It had been a long day.

Yet the camp was still abuzz with nervous tension.

Bellamy barely noticed it as he walked through, lost in his thoughts. The battle had been brewing for a while now, the climax was imminent. Many, if not all, would be lost to the Grounders when they descended, but what were the alternatives?

The Grounder commander had been in talks with the Chancellor for days now but no decisions had yet been reached. The only word they'd gotten was to discreetly prepare their people for war. And so they did.

They spent their days creating makeshift weapons to supplement the arms they found in the bunker. Crude swords and spears, crafted for women and children to defend themselves against warriors who had been bred for this. Warriors who had perfected the art of crafting weapons from the earth.

They would lose.

Bellamy entered his tent and took off his shirt, battle scars riddled his skin and his eyes followed them across his body. There'd be more soon.

He rubbed his tired his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. The stress and tension and labour were running him down and he didn't know how long he could go on like this. He felt some solace in the realisation that at least it would be over soon. It would happen any day now, he felt it in his gut. Either they'd attack or some horrifying compromise would be reached, damning them all to a fate worse than death.

He didn't know which would be worse.

He laid back onto his bed and closed his eyes.

Maybe the best option would be to run. Gather the camp and go forth, forging a new path for themselves away from the constant threat. But where would they go? And what horrors await them out in the world? Rather the enemy you know, right?

There had to be a better way. There had to be some kind of solution that would leave his people safe. Leave his sister safe. There just had to. Hell, he'd hand himself over in a heartbeat if it meant his sister could lead a long, happy life. But he wasn't what they wanted. He was sure they wanted peace too. They just needed to find some common ground.

Dread filled dreams of death consumed him and he tossed and turned through the night, unable to find peace. The faces of the ones they lost swam through his mind, reminding him that heartache was around the corner and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His people would be crucified.

He woke in the early hours of the morning, before the sun. The camp was silent, as his people tried to find some comfort in their dreams. He looked over the camp and wondered how long it would be before chaos ensued. There was a hill nearby, and by now he had been on earth long enough to know that the sunrise was the most beautiful thing you could see. So he made his way over and watched it silently in solitude as he tried to clear his mind and focus on his preparation for the battle ahead.

"Bells?" Clarke's voice startled him slightly, but he would never let her know that. She walked over and perched herself on the log next to him, her blonde hair shining in the morning sun. He'd never been attracted to her, but there were times he'd look at her and the blue of her eyes, or gold in her hair, would catch him by surprise and he'd be startled by the beauty. He quickly shook the thought from his mind and turned his gaze back towards the sunrise.

"It's quiet out here." He stated, more to break the silence than to engage in conversation.

"They came to a decision last night." She turned to face him and his breath caught in his chest. The look in her eye was grave, and he lost all hope at a better tomorrow.

"What is it?" He asked, he heard his voice tremble but hoped she didn't pick up on his weakness. He needed to keep up his strong façade so everyone else would be strong too.

"I don't know yet, they've called a meeting to fill us in. But it can't be good news or they would have just told us, right?" Her nerves were apparent in the tone of her voice. In his mind he agreed with her, they would have had a bonfire feast if there had been an amicable outcome. The fact that they required a meeting to discuss moving forward only meant that it would be a hard road forward.

"When?" He asked, unsure whether he wanted an answer, or whether he'd even attend. Running was always easy for him. The only reason he ever stayed to fight was because of Octavia, if she wasn't around he'd be long gone.

"Now. They're waiting for us, I just wanted to take a minute before…" Her voice trailed off as she looked down.

"Okay." He kept his gaze controlled, focused on what could be the last sunrise he'd ever see.

They waited a few minutes before walking back to the camp in silence, their thoughts running wild with prayers and strategies.

The air within the camp had changed. There was a subdued silence as campers watched them embark. A part of him hoped the outcome was better than certain death, but common sense told him that these hopes were silly.

He walked into the chamber where the council members sat in silence. The 100's own version of a council; Raven, Finn and Octavia was among them and sombre expressions littered the room.

"Take a seat." Abigail instructed, motioning towards 2 empty chairs. She waited till they were seated before continuing. "As you know, we have been in talks with the Commander of the Grounder clan to avoid a war. One that will most likely annihilate our people." Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the faces of her council. "Our people are ill prepared. They are weak. They are in an unknown land with minimal resources and even less fighting experience."

She paused, giving them a moment to think on her words. Some nodded in agreement. Others sat with stoney expressions, fidgeting as they awaited their sentencing.

"When there is discord among the grounder clans, they prevent battle by creating vested interest in the opposing clan. They avoid battle by coming together. It is an archaic law but one that may provide us with the protection we need to make it through another day. It is a step towards the permanent safety and security of our people."

Abigail hesitated before continuing. The faces in front of her carried confusion and doubt, but also hope. She looked at Bellamy, a face she'd been avoiding through her speech. His expression was hard, but revealed nothing.

"They have selected one of their leaders to come to our camp and, in essence, marry one of ours."

Gasps erupted from the members, there was a sudden, urgent buzz of whispers among the members. Abigail stood tall, confident in her decision. She raised her voice and spoke over the side conversations, demanding attention.

"Putting one of their own within our camp will create that vested interest in our survival. They will not attack our camp and risk members of their clan being killed. It is the best option-"

"To let a snake into our camp? A Spy? An Assassin? Are you insane? They'll probably kill us all one by one as we sleep! They'll probably poison us!" Kane billowed over the buzz. Heads nodded in agreement with him, cries of "Insanity!" littered the room and he continued. "This is worse than certain death! This is uncertain death! We can't trust it. We can't. This can't happen."

"But it will. You aren't understanding the bigger picture here Kane, we will have one of theirs. We'll have leverage. We'll have protection. It's not up for discussion, the decision has been made. They'll deliver the girl this evening. What I need from all of you is to ensure her safety within this camp." Abigail's word was final. Eventually they'd see how she saved them, what an asset a grounder could be if used properly. The room was silent once more as the counsel processed the information they were given.

"Who is she?" Octavia spoke up. She'd interacted with the Grounders enough to identify a few of them.

"Angelina. The commander's sister. Someone they would never put at risk." Abigail answered, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"And who will she be marrying? Are we going to vote or put out a sign-up sheet? Maybe we should have a competition, winner gets a Grounder." This time Clarke's voice broke the silence. The sarcasm was evidence of her disapproval, but sarcastic seemed to be her default setting nowadays.

"No, there won't be a vote. The decision was made. Someone in a similar position of leadership within our camp, of a similar age." She kept her eyes down as she felt Clarke's bore into her,

"Well?" Clarke paused, long enough for her mother to raise her eyes, "Who are we robbing of the opportunity to live out their lives with someone of their choosing? Who are we honouring with the task of harbouring a Grounder? Who'll be the next victim of your social experimentation? WHO IS IT!" Clarke yelled. The idea that one of her own may be married to someone who wants them all obliterated shook her.

She watched in slow motion as Abigail's eyes shifted to her left, and though she knew who was seated beside her she had to turn her head to confirm it.

"Bellamy Blake."