Author: Triane

Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else. Even more so now, that we're into movie territory - I've done what I could to gloss over using the actual dialogue, but if you recognize dialogue or action, its because it's. Not. Mine.

Summary: It's not all bad.

Like that first night years before, Dagonet and Iona wandered around the fort, hand in hand. Too melancholy still about the events of the day to join the rest in the tavern, they opted to roam, silently, through the darkness. Eventually finding themselves at the top of the wall, Dagonet leaned against the parapet with Iona nestled against him, both gazing out onto the plain just north of the fort.

This hasn't been the best of days. Dagonet's words from earlier echoed in Iona's mind and she sighed a quiet laugh. With her head tucked under Dagonet's chin, she could feel him look down at her and press a kiss into her hair, so she spoke softly.

"Seeing Saxons... a perverted bishop... discovering I'm barren... that's more bad news than some people get in their entire lives. We got it all in one day." Dagonet nodded, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"It is, however, our last bad day." Iona smiled, but she could not quite bring herself to agree. Dagonet rubbed slow circles into her back, his voice gentle.

"Besides, love. We don't know that you're barren. It takes two to make a baby, and it could be me." Iona tipped her head back in shock to look up at him, watching his eyes glint in the torchlight. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment like a fish before she managed to produce any noise.

"How... what a..." What a thoroughly modern thing to say. Finally she just smiled and stretched to press a kiss to his lips.

"You'll never stop surprising me, will you?" Dagonet smiled and kissed her again.

"Not if you don't." Lost in the love he saw in her eyes, Dagonet wrapped one arm around Iona, holding the back of her head with his other hand and claiming her mouth with a passionate kiss. Iona moaned and pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and drinking in his kiss like she was dying of thirst.

They broke apart for air, breathing rapidly, their foreheads pressed together. Dagonet's voice was hoarse.

"Stable?" Iona nodded.

"Stable." She turned towards the stairs, her hand immediately flying to her heart and a startled squawk flying from her mouth.

"Tristan!" As usual, the silent scout was standing with an inscrutable expression on his face. Dagonet groaned.

"Must you always do that?" One dark eyebrow rose.

"Must you?" Dagonet just grinned, unashamed, while Iona sighed in exasperation, crossed her arms, and leaned back against Dagonet's chest. Tristan just shrugged.

"My mother didn't bear her children until she put down her sword. After she stopped thinking she could." Without another word he turned and descended as silently as he had appeared, leaving Iona with a shocked expression and Dagonet with a bemused smile.

He chuckled softly, shook his head, then bent to press his lips against Iona's neck, hands roaming over her body, ever mindful to keep his touch gentle. Iona moaned, her head tipping back onto Dagonet's shoulder. Her voice was breathless.

"Do you... think he might... be right?" She could feel Dagonet's groan vibrate against her back as he looped an arm around her to pull her hips more securely against his, while his tongue did... something... to her earlobe. His voice was a growl.

"He usually is." Iona reached to grasp the back of his neck, guiding his mouth to hers for a hungry kiss while she slowly turned to press herself against him. Dagonet groaned against her mouth and reached down to slid his hands down her thighs, lifting her and hitching her legs around his waist. His voice was breathless.

"Stable?" Iona nodded, gasping.

"Stable."