"Get off me!"

Lying on a hard wooden bench within his damp dungeon cell, Robin snapped open his eyes. That was Marian's voice, raised in angry protest, ordering some villain to unhand her!

In no time at all, Robin was on his feet, glaring through the bars of his cell door, longing to rush to Marian's defense. But he didn't stand there for long, for the jailor had shortly unlocked his door, shoving Marian inside.

The joy at seeing one another again caused the young couple to temporarily forget everything else, including the sound of their cell door slamming shut, locking them inside.

Robin broke their kiss to ask, "Are you alright?"

Her pale, strained face worried him, but her clothing of far too tight trousers, topped by one of his shirts and vests which did little to disguise her condition, worried him even more.

"Are you?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before pressing her lips to his again.

Pouring herself into her kiss out of need for him, she clung to him tightly, relieved that he still lived.

Being in his arms again helped her forget her recent humiliation. The guards had dragged her to the king, whose rage at discovering the "lovely Miriam" had shot an arrow into his bedchamber made him livid, and he unleashed his revenge, and his lust, by demanding she be strip searched in front of him. Not about to stand by and allow it to happen, Marian tried reaching for a dagger she had stashed in her boot, but her pregnant belly had hindered her, and she couldn't bend down to retrieve it. She'd been forced to endure the king ogling her body, while Isabella looked on as well, mockingly laughing at the scars her brother Guy had marked on her, as well as her round, swollen belly and heavy breasts. And of course, the king had discovered the dagger, which only served to seal her doom.

"What are you doing here, Marian?" Robin asked, torn between love and worry. "Don't tell me you tried to rescue me!"

He held her in his arms, not wanting to let her go, even as an argument appeared to be looming.

"And why shouldn't I? I couldn't let the king cut off your hand, or worse yet, hang you!"

"Tell me you didn't act alone. Tell me, at the very least, you brought John along."

"Since when has Little John ever been 'the least,' Robin? And you know perfectly well I do better, on my own."

"So I can assume being captured, and locked in a cell with me, was part of your plan? Bad idea."

"You know very well it wasn't! I would have succeeded, if it hadn't been for..."

Her voice caught in her throat, and she didn't want to say anything more. Fighting back tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, she began to doubt herself for hating the condition of her body, which rendered her helpless as an old woman, even while continuing to love the child growing within her.

Hating to see her cry, Robin dropped his anger and frustration and pulled her gently against his hard chest, lightly stroking her hair and almost rocking her as he swayed slightly on his feet.

"Shh," he soothed. "It's alright. I did not mean what I said. You were right to want to rescue me, Marian, and I'm a lout for having been ungrateful."

"A lout?" She almost smiled. "I've never heard you called that before. But you were right. I should have asked your men to help me, especially now, that I can't even run away. What are we going to do now? I hope you have half a plan, at least."

But he didn't. Not yet. And now that she was here, locked up with him, with her precious life in as much danger as his own, he knew he needed to pray, and to think, of a way out.