Prologue

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Hi everyone. I'm back with a new The 100 story, and I've been working on this one for a while now, so I really really hope you'll favourite, follow, review, vote, kudos and comment.

It's inspired by the flashback parts of season 7 with Octavia, Hope and Diyoza, and I just wanted to experiment with Octavia being more of a sister figure than a mother, because with time dilation, Octavia could end up being younger than Hope but we'd never know.

I hope you enjoy this story.

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~~Seven years ago~~

"Mommy, did you hear that?"

Said woman froze in her tracks, pausing to see if she could hear what had caught her young daughter's attention.

And there it was. A baby's cry. It was shrill but at the same time hoarse, as if the baby had been crying for a while now.

She turned to the house they stood in front of. It was of course by no means rude to barge into someone else's home, especially when their baby was crying, but she couldn't help it. Her motherly instincts wouldn't let her ignore a crying child.

Picking up her toddler and nestling her in her arms, she approached the front door and knocked.

She knocked once. Twice. Three times. But there was still no answer.

It was at that point, she decided that manners be damned. There was a crying baby in there for goodness sakes, and by the sound of it, no one going to comfort it. She couldn't imagine how much the baby must be suffering at the negligence of it's parents.

She twisted the doorknob, which was surprisingly unlocked, and entered the house. Listening intently, she followed the crying to a small store room hidden beneath the staircase. It was barely big enough for her to enter.

She unlatched the lock, slowly opening the door, and the cries grew even louder. It was obvious the baby had been there for a while. The smell of a soiled diaper was potent, even to her desensitised nose, and the air was stale.

Carefully maneuvering in the small space, she finally found the light switch, flicking it on only to be face-to-face with another door, partially covered by a box.

She moved the box aside and yanked the door open, light flooding into the previously dark corner solely occupied by a baby.

Finding a stool in a corner, she quickly placed her daughter on it, hoping she would be quiet and patient even if just for a few moments.

Carefully, she scooped up the baby, being mindful of it's head. It was easy to deduce it as a newborn; it's skin still in red and pinkish hues from birth, the fragrant smell of a newborn strong when she held it close, and she can't help but wonder what overcame the household's occupants to leave such a precious defenseless thing locked up in the tiniest corner of the house.

The moment it felt that it was in someone's arms, it's crying ceased and the ache in her heart for the baby increased tenfold. Holding out a hand for her daughter to take, the duo walked out of the closet with the baby carefully in the mother's arms.

As they walked, she took in the sight of the house. It was decrepit and unkempt; papers were strewn everywhere, blood dotted the hardwood floors, and the paint was peeling off the walls at an alarming rate. There was the faintest scent of mildew lurking about in every corner and she just knew this place wasn't fit for a child, much less a newborn.

Placing the baby on the table, she took out a diaper from her diaper bag. It would be a little big on the newborn, but it would have to do for now. Anything would be better than the soiled diaper the baby was currently wearing.

As she changed it, she noticed it was actually a girl. A beautiful baby girl with small tufts of dark brown-almost black-hair already peaking out of her otherwise bald head. Her eyes were a newborn shade of blue, but part of her was telling her the baby's eyes would always stay this colour.

She cleaned the baby up and bundled everything else, only stopping short at a drawing lying on the floor.

It was a child's drawing, only slightly more than stick figures coloured in with minimal colour pencils. At the top of each person, was a name. "Mom" for a woman in the centre, "Me" for the boy who's hand she was holding, and "Octavia" for the baby by the mother's feet.

"Octavia." She cooed, and the baby smiled.

Her smile was infectious and even her young daughter smiled back. "Is swe ma sistew?"

The lady stopped, just realising she had yet to decide what to do with the baby. She knew she should probably hand her over to the authorities, help her find her family and everything, but the hope shining in her daughter's eyes made her stop for a second.

She knew her daughter's always wanted a little sister, but she wouldn't be able to give her one. Not only did she not have a partner, but her own daughter's birth had been filled with enough complications that having another child naturally would be almost impossible.

It was at that moment she made up her mind. Besides, if her family left her so easily, who's to say that they won't do it again.

The new family walked out the door, the little girl once again clutching tightly to her mother's arm as said mother cradled the baby close to her chest.

"Welcome to the family Octavia Diyoza."

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And this has been an AngelFanfics productions.

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