Prompt: Oct. 4 - Three things my father told me


She watched Guy ride away from the Manor on his black horse for a long moment. She watched him gallop down the long drive, and she watched the way he sat his horse—very tall and very proud. He looked like a perfect knight, riding away. He was in control and strong and couth. He was a man.

Her hand moved to her cheek. The wind gusted at her, and she shivered. He kissed her when he said goodbye. He kissed her.

"Marian, come inside, for pity's sake!"

She moved a little, glancing at the manor at her back, where her father called to her, and then down the road again. Guy was gone now. It was only the long, lonely drive, with trees on either side. And her, standing alone. She turned and went back inside.

Her father was just inside the door, waiting for her. His hair had gotten grayer in recent years, and his eyes weren't as sharp as they used to be. She worried sometimes, for his often poor health, but recently he seemed a bit better. He walked all around the manor with Guy and her and watched as they walked by themselves. "You stayed out there a rather long time," he said, glancing at her. "Did he say anything to you?"

She glanced at him and shook her head a little, shrugging. "He said goodbye." And he kissed me, she thought. She didn't have to touch her cheek. She could still feel his lips as if they'd burnt a mark there. She started to walk down the hallway that would lead to the staircase and up to her personal quarters.

"Hmph," her father grunted, walking along with her. "Perhaps I ought to ask him his intentions."

She glanced at him and then back in front of her, down the hallway, at the paintings gracing the walls. His intentions. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear them.

Her father walked in silence for a moment, but not a very long one. "Perhaps I ought to ask you yours," he said at last. "Truly, Marian, I worry sometimes. I think you're going to break that boy's heart. He doesn't deserve it, you know."

"I know," she said, rather too quickly. She felt her father's eyes turn on her sharply at her sudden response. Usually, she just shrugged off his comments on the subject. She glanced over at him and bit her lip.

"You know?" he asked slowly. "Just...what do you know?"

She looked at him and felt at a loss for words. The paintings on the walls showed men hunting in the forest, a great forest with ancient trees and leaves of emerald. "I...know he doesn't deserve it. He—he...he—"

"He loves you," her father said what she couldn't bring herself to utter.

She looked at the floor and at her hands, twining her fingers together.

"I believe that, Marian. I think you do, too." She glanced at him, and he went on, "You'd have a comfortable home with him and one that would be sure not to crumble. Sir Guy didn't only inherit his money and position. He worked to attain it. And he would take care of you."

The matter sounded all together finished with already. She pursed her lips together and forced her head to nod in agreement, whether or not she felt the same way. "Yes, Father," she said in a monotone voice.

He looked at her again, with a sharp glance. "But, Marian," he said, "I also think... I realize that I'm not with you constantly. I don't know what you do in your spare time. I don't know your thoughts on Sir Guy or...anyone else. But I want you to be happy."

She glanced at him again. He said he didn't know in a way that made it sound very much like he did know. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what he knew. She never told him about Robin. He knew that they used to be friends when he worked at the manor. But she wasn't entirely sure he'd even connected the outlaw Robin Hood as being the same Robin that worked for them and then as a woodcutter. In any case, they never spoke of it.

"But there's many ways to be happy," her father went on, smiling at the hallway in front him. "And many ways not to be happy. You see, Marian, you come from a well off family. And you could easily be happy marrying into an equally well off family. On the other hand, you could make yourself miserable marrying into an equally well off family and wishing you could see another side of life. So say you don't marry into a well off family at all. Say you ran off and married the miller's son, or something equally disreputable. You could be happy, with love or some other wide eyed notion, but would you? I think, sometimes, you wouldn't. You wouldn't have the things you were used to having, and you would no longer have the same sort of peers. The people you spend time with now would look down on you. It would be an entirely different world, and while it might be what you want, you might not truly be happy there."

She looked at him and wondered if he was done lecturing her yet. It sounded rather like one of his going-senile lectures. No one in their right mind would consider her marrying that far beneath her. No one, except...herself. She bit her lip.

They were coming upon the staircase now, and she was grateful. She adored her father, but she hated hearing him talk about her marrying. She thought often that she simply wouldn't marry. She was well enough off that it could be avoided. Her father wouldn't be happy, of course. A lot of people wouldn't be happy, and... in the end, she wondered if she would be happy. She didn't want to be alone her whole life. She felt alone enough as it was. And when she got older... there'd be no one.

"You seem to have very little to say on this subject, Marian," her father said, as they stopped at the staircase. "Just answer me this: if Guy asked for your hand, would you accept?"

She looked into his gray eyes and sighed. "I don't know, Father."

"Fair enough," he said, nodding at her. She started up the staircase, but he held out a hand to stop her. "That being said, there are three things I want to impress upon you."

She paused, waiting for him to tell her.

"First, as I previously stated, I want you to be happy. Regardless of who you do or do not marry, all I want is that you would be happy and content. But secondly, you can't always have what you wish for. I fear sometimes that your ideals might get in the way of your actually living. And finally, Marian, if you're going to break someone's heart, make sure it's not your own."

She smiled. She still wasn't entirely happy about the subject matter, but for the moment at least, she was content. Her father loved her, and she loved him back. She stepped down from the stair she was on and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Father," she said. "I love you."

She smiled at him and then continued on her way up the staircase. When she reached her door, she opened it and saw Robin lying on her bed. She quickly shut the door behind her and blinked at him.

"Marian!" he said, sitting up and grinning at her. "You're here. I've been waiting."

She pursed her lips together. He always showed up at the strangest times. "What—what are you—?"

"Don't worry, I was ready to roll over and jump out the window at a moment's notice, if anyone came in."

"I just came in!" she argued, yelling at first but moving quickly to a whisper, lest anyone should hear. "And you barely moved!"

"Well," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I know your footsteps. You have a very comfortable bed, by the way. Nice quarters, in general. I like them." He glanced around the room with a nonchalant gaze, like he was appraising the place. Finally, he turned to her with a smile.

"Well—why are you here?" she asked finally, moving towards him.

"Do I have to have a reason?" he asked, looking up at her when she stopped in front of her bed. She said nothing, and he went on, "Actually, I wasn't even planning on coming here. I was just in Sherwood, sort of close to here, when I happened to see you and Guy of Gisbourne walking about, and...I thought I'd stop by."

"Just because I was walking with Guy of Gisbourne?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he could actually be...jealous.

He adjusted himself on her bed, fiddling with her pillows and ultimately putting them back the way they were. "Well, you know, I was just... wondering why he was here." He glanced up at her eagerly. "So, why was he here?"

She bit her lip. She hadn't told him this yet. She didn't think he'd much care anyway, but now...she didn't want to tell him. "He's here, because...we're sort of...well, he's courting me," she said, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"Courting you?" Robin asked. He nearly threw himself off the other side of the bed and stood with his hands on his hips. "What right does he have to be courting you?"

She threw her hands up into the air, suddenly annoyed. He was always like that! He never so much as told her he cared, but if she mentioned any of the men she would actually be expected to marry, he exploded. "As much as anyone else!" she shouted at him.

He shook his head at her. "No," he said firmly, like a disapproving parent. "He's a Norman—"

"I'm half Norman, Robin!"

"Not like him! He's just a tool. He'll do anything the sheriff tells him to do just so he can be higher up in power and influence, because that's all he is—a power hungry bloody Norman dog!"

There was a pause of silence for a moment. "Robin, they used to call you a Saxon dog," she reminded him in a soft voice. "Didn't you say that you wouldn't be like them?"

He waved his hands in the air. "All right, I overstepped, but Marian—"

"It's not like we're getting married."

"But that's what courting leads to, isn't it? I don't know why you'd be courting him if you never intend to at least consider marrying him."

She bit her lip. She didn't want to answer his questions about it. She didn't even want to think about them. "Well—maybe I am considering it," she said, crossing her arms. "That doesn't mean it's going to happen."

He stared at her and then sat back down on the bed, moving forward until he was sitting right in front of her with his legs crossed. "Marian, do you like him?" he asked, looking intently into her face.

"Well—yes," she said, moving away from him a little. He was rather uncomfortably close.

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "You don't sound terribly convincing."

"He's kind to me. He talks to me, and he listens to me, and...I don't think he would ever hurt me." She said the last nearly biting her tongue. She remembered the time he threw her to the ground. It hurt. But it was half a year ago, and he'd barely touched her since. She didn't believe he'd do it again.

"You don't think he would hurt you. But are you certain? You ought to know he wouldn't hurt you if you're going to marry him."

"I'm not going to marry him! And no, he...he wouldn't hurt me."

He stared at her a moment longer, occasionally dipping forward to look into her eyes, as if he was searching for something specifically within them. "Do you love him?" he asked at last, peering at her.

"I—" She cast her eyes around the room, searching for some distraction. She didn't want to answer the question. It was complicated, she could tell him. A lot of things were complicated. "I think...he loves me," she said, glancing at him and quickly away again.

"That's not what I asked, Marian."

He peered into her eyes again, and when she finally returned his gaze, she had to answer honestly, "No."

"Well, then don't marry him!" Robin said, jumping off the bed again, this time on her side. "And don't court him! Next time he comes, just show him the door. Don't lead him on. Men don't enjoy being led on." He moved towards the window with a jaunty pace.

"Neither do women," she countered, almost under her breath.

He turned back towards her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sighed. "Nothing. But Robin..."

He watched her. "What?" he finally asked when she didn't go on.

She pursed her lips together, not sure what to say. It's complicated, but he already knew that. I can't wait forever for you, but that sounded cruel, and she wasn't sure she meant it. "I...I just..." She trailed off into a sigh.

"Come find me when you think of it," Robin said, coming towards her. "I'd stay longer, but...I actually was supposed to meet Little John and Will somewhere, and...I think they'll be waiting." He smiled at her, winked, and then hesitated. Then he seemed to make up his mind and came a step closer. He lifted her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers. Before she could say anything, he let go and dashed towards her window, and then he was gone.

She was alone, again, but she glanced down at her hand and smiled. It was only on her fingers, but his kiss would leave a mark that felt a hundred times warmer than Guy's.


Update! Yay! This sort of seems like two separate scenes, but they're too short to actually be separate, so. Yeah. You should review, because I love you all! And I'm hoping to maybe start updating at a more regular pace...? We'll see.