Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in my stories.

A/N: Just a reminder, this is a collection of unrelated Guy/Marian shorts. So, this is not a continuation of the last story, nor will any other posting be a continuation of the previous one unless otherwise noted.

Blurb: AU. Marian has gone through with her wedding to Guy. This is the morning after the big night. Teen rating.

Marion awoke in the bedchamber she had imagined coming to as a new bride since she was a girl. The only thing that differed from her girlhood dreams was the man she was now forever bound to.

A warm hand snaked its way around to cup her breast through the thin material of her shift, which she had plead with him not to remove. Though Marian had never been the type to worry overmuch about modesty, she knew she couldn't let him discover the wound on her side. How long would she be able to hide it? Guy was her husband now. It was his right to look at her body, if he wished. Even when the wound was healed, she would always bear a scar. It was only a matter of time. He would find out eventually...and then what would become of her?

Marian squirmed under his touch, needing to do something, anything to relieve herself from the untenable situation in which she had found herself. What could she do? If she rose to dress herself, Guy would probably let her, but how much time was she truly buying herself? A day? A week? The thought of spending a week, or even a single day, living with this gnawing dread was...well, unthinkable.

Guy sighed sleepily and rolled onto his back, freeing his nervous bride from his embrace. Marian pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing at the dual discomfort from her wound and from her nether-regions. Despite her discomfort, she couldn't place any blame on her new husband. He had been surprisingly gentle and patient, allowing her to become accustomed to each new liberty he took with her body before taking another. She might have been able to enjoy his attentions if she hadn't been constantly afraid of being found out.

A new wave of frustration washed over her. Not only had she been forced to marry a cruel man she couldn't allow herself to love, she was unable to enjoy the one comfort he could offer her. Yes, Marian had come to the marriage bed a maiden, but she was also a woman with needs like any other. There was no denying she had married an attractive man. She had considered using their inevitable congress as a way to gain a small victory over Guy. She was determined to take more pleasure from his body than he did from hers, to gain the upper hand. She wouldn't allow herself to be used by him, but would use him instead. The wound, however, had completely obliterated the possibility of seeing this plan to fruition.

She looked down at her husband's sleeping form. He wasn't her first choice, but there was no denying that he was a well-formed man. She had been pleasantly surprised, upon her wedding night, to discover the scintillating beauty of Guy's bare torso and arms. Now she studied the planes of his chest and abdomen hungrily, once again wishing that he hadn't stabbed her. She could be ravaging him right now, but, instead, she sat huddled on the opposite side of the bed, her body sore and tired from the recent blood loss and fever.

Releasing a frustrated groan, she pounded her fist against his sculpted chest, determined to put an end to this limbo once and for all. If she told Guy her secret, she was risking her life, but what good was a life lived in fear? Better to face the music now and have it done with, for better or for worse.

Guy woke with a start as Marian's fist connected with his chest. His first instinct was to reach for his sword, only to discover that he had neglected to put it in its usual place beside him on the bed. In its place sat an irate, though impossibly lovely, Marian.

Before Guy could form a coherent thought, Marian spoke.

"Guy, I have a confession to make to you. Well, actually I have something to show you."

With that, she grasped the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head, forcing herself to swallow the whimper of discomfort the movement caused. The cool morning air caressed her body, instantly hardening her nipples.

Guy was briefly too enthralled by the sight of his wife's bare bosom to notice her wound, but, when he did, he was horrified.

"Dear God! Marian, tell me I didn't do that!"

"You did," she answered quietly. "I very nearly died that night. I am the Nightwatchman, as you may well have surmised. Rather than wait in torment for you to find out, I have chosen to reveal all, to trust you with my secret. Can I trust you, Guy? You won't give me away to the sheriff..."

"I shudder to think of what I almost did...what I did do...to you," Guy interrupted, shakily. Too overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of the ugly slash marring his love's beautiful, delicate body to speak, Guy crawled over to her and rested his head dejectedly in her lap, his hands moving around to stroke the soft skin of her back.

Marian sat, stunned, for several moments before reaching down to gently stroke his hair. This was a far cry from the explosive reaction she had expected from Guy. His sudden vulnerability and surprising lack of anger astonished her greatly. She hardy knew the man with whom she now shared a bed.

The light tough of her fingers on his hair was sufficient to calm Guy into so semblance of sanity. Without moving from his place in her lap, he began, once again, to speak.

"I will forgive your error if you will forgive mine. If I had lost you, and by my own hand, at that...I could not have..."

"It is forgiven," Marian breathed, immeasurably relieved that the truth was out in the open. There was no more need to hide.