TW: Self-harm
Marian was holding her breath, perhaps because she was so firmly in Guy's grasp. There had been a bridge between them, tenuous and distant as it was, but now there was only a hollow. Guy had idealized her, seeing in her qualities she never had or wished to have. Now, against all reason, the fact that she was- as ill as the word made her- tarnished, he clung to her all the harder.
Her legs were draped over his knees on the edge of the bed, and he held her in his arms, his fingers knotted at the small of her back. Her hands rested gently on his shoulders and not wanting to look at him, she laid her head against his chest. His distinct scent no longer felt so strange, and it comforted her that she could grasp this single element of his being with certainty.
How brutalized he must be, she thought, to take my imperfection as a symbol of hope.
Did he expect her to join with Vaisey, to turn against all she had spoken for? Did he see the potential for hypocrisy within her and love her all the more for it?
And the minutes passed- why, why didn't he speak?
Slowly, she lifted her head, and he tilted his downwards so their lips nearly met. She gently lowered her head to avoid a kiss, but their foreheads pressed together, an act that seemed more still more intimate. She felt the quick beat of his eyelash against hers before she pulled away, straining her stomach and her wound. She let out a slight cry and clutched him for balance.
"Did I hurt you?" He asked, peering into her eyes.
Yes, you have, and more. But she shook her head.
"No Guy. I am well. Tonight is only- unexpected for me." She was on his chest again, and there was the heartbeat, one more element of stability in a man she could not fully know.
His chin was on the crown of her head. "For me too, Marian. I have not gained what I expected to gain."
What I expected to gain…She snorted in derision, and was fully aware of her breasts pressed against him, her buttocks resting against his knee. She had a habit of seeking refuge in the most foolish places. She slipped off of him.
"And what was your expected gain?" she cried weakly. She stood to face him, but it was too much, and she found herself slinking before the fire. He seemed puzzled, but his face hardened. "A piece of flesh, to be the first to stain my honor?"
"There would be no stain if I was your wedded husband!" he said. "You must see that at least."
"No Guy, I do not see it. I am as I ever was." She spread out her arms, though not fully. A bead of sweat formed of her forehead.
"But what were you?" He lowered his head. "But I fooled you I suppose, with this false king. What could I expect with but a trick in kind?"
It seemed such a false position, to convince the husband she had never wanted of a fact she did not deem worth consideration, that his prize was still worth the wanting despite its defects. She stared into the fire, weary and wishing she could rest untouched.
And the fire, for all its ferocity, made her think of dawn. The beads of sweat on her forehead became rivulets, and she realized in panic that her mind was going. It was no strange thing- she had conquered death and there must be a price to pay. Her eyes fixed on the embers, made more brilliant by their black sheath. But if she fell- if Guy sought treatment while she lay senseless….
The wound. My father.
And all the while she would be in his power.
There would no Robin Hood this time, no triumphant rescue, and the realization made her feel like the living dead.
"Marian?" Guy called.
"Leave me be," she whispered.
It would only be a second. Have courage she told herself, as her vision began to swim. Her hand shook as she reached into the fire, and grasped a burning ember. Marian felt her flesh sear and heard Guy's hoarse call. She screamed as she placed it on the tender wound before bunching up her sheath and pressing down, hard. There must be no trance. Leave no trace. She didn't know that she was capable of such a call, such a scream, hoarse and wild as a fury, but she left the ember there, and let it burn through her.
"Marian, you are mad!" Guy cried, lifting her by her ribcage so the ember fell to the floor. He clutched her, tight, and even in her failing mind she could feel his body heave.
"Find Djaq," she said through pale lips, and her eyes closed.
