Author: Triane

Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else.

Summary: Dagonet takes stock, and has a suggestion.

Dagonet was the first to wake in the failing evening light, coming back into consciousness with the awareness that there was another body pressed up against him. His arms tightened automatically and he looked down to see Iona snuggled up to his chest and her legs snaked around his, with a slight pout on her lips and the barest frown creasing her forehead. He smiled down at her and smoothed out the lines with his thumb, smiling again when she murmured his name and buried her face in his neck, throwing an arm across his chest and holding him with a strength that belied her small size.

Dagonet could feel his heart almost beat out of his chest with love, and he tangled his hand in her wild hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Never in a thousand years did he think that he would find someone so much a part of him, in this land that he was forced to. Never in a thousand years did he think, on that day almost three years ago, that he would look into a pair of pain-filled brown eyes and see his entire future.

Because I did. And I think I loved her even then. Loved her gritty determination and her stoicism, even when she had been torn centuries away from her own home and then shot with an arrow minutes after arriving. Loved her acceptance of the situation and of himself and his fellow knights. Loved her humour, her intelligence, her thirst for knowledge. Loved the hesitance in her gaze when she looked at him, the hesitance that turned to trust and then to love. Loved the way she accepted him for who he was and didn't try to change him, or try to force him like some of the tavern wenches who were only out for protection and Roman pay.

He loved the way she moved, both on the battlefield and off it. She had such grace and strength when she fought, and they worked so well together that they could anticipate each other's moves and fill the gaps for each other. He loved the way she would analyze a situation with her calculating gaze, and then do what needed to be done, no matter what that was. He loved how she wasn't squeamish like so many other women, how she stood by him when he was needed as a healer – really, how she wasn't like most women around the fort at all. She was thoughtful, calculating, sensible and strong, while also being compassionate and loving. He loved the way her lithe body felt next to his, how she was muscles and curves, iron and silk, all at the same time. Most of all, he loved how she could just simply be with him, how they could enjoy silence together, how words weren't needed, how she didn't force him to talk, how a simple look could speak volumes with them.

Dagonet felt Iona's breathing change and knew she had woken up, so he pressed another kiss to her head and slowly rubbed gentle circles into the smooth skin of her back, skimming occasionally over the puckered scar that started behind her left hip and curved all the way around to her ribs on the right side of her torso. His voice was a rumble in his chest.

"I've been thinking." Iona didn't reply, but he knew she was listening.

"We're going to Anneli's village on this patrol." Iona nodded, smiling slightly as she thought of her village friend. Dagonet cleared his throat.

"I was thinking…" Iona sensed his hesitance and looked up, a slight frown to her gaze. Dagonet swallowed convulsively, nervously, and Iona shifted so she was leaning on one elbow with her head propped up in her hand, her other hand free to idly rub Dagonet's chest.

"What, Dag?" Her lover took a deep breath, searching for something in her eyes and obviously finding it.

"Anneli's uncle performs the hand-fastings for their village, doesn't he?" Iona's affirmation died on her lips as she realized what he was really asking her.

"Hand…fasting?" Dagonet nodded, reaching to grasp the hand that had stilled on his chest, reaching with the other to gently cup her face, his heart beating wildly and his words coming slowly.

"I don't have anything to offer you, Iona, except uncertainty. Even now, when we only have weeks until we receive our discharge papers, all I have is uncertainty. But I can promise that I will love and care for you for the rest of my life. I want you to be my wife, Iona Andromeda Demetronopolos. I want to marry you when we reach Anneli's village."

Dagonet's gaze was steady as he looked at her patiently, giving her time to process what he had just said. He could feel the pulse in her wrist fluttering wildly under his fingers and watched the emotions race through her wide brown eyes. When he saw the slightest hint of fear, he wasn't surprised.

"I'm not Alexander, Iona." His voice seemed to snap her out of the reverie she was in, and she focused on him.

"I'm not him. I'm not lying to you. I'm not going to turn into something else once we're married. I'm going to love and treat you the same then as I do now." Iona's lips trembled slightly and Dagonet clenched his jaw at the faceless man he would dearly love to destroy.

"Do you love me, Iona?" She nodded, small and scared.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" She nodded again, slowly gaining confidence from his soft voice.

"Do you trust me?" A stronger nod, this time without hesitation.

"You trust me on the battlefield, Iona. You trust me with your life. You know you can do the same off the battlefield." Iona nodded again, confident now. Dagonet saw the change and smiled at her, finally getting one in return.

"Iona, will you be hand-fasted to me? Will you be my wife?"

Finally, Iona's answer was a strong, pure, promising kiss.