Word Count: 3,951
AN: I'm sorry that this took longer - it was a busy month for me, and between falling sick for 2 weeks and then being buried under stacks of reports and essays for my classes, writing was really the last thing on my mind. Your constant support means the world for me, thank you so much! I cherish every single one of you! Also, bless my beta Jade for being awesome and giving me the needed feedback!

Crown (wear my love like a)
Chapter 2

"So, let me know if I got this right." Wells leaned on his cane and adjusted the straps of his backpack, using the time to take a breath and assimilate Clarke and Murphy's words. "After talking with Octavia, who turned out to be more enthusiastic about this whole marriage thing than we expected, some guy comes up to you and offers you a bracelet, which you refuse because Indra told you not to accept gifts from anyone but your future husband, then because of his reaction, you now suspect that the guy is actually said future husband?"

Clarke used the break to check her flashlight's batteries, and nodded in agreement.

"And you think you've managed to make him angry with you?"

"Do you need me to break it down in pictures for you to finally get it?" Murphy snarled from the front, his flashlight swinging almost violently as he turned around to see what was taking them so long.

Noticing Clarke's rigid posture and the frown on her face, Wells chose to ignore Murphy's jab and clenched his jaw.

His abdomen was still hurting him and it made it hard to walk, but Wells was adamant in his decision to accompany Clarke and Murphy on their night walk. Getting woken up by bitching Murphy in the middle of the night, with words like "Clarke needs you" and "She might have fucked up the courtship", was not Wells' idea for a pleasant wake up call. But he was still grateful – this was something that was not so easily resolved, and it would need all three of them to set it right. And some outside help, which was why they were going to Anya's village.

Anya was one of the few Grounders that genuinely liked them – Clarke mostly – and she was their highest and so far only chance at getting some answers and maybe some advice on how to proceed.

"Fuck off." His comeback was mediocre at best, but Wells couldn't afford to spare Murphy any more of his attention and energy. "And you're sure you've never met him before?"

Clarke was turning the flashlight in her hands and shrugged – this was the first time Wells was seeing her being so fidgety and distracted, almost pensive in her attempt to figure it out.

"I don't remember." She said at last and Wells sighed; she seemed burdened enough as it was and Wells was hesitant to push her.

Murphy, however, wasn't.

"That's the thing – you don't remember."

Clarke turned to regard him silently and Murphy met her gaze head on.

Wells pointed his flashlight at Murphy. "What is he talking about?" Something was happening here and Wells didn't like being out of the loop.

"Nothing," Clarke's tone suggested that the conversation was over and bypassed Murphy as she continued along the path they were taking.

Murphy's lips tightened and he cursed. "You're too full of yourself, Griffin."

His yell did nothing to deter Clarke from her walk, so Murphy turned to face Wells and squinted against the sharp light of the flashlight.

"She hit her head when we took Mount Weather; some parts of her memory about it are still fuzzy around the edges."

Wells' astonished "What?" was mostly overshadowed by Clarke's frustrated "I asked you to keep one thing to yourself, Murphy, and you went and did the opposite!"

She came back huffing, glaring daggers at Murphy, who looked bored with the whole fiasco and leaned on one of the trees for support.

"That's because you're being uncharacteristically stupid."

Her glare didn't ease and Murphy rolled his eyes.

"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about you having a head injury?" Wells' tone was even and flat, not giving way to his increasing worry and annoyance, but Clarke and Murphy – had gotten adept at reading between the lines – he was slowly but steadily getting angry, patience wearing thin.

"Because it was nothing serious." Clarke ruffled her hair, massaging the still tender spot on the side of her head; few days ago it had been one hell of a bump.

"Except the part where you have some blank spots." Murphy quipped in, for once staring at Clarke with disapproval she thought only Wells was capable of mustering.

Wells rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. "Clarke, look at me." When she stubbornly refused, he prodded her with his cane. "Look at me."

She did and her shoulders sagged in defeat as she braced for whatever Wells was about to say.

"Your head?"

Clarke's fingers brushed against the tender spot one more time, before dropping by her sides. It had happened so fast – a small controlled explosion going off in one of the corridors, meant to push them back, slow them down, kill them, a last defense for the Mountain Men. The blast had thrown Clarke across the room, against the wall and her head had exploded with pain. Black spots, pain, dust in the air, blood, ringing in her ears, injured Grounders, chaos – that's all she remembered from those few precious moments. Anya had been with her and her dislocated shoulder was all Clarke had needed to push her own pain and dizziness aside and focus on making sure that the Grounders that were still alive could continue with the siege. The rest was a blur – Murphy's concerned face, hugging Monty, shooting one of the Mountain guards in the chest, cages, so many cages, finding Harper (they were late, too late), tending to an injury after an injury, an endless cycle of relief and guilt and loss and happiness, Octavia's war cry when they finally took the mountain, the never-ending horde of Grounders' prisoners (pale, weak, but with a fire burning in their eyes, white undergarments stained red, yelling about their victory as loudly as the rest).

"I'm better." At Wells' disbelieving look, she reluctantly corrected herself. "I'm getting better."

Wells counted to ten and turned off his flashlight, blending with the dark and hiding his expression from sight. Frankly, he wasn't surprised that she had kept it from him – with him still recovering from his operation and already nervous about the Mount Weather attack, she probably didn't want to put more strain on him. Still, it hurt; he thought they were over keeping secrets from each other, especially when it came to their well-being (yes, even Murphy's as much as it stung to admit that).

"Does your mother know? Jackson?" But it was rhetorical; he would have heard – Abby Griffin was not one to let a thing like this go lightly, she would have created a ruckus how Clarke was wrong to want to go in the first place. And if Jackson knew, then Abby knew as well, so he was out of the question as well. "A person with some medical knowledge?" There weren't many of those on the Ark.

Her silence was more than enough to get an answer to that, too.

She pulled her shoulders back and took the few steps that were separating them until she could bump her shoulder against his.

"I told Murphy what to look for if it was something serious." Murphy did a sloppy salute when Wells glanced at him. "You know how he gets – being a pain in my ass all the time, always hovering over my shoulder, and poking me to judge my reactions."

The smile was on his lips before Wells could stop it – that definitely was something Murphy would do – looking after Clarke in his own way and annoying her the rest of the time, and with flourish and drive he usually didn't put in his work.

"You think it's possible that you've met him then?"

"Knowing our luck, yes." Murphy ruffled his hair and let his head hit the tree with a soft thump.

Clarke hummed in agreement next to Wells and turned around until she was facing him. "Are you mad?"

Wells made the mistake to look at her – she was biting her lip, eyes wide and worried as she stared right back, so earnest in her sincerity that he didn't stand a chance.

"No, not really."

Her smile was worth it, though. "Thank you."

He turned his flashlight back on. "What are friends for?"

Murphy made a retching sound. "You two make me sick."

Clarke swatted Murphy on the back of his head and Wells grinned.

They were going to overthrow this mountain as well.

Even with sleep-tousled hair and disgruntled expression on her face, Anya still looked intimidating.

Clarke's smile was genuine when they finally got to see her, and it grew wider when she noticed that despite her protests, Anya had kept the make-shift immobilizer for her shoulder that Clarke had made and was actually using it.

"Do you Sky People have no concept of time?"

Clarke winced – it was close to four in the morning after all – but they couldn't afford to waste more time.

"I'm sorry, Anya, it's urgent."

The Grounder considered the situation for a moment, before she nodded and waved her guard aside. Then, she turned around to enter the main building and Clarke, Wells and Murphy followed.

Anya sprawled on one of the few chairs, leaving them to pick a spot around the round table.

"I hear congratulations are in order."

The bone bracelet sat heavy in her pocket, yet Clarke found the strength to accept Anya's words with a smile.

"News travel fast."

"You'd be surprised at how many people are interested in you, Clarke." There was amusement in Anya's tone, despite the hardness in her eyes that told of the seriousness of her statement.

Clarke paused and Murphy shifted in his chair, also having caught on Anya's allusion.

"It is, after all, probably the most important courtship since the Commander's."

"Actually, that's the reason we're here." Wells cut right to the heart of the matter; Anya knew them, they knew her (somewhat), this polite parade was not something they needed to do.

The Grounder leaned forward and Clarke sneaked a hand in her pocket to run her fingers over the smooth surface of the bone bracelet; surprisingly, it gave her the needed boost to face this.

"What's going to happen tonight? How does the courtship even start? And for heaven's sake, what's with the rules?"

Anya laughed – a full-throated open laugh, which ended with a shake of her head. "Only you, Clarke, will agree to something like this without knowing what you're getting yourself into."

Clarke frowned and tried to object, but Anya shouted something in the Grounders' language and one of the guards entered. The two exchanged few words, and then the guard left.

A minute later, two guys came in carrying a plate with meat, few pieces of the sweet bread the Grounders loved to make, a jug of mead and four little metal cans.

Anya thanked them and poured a moderate amount of the mead in her can before downing it all in one breath. Brushing the moisture from her mouth, Anya pushed the plate closer to them.

"Eat; this is going to take a while."

Murphy was the first to fill his can and taste the mead. After deeming it passable, he filled Clarke's can and pushed the jug towards Wells, who opted to skip drinking for now and instead broke a piece of the sweet bread. The meat was a bit stringy, but the herbs were just right, and it tasted amazing despite the fact that it was long cold.

"You'll meet the Elders tonight. With Ems dead, they're down to three now – Angela, Crux, and Merley. Angela is the one you need to look out for. If you want this courtship to succeed you'll need her on your side or she'll make it damn near impossible for you to keep this treaty from falling apart."

Clarke swallowed another piece of the meat and washed it down with some mead.

"How do I do that?"

"Prove her that you're a good match for Bellamy."

Murphy snorted and waved his hand around. "You hear that, Clarke? Just be a good match."

Wells kicked him under the table and Murphy kicked him back.

Used to their antics by now, Clarke focused on Anya. "Why Angela? Why not the others?"

"She's a frail looking lady but she's the one who holds the most power and influence amongst all the Grounder tribes. She's also the one who looked after Octavia and Bellamy when their mother died, and the reason why Octavia was made Commander even though there were two other candidates for Commander."

Politics, Clarke inwardly groaned, she hated politics.

"Right. I'll…figure something out."

Clarke was aware how pathetic that sounded, but everybody chose to ignore it.

"There'll be a feast from what I remember, ten people on each side plus the Elders. You'll start with a blessing from the Elders and then Bellamy will give you the first courting gift – it can be anything, usually it's something small that you can wear every day as a token of his intention. Then you eat, talk, get to know each other."

That sounded normal; well, nowhere near normal by the Ark standards, but Clarke had expected something a lot more drastic.

"Huh," Clarke had no idea how Murphy managed to sound so let down while still chewing his food. "I was hoping for at least some naked dancing and blood sacrifices or something."

Anya's glare was a lot more effective than Clarke's – Murphy raised his hands in surrender and went back to eating (he was never one to refuse free food, not after the Ark).

"And the rules?"

Anya shrugged despite her bad shoulder.

"You can't be seen favouring other Grounders than Bellamy, so no accepting gifts or favours from anyone but him, and if you do, then it has to be in his presence, with his permission."

Wells used his bread to soak up some of the herbs from the meat. "Why the restrictions?"

"Old habits." Anya's response was flippant at best, but somehow Clarke suspected it wasn't just that. "Same reason why once the Courtship is official you won't be allowed to spend time alone with Bellamy, there'll always be a third person with you two."

Everything else she could understand, but this right here was the one thing that left her the most confused – wasn't the point of the whole courtship to get to know one another? And if so, why was it necessary for a third person to breathe down their necks?

"But why?"

Anya's smile was all teeth. "We can't have you consummating the courtship before your Moon night."

Murphy choked on his mead, and started coughing and laughing at the same time, red in the face from the lack of oxygen. "Now this right here is golden."

Wells next to her had frozen in his place and Clarke could swear that his ears were red with embarrassment.

Clarke herself was a bit flustered and she groaned when Murphy kept on laughing his wheezy little laughs while clutching at his stomach. "I don't have the intention of sleeping with somebody I barely know!"

"That's what you say now."

She hid her face in her hands and threw a piece of her bread at Murphy; right now, Anya seeing her childish side was the least of her worries.

"And the gifts?" She managed at last, peering at Anya from behind her fingers and blond hair.

"All made by hand specifically for the courtship. You're lucky – Bellamy is a gifted craftsman."

Clarke felt the uneasiness creeping in. Bellamy really was a master craftsman, the bracelet was exquisite – every little bone was polished to perfection, the brown leather cord that was holding them together was braided in little knots and twists. It fitted snuggly around her wrist the one time she tried it on and she loved the two little mismatched glass beads at the end of the cord. Thankfully, the fire hadn't left any lasting damage on it; it would have been such a shame otherwise.

"He's supposed to give me the first one tonight?"

"Yes." After a moment, Anya narrowed her eyes. "Did he- of course he did. Show me."

"I-" Clarke wanted to plead innocence, but this was too big to play dumb.

She took the bracelet out and gingerly placed it on top of the table. Anya looked it over, nodding in appreciation, but she was careful not to touch it.

"Why aren't you wearing it then?"

Murphy placed his can on the table and flicked it over, watching it as it rolled slowly across the table and left droplets behind. "Because her soon to be courtship partner is a bit of a jerk. Clarke didn't recognize him in the dark and he took it a bit too hard." His eyes were cold and his jaw was clenched – this was his look when he was getting ready for a fight.

Anya assessed him, trying to make him back down, but he was holding his ground and endured her heavy gaze, refusing to give her the pleasure of seeing him cower. Clarke wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he was holding tightly onto his knife. He was finally dropping all pretense and sarcasm and being serious about this.

"It was a misunderstanding; tell us how to fix it."

The Grounder pushed her mead away.

"You'll do well to listen."

Clarke bit back her relieved smile and mentally made a note to see what she could do to get Murphy a Grounder dagger (he had been secretly salivating after one since Lincoln pulled one on him); he had definitely earned it.

Clarke fiddled with her jacket sleeve making sure that the bracelet was visible (and if you ask Murphy the white bones shone like beacons in the dark) and pushed her hair back in place. She was as prepared as she could get and she was aware that anything else was out of her hands, but she still couldn't help but worry.

Murphy touched her elbow and she turned around to see Octavia and her entourage approaching. Clarke's group slowed down and she felt Wells when he fell in step behind her, his steady presence keeping her calm.

"Clarke." Octavia greeted her and offered her hand.

Clarke grasped it by the wrist (she had learned this greeting from Anya a long time ago); Octavia's fingers were strong and unrelenting in their hold.

"You've chosen well." The Commander nodded her head, indicating the group of people behind Clarke and Clarke's chest swelled with pride.

She was pleased with her group as well – Wells, Murphy, Kane, her mother, Nathan and his dad, Monty, Drew, and Sterling. Apart from Kane and her mother, the rest were firmly on her side (Miller's dad was still an unknown, but Nathan was working on that). She hadn't been sure about bringing Monty and Miller in the first place, but they were starting to feel too cooped up in the camp, and after Nathan almost started a fight, Clarke decided they needed some time away. Raven stayed behind with Finn, and Wick was keeping an eye on them.

"Thank you."

From the people behind Octavia, Clarke recognized Lincoln, Indra, Anya and supposedly Bellamy. The others were faces Clarke was familiar with but didn't know the names of.

Not one for making small talk, Octavia turned to her left and made her brother step out.

"This is Bellamy. Bell, this is Clarke."

Clarke tried to smile at him, but her attempt fell flat when she noticed his blank face.

"We've met." Was his curt reply and Clarke had to remind herself that punching him in the face was not an option here (not yet).

"You have?" Octavia was surprised for a moment before the light dancing along Clarke's bracelet caught her attention. The stare she leveled Bellamy with spoke about an impending scowling. "I see. Well, maybe we should give you a moment then."

The Grounders followed their Commander and with a reassuring smile from Clarke, the Ark entourage did as well.

"You're wearing it." He sounded confused; the furrow between his eyebrows only added to that.

Clarke tugged on the two hanging cords from the bracelet and the beads clicked together. "You gave it to me."

"You didn't seem too keen on accepting it in the first place."

"Yes, well, I didn't recognize you at first and you were fast to leave."

He smiled crookedly and Clarke's gaze was drawn to his full chapped lips, to the small mess of freckles under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose, the length of his lashes and the pleasant shade of his deep brown eyes. All of a sudden she was aware of the fact that he was actually attractive and she nearly shivered under his intense scrutiny.

"I suppose I looked differently covered in blood in Mount Weather."

Flashes of naked skin, a bloody syringe in one hand, hair matted in red, a wild look in dark eyes, ink spirals twisting and turning and begging to be chased with fingers.

Clarke blinked and chased the image away for now, storing it for future inquiry.

"And I was distracted then. Shall we start anew? I'm Clarke, Clarke Griffin of the Sky People."

"Belomi kom Trigedakru."

He offered his left arm and she did too, belatedly realizing that that was the arm her bracelet was on, and he let his fingers wrap around it carefully before twisting her arm a bit and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the white bones, keeping her gaze with his.

"You'll be one of us soon."

Her breath hitched and she wanted to protest the treatment; this guy was impossible – one moment he was angry with her, turning his back on her, leaving her confused and worried, then he was cold, aloof, cautious, teasing, making her head spinning – one after the other, with no break in between. Just who exactly was Bellamy?

"You'll have a long time to romance her, boy. Move along, I don't have all night." Yelled a voice from behind them making Clarke jump and pull her hand back while Bellamy chuckled.

"As always, you're completely right, Ela."

The woman that came to them was well over her sixties, with stern face and graying hair, leaning on her staff (that, conveniently, had quite the sharp blade attached to it), and excluding power and confidence one wouldn't usually associate with her wiry small body.

The black eyes that met Clarke's spoke of ages of wisdom and sharp wit, cunningness and spilled blood, and Clarke fought the urge to shrink back from her.

"We shall see about that." With that Ela – which Clarke concluded must be short for Angela – made her way to the tent the Grounders had set up for the celebration of the courtship.

If that was the Elder that Anya had warned her about, Clarke had a lot of work to do.

Bellamy tossed the hair out of his eyes and glanced at Clarke, the amusement making his eyes come alive and appearing much livelier, more approachable.

"Shall we?"

Clarke closed her eyes, emptied her mind and found that silver line inside her that pulsed in beat with her heart and soul, and let it ground her, relax and calm her.

I can do this.

She moved a step forward, opened her eyes, and took another, and then another, and another, until she was no longer thinking about the motion, and then the flap of the tent opened and she entered side by side with Bellamy.

The cheers were deafening.

But all Clarke was aware of was the comforting weight of the bracelet and the clinking of the beads.

Ba-dum-tss! Next chapter we'll see the Elders' blessing and Clarke will have to be careful with Angela as the actual plot starts to take shape ;)

- M.