queenofmay: (Lady or Tyger - fehrlybrenda)
Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V


Marian paced back and forth in her room. It would be the perfect time. The Sheriff and Guy would both be too busy, with the protesting man's death, and the people fearful of the plague and the barricades, to pay much attention to her. She needed fast food, and medicine. She waited, pacing, trying to think of where to go first, how and when. Who needed to see her, what alibi.

Glad when the door to her chamber opened and she turned, opening her mouth, only to draw back. That was not the face she was expect. This younger, mousy brown hair girl, with her Amy-like up-turned nose, and hopeful apology written all over her expression, timidly stepping in, carrying a washed dress, and closing the door behind her. "Where's Sarah?"

"Don't you know?" The girl said quickly. "She lives in Pitt Street."

Marian felt her heart clench. )
queenofmay: (The Sheriff's Prisoner)
Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V


The guards at the foot of the stairs dropped the blocks before her once again, as each time before it, and it was all she could do to keep her frustration and desperation from coming out in another fashion. Calling out, even as she hated the plaintive note in her voice, which made it a plea more than an order to the man she could not even see from here. "Please, Jailer, Let me see my father."

"Can't be done." The cold voice called back from the darkened interior, twisted and turned around another corner, deeper into the dungeon. The footsteps of his movements, against his cool, annoyed, voice. "I've tol' you."

Marian, I am well. )
queenofmay: (Guy: Unrequited or Requited?)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI


Marian followed after where Guy had gone, into the courtyard of Locksley Manor. Where he was soaked and throwing the armor he could get off himself, as quickly as possible, roughly at the servants who attended him, ordering them to take it inside. She waited to one side, an uncertain expression when he looked to his side and spotted her waiting there and sighed.

You saved my life. I am grateful.  )
queenofmay: (Valiant - wecrash)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI


Marian had been surprised by the early summons to dress and be prepared to accompany The Sheriff to Locksley still. For what, she was informed once dressed and arriving at the gate, would either be the hanging of one of the peasant boys or a trade with Robin for his property. The Black Diamonds, she now knew were used to make the Damascus Steel for Guy's armor.

Things she didn't offer any knowledge about, only annoyance. Being pulled from her bed to attend to his dealing with 'an outlaw,' when her father was still doing poorly and her time was better spent at his bed. It wasn't exactly a lie either, but dissent meant The Sheriff ordered her into the carriage.

It wasn't as though she could ask why Daniel was still at Locksley Manor )
queenofmay: (Family - pumahmistress)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI


Marian wasn't quite sure when she realized she was headed there.

She'd made all the choices, which road, how far, what direction. But she'd been a good third of the way there before it had formed as a solid thought with a conscious decision backing it. The tumble of thoughts between what she was doing, and why, against the confusion and anger and dry, only faintly chilly, night air which whipped her hair back into streams lost in the dark night.

You want your freedom back merged into an outburst had nearly a week beforehand. A worse reaction, not kept in check. A response to a truth, to a thing she had not seen, had to let go of without recompense. Even when it was going to overrun the limits of any reasonable time to and from Locksley Manor, she couldn't find a shred of will to turn her from her destination.

Knighton Hall. Or whatever was left of it.  )
queenofmay: (Merry Men - nimrodel)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI


Coming up with a plan to get herself out of the Castle wasn't actually all that hard. She'd had several those bouncing around in her head since the moment she managed to escape House Arrest the first two times Count Frederick had pushed The Sheriff's hand, after The Sheriff had pushed her on him as entertainment.

Getting out wasn't the problem. )
queenofmay: (Lady: Alone - naybob)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI


Locksley Manor would always evoke too many memories, a heaviness that settled into her chest like a weight even as she tried to push through it. Stabling her own horse in a stall she'd used across half her life, next to horses who had been there a shorter number of years. Places where she had once run and play, as beloved, but disobedient child. Places where she had walked and talked and laughed, once.

Even Thornton, who kept the house as long as she'd known of it, whom she only nodded to, with a quiet thanks, when he let her in the door, not truly answering the deeper question of concern in his eyes than the small question of what brought her here so late. Who had told her she could find the Lord of Locksley in the main room, handing her off to a guard to lead her.

Three years of saying that and it didn't give in the slightest. Three years she heard it, in one fashion of another. Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley, in Robin's stead. As a punishment that might never end. But they weren't all Robin's memories either. There was the room where Guy announced their engagement. There was the staircase where Guy had both dragged her to see his wealth, and stabbed her, in the hopes of killing the Nightwatchman. And there was Guy standing half-dressed.

That was not a memory. )
queenofmay: (Bed - pumahmistress)
It's been over a month since she's seen Milliways.

It made her reluctant to return to any space where she could even see The Door.

It's definitely why she spent the afternoon riding, as fast as she could, as far away as possible, before she returned. To Milliways. To the Door. And, eventually, to the House of Arch. To the room she hasn't seen since the night everything was taken away.

She took a long bath before curling up on her bed, thinking about her return.

There isn't even an option in the through process.
Her father needs her; Robin; their people.

But still she falls asleep there, with her hair still dripping rose water in thick, sticking, curls, on top of her pillows and blankets, for the first time not rigid with the tension of being watched.
queenofmay: (Looking Down)
Earlier there was a quiet settling of skirts and a tea service in the area with the couches and fire place. But now the tea is growing cold, and shiny security badge is still on the tray table, and Marian?

Seems to have fallen asleep with her cheek on her hand against the back of the couch.
queenofmay: (Robin: Talking Normally)
Marian walked through the stalls of cloth, picking up pieces and putting them down. Too many of them reminded her of gowns once had, their remnants now as burned epitaphs to a life that was gone. The others only clear reminders of the life she had slunk into. The grievous insults and mockery she would have to withstand so long as she stayed in Nottingham Castle.

Perturbed was the mildest of terms for what she was, where mild was far from true.

She took regretful delight in snapping at the guard who followed her through the market square.

When the peddler came up behind her, arm widening a cloak with trinkets galore and head too near to her ear, her first thought had been to deck him. Her fingers had balled into the cloth in her hands until she'd glanced up while he started his spiel--the voice and the presence dissolving the most topical layers of her tension as she realized it was Robin. She shook her head in show to his offer, small smile tugging her lips even as she thought he was being too cavalier being so close to her under guard.

Turning slowly from the cloth, Marian looked to her guard with a more-acted-than-true-annoyance now and beyond him where Robin moved to, nodding himself to Much and Little John also cloaked and hooded.

She idled herself with another bolt next to the red one she'd just set down, listening to the riot the men were starting not thirty feet from her. Her peripheral vision stayed with her guard as Much started shouting and then both men, plus the cabbage seller got into a fight over freshness--a fight her guard, as pillar of Nottingham would be bound to break up. The moment the guard turned, coming from two different sides of the walkway, Marian and Robin both moved to walk down it.

"They have you well guarded."

"Why did I choose this?" Marian hissed, watching his face as his hand at her waist urged her further and faster through the market aisle, leaving the loud ruckus behind him. "I can hardly breathe in there."

"Shh." His hand tightened on her side. "What happened?"

"They're expecting a guest today. A rich German Count, and their making me fawn over him, making me dress up and act--"

"A German? Do you think the Sherriff and Prince John are looking for allies abroad?"

They pulled off from the main market aisle taking a side street, as Marian shook her head. "He's not ally. He's a gambler. The sheriff has set up gambling tables in the castle. He's planning to fill his new strong room with the Count's money."

Robin's smile was wide and amused, as they stopped amid laundry sheets hanging. "You see, another good reason to rob him."

"Robin," Marian said imploringly, edged with both annoyance and concern. "Please do not go down there. It's dangerous."

"You know me. I like a challenge" he said, leaning in toward her. The arrogant smirk of amusement shifting softer, as his hand came to rest at the base of her neck, across it and up through her hair. His voice was little better than a pleading whisper. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes. I do. Without me you wouldn't even know there was a strong room."

Robin laughed, cocky and arrogant covering that slip. "England needs me."

"Yes. England needs me." Marian countered, tartly with half a frown, followed by the barest pause as she studied his face. "England needs us."

"And I need you."He leaned in and kissed her deeply and she reached up, curling her hand around the back of his at her throat.

She did not know how long it would be until she'd see him again. Days, possibly a week, time passed so achingly slow inside the high walls.

Marian tried to cast all of it out for the brief seconds her lips were pressed against his, to taste only the sunshine and the trees and the rich earth of Sherwood and all the was Robin, but at the same time she hoarded each sensation, the pressure of his lips, the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips, the scent of the forest and a well needed bath, things to clutch to once she was alone among the wolves again.

Pulling away, she smiled, small and true and false all at once, giving his hand a light squeeze.

Then she let go, angling her face upward and ignoring the clench of her stomach as she called out, "Guard!"

Robin drew a breath in, surprised and annoyed and amused, as he turned off toward the side and left her there once again.
queenofmay: (Lady: Alone - naybob)
Her life in Nottingham Castle became a series of injustices she did her best to withstand without loosing her tongue.

The clothing she had been marched to the castle in were replace on the whim of the Sherriff, to something she could not even deem as proper.

When she wasn't before him, or other people in his pocket, she tugged at the indecorously low cut of it's front constantly. She didn't want to know where he'd made it appear from, or what ghastly person he might have gotten it from.

Marian nearly choked on her words when he demanded she express her gratitude for it.

She would not forget the morning she was gotten out of bed hours before the sun would rise by a servant, told to dress and wait for the Sherriff in the chambers of his office.

She had gone there quickly and then been made to wait outside the room with the guard for nearly an hour before he arrived, still clad in bed robbing. After telling her where to stand he had settled into his desk, shuffling through papers and making notes. Ten minutes had passed before she cleared her throat and asked what he'd needed her for.

He looked up, expression making it clear he had not forgotten her for a second of those minutes, and told her to sing. When she looked angrily bewildered, he'd prompted her with the question that she had of course been courtly trained when she lived here. Then he demanded that she start singing right that moment, threatening to call her father from his bed and brought to the room if she didn't.

The first time he left her there, in the corner, singing for hours.

Heedless of papers or peasant complaints or appointments or the necessity of meals.

There were hardly a set of days strung together that Marian didn't find herself thus morning or afternoon at his whim.

As much as it was a shameful display Marian found the occassion frequently put her in the room for information that could be delivered to Robin and she got it freely, while two or more people simply ignored her as though she were another piece of furniture in the room.

It had taken her two hours to convince herself she would ask the sheriff to send her father a physicans, no matter what it cost her personally. She walked quickly to his chambers only to be directed to the great hall, which had finally been reopened. On stepping into the place, she noted the strange tables and games among the rushes of the Sheriff’s voice explaining something about the house winning.

She'd walked down quickly, pressing herself forward. She could manage it. Even in front of all these people. Her father's health was more important.

"Ah, Lady Marian. There you are. Our guest is due to arrive very shortly and I'd like you to be a friend to him." As she looked bewildered, hands settling on her hips, his disgusting smile continued to curl tighter. "I'd like you to make him feel that his every desire is yours to obey."

It didn't take as much control to only let annoyance touch her expression and tone, instead of angry disgust, after weeks at his mercy. "Every desire?"

"Mmm." He moved toward her, leaning in to her ear as he circled her. "Show him a good time. What do you think Gisborne?"

"Good idea," Guy said, from his position, where he was leaning against one of the game tables, sneer plastered on his face.

Aghast at the whole situation, she shook her head. They could dress her up and order her about, but she wasn't their chattel. "No. I won't."

"Oh, yes, you will, missy," the Sheriff said circling back around her again. "How's your father so to speak?"

Her jaw tightened, angrily, watching his back as he walked from her. "Frail. House arrest doesn't help."

"But very much alive." The Sheriff nearly crowed the word as he settled next to Gisborne.

The threat wasn't even as veiled as normal. Marian shook her head, but she couldn't disagree. How? There had to be a way.

"What if he see's my heart isn't in it?"

"Well, then pretend," Gisborne spoke up, looking away from her, his face a plane of shadows between the dark hair. "Deception comes easy enough to you."

"Now, when the count arrives, I want you to smile for him." He walked closer. Then Guy moved, both coming closer. "Buy yourself a gown that--how shall I say--stimulates the imagination." He held up three coins but as she made a noise of disgusted confusion through a simple breath pressed out he tossed up one coin, which Gisborne caught. "The cheaper the better I think."

He walked off and she looked at Gisborne, still holding the coin, as he turned and threw it down the length of the game table. He looked back at her from dark and hard eyes.

queenofmay: (Robin: Holding Her - three_nails)
Marian forced herself to come out from behind the house where she'd fallen apart. If she didn't move she wouldn't stop (crying, shaking, and the urge to scream was far too great. What was a life without Robin Hood? Why had she rebuked him and rejected him, made fun of his plea for her to run away with him? If she had only know a few hours ago where they would have been now, she would have gone. She would have found a way to rescue her father afterwards.

She pulled the dress on and made herself walk out, forcing down sobs, denying to let people see her this way. Vasey’s spies were everywhere. She brushed a tree out of the way, watching the wind ripple the sheet hanging on the line before her, until suddenly one side of it blew--no, was pulled back and Robin was looking out.


If it was possible her heart ached more seeing his face, and the impossibility of breathing was made worse when he smiled, and somehow she knew she must have been smiling, but all she could do, all she could think of doing was throwing her arms around him and putting all her weight into it. His built, but still thin body against hers, her fingers threading into his hair, and his laughter, mocking and amused, filling her ears as tears welled in her eyes again. Joy. Joy, this time. Vasey had lied. Vasey had been wrong.

Robin--her Robin--was alive.

"Who died?" He laughed, only one arm wrapped around her.

Marian culled her hand tight around the back of his neck, not wanting to pull away yet, especially as her voice trembled. "You did. The sheriff said you were dead."

"The sheriff--" He steered her, half detaching her, only to slide an arm around her so they were head back through the laundry lines the way she had originally come. "--is plotting to kill the king, with his friends the Black Knights. They've already divided England between themselves. You can't go back into the castle!"

"We must get word to the King." Marian said, brushing her hair back from her cheeks as they walked. "Nottingham is not safe."

"It's not just Nottingham," Robin said, pulling her before a doorway of another house. "The Black Knights--they're everywhere, taxing the poor of England to pay for an army of mercenaries."

"Well, then we must stop them," Marian said, steel bounding back into her voice, watching him take a few steps, before she turned back the way they'd come. "I must go back to the castle-"

Her hand was grabbed and she was jerked back. "It's too dangerous!"

"Robin!" Marian said, looking back at his face, having another wave of the same relief she'd felt only minutes ago. She shoved it down this time. There were other things she had to focus on now. She had to, she had to or she might do anything but what was necessary. "Having a spy on the inside, when there's a coup being plotted, is useful-"

"No!" He yelled, his face mottling red. "Just listen to me!"

She loved that, even if he was wrong. It was so easy to take all of it and turn it into snapping. "And my father is in there, Robin. I have to go back."

"Marian," he said it softer, hands coming up, then moving closer to her. "I can't protect you in the caste."

Oh, silly, arrogant, well-meaning, boy. She moves forward, raising her hands to slide them against his cheeks. Her throat closing and her eyes still watering. "Two minutes ago, I thought you were dead and I would have given anything for another chance to be with you-"

His hands raised and mimicked hers, warm against her cheeks, warm from fighting and dirty from the pit, still impossibly alive against the odds, and everything she always respected. "Well, then take that chance, and come with me."

Marian threaded her fingers back into his hair, leaning closer to his face, every particle of the ache in her chest wanting, as she said, "But listen."


She leaned in and kissed him, using the words he had used on her. The softness of his lips, against the roughness of his beard, against her mouth and her fingers. "The little voice saying yes." Her hands fells from his cheeks to the wrists of his hands on the sides of her neck now. "When the king is home. Safe."

Marian turned and walked away, toward the castle quickly, praying he wouldn't call her name and take all the will she had left not to go with him.
queenofmay: (Nightwatchman: Full Costume)
It hadn't taken her hours to find out where Robin had been moved, but to wait for the right gathering of people and time for creating a distraction for his escape. That had taken time. It was purely luck that she'd had been out as the Nightwatchman before Guy arrived at her house the night before. She needed to find a way to hide this clothing already. It was so close to the only clothing she had with her. But she had her mask and had managed to steal a cloak.

She stole into the closest passage, buttoning her vest to pull out her mask. Hair pulled back tight, mask on close, cloak pulled around her. Guy's voice resounded through the walls and the doors near by. Yelling about, at Robin presumably, about the peasants kneeling at his name and about dying only too soon.

Sneaking up the hallway she took the two guards at the doors to the room in surprise, but made no effort to be quiet about it. She wanted their attention. It wasn't like when she broke into Guy's house, silencing them one by one, these's one were hit in spots that would allow them to yell out in pain. And once down she rattled the locked doors, knocking on them, only to climb into the rafters above the door and jump down once Guy had come dashing out of the room.

She took an immense pleasure in grabbing his shoulder and forcing him down on the ground in surprise. That was for burning her house and arresting her father. She glanced into the room, heart hammering, as she spotted all the dozen men on the round room's seats, flanked all by guards, and Robin strung over a pit she couldn't see into. She hesitated, meeting Robin's eyes, and then took off down the hallway, Gisborne shouting to the guards and racing after her. Down corridors and around and outside, then back through sidewalks on the main floor.

Up into a rafter again, because it had worked the first time. Marian glowered at him, not that he saw it through the mask, when he did look up and find her hiding, balanced across one rafter beam. He was stupider even, holding up the dagger he'd slammed into her kidney, the dagger he'd nearly (or had actually for a short time period) killed her with. She flipped down off the bar, caught by the guards, he continued to wave the dagger at her as her heart rate increased, jaw setting with each thrust toward her.

She kicked the knife out of his hand and then kicked him in the stomach, aiming for there and lower, for anything that would keep him down. As he went down, gasping, she did a back flip, using both the guards to turn over. In their shock she managed to kick one in his metal domed head, but the other had to be slammed against the wall. She'd had time just enough to draw a breath before her shoulders were grabbed and a knife was shoved up against her throat. And then Vasey's voice, cold, weasely, snake that he was in her ear.

And she punched backwards slamming his nose, sending him into a confused spin.

She went to run beyond him, but there were two more guards.

The only way was jumping into the courtyard.

There were guards at the gate and then Gisborne was behind her. Now with a sword. Dodging his trusts, she made a run inside when he swung wide, ducking under and coming up with a knee in his gut. And then punching his back, sending him sprawling to one side. The two guards still headed at her, both with swords of their own.

She maneuvered through them, considered the front gate, but couldn't leave. Hesitating long enough that she gave away the one thing she didn't want to. Running through a side door back into the castle walls, even over the boots of the guards following, she could hear Vasey shouting, "He's creating a distraction!"

Up on the top, running along the side part and coming up at the top of a tower guard post, just as Vasey's voice caught her again. "You're wasting your time, my friend. Robin Hood is already dead!"

It wasn't true. It went deeper than a punch. She saw him in her minds eye suspended over that pit again, surrounded by so many, with none of his men , and turned away jumping from the tower into the running passages between them and the outer wall. The moment her feet hit the ground she started running and didn't stop. Through the castle, through the people in the market square, dodging and loosing guards immediately now that it was her aim to be lost, and not to be followed.

She ran through the housing near the market, past all the lines of the wash hanging, and grabbing a dress as she passed it. Stopped at the back of house. Pulling at her mask and cape. It wasn't-it couldn't. Not now. Not after her house and being made to beg Gisborne only to arrested anyway. But Vasey had no reason to boast about it. Especially not with how many times things had happened under his nose before. Not that loud. Not that public if there was a chance.

Robin didn't-Robin couldn't-

Gasps broke free from her throat, and water crowded her vision, even as she tried to strangle them down and deny them coming out. Her hands shook, clenching her mask and mouth cover.

Marian punched the wall of the house, pain spasming through her hand, and turned back, back against it, sliding down to the ground.
queenofmay: (Lady: Alone - naybob)
There's going to be a display in the courtyard near the market place.

She heard two guards talking about it while walking the corridor between her rooms and the chapel. (She hadn't felt the need to pray. No, the urge for space was simply that great. The need to move, to walk, to figure out her situation beyond being locked into one room where she would be under her father scrutiny and warning.) When another set of guards came out leading children toward the square she followed them-- until she found find herself behind crossed pole arms when she'd tried to walk out and stand in the crowd to watch.

Not even orders about staying in Nottingham since their arrest last night, but orders about not leaving the Castle proper.

The Sheriff swaggered in the crowd talking about the women tied to the stake in the center of the square. A guard has taken pity on the children for stealing bread, and let their mother take their punishment. He claimed they had to loose a hand. The mother whined and sobbed from her position while the children were locked down at the wrist, and the Sherriff read.

"I, Vasey, Sheriff of Nottingham here pronounce sentence of little tiny Billy and little Tiny Jane blah-de-blah-de-blah-chop off their hands!"

The mother screamed and Marian watched, lip pursed, her whole body flooding with relief when the children's manacles were suddenly shot free by two arrows. The Sheriff antagonized him, and Robin shot the executioners axe away, and then the ropes binding the mother. He screamed for them to run, but she screamed they couldn't. Marian watched with growing confusion, as she called out those words, whispering, "No, Robin. Don't go down."

She couldn't figure how, but something....something was wrong.

He scaled down a house, hitting guards out of his way, tossing a knife to the mother telling her to pick the locks.

She caught it, but didn't move.

Then Guy yelled, "Now!"

Marian's blood ran cold, fists clenching at her side as she stepped closer to the crossed pole arms, only to be pressed back.

Guards in peasants robes came out of everywhere at him, surrounding him in only seconds. She half-shook her head, unable to feel surprised, unable to turn away, unable to give any reaction she actually felt. Robin's sword fell with a clatter before Guy and the mother. Who wasn't a mother, but an actress wearing a skin mask and a wig; both removed to betray strikingly pale skin and long curling blonde hair.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she stood there the whole time they did.

Until the guards had to move her when Robin was walked into the castle in chains.
queenofmay: (Bedroom on bed)
The night seemed never to end.

At first Marian had avoided leaving the Bar proper. She'd settled into a corner and started a book, only to find herself done with it shortly after. More time passed at a crawl and bored with staring at the wall, the floor or the strange metal shoot that remade things, she went down to Security and read the updates and logs for the time she'd missed.

When she woke up, head laying on her crossed arms, she decided she couldn't put off going to Arch.

She drug her feet, but all too soon the picture of The Dogs Playing Poker was before her, and then the main foyer and the picture that lead to her room. The great green forest which she raised her fingers to touch, her stomach knotting violently inside of her, as she went through into her room. She looked around the sitting room, blinking as her eyes began to burn again. Her arms crossed. Then uncrossed.

Tears spilled down her cheeks untouched this time as her grey eyes wandered across the room.

They were just things she told herself. Just things.

She pulled her clothes off, leaving them in her wake on the floor. The blue jerkin and the yellow undershirt. The bulky thick skirt and the pants that had been hidden by it. Her mask. Her boots. The hidden weapons and their holders. Her under things. She tried to wipe her face with the clothing as she went, but it seemed to make only a bigger mess and she seemed unable to make her hand stop shaking long enough to do it properly.

Her bed was fallen upon, but only after she realized it was the wrong shape and made of the wrong wood and a harrowing sound had broken free from her lips. She pulled the blankets close around her, sobbing sound filling the bedroom and echoing back to her, as i f from some creature, elsewhere.

She cried for herself, giving it nobler reasons. Even as they were pale excuses as truths.

Because she didn't know if the house was gone or if it was only half scorched. Because she didn't know if anyone had set the horses free of their stalls. Because peasants would have to put the fire out, in the middle of the night, using water better saved for other things. Because she didn't know if the houses and business and market and church of Knighton had been spared or if the loss was greater than simply their own. Because she didn't know if there would be anything left to come home to, and likelihood was slim.

Because it was sheer stupidity that she had punched Guy at the altar, before a public of own fearful his peers, and considered herself to have gotten away with it.

Because she deserved it.

Because it was her fault.

Because they were her (their) things.

The last remnants of her mother. And of her childhood. The entire life of the Nightwatchman. Every pretty bauble. Every collected weapon. All the finery of the place settings, gifted to them when she was a little girl and her father was still sheriff. The wardrobes and the bedding. The wooden main floor furniture.

This was followed by punching her head board. Again and again and again and again. Until the feeling of her knuckles connecting with the wood couldn't be felt. Only seen. Before covering her mouth so that she didn't scream. Covering it until she was breathing more calmly, staring only at a small section of pattern on her comforter, and focused on the need to beat something into the ground or hit it until it broke. Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow when her legs wouldn't tremble to stand.


Because she'd still have a tomorrow. And it was more than most people chastised in Nottingham had.

Marian spent most of the night accounting for her entire material and emotional life.

And somewhere in among it, exhaustion forced her into the black and on to sleep.
queenofmay: (Holding It In - naybob)
[From Here]

After her father had fallen asleep sitting up (for the second time), Marian spent the better part of an hour convincing a guard to let her leave to use a privy. A million excuses and reasoning’s that fell from her lips, forgotten as soon as they were said, until he conceded to her whim. When she'd opened the door to the privy, she'd found something better than an empty room. There was Milliways on the other side.

She slid in, keeping the view out, and closed the door behind her, body leaning against it's solidness. The peripheral glance showed that nothing looked like it should. Which meant everything was normal at the end of the universe.

Marian left her head fall back against the door, eyes looking upward, body resolutely still, and finally let out a breath that shook like the leaves in early winter.
queenofmay: (Family - pumahmistress)
After a long night of waiting Marian and her fathered were summoned before the Sherriff.

When they were lead in by the guards he was playing with a bird cage full of birds, looking away from them. But he started as neither of them was speaking. It'd even been a few hours since they'd spoken to each other more than a handful of words. How to handle the loss of their house and everything else, anything that meant anything.

"Ah, the sanctimonious old fart." He looked over finally, smile cruelly curling. "And her father."

He walked toward them, chuckling under his breath. "I gather you've been careless with your wood fire."

"You know full well that is not the case," Marian snapped.

He was unruffled, but sat on the middle area of a perch where he hawk rested. "Tell me, who's side are you on: mine or King Richards? The real world or the old world?"

There was pause, where Marian simply glowered at the manipulation, before her father replied, "Yours."

The sheriff laughed picking up a skull on the same seated area. While speaking he pulled a tooth loose from it. "Come alone. We both know that’s not true. Don't we?"

"I believe in justice." Her father started, and she saw the anger fill the sheriff's face even as she felt a surge of pride at his words. "I believe in the rights of the free man."

"Who cares what you believe in? Hmm?" The Sherriff asked, crossing his personal space and standing right before him, nearly face to face. "I have a plan and I will not tolerate dissent." He emphasized it by shoving the tooth into the preexisting gap in his upper row of teeth. He gave a dismissive laugh, stepping back from them. "So. You are under house arrest. Here. In the castle. Until I can find some use for you."

What was left of Marian feeling, seized cold. "My lord Sherriff, I must protest--"

"You must!" He seethed, turning back to her in the doorway.

But Marian rolled on. If she could just-- "My father is unwell. He must be allowed t--"

"One more word out of you, missy," The Sherriff broke in. "And your father will never be unwell again!"

He turned away from them at the same moment Gisborne arrived. They spoke about another person arriving as Marian had moved her gaze to Guy. She had to bite back the bile that filled her as unbidden the images of him setting fire to the draperies and the house came flooding through her mind. To be set aside. To be shoved aside. To be locked away.

For any moment but this one.

"Guy!" She called out, the desperation in her thoughts far more important than her pride or feelings.
queenofmay: (Robin: Talking Normally)
The night's deliveries to Merton hadn't taken as long as she expected.

Her horse stabled, she climbed the house outside her bedroom window and lighted in as silently as possible. Her father would not be surprised to have her gone out as the Nightwatchman, but she did not tell him when she went more often than she did. It gave him less to worry about, and the less he was worried the less she had to spend worrying about him, and his possibly reactions or actions, in turn.

Walking across the room, the pale light from down stairs cast through open door and a large shadow in it. Knowing the door had been closed when she left and her father wouldn't stand in the shadows, Marian's lips quirked into a smile even ash she didn't stop. She walked toward her bed, pulling back her hood, and then pulled off her mask, tugging the down the cover over her cheeks and mouth.

Pulling her hair free, she announced, "And that's all I'm taking off until you go away," before walking on to light the candles on the mantle above the fireplace.

It was followed by a quick laugh and slow swaggering steps forward into her bedroom. "You're a spoil-sport, Marian." He stepped up behind her and she wonder what would come next, knowing Robin it could be anything. Especially given the last few weeks. But it was followed with a more neutral, business like tone. "What do you make of this?"

She looked up, managing to catch the object through at her in mid air. Her fingers tensed, but her palm stayed half-open, cradling the ring that she longed to crush under her heel already. "The sheriff’s insignia?" Marian toyed with it, looping the tip of her thumb inside the band and she looked up expectantly. That could not be all. He wasn't that daft.

"We took it off a women on her way to Nottingham today. And she had men." Her eyes followed him, as she turned to light other candles in the room, wondering where this would end after the details. It wouldn't be beyond him to ask, or beyond him to not recognize the reminents were burned beyond use. She looked instead at the stick she was lighting with or the ring in her hand. "They were well trained. It was like a military unit."

His movement cast a shadow on the wall when he made an exaggerate arm movement. "And she's been granted the sheriff’s insignia."

Marian, still looking at the ring, began to frown. "And what does that mean?"

"I don't know," he said, more quietly, more confidingly as Marian blew out the stick and set it down. "I was hoping you or your father might know."

Marian resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. Sweet though he could be sometimes she wondered if he considered the ramifications of the choice she'd made. She kept her voice soft, walking back toward him. "I get the feeling we're not too welcome in corridors of power."

"Good." She looked up at him, a reluctance there that had nothing to do with him. "Come and join my gang."

From one impossibility to the next. Marian looked down once, face only half blanked, as the weight settled again from both directions. The forced air between her lips made a quiet almost-laugh. She turned away, saying, "In your dreams."

"Wait."' Robin said, taking her arm and pulling her back, pulling her so that she was only inches from him again. "Listen."

He leaned in, one hand caressing her check and ear, and kissed her. Nothing like the kiss on horseback or a number of the ones between then and now. Yet somehow its soft and sweet nature, nearly chaste, impatient nature, still caused her heart to rush at the same time as it caused it to sink. "Did you hear it?"


"That kiss spoke volumes," he said, whispering now, leaving his hand tangled in her hair.

"Did it?" Marian asked, watching his face. "And what did it say?"

He pulled her in, closer this time, into his arms until she was resting against him. Where she went gladly, feeling like some part of her that couldn't relaxed even without her admission to the action. Her eyes closed and she let out a quiet breath, but as he spoke into her hair she watched the ground with some sadness. "It said Marian wants to come and join your gang."

"Really?" She gave a small laugh against his shoulder, eyes focused with intensity on the wall far from them. And the pain somewhere, without a location, inside her at the request. "That's not what I heard. What I heard was a little voice saying--" Marian pulled back from him, away from his arms, the warmth and shelter and rest they offered. Away from them she could look into his eyes, squarely and still keep her expression between stern and mocking. "--abandon your home, abandon your father, give up any hope of a normal life, and take up arms with a man who thinks resistance is about showing off with a bow."

He pulled back stung, and while she regretted hurting him, she could not regret her words.

Or their truth.

"That's not fair."

"And to do what?" Marian asked, letting him take more steps back, to move in more space, because it was easier for both of them. "To wait for a king who, lets face it, may or may not make it home."

He started laughing. That--and his insufferably wide grin suddenly--was far more infuriating than any tart response she had expected to her dressing down. Annoyed, she blurted, "What?"

"So you have been thinking about it then."

Marian blinked, and looked down, her mouth tugging into a rueful grin.

From the window suddenly came the sound of thudding hooves and a horse whining, and Robin dashed to the window first, Marian close behind him. He leaned inward where she looked from a few feet back heart icing over as she spotted in the flickering light of a handful of torches Gisborne leaping off his horse and the guards who surrounded him.


queenofmay: (Default)

May 2014

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