Brave Princess - A Bellarke Story

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Bellamy:

Our boots hit the floor, and suddenly all the humor is gone from our group. The rest have stopped laughing, and gave up joking. At least they have some sort of human qualities.

I want to get her away. I need to give her what she deserves. She deserves a proper funeral. I'm sure by now my eyes are bloodshot. Blinking hurts. Living hurts.

Any one of these people could attack me right now, and I would give in. I wouldn't be able to fight back. But . . . Clarke. I would for Clarke.

Her face remains unchanged, even in death. I swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that linger in my eyes. I look over her as we start down the stairs, as if seeing this scene with another's eyes.

And then.

Her tongue darts out of her mouth, running along her pale lips.

I almost stop on the stairs.

Instead I keep moving, trying to contain my surprise. I push back all doubt I have. I can't live without her. And maybe I won't have to try. I clutch her tighter to my chest.

"Again," I mutter under the cover of a sigh.

I stare at her face, waiting. Hoping that what I saw wasn't a product of my own imagination. And she presses her lips together, like she always used to when she was angry.

I inhale sharply.

The man behind me notices, because he asks me if I'm okay. I tell him I am, because it's the truth. Clarke is alive. I won't ask why. I don't think I want to know. But I have something to work for now, something to believe in.

--

They put the bodies in another cart, one that has to be taken outside by someone later. They make me put Clarke in the cart, with those bodies.

"I'll come back," I tell her softly.

And there, where they can't see her, she reaches up a hand to mine and squeezes. I clutch it in mine tightly, my hands shaking. Her eyes open then, and I stare into the blue. She nods once, like she did when I closed the drop ship door, and she releases my hand.

I step away from the cart, forcing myself to not look back, because I will come back for her. I will get them all out.

"That's it, boys," someone says. "We should let them rest."

His words anger me. Let them rest? They forced these people to rest. And Clarke would have been one of them if she hadn't managed to get herself out alive.

No one in the group argues with the man. There are a few hurried farewells, and then the group splits up, each man going to different areas.

I turn and walk up the set of stairs we just came down with one other person. He's far ahead of me. I follow him to the top of the stairs, where he abruptly turns a corner and walks down a hallway without looking back.

With his back toward me, I open the door to the stairs and run back down them. My feet fly on the metal. I have to get her out of there. I swing open the door and jog through it, my movements rushed and desperate.

There's the cart. It hasn't moved. My heart leaps in my chest, and I run to it. Clarke's eyes are closed, and she is still. And then I realize she doesn't know who I am.

"Clarke." I whisper her name, and her eyes open.

She doesn't say anything. She just gives me a sad little smile as her eyes fill with tears. She stretches her arms up to me, and I grasp them, reveling in the feeling of her skin. She's alive, and it shows. I don't speak either. I'm barely controlling my tears.

I grab her waist and lift her out of the cart, bringing her away from the bodies. The pale gown she wears is thin, and I can't help but wonder how we're going to get her new clothes.

"Bel," she whispers shakily. It's all she manages, but it's enough for now.

My hands don't move from their place on her waist. She lifts her pale hands and places them lightly on my arms. She's so close. I don't think I can control myself any longer. Clarke is alive. And I need to feel her lips on mine.

"What's this?" Someone asks behind us.

I turn and face the man I have been following this whole time. Apparently he has been following me too. I let go of Clarke and step in front of her. I'm hoping she will see what I am already planning--an escape.

I clear my throat. "This one stretched out her hand to me as I was walking by." Not exactly a lie, but the man doesn't seem to believe it. "I got her out of the cart."

The man raises his eyebrows. "I guess you should take her back now, then." His words are slow and forceful. "They could use some more time on her."

It takes all of my willpower to not kill him now. "Alright," I say stiffly. I turn around and face Clarke. I can only hope she sees the look in my eyes, and understands. I grab her forearm. "Come with me."

The man follows us. We're almost at the stairs when I let go of Clarke, and in one quick motion, I pull my gun out and ram the butt into his temple. The man drops to the floor. "That should hold him for a bit. We have to go before he wakes up and calls someone."

Clarke nods, and I have no doubt that she did understand the look I gave her.

"How are we going to get the kids out?" She asks suddenly, her brow furrowed and lips pressed together. "These people will die if we open a door."

"We'll figure something out," I tell her, stepping closer and putting a hand on her shoulder. "For now, let's get away from him." I gesture to the man lying unconscious on the floor.

Clarke nods. And then, as we turn to walk away, her face lights up in recognition. "The reaper tunnels," she says suddenly.

"The what?"

"There's no time to explain," she says, waving my question off. "Just trust me."

"I do," I tell her, my voice tinged with emotion.

She turns to me, brushing her hair away from her face. "Good," She says after a while. "Then follow me."

She starts to walk off, leaving me behind. We were so close then too. But her eyes--they were deep and haunted. I can't help but wonder what happened to her. What did they do to her?

But now is not the time to ask. It's not the time to hold her, or kiss her. We don't have enough time. And if things keep building up like this, with the war and the mountain men, I'm afraid we never will have time.

Clarke stops in front of me. "Are you coming?" Her voice is pained, and her eyes are deep. They're blue, but they are dark. She is haunted.

"I am," I tell her, jogging to catch up.

"I will."

AN: Hello! What did you think of Clarke? What do you think happened to her? I hope you caught the promise Bellamy keeps making at the end. I thought that would be a nice ending.