Title: Unintended Consequences

Rating: T

Summary: Just because the Sheriff's plots failed, and just because Marion's marriage never quite made it past the altar doesn't mean danger is past. As they are all about to find out.

First Robin Hood fic, so be nice if characterisations and stuff are way off. Got no idea how long this is gonna be, so bear with me. Oh, and it's Robin/Marion by the way, and post 'A Clue: No' (I loved that episode… I was so happy when Marion punched Gisborne!).

So yeah. R&R is much appreciated, and enjoy!

Unintended Consequences

Prologue - Night

The fire crackled contentedly in the middle of the clearing, bone-dry wood splitting and spitting in the heat of the controlled inferno. Moonlight shone gently down from above, filtering through the trees to light the peaceful scene. A brace of skinned rabbits hung across the flickering flames, slowly cooking (or burning, depending on your point of view) as the spit was rotated.

Allan rolled his eyes as Much tended to his cooking. "C'mon, you can't call 'em that," he protested, in a new attack for a continuing argument.

Much barely spared him a glance, remaining intent on his… masterpiece. "Call them what? Rabbits? Why not?" His gaze flickered back over his shoulder to the ever-doubtful Dale and a tongue of flame licked his exposed forearm snidely. He cursed, flinched, and proceeded to ignore Allan once more.

"Yeah," Allan shot back, ignoring Much's painful battle with the fire. "They're not rabbits. They're conies. A brace of conies."

Much's forehead was furrowed. He didn't respond.

Will Scarlett, watching the debate from the sidelines, chipped in with the sensible question. "Does it really matter?"

"Yeah!" Allan replied indignantly. "Of course it matters!"

"Why?" Will probed, a rare smile toying his lips.

"Because…" Dale floundered for an answer.

"Because you generally refuse to give in to Much about anything?" Will offered.

Allan glared at him. Much merely got on with his cooking, blithely unaware, or just uncaring, of the banter around his ears.

Little John, next to Will, poked the rabbit-spit with one finger. "How much longer?" he asked gruffly. "We're all gettin' hungry."

Much swatted the bigger man's hand away from the food with a panicked air, similar to that of a flustered mother fending her children off. "It'll be ready when it's ready!" he exclaimed, shooing John away.

Allan snickered.

"Surely it must be nearly ready?" Djaq interjected. "The rabbits—"

"Conies."

"—must be cooked by now?" she completed, shooting Allan a glare for his interruption.

"Yeah, I think she's right. They are going a bit black," Will observed.

Much, already flustered, yelped and pulled the spit out of the fire. Scarlett was right – there were traces of blackness around the meat. Much sobbed, just the once. "You all distracted me!" he moaned.

John clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he commiserated. "No one really expects your cooking to be all that good anyway." He proceeded to pull the spit out of Much's stunned hands, remove the slightly singed rabbits and divide them up.

Much opened and closed his mouth several times, shocked. Then he just shrugged and accepted the food when John handed it to him.

They were left with two pieces at the end. Allan tried to snatch one, but Djaq slapped his hand back. "They are for Robin and Marian," she cautioned.

"So no touch." John stared hard at Allan until the other man folded beneath his scrutiny and nodded. The big man retrieved the spit and gently replaced the two pieces in the softly-glowing embers to keep the meat heated.

Will glanced in the direction they'd last seen the two remaining members of their gang go. "How long d'you think they'll be?" he asked.

Much didn't even look up. "A long time," he replied around a mouthful of rabbit.

Allan smiled wistfully. "Robin's a lucky bugger."

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Marion's head rested against his chest as they sat in peaceful silence at the base of a towering oak. His arms were around her, holding her firmly in place, nestled between his bent legs. She couldn't have escaped even if she had wanted to – he wasn't letting her go any time soon.

And she liked that – feeling wanted. She liked it a lot.

A smile flitted to her lips as she heard him sigh contentedly, right next to her ear. The outrush of warm breath so close to her skin sent shivers down her spine, and she snuggled closer. She felt him smile against her neck, lips curving gently upwards in the roguish smirk she could picture so easily in her mind.

She leaned her head back, onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. No words were needed as their eyes met and he leaned in to kiss her.

Then the familiar thrum of an arrow in flight cut through the calm of the night, and Robin screamed.

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