And In the End...
Title: And In the End...
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Eve, Queen Eleanor, King Richard
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Words: 1827
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
A/N: the stories of how Much and Eve find each other offer so many possibilities! This take place more than a year after 3x13 and almost 5 years (based on rochvelleth’s fabulous Timeline) after 1x09.
Summary: King Richard returns to England, and Much feels it is time to follow through on a promise...
>>-------------------->
And In the End...
by robinfanatic
He tried to remember the feel of her hand. Eve. She had captured his heart in the short time he’d been at Bonchurch. Her name in his head, on his lips, was the only thing that kept Much sane these days. There were times he would close his eyes and he could no longer picture her face. Then he’d hear her voice - the stars above know more than we, for they can see the hearts, the souls, the loves that cannot be - and everything about her rushed back to him.
I will come and find you, he’d promised.
When there is justice...
>>-------------------->
Much, Earl of Bonchurch, took his place at King Richard’s side during the days of the siege of Nottingham. The king held a grand Council after John’s supporters surrendered, then Much joined Richard’s retinue of knights and nobles on the journey south to Winchester.
People lined the roads. Much studied the crowds in every town, every village, searching their faces and wondering if Eve was among them. Had she heard the news of Richard’s return? He imagined her lovely smile, remembered the way she laughed with him, and how she felt in his arms when they’d said good-bye.
Much had never seen anything so grand as Winchester Cathedral. The pageantry of Richard’s coronation was awe-inspiring, yet his heart ached - for Robin, for Marian, for Allan - they should be here! His heart ached for another too. He was anxious to move on and begin his search for Eve in earnest.
Much greeted Queen Eleanor and her ladies after the ceremony. He’d had little time to speak with her in Nottingham. She’d been preoccupied with Richard and the affairs of state, and with Little John, he smiled to himself.
Much blushed when the queen mentioned how handsome he looked. They shared a quiet moment remembering Robin. “He would be proud of you, Lord Much,” she said.
Much finally had an opportunity to catch the king’s ear. “I should like to take my leave tomorrow if it would please Your Majesty,” he said.
“Of course, Lord Much. I gave you my word. You served me faithfully in the Holy Land and in England. You protected my mother. You,” Richard emphasized, “are Robin Hood. Go, my friend. God will be with you always.”
“There is one thing I wish to ask Your Majesty.” Much cleared his throat. “There is a lady--”
“Excellent!” Richard exclaimed, lifting his goblet in a toast. “Have you seen a young maid here who catches your eye?”
“Oh yes, I mean, no, not here, I mean, there are many beautiful and worthy young ladies here who would make any man... I mean...” Much turned a shade of scarlet then took a deep breath and stood straighter. “Your Majesty, there was a young woman in Bonchurch--she helped us fight the sheriff.”
“I should tell you to marry someone of noble birth,” Richard replied.
“I am only Earl by your good graces, Sire.” Much shifted nervously. “I love Eve. I wish to marry her.”
Compassion and a bit of wistfulness filled Richard’s face. He planted his hand on Much’s shoulder. “You have my blessing.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you!”
Much left the celebration and waded through a sea of people. Torches illuminated the streets, music filled the night. There was dancing, laughter, and singing...and...someone ...calling out to him? He stopped, looked round, scanned every face. Shaking his head, he walked across the square toward the inn.
“Lord Much!”
Much turned again, wondering if he was imagining a feminine voice repeating his name. He’d not had that much wine during the festivities.
“Much!”
There it was again off to his left. He peered into the massive crowd. Shadows fell across many faces.
“Please! Out of my way!” that same voice cried. It was louder this time.
Much could see a head of hair that appeared golden brown even in the dim light, its owner parting the revelers though not nearly as easily as Moses parting the Red Sea.
His heartbeat quickened. He wanted to believe... Could it be Eve?
He crossed the square, intent on watching that head whilst gently attempting to make his own way through the crowd. A young full-bosomed woman caught his arm and swung him round in a chaotic dance.
“What’s your hurry, sweetie?” she smiled with a toothless grin. “C’mon and dance.”
“No, really, I--”
Much’s dance partner handed him off to another woman. She swung him around ‘til he was dizzy before a third individual - male and reeking of ale - had a whirl with him. Intoxicated, the man nearly careened into the crowd. Much steered him away from a near collision and finally brought their movement to a halt.
“Thank you,” Much said, bowing to the man who swayed like a tree in a stiff wind until his companions took hold of him.
Much looked past them to try to get his bearings. There was no one calling his name. No sign of that person clawing a path through the crowd.
“You never told me you could dance.”
Much closed his eyes for a second. Had he truly heard that voice behind him? He turned. And then he saw her.
Much took Eve into his arms and began to dance, a slow dance. His heart pounded as he looked at her face. “Is it really you?” he asked.
Eve smiled, light from dozens of torches glinting off her moist eyes.
His lips met hers with a tender kiss. “Oh yes,” he said quietly. “I remember that kiss so well.” He took her again, running his hands through her hair, his mouth crushing hers. The passion of their kiss left them both breathless and all they could do was stare into each other’s faces searching for the years lost between them.
Eve ran her hand along Much’s cheek. “I have missed you.” She cradled his face with both hands and kissed him again. “And that,” she added, her forehead pressed to his.
Much twirled her around, the world spinning with them, the crowd a blur that melted into the music of the night. They were two amongst thousands, yet two alone. He saw only her; and she only him.
He ran a hand across her forehead and along her temple, traced her lips with his finger. Her soft brow, the way her nose wrinkled when he tickled - he wanted to memorize every feature so he would never forget. He’d missed the feel of her for far too long.
They spent a chaste night together in his room, in each other’s arms. They spoke for hours between kisses. They sang to each other softly. There were moments of laughter and moments of tears. Eve wept when she learned of his losses; cried for the times he nearly died. Much dried her tears and held her close.
The lovers found peaceful sleep, her head tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his heart. Sunlight crept through the window and he stirred, his heart beating strong beneath the comfort of her touch. He wanted to wake like this every day for the rest of his life.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and felt her sigh, her breath warm and sweet.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
Eve glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling like diamonds against the darkest night. “I have waited more than four years to hear those words.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I love you, Much,” she said.
“Yes?” he asked.
Shifting slightly, Eve pushed up on one arm and maneuvered half atop him so their faces met. “Yes.”
“I love you...now and for always, Eve.”
Much’s hand slid round her neck and he brought her lips to his. Eve pressed closer, willing to give herself wholly to him with just those words. Her passion spread like fire through him, his desire growing like the ache in his groin. He had never loved someone so much, never realized how loving someone - truly loving them - made the act of union special, sacred, and so beautiful. He wanted to make love to her.
Eve’s hand slid down his chest toward his ache but he stopped her. He twined his fingers through hers and brought their hands up to his lips, caressing hers tenderly.
“We must do this right,” he said. Rising from the bed, he stood up and straightened his tunic. He nodded, half to himself, half to Eve, then announced, “We’ll get married today.”
“Today?” She sat up, surprised.
“C’mon!” he said.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he took her hand.
Much pulled Eve to her feet. “To see the king.”
“Now?” Eve said, suddenly turning pale.
“Of course,” Much said confidently, “He gave me his blessing to marry you. Surely he will marry us today before we return to Bonchurch.”
Eve sat back down on the bed. “But...but... now? I cannot... Much... I am not dressed properly to meet the king, let alone to have him marry me.”
“You look beautiful.”
“That is not the point,” she said.
Much pondered Eve’s concern. He wouldn’t care if she were dressed in a flour sack. He would marry her no matter what.
Suddenly his eyes grew wide. “Come with me!” he exclaimed, tugging her toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“To find you a proper dress,” he said with a smile.
>>>-------------------->>
“Yes, yes, I see. This will not do at all,” Eleanor of Aquitaine told Eve. “A young woman should have a lovely gown for her wedding day because it is a special day.” He leaned close to Much then whispered, “She is quite beautiful, my lord.”
Much grinned. “And she is the bravest woman I know, yourself not withstanding, your Grace. She fought alongside us against the sheriff,” he said.
“Then she deserves a good life with a good man.” Eleanor looked at Eve. “I believe we can find something suitable for a bride, Lady Eve.”
Eve curtsied nervously. “Thank you, your Majesty.
One of her ladies in waiting turned to the queen and said something that made Eleanor’s smile widen. “Yes,” she nodded. “Perfect.”
>>>-------------------->>
Eve was radiant in a gown of royal blue. A white silk panel cascaded from the high waist and swept down to the floor. Wide sleeves were lined with the same silk; the neckline and waist alive with intricate embroidered patterns and set off with sparkling gems. Her hair was pulled up; soft curls fell around her face.
Applause erupted all around them as King Richard announced ‘you may kiss your bride’.
Eve’s smile was meant for Much alone, her eyes beckoned him. His kiss was tender, like their first.
Cheers swelled in the cathedral and the bell began to peal.
And in the end it was a beginning for Much and Eve who had a long and happy marriage with five children in a little village called Bonchurch.
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Eve, Queen Eleanor, King Richard
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Words: 1827
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
A/N: the stories of how Much and Eve find each other offer so many possibilities! This take place more than a year after 3x13 and almost 5 years (based on rochvelleth’s fabulous Timeline) after 1x09.
Summary: King Richard returns to England, and Much feels it is time to follow through on a promise...
>>-------------------->
And In the End...
by robinfanatic
He tried to remember the feel of her hand. Eve. She had captured his heart in the short time he’d been at Bonchurch. Her name in his head, on his lips, was the only thing that kept Much sane these days. There were times he would close his eyes and he could no longer picture her face. Then he’d hear her voice - the stars above know more than we, for they can see the hearts, the souls, the loves that cannot be - and everything about her rushed back to him.
I will come and find you, he’d promised.
When there is justice...
>>-------------------->
Much, Earl of Bonchurch, took his place at King Richard’s side during the days of the siege of Nottingham. The king held a grand Council after John’s supporters surrendered, then Much joined Richard’s retinue of knights and nobles on the journey south to Winchester.
People lined the roads. Much studied the crowds in every town, every village, searching their faces and wondering if Eve was among them. Had she heard the news of Richard’s return? He imagined her lovely smile, remembered the way she laughed with him, and how she felt in his arms when they’d said good-bye.
Much had never seen anything so grand as Winchester Cathedral. The pageantry of Richard’s coronation was awe-inspiring, yet his heart ached - for Robin, for Marian, for Allan - they should be here! His heart ached for another too. He was anxious to move on and begin his search for Eve in earnest.
Much greeted Queen Eleanor and her ladies after the ceremony. He’d had little time to speak with her in Nottingham. She’d been preoccupied with Richard and the affairs of state, and with Little John, he smiled to himself.
Much blushed when the queen mentioned how handsome he looked. They shared a quiet moment remembering Robin. “He would be proud of you, Lord Much,” she said.
Much finally had an opportunity to catch the king’s ear. “I should like to take my leave tomorrow if it would please Your Majesty,” he said.
“Of course, Lord Much. I gave you my word. You served me faithfully in the Holy Land and in England. You protected my mother. You,” Richard emphasized, “are Robin Hood. Go, my friend. God will be with you always.”
“There is one thing I wish to ask Your Majesty.” Much cleared his throat. “There is a lady--”
“Excellent!” Richard exclaimed, lifting his goblet in a toast. “Have you seen a young maid here who catches your eye?”
“Oh yes, I mean, no, not here, I mean, there are many beautiful and worthy young ladies here who would make any man... I mean...” Much turned a shade of scarlet then took a deep breath and stood straighter. “Your Majesty, there was a young woman in Bonchurch--she helped us fight the sheriff.”
“I should tell you to marry someone of noble birth,” Richard replied.
“I am only Earl by your good graces, Sire.” Much shifted nervously. “I love Eve. I wish to marry her.”
Compassion and a bit of wistfulness filled Richard’s face. He planted his hand on Much’s shoulder. “You have my blessing.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you!”
Much left the celebration and waded through a sea of people. Torches illuminated the streets, music filled the night. There was dancing, laughter, and singing...and...someone ...calling out to him? He stopped, looked round, scanned every face. Shaking his head, he walked across the square toward the inn.
“Lord Much!”
Much turned again, wondering if he was imagining a feminine voice repeating his name. He’d not had that much wine during the festivities.
“Much!”
There it was again off to his left. He peered into the massive crowd. Shadows fell across many faces.
“Please! Out of my way!” that same voice cried. It was louder this time.
Much could see a head of hair that appeared golden brown even in the dim light, its owner parting the revelers though not nearly as easily as Moses parting the Red Sea.
His heartbeat quickened. He wanted to believe... Could it be Eve?
He crossed the square, intent on watching that head whilst gently attempting to make his own way through the crowd. A young full-bosomed woman caught his arm and swung him round in a chaotic dance.
“What’s your hurry, sweetie?” she smiled with a toothless grin. “C’mon and dance.”
“No, really, I--”
Much’s dance partner handed him off to another woman. She swung him around ‘til he was dizzy before a third individual - male and reeking of ale - had a whirl with him. Intoxicated, the man nearly careened into the crowd. Much steered him away from a near collision and finally brought their movement to a halt.
“Thank you,” Much said, bowing to the man who swayed like a tree in a stiff wind until his companions took hold of him.
Much looked past them to try to get his bearings. There was no one calling his name. No sign of that person clawing a path through the crowd.
“You never told me you could dance.”
Much closed his eyes for a second. Had he truly heard that voice behind him? He turned. And then he saw her.
Much took Eve into his arms and began to dance, a slow dance. His heart pounded as he looked at her face. “Is it really you?” he asked.
Eve smiled, light from dozens of torches glinting off her moist eyes.
His lips met hers with a tender kiss. “Oh yes,” he said quietly. “I remember that kiss so well.” He took her again, running his hands through her hair, his mouth crushing hers. The passion of their kiss left them both breathless and all they could do was stare into each other’s faces searching for the years lost between them.
Eve ran her hand along Much’s cheek. “I have missed you.” She cradled his face with both hands and kissed him again. “And that,” she added, her forehead pressed to his.
Much twirled her around, the world spinning with them, the crowd a blur that melted into the music of the night. They were two amongst thousands, yet two alone. He saw only her; and she only him.
He ran a hand across her forehead and along her temple, traced her lips with his finger. Her soft brow, the way her nose wrinkled when he tickled - he wanted to memorize every feature so he would never forget. He’d missed the feel of her for far too long.
They spent a chaste night together in his room, in each other’s arms. They spoke for hours between kisses. They sang to each other softly. There were moments of laughter and moments of tears. Eve wept when she learned of his losses; cried for the times he nearly died. Much dried her tears and held her close.
The lovers found peaceful sleep, her head tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his heart. Sunlight crept through the window and he stirred, his heart beating strong beneath the comfort of her touch. He wanted to wake like this every day for the rest of his life.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and felt her sigh, her breath warm and sweet.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
Eve glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling like diamonds against the darkest night. “I have waited more than four years to hear those words.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I love you, Much,” she said.
“Yes?” he asked.
Shifting slightly, Eve pushed up on one arm and maneuvered half atop him so their faces met. “Yes.”
“I love you...now and for always, Eve.”
Much’s hand slid round her neck and he brought her lips to his. Eve pressed closer, willing to give herself wholly to him with just those words. Her passion spread like fire through him, his desire growing like the ache in his groin. He had never loved someone so much, never realized how loving someone - truly loving them - made the act of union special, sacred, and so beautiful. He wanted to make love to her.
Eve’s hand slid down his chest toward his ache but he stopped her. He twined his fingers through hers and brought their hands up to his lips, caressing hers tenderly.
“We must do this right,” he said. Rising from the bed, he stood up and straightened his tunic. He nodded, half to himself, half to Eve, then announced, “We’ll get married today.”
“Today?” She sat up, surprised.
“C’mon!” he said.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he took her hand.
Much pulled Eve to her feet. “To see the king.”
“Now?” Eve said, suddenly turning pale.
“Of course,” Much said confidently, “He gave me his blessing to marry you. Surely he will marry us today before we return to Bonchurch.”
Eve sat back down on the bed. “But...but... now? I cannot... Much... I am not dressed properly to meet the king, let alone to have him marry me.”
“You look beautiful.”
“That is not the point,” she said.
Much pondered Eve’s concern. He wouldn’t care if she were dressed in a flour sack. He would marry her no matter what.
Suddenly his eyes grew wide. “Come with me!” he exclaimed, tugging her toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“To find you a proper dress,” he said with a smile.
>>>-------------------->>
“Yes, yes, I see. This will not do at all,” Eleanor of Aquitaine told Eve. “A young woman should have a lovely gown for her wedding day because it is a special day.” He leaned close to Much then whispered, “She is quite beautiful, my lord.”
Much grinned. “And she is the bravest woman I know, yourself not withstanding, your Grace. She fought alongside us against the sheriff,” he said.
“Then she deserves a good life with a good man.” Eleanor looked at Eve. “I believe we can find something suitable for a bride, Lady Eve.”
Eve curtsied nervously. “Thank you, your Majesty.
One of her ladies in waiting turned to the queen and said something that made Eleanor’s smile widen. “Yes,” she nodded. “Perfect.”
>>>-------------------->>
Eve was radiant in a gown of royal blue. A white silk panel cascaded from the high waist and swept down to the floor. Wide sleeves were lined with the same silk; the neckline and waist alive with intricate embroidered patterns and set off with sparkling gems. Her hair was pulled up; soft curls fell around her face.
Applause erupted all around them as King Richard announced ‘you may kiss your bride’.
Eve’s smile was meant for Much alone, her eyes beckoned him. His kiss was tender, like their first.
Cheers swelled in the cathedral and the bell began to peal.
And in the end it was a beginning for Much and Eve who had a long and happy marriage with five children in a little village called Bonchurch.