Outlaw Queen Little moment in the forest - missing year.
Enjoy x
She flinches slightly when he starts the fire, its a small pile of wood not his best but it will see them through the night.
Apart from the flinch she hasn't moved since casting a protection spell around the small crop of trees they will call home for the night. A protection spell she said to hide the fire and them from preying eyes. The witch may have vanished to lick her wounds but her ever present simian army remains a threat.
The flicker of the fire may have startled her momentarily from her thoughts but she does not move from the log, remains staring into the forest, her face a perfect mask, still lost deep in herself.
Times passes and Robin keeps busy, turning the rabbit meat on the spit he has cobbled together. He has already gathered enough moss and dried leaves to form a large enough pile for them both to lay upon. Nowhere near as comfortable as the furs his camp offers or the castle beds but infinitely better than the hard forest floor. Years of experience have taught him now matter how tired he is, it is always worth the effort, where possible to scrap moss from the bases of trees, his back and arse will certainly thank him in the morning.
He is tired to the bone, a long day of trekking through dark forest and navigating swollen rivers, culminating in a less than enjoyable fight for his life. A battle with flying beasts attacking from all sides has taken it out of him physically and mentally.
The adrenalin from the fight has long since worn off leaving him weary, feeling his age and melancholy has set in. The clearing, their destination had been a waste of time, one of many failed ventures to thwart the witch. The plants rumoured to grow there long since withered and gone, another plan and hopes dashed.
Robin turns the spit again, the meat is almost ready, a pitiful meal for two but enough to take the edge off. He is lost in his own thoughts now, wondering how the witch knew to attack the clearing, is there a spy amongst them or was she watching from the beginning, waiting until they reached the open clearing, ripe for attack. Neither option is cheering but he hopes for the latter, the thought of a spy in their midst too depressing on a night like this.
The meat is ready so he hauls himself from the ground, ignoring the protests from his knees and lower back as he does so. Regina still has not moved, impressive he thinks briefly, her body must ache more than his, she cannot be accustomed to long treks and he saw her thrown through the air at least twice, slammed into trees and finally the ground as she went head to head with the witch.
He wonders if she is injured but dismisses it, no way she could be injured and remain ram rod straight on that log for the past hour. He sweeps a practised eye over her form just incase, sees no injuries through the thin worsted linen shirt, she thought to wear for the days activities, slightly more suitable than a corset but still woefully inadequate for a day trip to the forest. Her leather pants are scuffed at the knees but there's no visible sign of damage but he would bet his lucky arrow she will have a fair few bruises come morning.
"Regina" silly to whisper but he doesn't want to startle her and cannot fully comprehend that the shield will mask his voice.
Its only when he stands directly in front of her, repeating her name for the third time, arm halfway to her shoulder that she notices his presence and snaps a "what?" at him.
"Dinners ready, come closer to the fire?"
She must be cold, she has a long woollen travelling cloak but it does not offer her much warmth positioned as it is under her rather than wrapped around her.
Regina huffs out a long breath, pushes herself off the log pulling her cloak from beneath her as she does so. Robin swallows his own sigh, only the queen could be displeased by the offer of warmth and food.
Regardless of her displeasure, she sits cross legged by his side and after fastening the cloak around her neck then wrapping it around herself so she is fully hidden beneath its folds, she takes the food from him with muttered thanks and a tiny quirk of her lips which he takes as a smile of gratitude.
He wonders again if she is injured, the way she wraps the cloak around her body as if she is hiding from him gives him pause. Regina is not shy about her figure, every time he has seen her, her womanly curves have been fully displayed, demanding attention but now she sits huddled, as invisible as she can possible be.
"Are you injured milady?" He asks softly.
She shakes her head, mouth occupied with chewing the tough meat. To his surprise she maintains eye contact and after swallowing her mouthful tells him she's just tired.
She must be absolutely exhausted because she takes the canteen he offers with the same murmured thanks as before and accepts a spot next to him on the mat of moss and leaves without a word. He remains sitting to allow her a semblance of space as she settles. As expected she turns her back to him, curls on her side, still wrapped in her cloak.
After a few moments she has stilled, Robin rolls himself onto his back, leaves as much space between them as possible, apologises softly to her back, tells her there was not enough moss available in their shielded spot for two separate mats. It's the truth, the sheet of moss he tugged from the base of the tree would have crumbled and been useless had he attempted to split it, still he needs her to know his intentions are pure.
Something is off with the indomitable queen tonight, other than injury and more than tiredness, her mood is low, reminds him uncomfortably of their shared trip beneath the castle. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me, the rhymes runs through his head, an silly lie to tell children he thinks, words wound and he wonders what was said in that clearing before he got there.
She does not answer but he knows she is not sleeping. He should be in her spot, she lies on the outer side away from the fire, he lies in the safer and more comfortable spot. The thought gnaws at him so much so he finds himself telling her so.
"We should swap places, you should be closer to the fire, the night will get cold and your cloak is quite thin"
He does not mention the thought that niggles at him that her spot is more vulnerable than his, should the shield fail.
He is rewarded for his concern with silence, determined he rises to his elbows.
"Regina" he insists.
"Too tired to move" she mumbles, sleep heavy in her voice. He knows that bone deep tiredness where even speaking is an effort.
"Well then, allow me"
Without waiting for a reply, Robin sits up fully, leans over, bracing his weight in his thighs, he scoops her from his left side up and over his lap, depositing her to his right, closer to the fire. She gives an little cry of annoyance but no more, he scoots away from her side, again giving her room to settle.
The space between them is smaller now and he pretends not to notice the shine of tears in her eyes reflected by the firelight as she lies on her back briefly before turning away from him once more.
Robin dozes, a habit borne of many nights spent as look out, not fully asleep, not fully awake. Regina sleeps soundly next to him, she is truly out for the count, breaths deep and regular, she is quiet in her sleep, has moved from her side to her back, fingers curled around the edge of her cloak. Hair half up, half down, strands have fallen across her face, dark locks shinning in the firelight, lips parted slightly, expression soft and peaceful in sleep.
When she turns into him, shifts on to her side, closing the small space between them, cloak fallen away, hands resting next to his, barely a touch. He finds himself shifting towards her, tucking her into him without thought and when she is fully nestled against him, when he has fingers entwined with hers and her head on his chest, he sleeps.
He wakes, its still dark, the night only half through, woken perhaps by the owl that hoots incessantly or by Regina who has not moved from his arms but no longer sleeps.
"Okay?" He mummers, runs his free hand up her arm and down again.
"Mmmm" she replies sleepily, not as much awake as he thought.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"About what?"her voice is sharper now, more awake, alert ready to deflect but lacks the sting of attack.
"About whatever the witch said that had you so upset" he mummers quietly.
A beat of silence but Robin waits patiently, she wants to talk otherwise she would have feigned sleep, would not be here still lying so close. True she has shifted back from him, pulled her fingers from his but remains on her side, allows his hands on her, face level with his, dark eyes flicking across his face as she weighs her words.
"I have many enemies Robin, most with good reason, enemies I have earned, deserve even" she shakes her head a little, sad smile on her face. "This one, this enemy, not so much"
He recalls her words, I own my bad deeds and understands, this enemy is just because, an enemy from birth, a sister who hates her because she exists rather than for what she has done. He thinks of what could have been, he's heard the tales from others of her mother, thinks how a sister could have been an ally. He thinks of his men, his true brothers not through blood but though loyalty and friendship.
He knows her well enough to know she doesn't need nor want his words, his assumptions of her past, so he reaches for her hand, tangles his fingers with hers, keeps a gentle hand on her.
"Maybe its in our blood, wickedness" she sighs.
"Wrong witch" he smirks, trying to lighten the mood. No matter how much she has changed, there is no denying that she was indeed the evil queen but she knows it, no good can come now from repeatedly throwing the title at her.
She takes the bait "No just evil" she counters, half smirk, half grimace.
"You're not that person anymore Regina"
He's serious now, wishes to smooth away the frown lines, the doubt that others do not see it so.
She doesn't reply, flicks her eyes down, away.
"Shall I tell you what I see? What lays beyond the evil queen, I see a brave and bold woman, stubborn and hot headed yes, tempestuous even but a person, a real person with cares and concerns, not just a title"
She shakes her head at him, laughs a little "in the realm without magic, we are all stories, not real at all" she tells him.
"Disturbing indeed, am I, a story?"curiosity gets the better of him.
"Yes you are Robin of the Hood" she chuckles
"Tales of my bravery and dashing good looks I should imagine".
"Hmmm, still a thief and outlaw".
"Ahh but a dashing thief and a heroic outlaw no doubt"
"If pedalling the same old stories about stealing from one person to benefit another and wearing tights counts as your idea of heroism, then yes" she huffs back at him.
Robin lets out a loud laugh, "not going to let that go are you?"
"Nope" she smiles, a genuine one this time. Robin smiles back at her, proud that he has offered what he hopes is small comfort. The banter between them easy and light, as much as he enjoys sparing with her verbally, this is better, so much better.
"Wait tights?" He asks, delighting in her smile yet again.
Regina is laughing, head tucked down, the movement of her shoulders giving her away. Robin reaches for her, wishes to see her laughter "so lovely to see" he mummers.
He has accused her of acting without thinking, called her out a few times on her impulsive behaviour but truth is, he's not that much better than her, can be quite reckless himself and its that side of him, that reaches a hand to her face to bring it to his, to see her smile, allows his eyes to flick down to her lips, keeps his hand on her cheek, stroking from cheekbone down to trace those lips, presses his lips there.
Its gentle, what she needs, what he needs, she is the first woman he has lain with since Marian. He needs it to be with care, not to sully the memory of his wife, not to take from Regina selfishlessly.
So its with gentleness and softness that he touches her, kisses her. Its slow, so so slow, achingly so as he removes her shirt, kisses her skin. Soft, she's so soft and lovely as he wraps her cloak around them and moves his weight on to her, runs gentle hands down thighs, bringing hers to wrap around him. He doesn't nip or bite with his lips, doesn't thrust or grind carelessly, his lips never leave hers, slow languid kisses, foreheads touching, hands that soothe and slide over bare flesh. Its not angry lust or frustration that brings them together and he's grateful.
He would be a fool to deny the tension between them, present from day one, tension that could easily have overwhelmed and lead to a different union, a union that both would regret but this is borne of care and comfort, a good moment for both of them, weariness and sorrow turned to gentle pleasure and tenderness.
He knows in the morning she will rebuild her walls and become the Queen once more but for now as she settles in his arms and he whispers "stay", he pretends that one day she might.