"We who are about to die hope our MechTechs get paid overtime" - common aphorism among Solaris gladiators.
Solaris City, Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth
March 11th, 2966
The first time it had happened hadn't been a dramatically planned moment. It had, in fact, been on one of the occasions Cian had brought Inaya a cup of coffee while she was working late in the MechBay. She had been ironing out a fault in the internal sensors of El Cid's ancient Battle Computer. Somewhere along the countless nodes and branching paths that fed data to the BC, it was saying a section of the right arm's armor had been breached, but the arnor was intact.
Cian had arrived, handing her the coffee. Inaya had launched into one of her extended explanations about what was going on with whatever 'Mech she happened to be working on. Cian had settled into the pilot's chair to listen, as he often did. Inaya had, after some time, got up and sat in his lap to keep talking, which was a spontaneous first in and of itself.
One thing had led to another.
By the end, the compartment was shut and sealed. Inaya had been lying atop the sleeping bag from El Cid's survival kit, clothes piled to one side, the tapestry of bright tattoos across her body on full display, hair splayed around her head in a crimson halo. The sight of her beckoning him over had driven Cian into a state of mind he'd never experienced before, a new level of desire that danced along the border of madness.
That had been two months ago. Though they didn't liaison in El Cid's cockpit anymore, for obvious reasons, late night encounters in his or her room became commonplace.
The cots aboard the Bardiche weren't exactly spacious. One of them had to essentially be draped over the other for them to both sleep there. They usually only did so when exhaustion knocked them both out for one reason or another. So when Cian awoke far enough away from Inaya to not be touching her, he experienced several moments of confusion. The unfamiliar feeling of the mattress beneath him and blankets on top of him added to that confusion.
Right. They weren't on the ship. They'd spent the previous day checking a couple of bookstores in Solaris City, getting dinner, then going for drinks at an underground bar that hosted metal shows. The evening had ended at a hotel that was far nicer than anywhere Cian had ever stayed before, furnished with real wooden furniture and brass fixtures on everything.
Feeling content down to his bones, Cian squirmed closer to Inaya and threw an arm over her. She made a happy noise deep in her throat, snuggling into Cian, but remained asleep. Cian fell asleep once more shortly thereafter. They didn't have anywhere to be until the next day.
Some time later, Cian woke up again, finding himself alone in the bed. His eyes fluttered open, and his hand felt around in the now cool spot where his girlfriend had been lying.
A smell. That was the main thing that had woken him up. Coffee. The room smelled like coffee.
Drawing in a breath, Cian slowly pushed himself up in bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning. As he slowly came to full wakefulness, he peered around the opulent room. To his right, he saw crimson. There was Inaya standing in the room's kitchenette, tilting a steaming pot of coffee into a second ceramic mug. She walked into view, revealing she was wearing only Cian's sweater from the previous day and lace underwear. Given she was both taller and more muscular than him, it ended up being form-fitting rather than oversized as such an arrangement usually stereotyped. Her hair was still messy from sleep, as well. Cian hadn't thought he could find her anymore lovely, and yet, here he was.
"What's that look for?" Inaya asked, her already smokey voice even more rough from sleep.
"Was just thinking how you're the most beautiful woman in the Inner Sphere, is all." Cian replied.
Inaya rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile as she looked away and held out one of the coffee mugs. "Laying it on awfully thick first thing in the morning."
"Should I stop?" Cian asked as he accepted the mug.
"Not if you know what's good for you." Inaya said. She sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively sipping her coffee.
"What should I say next? That you're the Arwen to my Aragorn?" Cian suggested. He'd been reading "The Lord of the Rings" at Inaya's recommendation. It was…well, it was kind of boring, honestly, but when she'd explained it was essentially the foundation for fantasy fiction as anyone knew it, Cian managed to look at it from a history lover's perspective and find a different kind of enjoyment.
A scoff from Inaya. "Even for me, that one's a little much", she said with a snicker.
"Fair." Cian said. The coffee was still piping hot, so he set it on the nightstand to cool. Letting out another yawn, Cian scooted himself to the edge of the bed beside Inaya, reaching down and picking up his prosthetic leg, beginning the process of locking it into place.
"Does it ever bother you?" Inaya asked, looking at the prosthetic.
"In what way?" Cian answered with his own question, knowing what she meant. He was surprised she hadn't asked before. Maybe Inaya had thought she was being polite.
"In any way, really." Inaya said.
Cian elaborated. "I'll give the FWLM one thing. They pulled out all the stops giving me good replacements. Once I got used to them, I was almost back to full functionality. I'm not self-conscious about having fake limbs or a fake eye. There's…god, who knows how many thousands of people out there just like me that the Succession Wars did this kind of thing to. My arm doesn't usually bother me, but I'll admit my leg can hurt like a bitch after a long day, especially during a long deployment inside El Cid where I have to keep it attached so I'm ready at all times." A wan grin crossed his face. "though, not gonna lie, having to go through all this just to get up and take a piss doesn't exactly bring me joy."
He was understating things, as he had a bad habit of doing; the perennial desire to not bring others down with his troubles. Every time he had to attach his limbs, he had to be reminded of the Shame of Sherbrooke, and the near death experience he'd gone through there. Cian would never be whole again, no matter how much technology might be reclaimed by some miracle. But, this was their shore leave, their first long outing together as an official couple. Cian had no desire to spoil it by dredging up the darkness of the past.
Focused on getting his leg attached as he was, Cian didn't register the fact that Inaya had leaned over to set her coffee on the floor until she had scooted over to wrap him in her arms.
"Wha-...?" Cian started to say.
"I'm sorry you have to live through this." She whispered.
"It's…it's alright…", Cian said.
"It doesn't have to be." Inaya said, her grip around him firming.
It's fine if you're not fine. Cian remembered those words from her, too. A crack formed in a mental wall Cian hadn't even realized he'd put up. After living with his prosthetics for so long, Cian had convinced himself they didn't bother him anymore out of sheer necessity. Maybe this was Inaya's MechTech brain at work; a keen understanding of pinpointing the problem in a system so it could be fixed.
The tears were rolling down Cian's cheeks before he realized it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will them not to fall, but it was a futile effort. Cian put his arm around Inaya, hand bunching in the sweater she wore.
"I'm…sorry…" Cian said by reflex.
"Shhh." Inaya shushed him, hand stroking his back. "Please, Cian. I'm here for you. Never apologize for this." Her voice hitched, sounding uneven, as if she was crying, too.
A string of emotions rose and fell. Shame for his weakness bled into a sudden, irrational anger that Inaya would strike where he was most vulnerable. But that died away, too, replaced by bitter, cold sadness. He'd gone through it all alone. He'd been just one more maimed soldier. His parents were dead, his comrades in the 17th were gone, there'd been no one to help him through it. And even when his father had been alive, he'd never been any good to show Cian how to deal with this. Svik had done his best when Cian came home, but there was only so much the man could do at the time.
Sniffling quietly, Cian folded in on himself, curling up in Inaya's arms The MechTech's arms encompassed him. Cian wept, try as he might to rein it in. The cracked wall was broken open and a decade of pain flooded out. He clung to Inaya as a drowning man would cling to flotsam. More than once, he had to resist the instinct to apologize more.
After some time, the tears stopped falling, and Cian felt better, if a little emptied out. He leaned away, catching his breath.
"Better?" Inaya asked. She reached up and dried his cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. Well, his sweater, but he suspected this was part of that "boyfriend tax" he'd heard jokes about.
"Yeah…" Cian murmured. Inaya's embrace felt like it was the safest place in the entire Inner Sphere. He didn't want to leave it.
"Good." Inaya said. She kissed him on top of the head. "I'm sorry if I pushed too hard."
"No. No, I think I needed that." Cian admitted.
"We all do, every now and again." Inaya said. She gave him another squeeze, then released him. "I know we had plans today, but we can stay in if you're not feeling up to it?"
"I'll be ok." Cian said, quickly adding, "and I'm not just saying that."
"You promise?" Inaya asked.
"I promise." Cian said, and he meant it.
"Alright. Good." Inaya gave him a peck on the cheek, then grabbed her coffee and drank from it. "I'm going to go use all the hot water", she said, standing up and started padding towards the bathroom.
"Pretty much every shower aboard ship is cold, anyway, so that's nothing new." Cian said with a shrug, picking up his own coffee mug.
Inaya paused in the bathroom door, looking back at him.
"What?" Cian asked.
"You're showering with me." Inaya said bluntly. It sounded like a command, but Cian knew he could say no, if he wanted to. For reasons plain as an Atlas dancing a polka, he didn't want to say no.
"Yeah. Yeah, I am." He declared, draining half his mug. Then he stood up and followed after her.
March 12th, 2966
On a conceptual level, Cian knew it was relatively common for mercs to participate in arena circuit fights. He sure as hell never expected he'd be taking part in one of them. In spite of the danger, Cian was excited. It was no pay-per-view special, but he was here, on Solaris, about to test his skills before the crowds
"MechFreaks! Autocannon Crazies! Missile Madlings! Laser Lovers! WwwwELCOME to Heavy! Metal! HEEAAT!" The smooth baritone of the event's announcer filtered through Cian's comms. "As always, I am your master of ceremonies, your purveyor of projectiles, Killian Castor! We have a quite the killer cavalcade collected for you; two first time merc outfits ready to make their Heavy Metal marks on the 'Mech circuit, Heavy Lance against Heavy Lance!"
"'Purveyor of projectiles?'" Cian repeated with a grimace.
"I like a good alliteration." Zahir said.
"I don't have much choice." Vishali added.
Cian wondered what she meant, then realized, saying under his breath, "Vishali Varma-Neophytos of Valdr's Varangians. Huh."
Iron Lance was gathered behind a steel hangar door, surrounded by concrete and overhead ductwork. Part of the match's structure was they didn't know what the arena's layout was going to be, nor who they were fighting. It was, theoretically, supposed to be as friendly a match as live 'Mech combat could be; no intentionally aiming for the cockpit. Still, Cian intended to treat this like it was going to be as deadly as any other combat. He couldn't imagine how they'd even regulate whether a hit to a 'Mech's head was intentional or not.
"On one side, we have a storied merc command, hailing from the Rasalhague Military District of the Draconis Combine, forged in the fires of the First Succession War: Valdrrrr's Varangiaaaaans!" Killian Castor introduced.
A pause. Cian couldn't hear the cheers meant to fill it. The crowd would be shielded behind heavily reinforced polymer not unlike a BattleMech's cockpit canopy.
"And on the other side, a band of brothers, the bane of Bandits, born of House Davion's Outer March during the Second Succession War…"
"Wait. No." Vishali said
"No fucking way…" Zahir said at the same time.
"What?" Cian asked.
"...I give you; Asheerrr's KNIGHTS!" Killian roared.
Cian felt his blood go cold. Asher's Knights? The same assholes they'd brawled with on Galatea?
"What are the odds of that?" Cian asked no one in particular.
"Bad enough that I'm suspecting someone got paid off." Vishali said. "Doesn't change what we're here to do. It's us or them. Just don't expect discretion on where they're aiming."
"On that, I can finally be in agreement with these bastards." Zahir said.
"The match goes until only one team is left standing. MechWarriors! The battle begins in three! Two! One! NOW!"
The doors in front of Iron Lance began to grind apart. Cian practically felt El Cid come to life around him. No matter who was across from him, this was what Cian was born to do.
The doors opened to reveal an arena that sloped upward to a central hill. Shipping containers had been stacked into impromptu towers and walls, and for a detached moment Cian wondered how many C-Bills the coordinators of the arena fights spent on shipping containers alone every year. There was a lane through the containers leading straight to the top of the hill; a chance to get the lay of the land and elevation on the enemy, or a tempting deceit to leave a MechWarrior exposed?
"What's the plan, Iron One?" Cian asked. The Knights were not in view.
"Stay close and don't die." Vishali said, scanning the arena with Mastani's arms. "This is as new to me as it is to you."
"Right." Cian said. He guided El Cid to place the Black Knight between the rest of his lance and the hill. There was a sensor scrambler over the arena, keeping combatants from tracking each other or getting lock-ons without line of sight. That was fine with Cian. Iron Lance almost entirely used direct-fire weapons, save for Konomi's LRMs. The arena was not large by 'Mech standards, only about two-hundred meters across. It wasn't quite point-blank, but were it not for the hill and the shipping containers, an all out slugging match would be taking place.
"The Knights went through the trouble to set this up. They want blood. I think they'll come to us." Konomi reasoned.
"I can relate on part of that." Zahir growled.
"Good thinking, Two. We'll start with that, then. Form up around Iron Three and stick to the perimeter for now. Fuck entertaining the crowd, we're here to win." Vishali said.
Cian turned El Cid's torso to face the hill as Iron Lance began walking around the perimeter. He was on the arc of a semi circle facing it. Konomi was to his left, Vishali his right, Zahir behind. Konomi was on the leading edge of their advance, the swift Dragon ready to take off at a moment's notice.
Cian saw movement up the hill. He fired an L laser at it, not wanting to commit to an uncertain target, he only caught a brief view of blue-painted armor between two tall stacks of shipping containers. The laser superheated orange streaks into the obstacles.
"Iron Four?" Vishali asked.
"Didn't get a clear view or shot." Cian said. "I think they know what we're doing and trying to surround us."
"That's pretty likely." Vishali agreed. "If I'm remembering the Heavy line-up of the Knights, we're better off in the open with room to maneuver."
"Contact front! Orion!" Konomi informed them. Sure enough, one of the seventy-five ton 'Mechs was emerging from cover. Easily one of the most stoutly armored Heavy 'Mechs, the Orion could take hit after hit and keep going.
Then Cian saw two more contacts, jump jets carrying them over the shipping containers; a Quickdraw and a Guillotine. The former was lightly armored for a Heavy 'Mech, but fast and versatile. The latter was as well-armored as El Cid, but faster on the ground, and with the jump jets to give it more mobility. Cian chose the Quickdraw with two L lasers, a fierce grin crossing his face as the Quick's downward arc from its jump allow the beams to rake up its front. Both the jetting 'Mechs let loose with lasers and missiles, and the arena became a symphony of deafening sound as Iron Lance fired in every direction at their incoming foes. As Cian watched, Zahir managed to tag the Guillotine several times with autocannon fire.
Cian had moved El Cid just in time, most of the lasers and missiles from the jumping 'Mechs striking the Black Knight instead of Zahir's Jager, which possessed only a miserly six tons of armor. Vishali was shouting about contact behind them, and whoever it was, she traded PPC fire with them.
Through he hadn't fought together with them very much on the grand scheme, Cian had been through hours of SimPod training with them and knew how he should react. He charged up the hill, arm lasers hitting the Guillotine, the rest going for the Quickdraw. Zahir continued to fire past Cian, AC shells exploding off the Guillotine's frame. Cian's heat was rapidly rising, fire coming in from both the Heavies on the hill, but he had to move forward. He'd have to trust that Konomi could hold the Orion's attention and that Vishali could successfully trade fire with the 'Mech that had come up behind them; which turned out to be a Warhammer covered in Celtic knotwork in Knight colors.
There were already armor alerts as Cian was focused by two enemy 'Mechs, but again, this was the point. Draw the ire of two enemy BattleMechs, let Zahir's ACs fly free, maybe force one of the enemy to jump away as he closed. He kept going, careless of the Guillotine's lasers that crackled against El Cid.
Azure, viridian, crimson; three colors of laser burned from El Cid painting the Guillotine with light. A heat alarm started beeping in Cian's cockpit and he knew he had to lay off, but the Guillotine was starting to feel it, its left arm gone, destroying the L laser that was its primary weapon. Now it did jump back, out of the line of fire, leaving Cian to face the Quickdraw. Unfortunately, his angle of approach meant he was blocking Zahir's line of fire.
"Iron Four, switching to help Two." Zahir informed him.
"Copy, Three!" Cian replied, unintentionally shouting.
The Quickdraw hammered El Cid with two of its M lasers and an SRM-4. Something broke in the Black Knight's left arm, the limb seizing, the M laser on it no longer responding. El Cid's torso structure was also almost exposed, the Quickdraw gambling on being able to kill El Cid before the Knight's superior firepower won out. Had Cian planned on a shooting match, it might have won.
The Quickdraw 'Mech was special for two things. One was the fact that its ankle actuators were exceptionally flexible, allowing the 'Mech to climb steeper gradients than any other Heavy out there. Combined with its respectable ground speed and jump jets, it made for an impressively mobile Heavy BattleMech.
The second thing was the fact that those actuators were notoriously fragile.
Cian saw the Quickdraw's jump jets flare as its MechWarrior figured out what Cian was doing. Too late. El Cid's left foot lashed out in a kick, crunching into the Quickdraw's ankle, causing myomer to snap and shrapnel to spray across the arena floor. The Quick did manage to jump away, but when it hit the ground the damaged ankle gave way with a shriek. The foot was hurled away from the 'Mech with enough force to embed itself in a shipping container. Taking a trio of hobbling steps to try to right itself, the Quickdraw finally toppled, falling through one of the towers of containers.
BOOM
Thunder rolled through El Cid as the Guillotine's SRM-6 blasted away the remaining armor on the Knight's center torso. Cian turned, returning fire on the Guillotine before it could retreat from the cover it had just popped out of, managing to tag the Guillotine but not decisively. Cian grit his teeth, sweat running down his neck and back, his cockpit practically shimmering from the heat the lasers were building up.
Cian thought hard, then made a call, turning El Cid again, presenting the Black Knight's right side and raising its right arm like a gunfighter of ancient Terra might with a six-shooter. He was depriving himself of most of his weapons, but another good hit or two into his CT would see El Cid cored.
"If anyone can spare a gun or two…" Cian started to say.
All three of his Lancemates responded at pretty much the same time.
"Bit busy…" Vishali said.
"I'd love to, but…" Zahir said.
"Too engaged…" Konomi said.
The Guillotine jumped into view, pounding El Cid with an Alpha Strike from its remaining weapons. Cian's narrow profile ended up being the right call, with the missiles flitting past where his left torso would have been, the lasers striking a right arm, leg, and head that were relatively unhurt compared to the rest of the 'Mech. Cian fired the lasers on El Cid's right arm, one Large, one Medium, and the beams scoured across a torso already damaged by both El Cid's lasers and Zahir's ACs. The Guillotine's right torso was ruined, and in a conflagration the remaining missiles within its went off, blasting away the Guillotine's arm.
In a moment straight out of a horror film, Cian was close enough to see the blood of the MechWarrior within the Guillotine spray across the inside of the canopy as the missiles cooked off. That was the risk when you strapped on a Neurohelm and powered up the reactor, but that didn't mean Cian enjoyed seeing it.
Cian didn't have time to process that kill. He had to help his Lancemates…
BOOM
Just as Cian turned to help the rest of Iron, a PPC from the 'Mech Vishali had been dueling struck El Cid dead center.
The Black Knight's reactor was damaged, alarms shrieking as systems were scrambled by the PPC from the inside. Cian hammered the emergency shutdown button, unwilling to risk El Cid going critical from another hit. By doing that instead of punching out, Cian missed his chance to eject. He felt the dreadful, gut lurching sensation of El Cid pitching over backwards, bracing himself as best he could in his harness. With bone jarring force, El Cid hit the arena floor. Cian screamed in pain as his prosthetic arm was yanked away from the stump.
All Cian could do was lie there on the ground, waiting for the match to end. If the Warhammer had hit him, that probably meant Vishali had gone down. It would have taken a skilled MechWarrior to best the Major. Maybe it had been Major Keldair himself?
The match had been a close one. In the end, only Zahir and Konomi were left standing, having managed to overwhelm the heavily armored Orion just in time to turn on the Warhammer, which Vishali had already weakened. All four Varangian 'Mechs were badly damaged, but unlike the Knights, prize money and salvage shares would be paying for repairs.
Lying back in his harness, waiting for the arena's rescue teams to come pull him out of his 'Mech, Cian decided that maybe he'd stick to watching arena matches from now on.
March 14th, 2966
Inaya had developed a habit, Cian noted. Her normally very dominant and blunt personality tended to take a back seat for a day or two after Cian came back from being in the field, especially if Cian had been injured in the process. When Cian had boarded the Bardiche at the speed of an exhausted trudge, carrying his prosthetic arm in his flesh and blood hand, Inaya had first pulled him into a fierce hug, kissed his forehead, then immediately shifted into mother hen mode. Since only Iron Lance had participated in the fight, it meant her MechTechs and Astechs could focus all their efforts on just four 'Mechs instead of all of Jotunn Company. Of course, the Head MechTech couldn't keep away from the MechBay entirely, but Cian was surprised by how often she came back to check on him.
"I'm fine, Chief. I promise." Cian eventually assured her as she stood in the doorway of his billet, leaning in with her hands atop the doorframe.
"I know, Strider, I know. I just…", Inaya trailed off. She was wearing her work coveralls over a band t-shirt so faded that it was impossible to see who the shirt advertised. "...I worry about you. And I know Doc Sandra knows her shit. But you and Fish both got fucked up this time." She frowned, looking suddenly worried. "I'm not bothering you, am I? I'm sorry."
"What?" Cian asked, baffled by the question. He was in his bed, sitting with his back against the wall of the alcove that held it. Unable to think of what exactly to say to soothe her, Cian made a "come here" motion with his hand.
Inaya shuffled over, kneeling by the bed. Cian set down the book he was reading, gently putting his hand on the back of Inaya's head, bringing it toward him so he could plant a kiss on top of it. That done, he moved the hand to her cheek and looked her in the eyes. Inaya looked exhausted.
"You're fine. I promise." Cian said to her, thumb gently running along her cheek. "I'm only making sure you're not pulling yourself in too many directions at once, that's all. It makes me happy that you care enough about me to keep checking."
Inaya smiled at him, and far from the first time, Cian thought how lucky he was.
"I don't know. I guess…I don't want you to think I'm being clingy." Inaya muttered. She laid her head down on Cian's mattress. "I don't want to fuck this up."
Cian leaned on his elbow, running his fingers through Inaya's hair. She closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her.
"Look. If anyone's going to fuck this up, it's probably going to be me." Cian said.
"As long as you treat my books right, you won't." Inaya joked, giving him a little nudge.
Cian chuckled. He'd borrowed a book from her and bent the spine while reading it without thinking about it. It had been the cause of their first real disagreement, Cian not understanding what the big deal was, Inaya being very particular about her books. But, they'd talked through it, come to an understanding, and all was well.
"Duly noted." Cian replied, taking the fact they could joke about it as a good sign.
Inaya got up, closing the door to Cian's billet. She shed her coveralls, revealing a pair of jeans wore through at the knees and sat beside him on the bed. Inaya took Cian in her arms and held him close. Cian sank into the embrace. It made him feel safer than El Cid's twelve tons of armor plating.
Cian suddenly found himself waking up to someone knocking on his door. Beside him, Inaya stirred but remained asleep. They'd passed out still leaning against the wall. He checked his noteputer. A full hour had passed.
"Chief. Hey." Cian whispered, tapping her leg.
"Hm?" She breathed, beautiful hazel eyes fluttering open.
"Come in." Cian said towards the door.
The door slid open. It was Raleigh, one of the AsTechs.
"Lieutenant, have you seen…oh, you have, heh." The young AsTech said.
"Leigh. What is it?" Inaya asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
"Well, it's that damn left arm actuator on Mastani. It…", the youth launched into a string of words that made Cian's still sleep addled brain spin. Not that full wakefulness would have made it any easier for him to understand.
A deep sigh escaped Inaya. "Right, right. I'll be right there." The Head MechTech said.
"Thanks, Chief." Raleigh said, then hurried off.
Puffing out another breath, Inaya closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall. "No rest for the wicked."
"Can I do anything for you?" Cian asked.
"Yes." Inaya said, swinging her feet out, stepping into her coveralls and pulling them up. "You can keep resting. You did your part for the Varangians. Now it's time for me to do mine."
I think I love this woman. Cian thought. The words seemed to float up from deep within and threatened to spill out. He didn't know if he should say them yet. Was it too soon? Would Inaya even feel the same way?
"As you command, Chief." Cian said.
Inaya zipped up her coveralls, but she didn't move for several moments.
"Chief?" Cian asked.
"Fuck it", she murmured, facing him and kneeling down once again, but this time to kiss him so hard it almost hurt. Almost. After a moment she leaned back just enough to say, "I love you. Got it?"
"L-Loud and clear, Chief." Cian stammered.
She affixed him with a pointed look.
"What?" He asked.
"Do you feel the same way or did I just make an idiot out of myself?" Inaya demanded more than asked.
Right. Whoops.
"You know, I actually stopped myself from saying it less than a minute ago because I worried it was too soon for you." Cian admitted. This time he kissed her, following it with, "of course I love you, too."
"'Too soon.'" Inaya repeated with a snort, kissing him one final time before standing back up. "I think it was perfectly timed." She did her hair up into a bun. "Ok. I'll see you later. Don't plan on sleeping much."
With that, she left a blushing and wide-eyed Cian by himself.
When "later" arrived, Inaya passed out almost immediately and slept for twelve hours. Cian, admittedly a little disappointed, was mostly just happy to see her getting some rest.
All was well. The Varangians left Solaris, heading for their next battlefield.