Chapter Nine
Author's Note: There are no excuses good enough for why I haven't updated… In like, 2 months… Yeah, none are good enough for you guys, who are absolutely awesome. While me, as the writer of this story you're all waiting for an update from, has been awful lately at her job. Sorry… I let you down and it might happen again, but I REALLY hope not. I just hope that you will all continue reading this story and following it until it reaches it's end, which I don't think is soon because I still have a lot to explain, and I'm not even to the best Bellarke parts! 3 ANYWAY, thanks for bearing with me, even if I am a sucky writer!
Clarke slowly opened her eyes, blinking deeply a few times. She sat up slowly, bringing her hand to her throbbing temple. She looked around, trying to remember where she was. She took in the silk sheets and large, four-poster bed she was on. Also the fireplace and the large windows, plus the balcony on the other side of the room. The one thing that threw her was the art supplies in the corner of the room.
Art supplies. In the corner.
Clarke sat up all the way in her bed, ignoring the pain in her head. She was in her room, in Ark. Everything came rushing back to her; the meeting with her mother, the weird dizziness, the broken promise. She jumped off her bed, rushing to the door. She tried to open the door, pulling on the handle. It didn't budge. She tried again, pulling harder and banging on the door.
"Is anyone there?!" Clarke shouted. With one hand she was trying to open the door, with the other she was using either a fist or a flat hand to pound on the door. "Open the door!"
After a few moments of yelling and banging on the door, she gave up, sliding down the door, tears in her eyes. Her sadness began to boil into anger as she realization dawned on her.
Her mother.
She must've drugged her, had guards drag her to her room and lock her in; all to keep her here. Bellamy realized it before she did, and he tried to get her out…
Bellamy! Clarke thought. Her mother better not have gone back on their deal, because she told them they'd be able to bring supplies back with them- or, now him. They needed those supplies to get their people back. But she knew her mother never said anything about both of them leaving, and she should've known her mother would never let her leave again.
She got up from the floor, going over to her window and leaning slightly against the wall. It was almost dusk. Clarke hoped Bellamy took the supplies and left, despite their broken promise. Well, she tried to keep her promise, but it was her mother's fault, so he couldn't hold that against her. If he was even half as smart as she knew he was, he'd take the supplies and go, get Octavia, Jocelyn and Carter back from the Grounders, and go on without her. She just hoped that he wouldn't try and do anything stupid.
The door began to open and Clarke whipped her head towards the person who walked in.
"You have a lot of nerve walking in here right now." Clarke spat out.
"Clarke-" Her mother sighed.
"What the hell?! You-"
"Clarke, that is not the way a Princess should speak." Abby interrupted.
"I couldn't give a damn about how a Princess should speak. How about the way a Queen should act? Huh?" Clarke raised her voice.
"Well how do you think one should act?" Abby crossed her arms across her chest, annoyed.
"For starters, they don't drug and kidnap their own daughters!" Clarke knew she should tell her mother she knew about the fire, but wanted her to really feel it when she said it. Let the hurt sink in and have her realize just how low her own mother had sunk in her mind.
"Clarke, I did what I had to do-"
"Just like when you burned that castle to the ground?" Clarke shouted, she couldn't take it.
Abby recoiled, face shocked. "How- Did…? How did you know about that?"
"I didn't." Clarke shook her head. "At least not for sure. Now I know. It's true. That fire that nearly burnt that entire castle to the ground? The one I was at?"
"You weren't supposed to be anywhere near that fire!" Abby tried to explain. "You were supposed to be here with Wells!"
"And look where that got us!" Clarke shouted. She was even more upset her mother brought him up, because, after all, she had no right. Just like with Jake. She was glad when her mother's face cringed in pain from her words.
"Why am I here?" Clarke whispered.
"Because you needed to discuss-"
"No," Clarke raised her voice, getting angrier. "Why am I still here?"
"I-" Her mother faltered, confused. Her voice turned genuine as she tried to walk towards her. "I wanted you back here, with me. You're my daughter."
"I don't even know what that means anymore." Clarke remarked icily, walking away from the window.
Abby slightly stumbled back, excusing herself without another word. Once the door closed behind her, Clarke let out an exasperated sigh.
She began pacing the room because she couldn't stand still. There was so much she had to handle when it came to her mother. First, her father's death that she had blamed her best friend- and fiancé?- for for years. Then it turned out that it wasn't his fault, and he only let her believe that it was him so she wouldn't hate her own mother. That made her love him again, maybe not in the way he wanted, but there was time.
But there wasn't, actually, because it had been too late. He had followed her to the ball at the castle, only to protect her. But when the fire started, she lost him. She figured he either died in the fire or he got out before. But when she found him on their way back to Ark, an arrow hit him in the back, killing him before her eyes. The guards formed an even tighter circle around her and raced her towards Ark, her best friend's body left behind. They went back for him, but only to bring him to his father.
Once she learned the truth, she thought she couldn't be more mad at her mother, but then she went and drugged her and kidnapped her, making her break a promise she intended to keep. Clarke didn't even want to be in the same room as her mother, much less look at her and talk to her.
She knew she was angry, but deep down, she was more hurt than anything. She used to look up to her mother, because she always seemed good and made good decisions. Now Clarke knew that was a complete joke. But that didn't make it better, or make the pain lessen.
Clarke's feet began to hurt from the pacing, and she looked out the window as she took off her shoes. The sun was almost buried beneath the horizon. She had been pacing for a while, thinking about everything… and nothing.
She slowly walked around her room, barefoot. She paused in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. She could barely recognize herself, and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Her normally well-kept blonde hair was now a dirty mess, with dirt clumped in some places. Her face had a few scratches on it- from what, she had no idea- and dirt smudges as well. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from crying, and she could see a few tear streaks amidst the dirt.
She gave herself another once over in the mirror and decided she needed a good bath. Once she was in the bath, she sat there, thinking deeply about everything. The fire, the Grounders, Wells, her father, the crown, Bellamy, the Rebels, Raven, Octavia, Jocelyn, Carter, her mother, everything.
She felt her head spinning after a while of thinking, and getting no where in all her current crisis. So she took a deep breath and sunk her head under the water, staying down until she felt her lungs burn. She emerged from the water with a large intake of breath. After, she shook her head and got out, wrapping herself in a soft towel, and walked towards her large wardrobe.
It still felt weird to be back in her room even after only a day or so with the Rebels, but it felt like it had been so much longer. She already felt like that was another lifetime.
She shook that thought from her mind, scanning her dresses and night clothes. She picked one of her white long-sleeved nightgowns of silk, and put it on. She walked towards her window again, looking at the almost fully risen moon. It was only a crescent, but it still shone on the kingdom she knew well, especially the view from her window.
Clarke thought back to the night that she snuck out of the kingdom, met Bellamy, and watched her best friend die. But, since that entire day was a wreck, she focused on the only good part of that day.
Clarke watched from the edge of the room, surveying the mass of people, spinning and smiling while dancing to the music. Everything seemed so happy, cheerful and… normal.
And Clarke was feeling anything but normal. She just felt out of place.
It didn't make it better when some guy around her age- maybe older- walked up to her, and without asking just took her hand in his. She tried to yank it away, looking at his confident face.
"What? I'm going to grant your wish." He grinned wickedly.
"My wish is that you leave me alone!" Clarke jerked back, repulsed by him. Although, here, they don't know she was royalty, so this boy coming up to her could be normal. Except that it's just bad manners, and gives the opposite result he seems to want in the situation.
"Every beautiful girl's wish is to dance with me, so how about that dance?" He reached for her again, but she jumped farther back towards the wall.
"I said, I wish you would leave me alone! Do not make me ask again!" Clarke raised her voice.
"Come on, don't deny that you want to dance with me. I promise, once you start dancing with me, you won't want to stop. It will be worth-"
"Can't you see the girl doesn't want to dance with you?" A different and deeper voice interrupted him, and they both turned to face the stranger.
He was tall, muscular, dark haired, and his face was lightly dusted with freckles. He had deep, dark brown eyes. His mouth was a line, but if she looked hard enough, Clarke could see the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.
The two boys had a moment where they just stared at each other, having a silent fight, neither wanting to back down. Clarke rolled her eyes, and sighed.
"Alright, just leave now before you really regret ever talking to me." She warned.
The boys stayed in their stare-down, and then the first boy squirmed under the older boy's gaze. He looked back and forth between the older boy and Clarke, then snorted.
"She's not worth my time." He began to walk away, but not before turning back slightly and adding: "Not even that pretty."
"I didn't need help." Clarke said to the older boy, after the first was gone.
"Your welcome, Princess." He gave her a smug half-smirk.
"What did you call me?!" She whirled on him.
"Do you not like being called "Princess," do you, Princess?" His half-smirk turned into a full, smug grin.
"What the hell makes you think you can call me that?" Clarke fumed, but deep down she was worried that he might have known.
"Because you act like one." He replied.
"And how does one act?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Spoiled. Arrogant. Demanding. The usual royalty stuff."
"I am none of those things! Especially not demanding." She denied, rolling her eyes.
"Well, your clothes may have given you away before your personality could have a chance to show itself."
"Wow. And I thought maybe you weren't an ass. I was wrong. And what about my clothing gave me away? I'm beginning to think you are making all this up."
"Well, it is a very nice dress that seems to be especially well done. Plus, the fabric doesn't seem like something a mere commoner would have access to. Either you or someone you know is a miraculous seamstress, or you're royalty. Or at least related to a rich family."
Clarke looked down at her dress, cursing him for being right. She didn't even think that her choice of dress could give her identity away, or attract the wrong people, like before. She had chosen one of her more simpler dresses, but that was the style she liked. The top of the dress was a gold color with brown accents dotting the front. It had thick straps that hung onto her shoulders. The skirt was her favorite part; it was a simple light green, but when she moved slightly it would sparkle faintly in certain lighting. Mainly the skirt fabric would be the giveaway.
"Well, given your reaction to my accusations I'm going to assume that, since I'm right, you don't want anyone to know." Defeated, Clarke nodded. "Is that why you're watching from over here, instead of out dancing like most women are?"
"I guess it's not really my thing." Clarke replied, thinking of the many balls and dances she had to attended with her family. They both turned to survey the room, similar to how she had been doing earlier.
"It's not mine either."
"Then why are you here?" She looked at him sideways.
"Some people have more than just themselves to take care of, Princess. And I could ask you the same thing." He quipped.
"You could ask me, but I wouldn't answer. And I have a name. And, much to your shock, it is not Princess." He faked being shocked, causing her to roll her eyes and grin. "It's Clarke."
He paused, pretending to be deep in thought. "Clarke is a nice name, but I think "Princess" suits you more."
"Whatever." Clarke shook her head. "And your name is?"
"Bellamy."
Clarke was jolted from her reminiscing by a loud crack outside her window. She got up and rushed to the balcony, stepping out onto it. Holding onto the carved railing, she looked around for the cause of the sound. When she saw nothing, she shook her head, thinking she was hearing things, and went back inside her room (or prison). After she sat down on her couch in front of the fireplace, questioning whether or not to light it, she heard the noise again, only louder. She knew she couldn't be hearing things, so she got up and rushed to the balcony once more, only to run right into a strong chest.
"Oh my god," Clarke shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she knew it was him. She pushed him lightly, taking notice of where the railing was so she didn't 'accidentally' kill him. "Damn you, Bellamy! You scared the hell out of me!"
"You have a very weird way of saying "thank you," Princess." Bellamy half-smirked.
"What are you doing here?" Clarke ushered him into her room, still cautious of her current state of lockdown. "How are you here?"
"Well, I took the supplies after your mother threatened me to leave or pay the consequences. But Raven, Miller and I took them to the edges of the kingdom and then we waited until it was dark, and I snuck up here. Maybe not snuck, because it wasn't that quiet."
"That's true, which makes me wonder how the hell you made it all the way up the wall of the castle. Even without being sneaky, that's hard to do. Scaling a wall is not easy." Clarke tried to understand how the guards had not seen nor heard Bellamy trying to get to her, because they heard her trying to sneak out all the time, and they would be there in an instant. And she assumed her mother cranked up security, due to her recent 'betrayal.'
"Well, the vines were helpful enough for a while, then once they thinned out, it became harder because it was just luck. Or my pure talent. Either one." He teased.
"It was dumb luck. But I'm glad you had it! So why are you here? Not that I don't want you here, but my mother has locked me in here, with constant surveillance." She lowered her voice, worried they might hear her talking with him and take him away, and kill him this time.
"I know, that's why I'm here. To get you the hell out of here and bring you back home." He smiled a warm, genuine smile.
She smiled right back, returning the warmth. She loved how they both just knew it was her home as well. They walked back out onto the balcony, the air had gotten cooler. She wanted to go back, more than anything, and definitely more than she wanted to stay here under her mother's surveillance. But that thought at the back of her mind kept bugging her.
"Hang on-" She sighed.
"You really are making it hard to rescue you." Bellamy shook his head.
"Shut up." She hissed. "I just don't get it. How did you ever get past the guards?"
"I didn't see any. It was weird, we were expecting more than that. Especially after the fuss your mother made about 'staying away.'"
"Wait. What was that? What did she say exactly to you after she basically kidnapped me?" Clarke whirled to face him, eyes narrowing and beginning to form ideas.
"She told me I could leave, with all the supplies and have my second chance they promised. I could go and fight… or die- she made that part very clear- for our people. But I couldn't do any of that with you. I had to stay away." Bellamy shifted slightly, and he lowered his eyes, then brought them back to her, searching her face.
She turned, spirit dropping to the floor and shattering. Her face crumpled in, her brows lowering to her eyes that grew pained with understanding. She whispered, "They let you in."
"What?"
"They let you in, Bellamy." She turned back to him, her eyes no longer lit with hope. "They. Let. You. In! That's how you made it up here without getting shot or killed! My mother is testing you! And me…" She tried to think of what exactly this was all about to her mother. Then it hit her.
"Bellamy," She started softly, gazing into his deep brown eyes. "I can't go back with you."
"Why not?" He asked, trying to play it tough but she could see through to the pain he masked behind his eyes.
"If you try to get me out of here- willing or not- my mother will kill you faster than we can hit the ground. And I'll be back where I started, and you'll never rescue your sister."
"Clarke…" Bellamy looked at her. He looked so young when his eyes met hers, so broken, a mirror of herself.
"You said you'd do whatever you could to save your sister." She echoed her earlier words. "Now there's no choice. They need you back there… I need you back there to take care of them."
"And I need you to be there to take care of them with me. I can't just let you stay here…"
"You have to." She smiled sadly. "Now you have to go, I can't lose you too, okay?"
He nodded and turned back to the railing where he first appeared, ready to climb back down.
"Bellamy…" She called after him before he climbed back down. He turned back to her as she walked over to him. She kissed him on the cheek, tasting the salt of tears, and pulled him into a hug. He didn't hesitate to return her embrace, caressing the back of her head. "May we meet again."
Then she pulled back, and walked backwards towards her room, fearing if she didn't, she'd change her mind.
Bellamy threw one leg over the railing reluctantly, and looked at Clarke with a longing look in his eyes. Before he disappeared off her balcony, he whispered back to her.
"May we meet again."
