Chapter 10

For the first time since her journey began, Clarke couldn't see the crisp autumn sunset. Dark, murky clouds swirled overhead, threatening to release their contents on to the earth. Clarke wondered if God was taunting her, reflecting the emotions of her heart in the heavens. The city sprawled beneath them, and against the stormy sky, was the dark silhouette of the castle.

"Your home." Bellamy muttered from behind her, his voice not quite as teasing as he hoped it would be. To him, it just sounded resentful.
Clarke nodded, and then he urged Butterfly forward, starting the descent into the City, the City that offered everything you wanted, in exchange for everything you had.

That morning

For the second time in a row, Clarke's eyes burned from the tears shed the night before. Part of her knew that the tears weren't just from heartache. If she were not hungry, or not simply exhausted, perhaps she would have been able to contain the emotions that had escaped her at last. Perhaps, it was just this neverending road that drew out all you kept hidden.

Perhaps she had gone mad.

She rubbed her eyes, and found she was the last to wake up. She quickly tidied up her sleeping patch, stepping over the smoldering embers of the fire and walked over to where the others were waiting. They were standing in the middle of the road, seemingly sorting through the last of the food, discussing what could be spared for Bellamy and Clarke, and what would do for the others, until Bellamy caught up with them. The original plan had been to meet back at the Two-Faced Deer, but those plans had been... thwarted. Instead, they were to take the road as slowly as possible. Clarke couldn't help but feel a little bit to blame, though Octavia had tried to soothe her worries more than once. She didn't know how she had survived without Octavia before, or how she would survive without her now.

She did not know how she would survive, period.

They seemed to be finished distributing the food, some salted meat and a partly-stale loaf of bread going into Bellamy's bag, and the rest being repacked into the others. They all stood silent for a moment, and Clarke looked at each of them closely, committing their faces to memory. God willing, she would never forget them.

Bellamy hoisted himself onto Butterfly, his expression very dark. Octavia ran forward and embraced Clarke tightly, before helping Clarke onto the horse's back. Once settled, Clarke gently wrapped her arms around Bellamy's waist, careful not to let her expression give her feelings away. Octavia took her brother's hand and squeezed it gently.
"Godspeed, brother." She said, and gave him a very pointed look, and Clarke could practically feel Bellamy roll his eyes, though she didn't know why. He urged Butterfly into a trot, and they left the others behind them.
As they moved down the road, Clarke heard Jasper shout, "All hail the queen", and then to her surprise, heard a chorus of "hail" from behind her.

If Bellamy felt the wetness of her tears through his shirt, he didn't say anything.

Now, after hours of nonstop travelling, Clarke could see the imposing city gates approaching them. Even in the dull light, they shone brightly, their gold enameling, no doubt, supposed to be welcoming. Now, they just felt mocking. Once behind them, she'd be trapped forever.
Perhaps they won't let us through, She thought desperately, perhaps we look untrustworthy and-
"State your business." The guard asked, sounding bored stiff. A second guard poked and prodded at their bags and cloaks, his nose turned up as if he smelt something bad. He probably did, Clarke realised, she hadn't washed in over a week, and God knows when Bellamy washed last.

"Just my wife and I, visiting her relatives." Bellamy said cheerfully, swinging down off Butterfly. Clarke kept her head down, heaven forbid they recognised her and arrested Bellamy for her kidnap.
"Why does she look away so?" The second guard asked, trying to tilt her head with his hand. Bellamy placed a warning hand on the man's arm, his voice sounding calm, but his eyes threatening.
"She's sick with the movement of the horse, poor woman. I just want to get her rested. Her stomach is empty from her retching, but still..." The guard removed his hand hastily, wiping it on his breastplate.
"Yes, well, carry on."

"Thanking you kindly." Bellamy muttered leading Butterfly forward through the gates and into the city. Clarke turned her head, watching the countryside and her freedom disappearing outside the closing gates.

The heavens opened while they moved towards the castle. Bellamy swore, but then mumbled how it was a good thing- the streets would clear, and they'd reach Jaha faster. True to his word, they were alone in the streets, covered carts and stalls surrounding them, with the occasional sad looking cow giving them a hopeful glance. Clarke noticed the cobblestones getting smoother and cleaner as they reached the heart of the city, and with each new house they passed, she felt herself grip Bellamy tighter, knowing she never wanted to let go.

All to soon, they found themselves in the heart of the city, the Castle's courtyard. It was relatively empty, save for a few disgruntled looking knights, taking shelter from the bitter rain. Bellamy moved to help Clarke down from Butterfly, and she let him, his hands gripping her waist one last time, her hands braced on his shoulders. Their eyes met for a moment, until Bellamy's eyes flickered away. He shook himself, and started leading her towards the castle doors. They stalled outside them, Bellamy giving a questioning look to one of the guards who was watching them curiously. When the guard did nothing, Bellamy shrugged and began to push open the wooden doors. Of course they were stopped, two of the knights, pushing Bellamy against the wall, while grabbing Clarke from behind.
"Who are you? What are you delivering?" One of the knights asked, pointing his sword at Bellamy's throat. Bellamy nodded towards Clarke, and shrugged.

"Lady Clarke Griffin, of course."

Inside the castle walls, Clarke felt her knees go weak from the finality of it all. She tried to walk steadily, but felt her legs go from underneath her, preparing herself for the stone floor, when Bellamy caught, his arms looped around her, pulling her up against his chest. She steadied herself, giving him a nod of thanks. In the chaos surrounding them, she met his eye quickly.
"Thank you. For everything." She mumbled. He looked like he was about to say something, when someone called her name from a height. They both turned towards the interruption.

"Clarke!" Wells called again from the top of the stairs, before running down them, almost pushing people out of the way. He pulled her from Bellamy's arms, inspecting her face in horror. Bellamy had to physically restrain himself from punching him. How dare he touch her like that? And then he remembered that Wells had more right to, than he ever would. It was then, that reality came crashing down. He would never see her again. They'd take her away, fashion her into the queen they wanted, and she'd forget his face one day.

Unless he did something, very, very, stupid.

"I'm not going to lie, Clarke, I can hardly recognise you!" Wells said, only half-joking. She smiled at him weakly, as he walked her away with promises of wine, food and rest.
"And a bath." He added, smiling this time. Clarke was barely listening, as she watched Bellamy over her shoulder.

Hours later, and Clarke was sitting in her new chambers, allowing several maids to braid her wet hair. She looked much better, at least. This would help her hide how miserable she felt. Finally at a mirror, she could inspect her injuries for the first time.
Her eyes were bright and her cheeks rosy from the steam of the bath, and the purple rings under her eyes had faded to a slightly bruised-looking lavender. The cut on her chin was barely noticeable, just shiny and pinkish-red. Her bruise was now a pale yellow that almost matched her skin tone now.

She had laughed out loud earlier, at the faces her maids made, while they were helping her clean. One audibly shrieked at the jagged scar on her arm. The others removed her from the room very quickly. She stopped laughing once they started pulling brushes through the rat's nest that was her hair.

She was reflecting back now, on the brief meeting she had with Jaha and his court. Jaha wanted to hear of nothing but her health, until she insisted that Bellamy was paid his due. She told the King that Bellamy was a farmer's aid who heard her struggling with bandits. She made a great fuss about how he fought them off on his own, ignoring the slightly bemused grin he was giving her. Better she milked this for all it was worth, less people started asking for more details. Within days the story would be exaggerated by gossipers anyway. Eventually, she was allowed to go back to her chambers, leaving Jaha to discuss Bellamy's reward with him.

Now she was sitting quietly in a new nightgown, her hair smoothly pulled back, and almost perfectly styled, while she ate at the fruit and cheese left on the table beside her. She had eaten every day, Bellamy had made sure of that, but now she would treasure every meal she had from now until the day she died. She could see the handmaids raising their eyebrows at the amount of food she had consumed since she walked through the door, but she honestly did not care.

She didn't care about anything like that anymore. Now she was worrying about how she would deal with Wells, what problems in the real world she would tackle first, and how in God's name, she would say goodbye to Bellamy. Suddenly, there was a rough knock at the door, and she knew she had very little time to reach a decision on the latter problem.

Bellamy stood awkwardly in the tiny door frame, the maids staring at him in awe. Clarke cleared her throat loudly, and they all jumped at the noise.
"You can leave us." she said, hoping her voice wasn't shaking.
"But my lady-" One of them interrupted, her eyes wide in shock at Clarke's command. Clarke's eyes narrowed.
"Now."

They all filed out, one by one, the last closing the door behind her, until it was just Bellamy leaning against one of the poles of the bed and Clarke sitting with her hands folded on her lap.

"Did you get what you wanted?" She asked, wincing at how timid her voice sounded. He nodded.
"One thousand gold pieces. Enough to get us through three winters at least. They even offered me a place on the royal guard." They both burst out laughing at the very idea of him in the shiny gold armor.

"Wells would die if he found out what you are." Clarke said, her voice still jumpy from the laughter. She smiled at him, but her grin faltered when she saw how serious his expression had become.

"Are you really going to marry him? I mean, how could you, of all people..." He said, shaking his head from the impossibility of it all. They fell into silence until Clarke said wistfully-
"I have no choice."

Bellamy became angry, a manic look in his eyes.
"Goddammit, Clarke, you do."
He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair, until he walked over to her, pulling her to her feet. His hands never left her arms.

"If I were a better man, a selfless man, I would bend the knee, kiss your hand, walk out that door, and never see you again.
But I'm not that man. Above all things I'm selfish, which is why I'm here."
He took her hands in his, the manic look in his eyes becoming something softer.

"Run away with me. You can come back with me, and your freedom can still be saved. They don't know you like I do, Wells, will never know you as I do. You might not be Queen of the castle, but you could be Queen of something much better. Queen of the rebels." He finished, his voice whispered unsaid promises. Clarke paled in shock. Of all the scenarios she imagined happening this was not one of them.

"Good god," Clarke whispered, "Is this a proposal?"
Bellamy laughed.
"It's whatever the hell you want, princess."

Clarke pulled herself away from him, leaning out the open window, trying to clear her head.
"You said you were drunk, you don't feel as I do..." Bellamy pulled her away from the window, brushing wisps of hair of her face, before settling one hand at the back of her neck, the other stroking her cheek.

"You know that I do."
His eyes dropped to her lips, and then she was kissing him.

When Finn had kissed her, it was gentle, his lips barely there, showing affection, but always careful, fearful of her reputation, her merit, her virtue...
Bellamy didn't give a damn about that.
His lips moved against hers, as if he was desperate, as if he was drowning and she was the first water he'd had in days. He kissed her as if they were nobodies, and yet made her feel like she was everything at the same time.

She was breathless when he pulled away, his hand tangled in her hair, her arms still locked behind his neck. With a breathy laugh, he took her hand, and began pulling her towards the door.
"We'll have to hurry. It'll be noon before they realise you're gone, but we'll have made good distance by then, I've secured two good horses. They won't think you'll have gone with me anyway. Get dressed as fast as you can, I'll pack up this cheese, that'll last..." He stopped, when he noticed the tears falling down her cheeks.
"Clarke, what's wrong?" He asked gently, brushing the tears away with his thumb.

"Bellamy, I... I can't."

A/N: DUN DUN DUN Why won't Clarke do it? You shall find out soon... Really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, seeing as I've planned it since chapter two-ish. Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you thought, because I'm kinda nervous about this one. So, yeah, seeya soon. As always forgive any mistakes.