Happy Update Day everyone!
Re: the new episode, Raven absolutely slayed! (Or, rather, her actress I suppose) but wow! Wow! WOW! What a great episode for her! Thank you episode for confirming everything I know about Bellamy: he loves to be second-in-command and he is emotionally driven to the point of being a bullheaded idiot. And then there's Monty. Why won't anyone hug him? Someone hug Monty PLEASE! Hashtag no more dead moms.
Back to this story—I got a sense that people were confused/upset about Bellamy being into dudes and girls? Which made me realize that y'all don't live in my head and as such you don't know the rules I'm playing by, woops! (My rule is always bi until proven otherwise)
So, since the Arc is a survivalist society that has been living in a flying tin can for generations (for this story I'm hand waving the actual time, but it's been longer than 100 years), the creators of the show have also said that the society no longer has issues of things like racism, sexism or love. Because there's a lot of other things to worry about than stupid things like that.
I took this to mean that the Arc is also past any sort of sexuality issue. Sexuality isn't an issue at all, so they no longer have any term for it, but you can consider everyone from the Arc to be bi/pansexual (google those terms if you don't know them! Lots of great info out there!) If you want more solid proof, the creator of the show has also tweeted somewhere, and you can find it if you dig a little, that the Arc Society doesn't care about the gender of who you love, ie everyone from the Arc has the potential/is open to dating someone of any gender. Which is really cool!
The show has been disappointingly hetero-centric still, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
But as for this story, I wanted to make a point that the Arc has no issues with sexuality! Or gender roles/conformity/etc. Which is gonna come up a bit as well! So don't expect strictly heterosexual relationships for characters who haven't yet been 'revealed' as non-hetero in the show (so… everyone but Clarke, Monroe and Miller).
Big thank-you's to everyone who left a review! Y'all rock my socks.
"Bellamy, Bellamy wake up."
A gentle hand was shaking his shoulder, and for a moment he thought it was his mother.
"Five mor—" he cut himself off, realizing that there was no way it could be her.
He blinked his eyes open, looking around. He was in the sick hut, and it was dark. Very dark. The main fire used to heat the place was just hot coals, a fresh log had just been added but it hadn't quite caught yet, and the candles around were worn down. Abby was smiling at him, though she looked pale with exhaustion.
"I'm awake," he mumbled, "what's wrong?" His heart lurched in his chest, "is it Octavia?" He snapped his gaze down to his sister's sleeping face. He'd fallen asleep holding her hand. If anything had happened he should have noticed?
Octavia was sickly pale still, though she no longer looked—Bellamy resisted the urge to think corpse—lifeless. She'd been grey earlier, and it was difficult to tell in the low light but she might be getting some color back in her cheeks.
"She's fine," Abby assured him, "in fact, I think it's safe to say she's on the mend."
Relief flooded over Bellamy and he sagged back in his chair. His back and neck, in fact every inch of his body protested the movement, but in that moment he could have cried. Octavia was going to be okay. She was going to live. He wasn't going to be alone.
"That's good," Bellamy managed to get out. He blinked a few times, and wiped his eyes to compose himself, "okay, what do you want?"
Abby gave him a stern look that she probably used to scold Clarke, "You need to go to bed. I sent Clarke off a while ago. I let you stay a little later, because of your sister, but if this is your first night living together, then you shouldn't keep your… fiancés waiting."
Bellamy's stomach dropped. The last thing he wanted was to show up in time to share a bed with his betrothed.
"Okay," he said grimly, "but if anything happens to my sister—"
"I'll let you know," Abby agreed, "but I am going to get a bit of rest myself, so Jackson will be on watch."
"Can I trust you to get me? Or are you going to try and be merciful again?" Bellamy pressed. He hadn't forgotten that just earlier today Abby had tried to distract him in case his sister really was dying.
Abby, to her credit, looked humble about it, "I'm sorry. I made a quick judgement. I thought she might be holding on for you, and that it was better at the time to let her go then to let her keep struggling for nothing. And for you… I know what it's like to watch people you love die."
"I'm from the Arc," Bellamy reminded her, "that was a common occurrence." He was a child of the Arc, and a survivor of the ground. He'd seen enough death; one more wasn't going to ruin him. Except that he knew Octavia's death would destroy him.
"If there's anything, you'll know," Abby assured him, "now go, you look exhausted and there's a long day tomorrow." She left him to finish checking on people, or whatever it was that doctors could do in the dark when they could barely see anything.
Bellamy brushed Octavia's greasy hair out of her face. He wanted to wash it, so she didn't wake up completely filthy, but it was almost impossible until she woke up. Besides, he really didn't have the time. He'd spent all of today by his sisters side just in case, but now that she was getting better he needed to be out getting the camp ready to leave. Hopefully Clarke had done something useful in between coming to help her mother out.
"Sleep well, O," he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. She was losing a lot of weight now, and her wrist was as thin as when she'd been a little girl. It made Bellamy's chest ache with worry. She needed to wake up soon so she could eat something.
He made sure she was tucked in against the chill. The blankets reeked of sweat and bile, but there wasn't time to wash them or even spare blankets to use. Octavia was going to be so upset when she woke up, Bellamy smiled at that. She would demand a shower immediately, and possibly burn her clothes. He'd get to tease her for being more disgusting than that time he'd sunk up to his knees in filth when they'd had the great idea of expanding the latrines instead of just digging new ones.
She'd be upset for a whole variety of other reasons. Bellamy's mood fell as soon as he stepped outside. It was freezing, and he bit back a curse of surprise.
There was a grounder woman waiting there. She was thin, with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes. She had shaggy dark hair, and reminded him a lot of Anya.
"What are you doing?" he demanded. Why was a grounder lurking around their sick?
She pushed herself off of the sick hut and stood defiantly in front of him. She was at least a head taller than him, possibly even taller than Lincoln, "You're Wangona?"
That was something that Lexa had said at the engagement ceremony. Apparently it was a name? Or a title?
"Maybe," Bellamy said. She looked frustrated and huffed out a stream of hot breath into the cold air.
"I'm to guard Wangona," she said.
"Says who?" Bellamy asked.
"Heda," she said.
"I don't need a guard," Bellamy said.
She narrowed her eyes at him and didn't speak, but the disapproval translated clearly.
"My sister is sick," Bellamy said, absolving himself of any guilt she might be trying to put onto him for spending the day inside.
There wasn't anything he needed from home since he'd slip out early to change into a fresh shirt in the morning, so he headed directly for the grounder camp. His new guard followed close behind. Bellamy could sense that she was scowling the whole way.
The gates for Camp Jaha were open, and the shift guards said that Chancellor Griffin had ordered the earlier shift to keep them open. Another brilliant move from Clarke Griffin: just leave their only defenses wide open when the enemy was literally at the gates.
His frustration kept him warm, well, it helped him try to ignore the cold at least. He kept his hands shoved into his armpits and his chin tucked to his chest and struggled not to shiver too much. Huxley, one of the guards on shift, offered to come with him. His finger hovered too close to his trigger the whole time, just in the presence of one grounder. Bellamy told him not to bother. He couldn't risk someone getting spooked and shooting a grounder on their doorstep. They weren't looking to start another war.
"Guns," his guard muttered distastefully as they left the camp.
"They're better than swords," Bellamy snapped.
"You didn't need them in the mountain," she said, "you killed with your hands. Like a true warrior."
She sounded a little in awe and it caught Bellamy off guard.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I was in the mountain, when you escaped. I witnessed your kill," her eyes glittered in the dark, and she actually smiled, though it was as sharp as a knife. Bellamy swallowed the guilt of Lovejoy's murder. It hadn't been so much of a kill as it was dumb luck and Echo stepping in to help. He'd been so drained of blood at the time that he'd barely had enough strength to keep his hands on Lovejoy's throat. Apparently rumors of that kill had been greatly exaggerated.
"My name is Tara," she offered.
"Right," Bellamy nodded, "well, get used to having guns around."
Halfway between the camps they were met by two grounders carrying torches. They had hands on their swords. The late hour didn't seem to be affecting them, though Bellamy was pretty sure they looked grumpier than the average grounder. Then again it was hard to tell what they were feeling because the only parts of their faces showing were their eyes.
"I'm going to see Lexa," Bellamy explained. He couldn't even tell if they were male or female. All grounders seemed to be tall, dark and muscled.
The two of them talked quickly in their language. Bellamy should have been paying more attention when Lincoln was teaching him and Octavia, but she had a much better ear for the language and a head start on him, so he usually got frustrated and quit during their lessons. Nevertheless he knew they were talking about him, and possibly that it was disgraceful for him to be coming in at such an hour. Bellamy had never thought grounders were also gossipers.
"I spent all day with my sister," Bellamy elaborated, "she's been really sick, but the medicine means she's going to survive. Now I'm tired and cold and I don't want to wander through your camp, so if you don't mind I want to get going," he turned to Tara, "can you show me where Lexa is?"
Tara shrugged, "I'm a guard, not a guide."
Bellamy sighed and turned back to the guards gossiping about him, "Look, take me to Lexa. Now. That's an order."
That at least spurred them into action. Bellamy headed into the depths of the grounder camp with his two guides and his useless guard trailing behind. He couldn't retrace the exact route they took, but by the time they approached Lexa's tent he didn't need them anymore. The two grounders standing guard outside made it a dead giveaway.
It wasn't the tent he'd gone to negotiate with her in, which kind of made sense. He wouldn't want to sleep where he took audience either. But Lexa's personal tent was a lot smaller, which just increased Bellamy's unhappiness with the entire situation. At least when he'd pictured the big tent he'd been able to put a lot of distance between him and the girls just by sleeping on the floor. On a night like tonight he might just freeze to death doing that, but death would be preferable to having to sleep beside Lexa.
Bellamy had to show his choker to the guards at the door before he was allowed in, since Tara wouldn't vouch for him. Part of him wished he'd thought to bring an actual weapon with him, since they checked him anyways. They were probably laughing at the idea of the naive Space Boy who wandered around earth without a way to defend himself. Bellamy wasn't too good with swords or knives, he preferred guns. Unfortunately guns were under strict regulations and only for the guard or for scouting parties.
The candles inside had almost burned down to the wick, and as such weren't giving off a lot of light. There was just enough to see Clarke was passed out on the floor, curled in a ball and shivering so hard she looked like she might be in pain.
"What the?" Bellamy moved to kneel beside her before he could stop to think. He got one hand on her shoulder to roll her onto her back. She was pale, and her lips looked colorless in the candlelight. They might even be blue.
"Clarke! Clarke, wake up," Bellamy shook her.
"Shh," Clarke stuttered. She blinked awake, though it was immediately obvious she was not sober in the slightest. Clarke pointed a shaking hand behind Bellamy, "can't let them hear."
"Clarke you're freezing," Bellamy whispered, "what the hell are you doing?"
"Sleeping," Clarke muttered, and her voice trailed off. Her head lolled back and she was asleep again. At least, Bellamy hoped she was just sleeping.
Not for much longer at least. He had no idea how long she'd been laying here.
"This is just great," Bellamy said to himself. He stood up to pull back the furs on the bed. Clarke needed to warm up quickly or this was going to get serious really fast. The cold air startled Lexa—who was just sleeping while Clarke froze to death—awake. Good, Bellamy figured, she deserved it.
She nearly leapt out of the furs in alarm, but stopped when she realized what had woken her up.
"What are you doing?" she asked, and rubbed at her eyes. Bellamy looked away quickly, was she naked? Did she honestly think they'd all just share a bed with her in the buff? No wonder Clarke had tried sleeping on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Bellamy snapped, "help me get her up."
For all that Clarke was shorter than him, she was not easy to pick up. Especially when she was doing her best impression of useless baggage.
Lexa peered over the edge of the bed at Clarke, "Why is she there?" and realization dawned in her face, "she's so stupid! I told her she'd freeze! Get her in the bed!"
Bellamy wanted to point out that he'd just told Lexa to help him do just that, but Lexa had the same dozy look on her face that meant she was drunk too. Great, he'd been forced to marry a bunch of lushes.
On his own Bellamy was able to push Clarke up onto the bed, and then Lexa decided she could help pull and roll Clarke into the middle.
"Take off your clothes," Lexa ordered. She was pulling Clarke up to strip her of her jacket. Bellamy realized with some relief that Lexa was wearing clothes, but it was tan enough to match her skin tone exactly in the candlelight.
"What?" Bellamy replied a lot louder than he intended to. It occurred to him then that the whole time they had been talking near-silently. The last thing they needed was for anyone to check in on them and find out that one of the fiancés had almost frozen to death because she'd rather die then share a bed.
"She needs heat, and the less layers between us the better," Lexa instructed. Bellamy wasn't a doctor, and he really didn't understand people freezing in the cold. It didn't make a lot of sense to him, since bodies naturally produced heat anyways, right? The closest he'd ever seen was the people who'd been floated, but they died of multiple things at once, not just a loss of heat.
Lexa noticed him stalling, "Hurry!"
Bellamy followed Lexa's lead and left an undershirt on, and he decided he wasn't comfortable taking his pants off. Thankfully both he and Lexa silently agreed that, while they were taking off most of Clarke's layers, they weren't going all the way, though he wasn't able to stop Lexa before she pulled off Clarke's last shirt and left her in just her bra. This was all for good intentions, he reminded himself, no matter how gross he felt. He was going to have to stay awake though, he realized, because if Clarke wasn't getting any better then they might have to move to skin-to-skin contact. That, or take Clarke to the Arc. Bellamy really wanted to avoid having to explain to Abby why her daughter was hypothermic.
And while he rarely turned down the opportunity for skin-to-skin contact, in other scenarios, Clarke was someone he'd never really thought about having sex with. Sure she was pretty enough, but there was a wicked mind behind her blue eyes and she'd made it very clear from the start that she was going to keep him at an arm's length. Bellamy knew what she was capable of, and what she'd done, and knowing all that made him realize he just wasn't attracted to her.
Or Lexa, for that matter, but that was a lot less complicated. Lexa was a monster, and while her face was nice enough to look at, all the evil behind what she'd done to them made her the ugliest creature Bellamy had ever laid eyes on.
"What the hell did you do?" Bellamy hissed at Lexa over Clarke's head. He could feel her hand against his ribs where she was wrapped around Clarke, trying to share as much body heat as possible. He was mirroring the same position. Clarke was the most uncomfortably cold creature Bellamy had ever been forced to spoon in his entire life. Thankfully she was facing Lexa, so the grounder got to deal with Clarke's awful wine breath. Bellamy had to deal with all of her hair though. There was so much of it.
"I did nothing," she replied, "I told her to come to bed but she insisted on sleeping in the chair."
"So you just left her?"
Lexa looked away, and for a moment Bellamy wondered if she might actually look hurt, "She made it clear what she wanted. Clarke hates me, and I don't want to give her any more reason to."
"Yeah it's hard to see how she could hate you more," Bellamy snapped. He focused on rubbing Clarke's stomach and tried to convince himself it wasn't as creepy as it felt.
Lexa didn't have anything else to say. She ducked under the furs and Bellamy watched the lump of her move down to rub at Clarke's legs and feet. At one point Lexa accidentally grabbed Bellamy's ankle and he nearly kicked her on reflex. They made a terrible team, and Bellamy felt strangely pleased about that.
Thankfully Clarke stopped shivering soon enough. She was chilled right through, but she was starting to warm up. Especially with all of the furs piled on top of them, and Lexa and Bellamy pressed against her. Bellamy had been told by many people that he was like a human furnace, and once again he was grateful of this small superpower.
Lexa nodded off after they were no longer scared that Clarke was in danger of dying. Bellamy shifted a bit on his hip to get comfortable and her eyes shot open again. The last of the candles were dying, so he could only make out the gleam of her eyes in the darkness. There wasn't a lot of places to look—either up and away, and strain his neck, or he could look down and end up with a face full of Clarke's hair. He chose to stare Lexa down instead, and they stayed like that until the last candle went out. After that it was pitch black in the tent. Lexa's grip on Clarke didn't change, so he couldn't be sure if she fell asleep, but the atmosphere in the tent seemed to calm marginally. Hopefully the monster was resting.
Clarke slept on, blissfully unaware of the tension on either side of her. At least he had Clarke as a buffer. It made being in Lexa's bed only marginally more bearable.
"Thanks a lot," he muttered in Clarke's ear, "I was really hoping this would be a calm night."
At some point Bellamy actually did fall asleep. He hadn't slept more than a few hours all week, and now with a soft, warm bed he dropped into what could arguably be called a coma. Someone was moving beside him, which only marginally disturbed him but he was going to keep sleeping because he was just so warm, and then there was an elbow in his ribs and he was getting trampled and thrown out of the bed.
Bellamy hit the ground, shouting, as Clarke fell on top of him.
"What are you doing?" he shouted. His head was pounding, leftover from his concussion a week ago, and the morning air was a cold shock to his system that immediately put him in a bad mood. Clarke looked like she was panicking. She was breathing fast and couldn't get her feet under her. Just before Bellamy could sit up to ask if she was alright she grabbed a brass bowl off of the table and vomited into it.
"Gross," he muttered. That explained the rude wake up. The tent flapped open with a blast of colder air as the two guards outside rushed in.
"Leave," Lexa ordered immediately, "we're fine."
Bellamy didn't pay them any more attention. He started picking up his clothes from where he'd dropped them on the floor last night. They were cold and he should have brought them into the bed with him to keep them warm, but the layers were already starting to help against the chill.
By the time Clarke pulled her head out of the bowl her eyes were glossy with tears and she looked pale.
"Wh—what happened?" she started shaking and glanced nervously between him and Lexa, "last night? Where are my clothes? Why was I in the—in there? What did you do?"
"Here," Bellamy tossed one of Clarke's sweaters at her, "put this on before you freeze again."
Clarke flinched when the sweater hit her, but just starred at it.
"Are you still drunk?" Bellamy demanded.
"Why did you take my clothes off?" Clarke's voice was weak and she was still looking around with a dazed expression. She looked like she might cry.
"We had to warm you up," Lexa explained. She slid out of the bed seemingly unfazed by the cold, "you might have frozen to death otherwise. Or gotten very sick."
"And your mom was on duty. I really didn't want to take you in," Bellamy said.
Clarke nodded mutely. She started reached for her sweater, but instead got sick in the bowl again.
"So thanks for making it a very memorable night," Bellamy said.
Lexa spoke up before Clarke could reply, "What needs to be done for your people to travel? If we do not leave before noon we will have to wait for tomorrow."
Bellamy found one of his boots under the bed, "I think we're ready. Just have to give the word."
"No," Clarke croaked, shaking her head, "we're not. We had to get everyone to repack yesterday, and the carts have to be reloaded. We need another day."
Lexa barred her teeth and growled as she finished getting dressed, "Ineffective! Your people are useless with their own survival."
She was ranting to herself, but Bellamy couldn't stand to let her cut down his people in any way.
"They don't know better," he snapped, "we never had to migrate anywhere on the Arc. We'll be ready for tomorrow."
"See to it," Lexa replied, dismissively as if she was talking to an errand boy or a janitor, "we can't afford to waste another day."
"Fine," Bellamy muttered. Clarke was still sitting on the ground clutching the bowl, still sitting in her underwear.
"Are you coming?" Bellamy asked. He purposely avoided looking at her, to give her a little bit of privacy at least.
She spooked back to attention, "Yeah, yeah, um, I have to get dressed. I'm coming."
"Would you like to eat first?" Lexa asked, "you need to keep your strength."
Bellamy didn't want to touch anything from Lexa, even if she probably had more food than they did. Thankfully Clarke answered for him.
"No," she groaned sickly, pulling her sweater on, "I can't eat."
"Leave the bowl on the table," Lexa said, finishing dressing by strapping her armor on. She had a thick black cloak lined with gray fur to go on top of everything that made her look like she was twice as big as she actually was. It looked incredibly warm and for a moment Bellamy was a little jealous, "I will see you both tonight, if not earlier."
The daylight was blinding as Lexa swept out of the tent. Bellamy blinked to clear the sunspots out of his eyes.
"About, um, last night," Clarke started slowly. She'd gotten her pants on so Bellamy didn't feel bad looking at her now.
"What were you thinking?" Bellamy demanded. Now that Lexa wasn't around to see them at each others' throats he could be as angry with her as he wanted, "you could have died! Do you understand how stupid you were being?"
Clarke snapped her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth. She glowered at him, which was impressive considering how pathetically hungover she looked, "I was going to say thank you," she finally said.
"Don't," Bellamy replied, "I have to keep you alive for this alliance to work. It was nothing personal." He was being absolutely petty, but the depths of her stupidity were honestly shocking. Anyone else and he would have stopped talking to them altogether. He expected so much more from Clarke.
Bellamy couldn't stand to be in the same room as her anymore, and stormed outside to take in some cool air. His layers did little against the shock of the cold, but he stopped short when he looked around in awe.
There was white stuff—snow, he remembered from his Earth Skills classes—there was snow everywhere. It coated everything in a thin layer. It crunched weirdly under his boots. Almost like mud, but where he expected it to dissipate because it was so light and fluffy, he could feel it being compressed into forms under his feet. The whole earth looked transformed into a whole new world. The camp was mostly undisturbed, with only a few tracks where people had been wandering in the early hours. It had to be really early then, if Lexa's camp wasn't active. The sky was light gray and hung even closer than before, and Bellamy thought distinctly that the clouds looked like they were coming in to smother them all.
All of the colors of the fabrics and furs making up the tents, the clothes on the people and even their skin and the mud or kohl on their skin seemed vibrant against the dull white background. Bellamy had to squint to look around, even with the lack of sun in the sky.
Clarke stumbled out a moment behind him, "Wait for—" she trailed off mid-sentence as she took in the snowy scenery.
They'd seen snowfall from the Arc—at least they'd seen whole swaths of continents turn white at certain points in the year. Bellamy had seen a few photos of snow, and knew enough about it: it was frozen water— but it felt entirely different to see it in person. Like everything on earth, it was startlingly beautiful but that probably meant it was deadly. Bellamy tried to recall how cold it had to be to form snow in the region they were in, and reasoned that it had to be really cold. Last night had been the coldest night of his life, so he could believe that. If he remembered Earth Skills classes correctly, it was only going to get colder. If that was even possible.
The cold was settling into his skin again, and Bellamy shoved his hands into his armpits to keep them from shaking. Already the sensation of being warm felt like a distant memory. Bellamy couldn't remember how long winter lasted in this region—it was different for different places on earth, apparently. All he could remember was that there were places on earth that winter never ended and the sun didn't rise for months. It felt like that was going to happen to them.
Octavia had been excited for the snowfall. Lincoln had told them stories about all the things children could do with snow—like build men or throw it at one another, and how you could slide down a slippery hill. He'd promised to show her a waterfall that froze completely and you could climb up it.
Bellamy took off towards the sick hut. Octavia had to be awake by now. The snow crunched behind him as Clarke followed close behind him, and two grounders—Tara and a burly man Bellamy thought he might recognize from the cages in Mt Weather—followed them. The man must be Clarke's guard.
Clarke was hovering too close to be casual, which meant she probably wanted something. He stopped on the edge of Lexa's camp, keeping one tent between them and the sightlines of the Camp Jaha gate guards.
"What do you want?"
Clarke raised her chin up, scowling, as if she was going to intimidate him, "I told you not to touch me," she said.
Bellamy recalled their agreement yesterday before Lexa had arrived, "Are you serious? Clarke you were going to freeze! Would you have rather I left you to die?"
"How do you think I feel waking up half-naked with you and, and her on top of me?" Clarke snapped.
"We already told you: nothing happened, get over it," Bellamy growled. Clarke seemed to have a knack for blowing things out of proportion—starting with the bracelets the original 100 kids had been sent down with. It had been life or death about those, and now it was life or death over something that didn't need worrying about.
"'We'?" Clarke echoed, "oh, there's a 'we' now? I should have known you and Lexa would get along if you were taking advantage of me!"
"Back off," Bellamy stepped right into her space, forcing Clarke to flinch back. This was classic intimidation training from his time as a cadet, and as simple as it was, civilians bought into it all the time, "I didn't do anything except save your life. Don't you dare try to turn this on me. You were the one who got totally cometted and passed out on the floor, not me. And if it's going to be this much of an issue, next time I'll just leave you where I find you, Princess."
He sneered the old insult as he brushed past her, knocking her with his shoulder—another simple technique— and headed for home. It was a low blow, and he hadn't used that insult on Clarke for months now, but she was really getting on his nerves. She had to make everything about her! How did she think he felt having to spend his night making sure she stayed alive? He could hear Tara following behind him and realized he'd have to make sure she didn't talk to anyone about that fight. Great, now with people watching them constantly it was going to be even harder to keep up this marriage charade.
The snow was white as far as the eye could see on the open expanse where they'd cut the forest back. The river looked dark, gray and sluggish as it wound it's way down behind Camp Jaha. It hurt to look at too long, and Bellamy tucked his chin to his chest as he walked back to camp. It was too cold to be outside for long without his hand-wraps or a hat. Even his nose felt frozen.
It was hard to gauge what time it actually was, with the sun hidden behind the clouds and the world lit in the dim, gray winter lighting. The guards on shift at the gate were helpful in that regard. Bellamy was early enough that breakfast was still being made. He debated going to get a few more hours of sleep before the camp actually woke up, but that would be a few more hours wasted.
He charmed one of the women working the mess hall shift into giving him half a protein bar. Everyone was on light rations right now, and so half a bar was at least two days' worth. But Octavia was going to need all of the food she could get in order to regain her strength.
Tara frowned loudly as Bellamy headed for the sick hut. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but her disapproval was impossible to ignore. She stopped outside the door and took up her post, casually leaning against the wall and waited for him to come back out.
The sick hut was abnormally quiet. Even then, it was still full of sounds. People were snoring, coughing or wheezing as they breathed. The bedding creaked and rustled as patients turned in their beds. The fires that heated the hut were burning low, and before he did anything Bellamy grabbed some more wood to feed the flames before the chill could settle into the hut. Abby had fallen asleep draped over a bed with a sick child in it. She had probably been working late into the night, despite her saying that she was going to have Jackson take over for her. Bellamy felt a flash of guilt that he'd gone to sleep in a warm bed while she stayed up all night working. He would have much rather been here to help than deal with Clarke and Lexa. Bellamy made his way over to his sister, careful not to make too much sound to wake anyone up.
Octavia was still asleep. She was pale, and boneless like she might never get up out of bed again. Her nose felt cold from exposure, but her forehead was cool to the touch. Bellamy let out a long sigh of relief. She was getting better. The fever had broken.
Abby groaned as she sat up. She rubbed a hand down her face miserably, slapping lightly at her cheeks to wake up.
"How long was I out?" she asked him, and glanced around, "you're early."
"Couldn't sleep," Bellamy whispered.
"How is she?" Abby stood up slowly, stretching out her sore arms and back.
"Better? I think?" Bellamy replied, "her fever is gone. Will she wake up?"
Abby made her way over and felt Octavia's forehead, and her throat. She pulled back the blankets—they smelled awful, a weeks worth of fever sweat, bile, and other things Bellamy didn't want to think about—to feel under Octavia's arm, and then listened to her breathing.
"She's got pneumonia," Abby said, "but that's mostly a side-effect of the illness. Her swelling has gone down, I think. It's still there, but not as inflamed as it was before. This is all good. She won't be able to do solid foods for a while, though, once she wakes up. And it'll still take some time before she'll be back to her old self."
Bellamy let out a shaky breath. He felt like he might collapse in relief, "But she's going to be okay?"
Abby smiled at him, "There's a long way to go, but I think the worst is over."
Lincoln was inspecting the packed wagons when Bellamy found him. There were more things gathered around the wagons, now under a layer of snow, than there were loaded up. There was a post, he noticed, stomped into the ground with a list of items allowed on the wagons. What the hell had Clarke been doing yesterday? The camp was an absolute mess.
"Octavia's better," Bellamy said in lieu of a greeting, "Abby says the worst is over."
"Has she woken up?" Lincoln asked quickly.
Bellamy shook his head, "Abby says she's really tired. And she'll be bedridden for a while yet."
"She'll hate that," Lincoln remarked. Bellamy couldn't help but smile.
He and Lincoln didn't always see eye-to-eye with one another, and they'd never really spoken about the fact that Bellamy had tortured him when they'd first met, or how Lincoln had abandoned him in Mt Weather. They understood one another, and Bellamy could respect the skills and knowledge that Lincoln provided. But Lincoln's single best trait, in Bellamy's opinion, was that he loved Octavia almost as much as Bellamy did. He'd proven time and time again that he would protect her and keep her safe, and he never once looked at her and saw 'the girl who lived under the floor' or a sibling in the way that people from the Arc hissed that word.
"Where do you think we're at for packing up?" Bellamy changed topics.
Lincoln glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot, "This is embarrassing," he admitted, "I've seen clans as large as yours, and larger, packed up and ready to move in one morning."
Tara huffed a laugh from her position a few feet behind Bellamy. Bellamy resisted the urge to tell her to go float herself.
"This is the first time we've ever done a huge migration that wasn't just falling out of the sky," Bellamy reminded him.
Lincoln shrugged, "You are sentimental over things that have no use. It slows you down."
"It's all we've ever known," Bellamy didn't like having to defend his people being bad at something, especially when he agreed with Lincoln. He'd managed to pack his and Octavia's things up fairly quickly. But then again they'd never had much. It was probably all of the Elite who had a bunch of stuff they thought they couldn't live without, "besides," he added in a poor attempt to justify his reasons, "your people are used to this. If we ever have to move again we'll do a lot better."
Lincoln tipped his head with a smug look on his face—which meant that he was on the verge of smiling—and went to inspect the list on the post Bellamy had seen earlier.
"You'll need to pack tighter than you expected, if you're going to make room for the sick and the injured. Not to mention the elderly and the young will need to have some room to be carried," Lincoln remarked.
Bellamy sighed, "How do your people do it? Move all the time?"
Lincoln shook his head, "In Trikru you are useful, or you are not. Usually only warriors are nomadic, and elders will often retire to towns or villages to help raise children," he paused a moment, "elderly warriors don't really exist."
"Well," Bellamy shrugged, "I think a few of our older folks actually want to stay here."
"They will die," Lincoln agreed.
"We're not leaving them," Bellamy groaned, "okay, do you have anything to offer in terms of packing? Is there a special way to do it on earth?"
Lincoln furrowed his brow at Bellamy.
"On the Arc, if we had to move something really big, we'd move it outside, like, in space where there's no gravity. I've never dealt with anything heavier than what I can physically carry," Bellamy explained.
"Floating," Lincoln said it like it was a fairytale, "you just floated everything around."
Every so often Bellamy was reminded that while the people from the Arc and the Grounders could all speak a common english, the languages had still varied on slang terms. They'd figured that out when Lincoln had been telling Octavia and Bellamy about how, as children, he and his friends floated down a stream for hours. It resulted in a lot of confusion and Octavia being sorry for the loss of Lincoln's friends before they realized the communication error.
The memory of Octavia's sad eyes brought another uncomfortable truth to Bellamy's attention, "Lincoln," he said seriously, quietly, because Tara was nearby, and Lincoln looked up at the tone in his voice, "you can't tell her. About this," he gestured to the red collar around his neck, "she can never know. Ever."
"I already made my promise," Lincoln reminded him, "I will honor my word."
"If Octavia asks you have to lie," Bellamy demanded, "and, god, she's going to ask. We might have Abby and Monty and the others fooled, but Octavia won't believe it."
"Maybe you should go on an adventure," Lincoln offered, "before she wakes up completely. You can have the excuse of falling in love through trial and combat."
Bellamy gestured around them, "Do you seriously think I can leave right now?"
The corners of Lincoln's mouth twitched upwards and for a brief second he was genuinely laughing at Bellamy.
"You think this is funny?" Bellamy had the sudden need to break something, and he restrained from kicking any of the bundles of belongings scattered around them.
"I think your people put too much emphasis on what you consider 'love'," Lincoln replied cooly, "but if you are worried about Octavia, know that her concern will be because she loves you."
"What do you consider love then?" Bellamy asked.
Lincoln folded his arms across his chest. He'd never been the most forward with his emotions, which was something Bellamy admired about him, since Bellamy often followed his heart rather than his head. For a moment Bellamy thought Lincoln might actually brush off his question, as he often did when he didn't want to answer something. Maybe Grounders didn't have a concept of love? It made Bellamy a little nervous, since Octavia was clearly in love with Lincoln.
Lincoln looked over Bellamy's shoulder to the sick hut tucked far away on the edge of the camp, and his entire face softened, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
Once upon a time, Bellamy thought he might have the chance to love someone like that too.
Bellamy checked in periodically on Octavia. He wanted to be around the moment she woke up. Especially before anyone told her about his engagement. Between checking on Octavia, he was helping Kane and Lincoln with the packing of the wagons. It was a much larger task than he'd originally thought, since they actually had to think about things getting crushed under other things, and how to organize all of the belongings between what felt like a tiny amount of wagons. People weren't very helpful in that regard either, and Bellamy had to continue explaining why they couldn't just put all of their things on the cart when it appeared that there was a lot of open room.
One wagon was set aside for all of their medical supplies and food. Originally the patients were going to travel with the supplies until Lincoln and Kane pointed out that it was probably a bad idea to let sick people ride with the food that everyone would be eating. Which meant that they had to rearrange a few wagons again. Bellamy was frustrated and fed up with organizing what bags went where, and having to deal with anxious people who kept checking in to make sure their belongings were in the right place. If they were that worried they should just be carrying their stuff like he was going to.
He decided to take a break when Clarke joined them. She was helping Jackson organize all of the medical supplies remaining from the Arc and wanted a walkthrough of where they were at. She went right to Lincoln and Kane instead of him, and really Bellamy should be concerned that only two days after their engagement announcement they were publicly avoiding one another, but he didn't want Clarke to start scowling at him and making a scene.
Instead he made his way to the food hut lineup. They were serving warm soup and Bellamy couldn't think of anything better than being warm. A pretty girl walked by, chatting with her friend. Bellamy couldn't quite remember her name, but before he could stop himself he imagined that it would be pretty nice to kiss her too. They could have some fun warming up together.
"Hey loverboy," Raven greeted, snapping Bellamy out of his fantasy.
"Raven!" he greeted, a little louder than he intended, "I was, uh, the snow is really something, isn't it?"
There was no way Raven didn't know he'd been staring at the girls, and thankfully she didn't comment on it. It meant she would probably bring it up later, when it was even more inconvenient, but Bellamy wasn't ready for that conversation right now.
"Who's this?" Raven nodded to Tara.
She scowled at Raven but didn't answer.
"Lexa gave Clarke and I bodyguards," Bellamy explained. He only just remembered that he should probably be happy about that, in front of other people at least.
"She doesn't trust you to be safe with your own people?" Raven pushed.
"Life on the ground is hard," Bellamy reminded Raven instead, "we're just covering all our bases. Besides, as Chancellor I guess I should really be taking care of myself, right?"
"Sorry," Raven corrected herself, though she was sneering rather than sincere, "I should be calling you Chancellor now, right? Congrats."
The people in front of him turned around and offered to let Bellamy butt the line, but he wanted to take as much time as possible to be sure to avoid Clarke, so he declined.
"Yeah," he agreed, deciding to ignore Raven's contempt for his rise in the ranks, "it's one thing to be running things, but another to actually have the title," he looked around them quickly, "where's Wick?"
Raven rolled her eyes with a groan, and all the anger drained out of her tone, "Hopefully throwing himself into the river. He needs to shock himself back into common sense."
"Domestic troubles?" Bellamy asked wish a smile. Wick and Raven were often at each others' throats, though with the undercurrent of strong affection that meant they never were actually mad with one another. Arguing their ideas with one another and butting heads was how they pushed each other to be better. Raven complaining about Wick wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not that she did often.
True to nature, Raven smiled fondly, "He thinks he knows how to wrap cables better than me, and that we can't even plan on getting the turbines running until we see the damage ourselves."
"You caused that explosion," Bellamy remarked. The line was moving quickly, and Bellamy could smell warm soup and watch the steam pour out of bowls as people walked away with their served meal.
"Exactly!" Raven agreed, "so we know what kind of damage is going on there. But no, he thinks that we can't be sure until we see it with our own eyes. Which, obviously there might be stuff we missed or that we can't predict, but we can at least have a plan and start brainstorming."
Her brace was trailing in the snow, and already her boot and the bottom of her pants were looking soaked. Bellamy didn't ask and carried Raven's bowl for her. She pretended not to notice by talking with her hands, as if she needed a real reason for not carrying her own food. Tara outright rejected having a bowl of soup with barred teeth and a hiss, and skulked along behind them.
"How are you doing with the snow?" Bellamy asked as they sat down. Some people had moved quickly to clear him a space at a nearby bench, and this time he didn't mind taking advantage of his position as Chancellor. The soup was searing hot through the bowl and his finger wraps, but it was heat and was already bringing back some sense of feeling to his hands.
Raven pulled her bowl close to herself, "It's fine," she said dismissively, "besides, once we're in the mountain the snow won't be an issue."
They both ate like people from working stations: quickly, and hunched over their food because they had to protect it from anyone who might try and take it from them. The soup was mostly broth, and weak at that—it might actually be yesterday's soup with more water added to top it up—but it was delicious all the same.
"You'll have everything ready to go?" Bellamy asked, in case Raven wanted to steer the conversation anywhere other than work, "we'll be sitting ducks without electricity."
"We'll get it done," Raven nodded, and took a moment to slurp the last of her broth from her bowl.
"Lincoln said that bread goes well with soup. Did you get a chance to try any?" Bellamy asked. When they'd made their first allegiance with the Grounders there had been a big dinner to celebrate, and the people from the Arc had gotten to try all sorts of foods they'd heard of but never had a chance to try themselves. Bread had been one of Bellamy's favorites, and he and Octavia had made Lincoln go on in detail about all the different types of bread there were. The kids who had been held in Mt Weather, when they could talk about their time there, had a lot of good things to say about the food they'd been served.
Raven nodded, and made a face, "It was… chewy. And weird, but I think I can see what he's talking about."
"There's a huge kitchen in Mt Weather. We'll have to get creative with recipes," Bellamy said.
"Does Clarke know about us?" Raven asked, getting right to the point. Sometimes Bellamy hated how direct she was.
"Does Wick?" Bellamy fired back.
"I'm not marrying him," Raven pointed out, "besides, Clarke's a friend."
"You haven't talked to her since she got back, and besides, she did sleep with someone you loved, so maybe this is fair trade," Bellamy offered. It might've been harsh to bring up Finn—he still wasn't entirely sure how Raven and Clarke felt about the whole thing, or even how they were friends instead—but he wanted Raven to back off and stop asking questions.
"Clarke's a friend," Raven repeated, "and I need to know if you were in love with her when we had our fling."
Bellamy groaned, "Clarke is well aware that I slept around. It's fine, and our relationship is none of your business." Clarke had to know. Bellamy had never tried to hide any of his relations with the other delinquents before the Arc crashed, and while she wouldn't know about anything since she'd left them, what Bellamy did in his spare time was none of her business.
"I look out for my friends," Raven warned. Back to Bellamy's ogling mistake earlier.
"So what are we?" Bellamy asked, "I thought we were friends."
"I liked Clarke first, because you were a dick" Raven reminded him, "but I think you and I are friends now. I was just friends with Clarke first."
"You're telling me to watch my back?" Bellamy asked.
"I'm telling you to be sure you're not rushing things. Are you really ready for marriage?" Raven pressed, "you never struck me as the type who even wanted to get married."
"I love Clarke," Bellamy replied automatically.
"And yet apparently you love the Commander too," Raven growled.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," Bellamy replied.
"I don't understand," Raven snapped, "how you and Clarke can just forget what happened. What she did to us!"
"Raven," Bellamy warned.
Raven sat back, a sneer on her face, "Yeah, yeah, you're the Chancellor now. I should treat you with proper respect and all that. You're still Bellamy, and she's still Clarke. I don't know what's wrong with the both of you but if you honestly love her then I can't change that."
Raven struggled to stand and picked up her empty bowl herself, "The fact that you love her doesn't mean shit to me. She's a ruthless monster, and I won't be surprised when she kills both of you in your sleep."
"Thanks," Bellamy said dryly.
"Just getting in my 'told you so' before it's too late," Raven replied. She turned away without another word and left.
"Shall I kill her?" Tara asked softly, a hand on her sword.
Bellamy spun in his seat, "No! You can't kill anyone!"
Tara rolled her eyes and scoffed. People were staring at them now, so Bellamy gathered his empty bowl to return it to the food hut to be cleaned. He kept his head down and resisted the urge to go check on Octavia again. The camp would fall into disarray without him.
The appeal of snow started to wear off pretty quickly. It was cold, it soaked his boots and the bottom of his pants and made his toes and ankles numb and wet. It was blinding to look at, and it turned what were perfectly fine paths into treacherous nightmares. People were continuously slipping and falling on the snow, which only made them wetter, and just put everyone into a progressively fowler mood. Bellamy had just helped Monroe get to the Arc to have her arm looked at. She'd fallen hard on it and it was swelling badly.
He was trying to figure out how best to deal with the snow—could they remove it? Was there a way to make paths in it or pack it down so people wouldn't slip or get it in their shoes anymore?—when Miller ran up to him.
"Bellamy you gotta come quick," he said.
Bellamy felt a rush of adrenaline. Was Octavia sick? Had Lexa turned on them? "What?" he demanded, and sped up to stay with Miller as they started jogging back across the camp.
"They won't move, and they want to take all of the food. I think there's gonna be a fight," Miller was explaining.
"The grounders?" Bellamy asked.
"No," Miller said, "ours."
Into the residential part of camp, where all the huts and homes were built practically on top of one another, was Kane shouting at people standing in their doorways while they threw snowballs, rocks, and what Bellamy hoped was mud, at him.
"What the hell?" Bellamy demanded loudly.
The look of relief on Kane's face when he saw them only worried Bellamy more, "Chancellor," he said loudly. That was bad. Kane still wasn't entirely happy about being demoted by someone younger than him, but for him to be announcing Bellamy like that meant he was really hoping that Bellamy's rank could help him.
All of the open doors and windows immediately slammed shut, everyone barricading themselves inside. There had to be at least five homes, which meant at least fifteen people were involved, if not more.
Bellamy gestured around, "What the hell?" he repeated.
Kane groaned and ran his hands down his face. He looked exhausted, and his face was red from yelling, "I was doing rounds, knocking on doors to make sure everyone knew exactly what they could pack and how to do so, because I was hoping that would speed things up. And then," he gestured to the antagonistic homes, "I found out we have a separatist movement."
"Separatists," Bellamy echoed.
"They think this camp is our home, because the Arc is here. They aren't willing to let the grounders have it, and aren't willing to live with the grounders either," Kane explained, "so they've decided that they're not coming to Mt Weather with us."
"They're going to stay here," Bellamy clarified, "without any guards, guns, or food. Alone."
"Well they think we're going to leave them guns, and all of the food," Kane explained, "because the food was gathered here, that means it belongs here."
"That's not going to happen," Bellamy said.
"I told them that," Kane agreed, "and then they started throwing things."
"Okay," Bellamy sighed, "I got this."
He walked past Miller and Kane towards the offending homes and planted himself at what looked like the edge of their throwing range. Tara, his apathetic guard, was standing back from the excitement. Next time he saw Lexa he'd make sure she understood he didn't need a bodyguard.
"Listen up!" he shouted, "we are leaving tomorrow, if not today. We need everyone ready to go, so we don't have time for this!"
"We're not going!" a female voice called back.
"The Arc is our home, it has always been our home! We won't abandon it for the savages!" a male voice, from a different house, responded.
"You're going to freeze if you stay here," Bellamy tried to explain, "you think it's cold today? It's only going to get colder."
"We'll build igloos, like the Old Earth people!" a man shouted. A few doors cracked open so Bellamy could see their angry faces peering at him. Some of them reached down to start packing snow to throw at him.
"There's no food," Bellamy tried to reason, "and we are taking what little we have here with us. You'll starve before winter ends."
"That's our food!" the first woman shouted, and she threw her snowball in his direction. It landed a few feet away from him. He heard Tara snort.
This was ridiculous.
"I really don't have time to argue, but we can't leave you here," Bellamy said.
A rock was lobed in his direction, still safely off the mark.
"The savages can't have the Arc! They can't have our food! This is our home!"
"The grounders are working with us," Bellamy stressed, "we're going to be sharing resources. Now, I don't care if you like them or not but you have to finish packing by the end of the day or else you leave your stuff behind. That's an order from your Chancellor."
"I didn't vote for you!"
"I am your Chancellor whether you like it or not. And I'll be happy to talk about any worries you have if you'll just be sure to be packed to go." Bellamy had half a mind to leave them here. He knew there was a little kid in at least one of the homes, and that meant he absolutely couldn't leave them behind, but it was nice to think for a moment that he could just walk away.
"You can leave, but you can't have the food."
"It's not your food, it belongs to everyone."
"Then it belongs to us!"
"Look," he groaned, "you can't stay! That's final! We'll drag you out if we have to!"
"Bellamy," Kane said softly, warning him. He was right. Bellamy was losing his cool. He couldn't let his anger get the best of him. He always regretted the things he did under the influence of his temper.
"Do you have any suggestions?" Bellamy turned to face Kane and Miller, and stopped short when he spotted Lexa and Clarke heading for them. Lexa was striding like she was on a mission and Clarke was moving quickly to keep up. That couldn't mean anything good.
"Are you ready to move?" Lexa demanded in lieu of a greeting.
Bellamy gestured to the doors that had all slammed shut at the appearance of the Commander, "No, we ran into a little hiccup. Besides, it's still early—"
"We must leave now," Lexa ordered.
"Lexa you haven't explained why," Clarke said. Clearly she'd been grabbed by the Commander and dragged here without any reason.
"We've waited too long," Lexa said dismissively, "this is dragging on. Now what's keeping you?"
"We have a separatist group," Bellamy said.
"Separatist?" Clarke echoed. As if he'd make something like that up, "they want to stay? But they'll die."
"I've already explained that to them, just like Kane did earlier," Bellamy snapped. Did she think he was stupid? He could act on his own without Clarke telling him what to do, "but if you want to sit here and argue with them, then be my guest."
"Do they think they can live in these shacks?" Lexa huffed a laugh and Bellamy was nearly floored at seeing her express an actual emotion, "we don't have time for this."
Before Bellamy or Clarke could stop her she strode forwards to the spot Bellamy had been standing earlier.
"People of Skaikru," she shouted, sounding so much louder than her small frame should be able to, "I am informed that you think you can survive the winter on your own?" There were muffled shouts from inside the homes, "you can't!" Lexa snarled, "winter is savage and can strike down even the strongest warriors. The nights are long and dark and the cold will freeze your blood. There is nothing to eat, nothing to burn, and nowhere to go."
"We don't need your help!" a brave man finally shouted. He didn't open his door to her.
"And are you prepared to fight the pakstoka? The pauna? The Wushkripa that will drag you from your home and eat you while you scream? Or defend against the other clans who will raid you for supplies? I think not!"
"Stop her," Clarke hissed to Bellamy, "she's scaring them."
"Me stop her?" Bellamy snapped back, wary of Miller and Kane just a few feet away, "why don't you do something?"
The woman who had thrown a snowball at Bellamy earlier opened her door. In a show of incredible bravery—or stupidity—she stepped out of her home to face Lexa.
She spat at the ground in Lexa's direction, "Go float yourself, savage. We'll defend our home like we always have!"
Lexa moved like an animal. One moment she was staring the woman down, the next she was running and closing the distance between them in leaps and bounds. Bellamy started running before he could think. All he knew was that Lexa was going to kill this woman.
The woman screamed and raced back into her home. Whoever was inside tried to get the door closed but Lexa reached them too soon and in a show of strength kicked the door right off its hinges.
"Defend yourself now!" Lexa snarled.
"Lexa!" Bellamy shouted. He reached her a moment later and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her backwards.
"It's a cultural difference," Clarke was explaining hurriedly behind him, "but now that your door is broken, you have to leave."
"You can't do this to us!" the woman who'd tried to stare down Lexa was shouting hysterically.
Lexa was thrashing in Bellamy's arms and he nearly threw her down.
"What the hell?" he hissed.
"We don't have time for them," she snapped, and she actually looked angry too, "they need to understand the truth. They will obey, or they will die. You are far too soft in dealing with them."
"You can't just attack our people!" Bellamy was barely kept himself from attacking her. He stayed between her and the houses, just in case she tried to take another run at them. She was smaller than him, and he'd thought that one-on-one he might be able to best her, but after seeing her kick in a door he wasn't so confident in his chances anymore.
"Lexa," Clarke said, sickeningly sweet, "I'm sure you want to apologize for scaring these people."
Lexa forced any hint of rage out of her expression, putting on her cold, expressionless mask again, "of course, niron."
She shoved past the two of them and walked up to the woman who was hyperventilating in her doorway.
Lexa bowed her head slightly, "I have been informed that Skaikru are not used to shows of power. You are free to make up your mind about whether you want to die here, or live in the mountain, but we will be leaving shortly. With or without you."
"Today?" Kane echoed, "we aren't ready!"
"I must speak with my houmons," Lexa ordered, turning back to Bellamy and Clarke.
"We're not ready to leave today, what are you talking about?" Clarke demanded.
Lexa led them further away from the people, though Kane and Miller were following close behind. Bellamy waved them to stand back so the three of them could talk privately. He sure had some choice words for the Commander.
"I have had scouts watching the path to the mountain, keeping it clear of any thieves or assailants," Lexa explained.
"And?" Bellamy pressed, "why are you forcing this?"
"Azgeda," Lexa said, and Clarke gasped softly, "the Ice Nation is moving into my territory. If they discover I am camped here with you, they will know that we plan to take the mountain and they will steal it from us."
"They can't do anything with it," Clarke reasoned, "they don't know the technology."
"That doesn't matter," Lexa insisted, "if the Azplana can get her army between us and the mountain, then we are all dead."
"Where's your army?" Bellamy asked, "why not fight back?"
"The clans all returned to their own territories when the war ended," Lexa said, "I would not be able to summon them in time. They cannot help us. We must move fast and move quickly to take the mountain before Azgeda. Anything left behind we can arrange for supply runs if you truly need it."
Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose, "This is… this is too fast. But okay. We need to start loading up the sick, right now. And all the medical supplies. And the food. That's most important. And people are going to have to carry most of their stuff because we didn't get a chance to repack all of the wagons. They're going to be mad about it, but we can be ready. In, um, an hour. Maybe more."
"Faster. It's going to be difficult," Lexa admitted, "we will have to push hard. I had hoped we could make the trek easy, and camp overnight if need be, but we don't have the luxury of time. Now, since Azgeda is in the territory it means they will be watching the roads. I think we should take alternative routes."
"Which way is the fastest?" Bellamy asked, "we have guns. We have your warriors. I think we just plow through and show this Ice Nation not to mess with us."
"With a loaded caravan we cannot risk battle," Lexa insisted, "we will lose. The other routes are almost as fast—"
"Then why aren't they normally used?" Clarke asked.
"We have to cross the river. There is one bridge, you know this, and that is surely where an ambush waits for us," Lexa said, "if we go around the bridge, it will gain us some time before they realize we tricked them. We send a small party of warriors to distract the ambush to give us more time."
"How do we cross the river without a bridge?" Bellamy asked warily.
"The river freezes solid in the winter," Lexa explained, "the ice is so thick you can ride your horse over it many times."
"It hasn't been nearly cold enough to freeze!" Clarke almost shouted.
"We must hope it has, or we find somewhere to ford the river," Lexa insisted, "if we cross at the bridge we will lose too much."
"No," Bellamy said, "we're not swimming across a freezing river or walking on thin ice. We go for the bridge, check it out. With our weapons I'm sure we can get through."
"You have too many sick to risk such an action," Lexa said.
"We have our guns," Bellamy said, "and that's final. We go through the bridge."
Lexa barred her teeth, "it's not just your people that we could lose. I have an obligation to my people as well. Many of my warriors are in Mt Weather right now, getting ready for you to arrive. I have elders and children with me, and I cannot risk their lives because you are afraid of the cold!"
"Bellamy's right," Clarke said, "we have guns. We can attack from afar. We'll use scouts to find the Azgeda warriors and then we'll kill them. The straight drive through is our best bet."
Lexa almost looked shocked, as if she'd expected Clarke to take her side, "Don't let your feelings for me cloud your judgement," she warned, "if you fire one gun you will bring the whole army down on us."
"We're doing this my way," Bellamy confirmed, "I'll go make the announcement."
Lexa all but growled as Bellamy walked away from her.
And the race is on! Who's gonna make it to Mt Weather first? Ice Nation, or the Skaikru/Trikru union?!
The angry cuddles are here! Spiteful spooning is one of my favorite tropes and is probably the biggest inspiration for writing this story. There will absolutely be more grumpy bed sharing in the future.
Yay Raven! I'm happy this chapter came on the heels of a good Raven episode. I told you I didn't forget about her and Bellamy hooking up! And she's looking out for Clarke (: (in her own way, but she does care!)
Quick note that I forgot to say in the beginning: the reason everyone is confessing to Clarke about sleeping with Bellamy is because they don't know when Clarke and Bellamy were in love, and they're worried about potentially having been in the way of Clarke and Bellamy (and Lexa) falling in love! Because the Arc society puts such pressure and status on being in True Love (getting married) these people are all coming forwards to essentially 'confess their sins'. It's really not a normal thing, since this isn't really a normal (Arc) marriage.
Lexa does not mess around either. She is small but mighty. We know that the grounders had to deal with high levels of radiation after the bombs fell, and that the earth at large is still very radioactive. While they exile most physical mutations, I like to imagine that a lot of invisible mutations live on in their society. Like say, for instance, black blood or being abnormally strong?
That's it for this week! I love hearing back from y'all. I am but a simple writing beast and your reviews sustain me for another week.
See ya next Saturday, for the Great Migration!