The Force of Destiny, Chapter 23
Original Post
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Robin/Marian, Much/Eve, Djaq, the Outlaws
Word count: 1963
Spoilers: While this alters the end of S2, there are still minor spoilers for the whole run of the show, including S3.
Summary: Eve and Marian, especially, reel from the sheriff's actions.
Disclaimer: While these characters live on in my mind, I have neither rights to nor profits from them, or anything else related to the show.
previous chapter
-23-
In the sheriff’s chambers, it was a solemn bunch who picked at the food brought up from the kitchens.
Carter pushed his plate away after only a couple of bites and stood. “I’ll go back to camp and give Sakina the news, and gather what we will need.”
“Should the children really be here?” Alice asked. Everyone exchanged lost glances. “I suppose it’ll be best if we’re all in one place,” she sighed, answering herself. She understood her son’s aversion to the castle, sharing it herself after their imprisonment a year and a half earlier, but it would not do for the gang to be spread out while their leader fought for his life.
Little John had been standing beside her chair. His arm went around her shoulders, and he gave her a light squeeze. She smiled gratefully up at him.
“I’ll be off, then,” Carter murmured.
After he took his leave, the remaining group fell silent once more.
“He is going to make it, right?” Kate posed the question on everyone’s mind.
No one was brave enough to guess. Eventually, Will said, “Djaq’s doing everything she can to help, and Matilda will probably know of more steps to take.”
“I have seen men survive worse,” Richard assured them. He decided not to dwell on the knowledge that he had also seen men succumb to less.
The soldiers in the room heard the unspoken addendum, but also tried to ignore it.
“He survived that stab wound in the Holy Land,” Allan said without thinking, instantly regretting the statement when it was drew everybody’s minds to the fact that Guy had dealt Robin the injury. “Sorry, Guy; I didn’t mean--”
“Never mind,” Guy shook his head. “What’s done is done. I cannot take it back.”
“We all have things we regret,” Tuck put in. “All we can do is make amends and move forward.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgement.
“Besides,” Guy said, a touch of dark humor in his voice, “if anyone should regret things, it should be you, Allan.”
“Hey, now; that’s not fair,” Allan protested. A burst of conversation broke out, everyone glad for the distraction; but Kate noticed that Eve was not joining in, merely sitting quietly, looking rather ill.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Eve glanced up at her. “No, it’s just... all the talk of regret...” She trailed off as her words carried.
The taunt Vaizey had hurled at Much came back to them all at once, and everyone stared at her in shock. “Ah, my delightful, devious Eve, all good and noble now. Tell me, Much, have you figured out how to get her to make that little... mewling... sound yet?”
“Oh, my God,” Meg breathed.
Will paled. “Please tell me he was making that up.”
Eve met Guy’s gaze, the only one in the room with any sympathy. Then, looking back at Will, she weakly said, “I wish I could.”
“Does Much know?” Allan demanded.
The accusation from someone who had turned traitor on the outlaws, rather than turned honest because of them as she had been, turned her embarrassment into ire. “He does now, doesn’t he? You, of all people, should know that it is not that simple to tell the sheriff ‘no.’”
Angry on behalf of his friend, Allan snapped, “I haven’t lied about what I did.”
Humiliated, Eve cried, “He never ordered you into his bed!”
Her exclamation echoed off the stone walls of the chamber, made more unnerving by the presence of the imposing piece of furniture at the other end of the room.
Drained of any pride, she added miserably, “How could I possibly have admitted to that?”
Nobody had an answer.
With a teary curse, she fled the room.
* * * * *
“How long will he sleep?” Much finally asked Djaq.
“There is no way to tell,” she sighed, settling back into an armchair near the cold hearth. “It is to his benefit to rest now.”
Marian gently smoothed Robin’s hair back, running her fingers through the curls behind his ears.
“We should have known,” Much muttered. “We should’ve known that the sheriff would try something.”
He half-expected Djaq to tell him to hush, but instead, she agreed. “After all of this time, yes; we should have planned for it.” He glanced at her in surprise, and she gave him a strained smile.
“If I had not been so foolish in my attempt to kill him last year, I might have succeeded, and none of this would have happened,” Marian whispered desolately.
“If we had not all gone haring off after the queen, maybe some of us could have helped you,” Djaq noted. “But, we did. And you grabbed an opportunity that turned out not to be successful. And we did not plan correctly for the confrontation today. We cannot take it back; we must deal with the consequences and hope for the best.”
Just then, Robin hacked again, gasping against the warring impulses in his chest; he needed to draw in air, but the coughs expelled the little he was able to inhale. The sensation of smothering woke him suddenly, the icy fire that started in his chest and spread down his arms and through his back hitting him unawares as his eyes flew open. He was completely disoriented, and instinctively tried to sit up.
Marian nearly jumped out of her skin when he came to with no warning, and she did her best to gently push him back down when he attempted to rise. He struggled against her without knowing what he was doing, and Much stepped up to restrain him.
“Robin, stop it,” Marian commanded sternly, catching his attention. His eyes flew to hers, a wild gaze meeting a steady one. As he settled, his forehead furrowed.
“Marian?” he rasped, wondering why he could not breathe and why he hurt so badly. He glanced to Much, who was still carefully holding his arms down, and understood that he needed to still. But, he could not breathe even when he laid back. “What’s... happening?
Marian almost wept with relief to hear his voice, strained and weak as it was. Forcing herself to stay collected, she gently responded, “The sheriff shot you. Do you remember?”
He was blank for a second, but then it came back to him in a rush. “The... king?”
“Is fine.” When he looked as though he was about to ask another question, she added, “And the sheriff is dead. Guy killed him.”
Robin relaxed subtly, although strain was still etched across his face as he fought the agony, the tension fairly radiating off of him. Much let go, but remained where he stood.
His friend’s worried expression resigned Robin. “Am... I...dy--”
“No,” Marian said firmly, not letting him finish the sentence.
He saw the fear lurking in her gaze, and regret flooded through him. “I--” He was cut off by another jolt of unthinkable pain, his words becoming a cry as his back arched against the sensation.
Sharply, Djaq said to Much, “Hold him down again. Do not let him move.”
Marian was holding his face, murmuring nonsensical things in an attempt to soothe him. He gasped desperately, grabbing one of her hands and staring at her as he tried to get through the attack.
Djaq mixed a handful of herbs into a cup of wine, and brought it over. “Drink this,” she instructed, holding his head up and carefully tipping the cup so that he could.
He drank deeply, made thirsty by his wound. When he was finished and Djaq helped him rest his head back down, he realized it had tasted strange. “What’s... in that?”
“Something to help with the pain, and something to help you sleep.”
Normally, he would be upset at having been drugged, but unconsciousness sounded like an excellent idea just then. He became conscious of the fact that he was clutching Marian’s hand so tightly, he had to be hurting her. Easing his grip, he started to apologize, but she shook her head.
“It’s fine,” she whispered, having leant her head down beside his. “Do not worry.”
He could feel the effects of Djaq’s concoction begin to take hold; the pain was still there, but without the murderous edge, and his fingers, toes and face were starting to feel fuzzy, as if he had had too much to drink.
His mind was also feeling fuzzy. He was being pulled down into slumber, but needed to tell her something first. “I... I l...”
“Shh, my love,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as she rubbed her thumb across his fingers where they still held hands, stroking his hair with her other hand.
No, he could not hush; he needed to tell her. “Love you,” he managed, before succumbing to the draught.
Marian stared at his now-sleeping form. Oh, blast. Her eyes were welling up again, and she quickly stood, stumbling when her head swam. Much steadied her with a hand on her elbow, giving her an understanding nod when she looked up at him. Now having her footing, she mumbled, “I need air,” and rushed out of the chamber before anyone responded.
She stumbled down the corridor toward the castle entrance, tears blinding her so that she almost ran directly into Eve, also crying and moving in the opposite direction.
The two women exchanged startled looks, the oddness of the situation distracting both from their grief-filled thoughts.
Suddenly, Eve’s expression turned horrified. “Oh, no. Is Robin--”
“No!” Marian exclaimed. “No,” she repeated, more softly.
“Thank God.”
Studying Eve’s miserable face, Marian inquired, “What’s wrong?”
Not wishing to add to her friend’s worry, Eve shook her head. “It is nothing.” But even her ability to dissemble failed her then.
“Come here.” Marian moved to sit on the corridor’s wall, within one of the arches open to the courtyard. She patted the stone beside her, and Eve followed the direction after a slight hesitation.
“I will not burden you,” she insisted.
“To be frank, I could use a distraction,” admitted Marian.
Not expecting that answer, Eve nonetheless acquiesced. “Very well. I expect that you’ve forgotten what the sheriff said before-- well, before.”
Marian tried to remember, but could not. “I’m sorry; what was it?”
Eve turned her face away before answering, too ashamed to maintain even peripheral eye contact. “He told Much-- and everyone else-- that he bedded me.”
That rang a vague bell in Marian’s memory. Evenly, she asked, “And was it true?”
With a sob, Eve nodded, her head hanging so low that her chin nearly touched her chest.
“Oh.”
“I hadn’t said anything to Much, because what could I say? ‘I love you. Of course, I will marry you. Oh, and by the way, I have lain with the most evil man in England’?” Marian had absolutely no idea what to say to that, but was spared having to concoct something when Eve suddenly looked up at her. “How is he?”
It took Marian a moment to realize that she meant Much. “He’s as well as can be expected. He has actually been quite calm, all things considered.”
Eve mused over her next words before speaking them. “He’s not... he does not seem upset? I mean, moreso than should be expected?”
“No.”
In a small voice, Eve said, “What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”
"I am certain that's not the case." Marian got to her feet. “You should talk to him. Robin’s sleeping at the moment, and he could use a break, I think.”
“I’m afraid of what he will say,” Eve admitted.
“Better to find out now, than stew in that fear,” advised Marian. She took Eve’s elbow, and the two women walked slowly back toward the sickroom.
next chapter
*
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Robin/Marian, Much/Eve, Djaq, the Outlaws
Word count: 1963
Spoilers: While this alters the end of S2, there are still minor spoilers for the whole run of the show, including S3.
Summary: Eve and Marian, especially, reel from the sheriff's actions.
Disclaimer: While these characters live on in my mind, I have neither rights to nor profits from them, or anything else related to the show.
previous chapter
-23-
In the sheriff’s chambers, it was a solemn bunch who picked at the food brought up from the kitchens.
Carter pushed his plate away after only a couple of bites and stood. “I’ll go back to camp and give Sakina the news, and gather what we will need.”
“Should the children really be here?” Alice asked. Everyone exchanged lost glances. “I suppose it’ll be best if we’re all in one place,” she sighed, answering herself. She understood her son’s aversion to the castle, sharing it herself after their imprisonment a year and a half earlier, but it would not do for the gang to be spread out while their leader fought for his life.
Little John had been standing beside her chair. His arm went around her shoulders, and he gave her a light squeeze. She smiled gratefully up at him.
“I’ll be off, then,” Carter murmured.
After he took his leave, the remaining group fell silent once more.
“He is going to make it, right?” Kate posed the question on everyone’s mind.
No one was brave enough to guess. Eventually, Will said, “Djaq’s doing everything she can to help, and Matilda will probably know of more steps to take.”
“I have seen men survive worse,” Richard assured them. He decided not to dwell on the knowledge that he had also seen men succumb to less.
The soldiers in the room heard the unspoken addendum, but also tried to ignore it.
“He survived that stab wound in the Holy Land,” Allan said without thinking, instantly regretting the statement when it was drew everybody’s minds to the fact that Guy had dealt Robin the injury. “Sorry, Guy; I didn’t mean--”
“Never mind,” Guy shook his head. “What’s done is done. I cannot take it back.”
“We all have things we regret,” Tuck put in. “All we can do is make amends and move forward.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgement.
“Besides,” Guy said, a touch of dark humor in his voice, “if anyone should regret things, it should be you, Allan.”
“Hey, now; that’s not fair,” Allan protested. A burst of conversation broke out, everyone glad for the distraction; but Kate noticed that Eve was not joining in, merely sitting quietly, looking rather ill.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Eve glanced up at her. “No, it’s just... all the talk of regret...” She trailed off as her words carried.
The taunt Vaizey had hurled at Much came back to them all at once, and everyone stared at her in shock. “Ah, my delightful, devious Eve, all good and noble now. Tell me, Much, have you figured out how to get her to make that little... mewling... sound yet?”
“Oh, my God,” Meg breathed.
Will paled. “Please tell me he was making that up.”
Eve met Guy’s gaze, the only one in the room with any sympathy. Then, looking back at Will, she weakly said, “I wish I could.”
“Does Much know?” Allan demanded.
The accusation from someone who had turned traitor on the outlaws, rather than turned honest because of them as she had been, turned her embarrassment into ire. “He does now, doesn’t he? You, of all people, should know that it is not that simple to tell the sheriff ‘no.’”
Angry on behalf of his friend, Allan snapped, “I haven’t lied about what I did.”
Humiliated, Eve cried, “He never ordered you into his bed!”
Her exclamation echoed off the stone walls of the chamber, made more unnerving by the presence of the imposing piece of furniture at the other end of the room.
Drained of any pride, she added miserably, “How could I possibly have admitted to that?”
Nobody had an answer.
With a teary curse, she fled the room.
* * * * *
“How long will he sleep?” Much finally asked Djaq.
“There is no way to tell,” she sighed, settling back into an armchair near the cold hearth. “It is to his benefit to rest now.”
Marian gently smoothed Robin’s hair back, running her fingers through the curls behind his ears.
“We should have known,” Much muttered. “We should’ve known that the sheriff would try something.”
He half-expected Djaq to tell him to hush, but instead, she agreed. “After all of this time, yes; we should have planned for it.” He glanced at her in surprise, and she gave him a strained smile.
“If I had not been so foolish in my attempt to kill him last year, I might have succeeded, and none of this would have happened,” Marian whispered desolately.
“If we had not all gone haring off after the queen, maybe some of us could have helped you,” Djaq noted. “But, we did. And you grabbed an opportunity that turned out not to be successful. And we did not plan correctly for the confrontation today. We cannot take it back; we must deal with the consequences and hope for the best.”
Just then, Robin hacked again, gasping against the warring impulses in his chest; he needed to draw in air, but the coughs expelled the little he was able to inhale. The sensation of smothering woke him suddenly, the icy fire that started in his chest and spread down his arms and through his back hitting him unawares as his eyes flew open. He was completely disoriented, and instinctively tried to sit up.
Marian nearly jumped out of her skin when he came to with no warning, and she did her best to gently push him back down when he attempted to rise. He struggled against her without knowing what he was doing, and Much stepped up to restrain him.
“Robin, stop it,” Marian commanded sternly, catching his attention. His eyes flew to hers, a wild gaze meeting a steady one. As he settled, his forehead furrowed.
“Marian?” he rasped, wondering why he could not breathe and why he hurt so badly. He glanced to Much, who was still carefully holding his arms down, and understood that he needed to still. But, he could not breathe even when he laid back. “What’s... happening?
Marian almost wept with relief to hear his voice, strained and weak as it was. Forcing herself to stay collected, she gently responded, “The sheriff shot you. Do you remember?”
He was blank for a second, but then it came back to him in a rush. “The... king?”
“Is fine.” When he looked as though he was about to ask another question, she added, “And the sheriff is dead. Guy killed him.”
Robin relaxed subtly, although strain was still etched across his face as he fought the agony, the tension fairly radiating off of him. Much let go, but remained where he stood.
His friend’s worried expression resigned Robin. “Am... I...dy--”
“No,” Marian said firmly, not letting him finish the sentence.
He saw the fear lurking in her gaze, and regret flooded through him. “I--” He was cut off by another jolt of unthinkable pain, his words becoming a cry as his back arched against the sensation.
Sharply, Djaq said to Much, “Hold him down again. Do not let him move.”
Marian was holding his face, murmuring nonsensical things in an attempt to soothe him. He gasped desperately, grabbing one of her hands and staring at her as he tried to get through the attack.
Djaq mixed a handful of herbs into a cup of wine, and brought it over. “Drink this,” she instructed, holding his head up and carefully tipping the cup so that he could.
He drank deeply, made thirsty by his wound. When he was finished and Djaq helped him rest his head back down, he realized it had tasted strange. “What’s... in that?”
“Something to help with the pain, and something to help you sleep.”
Normally, he would be upset at having been drugged, but unconsciousness sounded like an excellent idea just then. He became conscious of the fact that he was clutching Marian’s hand so tightly, he had to be hurting her. Easing his grip, he started to apologize, but she shook her head.
“It’s fine,” she whispered, having leant her head down beside his. “Do not worry.”
He could feel the effects of Djaq’s concoction begin to take hold; the pain was still there, but without the murderous edge, and his fingers, toes and face were starting to feel fuzzy, as if he had had too much to drink.
His mind was also feeling fuzzy. He was being pulled down into slumber, but needed to tell her something first. “I... I l...”
“Shh, my love,” she murmured, kissing his forehead as she rubbed her thumb across his fingers where they still held hands, stroking his hair with her other hand.
No, he could not hush; he needed to tell her. “Love you,” he managed, before succumbing to the draught.
Marian stared at his now-sleeping form. Oh, blast. Her eyes were welling up again, and she quickly stood, stumbling when her head swam. Much steadied her with a hand on her elbow, giving her an understanding nod when she looked up at him. Now having her footing, she mumbled, “I need air,” and rushed out of the chamber before anyone responded.
She stumbled down the corridor toward the castle entrance, tears blinding her so that she almost ran directly into Eve, also crying and moving in the opposite direction.
The two women exchanged startled looks, the oddness of the situation distracting both from their grief-filled thoughts.
Suddenly, Eve’s expression turned horrified. “Oh, no. Is Robin--”
“No!” Marian exclaimed. “No,” she repeated, more softly.
“Thank God.”
Studying Eve’s miserable face, Marian inquired, “What’s wrong?”
Not wishing to add to her friend’s worry, Eve shook her head. “It is nothing.” But even her ability to dissemble failed her then.
“Come here.” Marian moved to sit on the corridor’s wall, within one of the arches open to the courtyard. She patted the stone beside her, and Eve followed the direction after a slight hesitation.
“I will not burden you,” she insisted.
“To be frank, I could use a distraction,” admitted Marian.
Not expecting that answer, Eve nonetheless acquiesced. “Very well. I expect that you’ve forgotten what the sheriff said before-- well, before.”
Marian tried to remember, but could not. “I’m sorry; what was it?”
Eve turned her face away before answering, too ashamed to maintain even peripheral eye contact. “He told Much-- and everyone else-- that he bedded me.”
That rang a vague bell in Marian’s memory. Evenly, she asked, “And was it true?”
With a sob, Eve nodded, her head hanging so low that her chin nearly touched her chest.
“Oh.”
“I hadn’t said anything to Much, because what could I say? ‘I love you. Of course, I will marry you. Oh, and by the way, I have lain with the most evil man in England’?” Marian had absolutely no idea what to say to that, but was spared having to concoct something when Eve suddenly looked up at her. “How is he?”
It took Marian a moment to realize that she meant Much. “He’s as well as can be expected. He has actually been quite calm, all things considered.”
Eve mused over her next words before speaking them. “He’s not... he does not seem upset? I mean, moreso than should be expected?”
“No.”
In a small voice, Eve said, “What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”
"I am certain that's not the case." Marian got to her feet. “You should talk to him. Robin’s sleeping at the moment, and he could use a break, I think.”
“I’m afraid of what he will say,” Eve admitted.
“Better to find out now, than stew in that fear,” advised Marian. She took Eve’s elbow, and the two women walked slowly back toward the sickroom.
next chapter
*