Fic: Most Terrible Poverty
Title: Most terrible poverty.
Fandom: Robin Hood
Characters: Robin/Marian, Much/Robin, Much/Marian, Much/Eve, Will/Djaq, hints of Allan/Djaq/Will
Word Count: 2,500ish
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Much's musings post 1.13.
A/N: Dedicated to gnimaerd, I don't know if this counts as a Robin/Much/Marian but I hope it comes close. Congratulations on being done with school, I am extremely jealous and wish you luck with university!
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” Much mutters, his throat restricted by the stifling air of the confessional. He fidgets uncomfortably; it feels almost sacrilegious to enter a church in his tattered rags, and he isn’t exactly sure how he ended up in a church anyway. The warm fire somewhere to his left makes him comfortable and sleepy, a sharp contrast to the freezing hailstorm he is currently taking refuge from.
“What sins have you committed child?”
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It is Marian’s third day joining them in the woods and it is Marian’s fourth fight with Robin that day.
“How can you even say that? Women are entirely capable and-” She’s cut off by a sharp laugh from Robin.
“Capable? If it weren’t for me, you’d be beating small peasants or torturing animals right now, whatever it is Gisborne does for fun.” Much is entirely too exhausted to remind Robin that he saved Marian and then scrubbed swamp mud from each crevice of his body the day after. Their fight continues back and forth, finally dissolving into an extremely stirring conversation of, “I’m sorry,” and “No, I’m sorry,” and then “Well, I’m sorrier.” Much knows he should look away, but he can’t help himself even as Robin kisses Marian, gently following her lead into the privacy of the forest, twilight setting in among the trees.
Little John is sleeping, snoring loudly by the fire and Will is sitting beside Djaq, the two of them deep in conversation. Much is struck with a feeling of loneliness that he hasn’t experienced since Robin first learned the joy of horseback riding, one his servant companion wasn’t given permission to indulge in. He hears a loud giggle somewhere in the forest, and he forgets to brace himself, Robin’s reverent laugh causing him to wince lightly.
The log he is sitting on suddenly shifts and Much looks over at Allan.
“What?” Much asks, because it’s Allan and Much isn’t the mood.
“I’m not being funny…but I think for the first time we understand each other,” Allan says, his eyes firmly set upon the darkening figures of Djaq and Will, their shoulders barely touching. Much snorts, but sits in silence as he lets the familiar envy edge into his mind, making itself comfortable as it tends to.
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“This is all her fault,” Much thinks, and regrets it a moment later.
“Much, stop pacing! You’re driving me insane!” Marian snaps, and he stops abruptly, coming to sit by the fire. He watches her, her lips worn raw as she bites them nervously and he thinks she has no right to be as worried as he is.
“I envy you,” she whispers and he snorts aloud at the irony. She chooses to ignore him and continues, “Can you imagine five years of this while you two were away, waiting, not knowing where he was or whether he was alive or-” She breaks off, her voice failing her and he thinks for a moment maybe she does understand.
A comfortable stillness grows between them, calming them both until a loud scream shatters the quiet.
“Allan! I said be careful with him,”
“Sorry, I just wanted to see if he could feel it,”
“Well, I bloody well can!”
Four blurry and uncomfortable bodies move into the firelight, Much and Marian make space for Allan and Will, who gently lay Robin onto the ground.
“What in the world happened?” Much asks staring at them, he’s disappointed, honestly, that they can’t do a simple task without him.
“It was going well, everything according to plan for once until Robin decides to pick a fight with Gisborne,” Allan says, shaking his head. Some rustling diverts their attention to the lumbering body of Little John entering the campsite, breathing heavily.
“Marian, hand me that cloth,” Djaq commands, it always seems to Much that whenever blood and pain are present Djaq seems much more at home. Marian is still unmoving, staring at the blood staining Robin’s face and tunic, her pale face seems impossibly whiter.
“It’s not mine, the blood, Marian, it’s not mine,” Robin says quietly, his gaze trained on her and Much lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Did you kill him Robin?” the color is back in her face, horror replaced by a guilty look Much thinks she deserves.
“He’s fine, he’s perfectly fine,” Robin spits out bitterly, and Marian looks away from him. Much holds Robin’s hand as Djaq puts bones into their places, and with Robin’s screams echoing in his mind, he’s never felt as wrathful as he does towards Marian in this moment.
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The storms that have lasted a week end suddenly and there is a unanimous and unspoken declaration of a holiday among the outlaws. Much lies still in the grass, a red afterimage of the sun appears behind his closed eyes.
“Much,” a soft voice implores, and Much groans when he opens his eyes.
“I’d like to be alone a moment, simply one moment!” he says, but makes space for her next to him. She lies down next to him and places her head on his chest, and his body stiffens uncomfortably. She doesn’t have a right, he thinks, to hearken back to their childhood relationship when he still hates her so much sometimes. Times like when Robin sees through him because Marian’s hair is still wet from a quick bath in the creek. Or when Robin moves blankets away from Much’s and closer to hers.
“Much, I think he hates me a little,” she tells him, sighing softly. She sounds so young and wearied that he’s afraid to move and upset her.
“You know Robin, he needs constant attention. He’ll be good as gold next time you so much as laugh at one of his jokes. He’s worried, you know, that he can’t make you happy here in the wild,” Much says, putting an arm around her and she moves closer to his body.
“If he doesn’t realize how much he needs you then he’s a fool,” she says and he understands that maybe he could say the same to her. “I worried for you sometimes, away in the Holy Lands. I was afraid you would spend all your time looking after him and forget about yourself. And you did, didn’t you?” she asks, and he closes his eyes again and she’s just a warm weight on his chest.
“You deserve more than this,” he tells her, he’s about to say more about how wonderful she is but a bird flies by and its fluttering wings distract Much into forgetfulness. “Bats, did you know, can understand noises nobody else can,” he tells her.
“Like you,” she whispers. Unspoken affection hangs in the air, and he pulls her closer to his chest, placing a soft kiss in her tangled hair. He loves her, and she loves him and he thinks, as he lets a feeling of sloth creep into his skin, that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt.
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In the beginning he wonders how it’s possible to love two people who are so different, but then he finds that he loves them differently too. Marian floats into his dreams, a soft lingering lavender scent following her wherever she goes. He makes it his goal to make her smile when she fights with Robin, and is instead rewarded with a crying mess of a stubborn girl in love with an even more stubborn boy. Robin charges into his every thought, smiles and smirks left as permanent imprints in his brain. He sits with Robin, in the aftermath of fights, silent, and doesn’t offer consolation nor does he offer judgment.
A giggle permeates the silence of his thoughts and for a moment he is confused. Because Marian and Djaq do not giggle. He looks over to the entrance of their campsite, where Eve sits beside Robin and Marian. He smiles at them, walking quickly, his heartbeat quickening when Robin smirks over at him.
Much makes love to Eve later, hidden away in the forest. Her body is warm beneath his, and her eyes are closed in pleasure. He seeks release but Eve’s hair isn’t dark enough and her eyes aren’t that shade of blue. She leaves him in frustration, apologies and insecurities etched so deep into her face that he has to look away.
He walks back to the campsite slowly when he hears a cry of pain. He looks around worriedly and considers finding Little John or Allan, but instead wanders toward the sound. He finds Marian straddling Robin’s hips, her alabaster skin glows in the moonlight and he’s never been so in love. He quietly finds release by a tree, watching them lustfully.
“You’re so beautiful,” he hears Robin’s voice, and there is a seriousness Much almost never hears.
“I love you,” she whispers to him, and the moment is so intimate that he’s forced to turn back to camp.
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“Much, pass me the---whatever that is,” Robin says, pointing in some general direction, cake almost falling out of his hands. Much giggles and hands him the wine, and there isn’t a reason for it except simple happiness. It’s the first time he’s been alone with Robin in so long and he’s missed his best friend so very much.
“Do you remember the time, in the Holy Land---” Robin delves into a story and Much stops listening, instead staring at Robin’s face, his eyes squinting as if to find the memory. Much loves tales of the Holy Land, where a world despite being permeated with blood and anguish revolved around him and Robin. Much looks around and the campsite is entirely silent. Djaq and Will had agreed to go to Scarborough and Allan, being Allan, had begged to come along. A silent agreement among the four dictated that Little John come along as well, and the purpose of Will’s meticulously planned trip was ruined. Marian, in turn, decided to visit her father in the north, and everyone had to suffer three days of goodbyes from Robin for a four day trip.
“And then you saved me, do you remember?” And Much doesn’t, because the faces of the men in the Holy Land blend together until he can’t set them apart in his memories.
“I love you Much, you know that? I love you best of all, always have,” Robin says, promptly falling over. And Robin doesn’t say ‘except for Marian’ but the unspoken words hang in the air between them anyway. Much doesn’t care though, Robin loves him and it’s the most important thing in the world. Loud hooves frighten him, and he looks up to see Marian walking into the campsite, exhaustion evident on her face. And Much can’t help but love her, even when she begins to berate them for their gluttony, for the ecstatic and pure look on Robin’s face when she kisses him and whispers “Hello.”
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Much wonders aloud if she ever misses the security and wealth provided to her before she joined their ragged pack of outlaws in the woods. She doesn’t look at him; instead she carefully examines the diamond ring she’s running her fingers over.
“Sometimes,” she whispers hesitantly, as if it’s a terrible secret, and maybe it is. “He used to give me presents like this, you know, professing his undying love and devotion,” she said with a laugh, the sunlight glints off the jewel in her fingers and he has to avert his eyes.
“Robin has some troubles expressing, uh---how he feels. He loves you.” Much says the latter part assuredly, and they both know it’s the truth.
“I know,” she says, brushing herself off as she stands. Much loves her but the confidence in her voice makes him a little ill. “Girls just like jewelry I suppose,” she says, placing the ring back into the chest they’ve pilfered from the castle stores. He can still see Marian’s gaze on the ring when he returns the items to their dutiful owners in Nettlestone.
“Awful men, that’s what they are. My mother used to say men who take what does not belong to them end up rotting in the fieriest parts of Hell,” the midwife tells him as she cradles her belongings, muttering, “Greedy, greedy men.” Much nods at her, wondering if the guilt is evident on his face as he fingers the small diamond necklace in his pocket.
He ignores Robin’s reproaching glare, Marian’s wide smile tucking itself neatly into his memories. He wishes greedily that he had stolen more from the Sheriff, if only to see her beautiful mouth widened by surprise, her arms thrown around his neck and her lips soft and warm on his cheek.
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Much has heard declarations of love and friendship from a very drunk Robin countless times, but he thinks this may be a first. An entirely sober Robin stands in front of the hastily assembled crowd, his glass raised in the air.
“To Marian, who is beautiful and wonderful and I uh---I think I’m a little madly in love with her,” Robin says, and Much hasn’t seen him grin this much in---well ever. Even in the rapidly setting sun Much can see her blush, and she’s never looked so beautiful. There’s stew on the front of her wedding dress where Allan tripped quite suddenly and her veil is torn from dancing with Little John, but she’s never looked quite so happy to him.
His gaze lands on Eve, who has been smiling at him the whole night, a sweet and simple smile that scares him away. “I’m not ready,” he thinks, and turns away from her to find Will standing beside him. He likes Will’s companionship, it isn’t demanding or suffocating, so Much stays.
“Do you ever feel you love someone so much you need to spend every second with them?” Will asks quietly, and the question is so unlike Will that Much is taken aback. “Sorry, I just…it’s this wedding business,” Will says, becoming quiet again.
“Tell her,” Much advises, his head nodding towards Djaq, because he does know how it feels he thinks as he watches Marian and Robin dance slowly at the edge of the wedding party.
“You tell her,” Will retorts, and Much follows his gaze to Eve. She smiles at him and Much quickly looks away, because it really isn’t her fault that he’s in love with two people, both of which don’t include her. Eve is soft and lovely and wonderful, but she hasn’t got Marian’s brown hair that tickles the tip of his nose when he kisses her forehead. And she doesn’t smile away apologies and laugh her way into mistakes like Robin. Much instead turns to smile at Marian, who waves back at him distractedly, and Much wishes he could swallow his pride and tell her, tell them how he felt. Instead he stands there, and finds that even loneliness becomes a welcome reprieve from constant wishing.
A/N: Title comes from a Mother Teresa quote, "The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved."