Brave Princess - A Bellarke Story

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Bellamy:

I've only seen Clarke like this once before. But that was when she was trying to fix her leg. She had felt alone. I hope she knows by now that she isn't. I want to move--to go stand by her. But I feel like I would be interrupting. They are like siblings. They should be alone for this. She's stroking Asher's hair, and telling him that he just need to keep breathing. There's a certain desperation in her eyes. The way she looks at his wound, trying to discern the fatality of it.

But I know better. And because I know Clarke, I know that she realizes it too. I swallow, hard. I want to tell her there's hope. I want to help her. But her independence is almost indestructible, and my feet are planted to the ground.

My eyes flicker to Asher's premature face. Clarke's right. He doesn't deserve this. He's too young to die. Asher was too young in the first place, when they arrested him. But he was still deemed unimportant. Did they think of him as just a prisoner number? Prisoner 241. I heard him tell Clarke his number a few days ago. He was shaking when he spoke.

But Clarke had smiled, and put her arm around his shoulder, holding him close. "I was prisoner 319," she had said. And he had looked up at her with hope. I knew then, that he was content, for the first time on earth. That's who Clarke is. She is hope.

I watch them closely. Asher's face is drawn tightly with pain, and he is crying silently. He squeezes her hand and the tears run freely. I don't have to look at Clarke to know that she is crying. She must be so shaken to know that she can't save him.

"Just keep breathing," she says gently, but her voice is shaky. She is afraid. She can't help him, but more than anything she wants to.

She runs her fingers through his hair, and looks intently at his face. My heart aches for them. Breathe, Asher. Just stay with us. Clarke needs you. But he doesn't move. He doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe. And I know he's gone.

Clarke's heart wrenching sob echoes off the ship's walls before I hear it myself. She's calling for him, desperately.

"Ash," she whispers, and her hands drop to her sides. Her shoulders shake.

But she bursts into action. She's trying to save him. Anyone in grief would. But her grief is fresh. That's the worst of it. She says his name, over and over again as she pushes hard on his chest.

"Come on, Ash!" Clarke is desperate. "Come on!"

She pinches his nose and blows air into his lungs before pressing on his chest again. I suddenly find myself able to move. I walk over to her quietly. I don't want to do this. I don't want to take her away from him like this.

She repeats the CPR over and over again.

"Clarke," I say quietly. I am surprised I've found my voice, in the midst of it all. Clarke's pain is evident, and it hurts me to see her like this.

But she doesn't hear me. "Come on, Ash! Please!"

For a second I think he's moved. But then I realize that it's Clarke who has. She's leaning over the table, sobbing. Her hands clench the edge of the table and her knuckles turn white.

I swallow. "Clarke."

She slowly turns to Ash again. "I'm sorry," she says between sobs.

And she cries once more. As I near Clarke, I can hear footsteps as they disappear in the distance. Octavia must have left.

Slowly, I put my hands on her shoulders. I spin her around and pull her into my chest. The simple motion makes her shake. I know the feeling. It's the feeling you get when you realize how much someone cares. I get it when I'm around Clarke. I felt it when she told me who I was. People feel it the most when they are in pain. When someone comforts you, you always cry more. And you wonder--how could they care for you? I know that is what Clarke is thinking.

She holds tightly into my shirt. I can feel her heartbeat because of the small amount of space between us. It's beating fast, as one would expect. Clarke's feeling everything right now--shock, grief, guilt. And its killing her.

"Shh," I say, holding her head to my chest. "I'm here. It's okay."

But I know it isn't. This isn't the Clarke I know. The Clarke I know is strong, no matter what. She pulls through pain. If anything, it makes her stronger. I wish I could just take her pain away. Her tears soak through my shirt, and onto my chest. But somehow, in some twisted way, I feel almost closer to her. I can feel her pain. I remember our promise from a few days ago. I'm with you. But it isn't enough to think it. I have to let her know that.

And so, as her sobs gradually grow quieter, I lead her away from the table. "Look at me, princess," I tell her.

She draws in a shaky breath and slowly brings her eyes up to meet mine. My heart aches for her. Clarke's eyes are red, and her cheeks are painted with tear tracks. But she is beautiful, because she is mine. My princess.

"I'm with you," I tell her, "remember?"

Her voice is shaky and tired, but it's a start. "Yeah."

"Good," I say.

I kiss her forehead and pull her close to me once more. But as I do, I see the body of Asher on the table in front of me. His hand has fallen off of the table. My eyes widen in sadness and realization. He had reached out to Clarke. He knew Clarke needed him. He had tried to stay, for her. She gave him hope, and he had tried to give it to her in return. Hope.

That's what he wanted Clarke to have. That's what I want Clarke to have. And I know, it this moment, in this pain, I will do anything it takes to give Clarke what she needs.

Anything.

AN: Hello! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I am trying to improve my writing, and I hope I am accomplishing that. Thank you for everyone who voted for this story recently!

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