"Bellamy, it's beautiful!" Clarke exclaimed. She looked around at her surroundings.
The full moon lit up the cliff on which they sat. The waterfall could be heard in the near distance, and the sound of crickets filled the night air.
Clarke walked forward toward the blanket that was spread across the grass. The breeze rattled the leaves of the weeping willow as she turned to face Bellamy.
"Bell, what is all of this?" She asked in shock.
"Your mom told me it was your birthday."
"My mom? Since when did you start talking to my mom?"
"Oh, we talk all of the time. We're practically best friends," he said with a smile on his face. She laughed and playfully smacked his arm.
"Oh, whatever," she said, "I don't believe it."
"Then how else would I know about this?" he asked as he pulled out a small cone-shaped hat, "I know it's not exactly pink, but it's—"
He saw the tears welding in her eyes.
"What's wrong? Did I mess something up? Because technically, Raven was the one who made this. I just asked her if she could when your mom gave me the—"
His rambling was cut off by Clarke's rising onto her toes and pressing her lips against his. They broke apart, and she pressed her forehead again his.
"Idea," he whispered, completing his sentence.
"It's perfect," she said with a smile across her face.
"Really? Because if so, I take back everything I said about Raven making it and about it being your mom's idea."
Clarke laughed.
"Bellamy, you're rambling."
"Am I?"
"Yes," she answered giggling, "I love it, Bellamy. I really do. No one has ever done anything like this for me before."
"I'm glad you love it. Now, put your hat on, and let's heat up the food so we can eat. "
He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the blanket that was spread out on the ground. She sat down while he started the small fire and began to heat up the stew.
Clarke wrapped and covered herself up in an extra blanket to keep warm. She laid back and looked up at the sky with a smile on her face.
The last time she wore her pink hat, she complained. She was seventeen; she was too old to wear a pink party hat. It was embarrassing, yet her parents made her wear it, just as they had done in the previous years.
She was pulled from her thoughts by Bellamy's voice.
"What's on your mind, Princess?" he asked as he laid down on his back beside her.
"My last birthday."
"Tell me about it."
Clarke drew in a deep breath before speaking.
"Well, Mom and Dad made me wear that ridiculous pink hat every year on my birthday. I loved it when I was little, but I absolutely hated it when I was older. Last year, my dad, he told me to quit pouting and complaining or else he'd throw a piece of my cake at my face. I honestly didn't think that he would, but he did. I started throwing it back at him, and Mom was not thrilled about cake everywhere. But the funniest part was when he was standing in front of the door, and I threw a handful of cake at him. He ducked about the same time that Wells and his dad walked in," Clarke said laughing.
"You hit Jaha in the face with cake?" Bellamy asked in both amusement and disbelief. He let out a small laugh as he looked over at her.
"Well, kind of, I hit Wells, but some of it got on his dad. Anyway, they joined in the fight, and eventually, my mom did too."
"That sounds like a really good birthday."
"It was. It's hard to believe my dad and Wells are both gone," she said, pausing, "Anyway, tell me about yours. What were your birthdays like?"
His head turned back, looking up at the sky once more. Clarke interlocked her fingers with his and moved closer.
"They were pretty much the same for me and O every year. My mom was a seamstress, but she would always make us something out of the scraps of fabric she had been saving. She'd sometimes make O a doll or headbands. Once, she made me a bookmark because I loved to read. She made me a tie, socks, just a bunch of different little small things."
"That's really sweet, Bellamy, and I didn't know you liked to read."
"Yeah, I loved Greek and Roman mythology and history. I mean, I still do, but we don't really have any—"
"Bellamy, give me your hand. The baby's kicking!"
Turning on his side to face her, he gave her his hand, and she placed it on her belly.
"I don't feel anything," he said, eagerly anticipating movement.
"Give it a second. Try pressing down harder," she said. He stared at her, "You won't hurt either of us; I promise."
He propped his head up with one arm, and he pressed his other hand firmly against her belly. His face lit up immediately at the small thump that he felt against his hand.
"We made that," he said in awe. Clarke giggled.
"Yeah, we did," she smiled, "I still can't believe we're going to have a baby in a few months."
"Me too. Hey, you know, once we figure out how to not screw this one up, let's have more."
"How many more?" she asked curiously.
"One, two, three, maybe, or even a whole village full of kids. I don't care. I just want them all, and I want them with you," he said. She laughed.
"A whole village?"
"Yes, a whole village! We'll teach them all we know about medicine and history and how to hunt and how to draw. We'll tell them stories about all that we did, the good things, and they'll learn to be brave. We'll even tell them about the bad and the ugly. They'll learn about second chances and forgiveness. We'll show them how to love. Not to mention, they'll be loved and undoubtedly spoiled by everyone in the camp."
"Okay," Clarke said with a smile.
"Okay, what?"
"I want all of that, and I want it all with you too. I want to wake up next to you every morning and to fall asleep beside you every night. I want our kids to crawl into bed with us at night when they're scared. I want them to know that we'd do anything to protect them and that we'll always love them. I want birthdays and anniversaries, even if we lose track of what day it is. I want a life, and I want a family. I want you."
"Then marry me," Bellamy said.
"What?" Clarke said. She struggled to sit up, but Bellamy helped her. He took one of the blankets and wrapped it around her, covering her back.
"You heard me. Marry me."
"I know. It just took me by surprise. We live together and everything; so, I never really thought about marriage on the ground. Do the grounders even do that or believe—"
"Clarke, for once, listen to your heart for a minute and not your head," he said. She let out a small laugh recalling the time she pointed out that she was the head and he was the heart. "It doesn't matter what the grounders do."
"Yes," she said grinning, her smile bigger than ever. Bellamy leaned over and kissed her. "We're getting married," she whispered closely to his lips.
"See, aren't you glad you listened to your heart?" Bellamy asked with a smile just as big as her.
"Very," she said as she leaned over to kiss him once more on his lips. He deepened the kiss and hands found their way to her hair. "Bellamy, I love you, but we are not about to Poquos and Arion a show right now."
"Who cares? They're not getting married," he said. Clarke let out a loud giggle before she pulled back.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. It's just someone else is a little excited."
She took his hand, placed it on her belly and placed her hand over his. He felt the baby kick again without having to wait this time.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too. Now, is the food warm enough because we're starving?"
"Coming right up."
Bellamy stood up and moved over to the fire. She watched as her now fiance dipped the stew into her bowl.
She looked up at the stars and smiled knowing that her father and Wells were looking down on her.
October seventeenth was the first day of her life and was to be the last day of her life, but fate seemed to have a better plan. Today was now one of her best days.