Title: Morning Lullabies
Rating: T
Summary: AU, Husbanding England story: Little baby Katherine reminds them of another adventure.
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood.
Author's Note: Thanks for musical-penguins for the rapid fire beta. I'm not sure where all this inspiration has been coming from lately, but I don't want it to stop!

o0O0o

Marian woke slowly, fluttering her eyelashes in the dawn light. She so rarely got enough sleep lately, as Katherine did not yet sleep through the night (though stretches were getting longer; Marian was hopeful). And Marian refused to have a wet-nurse, stubbornly deciding to care for the babe herself. Robin, as usual, supported her decision, even if breast-feeding seemed strange and scary at first.

Speaking of… Marian rolled over lightly to gaze at her sleeping husband. It felt luxurious to be woken naturally, and not by the squalling of a hungry infant. And when her eye found Robin, she discovered he was asleep, with Katherine stretched out on top of his chest, the heavy blankets covering up to her tiny head. His right arm held on to her back, over the blanket, securing her position. Since Katherine had been born, he had been too tired for his own nightmares (which had been improving since their voyage home from the Holy Land anyway). But to see the two people she loved most in this world, curled up together, well. Her heart skipped a beat and she curled into them. Robin cracked an eye at her (not sleeping too deeply, then), and wrapped his left arm around her. Marian reached out and lightly brushed a finger over the back of Katherine's hand. The baby flexed her fingers in response, letting out a little fluttery breath.

"She is perfect," Marian whispered, knowing Robin was listening. Though she might have whispered it anyway, to the little dust motes that danced through the weak winter's light. Or to God and his angels and saints.

"You both are," Robin murmured, his eyes still closed, but tightening his embrace around her.

"You are rather perfect yourself."

"Thank you," he said modestly, for once.

She chuckled.

After a few moments of simply breathing the same air as her little family, Marian saw Katherine start to stir, her lips pursing in search of a nipple. When she found none, her eyes opened, her blue eyes searching. Marian brushed a hand over her daughter's fair hair in comfort.

She squawked, sounding like a gull from the Mediterranean. Robin opened his eyes again to see what his daughter might need, who was now flailing her arms about.

"Robin, she needs feeding."

"Alright, milk lips," he told the babe, sitting up and pulling her to kiss the top of her head.

Marian had settled against the headboard (lining it with pillows first) and rolled down her night-shirt. Seeing Marian was ready (and mercifully, before Katherine started really screaming), Robin passed her to her mother.

Katherine latched on quickly and started suckling. Robin got up and coaxed the fire to a small roar, which quickly warmed the room.

"Hungry, this morning, are we not?" Marian asked the infant, who was not interesting in answering. Marian glanced up to meet Robin's eyes as he come back to bed, and her heart clenched. Even now, after nearly three months of nursing their daughter, he looked at her with such adoration. Though first he was embarrassed and reluctant to watch her nurse, it soon became so automatic to her that he grew used to it. Yet whenever he caught sight of them, rushing in the house in the middle of the day, or perhaps a feeding before a Council of Nobles meeting, he got such a look in his eyes. It was a simple joy, and awe that she could so literally nourish their child. Marian switched breasts and Katherine, hardly losing her stride, continued feeding.

"Have I mentioned lately that I find you miraculous?" Robin asked her as he settled next to her and pulled up the blankets onto his lap.

"I am not doing anything that most women cannot do for themselves."

"Yes, but most noble women do not feed their own children."

"Well, I am not about to hire a woman with a child in her own arms she needs to feed," Marian told him.

"I never asked you to."

No, he never questioned this decision she had made.

"I am reminded of the baby Seth," Robin said slowly.

Katherine was finished, so Marian placed a clean towel on her shoulder (kept next to the bed for such a purpose), brought her daughter up to wind her. "Was that… Annie's son? That kitchen maid, yes?"

"Yes, nearly three years ago, now. He was a sweet baby, for all that he cried. I suppose he just wanted his mother's milk, like Katherine here. Poor lad, none of us could help him."

"Hmmm… I felt terrible that I could not get him to stop crying. But I had no experience with any children. You know, I never understood how you ended up with a kitchen maid's son," Marian said thoughtfully, smiling into Katherine's face, who smiled back.

Robin played with the baby's toes. She was staying awake for longer stretches now, and while she was a quiet baby, she was very observant, following them all with her eyes as soon as she learned to focus them.

"He was not mine, as you insinuated. We found him in the woods…" Robin began reluctantly.

"How did you know he was Annie's?" Marian asked, doubting the girl had been taught to read or write her own name.

"It was Roy who discovered it. He was taken prisoner moments after we found the babe, and the Sheriff bid Annie to bring him food. He overheard a few tender words to… Gisbourne."

"What?" Marian whispered.

"The child. His father was Guy of Gisbourne, who then left him in the woods as a trap for me."

Marian's eyes tightened around her own baby's tiny body, perched on her shoulder. Even now, with Gisbourne long in his grave (and his body a grave thousands of miles away from her) the hurt and the betrayal cut into her. As a young mother, her heart stretched out to Annie's. What would Guy had done to her child? What if she had not been able to give him a son?

"Apparently Guy had told her he was taking Seth to the abbey at Kirklees."

"He was truly a monster," Marian choked out. "Why did you not tell me?"

Robin sighed. "I do not know. I think you would not have believed me. Or that knowing would make things worse for you. He was courting you openly, Marian, and I was afraid if you had confronted him about it, that he would set his rage on you."

"He would not dare harm me."

"Really? A man who would leave his own son in the forest would not stoop to hit a woman? Or worse? A man who would have killed you in order to kill our King?"

Marian felt a tear slip down her cheek. "Do not tell me anymore about what he did."

Robin sighed and kissed the tear away, tasting the salt on his lips. "I am sorry I upset you, darling. I did not mean to."

Marian sighed. Those betrayals happened years ago. The man in question was dead. Annie and her son were safe beyond anyone in Nottingham. And Annie was a sweet soul. Surely any son of hers would not turn out to be like Guy of Gisbourne.

She adjusted Katherine and cradled her in her arms. She simply looked at the babe in her arms, who was calmly sucking on her fingers and watching her parents with wide blue eyes. Marian kissed her forehead.

"Thank you for telling me," she said slowly. "Though I do not know what to do with this information."

Robin shrugged. "I do not know either, but the way our conversation was going, I could not have kept it from you without you knowing something was wrong."

"Yes," she agreed. She leaned her head into his shoulder. "I am sorry I ever entertained a thought about his qualities. When I look back, I realize I was naïve. Though I rather think I was like one of the Sheriff's songbirds when I was in the castle. Trying to sing, but subject to their whims."

"Not quite, you got to sing to me as frequently as we could manage."

She chuckled. "And we managed to make such sweet music, Robin." She stretched her legs out, never wishing to leave their bed.

He smiled at her and nodded in agreement. "So much music that all of England now sings."

Robin curled an arm around her shoulders, and with his other hand, resumed stroking the baby's soft blond hair. He had to have a hand on both of them. Marian understood the compulsion. His arm felt heavy and right across her shoulders, and it staved off the chill that was coming back to the room as the fire burned back down. Oh, how she loved these mornings with her husband and her child, listening to the manor wake up. Sweet music indeed.