Title: Aftermaths
Author: mythopathy
Rating: G
Summary: Short fic written for the Doomed Ship Comment Ficathon in LJ. The prompt was "Guy/Marian; heavy in your arms" by lalumena.
When Marian comes to stand in front of the guard at the castle gate it is late morning.
"M'lady, I need to check your bag."
For all that she's tired to the point of exhaustion, the face Marian turns to the guard at the gate is blank, defying all scrutiny. "Why?"
"Sheriff's orders."
Guy can hear the conversation from under the oak's shade where he stands. He wants to approach but there's a pressure in his chest, as if it's stuffed to burst with wool.
"It's just my shopping. I'm coming from the market." She's wearing a lovely blue dress and velvet slippers. Her hair unbound hides her face from him.
"I don't remember you leaving the castle. My shift started at dawn. Why haven't I seen you leave?" He ends his keen observation with an insolent, "My lady."
Marian looks at Guy. It is just a twinge of anxiety (and the tiredness) that she succumbs to but still she looks and sees understanding dawning in his eyes. Consequenses. There are always consequences when she tries to do things her own way.
Guy knows now that she slipped out of the castle and roamed Nottingham all night as the Nightwatchman. He wants to rage at her that she is foolish and putting herself in danger and he is afraid and how dare she. The wool inside his ribcage chokes him. He walks to the gate.
"I know why. I won't offend Lady Marian's ears as to what you were doing instead of guarding the gate, soldier. Now let the lady pass before I report you to the Sheriff."
"Thank you, Sir Guy," Marian says but he doesn't look at her.
He's afraid that if he turns to her he will be staring at the satchel and he is sure the outlines of a mask and a knife's hand guard are visible. Instead he's looking grimly at the shorter man who is garbed like a subordinate and therefore he must be one. The eyes beneath the helmet are watching back.
Surprise causes his hand to touch the still swollen side of his jaw. The Sheriff's hand always strikes a heavy blow and the evidence is clear on his jawline.
"My apologies, Sir Guy," there it is again, the rude tone, "but I'm sure the Sheriff would be even angrier if he found out I failed to do my duty twice." He grabs Marian's satchel and Guy is simply watching while she makes a show of holding on and then lets go.
Apricots roll down on the cobblestones, a spool of yarn and skeins of red wool spill on their feet. Nothing else.
"Fool!" Guy spits at the guard but he is relieved.
Marian and Guy both bend down to pick up her things. She gives him the close-mouthed smile Guy delights in seeing and he breathes a little easier. Her eyes are dark with tiredness. She really has not slept last night. And as she moves after her apricots he notices a bulge within the folds of her dress. That is where she hides her Nightwatchman costume he realises and his hands drop the fruit.
Marian stands but he is still kneeling. He looks lost and pays no heed to the obstinate guard or the curious people that have began crowding the street. She knows he hates having the folk's attention on him; she doesn't know why but it's obvious from the haughty lift of his head and that sniff full of scorn he does. But not now.
"Lord Gisborne. Will you escort me inside?"
He takes the offering hand and stands.
"You don't listen. You never listen," he says in a low voice. She gives him the satchel too and starts walking and he has to follow.
She leans on him and squeezes his hand. She doesn't do it to reassure him. If it weren't for him she would stumble.