The sunlight filtered through the cloth-draped windows of Lexa’s chambers, casting a soft gold glow across the stone walls and tangled bedding.

For once, there was no knock at the door. No envoy waiting. No urgent message from Indra or political crisis on the horizon.

Just breath. Just warmth. Just you, still half-asleep beside her, their hair messy, one arm draped loosely across Lexa’s waist.

Lexa had woken first, she always did, but for once, she didn’t move. She simply watched them.

She noticed the little things: the way your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of peace, the faint crease between their brows that remained even in sleep, the way their body curved naturally toward hers like they’d been made to fit.