The snow outside the Polis walls had thickened overnight, muffling the usual morning bustle in the city. A white hush draped the world, as if the land itself held its breath. Kira stood in the outer courtyard of the training grounds, a wooden staff in her hand and sweat dampening the back of her neck despite the cold. Her boots crunched lightly on the frozen ground as she adjusted her stance.
Across from her, a pair of Grounder trainees flanked a third, all armored in mismatched scraps of leather and bone. They looked nervous—rightfully so. Lexa had asked Kira to oversee advanced sparring drills while the Commander met with the war council regarding the skirmishes in Trikru territory. Kira had accepted without hesitation. Anything to stay in motion, to stave off the ever-present tension that clawed at her whenever she sat still too long.
"Begin," she called out, voice crisp.
The trio moved in unison, splitting to try and flank her from different angles. Kira let her breath slow, eyes tracking their footwork, their center of balance. Martial arts had taught her to see people as shapes, angles, leverage points. These three had strong arms but sloppy footing. They were fast—but not coordinated.
She let them come.
The first lunged with a roar, swinging high. Kira ducked under the arc of the blade, spun, and planted her staff against the attacker's ribs, using their own momentum to send them sprawling to the ground with a heavy thud.
The second came in low, trying to trip her. She sidestepped, pivoted her weight, and drove her knee into their chest, knocking the wind from their lungs.
The last one hesitated—and that was enough. Kira darted in and swept the staff across their legs, sending them tumbling with a soft grunt.
The fight was over in seconds.
"Sloppy," Kira said, exhaling as she turned her back on them. "Again."
Groans followed her command, but they pulled themselves up and returned to formation.
She glanced toward the inner walls of Polis. The top of the tower was barely visible from here, but she felt Lexa's presence like a thread pulled taut between them.
Lexa entered the war room later that afternoon with the weight of half a nation on her shoulders. Kira joined her near the end of the meeting, standing just inside the doorway. Ambassadors from four different clans circled the long wooden table. Trikru, Floukru, Sankru, and Delinquents now. Lexa's Coalition had held longer than most thought it would. But rumors of Azgeda stirring again had unsettled the balance.
Kira waited for a lull in conversation before stepping forward.
"What if you gave them something else to focus on?" she asked.
Lexa turned slightly. "Such as?"
Kira leaned forward, voice low. "An opportunity. Not a threat."
Sankru's ambassador raised an eyebrow. "You propose we bribe Azgeda?"
"No," Kira said. "You show strength, but not through violence. Offer a challenge. A rite. Something honorable. If they decline, they lose face. If they accept, you control the terms."
Whispers broke out across the table. Lexa remained quiet for a long moment.
"You're suggesting we bait them into proving their strength publicly," she said.
Kira nodded. "Better they vent in front of witnesses than plot in shadows."
Lexa's eyes held hers. "You have a specific rite in mind."
"I do. I'll fight their champion. One-on-one. Public, binding. No armies involved."
Gasps echoed through the room.
"No," Indra said sharply. "Too risky."
But Lexa's gaze didn't waver.
"You'd fight for the Coalition?" she asked quietly.
Kira's tone was dry. "Didn't I already?"
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Finally, Lexa spoke. "Very well. Send word to Queen Nia. Tell her the Coalition offers a duel. One-on-one. No tricks. No armies. She chooses her champion, and we choose ours."
That night, the fire in Lexa's chamber crackled low. Kira stood by the open balcony, snow melting on the warm stone at her feet. She didn't need to turn to know Lexa was behind her.
"You're angry," Kira said softly.
"No," Lexa replied. "I'm terrified."
Kira blinked. She turned.
Lexa's eyes gleamed in the firelight. "You've never asked permission to act on your instincts. That's part of what makes you dangerous. But I—"
"You didn't want me to volunteer," Kira finished.
Lexa looked away. "No."
Kira stepped closer, watching the shadows flicker across Lexa's face. "But you didn't stop me."
Lexa's lips parted. "I couldn't. It's the right move. Politically. Strategically. But personally—"
"I'm not leaving you," Kira said, voice low. "I'm not dying. Not here. Not for them."
Lexa's jaw tightened. "You can't promise that."
"I just did."
They stood in silence, the weight between them thicker than the snowfall outside.
Kira reached forward and gently cupped Lexa's face. "I'm not a martyr, Lexa. I'm someone who fights for what matters. And right now, that's you. That's the Coalition. That's a future where the next war doesn't take everyone down with it."
Lexa leaned into her touch, her voice raw. "If you fall…"
"I won't," Kira whispered.
The duel was set for three days later.
The arena in the heart of Polis hadn't been used since the first unification trial. Now it was packed with warriors, leaders, and civilians. Torches ringed the space, their flames throwing wild shadows over stone walls. Snow clung to the edges, but the center had been cleared—revealing a circle of dirt and bloodstains from ages past.
Kira stood bare-armed, her weapons strapped across her back: a curved blade, a dagger, and her trusted short staff. Her hair was braided tightly, her breath steady.
Opposite her, Azgeda's champion stepped into the arena.
Tall. Scarred. Wearing wolf pelts and black armor. His axe gleamed in the torchlight.
He grinned at her like he'd already won.
Kira rolled her shoulders. "You sure you brought the right guy?"
The bell sounded.
He charged.
The duel was brutal.
Kira ducked under the first swing of the axe, rolled forward, and struck with the flat of her blade against his thigh. He grunted and swung again, this time catching the edge of her cloak. She spun away, using his weight to her advantage. She was faster, more agile. But he was relentless—blows like falling trees, each one a promise of bone-breaking force.
Minutes passed in a blur of movement and pain. Kira felt her shoulder jar from a glancing blow, ribs bruising from a backhanded strike.
But she didn't fall.
Instead, she twisted beneath his guard and drove her dagger into the soft flesh beneath his arm.
He roared—and then she kicked his knee sideways.
He collapsed.
She pressed the blade to his throat. The crowd held its breath.
He spat blood and sneered. "Do it."
But she didn't.
Kira leaned in. "You lost. That's enough."
Then she stood and turned her back.
The arena erupted in sound—some cheers, some outrage.
But Lexa rose from her throne, her face unreadable. And slowly, she raised her hand.
Victory.
Later, when the crowd had dispersed and the torches had been extinguished, Lexa came to her.
Kira was sitting on the steps of the arena, shirt off, bruises blooming across her arms and side. She held a flask of water and stared up at the stars.
Lexa knelt beside her.
"You won."
Kira smiled tiredly. "Told you I would."
Lexa hesitated, then reached out and brushed her fingers over one of the darker bruises on Kira's shoulder.
"You scared me," she whispered.
Kira leaned into the touch. "You scare me too."
And then, in the quiet, fire-lit hush of the night, their foreheads touched.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Something shifting.
Not yet love—but something close. Something inevitable.
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