Chapter Text
Clarke sighed, flipping the knife in her hand over and catching it in the palm of her hand each time, as she steered the stallion that Indra had given her towards Polis. Towards home.
Who was she kidding? Polis wasn’t her home any longer. It hadn’t been home in years. This just wasn’t how she wanted to return to Bellamy.
When she’d received his wedding invitation, signed directly from the new king himself, she’d thought it was a joke from one of the other girls. It was something Monroe and Emori would absolutely do in their free time.
But the other Maidens had denied it vehemently, and the guards themselves had arrived only days later, confirming Clarke’s greatest fear at that moment.
She was to return to Polis as the head of the new security force, put together with Maidens from across Arkadia. Their job?
Protect the King and his soon-to-be wife until their ceremony and coronation, and perhaps longer. Protect the former love of her life and the new woman in his life.
And to rub salt into the wound, it wasn’t just any Princess who her former love was engaged to. It just had to be Princess Echo of Azgeda, the daughter of the very woman who had organized the death of Bellamy’s father.
How he could be standing to marry her, even for a political alliance, Clarke had no idea, but it didn’t mean stung any less to know.
She'd never been a meek person by nature, but the feeling she’d had the morning she packed her things, walking through the camp, with everyone’s eyes on her? At the moment, she’d only be willing to call it a fit of nerves, but hours later, under the grueling heat of the sun, she finally admitted the name of the pit in her stomach.
Fear.
Fear of seeing Bellamy again, standing next to Echo at the coronation ceremony. Fear of seeing the man who had been her best friend, until the very day she had left Polis.
Dressed in her usual garments of a Maiden, she suddenly felt out of place as she and the women following her passed a group of people by the side of the road. A few were painting an unfamiliar symbol onto the side of an empty house, but a woman caught sight of Clarke and her Maidens, and shouted something unintelligible.
Whatever it was, it was enough for the group to disperse instantly, leaving only the woman who had shouted a warning and two men behind.
The three bowed as she rode up, eyes roving over them. By the look of them, the group was probably a band of rebels, dressed in simple brown robes and their faces openly showing anger, even now. Clarke guessed it had something to do with their king’s wedding plans, not that she could blame their misplaced anger.
In another world, one without the responsibilities of the Shield resting on her, she would probably be by their side.
A traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind as she studied the people in front of her entourage, openly gawking. In another world, she would be the one marrying Bellamy in a month’s time.
Clarke pushed aside the thought before it could begin to worm its way into her thoughts and focused herself on the more pressing issues at hand. The rebels.
She had never been shy about her status, not just as a Maiden of Shield, but the Commander of Death, the leader of the warriors. There was no reason to start now, she argued with herself, despite feeling more than a little self-conscious.
Just because these had once been her people didn’t have to mean anything if she didn’t let it.
Let them stare ; she decided resolutely. No harm in Bellamy no doubt getting an early warning that she was coming if she decided to let these three go.
She tried not to acknowledge the fear radiating from the people who had clearly never seen a Maiden, huddled together. Biting her lip slightly, she realized it was an ironic thought. Just a moment before, they had been willing to destroy this property without hesitation. Now, the ones who had been brave enough to face a Commander herself cowered in fear.
“Griffin, stop it!” a voice called out sharply behind her. Clarke looked back over her shoulder to see Emori glaring at her. Of course, the only member of the team who would be willing to bluntly call her out like this.
“They’re blatantly disregarding the law, Lieutenant,” she snapped.
The other woman rolled her eyes and gestured to the recoiled people in front of them.
“We’ve got far more pressing issues in our lives than the random street rebels,” Emori said disdainfully, barely offering a second glance at them. “Just let them go so we can get to the palace on time.”
Clarke turned her gaze back to the people, considering her options. Word would get out either way that she and her women had arrived, whether these people were punished or not. But if they did not face any sort of consequence, she would be considered weak and their whole reason for being back in Polis would be thrown away, long before they arrived at the palace.
On the other hand, these people might have done something that the royals wouldn’t approve of, but Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to blame them. They knew who their king was marrying, they had every right to be bitter.
“Get out of here,” she said sharply to the three of them. “This is a warning, for if I see you doing something like this again, you’ll be punished severely.”
One of the men nodded to her, murmuring a quiet thank you, and led the woman away. Clarke saw the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and knew she had made the right decision, even if it came with repercussions.
The other man, smaller than the first with scruffy black hair and dark eyes that flitted between Clarke and her maidens, stayed a moment longer. She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth, but before she could repeat her order, Harper, her second, stepped in.
“I would get out before the Commander rethinks her offer,” the other blonde said firmly, her eyes locked on him. “She won’t be asking twice.”
He paused, and nodded once, and then he was gone just like that, disappearing into the trees.
Curious, Clarke steered her horse closer to the house to peer at whatever the crowd had been drawing on the door.
The paint was left unfinished, strewn out in cans across the front porch. Red stained the door, in an unfamiliar shape that resembled something like a “T”. She gazed at it for a moment, and slipped out a small journal from her satchel.
“We need to get going, Clarke,” Harper called, uncertainty lacing her voice. The rebels could be back at any minute.
But she was so inexplicably drawn to whatever they had left behind, and unconsciously, she opened the small book in her arms to an empty page and began to sketch the red “T” with a pen she had left tucked in between the pages.
It was a few long minutes before
She let out a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment before turning her horse back to the road. “We still have a long way to go, ladies,” she called over her shoulder as she flipped her horse’s reins, setting the stallion into an easy trot. Immediately, she heard the pounding of the other horses behind her.
They rode down the trail for another hour, only stopping for a brief moment for Emori and Niylah, who both rode towards the back, to check their horseshoes.
After two hours, the sound of another horse by Clarke’s side caught her attention after a while, and she glanced out of the corner of her eye to find Harper riding alongside her with a faraway look in her eyes.
“What is it, Delegate?” Clarke asked sharply, keeping her eyes trained on the distance where she knew any minute, the Eternal Fire on top of the Polis Tower would come into view. Her second snorted at the decisive tone, but didn’t comment on it.
“You made the right decision back at that house,” she said, a gentle reprimand that spoke to Clarke’s own insecurities about her decision. She forced herself not to react and for Harper to continue. The taller blonde offered her a sad smile. “It was the only choice.”
Clarke forced herself to laugh at that, feeling hollow inside. “There’s always a choice. I just made the one with consequences that are farther out in the future.”
Harper nodded, clearly considering her Commander’s words.
“The Clarke I met when I joined the Maidens would have taken all of those people captive and brought them in to be punished,” Harper hummed. “This you, you let your head do the talking. You of six years ago would be nothing if not proud of how far she’s come.”
She stayed silent, considering her second’s words for a long minute before Harper spoke again.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve been in Polis,” she said, changing the subject. Clarke was grateful for the shift, though not so much to the new conversation. “A lot has changed. You’ve changed.”
She heard the unspoken words there and bit back a snort of annoyance at the implications. Bellamy has changed.
“You can just come out and say it, Harper,” she said coolly. “Arkadia is a free country for one more month until Azgeda takes control.”
Harper gave a genuine laugh at that, the rare kind that always made Clarke’s heart softer and that she so rarely heard from any of her women anymore. It had been a long time since anything had happened between her and Harper, the two just old friends by now, but that didn’t take away from the affection they held for each other whatsoever.
“Nia always had a way with words, didn’t she,” Harper mused thoughtfully, rearing in her horse from getting sidetracked by a patch of grass. “Beyond me how she pulled together an entire ceremony for her daughter and King Bellamy from prison.”
Clarke’s grips on the reins tightened, and she forced herself to stay collected. All of the other women were more than aware of what had been between her and the new king, and were also aware that it would never be any of their concern. Her friend didn’t mean any harm, logically she knew that, but the painful reminder that the former love of her life wasn’t just with a new woman, but was marrying said woman, stung all the same.
“I very much doubt Her Highness has changed much,” Clarke said stiffly, her heart clenching at the memories of her childhood. “She was always too flighty for my taste as a child, couldn’t bear to be around her for long on the rare occasions we were together.”
Harper twisted in her saddle, giving her a mischievous grin. “You and King Bellamy must have been quite the duo back then though, no?”
Clarke rolled her eyes but before she could retort back that in fact, no, the two of them had despised each other at first glance and it took years to become friends let alone friends, but her friend’s face changed. The look on her face turned from teasing to filled with awe, staring off at something in the distance.
She twisted in her saddle to get a glimpse of what Harper was staring at, and her throat became dry immediately.
Barely visible over the treetops stood the tip of Polis Tower, looming over the countryside. Even from miles away, she could see the flickering form of the Eternal Fire lit as always, watching Polis from above.
Time to start the plan they had discussed.
With a deep sigh, she pulled back on her horse’s reins and turned to her women, nodding to Emori, Monroe, and one of the new additions to the team, Roma. “The three of you, go ride ahead and alert the royal family of our arrival. We’ll be right behind you and reunite at nightfall at the palace.”
The three of them nodded, reaching behind themselves to take out small brown bags from which they produced each of their cloaks which they slipped on. The hoods hid their faces almost completely, and Clarke nodded approvingly before glancing between each of the women.
“Remember our reason for being in the city,” she instructed. “We’re here for the sake of the alliance, to protect King Bellamy and the Queen.”
“You know the plans,” Clarke continued, turning in her seat slightly to nod to each of them. “If anything seems even vaguely out of the ordinary, report back to me immediately. Understood?” she checked. The other Maidens nodded, and she let out a relieved sigh.
“Should we be checking on Nia as well, when we get there?” Monroe checked, raising an eye.
Clarke nodded. “Emori and Monroe will scout and meet with the nobles, while you check up on the former queen.”
Emori herself cut in immediately in return as if attempting to speak over any possible interruptions. “Understood, Commander,” she replied, giving Clarke a polite nod before kicking her horse into moving, Roma and Monroe hot on her heels.
She watched the Maidens ride off into the distance. When she could no longer see them, she pulled out a different dagger from her pack, and Clarke could feel the gazes of the remaining women on her.
This one had a far more complicated appearance to it than the one Clarke had been flipping earlier, the hilt adorned with thin gold leaves and a sapphire right under the blade. She tested the weight, tossing it from hand-to-hand before motioning for Gaia to come over. The other woman bowed her head and got off her horse and made her way over.
“Do you know what this blade is?” Clarke asked her, never removing her gaze from the dagger in the palm of her hand. She slid the blunt side of the blade along the palm of her gloved hand, testing the sharpness, and Gaia shook her head.
“This knife belonged to the Prince’s father,” the blonde said, and the other women around her froze at both the callous title that the Commander used to refer to the new King with. Clarke gave a dry, humorless laugh at that. The one time they stopped asking questions about him was the one time she was ready to speak about him.
“I took it the day I left Polis six years ago,” she continued, raising her head to meet Gaia’s warm brown eyes. “It’s time I returned this to him.”
The smaller woman reached out a hand tentatively, and Clarke slipped her the knife. “Make sure this gets to him on arrival. It’s a House Blake heirloom.”
She could feel everyone’s piercing gaze on her at those words but ignored them. “And alert his sister, Princess Octavia, once it’s been placed in safe-keeping.”
Gaia gave her Commander a pointed look in place of words as she slid the knife into a pocket somewhere deep in her gray Maiden cloak. She got the meaning of it immediately and rolled her eyes as she clambered onto her horse again.
“Believe it or not, I’m not projecting my problems onto you,” Clarke tossed over her shoulder. “No matter what any of you think. I just have more pressing issues to deal with than an awkward reunion with the narcissistic boy I grew up with.”
There was a small part of her, but a part nevertheless, that felt ill calling him that. Clarke knew, better than anyone, that Bellamy had been far from a narcissist growing up. Not anymore though, this new Bellamy- this King Bellamy- was no longer hers. She had to be prepared for the hard truth: she wouldn’t know this new Bellamy when they met again.
And she definitely wasn’t lying about the second part, she tried to reassure herself. She had far bigger concerns than reuniting with Bellamy, the first of which was keeping him alive.
As she kicked her horse into a sprint, with the other women hot on her heels, a picture of the woman he was going to be marrying wormed its way into her brain and she gritted her teeth.
Princess Echo of Azgeda was a reasonably attractive woman, if Clarke remembered the correct woman. All of the royals had blended together over the years. She had never interacted much with the royals besides Bellamy and his parents; that was left more to her parents, the Court physician and the advisor to Bellamy’s father himself.
To her best of memory, the Ice Nation princess had never drawn much attention to herself, seeming to prefer to let her parents handle Bellamy’s parents during gatherings. She seemed to hide behind a curtain of flat, unassuming brown hair, and never deigned to play with Bellamy or his sister, Octavia.
Bellamy, meanwhile, had opted to get out of the meetings by faking being sick whenever possible, so that he and Octavia could play together. Once Clarke and the Blake siblings had warmed up to each other, the two of them let Clarke join in.
When he was forced by his guards to attend the royal meetings though, Octavia and Clarke would always slip behind a curtain and make faces at the boy while the adults spoke. Both girls knew how much of a bore the royal life was to him and any chance to make him smile back then, was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. A shame he had seemed to stop feeling the same after she left Polis, considering he hadn’t once attempted to reach out to her since she joined the Maidens.
Clarke knew that on some level, the miscommunication was partially her fault since she never tried reaching out, but it was easier to place the blame on him. Pretend that all those times that she had caught him staring, he had been staring at Echo across the room. Probably unhealthy, but she didn’t particularly care for that.
She had logically known she and Bellamy would never be able to reach where they had been, even before she found out he was engaged to the daughter of his father’s killer. Clarke just hadn’t expected it to hurt quite so much.
That’s how it was when you up and left for six years after a fight, and became one of the most famous warriors of all time, Clarke guessed.
She kicked her horse into a quick sprint, and she and the other Maidens pounded down the road. From her best guess, they’d be in the Capital within the hour, these were the last few minutes of freedom she had.
Clarke managed to preoccupy her mind with trying to think of a time she had ever seen the red “T”, now etched into her precious journal. As if calling out to her, the book seemed to be burning through the leather of her satchel, and she longed to pull it out and lose herself in the drawing again. It took loads of self-restraint, but she managed not to.
The symbol itself was unfamiliar, she decided, but it must be some sort of part of the rebellion against Queen Echo and King Bellamy’s marriage. A sign to communicate between rebels that others had been there.
Worrying about her other problems helped calm her mind a bit, but by the time they arrived at the gates of Polis, the nerves she had almost managed to tamper down the whole ride had started popping back up.
She took a few deep breaths before riding up to the two guards, standing watch.
“We’re here with the Maidens of Shield,” Clarke said stiffly. “His Highness invited us early as his and the Queen’s security.”
The blonde man closest to her narrowed his eyes, taken by surprise at the interruption to what was probably a peaceful evening beforehand, not that Clarke particularly cared. “Weren’t you guys just here a bit ago?”
She rolled her eyes, having expected this. The guards hadn’t been much good when she left, and some things never changed. “I see. If there’s one thing His Highness hasn’t done yet, it’s hiring competent guards. I sent in a team of my women who arrived roughly a half hour ago, did they make it into the city or not?”
Another man spoke before the first could respond, his voice lined with amusement. “And who are you supposed to be, doll?”
Before anyone could blink, Clarke had him pinned against the stone wall, her dagger pressed to his throat. She leaned in, pressing the sharp edge into his jugular hard enough to draw a drop of blood, which trickled down his neck and stained his black uniform.
He went limp under her at the feeling, and she could practically smell the fear radiating off his shaking body in waves.
“You’ll call me by my name, Clarke Griffin, or you won’t speak again,” she snarled, digging a little deeper when she felt him freeze under her at that. “You recognize that?”
“Wanheda…”
She looked up sharply at the use of her native Maiden title to find the first man staring at her, shock written all over his face. A smirk twisted her face and she raised an eye.
“You two recognize me?” she asked, her voice purposely teasing as she made her way around to the man’s back, keeping the knife to his throat the whole time. The blonde nodded, visibly gulping at the realization that he stood in the presence of the Commander, and Clarke twirled the knife in her palm, letting it slide ever so slightly over the neck of the man in her grasp.
She stared at the man on the other side of the path before for a moment before tilting her head and offering him a predatory smirk. “So the guards are speaking Trig now.”
Silence.
“What are your names?” she questioned him, now surrounded by her women. He glanced around, realizing his predicament, and swallowed.
“Kyle Wick,” he said, meeting her eyes. “And the man you’re holding at the moment is Ryker.”
Clarke nodded, considering the two for a beat. When she decided them to be harmless, she removed her blade from Ryker’s neck and pushed him towards Wick. He caught Ryker’s hand and pulled him close. The two men glared at Clarke, who simply gave them a prim look.
“Did my Maidens make it into the city earlier?” she repeated, sheathing the dagger and tilting her head. “I’ve had a long ride and would prefer not to ask a third time.”
Ryker nodded first, probably trying to make up for the disrespect he had paid her minutes before. “We let them in when they said they were early guests for His Majesty’s coronation. Three of them, right?”
Not bothering to give an answer, she walked back to her horse and clambered on, when a thought hit her. She could tell Harper had noticed her eyes light up, but her second said nothing, just watched with a vague hint of amusement.
“I assume the King knows that we’re here by now,” Clarke said, slowly turning. A smirk formed as she noticed more guards slowly moved towards them, their attention caught by the drama. “But just in case, Wick, take someone from your squad besides Ryker, and go ring the Festival Bell.”
The young man stared at her, clearly in just as much surprise as everyone else around her. “But it’s only rung on holidays,” he protested weakly. “The King will have my head if I do this.”
She raised an eye at that and raised her arms in a bold gesture, feeling the nerves from earlier slip away, leaving only a rush of adrenaline in its place. “What, Clarke Griffin returning after six years isn’t enough of a reason to celebrate? Even your king can’t be that much of a nunce.”
Wick, Ryker, and the other guards stared at her, unmoving for a moment before she impatentialy gestured at the blonde boy again. “Go on. I’ll handle your king myself.”
He darted off, clearly afraid. Clarke tilted her head at Harper, giving her a smirk.
“Don’t you love when men listen?” she questioned. Her second grinned and gave her a shrug.
“Doesn’t happen nearly enough for me to properly enjoy it,” the other blonde replied, offering a little wave to the guards. “But I think this is the perfect time for it, don’t you?”
Clarke nodded, adrenaline surging through her as she led her horse past the onlookers and through the gate, with the other women right behind her. As she passed through the entrance, a rush of energy surging through her at the sight of the word Polis scrawled into a familiar wooden plank above. She was finally home.
The Maidens rode through the town, and Clarke relished in the stares and whispers of the village locals around them. Even though she had never stayed much in the area at the edge of Polis, always staying close to the castle, she knew these people knew exactly who she was.
Murmurs of Wanheda and Clarke kom Skaikru passed through the growing crowd, and she offered the other Maidens behind her a knowing grin, and Niylah and Harper gave her a dry look.
The poorest district of Polis wasn’t very large, so it only took them a few minutes to leave, and enter the middle class district. In the distance, above the roofs of the houses, stood the Tower.
Looking up at it, she remembered how she would try to climb the side of Tower itself, making it less than a flight as she tried to clamber up the side of a pole. Bellamy would tease her for not making it very far, and she would slap him on the arm, causing him to laugh more.
Even back then, Clarke had loved his laugh, even if it was the last thing she would ever admit.
Meanwhile, Octavia had watched from the sidelines, and looking back, Clarke knew that the young Princess had known, even then. Even when the Blakes went through suitors upon suitors, Clarke knew that the other girl had seen how she and her brother interacted. Her eyes had always sparkled secretively when Clarke and her brother had argued, and Octavia had always teased her afterwards.
The two girls had become friends long before Bellamy and Clarke had, both outcasts in the palace in their respective ways. While Clarke never quite fit in, as one of the few children allowed on palace grounds who wasn’t a royal, Octavia hadn’t been the king’s daughter by blood. The other children had always poked fun at the little brunette, until one day where Clarke found the Blake siblings training in an abandoned courtyard at the edge of the palace.
Bellamy had his half-sister pinned underneath him, and she could still remember how blood dripped from both of the siblings’ lips as they fought. It was the first time Clarke had ever seen a woman fight, let alone a girl her age, and she’d become enamored immediately.
But that’s one thing that the Blakes had in common, she guessed bitterly. Two gorgeous souls that hid enough anger to level a city, all hidden behind their perfect royal masks and only showing on the rare occasions they let it out.
The sound of the bell rang out in the distance, effectively jarring her out of her thoughts. Around the group, citizens of the middle class district began to look up and catch sight of the Maidens.
She had to remind herself to breathe, caught by the reminder that she had grown up around many of these people. Even if it had been years, and she no longer recognized them, people she knew were probably in the gathering crowds.
“Looking for anyone in particular?” Gaia questioned softly from next to her. Clarke turned, raising an eye.
“The only people I vaguely care about in Polis are around me right now, and inside the palace,” the blonde replied. “You know me, Gaia.”
The smaller woman sighed, gazing at the tower that grew closer by the minute. “You grew up in this district, didn’t you?”
Clarke stared at her, caught off guard by the knowledge that she had never shared that fact with the other Maidens, but Gaia just gave her a secretive smile. “You, Clarke Griffin, aren’t nearly as much of a closed book as you like to think you are.”
“Have you even ever been in the capital city?” Clarke asked curiously, steering her horse closer to the other woman’s to avoid a small child in the road. “I thought you didn’t know these parts of Arkadia well.”
Gaia’s family had been part of a neighboring warrior tribe, Trikru, in the north that the Maidens had saved, years before Clarke had ever even heard of them. Since the near-destruction of her town, she rarely left her village except for missions, even if it had managed to rebuild itself with the help of the Maidens.
“I don’t,” she replied, a forced levity in her tone that only someone who knew her like Clarke did could pick up. “This is my first time here, and I have to say, for my first time here, I’m not completely sold that this is really Arkadia’s capital.”
Clarke laughed in surprise at that. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just so… cramped here,” she replied, gesturing around them. Clarke had to admit that they weren’t riding through the best part of the middle district at the moment.
“Trikru’s capital was much smaller than this,” Gaia admitted, glaring judgingly at the large stone houses that they passed. “But I’ve never felt so confined in my life as I am right now.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll only be here for a month or two,” Clarke responded, effectively cutting off the conversation as she caught sight of a trio of riders making their way through the crowd towards her and the other women, the horses forcing all pedestrians out of their way. She looked back over her shoulder, raising an arm to halt the others, before turning to face the large men pushing towards them.
“We’ve got company,” she said coolly, letting her hand slip into her cloak to trace her fingers over her dagger.
The man at the front wore a nasty smirk, lips curving up in a way that clearly meant trouble, as he rode up to face Clarke.
“Clarke Griffin, I presume,” he said, and even his voice made her uncomfortable. She refused to let any sign of discomfort show through her neutral facade though, and replied in an even tone.
“I assume you’re the new King’s security force who we’re replacing?” she asked, testing how far she could push this man’s buttons. Clearly, the jab didn’t land as hoped though, since he simply nodded and pulled out a parchment.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Octavia of Polis, has requested to be your guide as you enter the palace,” he read off, sounding beyond bored by the notion. Clarke on the other hand could literally feel her heart skip a beat at his words. Octavia.
She steeled herself, trying not to let any emotion show. For God’s sake, part of these men’s jobs were probably to test how she would react, if she knew the princess half as well as she did.
“And where is her Highness?” she asked, bracing herself.
“The Princess is waiting for you at the entrance to the upper level,” he replied, already turning away. “Best not keep her waiting, Miss Griffin.”
Clarke sneered at the use of the incorrect title, only barely restraining herself from flinging her dagger at his head, and forced herself to give him a polite nod. “Thank you for the notice, sir.”
She blinked, and he and the other riders had disappeared into the crowd again.
“Are you alright?” Harper asked softly from behind her, and Clarke waved her away, nodding shakily. The mention of Octavia’s name had brought back a flood of more unwanted memories, and she flinched away when Harper tried to reach out to comfort her.
“We need to get going,” she said firmly, cutting the other blonde off before she could speak. “Keeping the Princess waiting would be a mistake.”
Tugging at her stallion’s reins, she continued down the road. She felt the piercing gaze of Harper on her back, as well as the confused and blatantly obvious staring of the crowds around them, but she pointedly ignored it.
It was another fifteen or so minutes before the Maidens pushed through the upper part of the middle district, and the gate to the upper part of Polis came into sight. The nerves that Clarke had worked so hard to push away started choking her up again, and tears started rising, unbidden.
“You know, we can turn away now, Commander,” Niylah’s soft voice said from next to her. Clarke glanced over, then turned away and swiped at the tears angrily.
“No, we can’t,” she snapped.
Niylah didn’t reply, but Clarke immediately felt awful for snapping. “I’m sorry, Niylah,” she said softly. “You didn’t deserve that.”
The other woman gave her a kind smile. “It’s alright. I understand, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be going through this right now.”
Clarke snorted, unsure how to respond, and Niylah leaned over from her horse to comfortingly rub her shoulder. It was at that moment she caught sight of an eerily-familiar looking brunette, standing under the gateway.
Octavia.
The years had been kind on the other woman, as far she could tell from blocks away. A sword was strapped on her back, she wore a dark gray jumpsuit with matching black boots, and her dark brown hair that had almost become black over the years was done in a neat braid that hung over her shoulder.
Princess Octavia Blake, as ever much a rule breaker as she remembered her to be. She wondered how Bellamy had taken to the notion of a warrior princess, and despite herself, Clarke smiled at the thought. She was sure the look on his face had been one of pride, when he saw the fierce warrior his younger sister had become.
Octavia turned, and she could tell when the Princess caught sight of her. The brunette’s face, if possible, tightened further, and Clarke watched with growing nervousness as the other woman pulled the hood over her head and weaved through the crowd, face impossible to read from this far away.
Clarke raised her hand as a sign for the other Maidens to keep moving, pulse thrumming in her veins as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just her and the approaching Princess facing each other.
“Your Highness,” she said, steeling herself for humiliation if the younger woman didn’t acknowledge her.
“Commander,” Octavia acknowledged, and looking into her eyes, Clarke found no spark of recognition or warmth. So it was as she expected. The Blakes were furious with her for leaving.
“I assume you’re here to lead us to the Tower?” she asked, voice oddly hesitant.
The lithe brunette gave a sharp nod, giving no sign that she knew Clarke, and she could feel the curious stares of Harper and the others on her back, burning her.
“You can leave your horses by the gate,” the princess said, her voice oddly monotone. Clarke had known the other girl would be cold, but she had expected her to sound so… dead when it came to talking between them.
The other girls, Harper and Niylah attempted to start conversations with Octavia as they tied the horses up, and wove through the crowds that were beginning to form, but the raven-haired princess stayed silent. When she did speak, it was in terse phrases, only a couple words at a time.
Clarke noticed Gaia giving Octavia a sympathetic smile, the two women taking the lead. She didn’t quite understand why the brunette was being so cold, but it was probably more due to the fact that she had up and left for the last six years. No way Bellamy had told her about their fight, that last night. He wouldn’t…
Would he?
She remembered the storm outside, more than the fight itself. The dark gray clouds that should have been a sign as the day went on. The crease between Bellamy’s brow as she’d turned away from him one last time, and his burning glare on her back as she packed her things and rode away, a hood covering her head to hide her from the pouring rain.
Or at least that’s what she had told herself.
Clarke had tried to stay in contact with the siblings for as long as she could, but Octavia had stopped responding over time, and Bellamy… well, he’d never even bothered trying.
She hadn’t wanted to fall out with O at least, but it ended up seeming like if she couldn’t have one Blake, she couldn’t have either. But what Clarke hadn’t expected was to deal with Bellamy telling Octavia about their fight.
Two years after the Maidens had taken her in, and long before she had taken the name Wanheda, Clarke had tried sneaking out of the military base they had her working in, with plans of returning to Polis. Even if it was just for a few minutes, she missed her parents, who she hadn’t seen since her final day in Polis. She missed Bellamy.
But Harper had stopped her, caught her before she could reach the main gate, and sat her down to talk by the campfire. She was the first real friend Clarke had made in the Maidens of Shield, the only one she really knew, and who she had trusted to tell about her real history with Bellamy.
The others knew the vague story, she thought with a half smile. But Harper? She knew everything there was to know about Bellamy Blake, because Clarke knew everything there was to know about Bellamy.
Suddenly, Octavia glanced back at her and smirked. Clarke was jolted out of her thoughts, taken by surprise, and her lip curled downward. What was her former friend doing?
But the princess seemed to want to keep her on her toes. She didn’t try anything the entire trip, just led the way as she stuck to the shadows, talking softly with Gaia on occasion.
As they got closer, a thought occurred to her, and she froze.
“What’s wrong, Commander?” Niylah hissed, stopping next to her. The others paused at the interruption, and Octavia’s brow rose.
“Your Highness,” Clarke said stiffly, meeting the brunette’s gaze and finding a small hint of humor in her eyes. “Why are we sneaking into the palace? And where the hell are my other Maidens?’
Something in Octavia’s gaze twisted darkly, but Clarke refused to look away.
“The other group of your Maidens are waiting for us outside the Tower,” she said finally, her voice tainted with bitterness. “And as for the sneaking, as you so elegantly put it, it’s an extra precaution. People in the city aren’t happy with the amount of control Azgeda’s had here since the king died, and Echo marrying in doesn’t do wonders for crowd moral.”
Taking all of the information in, Clarke nodded to herself. She refused to let herself linger on the tidbit of information that Polis’ people seemed to hate Echo just as much as her. If she did, Clarke knew she’d let herself think about it too hard, and there were more pressing concerns at hand at the moment.
Echo and Bellamy’s lives for example.
“We didn’t see much resistance in the lower and middle sectors,” she started, not knowing quite what to make of everything. “If anything, the people seemed to be in line.”
Octavia snorted at that and bared her teeth in a feral-looking grin. “So I’m assuming you didn’t see the armed guards my brother’s been hiring since his father died.”
Clarke’s head jolted up and she raised an eye in surprise at that. “That doesn’t sound like the Bellamy I know,” she said, hesitant and unsure. The other girl barked a laugh at that and a tremor of fear ran down Clarke’s spine.
“Bellamy’s not the man you used to know,” the brunette said, her lip curling meanly into a smirk. “Six years is a long time, Clarke, and while you’ve been off playing dress-up with these women, and pretending to be better than the rest of us, he and I have had to run this kingdom ourselves. With absolutely no help from you, may I add.”
Her former friend’s words left Clarke reeling, but one thing stuck clear in her mind.
“I was never playing dress-up, Octavia,” she snarled, hand already moving to her knife. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other Maidens reaching out to stop her, but she pushed them away. “Everything I did was to help our people.”
“ Our people?” Octavia cried out. The two women were practically head-to-head now, and Clarke was seething, barely managing to restrain herself from taking her blade out.
“They haven’t been your people in a long fucking time, Clarke Griffin,” she rasped, and with a single movement, Clarke felt the cold, familiar feeling of a blade to her throat. But the adrenaline in her veins had her vision blurring from all the anger that flooded over her.
“Maybe not,” she agreed easily. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love them like my own.”
Octavia snorted, and the feeling of her knife vanished. “The only people you’ve ever loved are yourself and your Maidens.”
Harper barely managed to restrain Clarke for that last comment, and the princess smirked, self-confident.
“It’s time to get going,” she said, offering the Maidens a clearly fake smile. “Don’t want to keep my brother and the new queen waiting, do we?’
The last stretch of streets to the palace allowed Clarke a better look into the city she had once known. Crowds that had formed earlier, that she thought were there for her and the others, turned out to be groups of what looked to be rebels.
A sudden thought occurred to her as she studied those who had lined up in the streets. Those people by the farmhouse, earlier in the day. Had they been part of this same protest?
Gaia caught her gaze from ahead, and gave her a small, supportive smile.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” Harper asked quietly from next to her, and Clarke startled a bit. Not many people could sneak up on her like that.
“Do you see any of the red “T’s” like the one on that farmhouse?” she questioned in response. Harper shook her head.
“If I do, I’ll tell you immediately.”
Finally, Clarke caught sight of a familiar face in the crowds, as they left the city streets behind and reached out the gates surrounding the palace. A familiar tuft of brown hair, a dark cloak that stood out in the bright greens and soft blues of the Polis nobles that were stationed on the gate.
Emori.
It was like a weight was lifted off her chest, as she noticed Monroe and Roma standing next to her. All three Maidens looked bored out of their minds, and she couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight.
Octavia silently raised an eye.
“The other part of our group is here,” she said, and couldn’t resist a little dig. “My people are waiting for me.”
Clarke could practically feel Octavia’s snarl on her back, and for some reason, it only raised her mood, as she slipped through the crowd and snuck up behind the Maidens.
Emori’s fond gaze was already on her when she popped up in front of them, and Clarke laughed. Of course the ex-thief turned Maiden of Shield would have seen her coming a mile away.
“I see you girls are having a hard time getting in,” Clarke said, leaning onto the padlocked fencing and offering them an impish grin. “Need any help?”
The three of them booed her teasing, even as they took turns giving her a hug. She felt the presence of the rest of the team, and turned to them, smiling widely.
“I assume you’ve already met Princess Octavia Blake,” she said to Emori lightly.
The other woman smirked, and pulled down her hood to see the princess better. “The girls and I ran into her earlier, when we arrived in the city. Some warm welcome we got.”
Octavia snarled, and Clarke simply gave her a mocking smirk. “Problem, Princess? ”
Before her Highness could retort with a biting comment though, the familiar sound of drums rang in the air. Around them, everyone froze, and all eyes turned toward the Tower, where the highest ranking nobles began to make their way out onto the garden.
Clarke couldn’t help but survey each one as they passed, taking their places in the garden, She memorized each of their faces and tried to recognize any. These were people she’d grown up around, thanks to her family’s connection to the Blake family, but she didn’t see any familiar faces in the growing circle.
When they finished gathering in a semicircle, Clarke bit her lip, realizing what was about to happen. The other Maidens turned to her, confused and unused to Polis’ customs, but she shook her head. They’d see in a second.
A small man, barely coming up to her shoulders, hurried forward and unrolled an ancient-looking scroll. Clarke winced at the sight, knowing exactly what was coming, and felt the familiar weight of a hand in her own.
She looked over to see Harper offering her a supportive smile before turning back to view the proceedings. Her friend might not know what was coming, but she appreciated the support.
“Today we honor their Majesties, Prince Bellamy and Princess Echo of Ice Nation,” the man said in a low voice. On closer inspection of him, she recognized him to be Luca, a young priest who Bellamy had taken a liking to years ago. It seemed the Prince had new plans for him though, priests were never the ones who introduced the royal family.
Before she could think too hard about it, the doors at the top of the stairs opened and despite herself, Clarke’s jaw dropped.
Echo and Bellamy.
She had known it was coming, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did to see her former love walking hand-in-hand with the Azgeda princess. It didn’t even seem like the two were that close, they stood about an arm’s length apart and barely exchanged a glance.
Yet seeing Echo standing next to him had something mean curling in Clarke’s chest, a side to her that she had thought long gone.
The princess in question wore the common colors of her tribe, a light blue dress with a dark blue cloak wrapped around her despite the heat, and her long brown hair that Clarke had always found boring and bland when they were children done in a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. But she barely paid a bit of attention to the woman, her focus was solely set on Bellamy next to her.
Bellamy . Bellamy. Bellamy.
It was like a magnet drew her eyes to him, no matter how much she resisted.
He looked fucking ethereal , even though Clarke would rather die than admit it, and her heart twinged with want despite her self-warnings to control herself. Whoever had dressed him had known what his colors were for sure.
Bellamy wore a dark blue cape with gold lining that matched Echo’s cloak, she noted with an air of distaste, but it was definitely a look he pulled off, and he wore a matching belt with the familiar Blake family crest, a golden lion, engraved in the center.
What caught her most by surprise, what made her jaw clench at the very sight of, was his beard. His fucking beard.
Of course, she’d expected that he’d look different. One always did after six years.
But Bellamy had always refused to grow out a beard. She’d joked about it one time, commenting on how the beard would feel during sex, and while he had looked thoughtful at the idea, he’d turned it down. Said something about how shaved felt better for himself, and they left it at that.
Clarke couldn’t help smirking at the idea that he grew it out after she left, missing her in the process. It was a nice thought. Unlikely, but nice.
And it wasn’t a bad look on him, she was even willing to go as far as to admit it. Not quite his shaved look, but it had something clenching in her stomach that she definitely wasn’t ready to address right now.
It really did seem like there was a magnet drawing her to him right now, and it went beyond the fact that he looked so damn good . She’d missed him, more than she would ever say out loud, and the fact that it was Echo walking down the path next to him made it hurt more.
If Bellamy saw her as he and his soon-to-be wife made their rounds, greeting each and every member of the nobles gathered in and outside the gate, it didn’t show. Clarke could feel herself feeding off his energy, to her disgust.
God, she’d promised herself this exact situation wouldn’t happen but yet here she was, standing like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pathetic.
“Is that Bellamy?” Emori hissed, peering over Clarke’s shoulder to get a better view of what was happening. “I know that’s Echo, and I think that’s Princess Raven over there.”
Clarke followed her gaze to a familiar-looking woman standing at the edge of the circle, dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked to be the only one of the nobles not wearing an elegant outfit, and she got the impression that this princess seemed to despise being there.
“How do you know her?” she whispered, and Emori arched a brow, grinning like a feline.
“She’s Echo’s adopted sister,” is all the other woman said in response. Clarke gave a tired sigh, smiling despite herself.
“In one month from today, on the solstice,” Luca called out again, catching everyone’s attention again. “Azgeda and Polis will be joined together in a marriage that will seal a pact of peace between the two clans, and the prince and the princess will rise to the throne of Skaikru.”
Clarke swore her heart stopped beating at that exact moment. What was Bellamy doing?
Skaikru was a word she and Bellamy had created as teenagers while drunk one night, once they’d moved past their stupid rivalry and become friends. Its literal meaning was “Sky People”, and she’d told Bellamy in their buzzed state reminded her of heaven. Once upon a time she’d thought for sure that they would end up there one day together.
How stupid she’d been. The only place she was going was hell.
“He looks good,” Emori said, elbowing her teasingly. Clarke couldn’t even make herself respond, too caught by the sight of Bellamy pausing to reach back and grab Echo’s hand with a warm smile directed towards her.
This day just kept getting worse and worse, didn’t it?
She watched, rooted in place as Bellamy swept Echo into his arms and pulled her close. The two waved to the crowd, and Clarke felt ill at the sight.
But it was when he pulled her in for a kiss, long and with both clearly enjoying it, even if it was for show, that she snapped.
Octavia’s hand pressed onto her shoulder, and Clarke froze. A cold feeling swept over her as the brunette leaned in close to her ear.
“You can see how little he needs you now,” the princess teased, voice a mixture of bitterness and teasing. “You’re a disease, Clarke, and he’s cured now. That’s why you’re here.”
She whipped around at that, staring into the other woman’s eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean, Octavia?” she snarled, face-to-face now. None of the other Maidens, not even Harper, had seen what was going on yet, too caught up in Bellamy and Echo to notice.
“I invited you here, Clarke,” she said, eyes dancing in mirth and anger. “I’m the reason you’re here, and you’re going to witness Bellamy happy, every day for as long as I say. And he’s going to be happy without you.”