Chapter Text
Once upon a time in the small Kingdom of Arkadia, in the capital city nestled in a valley between snowy mountains, a princess rapped urgently on a dressmaker's wooden door.
Someone was loudly banging around inside the shop. She waited for only a few seconds before knocking again, her nerves on edge with each passing second.
“Closed!” came the angry shout from behind the door.
Clarke worried her lip, glancing at the guards standing behind her. It wasn’t befitting her station to shout back, but she couldn’t leave. She knocked again and this time kept knocking until the door was ripped open.
An inconveniently handsome young man with dark, stormy eyes glared at her. She could see red veins in his eyes and his appearance was one of genuine dishevelment, not the artfully styled imitation of dishevelment she was used to seeing on him.
“What do you want, Princess?” he bit out.
She flinched. He said her title with the same disdain he’d used when they first met and he was the incorrigible young assistant to Clarke’s dressmaker, his mother. His voice held none of teasing fondness with which he’d spoken it in the past few years.
Or at least, she’d thought it might be fondness, perhaps.
It didn’t matter. It was gone now.
Clarke gathered herself and held up the bundle she’d brought. “Mr. Blake, I’m afraid there was a mishap with the dress I mean to wear at the Yule Feast and it needs to be repaired. It’s only a few days away so–”
“The Queen, your mother, sentenced my sister to be sacrificed to Krampus tonight,” Bellamy interrupted, his nostrils flaring. “I think I’ll be too preoccupied with grieving to do any mending for the foreseeable future.”
Of course, Bellamy had no intention of grieving anyone, but she couldn’t very well tell him that she knew that with her mother's loyal guards breathing down her neck.
“I know,” Clarke admitted softly, trying desperately to imbue her stare with meaning. “However, if you just let me come in and show you the damage, I think I can make it worth your while–”
He scoffed, disbelieving. “Of course you do. You think everything can be bought with money. You’re just as vapid as I always thought you were.” Clarke reeled back, too stung to speak. “Leave! ”
The door slammed in her face and Clarke trembled, unsure what to do. A guard leaned in and whispered “Passersby are watching, Your Highness.”
She took one breath to collect herself and then let them escort her back to the castle.
She had another plan, but it required her to have faith– faith that Bellamy would be able to gather his wits and use his head to do what needed to be done, and faith that he would care enough to try.
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Bellamy’s head was still buzzing with anger as he made his way up the familiar path that would take him near where the children were left to be taken by Krampus. It was a path he used often to spy on castle activities.
He’d spied on sacrifices before so he knew that Octavia would be well guarded. He would have to take out a dozen of the Queen’s men between the time she was left in the middle of the clearing and midnight when Krampus would appear.
He pulled his coat tighter against the cold. The red color didn’t help him blend in with the landscape, but it was the last thing his mother had made him. She told him it would protect him when he needed it most.
It was his fault. He never should have let Octavia help him with his… nightly activities. He never should have let her even find out about them. Why did he have to be so reckless? They were all each other had and he risked them both to try and make a difference in a broken world that was probably beyond repair.
Soldiers appeared from the direction of the castle carrying torches and a human sized burlap sack. It was squirming a little but Octavia wasn’t fighting or swearing at the soldiers which was strange. Maybe she was bound and gagged inside the sack. The thought made him clench his jaw.
The sun was completely gone by now and a thin crescent moon was out with a blanket of sparkling stars. The soldiers dumped the sack in the center of the clearing and began to retreat back to the treeline to watch. Without the torchlight, it just appeared like a large dark lump in the tall grass and snow.
Bellamy quietly readied his bow to begin taking them out while they were still out in the open. Before he could let the first arrow fly, he heard thundering hooves coming from the direction of the hunter’s path he’d come from. The soldiers heard it too and readied their weapons while running to the treeline. Bellamy cursed under his breath.
As the hoofbeats grew closer, he also heard a voice. They were clearly trying not to be too loud. He crept closer to the path, but stayed hidden. A figure on a horse came into view, their long hair and cloak flying behind them.
“Bell!” Octavia’s hoarse voice came out. Bellamy froze in confusion. “Bell!” She was closer and looking right at him now.
Octavia brought the horse to a stop near where he was still reeling in confusion. He swept her up in a relieved embrace.
“Why are you wearing that thing?” she said with a smirk, tugging at the sleeve of his coat. “Do you want to get caught?”
“I was doing just fine going unnoticed until you came clamoring out here.” Bellamy scowled and turned his attention back towards the clearing.
The soldiers he could see had moved to be in a defensive position in the trees between the siblings and the clearing. They didn’t seem to be trying to investigate the racket Octavia had made, just to prevent whoever it was from reaching the burlap sack.
“I had to warn you before you did something stupid,” Octavia whispered, now standing next to him and observing the clearing.
“I don’t understand. How are you here?”
“It was Clarke.” All the breath left Bellamy’s lungs as he tried to process what his sister was saying. “She visited me in the dungeons. She said she tried to tell you her plan, but you wouldn’t listen.” Octavia’s brow furrowed and she sounded worried. “So she had to change the plan and switch places with me so I could warn you before you got yourself killed.”
“Clarke? Clarke is down there right now? She’s letting them hand her over to Krampus?” His mind brought back memories of their fight. She’d been so pushy to have her dress mended when she knew his sister had just been sentenced to certain death. She’d just wanted to talk to him alone and he’d been too ready to believe she was the self-centered materialistic princess she’d thought she was before he’d gotten to know her. “This is insane, she's helpless down there. What kind of a plan is that? We have to get her out of there.” He notched an arrow in his bow again. His heart was beating wildly as he tried to put eyes on all the soldiers and formulate an approach.
“There’s too many of them. We have to let her go for now.” Octavia put a firm hand on his arm. “Krampus doesn’t eat the children he takes until his feast the night before Yule, remember? We have until then.”
Just then, a sound came from the western forest, a sound of bells and clinking chains. It was a sound few had heard, but everyone knew to fear. Then the crunching of the underbrush joined the noise. Something big was moving through the forest, something unafraid of being heard.
A shaggy hunched form emerged from the trees, it must have been 12 feet tall. Krampus’s body was covered in long gray hair that sprung from dark roots. His legs were like those of a goat and gave him an uncanny gait. His face was pale and leathery, gaunt and scarred, contorted into a permanent scowl. Two large twisted horns pointed up at the sky. A string of rusted, heavy-looking bells of different sizes hung around the beast’s neck. Chains were manacled to his wrists but did not restrain him.
Bellamy lowered his bow and watched. Armies had failed to defeat Krampus in the past, he had no chance against him.
When he reached the dark lump at the center of the clearing, his thin lips pulled back in what must have been a smile. The sharp teeth of a predator glistened in the moonlight. He raised the bundle of birch branches he carried and brought it down hard on the bundle. A torturously sweet familiar voice cried out in pain.
Bellamy lurched forward, but stopped himself. “She has a plan,” Octavia whispered urgently.
Krampus leaned down and seemed to be speaking, but it was too far and soft for them to hear. Then his deep laugh echoed through the forest like thunder.
He hit Clarke a few more times. Bellamy felt sick at the sound of her cries. Some hero he turned out to be: standing by and watching an innocent girl be beaten and sacrificed. Then Krampus roughly picked up the burlap sack that contained her and placed it in the wicker basket on his back.
Bellamy ran his hand through his hair and his eyes watered in frustration as he watched Clarke be taken into the forest, away from him.
Octavia put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If we follow Clarke's plan, we can save all of them.”
He looked back and nodded. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, resolved to do what it took. “What do we need to do?”
“First, we need to find John Murphy.”
“John Murphy?” His brow furrowed when he remembered the name. “He's not dead ?”
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Clarke shivered in the cold as she felt heavy footsteps reverberating, growing closer to her. If Bellamy was going to try something, surely he would have done it by now. Octavia must have been able to reach him which was a relief.
She tried to focus on thoughts of Bellamy to distract her from her fear. He must have sworn when Octavia told him. He probably ran his hands through his curls in frustration. Clarke smiled to herself. He didn’t like any plan that wasn’t his. Well, too bad.
The footsteps stopped and she could hear the beast sniffing the air above her. Suddenly, she heard a rustling of branches and then a painful impact across the backs of her thighs. She cried out and thrashed against the rope around her legs and wrists.
“You don’t smell like the delinquent I was promised,” an inhumanly deep voice rumbled from terrifyingly close to her. Clarke froze. Something rubbery prodded at the burlap followed by a slurping sound, it must have been his long dexterous tongue she realized with disgust. “A princess, hmm? I haven’t had one of those before. You’ve been very naughty, Clarke Griffin, meddling with my feast. Perhaps I’ll make you the dessert.” The rumble of his laughter penetrated her to her bones.
Clarke didn’t reply and more blows rained down until she was jostled as Krampus picked up the sack she was in. She thought of Bellamy, silently hoping he would follow her plan. She knew a lot more about him than he believed. He was a good man in truth. He liked to pretend he was selfish, that he only cared about himself and his sister, but she knew he had ideals. Even though Octavia was safe now, he would want to save everyone… even a vapid princess.
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Clarke said Murphy could be found on the southern side of the city, skulking in the alleys near dressmakers and haberdasheries, picking pockets as usual. It was far from his old haunt, but it sounded very much like him.
Despite the late hour, they finally found him lurking about in the light of the oil lamps wearing a coat that was far too nice for his ilk. As soon as he noticed Bellamy and Octavia looking at him, he bolted. They caught up quickly, Bellamy pinning him to a brick wall in a putrid alley next to a lively tavern.
“It wasn’t me,” Murphy groaned, hands raised in surrender.
“What wasn’t you?” Bellamy countered.
“Every time some chump gets skinned, someone comes looking to give me a beating like I’m the only fingersmith in the city. I don’t do that anymore,” he whined, sounding quite put upon. “I’m on the straight and narrow, earn my coin honest. When I’m hungry, I sing a tune and the heavenly angels that wealthy Arkadians are–well, they just can’t help throwing some fortune my way.” He flashed a grin with a glint in his eyes.
“Don’t care,” Bellamy said shortly. “I’m more interested in why you’re not dead.”
Murphy stiffened, the smile dropping right off his face.
“That’s right, I remember you,” Bellamy continued. “Three years ago you were sacrificed to Krampus. No one survives that, but here you are. So what did you do? Trick them into sending some poor fool to die in your place?”
“I was sacrificed and Krampus let me go. Is survival a crime?” He started struggling against Bellamy’s hold.
“Depends on how you do it,” Octavia said. “Why would Krampus let you go?”
Murphy started laughing in Bellamy’s face. “What makes it your business? Are the Blakes the Queen’s loyal dogs now? Your mother would be–”
Bellamy cut him off with a fist in his gut. Murphy crumpled and slid down the wall to rest on the filthy ground. Bellamy looked around to make sure no one was listening before lowering his voice. “Clarke said you could lead us to a witch. Did she help you escape? Make someone else look like you or cast some sort of enchantment on Krampus?”
“Princess Clarke?” Murphy’s face sobered and his eyes darted between the two of them as if looking for signs of deceit. “Why would Clarke tell you that?”
“So it’s true?” Octavia said. “The witch helped you?”
“No. Well, sort of.” Murphy hesitated “Listen, I already risked my hide leading Clarke there. I’ve no intention of ever goin’ back there again. Clarke knows the way, let her take you.” Murphy doffed his cap and made to rise, but Bellamy grabbed him forcefully by the collar.
“Krampus has Clarke,” Bellamy said.
Murphy froze and then shook his head and scoffed. “The Queen would never sacrifice her own daughter.”
“She didn’t,” Octavia said, her voice tight. “The Queen picked me and Clarke traded places with me. She didn’t have time to tell me her whole plan to defeat Krampus, but whatever it was, it’s up to the three of us now. The witch must know more and you’re the only one who can take us to her.”
Murphy mulled it over. “The three of us ? We’re hardly a portrait of monarchist loyalty. Why should we stick our necks out to rescue a bloody princess?”
Bellamy’s jaw ticked, but he reined in his temper. “Clarke is more than just a princess. I think you know that. You helped her before.”
“So?” Murphy said nervously, shrugging a shoulder. “She gave me coin and a new coat. Didn’t do it out of the kindness of my heart, did I?”
Bellamy’s gaze narrowed at the coat. It had been dirtied, but the fine material and craftsmanship was obvious. “I bet your picking picked right up after you got that new coat, didn’t it? The nobles suddenly at ease in your presence, not grabbing their purses, right?”
Murphy looked at him askance. “You can’t be suggesting her royal highness did that on purpose. You want me to believe the princess wanted me to be a better thief?”
“She wanted you to survive. She wants everyone to survive. That’s who Clarke is,” Bellamy said firmly. “She’s stuck her neck out for the rest of us by consorting with criminals and witches to try and find a way to defeat Krampus. Clarke was the sixth sacrifice, but Krampus won’t eat the sacrifices until after he takes the seventh one tomorrow night. We can still save them all.”
He thought about all the things he’d gotten from Clarke that had helped his own exploits: tidbits she dropped into conversation about noble families that had acquired new small treasures, her social calendar of parties and how late the guests would be there, even details about guard routes in the city. All this time he thought she was being shallow and oblivious.
Murphy exhaled in resignation. “The day before I was arrested, some friends and I wandered up Mount Jaha and found this weird cabin surrounded by trees loaded with fruit. Middle of winter, mind you. Way more than anyone could eat on their own. When we thought she was distracted, we took some clementines. I swear we didn't know she was a witch! She almost killed me for it!” he insisted. “They were delicious though, best thing I ever tasted.”
“Get to the point.”
“I still had a few on me when I was arrested and thrown in a sack to be eaten. When Krampus took me out of the sack in his lair, I started trying to barter for my life. I offered him a clementine– as a gesture of good will, you know? And he…took it. Then he let me go.”
“What do you mean?” Bellamy demanded. “You expect us to believe Krampus just let you go because you gave him a piece of fruit?”
Murphy shrugged. “He sat down to eat it and even gave me a piece. Then he started chatting like it was tea time, talking about how this was his favorite time of year because his homeland– ugh.” He made a face. “Because it doesn't have anything as tasty as human children. Then when he finished the fruit he told me to go home.”
“So you just left?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. “You didn't try to save the other children?”
Murphy glared. “Hey! I don't see you taking on Krampus all by your lonesome either so spare me.”
“Clarke said to have you lead us to the witch, she must know how to defeat Krampus,” Bellamy said.
“No way in hell. I'll tell you how to get there, but I'm not going near that witch again.”
“The boy who survived Krampus is too scared of some woman he stole some oranges from?” Bellamy asked skeptically.
Murphy grimaced. “I may have done more than that.”