it's cold and hard and petrified

mikaelshake  asked:

Bellarke, role reversal. Bellamy as the 'Prince' of the Ark and Clarke as the rebel leader.

Oh yay! I actually might want to continue this, if people want more!

Her hand around the metal bar flexed as she spoke, daring his royal highness to tear his eyes from hers and acknowledge who held the power here.

“We’re on the ground now,” she practically purred, reveling at the freedom of the notion, “your kind doesn’t rule down here.”

Bellamy bit back the urge to yell at her, instead choosing to try and reason with her. “And what makes you think you get to decide what happens here, Clarke?” 

“I don’t get to decide, sire,” Clarke spun around, lifting the metal bar to the gathered crowd, leveling it before each of their hundred- ninety-eight- faces, “they decide.” She turned back to him. “We decide.”

Cheers erupted around them, and Clarke’s pretty face was marred by a challenging smirk. Helplessness Bellamy had only experienced once before coursed through him, manifesting in his shifting feet and clenching jaw. He didn’t have time for this. They, the rest of the humans now on earth, didn’t have time for this. If he ever wanted to see his sister again, he needed to relay back to the Ark that Earth was hospitable.

Their home in the sky was dying and unless its inhabitants could follow the group of criminals and ne’er-do-wells down to Terra Firma, everyone aboard the Ark- Octavia included- would suffer the horrible effects of oxygen deprivation and cease to exist.

And Clarke Griffin, miscreant daughter of a seamstress and Lord knows who, stood in his way, threatening everything that mattered.

"Clarke,” he took a step towards her and spoke quietly, almost hissing his words in urgency, “if those still in space don’t hear that earth supports life, they are all going to die. Your mother included.”

Whatever affect he hoped to achieve with that last sentence evaporated quicker than her amused expression.

“Let me tell you something, Prince. Bellamy. Blake,” she punctuated each word of his name with a sharp jab to his chest. “I don’t care if the whole damn sky ceases to exist if it means my mother will fade away along with it.”

Something akin to sadness flashed behind her eyes, but a tic in her temple drew his attention. “My mother is the reason I was in confinement for four years. She is the reason I’m here today. To hell with her. It’s only fair,” her voice dropped to just a light breeze, “since that’s where they sent us.”

Confused, Bellamy regarded her carefully, trying to gauge if the abundance of oxygen was messing with her head.

"I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. You don’t get to be sorry. I know how your kind work, Blake. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

On that note, Clarke donned a smile- a fake one, he learned, for the dark shadow still lingered in her eyes- and allowed one of the other boys to swoop her up in his arms and swing her around in a boisterous dance.

“We are the sinners,” she sung at the top of her lungs. A chorus of voices repeated her yell, egging her on. “They sent us to hell to die,” she roared, thrusting the metal rod into the air. “So let’s dance on our graves tonight!”

The forest shook with the elated hooting and hollering of the group, and Bellamy took that opportunity to retreat back to the dropship, in hopes that the radio was intact. He rubbed at his wristband mindlessly as he fiddled with wires and toggles, hating that he only paid half a mind to the engineering courses he had been forced to take.

“Comm. won’t work,” an all too familiar voice stated behind him, some time later.

He didn’t bother to turn around as he replied. “And how do you know that, Clarke?”

“Because,” she began solemnly, shoving a crude jug of water his way, “the Ark is fine. Everything is fine up there.”

Hesitantly, he accepted the water, and when it hit his lips, Bellamy saw stars. Who knew water could taste so delicious- who knew water could taste anything?

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything down here..?”

She sighed heavily, and for the first time, he saw something other than defiance in her. “Do you know why I’m down here?” He shook his head, and she pursed her lips, nodding slowly, accepting this fact. “I’m down here… because my father managed to capture an errant satellite before it careened into our orbit. Instead of sending it to Scrap, he kept it.”

Clarke paused, a pained expression on her face. 

“We fixed it up, put a remote controlled op lens on it and sent it back out on a garbage release. I like to draw you see, and my dad… he wanted to let me see the earth closely, even if I couldn’t be there. Let’s just say, I saw more than I needed to see.”

Cold panic lanced its way up Bellamy’s spine in response to the bitter edge she had affected. Something big was being kept from her words, but its mark coated every last one of them.

“What did you see?”

Moisture pooled in her eyes, and Bellamy swallowed hard. This was not the same girl that led a band of demons in a dance earlier.

“I don’t want them to be scared,” she admitted, gesturing towards the entrance of the dropship. “But I’m petrified.”

He was starting to think that confusion was something people generally felt when talking to Clarke. “The air is breathable, there isn’t a glass parking lot or any mutated animals as far as I can tell. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“We’re not alone, Bellamy. The people here… they sent us to die.”

Suddenly, everything made sense.

He would never see his sister again.

I’m sorry. I touched the midnight sky and fell in love, but when dawn came and I was separated, I lost myself. (I know it makes no sense to you but I’m a puzzle piece you need to fit together to read, I always have been.) I went on a road trip without grabbing your hand and taking you along for the ride, and it was selfish, it was cruel, but you were my map and I needed to get lost on this journey. I’m sorry, its hard to ask for help and make you concerned because god you were so happy, I can’t change that, I can’t stop that. (You’re my best friend, I love you, and to stunt your growth so that I can become tall is selfish, and weak.) But when the purple skies arose I realized I hadn’t been doing much good being gone, but to get back I needed my map. But my hands are cold and I am dazed– just petrified I’ll hurt you again. I’m sorry. I am empty. I am scared. I am alone– and I don’t want to be, but I don’t know how to get back. I love you, I’m sorry.
—  I’m trying to ask for help but I feel like a leech, a.c.