"The Color of His Eyes"

Disclaimer: Robin Hood's not mine in any way shape or form. Too bad really…

AN: I just love this movie and watched it again tonight. Since there's not nearly enough fanfiction for Marion and Robin, I thought I'd write a bit of my own. I might continue it with the burning of Nottingham and discovering that Walter's dead. Maybe continue it on through Robin's departure… Thoughts?

He was gone. Robin Longstride had abandoned Pepperharrow, had abandoned Sir Walter Loxley, and had abandoned her. She should have known that he would head for the hills as soon as he could. As they had toured Nottingham today, Marion had thought for just a moment that he was an honorable man. He had talked of how a man should be able to fend for himself, he had taken the Sherriff to task for his insolent words to her, and she had caught a glimpse of a man who might be able to rejuvenate Nottingham. But she had awakened just now and he was not asleep in front of the fire.

He had left. She knew the color of his eyes now and they were the color of betrayal. He had played the part with his "Ask me nicely" and his charming of the town's folk, but clearly that had all been a façade to weasel his way into an old man's heart and home. Marion idly wondered if he'd stolen anything before he'd left. She sighed and slipped on her robe and slippers to go check.

The sight of his sleeping bulk in front of the fire in the main room stopped her dead in her tracks. He hadn't left, after all. A part of her, larger than she realized, was relieved, relieved that he hadn't betrayed her and relieved he was still there. But what on earth was he doing down here? As Marion got closer, she could see that he was filthy, exhausted, and drenched to the skin. She couldn't help but admire him, though. Robin truly was a very handsome man. Marion's eyes had involuntarily strayed to his well-shaped torso as she'd helped him out of his mail and shirt last night. She remembered how his strong hands had felt, helping her onto her horse and guiding her foot into the stirrup today. His arms had taken the weight of the ram and then her as if they were nothing. And he had been oh, so warm. He must have felt her eyes on him, for his own flickered open. For a woman who had threatened him only last night, she imagined waking to find her staring at him would be somewhat confusing. An explanation was in order.

"I thought you'd left."

"The fields are planted. I didn't want to wake you."

She was astonished. "How did you get the seed?"

"If you have to ask how, then it's not a gift."

This man! He had galloped into her life, informed her of her husband's death, bargained himself into her family and chambers, pulled her (and a ram) out of a pit of mud, even stood up for her against the Sherriff, and now this. She had prayed for a miracle and God had sent her one, in the very pleasing form of the man in front of her.

"Thank you."

Marion leaned over and pulled the blanket up around Robin's shoulders. His eyes, as she met them, seemed to say thousands of words. She wasn't quite ready to listen to them, but she couldn't help but notice that they were the most beautiful blend of blue and green that she'd ever seen. Her breath hitched. Now she knew.

Her steps faltered briefly as she left him, but her mind and her heart were both incapable of expressing what they were feeling. As she reluctantly returned to her chambers, Marion Loxley thought it possible that Robin Longstride was indeed a very honorable man.