieved that Bellamy had finally decided to communicate with her that when David came by a moment later with yet another group of his uber devout flock, she was able to dredge up her thousandth smile of the night with very little trouble. She nodded to Bellamy that she had this one, that he could make himself agreeable elsewhere, and he left her with a smile and a wave.
But it wasn't long before she began to regret her affability, discomfort creeping up her spine when David rapturously declared to the group that Clarke's impending motherhood would "change the world." And she once again recalled just how much the religious fervor of this particular member of the Triumvirate reminded her of Titus kom Trikru.
It was a comparison that filled her with dread.
So much so that when someone tapped her on the shoulder a moment later, she turned eagerly, ready for any diversion. Even, as it turned out, if that diversion was a return appearance by the loathsome Gabriel.
"Sorry to interrupt, Clarke, but may I speak with you for a minute?" he asked quietly.
Clarke considered, trying to decide if she'd prefer to put up with the zealot or the jackass. The jackass won out.
"Excuse me, David," she said politely. "Gabriel needs to talk to me."
As they moved away from the others, Gabriel muttered in her ear, "I see you've already managed to charm David's little circle of admirers."
Clarke halted, sighing wearily. This man really tried her patience.
"Was there something you wanted to say, Gabriel? Because I'm about ready to go home."
His handsome face appeared suddenly contrite. "Of course. I just wanted to apologize for butting in on your conversation with Bellamy earlier. You're both doing us a great service and it's none of my business if you don't get along."
Clarke frowned. His apology almost sounded... sincere, even if his conclusions were utterly off-base. But she saw no point in correcting them; let him think what he liked. She also recognized the wisdom of not starting a feud with one of the city's leaders. Not when so much depended on their goodwill.
Even if he was an idiot.
She forced herself to smile. "Apology accepted. Now I think I'm ready to leave, so if you'll excuse me..."
"I wonder," he asked, as though suddenly inspired, "if anyone has thought to show you the prophecy."
Clarke was surprised.
"Show it to me? There's something to look at?"
His smile became conspiratorial.
"Indeed. But it's too important to leave out on display, so we keep it securely locked up. Not everyone is allowed a look, of course, but I think, under the circumstances, you certainly have that right."
Clarke was intrigued. "So where is this thing?"
"Right in this building. Would you like to take a peek?"
Clarke shrugged. She was tired, but if it was right in the building, how much could it delay her? And maybe if she saw it, maybe if she saw the damn prophecy actually written down somewhere, the whole thing would become more real to her.
"Sure, why not?"
"Great," he nodded pleasantly. "This way."
They left the Great Hall by a door tucked away in a back corner, and Clarke soon found herself in a corridor along which were small rooms that looked like offices. Was the prophecy thing locked up in an office safe somewhere?
But they didn't stop, continuing on until they reached a staircase.
"Just a couple of flights down," he said. "Easier to maintain a controlled temperature in the basement."
She hoped it was only a couple of flights, because Clarke was used to wearing comfortable boots and her feet were definitely getting tired in the new shoes. But sure enough, after two flights of stairs, they turned down another hallway until Gabriel finally stopped in front of what looked to Clarke like a heavy metal door.
"At last," he said, turning to smile at her as he opened the door and stepped aside. "Please, after you."
Clarke stepped through the doorway and was confused to suddenly find herself in utter darkness. Not the darkness of an unlit room, she quickly realized as she felt a cool breeze across her face, but the blackness of a completely moonless night.
She started to turn, to ask Gabriel if he'd maybe opened the wrong door, but before she could say even a single word, Clarke felt a small pinprick on the back her neck.
And immediately the darkness was also inside her head.
