Chapter Text
The reluctant prince.
The scholar.
That was all Bellamy was known as and to the credit of the people at court, they weren’t entirely wrong. As much as he knew that the role he had been born into was a part of why he was able to have access to so much of what he loved, he still despised being royalty. And he wasn’t even the king yet.
While his mother was overall in as good of health as could be expected, she was still getting older and the effects of the Northern climate seemed to grow stronger. She was more prone to getting sick than he and his sister, a fact that made every winter a tense one as they kept her bundled up in the thickest robes possible. It made him wish that fate had destined them to be rulers in a more southern country, one where the ocean air and warm sun could help prevent that dreaded feeling each year while he closely monitored her health. But that wasn’t the case, instead giving them varied seasons of different temperatures and a sometimes drafty, sprawling castle nestled amongst hills and forests.
Queen Aurora’s health aside though, it was already expected of Bellamy to begin to plan to take her place on the throne at some point soon regardless. She’d ruled for a lengthy time alone, no man by her side, and it would soon be time for her to spend the rest of her days away from the stresses of ruling and passing the title to her eldest child. And as king, heirs would also be required of him.
And for an heir to happen, he needed to be married.
It was no doubt the bane of Advisor Kane’s existence to attempt to find a suitable wife for Bellamy. On paper, a prince should have been easy to market. Bellamy wasn’t so unaware as to not know that he was considered attractive. As much as his mother fussed about his hair, he liked the tousled black curls that he had (as did some of the people who had some experience… pulling it when the situation arose). While he spent more time in the library than anywhere else, he spent the remainder of his days in the stables training with the knights. With a smaller staff than other royal households, thus giving him more physical duties than an average prince, he’d built up a muscular physique that he was proud of.
But the benefits ended there, therefore beginning Kane’s difficulty.
Bellamy knew he had a bad temper and it had certainly made its rounds in court gossip. He was most likely too stubborn for his own good (but really though, had anyone met his sister?), which apparently wasn’t an attractive trait. Few women seemed interested in a surly man who would rather hide away in a library, pouring over tomes of ancient history and religion instead of attending parties or socializing.
Maybe the rejections should have bothered him, but Bellamy really couldn’t bring himself to care. It was always the same. The lady would arrive to the castle, be thrown off by the darkness that shrouded it, be turned off by him, and then leave.
One more reputation added to his character.
Which was why he wasn’t expecting much when Kane rushed to tell him that a new potential bride was on her way to visit them and she’d be arriving in Arkadia sometime by the end of the month.
Bellamy had barely looked up from his books, the end of a quill gently resting against his lips as he grunted in acknowledgement to Kane’s words.
He didn’t know who this Princess Clarke was, but he had no reason to believe that she’d be any different from the last girl who had fled at the idea of marrying into all of this .
Octavia’s chambermaids had barely been able to clean her up before shoving her into the Grand Hall next to Bellamy and his mother. With all of her sharp angles and even sharper gaze, it was easy for most to forget how young she was at just fifteen-years-old. Not that Bellamy could — royal duties had occupied his mother’s time and even with chamber maids, he had been his baby sister’s main caregiver during her childhood. He would have reprimanded her for training with the other knights so close to arrival of Princess Clarke and her entourage, but to be fair, he had barely been able to be dragged out of the library while Miller had barked at him to try and fix his hair.
Neither of them were good at pretending to care about things, much to everyone’s chagrin in the castle.
“A silver piece on how long she lasts?” Octavia muttered, keeping her posture upright and face forward, but barely leaning to the left so that she could whisper to Bellamy.
He swallowed a laugh as he caught Kane’s disapproving frown.
“A week?”
“I’ll give you two silver pieces if she lasts that long,” Octavia said quickly, her words barely getting out before the groaning creak of the grand hall door opening echoed in the chamber.
Bellamy’s eyes were immediately drawn to who he assumed was the princess at the front of the precession. She looked smaller than him, quite the difference compared to the statuesque Marquess Echo of Azgeda who had come the previous year, a woman who had stood proudly as tall as him. The princess’ blonde hair was nearly white in the cool-toned room, her skin paler than he would have guessed for a member of the royal family from the south. But everything else matched up to what he would expect. Perfect posture, her shoulders rolled back and her head held high. She moved with ease underneath the layers of fabric that were piled on top of her, a deep green fabric that looked as soft as her skin.
The thought came unbidden to him and he shook his head to get rid of it, studying her closely as they approached. She was flanked by a woman he could only assume was her mother, with a guard directly next to her before the line of servants and various other guardsmen behind them. A traditional lineup, though he noted the curious, almost apprehensive, looks of the lady’s maids as they looked around.
He imagined they were startled by the draftiness of the old castle. He’d never been to one in the south, but here their castles were testaments to history. The old world and religion had viewed the monarchy with a reverancy, but also a practicality.
There would be no extravagance here – nothing wasted unlike the elaborate, over-the-top lifestyle of the southern royalty that he had heard about.
It made him bristle up, already prepared for a brief experience with this new potential bride.
It was always the entitled, spoiled ones that left first.
The princess though, Clarke if he remembered correctly, didn’t look around though. She wasn’t distracted by the dark stone and wood that accented the arching ceilings and the simple stained glass windows. Her eyes were entirely focused on him and he felt like the blueness could pierce through him. Her expression was perfectly composed; he couldn’t get a read on her at all.
The last thought he had before Kane stepped forward for the introductions was he wondered if her eyes were the color of the ocean she grew up by.
“Your majesties, Queen Abigail and Princess Clarke. Welcome to Arkadia,” Kane said as he gave a sweeping bow.
To Bellamy’s surprise, he then kissed each of their cheeks, in a move more familiar and comfortable than he would have expected. He didn’t get to dwell on it for long though as the advisor then turned and gestured to him and his family.
“May I officially introduce you to her highness, Queen Aurora?”
His mother stepped forward primly, the two women briefly touching hands before Bellamy found himself automatically moving forward at the jerk of Kane’s head.
“And this is Prince Bellamy and Princess Octavia. This is Princess Clarke,” he said, giving them room to step closer. Octavia reached them first, exchanging in a curtsey with them and then stepping aside for him.
His bow felt more uncomfortable than normal, unable to tear his eyes away from Clarke’s as she curtsied. It felt like a challenge to see which of them could look away first and he’d be damned if it was going to be him.
He could vaguely overhear the two queens discussing the travel here and a smile finally almost quirked onto Clarke’s face before she became the one to break the stare to answer a question his mother had asked her about how she found the lands of Arkadia so far.
Besides the fact that she seemed to be genuinely impressed with the rugged terrain around them (most of them seemed to struggle to lie about that), Bellamy was intrigued by her voice. It was low and clear, almost huskier for a woman than he was used to. He only started when Octavia subtly stepped on his foot.
Her eyes told him to pull himself together so he sighed and straightened his posture some more, just in time to realize everyone was looking at him.
“I asked how your studies have been,” Clarke said, the challenge back in her eyes as they stared each other down. “I’ve heard most impressive things about the literature collection here in Arkadia.”
“It’s going well,” Bellamy replied after a beat.
In his defense, he wasn’t used to being asked about his readings. Clearly she had heard all of the good and bad about him if she was asking that, but it still threw him off.
So his answer came out short and incredibly lacking, leaving an awkward pause as everyone else realized he wasn’t going to elaborate.
Eventually Kane cleared his throat and turned to Queen Abigail and Clarke, telling them that he’d be delighted to escort them to their rooms for their stay. Repeating the posturing of an exit, everyone refiled in line behind the royal family and Kane led them out of the grand hall and into the labyrinth of the rest of the castle.
“Could you have tried any harder to be the most boring bastard ever?”
“Octavia!” Snapped Aurora, though she followed it up with a reproachful look at Bellamy. “Dear, I understand it can be exhausting to keep meeting new young ladies and try to imagine marrying one. But please, could you attempt some more conversation at dinner tonight? I know you’re better than that.”
Bellamy sighed.
“Of course, I was just caught off guard,” he muttered, knocking Octavia with his elbow and leaning over to kiss his mother on the cheek. “I’ll be the perfect prince for the rest of the time she’s here, however short that may be.”
He then turned on his heel to leave, ignoring the protests from his mother to be more optimistic and Octavia’s stifled giggling.
He really needed to go spar with Miller. Or just something, anything , to stop thinking about Princess Clarke and their first interactions.
Bellamy had no idea why Kane remained so positive that Princess Clarke would somehow be the one to break through to him and be the one he married.
The past week had entirely proved otherwise to him.
He was no stranger to getting women into bed when he desired it, even the occasional man once or twice, but it turned out that Bellamy had no idea how to court someone. None of the other princesses had given him the time of day for him to even try. And he had promised his mother that he would actually attempt to be on his best wooing behavior.
Since that first day though, when it had appeared that he hadn’t been listening to her, Clarke was difficult to interact with. It wasn’t an explicit thing, but it turned out she was just as stubborn as him. She made him elaborate on everything, letting every awkward moment live out to its full terribleness until he was forced to say more. She took to peppering in references into her small talk that she would then pause at, glancing over at him to see if he knew what she was talking about. It would make him frown but he nearly always understood it.
She was smart, at least, he’d give her that.
But the frustrating part was even when he felt like he had been smooth, giving her a cocky but confident grin, she’d simply respond coolly to it.
Princess Clarke was truly the most aggravating person he had ever met.
Which meant that even as Kane would say, “I think she’s the best match we’ve found for you,” Bellamy found himself losing any desire to even try.
Which was how they found themselves in their current status.
The two families went horseback riding and Bellamy made a snarky comment about her needing a donkey, or something more suited to her small stature, and it somehow resulted in them racing each other. The shared amused looks on their mothers’ faces once they came back, completely drenched in mud, had only been glossed over by Octavia’s frustration at not winning because she had gotten lost once they’d entered the forest.
There was a casual party thrown to welcome Clarke and her mother to Arkadia, and when they’d danced it had almost been impossible to determine who stepped on whose shoes more. Bellamy had been told that dances were often a great chance to have stolen moments with a romantic partner, potential or otherwise. The ability to touch them, even in the most proper way, compared to the distance most often kept between them during the day. The music, the free-flowing alcohol.
Bellamy had walked away from it vowing to never be in that close of proximity to Clarke ever again.
Kane had listened to him with an amused smile, the two of them seated in Bellamy’s study. It was a gray day; a thick fog had rolled in overnight and brought with it a heavy mist. He’d forgone the chance for a lone ride with his horse and instead holed himself up in his study. Kane had found him and had asked for updates at the previous night’s party, thus subjecting him to the barrage of frustrations that the prince had.
“I still think there’s time for a conclusion to be reached that benefits both parties,” was all the advisor said. It made Bellamy swear.
Any other thoughts he’d have wanted to voice though were cut off by a knock on the door.
It certainly wasn’t his sister. She never thought to knock.
With raised eyebrows, Bellamy called out for the person to come in and watched as the door opened and Clarke’s head poked through.
He did his best to not groan audibly.
‘I’ll leave you two alone,” Kane said, pausing to bow on his way out of the room. Bellamy would have thrown a book at him for being so obvious, except he didn’t want to damage any of his books.
“I’m surprised he left us alone, it doesn’t look like there’s much weight to etiquette here,” Clarke said dryly as she stepped fully in.
“Etiquette is a waste of time in most cases,” Bellamy grumbled back, refusing to get from his chair to give her the proper greeting that he was sure etiquette would have told him was the right thing to do..
Which earned him the snappy response of, “clearly.”
“Can I help you or did you just come here to bother me?” Bellamy asked in a huff.
Clarke’s eyes narrowed as she walked forward, dropping into the seat in front of him that Kane had previously been occupying. As the days went on, she’d mirrored his lack of decorum and even now, she sat relaxed in the chair with her posture more slouched than that her day and her arms resting idly on the arms of it with her legs spread out.
Not gone was the challenge she always carried in her eyes.
“No one’s shown me the library yet.”
It wasn’t the answer he was expecting.
“You know,” she continued, “the large room where all of the books are kept.”
That time he didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes (his mother wasn’t anywhere nearby to tell him he was setting a bad example for Octavia).
“I didn’t want to lose the one place I can keep all to myself,” he drawled. He didn’t tell her that the library was through his study and that it felt too much like revealing a part of himself to her that he wasn’t prepared for and it wasn’t as simple as hiding away from her.
At that, Clarke sat right back up with that perfect posture and her eyes flashed into anger. “You’re not the only one who likes to read,” she said hotly. “Excuse me for trying to find a way to occupy my time while being miserably courted because the prince of Arkadia is an ass.”
They were both abruptly silent as Clarke’s words sunk in and Bellamy struggled to tell if he was embarrassed for being called out or annoyed at the implication that he was the only source of problem in this situation.
He ended up deciding he was angry.
“Listen here Princess,” he snarled out the title, “if you’re so miserable, why are you even here? You and your mother are free to leave at any time to go back to your precious castle by the ocean and your perfect little life back home.”
Clarke’s expression had twisted into a frown that only deepened as he carried on. It wasn’t until he was done talking though that he realized that the two of them were now leaning across the desk towards each other, the heat of their anger nearly rolling off of them.
For a brief moment, he almost wondered if he was close to kiss her. Certainly the first time he’d wondered that since Kane had began parading the young women through the castle. But before he could even imagine what it might be like, simply closing the small gap between them and stealing a kiss, Clarke’s face seemed to crumple and the moment was broken. He watched helplessly as she pushed herself back and stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open so that he could hear the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Her sudden exit surprised him and he was left half-leaning out of his chair, his forearms on the desk, while he tried to think of what it was that he had said to set her off.
Surely they had been rude to each other throughout this week before then? It hadn’t felt malicious, as much as a cynical approach to the truth.
But when dinner eventually rolled around, and Queen Abigail begged them to forgive her daughter’s absence (“she’s got a bit of an upset stomach and wants to sleep it off”), Bellamy came to the conclusion that he had definitely said something wrong.
It must have been obvious too. When Octavia leaned over and gleefully told him that she’d have to get him two silver pieces tomorrow since she had lost the bet (she preferred no extra princesses at the castle even if meant losing), he hadn’t felt as excited by the prospect as he would have thought he’d be. With every other option, he’d been counting down their departure. With Clarke, he almost hadn’t realized it had been a full week. And that was including how disastrous all of their interactions had been.
While picking at his dessert, Bellamy started to come to the conclusion that as much as Clarke got on his nerves, he also begrudgingly liked her company. No one outside of his sister was that comfortable pushing and pulling him, never taking it too far. Hadn’t all of their fights been almost playful this week? What really was a horse race at the end of the day? It was a far cry from miserably staring at each other across a small table set up in the garden. And had Bellamy ever liked parties before anyway? At least with Clarke he’d had a distraction.
And of course, it was tonight they had a real fight. A fight that made him realize he didn’t actually mind her company but might actually accidentally drive her away.
Great.
Just great.
The next morning the rain and fog remained, cloaking the castle. Octavia was restless and he spent a good portion of the morning helping spar with her, their wooden swords filling the otherwise quiet rooms with sharp clacking at contact.
Eventually their mother begged them to do something else so she could think about a land dispute she was working on settling, so they moved out into the halls until Octavia grew bored and decided to go off to the kitchens to beg for an early lunch. Which left Bellamy with two wooden swords and the rest of the day.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to finish working on his Latin transcriptions. With the decision made, he wandered through the halls until reaching his study. He was trying to not think about how much things had fallen apart the night before (as well as the realizations he might have had) and the old language would be just the thing to distract him. After opening the door though, he then immediately dropped the two swords at the sight in front of him.
To the left in his study, her teal blue dress flared out around her and her blonde hair glowing softly in the candlelight and muted winter light coming in from the windows, was Clarke.
“You’re still here!”
“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies,” Clarke reprimanded, barely looking up from her spot on the couch. She’d slipped off the short, everyday heels that she wore and left them toppled over on the ground. Her skirt somewhat bunched up around her, Bellamy found that she looked even smaller with her feet tucked up underneath her. But more than that, she looked completely at home on the burgundy chaise lounge that had sat in his study unused for as long as he could remember. He’d always preferred reading at his desk.
He stood at the door for a moment longer, the silence dragging on until she finally looked up from the book. He recognized the yellowish tan leather that bound it as a book that he had finished the other day. He must have left it on his desk.
“And of course I’m still here, I’d planned on staying at least a fortnight,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Maybe it was, he had to admit even to himself that he hadn’t paid much attention to what everyone had said at the start of the week. And that provided him the chance to do what he knew he should have done immediately after what had happened last night.
“I’d like to apologize to you Clarke,” he said quickly before she could say anything, testing her name in his mouth for what might have been the first real time. That caught her off guard and she cocked her head at him.
“While I have to admit I’m not exactly sure what exactly I said last night, I do know that I said something that deeply offended you. And while I’ve enjoyed our banter, I clearly crossed a line.”
A small smile slipped onto her face and it helped lighten Bellamy’s stress as he waited for her to respond. She gave him a small shake of the head.
“You don’t have to apologize. You wouldn’t have known. It was, well, the comment about the perfect life.” She let out a long breath, placing a ribbon at her place in the book before closing it. “There’s no reason for you to know, but I’ve had several… instances back home that make it a far from perfect life. I’d done well in pushing them out of mind until you said something, and I’m afraid I couldn’t hold myself together properly last night.”
His stomach clenched at her admittance and he stepped cautiously forward.
“My father, King Jacob, passed away just a year ago,” she continued softly. “And then right after, the woman I was betrothed to left me for her old lover. She was a general in the militia and the royal family turned out to be something far scarier to her than war. I was left at the altar.”
At that, Bellamy nearly sunk onto the chair beside the chaise lounge out of shock rather than gravity.
“I had no idea, I’m so sorry Clarke,” he started to say but she waved him off.
“Back home, I’m such a scandal that it’s unbearable. So when Kane wrote to my mother, we couldn’t help but jump on the chance. There are too many ghosts that neither of us can avoid, so we took the chance to come here. And you’re, well you’re exactly like you were described.” She laughed at that and Bellamy snorted as well, feeling a grin forming on his face. “And even though I wasn’t wrong about you being an ass, I realized last night that it was the first time in awhile I got to just be myself. I was just Clarke. I didn’t think of any of what had been plaguing me. You didn’t look at me with pity.”
Bellamy found himself nodding along as well. Even in the most traditional of moments of courtship, it hadn’t felt as demanding or stiff with Clarke as it had in the past. He’d always been too distracted by her sassiness or trying to come up with some type of rebuttal.
“I’m sorry that I brought those memories back for you,” Bellamy said once she was done talking. “I’m glad you felt like you could be yourself while you were here, that’s all I could ever ask of someone in this position.”
Her cheeks had grown stained with pink as she’d talked about her past, her eyes shining as she looked up at his words.
“I suppose I’m not good at making friends either,” he added on sheepishly.
“You’re friends with your guardsman, Miller. And I’ve seen you with other people,” she added unhelpfully, but she was smiling all the same.
“Yes, but new friends. People I don’t know very well,” he grumbled. Her smile was wide now and he found he greatly preferred it to distant look she’d worn those first couple days there, or even the sad one he’d just seen her with.
“I feel like there’s something else you’re wanting to say,” Clarke said, leaning forward and he sighed, nodding his head.
He might as well ask her now. Screw losing two silver pieces, he wasn’t ready for his first genuine friendship to drift apart.
“I don’t want to make you any promises right now. But if you would like, I would like you to stay here longer. As my guest, of course.” He tried to not stumble over his words. As friends if it pleases you.”
She nodded, excitedly if a bit shyly, as the last words left his mouth. He sighed with relief.
“It’d be an honor, Bellamy” she said, teasingly reaching her hand out so that he could kiss the couple rings she had on her fingers. He did so, feeling light and thankful that he hadn’t ruined anything last night.
And then he’d gripped her hand and yanked her to her feet. She let out a shriek of surprise but quickly righted herself as he pointed to a tucked back door in the corner of the room.
“If you’re going to stay here, I suppose I should introduce you to the library,” he said proudly.
Clarke clapped her hands excitedly and followed him as he led her towards the door, opening it up to reveal a cavernous room with walls lined with books upon books upon books. Her eyes were filled with wonder as her fingers drifted across the spines of them. He let her wander first, taking it all in, before getting too excited and asking her if she knew anything about astronomy. Which resulted in them each carrying too many books back with them into his study, nearly collapsing under their weight as they tried to stop them from toppling over. The rest of the day was spent with the rain gently hitting the stained glass, creating a gentle lull in the background while they poured over some of the newest discoveries and the oldest myths about the stars above them.
It was the middle of the night when a sudden pounding against Bellamy’s door jerked him awake, blinking disorientedly while he tried to figure out what was going on. When it turned out the loud banging was indeed not a part of his dream, he stumbled out of his tangled covers and ran across his room to swing open the door.
A young page was standing in front of him, chest heaving as they caught their breath. The panicked expression on their face made Bellamy’s heart freeze and if he’d had the strength, his fingers would have left dents in the wood door that he was holding open.
“It’s – it’s Her Majesty, the queen,” the page choked out.
Bellamy could feel the blood draining from his face. The floor was icy beneath his bare feet and his stomach churned.
“She’s dead.”
Maybe if she had been murdered, Bellamy would have been able to find a better release for the anguish that had permanently burrowed into his heart.
He could have hunted someone down, extracted revenge. He could have channeled it into something that felt productive.
But how he was supposed to fight against a weakening body who was too tired to handle another winter? Who was he supposed to battle when his mother had passed peacefully in her sleep, her body never built to resist the difficulties and strains of the life she had lived?
She’d looked just as beautiful in death as she had in life, her long hair released from the tight confines she wore it in during the day. With the crown gone, her nightgown simple, she had simply been his mother. The woman who had raised him and did her best to raise him and his sister while also maintaining a kingdom. Maybe her best hadn’t always been great, but she had always tried.
So that was the attitude that Bellamy tried to embrace after he helped close her eyelids, biting back his own tears while Octavia shook with sobs at the end of the bed.
He knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to be consumed by anger, a common request from her to reign it in. Letting Octavia’s emotions be enough for the both of them, he instructed someone to go wake Kane as well as the priest that lived near the edge of the property. While he only preferred religion in a historical sort of sense, observing through reading rather than practice, he knew his mother would have wanted it.
While they waited for him to arrive and pray over her, Bellamy stepped out into the hall with a shuddering breath.
Everything was going to change now.
He was going to be king.
The very thought made his knees shake and he gingerly sat down on the long bench that was against the wall in the hallway. Rubbing at his face, elbows on his knees, he tried to do everything he could to pull back on the looming emotional wave. He had to hold it together.
Caught up so much in the moment, he almost didn’t see the slippered feet stopped just in front of his own.
“Bellamy?” A voice asked softly, and he looked up to see Clarke standing in front of him. She’d clearly just woken up as well, her hair falling out of a loose braid and her long nightgown covered by just a robe. Her eyes, though still losing their last traces of sleepiness, were looking at him with sadness.
“She’s… she’s gone,” he croaked. “She died in her sleep.”
Clarke must have known, he couldn’t imagine why else she was out of bed, but she still murmured a heartfelt sorry, dropping down next to him on the bench. She gently reached over and grasped his hand in hers. It was the first time they’d touched outside of properly supervised moments and he clung to her like a lifeline.
“It’s unfair.” His voice was hoarse with the tears he was choking back. “She was still young. She didn’t deserve to leave yet.”
Clarke’s thumb was drawing circles on his knuckle and he tried to not lean into her too much. It was still nice having that dainty of a touch, grounding him back to the hallway and stopping his mind from taking over.
She let them sit in silence while he fought to compose himself, occasionally repeating himself about the lack of fairness but otherwise trying to just gain control of his breathing. Gone was the awkward silence that torturously followed them that first part of the week, leaving behind a comforting one.
At one point the priest walked past them, his charcoal gray robes barely brushing against the ground and the gold infinity symbol on his necklace twinkling in the candlelight. He nodded sympathetically to Bellamy, the smell of incense around him trailing after even once he had entered the bedroom.
Bellamy knew the old traditions. He’d been there when they’d been performed for Kane’s sweet, older mother when she had passed away from a violent cough.
He hadn’t ever imagined needing to do it for his own.
“I can’t go in there.”
Clarke looked at him deeply before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said softly. Her voice conveyed something deeper, a weight to her words, and he instinctively knew that she was speaking from experience.
He nodded at that, slowly standing up and pulling himself upright. Clarke stood with him, giving him a small smile. But when she started to drift away, no doubt planning to return to her chambers, Bellamy tightened his grip on her hand. He hadn’t thought too much about it before going ahead and just doing it, but he needed her strength with him. He wasn’t sure how to say it though, but she seemed to understand and returned to his side.
If anyone was surprised by Clarke’s presence beside him during the priest’s blessing, calling on his mother’s soul to rise from the ashes and into the light, no one said anything. No one so much as looked at them oddly as Bellamy stood beside the priest, Clarke tucked just behind him with one hand intertwined with his and the other resting on his forearm.
Octavia clung to his other free hand, her cries only somewhat subdued, but it was the new hand that he was holding that gave him the most comfort.