Archive of Our Own ^beta

A cruel joke. A trick from the universe. Karma balancing itself after being so good to him for decades. Jake kept looking for an explanation as to why life had gotten so complicated overnight while he tried to ignore the elephant in the room. Or, more accurately, the young woman standing at attention behind Clarke in the dining room.

There hadn’t been enough time for the tailors to make her uniform. The suit she had borrowed from Clarke, too tight around the shoulders, made her look even more awkward than the situation called for. Unless he was projecting some of his feelings, too. The black eye and bruises covering her face had him flinch surreptitiously every time his eyes landed on them.

Jake was no stranger to tough decisions. As King, he had sent troops to war knowing some of those young men and women wouldn’t make it back alive. He had occasionally been forced to negotiate unsatisfactory deals with leaders he hated in the name of peace. Some of those decisions still haunted him at night, when sleep refused to come. He rarely faced people who had been hurt on his order, though. Prisoners tortured for information and—dared he be honest—vengeance. The glares Clarke kept throwing him didn’t help either, and by the time the main dish was served, he couldn’t wait for dinner to be over. He would have excused himself earlier if Abby’s hand hadn’t rested on his, offering her quiet support against their daughter’s anger.

“Can I get a Royal Guard, too?” Madi asked as they waited for the dessert, making Jake inhale the mouthful of wine he had sipped.

“Absolutely not,” he croaked through his coughs, grateful when Abby patted his back. “You do not need one. Besides, you are too young to make such a decision.”

Children, he thought to himself as he faced not one, but two pouting daughters throughout the charlotte aux fraises.

“I will retire for the night,” Clarke announced a few minutes later. She did look tired, but Jake suspected it was more for Lexa’s sake than her own. The young guard seemed about to drop despite her best efforts to remain still.

According to Dr. Jackson—after Jake insisted—her wounds would require weeks to fully heal. He swallowed around his guilt when she wobbled away behind Clarke and wondered how long it would take her mind to recover, too. 

“I will go, too. Good night,” Madi said, oblivious to how his gaze stuck to Lexa’s back for a second before finding her eyes.

“Good night, honey,” Jake replied with a soft smile she half returned, most of her frown gone at last. She had always moved on faster than Clarke.

“Are you all right?” Abby asked once they were alone. “You seem preoccupied.”

“I do not know if Clarke will forgive me. She looked so… disappointed when she found Lexa. I am disappointed in myself for going to such lengths.” The admission hurt, but there was something soothing about freeing oneself. Relief hit Jake at the lack of judgment on Abby’s face.

“I bit my tongue earlier not to threaten to have Lexa tied to our four best horses and quartered if she ever hurt Clarke again,” she confessed, making him chuckle despite himself. He knew how much she meant it. Abby was even more protective of their family than he was. A true Mama Bear under the layers of propriety and responsibilities.

How lucky he was, he reminded himself, to have found someone who loved him as much as she did. Who knew every secret, every dark corner of his mind, yet didn’t care. That was what he wished for his daughters—a partner. Someone who would support them when the crown’s weight bent their necks and the country’s relentless demands broke their backs.

“What a pair we make,” he mused. To his surprise, Abby was staring at the door, her brows furrowed more deeply than before. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Lexa is beautiful.” Of all the things he had expected her to say, that wasn’t one. His confusion had to be plain because, after a second, she clarified. “It is not so obvious at the moment with all the bruises, but she is beautiful. Strong and beautiful, which makes her very much Clarke’s type.”

Oh. “You do not think Clarke fell for her, do you?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly worried servants came in and overheard them. “She would not have made her a Royal Guard if she had. She knows they cannot be involved with anyone.”

Fondness aside, there was a tinge of disbelief in Abby’s gaze when she scoffed. “Albert the Tall was famous for having lovers,” she reminded him. “And if I recall, your Robert fathered two children, whom he acknowledged after retiring. The law is what it is, but even the Royal Guards are human.

“Leave it to me,” she added after noticing the grimace on his face. “If we confront her, we will, at best, put the thought in her head, and at worst, push her to do the exact opposite of what we want. I have an idea.”

Melancholia had Jake swallow thickly. During her teenage years, he had served as Clarke’s closest confidant, whereas she and Abby had struggled to communicate, both too headstrong to hear the other. But if they remained close, Clarke had since mended her relationship with her mother and preferred to discuss all things related to her love life with her.

“Very well, my love,” he said before covering a yawn behind his hand. He hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours per night since Clarke’s kidnapping, and exhaustion suddenly had his eyelids weigh heavier than lead.

Abby kissed his cheek and stood up, her hand finding his to help him up. “Come on, dear. Let’s go to bed. All this can wait until tomorrow.”

 

The following morning, Jake woke up more rested—if not less anxious—than the night before. Not wanting to have a repeat of the dinner’s awkwardness, he opted for a light breakfast in bed before sitting at his desk to read the news and his secretaries’ notes on current affairs. He was about halfway through a report on Azgeda’s separatists when a butler announced a secret agent at the door.

“Show him in,” Jake ordered, barely disguising his trepidation.

Nathan Miller entered seconds later, but all Jake saw was the yellow folder in his left hand.

“Your Majesty,” the young secret agent greeted as he bowed slightly.

“Did you find anything?”

“I did. My apologies for the delay. Finding a source without alerting anyone took longer than anticipated.”

Jake acknowledged his apology with a wave of the hand, too distracted by the folder and its potential consequences to mind. Despite his impatience, he would gladly have waited for another day rather than risk an error.

He opened it with trembling hands and perused the files inside, trying his best to contain his anger as the pieces clicked in his mind.

 

Jake was finishing installing his favorite chess set, a gift from Abby for his forty-sixth birthday, when General Kane entered for their daily 10:30 a.m. meeting.

Their relationship hadn’t always been free from tensions, both having strong convictions that occasionally clashed. Kane never hid his admiration—and possibly deeper feelings—for Abby, which didn’t help either. But, over time, Jake had learned to rely on him. He would call him a friend, or as close as they could be considering their respective status.

“General, come in,” he said. “You are right on time.”

“Your Majesty.” Kane tilted his head forward in respect before frowning when Jake invited him to sit across from him. “Do you plan to humiliate me again?”

“Only if you let me. I know you have been practicing.”

Kane chuckled and sat down in front of the black pieces, waiting for Jake to start the game.

“How is the situation with Trikru?” Jake asked as he moved his first pawn to e4.

Kane didn’t hesitate to transfer his to e5 to block the white’s path. “Tense still. One could have hoped the Princess’s declaration last night put an end to the whole affair, but I received reports of unrest in Trikru. They’re still angry about the kidnapping accusations.”

“I see.” Jake clenched his jaw before moving his right knight to f3. “And General Porter?”

“Quiet so far. She issued a statement saying she was glad Her Royal Highness returned to the palace safely, but she hasn’t commented on the violent declarations some of her people made online,” Kane replied. He hesitantly placed his own knight on c6.

Jake barely waited for him to let go of the piece before he moved his bishop to c4. After years of peace, the news was a blow. He had hoped to mitigate the traitor’s efforts to reignite the conflict between Arkadia and Trikru, but apparently, there was still work to do. He would have to visit Trikru as soon as possible to appear by General Porter’s side and reiterate their mutual desire for peace in front of cameras. Once he had dealt with the snake in his ranks.

While Jake pondered how to stop the situation from taking a turn for the worse, Kane moved his pawn to d6 to cover the previous one.

“What is your take on all this?” Jake asked as he moved his knight to c3.

“General Porter will do what suits her best. She doesn’t want war to resume any more than we do, yet I fear our alliance is mostly one of circumstances. If it comes down to choosing between supporting us and keeping her position, she won’t hesitate to abandon us.” Kane slid his bishop to g4, threatening the white knight. “We shouldn’t forget our violent shared past or trust them blindly.”

Jake let out a noncommittal sound at the advice. Kane was hardly the first general—or adviser—to warn him against Trikru. Rancor and mistrust ran deep between the two nations, making him wonder sometimes if war wasn’t easier than peace. “You think I trust Trikru blindly?” he asked before pushing his pawn to h3 to attack the black bishop.

“Of course not,” Kane replied immediately as he retreated his bishop to h5. “I merely meant that, like all good, honorable men, you look for those qualities in others and trust their intentions. Perhaps too easily.”

Jake didn’t reply. He moved his knight to e5, capturing the pawn there with a huff.

Kane couldn’t hide his smirk when he noticed the opening in his king’s defense, a rare oversight for such an accomplished player. “I trust your judgment, Your Highness. Alas,” he warned, “even the greatest man can occasionally make a mistake.” He mercilessly skated his bishop over the board until it reached the exposed white queen and toppled the piece out of the board.

“Hmm, so it seems,” Jake conceded. “I cannot say I have been at my best since the kidnapping. The overwhelming and constant worry, the lack of sleep… The people responsible knew what they did when they targeted my family.

“If I hadn’t been so preoccupied,” he continued with more assurance, “I would have noticed some details sooner. Such as how only someone in a prominent position at the Palace would have known Clarke’s itinerary. Or how ‘lucky’ we were to find Lexa’s print even though the security cameras show her entire team wearing gloves.”

“Do you have a suspect?” Kane asked, the game all but forgotten.

“Naturally, Charles Pike was my first thought. His disdain for Trikru is no secret, and he has the necessary connections and means for such an operation. That is why I had a secret agent look into him for the past few days.

“But then again,” Jake said as he grabbed his bishop, “his disdain is well known, making him the perfect scapegoat. A crude trap, but good enough for an exhausted father looking for someone to blame.” He delicately removed the black pawn at f7 and placed his bishop on the pale square. “Check.”

Kane swallowed thickly and moved his king to e7, his only option. “I see. But who else would have a motive?”

“That was something that had me stumped for some time,” Jake admitted. “Who else would have enough reason to dislike Trikru that they would threaten Clarke’s life? Until I received this earlier today.” He pulled the yellow folder out of the desk’s drawer and placed it next to the board. “A report on Peter Cartwig, a young lieutenant killed in action during a joint operation with Trikru on Sangeda land three months ago. No one had made the connection until now, because he chose to go by his mother’s name, surely to escape the weight his father’s carries in the army.”

Kane didn’t react at the name, nor did he when Jake moved his other knight to d5 and announced, “Checkmate.” He stayed immobile and, if Jake hadn’t been so close, he would have missed the tension in his jaw and the tears pooling in his eyes.

“How could you?” Jake asked. “You have known Clarke since she was a child. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I love the Princess. But I loved my boy more.”

An infinite sadness colored Kane’s voice. A pain so audible that, despite his anger, Jake couldn’t help but pity him. He had been so close to losing Clarke, and those few days without her had been the worst of his life. He couldn’t fathom how he and his family would have survived if she had died.

“So you tried to sabotage our relationship with Trikru to avenge him? I do not understand. More young people will die needlessly if the war between our nations resumes. You are a general; you of all people know that.”

Kane shook his head slowly, his chin down to avoid looking at his king. “I don’t want war, only to show we can’t trust Trikru. Peter died because the intel they gave us was wrong. They didn’t bother double-checking because it wasn’t their soldiers who went, it was ours.

“My son died because of them,” Kane cried. “He died, and nothing changed. But everybody adores the Princess. Her death would have created a rift between us and Trikru, and freed us from their influence.”

“Except your dicey plan had the opposite effect of what you were trying to achieve. We will smoothen things with Trikru; I already spoke to General Porter earlier. And now, for the first time in our history, we have a Trikru-born Royal Guard.”

Jake sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He could have had Kane whisked away to a secret prison until death for that last fact alone, but it would raise too many questions. Kane was a well-known and admired general. A trial—even a military one—was inevitable and would draw attention, as embarrassing for Arkadia as it would be.

Jake had barely released the secret button under his desk when secret agents entered, Nathan Miller among them. Kane turned his head when he heard the sound of the door, but he didn’t seem surprised or tried to resist. He stood up slowly and waited for them to handcuff him behind his back.

“Take him to the dungeon,” Jake ordered, wondering if Kane would appreciate the irony. He didn’t. “He is to remain there, under your watch and without outside contact, until his trial begins.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the agents replied as one before pulling a silent Kane away.

Jake watched them from behind his desk, reflexively caressing the chess pieces with the tip of his fingers and wondering how so much pain could have been avoided.

 

A king’s obligations never stopped, regardless of the circumstances. If he had managed to postpone a few meetings while Clarke was gone, Jake had to work overtime to make up for it now that she was back. After a boring lunch with the Yujleda and Boudalan ambassadors—both polite but too ambitious for his taste—and a call with the Ingranrona leader who shared his relief following Clarke’s safe return, he finally caught a break.

Before someone else could rope him into a meeting or ask a question that couldn’t wait, he hurried to the first floor of the right wing. Clarke wasn’t in her room, and he only hesitated briefly before knocking on the following door down the hallway.

“Come in,” came out muffled through the wood, and he took a deep breath before pressing on the doorknob.

It had been a while since he had entered Clarke’s studio. His eyes roamed around the large, well-lit room, taking in the new pieces on display. Forests, Ark, other towns… Clarke had a thing for landscapes, yet it was her portraits that never failed to make his breath catch.

On the left, a painting of Madi, a year or two younger, hung on the wall next to a portrait of their family. On the opposite wall, another one of him and Abby had his eyes mist over. It wasn’t like their official portraits, solemn despite their discreet smiles. Clarke had represented them like only she and Madi got to see them—laughing and lovingly staring at each other.

It was a shame that only the people in the palace could appreciate her rare talent. He and Abby had tried to convince her to join exhibits, yet Clarke preferred to keep her passion a secret, knowing how her status would inevitably influence the critics.

Lexa stood in the middle of the room, commanding in her brand-new uniform. Light makeup hid some of the wounds on her face, but it couldn’t mask the worry in her eyes as he approached. Not that he blamed her for it. In her shoes, he wouldn’t have taken too kindly to his presence either.

Clarke added a few strokes of paint to the waterfall centering her current piece—one near Ark, where they had gone swimming several times as a family—before turning around.

Surprised stole on her face before she schooled her features into a neutral expression. “Father. What can I do for you?”

Jake hated the reserve in her voice. The blank look she forced herself to maintain. They hadn’t been this at odds since she was seventeen and he forbade her from seeing her friend John Murphy after he was arrested carrying enough drugs to supply a small party. She had stayed in touch with Murphy regardless and, once his house arrest was over, resumed her friendship with him as if nothing had happened. When Clarke cared for someone, she was loyal to a fault, he reminded himself. And since she seemed to care for Lexa already, he would have to tread carefully.

“I wanted to let you know that the person who ordered your kidnapping has been arrested,” he said. There was no way to sugarcoat the news and, as he had hoped, Clarke let out a deep sigh of relief.

“That is… That is wonderful news. Are you certain you have the right person?”

“Yes. He confessed to me and has been taken into custody. You have nothing more to fear, honey.”

The pet name broke some of Clarke’s coolness, and she gave him a hesitant smile before asking, “Who was it?”

“General Kane.”

The flash of surprise on Lexa’s face told Jake she knew him, or at least knew of him, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. Clarke, on the other hand, looked as if she had been slapped.

“Kane? But… Why? What did I ever do to him?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said as he kneeled before her and took her hand to comfort her. “He wanted to separate us from Trikru after losing his son in a military operation they led. He knew your death would cause an outrage, that was why he chose you.

“I am so sorry, Clarke.” His voice broke on her name. “I should have protected you better. He should never have been able to put you in danger like that.”

Clarke swallowed visibly and squeezed his fingers to get his attention back. “You cannot keep me locked in this palace forever. Thanks to Lexa, he failed. That is all that matters.”

Jake wasn’t ready to forgive. Not yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would fully be able to. But he found Lexa’s eyes, so much softer as she watched them than they had been on the picture in her military file, and admitted, “I am glad Kane was wrong about you.”