Chapter Text
The moon is high when Clarke looks out into the water below her, and she follows the coastline to her left to see if there are any more ships docking. When she doesn’t see any, she turns on her heel and makes her way to the bedroom door, grabbing her cloak as she goes. It’s not cold enough outside to where she should have to wear it, but she’s learned that no one really questions it.
Her footsteps are silent as she makes her way down the hall and towards the staircase, and no one she passes gives her a second look. Once she’s out of the castle, she makes her way down the dirt path and towards the gardens so she can slip away to the part of the coastline that no one seems to visit. She’s come here a lot over the years, but she can never bring herself to get into the water. Not after what happened with her mother.
When she’s comfortably on the sand and close enough to the rocks where she’s sure no one else would be able to see her, she pulls her hood down and looks around. If anyone were to see her without her maids then it would cause an uproar, especially with the father’s of the competitors. Afterall, why would they want their sons to wed someone who would throw away propriety without a second thought? Sighing, Clarke gathers her skirts and sits down then takes off her shoes, and curls and uncurls her toes in the sand.
It’s still warm from the sun having shined on it all day, and she looks out at the water, wondering if it’s warm, too. The white moonlight breaks into shards on the moving water, disappearing before she can see the full shape of it. What would happen if I walked into it? With her mother being a water nymph, she should be more comfortable wading in the ocean, but she isn’t. After that time when she was younger and her mother dropped her off the cliff, she’s never been able to bring herself to touch it. She doesn’t blame her mother, necessarily, since her mother seems unconcerned with nearly everything and would prefer to pass her time with the clams and crabs, but she would be lying if she said it didn’t affect her. When her father found out, even he told her that her mother hadn’t meant it, but whenever the two of them went on walks she couldn’t help but wonder if he would drop her, too.
Clarke digs her fingers into the sand then lifts her hand and watches as the tan grains fall back to the ground. She knows she’ll probably never be able to do this again after tomorrow, so she wants to enjoy it while she can. The sound of the water hitting the rocks further down the beach drowns out the sounds of everyone at the docks, and Clarke tilts her head back and up towards the moon. Her cousin, Josephine, has compared her skin to the moonlight, saying that Clarke should want at least some color to her face so her future husband wouldn’t think that she’s sick, but Clarke never understood why.
Whenever she’s in the sun she burns rather quickly which is something she’s come to avoid over the years, but she can stay out in the moonlight for however long she likes without having to worry. As she looks, she begins to wonder if she can make out the lady that her father always told her about. When you look up at the moon, remember that it belongs to the goddess Artemis. Sometimes, you can even see her.
She tries to look now, but she can’t make anything out that would suggest the goddess is there. After all, it’s a wonderful night, why should she want to spend her time looking down on the world when she could join it? The waves crashing on the shore brings her gaze back down to the land, and she focuses on the contrasting colors in front of her. The pale light on the moon spreading across the black color of the water makes the ocean seem even more menacing then she already thought. But, still, she gets an idea.
Taking a deep breath, Clarke stands, curling her toes in the sand as she walks towards the water’s edge. She stops where the wet sand meets the dry, and looks down. The waves rush up, stopping just before her toes and then it goes back. It comes in, and goes back out. In and out. Over and over again until Clarke can feel something inside of her pulling her forward.
When she steps, the cold water rushes up and over her feet, and she sucks in a breath before it goes away again. It’s colder than she expected it to be, but then again she hasn’t been in it in a very long time. She takes another step, feeling the wet sand sticking to the bottom of her feet before the water comes up to wash over them again. It’s not so bad. She lifts up her dress and takes another step, then another, until the water is around her ankles. She could go further, but this is fine for now.
The thought of how vast the ocean is comes into her mind, and she begins to think of all of the monsters that lurk beneath its surface. Like the monsters that her father would tell her about, and her mother, on a few occasions. When she looks down, she can see tiny, silver fish swimming around her feet, their scales reflecting the moonlight. Well, they don’t seem to be scared. Do they?
“Late night swim?” A deep voice calls from behind her, and Clarke stiffens. Her hood isn’t on, so she can’t very well turn around and talk to the man standing behind her. If she did, he would know who she is, but if she doesn’t… “I’m sorry, am I intruding?”
“I would say so, yes.” Her voice comes out harder than she expected, but if she can make it clear that he is, in fact, interrupting her, then maybe he’ll leave her alone.
“My apologies. I was just on a walk, and I happened to see you.”
Being caught up in trying to figure out how she can get out of this situation, Clarke isn’t paying attention to the waves and a larger one crashes into her, soaking her up to her knees. She gasps as the cold water causes her dress to stick to her legs, and she moves to head back to the beach, keeping her head down.
“Do you need help?” The man’s voice sounds even closer now, and she can see him move towards her out of the corner of her eye.
“No, I do not.” She reaches down and picks up her shoes, and as she stands she pulls her hood up and over her face. When she can see that the hood is casting a shadow over her, she finally turns her attention to the man standing a little bit away, and her breath catches.
His hair is dark, as dark as the night sky behind him, and it curls at the ends. Like ink being placed on paper. His skin is golden, dark and tan, and there are freckles...he looks like he could be one of the gods. His clothes look bright against his skin, and since they don’t cover his arms, she can see just how strong he must be. And she notices that there is an apple in his left hand. He must be here for the competition. If he is...
“Thank you, for your concern, but I’m fine.” Clarke lifts her chin as she looks at him, pulling her shoulders back and standing straight how she was taught. But really, she’s not fine. She’s freezing now, and it feels like there’s a slight breeze that is not helping her situation.
“Are you sure?” The guy raises an eyebrow at her. “You seem cold.”
“I am not. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She moves to go around him, but his hand comes out and brushes against her arm and she halts. No one is supposed to touch me.
“Please, let me walk you back.”
Clarke looks at him over her shoulder. He doesn’t seem like the type of man she’s been told about, but that does not mean that his looks can’t be deceiving. His eyebrows are furrowed together and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he looks at her. He looks like he cares.
“Thank you, but no. You should get back to your men.” And with that, Clarke starts down the beach, acting as if she’s going to head into the city but when she turns around another formation of rocks she changes direction and climbs through the bushes before making her way back to the garden.
By the time she’s comfortably back into her room, her dress has dried considerably and so have her legs, but she still shivers as she changes. I will never get into the water ever again. She doesn’t even know what possessed her to do it tonight, but never again. She climbs under the blankets, willing herself to stop shaking as she blows out the candle on her bedside table.
Tomorrow, she’ll need to be well-rested and not tired on her feet, but even if she hadn’t gone down to the water she knows she would still be awake. Tomorrow will be a big day, and she’s never been good at sleeping before big events. She huddles under her blankets even more, curling in on herself as she closes her eyes. It takes some time, but eventually she falls asleep, but not without seeing the white light of the moon and golden skin.
~
Clarke opens her eyes to the feeling of the sun washing over her and the smell of the salt of the water drifting into her room past her draperies. Like any other day, the sun is bright and the sounds of the seagulls flying overhead waiting for their next meal fills the air but, unlike all of the ones before it, this day is different. Today is the contest, she whispers to herself silently. Today is the day you will meet your husband. It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that today will be the day she looks at a complete stranger and marries them hours from this moment, but it’s what is expected of her.
It’s what’s always been expected of her from the moment she was born.
Sitting up, the white sheets pool around her waist and she pulls her braid over her shoulder, deftly undoing the twine that’s been wrapped around the end and running her fingers through her hair. Before long, her maids will come in, placing her in the best gown she owns and covering her face with a veil so that no one else will see it until she is alone with her husband. That makes her feel a little better, though. Knowing that no one will be able to see her expression at any point throughout the entire exchange.
She can hear the sound of the people milling around throughout the hallway outside of her room, and she slides out of her bed and walks towards the window. In the courtyard below, there are many servants moving around as they prepare the grounds for the competition, but none of them see her looking down on them. She prefers that way, though, because it means she’s able to observe others without causing them to question her.
“Princess?” One of the maid’s voices comes through the thick door, and she turns towards it as it opens. In walks Harper, her closest maid in age and the one that she has the best relationship with, followed by the maids of her mother. “Oh, you’re awake. We need to get you ready for the ceremony.”
Clarke sighs softly as she looks out the window again, making sure to stay hidden behind the dark cloth. “How terrible would it be if my mother dropped me into the ocean again?”
“Princess, you shouldn’t speak that way,” Harper says as she reaches out to gather Clarke’s hair in her hands. “There are many great suitors coming to compete today.”
The mention of the suitors, or as Clarke liked to think of them, hunters, sends the rest of the maids into a frenzy, talking about which boats they saw arrive and which men they believed would win. Clarke, however, tunes all of them out in favor of thinking about the man she met last night.
“If you’re lucky, he’ll pass out before he can touch you and you’ll be saved a night,” one of the maids says, and that’s when Clarke realizes that she’s being spoken to.
“I doubt that, she’s untouched. You know men can never help themselves,” another one, Marina, snickers, and she can feel her face heat up.
“I doubt that whatever man wins her hand would be so cruel,” Harper says sharply. “They very well can’t hurt her with her father willing to throw them out.”
Clarke sends a silent thanks to her friend when their eyes meet, but even with Harper’s reassurance, it doesn’t help much. She knows the stories, she’s heard them multiple times, even Josephine told her how Menelaus had taken her before he could even get her undressed. And she didn’t leave out many details.
Clarke stays silent as the maids bathe and work on her, and when they’re finished she stands and walks back towards the window. The men that have come to fight for her hand are lined up now, all of them wearing their best attire. She scans the group, wondering if the man she met the night before is among them, but her hopes fall when she doesn’t see him. Maybe I was wrong. She goes to move away from the window when one of the other maids chuckles.
“Oh, King Bellamy Blake is here.”
King Bellamy Blake? Clarke turns back to peer down at the courtyard again, and there, standing in the middle of the group of guys now is the one she met last night. His black, curly hair looks even more wild now than it did then, and without anything covering his chest, she realizes just how muscular he is.
“Who?” Clarke asks, even though everyone knows of him, she wants to make sure it’s the man from the beach.
“There,” Harper points, “the guy with the black hair. He was at the competition for Josephine’s hand.”
Of course, he was . Pain spears through her heart even though she knows it shouldn’t. Every available man across the country is supposed to show up when a princess is to be wed, so it makes sense that he would be there. But, it doesn’t help the sting that if he does win, he would probably always wish to have married Josephine. Everyone wishes they could have married Josephine.
“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” one of the other maids says, sounding bored, “he’s shorter than almost all of the other men. How could he possibly win a race? Though, with his trickery, he could cheat—”
“You could say the same about Finn Collins being too short,” Harper points out, “but you haven’t.”
“Collins is known for his hunting expertise, he would be able to outrun Blake if he can chase down a deer.”
“Now, did he chase it down or did he kill it with a spear?” Harper raises an eyebrow at the other women, and they glare at her.
The door to the room opens again, and Clarke turns to find her cousin, Josephine, strolling towards her. Josephine is wearing a white dress with gold trimming, and one of the most beautiful necklaces Clarke’s ever seen hanging around her throat.
“There’s my dear cousin.” Josephine smiles. “Don’t you look radiant.”
“Thank you, Josephine.” Clarke smiles slightly, but her veil covers it.
“Are you admiring the competitors?” Josephine walks towards the window and looks down from it. She’s in full view of the people of the courtyard, but Clarke knows that that’s what she prefers. She loves being the center of attention. “I must say, there are a few good men down there fighting for your hand. And King Bellamy Blake has made an appearance.” Her cousin smiles brightly as she waves down at the crowd, and Clarke gets the sudden urge to push her out the window. It’s my wedding day, she’s married, and she’s still flirting with everyone.
“He’s certainly nice to look at, but his kingdom is hardly anything. They say there are goats and sheep running rampant there. A few have even claimed he keeps some in the house with him.” Josephine turns and looks at her. “If he’s lucky, he’ll win and then he’ll be able to stay here with you.” She smiles, then she tilts her head to the side, with a look that Clarke has come to recognize in her eyes. “I’ve also heard he knows a thing or two when it comes to having a woman in his bed.”
Clarke can feel her cheeks turn scarlet, and she looks down at the floor through the bottom of her veil. “Oh, there, there, my little cousin,” Josephine coos, “you should be grateful. After all, your wedding night is just the beginning.”
And with that, Josephine turns and walks back out of the room. Clarke feels like she can’t breathe, trying to drag in a deep breath as silently as she can. They say it’s like a slaughter. There’s supposed to be blood, and the pain—
“Clarke?” Harper reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder, and she looks up at her. “We should get you down to the courtyard.”
Clarke takes another deep breath, and then another, before finally nodding her head and allowing her maid to guide her towards her bedroom door. As she descends the stairs, she tries to calm herself as best as she can. If what Josephine said is true, then maybe it won’t be so bad, she tells herself. But that is assuming that Bellamy actually wins.
She walks up the platform and takes a seat to the left of her father, looking at the men lining up on the other end of the court. There are goblets of wine in most of the men’s hands, but Clarke realizes that Bellamy doesn’t have one. It makes sense, since Clarke doesn’t know why anyone would want to be affected by spirits while they’re supposed to be competing for the hand of a princess, but perhaps they’re experiencing nerves, too. She tries not to flinch at the sound of the men yelling, whooping and laughing loud and pushing each other around. They look like animals.
Her father stands, addressing the people that have gathered to watch the competition while also welcoming Jospehine and her husband, but the words meld together in Clarke’s ears. She doesn’t think Josephine was this nervous on her wedding day a year ago, but she’s never been quite like her cousin. Not in looks, or in her ability to command a room by just walking into it. But, knowing Josephine, she would never admit the truth if she had.
Clarke clutches her hands together in her lap as the men get into position to begin the race, and Clarke sends a silent plea to the gods and goddesses to help her get a good husband. She doesn’t want Cage to win, or Dax, two of the men she’s heard stories about. She doesn’t want Finn Collins to win, since she’s talked to a girl that he tried to court a couple of years ago. Clarke is pretty sure her father might have his own choice for her, but he would never tell her. But she knows her mother couldn’t care less.
She holds her breath as she waits for the starting signal to sound, and when she looks at the men, she can see how almost all of them are looking towards her cousin who puts on a show of smiling and waving at them, but then, there’s Bellamy. When her eyes find his, he’s already looking at her. She feels like she’s frozen in place as he looks at her, his tongue coming out to wet his lips before he looks straight ahead.
The starting sound rings throughout the courtyard, and Clarke jolts in her seat at it, then the men are off. They have to run to the hill and return, and the first one back will be the winner. There will be losers, but none of them would dare make a scene on a day like this. When the men disappear out of view, Clarke tries to breathe, but how could she? Whoever comes through that gate will be the one she marries. She counts the seconds, knowing how long it’s taken some of the soldiers to run to the hill and back. The longer it takes, the more nervous she gets, then, the crowd gasps.
King Bellamy Blake runs through the gate.