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: Miserable company is still company.
It's an unsettling thought, Iona mused the next night, that Merlin wants us alive. She tucked her cape more securely around herself to try and evade some of the ever-present rain, leaning closer to the fire that wasn't really doing anything to dispel the slight chill. The enemy of my enemy is my friend? The Saxons would be the only reason he'd call his men back. She sighed and tried to blow her bangs out of her eyes, but instead resorted to plastering them aside with her equally wet hand. Dagonet sat down next to her, wrapping his thicker cape around the both of them, and Iona leaned into his warmth gratefully.
From across the fire, Gawain's complaints of the weather seemed almost like whining, and Iona chuckled at the image of Gawain-as-petulant-child. Bors, unperturbed, looked up into the drizzle, his voice oddly satisfied.
"The rain is good. Washes all the blood away." Dagonet's voice was low.
"Doesn't help the smell." Iona shrugged.
"Well, maybe if you bathed more often, husband..." she yelped as he pinched her side, then made a show of trying to get away while he pretended to smother her. Lancelot rolled his eyes at them, then looked to Bors.
"Hey Bors, do you intend to take Vanora and all your little bastards back home?" The burly man shrugged, screwing his face up into a grimace.
"Oh, I'm trying to avoid that decision. By getting killed." Amid the laughter that swirled around the fire, he looked to Dagonet seriously and with a little panic in his gaze.
"Dagonet - she wants to get married and give the children names." Dagonet just smiled and said nothing, letting Lancelot continue his baiting and teasing of Bors. With the rest of the knights occupied in the discussion of names versus numbers, Gawain collapsed beside Iona with a loud sigh.
"And when are you two going to start numbering your own children?" A flash of pain crossed Iona's face, and Dagonet cleared his throat, staring into the flames.
"Children are born easier when their parents are free." Gawain frowned, caught by Dagonet's statement - and then noticed the expression on their faces. Understanding wasn't long in coming, and he immediately sat straighter, an apology instantly on his lips. Iona waved it away with a small smile.
"You didn't know, Gawain. It's something we've only just realized ourselves." The lion-hared man joined them in staring into the fire for a few minutes before speaking slowly, hesitantly.
"If you don't... not saying that you won't, but... my parents took my sister in, when she was abandoned as a baby." Once again Iona was caught by surprise, and she looked at Gawain's earnest expression for a long moment before smiling and nodding slowly, turning to see the same light in Dagonet's eyes. Her husband nodded as well.
"Thank you, Gawain." Slightly embarrassed, the younger knight shrugged.
"'Course, you could always take half of Bors'." The three looked over at the man in question, who was raising his voice about Three's fighting prowess, which was once again shot down by Lancelot. As Bors admitted defeat and stalked away, laughter echoed around the fire - and for a little while the rain seemed a little less dismal.