On the day that Robin and Much set out for Huntingdon Marian consoled herself with the thought that it would only be for a few months. That they had no other choice. He was going for his father's sake, to save the man from despair every time he caught his son's eyes. For Locksley, to learn to be a better lord. Moreover, he was going for her, to learn to be a better husband.

When he did not return after six months, she consoled herself with the letters he sent, trying to blot out the feeling that something was wrong by finding amusement in his accounts of his efforts at lordship, and of Much's misadventures with the other servants of the place.

When he did not return after a year, she found herself spending less time responding to his letters, which in any case were a good deal shorter. She wished she could go to him, confront him in his neglect, wished she could believe it was neglect. Something was different about Robin. She knew that if she could see him that she would know, and this was what stopped her demanding that her father let her go to Huntingdon.

April brought rain to Nottingham. Marian, restless in the castle after a long winter. Her father was less inclined to let her out on her own, now that she looked more the woman than the girl.

She sat looking out of her window at Nottingham castle, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes on the forest in the distance. After several long minutes spent like this, she realised she looked like one of the fainting blossoms she despised, pining away, and stood abruptly.

Knowing her father was occupied with his duties, she strode down to the stables, saddling her horse and mounting before any of the stable boys could speak. She rode gently towards the gate, breaking into a gallop just before she reached the portcullis, streaming past the guards in a vision of black horse and red fabric that they could not help but identify as their lord's daughter.

'We should stop her,' one of the guards remarked, leaning on his pike.

'You first.' His companion responded.

*

Marian slowed her horse as they entered the forest, moving at a more sedate trot as they progressed along the Great North Road. She road on gently, glad that the forest afforded some shelter from the rain.

Something was different, she decided. It had been many weeks since she had been in the forest, but something was different, something she could not place. It came to her as the arrow flew past her an embedded itself in tree.

Robin.

She turned her horse around, expecting to see Robin standing with Much. Instead, he was standing alone, looking up at her with every attitude of insouciance.

'Who is this who shoots at an unarmed woman in the forest?' Marian asked, her resolution to be angry fading away at the sight of him. Almost.

'Come down from your horse and find out, my lady.'

'I am not your lady, sir.'

'I think you are.' Robin shot back. 'And you are not unarmed.'

Marian slid down from the horse and regarded Robin for a few moments. He stood where he was; apparently content to see her at eye-level. Somewhat less than eye-level, Marian realised, Robin had grown much over the last year and a half.

'I assure you,' Marian said, marvelling at how she managed to keep her voice steady, 'that I am unarmed, sir.'

Robin grinned at her, enjoying the game. 'You lie, my lady. Your weapons are concealed, but present nonetheless.'

'If I have concealed weapons, I am ignorant of their presence. Would you care to enlighten me?'

Robin stepped forward and reached up into Marian's hair, extracting the hairpin and holding it in front of her eyes, his own sparkling brightly.

Marian stared at him, then recovered enough to say, 'A hairpin only.' She snatched it back and glared at him in mock defiance, 'And I'll thank you not to touch.'

Robin stroked his thumb over her cheek and Marian jerked her head away indignantly.

'You are angry with me, Marian,' said Robin, dropping all pretence.

Marian found she was angry, but also unable to look at him. He had changed since he had been away. Though still skinny, with hair that was still just that little bit too long, something in Robin's demeanour was different. After months of longing to see him, now Marian found she could not look at him.

'You have not written to me in weeks,' Marian said, horrified at the words and the mumbling tone they were delivered in even as they left her mouth.

'I have been saving it all up to tell you in person,' Robin said.

Marian looked up at him, an amused expression gracing her features.

'Do not laugh at me!' Robin protested, grinning himself.

'How can I help it when you are so amusing?'

Robin laughed, and then suddenly grew serious. He slid one hand around Marian's waist and drew her body against his own, kissing her deeply. Marian found her body moulding itself to his of its own accord, her lips parting without her command.

When Robin stepped back from her and she moaned without meaning to, Marian decided it was really too much and turned away, giving her attention over to the horse.

'I am glad to be home,' Robin said softly.

Marian turned at the tone in his voice, something amiss there. Robin never spoke so softly. His eyes were filled with something odd, something that looked like fear.

He was afraid of her.

Then Robin smiled and the strange shadow that had taken over his features melted away. 'How long before you are missed?'

'Some little while yet,' Marian responded.

'Tether your horse and walk with me for some little while.'

*