Several minutes later, while Clarke and Bellamy were quietly arguing over their escape plan, a female Grounder stepped into the tent. Clarke's hand froze on Bellamy's chest and the Grounder, carrying what looked like food and water, stopped short. No one moved. She simply stared at them and their discarded clothes on the floor. The Grounder's tray clattered to the floor and her eyes grew wide with the realization of what had transpired. She bolted out of the tent yelling in her native tongue.

"Looks like its show time, Princess." Bellamy said, reaching over and grabbing their clothes. He tossed hers in her lap. "Get dressed, we don't have much time."

Formalities aside, Clarke hastily pulled on her clothes in front of Bellamy. She sneaked a glance over at him and caught him staring, his eyes lingering as she tugged down her shirt. Clarke scowled at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing." he said through gritted teeth as he tightened his belt. "Just never thought the morning after sex would be so exciting."

Clarke hit him on the shoulder.

"You know, I actually find that surprising coming from a Blake." she teased. Bellamy grinned and pulled her towards him. He gently stroked her jawline with his thumb and bent down, gently kissing her. Clarke melted into him, taking comfort in his light touches. She had never known Bellamy Blake to be so gentle.

When they finally pulled away he said, "What'd you say Clarke, ready to kick Grounder ass?"

"Let's not get carried away…" she began just as the tent flap opened again and Grounders came pouring in with weapons raised. Clarke was still standing incredibly close to Bellamy with her hands resting on his chest. And as all the men and women watched, Bellamy bent down close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. The whole display must've looked like a very intimate gesture.

"Remember, we stick to the plan." he whispered.

"Because we always follow the plan." Clarke hissed, her tone mocking. She stared at him, her eyes hard.

The Grounders who were murmuring amongst themselves tightened the circle around them, spears and axes pointed in their direction. That's when Graul entered the room, Anya's second in command – her brother, the creep who wanted to impregnate her. His presence alone heightened the tension within the tent. He was dressed all in furs and an animal mask hid his face from view.

"Pull them apart!" he ordered and Bellamy was quickly taken from her. Clarke didn't scream, but she did resist – it was instinct. The Grounder who had grabbed her was beefy and smelled of dried blood. His breath was like acid upon her skin. He also had roaming hands that attempted to travel up her shirt. Bellamy's eyes, from across the room, burned with anger as he watched – his jaw clenching and unclenching. He struggled slightly against his own captor, looking fervent. Clarke slammed her heel on the Grounder's foot as hard as she possibly could. The Grounder yelped in agony. His dropped his hands immediately and Clarke grinned, pleased.

Graul walked towards her then, looking very different from yesterday. He looked like a warrior today, dressed in battle regalia. How could one's demeanor change so quickly? She glared at him.

"You are quite the defiant girl – obnoxiously stubborn. Although, I really shouldn't call you a girl now should I?" he stopped inches away from her face, his breath just as rank as all the others. "That was a poor choice on your part Clarke, a poor, poor choice."

"I was never as innocent as you made out me to be." she fired back.

"It's a shame, really…" Graul started, taking a step back. He bent his head so Clarke had to stare into the eyes of his mask. "You're a beautiful woman, you remind me so much of my sister. It's too bad that you have to watch your mate die…"

For a moment Clarke was dumbfounded. She didn't have a mate – she didn't even have a boyfriend. However, when Bellamy was shoved forwards, the realization hit her. They intended to kill him. They intended to kill him and punish her for what she did to defy them.

"No!" she screamed. Graul looked back at her and gave a short laugh. As he strode towards Bellamy, Clarke fought, kicked and clawed at the Grounder holding her in a failed attempt to reach him. He was brought to the center of the tent where Graul came to stand beside him.

"I must admit," he said, staring at Bellamy. "He looks like a fine warrior, but it's unlikely he will be able to defeat one of Anya's men, one of my men."

"I will shoot any son of a bitch you throw at me." Bellamy snarled.

The room erupted into laughter.

"A true warrior does not hide behind machinery." Graul replied, "And, besides, in the arena the only protection you'll have is your fists and wit."

"Well it's a good thing that I'm known for being incredibly witty." Bellamy said with bitterness in his voice.

"We will see about that." Graul growled and pushed him towards the exit. "Take him to the pit – we will have blood spilled today."

"No! Don't do this!" Clarke cried out.

Bellamy shot her a disparaging look before being dragged outside the tent. Before Graul left, he stopped one last time to stand in front of her and ran a sausage like finger down her cheek.

"I failed to mention one last detail," he murmured. "If your mate actually ends up defeating one of my men… he will have to fight you and whoever wins, well, they're allowed to return home."

This was definitely not a part of the plan.