Aug 29, 2015
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I'm Hannah and my birthday is April 29th :)
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41 with Bellarke :)
"You did all of this for me?"
_____
Clarke took a steady breath out, but the shake in her throat vibrated with evidence to what she was feeling. With the war out of her hands and the remaining 40 safe at Camp Jaha, Clarke could finally take a breather alone. Of course, not by herself per say. One of Lexa’s people guarded her nearby, hopefully away from earshot. She wanted this to be as intimate and personal as it could get.
Her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from running up and down the smooth carve of wood that laid on a giant rock; steady and strong, just like him. Clarke smiled at the memory of Bellamy’s face when she asked him to meet her the dropship. He was never one to just accept, but then again, neither was she, and wasn’t surprised when he looked concerned, asking questions in a quiet voice. She conveyed as much as she could in her gaze before making her way there, her guard behind her.
But the longer she waited, the shorter her smile stretched across her face. Clarke glanced down at her fingers and rubbed them lightly. The remaining splinters were stuck deep into her skin, and she knew she’s gonna have to pick the skin to dig them out. She could hear the wood scrape off with her knife, feel each tiny twig stab her without mercy. The sound of Raven’s laughter when she requested her help caused her cheeks to redden. She remembered thinking, ‘God this was such a stupid idea!’
But this was Bellamy. He would like what she made him. She hoped.
Her eyes twinkled as Bellamy came into view, his small pack hitched over his shoulder and scars deep and permanent on his face. She hid what she made underneath a dirty rag and stood to greet him.
"I didn’t want anyone like Jasper to see this," was the first thing she said to him.
Bellamy’s lips quirked to the side. “Should I be concerned?”
"That depends on what you do with it." She gestured towards the rag and an obvious object beneath it. "Go ahead."
Bellamy daintily peeled away the rag and let it fall away. Clarke bit her lip to stop the smile from showing her teeth. The breathily sigh Bellamy produced however made her fail miserably.
He picked up the smooth bow, amazed at the flat surface in the middle, and played with the string attached at each end. It made a bong noise as he tested it. Bellamy glided his hand over the object then, gripping it in his palm.
Clarke looked at the freckles on his face, and the smile that made his eyes squint. He laughed as he ran both hands around the length of it, and let out a breath. “Wow.”
On queue, Clarke reached out and dropped one of many arrows from its quiver. “You also have fifty of these. Octavia had given me at least twenty from the grounders. Raven made the other ten. They’re from metal. Not as sharp as your axe, but it’s…” Her throat went dry at the way Bellamy looked at her. “What?”
He held up his bow. “You did all of this for me?”
Clarke felt her cheeks warm. ”I thought you deserved something from what I put you through. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, Bellamy.”
Bellamy licked his lips. “And you made me a bow.”
Clarke’s fingers twitched. “Do you like it?”
She stood frozen as Bellamy’s free hand grazed the scar on her face. He didn’t pry his eyes away as he bent his forehead onto hers. For a moment, all was quiet. Peaceful.
(And when Clarke took a breath out, steady and confident, so did Bellamy.)
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