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They come for him when he turns 15.
In retrospect, he expected this.
He asks if he can bring Octavia. They tell him it’s safer for her here, safer for her to be with Aurora.
“She’s not like you,” Kane says dismissively, “She’s not one of us. She’s a mortal.”
“She can see through the mist,” He protests weakly.
“She’ll be safer here.” He says firmly. “They have no reason to come after her. The only reason her life has ever been in danger is because of you.”
And, well. That settles it for Bellamy. He’s a lot of things; half-filipino, a shit student, a loyal friend. But above all of that, he is a big brother. Octavia is his responsibility and if him leaving is the only way to keep her safe, well.
So be it.
____________________________
Bellamy has never known his father and god, he doesn’t want to.
Octavia inherited the best of Aurora: her resilience, her grit, her patience. Even what she doesn’t get from Aurora; her optimism, her goodness, her sharp jaw line; only serves to remind Bellamy that Octavia’s father was most probably, a decent man. (And probably had killer bone structure.)
Bellamy has Aurora’s eyes and 5% of her impulse control. He’s dyslexic, has ADHD and the worst temper. Mothers steer children to the other side of the street when they see him. He has driven teachers to tears with his impudence. One time, a boy in school called Aurora a whore and Bellamy broke his nose. (He was 12. Also, expelled.)
By the time he turns 13, he’s a regular delinquent. He skulks around the schoolyard, glowering at anyone who deigns to look at him. He picks fights on a semi-regular basis. (Never on Tuesdays because he has Latin fourth-period and that’s the only subject he enjoys.)
Weird shit happens to him on the regular, like that one time he was stalked by a man in a trench coat. Aurora called the cops but no one believed Bellamy when he said the guy only had one eye. And there was the incident when one of Aurora’s regulars started harassing her and Bellamy somehow managed to fight him off, like, a freaking grown man twice his size, and beat the shit out of him.
So Bellamy knew pretty much nothing about his father, expect that he probably was good in fights and had a pretty shit temper. So, does he want to know his father? Absolutely fucking not.
Does he still pack up his things to leave for summer camp (Camp Half Blood, he reminds himself) a place he knows his father wants him to be, anyway? Yup.
Octavia doesn’t speak to him for days after he finds out that he’s a half-blood. She’s mad that he’s leaving, that he’s going somewhere that she cannot follow. (“It’s not somewhere you want to go, O.” He begs.)
Aurora tells him that he can come back anytime, that this- this rundown, ramshackle house they have lived in for years- will always, always be his home. He cries into her shoulder and lets her cut his hair after.
On his last day, Octavia still won’t speak to him. He writes her a letter, handwriting shaky with effort, misspellings all over the place (he tries to re-read it, to make sure she’ll be understand what he means but his head hurts from trying so he gives up) and gives it to Aurora for safekeeping.
Kane comes for him after lunch and Bellamy takes his sweet time moving his things to the car and dressing but fifteen minutes later, he’s at the door and he wonders if this is the last time he’ll see all this again.
It’s a long shot but he still calls out for her anyway.
“I’m leaving,” He says, voice cracking on the word, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
For a minute, there’s nothing and Bellamy’s heart sinks but then he hears it, the sound of her running down the stairs. She throws her arms out, collapsing into him, a sobbing mess and he clings onto her as tightly, tries to soothe her by rubbing her back.
“Don’t forget me,” She whispers fiercely through her tears and in this moment, he knows, he just fucking knows, that everything’s going to be okay. Octavia is strong, unbelievably so, and she’s going to become an amazing woman and he can only hope that he will be able to witness it.
“Never.” He promises her.
She pulls away first, face soaked with tears, and he brushes them away with the sleeve of his jacket. His mother gives him one last kiss on the cheek and just like that, on a humid Tuesday afternoon, he leaves.
____________________________
On his first day, Kane gives Bellamy a sleeping bag and an escort to cabin eleven.
His escort introduces himself as Miller, head counsellor of cabin eleven, son of Hermes. Then he says easily, “So are we sort of brothers or are you undetermined?”
“Undetermined.” He says through gritted teeth. Miller gets the message and doesn’t probe further, which he is grateful for.
The Hermes cabin is a mish mash of regulars and undetermined kids, and it’s easy to tell them apart. The Hermes kids don’t look alike- but there’s something about the mischievous smiles, the inability to stay still- that makes it clear who they are. Bellamy knows, almost instantly, that he’s not one of them.
The cabin is cramped and small and he’s forced to sleep on the floor, right by the door. It slams into his spine every time someone opens it and it’s pretty fucking great, all things considered. There’s a sense of camaraderie in the air that he likes, a kind of us against the world thing.
He becomes fast friends with Miller and Jasper, another Hermes kid. They spend the first few days sussing him out, trying to figure out who his dad is. Bellamy’s pretty great at Ancient Greek but he can’t be a kid of Athena so they rule that out quickly.
Miller does steal him more books from cabin six though. Bellamy likes to spend most of his free time reading but his vision is shit, so he mostly holds the book like an inch from his face and squints a lot. What? He doesn’t know where to get glasses, for one.
He was laughably bad at archery and he has a weak stomach so when a Apollo camper tries to teach him to stitch, he vomits on her shoes. Needless to say he’s not very popular with cabin seven. (Head counsellor Finn is especially disdainful and it takes him all of his willpower not to punch him in the face.)
Raven Reyes, cabin nine’s head counsellor, tries to walk him through fixing a stereo but he has neither the skill or patience, she scathingly points out. “Not one of ours,” She mutters, wrenching the hammer out of his grip. It was a wasted trip but he really likes Raven and some of the other Hephaestus kids like Wick, who makes him his armour for sword fighting.
“Maybe there’s been a huge mix up and you’re a Aphrodite kid,” Miller says, ruffling his hair as he grumpily sharpens his sword, “You got the looks for it. Fucking pretty boy.”
Bellamy’s good at sword fighting and wrestling though, which makes him a valuable asset to cabin eleven considering most of them are pretty mediocre at it.
“Cabin five always crushes us at capture the flag,” Jasper explains moodily, “Indra is a war machine. We have you now though,” He says and he brightens considerably, “So maybe you’ll end our losing streak.”
Capture the flag is like, a big deal in Camp Half Blood, Bellamy soon realises. Alliances are made weeks in advance and the days leading up to the main event are filled with tension and suspicion. A fight breaks out between a camper from cabin four and cabin twelve and he doesn’t know all the details but it involves tomatoes and strangling with vines so he’s sufficiently afraid.
Two days before the big day, a girl from cabin six approaches Miller during lunch.
“We need to talk.” She says bossily, sliding in next to Bellamy.
“Excuse me?”
She makes a frustrated noise, rolling her eyes. “Not you, newbie. I’m talking to Miller.”
“Uh. Wow, you’re rude.”
She’s tiny, barely comes up to his shoulder. All pointy elbows and knees, looks barely a day over fourteen but she carries herself with the confidence of someone who has been here awhile, someone who is in charge. Blonde hair, blue eyes, regal looking. Princess, he thinks immediately and she sniffs disdainfully.
“Clarke, meet Bellamy. He’s a force to be reckoned with when he has a sword.”
“Undetermined?” She asks Miller.
“Yeah,” Bellamy cuts in, annoyed that they’re talking over him, “Right here you know, princess. You could just ask me yourself.”
“Princess?”
“Well, if the crown fits.”
“Well, I didn’t know that cabin eleven had pompous assholes-”
It went on for several minutes. Bellamy had to give it to her. She had a lot of creative insults. He figured she probably didn’t have much cause to use them. It ends with Jasper throwing a spoonful of mashed potatoes at them (Bellamy ducks in time. Clarke doesn’t) and she stomps off back to her table.
Miller sighs into his chicken. “You lost us an ally there, Blake.” He says a tad reproachfully.
“Shit, she’s someone important?”
“Try head counsellor of cabin six,” He grumbles, stabbing at his food, “Fuck. We better round up the rest of the cabins not in an alliance and try not to embarrass ourselves too much.”
“We won’t. We are going to beat them into the dust.” He says automatically. His mind is racing with questions though- how is a fourteen year old head counsellor for one? He sneaks a glance over at her. Her head is bent over the table and she’s murmuring conspiratorially to a bunch of other kids from her cabin. Shit.
“God, and you’re into motivational speeches? How are you not from Aphrodite?”
____________________________
In this round of capture the flag, cabin five and cabin six lead the teams, so its pretty much a big showdown between Ares and Athena campers with the rest of the cabins forming alliances.
Miller manages to secure an alliance with Anya, head counsellor of cabin five, with the skin of his teeth, so Bellamy finds himself decked out in their colours (red and black) the day of the game. He catches Raven’s eye from across the field and she rolls her eyes playfully at him. She’s standing next to Clarke, a grey sash around her waist.
“So if one of us manages to get the flag, we get to repaint it and lead the next time?”
“Yup,” Jasper says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Don’t get your hopes up though. Cabin six is really good. Clarke is a war strategist and see that Asian kid there? His name is Monty and he’s almost a genius. Plus they have cabin nine on their side. I’m calling it. We’re not winning this one.”
“Monty is a genius,” Miller says brusquely.
It’s surprising for Bellamy whenever Miller says nice things about someone other than him and Jasper, because, well. Miller doesn’t like just anyone and is generally pretty hard to impress. He either respects you or he doesn’t. No in between. He raises his eyebrow at him but Miller is looking pointedly away. Interesting.
The horn sounds and Bellamy quickly loses Miller and Jasper in the crowd. He fights off a bunch of Athena and Apollo campers and he’s not bragging but it’s laughable how easy they go down. He goes deeper into the forest and sets off a trap that launches fireballs at him. He ducks and avoids becoming barbeque but his eyebrows are singed.
It’s a good thing though, he tells himself as he heads further into the forest, it means he’s close. No reason to set a booby trap if he’s heading in the wrong direction.
Sure enough, he emerges in a clearing and there’s the flag. The Demeter campers tried to conceal it by camouflaging it behind some vines and plants but he hacks away at them with his sword easily. He’s figuring out which way he should go when someone tackles him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.
“Did you seriously think,” Clarke pants, “That I’ll leave the flag unguarded? You’re an idiot.”
Bellamy tries to push her off but she’s surprisingly strong and somehow managed to bind his hands together with the vines he hacked off the flag. He glares at her and she sticks her tongue out childishly, slipping the flag between the belt loops of her jeans.
“Now, what do I do with you? Roll you into the creek until I send Miller to get you after the game or throw you into Wick’s trap by the tree?”
“You must really like the sound of your voice considering how much you talk.”
“I’ve been told that I have a pleasant voice.” She says mildly. Someone cries out in the distance and he makes use of the distraction to kick out at her legs. She falls, slamming against his side and they’re full on wrestling each other at this point. Clarke jabs her elbows into his ribs repeatedly (ow) and he’s pretty much sitting on her but she’s not conceding.
She slams her elbow up into his nose and he faintly registers how painful it is but it’s not enough for him to back off. Bellamy hates admitting it but he never feels quite alive as he does when he’s in a fight. He’s not one to back down, not one to fail and he loses himself in the frenzy of limbs and punches and grunts.
Then Clarke gasps and just like that, he knows.
“Son of Ares,” She laughs, spitting in the grass as she stares at the boar gleaming over his head, “I should have known.”
“What’s this supposed to be?”
“He’s claiming you.” Clarke says. “Congratulations, I guess.”
His hands are bloodied and bruised and he’s shaking and this, he thinks, is not how he would have wanted to know.
“Figures.” Bellamy mumbles and when the Athena campers burst in wielding Ares’s flag, Monty raised on Wick’s shoulders, Clarke shouting, he feels absolutely fucking nothing.
____________________________
It’s not like things change drastically after Bellamy moves to cabin five.
He’s still friends with Miller and Jasper, for one. He still reads by the lake every morning. He bugs Raven and Wick in the afternoons and tries not to laugh at Wick’s pathetic attempts at flirting. He goes for the parties the Aphrodite campers have and kisses a few girls.
The only thing that changes about his carefully planned schedule is Clarke Griffin.
She starts showing up every morning at the lake, armed with her own book of choice. Most of the time she doesn’t say anything, just sits there, dangling her feet in the water and absorbed in her own book.
Sometimes she makes scathing remarks about his book. Sometimes he says something just to get a rise out of her. But most of the time, they just read together in companionable silence.
He’s not going to lie. He likes it. Clarke’s serious a lot but sometimes he coaxes a laugh out of her and it feels like a major achievement, almost comparable to winning against cabin six at capture the flag.
Sometimes Clarke brings her sketch book instead and they talk. He learns about her father and he tells her about Octavia. Bellamy describes her the best way he can and the lines on her book take the form of Octavia’s face, small and sharp and fierce. Bellamy has the drawing stuck up above his bed.
He’s reading The Iliad (more like, holding the book at a dangerously close level and squinting hard) when Clarke comes up to him, wrenches the book from his grip and just plants one on him.
“Erm,” Bellamy manages after she pulls away, “What was that for?” (He is not blushing. He has kissed girls before and Bellamy does not blush.)
Clarke shrugs, “The girls in cabin ten were making a big deal over the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone before. So.”
“So you thought ambushing me was a great idea?”
She flushes, “Well, I didn’t think you would mind.”
“I don’t,” He says quickly, “I mean like, not entirely. Just like, you know. It was erm, surprising. I guess. Whatever.” He ducks his head and tries to go back to reading, face foolishly hot. Jesus.
It’s not a big deal. It’s just that it’s Clarke Griffin and he’s never really thought about this.
“You need glasses.” She says after an embarrassingly long pause.
Bellamy snorts. “Sure princess, pick up a pair for me, won’t you?”
“Fine,” She says stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest, “I will.”
And true to her word, she returns the next day with a pair of black rimmed glasses. She doesn’t even hand it to him, like a normal person. Just comes over, wrenches the book out of his hand while he bleats helplessly and jams it on the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t say I don’t keep my promises,” She remarks, crossing her legs and opening her sketch book.
“Thanks?”
Reading is a lot easier after that and he doesn’t look half bad in glasses. Clarke admits that she may have harassed Raven to make them so he drops over to cabin nine to thank her. He wasn’t expecting whatever this is.
“Are you dating Clarke?” Raven asks bluntly. Bellamy chokes on his orange juice, splutters something unintelligible. What?
“Answer the question, Blake.” She says, waving her hammer at him threateningly.
“No…? Not that I know of?”
“Okay,” Raven says serenely, going back to assembling some scrap metal on her table, “Just thought I would ask.”
He’s probably going to regret this but he asks her anyway, “Would it be such a bad thing though?”
“If you were,” She says, pausing to roll her eyes, “Hypothetically, into Clarke?”
“Erm, yeah?”
“You’re an idiot.”
And that’s, that.
____________________________
Bellamy gets to head out of camp boundaries for quests when he turns 16 and naturally, Clarke wants to come too.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” He grumbles.
“Please,” She says dismissively, stomping up the steps of the big house, “You wouldn’t survive two seconds out there without me.”
“I went for two quests without you.”
“Miller had to drag you back. You were comatose. For days.”
“Whatever.”
He gets Kane’s permission to bring Clarke out with him (he has to do this every fucking time they head out and god, he hates it) and they leave within the hour.
“Supposed big three material,” He tells Clarke, bumping into her shoulder companionably as they walk, “Everyone at camp is speculating that this girl could be the daughter of Zeus or something. Prophecy kid.”
“I’ll believe it when I see her.” She says. He knows that Clarke has never been a big believer of prophecies or the Oracle and he can’t say that he blames her. Bellamy hates vague, cryptic stuff that he can’t make sense of. Clarke’s just logical and not into predicting the future. Which is kind of ironic considering she’s dating a kid from Apollo.
“How’s loverboy?” He can’t help but ask.
“Finn,” She says, grinning widely, “Is great, thanks.”
“Why don’t you just go on quests with him then?”
The smile slides off her face. “He doesn’t want me to.”
“Doesn’t want you stealing his glory?”
“I don’t know,” She snaps, “He won’t tell me. I think he’s worried for my safety.”
“Worried for your safety?” Bellamy tries to keep the incredulity he feels out of his voice, “Princess, you out rank him at sword fighting and wrestling. You’re the fastest rock climber I know and a downright genius. If anything, you should be worried about his safety.”
She’s blushing and he resists the urge to do something stupid, like tuck the loose lock of hair behind her ears. He’s not an idiot, he knows he has a stupidly stupid crush on Clarke. Doesn’t mean he’s going to do anything about it.
They stake out behind the school for a few hours, just to observe the kid and see if there are any potential threats. Clarke identifies a few empousa disguised as cheerleaders but Bellamy’s pretty sure they’re just assholes by nature.
He’s forced to admit she’s right when one of the cheerleaders launches herself at their target, teeth bared. Shit.
“Told you so!” Clarke huffs as they scramble to their feet, bursting into the otherwise deserted classroom. The kid (tiny and unimpressive. One of the big three’s kids? Really?) stares at them, incredulous, while the empousa snarls at the both of them, wary but poised to strike.
“You got this?” She mutters and he spares her a quick nod. He slashes out at the empousa when she charges at him, forcing her back, and with that distraction, Clarke slips over to the kid and grabs her.
He’s doing pretty well, keeping the empousa at bay and watching out for Clarke when he fucking trips over a power cord.
“Motherfucker!” He swears, his elbow slamming down against the ground painfully, and the empousa is onto him in seconds, fangs clamping down onto his neck.
“Bellamy!” He hears Clarke cry and before he can yell at her to stay back, she comes charging forward. The empousa backhands her into a wall and his blood runs cold at the sound of a hard snap. The sound of bones shattering. Clarke.
He regains his grip on his sword and with all the strength he can muster, shoves the empousa off him before running his blade through her chest. She disintegrates in seconds.
He runs over to her crumpled form, calls out her name. His fingers are shaking so badly and he can’t remember what she taught him- how to look for a pulse, how to perform CPR- and this cannot be how he loses her, he thinks vehemently, this is not how she goes.
“She’s breathing,” A voice says timidly, and he’s joined by the girl, “Her chest is moving, see?”
She’s right, Bellamy realises and he’s never been so relieved in his entire fucking life. He gives a rueful chuckle, runs his hand over his face only to realise that its wet.
“You have a name, kid?”
“Charlotte.”
“Okay, Charlotte.” He says, after he scoops Clarke up in his arms gently, “I’m going to bring you somewhere safe now.”
____________________________
One broken femur later and Clarke is out of commission for the next two weeks.
“You can’t come with me anymore,” He tells her after she gets her diagnosis, “I mean it, Clarke. Not until you’re of age and Kane approves you to go for solo quests.”
“I can’t believe you,” She says angrily, “It’s not like I haven’t gotten worst injuries. Anya accidentally skewered me during capture the flag and I broke three ribs! This is practically nothing-”
“That’s different.”
“How is it any different?”
“Because this happened on my fucking watch!” God, he doesn’t mean to shout but it happens anyway and his eyes are stinging again. “I’m supposed to keep you safe, Clarke.”
Her gaze softens and she grabs his hand. “Bell. Look at me.”
“We’re not talking about this,” He manages, “This is over.”
The next two weeks are horrendous.
Clarke’s not speaking to him for one, and he hates watching her hobble around everywhere, a constant reminder that yes, he failed her and yup, he’s a shitty friend. Miller and Jasper are both out on their respective quests and Raven is busy with Wick so he does everything solo now.
Mornings are the worst. He misses her the most then. Her friend Monty seems to have taken to shadowing him though, sitting by the pier eating toast when he’s reading and volunteering to practice sword fighting with him. He wonders if she sent him at first but later chalks it up Miller.
“You know, she misses you a lot.”
Bellamy shrugs, wiping the sweat off his forehead, “But she’s still mad at me.”
“Well, Clarke hates it when people tell her what to do for one. And she’s having a pretty rough time now, with the breakup and all. So she’s wallowing a lot.”
“Breakup?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know? Finn’s been cheating on her with some girls from cabin ten and I, uh, guess she found out.”
It goes against every part of his nature not to hunt Finn down and beat the shit out of him but Bellamy knows it’s not going to help. So he forces the anger down, thanks Monty and goes over to cabin six.
She’s reading, her hair fanned over her pillow, leg propped up. Her eyes are puffy and she’s sickly pale. He misses the Clarke he sees by the lake with him every morning. Sunkissed and tanned and happy.
“Still mad at me?” He was going for sarcastic but his voice breaks a little and he just sounds pathetic instead.
She snorts but reaches for him anyway. He envelopes her in his arms gently and runs his thumb over the divots in her spine when she starts to cry. She feels small and frail in his arms, delicate. He never thought he would think of Clarke in those terms.
She loses steam after a while, curling up against his chest and he plays with the ends of her hair absentmindedly. He should probably ask her if she’s feeling better now, or maybe how her leg is healing but he doesn’t really have the words for it.
“Sorry,” Is all he mumbles instead, “Not about Finn, but about trying to tell you what to do. It wasn’t fair.”
Clarke sniffs, slapping his chest lightly with her palm, “You were such an ass.”
“Yeah, well. You’re not wrong.”
She chuckles and he tightens his grip on her waist. “You want me to beat the shit out of him, you know, scare him a little?”
“No. Just stay here with me, okay?”
He nods and she buries her face into the crook of his neck, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear and he suppresses a shiver. He really should have thought this through.
But eventually her breathing evens out and well, it’s not like he can move without waking her so he just stares at her instead. Her hair is a tangled clump at the back of her neck so he works it out with his fingers gently, braiding it once he pulls them free. Octavia liked the french braid best so he goes for that. The movement is soothing, familiar, and he finds himself nodding off after a while, resting his chin on her head.
“Bellamy!”
He jerks awake and Clarke makes a noise, but thankfully, stays asleep. He stares at Monty until he says apologetically, “Sorry, but Miller’s back and he says he needs to see you.”
So he carefully extricates himself from Clarke and pulls her blanket up to her chin. She whines and turns over, muffling her face into the pillow.
“Keep an eye out for her,” He tells Monty as he turns to leave.
“Did you- oh my god- did you braid her hair?”
____________________________
The world goes to shit when Bellamy turns 17 and it’s all fucking Kronos’s fault.
Honestly, it’s really shitty timing because it happens just when things are finally looking up. He actually got to go home three days ago to see his mother and Octavia and no minotaur came barrelling in to interrupt their tea, so that was great. None of his friends are dead or maimed or anything like that so that’s another bonus.
He’s still really into Clarke and he gets the feeling that she’s into him too so they’re sort of dancing around it and there’s a lot of awkward flirting which is, in his opinion, awesome. He really should have gotten his head out of his ass sooner. (He should probably just tell her but it’s just not the right time, okay?)
Then Kronos begins to rise and everything goes bad.
The barriers protecting Camp Half Blood goes down so they have to implement guards at the borders instead. Monsters are constantly reforming, now at an accelerated rate, which means everyone is fucking exhausted from fighting the same shit over and over again. (Also, they hold grudges. Bellamy nearly gets his neck ripped off from this empousa before he remembers why she looks so familiar)
Everything boils down to the child of the prophecy. Everything boils down to a thirteen year old Charlotte. Bellamy’s not feeling too optimistic about this.
“This is it.” Miller says, as they stand the crest of the hill, watching as an army of monsters march towards their home. “Final stand, buddy.”
Bellamy snorts. Figures Miller is going to be a drama queen. “Yeah. Got any declarations of love for me?”
“Not really.” But Miller still hugs him anyway.
“Sort of brothers.” Bellamy mutters into Miller’s shirt.
“What?”
“So, are we sort of brothers or are you undetermined?” Bellamy repeats, and it’s funny how that sticks with him, even after two years, “I’m telling you now. Sort of brothers.”
Miller laughs, a proper, full-bodied one, teeth flashing. “Man, you sure you’re not an Aphrodite kid?”
“Shut up and go declare your love for Monty.”
They head back down the hill towards the camp and Miller peels off towards cabin six. Bellamy is tempted to follow, to look for Clarke, but he’s on the front line of defence so he has to put his armour on first. He forces himself into his cabin instead.
He’s feeling a little shaky after he puts on his armour and a part of him is tempted to pray to his dad, but his pride stops him. He tightens the laces of his boots and heads out.
“They’re coming!” Anya shouts when he steps out, “Positions!”
He nods, pulls his sword out at the ready, when he catches a glimpse of blonde hair.
She flanks his left, bow and arrow drawn, hair thrown up in a ponytail. There’s dirt on her cheek and god, she has never looked more beautiful.
Nothing to lose, he thinks and he decides to go for it. “Hey princess, how about a kiss for good luck?”
She laughs, “Are you kidding me? Are you making a move on me now?”
There’s a roar in the distance that shakes the ground and he should be afraid, should be terrified but he has Clarke here with him. She’s his best friend and his anchor and things are always, always better when she’s around. This time is no different.
“No time like the present,” He says, shrugging.
“You always had bad timing.” She mutters, getting onto her tiptoes and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, lingering a little close to his mouth. He’s a little dumbfounded that she actually went for it.
“Come back alive and I’ll give you a proper one, okay?”
He grins at her and the last thing he sees is her smile before they’re swallowed up by the tide.
____________________________
Bellamy’s not exactly doing badly but all things considered, things could be going better.
He has claw marks over his arms, a crazy drakon ripped half his armour off and he’s pretty sure the flesh-eating horses tore a chunk off his leg. So you know. Never feeling better.
He’s exhausted and his body is aching so, so badly. He just wants a nap and for all of this to be over. He wants to give up.
But then he sees Miller and Monty and Jasper fighting off a hydra, and Raven and Wick are blowing things up with their terrifying invention that spouts greek fire, and Clarke. Clarke skewering hell hounds and manticores with her arrows and he can’t give up, he can’t lose hope if his friends haven’t. So he lifts his arm, charges back in and slices off the head of a gorgon.
They’re turning things around, he tells himself, chants it like a mantra, they’re winning, they’re winning, they’re winning- and then something slams into him, the impact sending him flying, and he tastes blood in his mouth.
His ears are ringing but he thinks Clarke is calling out for him. He lifts his head, dazed, thinks, jesus, was that truck? Before he realises what he’s looking at.
A colchis bull. Made entirely of bronze, fire breathing assholes. He never thought he would have to deal with one in his lifetime. It paws the ground, breathing heavily, ready to charge at him. Move, he grapples for his sword, tries to lift himself to his feet. He can’t get up. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton. It charges.
Then an arrow embeds itself into the side of the bull, forcing it to halt in its tracks, stumbling. This gives him enough time to get to his feet, but he’s dizzy, unbalanced. The earth sways around him and suddenly, she’s there, holding him up. He leans into her heavily, breathes her in.
“Bellamy, we need to move. Please.”
It’s over. He knows it’s over because there’s no way they can survive this. They’re losing, they’re being slaughtered. She’s bleeding too, a deep cut over her eye and mud smeared all over her arms. This is it, he thinks, and well, at least he gets to die looking at her.
The ground shudders below them and it’s as if a switch had been flipped. The colchis bull explodes, fragments of the bronze slicing against his skin as he shields Clarke, and then it’s all just dust, dust, dust.
In the sudden silence that falls over the camp, Clarke gasps, “She did it.” And Bellamy realises.
It’s over.
Someone shouts in triumph and everyone begins to chant Charlotte’s name. He grins at Clarke stupidly, his hand reaching up to caress her face, and they’re kissing. She nips on his lower lip and he grins against her mouth, tasting salt and blood and it’s pretty fucking perfect.
He feels something warm drip against his eye, and for a moment he thinks she’s crying, before he comes to his senses. He pulls away slightly, her hand still buried in the curls at the nape of his neck, “Maybe we should do this again when you’re not dripping blood on me.”
She bursts into laughter, burying her face into the crook of his neck and her hair is in his mouth but he doesn’t care. They’re not dead, he probably needs to clarify this but he’s pretty sure Clarke Griffin is now his girlfriend, and the titans are gone until the foreseeable future.
Best fucking day ever.
____________________________
In the end, they decide that the lake is still the best choice.
Barriers are removed for a day so Octavia and Aurora can attend and Clarke makes the rings under Raven’s tutelage. (“I made them from my arrowheads,” She says, all smug, “Because it’s symbolic and shit, you know? The couple that fights together, stays together and what not.”)
It’s a low-key affair, pretty traditional, except for the weird rings and the fireworks that misspells Bellamy’s name. And when it’s all over, Clarke curled up against his chest, he finally brings himself to ask.
“So, what now?”
Because they’ve been for more than ten years, longer for Clarke, and Camp Half Blood is home, will always be home, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re twenty seven and at a summer camp.
“I don’t know,” She says sleepily, tracing patterns on his arms, “But we’ll figure it out.”
“Sucks that we are leaving though. This was home for the longest time.”
She smiles, adjusts his glasses that sits a little crookedly on his nose, “Home is wherever we both are, you big idiot. Now can we just cuddle without you worrying already? God.”
Clarke’s the smartest person he knows, and his wife, so he listens, obviously. Or he tries to, at least.
“So what do you think of, I don’t know, some place like Rome for our honeymoon?”
She weaves her fingers into his, and pitches up to give him a sound kiss on the lips just like she had done so many years ago, and murmurs, “Rome sounds pretty fucking perfect.”
fin.