Bellarke One Shots

Bleeding For Clarke

Author's note: It has literally been years lol. I'm rewatching The 100 and decided it was time to reread these. They're... Definitely younger me's writing. I'll be fixing these up and republishing them. I might write a few more one-shots and then I'm officially ending this collection. I might also try to finish my other Bellarke fanfic just to give some closure. Sorry for taking a 5 year hiatus... I was just... Copying the time when Clarke and Bellamy were separated... haha...

Anyway, here's the edited version:

[Originally published August 3, 2018]

[Edited February 11, 2024]

Bellamy's POV:

The echo of knuckles hitting bare flesh bounces off the hallway walls. My knees ache from being made to kneel on the hard ground for longer than I care to dwell on. Miller takes another hit to the face from one of A.L.I.E's puppets which makes his skin split. My blood boils at the sight, but I'm powerless to stop them. I close my eyes and put my head down, desperately wishing the noise would just stop.

Almost as if my wish has been granted, all at once the noise ceased and the puppets began to speak in unison. "She wants Bellamy. She says he's the only way Clarke will talk."

Fuck. My head shoots up at the sound of my name. Fear instantly takes over my body and I struggle to not let it show.

Octavia's stone-cold exterior cracks and she begins to scream. "No! What about Abby? Clarke will crack if you hurt her!"

The man turns to my sister and tilts his head to the side. He opened his mouth and a robotic female voice came out.

"Clarke's mother is dead and she still will not talk. Through all of the memories of your people, I can see that Clarke will never sacrifice Bellamy Blake," After the AI finishes speaking, the man rams O in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. She doubles over and groans in pain.

I open my mouth to yell at him, but they take the chance to gag me. With heavy metal chains around my wrists and ankles, I have no strength left and let them drag me along. My thoughts drift off, naturally landing on Clarke. It's like she is engraved into my very soul. Ever since I met her, even in times of absolute terror- I can only think of her. Her sunny blond hair and ocean blue eyes, her beautiful face, the perfect way she says my name...

I have no idea why I think of her and do my best to push those thoughts away. I have to prepare myself for the pain I will no doubt suffer and the blood I will lose. Because I wasn't paying attention to what was going on, I didn't notice when I was dragged into the throne room until the sun hit my eyes, blinding me momentarily.

When I'm able to see again, I instantly know that the sight in front of me will give me nightmares in the future. That is- if I live long enough to sleep again. Clarke is strapped to a wooden pole in the middle of the room with blood dripping from what I assume are stab wounds. Tears stream down her face and she keeps saying she's sorry. I glance to my left and my eyes widen. Abby is hanging from a noose around her neck and I strain to hear faint hiccups.

The puppets drag me into the room to put me in front of Clarke and shove me, making me bite my tongue as I fall flat on my face; blood slowly leaks from my mouth and I spit it out when they yank me up. She looks me in the eyes and starts sobbing louder. When I look into her eyes, I can only read two emotions: regret and heartbreak. I give her a small smile, trying to show her that I don't blame her, but she continues to sob and tell me how sorry she is. They take my gag off, letting us stare at each other for a few minutes.

My heart breaks for her and I feel a single tear trail down my cheek. It's not long before a fist connects with my jaw and a wave of pain follows. Seconds later, a foot savagely meets my ribs and I can't stop the groans of pain from ripping from my lips. I quickly roll over and cough up my blood before I choke on it.