When Abby is diagnosed with cancer, Clarke moves back to Arkadia, Texas, to help take care of her and her medical practice. Clarke had never planned to move back to her hometown, and she certainly never planned on wanting to stick around.
But as she falls back into her old friend group, she finds herself feeling like she belongs somewhere for the first time in a long time. She tries not to attribute that to Bellamy, her childhood best friend's older brother and surprisingly her closest friend upon her returning to town.
Some things never change, but Bellamy has. He's grown up, both in maturity and in looks, and Clarke finds herself falling for her best friend. But she can't risk starting something with her closest friend. What happens to them when she decides to leave again? Or worse, what happens if she decides she doesn't want to?
***
Written for @animmortalist as part of @t100fic-for-blm.
a bellarke fic for @griffin-kru, written for @bellarkefic-for-blm
Ark had been O’s idea. Old towns are full of ghosts, she insisted. And maybe they are, but Bellamy hasn’t seen one yet. Sure, their line goes off at least twice a week, which is far more frequent than in Mt. Weather. But it’s never for an actual haunting.
Vera Kane had them investigate her attic, which she was certain was crawling with evil spirits. Turns out, her son had called an exterminator to deal with her mice problem up there and she didn’t remember him telling her that, though he swears he did.
Jasper Jordan reported seeing something in the old cemetery. It would have been nice to have known that the kid had been high as a kite before Bellamy and Octavia spent an entire evening searching a cemetery. He should have known better. Ghosts don’t linger around cemeteries if they can help it.
That little girl Reese offered everything in her piggy bank to make sure her bedroom wasn’t haunted after another girl brought a Ouija board to a sleepover and claimed to have summoned a spirit. He did that one free of charge.
At least in Mt. Weather, there had been real ghosts. Here, he’s just like a parent who checks his kid’s closet to make sure no monsters are in there.
Written for @imunbreakabledude as a part of @bellarkefic-for-blm, with a moodboard by @broashwhat.
Murphy should be asleep. It had been a long night, one that spilled over into dawn. He’s exhausted, and he knows there will be so much to do once everyone’s up. But he can’t seem to rest. He rolls over to look at Emori. She’s never had any trouble sleeping and he envies her. She looks at peace, and Murphy wishes it could always be like that for the two of them. As much as everything seems to be at a standstill for now, he knows better than to expect things to stay that way. Clarke killed all the Primes, so the Sanctum believers were probably gonna have a bone to pick. The Children of Gabriel always seemed to have issues. It’s a wonder this entire society hadn’t imploded long before their group arrived.
Eventually Murphy pulls the covers back and gets out of bed. He puts on his boots and heads downstairs. If he’s not going to get any sleep, he might as well just start his day. He’s never known any of his friends to sleep for long, so he’s sure people will be waking up soon. He sits down outside of the garage, staring at the carnage left over from the night before. Murphy lets out a sigh. They really have a lot of cleaning up ahead of them. But what else is new?
He’s not sure how long he’s sitting by himself, but eventually he sees a shadow hover above him. He looks up to find Emori smiling down at him. She’s no longer in her Sanctum finery, but she looks more beautiful than ever. He smiles back as she sits down beside him.
“Did you get any sleep at all?” she asks.
Murphy shrugs. “Maybe an hour? Couldn’t shut my brain off.”
Emori nods before resting her head on his shoulder. He leans into her touch, putting his head on top of hers.
“How about you?” he asks.
“A little.”
They lapse back into silence, but Murphy doesn’t mind. He feels a lot better just having Emori beside him. Knowing that she wants to be beside him forever. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined someone as amazing as Emori choosing to be with him, but she chooses him everyday. And he’s never been more grateful for anyone in his life. He lets out a chuckle as he takes in their view again.
Emori lifts her head and frowns at him. “What is it?”
“So much for a fancy Sanctum wedding,” Murphy says.
@kinetic-elaboration IT IS FINALLY FINISHED. OMG. I AM SO SORRY ITS LATE. Also thankyou so much for participating in @t100fic-for-blm I also sorry if the ending seems rushed but if you want me to i will go back and change it. I am just so glad it is finally done. Here is the link to Unofficially Mandatory
Prompt: Canon Speculative. Clarke gets put in the M-Cap and Bellamy sees her memories, especially the radio calls, and just feelings and end game and Bellamy stop being brainwashed.
A prompt fill for @edgelessness in support of @bellarkefic-for-blm.
Read it on A03 or under the cut:
Don’t focus on the restraints. Don’t think about the last time you couldn’t move on a table. Don’t remember what it felt like when you were struggling to breathe, Russell Lightborne speaking softly above you, casually discussing your death. Don’t think about Sanctum at all. Madi’s in - Don’t.
Think about the ground. Think of plummeting to earth in the drop ship, the fresh, crisp and overwhelmingly new smell when Bellamy opened the Dropship door. Before it got complicated, before the wars and death.Go as far back as you can remember. Waste their time. You choose the memories. Before the ground, even. Before the hundred and two. Before Bellamy. The Ark. Nothing could hurt her on the Ark, not really. At least not anymore.
“We knew nothing of the flame on the Ark,” Comes Bellamy’s voice, but not Bellamy. Bellamy wouldn’t stand and watch while a cult tortured her. Not with Octavia and Echo safe mere steps away, and even then, he would fight to save her. To save them all. He had no reason to let this happen. Why was he letting this happen? “Find Lexa.”
Levitt turns a dial, Clarke winces, trying to keep the wall built to bury her pain from crumbling beneath the needle of this machine. It’s a low blow, and both she and Bellamy know it. Stop thinking of Bellamy. Don’t think of Lexa. Clarke focuses on the woods, the smell of the earth, the feeling of red berries pressed under her palms, raked through her long hair. Wanheda. These memories were jumbled, so much she had chosen to forget coming to the surface. The cold air, the damp ground she slept on, the loneliness that nearly consumed her. These were safe memories, nobody could be hurt by them but her.
She gasps out in pain again. “Show us the Commander,” Cadogen orders. “Force her if you must.” The Commander. There are so many. Doesn’t he know there is more than one? Clarke thinks she feels blood leaking from the corner of her eye. Recite the lineage. Stop before it’s too late. Stop before-
“She’s protecting something,” Levitt states.
“Show us the last Commander. Where is the flame?” Bellamy insists.
Clarke cannot think of the pain of this latest betrayal without putting Madi at risk. She needs a place to hide, to let out all of her feelings. Her vision whites out, and suddenly it occurs to her it was only a week ago she had died from having one too many people inside her head. And Bellamy had saved her. Bellamy had saved her so many times, even when he didn’t know.
“You’ll never guess what I found today. Apple trees! They’re not quite ready yet, but I’m going to try and dry as many as I can. I’m not sure if we’ll get Winter this year, but I’d rather be ready in case. Next batch of algae, just try and picture an apple instead. I’m sure pretending helps, I know it does for me.”
Cadogen’s eyes flash to Bellamy’s, an idea formulating. “Stay with these,” He orders Levitt.
“It hasn’t stopped raining for ten days; I’ve been going house to house, trying to get anything useful off the ground before the mud ruins it. Can you see the weather patterns from up there?”
Bellamy blinks at the projection in confusion, seeing visions through Clarke’s eyes, slipping in deep mud, pushing up from the ground, palms bloody from going down hard.
“Guess it would help if I actually turned the radio on if I’m going to ask you questions. I forget sometimes, that you might actually be listening and it’s not all in my head. Sorry for having no filter.” Bellamy bristles at the scene portrayed, Clarke alone with the portable radio, miles from any of the tree lines he saw previously.
“I wasn’t supposed to survive it.” Clarke screams to the sky, hand gripping the call button so tight she’s shaking. “I wasn’t supposed to be here alone. Damn it Bellamy why did you leave me here alone?” That staggers him, and he looks at her face, not the projection of her memories for the first time. Clarke struggles against the machine, fighting tears from both the pain and the shame. The blood flowing from where the cap digs in is the least of her worries. Her breaking points, her desperation and loneliness are laid out for everyone to see, for Bellamy to see. Don’t let Bellamy see -
“These aren’t the answers we need,” Bellamy says, careful to keep his voice even. Cadogen looks between the two of them. “She must face penance for lying,” He says grimly. “We need fighters like her in the war to come. I will not waste her talent,” He meets Levitt’s gaze and makes a motion with his hand. “But I will break her all the same.”
Clarke screams and it sends ice through Bellamy’s veins. It’s dark now. Clarke’s hair is short, like when Eligius came down. Bellamy can’t see but he imagines Madi is just out of the line of sight, and the effort Clarke is making to hold their focus on the stars is costing her dearly.
“I know we already talked this morning,” Clarke says into the radio. “But you were supposed to come down today. It’s been five years.” She quirks her mouth wryly, kicking at a rock near her foot. “You never got the hang of checking in on time I guess,” her voice turns melancholy.
“Please stop,” Clarke’s shredded voice pierces the memory. Levitt looks to Cadogen for direction, hoping he’ll at least be allowed to let her rest.
“The truth shall set you free,” Cadogen tells her smugly.
“I waited a long time to make this call. I wanted to tell you in person. But, now…I’m trying to have hope, Bellamy. But that’s what I had you for.” Bellamy’s face darkens. He tries to meet Clarke’s gaze but she turns away as far as the machine will allow. He looks at Cadogen pleadingly. He knows Clarke never wanted him to know about these calls. Having them projected in front of him…this didn’t serve mankind. He could give her this last mercy.
“My Shepherd,”
“It must be done.”
“I understand Sir, please excuse me-“
“You will stay precisely where you are Mr. Blake.”
“Sir please,”
“What I have,” Clarke says into the radio, emphasizing the amendment. “What I have you for.”
“There is nothing about the flame in these memories,” Bellamy implores. “Her mind is weak from Josephine’s invasion, if you push too hard on things that don’t matter, she won’t be able to tell you where it is.”
“You are enlightened my son, and understand that these feelings don’t matter.” Cadogen speaks to Bellamy, but keeps his gaze steady on Clarke. “She must learn the same.”
“But, but just in case I don’t get the chance to say it in person,” Clarke’s screams turn to sobs. She could turn her head towards Madi, tempt Cadogen with answers to keep them out of this. But it’s too hard to fight now, she’s too tired to steer them.
“I love you, Bellamy.” He freezes, eyes wide in some sadistic mixture of horror and elation. It felt like seeing his Mom again. Like a dream he had never dared to hope, and now he had it but everything about it felt wrong. Not like this. Never like this. “I should have told you sooner. I knew, I knew for so long and I had to hide it because I was afraid it would stop me from doing what I had to do, to keep our people safe. And it did. You said it was the right choice not to shoot you in the bunker, and it was. But it was for the wrong reason. It was because I was too weak, because I loved you too much to lose you. ” Clarke shatters chest heaving sobs wracking her body that mirror the frantic tears in the memory. The realization of losing him, then and now, drowning her beneath waves of agony long buried. “But it’s good I never got the chance to tell you. You wouldn’t have left me behind. You’d never have left if you knew. And I couldn’t bear it if you…you did the right thing, leaving me. But if you come back, I hope I get to tell you. Please come back.”
“I know this pain, Clarke,” Cadogen steps towards her. “I know that you feel that Bellamy has betrayed you. But he did not abandon you. He is committed to serving all mankind, as am I. Do not stand in the way of humanity for something as weak as one unrequited desire.” Clarke’s face burns with shame, years of carefully protecting herself, of protecting him undone by one nightmare of a machine. “Show me the key. Where is it?” Cadogen crowds her.
“Get out of my head!” Clarke shrieks. Cadogen remains eerily calm in the face of her anguish.
“You know Clarke, I’m beginning to realize that you two have never actually spoken about this before.” He grins as though he is a child amused with new toys. “I am happy to let you spend the time here reconciling. But you will show me everything I wish to know about the key, first.”
Clarke shakes her head, desperate to keep her mind anywhere else. Cadogen sighs. “Bellamy?”
Bellamy stands at attention, mind still reeling from all he’s just heard.
“I am going to step out for a moment. If Clarke does not provide us with the location of the key by the time I return, I will ask you to take this,” Cadogen produces a knife and offers it to Bellamy. “And run the blade across your throat.”
Bellamy takes the blade, his hand trembling but his voice steady. “For all mankind.”
Cadogen rests his hand against Bellamy’s cheek, the intimate gesture reminding him of his vision of Aurora still fresh in his mind. “You are a good son.” Cadogen turns back to Clarke. “You can do as you always do, you can save him. Tell us, for the good of all mankind. I swear to you none of your friends will be harmed. Do not test the Shepherd's power,” He warns her darkly before exiting.
Bellamy unsheathes the blade and turns to her, holding it flush across his neck.
“Don’t!” She pleads with him. “Bellamy please-“
“Tell us where it is,” He says, somewhere between a demand and a request. “Just show him the key and this can all end.”
“You know I can’t do that,” She cries.
“You don’t understand Clarke, this is about more than just our people. It’s all people. The fate of the human race. Can you understand that?” Her face twists again, wrecked by the pain of resisting and the cruelty of her words from so long ago flung back at her so callously.
“Bellamy-” She’s sobbing again, out of the strength to hide it. “I don’t have what he wants, you know I don’t. Please, please stop.”
“Give them something, Clarke. Anything.” Levitt chooses his words carefully. “Even something you don’t recognize as helpful might be.”
Cadogen reenters, clearly displeased. “You’re so much like her,” He tells Clarke. “Stubborn enough to get everyone you love killed, because you just don’t want to see the truth.” He turns from her dismissively, and gives Bellamy a heavy stare. “For all mankind.”
Bellamy hesitates, hand trembling. “Do not disappoint us,” Cadogen says. Blood begins to appear on his neck, Clarke screams, all eyes turning back towards her.
“I’ll show you where it is,” She heaves. “Maybe you can recover the data from the flame.”
“Right now,” Cadogen demands. “Or this will not end.”
Clarke closes her eyes in defeat, recalls the image of the flame and a necklace lying in the dirt, covered over.
“Where?” Cadogen pushes.
“Sanctum.” Bellamy answers. “It’s the last place she saw her mother alive. That necklace belonged to her.”
“Thank you Bellamy.” Cadogen says, gesturing for Bellamy to lower the blade. “Deposit her back with her friends and then return to me. We must prepare for a journey.” He ignores Clarke’s completely, her usefulness running its course.
*
Even without Cadogen’s hospitality, they were still the best prison cells they’d ever had. Except maybe for Mt. Weather. At least that was the spin Miller was choosing to take on it, finding the positive, embracing the good moments like Jax had taught him to. There was a bed and blankets for each of them, and they were sleeping in shifts. Niylah, Hope, and Jordan were at least attempting to sleep, no guarantees any of them actually were but he gave them the courtesy of letting them pretend. Echo was leaning against the far wall, so still you might miss her if you didn’t know to look, which was either a strategy or a reflex he wasn’t entirely sure. Gabriel, Raven, and Octavia sat on the bedroll nearest to her, talking quietly. Which left him to pace by the door, ever on watch.
The door to the cell opens, Miller tenses, meeting Echo’s eye from across the room. Niylah jumps up to stand near him, Jordan and Hope stay close to the ground but alert. Clarke comes through the door, upright but barely, dried blood caked across her forehead and eyes red from crying. Shit. She looks at him for a moment, shakes her head and forces herself to keep walking. Gabriel and Octavia jump up to steady her, leaving Miller free to confront who comes through next.
Levitt appears, a peace offering of medical supplies in hand. Miller yanks them from his hands and passes them quickly to Niylah before pinning Levitt to the wall.
“Miller don’t!” Octavia says sharply.
“What did you do to her?” He growls.
“Let him go,” A second voice orders. Bellamy. “He did everything he could to make it easy, Clarke made it hard. He brought bandages to be kind. Let him go.”
Miller looks back to the group, Hope gives a nod, and Raven glares at Bellamy, rage in her eyes. Miller releases Levitt, taking no care to be gentle.
“Whoa, Clarke hey,” Gabriel steadies her from falling forward, guiding her to the closest pallet. Jordan moves to make space, trading places with Niylah who’s already begun unwinding bandages to tend to the marks on Clarke’s wrists, while Gabriel examines her head. Without thinking, Bellamy gravitates towards them and suddenly the whole room shifts like a spark’s gone off.
Hope and Echo take opposite ends where Clarke lies, Octavia corners Levitt, leaving Miller and Jordan to back Bellamy against the wall, as far away from Clarke as they can get him without shoving both he and Levitt back out the door. Raven launches herself at Bellamy and against his better judgment Miller let’s her pass.
“You did this to her!” Raven screams. “You sold her out, and you let them torture her.”
Bellamy stiffens. “The Shepherd needed to know.” He insists. “It didn’t have to hurt. She made it that way.”
“We didn’t know what was going on. All we knew was that you were dead and they had Echo and Octavia. She didn’t even take a second to decide before putting herself at risk to find them. For you.” Miller pulls Raven back behind him, unwilling to take the chance if Bellamy decides to damn himself further and take a swing at her.
“So much for the hundred, huh?” He says darkly. Bellamy goes to reply but Miller cuts him off. “You hurt Clarke. You’re done here.”
Bellamy stares him down, hedges his bets and tries to move towards Clarke again. Miller, Raven, and Jordan close rank, shoving him back hard.
“Just get out of here,” Octavia demands, fixing Bellamy with an icy glare. “Both of you.”
Clarke hears the commotion, makes an effort to raise her head but Gabriel forces her to lie still. “Between Josie and whatever the hell this thing is, the fact that you are not a vegetable right now is nothing short of a miracle.” He says it softly not to antagonize the room. “So let’s try and keep it that way, alright?”
Clarke sinks back down, letting her eyes close.
“You need to trust me, I know what I saw-“ Bellamy tries to argue with them as Miller drags him toward the door.
“Go float yourself,” Raven hisses at him.
He fights hard to stay, and it takes Miller, Jordan, and Raven to finally get him against the door. Bellamy raves about the Shepherd's teachings, but his actions are entirely focused on reaching Clarke. Miller and Raven are shouting him down, and the cacophony is enough to make Clarke curl into herself in pain.
Echo moves from her spot to wrench open the door, unable to even look at the man she fought so hard to find.
“Bellamy?” Clarke’s voice is weak, but she cuts through the chaos all the same. Miller and company don’t let up on their efforts to drag him towards the door, and he acquiesces, trading his advantage to snap his gaze toward her. Clarke takes in the scene in front of her and her heart starts to break all over again. Her lip trembles and she can feel fresh tears threatening, but she forces them back long enough to say “I forgive you.”
A rush of guilt lands heavy; his family doesn’t trust him, he can’t bring them into the fold, he’s trying to protect them and instead...He’s hurt her. Clarke. He thinks back on all he heard, everything he was never supposed to hear. Everything she wanted to hide from him, for who knows how long or why. But she forgives him. She always forgives him. The overwhelming weight of that realization goes to war with his new found faith, threatening to tear him apart in the process. He doesn’t fight Miller this time, and instead flees.
Levitt takes Octavia by the hand, “I need to talk to you.” Miller gives her a look that says “your call,” so Octavia let’s Levitt pull her into the hall. He hasn’t strictly broken a rule, she’s still in a confined area, but away from the chaos of her unpredictable friends on the other side.
“The Shepherd punished her,” Levitt tells Octavia quickly. “They were memories, from Earth. But she was always alone-“
“Primfaya,” Octavia confirms.
Levitt spares a glance through the small window at Echo, still shaken from their last encounter, but swallows his fears to tell Octavia lowly. “She loves him. Or did once. And the Shepherd made him stay. Made Bellamy see all of it.”
“Bellamy you idiot,” Octavia sighs.
“But he brought her back, you showed me the night she died.” Levitt insists.
“Would you see it that way after what just happened?”
“I don’t understand any of you.” He says sincerely. “But it was too cruel a punishment for her crime.”
“Tell all her secrets because she kept just one,” Octavia says dryly. “He certainly has a flare for the dramatic.”
“I want to help you,” Levitt says quickly. “I know trusting me is…a lot to ask. But your family. It’s been broken and mended a dozen different ways and you always come back to each other. I want to be part of something like that.”
“I left you to die in a genocide.” Octavia says wryly.
“That seems to be how your people say ‘I love you.’” He replies.
Octavia smiles at that, and brushes her hand against his cheek. “Keep yourself safe,” She asks.
“They’re preparing to leave for Sanctum. I don’t know who or how many, but they’re looking for the key.”
“It’s destroyed.”
“But it was enough of a distraction to keep Bellamy alive. The Shep-Cadogen is desperate and its making him foolish.”
Octavia nods, swallowing her panic at that remark. “Give me a bit of time, and then try and come back if you can.”
*
“And here I thought Clarke Griffin could never break,” Raven says bitterly. They’d all moved to the far corner, leaving Clarke to sleep off her pain.
“She didn’t,” Gabriel corrects. “It’s amazing what her mind has endured in the last week alone.” He picks at their meager rations. “I wouldn’t want to test that theory with another round in that thing though.”
“Let me go next,” Jordan says.
“Don’t be a hero,” Echo reproaches him. “Your mother wouldn’t want that for you.” The reference to Harper is unexpected coming from her, at least to everyone but him.
“It won’t hurt me. There’s nothing I know that can help them, most of my life was just me and my parents.” He squares himself, making a decision. “And while we’re on the subject of what my mother would want, I think she’d be pretty disappointed that it took her friend all of a couple of months to slide full-tilt back into genocide as a way to deal with heartbreak.”
“At least Echo tried to do something instead of rolling over and playing dead.” Hope says, venom in her voice, her meaning plain when she looks over at Clarke’s crumpled form.
Miller steps in before it can escalate further. “That’s enough.” He shoots Jordan and Hope a warning look. “We’re all tired and we’re all pissed. But what we are not going to do,“ He says firmly, sounding very much like a parent. “Is get distracted fighting with each other when Clarke and Bellamy need us. Got it?” Jordan and Hope at least have the decency to look sheepish, but the rest just pointedly avoid eye contact with each other. “You stay up on watch with me,” Miller orders Jordan. “The rest of you get some sleep while we can.”
Octavia breaks away from the group and heads over to check on Clarke. She’s at a loss for what to say; she’d always assumed there was something going on between her and Bellamy, but everything had been such a mess for so long, she assumed they’d buried whatever it was. Especially when he came back from space with Echo. Not that she was in any position to be judging how people handled Primfaya, but she could certainly judge him for being so blind. And after what happened with Josephine, well honestly Octavia wasn’t sure how he hadn’t told Echo it was over right then and there.
“You need anything?” Octavia asked softly. Clarke was curled tight into herself, but her eyes were wide, staring into the distance, her back to Octavia. Following an instinct, she pulls a blanket from the next bed and drapes it over her gently; giving Clarke every chance to feign sleep.
“I’ll be fine,” Clarke answers softly. “I just need to sleep.” She means to be reassuring, but instead just sounds pitiful. Octavia sits on the ground behind her, knees pulled up and back to the wall, sitting vigil.
“He loves you too,” She says quietly, minutes later when she believes Clarke is already asleep. Clarke bites her lip hard, determined not to cry again. Octavia places a hand on her shoulder, a silent assurance that she isn’t alone. “If anyone can fix this, it’s you two.”
*
They had one shot to get to the bridge before Cadogen left for Sanctum. The plan was quick, dirty, and extremely dangerous, but it was the only one they had.
“Levitt will set off the alarm for an oxygen breach. That will clear the halls, but not for very long. Echo, Hope, Gabriel and Octavia will make the move for Bellamy. The rest of us move to take back the stone room. We’ll wait as long as we can.” Miller ran through the plan solemnly, Clarke standing to his side, steady, but benched by unanimous insistence. They all said nothing when she hadn’t protested, taking it as a sign things were worse than they knew.
And they were.
“We have a window when Levitt will try for it, we just have to be ready to move.” Octavia adds.
“Don’t get separated, and don’t fall behind.” Echo says.
“Your boyfriend couldn’t get us anything better to fight with than a couple of knives?” Niylah asks wryly.
“Are you still a grounder or not?” Raven quips.
The alarm sounds.
*
For some reason she couldn’t understand, Miller had formed them in a square around her. Miller on point, Niylah at the rear, flanked by Raven and Jordan. She didn’t need a protection detail. There was nothing left to take.
The lights in the hall cut out, followed by a crash. Clarke takes half a second too long to drop to the ground and the echo of the blast makes her head feel as though it might be the next thing to explode. Someone trips over her and she vaguely hears Miller shouting her name but before she can reply there’s a hand over her mouth and she’s being dragged into an alcove.
“Don’t scream, please.”
Bellamy.
Clarke tries to land an elbow into his kidney and unwind from his grasp but she’s dizzy from the pain in her head and can’t get the force behind it, and she winds up nearly falling to the ground instead.
“Stop,” He pleads with her, shifting to take most of her weight. “You’ll make your head worse.”
“Let go-“ Her voice is low and hoarse, but he claps his hand over her mouth again anyway.
“Their orders are to shoot you on sight,” He says harshly.
Clarke looks at him, a vicious stare asking why exactly he would care about such a thing, which he takes as a suitable understanding that she won’t scream when he removes his hand from her mouth.
“You’re bleeding again,” Bellamy says with a tenderness that makes her want to vomit. He reaches to graze his hand against her forehead but she smacks him away.
“Why do you care?” She hisses. It’s a petty, childish question but the only thing she can think to say.
“We can’t do this now,” He insists. “Just let me help.”
“Your help nearly got us all killed.”
“I can fix this.”
“How?” She asks incredulously.
“You said you forgave me.” He says, broken. “Was it a lie?”
That startles her, but before she can process there are hard footfalls in the hall. He puts a finger to his lips and fixes her with a pleading stare to just stay. He steps out of the alcove, leaving Clarke to lean against the wall. Even if she thought she could make it past the guards, she was in no condition to try and run.
“They scattered. Clarke ran for the Shepherd’s quarters, probably trying for an assassination attempt. That would be her play. Get everyone you can there and secure the perimeter.”
“What are you doing?” She asks when he turns back to her.
“I don’t know,” He says honestly. “I just-“ He grimaces, fighting to keep his composure. “I’m so sorry. For all of it.” Clarke’s vision blurs and she reaches for him by instinct. He catches her before she can fall, eases her gently to sit on the ground.
“We can’t stay here,” She insists.
“Just take a second,” He says, scanning the hall, mind spinning for a way out. “Here-“ He pulls a pair of restraints from his pocket. Clarke lunges forward, desperate to keep him from entrapping her.
“Stop, Clarke, listen to me.” He’s not used to explaining to her. He’s used to her knowing his decision before he’s even fully thought it himself, and being halfway through the plan of how to execute it. But he has no one to blame but himself for how out of sync they are now. Just one more thing he’ll hate himself for until the day something finally puts him in the ground.
“I can get you to the stone room, but no one is going to let me just walk by if it looks like I’m helping you.” She stares at him, searching his face with such intensity he feels like she can see the guilt written in blood across his soul. She probably can. It’s Clarke after all.
“Please let me do this,” He begs. “Let me try and make at least some of this right.”
Her head says to use her last bit of strength to angle her elbow into his throat.
Her heart holds her wrists out to him, steels itself against what she knows very well may be the break that finally shatters her, and says “okay.”
With a ship drowning in sorrows and a reputation that haunts her, Clarke commands fear across the Sea she sails. Whispers follow her across land and second glances for a bounty on her head for a power she does not possess.
When she finds a washed up sailor in a crumbling old boat with no memories, she gives him the same opportunity she gives everyone else - you stay until you give her a reason to throw you overboard.
With rumours in taverns and passing pirates about Bellamy Blake, infamous pirate who took down a British Naval ship and left his men for dead, she can only wonder - could this be the man they tell horror stories about?
Prompt and moodboard by @broashwhat kindly donated by @burninghoneyatdusk
an interview with @osleyakomwonkru (she/her)
what are you working on right now?
Several things! I’m the queen of many WIPs (let’s not even talk about the ones that are languishing in the limbo of old fandoms). But my priorities right now are my own Season 7 and the promptfills that I’m doing for Bellarke Writers for BLM (but not for Bellarke). I started working on my Season 7 fic last summer as soon as 6x13 aired because I couldn’t wait nine months to find out what happened to Octavia, I needed to answer that myself. So I spent months writing and planning and researching and compiling lore so that I could answer that question myself. Started posting it episode by episode at the beginning of 2020. Then pandemic got in the way of me finishing it before the official season 7 started airing, so right now the first 9 episodes are up, and the last 7 will be up after the official season 7 is finished. So if you want a season 7 that has a bit less planet hopping, more Bellamy, more TALKING and characters taking the time to sort through issues rather than the season 7 we’ve been having, then please check it out!
what’s something you’d like to write one day? I’d like to actually finish and publish the myriad of original works I have in a state of perpetual incompleteness. I’ve been writing stories ever since I could hold a crayon, and I’ve never stopped. But the past decade I’ve been focused on a lot of fanfic. what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? Well, I love all of my word-babies, and I’m super proud of my S7 fic as mentioned above, but outside of that series, the fic that holds a special place in my heart is “fly away to heal my broken spirit (there might be peace on the other side)”, which is an Octavia-centric character study written between seasons 5 and 6, whereupon landing on the new planet, Octavia takes off on her own and takes the time she needs to heal from the pain of her past.
why did you first start writing fic?
Well, the reasons why I first started writing fic are perhaps different than what they are now. I started writing fic when I was a child, when I didn’t even know it was something other people did, let alone something people shared with one another (this was back in the Days of Yore before the Internet, so while now I know fanfic was going on at that time, it wasn’t easily accessible). The longest fic I’ve ever written was when I was a preteen, and it was 943 pages, handwritten, and it was a self-insert RPF where I became best friends with Alanis Morissette.
Back then, I wrote fic because I wanted more stories, more adventures with the characters I loved, and in the case of that self-insert, I wanted to be a part of those adventures. But now I write fic for different reasons. Now I write mostly because I want to address the parts that canon leaves out. The parts that aren’t “exciting” for a TV audience, because they’re not full of flashy explosions and fights and whatnot, but that I want to see because they’re a vital part of the character journeys - the talking, the healing, the things that should be addressed so it makes sense to go from A to B in the storyline but tend to be swept under the rug. I’m in a fandom for the characters, so I want to see them and their thoughts and feelings addressed properly and not just get shuttled from one Plot to the next.
So as this applies in this fandom, that mostly revolves around letting characters take the time to talk to each other, to sort out their issues, stuff like that. Because after everything they’ve been through, they need this!
what frustrates you most about fic writing?
Too many ideas. I have so much I want to write, but I also don’t want to abandon projects so it hurts to have to put ideas on the backburner. Also - middles. I often know how I want a story to start and how I want it to end, but the part in the middle is always a bit fuzzier. Middles are hard.
what are your top five songs right now?
Lunatica - Heart of a Lion (perfect Octavia song!)
Icon for Hire - Supposed to Be (also a good Octavia song)
Beth Crowley - Don’t Think Just Run (ditto)
Really Slow Motion - Unbroken (same)
Miley Cyrus - Mother’s Daughter (Hope’s theme song)
what are your inspirations?
Music is a lot of my inspiration. I have an entire Octavia playlist, and Spotify is really good at recommending more songs to go on it. Spotify has the only useful Internet algorithm. Also, just those moments in canon where you go WTF and you’re like… I need to fix this. Or, “there has to be more than just this”. A lot of scenes demand more than what we saw on screen, so I’m here to provide.
what first attracted you to Octavia? what attracts you now?
I started watching t100 between seasons 4 and 5. The specific reason why I started watching was Chai Hansen (Ilian), because he’d just been cast on Shadowhunters, and he was hot, so I went looking to see where else he’d appeared and happened upon this show. So I watched some of his scenes on YouTube, and was intrigued by this chick (Octavia) he was with. Then the next scene I saw was Octavia winning the Conclave in 4x10 and making her speech of unity, and I was sold. I was all “I need to know who this girl is and how she got here”.
So I went back to the beginning, and yes, she was the one. I have A Type when it comes to fandom favourites, and she fits it to a T - the misunderstood badass with a tragic past and a dark side. Octavia Blake, Regina Mills, Magnus Bane, Eliot Spencer, James “Sawyer” Ford, Juliet Burke, they all fit that same archetype.
I just love Octavia so much, because she’s been through so much and she’s still standing and she’s grown and changed and evolved and it’s all been beautiful. Even the dark parts. Especially the dark parts. Because without them she wouldn’t be who she is now. I hate it when people say she’s “back to her old self” now. No. No she’s not. She’s a stronger, wiser and more mature version of herself, and she wouldn’t be that without her darkness or without her healing. I could go on more, but for that you can just go to my blog and read all of my meta.
BESIDES Octavia, what character or pairing do you like best on t100?
Uhhh… well, Octavia’s kind of my brand. So everything does kind of revolve around her. But I also adore Echo, Diyoza (sob!) and Hope, and I’m so glad that canon Hope is like the Hope I wrote in my S7 fic - fearless, reckless, committed to her family and questioning what makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for Bellamy Blake. I ship Niytavia, and a fair amount of my Niytavia fic is written from Niylah’s point of view rather than Octavia’s. I’ve also written some bunker-era Mackson as best friends to Niytavia, but Miller being a jerk in season 6 has kind of soured that ship for me. But after 7x10 I’m hopeful that he’ll pull his head out of his ass so that I can like that ship again, because Jackson is still all kinds of lovely.
But if we REALLY need to depart from the Octavia sphere, then Murphy’s my man. I don’t have a horse in the race as to which ship he’s a part of, because I can low-key ship him with just about everybody (even Octavia).
why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm?
Because I wanted to do something to contribute to the BLM movement, but since I live in a tiny northeastern European country and have no money, going to protests or making donations myself isn’t something I can do. But I can write words so other people donate money, so here I am!
what’s your writing process like?
I don’t have a set process. Sometimes a story just FLOWS and I’ll get it done in a few hours. Sometimes it involves a lot of throwing stuff at the wall and hoping it sticks and days and weeks of contemplation and starting to write and hoping it’ll come together at the end. Same applies regardless of what I’m writing, be it my own idea or someone else’s.
what are some things you’d like to recommend? My partner in crime in plotting my S7 epic, who I’ll message at 3 in the morning looking to brainstorm ideas, @easilydistractedbyfanfic . You want Murven? They’ve got you covered. Also, tacos, cheesy pasta, and sushi. Because food is delicious and I’d like to be in a country where I can get tacos again, so if you’re in a position to be able to eat tacos, eat tacos. They’re not available everywhere in the world.
You can find @osleyakomwonkru here on Tumblr, or you can find her on AO3 here. If you’d like to request a fic written by her, you can do so via @bellarkefic-for-blm.
still fighting for peace (along the way we’ll learn a thing or two)
Lincoln tells Octavia the story of how he met Luna, and why he left, and how that brought him to her.
“Are you - her?”
“Who is the her you seek?”
“The Natblida who fled from her conclave. Who refused to fight for the position of Heda.”
“Why is such blood important to you? Is it not enough that we all disavow violence? Do you need confirmation that even someone raised with violence in their blood can renounce it before you can?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I admire such strength, that’s all. The strength to resist that which your blood is telling you, the strength to resist that which society tries to make you. The strength to choose one’s own destiny.”
The woman stepped closer, her eyes traveling up and down Lincoln’s body as she did. “You consider that strength?”
“I do.”
“Well then, welcome to Floukru, Lincoln. I’m Luna.”
My first promptfill for @bellarkefic-for-blm! This one is for @id-do-it-for-free-babe who requested a story that had Lincoln telling Octavia about his past with Luna, including the dropped canon thread of Luna being Lincoln's ex-fiance. I hope you like it!
