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She walks out of Lexa’s tent, her hands shaking. Somehow, with the commander’s surprising grace, she’s bought the lot of them another day. Her mother and Raven and Monty and Kane and Miller… and Bellamy.
The bodies are being carefully lined up, arms crossed so their hands lie over their hearts, having been cleaned and prepared for funeral pyres. The ones Bellamy left lying in a field. (The ones he argued to save, her heart whispers.)
Clarke always thought she and Bellamy had been honest with each other, but her head still rings with the words he kept inside for too long.
You left me.
People die when you’re in charge.
This is who I’ve always been.
I’m sorry, too.
Her hands curl, nails digging into her palms in an attempt to cancel out the remembered feel of his warm, sure touch. For a moment - just a moment - she’d thought they could do it, could fix it together. The way they always have.
His hands had tightened but his eyes had stayed fixed on hers, and she hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was too late. His hands have never been a threat, not really, not since the very beginning when he caught her in that pit. He’s used them to save her, to soothe her, to embrace her and to set her free.
And even when he'd put those handcuffs on her, when he'd hauled her towards Pike’s office, his hands never hurt her. Clarke looks sightlessly back at the outline of camp. How could his hands be so gentle but his eyes so angry and cold?
“So what now?” Octavia interrupts her thoughts, striding over from where she was helping move the dead. “What happens now, Clarke?”
They've rarely seen eye to eye. Clarke had been surprised at the help from Octavia, until she saw for herself how far Bellamy had gone down this road.
“The commander has - she has agreed not to seek vengeance.” Clarke says it softly, almost worried that the dead will hear this last indignity.
Octavia is quiet, absorbing. “I fucking hate this. Politics. He never would have gone if you'd been here.”
Clarke’s hands fist but her voice stays steady. “I know.”
Those months in the woods had saved her, given her the space to breathe again and the ability to care once more. But they had come at a higher price than she'd ever suspected.
“He feels so goddamn responsible,” Octavia continues. “Cares. Too much. But that means he doesn't really listen to us when he sees danger. He only ever listened to you.”
Clarke is startled into defending him. “No, he's not - well, he wasn't so deaf to everyone else.”
“He saw us as kids, Clarke. Me especially. Somehow never you, though.” They stand in silence for a few moments, and then one of Lexa’s crew gestures Octavia over. She straightens. “When this is over, and I can look at him without wanting to puke, I'm gonna kick his ass. Try to keep him alive so I can?”
Then she's gone.
Lexa's armies arrive in force the next day, ringing the Arkadia walls hundreds deep in every direction. They want blood, not peace. The commander makes Pike sweat for three days, staying just outside the range of his guns, lighting up the night sky with their torches, and then every morning sending Clarke to the gate with her terms.
The first day they don't open at all. She yells her message up to the guard in the tower who refuses to acknowledge her beyond a rifle sighted at her chest. She is brave until she turns to walk away. Then her hands sweat and she wonders if this is how she will end, face down in the dirt because her own people were too afraid for peace.
The second day she approaches to find someone standing outside the gate. Bellamy .
“Where is my sister?” His fingers are white knuckled on the gun he's aiming slightly over her shoulder.
“Safe. With Indra, helping her recover.” She waits until he meets her eyes. “She is worried about Lincoln.”
He grimaces and throws a hand up in the air. Clarke tenses, but keeps her eyes on his. There's safety there, no matter how angry he is.
The gate creaks open and he looks regretful for a moment before he controls his expression once more. “Pike says she can have him back.”
Out stagger the sick, the wounded who had been in the infirmary. Lincoln is carrying one, supporting another. Their eyes meet and he nods grimly. Clarke is sickened, and thrusts the list of terms into Bellamy’s hands so she can help. His fingers hold her there for an instant and she glances back at him in angry question.
And then he's Pike’s guard again, heading back inside the gate with only that slight pressure of his fingers on hers to remind her of her friend.
On the third morning it's Kane outside the gates. Clarke is both disappointed and relieved to see him there.
“I have terms,” she starts, but he waves her off.
“We all heard them last night. Monty Green rigged up a PA system and Abby read them out.”
Clarke’s heart is in her throat. Monty. Mom. “Are they ok?”
“Spent the night in a cell, but the damage was done. They're generous terms, Clarke. I'm surprised the commander would agree.”
“So am I. She might still change her mind, but,” Clarke looks over her shoulder at the army held silent at Lexa’s command, “I don't think she will.”
He nods, thoughtful. Still, he’s not wearing any mark of leadership - not even in a guard uniform. He’s here without a gun. Clarke has to ask.
“Will Pike agree?”
“No. He will never willingly align with grounders.” But Kane smiles. “Between the sick being thrown out yesterday and the peace terms, his hold on Arkadia is slipping. They've called for an emergency vote.”
So Kane will be chancellor after all. Suddenly it feels very important that she make something clear. “Listen, Bellamy didn't - he argued for the wounded, he saved Indra. He didn't want this.”
Kane's smile turns sad. “A part of him did.”
She looks up, blinking away tears that have unexpectedly dimmed her vision. There are still guards up in the tower, but their guns are not pointed at her today.
“When should I come back?”
“Give us a few hours to count the votes,” he says. “Mid afternoon.”
In the end, Pike loses for the same reason he won: fear. This time, Arkadia is afraid of what will happen if the peace is rejected. Kane spends the afternoon in Lexa's tent. Clarke does not join them. Instead she stands to the side and watches as one by one, Arkadians slip through the gates to take their place among those honoring the 299 dead Trikru. Her mother hugs her, but does not linger. Monty and Miller do the same, on their way to Octavia and Lincoln’s side.
Bellamy doesn't come. When Kane and Indra and Lexa emerge to perform the final rites, Clarke stands in the shadows fighting relief and worry. Afterward, Kane invites them inside. Most decline, but a few brave souls follow Clarke and Lexa and Lincoln and Indra through the gates.
When she glances up, the guard tower has just one face looking down at them. He doesn’t meet her eyes and she knows he is looking for someone else. But Octavia has stayed outside the walls.
The welcome is subdued. Kane gives a quiet speech about balancing safety and humanity, and Lexa speaks second. Her words are fiercer, but just as reassuring.
“You fell through the sky to come here and were met with blood and anger. It is right that you claim some piece of this world as your own. I have worked my entire life to form this alliance, to bring the clans to peace. I welcome your fierce defenders as well as your diplomats. I ask that you defend this peace.”
The moonshine tastes like sand in her mouth, but Clarke drinks the toast. She has been waiting for three days for what comes next.
“Under the terms of the peace given to us in Polis,” Kane says, “the Commander would have been within her rights to attack with no warning and no mercy. She has given both, and peace besides. You all heard her terms, and the vote was decisive.”
There is murmuring, and Clarke finds herself edging back toward the gate. Kane’s voice carries, thanks to Monty’s new sound system.
“She asks only for us to judge those who participated in the massacre, and to keep our peace. I ask Farm Station to step forward.”
She can see the torches now, through the open gates. But that is not her destination. The guard tower doesn’t have a door, just steps up to the platform. They creak beneath her feet.
He’s sitting alone, staring out into the night.
“Bellamy.”
He doesn’t turn, but she can see his shoulders droop. He’d probably hoped she was his sister.
Kane’s judgement echoes faintly even to this far point. They both listen.
“Farm Station, you have been welcomed home joyously. You have endured much and lost many. You were not part of our negotiations or governance, and we understand that. You will each be sent, along with one volunteer from Arkadia, to one of the 12 clans. You will live with them for two months, learn their language and their needs, and return to report. If you instigate any violence, you will be judged per the laws of the clan.”
Bellamy shudders. Clarke wants to weep, knowing what it would cost him to leave them all behind.
The announcement ends, and Farm Station are led away. A few yell, most are stoic and silent. Clarke can see Monty’s mom hugging her son before following them to the cells and she knows who one of the volunteers will be.
Kane turns toward the tower. They’re out of time.
“Bellamy, listen.”
“No, Clarke. Don’t waste your breath.” He turns toward her, fierce and hurting, haunted and stern. “I earned this.” His voice breaks and he finishes in a hoarse whisper. “We went too far.”
“Bellamy, you tried. Even then, even when you thought it had to be war, you tried to save the wounded. Indra told us.” The words tumble out, she can hear footsteps on the stairs now. They are coming for him. “I know you. That wasn’t you.”
It’s just three long steps for her to cross the platform to him. She mimics his position of three days earlier, crouching in front of him. Her hands slide into his with a rightness that she’s only starting to understand. Lexa’s words come back to her and she understands them better now than she had, standing in Polis with a knife in her hand.
“I left. But Bellamy, I-I never meant to turn you into this.”
“Clarke.” Kane’s voice is sad. Her hands tighten on his but he has already looked away, over to the small group that has come for him. “We need him to come with us.”
Lexa is watching her, considering. She knows that look by now, the blank face with the narrowed eyes. The commander bends to Kane and speaks quietly enough that Clarke cannot hear. Nervous, and maybe a little protective, her hand falls to Bellamy's shoulder. She must squeeze because he looks up at her.
“It’s all right, Clarke.” His voice is flat, resigned. She wishes Octavia had come.
He stands, then, and hands Clarke his guard jacket. He leaves the gun leaning against the platform wall.
“You heard the terms?” Kane asks him. Bellamy nods and starts toward the stairs. Clarke stands there, clutching his jacket, and knows he won’t look back.
His curly head disappears, then the two guards, then Lexa. Kane hesitates. “Clarke?”
She shakes her head. He leaves her.
Some time later, she’s not sure how long, there are footsteps again. Quiet and halting. She scoots closer to the gun Bellamy left.
But it’s Monty’s shaggy head that clears the platform, and just like that they’re holding each other, devastated in a way that needs neither words or tears.
They sit side by side as the camp goes to sleep, tucked under Bellamy’s jacket in the cool night air, watching Lexa’s party wend its way back up the hill, hearing the gates slide shut. But no guard comes to displace them.
When everything is finally quiet, he lays his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. I’ll volunteer, of course. To go with her. But what if it only makes it worse? What if she thinks she has to protect me and… does something?”
She has no answer. He isn’t expecting one.
It’s Abby who wakes them in the morning. She’s got breakfast and a tight, pinched look on her face. “Honey, they’re looking for you. For both of you. It’s time.”
Clarke looks out at an army that is packing up to leave. She had nominated herself as ambassador to Polis, but for the first time she questions whether she is the right person for the job.
People die when you’re in charge. He isn’t innocent of that. But he isn’t wrong either.
She follows her mother down the stairs and almost stumbles over Raven, who’s half asleep on the bottom step, a gun in her lap.
“Raven,” her mother starts, “your leg won’t thank you for-”
“Just stop, Abby.” Raven pulls herself to her feet. None of them offer help. She might shoot them if they did. She turns to Clarke once she’s upright, her lips white with ignored pain. “Thought you two needed some time. Gently suggested the guards find somewhere else to hang out. Good work, Clarke.”
Clarke bites the inside of her cheek. Raven looks awful, lonely and hard and hurt. “It’s good to see you, Raven. Take care -” she sees the closed off look sliding onto Raven’s face and changes tactics mid-sentence, “of the others for me? It’s going to be a long two months.”
“Yeah, ok.” It’s clipped, but they can all see her square her shoulders. Raven with a mission is unstoppable.
Monty just hugs her. There’s a closeness there that Clarke envies. One that she gave up when she walked away and stayed away.
They leave Raven standing in the sunshine. Clarke hopes she hasn’t just broken another of her friends with her burden.
The meeting room is packed when they arrive. Kane nods to several seats in the third row and they slip in quietly.
“We are here to decide who the volunteers accompanying Farm Station on their peace missions will be.” His voice is calm, even. Somehow his face holds no anger. “I appreciate so many people coming to offer their help in this matter.”
“This is bullshit! You’re sending them to die!” Clarke turns and catches a glimpse of man several rows behind them.
“No, Roy,” Kane shakes his head. “I’m sending them to learn another way.”
The 12 clans have sent representatives, and they stand on one side of the room, backs to the wall. Clarke supposes she’d be nervous to trust Skaikru too.
Kane reads each of the sentenced names, one by one, and the volunteers raise their hands. Some people have several, and Kane asks each a few questions before choosing someone. Mrs. Green has just one hand, Monty’s, and no one questions him.
Once the volunteer is decided, they are summoned individually to learn the name of their compatriot. Their clan is assigned and the representative introduced. Then they leave, the three of them.
Monty goes with the representative from the Boat Clan and Clarke watches him leave, hoping that she hasn’t just seen him for the last time. There are only two names left for Kane to read. The representatives from Azgeda and Trikru stand quietly.
“Charles Pike.”
That’s a surprise. Clarke would have assumed he’d be the last name called. She also would have thought that sending him somewhere far away would be better. No hands go up. Kane does not look surprised.
“Former Chancellor Pike has declined our terms and encouraged the rest of Farm Station to do the same. Thankfully, they did not agree. Since he will not agree to the justice according to the peace treaty, he will be interned until the 2 month period is over. After that he is to be stripped of all rank and authority, prohibited from wearing any weapons or leaving the confines of Arkadia until he agrees to serve the sentence.”
There is grumbling from Roy and some of his compatriots, but everyone starts filing out of the room at Kane’s nod. Clarke stays glued to her seat, confused. She sees Miller hesitate, too, his farm station boyfriend beside him.
Kane waits until the room is mostly clear. “Bellamy Blake. Without his help, the original effort would never have procured guns or stirred up the level of fear needed to win the first election. But it has been noted that he argued, several times, for mercy.”
Clarke’s hand shoots up. She can feel Miller and her mother staring. She has made commitments, promised herself as ambassador in Polis. But this is her fault, and she has to fix it.
Kane smiles and nods. “Bring him in.”
“Marcus,” her mother starts, but trails off when Bellamy joins the room. The Azgeda and Trikru representatives are still there, standing quietly.
“Bellamy, with Clarke Griffin as your volunteer, you are remanded to the care of Trikru. Per the orders of Indra and the commander, you will join Clarke in Polis. You will leave now.”
Their eyes meet in shock. Bellamy looks tired, overwhelmed. Clarke knows that this is what Lexa had decided last night in the tower. She stands, and glances back at Miller who’s smiling in a wry sort of way. He shrugs as if to admit that he wasn’t needed after all. She shakes her head in thanks.
She’s heading over to the Trikru representative when Kane speaks one more time.
“Abby, if you’re sure?”
Clarke turns in time to see her mother nod and walk toward the Azgeda representative with an outstretched hand.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“Since Pike declined to join Azgeda for the next two months, Abby will be making the trip voluntarily,” Kane explains. “She’ll be joined by Bryan, who volunteered to me this morning.”
He nods back at Miller who has turned in shock to the boy at his side.
“You were willing to go. I should be, too.” Bryan kisses Miller quickly, then goes to stand beside Abby and the Azgedan representative.
“Don’t worry,” her mom says to the two of them, Clarke and Miller, who are stunned and motionless, “we’ll be fine.”
Then Bellamy’s hand is on her arm and they’re moving and out of the corner of her eye she sees Kane sit next to Miller and her mother’s group fall into place 10 feet behind them. Clarke’s not sure she can breathe.
“Don’t pass out now, Ambassador Griffin.” Bellamy’s voice is still flat. But there is concern in the way his fingers hold her elbow. “You’ve got an audience.”
Their Trikru escort announces their names and assignment to the gathered Arkadians and Grounders. Lexa nods her acceptance, the only change in her expression when she meets Clarke’s eyes and raises a single brow.
But you care about him the most.
She knows Kane sees this as a gift, a kindness. And mostly, it is. But Lexa also knows that in bringing Bellamy to Polis, she has direct access to one of Clarke’s greatest weaknesses. The other one is calmly waiting to be announced by her Azgedan escort.
One fell swoop and Lexa’s mercy has caged Clarke more neatly than any trade treaty or war declaration could have.
It's peace, she tells herself as they move to the caravan. Bellamy is searching the crowd for Octavia. Clarke suspects she's already taken Lincoln and left.
It's peace, even if it feels a bit like war. She stays in arm's reach of Bellamy the whole ride, and wills her heart to believe it.