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Feb. 20th, 2008 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenofmayMid-morning passed.
Then late morning and midday and early afternoon.
Sleep didn't always stay, but then neither did consciousness. Her mind wandered, half awake, half asleep, blearily between realms and lines, thinking as she was dreaming, dreaming as she was seeing. Faces blurred together. She dreamed of darkness and bright light. There were snippet feelings of violent anger and weighted melancholy.
The sky was still blue each time she opened her eyes and her bedroom still empty.
Her father had come and gone a few time, Marian could tell.
There was a goblet of water left near her and the position of the door had changed and blanket had been added. It made her feel each time as if he'd just left from watching over her.
She was his world, she knew that. Even if the King came first, she knew it tore him up inside. She's knew that, because he was her world.
Their world might have broken (and be breaking) but it was still theirs.
Marian woke up anytime she tried to turn over in her sleep.
The first half of the movement sending shooting pain into her side and leg.
Then she would lay, quietly, counting her breaths or her heart beat, watching the cloud passing across the blue sky out her window.
She'd dreamed of a bluer sky. A sky of blue that defied even the word blue. It seemed impossible to have a word for blue beyond blue, but blue was too small and too limiting and not bright enough.
Somewhere beneath that bluer than blue sky she remembered laughing.
Remembering this, struggling to see more of it than a flicker, she usually slipped back into sleep, hand over her stitches, with a smile.
It was somewhere in the afternoon when Marian couldn't fall asleep again.
She listened to her father move around downstairs.
She shifted and closed her eyes and thought wishfully about sleep, but sleep evaded her.
She moved pain-staking slow but had to get rid of the two blankets on her. Didn't they know it was summer?
In the end, positioned at an odd, amazingly unpainful, angle involving being slightly twisted at her waist and propped by her elbow, she stared at the opening to the second room of her two. Inside there was the naked manikin that usually bore her Nightwatchman costume. It was a stark thing to picture, because she wasn't picturing it much at all.
Tomorrow morning Robin would save her.
Or she would marry Sir Guy.
Marian hadn't considered it being that simple, that cut and dry. Not even when Robin had been yelling at her before this. Or when she needed to steal Guy's silver to put them on equal footing. Not when she struggled at being chained or was told she was free.
It was that simple. She would be married or not married. It was up to her beyond that point to decide what became of her.
Being married wouldn't mean her life would end. Only that it might change much more than she'd ever planned for it.
Like her mother dying.
Like Robin leaving for war.
She wanted one outcome more than other (wanted it more than even a thought could contain) but they didn't usually get what they wanted. She was laying in a bed, having narrowly avoided death. That was a miracle in itself. She might get married tomorrow but she would live beyond today. (Many wouldn't. Hadn't.)
Deep inside of her, it didn't scare her anymore. She felt that right here, right in the middle of this mess, was where she was supposed to be. That it was both important and that she didn't have to be afraid anymore.
That whatever was going to happen tomorrow was what was meant to happen.
Which meant one thing.
Marian decided, as she ambled about slowly pealing off her Nightwatchman clothes and pulling on a loose white gown, that it was time to confront the source of her biggest doubt in reference to her wedding.
It was time to ask Guy if he had gone to the Holy Land to kill the King.
Then late morning and midday and early afternoon.
Sleep didn't always stay, but then neither did consciousness. Her mind wandered, half awake, half asleep, blearily between realms and lines, thinking as she was dreaming, dreaming as she was seeing. Faces blurred together. She dreamed of darkness and bright light. There were snippet feelings of violent anger and weighted melancholy.
The sky was still blue each time she opened her eyes and her bedroom still empty.
Her father had come and gone a few time, Marian could tell.
There was a goblet of water left near her and the position of the door had changed and blanket had been added. It made her feel each time as if he'd just left from watching over her.
She was his world, she knew that. Even if the King came first, she knew it tore him up inside. She's knew that, because he was her world.
Their world might have broken (and be breaking) but it was still theirs.
Marian woke up anytime she tried to turn over in her sleep.
The first half of the movement sending shooting pain into her side and leg.
Then she would lay, quietly, counting her breaths or her heart beat, watching the cloud passing across the blue sky out her window.
She'd dreamed of a bluer sky. A sky of blue that defied even the word blue. It seemed impossible to have a word for blue beyond blue, but blue was too small and too limiting and not bright enough.
Somewhere beneath that bluer than blue sky she remembered laughing.
Remembering this, struggling to see more of it than a flicker, she usually slipped back into sleep, hand over her stitches, with a smile.
It was somewhere in the afternoon when Marian couldn't fall asleep again.
She listened to her father move around downstairs.
She shifted and closed her eyes and thought wishfully about sleep, but sleep evaded her.
She moved pain-staking slow but had to get rid of the two blankets on her. Didn't they know it was summer?
In the end, positioned at an odd, amazingly unpainful, angle involving being slightly twisted at her waist and propped by her elbow, she stared at the opening to the second room of her two. Inside there was the naked manikin that usually bore her Nightwatchman costume. It was a stark thing to picture, because she wasn't picturing it much at all.
Tomorrow morning Robin would save her.
Or she would marry Sir Guy.
Marian hadn't considered it being that simple, that cut and dry. Not even when Robin had been yelling at her before this. Or when she needed to steal Guy's silver to put them on equal footing. Not when she struggled at being chained or was told she was free.
It was that simple. She would be married or not married. It was up to her beyond that point to decide what became of her.
Being married wouldn't mean her life would end. Only that it might change much more than she'd ever planned for it.
Like her mother dying.
Like Robin leaving for war.
Like the day she entered Milliways.
She wanted one outcome more than other (wanted it more than even a thought could contain) but they didn't usually get what they wanted. She was laying in a bed, having narrowly avoided death. That was a miracle in itself. She might get married tomorrow but she would live beyond today. (Many wouldn't. Hadn't.)
Deep inside of her, it didn't scare her anymore. She felt that right here, right in the middle of this mess, was where she was supposed to be. That it was both important and that she didn't have to be afraid anymore.
That whatever was going to happen tomorrow was what was meant to happen.
Which meant one thing.
Marian decided, as she ambled about slowly pealing off her Nightwatchman clothes and pulling on a loose white gown, that it was time to confront the source of her biggest doubt in reference to her wedding.
It was time to ask Guy if he had gone to the Holy Land to kill the King.