Well, this is my first ever Robin Hood fanfic and since I know next to nothing about the time period, but am rather in love with Robin/Marian ship, this isn't going to be a real story, but a collection of shippy scenes from my own personal fandom. So each chapter will be just a different, random scene with them doing something or other. Maybe a few will be two chapters or so; we'll see. Note: this is not based on the BBC tv show or the movie or, well, anything except my own knowledge and imagination of Robin Hood.


Robin sighed. "I'm no hero, Marian, I killed a man, whether by accident or no. And now I'm just doing this, because...I don't even know why!" He gave a rather frustrated laugh, raising his hands into the air with a shrug. "Perhaps God ordained it."

A smile played on her lips for a moment as she gazed at him. His arms were still tensing, fingers gripping his longbow tightly, though there was no danger. No one would find them there, sitting on the rocks of the shore of the lake. Their lake, she liked to think of it, because she hardly ever came their except with him. She wasn't sure if he thought of it the same way or not, but she hoped that he did, though perhaps he never thought of it at all; it had been so long since they'd come here. They'd used to, all the time, before he was an outlaw, before things were complicated. She raised her eyes back to his face; his brows arched in a frown, considering his life, no doubt, how he could be better. "But that's what a hero is, Robin," she said at last. "Someone who's there when their needed, ready to answer God's call."

He glanced at her, sighing again, and running a hand through his unruly hair. "I suppose so, I just—I don't feel like a hero. In fact I feel like I've messed everything up! It's all I can do, to try and help the people and take care of my men."

"Perhaps you're too much of a perfectionist," Marian replied, sliding off the smooth rock with a smile. Her bare feet landed lightly on the soft sand and she wiggled her toes, feeling it squish between them, enjoying it immensely. She never got to do things like this anymore, not with Father pressing her to marry, with everyone pressing her to be a lady, expecting too much of her, in her own opinion. She whirled around to face Robin suddenly her skirt twirling out around her. "Will you dance with me, Robin?" she asked him.

He looked startled at this question and slightly confused, so she went on quickly, "I haven't danced with you in so long, Robin. You can't come to the dances in town and when the bards play the fiddle in Sherwood you're always so busy, and I just miss you and well, the way things were." She said this all in a rush, hardly daring to glance at Robin, let alone watch for his reaction. She knew she loved him, but perhaps he didn't, or perhaps he didn't love her back and she certainly didn't want him to think—she glanced up at him finally, to see his gazed fixed on her, with a rather amused expression on his face. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

"Certainly," he spoke, setting his bow down carefully and rising from his rock, saving her from any further embarrassment. He made his way towards her swiftly; his left arm seemed to almost glide around her waist as his right slipped around hers.

She hesitantly placed her left hand on his shoulder as they stepped off.

"So you miss dancing with me, Marian?" he said, with a slight grin. His dark eyes met her gaze mischievously. She'd never felt so exposed.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Robin," she replied, staring back at him with a squared jaw. "But I'm sure I'm not the only one," she went on teasingly. "As I remember, there were a great many maidens in Nottingham mourning the loss of the handsome Robin of Loxley."

Robin's smile seemed to fade suddenly. "Aye, but many would rejoice in the loss of Robin Hood of Sherwood, I'm sure," he said glumly.

Marian immediately regretted mentioning his past title. "Well, I wouldn't. And neither would Much, or Little John, or Will, or any of them," she said, in an attempt to make him feel better. It didn't appear to be working. She sighed. "Do you miss it that much?"

He glanced into her eyes. "Not my title and my estate so much as my honor. I don't like being regarded as a thief and a troublemaker."

Marian bit her lip. "But—you do good, Robin. You help people. They love you, Robin, I—" she broke off, seeing that her point was moot. He wasn't listening. He doubted himself too much, was too humble to realize that everyone who had a lick of sense knew he was a hero. "I miss those days, too," she said at last. "When you didn't have so much to worry about and we could do things together. Climb those trees in the back of Father's estate, run around in the forest, come here." She smiled at the memory. "Today's been better, though, with you and me. Almost like old times."

Robin nodded his agreement, eyes intently focused on her. "Those were good times. Today, was a good time." He was silent a moment before going on, "It's not the same, though, is it? I have too much to think about, too much to lose."

She shook her head. "That's why I miss it, Robin. It used to be just you and me, friends." She gave a sad smile.

He pursed his lip suddenly. "Marian—I always be your friend, you know that don't you? I'll always be here for you, if you need me."

"Just a friend, Robin?" she asked, dipping her head down even as she spoke. It was bold to say, but she wanted it so bad, wanted him, not just as the friend who would always be there for her, but couldn't really be there.

"Marian..." he was saying when she looked up again. He looked upset, pained almost. "You know I can't...I'm an outlaw, Marian. You're a lady."

She nodded, tasting the same bittersweet feeling she always got when being around him. He was always like that, the perfect friend, nothing more and nothing less. Sometimes she wished he would just tell her to get over him, to be rude to her for once. Then maybe she could forget about him, she could move on. But she knew she didn't want to move on, not really.

"Marian—"

"I'm fine," she interrupted whatever he was going to say to her. She smiled brightly and oh-so-fakely, to wave off any worry he had about her. It was his duty to have sense and tell her they could never be; it was hers to pretend she didn't care.

They stepped again, still dancing, and she tripped, falling sideways into the water and pulling Robin down with her. Laughing, she splashed him, and he splashed back, until they could almost forget their feelings and conversations of duty.