FIC: "A Life Less Ordinary" (Chapter 12)
Title: A Life Less Ordinary
Fandom: Robin Hood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Outlaws, Marian, Carter, Guy, Sheriff. Canon pairings
Setting: Post-season 2
Spoilers: 2.13
Summary: They’d saved the King, but had they saved England? An alternate season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the Danny Boyle film, the rest belongs to the BBC
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11 I
Chapter 12: I Think We’re Going to Need a Bigger Camp.
Sherwood Forest
Sherwood was different. The crisp air of late autumn had a bite to it; the few leaves which stubbornly clung to branches were brittle and shades of dull brown, and their numerous brothers carpeted the forest floor. It was not the same greenwood Marian had left, with birdsong in every tree and warm afternoon light filtering through the canopy tinting everything a rich, warm gold.
And of course, the man beside her, a year older - he was different, too.
And yet, it felt right to be with Robin again. Marian was relieved, for she’d been dreading the moment of their reunion ever since they had arrived back in England. If she was honest with herself, she was dreading the moment ever since leaving the Holy Land. So many things could have happened in her absence; Robin could have been captured, or killed, or even worse, moved on. Marian wouldn’t begrudge him finding solace in another, thinking her dead - but she certainly did not want to be confronted by it, or be required to deal with it. Perhaps most of all, she worried that such time and distance would have changed things between them. Had his heart cooled in the year between marriage and reunion - had her own?
But then they had met in the forest, and she had felt her heart leap at the sound of his voice, at the sight of him; dishevelled, thinner, but unmistakeably Robin. He had stared at her for what had felt like a lifetime and she had wanted to run into his arms, tell him how much she had missed him, but had been stopped by his haunted expression. Marian had also been keenly aware of everyone else watching and she wasn’t too pleased about their reunion having an audience. But then Robin had made the first move, crushing her into his embrace, tears wet on her shoulder as his hands clutched the fabric of her cloak and pressed into her back. She had held him in return, moved by such a show of emotion which was so rare for him, as the rest of the gang, thankfully, had moved away.
Eventually, Robin had raised his head, cupped her face in his hands, spoken her name as if it was a prayer, and kissed her soundly. It was not a soft, romantic kiss like they’d often shared in the past, but rather passionate, demanding - almost desperate - the kind of kiss he had only ever given her in the throes of his deepest embrace, when he’d let his desire overwhelm his carefully constructed control. She’d returned the kiss with fervour, feeling truly alive for the first time since she had first awoken in Acre.
He’d led her deeper into the woods, to one of the gang’s back-up hideouts, where they kept supplies and funds in case their first camp was compromised. Marian had been there a few times before; it had been their rendezvous point when she’d been able to break away from the castle, to spend a few quiet hours in his arms, both of them desperately trying to forget the world that was conspiring to keep them apart.
As he had done on those occasions, Robin had concealed the entrance to the small hideaway and lain her cloak down over the dried leaves that covered the earthen floor. When he kissed her again, longing hit Marian deep in her gut, as she realised just how much she had missed him; his touch, his long, nimble fingers, the heat of his skin which almost burned when pressed against her own, the taste of him which was like earth and birch and glory - even the scratch of his beard against her neck. Marian had not allowed herself to feel any longing during their separation, but with his nearness and her lips still burning she suddenly realised how desperately she wanted to be with him.
So she’d drawn him closer and removed his shirt in between kisses, casting it forcefully aside. Usually she had let him take the lead as there was no question he was the more experienced, but she had no desire for romantic preliminaries, not this time, not after an entire year.
Marian pulled him down to the ground with her as she undid the laces on his trousers and he, sensing her intent, pushed up her skirts and ran his fingers over remembered pathways. When he touched her it felt like coming home; like all of her fears and anxieties melted away as he pressed his lips to her neck and she splayed her hands over the tensing muscles in his back as they joined together. Robin whispered love into her ear and Marian had simply held him tighter, allowing herself to be carried away by happiness, desire and above all relief.
Afterwards, Marian had allowed him to hold her, something she’d never before permitted, having always been conscious of time and the need to get back to the castle lest she be missed. She’d told him the story of her survival, Amineh nursing her back to health, finding Will, Djaq and Carter again and coming back to England. She’d left out the part about Richard, thinking it best to wait before burdening him with such news.
Robin lay on his side, head propped up with one arm as he listened to her story intently and, to his credit, did not interrupt. Marian lay on her back, and tilted her head towards him as she recounted her tale, his other hand clasped in hers as she absently played with his fingers.
“And your new friend, Tuck?” Robin queried, once she’d finished. “He’s a Hospitaller.” He did not sound pleased.
“He is a man of God, yes,” she confirmed.
“I have known many who have claimed to be men of God,” Robin told her, squeezing her fingers slightly. “Few truly were.”
“Tuck is a little strange,” she admitted. “But I do not doubt his piety, or conviction.”
“If you’re sure,” he added, then chuckled to himself. “Perhaps some spiritual guidance is just what the lads need.”
Marian did not tell him about Tuck’s strange faith in her. She half believed that Robin would laugh off the idea and whilst she herself did not put any stock in Tuck’s belief that she had some destiny to fulfil, she had no desire to see Robin dismiss it either, for despite herself she would be angry with him and she didn’t want to argue so soon after their reunion.
“It is a miracle you are alive,” Robin was suddenly very serious, and Marian wondered if he was half-reading her thoughts. He unclasped his hand from hers and then rested his palm on her stomach for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths as if trying to build up courage. Then he pushed up the fabric of her blouse to reveal the ugly scar which ran several inches across her belly. “Are you really alright?” he asked, his voice sounding very small as his fingers traced the puckered skin gently.
“Yes,” she assured him. Robin pushed her blouse up further to reveal the other scar higher up on her torso, smaller, but still noticeable against her pale skin.
“Djaq says neither of them will ever heal completely,” Marian told him softly, looking at him as his gaze was fixed on the visual sign of their separation. “But perhaps it’s meant to be that way,” she continued when he did not answer. “As a reminder.”
She lifted her hand to his chest and ran her fingers over his own scar, stark against his side even after three years. It made her feel closer to him, their matching pair of wounds both received saving the life of the King, a visible sign of their sacrifice.
But Robin brushed her hand away and covered his scar with his palm. He had never liked her seeing it, and in fact had always tried to keep it covered when they’d been together. Marian knew that it was because he also saw his scars as a reminder, but one of failure. Robin had never been content with simply being the best at anything he did - he demanded perfection. Success over others was of little consequence to him; it was success over himself that he cared about. And so for an enemy to get close enough to wound him, penetrate his skin, was galling, with a scar being a permanent reminder of that perceived failure.
Marian, on the other hand, wore her scars proudly.
“Tell me what has been happening here,” she changed the subject purposefully and smoothed her blouse back down.
This seemed to work, as Robin shook off his melancholy and proceeded to enthusiastically tell her about the changes the gang had implemented in her absence. She was surprised, but pleased, to learn of their new brand of collective leadership.
“Every man has his say,” he explained with obvious pride, “and each voice is worth the same as another.”
“I never thought I would see Robin Hood deferring authority,” she teased him, her heart feeling light to do so again.
“I’ve changed, Marian,” he told her earnestly. “You would be proud of me.”
She smiled, touched that he would even admit such a thing. “I am glad that things are going well here.”
They lay without speaking for a few minutes, Robin seemingly content as he gazed at her, softly stroking her hair that fell about her shoulders, every so often twining his fingers around the loose curls. Marian used to comfortable silence to build up the courage to say perhaps the one thing she knew would dampen his mood.
“Robin, I have to ask,” she said eventually, took his hand and squeezed it gently. “You didn’t….have you….” She cleared her throat. “Is Gisborne still alive?”
The effect was instant - Robin withdrew his hand and frowned down at her. “And if he wasn’t?” he asked her shortly. “Would you care?”
Marian felt uneasy; Guy had always been a sore spot with Robin, and he had never really understood that she had seen something good in him. Robin saw only a murderer when he looked at Guy - Marian saw a tormented soul that had desperately reached out to hers. And she had lied to him, deceived him and used him for her own ends. There was a certain amount of guilt she felt about Guy, and she could never absolve herself of it knowing that Robin had killed him in her name.
She shifted onto her side so that she could face him better, and reached up to tenderly brush the hair back from his eyes. “You do not kill, Robin,” he told him softly. “So yes, I would care.”
Robin looked at her for a few long moments, as if searching for something in her eyes. He had given her the same look before, whenever he had been particularly jealous, or anxious about her feelings. Almost as if he expected her to announce a sudden passionate love for Guy at any moment and abandon him. Perhaps before, she had understood such uneasiness, but now felt as if they had moved beyond that. Hadn’t she married him, twice, in the Holy Land? But she didn’t voice those thoughts and instead held his gaze, trying to convey the security of the love she felt for him.
“He’s alive,” Robin said eventually, breaking eye contact and casting his gaze downward. Marian breathed a sigh of relief, something which clearly did not escape Robin’s notice. “But it’s not just my soul you’re concerned about,” he questioned, searching her face again. “Is it?” he queried.
She gave no answer, which he took as confirmation, and gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “The man ran you through with a sword, Marian,” he reminded her bitterly. “You were between him and the King, and so he disposed of you.”
“That’s not what happened,” she insisted. “I taunted him,” she tried to explain, wanting him to understand. “I knew I couldn’t challenge him physically, and I had no weapon - so I had to improvise.”
Robin furrowed his brow, looking perturbed. “What did you say?”
“I…” she paused, but decided that the truth was the only option. “I told him…that I would rather die than be with him. That I was going to marry you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “That I loved you.”
Robin seemed somewhat mollified, and visibly clamped down on a smile. “Why in the King’s name did you tell him that?” he asked, but his tone was lighter.
Marian shrugged, although she had replayed the events in her mind many times and had no doubt about her motivations.
“Because I knew that’s what would hurt him the most,” she explained. That had been her main goal, to disarm him with painful words if she could not disarm him physically. And yet she also remembered the exhilaration of speaking them and knowing, for the first time and without doubts, her own mind. “But also because it is the truth,” Marian continued and took his face in both of her hands. “I do love you, Robin.”
Robin smiled with visible joy and perhaps a bit of relief. “I love you, too,” he told her, then leaned forward and kissed her gently.
He pulled her closer and her arms went around his neck, allowing herself to be drawn into his embrace. It was just like she remembered; warmth blossoming in her heart like the first day of spring after a cold and bitter winter. She had been so aware of herself on the journey back to England, feeling the scrutiny of the others keenly. It was such a relief to simply let go of any pretence, to lose herself in Robin’s arms.
He began to kiss her neck, and she arched into him, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His grip on her was so tight it was as if he felt she would slip away, but she didn’t protest.
“I love you so much,” he murmured, breath hot against her skin.
She lifted his head again, not willing to settle for just his embrace. “Show me,” she demanded, and pressed her lips to his.
Later, she lay with her head resting on his chest, listening to his even breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart. Sooner or later they would have to return to the gang, but for one brief moment she could pretend that she was simply a woman in the arms of her lover, without the worry of feeding the poor and fighting the Sheriff. One moment, she would allow herself, and no more.
“It was a stupid thing to tell him,” Robin’s voice broke through her reverie.
“What?” Marian asked. She was slightly drowsy and had in fact thought Robin was asleep himself. But it appeared he had been running their earlier conversation over in his mind.
“Gisborne,” he clarified. “Telling him what you did.”
She shifted slightly in his arms, turning over and resting one arm across his chest and then perching her chin atop her wrist. “Why?”
“Why?” he mimicked her. “Because he stabbed you, that’s why!”
“It worked though, didn’t it,” she shrugged. “He didn’t kill Richard.”
“He killed you!”
She sighed and sat up, irritated, tossing her hair over her shoulder and regarding him for several moments. “I had to do something. How many times have you put yourself in danger, thrown yourself into almost certain death to save another’s life?”
“That’s different.” He sat up, scowling.
“I see,” she replied with sarcasm. “Because you’re Robin Hood.”
“Because I didn’t die,” he insisted.
Suddenly she found the situation rather amusing. “Neither did I,” she reminded him, almost laughing. “And you’ve just been lucky that there’s always someone there to save you with a distraction.” She poked him playfully in the ribs, hoping that he would see how ridiculous he was being and laugh about it with her.
But he remained stony-faced. “No you didn’t die,” he agreed. “But you certainly gave a very good impression of it this past year.”
Marian was somewhat taken aback. “You’re…angry at me for not returning sooner?” she asked him incredulously.
He lowered his gaze, and his hair fell into his eyes. “No, of course not.” But his tone was not convincing.
She retreated from him slightly, rearranging her skirts under her legs in irritation. “It is not as if I just picked myself up, dusted myself off and carried on, Robin,” she told him sharply. “It was weeks before I’d even regained consciousness. And after that my recovery was very slow. I was not fit to travel.”
He nodded but did not reply and did not again raise his eyes to meet hers.
“And I was trying to further the cause for peace,” she continued, somewhat peeved at him for making her explain, and at herself for feeling as if she needed to. “You of all people should understand that.”
“I do,” he said very quietly. She almost informed him that she had, in fact, been able to persuade the King to return when he had not, but stopped herself when he finally looked up at her. His eyes were shadowed, and for the first time she noticed the dark rims under them, the lines of worry and stress that had not been present a year earlier. Clearly her absence had had a profound effect on him, far more than she had realised or wanted to think about.
Robin shifted closer to her and cupped her face with one hand, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly. “I have just missed you,” he told her, his voice pained. “I haven’t felt like myself without you.”
She was touched by his honesty and his plain, open emotion. Very rarely had he been so with her, his true feelings always hidden in jest or painful, clumsy metaphors. He had always known how to charm women, and in her youth she had been no exception, but it had mostly been bravado. Fine, passionate words came easily to him when it was all for show; his true thoughts he had always kept to himself.
And even after they’d found a way back to each other, declarations of love had always been forced out of him in an emotionally fuelled moment; her asking him to spare Allan’s life, his apprehensive proposal over a freshly-dug grave, those harrowing moments in the tree with Sheriff’s men below them.
But the raw pain she saw plainly etched across his face was new to her; like a glimpse into his soul that he had never been truly willing to show her before. She had known that he would grieve for her, miss her, but she hadn’t realised to what extent. His anguished words in the sands of the Holy Land came back to her - I can’t fight without you. Marian had never considered them to be anything more than an exaggeration in a moment of distress, but it seemed clear there was at least some truth in them.
“I’m here now,” Marian told him, and took his hand from her check, holding it in both of hers. “I’m here.” She knew that she could not put off her bad news any longer. “And I need to tell you something - about the King.”
Marian proceeded to fill him in on all the details, the peace accord, the King’s capture and their visit to Bavaria, her suspicions that it was all the Sheriff’s doing. He listened intently, but without reaction. When she finally finished she waited with trepidation for him to become impassioned, begin making plans to travel to Austria and rescue the King at any cost. Now that she was back in England she had no desire to leave again, but knew how dearly Robin loved Richard and how seriously he took his role as his protector.
Instead Robin was silent for a long time, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the information.
“This is troubling news,” he said finally. “No doubt the Sheriff plans to announce it with the next tax increase - we must be ready to increase our deliveries.”
It was certainly not the reaction she had been expecting. “You…you don’t want to mount a rescue attempt?” she queried after a few stunned moments.
Robin was silent for a few more moments, clearly having trouble with his decision, but eventually sighed in resignation. “Richard must look to God for protection, now,” he replied, albeit with obvious discomfort. “We need to focus on the people we can help here.”
She apprised him thoughtfully. “You have changed.”
“He strung us up in the desert, Marian,” his voice was pained. “After all of my love and service, he just…left us to die.” He shook his head slightly, as if he still could not believe it. “He is my King and I have sworn to serve him unto death” he added. “If he asked it of me, of course I would go.”
Robin paused and took her hand again, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “But he sent you back to me. Our place is here - together.”
*********
Outlaw’s Camp
“I think we’re going to need a bigger camp.”
Much looked around their small abode and counted the bunks. Six, although two were currently unoccupied. He counted the people around the camp; himself sitting on his own bunk, Will and Djaq settling their belongings back in their old places while Allan hovered around them excitedly, Little John and Carter warming themselves by the fire and Tuck examining the hidden lever in the rockface with interest. Plus Robin and Marian, wherever they were enjoying their reunion.
Nine.
They’d lived in close enough quarters with six people, and Much remembered how crowded it had seemed those few weeks Marian had lived with them the last time. Although, most of the discomfort was due to Robin and Marian’s constant bickering, which had made all of them uneasy and looking to escape the confines of camp. Still, three extra people on top of that was going to be a challenge. Robin and Marian could share a bunk, he decided, as they had done before, and probably Will and Djaq, but in any event they would need more room.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Will spoke up and looked around the camp himself. Much could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, examining the space and dimensions with his carpenter’s mind. “I have a few ideas.”
“Until then, as they newest member of your band I am happy to sleep on the floor,” Tuck spoke up in dulcet tones. Other than his initial thanks when Much had greeted him, they were the first words he had spoken.
“Steady on, mate,” Allan said with a chuckle. “Who exactly are you again? I don’t remember anyone inviting you into the gang.”
Much noticed Djaq purse her lips ever so slightly, and took note of the fact that she did not particularly care for this Tuck person. As for Tuck himself, he seemed unperturbed. “The Lady Marian has invited me,” he replied simply.
“Did she now?” Allan asked sceptically. “Well, Marian’s not exactly part of the gang either, is she?”
“Shut up, Allan,” Much told him crossly. “Of course Marian’s part of the gang!” A year earlier, Much had barely been able to admit that Marian was “sort of” a member of the gang. But her return changed everything and Much would not allow a word against her.
“Blimey, and so it starts,” Allan rolled his eyes dramatically. “She gets to invite whoever she wants, now? Don’t I get a veto power or somethin’?”
“Do you object to my being here?” Tuck queried.
“No offence, mate,” Allan shrugged. “But we all know each other. Who are you? No idea.”
“I can vouch for Tuck,” Carter spoke up calmly. “He can be trusted.”
“Says the man who once tried to kill Robin,” Allan pointed out. “And you’re not part of the gang, either, you don’t get a say.”
“Robin asked me to join the last time I was here,” Carter responded. “You would perhaps know that had you been there at the time, instead of in the employ of the Sheriff,” he added with a smirk.
Allan’s expression turned sour, and he did not respond. Will gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“There is no need to argue,” Little John spoke up from his place by the fire. “We do not deny anyone offering help.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Robin’s voice cut through the air, and Much turned to see that he and Marian had appeared, holding hands, by the treeline. “We could use all the help we can get.”
Much noted that the pair seemed calm and content, that Robin was smiling in a way he had not seen for a long time. Marian was smiling also, but seemed somewhat apprehensive; as if she was unsure of what their reaction to her reappearance would be, although Will and Djaq had explained the circumstances of her survival. Or perhaps, depending on how much they had heard of the recent conversation, she was concerned that she was creating discord between the gang - he was never quite sure what Marian was thinking.
But if that was the reason she needn’t have worried, for as soon as she was close enough Little John drew her into a fatherly hug, patting her on the back affectionately. Robin moved towards Will and Djaq, embracing them both and exchanging warm words with each of them.
“So, you’re alive then,” Allan said to Marian, once she’d freed herself from Little John.
She took a step towards him and smiled. “That’s right,” she replied simply.
“Hmph.” Allan looked her up and down and then poked her in the shoulder. Much rolled his eyes, but Marian laughed, kissed Allan’s cheek and gave him a hug.
“Satisfied I’m real?”
Allan shrugged, although he seemed genuinely relieved. “Suppose.”
Much climbed down the ladder of his bunk and shifted from one foot to the other anxiously as Marian, finally, approached him. He looked over her shoulder and saw that Robin was engrossed in conversation with Carter and wasn’t paying attention to them.
“Welcome back, Marian,” he told her, unsure of what else he could say - all he could think of was the image of her falling backwards into the sands of Acre, Gisborne’s sword lodged in her belly; of Robin holding her lifeless form in his arms as he wept. It was hard to reconcile that with the woman before him, obviously alive and with no apparent ill-effects from the ordeal.
Much gave her a very brief, awkward hug and then stepped away just as quickly. She gave him a quizzical smile, but then turned around to face the rest of the gang.
“It is good to see you all,” she told them with genuine warmth. “I gather you have met Brother Tuck,” she continued, and the man in question gave a nod of his blonde head.
“Marian has told me all about you,” Robin said, stepping forward and shaking Tuck’s hand enthusiastically. “You are most welcome, Tuck.” He turned around to face the rest of them. “Although of course,” he made a sweeping gesture in their direction. “It is up to the whole gang.”
Allan, for all of his earlier blustering, simply shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Djaq visibly forced a smile and no one else made any protest.
“Excellent.” Robin gave Tuck a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Our ranks have more than doubled,” he added, clearly pleased and Much could see he had that look in his eye which meant he was working on a plan. “That means we can double our efforts against the Sheriff.” Robin rubbed his hands together in obvious glee. “We have a raid planned for a few day’s time,” he continued, “we planned it with just the four of us in mind, small scale really, but maybe now we can plan something better. Something bigger.”
Much had already heard enough. “Robin, they’ve only just arrived,” he reminded him, “and they’ve probably been travelling for weeks. Shouldn’t we at least eat first before we go planning anything?”
The glint in Robin’s eye disappeared and he looked suitably cowed, although his grin did not fade. “Of course you are right, Much.” He went to Marian’s side and took her hand again. “We should celebrate.” He raised it, placing a kiss to her knuckles and Marian, rather uncharacteristically, blushed.
“That’s more like it,” Allan chimed in, clapping his hands and visibly cheering up. “I’ll make a run to the ‘Trip, get us some supplies.” He turned to Will and winked. “Susie owes me a favour.” Will laughed quietly, and Djaq rolled her eyes but was smiling.
“I can check the stores,” Much spoke up, not about to be shown up by Allan. “And the villages - we’ll have a right feast!”
He wasted no time in gathering his pack and setting off - Robin offered to accompany him, but Much could see the way he tightly clasped Marian’s hand and wouldn’t be the one to separate them so soon. Allan set off in the other direction towards Nottingham town with Will, and Much made his way towards their eastern store where he knew he’d stashed some cured pork.
But at the treeline, Much paused and allowed himself a glance back at the camp where the gang and their new members sat around the fire. The sight made him smile, and Much decided he could live with crowded - it was preferable to the emptiness and silence of their camp the past year.
Much felt a surge of hope, as if with her return Marian had brought the promise of justice again, and he made his way through Sherwood happily, singing softly to himself.
Fandom: Robin Hood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Outlaws, Marian, Carter, Guy, Sheriff. Canon pairings
Setting: Post-season 2
Spoilers: 2.13
Summary: They’d saved the King, but had they saved England? An alternate season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the Danny Boyle film, the rest belongs to the BBC
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11 I
Chapter 12: I Think We’re Going to Need a Bigger Camp.
Sherwood Forest
Sherwood was different. The crisp air of late autumn had a bite to it; the few leaves which stubbornly clung to branches were brittle and shades of dull brown, and their numerous brothers carpeted the forest floor. It was not the same greenwood Marian had left, with birdsong in every tree and warm afternoon light filtering through the canopy tinting everything a rich, warm gold.
And of course, the man beside her, a year older - he was different, too.
And yet, it felt right to be with Robin again. Marian was relieved, for she’d been dreading the moment of their reunion ever since they had arrived back in England. If she was honest with herself, she was dreading the moment ever since leaving the Holy Land. So many things could have happened in her absence; Robin could have been captured, or killed, or even worse, moved on. Marian wouldn’t begrudge him finding solace in another, thinking her dead - but she certainly did not want to be confronted by it, or be required to deal with it. Perhaps most of all, she worried that such time and distance would have changed things between them. Had his heart cooled in the year between marriage and reunion - had her own?
But then they had met in the forest, and she had felt her heart leap at the sound of his voice, at the sight of him; dishevelled, thinner, but unmistakeably Robin. He had stared at her for what had felt like a lifetime and she had wanted to run into his arms, tell him how much she had missed him, but had been stopped by his haunted expression. Marian had also been keenly aware of everyone else watching and she wasn’t too pleased about their reunion having an audience. But then Robin had made the first move, crushing her into his embrace, tears wet on her shoulder as his hands clutched the fabric of her cloak and pressed into her back. She had held him in return, moved by such a show of emotion which was so rare for him, as the rest of the gang, thankfully, had moved away.
Eventually, Robin had raised his head, cupped her face in his hands, spoken her name as if it was a prayer, and kissed her soundly. It was not a soft, romantic kiss like they’d often shared in the past, but rather passionate, demanding - almost desperate - the kind of kiss he had only ever given her in the throes of his deepest embrace, when he’d let his desire overwhelm his carefully constructed control. She’d returned the kiss with fervour, feeling truly alive for the first time since she had first awoken in Acre.
He’d led her deeper into the woods, to one of the gang’s back-up hideouts, where they kept supplies and funds in case their first camp was compromised. Marian had been there a few times before; it had been their rendezvous point when she’d been able to break away from the castle, to spend a few quiet hours in his arms, both of them desperately trying to forget the world that was conspiring to keep them apart.
As he had done on those occasions, Robin had concealed the entrance to the small hideaway and lain her cloak down over the dried leaves that covered the earthen floor. When he kissed her again, longing hit Marian deep in her gut, as she realised just how much she had missed him; his touch, his long, nimble fingers, the heat of his skin which almost burned when pressed against her own, the taste of him which was like earth and birch and glory - even the scratch of his beard against her neck. Marian had not allowed herself to feel any longing during their separation, but with his nearness and her lips still burning she suddenly realised how desperately she wanted to be with him.
So she’d drawn him closer and removed his shirt in between kisses, casting it forcefully aside. Usually she had let him take the lead as there was no question he was the more experienced, but she had no desire for romantic preliminaries, not this time, not after an entire year.
Marian pulled him down to the ground with her as she undid the laces on his trousers and he, sensing her intent, pushed up her skirts and ran his fingers over remembered pathways. When he touched her it felt like coming home; like all of her fears and anxieties melted away as he pressed his lips to her neck and she splayed her hands over the tensing muscles in his back as they joined together. Robin whispered love into her ear and Marian had simply held him tighter, allowing herself to be carried away by happiness, desire and above all relief.
Afterwards, Marian had allowed him to hold her, something she’d never before permitted, having always been conscious of time and the need to get back to the castle lest she be missed. She’d told him the story of her survival, Amineh nursing her back to health, finding Will, Djaq and Carter again and coming back to England. She’d left out the part about Richard, thinking it best to wait before burdening him with such news.
Robin lay on his side, head propped up with one arm as he listened to her story intently and, to his credit, did not interrupt. Marian lay on her back, and tilted her head towards him as she recounted her tale, his other hand clasped in hers as she absently played with his fingers.
“And your new friend, Tuck?” Robin queried, once she’d finished. “He’s a Hospitaller.” He did not sound pleased.
“He is a man of God, yes,” she confirmed.
“I have known many who have claimed to be men of God,” Robin told her, squeezing her fingers slightly. “Few truly were.”
“Tuck is a little strange,” she admitted. “But I do not doubt his piety, or conviction.”
“If you’re sure,” he added, then chuckled to himself. “Perhaps some spiritual guidance is just what the lads need.”
Marian did not tell him about Tuck’s strange faith in her. She half believed that Robin would laugh off the idea and whilst she herself did not put any stock in Tuck’s belief that she had some destiny to fulfil, she had no desire to see Robin dismiss it either, for despite herself she would be angry with him and she didn’t want to argue so soon after their reunion.
“It is a miracle you are alive,” Robin was suddenly very serious, and Marian wondered if he was half-reading her thoughts. He unclasped his hand from hers and then rested his palm on her stomach for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths as if trying to build up courage. Then he pushed up the fabric of her blouse to reveal the ugly scar which ran several inches across her belly. “Are you really alright?” he asked, his voice sounding very small as his fingers traced the puckered skin gently.
“Yes,” she assured him. Robin pushed her blouse up further to reveal the other scar higher up on her torso, smaller, but still noticeable against her pale skin.
“Djaq says neither of them will ever heal completely,” Marian told him softly, looking at him as his gaze was fixed on the visual sign of their separation. “But perhaps it’s meant to be that way,” she continued when he did not answer. “As a reminder.”
She lifted her hand to his chest and ran her fingers over his own scar, stark against his side even after three years. It made her feel closer to him, their matching pair of wounds both received saving the life of the King, a visible sign of their sacrifice.
But Robin brushed her hand away and covered his scar with his palm. He had never liked her seeing it, and in fact had always tried to keep it covered when they’d been together. Marian knew that it was because he also saw his scars as a reminder, but one of failure. Robin had never been content with simply being the best at anything he did - he demanded perfection. Success over others was of little consequence to him; it was success over himself that he cared about. And so for an enemy to get close enough to wound him, penetrate his skin, was galling, with a scar being a permanent reminder of that perceived failure.
Marian, on the other hand, wore her scars proudly.
“Tell me what has been happening here,” she changed the subject purposefully and smoothed her blouse back down.
This seemed to work, as Robin shook off his melancholy and proceeded to enthusiastically tell her about the changes the gang had implemented in her absence. She was surprised, but pleased, to learn of their new brand of collective leadership.
“Every man has his say,” he explained with obvious pride, “and each voice is worth the same as another.”
“I never thought I would see Robin Hood deferring authority,” she teased him, her heart feeling light to do so again.
“I’ve changed, Marian,” he told her earnestly. “You would be proud of me.”
She smiled, touched that he would even admit such a thing. “I am glad that things are going well here.”
They lay without speaking for a few minutes, Robin seemingly content as he gazed at her, softly stroking her hair that fell about her shoulders, every so often twining his fingers around the loose curls. Marian used to comfortable silence to build up the courage to say perhaps the one thing she knew would dampen his mood.
“Robin, I have to ask,” she said eventually, took his hand and squeezed it gently. “You didn’t….have you….” She cleared her throat. “Is Gisborne still alive?”
The effect was instant - Robin withdrew his hand and frowned down at her. “And if he wasn’t?” he asked her shortly. “Would you care?”
Marian felt uneasy; Guy had always been a sore spot with Robin, and he had never really understood that she had seen something good in him. Robin saw only a murderer when he looked at Guy - Marian saw a tormented soul that had desperately reached out to hers. And she had lied to him, deceived him and used him for her own ends. There was a certain amount of guilt she felt about Guy, and she could never absolve herself of it knowing that Robin had killed him in her name.
She shifted onto her side so that she could face him better, and reached up to tenderly brush the hair back from his eyes. “You do not kill, Robin,” he told him softly. “So yes, I would care.”
Robin looked at her for a few long moments, as if searching for something in her eyes. He had given her the same look before, whenever he had been particularly jealous, or anxious about her feelings. Almost as if he expected her to announce a sudden passionate love for Guy at any moment and abandon him. Perhaps before, she had understood such uneasiness, but now felt as if they had moved beyond that. Hadn’t she married him, twice, in the Holy Land? But she didn’t voice those thoughts and instead held his gaze, trying to convey the security of the love she felt for him.
“He’s alive,” Robin said eventually, breaking eye contact and casting his gaze downward. Marian breathed a sigh of relief, something which clearly did not escape Robin’s notice. “But it’s not just my soul you’re concerned about,” he questioned, searching her face again. “Is it?” he queried.
She gave no answer, which he took as confirmation, and gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “The man ran you through with a sword, Marian,” he reminded her bitterly. “You were between him and the King, and so he disposed of you.”
“That’s not what happened,” she insisted. “I taunted him,” she tried to explain, wanting him to understand. “I knew I couldn’t challenge him physically, and I had no weapon - so I had to improvise.”
Robin furrowed his brow, looking perturbed. “What did you say?”
“I…” she paused, but decided that the truth was the only option. “I told him…that I would rather die than be with him. That I was going to marry you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “That I loved you.”
Robin seemed somewhat mollified, and visibly clamped down on a smile. “Why in the King’s name did you tell him that?” he asked, but his tone was lighter.
Marian shrugged, although she had replayed the events in her mind many times and had no doubt about her motivations.
“Because I knew that’s what would hurt him the most,” she explained. That had been her main goal, to disarm him with painful words if she could not disarm him physically. And yet she also remembered the exhilaration of speaking them and knowing, for the first time and without doubts, her own mind. “But also because it is the truth,” Marian continued and took his face in both of her hands. “I do love you, Robin.”
Robin smiled with visible joy and perhaps a bit of relief. “I love you, too,” he told her, then leaned forward and kissed her gently.
He pulled her closer and her arms went around his neck, allowing herself to be drawn into his embrace. It was just like she remembered; warmth blossoming in her heart like the first day of spring after a cold and bitter winter. She had been so aware of herself on the journey back to England, feeling the scrutiny of the others keenly. It was such a relief to simply let go of any pretence, to lose herself in Robin’s arms.
He began to kiss her neck, and she arched into him, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His grip on her was so tight it was as if he felt she would slip away, but she didn’t protest.
“I love you so much,” he murmured, breath hot against her skin.
She lifted his head again, not willing to settle for just his embrace. “Show me,” she demanded, and pressed her lips to his.
Later, she lay with her head resting on his chest, listening to his even breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart. Sooner or later they would have to return to the gang, but for one brief moment she could pretend that she was simply a woman in the arms of her lover, without the worry of feeding the poor and fighting the Sheriff. One moment, she would allow herself, and no more.
“It was a stupid thing to tell him,” Robin’s voice broke through her reverie.
“What?” Marian asked. She was slightly drowsy and had in fact thought Robin was asleep himself. But it appeared he had been running their earlier conversation over in his mind.
“Gisborne,” he clarified. “Telling him what you did.”
She shifted slightly in his arms, turning over and resting one arm across his chest and then perching her chin atop her wrist. “Why?”
“Why?” he mimicked her. “Because he stabbed you, that’s why!”
“It worked though, didn’t it,” she shrugged. “He didn’t kill Richard.”
“He killed you!”
She sighed and sat up, irritated, tossing her hair over her shoulder and regarding him for several moments. “I had to do something. How many times have you put yourself in danger, thrown yourself into almost certain death to save another’s life?”
“That’s different.” He sat up, scowling.
“I see,” she replied with sarcasm. “Because you’re Robin Hood.”
“Because I didn’t die,” he insisted.
Suddenly she found the situation rather amusing. “Neither did I,” she reminded him, almost laughing. “And you’ve just been lucky that there’s always someone there to save you with a distraction.” She poked him playfully in the ribs, hoping that he would see how ridiculous he was being and laugh about it with her.
But he remained stony-faced. “No you didn’t die,” he agreed. “But you certainly gave a very good impression of it this past year.”
Marian was somewhat taken aback. “You’re…angry at me for not returning sooner?” she asked him incredulously.
He lowered his gaze, and his hair fell into his eyes. “No, of course not.” But his tone was not convincing.
She retreated from him slightly, rearranging her skirts under her legs in irritation. “It is not as if I just picked myself up, dusted myself off and carried on, Robin,” she told him sharply. “It was weeks before I’d even regained consciousness. And after that my recovery was very slow. I was not fit to travel.”
He nodded but did not reply and did not again raise his eyes to meet hers.
“And I was trying to further the cause for peace,” she continued, somewhat peeved at him for making her explain, and at herself for feeling as if she needed to. “You of all people should understand that.”
“I do,” he said very quietly. She almost informed him that she had, in fact, been able to persuade the King to return when he had not, but stopped herself when he finally looked up at her. His eyes were shadowed, and for the first time she noticed the dark rims under them, the lines of worry and stress that had not been present a year earlier. Clearly her absence had had a profound effect on him, far more than she had realised or wanted to think about.
Robin shifted closer to her and cupped her face with one hand, his thumb stroking her cheek tenderly. “I have just missed you,” he told her, his voice pained. “I haven’t felt like myself without you.”
She was touched by his honesty and his plain, open emotion. Very rarely had he been so with her, his true feelings always hidden in jest or painful, clumsy metaphors. He had always known how to charm women, and in her youth she had been no exception, but it had mostly been bravado. Fine, passionate words came easily to him when it was all for show; his true thoughts he had always kept to himself.
And even after they’d found a way back to each other, declarations of love had always been forced out of him in an emotionally fuelled moment; her asking him to spare Allan’s life, his apprehensive proposal over a freshly-dug grave, those harrowing moments in the tree with Sheriff’s men below them.
But the raw pain she saw plainly etched across his face was new to her; like a glimpse into his soul that he had never been truly willing to show her before. She had known that he would grieve for her, miss her, but she hadn’t realised to what extent. His anguished words in the sands of the Holy Land came back to her - I can’t fight without you. Marian had never considered them to be anything more than an exaggeration in a moment of distress, but it seemed clear there was at least some truth in them.
“I’m here now,” Marian told him, and took his hand from her check, holding it in both of hers. “I’m here.” She knew that she could not put off her bad news any longer. “And I need to tell you something - about the King.”
Marian proceeded to fill him in on all the details, the peace accord, the King’s capture and their visit to Bavaria, her suspicions that it was all the Sheriff’s doing. He listened intently, but without reaction. When she finally finished she waited with trepidation for him to become impassioned, begin making plans to travel to Austria and rescue the King at any cost. Now that she was back in England she had no desire to leave again, but knew how dearly Robin loved Richard and how seriously he took his role as his protector.
Instead Robin was silent for a long time, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the information.
“This is troubling news,” he said finally. “No doubt the Sheriff plans to announce it with the next tax increase - we must be ready to increase our deliveries.”
It was certainly not the reaction she had been expecting. “You…you don’t want to mount a rescue attempt?” she queried after a few stunned moments.
Robin was silent for a few more moments, clearly having trouble with his decision, but eventually sighed in resignation. “Richard must look to God for protection, now,” he replied, albeit with obvious discomfort. “We need to focus on the people we can help here.”
She apprised him thoughtfully. “You have changed.”
“He strung us up in the desert, Marian,” his voice was pained. “After all of my love and service, he just…left us to die.” He shook his head slightly, as if he still could not believe it. “He is my King and I have sworn to serve him unto death” he added. “If he asked it of me, of course I would go.”
Robin paused and took her hand again, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “But he sent you back to me. Our place is here - together.”
*********
Outlaw’s Camp
“I think we’re going to need a bigger camp.”
Much looked around their small abode and counted the bunks. Six, although two were currently unoccupied. He counted the people around the camp; himself sitting on his own bunk, Will and Djaq settling their belongings back in their old places while Allan hovered around them excitedly, Little John and Carter warming themselves by the fire and Tuck examining the hidden lever in the rockface with interest. Plus Robin and Marian, wherever they were enjoying their reunion.
Nine.
They’d lived in close enough quarters with six people, and Much remembered how crowded it had seemed those few weeks Marian had lived with them the last time. Although, most of the discomfort was due to Robin and Marian’s constant bickering, which had made all of them uneasy and looking to escape the confines of camp. Still, three extra people on top of that was going to be a challenge. Robin and Marian could share a bunk, he decided, as they had done before, and probably Will and Djaq, but in any event they would need more room.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Will spoke up and looked around the camp himself. Much could almost see the cogs turning in his mind, examining the space and dimensions with his carpenter’s mind. “I have a few ideas.”
“Until then, as they newest member of your band I am happy to sleep on the floor,” Tuck spoke up in dulcet tones. Other than his initial thanks when Much had greeted him, they were the first words he had spoken.
“Steady on, mate,” Allan said with a chuckle. “Who exactly are you again? I don’t remember anyone inviting you into the gang.”
Much noticed Djaq purse her lips ever so slightly, and took note of the fact that she did not particularly care for this Tuck person. As for Tuck himself, he seemed unperturbed. “The Lady Marian has invited me,” he replied simply.
“Did she now?” Allan asked sceptically. “Well, Marian’s not exactly part of the gang either, is she?”
“Shut up, Allan,” Much told him crossly. “Of course Marian’s part of the gang!” A year earlier, Much had barely been able to admit that Marian was “sort of” a member of the gang. But her return changed everything and Much would not allow a word against her.
“Blimey, and so it starts,” Allan rolled his eyes dramatically. “She gets to invite whoever she wants, now? Don’t I get a veto power or somethin’?”
“Do you object to my being here?” Tuck queried.
“No offence, mate,” Allan shrugged. “But we all know each other. Who are you? No idea.”
“I can vouch for Tuck,” Carter spoke up calmly. “He can be trusted.”
“Says the man who once tried to kill Robin,” Allan pointed out. “And you’re not part of the gang, either, you don’t get a say.”
“Robin asked me to join the last time I was here,” Carter responded. “You would perhaps know that had you been there at the time, instead of in the employ of the Sheriff,” he added with a smirk.
Allan’s expression turned sour, and he did not respond. Will gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“There is no need to argue,” Little John spoke up from his place by the fire. “We do not deny anyone offering help.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Robin’s voice cut through the air, and Much turned to see that he and Marian had appeared, holding hands, by the treeline. “We could use all the help we can get.”
Much noted that the pair seemed calm and content, that Robin was smiling in a way he had not seen for a long time. Marian was smiling also, but seemed somewhat apprehensive; as if she was unsure of what their reaction to her reappearance would be, although Will and Djaq had explained the circumstances of her survival. Or perhaps, depending on how much they had heard of the recent conversation, she was concerned that she was creating discord between the gang - he was never quite sure what Marian was thinking.
But if that was the reason she needn’t have worried, for as soon as she was close enough Little John drew her into a fatherly hug, patting her on the back affectionately. Robin moved towards Will and Djaq, embracing them both and exchanging warm words with each of them.
“So, you’re alive then,” Allan said to Marian, once she’d freed herself from Little John.
She took a step towards him and smiled. “That’s right,” she replied simply.
“Hmph.” Allan looked her up and down and then poked her in the shoulder. Much rolled his eyes, but Marian laughed, kissed Allan’s cheek and gave him a hug.
“Satisfied I’m real?”
Allan shrugged, although he seemed genuinely relieved. “Suppose.”
Much climbed down the ladder of his bunk and shifted from one foot to the other anxiously as Marian, finally, approached him. He looked over her shoulder and saw that Robin was engrossed in conversation with Carter and wasn’t paying attention to them.
“Welcome back, Marian,” he told her, unsure of what else he could say - all he could think of was the image of her falling backwards into the sands of Acre, Gisborne’s sword lodged in her belly; of Robin holding her lifeless form in his arms as he wept. It was hard to reconcile that with the woman before him, obviously alive and with no apparent ill-effects from the ordeal.
Much gave her a very brief, awkward hug and then stepped away just as quickly. She gave him a quizzical smile, but then turned around to face the rest of the gang.
“It is good to see you all,” she told them with genuine warmth. “I gather you have met Brother Tuck,” she continued, and the man in question gave a nod of his blonde head.
“Marian has told me all about you,” Robin said, stepping forward and shaking Tuck’s hand enthusiastically. “You are most welcome, Tuck.” He turned around to face the rest of them. “Although of course,” he made a sweeping gesture in their direction. “It is up to the whole gang.”
Allan, for all of his earlier blustering, simply shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Djaq visibly forced a smile and no one else made any protest.
“Excellent.” Robin gave Tuck a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Our ranks have more than doubled,” he added, clearly pleased and Much could see he had that look in his eye which meant he was working on a plan. “That means we can double our efforts against the Sheriff.” Robin rubbed his hands together in obvious glee. “We have a raid planned for a few day’s time,” he continued, “we planned it with just the four of us in mind, small scale really, but maybe now we can plan something better. Something bigger.”
Much had already heard enough. “Robin, they’ve only just arrived,” he reminded him, “and they’ve probably been travelling for weeks. Shouldn’t we at least eat first before we go planning anything?”
The glint in Robin’s eye disappeared and he looked suitably cowed, although his grin did not fade. “Of course you are right, Much.” He went to Marian’s side and took her hand again. “We should celebrate.” He raised it, placing a kiss to her knuckles and Marian, rather uncharacteristically, blushed.
“That’s more like it,” Allan chimed in, clapping his hands and visibly cheering up. “I’ll make a run to the ‘Trip, get us some supplies.” He turned to Will and winked. “Susie owes me a favour.” Will laughed quietly, and Djaq rolled her eyes but was smiling.
“I can check the stores,” Much spoke up, not about to be shown up by Allan. “And the villages - we’ll have a right feast!”
He wasted no time in gathering his pack and setting off - Robin offered to accompany him, but Much could see the way he tightly clasped Marian’s hand and wouldn’t be the one to separate them so soon. Allan set off in the other direction towards Nottingham town with Will, and Much made his way towards their eastern store where he knew he’d stashed some cured pork.
But at the treeline, Much paused and allowed himself a glance back at the camp where the gang and their new members sat around the fire. The sight made him smile, and Much decided he could live with crowded - it was preferable to the emptiness and silence of their camp the past year.
Much felt a surge of hope, as if with her return Marian had brought the promise of justice again, and he made his way through Sherwood happily, singing softly to himself.