Thanks so much for the read guys! More to come! Please R&R!
Bellamy and Jon were enjoying their familiar pub, both seated on stools comfortably eating their meals while patrons played pool and cards in the background. The barkeep's wife was managing the place and didn't look too kindly on Bellamy when he sat down. Over the past couple weeks, he'd gotten used to it, the sneers and name-calling were almost expected. The whispering and the snickering were a little more irritating but he'd learned to live with it. He only hoped that during the arena season he could win back the crowd. This would be the first time in almost twenty years that a counseling family would compete in the summer games. Bellamy needed to train back up, to resume his normal training regimen. It had been almost four months since he'd stopped, pursuing his father's plans and his own greed instead.
"Where'd you go?" Jon asked, waving his hand in front of Bellamy's face slowly. "Hello? Bellamy?"
"What?" Bellamy asked, pulling himself from his thoughts. "What is it?"
"I was asking if you wanted to hear about the summit," Jon replied, eyeing him doubtfully.
"Not really," Bellamy sighed, shaking his head. "I can't deal with any more false-hope or failed plans right now. It's almost arena season."
"You need to hear this," Jon whispered, turning on his stool to look at Bellamy. "Even if you don't want to. It's not about you, asshole. It's about Clarke."
"Plans, talks, negotiations," Bellamy grumbled, taking a large drink of his beer after pushing away his plate. "Useless if she's dead."
"We've been assured that's she is alive and well," Jon replied, his voice low. "In case you were wondering."
"Even if that is true, there is no way Nia will allow Clarke to leave Azgeda alive. They didn't risk their men and the alliance with the coalition just to negotiate a teenage girls release!" Bellamy hissed, making the barmaid look at him gallingly.
"Just shut up and listen." Jon spat, motioning for her to refill their drinks. She did so quickly before disappearing down to the other end of the bar to clean glasses and mugs. "We've come to an agreement with the Azgeda ambassador who speaks directly for Nia. Lexa has also been sent as an ambassador for her people. They want to negotiate a cease-fire until proof can be provided that Clarke is still alive."
"They aren't going to let anyone step foot in their capital," Bellamy replied, his voice low as he glanced around the room. "And even if they did, that person is a dead man."
"Don't be so pessimistic," Jon sighed, taking a drink of his refilled cup. "Nia has agreed to hold off hostilities and to allow a delegation to enter the Azgeda capital. However, a date hasn't been decided and there's a bunch of paperwork and negotiation still needed to please the warlords and the other clans -."
"Bullshit," Bellamy growled, downing half of his beer, the floating feeling returning once again. "They just want to delay us and the proceedings, most likely until winter when the trip is too treacherous for us."
"My thoughts exactly," came a familiar voice and Bellamy whipped around on his stool to spot Raven Reyes. She had a smirk on her face, her hair tied up on her head messily. "So, how do we get around it?"
"What do you mean?" Bellamy scoffed, shaking his head. "There is no getting around it. No one knows the way to the Azgeda capital except for members of the Ice Nation."
"If that's our only problem, I have a unique solution," Raven smirked, pulling her handheld from her pocket. "I can't carry all of it on my phone. Our messages and network files are being surveyed by Monty's new hacker squad."
"Hacker squad?" Bellamy asked, gazing over at Jon bemusedly.
"They track potential security breaches in both the system and in the city itself," Raven explained, waving at the barmaid. "Some ale and a glass of whiskey." The barmaid only nodded, turning from the group to get the drinks. She was quick, obviously unwilling to be sociable with any of them.
"So, what is your solution?" Jon asked, glancing at her handheld again.
"Monty, Wick, and I came up with the idea," Raven admitted, pulling up a blueprint on her screen. She leaned in closer so only the three of them could see. Bellamy didn't want to let the hope rising in his chest overwhelm or fool him but the idea was brilliant.
"A drone," Bellamy whispered, smirking over his cup at the familiar design on her screen. "How far of a reach do you have on it?"
"So far, we've tested it as far east as Polis," Raven smirked, pointing at the antenna on the top of it. "This will allow us to track it and geographically map the border and their territory using live feed images and simple measurements."
"Polis is much closer than Azgeda," Jon pointed, glancing down the bar. "And how would we even get her out once we find it?"
"We're trying to figure out how to do thermal imaging but it is harder than expected," Raven sighed. "We don't exactly have the right personnel."
"Can you and Monty figure it out?" Bellamy asked, sounding a little more urgent. "I mean, can you at least make a beta?"
"An alpha if we're lucky," Raven sighed, shaking her head. "We just don't have the knowledge to complete it yet. Infrared isn't new technology but we don't exactly have the parts."
"We can't wait too long," Jon reasoned, looking between them. "Winter will ruin any chance we have and who knows if they'll wait that long to start their war."
"We need thermal imaging just as badly as we need a guide," Raven commented, taking a drink of her whiskey. "Luckily for you two, I know my way around a computer."
"What do you mean?" Bellamy questioned, leaning in to rest his elbows on the bar.
"I mean, I've been sifting through old data for two weeks straight. Anything I can find on Azgeda or potential intelligence gathered from military engagements as well as territorial disputes." She downed the rest of her whiskey now, pushing the glass aside for the barmaid. "And there is absolutely no clue as to how to find the Azgeda capital. I've studied what history we know, what religion, and all their imports and exports but nothing about where their capitol might be located. I've even pulled up old maps from 200 years ago but have no hints at all. I can only guess that it is north of what was once called Allegheny State Park."
"Someone has to know something," Bellamy urged, looking over at Jon. "Do you think Monty can hack into the files from Polis?"
"He probably could but I don't think he would," Jon argued. "He may not have a problem monitoring trigger words and phrases here at home but spying on another nation definitely counts as espionage."
"It does but that's why I had him look deeper," Raven replied, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. She handed it to Bellamy first and he opened it slowly, allowing Jon to view it as he read. There were two names on that piece of paper and the title of what Bellamy could only guess was a project. He recognized Monty's handwriting and felt his chest tighten at the thought of what had to come next. The project name was titled "Odysseus" and Bellamy instantly understood the objective.
The two names, however, were the real problem. The first was his own father's name but the second was Tama Marama, the name of his mother's father. Bellamy stared at it for a moment before looking up at Raven reluctantly. She was staring at him expectedly and he only sighed, rolling his eyes before handing the paper back to her. He already knew what she wanted without having to ask; he'd have to talk to his father at some point if he wanted the information he had about Odysseus.
"I don't think I can talk to him," Bellamy finally spoke, looking between them. "I'll talk to my mother and see if she knows anything."
"And if she doesn't?" Raven asked, eyeing him doubtfully.
"Then we'll have to work something out with the drone," Bellamy grumbled, finishing his drink again. "This may all come to nothing in the end. My father is a deceitful piece of shit who doesn't deserve the satisfaction of calling me son."
"He did what he thought was right," Jon warned, looking at Bellamy outrageously. "You'd have done the same thing to protect your legacy and your children."
"I never would have put an innocent girl in danger," Bellamy corrected, glaring over at him. "No matter who she was."
"Then you're naïve because no one else thinks like that," Raven replied, sipping her ale. "No one except Clarke."
"He'll say anything to gain my trust again," Bellamy argued, looking at Jon. "He knows my feelings for Clarke and will twist them to get what he wants."
"Then don't let him," Jon assured, grabbing the back of Bellamy's neck and jarring him roughly. "You've got to do this because no one else can get this information. You need to do this before it is too late to help Clarke."
"Don't you think I've considered every possible route to take to get her out of there?" Bellamy asked, his tone dangerously low. "Don't you think that I might want her out of there just as much as you do?"
"We know you want it more," Raven replied, glaring over at him. "But you've been a selfish child lately and I think it is about time you consider what is best for Clarke and Arkadia. We're on the brink of war…"
"I'm aware," Bellamy groaned, turning on his stool to lean his elbows on the bar. "I'll talk to my mother and let you know what I find out." He then stood up, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. His head was floating like a cloud as he strode to the door. He was slightly buzzed but that didn't stop him from leaving the pub, ignoring Raven's calls and jeers. He just kept walking, up the wide avenue toward the market square. It wasn't market day so the streets weren't crawling with vendors and shoppers but Bellamy still felt eyes on him from the shops and passersby. He didn't care, the force of this new information driving him to the one place he'd sworn he'd never go again.
As he entered the square he noted the various people congregating and speaking over the fountains and few vendors who'd wheeled in their goods that morning. Bellamy didn't care to make eye contact, didn't care to stop or take note of the looks he was getting. He just kept walking, across the square, up the wide alley and into a small side-street that lead between his own family grounds and the neighbor. He hadn't been home in over two weeks, only seeing Octavia when she would come visit him at Jon's apartment.
Being home, under the same roof as his father, was something he just couldn't handle. Everything in him wanted to turn around, to stop him from taking that final step through the front gate and up the drive to the mansion. He approached the house slowly, his thoughts going wild at what his mother could say. He also considered what, if anything, he would say to his father. However, when he got to the large front door he paused, staring blankly at the opaque windows and solid wooden frame.
He didn't know how long he had stood there, or what had been going through his mind but something in him just froze. It had never happened to him before but he continued to blankly stare, thinking of nothing but how anxious he was to step through that door. It wasn't fear or anger that stalled him but a genuine chill that crept up his spine and numbed his senses. He willed himself to move, to swing the door open and step through but again he was numbed by the cold bite that paralyzed his body.
He'd spent so much time debating a move that his legs had become stiff, his eyes firmly locked on the door handle. The one thought that screamed at him was that he needed to do this for Clarke. If there was any other way, he would take it but this was the only plan he'd had hope in since their failed Azgeda invasion. He had never given up, never really lost that drive to find her but he knew that it would still end with their separation. Bellamy knew, standing before this doorway that if he entered, he would not return the same. His destiny, and Clarke's, would be radically different. He would make a sacrifice that not even he was fully committed to.
He almost jumped back at the jiggle of the brass handle and the creak of the door. There, in the entryway, stood Octavia, looking up at him amusedly. She had a warm grimace on her face and a hand on her hip. "Been out here long enough," Octavia commented, a knowing look in her familiar forest green eyes. "I've been watching you on the camera for a good five minutes."
"I shouldn't be here," Bellamy offered, turning from her but before he could walk away, Octavia's arms were around Bellamy's waist.
"Come in," she whispered, her hot breath warm on the middle of his back. "Don't leave me here alone."
"I… where is father?" Bellamy asked, sighing softly.
"He stays in his office and suite usually," Octavia replied, her arms tightening around him. "Come in; mom and I were about to have lunch."
"I need to speak to mom," Bellamy pointed, turning around to look down at her. "Where is she?"
"Waiting for me on the balcony," Octavia pressed, pulling him into the foyer. Bellamy didn't resist, looking down at Octavia's cheerful smile. It had been a while since he'd been home and he knew it hurt her to have him leave. However, Bellamy wasn't going to lie to her. He'd explained everything and Octavia, who he'd always seen as a child, understood the impact of the last few month's events. She'd taken it in stride, even going so far as to suggest that she offer herself up as a bride for Roan. Bellamy quickly shut that down, the thought of Octavia being Azgeda's prisoner making him sick to his stomach.
"I'll come in but I need to speak with mother about grandpa Tama," Bellamy insisted, closing the door behind them as Octavia moved toward the staircase.
"About what?" she asked, motioning for him to follow as they both climbed the flight of stairs. "Is it about the summit?"
"Yes and no," Bellamy smirked, remembering that his sister wasn't ignorant. He'd have to get used to that but smiled when she flashed him her trademark smirk.
"Then I want to listen," Octavia insisted. "I won't interfere and I won't speak, if you wish."
"It's something she may not even know about," Bellamy pointed, cresting the stairs and following his sister into the corridor. "I'm hoping she does so I don't have to speak to father."
"He misses you," Octavia retorted, looking over her shoulder at him. "You're his son."
"And he betrayed me," Bellamy sneered, making Octavia stop just short of the glass doors that lead out onto the balcony.
"And he regrets it," Octavia reasoned. "He would do anything to help you and to redeem himself."
"Just let me talk to mom first," Bellamy sighed, massaging his neck. "We'll deal with dad when it comes to it."
Octavia only nodded before turning back around, grabbing the door handle and swinging the door out. Bellamy followed slowly, the awning over the balcony shading the comfortable iron chairs and table which was laden with plates of food. Bellamy's mother was seated in one of the chairs, gaping shocked at who was coming through the door. She then shot up, taking a few quick strides before embracing him tightly.
Bellamy wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she sniffled against his chest. He could tell that his mother missed him, not having seen him since his father was arrested two weeks ago. Bellamy pulled back slightly to look at her and she kissed his cheeks, thankfully smiling up at him.
"I'm so happy to see you," she admitted, placing a hand on his face. "Are you alright? Are you eating well?"
"I'm fine mom," Bellamy smiled, shaking his head. "I've been training again for the arena so I'm eating steadily."
"You smell of ale," she replied, wrinkling her nose. She then stepped back, moving to offer him a seat at the table.
Once they were comfortably seated, and Octavia had poured them drinks, Bellamy thought it would be time to approach the true reason he'd come. He enjoyed this time with his mother and sister but this balcony had sentimental meaning to Bellamy that tore him up from the inside.
"I was hoping I could ask you about grandpa Tama," Bellamy began but Aurora looked up at him sternly, sitting back in her chair.
"Is that why you came here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "To ask me questions? Is this about the summit?"
"Jon and Raven filled me in," Bellamy sighed, looking about so as not to be overheard. "Azgeda is willing to allow a delegation to assess Clarke's condition but there are preliminary talks and bribes that need to be made. It's a bunch of stalling by the coalition and Azgeda."
"Negotiations like this do take time," Aurora commented, grabbing her cup of tea. "And you cannot expect Azgeda to give in so easily, no matter the payment."
"Still, we must do something before winter sets in and the trip north is impassable," Bellamy urged, looking down at his hands. "Which is why Raven and Monty have been digging into the archives."
"The archives?" Aurora asked, her voice firm but soft. "There is very little that we know about Azgeda and even less about where it is located."
"It's a closely guarded secret but Raven found something that father and grandfather had worked on together for the military," Bellamy replied, his voice low but even. "It was called Odysseus."
"Like the Greek hero?" Octavia asked, looking between them. Bellamy couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at how smart his little sister was.
"Exactly," Bellamy replied, looking back at his mother. "Odysseus came up with the Trojan horse which is exactly what we need to bring Clarke home."
"I seem to recall a few long nights during the first year of our marriage," Aurora admitted, sipping from her cup. "And I remember talk of a plan that your father, at that time a Colonel under your grandfather, had been working on."
"Did he ever speak of it with you?" Bellamy pressed, watching her closely.
"Like the name suggests," Aurora began, setting down her cup. "The plan was to sneak some sort of gift or tribute into the city. However, your father was having immense difficulty finding a reliable source of information. Only Ice Nation members knew of the location and breaking them, even with torture, was impossible."
"Your father even reached out to the ambassadors of Lake People and Broadleaf but none could give him what he looked for," Aurora continued. "After months of negotiations and bribes, only one person could be found to give up the location. A former Azgeda man who sought asylum with the coalition for his family. Your father quickly met with him and offered him his protection."
"Does this man still live?" Bellamy questioned, not realizing he had leaned forward on the edge of the chair.
"I know not," Aurora shrugged. "The project was shut down when peace had been brokered between the coalition and Arkadia after the Azgeda attacks on our northern territories."
"This is all you know?" Bellamy asked, feeling slightly disappointed. "You don't know anymore?"
"No," she whispered, shaking her head dismally. "But your father will know who the man is and where he can be found."
"I'd rather not speak to him," Bellamy ground out, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink of water.
"He yearns to see you," Aurora replied, watching him sadly. "You two are too much alike; stubborn and proud to the bitter end."
"It is because of him that Clarke is in danger," Bellamy spat, glaring at the garden below. The last time he had looked at it, Clarke was standing next to him, safe and happy. Now, it felt cold almost barren and his mother must have noticed his despair, reaching across the table and placing a hand on his.
"Speak to him, tell him how you feel, and listen to the full accounting," Aurora urged, looking up into his sad eyes. "Get closure on this before it tears our family further apart."
"He's the one who tore our family apart!" Bellamy growled, looking back at her. "He didn't trust me to make my own decisions and now we're disgraced, on the verge of being outcasts in our own home."
"And yet, we still have time," Aurora urged, squeezing his hand. "Azgeda will not let Clarke leave without an equal replacement. They didn't go through all that trouble for payment or land; they want more."
Bellamy stared at his mother, disbelief evident as they sat in silence. Even Octavia, who was watching them quietly, was stunned silent. Bellamy knew what his mother was implying but the fact that she was implying it suggested that this was the only way. It had been growing in the back of his mind since she'd been taken but Bellamy hadn't found a way to initiate such a plan. Now, with this new intelligence, he may just have what he needs to rescue Clarke from the fate that was forced upon her.
"They might kill me," Bellamy whispered, making Octavia's eyes go wide.
"There has to be another way," Octavia stated, shaking her head. "There has to be a way to get you both out of there."
"They'd catch us as we fled," Bellamy stated, his voice faint. "There is a reason no one knows where the Azgeda capital is. Any potential threat or leak is quickly, and sometimes brutally, eliminated. They need a distraction, an equal exchange to be satisfied."
"What if they chase after her anyway," Octavia offered. "What if they capture both of you. The future of both our families captured by the enemy and Arkadia will be at war."
"I have to try," Bellamy sighed, looking between them. "Both to redeem our family and rescue Clarke from my mistakes."
"Speak to your father about his informant," Aurora whispered, her eyes watering slightly. "And please, come home. I hate not having you close by."
Bellamy nodded, standing up and embracing his mother, wrapping an arm around Octavia's shoulders as they hugged. It was a somber moment and Bellamy had almost forgotten how much his mother trusted him, how his sister had looked up to him her entire life. It was then that his selfishness and pride had been parted to reveal the family that he'd neglected. He felt tears well in his eyes, guilt weighing on his chest as they held one another. It was then that he understood what his decision must be, the weight of this responsibility solid like a stone that had been swallowed. It was the only way to right what had gone so wrong and to protect his family and their people.
"Speak to him," Aurora sniffled, pulling away and wiping at her cheeks. "He'll be happy to see you."
"You don't have to forgive him," Octavia whispered, stepping away to look up at him. "But you're family."
"I'll do my best," Bellamy replied, turning from them. "Enjoy lunch and I'll be back after I've spoken to him."
"Promise?" Octavia asked, watching him closely.
"Promise," he smiled, opening the glass door in front of him and closing it with a soft snap and rattle.
Clarke had been staying in Roan's suite for the past two nights and so far, she enjoyed it far more than the cramped room she'd been jailed in. The bed was larger, softer, and warmer and the view was much better. There was an actual bathroom and a small study full of carvings, furs, books, and weapons. Clarke was astounded at the amount of literature that Roan possessed but he explained that most of it were salvaged during his grandfather's youth. Clarke had started to enjoy spending time in Roan's suite, the solarium being an ideal room to really map out the city with. Clarke had to keep busy while Roan was gone during most of the day.
She'd been cooped up again but this time, she agreed that it would be safest. Letting Roya cool down and avoiding Queen Nia were important for her survival. Roan only came back to his suite at night, after the sun went down and Clarke took advantage. She'd spend most of the day looking at the books Roan had or sketching, letting her mind wander home again. She'd grab some pillows, a warm fur throw, and sit in the solarium for hours, drawing and contemplating her options. It was less stressful than before but she was still weary of any help Roan offered. She didn't trust any of them and the time spent contemplating her next move was well spent when she wasn't drawing familiar places.
She'd left her portraits behind in her previous room and had not bothered to go back. They were long burnt, used for kindling or thrown away and Clarke could only focus on what was right in front of her, what she was really fighting for. She needed out for her own selfish reasons and like anyone else, she wanted freedom. She had decided the moment that she was caged in that room that Arkadia itself was partially responsible for her abduction. Not her people but the people who Clarke had considered colleagues and leaders; they had been personally responsible in their compliance. For too long they had stood by on the edges of a precipice, watching those who clamored below with judgement unearned or deserved. Too long they had fought amongst themselves destroying the world gifted to them by their ancestors and enough was enough. Clarke had been moved to action and if she lived through this, Arkadia would never be the same.
Clarke had debated this endlessly, the good and the bad, the arguments for and against, hours spent trying to reason each side. It wasn't hatred that drove those in power to seek more, to abuse their influence. Clarke had reasoned that it was the opposite; a great love that twisted and warped the fragile line between compassion and severity. The people of Arkadia had known this life for too long, the threat of war but the luxury of protection making those who live average lives rise and fall like the seasons. They either slip into poverty and are forced to live lives of criminality or debt while those who rose above claw for smaller crumbs of an ever-expanding pie. It was maddening to think that all that prosperity and opportunity had overshadowed the criminality of humanity's greed.
Clarke had no idea what it was like to be a part of the majority; she'd had an ideal life compared to many others. Loving parents, anything her heart could desire, a good education, a great career, an invaluable skill, and the promise of a powerful and influential life for her children. Nothing was out of her reach and she had no idea what losing that felt like. What was worse was that she couldn't imagine never having that to begin with and it frightened her. It was a sickening feeling growing in her chest and she wondered if that made her a bad person. The thought of living a powerless and average life had never even crossed her mind. How do people accept the way things are without being complicit in the illusion of control?
However, Clarke did have control, even if it wasn't complete control. She had the will and the influence to be able to do something about it and she was still going to. She'd always wanted Arkadia to change for the better but up until now, she hadn't come up with a real plan. Vague concepts and general ideas didn't give her what she needed and she debated, over and over, the best course of action to take. She'd also pictured which scenario would be most likely. If Roan's plan succeeded and he really let her return to Arkadia, any move she made might be considered retaliation on the Blake family and their partners. It would also be an emotional and unwarranted interference on council affairs which would push Clarke aside at a time when peace was what was needed.
She knew she couldn't do it without her allies and her father and his fellow council members would never agree to step aside. She had to consider what was best for everyone and that included the families who had created the mess to begin with. She couldn't abandon future generations who hadn't been complicit and she couldn't afford to alienate those who held the resources they needed in the balance. There were many options to consider but Clarke knew that if her suspicions were confirmed, she'd never make it out of this fortress alive.
It was on the third morning that Roan had not left as early as he usually did. Clarke had just put on the heavy linen robe Roan had gotten for her, loosely strung around her before leaving the bedchamber to enjoy her breakfast. The quality of the food had improved since she'd been staying in Roan's rooms. She was grateful for that, looking forward to meals for the first time in the past couple weeks. However, she was stunned to see that Roan was seated on one of the plush couches in the antechamber, enjoying a mug of what Clarke assumed was warm mead.
"Good morning," Clarke said, pushing some of her hair back over her ear as she approached the couches. She unconsciously tightened the robe, tucking the sash into itself.
"It looks like it will be," Roan nodded, pointing out the high windows that allowed the morning sunshine to flood the room. "I was actually going to ask if you'd be interested in getting outside today."
"Really?" Clarke asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. She grabbed one of the pastries from the tray, munching on it as she looked up at him.
"Really," he assured, a smirk spreading over his face. "I see you're still limping slightly. Perhaps it is not a good idea to show you the stables and maybe go riding?"
"It's still too early to put stress on my leg," Clarke whispered, taking a sip from her cup of water. "But I would love to go riding. Being outside would probably be therapeutic."
"You can ride with me," Roan nodded, taking a drink from his own cup before leaning back on the couch. "We can go riding through the hunting grounds and the market if you'd like."
"I'll get dressed," Clarke nodded with a wide smile, moving to stand from the couch again. Going outside was something Clarke had been thinking about for days now but Roan stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Eat first," he nodded, looking at the food on the table. "You need your strength."
"I need to get out of this fortress," Clarke urged, grabbing a boiled egg and popping it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, looking distantly at the fireplace that was burning very low. They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, Clarke eating another roll and taking a bite of the thick ham on her plate. She had almost finished the second roll when she heard Roan chuckle, looking up at him curiously.
"You're not very good at hiding your feelings," Roan commented, looking her over. "I can see you're tense and anxious just by looking at your face."
"I've never been the person that hides their true feelings," Clarke admitted, smirking up at him. "There is no point because believe it or not, it does more harm than good."
"You should tell my sister that," Roan suggested, moving to stand. "Make sure when you get dressed you chose some warm furs and leather. It's still cold and the breeze is out of the north."
Clarke didn't need telling twice, moving as quickly as she could back into the bedroom where her clothes had been stacked. Most of it was new, given to her the first day she stayed in Roan's rooms. She didn't need help, pulling on the linen undergarments and soft leather breeches. She had pulled on her boots slowly to avoid irritating her leg but once she was fully dressed, her fur lined jacket tied around her waist, she observed her reflection. The reflective glass of the wall length mirror in front of her wasn't as finely polished as a regular mirror, warping the image slightly but she could see that the outfit fit her quite well.
She also noticed that her frizzy curls and unruly locks were in her way, falling in her face as she observed her reflection. Clarke immediately walked over to one of the nightstands by the bed, scooping up the carved hairpiece Roan had given her. It would work to hold her hair out of her face and Clarke quickly pulled up her bangs, fastening them securely with the carved flower. The teeth fit surprisingly well and Clarke bobbed her head a little to see if it would remain that way.
Roan had come in at that moment, knocking a couple of times before pushing open the door. He observed her for a minute before nodding, his own thick dark leather jacket with slate gray fur lining fitting snuggly over his chest. Clarke couldn't help but admire how noble Roan looked before her. He'd always been an attractive man but Clarke had noticed for the first time that he wasn't just attractive. Nobility, strength, and danger radiated from him and Clarke was almost stunned at how alluring that was. However, when thinking of everything Roan had, she couldn't help but compare it to Bellamy.
"Ready?" Roan finally asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Definitely," Clarke assured, moving toward him. He nodded, turning and holding the door for her as they crossed the lounge to the double doors that lead to the rest of the fortress. Clarke almost jumped when she saw Bruni standing on the other side of the doors, arms crossed and dressed in thick leather.
"You don't have to observe today," Roan said, nodding at Bruni. "I can handle it."
"Yes, your highness," Bruni nodded, bowling slightly before stepping aside.
Clarke watched her closely as Roan shut the door behind him, the small slats near the ceiling letting in the morning light. The corridor was still dim as Roan led the way toward the simple stairs he had climbed a few days ago with Clarke in his arms. Bruni was following them as they descended the stairs, Clarke moving slowly so as not to irritate her leg. She could hear Bruni's impatience without her having to speak, the irritation the woman behind her was feeling almost radiating off her. Clarke sped up as fast as she could but she still wanted to take it easy, reaching the bottom of the stairs and quickly moving out of Bruni's way.
Clarke just glared at Bruni as she passed, the tall woman bowing slightly to Roan before disappearing through a doorway down the corridor. Clarke could hear the amused chuckle that escaped Roan and she followed him back through the plushily decorated lounge she'd seen a couple days ago. Once they'd finally reached the gallery above the dining hall, Roan turned down another small spiral staircase, waiting patiently for Clarke as she descended. Once she did she realized she was in a small antechamber off the dining hall, observing the lengthy hallway that lead alongside it. It wasn't long before Roan had led her to the grand foyer that housed a massive chandelier and a few ornate tapestries. It was a large room with wooden blinds for skylights and intricate carvings around the ceiling along with massive sanded beams perched over them.
"This was once the dining hall," Roan explained, moving to the large set of double doors that lead outside. "During my grandfather's time, this is where they decided everything so this space is somewhat sacred."
"It's very beautiful," Clarke admitted, looking about. She was almost blinded when Roan swung open the doors, revealing the courtyard beyond. It was framed with square cut blocks of stone, the ground littered with small stones and pebbles that, over time, had been pressed into a cobblestone walkway. Clarke saw how the steps wound down toward the main gates of the fortress, the courtyard bigger than she'd imagined. Clarke followed Roan as he walked across the wide stone path, motioning for her to keep up as they wound their way down the pathway and around the large stone squares. Once they'd rounded back toward the fortress, Clarke spotted the large tunnel that lead from the front to the back of the keep, the outbuildings surrounding the courtyard full of life.
Clarke saw blacksmiths lifting materials, hammering metals, and stoking fires. She also saw butchers yelling at milk-maids and children playing violently in the corral. Clarke was stunned at how seriously they fought, neither child looking to be older than ten. Clarke didn't realize she had stopped to watch them until Roan had come to stand next to her, grazing her shoulder with the back of his hand.
"They start their training at eight and graduate only when they've made their first kill in battle," Roan explained, his voice solemn but full of reverence. "We usually wait until they're fifteen or sixteen before they see battle but recently they've been sent younger and younger."
"How many make it back alive?" Clarke asked, pity washing over her as she observed them.
"Half, sometimes less," Roan replied, his voice soft but even. "I was thirteen when I was sent into battle under my cousin's command. We joined with a group of twenty-eight and only ten made it back, including myself."
"We don't allow our soldiers to see battle until they are at least sixteen," Clarke condemned, her eyes meeting his. "And that is only if they are exceptionally talented."
"It's not an easy life," Roan admitted, turning from her now, heading toward the tunnel. "But it is our way."
Clarke just followed him, the sound of the two fighting children fading as they stepped into the windswept tunnel. Clarke held her jacket closer to her neck, walking slowly as Roan started to pull away. Her leg, though healing, was starting to ache. She'd soon have to rest but the biting whip of the wind had almost stolen her breath. She covered her nose and mouth with her jacket sleeve, wishing she'd have brought gloves as she pushed on behind Roan. Once she emerged from the tunnel the wind had died down and it wasn't so cold, the courtyard beyond full of straw, barrels of supplies, and horse stables. Clarke was impressed with their stock, noticing the two snowy white horses standing in the largest of the stables, looking out at her with onyx eyes.
Clarke also noted the variety of all the different horses, some swaying in their stalls, others munching on oats and hay. There were black, brown, gray, and spotted horses littered throughout the stables and Clarke immediately longed for the comfort of her own family's stalls. Roan had walked over to one of the stalls in the stable, talking in a language Clarke wasn't quite familiar with to an older but larger man. She could make out a few words and phrases but they were speaking too quietly and quickly for her to make out the conversation.
Roan then turned from the man a moment later and walked over to Clarke, a smile on his face. "My horse is saddled and ready if you want to sit over here in the stables and warm up before we ride out. She's almost done feeding…"
"What's her name?" Clarke asked, looking about at the horses in the stable, moving through the doorway into the massive wooden barn. "Which one is she?"
"Here," he motioned, walking to the second gate on the right. "Her name is Elise." Clarke walked over and peered over the gate at a massive black mare. She had silky black flanks and a beautiful black snout. She munched hungrily on her food as Clarke stared up at her, her long black mane flowing like water over her neck and back.
"She's stunning," Clarke smiled, noticing her eyes were a golden color. "What beautiful eyes."
"She's the fastest horse we have," Roan assured, reaching out and petting her snout. "She once got me to Polis and back in six days."
"Amazing," Clarke whispered, raising her hand to pet Elise's neck. "She reminds me of my own horse, Kahl. He's very fast and very free-spirited."
"We shall have to race them sometime," Roan nodded, offering for her to sit down and wait as he made the final adjustments to her saddle. Clarke waited patiently, glad to be able to get off her leg. She watched quietly as Roan checked the straps and the saddle, strapping his sword into the hilt before grabbing the brush. He rubbed her down, meticulously checking her legs and flanks before setting the brush aside. By then she had finished eating, patiently waiting for Roan to finish. Elise was majestic and Clarke swore this beautiful creature knew of her allure, glancing every once and a while in Clarke's direction for assurance.
Clarke stood up when Roan grabbed the reins and she felt excitement rush through her for the first time since she'd been taken. Roan noticed the silly grimace on her face as he approached, Elise stepping up next to him quietly. Just then, the stable hand had shown back up, offering to take the reins as Roan turned toward Clarke. She almost gasped when he lifted her off her feet, setting her easily in the saddle, waiting for her to patiently swing her injured leg over. Once she did, she grasped the saddle, afraid to fall off. She couldn't quite squeeze her thighs without irritating her leg which made her very anxious.
Roan didn't waste any time though, grasping the saddle under her hands and hoisting himself up and over. She immediately felt his grip around her waist as he grabbed the reins from the stableman. It was reassuring, his arms framing her onto the saddle safely as he got comfortable in the seat. She adjusted slightly when he was done, able to better grip with her knees if she leaned forward slightly. This made him grunt and she immediately froze, unsure if she'd hurt him with her movement.
"It's okay," he assured, adjusting slightly. "I just wasn't expecting you to lean forward."
"Is this better?" she asked, leaning back again, trying to maintain grip without straining her leg. It was already sore from walking and she didn't want to further injure it by riding.
"I won't let you fall off," Roan assured, adjusting his arms so they went lower, around her waist and rested comfortably on her thighs. She didn't mind this, the warmth from his body as well as the added weight made her feel more secure in the saddle. "You comfortable?"
"Yes," Clarke nodded, anticipating the horses moves as Roan spurred her forward. The horse started out at a slow walk but it escalated into a trot rather quickly, making Clarke gasp as they left the stables behind. They didn't go back through the tunnel though, Roan leading the horse toward another archway that was gated by steel bars and wooden slats. The door opened as they approached, creaking loudly as Roan slowed Elise to a halt. Roan waved lazily at one of the guards who was manning the gate, passing him with a nod before spurring the horse forward. Elise broke out into a trot now, making Clarke grasp onto the horn of the saddle tightly, Roan's fist instantly tightening around the reins.
Clarke had marveled at the size of the palace but the hunting grounds that were just adjacent were magnificent. Tall pines stretching ominously toward the pale blue sky, the branches swaying and flitting in the breeze like flags, dropping needles and cones on the forest floor around them. Clarke inhaled slowly, enjoying the musty scent of dirt and the crisp evergreen that overwhelmed her. It was a relief to be out of that fortress but the fear of having to return sent a chill up her spine, the biting wind nipping at her nose and cheeks as they rode.
"We'll head down to the market," Roan assured, his breath warm on her neck as he leaned in to speak to her. "How is your leg?"
"It's fine," Clarke assured, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. She could barely see him as they bounced along down the wide dirt path. "The grounds are very beautiful."
"They were the reason my ancestors chose this spot," Roan assured. "Plenty of game and sport for everyone."
"The hunt is a rite of passage in Azgeda, right?" Clarke asked, remembering what Lexa had mentioned once. The only reason Clarke knew anything about Azgeda before all of this was because of Lexa and she wondered if her friend was worried about her. Lexa had always warned Clarke that Azgeda's ways were different than theirs, more brutal.
"All our young warriors learn to hunt," Roan nodded, pulling up on the reins to slow Elise to a walk. "It is essential for survival but only the bravest, and most skilled, participate in the Voksen Hunt."
"Voksen?" Clarke asked, glancing over her shoulder at him, noting the smile on his face.
"It is a hunt that requires the hunter to be completely secluded," Roan explained, swaying with the horse as they clopped through the tree trunks. "They set out, alone, with nothing but a knife, axe, and the clothes on their backs. They must head north, survive off the land, and bring back a worthy kill for their family."
"Did you do it?"
"Of course," Roan chuckled, pulling the horse's reins to steer her into the trees and off the path. Clarke admired the ferns and small foliage but didn't expect to see a skulk of foxes, prowling through the brush with bright orange and yellow fur. Clarke watched them and listened as Roan talked about his hunt, an excitement in his voice that Clarke appreciated.
"I was sixteen," Roan explained, his chest rising and falling evenly as Clarke leaned into him, feeling slightly more comfortable in the saddle. "I went north to an area known as the bar. It is a narrow river valley well known for its big game; bears, wolves, moose, and elk were known to feed and hunt here. So, I made a bow out of a fallen tree and used animal sinew to string it." Roan grasped at the reins again, pulling the horse from the ledge of a small gully, and leading her downhill toward the road beyond the trees.
"What was your prize?" Clarke asked, swaying in the saddle as she held to the horn. "I saw your grandfather's mounted moose; it was very beautiful."
"Oh, I didn't get that lucky," Roan replied, the nostalgia in his voice making Clarke smile. "I hunted that valley for over a week, sleeping in a small lean-to, trapping small game for food, and fishing the river. I had almost decided to leave and venture further north for better game but that morning, while I was packing, a bear had emerged from across the river."
"A bear?" Clarke asked, glancing back at him as they emerged from the forest onto the road that lead directly into town. She spotted the people, going about their daily business, glancing up at them as they passed, trotting across a small wooden bridge that spanned a ditch.
"A bear," Roan confirmed, relaxing in the saddle behind her. "It was a great grizzly, large for its age, and I had a perfect shot. Of course, it only injured the beast and I ended up tracking it for another few hours once I got across the river."
"What did you do with it?" Clarke asked, smiling at a group of children passing by, all of them stopping to wonder at the two of them.
"I skinned it, bagged the meat, and brought the pelt home to make into the fur blanket that sits on my bed today," Roan assured with a nod.
Clarke nodded with a smile, looking at the buildings lining the street with interest. She'd never seen such architecture, especially made of wood. The walls were short but the rooves were pointed and long, ornamental knots and Azgeda symbols adorning the doorframes and windowsills. Clarke noted how simple the people were dressed but how finely crafted their garments were. This is the closest she's been to anyone other than the royal family and warriors so the striking simplicity was refreshing.
Roan turned a corner now, passing a few houses with simple wooden fences holding livestock and a few large stables and barns. Clarke noted how orderly the roads were laid out and how worn the stones had become lining the dirt and wooden roads. She was enthralled by this small but beautiful city and wondered if she had judged the Azgeda culture too harshly. It was only when Roan had turned another corner that Clarke realized where she was at. There were more and more people lining the streets ahead, most of them stopping to look at Roan and Clarke as they approached.
"They are staring at you, right?" Clarke asked, looking over the many faces of shop keeps and vendors.
"Some of them, yes," Roan replied, the horse pulling to a stop, making Clarke sway in the saddle. "Let's give them a few moments to stare."
Before Clarke could reply, Roan had slid down off the saddle, thumping to the ground. He still had hold of the reins and he quickly turned to hand them off. A random person standing in the crowd, a soldier no doubt, took them from him with a bow. Clarke couldn't help but smirk at this, a grimace forming on Roan's face as he reached up, offering his hands up for balance. Clarke watched him for a brief moment, glancing at the horse and the people that had all turned from their daily tasks to observe them.
The temptation to spur the horse forward, to shove aside all these people, and bolt for the bridge across the river had drawn her attention. If she was ever going to escape, now would be her best chance. However, she knew she wouldn't get far, even with a horse. She'd gone over that scenario more than once and knew she'd be hunted down or freeze to death in the cold Azgeda landscape. So, mustering up a smile, she turned to Roan and swung her leg over the horse. She took Roan's hand's gently and slowly lowered herself from the saddle.
"I'll show you the market," Roan insisted, glancing down at her knowingly. She couldn't help but smirk back, wrapping her arm around his securely.
"Then show me," Clarke insisted, nodding for him to lead the way.
Bellamy stood outside his parent's doors, like he'd done time and time before. As a child he'd come here to speak to his mother or learn from his father. He'd sneak in in the middle of the night and jump in bed with them as a child, always waking from nightmares. He'd laugh and play with them as he grew up, and after Octavia was born, they always had their family nights in his parent's suite. But now, standing at the door, Bellamy felt a twisting sickness in his stomach.
He had sworn he'd never speak to his father again, never give him what he wanted. Bellamy knew his father better than his mother believed. Bellamy knew how stubborn and cunning he was and Bellamy knew how driven he would be to still achieve his goal. It sickened Bellamy even more, making him take a step back from the double doors. He didn't want to be here and yet the thought of it getting him one step closer to Clarke was entrancing. He had felt hope for the first time in weeks and today he would bet it all on the fact that his father could keep it alive.
Bellamy knocked on the door now, waiting patiently for an answer. It was only when he didn't hear one that he opened the door, stepping inside cautiously. He glanced around the room, noting the laundry and books strewn about the lounge. Then Bellamy spotted him, in the corner propped on a couch, thoroughly preoccupied by a book. He hadn't even noticed his son until Bellamy stepped closer, Kayden's dark eyes meeting Bellamy's with wonder.
"Father," Bellamy greeted, feeling somewhat tense.
"You're finally here," Kayden replied, his eyes growing wide. "I've been waiting."
So, what do you think Bellamy will do now? What is this awful truth? More to come! Thanks so much! Please review!