Summary: Non-canon, Drama/Romance, hopefully with some Action/Adventure thrown in. Bellarke, Linctavia and probably more once I get going. :D
Rated M – for adult themes.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing The 100, not for profit!
The Homestead
Chapter 6 – Clarke.
Clarke sat still and straight on the tower balcony with her legs hanging beneath her. She looked out over the capital illuminated around her, whispers of light in the emptiness of the night.
She hated being inside the tower, and rarely stayed there, but she did love being out on the balcony, especially in the dark. It was the closest she had been to the stars, since dropping to Earth from the Ark so many moons ago.
Usually Clarke slept and spent what little personal time she had in a modest building on the ground, nestled in the thick of one the capital's busiest ghettos. Nash or one of the other guards would accompany her, and they often arrived after dark, incognito.
It was tiring, trying to be somebody else, and she ached to be herself most days. She also ached for the early days on Earth, The days when she and Bellamy and the rest of the 100 were together, as a team.
She searched the horizon for any sign of light from The Homestead, and then chastised herself for being so ridiculous. It was two days travel away with mountains and rivers and forests between them – how could she possibly see anything?
Closing her eyes she tried to picture the place instead.
The Homestead main hall was brimming with warm bodies and rich conversation.
Laid out on the long table was an array of delightful looking dishes concocted from the amazing variety of summer produce they had harvested for the festival. Clarke had never seen so much colour and texture on one table before.
She wished she could paint it.
A huge boar hung on a spit over the open fireplace and the lush scent of it, filled Clarke with a hunger she hadn't experienced in a long time.
Everything about this place was the complete opposite of Polis. Where the capital was cold and harsh, the homestead was warm and inviting. In the city she was surrounded by strangers who knew her only for the things she'd done and the title that came with it.
Here she was with family – the people who'd shared her story so far, seen her for whom she truly was and still accepted her, even after she had abandoned them on more than one occasion.
Her eyes roamed over all the familiar faces - taking in their relaxed features and jovial expressions, until they finally rested on that one face that always felt like home to her.
The last time she had seen him was a very different situation.
Bellamy had come to the capital with the market detail, some four weeks earlier. She hadn't even known he was in Polis until Nash interrupted a meeting between her and Olaf, ambassador of the Lake District, and escorted him into the room.
It had been unexpected and awkward – she'd had no time to prepare herself for the sudden mix of "Clarke's life" with the "The Commander's life." Bellamy being there felt out of place and he seemed on edge, which made her uneasy too. The resulting encounter was abrupt and unnatural.
After he left she felt almost grateful, and then she was gripped with guilt.
Now she watched him and smiled knowingly as his eyes roamed the room just as hers had seconds ago, surveying his people like a shepherd making sure his sheep were safe.
When he caught her gaze and held it, something ignited inside her and she moved slowly through the crowd towards him.
"Something about you is different," she told him. But it wasn't that his hair was longer, or his freckles darker and more widespread. It wasn't something measurable, something concrete. It was more in the way that he was, the way that he held himself, the way that he spoke.
"You too," he replied.
She sighed, readying herself for another line about her outfit. But he surprised her.
"This place suits you," he said with soft eyes. "You should visit more often."
Once upon a time she would have guessed straight away that he was having a dig at her, but now she wasn't so sure. His voice was filled with an earnest insistency.
And all of a sudden she knew what it was that was different about him.
Away from the immediate threat of war and death, the heavy expectations of others, the need to survive and the desire to protect - Bellamy Blake had found faith in himself.
Faith, understanding and acceptance.
Clarke was suddenly struck with an overwhelming curiosity and her thoughts became consumed by an alluring longing to get closer to him.
Closer to his truth.
Closer to his strength.
Closer to his core.
Closer and closer until they were so close that their connection was beyond control.
She clutched his wrist in her hands, almost dropping it when she felt his blood pump beneath the soft skin of her thumb.
"Come with me," she whispered and led him through the crowd, outside.
In the shadow of the hall, she couldn't see the intensity in his eyes and that was fine. She may have lost her way, if those eyes were alive with desire.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't see you in Polis, when you came… with the market detail."
She was rushing.
"I'm sorry I showed up," his voice came from somewhere deep down inside him; buried beneath the barriers they had built to protect them, and everyone else. "I can't be me in that place."
"I know," she nodded, as a swell of sadness shifted over her.
It was impossible.
She was the commander. He had found himself here.
They existed on different earths.
Everything they'd ever wanted was finally falling into place around them, but they were falling apart.