to the merry green wood.

call. @boldrobin​

        ❝ oh, go on, say you’ll teach me to shoot! ❞

       “How remarkably civilized,” Marian says evenly. There is a note of muted humor in her voice, offset by the raising of her brows in true consternation. Robin has spent more of his life working outside the law than living within it, Marian thinks, and she has never known him to brood so deeply on the crown’s intentions, clear as they’ve always been ‘til now. 

       “It’s not often you’ve been caught so far off your guard, my love. In fact, I can think of only one other who’s ever vexed you so.” The corners of Marian’s eyes crinkle with such a knowing smile, for she has borne the brunt of Robin’s mistrust before, and not half so graciously as Fillory’s new ruler seems to have done. “Perhaps that is reason enough for us to give this queen a chance?” 

     ‘ You’d like her, ’ he says with a light laugh. It only lasts a moment, but it’s something, he supposes. Perhaps Marian is right. Perhaps they can trust Queen Julia, at least for now, even if they must be wary of some kind of duplicity. 

     Robin reaches for Marian’s hand, plays idly with her fingers while he thinks on this. He’s spent so long in opposition to Fillorian monarchy, to any ruler who dares to say they have the right to stand so far above others... The thought of working alongside a Queen - a King, anyone - makes him uncomfortable. He sighs. 

     A small frown has situated itself upon Robin’s brow. He sits in camp, leaning back against some long-fallen tree trunk and picking at the last few bits of the food from Whitespire that they did not give to the people of Strone - and the lads did not eat immediately. He seems disquieted by something, even by Marian’s side, unable to stop thinking about the conversation he had with the High Queen. 

        Julia watches him laugh with little more than raised brows and the twitch of a smile. She can’t really blame him for finding it so ridiculous that a royal wouldn’t love the power they’ve been handed when that’s so often been the case. 

       “I wouldn’t say hate, but I’m sure that’s only because I don’t have your experience with it.” Julia shakes her head, reaching for her goblet. “I grew up in a Democratic Republic, where the people choose leaders to represent our interests and every few years we get a chance to change our minds. It’s not perfect, but at least we had some say.” She pauses for a sip of wine, then: “Divine right is just a reckless, bullshit way to decide who’s going to rule a nation. Whoever it is, they’re bound to be out of touch, even if they were actually born on the same planet they’re trying to rule.” 

        Let Ember cast her out for saying so, if he must. Part of her would be relieved if he did, but Julia suspects that would be too easy and leave the god too bored. “Maybe it’s naive or idealistic, but I believe a government should serve its people, not the other way around.” 

     ‘ Now - why is it that when I say that, they make an outlaw of me? ’ That isn’t the whole truth, of course, but Robin would argue that he had kept to the spirit of such a statement when he challenged the law that lead to his becoming an outlaw. The Crown had not helped Much at all, back when Robin was a younger man. It had only wanted to take and to punish. Twenty-three years later and it seems that finally there is a ruler in Fillory who understands. Or pretends to. He will see, sooner or later, how much she truly believes in her own words. 

     For now, though, Robin continues to eat. At some point, he grabs one of the napkins from the table and unfolds it, shortly afterwards beginning to pile food into it until he is sure it can take no more and still be closed. With that, he only takes another napkin and repeats the process, between bites of his own food and paying the so-called High Queen very little mind. Marian might appreciate the taste of the higher life again, and part of him is curious as to whether or not she might be able to name some of the spices he can taste. But even regardless of that, a little more food for the Merry Men - for the people of Strone too, close as they are and yet still so very far away from the Castle - the better. 

        Julia doesn’t so much as bat an eye at Robin’s table manners. She’s received plenty of perplexed or disapproving looks herself just for using the wrong fork to eat a salad, and she can’t help wondering if these meaningless etiquette rules were carried over from Earth or both planets just happen to have the same stick up their metaphorical asses. Either way, it’s been a huge pain in hers. 

        But there’s no one around to nitpick Julia’s behavior now, and she’s going to eat this not-a-chicken’s leg with her hands like nature intended. God does she miss the simple pleasure of folding a slice of pizza in half and shoving it in her face while watching the Lord of the Rings for the hundredth movie night in a row. Though not nearly as much as she misses who she used to watch with. She’s glad when Robin gestures for her to begin, interrupting that thought. 

       “Right, so—” Julia pauses to swallow before diving in. “Straight to the point: This whole arrangement’s pretty obviously bullshit, and you’re probably the only person in this castle right now who’d agree with me on that.” 

     That certainly gives him a moment’s pause. Robin spends a moment simply looking at her, disbelief plain on his features, trying his best to figure out what spin she could possibly have on this. This whole arrangement, she says, and he wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Could they possibly be? Why would a monarch - a Child of Earth - ever look at the power they have been given and say there is clearly something wrong with it? 

     ‘ I can think of a few arrangements I take issue with. Most of them have the support of your court. ’ He narrows his eyes, a slight frown pushing down at his brow. Never has he trusted somebody in her position to think of anyone but themselves, anything but their own power. And yet... ‘ Don’t tell me you’re a Queen who hates the monarchy. ’ 

          ❝ a wise decision not to try. far wiser than getting captured by the sheriff’s men. ❞ sometimes, alys wonders how she became embroiled with such a foolhardy man, but the fact is that she knows—and she would do it, all over again, because it is the right thing to do. if she has to live in danger so that others do not starve, she will do so. and if that means helping robin escape, then she will do that, too. but she will do it with a sigh.

        ❝ you don’t wish to remain there? ❞

          “you are a most modest winner, sir,” she says, still smiling, her eyes more than a little amused by now. “i know little enough of archery, still i know well enough to be sure your victory was no mere lucky gust of the wind. i would be surprised indeed if the captain of our company of archers did not see you out by day’s end. he always seems in need of new recruits.” 

        Marian watches the look come upon Robin’s face with a defiant flutter in her belly. Damn that smile, and the man who wears it for so often finding his way under her skin. She gives a restrained roll of her eyes, brows drawn together incredulously. “You are far too quick to flatter yourself, Robin Hood. I confess to no such embarrassment.” And yet, there it is: the slight curl at the corner of her mouth that is always betraying the truth of the matter. More telling still is the way she holds his gaze, and makes no effort to lean away when he comes so near. 

        Perhaps she does not mind his company so much. (Less and less with each day, if there is any minding left at all.) Marian’s eyes roam unhurriedly over Robin’s face. It is true that none have ever brought such passion to the surface in her so well or so often as he. It is also true that this concerns and thrills her with equal measure. 

       “You do seem quite eager at the idea of my good opinion, however.” Now it is Marian’s turn to tease, both eyebrows quirked. “Take care, dear Robin, lest you give your Merry Men the wrong impression. I should hate for them to think their intractable leader has grown soft on a Lady such as I.” 

     ‘ If there was ever a lady’s opinion I cared to earn, Marian, it is yours, ’ he says bluntly. The goal is to unbalance her, of course, though eventually Robin may be persuaded to admit that there is some truth in his words. Often has Robin been wrong about Marian, but he sees her now more clearly than he ever has and finds himself glad to have met her. 

     It is not lost on him that she could simply sit there in her golden cage and play her part, that instead she opts to do something meaningful. Precious few other nobles care enough to speak for those in need at all, let alone risk their safety, their necks to play the spy or the outlaw. He had misunderstood her once, resented her, even, but no more. 

      ❝  you’re lucky. i have stories to last lifetimes, but this, having people that count on you, a life to live   —  i don’t know. i keep forgetting what it’s like.  ❞

@boldrobin​​    ♡   starter call.