Hey! It sure has been… years... woops. Big thanks to ao3 user and absolutely stunning author and artist littlewhitetie for A) binging the 100 and sharing her reactions to it, which inspired my love for these characters again, and then B) actually reading this story and reminding me how much I loved it!
This chapter is a monster. And, the worst part, is that I actually cut it halfway through what I originally intended. This was supposed to be the end of "Act 1", but, we'll need about 2 more chapters for that! This is important because "Act 2" has been intended to open with Lexa's pov, and I know a lot of y'all are excited for that! So, never fear it's… close, and not too far away!
I apologize if, after all the buildup, the story starts to feel a little rushed. We're moving through points a biiiitt faster than I intended, but mostly it's to help me, the writer, maintain interest so I can keep writing. And so I can try and actually finish this story! It's intended to cover a few months overall, and we've barely covered a week at this point lol.
A few things to note: I've been calling it Mt Weather this whole time and its… Mount Weather. Woops. We're changing that up.
Also… how did I go like 90k calling it 'The Arc' instead of 'The Ark'? I don't know what I was on, lol, but, again, changing that starting this chapter.
And we're having a tense change! In the years since starting this story, I've begun writing predominantly in present tense. I tried going back to past tense for this story, but I didn't like it, so, from here on, we're in present tense! That's what happens when you don't work on a story for a few years lol.
And, lastly, it's been a few years since I had this story fully formed in my brain. And I was a silly bean and didn't write down most of my ideas! So, I apologize if you're reading though and a subplot you'd noticed suddenly disappears! I'm doing my best to retrace my steps, as I know the Big Moments for this story, but a lot of the little details may be lost to time and my own foolhardiness.
Warnings: this story is going to remain T/at the same rating as the show, so we won't get super graphic with a lot of things, but in this chapter the topic of sex does come up a few times!
As always, Trig translations are provided at the end of the chapter!
It's so dark that Clarke thinks she's having a nightmare. Any second now Finn will come out of the darkness, and Clarke will kill him again.
She tries to distract herself by remembering the map of Mount Weather. Level 0 at the top, where they entered and locked the door behind them. Level 01 below, the warehouse, where she went down with Po. And the levels keep going down and down and down. Down past level 05 where everyone died, all the way to the President's office at the bottom.
Clarke finishes putting on her new shoes. They're slip-ons, because her fingers are too stiff to tie laces and she doesn't want to ask for help. She tries not to think about who had worn them before. Once her boots have dried, she'll go back to wearing those. These shoes wouldn't last her a day outside of Mount Weather.
"Alright Po, you can turn around," she says.
Po is holding the lit torch for her, which is the only reason she'd let him stay in the room while she got dressed. She's thankful the torchlight isn't strong enough to illuminate the entire room. It's a warehouse of supplies that the citizens of Mount Weather once used. Artwork, clothing, furniture, everything that was extra. Clarke wonders if they switched the art and furniture around occasionally with those they had on display, or pretended to have seasons that required scenery changes. She'll never know. Everyone who would know is long dead. Because of her.
When they'd destroyed the generators months ago, to force Cage Wallace into letting their people go, Mount Weather had backup generators to rely on until they could salvage their power supply. That's what Clarke had been hoping for—that Mount Weather could continue to exist without her people as their pawns and genetic stock. But the emergency power has long since been used up, and now the Mountain is impossibly dark inside. There are only torches to light the way, and outside of the fire is a darkness unlike anything Clarke has ever known.
It reduces Clarke's world to what the fire of Po's torch can illuminate. And she's almost thankful for that. Clarke doesn't want to see the signs of a lived-in home when she is the one who killed them, and is now stealing their clothes. Well, is it stealing when they won't need them anymore?
The clothes smell stale, with a faint odor of all the people who wore them before. It's drowned out by the overwhelming smell that dominates Mount Weather: the smell of rot.
When they'd left Mount Weather months ago to bring their people home, there hadn't been time to take care of the bodies. No one wanted to be in the mountain any longer than they needed to, and so they grabbed what supplies they could carry and they ran. The bodies had been left exposed and nature had taken its course. In the warm belly of the mountain they had rotted and the stench permeated everything. It's nearly unbearable. Clarke ties a threadbare shirt over her mouth and nose to act as a mask. They'd found perfumes locked away in homes, likely from before The War, that should have been saved for special occasions only. These Founder relics should be respected, used sparingly, and instead they are being used to spray masks to make being in the mountain tolerable.
The bodies are all down in the fifth level. And Clarke's people are setting up camp on the first. If the smell is this bad so far away… Clarke can't imagine what it must have been like for Lexa's warriors to be hauling them all the way out of the darkness. It would take hours going up and down the stairs. Clarke can still vividly remember the piles of bodies just outside the door. They'd been piling them to burn, as is their tradition, but the warriors were unwilling to start cremation until Lexa was inside Mt Weather for fear of alerting any Azgeda forces to their plan to occupy the mountain.
"The mountain is much larger than I remember," Po comments, following Clarke towards the stairs for the main entrance where everyone else is. They move slowly, with a hand to the wall, because they can't see anything beyond the edge of Po's torchlight.
Clarke forgot that Po was one of the grounders being held hostage here, to be drained of his blood and experimented on or whatever else the people of Mount Weather were doing to them. She wonders if she should ask how he feels about being back, and then decides that she doesn't want to know. Even if it upsets him, there's nowhere else for them to go.
"Yeah," Clarke says instead, "it'll be enough space for all of us. I just wish we could let it air out."
They'd shut the main gates behind them as the last of the group rushed into safety. There hadn't been signs of Azgeda save for some stray arrows, and the howling of the wolves following them, and no one was looking to fight them again any time soon. But closing the main doors means the stagnant, putrid air stays trapped with them, heavy like a blanket and now mixing with all the smells of a large group of people and animals who haven't bathed in days, and who have been running nearly all day.
Had Clarke known it would be like this she would have never agreed to come. She would have preferred her people stay out in the clean, open air and sunlight of the outside, even as the cold slowly killed them. Now she is asking them to live in a tomb of her own making.
It's so dark that people are wary to move much further inside than the entrance, which was secure. They've already startled a fox and some raccoons that had made the mountain their own, and they were hesitant to discover what other animals could be lurking in the dark. The threat of the Reapers is still very real, though if they'd had the clarity of mind to hunt through the mountain to find the drug they were looking for, Clarke supposes they would have taken all they could at that moment, and probably died from an overdose. It would mean more bodies to find, which isn't a satisfying thought. In any case they know the tunnels are open, and so a perimeter is being set up.
Rather than push for everyone to move further into the darkness of the mountain, and try navigating the many levels and spaces, Lexa had called for a rest once the door was secure. Camp is being set up and furniture is being broken down to create small fires, on which the aforementioned fox and raccoons are to be roasted. A warm meal will improve everyone's spirits.
Po reaches the top of the stairs, and opens the door for her.
"Welcome home, Wanheda," he says. She wonders if he's trying to make light of the situation.
The temporary camp lays in front of her, Ark on one side, grounder on the other. The air is chilled, but there are enough people and animals moving about, and fires lit, that it's beginning to warm.
It doesn't feel like home. Clarke doesn't think it ever will.
Clarke makes her way back to her mother. It takes a while to find her. In the firelight and darkness, all people look the same. They're all featureless forms, until the light catches the angles of their face, or the shine of their eyes, and reveals who they are.
Mom is busy tending to all of the injuries sustained over the day with the little resources she has. It makes Clarke's heart stop to see the blood soaking her mother's shirt— in all of the day's events she'd forgotten that a wolf had bitten her mother. But mom assures her she's fine, only required a few stitches and Jackson already took care of that.
In the time that Clarke has been away getting changed, Mom has already seen to Bellamy and Lexa. They are nowhere to be found—or heard— so Clarke assumes that Bellamy is out of commission somewhere. He'd looked half-dead when Lincoln and Po had helped him off of Lexa's horse, covered in blood from his teeth to his boots, and slurring his words and unable to stay upright. Clarke isn't sure how hard it's so hard for him to understand that he has a concussion and needs to avoid using his head. It seems like he's purposely going out of the way to charge headfirst, literally, into everything.
She'd thought he was going to die. She'd spotted Bellamy from the sick wagon, when she was out of arrows. The Azgeda warrior was advancing on him and he was on all fours trying to crawl away. Clarke had already seen too much death—she'd watched Wick die just a few hours before—and no matter how much she shouted for someone to help, no one had been able to answer. Except Lexa.
Lexa had saved both their lives on this trip. Clarke isn't sure how to feel about that. When she looks at the Commander, she feels the raw heat from months of resentment and betrayal. Yet she's remembering how inspiring Lexa can be, and… and Clarke is remembering how she'd felt about Lexa. Before the betrayal. She hadn't been ready for a romance—she still isn't—not after Finn. But with Lexa there had been a feeling, a sensation, between them. It was electric how they worked together, how they responded to each other's' thoughts and how Lexa had been a rock for Clarke to find her footing with. She'd been Clarke's rock, in the aftermath of Finn. Lexa had been the one Clarke had relied on.
I paid the price for that mistake, Clarke reminds herself.
Clarke finds Raven sitting near Mom, still wrapped in a blanket. She's staring into the dark, quiet and still in a way that Clarke has never seen Raven before. Clarke didn't invite Raven to come find clothes with her. She'd assumed that Raven still didn't want to be near her, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe Raven needs a friend.
Clarke approaches as loudly as she can, tapping her toes on the ground so that she doesn't spook Raven, "Hey," she says gently.
Raven blinks heavily and slowly turns to face Clarke. Her eyes are glossy, and her expression screams pain in a way that Clarke can't articulate. She is so, so pale and her face is crusted with dried blood. Her skin is rubbed raw from being dragged along the bottom of the river, and the underside of the ice. Clarke is sure she doesn't look much better.
"Do you want to get dressed? I found some stuff downstairs that should fit you," Clarke offers. She tries to be warm and friendly in tone, but a little forceful too. If Raven is in shock, then being dressed will help her feel more secure.
Raven sniffs loudly, wipes her nose on the edge of the blanket.
"No, no, I brought some stuff with me. I just— need to get somewhere to change."
Raven holds out a hand. Clarke remembers right then that they'd taken Raven's brace off when they'd stripped her of her wet clothes. And she'd been bitten and dragged by her leg. She can't walk on her own.
"Wanheda," Po offers Clarke the torch so that he can carry Raven. He is the better choice—he's bigger than Clarke and could easily support Raven's weight.
"No, I've got her," Clarke shakes her head and takes Raven's hand. Raven is her best friend. Clarke hasn't been around for the last few months, but she's here now. Raven has her support.
Raven stays quiet as she and Clarke slowly make their way to a dark corner. While Clarke will take Raven anywhere, she doesn't think either of them will fare well on the long, steep stairs down to the warehouse. Po leads with the torch so they can see where they're going. It's slow going, and Raven wheezes with every step. Only because she's so close, Clarke notices a distinct rattle in Raven's breathing. Between the slow starvation, the cold, and the river, Clarke's not shocked that Raven's sick. She needs lots of rest, and somewhere warm.
If only… Clarke spares only a brief thought for how it would have been good to have Wick here, to take care of Raven. He would have carried her, and forced her to rest and get well. But he… he's gone.
May we meet again, Clarke thinks, and hopes that Wick's soul has found the distant shore. She hopes it's peaceful there.
Clarke helps Raven sit down against the wall. She digs through Raven's bag. Lots of the clothes in here are men's clothing. It's hard to find which ones are specifically Raven's in the low light. Clarke does her best. She knows Raven will prefer pants, and knows she's found the right ones when she can tell the pair will tuck easily under her brace. And she likes shirts without sleeves for when she's working with machinery, and then a jacket over those for when she's cold. And pockets. Raven is always putting little bits and parts into her pockets.
"Not that one," Raven says, and hands back the jacket, "I want— not mine. Please."
Po politely turns his back to give them privacy as Clarke gives Raven one of Wick's jackets. Clarke turns her back as well, to let Raven dress herself. It takes a while. Clarke hears Raven struggling, and forces herself to wait. Raven won't appreciate her hovering.
"Clarke?" Raven asks, her voice small. Clarke turns to face her.
Her eyes are bright like she might cry, and Clarke knows she's thinking about Wick, with his jacket loose around her shoulders, but at the moment she can't get her pants on while she's sitting down, and she can't stand on her own.
"Everything hurts," Raven admits with a weak laugh, "I'm all stiff."
Clarke nods rather than risk talking. She feels the same way. All of her muscles ache, and her body feels like it's going to break rather than bend. It was difficult to dress herself, and Clarke has full mobility in both her legs.
Raven lets Clarke help get her pants over her ankles, and up her calves until Raven can reach and pull them up herself. Clarke lets Raven lean on her so that she can stand and tug her pants up over her hips.
"Thank you," Raven says, and she gets both hands on Clarke's shoulders to hold her tight, "I— I mean it. Thank you. You saved my life."
"Of course," Clarke says gently, "you're my friend."
Raven's mouth gets tight, and she nods, "I— I'm sorry I wasn't talking to you."
Clarke shakes her head, "No, no, you have every right to be mad—"
"I don't. You're my friend, Clarke. And I haven't been a good one to you," Raven insists. She pauses a moment, hesitant, before she says, "I didn't pick you first."
Clarke finds herself surprisingly emotional. She can't speak. She's been holding her breath without realizing it, waiting for some show of kindness from her friends, from the people she loves so fiercely that she did the unthinkable for them. And now it's here and—
"Don't cry," Raven growls, "because if you cry, I'll cry, and—"
She has to stop to try and wipe her eyes before she starts crying in earnest.
"I missed you," Clarke admits.
"I'm sorry," Raven says. Clarke moves forwards to wrap her arms around Raven's lithe frame, holding her tight. Raven presses her face to Clarke's shoulder, holding her back just as tightly.
The moment is broken when Raven starts coughing.
"You'll need to rest," Clarke says, "we'll get you some medicine right away."
Raven shakes her head, clenches her jaw tight, "I'll be fine. Besides, Sinclair needs me on the generators."
"Raven," Clarke says, an argument in itself. She knows Raven will find ways to keep her hands busy. It's how she handles grief.
"Clarke," Raven replies in a similar tone. She won't talk about Wick, not until she's ready.
For the first time since her return, Clarke thinks she made the right decision to come home.
"If you use the tunnels you can get to the dam without going outside," Clarke says. She's crouched over the only piece of paper they managed to find between all of them— a torn out page from Lincoln's notebook— and trying to draw the map of Mount Weather from memory.
They've formed a war room of sorts— a table found inside the facility here, and some candles from Lexa's belongings to see by. They're tucked against the side of a wagon for some semblance of privacy, but otherwise they're completely open. The sounds of people setting up tents, or trying to, and movement of camp creates a strong background noise.
"We don't know what's waiting for us down there," Kane points out.
"It's true," Lexa agrees, "Azgeda may know about the tunnels, and may use them to infiltrate Maun-de. And the reapers may still live."
"It's safer than going outside," Clarke points out, "and it's the best we've got."
Kane frowns, looking over the map. Clarke's right, and he knows it, but it's still a very risky plan.
"I don't know if I can get to it until I find all my people," Sinclair says. He's got his arms crossed across his chest and his face is furrowed as he thinks, "I don't even know who all made it."
And some people are still missing. Indra hasn't returned. She went out with Bellamy and the others.
"Indra's 'ith Hux,'' Bellamy growls, his words slurring together, "'n some others. They'll make it." He looks like a nightmare, face still smeared with his own blood. He hasn't had a chance to get changed yet, and so his shirt is still covered in blood and sick as well. He looks like a dead man walking. Well, not walking. He's leaning on their makeshift table like it's the only thing keeping him upright. Which, well, it probably is.
He looks so pathetic that Clarke wishes he would go lay down somewhere, but Mom ordered that he not sleep for a few hours because of his multiple concussions.
"How long will it take to restore power?" Kane asks.
Sinclair shakes his head, "Hard to say. I think we can get the backup generators going, get some minimal systems running again, but it's going to depend on all the people I have."
"Raven's sick," Clarke adds in, and even in the dim firelight they're using to see, she can tell that Sinclair's face goes white with worry.
"How bad? Where is she?" he asks.
"Just got the cough right now," Clarke assures him, "and we're here now, with medicine. I think she'll make a full recovery. She's resting right now."
Clarke left Raven in the care of Mom and Jackson, who had her set up in an area that was now functioning as the new Sick Ward. In reality it was just where they could lay out all the sick people so they didn't have to stay on the wagons all piled on one another.
"The infirmary is on Level 02. It's going to be a challenge to get everyone down there without the elevators, but, if we can get the generators going then Mom can start treating people properly," Clarke says, and points to the room on the map.
"I need to get eyes on the damage before I can figure out how long it's going to take to fix things," Sinclair says, "but I can tell you that we won't have full power for a while."
"That's fine," Clarke agrees, "as long as we get some lights, and ventilation going. We have to hope their gardens survived too."
If they don't have the crops, then they won't have food to eat over the winter and they'll starve. In any case they'll have to go hunting eventually, or, perhaps, eat the horses. Clarke hopes it doesn't come to that.
"There is much to be done," Lexa says. She's staring at the map intensely, "we will have to continue removing bodies at some point. My warriors were unable to complete the work in the short time."
Clarke's stomach lurches at the thought.
"W'need patrols," Bellamy grits out. He wavers on his feet for a second and both Lexa and Kane, on either side of him, jump to hold him upright. Bellamy shrugs them both off.
"I'll set patrols at all the entrances," Kane says.
"Keep everyone on this level for tonight," Clarke decides, "and tomorrow we'll make a team to go inspect the dam."
It's not much, but it's the best they can do under the circumstances.
Po helps carry Bellamy to their new room. He protests, but he's too weak to do much about it right now.
There's one room, with a door, in the entire open space. Clarke supposes it was once somewhere for Mount Weather guards to spend time between shifts. There were chairs, and tables in here, but they've since been removed to be used by the camp outside. There's counter space, and a sink. And off to one side, a small bathroom. They don't have the plumbing functioning, so it's useless at the moment. It's not meant to be a living quarters by any means, but it's private.
Lexa lights candles and sets them out on the countertops. Her belongings are only being partially unloaded, so they can set up some furs on the floor to sleep in. It's not going to be comfortable, sleeping on a hard floor, but Clarke is so tired that she really doesn't care.
It feels wrong to have the only private room, with all of their people having to sleep in the open space outside. But she, Lexa and Bellamy are the leaders. They get special treatment. Clarke isn't a fan.
Clarke hasn't thanked Lexa yet for pulling both her and Raven from the river, or for saving Bellamy's life. She isn't sure if she can force herself to sound sincere to Lexa, and is waiting for the right time.
The room is big enough that Clarke thinks she'll be fine to take a fur for warmth, and then go sleep by herself with her back against a wall.
Bellamy dry-heaves as Po sets him down near the bed. He rolls into a ball against the wall, facing away from them, and covers his eyes with his hand.
"Are you okay?" Clarke asks.
"I'm fine," Bellamy growls.
"You need to get changed, you're filthy," Clarke says.
Bellamy grumbles some words that are probably insulting, but Clarke rolls her eyes and ignores him.
"Wanheda?" Po inquires, "is there anything else I can do?"
"I'm… I'm good," Clarke decides, "we'll be fine, thank you."
"You were exceptional on the battlefield," Lexa adds, "I am happy to say that I chose correctly for you to protect my niron. Eat, and sleep well tonight."
Po nods thankfully at his dismissal, "Thank you, Heda," he says, and takes his leave.
Lexa closes the door behind him, and the three of them wait in silence for a few moments. They can hear the sound of people outside, but it's muffled now. It feels like this morning, waking up in Lexa's bed, was a lifetime ago.
"The journey... did not go as planned," Lexa admits. Of all the things Clarke thought Lexa might say— including nothing at all— she was unprepared for Lexa trying to make light of the situation.
"Yeah, you think?" Clarke snaps, "Wick is dead! People died! I almost died!"
She doesn't even need to point at Bellamy, who's still slumped against the wall. He looks like he wishes he was dead.
Lexa narrows her eyes at Clarke. She looks deadly, and almost unnatural, with her black blood smeared across her face, "You are both too careless with your lives—"
"What the hell is Azgeda doing in your territory?" Clarke demands, "I thought you were the leader of—"
"Ai laik fousen Heda!" Lexa shouts, and it's the first time she's raised her voice at Clarke. Clarke takes a nervous step backwards. The last time Lexa raised her voice, she kicked a door out of its frame back in Camp Jaha. Clarke saw her beheading people with one swing of her sword just earlier today.
"Would both've you shut up?" Bellamy snarls. He hasn't moved from his fetal position, trying to block out the candlelight with a hand, "m'brain is going to explode and— and neither of you are helping."
With Lexa's anger interrupted, it fades like it was smoke in the wind. Clarke nearly sways on her feet. She's so tired.
"We should rest," Lexa decides, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. Now Clarke doesn't want to sleep, just to spite her. To prove that Lexa doesn't control her.
"Bellamy needs to change," Clarke points out, and gestures weakly. She doesn't want to help him, but she's pretty sure he won't be able to do it himself. Clarke's helped her mom dress and undress patients hundreds of times before, so it's nothing new, but in this instance she can't say she's happy about the idea of fighting with Bellamy the whole time.
"'M right here," Bellamy mumbles, and he groans as he shrugs out of his jacket.
Clarke turns away to give him privacy, and doesn't offer to help. Lexa seems completely unbothered, but takes notice of Clarke turning her back, and mimes the action.
There's something large— a big rectangular thing with two doors on it, in the room. Clarke thinks she knew the name of it once, from her history classes, but she's too tired to care right now. Lexa walks over to inspect it, and pulls on the door handles to see what's inside. Clarke follows, curious enough to be drawn in, and is close enough to get a whiff of rotten food before Lexa slams the door closed.
"Ugh," Clarke groans, and waves her hand to try and get rid of the smell.
"What was the purpose of this?" Lexa wonders.
"Food storage," Clarke says, and it's on the tip of her tongue but she can't remember it. Wells would know it, she's sure, "I— I think it preserved it longer than if it was outside it. I can't remember how, though."
Lexa turns to look at her, "You know of these things?"
Clarke shrugs, "We studied a lot of Founder stuff on the Ark. I don't remember it all."
Lexa finds that the thing— fridge, Clarke remembers triumphantly— that the fridge isn't connected to the counters. She makes an excited sound.
"Help me move this," Lexa says, "we can use it to barricade the door to the stairs."
The fridge is heavy. Clarke's shocked by the weight of it. Clarke has to use her whole weight to leverage it to pull the fridge out from its spot against the wall. Lexa's good hand is awkward for the angle it would take to shift the fridge, and the other hand is being held tight to her body. In the light Clarke can see the dark bruises under her skin, and the swelling in her fingers from where she'd damaged her hand to save Clarke and Raven today.
Clarke has to take a break after a few minutes of rocking the fridge. It's freezing cold in the room, from all the winter air, but she's worked up a sweat. She tries to think of anything other than the determination it must have taken Lexa to punch her way through the thick ice. Or of how badly it must have hurt. Clarke doesn't even know if Lexa broke bones to save her. She hasn't asked.
Clarke does want to ask why they haven't gotten other, stronger people to come help them move the heavy fridge.
Clarke has given Lexa enough space between counter and fridge so she can step into it.
"Open the door for me, Clarke," Lexa instructs.
Lexa crouches low against the fridge to keep from tipping it over, and shoves with her shoulder and good hand. It takes less time for her to get the fridge out the door than it did for Clarke to move it enough to make room for Lexa. She makes it look… easy. Too easy.
It takes two men to move the fridge as easily as Lexa did. And even then… Clarke thinks they are struggling more than Lexa was. She and Lexa oversee as the fridge is added to the small barricade on the stairway door. Everyone will sleep better tonight, knowing that if an attack does come, this should slow them down.
For the first time, Clarke wonders if Lexa's black blood is her only mutation.
"I will take first watch," Lexa announces when they've returned to their room. She gestures to the pile of furs on the floor that form their temporary bed, "you and Bellamy can sleep for now."
Bellamy has managed to change shirts— this new one is threadbare, likely from the Ark, and he's rolled into the furs and looks like he's already asleep.
"No. I'll take first watch," Clarke decides. The last thing she wants is to end up with Lexa and Bellamy on either side of her again. And she should stay awake to keep an eye on Bellamy.
Lexa looks up at her with hard eyes.
"You both were gravely injured today. Forgive me, but I do not think either of you are capable of protecting us," Lexa says.
Clarke bristles, and grits her teeth, "I can fight just—"
"No. You are both weak from the journey. You will need your rest," Lexa interrupts her.
Clarke hears Bellamy say something, but he doesn't enunciate it enough to understand. She sees him raise a hand with his middle finger extended. He's pointing it in the wrong direction.
"You rest," Clarke tries to argue, "I'm not tired."
Clarke's body betrays her when she gets surprised by a yawn. Lexa looks disappointed. Clarke is too. She thought she was a better liar.
"Go to bed," Lexa growls, "you will need the rest. There is much work to be done in the morning."
Lexa hops up to sit on the countertop. She looks surprisingly small, almost frail, with the way her feet dangle above the floor. It's a strange juxtaposition with the fierce warrior Clarke knows her to be.
Lexa is right, though Clarke is loath to admit it. She squeezes her eyes shut a moment to compose herself.
"Bellamy and I need to be woken up in a few hours," Clarke says, and gestures to her head, "we have to make sure neither of us are suffering other side-effects from… well, everything."
Lexa nods slowly, though there's a curiosity to her expression that makes Clarke think this is medical advice that's been lost amongst the grounders.
"I will do that," Lexa agrees, and nods to the bed, "now, sleep."
Clarke is tired enough that she nods in agreement, rather than think of something angry to say. She crouches by Bellamy's head.
"You should probably be closer to the bathroom," Clarke tells Bellamy, "in case you get sick in the night."
Bellamy has some more choice words for her bothering him, but he moves over anyways.
The furs smell like grounder. It's a strange mix of earthy smells that Clarke still can't define— there's hints of smoke, dirt, and something tantalizingly alive. Overall, it stinks, it's nothing like Clarke's familiar with from the Ark, so it feels absolutely alien to her. And these are Lexa's beddings, so, there's an underlying scent of her in everything.
The floor underneath is hard, even with a blanket to lay on, and Clarke knows her hip will ache in the morning. She keeps her back to Bellamy, determined to stay as far from him as she can.
But pulling the blanket around herself, especially since Bellamy was laying here before, is so warm that Clarke almost sighs in relief. Clarke's fingers are still stiff and raw from freezing and drawing her bow. She'd slipped several times and has red-raw lashes on her wrist where the drawstring snapped against her exposed skin.
Clarke's so exhausted she doesn't think she'll be able to get up again. But she lays in the dark, aware of Lexa's presence, and Bellamy behind her. He didn't roll far enough away, and she can feel the movement as he tries to get comfortable.
Clarke is almost asleep when Bellamy dry-heaves loudly.
"Don't get sick on the bed!" Clarke shouts, bolting upright. Bellamy snaps some unkind words back at her. He breathes heavily, and then curls in a ball on his side, covering his face with an arm.
Clarke should probably feel sorry for him. He's not going to be okay for a while, with how badly he's hit his head now. But she's sore, miserable and exhausted.
"He will be okay?" Lexa asks nervously. She's jumped down from the counter to crouch at the end of the makeshift bed. Clarke hears Bellamy growl some response. She wishes he would just fall asleep. He's too miserable to do anything but be angry.
Clarke can only shrug in response, "We'll see," she admits, "but… he's alive. And I'm alive, thanks to you."
The torchlight makes the shadows in the room dark and deep, and Lexa's eyes look like stars from the darkness of her blood mask.
"Thank you," Clarke mumbles, and she knows she should say it, that she needs to say it, but it still tastes sour to owe anything to Lexa, "thank you for saving my life."
Lexa is quiet for a moment, to the point that Clarke thinks she won't respond at all, but then she says, "I will keep you safe, Clarke. We are partners."
Clarke doesn't know how to respond to that. She lays back down, and draws the blanket up around her shoulders. Because Bellamy has his knees pulled up, the bend of his back means he's laying nearly back-to-back with Clarke.
"Don't touch me," she tells him.
Bellamy whimpers in response. Clarke almost feels bad for him. Almost.
"And remember to wake us in a few hours," Clarke reminds Lexa.
After everything that has happened today, and all that has to happen tomorrow, Clarke doesn't expect to sleep much. Her brain will be too busy solving problems and trying to keep everyone alive.
Clarke is asleep before she hears Lexa's response.
Clarke wakes to hands on her. There's Finn— he's touching her; he's bleeding on her—
She has to get away from him, she's killing him—
"Klark? Klark, chil au," Lexa hisses.
Clarke's still dreaming— it's endless dark, she's trapped— and she throws out an arm to stabilize herself and hits Bellamy, who's sleeping beside her.
She remembers where she is. She's in Mount Weather. With Lexa and Bellamy. She's not killing Finn. Not again. The candles must have been put out, so it's completely dark in the room.
Bellamy gags loudly, making Clarke sit up in alarm.
Lexa is kneeling over her, crouched to rouse Clarke with her good hand, or so Clarke supposes. In the dark Clarke doesn't realize how close she is, and headbutts her as Clarke lunges upright. Their noses crack together, and as they both move, their faces shift, Lexa is off-balance and falls forwards, and Clarke feels the weight of Lexa's lips against her own. Clarke freezes, her heart stopping cold, and she feels Lexa do the same. Their faces are still so close she can feel the warmth of Lexa's breath against her mouth.
"I'm gonna—" Bellamy whimpers in the dark beside them. Clarke pulls away from Lexa like she's been burned.
"Get out of the bed!" Clarke insists, and pushes at his back to force him to move, "there's a bathroom—" Where? In which direction was it?
She can feel the blankets move, and flinches at the cold air, as Bellamy clambers out of their bed. She hears the sound of him scrambling in the dark. Clarke hopes he doesn't hit his head again.
"Belomi?" Lexa calls, and Clarke feels her pull away to crawl across the bed and try to follow him. It's so dark. This would almost be funny if Clarke didn't feel like her heart wanted to drop into her stomach, if she couldn't still feel the warmth of Lexa's kiss, and if she could see her hands to prove they're not covered in Finn's blood.
Bellamy does manage to find the attached bathroom. Unfortunately, he's not able to close the door, so Clarke has to listen to him throw up. She wants to think of anything else. Even the loud noises of the camp setting up seem to have faded away. Likely people are sleeping, exhausted from the long day of travel. Clarke doesn't even know how long they were asleep. Or what time it is.
Rather than risk walking into anything, and because he's still disoriented, Bellamy crawls on his hands and knees back to bed.
"That sucked," he groans.
Clarke almost laughs. She's shaking with adrenaline. She feels like she could be sick too, if she thinks too hard about what just happened.
In the dark, she hears movement from Lexa settling in near the end of the bed. It's both too close and so far away. Clarke waits for Lexa to say something about the accidental kiss. To mock her? Or use it against her? She doesn't know.
"I have arranged guards to stand watch, and they have fortified the barricade. I will sleep now. Do you need another wake up?" Lexa asks.
They probably do. But, considering how awful this one went, Clarke thinks she'd rather take her chances.
"No," Clarke decides, "that sucked." She meant how chaotic it had all been, and realizes after she spoke that Lexa will likely assume she's talking about the kiss. Good. She's not supposed to like Lexa anyways.
"I would rather not repeat this experience," Lexa agrees, "it was… mostly unpleasant."
Clarke's throat feels tight. She's talking about the kiss.
"Yeah. Unpleasant," Bellamy agrees with a laugh. It's the nicest thing he's said all night.
Clarke feels a shift. This is the most pleasant the three of them have been with each other since their engagement started. She doesn't want to get chatty, or friendly, with Lexa.
"Stay on your side," she reminds Bellamy, and then louder, so Lexa won't try and talk to her, Clarke says, "goodnight."
She pulls the blankets up over her head, and tries not to think of anything at all.
When Clarke wakes next, it's from a dead sleep. And she wants to keep sleeping. She's warm, and soft with sleep. She stretches, and nuzzles into the fur under her head. If she wakes up much more, there's an ache in her whole body that will turn to pain, she knows, so she snuggles in and tries to sleep the edge off. Bellamy makes a soft noise behind her, disturbed by her stretch, and she feels the movement of his fingers where they're loosely curled at her stomach. Because his arm is around her waist because he—
Clarke freezes. Bellamy is… on her side of the bed. He's so close to her that she can feel the heat of his body, his breath on the back of her neck; that his chest is against her back, his knees tucked up behind hers.
It's been so long since she's woken up beside someone. Yesterday morning's unfortunate wake-up aside, when she'd been disoriented, terrified, and smothered by both Bellamy and Lexa. Compared to that, this is… almost nice.
Clarke sits on that thought. Because she knows her next thought is how upset she is that she wanted Bellamy to stay on his side. But she didn't wake up with Finn's blood in her thoughts, so, she tries to stay with the nice feelings.
There are candles lit, but no sign of Lexa. She must have gone out. Maybe it's morning? It's hard to gauge time without the sun to go by.
Clarke rolls onto her back so she can look at Bellamy. The movement bothers him, and he's so close to her that he nuzzles his face into her shoulder and keeps sleeping. He looks ill, with blood still dried on his face. He's bruising from the fights yesterday, and his hair is tangled and unwashed. Clarke doesn't think she looks much better.
Relaxed with sleep, he finally looks like her friend again. It's like he becomes someone else entirely when he's angry. Or, at least, when he's angry with her. Clarke has appreciated, and used, Bellamy's anger before. It's a force to be reckoned with.
They used it to take Mount Weather. Clarke looks past Bellamy to the room around them. She and Bellamy killed everyone who lived here. They'd done it together. To save their people. And now they're saving them again. Together, but not in the way Clarke wants them to be together.
She's thinking too loudly, and she sees Bellamy scrunch up his nose before he blinks his eyes open. Clarke realizes too late that she's staring at him. That they're practically face to face. She braces for him to yell at her.
"Hey," he mumbles.
"Hey," she repeats.
He's mostly asleep still, as evident by how he closes his eyes and sighs like he's going back to sleep, and she feels the unconscious flex of his fingers as if he's thinking of pulling her closer. She flinches at the touch.
"Sorry," he mumbles, and rolls onto his back, away from her. Clarke feels the absence of his body heat.
Now Clarke feels too awake to be here. She pushes herself to a sitting position, but Bellamy is too close to her, and she jostles him. He groans, and opens his eyes again to look around.
"Where are we?" he demands. His foot, under the blankets, brushes up against hers. Clarke feels hyper aware of the heat of him where they're touching.
Clarke waits a moment. She'd been confused when they woke up in the night, but it should—
"Clarke?" he says, and his voice is raspy with sleep, "where are we?"
"Mount Weather," Clarke says, "don't you remember—"
She cuts herself off. He's concussed. He probably doesn't remember much of last night.
"We made it," Clarke says quickly, "last night. We got into Mount Weather, and closed the door. You were hurt pretty bad on the fight in, and might have some short-term memory loss."
It's better this way, she realizes, because now Bellamy has no chance of knowing that she kissed Lexa last night. Even if it was an accident.
Bellamy frowns as he thinks, and groans and rubs a hand down his face, "Yeah? Maybe. Explains the headache."
"I think it's morning," Clarke says, "I'm gonna go see what's going on. You should keep resting."
"Octavia?" Bellamy blurts out, and he must scare himself with the thought, because he sits up quickly, "she was— she was hurt. With the wolves. Where is she?"
"I don't know," Clarke admits, "but I can find out."
"I have to find her," Bellamy says, and then he pauses as if he's only just realized that the two of them are tucked into bed together. Does he remember changing his clothes, or is he having a moment like Clarke's panicked wake-up when she'd been stripped and in bed with them?
"Did Lexa…" he trails off.
"She slept down there," Clarke says, and nods to the pile of furs near their feet. She leans away from Bellamy. He's too close to her, "you were supposed to stay on your side."
"Sorry," Bellamy says with a shrug, though he doesn't sound like he means it, "it's a bad habit."
Clarke gets to her feet, and hisses at the cold air. Bellamy has to put his head between his knees to compose himself before he tries to stand.
"Stay," Clarke insists, "you need to rest. I'll check in on Octavia."
"She's my sister," Bellamy says.
Clarke doesn't understand why he's being so stubborn about this. She says as much, and adds, "What are you going to do? Puke in a bowl beside her? You need to rest so you can—"
"I'm finding my sister," Bellamy snaps, and Clarke can almost see the change in him as he goes from being friendly to being angry. He gets so angry about Octavia all the time. Having a sibling must be exhausting if that's all they do. Why would Founders have more than one child if siblings just get angry all the time? Or maybe that's why the Founders always wanted to kill each other. They were all angry siblings.
"Fine," Clarke says. This isn't a fight she needs. She gets her boots on, and leaves Bellamy to be angry by himself.
"Could it be molting?" Kane offers.
Clarke looks down at the two dead wolves on the back of the wagon. They'd been collected from the fight on the river—waste not, want not, as the original grounder saying went.
"No," Po says, "they lose clumps of fur in the spring, when it is warm and they don't need thick coats for winter. See how it has fallen out in chunks? They are sick, or it was ripped out."
Clarke is thankful it's just them. Lexa had been with them, originally, but Indra just arrived with the few survivors that were still with her on the outside. They'd been slowed down by Huxley, who'd taken an arrow, but he was expected to make a full recovery. Lexa had gone to get information from Indra about their enemy.
The wolves still look huge, even in death. Their open mouths show huge teeth, and their long tongues hang limp and slightly frozen from hours of exposure. Clarke is wary to get too close, but she wants to inspect the rings of bare skin around the wolves' throats.
"And you don't know of any disease that does this?" Clarke asks, gesturing to the naked spot. While both wolves show signs of mange around their throats, Lexa had nearly decapitated one of them during the fight on the river, and the open wound has mangled any sign of infection that Clarke might have been able to find. The other wolf has an arrow in its eye, and exiting out the back of its head, and its brains have oozed out both wounds. It smells awful.
Po shakes his head, "Just sickness. Wolves do not attack large groups of people. We are too difficult to be prey. If there were less of us, then maybe. They will eat elderly, or children, when they are very hungry."
"We had a lot of elders and children," Kane points out.
Clarke climbs over the side of the wagon, keeping one hand on her dagger. The wolves are dead, she reminds herself, they aren't about to get up and bite her head off. Were they alive, they probably could. Her stomach churns at the memory of Wick's expression as the wolf bit into his throat. As awful as it was, Clarke hopes that had killed him. She hopes he didn't drown.
The wolf fur is thick, and surprisingly coarse to the touch. It's softer underneath and creates a weird sensation of rough-not rough on her hand. Clarke takes a torch from Po to hold closer to the wolf so she can inspect the skin. She can't see any parasites, or signs that the fur has been ripped out in a fight. But the skin does look raw, like it has been rubbed.
"Could they have scratched it off?" Clarke asks.
Po shrugs, "Maybe? There are many things in the woods that would make a wolf itchy."
Clarke looks back at the skin. She's seen this particular pattern of rubbed-raw skin before, or at least something very familiar. It takes her only a moment longer to remember.
"It looks like our wrists—like the wrists of the kids who wore their bracelets for a long time. See—the skin is chafed. There was something tight around this wolf's throat," Clarke points to guide Kane and Po's eyes.
"You think someone had this wolf tied up?" Kane asks.
"Possibly in a trap," Clare offers.
"All of them were in a trap? Tied up? Too unlikely," Po says.
"Trikru does not hunt wolves with snares," Lexa says, joining them. Indra is with her, "a snare is a trap that goes around the neck," she explains for Clarke and Kane.
"Good for rabbits and small animals," Po adds.
"I'm not saying it was your snare," Clarke says, "Azgeda has been in your territory for a while. Maybe it was them?"
Lexa shakes her head, "Azgeda comes from the cold land. They use spears and nets for hunting, not snares."
Indra moves closer to examine the wolves. She pulls a clump of fur out to sniff it and makes a disgusted face.
"They smell like smoke," she announces, "your torches have erased their smell."
Clarke doesn't appreciate being called an idiot, "What could you have learned from their smell?"
"Indra," Lexa says warningly. Indra hands off the fur to Lexa. Lexa has her arm in a sling to keep from jostling her injured hand, and her hand is heavily wrapped. Clarke's mother confirmed it was only bruising, and possibly a minor fracture, but there's nothing to be done but let it heal.
Lexa sniffs the fur herself and makes a face at whatever she smells. She steps closer to Kane to hold the fur into the light of his torch and contemplates it.
She glances at the wolves, "they are young," she says, "they are still learning how to hunt."
"What gives that away?" Kane asks.
"Pakstoka are smart. They break up herds and eat the sick or the wounded," Lexa says, "they work together to bring down large prey. These wolves had no such form or planning. And they are too small to be adults."
"Small?" Clarke echoes. The wolf's canine fang was nearly as long as Clarke's finger. The wolves are, from nose to tail, as big as a man. They probably weigh more than Clarke does. How much bigger can wolves get?
"I do not think they are from here either," Lexa says, "the wolves that hunt in our forest have different fur. There is more red and gray, and they are darker. These wolves are from a different territory."
That makes sense to Clarke, with what she remembers from Earth Skills, "Yeah, wolves like territories. They mark boundaries and everything," she says, "maybe these ones were trying to find a new territory?"
"Maybe," Po says, "maybe not."
Everyone looks over to him.
"Po?" Clarke prompts.
"I have travelled far," Po explains, stroking his blonde beard, "and I have seen many things, and heard many more stories. So, I cannot confirm, because I did not see them with my own eyes, but I know there is talk that the animals of Azgeda's land are white. The fox, the bear, the wolf and even the birds all become white in the winter. And," Po pauses for a moment, "if these are not Trigedakru wolves, they are very white wolves indeed."
"Do you suppose Azplana is forcing the wolves from her territory?" Lexa asks.
Po bows his head respectfully, "I do not know much of the politics of the north, so I cannot speak for or against Azplana, only what I have heard about her."
Lexa narrows her eyes at Po and he hastily adds, "But I hear that she is cruel and unforgiving like the winter. If these rumors are true, I would not be surprised that the pakstoka flee from her."
"But what if they weren't running," Clarke says suddenly, thinking as she speaks, "the wolves— the first time might have just been coincidence. But then they showed up again, with the Azgeda warriors."
"You think that Azgeda brought the wolves?" Kane clarifies.
"Wolves and humans are enemies," Lexa says, "they do not hunt together, that is against nature!"
"Not always," Kane explains, "before the war, humans had domesticated wolves into an entirely new species. They lived together in the same house."
Indra snorts, and Po actually laughs at the idea. Clarke sees Lexa's eyebrows raise, which is tantamount to her having the shock of her life.
Indra speaks for the grounders present, "Wolves kill humans, and humans kill wolves. Why should a human want a pakstoka in their home?"
"Dogs used to be used in warfare," Kane continues, "and in hunting. They would flush out prey, or pull people off of horses so that they could be killed."
"No one in their right mind would invite a wolf into their home," Lexa says, and there's a curl to her lip that seems like she might be on the verge of laughing at the absurdity of the idea, "it is madness. You invite death to feast on you."
"Not a grown wolf," Clarke says, "you said these were young wolves? What if someone had them from babies? Maybe the markings on their neck are from collars?"
"Wanheda, you cannot be serious? Suggesting that Azgeda sent these wolves after us?" Po says. He sounds like he could start laughing all over again at any moment.
"Maybe they've figured out how to tame wolves," Clarke shrugs, "it seems like a reasonable explanation for their weird behavior."
"No earthborn would ever keep company with wolves," Lexa says decisively, "wolves and humans do not mix except to fight one another. We respect their strength, but we know that they would turn their fangs on us at any moment. Maybe the humans in the past commanded wolves, but it is impossible now."
Raven can't sit up without help, and she's struggling for every breath. She looks small, wrapped in Wick's large jacket.
"Of course I'm good to go," she lies, and has to stop to cough.
Sinclair frowns at her like he's disappointed she can't lie better. He looks to Clarke and her mother and shrugs helplessly.
"I'm sorry," he says, "I can do my best to try and get the backup generators working again, but that's still going to be minimal power. I can't get the main generators fixed without Raven."
"You have a team," Mom insists, "surely Raven doesn't make that much of a difference—"
"She does," Sinclair says, defensive like he thinks Mom is insulting Raven's worth. Clarke knows that Mom adores Raven.
She doesn't have time for petty fighting. She gets enough of that from her fiancés.
"You heard the man," Raven rasps. Her skin is ashen, and she's got a fevered sweat, "put me in coach, I'm ready to work."
"No," Mom says.
"Mom's right," Clarke agrees, "Raven we can't risk you getting worse. Sinclair, you said you can't do anything until you get a look at the generators. So that's what you'll do. Raven can't come with you right now, but we need to get started on getting power here."
Sinclair nods, "I'll see what I can do."
"The dam is exposed," Abby points out, "it's dangerous to send a team there."
"We need to have power," Clarke says. She agrees, but Mount Weather is just a tomb if they don't get the power running.
Sinclair breathes out heavily, and pats Raven on the shoulder, "Hurry up and get better, kiddo."
"I'll clean up your mess soon enough," Raven smiles for him, but it looks like a grimace.
Without electricity, most of Mount Weather is nearly inhabitable just for the fact that it's pitch black. None of the groups have made their way in further than the main entrance, even though there are plenty of beds and rooms available for the taking just a few levels down. The two groups have tried staying as separate as possible, but it's hard to do in the cramped space. Clarke thinks it's only a matter of time before some infighting breaks out. The sooner they can make the facility comfortable, the sooner everyone can relax and start building a life.
Mom, Kane, and Lincoln went on an expedition earlier this morning to find the medical wing. While Lexa and her people had taken lots of the medication, Mom wanted to see the state of the equipment. She's excited about having a functioning lab again, and told Clarke that they're going to have to learn about a lot of new equipment. It sounds like a lot of fun. Clarke and her mother spent a lot of time up on the Ark reading through medical journals and quizzing each other on procedures.
That was when they lived together. It already feels like there's a gap growing between them simply because they will no longer be sharing a home.
"This is stupid. I should be doing something," Raven mutters, and slumps back in the makeshift bed she's been tucked into.
"This is how you get better, so that you can save us all," Mom tells her. She kneels down beside Raven to kiss her temple, and Clarke sees Raven lean into the comfort.
"I'm sorry, baby," Mom says gently, and Raven looks away rather than admit she's tearing up again.
"I'll see if I can find a book for you," Clarke offers.
"Thanks," Raven chokes out.
Mom and Clarke finish checking up on who they can. Mostly everyone just needs rest, and good rest, in a warm bed. Once they get lights, once they can find their way through Mount Weather, that will all be possible.
At some point Bellamy made his way into the temporary sick area. Clarke isn't sure if she heard him or someone else throw up, but, when she looks in his direction she sees he's curled up beside Octavia like he's sleeping again.
Some of Lexa's people had found what they claimed was bear scat, and so a team had been sent to find out if there was a bear living somewhere in the dark. That would be an unfortunate surprise.
Clarke gets a moment alone with her mom later, when Jackson orders both of them to go get something to eat.
"I want to apologize," Mom says, and for a split-second Clarke thinks back to what felt like every single person in Camp Jaha coming up and apologizing to her for sleeping with Bellamy. Suddenly Clarke doesn't feel very hungry.
"I was wrong," Mom admits, and she pauses a moment before she says, "I was going to object, at your wedding, to Lexa."
An objection is a big deal. It's almost unheard of, because it puts the entire marriage into jeopardy. The Council would have to look into the relationship, and the people involved, to determine if they really were worth the resources allotted to a married couple expected to grow the population. If this had been a real marriage, of someone Clarke actually loved, Clarke would have felt like this admission was a betrayal. Now she wants to cry, because it means her mom can tell she's faking. And she wants to save her.
"I thought it was impossible for Lexa to care for you, and that she must be tricking you somehow," Mom goes on, "but then, yesterday— Clarke, she— I don't know how she did it. But she saved your life. And Raven's. I've never seen anything like it."
Clarke doesn't remember it. But she walked across the ice. She felt how sturdy and thick it was. For Lexa to have broken through it on her strength alone…
"Regardless of what happened between you two, I can see she cares about you," Mom says, and she draws her lips into a tight line before she says, "and now it's making me question Bellamy."
Now that surprises Clarke. Everyone already thought she and Bellamy were in love.
"Lexa has proven that she cares about you," Mom says, "and when I think of Bellamy… his only care is his sister."
Mom says the word like it's unfamiliar to her. Clarke doesn't blame her. She only knows about it because of learning about Founder family units. There aren't any siblings on the Ark, because it takes up too many resources.
"How does that work?" Mom asks, "because to me, and to a lot of people, it looks like he loves Octavia more than you. Is that wrong?"
No, Clarke wants to say. It's clear that Bellamy is free with his affection and sex because he knows he can never truly fall in love, because he already loves his sister too much for anyone else to matter. Clarke doesn't, can't, understand that. But she needs to keep her Mom from objecting to anything.
"Bellamy's special," Clarke says, "he has such a big heart, Mom." At least that is true, "he loves me. And he loves Lexa. I know that. And he does care about Octavia, but, it's different for siblings. He's tried explaining it, but, it," and Clarke shrugs and smiles, and hope she looks sincere, "it's kind of weird, but, we're good with weird."
Mom doesn't look entirely convinced, "It doesn't bother you that he's… like that? About—"
"He already loves two of us," Clarke reminds her, "I think he's got more love in him than anyone I've ever met."
And rage, Clarke thinks to herself. If only any bit of his kindness or affection could extend to her, and they could be friends again. She thinks briefly to how soft he'd been this morning, tempered by sleep. It had been nice, for those short minutes, to have her friend back.
"Just trust me," Clarke insists, "there's nothing to object to. I've never been happier."
"Of course, I trust you," Mom says, and Clarke's heart breaks a little. She wishes this could be a genuine conversation, that she didn't have to lie to her mom. But that's what earth has done to her. What it does to all of them. It's been nothing but pain, and, well. Clarke bears it so they don't have to.
Lexa finds Clarke later in the day. Sinclair and a team of engineers still healthy enough to work, as long with a security detail, have only left a few hours ago. It's dangerous to send people out, with Azgeda soldiers hunting them in the woods, but it's more dangerous to be sitting without power.
"What does it take for your marriage ceremony to be legitimate?" Lexa asks.
Clarke wasn't expecting that question. She's been so busy trying to keep people busy, trying to ration resources until they can get the facility running, that she hasn't had time to think about that. They'd done the promising ceremony for Lexa's people, but have yet to think about the proper steps for an Ark marriage.
"A— a wedding takes a while to plan," Clarke says, "like, at least a year—"
"We must get married tonight," Lexa says.
"What?" Clarke demands, "no— we don't even— that's stupid. We don't even have proper homes yet, how can we—"
"For morale," Lexa insists, "you said your people like weddings. That they are celebrations. it will be good for them."
"Since when did you care about my people?" Clarke demands.
Lexa looks around, and thankfully no one is listening in on them. She nods her head, and leads Clarke away. As soon as they step away from the fires set up around what's become the Main Camp, it feels like they're the only two people in the whole world. Po follows at a safe distance.
"Indra received word from the Azgeda soldiers," Lexa admits.
Clarke feels fear crawl up her spine, "They spoke to her?"
"They caught her," Lexa admits, "the only reason she survived was to pass along a message."
"What message?" Clarke asks.
"There is to be a Summit in Polis," Lexa says, "several clan leaders are gathering. I must be there."
"It's a trap," Clarke insists, "Azgeda blew up the bridge— don't you remember that log in chains? They want to kill you."
"The Summit comes with a peace treaty. No blood can be spilled in Polis. It is law," Lexa explains, "besides, I am Heda kom kongeda. If I do not go, I am no Heda."
"So why do we need the marriage—"
"To prove our commitment, to your people and mine. I need one of you to be at my side for the Summit, and the other must stay here to lead. Bellamy is unfit to ride, so you will have to come with me," Lexa says, "if we are married, and united, then our two people become one under our leadership. It will hold the alliance until you and I return from the Summit, to show the other Clans that we are a united force."
"What about 'this is a trap' didn't you hear?" Clarke demands, "and now you want me to go with you? Are you insane?"
"Azplana is invading my territory! She has broken our treaty," Lexa growls, "if I do not show myself, and demand justice, she will take these lands and we will be prisoners in our own home."
It's a power play. Clarke can see the politics of it. Factions sometimes did this on the Ark, undermining specific members on the council to give other members more power.
"I do not like it," Lexa admits, "but Azplana believes us to be weak. We must show her that she is wrong, and that we have never been stronger."
"If we have a wedding tonight..." Clarke trails off. How can she even explain that it's impossible to do? There's gift-giving involved, there's supposed to be a big feast. Dancing, music and even some alcohol permitted. It's a joyous occasion, with a celebration that can last for days.
She doesn't think there's anyone here who wants to celebrate. The air is so foul that Clarke almost would rather risk living outside than keep breathing it.
"For our people," Lexa insists, "we do this for them."
It's a reminder, and effective at that. This is survival. This is what it's all about. Clarke is marrying into the grounder politics, and she needs to start paying attention to them. She won't be pushed around in her— their— own territory.
"Okay," Clarke decides, "I don't know what help I'll be at the Summit, but I'll be there. And I... god, there's a lot of planning to do. Weddings don't— they've never been done on such short notice. It's not going to be good."
"We will do our best," Lexa says, and softly, she adds, "thank you, Clarke."
"It's not for you," Clarke reminds her.
Lexa squares her shoulders, like she's changed her mind from reaching out to touch Clarke, "Of course. Is there anything I can do to help with preparations?"
Clarke and Wells used to spend much of their childhood hours planning their wedding. When they'd been really little, they were sure that the two of them would get married. They knew how they wanted the lighting to be, even the time of year so that the Ark would be in the right orbit to see specific constellations and continents. Clarke was always keeping an eye out for clothing worn ragged enough that she would be allowed to repurpose into a dress.
She'd often dreamed about dancing with her father, and her mother, at her wedding. At how happy she would be to have all the people she loved there with her.
But then her father died, and she thought Wells had killed him. And then she'd forgiven Wells in time for him to die too. She'd started thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she and Finn might be right, that they would get married and...
And Clarke killed him too.
Now she gets to plan a wedding with no resources, in the tomb of the entire colony of people she murdered, and she gets to marry two people who can't stand her.
It's a fitting punishment.
"Food," Clarke decides, "we— we probably won't get electricity in time. So, there won't be any lighting, or music. If we can have a lot of food, that will help boost morale."
"We have music," Lexa offers, "I did not know there was music in space."
Clarke's curious now what grounders consider music. She's thinking of the recordings and music files kept in the Ark system. There weren't any instruments on the Ark, though Clarke had learned of them. Do grounders have instruments? Do they dance?
It's weird to think of grounders as anything but violent.
"Okay," Clarke agrees, "music, and food. If there's dancing..." she thinks everyone might be too exhausted, and sick, to celebrate, but they can try, "then maybe we can pull this off. I'll talk to Kane. He can... he can officiate."
"Is there anything I have to prepare for?" Lexa asks.
"There's usually gift-giving, between the people," Clarke says, and shakes her head, "I don't... I don't think we even have anything. Usually you're supposed to try and make something, but we don't have time—"
"Will there be objections if I do not have gifts?" Lexa asks.
"It's traditional to give gifts," Clarke says, "something personal, to show that you know each other well."
"Then I will have gifts," Lexa says.
Clarke scrubs a hand down her face, "This is... this is a lot."
"It is difficult now, but we can do this. Together," Lexa says.
Clarke wants to tell her off, to establish some distance between them again. She wonders if Lexa is going to talk about the kiss last night.
"How's your hand?" Clarke asks instead.
"I will recover," Lexa says, "how are you?"
Clarke feels like she got trampled by a whole herd of horses. Her whole body aches, and her hands still feel stiff from freezing yesterday.
"I'll survive," she says.
"Of course you will," Lexa says. She sounds proud of that.
"You can't be serious," Kane says.
"I think it will be great for morale," Clarke lies, "what better way to celebrate making it to Mount Weather?"
"Why not wait a few days, when everything is secure, and we can do a proper celebration," Kane insists.
Clarke shakes her head, "No, we have to get married tonight. We don't want to wait."
Actually, she hasn't told Bellamy yet. Lexa left that detail to her. Because even Lexa knows that Bellamy is going to be pissed about this, and she's happy to let Clarke deal with his anger. Just one more thing on Bellamy's growing list of reasons to hate Clarke.
She wonders if she should start a list of her own against him. Item number one: he's stupid.
Which isn't fair, really. Bellamy is always surprising her with how smart he is. But when he gets mad, he gets so focused on his anger that he stops seeing the big picture. Hence, he's smart, but then he's also really dumb. Also, he likes to snuggle in his sleep, even when Clarke told him she didn't like it.
This is a bad list.
Kane looks like he has more to say, but Clarke is in charge now, and she's known Kane since she was born. She puts on the pressure, "We wanted you to do it, Uncle Kane, because we trust you. But, if you don't want to—"
"No, no," Kane interrupts, and he looks surprised by the familial term. Clarke hasn't called him that since she was six. Kane used to be friendly with her family, and then he was promoted to the Council and he and Mom couldn't get along.
"I'll do it. Of course. If that's what you want."
"We do," Clarke says, and smiles. It's a big honor to officiate a wedding, and since they stripped him of his Chancellor duties, Clarke wants to keep Kane as close as they can. While he and Mom were always at odds on the Council, Clarke has a lot of respect for his authority, and he's proven to be willing to work with and be friendly with the grounders. They need people like him on their side.
"It's going to be the first wedding on earth," Kane remarks, "when we dreamed of coming home I… I never realized I'd get to see it myself."
"First wedding between Earth and Ark, too," Clarke reminds him.
It's unfortunate that it's in such horrid conditions, but, that's survival.
Bellamy hasn't left Octavia's side. In fact, it looks like he's sleeping beside her when Clarke goes to inform him of their new evening plans.
"Any change?" Clarke asks.
Bellamy blinks awake, and he still seems a little disoriented. Lexa was right, there's no way Bellamy can go anywhere in this state. Clarke wonders if it's safe to leave him in charge of things in their absence. She'll have to talk to Mom and Kane, to make sure they're able to pick up Bellamy's slack.
"She almost woke up, a little while ago," Bellamy says, and he sounds so proud and happy that Clarke thinks maybe he's done being angry.
Clarke's happy to hear that too. When Octavia is better, then maybe Bellamy will stop being so angry and actually start helping Clarke be a leader.
She crouches down beside him, so no one can hear her, and says, "We need to talk."
Bellamy's smile falls, and Clarke can tell he's already mad, "Fiancé stuff?"
"Yeah," Clarke says, and dares to admit, "you're not gonna like it. Follow me."
She heads off, with Bellamy following a moment later. He's gotten his balance back, though he's shuffling a bit. Clarke feels a little bad for him. He's gotten really beat up the last few days. And he's not even thinking about himself, he's just always going on about his sister.
Clarke tries to understand that. Because it's not a romantic love. She tries to think if she was in his shoes, and it was... her mom? Dad? Who was sick. Is that what it's like to have a sibling?
Po and Tara stay at a distance. Clarke wonders how much Lexa trusts them with their secrets, as they must have overheard something by now. But maybe it's something best left unsaid— if they don't tell Po and Tara to stay quiet, then, they can all pretend to be ignorant. Po starts chatting with Tara, giving Clarke and Bellamy some privacy.
"What?" Bellamy asks.
"We're getting married. Tonight," Clarke says.
Bellamy's stunned into a stupor. He blinks once, twice, and then opens his mouth.
"Say that again?"
"Lexa needs us to get married tonight," Clarke explains, "because she and I have to leave for a grounder Summit tomorrow morning, and you have to be in charge."
"Not wasting any time, are we?" Bellamy scoffs, and shakes his head, "we can't— how are we supposed to have a wedding in a few hours? That's impossible!"
"We have to make it—"
"And you're leaving? With her? Are you insane?" Bellamy demands.
"The Ice Nation is making a play for power," Clarke says, "like it or not, this affects us. Lexa and I are going to see what's going on, and push them back. Lexa said the Summit will be safe—"
"She said the river would be safe and you almost drowned!" Bellamy points out, "you can't trust her—"
"I'm not!" Clarke snaps, "but you've been no help since I got back! I'm doing the best I can!"
Bellamy breathes heavily through his nose, "This is a bad idea, Clarke."
"You're staying behind, here, to keep things in order," Clarke explains, "I'm trusting you to keep everyone safe, and make sure the grounders don't take over."
"I'm staying because I can't ride a horse," Bellamy says, "don't lie to me."
Clarke doesn't argue with him, "I've got food, and music taken care of. We need to come up with gifts."
Bellamy groans and drags a hand down his face, "I forgot. Shit. What the hell can we even gift?"
Clarke shrugs, and gestures around, "We're... there's lots of stuff here. I figured I might try and raid a room to find something."
Bellamy nods, "Yeah. That's a good plan. Think they'll have any poison I can give Lexa?"
He laughs at his joke. Clarke doesn't find it funny.
"We don't have a lot of time," Clarke points out, "and we should probably go together."
Bellamy looks off into the darkness of the mountain. it's so quiet ahead, with the noise of the main camp behind them.
"Sure," he agrees, "I'll let Lincoln know to look after O."
"This sucks," Bellamy mutters. Clarke doesn't blame him. The deeper they go, the worse it smells. They both have their faces covered with perfumed masks to try and help, but it doesn't do much. Once the air filtration system is active, things will be better. But until then, it's awful.
Po and Tara have gotten quieter the deeper into Mount Weather they go. While Clarke's used to grounders being reserved and soft-spoken, she can tell that both of them are nervous. They're keeping hands on their weapons, and keeping their backs to the walls.
The warehouse, down a level into the mountain from where Main Camp was set up, feels like a whole different world.
"Were you both prisoners?" Clarke asks.
"Yes, Wanheda," Po says, "it... it does not make any of us happy to return here."
"I'm glad they're dead," Tara says, and spits on the ground, "serves them right, the savages."
Weird to hear the grounders, who live such violent lives, call the Mountain Men savages. The people of Mount Weather are possibly the closest to Founder Culture that Clarke's ever seen. They were supposed to be the height of civilization.
It also makes Clarke sick to think that she's the reason everyone here is dead.
"Your sister was a prisoner too, right?" Bellamy asks Tara.
Tara bares her teeth, "Yeah. They kept her in a cage from the moment she was born."
Clarke wishes they would talk about anything else.
They find a section of the warehouse with lots of domestic items in boxes. Possibly from someone's living quarters, that maybe they emptied out? Packed up all of their things to store them in the warehouse? Clarke wonders, again, what it was like to live in Mount Weather compared to the Ark. Compared to being a grounder.
"Should I... what do you even want?" Bellamy asks.
In theory the gifts should be a surprise, but Clarke supposes this is as unorthodox as their entire marriage.
She shrugs, "I... I don't even know. Do you know what you're getting her?"
"A rope," Bellamy mutters, and Clarke already knows he means to hang her with.
She wants to tell him to not do something stupid, but she's tired of covering for him. If he decides to cause a scandal at their wedding, that they need to go smoothly, then that will be on him to clean up his mess.
Bellamy goes to one corner to start searching through the shelves. Clarke searches through the boxes in another place. She knows everyone here is gone, that this is going to be her home now, but it still feels wrong to be looting through other peoples' things. Especially their private things.
She finds a glass globe. Inside is a figurine of a... horse. It's white, and has big wings, and a horn. So, not like any horse that Clarke has ever learned about. The figurine sparkles in the torchlight, and when Clarke moves it, there's small white sediment inside that floats around. Clarke thinks it's pretty. Lexa likes horses, right? Is this good enough?
And what to get for Bellamy? A helmet she thinks, and laughs at her own joke.
She doesn't find anything better. Bellamy and Tara rejoin her and Po, and he sits down on a crate. He's got stuff shoved in a pillowcase.
"I don't think I can go any more," he admits, and rubs at his eyes, "I'm wiped."
"Find anything good?" Clarke asks, and sits down beside him.
"Here," he says, and hands her a small box, "you can give this to me."
Curiosity gets the better of her, and Clarke opens it. Inside is something black, rubbery and weirdly shaped— long, and kind of thick around with a tapered tip at one end, and a thicker base at the other. She looks to Bellamy for explanation.
He shrugs and says, "I'm no expert, but I think that's a Founder—"
"Oh!" Clarke realizes, and throws the box at him like it's burning her to touch it, "no! I am not giving you that in front of—"
Bellamy's laughing at her, "Don't be such a prude. It's the least you can do, considering I'm going to have to take care of myself from now on."
"Is that seriously all you're thinking about?" Clarke demands.
Bellamy rolls his eyes, "You aren't? Once we're married, that's it. We can't look at anyone else. And like hell I'm going near her, and you're— I don't know what your deal is, so." He shakes the box for emphasis, "I have to think about me."
"Don't you dare bring that to the wedding," Clarke says. She'll be mortified if Bellamy shows off a sex toy at their wedding.
"And I see you're back to being no fun," Bellamy snaps. He pushes himself up off the crate.
"Are you even going to clean up?" Clarke demands. She's sick of being his punching bag. She thinks of her list of reasons to be mad at Bellamy, and underlines item number one: he's stupid, "because you look awful."
Bellamy scowls at her, "I can take care of me, thanks. Why don't you worry about yourself? You're not so good to look at either."
Evening arrives faster than Clarke is ready for it. Despite her initial concerns, news of the wedding does create a change in the camp. Even Lexa's people seem interested, and Clarke hears the noise of people practicing beats and notes on their instruments. She's insanely curious, but there's too much for her to get done to take the time.
They're still waiting on Sinclair's team to return, so that they'll know just how bad the situation is, and how long it will take for them to restore power. They're supposed to be back within a few hours, and before nightfall, so they should arrive before the ceremony.
Mom also takes Clarke aside, and they debate for a bit about trying to find something for Clarke to wear, but Clarke's been digging through so many dead peoples' things today that she doesn't have the energy to do it again. Instead they use some water to try and wipe away most of the blood and grime on Clarke, and attempt to rinse her hair. It doesn't go well, and so Mom has to improvise with braids. This would be one of the times that Clarke should be sanctioned access to some of the remaining makeup leftover from the Founders, but, neither she nor Mom would know what to do with it. Kane's mother was one of the last to study Founder cosmetics, and while some of her knowledge had been passed on, most of the people who studied Founder culture seriously had died in returning to, or on, earth since.
"Are you sure?" Mom keeps asking.
And Clarke keeps lying to her.
"Of course I'm sure."
Clarke sprays herself with perfume to try and cover how badly she smells, even after washing down. She feels like the stink of the rotting bodies is going to seep into her skin and follow her forever.
There was always a debate about whether the marrying couple should see each other before the wedding. Apparently that was a Founder thing, and so the Ark tried to continue the tradition. But the lack of space on the Ark made it difficult.
In any case, Clarke does manage to avoid Lexa and Bellamy for most of the afternoon. She steals a book from the kindling pile and decides to gift it to Bellamy. Because she is not giving him his idea of a gift, not in front of everyone.
Bellamy's observation about romance sits heavy in her gut. He's right. They'll be married. It will be an absolute taboo to get involved with anyone else.
Clarke reminds herself the truth she's come to learn about herself: she is incapable of being loved. She's not meant to love, or be loved. The universe has made that clear.
And that's why she's perfect for this marriage. Even Bellamy, if she's being honest. She can see now that he loves his sister too much to ever actually be able to love anyone else. And Lexa is heartless. How unfortunate for all of them, but fortunate for their people.
Lexa finds her while Clarke is wrapping her gifts in an old shirt, so that they can be unwrapped at the ceremony.
She's tied her hair back with different braids, in some pattern that Clarke thinks must have significance or meaning to her people. She even spies the shine of metal in Lexa's hair. Lexa has also repainted her blood across her eyes once again. Clarke's going to have to have a word with her about how unsanitary that is. And ask why she does it.
She has put on her armor as well. Clarke thinks it's meant to be a sign of respect, but it looks like Lexa is preparing for war rather than a wedding. It makes Clarke happy that she didn't dress up much either. She's not getting ready for love, so no need to make a mockery of what should be a happy day.
"Are you ready?" Lexa asks.
"Yeah," Clarke says. She's acutely aware of how alone they are, with just candlelight to see by. Once again, they are alone in the darkness.
"I do not know what is entirely expected of me," Lexa admits.
"Not much," Clarke says, and gathers her gifts to her chest, "Kane will lead things. I think we just have to repeat what he says."
"That is all?" Lexa asks.
"A kiss, at the end," Clarke admits, and looks everywhere but at Lexa.
"For romance," Lexa elaborates. She'd said that when she'd kissed them at their promise ceremony in her camp.
"People will be given the chance to object," Clarke says, "we have to hope they do not. That won't be good for us, and will put the wedding on hold."
"Outsiders could overturn your marriage?" Lexa asks, and scoffs at the idea, "but you are their leaders!"
"It's tradition. In case there's a reason people shouldn't get married. Married couples get a lot of resources so that they'll have children and grow the population. So people should speak up because you don't want to waste time or resources if they're going to break up or shouldn't be together in the first place," Clarke explains.
"I thought you married for love?" Lexa asks, "that's why you and Bellamy insist on this lie."
"We do!" Clarke says, "we wanted the human population to be kept alive out of love."
Lexa snorts, "Skaikru, you are so… ruthless, and then so soft in surprising ways. If you truly wanted to ensure the survival of your people, you would choose the best lineages and allow them to reproduce. Not leave it up to love!"
"Is that how you do it?" Clarke snaps.
"No," Lexa says, "we are not barbarians."
"Neither are we."
Clarke doesn't like the implication that Lexa thinks her people are brutal. It's not Clarke's people that are raised to be violent warriors.
"Is it… is it expected that we are to reproduce, then?" Lexa asks.
For the first time she sounds hesitant.
"Theoretically," Clarke says. And her stomach twists in knots. She already had the conversation with Bellamy— neither of them want to have sex with each other, and especially not with Lexa. But… a marriage is intended to produce children. It's a waste of resources if they cannot.
"Bellamy and I both still have our hormonal implants," Clarke says, "neither of us can reproduce until they're removed. And they can't be removed until Mom's hospital wing is functional again. It will probably be a while before we have to think about that."
Lexa's shoulders relax marginally, "Good. We have too much to focus on anyways."
Clarke knows Lexa loved someone once, before she hardened her heart. It feels like so long ago that they had that conversation, when Lexa wanted Clarke to be cold like her.
Costia, that was her name. That could explain Lexa's hesitation. Maybe she's not attracted to people like Bellamy. Or, realistically, Lexa is as unattracted to Clarke and Bellamy as they are to her.
Except Clarke knows that's not true. She knows Lexa is attracted to her.
They're both startled when the lights come on.
Main Camp, still collected at the entrance to Mount Weather, is lit with damped electric lights, and filled with people gathering together. Bellamy meets Clarke and Lexa before they can get to the crowd.
"Sinclair just got back," he says. He's had a chance to wash the blood off his skin, thank goodness, but he's still got dark bruises on his face. He attempted to comb his hair back, but his curls are too wild and got loose on him. He's also changed into fresh clothes and a large woolen cardigan that he must have found in the warehouse below, because they don't look Ark or grounder in style.
"And?" Clarke demands.
Bellamy gestures up to the lights on, "The backup should stay functional, but we'll have to be sparing with it so we don't overload the system."
"But it's something," Clarke says, "what about the main—"
Bellamy shakes his head, "He said he needs Raven. It's going to take some creative thinking to get the main generators fixed and running again."
"Raven's going to be down for at least a week," Clarke realizes. That means it will be even longer until Mount Weather can be a home. And they need to find out if the crops they were growing in here survived, or the water filtration system?
"If this all hinges on her, perhaps she can make an effort before she is fully recovered," Lexa suggests.
Clarke feels her hackles go up. Raven has always put others before herself. To even suggest that Raven isn't working because Raven is being selfish?
"She's too sick, and we can't risk her getting worse," Clarke insists. She glares at Lexa, who doesn't say anything more.
"You have to focus on the water filtration, and ventilation, and getting the agriculture farms running, by the time we're back," Clarke tells Bellamy.
He scowls at her, "I know how to do my job. Worry about yourself."
"Niron," Lexa cuts in suddenly, and grabs Bellamy's hand with her good hand, "we should not talk about bad things on this day of love!"
Clarke hadn't realized Kane had walked up behind them until he speaks.
"Are you… are you three ready?" he asks, "I, uh, the rites don't technically specify the number of people involved, but, I made a few adjustments to accommodate, well…"
"Thank you," Clarke says with a smile.
She can see Bellamy tighten his grip on Lexa's hand.
"I'm so excited," Bellamy says through gritted teeth.
Kane heads into camp ahead of them. Clarke almost follows, but stops when Lexa reaches out with her broken hand. The one she hurt saving Clarke's life.
"For romance, niron," Lexa insists.
Clarke hesitantly threads her arm through Lexa's. It means she has to stand closer to Lexa than Bellamy does. This is it. It's time.
"Try not to cry," Bellamy says. If Clarke were closer to him she might pinch him.
"We're in love, and happy about it," Clarke reminds them, and recalls what Lexa said to them at their promise ceremony, "so smile, and follow my lead."
Lexa laughs, and it's more like a snarl, "Mafta op ai. Of course, Clarke."
Their people have congregated into a rough circle. People of the Ark on one side, grounders on the other. Clarke wonders if they should have tried to enforce blending of the two groups, since this entire marriage is about unity after all.
Clarke, Bellamy and Lexa walk into the middle of the circle, all linked together. Kane waits for them. On the Ark there was a stage for the couple to stand up on, so they could be seen. They don't have that here, so instead, there are furs that have been set down. They kneel on them, facing Kane.
Clarke looks out over her shoulder. She can see her Mom, and so many other faces she's come to know in her time on earth. On the other side, she can see Indra, Po, and other grounders that she hasn't met personally. The low lights of the backup generator aren't bright enough to illuminate things, and with the fires giving off moving light, it's almost a disorienting effect and makes the whole moment feel like a fever dream.
Kane begins with the opening lines. It's a standard speech, welcoming all the families and friends of everyone involved. He added on the momentous occasion that this is the first marriage between two groups of people who didn't even know the other existed a year ago.
"It was supposed to be O," Bellamy grumbles.
Clarke can't shush him from her end, but she sees Lexa squeeze his hand. Bellamy stares down at the ground, jaw painfully tight.
Clarke knew this was going to happen, but she'd expected the wedding to happen further in the future. Far enough ahead that she hadn't been thinking about it just yet. She's here now, and it feels like it's happening to someone else.
She watches the firelight on the wall above their heads. Grounders light funeral pyres for their dead, to free their souls to the sky. This can be the funeral for her heart. She has no need for it.
Clarke's startled out of her thoughts when Kane calls her name.
"Clarke Griffin, do you take Bellamy Blake as your husband, and Lexa kom Trikru as your wife?" Kane asks.
Clarke is surprised to hear him speak Trigedasleng. He must have learned Lexa's title in her language, as a means of trying to merge their cultures. Kane would be a much better Chancellor than her, Clarke thinks.
"I do," Clarke says.
Kane moves to Lexa. And asks her the same question.
"I do," Lexa vows.
And finally.
"I do," Bellamy says.
"And to the crowd, is there anyone who would dare speak against this great act of love? Yes, it is unconventional, but so is life. Can we really argue against happiness, when any of us find it? When it has brought us to a safe home, where we will grow strong?" Kane calls.
Lexa lifts her head to stare ahead. Clarke's seen that expression on her before. When she gets ready to fight. Clarke leans into her, holding tight to Lexa's arm, to try and hold her down.
Clarke should have been taking polls, to know opinions on their wedding. She should have been out and publicly declaring her love, to make people think there was nothing to fear. Instead resentment has probably grown, and Clarke fears that as soon as one person speaks, they will all start shouting. They will all know this is a sham, and the alliance will fall apart.
The silence holds. Any second now, someone will break it—
A voice calls out:
"I support the union!"
Clarke, Lexa and Bellamy all turn to look. It's Lincoln. So naturally quiet and reserved that Clarke didn't recognize his voice at first.
"I support the union!" Indra shouts, and pounds a fist against her chest. Lexa's fierce glare turns into a smile.
Clarke realizes what's happening. She stares long enough to catch Lincoln's gaze, and nods a thanks. Rather than let the dissenters speak their minds… he's created a tide of the opposite.
"I support the union!" Mom shouts, joining in.
The call picks up. Clarke thinks she even hears Monty, and Raven, from back amongst the sick. The grounders follow Indra's lead. Po and Tara join in. It's not a roaring cheer, not like a united battle cry, but it's enough.
When it's quiet again, Kane laughs, and has to say,
"Well, that was… unusual. But I take it there are no objections?"
Of course not, Clarke wants to say. Who would dare speak out against them now that there's been an entire cheer for all the people that do support it?
"Very well," Kane says, and he comes to stand in front of the three of them, "now, please stand, and greet the world as a union. And a symbol of hope for the future of mankind."
They're instructed to bring forwards their gifts. Bellamy found both of them dresses. Clarke doesn't think she's ever worn a dress in her life. Nor has she seen Lexa in one.
"I figured you could look pretty, or something," he admits as he hands them over.
Lexa gives them both fur coats. They stink, like animals, like the way everything on earth has a strange smell. But the fur is soft, and Clarke can't forget how warm Lexa's fur coat was. This is… actually a very practical gift. Clarke can see Bellamy feel embarrassed at his poor gift, and she feels the same.
Clarke doesn't want to hand over her gifts now. Because now her gifts look like an insult. But all eyes are on her, and she has to hand the book to Bellamy— it's an Atlas of the world that no longer exists. And Clarke realizes with a shock that she actually doesn't even know if Bellamy can read at all. He's from a working station, and lots of the kids there didn't get a proper education and—
And she hands the glittery globe to Lexa. It looks delicate, and out of place, in Lexa's hands. Clarke wants to hide her face.
Bellamy and Lexa do their best to look thankful in front of everyone else.
One last thing to do.
In this instance, Lexa is following her lead. Bellamy looks out at the crowd— is he looking for someone? So, Clarke leans in, and with everyone watching, cups Lexa's jaw in her hand to guide her into a kiss.
It's not the rough kiss Lexa forced on her during their promise ritual in her camp, nor is it like the desperate kiss they shared during the war with Mount Weather. It's not the accidental kiss from last night.
Lexa's mouth is warm, and her lips are soft. For all of her strength, she lets Clarke pull her in. Clarke dares to open her eyes, and finds Lexa is watching her right back. Clarke feels a chill down her spine, and something electric low in her stomach. This woman is dangerous. This woman might still have feelings for her. This woman is powerful, intelligent and unpredictable. She smells like perfume, and smoke. She's exciting in all the ways Clarke should not be thinking about.
Clarke pulls away, just as Bellamy pulls Lexa to him in a mirror of Clarke's kiss. He has to lean down to kiss her. Lexa doesn't let Clarke pull away from her. Bellamy pulls away and only because Clarke is standing beside them does she hear him say, "That one was better" to Lexa. Right. Bellamy kissed Lexa when she arrived at Camp Jaha.
And then he looks at her.
In this moment Clarke realizes she and Bellamy have been able to avoid kissing one another up until now. Months ago she'd kissed him on the cheek as farewell, when he begged her to stay. At the time she'd thought he'd understood her, that they knew one another in a way people rarely could know each other. That he understood her pain, and her need to run. She was wrong.
Lexa doesn't let either of them go, and Clarke is hyper aware of her proximity as Bellamy steps closer to her. She feels his free hand on her waist. Clarke is a little taller than Lexa, but she has to tilt her face up to match Bellamy's height.
She's the one to close the distance between them. She puts her free hand over his shoulder, to hold him for the moment. And… kissing Bellamy feels like what Clarke thought kissing should be like. He leans into her, and for a brief moment she thinks he might lick at her lips, but he keeps it chaste. Clarke keeps her eyes closed. She feels the strength of the muscles in his shoulders as he holds her against him, and for a moment she mourns how soft Finn's body was.
Bellamy pulls away and Clarke looks up at him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he stops himself and steps back, away from her, so that they're a united front for their people.
And so it is. In the tomb of the people they burned alive, rank with the scent of death and decay, with her people starving and sick and alone in the dark; Clarke Griffin marries a friend who can't stand her, and her worst enemy.
END CHAPTER 12
Can you believe it took 100k to actually get them married, in a story about a political/arranged marriage? Sometimes I wonder if I know what I'm doing, lmao.
TRIGEDASLENG TRANSLATIONS:
As always, I heavily rely on The Unofficial Trigedasleng Dictionary and thank you all for all the hard work you do making this fun language accessible!
Azgeda - Ice Clan (usually anglicized as Ice Nation, as they have the largest territory of the northern clans)
Wanheda - Commander of Death
Maun-de - Mount Weather (literally "The Mountain")
Niron - lover/beloved. Lexa has taken it up as a pet-name for when she's playing domestic with Clarke and Bellamy.
Heda - Leader/Commander (literally "The Head")
Ai laik fousen Heda - I am the rightful Commander
Kark - The Trig pronunciation of 'Clarke'. Lexa's second language is English, so when she's tired she will slip more into her first language (Trig). Technically she does have a Trig accent when she's speaking English, but it would be annoying if I wrote it out all the time, so, it's written when she's specifically speaking in Trig.
Chil au - calm down
Belomi - Bellamy's name, but "translated" to Trig. There are minor inflection differences. Again, when Lexa is tired her accent will come out stronger/she will lapse more into her first language.
Trikru - the woods clan. The grounders that the 100 have primarily interacted with so far are of the Woods Clan. Lexa, Indra and Lincoln all come from Trikru.
Pakstoka - wolf/wolves
Azplana - The Ice Queen, leader of the Ice Clan. She is the only clan leader to have such a title, as she has always been ambitious for power.
Heda kom kongeda - Commander of the Coalition
Skaikru - the grounder term for the "clan" of people from the Ark. The people of the Ark have no such name for themselves, as they never needed to differentiate themselves from Other People.
Mafta op ai - "Follow my lead". It's a recurring phrase the main trio have been using with one another.
Lexa kom Trikru - Lexa of the Wood Clan