The village had been a flurry of activity for over a month getting everything finished before winter set in. Yesterday, they'd completed construction for the season, and the first frost arrived this morning. Raven would have been well within her rights to strut around town smug and satisfied. Everything planned got finished along with a few that weren't planned. As of now Shaw had plumbing, sewage, some electricity, and heat for all the newly constructed and insulated one-room homes. It felt like the best of both worlds to Bellamy. Some of the conveniences of the Ark, but with the freedom and purity that came with being on the Ground.
Children weren't the only ones singing and dancing, everyone was. Anya danced with Clarke, Indra and Nyko. Murphy, in lieu of dancing, strummed the guitar Raven fixed up after a salvage team found it. Monty and Jasper beat drums, while Harper played a lute type thing along with several other villagers. Fox danced with Octavia and Lincoln. The only other person not making with some kind of merry was Raven, having passed out drunk an hour ago. She wasn't taking Finn's disappearance well and hadn't smiled in weeks.
Glass of wine in hand, Bellamy just watched it all, wondering when the Sword of Damocles would fall. Clarke ran over to him with a smile lighting her face up like he'd never seen before and couldn't help but smile himself. "Hey, Fisa!"
"Hai! Come dance with me!" She took the cup from his hand and set it aside. When he shook his head, she grabbed his wrists and pulled him into the throng. For a moment he could only stare as she spun and bounced around him, but the beat found him and lured him to dance. Letting go for the first time since he was little, Bellamy felt this buoyancy and youth, almost innocent again.
Lost in this forgotten feeling, it took Bellamy a second longer than everyone else to figure out they were under attack. Mountain men, some in radiation suits and some not, surrounded them, shooting anyone who dared run.
One of the soldiers carried a bull horn. "If you don't want to die, you'll give up Clarke Griffin."
No one moved, not until most of the Mountain Men had intermixed with the crowd, looking for Clarke. The villagers swarmed then, killing the intruders swift and quiet. During a lull, Bellamy saw Clarke and a Mountain man having a stand-off several yards away.
Before he could get there, Anya stepped between Clarke and the man, while Murphy grabbed him from behind and held a knife to his throat. Bellamy walked up to the Mountain Man, wanting answers. "Who sent you?"
"I got my orders from President Wallace and Chancellor Griffin. They'll retaliate. Wipe all of you out. This was the Chancellor's last effort to rescue her daughter. She'll write her off now, and you're all dust."
Bellamy punched the guy's smug face. "Retaliate how?"
"Not telling you a thing. But I'm sure Clarke wants to get a final message to her mother."
Stepping forward, Clarke smiled cold and indifferent. "Not really."
"Any final words of your own?" Anya asked.
"I will be…"
Murphy slit his throat. Looking over the crowd as he wiped his blade on his sleeve, Murphy said, "We need to talk to our little double agent. See if she found out anything new."
"We'll meet in the hall. You all know who to collect. Now go." Anya didn't wait to see her orders followed, she knew they would be.
Less than ten minutes later, nine of them gathered in the building that served as dining and meeting hall. Anya started things. "Fox? What've you learned about their weapons and defenses?"
Fox spread out a map of Mt. Weather's interior. "A lot."
They spent all afternoon and evening strategizing, not stopping for meals.
The plan set, Indra stood to dismiss everyone. "Rest tonight. We honor the dead tomorrow, and go to war the day after. The shadow of the Mountain will no longer rule us."
When the hall was all but empty, Anya's arm circled Clarke's waist. "You can stay here."
"We'll need all the fisas near the frontline, or we'll lose more people than we have to." Clarke leaned into Anya.
"I'll try to spare your mother." Anya kissed Clarke's temple. "I can't issue an order but I can insist I go after her myself."
"No need." Clarke kissed Anya, her hand grasping the hem of her shirt. "How much time do we have?"
"As long as it takes." Pushing Clarke against the wall, Anya attacked her collarbone with her tongue. Clothes tugged away, and breathing heavy, they slid to the floor.
Limp puddles draped over each other, Anya sighed. "There's something I need to tell you."
Clarke kissed the tip of her nose. "You can tell me anything. You know that."
"That first day. On the bridge, the peace talks Lincoln and Finn arranged." Anya never felt this out of control of her emotions before. "We, I…"
"Are you talking about the bowmen in the trees? That if Bell and I hadn't made the offer we did, you'd have had us both killed right there? I already know. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason Bellamy agreed to my spur of the moment insane idea." Clarke caressed Anya's cheek. "Don't go soft on me now. I need you your ruthless self at least until we beat Mt. Weather. Then you can be as soft as you want."
Splaying her hand over Clarke's face, Anya laughed as she pushed her away. Clarke countered by tickling until Anya begged for mercy between gasping guffaws. This ruined Anya's badass facade once and for all.
Sitting on the stoop, Murphy waited for Clarke to return home from her tryst with Anya. He was pretty sure no one else knew. Certainly not Indra, who'd kill Clarke before sharing Anya. He needed to talk to Clarke and make her understand the brand of fire she'd decided to play with.
Twirling like a child, she skipped into view, braids and pale yellow waves flying around her head vivid in the moonlight. In this moment, she seemed so joyful and Murphy wished he didn't have to steal that. When she caught sight of him, she pulled him into her whirlwind, spinning them until they fell dizzy to the frost covered grass. Turning to face him, she said, "I missed you Murphy."
His fingers twined with hers. "Missed you too."
"Whatever you want to talk about, can it wait until tomorrow? Tonight's been so good and I don't want it spoiled just yet." Her harsh breathing puffed warmth on his skin, her face that close to his. "Did you clean these?" she asked, touching the brush burns on that side of his face.
"Ye…" When she started kissing all his scrapes and bruises, he forgot how to talk. Straddling him, her hands pushed his shirt up and off so she could lick and kiss every injury in sight, whether fresh or old scars. When she unzipped his pants, he pushed her off.
Flushed and wide-eyed, she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try and force you into anything."
"It's not that." He shook his head. "I, I just didn't expect…" Pulling her to him, his hand slipped under her sweater as he bit her bottom lip. He couldn't deny needing this anymore. Flush against one another, mouths ravishing, fingernails digging into flesh, they didn't hear Bell until he touched them. In an odd synchronicity they looked up at Bellamy, then at each other. A pair of arched eyebrows later, and Murphy slithered up Bell's front while Clarke writhed up his back. "You wanna?"
"Let's take this inside." Bellamy's voice was thick with lust yet stern.
"Yes, sir." Murphy saluted him and ambled inside, holding Clarke's hand.
Bellamy stepped over the threshold, dropped Murphy's thermal shirt in the corner, and closed the door with fluid movements. She bit her lip and stepped up to Bellamy. "How'd you get through today without a scratch?"
"Lucky I guess."
"I don't call that luck. Hey, John, don't you think it's a shame Bell doesn't have any delectable wounds?"
"It is a shame. A terrible, horrifying shame." He sidled up to the couple and stroked Bellamy's unblemished cheek, then the shallow cuts and deep bruises on Clarke's face. "You've got wonderful color. I know I do. Looks like Bell's the odd man out."
The slow libidinous smile crossing Bellamy's face mirrored back at him twice over. "What are you gonna do about it?"
No sooner was the last word out of his mouth than Clarke raked her fingernails over the swell of his cheek, drawing blood. Murphy's left cross sent Bell to the floor where Clarke dropped to her knees and began disrobing him. Joining the pile, Murphy removed any clothing he touched. He shoved his tongue into Bellamy's wanton mouth. When Clarke wriggled between them, his fingers found her nipple and pinched and twisted. Her rasping breaths and Bellamy's bruising touch brought a flush to Murphy's cheeks. He'd wanted this for so long, but even in his wildest dreams he'd never expected the perfection of this type of violence.
An idea like truth warmed Murphy. None of them had ever had anything close to the kind of trust that allowed this type of freedom. This would never be love, but freedom trumped everything. They could find happiness in this type of freedom. If they let themselves.