1 + 2 | EMBERS TO FIRESTORM | THE 100 | JOHN MURPHY

TWENTY TWO

T W E N T Y T W O

Sat with the covers pulled around her shoulders, Althea was silent. Although her lips did not move, her mind still cawed at her as if it would never cease, not in a thousand years.

She did not sleep. Instead, she sat and braided her hair like her mother used to do for her.

-

"Mummy, will you braid my hair for me?" She would ask, her eyes glistening with huge respect and admiration for her mother.

Her mother, with a smile and soul of an angel, was more than happy to braid her daughter's hair. "Sit down, I'll do it now," She replied, her beaming smile gazing down upon Althea.

Almost squealing with excitement, Althea ran across the room. Jumping down to sit before her mother, back pressed against her mother's legs firmly and yet comfortingly. The warmth soaked through.

As her fingers wound through Althea's hair with elegance, Althea couldn't help but feel content. She must have been eight years old at this moment of pure joy. Living a simple life with nothing to worry about but having the best braids in her class. If only she had known the life she were to lead.

Her mother had known, or she'd had a feeling, of what Althea was to endure in her existence if something were to become of her. And of that she was certain for she had seen it. She had seen herself being ripped into space, floated.

Now, everyday she gazed upon her beautiful child she could only imagine the pain and fear her innocent soul would drown within.

Once the braids were done, completed neatly and swiftly, Althea whips around to her mother. With a beaming, toothy smile she wraps her tiny arms around her mother and falls into her lap. "Thank you, mummy," She said joyfully, her cheek pressing against her mother's. "Will you braid my hair again tomorrow? Clarke said she was going to braid hers tomorrow too!"

"Of course I will, sweetheart. I promise I will; you know I always keep my promises," She told her darling daughter and pressed her lips against her cheek.

"Yes!" Althea exclaims, excitement bubbling over as she recalled what her mother had taught her. "You told me to never make a promise if I can't keep it. That way I'll never break one. I remember, I remember!"

"Good, now hurry along. You don't want to leave all the other girls waiting. I'm sure they're dying to see your gorgeous hair braids today and listen to more of your stories," She said and kissed her cheek once more. Just relishing in the pureness of her daughter's youth. Eight years old, growing fast.

"I love you to the ground and back, mummy," Althea responded before she pushed herself off her mother on the sofa and was out the door before she could reply. The sound of pattering feet moving away from her, growing more and more distant was far from music to her ears.

If she could hold her dear, sweet daughter for the rest of her life she would. Holding her in her arms, protecting her from the burdens of life.

But that was selfish, she knew that. So she let her go. Forging her own path through life and hoping and praying that they were the right ones.

-

"Althea?" A voice calls from the entrance of the tent. Snapping out of her trance like state of remembrance, Althea looks up and lets the braid fall from her fingers, unravelling as it falls to her shoulder.

Awkwardly at the door, Bellamy Blake stands. He no longer looks proud, nor does he look like he's parading himself as ruler.

"Hi," Althea responds and pulls the covers tighter around herself. "Did you need something?" Her voice was more hostile than she wanted it to be.

"I just came to check if you were okay," He peruses. Having spent a little time alone after the entire happening, Althea had somewhat recollected herself. Although, not completely, it was enough for her to meet his eyes and dare to ask him the same question.

"Are you okay, Bellamy Blake?" She asks, her eyes boring into his. Not uncomfortable under her gaze, Bellamy steps forward into the tent and closes the opening behind him.

"What happened tonight-" He begins, but he is cut off by Althea's snapping tongue.

"There is no excuse for what happened tonight, and I advise you to make every effort to make sure it never happens again." Visibly, he sees her jaw tighten and her fingers curl tighter around her covers. "Take a seat if you intend to tell me otherwise."

"I tried to tell Clarke, but that's not what I came to debate with you," He steps further into the tent, despite her anger and takes a seat on the small crate not far from her. "I came to ask you if you were okay after what happened to Charlotte. I know you cared about her a lot."

Her anger dissipates as quickly as it boiled up. Removing her eyes from him, she looks to the flickering light of the lantern. "She was just a kid, he knew that but it changed nothing. So, to answer your question with the obvious answer, no. No I am not okay."

"You loved him?" Bellamy asks without thinking.

Althea smiles sadly, looking to him with eyes that withheld immense amounts of torture that even he could see. "No, but I could have," She replies. Allowing herself to look at Bellamy more closely, she laughs in remembrance. "You know, I used to think I loved you back on the Ark when I was younger."

"You did?" He almost laughs too. Upon hearing her laugh, his heart is warmed and his smile emerges. Never having heard her laugh, this was a treat. It was a sweet laugh, a pure laugh. It did not behold her agony, it was more like her escape from it all. Whether or not she was truly happy, he did not know, but relishing in the moment was worth it.

"I did," She admits, her cheeks slightly heating from her spontaneous claim. "But then I got locked up and truth be told you were the last thing on my mind." Seeing her smile fade, he doubts it was even real.

"What got you locked up?"

"Assisting attempted murder." Sinking into the covers, she feels her face turn back into stone. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I should hate you, but I don't hate you as much as I should."

There was few things Bellamy was sure of when it came to her, but there was one thing he was definite on: Althea Barnes was like a maze. To get to its centre, there were many paths but equally there was dead ends. Persistence was the key to the centre.

Althea could see his mind working, trying to figure her out. Many people had tried, many people had failed. No one had succeeded. Althea knew how to guard her cards, but she also knew how to detect the cards of others. Perhaps her burden aided her in that purpose, for she knew of Bellamy's crime.

She knew how he had held the gun within his hands and pulled the trigger at the man who imprisoned his sister for the crime of being born. All for her, he did it all for Octavia. Perhaps that's why she didn't hate him as much as she wanted to.

Above all, he valued family and Althea admired that, wished she had been like him when her mother and father still breathed.

But now it was all to late to make amends, the past set in stone. That was one of the many things that ripped Althea apart.

-

1297 words

althea's mother was such a ray of sunshine oh my
this chapter hurt me to write because there's too many emotions.