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Episode 1x13 "A Clue: No"
Apr. 12th, 2008 08:36 pmHer heart had broken wide open as she ran out of the church doorway.
The scent of Sherwood leaves and the breath of lilies rolling across her in waves of golden sun light.
She looked left and right, uncertain where to go first. To Much in the lake water or her father in the castle. And Robin, she needed to find Robin so she could--
Her eyes spotted him, even as her hands grabbed her skirts and her feet started running in the direction of the horse and rider coming fast on the Locksley Church.
"Do you take this man, and this horse, as your route out of here?"
There were too many stalls and people, too many preparations for feast and festival. But Marian laughed, stopping, to look between them, to see him, hear him. "I do!" she called out, picking her skirts back up to make her way around the next grouping of tables and banners and flocking people.
Marian on foot and Robin on horse back reached each other, their eyes warm, as Much came crawling out of the pond, covered in mosses and soaked to the skin. "Master! The King! It's not the King. He's an imposter."
"A trap, I knew it." Robin said, backing the horse up. "Who's there?"
"Everyone," Much panted. "The gang!"
"Robin, my father--" Marian started, guilt touch her as she looked at Much's dishelmed state, something she had as much blame in at this moment as Guy did. Reaching the horses side enough to be able to look right up at him, she couldn't help thinking he'd never looked more golden and dirty and lovely. Even as her worry moved her tongue. "He leads the rebellion."
His arm went down to her and with his help she boosted herself up into the saddle behind him. Robin took off at a gallop even as she was situating herself. Bothersome and in her way, as she settled down, one arm wrapping around his chest, her other hand detangled her back veil with its coronet of white flowers from her hair and threw it into the air, falling forgotten behind her without so much as a backwards glance.
Robin's hand wrapped around hers, as she leaned her cheek against his back. The beat of hooves studded through her skin, the sun scorched against her skin, and all she felt was how her heart leapt when he squeezed her hand and then stilled, because she had. Marian felt herself smile, pressing her cheek against his back as her arm tightened minutely.
Soon, soon they would be there, and she knew the knock of her heart, matching the beat of the hooves, was a prayer. For her father, for the fact he must be still alive and well. The fear was a current of cold even in the windy, sun streaked ride, that he might be taken from her faster than she'd prepared for, would have been willing to consider.
But, here and now, in the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the trees, in the whisper of the wind and the tall grasses they flashed through, with the horse beneath her and Robin within the circle of an arm, she did not regret her choice.
(And she knew she would not, even if.)
They slowed at the castle, Marian looking between across to Much and over Robin's shoulder at the building before them.
"We can't be seen together," Robin said, half looking over his shoulder, as her grip loosened. There was a reluctance in the first moment of release, but the thought of her father made it easier to pull her arms back to slack beside her own body
Much piped up, "We'd never get in anyway."
"I'll try the east gate," Marian said, sliding off Robin's horse.
"We'll try the west," Robin said with a nod, and they turned their horses that way, as Marian bunched up her wedding dress skirts and headed the opposite way.
She was running, skirts bunched up decorously, loose dark coal locks flying around her face, preparing whatever lie she would need to get through the gate from something about her wedding to needing to see her father for some girlish purpose. Knowing that she would do something, anything that would get her inside, get her to her father, even if it meant knocking out a guard.
She'd already punched Guy today. It couldn't be much worse to knock out someone who was much further down in rank.
"Marian!"
She stopped, looking over her shoulder in confusion first, until she saw Robin riding back toward her quickly. She didn't know why exactly, some combination of the high energy and the sun, caused her face to smile brightly as she started running back toward him. It seemed more important than everything else suddenly. More important than her next breath.
It was, she knew, when his hand, warm from the ride and smelling of leather, rested on her neck, threading into her hair at the back of her head and he leaned down toward her, and she lifted on her toes, meeting his lips in the middle. A kiss worthy of punching someone who held her life. A kiss worthy of waiting a few more minutes before finding her father. Kiss worthy of the statement that the two of them, after putting the entire world before them, had allowed themselves to have this first.
Even with the fondly impish grin he had pulling way.
There were no words. They didn't need them. They'd had them yesterday and the day before yesterday. This was more than words.
She stood there, holding her skirts, as she watched his horse turn and go the way Much's had, giddiness filling her. She turned, lips incapable of feigning from the smile, and started back running in the direction of the East gate.
She was stalled at the gate by guards on message from the King not to let anyone in while the evidence was being given.
It took time and too much information. The King had deposed the Sherriff and the Lords were giving evidence. She did not know how it was being twisted but being told it plainly, like she should simply accept it and go home was not good enough.
By the time she managed to get inside, after faking a fainting spell which, as per normal, left a male guard having no idea what to do with a women but bringing in her, give her water, and leave her in the care of other women. The women were much easier to dispatch quickly.
The shouting from the Great Hall was echoing down the hallways before she reached it. The sounds of feet running down other corridors announced other guards were coming, too. The Sheriff was saying something, and Robin shouted to Much as she ran into the room. Oh, please don't let her be too late.
Her father was on the lower level, near the door she entered, and she stepped up to him, slipping an arm into his. Her father was alive. (But later she would learn of the many who were not.) His expression was confused and worried, but it flitted to her, bore these emotions, and went back, as hers did, to Robin on the high stairs shooting an arrow. Much ran from the Sheriff and the Sheriff, caught by one of Robin's arrows in the show, flew, upside-down, toward the ceiling suddenly.
"Everybody still, if you please," Robin's voice called out, through the first rumble of snickering laughter. "I think we can safely say an audience with the king has been suspended."
Her father was smiling, she could tell by the way he moved even though she didn't look to him. No, her eyes never looked away from Robin and she'd started smiling from the moment he'd started talking. The sheriff struggled, making much noise, the gang was all around, her father was alive, and Robin (her Robin) was grand standing in normal fashion
"Come on, lads, lets go home." He called it out from the top of the stairs, and threw a wink her way which cause her to grin wider.
The next few days or weeks might not be easy, but she could tell, already, that they would be worth it.
The scent of Sherwood leaves and the breath of lilies rolling across her in waves of golden sun light.
She looked left and right, uncertain where to go first. To Much in the lake water or her father in the castle. And Robin, she needed to find Robin so she could--
Her eyes spotted him, even as her hands grabbed her skirts and her feet started running in the direction of the horse and rider coming fast on the Locksley Church.
"Do you take this man, and this horse, as your route out of here?"
There were too many stalls and people, too many preparations for feast and festival. But Marian laughed, stopping, to look between them, to see him, hear him. "I do!" she called out, picking her skirts back up to make her way around the next grouping of tables and banners and flocking people.
Marian on foot and Robin on horse back reached each other, their eyes warm, as Much came crawling out of the pond, covered in mosses and soaked to the skin. "Master! The King! It's not the King. He's an imposter."
"A trap, I knew it." Robin said, backing the horse up. "Who's there?"
"Everyone," Much panted. "The gang!"
"Robin, my father--" Marian started, guilt touch her as she looked at Much's dishelmed state, something she had as much blame in at this moment as Guy did. Reaching the horses side enough to be able to look right up at him, she couldn't help thinking he'd never looked more golden and dirty and lovely. Even as her worry moved her tongue. "He leads the rebellion."
His arm went down to her and with his help she boosted herself up into the saddle behind him. Robin took off at a gallop even as she was situating herself. Bothersome and in her way, as she settled down, one arm wrapping around his chest, her other hand detangled her back veil with its coronet of white flowers from her hair and threw it into the air, falling forgotten behind her without so much as a backwards glance.
Robin's hand wrapped around hers, as she leaned her cheek against his back. The beat of hooves studded through her skin, the sun scorched against her skin, and all she felt was how her heart leapt when he squeezed her hand and then stilled, because she had. Marian felt herself smile, pressing her cheek against his back as her arm tightened minutely.
Soon, soon they would be there, and she knew the knock of her heart, matching the beat of the hooves, was a prayer. For her father, for the fact he must be still alive and well. The fear was a current of cold even in the windy, sun streaked ride, that he might be taken from her faster than she'd prepared for, would have been willing to consider.
But, here and now, in the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the trees, in the whisper of the wind and the tall grasses they flashed through, with the horse beneath her and Robin within the circle of an arm, she did not regret her choice.
(And she knew she would not, even if.)
They slowed at the castle, Marian looking between across to Much and over Robin's shoulder at the building before them.
"We can't be seen together," Robin said, half looking over his shoulder, as her grip loosened. There was a reluctance in the first moment of release, but the thought of her father made it easier to pull her arms back to slack beside her own body
Much piped up, "We'd never get in anyway."
"I'll try the east gate," Marian said, sliding off Robin's horse.
"We'll try the west," Robin said with a nod, and they turned their horses that way, as Marian bunched up her wedding dress skirts and headed the opposite way.
She was running, skirts bunched up decorously, loose dark coal locks flying around her face, preparing whatever lie she would need to get through the gate from something about her wedding to needing to see her father for some girlish purpose. Knowing that she would do something, anything that would get her inside, get her to her father, even if it meant knocking out a guard.
She'd already punched Guy today. It couldn't be much worse to knock out someone who was much further down in rank.
"Marian!"
She stopped, looking over her shoulder in confusion first, until she saw Robin riding back toward her quickly. She didn't know why exactly, some combination of the high energy and the sun, caused her face to smile brightly as she started running back toward him. It seemed more important than everything else suddenly. More important than her next breath.
It was, she knew, when his hand, warm from the ride and smelling of leather, rested on her neck, threading into her hair at the back of her head and he leaned down toward her, and she lifted on her toes, meeting his lips in the middle. A kiss worthy of punching someone who held her life. A kiss worthy of waiting a few more minutes before finding her father. Kiss worthy of the statement that the two of them, after putting the entire world before them, had allowed themselves to have this first.
Even with the fondly impish grin he had pulling way.
There were no words. They didn't need them. They'd had them yesterday and the day before yesterday. This was more than words.
She stood there, holding her skirts, as she watched his horse turn and go the way Much's had, giddiness filling her. She turned, lips incapable of feigning from the smile, and started back running in the direction of the East gate.
She was stalled at the gate by guards on message from the King not to let anyone in while the evidence was being given.
It took time and too much information. The King had deposed the Sherriff and the Lords were giving evidence. She did not know how it was being twisted but being told it plainly, like she should simply accept it and go home was not good enough.
By the time she managed to get inside, after faking a fainting spell which, as per normal, left a male guard having no idea what to do with a women but bringing in her, give her water, and leave her in the care of other women. The women were much easier to dispatch quickly.
The shouting from the Great Hall was echoing down the hallways before she reached it. The sounds of feet running down other corridors announced other guards were coming, too. The Sheriff was saying something, and Robin shouted to Much as she ran into the room. Oh, please don't let her be too late.
Her father was on the lower level, near the door she entered, and she stepped up to him, slipping an arm into his. Her father was alive. (But later she would learn of the many who were not.) His expression was confused and worried, but it flitted to her, bore these emotions, and went back, as hers did, to Robin on the high stairs shooting an arrow. Much ran from the Sheriff and the Sheriff, caught by one of Robin's arrows in the show, flew, upside-down, toward the ceiling suddenly.
"Everybody still, if you please," Robin's voice called out, through the first rumble of snickering laughter. "I think we can safely say an audience with the king has been suspended."
Her father was smiling, she could tell by the way he moved even though she didn't look to him. No, her eyes never looked away from Robin and she'd started smiling from the moment he'd started talking. The sheriff struggled, making much noise, the gang was all around, her father was alive, and Robin (her Robin) was grand standing in normal fashion
"Come on, lads, lets go home." He called it out from the top of the stairs, and threw a wink her way which cause her to grin wider.
The next few days or weeks might not be easy, but she could tell, already, that they would be worth it.