Rating: T
Summary: a collection of vignettes regarding Maid Marian and a visitor who is not unfamiliar with her second storey window.
Disclaimer: I am using the BBC's version of the Robin Hood characters for fun, not for pleasure.
Author's Note: It feels good to be writing RH fanfic again. After the disaster that was season three, I haven't been drawn to it as I had once been. So sorry for my absence. But I am happy to be back.
Special thanks to my beta, Matriaya, who puts up with a lot from me.
Window Blues
She is nine, he, twelve the first time he comes to her window. He's showing off (for Much, of course). (And maybe for her, but neither will admit it.)
"Maid Marian!" he calls in to her window, making her pause at her hair combing. The long black hair hung around her in soft ringlets down her back. She has seen little of him since he had become a page for Lord Verysdale. Sometimes he shows up to teach her what he learns under the knight's supervision. She learns well, much to her father's chagrin. She still prefers the strength she finds in the bow she's used since childhood.
"Master Robin," she smiles at him, just as amused as his cleverness as he is. She knows Much is probably worried sick somewhere below them, but she can't bring herself to care. Her best friend is at the window.
"I have something for you."
Her eyes alight at the thought of a present, she hurries over and reaches out her little girl hand… and he sets a snake there! But it is only a garter snake; not one of the fearsome long, man eating ones that live in the east. It tickles her palm as it slithers, so she giggles. "I'll name him Geoff."
"Geoff?"
"It's a good name for a snake," she says defensively.
"What ever you say, Maid Marian."
She rolls her eyes at his pretend manners. She hands the snake back.
"I thought you liked Geoff?" he says.
"I do. But he deserves to be free."
O0O0O
She grows to be a respectable young woman, though she takes her cues from the Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, who never could keep her opinions from being heard. Her father the Sheriff can not keep her from the intrigues at his court, even if he were to try. Edward Fitzwalter was a knight who served Henry II well, and thus was granted Nottingham when he retired from the King's services. Marian is so in tune to what is going on in court, any court. Edward does not worry for her; she is clever, and clever enough to keep her mouth shut, or to manipulate men with weaker minds into doing what she suggests, all the while flattering them to make it seem as if it were their ideas all along.
He takes her on hunts; she is good company and better with a bow than every woman, and most of the men. He makes sure she knows how to handle a sword, a dagger, and he worries a bit about the hair pins in her jewel box that look just this side of too sharp. He would rather not think of how they came to be in her possession.
And he knows that Robin still visits her window when he can sneak away from Locksley or from Verysdale's manor.
But soon, to no one's surprise, the reputation of the skill of Robin's weaponry, even for a squire, spreads south to London. Robin is summoned to London to train as a knight for Prince Richard.
Edward keeps a close eye on his daughter. She has mentioned before a desire to leave Nottingham for a more exciting place. Luckily for Edward she does not leave with Locksley. She seems bored in his absence; practicing her bow and sword at all hours in all weathers. But everyone knows that she and Robin are yet too young for marriage. (Although all of Nottingham gossips at what a good match they would make, such similar backgrounds, similar ages, and adjoining lands.)
For his part, Edward knows they both need a lot of growing up to do.
O0O0O
He is back, and once again, well after nightfall, he is climbing to reach her window. She opens the shutters and they talk about everything that has happened while he was away. She tells him of the gossip and the politics and the two-headed calf that only lived a few days. He tells her of London, of the throbbing constant crowd of people, of his knighthood, of the soaring cathedrals, drafty castles and the reeking Thames. She tries to hide her jealousy. She is but sixteen, he is nineteen.
And there is something between them, and it is not just the bars.
Marian, while clever, has never been in love. Things of that nature had not truly been explained to her, and for all her savvy at court, she is still an innocent. But she knows there is something that she does not know, something that washer women and servant girls whisper and laugh about when they think no one is listening.
And whatever it is, whatever a man and a woman did... well... in private, she knows something, but certainly there is a new look in Robin's eyes that tells her that he has been initiated to whatever it is.
If Marian were to admit it to herself, she would not mind being initiated by Robin. (But of course, she would never admit it.)
"Are the ladies in London prettier than I am?" she asks, curious as to how they act and dress.
"Perhaps," says Robin, dismissively, "but they are not around as often as you are. They scarcely call attention to themselves. And no one can tease me the way you can."
Marian tries to control the faint pink blush, but it is fruitless. She does not feel jealousy towards these women, she does not know what there is to be jealous of, but she is pleased that no one quite measures up to her.
And then, after May Day, after her birthday, she is suddenly engaged to Robin of Locksley. And faster than she can realize it, she is suddenly being initiated in to... passion? Desire? Can a maid of sixteen really feel these things?
Robin has not yet behaved improperly, but when they go on innocent walks, they turn slightly illicit. She craves the taste of his lips, and rather enjoys how tight he holds her. She revels in the scruff on his chin. Even when he shaves, he usually misses a spot. Sometimes Marian wonders idly if he does it on purpose. As much as she revels in him, he revels in her. He whispers pretty words to her, combs his fingers through any hair that isn't pinned or tied down. He strokes her cheek in such a way as to make her swoon. It is so silly, but so serious at the same time.
The washer women and servant girls now give her knowing winks and smiles. Marian smiles back, happy from her lover's attentions.
He still comes to her window almost every night.
O0O0O
Marian is staring out the window, her eyes on the road that leads away from Knighton Hall. To all outward appearances, she looks as if she is waiting for someone. If she is, that someone will not be coming.
Marian curses herself for falling for Robin's words and promises. Robin of Locksley is gone, Much (loyal to the last) is gone with him. Off to fight the heathens in the Holy Lands.
Nothing Marian could say to him would convince him otherwise. Not even his father's recent death could pin him to his manor; Robin left Thornton, the steward, in his stead. Marian tried to reason with him, she tried screaming, she tried reminding him of his promise to marry her. He told her not to wait for him.
When he came to the window to say goodbye, she slammed the shutters closed. He tried to cajole her into opening them, but she would not. Instead she sat on her bed, curled up to keep herself warm from the coldness in her heart until he left.
This was four days ago. Robin has surely reached the sea by now. Marian has no map, she cannot judge where he is now, only that he is not in England. She has no one to entertain her, no one to laugh with, no one to love. She thought she would have all that tonight. They were supposed to marry today. But instead, she is alone.
So she promises that she will never love, never again will she fall for sweet words whispered in her ear. Robin may as well be dead, she may never know his fate. Only that he will likely not return. Eventually she gets up from her seat, combs her hair, washes her hands and face. She crawls under the covers and falls in to a lonely sleep.
She leaves the window open.