When Clarke woke up, she was instantly aware of how much her head was hurting. The sunlight pouring in through the windows didn't help, and she squeezed her eyes shut a second after opening them. She groaned. Five minutes must have passed until she remembered the events of last night. Her sudden marriage to Roan, the cutting of their hands, the noisiest dinner party she had ever been to, Nia commanding they consummate their vows…
Clarke shot up into a sitting position. The other half of the bed was empty, and it wasn't until she looked around the room that she found a shirtless Roan, sound asleep on the ground, his blanket only covering up the bottom half of him.
Relief washed over her. If he was on the floor, and she wasn't naked, it probably meant that they hadn't had sex. Yet, she had a distinct memory of pushing him up against a wall— something drunk Clarke was very much known for doing in the past, and getting out of her dress. But here she was, wearing what looked to be the grounders version of a night gown, meaning— he had helped cover her up. At least, she assumed so… since drunk Clarke was also known for not being able to change in and out of clothing without giving up half way through and going to sleep naked.
When he stirred, she looked away, and it wasn't until his voice, sleepy and warm, filled the room, that she turned back.
"Morning." He said lazily, his body sore from sleeping on the floor. He stood and stretched, his blanket sliding from his legs. Clarke tried not to stare at his abs, but she was overcome with the desire to suddenly draw him.
"How are you feeling?"
She lifted her eyes to meet his, her cheeks reddening softly.
"I think embarrassed is a good place to start."
"Don't be." Roan smiled. It was a smile she wasn't all too familiar with. A smile saved for quieter moments. Moments, she was sure, he didn't share with many people. "You were drunk."
"I don't usually drink like that… it's just…" She trailed off.
"You thought we were going to have sex, and drinking was the only way you were going to be able to go through with it."
"I'm sorry." There was no point in lying to him. It wasn't that she didn't find him attractive— she most certainly did, and the image of running her fingers over his abs is something she will never be able to completely erase from her thoughts— but he was part of the reason she was a prisoner of this place to begin with… at least, he hadn't stopped it from happening. Maybe she was being unfair in thinking that he could have, but either way, part of her needed more time. To cope. To adjust. To trust him again. "Thank you for being such a gentleman…"
"You sound surprised." He had slipped into a shirt by now, moving around the room as he prepared for the day.
"I don't know you, Roan. At least, not very well."
He stopped what he was doing, and watched her, his stare making it hard for her to concentrate on anything else.
"Alright. Why don't you have a bath. Get all that make up off." He gestured to her face. "Then get dressed, and I'll meet you downstairs."
"Where are we going?" She was standing now, arms crossed in an attempt to stay warm.
"I'm going to give you the grand tour. You're the princess now, Clarke. It's time you officially met your new people… and your new home."
He left her alone with the aching reminder of how much she missed her mom, her friends… Lexa and Bellamy… She so desperately wished she could see them again. Deciding there, that she would bring it up to Nia when she got the chance. After all, the deal was to unite both of their people.
Yet, that didn't include Lexa. If she was still alive, then they were on opposite sides once again. A thought that left a bad taste in Clarke's mouth, and a tightness in her heart.
Once her face was finally bare of make up, and her hair clean, she tore a piece of fabric off the towel she was using to dry herself, and wrapped her hand with it, intending to keep dirt and other things from getting inside of the cut. Her palm was still sore, but it was only as noticeable as a low hum, and once she began to dress, she practically forgot about it. She had become familiar with grounder clothing when she was alone all those months in the woods, attempting to blend in. Yet, Azgeda clothing was a little thicker, warmer, and had more furs involved. She looked at her reflection in a cracked mirror, and was startled to find how fierce she seemed. She even felt slightly taller.
As soon as she was downstairs, Roan's eye flickered over to her, before handing her a handful of berries and nuts.
"Thought you might be hungry…" He seemed a little distracted, taking in the sight of her.
She smiled softly.
"Thank you."
He nodded, before motioning for her to follow him. When the front doors opened, she was sent back to the night before. Only this time, there was no mob waiting for her, no cleared pathway. The village's main focus was no longer on her and Roan, but on one other. Children played, people traded. There was a sea of smiling faces, and a song of laughter, and Clarke decided she had no clue who the Ice Nation really was until this moment. The warriors, with their faces painted white and bloody, had families too. Had people they deeply cared about. People they were willing to do whatever it takes to protect. Surely, Clarke can relate to that.
They spent the entire day, and evening exploring the market and interacting with the people. Clarke even enjoyed watching as Roan played tag with several children, before she was asked to join in. Soon she found herself being chased by three little girls, right into the arms of her new husband.
"Looks like I got you." His eyes bore into hers, while his hands rested on the sides of her arms. Clarke swallowed hard before taking a step back, almost disappointed when his hands dropped away.
That week went by fast. Every morning he would take her somewhere new, and every night they would take turns telling each other stories from their drastically different childhoods. How funny that they'd up in the same place, at the same time, a random collection of events leading them to where they were now. Together.
It was the beginning of her second week there, when Roan insisted he give her a lesson in fighting.
"We both know you've helped kill more people than I have." His words weren't said to hurt her. He was merely stating a fact. "But that was because of circumstance, and planning. For the most part. You also had other people helping you. When it comes to fighting someone one-on-one, you have your mind paired with your instinct and desire to survive— but whatever skill you may posses hasn't been fine tuned yet. You're careless with a weapon that isn't a gun. If you had succeeded in killing me when we first met, it would have been by chance, and you don't want to have to depend on luck."
He went toward the stables to grab their swords, as Clarke thought about what he said.
"Seems like Wanheda isn't turning out to be such a good nickname for me."
"Now that's something we can agree on. If I've learned anything this week, it's that I much prefer calling you 'Clarke' anyway."
Had he not had his back to her, he would have seen her smile.
When he handed her a sword, she turned it over in her hand, admiring the look of it. It wasn't to heavy or too light and it felt strong in her grip.
"I had it made specially for you." His expression became awkward, when he realized he didn't necessarily have to share that piece of information with her, but she was glad he did. It was little gestures like that, that helped form a fondness toward him.
"Finally. I was wondering when I would get my first wedding gift." Her smile was contagious, and soon he was grinning right along with her.
He spent the next few hours training her. She was knocked to the ground more than she'd care to admit, and he even managed to knick her arm with the edge of his sword.
"My bad." His smirk was playful as he turned to put down his sword. Clarke took this as chance to sneak up behind him, and put her blade against his throat.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to turn your back on your enemies?"
He slowly turned toward her, her sword not moving. He smiled then, and she smiled back— both of them painfully aware of how easy it would be, in this moment, for her to kill him. But a different kind of desire turned in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him standing there— vulnerable. Something new hung in the air between them, and Clarke felt heat build in between her legs. She lowered her weapon, and handed it to him, taking a couple of deep breaths as he put them away.
"Thank you for the lesson." She said, as soon as he was back at her side. "You're a good teacher…and I… I had fun."
It was strange. Clarke couldn't quite pin point the last time she was able to just enjoy herself. She had been running, and hiding, and fighting for months… who would have thought that the first time she gets a moment to herself, it's as a prisoner to the Ice Nation. If she can even refer to herself as that anymore…
She is, after all, their princess now. That's got to mean something.
"And you're a good student."
"I look forward to the day where I'm the one knocking you to the ground, instead of the other way around."
"Hey, all you have to do is ask."
Clarke smiled, biting her bottom lip in a way that drove Roan crazy. Something he wasn't aware of until that very second.
"Did you just flirt with me?" She teased, eye brow arched.
"Well, you are my wife. Flirting tends to come with the territory. Among other things." There were implications in his words, implications Clarke didn't seem to mind anymore. There was also a hint of humour there, and she liked seeing it come out to play.
"Fair enough. Flirt away."
That afternoon was a pleasant one to say the least, and if Clarke didn't think too hard about the fact that Nia had conveniently chosen to take a trip outside of the Ice Nation two days after her and Roan were married, she was able to maintain that pleasantness.
Later, when the two of them were alone again in their room, she discovered several drawings tucked away in a book. One was of the nearby mountains, another was of a child's face, the third one was a horse, and the fourth was a drawing of her, wearing what looked like the grounder clothing she had picked out on the day after their wedding.
She looked over at him, her expression soft.
"You didn't tell me you could draw."
He looked almost startled, and then he was by her side, looking down at his own work.
"It's just a hobby of mine…"
"Well then, it seems we have something in common."
"Really?" He grinned. "You like drawing?"
"I love drawing. I've been desperate to ever since I arrived here. I find it calming. Therapeutic, even."
"Duly noted."
She picked up the drawing of herself, and Roan ran a hand through his hair.
"What's the story behind this one?" She asked, trying to elicit some sort of response from him.
"Just that you looked particularly nice that day." What he said was only half the truth. In reality, seeing her in his clan's traditional grounder clothing had a sort of effect on him, one he wasn't quite ready to admit.
She blushed.
"You'll have to let me draw you one day. It would only be fair."
"One day." He agreed, before moving back to his bed on the floor, while Clarke crawled into the actual bed and made herself comfortable underneath the blankets.
When he was finally laying down he groaned slightly, before turning onto his side.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, it's nothing. My back is sore, that's all."
Without thinking too much about it, she sat up and pat the spot in front of her.
"Come here."
He stared at her without moving.
"I'm not gonna bite, I promise."
He continued to stare at her for a while, before getting back up and sitting on the bed directly in front of her.
To his surprise, she began to massage his shoulders, and down his back, her fingers sliding over his scars and leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.
"That feels amazing." He closed is eyes, practically melting into her as she increased the pressure.
"We all have our talents."
They sat like for the another thirty minutes, and when Clarke pulled away, Roan instantly missed her touch, his back incredibly thankful the treatment it had received.
"Thank you." He smiled, but before he could get up, she grabbed his hand.
"How about you sleep in the bed tonight…" Her voice quiet, and her eyes refused to meet his. "With me?"
The invitation wasn't for anything more than to sleep, but it still felt like a step forward in their relationship, one that she wasn't sure he was ready to take yet. Or if he even wanted to.
"Didn't you just warn me today, not to turn my back on the enemy?" He was smiling, but there was a hint of hesitation in his words.
"Luckily I'm not… I'm not your enemy anymore." While she couldn't find it in herself to trust Nia, she knew Roan was nothing like his mother. That the goodness she saw in him must be genuine. And despite the two of them having almost killed each other in the past, something told her that was no longer an option between them. She hoped she was right.
He nodded, before sliding in next to her, and when Clarke fell asleep, she felt warm.
Maybe even safe.