Sacred Space, Robin of Sherwood, Marion/Herne's Son, FRAO
Title: Sacred Space
Author: Fabrisse
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Characters: Lady Marion
Genre: Character Study
Rating: FRAO
Prompt: 24 -- space @ story_lottery
Summary: Sacred rites must be performed to keep the year on its wheel
Spoilers: Set between The Greatest Enemy and Herne's Son
Warning(s): Explicit Sex
Word Count: 1,331
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Marion, no longer a wife, no longer a wolfs-head, was once again the daughter of Sir Richard at the Lee.
She'd eaten lightly. No meat passed her lips. Young peas and sparrow grass, fresh cheese and soft bread with honey had been her fare.
She knew the day, even if the looks from the servants hadn't told her, the scent of lilac and linden in the air would have. Tonight was the joining of the great king and his queen. For three years, she and Robin, her husband, her lover, her friend, had loved each other fiercely and publicly in the great clearing -- sharing the blessing of their joining with all who were present, with those who were not, and with the land itself.
Tonight, it would take one of Tuck's miracles for her to leave the keep. But when Marion went up to her room earlier than usual, she saw a fine green bliaut laid on her bed and a the passage unguarded. Her waiting woman came in, helped her change into the dress binding it with a simple embroidered girdle, and bound her hair simply before accompanying her to the courtyard.
"Milady, I'll stay and watch for you. Your father won't know you've gone."
"Thank you, Frieda. You have been a good friend to me." Marion walked her horse out a side gate; one her woman told her would be unguarded tonight.
The sun was lowering in the west and the thin crescent moon shone just barely above it. Three wandering stars ranged from the horizon to the apex of the sky -- the war star, the king star, and the love star.
The twilight glowed an unearthly pearly green with the moon and three stars barely showing as she arrived in the clearing. Gentle hands helped her from her horse, the meadow smelled sweet with new-mown grass and clover and violets and tiny forget-me-nots carpeting the earth.
Without Robin, it seemed impossible she should be here. And yet, she was their lady of the May, even without him, this remembrance of the turning of the year was her responsibility.
Marion removed her simple shoes and walked to the center of the green. She heard a bodhran thrum and a high pipe playing in the distance. Herne would be here soon.
The awe she always felt when Herne was among them came over her. It might be he would choose another tonight, and she would fade quietly to the sidelines and witness the great rite. It might be that she would remain their May queen and, hair unbound, be allowed to choose.
That frightened her. She'd lain with no-one before her husband and no-one since. Would she choose a young man, unbedded, and teach him? Would she choose Herne himself? His touch with men could be rough, but he'd never been anything but gentle with her.
The shaman entered the field naked but for the deerskin and antlers. Beside him was a man in green, wearing a hood. Marion had not considered that Herne might have a new son. She couldn't see the new one's face, and her heart leapt thinking it might be her Robin come back to her.
Herne touched her hand to bring her focus back. "Do you accept him daughter? Will you bless this ground with him in the rite of summer?"
Her voice failed her, but she lowered her head in acquiescence.
Herne raised the cup and spoke the words. The Hooded Man sipped and handed the cup to her. The mead in it tasted of violets and woodruff, the herbs of spring and early summer.
Two women came and helped her off with her clothing, unbinding her hair so that it flamed red in the torchlight from around the clearing.
Two men helped the hooded man to remove his clothing, and he stood naked and erect before her. Flaxen Saxon hair gilded his strong body. Her Robin had been dark with eyes as green as the deep forest; this son of Herne was golden like ripe wheat with eyes of the summer sky.
He knelt to her and kissed her navel. She felt his tongue flick out and slide down to the tangle of curls that protected her center.
His arms wrapped around her, and Marion felt strong hands pull her down. His lips dragged up her body and he suckled briefly at each nipple. Her head lolled back as the flames of passion roused her body. She'd missed this loving; her body craved a man's touch.
The golden man's lips moved again, murmuring endearments into her skin. His teeth caught her earlobe, and she heard his voice for the first time, whispering, "Is this truly your wish?"
Marion met his eyes, saw them darken with desire, and held his gaze while she pressed her lips to his. She parted her lips, and he brushed his fingertips along her inner thigh asking her to open herself to him.
He drove up into her wetness, pulling her legs around him. She twined them tightly and bucked at the sensation. His hands held her hips in place and he ground against her, making her groan in pleasure.
One hand moved behind her head to cradle it as he tipped her back. Marion clung to him, dipping her fingers at the sweat pooled in the small of his back, luxuriating in the feel of his skin, soft as any woman's, under her hands. The hair on his chest and thighs piqued her higher and, when he insinuated one hand between him and found the nubbin of flesh that excited her, she cried out and panted toward her climax.
It was her husband's name she moaned in his ear, yet he seemed not to notice, kissing her deeply keeping her roused and bringing her back to ecstasy. Marion felt him leap like a salmon inside her, driving home as he bound himself to the land through her.
Her body arched under him one last time, as his hands and lips calmed her. Other couples began taking their pleasures on the outskirts of field, their joinings more private than those permitted the Lord and Lady of the May.
Once again his voice in her ear, "I'll take you to the river to wash."
He wrapped her in his cloak and walked proudly naked beside her to the river. She bound her hair back loosely, and let the cold water prickle at her skin and rinse away the scent of their mingled bodies.
When she came out, he had clothed himself, his flaxen hair once again covered by the hood marking him as Herne's son. He helped her on with her clothes and wrapped the girdle around her waist before lifting her onto her horse as easily as if she were a child.
Silently, he walked beside her palfrey. No words passed between them as she looked up at the stars. The war star and the king star had set, but the love star shone steady as it lowered toward the horizon. Robin would always be with her, as long as she could see that star.
The shimmering of the constellations above her, and the footfalls of her horse were all she needed. But Marion appreciated the silent presence walking beside her.
The side gate was no longer unmanned, but those guarding it were those she knew followed the old ways. They started a little, seeing the Hooded Man, but turned away as he walked her into the courtyard.
A groom took her horse. For a moment, she was afraid this unknown son of Herne would try to come to her bedroom. Instead he knelt again at her feet on the threshold of the tower. He took her hands and brushed his lips against her knuckles, then, turning it over, he pressed a passionate kiss to her palm.
Marion looked down and met those sky-blue eyes briefly, before entering her home and becoming her father's daughter once again.
Author: Fabrisse
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Characters: Lady Marion
Genre: Character Study
Rating: FRAO
Prompt: 24 -- space @ story_lottery
Summary: Sacred rites must be performed to keep the year on its wheel
Spoilers: Set between The Greatest Enemy and Herne's Son
Warning(s): Explicit Sex
Word Count: 1,331
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Marion, no longer a wife, no longer a wolfs-head, was once again the daughter of Sir Richard at the Lee.
She'd eaten lightly. No meat passed her lips. Young peas and sparrow grass, fresh cheese and soft bread with honey had been her fare.
She knew the day, even if the looks from the servants hadn't told her, the scent of lilac and linden in the air would have. Tonight was the joining of the great king and his queen. For three years, she and Robin, her husband, her lover, her friend, had loved each other fiercely and publicly in the great clearing -- sharing the blessing of their joining with all who were present, with those who were not, and with the land itself.
Tonight, it would take one of Tuck's miracles for her to leave the keep. But when Marion went up to her room earlier than usual, she saw a fine green bliaut laid on her bed and a the passage unguarded. Her waiting woman came in, helped her change into the dress binding it with a simple embroidered girdle, and bound her hair simply before accompanying her to the courtyard.
"Milady, I'll stay and watch for you. Your father won't know you've gone."
"Thank you, Frieda. You have been a good friend to me." Marion walked her horse out a side gate; one her woman told her would be unguarded tonight.
The sun was lowering in the west and the thin crescent moon shone just barely above it. Three wandering stars ranged from the horizon to the apex of the sky -- the war star, the king star, and the love star.
The twilight glowed an unearthly pearly green with the moon and three stars barely showing as she arrived in the clearing. Gentle hands helped her from her horse, the meadow smelled sweet with new-mown grass and clover and violets and tiny forget-me-nots carpeting the earth.
Without Robin, it seemed impossible she should be here. And yet, she was their lady of the May, even without him, this remembrance of the turning of the year was her responsibility.
Marion removed her simple shoes and walked to the center of the green. She heard a bodhran thrum and a high pipe playing in the distance. Herne would be here soon.
The awe she always felt when Herne was among them came over her. It might be he would choose another tonight, and she would fade quietly to the sidelines and witness the great rite. It might be that she would remain their May queen and, hair unbound, be allowed to choose.
That frightened her. She'd lain with no-one before her husband and no-one since. Would she choose a young man, unbedded, and teach him? Would she choose Herne himself? His touch with men could be rough, but he'd never been anything but gentle with her.
The shaman entered the field naked but for the deerskin and antlers. Beside him was a man in green, wearing a hood. Marion had not considered that Herne might have a new son. She couldn't see the new one's face, and her heart leapt thinking it might be her Robin come back to her.
Herne touched her hand to bring her focus back. "Do you accept him daughter? Will you bless this ground with him in the rite of summer?"
Her voice failed her, but she lowered her head in acquiescence.
Herne raised the cup and spoke the words. The Hooded Man sipped and handed the cup to her. The mead in it tasted of violets and woodruff, the herbs of spring and early summer.
Two women came and helped her off with her clothing, unbinding her hair so that it flamed red in the torchlight from around the clearing.
Two men helped the hooded man to remove his clothing, and he stood naked and erect before her. Flaxen Saxon hair gilded his strong body. Her Robin had been dark with eyes as green as the deep forest; this son of Herne was golden like ripe wheat with eyes of the summer sky.
He knelt to her and kissed her navel. She felt his tongue flick out and slide down to the tangle of curls that protected her center.
His arms wrapped around her, and Marion felt strong hands pull her down. His lips dragged up her body and he suckled briefly at each nipple. Her head lolled back as the flames of passion roused her body. She'd missed this loving; her body craved a man's touch.
The golden man's lips moved again, murmuring endearments into her skin. His teeth caught her earlobe, and she heard his voice for the first time, whispering, "Is this truly your wish?"
Marion met his eyes, saw them darken with desire, and held his gaze while she pressed her lips to his. She parted her lips, and he brushed his fingertips along her inner thigh asking her to open herself to him.
He drove up into her wetness, pulling her legs around him. She twined them tightly and bucked at the sensation. His hands held her hips in place and he ground against her, making her groan in pleasure.
One hand moved behind her head to cradle it as he tipped her back. Marion clung to him, dipping her fingers at the sweat pooled in the small of his back, luxuriating in the feel of his skin, soft as any woman's, under her hands. The hair on his chest and thighs piqued her higher and, when he insinuated one hand between him and found the nubbin of flesh that excited her, she cried out and panted toward her climax.
It was her husband's name she moaned in his ear, yet he seemed not to notice, kissing her deeply keeping her roused and bringing her back to ecstasy. Marion felt him leap like a salmon inside her, driving home as he bound himself to the land through her.
Her body arched under him one last time, as his hands and lips calmed her. Other couples began taking their pleasures on the outskirts of field, their joinings more private than those permitted the Lord and Lady of the May.
Once again his voice in her ear, "I'll take you to the river to wash."
He wrapped her in his cloak and walked proudly naked beside her to the river. She bound her hair back loosely, and let the cold water prickle at her skin and rinse away the scent of their mingled bodies.
When she came out, he had clothed himself, his flaxen hair once again covered by the hood marking him as Herne's son. He helped her on with her clothes and wrapped the girdle around her waist before lifting her onto her horse as easily as if she were a child.
Silently, he walked beside her palfrey. No words passed between them as she looked up at the stars. The war star and the king star had set, but the love star shone steady as it lowered toward the horizon. Robin would always be with her, as long as she could see that star.
The shimmering of the constellations above her, and the footfalls of her horse were all she needed. But Marion appreciated the silent presence walking beside her.
The side gate was no longer unmanned, but those guarding it were those she knew followed the old ways. They started a little, seeing the Hooded Man, but turned away as he walked her into the courtyard.
A groom took her horse. For a moment, she was afraid this unknown son of Herne would try to come to her bedroom. Instead he knelt again at her feet on the threshold of the tower. He took her hands and brushed his lips against her knuckles, then, turning it over, he pressed a passionate kiss to her palm.
Marion looked down and met those sky-blue eyes briefly, before entering her home and becoming her father's daughter once again.