Chapter Text
Bellamy knew the apple was bad before he even bit into it, but he did it anyway, fighting back the grimace that wanted to break across his face as the borderline rotten juice dripped slowly down his chin. Instead he smiled, rewarded instantly by a giggle from his sister as his bared teeth showed bits of apple skin stuck in them.
His sister, his responsibility.
37 days and counting since Aurora Blake had died, and as time continued to pass and money continued to dwindle, so did Bellamy’s hope that he would actually be able to live up to the expectations his mother’s dying words had contained in regards to Octavia.
At least today she had the fresher of the two pieces of fruit he’d managed to afford for their breakfast, though he could see that hers was still bitter. Just like her brother, Octavia kept her face blank despite the bad taste of the apple. It was hard to watch, so he broke the silence, pushing his own water toward her when she finished her own.
“What are your plans for today, Octavia?” Bellamy himself was going into town to look for work, though the scandal shortly before his mother’s death was making it incredibly difficult to find anyone willing to hire him.
Nobody wanted to give an apprenticeship, or a job, to the son of the woman with a secret.
“’aven’t thought abou’ it,” Octavia answered him around a mouthful of apple, tiny pieces of skin flying from her mouth and landing neatly on the wooden table. His sister, the charmer.
“Do you want to try that again? This time after your mouth isn’t full?” Bellamy’s words were stern but his tone wasn’t, his eyes shining with obvious fondness.
Octavia shrugged, not even remotely bothered as she finished chewing, repeating herself. “I haven’t thought about it. It’s not like I have any friends to go be social with, or any male suitors.” She said the last two words with a decided amount of venom, and this time Bellamy frowned. Hearing his mother’s words repeated with such anger only served to confuse him more. He was angry, but she was still his mother.
His heart ached for Octavia, however, knowing that nobody in the town cared to associate with the Blakes anymore. An illegitimate child, a former promising carpenter’s apprentice, and the memory of a dead criminal, all accounted for; home sweet home.
“What happened to that big long speech you gave me about being self-sufficient and able to entertain yourself and all that?” Bellamy stood to clear the table, though there wasn’t much to clear away after a breakfast of water and apples.
“It was a lie so you’d leave, of course,” Octavia stated in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, standing to look in the mirror on the far wall, frowning at a particularly stubborn lock of hair that refused to stay put underneath her fading hair ribbon. Bellamy made a mental note to buy her a new one as soon as they had more money.
He let out an overdramatic sort of sigh, pulling his attention away from Octavia to instead stare out the window at their pathetic excuse for property. Nothing had grown in quite some time, the outside of the house and the barn across the field were falling apart, and he couldn’t remember the last time the barn had contained any livestock. Now it was just a tomb for his destroyed hopes of becoming a carpenter, and his mother’s secret that had gotten them into this mess.
Octavia never looked at the barn, though whether or not it was intentional he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t blame her either way.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Octavia. I know things are hard, and things are feeling a little desperate right now, but I promise you,” Bellamy said, turning to face her now, “nothing is going to happen to you. Or us. We’re going to be fine.”
It was obvious that Octavia didn’t believe him but she crossed the tiny kitchen to smooth his shirt. It was his nicest one, and it was starting to become worn. She made a mental note to fix the worst of the holes when he returned that evening. It would at least give her something to do, and put the abandoned supplies to good use. Her mother may have given up on her seamstress ways but at least she could give it a try.
“I know, Bellamy. Now go. Off to dazzle the town with your wit and skills.”
Bellamy scoffed at her sarcasm but leaned to press a kiss to her cheek gently, before dashing out the door with promises to not come home until he’d found a job.
“Work for the princess, they said. She needs a bodyguard and you’re the best woman for the job, they said. It’ll be easy, they-“
“Are you quite finished?” Clarke’s voice was sharp, though her eyes betrayed her amusement. Raven Reyes certainly had been the best woman to protect the princess, her no-nonsense attitude paired with the way she wasn’t afraid to call Clarke out when she was being ridiculous all wrapped up neatly with her combat skills made her the perfect bodyguard for the heiress to the throne.
That and Raven owed Clarke her life, but as far as the two were concerned, that debt had been settled after a messy incident involving Sir Finn from two kingdoms over, the debacle only proving to strengthen their friendship..
“No, I’m not finished. As much as I enjoy spending time beneath the petticoats of beautiful ladies, I don’t think these particular ones are going to be fitting through this tunnel of yours any time soon, Clarke.” Raven wiped sweat from her brow to emphasize her point. There was no way Clarke’s beautiful royal clothes were going to fit through the tunnel Raven had expertly dug and hidden from prying eyes. “You need a disguise.”
Embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of such a thing in the first place, Clarke nodded in agreement. Sneaking out wasn’t something they’d ever had to do before, but since the incident with Aurora Blake, it had gotten harder to stay away from prying eyes in the castle. But out there in the distant parts of Arkadia, the parts of her kingdom that couldn’t even dream of how much money her family possessed, was what Aurora Blake had left behind, and Clarke was very much interested.
“Do your best, Miss Reyes.”
Three quarters of an hour later, Clarke was almost unrecognizable in a torn peasant’s gown, a remainder of Raven’s former life, dirt strategically smudged across her face, and her golden blonde hair tucked underneath a worn old bonnet. It was almost crazy enough to work.
“I’ll ensure everyone thinks you have retired for the night early due to a headache, Princess. Monty and Jasper will be waiting at the edge of the forest to take you to the Blake property.” Clarke nodded at Raven’s instructions as she prepared to squeeze through the tunnel, even if she’d already heard them dozens of times. It was the first time Raven was allowing her out of her sight in months, and she felt the anxiety pulsing off the woman in front of her.
“See you at breakfast,” Clarke said with a wink before pushing herself into the ground, wondering why they’d bothered with rubbing dirt on her, covered in it by the time she reached the other side of the palace wall. At least it would keep her disguised better, though Raven’s strategic digging of the tunnel deposited her close to the edge of the forest, as opposed to forcing her to walk through town.
She found Monty and Jasper not long after, glad to see them in a setting that wasn’t a stuffy ball, or dinner, or any of the other countless occasions at the palace that felt more like prison sentences than parties.
“Baths no longer required for the royal family?” Monty asked teasingly, though he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Clarke’s cheek in greeting, coming away with a streak of dirt on his upper lip. Jasper immediately leaned in and wiped it away for him.
“Not today. I hope you both know how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me today.”
Jasper waved away her gratitude as he took her hand to help her up into back of the carriage. “Think nothing of it, Clarke.” He winked at her, or at least tried to. She’d always told him he was terrible at winking, and she laughed every time no matter how often she’d seen him attempt. “You know we always look for an opportunity to break a few laws.” With that, he shut the carriage door and hopped up next to Monty in the driver’s seat.
The kingdom of Arkadia passed by through the small windows, and Clarke couldn’t look away. The quality of living visibly declined the further they went, and it made guilt she often tried to suppress at her mother’s urging that “such thoughts of feeling sorry for peasants do not suit a princess” churn in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been very good at suppressing her emotions, after all.
The carriage began to slow at the very edge of the poorest part of the entire kingdom before finally coming to a halt. Clarke heard shuffling as the carriage rocked, and moments later Monty was wrenching open the door.
“You’ll have to walk from here, Princess. I think pulling up directly to the front door will be a bit conspicuous.”
Nodding, Clarke adjusted the bonnet on her head to ensure her hair wouldn’t fall from it, kissed the cheeks of both the men who had helped her, and started toward the edge of the Blake property, ignoring the little rundown home in favor of the barn, her fingers already itching for what she knew would be inside.
It was another unsuccessful day, and Bellamy started to feel real panic as he walked home from town. He hadn’t told Octavia, but at this point, he was simply asking the same people to give him a chance every day, because he was completely out of options. He’d have to tell her soon, but right now, he wanted to enjoy the delusion that maybe he hadn’t failed his little sister yet.
The house was dark, no candles lit anywhere, and he knew she’d probably gone to sleep hours ago.
What stopped him in his tracks, however, was the noise gently coming from the barn.
For a second he thought he was hallucinating. No sound like that had come from the barn since the last day Aurora Blake had been alive, and he wasn’t one to believe in ghosts.
An ax was propped against the side of the house, and Bellamy grabbed it as he quickly but quietly moved to the barn. The door was propped open, just enough for him to slide in without having to open the door any further, giving him time to see his intruder.
The girl’s back was to him, and a bonnet sat on top of the piano she was currently playing, revealing her wavy, golden hair.
The princess of Arkadia was in his barn, playing the piano that had been the very reason her family had decided to have his mother sentenced to death.
His grip on the ax loosened as he listened. He tended to avoid music, but the tune she was playing was beautiful, unlike anything he’d ever heard before. She seemed to play with her whole body, the music ebbing and flowing from her very core to her fingertips and out onto the keys, a haunting melody that made him sad for reasons he couldn’t even begin to explain.
But regardless of her talent, she was still intruding, and his mother was still dead.
“Can I help you, Princess?”