When Kira wakes, it's to the steady sound of Lexa's breathing, warm against the side of her throat. For a moment, she stays perfectly still, afraid that if she moves, this fragile pocket of warmth will vanish, like all her dreams before.
She lifts her eyes to the ceiling. The Commander's chambers are bigger than her entire apartment back home — and yet they feel smaller, closer. Shields line the walls, each painted with the sigils of the clans. A single candle burns low on the table by the bed. Outside, Polis still sleeps, but dawn is inching closer, turning the frost on the window to a smear of gold.
Lexa shifts against her, mumbling something in her sleep. Kira smiles — the softness of it aches in her chest. She raises a hand, brushing a stray braid from Lexa's face. She's never seen her like this: unarmored, hair half-undone, the ink around her eyes smudged by sleep and dreams she doesn't share.
Kira's hand stills on Lexa's cheek. She remembers the way Eisa looked at her yesterday — that wolfish grin, all teeth and promise. She remembers Titus's voice: Love has no place here.
She curls closer to Lexa, pressing her lips to her forehead. Then we'll make a place.
By the time Lexa wakes, the dawn is fully alive. She doesn't stretch or groan the way Kira does — she sits up in one fluid motion, all muscle and instinct. It's like watching a tiger wake in your arms.
"You're staring," Lexa says, voice still husky.
"Yeah." Kira props herself on one elbow. "You're pretty. Deal with it."
Lexa's lips curve into that slow, rare smile — the one she only shows when no one's looking. She reaches out, tucking a lock of Kira's hair behind her ear. For a moment, the world holds its breath.
Then a knock shatters it.
"Enter," Lexa calls, her voice snapping back to the Commander's.
The door opens. Titus stands there, face a mask of polite disapproval. Behind him — to Kira's surprise — is Clarke Griffin.
Kira stiffens. She knows that face — even if it's sharper now, harder, her hair tangled from the long road from Arkadia. Clarke's eyes flick from Lexa to Kira — taking in the shared bed, the furs around their shoulders, the intimacy that clings to them like smoke.
Kira feels suddenly naked.
"Clarke," Lexa says, standing, pulling her cloak around her. "Welcome to Polis."
Clarke's eyes narrow. "I see things have changed since last we spoke."
Kira swings her legs out of the bed, standing barefoot on the cold stone floor. She crosses her arms, ignoring Titus's thinly veiled look of triumph — like he's delighted Clarke has come to pry Lexa away from her.
"Don't be an ass, Titus," Kira snaps before she can stop herself.
Lexa cuts her a sharp glance — a warning — but Titus only bows stiffly. "If you need me, Heda."
He leaves, but Clarke stays, her gaze boring into Kira like she's trying to solve a puzzle with a thousand missing pieces.
"So," Clarke says finally. "You're the new 'guest'."
Kira bristles. "I'm not her prisoner."
Clarke laughs — brittle, harsh. "No. Of course not."
Lexa steps between them, voice calm but edged. "We have more important matters than jealousy, Clarke."
"I'm not jealous." Clarke's voice cracks like ice. "I just came to remind you that while you've been playing house, Azgeda's been moving warbands into Trikru territory."
Kira frowns. "How do you know that?"
"I have people," Clarke says, dismissing her. She turns back to Lexa. "If we don't act, they'll break your coalition before you can blink. You have to strike back."
Lexa's eyes flick to Kira — an unspoken question: Will you stand by me?
Kira nods. "She's right. If we let Eisa and Nia test you, they'll keep pushing until they see you bleed."
Clarke raises an eyebrow at Kira's easy use of the clan leaders' names. "And you are… what? Her new spy? Her shadow? Or just a warm body in her bed?"
Something ugly twists in Kira's stomach, but she shoves it down. "I'm whatever she needs me to be."
Clarke flinches. Lexa sees it — Kira sees her see it — but the Commander gives no comfort.
"We'll speak with the ambassadors," Lexa says. "Both of you. Meet me in the council chamber. Now."
✦ ✦ ✦
The council room is buzzing with tension. Ambassadors from each clan gather in a loose circle — some armored, some robed in furs and bone jewelry. The air stinks of sweat, smoke, and simmering violence.
Lexa stands at the center, every inch the Commander. Beside her, Kira feels the weight of a hundred eyes, each calculating what she means. On the other side of Lexa, Clarke stands stiffly — the ghost of past betrayals written in the tight line of her shoulders.
Indra speaks first. "Azgeda denies any breach of territory. They claim the warbands hunt game."
Eisa laughs from her place against the wall. "Are Trikru so weak they can't share meat?"
"Don't lie," Clarke spits. "You're moving scouts to test the border. You want to provoke Trikru into breaking the coalition so you can blame them for the war."
Eisa's smile is all sharp edges. "And what would Skaikru know of our hunts? Or do you spy on your allies now?"
Lexa lifts a hand — and silence falls. Her eyes rake over the room, daring anyone to look away. No one does.
"There will be no bloodshed over lies," she says. "If Azgeda claims to hunt, they may keep to their territory. But if a single warrior crosses into Trikru land again, they will be met with steel."
Her voice rings in the stone hall, cold and final.
Eisa bows mockingly. "As Heda commands."
But Kira sees the glint in her eyes — the promise of storms yet to come.
✦ ✦ ✦
After, Kira storms down the corridor, Clarke at her heels.
"You let her get away with it!" Clarke hisses.
Kira spins on her. "Did you not hear her? Lexa made her threat. Azgeda heard it."
"She should have ordered an attack," Clarke snaps. "She should have cut out Nia's tongue years ago."
"And you would know about that?" Kira fires back. "You left her to pick up the pieces. Don't pretend you get to judge now."
Clarke's eyes narrow. "You think you know her?"
Kira's heart stutters — because yes, she does. And she hates that Clarke might still know parts she hasn't seen yet.
"I know what she needs," Kira says. "Do you?"
For a heartbeat, they stand nose to nose — two worlds that can't coexist. Then Clarke's shoulders slump. She looks suddenly small, so far from the fierce 'Wanheda' that whispers about her have become.
"You don't get it," Clarke murmurs. "She's trying so hard to hold this together. But they'll never stop testing her. You think they'll ever respect her while she's… while she's in love?"
Kira's throat tightens. "She's strong."
"That's not what they see. To them, love is weakness. And weakness is an open wound."
Clarke steps back, eyes gleaming with tears she refuses to shed. "If you love her — really love her — you have to protect her from that."
Kira wants to scream that she knows. That every time she touches Lexa, she feels the blade pressed to both their throats. That she'd give up every heartbeat for the chance to keep her breathing.
But she says nothing. Because the truth is too big for words.
✦ ✦ ✦
That night, Titus corners her in the temple courtyard.
"You've done well," he says grudgingly, voice echoing off the ancient stones. "Keeping Clarke at bay. Keeping Eisa from striking."
Kira snorts. "Don't thank me yet. They're not done."
"They never will be." Titus steps closer. His shadow swallows hers. "You asked me once why I didn't trust you. This is why. You love her — enough to make her blind. Enough to die for her. But what happens when the price is her dying for you?"
Kira's stomach knots. "That won't happen."
"Won't it?" Titus's eyes burn in the torchlight. "If you truly want to protect her, you must be willing to become the thing she cannot be. The threat in the shadows. The sin she doesn't have to touch."
He presses something into her hand — cold, heavy. A blade. Small enough to hide in her sleeve.
"Strike at the root before it grows," Titus whispers. "Or she will fall."
Kira looks down at the knife — the symbol of all the lines she swore she'd never cross.
She closes her fist around it.
✦ ✦ ✦
When she returns to Lexa's chambers, Lexa is waiting for her at the window. The moonlight paints her in silver and sorrow.
"You spoke with Clarke," Lexa says, not turning.
"Yes."
"And Titus."
"Yes."
Lexa's shoulders tremble. She grips the stone sill until her knuckles pale. "They all want me to let you go."
Kira crosses the room in two strides, cups Lexa's face in her hands. "Then don't."
Lexa's eyes glisten. "It would be easier."
Kira kisses her — fierce, desperate. She tastes salt, tears neither of them will name.
"Easy isn't why I'm here," Kira whispers against her lips. "I'm here because I'd burn with you. Because I'd kill for you."
Lexa flinches — but she doesn't pull away. She pulls Kira closer.
Outside, Polis sleeps under a blanket of fresh snow.
Inside, two women cling to each other like they're the last warmth left in a world made of knives.
And in the shadows of Kira's sleeve, the blade Titus gave her waits — a promise that love can't always save what it holds.
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