Marian's Epiphany

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1

It felt very strange, the act of dying. Marian had never imagined it to be so. In fact, she had never imagined dying in the first place, and especially not at the hand of Sir Guy of Gisborne. She had always assumed that Guy would protect her at all costs, but here in the desert, in a small town called Acre, as the sun beamed down relentlessly and the sand inveigled its way into parts of the body that a non-resident would never believe, Guy had proved her wrong. His was the hand on the hilt of the sword that had slid almost apologetically into her stomach. His were the bleak eyes that she looked into as he released his tight grip on her and she slid to the ground.

It felt very strange, because she could barely feel the hard, cracked surface of the desert beneath her. She could hardly feel the length of cold steel that protruded from her body, or the blade that she clutched so desperately between numb hands at the point where it entered her body. She couldn't feel anything.

Distantly, she heard Robin, and smiled, her gaze on the sun above her, a ball of blinding light that glared down upon her broken body.

Robin, my love, she thought absentmindedly, wondering why he had screamed her name with such anguish.

There was a thudding that shook throughout her body and the sun beamed brighter and then brighter still. There was a rushing in her ears, almost like the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of Sherwood on a summer's day, and she felt suddenly peaceful, knowing that Robin was near.

He reached her, or did he reach her? She wasn't quite sure, yet felt her body being lifted gently from the hard ground. She was light as a feather, borne on the wind as the leaves of the forest skittered around her, and she sighed and closed her eyes.

She was home, in Knighton, and her father was in the hall, waiting for her. She was with Robin, and he was planning on asking Father for her hand in marriage. Marian was delighted, and could barely hide her joy. She loved Robin beyond compare, and had done so ever since she was a very young girl. Marrying him was the thing she wanted the most in the world, and it was going to happen.

She sighed again, and remembered with serene puzzlement that her eyes were closed. She opened them and realised with mild curiosity that she was back in the desert, standing on the outskirts of the square she had entered minutes before. The square where she had witnessed Guy preparing to kill King Richard.

A scene was unfolding before her, yet she wasn't sure what was happening. Robin was there, crouched on the floor beside a bundle of clothing. Guy stood to the side, his shoulders drooping, dejection in every line of his stance.
What was wrong with him? Marian wondered, but vaguely. Her focus was on her love, her betrothed.

"Robin," she called, but he didn't look up. It was as if he couldn't hear her.

"He can't hear you," Allan confirmed.

Marian looked to her right in mild surprise, and observed with some wonder the outfit that Allan wore. Hose in a deep, wine-red and matching boots with a pointed toe that extended before his foot and curled upwards into a spiral. A tunic in a patchwork of bright colours: red, blue, emerald green. Upon his head, crammed atop his chestnut curls, was an outlandish emerald green hat with two red satin horns that curved to the side and then upwards like a bull's. Both horns sported a small bell that tinkled as he turned his head to look at her. He gave her an impudent grin.

"Allan," Marian exclaimed, and Allan shrugged with a tinkle.

"Sort of," he said enigmatically, and Marian rolled her eyes.

She had grown to know Allan well over the past few months during their time in Nottingham Castle, and she had come to love him like an insufferable older brother. And he certainly was insufferable at times, this moment being no different.