A/N - Okay, so I don't really like writing proposal fics, but I wanted to get this one out of the way. This is what I get for always jumping in for all with challenges.
"Orla, wait." Stewart tugged her hand gently, turning her to face him.
"We need to pack, Stewart. Can't you talk while we walk?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the castle.
"It won't take long to pack," he said, drawing her attention away from the school.
"I suppose we could watch the sunset," she said, a small smile beginning to form. He glanced behind him briefly, noticing the sky beginning to turn shades of orange.
"Orla," he said, still holding her hand. Slowly, keeping eye contact, he lowered himself to one knee. "Orla, I know we're young-"
"That's how you're gonna start?" she interrupted, looking more amused than annoyed.
"Orla!"
"Right. Sorry," she said. "Continue."
"I know we're young, and we have our whole lives ahead of us," he began.
"This is sounding terribly cliche," she said.
"Orla, you're ruining it!"
"Sorry, sorry. Propose away." She gestured for him to continue with her free hand.
"Wait… you think I'm asking you to marry me?" he asked, expression skeptical. There was a pause, then, her expression growing doubtful.
"Aren't you?"
"Of course I am," he said, grinning widely. "Why else would I be kneeling in the grass? It rained this afternoon."
"Well you chose here," she said.
"I thought it might be romantic, but you were all for ruining that."
"Oh. Sorry," she said, looking slightly sheepish.
"Stop apologising, I'm trying to propose here."
"Well, get on with is," she said.
"Orla, will you-"
"No," she interrupted. "Do the speech."
"I thought you said it was cliche?"
"I want the speech." Her tone was petulant, but he could see her eyes crinkling with a barely restrained smile.
"Right, okay, er…"
"From the beginning." He rolled his eyes, before starting over.
"Orla. I know we're young, and have our whole lives ahead of us, but I honestly can't imagine spending it with anyone else. I don't want to. You were there with me through the mess that was our first four years at school, when we were trying to learn while there was a war literally at our doorstep and people were disappearing daily.
"You were the one I could always turn to, supporting and protecting me - and I hope I did the same for you - you were the best defence I-"
"You know there's a word for that, right?" she interrupted once again.
"Orla!"
"Yes."
"Let me finish," he said, exasperated.
"No. Yes."
"Wh- Oh."
"Oh," she repeated pulling him to his feet.
"Well… thanks," he said, ignoring her eye roll and leaning down to press their lips together.
"It's bastion," she said once they'd pulled apart.
"What?"
"The word. It's bastion."