The snow began to fall that night, first light and soft, then thick and fast. The various fires and torches cast flickering shadows of grey and purple on the icy ground and with every movement Clarke felt sure they were caught. Her heart wasn't so much in her stomach as her stomach was in her mouth, and a quick glance at Maya's positively green face showed her she felt the same. The wet snowflakes obscured her vision as they caught in her eyelashes, so when the blurry shape of the stables came into view, it came as a surprise.

After making sure the stable boys were all asleep in the haylofts, Clarke motioned for Maya to follow. The cold numbed her nose, and the smell of manure and horse sweat was not nearly as severe as she expected. She quickly approached her stall- during her brief reunion with Wells, he had promised her a new horse, a promise that had been fulfilled posthumously. The animal flared her nostrils at the approaching figures and it took Clarke a while to calm down the high-strung creature. Why did people always insist on getting her such flighty breeds? She saddled the horse without paying much attention, instead seeing that all was prepared for Maya's journey.

"You have the letter?"

"Yes m'lady."

"And you know where to find him?"
"I only know what little you've told me. An avenue of woodland, and then into the marsh. Once there, I'm to attract as much attention as possible. Yells, fires and smoke."
Maya's voice seemed void of emotion. Servants voices always seemed to be that way when talking to their masters.

"We're taught to sound that way so that we don't sound impertinent," Octavia told her once, sometime during the endless travel, "If you ask outright they'll tell you it's because it's easier to remember commands, but it's really so that ladies like you have one less reason to hit us."

Clarke pulled tightly on the final buckle on the bridle and turned to Maya.
"Are you frightened?"
Maya gave a miniscule nod.
"You needn't be. You're strong, and you'll be rewarded for your loyalty to the Kingdom."
Maya shook her head and took Clarke's hand warmly in her own.
"I don't do this out of loyalty to my Kingdom. I do it out of loyalty to you. God save you m'lady."

She clambered on to the horse, leaving a slightly stunned Clarke behind her. She kicked the horse into motion and fled through the gates, ignoring the yells from the confused and half-frozen watchmen. Clarke felt a wave of unease flood through her as she watched Maya's retreating figure.

Dear God, was she doing the right thing?

Clarke turned around, and felt her stomach drop. The stable, previously dark, was now ablaze with light, torches lit inside and out. Clarke knew what was awaiting her inside.

She entered as if she was being announced at court, her neck straight, nose pointed upwards. She met Cage's delighted eyes- delighted that he had finally caught her in an act of defiance- and held his gaze. His glee dulled to grim vexation under her unwavering pride.
"Mistress Clarke. I assume there is an acceptable excuse as to why we find you here. I confess, I am unable to find one that would explain why a lady of your station stands in the stables unaccompanied."

"I was having a message delivered to my mother in Ark. I was not aware that this act is a crime, nor an unacceptable thing for a lady to do." Her strong voice was betrayed by her quivering hands. Cage nodded, relaxing as if the answer was acceptable.
"Sending a message to your mother...," he looked up again, quickly, trying to catch her out, "...at night? Why the secrecy?"

"Privacy, sir, there is a difference."

He looked bemused at her defiance. Not the way Bellamy used to find it amusing, as if he admired her fire. No, Cage looked at her like she was a dog that still strove for the bone in your hand after you refused to give it. A dog that was about to be kicked.

He motioned two of his attendants, already mounted on horses, forward.

"Follow the messenger," He said his voice not quite hushed enough for Clarke to miss the order, "Bring her back."

He turned back, mocking surprise, as if he had forgotten about her standing there.

"Nevertheless, Lady Griffin, it does show certain... indecency. If you require privacy, you may rest assured that my men are to be trusted."
Yes, Clarke thought skeptically, they can be trusted to read the letter once it's in their hands.

He moved closer, his gait overconfident, swaggering, until he was a handswidth away.

"Your comfort here is my top priority until I can find a more... permanent position for you." His gloved hands ghosted over the curve of her throat. Clarke was sure she didn't imagine his gaze flickering over to the great gates of the keep, or rather the array of heads impaled onto the spikes above it. The heads of those deemed less than loyal to House Wallace of late. Clarke felt her resolve weaken a little.
Not that. Anything but that.

He fell back into his false friendly demeanor, just as easily as he had shaken it away.

"Poor child, you must be freezing. Escort the lady back to her chambers," He commanded, his expression triumphant

"See to it her privacy is maintained."

She knew her door was locked before she even opened her eyes. There was no faded warmth from a recently lit fire, no unwelcome sound of a chambermaid wrenching open curtains. No friendly "Good Morrow m'lady" from Maya.

There was no comfort at all.

All the same she bet at the door until her fists were raw, just for something to do. She had expected some sort of reaction, an idle threat from a guard, a barked order to be silent. Instead there was nothing. Clarke wasn't quite sure if it was better.

After her struggles proved fruitless she meandered over to the window, and pondered for a while if she could survive the fall if she jumped. Most decidedly not she concluded, and then wondering if it was coincidence that the Wallaces had moved her to this chamber. Dante had said it was a brighter room, more cheerful. Her mind now suggested that it was more secluded, more hidden. She was trapped.

She rested her forehead against the window with a dull thump, and watched the frosty patterns that stained the glass with each breath. How pretty everything looked in the snow. Icily pretty. Deceptively pretty. Dangerous.

Her life was out of her hands now. God willing, Maya had made it out of the city, and was now on her way to The 100. To Bellamy.

To the Rebel King.

Bellamy was tired. He was hungry. And he was beyond irritated.

It had been amusing at first. The Commander, as the woman insisted on being addressed as, was tiny, almost bird like. However, her dark make-up and heavy furs and armor made her seem six feet tall. Bellamy felt sure that such stubbornness could not be good for one's health. It was sure to get her killed some day.

Her stubbornness was only one of the reasons why the negotiations were continuing for so long. The Grounders refused to tell him why they wanted the information on the Capital. Bellamy felt sure that they were planning an insurrection of some kind, and the way the Commander was acting did little to quash his fears. He'd seen the unease in the City, all over the Kingdom for that matter, and if there was a rebellion... he didn't know what would be reborn out of the ashes. Or who would survive to see it.

Whatever suspicions he had about the Grounders origins before were now solidified. He had no doubt that the tiny Commander was the young Trigedakru princess. The way she walked, talked, even held herself, was reminiscent of the Lady he had left behind. She watched him with careful eyes, as if she could draw out his secrets simply by staring them out of his skull.

"Your information is not worth that." said the Commander's chief negotiator, Indra.
"Our information is not worth two cows and a sack of corn!" Miller answered, his voice full with the exasperation Bellamy felt.

Indra slammed her fist on the table, rattling tankards and papers.
"Tell us your information, and we will then know it's worth!"

Miller glanced over at Bellamy, his expression pleading for him to intervene. Bellamy had told the Grounders that they would discuss payment before any information was passed on. Miller had accepted his judgement without question, as always, but after a week of negotiations his patience was wearing thin, despite knowing the worth of Bellamy's knowledge. Bellamy thought back on the conversation, reminding himself of the knowledge's value.

"So the Jahas are gone?" Miller asked, massaging his temples. Bellamy leaned heavily against the wall, crossing his arms tighter across his chest.
"These Wallaces will not be able to control the country. The people have no love for Cage, and Dante will be dead by the next winter." Bellamy said gruffly, as if he could smother his unease with strength alone.

"Clarke has no claim to the thrown now?"
"None."

They both knew the danger of the Grounders finding out that the new King's claim was so weak. There were so many who missed the old monarchy, despite their wildness and their flighty tempers. The unrest of the nobles and the anger of the poor was spreading across the country like a plague. The promise of a Queen as young and beautiful as Lexa was enough to inspire hope in the most miserable of peasant.

It would be enough to start a war.

A yell of surprise and the following commotion, brought Bellamy out of his mind. The Grounders grabbed weapons, some already pointing broadswords and bows at Bellamy. The commander looked wary, but ordered them down. Bellamy took that as permission and followed his men out of the tent.

Monty was attempting to drag a fine looking horse through the gates. A King's knight was helping him. He wore very expensive armor that looked suspiciously as if it had never seen battle. He wore his hair long, and it hung lank at his shoulders. Beside him, Jasper was talking a very dirty, very frightened, girl. She was dressed in a woolen cloak that was a little too big for her, and her posture screamed "servant". She seemed familiar, but Bellamy couldn't place her. She looked up, as he approached them, and her eyes widened in recognition. Bellamy walked past them, drawing his sword as he went, pointing it at the knight.

"State your business, soldier." He said icily.

The knight raised his hands in submission, inching away from the weapon.
"I mean you and your's no harm. My name is Sir Finn Collins. This," he said pointing to the girl, "is Maya Vie, a lady's maid of Jaha Castle. She served Lady Clarke Griffin, who I believe you are familiar with."

Bellamy lowered his sword. Collins sighed in relief. Bellamy turned to the girl, now that he knew where she came from.

"What of Clarke? Is she in danger?" He said, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to care.
Maya nodded, stepping away from Jasper and giving him a grateful smile. The boy blushed pitifully.

"She has been kept all but prisoner in her chambers, and her future is uncertain. The King has refused her request to return to her mother. All her letters to Ark have been intercepted." She said quickly, as if this part of her message had been rehearsed carefully.
Bellamy nodded, ignoring the curious looks and whispering from onlookers. He glared over at the soldier.

"And who is he? What role does he play in your mission?" Bellamy asked, fixing his grasp on his sword.

"I would not have made it out of the city if it were not for Sir Collins. He knew of Lady Clarke, and swore to help me." She said, and the soldier preened like a prized rooster. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

"What made you trust him?"

Maya froze, as if the idea of not trusting him hadn't occurred to her. She fumbled in the pockets of the cloak for a moment before producing a battered sheet of parchment. She offered it out to him.

"She said it was for your eyes only." She whispered, and he could hear how curious she was to its contents.

Bellamy took the letter, and unfolded it with as little ceremony as was possible. He had to force himself to read it carefully, and was pained at how each word came to him in her voice.

He finished the letter, and felt the color drain from his face. Miller and Octavia were at his side in an instant.

"Brother?" Octavia asked, attempting to prise the letter from his grasp. She jumped when he snatched his hand away.
"Bell? What does she say?"

Bellamy swallowed turning his face a fraction towards Miller.

"Inform the commander that no more negotiations are necessary. We will tell her anything she wishes to know. Octavia prepare for a town meeting."

Miller and Octavia didn't move. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and even the Soldier looked curious.
"Bellamy... why? What does the Princess say?" Murphy spoke up from behind him. Bellamy tensed, and began marching back into the tent.

"That we are going to war."

Bellamy,

You are, no doubt, very angry with me, perhaps more so than I am with myself. Despite your very rightful hatred of me, I beg for your help. There is no one but you left that I can truly trust. We both know that Wells was murdered, but there is worse still. His killer may very well be close to my person as you read this. Forgive me, but I cannot say more, less this letter falls into an enemy's hands, and now I fear I have many.

I have no right to ask this of you, but I fear not only for my life, but for the lives of many, and I ask you to help me. Help me before I am forced into betraying my King, my country, and worse still, you.

Everything is in peril. I feel in my heart that war approaches, and when it does, I want to be beside you.

My letter must be brief, and I must now bid you adieu, and pray for your arrival.

Yours,

Clarke

A/N: I'm alive! I won't bore you with details, but I have been very busy. Updates will still be quite sporadic, but hopefully more often, and you won't have to wait another six months. Thanks to all my new followers and my faithful reviewers! As always please leave a comment if you enjoyed or have any predictions! I'll see you all soon!