Robin Hood: the red queen and the white
Title: the red queen and the white
Paring: Isabella/Marian
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: very, very AU
Word Count: 585
A/N: For snowystingray in the isabella_giz Secret Santa. I sat down to write Mazabella kicking some Team Castle ass and . . . ended up with this. I hope you find this sort of Mazabella okay as well! Happy Holidays!
It is late afternoon, nearly dusk. There is plenty of light still to work by, but their embroidery is laid aside, long forgotten. Marian doesn't quite remember how they got here, what twists and turns of conversation led them to this point, what chain of words and glances since Isabella's arrival some months ago has brought them here, alone in a sitting room in the castle, knee to knee, silent.
Isabella slips a hand under Marian's chin. Her touch is light, questioning, and Marian tries to read her expression. Isabella's eyes are so familiar, so like her brother's, and yet alien. Marian can't tell what Isabella's thinking, and even if she thought she could she wouldn't trust it. Even if Guy doesn't see it, even if Robin doesn't, Marian does.
Marian knows that this woman has a hundred different masks, that she will say what she needs to and play the role the situation calls for. She knows that this is just another scene for Isabella, another chance to direct things in a way that will be useful for her. Marian knows because she recognizes something of herself in the woman.
Yet the knowledge of her slippery, changing character does not make Marian draw back, does not make her turn away. She's too intrigued at this new challenge, and too wary to reveal her discomfort. Her mouth is dry, suddenly, and she finds herself licking her lips. Isabella's gaze is intent on hers, and Marian wonders what she sees in her eyes.
Isabella's fingers press lightly, drawing Marian forward, and she follows. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels lips on hers, and she's sure she's not supposed to feel like this--cheeks burning, stomach twisting--but she just tells herself that it's because this is something forbidden. And she's never been one for rules.
The lips on Marian's are soft, gentle, and she finds herself pressing in, looking for that force she found when kissing Robin or Guy. Isabella sucks in a breath before responding, before running her tongue along Marian's bottom lip. Her hands move up to cup Marian's face; Marian reaches out her own hand, uncertainly, finding the soft curve of hip under her palm, a jut of bone under her thumb. She opens her mouth to Isabella, whose tongue curls around hers. Marian cannot help the moan that rises unexpectedly from deep in her throat.
Isabella's hand on her cheek twitches. She pulls back, pressing a last, soft kiss onto Marian's lips. Marian swallows, afraid to open her eyes. She licks her lips again; the feeling of the other woman's touch lingers. Finally, she opens her eyes. She doesn't look straight at Isabella's, and maybe that's why she notices the crease above her brow. Her eyes flick down to see Isabella watching her. Almost immediately the crease smooths and the hint of a smile tugs at Isabella's lips.
Marian raises an eyebrow just a hair. She's not sure what Isabella's playing at, but she knows there's something going on. And she knows she's just as skilled a player. Marian draws her hand back from Isabella's hip, letting her fingers trail lightly down her thigh. Isabella's eyes drop down to her hand, betraying her, and Marian feels a brief moment of triumph. She reaches for her embroidery, knowing that this round, at least, they are even.
Paring: Isabella/Marian
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: very, very AU
Word Count: 585
A/N: For snowystingray in the isabella_giz Secret Santa. I sat down to write Mazabella kicking some Team Castle ass and . . . ended up with this. I hope you find this sort of Mazabella okay as well! Happy Holidays!
It is late afternoon, nearly dusk. There is plenty of light still to work by, but their embroidery is laid aside, long forgotten. Marian doesn't quite remember how they got here, what twists and turns of conversation led them to this point, what chain of words and glances since Isabella's arrival some months ago has brought them here, alone in a sitting room in the castle, knee to knee, silent.
Isabella slips a hand under Marian's chin. Her touch is light, questioning, and Marian tries to read her expression. Isabella's eyes are so familiar, so like her brother's, and yet alien. Marian can't tell what Isabella's thinking, and even if she thought she could she wouldn't trust it. Even if Guy doesn't see it, even if Robin doesn't, Marian does.
Marian knows that this woman has a hundred different masks, that she will say what she needs to and play the role the situation calls for. She knows that this is just another scene for Isabella, another chance to direct things in a way that will be useful for her. Marian knows because she recognizes something of herself in the woman.
Yet the knowledge of her slippery, changing character does not make Marian draw back, does not make her turn away. She's too intrigued at this new challenge, and too wary to reveal her discomfort. Her mouth is dry, suddenly, and she finds herself licking her lips. Isabella's gaze is intent on hers, and Marian wonders what she sees in her eyes.
Isabella's fingers press lightly, drawing Marian forward, and she follows. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels lips on hers, and she's sure she's not supposed to feel like this--cheeks burning, stomach twisting--but she just tells herself that it's because this is something forbidden. And she's never been one for rules.
The lips on Marian's are soft, gentle, and she finds herself pressing in, looking for that force she found when kissing Robin or Guy. Isabella sucks in a breath before responding, before running her tongue along Marian's bottom lip. Her hands move up to cup Marian's face; Marian reaches out her own hand, uncertainly, finding the soft curve of hip under her palm, a jut of bone under her thumb. She opens her mouth to Isabella, whose tongue curls around hers. Marian cannot help the moan that rises unexpectedly from deep in her throat.
Isabella's hand on her cheek twitches. She pulls back, pressing a last, soft kiss onto Marian's lips. Marian swallows, afraid to open her eyes. She licks her lips again; the feeling of the other woman's touch lingers. Finally, she opens her eyes. She doesn't look straight at Isabella's, and maybe that's why she notices the crease above her brow. Her eyes flick down to see Isabella watching her. Almost immediately the crease smooths and the hint of a smile tugs at Isabella's lips.
Marian raises an eyebrow just a hair. She's not sure what Isabella's playing at, but she knows there's something going on. And she knows she's just as skilled a player. Marian draws her hand back from Isabella's hip, letting her fingers trail lightly down her thigh. Isabella's eyes drop down to her hand, betraying her, and Marian feels a brief moment of triumph. She reaches for her embroidery, knowing that this round, at least, they are even.