Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Over the commotion of everyone else in the courtyard, his low voice called to me. He had always anchored me, brought me back to earth. I shook my head vehemently, but he was instantly by my side, his hands cradling my tear-stained face. I saw the flicker of recognition. He knew it was me. 

"You don't have to be Clarke, if you don't want to," he said softly, his brow creased in confusion.

"I'm not," I whispered, my voice breaking in unison with my heart. "I'm not her." 

It didn’t really matter though. Even without Cage’s order to tell him who I was, without my mouth betraying me, spilling the words I tried to hold back, he already knew. And even worse, he defended me to Cage despite my lies. 

 "Ask her then, why she is here, unmarried and obviously living in squalor, dressed like a common maiden," Cage snarled, baiting him. 

 He turned to me, his brown eyes wide. "You're not married?” He asked. “Why did you lie to me?"

 "Please don't make me answer that question," I begged, anticipating what words would follow, and the piercing pain in my head and my chest that would make me want to destroy the thing I treasured most.

 He frowned, more confused with every exchange, "I’d never make you do something you don’t want to, you know that.”

 There had been so many things in my life that I hadn't wanted to do. I became the person I needed to be to survive. But if I did what Cage had ordered me to do, it wouldn't be survival anymore. Killing the man I loved would kill me too. 

 The rest of them stood and watched our strange display. Only half understood my babbling and nobody realized Cage's end game. Nobody saw the dagger that he had placed in my left hand.

 I could do this. I could push him away again, this time for good. Forever.

 "If you value your life," I said coldly, "you'll leave without any more questions, Bellamy." My voice broke again at his name.

 His knights stepped in, suggested they should heed my request. He only shook them off. I begged them to leave. Cage spewed out more orders. 

 "Clarke, even if that letter was a farce, did you never love me? Tell me, did you love me?" 

 An order. I obediently replied. 

 "I did," I whispered. "I do."

Chapter Text

The Woodworker

“Go on then, tell us your story the way Sir Jake would have told it.”

An order.

A harmless one, but an order nonetheless.

 “Perhaps I’ll wait until you interrupt me once more.” I gave Maya a teasingly harsh glare and ignored the dull throb in my temples that urged me to obey. I was supposed to be telling my mother and godmother how the crown prince and I had ended up standing in our foyer after my father's funeral, both of us wetter than drowned rats.

 “You met him once as an infant, you know,” she grinned. “ Before you were a cheeky teenager.” She was crouched over the butcherblock counter, her hands busy with the manor’s dinner preparations, already having changed into her kitchen dress and apron. “Sir Jake loved re-telling the story of meeting the young Prince at your christening and how you pulled his hair till he cried. And oh, did he cry.”

Although Maya could pass for my sister, she was actually older than my grandmother’s grandmother. My family was what they called Friends of Fae. My mother and I were thought to be the last two humans in the kingdom with fairy blood in our veins. Maya, my real life fairy godmother and very distant cousin had served as the godmother (and cook) for my mother, my grandmother, and her mother before that. When I was born, Maya cared for me when my mother and father went away at the same time. My father was one of King Marcus’ most trusted knights, and my mother was a talented healer. They were away often.

 I settled myself on my stool and rearranged the sage green dress that I had changed into after a long bath following this morning's antics. My hair was still wet, and my mother reached over to wipe away a smudge of dirt that I'd somehow missed. Her face looked tired as she rested her lithe frame back against the doorframe, her black mourning dress still on. Her long brown hair had been released from the elaborate, formal braids from the funeral, occasionally catching on a spring breeze.

 "If I tell it as Father would have you'll never know the difference between truth and farce." I winked and relaunched my story.

 The Cardinal's sermon had been full of orders. We must mourn Sir Jake, but we must never despair. Believe that he has moved on to a better place. Hold your loved ones closer.

 What the Cardinal didn't know was that when I was a child-- in fact at the very christening he presided over-- a fairy named Lorelei gave me a gift. It was common to receive gifts from fairies on happy occasions like births and weddings, but Lorelei was well known throughout Arkadia for well-meaning, but absolutely horrid gifts. For example, mine: obedience. I had to obey every command given to me.

 For a child, it was convenient to order her to stop crying, or eat her vegetables-- any orders given with her wellbeing in mind. But as I grew older, we realized that my curse (because it was not quite a gift) had other implications. I appeared quite clumsy. When somebody told me to go bump into someone else, I literally had to do it. It could also be dangerous-- a sarcastic retort telling me to chop off my own head would be taken seriously. Only Maya and my parents knew of my curse, and I'd been ordered as a child to never tell anyone else.

 So when my mother noticed that I literally pulled her closer upon the Cardinal's command, she drew me up against her and kissed my forehead. "Go," she whispered to me, "before he tells you to martyr yourself."

Another order.

I fled into the woods and cried under a willow along the tree line for a good hour just out of earshot of the funeral procession. When my tears ran dry, I watched the Cardinal, my Mother, and the rest of the people leave my Father in his coffin behind, walking towards the manor.

 The King and Queen had come, their daughter and son in tow. As a knight, Father had spent nearly as much time in the castle as he had at the manor. Princess Octavia was around my age. I could see her, long dark hair with a tiny frame like mine, huddled against her mother, just as I had been an hour before. The Crown Prince was at least a few years older, perhaps 20 or 21. I couldn't see him in the crowd anymore, his dark curly hair and tall frame too distinct to mistake for anyone else. Good looking and eligible, he had quite a reputation among the other girls my age, but I wondered what he was like as a person. With Queen Aurora’s frequent illnesses, he and his sister had been isolated from the rest of the court during childhood. Growing up in that castle with only his sister, how had he made friends? Was he all seriousness and gravity? Did he grow up giving orders left and right? Was he a good man? Would he be a fair and just ruler?

 "They're heading back to the manor." A deep, quiet voice came from behind me, and I jumped.

 It was the prince in question. He seemed even taller from where I sat against the tree. I probably should have stood and curtsied, but I could hardly find the energy to acknowledge his presence before turning back to look out at the now empty field.

 He didn't seem bothered by it and joined me on the ground, leaning against the wide base of the tree. He pulled one knee up to his chest, stretched the other out in front of him. I spread my legs out parallel to his, and my tiny feet barely passed his knees. We sat in silence for a few moments, just looking out at the fresh pile of dirt at the top of the hill.

 "Your mother asked me to fetch you and bring you back to the house, but we don't have to go straight away." He told me quietly. I liked his voice. It was strong and gravelly and resonated deep from his chest, but it was still soft enough to make him seem gentle. Even his features were softer than I expected, except for a sharp pattern of freckles that sprinkled his nose and cheeks.

 "Thank you," I whispered, the words getting caught in my throat on their way out.

 "Your father was a good man, and I'm going to miss his guidance dearly," he offered me. "He taught me how to read Greek, and speak Trigedasleng."

 I smiled. "He loved languages."

 "Not as much as you though," he corrected me, and I looked over at him, surprised. He smiled weakly. "He told us stories when we were growing up. Octavia and I, we were often so lonely in the castle, and we loved hearing all about you and Wells and Maya. I feel as though I know you as well as I knew him. You pick up new languages quicker than I pick up new books. You're kind to a fault, but also terribly clumsy. "

 "I know my father's stories well, so you probably heard exaggerated renditions of all my accidents." I said, smiling to think of how much my father loved telling a good story. "Although, it's true. I'm quite uncoordinated."

 His dark eyes suddenly sparked with intrigue. "Did you truly drop a set of plates through your kitchen window?"

 I could feel myself blushing furiously. "I slipped on water from the washbin," I protested. "But yes, that was true."  

 He laughed, an easy, light chuckle that made me forget the deep sorrow of the day and remember the way my father had laughed when I’d admitted what happened.

 I smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Your Highness; I'd almost managed to erase that from my memory. Our cook only let me peel potatoes for a month after that."

 "Anytime, Lady Clarke," he grinned. "And call me Bellamy."

 An order... although one I didn't mind obeying. He was far more gracious and easy going than I'd expected, for a future king.

 "It's just Clarke," I corrected him. "I'm not yet eighteen."

 "In a month's time, you will be," he corrected me, again. "And you are far more mature than many ladies I've seen at court these past two years." He knew my birthday and yet I knew almost nothing about him.

 I must have made a face, because Bellamy asked me what was wrong with being eighteen.

 "Now that my father is gone, I'll need to find a husband. I can't go to university without a sponsor."

 Eighteen was the age of eligibility in the kingdom, and traditionally when nobility were called by their titles. It was also when young ladies were introduced into society. For me, it had an even worse connotation--- my aspiration to formally study languages at a University meant I would have to find a sponsor, but my curse endangered me to the trap of being no more than an obedient wife.

My mother knew the risks of my curse in the context of marriage. My father was a kind, wise man. He'd married my mother when they were quite young, and had afforded her the one thing that eluded most women in our kingdom: a formal education. My mother spent much of her early marriage training at university with the best healers of our time. She had been lucky to find my father, who had never believed that a wife deserved to be treated as anything less than an equal in a partnership.

 King Marcus believed the same, contrary to his father before him, and he had managed to change many of our kingdom's inequality laws. But it had been difficult to spread this belief out to the rest of the kingdom. Every effort to get rid of the sponsor requirement had been repealed by the rest of the nobility.

 Bellamy’s jaw immediately clenched, and his kind expression set into a distant one. "That law will be the first thing I change when I am king."

 "Your father has tried, Bellamy," I defended our king. "It's the rest of the nobility who won't accept the changing times."

 "It's wrong. And it's the same old, cranky men who you will be expected to court and marry. I've seen it with my cousin, and it will happen with you and Octavia too. It makes me sick to think of them having so much control over you. You are a person, Clarke, not a thing to be owned and kept."

 I fell silent. I could hear him growing angry, his soft voice raising to a strong, firm timber. My father had been right-- Bellamy was good with words. I remember him saying that as king, Bellamy's speeches would one day rally armies to war and crowds to jubilation.

 He surged forward, aligning his gaze with mine. His face was close, close enough for me to see the urgency and conviction in his eyes. "Tell me you'll wait for someone who is kind and good. Until you find someone you want to marry."

Another order.

I paused, attempting to put off promising something I knew wouldn't be true, avoiding lying to royalty.

 I could feel the headache and nausea building, the tears pushing up into my eyes-- although I couldn't be sure if that was the curse's effect or my own emotions regarding the topic of marriage.

 He saw my struggle, and rocked back. His face grew apologetic, misinterpreting my reticence in answering as a fear of disagreeing with him.

 "I'm sorry," he said. "You can feel however you please about marriage. I often forget that not everyone agrees with my political views. It would be hypocritical for me to judge you for having your own beliefs."

 I shook my head vigorously. "It's not that." I paused and tried to collect myself, although I couldn't help feeling quite angry about the whole situation.  "Do you know how it feels to be told that you must surrender yourself to another person, obey them knowing they hold your future in their hands? I hate it. I hate everything about the idea. I've always hated it, and my parents always assured me that I would never have to worry about it-- but other girls in the kingdom shouldn't have to worry about it either. And now that it's just my mother and I, she'll lose her license, and I'll have to marry. And it's just unfair." I hadn't realized that my voice had risen. I was suddenly pacing, gesturing, yelling at him, while he sat captive to my rambling.

 I stopped.

 "Oh," I drew my hand to my mouth. "I'm... I apologize. That was out of line." I sat back down on the grass beside the tree, and drew my knees back up to my chest. I looked over at Bellamy, and he was gazing off into the distance. His expression didn't betray any emotion at all-- not anger, nor offense.

 “Your father used to tell me, 'who you are and who you must be to survive are two very different things.’"

 I could remember him telling me the very same thing, usually when a lecture about my curse was coming on. His mention of it made the hot pressure of tears return to my eyes.

 "But I also think your definition of survival is only what you make of it...I think..." he frowned, pausing, choosing his words carefully. "I know how it feels to live a predetermined future, to feel an obligation towards fulfilling a role. I've always accepted my destiny to be king after my father, but sometimes I wonder who I would have been if I weren't a prince. I hate ordering people around, demanding they follow my lead. I'd rather tell my people to do whatever the hell they want.”

 I laughed. “A future king who doesn’t like rules. You are a conundrum.”

 "Lady Clarke, you are much wiser than your almost eighteen years." He brought his hand to my shoulder and squeezed encouragingly. "I have met married women with half of your poise and maturity."

 I couldn't help blushing. "I may be seventeen, but today I am much too young to marry. I feel like a child who just lost her father." I admitted, the tears threatening to close my throat once again.

 "You are." He replied simply. "But you are also a survivor. And tomorrow, maybe you'll have earned twenty years, just to lose them all next week in a fit of childish play."

 "I shall plan, then, to slide down a banister or two every time I'm in danger of aging too much," I retorted with a straight face.

 Bellamy's face split with amusement. "You've got a quicker wit than Sir Jake!" He barked with laughter, and though it was a bittersweet feeling to know I'd made him laugh the way my father once had, I treasured the accomplishment. "If you ever need to escape the manor, please say you'll come visit us at the castle. I'd love to introduce you to Octavia."

 I thanked him, and we agreed that it was time to head back to the house. As we walked, up and over the hill on which my father was buried, we discovered that the recent rains had turned half the hill into mud. I carefully stepped to the side. But Bellamy gave me a mischievous grin that made him seem closer to twelve than twenty.

 "This would be an excellent hill for mud sliding."

 I looked at him, I'm sure, with my mouth agape.

 "Come now, Lady Clarke. How many times did you slide down this hill as a child with your father? I think we would be doing his memory a disservice by letting such a perfect rain go to waste."

 He had me there. He was already unlacing his vest and pulling off his formal boots. He threw them to the bottom of the hill and looked over at me expectantly.

 "You're a prince ." I said, not very elegantly, unable to think of any other reason to decline the hand that reached out, inviting me to join him.

 "All the more reason to do as we please," He winked. "No one will pay attention to you if I walk in behind you covered in mud. Now push me."

An order.

And with that, I learned how dangerous an order from Bellamy could be.

 No matter how much I didn't want to, I pushed him. His eyes lit up as he grabbed my hand and pulled me down with him. We were instantly soaked, and I threw a handful of mud at his head. He ducked, only catching a bit on his dark curls, and retaliated with a handful that landed just on my cheek. His look of pure glee made me unreasonably happy. I stood up, and motioned for him to follow my lead, taking a running start and launching myself down the hill. I could hear his whoops of joy behind me.

 When we landed at the bottom, I turned to him and grinned. "That is how my father and I did it."

 "Again." He ordered, with a smile. I would have complied, even without my curse, just to see his thrilled face again. We ran up and slid down the hill until we were entirely coated in mud, and out of breath.

 "Now if anyone asks," he wheezed, mud splattered across the bridge of his nose and in his hair, "you must tell them that this was all an accident. We can have your mother thinking I'm a poor influence on you, or she'll never let Octavia and me call on you." He winked at me, and if there weren't mud smeared across my neckline, he might have seen the flush spread up towards my face.

 "Who said you weren't a poor influence?" I asked with a smile, wiping another streak away from my eyes.

 "Whoever said you were a blonde," he retorted, fingering a strand of my blonde hair, now entirely covered with brown mud. I laughed and splayed myself out at the bottom of the hill, pausing to catch my breath.

 I could feel Bellamy studying me. "We'll have to go back eventually," he said. "They must all be wondering if we've just decided to run away and never return."

 "To do what?"

 "Escape the rules and expectations. Learn whatever trades we please-- those that require education, and those that don't. I'd be a woodworker, and you’d be a linguist of course, and we'd be fantastically poor. A truly exciting existence, living off the land. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at carpentry."

 "I'd need a husband to stay in university, no matter what station we held," I pointed out.

 "Then we'd elope, too. If we're leaving our families and abdicating our titles, we may as well go all the way." He'd said it so matter-of-fact, I'd almost missed the mention of marriage. Not that it didn't hold a certain level of appeal.

 I tried to train my expression and voice into a mask of indifference. "Ah, but you forget. I'm much too young to marry."

 He rolled over to face me and grinned. "I'll just ask again tomorrow."

 Internally, I cursed Lorelei and her gift of obedience.

 "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."  A light, airy voice broke through my internal musings. I looked up to see the Princess wickedly grinning down at us.

 Bellamy groaned dramatically. "Just debating local laws, playing in the mud, proposing marriage to fine young ladies. All in a day's work, O."

 "I wouldn't expect less from you, Bell. But the adults are wondering what happened to Lady Clarke and her... mature... royal chaperone, and I'm afraid they may mistake you for swamp people if you return looking like this."

 "O, meet, Clarke, Princess of the Swamp People." He waved his hand over towards me, not bothering to sit up from his spot at the bottom of the hill, still catching his breath.

 I looked up at her, sheepish. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm afraid I'm a bit dirty at present."

 Princess Octavia snorted. "I'm more jealous that I wasn't sent to fetch you too. I clearly missed out.”

 I stood up, and made a passing attempt to squeeze the mud out of my hair and away from my face.

 "It's nice to meet you, Lady Clarke, although I'd hoped we'd make your acquaintance under better circumstances. Your father was quite dear to us," she said quietly.  

 I thanked her and helped Bellamy up. He gathered his vest and boots, and we begrudgingly headed back towards the manor. We rinsed off by the pump behind the stables, and braced ourselves for the reactions to come, although I doubt anything could have prepared me for my mother and the Queen's expressions and the King, doubled over with laughter as we dripped on the foyer.

"So first you argued about politics with the Prince, and then you slipped and pulled him into the mud?" My mother recapped the basic details of the story I told her and Maya, in the edited version Bellamy had unknowingly ordered me to provide. Simply that after the service was over, Bellamy found me by the big willow tree at the foot of the hill, and we walked back together.

 "Essentially."

 "Prince Bellamy has grown into quite a handsome man," Maya teased me suggestively.

 I blushed. "He was very polite to me," I replied, attempting to quash any thoughts they had of my catching Bellamy's eye.

 "Just be careful," Mother cautioned me. "I will never tell you who to love, Clarke, because you know where I stand with that. But loving a prince in your situation can be a dangerous thing. You could be manipulated to harm the kingdom, yourself, even Bellamy."

 And that, I knew, was precisely the problem.

Chapter Text

The Alchemist

“Why do you let people push you around like that?”

 Even staring up at the ceiling from my bed in our dorm room, I knew my roommate, Raven, was sending an aggravated look my way.

 I still couldn’t believe I was here. I started University on my eighteenth birthday, and it was everything I had imagined-- with the exception of my “chaperones,” Cage and Emerson Wallace.

 When I was younger, I would sit in my bedroom and imagine what University might be like. My mother had always told me wonderful stories of living in the dorms, having access to the expansive collection of books in the library, and hearing lectures from the best intellectuals of the day.

 More than anything, though, I yearned to be around someone my age-- I’d had few friends growing up in a manor with few neighbors and fewer children. The Prince and Princess had been mostly isolated during childhood because of the Queen’s frequent illnesses. My nearest friend, Wells, was a day’s ride away. I’d imagine what it would be like to have more than just my parents and Maya to confide in.

 I quickly found that friendship in my roommate, Raven. An ambitious alchemy student from Mecha, Raven’s parents were metalworkers and she was being sponsored by an uncle who wanted to raise his family up in station. While it wasn't unheard of, Raven's situation was uncommon, and the rest of our classmates gave her hell for it.

 Raven was fearless and unafraid of pushing any boundary, and I kept her in check when we were in danger of getting in beyond our depths. She taught me the language of her region, which was beautiful, and one that my father had never been able to teach me. I helped her memorize her base metals, since all of their names were rooted in Greek. We bonded quickly over our mutual thirst for knowledge and dislike of the Wallaces and their gang.

 "If it were me, I'd tell him to do it himself and sock him in the face."

 "Sock him?" I asked, confused. Mecha slang was different, less literal than other Arkadian dialects.

 She swung her fist in the air from her position lying on her bed. "You know, punch him. Maybe break that pointy little nose of his."

 I laughed at the image in my mind. My father had taught me to spar and defend myself, so there was no doubt I could do some damage. "It would give me great pleasure to give Cage a taste of his own medicine," I admitted. "But the Wallaces are my sponsors. If I get on his bad side, I'll be forced to go home and my mother would lose her rights as a healer."

 In a last ditch effort to delay my impending marriage, my mother was entertaining Lord Wallace,who agreed to sponsor both her healer's license and my university education in exchange for staying at our Manor. Lord Wallace was a noble from Agro, the mountain country, who wanted to spend more time close to ongoing matters with the King.

 His opinions were outdated, certainly, but he was polite, well-intentioned, and politically shrewd. But his sons, Cage and Emerson, were intolerable. Cage was sharp, but incredibly pompous and cruel. He'd bullied three of the kitchen staff to quit before he even moved in. Emerson wasn't as brutal, but his lack of intelligence was just as dangerous; he followed his older brother around like a puppy. It took less than a week for Cage to realize that I was unnaturally compliant with all of his demands. And once he realized that, he knew exactly what he needed to do to get whatever he desired.

 Lord Wallace sent his sons to accompany me to University, with the hopes that they would learn the political and business acumen required for their titles. As soon as we arrived at University, Cage grew more sinister and greedy with his commands. I stole the set of answers to his Ethics exam, a class he was (unsurprisingly) failing. I gave him and his brother most of my meal allowance. I would have starved if it weren’t for Raven's ability to swipe extra portions from the kitchen staff after hours. I sabotaged a group of freshmen in Emerson's history class because they'd looked at him the wrong way.

 "I just wonder how far he can push you until you break, until you become a person you no longer recognize."

 Tears burned behind my eyes. I knew she understood the power Cage and Emerson held over me, but I also knew precisely what she meant with those words. Each petty crime, each mean spirited command brought me further and further away from Clarke of Alpha.

 "Who we are, and who we need to be to survive are two very different things." I recited my father's words of advice to Raven, realizing just how true they had become.

 "That's quite astute, Clarke.” She rolled over to peer at me, propped up on her elbows. “Even if you need to refine your definition of survival a bit. Book knowledge isn't everything."

 I smiled. "Another friend told me that once, too."

 "Not surprising. You have very intelligent friends," she winked. “Good looking, too.”

 I rolled my eyes at her humble comment. We fell into a comfortable silence as I thought about Bellamy and his vehement objection to the sponsorship laws. For a brief moment I wished he could be my sponsor, that I were with him and Octavia at University instead of Cage and Emerson. That my curse didn't place him, me, and the rest of the kingdom in danger so long as I enjoyed his presence.

 "You and he both seem to agree that my morality and happiness is more important than my education and free will."

 "I like him more with every moment.” She replied dryly. “He should have the ear of King Marcus."

I snorted. "I should hope he does, since the King is his father."

I didn't need to be facing Raven's bed to know her face had gone slack and her eyes wide. I heard her roll over to face me. I mentally berated myself. If Cage or Emerson had been nearby, this could have been disastrous. Usually I was so collected, calculated even, about revealing any details of my life. I couldn’t give anyone extra chips to play with when it came to my curse.

But around Raven and Bellamy, I felt safe. They brought out another side of me, a less reserved, less guarded Clarke.

One that I couldn’t afford to let Cage or Emerson see.

 "You've met the Prince? Is he everything they say he is?"

 I rolled my eyes again, knowing she was referring to his tall, dark, and handsome reputation. "If you mean he is quick-witted, loyal to a fault, and surprisingly adept at banister sliding, then yes, he is."

 I could tell she was trying not to show how impressed she was. Raven was a proud woman, and like me, determined to show no weakness.

 “My cousin is one of his knights-- one of the best swordsmen I know. He has said that he’s quite loyal, and levelheaded too.”

 "Bellamy is a complicated person, I think. He wants to be his own person, carry his own beliefs, but you can tell the first time you meet him. He’s enormously weighed down by responsibility-- to his kingdom, his sister, his parents, his friends.”

 “That doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve ever met before,”she teased.

 I pretended not to hear her. “He's not rough on the eyes either,” I confided, with a smile.

 Her jaw dropped. “You and he… you aren’t…”

 I shook my head, smiling. “He's adapted a rather brotherly behavior toward me."

 “That’s too bad,” Raven frowned. "He'd make an excellent sponsor, and then you could kick the Wallaces to the curb." She was also unafraid to tell it like she saw it.

 As if I wasn't painfully aware of that truth. Except that Raven didn't know my deepest secret-- that even if I no longer relied on the Wallaces for the privilege to stay at University, Cage knew of my obedience and wouldn't hesitate to use Bellamy's position of power to his advantage.

 I couldn't, under any circumstances, allow that to happen.

 "I don't see myself marrying a prince anytime soon, so I'll just have to make do with what I have." I replied, more curt than I had intended.

 Raven dropped the subject, and I pulled my book out from behind my pillow. I still missed Maya and my mother, but a gift from Maya, a magical book charmed to show me anything I wanted to see, cured me of my homesickness. It gave me beautiful retellings of fairytales, fables, and myths. The illustrations were intricate and lifelike, and a story never reappeared twice unless I asked it to. Besides being entertaining, it provided me maps, illustrations, and letters from the real world. A map of the entire kingdom, my mother making a house call, Maya in the kitchens-- the book became my portal to life outside University.

 I fell asleep reading a letter from Bellamy to his father.

It wasn't until nearly a week later that I realized that Raven had been ruminating on a plan that would force me to choose sides once and for all.

 Just as Raven and I were leaving the dining room from lunch hour, I saw Cage storming towards me, Emerson scurrying not far behind.

 "You should get to your metalworks class before Cage draws you into whatever mess he's about to get me into," I advised Raven before they were within hearing distance.

 Raven quirked her eyebrow. "I have a feeling I know exactly what he's upset about. No regrets, Clarke, that misogynist deserves everything that’s coming to him."

 I instantly knew she'd done something to instigate them. My stomach sank.

 He was sputtering once he finally approached me. "What did you do?" He yelled, and several students stopped what they were doing to stare. He stopped when he realized this, and jerked my arm towards the hallway.

 "Emerson, go to class," he snarled. “Lady Clarke, come with me.”

An order.

Emerson obeyed almost as readily as I did, although willingly, and I wondered how dangerous the curse of obedience would have been for someone not as headstrong and rebellious as myself. I shuddered at the thought of Emerson obeying every last command given by Cage.

 Once Cage found an empty stairwell, he threw me down on a stair, his tall, wiry frame imposing from where I sat. "I gave you precise instructions, Lady Clarke," he said through his teeth, his voice low and menacing. Violent and abusive as he was, he was always observant of my station-- something his traditionalist father had probably instilled in him. "And yet, I've found myself under investigation for sabotaging Madame Vera. The very task you were asked to complete for me. No matter how much I tried to convince them of your guilt, they insist that I have blackmailed you."

 I scrambled up a step, attempting to gain some height and distance from him. There was no doubt in my mind that I could defend myself but I didn't want to risk angering him further.

 It didn’t take long to realized Raven had told Madame Vera about Cage's planned retribution, and had probably told them how Cage was holding the sponsorship over my head. Alchemy was Raven's favorite subject, and she knew the female professor would understand my reluctance to report Cage at the cost of my education.

 I smiled inwardly. She was clever.

 What Raven didn't know was that I'd already tried sabotaging Cage's commands, and he'd learned how to manipulate me to his exact specifications. He'd tell me to steal exam answers, and I'd burn them before he could get them. He'd commandeer my portion of shepherd's pie, and I'd choose the burned piece, or sprinkle his least favorite spices on top.

 But this mission had been carefully laid out by the two brothers to avoid it coming back to either of them. The only loophole they'd left unclosed was the one I'd taken: telling someone else. "You told that untitled Mecha wench about our plan, didn't you?" He surged toward me, and I crept back another stair.

 "If I did, there's not much you can do about it now," I fired back, impulsively. I immediately regretted it, once I saw his hard blue eyes glint dangerously.

 "My dear, you will learn just how untrue those words are. I don't understand why you are compelled to do everything we say, but I'm sure it's some kind of faerie work you can’t reverse. And I will find a foolproof way to ensure that the Reyes girl is ejected from this University, hers and her family's reputation ruined, that you will be the cause of her shame, and that she will fully know of your betrayal."

 I thanked God that I somehow was so in shock by his words that I didn't flinch or react to his threats.

 "Just you wait," he hissed. "You will pay for this."

 He surged towards me, climbing up the stairs and then past me, towards the dormitory level. Halfway up the staircase, he spun around, remembering my weakness. "And Lady Clarke? You will tell no one of my plan, or this conversation."

An order.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Now that he was gone, the tears streamed hot and fresh down my face. His words echoed in my head, taunting. He would force me to betray the one friend I had managed to keep here, despite his best efforts.

 I remembered my father's words, the ones I had repeated back to Raven only a week before, and Raven and Bellamy's responses. How far would I let Cage push me before I stood my ground? How far would he dare to go, what would he imagine next? Madame Vera's reputation had already stood on the line, and now Raven and her family's reputation was in danger. I hardly cared about my own, except that it would hurt my mother and Maya to know what I had been manipulated into doing. This was more than going to bed hungry, or risking a demerit.

 This was hurting more than just me. These were my people.

 The good standing of Raven's education meant more to me than my own. The Griffin estate was worth enough that I didn't need to work and I could continue to pursue languages on my own, perhaps even request access to the Royal Library.

 Could I stand my ground with the curse standing in my way? I could remove myself from the situation, run away from University, but where would I go? Going home would mean seeing Dante Wallace again, and he would surely tell Cage that I had returned home. Mother would want to ask them to leave, but then she would likely lose her license again.

 Unless I could find Lorelei, the fairy who had made me obedient in the first place. We had made halfhearted attempts to find her before, to ask her to reverse the spell, to no avail. She was the only one who could remove it, and she was difficult to track down. Perhaps with Maya's book, I could find her.

 I clambered up the stairs to my room, the plans slowly taking shape in my head. Once there, I pulled the book out from under my bed and whispered into the spine.

 "Show me Lorelei." The page I opened to showed an illustration of a sleeping fairy, dark haired and younger than I would have guessed. I searched the image for anything that would indicate her location. The window looked out onto a field with an oak tree, but those grew in every county. I looked closely at her bedtable in the foreground, and saw an invitation to a wedding. Of course. Fairies such as Lorelei and Mandy were often invited to weddings and baptisms in the hope they would bequest gifts to the guest of honor. If I went to this wedding, I might be able to gain her attention. I checked the details of the invitation. It was a giant's wedding, and it was to be held in less than two weeks.

 I quickly calculated the amount of time it would take for me to walk or ride there. If I managed to procure a horse, I would have plenty of travel time, although walking would cut it close. Really, I reasoned with myself, this was the best course of action. Even with the slim chances of finding Lorelei and asking her to reverse the curse, I wouldn't be at University to follow Cage's commands or ruin Raven's reputation. I was doing more than just surviving my curse-- I was adapting and fighting back.

I was running away from school.

Chapter Text

The Mystic

Once I had my plan, I collected my most treasured belongings: Maya's storybook, my father's watch, and my mother's pearl necklace. I gathered enough food for a week and stuffed it all in my leather rucksack. I wore only my green travel gown, my father's favorite, and a gown for the wedding-- I'd have little need for any other clothes, and wouldn't want to carry them all. I left a letter for Raven, thanking her for her friendship. Finally, I wrote a letter to Madame Vera, admitting my fault in the sabotaged of her classroom under the blackmail of my sponsor's son. 

Then I was off.

According to the map in Maya's book, I could take two routes to Agro. The more direct route brought me through the mountains, where I risked running into Ogres. The other, longer route took me through the Woods. It still held danger--- rogue Ogre troupes, thieves, wild animals--- but I had the best chances of making it to Agro alive.

As a child, my father had told me that the Ogres, or Moudon, were every bit as vicious as the legends made them out to be. They sought out humans and animals alike for their flesh, blood, and marrow. Their greatest weapons were their melodic voices that could somehow persuade even the most strong minded knights to jump into a fire willingly. 

With my curse, I would be helpless.

My journey started slow. Belatedly I realized I should have posted at an inn to get a good night's rest and start off early in the morning, but there was no going back now. I found some long grasses to sleep on and began to settle in before it got too dark.

"You're building your sleeping quarters on a bed of poison sumac."

A deep, but gentle voice broke the silence, and I whirled around. Through the veil of twilight, there stood a hulking man covered in tattoos and animal hides. He was Trikru; most Arkadians called them Elves. While they had descended from Elvian clans, they tended to be taller and leaner than most humans, and preferred to live off the land.

Some were ruthlessly violent, but most just kept to themselves and didn't bother with our society. If we didn't bother them, they wouldn’t bother us, my father used to say. Unfortunately, the other nobles often didn't prescribe to the same beliefs as my father and our progressive king, and tried to force them off their land.

I maintained my silence, unsure if his kindness was meant to be a ruse or trap.

"You needn't be afraid," he said with a refined accent, stepping towards me with his hands up, showing me he wasn't armed. I instantly felt at ease with his kind demeanor, despite his size. My sense of self preservation reminded me quietly that he wouldn't need a weapon, he could probably break me in half without straining a muscle. I was intrigued though; my father had held them in such high regard and I'd heard so many stories of his adventures exploring alongside them. "I promise, I'm more bark than bite. And you're not far from our village. Would you like a bed to stay in tonight?"

My mind warred with itself. He already knew I was here, so even if the village held danger, I was already victim to it. And I recognized the poison sumac now; I would have been itching for weeks if he hadn't interrupted. It was dangerous for a lady to walk away with a stranger while traveling alone, but wasn't it just as dangerous to sleep alone?

"Thank you, yes." I replied in Triedgeslang. If my knowledge of his native language surprised him in any way, he didn't let it show, he just nodded with an air of respect.

We walked for less than a mile before I found myself in the midst of a large clearing filled with small huts and a large bonfire burning in the middle. A Trikru city had been minutes away from my campground, and I had been none the wiser. The man brought me through the center of their village, allowing us to stop as small children gathered around me, lining up to touch my blonde curls and green dress, and bursting into tiny giggles when I answered their questions in their native language.

"Do I have an accent?" I asked the man, self-consciously. He smiled softly at the children, who had split between climbing up his legs and braiding my hair in their traditional, intricate styles.

"Slight, but they are simply unaccustomed to outsiders who know and embrace our ways."

I frowned to myself when I realized the children probably only had negative experiences with the people of Arkadia-- racist nobles, thieves hiding out in the Woods, merchants looking to take advantage of them. It made me angry to imagine the obstacles they were forced to overcome because of the nobles' greed.

Once the children lost interest in us, the man brought me to what looked like a war room, a long hut in the center of town, guarded by soldiers and containing plies of maps and wooden markers spread along a table that stretched the length of the hut itself.

When he found the woman he'd been looking for, he started speaking quickly in Trigedasleng. From what I could understand, he explained that he'd found me outside the village and that I needed a place to stay for the night. That I knew the language and didn't pose a threat. From the way he postured and spoke with the young heda, I could assume he was a respected warrior of their clan. She trusted his assessment of me and my situation. Finally, she nodded, and he bowed his head back at her. She was gone, slipping back into the shadows before I even realized the conversation was over.

My escort regarded me impassively before reaching his hand out to guide me through the hut's entrance.

"Please come, and we will get you food and lodging. I am Lincoln of Trikru."

"Clarke of Alpha. Thank you for your kindness."

"You are the daughter of Sir Jake." He said, surprise coloring his voice this time. I was surprised how quickly he made the connection, but then realized that my clothing probably betrayed my title, and my blonde hair and blue eyes mirrored my father's. I just nodded my head in confirmation. "He was a treasured friend of the Woods Clan; a just and kind man. We mourned when we heard of his fate."

"Thank you," I said. "He always spoke highly of your people and often returned with stories from your villages."

"He was a peacemaker by nature,” he said simply. “I can see that you are too. I must ask, though, what is a lady of your station doing wandering these woods without a chaperone? You don't need me to inform you of this danger; you are a smart woman."

I blushed, embarrassed at the way he made me feel as though I were being scolded. "I am traveling to Agro for a wedding. I seek a faerie named Lorelei."

Lincoln was quiet for a moment, seemingly deep in thought as he prepared some deer meat over a spit. Night had snuck up on us during our walk from where he had found me, and now our only light was the fire he had made to cook our supper. I could hear the low murmurs of conversation around us, but it seemed that most of the village had settled in for the night once darkness fell.

"When I was still a boy, Sir Jake came to our village, searching for shaman stories about reversing faerie spells. My mother was a shaman and healer, and she helped his research for many weeks.” Lincoln looked up from the deer meat, watched me knowingly across the fire. Flames licked in front of his face, but he held his gaze. “It was for you, wasn't it?  Lorelei made you obedient."

My heart pounded and I felt dizzy. I couldn't find the courage to wet my lips and respond.

"I can keep your secret.” He turned back to watch the meat. “Eighteen years ago, my mother told your father that we put so much stock in faerie magic, sometimes we forget that the human spirit has a magic of its own. You may find what you're looking for when you find Lorelei, but you may do better to find yourself along the way."

"I heard that the Trikru were cryptic,” I frowned, “but you've just served to confuse me more."

He smiled, as if confusing me had been his goal all along. "Your quest will include more than self-discovery. It has been many years since I have so clearly seen someone else’s future. But yours is like seeing my reflection in a pool of water. Danger, three figures who are not your friends, much laughter, and many tears on your journey. You will be forced to make a choice.”

I gaped at him. "That sounds like a lot of action for a two week trip to Agro."

He smirked at me as though he had a secret that I had yet to discover. "Your journey, Lady Clarke, extends much longer than the giants wedding and your return home. You will see the end of your rope before you become your truest self."

He made my head hurt.

I was relieved when he handed me a share of the deer meat and we fell into a comfortable silence. His words echoed in my mind, but I tried to file them away for more contemplation later, so I could concentrate on soaking in the Trikru village in front of me. We finished our meal, and Lincoln showed me to a small tent with a straw mattress pad.

"You'll be happy to know there is no poison sumac there, nor poison ivy."

I rolled my eyes, and he gave me a smug smile. "I deserved that," I conceded. "Thank you for offering me your help tonight."

"For the daughter of Sir Jake, it is the least I can do. Now, you must rest. We will discuss the details of your journey tomorrow at breakfast." With that, we bid each other good night.

The next morning, we ate breakfast over Maya's storybook. Lincoln already knew my deepest secret, and I thought he might appreciate seeing a piece of faerie craft.

I guessed right. The look of glee and awe was strange to see on his serious warrior’s face, and we perused the different stories before going back to the map of Arkadia. He gave me a more precise route than the meandering one I'd been traveling, and pointed out where the safest places to camp each night would be. With our careful planning and a little bit of luck, I would arrive in Agro the day before the wedding.

The word that I was Jake Griffin's daughter had somehow spread between supper and breakfast. While Lincoln and I planned, Trikru warriors and elders came, one by one, to meet me. Some knew English, and others spoke carefully enough in Trigedasleng that I could understand what they said. Lincoln had to translate for the elders who came, explaining that they held the highest regard for the daughter of a man who had fought alongside them and respected their traditions.

At the end of each visit, I was gifted with something that would serve me well on my journey: a bed roll from their healer, dried meat and fruits from a fierce looking female warrior, a regal looking horse from the elders. Each time, I protested, as each gift was more valuable than the next, but it was rude to decline a gift in their culture and they all insisted that their generosity couldn't begin to pay back their debts to my father.

It was mid-morning by the time we had finished planning and packing my things. Before he saw me off, Lincoln handed me a small cloth. Inside was an intricately carved bracelet and ring set, in the traditional Trikru design. I inhaled sharply.

"They are beautiful, Lincoln. They would be worth a month's wages for a merchant." Even as I told him I couldn't accept them, my hands betrayed me and slid each piece over my finger and wrist.

"I could order you to keep them, if I wanted to.” He reminded me warmly. “Artists keep their finest pieces for the hands and eyes who will love them. I know you will treasure my craftsmanship more than a merchant will."

I could feel myself choking up. The Woods Clan had shown me more acceptance than anyone at University, besides Raven.

“You will need to keep open eyes and open ears on your journey, Lady Clarke,” Lincoln reminded me. “And when you have reached the end of your rope, that is when you’ll be challenged the most. You will overcome your burden.”

I grinned at my mystical new friend.  "I hope to visit again, Lincoln kom Trikru, and I will never forget your kindness and generosity. Thank you."

It was quiet in the wood after I parted with my new friend. The horse I had been gifted snorted and huffed occasionally, and I sometimes spoke my musings out loud, but overall, there were few interruptions from the wildlife I knew was hidden in the brush.

As the day grew longer, the birds grew more comfortable with my presence and sang openly.  I heard a brook nearby, which signaled that I'd found the path Lincoln had directed me to follow. We trotted along the stream for another hour or two when I decided to settle down for the night. I tied the horse up to a nearby tree and built a fire. Once I had eaten my dinner, a ration of the dried meat, I stared into the flames of the fire I'd stoked. I thought about the task ahead of me.

While I was a fairly persuasive person, I was nervous about approaching the faerie who thought obedience was a suitable gift for a child, or anyone. What could I say to her to convince her that my obedience put me in danger every day? My mother would need to keep a sponsor, so if Cage and Emerson stayed in the manor, I would need to be able to defend myself. I wanted to be friends with Bellamy and Octavia, to not fear being manipulated for the ear of the royal family.  

The concept of being free from my curse, the possibilities it brought forward seemed exhilarating.

Once I'd developed a monologue for my eventual meeting of Lorelei, I laid out my bedroll and went to sleep. My dreams centered around imagining my father and I visiting the Trikru together, watching Lincoln whittle small crowns of thorns while my mother and Maya danced around the fire, chanting ancient protection spells.

Chapter Text

The Knights

After leaving Lincoln’s camp with my many gifts in hand, the next two days of my journey were rather uneventful. I spotted another Trikru clan, but kept my distance and remained close to the stream that Lincoln said would guide me to Agro.

On the fifth day, I awoke to find two big eyes staring at me. Fear clenched every muscle in my body and my breath caught in my chest.

Moudon.

I peered past the large female face to where my horse had been tied up, hoping to evaluate an escape route. The rope was there, but no horse. There was a pile of bones in their place. My stomach curled in on itself, a combination of nauseous disgust and fear.

The Moudon were the tribes of ogres who usually lived in the mountains, but rogue troops sometimes wandered the Wood hunting for food-- people and animals, whatever they could get their hands on. And apparently, they had already gotten their hands on my horse.

"She's awake," the female cried out in her guttural native Moudon language. I heard others shuffle their way towards me. "Good morning," she said, this time to me in perfect English, a toothy smile stretched across her wide, flat face. She backed away and three other Ogres popped out from behind her. "Thank you for the breakfast." She gestured to where my horse once was.

I remained silent.

"If you've found us another mute, I'm done letting you find our meals," one of her companions complained in Moudon. "I like to play with our food before we eat them, and it's no fun if they can't hear us."

The first one rolled her eyes. "Fine," she huffed and turned to yell in my face. "Can you hear us? Are you a mute?" I held back a gag, her terrible breath overpowering me. I tried to look confused. Perhaps it would be better if they thought I was mute, perhaps they would lose interest in me.

"Tell me...if you... can... understand... me," she yelled louder and slower, enunciating every word with her rancid breath.

An order.

So much for that.  "Yes! Yes, I can understand you," I muttered when I finally gave in to the curse, unable to withstand the headache and nausea that came with resisting.

The main ogre grinned back at the others, a gloating smile as she spoke again in Moudon thinking I couldn't hear her, "And I sense magic in this one. The girl has a curse upon her."

The sinking feeling in my stomach worsened. I had forgotten how attuned to magic they were, the way fairies and the Trikru were. They would know my secret soon enough.

Within the hour, I was tied to a tree, my hands and feet bound. As a group, the four of them decided that I would be their dinner later tonight, and so I had to listen to their endless complaining and bickering as the day drew on. In the early afternoon, they decided to walk further into the forest, from where I came.

I caught the eye of the female Ogre who had woken me, and tried my hand at their greasy language. "There is a town," I said in Moudon, "half a day's walk from here. Fat babies and lots of livestock. You should go there." I’d convinced my language professors to teach me the Moudon language. There was something about the honeyed lull of their voices, paired with the vowels of their language that made them almost hypnotic. If I could get the inflection just right, I might be able to work their own powers of persuasion over them. There had, in fact, been a village a half day's walk from here, but it had been a warrior village, and judging by the ogre heads on pikes they'd surrounded their camp with, they would be happy to see my present company.

Once they’d collected my belongings for me, they took the rope off my ankles and led me on a leash through the wood. Enamoured with my knowledge of their language, they referred to me as their pet rather than a meal. I hoped this would convince them to delay my death long enough for us to reach the warrior village. But when it reached dusk, they led me to a pot of boiling water.

"She would walk into the pot herself if we asked her," the female one, who had earlier claimed my torso and thighs, said to the group.

"But why would you want me in a pot?" I asked her in Moudon, my voice sickly sweet. I channeled every lullaby Maya sang me when I was a child. "You are so full, you feel as though you just ate a feast. This morning's breakfast still weighs heavy in your stomach. You are tired and need a nap." I watched their eyelids droop and they sank to the ground. It was working. I kept talking to them, lulling them. If they fell asleep and I could untie my hands...

"Just don't leave us during our nap, pet."

An order.

Tears streamed down my face as I stood amongst the sleeping ogres.

I would never escape. Despite my best efforts to prolong my imminent death, I’d probably be tonight’s dinner. Lost in my despair, I sank down against the tree to which they had tied me. I almost didn't notice when six figures crept out from the long shadows of dusk across the clearing.

I could hardly believe my eyes. The leader of the crew towered above the others and tearful laughter bubbled up at the sight of his unmistakably curly, dark hair.

How Bellamy had found me, or the ogres for that matter?  

I watched him and his knights carefully bind each ogre with thick ropes. A slight, dark-haired young man untied my wrists and then motioned to his ears, showing me that they all wore earplugs to protect them against the ogres' hypnotizing voices. I nodded my head and allowed him to pull me up to stand.

It was then that I saw the female ogre, the one who had claimed me, startle behind Bellamy as he tied one of the other's hands together.

"Bellamy!" I cried out, warning him.

She reached out for his neck. When he didn't respond to my shout, I grabbed the sword from the knight next to me. With one fell swoop, her throat was slit. I watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground. She had intended to eat me, and had probably committed many atrocities in her short life, but still, I had never taken a life before.

I looked up at Bellamy, horror in my eyes and he looked back, his surprise mirroring mine. The other ogres, however, had woken upon my shout and I watched as the knights fought the remaining three. The one at Bellamy's feet reached up for me, and I could only watch frozen. Bellamy grabbed the sword from me and plunged it in the ogre's heart.

As quickly as the knights had appeared from the Wood, it was over. The other two ogres were swiftly defeated, still alive, and once they were bound and gagged, the men removed their earplugs.

Finally, Bellamy turned back to me and surveyed the sight around us, and raised his eyebrows suggestively. It was instantaneous, the way his soft eyes instantly eased the horror and fear of the past seven hours. He appraised my blood-stained, torn dress and my dirty face and arms. My cheeks turned pink under his discerning eye.

"You remind me of a girl I once knew," he eyed me shrewdly, seemingly satisfied that I was still in one piece. "A princess of the swamp people. Except that before me is a lady, and a friend of the Woods Clan at that."

I reached up to feel the intricate braids the little Trigedakru girls had piled on the top of my head. I had forgotten about those.

I grinned. "That is correct, I am Lady Clarke of Alpha." I curtsied before him. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Prince Bellamy." He pulled me to his side, and hugged me tightly. I tried to hide my shaking hands, but my adrenaline was still running high and it was the closest I’d been to Bellamy since my father’s funeral. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and inhaled deeply, trying to center myself again.

"Don't make me order you to use my given name." He said gruffly, although he smiled while he stilled my hands. "It's bad enough these clowns go around calling me 'Your Highness' all day long." He motioned to the knights standing around us, looking confused at our instant familiarity and banter. I straightened up and curtsied to them as a group, although I instantly missed the warmth of his side. Bellamy introduced me to his knights. "This is Sir Nathan, Sir Jasper, Sir Monty, Sir Wick, and Sir Finn. Men, this is Lady Clarke, the one I was telling you about."

They all nodded at me as they struggled to straighten themselves up, and I curtsied back again. I was the one he’d been telling them about?

Now that we weren't being attacked by ogres, I realized that they were all young men, not much older than Bellamy. I even recognized Sir Nathan; his father had served in the knighthood alongside mine, and we had attended many social functions together as children. I nodded to him again, and he smiled.

"Lady Clarke, the Prince tells us that you have quite a way with languages," the knight who had untied me, Sir Jasper, smiled kindly at me. I felt my cheeks flush.

"Only as talented as he is. We had the same tutor," I spoke hesitantly, nervous under the curious eyes of the five knights. I remained close to Bellamy, as they casually stood around me.

"Lady Clarke speaks too kindly of her rescuer," Sir Finn teased. "I've heard the Prince attempt conversation with my cousin from Mecha, and it's clear he slept through those classes."

I grinned, confidence growing in company who was comfortable teasing Bellamy. "I would venture to say I rescued Bellamy rather than the other way around, no?" I winked at the other knights, and watched as Bellamy fought a smile. "Just because you had beeswax in your ears doesn't mean I didn't try to warn you."

"My knight in shining armor," he bowed to me. "You even slayed an ogre for me. For that, I at least owe you supper."

I curtsied back exaggeratedly. "That would be a great honor and pleasure." He rolled his eyes at me, and I couldn't help laughing.

Then he sprang into action, confidently ordering his men to their duties. I had seen the mischievous side of Bellamy before, and the thoughtful side, but had never witnessed the soldier and King-in-training.

It suited him.

He asked Finn and Wick to gather firewood and Monty and Jasper to set out our supper. Nathan and I followed him to where the two remaining Ogres were tied up. They glared at us and struggled against their bonds, but Nathan and Bellamy ignored them and tightened each rope meticulously.

I watched them intently, struggling to keep my eyes from wandering to the two bodies that had had been left where they had been killed. Killed by Bellamy and me.

Bellamy pretended not to notice how uncomfortable I was, standing there with no use for my own hands. I watched his dexterous fingers tie a complicated knot that would be impossible for the ogre to escape.

"You must be looking forward to a fresh meal," he said softly, his voice taking that gravelly quality I remembered fondly from our first meeting.  

"Compared to being someone else's meal, certainly," I joked, trying to hide my discomfort with humor. "This one claimed my arms." I nodded toward the ogre who he was securing, the youngest of the group.

Bellamy paused for a moment, his hands stilled and his jaw set. He stood up to face me and gripped my shoulder tightly. I tried to look anywhere but his eyes and his dark face dirtied with blood and cuts, so I focused on his dark green shirt until his other hand forced me to look back up at him.

"Clarke, you were taken captive by ogres and then almost eaten by them. You can pretend with the others, but please tell me the truth: are you alright? Did they hurt you at all?"

I focused on the patch of freckles on his nose, to avoid his gaze. "I... They didn't hurt me, no. But it's not the whole nearly-getting-eaten that bothers me." I trailed off, debating telling Bellamy the truth. He had just killed to protect me, but I felt so vulnerable admitting my weakness to him.

He rubbed my chin with his thumb gently, before releasing his hand. "You don't have to tell me. I'd understand. You've been through an ordeal. If it were Octavia, she'd probably be a mess. Hell, if it were me... I'd probably be a mess."

"But you aren't," I blurted out. "I killed that ogre-- a living thing today, and you did too, protecting me, no less." I broke, tears welling up. I could see Sir Nathan slip away towards the clearing where the rest of the group was assembling our meal, trying to discreetly give me privacy. Bellamy had probably taken a life before, but I only had experience with healing others alongside my mother. I didn't know how to deal with this.

Bellamy's brown eyes widened with a relieved exhale. "Of course that's what is bothering you."

He pulled me into a tight hug and I was crying too hard to object. "You were protecting yourself. You were protecting me, Clarke. You are not at fault here; they would have killed you without a moment's hesitation.

"Don't think it doesn't bother me either. The times I killed for the safety of my men and the good of the kingdom, it haunts me at night. I've done things that I wouldn't wish on our worst enemy, but it is also my responsibility as a leader to shoulder the burden and show a strong front. Leaders must do what they think is right.

"Your father was the strongest man I’ve ever known. You’re as strong as him, maybe stronger. You’ll find your way through this, I know you will.”

I wiped the tears away from my face, and smiled.

He squeezed my shoulder. "If it's alright with you, I’d like to carry this burden with you."

"Together," I agreed.

"The way you tame the Ogres in Moudon; how do you do that?" Bellamy asked, leaning against a tree trunk beside me. After dinner, we had set up camp and built a fire. It was dark now and since the temperature dropped at night during the late summer, we all sat in a close circle around the fire.

"I mimic the way they talk, almost like talking to a baby when you're lulling them to sleep. I think it is a strange sort of hypnosis." I explained. "To be honest, it was a last resort. I'd run out of options when I first tried it. I just needed to persuade them not to kill me."

"I'm glad you tried it," he moved his shins forward to lean against mine. "After Sir Finn spotted you when he was scouting, we came up with a rescue plan. But when they started boiling the water, I got a bit frantic. I doubt the six of us could have taken those ogres alone."

I had to agree. Bellamy and his men decided to bring the two remaining ogres to the nearby village while Sir Jasper and I stayed at camp with the horses, but they soon realized how difficult it would be to transport them. Then Sir Monty had suggested I persuade them to walk with us. It had worked, much to the men's amusement.

"You gave them a taste of their own medicine," Sir Wick had gleefully exclaimed on our walk back.

Bellamy had said that we would spend the night in camp and then they would accompany me to the giants' wedding. There was a noble he had to visit in the county anyhow, so we would part ways after the event. The fact that I would have to hide my true motive for attending the wedding made me all the more nervous. I told Bellamy that I was seeking another noble family to sponsor me, a conversation that hadn't gone well.

"I can sponsor you!" He'd exclaimed frustratedly and quite loudly during supper, causing most of our companions to look up from their plates with alarm. He sent them an apologetic look, and quieted his voice. "Why do you need to look any further than myself or my father? Or better yet, what's wrong with your sponsorship situation now?"

I had hesitated a moment. "Asking you would be too much, and it would appear to be favoritism. And Lord Wallace is an ethical and generous man, if not a little old fashioned. But his sons are manipulative and cruel. I don't wish to remain under their... control." There was no other way to say it, but I had still cringed at my word choice.

He'd fumed for a moment before collecting himself. "You promised me, Clarke," he said quietly, in a tone that I knew was loaded with too many emotions to count. He was referring to our conversation that day, about not marrying for the sake of my education. I knew he thought it was wrong, that I was silly for risking my life for the sake of a degree in languages.

I had tried to keep my eyes focused on my plate, and miserably failed. "I'm doing what I must to get by." I looked into his brown eyes, which seemed pained and disappointed as he looked back at me. "If there's anyone who should understand that, it's you, Bellamy."

His creased eyebrows and firmly set frown spoke for themselves. He understood, but that didn't make him happy about it.

"When we last spoke, you were too young to marry."

The others had suddenly become deeply interested in their meals. I had smiled sadly. "I feel as though I have aged a hundred years since we last spoke; I have traveled far from home, wandered the woods, killed -- in mine and your defense -- and kept the company of knights. Today, I am far too jaded to marry."

He had rested his hand on my shoulder. "It will pass. Clarke, you are one of the strongest and most independent women I've met, and that includes my sister. If anyone can find a way, you will."

I had blushed, mumbled a thanks, and turned back to my plate. With that, we were finished discussing my plans in Agro.

Now, in front of the fire, I felt the lie burning in the pit of my stomach. We both stared into the flames, watching them take shape and change color, Bellamy wrapped up in his own thoughts as well. It was a comfortable silence, one that reminded me of the willow tree at home in our first meeting.

Our quiet focus broke when Nathan and Monty started up an old folk song from home. Jasper pulled a fiddle from his sack and the sad mourning song, one that spoke of homesickness and longing, turned suddenly playful and upbeat. I looked to Bellamy with surprise at the tempo change, and he winked at me.

"His father taught him the songs," he spoke into my ear so I could hear over the men singing. "They all used to sing it together when they were our age, traveling the country on missions--- Jasper's father, Nate's, yours, and mine."

I grinned and joined in, my alto voice a distinct addition to the men's voices. They cheered when they heard me pick up the harmony, and we sang every song we could think of. After we moved on to the songs of lost love and missing home, I must have fallen asleep against Bellamy's shoulder, which moved up to the bench beside me at some point. I woke up to him nudging my shoulder, waking me only enough to direct me to the bed roll they had laid out just in front of me, next to the smoldering fire.

"Sleep well, Lady Clarke," he whispered as he pulled the blanket over my shoulders.

I probably wouldn't have even registered it, if it weren't an order.

Chapter Text

 The Faerie

The next morning I awoke to another order.

 "Wake up, sleepyhead!" A voice pervaded my deep sleep, and I felt the curse pull me out of a wonderful dream where my family-- my father included-- were spending the evening dining at the King's castle. Octavia and I had played duets on the piano forte, and Bellamy sang a folk song, and our fathers had laughed together as our mothers played cards. It wasn’t anything that had ever happened while my father was alive, but it was warm and comfortable, the way I’d felt dozing in front of the fire with Bellamy’s knights the evening before.

I opened one eye to see Sir Wick hovering less than three inches from my face, his nose nearly touching mine.

"I may be a lady, but my father taught me to fight," I mumbled almost coherently. "Five more minutes."

The men around camp all laughed cheerfully. Once Sir Wick pulled away, I could see that they were all awake, dressed, and ready to start the next leg of their journey. 

"Are you all early risers?" I asked incredulously. At home, no one rose in the manor before the scent of Maya's coffee enveloped the house. She denied it, but we swore up and down that she put some sort of faerie magic in it.

Bellamy held a bowl of steaming coffee above me, and I sprang up to retrieve it. "My knight in shining armor," I mock curtsied at him and breathed in the aroma. "Your best rescue yet."

"I might argue otherwise, but I'm glad to be of service once again," he grinned.

Once I finished my coffee and rolled up my pack, we were on our way to the Giant’s wedding. There weren’t enough horses, so I switched off between riding with each of Bellamy's knights. It was amusing, the way they fought over me like a shiny new toy. They were all so curious with the way Bellamy behaved around me, and surprised when I preferred to be treated as a peer rather than a noble lady. The truth was, even I forgot sometimes. I was just Clarke. I could ride a horse, I prepared my own meal, I could hold a high level conversation about politics, and I challenged their Prince.

Sir Jasper confided that he had heard Bellamy talk more in two days in my company than two months at court. That only in his sister's presence did he act as comfortable as he did when he was with me. I explained our strangely forged friendship at my father's funeral, and how he felt protective over me considering his relationship with my father. 

Sir Jasper smirked and winked at me. "That could be one reason."

The day passed quickly. I withstood the knights’ compliments and their interrogation of the tiny young woman who had pervaded their leader's wall. I only faltered when Sir Wick asked me why we were going to the Giant's wedding.

"Bellamy didn't tell you?"

"The Prince," he corrected me, probably without even realizing it, "said it was a personal matter and left it at that." He'd probably also implied that they shouldn't ask any questions, which Wick was now obviously ignoring. "But I'll be honest. It's strange for a lady of nobility to travel across the Wood, to Agro, unchaperoned. Even a lady so capable as yourself. I know Bellamy has the utmost faith in you, but you'll still have to find your way back to Alpha at the end of all this. Tell me the truth: why this trip worth such a risk?"

An order.

My cheeks burned, not for the first time that day. "Don't tell Bellamy this, because he'll tell his father, who will tell my mother." I waited for his agreement, my head pounding and my throat dry against the curse. I felt terribly. Sir Wick was Bellamy’s cousin, next in line for the throne after Bellamy, and the closest thing to an equal friend in a kingdom of subjects. I wondered how I would have felt if someone had asked me to lie to Raven, or my mother.

Wick nodded, and I delved in cautiously, immediately feeling the clearing of my head and ease of my breaths.

"There's a faerie who has the power to reverse a curse placed... on my family...long before my father's death."

If I kept it vague, I could tell Sir Wick the details of my quest without telling him about my curse. "Lorelei will be at this wedding, and I plan to approach her." I chose my next words carefully. "This curse puts us- and other people- in danger. I need to find her."

Sir Wick was quiet for a moment, and I could feel my anxiety building. Knights usually kept their word, but I still worried what Bellamy would think of me if he heard the truth. He would feel compelled to discover my curse and find Lorelei, and that put him and the kingdom in too much danger.

"Listen, I'm sure it sounds--"

"I believe you," he interrupted me. "I've seen your plight before, Lady Clarke, and although I'm a logical man by nature, I've seen the dangers faerie magic can hold, however unintentional." I let out a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. "I will assist you in any way that I can when we're at the giants wedding."

I squeezed his shoulder in thanks, and noticed that he addressed me only with requests and carefully worded statements for the rest of the journey. It was a relief to know he would help me with my true mission, but I also worried that one more person knew my secret.

It took us four more days to arrive in Agro. We arrived early, so Sir Jasper suggested we complete Bellamy's diplomatic visit with the noble family he needed to meet with. I should have been more suspicious when his cheeks flushed red, highlighting his freckles.

"Lady Clarke, perhaps you should stay at the inn with Wick and Monty this afternoon."

I couldn't help it, but I felt my eyes narrow at him before I could stop it. "Is it so unacceptable to have a woman accompany you in political meetings?"

"That's not it, at all," He shook his head and paused for a moment. "I may not have been completely forthcoming about my visit."

It suddenly dawned on me that I only knew of one noble from Agro, and he should have been in Alpha, at the Griffin manor with my mother. "Bellamy, who are you visiting in Agro?"  

"Lord Wallace," he admitted.

At least he had the decency to look apologetic, ducking his head and peering at me through the dark curls that had fallen across his forehead. I had a fleeting thought that I should ask the innkeeper for scissors later; a prince and his knights couldn't show up at a wedding looking like overgrown puppies.  I shook the thoughts out of my head, and looked back at him, attempting to show my disapproval.

"His relationship with the giants is less than savory. He's been abusing his power in the region and taking extreme fealties. The Giants are overworked and underpaid, and Wallace sees nothing wrong with it; he thinks it's the way of the old country. We've also heard rumors of him using the Ogres as tools to intimidate his opponents."

None of it sounded good, and yet none of it surprised me.

"I can't argue with that, Bellamy. You need to do what your father sent you to do. Just please don't mention me," I begged. I couldn't afford to have Wallace interfering while I tried to find Lorelei.

Bellamy kept his word, but had other surprising news for me when they returned. I'd twisted the hems of my sleeves while they were gone, ignoring Sir Monty's attempts to distract me with riddles and brain teasers. Sir Wick just barked out each answer, followed by a request for me to stop pacing, until I heard them dismounting their horses outside.

"Your mother is with him," he'd said before I had the chance to ask. I stopped short, no doubt betraying my fear in my expression. "And she's worried sick about you. They found the bones of the horse with your things, and they've commissioned search parties for you." His dark eyes were troubled, his mouth set in a frown. "I didn't enjoy withholding the truth from Lady Griffin. If it were Octavia, I would move heaven and earth to find her."

My shoulders slumped in defeat. My mother was the only true family I had left in the world. I couldn't let her continue imagining the worst. She was strong, but she'd already lost my father. It took only a second for me to accept what I needed to do.

"Will you take me?"

Without a word, Bellamy re-mounted his horse, reaching his hand down to pull me up to him. He dismissed the rest of his men (much to their chagrin) pointing out that the two of us could clearly handle ourselves on a twenty minute ride, and we were off.  I held onto him tightly as we rode, hiding my face in his leather vest. It was a bit warmer here in Agro and we'd all shed our heavy outer garments, especially when riding. But I soaked in Bellamy's warmth as though it would give me strength for what was to come.

"Did the rest of your talks go well?" I asked over the galloping of the horse. I felt bad now, realizing I hadn't even thought to ask when they got back.

"Lord Wallace is a politician to the bone," Bellamy replied. "He pretended to listen, but I don't think  we really got through to him."

"He needs to believe he's gained something by following your request. Wallace only agreed to sponsor my mother and I for access to our manor. And, he assumes, my mother's hand once her grieving period is over." I shuddered at the thought. Bellamy removed his left hand from the reins to squeeze my hands that were clasped around his waist.  He didn't bother telling me that he wouldn't let it happen, but I already knew he would go to great lengths to prevent my mother from having to marry Wallace.

It disarmed me, how easily Bellamy had snuck over the walls I'd built around myself despite my attempts to keep my distance from the royal family. I knew he felt drawn to me in the absence of my father, and also felt an obligation to my mother and I. He was a good man, and would be a good king. I would be sad when I had to push him away, as I had pushed away so many others for their safety. I thought of Raven and wondered if she was being tormented by Cage and Emerson in my absence. I hoped not.

We arrived at the Wallace manor and I immediately felt a lump at my throat. If I failed to find Lorelei, after the wedding with Bellamy and his knights, I would be going back to the manor with my mother and Wallace. I would have no choice but to follow Cage and Emerson's orders.

My mother must have seen us through a window because she met us at the door, trembling from holding back tears.

"You had me so worried," she whispered into my ear once she had me wrapped tightly in her arms. "If you hadn't left that note for Raven, we might have thought you'd been taken in the night."

"Cage and Emerson figured out my curse," I whispered quickly before their father arrived in the doorway. "They've been using it against me. I'm going to find Lorelei at a giant's wedding in two days and ask her to reverse it."

My mother looked at me with renewed terror in her eyes. She glanced over to Bellamy, who had taken a sudden interest in adjusting his horse's bridle.

I shook my head. "Bellamy doesn't know. He thinks I'm meeting a noble to sponsor me."  

She raised her eyebrows at me and gave me a watery smile. "How jealous is he?"

I frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Sweetheart, he's pleaded with me on more than one occasion to let his father sponsor us. He's even offered to sponsor you himself. The Prince has eyes only for you."

I shook my head. "He's protective, yes, but it's because I remind him of his sister. And he feels obligated to Father."

She patted my shoulder, patronizing, "You believe whatever you please, Clarke. I'm just glad you're safe."

I bit my lip. "I still want to go to the wedding. Bellamy's men said they would accompany me there."

"Certainly. I'll never stand in the way of you finding your freedom." I smiled at her and hugged her tighter.

"Thank you, Your Highness, for keeping my daughter in one piece," my mother called out to Bellamy, who turned his attention back towards us once again. "And for respecting her wishes, even when it meant lying to me." She winked at him, as the flush returned to his cheeks.

Bellamy stuttered an apology to her, and she waved him off. My mother enjoyed teasing everyone, royalty or not, and curiously enough, she appreciated the fact that he'd lied to her in order to follow my request.

Quickly, we caught my mother up on my activities since I left university. She listened with rapt attention as I described my visit with Lincoln and the Trigedakru. She was somber as I described being captured by the Ogres, no doubt remembering the bones of the horse they had found. And she laughed delightedly as Bellamy and I took turns recounting our battle with the Ogres.

"Perhaps I should be thanking Clarke for keeping our sovereign in one piece," she winked at him.

He grinned. "At the risk of my ego, and Lady Clarke's, I would simply thank your husband for raising us both to be fighters."

She smiled at us both with sad eyes. "He would be so proud of you, Bellamy, and Clarke too."

We didn't tell her about killing the ogres.

Our small reunion was eventually interrupted by Lord Wallace, who looked surprised to see me. He commented carefully on the speed of my rescue, the luck of my location.

"One of my knights spotted her while scouting, Lord Wallace, and she was waiting for us when we returned from your estate," Bellamy said gruffly, his hand squeezing my shoulder protectively. While this wasn't entirely a lie, it certainly wasn't the truth, but Bellamy knew my mother and I would both comply with his story.

Lord Wallace seemed to accept our story, however conveniently timed. "Well then, how can I ever thank you for returning Lady Clarke to us?"

Bellamy's reply was quick. "By reducing the tariffs and curfews on the giants." He glanced sideways at me for approval, and I nodded, encouraging him. I'd essentially fed him the idea on our ride, and hoped he had caught on. Wallace was a gentleman by default and would not stand to owe the royal family a favor.

Wallace smiled condescendingly at Bellamy and me, as if we were young students who had parroted back a new arithmetic formula. "Your Highness, you are a quick learner. Yes, I will make an effort to strengthen my relationship with the giants, and reduce their tariffs for a year. Does this satisfy you?"

"It does. I will follow up with you in three months time to ensure you've kept your word."

"Of course," Wallace bowed his head at Bellamy, but I could tell how much he resented the power the young prince held over him. "Now if you'll excuse us, I suppose we should get Lady Clarke settled in here."

Bellamy frowned. "Clarke has asked to return to camp with me. She will return home with you and Lady Griffin after the giant's wedding."

Wallace fumed, and his light eyes flashed a dangerous glint I'd never really seen before. "Under no circumstances will Lady Clarke socialize with giants. Now go inside with your mother." He directed his last words at me.

An order.

I looked at my mother, torn between obeying the curse and staying with Bellamy. I could feel the dull throb of his order creeping into my head, begging me to follow her into the Wallace manor. I placed a foot in the direction of the manor, alleviating the pull for just a moment.

Bellamy picked up on my unease before my mother even realized Wallace had given an order, and turned my shoulders to face him. The curse's weight settling on my chest made it difficult to focus on him, and even more difficult to breathe.

"Listen," he said, and I obeyed. His dark eyes held mine, and I fought to hear his low words over the ringing in my ears. It had been at least a minute since Wallace had issued his command, and somewhere in the background I was aware of my mother sharply telling him that he had no grounds to order her daughter around.

"You are an adult, Clarke, and you can do as you please. If you want to stay with your mother and Lord Wallace, I won't stop you. If you want to go to the giant wedding, come with me."

Another order.

His words washed over me, like surfacing for air after being held underwater. I gulped in oxygen and nodded. "I need to go to that wedding."

When I turned back around, Wallace was storming back into the manor. My mother gave us a mollified look. "Despite his misgivings, he has been generous to Clarke and me. He will forget about this soon enough." She kissed the top of my head. "Be careful," she murmured into my hair, "and I'll see you after the wedding." Her eyes warned me again against growing too close to Bellamy, against placing him in too much danger, and then she was turning, following Wallace into the manor.

I looked up at Bellamy, whose expression could only be described as confused. "Your mother and you are two of the most independent women I've ever met," he stated, with a smile. "And that's coming from the son of a Queen and the brother of a Princess."

"Clearly, the common denominator here is our progressive fathers. Give us an inch and we'll take a mile,” I smirked. “Now let's get back so I can cut your hair.  You’ll want to look respectable when you greet your subjects."

When it came down to the actual event, I could never recall much of meeting Lorelei.   

She wasn't as devastatingly pretty as I had imagined, and more ignorant than airhead. I remember arriving at the wedding, witnessing Lorelei giving the couple another ludicrous gift, and telling Wick that I was going after her. I remember the terrible nervous feeling, like a stone stuck in the back of my throat. But our entire meeting was a haze. She laughed in my face when I asked her to reverse my gift, and without even realizing it, she ordered me to be happy about being obedient and to bear my burdens quietly.

I remember returning to Wick at the banquet table, him anxious to know how it had gone. Had I reversed the curse? I felt outraged that he would refer to it as a curse, that anyone would want to take away a gift like obedience. I begged him to give me an order. I would be so happy to be obedient.

In that moment, it was true. Obedience was a gift. It was a blessing. How lucky I was! I would give my friends and family anything they asked. It was a pleasure to obey any command.

Luckily, Wick caught on quickly. The next thing I clearly remember was him pulling me into a corner and grabbing me by the shoulders. "Clarke? Look at me.” I happily obliged. “You will feel however you want to feel about your goddamn curse, you understand me? That's an order, okay?"

An order.

My mind cleared. Again, it was resurfacing for air after being dragged underwater for a long period of time. I let out a long exhale, and looked back up at Wick who watched me, concerned.

“Thank you,” I smiled shakily up at him. “I think she ordered me to be happy about my obedience.” I explained what few details I could remember of our meeting.

Wick looked grimly at me. "I had a feeling that would happen. My sister was cursed by Lorelei also. She also appealed to her and got turned down."

"Was?" I asked hopefully.

"She managed to overcome the spell somehow, years ago, but it nearly killed her. Whenever I ask her, she says it was because she was given an order she couldn't obey. It would have put her fiancé in grave danger."

I shuddered at the thought. I'd have to ask Maya. I didn't know if I could be strong enough to disobey an order to the point of breaking magic.

"I hope it never comes to that with you, Clarke, truly. I know the dangers and the trials of this magic. I've seen it first hand. But we thought we'd lost her for a little while there." He hugged me tightly, and I felt less alone knowing that I wasn't the only one to suffer under Lorelei's careless hand.

Bellamy approached us from behind, brow furrowed at our embrace. "Is everything alright, Lady Clarke?" He asked carefully, formally. His guard was up, I could tell. He’d seemed anxious since we’d left for the wedding, making veiled comments about my meetings with the nobles.

I shook my head. "None of my leads panned out. I will have to return home to the manor with my mother and Wallace after this."

Bellamy sighed. "Is it even worth suggesting, again, that I sponsor you?"

Wick laughed and patted my back. "I'll take my cue to leave. But Clarke, please listen to what our dear prince has to offer you."

I rolled my eyes at him and gave Bellamy a comforting squeeze on his arm. "I appreciate your offer, truly. But my mother has made it clear that we owe your family too much already. I couldn't ask you to do something like this."

"I want to, Clarke," he protested, his eyes big and earnest. In the candlelight of the wedding decor, I traced patterns between his freckles with my eyes, paths that I had memorized to keep from getting swept up in those eyes. Even without a curse of obedience, I would have found it difficult to deny him anything.

"We've discussed this before." I reminded him.

He huffed, dejectedly. "Aside from my sister, you are the only person I know who has no qualms saying no to me. What's your secret?"

"I imagine you the day we met, with no boots or doublet, covered in mud." I deadpanned.  He tried to cover it up, but I know he laughed. He led me to a table to sit down.

"I heard there was a faerie here today, but I didn't see her. Did you?"

I froze. Did he suspect me of something, or was he just being curious? Had he seen me talking to Lorelei?

"I don't remember seeing one..." I answered truthfully. "What does a faerie really look like anyway?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't the slightest. Apparently she gave the couple a gift. They will be at each other’s sides for the rest of their lives.” He then shuddered. “I’m not sure if that’s a gift or curse. Love shouldn’t be dictated, not by anyone.”

It was difficult to hold back my smirk. I doubt he even realized he was parroting my words from when we were in the woods after my father’s funeral.

I hummed my agreement, and we fell into a comfortable silence, watching the guests laugh and dance to the music. I could see Bellamy's men dancing with the giants, carefully mimicking the intricate steps of the folk dances, the women stifling laughter watching them fumble through it. Jasper's gangly limbs left him tripping over his feet, even though he was the most musically inclined. Wick and Nathan were surprisingly adept at a complicated wheel dance, and I looked at Bellamy in amusement. 

"I'm going to miss you all," I lamented.

"You could stay with us," he looked hopefully at me. "You fit in with my men, and you're not afraid of getting your hands a little dirty. It's not conventional, but since when have I been conventional?"

I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. Traveling with Bellamy and his Knights had been the first time I felt like I truly belonged, where I could forget that my curse even existed. The longer I stayed with them, the longer I could see myself truly fitting in.

I shook my head before I allowed myself the illusion that I could make it work. I studied my hands, unable to look him in the eye. "It would be lovely, Bellamy," I lamented, "but you and I both know that people would gossip. And Wallace would certainly raise a ruckus."

"I don't care what other people say. I've been raised to do what I think is right, what is best for the people, not what they think is best for them. You'd be good for the kingdom, Clarke. You're as good a fighter as any of my men, and they listen to you." My stomach filled with dread. If he ordered me, I would be stuck between a rock and a hard place. "But I would be no better than Wallace if I ordered you to stay. Just remember that I'll support any decision you make-- as long as it's for yourself."

"One thing is certain; my decision to go back home is not for Wallace's sake." I promised him. "Or my mother's," I added, realizing that I was only trying to protect one person by getting as far from Bellamy as I could, so long as I was cursed with obedience.

I was protecting him.

Chapter Text

The Godmother

The devastation of Lorelei's rejection didn't really hit me until I was home again, at the Manor, wrapped in one of Maya's suffocating hugs. For such a tiny woman, her hugs enveloped me in a way that made me forget about the rest of the world.  

"There now," she had patted my hair as I sobbed. "You'll break it yourself, sweetness. You don't need that good-for-nothing faerie." My only response had been more hot tears streaming down my face. I hadn't even cried as much at my father's funeral.

Life after university grew more difficult. Wallace's control over our household grew as he continued to hold my mother's medical license over our heads. She spent most of her time away from the Manor, visiting patients. Her trips grew longer and longer, until the Queen asked her to accompany her on a diplomatic mission in Agro. Despite a chronic condition, Queen Aurora traveled almost as much as the King did, and their attention on the nobles treatment of the giants in Agro only grew.

With my mother gone, I spent all of my time in the kitchen with Maya. Wallace hated it, but that only made me more determined to display my affection for the servants who had raised me.

Cage and Emerson returned from university three months after I came home. When Wallace started ordering me around almost immediately, I knew that Cage had told him my secret. Sit up straight, change into dinner wear, get out of the kitchen, stay away from the help, don't chase away this suitor, stop sulking. Wallace was determined to made a perfect lady, a suitable wife out of me for some old noble friend of his.

The only thing that kept me going were Bellamy's letters.  

I’d started missing him before he’d even left. It was surreal, how connected I felt with him despite the fact that we’d only met once before our week in the forests outside Agro. After the wedding, he’d escorted me to Lord Wallace’s manor, his knights trailing a few paces behind. I’d fallen asleep, my head against his back, one of his hands firmly holding my tired grip around his waist. I hadn’t meant to drift off, and kept startling myself awake, until he chuckled and assured me that he wouldn’t let me fall.

The dawn was breaking purple and pink on the horizon as we approached the gates, and the others said their farewells there, leaving Bellamy and I to venture into Lord Wallace’s estate on our own. He’d reminded me, as we rode up, that I could always stay with them, that he would sponsor me without a second thought. I could only give him a tremulous smile. It had been different, turning down his offer when my secret hope had been that Lorelei would reverse my spell and things would change. Now, there was resignation that I would always have to keep my distance from him.

He asked if he could write, and I couldn’t deny him-- or myself-- that small thing. I couldn’t hurt him through paper. Maya had quirked a skeptical eyebrow at me when I'd explained that train of thought.

When his first letter from the city arrived, I walked on clouds for days. It came just as he settled into a diplomatic mission to Polis, and I eagerly awaited every new detail of his experience in a city that my father had told me so many stories about.

Dear Clarke,

Even my name is different here. In Polis, they can’t pronounce Bellamy, and it sounds like they’re asking for some cured meat instead: Belomi (with an emphasis on the ‘o’). I’ve pleaded for them to call me ‘Bell” to no avail—they are much too formal for nicknames.

Rules and order are everything in Polis, so it’s slowly making sense why my father was so insistent that I spend my diplomacy assignment here. You know how much I hate the restrictiveness of rules. But the Metropolitans with their logic and their history may win me over yet. I suppose it had to happen eventually—it would been ironic to have a king who shirks law and order. Although, as we’ve discussed, it’s not as much the order as much as it’s the law—how can you expect someone to unequivocally obey your command? It feels barbaric, really, and not for the faint of heart. There’s a lot of pressure riding on someone who must balance fairness with justice.  

And so that’s what I have endeavored to learn. All day, I am locked up in an atrium studying the history of our people—the mistakes our kings have made, the victories of our armies, and the rich traditions of each clan. I probably shouldn’t say I’m locked up—the Atrium is astounding, really, with these beautiful flowers that rival the gardens we explored in Agro. The perimeter is made up of shelves upon shelves of books, and the center is all flowers and trees. But the thick glass dome on top of everything just mirrors how trapped I feel, left to my own devices, with no one to keep me company and make me smile again. I find myself wondering what I would do to make my mother, or Octavia, or you crack a smile.

I’d hoped to impress you with my elegant prose and my witty thoughts of Polis, but re-reading this letter, I realize how much I’ve complained and rambled. You will have to wait until my next letter—maybe then I will be one step closer to being a just and fair king.

It’s been nearly four months since I last saw you last—are you still too young to marry?

Your friend,

Bellamy

After that, I didn't even mind heeding Wallace's inane orders, only held on for more stories from Bellamy. I asked him to tell me about him as a child, about the books in Polis, about the people he met. Did they have many languages in their kingdom, as we did in ours?

In return, I gave him abridged versions of the happenings at the Manor. I left out Dante and Cage's orders and their constant plot to marry me off. Instead, I gossiped to him about Maya and the palace cook, who seemed to have a budding romance. I told him stories of my father from childhood and regaled my latest clumsy incidents-- once it was a roasted chicken that slid off its plate and out the kitchen door, another time it was a stumble down the stairs that resulted in my being mummified in a bed sheet.

I asked him endless questions about his and Octavia’s childhoods, wondering how often they saw my father and the other Knights. Did they have friends at the castle? When did he realize he’d be king one day? Did he make friends with the servants? Did they go to school? He answered them all, telling me about his tutors, and the foreign worlds he would make up for Octavia based on Greek and Roman mythologies. He recounted embarrassing stories of his own, admitted the hot tempered things he'd told his parents out of defiance for his privileged upbringing. He even confided his fears and insecurities over his impending rule.

Our letters, for six months, were pages thick. We talked about everything, and each of Bellamy's letters ended the same way. "Are you still too young to marry?"

Today I am too jaded to marry, I would write in one letter. The news from our mothers in Agro says that conditions for the Giants aren't changing, they may be even worse than our last visit. My heart is to heavy to think our world would be better just because I have someone to share it with.

Today I am too sad to marry, I said in another. It's been a whole year since my father died, and I miss him more today than I did the day we met. I can't bear the thought that he won't be there to escort me.

If I wasn't too sad or young or tired, I was too angry or short or smart. Days when I needed to escape Dante and Cage, I snuck into an alcove they didn't know about and wrote more variations of my excuse. I imagined his barking laugh at my funny ones, his sympathetic eyes at my sorrowful ones, his furrowed brow when I complained about the Wallaces.

With every letter, I fell more and more in love with him. If I were truthful with myself, I'd felt that way since the woods, but I knew that letting Bellamy into my life put him, and the kingdom, in danger.

When Bellamy wrote a letter admitting to the same feelings that I had been hiding, I knew I had to stop being weak. I ghosted a letter from Cage, telling him that I had been betrothed to a wealthy noble's son in Mecha and had promptly departed Griffin Manor. That I had been embarrassed to find that Bellamy had feelings for me when I didn't return them, and that I had asked for him to never write me again.

I cried most of the day I wrote the letter, repeatedly crumpling his declarations to me and then smoothing them out to hungrily read his words to me. I was left to hope that Bellamy would be so angry to hear my betrothal that he wouldn't write again. If he tried to appeal to me, I couldn't guarantee I'd be strong enough to hold my ground.

The next six months only pushed me further into despair. My mother was still in Agro with the Queen, whose health continued to deteriorate. Her letters spoke of regret for leaving me in my own solitary hell, and I vainly tried to assure her that it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

Except it was worse. Cage and Emerson were finished with school and seemingly had nothing better to do than order me around the house. I'd effectively chased away every suitor Wallace had presented to me--- all old, wealthy friends of his--- and earned his resentment for having done so. So he banned me from social gatherings and visitors and made me work and sleep in the kitchens. It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't purposely try to separate me from Maya.

My mother provided infrequent updates of Bellamy, small snippets of his activities. She knew about the letter from "Cage" and how I'd sacrificed our friendship for his safety. She also knew how devastated Bellamy had seemed in his letters to his mother. Bellamy seems to be doing better this week, she'd written a month after I cut ties with him. He has seemingly made peace with your "engagement" and asked Aurora to pass along his regards, she wrote the next month. He adjusted to the ways of life and embraced his legal studies.

As his year in Polis ended, my mother wrote again.

The Prince and his knights joined us last night in Agro. I cannot believe that Aurora and I have been here for a year already, but we are satisfied with the progress made between the nobles and the Giants. We will return to Alpha with Bellamy within a fortnight.

I feel as though I need to warn you; Aurora and King Marcus have planned a rather grand welcome home festival for Bellamy. Three nights of balls, and all of the ladies in the kingdom will be invited.

My lovely, headstrong daughter, please don't make this harder on yourself than it already is, and please, please don't tempt Lord Wallace and his sons--- if I were you, I would avoid the celebrations altogether.

It was just like my mother to avoid giving me an order while telling me exactly what she expected me to do. I felt a surprising twinge of jealousy when I realized that Bellamy would be trying to forget about me at these cotillions. If there were only a way to see him just one more time.

All of Alpha-- no, all of Arkadia-- spoke only of the royal balls for two whole weeks. I tried to ignore the girls in town and the servants in the kitchen talking about it, but it was no use. No matter how I told myself that it wouldn’t bother me, it did. Bellamy would be back in Alpha, within riding distance of Griffin Manor. My mother and his were in constant contact. It haunted me.

Then it dawned on me. Why couldn’t I go to the balls? Bellamy didn’t need to know I was there-- we would all be wearing masks. Even if I could see him, he wouldn’t be able to see me. He would never know the difference, so where was the harm?

I knew I couldn’t let the Wallaces know I had any interest in attending. I didn’t want them to know of my interest in Bellamy, of our foiled relationship. And I also didn’t want them to ban me from attending. I knew both Cage and Emerson had hopes of distracting some poor, unsuspecting high-born women from Bellamy in their own interests of finding a wife. I’d heard Dante talking to them both about it as I served them their dinner.  With all three of their egos, I knew that if I wore a fairly modest dress and a mask, they wouldn’t look twice at me.

I told Maya my plan and she begrudgingly agreed to help me. She voiced her concern about me just breaking my heart, making it harder to walk away from him. It didn’t matter. My heart was broken regardless. I would be content just to be in his presence one more time before I walked away forever.

The days leading up to their homecoming passed quickly. Maya helped me refashion three of my mother’s dresses to look inconspicuous and fitting for a royal event at the same time (not an easy feat). We wouldn’t see her until after the first ball-- when she wrote again, she said they had been held up in Mecha and didn’t plan to get into Alpha until that afternoon.

Dante had the house staff working constantly to return the manor to how my mother had left it. I suffered through Cage and Emerson’s picky requests the entire day before-- letting out a pair of trousers, picking up a new doublet in town that was the newest fashion, summarizing the latest book that all of the girls were reading so they could appear in-touch with their interests.

The only thing that kept me from rolling my eyes and giving them a piece of my mind was the reminder that I would soon be free of their company and enjoying myself at the palace.

Finally, the three of them left the manor in their carriage and I could breathe a sigh of relief. The dishes had all been cleaned from supper before they’d even left the table, and I could hear Maya upstairs, pouring me hot water for a bath.

It was time to get ready for a ball.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: The Imposter

Once the Wallaces departed for the Prince’s masquerade in their carriage, I felt simultaneously relieved and anxious. While I could look forward to an evening out without Cage and Emerson breathing down my neck, there was much to do before I was ready.

Despite her begrudging assistance, Maya delivered on her promise. The three dresses she refashioned from the depths of my mother’s closets were as beautiful as they were inconspicuous. 

The first was my father’s favorite of my mother’s gowns, and for the first time in my life, it fit me perfectly.  The way it clung to my frame made me realize just how much I had changed in the past two years. It was a dark blue gown with gold trimmings-- elegant and yet simple enough to not draw much attention from the other women-- those who could actually have a future with Bellamy.

Maya used small magic to hide my distinctly wild blond curls; instead, I appeared to have sleek chestnut brown hair that reached halfway down my back. Behind my masque, with my hair charmed, my mother’s dress on, and delicate faerie jewelry around my neck, not only did I look like an entirely different person, I felt like one too.

I rode to the castle, enjoying the early autumn night. The miles of wood that separated the manor from the castle were difficult to navigate, but I had spent my childhood wandering through the trees, past springs and ponds. I passed the fort Wells and I had spent countless hours playing in, and laughed realizing it had never been more than a twenty minute walk from the castle.

I tied my horse, Apple, to a tree not far from the stables, and quickly joined the steady stream of subjects walking into the castle, hoping not to be noticed coming from the woods. The others were all so busy gaping at the lavish foyer, with its floral arrangements and gilded crown moldings, they practically tripped over each other.

If the guests thought the hallway noteworthy, the ballroom was even more so. The King and Queen had spared no expense in draping every rail and corner with lush summer flowers from Agro. I recognized my favorite purple rhododendrons, ones I had commented to Bellamy about during our ride back to the Wallace Estate. In the morning twilight, they'd glowed, their light purple petals infused with a bioluminescence we didn't have in Alpha. I wondered, wistfully, if Bellamy had chosen those flowers himself, remembering how magical they'd seemed,  or if the memory of them had filled his mouth with a bitter taste upon the reminder of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter. 

It was strange to walk among the people of Alpha and have no one recognize me. Even my mother was surprised when I tugged her sleeve and hissed in her ear that it was Clarke, her daughter. I hid my true identity well.  

But my disguise couldn’t hide me from Bellamy’s attentions. As I stood to the side, I watched him politely greet the queue of women in the receiving line. I admired his gracious expression, which betrayed neither boredom nor favoritism among the fawning ladies. I watched the way his lips curled and his eyes crinkled along the edges when he smiled. He’d let his hair grow too long again, and I couldn’t help smirking when he frustratedly swept an errant curl off his forehead for the third time in as many minutes. I was too far away to hear his voice, but I imagined the gravelly, deep tone as he laughed.

When the receiving line had come to an end, he approached me.  “Were you hoping to escape the tedium of small talk on receiving lines, my lady?”

I’d blushed and curtsied. “Precisely, your highness. I’m sure you’ve been welcomed home and complimented on your jacket enough times this evening. Would your evening be much improved by one more stranger vying for your attention?”

He’d laughed and it was exactly as I’d imagined it. I prayed that my flushed cheeks could not be seen behind my masque. It certainly felt as though all of the heat of my anxiety was trapped behind the unforgiving material.

“My ego has certainly been stroked enough for a lifetime,” he’d admitted and we fell into silence. “What is your name, Lady?”

“Raven,” I replied with a false thick Metropolitan accent.  He recognized it, and asked me if I was from there. Our conversation continued as we spoke about my false past growing up in Polis as the daughter of a literature professor and a healer. Then we’d danced twice, until I reminded him that he was neglecting his other guests.

He’d laughed again, a sound that I savored and committed to memory, and then he’d led me to the table where his knights sat.

“Gentlemen, please meet Lady Raven,” Bellamy introduced me jovially, as my smile froze on my face. I had only counted on fooling our friends, including Bellamy, from a distance. “She’s followed us from Polis. I expect you to return the hospitality we experienced in her home country.”

I curtsied at the table, and Nate pulled out a chair for me. “I’ll hope you afford me better than that. My people are known keep their noses so far in books, they forget their manners,” I winked.  

“Sit,” Bellamy ordered with a smile on his face, “and charm my knights as you’ve charmed me.” I sat, probably a little too quickly, judging by Wick’s raised eyebrow.

On the second night, I’d vowed to stay away from Bellamy and our friends. I watched, again from a distance, as he danced with the other ladies at the ball. Until I sensed someone behind me, and saw Wick standing there.

“Wick!” I’d exclaimed, my hand to my chest with surprise.

He’d eyed me and laughed. “You may fool everyone else, including Lover Boy, Griffin, but I’d know your voice anywhere. And only you and Octavia can make my cousin smile that way.”

My face blushed a deep red. “Please don’t tell him,” I begged. Before I could explain myself, he shook his head and assured me that from the moment that I’d sent the letter from Cage, he’d understood what happened. And he understood why.

“I admire you, Clarke. You’ve put the entire kingdom and Bellamy’s best interests in front of your own. If he knew, he’d be furious, and he’d probably fall even more in love with you than he already has.”

“I can’t take that risk,” I said quietly. “My fondness for Bellamy is a weakness that will be exploited if anyone else finds out about my curse. 

“You love him!” He crowed in victory. He danced around, and I pulled him further into the corner that we stood in, hissed at him to keep his voice down. I saw Emerson and Cage nearby, Cage’s eye caught by Wick jumping up and pointing at me. And Cage wasn’t the only one.

Bellamy noticed Wick’s outburst, and us, and made his way towards us. Wick had explained to Bellamy that his sister and I had gone to university together, and he remembered me from a trip to visit his sister. Bellamy seemed to buy it, and asked me to dance again. I’d accepted, but not without discretely flicking Wick in the back of the head.

Bellamy and I danced and spoke again at length, much to the chagrin of the other ladies in attendance. I reveled at the way Raven made him laugh, the way that I had on our journeys. He told me stories of growing up in Alpha, some of them repeats from our letters, others new. It didn’t matter to me-- I hardly paid attention to his words. I soaked in each expression, the movement of his hands, the cadence of his steps as we walked in the gardens. He never once asked me to remove my mask and reveal my face, for which I counted my blessings.

When the night of the third ball came around, Dante didn’t even ask me if I’d changed my mind about attending.  Once my mother returned to the manor, we made a show of my feigned disinterest in attending the balls.

Despite his cruel sons, I think Dante had been hopeful that I’d find someone of interest at the ball. He had already failed at pairing me up with any of the wealthy nobles who he agreed with politically, he probably thought it best for me to meet someone quickly and to get out of their hair. I doubt I was spared an extra thought in their scheme for Cage and Emerson meet noblewomen and marry rich.

When I arrived at the ball as Raven, Bellamy was already waiting for me in the grand foyer of their castle.

“You look lovely,” he bowed to me.

“Thank you, your majesty,” I curtsied back, my charmed dark hair falling into my face.

“Bellamy,” he corrected. “Now, come,” he ordered with a mischievous grin. He stepped forward and pushed the errant strand behind my ear. It was intimate, even for me, but especially me as Raven. I swallowed hard, but he hardly batted an eye. “We’re meeting my parents.”  

An order.

I obediently followed, thought my heart sank. He was focused, he was excited. He was introducing me to his parents. I would have to break his heart again by the end of the night, and Wick and Jasper and Monty, and the rest of the boys would be left to pick up the pieces. Again. I hated myself for what I had done, so selfishly.

Meeting the King and Queen felt like a haze. I nodded, smiled, spoke when spoken to. Queen Aurora was everything that Bellamy and my mother had described her to be-- she was soft spoken and kind, not to mention beautiful. King Marcus was strong and playful, just like Bellamy. I was surprised to see that the bridge of his nose also showed a sharp pattern of freckles, just like his son’s. The king teased me about distracting his son from the rest of their guests, and I blushed and retorted that I’d tried, but I could control Bellamy no more than he and his wife could.

“You are sharp, Lady Raven!” He barked out a laugh. “Your manner reminds me of an old friend, who passed away not long ago. If you can keep Bellamy on his toes the way he did, then Bellamy has chosen his company well.”

I felt stunned, sure that the King was referring to my father. Bellamy’s cheeks turned a deep red, thoroughly embarrassed of his parents’ scrutiny of me.  He hurried us away, and back to the ball, where we danced twice more, before he asked me to step into the gardens with him.

“I just want you to know, I’ve resolved to never marry.” He said, finally. We’d been walking along the paths for a few minutes now, the strains of the band and the partygoers’ conversation drifting along, reminding him of his duties as a host. He’d been clearly debating how to say what he wanted to say to me. “I, I mean-- I just want to be fair to you, in case you’ve had any expectations these past three nights. I vowed a few months ago that I would never marry because someone else told me to. I’m afraid I’ve been selfish; if it had been another time or place, I might have felt differently, but… ”

“I understand completely,” I replied. “Love shouldn’t be dictated, not by anyone.” His brow furrowed at that comment, and I realized what I’d said. I stumbled a little as we walked. “And besides,” I tried to save myself. “I have had no expectations of you these past three days. I’ve merely been collecting stories to tell my mother when I return home. ‘Oh, the Prince danced with me every night, and the King told me I had a sense of humor! And I met his knights, who were all so kind!’”

He gazed back at me, a sad twist in his smile. “And right on queue, here comes one of my loyal knights, to rescue us both from an uncomfortable conversation.”

We watched as Sir Nathan approached us quickly, greeting me briefly and turning to Bellamy to quietly murmur in his ear. I watched him take a step back, and ask Nathan if he was sure. Nathan nodded, and Bellamy’s whole countenance changed. His shoulders dropped and he held his forehead in his hands. 

“Bellamy? Nathan? What’s wrong?” I asked. Nathan was taken aback by my informal use of his name, but Bellamy’s mind was clearly in another place.

“It’s my mother. She’s collapsed,” he murmured, almost to himself, until he sprung into action. He pulled my hand and we started walking towards the castle at a quick clip. “Nathan, go get Healer Griffin; I saw her with the Wallaces earlier; damn them.”

Once inside the palace foyer, I saw my mother heading toward us from one direction, and the Wallaces coming at us from another direction. A third hallway behind me had Wick and Jasper racing toward us.

I took a step back as Bellamy turned to face me. “Stay here.”

An order.

I was frozen on the spot, instantly anchored to where I stood, in a blind spot where the four corridors met into a circular room. All three groups were getting closer, though I no longer had the Wallaces or Wick and Jasper in my sight.

My mother picked up her pace as she saw Bellamy jogging towards her. “The Queen is just fine, your highness. It was just some overexertion,” she called down the hallway.

Bellamy stopped and hunched over with relief. “Oh, thank God.” He turned towards where I stood, in the center of all the hallways, and his eyes widened.

The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, Wick lying and moaning beside me. I met his eyes, and when his widened too, I knew something was awry. Then I saw it-- my mask on the stone floor beside us.

 “Run, Clarke,” Wick whispered, just as Bellamy let out a gasp.

 Another order.

 “Clarke?” I heard the footsteps of Bellamy, my mother, Wallace, Nathan, and Cage behind me.

I ran.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight - The Conspirator

Wick didn't see me in the foyer of the hallway until just before we collided. We landed on the marble, limbs tangled, one of my shoes out of reach. My head already ached from having been literally thrown from the spot where Bellamy had ordered me to stay just moments before.

Wick took less time to gather himself and realize the thread holding on my mask had fallen loose. I'd been adjusting it all night. Everyone-- my mother, Jasper and Monty, Nate, Cage and Emerson, and Bellamy had rushed over to help us up. It was a matter of time before anyone recognized the blue of my eyes or the slope of my nose.

Wick reacted quickly. “Run, Clarke,” he ordered.

Even without the order, I would have run upon seeing the expressions of confusion and shock and, finally, hurt flitting across Bellamy’s face in quick succession. It was clear that he had realized the girl from the past three nights-- the girl with long brown hair and an accent from Polis-- was Lady Clarke Griffin. He called out my name-- my real name-- as I bolted away.

I ran faster than I ever had before, but I still couldn’t get back to the manor, pack up my things, and escape before there were footsteps outside the kitchen.

Maya was collecting my things from my bedroom while I grabbed food supplies. We’d decided that I would hide out in the Wood, find Lincoln and his tribe and live with them until I was sure it was safe to get in touch with my mother and let her know I was alright. It wouldn’t be so bad, living in the Wood with the Trigedakru…

The kitchen door being wrenched open interrupted my planning.

Cage strolled into the kitchen, hardly out of breath. I assumed he grabbed one of the horses on his way out of the palace. He looked at me speculatively, his eyes taking in my dress, the twigs and branches that had caught in my hair during my run. I'd lost both shoes along the way, and my small feet had tracked dirt through the kitchen.

“I wonder if you’ve ever realized that I am actually third in line for the throne behind the Prince,” Cage started. It was a strange thing to say, less than thirty minutes after discovering that I’d been flirting with the Prince's affections, masquerading as a foreign girl at the royal palace. I stopped my packing and turned to scrutinize his casual stance, his shrewd expression. “It's his cousin Sir Wick, my father, and then me. Now my father, I’m not worried about. He’s old, and if he becomes king, he’ll bring things back to where they should be. But the Prince and Sir Wick? They’re just in the way.”  He paced the room. When I made a motion towards the door, he laughed sadistically and ordered me to sit.

“You’re going to shut up and listen. And I know you’ll do everything I tell you to because of some messed up spell or something.”

I spat in his face. He wiped it away and handed me a dagger.

“The Prince and his knights aren’t far behind me. They’ll be here soon. And when they do get here, and sad little Loverboy asks you to marry him, you will say yes. Then you will to take this knife and you’re going to stab him in the heart,” he instructed me. “You’re going to do it so quickly that nobody will be able to stop you from slitting Sir Wick’s throat too.”

Oh God. It was worse than I thought, I realized with a cold chill down my back.

"I always knew you were a cruel, power hungry manipulator," I spewed,"but I had no idea you were capable of murder."

"No, my dear. You are the one committing the crime here. That's the beauty of my plan. And don't even think about telling someone what you've been ordered to do."

I could feel my stomach revolting against me, and the dull ache of an order that I hadn't quite obeyed yet. It weighed on me, and would continue until the opportunity presented itself. And then it would turn into a stone on my chest, a vice squeezing my head and removing the air from my lungs.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't become this monster.

I heard more horses arrive outside the kitchen door, and Lord Wallace burst through the door, Wick not far behind him.

They were both frantic and out of breath. I slipped the dagger into my left hand and hid it behind my back.

"Here's your chance, sweetheart," Cage hissed in my ear.

"No!" My cries came out closer to strangled sobs than actual words. "Don't make me do this!"

Wallace ordered me outside, where Bellamy and the rest of the men stood, most of them still catching their breath.

"Clarke?"

His voice could hardly be heard among the commotion of his Knights exclaiming over how much I looked like Lady Griffin, except for the brown hair. They surrounded me, a circle closing in. But Bellamy's voice had always anchored me, brought me back to earth.

I sobbed again, shaking my head vehemently.

He walked over to where I stood and placed both hands on either side of my face, so I couldn't look away. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears still leaking from them, but I saw the flicker of recognition from him. I remembered him fingering my muddy hair on the day we met, teasing me about my brown locks. He'd suspected even without my blonde curls, but now without the mask, he saw my face. He knew it was me.

"You don't have to be Clarke, if you don't want to," he said softly, although the crease in his brow showed his confusion.

"I'm not," I whispered, my voice breaking in unison with my heart. "I'm not her."

"No, Clarke, tell him who you are," Cage ordered me.

I tried to stop the words but they came out in a garbled cry. It didn't matter, Bellamy already knew.

"You'll do well to leave Lady Clarke alone," Bellamy barked at Cage, looming protectively between me and my foe, sensing that more was at stake here than just my name. "She is her own person, and can act on her own volition."

"Ask her then, why she is here, unmarried and obviously living in squalor, dressed like a common maiden," Cage snarled, trying to bait him.

Bellamy turned to me, his brown eyes wide. "You're not married? Why did you lie to me?" It was instantaneous, the way he could make the crowd circled around us disappear. The hurt and confusion in his eyes made mine prick with hot tears, but my mouth was bone dry. Cage was luring Bellamy right into his trap, and no one recognized it except me.

"Please don't make me answer that question," I begged tearfully. I was shaking now, anticipating what words would follow, and the piercing pain in my head and my chest that would make me want to destroy the thing I treasured most.

Bellamy frowned, more confused with every exchange, "You don't have to say anything you don't want to," he supplied, not realizing that this was precisely the issue at stake.

There had been so many things in my life, in this life that Lorelei had given me, things that I hadn't wanted to do and been ordered to do anyway. I had become the person I needed to be to survive. But if I did what Cage had ordered me to do, kill Wick and Bellamy, I wouldn't be surviving. Murdering them would kill me too. Life wouldn't be worth living. 

The rest of them-- my mother, Wallace, Emerson, the Knights, Maya-- had resorted to standing and watching the strange three-person display in front of them. Only half of them understood what I was babbling about and I doubted anyone realized Cage's end game. None of them could see the dagger that he had pushed into my left hand in the kitchen.

I could do this. I could push them all away again, this time for good, this time forever.

I gathered my breath and ignored the dull ache of the curse pressing on my shoulders. This curse, which had taken a life of its own in the last eighteen years, pushing and pulling me to the things it wanted. Orders to be obeyed, no matter who they hurt or pushed away.

"If you value your life," I supplied coldly, and gave Wick and Maya hard look, "you'll leave without any more questions, Bellamy." My voice broke again at his name.

"Your highness," Wick cut in. "We should go." Wick, my champion when it came to this curse. He could guess that this scene had something, everything to do with my obedience.

But Bellamy shrugged off the hand that Wick had placed on his shoulder. "No!" He said fiercely. "She is obviously being compelled to do something, against her will. I won't stand for it!" 

He wouldn't leave under his own volition. I should have realized this from the start. I turned to his cousin, who couldn't have realized that his life was in danger too.

"Wick, please," I begged. "You and Bellamy need to leave. I can't guarantee..."

Cage interrupted me. "Not another word, Clarke."

My mouth formed the words, but no sound came out.

I could tell that I was scaring Bellamy. I could see my Mother and Maya begging Monty, Jasper, Nathan, Finn, and Murphy to take Wick and Bellamy and leave, but Bellamy refused to budge, shaking their arms away. Maya and my mother kept their distance from me, a small miracle. I knew the moment Cage felt threatened by them, they would be in danger too.

Bellamy stepped directly in front of me now, and his broad chest, his crossed arms were all I could see. I couldn't look at his face, the confused and broken expression I could imagine just by hearing the tenor of his voice.

"Clarke, even if that letter was a farce, did you never love me? Tell me, did you love me?"

Orders on top of orders.

Bellamy's directive overruled Cage's and I found my voice again. "I did," I whispered. I focused on the freckles that dotted his forearms, once again avoiding his eyes that held so many more questions. If I'd had the heart, I would have tried to lie. But when it came to Bellamy, he was the one person who had always known what I was thinking, probably before I did. 

I had loved him when he'd slid down the hill outside the manor, covered in mud and laughing at my surprised expression. I'd loved him when he comforted me after the ogre attack, told me he'd share the burden of our actions against them. I'd loved him when he'd defended me to Lord Wallace, and when we danced at a giant's wedding until the early hours of morning. I'd loved him with every letter he wrote, revealing small secrets of his childhood and his deepest thoughts. I'd loved him when he'd confessed his feelings for me, and even more when my final letter had so clearly broken his heart had broken alongside mine.

It would do no good to lie at this point. "I do.”

I feared what would come next. It scared me that I knew what was going through his mind just by watching the furrow of his brow and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. That I could anticipate his next words. That I could want to hear them more than anything and yet dread them with every fiber of my being.

"So then marry me," he begged, and I let out a strangled cry. All those months that I'd sat in my bedroom and imagined his actions and reactions, his words, our conversations. I had imagined these words so many times, but never so broken, never so vulnerable. "Marry me and we can leave them all behind. We’ll be a woodworker and linguist and only be responsible for ourselves.” He whispered, so close and so soft that only I could hear. He was raw, so exposed, more than he’d ever let me see before, but all I could hear was death. His death. He reached to grab my hands, desperately grasping for any embodiment of what we had between us. But there was also a dagger between us, hidden in my hand. I flinched away from his reach. “Marry me, Clarke.”

An order.

He was a future king; he probably hadn't realized he'd even given an order... He had no idea what an order like this meant.

I sank to my knees, the pounding in my head and shortness of breath already in full force. I was aware of Bellamy sinking beside me. I pushed him away.  I could feel the dagger in my other hand, burning white hot for want of use of it. I needed him and Wick as far from the dagger as possible.

Tunnel vision obscured the people standing in the courtyard. I choked down tears now, the memories of the people my curse had hurt.  I remembered Maya explaining my curse to me as a child. I remembered my tutor ordering me to bite my tongue, I remembered the Cardinal ordering me to hold my love ones closer. I saw Lincoln in the woods warning me that I had to find myself before breaking the curse, I saw Bellamy comforting me after killing the ogres, I saw Wick grimly telling me that breaking the curse had nearly killed his sister.

The curse tried to force my reply. It choked me, clouded my mind, squeezed my temples like a vice. But there was no alternative. I loved Bellamy. I wanted to marry him. But not at this cost. Not for Arkadia. Not for his life. 

My fingers tingled around the dagger, as though every nerve was exposed. It was focused on Bellamy, and yet the curse left me aware of Wick in my periphery, hovering and shrugging off my mother’s attempt to get him to back up.

There was a sharp buzzing in my ear, my brain muddled through the mantra of death, death, death. Obey, obey, obey. This curse would cost me my morals, my love, my friends, my kingdom. His life was my life.

"No!" I cried out finally, and the action sent jolts of painful, horrible electricity through my body. "You can't make me! I won't marry you!" I felt spent, numb.

There was a strange silence in my refusal, like a loud noise that left a muted ringing in its wake.

He looked confused. "No one is making you do anything, Clarke," he said to me, then turned to my mother and Maya, who stood above us, terrified. "What is going on here?"

I could still feel the sharpness in my chest, as sharp as the knife still in my hands. The weight around my shoulders had suddenly lifted, but instead of feeling relief, I felt nauseous, dizzy even. As though nothing anchored me to the ground. The courtyard swayed.

"Clarke, go to your room," I heard Cage sharply demand, and yet I felt no compulsion to move from the spot where I knelt. My stomach heaved.

It was as though I lost all space and time. I looked down at the knife Cage had handed me (was it minutes or hours ago?), still somehow sitting in my left hand, this time only inches from the bodice of my gown. I couldn’t remember why it was there in my hands, I only knew it was heavy, so heavy. My eyes felt glazed and unfocused when Bellamy cradled my chin, encouraging me to look up at him. His dark eyes were pure chaos and anguish. He spoke, seemingly shouting my name, but I heard nothing except for ringing and the heavy thuds of my heartbeat in my ears.

My last conscious action was to toss the dagger away from us as I collapsed into Bellamy's arms. Once my eyes closed, the world erupted with sound; my mother screamed, Wick telling Bellamy to get me inside, Maya crying with relief. But nothing made me want to swim back to the surface more than Bellamy's pleas for me to wake up.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine - The Linguist

Time passed like water falling through my fingers. No matter how hard I tried to stay in the present, I just couldn't grasp it long enough to hold on. I caught snippets of conversation-- my mother’s soothing voice and her fingers in my hair, Nate raising his voice at someone and Bellamy ordering him to keep it down, Maya chanting a spell. Someone held my hand like it was their lifeline, constantly checking for a pulse. Simply squeezing their hand back was somehow an impossible task.

When I wasn't hovering at the surface, it was dark. Hours, weeks, days… I couldn't tell how much time passed, only that the voices around me grew more and more worried.

Each time I came up to the surface, the weight that pulled me back under felt lighter and lighter, until finally I could feel myself twitching my finger, bending a knee. All of it hurt, most of all my head.

When I finally opened my eyes, Wick was standing at the foot of the bed, grinning like an idiot. I was in my room at the manor, sunlight streaming through the windows. Three chairs were positioned by my bed. The light was blinding, and Wick must have noticed I was struggling because he quickly closed the heavy drapes. He turned to face me again, a dopey smile still on his face.

"Lady Clarke, you’ve worried too many people this last week," he said, crossing his arms accusingly at me from the door frame. The mention of a week registered in the back of my mind, but it scared me more than I wanted to admit, so I ignored it. He took a seat in the chair closest to my bed. I could see the circles under his eyes, his tight smile. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. It felt cool, and momentarily relieved the throbbing pain above my eyes. “Your fever is still quite high.”

“What happened?” I asked slowly, my tongue thick as cotton. I was still stuck in the cobwebs of my sleep, the memory of something important slipping away each time I tried to catch hold it. There were flashes of being outside, surrounded by Bellamy's knights in the dark. “Was there an ogre attack?” I remembered traveling with them, sitting around the campfire and singing to Jasper’s fiddle.

But that was too far back. I frowned. They’d returned me to my mother early in the morning, after the wedding in Agro. I'd been living at the manor with Lord Wallace, and Emerson and...

“Cage.” My voice shook at the realization, as the memory of his manipulative orders came rushing back. Wick’s eyes darkened. My heart jumped into my throat, doing nothing to alleviate the nausea that had been hovering in my chest since I’d opened my eyes. “Oh God, Bellamy? Where’s Bellamy?” I clutched his forearms to pull myself to a dizzying sitting position. “Please don’t tell me…”

Cage walked into the room behind Wick, his twisted smile sending surges of terror through my already exhausted body. I couldn’t finish my sentence; I couldn’t even breathe.

“One down, Lady Clarke,” Cage grinned sadistically at me. “Two to go.” I shuddered at his glee in making me a murderer, a monster. Why was Wick just letting him stand there, taunting us?

Wick was suddenly grasping both sides of my face, begging me to concentrate on the sound of his voice. I gripped his wrists, trying to ground myself in the coolness of his hands on my burning cheeks. “Clarke, you’re having a panic attack. You need to breathe; we’re going to fetch Bellamy for you.”

He called out to someone in the hallway, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound the blood rushing through my ears. “No, no, no, no,” I keened, tears streaming down my face and Wick’s hands. “You made me kill him, didn't you?” I faced Cage, who now stood on the other side of the bed. “You took the one good thing in my life and you ripped it away from me...” I broke down crying as Cage maniacally nodded his head and laughed at me.

Wick looked confused towards the corner where Cage stood. “Clarke, Bellamy is fine, he is safe,” he repeated. But I could still feel the dagger in my hands, the curse pulling me to stab him. I could hear Cage taunting me that there was nothing I could do about it; he had made me into a killer.

I released my grip on Wick’s hands and pushed him away from me as though I’d been burned. “Get away from me,” I moaned. “He’ll make me hurt you too.” I stumbled off the bed, backing away from both of them, seeking refuge in the corner of the room, where I couldn’t touch anyone. I could see the tears in Wick’s eyes, I could hear him yelling to someone in the hallway to hurry, but it was all too much for me to handle. I crumpled to the ground, curled up in the corner. “He’ll make me kill you like I killed…” My throat choked around his name. I couldn't believe that the curse had let me become the worst version of myself, committing murder just to satisfy the need to obey.

Cage was yelling unintelligible orders at me, and I clamped my hands over my ears in an effort to block him out. Wick was begging me to focus, telling me repeatedly that everyone was safe, nothing had happened, that this was a fever dream, a hallucination. But all I could do was try to keep myself from spitting into two. My head swam with grief, more than when I sent my final letter to Bellamy, more than when my father died. This was my fault; Cage had discovered my secret and made me murder Bellamy with my own hands and now he would take everything I had left.

The next thing I remembered was my mother sitting down beside me  on the floor, forcing me to drink something, a sedative. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” I whimpered to her as she pulled me into her embrace. My throat was hoarse, as if I might have been screaming. Almost immediately, I felt my head lolling forward. My limbs were not my own as Wick gently lifted me from the corner and laid me on the bed, where I continued my teary confessions. “I didn’t want to hurt him or Wick. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The image of Cage faded away, just as Bellamy ran into the room, clearly terrified and out of breath. “I could hear her screaming from the courtyard,” I heard him say, but I just begged my mother to make it stop. I didn't want to be haunted by what I now realized was another fever dream. I didn't want to see his gentle face, I didn't want to hear him say that he forgave me.

Ghost Bellamy stepped forward and wiped a tear away from my puffy, red eyes. I whimpered again, this time feeling the full force of the sedative’s pull. “Make it go away,” I begged them as my eyes drooped . “Make the ghosts stop. I don't want to see their faces.”

Finally, the relief of darkness washed over me. This time, though, my sleep was not dreamless.

I was in the wood, once more tied up and stuck standing amongst five sleeping ogres. I felt distraught, hopeless that I could charm my way out of this situation again.

Suddenly, Bellamy and Monty were in front of me, untying the ropes around my wrists and ankles, and tying up the ogres. I felt pure relief and joy bubble up within me. I’d been here before! I remembered this!

Bellamy and Nate and Monty and the others-- all of my boys--  carefully bound each ogre with thick ropes.

But one ogre remained, behind them, watching. Only I could see him, and only I could warn them. I yelled until I was blue in the face, but nobody heard me. I pointed at the ogre behind them, who had a strange resemblance to Cage. His hair was dark and his skin somewhat sallow, but most of all it was his pointy smile that gleamed sadistically. I knew what he would say before he opened his mouth.

“Kill them,” the ogre said, laughing. “The prince and his cousin. You’ll do whatever I say, won’t you Pretty Girl?” He leered at me.

Once again, my body wasn’t my own. I grabbed Monty’s sword from his hand, and it suddenly morphed into the dagger that Cage had pushed at me. His voice echoed in my head.

“You will to take this knife and you’re going to stab him in the heart. You’re going to do it so quickly that nobody will be able to stop you from slitting Sir Wick’s throat too.”

I watched in shock as Wick crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his neck. When I looked down at my hands, the dagger was wet and slick, my hands bloody. My stomach turned, sweat dripped down my forehead.

I looked up at Bellamy, horror in my eyes and he looked back, his surprise mirroring mine, just as it had when we were in the woods the first time. The ogres chanted for me to kill him. The one at Bellamy's feet reached up for me, and handed me the knife that I had dropped in disbelief. Bellamy reached towards me and my hand plunged towards his heart...

Back in my room, I lurched forward in my bed, dripping sweat and breathing hard. Bellamy was in the chair by my bed, a wet cloth in hand. Both hands were up in an unassuming position, his face surprised.

I could feel Nate’s watchful eyes from the doorway, loyally standing guard. He looked undecided as to whether the threats to Bellamy were greater in the hallway, or within my bedroom.

I took a few more gulps of air, and realized my hands were up in a defensive position, my eyes probably wild with fear.

“Are you real?” I asked quietly, my voice feeling less hoarse than the last time I'd woken up. Bellamy cautiously nodded his head, as if he were afraid to speak and trigger another episode. His dark eyes were wide, slowly calculating my reaction. As with Wick, I could see the tiredness behind his eyes, the paleness of his face. If he was a fever dream, my mind wasn't being very kind to his memory.

He leaned slowly towards me as though he were approaching a spooked horse, empty palms in the air.  I trembled, adrenaline still coursing angrily through my veins from what I was slowly realizing was a dream. “Are you hurt? Did I---did I hurt you?”

“You’re safe, we’re all safe. I’m just going to put the cloth back in the bowl, Clarke, and get you a glass of water, alright?”

His voice was low and gravely, as if he had slept for as long as I had. Or perhaps he hadn’t slept at all, while I had. He looked tired; dark shadows under his eyes and a wrinkled shirt and vest. The light coming in my window was dim and pink; either dusk or dawn. Either way, I’d been sleeping for hours.

I nodded, still catching my breath. The sensation of plunging the knife into Bellamy’s chest still echoed in my mind, elicited a terrible feeling of dread deep in my stomach. Tears suddenly streamed down my face, and I couldn’t muster up the energy to hold them back. I’d watch the life slowly drain from both of them, Bellamy’s dark brown eyes rolling back in his head, his last words accusing me of betraying him.

Bellamy dropped the glass back on the nightstand upon seeing my face and rushed to the side of my bed. I tentatively touched his chest, just where the dagger would have struck in my dream. “It felt so real,” I whispered, my stomach still roiling with nausea. I shook my head, crumpling into his chest. I felt his arms wrap around me, rocking me in an attempt to comfort me. “It was so terrible; it felt so real.”

I let him rock me, my eyes squeezed shut. I could feel the blood on my hands; I was certain it would be glistening on my fingers if I looked down.

“It was so real,” I heard myself repeating through the tears, rocking on the bed. Bellamy refuted my fears each time, but I could still feel the dagger, wet with Wick’s blood. When I didn't believe that Wick was unharmed too, Bellamy asked Nate to fetch Wick and my mother. I felt like I blinked too long in Bellamy’s arms, and my mother was suddenly examining my pulse, my eyes, my mouth.

She gripped my hand tightly. “Welcome back, sweetheart, how do you feel?” She asked, cautiously, exchanging guarded looks with Wick, Bellamy, and Nate. If they had looked tired and worried, she was dead on her feet. Her dress was wrinkled, as though she had slept in it, and thin tendrils of hair stick out from her bun. I had rarely seen my mother looking anything but polished.

What I really wanted from her were answers. But I compliantly catalogued my aches and pains.  “My neck hurts,” I replied as Bellamy tightened his grip around my shoulders before releasing me to sit up. ”And I'm quite nauseous. What happened to me?”

She gripped my hand tightly, as if she expected me to combust or disappear at any moment. “Get up, walk to the door and back.”

An order.

Wick’s head whipped towards her, and I looked at her crossly. “Mother, I just want you to tell me what’s going on,” I argued, appealing to the boys, who trained their gazes away from me. A second instinct now, I reminded my mother that she’d delivered an order. “Can you rephrase that, please?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. I squeezed her hand to help pull me up, and then stopped.

There was no weight on my chest, no pull towards the doorway.

There was no shortness of breath or pain in my head.

There was no silent voice, telling me obey, obey obey .

I remembered now, Cage’s final order before I collapsed into Bellamy's arms, dagger still in hand. I remembered him ordering me to this room, and feeling nothing-- no inclination to move from the spot where I swayed. I remembered the moment in which I told Bellamy I wouldn't marry him, how he'd flinched at my sobbing refusal, how I'd immediately felt weightless, like a boat that had lost its tether.

My eyes welled up, and I gaped between everyone in the room..

“You're free,” my mother whispered with a tearful smile. She clutched my face in her hands and kissed my forehead. “You did it.”

I trembled. I couldn't imagine a life in which I could choose which orders to obey, but here it was. “I'm free?”

She nodded her head. I laid my head back on Bellamy’s shoulder, never breaking physical contact with him, contemplating as they carefully catalogued my reaction.

“And the Wallaces?”

Immediately after I collapsed, a confused Finn and Nathan had arrested Cage for an attempted assassination, although it had required both Wick and my mother to explain why it was Cage under arrest and not me. And since Bellamy refused to leave my side for a full three days, an arraignment with the King and Queen of Arkadia happened in my bedroom. By Wick's account, it had been the quickest-- and most amusing-- trial he'd ever seen.

"As soon as your Mother mentioned Lorelei's name, my uncle understood."

"Because of your sister," I realized. He nodded. “You said she’d been given an order that would have put her fiance in grave danger.”

He nodded again.

I tearily struggled to take a deep breath before launching into my explanation. “I would have rather died than follow Cage’s orders. Hurting the two of you would have been worse than death.”

Wick and Bellamy eyed me warily before Wick spoke up. “The two of you. What do you mean?” The way they immediately paled, I realized no one had understood the full extent of Cage’s manipulation.

"He ordered me to kill both of you,” I explained to Wick and Bellamy. “If he got both of you out of the way, he would be second in line for the throne.” They shared a weighted look, and my mother patted my hand before she let go of it.

“I’ll need to tell the King and Queen about this, and that you’re awake,” she told us, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Get your rest, sweetheart, you need it.”

My mother took her leave, lingering at the doorway to watch me for another long moment. She’d never hovered when I was a child, always encouraging me to be independent, but I had a feeling that everyone would be particularly attentive in the coming days.

“I feel like I've been sleeping for days,” I grumbled, and weakly resisted when Bellamy shifted me back against the pillows.

“You have,” Wick pointed out. “Your fever only broke yesterday, after… the first time you woke up.”

There was no nice way to define the fever dream that had left me screaming and sobbing in the corner.

“I'm sorry if I worried all of you,” I said.

“We’re sorry you had to go through that.” Wick squeezed my hand, the same hand that Cage had pressed the dagger into. I shuddered at the memory. Cage’s depraved smile was still imprinted on my eyelids, I could hear his sadistic laugh in my head. The events that followed were still a blur, but the moment in which he ordered me to kill Bellamy and Wick in cold blood replayed on loop in slow motion.

“Me?” I scoffed. “I've been manipulated before. Never to the point of high treason and murder, but at least I can guarantee that will never happen again.”

They laughed, and I was suddenly exhausted, despite the fact that I'd been awake for no more than twenty minutes. I reflected again on the assassination attempt, lying to Bellamy about my betrothal, my deceptions during the giant wedding and at the masquerades.

"Are your parents angry about all the lies?" I turned to Bellamy. I was honestly more nervous that he was, but couldn't find the courage to voice that aloud.  

"Lies?" Nate-- levelheaded, quiet Nate-- was incredulous, and responded before Bellamy could. "Everything you've done has been in the best interest of Arkadia, Clarke. You’re eighteen years old, and you nearly laid down your life for this kingdom.” He waved his arms around, clearly frustrated by my question.

“They'd probably title you, if they didn't know--" Wick interrupted Nate, and then stopped himself, as though he had gotten ahead of himself and said something I wasn’t meant to hear. Bellamy sent him a warning glare that I couldn't decipher. "I think there's a heavy assumption that there's a certain question the Prince would like to run by you again," he said with his trademark wink. My stomach dropped, though out of nerves or hunger, I couldn't quite tell. He stage whispered into my left ear, pretending he didn't notice Bellamy’s ears turning pink with embarrassment. “But I’ve got a few gold coins riding on you making him sweat it out. Don’t forget---I provided some valuable curse intel… maybe you could pay it forward?"

I snorted. "As though saving you from being murdered by a power hungry noble weren't enough?"

I turned up to make eye contact with Bellamy, silently reassuring him that I wouldn't make him “sweat it out,” nor would I reject him the way I had in the courtyard. I had spent long enough denying my affection for him, I wouldn't wait another day.

Wick conceded. “Fair enough. Plus these past eight days have been difficult enough to be around Bellamy...” He launched into another story of Jasper and Monty standing watch at my bedside, bickering until Nate finally lost his temper and yelled at them. His words faded away as I fell back asleep.

When I awoke again, another day had passed. I was plagued again with terrible nightmares acting out different scenarios in which I followed Cage’s orders, each more devastating than the last. Sometimes we were at a wedding, other times at my father's funeral. Once, to prevent the curse from hurting Bellamy and Wick, I stabbed myself. Each time, I woke up disoriented and crying.

Wick assured me that his sister had been visited by the same nightmares, and had slept for longer, but frustrated tears still welled up when I realized my body was so weak that I couldn't walk across the room without assistance.

If my journey to recovery felt long and arduous, my journey back to Bellamy felt even longer. Despite Wick’s assurances and Bellamy’s constant physical touch and presence, he was guarded with me, cautious with every word. I feared the worst--- that he no longer wanted to marry the girl who had tried to kill him and his cousin, but still felt obligated to stand by me while I healed. It hurt me, deeply.

Finally, more than a fortnight after Bellamy’s third and final ball and the events that followed, I was fed up.

We were walking along the outskirts of the wood that bordered my family’s land with the castle, attempting to get a healthy dose of the cool fall air that my mother assured me would reinvigorate me. I was leaning far more on Bellamy’s proffered arm than I should have; we’d been outside and walking for less than an hour and I was already feeling lightheaded.

It was silent between the two of us--- par for the course as of late. But I knew he was holding back; that there were words waiting on the tip of his tongue that, for some reason, he couldn't share with me.

“I'll understand, Bellamy.” I said finally.

He stopped short. “Understand what?”

“I hurt you. I lied to you in my letters, I misled you during the masquerades, and then I put you in more danger than either of us could have ever imagined. I betrayed you and your trust in a multitude of ways.” While I wanted to get as far from him as possible, but my next request sent tremors through me and required me to hold onto him with both hands. “I’ll understand if you don't want to be with me anymore.”

There was a long silence before he spoke again. I could feel the hot tears pricking at my eyes, the lump in my throat that wouldn't let me admit just how much it killed me to let him leave. I looked straight ahead, at the stables in the distance, where we’d tried to wash the layers of mud off so long ago, where I'd earnestly laughed for the first time since my father had died.

When he pulled his hand away from mine, I fought with everything I had to keep my composure.

“Clarke,” he said, stepping away from my side, squaring himself directly in front of me. “I want nothing more than the honor of having you as my wife.”

I gaped at him; for once, my mind was unable to form words or thoughts.

“I thought I was giving you time and space to heal.” He laughed sardonically, rubbing a hand across his face.  “My birthright means that there will always be Cage Wallaces out there, plotting to hurt me and my family. I thought perhaps you wouldn't want to be linked to someone like me for the rest of your life.” He paused again. “It never even crossed my mind that you could think I didn't want you.”

Bellamy helped me settle down along a willow tree. He looked up and laughed again when he realized it was the same tree under which he'd found me hiding from the Cardinal and his orders at my father's funeral.

“The last time I sat under this tree with you, you said you were too young to marry. Since then, I've realized that I was too stubborn and immature to be a proper husband and selfless king. All I wanted was to escape and learn a trade.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “Clarke, you are stronger and more courageous than I could have imagined-- and I already held you in pretty high regard. I’m not asking you today, because I want you to consider all of the facts. But I am a stronger leader with you by my side, and it would be an honor to stand beside you as your husband.”

Sir Wick never believed me when I told him that it was his cousin who held out on me. It was probably because it cost him a wager with Monty. But  when I could finally walk to the tree line without having to lean on Bellamy and a night went without my screams waking the entire manor from my nightmares, Bellamy proposed.

I replied yes in every language I knew, and nothing held us back.

And years later, when our children begged for a bedtime story, I told them about the fairy who cursed a young, independent girl with obedience and the power-hungry noble who tried to assassinate a prince, and how magic and greed both underestimated the power of love between a young man and woman.