Hey guys! This took longer than I planned, but the holidays and return of school slightly restricted my writing time, but I have a chapter for you! In this one, I expanded more into Bellamy's perspective ish, but I don't know how I feel about it, so let me know in the reviews!
As always, reviews are welcome! I live off of them.
Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The 100, only my storyline
Clarke knew that her new captain was a petty asshole, but this was icing on the cake of douchery. Not only was she practically his slave since being taken in, but she was constantly degraded by the other members of the crew. After Bellamy's dramatic welcome speech, she'd been strapped back down in her bed and ordered to get rested for the most work in her life-and exact quote from the Captain. All she'd done for the first week was clean and get in the crews way and be useless. Lying in bed that first night, Clarke struggled to fall asleep. Her wound had been hurting her all day, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. She sat up and lifted up her dress, using only the light of the moon reflecting off the water for light. She'd unbound her gauze and inspected the wound to the best of her ability. It looked like whoever had stitched her up had known what they were doing, except the wound itself was oozing pus around the sutures and had a strange discoloration.
The wound was in danger of getting infected, and needed some sort of disinfectant. Clarke tried to get enough slack from the chains to get to the door, but to no avail. She stamped her foot and groaned.
"Hey! Captain Asshole! I need something alcoholic! Get me rum or something! I'm sure you pirates have something with alcohol in it, don't you?" She screamed. She waited for a few more minutes, and then heard stumbling and muttered curses.
"What the hell are you yelling about?" Bellamy asked as he opened up her door.
"I need beer or rum or something." She replied.
"If you wanted something to drink, princess, you could've just asked-what are you doing?" Bellamy had drawn a flask from his overcoat-which was thrown over his cotton pants. Clarke had snatched the flask from his hand, opened it, and was now pouring the liquid on her wound with an audible hiss.
"Ouch, that stings. Oh, I needed it to disinfect my injury." She said, handing the now empty flask back to the befuddled captain.
"You wasted my very expensive, very hard to find, whiskey on disinfecting your wound?" Bellamy exclaimed.
"Sorry if I'm not interested in dying just yet. I still have some things to take care of. Besides, you wouldn't want your new crewmember to drop dead on you?" Clarke said with a shrug. She climbed back into her bed and drew up the sheets, ignoring the stunned look on the Captain's face.
"So you're a healer?" He said slowly, still shocked at the last stunning minute of his life.
"Mostly. I almost finished my training before I r- umm, before I left to the ship." Clarke said, catching herself right before accidentally spilling her secret. Bellamy gave her a blank look, his sleepy mind still processing the loss of his whiskey.
"We could use a healer. I guess that's your official title." He said with a smug look.
"I've always wanted to be a healer on a pirate ship. Been my dream since I was a little girl. Rescuing damsals in distress, killing innocents, and stealing all the gold I could ever want." Clarke said sarcastically. Bellamy just gave her an exasperated look and rolled his eyes.
"You can leave now. I need sleep." She said with a wave of dismissal. Bellamy, to say the least, was not amused. And so began their first night living on the same ship.
"Get back here, Princess. We're not done." Bellamy said, grabbing Clarke's arm and stopping her from walking away from him.
"So what? You can smack me around again?" Clarke spat back, yanking her arm out of his grasp.
"If you're going to be a pirate, you need to learn how to fight." Bellamy said with a roll of his eyes.
"I can fight just fine!" Clarke retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. For the last hour or so, Bellamy had been "teaching" her how to fight with a sword, if his method was even close to teaching. All he did was toss a sword at her and then run at her, his rapier flying. Some of the crew had gathered to watch, chuckling at the duo's argument. So far, Clarke had only met Monty and Jasper, as well as the cook Harper, but that was it for people she knew on this boat.
"Obviously not. Why else would you be covered in bruises and complaining?" Bellamy said with an exasperated sigh.
"Maybe if you would actually teach instead of this bullshit, I might actually learn something!" Clarke yelled. She stomped up to Bellamy and glared at him. She whipped the sword up in an attempt at cutting him, but he quickly parried her blow with a swift twitch of his hand. He glared right back, and then sighed again. He tightened his grip on his rapier, and thrust his hand in Clarke's face.
"This is how you hold a sword, not like a bird claw." He said. Clarke looked at the way Bellamy's hand gripped the hilt, and quickly fixed her grip on her sword to match it, holding it up next to his for comparison.
"Now hold it in front of you, like this. No, like this." Bellamy stated, adjusting Clarke's feet position. He twisted her around so that she was standing in a proper fighting stance; her feet perpendicular to each other and knees bent to lower her center of gravity. Her right arm was parallel to the ship's dock, the sword gripped tightly in her hand. Bellamy was standing in the same position next to her as an example.
"Now up! That's how to block a blow from above, and down like this- good, for below. The same things for the sides. To attack, just thrust or swipe your sword-no, that's wrong. Just twist your wrist, there you go." Bellamy kept correcting Clarke's position and grip over and over again, running through the same simulations and movements until she had them down for the next hour or so.
Panting, Clarke wiped the copious amount of sweat from her brow, her muscles trembling. Who knew sword fighting was so intense. She'd sparred with Bellamy again after going through the beginning techniques, and had lasted almost ten times as long before he inevitably beat her.
"See? It's harder than it looks. Now go back to your quarters. I have actual work to do." Bellamy said, sheathing his sword and strolling away into his captain's quarters. Clarke just stared after the rude man with an indignant look on her face.
"Don't worry. He's always like that. You'll get used to it. Eventually." A voice laughed from above Clarke. She looked over to see a feminine hand extended out to help her up. Clarke grasped the hand, grateful for the help in getting up. Her injury still stung whenever she moved, and sword fighting wasn't helping her recovery.
"I'm not surprised, honestly. He looks like an ass, walks like an ass, and talks like an ass." Clarke snarled. The laugh rang out again, and Clarke greeted her helper. An attractive woman who seemed to be a year or so younger than Clarke had her head thrown back in laughter, and Clarke swore the girl looked just like the asshat of a captain.
"I'm Octavia, Octavia Blake. Nice to meet you." The girl, Octavia, said, extending her hand out to shake Clarke's. Clarke shook the girl's hand and introduced herself.
"Clarke. Are you related to Captain Dickhead by any chance?" She asked.
"Yea, Captain Dickhead is my older brother." Octavia said with a smile. Clare would've apologized for insulting her brother, but he really was a dickhead and she was a pirate now, so manners didn't matter anymore.
"He told me you're our new healer. That's good. We've needed one for a while." Octavia chattered, following Clarke down to her room. After a day or so of confusion, Clarke had finally figured out how to get to the deck and to the kitchens from her little cabin, but knew nothing else about the ship.
"…one time and that was bad. I never knew fire could do that to a person's skin. Why are you going this way? Didn't Bell put you in the West cabin?" Octavia asked.
"I guess, but this is the only way I know to get there." Clarke said with a shrug, stumbling down the hall. She was still getting used to walking on a constantly moving boat, and had not gained her sealegs just yet. Octavia, on the other hand, was balanced perfectly and walked fine on the rolling ship.
"You didn't get a tour? That asshole, I'll have to talk to him about that. Come on, let me show you around." Octavia grumbled, linking her arm with Clarke's and leading her through another part of the ship. Clarke's mental map of the ship developed as Octavia led her on the tour, showing her the first level with the upper deck and helm and captain's quarters, and the second level; where her room was located as well as the kitchen's and a few other cabins, as well as the crew's sleeping quarters- which consisted of a bunch of hammocks and some beds spread out everywhere with a few bins for clothes and other personal items. Clarke was glad she didn't sleep in that room, not liking the lack of privacy and cleanliness. Although the entire ship wasn't the cleanest in the world, Clarke's room was at least organized. Being raised in a castle where every spec of dust and dirt was swept away by a small army of servants.
"And under here is the cargo bay. We mainly keep food supplies and weapons ammunitions down here. The gold and treasure is locked away in Bell's cabin, as well as other secret places. Every crew member has their own stash somewhere." Octavia said. Clarke's mind went to the little pocket of cloth filled with enough gold to raise a few families in comfort strapped to her thigh. She really needed to find a better place to put it. During her training, the pocket of gold had almost slid down her leg multiple times, causing Clarke to stumble and get struck by the captain.
"Thanks, Octavia. I think I can manage around now." Clarke smiled.
"No problem. Can't have our healer getting lost now can we?" Octavia replied. Clarke's heart swelled. Even though she was basically a captive on a pirate ship surrounded by criminals, she felt more at home than she had since her father had died. Octavia was the closest thing to a friend Clarke had had, and she was almost a stranger to Clarke. With a heavy heart, Clarke waved good-bye her new friend and retreated into her cabin after grabbing a hunk of bread and some soup from the kitchen. Clarke sat on her bed, slowly eating her food and staring out the porthole window at the clear blue waters and sky. As the sun started to fall closer to the horizon, the sky burst into a beautiful mixture of reds and oranges and purples. Clarke wished she had some of her art supplies with her so she could capture the relaxing image to keep forever.
Clarke bit her lip and stared at her duffel bag lying on the floor next to her bed. She quickly climbed off the mattress, praying to whatever gods there were for a miracle.
"AHA! Yes!" Clarke shouted in excitement. She pulled out a box containing some charcoal and pastels wrapped in some paper from within her bag and clutched it to her chest. She would be okay, she had her art supplies, some food, and a beautiful image to draw. Clarke quickly positioned herself on the floor so that she had a perfect view of the sunset. She used the white pastel to sketch out a quick outline and then blocked out some of the colors, slowly adding more detail and complexity as time went on. By the time she had gotten a basic sketch finished, the sun had set and the room was almost pitch black, save for the light of the stars and the small gas lamp Clarke had dragged down from her wall. Her entire body was relaxed and she lied on her stomach so that she could gaze at her work in progress. Adding some more yellow to a section, Clarke started to hum. The tune of an old lullaby her father used to sing to her as a little girl filled the empty room, complimented by the scratching of her fingers against the paper.
Clarke's door slammed open, startling the girl and causing her to scatter her pastels to all corners of the room.
"What the f- you scared me!" Clarke exclaimed, crawling around to gather her runaway pastels.
"Sorry Princess. We need you for- what are you doing?" The Captain asked. He'd barged into her room so suddenly and didn't even care that he disturbed her peace. Clarke rolled her eyes and glared at the captain in her doorway.
"You barged in so rudely and made me mess up my pastels. But what's going on?" Clarke asked, changing the subject away from her own superficial troubles at the serious look in Bellamy's eyes. Bellamy glanced over at her drawing, which was still on the floor, and raised an eyebrow in appreciation.
"Come on, we've got an injury." He said, turning away and starting to walk away. Clarke jumped up, grabbed her med kit and rushed after the captain, firing out questions.
"What happened? Where are they? Is it bad? Where is the wound? Could there have been poison involved? Knife or bullet?" Clarke asked, giving the man no time to respond.
"Just come on already. You'll see." Bellamy said stiffly. Clarke huffed, but stayed quiet as he walked through the depths of the ship.
"We sent some of the crew out to scope out a prison camp. We have people there, and we're going to get em out soon. Only one came back, and he's pretty fucked up right now. I need you to do all you can so he doesn't die, at least not yet." Bellamy explained quietly. Clarke's eyebrows tied together, a memory of the castle pushing to the surface. She shoved it back down and focused on the task at hand. No time to think about the prison camps true purposes.
"Why are we going down? Isn't he on the deck?" Clarke asked after noticing that Bellamy was leading her down deeper into the ship towards the cargo bay.
"We had to get him away from everyone." He replied simply, as if it was enough of an explanation. Scowling, Clarke quickened her pace. Bellamy was taller and had longer legs, already giving him an advantage, but now he was practically running and Clarke had trouble keeping up.
"Open up! It's me." Bellamy called. He banged on one of the doors that led into the cargo bay impatiently. The door swung open just wide enough for the two of them to slid in individually, then slammed closed.
"Cap, he ain't doing so good." A man said, wringing his hands together nervously. Clarke looked around the dark room, squinting to try and see her patient. Her first real patient. Sudden nervous butterflies filled her stomach and her grip tightened on the med kit in her arms.
"Where is he?" Clarke asked. She took a deep breath and focused her mind on the task at hand. She had a life to save. The teachings of her Master came back to her, helping Clarke block out unnecessary feelings and adopt a healer's professionalism.
"O-over there." The man who'd opened the door stuttered, pointing to a cot on the floor in the middle of the room. The few people in the room, Clarke assumed they were the people who'd launched the mission, avoided the cot. Clarke narrowed her eyes and slowly approached the cot. As she drew closer, she could hear sparse, wet breathing coming from the person on the cot. She knelt down next to the patient, her heart sinking in her chest.
The man on the cot was covered in burns, and his eyes were blank and milky. Some of his bones were peeking out of the burned masses of flesh and skin encasing his entire body. The clothes he had been wearing were fused with his skin, and wet tears filled his blind eyes. His chest shuddered as he struggled to breath. Clarke brushed some of his hair off of his face.
"Can, can you do anything?" Bellamy asked. He'd crouched down next to Clarke, and his eyes searched her face for a sign of hope, finding none.
"W-we were on the i-island about to leave w-when it appeared. It was a y-yellow f-fog, and it k-killed Thomas before we realized it was a-acid. W-we hid, but Atom was s-still…" A girl muttered, curled into the fetal position on the floor.
"…k-ki…" A weak voice cracked. Clarke quickly hunched over the man, Atom, on the cot to try and hear what he was saying. Bellamy moved over across from Clarke so that he was kneeling on the other side of Atom and leaned in to hear too.
"K-ki-ll," Atom stammered. Clarke grabbed his hand gently, understanding what he was asking already.
"What is it?" Bellamy implored.
"…ki-ll m-m-ee." Atom choked out, tears falling from his blind eyes. Bellamy jerked away in shock, his mouth hanging open. Clarke gazed at the captain in sympathy, knowing it was a difficult choice. Bellamy pulled out a small knife from his waist, his grip shaky. He looked at Clarke, his eyes filled with pain and indecision. Clarke just stared at him softly. She took the knife from his shaking hands and started humming. It was the tune to the lullaby her father sang to her as a little girl. She hummed softly, the soothing melody causing Atom to relax. Clarke kept humming as she placed the knife on Atom's neck, right next to his jugular. She took a deep breath and continued to hum, then sunk the knife in his neck. She squeezed his hand as Atom shook and gurgled for a minute. His body slowly grew lifeless, the choking sounds of his breathing died away as Atom died.
"Bellamy stared at the healer in shock. She was still humming, and tears filled her eyes. She had done what he could not- kill. Some newfound respect rose within the captain as he realized how strong the little princess was already and how much stronger she could become.
After Clarke returned to her room, she stared in the dark at the sunset she had drawn earlier, her heart aching. She bent down and picked up the scattered pastels, ignoring how much her hands shook. The image of Atom's lifeless body still lying on the floor stuck in her mind. Bellamy had taken the knife from her hands, giving her a thankful look and ordered some of the crew to wrap up his body and take it to the upper deck for a funeral.
Before the mourning crew could, however, Octavia had burst into the room. She saw Atom's body and immediately ran over and knelt next to his body, placing her head on his scarred chest to listen for a heartbeat. Clarke watched the tears fill Octavia's eyes as she realized he was gone. Octavia's lower lip quivered and she started sobbing. She clutched his body and cried out for a lost love taken too soon. Bellamy reached out and wrapped himself around his sister, muttering comforts into her ear. Octavia had calmed enough to hear what had happened to Atom a few minutes later, and even though Clarke had killed her lover's life, Octavia stood up and solemnly pulled the shaken blonde into a hug, and thanked her for ending his suffering. Clarke was shocked. Octavia had been one of the people to lift Atom's body up in the air and bring him to the deck, tears streaming down her face as she did.
Clarke eventually stopped reaching for the art supplies and just sat on the floor against the foot of her bed. She looked at the soft blue pastel, and it suddenly blurred and changed into a bloody knife. Clarke yelped and dropped the pastel as if it were a burning hot metal pan. Clarke lowered her face in her hands and took deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Her Master had prepared her for this. For when she would take a life. When she would become a killer.
"He was in so much pain, so much. And I helped him. He isn't suffering anymore." Clarke muttered to herself until she calmed down. She brushed the blonde strands out of her face and finished picking up the pastels and placed them back in her bag and set the bag between the mattress and the wooden frame underneath her bed for safe keeping. She picked up the drawing and placed it on top of the small cabinet in the corner of her room, after quickly scribbling a note in the corner.
"Clarke. Everyone's awake. We're ready." Bellamy called through her door. Clarke greeted the captain with a small sad smile. She followed him up and out on the deck, where the crew was gathered around Atom's body. Some were crying, others barely holding back tears, or comforting those around them. Octavia stood with the crew who had gone on the mission with Atom, each holding a burning torch. In the dark cool night, the torches provided barely enough light and warmth for the grieving crew, making them huddle closer together to keep warm and provide the needed human comfort in the loss of a friend. Clarke stayed close to the back, letting Bellamy walk up to the front of the crowd, which parted for him like a river around a stone.
Bellamy's shoulders were hunched and his face expressing the sorrow of every person standing on the deck. He stood up tall and straightened his posture, looking through the crowd.
"I'm sure all of you are wondering why I got you up so late, and what happened. Today we lost one of our own. Today we lost a friend. As I'm sure you all know, some of our people are trapped in a prison camp not too far from where we are now. Atom was part of a scouting mission to gain information about the camp so we can finally bring our people home." Bellamy paused, and looked over at Atom's body with a grievous sigh.
"He didn't make it. During the mission, he was injured by some strange fog. Atom fought to free our enslaved crew, our enslaved friends. And for that, I cannot thank him enough for his sacrifice. His death helped bring us critical information about the island, about the camp. With his sacrifice, we can- we will, save our people. Today we send off Atom to sail the mighty seas forever. He will be remembered, and he will be missed." Bellamy concluded. He nodded to one of the torch bearers, and they each grabbed a hold of the cot Atom was on and carried it to the railing. They opened up a hatch on the side of the ship so that there was a space for Atom to fall from the ship. Octavia then walked over with her head held high and dropped her torch onto the sheet covering his marred body. When the flames spread along enough of the cloth, Octavia kicked the cot off of the ship, sending Atom into the sea with a fiery sendoff.
"May we meet again!" Octavia cried.
"May we meet again!" The rest of the crew bellowed.
"Sleep in tomorrow. We'll have a day of mourning, and then back to work! Now go to sleep!" Bellamy ordered. The crew dispersed slowly, most walking up to give Octavia words of comfort or hugs. Clarke slowly faded into the background and she crept away from the people and quietly returned to her cabin for a night of restless nightmares.
Clarke got up and dressed a little before dawn, after tossing and turning all night. The memories of the night before kept her up, and she barely got any sleep. She stumbled into the empty kitchen and grabbed a roll of bread to nibble on. She slowly explored the ship for an hour or so while the rest of the crew slept. Eventually she found herself back in the cargo bay, staring at the blood staining the dark wood. She silently left the bay and found herself on the upper deck. Clarke leaned on the railing and stared out at the quiet sea, the rising sun shining against the blue waters and lighting up the sky in a rainbow of color. Clarke closed her eyes and breathed in the clear sea air, the rocking of the ship and sounds of the waves lulling her into unconsciousness.
Bellamy hadn't slept a wink last night, and he decided to wake up the Princess a little early for training. He needed to get this nervous energy out of his system somehow, and fighting seemed like the perfect way to clear his mind. He grabbed a roll and an apple from the kitchen and headed for Clarke's cabin, munching on his breakfast. He knocked on the door, and when silence answered, he barged in.
"Rise and shine Princess! Time for-" Bellamy froze when he saw the undisturbed empty bed, and empty room. He looked around a bit, and wondered where on earth the crazy blonde could be. His gaze landed on the colorful drawing she had been working on the night before, and he grabbed it off the cabinet for a closer look. The drawing itself was beautiful, and captured the sunset on the sea perfectly. Bellamy wondered where she learned to draw like this, the mystery of the rich girl growing bigger. He almost dropped the paper, however, when he saw the small inscription in the corner.
Dedicated to Atom, a brave soul.
May we meet again.
Bellamy carefully placed the drawing back on the cabinet and quietly left the room. He'd seen Clarke at the funeral last night, and knew she didn't respond in the chant with the rest of the crew. At first he'd thought she didn't understand their Kingdom's funeral customs, but she obviously did. The captain grumbled, and swore he would beat her sorry ass during training. He walked up onto the deck, and rolled his eyes at the sight before him. The foolish Princess had fallen asleep on the deck. She was slumped against the ship's railing, as if she had come out here for some air and fallen asleep against the railing for no good reason. Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight, and the image made quite the sight. Bellamy grinned devilishly and cracked his knuckles, ready to give the slumbering girl a very rude awakening.
Clarke hadn't realized she'd actually fallen asleep until she woke up, feeling quite strange. She slowly opened her eyes, her head pounding and her ankles ached for some reason. She looked around, or rather down at the blue ocean beneath her head. Clarke blinked. She was swaying back and forth, upside down, tied by her ankles above the fucking middle of the ocean.
"Bellamy! I'm gonna fucking kill you, you bastard!" Clarke screamed angrily. She heard laughter from her right, and looked over to see the captain laughing smugly on the deck of the ship. He'd somehow been able to tie her up by her ankles and swing her up on the mast and out over the water. It wasn't the fact that she was strung up upside down that frightened Clarke, it was the fact that she was hanging by a literal thread over the middle of the ocean, and that she couldn't swim. She knew it was pathetic for a pirate to not be able to swim, but how was Clarke to know she would sail the seas as a pirate one day, a Princess didn't need to know how to swim.
There was no way on earth Clarke was going to admit her lack of skill to the smug captain, however. She would rather drown, which was looking to be likely at this point.
"This is why you don't fall asleep in strange places, Princess. You never know what'll happen." The captain said with a shrug and a smile from on the deck. Clarke scowled and started to swing her body back and forth to gain momentum. She would escape this situation and kick the captain right in the balls, if he even had any. Clarke couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at the thought of the smug Captain in a ball on the floor with tears in his eyes as he clutched his most precious cargo.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Bellamy asked.
"This isn't the first time I've been tied up with a strange man." Clarke said sarcastically, smiling when the Captain's mouth twitched in amusement. She'd gained enough momentum to try and swing up and grab either the rope or the wooden mast. Right as she was about to swing up and grab it, her stitches burst open and she cried out in pain.
Clarke muttered curses and gritted her teeth to fight the urge to scream. Bellamy looked at her questioningly, but when he saw the blood staining her shirt, he understood.
"Shit." He said simply. He disappeared from Clarke's field of vision, to try and pull her in she assumed, but Clarke took a deep breath and swung up to grab the mast through the pain. She clung to the wood for dear life, panting and sweaty. She hung on as Bellamy pulled the mast over above the deck, and then she let go and fell onto the deck clumsily, but on her own two feet.
"You alright? Sorry, I forgot about it." Bellamy apologized. He slumped down to swing Clarke's arm over his shoulders to support her weight and helped her limp over to a barrel she could sit on. Clarke hissed and lifted up her shirt to inspect the damage. It wasn't too bad, her stitches had just torn a little and the blood was only from some superficial cuts.
"It's alright, it's not that bad. Can you go grab my med-kit?" Clarke asked calmly. The captain obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and swiftly returned with the sac. Clarke opened it up and grabbed out a newly sterile needle she'd cleaned the other day and some thread. She lifted up her shirt and stuffed the end into her mouth to keep it out of the way. She had just thread the needle and begun to stick it in the wound when Bellamy cried out.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you need painkillers or something sterile?" He asked aghast. Clarke just stared at him, the needle half stuck in her side.
"I'shm jusht goin shto redo muy shtitshes." Clarke grumbled out around the cloth in her mouth.
"You can't just stitch yourself up like it's nothing! Doesn't it hurt?" Bellamy asked exasperated. Clarke shrugged, then continued to redo her stitches. Bellamy watched nervously, and paced around the deck tensely. Clarke tied off the string and grabbed some gauze from her bag and started to wrap it around her torso to make it more secure.
"It's not a big deal. Not like it's the first time." Clarke said when she finished. The captain just stared at her, his expression unreadable.
"What have you had to live through?" He asked softly. Clarke stiffened, memories she'd tried to forget pushing up to the front of her mind. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"What I had to, so I could survive." She replied.
Wahh! Atom died! Just a small development point, we're going to be getting to the fun stuff soon. Tell me what ya think, and I hope you liked it! I'm terrible at death scenes...