I really hope you guys don't completely hate me after that last chapter because I promise it will get better! Bear with me and everyone will get their happy ending! :)

Chapter 18

The next few days went by in a fog of grief for Clarke. She refused to eat, and sleep was impossible. She simply sat on the floor in her room, dressed in one of Bellamy's sweatshirts, her face buried in the material of the t-shirt he'd been wearing only two days ago.

She felt terrible about not being there for Octavia, but she was lost in her own sorrow. Miller sat with her at night, and Wick was there during the day. Lincoln stayed with O, and somehow the world kept turning.

The day of the funeral dawned bright and sunny. Clarke sat at his graveside, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking since she'd found him in that alley.

She sat beside Octavia, her sobs barely registering. The girl held her limp hand, but no warmth seeped into her fingers. He'd taken the warmth with him and now there was only cold.

The coffin was lowered into the ground, and Clarke felt as though she was suffocating. After everything was over, she walked on unsteady legs to his truck. She looked up to find Finn standing at the edge of the crowd, a leering smile on his face.

She didn't know she was moving until Miller grabbed her. She struggled against his hold, her eyes burning with hatred and rage.

"Let. Me. Go."

"No, Clarke, he wouldn't want this", Miller said.

"He's not here", Clarke said, her voice ragged and torn.

"I know, but you can't do this, not here", Miller said, tilting his head toward where Octavia stood in Lincoln's arms.

Clarke felt white-hot rage course through her body, her fingers curling into fists- her nails biting into the tender flesh of her palms. That's when she realized that with anger she felt something.

Gone was the nothingness, in rage there was warmth. She nodded her head, raising her chin a notch and marching to the truck. Finn Collins didn't know that he'd opened Pandora's box, and Clarke Griffin's only hope was long gone.

She got into the truck, his scent enveloping her like a warm blanket. She drove home, locking herself in her room. She stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring Octavia's pleas that she eat something.

That night, staring up at her ceiling, Clarke Griffin knew exactly what she would do. Sleep never came, but her mind was still filled with images of him.

The next morning, Octavia watched as Clarke immerged from her room. She was dressed in dark wash jeans, one of his t-shirts, and his leather jacket. The boots on her feet echoed on the hardwood floor as she made her way into the kitchen.

Octavia stared at her, terrified. Her brother's death seemed to have changed her friend. She could see the dark circles under the blonde's eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks.

She watched as Clarke grabbed a bottle of water and an apple. She had to do something, stop her friend's spiral.

"Clarke, if you need someone to talk to I'm here", Octavia said placing her hand on Clarke's forearm.

"Thanks, O", Clarke said, her voice hollow and wooden.

She turned to go, nearly making it out the door before Lincoln stopped her.

"She's hurting too, Clarke. You know Bellamy…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence", Clarke ground out, her face inches from Lincoln's. "Don't you dare tell me what he would have wanted!"

"Clarke…", Lincoln said grabbing her arm.

"Let go, Lincoln", she said, her voice deadly quiet.

"No."

He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't to be lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling with blood pouring from his nose. She'd moved before he could stop her, grabbing his wrist and pulling his face into the doorjamb.

Octavia rushed over, kneeling beside him with tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Please don't be angry with her. He was all she had, and in a way I think she loved him more than I ever could. I've never seen her this way, and it scares me. We just have to be here for her, and hope that she doesn't lose herself in this", she whispered.

Lincoln nodded, getting slowly to his feet and staring at the open door. He would be willing to bet that a lot of people would underestimate Clarke Griffin, but that was something he didn't intend to do again.

Clarke drove to the shop, Bellamy's switchblade in her pocket. She didn't know why she'd grabbed it. All she could think of was that she'd never seen him leave for work without it.

She parked the truck outside of the Silver Fox, making her way into the dim interior. The men stared at her, their curious gazes following her as she made her way to where Miller was working on a dark green SUV.

"Miller", she said, "I have an announcement to make. Get everyone's attention."

Miller stared at her for a moment, and then he saw the steel in her blue eyes. Whatever the Princess was about to say, but he had a feeling they would all comply. He gathered all of the men, listening to their quiet murmurs as Clarke stood before them.

"We recently lost someone dear to us", Clarke said, pausing as the men before her agreed, "He was taken from us by a coward, and I will see that the coward pays. However, I need your help. We'll keep his legacy alive, and avenge his death. Who's with me?"

A cheer went up from the small crowd, fists raised in the air.

"What about Lynx", one man asked, stepping from the crowd.

"Leave Lynx to me", Clarke said coolly.

Miller watched as she made her way into the office before turning back to the men, "Alright, back to work."

Then a voice sounded, "Does the Princess think she can step into the Rebel king's shoes", Murphy said snidely from where he was leaning against the wall.

Right before their eyes, Clarke's form went rigid and then she spun around the knife coming out of nowhere and flying to embed itself in the wood near Murphy's head.

The blonde stalked up to him, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling his face down level to her own.

"Don't ever call me that again, Murphy. Now get to work, unless you'd prefer I drop you off in Sky territory and watch the sharks circle", she growled.

The redheaded young man just stared at her. This was not the same woman, no this woman was angry and he sincerely believed that she would do just as she said. In that moment he felt a deep respect for her that he couldn't quite explain, and knew that his loyalty now lie with the woman before him.

"Fine, Griffin. I'll toe the line", he said.

"Thanks, John. Now get to work."

Clarke watched him go before reaching for the knife. She pulled it from the wooden surface, closing the blade and placing it back in her pocket. As she walked to his office, memories assailed her.

It had been one year since her father's passing, and Clarke was not having a good day. She felt like punching something, but instead she bottled it up inside. When she reached the Blake residence, she found Bellamy standing in the backyard.

She made her way around the back of the house to find him throwing his knife at a piece of plywood with a black bull's-eye.

"What are you doing", she asked.

He'd turned his velvety brown gaze upon her, his smile easing some of her frustration.

"Throwing. You wanna try it", he asked.

She stepped forward, taking his knife in her grasp and turning to face the board. His breath ghosted across her neck causing her to shiver.

"Alright, hold it like you would a hammer. Extend your arm and then let it fly, but don't forget to follow through", Bellamy explained.

Clarke tried, hitting the mark, and then watching as the knife fell to the grass below.

"Don't chunk it, Princess", he said going to retrieve it.

He brought it back, placing the hilt in her hand. "Ok, throw it a little softer now and keep this straight", he said placing a warm hand on her shoulder.

She threw again, this time sticking the blade on the little round circle. She squealed, turning to wrap her arms around him.

"That was amazing", she said with wide eyes, "Does that make me horrible?"

Bellamy chuckled, "Nope, keep practicing."

They'd spent all afternoon in the backyard, and made it an every Saturday occurrence.

Clarke sat down heavily in his chair, her eyes clouding with tears. When would it get easier? She shook her head. Right now she didn't need it to be easy, she needed to hold on to her rage until Finn Collins and Cage paid for what they'd done.

She looked up when she heard someone enter.

"What is it, Miller?"

"Lynx is here", he said seriously.

"By all means, send him in", Clarke answered, her eyes growing cold.

She watched as the man entered the office, his gray eyes trained on her face.

"Ahh, the Princess herself. What's a little girl like you doing in a place like this", Lynx asked.

"Sit down, Lynx", she said, her voice low and calm.

"I think I'll stand."

"Murphy", Clarke called, "Please, help our guest with his seat."

She watched as Murphy grabbed Lynx and forced him into a chair before moving to stand beside the door.

"Thank you, Murphy", she said with a deceptively warm smile, "Now, what can I do for you Mr. Ferrerra?"

Lynx stared at Clarke for a moment before turning to look at Murphy, "I've been told that you're taking over Blake's shop, but it has to be a misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding", Clarke said with a tilt of her head.

"You can't be serious", Lynx said, his voice rising.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious, Ferrerra. Got a problem with it?"

Lynx watched the woman before him. She was leaned back in the leather chair, a knife twirling in her nimble fingers. Her eyes were lifeless, and he could tell that she had already taken over the shop and there was nothing he could do about it.

"No, I'm just amazed. We've traded in the Rebel king for the Ice queen", he said through gritted teeth.

"Now that that's settled", Clarke said, rising from her chair, "Murphy will show you out."

Miller and the rest of the guys watched as Murphy walked Lynx out. Their gazes traveling from that confusing sight, to the boss' office where Clarke stood leaning in the doorway.

"Miller", she called.

"Yeah, Boss", he said as he approached.

He watched as something in her gaze shattered, and for a moment he regretted his words. Then she spoke, her tone strong and unyielding.

"Lynx has been handled. I want any intel you have on the Sky's, and whatever he had you gather on Collins."

"Sure thing, and Clarke", he said as she turned away, "He would be proud of you."

Miller watched as her shoulders stiffened, and then she continued on her way back into the office. The Princess had become a Queen with ice in her veins. He shook his head, turning to find the men staring at the closed door.

He could see it in their eyes. She had earned their respect that day, and they would follow her anywhere. He had a pretty good idea that they would be marching to war led by the Ice Queen in her crusade for revenge.

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