((This scene takes place on Earth, during the process of the Nicoletti trial.))

The worst of it was over - Anya had testified in court, as had Elena. Now it was just a matter of time and eventual deliberation. Tony and Anya had stayed on in New York in support of his sister, but he was anxious to get back to Rhy'Din. New York was tainted to him now. It would never be the same. Rhy'Din had become home, but there was one last thing Tony wanted to do before they left New York, before they returned to their lives in Rhy'Din, and he wanted to do it in private. He'd chosen a quiet little restaurant he knew of in Brooklyn. An Italian place, of course, known for having the best meatballs in town. It was charming and cozy and romantic, the dining room dimly lit and all aglow with candlelight, the perfect place for a quiet dinner with the one you loved, where you could whisper sweet nothings and not worry about being disturbed.

The maitre'd had shown them to a quiet little table in the corner and left them with dinner menus before hurrying off to fetch the expensive bottle of wine Tony had ordered, sparing no expense tonight, not where his Anya was concerned.

She hadn't been entirely sure when he'd told her they were going out that it was such a good idea, but Anya had lost the ability to deny Tony anything. She'd done it exactly once in her lifetime, and it had caused four years of heartache she never wanted to repeat again. With her turn on the stand over, it seemed the right time for their promised evening out, and she wasn't surprised to find herself whisked away to Brooklyn, to a little restaurant he'd taken her to just once before, when they had first been together. Sat with him in the intimate dimness of the candlelit dining room, she smiled at him, reaching out to twist her fingers with his. "I remember the first time you brought me here," she mused affectionately. "I was so nervous, I couldn't eat a thing."

"As I recall, we both were, and the chef wanted to know if there was something wrong with the food," Tony reminisced, a smile on his face as he reached across the table to tangle his fingers with hers. He had brought her back to this very place for a reason, but that reason wouldn't become clear just yet. "I've been thinking, Anya..." he started as his thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand.

She giggled softly at the memory of that evening, the first time they'd been intimate, what seemed an age ago. So much had happened since those first fumbling steps into each other's hearts and minds; enough to know that she never wanted to be without him again. Enough to know that his pride wouldn't stand for her making that overture, though she was content to wait. Her father approved of Tony, after all; that was the greatest hurdle overcome without even needing to try. She glanced down as his thumb swept over her hand, lifting green eyes to meet his once again in gentle enthrallment to whatever it was he wanted to say. "Yes, lyubimaya?"

There was no easy way to ask what he wanted to ask her, except to spit it out. He was fairly confident of her answer, though there was always that little bit of doubt. Though they'd known each other for years, they had only come back together recently. Tony and Anya, together again, as they had lauded them in the press. He didn't want to hold her back from a promising career, but whatever happened, there was no way he was going to lose her again. He paused a moment as if to consider his next words, wondering if he should stopped beating around the bush and just ask her.

The hesitation made her smile. She didn't think he could be so naive as to think she didn't know what he wanted to say, but at the same time, Anya didn't want to jump the gun and deny this hot-blooded Italian male his moment of male delight when he finally got the words out. Her fingers tightened on his for a moment, tenderly squeezing, only to be prevented from speaking by the arrival of the waiter with their wine.

Tony only got one word out of his mouth before the waiter arrived, and that one word was, "Anya..." He scowled in annoyance as the waiter made a fuss of pouring their wine and waiting for Tony to taste it and voice his approval. Seeing as they weren't ready to order, he didn't hover long, just long enough to interrupt what Tony had been about to say. He seemed unusually nervous for some reason, which was not normal for the eldest of the De Luca clan. Setting his wine glass back down, he sighed as he glanced after the waiter, as if to make sure he wasn't going to interrupt again anytime soon. He wondered if he should have picked a different place to do this, but what better place than one that held such fond memories for them both.

Taking a sip of her wine, Anya couldn't help another smile at the frustrated look on Tony's face, taking the opportunity to enlist the waiter in altering their seating arrangement a little. With a quick rearrangement, she was sitting close beside Tony, rather than opposite him, her bare arm brushing his sleeve as she tangled her hands with his. "Lyubimaya," she murmured to him, "relax. Nothing is going to go wrong tonight."

If only he could make himself believe that! Tony pouted back at Anya, not quite as confident as she was. He had waited so long for this moment and now that it had arrived, he found himself as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date. But this was his Anya - he already knew her answer before he even popped the question. One hand slid into his coat pocket for a moment, while his other was tangled with hers. Though they were already close together, he leaned in closer, his head nearly touching hers. "Anya, I love you so much. I cannot live without you. I should have asked you this months ago, but I was afraid to." He pulled out a small blue velvet box from his pocket and flipped it open with his thumb. Inside was a white gold ring with a square setting, in the center of which was a many-faceted blue topaz surrounded by tiny glittering diamonds. "Bella mia, would you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?"

He had her the moment he said her name. Enchanted by the way he spoke, how obvious his nerves were, she barely heard a word he actually said, green eyes looking adoringly into blue as he fumbled to open the little box he had produced from his pocket. She didn't even glance down at the ring, not needing to see it to know that he had found something to suit them both perfectly. "Da, milaya, lyubimaya," she murmured, blinking suddenly as she realized she had relaxed so much in the glow of his love for her that she had forgotten to speak English. Laughing a little at the slip, Anya leaned close to kiss her Tony tenderly, her fingers pouring affectionately over his cheek. "Yes," she whispered through her smile. "Of course I will."

"To the loveliest ballerina to ever grace the stage," he continued, obviously besotted with her, dark eyes shining with happiness as sipped from his own glass. "How do you feel about dancing the part of the Stepmother in Cinderella" Or would you prefer Fairy Godmother?" he asked, his mind never wandering too far from the ballet.

She blushed softly as he complimented her, setting her glass down. It was no surprise to hear the conversation turning back toward work and the ballet troupe they had both worked so hard on over the past months. "My preference would be for the Fairy Godmother," she admitted, adding with a faint grin, "She has a prettier costume."

"I thought you might say that," he admitted with a smirk. He was planning on posting the cast list and rehearsal dates in the next few days and wanted to make sure she was happy with the part he'd cast her in. As far as he was concerned, she was a prima ballerina who deserved the lead, but he tried to be fair and give all his ballerinas a chance. He frowned a little at the thought of everything she'd given up on Earth to join him there.

The frown made her own brow furrow in an echo of his expression, her fingertips rising to smooth the lines from his face. She knew what he was thinking about - he no longer needed to vocalize it. "The greatest mistake I could ever have made would be to have let you get away from me again," she told him. "I have no care for a great career, Tony. I tried it, and it hurt more than it healed. I love you, and to be with you is the greatest gift I could ever wish for. Do not complicate it with regrets that I do not feel."

His mouth curved into a small smile, all the love he was feeling for this very special woman there to see on his face and in his eyes. Anyone could see how he adored her and always had. He drew her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there, soft and loving. "I cannot live without you, Anya. Wherever you go, I go." Though he loved the ballet as much as she did - it was his life's ambition, after all - he loved her more than even that, more than anyone or anything. She was his Anya. She was the one person who gave his life meaning. "I will always love you, Anya. Always."

"Please do not start singing that terrible Whitney Houston song to me," she warned with a teasing flash in her eyes. "I will have to gag you with a bread stick if you attempt it." Her thumb stroked over his lips as they lingered close together; they might as well have been dining completely alone for all the attention she gave the rest of the restaurant. "Always, lyubimaya. I promise."

Tony chuckled at the thought of having a bread stick stuffed in his mouth. While he might be a great dancer, he thought his singing left something to be desired. "You don't want me to serenade you?" he asked with a smirk, enjoying teasing her. "I am not going to let you get away from me again," he warned her, kissing her hand again. "Where do you want to go for a honeymoon' Anywhere you want. Money is no object."

"Italy." Perhaps it was strange that she had an answer all ready for that question, but then again, perhaps it wasn't. Anya wasn't wildly decisive about most things, but this" This she had decided on years before. She giggled as she kissed his cheek. "I would like to see Rome, and Sicily, and Florence, and Naples. I would like you to show me Italy. All of Italy."

He chuckled. "I'm not enough of Italy for you? You have to see it all?" he teased, dark eyes shining in the candlelight, as bright as the diamonds in her engagement ring. "Wherever you wish to go, mia amore. You can show me Russia, and I will show you Italy."

"I want to see you in Italy," she told him with a gentle giggle. "And if I am converting to marry you, the least you could do is show me the Pope, yes?" Teasing, she kissed him once again, wondering how she was going to keep her mind on eating dinner when there was so much to discuss, to enjoy, to celebrate between them.

"The Pope," he echoed, rolling his eyes. "I may be a famous dancer, but I don't think I am important enough to get a private meeting with the Pope. If you're lucky, perhaps we'll catch a glimpse and you can wave," he teased back, returning her kiss. Their dinners arrived, and though they were both too excited to eat much, they somehow managed to eat enough that the chef was not insulted this time around. The conversation during dinner revolved mostly around the upcoming ballet, rehearsals and parts, and possibly plans for the future. The year was quickly winding down, and there were only two ballets left before the new year. Between Cinderella and Moulin Rouge, they'd be busy for the rest of the year, until at least December, but no one ever got married during Advent. It just wasn't done.

It wasn't often that they treated themselves to a fancy meal, and though the food was excellent, Anya barely tasted it, riding high on the excitement of taking another step with Tony into the future they had almost derailed trying to be understanding with each other four years before. She didn't even give into the urge to have a dessert, most unusually for her. What she truly wanted, and what she found it ridiculously easy to talk Tony into, was to walk with him along the riverside in the darkness.

Hand in hand with his Anya, they walked along the river, a familiar field of stars twinkling brightly overhead, moonlight from Earth's single moon reflecting off the water. He had not realized how much he missed Earth until they came back here, and though Rhy'Din was home now, Earth was only a portal away. "I got a call a few days ago. We've been invited to dance at the Spring Gala." He didn't have to explain what he meant - there was only one Spring Gala, as far as the ballet was concerned. It was still a long way away, not until May, and the fact that they had already been asked was an honor in itself.

The Spring Gala. They'd never danced the Spring Gala together, though they both danced it separately over the years. And the first thing that leapt into her head was this ....by the time the Spring Gala came around, they would be married. They would be able to dance their first engagement in New York City as husband and wife at the N.Y.C.B. Spring Gala. Her fingers tightened on his as they walked along, drawing his arm about her shoulders. "Just so long as they know that my name will not be Komarova, when we dance for them."