Fic: Waiting on a Promise (Robin Hood: Robin/Marian, PG)
Feeling terribly apathetic and uncreative this week (I don't think I could write ten words together that didn't make me annoyed at my inability to be even slightly original). Anyway, today I ended up with this, which I felt good enough about to share.
Title: Waiting on a Promise
Author: Jen (jazzfic)
Rating: PG
Characters: Robin/Marian
Words: 667
Disclaimer: This is the musings of a fan who claims no ownership.
Summary: When young men leave for the crusades, they can only look forward. They surrender to it, and it blinds them forever.
It was said without warning and without apology: when you wake, my love, I'll be gone. And he was true to his word, for she opened her eyes to a silent world and knew immediately who was missing from it.
Will you return?
He let go of her hand, opening the shutters to a cloudy dawn, where the bleakness of winter was still heavy in the air. There was a coolness, an immediacy in the gesture; his horse, tied to a post outside, nickered softly in recognition. Robin gazed at her, brow furrowed, full of dreams and sickened by the faults that lead men to power, and in that moment she saw him nod. Yes.
But there was no promise. A promise was a demand that Marian knew in her heart could never be asked. It would take them nowhere; one year, two years, five--it didn't matter. They could not make promises when taught to treat king and country as the most important thing in their lives.
Marian, sheltered from every pair of prying eyes (but for his--always his) had tried to believe this, and found it harder than anything she'd ever been asked to do. Why travel to the bare ends of civilisation to draw swords beside a leader who might never return to his own lands? She hated this desire to expel all unruly acts, when all it left behind were countless women shedding helpless, endless tears. She refused to believe herself among them. But this was a thin resolution, fading fast; in truth, it had half-broken already--every time over the last few months when she watched him practice his fighting with Much, or caught him looking past her, lost in thought, when they ran out of things to speak of. Their youthful courtship was taken over by a yearning of Robin's that was no longer grounded in the chaste sweetness of a kiss.
This was the battle that is kept always at home. When young men leave for the crusades, they can only look forward. They surrender to it, and it blinds them forever.
Feeling overwhelmed her--she saw him take to the night and wanted to rush from her bed and catch him as he left--fell, descended, swore an oath to fight, whatever was behind this cruel fact. She didn't know what it was that kept her there, what made her obey his pathetic, needy farewell, and trust herself to sleep again. Perhaps being in love had pulled all clear and rational thought away, hidden it in a tangle of sheets and murmurings and fear, a great mess that made her want to hate him, if only she had it in her to try. He would have Much. He would have his yearnings fulfilled. Robin would rule the world, if that were possible (and she was sure it was, on nights like these, when she saw his eyes and the strength behind them). He would fight it for every man and his cause, if the reward was nothing more than having the world love him back. He told her that he loved her, but he left her there, and he made no promises. In that moment, if she could have allowed herself to forget, she would have done it without thinking.
When you wake, my love, I'll be gone.
Then come back, please...
It was said without apology, because he did not believe one was needed. That was how Robin's mind worked. He believed in something far greater. One day, Marian thought, he would recognise this, it would come to be rearranged, as maturity and knowledge gave him a better insight into what their love really meant. She knew this to be true, though it hurt her all the same.
When you wake--
He wasn't gone, not really. Robin of Locksley mightn't make promises, but she was sure she could make them to herself. While waiting, in their dreams, she believed she would fight by his side.
Title: Waiting on a Promise
Author: Jen (jazzfic)
Rating: PG
Characters: Robin/Marian
Words: 667
Disclaimer: This is the musings of a fan who claims no ownership.
Summary: When young men leave for the crusades, they can only look forward. They surrender to it, and it blinds them forever.
It was said without warning and without apology: when you wake, my love, I'll be gone. And he was true to his word, for she opened her eyes to a silent world and knew immediately who was missing from it.
Will you return?
He let go of her hand, opening the shutters to a cloudy dawn, where the bleakness of winter was still heavy in the air. There was a coolness, an immediacy in the gesture; his horse, tied to a post outside, nickered softly in recognition. Robin gazed at her, brow furrowed, full of dreams and sickened by the faults that lead men to power, and in that moment she saw him nod. Yes.
But there was no promise. A promise was a demand that Marian knew in her heart could never be asked. It would take them nowhere; one year, two years, five--it didn't matter. They could not make promises when taught to treat king and country as the most important thing in their lives.
Marian, sheltered from every pair of prying eyes (but for his--always his) had tried to believe this, and found it harder than anything she'd ever been asked to do. Why travel to the bare ends of civilisation to draw swords beside a leader who might never return to his own lands? She hated this desire to expel all unruly acts, when all it left behind were countless women shedding helpless, endless tears. She refused to believe herself among them. But this was a thin resolution, fading fast; in truth, it had half-broken already--every time over the last few months when she watched him practice his fighting with Much, or caught him looking past her, lost in thought, when they ran out of things to speak of. Their youthful courtship was taken over by a yearning of Robin's that was no longer grounded in the chaste sweetness of a kiss.
This was the battle that is kept always at home. When young men leave for the crusades, they can only look forward. They surrender to it, and it blinds them forever.
Feeling overwhelmed her--she saw him take to the night and wanted to rush from her bed and catch him as he left--fell, descended, swore an oath to fight, whatever was behind this cruel fact. She didn't know what it was that kept her there, what made her obey his pathetic, needy farewell, and trust herself to sleep again. Perhaps being in love had pulled all clear and rational thought away, hidden it in a tangle of sheets and murmurings and fear, a great mess that made her want to hate him, if only she had it in her to try. He would have Much. He would have his yearnings fulfilled. Robin would rule the world, if that were possible (and she was sure it was, on nights like these, when she saw his eyes and the strength behind them). He would fight it for every man and his cause, if the reward was nothing more than having the world love him back. He told her that he loved her, but he left her there, and he made no promises. In that moment, if she could have allowed herself to forget, she would have done it without thinking.
When you wake, my love, I'll be gone.
Then come back, please...
It was said without apology, because he did not believe one was needed. That was how Robin's mind worked. He believed in something far greater. One day, Marian thought, he would recognise this, it would come to be rearranged, as maturity and knowledge gave him a better insight into what their love really meant. She knew this to be true, though it hurt her all the same.
When you wake--
He wasn't gone, not really. Robin of Locksley mightn't make promises, but she was sure she could make them to herself. While waiting, in their dreams, she believed she would fight by his side.