GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

049 ━━ one more problem

bro i wanna write another draco fic so badly but 1) im scared it'll flop and 2) im scared i wont write it correctly- i hate him but i love him too its not fair

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IONA HAD no words left to say as the buggy came to a stop.

She was so far gone, so entranced by her own thoughts, that she had trapped herself within that mental prison of hers she knew so well. The bars remained unmoving, unbreakable, and kept her trapped within the confinements.

She didn't fight it.

Instead, she stared blankly ahead, walking down the tunnel that led into Trikru land- land she knew so well, yet felt so foreign- with a far away look on her face.

Bellamy walked beside her, a small distance from Monty, and stood close enough to feel her arm brush up against him with every step. She didn't seem to notice, though if she had, he doubted she cared.

It was clear something was tormenting Iona.

To Bellamy, he assumed it was Wanheda, a force she was afraid of. Or, in his perspective, appeared to be afraid of.

In truth, she had been turned to stone, staring right into the snake-like eyes of her own past. Not only her past, but now, her future. Everything seemed to be falling like dominos, a butterfly effect she couldn't quite fathom.

She murdered people, she stole lives, she got away with the crime risk free (albeit suffering intense mental trauma that later became the reason she killed), and now must face the consequences of her actions in the form of her relationship with Bellamy.

It was a mouthful, but Iona understood it as if it was as clear as glass.

Something was bound to go wrong on this sunshine and rainbows trip they called a friendship, and she's definitely found the flaw in their design.

In her design.

"Focus," Bellamy finally said. Iona felt a hand wrap around her wrist, and she turned, halting to stare up at him. She had a confused look on her face; frown set deep within her features, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes sad. "Need you right now."

Iona looked away, lashes fluttering with her blink, and nothing appeared to change about her stature as she continued onward.

Bellamy stood there, watching her walk, and puffed out his cheeks in annoyance, before releasing the air in a heavy sigh, following suit.

The tunnel was dark, but as they neared the end, light came forth from beyond the tunnel. The trees, filtered it, making it appear foggy and dark, but the sun still shone high. From between two of the trees came Kane, someone following behind.

"Who's he with?" Monty questioned.

Iona sighed as the figure came closer, and they appeared to do the same once their eyes found the ex-Trikru woman.

"Indra."

"That's Indra?"

Bellamy suddenly walked forward, hurrying his pace, although his voice was quiet and hushed, "He must've told her we broke the truce."

"Sir, before you say anything, there was a good reason-" Bellamy said loudly, only to be cut off by Kane raising his hand in dismissal.

Kane shook his head. He glanced between the three, his gaze lingering on Iona who was staring at Indra, eyes narrowed in subtle, well hid fury, "We'll deal with that later. This is about Clarke. She's being hunted."

Iona's expression fell, her normal one replacing it, as realization struck her.

"Clarke is Wanheda?"

Indra shared a look with Iona- one that told the tales of her past- before hesitantly nodding.

A feeling of relief washed through Iona. It was odd to feel such a way considering someone she considered somewhat a friend was being hunted, which she had mixed feelings about; her happiness mainly came from the title.

Clarke was most certainly not Wanheda.

She was afraid to kill, to bleed, and would not sacrifice the lives of the few for the lives of the many. The only time she had done that was in Mt. Weather, and that was mostly because of the torturous ways they'd developed.

Iona didn't view Clarke as weak, but she definitely didn't view her as strong. Clarke was settled right in between; the awkward space that often results in rash, hurried, and regretful decisions.

That was where Clarke fit, and that was where she belonged.

Previously, Iona had believed Wanheda to be an Azgedan force unrivaled in battle. Azgedans were taught to kill and to feel nothing when they watch blood spill.

That version of Wanheda was intimidating. That version of Wanheda was what scared Iona.

But now that she knows Clarke is Wanheda, it relieves one problem, but brings forth a new one entirely: where is Clarke?

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