fic: At the End of Our Days (2/2)
Title: At the End of Our Days (2/2)
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, Robin, the Gang, OCs
Genre: angst, romance, slash, character death (agh!)
Words: 4947
Summary: Still in DeNile: Carter (as we recall) survived Vaisey's attack in 2x13. He & Much made a life for themselves in Bonchurch. Approx. 20 years after the gang rescued King Richard from captivity in Bavaria (in For King and Country where I ignored the historical record), Carter lay dying and Much has taken it upon himself to ensure that Carter's estranged family knows the heroic story of the man he loves.
A/N1: One small section from pt. 1 of this story (180 words--same title) was published on treatmuchright for the Lent 2009 ficathon.
A/N2: If you haven't read Carter's family history I concocted in ch. 3 of For King and Country, then the OCs in this fic may make you do a double-take.
A/N3: The last paragraph was written in collaboration with darkentwisted as a precursor to his Trevena story.
Many thanks to darkentwisted for doing the beta for pt. 2. His feedback is Much, er, much appreciated.
Part 1 is here
>->------------>>
At the End of Our Days, pt. 2
Robin eyed the target and let loose an arrow. Hit dead center, as usual. Two children watched from the fence and applauded loudly. The archer bowed for the appreciative young crowd. Though he moved a bit slower these days, the lord of Locksley still looked as fit as the day he and Much left to join King Richard's Crusades. "When do you expect them?"
Much took his shot. It landed several centimeters to the left of center. "Agh!" he shouted, dropping his bow and rubbing his aching fingers. "Perhaps today. Maybe tomorrow. None too soon, I fear."
Robin shooed the children away then placed a hand on Much's arm. "How are you, old friend?"
Much's lips trembled. "I miss Carter. He is not even gone yet, Robin, but I miss him. I try not to feel sorry for myself when I see him suffering. I don't want him to see me this way," he said as a tear slid down his cheek.
Robin wrapped his arms around Much. "Do not think you can hide your feelings from Carter. He knows you too well."
Much nodded into Robin's shoulder. "Does the hurt ever end?" he asked.
Robin gently thumbed away Much's tears. "It will always be there when you share the kind of love and dreams and hopes that you and Carter have. And hanging on to memories can be both good and bad. I do not have to tell you that. You know where I was that year after Marian died."
Much remembered all too well the desire for revenge that fed Robin's soul. He shut them all out of his life for months. Those were their darkest days. At times he was surprised their friendship survived. That Robin survived. "It was hell, Robin," Much said quietly, cupping the archer's face in his hands, "and not just for you. For the gang, too."
Robin closed his eyes against the images of burying his first love in the hot, arid sands of Palestine, against the hurt he'd felt then, and the pain he'd inflicted on others. He'd lost himself that day, and he nearly lost the friends who stood by him through it all. "I know," he murmured. "But we both know that memories give us strength, too. My dear old friend, I know your heart. I know your soul. It may take time, but you will find peace and your memories will hold you until you meet your love in heaven. You will have a special place there. With Carter. With Marian," the archer added in a hushed tone. "They will wait for us."
Much tried to smile. "You managed to make a life with Kate."
"A very good life," Robin agreed.
Much glanced toward the heavens. "Do you think Marian understands?"
Robin nodded. "I know she does."
"I cannot imagine anyone else in my life," Much sighed. "Cannot imagine loving someone else, feeling the way I do about another man, or woman."
"I thought that once, too, old friend. You may never find another. And that is okay," Robin replied. He rested his forehead against Much's then gently kissed his cheek.
Much smiled. "Will you stay for lunch? Bea always makes a fine meal."
"Squirrel stew today?" Robin joked.
"I only let her make that when Allan comes to visit," Much smirked as the two men headed toward the house.
Robin laughed and clamped his arm across Much's shoulder. "Are we getting old, Much?"
"Watch out who you call old, friend," Much kidded. "I do not think I will feel old until the day your daughter marries and has children."
"Please! She is only fifteen, Much! Do not remind me."
"Only fifteen?" Much chided him.
"Too young," Robin scowled. "And too much to handle for most young men."
"True," Much chuckled though he couldn't help but wonder if the archer would have any say once Juliana took any interest in the opposite sex.
"Kate chastises me every time Juliana comes into the house with a rabbit over her shoulder, or with knees scraped from climbing trees and running through Sherwood."
"Well, Kate never asked the child's godfathers to cease--"
"Godparents are supposed to guide the child spiritually, Much," Robin reminded him, "not teach them to throw long knives or shoot bow."
Much looked away innocently and swiped a hand through his blond locks. "At least she will be able to defend herself from over-amorous suitors! And might I remind you that Kate seems to have forgotten that she was quite the feisty village girl herself! I think Juliana picked up her temperament from the two of you! Do not try to blame me and Carter."
Robin shook his head. "I'm not ready to even think about Juliana marrying. Besides there isn't a man good enough for her!"
Much cleared his throat. "Pity the poor young man who gets you for a father-in-law!"
"Excuse me!" Robin groaned. "Perhaps we should pity the poor young man who thinks he might have any control over my daughter!"
Their laughter was interrupted when both men heard the carriage approaching before it rounded the old barn. Much's heartbeat quickened. "Lady Margaret?" he wondered aloud as he and Robin picked up their pace to greet the visitors at the door.
The driver climbed down from the carriage and opened its door for his passengers. A young man in his mid-twenties stepped out. Much and Robin both drew in sharp breaths. Much reached out to the archer to steady himself as a second young man appeared. Like his brother, he had blond hair and blue eyes--both the spitting image of Carter. One had hair cropped short just as Carter wore his since the first day Much laid eyes on him in Clun. He was tall and wiry, unlike the younger of the two who had broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His face was deeply tanned and his hair was longer and wilder, matching the fire in his eyes. The older of the two turned to help his sister from the carriage then nodded at Much and Robin.
"Dear God," Much whispered. He tried not to stare. He'd been prepared for Joanna, and Carter told him he suspected that he might have fathered a second child with Margaret. But . . . "Three--"
"My name is Matthew, Earl of Wilton. I am looking for Lord Much."
"Matthew, I am Much." He nodded toward Robin. "And this is Robin, Earl of Huntingdon."
"Robin Hood?" Harry asked with a bow.
Robin bowed slightly at the waist.
Matthew cleared his throat. "My Lord Much. Sir Robin," Matthew bowed. "My sister, Joanna, and brother Harry. We are here to meet Carter of Wilton."
"Just say it, Matthew," Harry insisted, clearly impatient with his older brother. "We are here to meet our father."
"Your father. Three of you. Yes, of course. Let us go inside and I'll tell Carter that you have arrived," Much said, trying to ignore the ruckus coming from inside the house. He could hear Bea shouting and hoped the stew hadn't burned. There would be extra guests for lunch. He looked past Matthew expecting another passenger. "Your mother," he asked, "the Lady Margaret?"
"Our mother did not accompany us," Matthew replied. "Given our father's ill health, we did not wish to burden him further."
Much felt a tinge of relief. "Then she told you the truth?"
"My lord," Joanna interrupted, nervously pushing back the loose golden curls that the cool breeze swept into her face, "this has been very painful for us all. We are here to apologize for our mother's actions."
"And we should like to know our father," Harry piped in, full of youthful exuberance that belied his twenty-three years.
Robin and Much smiled at each other. "That we can help with," Much said. He ushered them into the house and was greeted by Bea, her eyes filled with concern. Carter was halfway down the stairs and she was certain that he might lose his balance and fall.
"My Lord," Bea turned apologetically to Much, "I told master Carter to return to bed but he will not listen to me."
Much turned a fierce eye on his partner and took the stairs two at a time. "What do you think you are doing?" he asked.
"Greeting our . . . guests," Carter replied, gazing past Robin as the three Wiltons came through the door. His knees suddenly went weak. Much grabbed hold of him before he tumbled down the stairs.
"C'mon, back to bed," Much said.
"No. Downstairs . . . please," Carter half-pleaded. Despite Much's protests, he insisted that he preferred not to be on his backside to meet his family.
"Robert," Robin shouted at one of the younger servants, "set a comfortable place by the hearth for master Carter and make his family at home."
It took a few moments to get Carter settled. The servants brought pillows and placed a quilt across his lap for warmth though the fire blazed. Robin bid his farewells to allow the family to speak privately.
Carter studied their faces, shook his head. "All three? I didn't . . . know. Joanna, yes. Matthew . . . barely two . . . when I . . . " Carter drew in a breath, unable to complete his thoughts.
"When you left for the Holy Land," Much said, his voice soft and tender.
"My story . . . later," Carter said, waving his hand. He turned his gaze toward Joanna. "You talk."
If Joanna heard the tone in Much's voice or noticed the looks that passed between the two men, she chalked it up to nothing more than friendship. "All right. I'll begin. Three children," she said, pointing to herself and her two brothers. "And three grandchildren."
"With a fourth on the way," Matthew added. "My wife Mary and I will welcome our second child into this world in a few months."
"Dear God! You are a grandfather," Much exclaimed as Carter eyed Harry.
"Don't look at me!" Harry said, smiling broadly. "I've not found my true love yet!" Any tension in the room suddenly disappeared, pushed aside by laughter that filled the manor.
While they ate, the older Wiltons spoke of their families, and all three reminisced about growing up. They avoided talking about the lies their mother perpetuated, the truths she withheld. They spoke with love and respect of William, the man who'd raised them as his own and never let on that he knew the truth of their parentage. There was no why didn't you visit us? They understood. Much chastised himself for the nights he'd lain awake worrying how they'd take this news.
Carter ate very little. His trembling hands didn't go unobserved and Harry even helped him when his spoon slipped from his fingers. He was content to listen to their stories, looking on in utter fascination at the three young people--his children. Their smiles and laughter took away all the pain, fear, and humiliation of the sexual abuse he'd endured as a teen at their mother's hands. He wanted so badly to tell them how Much had been such a blessing in his life. He'd helped him forget, helped him through times when those memories threatened to make every day a living hell.
Fatigued after sitting up for more than two hours, Carter struggled to stay awake. Much finally convinced him that there would be time for more stories after he rested. He let Matthew and Harry carry him back upstairs but it was Much who had the last touch. He squeezed Carter's hand, kissed him on the cheek, and wished him pleasant dreams.
"Trevena . . . I'll dream . . . of Trevena," Carter said softly, his breath hot against Much's face.
Blushing, Much cleared his throat. "Yes, erm, that would be good. Very good."
"Have you been to the ancestral home?" Matthew asked as Much turned around and scooted them all from the room.
"About five years past," Much replied. "Carter loved it there. If we didn't have Bonchurch, we would live there if he'd had his way."
"Tintagel Head is quite magnificient," Harry said.
"Your father--er, Lord William took you there?"
"Took you where?" Joanna asked as the men wandered back into the main room.
"Trevena," Harry replied.
Much smiled. "Carter taught me to ride on the waves there, near Merlin's cave."
"It is a magical place," Matthew added.
Much nodded, pursuing his lips, remembering the magic he and Carter made there. He had to breathe deeply to quell the pounding in his heart.
Joanna linked her arm through Much's. "Why don't you show us around your estate and tell us how Cart-- how father became involved with Robin Hood."
"I want to hear about King Richard's rescue!" Harry exclaimed.
"Let me start at the beginning," Much said, patting Joanna's hand and leading them toward the door. "I imagine you don't know that we first met Carter when he was hired by the sheriff of Nottingham to kill Robin."
"What?" all three Wiltons exclaimed at the same time.
Much smiled. "But I guess you could say Carter's life with Robin Hood really began when he followed your Uncle Thomas to the Holy Land . . . " Much began the tale of Carter's story as he guided the Wiltons outside into the April sunshine. He'd only described events up to 1199--the year they returned to Fontevrault Abbey for King Richard's burial--when they sat down a few hours later for the evening meal. After dinner, they gathered by the hearth again while Much excused himself to check on Carter.
"Look what Bea had on the table," Much said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He brushed Carter's face with a pale purple spiky plant.
"Lavender," Carter sighed, breathing in the familiar fragrance they'd used to scent their baths, baths that often began with hands exploring soapy bodies and ended with pounding hearts. "Wishful thinking."
"Oh, no, how thoughtless--"
Carter pressed a finger to Much's lips. "Do not change," he said wistfully. "Have you . . . told them yet?"
"You mean about us?" Much asked, pushing back the lump in his throat.
Carter nodded weakly.
"I'm not sure they are ready for that. Tomorrow perhaps. Let them talk to you tomorrow. Get to know you--us--a bit better. Then we shall decide."
Carter grabbed Much's hand. "I may not . . . have . . . tomorrow."
"Don't say that! Do not say that!" he whispered.
"I'm so tired, Much."
Tears filled Much's eyes. "I know, love," he said as he brought Carter's hand to his lips.
"Send for . . . Robin. The gang."
>->------------>>
Much paused at the top of the stairs, leaned against the wall, and ran his fist across his forehead, his hands trembling. He wiped his eyes dry then trudged downstairs.
Harry stoked the fire under his brother's directions, shaking his head all the while. Joanna observed their banter with some amusement. All three turned when Much appeared. "Is everything alright?" Joanna asked. Matthew and Harry saw the redness in his eyes even in the dim glow of the firelight.
Much held his hand up, turning to his servant Robert. "Master Carter feels we should send for Robin and the others. He needs to say good-bye."
"Yes, sir. I shall arrange for messengers to be sent right away."
"So soon?" Harry asked.
Much poured himself a mug of ale and wandered over to the hearth. He leaned against the mantelpiece and stared into the fire. "It means so much to him that you are here. I can see it in his eyes," Much told them.
"It was good of you to have taken him in, Much," Joanna offered.
"Taken him in? Yes, well . . . I imagine we--I--did not make that clear, did I?" Much hesitated a moment, looking at each of Carter's children in turn. He took a huge swig of his ale. "You see," he finally said, "Carter and I have been together for twenty years."
"Business partners?" Matthew asked.
Much let the words form slowly as he spoke. "We live together. We are . . . a family."
Joanna paled, visibly shaken. Matthew cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and the look on Harry's face seemed to indicate he was considering everything they'd heard and seen since their arrival earlier in the day.
"I imagine you disapprove," Much continued, his eyes tearing again, "but let me just say we have shared our lives, celebrated good times with our friends, and had our joys and sorrows like any married couple. I love your father deeply, and my life will not be the same when he leaves this earth." Much wiped the tears from his eyes. "Excuse me. I need some fresh air."
>->------------>>
Allan A Dale was the first to arrive. He always spun a good yarn but tonight, not surprisingly, he was more subdued than usual. The Wiltons seemed charmed by Allan's graciousness and took pleasure in his stories. Allan spoke fondly of Much and Carter. Much wondered if learning about their father from his friends, hearing of this loving relationship, would soften their shock. At least they had not just walked out, he thought.
Much greeted the Scarletts and their brood at the door then wandered outside. Young Dan Scarlett scooted past his parents and ran into Allan's arms. The poacher scooped the child up with a big bear hug then introduced the youngest of Will and Djaq's children to the Wiltons. He'd not completed all the introductions when a commotion outside the house interrupted him. The door burst open, and a teenage girl with chestnut-colored hair and eyes like emeralds dragged a very large older man into the manor. Little John waved at his friends.
"Hi Auntie Djaq! Uncle Allan! Uncle Will!" the girl shouted as she trotted up the stairs with John in tow. The two older Scarlett children ran after them.
"Who was that?" Harry asked, his head cocked for the best view of the young maid.
"That," Allan chuckled, "was John Little and Juliana of Locksley, Robin and Kate's daughter."
"Sir John Little?" Matthew asked. "The royal consort to her majesty, the late Duchess of Aquitaine?"**
"Yup," Allan replied with a cheeky grin.
Harry peered up the stairs. He could hear Juliana's voice, strong and self-assured. Her energy seemed to send a spark through the lodge and was so much more welcome than the quiet, doleful atmosphere of a house waiting for death to arrive.
Robin and Kate walked in a few moments later. Robin's face was lined with disappointment. He looked sternly at the three Wiltons. "Much told us that he did not think you'd taken the news very well."
"I think that it will just take time to get used to the idea," Harry said, which drew an incredulous look from his sister. Of the three siblings, he seemed to have been the only one who'd picked up hints of the relationship so Much's announcement had not come as a complete shock.
"Get used to--" Joanna shook her head, unwilling to speak her mind with the youngest Scarlett children present.
"What are we supposed to say?" Matthew said. "That we approve of this--"
"They do not need your approval," Djaq said as Will agreed with a nod and placed his arm around his wife's waist.
"Just your acceptance," Robin said.
"Djaq is right," Allan added.
"Leave the approvals up to God," Robin added.
"The Church would not approve--" Matthew said.
"I did not say the Church. I said God. God will judge them on what they have done in this life, and on their commitment to each other," Robin said. He took his wife's hand and squeezed it. "I cannot imagine that any loving God would see them burn in hell because they have have loved each other, been faithful to each other."
Joanna shook her head. "I am sorry, Robin. I just do not understand. What does this to men?"
"What? Does what?" Robin asked impatiently. "It is called love."
>->------------>>
Robin was the last of the gang to say good-bye while the others held a vigil downstairs, a vigil that celebrated Carter's life. Robin knelt by Carter's bedside and ran his fingers across the back of Carter's hand, touched his cheek, then gently cupped his face. Carter struggled to cuff Robin's neck and pull the archer close. He whispered watch over Much. Robin kissed him tenderly. "I will. We all will. See you in heaven, my friend."
Robin started to leave but Much held him back knowing that the archer's presence would give him strength. "Please stay," he said as Harry, Joanna, and Matthew moved to Carter's side.
"Sorry," Carter told his children. "So little . . . time."
"There is no need to say sorry, father," Matthew said quietly.
Joanna drew Carter's hand into hers. Much and Robin watched her struggle with emotions stirred by everything she'd heard today. "We have been listening to your friends' stories, to Much's stories, for hours," she said. "I think they've not been entirely truthful."
Much's shoulders drooped and his eyes glistened with tears as he saw the expression on Carter's face.
"Wha--" Carter frowned.
"They've not had one bad thing to say about you," she replied, a soft smile caressing her mouth.
A crooked grin lit Harry's face. "Well, except for the time you tried to kill Robin and tied everyone up," he said.
Carter smiled weakly. Robin threw his arm across Much's shoulder and gave him a squeeze.
"I am sorry that our mother never told us about you. And I am truly saddened . . . that Matthew, Harry, and I may only know you through your friends," she looked at Much and her eyes grew moist, "and through your family. You are good men. I cannot say that I understand how one man can love, can live, with another as you have done. I cannot say that I approve of it. I shall pray to God and perhaps he might help me understand. And for now, I accept it. I cannot do more than that. Not yet." Joanna felt Carter's fingers tighten around her hand. "But let me tell you that these few hours mean more than you will know. Your friends--your family--are giving us your life. You have done so much for so many. It is clear what knowing you, having you in their lives, has meant to them."
Joanna planted a kiss on Carter's cheek. Harry knelt on the other side of the bed, his own hand atop his father's. Standing behind Joanna, his hand on her shoulder, Matthew nodded his agreement.
"I have one . . . wish . . . for you," Carter said. "I have loved and been loved. May you be even half . . . half as lucky . . . to find the joy I have known."
Tears streamed down Much's face. Robin enfolded his arms around Much, holding him tightly to quell the violent sobs that racked his body. He knew what it was like to lose one you loved, knew there were no words that might ease the pain. It will be all right was the last thing Much would want to hear. He thought back to the day--the days--when Much held him like this after Marian died. Hold me. Be there, Robin thought as his own hot tears mingled with Much's.
"Much, Robin," Carter scolded, "stop . . . cryin'."
"I'm not crying," Much sniffed, "I'm laughin' on the wrong side of my face."
Carter caught the flash of recognition in his childrens' eyes. They'd heard that little phrase, too, a part of the history of the Wilton family, begun when their uncle Thomas had been mortally wounded in the Holy Land. The letter that came to their family said Thomas had died a hero's death in battle, and his last words to Robin of Locksley were "tell my family I'm laughing on the wrong side of my face".
Robin forced a smile and planted a kiss on Much's cheek then quietly shuffled everyone else from the room.
"Lie here . . . with me," Carter told Much, straining for every breath.
Much gently crawled onto the bed and nestled his head against Carter's shoulder like he'd done so many nights before. “I'm here, love." `
A weak smile curled the edges of Carter's mouth. "Tell . . . me . . . about Trevena."
Much lifted his head, gaping at Carter. "Now?"
"Please," he whispered.
Much's breath rattled in his throat as he snuggled back into Carter's shoulder. Even now, as Carter slipped away, he shivered like a young lad blushing about a first kiss. "Do you remember the sea air? Sprays crashing off the rocks and in our faces. I remember your boyish smile--"
"Boyish?" Carter managed to chuckle. Much always seemed to make him feel younger than his forty-one years.
"And your eyes--even bluer against the turquoise green water," Much said, running his finger across Carter's brow and down his temple. Words caught in his throat and he spoke slowly as tears slid down his cheeks. "Your beautiful body--no man should look so good because it drives others wild. The surf left that salty wetness on your skin. The smell of you. The feel of you. My hands against your hot flesh." Much's voice trembled. "Oh dear God... your touch. Your touch so fiery that I know my heart might shatter. Surely heaven cannot not be so joyful as the way I feel when you are close."
Much ran his palm along Carter's jawline. "Please don't go," he whispered. "I do not want to be alone."
Carter uttered a low sigh and tipped his head against Much's. "I am in . . . in your heart . . . always."
"In my heart," Much repeated through his tears. He reached across Carter's chest and twined his fingers tightly through those of the man who'd made his life complete. "And at the end of our days I lay beside you, my love, hold you close, feel your breath against my face, and remember every moment we have shared.”
Carter took a breath and closed his eyes forever.
>->------------>>
EPILOGUE
Much thought it might be hard to come back to Trevena, but six months after Carter left this earth he returned to the place that Carter loved, to the place that held so many memories. He held his lover in his heart. Always would.
"I miss you," Much whispered as he imagined Carter's kisses, his soft touches, and the feel of his body pressed close. He shivered and closed his eyes listening to the turquoise-green waters crash against the beach off Tintagel Head. Some things did not change. Much listened to the waves pound Merlin's cave, pounding like the beat of his heart. He could still picture the joy in Carter's blue eyes when the sound of the waterfall cascading down on the rocks was the only thing to be heard above their love-making on the beach.
The memories of twenty years would always be there. But Much found that life kept moving forward. It got a bit easier each day to get up and greet the sun. He admitted the first couple of months had been hard. Everywhere he turned there were constant reminders of how empty the lodge seemed without his partner. The gang was there for him, especially Robin, of course. He’d invited Harry to stay on at Bonchurch. Carter's youngest son had a keen eye for business and running estates--and more interesting, he had taken a shine to Juliana. Watching that young love blossom and knowing that Carter would have been delighted with the match brought Much more joy than he could have imagined. And seeing Robin's reaction to his daughter's affection for Harry was enough to make him want to break into song, a cheery one, of course, that could be heard all the way to Locksley.
They'd had a good life at Bonchurch after they'd rescued King Richard and been pardoned for their outlaw ways. They had the warm hearth Much always craved. They worked the estate together, watched over their peasants, and attended the Council of Nobles under Sheriff Locksley's wise rule. They mourned the King they'd both served under when he passed from this earth, and saw his brother John, whom they'd fought against years earlier, assume the throne. They remained under the Queen Mother's watchful eye until she joined her son in heaven. King John was so embroiled with the Church in Rome, his barons, and wars across the Channel, that he let them live in peace. Much glanced toward the heavens. I still hate politics, he told Carter, throwing him that little sideways nod certain that his lover was smiling down on him.
Squinting against the morning sun Much noticed a woman walking along the beach. It wasn't until she drew very close that he realized it was Eve. He'd heard she’d been in Nottingham earlier that summer though their paths had not crossed. And now, to find her here--in Trevena--made him realize that he might have more memories to keep him warm.
the end
>->------------>>
** blatantly 'stolen' (with permission) from
darkentwisted when I spotted his use of that description while doing the beta for ch. 26 of Time's Arrow!
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, Robin, the Gang, OCs
Genre: angst, romance, slash, character death (agh!)
Words: 4947
Summary: Still in DeNile: Carter (as we recall) survived Vaisey's attack in 2x13. He & Much made a life for themselves in Bonchurch. Approx. 20 years after the gang rescued King Richard from captivity in Bavaria (in For King and Country where I ignored the historical record), Carter lay dying and Much has taken it upon himself to ensure that Carter's estranged family knows the heroic story of the man he loves.
A/N1: One small section from pt. 1 of this story (180 words--same title) was published on treatmuchright for the Lent 2009 ficathon.
A/N2: If you haven't read Carter's family history I concocted in ch. 3 of For King and Country, then the OCs in this fic may make you do a double-take.
A/N3: The last paragraph was written in collaboration with darkentwisted as a precursor to his Trevena story.
Many thanks to darkentwisted for doing the beta for pt. 2. His feedback is Much, er, much appreciated.
Part 1 is here
>->------------>>
At the End of Our Days, pt. 2
Robin eyed the target and let loose an arrow. Hit dead center, as usual. Two children watched from the fence and applauded loudly. The archer bowed for the appreciative young crowd. Though he moved a bit slower these days, the lord of Locksley still looked as fit as the day he and Much left to join King Richard's Crusades. "When do you expect them?"
Much took his shot. It landed several centimeters to the left of center. "Agh!" he shouted, dropping his bow and rubbing his aching fingers. "Perhaps today. Maybe tomorrow. None too soon, I fear."
Robin shooed the children away then placed a hand on Much's arm. "How are you, old friend?"
Much's lips trembled. "I miss Carter. He is not even gone yet, Robin, but I miss him. I try not to feel sorry for myself when I see him suffering. I don't want him to see me this way," he said as a tear slid down his cheek.
Robin wrapped his arms around Much. "Do not think you can hide your feelings from Carter. He knows you too well."
Much nodded into Robin's shoulder. "Does the hurt ever end?" he asked.
Robin gently thumbed away Much's tears. "It will always be there when you share the kind of love and dreams and hopes that you and Carter have. And hanging on to memories can be both good and bad. I do not have to tell you that. You know where I was that year after Marian died."
Much remembered all too well the desire for revenge that fed Robin's soul. He shut them all out of his life for months. Those were their darkest days. At times he was surprised their friendship survived. That Robin survived. "It was hell, Robin," Much said quietly, cupping the archer's face in his hands, "and not just for you. For the gang, too."
Robin closed his eyes against the images of burying his first love in the hot, arid sands of Palestine, against the hurt he'd felt then, and the pain he'd inflicted on others. He'd lost himself that day, and he nearly lost the friends who stood by him through it all. "I know," he murmured. "But we both know that memories give us strength, too. My dear old friend, I know your heart. I know your soul. It may take time, but you will find peace and your memories will hold you until you meet your love in heaven. You will have a special place there. With Carter. With Marian," the archer added in a hushed tone. "They will wait for us."
Much tried to smile. "You managed to make a life with Kate."
"A very good life," Robin agreed.
Much glanced toward the heavens. "Do you think Marian understands?"
Robin nodded. "I know she does."
"I cannot imagine anyone else in my life," Much sighed. "Cannot imagine loving someone else, feeling the way I do about another man, or woman."
"I thought that once, too, old friend. You may never find another. And that is okay," Robin replied. He rested his forehead against Much's then gently kissed his cheek.
Much smiled. "Will you stay for lunch? Bea always makes a fine meal."
"Squirrel stew today?" Robin joked.
"I only let her make that when Allan comes to visit," Much smirked as the two men headed toward the house.
Robin laughed and clamped his arm across Much's shoulder. "Are we getting old, Much?"
"Watch out who you call old, friend," Much kidded. "I do not think I will feel old until the day your daughter marries and has children."
"Please! She is only fifteen, Much! Do not remind me."
"Only fifteen?" Much chided him.
"Too young," Robin scowled. "And too much to handle for most young men."
"True," Much chuckled though he couldn't help but wonder if the archer would have any say once Juliana took any interest in the opposite sex.
"Kate chastises me every time Juliana comes into the house with a rabbit over her shoulder, or with knees scraped from climbing trees and running through Sherwood."
"Well, Kate never asked the child's godfathers to cease--"
"Godparents are supposed to guide the child spiritually, Much," Robin reminded him, "not teach them to throw long knives or shoot bow."
Much looked away innocently and swiped a hand through his blond locks. "At least she will be able to defend herself from over-amorous suitors! And might I remind you that Kate seems to have forgotten that she was quite the feisty village girl herself! I think Juliana picked up her temperament from the two of you! Do not try to blame me and Carter."
Robin shook his head. "I'm not ready to even think about Juliana marrying. Besides there isn't a man good enough for her!"
Much cleared his throat. "Pity the poor young man who gets you for a father-in-law!"
"Excuse me!" Robin groaned. "Perhaps we should pity the poor young man who thinks he might have any control over my daughter!"
Their laughter was interrupted when both men heard the carriage approaching before it rounded the old barn. Much's heartbeat quickened. "Lady Margaret?" he wondered aloud as he and Robin picked up their pace to greet the visitors at the door.
The driver climbed down from the carriage and opened its door for his passengers. A young man in his mid-twenties stepped out. Much and Robin both drew in sharp breaths. Much reached out to the archer to steady himself as a second young man appeared. Like his brother, he had blond hair and blue eyes--both the spitting image of Carter. One had hair cropped short just as Carter wore his since the first day Much laid eyes on him in Clun. He was tall and wiry, unlike the younger of the two who had broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His face was deeply tanned and his hair was longer and wilder, matching the fire in his eyes. The older of the two turned to help his sister from the carriage then nodded at Much and Robin.
"Dear God," Much whispered. He tried not to stare. He'd been prepared for Joanna, and Carter told him he suspected that he might have fathered a second child with Margaret. But . . . "Three--"
"My name is Matthew, Earl of Wilton. I am looking for Lord Much."
"Matthew, I am Much." He nodded toward Robin. "And this is Robin, Earl of Huntingdon."
"Robin Hood?" Harry asked with a bow.
Robin bowed slightly at the waist.
Matthew cleared his throat. "My Lord Much. Sir Robin," Matthew bowed. "My sister, Joanna, and brother Harry. We are here to meet Carter of Wilton."
"Just say it, Matthew," Harry insisted, clearly impatient with his older brother. "We are here to meet our father."
"Your father. Three of you. Yes, of course. Let us go inside and I'll tell Carter that you have arrived," Much said, trying to ignore the ruckus coming from inside the house. He could hear Bea shouting and hoped the stew hadn't burned. There would be extra guests for lunch. He looked past Matthew expecting another passenger. "Your mother," he asked, "the Lady Margaret?"
"Our mother did not accompany us," Matthew replied. "Given our father's ill health, we did not wish to burden him further."
Much felt a tinge of relief. "Then she told you the truth?"
"My lord," Joanna interrupted, nervously pushing back the loose golden curls that the cool breeze swept into her face, "this has been very painful for us all. We are here to apologize for our mother's actions."
"And we should like to know our father," Harry piped in, full of youthful exuberance that belied his twenty-three years.
Robin and Much smiled at each other. "That we can help with," Much said. He ushered them into the house and was greeted by Bea, her eyes filled with concern. Carter was halfway down the stairs and she was certain that he might lose his balance and fall.
"My Lord," Bea turned apologetically to Much, "I told master Carter to return to bed but he will not listen to me."
Much turned a fierce eye on his partner and took the stairs two at a time. "What do you think you are doing?" he asked.
"Greeting our . . . guests," Carter replied, gazing past Robin as the three Wiltons came through the door. His knees suddenly went weak. Much grabbed hold of him before he tumbled down the stairs.
"C'mon, back to bed," Much said.
"No. Downstairs . . . please," Carter half-pleaded. Despite Much's protests, he insisted that he preferred not to be on his backside to meet his family.
"Robert," Robin shouted at one of the younger servants, "set a comfortable place by the hearth for master Carter and make his family at home."
It took a few moments to get Carter settled. The servants brought pillows and placed a quilt across his lap for warmth though the fire blazed. Robin bid his farewells to allow the family to speak privately.
Carter studied their faces, shook his head. "All three? I didn't . . . know. Joanna, yes. Matthew . . . barely two . . . when I . . . " Carter drew in a breath, unable to complete his thoughts.
"When you left for the Holy Land," Much said, his voice soft and tender.
"My story . . . later," Carter said, waving his hand. He turned his gaze toward Joanna. "You talk."
If Joanna heard the tone in Much's voice or noticed the looks that passed between the two men, she chalked it up to nothing more than friendship. "All right. I'll begin. Three children," she said, pointing to herself and her two brothers. "And three grandchildren."
"With a fourth on the way," Matthew added. "My wife Mary and I will welcome our second child into this world in a few months."
"Dear God! You are a grandfather," Much exclaimed as Carter eyed Harry.
"Don't look at me!" Harry said, smiling broadly. "I've not found my true love yet!" Any tension in the room suddenly disappeared, pushed aside by laughter that filled the manor.
While they ate, the older Wiltons spoke of their families, and all three reminisced about growing up. They avoided talking about the lies their mother perpetuated, the truths she withheld. They spoke with love and respect of William, the man who'd raised them as his own and never let on that he knew the truth of their parentage. There was no why didn't you visit us? They understood. Much chastised himself for the nights he'd lain awake worrying how they'd take this news.
Carter ate very little. His trembling hands didn't go unobserved and Harry even helped him when his spoon slipped from his fingers. He was content to listen to their stories, looking on in utter fascination at the three young people--his children. Their smiles and laughter took away all the pain, fear, and humiliation of the sexual abuse he'd endured as a teen at their mother's hands. He wanted so badly to tell them how Much had been such a blessing in his life. He'd helped him forget, helped him through times when those memories threatened to make every day a living hell.
Fatigued after sitting up for more than two hours, Carter struggled to stay awake. Much finally convinced him that there would be time for more stories after he rested. He let Matthew and Harry carry him back upstairs but it was Much who had the last touch. He squeezed Carter's hand, kissed him on the cheek, and wished him pleasant dreams.
"Trevena . . . I'll dream . . . of Trevena," Carter said softly, his breath hot against Much's face.
Blushing, Much cleared his throat. "Yes, erm, that would be good. Very good."
"Have you been to the ancestral home?" Matthew asked as Much turned around and scooted them all from the room.
"About five years past," Much replied. "Carter loved it there. If we didn't have Bonchurch, we would live there if he'd had his way."
"Tintagel Head is quite magnificient," Harry said.
"Your father--er, Lord William took you there?"
"Took you where?" Joanna asked as the men wandered back into the main room.
"Trevena," Harry replied.
Much smiled. "Carter taught me to ride on the waves there, near Merlin's cave."
"It is a magical place," Matthew added.
Much nodded, pursuing his lips, remembering the magic he and Carter made there. He had to breathe deeply to quell the pounding in his heart.
Joanna linked her arm through Much's. "Why don't you show us around your estate and tell us how Cart-- how father became involved with Robin Hood."
"I want to hear about King Richard's rescue!" Harry exclaimed.
"Let me start at the beginning," Much said, patting Joanna's hand and leading them toward the door. "I imagine you don't know that we first met Carter when he was hired by the sheriff of Nottingham to kill Robin."
"What?" all three Wiltons exclaimed at the same time.
Much smiled. "But I guess you could say Carter's life with Robin Hood really began when he followed your Uncle Thomas to the Holy Land . . . " Much began the tale of Carter's story as he guided the Wiltons outside into the April sunshine. He'd only described events up to 1199--the year they returned to Fontevrault Abbey for King Richard's burial--when they sat down a few hours later for the evening meal. After dinner, they gathered by the hearth again while Much excused himself to check on Carter.
"Look what Bea had on the table," Much said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He brushed Carter's face with a pale purple spiky plant.
"Lavender," Carter sighed, breathing in the familiar fragrance they'd used to scent their baths, baths that often began with hands exploring soapy bodies and ended with pounding hearts. "Wishful thinking."
"Oh, no, how thoughtless--"
Carter pressed a finger to Much's lips. "Do not change," he said wistfully. "Have you . . . told them yet?"
"You mean about us?" Much asked, pushing back the lump in his throat.
Carter nodded weakly.
"I'm not sure they are ready for that. Tomorrow perhaps. Let them talk to you tomorrow. Get to know you--us--a bit better. Then we shall decide."
Carter grabbed Much's hand. "I may not . . . have . . . tomorrow."
"Don't say that! Do not say that!" he whispered.
"I'm so tired, Much."
Tears filled Much's eyes. "I know, love," he said as he brought Carter's hand to his lips.
"Send for . . . Robin. The gang."
>->------------>>
Much paused at the top of the stairs, leaned against the wall, and ran his fist across his forehead, his hands trembling. He wiped his eyes dry then trudged downstairs.
Harry stoked the fire under his brother's directions, shaking his head all the while. Joanna observed their banter with some amusement. All three turned when Much appeared. "Is everything alright?" Joanna asked. Matthew and Harry saw the redness in his eyes even in the dim glow of the firelight.
Much held his hand up, turning to his servant Robert. "Master Carter feels we should send for Robin and the others. He needs to say good-bye."
"Yes, sir. I shall arrange for messengers to be sent right away."
"So soon?" Harry asked.
Much poured himself a mug of ale and wandered over to the hearth. He leaned against the mantelpiece and stared into the fire. "It means so much to him that you are here. I can see it in his eyes," Much told them.
"It was good of you to have taken him in, Much," Joanna offered.
"Taken him in? Yes, well . . . I imagine we--I--did not make that clear, did I?" Much hesitated a moment, looking at each of Carter's children in turn. He took a huge swig of his ale. "You see," he finally said, "Carter and I have been together for twenty years."
"Business partners?" Matthew asked.
Much let the words form slowly as he spoke. "We live together. We are . . . a family."
Joanna paled, visibly shaken. Matthew cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and the look on Harry's face seemed to indicate he was considering everything they'd heard and seen since their arrival earlier in the day.
"I imagine you disapprove," Much continued, his eyes tearing again, "but let me just say we have shared our lives, celebrated good times with our friends, and had our joys and sorrows like any married couple. I love your father deeply, and my life will not be the same when he leaves this earth." Much wiped the tears from his eyes. "Excuse me. I need some fresh air."
>->------------>>
Allan A Dale was the first to arrive. He always spun a good yarn but tonight, not surprisingly, he was more subdued than usual. The Wiltons seemed charmed by Allan's graciousness and took pleasure in his stories. Allan spoke fondly of Much and Carter. Much wondered if learning about their father from his friends, hearing of this loving relationship, would soften their shock. At least they had not just walked out, he thought.
Much greeted the Scarletts and their brood at the door then wandered outside. Young Dan Scarlett scooted past his parents and ran into Allan's arms. The poacher scooped the child up with a big bear hug then introduced the youngest of Will and Djaq's children to the Wiltons. He'd not completed all the introductions when a commotion outside the house interrupted him. The door burst open, and a teenage girl with chestnut-colored hair and eyes like emeralds dragged a very large older man into the manor. Little John waved at his friends.
"Hi Auntie Djaq! Uncle Allan! Uncle Will!" the girl shouted as she trotted up the stairs with John in tow. The two older Scarlett children ran after them.
"Who was that?" Harry asked, his head cocked for the best view of the young maid.
"That," Allan chuckled, "was John Little and Juliana of Locksley, Robin and Kate's daughter."
"Sir John Little?" Matthew asked. "The royal consort to her majesty, the late Duchess of Aquitaine?"**
"Yup," Allan replied with a cheeky grin.
Harry peered up the stairs. He could hear Juliana's voice, strong and self-assured. Her energy seemed to send a spark through the lodge and was so much more welcome than the quiet, doleful atmosphere of a house waiting for death to arrive.
Robin and Kate walked in a few moments later. Robin's face was lined with disappointment. He looked sternly at the three Wiltons. "Much told us that he did not think you'd taken the news very well."
"I think that it will just take time to get used to the idea," Harry said, which drew an incredulous look from his sister. Of the three siblings, he seemed to have been the only one who'd picked up hints of the relationship so Much's announcement had not come as a complete shock.
"Get used to--" Joanna shook her head, unwilling to speak her mind with the youngest Scarlett children present.
"What are we supposed to say?" Matthew said. "That we approve of this--"
"They do not need your approval," Djaq said as Will agreed with a nod and placed his arm around his wife's waist.
"Just your acceptance," Robin said.
"Djaq is right," Allan added.
"Leave the approvals up to God," Robin added.
"The Church would not approve--" Matthew said.
"I did not say the Church. I said God. God will judge them on what they have done in this life, and on their commitment to each other," Robin said. He took his wife's hand and squeezed it. "I cannot imagine that any loving God would see them burn in hell because they have have loved each other, been faithful to each other."
Joanna shook her head. "I am sorry, Robin. I just do not understand. What does this to men?"
"What? Does what?" Robin asked impatiently. "It is called love."
>->------------>>
Robin was the last of the gang to say good-bye while the others held a vigil downstairs, a vigil that celebrated Carter's life. Robin knelt by Carter's bedside and ran his fingers across the back of Carter's hand, touched his cheek, then gently cupped his face. Carter struggled to cuff Robin's neck and pull the archer close. He whispered watch over Much. Robin kissed him tenderly. "I will. We all will. See you in heaven, my friend."
Robin started to leave but Much held him back knowing that the archer's presence would give him strength. "Please stay," he said as Harry, Joanna, and Matthew moved to Carter's side.
"Sorry," Carter told his children. "So little . . . time."
"There is no need to say sorry, father," Matthew said quietly.
Joanna drew Carter's hand into hers. Much and Robin watched her struggle with emotions stirred by everything she'd heard today. "We have been listening to your friends' stories, to Much's stories, for hours," she said. "I think they've not been entirely truthful."
Much's shoulders drooped and his eyes glistened with tears as he saw the expression on Carter's face.
"Wha--" Carter frowned.
"They've not had one bad thing to say about you," she replied, a soft smile caressing her mouth.
A crooked grin lit Harry's face. "Well, except for the time you tried to kill Robin and tied everyone up," he said.
Carter smiled weakly. Robin threw his arm across Much's shoulder and gave him a squeeze.
"I am sorry that our mother never told us about you. And I am truly saddened . . . that Matthew, Harry, and I may only know you through your friends," she looked at Much and her eyes grew moist, "and through your family. You are good men. I cannot say that I understand how one man can love, can live, with another as you have done. I cannot say that I approve of it. I shall pray to God and perhaps he might help me understand. And for now, I accept it. I cannot do more than that. Not yet." Joanna felt Carter's fingers tighten around her hand. "But let me tell you that these few hours mean more than you will know. Your friends--your family--are giving us your life. You have done so much for so many. It is clear what knowing you, having you in their lives, has meant to them."
Joanna planted a kiss on Carter's cheek. Harry knelt on the other side of the bed, his own hand atop his father's. Standing behind Joanna, his hand on her shoulder, Matthew nodded his agreement.
"I have one . . . wish . . . for you," Carter said. "I have loved and been loved. May you be even half . . . half as lucky . . . to find the joy I have known."
Tears streamed down Much's face. Robin enfolded his arms around Much, holding him tightly to quell the violent sobs that racked his body. He knew what it was like to lose one you loved, knew there were no words that might ease the pain. It will be all right was the last thing Much would want to hear. He thought back to the day--the days--when Much held him like this after Marian died. Hold me. Be there, Robin thought as his own hot tears mingled with Much's.
"Much, Robin," Carter scolded, "stop . . . cryin'."
"I'm not crying," Much sniffed, "I'm laughin' on the wrong side of my face."
Carter caught the flash of recognition in his childrens' eyes. They'd heard that little phrase, too, a part of the history of the Wilton family, begun when their uncle Thomas had been mortally wounded in the Holy Land. The letter that came to their family said Thomas had died a hero's death in battle, and his last words to Robin of Locksley were "tell my family I'm laughing on the wrong side of my face".
Robin forced a smile and planted a kiss on Much's cheek then quietly shuffled everyone else from the room.
"Lie here . . . with me," Carter told Much, straining for every breath.
Much gently crawled onto the bed and nestled his head against Carter's shoulder like he'd done so many nights before. “I'm here, love." `
A weak smile curled the edges of Carter's mouth. "Tell . . . me . . . about Trevena."
Much lifted his head, gaping at Carter. "Now?"
"Please," he whispered.
Much's breath rattled in his throat as he snuggled back into Carter's shoulder. Even now, as Carter slipped away, he shivered like a young lad blushing about a first kiss. "Do you remember the sea air? Sprays crashing off the rocks and in our faces. I remember your boyish smile--"
"Boyish?" Carter managed to chuckle. Much always seemed to make him feel younger than his forty-one years.
"And your eyes--even bluer against the turquoise green water," Much said, running his finger across Carter's brow and down his temple. Words caught in his throat and he spoke slowly as tears slid down his cheeks. "Your beautiful body--no man should look so good because it drives others wild. The surf left that salty wetness on your skin. The smell of you. The feel of you. My hands against your hot flesh." Much's voice trembled. "Oh dear God... your touch. Your touch so fiery that I know my heart might shatter. Surely heaven cannot not be so joyful as the way I feel when you are close."
Much ran his palm along Carter's jawline. "Please don't go," he whispered. "I do not want to be alone."
Carter uttered a low sigh and tipped his head against Much's. "I am in . . . in your heart . . . always."
"In my heart," Much repeated through his tears. He reached across Carter's chest and twined his fingers tightly through those of the man who'd made his life complete. "And at the end of our days I lay beside you, my love, hold you close, feel your breath against my face, and remember every moment we have shared.”
Carter took a breath and closed his eyes forever.
>->------------>>
EPILOGUE
Much thought it might be hard to come back to Trevena, but six months after Carter left this earth he returned to the place that Carter loved, to the place that held so many memories. He held his lover in his heart. Always would.
"I miss you," Much whispered as he imagined Carter's kisses, his soft touches, and the feel of his body pressed close. He shivered and closed his eyes listening to the turquoise-green waters crash against the beach off Tintagel Head. Some things did not change. Much listened to the waves pound Merlin's cave, pounding like the beat of his heart. He could still picture the joy in Carter's blue eyes when the sound of the waterfall cascading down on the rocks was the only thing to be heard above their love-making on the beach.
The memories of twenty years would always be there. But Much found that life kept moving forward. It got a bit easier each day to get up and greet the sun. He admitted the first couple of months had been hard. Everywhere he turned there were constant reminders of how empty the lodge seemed without his partner. The gang was there for him, especially Robin, of course. He’d invited Harry to stay on at Bonchurch. Carter's youngest son had a keen eye for business and running estates--and more interesting, he had taken a shine to Juliana. Watching that young love blossom and knowing that Carter would have been delighted with the match brought Much more joy than he could have imagined. And seeing Robin's reaction to his daughter's affection for Harry was enough to make him want to break into song, a cheery one, of course, that could be heard all the way to Locksley.
They'd had a good life at Bonchurch after they'd rescued King Richard and been pardoned for their outlaw ways. They had the warm hearth Much always craved. They worked the estate together, watched over their peasants, and attended the Council of Nobles under Sheriff Locksley's wise rule. They mourned the King they'd both served under when he passed from this earth, and saw his brother John, whom they'd fought against years earlier, assume the throne. They remained under the Queen Mother's watchful eye until she joined her son in heaven. King John was so embroiled with the Church in Rome, his barons, and wars across the Channel, that he let them live in peace. Much glanced toward the heavens. I still hate politics, he told Carter, throwing him that little sideways nod certain that his lover was smiling down on him.
Squinting against the morning sun Much noticed a woman walking along the beach. It wasn't until she drew very close that he realized it was Eve. He'd heard she’d been in Nottingham earlier that summer though their paths had not crossed. And now, to find her here--in Trevena--made him realize that he might have more memories to keep him warm.
the end
>->------------>>
** blatantly 'stolen' (with permission) from
darkentwisted when I spotted his use of that description while doing the beta for ch. 26 of Time's Arrow!