Can you please write a fic around this? Please??? PLEASE? Roan: okay so look this whole treaty things it's just not working out. Bellamy: what can I do to fix it? Roan: well a marriage might fix things Bellamy: ...Roan: between you and Clarke. Roan: and some heirs. Roan: and to make the alliance official make me the godfatherRoan: they can call me 'cool uncle roan'
so this is tweaked a bit to be more ‘marriage of convenience + bellarke babies’ and you can also thank this pic for inspo
wc: 4.7k because i obviously have no life
Despite all that they’ve been through, Clarke has never really hated Roan.
When he was her kidnapper she was more scared than anything, and then soon he became an ally in the snake pit that was Polis. Sure she might not agree with everything he does, but she’s come to have a soft spot for the man, especially after he agreed to trade with them even though the Ice Nation hated the Sky People.
The treaty that resulted from that alliance was another story however.
“Most Azgeda alliances are sealed with a contract,” he tells them, staring them down across the table.
“Anything,” she says. It had been a long couple of days in the Ice Nation. Snow had been amazing at first, but then the novelty soon wore off, and Clarke hates having to wear several layers of clothing each day. She is anxious to get back home, and from the way Bellamy keeps on drumming his fingers against the empty holster at his thigh, she can tell that he is too.
Roan lifts an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so fast, Wanheda,” he says smoothly, ignoring the way the title made her flinch. He nods at his guards positioned around the room.
Clarke and Bellamy share a look as they clear out.
“Most Azgeda alliances are sealed with a… certain kind of contract,” he explains once it’s just the three of them left in the chamber. He narrows his eyes, his gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them. “A marriage.”
They both go stiff at that, and almost unconsciously Clarke finds his hand beneath the table, squeezing it.
“A marriage,” she repeats, tongue feeling like cotton in her mouth.
If Roan notices the complete 180 in their demeanours, he says nothing. “Yes. Usually the child of the clan’s leader. Sometimes even that leader themselves.”
The muscle in Bellamy’s jaw twitches, and his hand tightens around hers.
“However, there have been some… special circumstances in the past,” he goes on, staring intently at Clarke.
She swallows. “What kind of circumstances?”
“If a leader has no children and is already promised to someone else,” he replies, and then his eyes pointedly slide from her to Bellamy who hasn’t so much as moved since the bomb was dropped. She feels her stomach clench. “If that’s the case then we can still choose to move forward in the alliance. The binding would just be a little bit trickier.”
“So if I was… promised,” she says, testing the feel of the word on her tongue as she chanced a glance at Bellamy, “Then we could still go through with this whole thing?”
She lets out a gust of air and turns to face him properly. For once his eyes aren’t guarded and she can see the hardened determination that graced his features. If this is what you need me to do, I’ll do it, he seems to say, and Clarke squeezes his hand under the table again, letting her thumb brush over his knuckles. Meeting his eye once more, she gives him the tiniest of nods before turning back to face Roan, who continues to watch the whole thing impassively.
She has to clear her throat twice before she can speak.
“I am promised to someone,” she tells him.
Roan doesn’t seem surprised. If anything he seems amused. “Is that so.”
Clarke nods and then lifts their joined hands to rest on the table. “Bellamy and I are to be married in the spring.”