"And touching you was like playing with fire,
I knew I'd get burned if I continued
But the risk was part of the fun."

Clarke stumbled her way to the training room just before dawn. Her entire body ached all over, and she was so tired from tossing and turning last night. Unable to truly rest with Roan's words repeating in her head. She wondered if he spoke from experience. And which one was he? A murderer, a warrior, or a leader? Sure, he leads his people, but did he relish in the deaths of those he killed? Did he like seeing the life fade from their eyes, or was he like her? Full of regret for the lives he had taken. Maybe he was, or perhaps he wasn't, but it didn't matter. The people they had killed were still dead, and nothing would ever bring them back. It would forever be a stain upon their souls, one that would never wash off.

"Have you even ate yet?" Bellamy asked when she finally made her way into the mirrored room. If she had to guess it had once been used for a dance studio of some kind. Now it was simply worn down with cracked mirrors and dusty floors. "No. I'd rather not throw it all back up after Roan kicks my as again today." Clarke sighs. Sending Bellamy a glance she begins to stretch, hoping to ease some of the aches in her muscles.

"Clarke, you can't fight on an empty stomach. You need food to fuel your body. I bet you didn't eat last night either." Bellamy frowns, staring at the way Clark moves her body from one position to another. It's erotic in a way that it really shouldn't be, not with the multitude of bruises that cover her skin. They've already started turning purple and black, and it sends a jolt of anger through him. Anger at Roan for doing this to her, and anger at Clarke for needing him to do so.

"Stop worrying Bellamy. I'll be fine. I've survived worse. I'll survive this. And I'll be stronger for it." Clarke huffs, glaring at him from the floor. It's ineffective, especially when she's nearly bent over backward staring up at him. Bellamy runs a hand down his face. So fucking stubborn. He shakes his head but lets the issue drop for now. Arguing with her will just piss him off more, and he's through being angry at her. But she makes it so damned difficult when she keeps running herself into the ground. Like she wants to die.

"Fine. But you're eating once you're done with this for today." He tells her, leaving no room for argument. She smiles up at him and resumes stretching. It's painful, but a good kind of pain. The kind that tells her she's alive. That she can feel something after all.

"Whatever you say, Bell," she mumbles before laying back on the floor to raise her legs into the air. Roan walks in at that moment and has to stop at the sight of her on the floor with her golden hair splayed around her. It contrasts highly with the dirty floor, and he wants to snarl at her. To pull her from the floor and tell her that a Queen should never lower herself to that level. But he can't she's not his Queen yet. No, right now she's still Skaikru's Princess. Bellamy's Princess. That thought makes his jaw clench in anger. Not for long he thinks, staring at Clarke while she manipulates her body again, rolling over to push up on her toes and hands. The sight is enough for Roan to finally make himself known, anything to prevent Bellamy from staring at her ass any longer.

"You're here. Good. If you're done, we can get started." He barks out, smirking when she loses her concentration and falls. He ignores the glare Bellamy sends his way and steps over to help Clarke stand. Frowning he notices that she's swaying on her feet lightly. Her eyes have bags under them, partly due to her nightmares he's sure. But she's also pale, and the longer he stares at her, the clearer it becomes. She's weakened. Tired and worn down, but she's still here. He feels his respect for her grow.

"Have you eaten Wanheda?" He questions, looking intently into her eyes. At her frown and a small shake of her head, he rolls his eyes. Grabbing her hand he tells her, "Come on then." Snarling at Bellamy when he moves to pull her away from him. Like he would ever truly hurt her. Even with the bruises littering her body, he had not broken a single bone or done any life threatening damage. Though he had plenty opportunity to do so.

"Wait, where are we going?" Clarke asks, looking surprised. Her eyebrows have drawn up, and her lips are puckered slightly. Roan feels his lips twitch, honestly, she's adorable. The way she thinks she's larger than life. She is, but she's also tiny and susceptible to death, just like anyone else. Regardless of being called Wanheda, he knows no one can truly command death. Not even her. But he also knows that she will try.

"To get you some food. You can barely stand, and I will not train you if you're not caring for yourself." Roan supplies, crossing his arms over his chest to stare down at her. Clarke glares up at him, crossing her arms as well. "I can wait."

He rolls his eyes. God, must she be so stubborn. "No, you can't. Either you eat, or you find another to teach you." He watches the indecision play across her face and knows he's won by the drooping of her shoulders. "Fine." She huffs, brushing past him. Staring at Bellamy he smirks.

"Seems you're not taking such good care of your princess after all." He goads before leaving the room as well. He follows Clarke, catching up to her quickly, leaving Bellamy behind to curse in the room.

He smirks when he sees she's approaching the stairs instead of the old elevator. As if he's actually going to allow her to walk down twenty flights of stairs in her condition. He saunters up to her and grasps her shoulder, leading her to the elevator. She frowns at him and goes to pull away and he lets her, though it pains him to do so. He wants to keep her close to him, by his side where she should be. She might not know it yet, but she was already his. And he could be patient to get her to agree. But even his patience had a limit.

"We'll take the elevator." He smiles down at her, trying not to make it sound like the command it is. But she can tell, and usually, her hackles would have raised but she's just too damn sore to care right now. Instead, she's grateful for the reprieve on her sore muscles knowing that had she actually tried to walk down the stairs she would have most likely collapsed. So she nods and follows him to the elevator where he motions for the guards to let them on. And after the doors close she suddenly realizes just how small the elevator actually is. Roan sends her a smirk, and she feels the temperature in the cramped space go up a few notches and she turns her head forward. She can feel his eyes on her though, and the tension between them building. She's tempted to ask him if she has something on her face, but she knows that look in his eyes. It's the same look that Lexa and Finn would give her right before they took her to bed. It was the same look she occasionally caught Bellamy sending her. It was full of promises and unspoken desires, and she wondered which man would make her scream louder. Roan. Definitely Roan. Bellamy would want to take things slow at first, he'd want to chase away her demons with his touch. Roan would simply want to fuck them out of her.

Staring straight ahead she felt her face heat up at the thoughts running rampant in her mind. She shouldn't think of either of them that way, regardless of how much she wanted to climb into either of their beds. The attraction was there, sure, but one was her mentor, and the other was her co-leader and best friend. There were lines and boundaries there. Ones she wasn't willing to cross no matter how tempting it might be to do so. Blissful relief filled her when the elevator doors opened and she could escape the charged space. The guards stared at her when she rushed from the elevator, but she didn't care. She needed space from Roan and the thoughts that accompanied him. She would not, could not, go there. Not when she was still broken and learning to heal. And not when she was still trying to figure out if Bellamy was more to her than a best friend.

Roan followed Clarke out at a leisurely pace smirking at her show of uncomfortableness. He affected her, that much was obvious. Now, he just needed her to act on those feelings. Something he was going to enjoy doing very much. He watched her walk ahead of him by a few steps and how the people seemed to just flow out of her way. She barely noticed and he wondered if it was because she was used to it, or if it was a product of her shutting everything around her out. He knew that she still worried about people hating her, blaming her, but he needed her to see past that. Sighing he finally met her pace enough to walk beside her and he knew that they made quite the imposing pair. She was soft and delicate compared to him, and they contrasted together nicely. He could be the iron fist to rule the entire coalition, while she would be the velvet glove. She had compassion for people that he lacked, for he was too hardened from his time growing up in Azgeda, and later Polis. She would temper his anger, and he knew the sex would be amazing. Even more so now that he had seen just how flexible she truly was.

She had stopped in front of a small food vendor, and before she could pay for the bowl of oats and fruit she had ordered, he had reached out and placed a bit of tender in the merchant's hand. Ignoring the way she glared at him, he placed a hand on the small of her back and led her through the city. It had been years since he had been free to roam where he grew up, and he enjoyed seeing the people's faces at watching the Azgeda king with the great Wanheda. Awe, shock, fear, suspicion. It was obvious that people were concerned and confused. Clarke held herself tensely, but slowly relaxed when he didn't move his hand any lower. He smirked, knowing that it was enough for now.

"I could've paid for myself," Clarke tells him, sending him a look before nearly stumbling over the uneven ground. He catches her effortlessly, turning her to face him.

"That may be so, but it is my pleasure to take care of you, Clarke." He murmurs, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitches and he stares down at her, watching the way her lips part. Her tongue peeks out to wet the bottom one, and he can't help himself. The hand at her ear threads through her hair and he pulls her close. Claiming her lips in a heated kiss. Dominating it, he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, pleased when she caresses his in return. She melts into it, dropping the bowl of food on the ground with a clatter as one of her hands makes its way to his neck while the other rests on his chest. It's blissful. It's heavenly. It's wrong. And with that thought, she pulls herself away. Staring at him in shock, she stammers out an excuse and turns from him. Fleeing with the taste of him on her lips and a pounding in her heart. No, she thinks, no! She can't allow this to happen and so she runs, runs until her side aches and her breathing is even more ragged. She runs until she collapses, with great heaving sobs.

She knows that logically she hasn't done anything wrong. Roan is handsome, and they're obviously attracted to one another, but she can't help but feel as if she's betrayed, Bellamy. Which is insane. She doesn't owe him anything, not really. And that thought sends a pang through her heart because although she might not owe him anything, she wants to. But is it worth the risk of losing him? The risk of their relationship failing and him hating her? Or worse, dying? The way Lexa died? The way Finn died? Hell, even the way Wells died? Everything she touches turns to ash, and she can't watch that happen to him. Never him. So she sits, and she cries until her body has no more tears to shed, and she wonders when did life become so complicated. And the answer is simple. It always was, she just never saw it.

Roan watched Clarke run with a smile on his face. Let her run, he thinks, but she'll be back. He licks his lips and relishes in the way she tasted. Like fire, searing through his veins and he knows he wants more. That he will have more. Glancing around he grins at the people staring at him. Good, let them stare. Let them talk. He wants the rumors to spread. For people to know that he kissed her in broad daylight and that she was so overcome she had to flee. Let that get back to Bellamy. Maybe then the fool would realize he didn't have a chance. Not really. Because no matter what happened, in the end, he would have Clarke as his Queen. Even if he has to kill every potential threat to his goal. Because now that he's had a taste, it will never be enough to sate the hunger he has for her.

A/N: Chapter 3 of SitM is through, and now we wait to see what Bellamy's going to do. Poor Clarke is beyond confused, and Roan is plotting. Thanks as always to my amazing Beta Vino Amore, you're one in a trillion doll. As always reviews are welcome. Til next time, Lilbit903.