Black and White.

...

He's always been a righteous morally gray man in black.

Guy alternated in his vigils, first hovering over Sir Edward and the monk, then pacing the floor, and then settling near Marian as she scratched careful lettering across pages, pausing only to refer to a scrap from time to time as she inked the quill.

The letters. They were so… much. Edward's writing had leapt from the pages- ideas that might change not just England but all of Europe. Perhaps beyond. A few shaking strokes of ink would herald a new era of the world.

But it meant change. And change was risky. Guy had not clawed for so long to stretch his neck now, not when everything he'd ever wanted, dreamed, bled for, was so close to finally being his. To alter how power was granted, and the overseeing of that authority, was a direct strike at Vaisey, or would be seen as such.

God help him if Vaisey ever found out. God help Marian.

Guy was restless again, feeling useless in a stifling room full of action. Relief came only once when Marian needed more ink.

She may take the greatest risk of all. How could he protect her, shield her, from all this if it went wrong? Her writing was on the pages now. Edward had nothing to lose but Marian… Marian.

Sir Edward murmured, and Guy hurried over. Edward had grown restless and the monk was prepared to administer a draught of dilute poppy milk to him, but refrained as Guy raised his hand. "Listen, and commit his words to memory. Marian will want to know." The monk set aside the poppy milk and gently cleaned Edward's face, who continued to speak softly.

My Kate. Sweet Marian.

Liberty.

Guy could barely imagine liberty. Being able to make his own destiny.

Not long ago, during Edward's last awakening, he'd asked about the wedding. Not just if, but when. Guy had hardly known what to say, but he knew that he wished to marry in summer, while there were still flowers carpeting the ground and fruit to fill cakes and to sweeten the corners of a kiss.

Marian's kiss, freely given, with the warm sun in her hair and a proud smile on her face. Guy swallowed hard and paced away.

Edward was right. He was a romantic.

...

After an hour, with the afternoon sun just taking on a shade of orange, Marian stood and began hurriedly preparing the letters. "I did my best to copy his hand, though one or two may suspect it," she said as she began to dribble wax over the fold.

Guy handed her the seal she'd hastily carved from memory. "If I'm not wrong, the only people who would know it are in the forest with him."

She made no reply but raised an eyebrow before turning to the monk. "If you are ready, these can go to Father Mayson… at Knighton." Her voice softened when she saw that the monk, far from simply watching and praying, was busily changing sheets, mopping Sir Edward's brow, and listening carefully when words trickled from Sir Edward's lips.

Marian had barely pulled the seal free from the wax when she dropped it. "Papa?" She swayed in her seat, watching as the monk dabbed her father's lips with a cloth to wet them. Edward's arm swung wide, slapping against the monks side. He skillfully avoided it the next time.

With fear in her eyes, Marian blindly folded the next letter and set another bit of wax to melt. Then the letter slipped from her hands and fluttered to the floor.

Between the chaos and stillness, Guy stood and watched. He recognized the knowledge and skill on display; this brother was no idle statue. The man was a healer and watchman, and Guy himself would be a poor replacement no matter how much he wished to comfort Marian.

She sealed another letter.

"He can't go," Guy said.

"I'll manage. He knows Father Mayson." Marian folded the last letters and filled the burner with wax. "Mayson will deliver the letters to Robin for us."

Stubborn woman. Stubborn, beloved woman.

Guy took a deep breath. "Send me. I am no use to you here."

A change in plans now, when she had thought her plan so clear, so reliable, in the midst of so much madness, was a further shock to her. So much was out of her control, and Guy felt a pang of familiar sympathy. Little of his own life had been his choice, punctuated by tragedy and raised only by timely grasping. He recognized why the tears sprang to her eyes so suddenly.

"The friar would need a pass to enter after dark, and Vaisey would know. No one will suspect my leaving the castle to visit my properties," he explained. Marian glared at that, but Guy continued. "No one will question my comings and goings. I beg you, give me this errand, I am no use to you here."

"Father Mayson will not trust you."

"No," Guy conceded. "But he will trust you."

Marian paled. "I cannot possibly leave!"

Guy pulled a sheet of parchment free and tore it in half. "Write. Write whatever you wish. Seal it. I will deliver the lot and do as he says," Guy paused, and fixed his gaze on Marian. "I will do as you instruct."

Tears splattered the parchment and were swallowed. She sat and stared at the page until Guy set a quill into her hand and left her be until the sky reddened further and she sealed it shakily with Edward's crest.

The sound of rattling breaths grew louder.

…

Her kiss on his cheek burned as Guy rode hard into the cooling evening. Guy had not seen her jaw set so firmly as when she gave him the case of letters and entrusted him with it.

He could throw the lot into a nearby stream and let its current grant John and Vaisey the complete power they slavered after. Such power would grant him any number of positions. He would only need wait an hour, return to Marian, and report his errand complete.

Except she would find out. And she would hate him. He himself had begged her for honesty between them.

He had begged The Virgin for her.

The horse surged under his heels.

…

Filthy, tired, and hungry, Guy waited as Father Mayson broke the seal on Marian's letter. The man had glared at Guy when he first arrived, shouting for him to come and meet at the church. Now the man's forehead wrinkled in surprise, his eyes tracking over the page twice more before rolling the page carefully.

"You say that Sir Edward is dying?"

"Yes, Father. He will not be long. If Marian requests any-"

Father Mayson held up a hand. "Leave that to me. You are to return immediately after the delivery. Come." Mayson crooked a finger and Guy followed.

As they passed a brazier, the priest set Marian's letter into the flames, shoving it down with a stick so it blackened quickly. When they reached a door, the priest pushed his large sleeves back and reached for the case of letters. For a moment, Guy was reluctant to let it go. A tiny fear pressed at him that, if Marian so wished, she might have cut him from her life if she used her father's hand and rejected his suit to the priest. A cold trickle seeped under his collar.

Father Mayson stilled and clasped a hand over Guy's arm. "If Edward is as near to the Lord as you say, she is going to need you. Please, do not leave her in her hour of need, and assure her that I am following her instructions."

Guy swallowed thickly and released the case, then ran to his horse and rode as hard as the darkening sky allowed, hoping beyond hope that his next prayers were heard.

…

It was growing late as Guy returned to the room. He did not stop to wash, nor to do more than clean his hands and face before returning.

"Guy!" Marian yelped as he pushed the door open. She leapt up and ran to him, tugging him near the desk. "Did you find Father Mayson?" she asked softly.

"Yes. He would follow your instructions."

She watched him. "Anything else?"

"To hurry back. How is Edward?" Guy glanced at the bed and saw that the man had been propped up.

"He woke briefly. And he… talked. A little." The sad droop was heartbreaking.

"I wish I had been here."

Marian lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen and strained, and her ink-stained hands had left traces on her chin. Guy smoothed a hank of wild hair from her face, knowing that he himself was worse off than she.

She must have realized the state they were in, for she started to fuss.

"No, no," he soothed, and took her hands in his lightly. "You have never been more beautiful."

Queen of heaven.

In a move he did not expect, Marian ducked her head and wrapped her arms around him. She was as strong as any man and braver than most. Bravery took wildness and Guy never wanted that to change. He stroked her back lightly, feeling her wobble and lean into him.

That wildness made her rash, true, but it also led her to care fiercely for her father. Guy recalled how heavily her father would lean on her as they walked.

He brushed her hair away from her ear. "I would ease your burdens, my Marian. Please allow me that."

Her trembling eased, and it was not long before her limbs grew soft in his arms. Guy swept her up and kicked at the door.

"My lord?" said the guard, mouth dribbling crumbs.

"A cot and food. Now."

Once the cot was set out, Guy gently laid Marian in it and sat in a chair next to her, as close as he could. He did not wake when the food was delivered.