Prompt Party Prompt #160. Bandit!Regina injures Robin, then nurses him back to health
I've never written Bandit!OQ before, so this was fun to try and create. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what y'all think! :)
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They've been practicing for hours, Robin making her shoot arrow after arrow, telling her that, "A skilled bandit must know how to use a weapon."
He'd found her six months ago while he and Little John had been patrolling the woods near their camp, hiding in a small cave with an empty sack that once contained the food she'd stolen and a knife she'd managed to swipe from a drunk weeks before that. She was sick. She had been on the run from her abusive fiancé for weeks on end, over a month now, and finally starting to feel like she might get away when she'd hurt her leg, scraped it on a jutted rock as she made her escape from a theft.
She tried mending it, wishing against all hope in that moment that she had been one of the lucky ones to be born with magic, but to no avail. She cleaned it as best she could, wrapped it up with a piece of her torn tunic, but it just wasn't healing. She needed herbs, some medicinal something to help, but she'd grown up in a wealthy family, auctioned off to a rich, older man to be wed before she could learn such life skills as healing a wound. Mother had always made sure they had maids around to do that for her. Now, though, now she wished she'd taken her maid, Granny, up on the offer so many years ago and learned those skills behind her mother's back.
Robin and John had ducked into the cave, trying to get out of the rain that had just started pouring. They found her, sparing the last of their water canteens to quell her parched throat. It had taken a few hours for the rain to stop, and by time it did, the men had convinced Regina to let them help, to let them take her back to their camp and have their healer look at her wounds and get her fever down.
She'd been so thankful in the weeks that followed, being able to rest without fear of being found, being able to eat three hearty meals a day, and being able to have medicine for her injury.
That was half a year ago, and she's yet to leave. Robin was a famous thief throughout the land, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, a concept that appealed to her. She always hated her rich fiancé and the problems his money caused in her life. She'd be lying if she didn't hope Robin had stolen from him in the past. Robin's band of Merry Men have accepted her as one of their own, teaching her how to cook, and hunt, and heal wounds of all types, a skill she's found to enjoy quite a bit.
Getting injured so many months ago had turned out to be the best thing that could ever happen to her. She had a home now, and friends, and she wakes every morning praying that her fiancé doesn't come looking for her. He's royalty, not a king like he always wanted to be, but high enough up in power that he'd be able to ask their king for help if he wanted to find her that badly.
Each day that passes, however, she tells herself that after so many months, he must assume she's dead, or he never cared enough about her to even look. Either way suits her just fine.
She rolls her eyes at Robin's words but picks up another arrow anyway, notching it and aiming for her target. As she takes a deep breath, preparing to release the arrow, a rustling sound in a large bush off to her side startles her, making her whip around and narrow her eyes in suspicion. The twigs on the hard ground make a snapping noise and the leaves quake, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat as she stares at the foliage in fear wondering what, or who, it could be. As she does, her hand slips, letting the arrow release. It flies gracefully through the air, grazing it's new target.
"Oh, bloody fuck!" Robin yells, clenching his hand over his now bloodied arm.
Regina rushes over to him when she hears his cry of pain, throwing her bow down to the cold, hard ground in the process. She's profusely apologizing over and over again, pressing her own hand to his wound.
"You shot me!"
"I heard a sound," she explains lamely, pointing toward the bush. Robin's on the ground now, but turns his head to look behind him in the direction she's pointing. They see the leaves move and hear the noise again, putting her fears on full alert, thinking each time something like this happens that it might be someone coming to take her back to her miserable life.
She stands up, wiping his blood onto her pant leg, and slowly walks in the bush's direction, ignoring Robin's low Regina he lets out as a warning. He's always protecting her, trying to keep her from danger, which usually frustrates her; she wants to learn all there is to being a fearless bandit, not just how to heal wounds and hunt.
As she gets closer, an orange fox jumps out, scurrying away in a hurry when he spots the human invaders. She closes her eyes. Fuck. She was spooked by a fucking forest animal, and shot her friend in the process, all because her anxiety of being caught took over. It's been weeks since that happened, the last time being when she went into town with Robin and feared a large man in the tavern was one of her future husband's guards. Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd even been holding, she turns around to face Robin with a grimace on her face. "You shot me because of a damn fox."
He stands then, still holding his arm, and picks up her bow with the other hand, slinging it across his body to rest on his back.
"Let me help," she says devoutly, walking back to him and draping his uninjured arm over her shoulder. "I'll go grab Mary and she can help, too."
They make it back to the main part of camp, walking passed the large campfire that stays lit at all hours of the day, providing heat to their people in the cooler months. A few men stand, questioning what happened to their leader. She hangs her head, ashamed to admit that she'd made a careless mistake and he was having to pay for it.
"It's nothing, men," Robin assures, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. She knows he doesn't want to tell them exactly what happened, either from embarrassment of being shot by Regina or to protect her dignity, she isn't sure. Maybe a bit of both. "Just a mishap at shooting practice."
The men chuckle, returning to their sharpening of tools and drinking of ale. Mary, the camp's healer and John's wife, comes out from where they prepare their meals, spotting the two of them.
She comes over, asking what happened. She follows Regina and Robin into his tent as Regina explains what went on down by the lake where they practice. The woman, just a few years older than Regina, tries to stifle a laugh, causing Robin to scowl. "It's not funny."
She apologizes, telling Regina to get him settled and she'd be right back with some herbs.
Laying him down on his bed, he winces, letting out a hiss of pain. "I'm so sorry, Robin."
He grunts an it's fine as he adjusts his position on the bed, propping his back against the back of it. Their camp is more permanent than the ones she'd tried to make for herself that first month she'd been alone, so they've managed to acquire luxuries other bandits don't have, like makeshift beds created from straw stuffed inside large, cloth casings.
She knows he's trying to not show his pain, not make her feel bad, but it's not working. Robin is her friend, the first friend she ever made since escaping her hellish life, and she feels terrible. They're more than friends, deep down she knows that, knows he's wanted to explore this flirtation they've bantered with since she came to his camp, and she does as well, but…
"Here are those herbs, Regina," Mary says, interrupting her thoughts and stretching her hand out. She has a small bag filled with the mashed herbs and a basin of water. She tells them that she's busy with helping Tuck, the camp's latest victim to fall ill from this season's quickly changing temperatures, so she leaves them be.
Regina sighs as the tent flap closes behind her friend, letting her head fall back as she stares at the ceiling a moment. She hears Robin hiss again, pulling her from her own thoughts. She sits on the bed, placing herself next to his outstretched legs.
She reaches over, ripping the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his toned arm, sliced from her arrow and bleeding still. She scrunches her nose, moving her eyes to meet his blue ones. They're normally clear and so full of life, but now they're dark, clouded with pain.
Breathing in, she stands, moving to the small basin of water and dunking the cloth Mary provided into the cool contents. She wrings it out, saying, "I'm going to clean the blood off first before I put the healing herbs on it."
"Alright," he sighs, closing his eyes.
She fears he's angry with her; he's never been upset with her before so she's not sure how she'd handle that. Probably would get angry right back at him, defending herself that she thought they were being attacked and at least it only went through his arm and nothing more important, nothing more life threatening. She's always been stubborn like that, something her fiancé hated, often receiving the back of his hand to her cheek or worse for, but a quality Robin has never seemed to mind.
She huffs, bringing the cloth to his arm and letting it sit on the wound for a second before gently wiping the blood off from around the cut. Robin winces again, jerking his arm away from her quickly before she takes hold, grabbing it and pulling it back to rest atop her thigh. "Stop being such a baby."
His eyes widen with, what she hopes is, mirth. "Me? A baby? You shot my arm." She spies the faintest of grins growing on his face, so she breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
Smirking, she tells him, "At least it wasn't your leg. Or your stomach."
He chuckles then, bringing his uninjured arm up to wipe the sweat from his brow. Her brows furrow, though, knowing it's cold outside, and he shouldn't be sweating. "Hold this here," she tells him, pulling his hand away from his forehead and placing it on the cloth on his arm.
He obeys, clutching the rag beneath his hand as she stands, picking up another cloth and rinsing it through the water. She brings it over, laying it on his forehead. "You might have a fever," she explains to his questioning look. "This should help until I can get the medicine into your system."
He ahh's, switching places with her hands - her's grabbing the one on his arm, while he touches the one on his head. Regina removes the material on his bicep then, wiping around the outskirts of the cut one more time to make sure all the blood is gone. She grabs the bag of herbs, opening it and dumping the contents into a small bowl. She adds a bit of water, stirring it together with a wooden spoon to make a thick paste.
She uses another clean bit of cloth, dunking it into the mixture. "This is going to sting," she tells him softly, noting that he's on the verge of sleeping.
"Can't be as bad as being shot," he quips, opening his eyes to look at her with a playful smile on his lips.
She rolls her eyes, scoffing out a laugh and a shut up before placing the medicine on his wound. He grunts in pain, shifting his body on the bed. "Fuck," he grumbles, "you weren't kidding."
Regina smiles, pursing her lips to look at him, giving him her best I told you face she can muster. She dabs the medicine across the cut, making sure it's completely covered. Once finished, she wraps his arm up with a piece of fabric, telling him, "All done."
He smiles gently at her, causing her to give him one back. "Thank you," he mumbles, tugging on her hand and pulling her closer. Her face is near his neck now, and she sits back a touch to get a better look at him.
Her eyes scan his face, looking over the scruff he never seems to completely get rid of, those dimples that shine each time he smiles at her like he is now, the curve of his nose and up to those beautiful blue eyes. She smiles again, reaching up to remove the cloth from his forehead. Placing the back of her hand to his head, she feels for his temperature. It's still a little warm, despite the cool dampness placed upon it, so she puts its back, telling him it needs to stay a bit longer.
"Alright," he says, placing his hand atop hers, "You're the doctor."
She chuckles, bringing her hand down to cup his cheek. Her thumb grazes over his dimple, which deepens when he smiles at her contact. Robin brings his uninjured arm over to her, caressing her cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
He lets his hand drop, closing his eyes and murmuring about being tired. "You should rest, then," she says, rubbing a hand over his shoulder while her other still idles on his cheek.
"Will you stay with me?" he asks, more innocently than she thinks she's ever heard him before. Her breath hitches in her throat, and she takes a deep breath, making herself more comfortable next to his body. She's still sitting upright but leaning more now, closer to him than she's ever been.
She whispers an of course as she begins humming a soft tune, letting her fingertips trace over the lines of his face as she does.
Robin smiles, closing his eyes and letting out a hum of approval. "I love this song."
Smiling, she softly tells him that she knows, he's the one that taught it to her. "Mm," he murmurs, "That's right."
They stay there for a few moments, her voice lulling him to sleep as she continues running her hand along his jaw, down to his neck and shoulders before bringing it back up again to cup his cheek. She removes the cloth on his forehead, standing to place it back in the basin to let it resoak.
As she stands, she hears a, "Papa!" being squealed delightedly from outside. The tent flap opens, and she smiles at the young boy, Roland, with his messy brown hair and dark green cape swishing behind him.
Robin's son has always been a bright spot in her newly discovered world over the last six months. His large, brown eyes always so curious about the world, the way he asks question after question, trying to understand the things around him, and his cute, miniature dimples that stand out on his chubby cheeks each time he laughs; dimples he clearly inherited from his father. She loves this little boy. He and his father have been a flash of light in her dark world.
"Hi, Roland," she says quietly, scooping him up into her arms. His tiny arms wrap around her neck, giving her a welcoming squeeze.
"Hi, Gina!" he exclaims, pulling back to peck a kiss to her cheek before looking over to his father. His face falls, eyebrows crinkling in confusion as he looks back toward Regina. "What happened to Papa?"
Regina sighs, walking him over to the bed and explaining what happened. The boy giggles at the thought of a little fox worrying her so much, but quickly tampers it down by bringing a hand to his mouth. "Is he going to be okay?"
Her heart aches then, knowing the last time he saw a parent sick, she didn't make it out alive. Marian had contracted a nasty cough, they tell her, when Roland was a few years younger than he is now. She'd held on, trying to survive for her boys, but in the end, the angles had called her home.
Regina sits down next to Robin, pulling Roland into her lap. She kisses the top of his head, inhaling his sweaty boy scent and making a mental note to make him bathe later tonight, as she whispers, "Yes, sweetheart. He'll be fine."
Roland nods resolutely, reaching out to rub Robin's stomach. His eyes open then, making contact with Regina's first before scanning down to look at his son.
"Hey, there, my boy," he remarks, clearing his throat and sitting up a bit straighter. Regina sends a quiet warning to not move too much, but he waves her off, saying he's fine.
"Papa!" Roland squeals, taking his father's large hand in his little one and asking if he's alright. Robin assures the boy that he is, it's just a hurt arm, and nothing that their Regina can't fix.
Robin smiles up at her at that, bringing out a smile of her own to match. Roland leans his head back to get a better view of her, giggling and telling the adults how it's, "A good thing Gina learned to do mebicine."
"Medicine," they both correct simultaneously, causing them both to smirk in each other's direction. It hits her, like it does each time they have a moment with the three of them, how simple this life is. How simple this life could be if she would just let herself give in. Robin's tried to pursue her once or twice since she's been here, but she's been too scared. Too worried that the moment she lets herself feel something other than friendship, though if she's honest with herself she knows she already feels more than friendship for him, everyone knows it, that she'll get hurt. Her fiancé will find them, whisking her away and trapping her in a loveless, abusive marriage, or her mother will find her, banishing her from ever stepping foot in the forest again, something. Life has always found a way to kick her in the teeth, even in the short twenty-three years that she's been alive.
Roland spends the next few minutes, continuing to seek reassurance that his father is indeed fine, and telling them all about the adventure he went on with his Uncle Will today. They'd gone to town, purchasing a few loaves of bread before riding on a horse with his uncle and playing in a field they'd found along their way. That explains the slight stench coming from his hair and clothes, the reason she'd already decided he needed a bath tonight.
They smile and listen, Regina all the while keeping an eye on Robin. He's not sweating anymore, which is a good sign, hoping the medicine is acting quickly.
Mary comes in then, checking on Robin and taking Roland's hand, saying it's nearly dinner time, and he needs to wash up. "He needs a whole bath," Regina tells her, giving Roland a pointed look as he begins to tell the group, with a pout on his lips, that he does not, in fact, need a bath.
Robin snorts, turning his head to look at his son. "I can smell you from here, my boy," he jibes, huffing out a dramatic breath and waving his hand under his nose. "You're bathing before dinner time."
"Alright, Papa," he sulks, taking Mary's hand. The other woman eyes the pair on the bed, giving Regina a pointed look, eyebrows raised and quirked lips, as she tells them she'll bring dinner to them soon. She and Roland make their way out of the tent as Regina rolls her eyes at Mary's look. She knows that look, sees it from the woman or some of the men each time she and Robin are around each other. Everyone knows of their attraction, they'd have to be blind not to see it, and Regina is convinced that she's the last one who realized there was an allurement there.
Robin reaches out, pulling on her hand and summoning her to lay down with him. She raises her eyebrows and he smirks, saying, "Just for a minute, love."
Rolling her eyes playfully, she squeezes in on his uninjured side. The bed isn't quite large enough for them; she has to lay on her side, shoulder pressed right against his underarm, arm and leg draping across his. It's more intimate than she can ever recall them being before, but, well, it feels nice. Feels natural. Feels like she was always meant to cuddle into his side; their bodies fit together perfectly, anyway, so she sighs, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck.
She reaches up, feeling his forehead and telling him, "Your fever has gone down, so that's good."
He hums, reaching around her body to feel his own head and agreeing. She asks how his arm feels, stretching across his body to lift up the cloth, taking a peek at the injury. The medicine seems to be working; the gash already looks better than it did an hour ago.
"Well," he chuckles, chest vibrating against her torso, "I had a great healer taking care of me."
She'd become quite good with medicine, it's her favorite skill she's learned since coming to live with Robin and his Merry Men, so knowing she could put it to good use, more than just making a small cut feel better for the other men, makes her feel proud.
She smirks, dipping her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, scoffing out a laugh. "You bet your ass you did."
He laughs heartily, shaking his head and pulling her in tighter. She looks up into his eyes as he remarks, "Just wish you'd been a better shot."
Regina smacks his belly at the comment, saying he needed to be careful before she, "Let's that medicine run out and leave your fate up to the gods."
They laugh together, a sound she loves to hear. Her home growing up was never filled with laughter, never filled with fun. Her father passed away when she was just seven, and her mother never allowed anything but studies and tea time. Then, she'd been promised to a duke at twenty-two, far later in life than most girls, all her friends being married off by eighteen while her mother forced her to wait until the right type of man came asking, and the rest is history. The bruises may have faded, but the memories of all those times he would raise his hand to her are etched in her mind forever. The laughter and light-heartedness of this camp is one thing that made her decision to stay so much easier.
She resituates the cloth on his injury before laying back down, draping her arm across his stomach. "It's the least I could do after you nursed me back to health all those months ago."
Robin sighs, kissing the top of her head and placing his cheek upon it. He smiles, she can feel the curve of his lips on her hairline, as he says, "It was my pleasure."
They lay there a while, silence enveloping them in a comfortable cocoon. She can hear his breathing evening out, knowing he'll most likely be asleep before Mary can even bring them food to eat. His stomach rises and falls beneath her hand, and she can't help but to trail soothing patterns up and down the expanse.
Robin's arm that's been wrapped around her waist reaches up, running his hand up and down her bicep, lulling her into a peaceful state, ready to sleep the night away herself.
He calls her name softly, and she tilts her head up to see his face. She hmm's in question, sitting up a touch to get a better look at him. Robin smiles warmly, eyes hooded but clearer than they've been since the accident. He brings his arm from around her body, instantly making her miss the warmth he was providing on this cold night, the fur collar of her vest only doing so much to keep her heated. He cups her cheek, pulling her closer than she's ever been before and he juts his chin out. She licks her lips in anticipation and sees his eyes flicker down to them before meeting her brown eyes once more.
They breathe in tandem, bellies moving up and down on the same beat as they rub against each other's. He leans up, and she leans down, letting their lips meet in a gentle embrace for the first time.
It's nice, soft and comforting. His lips move against hers as his hand travels from her cheek to tangle in her hair at the base of her skull. Regina's hand that's been tucked in between their bodies rises, cupping his cheek and finding purchase there, while the other switches from resting on his belly to propping herself up on the other side of his torso. It's not the most comfortable of positions, her shoulder almost wedged up to her ear and him not being able to move one arm, but it works. It's sweet, and growing more passionate by the second, and exactly what she realizes she's been wanting him to do for months now.
She deepens the kiss a bit, pushing her body closer to his, breasts pressed against chest, wishing he could use both arms right now to wrap her up in his warm embrace. They stay there a beat, lips roaming and discovering each other's in this long overdue admission of their feelings. No words have to be spoken, she knows. Knows that this kiss means more to both of them than any kiss she's ever experienced before.
They pull apart, both catching their breath and he smiles, eyes wide and open now. She bites her bottom lip, bringing her hand up to trace along her top one. She stops for a second on the scar above her lip, the scar the man who said he'd love her forever gave her one night when she refused to give her body to him while he was drunk. Regina thinks of that life, of that man, and how different she had been a year ago. How different her life would've turned out if she hadn't found the courage to run away. She's so thankful now that, despite almost dying alone in a cave, she was able to escape. Thankful Robin found her and nursed her back to health, much like she's doing for him now. Not only did he heal her wounds, he saved her life, mended the pieces of a broken heart back together one friendly encounter at a time.
She lets her hand fall, landing on his chest above his heart. Feeling the thump, thump beneath her palm, she's reminded of how life can change in an instant. "Get some rest," she tells him, grinning and leaning in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "You'll need all the rest you can get to heal that arm."
He grins back, pressing one, two more pecks to her lips while she's still leaned in close enough. "As m'lady wishes," he vows, bringing his hand to halt over hers above his heart, wrapping his warm fingers around hers.
Regina breathes out a contented sigh, laying her head back down on his chest and draping her leg over his knee again. The chill in the air finally hitting her, she reaches down, grabbing his blanket and bringing it to cover their bodies. "I'll wake you when dinner comes."
"Sounds good," he mumbles, already halfway to sleeping again. He presses a kiss into her hair and sighs, letting his head rest there.
As she lays there, thinking over today's events, she giggles to herself, never so glad to have been startled by a wild animal before.