fic: in circles (the myth of eternal return)
One day this all will be but a story. It will begin with a “once upon a time”, and, should they be very lucky, end with “and so they lived happily ever after”. But tonight it still seems like there was never just one beginning but many, and all the possible endings are dreams they don’t quite dare to dream.
Robin listens to Much’s soft snoring, and wonders if his life moves in circles. He has been here before, has made this journey home once already. The first time around it felt like he was chasing a dream. With the ghosts at his heels and the bloodstains on his hands, he’d felt like he could never make it back. But somehow, they’d managed, and stepping on the English soil had been like coming back to life. Much had started laughing, tears streaming down his face, and after a moment, Robin had joined in. What made him stop was a realisation: Marian. She had been the ghost in all his dreams, the reason he’d kept fighting when the sun had blinded him and sand and bitter blood had mixed in his mouth, but the closer they had gotten to home, the less he’d thought of her. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten; it was simply that he knew he’d see her, and he wasn’t quite ready to give up his foolish hope that she might have waited, despite everything.
This time around, everything is different, but the journey is almost as bittersweet as it was the first time. There are the lost friends, those buried in the desert sand, and those who have found home here, and they will both be missed. There is the knowledge that it’s still not quite time for a happily ever after. Somehow Robin still feels like they have won. It must be the hope, he thinks, there is so much more hope now. (Though having always been something of a dreamer, he has never really stopped hoping.)
He feels restless, for he knows the journey is long, and he is curious to see the next part of the story. He decides it’s useless to pretend to be sleeping, and makes his way out without waking any of the three men, all fast asleep.
Marian turns to look at him the moment he steps out, and he’s quietly grateful for her being on the same side, for otherwise he’d have been caught countless times already. She doesn’t say anything; her arms are wrapped around herself to fend off the cold of the night, and he gives her a soft smile, the moment is too fragile to break with words. In her white gown, she looks like some otherworldly creature.
“So this is it,” she says slowly. Robin looks at her, questioningly.
“The Holy Land. You left and came here, back then.”
Marian looks sad, and this powerlessness tires him. He wants to undo what he did, all those years ago, the foolish boy dreaming of glory, but that’s impossible. As soon as those words had slipped from his mouth, “Marian, I am leaving.”, he’d known it was a mistake, that much was painfully clear, and yet he’d lied to her, to himself to make it all better. Now he wishes he could have swallowed his pride, but it’s all too late. (Of course.) He wishes for her forgiveness, but that’s not fair.
“I think I have forgiven you,” she says, still watching the still night of the desert, the stars and the endless sea of sand. His heart stills for a moment.
“What? I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s more than one thing I should be asking your forgiveness for.” Robin grins the way he always does, and she almost can’t see the worry lurking underneath.
Marian laughs softly, “Everything, I suppose.”
She finally looks at him. Her expression is uncharacteristically soft, and it’s painfully clear to him why he has loved her for all these years.
“I thought you’d died,” she says when he takes her hand and traces its outlines. “Again. And then we came here, and I-I thought it was sort of fitting. You see, after you returned, it seems like we are always going to different directions, whether willingly or against our wishes. And sometimes… It’s very silly, but sometimes I thought that you did really die in the war, all those years ago, and all this time I’ve been just dreaming.”
They watch each other, and it’s so weird. They have spent such a long time burying bad memories (good, too), saying things they don’t mean and swallowing what they have really wanted to say, endured their pain silently, that forcing these things into words feels utterly strange.
Marian bites her lip, hesitates. Maybe it would be better to leave certain things unspoken. But no. They are at the end of one road here, and before they can begin again, they need to get rid of these ghosts.
“I promised myself I’d never forgive you, back then. I had been such a fool, too blue-eyed and too much in love for my own good. It hurt, Robin. You leaving hurt more than anything, because I thought that was the one thing I could rely on, you being there. All that time everyone had been telling how we’d marry one day, and I never quite dared to believe, until we were betrothed, and… Then I was alone. I almost ran after you, that morning, but in the end I was too proud. I was never able to decide if that was a mistake or not. I tried to forget, but I kept having these dreams. Dreams where you died, and sometimes I was glad you did, it felt like justice. Other times I woke up with my heart pounding and prayed you’d just come back. But in the dreams you did, you were always a ghost and I could not recognise you. The boy I’d known no longer existed. Oddly enough, what made it easier was becoming the Nightwatchman. My nights were spent without sleep, riding, breathless, and by the time I got home, I was too tired to dream. And then you came back, and became Robin Hood the outlaw, without having heard of the Nightwatchman, you were doing the same thing. I hated you for that. I hated to think that we were so much alike, still.”
Marian breathes and feels light. There is nothing more to say about those five years. Her heart feels a little raw, but lighter than it has for years.
“I love you,” she adds, and somehow it’s the logical way to end this speech, “I’ve loved you since I was a child, but never more than now.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and it feels like they’ve been repeating that over and over again, but instead of losing their meaning, the words have become sharper.
She smiles again, “No need to be. All is forgiven, remember? Just one thing: let’s never come back here, okay?”
“I think I can manage that. To be honest, I’m still sort of surprised I survived this trip. The nightmare this place was the first time, I swore I’d never return. I can’t believe I did.” Again, he is glad she is there, for he can feel all those old ghosts hovering very near.
“I don’t think it’s surprising,” Marian says, and Robin frowns in confusion. “You are too much of a hero for that.” There is a lovely light in her eyes, traces of mischief.
“Does that mean you think I was brave?” She rolls her eyes at his hopeful look, and that feels good, feels like everything is like it’s supposed to be, if only for a while.
“Sort of,” she admits. “But more foolhardy than brave, really.”
“Come on!”
Marian raises her eyebrow in warning, but there is a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I’ve already forgiven you all of the foolish things you have ever done, so don’t push it.”
“What about all the foolish things I will do?” Robin asks, half-mischievous, half-sincere.
“We’ll see about them when the time comes,” she replies.
“But you will marry me, won’t you?” They look up at each other at the exact same moment. It feels like months have passed since they were tied to those poles and left for dead. This is the moment when they both realise that they lived. They lived, they are together, they will marry. Considering they were first betrothed when she was thirteen and he sixteen, it’s taken them quite a lot of time to get here. But somehow, against all odds, they did get here.
Marian fights the urge to kiss him senseless. She’s never given in easily, after all. So she inclines her head and says, “It certainly looks that way. However, you should not imagine that I will forgive you everything just like that simply because I am your wife.”
Robin grins. They have always been ones to play games, even if the stakes got far too high somewhere along the way. Now he sighs, “I knew it was too good to be true!” In response, she elbows him, hard. “Ow!”
Marian smiles, “Grow up, Robin.”
He’s delighted, and she rolls her eyes yet again. “I haven’t heard that one in a long time.”
“For your own good, I hope you won’t be hearing it any more.”
They stare at each other, she with her eyebrow raised, he with his usual grin. Then her lips curl into a smile.
“You are still a fool, Robin of Locksley. But for some reason, I quite love you.” Robin sees the little girl who annoyed him by climbing the old oak far quicker than he, even though she was a girl and younger than him. Robin sees the twelve-year-old who hid the apples they had stolen into her skirts and somehow managed to get away with it, while he got reprimanded. Robin sees the sixteen-year-old who told him he was a fool and sneaked away with him anyhow. And finally, Robin sees Marian, the woman she has become, and finally, there are no masks hiding her face, no lies veiling her words.
They grew up together, but after he came back from the Holy Land, they have been passing each other by, their roads crossing all too briefly. It’s been a long dance, not an easy one. But Robin thinks that his life may go in circles, and if that’s the case, it might be they’ll grow old together, just as they grew up together.
“I love you, Marian.”
The night of the desert is cold, and he kisses her hands to warm them as they go inside quietly, careful as to not wake the others.
There is still plenty to do in England, and the journey there is long and rather bittersweet. But somehow Marian feels like they have won. It must be the hope, she thinks as sleep makes her head grow dim, and she feels Robin’s heartbeat against her fingers, like an old love song. There is so much more hope.
One day this will be but a story. It begins with a “once upon a time”, begins with two children growing to love each other.
If they are lucky, the final line is going to be, “And so they lived happily ever after.”
But tonight the endings are merely dreams they don’t quite dare to dream.
--
fin.
Robin listens to Much’s soft snoring, and wonders if his life moves in circles. He has been here before, has made this journey home once already. The first time around it felt like he was chasing a dream. With the ghosts at his heels and the bloodstains on his hands, he’d felt like he could never make it back. But somehow, they’d managed, and stepping on the English soil had been like coming back to life. Much had started laughing, tears streaming down his face, and after a moment, Robin had joined in. What made him stop was a realisation: Marian. She had been the ghost in all his dreams, the reason he’d kept fighting when the sun had blinded him and sand and bitter blood had mixed in his mouth, but the closer they had gotten to home, the less he’d thought of her. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten; it was simply that he knew he’d see her, and he wasn’t quite ready to give up his foolish hope that she might have waited, despite everything.
This time around, everything is different, but the journey is almost as bittersweet as it was the first time. There are the lost friends, those buried in the desert sand, and those who have found home here, and they will both be missed. There is the knowledge that it’s still not quite time for a happily ever after. Somehow Robin still feels like they have won. It must be the hope, he thinks, there is so much more hope now. (Though having always been something of a dreamer, he has never really stopped hoping.)
He feels restless, for he knows the journey is long, and he is curious to see the next part of the story. He decides it’s useless to pretend to be sleeping, and makes his way out without waking any of the three men, all fast asleep.
Marian turns to look at him the moment he steps out, and he’s quietly grateful for her being on the same side, for otherwise he’d have been caught countless times already. She doesn’t say anything; her arms are wrapped around herself to fend off the cold of the night, and he gives her a soft smile, the moment is too fragile to break with words. In her white gown, she looks like some otherworldly creature.
“So this is it,” she says slowly. Robin looks at her, questioningly.
“The Holy Land. You left and came here, back then.”
Marian looks sad, and this powerlessness tires him. He wants to undo what he did, all those years ago, the foolish boy dreaming of glory, but that’s impossible. As soon as those words had slipped from his mouth, “Marian, I am leaving.”, he’d known it was a mistake, that much was painfully clear, and yet he’d lied to her, to himself to make it all better. Now he wishes he could have swallowed his pride, but it’s all too late. (Of course.) He wishes for her forgiveness, but that’s not fair.
“I think I have forgiven you,” she says, still watching the still night of the desert, the stars and the endless sea of sand. His heart stills for a moment.
“What? I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s more than one thing I should be asking your forgiveness for.” Robin grins the way he always does, and she almost can’t see the worry lurking underneath.
Marian laughs softly, “Everything, I suppose.”
She finally looks at him. Her expression is uncharacteristically soft, and it’s painfully clear to him why he has loved her for all these years.
“I thought you’d died,” she says when he takes her hand and traces its outlines. “Again. And then we came here, and I-I thought it was sort of fitting. You see, after you returned, it seems like we are always going to different directions, whether willingly or against our wishes. And sometimes… It’s very silly, but sometimes I thought that you did really die in the war, all those years ago, and all this time I’ve been just dreaming.”
They watch each other, and it’s so weird. They have spent such a long time burying bad memories (good, too), saying things they don’t mean and swallowing what they have really wanted to say, endured their pain silently, that forcing these things into words feels utterly strange.
Marian bites her lip, hesitates. Maybe it would be better to leave certain things unspoken. But no. They are at the end of one road here, and before they can begin again, they need to get rid of these ghosts.
“I promised myself I’d never forgive you, back then. I had been such a fool, too blue-eyed and too much in love for my own good. It hurt, Robin. You leaving hurt more than anything, because I thought that was the one thing I could rely on, you being there. All that time everyone had been telling how we’d marry one day, and I never quite dared to believe, until we were betrothed, and… Then I was alone. I almost ran after you, that morning, but in the end I was too proud. I was never able to decide if that was a mistake or not. I tried to forget, but I kept having these dreams. Dreams where you died, and sometimes I was glad you did, it felt like justice. Other times I woke up with my heart pounding and prayed you’d just come back. But in the dreams you did, you were always a ghost and I could not recognise you. The boy I’d known no longer existed. Oddly enough, what made it easier was becoming the Nightwatchman. My nights were spent without sleep, riding, breathless, and by the time I got home, I was too tired to dream. And then you came back, and became Robin Hood the outlaw, without having heard of the Nightwatchman, you were doing the same thing. I hated you for that. I hated to think that we were so much alike, still.”
Marian breathes and feels light. There is nothing more to say about those five years. Her heart feels a little raw, but lighter than it has for years.
“I love you,” she adds, and somehow it’s the logical way to end this speech, “I’ve loved you since I was a child, but never more than now.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and it feels like they’ve been repeating that over and over again, but instead of losing their meaning, the words have become sharper.
She smiles again, “No need to be. All is forgiven, remember? Just one thing: let’s never come back here, okay?”
“I think I can manage that. To be honest, I’m still sort of surprised I survived this trip. The nightmare this place was the first time, I swore I’d never return. I can’t believe I did.” Again, he is glad she is there, for he can feel all those old ghosts hovering very near.
“I don’t think it’s surprising,” Marian says, and Robin frowns in confusion. “You are too much of a hero for that.” There is a lovely light in her eyes, traces of mischief.
“Does that mean you think I was brave?” She rolls her eyes at his hopeful look, and that feels good, feels like everything is like it’s supposed to be, if only for a while.
“Sort of,” she admits. “But more foolhardy than brave, really.”
“Come on!”
Marian raises her eyebrow in warning, but there is a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I’ve already forgiven you all of the foolish things you have ever done, so don’t push it.”
“What about all the foolish things I will do?” Robin asks, half-mischievous, half-sincere.
“We’ll see about them when the time comes,” she replies.
“But you will marry me, won’t you?” They look up at each other at the exact same moment. It feels like months have passed since they were tied to those poles and left for dead. This is the moment when they both realise that they lived. They lived, they are together, they will marry. Considering they were first betrothed when she was thirteen and he sixteen, it’s taken them quite a lot of time to get here. But somehow, against all odds, they did get here.
Marian fights the urge to kiss him senseless. She’s never given in easily, after all. So she inclines her head and says, “It certainly looks that way. However, you should not imagine that I will forgive you everything just like that simply because I am your wife.”
Robin grins. They have always been ones to play games, even if the stakes got far too high somewhere along the way. Now he sighs, “I knew it was too good to be true!” In response, she elbows him, hard. “Ow!”
Marian smiles, “Grow up, Robin.”
He’s delighted, and she rolls her eyes yet again. “I haven’t heard that one in a long time.”
“For your own good, I hope you won’t be hearing it any more.”
They stare at each other, she with her eyebrow raised, he with his usual grin. Then her lips curl into a smile.
“You are still a fool, Robin of Locksley. But for some reason, I quite love you.” Robin sees the little girl who annoyed him by climbing the old oak far quicker than he, even though she was a girl and younger than him. Robin sees the twelve-year-old who hid the apples they had stolen into her skirts and somehow managed to get away with it, while he got reprimanded. Robin sees the sixteen-year-old who told him he was a fool and sneaked away with him anyhow. And finally, Robin sees Marian, the woman she has become, and finally, there are no masks hiding her face, no lies veiling her words.
They grew up together, but after he came back from the Holy Land, they have been passing each other by, their roads crossing all too briefly. It’s been a long dance, not an easy one. But Robin thinks that his life may go in circles, and if that’s the case, it might be they’ll grow old together, just as they grew up together.
“I love you, Marian.”
The night of the desert is cold, and he kisses her hands to warm them as they go inside quietly, careful as to not wake the others.
There is still plenty to do in England, and the journey there is long and rather bittersweet. But somehow Marian feels like they have won. It must be the hope, she thinks as sleep makes her head grow dim, and she feels Robin’s heartbeat against her fingers, like an old love song. There is so much more hope.
One day this will be but a story. It begins with a “once upon a time”, begins with two children growing to love each other.
If they are lucky, the final line is going to be, “And so they lived happily ever after.”
But tonight the endings are merely dreams they don’t quite dare to dream.
--
fin.