Bellamy Blake | Imagines & Preferences

Rewrite The Stars.

Who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny?
From the young age of ten, you were taught how to cook, clean, and sew for the nobles. You were sold into a life of slavery for those who lived luxuriously. You had no family, little education, and certainly no worldly possessions. You were raised to be a servant and not much more.

From the young age of ten, Bellamy was taught the rules and responsibilities of a prince. He watched you grow up from the padded seat of his throne. Bellamy cursed himself every moment he saw your little body, arms filled to the brim with bedsheets or laundry, scurrying after a much older maid. His mother forbade him from socializing with you, she wouldn't allow it. Bellamy became more and more disappointed of himself everytime he didn't go behind his mother's back to get a single word with you.

It wasn't until the birth of Octavia that Bellamy finally had the opportunity to talk to you.

"Is my mother.. Doing okay?" Bellamy suddenly initiated a conversation with you, his high voice tinged with worry. You perked up at the sound of his voice and immediately curtsied in the presence of the prince. His formal black jacket tailored to absolute perfection stood out amongst the white marble and the rest of the interior design of the grand room. His slicked back hair, an obviously haircut not suit for him, somewhat shone against the blue light that flooded in thought the skylight.

"She's fine, your highness. Just under a lot of pressure." You answered politely yet tiredly, glancing to the ornate, white door with a small smile on your face. Muffled yells and groans of pain enmenated from behind the door, at least you thought the queen was doing okay? You weren't sure on how the miracle of life worked just yet.

"I'm Bellamy. What's your name?" He questioned curiously, looking to generate some small talk while his mother was forcing new life into the world. Bellamy had finally gotten his chance to meet you after two agonizingly long years. You glanced to Bellamy with beautiful, doe eyes, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. Hasn't anyone told him that he wasn't allowed to be seen with people like you?

"My name is Y/N, your highness." You replied quietly, afraid that your headmaid would hear you outside the door. Bellamy's childish grin grew wider, what a nice name he thought. He observed your soft features closely, thoughts wandering as to why you're being forced to serve the Blake family. You were only twelve, you deserved much better than this.

"Let's be friends. I promise I won't get you in trouble." Bellamy blurted out rapidly, lifting his pinky out in front of you. You shifted your gaze from Bellamy's face to his pinky then back to his face. The unease ate away at your chest cavity, taking big gulps before eventually consuming you in cowardice. "Please?"

"Ah, I couldn't, your highness. I'm just a simple maid." You humbly refused, slightly shaking your head. In result, Bellamy pouted childishly and jutted out his pinky further in front of you. His cute pout made you grow nervous, what were you getting yourself into? You could be exiled or even beheaded for this!