Post by Lady Idril on Mar 15, 2007 2:38:05 GMT -5
A/N: This is just a little Robin/Marian oneshot I dreamed up. It's based on the 1991 film Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, but it could easily be translated to any version. It's very simply fluff. Yes, I do that a lot...
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers pictures, I do not claim ownership of any of the characters, story, etc. Everything belongs to its rightful owner. (Can I be affiliated with Will Scarlett, though? Darn...)
The fire of the sun cascaded down the mountain side to land somewhere beyond the trees, beyond sight of the castle walls. It’s descent ignited the sky with a hue that mirrored the deepest red-orange flames licking at the blackest of silk. Robin watched the poetic painting before him with eyes brimmed with happiness. He was Robin, Lord of Locksley and husband of Lady Marian Dubois. No longer was he Robin of the Hood, the Sherwood Bandit, the Lord-turned-Outlaw. His dreams, his hopes, the desires that had hidden themselves so deep within him; they had all come to pass. He was truly a blessed man.
This night was unlike any the castle had experience in the past year, since the union of Lord and Lady. A surreal quiet reigned over the grounds, a peaceful solitude exuding from the motionless night. There was no intense solicitude as Robin had come to expect with the dawn of every sun to the rise of every moon. But he knew that the daunting concern he felt every moment of his life had been inside him, and tonight was a night of festivities; a night of letting the mind wander, if only for a moment.
On this particular night at this particular time, Robin allowed his mind to wander back to his childhood. Back to the days when piquant daydreams ran rampant; tales of knights and white horses, damsels in distress. He could not help but smile as the scene played out before him in the horizon of his mind.
“You tosspots!” cried a nine-year-old Marian Dubois from one of the castle’s lowest balconies. “You aren’t playing fair! I ought to tell father on you, Peter!” Her brother, twelve years of age, sneered up at her from beneath the luxurious shade of a lively tree.
“A right load of codswallop your story is, Mare,” he shot back. “We want to play the story with the dragons and the dark lords, nothing to do with this silly fairy princess nonsense!” Robin snorted, shaking his sandy hair back as he slumped further, nodding fervently to his friend.
“You promised!” Marian’s little voice cracked from the strain, her eyes welling with tears. “You said you would save me!”
“I promised once,” Peter sighed, pulling an apple from the tree. “And I’ve kept my promise. You can bet your bloomin’ bushel I won’t do it again. The dragons can have you.”
“Here, here!” Robin cheered, slapping his friend on the back. “Let’s have no more of these little girl games, I say.”
“I’m all off it,” Peter returned, rising lazily from his seat. “I’ll race you to the barn, Robin!” And with that, Peter was gone.
Robin took one last bite of his apple, tossing it to the ground, but he stopped at the sound of the young girl weeping. He looked up to see her small form slumped on the floor, hugging her knees and crying so much that she would surely drench her dress. He could see her shoulders shaking, hear her whimpering and lightly stomping her feet. He didn’t know what had happened, but something in his heart gave way and his feet seemed to refuse the road to the barn.
Overcome by this new burning, tingling sensation in his mind and soul, he quietly began to climb the tree, sliding through the branches like a chimp. He crossed to the branch that stretched closest to the balcony and slowly worked his way to it; to her.
As he made a slight leap and landed easily over the railing, Marian jumped to her feet and revealed the largest hazel eyes, deep with emotion. Robin stared at her for a moment, smiling in what he thought was surely a stupid way. But there was something about her face in this moment, pale from shock with bright ruby cheeks and nose, and those eyes. Her hair, a mess of curls, blew in her face and she sniffled, brushing the strands away.
“Come, milady,” Robin said mock-gallantly, holding out his hand. The young girl stared at him for a moment, confused and dazed. This was not like Robin, she knew. She wondered what mean trick the boy was planning, what evil thing he would do to her. He sighed, slightly impatient. “Come, woman, or I really will leave you to the dragons!”
Marian’s small lips crept into a smile and her eyes brightened considerably. She did not take his hand, but rather threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Robin coughed, shocked at the young girl’s sudden attack. He stood for a moment, arms open and eyes wide, but her strawberry scent drew him and he returned the hug. This was all so strange.
“Thank you, Sir Robin!” Marian squealed into his tunic, and he laughed softly in response. Retrieving a rope from his belt, he tied one end to the balcony’s railing and held the other tightly in his hand. He grasped her waist, and both prepared to leap. But before they did, Marian stole a moment and kissed his cheek swiftly. Robin felt his heart do a strange sort of backflip just before they retreated, Knight and Damsel.
Robin was drawn from his daydream by the sound of the door to his bedchamber creaking heavily open, and there in the doorway stood his very damsel. Marian looked tired, but happy. Very happy. He saw the same round, beautiful hazel eyes, the same bright pink cheeks, nose, lips. The same strawberry-sweet smell entered the room with her, tugging playfully at his senses.
“John says you owe him five kegs by Christmas,” she announced mockingly. “Something to do with a bet about the friar and a bottle of ale?” Robin winced slightly, regretting his decision to take part in such a bet.
“Oh, that. That’s nothing.” he waved it off, walking to her and taking her hands in his. She sneered up at him knowingly, but the mocking expression left her features when she looked into his eyes.
“What have you been thinking on, Robin? No more troubles, I beg of you.”
“No troubles,” he replied. When her questioning glance did not ease, he chuckled slightly. “I was thinking of you.” She blushed deeply, looking away momentarily.
“We have been married for a year, Robin. What on earth made you think of me, sitting in this solitude by yourself?” She whispered the words breathlessly, their faces mere inches apart. He kissed her softly before leaning his forehead against hers. Both lovers closed their eyes, submitting to the bliss of the moment.
“I will always think of you in every waking moment of my life,” was his response. “You are in my soul, in my heart. You are in everything I do.”
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers pictures, I do not claim ownership of any of the characters, story, etc. Everything belongs to its rightful owner. (Can I be affiliated with Will Scarlett, though? Darn...)
Everything I Do
The fire of the sun cascaded down the mountain side to land somewhere beyond the trees, beyond sight of the castle walls. It’s descent ignited the sky with a hue that mirrored the deepest red-orange flames licking at the blackest of silk. Robin watched the poetic painting before him with eyes brimmed with happiness. He was Robin, Lord of Locksley and husband of Lady Marian Dubois. No longer was he Robin of the Hood, the Sherwood Bandit, the Lord-turned-Outlaw. His dreams, his hopes, the desires that had hidden themselves so deep within him; they had all come to pass. He was truly a blessed man.
This night was unlike any the castle had experience in the past year, since the union of Lord and Lady. A surreal quiet reigned over the grounds, a peaceful solitude exuding from the motionless night. There was no intense solicitude as Robin had come to expect with the dawn of every sun to the rise of every moon. But he knew that the daunting concern he felt every moment of his life had been inside him, and tonight was a night of festivities; a night of letting the mind wander, if only for a moment.
On this particular night at this particular time, Robin allowed his mind to wander back to his childhood. Back to the days when piquant daydreams ran rampant; tales of knights and white horses, damsels in distress. He could not help but smile as the scene played out before him in the horizon of his mind.
- - -
“You tosspots!” cried a nine-year-old Marian Dubois from one of the castle’s lowest balconies. “You aren’t playing fair! I ought to tell father on you, Peter!” Her brother, twelve years of age, sneered up at her from beneath the luxurious shade of a lively tree.
“A right load of codswallop your story is, Mare,” he shot back. “We want to play the story with the dragons and the dark lords, nothing to do with this silly fairy princess nonsense!” Robin snorted, shaking his sandy hair back as he slumped further, nodding fervently to his friend.
“You promised!” Marian’s little voice cracked from the strain, her eyes welling with tears. “You said you would save me!”
“I promised once,” Peter sighed, pulling an apple from the tree. “And I’ve kept my promise. You can bet your bloomin’ bushel I won’t do it again. The dragons can have you.”
“Here, here!” Robin cheered, slapping his friend on the back. “Let’s have no more of these little girl games, I say.”
“I’m all off it,” Peter returned, rising lazily from his seat. “I’ll race you to the barn, Robin!” And with that, Peter was gone.
Robin took one last bite of his apple, tossing it to the ground, but he stopped at the sound of the young girl weeping. He looked up to see her small form slumped on the floor, hugging her knees and crying so much that she would surely drench her dress. He could see her shoulders shaking, hear her whimpering and lightly stomping her feet. He didn’t know what had happened, but something in his heart gave way and his feet seemed to refuse the road to the barn.
Overcome by this new burning, tingling sensation in his mind and soul, he quietly began to climb the tree, sliding through the branches like a chimp. He crossed to the branch that stretched closest to the balcony and slowly worked his way to it; to her.
As he made a slight leap and landed easily over the railing, Marian jumped to her feet and revealed the largest hazel eyes, deep with emotion. Robin stared at her for a moment, smiling in what he thought was surely a stupid way. But there was something about her face in this moment, pale from shock with bright ruby cheeks and nose, and those eyes. Her hair, a mess of curls, blew in her face and she sniffled, brushing the strands away.
“Come, milady,” Robin said mock-gallantly, holding out his hand. The young girl stared at him for a moment, confused and dazed. This was not like Robin, she knew. She wondered what mean trick the boy was planning, what evil thing he would do to her. He sighed, slightly impatient. “Come, woman, or I really will leave you to the dragons!”
Marian’s small lips crept into a smile and her eyes brightened considerably. She did not take his hand, but rather threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Robin coughed, shocked at the young girl’s sudden attack. He stood for a moment, arms open and eyes wide, but her strawberry scent drew him and he returned the hug. This was all so strange.
“Thank you, Sir Robin!” Marian squealed into his tunic, and he laughed softly in response. Retrieving a rope from his belt, he tied one end to the balcony’s railing and held the other tightly in his hand. He grasped her waist, and both prepared to leap. But before they did, Marian stole a moment and kissed his cheek swiftly. Robin felt his heart do a strange sort of backflip just before they retreated, Knight and Damsel.
- - -
Robin was drawn from his daydream by the sound of the door to his bedchamber creaking heavily open, and there in the doorway stood his very damsel. Marian looked tired, but happy. Very happy. He saw the same round, beautiful hazel eyes, the same bright pink cheeks, nose, lips. The same strawberry-sweet smell entered the room with her, tugging playfully at his senses.
“John says you owe him five kegs by Christmas,” she announced mockingly. “Something to do with a bet about the friar and a bottle of ale?” Robin winced slightly, regretting his decision to take part in such a bet.
“Oh, that. That’s nothing.” he waved it off, walking to her and taking her hands in his. She sneered up at him knowingly, but the mocking expression left her features when she looked into his eyes.
“What have you been thinking on, Robin? No more troubles, I beg of you.”
“No troubles,” he replied. When her questioning glance did not ease, he chuckled slightly. “I was thinking of you.” She blushed deeply, looking away momentarily.
“We have been married for a year, Robin. What on earth made you think of me, sitting in this solitude by yourself?” She whispered the words breathlessly, their faces mere inches apart. He kissed her softly before leaning his forehead against hers. Both lovers closed their eyes, submitting to the bliss of the moment.
“I will always think of you in every waking moment of my life,” was his response. “You are in my soul, in my heart. You are in everything I do.”
finis
