She woke to a quiet household, still dark like the night outside. The dogs were snoring beside her and though changed, Robin sat beside her in the chair, asleep as well. She studied him as he slept, the harsh memories of life absent in slumber. He thought himself a fine warrior but in the late night, after a hard day's work, he slept where she didn't and she often watched him. She watched dreams come and go, some terrible and frightening and some, where he sighed so softly. She did not often stay after that. That sigh was one of adoration and she knew it would not be for her and she had no desire to know who it was for.

It had amused her in the beginning. Much had changed since then. She had come to know him; come to understand him. They had spoken of philosophy and thoughts that no Lord would ever allow his wife to speak. Robin had, though. She had debated him into the night, her with her ideals and him with his tales of travel and horror and bravery. His understanding of fellow man. She had never had that and it had opened her eyes to it. He had a beauty that she had never possessed and it sounded ridiculous to utter that, even in thought. His men were bawdy but Robin was like water. He curled around things that got in his way, he softly flitted between places and when it suited him, he crashed into things that got in his way and broke them apart like they were not there.

"Marion?"

She blinked and looked at him, soft from sleep, watching her carefully.

"I am fine," she whispered.

The hustle and bustle of the house that accompanied her so often was gone and she struggled to recall why. Robin, as always, seemed to realise that.

"You told me to send them home for the night. I can cook, if you are hungry."

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I am not a helpless maid," she said, though her usual vitriol was absent.

"I know," he smiled.

His smile was one of the best parts of him. One of, for she was finding that there were many. But it warmed her from the inside on days when all she felt was cold. She sighed and he winced as he sat up.

"Have you been there all night?"

"I did say -"

"Husband," she whispered, ignoring the fact that when they were alone she did not need to call him that. It was a comfort even after such a short time. "I told you."

"I -" They stared at each other for a long time until he sighed again. "I wanted to be near you."

She blinked. And frowned. She realised, quite absently, that they had been dancing around those words, often. She, too, craved to be near him. She wanted to see him work the fields with Goliath, as long as she was there too. She wanted to see him playing with the dogs in front of the fire, kneeling at her feet. Her body warmed for a different reason and she blinked up at him.

"Come to bed."

It was his turn to pause now as he stared at her.

"Marion."

"Robin," she said deliberately, remembering his request on the first night. "Please?"

He stood, filling her vision with his stature. He wasn't particularly tall, she was taller, though she knew it unusual. But his presence filled her every space and she craved that, especially now. When she felt so empty.

He slipped out of his tunic, leaving his chest bare and raised an eyebrow. She swallowed but nodded. He shooed the dogs and slid under the cover beside her, nearest the door. He groaned as he relaxed into the mattress and she felt a kind of sorrow that she had made him sleep on the floor for all this time.

"I still sleep with a knife," she muttered as he turned over.

"I have no doubt, my Lady."

Her eyelids fluttered once more as his strong hands brushed away her hair from her shoulder. She wasn't wearing her cap and it would no doubt take her a long while to untangle it later, but as his calloused fingers brushed against her shoulder, she shivered.

"Will you allow me to hold you, Marion?"

She could feel the tears building again and instead of replying, she nodded and felt his body against hers. She gasped as his hand slid over her ribs and onto her stomach.

"Are you well?"

"Fine," she whispered. "Just -"

She swallowed against the bile and he withdrew, causing her to wince in a pain that pierced her heart.

"Marion?" he whispered. "Speak to me. What ails you?

She nearly didn't. She nearly told him that if he was going to be her inquisitor then he should leave and never return, but a part of her wanted to tell him what she had done. How she had tainted her soul.

"We were," she swallowed. "I was in the village. I had thought it was you, returning. It was like a dream, they rode into the village but they did not stop. They kept riding, they ploughed over Catherine like she was nothing. Tom was knocked into his sty and when they got off their horses it was chaos. I have never -" She took a deep breath and wished she had the fortitude to roll over into him. To feel his arms surrounding her. "They gathered us together and noted our assets. They knew who I was, and I was removed from the group and taken below the hall. I tried to get out Robin, I did. I tried, I fought -"

"Marion," he growled. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing," she sobbed.

His arms, without hesitation, wrapped around her and pulled her into him. She sobbed as she clung to his arms but she shook her head as she interrupted.

"They didn't -" She took a deep breath and felt his lips on her shoulder. It grounded her somewhat and she nodded. "I was left there until they had got through most of the village folk. Then he came in, locking the gate behind him. He taunted me. Where are you? Come out. Montre-toi à moi."

"Marion," she whispered. She could hear the pain in his voice and she summoned all of her courage and turned. They lay beside each other, Robin's hands steady on her waist while she searched his eyes.

"He did not touch me, not really. He," she recoiled. "Sniffed my hair."

"He didn't -"

"I," she blushed. "Keep a knife in my boot. I bent to get it and he followed me, he," her stomach rolled and he placed his hand over it. She paused, feeling the sensation and wondering whether it was normal to feel such a thing. "He knelt. And I stabbed him in the neck."

He blinked and stared at her, and then blinked again.

"You -" He laughed. "You!"

She watched as a bevvy of emotions fluttered across his face, settling on one she had never had a name for. He wore it often when they spoke, but she could never deduce what it was.

"You are truly the Lady of the Manor, Marion Loxley."

She snorted and blushed at his praise. She giggled, feeling the tension letting go and fell into almost hysterical laughter as she lay together, laughing at the ridiculous events of the previous day.

"He did not hurt you?"

"No," she whispered. She gave into her desires and reached forward to trace his frown. "Loop saved me."

"Loop?" he chuckled.

"One of the Wildling boys. Their leader. Jamie."

"Not -"

"The very same," she managed a smile. "He helped me free the townsfolk too."

"A brave lad."

"Brave and wild."

He nodded and sighed against her forehead, where his lips pressed against it. She reached forward carefully and placed her hand on his side. He was covered in scars and because she could not think of anything else to do, she traced one along his side.

"You must always remember to keep your sword hand down," he chuckled, reaching to move her hand along it and around his back. "You never know who is going to get a lucky swing."

"I will remember," she teased.

He chuckled and brushed her hair away. His fingers traced her face and she stared up at him, losing her ability to speak.

"My Lady," he whispered.

He kissed her forehead again and pulled her close. Even Robert, on their wedding night, had not been this patient, this soft. She knew she was causing him to wait. She wondered whether he would wait forever and immediately decided that even if he could, she would not.

"I am not a beautiful woman," she muttered, making him still. "I am tall and gangly, like a -"

"Marion," he said softly, cupping her cheek so she would meet his eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman in all the land."

She scoffed and prepared herself for the joke, but he did not. She met his eyes again and fell into them, reaching up and pressing her lips to his. He moaned, deep in his chest where her breasts were pressing and she felt a sharp jolt between them as they rubbed against him. She had known what to expect with Robert and so she kissed Robin one last time and rolled away, pulling up her gown and settling back.

"What are you doing?" Robin chuckled.

"I -" She frowned and looked sideways at him. "Preparing."

"Marion," he chuckled sadly. "Come here."

He pulled her back against him and it was her, this time, that gasped as his hand cupped her rear and pressed her against him. He used the moment to kiss her again and she could scarcely draw breath as he trailed his fingers over her body.

"Robin -"

She could not understand what was happening to her. Robert had been kind, but she had not felt like this at all.

"It is alright," he muttered quietly. "Trust me."

She nodded and he moved her hand up into his hair. She was slow with the confusion, but as she slid her fingers against his scalp, she heard that sigh that she coveted and moaned properly. It was her's. It was for her.

He kissed her until she could barely draw a breath and only when she thought she would burst did he slide his hand down over her hip.

"Do you not want -" she did not really know what she was trying to say, but he shook his head anyway and smoothed his calloused hand over her thigh.

"Robin," she hissed, jerking into him.

For the first time, she could feel his manhood, pressed against her hip and she gasped at the thought that it would soon be inside her. It felt much bigger than she remembered Robert's to be and she despaired at the pain she had felt during their short but sweet night compared to this.

"Relax," Robin chuckled. "I will never hurt you, Marion. Never."

She believe him and it was her, this time, that kissed him tenderly. He kissed her back, just as gently, and pulled her leg over his hip. She realised at that moment that of the two of them, she would have to allow him the lead. He knew what he was doing and his words echoed around her chest. She did trust him and she trusted him in this as well. She relaxed and Robin moaned around her tongue.

His fingers crept higher and higher up her thigh and between. She worried absently about her menses but she had had them not a fortnight before and could not understand what was happening until his fingers found her sacred place.

The noise she uttered was not human and it horrified her. She blushed deeply and tried to move away but Robin simply removed his hand and held her. Not tightly enough that she could not have moved, but enough to make her pause.

"That is normal," he whispered. "You are supposed to feel like that."

She opened her mouth to speak before snapping it shut again. She was about to tell him that their experiences were vastly different but she did not want to bring their history into this bed.

He moved her leg back over his hip and looked at her, waiting. She nodded and slid his hand much quicker up her thigh and between again and she moaned again as he explored her nether region. There was a moment when he brushed against something that made her back bow and he moaned softly as her body pressed against him.

"Robin," she gasped.

"I have you, my Lady," he whispered, brushing again on that spot.

She shook endlessly as he toyed with her. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ear that she had to press against him to hear his words. Soft and kind, telling her lies about how beautiful she was and how proud he was that he was hers. Not that she was his. That he was hers. Something snapped within her and she cried out against him. Her body trembled and pulsed and she tightened her hold on him as it ebbed.

He soothed her, rubbing her back and kissing her hair where she could reach. She could not form words for a long time before she finally could manage to let go and look up at him.

"I did not know."

He smiled kindly and nodded, cupping her face. A scent she was somewhat familiar with assaulted her senses and she turned her face into his hand. She had heard the servant folk talk of things that no lady should have knowledge of once and it focussed her memory then. Of the way a woman could please a man. She licked his hand, her tongue cautious against his palm and tasted the salty sourness of what she understood to be herself. Robin huffed and tightened his other hand on her nightgown.

She saw his damp fingers and drew them to her mouth, tasting them and pulling them between her lips.

"Marion," he gasped. She felt so powerful, suddenly.

With knowledge she did not possess, she leaned up and pushed him onto his back. She kissed him deeply and felt his hand on the small of her back twitching as her own fingers explored his expansive chest. His scars seemed sensitive when she touched them and when she ran her tongue over one on his shoulder, tasting the salt and the herbs they bathed in, he moaned and it was him, this time that shuddered.

"I do." She swallowed. "I do not know what to do."

"Touch me," he said gently. "We can learn together."

"Learn?" she snorted. "It seems you are already learned."

"Not about you, my Lady."

She understood, barely, and nodded as he slid his hand up her side and over her breast.

"Do you enjoy that?" he asked softly. "When I hold you here?"

She swallowed as his hand cupped her. She could not answer positively until his thumb brushed over her nipple and she whimpered.

"Yes," she hissed as he trapped it between his fingers.

"And the other?"

"Did I not -"

He shifted and pulled her astride him. She blinked as he sat them both up and pulled one of her nipples into his mouth like a babe.

"Oh," she shuddered. "Ro -"

"Ask me nicely," he chuckled, while he nibbled on it gently.

She dug her nails into his shoulders as he groaned against her skin.

"Marion, may I?"

"Ask me nicely," she sneered, making him laugh.

He did not ask, but his fingers once again explored her sacred spot and she jerked into him once more. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted without asking and she clung to him as he touched her over and over until she was pleading with him for something she had no name for.

"Permit me?" he whispered, kissing her softly.

"Robin, please."

She felt him, for the first time, between her thighs and lost her breath as he gently rubbed his head against her. She was shaking, in trepidation as much as anticipation as he settled it where he wanted it.

"Marion?" he said gently. "You control how and when. You, not me."

She realised what he said was true and she pulled him to her breast for a while as she felt everything shuddering inside her. Finally, as her thighs shook from the strain, she hesitantly let herself slide over him.

His noise, this time, was one that made her moan in response. She winced as she settled against him, but as they sat together, shuddering in turn, she could feel the muscles on his back straining.

"Robin," she whispered. "Let go."

He looked up at her and she nodded. This part she understood all too well and he stared for a long time, the strain forming beads of sweat on his forehead. His hands gripped her waist and lifted her like she was made from nought and pulled her cautiously back into him.

"Oh," she gasped, her head dropped back and her hair spilled down her back as he shook from the strain as he did so again and again.

As her body became used to the motion, she understood a little more about her being in control and started following his motions with her legs. As his hands fisted her shirt, she took over, struggling to find a rhythm initially before deciding that the best form was counterpoint to his jerking movement.

"Marion!" he husked gripping her nightshirt tighter and ripping it aside.

She rode him, the best way she knew how as he pressed opened mouthed kisses across her chest, sucking strongly against her breast until she was sure she would spill milk.

"Robin," she whispered, over and over. She wanted that reminder that it was this man, this man, that she loved, if only in her own heart.

His shaking intensified and she squeaked as he rolled them over, so he was between her legs and kissed her hard as he jerked up into her. She squealed as her body responded and felt everything squeeze around him in a way she had never as he moved like a man possessed. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips and crying out as he widened them more, pressing deeper and deeper into her until he shouted her name and pressed as far as he could. Were it that they were younger, she would surely be with child before long because he shuddered again and again, her belly growing hot as he finally lost his strength and dropped down gently atop her.

"Marion," he whispered. "My Marion. My Lady."

She had never been so lovingly claimed before and she shed more than a tear as she curled around him tighter. He had remained inside her and she found she liked it and locked her feet over his buttocks so he could not leave.

Eventually, he slipped from her and their combined waters slipped out as well. She blushed a little but Robin did not seem to mind. He sifted his weight off her and pulled her closer.

"Should we not -"

"Hush, woman," he chuckled. "Just for a moment."

She did. She breathed out over his chest and felt his heart beating against her cheek. She nuzzled against it and matched his calm while her eyelids protested being open. She slept.