Hey there everyone, and Happy New Year!

I received five reviews this chapter, so thank you to 12, Guest, strangeJenny, Guest, and Jacob Denness.

Also, I forgot last chapter to mention my five reviewers, so thanks to 12, strangeJenny, Jacob Denness, SydneyRaine, and Guest.

Warning: There's violence and torture in this chapter, if you can't stomach that, then you might want to skip this one.

Anyways, here's the next chapter, please read, review, and enjoy!


Chapter 11:

Sketchbook balanced on one knee, Clarke dragged her pencil across the page with long, practiced strokes. A window on the Ark began to appear on the paper, revealing a portion of the Earth. The ten foot window was surrounded by metal framing and metallic walls, all having an unwelcoming vibe. On the floor was a small blanket with sandwiches and chocolate spread across it, and Bellamy was smiling at her in the picture.

It was a memory of some of her last days on the Ark, the ones she spend talking and laughing with her best friend. The memory was one of many that gave her incentive to try and escape and get back to her people.

Hearing quiet footsteps, she glanced up to see a tall Grounder walk in, body adorned with thick fur coats and armor. Her gaze flitted over to the tray balanced upon his arm, and her mouth watered. She only received one meal a day at random times; as a result, she was almost always hungry.

He sat the tray down at her feet, and she frowned when she saw her portions. There was about three bites of bread and even less of the meat, but it would have to do. She gulped down the cup of water and watched as he left, stopping only when she called out.

He turned around, looking at her with slight irritation.

"May I speak to your leader?" She asked in his language, hoping she was close to correct in the pronunciation.

He nodded once and stepped outside. As the footsteps receded, Clarke turned back to her picture, sketching thick black curls with a sad smile upon her face.

A few moments later, the Queen walked in, standing in front of her expectantly. "Well?" She questioned irritably, Roan following behind her and translating for Clarke.

Hoping she could somehow talk her way out of her imprisonment, she began to speak. "Your ambassador went to Polis to discuss a treaty. Lexa, your Heda, probably wishes to invite Skaikru to join the coalition."

She grumbled something, and Roan looked down at his feet. "Is that what you wanted? To tell me things I already know?" He questioned, pulling the emotion from his voice.

"Our leader will say yes." She said, pausing and hoping it was true. "The treaty will state that we are under the Commander's protection, and that harm may not be unjustly brought upon us. Once we are part of the coalition, then your Heda will be furious when she finds out you are breaking the rules of the treaty. She could easily summon her army and attack your people, therefore wiping them out."

The other leader simply sneered at that, shooting Clarke a condescending look. "I am not letting you go. Your people will soon know that you are here. If they were to go to Polis and complain to Lexa, you would already be dead by the time they got there. My warriors are stationed outside of your camp, waiting for an answer. If they aren't back in time, you will be killed. I expect plenty in return for your life." She started towards the tent entrance, motioning for Roan to follow.

Clarke leaning her head against the chair, sighing in defeat. She knew talking probably wouldn't work, but it was worth a shot. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, tangled blonde hair falling over the back of her seat.

Thinking about her home and plans to get back, she eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

In what seemed like seconds later, she was shaken awake. Opening her eyes, she saw two Grounders in her presence, one with a belt of deadly looking weapons across his waist. The other began to speak in English, staring at her uncomfortably.

"I have been commanded to tell you this in English, because, besides Roan, I may be the only one to speak your language." He coughed and looked away from her. "The terms of the agreement that the Queen created state that you are to be traded for something valuable from your people. It does not state your required condition. Therefore, in return for attempting to escape earlier, the Queen ordered that revenge is exacted upon you, for your attempted crime and for the invasion of the rest of your people." With that, he left, leaving Clarke with the second Grounder.

Shuddering inwardly, she gazed at him intently, simply waiting for him to do whatever he had to do. He slowly walked up to her, a sneer plastered upon his face. Pondering something for a moment, he jogged out, returning with something hidden behind his back. He then revealed a jagged edged dagger, the tip red hot from the fire, and pressed it against her left clavicle. The blade dug into her skin, and that's when the pain began.

He cut into her skin multiple times after that, until her vision began to darken around the edges. She tried desperately to not cry out and give him what he wanted, but after a few minutes, moans began to escape her lips.

When she was finally lucky enough to black out, she was jerked awake by a bucket of cold water being poured upon her head and soaking her whole body.

After he seemed satisfied, the torturous Grounder left, only to be replaced by another one. Clarke cringed, closing her eyes, as he advanced upon her.

She flinched as he touched her shoulder and waited for more pain, but only felt a slight sting. Slowly opening her eyes, she realized that he was stopping the bleeding on the cuts and bandaging the deeper ones.

Once her whole body was taken care of, a whispered thanks slipped out of Clarke's lips as he left.

The following days occured in a similar fashion. She received food in the mornings, then was greeted by the Grounder in the evening. He always found new ways to torture her, whether by blade, whip, or flame. By the end of the week, her body contained wounds, a multitude of them stretching across her back. The Healer attempted to help each day, but he mainly suceeded in just keeping her alive.

Clarke woke up that morning at dawn, surprised she was able to stay asleep as long as she did. A wave of pain coursed across her body as she groaned. She glanced at her leather journal before her mind was dragged elsewhere.

Counting the days on her fingers, Clarke knew she only had a day left before they killed her. At first, she was certain her people would have been here already, but now, she wasn't as sure. Even if they tried to make a deal, the Ice Queen would probably refuse it and kill her anyways.

Her torturer walked in, interrupting her thoughts. He held a whip in his hand and had a sadistic grin plastered upon his face as she stood up, took her shirt off, and turned around. He cracked the whip, and Clarke cried out in pain as she held herself up against the back of the chair.

After he was done for the day, the Healer came in once again. He gently cleaned her back, applying a giant bandage across the worst patches. Once he was finished, he slipped her a bottle. "The bottle makes people go to sleep." He mumbled before leaving.

For the first time since she'd been there, Clarke felt happy, even if it was just for a moment. She knew she would hopefully get to see her people again, and that gave her motivation that pushed through the pain.

As the night fell, she devised a plan and waited until it was time. At what she assumed was midnight, she crept over to edge of the tent and held two rags under each of the guards noses. One of them raised his sword and stabbed it into her leg, but they both passed out before he could do anything more. Clarke held back a yelp of pain and silently limped out of the back of camp, through the thick bushes that surrounded the perimeter.

The sword fell out of her leg at the edge of camp, leaving her to press her hands against the injury. Her vision darkened around the edges but she continued on until she felt that she was far away from the camp.

Even then, she knew they would be searching everywhere for her, considering that her execution date was in a few hours. Blood soaked the bandages across her back as old wounds reopened, and her legs was completely covered, despite her best efforts to stop the bleeding.

Spotting a cave in the distance, she worked up all of her strength to get there. As the sky began to contain hints of red and pink, and the sun started to rise, she hobbled towards the cave, barely making it inside before she sunk to her knees and blacked out.


So, what do you think? It was a bit dark, but I figured I'd put our favorite characters through some more misery.

Please review, it means the world to us authors.

Until next chapter, and once again, Happy New Year!