The clang of steel against steel echoed across the practice yard. Sweat glistened on Kira's brow as she pivoted, ducking a heavy strike from a burly Grounder warrior and returning it with a calculated sweep of her leg. The man hit the ground with a thud, breath knocked out of him.
The surrounding warriors let out a cheer, half-respectful and half-wary. Kira offered a hand to the downed fighter, who took it without hesitation. There was no shame in defeat when it came from someone who moved like a storm wrapped in flesh.
From the edges of the training grounds, Lexa observed. Cloaked in the shadows of the wooden beams, her green eyes never left Kira. There was a quiet ferocity in the way Kira fought, as if every movement was memory and instinct. As if she danced with ghosts no one else could see.
"That makes six," Indra said, standing beside Lexa. "They line up to face her, thinking it will humble her. But she humbles them instead."
Lexa didn't smile, but her tone was lighter than usual. "They need to learn. Better here than on the battlefield."
Indra cast her a sidelong glance. "You trust her."
"I do," Lexa said simply. Her eyes met Indra's. "And not just with a blade."
After the session, Kira retired to the barracks reserved for special guests. She pulled off her training gear, letting the cool breeze from the open window kiss her damp skin. Her muscles ached in that satisfying way that only came after a fight well won. She sank onto the bed, stretching out, when a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," she called, expecting one of the guards.
It was Lexa.
She stepped inside without ceremony, shutting the door behind her. Her hair was still braided from council duties, but she wore a simpler tunic, her armor left behind.
"You were watching," Kira said, sitting up.
Lexa nodded. "You fight with emotion. Most warriors train to push it down. You wield it."
"Is that a compliment or a warning?"
"Both."
They shared a quiet moment. The tension between them had always been there, like the moment before lightning strikes—too charged to ignore, too unpredictable to name.
"You didn't come just to talk about my technique," Kira said softly.
Lexa hesitated, then stepped closer. "No."
She reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from Kira's face. Her fingers lingered, tracing along her cheekbone.
"You're dangerous," Lexa murmured.
Kira's voice dropped. "So are you."
Their eyes met—not as Commander and ally, but as two women caught in a moment bigger than either of them could control. The air between them thickened, not with words, but something heavier, electric.
But Lexa pulled back.
Not yet.
Kira nodded, understanding. This wasn't fear. It was discipline.
And it only made her want her more.
Later that night, Kira walked the outer wall alone. The stars overhead were fierce and cold, watching from their thrones in the sky. She thought of her old world. Of the life she had left behind. Would she ever want to go back, if she could?
A footstep crunched behind her.
She turned fast, hand at her side.
But it was Clarke.
"Easy," Clarke said, raising her hands. "Just me."
Kira relaxed. "You shouldn't sneak up on people who trained in a war zone."
Clarke gave her a tired smile. "I thought this place would feel safer. But the more I learn, the more I realize it's just another kind of battlefield."
Kira nodded. "Different wars. Same monsters."
They stood together for a while, leaning against the cold stone, each lost in her own thoughts.
Clarke broke the silence. "Lexa listens to you."
"She listens to reason," Kira said.
Clarke frowned. "I don't think it's just that."
Kira turned her head slowly. "Are you jealous?"
Clarke blinked, caught off guard. "No. I just… I know her. Or thought I did."
Kira smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "She's not yours to know."
There was no venom in her voice. Just truth.
The next morning brought news: a Trikru village had been burned. No survivors. Azgeda sigils marked the ruins.
Lexa summoned the war council. Kira stood beside her, watching as maps were unrolled, names named, and old wounds reopened.
Indra slammed her fist on the table. "This is a declaration of war."
"No," Lexa said. "It's a provocation."
Kira stepped forward. "They want you to act. To overreach. Then the Coalition fractures."
Lexa nodded. "We retaliate with precision. Not rage."
Kira glanced at the flames crackling in the hearth. "Then let me burn them carefully."
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