Could you write something about Bellarke? Maybe Bellamy telling Clarke what happened to him in Mount Weather? I love your drabbles, keep writing! :)
// Thank you sweetie - for the prompt and the kind words! And please don’t mind if this sucks a bit, my first The 100 drabble and all haha
The walk back from Mount Weather was long - eight hours, to be exact - but somehow felt much longer now, with all the injured, breathless, traumatized people all around. There was not much chatter around Clarke, but she could hear occasional murmurs that were not quite enough to shake Clarke from her own thoughts, from her bitter, stunned thoughts. Lexa had done it: abandoned them, for a deal she made with Dante. I made this deal with my head, not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first. May we meet again.
Lexa’s words were like little knives in her brain, feeding her anger. She felt her fingers clenching into fists, her breathing getting ragged. I’m sorry, Clarke. They weren’t a part of the deal. Every letter fed her guilt, and slowly Clarke wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. Her blue eyes searched the people around her, stopping to examine some for a few moments. Raven was somewhere around the line of consciousness on Wick arms, her eyes half-way open, her fingers gripping the front of Wick’s shirt. Clarke could see how tired - no, exhausted, ready to collapse on the ground - he was, but it was clear that there was no way in hell he would let Raven from his arms. Instead Wick seemed to pull her even closer, closing his eyes.
“You okay, Princess?” Even though Bellamy’s voice was quiet, he managed to surprise Clarke. She nearly flinched and turned around to see Bellamy catching up to her, taking a few light jogging steps. “Yeah, fine,” she answered and shrugged, giving him a crooked smile. Bellamy was glad to see her smiling - even if the smile was quite forced. A soft silence set between them, being broken by the quiet footsteps and Raven’s low groan.
“What about you?” Clarke finally said, looking up to meet his eyes with hers. Bellamy let out a short laugh, nodding a few times. “Yeah, beyond awesome,” he answered, looking directly into her eyes and smiling a bit more warmly and more truly than before. “Bellamy, I mean it. Are you okay?” Her words were as surprising as a slap across the face, and for a moment Bellamy stared at the trees, not sure how to answer. He was not okay, not alright. How could he ever describe what it had been like, how could her ever admit that he’d probably have nightmares for the rest of his life? How could he admit that he was wrecked, broken, just trying to gather up his pieces?
“I’ll... I’m not okay. But I will be. I’ll be just fine,” he answered, circling around the truth like a scared little child. “It’s tough, you know? To know that they’ve been doing that to people for years - taken so many innocent lives. Tortured them, killed them. Once you go through it, there’s... There’s no coming back.”
Clarke pursed her lips together and stared at her feet, counting every one of her steps in her mind. After twenty steps, she opened her mouth: “Bellamy, you - no one’s expecting...” Her words seemed to fail her miserably. “You’re the reason we’re alive, Bellamy. And there’s no way in hell many of us will ever know what it was like in there, but we know that you’re the reason these people are alive,” Clarke said, a saddened smile playing on her lips, “ but you got in there. You saved them. I knew you would, I always did.”
Bellamy looked at the blonde-haired girl next to him, trying to figure out what to answer to her words. Maybe there was no way to answer verbally, right? Maybe it was just good to have someone somehow understand how you’re feeling, maybe that’s all he needed. So, instead saying anything, Bellamy took her hand in his and took a deep breath: it felt like he could actually breathe for the first time in a million years. “Thanks, Princess.”
