Chapter Text
The air was blowing in her face like tiny, freezing knives biting at her exposed cheeks and nose. Clarke’s flimsy jacket did nothing to protect her from the cold element and one of her Grounder guards gave her an uncharacteristic sympathetic look.
Great, so she did look as miserable as she felt.
Damn, it had been so much easier up on the Ark – constant temperatures, no risk of getting sunburn, no freezing temperatures at night or hellish rainstorms, no acid fog (even though the acid fog was no more). And with what was supposed to be Earth’s winter season getting closer, they were experiencing a drastic drop in the temperatures and white frost in the mornings.
As such, Clarke was unusually grateful when they neared the borders of the Ark station and the gate opened in front of her, letting her and one of the Grounder guards to pass. She had the courtesy to turn around and thank the rest even if they didn’t seem to care much about her. Clarke still wasn’t sure if their indifference was a good or a bad thing.
While the Grounders and Arkers alike had defeated the Mountain Men, and had brought justice to their doorstep for their abducted and abused people, the temporary peace between the two factions was just that – temporary. It was more stable than the one Clarke and Wells had managed to conclude with Anya few weeks ago, but the Commander – Octavia – was a wild card and Clarke had a hard time getting a read on her. It helped them somehow that they had managed to save in time her brother from the hands of the Mountain Men (not that he wasn’t doing a splendid job getting himself free); now, Octavia seemed more inclined to forge a long lasting peace treaty with them.
Especially considering her latest offer. And it was an offer Clarke couldn’t slither her way out of or try to negotiate. Of course, she could always decline, but in a sense Octavia was offering her the highest possible honor Clarke could receive as an outsider and that was marriage to a Grounder and not just any Grounder, no, it was a marriage to Octavia’s second-in-command – her brother. The same brother that – from Monty and Miller’s stories – was like a hellhound unleashed and one of the best warriors the Grounders possessed (she was afraid to ask how had they learned that).
It was a lot to take in and she had less than twenty-four hours to think it over. Indra, her Grounder guard for today, was with her for this exact purpose – to make sure that Clarke really was thinking about it and to remind her that refusing wouldn’t be a smart choice to make.
It would be a foolish move to refuse, Clarke knew, especially with the way Octavia’s eyes had narrowed when she had found out that her mother – Abby – and Kane planned on establishing peace with the survivors in Mount Weather (who weren’t many once the Grounders were done with them) and wanted to find a way to make it possible for them to live on the ground. They were walking on thin ice here, and Clarke wasn’t sure her mother realized that.
Abby was so set on seeing her daughter as a kid that she forgot the many things Clarke had lived through to survive; it didn’t help that the Grounders refused to accept any other authority that wasn’t Clarke, even when they learned that Kane was the Chancellor and technically he was the one speaking on behalf of the Ark people. Still, bless Kane for being the more level headed out of the two - he readily cooperated with Clarke when it came to Grounder matters.
With Wells and Raven standing firmly behind her back, combined with Murphy’s sarcastic, but spot on jabs and Miller and Monty’s unwavering faith that Clarke could handle this, and the times she couldn’t – they were there to help – her mother could clench her teeth with displeasure as many times as she wanted; nothing was going to change.
Indra’s suspicious gaze didn’t waver even when they entered the Ark station; if it was possible she grew even tenser. They might not be at war with each other, but Indra was one of the most skeptical people Clarke knew, and she was somewhat friends with one John Murphy. Over the past few days Clarke had been almost exclusively amongst Grounders and the sound of Indra’s sword hitting her bone chest plate was almost soothing and it helped remind her that she had nowhere to hurry for, worry for, Mount Weather had been defeated and while their future was still uncertain, for now she could rest and enjoy the peace.
As she suspected, once she entered her private quarters, Wells had his arms around her, engulfing her in his embrace and nearly lifting her off the ground.
Clarke laughed and wrapped her arms around his back, squeezing just as tightly. They hadn’t seen each other since the final battle because Wells had taken a bullet meant for Clarke when one of the Mountain Men guards had tried to assassinate her. Thankfully, it hadn’t been fatal even if he would have to use a cane for a while – bullets to the abdomen were tricky like that.
“And the prodigal son returns. Or should I say daughter?”
Wells let her go and she smiled; behind him, leaning against one of the walls, Murphy was using a knife to clean the dirt from beneath his fingers.
“It’s good to see you too, Murphy, did you miss me?”
He rolled his eyes, but Wells interrupted his no doubt nasty remark and said “I did.”
“Of course he did. Lover boy here was moping when I got back, greedy for any news concerning your persona.” Murphy had been part of Clarke’s team that had entered Mount Weather but he got back to the Ark station a day before Clarke, leading the injured parties to receive the kind of medical treatment that the Grounders couldn’t provide.
Wells glared at that and reached for his cane, shaking it warningly at Murphy, who bared his teeth and sheathed his knife.
Indra cleared her throat and Clarke nearly jumped – she had completely forgotten that the Grounder was standing behind her.
Murphy tensed at this – he never liked the Grounders courtesy of nearly getting killed by one – and Wells caught Clarke’s elbow and led her to one of the chairs.
“Is something wrong?” He looked at Indra, and then to Clarke.
“Octavia – the Commander that is – made me an offer.”
Wells fingers locked around his cane with such strength that his knuckles went white and he opted to sit on the other chair, leaving Murphy to stand over them, which Wells wasn’t happy about; then again, Clarke was pretty sure that those two would never see eye to eye unless, weirdly enough, it concerned her safety in some way.
“Well?” Murphy was never one for patience.
Clarke sighed and eased back in her chair trying to find a comfortable position, but the metal provided no such luxury for her sore muscles. Postponing the conversation was a waste of time and if she tried, Clarke was pretty sure Murphy was going to take out his knife again.
“I am to wed one of the Grounders.”
“You’re to be courted,” Indra corrected her before Wells and Murphy could process the meaning of Clarke’s words.
“Come again?” Murphy’s voice had gone cold and vicious and his eyes were spitting poison towards Indra, who put her hand on her sword.
“Murphy.” Wells looked at him but he had tensed just as much as Murphy had, if not more. “What does that mean?”
Clarke waved one tired hand at Indra, and the Grounder was kind enough to explain; Clarke hadn’t really understood it the first time Octavia had suggested it anyway.
“The Commander offered Clarke of the Sky People a way we could join our people together, permanently.” By her tone, it was obvious to Clarke just how much Indra was against this. “Clarke is to enter a courtship with the Commander’s own brother – Bellamy – and if the courtship is successful, they’re to join spirits under the moon with the Commander’s blessing.”
Murphy and Wells turned to her for clarification, but Clarke could only shrug helplessly. Octavia had also used the word courtship, and rituals and something about gifts and Clarke proving herself worthy, but the bottom line was clear – marriage Grounders’ style.
Murphy laughed. “Our princess finally found a prince, lover boy.” It was mean and mocking, yet, Clarke cherished the familiarity of it, despite the fact that she glared at him. Now was not the time for him to act like an asshole.
“You’re thinking of accepting.” Wells always saw right through her.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Her smile was more a quirk of her lips than a smile.
Wells licked his lips and his leg bounced up and down while he thought it over. Clarke knew what conclusion he would come to – the same as hers – declining would lose them Octavia’s patronage and the other Grounders wouldn’t take the insult lightly, while accepting solidified their peace treaty and guaranteed their safety for as long as Octavia stayed the Commander. It was a good bargain, if Clarke could call it that, and the price wasn’t that high. Wells’ look disagreed with that thought – he always wanted the best for her and seeing her trapped in a marriage with a Grounder was not his definition of a happy Clarke – but he nodded nonetheless, face scrunched with reluctance.
Murphy huffed; unhappy with the situation, his only comment was “Do we get to see you in a dress?”
Clarke flipped him her middle finger and with that the tense atmosphere eased, and Indra dropped her hand from her sword.
There was begrudging respect in her eyes, but Clarke wasn’t sure if that was due to her decision to accept or because of the way she mediated Wells and Murphy’s clashes.
That out of the way, Clarke steered the conversation to a more concerning topic.
“How are the others?” It had barely been two days since they had managed to rescue the abducted group of delinquents from Mount Weather.
Some hadn’t survived – like Harper – and others were recovering – Monty was in pretty bad condition, and Miller wasn’t faring any better.
“We’re losing him.”
Clarke closed her eyes and let Wells words register. Finn, idealistic bright Finn, who always tried too hard, was on his death bed because he had rushed headfirst into Mount Weather to try and save their friends after a heated argument with Raven. A foolish move because he had gotten caught, but not before he had managed to disable the acid fog and thus making way for Octavia’s Grounder army and Clarke’s armed volunteers to siege the bunker and win the war. By the time they had found him, along with the other delinquents, it had been too late. The doctor had done something to him more awful than bone marrow extraction and while her mother and Jackson were trying their best to reverse it, so far they had no luck.
Raven had been struck with rage, so strong and blinding that she had wrestled Murphy’s gun off his hands and had put a bullet between the doctor’s eyes. It didn’t help Finn, but nobody tried to stop her either (those who could – Abby, Kane – were miraculously absent from the scene). Miller had even patted her on the back and Monty had nodded when the news reached him; he still blamed himself for Harper.
Nyko, one of the Grounders’ healers, had offered her a small glass jar. Clarke knew what was in it and she planned on giving it to Raven. Finn was Raven’s whole world, and the choice to end his suffering or believe in his survival was hers to make.
“My mother?”
Wells shook his head. “Whatever that doctor did to him makes it so all his systems shut down one by one.”
Murphy suddenly smirked gleefully. “Now there’s a thought – who’s going to tell mommy that her dear daughter is getting married?”
Clarke groaned and got to her feet. “I can’t. I have to get back at Octavia about my decision.”
Wells gaped at that and also stood. “No, Clarke, no. She hates me as it is!”
She mentally winced – she might have the habit of letting Wells deliver the bad news to her mother (in her defence her relationship with Abby was just getting worse with every conversation they had) – and mentally thanked Indra when she opted not to comment; the Commander had, after all, given her twenty-four hours.
“Lies, she thinks you’re the only sane one amongst us.” And sometimes, between Murphy’s darker ways to achieve their aims and Clarke’s near reckless risks, Wells really was the crowd control, and the only one rational enough to stop their more dangerous endeavors.
It was strange how the three of them came to lead and balance each other (and Murphy and Wells could barely be civil to one another without Clarke being in the room). But it worked, it worked really well.
She left Wells shouting harmless threats behind her and took the turn for the medical bay; might as well see how Finn was doing with her own eyes.
Murphy jogged up to catch with her and Indra was not far behind. He emitted hostility, but for once refrained from baiting the Grounder (he had a nasty habit of doing that; he never got over the two arrows to his arm or the sword that nearly took his head off).
“Are you sure?” Clarke sparred him a glance – he looked completely serious.
“I’m willing to give it – him – a try. It’s the least I can do.”
He wasn’t so convinced. “Do you even know what he looks like? From the rumors I’ve heard he smiles like a beast that’s about to jump you and tear you apart.”
Clarke rolled her eyes, but inched closer to him; she appreciated the fact that he cared, even if he showed it in his twisted fucked up way.
“At least he smiles.”
Murphy’s smile was sharp and showed too many teeth. “One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”
“I guess I’ll have to look beneath the smile then.” Like I looked beneath your biting words and violent nature.
“A Grounder.”
She smiled at that. “Wait until you fall for a Grounder girl.”
He made a face, “As if,” and let her brave the medical bay door alone.
It was symbolic somehow – opening the door, possibly ending one life, possibly beginning a new one. Entering the unknown and expecting chaos, that was what the marriage, the courtship, was to her and Clarke hated feeling out of control. But if she was to join souls with this Bellamy (or whatever the Grounders understood as a marriage ceremony), she would do it on her terms, and in a way that he would respect her and her wishes.
Indra stayed behind as she went to hug Raven and check on Finn. Raven’s eyes were wet when Clarke gave her the glass jar, but she nodded and accepted it despite her disinclination to use it. Her determination, devotion and love for Finn sometimes left Clarke breathless, and she often wondered what it would be like to be loved to such degree.
Maybe – she looked at Indra and tried to remember what Bellamy looked like with no luck – she would find out.
And maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad and scary after all.