Word Count: 3,233
AN: My unexpected short hiatus is over. Thank you for your unwavering support and for being patient precious cupcakes! Thank you Jade for beta'ing for me so fast!
Crown (wear my love like a)
Chapter 3
"The celebration and the ceremony are basically the first tests." Anya shifted in her seat and let her injured arm rest on the table. "You'll be judged from the first moment you step into that tent - from what you're wearing and how you're holding yourself to the people you've brought to represent you."
Apprehension was making her queasy and Clarke pushed aside her drink and refused the piece of bread Wells offered her.
"You need ten people in total, including you. Choose carefully. While the Commander might know some of your people and approve of them, the Elders don't, and this courtship relies heavily on what the Elders deem worthy."
Murphy and Wells shared a glance and Clarke knew that the moment this meeting was over, they would have a list with possible candidates.
"The ceremony itself can vary from courtship to courtship. I don't know which version you'll get, but you'll need to be careful."
Wells swallowed the piece of meat he was chewing and brushed the crumbs of bread off his jacket. "Is she going to be in any danger?"
"She'll always be in danger until this is over." Anya drained the last of the mead in her can. "But those who don't agree with the courtship won't act tonight, not with Angela present. Clarke might shed few drops of blood if the ceremony asks for it, but that will be all."
"So there is some blood sacrifice after all," Murphy smirked and poured more mead in both his and Anya's cans. "Good thing that you're used to that, Clarke."
Clarke kicked him under the table and his smile turned into a grimace; Anya sighed and Wells broke off another piece of the sweet bread.
Despite the rust on it, the dagger still managed to look deadly and imposing.
Angela offered it handle first to Clarke and she took it, being careful not to let the claws serving as cross-guard nick her skin. Clarke knew what she was supposed to do - Anya had told her about the rites she familiar with, and this one was one of them - but the rust on the blade and the thought that she had to draw a line across her hand with it made her feel uneasy. It wasn't the coming pain as much as the possibility of catching some disease from it that had her heating the blade over one of the candles around them.
Nobody reacted to that, though she caught one of the Elders - Crux - scoffing at her and she had to really focus to keep her hand steady when she dipped the hot blade into one of the water goblets on the table.
Had she already done something that spoke ill of her?
But there was no time to think it over and Clarke let the sharp blade slide across the inner side of her right wrist, creating a shallow cut in its wake and bringing blood to the surface. She offered the dagger to Bellamy, who did the same, and Angela brought their wrists over a chipped ceramic bowl, adding their blood to the other ingredients that were already inside. Then, the Elder mixed them together and dipped in her thumb.
She left a red imprint on Clarke's lips and then on Bellamy's. It smelled of herbs and tasted like mead, with the sharp undertone of iron. The rest of the mixture Angela poured over their cuts and Clarke had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop her hand from jerking; it stung pretty badly and she itched to rub it away.
Bellamy clasped her hand by her bloody wrist and she did the same to his. He smiled at her and tightened his grip when he noticed her silent shaky exhale - his way of sending her a small encouragement that she was doing well. (Or so she hoped.)
Merley put her hand on top of theirs and took one of the lit candles. She brought it to Clarke's face and bore her unseeing eyes into hers.
"Are you entering this courtship out of your free will?"
The heat of the flame was making Clarke's eyes water, but she managed to blink away the tears and held Merley's stare. (Clarke couldn't help but wonder how the Elder knew where her face was when she was completely blind.)
"I am."
Her breath barely made the flame flutter and Merley nodded her head in approval. She drew back and let Clarke have the space needed to lean forward and kiss Bellamy on the cheek.
This close, Clarke could see the freckles under Bellamy's right eye that formed a little star and she hid her smile against his skin, letting her lips brush his cheek and leave a red trace behind. It was weird kissing a person she barely knew, but it was part of the ceremony and Clarke didn't have much of a choice. Not that it was a chore to kiss him on the cheek; she just would have preferred to do it of her free will and want.
As if sensing her thoughts on the matter, Bellamy's fingers twitched against her wrist and his eyes darkened as he too answered with "I am." His peck was firmer compared to hers, yet didn't feel intrusive and Clarke was more aware of the warmth he left behind than the unpleasant sticky imprint of his lips.
Bellamy's blood was slowly trickling down her fingers and she could feel his pulse beating in tandem with hers. That shouldn't have made her feel excited but the way he held himself, so confident and tall, his grip strong and warm, and his dark brown eyes not once straying from her face - it made her heart beat faster and she didn't know what to make of it.
It was too soon to call it attraction, but Clarke was sure that soon it would be nothing but the truth. There was something in Bellamy that made her curious and eager for the times their bodies would get in touch and lightning zaps of electricity would leave goosebumps in their wake as they race down her spine and have her paying attention to nothing else but their point of touch.
Clarke was snapped out of her thoughts when Bellamy let go of her wrist and he lifted an eyebrow when she reacted a bit late. Her hand felt empty and cold without his and she let it hang listlessly at her side. But as Angela stepped up to continue the ceremony, Clarke pushed those silly thoughts away and focused on the task at hand.
"The gift?" The Elder addressed Bellamy and he turned around motioning for a timid looking Grounder girl to approach.
Clarke's breath hitched - the girl was carrying the most magnificent fur cloak she had ever seen. It was dark blue, almost black and as Bellamy took it out of her arms, Clarke noticed a tiny bone pin that she suspected was supposed to keep the cloak in place.
He draped it around her shoulders and Clarke was pleasantly surprised by the softness and lightness of the cloak. Somewhere in the back, Murphy was snickering about princesses and capes and the lack of white horses, but her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears and she paid him no attention.
"The cloak is yours if you will have me."
Clarke was silent for too long and Wells cleared his throat loudly from behind her. She bit her lip and resisted the urge to turn around and stick her tongue out at him. Couldn't she enjoy the moment?
"I'll have the cloak." Bellamy took her left hand in his. "And I'll have you too."
He smirked, lifted her hand and placed a kiss on top of the bone bracelet that sat there, just like he had done right before the ceremony.
People cheered and clapped around them as the Elders gave them the last blessing, but Clarke was mesmerized by the playfulness in Bellamy's eyes and the promises that lurked below the surface. He had her completely enchanted and Clarke felt like she had lost a battle.
Yet, she didn't feel bad at all.
Mingle, that was what Anya had said she had to do.
But fuck it was exhausting.
Clarke would catch glimpses of her entourage as she mingled, letting polite words roll off her tongue and controlling her expression, straining to remember every single bit of information and storing it in the back of her mind for later use. Wells was making small talk with a Grounder and Murphy brooded next to him (at least he was staying out of trouble). Monty and Nathan were perfectly content to sit at their table and sample the food while Drew and Sterling were trying to outdrink a pair of Grounders. Her mother, Kane and Nathan's dad were engaged in conversation with Lincoln and Indra, and Octavia and Bellamy were having a quiet talk at the end of the long wooden table.
She lost track of time - the Elders' questions sure kept her on her toes and required her full attention - and she gratefully welcomed Bellamy's touch on her elbow as he steered her away from them and made her take one of the chairs, a full plate of food sitting on the table in front. Just now smelling the seasoning of the dish Clarke realized how hungry she truly was as her mouth watered and her empty stomach complained. She broke off a piece of the bread and dipped it into the thick broth, quietly moaning as the rich flavour filled her mouth and warmed her insides.
Bellamy chuckled as he sat next to her and Clarke flushed, hurrying to swallow her bite and cover her embarrassing reaction.
"Thank you. I guess I'm quite hungry."
He inclined his head and scratched the bandage on his right hand; Clarke's was itching as well, but she knew better than to aggravate the self-inflicted injury.
She ate to the sounds of Sky people and Grounders talking and Bellamy watching her every move. It was unnerving but also strangely comforting, like the times Murphy would keep watch over her or Wells would help her stand her ground against her mother.
"Is it weird?"
Clarke pushed away her plate and blinked at him, confused and at a loss.
"Our customs, the way we live. Is it weird for you?"
She didn't answer right away; instead, she chose to really think it through.
"I wouldn't say weird. Different, yes, but not weird. It's like the more I get to know you and your culture, the more your rituals make sense. Of course, I'm pretty sure that there will always be things that leave me baffled or that I don't agree with, but just because I don't understand them or believe in them doesn't mean I get the right to judge." Clarke turned in her seat to face him and tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear. "I bet some of our customs will seem weird to you."
"Just how different is it living among the stars?"
"It felt normal because it was the only thing I knew. We were told stories of Earth and how it used to be, but all we knew were the metal corridors of the Ark; Earth was just another unreachable dream for us until that changed too."
Bellamy didn't appear to be quite satisfied with her answer and Clarke decided to sate some more of his interest for the moment.
"The Ark was made of twelve stations that came together so that we could survive in space. Each station housed people from different countries and they specialized in different tasks. I was from Alpha Station, my mom worked in the Ark Medical while my dad was an engineer in Mecha. You can say that we had it better than most - Alpha was definitely one of the best places to live in." Not that it had protected her father in the end.
"That sounds like an easy life. No wonder your friend called you a princess." Bellamy looked over her shoulder and Clarke turned her head to the side to see Murphy saluting her with his drink.
It seemed she hadn't been the only one to hear his comment.
She was about to give Bellamy a talk down about how no, Alpha station or not, she hadn't been privileged at all (because nothing screamed elite like getting thrown into prison and having your dad floated for treason) when something else caught her attention.
"Wait," she frowned and caught Bellamy's amused gaze. "You know what a princess means?"
It was the wrong thing to say.
At once his expression closed off and the humor in his eyes got replaced by anger. Chills ran down Clarke's neck as she watched him sneer and the friendly banter got forgotten. His whole body was strung tight like a bow ready to snap and snap he did.
"I may not have grown up in a castle among the clouds, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, princess."
Bellamy went to push his chair back, but Clarke gripped his arm and held tight.
"Would you fucking stop doing this?" She narrowed her eyes and glared, her anger rising in response to his.
He leaned forward and his warm breath washed over her face and had her unconsciously leaning in until his cold words had her flinching back.
"Stop what? Stop being myself? I'm sorry to ruin your little fantasy, princess, but this is who I am. You, on the other hand, need to get off your high horse and stop acting all superior to me."
Her fingers dug into his arm - his right arm - and she experienced grim satisfaction when her nails scratched his open gash and he winced. The fucking idiot deserved it for always jumping to the wrong conclusions around her.
Clarke could feel the tension in his arm and she relaxed her grip a bit, cautious of his reaction. "I've never undermined you or looked down on you, so get that foolish idea out of your head. I was merely surprised that useless notions like princess and castles and fairy tales had survived and found a place in this new world we live in."
The weight of Bellamy's gaze was almost impossible to bear, but Clarke held strong until he found the answer he was looking for. He leaned back in his chair and some of the tension left his frame.
He regarded her for a moment and then started speaking. "When she was little, Octavia had trouble falling asleep. My mother used to read her stories from this old book we had to help her feel at ease and drift off. When my mother died, I took over." There was a hint of sadness in his voice and Clarke held her breath, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere. "Even now, I still remember most of the stories."
The quick quirk of his lips happened too fast to be called a smile, but Clarke counted it a win. It was not the apology she wanted but Bellamy was offering her an olive branch and she was willing take it and try again.
"You like reading then?" She let go of his wrist and the blood under her fingernails had her feeling guilty; she had wanted to make him stay and listen, and he had, but she had also made him bleed again.
He didn't push her hands away when she pulled his sleeve up and unwrapped the bloody bandage to look over the damage she had inflicted.
"I do, but books are scarce these days. Polis has some yet trading for them is hell."
"Do you have a favorite book then? Or a story?"
Thankfully, the cut didn't look any worse - Clarke had only managed to re-open it again. She dipped the bandage in her water, gently cleaned the gash and then wrapped the bandage around his wrist once more.
"Not really, though I'm partial to mythology, and history fascinates me."
Reluctantly, she let go of his arm and let her hands fall into her lap. Her fingers found the beads of her bracelet and started turning them around - a nervous tick she couldn't seem to break.
"My knowledge of mythology is rather limited I'm afraid, history is my stronger side."
The last traces of irritation disappeared from his face and he smiled cheekily.
"Could it be that the princess is actually admitting to not being good at something?"
Clarke rolled her eyes and mentally cursed Murphy for his big mouth. She had a feeling that Bellamy was getting rather attached to the nickname; as if having one person harass her was not enough.
"Drop the princess thing. And I'll have you know that I'm not perfect. I just..." Here, she struggled for words. The conversation was going in a direction too close to home and tonight, she didn't feel like breaching that particular topic.
But he seemed to understand. "You just try your best."
Her surprise must have showed on her face because he just shrugged and used his good hand to mess his hair.
"My brother is pretty much the same."
Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Octavia's voice. She hadn't heard her coming and the Commander had spoken from right behind her back. Bellamy straightened in his seat and scoffed at his sister's teasing words.
"I'm sorry to break your cozy setting, but the celebration is over for the night. Clarke, your people are waiting for you."
And indeed, most of her entourage was leaving through the opening in the tent while Wells and Murphy were looking at her direction and waiting for her to join them. Disappointment curled in her chest; she had been hoping to spend more time with Bellamy, getting to know each other better.
He stood up and she did as well.
"I'll come by tomorrow morning."
Clarke nodded in agreement and he wavered for a moment before gently brushing fingers over her bracelet in goodbye. His earnest expression had her biting her lip to stop her smile from showing. God, he was confusing and quick to anger and was driving her crazy most of the time, but fuck it if he wasn't adorable and had his moments.
Octavia smirked knowingly and bid Clarke goodnight, pushing her brother away and letting Clarke get to Wells and Murphy.
Wells was smiling softly while Murphy was shaking his head.
"What?" Clarke felt rather defensive and crossed her arms across her chest. .
"My poor lamb is so taken with the wolf that she doesn't notice the sharp teeth around her neck before it gets too late."
Clarke glared and pushed past him and walked out of the tent. She could do without his morbid humor raining down on her.
"And, by the way," his shout had the rest of the entourage turning around to witness what it was about. "That kiss stain on your cheek looks ridiculous up close!"
She was vaguely aware that Wells hit Murphy with his cane as she furiously wiped at her cheek, trying to get the red paste off (as well as to push back the memory of Bellamy's lips against her skin).
Fucking Murphy, she was going to kill him one day.
And the courtship is finally official! Clarke finally made Bellamy stop running away from her after he, once again, got the wrong impression, Murphy is still a jackass and Wells is definitely praying for patience.
Feedback is most welcome!
- M.