For the time being, I'm writing these based on a series of 365 prompts. This means that I will actually have ideas, but they'll probably be a bit shorter than some of the ones before this. Hope you don't mind. And some of them could be longer; I don't know. But at the moment, they seem to be going kind of short.

July 31 – Somebody makes a promise.

The wedding was a great success. At least, he thought so, and he was fairly certain Alan thought so as well. He'd barely taken his eyes off his new wife since they'd left her grand castle behind. It hadn't been easy, but they'd all made it out alive, and that was what mattered in the end.

And of course, they were having a grand party in Sherwood. He'd shot the deer himself, a fine doe, and they cooked the meat on spits over a roaring orange fire. He'd ordered some of the boys to go get buckets of water, just in case. Burning the whole forest down simply over a wedding hardly seemed like a good idea. Then there was music as the men fiddled merry tunes that simply didn't allow anyone to stand still on their feet. So, of course, there was dancing and the Lady Marjorie blushed as she was swung off her feet, and Marian laughed as she claimed a dance with every man there. It had been a fine party.

It was winding down now, as the fires turned to dim embers reminiscing of the once high licking flames. A few of the men were still fiddling, but softly, and Much was telling a story that few of the men were actually listening to, but it was entertaining all the same. On the ground, a short distance from him, Will and Marian were attempting to play Alan's lute, with little success.

He himself was...relaxing. Something he did little enough of these days. Getting the girl out had been stressful. There had been shots fired, a few near deaths, but somehow they'd done it. He knew it wasn't the end of it, though. Her father would send men out looking, but that was a worry for another day.

He rested his head against the long log behind him, staring into the dancing orange and red flames. He breathed in and out slowly, closed his eyes and felt the heat warming his face, while his back chilled in the air on the other side.

After a moment, he turned his head to glance at Alan and the Lady Marjorie. They were looking into each other's faces, smiles on their lips, love in their eyes, just as they'd been when they spoke their vows quietly under the trees, with Friar Tuck's guiding. He supposed they'd want to be alone.

He stood up and walked the long way around the fire, coming around to tap on Alan's shoulder. “The shed is waiting for you,” he whispered. “Marian fixed it quite comfortably, I believe. You don't have to stick around here any longer if you want not to.”

Alan nodded, whispered a few words to Marjorie, and they got up and went away together. He sat down on the log where Alan had been and glanced around for a few moments. His eyes stopped on Marian. She and Will had apparently given up on the lute and were staring into the fire. Her face was glowing with the light and that something else he could never quite define—the thing that had captured his fascination since they were children. She had something, some glow, some passion that enthralled him. “Marian,” he called to her, “come sit with me.”

She glanced at him and slowly rose to her feet, a smile twitching on her lips. “Are you asking me to marry you, Robin?” she asked, coming beside him. “This is the newlywed seat, after all.”

For a moment, he felt panicked. His throat went raw as his palms began to sweat. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked her. Perhaps it implied too much. After a moment, though, he shook off the feeling. This was a party. There was no reason not to have a little fun, so he smiled at her. “Not today, Marian.”

“Ah, tomorrow then,” she replied, sitting down in Marjorie's seat. She folded her legs, sitting on one foot in a relaxed position. “After all, we wouldn't want to spoil Alan and Marjorie's day with our own announcement.”

“No, indeed. It would be most discourteous.” He watched her smile into the fire before going on. “So, what did you think of the wedding? Was it as terribly dangerous as you thought it would be?”

She sat up a bit straight and looked him straight in the eye, raising a dark eyebrow. “Yes,” she said flatly. “If you don't call being rained down upon with arrows as we gallop away at breakneck speeds dangerous, then, Robin, I really don't know about you. And I doubt that's the last we'll see of them either.”

He gave as nonchalant a shrug as he could manage. He already knew all that, but he didn't think it warranted much further talk. Not tonight. “It never is. But I don't want to think about that now.” If he did think about it, he wouldn't stop thinking about it, and he wouldn't be able to enjoy any of the blessings in his life.

“Oh? And what is it that you want to think about, Robin?” Marian asked, leaning a bit closer to him.

He observed her near vicinity carefully, mentally checking himself so as not to get carried away. When he felt he was fully under his own control, he gave her half smile. “Well,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially to her ear, “I want to think about the stars.” He glanced upward furtively and back down to her.

She eyed him with her small frown that simply meant, You're ridiculous, Robin, before glancing up as well. It wasn't the best view in the world. The trees blocked out a lot of the sky, but what they could see was breathtaking. There were jewels sparkling high above them, spread out miles above them, but so bright it seemed as if they could be touched by human hands.

He watched Marian's eyes brighten as she looked at them and smiled. He knew she didn't see stars often. That was something about being a proper courtier. They didn't get outside after dark nearly enough. She looked back at him with her face all bright and full of smiles, even as she tried to contain them.

“You know, Robin, for being so ridiculous and stubborn sometimes, you really can be quite nice.” She moved a bit closer to his and tucked her arm under his own. “So, what else do you want to think about?”

He swallowed as he felt her arm on his, and she was sitting so close to him; he felt if she was any closer, he'd be able to feel her heartbeat, and then he'd truly be a lost cause. “Well, I'm thinking about whether those men should be carried into the lodge or left snoring out here,” he said, indicating a group of six of his men, leaning against a log with some just unconscious on the ground—and all of them making loud, throaty sounds. “I'm leaning towards the latter.”

Marian giggled. “Yes, and what's Much going on about, do you think?”

He glanced up at his friend, who apparently still hadn't got to the end of his tale. There really only seemed to be one listener now—Will, who looked thoroughly confused. Most of the other men were dozing off, or whispering quietly, but Much kept talking on with wild gesticulations. “I've no idea,” he said at last, after a moment of straining to hear. “I rather like watching his expressions, though. Quite the dramatic fellow, Much.”

Marian laughed again, that sound he loved so much to hear, like the sunshine, like every other ridiculous romantic comparison floating around in his head. Like home. He glanced at her again, the way the fire brought out all the red in her hair, made her eyes shine, made her smile.

“Robin,” she said quietly, looking back into his own eyes, suddenly solemn. “Can you promise me we'll always be like this?”

“Like what?” he asked, straightening a little. He found that her fingers had threaded their way through his, and he wasn't sure how. It made him nervous, but he didn't want to let go.

“You know,” Marian said, glancing at the fire, seeming to search for words hidden in the flames. “Friends,” she said finally, looking back at him. “Talking to each other. Being honest. Telling each other when we're being stupid and stubborn and still being able to laugh about it. Not wanting to kill each other at the end of the day.”

He gave her his most solemn face. “Believe me, Marian, I don't think I'm ever really going to want to kill you.”

She swatted his arm. “I'm being serious, Robin!”

“And so was I! I don't want to kill you!” She just looked at him, and finally he sighed. “All right,” he said, considering her words carefully. Promises weren't to be trifled with, especially where Marian was concerned. They had an oddly complicated relationship. In one line of thinking, he knew that he couldn't promise her that. He didn't know what would happen to either of them. Sometimes things changed without being asked to. But when he looked in her eyes, he knew how he had to answer. “I promise,” he said, holding her hand tighter. “I won't change. Other things—circumstances—might change, but I won't. I'll always be here to laugh, or tell you when you're being stupid and stubborn.”

Marian had to stifle a laugh, but her eyes stayed locked on him. Her lips curled into a smile. “I promise, too,” she said softly. She pursed her lips then and glanced up at the sky. “I should probably be going, so I can get at least some sleep before the sun comes up. There'll be talk if I'm falling asleep all day.” She started to rise slowly.

He jumped to his feet. “Of course,” he said. They stood looking at each other for a moment. Their hands were still locked together. He glanced down awkwardly and dropped her hand, pulling his own away.

She looked at her hand, left suddenly alone, and brought it back to her side. She looked up at him with an expression he couldn't make out, but something about it made him look away.

“Well, let's get going then,” he said, turning away from the flickering fire. “I'll go with you to the edge of your estate, to make sure you get there safely.”

She nodded, and they walked together in silence into the dark.