Kira didn't turn when she heard the soft footfalls behind her. She'd long since memorized the rhythm of Lexa's steps—graceful, deliberate, confident without aggression. Even when the Commander approached like a shadow, Kira always knew it was her.
Lexa stood at the edge of the rooftop garden for a moment, silent, watching the stars with her. The city lights of Polis were soft below them, flickering amber through the night mist. Wind teased at their cloaks. The silence between them wasn't cold or awkward—it hummed with tension, the kind that existed between people who shared too much without speaking it aloud.
"You seek solitude a lot lately," Lexa said quietly.
"I'm not sure it's solitude I'm after," Kira replied without looking. "Sometimes I just need quiet."
Lexa stepped closer, her voice low. "There's a difference?"
"There is for me." Kira tilted her head to look up at her. "Solitude is empty. Quiet is... peace."
Lexa considered that. "And which one is this?"
Kira's lips tugged upward. "You haven't ruined it yet."
The corner of Lexa's mouth lifted slightly, but her expression quickly turned more serious. "I came to speak about Roan. The message has been sent. In three days, he meets Queen Nia in the Frosthall."
"Assuming she takes the bait."
"She will. She always underestimates diplomacy." Lexa stepped beside Kira, her arms folded behind her back. "Roan asked again if you would be there."
Kira turned more fully. "Does he want me for backup, or to make sure he does it?"
"Both," Lexa admitted. "He respects you. In his own... terse, Ice Nation way."
Kira smirked. "If he slips, I'll finish the job."
Lexa nodded, but didn't reply.
The stars stretched across the sky in cold, glittering patterns. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The wind brushed a strand of hair from Lexa's face. Kira watched it catch against her jawline and wondered if Lexa noticed how mortal she looked in moments like this. Not a Commander. Not a symbol. Just... a woman.
"You're quieter than usual," Kira said.
Lexa's gaze stayed forward. "I've been thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
Lexa smiled, faint and fleeting. "You've changed things."
Kira raised a brow. "Me?"
Lexa finally turned her head. "When you arrived, I thought you were... foreign. Unpredictable. But you've made the Coalition stronger. You've made me stronger. Even when you argue with me."
Kira chuckled. "Especially then."
"Yes," Lexa agreed softly. "Especially then."
The words hung between them, delicate and rare. Kira felt something tighten in her chest. Not nerves. Not fear. Something more elusive. Anticipation, maybe. Or curiosity. Or the stirrings of something she wasn't ready to name.
"You ever let anyone get close like this before?" Kira asked.
Lexa's expression didn't change much, but her voice dipped lower. "Not since Costia."
The name struck a chord. Kira had known it would come up eventually. She remembered the episodes—fragments of Lexa's grief, held tight behind steel and silence.
"She meant a lot to you."
"Yes."
"And now?"
Lexa looked at her then. Direct. Unflinching. "Now there is... space. But I do not fill it lightly."
Kira's gaze softened. "Good. Neither do I."
They stood in the quiet again. A different kind of silence now—not just peaceful, but charged. The night hummed with the things they weren't saying.
Then Lexa spoke, barely above a whisper. "When this is over... after Azgeda... I would like to share more of that space with you."
Kira's heartbeat kicked up, but her smile stayed small and sure. "One war at a time, Commander."
The journey to Frosthall began the next morning.
Kira traveled light—just her gear, her weapons, and a single satchel tucked into her inventory space. Lexa didn't join the mission; her presence would be too obvious. Roan led the group, along with three Ice Nation warriors he trusted only slightly more than he distrusted himself.
Kira stayed close to him as they moved through snow-dusted valleys and jagged foothills. The terrain grew colder with each passing day. The trees thinned into skeletal sentinels, and frost gathered like warning signs along the edges of their campfires.
"You don't speak much," Roan said one night, as they sat near the fire.
"Neither do you," Kira replied.
"Mine is caution. Yours?"
Kira looked into the flames. "I've said a lot in my life. Some things are better felt than explained."
Roan nodded slowly. "Lexa cares for you."
Kira didn't respond immediately. She added a stick to the fire, watching the sparks catch.
"She doesn't show that easily," Roan said. "But with you... it's there."
Kira met his eyes. "I know."
Roan's expression didn't change. "If you break her heart, I will bury you."
Kira barked a laugh. "That's fair."
They shared a long look. There was no need for posturing. No threat behind the words. Just understanding between two warriors who had both seen what loss could do to a person.
Frosthall was carved into the side of a black mountain, its stone halls gleaming with frost and echoes. Banners of Ice Nation blue and silver fluttered in the frigid wind. Queen Nia sat on a raised throne carved from obsidian and bone, her face as sharp as the dagger at her side.
Roan bowed low. Kira didn't.
Nia noticed.
"This is the one you vouched for?" she asked coldly.
"Yes," Roan said. "Kira of no clan, but a warrior trusted by Lexa."
Nia narrowed her eyes. "Lexa's pet?"
Kira smiled thinly. "I don't belong to anyone."
"She's here to observe," Roan said. "A gesture of openness."
"And to ensure you don't poison me in my sleep," Kira added, cheerful.
Roan looked like he might sigh.
Nia's lip curled. "You have nerve."
"You tried to have me killed. I'm just returning the courtesy."
There was a beat of silence. Then Nia laughed. It was a short, humorless sound, but it broke some of the tension.
"Very well," she said. "We meet tomorrow to discuss terms. Try not to bleed on my floors."
The next night, as snow fell in thick, silent sheets outside the windows of her quarters, Kira prepared. She checked her knives, the compartments in her boots, the slender needle-blade hidden in her hair braid. Roan had given her the signal earlier—a tilt of the hand, a specific glance. Nia would be alone tonight, save for two guards. She'd taken the bait.
The dagger would fall by Roan's hand.
But Kira would be there to ensure it didn't fall in vain.
She slipped through the halls like smoke, avoiding the guards with practiced ease. Her presence was a whisper—barely a shadow in the dark.
When she reached the private audience chamber, she paused behind the ornate wooden door. A voice murmured inside.
Roan.
And then a scream.
Kira moved.
The doors burst open. Two guards turned—too slow. She dropped one with a strike to the throat and sent the other sprawling with a spinning kick to the ribs. Roan stood over the throne, his blade embedded in his mother's chest.
Nia gasped, blood bubbling at her lips.
"You always were weak," she rasped.
Roan's jaw was tight. "No. I was just done being your weapon."
She died with her eyes open.
Kira stepped forward, checking the room. "Anyone else coming?"
"Not yet."
She nodded. "Then let's vanish before they decide we did this for Lexa."
Roan yanked the blade free and followed her out, silent as snowfall.
By the time they returned to Polis, word had already spread.
Queen Nia was dead. Prince Roan, the only heir, had survived an "assassination attempt" and ascended the throne. There was suspicion, of course—but no proof. No witnesses. Only whispers. And in the world of the Coalition, whispers were rarely louder than necessity.
Lexa met them in the war room, alone.
"You did it," she said softly, her eyes flicking from Kira to Roan.
Roan nodded. "It's done. I don't expect peace. But I'll hold the Ice Nation together."
Lexa studied him for a long moment. "That's all I ask."
He turned to Kira. "Try not to let her break you."
Kira smirked. "Right back at you, King Roan."
After he left, Lexa didn't say anything. She stepped closer to Kira, their faces inches apart.
"You risked a lot for this," she murmured.
"So did you."
Lexa lifted a hand—paused just before brushing Kira's cheek. "I still don't know what this is. Between us."
Kira leaned forward slightly, eyes meeting hers. "Neither do I. But I know it's worth finding out."
Their lips didn't touch. Not yet.
But they stood there, breath mingling in the quiet, and it felt like a promise had been made in the space between heartbeats.
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