the 100, NIGHTBLOOD

47 - War Paint + prince roan

PRE - THE 100

The paint was still fresh on your face when he came to Polis. You weren't expecting him today but you had learned that Ice Nation weren't keen to keep promises.

It was a quieter day as your role of Commander and you were alone except for Titus standing next to you, he was a close friend and you did trust him with your life, just not your secrets.

The doors burst open in a flash, the sudden noise causing you to stand with your sword outstretched. There had been too many assaination attempts for you to not take things like this seriously. You waited for the person to enter, the figure wore a dark robe with their face concealed but the large fur coat and weapons at their side showed you it was a possible threat.

It was a threat but not to your body, to your heart. The figure walked into the meeting room and stood silently in the middle just as guards rushed into the room, you bade them stop by raising your left arm.

"Speak your peace." You told the intruder with the authority to command the room.

"I cannot speak of peace." A male voice told you and you let your shoulders relax the tiniest bit, the voice was like honey to you sickly sweet honey.

"Then speak of your will." You replied and his head turned up to you as ragged and calloused hands reached up to pull the hood away.

Prince Roan of the Ice Nation stood in front of you with a soft smirk on his face, his hair falling down to his shoulders and the new scars on his face fresh on his face.

"It is something you do not wish to hear,  Commander." Roan dressed you formally as he saw you relax and put away your sword as Titus knuckles whitened around his. Ice Nation was still enemies of the informal alliances between clans. You had been unable to set up any formal coalitions or agreements between the thirteen clans, for now the role of Commander was just a mere title.

You went to sit back down on your chair, clad in the same fur skin as Roan. It was of the animal you had caught when you went hunting together the last time, you secretly hoped that Titus wouldn't recognise it as being a native of Ice Nation territory.

"Leave us," You bid your advisor and the Guards away with the flick of your wrists. Dismay and annoyance crossed their faces but they moved swiftly out but you did not let your guard down until you heard the doors slam close together, "I did not expect to see you so early Roan."

"Neither did I Commander." The Prince replied as he took off his coat and armour slowly leaving them in a pile on your left. You watched him as he did so, his vest allowed you to see his muscles flexing with every movement.

"Next time I would appreciate more discretion." You calculated what to say and raised your eyebrows as you leaned back in your chair.

Roan walked towards you on the chair and put his hands on the arms, enclosing you in, "Next time come see me, Commander."

You scoffed and stood up straighter when you saw his face. He had a new scar on his cheek and you saw how the wound was still relatively fresh, you brought your hand up to him and stroked it with your thumb. He didn't wince but you knew he was concealing the slight discomfort, "You don't have to hide your pain with me Roan."

Roan mirrored your action and put his hand beneath your chin, bringing his face closer to your so you could feel his hot breath on your cheek. It was a sensation you would never get used to, no matter how many times he did it, "Pain isn't permanent."

"Nothing is." You replied and as if you were contradicting yourself you kissed him. You felt his lips against yours and closed your eyes, this wasn't permeant, your love affair with a mortal enemy of your title was ephemeral. And you loved it as you felt him kiss you back with a reserved happiness.

It was like every time you kissed, you didn't want it to end but it had to. Roan pulled away and stood up again, walking to the window. Normally you would have been concerned about him being seen but you let him, you decided you worried to much.

"Those scars look permanent." You said to his back before rising off your throne and removing your over protected pieces of armour on your torso. Leaving you in a simple top exposing your collarbones.

"Is that the reason you don't want any?" Roan asked you and you winced slightly. You knew what he was hinting at, this secret affair had been going on for so long that you had lost count of the days and the months. Recently he had been dropping little suggestions about an official union. You both wanted it, but both of you knew it couldn't happen.

"I already have too many to count." You referred to your back tattoo from your conclave, it was a strange thing. It didn't haunt you, it haunted who ever you were with. It reminded them they laid with a murdurer, it's like how Roan's scars tormented your duties. You should be alone, anyway who ever comes close to the Commander ultimately wished they didn't.

Both of you stood by the window, side by side looking out over Polis.

"You never told me about your conclave." Roan was inquisitive, he knew your personality yet didn't know how it was shaped by your past.

"Because I don't want to remember." You walked away as if you could walk away from that fateful day. You sat down and let yourself look as stressed as you were, you ran your fingers through your hair and pinched the bridge of your nose.

The prince stopped in his stride behind you and crouched down. He stared at the top of the tattoo on your back that he has seen before and let his finger trace the lines on the back of your neck.

He found the marks as beautifully sad as you found his scars, the two things keeping you apart. Roan wanted to know the story from your view, he has heard rumours of your conclave and if they are true knows that you must speak of it.

He whispers your name and asks, "Your pain is mine."

And so with his hands on your shoulders you stared at the floor and recounted the events. It was hard, your throat went dry when you talk about the first kill of the event, the smallest teenager you had ever seen; you sent a dagger into his back as he ran. That was the death that stuck with you the most,  how in your sheer panic you had turned on the small and the weak. It disgusted you to this day.

You didn't kill as many as others did, your total of only three was something you held a secret pride for. You weren't a killing machine, you just won out of luck and skill. Yet you bore the circles of all their lives on your skin, claiming their death as a sacrifice for your power.

Then you found your eyes starting to water, you didn't cry or sob. The only trace of human emotion was the salty liquid that fell down your cheek.

"You can cry around me." Roan told you wiping the tear off your cheek.

"I don't want to cry at all." You told him as you saw his thumb come back black from your smudged war paint around your eyes. Instinctively you touched your cheekbones and it came back the same colour.

Roan didn't respond except by wetting his finger again and tracing a copy of his scars onto your face, he at least wanted to see what you could look like with them.

And you did the same except branding him with the paint of the Commander, he looked handsome, you thought he looked more powerful then you could ever.

For a moment it was beautiful, it was as if you were finally together and had no need to hide it from anybody else. There was only one problem; war paint washes off.

-

somebody find me a good roan fic asap or else I will have to write one. also only a couple of oneshots left til I'm finished!