GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

066 ━━ seeking revenge

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IONA EXPECTED to get prison time for what she had done. Typically, the delegate would be arrested and that would be it. He would be banned from ever being near the summit again and would be removed from a clan permanently.

Instead, he was murdered.

Iona didn't regret it.

In fact, she'd do it over and over again if given the chance, putting the scene on repeat in her mind. His head, swiftly disconnecting from his body, as blood splattered her dress, her chest, and her face; his body falling lifelessly to the ground.

What Iona didn't expect was to be released without punishment. Lexa gave her a hug, cleaned off her face, and sent her a comforting smile; then, she was allowed to return home.

Clarke stayed behind whilst the rest of the group left towards Arkadia, escorted by Indra.

Iona instantly tucked herself into Bellamy's side, the pair wordlessly embracing as they walked. Kane and Abby were stuck in silence, too, still reeling from the events at the summit. Pike trailed behind them, staring at the ground sadly.

They'd have a proper reunion later, once they got back home, but for now, all the group needed was the comforting feeling of silence.

Bellamy's hand rested on Iona's hip, his grip weak. He tried to be strong for her right there, but he couldn't stop feeling guilty. If he hadn't left, would there have been survivors? If he hadn't blindly trusted Echo, would he have realized the scheme within the mountain?

"It's not your fault," Iona whispered, halting her steps. He stopped alongside her, turning in their sideways embrace so he was now facing her, a hand on either hip. "You did what you thought was right, Bells. You tried to protect people."

Bellamy shook his head, his voice cracking, "I only got people killed."

It was odd to see Iona frown so sadly. She rarely showed emotion, though her habits had gotten much better since she started spending time with him, and now, here she was, breaking for him.

She raised a hand to his bicep, squeezing softly. Then, she leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso. Instinctively, he pulled her into him, rubbing his head against hers with a heavy sigh.

"Please," Iona murmured into his ear, and hearing her beg was such a foreign sound it almost struck him silly, "don't blame yourself. Blame Ice Nation. They did this, not you."

As soon as she said those words, anger boiled up under her skin.

Ice Nation did this.

Her old home did this.

Her past clan harmed the man she loves.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself back from him. She maintained a steady, firm eye contact with him, and suddenly, it was as if those previous emotions had disappeared within seconds, "I will make them pay for this, Bellamy."

Huffing to herself, she balled her hands into fists and broke out of his hold, marching towards the front of the group.

Now, all that was in her sights was revenge.

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Iona was blindsided by anger.

It wasn't unusual. In fact, she was used to the feeling. The sensation of your blood boiling, of your cheeks heating up, of your mind going fuzzy, your vision spotting, and your hands growing numb as you clenched them together so furiously.

She knew the feeling all too well, and she was smart enough to know that only bad things happened when she allowed herself to be controlled by such a feeling.

But she couldn't help herself.

She sat on her bed, katana across her bed as she sharpened it dangerously. The blade was shining, a fresh tally mark engraved on the steel, as she wore off the pieces she deemed too dull to use.

Even though those parts were still deadly enough to behead a man.

Her dress had long since been thrown to the floor; Iona now donned her commander's attire. She almost missed the free and flowing feeling the red dress brought with it, but that much didn't matter now.

The time for her to be a pretty, feminine, and elegant woman was over. Now, it was time to become reckless, enraged, and homicidal. It was time for her to become the Wanheda she always believed herself to be.

What was her plan? She didn't know.

Maybe she should've put far more thought into that, but she didn't. She couldn't think straight. All she needed to do was kill Queen Nia for what she had done- for what she had ordered.

For what she did to Bellamy.

Planning to slip out in the middle of the night, she grabbed her weapons, double checking that she had everything ready, before heading towards her bedroom door.

How was she supposed to assassinate one of the most well-guarded women in the world? Scratching her head, she aimlessly walked, trying to piece together the small details she needed in order for her mission to be successful.

Iona peeked her head around the corner of the Arkadia bar, making sure the coast was clear- that no one would see her leave the gate- before she felt a hand grab her arm.

Iona was tugged into the alley behind the bar, a gruff voice speaking out, "What are you doing?"

Bellamy.

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