FIC: A Life Less Ordinary (Chapter 8)
Title: A Life Less Ordinary
Fandom: Robin Hood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Outlaws, Marian, Carter, Guy, Sheriff. Canon pairings.
Setting: Post-season 2
Spoilers: 2.13
Summary: They’d saved the King, but had they saved England? An alternate season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the Danny Boyle film, the rest belongs to the BBC
A/N: I have taken some liberties with history, here, but no more than the show does, so...
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7
Chapter 8: Regicide
Bavaria, Germany
The feast their first night at Count Frederick’s castle was excellent, and Marian felt in light spirits as they discussed their plans.
“I have invited the Baron and his retinue for an evening of gambling tomorrow night,” Frederick, seated at Marian’s side, was telling them. “The castle will have less guards - he takes great care with his personal safety and always have his security detail with him.”
“There will still be guards there, though,” Djaq interjected from Frederick’s other side, where she and Will were seated. “It may be very difficult to get past them.”
“I know,” Marian agreed. “That’s why our best chance is for you and I to sneak in as servants - you said he is brought his food by the kitchenmaids?”
Djaq nodded. “I have located two we are able to bribe and exchange places with for the night.”
“But it is not the getting in I am worried about,” Marian told them.
Will nodded. “It is getting the King out,” he agreed. “Even with the reduced security, he is watched all day, every day. We could never remove him from the cell without them noticing.”
“If we can just get in to see him,” Marian told him, “let him know of our plans. Then we can think of how to get him out.” She turned to Carter and Tuck for reassurance. They both seemed happy enough with the plan, although they seemed even more pleased with the food before them. Marian could imagine they were relieved to be eating anything other than the soldier’s rations they had been surviving on for the past few years.
“I still think it is risky,” Will pressed. “We don’t know if he is going to be moved - or when.”
“My discreet enquiries tell me that the Baron is in league with Duke Leopold,” Frederick told them. “It is likely that they will take your King to Austria.”
Marian sighed. “I know that if Robin was planning this we’d be charging in swords drawn, to liberate the King on the first attempt or die trying,” Marian conceded. “But I think it is better to be cautious, to know what we’re up against.”
“I agree,” Tuck interceded evenly. “We need intelligence.”
Djaq and Carter nodded, clearly in agreeance. After a few moment’s thought, Will also gave an nod of acquiescence.
“Well, now that our reconnoitre is over, let us have some music.” The Count gestured for a nearby musician, who walked towards the centre of the room, bowed, and began to play a cheerful tune on his lute.
Frederick took advantage of the additional noise to lean in close to Marian, his voice soft so that the others would not hear him. “Now, Marian, my dear,” he said seriously, “I am worried for you.”
“I will be fine, Frederick,” she reassured him, patting his arm and smiling. “I’m sure you remember I am used to such dangers.”
“I do not mean your plan,” he told her. “I mean your marriage - forgive me,” he added quickly, “but you did not seem pleased when Carter referred to you by your title.”
Marian bit her lip. She disliked such personal questions. “I...I am not used to it,” she answered softly. “It was in the Holy Land and I...I thought we were going to die.”
Frederick caught her eye, clearly surprised. “You regret your marriage?”
“No,” she answered quickly. “No. I just...” she trailed off, and looked down at the table, unsure of what to say. She resented Frederick, slightly, for intruding on her thoughts in this way.
“You are unsure of whether you would have married him, had you not been on the verge of death,” Frederick finished for her.
“I don’t know,” Marian replied softly, her eyes still downcast. “I do love him - I realised just how much then and that has not changed. I just...I don’t know how things will be when I see him again.”
“You miss him,” Frederick observed.
Marian sighed, and met his gaze again. “Yes.”
“Then do not think of yourself as a wife,” he advised her. “You will be lovers reunited - that is all that matters.” He patted her hand again, reassuringly.
She smiled ruefully. “The last time I lived in the forest,” she paused, her lip twitching at the memory. “It did not go as smoothly as it could have.” All too well she remembered their bitter disagreements, which, while they always reconciled, were never truly resolved.
Frederick chuckled. “”My dear, love is never smooth. But that is what makes it exciting, eh?”
Marian smiled, despite herself. She could not deny that that had always been the thrill of her and Robin’s relationship, the push-pull of their arguments, the verbal sparring and passion simmering just beneath their harsh words.
“He cares about you deeply, Marian, that much was obvious,” Frederick continued, his tone serious again. “I am sure you will work out any differences you have.”
Marian felt her smile become somewhat forced, but looked at Frederick in a way which she hoped looked thankful, and did not betray her doubts. “I hope so.”
********************************************************************
Warwickshire, England
Eve had never been so content. Her small cottage, although sparsely furnished, was delightfully warm from the bolding flickering fire, and she sat comfortably on her bed, her legs folded beneath her. Her main source of happiness, however, was the man sprawled on the bed beside her, his head resting on the folds of her skirt in her lap, gazing up her with adoration.
Much had been visiting her since soon after his return from the Holy Land - at least as often as he could get away from Nottinghamshire and make the journey. It was at least a day’s ride to the village she had settled in, far enough from the Sheriff’s reach, but too taxing a journey for him to make regularly.
He had simply appeared at her door one day, soaked through from the rain outside, looking like a lost soul. He had told her of their journey to the Holy Land, the attempt on the King’s life, the death of Lady Marian, and she had held him while he poured out his soul to her, relieved, for once, it seemed, to share the burden.
She’d never asked how he’d found her, she’d just been relieved that he had. Her life was quiet and simple, but his visits made her forget any dull moments. It was only when he came to her that she allowed herself to dream, to imagine that her small cottage was theirs, that he was her husband dozing so contentedly in her lap, and she could hear the laugh of honey-haired children outside.
“I should be getting back soon,” Much spoke into the silence of the room, regret lacing his voice. “Allan is starting to get suspicious as to why I am absent so often.”
Eve felt her daydream fade, replaced with disappointment. It always ended, sooner or later, and Much returned to Sherwood. “Why have you not just told him?” she asked.
“Because Allan has a big mouth” Much informed her. “He would never let me hear the end of it, and then Robin would know.”
“And you think he would disapprove?” Eve frowned. That was one aspect she still did not understand.
“No, I’m sure he would, but I do not think that he could bear it.”
“Because of Lady Marian.” Eve found herself annoyed with the woman, who, even in death, seemed to come between them. She had not particularly liked Lady Marian when they had met - had in fact resented her for the conversation she’d overheard with Much in Bonchurch. Lady Marian had all but called her a liar and a whore, accused her of playing with Much’s affections to gain information for the Sheriff. And of course, it had started out that way, but what right had Lady Marian had to judge her when Eve had come to learn that she was no better? She played the innocent maid for Guy of Gisbourne and yet passed information to Robin Hood.
But Eve said none of this. Instead, she let her frustration fall on Much’s master. “So he cannot let anyone else be happy?” she questioned. Truly, she thought, Robin Hood was a selfish man.
“Yes...and no.” Much tilted his head, as if considering. “He would feign joy for me, but...he is still depressed, Eve. I think it comforts him to know that we are all in the same position, missing those we love. Were I no longer his equal in that he would withdraw.” He shook his head and cast his eyes downward, a sadness crossing his visage. “That is what he does. I saw it in the Holy Land - the first time. He hates himself, and so he tries not to be so human. He becomes a soldier, a warrior, and nothing more.”
Eve gently pushed the hair back from his brow, her fingers lightly caressing the golden strands that glinted in the firelight. She knew that he had seen horrible things in the Holy Land - things he could not tell her about. But, as ever, she was willing to listen whenever he did open up, silently reassuring him that she would not think less of him to speak of it, or allow the tears to fall upon his face.
Much blinked hard, as if to wipe the memories away. “And it would not be good for him - or us - should be become like that again.”
Eve did not speak further, content to stroke his hair and gaze into the fire. She knew Much also enjoyed the quietness they could share - she knew that all too often he felt as if he had to be the one to fill the silence, which, she supposed, was where is reputation for speaking nonsense came from. She had assured him that he did not have to keep up appearances with her, that his mere presence was enough.
It was a long time before she spoke again, remembering what she’d been wondering at ever since he had returned to her. “Can I ask you something, Much?”
“Of course.” He looked up at her again, and she felt warm under his loving gaze.
“It is something I have wanted to ask for a long time,” she began.
He looked up at her quizzically, but urged her to continue.
Eve steeled herself, waiting a few moments to brush a speck of dirt of his tunic before continuing. “You once said that when there was justice again, you would come and find me,” she told him, her heart warming at the remembrance. “And yet you have found me but there seems to be less justice now than there was then. What made you change your mind?”
Sighing, Much shifted off of her lap, and stood, wandering aimlessly around her small cottage for several long minutes before turning back to her. “I suppose I was scared that I would be waiting forever,” he told her. “There seems so little hope, now. The King is aware of the atrocities here in England - about the treachery of his own brother, and yet he does not return.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Gisbourne was at least right in that, as much as I hate to admit it - the King cares more about his wars in the Holy Land than he does about his own people.” Much leaned against the mantelpiece with both hands, hiding his face from her. “And....well, Robin and Marian were waiting until there was justice before they would allow themselves to marry. But now she is gone and there will never be justice for Robin - not really.”
She rose and moved towards him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him an impish smile to try and lighten the mood. “But you have not asked me to marry you.”
“I would,” he turned his head towards her, his tone earnest. “If I thought you would accept.”
“I would,” she replied, her smile fading somewhat. “If I thought that you would stay with me.”
That was the impasse. Much would not desert his fellow Outlaws, he was much too loyal for that. And it seemed they needed him now more than ever - especially Robin, who would crumble without his loyal friend. One day, Eve told herself, if and when this was all over, she would tell Robin Hood exactly what she thought of him. And it would not be kind.
“Come back with me,” he asked her suddenly, turning towards her fully and taking both of her hands in his own. “Come live in the forest.”
She looked at him with a sort of pity. “Not five minutes ago you told me that the mere knowledge of me would drive Robin into even deeper pits of despair,” she told him practically. “Now you want me to go with you and flaunt our happiness in his face?”
Much sighed. “You’re right,” he said sadly, dropping her hands and moving to sit back on the bed, head in his hands. “I would never do that to him.”
She sat beside him, resting gentle hands on his arm. “He does not deserve you.”
“I know.” He nodded. Eve knew that it was not an understanding he had come to lightly - after all, years of upbringing had told him that such a thing was not possible. But Eve also understood that Robin knew that now, too, and she wondered how he dealt with that. .
Much spoke again, thoughtfully; “But sometimes we want to give those we love more than they deserve.”
His innate goodness never failed to kindle her heart. Truly, she had never met a person so giving of himself, so willing to sacrifice his own happiness for others. He would lay down his life for any of his friends, for her, in an instant and die happy that he had been of service.
“That is why I will wait for you, my Much,” she replied sweetly, shifting onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close. “However long it takes.”
His fingers stroked her jaw tenderly. “I love you, Eve,” he whispered, and kissed her gently. “And one day we will be together for good. But now...” his seriousness gave way a charming smile. “I thought perhaps...a bath?”
“Of course, my Lord.” She cooed playfully, and kissed his nose. “I trust you will not object if I join you this time?”
He stood, sweeping her into his arms as she laughed in delight.
“Not at all,” he told her.
*********************************************************
Bavaria, Germany
Marian walked down the long, dark hallway, careful not to let any of the fear she felt betray her. She was reassured by Djaq’s firm, reassuring presence beside her. They both wore the plain clothes of the castle kitchenmaids, caps covering their hair and pulled low to hide their faces in the shadows. She hoped that the guards they passed would take no notice of them and not realise that they were not the usual staff. But luckily, they seemed unconcerned by their presence and, finally, they reached the final cell of the dungeon where they knew Richard was being held.
The guard who stood watch over Richard’s cell regarded them only briefly, glancing at the tray in Marian’s hands and the pitcher of water in Djaq’s. He unlocked the door behind him and nodded them in. The two women went inside, the heavy door closing firmly behind them, and Marian heard the unmistakable click of the key in the lock. Based on Will and Djaq’s reconnaissance, she knew they would only be afforded a few minutes alone with the King, to ensure that he ate and drank.
Marian peered into the darkness, her eyes adjusting as she noticed a huddled, stirring form in the corner of the cell. She hurried towards it, falling to her knees beside him and placing the tray to one side. Placing a tentative hand on the pile of dirty blankets, she asked; “Sire?” Her voice sounded painfully thin, even to her own ears.
Richard turned towards her, and Marian stifled a gasp. His face was hollowed, his skin sallow, and his once broad shoulders sagged in defeat. Marian was only glad Robin could not see his king so degraded. In this dungeon, Richard was no longer the Lionheart, but merely another prisoner covered in filth.
“My Lord?” Marian prodded again when Richard said nothing. “It is I, Lady Marian.”
Recognition seemed to dawn on Richard, and his face cracked into a smile. “Marian, my dear,” he rasped, clearly not having spoken in quite some time. “Have you come to rescue me?” He chuckled softly to himself, but it soon gave way to hacking coughs.
Marian looked helplessly at Djaq, who came to their side instantly, placing bracing hands on Richard’s back and sternum.
When his coughing subsided, Marian continued, acutely aware they could not linger. “We are working on it, Sire,” she told him. “We will get you out of here.”
Richard lifted himself into a seated position, Djaq assisting him to lean against the stone wall. “Marian speaks the truth, King Richard,” she said.
He laughed again, and Marian thought perhaps his capture, however brief, had already begun to addle his mind. “The wife of Robin Hood and a Saracen woman have come to rescue their King,” he chuckled to himself.
Djaq visibly bristled at both implications, and retreated to the door, clearly conscious of the guard outside. “We must hurry, Marian,” she urged.
“My Lord you are well guarded,” Marian said quickly, “but we have come to tell you not give up hope, for we will rescue you. We will find a way, and if they move you, we will follow. I promise you I will not give up until you are free and we can take you back to England.”
“Or die trying.” Richard looked back at her, and blinked. For the first time, he seemed to really see her beside him in the dark. “My dear,” he said softly, his voice still carrying a slight rasp, “your loyalty is commendable. I have seen that same determination in your husband’s face many times. Truly, you are well matched.” He reached out and took her hand, looking into her eyes earnestly. “You must return to him.”
“No,” Marian shook her head. “No, I must bring you back to England, so you can set everything right again.”
“There is no way out of here,” he told her. “You must leave me to my fate.”
“But you are sick, my Lord,” she insisted. “And surely you realise that the Sheriff of Nottingham is behind this? And behind him, your brother, Prince John? You cannot leave England in their hands.”
“Yes, I know.” Richard said softly, and suddenly seemed very old. “But you must leave me all the same.” He patted her hand fondly. “Believe me, my dear, I am leaving England in the best possible hands. And your husband needs you.”
“No,” she repeated. “No.” She could not, in all conscience, leave Richard without at least trying to save him. How could they possibly fight against Prince John with no hope that Richard would return to depose him?
“Robin was my most trusted and best warrior,” Richard ignored her protests. “But he buried his heart in the Holy Land, when he thought you lost to him.”
Marian bowed her head, not wishing to meet Richard’s piercing gaze. She felt discomforted every time someone spoke of Robin’s grief for her.
“You saved my life, once, Marian, my child,” he continued. “I must return the favour, and save yours by sending you back to him.”
“But - ”
“Marian,” Djaq hissed urgently. They had stayed too long already.
“Leave,” Richard commanded. “That is an order from your King.”
Marian had never been blindly loyal, as Robin had, in fact she had criticised the King’s actions and decisions more than once. But even she could not refuse a direct order from her sovereign. She nodded once, firmly, and rose to her feet.
“I leave the safekeeping of England to you,” he said finally, sinking back into the shadows. “Please keep her safe.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Marian!” Djaq tugged at her arm urgently. “We must leave.”
Nodding, Marian harshly brushed away the tears that had half-formed with the back of her hand. She leaned down, emptied the tray she had carried in of food to take back out with her. And she left the cell with Djaq, her heart heavy with failure, and yet, with the anticipation that finally, she could go home.