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--XXXX--
Mike's tent was silent, save for the crackle of a single tallow candle.
He sat on his cot, his hand pressed to his scarred cheek. His mind was stuck in a feedback loop, replaying that single moment.
The soft, brief pressure of her lips. The sound of her nervous laugh as she fled.
That... happened.
A slow, wide smile spread across his face. It felt... good. No. It felt... perfect. It felt real. This wasn't a game. This wasn't a show he was watching. He was here. He was living. That single, simple act had anchored him to this world more than any fight did in his last life.
His smile faltered, his thoughts, as they always did, running on a dozen parallel tracks.
The image of Lexa's bright, flushed face was suddenly, unexpectedly, replaced by another.
Anya.
His smile faded, replaced by a familiar, dull ache. He knew.
He was an assassin, a living weapon, and a master of observation. And he saw it, the change in the Chief of Trikru for two months.
He'd seen it. He'd seen it in the way her eyes, so hard and sharp when she was the Chief, would soften when he told one of his stupid, pre-apocalypse jokes. He'd seen it in the late-night strategy sessions, when she would let her guard down, her laughter a beautiful sound. He'd seen it on the patrol when she had, for the first time in her life, visibly relaxed, trusting him to be her shield.
He'd seen her watching him. He'd seen her watching him with Lexa.
He saw the tiny, almost invisible flicker of... something. A sadness, a longing, a flicker of pain in her eyes, snuffed out in a nanosecond, replaced by the iron mask of the Chief.
And he'd figured it out.
Anya was concerned about Lexa.
She saw Lexa, her second, her surrogate friend, finally healing from the trauma of Costia. She saw Lexa laughing, living, and finding a new connection. And Anya, the ultimate leader, had made a choice. She had taken her own feelings, whatever they were, and buried them. She had sacrificed her own heart for her Second's happiness.
The thought of it, of her quiet, powerful sacrifice, made his chest tighten.
How could this be possible? He... he cared for them both. Lexa was the fire, the "Lexi" who challenged him, who matched his energy, who had broken through his walls with her sheer, stubborn passion. But Anya... Anya was the mountain. She was the strength he respected, the pillar he admired, the woman he saw beneath the armor.
He wanted to be with both of them. He wanted to love them with everything he had. But he didn't know the rules. He didn't know the customs. How could he pursue one without breaking the other? How could he tell Anya he knew, without shattering the fragile peace she had built? He didn't want to break either of their hearts in the process. He was lost.
"Mikky?"
The voice from outside his tent flap was soft, hesitant.
Lexa.
His heart did a stupid, painful leap. He'd just been kissed, and now the kisser was back. His mind raced.
What do I say? Be cool. Be normal. What's normal?
He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to be level. "Enter!"
The flap pulled back, and Lexa stepped in. The panicked, blushing girl who had run from the clearing was gone. In her place was a composed, serious Lexa, but her eyes... her eyes were dancing. She had a small, mischievous smile on her face.
Before his mind could process what she was cooking, a second figure appeared from the darkness behind her.
Anya.
Mike's brain crashed.
He shot to his feet, his mouth falling open. "Chief? Lexa? What's... what's going on?"
Anya stepped forward, standing beside her Second. The Chief of Trikru, the unbending warrior... was visibly nervous. Her hands were clasped in front of her.
"Mike," Anya said, her voice quiet, but clear. "I... we... have something to say."
Oh, no, his mind screamed. No, no, no. They're here. They talked. Lexa told her.
"For two months," Anya began, her eyes locking on his, "you have been... a disruption." A small, real smile touched her lips. "A good one. You have challenged us. You have saved us. You have... changed this village. You have changed me."
She took a deep breath, and the nervousness was replaced by the honesty of a warrior.
"I have spent my entire life as a Chief. Nothing else. My heart, my blood, my body... it all belonged to Trikru. There was no... room... for Anya. I didn't even know who she was. Until you."
She gestured to the tent. "You sat here with me. You didn't want anything. You didn't fear me. You just... saw me. You made me laugh, you idiot. You made me feel... safe. You made me feel like... a woman."
His heart was hammering. He couldn't breathe.
"I... I have come to love you, Mike," she said, the words a raw, powerful confession. "And I was terrified of it. I saw you... with Lexa. I saw her healing. And I was... I was prepared to bury it. To let you go. A Chief's duty."
Lexa stepped forward, grabbing Anya's hand. "No. I wouldn't let her."
Anya looked at Lexa, then back at Mike. "So... we came up with a solution. Our customs... they allow for it. It is rare. But it is a warrior's right. A man or a woman... can take two partners. If he or she is strong enough to protect and provide for them both."
She turned back to him, and all the strength, all the iron, was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that shattered his heart. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
"Lexa... she... she kissed you. We... we know how you feel about her. But..." Her voice broke, just for a second. "Would you... could you... love me, too?"
The question hung in the silence.
Mike just stared at her. His mind, which had been frozen, was now processing the single most perfect, most impossible, most beautiful solution he could have ever imagined. They weren't asking him to choose.
They were... inviting him.
But his silence, his shock, stretched.
Anya's face began to crumple. She had misread it. He was a man from another world; their "custom" was a barbarian's plea. He was disgusted. He was going to say no.
"I..." she started to say, to pull back, to save herself. "It's alright if-"
He moved.
He crossed the tent in one stride and pulled Anya into a hug so tight it lifted her off her feet. He buried his face in her hair, his arms a steel-banded vice around her.
"You fool," he whispered, his voice thick, mirroring her own words from the command tent. "You magnificent, stubborn, beautiful fool. Of course I'll love you."
He pulled back, his hands framing her face, his golden eyes intense. "I knew," he said, his voice rough.
"I saw it, Anya. In your eyes. The way you looked at me. But... I didn't want to force it. I didn't know how. I thought... I thought I had to choose. And I... I couldn't."
He rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I should have been more forward. I should have... said something."
Anya just let out a sound, a choked sob that was half-laughter, and threw her arms around his neck, tears of pure, unadulterated happiness sliding down her cheeks.
"HEY!"
A small, powerful body slammed into their side, wrapping around both of them. Lexa had jumped in, her arms straining to encircle them. "You are not doing this without me! I saw him first!"
Anya laughed, a real, free laugh, and pulled Lexa into the embrace. The three of them stood in the middle of the tent, a tangle of arms and legs, a Chief, a Second, and their Idiot, all laughing and crying at once.
After a long minute, they finally separated, though Mike kept an arm around each of them. He was beaming, his face lit up with a joy that made his scars seem to vanish.
"So..." he said, his practical mind finally kicking back in. "This... 'fight.' This ceremony. When do we do this?"
Anya, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, looked up at him, her face radiant. "Tomorrow," she said, her voice filled with a joyful smile he had never heard before.
************************************************
The news didn't just spread. It exploded. It shot through Tonas like a lit fuse, a shockwave of pure, unadulterated gossip.
"DID YOU HEAR?!"
"NO! SHUT UP!"
"IT'S TRUE! ORON SAW THEM! HE'S TAKING BOTH OF THEM!"
"THE CHIEF?! AND LEXA?!"
"AT THE SAME TIME?!"
"BY THE COMMANDERS... THAT MAN... HE HAS BALLS OF STEAL!"
"I KNEW IT! I KNEW HE LIKED THE CHIEF! I TOLD YOU!"
Indra was in the middle of drilling recruits, screaming at a young boy who couldn't hold his shield straight, when a runner skidded to a halt, panting, and whispered the news in her ear.
Indra's face, a mask of permanent, battle-hardened fury, went utterly... blank. Her jaw, a thing that had never, in the memory of Trikru, been slack, dropped open. The recruit she had been yelling at fainted from sheer relief, and Indra didn't even notice.
Nyko, walking by, saw her expression. "What is it, Indra? Did Azgeda declare war? Did the Mountain Men finally show their faces?"
Indra turned to him, her voice a faint, hollow sound. "Mike. He... he is taking partners."
Nyko clapped her on the shoulder. "Ah, well, we all saw that coming with Lexa. It was only a matter of time-"
"No," Indra said, her eyes wide. "Partners. Plural."
Nyko stopped smiling. "...What?"
"He is taking Lexa," Indra said, her voice rising in disbelief. "And... and he is taking... Anya."
Nyko stared. His jaw dropped. A full five seconds of silence passed.
And then he ROARED with laughter. A great, booming, belly-laugh that echoed across the entire village. He slapped his knee, tears streaming from his eyes. "OF COURSE HE IS!" he howled. "THAT... THAT MAGNIFICENT BASTARD! OF COURSE HE IS!"
"But... but... both of them?" Indra stammered, her entire worldview short-circuiting. "Our... Our Chief?"
Just then, Lincoln walked up, a bundle of medicinal herbs in his arms.
"What's going on? Why is Nyko dying? What did I miss?"
Nyko, wiping a tear from his eye, managed to pull himself together.
"Lincoln, my boy... You are not going to believe this. Our Mikky... the Man from the Tomb... is about to fight Anya and Lexa... for the right... to marry them. At the same time."
Lincoln, the stoic, quiet warrior, just... blinked. The entire, carefully collected bundle of herbs slipped from his numb fingers and scattered in the dirt.
"He's... what?"
A Day Later
The entire village of Trikru was gathered. They ringed the central battle pit, their excited, shouting voices a deafening roar. Children sat on their parents' shoulders, warriors young and old stood with their arms crossed, and the elders watched with knowing smiles. This was not a fight. This was a celebration.
On one side of the ring stood Anya and Lexa. They were in full, formal combat gear. Their leathers were oiled, their furred cloaks were fastened, and their blades were drawn. They looked every inch the warrior-leaders they were: beautiful, deadly, and serious.
On the other side stood Mike.
He was in his full, blue-grey and burnt-orange combat suit. His katanas were strapped to his back, along with his sidearm at his thigh. He was a vision from another, more terrifying world, a god of war standing in a primitive ring. But he wore no mask. His face was open to all, and he was smiling.
Indra stood in the center, her arms raised for silence.
"People of Trikru!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the pit.
"Today, we are called to witness! A custom of our ancestors! A test of strength!"
The crowd roared.
"Mike, the Man from the Tomb, has asked for the hand of both Lexa, Second to the Chief... AND Anya, Chief of the Trikru!"
The explosion of sound was deafening.
"By our laws, he must prove his strength!" Indra yelled. "He must prove he is worthy to protect them! He must... fight them!"
She turned to the women, her expression one of utter, formal seriousness.
"Anya! Lexa! Are you ready?"
They both nodded, raising their blades, their eyes locked on Mike.
Indra turned to him. "Mike! Are you ready?"
He just grinned, the sun flashing off his golden eyes. He reached over his shoulder and, with a shing, drew one of his katanas.
"Then..." Indra raised her hand high. "LET THE TEST... BEGIN!"
--XXXX--