Archive of Our Own

Her horse’s hooves pounded across the forest floor, sending a flock of birds flying over the trees in a flurry of fear. She ducked a branch as Erebus rounded a corner on the path, panting hard. An arrow flew past her head, and she jerked the reins to the left, avoiding the ones that lodged themselves in the trees around them.

“They have to run out of arrows eventually,” Clarke muttered, urging Erebus to run faster.

The branches whipped at her cheeks, and the wind brought tears to her eyes. Another arrow was fired, and it grazed her arm as it flew by. She cried out, not paying attention to the road ahead of her. As she focused on the blood running down her arm, Erebus was skidding to a halt to avoid the tree that had fallen across the road.

The horse stopped, but Clarke didn’t. She flew over the barrier and into the trunk of a tree.

He She lifted her head, cursing, only for her eyes to cross and to be slumped against the ground once more.

***

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“You can clearly tell  she’s breathing, Murphy. Shut up.”

“Where did she come from?”

“Pretty rings like that? Where do you think?”

“What if she doesn’t wake up? What was the point of saving her?”

“Pay attention. Look at her horse, it has the royal crest. If she doesn’t wake up, we can try and sell—“

“Touch my horse, and you’ll wish you hadn’t saved me.”

Clarke hopped off the table she’d been laid on, hiding a wince as she hit the floor. There was a bandage wrapped around her arm, meaning she probably wasn’t in much danger from these particular people if they’d taken time to wrap her wound. The fireplace was roaring next to her, making the cabin around her glow warmly.

Clarke surveyed the group around her; three men, two women, all holding one weapon or another. She felt for the knife she kept in her waistband, and came up empty.

She glowered. “Thanks for saving me and everything, but I’m fine now. So if you wouldn’t mind giving me back my things, I’ll be on my way.”

The girl with the high ponytail and tan skin cocked her hip. “You can barely stand, let alone ride a horse. You’d be killing yourself if you went back out.”

“I’d be killing myself if I stayed here.” Clarke countered.

“Let her go.” The tallest man, with dark curly hair and broad shoulders, didn’t look up from the dagger he was sharpening. “The guard will be picking her up anyway for stealing a royal horse.”

“Who said I stole it?”

He levelled his gaze at her, but spoke to the rest of the group. “Does she look like royalty to any of you?”

She crossed her arms, opening her mouth to fire back a retort when the woman with the face tattoo intervened. “Raven’s right. You can’t ride like this.” She stepped closer, arms open. Friendly. “We can’t make you stay, but you’ll only be hurting yourself if you leave.”

Clarke glanced at the group, calculating the risk she’d be taking if any of them realized who she was, and back at the woman standing in front of her. She plucked her misplaced knife from the girl’s breast pocket, and shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to suffer, won’t I.”

She brushed past them all, stalking towards the door and throwing it open. She turned back, her smile disingenuous. “If I notice that any other of my items have been taken, remember, I know where you live.”

She slammed the door shut, greeting Erebus with an apple she’d stolen off the cabin’s side table. “I told you they’d run out of arrows eventually, didn’t I?”

The steed bumped her grey muzzle against her wounded arm, and she rolled her eyes. “I have to give them something to  report back, or else winning would just be too easy.”

She swung her leg over the horse’s flank, ignoring the nausea it erupted in her stomach. She flicked the reins, and Erebus broke into a jog. “Come on. Let’s go have a beer.”

***

There were two things to avoid when you were a woman at a tavern: men, drunk or not, and being drunk yourself. Currently, Clarke had been decidedly not avoiding drunkenness, which inevitably brought on what she was trying  to ignore.

A man with an unfortunate lack of hair had been trying to convince her to come up to his room all night, and they were both growing tired of her saying no.

“Just for a little while. You look tired, come up and let me take care of you.”

She closed her eyes, tilting her face towards the ceiling, pleading silently for the heavens to open up and put her out of her misery.

“Listen, I still haven’t had enough to drink to make me find you attractive, so why don’t you go on up, and I’ll follow you if that ever happens.”

He grabbed her wounded arm in anger, and she ground her teeth together against the pain. He moved in close to her face, “You listen here—“

In a flash, she slid her dagger from her sleeve and had pressed it against his throat. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. An arrow was shot through that arm today, so if you don’t let go of me, I’ll slash my blade through your throat.”

The man gulped, and released his grip on her arm. She only pressed against his skin harder. “Remember,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “My threat stands for any girl that you bother at this bar, got it?”

He nodded, tripping over himself to get away. Clarke sipped at her beer, satisfied. She enjoyed a few moments to herself, before another man planted himself on her other side. She had made the decision to ignore him, before he spoke.

“That arrow barely grazed your arm, let alone went through it.”

She was startled to see the man from the cabin sitting there, dark hair wind blown and disheveled. She quickly hid her shock, and shrugged. “He didn’t need to know that.”

He ordered a beer, and she narrowed her gaze. “How did you find me?”

He knocked back his drink, and turned towards her. “Your stolen goods basically glow in the dark. It wasn’t very hard to follow you.”

She turned away, humming. “I guess Erebus and I will have to go on a tour through the swamp. Dirty her up.”

“Erebus?”

Clarke bit her tongue. “Ah, yeah. It was on her stall door.”

“You actually got into the stables? How?”

Well, Detective, why don’t I just give you my heist book and we can exchange notes?  She coughed. “I pretended to work there.”

He hummed, and a few moments passed in silence. Finally, he shook his head, and stood. “Come on. Emori won’t let me back in the cabin if you’re not with me.”

“Sounds like a you issue.”

“I could just steal your horse. Then you’d be forced to come looking for it.”

Her huff of laughter was humourless. “I dare you to try. She doesn’t go to just anyone.”

“She went with you, didn’t she?”

She grit her teeth, realizing he wasn’t giving her a choice. “Why do you care whether I live or die?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, I don’t. But I do care about having a bed to sleep in tonight, so let’s go.”

“And if I refuse?”

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I carried someone out of a bar.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Please. Don’t make me laugh.”

Another shrug, and suddenly he was moving to throw her over his shoulder.

“Fine, fine!” She swatted away his hands. “Let me finish my drink.”

She made to swallow the last gulp, but at the last moment, sloshed the remaining liquid into his face, and ran for the door. She had barely gotten her foot into the stirrup, when her head erupted into colours, and she slid to the ground in a heap.

***

She opened her eyes, blinking, to find the same annoying man smirking at her. She groaned, and rolled away, putting a hand to her forehead. She groaned more once she saw where she was.

Right back at the damn cabin; exactly where she had been trying to avoid.

“Since your running away and immediately collapsing thing has become an unfortunate habit, Raven decided we should take turns babysitting.” He sat back in his chair, folding his arms above his head, the complete image of unbothered. “I’m Bellamy, by the way. Since it’s obvious you’re going to be staying a while.”

She struggled to sit up, gritting her teeth. “Says who?”

He raised his eyebrows, and looked down to her wrist. She followed his gaze, and was shocked to see a restraint tied there.

“You’re holding me captive ?”

The girl with the face tattoo, Emori, entered the room. She winced at her words, obviously not a fan of holding hostages. “It was Murphy’s idea. You’re not going to get any better if you keep pushing yourself like that, and you’re clearly not one to accept help willingly.”

She flopped back against the couch, trying to cross her arms in a huff, but the band around her wrist wouldn’t allow it. She let out a growl of frustration, and glared in Bellamy’s direction.

He leaned forward. “Well, you know our names, don’t you think it’s fair that we know yours?”

She held his stare, debating on whether to tell the truth or not. Clenching her jaw, she ground out what her father always called her. “Clarke. It’s a pleasure.”

Bellamy tilted his head, but his face was emotionless. “Like the princess.”

It wasn’t a question, and she hid her fear with a smirk. “I guess I’m royalty after all.”

Their gaze still hadn’t broken when the man with the scrawny build and watery eyes stepped into the room. “She’s awake. Finally.”

Bellamy looked away from Clarke, shaking his head and standing. “Murphy, it’s your turn to watch. Where’s Miller?”

“How should I know?”

Bellamy levelled his gaze. “Because you were supposed to be hunting with him.”

Murphy shrugged, and threw himself into an armchair, immediately beginning to pick at his teeth with a knife. Clarke wrinkled her nose, rolling into the couch, away from the blatant display of nasty that was happening in the corner.

Bellamy stomped around the cabin for a few more minutes, listening to Murphy complain, before opening the door to head out. “Murphy, just make sure she doesn’t starve. And goddamnit, get her a blanket? She's quivering .”

Clarke lifted a hand—to fact check the previous statement, of course—and realized there was a slight tremor. She narrowed her eyes at the door; Bellamy was observant, and clearly the smartest in the group. There were many few people who knew the true name of the princess, and unfortunately, he was one of them. She closed her eyes, inhaling.

Escaping wasn’t going to be easy.

***

The captors were friendly, at the very least. They kept her well fed and watered, attempted to keep her involved, and slowly, she begrudgingly began to know them.

Miller had short, buzzed hair, and a short temper to match. He often found himself in spats with Murphy or Raven about nothing of substance, and it always seemed that no true feelings were ever wounded, regardless of the vicious insults that were hurled one way or the other. (“You are a disgusting misuse of a penis.” “And you are a disgusting betrayal of a good set of breasts.” “Are you saying I have good breasts, Murphy?”)

Murphy was scrawny with hair that parted down the middle, but he didn’t let his physical weakness stop him. He easily held his own when they sparred in the back garden, despite the bloody nose he often left with. However, he also made up for his lack of strength by acting like a total ass, usually towards Clarke.

Raven and Emori made up for his taunts, though. Raven experimented with new tools and inventions, and was always eager to explain her creations to Clarke when she didn’t understand their use. Emori made delicious soups and breads, and told the funniest stories with the best flare.

The only one she couldn’t figure out was Bellamy—it was like he switched his personalities each day, never giving her a chance to warm up to one or another. He could be sweet; loosening her restraints and checking her bandage when she was feeling extremely irritable, reassuring her that she wouldn’t be here for much longer. But there were other times when he was quick to be harsh, shutting her down the few times she decided to respond to a joke or laughing at her attempts to make conversation. (The only thing she was set on was the fact that he was the leader of the group, the rest of the cabin waited on him hand and foot, like he was the royal one.) She couldn’t decide who was really him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

***

Clarke’s shoe clad feet clicked on the marble floor as she skipped through the empty hallway. She plucked a rose from its vase as she twirled by, inhaling its scent. She slowed to a normal pace as she broke it at the stem, and placed the bloom behind her ear.

She had finished her classes for the day, and was on her way to see her mother. She had painted a picture of her, and wanted to give it to her immediately. She stopped by the kitchen, hoping that they’d know where Abby was, and that they’d give her something sweet before dinner.

Dorris, the head chef, snuck her a cake. “She’s in her room. But you better finish this before you get there.”

Clarke nodded, her mouth already filled with the chocolate goodness. She ran out of the kitchen, shoving the sweet down as she dove around the corner.

“Woah! Slow down, Clarke.” Laughed a maid, bending to pick up the linens Clarke had accidentally knocked from her grip.

“I’m sorry, Grace! Are you okay?”

The maid nodded, patting Clarke on the head. “Of course, darling, it’s alright.” She rested the basket on her hip, smiling softly. “Now run along, you’re clearly on an important mission.”

Clarke giggled, and did as she was told. Her mother’s chamber was just a hallway over, and she practically sprinted the rest of the way. The door was open a crack, but Clarke still paused in order to knock and be properly let inside.

Before she could, however, she heard whimpering from the other side. “No, no, he can’t be. That wasn’t the plan! He can’t be gone .”

It was her mother. Clarke pushed open the door tentatively, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Abby raised her head, her eyes meeting Clarke’s, and broke into more sobs.

“Mother? What’s happened?”

Abby was beside herself, still wailing, even in her daughter’s presence. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” She cried out. “I’m so, so sorry. Your father, he’s—he’s—“

Clarke jolted awake, gasping. It took her a moment to remember her surroundings, and she quickly quieted her breathing. She ran a hand through her hair, which was in desperate need of a comb, and tried to calm herself down.

“Hey,”

The word sent her into a panic all over again.

“Jesus,” she huffed, a hand pressed to her chest to keep her rapidly beating heart in its place.

“Not quite.” Bellamy said, dropping a bag of supplies onto the table. He dusted off his hands, and then placed them on his hips. “You ready?”

“For what?” She grumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets up to her chin. She had no plans of going anywhere.

A pillow hit the side of her head. “Hey!” She protested, holding the enemy pillow as if it were a spear above her head.

Bellamy did not appear to be threatened. “You’re coming on the hunt today, remember? Your muscles are going to deteriorate if you lay here any longer.”

She sat up, making a face, despite the fact that he perhaps had a point. She had been held captive for about a week now, and regardless of her many escape attempts, she was still tethered to their couch.

“What if I run away?” She argued, which was stupid, because it meant giving away exactly what she planned to do.

He held up a rope, pulling it taunt. “Your horse will be tied to my horse. Wherever you go, I go.”

“That could easily be cut.” You could easily shut up.

“Not when your hands are tied together.”

“You expect me to ride a horse with my hands tied  together?”

“I have immense faith in your abilities.”

“I’ve fallen off twice in your presence, with both events ending in unconsciousness.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Unforeseen circumstances.”

She splayed her arms. “ You are —“ She snapped her mouth shut, crossing her arms and glaring. Finally, she sighed. “What are we hunting for?”

He threw her a net, which just so happened to tangle in her limbs embarrassingly. “Whatever we can find. Let’s go, princess.”

He pulled at the ropes tied to her wrists, forcing her to follow him.

She bared her teeth at the back of his head. “Call me by my proper name, or don’t bother talking to me at all.”

Bellamy’s laugh was mocking. “Fine. I won’t talk to you at all, then.”

She growled, feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Why wouldn’t he let her rot on his couch? Why wouldn’t he let her go? What was in it for him and the rest of the group? Did he expect her to be grateful?

She guffawed quietly. He probably expects me to suck his—

“Erebus.” Bellamy said, tugging her to a stop. “She fell sick after not being worked properly for a few days, but I managed to nurse her back to health. Interesting name, by the way. I wonder if the royals know it comes from the primordial deities in Greek mythology, born out of the primeval void; chaos.”

Yes, as a matter of fact, they do.  Erebus whinnied at the sight of them, but instead of greeting Clarke, she eagerly greeted Bellamy with a nudge of the nose.

She felt jealousy flare in her stomach. “Traitor.”

Bellamy rubbed the mare’s neck, feeding her an apple before moving to saddle her. Erebus had never been so friendly with a stranger before. Clarke would have crossed her arms and pouted, if her hands hadn’t been tied in a double knot. Bellamy finished the tack, and gestured for Clarke to come closer.

Clarke didn’t move a singular inch. Bellamy raised his eyebrows as if it were a challenge. “I’ve threatened to physically move you before, it won’t be hard to do again.”

Clarke ground her teeth, and faking a smile, stepped in between him and the horse. He returned the nicety, and spun her so she was facing away from him. She felt him bend at the waist, and wrap his arms around her legs.

She suppressed the gasp that threatened to break from her throat. Heat spread throughout her body, and Bellamy lifted her off the ground with barely any effort. She was disgusted by the fact that she didn’t want him to let go.

“There,” he said, after having deposited her on top of Erebus. “Was that so bad?”

She wasn’t sure whether the true answer was yes or no, and so she simply stared straight ahead, clamping her lips together to keep the truth from slipping out.

***

After three hours, with nothing rustling the trees except their own horse’s, and sweat dripping down the back of her neck, Clarke was annoyed.

“Even if there is something out here for us to eat—which so far, seems unlikely—how am I supposed to help you catch it?”

Bellamy had been whistling ahead of her for the duration of their trip, completely unbeknownst of the anger building in her stomach. “I never planned for you to help me catch it.”

“ What? ” The anger had suddenly spiked. “Then what am I doing here?”

“Moral support.”

She would have screamed, if she wasn’t afraid to scare away their dinner. “You know what? You are unbelievable— unbelievable . I haven’t fainted all week —“

“Because you’ve been tied to my couch.”

“—but you’re still holding me hostage! What’s in it for you? Why do you care so much? Why—“

“Shh. Shut up.” He held up a finger.

“No, no. Don’t you dare —“

“ Clarke .” He whipped around in his saddle, his eyes a warning, and she snapped her mouth shut.

For a heart stopping moment, it felt as if the entire forest stood still, even the birds were frozen in the sky—and then she saw it. A doe, stepping daintily across the path, hadn’t seen them standing there. She sniffed at the ground, looking this way and that, and Clarke’s breath was stuck in her throat at the beauty standing before her.

Slowly, Bellamy raised his bow and arrow, pulling it back until it rested near his ear. The deer, finally, had seen them, but it was too late. Bellamy released the arrow, and it lodged itself into the creature’s heart.

As it’s body hit the forest floor, air was breathed back into the trees, and life continued on.

Bellamy jumped from his horse, striding to the deer who’s chest was still rising and falling, albeit with difficulty. He sunk to his knees, and from what Clarke could tell, appeared to be trying to comfort the animal. A light melody reached her ears, and she realized Bellamy was humming. As gracelessly as a fawn, she slid from Erebus’ back, stepping carefully towards him.

She only saw him slide his hand over the doe’s eyes, before the moment had passed, and he had resumed the character of Absolute Dick.

“Since you’re down, you can hand me the knife from my saddlebag.”

Clarke mocked him with faces behind his back, and strode to Adonis. (Yes, she was aware of the similarities of their naming habits.) She stroked the horse’s belly, and opened the saddlebag.

She paused, there were at least ten knives, all tucked within their respective pockets—except one. She bit her lip; staring at the loose dagger riding in the bottom of the bag. She glanced back at Bellamy, before reaching in and sliding the blade up her sleeve.

“Anytime, princess. Anytime.” Bellamy called.

Clarke quickly grabbed another knife from its sleeve, “Got it. Relax.”

She jogged over, and watched Bellamy gently skin the animal, all while keeping the secret weapon tucked into her waistband.

***

There was no reason for her to have not escaped in the woods, except if she tried to convince herself that she didn’t want to miss dinner—which, really, she didn’t—but there was unfortunately more to it than that.

She wanted to see them all one more time, sit at their table and listen to them taunt each other; what more could she say? She had grown attached to the misfits, and that fact made her stomach roll with anxiety. She couldn’t afford to be attached, she couldn’t afford for them to be attached—there was too much at stake. If they figured out who she was, or worse, if her mother happened to figure out where she  was—

None of them would make it out alive.

And so she’d decided, she would cut her bonds loose tonight when everyone had gone to sleep, and she would vanish in the darkness.

“Hey,” Bellamy said softly. He was beside her on the way home, walking while Adonis carried the carcass of the deer. “You’ve been surprisingly quiet. Everything okay?”

She pursed her lips, and broke away from his gaze. Why does he have to choose now to act nice, when I’m planning on never seeing him a again in a few hours?

She inhaled deeply, still staring straight ahead. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you haven’t insulted me in at least half an hour—a groundbreaking record, by the way.”

Clenching her jaw, she fought to not stare into his soft gaze, the one he always wore when he was teasing her. “Don’t assume I’m being nice, I’m only thinking up more ways to hurt your ego.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Well then, please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

A few moments of silence passed, and she couldn’t stop herself from telling him—the nice him, the one that tenderly changed her bandages and touched a hand to her forehead softly when checking her temperature—something about herself, something to help him remember her when she had gone.

“I was actually thinking about my mother.” She admitted, clenching her fingers around the reins.

Bellamy was quiet, and she took that as a sign to continue. “We were close when I was younger, even though she was usually busy dealing with—“ she paused. “—business. I don’t know, it’s hard to think about how distant we are now.”

That’s an understatement .

Bellamy still hadn’t said anything, and she was beginning to burst with the need to fill the silence, before he sighed. “My mother wasn’t around very much, but I had a sister.”

“Had?”

“She’s not dead or anything, but I wouldn’t classify us as anything close to siblings anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, and scratched the back of his neck. “There’s too much bad blood between us, and I don’t think we’ll ever get back to how we used to be.”

She greedily filed the new information away within her brain, saving it for another day to pick apart and analyze.

She bit her lip, debating whether or not another question would bring out the wrong side of him, and ultimately deciding it was worth it. “What about your dad?”

This pulled a humourless laugh from him. “My dad; I haven’t seen him since before my sister was born, but I’ve had plenty of replacements since then. The current rotation? A royal pain  in the ass.” He paused, and she thought he had finished, before he coughed and continued. “My mother’s work—she’s considered to be more powerful with a husband, and so she’s remarried countless of times, despite the overwhelming number of failed attempts lined up behind her.”

She allowed the words to settle around them, before speaking once more. “Does that have something to do with what happened between you and your sister?”

He glanced up at her, before nodding solemnly. “She’s—yeah, let’s just say, her and our current father have a lot more in common than I would have expected.”

“Bellamy! Clarke! Finally, I’m starving.” Raven practically ran to meet them, but bypassed them both and greeted the dead doe instead. She gripped its face, cooing and singing to its empty eyes.

“Raven,” Bellamy frowned, slightly disgusted. “Please. Don’t traumatize the thing.”

She threw a look over her shoulder. “It’s dead.”

“Then don’t traumatize me.” Clarke quipped, sliding from the saddle and nearly breaking her ankle in the process.

Bellamy jerked forward and caught her before she hit the ground, causing a moment where their bodies were pressed against one another—Clarke wasn’t sure if she was distraught or delighted.

“Thanks.” She breathed, embarrassingly out of breath from Bellamy’s touch.

He let go of her as if she had caught on fire, and he was afraid the flames would catch him too.

“You’re welcome.” He said, his voice suddenly gruff and cold, a universe away from the person he was mere moments before.

***

At dinner, Clarke kept quiet, her guilt of leaving and her desire to do so battling each other within her mind.

“Did you hear about what the King ordered?” Miller said quietly to Bellamy.

They must have been talking about the neighbouring kingdom’s king, King Orpheus.

Clarke had heard horrible stories about the king to the west, so bone chilling that a shiver went down her spine whenever she heard the name. He had children soldiers, he made a spectacle of executions, he tortured prisoners in town squares, gouging out their eyes and ripping off their limbs. Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what he had decided to do next.

Bellamy instantly went rigid, gripping his glass so hard Clarke was afraid he’d shatter it.

He stared straight ahead as he said, “Who’s children has he decided to hunt now?”

Miller shook his head. “None.” Clarke realized the reality was worse than that. “He’s declared Octavia his Chief of War; as of this s’morning.”

Bellamy’s nostrils flared, which left Clarke wondering who this Octavia was, and what business she had making Bellamy look so afraid.

***

I may feel bad about leaving, I refuse to feel guilty for cutting up these fucking ropes , she thought as she threw the shredded pieces to the floor, spitting on them for good measure.

She looked down the hallway, trying to choke her longing down, but it rose like bile to the top of her throat, threatening to spill over and stain the carpet. She didn’t need to say goodbye, she shouldn’t have even felt the urge to do so—Bellamy would be furious when he realized she had escaped, if only because he didn’t think she was well enough to be on her own—and yet, the third door on the left called to her.

She tiptoed down the hallway, every instinct within her fighting against it, screaming at her to turn around and run in the opposite direction. But it was that stupid muscle in her chest that she listened to, no matter how many times it had led her to trouble in the past.

The door was ajar, and she took it as a sign to push it open the rest of the way. She stood in the doorway, silent, staring, probably looking more creepy than adoring to any onlookers.

He laid on his back, his chest bare but the covers mostly hiding his skin, and his head tossed to the side, an arm resting above it. She denied any urge to describe how he looked with frivolous words such as bewitching or lovely. (Regardless of how true the two words were to the situation.)

She moved to the side of the bed, heart pounding, suspecting any moment that he would wake and she would be done for. Not only for breaking free, but for being there, in his room, looking at him as if—as if—

As if she were like how Raven had been; starving.

She reached out, tentatively, and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Bellamy sighed in his sleep, settling deeper into the pillow.

She spared one last glance, and then she was gone.

***

She kept her face hid at she rode through the market, avoiding the eyes of those around her. It had been three days since she left the cabin, but she hadn’t made it very far. She couldn’t seem to venture any further than the outskirts of the village, and then she always found an excuse to wander back in.

The market was her reason today; she needed supplies, she needed to support the vendors, all lies, and she knew it.

The streets were busy today, as they usually were, but something was different. The consumers skirted around booths, almost seeming paranoid with the amount of times they looked around before they crossed the path. The atmosphere felt heavy—weighted, with something that Clarke was familiar with; fear.

It felt dangerous to dismount from Erebus, and so she stayed glued to the saddle, waiting for what everyone else seemed to be preparing for. Her stomach sank at the sound of them.

She didn’t need to turn around to know it was the royal guard thundering down the street, coming straight for her. It was instinct that made her flick the reins, and race out of the village.

How had they found her? Would they really put these innocent people in danger in order to capture her? Would she be able to let them?

“Let go of  me.”

The voice rang through her entire body, deep and gravelly and unmistakably Bellamy’s.

Closing her eyes, she pulled on the reins, and made Erebus spin to face the danger. She opened her eyes, and charged back inside the chaos.

She swiped a large sword from a booth as they flew by it, nodding her thanks to the owner. They had Bellamy and the rest of the group in the middle of the square, hands tied behind their back.

(She tried not to gain pleasure from the sight of the tables turning.)

“I told you, I don’t know where  she went. We have nothing to do with her crimes.” Clarke could just make out the words as Bellamy argued to the stone faced guard, who Clarke knew wouldn’t listen to reason.

Slowly, she moved into a crouched position as Erebus galloped down the path. As they grew closer, Clarke balanced on top of the saddle, praying to whoever was listening to help her manage this impossible feat.

In near slow motion, she sprang from the saddle, launching herself at the nearest guard, and driving her sword through his heart.

Chaos erupted throughout the square; children and mothers ran screaming, men did their best to help the guards in surrounding Clarke, and the group on their knees began to cheer.

“ Yes , Clarke!” Screamed Emori, and Clarke spared her a smile before catching the edge of a guard’s sword with her own.

She counted ten men, all surrounding her, each with patronizing smiles glued to their mugs. Her nostrils flared, and she dove at the closest one, engaging in a battle that she wasn’t sure she would win.

He pushed against her blade, swiping at her stomach and her head, and she managed to dodge each blow. With both hands gripping the hilt, she swung down, and knocked the sword from his hand. She lifted her foot, and sent its power into his chest, knocking him backwards into two other guards.

Another charged at her from behind, and she barely had turned before his blade came crashing down. She caught it with her own, pushing him back, and plunged her sword into his stomach. She pulled her weapon free, and knocked her elbow into the nose of another guard. He stumbled backwards, and she sliced open his throat with a single swipe.

Someone kicked the back of her leg, and she lost her balance for a moment, but rolled onto her back to avoid his blows. She tried to kick up at him, screaming with the effort of keeping his sword from cutting into her face. Finally, her foot found purchase in his crotch, and he doubled over in pain. She sprang to her feet, and grabbed his head, cracking it down across her knee.

Breathing heavily, she turned to look at the captured group, who were still on their knees amongst the bodies.

She wiped the blood from her nose as two guards were beginning to stir, and she started towards Bellamy. Slicing open his bonds, she began to give him instructions. “Did they pick you up at the cabin?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then it’s no longer safe there; hide in the woods in the surrounding area, and I’ll find you.”

“Why?”

She paused her vigorous knot sawing to look at him. “Why what?”

“You left. Why come back and help us?”

She swallowed, trying not to read too deep into the betrayal written in his eyes, then shrugged. “Wherever you go, I go, remember?”

She finished freeing the lot, relaying their instructions, before grabbing a patiently waiting Erebus from the sidelines. Just before she had swung her leg up onto her, Bellamy called out once more.

“All this fuss, over a stolen horse?”

Smiling to herself while shaking her head, she kept her face turned into the horse’s neck. “It’s not about the horse—“ She stuck her foot in the stirrup and mounted. “—it’s about the owner.”

Riding around in a circle, she easily took out the remaining guards with a few sword swipes, and they fell nicely into a collective pile. She saluted to the group, who were still picking their jaws up off the floor, and turned to ride off.

Over her shoulder, she explained, “Erebus belonged to the princess.”

***

She waited until dark to find the cabin again, and was terribly disappointed in herself that she knew exactly where to go.

They had built a fire, and she immediately dumped her carrier of water on top of it.

A chorus of “Hey!” and “What are you doing?!” greeted her ears, and she looked at them with a deadpan expression.

“What do you think you’re doing in the woods? Playing a fun game of hide and seek?” She shook her head, and began kicking dirt over the curling smoke.

“We were cold —“ Murphy began.

“Okay well,  would you rather be cold? Or dead?” She put her hands on her hips. “They captured you in hopes you would give me up, but since you didn’t, the Royal Guard has targets on all of your backs. They take that very seriously, and they won’t hesitate to kill any one of you.”

“Because of you. They want you .” Raven piped up, her glare angry but non-threatening.

Clarke locked onto her gaze and held it. “Exactly. They’ve wanted me for months, so I think I might know what I’m talking about.” Raven looked away to sulk, and Clarke continued. “They won’t want you if they get to me first, but since that’s unlikely to happen—“

Bellamy stood, dusting his hands off. “We should listen to Clarke.” She felt a flare of pride go off in her chest, before he pointedly looked her way. “She’s been a wanted criminal for a while now.”

The flare shrivelled up and died, and her eyes narrowed into a glare. “My point is —I protected you today, and I’ll continue do so as long as they’re after you.”

“And what about when they’re not?” Emori said, her voice cold. “Are you planning on running away again?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Can we be over that now? You tied me up, I ran away, you saved my life, I saved yours—we’re even now.”

Judging from their expressions, they weren’t entirely convinced. Who knew they had grown so attached? “ Fine. If you don’t want my help, I’m not going to force it on you. Maybe it’ll teach you something.”

She turned to go, when at the last moment, a voice called out. “Wait, Clarke! Please don’t leave!”

She smiled, and faced Miller, who was receiving many looks of disdain. “Come on, we need her . “We are in way over our heads.”

Clarke smiled as she saw them all silently agree. “Well,” She hoisted her pack over her shoulder. “Let’s get going then.”

“Wait.” Bellamy said.

“For what?”

His look was pointed and irritated. “We’re waiting for someone.”

“For who ?” In all her time spent with them, there had never been more than five.

“I said wait—“

“We need to move now, they’re going to assume we’ll come back here to hide—“

“Well, then they’ll find us.”

“What don’t you understand about a slow and painful death —“ An arrow whizzed past her head, and her life flashed before her eyes.

“Go, go, go!” Emori shouted, already jumping over bushes with very little precision.

“I told you we didn’t have time to waste.” Clarke unsheathed her sword, holding it out in defence. She’d hoped she’d have more time to recover before the next battle, but alas, she couldn’t have everything.

“Relax, losers, it’s me.”

A tall looking woman with wavy brown hair somehow sauntered —whilst atop a brown gelding—through the trees. She slung her bow across her back, and hopped down from the steed, only to waltz directly into Bellamy’s arms.

“Hey, baby.” She said, after exchanging a nauseating amount of saliva. (If Clarke was being honest with herself, which she so often wasn’t, any amount of saliva would have made her sick to her stomach.)

Everyone anxiously greeted the newcomer, apparently having completely forgotten about the army of assassins coming to obliterate them.

“Hello? Does anyone remember  the reason we’re hiding in the woods? Or is it just me who fears eminent death?”

The woman turned, as if just noticing Clarke was standing there, and cocked her head. “Who’s this and what is she rambling on about?”

“The Royal Guard is after us, Echo.” Raven whimpered, as if the guard was a monster hiding under the bed.

“The Royal Guard? Why?”

They all swivelled to stare at Clarke.

She crossed her arms. “You. Captured. Me. You all brought this upon yourselves.”

Echo ignored her, which caused Clarke’s fists to clench at her side. “Is the cabin compromised?” The group nodded like lost puppies. Echo inhaled, as if the world was resting on her shoulders. “It’s fine. Come on, I have a secure location we can stay.”

Echo led the group through the trees, a fuming Clarke following behind.

Her face was mocking. “‘I have a secure spot we can stay.’ Ma-eh . I’ve been on the run for months; I have secure spots. My spots are so secure, even I don’t  know where they are—“

“Are you coming, Clarke?”

“Coming! Just killing a very large, very venomous bug!” She trudged forwards begrudgingly, still reassuring herself. “Just like I killed ten men today. By myself . ‘Secure spots’, I’ll secure your face with my foot.”

***

It was a cave. Echo’s secure spot was a cave .

“Mmh. Cozy.” Clarke commented, throwing herself onto the floor to begin whittling her anger away with a knife and a stick.

“It’ll do for now.” Bellamy said, followed by the distinct smack of lips on lips.

Clarke rolled her eyes and then her body into the wall of rock, away from any displays of affection.

“Can we light a fire now?” Murphy whined, while Emori petted his hand.

“You mean a beacon for the guards to be led straight to us?” Clarke asked. “Sure. Go ahead; see what happens.”

Echo replied to Murphy in a tone that suggested he was a literal child who was in desperate need of consolation. “I have a few blankets in my saddle bag, John, don’t worry.” She then addressed the rest of the group, and Clarke was one petty level away from plugging her ears. “We have a few supplies, but we’ll need to send out scavengers and hunters when we run out.”

“I’m sorry, really, look, I know I’m new here—“ Clarke sat up on her elbows, her look incredulous. “—but what authority do you have? I mean they obviously all like you, for some reason, but what incentive do I have to listen to you?”

Echo pursed her lips, but it was Raven that answered for her. “Echo’s a spy. She knows how to survive.”

“A spy? Really.” Clarke’s eyebrows were raised. “Hopefully for our kingdom?”

“An independent spy.” It was Bellamy who spoke next, and Clarke suddenly felt as if she was being chastised. “She’s hired by anonymous buyers sometimes, but mostly she does her own investigating.”

That must pay well—hiring yourself . “How newfangled.” Clarke rolled back against her wall to wallow, aggressively chipping away at her stick.

She had it whittled down to a small pile of wood chips in a matter of minutes.

***

She learned many things about Echo that night; she was bossy, thought she knew everything, and snooty. She did not enjoy when Clarke challenged her instructions, and downright loathed when Clarke spoke to Bellamy. (This was mostly when Clarke attempted making snide comments about Echo while she was standing right there. Her anger was only slightly understandable.)

Fortunately, Clarke also learned that Echo wasn’t very observant, seen as she sent Bellamy and Clarke on a hunt together; she clearly must not have known that was their designated bonding time.

“Clarke. I need you to lay off.” Bellamy said sternly, barely moments after they had left the cave.

Clarke didn’t pretend to not know what he meant. “What? Your girlfriend can’t defend herself?”

“My girlfriend shouldn’t have to.” He pulled on his own reins and then Clarke’s, forcing both horses to a stop. She was disgusted by the tingle running through her fingers at his slightest touch. “Echo has been nothing but helpful to you—to all of us. So stop with the comments and remarks, because they’re getting old.”

Her nostrils flared; this was how he talked to Murphy when he was getting out of hand. Had it come to that? She was almost flattered, Murphy was at his funniest when he was getting out of hand. She held Bellamy’s gaze for a moment longer, before yanking her reins from his grip. “Don’t—touch—my horse.”

She flicked the reins, riding off through the trees, leaving Bellamy in her dust.

***

She did as Bellamy requested, and stopped making jokes at Echo’s expense. In fact, she took it a step further, and stopped speaking all together. She shook her head, shrugged or nodded at any questions she was asked, and listened when the others were telling her something—but she did not contribute.

Good luck to them all when the guard comes, and the only one to spot them is the one with her mouth clamped shut.

Nearly two weeks had passed, and they were still living in the damn cave, but they had surprisingly enough food and other supplies to make it bearable, there had been no sign of the guard, and overall—morale was high. Due to that diminishing amount of fear, and the fact that the cave was beginning to feel extremely cramped; Emori suggested that they all visit the lake twenty degrees north, and relax for the day.

Clarke thought it was a horrible idea, and that they’d only get themselves killed by leaving, but she didn’t open her mouth. If they wanted to take the risk, their deaths weren’t on her.

She sat by the edge of the water for a long time, still fully clothed, dagger at the ready—watching everyone have fun without her. Her heart sank as Echo and Bellamy splashed each other playfully, the perfect image of a perfect couple.

Her eyes began to burn, and she blinked quickly, looking away towards the horse’s playing in the water.

She had just decided that she should leave, when someone called her name. “Clarke!” It was Raven, and she was gesturing wildly. “Come on! Get in the water!”

Clarke shook her head. “No, I’m okay!” She huffed when she realized it was the first words out of her mouth in weeks.

Suddenly, a wave of water crashed over her, soaking her through to the bone. She jumped to her feet, dripping wet, and wiping her sopping hair out of her eyes. “What the hell did you do that for?!”

Raven shrugged, laughing. “I guess you’ll just have to take them off and let them dry.”

Clarke scowled, while everyone else in the water chuckled light heartedly. “You’re dead, Reyes.”

“Oh yeah?” She held her hands up. “Come and get me, Griffin.”

Clarke inhaled, and slowly began peeling off her clothing. Her jacket dropped to the floor in a wet heap, and her boots followed. She then stripped off her pants, and finally, her shirt. She was left in nothing but her undergarments, and she fought the blush rising up her neck.

(She refused to look in Bellamy’s direction. But she couldn’t help but use her peripheral to notice that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.)

She dove into the water, not coming up for air until she saw Raven’s tan legs ahead of her. She erupted from the waves and pushed Raven’s head under, laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

Raven came up laughing too, and they continued to splash each other and the others until they were all panting with excursion.

After the fight was finished, and Clarke had clearly won, she sighed, and let the water cradle her while she floated on her back.

A few moments passed, and she felt a gentle poke in her shoulder.  She opened her eyes to see Raven smiling at her. “See? I knew you could have fun.”

Clarke smiled back, letting her body relax against the gentle waves, and allowing herself to believe that everything would be okay.

Later, as they were sunning themselves on the large rocks beside the lake, she found her eyes glued to a certain tanned torso.

He was talking to Miller, gesturing wildly as he told a magnetic story about capturing a boar. He was smiling and laughing, making jokes and jabbing Miller in the gut every so often when he was interrupted.

Clarke was fighting to keep the smile off her face, even as she cocked her head at the language Bellamy was using; it was the neighbouring kingdom’s royal tongue.

“He tore the place apart when he found out you were gone, you know.” Raven said in her ear, following her line of sight.

“What?”

“Yeah. There’s three new holes in the wall, and they’re not from knife throwing contests.”

“What do you mean? Why would he do that?”

“Why do you think?”

Clarke couldn’t let herself entertain the possibility of what Raven was hinting at, especially when she let her gaze wander over to Echo.

Raven shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Echo—but she’s not right for him.”

“And I am?” Clarke almost laughed at the thought.

“Echo doesn’t feel.” Raven explained. “She doesn’t let herself, and so she tries to make Bellamy do the same. You—you have a short temper, you’re passionate—you’re just like him.”

She couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. “I am nothing like Bellamy.”

Raven shrugged. “Think what you want, but he wouldn’t put up with someone for as long as he has with you if he didn’t think they were worth it—especially when they’ve managed to put him through as much trouble as you have.”

Raven laid back down on the rock, clearly finished with the conversation, and Clarke glanced back over at Bellamy. A sly, stupid little sentence crept inside her brain.

What if?

***

They started the trek back to the cabin when they were all sun soaked and sleepy, arriving just before dinner time, and Miller began preparing some dried meat and berries for them to eat.

Clarke could admit it; she’d had a good day. The water had been beautiful and clear enough to see the bottom, and there was enough coverage from the trees for her to think that spotting them would have been difficult.

“Alright, everyone gather, I think it’s finally time to light a fire.” Miller stated, rubbing a couple of sticks together. Clarke was still nervous, the thought of being caught and being the cause of any one of their deaths—she wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

“So, Clarke,” Echo started, chewing daintily on a piece of moose. “Where are you from?”

Clarke nearly choked. She swallowed her mouthful, and wiped at her mouth. What was she supposed to say? She supposed the best way to get out of this was to stray only slightly from the truth. “I lived in the castle, for a while.”

“Really?” Echo seemed incredulous. “What did you do there?”

“I, um, I helped out in the stables. I kept a low profile.” Is this an interrogation or something?

“And what about your parents?” Echo smiled sweetly. “How do they feel about your criminal activites?”

Anger flared in Clarke’s stomach, and she gripped her thigh under the table to keep from losing control. “My father died when I was seven, so I’m really not sure what he thinks. What about yours? Do they approve of your spying on our kingdom?”

Echo opened her mouth to retort, but Bellamy silenced her with a touch to her arm. “Clarke? Can I speak with you? Outside?”

This was ridiculous! “I’m getting  in trouble but she’s not? If you’re gonna act like our father at least don’t play such obvious favourites —“

“Clarke. Now .” Bellamy’s voice was dangerously low, and Clarke all but sprang to her feet.

“Fine, fine.” She muttered. “You could have just asked.”

He waited for her by the mouth of the cave, jaw fluttering, and just about stomped outside as soon as she was close enough to follow.

“Listen,” Clarke started. “She purposely got under my skin, I’ll apologize but only if  she does it first because—“

“You’re the princess.”

The words rang in her ears, Clarke’s world suddenly tilting on its side. Her mouth was dry, and her muscles were humming with the desire, the need to  turn and run in the opposite direction.

“How did you figure it out?” Her voice was quiet, giving away her fear too easily, but she didn’t back down from his gaze.

Bellamy’s laugh was humourless. “Stealing the princess’s horse, your sword training, the constant running— your name is Clarke . I can’t believe you used your real name.” He shook his head, glancing up to the sky. “I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. Your hair was longer in the picture I saw, and you were clean , but I should have seen it.”

Clarke’s eyes snapped open, furrowing her brow. “What picture?”

His eyes widened, and she could sense he was suddenly trying to backtrack. “The—the—picture, that I saw, on the poster. The wanted poster.”

She stepped closer, forcing Bellamy to back up. “I’m the princess , there’s no way you saw a wanted poster with my face splashed across it; my mother couldn’t afford the embarrassment.”

Another step, and another. They were nose to nose as Bellamy’s back hit a tree. He was trapped. “I don’t know—“

“And—“ She cut him off. “—I would have seen them, and immediately taken them down. I’ll ask again, Bellamy. Where did you see my picture?”

He swallowed, and she couldn’t help but glance down. She realized her chest was brushing against his every time she inhaled, and there was barely an inch of space between them.

The next words out of Bellamy’s mouth were a distraction from the truth that Clarke had stumbled upon. He was trying to lead her astray. “We’ve been out in the open for too long, we should head back inside—“

She stepped back, the realization finally clicking into place as she took a good look at his face. “Why? With your royal training I’m sure you’d be able to take out the guard with ease. Right? Prince Bellamy?”

His skin went pale, even as he tried to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She shook her head, laughing at her blindness, beginning to pace as all the pieces fell into place. “It’s how you knew my name, the royal crest on Erebus’ chest, your mother being stronger with a husband—she’s the queen, clearly, I see it now—your training with the arrows.” She paused. “You’re a very good shot, by the way.”

Bellamy still looked petrified. “Thank you.”

Clarke continued as if there had been no pause. “Your friends, they wait on you hand and foot, so they must know who you are—in fact, you must have brought them with you when you ran.” She stopped, and dug her finger into his chest. “You're the  reason for all of this.”

He slapped her finger away, his expression incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

She threw her hands up in the air. “You’re the reason for everything that has happened these past few months. You’re the reason for my mother losing her mind; you’re the reason I ran away from my kingdom.”

He still wasn’t convinced. “So, what? My decisions made you become a criminal?”

She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her anger in check. “If you hadn’t’ve decided to duck out on our engagement, none of this would be happening. So, yes, in short? You are the reason for my numerous near death experiences and criminal record.”

Bellamy’s nostrils flared, and suddenly Clarke’s anger wasn’t alone. “Weren’t you tired of being handed off for alliances? Weren’t you sick of being treated like a pawn, something without emotions, without a life—made to just sit there and look nice and act nice even when everything was falling apart at the seams?”

“We had a duty.” Clarke crossed her arms. “To both our  kingdoms. Our people deserved to feel safe—“

“What about what we deserve?!” Bellamy’s voice exploded from his throat, loud enough to shake the birds from their trees. “Huh? What about us and our lives and what we want? Doesn’t that matter at all to you?”

She stepped closer. She felt like the rage building in her stomach was strong enough to pop both their heads off. “We don’t get to be selfish, Bellamy. We were born into this life, that’s just how it is. But you know what? If you couldn’t handle it? I’m glad you ran away, I’ll form an alliance on my own—“

Something pierced the side of her arm, and a strange feeling spread throughout her body. She collapsed to the ground, and suddenly couldn’t communicate to her limbs in order to get up again. The last thing she saw was Bellamy’s face, cradling her own. She could see his mouth moving, she thought he might have been saying her name, but he wasn’t making any noise.

***

Pain pounded throughout every part of her body as she slowly came to. Her eyes blinked open, and before her was a vacant throne. At first she thought it might have been her own, but she realized the detailing was much too dark to have belonged to Abby Griffin.

She attempted to stand, only to find her hands tied behind her back.

Bellamy .

She looked around, and was relieved to see she was alone. They must have only taken her, and left the others. She breathed in deeply, relief overtaking the pain for just a moment.

Something rustled as she moved, and she looked down to see pink tulle protruding from her body. Why am I wearing a dress? 

“Sir, she’s awake.” A guard standing by the door saluted to someone in the shadow.

“Okay? Put her back under?”

The deeper voice mumbled something in a different language, and stomped into the light, directly into Clarke’s line of vision.

Clarke gasped as his familiar slashed eye and stupid grin came into focus.

“King Orpheus.” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, and failed.

“Hello, princess.” He tilted her face upwards with a finger under her chin. “Where’s your prince?”

Clarke opened her mouth to answer, but another shock pierced her arm, and she was slumped to the ground once more.

***

Clarke didn’t know how long she had been out for, but suddenly she was being yanked up onto her knees by the hair at the back of her head.

“Let go of  me. I’m the prin cess —“

The words died in her throat as she saw none other but Bellamy being led in, chains keeping him from fighting against the guards.

She fought against her restraints. “What are you doing here? You were safe, you all were —“

The guards threw him down onto his knees next to her, and he grunted with pain. There was blood dripping from his eyebrow and a little from his nose, and she ached to reach out and help him.

He looked at her, his smile wry. “Wherever you go, I go.”

“Ah.” Orpheus clapped his hands together, grinning manically at his prisoners. “I’m glad we’ve all been acquainted.”

Clarke wanted nothing more than to spit directly in his face.

“Oh, now why the long faces? Aren’t you happy to be home, Bellamy? And Clarke, this would have been your home had you not run away and caused this whole upset.”

“I never would  have lived in your home.” Clarke nearly growled.

“But, regardless of the mishaps along the way, you’ve both ended up where you belong.” Orpheus plopped onto his throne, his smile never wavering. “And running away clearly was pointless, because you both fell in love anyway. Don’t believe me, sweetheart? My son chose to come here; to save you.”

Clarke glanced over at Bellamy, who’s jaw was clenched tight, knowing the consequences of his father figuring out his true feelings.

“And you,” he pointed at Clarke, chuckling. “You pulled quite a performance off in the market that day. Ten men. Did you do that all by yourself?”

Clarke didn’t answer.

“Oh well, then. I’ll simply have to assume you’re that skilled.”

He clapped his hands together once more, getting to the main points of his speech. “Now, you’re probably both wondering why I’ve gathered you here today. If you thought your past few months were busy, you should have seen my schedule. Meeting with officers and guards and hunters and spies—all to figure out where you two love birds had gone. In fact, I met with your mother, Clarke, and we struck a deal.” He paused, thoroughly enjoying making them squirm. “I told her that I would bring you both in, and formally form an alliance, if that meant that you would be considered ours to do whatever we wanted with.”

Clarke shook her head in disbelief. “My mother would never agree to a deal like that.”

“Wouldn’t she? Who sent the royal assassins after you? Who had your father killed ? I think she’s more than capable of cutting a deal with a crooked king.”

His smile was nauseating. How did he know about her father? Had her mother told him? Was it just common knowledge amongst kingdoms now? You can miss a lot when you’re on the run for months, you know.

“King Orpheus.” A voice boomed from the edge of the room, and a woman dressed in all black approached the throne.

Clarke squinted, and saw that there was blood splatter covering her neck.

“My child. You faired well in battle, I see.” Orpheus said, as the woman bowed deeply at the foot of the throne. “Why have you returned so soon?”

The woman stood to face Clarke and Bellamy, wearing a grin that rivalled the king’s. “I couldn’t stand to miss all the fun.”

“We’ve barely begun.”

She practically purred, skipping up the steps to stand beside the throne. “Perfect.”

Clarke couldn’t help but think that she’d seen the woman before. She glanced to her left, and suddenly it registered. The dark hair, the sharp jawline—the woman was Bellamy’s sister.

“Bellamy. You’re looking—“ she glanced him up and down, shrugging. “—better than ever, really.”

Definitely Bellamy’s sister.

“And this must be the infamous princess everyone is always going on about.” Clarke received her own glance, and the woman winced. “I’m not sure what about.”

“Octavia.” Bellamy greeted, his smile forced. “You haven’t changed.”

Octavia?

“Let’s see if I’m not the only one.” She smiled, and leaned down to whisper into the King’s ear.

Clarke kept her voice low, and stared straight ahead as she spoke to Bellamy.

“You didn’t tell me the Chief of War was your sister.”

“And you didn’t tell me you were the princess.” His reply was sharp. “I guess we don’t know each other as well as we thought we did.”

Clarke couldn’t stop her mind from wandering to his family, and her bitterness about the existence of one particular member.

A few moments passed, Octavia making meaningful glances towards them as she murmured to the king.

“Did you meet Echo before or after?

Bellamy furrowed his brow. “Before or after what?”

“Did you leave because of her?”

“Are you serious? Take a look around you!” He would have gestured to the dark throne room that surrounded them had his hands not been bound. “Does this look like  a warm and friendly childhood home to stay in to you?”

“Well, I was just checking . No need to get so crotchety about it.”

Bellamy huffed, and glared at the space in front of him; Clarke did the same. Why was he like that? Why would he come here, assumably to save her, and still be mad at her?

God, she hated men.

“Clarke.” Bellamy’s voice was considerably softer, but she still didn’t look at him. “I was only with Echo because I felt like I had to be. We were together because it made sense at the time, but—“ He swallowed. “—things have changed.”

Her heart fluttered annoyingly, and she couldn’t help but meet his gaze.

“I left her to come here.” His stare was still hard, but it was in order to firmly get his point across. “For you.”

All she wanted, was to throw her arms around him. “Bellamy—“

“Guards.” Orpheus thundered. “Shut them up.”

Her hair was yanked backwards, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. The same action was carried out against Bellamy, and he cursed in the language native to his kingdom.

“You won’t get away with this, you know.” Clarke spat at the King’s feet as he lumbered down the stairs. “My people won’t stand for it.”

Orpheus only smiled. “Your people? Are mine , now. And they will stand for whatever I tell them to. Including—“ he swooped his arms in the direction of Octavia, and smirking, she made her way down the steps as well. “—the brilliant plan my daughter has just given me.”

Bellamy was still cursing.

Orpheus looked to him, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. “My son, my prince, I wish things were not as they were.”

“I am anything but  your son.” Bellamy snapped, writhing against his chains.

“And so,” Orpheus continued as if Bellamy had not spoken. “I would like to offer you a chance to change your fate. You will rule this kingdom one day when I am gone, and your princess is supposed to rule our neighbouring kingdom.” He paced back and forth in front of the prisoners, trying to portray as if he was solving a grave issue. “However, how can I know that your princess will rule in my favour? How can I be insured that the kingdom will flourish under our influence?”

Clarke felt anxiety begin to pulse within her, a deep sense of dread starting to build inside her stomach.

Bellamy’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were narrowed in revulsion. “Your influence is bullshit.”

“You only say that because it is stronger than yours.” The King wiped a hand over the top of his head, smoothing out the hairs there, alluding a strong sense of distaste for outbursts. “As I was saying, there is only one way I can be sure that my new kingdom will thrive—and that is to improve its current ruler.”

Clarke felt ready to vomit.

“You can’t kill the queen.” Bellamy exclaimed.

Orpheus laughed. “Of course not.” He smiled. “I’m going to kill the princess.”

Clarke gasped, and Bellamy turned red, veins bulging in his resistance against the guards. “Lay a hand on  her, and I’ll kill you —“

“I’m not planning on touching her, Bellamy.” Orpheus continued. “You’re going to kill the princess.”

“ What ?”

“ No .”

Orpheus rolled his eyes. “‘What!’ ‘No!’ Oh my god , you’re both so dramatic.” He turned on his heel, and stalked back up the steps, planting himself on his throne. “You haven’t even heard the best part, and you’re bouncing off the walls.”

He inhaled deeply, and continued in the silence. “Once Clarke is gone, the kingdom will need a new princess. And we have the perfect replacement standing right here.”

Bellamy’s eyes drifted towards Octavia, who was still smiling silently. “No. No .”

Octavia stepped closer, leaning down and tilting his head with a finger to his chin. “Oh, yes , brother. I will be the new princess, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

He jerked away from her touch, a near growl sounding in his throat.

Clarke felt lightheaded, and did her best not to sway and risk being reprimanded again. There had to be something, there had to be someone —

Clarke’s head snapped up. “Where are the others?”

Bellamy glared as Octavia walked away, and inhaled. “On their way.”

King Orpheus ordered for a bow and arrow to be carried in, and Bellamy was released from his chains. He grasped the weapon that was held out to him, slowly rising to his full height.

He stood in front of Clarke, stretching the arrow back to his ear. She couldn’t help but notice that his hand was trembling.

“And if you don’t kill the princess,” Orpheus warned. “Your darling sister will be killed in her place.”

Bellamy tilted his head left and right, loosening his joints. “I understand.”

Clarke felt a tear slip from her eye, and she had to look away from Bellamy’s gaze. He wouldn’t sacrifice his sister for her, and the kingdom would fall under a tyrants control.

At least she wouldn’t be alive to see it.

“Sophistication sits in her prison, and chivalry fell on his sword.” Orpheus sighed, pouting his lips, but there wasn’t a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Clarke met Bellamy’s gaze once more, to say goodbye, to show him that she didn’t blame him. He mouthed the words I’m sorry,  and she shook her head.

No choice , she mouthed back.

Finally, she hardened her gaze, steeling herself against what was to come.

But Bellamy still wasn’t loosing the arrow. She looked up in time to catch his wink, and watched as he spun on his heel and fired the arrow in the king’s heart instead.

The guards swung into action, grabbing Octavia and following their orders to kill her. Bellamy knocked another arrow into his bow, and pointed it at them.

“You heard the king.” He said. “Once he is gone, the power of the crown falls to me. Therefore, you will obey my instruction or meet his same fate.”

The guards were frozen, stalled between what order they should follow.

Bellamy tightened his grip on his arrow. “ Unhand my sister .”

The men looked to once another, shrugging, and then did as they were told. Octavia wrenched herself from their grip, growling not at them, but in Bellamy’s direction.

“You have made the biggest mistake of your life. He was going to give us everything we had ever wanted. And you give it up? For her ?”

The shake of Bellamy’s head was heavy with sadness. “He was going to give you everything you ever wanted. I didn’t give up anything.” He turned away from her, eyes shut. “Guards, I’ve changed my mind; arrest her.”

Octavia fought their grasp, anger overcoming her common sense. “On what grounds?”

“A danger to the crown.”

The guards hauled a pleading and screaming Octavia away, and Bellamy did not look up again until the doors had shut.

He finally made eye contact with Clarke, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. “What are you standing around for?” He snapped at the guards. “Release her from her chains.”

They rushed to obey, and Clarke shakily stood to her feet, rubbing the red lines encircling her wrists. Bellamy motioned her to come forward, a furrow still creasing his brow.

“Did you really think I’d kill you?” He asked, stroking a piece of hair away from her face.

She exhaled, a half laugh. “You had me convinced for while there.”

He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes against the touch, squeezing his hands that she just realized she was holding.

“Wait here,” he said softly. “I have some announcements to make.”

She nodded, and he squeezed her hands one last time before making his way to his throne.

“Bellamy! Did you save any of  the fun for us?”

Clarke spun to find Miller, Raven, Emori and Murphy standing in the doorway, grins stretching their faces; Clarke couldn’t help but rush to them.

They embraced her openly as Bellamy said, “If you had shown up on time, maybe I wouldn’t have had to have all the fun to myself.”

The group made faces and stuck out their tongues, still hugging Clarke.

Bellamy shook his head in order to hide his smile, and Clarke saw his gaze drift to the body on the floor.

He addressed the room, voice booming. “What happened here today will not reach the ears of my people. We will host a proper funeral for the former king, and the only story the papers will tell is one of a sudden illness. Is that understood?”

Everyone in the room nodded quickly, and the King’s body was soon taken away.

Still addressing the room, Bellamy locked his gaze on Clarke’s, causing her heart to flutter, only a slightly annoying occurrence this time.

“And when the funeral is over and done with, we’ll have a wedding to plan.”

They had barely exchanged a smile before the group standing around her began to whoop and cheer, dancing around her and hoisting her up into the air.

“ And —“ Bellamy continued over the noise. “—as will begin the construction of a new palace. One that is to rest evenly between our kingdoms, so that we may rule together.”

Clarke’s chest glowed, and she felt it expand with happiness until she thought it might burst.

Bellamy’s smile showed that he was feeling equally as content.

***

Three months later.

“My queen,” Bellamy bowed, just as they reached the door.

The people waiting inside looked around anxiously, as the piano player had to stretch his song to make up for the late bride and groom.

Clarke shrugged inwardly—they could wait for a little longer.

“My king.” Clarke curtsied, bending just enough that Bellamy received a full view of her cleavage.

Bellamy bit his lip, but somehow managed to hold his composure. “Where are your flowers?”

Clarke looked down into her empty hands, where her bouquet had once been. She remembered them distinctly being yanked from her grip before she was pulled into a broom closet a mere five minutes ago.

She raised her eyebrows. “Where’s your tie?”

Bellamy’s eyes widened, only to reach down and tug on the missing tie, which was secured tightly around his neck. “That’s a dirty trick to play on someone on their wedding day.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been participating in such dirty activities before the ceremony.”

He groaned, “But my queen, my soon to be wife is just so— irresistible .” His eyes trailed down to her chest and waist seductively, nearly undressing her with his gaze.

She felt a flash of heat between her legs, and had to look away from his alluring stare.

“Be careful, my king, or you might not make it to the ceremony.”

His breath was suddenly right at her ear, hot and distracting enough to make her weak in the knees. She felt his smile against her neck. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”

He had just begun laying the foundation for that very thing, when she shoved him away, waggling her finger. “Your people await. And I can’t have a hickey on  my wedding day.”

His grin was still devilish, but he did as he told, throwing her one last grin before making his way down the aisle.

She waited for a breath or two, and then followed his path.

Soon, the priest had finished his words, and pronounced them husband and wife.

Bellamy brushed his nose against hers, his voice impossibly tender. “Wherever you go, I go.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes to his touch. “You’re legally bound to that now, I hope you realize.”

He smiled, and pulled her against him, looking lovingly into her eyes before crushing his mouth to hers.

It seemed that neither of them had a problem with that.