Kira never imagined she'd stand before a circle of warriors, nobles, and spies — each one a test she never asked to take.
She stands behind Lexa's right shoulder in the high council chamber, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles ache. She can feel the heat of Lexa's presence beside her — like standing next to a forge that could just as easily warm her or burn her alive.
The room itself is breathtaking in its brutality. Stone columns rise like spears toward the domed ceiling. Banners hang limp in the chill air, their colors dull in the thin light that filters through slitted windows. A ring of advisors and ambassadors stands arrayed before the dais — Trikru, Azgeda, even the solemn face of Indra, who watches Kira with eyes that seem to read every lie she's ever told.
And Titus. Always Titus. He stands at Lexa's left hand, his fingers drumming against his hip, eyes flicking to Kira with an acid burn of suspicion.
Lexa sits on the throne, spine straight, crown of woven metal pressing into the braids at her brow. She speaks calmly, her voice cutting through the low murmur of the chamber.
"Before you stands Kira kom Skaikru." She pauses. Lets the word hang like a blade. "She brings visions of what may come. Warnings. Truths that may save us — or break us."
A scoff echoes from Azgeda's side of the circle — Nia's ambassador, a hawk-faced woman named Eisa, steps forward. "A Sky witch comes to Polis with 'visions'? Heda, you insult our blades with these children's tales."
Kira tries not to flinch. She lifts her chin instead, eyes locked on Lexa's profile. Trust her, she tells herself. Or at least trust the part of her that trusts you.
Lexa leans forward. "Kira, tell them what you told me."
Kira swallows. The taste of stale bread still sits on her tongue, heavy as lead. She steps forward, fighting to keep her hands from trembling.
"I've seen the betrayal that waits for you," she begins, her voice soft but clear. "I've seen Titus raise a Sky weapon to protect you — and strike you down instead. I've seen the Mountain fall, but its poison remain in your courts. I've seen alliances shattered by fear."
Another voice cuts in — a woman with scars crisscrossing her throat. "And you expect us to believe you? That you see the future like a Seer?"
Kira meets her eyes. "I don't see the future. I see a future. One that can be changed — if you listen."
Titus steps forward, his boots echoing like thunder in the hall. "She dreams in the tongue of the Mountain. You would put your faith in a Sky girl who knows nothing of our ways?"
Lexa's eyes flick toward him — that warning gleam that Kira has come to recognize. But before Lexa can speak, Indra steps forward.
"Let her prove herself."
Kira's breath catches. Indra's voice is low, steady, carrying the weight of decades of blood spilled and alliances forged.
Indra's eyes pin Kira like a butterfly on a spear. "You say you know our story. Then show us the ending. If you know how to stop betrayal, stop it now."
A murmur ripples through the chamber. Titus looks like he's about to snap his staff across his knee.
Kira's mind races. She forces herself to look at Lexa — really look — and the words slip out before she can lose her nerve.
"There's a weapon in this tower. Hidden. Kept by someone who wants to protect you so badly they'll kill you by accident."
She turns to Titus, who stands frozen, his expression carved from granite. "Show them," Kira whispers. "Show them you have nothing to hide."
Lexa's eyes sharpen to a dagger's point. "Titus?"
He doesn't move. His hands flex once, twice — and then he inclines his head, ever so slightly.
"As Heda commands."
Kira stands in the small, dim chamber she once saw only on a screen. It feels smaller now — the stone walls close, the rugs threadbare underfoot. The Flamekeeper's hidden sanctuary, where he performs the ritual of ascension, where the legacy of Commanders lives and dies.
A single chest sits under the altar — rough iron, simple. Titus kneels beside it, fingers brushing the lock. The room is so quiet Kira can hear her own pulse in her ears.
Lexa stands behind him, flanked by Indra and two guards. Kira lurks at Lexa's shoulder, close enough that she feels the subtle tremor of the Commander's breath.
Titus glances over his shoulder — not at Kira, but at Lexa.
"You do not understand what you risk," he says, his voice low. "This is a relic of the Sky People. A poison."
Lexa's tone could frost the air. "Open it."
He sighs — a sound like an old door groaning on its hinges — and lifts the lid. Inside, wrapped in oilskin, lies a gun.
Kira's stomach twists. It's one thing to know it's there — another to see it gleaming in the gloom, all cold metal and violence. Lexa stares down at it, her eyes unreadable.
"How did you get this?" she asks.
Titus's fingers tremble on the weapon's grip. "It was taken from a Sky Person's corpse. Kept — to protect you, Heda. When the alliance fails — when Skaikru betrays us, as they always do — I would have a weapon to end their traitor leader."
Lexa's eyes flick to Kira — just for a heartbeat. Then back to Titus.
"And you would decide this alone?" she asks, her voice a blade's edge.
Titus lifts his gaze to her — for the first time, he looks old. So terribly old.
"I have always done what is needed."
Lexa holds his eyes. "And now?"
He bows his head. His voice is a whisper. "And now I see what must be done."
The guards move forward at Lexa's nod. Titus doesn't struggle when they take the weapon. He doesn't fight when they escort him from the chamber.
But his eyes find Kira's, dark and bottomless. This is not over, they promise. You have only delayed what must be.
When they return to Lexa's private quarters, it's nearly dawn. Snow drifts past the windows in thin curtains. Kira stands in the flickering candlelight, Lexa pacing before the hearth like a caged cat.
"You did what you had to," Kira says softly.
Lexa stops, turns on her heel. "I did what you pushed me to do."
There's no anger in her voice — not exactly. Just a raw edge, something fragile beneath the iron.
Kira steps closer. "You knew he was dangerous. You just didn't want to see it."
Lexa's eyes flash. "Titus raised me from a child. He taught me to fight. To rule. To kill. He has given me everything — and now he would take everything from me."
She scrubs a hand over her eyes. Kira can see it — the grief she won't name. The loss hidden under layers of command and obligation.
Kira reaches out before she can think better of it, fingers brushing Lexa's forearm. Warm skin under leather bracer, muscle coiled like steel.
"He's not gone," Kira says gently. "But now he can't hurt you. Or Clarke."
Lexa's eyes snap up. "You speak of Clarke so easily."
Kira holds her gaze. "You love her."
A breath — a laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Love is weakness."
"Then I'm weak too."
Lexa's hand catches her wrist — a vice that's surprisingly tender. Kira feels the heat radiating from her, the pulse beating fast under skin.
"You are dangerous," Lexa whispers.
Kira's mouth quirks. "So are you."
Their faces are so close now — too close. Kira can see the faint shadow of a scar just under Lexa's jaw, the gold flecks in green eyes that never blink.
She wants to close the gap. To taste what she's watched only through glass. But she doesn't. Not yet.
Lexa lets her go. Steps back.
"Get some rest," Lexa says, her voice a hush. "Tomorrow the ambassadors convene. You'll stand at my side."
Kira tries to keep her voice steady. "What about Titus?"
Lexa's eyes darken. "He will remain Flamekeeper. For now. To remove him would fracture the coalition more surely than any bullet."
Kira nods, the weight of it pressing on her ribs. Nothing is simple here — every victory a crack in the foundation.
As she turns to go, Lexa calls her back.
"Kira."
She pauses. Lexa's eyes catch the firelight — burning bright, burning hers.
"Don't lie to me," Lexa says, soft as a blade in the dark. "About what you see. About what you want."
Kira's throat goes dry. "I won't."
Lexa's mouth lifts — not quite a smile. "Good."
She closes the distance then — one step, two — so close Kira can taste the air between them. Lexa's fingers brush her jaw, a touch so brief it might be a promise or a threat.
And then she's gone — a ghost in the shadows of her own kingdom, leaving Kira standing there with her heart pounding, her mouth dry, and a hundred futures burning behind her eyes.
Kira slips back to her small room just before dawn. She doesn't sleep. She lies awake, eyes wide, staring at the cracked ceiling, replaying every heartbeat of that touch.
She saved Lexa today. But the war is far from over — and her own heart is now a battlefield too.
ADVANCED CHAPTERS:
patreon.com/LazyKy