19The skies were cloudy and dark and matched her mood perfectly. Marian stood at her window, staring out into the cloudy sky and forest beyond her home, quietly seething. Would that she lived in a place where men were not so stupid, greedy - and more interested in gaining women as property and child-bearers than as friends or partners.
She had just returned from another loveless wedding, where the bride cried more tears of sorrow than joy, while the groom, completely oblivious, beamed and jested with the other men who congratulated him on his conquest, and made lewd jokes about his wedding night. She'd seen it many times, and was a product of such a union, and still it was unsettling. She would never allow anyone to force her into such a marriage. She didn't care if they stoned her to death, it would be preferable even, than to spend a life with a man who she did not love.
It was her father who had decided to betroth her to Robin of Locksley, when she was but an infant. Robin, the self-proclaimed hero of Locksley. The people had filled his head with so much praise and adoration since he was a young boy, that he had become pompous and vain. She did not hate him; it was true that he was a good man, albeit too high on his own horse to really notice his own faults - of which there were many. The least of which, being his weakness for young ladies, who flocked to his bedchamber every night. She knew better than to think that the man would be devoted to her.
Marian tried to not think on these things, the knowledge that her would-be husband was so interested in loving so many other women besides herself made her want to equally weep at her own fate, and murder her fiance with her bare hands.
She supposed she was vain in her own way, though, and selfish. She wasn't terribly ugly, after all. She was certainly prettier than the last wench she'd caught Robin sneaking out of the woods with, at any case. She could only imagine what loss he must be feeling, now, that he was in the Holy Land, with no willing women to woo. Knowing Robin, he had probably found a beautiful infidel to keep him warm in the cold desert night. Knowing Robin...
A knock at the door interrupted her increasingly murderous thoughts. She quickly rushed to the side of the window, careful not to be seen in only her night clothes, and saw a dark head standing impatiently outside the front door. The man waited not three more seconds from the first knock, to pound loudly again. He looked up into the windows, possibly looking for an indication that they were home, when she caught his gaze. Pale, ice blue eyes looked back at hers for a startlingly brief moment, before she quickly looked away and retreated further into the shadows of her room.
The knock sounded again much louder, accompanied this time by a deep voice, "Open up, Sheriff. I have an urgent message from Prince John!"
Prince John? Why would he have a message for her father? She dressed quickly, as she heard the large, heavy door opening, and murmurs from below. Her father's small, tired voice reached her, and she immediately became anxious. She finished throwing on her dress, ignoring the cumbersome fastenings, and deciding she was decent enough for the occasion of being so rudely interrupted so late in the night, and rushed down the stairs.
Her father was speaking a man who had several armored knights with him, his voice quickly becoming panicked, when she burst into the room. All eyes were suddenly on her, but she only noticed her father's flushed face, and shocked expression.
"Marian!", he shouted, his gaze sweeping from her undone hair to her barely covered torso, to her bare feet, "What are you wearing? Go upstairs at once!"
She could feel her face growing hot under his critical glare, and her embarrassment at being chastised in front of strangers made her more than a little angry.
"Well, what does one expect, when one comes to the door at such a ridiculous hour!"
She heard the stranger laugh softly, and she finally got a good look at him. The Devil, himself was standing just inside her door, his black hair shining in the lanterns that glowed on the wall beside his head. His eyes were laughing, cold and blue, much like the ice she suspected made up his heart. His mouth was turned up in a slight grin, and her first reaction was to immediately hate him. She realized she was staring, with her mouth slightly agape by her father's third use of her name.
"Marian! Go back to your room! Now!"
Though she knew it was childish, she did turn to go, but with deliberate slowness. Her father rarely used such a tone with her, and she wondered if the servants were right in saying that he should have disciplined her more as a child. She was certainly every bit the head-strong, opinionated woman that they all knew her to be. She saw it as her only freedom. She was continually forced into this prison of a home, into the Lady that she had been trained to be, yet she longed for true freedom.
Freedom, that as soon as Robin returned, would be taken completely from her. Her father may excuse her shocking behavior; Robin never would. He had told her as much, several times, in fact. To spite him, she attempted to be even more contrary in his presence. She supposed it was becoming more habit now, than what she truly wanted. If someone told her to stay, she would immediately go. If she was told to sit still and be quiet, she immediately spoke up. Despite the small satisfaction her disobedience gave her, she sometimes feared she would one day go too far - and it would be her undoing.
She opened the door at the top of the stairs just as slowly as she had ascended them, still feeling those ice-blue eyes of the stranger upon her. He wasn't the first man to have ever noticed her, yet she was unnerved by it. She closed her door with much more haste than she had opened it, and retreated inside, her satisfaction at making her slow retreat somewhat dimmed by the strangers piercing gaze. She decided that next time, it would be wise to not give him cause to notice her. She held her door open only slightly, so that she could hear what was being said, and noticed that it took her father a few moments to regain the stranger's attention away from her door.
"What is the nature of this summons - and at so late an hour?"
"My name is Guy, Guy of Gisborne. Perhaps you remember me?"
Marian gasped. Guy? Guy was here? That was Guy? He had changed so much from the lanky boy she remembered from her youth that she would never have recognized him. The black hair, the pale blue eyes, the dimples in his face remained the same, yet now, as she looked upon him, she saw the hardness in his features that had replaced the soft; the cruelty in eyes that had once been kind.
"Guy?" Her father was clearly as startled as she had been at this unexpected visit. "What are you doing here? I thought you had been forced from this place long ago - "
"Well, now I am back, and I am the new, and rightful Lord of Locksley manor."
Her father stammered, but Lord Guy interrupted him before he could speak a coherent word.
"Prince John has sent me here to inform you that you have been out-bid in your job of sheriff. Your replacement will be here on the morrow to relieve you on your duties."
She watched as her father simply nodded his acquiescence, said a few mumbling replies, and handed over his keys. The guards that were with Lord Gisborne turned, not even attempting to hide their amusement at how uncomplicated their job had been. Marian wanted to disappear into the floorboards, her humiliation apparent in the tears that slid down her cheeks, and the heat in her face. Guy took one last glance at her door, his expression unreadable, and left.
She heard the front door close soundly, the last nail being closed in the coffin that was their dignity, as Marian saw it - and most certainly their livelihood. She watched through tear-stained eyes as her father slumped into the nearest chair and began to openly weep. She closed the door softly and leaned her forehead against the rough wood. How could he have just stood by and let this happen? She found herself once again, questioning the actions of men. Her father may be resigned to his fate, but Marian decided then and there that she would never let anyone control hers ever again.
This would be the last time she would allow herself to feel shame and defeat at the hands of a man.
Hello! Thanks for reading my little ficlet.
This may turn into something more, and it may just stand alone. Please excuse any grammatical errors. I didn't have a beta for this one. :)