The small group of people came to a stop and dismounted their horses.
Bellamy could hear them talk among themselves, low voices that were hard to understand. Still, he was almost certain he had heard one of them mention horse tracks. He clenched his jaw, fighting with his rising anger. Stupid snow. The weather really wasn't good for anything. They had probably left a perfect trail of hoof prints, making it easy for anyone to follow them. It was a surprise, then, that no one had caught up with them until now.
He knew that they had Wells to thank for that, at least in part, though he was reluctant to admit it after what the man had pulled. For Clarke's sake he wanted to believe Wells had always had his best friend's interests at heart, and he couldn't fault the guy for that.
But he didn't have time to think more about that, for right then, a tall pasty man - probably their leader - pointed toward where Clarke and Bellamy were hiding.
With an annoyed grimace, Bellamy stepped out into the open, bracing himself. He had no idea what orders they might have gotten. Though at least he was pretty certain they were told not to kill him on sight.
The pasty man and his followers visibly started upon seeing Bellamy, and he saw them draw their weapons. Most of them merely had small daggers, but the tall guy was brandishing a sword. Without his Eternal weapon, Bellamy suddenly felt rather naked. He wouldn't appear to be much of a threat to them. Part of him had secretly hoped there would be an Eternal among them, someone to steal a bandage from, maybe even the weapon.
He would have to go with trying to be friendly, instead.
"You're approaching Silveren territory," the pasty one was informing him, and Bellamy couldn't suppress a smirk.
"I know," he replied, standing up straight, making sure he was eye level with the soldier. He stared at the man, and the man stared right back.
"There's tracks from two horses."
Bellamy rolled his eyes. "So?"
"Who are you traveling with?"
"None of your concern." Bellamy was playing now. He knew that Pasty was very aware of who he was dealing with. There was a flicker in the man's eyes, and Bellamy could tell that the others in the group were all on edge, waiting for something. But he wasn't going to spare them the awkwardness of calling him out.
He saw a nervous tick make Pasty's lip move awkwardly before the man finally hissed, "Don't make this difficult. You're Blake, aren't you? Where have you been?"
"The Council should know what my mission was. I'm not gonna divulge it to you."
There were advantages to being the Captain's son. They all feared her just as much as he did, and they would never question her.
"Be that as it may. You are to come with us now." Pasty was all business, ignoring the insult. "The Council want you back. The Captain wants you back."
Bellamy smirked. "One could almost think they care about me," he quipped and earned himself another glare. He simply couldn't help himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, silently cursing the freaking cold yet again, he waited for the other man's inevitable retort. Surely Pasty would try a stab of his own.
"They are just worried you turned traitor on us. They'll want to question you - especially now that I can't see your weapon on you."
Bellamy raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. He couldn't argue there. The lack of a weapon was rather obvious, of course.
"The second horse?" A woman, much younger, with a prominent tattoo on her face had stepped closer, eyeing Bellamy warily. Something about her seemed… off. The way she carried herself, the way she held her dagger. Bellamy squinted at her.
"It's mine," Clarke's warm voice suddenly piped up behind him, and he fought the urge to whirl around and glare at her. What the hell, Clarke?!
They'd have found out soon enough, anyway. Better just get it over with. Show some good will...
"And who are you?" The troop of soldiers were wary, suspicious. Pasty held up a hand to keep them from moving.
Bellamy slowly stepped slightly in front of Clarke, holding a protective arm in front of her.
"She's with me," he explained, "that's all you need to know."
We could pretend we are willing to do what they want, and try to lose them later, Clarke suggested and he wanted to shake his head, but stopped himself.
No, he communicated, nervous now, we can't risk it. I'll have to…
He felt her press herself against his arm ever so slightly, as if to reassure him, when suddenly, she gasped audibly, catching herself a little too late.
What.
That girl, the one by their leader? I've seen her before. At the hospital. She was a patient of my mom's. Bad injury, almost lost her arm. I remember her because she was the first patient I got to assist her with. Emori...
She was a Golden. Bellamy's features darkened with sudden anger. If she was a Golden, she was surely a Bonded who had infiltrated the Silveren army. He tried to stay calm, tried to think.
We can use this.
No. Clarke instantly knew what he meant. Wouldn't they torture her if they found out? Kill her?
Probably. She's a traitor.
Bellamy, she's one of my people.
He sighed. He hated the infiltrators with a passion. They had lost many good soldiers because of them, had lost fights. They were worse than regular traitors, because they had never actually been on the Silveren side, had been there to bring them down from the very start.
He had always hated the freaking war to begin with, though, and thus anyone who made the number of casualties even higher.
He was also bonded to a Golden himself now, so did that make him a hypocrite? (He wasn't just bonded, either. He was in love, hopelessly, stupidly, dangerously in love.)
He raised his chin, still hearing Clarke's words in his head. Then he addressed the pasty guy once more. "You'll have to let us go on our way."
"I can't do that."
"I'm sure Emori here," the girl flinched slightly at hearing her name, surely shocked that Bellamy knew it, "will be able to confirm that I have matters to attend that can't wait. Direct orders from the Captain."
"You're just using your 'special connection' to the Cap to your advantage." The man sniffed, nostrils flaring with obvious anger. "We have orders, too, and no one mentioned that you'd have a mission still to attend to."
Bellamy stared him down. "Well, be my guest, then. Bring me directly in front of the Council. But don't be surprised if they won't thank you for your service." He extended both hands, wrist to wrist, as if offering himself up to be cuffed.
Bellamy…
Relax, princess. He's not gonna do it. And if he tries after all, I'll just… take care of him.
Take care of him?
But he didn't have to explain the obvious to her. She knew what he meant, and he could feel her disapproval over their link. Thankfully, Pasty - who still hadn't even introduced himself, Bellamy noticed - backed away a little, if undoubtedly annoyed, and shook his head.
"Emori?" He reluctantly turned to look at the young soldier, and she coughed awkwardly before answering.
"Uh, he's… right. Sir. Sorry, I was not at liberty to discuss this before meeting with the Eternal directly, Sir. In fact, I'll… need to have word with him in private. If I may?"
Pasty looked positively exasperated. With a huff, he motioned for his soldier to do as she had seemingly been ordered, and the girl quickly walked a few steps to the side with both Clarke and Bellamy.
Bellamy smirked at her, almost feeling sorry for the Golden Bonded. Almost. He had given the girl a chance, so there was no need for sympathy.
"Clarke, right?" Emori shot an alarmed glance from her to Bellamy, then back. "Is he…"
"Let us go, Em, or you'll all die." Clarke looked at her sternly, her voice firm, brokering no argument. Her tone made Bellamy feel slightly in awe of her.
"What… what's going on? They told me you had escaped together… my partner was there when it happened..."
Something dawned on Bellamy then. "That stupid idiot Murphy is bonded to you?! Really?" He was incredulous. But it was the only possibility, seeing as Wells had left the kid alive. The girl's surprised look confirmed it. "Well, fuck me," it escaped him, and he shook his head, exchanging a glance with Clarke, who shrugged at him.
They were still screwed, then. Emori had probably already informed dear Murphy about their current location. They really needed to get going.
"Are you on their side now, Clarke?" The girl cocked her head, scrutinizing her, "I'm confused. Is he forcing you? What's going on here?"
"We are on nobody's side anymore," Clarke whispered, and Bellamy knew it was true. It was them against everyone now, there were no sides anymore other than their own.
"But..."
"We don't have time. Did you already communicate our whereabouts to the Sergeant?" Clarke asked, absently clutching Bellamy's arm, and he found himself staring at her hand in wonder. He really wasn't alone anymore…
"I," Emori faltered, looking unhappy and put on the spot.
Bellamy closed his eyes briefly. This was all rather unfortunate, a mess that couldn't be resolved.
"They'll find out who you are," he informed the Golden soldier. "You should try and flee as soon as you get the chance. Until then, make sure they believe the story we just made up. If not-"
Without preamble, Emori abruptly pulled out a small revolver, aiming it straight at Bellamy, who squinted disappointedly at her.
"I'm sorry," she muttered unhappily, "but I have my orders, I can't let you go."
Should have just ratted her out…
How would that have solved the problem? Clarke sounded so disapproving even in his head that he had to regretfully smile to himself. Of course that only agitated the soldier in front of him more.
"Is this a joke to you?!"
Clarke tried to intervene by shoving herself between the two. Bellamy glared at her angrily as she did. But when he tried to stop her, Emori waved her firearm around so dangerously close to Clarke that he froze.
"Leave her out of this," he hissed.
"If she survives, I'll bring her home."
"You won't survive shooting me, not with these guys over there waiting…"
"I have my orders." She was insistent, and it made Bellamy's anger rise to irrational levels. "Letting an Eternal go is worse than a little collateral damage. If it means she and I will have to die, so be it."
He rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious."
Emori glared at him. "I'm sorry, Clarke," she muttered, not breaking eye contact with Bellamy.
"Em—"
It all happened so quickly that, for a moment, Bellamy wasn't sure it was really happening. The pasty guy had seemingly finally caught on to the fact that things were going awry under his watch. As he was calling out to them, Emori suddenly got nervous, started fidgeting, and accidentally pulled the trigger. Clarke was still right between her and Bellamy, and despite his best efforts to try and push her away and out of harm's way, he heard a horrible noise as the bullet connected with her body, tearing through her at lightning speed, and all he could do was watch in horror and disbelief as she spread her arms out as the force threw her back and she slumped down, right into his arms.
No.
…
The next few minutes were nothing but a blur. Clarke in his arms, Bellamy felt the shock of the situation assault him in a strange surge. His brain was numb. Emori stared at him, wide-eyed and panicked, her mouth open in shock.
It was as if all noises had accumulated in the loud shot, and only silence was left.
Bellamy blinked, his sluggish mind trying to tell him something. Clarke needed help. He looked down and saw blood seeping through her coat. No no no. He wanted to lay her down gently, but then the reality of their situation finally came back into focus as the forgotten soldiers resurfaced at the periphery of his vision, coming closer.
He was breathing too fast. The world wasn't moving right.
"Freeze! I said fucking freeze!"
A switch was flipped and suddenly Bellamy found himself staring from Emori to the other soldiers, then back. The Golden held her firearm in a loose grip, hand shaky and unsteady. She was saying something, but not to Bellamy.
Then there was another loud bang and he quickly ducked down just in time to avoid being hit, laying Clarke on the ground, steadying himself with one arm to shield her. There was no escaping this anymore. No peaceful solution. It was all going to have to end there.
She stared at him briefly before her eyes rolled back into her head, her consciousness quickly leaving her. Take care of them, was the last thing she communicated, and her sudden determination shocked him. But there was no time for qualms, for thinking this through. Clarke was bleeding too much...
...
With a sudden jump, he returned into a standing position, then whirled around, lashing out with one outstretched leg to kick at the most imminent opponent, making Emori fall.
He heard the other soldiers call out, though what they were saying was still unintelligible to him, as if he had forgotten how to speak their language. He rushed over to the girl, a look of regret on his face as he bent down.
"No, please," she begged, and he stared at her with a grim expression, remembering Clarke's words. One of her people... Take care of them... He swallowed, then tore her gun away from her, glaring at her as he did.
"Don't make me regret this," he muttered before swiftly hitting the girl over the head with the handle of the revolver instead of killing her, and her head rolled to the side as she was knocked out.
"The hell are you doing, Blake?! We should have questioned that girl! She's one of them!" Pasty was in his face, not an inch away. The man didn't know what was coming to him. What was happening.
Until it was too late.
The Silveren soldiers wouldn't back off, he knew that. He needed to keep Clarke safe. It was all that mattered. He needed to make them stop.
And so he did.
...
It was over quickly. The ground under his feet was a bloody mess when he was finished, and he took a shuddering breath as he saw the carnage.
He was a monster, had always been one. But even that didn't matter anymore, because Clarke was still lying on the cold snow, bleeding, and he needed to save her.
She was all that mattered anymore.