The grand throne room of Polis was in chaos. Shattered glass littered the floor, the air thick with tension and the scent of burning torches. Armed warriors from disillusioned clans encircled the room, their faces painted in war markings. At the center of it all, Lexa stood tall, her eyes scanning the scene with a Commander’s calm, even as her heart raced beneath the surface.

You knelt a few feet away, your hands bound behind your back, blood trickling from a cut on your temple. A blade rested dangerously close to your throat, held by one of the coup’s leaders, a warrior named Nira.

“You’ve betrayed us, Heda,”

Nira spat, her voice echoing through the chamber.

„Your infatuation with Skaikru has made you weak. The coalition deserves a leader who puts the clans first, not someone blinded by a foreigner’s whispers.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened, but her voice was steady as she replied.

“This coalition was built on unity, Nira. Your actions now threaten everything we’ve worked for.”

Nira sneered.

“Spare me your speeches. The clans have already decided. Either step down as Heda, or your precious Clarke dies here and now.”

„You think killing Clarke will give you power? That it will make the clans stronger?”

Lexa said, taking a step forward. The warriors tensed, but she didn’t falter.

“No. It will only show them that we are ruled by fear and hate. That is not strength. That is cowardice.”

Nira pressed the blade harder against your skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

„Don’t test me, Heda. Choose now.”

You seized the moment, your voice cutting through the tension.

“You think you’re saving your people, but all you’re doing is destroying the coalition. If you kill me, you’ll make Lexa a martyr. The clans will never follow.“

“Enough! If Lexa won’t choose, then I will make the choice for her!”

As Nira raised her blade, Lexa moved like a shadow, drawing her sword in one fluid motion. The blade flashed in the torchlight as she closed the distance between them in a heartbeat.