Robin Hood: from the desert to the tower (1/3)
title: from the desert to the tower (1/3)
pairing: Guy/Marian, though there's Robin/Marian at the beginning
series rating: NC-17; part one: PG-13
word count part one: 1606
warnings: violence & sex in part three
a/n: Huge, huge thanks to my beta, starbuck_a_dale, who makes things make sense and is far too nice. The rest of this story is DONE and will be posted in the next few days. There are some notes at the bottom because I may have been a bit self-indulgent with the set-up. Concrit is always welcome.
Summary: Gratuitous post-2x13 wish-fulfillment. Marian's not dead, and she and Guy have a swordfight. And sex.
“I love Robin Hood.”
“You lie,” he says, but the total conviction in her voice pulls him up sharply. She sets her jaw, a gleam of triumph in her eyes, and he stops. He almost doesn't feel the arrow entering his shoulder like liquid fire, but then all of a sudden the pain explodes through his body and in the haze he can feel himself yanked back, hard, and then the world goes black.
*
Guy awakens into darkness. His throat is dry, his skin clammy with the night breeze coming in the open tent. And then the pain hits him like the flat of a blade to his head, and he gasps.
“I should have left you to die,” he hears Vaysey say, and as his eyes adjust he sees the Sheriff's figure coalesce just inside the tent flap.
“Why didn't you?” he asks through clenched teeth, gingerly exploring the arrow wound with his left hand. It has been cleaned and bandaged, but he can't move his right arm.
Vaysey turns to look at him, and his cold expression is eerie in the dusk light. “Because, despite your many idiotic failures and your stunning inability to keep that woman from getting under your skin, you are still more useful to me alive than dead.”
It is a marked turnabout from the summer, when Marian had to save him, and it is only later, during the agonizing, sleepless night, that he realizes Vaysey is alone here but for him. The Saracens are dubious allies at best, treacherous at worst.
*
They move the next night. Vaysey is nervous; clearly he wanted to leave before this. Even with the delay movement is difficult and painful for Guy.
“But where are we going?” he asks, when Acre has disappeared behind the dunes and all that surrounds them is white sand and purple sky. He could be lost here, gladly, forever. “We cannot return to England.”
“Which is why we're not going to England.”
*
She will never forget the way he said her name, with that gasp of relief, and how tightly he held her.
“I could have lost you,” Robin says into her hair, and then he turns her around and cups her face and showers it with kisses, bow dangling from his elbow.
“But you didn't,” she says, and then their attention is claimed by a groan from Richard and footsteps pounding on packed earth.
*
“Let's get married,” Robin says later that evening, his fingers stroking over hers. “For real.” He hasn't stopped touching her, and she's not sure whether it's from a feeling of relief or happiness that she finally told Gisborne. The latter annoys her slightly, but she's not sure why.
“No,” she says, but she places a kiss on his temple. “We had a plan, remember?”
“You were willing to marry me this morning,” he says, and she sees Much's eyes on them over Robin's shoulder.
“Because we were going to die. But we didn't, and we have work to do. But it will be so soon, Robin!” And it will be; alarmed at Robin's news Richard has decided to speed up the peace negotiations with Saladin and is making arrangements to leave at the end of the month.
She runs her thumbs over his callused palms. “I want my marriage to be joyous. I will not be able to relax, knowing the Sheriff is plotting against the king.”
Robin is clearly unhappy but he doesn't press the issue. Instead he buries his fingers in her hair and draws her close to kiss her. His lips are soft and insistent and taste of salt and wine, and when he flicks his tongue over her bottom lip she feels a stab of regret. But Richard has noticed them kissing in the corner and says something very close to lewd so she draws away and her resolve is back in place, even after she dreams of callused hands on her breasts that night.
It is only in the wee hours of the morning, when she is woken by the soft call of a desert bird, that she thinks of Guy's face and the devastation she has wrought. It worked, she tells herself over and over again, and righteousness is her talisman.
*
“You will NOT send me off like some-”
“Marian, we'll be only a few days behind you, a week at most. The peace is concluded, there's no reason to linger.” He has spoken to her fear, her uneasiness of him with Richard in this place. But he's right, it's finished, even if not really resolved, and she knows the only direction his footsteps will turn is home.
So he kisses her and she packs the things she has acquired in the past few weeks and he sees her to the port. They board a ship for Rome, the awkward trio of Marian, Allan, and Little John, and they stand on deck and watch until Robin and Much disappear into the brilliant morning sunlight.
It is clear John doesn't trust Allan yet, but he isn't openly antagonizing. Mostly they speak little, but Allan helps when John gets seasick, and she can tell that eventually the bond will mend.
She wishes, desperately, that she could think of something to say to Allan. But there's little that words are enough for, and beyond what is necessary they share only the occasional guilty look. They won, and they are glad they won, but it has not made them happy.
*
In Rome they are greeted by the Queen of England, who has never seen her realm, and Richard's sister Joanna, who smiles sardonically at the mention of her brother-the brother who took her dowry, ended her almost-romance with Philippe Auguste, and attempted to use her as a bargaining tool with Saladin's brother. For the first time in her life, Marian thanks God she was not born to greater privilege.
They linger there a few extra days, hoping Richard's fleet will arrive, but it doesn't. Finally they book passage; John is restless and they have only so much money. Allan comes to her quietly, offering to keep them in coin, but she knows it is better to move on.
Marian stands on deck as they put into the sunny harbor of Marseilles, this time able to enjoy the dramatic view: to their right are low, rocky mountains; to their left is the fortress of the Knights Hospitaller. In between is the city, teeming with activity and movement and languages they hadn't expected to hear once they left the Holy Land. It makes John uneasy. Allan however is in his element, and by the time they leave he's already telling jokes in Occitan.
They go overland to Paris, passing pilgrims on their approach to the city up the rue Saint-Jacques. They have left color and warmth behind them with the Mediterranean, and the city is muddy and grey. Yet for all the bleakness of late winter, the city holds as much marvel as Rome or Marseilles. And it is beginning to sound like home.
South of the river is the growing university, where Latin is spoken in a dozen different accents and Marian is beside herself with joy at being able to understand most of what she hears. It is almost as sweet as the French that is the language of the common folk. The accent here is quite different from that of home but at least it is familiar. It is not the whispering, guttural sounds of Arabic or the round, rhythmic syllables of Romanesco or Occitan, from which she can sometimes pick out words; it twangs and stops and slides over her tongue with the sweetness of familiarity. Finally, in this foreign place, they begin to feel that home is not so far away.
Before they go they stop to see the astonishing building rising over the river. It is no taller than buildings they had seen in the Holy Land or Rome, but it is something completely new: the lines seem to draw their eyes up to heaven, even beyond the marvels of the enormous windows and the slender, elegant bridges of stone that arc in support around the apse. They leave feeling solemn and proud. The bitterness of compromise with the Turk fades away: surely their God is magnificent, who has inspired such peerless architecture.
*
They charter a ship to take them down the Seine, and after days of navigating the river's twists and turns they are glad to stop at Rouen. They are asked their names by the dock official, and later that night a messenger comes to them at the inn with an invitation for the Lady Marian from Robert de Beaumont, Seneschal of Rouen. She really wants to sleep and to return to Nottingham as soon as possible, but it would be beyond rude to refuse. So they pack their things up and head into the chill night air.
It is not yet so late when they arrive, and the court is still in high spirits. Marian is very glad she acquired new gowns in fine silks in the Holy Land; if she'd come from England she would have felt like a provincial. Robert sees her enter and comes to greet her as she is announced, but his eyes slide away for just a moment and she follows his gaze. Realization and horror hit her like a hammer stroke when she sees Vaysey there, at the side of the hall. Her eyes dart over the crowd and there, turning as if time itself has slowed, is Guy.
on to part two
Notes
The Queen is Richard's wife Berengaria; she and Joanna were in Rome while Richard was on Crusade. Occitan is/was the language spoken in the south of France (and Eleanor of Aquitaine's first language); Romanesco is, as far as I can tell, the dialect spoken in Rome, as this was before the days of Standard Italian. Old French doesn't sound anything like modern French; think Canadian French if you pronounce all the letters. The building they see in Paris is Notre Dame, the first true gothic church. Robert de Beaumont was also a real person.
pairing: Guy/Marian, though there's Robin/Marian at the beginning
series rating: NC-17; part one: PG-13
word count part one: 1606
warnings: violence & sex in part three
a/n: Huge, huge thanks to my beta, starbuck_a_dale, who makes things make sense and is far too nice. The rest of this story is DONE and will be posted in the next few days. There are some notes at the bottom because I may have been a bit self-indulgent with the set-up. Concrit is always welcome.
Summary: Gratuitous post-2x13 wish-fulfillment. Marian's not dead, and she and Guy have a swordfight. And sex.
“I love Robin Hood.”
“You lie,” he says, but the total conviction in her voice pulls him up sharply. She sets her jaw, a gleam of triumph in her eyes, and he stops. He almost doesn't feel the arrow entering his shoulder like liquid fire, but then all of a sudden the pain explodes through his body and in the haze he can feel himself yanked back, hard, and then the world goes black.
*
Guy awakens into darkness. His throat is dry, his skin clammy with the night breeze coming in the open tent. And then the pain hits him like the flat of a blade to his head, and he gasps.
“I should have left you to die,” he hears Vaysey say, and as his eyes adjust he sees the Sheriff's figure coalesce just inside the tent flap.
“Why didn't you?” he asks through clenched teeth, gingerly exploring the arrow wound with his left hand. It has been cleaned and bandaged, but he can't move his right arm.
Vaysey turns to look at him, and his cold expression is eerie in the dusk light. “Because, despite your many idiotic failures and your stunning inability to keep that woman from getting under your skin, you are still more useful to me alive than dead.”
It is a marked turnabout from the summer, when Marian had to save him, and it is only later, during the agonizing, sleepless night, that he realizes Vaysey is alone here but for him. The Saracens are dubious allies at best, treacherous at worst.
*
They move the next night. Vaysey is nervous; clearly he wanted to leave before this. Even with the delay movement is difficult and painful for Guy.
“But where are we going?” he asks, when Acre has disappeared behind the dunes and all that surrounds them is white sand and purple sky. He could be lost here, gladly, forever. “We cannot return to England.”
“Which is why we're not going to England.”
*
She will never forget the way he said her name, with that gasp of relief, and how tightly he held her.
“I could have lost you,” Robin says into her hair, and then he turns her around and cups her face and showers it with kisses, bow dangling from his elbow.
“But you didn't,” she says, and then their attention is claimed by a groan from Richard and footsteps pounding on packed earth.
*
“Let's get married,” Robin says later that evening, his fingers stroking over hers. “For real.” He hasn't stopped touching her, and she's not sure whether it's from a feeling of relief or happiness that she finally told Gisborne. The latter annoys her slightly, but she's not sure why.
“No,” she says, but she places a kiss on his temple. “We had a plan, remember?”
“You were willing to marry me this morning,” he says, and she sees Much's eyes on them over Robin's shoulder.
“Because we were going to die. But we didn't, and we have work to do. But it will be so soon, Robin!” And it will be; alarmed at Robin's news Richard has decided to speed up the peace negotiations with Saladin and is making arrangements to leave at the end of the month.
She runs her thumbs over his callused palms. “I want my marriage to be joyous. I will not be able to relax, knowing the Sheriff is plotting against the king.”
Robin is clearly unhappy but he doesn't press the issue. Instead he buries his fingers in her hair and draws her close to kiss her. His lips are soft and insistent and taste of salt and wine, and when he flicks his tongue over her bottom lip she feels a stab of regret. But Richard has noticed them kissing in the corner and says something very close to lewd so she draws away and her resolve is back in place, even after she dreams of callused hands on her breasts that night.
It is only in the wee hours of the morning, when she is woken by the soft call of a desert bird, that she thinks of Guy's face and the devastation she has wrought. It worked, she tells herself over and over again, and righteousness is her talisman.
*
“You will NOT send me off like some-”
“Marian, we'll be only a few days behind you, a week at most. The peace is concluded, there's no reason to linger.” He has spoken to her fear, her uneasiness of him with Richard in this place. But he's right, it's finished, even if not really resolved, and she knows the only direction his footsteps will turn is home.
So he kisses her and she packs the things she has acquired in the past few weeks and he sees her to the port. They board a ship for Rome, the awkward trio of Marian, Allan, and Little John, and they stand on deck and watch until Robin and Much disappear into the brilliant morning sunlight.
It is clear John doesn't trust Allan yet, but he isn't openly antagonizing. Mostly they speak little, but Allan helps when John gets seasick, and she can tell that eventually the bond will mend.
She wishes, desperately, that she could think of something to say to Allan. But there's little that words are enough for, and beyond what is necessary they share only the occasional guilty look. They won, and they are glad they won, but it has not made them happy.
*
In Rome they are greeted by the Queen of England, who has never seen her realm, and Richard's sister Joanna, who smiles sardonically at the mention of her brother-the brother who took her dowry, ended her almost-romance with Philippe Auguste, and attempted to use her as a bargaining tool with Saladin's brother. For the first time in her life, Marian thanks God she was not born to greater privilege.
They linger there a few extra days, hoping Richard's fleet will arrive, but it doesn't. Finally they book passage; John is restless and they have only so much money. Allan comes to her quietly, offering to keep them in coin, but she knows it is better to move on.
Marian stands on deck as they put into the sunny harbor of Marseilles, this time able to enjoy the dramatic view: to their right are low, rocky mountains; to their left is the fortress of the Knights Hospitaller. In between is the city, teeming with activity and movement and languages they hadn't expected to hear once they left the Holy Land. It makes John uneasy. Allan however is in his element, and by the time they leave he's already telling jokes in Occitan.
They go overland to Paris, passing pilgrims on their approach to the city up the rue Saint-Jacques. They have left color and warmth behind them with the Mediterranean, and the city is muddy and grey. Yet for all the bleakness of late winter, the city holds as much marvel as Rome or Marseilles. And it is beginning to sound like home.
South of the river is the growing university, where Latin is spoken in a dozen different accents and Marian is beside herself with joy at being able to understand most of what she hears. It is almost as sweet as the French that is the language of the common folk. The accent here is quite different from that of home but at least it is familiar. It is not the whispering, guttural sounds of Arabic or the round, rhythmic syllables of Romanesco or Occitan, from which she can sometimes pick out words; it twangs and stops and slides over her tongue with the sweetness of familiarity. Finally, in this foreign place, they begin to feel that home is not so far away.
Before they go they stop to see the astonishing building rising over the river. It is no taller than buildings they had seen in the Holy Land or Rome, but it is something completely new: the lines seem to draw their eyes up to heaven, even beyond the marvels of the enormous windows and the slender, elegant bridges of stone that arc in support around the apse. They leave feeling solemn and proud. The bitterness of compromise with the Turk fades away: surely their God is magnificent, who has inspired such peerless architecture.
*
They charter a ship to take them down the Seine, and after days of navigating the river's twists and turns they are glad to stop at Rouen. They are asked their names by the dock official, and later that night a messenger comes to them at the inn with an invitation for the Lady Marian from Robert de Beaumont, Seneschal of Rouen. She really wants to sleep and to return to Nottingham as soon as possible, but it would be beyond rude to refuse. So they pack their things up and head into the chill night air.
It is not yet so late when they arrive, and the court is still in high spirits. Marian is very glad she acquired new gowns in fine silks in the Holy Land; if she'd come from England she would have felt like a provincial. Robert sees her enter and comes to greet her as she is announced, but his eyes slide away for just a moment and she follows his gaze. Realization and horror hit her like a hammer stroke when she sees Vaysey there, at the side of the hall. Her eyes dart over the crowd and there, turning as if time itself has slowed, is Guy.
on to part two
Notes
The Queen is Richard's wife Berengaria; she and Joanna were in Rome while Richard was on Crusade. Occitan is/was the language spoken in the south of France (and Eleanor of Aquitaine's first language); Romanesco is, as far as I can tell, the dialect spoken in Rome, as this was before the days of Standard Italian. Old French doesn't sound anything like modern French; think Canadian French if you pronounce all the letters. The building they see in Paris is Notre Dame, the first true gothic church. Robert de Beaumont was also a real person.