Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood, Robin, Kate, et al. I have earned nothing from this endeavor but the joy that comes from the writing and the possibility of a nice comment or two.

Authors Note: Written for InterComm 2011 at Live Journal.

Reflections

I was twelve when Robin went off to the Holy Land. It made no never-mind to me. I only knew him as Master Locksley then. Besides, I was girl and he was a man and far outside my sphere of notice. Life went on much as it always had even when Gisborne came along.

I was seventeen when Robin returned. Of course, the return of the rightful lord of the manor was an event to be noticed and celebrated. It was surprising then when he put his status as a noble on the line for Will and Luke Scarlett, Benedict Giddons and some worthless thief, who I realized later was Allan a Dale. After that, however, life became more frightening and difficult as he'd made an enemy of the sheriff and of Gisborne. The villages cheered his successes and were grateful for his provision, but some days they really wished he would go away. That by his doing so, things would return to some sort of normal, that tensions would ease, and life could be enjoyed again.

I was twenty when I joined Robin in the forest. I didn't have to really. But there was no other man in the shire who was as exciting and extraordinary as he was. I was drawn to him despite everything; especially the death of my brother and my mother's dire warnings and her dislike. I wanted to get to know him. I wanted to be near him.

I'd just turned twenty-one when I gave my heart and my virtue to Robin. I was completely smitten. For my birthday, Much had made a special supper in my honor. Roast fish. And we'd sat around the fire and laughed and sang. Everyone was in a good mood that lasted for several days.

On one of those days, I accompanied Robin on a delivery run to Bonchurch, the village that was farthest out. The day was warm and sunny, keeping our spirits high. We were on our way back to camp and, as I skipped along, I tripped over a branch. He caught me, but we were unbalanced and tumbled to the ground. He maneuvered our bodies as we fell so that he took the brunt of the impact. I landed softly atop him his hands cradled around my upper arms and shoulders.

The light buzz of insects and the soft birdsong created a cocoon of sweetness around us. The sun filtered through the trees, surrounding us in a hazy warm halo of light.

Our gazes locked, his blue eyes darkening a shade or two. My breath caught at the way he was looking at me. We just lay there a moment, until he came toward me slowly. His eyes closed just before he touched his mouth to mine. My eyes slammed shut at contact. My heart thundered in my chest and tingles raced through me, lingering in my womanly place.

His lips moved across mine, his tongue slid along the seam of my mouth. I'd been kissed before and knew what he wanted. I obliged and our tongues met and slipped and slid languidly along each other for several minutes.

I felt his manhood take shape against my thigh as we kissed. I knew it had probably been quite some time since he'd last been with a woman. Much, John and Allan had each filled me in about Marian. And while Much, once he got over me, and Allan, especially Allan, mentioned a female conquest every now and again, Robin never did. Nor was there ever really time he was unaccounted for that could be attributed to an intimate encounter of any kind.

I knew he didn't love me. I knew his heart still yearned for his beloved wife, but I could give him this. And perhaps, someday, he would love me too.

He was tender and gentle. He coaxed a raging flood of sensations from me along with a breathless strangled cry of surprise and release. With a groan and a grunt, he found his own relief a moment later as he filled me with his seed. He did not act surprised to find my maidenhead intact and he expressed no remorse at taking it. That irked me a bit though I felt no regret at having given it to him.

We continued our intimate relationship at sporadic intervals and I accepted that he did not love me. He acknowledged each interlude with a small gift, usually just a flower picked and left on my bunk. Once, after a particularly...intense session, which resulted in a few small bruises—that he never knew about—I received a hair ribbon. I refused to think that they were payment. Rather I always considered them a sort of thanks.

I was twenty-two when my son was born. Robin had died before I realized my predicament. I don't think anyone ever suspected the full nature of our relationship, and if they even considered he was the father, they never said.

I named my son Matthew after my brother and as I gaze upon his three-year-old countenance, I see the charm and the cheek that once belonged to his father.

~ Fin ~