Authors notes: This story is inspired and based upon the movie "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" (I know it's not everyones favourite, but I have fun with it and love the interpretation of the characters). I have done some limited research into Medieval traditions, living experience, etc, but some is conjecture, made up, or interpreted from different moments in history. In the original film I place Robin and Peter as being about 32 years old and Marian as 26. In this story Robin and Peter are 20 years of age and Marian 14. This is un-beta'd so any mistakes are completely mine.

Nottingham, 1182

Spring was finally showing its colours, bright red poppy heads were swaying in the lush long green grasses of the meadows, irises were reaching skyward with a strength belying their appearance of fragility, and little daisy heads scattered along the dirt path that lead into Sherwood path wound its way down a gentle slope, hiccuping with a dip just before the tree line. Standing on top of this slope, looking apprehensively into the forest, stood two young ladies.

"Are you certain Marian?" asked the shorter, slightly stockier girl, her pale hands pushing her light brown hair out of her eyes.

"I am certain Edith…. Peter and ….Robin, went in there with my father's sword," Marian scowled. "I am going to get it back and go tell father…. and Robin's father as well!"

Marian suppressed her fear and started to march down the path towards the forest. The extremely big, dark, cool, and possibly haunted Sherwood Forest. Earlier that afternoon, as she had been quietly sitting in a corner of her father's private chambers, away from the hustle of the banquet preparations in the hall, working on her tapestry, her brother Peter, and his friend, Robin of Locksley, had snuck into the room and grabbed the heavy broad sword from above the fireplace. Peter had struggled to lift it, he and Marian were made of the same, willowy like filament, slips of siblings; Peter had no more muscle than Marian, despite starting training with the sword and arrow in recent years. Robin, an excited grin on his face, had grabbed the sword from Peter, easily tucking it under his coat. Robin of Locksley was a tall young man, taking after his father, eschewing a strength of body and mind; and yet he had his mother's colouring, sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, eyes that always looked at Marian with an element of mischief. Peter and Robin quickly left the room, Marian catching a frantic whisper from Peter as they fled, to head to Sherwood, that no-one would find them there.

As Marian marched into the edges of the forest she scoffed - "well, I will find you Peter du Bois and Robin Locksley" - Edith caught up to her and grabbed her hand.

"Marian, I never imagined coming to visit you would result in us coming in…. here." Edith felt her knees and teeth chatter with fear. Lady Edith Dudley was Robin of Locksley's maternal cousin, and a dear friend of Lady Marian du Bois, courtesy of her having spent significant time in the Nottingham region visiting with the Locksley family. Her and Marian were the same age, and so their mother's had thought it a lovely thing to have them be friends. Though Edith doubted the wisdom of this as Marian led her to what she believed to be her doom. As they edged further into the dark dankness of thick tree stump and mulching leaves, Edith made the sign of the cross and silently called on God to protect them. Marian simply marched ahead, her determination to get her brother and his friend into trouble overcoming the fear that gripped her heart.

"Shhhhhhh!"

Edith halted her steps as Marian held up a hand.

"Did you hear that?" Marian hissed. With a sudden leap, twist, and jump, Marion disappeared down a valley edge, chasing the distant sound of voices. Edith started to weep as she picked her way through the undergrowth after her friend. It didn't take her long to find Marion, crouching amongst some bushes peering into a small clearing, her mouth hanging open. Edith peered through the leaves, her own mouth dropping at what she saw - Peter du Bois in a romantic clinch with Blanche Grimoult, the younger daughter of a very minor Noble with very small, insignificant lands. Marian turned wide-eyed to Edith.

"What is Peter doing? He can't do that with Blanche Grimoult, he's betrothed to your cousin, Isabella, isn't he?" Edith whispered fiercely. Marian nodded, before glancing back into the clearing. Pointing her finger, Marian whispered, "yes he is…. but there is father's sword, and whilst he is otherwise engaged I am going to get it."

Edith nodded, startling as Marian took of in a crouched run around the edge of the clearing, only then realising something very important that Marian had overlooked - whilst Peter was seducing Blanche, where was Robin?

Marian pushed her way through the bushes that clipped the edge of the grove of trees. Leaning against one of the trees was the broadsword she was desperately after. She paused momentarily, glancing at her brother - she pulled a face at the amorous display - his hands were were a man's hands shouldn't be on a woman, unless you were married woman… or a woman of disrepute; Marion felt herself blush. Rubbing her cheeks, she turned her attention back to the sword. Emerging from the bushes she tiptoed around the trees. Carefully she grabbed the hilt of the sword and tried to lift it. It didn't budge. Tipping the sword, she gave a tug and it slid through the dirt; victory was nigh. Backing up slowly, dragging the sword with her, Marian wriggled back through the bushes, giving one last glance back at her brother. For a moment Marian's heart stopped beating, Blanche was looking in her direction, but with eyes half closed with desire, Blanche looked vacant and distracted. Marian continued to pull the sword through the bush's, eventually popping out the other side.

Edith grabbed Marian's arm, her mouth opening to say something, Marian shook her head, hoisted the sword and started to trudge back the way they had come. Edith glanced back into the clearing and gulped, Blanche's kirtle had been flung to the middle of the clearing, and Peter was now making good work on his drawers. Edith turned abruptly to chase after Marian. It didn't take long to catch Marian, and when they had made it back to the edge of the forest, and the beginning of the path, Edith leapt in front of Marian.

"What about Robin?"

Marian, clutching the sword to her body, paled slightly, before shrugging her shoulders, "what do I care about Robin Locksley, he's probably gone home."

"What do you care indeed, and what are you doing with that sword?"

Both girls yelped, Marian almost dropping the sword, as they turned to where the voice had come from. There was Robin, his eyes twinkling with glee, arms crossed, leaning against one of the Great Oaks.

"This sword is my father's and you… and Peter… shouldn't have taken it!" Marian puffed her chest out in indignation, her fingers gripping the hilt of the sword so hard that they were going numb. Edith looked at her cousin apprehensively, she loved her cousin, he could be great fun, but he could also be a spoilt bully, and if there was any hint that he could get into trouble for his mischief he could become quite forceful. Robin pushed off the tree and sauntered over to Marian, a sly grin twisted his lips.

"Hello little mouse, why don't you give me that sword and I will return it to the du Bois household."

Marian stepped away from him, she hated how he called her little mouse, he had ever since he had discovered her aptitude as a six year old to hide away in pokey corners and cupboards and spy on the adults. She was fourteen now, almost a woman, and becoming exceedingly tall, and how dare he still call her little mouse. She hugged the sword even closer.

Robin sighed, "come on Marian, do you honestly think you can drag that thing all the way back home? You know, dragging a sword can ruin the metal; give it to me, I promise I will return it."

Doubt entered Marian's mind, she knew Robin was right, the sword was so heavy, and the thought of dragging it all the way back made her weary…. and what if he was right, what if she did ruin the sword, her father would bollock her, not her brother. It took her a few moments to deliberate and weigh up her options, in that time Robin grew quickly impatient. Without nary a thought for consequences he reached out and pinched her forearm hard. The almighty cry she gave echoed through the forest, and the pain caused her to drop the sword, she reached forward to slap him. Robin, laughing, swerved away from her, cleanly scooping up the sword as he did.

"Robin Locksley, I hate you!" Marian cried out in anger, her face turning scarlet, she pushed past a shocked Edith and ran up the path, out of the forest. She could hear Robin's laughter follow her. Edith turned in exasperation to Robin, "cousin you are a fustilugs!" And with that Edith shot up the path after her friend.

Robin, at twenty, had no more sense then he had at Marian and Edith's age. His father, feeling guilt over the death of Robin's mother and the subsequent affair he had had with a peasant woman, had given into all of Robin's tempers and whims, meaning his boy had grown into a teasing, spoilt, occasionally sulky man. Robin had also grown into a very handsome young man. His looks were twittered about all over the county, and even down in London, in the Royal court, word had spread like wildfire about Lord Locksley's exceedingly good looking son. In the past year Lord Locksley had received a multitude of invitations from important London families to visit, and bring his son. Of course Robin had not lacked for female company since coming of age, his favourite tool of seduction was mistletoe, twiddle a twig of the stuff above a beautiful woman's head and she would literally swoon in anticipation of a kiss. He could not engage all the ladies of the county though, Peter du Bois was stiff competition, perhaps not as comely as Robin, but he stood his ground in charm and wit. Peter, with his brown curly locks, deep brown eyes, and sun-kissed olive skin, had a distinctly French look, which Robin did not possess, but Robin, with his more chiseled jaw, light coloured long hair, and athletic body was the current preferred fashion.

Robin swung the sword easily through the air, he could not understand why Peter hadn't been able to build the same muscle he had, to manage these beasts of swords. Robin glanced up the path towards home. The look in Marian's eye as she declared her hatred of him, a look he had seen often, had for the first time disturbed him. He frowned. He could not understand why. His minds eye went to the way her mouth had looked as she had said his name. "Robin." Those lips, pink, soft, plump. Robin shook the thought from his head - what were a girl child's lips to a fully grown woman's, such as Blanche Grimoult's or Gwendolyn Courtney's. Giving himself a rueful smile, Robin tucked the sword under his arm and turned to head back into the forest.

"Peter!" Robin called. "Get your drawers back on my friend - we have to get ready for tonights banquet."

—

"Marian… please, can I come in." Edith knocked on Marian's bedroom door. A muffled sob could be heard from inside. Gently Edith eased the door open and slid through the tiniest of gaps, her initial smile of comfort slid from her face. Marian was curled up in the middle of her bed, her dark curls had escaped their neat braids, appearing like a wild bush of nettles around her head, and her face was a strange mix of red and white. Edith climbed up onto the bed, gathering her skirts delicately around her legs, reaching forward she smoothed Marian's hair down.

"Marian, we have to get ready for the banquet, your mother is sending Jane in a minute, to help us with our hair and dressing."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Marian wailed into her hands. "I can't go to the banquet Edith, HE will be there and I can't….I hate him so much"

Edith dropped her hand from Marian's head and clasped them in her lap. "I know Robin is spoilt, and I know he can be mean sometimes, but Marian, he is still my cousin, and he and his father have been good to me, letting me and mother come and stay, especially when… well, when father died. Robin sat up with me for weeks last year, when the grief was… to much. He can be good Marian."

Marian felt ill, and shame flamed through her heart, she sat up; Edith continued.

"I know it doesn't excuse the way he behaves around you, he should not have teased you, or pinched you, and I will have words with him."

Marian smothered a smile at this pronouncement from her friend, Edith may intend to have words with him, but as to whether Robin would listen or take her seriously was another thing. Reaching forward she dragged her friend into a deep hug. A knock at the door drew them apart.

"It's only me M'lady Marion, here to do your hair and help you dress." Jane walked in, her arms laden with deep ruby and green fabrics, a basket of flowers, and strings of pearls.

—

The banquet was an annual affair, to honour one of Nottingham's Patron Saints - Saint Stephen. The du Bois family were holding it this year, and their great hall had been decked out decadently. Ivy, mistletoe, and other greenery hung from the rafters and entwined the railings and stairs. Springtime flowers, wreathed together, decorated the walls and doors, and swathes of deep red and blue fabrics, some flecked with gold thread, lay across the oak wood tables. Candles were dotted strategically throughout the hall, to ensure there was enough light by which couples could dance, women could simper and flirt, and great beasts of men could down their ales. Guests had started to arrive, and so Marian and Edith made their way down the stairs into the hall and onto the dais. It was their first turn out as "women," Edith's mother had declared it time that Edith began to know and understand banquets, and dances, and courting, much to Edith's delight. And Marian's mother, though reluctant at first, had agreed to let Marian attend as well - provided that she danced with no-one other than Edith, and that she stayed away from the ales, heavy meats, and lecherous men, and that she would retire at midnight. Marion was happy with her mother's demands, if she was honest with herself the thought of courting terrified her. Edith and Marian had been treated to new gowns, matching in style, though both wearing colours that suited their complexions, Marian's a deep deep ruby red, and Edith's a rich evergreen hue. Embroidery adorned both, edging the sleeves, and running down the length of the front seams. Each girl had bright rings on each hand, and pearls dotted their tresses, which fell down their backs lose.

As they gazed out into the growing crowd, Edith smothered a laugh as she discreetly nodded toward the hall doors. Coming into the hall was the infamous Blanche Grimoult, along with her entire family, her father, mother, and six brothers. Blanche sparkled like a bright, overly polished diamond, too bright, too beautiful, Marian could understand a little why her brother was taken with her. A pull on her arm made Marian twist suspiciously; it wasn't Robin, but Peter.

"Hello little… flower," Peter winked at her, knowing she thought he was about to say little mouse. He then gave a low whistle, and held Marian away from him, taking her in. "My, my… my little flower is not a little flower anymore, I see a grand, beautiful lady before me." Letting go of her arms he bowed deeply, seriously, and with respect. Marian smiled gently, a blush stained her cheeks, no matter that Peter may be a philanderer, he was her big brother and she loved him. Edith cleared her throat to gain their attention. Peter grinned as he clasped Edith's hands.

"And you, the beautiful Lady Edith, I think the Blanche's, Gwendolyn's, and Evelyn's of this county have much to worry about in the coming years… but, oh, there is Lady Blanche, I really must go and say hello to her, it has been an age since I have seen her." And with that Peter leapt off the dais and made a beeline for his paramour. Edith and Marian rolled their eyes at each other before stepping off the dais themselves.

The banquet had started, stuffed birds, carved meats, and plates piled high with root vegetables were being carted out, when the hall doors burst open to reveal Lord Locksley and his son. Lord Locksley yelled a hearty greeting into the room, Lord du Bois cheered in return, already well into his cups. The Locksley's took their seats at the main table, Robin, Marian noted, already eyeing off the ladies. Rolling her eyes she turned her back to him and took up her discussion about her favourite writer, Troyes, and his thrilling Arthurian tales, with Edith. They were both scandalously in love with Lancelot, and firmly believed that he was a much better match for Guinevere than King Arthur ever could be.

Robin was casting his eye over the ladies there that evening, knowing that they were all likely casting their eyes over him as well, and he revelled in that feeling. His eyes stopped on one lady though that had her back turned to him. She seemed to be engrossed in a conversation and had obviously not noticed him. After the dinner he would have to remedy this, he thought, as he tucked into the roast duck. The lady's hair was a beautiful mahogany brown, and its natural curl had obviously been brushed into the rippling waves that cascaded down her back. He eyed off her figure as he grabbed a bowl of berries from the middle of the table. Slim, but with a light indent at the waist, and as she turned slightly to grab her cup, he spied a curve of breast, softly defined by the fine fabric that she was clad in. Catching himself staring, he slowly sat down, lowering the berries into his lap; his body had never responded like this before to only a slight glimpse of a womanly figure. Glancing around the table he realised that everyone else was too engrossed in their meals and conversational partners to notice his oddly quiet behaviour. Uncontrollably his eyes darted back to the lady, he counted the pearls that dotted her hair, one, two, three, four… twenty, how he wished to pluck them out, one by one, and run his fingers through her silky hair. She shifted to get more comfortable in her seat, her hair falling to one side revealing a warm, sun touched neck, a neck, Robin decided, that was calling out to be kissed. He had to kiss this unknown lady. The banquet could not finish fast enough.

After the banquet, holding hands, Marian and Edith ran to farthest edge of the hall. Couples were congregating in the centre of the large room, preparing for the first dance: a carol. The girls looked on excitedly.

"Do you think I will get asked to dance?" Edith nervously twitted, she smoothed her hair down before pinching her cheeks to give them some colour.

"Of course, I think you are the most beautiful lady in the room," Marian gazed proudly at her friend, and she was right - Edith was glowing. Her hair had taken on a golden sheen in the candle light, and her green dress accentuated her green eyes and porcelain skin, and the joy she felt was expressed through her twitching smile. The dancers began their turning circles, hands interlinked and feet lightly skipped in elegantly slippered shoes; Marian was mesmerised. Of course, she had seen these dances before, since the age of ten she had made it a habit to slip out of bed and peak her head over the upper banister to watch the magical swirl of ladies and noblemen, but to be so fully present this time, to be close enough to touch the velvety fabrics of the ladies dresses, this was a new delight. Edith grabbed her arm as a young man approached them.

"Lady Edith would you like to join the set?" Sir Aland Chauncy asked as he sidled up to the girls. Sir Aland was barely into manhood, the younger son of a Yorkshire Nobleman, sweet, certain of himself, and accepting of his lot in life. He would have to make his fortune somehow, as his inheritance would be meagre from his family coffers, and this did not make him a very eligible catch.

Edith blushed prettily, "that would be lovely Sir Aland."

As the couple disappeared into the crowd Marian felt her heart sink with the loss of her friend for company. Edith turned at the last, before joining the dance, and waved at her, but a moment later Edith disappeared with a shriek of joy. Sighing Marian backed up slowly, perhaps she could make her escape from the festivities; she suddenly felt so alone, like she didn't actually belong there, if this what court life was like she didn't think that she would like it. It wasn't the solid wood door she was expecting to bump into that slowed her escape, but a solid wall of warm human; a spicy mix of cloves, nutmeg, and sweat. Before she could turn around hands gripped her shoulders, a thumb lightly skimmed the skin of her clavicle, her skin goose bumped and she shuddered ever so slightly.

"And where are you heading off to M'lady, without so much a glance, a dance… or a kiss."

Marian gasped, she knew that voice; she turned quickly out of the man's hands and glared. Robin stumbled back a step in surprise - the lady he had sought, the lady he had…. responded to so physically at dinner, was Marian. Moments passed as they stared at each other, it took the stumbling of a drunken oaf to shake them from their shared stupor, unfortunately the man stumbled into Marian and pushed her straight into Robin's hands. Marian felt her knees collapsed from the violent shove, and she gripped onto Robin's tunic, trying to pull herself back up. As she did this Robin yelled in indignation and wrapped his arms around Marian, swinging her away. With a boisterous laugh, the drunk simply ignored the protest and made to step away, as he did he pointed above Marian and Robin, "Oi look there, you two lovebirds, there be mistletoe, you know what that means - eh Robin!"

Robin, for the first time in his life, felt himself blush. Marian, a look of shock still on her face, glanced above, and sure enough, amongst the tangles of ivy and wild flowers was a large sprig of mistletoe. Her eyes slid to Robin's, the usual teasing glint from his eyes was missing, instead a thoughtful seriousness pervaded his look, the way his eyes seemed to dart over her features discomforted her. What was he looking for, what did he want? Robin, himself, didn't know what he was looking for, all he felt was lightheaded from the ale he had drunk at dinner and all he thought was that Marian was no longer his little mouse, but a stunningly beautiful young lady. The sound of the dance, the glint of the candlelight, the raucous calls of the crowd disappeared, all Marian noticed was what a beautiful shade of blue Robin's eyes were, and to ask herself, why had she never noticed before. Robin felt himself lower his head and nudge her nose with his, he felt that he had lost all control of his faculties, he felt he wanted to kiss Marian, and so he did. Marian felt her eyes slide shut as Robin pressed his mouth to hers, her fingers loosened from his tunic as a delicious feeling overcame her senses, a feeling she had never felt before. She felt weak, but she couldn't understand why, she felt any control she had over the situation was all gone, and she suddenly felt terrified of what this could mean. Like a splash of cold water in the face, her conscience woke her from her lust hazed stupor, her fingers suddenly found strength, and she pushed Robin away from her. Without a glance in his direction she turned and fled.

Robin stood still, gazing after her, trying to understand what had just happened and why his hands trembled. A few years ago his father had sat him down and asked him what he thought of the Maid Marian. His father had told him that it was time they started to look for a possible betrothal and that Marian was a perfect choice, and that if Robin was amenable to having her as his wife it could be arranged. Robin had laughed in his father's face, "that child as my wife! You speak madness father! Besides, I don't think I am ready for marriage anytime soon…. there is talk of another Crusades." At the mention of the Crusades Lord Locksley turned his back on his son and left the room, it was an extremely contentious issue between them, and the arguments it had caused were legendary in the Locksley household. Maybe his father had seen something though, in Marian, something that possibly he, Robin, was only now sensing.

Appearing at Robin's side, Peter clapped him on the shoulder, "are you alright old friend?"

Robin started, "yeah, I, um, yeah, where's the ale, and more importantly where is the Lady Gwendolyne?" Though, Robin thought, what is Lady Gwendolyne compared to what had just happened. A morose feeling clung to his skin, a strange longing for something more, a wanting for mahogany hair, gentle hands that would cling to him, and a petulant glare from a pretty face. Shaking off his mood, Robin smiled at Peter as they headed for the ale tubs, Marian was a child still and it would do him good to remember.

Marian had fled to her rooms, slamming the door behind her, and flinging herself onto her bed. She lay still for a moment, listening to the thundering beat of her heart, feeling a peculiar prickly feeling trickle up and down her arms. Tentatively she touched her lips. She could still sense the pressure from Robin's lips; she stuck her tongue out and she tasted ale. It must have come from Robin's mouth, she blushed at the thought, her breath quickening again. Why had he kissed her? He had been under no obligation to do so - mistletoe was a silly tradition and not everyone strictly adhered to kissing underneath it. The most burning question, however, was why had this young man's kiss affected her so when she specifically hated said man. Had she not yelled at him that very afternoon that she hated him. And now he had taken her first ever experience of a kiss. Anger flared through her being.

"How dare he!" Marian shouted into the aether. A rousing cheer answered her from the hall below, as though the crowd had heard her and were mocking her. "I hate banquets, I hate court, and I hate Robin of Locksley and I will never forgive him."