Brave Princess - A Bellarke Story

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

Clarke:

I barely sleep tonight. I close my eyes and see only blood, Murphy's blood soaking the ground. Red coats my eyelids as I squeeze them shut.

I relive it all.

"Are you afraid yet, Princess?" Murphy had asked me, his lips forming a twisted grin. The knife in his hand glinted menacingly.

"Never," I had told him, but my voice cracked at the end. I was weak, so very weak. My terror blinded me.

Murphy grinned. "Don't lie to me, princess."

"Don't call me that." I remember vaguely a sense of pride washing over me then. I was proud that at least some harshness had returned to my voice.

Murphy had let out a chuckle, a dark tremor that shook the very ground I stood on. "Anything for you. I don't think the king would appreciate my being disrespectful."

"I doubt it, Murphy," I had said, trying desperately to form any kind of plan. My thoughts were clouded in my fear. I was too scared to think.

So when the knife flashed and he made for my ankle, my mind registered his movements at the last moment. I leaped out of the way and tumbled to the forest floor, rolling over into a crouch.

Murphy roared.

My throat formed the war cry before my mind registered the sound. My fists were in his face before I felt his bones breaking, crunching beneath my fingers.

I didn't notice his awful, guttural groans. Blood coated my knuckles, a terrible mix of the blood of murderers. His and mine.

And then the knife had slipped from his fingers, clattering to the forest floor. A loud silence hung in the air. The wind stopped blowing. The trees stopped moving.

Murphy blinked. Swallowed. And he had begged, pleading for his life with his eyes.
I knew where to kill him immediately. I had been trained to heal on the Ark, but I was also taught to take away life.

Murphy was gone in an instant.

And I became a murderer.

Darkness is all I see at first. But then I can make out Bellamy's face above mine, and can feel his hands on my cheeks. His voice calls me out from the awful dream.

"It's over," he whispers, sitting up and pulling me into his arms. "I'm here."

He doesn't tell me it will be okay. Nothing is ever okay. Not on the ground. Here, we have found only pain. Suffering.

Bellamy is wise, I realize, as I lay sobbing in his arms. He doesn't recognize pain by blood. Or death.

Bellamy has learned quickly. He doesn't have to look too far to find what he looks for. One look into my eyes tells him all he needs to know.

I love him for it.

"What am I going to do?" I manage to ask after a while.

Bellamy is wise. He knows what I speak of.

"We won't tell him," he says slowly, looking at me deeply.

I search his eyes for pity, but find none. He is filled instead with a beautiful reassurance. My heart pounds loudly in my throat.

"We should lie?"

He shakes his head slowly. "No. We will tell him. Just not now. We need the army."

I draw a shaky breath, nodding to reassure myself. "We need the army," I say, repeating his words. But a sudden realization clogs my throat. "I killed his son."

He takes my hands in his, just as he did on the first night in the drop ship. "It was self defense, Clarke."

I sob. Won't listen to reason. "I killed his son."

"Clarke," Bellamy begins slowly, rubbing his thumbs over my hands. "It was kill or be killed." He pauses, and I hold my breath before he speaks again. "You had to do it."

I tremble. Sob. Whisper. "I killed his son."

He holds me as I cry. Bellamy is wise. And so he says no more.

AN: Hello again! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. It was quite emotional, and I really wanted my writing to give the characters the justice thy deserve.

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