Title: Home
Rating: T
Summary: Pre-Series. They've only just gotten engaged, and Marian decides to try something she's never tried before. Fluffy fluff.
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood.
Author's Note: Not beta'd, but feel free to point out any mistakes. Gosh, these two are so cute. It's set after "The Fruits of May" which I wrote ages ago, but it's not necessary to read that first. Reviews are always welcome! As welcome as arrows to an outlaw.
o0O0o
They were engaged now. Promised. Betrothed. Contracted. Bound. Committed. Obliged. Affianced. To be married. Naturally. Marian waited at the window, to see if he would come, as he often did. Though he had not come as often since he had returned from France, from training with the new King Richard. Perhaps the French had finally pounded some decorum into him, or at least taught him to be more subtle about visiting a lady's window in the dead of night. He still liked her; the kiss earlier today (and the words with her father, with her, with his father… you would think they were going to sign a peace treaty) had only confirmed that. For all that their families had always been friends it seemed such a complicated thing to hammer out marriage negotiations. But they were both the only children of both Locksley and Knighton, so did not take long as some negotiations she had heard of.
Marian had a friend in the castle, Ellyn, who had been married off to a noble in Weymouth. (She had promised to write, but never did.) Her marriage negotiations had taken absolute weeks, so if Marian found herself engaged, formally, at the end of an afternoon, she supposed she should consider it a speedy end to agreements. It was one of the more interesting birthdays she had ever had.
Still, she hoped Robin might visit her at her window, decorum be damned. She had some things she wanted to talk to him about, things not covered in today's discussions.
The moon was high before she realized he would not come.
But really, what was to stop her from going to him? Surely Knighton Hall was sleeping under the May moon. And just as surely, Locksley would be slumbering.
Decision made, she would go. Marian pulled off her nightgown and threw on a loose tunic and some trousers she had recently decided to start wearing when riding. She also pulled on a light cloak and tied the strings tightly. It was a dark green cloak that she loved wearing.
She slipped through the bars and studied the roof, and planned out exactly how she was going to get down. But if Robin could do it, so could she. She was smaller, and lighter, it should be easier for her.
But, she reminded herself as she landed on her bum, Robin had more practice. She closed her eyes against the brief pain in her backside, and when it abated, she got up and slipped to the stables, silent as a shadow. Kay was in his stall, named for King Arthur's champion and almost – brother. He was tall and dark, and most importantly, silent as she saddled him and led him out of the stable. Marian did not launch herself onto his back until they reached the tree-line, but when she put her heels to him, he took off into the woods towards Locksley.
It did not take long to reach Locksley. Her father's holdings were smaller than the Huntingdon Family's. But really, her father's power was greater, for he had been the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire since before her birth. When Locksley was within sight, she reigned in Kay and forced him to walk the rest of the distance. Marian rode Kay right up to Robin's windows, then stood in her stirrups, stretching for the thatching that was within reach. Slowly, she eased her feet out of her stirrups and onto the saddle, making her at least two feet taller. Kay did not seem to protest. But surely it was harder to climb to his window than it was to climb to hers. Yet there must be a way. Marian remained in her vantage point, surveying the situation, her hand gripping the thatching for balance, when she spied a thick rope, the same color of the roof.
The fool, she thought. Even as she reached for it herself. She was just tall enough to grab it. The rope unfurled, and went all the way to the ground. So, that is how he sneaks out so easily. Marian shimmied up the heavy hemp rope and reached his window. The straw thatch was very slippery underneath her trousers and worn boots.
But she could see him.
He was sleeping. Not combing his hair and waiting for her, she thought with a smirk.
"Robin," she whispered.
He did not do anything.
"Robin," she tried again.
This time he snorted and rolled over. Marian smirked again. She could hear Kay below her, snorting and searching for something to eat or drink. She did not worry. He would not go far.
"Robin!" she hissed, more urgently.
"Whoozzat?" he said, waking (finally).
"It is I, your lady-love," she teased from the window.
He turned to face her, his eyes wide in the moonlight. His arms flailed for a moment, searching for blankets. Satisfied that they were where they were supposed to, he relaxed back into his pillow, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"What are you doing there?"
"I thought I would pay you a visit. Are you not happy to see me?"
"Marian, I am happy to see you, of course."
"Good. We have affairs to discuss. Come, sloth, out of bed and to the window. We have our best conversations this way."
"I can hardly get out of bed with you just there."
"Why not, pray tell?"
"Marian…" he flushed.
And then she realized… he slept naked. The thought embarrassed her, and yet, made her curious.
"I will turn my back," she promised, turning around to face the yard.
She heard him rustling around, first skin against bedding, then his skin against his trousers and a tunic.
"Now I shall greet you properly," he said quietly, and very close to her ear.
She grinned and turned to meet his lips with hers….
…and slipped on the thatching. She grasped at it desperately, but it would not hold her weight, she reached for the rope, or the sill, or anything, and Robin tried to reach out to stop her from sliding down the roof, but it was no good. His grip was not strong enough to hold her fast and she let out a yelp as she slid and fell, landing for the second time on her backside. It had hurt before, but now, two falls in one night, it hurt even worse. A moment later, and Robin was down the rope to inspect his bride-to-be.
"Are you alright?" his eyes were wider than before, out of concern.
"I am unhurt."
"Really?"
She rolled to her left hip and slid a hand to make sure nothing horrible had happened, testing the pain.
"Nearly," she assured him. "Just sore. I suspect that I shall still be bruised when we take our vows."
Robin did not know what to say to that, so he sat next to her, wrapping an arm awkwardly around her shoulders. They watched Kay stamp around on the soft, mostly muddy ground in the yard. It had rained for most of the afternoon and into the evening. Marian supposed she should be grateful for that, as it cushioned her falls. But it was hard to do so; she could feel the wet soaking through her trousers.
For his part, Robin could not quite believe his luck. He hoped she was not always this clumsy. Though the perfect "O" her lips had formed when she realized she would fall would be something that he would remember forever. But she had come to visit him. In the middle of the night.
He chuckled.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing, only," he chuckled again, "this will make a good story to tell our children someday."
"Surely not!" she protested.
"No, surely not. I am jesting." Silence fell again, before he asked, "What did you wish to speak to me about?"
"Oh, I… well, that, I suppose. Children, and marriage, and things. I have never been married before," she said, almost as a confession.
Robin was slightly taken aback, "Nor have I."
"And I have never partaken in any acts that, well, marriage includes."
She blushed. Robin thought it was cute. A blushing bride. After the English and French courts, it seemed she was the last virgin bride in England. She was so honest, though. They played their silly little games, but they had never told falsehoods. She had never been coy. She did not know the latest fashions, and she did not paint her face. She had grown up in the Nottingham Court, where everyone was friends with her family, and on her manor, a little working farm with hardly a lady's maid or governess to explain things. Now they were sitting here, in the mud, watching her horse search for grass to eat.
"And you have, I think," she stuttered.
They both blushed, now.
"Yes," he replied slowly. This would not be an easy conversation, and lying would make it worse.
"Why me? Why did you ask me to be your wife? The Royal Court must offer more variety."
"I was not looking for an exotic bride. I was rather hoping…" he stumbled to a stop.
"For what?" She looked him straight in the eye, as if plundering them for an answer.
He shrugged. He was good at bedding women, at least in France he was. But there, romance was a game to play. Here, well, it was home. He was responsible for many things here, or at least, he would be in time, but it was never a game. Real people looked up to him.
"I was hoping for a partner, to help me, and whom I could help."
It had come out awkwardly, it was true. But she seemed pleased with his answer, because she smiled and turned her face to the stars.
"It helps that you are pretty, and will probably get more beautiful," he said easily.
She pushed him over. Seeing him splash slightly in the mud caused her to laugh quietly.
"You little brat! I take it back! I shall not marry you."
"Liar. You need me to balance your ledgers."
"What do you know of balancing ledgers?"
"Quite a lot. Father instructed me with Nottingham's ledgers."
"That sounds complicated," Robin said, somewhat admiringly.
"It was," she answered primly, wiping her hands on a cleaner bit of his tunic.
"Hey, now, stop that!"
"Stop what?" she asked, in an angelic voice.
"Brat," he teased.
"Fool."
"Why am I a fool?"
"It suits you," she said with a shrug.
"Perhaps we can come up with better endearments when we are wed?"
"Perhaps," she conceded.
Silence fell again, and Marian looked at the yard, as if seeing it for the first time. The main bedroom looked over the village, but Robin's room, where she would be moving in a very short time, overlooked the back. Robin tried to look through her eyes. The trees of Sherwood were near. There was a stable out there, and a woodpile (one of many) stacked up next to it. There was a privy house, and a sty for a few pigs (sleeping, or whatever it was that pigs do at night).
"What do you think?" he asked her.
"I am glad that your father will be here to help us," she said. "I do not know how to manage a manor this size."
"We will make it work."
"I hope so."
"Marian, we will."
"Perhaps those should be our vows."
"Can they be a little bit romantic?"
"I am afraid I am not a terribly romantic person."
"I shall have to teach you, then," Robin said in his sweetest voice. He reached up and brushed a tendril of hair and tucked it behind her ears.
"Shall I compare the light in your eyes to the starlight? Or your lips to roses? True English roses?"
She giggled nervously.
He leaned over to kiss her soft, English rose lips. Marian hesitantly kissed him back. Robin knew she had not had much practice, but it seemed she would not need much teaching at that particular romantic maneuver. He was momentarily lost in the feel of her lips, and the taste of her. Not much of roses, but rather a juniper she probably nibbled on after dinner.
He wiped a palm on his trousers before reaching up to her cheek (not wanting to leave mud there), but as soon as he touched her, she pulled back quickly. They both were breathing heavily.
"I should go."
"Very well," Robin agreed.
They stood up and he followed her to Kay, her large horse. She hauled herself on his back, and Robin reached over to a bush of Lady's Nightcap, appropriate, and when she was settled, he handed up a single white blossom for her.
"My Lady."
"Good night, Robin," she said, taking the flower.
"Sweet dreams, Marian."
He watched her ride out towards Knighton. When she was gone from his sight, he picked a flower from the bush, Locksley was full of such bushes of Lady's Nightcaps (your mother's favorite flower, Father said). He tucked the bloom behind his ear and scaled the wall to his bedroom, imagining he would find Marian there, rescue her, and lead her off on a white steed, or perhaps the noble Kay, and… the fantasy ended when his feet touched the bedroom floor. He stripped off his clothes, wiped the muck from his body, and hid the muddied tunic and trousers at the bottom of a pile of laundry before crawling into bed again.
As he clutched the flower in his hand, he thought of visiting Marian tomorrow night. The girl must be wooed properly.
o0O0o
Additional Author's Note: I'm pretty sure the flower bush that Robin runs his hand through when he returns to Locksley in the first episode is a Lady's Nightcap, or the Wood Anemone. How nerdy am I to look that up? Don't answer that, but feel free to review anyway.