Clarke

Clarke called for Yana and asked for food and drink. Yana obeyed, bringing in trays heaped with delicious things, and she placed them down, her eyes flickering to Bellamy, who was standing by the window again.

"Did he make you cry?" she asked softly, her brown eyes full of worry.

"No," Clarke assured her, knowing her face was mottled, her eyes red from weeping. "No, he's safe." She didn't know how much she meant those words until they left her lips, and she felt a pang- to have Bellamy here, beside her, it felt like things could actually get better. She hugged Yana and said, "We need some time alone though. Can you stay somewhere else tonight?"

"Of course," Yana said, hugging her back and then tossing one more curious look in Bellamy's direction before leaving them alone.

"Eat," Clarke offered him, picking off some fruit and taking a bite. She wasn't hungry, but her stomach was churning and she hoped this would help. Bellamy stayed by the window, not speaking, not looking at her, for a long time, before he finally pushed off the wall and came back. Yana had placed the tray of food next to Clarke's bed, but Bellamy took a seat across from her, on Yana's bed. He didn't touch the food.

"What is this, Clarke?" he asked her. "I thought you were a prisoner."

"It's… complicated," she said slowly. "Elody wants an alliance with us. After everything that's happened, I was thinking that might be a good thing."

Bellamy pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. She watched him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. "Please don't tell me that all this time, you've been up here, doing just fine, not in any danger." He opened his eyes and looked at her, and he did sincerely seem to want her to say that. "Lincoln died so we could find you, Clarke."

Horror slammed into her with such force she was afraid she might vomit. "What?" she breathed. "How? When?"

"A few days ago," Bellamy answered. "When we were in another goddamn mountain… they had Octavia, and we were trying to get her out. He was murdered by a little girl… an assassin, sent by the queen."

Clarke pushed the tray of food away and she looked at him seriously. "You have to tell me everything."

"And you have to tell me everything," he said urgently. His eyes looked as desperate as the day she'd left him at the gates of Camp Jaha. "Have you been here all this time?"

"No," she answered. "I was alone for a while, in the forest… I'm not sure for how long. I just kept walking." She brought her hand up and rubbed her temples, hardly knowing where to start.

Bellamy reached out and grabbed her hand, startling her. He held it close to his face and gently separated her fingers. The roughness of his palm where he cradled her hand made her shiver, but she pulled it back from him.

"What are those?" he asked her. He reached for her again, but she sat on both her hands, shaking her head. "Clarke, what are those? Did they use those darts on you?" He looked furious.

In spite of herself, her surprise took over and she asked, "How do you know about those?"

"I've seen them in action… used on Octavia, and then on Lexa."

Clarke held her breath. "You saw Lexa?"

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah," he said. "We brought her here."

"Why?" she demanded, utterly dismayed. "Bellamy, why would you do that?"

"Because it's what I had to do," he said urgently. "To keep Octavia safe. To keep you safe. Besides, I didn't know it was her until it was too late."

"This was all planned," she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "How did she know?"

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy asked her, and there was an edge of alarm in his voice. She felt his hand close over the back of her neck but she just shook her head. "Clarke, please talk to me," he urged her.

She looked up and he had stood up from Yana's bed and moved over. He was standing close to her, his eyes full of worry and something else- fear? Desperation? Clarke reached out and wrapped her arms around him, laying her cheek against his stomach. If Bellamy was surprised, he didn't show it. His fingers slipped into her hair, stroking gently.

"Clarke," he said again. "Will you please just-"

"I killed her," she said suddenly, louder than she meant to, interrupting him. She felt his hand freeze on her head.

"What? Who?"

She turned her face up and looked at him. Softly she said, "You know who."

Bellamy stared at her for a moment, and she tried very hard to read him. There was such complexity to his expression, but she could see that one of his primary emotions was shock.

The moment Clarke felt tears welling up in her eyes, they were already falling. She saw Lexa's body again, felt her own hand plunging downward, felt the knife burying itself in Lexa's chest. "Oh my God," she choked out, hardly believing it had really happened, that any of this could be real. Her arms tightened around him as though she could use him as an anchor to fend off the truth.

Clarke felt Bellamy's hands cradling her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. She looked up at him, locked eyes with him, and as she watched him searching her gaze, she wondered if he actually believed her. "When?" he asked finally.

"Just now," she whispered. "Right before you came here. It's why I was crying." She shook her head, letting out a choking sob. "Why couldn't you have come before?" As if it would have made a difference.

Now he believed her. He seemed to be struggling with what to say next, but he didn't let go of her face, and she was glad of it. She kept his eyes, trying to find strength in his gaze, trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

Bellamy finally let go of her, but only so he could reach down and pick up her hand, looking at it again. She watched as he carefully spread her fingers, examined the holes that lined each tender curve of flesh. "They've been torturing you." It wasn't a question. "They made you do this."

She took her hand back, and as much as she didn't want to, she pulled away from him and stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't understand."

"Then help me," he said. "Just tell me what the hell is going on. Tell it to me so it makes sense, Clarke."

Tears welled up in her eyes again and she shook her head. "I don't know how." She paced the room for a moment, feeling his eyes tracking her movements, feeling his concern. No longer speaking to him she muttered, "She deserved punishment… she had to answer for her crimes… I was the victim, I had to be the one to do it… that's how we do things, that's how justice works. I-"

"Clarke!" Bellamy interrupted sharply. She blinked rapidly, looked at him, saw the worry written all over his face. She watched as he looked to the dart marks again, saw him shake his head. "Okay," he said finally, and she recognised the change in his voice- this was decisive Bellamy, calculating Bellamy- he was making a plan. She was surprised just how comforting that tone was. "Okay, we need to get you out of here," he said. "Right now, we need to get you, and we need to get Octavia, and just we need to get home. We can figure everything else out later."

He grabbed her arm and pulled, but she resisted, standing still. She watched him stop, watched him turn back to face her. The dismayed expression on his face broke her heart, but she still didn't move.

"Please, Clarke," he said, his voice gruff, and she recognised the desperate quality to it, the distress. "This is why I came here," he tried. "Just… please. Let me take you home."

"No, I can't just leave," she insisted, shaking her head. "All this can't be for nothing."

"No, all this can't be for nothing!" he exclaimed, letting go of her hand to rake his own over his face. He pointed his finger at her. "Do you know how hard it was to get to you? How long it took? What we lost? What Octavia lost? And you just want to stay here?"

"No," she assured him, closing her eyes, shaking her head. "No, I don't want to stay here… but I want this alliance to happen, otherwise all of that-" she held up her hand "-and this will be for nothing."

Bellamy clawed his fingers through his hair, agitated, shaking his head. "Then what do you want me to do?" he demanded. "I'm just trying to keep you alive, but Octavia and I, we can't just wait around here- it's not safe. There's a reason she had you kill Lexa, Clarke, and I can't just stay here and wait it out on your word. Not with those marks on your hands, and not with how you're acting."

"How I'm acting?" she demanded, offended and angry that he refused to even consider her side. Maybe more offended that he was right. "You don't even know what's going on here, Bellamy, and you're so quick to judge. They have medicine- real medicine. An alliance with them could save hundreds of lives."

He seemed to hesitate, but still he shook his head. "It's not right, Clarke. Allies don't torture you until you agree to join them. You've got some kind of… I don't know… Stockholm's Syndrome or something."

Now she was even more offended, but she knew she couldn't fault him for what he thought. "I've been working hard up here, trying to make this alliance," she said carefully. "I can't just throw it all away now."

It seemed like that was the wrong thing to say. Bellamy's jaw clenched and he snapped, "No, Clarke, you've been hiding up here. You walked away from us and now I've come all the way up here to save you and you won't even come with me?"

They both seemed to realise, in unison, how absurd those words were. Bellamy spoke first. "Sorry," he said quietly. "You don't need saving." He shook his head. "I just… I need you home. You were gone too long, Clarke. Way too long."

"Bellamy," she said softly, curling her hand along his arm and squeezing. "I am coming home. But I want it to be for the right reasons… not because I'm scared or running away. Not again."

He met her eyes and after a long moment he nodded, stepping closer to her. He took her upper arms in his hands and rubbed his thumbs against her skin as he said softly, "How could you kill her? If it's not the torture, if you did it of your own free will… how? She said she loved you."

"Lexa told you that?" she asked, surprised. Her face flamed, not with embarrassment, but with discomfort- it felt wrong, that if anyone should have told him that, it should have been her. "That was before… everything." She glanced away from him, her heart quickening, because the truth was she couldn't believe she'd done it either.

Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened and Elody stood there, flanked by two guards. Clarke was surprised that the queen would make a personal appearance in her chamber, and she didn't like it- having her and Bellamy in the same room was like having separate worlds collide.

"Clarke," Elody said, smiling at her, sweeping her eyes over both of them and obviously noting the closeness of their bodies. "I see you and Bellamy have been reunited. Does that make you happy?"

"Very," Clarke said, but her voice was hollow. The queen didn't seem to notice as she looked at Bellamy curiously. Clarke felt him let go of her arms, and then his hand close around hers.

"We're leaving," he said.

"Bellamy," Clarke warned, trying to pull her hand away from him, but he only tightened his grip.

Elody was frowning at them both. "What is this?"

"Nothing," Clarke said quickly. "Nothing, he's just… we're just…" She trailed off, not sure exactly how to explain.

The queen's black eyes were fixed on Bellamy, and for a long moment no one spoke. Reverting her attention to Clarke she said, "Lexa's body will soon be prepared for transport."

"Transport?" Clarke asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Elody said with a nod. "Her head will be removed and set on a pike, and it will be taken to all eleven clan leaders, so they can see that their commander is truly dead- so there can be no doubt. Her body will be taken far to the north and buried deep in the ice."

Clarke stared at the queen in absolute horror, and a quick exchanged glance told her Bellamy felt exactly the same. This time when she pulled her hand away from him, he let her go.

"You can't do that," she said to Elody. "You and Lexa my have been enemies, but that's over now- she's dead. She deserves a proper funeral."

"What she deserves does not matter," the queen answered icily. "If she is given back to her people, they will set her on a pyre and release her to the winds. I cannot allow that to happen. If her body lays in the ice, her spirit will remain trapped, and she will not be able to meddle in my affairs."

Clarke didn't believe any of that, but she knew that it was wrong for Elody to treat her body with such disrespect. Carefully she said, "She's dead now… there's no reason to desecrate her body. Her culture, and the beliefs of her people, should be respected."

"Her people need to understand that I am in control now," Elody answered coldly. "What they believe does not concern me. You should be grateful to me. When I install you as Heda of the Coalition, you will have more power than you ever imagined."

Clarke drew in a sharp breath and she felt Bellamy tense beside her. She shook her head. "I don't want power," she said quietly. "Especially not like this."

Elody rolled her eyes. "Everyone wants power, Clarke. Even if it is to do good- think of the difference you can make in Lexa's place. You will be a better commander than she ever was."

"Clarke," Bellamy called urgently, squeezing her hand. Again he said, "We're leaving."

"You may go wherever you wish," Elody bit out. "But Clarke is staying with me. The clans will follow the Wanheda, especially now that Lexa is dead. You and your people have been invited to settle on my land… you will no longer be Sky People, but part of the Ice Nation."

"What?" Bellamy sputtered. His eyes slid to Clarke, and she knew she must have looked terrible- pale and red all at once, frightened and horrified at how this conversation was going.

She said to Elody, "I haven't decided any of that yet. I haven't even talked to him about it. Please… let me handle this."

"Are you going to fight me regarding the use of Lexa's body?" Elody asked, ignoring her plea. "Are you going to fight me when I install you as my right hand as Heda of the coalition?"

But Clarke knew she wasn't going to be Elody's right hand- she was going to be her puppet. Like she was now. Like she had been when she'd stabbed Lexa.

It was bad enough she'd killed Lexa, but now she was expected to stand by and watch her head be used as some kind of sick banner, while her body would be laid to rest thousands of kilometers away from her homeland, cold and alone? And then she, Clarke, was supposed to take her place, sit on her throne and force herself on all those people, like a dictator? Like a tyrant? No. It was too much. If this was the queen's plan, she wanted no part of it.

Angrily she bit out, "Yes, I'll fight you. What you're planning is wrong."

Elody's dark eyes turned to ice and her whole face changed. With clear rage she turned and gave a firm nod to her guards. They stepped out from behind her, and Clarke felt Bellamy's alarm palpable in the air beside her.

Before she could do anything she felt him grab her and pulled her behind him, spreading his arms out and backing up against her until, together, they hit the wall. Clarke seized the back of his jacket in her hands- trying to move him, calm him down, something- but Elody only seemed amused as the guards continued their advance on her.

Only it wasn't Clarke they were after at all. Instead, they grabbed Bellamy's arms and pulled him away from her. She tried to keep hold of him, but the big men were much stronger as they wrestled Bellamy to the ground. He fought, trying to get them off, trying to grab for any leverage he could, but it was useless.

"Please!" Clarke yelled to the queen. "Don't do this."

"This was your choice, Clarke," Elody growled. "I thought I had your loyalty, I offered you reward after reward, but now you spit in my face. Do you think I would let that go unpunished?"

Clarke opened her mouth to protest further, but she didn't know how. She looked into Bellamy's desperate eyes and felt herself freeze, felt her heart go cold with fear. Looking back to Elody, she tried to find the woman who she'd come to feel- finally, finally- was on her side, who wanted this alliance. But had that ever been real? She tried to think of something to say that would fix this, reverse it, but nothing was coming to her.

Before she could say even one word, she heard Bellamy let out a grunt and her attention was quickly drawn back to him. One of the guards was just standing up, and Clarke watched in horror as Bellamy's eyes rolled back in his head and he started to tremble, then convulse.

No one stopped Clarke as she rushed to his side, grabbing at his face, trying to get him to look at her, but he was caught in what looked like a seizure, totally unresponsive. All she could think was poison, something worse than the darts- something fatal.

"What did you do?!" she screamed at Elody.

"You will play your part in my plans, Clarke," the queen said, her voice edged with venom. "One way or another."

Clarke ignored her, cradling Bellamy's face in her hands shifting him into her lap and stroking his hair, trying to get him to open his eyes. She saw blood oozing from a puncture wound in his neck, and then she looked up at the guard, at his hand. He was holding an injector, the long needle coated in Bellamy's blood. Inside the chamber, the glass ampoule was almost empty. But there was just enough sunlight filtering through the window for it to catch the last few drops of liquid left in the vial, just enough for Clarke to see its colour- a vivid, brilliant red.