Outlaw Queen Shorts

Under the Shadow of a Cloak

Outlaw Bandit (it's my weakness at the minute) but with something a little different. I've been reading fantasy non-stop recently so I decided to give it a try. Let me know what you think!

The pulsing stars haloed the tavern with a silver glow, which Robin was almost certain he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't just necked back a fifth pint of ale. Tomorrow, regret would be his best friend. But for tonight, he didn't care. He stroked his thumb up the length of Regina's where her palm lay firmly within his, her body inching closer into his side as they walked. The sigh she let out was almost imperceptible, but he heard it. This contented little breath of air he just knew was accompanied by a small smile quirking up her lips.

"Is this what it's like," he lifted their hands up in front of him, "to have made it?" He only really heard the words once they were in the air between them and he half expected to receive a punch to the arm in response for his soppiness, but when he turned his head, Regina's face was only lined with the softest of smiles, and a twinkling gleam in her eyes.

She brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I think so." And that voice – thick with an emotion he doubted he'd ever heard before or would ever hear much again from her – was more of a shock than any physical blow she could have bestowed upon him.

Vaguely he heard the rustling leaves behind them where the wind guided the branches into a dance, but the scenery became very much secondary when Regina's tongue darted out to wet her lips – Robin's eyes flicking between there are her wide eyes that shone with the reflection of the full moon. If he were an artist, he would draw her for the rest of his life: the elegant planes of her face, the soft curve of her nose and sharp lines of her cheek bones. She didn't need rouge on her cheeks or thick lines of kohl under her eyes like the barmaids and women-of-leisure would paint their faces with. Her skin alone was perfection. She was perfection.

"Regina," he breathed her name and her eyes fluttered. They'd moved closer somehow, his lips a fraction from hers; if either of them swayed, the touch would be inevitable.

"Chuck your coins in the bag!"

Robin snapped his neck up at the gruff voice – coming, rather soberingly, face to face with the tip of a hunting knife, its steel flashing in the moonlight. "Come on, in the bag!" The cloaked man held out a black sack with his other hand, his face hidden within the shadows of his hood and the night surrounding them. His blade tipped further in Robin's direction as three dark figures emerged from the trees behind the tavern, all of them moving as smoothly as wraiths.

The man with the knife let out a low laugh as they surveyed the approaching back-up. "In the bag," he grunted, "or the woman dies." Regina's hand squeezed his before she released her grip, flicking her eyes quickly over to Robin as the knife was pointed in her direction.

"We won't be doing that." Said Robin, keeping the thief's attention while he slipped his hand into his cloak and reached for the concealed dagger strapped to his belt - his bow was safely back at camp, and he kicked himself for leaving it behind. Blood thrummed in his veins, but not from fear. He dared a glance at Regina, saw the glint of metal from within the folds of her own cloak as she threw her gaze to him and grinned. That's my girl.

Quicker than the attacker could move out of the way, Regina swiped the knife from his hand, and Robin spun towards the three lackies now advancing in on them. He knocked the first out with a swift blow to the side of the head, the hooded man's body slumping to the ground with a dull thud. Robin spun on his heel to face the second attacker – a woman judging by the height – and threw his leg out to swipe the feet from under her. She jumped over his boot with a snarl and lurched forward, landing a punch to his gut. He stumbled back, taking the moment to glance over to where Regina was locked in a fist fight with the one remaining robber – the original blade-wielding thief lying at odd angles on the gravel. Then he ran for the woman, dagger aloft.

She slammed into him, her own dagger now in hand. Her fist found his side again but he managed to twist around her arm, swivelling on his feet, and tripped her. Robin shoved a hand into her shoulder to pin her to the ground - his heart pounding with adrenaline - dagger firmly pressed to the column of her throat that peeked out from the shadow of her cloak.

Regina appeared over his shoulder, her boots coming into view at the side of the woman's head. "You sure you still want those coins?" Robin smirked at Regina's voice. The woman was barely able to shake her head with his dagger so close to piercing flesh.

"Good," he said, shoving her back into the ground before he released her cloak and stood, watching her scuttle off into the forest beyond the tavern.

He sheathed his dagger and brushed off the dirt on his trousers. When he looked back up, Regina had that mischievous smirk playing on her lips, her eyes bright with a fighting afterglow. Robin found himself panting slightly - hand to hand combat having been removed from his work-out for so long. But Regina stood as still as she always did. Power and grace radiating from her in equal parts.

"Where were we?" she mused, stepping closer to slide an arm behind his back.

Then her lips were on his, soft and warm but eager, barely able to soak him up fast enough as she slipped her tongue through his parted lips, his hands coming up to roam her sides and her back, running over her cheek and then tangling into her hair as he cupped her head. Every movement of their lips drew them closer into space that shouldn't have been there – wasn't there really, their bodies were flush at every possible point, but they still managed to get closer. He pulled away, taking one look into those eyes shining with desire and diving back in, his hand an anchor on her lower back.
She huffed a laugh onto his lips as the fuzzy edges of the alcohol crept its way back to the front of his brain. "We make quite the team, you and I." She said and he grinned at her, like the love-struck fool he was.

One of the fallen thieves let out a low groan from his place on the floor and shifted his leg against the gravel, pulling their attention from each other.

"Let's go." Robin took her hand back in his and turned towards the tavern. "One round is more than enough for tonight."

Regina quirked her brow, grinning at him in a way that sent a new pang of adrenaline coursing through him. "Speak for yourself," she drawled, pulling him along back towards camp. For all her bluster, even she knew it would do no one any good to stick around. They made their way back to the merry men, hand-in-hand all the way.

Quite the team indeed