Scythe || Bellamy Blake

The Perfect Braid

Skye felt Bellamy's hand stroking her hair, trembling against her scalp.

His voice was hoarse when they finally pulled away and his warm hand placed itself softly on her shoulder, over the bulging fabric concealing her bandages, "How does it feel?"

She gave him a small, tired smile, "It's not so bad."

"Liar," he breathed.

Yeah. She was.

It gave her such selfish joy at the relief still evident in his tone- the fact that he still didn't trust the reality that confirmed she was alive.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the pole his hand was chained to for a moment. When he looked back up his face was devastated, "If you ever pull something like that again-"

He trailed off and his jaw clenched. She stayed silent.

When he finally grasped his words he breathed, "I have never felt so helpless. My mom died for something. She died so that my sister could live, but you? You would have been a casualty in a war started by children."

Skye was overrun by a wave of feelings. So many feelings crawling from her soul to her face that they canceled each other out and she was left with a mask of nothing.

"We are not children, Bellamy. And I would have died in a heartbeat for that makeshift camp that we built together," she started, looking directly into his eyes with the intensity that came from the same place as her cold fury

"That place meant everything to me," she thought she might burn Bellamy with the fire in her eyes and her heart, "But back there I wouldn't have died for the camp- I would have died for you."

Bellamy gripped her wrists, "Skye you need to promise me that you will never pull something like that again. I can't- you don't know what that was like for me," his brushed a lock of hair that had slipped from her braid behind her ear, whispering, "You pointed the knife at yourself."

His voice was so quiet, so filled with pain.

But he had to understand something:

"I would do it again."

"No!" He barked, eyes flashing, "We were supposed to lead our people together! That was the plan and you gave up on it!"

Skye cupped his face, onyx eyes blazing as she spoke with seriousness, "I made a choice, Bell. I chose to save our people, to save you. Too many choices have been taken away from me- you will not take this one if I need to make it again."

Tears splashed from his eyes and he pulled her to him again, kissing her with a fierceness that made her weak, "You will never need to."

Bellamy couldn't shield her from everything.

Skye started to cry, quiet little sobs that sent shooting pain through her shoulder, "I have chosen between lives too much, Bellamy."

He tucked her into his chest, "I know."

"No," she whispered.

His arm tensed around her and she buried her face into his shirt. She didn't explain further- she promised herself she would never open up, no matter how much she might want to.

She wiped her tears with the heel of her hand. Her voice was barely a whisper, "I value choices Bellamy. There have been too many choices that have nearly killed me, but when I make one, I stick with it," she lifted her chin, "You cannot take that away from me."

He didn't answer her and she guessed that that would be as close to acceptance as she would get.

Her shoulder drummed with pain and she slumped, feeling exhaustion weigh on her. Bellamy's strong arms supported her and examined her pained expression, eyes disapproving, "You should be resting."