fic: fully dead already but forever young (allan a dale; robin hood; rating: pg)
Title: Fully Dead Already but Forever Young
Author: Lily
Pairing: Allen POV (Robin/Marian)
Summary: Allan A Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore.
Spoilers: Up to "For England", AU if you want
Word Count: 1,600+
Written For: sophieisgod in the saythewordsthen ficathon, who requested "ANGST! Other character's perspectives".
Allan-a-Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore. Stealing was never really taboo where he came from (so long as people weren't stealing from him), and it only really mattered if you got caught. It doesn't mean he's without principles; he's intensely loyal to Robin - he remembers what it was like when they first met and his feet were kicking two feet above the soil and his breath was being squeezed out of his body like a fish flailing on land. It's kind of hard to forget a debt like that.
'Course, that doesn't mean that he always understands why they can't make their own living. Fine, trade it all in for food and give it to the poor, he doesn't really care about bread but what's the harm in making a little coin on the side? He's not taking it from anyone who isn't volunteering to play and it's not his fault if they are so easily duped.
Three years ago, it would've been natural to spend a couple nights in a tavern, conning the means to pay for his bed and breakfast but now he's made to question his ethics. He doesn't really like that.
The only thing he ever fully understands about Robin, is his willingness, no, his need to put Marian first. No matter what the danger or situation, she is his number one priority. It's completely understandable and there have been more than a couple occasions when he was ready to put Djaq or his brother above the gang. So it would be sweet, really, how he places her life above his own, above even his precious England itself; except that Robin seems to be the only one who can get away with it while Allan is left to go through life without a family.
He spends his free time around the castle looking for amusement and after a month he understands why Guy coupled with a maid. A month later and he realises why he left her. It appears that the ladies of court are only interested in the soldiers when they know they can get something out of him, so that the whole relationship depends on what they are given to stop their incessant whining. He doesn't see Marian much at first, partly because he's ashamed to see her and partly because she keeps to herself.
It's almost pathetic how much Guy worries about her state of mind and happiness when she's probably not even behind the locked door, probably hundreds of miles away in the forest with her sweet little martyr that can give up luxuries but can't give a bloke a second chance.
Lies trickle from Marian’s lips as easily as rain falls from the sky and he's swept up in her charm. When in the castle, he sometimes believed he had an honest chance; they were so similar in their ability to manipulate situations and find any means to get their way. He respected that in her and tried not to be insulted when the respect wasn't returned. When her voice got authoritative and her grip like she were reigning in stallions, he saw why they could never be together. She lived by her convictions, literally for King and Country. There was no room left in her heart for anything other than fighting (except of course him).
Her eyes can portray a feline anger and soften at the sound of a crying babe. He knows too much about her secrets, so she looks at him as she's kissing someone else and his feet turn cold.
There is an exception - she never looks anywhere else when Robin's lips are at her neck; instead, her eyes close as she arches into him. It was only a matter of time until Allan left the forest. There was no chance of nobility in his bloodline, so the only way he could he'd get a lady to look at him like that was to have a full purse of coins.
Or so he thought.
He knows that it is envy that makes him hate Robin, but he grabs it all the same, allowing it to build into an idea bigger than reality, something to be feared. Allan had been away too long to remember that Robin sometimes failed, that he was only human. As usual, Allan prefers to blame anyone but himself, even when the idol he created disappoints him.
He discovers later that Robin and Marian have the annoying habit of talking to one another when apart. At first he thought it was only Robin who indulged in fantasies due to lack of proper sleep or his romantic ideals carrying him away. He would mumble conversations in the dark addressed to her until he finally succumbed to the night.
Now, as he watches Marian, utterly defeated and disgraced in a barn, he hears her whisper his name to the night and seems to convince herself that the wind rattling her chains is his answer.
It's exactly the type of ritual that they would have, a way to stay together even when apart and Allan wants nothing more than to fade back into the shadows before she looks up from the dirt and hay to implore him with her large, brown eyes. He knows he could resist any woman that he wanted - really, he could. He just choose that moment to run. It was purely a tactical decision.
His situation had changed. Skimming the finest cream off the top was fine with him; it was just a privilege that he had earned. But it troubled him if there was no plan to deliver the rest to the others eventually, and he'd never heard of any good coming from murdering the farmer. So it was to Djaq's and Will's faces that he ran, to John's stubbornness and even to Much's bottomless stomach.
If you asked him, he would never admit that he missed Robin's smile and presumptuous moral indignation or how relaxed they had all felt when Marian came to visit.
For three nights and days after they stopped the Sheriff's plot with a fake King Richard she stayed with them, wrapped in his arms as they tried to find a permanent camp. She seemed to have let all her misgivings and scruples melt away until eventually she realised that just because something didn't affect her in the forest, didn't mean that it didn't exist. The afternoon she returned home was her last; any future visits included mounds of charcoal and ash. That's what happens when you don't plan for the future while you live in the moment; like Allan, she learned that the hard way.
Their strength is toxic. He's watched her go wild in Nottingham after a couple days without news from him and then he had to watch Robin's pacing while the ship rocked Djaq and Will to sleep. It's hard to fight the urge to slit all their happy little throats in the night, and it's either a miracle or Much's watchful eye that keeps him behaved (he still isn't trusted to be alone).
He thought that it couldn't get any worse than the torture of waiting for the heat to kill him until she arrives and he finds that it's the strangest thing, seeing them here together. He's endured months worth of moping on the ship's journey and this is what hits him in the gut so hard it's hard to breathe. Only she could be all smiles at the thought of proclamations of love before a certain death.
Strangely, he loves her all the more for it.
When Carter came to rescue them, half of his body was elated at the thought of escape - he hadn't returned to the gang when the tide was turning just to die in the desert with a parched tongue. The other half looked at their embracing form, now free from knots and wished that Robin and Marian had been tied elsewhere, somewhere that the others couldn't find easily.
As soon as their hands were free, she was then, with all the gentleness of the sea breeze that ushered them into the Holy Lands and they were staring into each others eyes as their faces slowly drew nearer. Their lips joined with a sigh and Robin’s hands cupped her face while her fingers hungrily raked through his hair. Allan was no stranger to bawdy displays of affection, but this was unlike any kiss he had observed between a wench and drunken nobleman after a feast. It felt unnatural to keep looking at the way they clung to each other; it was one long kiss that Allan didn’t want to see end.
There are loud displays of bravado and he finds the whole matter tiring so as he fights for a King that can't be bothered to return home, he loses his energy. This is to be expected of a starving, dehydrated man. This is the final curtain call and he's going to be late getting on the stage. His heart isn't in the moves that block the blows, his mind distracted from the swords and fists at the thought of the future. They will be married, everyone will return to England in a happy little caravan with ale enough for all. Without an angle to play, or a lady to watch, England loses all of it's its appeal for him since he don't really plan on wasting his life, living with Much and watching their love stretch as long as their lives.
Before being knocked out, he questions why they deserve the happily ever after that has always eluded him. He wakes up later, still unable to appreciate that by the time he makes his way back to camp, he'll find all his friends alive and celebrating. Yet he still wants the best for her, wants her to be happy. It's a conundrum of the worst kind because it claws at his heart.
Allan-A-Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore.
Author's Notes: Title taken from Star's song "Death to Death". Thanks to ninamazing for the lovely beta of my constant abuse of tense changes, and thanks to mo_shmoe for saving me from song!fic.
Author's Notes 2: Since Allan hasn’t returned to the camp yet, maybe Marian is still alive in this fic - I leave that up to the reader because technically, this ficathon challenge was “the finale that never took place”, so feel free to interpret as you wish.
Author: Lily
Pairing: Allen POV (Robin/Marian)
Summary: Allan A Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore.
Spoilers: Up to "For England", AU if you want
Word Count: 1,600+
Written For: sophieisgod in the saythewordsthen ficathon, who requested "ANGST! Other character's perspectives".
Allan-a-Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore. Stealing was never really taboo where he came from (so long as people weren't stealing from him), and it only really mattered if you got caught. It doesn't mean he's without principles; he's intensely loyal to Robin - he remembers what it was like when they first met and his feet were kicking two feet above the soil and his breath was being squeezed out of his body like a fish flailing on land. It's kind of hard to forget a debt like that.
'Course, that doesn't mean that he always understands why they can't make their own living. Fine, trade it all in for food and give it to the poor, he doesn't really care about bread but what's the harm in making a little coin on the side? He's not taking it from anyone who isn't volunteering to play and it's not his fault if they are so easily duped.
Three years ago, it would've been natural to spend a couple nights in a tavern, conning the means to pay for his bed and breakfast but now he's made to question his ethics. He doesn't really like that.
The only thing he ever fully understands about Robin, is his willingness, no, his need to put Marian first. No matter what the danger or situation, she is his number one priority. It's completely understandable and there have been more than a couple occasions when he was ready to put Djaq or his brother above the gang. So it would be sweet, really, how he places her life above his own, above even his precious England itself; except that Robin seems to be the only one who can get away with it while Allan is left to go through life without a family.
He spends his free time around the castle looking for amusement and after a month he understands why Guy coupled with a maid. A month later and he realises why he left her. It appears that the ladies of court are only interested in the soldiers when they know they can get something out of him, so that the whole relationship depends on what they are given to stop their incessant whining. He doesn't see Marian much at first, partly because he's ashamed to see her and partly because she keeps to herself.
It's almost pathetic how much Guy worries about her state of mind and happiness when she's probably not even behind the locked door, probably hundreds of miles away in the forest with her sweet little martyr that can give up luxuries but can't give a bloke a second chance.
Lies trickle from Marian’s lips as easily as rain falls from the sky and he's swept up in her charm. When in the castle, he sometimes believed he had an honest chance; they were so similar in their ability to manipulate situations and find any means to get their way. He respected that in her and tried not to be insulted when the respect wasn't returned. When her voice got authoritative and her grip like she were reigning in stallions, he saw why they could never be together. She lived by her convictions, literally for King and Country. There was no room left in her heart for anything other than fighting (except of course him).
Her eyes can portray a feline anger and soften at the sound of a crying babe. He knows too much about her secrets, so she looks at him as she's kissing someone else and his feet turn cold.
There is an exception - she never looks anywhere else when Robin's lips are at her neck; instead, her eyes close as she arches into him. It was only a matter of time until Allan left the forest. There was no chance of nobility in his bloodline, so the only way he could he'd get a lady to look at him like that was to have a full purse of coins.
Or so he thought.
He knows that it is envy that makes him hate Robin, but he grabs it all the same, allowing it to build into an idea bigger than reality, something to be feared. Allan had been away too long to remember that Robin sometimes failed, that he was only human. As usual, Allan prefers to blame anyone but himself, even when the idol he created disappoints him.
He discovers later that Robin and Marian have the annoying habit of talking to one another when apart. At first he thought it was only Robin who indulged in fantasies due to lack of proper sleep or his romantic ideals carrying him away. He would mumble conversations in the dark addressed to her until he finally succumbed to the night.
Now, as he watches Marian, utterly defeated and disgraced in a barn, he hears her whisper his name to the night and seems to convince herself that the wind rattling her chains is his answer.
It's exactly the type of ritual that they would have, a way to stay together even when apart and Allan wants nothing more than to fade back into the shadows before she looks up from the dirt and hay to implore him with her large, brown eyes. He knows he could resist any woman that he wanted - really, he could. He just choose that moment to run. It was purely a tactical decision.
His situation had changed. Skimming the finest cream off the top was fine with him; it was just a privilege that he had earned. But it troubled him if there was no plan to deliver the rest to the others eventually, and he'd never heard of any good coming from murdering the farmer. So it was to Djaq's and Will's faces that he ran, to John's stubbornness and even to Much's bottomless stomach.
If you asked him, he would never admit that he missed Robin's smile and presumptuous moral indignation or how relaxed they had all felt when Marian came to visit.
For three nights and days after they stopped the Sheriff's plot with a fake King Richard she stayed with them, wrapped in his arms as they tried to find a permanent camp. She seemed to have let all her misgivings and scruples melt away until eventually she realised that just because something didn't affect her in the forest, didn't mean that it didn't exist. The afternoon she returned home was her last; any future visits included mounds of charcoal and ash. That's what happens when you don't plan for the future while you live in the moment; like Allan, she learned that the hard way.
Their strength is toxic. He's watched her go wild in Nottingham after a couple days without news from him and then he had to watch Robin's pacing while the ship rocked Djaq and Will to sleep. It's hard to fight the urge to slit all their happy little throats in the night, and it's either a miracle or Much's watchful eye that keeps him behaved (he still isn't trusted to be alone).
He thought that it couldn't get any worse than the torture of waiting for the heat to kill him until she arrives and he finds that it's the strangest thing, seeing them here together. He's endured months worth of moping on the ship's journey and this is what hits him in the gut so hard it's hard to breathe. Only she could be all smiles at the thought of proclamations of love before a certain death.
Strangely, he loves her all the more for it.
When Carter came to rescue them, half of his body was elated at the thought of escape - he hadn't returned to the gang when the tide was turning just to die in the desert with a parched tongue. The other half looked at their embracing form, now free from knots and wished that Robin and Marian had been tied elsewhere, somewhere that the others couldn't find easily.
As soon as their hands were free, she was then, with all the gentleness of the sea breeze that ushered them into the Holy Lands and they were staring into each others eyes as their faces slowly drew nearer. Their lips joined with a sigh and Robin’s hands cupped her face while her fingers hungrily raked through his hair. Allan was no stranger to bawdy displays of affection, but this was unlike any kiss he had observed between a wench and drunken nobleman after a feast. It felt unnatural to keep looking at the way they clung to each other; it was one long kiss that Allan didn’t want to see end.
There are loud displays of bravado and he finds the whole matter tiring so as he fights for a King that can't be bothered to return home, he loses his energy. This is to be expected of a starving, dehydrated man. This is the final curtain call and he's going to be late getting on the stage. His heart isn't in the moves that block the blows, his mind distracted from the swords and fists at the thought of the future. They will be married, everyone will return to England in a happy little caravan with ale enough for all. Without an angle to play, or a lady to watch, England loses all of it's its appeal for him since he don't really plan on wasting his life, living with Much and watching their love stretch as long as their lives.
Before being knocked out, he questions why they deserve the happily ever after that has always eluded him. He wakes up later, still unable to appreciate that by the time he makes his way back to camp, he'll find all his friends alive and celebrating. Yet he still wants the best for her, wants her to be happy. It's a conundrum of the worst kind because it claws at his heart.
Allan-A-Dale doesn't know his own mind anymore.
Author's Notes: Title taken from Star's song "Death to Death". Thanks to ninamazing for the lovely beta of my constant abuse of tense changes, and thanks to mo_shmoe for saving me from song!fic.
Author's Notes 2: Since Allan hasn’t returned to the camp yet, maybe Marian is still alive in this fic - I leave that up to the reader because technically, this ficathon challenge was “the finale that never took place”, so feel free to interpret as you wish.