Chapter 9: Sky Born
- Three Days Earlier -
"You sent for me, ai Haiplana?" the man asked, his head bowed just low enough to show the proper amount of respect for his Queen. As was also proper, he held his bow and kept his gaze on the rough gray stones of the floor as he waited for her to acknowledge him, his teeth tightly clenched to control the simmering anger that always filled him whenever he was forced to be in her presence.
"I did… Please, join me," she said after a brief moment, her tone giving nothing away. The man lifted his head, shaking the dark curls of his unruly hair out of his eyes. The Queen was seated at the head of the long, wooden table that occupied one side of her audience hall. There were currently only two chairs at the table, and she sat regally in hers, the remains of an extravagant meal spread out before her. She appeared both at ease and thoroughly in control, and he supposed she had every reason to be so here at the center of her growing empire, surrounded as she was by warriors willing to fight and die at her command. Her apparent relaxation was entirely deceptive, however, as her eyes were alert and studying him with all the cunning intensity of a fish eagle searching the icy waters below for hidden prey.
With one hand she indicated the empty chair beside her, gesturing for him to take it. He approached cautiously, struggling to gauge her mood and intentions. She had little use for him, despite his high station and singular bloodline, and had often told him so. It had been months since he was last called before her, in fact, and this unexpected summons now left him anxious and uncertain. The Queen never did anything without a reason… within a reason, within a reason… He both desperately wanted to know why he was here and dreaded it at the same time.
He pulled the heavy chair out from the table and carefully took his seat, knowing as he did so that he probably looked as stiff and uncomfortable as he felt. It angered him that she could likely see his discomfort. He often imagined that she reveled in his dislike of her, in the fear that she could cause in him, and in the near absolute control she exerted over his life. When he allowed himself to dwell on this, it never failed to make him want to lash out at her… or at anyone who happened to be convenient in that moment, for that matter. Both of them knew that he wouldn't, however. Not if he wished to protect that which he held most dear. So rather than spend his hours plotting her demise and fall from power, he instead allowed himself to drown in the pleasures of her court… In the plentiful food and drink. In sparring with his fellow warriors, and bedding all of the many women who flocked to him for his good looks, his bloodline, and his position.
This might be a hollow life I am living, and it might be a big disappointment to some, but at least this keeps me sane and my sister safe… That's all that really matters.
"It has been quite some time since we last spoke… Tell me, how is that bastard sister of yours doing? Still well, I hope?" the Queen asked, her voice pleasant and pale eyes watching his face for his reaction.
He felt very little surprise that nearly the first words out of her mouth were a poorly veiled threat. This was exactly how she always reasserted her control over him, and she no doubt wanted to make it clear from the outset that she held all the power in this conversation.
"You did not call me here to talk about my sister," he growled, refusing to discuss her with this loathsome woman.
This was nothing new. He was used to people threatening his sister. They'd been doing so ever since her illegitimate birth was first discovered and his mother soon after executed for her adultery in the city square. In fact, his own father had sworn on many occasions that he himself would kill the infant Octavia whenever he saw her next, thereby removing forever the stain on his honor and the proof of his wife's betrayal. Bellamy remembered running back to the rooms he had shared with his mother and scooping up his small sister, cradling her in his arms as they hid in fear from his father, terrified that he might actually carry out his threats.
"No, Belomi, your sister Okteivia is not why I summoned you… I do not wish her ill, but I care little for what happens to your sister," she conceded, and Queen Nia of the Ice Nation leaned back in her chair, a cold smile on her face. He wondered if it was meant to look friendly, but he had never truly seen any such warm expression as that on her face. Not even towards his father, back when he was still alive and King of Azgeda, and she naught but his new wife. His father the king had died only several years after their marriage, killed during a surprise skirmish with a Trikru warband, and Bellamy had not yet been of age at the time. Nia had easily seized control of Azgeda the moment the king's funeral pier was lit. So swift and brutal was her seizure of power that it had hardly mattered that she was not of Skaibona descent, and that Bellamy was in fact the true heir.
"Spring has come to Azgeda… The ice and snows have already melted and the mountain passes are now clear. As you are no doubt aware, this means that the raiding season will soon begin."
He felt a prickling of interest at this topic despite himself. He had always wished to join the raids, but leaving his sister alone and unprotected in the Ice Nation capitol while he was off fighting Trigedakru warriors in the south had never been a real option. Despite what she had just said, the Ice Queen had always been a real threat to Octavia's life. After his father was killed in battle and she took power, a younger Bellamy had hoped that his little sister might be able to live a more normal life now, free of fear and the need to keep mostly hidden and out of sight, but he had quickly learned that this was only wishful thinking. Nia had needed leverage over the young prince, and his beloved sister had proven to be the most expedient method. The day he came of age, she had made it perfectly clear to him that he must stay in line and do exactly as she wished, or it would be his sister who bore the consequences.
"Why should I care about raids that I am not allowed to participate in?" Bellamy asked, some of his frustration leaking into his voice.
"Have I forbidden you from joining the warriors on their raids, Hainofa Belomi?" she asked, her tone deceptively gentle, as though she were truly puzzled by what he had said. It was a farce, of course. She knew very well why he couldn't leave with the warbands.
She calls me Prince, but it would be more accurate for her to call me her slave, he thought bitterly.
Prince he might still be – and one of the Skaibona, a direct descendant of the sacred Sky Born – but it meant little as long as Queen Nia ruled in Azgeda. The age of peaceful Skaibona rule in Azgeda had come to an abrupt end when his father was killed. Nia and her bloodthirsty policies of expansion by warfare were now the future, and there was little place for him or his kind in her new vision for the Ice Nation.
Bellamy did not answer her, but instead stayed silent. He only had one reason to be here, and that was to do whatever must be done to protect his sister. As angry as he was and as quick as his temper could be, until she told him what it was she wanted from him, his goal would be best served by keeping his mouth shut.
"Well, no matter," she said after the brief silence, her eyes still rapt on his face. "As it so happens, you will soon get your wish to see the lands of Trigeda after all… I have a special mission for you, Belomi, and it is an urgent one. It will require that you leave tomorrow and take a small and loyal war party with you. Your mission will not be to make war, however, but instead to make peace."
Bellamy eyed her with disbelief.
"Peace, ai Haiplana? What use have you for peace with Trikru?" he asked.
Surely this must be a ruse of some kind? Some deeper plot was at work here, some ulterior motive. The idea of Queen Nia wishing to seek peace with the Woods Clan was laughable… And that she apparently wished to send him on this mission of peace made it even more so, considering that she knew very well of his dislike for their southern neighbors. Their warriors had killed his father when he was on the cusp of manhood, and that was not something one simply forgot when they became an adult. Blood must have blood, after all.
"War is often necessary, it is true, and I am more than willing to spill blood for the benefit of Azgeda, but that doesn't mean I am incapable of seeing when peace might be better," she told him reasonably, then continued, "No, not better… Necessary. Azgeda requires peace with Trigeda if we are to prosper and grow. I have simply come to recognize that fact for what it is."
"You would have us ignore the years of blood spilt, then? The countless lives they have taken from us… Lives which include my father, a King of Azgeda?" he asked accusingly, his voice rising a bit as he spoke.
She raised an eyebrow at his heated words, leaning forwards in her chair to regard him critically.
"You surprise me, Belomi," she said, and her words and posture took on a decidedly dangerous aspect. He felt a chill pass through him and he stiffened, regretting his poorly thought out response. Goading the Ice Queen was not the best way to protect his sister. He wished he had not opened his foolish mouth.
"With the company you keep, I should have thought that you would be happy to help me bring peace between our two peoples," Queen Nia said, her voice a threatening purr. "Do you not share your friend's principals, then? Is your hatred for Trikru so strong that you are incapable of taking on this important task? Or do you simply require additional… incentive?"
First my sister, now this!… Why does she have to bring her into this as well?
Bellamy felt his hatred rise up in him again. Spirits, how he loathed this woman. There was no point in dragging this out. They both knew that he would do what she ordered in the end whether he agreed with it or not.
"Why me?" he asked, steering their conversation back to the mission she had mentioned and away from any talk about possible "incentives".
"You are a Prince of Azgeda… They will respect you, and when you speak for peace they will know that you speak for me. I cannot go myself, for obvious reasons," she explained.
He considered this for several seconds, still struggling to imagine why she now wanted peace with a people she had only ever sought war with before.
"If it's a prince you require, then why not send your own son? Prince Roan is older, and he is your son by blood. Wouldn't they trust his words on your behalf over mine?"
Nia reacted strangely to his question, a slight flinch of her eyes and twisting at the corner of her mouth. It was the first true emotion he had seen in her since he entered the room, and Bellamy wondered at it.
"Roan is… not available," she said after a pause, and nothing about the statement suggested that she would appreciate any further questions on the subject. He wanted to ask why, to pursue the issue further, but her son had always been a sensitive issue with the Ice Queen. She had made him officially a prince when she first took power, but their relationship had always been contentious. Roan was older and Bellamy did not know him very well, but he had always got the sense that the man secretly disliked his mother and her manipulations just as much as he himself did. The other man certainly seemed to enjoy defying her at every turn, and his efforts to do so often became the court's latest gossip.
What has Roan done now?
"Besides," she continued, "Roan may be my son, but unlike you he is not one of the Sky Born… Many of the other clans still know and respect the sacred Skaibona. It will lend even more credence to your message of peace."
She needs me… Trikru will never trust that it is she who really wants peace. They know how bloodthirsty she is. The Ice Queen needs someone like me to give them a reason to listen.
This realization, that she needed him specifically to make her plan work, gave him an idea. If she needed him, then perhaps he could use this to his advantage. She was no longer the only one with leverage in this conversation, and he wouldn't hesitate to use that.
"If you so badly need my help, ai Haiplana, then I will of course assist you as best I can… But I will need something in return," he told her, praying that he had judged the situation correctly and not just overplayed his hand.
She smiled a cold, sly smile, leaning back in her chair. He waited to see what she would say, struggling not to sweat nervously under her penetrating gaze.
"Very well, Belomi, I am not completely unreasonable. What do you require?"
He felt his lungs expand in relief, though he hadn't even realized he had been holding his breath.
"First… my sister. She comes with me on this peace mission of yours."
The Ice Queen nodded immediately, her expression vaguely annoyed, as though she had been expecting this from him and found his predictability boring.
"Of course, your sister. As I said earlier, I care very little what becomes of her. She is free do what she wishes. It is of no concern to me…" she said, and he again felt a wave of relief pass through him.
That was the easy one… Now for the hard part.
"Is that all?" she asked, a note of impatience in her voice. Now that he had agreed to do her bidding, she was eager to give him the details and be rid of him, no doubt.
"No, there is something else I need. Before I agree to carry out your mission for peace, there is one other person who must be free to come with me."
Understanding lit her features immediately, and her face hardened into a frown.
"No. Absolutely not."
"Then I will not go," he insisted, and he was proud when his voice held firm and unyielding. He couldn't back down, or she would sense his lack of resolve and this gamble would not succeed.
They glared at each other, the young Prince and the Queen of Azgeda, neither braking eye contact. Bellamy would not allow himself to falter. He might never have an opportunity to try like this again, and he owed her this much, at least, after what he had done.
"Very well, I agree to both of your terms," Nia finally conceded, but her voice was glacial. "Now, we haven't much time, your party must be ready to leave at dawn… Let's discuss the details of the peace negotiations with Trikru that I wish you to propose…"
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Octavia looked up when the door to their rooms swung open and her brother entered, his darkly attractive face drawn and worried in the dim candlelight. She eyed him with concern as he crossed the room, throwing off his warm overcoat and slouching into his favorite chair in front of the small fireplace. That he hadn't acknowledged her was annoying, and she stood and went over to join him, standing impatiently next to him as he continued to stare into the fire.
"Well?" she asked impatiently, and still he didn't look at her. "You were gone a long time… What did the bitch want?"
She was speaking in their ancestral slang, and he looked up sharply at her use of the vulgarity.
"Language, 'O," he admonished, also speaking in the slang of their people. There were not many pure blooded Skaibona families left these days, but there were still several small villages within Azgeda that were predominately of Sky Born descent, and children there were raised bilingual in most Skaibona families. Of course, all warriors of the clans eventually learned the enemy's language, Gonasleng, as well, and it was nearly identical to theirs. However, the enemy's language had a slightly different cadence and rhythm, and a true Skaibona could tell the difference almost immediately.
"Oh, come on, Bellamy! What, you suddenly expect me to show respect for authority figures now? I'd say it's a bit late for that, don't you?"
He frowned at her, and she wanted to punch his too serious face in frustration. This often happened to her, this urge to physically lash out in some way, to be violent. Sometimes when Bellamy left and she was forced to stay locked in this room alone, she would scream into the furs of her bed over and over for hours, and beat her fists uselessly against its tough mattress until her knuckles cracked and bled. On the rare occasions Bellamy felt it was safe enough for her to venture outside without him, she often felt an almost uncontrollable urge to just start running and never stop… Run away from this stupid fortress, the men and women living in it who would be more than happy to see her dead, and the endless consolations and apologies her brother gave her.
She hated this place and its people. Hated that her mother had been executed here simply for the sin of having given birth to her. Hated that the King, and now the Queen since his death, both simply saw her as an expendable means to control her brother. More than anything, Okteivia kom Skaibona kom Azgedakru wished she could leave this land of ice and shattered hopes and dreams far behind her forever, leave and never look back.
"Well, are you going to answer me, or just criticize my choice of words?"
Her brother sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly with one hand.
"She wants me to go into Trikru lands and negotiate a peace treaty with them on her behalf," he explained, giving her a brief synopsis of their conversation.
"She wants you to make a peace treaty with Trikru?" Octavia echoed with disbelief, knowing how her brother felt about the Woods Clan.
"Why would you help her do this? What are you getting out of it?" she asked.
"Well, you, first off."
"What do you mean, me, exactly?"
"I got her to agree to let you come with me," he told her, eyes twinkling, a sly grin forming on his lips.
"Wait… I get to come with you? Me? I get to leave Azgeda with you?!" she replied, her voice rising with her excitement. "Bell, this is amazing!" she cried, pulling him into an exuberant, crushing hug. "I can't believe you… This is just… Thank you! You are the best brother ever, I swear! If I ever do anything again to make you angry…"
"Then I'll know you've gone back to normal," he grumbled into her shoulder, but she could hear that he was still smiling. Octavia pulled back from the hug, stepping away from him.
I can't believe this… Finally! We are finally getting away from here.
"When do we leave? Is it soon? There's probably stuff to pack… Should I start to pack?" she asked, and he shook his head at her eagerness.
"We leave in the morning, so… Yes, we should both be getting ready. I have something I need to take care of before we can leave, though."
"Really? What's that?"
Bellamy sighed, pulling himself up out of his seat and looking back at her with a troubled expression.
"There is someone else who needs to come with us… And somehow, I don't think she is going to be very happy to see me."
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The dank smell and dark, wet silence of the fortress dungeons was heavy and oppressive. It pressed down upon the souls who were kept captive within it, an aura of suffocating helplessness and despair that was always present and waiting to choke the remaining spirit from them if they allowed themselves to fall victim to it. The unrelenting quiet was disturbed only by a steady, repetitive scraping sound, the scratch-scratch-scratch of a sharpened rock as it was drawn against the stones of the small cell.
The prisoner's head lifted when she heard the heavy clomp of footsteps approaching down the hall, and she set down her rough implement and drew her shackled feet up under her, gathering herself for whatever might come. It was late. The evening meal, such as it was, had already come and gone, and it was unusual for guards to visit at such a late hour. Where her thoughts before had been pleasantly empty, her clever mind now came fully awake, working quickly to become a ready, focused weapon. Her father had always told her that her mind was her greatest weapon, and she certainly hoped that was true. Her mind was all she had left, now.
It had been almost six months by her count. Surely the Queen was not going to delay much longer, and had finally decided on what to do with her? She felt a cold, steady dread building in her chest, shortening her breath. She could feel the sensations there in her body, but they also felt strangely muted and distant... Six months of imprisonment and left her with lots of time to contemplate her probable fate, and she found that she had become somewhat numb to the emotions of fear.
The noises in the hall grew louder and her door clattered and screeched with protest as it was abruptly unlocked and flung open, two figures visible in the torchlight beyond. A guard she recognized entered with the torch and she squinted at the sudden brightness, blinded by it. Her eyes had become accustom to the dark of her cell at night, barely lit as it usually was by what little moonlight managed to peak through the small slit window high above her.
"On your feet, prisoner," the guard growled to her, though he hardly looked in her direction. Instead, he turned and wedged the lit torch into the bracket meant for it next to the still open door, then stepped back into the hall, speaking to the person still outside. She complied with his command mostly because she preferred to face whatever was to come on her feet, but she did so slowly, never wanting to appear too eager to do as she was told. Small acts of defiance were all she really had left these days to amuse her.
"She's all yours, ai Hainofa," he told the figure beyond respectfully, and his groveling tone made her want to sneer in disgust. He handed something over to the person, and she strained to see what it was as her eyes adjusted to the light.
"I would be careful, though," the guard added a second later, a hint of his normal cruelty coloring his voice, "She is a feisty one."
With that he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps slowly disappearing down the hall. The other man stepped forward into the cell once he was truly gone, and she felt herself stiffen involuntarily when his darkly handsome features were illuminated before her by the torchlight. This was not who she had been expecting. The numbness she had been feeling quickly vanished, replaced by a simmering anger that slowly built within her, warming her chest and stomach for what felt like the first time in months. Her blue eyes narrowed, mouth tightening into a thin line of barely contained rage.
"Well, if it isn't the Prince of Azgeda," she said disdainfully in the language of the Sky Born, and Bellamy flinched slightly at her words, his eyes wide and sad as he took in her bedraggled appearance.
"Clarke…" he said, and she heard his throat catch slightly on her name.
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head at him angrily, "You don't get to speak to me, not after what you did… You shouldn't even be here, Bellamy. What are you doing here?"
"I'm saving you," he told her, and she couldn't help her involuntary gasp of surprise at this, or the hope that suddenly filled her at his words. She quickly squashed it, not daring to believe him.
That's exactly what he told me last time… I don't need him to save me, not the way he chooses to do it.
"Hah, that's funny," she scoffed, "But why should I believe you?... You're the reason I'm in here!"
"Clarke, please… You know I never meant for…"
"You never meant for what, Bellamy?" she interrupted again, her shackles rattling as she took a fierce step towards him, voice rising as she let vent a bit of her anger, "You never meant for me to be imprisoned? You never meant for my father to die? Well, he is dead, thanks to you! And nothing you say or do can ever change that!"
There were frustrated tears building in her eyes, the grief over her father's death still raw even after all these months.
"I was trying to save you, Clarke!" he protested, and his expression was raw and anguished. She hated that he dared to come in here and act like the wounded one, as though his hurt was equal to hers. She didn't want to feel for him, or to see his side. He had betrayed her, and her father was now dead as a consequence. Nothing he said or did would ever fix that.
"I meant to catch you before you made it to the border, to stop you from crossing the boundary with Trikru… I didn't know you had already made it across. I would never have brought the Queen's men with me if I had. You have to know that, Clarke… I was trying to keep you from being banished, or worse, executed as a traitor for breaking the Queen's command. What you were trying to do was too risky!"
"What I was trying to do… taking that risk, it was my decision to make, not yours!" she shouted, incredulous that he still didn't seem to understand that. He may have been trying to protect her, yes, but he had taken that choice away from her. What was worse, she likely would have been able to save her father's life if he hadn't intercepted her.
Clarke's father, a gentle and intelligent man who had only ever wanted peace between the clans, had been shot by a Trikru arrow while travelling near the borderlands. He'd survived the initial wound and been rushed home to be treated by her mother, but the arrowhead had been poisoned, and it quickly became obvious that he was going to die no matter what they did. It was not the first time an Azgeda had died from one of their fiendish poisons, and the symptoms were well known. The only antidote was to be found in Trikru lands, and even Abby didn't know specifically how it was made. Her father had lay dying on her mother's healing table, and Clarke had been enraged that everyone was simply willing to just give up and let him slowly die.
To trade with or make peace with anyone from Trikru was forbidden by the Ice Queen. Only warbands and raiding parties were allowed to cross the border these days. For anyone else to do so was a death sentence, but Clarke had not cared. She had been determined to save her father, whatever the costs, so she had snuck away at sundown, taking her mother's horse and riding foolishly hard, reaching the border with Trikru by dawn. Before the Kings death, relations between Azgeda and Trikru had been much friendlier. People had travelled between the two clans on occasion, and some trade had occurred between them. She knew of a healer among Trikru whom her mother had often traded knowledge and supplies with when she was a girl, and so she had gone straight to Nyko's village near the border, seeking him out in secret and begging him for the antidote needed to save her father. The large man had been wary at first, but he then claimed to remember her mother and her unique, bright blonde hair, and had readily given her what she needed. It had seemed as though she might actually succeed in her plan, and she quickly crossed back into Azgeda lands with the medicine. It was then, however, that Bellamy and Queen Nia's warriors had found her.
They stared at each other in silence, all that was between them and all that had happened in the past playing behind both of their eyes. They had been friends, once. Many discounted Prince Bellamy off hand as a generally useless young man, too focused on his own pleasures and vain pride to care much about his people. Most only saw his arrogance, and his apparent preference for doing whatever he wished and not caring very much about anything at all. But Clarke had always seen past that. As daughter to the Queen's chief healer, she had once witnessed Bellamy bring his sister to her mother for healing after she had fallen and broken her wrist, and the loving protectiveness he had shown for the girl had left an impression on her. He did care about one thing, at least, and since that moment, a young Clarke had realized that there might be a truly good person hidden inside of him, and she had struck up a cautious friendship with the older boy.
He was driven almost solely by his need to protect his younger sister, and it was that redeeming quality which had led her to think he might be more than everyone assumed. It was therefore somewhat ironic that it was his misplaced urge to protect her that had actually caused her imprisonment.
"I'm sorry, Clarke," he said finally, and her heart twisted at the words. "I never meant for all of this to happen… I liked your father. He was a good man. I never wanted him to die, but I can't change the past. I'm here now because I want to save your future! Queen Nia has agreed to allow your release, but you can't stay here in the city. She is sending me on a mission to Trigeda… She wants me to make peace with the Woods Clan. I convinced her to free you in return for my help, but you have to come with me and Octavia."
"Queen Nia wants peace?" she repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief, "Bellamy, whatever she has told you, you can't tell me you actually believe that?"
"I don't know what to believe," he admitted, "And I don't care, because it doesn't matter. All I know is, this is what I need to do to protect my sister… and you."
"Of course it matters!" she protested, wanting to pace but not able to do so easily with her iron shackles, her mind working over this information at an alarming pace.
"Bellamy, come on! Think for a moment… The Queen hates you, and she hates Trikru. What possible gain could she achieve by sending you to them to ask for peace? More than likely this is a trap for you and the Woods Clan, and you are walking right into it!"
The prince shook his head stubbornly, and she wanted to rage and scream at his obstinacy. This entire situation made zero sense, and Bellamy should be asking himself many questions about the Queen's true motives, but instead he was doing what he always did. Focusing only on protecting his sister and ignoring the bigger picture at play. The Ice Queen could not be trusted, and that she was allowing her, a convicted traitor, to go free and join him on his mission only made Clarke even more suspicious.
This could start a war, and he's probably going to get himself killed… and his sister.
She tried to ignore the worry she felt at this thought, but it was difficult. Blame him for her father's death she might, but Clarke had never been one for blind vengeance. Plus, she might not always see eye to eye with his sister Octavia, but she didn't necessarily dislike the younger girl, despite her often reckless and immature behavior. Octavia had lived a difficult and stifling life here, she knew, one already filled with too much tragedy, and she didn't deserve further suffering because of her brother's foolishness.
"Fine. If I am truly free, then why must I go with you?" she asked, changing the subject. She had been a prisoner for almost six months. If she was free, then she simply wanted to go home, not go gallivanting off on a suicide mission with the man who had betrayed her.
"You can't stay here, Clarke, and you know why… The only reason the Queen hasn't had you executed yet is because you are still one of the Sky Born, and she needs your mother to remain loyal and continue serving as her chief healer."
"Being Skaibona doesn't seem to mean all that much in Azgeda these days," Clarke muttered, but she couldn't argue with his logic. "I suspect that she would execute all of us if she thought she could get away with it… You included."
He didn't reply to this, but she knew he probably agreed. The days of their people peacefully leading Azgeda were long gone. His father's untimely death had seen to that.
"So, what's the plan, then? Am I supposed to come with you tied up in chains?"
"No, I have some servants waiting down the hall. A room has been prepared for you where you can bathe and change. I've already told Abby that you're being released… She will be waiting for you there, I suspect. I told her to pack your things for you. You are no longer a prisoner, Clarke, but you can either join us voluntarily as our healer, or I can tie you to a horse and drag you along. It's your choice."
She smiled at this, but there was no humor in it. It was not chains and shackles that truly made one a prisoner, after all. Though he didn't look it, Bellamy himself was as much a prisoner as she was.
"Fine. Get me out of here, then. I haven't had a bath in months, and I could go for a change of clothes."
He actually laughed at that, a sparkle of good humor returning to his eyes. He seemed relieved that she was no longer fighting him on this.
"I'd noticed," he said, waving a hand at her appearance. "You look like hell, Clarke," he added, and though he tried to make the comment sound like a joke, she could hear the concern and worry in his voice. He was probably wondering just how bad her treatment had been here as the Queen's prisoner.
If only he knew…
"Dirt washes off. Clothes can be changed. I'm fine," she retorted, cutting short his concern. She ignored the gaping, roaring desolation that six months of imprisonment on the heels of her father's death had created within her soul, shoving down the agony and rage that now permanently lived somewhere deep within her. He crossed over to her, his hands holding the ring of keys the guard had given him, and he carefully unfastened her bonds. Clarke rubbed her sore wrists when he was finished, feeling so light that she feared she might drift up from the ground and float away.
"Take me to my mother," she ordered the prince. Not waiting for him to lead the way, the younger girl strode confidently out of her cell, back straight and posture commanding despite the dirt and rags that covered her thin form.
Bellamy waited for a moment before grabbing the torch and following her, his eyes making a slow circuit of the small stone room. Nearly every available inch of it was covered in intricate drawings… Etchings, he realized, painstakingly scraped into the hard stones using a sharpened rock as a stylist. They were simultaneously beautiful and heart wrenching… As though the vibrant spirit and soul of the formidable young woman who had been kept here had spilled out onto the walls for all to see. There were places, plants and animals, and even some people. One etching in particular drew his eye, though it was no one he recognized. A woman, her eyes fierce and hooded in a young and arresting face, stared out from the flat surface of the stone as though she were about to leap forth from it and into the room. Something about her was more vivid, more real than the other etchings, and he studied it for a moment before he heard Clarke's voice calling for him impatiently.
With one last glance around the room, Bellamy stepped from the cell and hurried after her, and the receding torchlight soon dimmed the orange light from the walls, shading the mysterious woman's features in darkness once more.
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Bellamy had not lied about the bath. Clarke let herself sink into the small metal tub, submerging her head completely for what must be the hundredth time. Servants had been waiting for her in the room, and after taking her clothes – though rags was perhaps a more accurate description – from her, they had proceeded to douse her in bucket after bucket of water, scrubbing her skin raw with rough soap and brushes. She had shivered and stood meekly and without complaint throughout their rough handling. She knew that the level of filth on her skin and in her hair was no simple matter to remove, and more than anything she ached fiercely to be completely clean. After the scrubbing, they had combed her tangled hair, cutting several inches from it with sharp scissors to remove the worst of the knotted ends. It had grown during her captivity, of course, and so she did not mourn the lost length in the least. Once the servants had been satisfied with their work, they had finally allowed her to slip into the heated bath that stood in one corner of the room, and now she luxuriated in the sensation of being clean, the warm scents of lavender floating up from the soap and oils they had added to the water.
If Bellamy thinks this royal treatment is going to make me forgive him sooner… He might just be right, she though, letting loose a contented sigh. In just a few hours, she knew she would need to depart on a long and dangerous journey into hostile lands, but for now, she would allow herself to enjoy the first real comfort she had felt in almost six months.
When the water at last began to cool, Clark pulled herself to her feet, stepping free of the tub. She wished she had a mirror to study herself in, but at the same time she was glad she didn't. Looking down at her naked body now, she knew she bore the physical effects of having spent so many months in captivity. They had fed her, of course, and better than many of the other prisoners because she was both Sky Born and the daughter of the Queen's chief healer, but the constant chains and lack of real physical activity had not been beneficial. She was far thinner than her normal weight, and her body and muscles were noticeably weaker. Clarke knew that she could probably count most of her ribs if she wanted to, and the realization dismayed her. With the condition she was in, this journey was shaping up to be even more difficult than she had previously contemplated.
Oh well… A few good meals and some fresh air, and I will be back to normal in no time, she told herself, not liking the depressed bent her thoughts were taking. She'd learned not to allow herself to dwell on her sadness or her circumstances. She may be physically weaker than she had been six months ago, but her mind was as strong, or stronger, than ever before.
Remember, Clarke… Your true power is up here, in your mind, and right here, in your heart. Your mind is your greatest weapon, and your heart is your greatest strength. If you remember that, then no one will ever be able to take your power away from you…
This memory of her father drifted up into her consciousness, making it almost seem as though he was standing in the room with her and speaking the words. She recalled how he had looked into her eyes as he told her this when she was a small child, first tapping between her eyes with two fingers, then pressing the palm of his left hand to her chest, directly over her heart. The warmth of his hand had seemed to fill her up with his love. Sometimes, when she stood still and fought hard to remember him, she felt like she could still feel his hand against her heart, pressing his love and warmth into her soul.
Clarke shook herself free of the memory, dashing away the two small tears that had built in her eyes with the back of her hand. She crossed the room to the clothes that had been laid out for her, pulling the sturdy garments on. They were her own clothes, she was relieved to see, and the familiar feel and smell of them was so comforting that she almost thought she might start crying again. She was a bit disgusted with herself for her sudden displays of emotion, though she was alone in the room and no one could see her. Her nerves were wrecked and shattered, her release from prison and conversation with Bellamy having happened so quickly and been so fraught with buried emotions that she hardly knew how she should be dealing with it.
These are my clothes… My mother must have brought them.
The understanding that her mother was nearby gave her decidedly mixed feelings. She had only been allowed to see her once during her imprisonment, and the meeting had not gone well. Clarke's bitterness and anger had subsided somewhat during the intervening months, but she had not completely forgotten the fact that not only had her mother chosen to stand by and watch her father die, but she had also been the one who told Bellamy of what she planned and sent him after her. She knew Abby had only wanted to protect her. That she hadn't imagined that it would result in her being charged with treason and thrown in the Queen's dungeon, but that didn't change the fact that she shared some responsibility for her father's death.
Fully clothed now, Clarke gathered herself and pushed open the room's door, finding a servant waiting for her on the other side. The man led her down the passage, turning several times, and soon Clarke recognized both where they were and where they were headed. The rooms of the chief healer were nearby, and likely her mother was waiting for her there.
When she stood in front of the door mere moments later, Clarke took a slow, steadying breath, then knocked twice and pushed it open, not waiting for an answer. Abby turned and looked in her direction, healing supplies spread out before her on her table. Clarke's favorite traveling pack was there as well, and it appeared mostly full. Her mother looked to have been in the process of finishing packing it for her.
"Clarke!" Abby breathed, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of her daughter standing before her. Clarke smiled slightly, tears filling her own eyes and her throat closing up with emotion, despite her earlier decision to remain stoic and calm.
"Mom…" she said, her voice thick with tears, and suddenly Abby was there and throwing her arms around her, the two woman hugging and crying into each other's shoulders.
"Clarke… I've been so worried," her mother told her, her own words quivering with combined happiness and relief. "I wanted to come see you… I tried, but the Queen, she wouldn't allow it. I tried!"
"It's okay, mom… I'm okay," she reassured her, pulling back from her embrace to smile sadly at her. The bitterness and anger were still there within her, she knew, but for now Clarke was just happy to be in her arms, to feel her mother's love surround her. She had been alone in the dark for a very long time, with only the guards and her drawings for company. A moment just like this was something she had dreamed about and longed for many times.
"You're thinner," her mother accused, trying to brush the tears away from her eyes so she could study her daughter. "Let me just look at you… I can't believe you are finally here!"
"Neither can I," Clarke admitted, her own tears drying now as she remembered just how much needed to be done before the dawn.
"Bellamy told you? About the peace mission?" she asked.
"Yes, he told me," Abby replied, her face drawing into a look of concern. "But, Clarke, it doesn't make any sense… If anything, Nia has always wanted more conflict with Trigedakru, not less. All these years, I always thought the only thing stopping her from escalating it to true war was the threat of the Mountain."
"I know, it doesn't make sense. I tried to tell Bellamy this, but he didn't want to listen. She must have some other plan, some ulterior motive… It's just too good to be true that she would actually want peace. I don't trust it. I'm afraid this whole mission is a trap of some kind."
"That's not all," her mother told her, and the warning in her tone drew a sharp glance in response.
"What is it? What did she tell you?"
"Nothing, she told me nothing… But I did learn something about the warband she's formed to protect your peace delegation. The Queen called for fifty warriors to travel with the prince, and she specifically ordered that they all be of Skaibona descent. She nearly emptied the Skaibona villages of their warriors to make it happen, but almost every one of the men and women who are going with you are Sky Born."
"What?!" Clarke exclaimed, sucking in a surprised breath. The Queen's dislike and distrust of the Sky Born population within Azgeda was well known by those who knew her best. As soon as the King died and she seized power, it quickly became apparent that Nia had always resented the special status and high standing that many Sky Born enjoyed in Azgeda society.
"Could it be… Do you think she actually wants the mission to fail? For all of us to be killed?" she asked her mother, shocked by the possibility. It seemed incredible that anyone would wish such senseless death and destruction upon their own people, even someone like Queen Nia. But then, she had likely never really viewed the Sky Born as her people, but as an interloping minority. Was this her way of getting rid of Bellamy and the remaining fighters within the Skaibona for good?
"I can't let that happen, mom," Clarke told her, determination filling her. The Sky Born were her people. They had their own history, their own language and traditions. They may be a declining minority within Azgeda, but Clarke would not let them be slaughtered to satisfy Nia's lust for power and dominance.
"Clarke, you must be careful," Abby cautioned, worry for her daughter filling her eyes. "You always want to save everyone else… I know that's who you are, and I love you for it, but promise me you will take care of yourself first? I can't lose you again," she begged.
"I know mom… I'll try to be safe, but I can't let her hurt our people anymore. I won't let her kill us off in order to start the war she's always wanted."
Abby looked resigned at her words, and they both soon turned to finish packing. Dawn was soon approaching, and she needed to be ready to leave when the sun rose. Clarke went through everything her mother had assembled for her, asking a few questions about the medical supplies. They added several items that she wanted, then Clarke and Abby sat down together for a quick meal, knowing as they did so that this would be the last time they shared a meal for a long while. They laughed and talked, her mother watching her with concern as she ate, warning her to ease back into eating larger quantities so that she didn't make herself sick. Clarke wished she had time to sleep some before leaving, but she didn't want to waste any of the precious moments she had left with her mother. Finally, just before the sun was to rise, Clarke got to her feet and slung her pack over her shoulders.
"I love you mom," she told her, hugging her one last time.
"I love you too… And Clarke? About what happened with your father. I hope you know… I hope you know that I loved him very much, and I wanted to save him, I truly did, but I just couldn't risk your life. You understand that, right? I never intended for Bellamy to find you the way he did. If I had known what would happen, I swear I wouldn't have…"
"Mom, it's okay," Clarke said, and to her surprise she found that it was. Life was too short for bitterness and anger. Her mother loved her, and she had also loved her husband. There was no way to go back in time and change what had happened, and Clarke found that after six months of silent rage, she no longer wished to blame her mother for her father's death.
"I understand… I do. We both made difficult choices that day. We both did what we thought was right. Dad would understand that, I think."
With that, Clarke pulled free of her mother's arms with a sad smile on her face. Then, saying goodbye to both her mother and the Ice Queen's stark fortress, she turned and walked out to greet the dawn.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Sometime later, Clarke stood on the outskirts of the field where the warriors had gathered, watching as the sun pierced the horizon and the last of the preparations to leave were made. It was a formidable warband of over fifty warriors, and each man and women was intimidating in their pale leather and furs, their weapons carefully sharpened and bags packed for an extended journey. As this was not a raiding party, but a mission for peace, they had all foregone their white war paint and martial decorations, but it did little to detract from their apparent fierceness. Queen Nia had allowed them the use of a dozen horses, and half of the beasts were now packed with supplies, while the other six were kept unburdened with only light saddles on their backs, ready to carry scouts ahead of the group on their journey. Bellamy had procured three additional horses, one for each of them, and although it hurt her pride, Clarke was relieved that he hadn't expected her to be able to march with the warriors on foot. I would be a little while before she was fully recovered from her time spent in the dungeons, and even riding all day was looking to be a daunting prospect.
This bothered Clarke more than it probably should. She hated being weak, powerless.
Head and heart, Clarke… Head and heart, she reminded herself.
"Octavia," Clarke called in greeting, walking over with her horse to join the younger girl. Octavia was watching the activity with avid excitement, her eyes glowing in the dawn's light.
"Well, look at you… You don't look half bad for a wanted criminal. Are you sure you were really in prison this whole time?" Octavia asked, eyeing her up and down.
"Oh yes, I am sure. It's amazing what a long bath and change of clothes can accomplish," she replied dryly, relieved to see that some things, at least, had not changed much while she was locked up. Octavia was still as outspoken as ever. The girl's hatred for the leaders of Azgeda had given her an almost belligerent attitude towards authority, and she seemed to go out of her way to speak her mind at all times. Usually Clarke found this amusing, but sometimes it could be frustrating to deal with as well. Though she was very smart and determined, in her own way Octavia could be just as bullheaded as her older brother was. Their stubbornness was a family trait, she suspected.
"I was surprised when my brother said you were coming with us… Don't tell me you've already forgiven him?"
Clarke looked at her with surprise at this. Octavia loved her brother, of that she was sure, but she had also always sensed that the girl often chaffed under the tight leash he tried to keep on her. She imagined it must be exhausting to be the focus of his protectiveness all of the time, which perhaps explained the way Octavia was apparently taking her side now.
"No, I haven't," she said simply, not wanting to go into it again. She was emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened to her that night, and the day ahead was just beginning.
"Good," Octavia said slyly, giving her a respectful nod before turning her attention back to the gathering warriors, a small smile on her lips.
A few minutes later, when Bellamy called for the warriors to fall into a column on the narrow dirt road and begin their march out of the city, Clarke and Octavia mounted their horses, both a little clumsily. Clarke, because she was sore, stiff and weak from her time as a prisoner, and Octavia because she had only learned how to ride in the last year and had not been allowed much time to practice. Once they were both in their saddles, they turned their mounts to follow the marching warriors with Bellamy at their head. As they entered the forest and left the city behind them, neither one of the young women turned to look back, united in their strong desire to be far, far away from the Ice Queen's fortress, though each for their own reasons.
They were perhaps a mile from the city when Clarke saw it, a glimpse of something that shone for only a moment through a break in the trees in front of her… A sharp flash of light in the distant sky beyond, a slim tongue of fire hurtling down from the heavens above. It fell to earth in a magnificent ark, as though it had been thrown by the careless hand of a god. She frowned, raising her arm to block out the rising sunlight, following the strange sight with her eyes until it disappeared behind the mountains and trees. Clarke glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed what she had seen. To her surprise, no one seemed to be looking, each person more concerned with putting one foot in front of the other on the rough-hewn path. Octavia, however, caught her searching glances and looked at her questioningly.
"What is it?" she asked, peering up in the direction Clarke was still looking.
"Nothing, I just thought I saw… Never mind. It was nothing."
They continued on their journey, an Azgeda warband whose purpose was not war, but peace, the lilt of conversation among the Skaibona warriors shifting easily between two different languages, their light-hearted laughter occasionally floating up along the pleasant springtime breeze. Clarke followed quietly, sometimes listening to Octavia, sometimes simply closing her eyes to better enjoy the almost forgotten sensation of sunshine on her upturned face.
Whenever she opened her eyes, however, their blue orbs always rose to watch the sky beyond, though what it was she was searching for, Clarke couldn't say.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Nia, Queen of the Ice Nation, watched the prince and his warriors depart the city from the large window of her audience hall in the fortress, her cold gaze focused on the distant figures for several minutes as she thought over her plans.
"Ai Haiplana," a deep voice said respectfully from behind her, "You summoned me?"
Her mouth twisted down in distaste and annoyance at the interruption to her thoughts. She turned, facing the robed man who stood waiting for her to acknowledge him.
"Priest," she said, and he lifted his shaven head to meet her eyes. She regarded him coldly, unnerved by her inability to read the strange man. He seemed to be unflappable and completely at ease no matter what she did, and her inability to make him fear her had long been a thorn in her side.
"Tell me again, Titus, why it is I must send a peace delegation to meet with Trikru? What possible advantage could this give me, or the goddess you serve?"
"I have told you what she wills, ai Haiplana. It is not my place to question why the goddess does anything."
Nia sneered at his non-answer, frustrated as ever by his evasiveness. Not for the first time, she wondered why she had allowed herself to be allied to such an odd creature as he, as well as the red goddess of light he served.
"It may not be your place as far as the goddess is concerned, but it is most certainly your place to question her if you wish to continue to serve me. Who do you truly serve, Titus, your goddess or your queen?"
"To serve you is to serve all of Azgeda… Just the same, to serve the goddess is to serve all of mankind. By serving in the name of her light, I also serve you, ai Haiplana."
"Are you a priest or a poet?" she growled, growing weary of this conversation already. "Never mind, it does not matter… I have sent the delegation with her instructions, just as she wished. Now, explain to me how this will give me the Mountain."
"The Mountain is not yours to have, but hers," Titus insisted, his eyes on fire with his zealotry, "It is the lands of Trigeda which are to be yours once the Mountain has fallen."
"Very well. If she wishes Mount Weather to be hers, then why isn't she here to take it? Why is it only you who is allowed to speak with the goddess, Titus? Have I not done everything else she has ever asked? I subdued the great northern wastes... I defeated Sankru, just as she commanded. You told me that this would free her… That once she was free to spread across the land, she would give me untold power, but she is still not here!"
The Queen glared at him, her angry words ringing emphatically off the high ceilings above. There was a note of frustrated betrayal in her voice, and the priest sensed that he must tread carefully to regain her trust and support.
"The work of the goddess is never easy, ai Haiplana, but I beg you not to lose faith. When you completed your pilgrimage all those years ago and came to the City of Light, did the goddess not greet you there? Do you not remember her wonder and power? She has come to save all of humanity, but the way must be made ready for her… Soon she will spread across all the land, it is true. The people will be saved from their suffering, and you shall be rewarded for your work on her behalf. Once we have taken the Mountain, she will finally have what she needs, and the City of Light will rise. Have faith, ai Haiplana."
She turned her head away from him sharply, eyes searching out the horizon once more. The older she became, the more distant her youth seemed. Her visit to the City of Light and her conversations with the red goddess that lived there now seemed almost like something from a dream. It had been many years, and it was difficult sometimes to hold on to her faith, but the priest was right.
She must trust in the goddess.
The Ice Queen beckoned for him to join her and Titus stepped out onto the balcony, his robes swirling around him as he stood by her side, looking out over the might of the Ice Nation.
"Tell me what must be done to give her the Mountain."
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Author's Note:
Yes, the Sky Born are descendants from the Ark. As you may or may not recall, a certain "Sydney Station" incident has been referred to several times in previous chapters, though only in passing. This was intentional and significant. I have always been fascinated by the idea that just one person's decision in a pivotal moment in history can shape great things, such as when the U.S. President decided to drop nukes on Japan in the hopes of ending WWII. In this story, that pivotal decision is made by the Ark's first Chancellor. Rather than blow Polaris from the sky, in this alternate reality he chose instead to convince them to join by making certain political concessions, i.e. the Special Amendment to the Ark's Charter which granted Polaris more autonomy. This was one man's decision, and this fic is all about exploring what that changed decision could have meant. Of course, I imagine that the first ten to twenty years on the Ark were quite contentious… A bunch of different stations of different nationalities all required to band together and adhere to the same harsh rules? In this timeline, without the motivating example of watching Polaris being destroyed, at or around the fifteen to twenty year mark, a large group of people from one station banded together and rebelled, stealing a dropship to take to the surface. They were probably mostly younger people, and there would have been first generation Ark born kids among them who had been genetically modified to handle increased radiation. Likely many of them died when they landed, but enough survived to form their own small villages, and eventually they merged with other tribes of grounders, helping to form what we now know of as the Ice Nation.
If you are asking yourself, "Wow, did she really name the rebellious station Sydney so that she could make it the Australian station, and therefore give the Sky Born people on the ground a faint, but noticeable, Australian accent?"
Yes… Yes I did.
I hope that clears some things up, lol.
-FlyUpInSky