The 100: Ashes to Dawn

The knock at her door comes before dawn.

Kira jerks awake, the cold air of Polis biting at the sweat cooling on her skin. Her dreams still cling to her — fragments of warmth, Lexa's mouth on hers, the ghost of a promise in that kiss — but reality cuts deeper than any fantasy.

She pulls herself up from the pile of blankets. Her chamber is little more than a storage room they cleared for her: stone walls, a small hearth that barely warms the air, and a single battered chest that holds the clothes Indra found her. Still, it's hers — more hers than the tiny dorm she'd left behind, more real than anything she's ever had.

Another knock — sharper this time. Not Lexa. Not Indra. Someone who doesn't care if they wake her with bruises under her eyes.

"Enter," she calls, voice still hoarse with sleep.

The door creaks open. Titus stands there, pale in the torchlight. He's holding a clay pot, steam rising from its spout. For a heartbeat, they stare at each other — the man who nearly killed her once, and the woman he still wishes he could send back to the sky.

"Tea," he says, his voice like gravel. "For your throat."

Kira raises an eyebrow. "Poisoned?"

Titus doesn't flinch. He steps inside, sets the pot on her crude table. "I'm not your enemy."

She snorts. "You nearly made me bleed out on your temple floor."

"That was before you kissed the Commander in front of every shadow that watches these walls."

The words drop like stones in a pond — heavy, sending ripples through the air. Kira crosses her arms over her chest, the blanket slipping from her shoulders.

"It was not in front of anyone," she says, more softly than she means to. "You spy on her?"

"I guard her." His eyes flash with something that might be guilt — or maybe that's just what she wants to see. "You think this will end in anything but ruin?"

Kira stalks past him, pours herself a cup of the bitter tea. She sips it — hot enough to burn her tongue — and meets his gaze head-on.

"You want her alone," she says. "Untouched. Safe. But she's not safe, Titus. She never was. And if you think I'm the threat —"

"You are the threat!" His voice cracks like a whip. He strides closer, crowding her against the table. "She is Heda. She carries the flame of the commanders before her. She is not meant for this…this weakness you bring. This distraction."

Kira lets out a low laugh — humorless, sharp as a blade. "You think love is weakness? You think what I feel for her makes me want to see her fall? I'm here to keep her alive."

"Love has no place here."

She shoves him back. "Funny. I think she'd disagree."

They stand there, a breath apart. The tension vibrates in the small room — two people orbiting the same star, both convinced the other will snuff it out.

Finally, Titus breaks. He looks away, breathes out slowly. "The coalition will fracture if they sense you have too much sway. You know this."

"Then they won't know," Kira says. "Or they'll fear it enough not to test her."

Titus laughs — a dry, humorless bark. "You think fear keeps these clans in line? Fear is a candle in the wind. One blow from Azgeda, and this entire fragile balance burns."

Kira's hand trembles on the cup. She hates that he's right. Hates that under the layers of threat and warning, there's an ember of truth she can't ignore.

"If you want her strong," Titus says, softer now, "don't make her soft."

The door slams behind him before she can answer.

✦ ✦ ✦

When she steps into the council hall later that morning, the cold is worse. Wind howls through the cracks in the stone. A storm brews on the horizon — literal and otherwise.

Lexa stands at the window slit overlooking the courtyard, her silhouette cut from shadow and steel. The soft hush of her braids swaying is the only sound as Kira approaches.

"You didn't come to my quarters," Lexa says without turning.

Kira freezes. Her cheeks flush with memory — the heat of their kiss, the way Lexa's breath had tasted of something alive.

"You had business," Kira says. "And I had dreams."

Lexa does turn now, her eyes searching Kira's face. She reaches out — just enough to brush her thumb against Kira's jaw, so brief it feels imagined.

"You dreamed of me?"

Kira tries to laugh, but it's more like a sigh. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Lexa's mouth curls into a smile so small it almost breaks her heart. "What I want is…complicated."

Kira glances over her shoulder, checking for Titus, Indra, anyone who might see them like this. "You know he hates this."

"I know."

"And you'll keep doing it?"

"I'll keep you," Lexa says, like it's a promise written in blood.

The door creaks open. Indra enters, face carved from stone. Behind her, Eisa of Azgeda trails like a ghost, her eyes glittering like a wolf that smells fresh prey.

"Kira kom Skaikru," Eisa purrs. "May I speak with you alone?"

Lexa stiffens. "Anything you have to say, you say before your Heda."

But Kira lifts her chin. "It's fine. We'll walk."

Lexa's eyes dart to hers — a question and a threat all at once. Kira just nods.

Eisa leads her out into the courtyard, past guards who barely acknowledge them. The air outside bites through Kira's thin coat, but Eisa seems untouched by the cold, her fur cloak a swirl of silver and black.

"You play dangerous games," Eisa says once they're alone under the bare branches of a leafless tree. "Heda's shadow. Her lover. What do you think Azgeda sees when they look at you?"

Kira keeps her voice steady. "A girl who can't be bought. Or scared."

Eisa smiles, all teeth. "Wrong. They see a weakness. One they can snap like a twig when it suits us."

Kira steps closer, close enough to see the flecks of frost in Eisa's hair. "And what do you see?"

"A spark," Eisa says, tracing a gloved finger along Kira's shoulder as if brushing away snow. "A tiny flame hidden under Lexa's armor. If you burn, so does she."

Kira feels the threat coil around her like smoke. She refuses to look away. "Careful. You think you're the only one who knows how to set a fire?"

Eisa's laugh is cold and bright. "Let's hope you remember that when the storm comes."

She turns, her cloak swirling behind her like a banner of shadows. Kira stands there for a long time, listening to the branches creak overhead. The city feels too big, too old — a nest of knives and whispered betrayals.

She heads back inside, snow crunching under her boots. She doesn't look back.

✦ ✦ ✦

Hours later, she finds Lexa in the training yard, sword in hand. A circle of young warriors stands at a respectful distance, watching their Commander move through a series of strikes so fluid they look like water in motion.

Kira leans against a post, letting herself watch. This is Lexa unmasked: hair half-loose, sweat dripping from her brow, a snarl on her lips when her blade clashes with Indra's.

They break apart, panting. Indra's grin is fierce. "Again."

But Lexa lifts a hand. Her eyes find Kira. "Spar with me."

Indra arches an eyebrow but doesn't protest. She steps back, crossing her arms to watch.

Kira laughs, stepping into the ring. "You'll break me in two."

Lexa tosses her a wooden training blade. "Then learn to bend."

Their swords clash — clumsy on Kira's part, precise and teasing on Lexa's. Every time Kira thinks she's found an opening, Lexa pivots, her blade kissing Kira's throat with infuriating gentleness.

Around them, the young warriors whisper. Kira knows the message this sends — Lexa chooses to train her, to fight beside her, to claim her in more ways than one. It's an act of defiance. Or devotion. Or maybe both.

Finally, Lexa lunges. Kira twists out of the way — barely — and their bodies collide. They crash into the mud, wooden swords forgotten, breaths mingling in the cold air.

Lexa hovers above her, her hair falling like a curtain around them. She's laughing — a rare sound, low and rough and beautiful.

"You're learning," Lexa whispers.

Kira tries to shove her off. "You're impossible."

Lexa's lips brush her ear. "You love it."

Before Kira can answer, Indra barks, "Enough. If you wish to roll in the mud, do it in private."

Lexa pulls away, eyes dancing with something almost playful. She offers her hand. Kira takes it, feeling the strength in Lexa's grip pull her up — back into the whirlwind of knives and smoke that is Polis.

✦ ✦ ✦

That night, Kira doesn't sleep. She sits at her table, maps and scraps of paper spread before her — notes on the clan alliances, Azgeda's weaknesses, the routes she's overheard warriors discussing.

Every word is a thread she can tug, a knot she can twist before it tightens around Lexa's throat.

A knock. Softer this time. She opens the door to find Lexa there, hair unbound, cloak pulled tight against the cold.

"Come," Lexa says.

Kira hesitates — just for a moment — then lets herself be led through the silent corridors, up the winding stairs to Lexa's private chambers. A fire crackles in the hearth, the only light in the room.

Lexa closes the door behind them. She doesn't speak — just crosses to Kira, brushes her fingers along her jaw.

"I won't send you away," Lexa says. "No matter what they threaten."

Kira's breath catches. "I know."

Their mouths meet again — softer this time, a promise rather than a claim. Kira melts into her, lets Lexa's warmth chase away the chill that Polis breathes into her bones.

When they pull apart, Lexa presses her forehead to Kira's.

"Sleep here tonight," Lexa murmurs.

Kira wants to argue — wants to remind her what Titus said, what Eisa hinted at — but she's so tired of fighting the truth. She nods, and when Lexa leads her to the bed, they lie there fully clothed, wrapped in furs and each other.

Outside, the wind howls like a warning.

Inside, Kira whispers against Lexa's neck, "I won't let them take you from me."

Lexa's hand tangles in her hair. "Then fight beside me."

She will.

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