Robin Hood fic!
Title: At the End of Our Days - Part I, (1/3)
Characters: Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers: This is set post Season 2 - expect spoilers for the finale and for a bit of Season 3
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
Summary: Their bond is one that defies words, actions, and even death.
Divided into what will end up being close to say, 10 sections? (Although strictly speaking, it'll be told in 2 distinct parts. You'll see.) Because it's a lengthy story and LJ is not working with me, hmph.
“We have forever, my love…”
“I hope we have forever in heaven because we didn’t have enough time on earth. Not nearly enough time.”
The first thing Marian sees clearly is Knighton Hall, with its dark browns and rich reds. The scent of food is in the air, and a feeling of home, more than anything, consumes her. When she looks down at herself, she finds that she is no longer in a borrowed white dress, but in that sea-green dress Robin loves so much. There is also no gaping wound at her side. Like this, the Holy Land and its scorching sun and pesky grains of sand seem like nothing but a distant dream. Before she can ponder any longer, however, voices echo in the room and she hastily ducks behind a door.
“Edward! Is that her?” She recognizes him as Robin’s father, years younger. Peering around from behind the door, she sees a wooden crib in the middle of the room, and a small bundled figure lying in it.
That’s… me, she realizes, with a gasp of recognition.
“It is her,” her father agrees, a smile on his face, weary and content all at once. “My daughter, Marian.”
“She’s beautiful,” the other man says, just as a toddler, barely two or three years old, peeks from behind his knees. “Oh.” A chuckle. “You’ll have to excuse Robin, I’m afraid. He’s an impatient one.”
“Just like his father?” Edward kneels down to Robin’s level. “Well, would you like to meet my daughter?”
A confused look, a furrowing of the brow, and then a gurgled “Yes” escapes the little boy’s lips. He is picked up by his father and held over the crib. He stares intently at the baby, and Marian stealthily moves from her spot by the door to see how this plays out.
He grabs her nose.
The infant breaks out into loud, tearful wails as Robin is quickly pulled away from her. Edward lifts her into his arms, bouncing her and whispering soothing words into her ears as he paces the room. Fortunately for him, she has never been a loud baby, and she drifts back into sleep in a matter of minutes.
“Well, Robin.” Edward arches an eyebrow. “That was impressive.”
“It’s his way of proposing,” quips his father. “What say you, eh? A betrothal between these two?”
Half-joking, Edward accepts. “Why not? They certainly seem to get along well enough.”
Oh, you’ll regret that soon enough, Father, Marian thinks to herself.
**
When her sight clears again, Marian finds herself perched on a thick tree branch in the middle of the forest, staring down at the forest floor. Instinctively, her eyes roam for traces of the camp, but she finds nothing. This much is certain: This Sherwood is not the one of the outlaws’.
“Quick, Much! Maybe we can lose her!” Robin, around eleven years old or so, emerges from the bushes, Much on his heels.
“Master, she’ll only put up a fuss with her father -”
“I don’t care,” Robin says, glowering. “I don’t want to hang around with some girl my father wants me to marry. It’d be better if it was just you and me, don’t you think so, Much?”
“Well -” Much begins, but is promptly cut off by a small girl whose hair has been tied back, skirts muddy from romps through the forest.
“I told you to wait,” she says, frowning.
“And we didn’t listen, did we?”
“Robin of Locksley, I do not like you,” she informs him, dead-pan.
“I shall try to keep myself from falling into the pits of despair, Lady Marian,” he retorts.
“You two are rather funny, d’you know?” Much observes, eyes darting back and forth between the two adolescents. “You’d make a great couple. I wonder what sort of kids you’d have.”
“Shut up, Much!”
“Sorry, sorry!”
“And anyway, who said I would marry you?” Marian’s words are sharp, a foreshadowing of the woman she will grow up to be. “You’re an awful person.”
“And you’re boring!” Robin shoots back. “You’re always so serious, so proper -”
“It’s better than running around here all the time like savage, uncivilized beasts -”
“You’re just scared that your dad’ll catch you behaving all unladylike,” he says, baiting her. “Climbing a tree or wearing trousers or playing around in the mud instead of… learning how to sing or do your embroidery or something.”
“Oh, is that how I feel?” she spits out angrily. “Well, then, I’ll show you.”
“Err…what?” The smug grin falls off his face rather quickly, but she’s already hiked up her skirts and started up a tree. Marian, two trees away, peers over, mentally bracing herself for what she knows will happen next.
“I’ll climb up to the very top branch,” she boasts.
Robin’s face takes on an expression she’s all too familiar with - one that clearly depicts the sheer alarm and panic he’s feeling, but refuses to give into. “You’re bluffing,” he calls up to her, just as she swings a leg over the lowest branch.
She shoots him a Look. “You really don’t know me very well, do you?” And goes back to try for the next branch.
Robin and Much exchange identical looks of unease.
“Milady,” Much calls, tentatively, “it’s really getting rather late. We should be getting back. Your father will be worried.”
“I’ll be down soon,” she replies.
Moments of growing terror - for the two boys, anyway - pass as the younger Marian steadily makes her way to the top. Robin bites his lip in apprehension. Much mutters to himself, wringing his hands.
It happens exactly as Marian remembers - a few yards away from the top and final branch, she slips. A muffled shriek escapes her throat as she frantically grabs for the nearest branch, tearing the sleeve of her dress in the process. An angry red scrape etches itself onto her skin.
Shakily, she manages to get herself onto the branch, but suddenly, the ground is a lot farther than it seems.
“Oh,” she murmurs, suddenly quite afraid.
Before she can gather the courage to make the slow descent down - there’s absolutely no way she’s asking Robin of Locksley for help! - he’s already scurried up to where she is, a worried look on his face.
“Come on,” he says, impatiently, and holds out a hand.
Without thinking, she takes it.
And it’s in this manner that he hops nimbly from branch to branch, extending his hand out to support her as they move towards the ground, uncharacteristically gentle.
As they finally make it to the ground and her world is finally set right again, she lets him know, “I didn’t need your help.”
He throws up his hands in exasperation. And then, quite unexpectedly, laughs. “All right. All right. Fine. You win.”
Marian leans her head against the bark of the tree, smiling. She thinks this may be where it all started, the very moment Robin of Locksley began to take her heart away, piece by piece.
Section 2: Here
Section 3: Here
Characters: Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers: This is set post Season 2 - expect spoilers for the finale and for a bit of Season 3
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
Summary: Their bond is one that defies words, actions, and even death.
Divided into what will end up being close to say, 10 sections? (Although strictly speaking, it'll be told in 2 distinct parts. You'll see.) Because it's a lengthy story and LJ is not working with me, hmph.
“We have forever, my love…”
“I hope we have forever in heaven because we didn’t have enough time on earth. Not nearly enough time.”
The first thing Marian sees clearly is Knighton Hall, with its dark browns and rich reds. The scent of food is in the air, and a feeling of home, more than anything, consumes her. When she looks down at herself, she finds that she is no longer in a borrowed white dress, but in that sea-green dress Robin loves so much. There is also no gaping wound at her side. Like this, the Holy Land and its scorching sun and pesky grains of sand seem like nothing but a distant dream. Before she can ponder any longer, however, voices echo in the room and she hastily ducks behind a door.
“Edward! Is that her?” She recognizes him as Robin’s father, years younger. Peering around from behind the door, she sees a wooden crib in the middle of the room, and a small bundled figure lying in it.
That’s… me, she realizes, with a gasp of recognition.
“It is her,” her father agrees, a smile on his face, weary and content all at once. “My daughter, Marian.”
“She’s beautiful,” the other man says, just as a toddler, barely two or three years old, peeks from behind his knees. “Oh.” A chuckle. “You’ll have to excuse Robin, I’m afraid. He’s an impatient one.”
“Just like his father?” Edward kneels down to Robin’s level. “Well, would you like to meet my daughter?”
A confused look, a furrowing of the brow, and then a gurgled “Yes” escapes the little boy’s lips. He is picked up by his father and held over the crib. He stares intently at the baby, and Marian stealthily moves from her spot by the door to see how this plays out.
He grabs her nose.
The infant breaks out into loud, tearful wails as Robin is quickly pulled away from her. Edward lifts her into his arms, bouncing her and whispering soothing words into her ears as he paces the room. Fortunately for him, she has never been a loud baby, and she drifts back into sleep in a matter of minutes.
“Well, Robin.” Edward arches an eyebrow. “That was impressive.”
“It’s his way of proposing,” quips his father. “What say you, eh? A betrothal between these two?”
Half-joking, Edward accepts. “Why not? They certainly seem to get along well enough.”
Oh, you’ll regret that soon enough, Father, Marian thinks to herself.
**
When her sight clears again, Marian finds herself perched on a thick tree branch in the middle of the forest, staring down at the forest floor. Instinctively, her eyes roam for traces of the camp, but she finds nothing. This much is certain: This Sherwood is not the one of the outlaws’.
“Quick, Much! Maybe we can lose her!” Robin, around eleven years old or so, emerges from the bushes, Much on his heels.
“Master, she’ll only put up a fuss with her father -”
“I don’t care,” Robin says, glowering. “I don’t want to hang around with some girl my father wants me to marry. It’d be better if it was just you and me, don’t you think so, Much?”
“Well -” Much begins, but is promptly cut off by a small girl whose hair has been tied back, skirts muddy from romps through the forest.
“I told you to wait,” she says, frowning.
“And we didn’t listen, did we?”
“Robin of Locksley, I do not like you,” she informs him, dead-pan.
“I shall try to keep myself from falling into the pits of despair, Lady Marian,” he retorts.
“You two are rather funny, d’you know?” Much observes, eyes darting back and forth between the two adolescents. “You’d make a great couple. I wonder what sort of kids you’d have.”
“Shut up, Much!”
“Sorry, sorry!”
“And anyway, who said I would marry you?” Marian’s words are sharp, a foreshadowing of the woman she will grow up to be. “You’re an awful person.”
“And you’re boring!” Robin shoots back. “You’re always so serious, so proper -”
“It’s better than running around here all the time like savage, uncivilized beasts -”
“You’re just scared that your dad’ll catch you behaving all unladylike,” he says, baiting her. “Climbing a tree or wearing trousers or playing around in the mud instead of… learning how to sing or do your embroidery or something.”
“Oh, is that how I feel?” she spits out angrily. “Well, then, I’ll show you.”
“Err…what?” The smug grin falls off his face rather quickly, but she’s already hiked up her skirts and started up a tree. Marian, two trees away, peers over, mentally bracing herself for what she knows will happen next.
“I’ll climb up to the very top branch,” she boasts.
Robin’s face takes on an expression she’s all too familiar with - one that clearly depicts the sheer alarm and panic he’s feeling, but refuses to give into. “You’re bluffing,” he calls up to her, just as she swings a leg over the lowest branch.
She shoots him a Look. “You really don’t know me very well, do you?” And goes back to try for the next branch.
Robin and Much exchange identical looks of unease.
“Milady,” Much calls, tentatively, “it’s really getting rather late. We should be getting back. Your father will be worried.”
“I’ll be down soon,” she replies.
Moments of growing terror - for the two boys, anyway - pass as the younger Marian steadily makes her way to the top. Robin bites his lip in apprehension. Much mutters to himself, wringing his hands.
It happens exactly as Marian remembers - a few yards away from the top and final branch, she slips. A muffled shriek escapes her throat as she frantically grabs for the nearest branch, tearing the sleeve of her dress in the process. An angry red scrape etches itself onto her skin.
Shakily, she manages to get herself onto the branch, but suddenly, the ground is a lot farther than it seems.
“Oh,” she murmurs, suddenly quite afraid.
Before she can gather the courage to make the slow descent down - there’s absolutely no way she’s asking Robin of Locksley for help! - he’s already scurried up to where she is, a worried look on his face.
“Come on,” he says, impatiently, and holds out a hand.
Without thinking, she takes it.
And it’s in this manner that he hops nimbly from branch to branch, extending his hand out to support her as they move towards the ground, uncharacteristically gentle.
As they finally make it to the ground and her world is finally set right again, she lets him know, “I didn’t need your help.”
He throws up his hands in exasperation. And then, quite unexpectedly, laughs. “All right. All right. Fine. You win.”
Marian leans her head against the bark of the tree, smiling. She thinks this may be where it all started, the very moment Robin of Locksley began to take her heart away, piece by piece.
Section 2: Here
Section 3: Here