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31. (the 100) our house is crumbling under me;
our house is crumbling under me, part six.
If the Ark has taught Bellamy anything, it's that good things never last. If the ground had reinforced any lessons, it's that one.
He doesn't have a tent. The idea of packing one and wasting time putting it together to only deconstruct it is a waste to him. Sleeping on a blanket in the open is something he's become used to, even in the presence of Grounders.
They make their own camp by the outskirts of the woods, near the tree Raven had taken to leaning against for a moment of respite. She'd chosen it for a reason, he guesses, and he supposes it's only right that he doesn't take her too far from the area she deems to be safe for her.
"You don't have to stay," she says, sitting on her blanket before dropping onto her back. Her hands fold against her chest as she looks up at the night sky. "I'm fine with my friends."
Bellamy smoothes down the corner of his blanket with his boot before he sits. "What friends?"
Raven rolls her eyes before she points toward the stars. "My friends," she repeats. She opens her fingers, reaching for them, as if she can capture them within her hand and bring them to her chest. Letting her hand rest against her collarbone, she keeps her gaze on them. "They're the only ones who have always had my back. I used to stare obsessively out that big window sometimes. I told myself I'd touch them one day." She turns to face him, a proud grin brightening her features for the first time in days. "I did."
"That's cool," he says. He plants his hands flat against the blanket and stretches his legs out. Peering up at the stars, all he sees are tiny dots, and sometimes the cluster of culled bodies. "The fact you made your wish come true. It's something Mom always said. Wish upon a star with a pure heart and you'll get what you wanted."
"Your mom sounds great," she says. When he looks at her, she's staring up at the stars, looking content and almost at peace, despite the conversation at hand dropping stones onto his heart. "I'm sorry, you know. When it happened, I felt so bad."
Bellamy thinks to stay quiet, and he does, for a few moments. His brows pinch just as he feels his eyes prick. He's tired. It's been a long few days. Even he can admit he's felt emotionally and mentally drained. He wants to run as fast and far from this conversation, but he finds his feet are standing still.
He looks to her and finds his voice is as hushed as the night itself, "Why?"
"No one deserves to die for being a good person," she says quietly. "For being capable of loving more than yourself." She presses her cheek against her blanket. He thinks she's going to apologise again and so he looks up at the stars instead, wanting to deter her. "I was told that when someone dies, they become a star. That the brightest one I see is that person, waving at me."
He looks at her, noticing how she purposefully turns her head to look at the stars. She laughs quietly, more at herself than from mirth. "It sounds so stupid —"
"It doesn't."
She turns to look at him, the upward curve to her mouth softer. "I want to think Finn's the bright star for me." Her voice becomes quieter, barely audible, "But I know it's not true."
Bellamy thinks she's wrong, but it isn't his place to say anything. Grief can turn even the brightest of constellations into the darkest and plainest of meteor rocks.
Instead, he sighs, shifting, ensuring the grass beneath his blanket makes some noise with his shuffling. "You should get some sleep." Bellamy lies down, arms tucked beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. He looks up at the stars, rather than at her. "We've got more shit to deal with tomorrow."
He thinks she rolls her eyes, but he doesn't know. He falls asleep easier than he has in a long while.
He awakens, probably as soon as his eyes close, and he finds himself walking along the tips of the stars in the sky. A hand is shaking him, Octavia's voice pulling him from following her along the Milky Way. "Bell, Bell." Her fingers are strong, her nails sharp, as they dig into the fabric of his jacket. "Wake up!"
He blinks and pushes himself up onto his elbows. "O?"
"It's Raven," she says, voice panicked. It cracks and he notices there's tears in her eyes. "Something's happening."
Bellamy pushes himself up quickly and to his feet, Octavia following suit from her crouched position. The sleep of his voice scurries away as his brows furrow, and he feels anger swell inside of his chest, trying to drown out the panic. "What's wrong?"
Octavia opens her mouth before closing it, shaking her head. Her words tumble into a heap as she speaks hurriedly, "I don't know. She came to me, saying she wasn't feeling well — She just collapsed. She's not responding to me, Bell."
"Where's Abby?" He turns his foot on his blanket, scrunching it up and dirtying it, and searches for Raven. But it's hard to see when the world is cloaked in darkness. "Where's Clarke?"
Octavia wraps her fingers around his wrist and pulls him away from his makeshift campsite. She's sleeping a little further into the camp, blocked from his view by Abby's tent. When she pulls him along the path she'd taken, feet slipping against the wet ground, he sees Raven lying on her side, on the top of Octavia's blanket, with Lincoln pressing his hand against her forehead.
"She's cold," he says, looking up. He opens his mouth, hesitating, looking to Octavia before his eyes settle on Bellamy.
"What is it?" Octavia looks between them desperately.
"She drank something they gave her," Bellamy sighs, aggravated. His eyes narrow as his brows pinch, trying to remember the last few hours. "Maybe bad water?"
Lincoln looks down at Raven. "It's poison."
Octavia's hand grips his wrist tighter. Bellamy thinks to ask How do you know? but Lincoln's their expert in toxic substances during Monty's absence. It's a stupid question to ask, one that Bellamy doesn't waste any time on.
His wrist slips from Octavia's grasp as he marches so powerfully to the divide between camps the world seems to shake underneath him.
Lexa's standing with Clarke, the two talking. The Commander looks untouched, unworried, just like a Grounder has always appeared to him. When Clarke turns to face him, her eyes are red and her cheeks glisten in the firelight.
"You —"
Clarke moves to block him from advancing upon Lexa. The Grounders stand to attention, some of their hands moving toward their weapons while others glare at him. It's as sharp as an axe to the head, but Bellamy doesn't flinch.
Pressing her hands against his chest, Clarke applies some force behind her attempt to halt him. "Bellamy —"
"I'm done," he says, looking over Clarke's shoulder as he glares at Lexa. "Fix this or it's over."
Lexa merely blinks, like she's unaffected by the series of events that have begun to unravel. "You don't have any —"
"I don't take orders from you," he says, moving forward to feel Clarke push against him. He stays where he is, feet pressing so hard into the ground he may as well grow roots there. "You either get the the cure or you tell me who did this."
"I don't know," Lexa says calmly.
"We're trying to figure it out, Bellamy," Clarke whispers. When he looks down at her, she's peering up at him earnestly. He knows she wants him to stop, but Bellamy's a hurricane, refusing to cease for anyone.
"And how long is that going to take? Talking has gotten us nowhere."
"It got us here," Clarke says. He thinks to ask To this? To not trusting one another? but he finds his anger eats it away, using it to fuel him to be consumed by fire and burn hotter than even the sun itself. Clarke's voice quietens, "We need this alliance."
"No we don't, Clarke. We're strong on our own."
"We need them."
"And we need Raven alive." His hands ball into tight fists, his blunt fingernails threatening to pierce the skin of his palms. "How many times do they have to try and kill her before you pull your head out of your ass, Clarke?"
She flinches, but Bellamy doesn't feel a ping of remorse for how sharp his own tone is.
"They're savages," he says, looking over her head to glare pointedly at Lexa. Her shoulders move, as if she's trying to armour herself against something that hurts. Good, he wants to say, I'm glad it hurts. "They're not people, Clarke. We're stupid for even believing they are."
"I'll find who did this," Lexa says. She stands tall, but Bellamy thinks she looks so small. "I promise you."
He takes a step forward, pushing up against Clarke. "Your promises mean nothing to me."
"That's —"
"No." Bellamy glares at Lexa. He doesn't realise he's shouting, but he can hear the crack in his own voice, the exhaustion tainting it. "No. We've done it your way. We lost one of our own. We lost a friend, just like you." He lets that sit for a moment, though it's not on purpose. He needs a moment to simply breathe before he starts breathing fire once more. "We're still grieving. We're still trying to process what he did to your people. We don't condone what he did. But if you're expecting me to stand here and ignore what you have done, then this alliance is just as useless as I thought."
"Bellamy," Clarke pleads.
He spins on his foot to look at her, his own voice cracking as his expression breaks from stern to rubble. "No, Clarke. I told you we did it their way and I'm done." He looks back to Lexa, expression shifting into hard and cold stone once more. "You get me that cure or I'll start putting a bullet into every joint of your people. You last."
"Blake!" he hears Kane's voice echo, but he's not the Chancellor anymore. He's no one but a man hellbent on securing his post of power. He can't even catch the words he wants to use to bring this battle to a quick and diplomatic end, simply staring at Lexa who remains as a statue before them all.
His people, regardless of what they may think of him turning into a hurricane, still stand behind him, though, as his shadow, as his own army. No one thinks to speak up. A part of Bellamy knows no one wants to.
The Grounders' hands remain on their weapons, standing tall and ready to strike. He can feel the heat of Lexa's gaze press hard against him, assessing him, trying to discern how serious he is. If he had a gun in his hands, if he even had taken a moment to think to grab his, he'd shoot the ground at her feet to show her how serious he is.
She turns to face her side of the camp, speaking in the native tongue of her people. Her voice is sharp and loud, the tone of a leader, as she surveys her people and stares them down instead.
He's tense for what feels like decades, standing in the one spot with Clarke's hand pressed against his chest. His heart beats so rapidly, so fast and heavy, that he doesn't hear anything for the hour that passes.
He thinks to go back to Raven, but with O and Lincoln flanking her sides, he knows her to be well-protected from any more danger thinking to strike at her with a thousand knives.
Kane approaches him. He feels his hand on his arm, but Bellamy doesn't hear him. He doesn't even remember acknowledging him.
He isn't so sure of how much time passes, if Clarke even flinches or grows tired of trying to keep him in place, but eventually he hears Lexa bark in her language, a man with thick shoulders and a jaw that could cut stone, walks over the invisible divide of their camps and is escorted to Raven with Kane keeping a sharp eye on him.
The blonde woman with the neat braids and the man with the clean face are forced to their knees in front of him. She spits at the ground by his feet.
"Gustus is dead because of you!" she screeches. Her voice is so high, so fractured, and so thick with emotion that he isn't surprised when he looks upon her face, high cheekbones and brilliant green eyes, that she's crying. "Sky People! This alliance will kill us all."
Lexa's hands are curled tightly around their shoulders, causing the two Grounders to wince. The man remains mute, just as the woman bows her head, gritting her teeth. He can hear her crying quietly.
Lexa nods toward him, "We'll deal with this accordingly."
Bellamy looks up at her. He thinks to say No, you won't and insist they punish her people, just as she had insisted on Finn falling to the hand of them. But the Sky People aren't as cruel in their methods, aren't as callous and built to become detached to those they tether themselves to. Floating had been hard. Floating had been easy. Space and the lack of oxygen had done all the dirty work for them. All Chancellor Jaha had to do was push a button.
Maybe it hurts them more, having to kill one of their own, having to punish their own people. Out in space, there's no sound. The moment those doors open, it's finished. There's no scream, there's no begging. He understands a thousand cuts is a torture inflicted upon traitors, but he's beginning to wonder if it's meant to torment the person holding the blade.
He thinks to take it out of their hands, just to spite them, but then he remembers he isn't a Grounder. He isn't that type of Grounder.
Lexa looks down for a moment, appearing more as a girl than a leader. "I'm sorry," she says. She glances up at him. "I am. We want this alliance to work."
"I don't care about your alliance," he says, shaking his head. His voice is still hard and acidic, even in the face of sincerity. "I care about you leaving her alone."
He pushes away from Clarke, almost pushing off of her, as he stomps his way back toward Octavia's little camp. Against the fires, Raven looks pale. She shivers, like she's locked in some feverish dream, but with Abby hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against her temple, he thinks she must be alright.
Bellamy doesn't ask or think as he bends down to scoop Raven up into his arms. She's weightless, unmoving, quiet and unlike herself without a quip prepared, but he doesn't linger on it. Leaving her by herself had seen her believe the best in the Grounders who had only ever saw her and approached her with the worst of intentions.
She isn't cut. She isn't bleeding. He doesn't hesitate to move her to somewhere more private, where she isn't a spectacle or a sight to be pitied.
"You can have my tent," Abby says, and she moves to pull it open for him. He carries Raven inside, lying her down on Abby's blankets. She's asleep, still feeling feverish to the touch, but her skin is a little warmer against the back of his hand. "I'll make sure no one disturbs you, but I'll come in and check on her every half hour." She closes the tent flap, leaving them be.
Bellamy sits on the ground beside her, knees drawn up and arms resting on his kneecaps, and he simply waits there, watching the shadows move and dance against the fabric of the tent.
It isn't until a few hours later he feels a brush against his shoulder. He's lying down, still watching the shadows, when she reaches out to touch him. "Hey," she says weakly.
"Hey," he sits up. "How are you feeling?"
"Super," she says, rubbing her eye. "Like I just got poisoned by a Grounder again. What are the chances, huh?"
"We're dealing with it," he says. "Trust me."
Her voice is quiet, but her stare is as loud as a clap of thunder. "You don't need to tell me that, dumbass."
"I'll go get Abby." He makes a move to get up, but her hand extends out to stop him.
"No," she shakes her head. "She's been coming in every five minutes asking me the same question over and over." He settles, reluctantly, into his sitting position. Her hand doesn't move from his arm. "Just lie with me. It'll make me feel better someone else isn't sitting up."
He nods, slowly lowering himself to the blanket inside of Abby's tent.
She takes her hand back, slowly and weakly, or maybe it's on purpose, wanting to ensure that he's real. He finds he doesn't mind. Being able to feel her move rather than lie still and quiet calms him.
He thinks they'll remain quiet, presuming Raven's content to not hear her own voice, but her request is so quiet it startles him, "Tell me about the other guy, the hero who saved Andromeda."
"Perseus?" Bellamy shrugs his shoulders as he continues to look up at the canopy of Abby's tent. Tucking his arms behind his head, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. She's peering at him, looking at him as though he's a star in the sky. "He stopped in the Aethiopia kingdom, the one that Andromeda was the princess of."
"I can't pronounce that."
"I can't spell it," he says. Her smile is so small, so he thinks to continue. His words are slow. "I guess he must've heard what was happening, because the oracle of Ammon told King Cepheus he had to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster. He saved her. Slew the monster. Didn't even know her."
He feels weight against his chest. When he looks down, he sees how she's rolled onto her side to rest her head against his chest. Bellamy doesn't think to say anything. He doubts she even knows what she's done. But her hand presses flat over his shirt and she remains still.
He doesn't stop, though, hopefully not noticeably. "Some of the stories say he flew Pegasus, a horse with wings. Others say he used flying sandals, sort of like what Hermes wears." He remembers she probably doesn't know about him. "He's the god of travelling. Flying shoes help with that."
Her hand shifts against his chest just as her leg slides over his, hooking him to her.
"Andromeda had been promised to Phineus. He didn't like that she married Perseus in the end. But I guess she liked a man who actually got off his ass and saved her when she was bound to a rock and tossed away like she meant nothing to a sea creature." He feels his shirt become wet, and as tempting as it is to look down at her, Bellamy keeps his gaze on the ceiling of the tent.
"Phineus was invited to the wedding. He and Perseus got into a bit of a fight, so, Perseus won that by turning Phineus to stone." He feels her shake and hears her shift, but he says nothing. "Medusa was a woman who was punished for breaking a vow of celibacy to Athena, the virgin goddess, and so she was transformed from a beautiful maiden to a terrible monster with serpents for hair. Looking directly at her could turn you into stone." He moves his arms from beneath his head, letting a hand rest against his chest as the other wraps around her. His fingers curl around her bicep.
He can hear the amusement in his own tone, regardless of how light it may be, "He made for a great wedding present."
She laughs wetly before she even moves, wiping at her eyes. "Were they happy?"
He pauses. He thinks to say No one in the Greek stories is ever really happy. But Andromeda had been tied to a rock, sacrificed to a sea monster, and had made a life for herself that she seemed to be happy with. She had survived, and he thinks that maybe that's all that really matters.
"Yes."
She breathes out, "Good."
If the Ark has taught Bellamy anything, it's that good things never last. If the ground had reinforced any lessons, it's that one.
He doesn't have a tent. The idea of packing one and wasting time putting it together to only deconstruct it is a waste to him. Sleeping on a blanket in the open is something he's become used to, even in the presence of Grounders.
They make their own camp by the outskirts of the woods, near the tree Raven had taken to leaning against for a moment of respite. She'd chosen it for a reason, he guesses, and he supposes it's only right that he doesn't take her too far from the area she deems to be safe for her.
"You don't have to stay," she says, sitting on her blanket before dropping onto her back. Her hands fold against her chest as she looks up at the night sky. "I'm fine with my friends."
Bellamy smoothes down the corner of his blanket with his boot before he sits. "What friends?"
Raven rolls her eyes before she points toward the stars. "My friends," she repeats. She opens her fingers, reaching for them, as if she can capture them within her hand and bring them to her chest. Letting her hand rest against her collarbone, she keeps her gaze on them. "They're the only ones who have always had my back. I used to stare obsessively out that big window sometimes. I told myself I'd touch them one day." She turns to face him, a proud grin brightening her features for the first time in days. "I did."
"That's cool," he says. He plants his hands flat against the blanket and stretches his legs out. Peering up at the stars, all he sees are tiny dots, and sometimes the cluster of culled bodies. "The fact you made your wish come true. It's something Mom always said. Wish upon a star with a pure heart and you'll get what you wanted."
"Your mom sounds great," she says. When he looks at her, she's staring up at the stars, looking content and almost at peace, despite the conversation at hand dropping stones onto his heart. "I'm sorry, you know. When it happened, I felt so bad."
Bellamy thinks to stay quiet, and he does, for a few moments. His brows pinch just as he feels his eyes prick. He's tired. It's been a long few days. Even he can admit he's felt emotionally and mentally drained. He wants to run as fast and far from this conversation, but he finds his feet are standing still.
He looks to her and finds his voice is as hushed as the night itself, "Why?"
"No one deserves to die for being a good person," she says quietly. "For being capable of loving more than yourself." She presses her cheek against her blanket. He thinks she's going to apologise again and so he looks up at the stars instead, wanting to deter her. "I was told that when someone dies, they become a star. That the brightest one I see is that person, waving at me."
He looks at her, noticing how she purposefully turns her head to look at the stars. She laughs quietly, more at herself than from mirth. "It sounds so stupid —"
"It doesn't."
She turns to look at him, the upward curve to her mouth softer. "I want to think Finn's the bright star for me." Her voice becomes quieter, barely audible, "But I know it's not true."
Bellamy thinks she's wrong, but it isn't his place to say anything. Grief can turn even the brightest of constellations into the darkest and plainest of meteor rocks.
Instead, he sighs, shifting, ensuring the grass beneath his blanket makes some noise with his shuffling. "You should get some sleep." Bellamy lies down, arms tucked beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. He looks up at the stars, rather than at her. "We've got more shit to deal with tomorrow."
He thinks she rolls her eyes, but he doesn't know. He falls asleep easier than he has in a long while.
He awakens, probably as soon as his eyes close, and he finds himself walking along the tips of the stars in the sky. A hand is shaking him, Octavia's voice pulling him from following her along the Milky Way. "Bell, Bell." Her fingers are strong, her nails sharp, as they dig into the fabric of his jacket. "Wake up!"
He blinks and pushes himself up onto his elbows. "O?"
"It's Raven," she says, voice panicked. It cracks and he notices there's tears in her eyes. "Something's happening."
Bellamy pushes himself up quickly and to his feet, Octavia following suit from her crouched position. The sleep of his voice scurries away as his brows furrow, and he feels anger swell inside of his chest, trying to drown out the panic. "What's wrong?"
Octavia opens her mouth before closing it, shaking her head. Her words tumble into a heap as she speaks hurriedly, "I don't know. She came to me, saying she wasn't feeling well — She just collapsed. She's not responding to me, Bell."
"Where's Abby?" He turns his foot on his blanket, scrunching it up and dirtying it, and searches for Raven. But it's hard to see when the world is cloaked in darkness. "Where's Clarke?"
Octavia wraps her fingers around his wrist and pulls him away from his makeshift campsite. She's sleeping a little further into the camp, blocked from his view by Abby's tent. When she pulls him along the path she'd taken, feet slipping against the wet ground, he sees Raven lying on her side, on the top of Octavia's blanket, with Lincoln pressing his hand against her forehead.
"She's cold," he says, looking up. He opens his mouth, hesitating, looking to Octavia before his eyes settle on Bellamy.
"What is it?" Octavia looks between them desperately.
"She drank something they gave her," Bellamy sighs, aggravated. His eyes narrow as his brows pinch, trying to remember the last few hours. "Maybe bad water?"
Lincoln looks down at Raven. "It's poison."
Octavia's hand grips his wrist tighter. Bellamy thinks to ask How do you know? but Lincoln's their expert in toxic substances during Monty's absence. It's a stupid question to ask, one that Bellamy doesn't waste any time on.
His wrist slips from Octavia's grasp as he marches so powerfully to the divide between camps the world seems to shake underneath him.
Lexa's standing with Clarke, the two talking. The Commander looks untouched, unworried, just like a Grounder has always appeared to him. When Clarke turns to face him, her eyes are red and her cheeks glisten in the firelight.
"You —"
Clarke moves to block him from advancing upon Lexa. The Grounders stand to attention, some of their hands moving toward their weapons while others glare at him. It's as sharp as an axe to the head, but Bellamy doesn't flinch.
Pressing her hands against his chest, Clarke applies some force behind her attempt to halt him. "Bellamy —"
"I'm done," he says, looking over Clarke's shoulder as he glares at Lexa. "Fix this or it's over."
Lexa merely blinks, like she's unaffected by the series of events that have begun to unravel. "You don't have any —"
"I don't take orders from you," he says, moving forward to feel Clarke push against him. He stays where he is, feet pressing so hard into the ground he may as well grow roots there. "You either get the the cure or you tell me who did this."
"I don't know," Lexa says calmly.
"We're trying to figure it out, Bellamy," Clarke whispers. When he looks down at her, she's peering up at him earnestly. He knows she wants him to stop, but Bellamy's a hurricane, refusing to cease for anyone.
"And how long is that going to take? Talking has gotten us nowhere."
"It got us here," Clarke says. He thinks to ask To this? To not trusting one another? but he finds his anger eats it away, using it to fuel him to be consumed by fire and burn hotter than even the sun itself. Clarke's voice quietens, "We need this alliance."
"No we don't, Clarke. We're strong on our own."
"We need them."
"And we need Raven alive." His hands ball into tight fists, his blunt fingernails threatening to pierce the skin of his palms. "How many times do they have to try and kill her before you pull your head out of your ass, Clarke?"
She flinches, but Bellamy doesn't feel a ping of remorse for how sharp his own tone is.
"They're savages," he says, looking over her head to glare pointedly at Lexa. Her shoulders move, as if she's trying to armour herself against something that hurts. Good, he wants to say, I'm glad it hurts. "They're not people, Clarke. We're stupid for even believing they are."
"I'll find who did this," Lexa says. She stands tall, but Bellamy thinks she looks so small. "I promise you."
He takes a step forward, pushing up against Clarke. "Your promises mean nothing to me."
"That's —"
"No." Bellamy glares at Lexa. He doesn't realise he's shouting, but he can hear the crack in his own voice, the exhaustion tainting it. "No. We've done it your way. We lost one of our own. We lost a friend, just like you." He lets that sit for a moment, though it's not on purpose. He needs a moment to simply breathe before he starts breathing fire once more. "We're still grieving. We're still trying to process what he did to your people. We don't condone what he did. But if you're expecting me to stand here and ignore what you have done, then this alliance is just as useless as I thought."
"Bellamy," Clarke pleads.
He spins on his foot to look at her, his own voice cracking as his expression breaks from stern to rubble. "No, Clarke. I told you we did it their way and I'm done." He looks back to Lexa, expression shifting into hard and cold stone once more. "You get me that cure or I'll start putting a bullet into every joint of your people. You last."
"Blake!" he hears Kane's voice echo, but he's not the Chancellor anymore. He's no one but a man hellbent on securing his post of power. He can't even catch the words he wants to use to bring this battle to a quick and diplomatic end, simply staring at Lexa who remains as a statue before them all.
His people, regardless of what they may think of him turning into a hurricane, still stand behind him, though, as his shadow, as his own army. No one thinks to speak up. A part of Bellamy knows no one wants to.
The Grounders' hands remain on their weapons, standing tall and ready to strike. He can feel the heat of Lexa's gaze press hard against him, assessing him, trying to discern how serious he is. If he had a gun in his hands, if he even had taken a moment to think to grab his, he'd shoot the ground at her feet to show her how serious he is.
She turns to face her side of the camp, speaking in the native tongue of her people. Her voice is sharp and loud, the tone of a leader, as she surveys her people and stares them down instead.
He's tense for what feels like decades, standing in the one spot with Clarke's hand pressed against his chest. His heart beats so rapidly, so fast and heavy, that he doesn't hear anything for the hour that passes.
He thinks to go back to Raven, but with O and Lincoln flanking her sides, he knows her to be well-protected from any more danger thinking to strike at her with a thousand knives.
Kane approaches him. He feels his hand on his arm, but Bellamy doesn't hear him. He doesn't even remember acknowledging him.
He isn't so sure of how much time passes, if Clarke even flinches or grows tired of trying to keep him in place, but eventually he hears Lexa bark in her language, a man with thick shoulders and a jaw that could cut stone, walks over the invisible divide of their camps and is escorted to Raven with Kane keeping a sharp eye on him.
The blonde woman with the neat braids and the man with the clean face are forced to their knees in front of him. She spits at the ground by his feet.
"Gustus is dead because of you!" she screeches. Her voice is so high, so fractured, and so thick with emotion that he isn't surprised when he looks upon her face, high cheekbones and brilliant green eyes, that she's crying. "Sky People! This alliance will kill us all."
Lexa's hands are curled tightly around their shoulders, causing the two Grounders to wince. The man remains mute, just as the woman bows her head, gritting her teeth. He can hear her crying quietly.
Lexa nods toward him, "We'll deal with this accordingly."
Bellamy looks up at her. He thinks to say No, you won't and insist they punish her people, just as she had insisted on Finn falling to the hand of them. But the Sky People aren't as cruel in their methods, aren't as callous and built to become detached to those they tether themselves to. Floating had been hard. Floating had been easy. Space and the lack of oxygen had done all the dirty work for them. All Chancellor Jaha had to do was push a button.
Maybe it hurts them more, having to kill one of their own, having to punish their own people. Out in space, there's no sound. The moment those doors open, it's finished. There's no scream, there's no begging. He understands a thousand cuts is a torture inflicted upon traitors, but he's beginning to wonder if it's meant to torment the person holding the blade.
He thinks to take it out of their hands, just to spite them, but then he remembers he isn't a Grounder. He isn't that type of Grounder.
Lexa looks down for a moment, appearing more as a girl than a leader. "I'm sorry," she says. She glances up at him. "I am. We want this alliance to work."
"I don't care about your alliance," he says, shaking his head. His voice is still hard and acidic, even in the face of sincerity. "I care about you leaving her alone."
He pushes away from Clarke, almost pushing off of her, as he stomps his way back toward Octavia's little camp. Against the fires, Raven looks pale. She shivers, like she's locked in some feverish dream, but with Abby hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against her temple, he thinks she must be alright.
Bellamy doesn't ask or think as he bends down to scoop Raven up into his arms. She's weightless, unmoving, quiet and unlike herself without a quip prepared, but he doesn't linger on it. Leaving her by herself had seen her believe the best in the Grounders who had only ever saw her and approached her with the worst of intentions.
She isn't cut. She isn't bleeding. He doesn't hesitate to move her to somewhere more private, where she isn't a spectacle or a sight to be pitied.
"You can have my tent," Abby says, and she moves to pull it open for him. He carries Raven inside, lying her down on Abby's blankets. She's asleep, still feeling feverish to the touch, but her skin is a little warmer against the back of his hand. "I'll make sure no one disturbs you, but I'll come in and check on her every half hour." She closes the tent flap, leaving them be.
Bellamy sits on the ground beside her, knees drawn up and arms resting on his kneecaps, and he simply waits there, watching the shadows move and dance against the fabric of the tent.
It isn't until a few hours later he feels a brush against his shoulder. He's lying down, still watching the shadows, when she reaches out to touch him. "Hey," she says weakly.
"Hey," he sits up. "How are you feeling?"
"Super," she says, rubbing her eye. "Like I just got poisoned by a Grounder again. What are the chances, huh?"
"We're dealing with it," he says. "Trust me."
Her voice is quiet, but her stare is as loud as a clap of thunder. "You don't need to tell me that, dumbass."
"I'll go get Abby." He makes a move to get up, but her hand extends out to stop him.
"No," she shakes her head. "She's been coming in every five minutes asking me the same question over and over." He settles, reluctantly, into his sitting position. Her hand doesn't move from his arm. "Just lie with me. It'll make me feel better someone else isn't sitting up."
He nods, slowly lowering himself to the blanket inside of Abby's tent.
She takes her hand back, slowly and weakly, or maybe it's on purpose, wanting to ensure that he's real. He finds he doesn't mind. Being able to feel her move rather than lie still and quiet calms him.
He thinks they'll remain quiet, presuming Raven's content to not hear her own voice, but her request is so quiet it startles him, "Tell me about the other guy, the hero who saved Andromeda."
"Perseus?" Bellamy shrugs his shoulders as he continues to look up at the canopy of Abby's tent. Tucking his arms behind his head, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. She's peering at him, looking at him as though he's a star in the sky. "He stopped in the Aethiopia kingdom, the one that Andromeda was the princess of."
"I can't pronounce that."
"I can't spell it," he says. Her smile is so small, so he thinks to continue. His words are slow. "I guess he must've heard what was happening, because the oracle of Ammon told King Cepheus he had to sacrifice Andromeda to the monster. He saved her. Slew the monster. Didn't even know her."
He feels weight against his chest. When he looks down, he sees how she's rolled onto her side to rest her head against his chest. Bellamy doesn't think to say anything. He doubts she even knows what she's done. But her hand presses flat over his shirt and she remains still.
He doesn't stop, though, hopefully not noticeably. "Some of the stories say he flew Pegasus, a horse with wings. Others say he used flying sandals, sort of like what Hermes wears." He remembers she probably doesn't know about him. "He's the god of travelling. Flying shoes help with that."
Her hand shifts against his chest just as her leg slides over his, hooking him to her.
"Andromeda had been promised to Phineus. He didn't like that she married Perseus in the end. But I guess she liked a man who actually got off his ass and saved her when she was bound to a rock and tossed away like she meant nothing to a sea creature." He feels his shirt become wet, and as tempting as it is to look down at her, Bellamy keeps his gaze on the ceiling of the tent.
"Phineus was invited to the wedding. He and Perseus got into a bit of a fight, so, Perseus won that by turning Phineus to stone." He feels her shake and hears her shift, but he says nothing. "Medusa was a woman who was punished for breaking a vow of celibacy to Athena, the virgin goddess, and so she was transformed from a beautiful maiden to a terrible monster with serpents for hair. Looking directly at her could turn you into stone." He moves his arms from beneath his head, letting a hand rest against his chest as the other wraps around her. His fingers curl around her bicep.
He can hear the amusement in his own tone, regardless of how light it may be, "He made for a great wedding present."
She laughs wetly before she even moves, wiping at her eyes. "Were they happy?"
He pauses. He thinks to say No one in the Greek stories is ever really happy. But Andromeda had been tied to a rock, sacrificed to a sea monster, and had made a life for herself that she seemed to be happy with. She had survived, and he thinks that maybe that's all that really matters.
"Yes."
She breathes out, "Good."