This could have been the perfect moment with her. Sitting together and finally, actually talking. But as so often happened in their lives together, there was something to complicate it. It wasn't that he didn't trust her enough to share this with her. He just didn't know how, didn't know what she would think of him, and most importantly, he simply didn't want to. Talking about it brought it back, and that was the last thing he wanted.
He also knew right now he couldn't argue with her. She was too determined, and he was too tired. She was willing to stick by him in this, and he loved her for it, he just knew they would never see eye to eye on the reasons why he didn't think she should. Reaching for the iron poker with one hand he took it from her. With his other hand he took hold of hers, lowering it from his cheek.
"He doesn't have power over me," he told her as he stood. "But that doesn't mean I can do what you think I should." He moved around the table, past the ghost, lowering the poker to lean against the wall by the door. As he faced her, the Saracen came forward, standing adjacent to him, much too close for his liking. He crossed his arms subconsciously, avoiding watching him and that smile.
"I know you think I did no wrong, Marian. I also know I was following orders. But that doesn't make it okay. That doesn't mean he wasn't someone with any less right to live than I had. Doesn't mean he didn't have a wife. Children. Family who will never see him again because of me."
And just how many hundreds of times over in the five years of fighting could that same scenario be replayed? It was no secret why the King liked him, why he'd so quickly been made Captain of his guard. A gift, some of them called it. But Robin knew it was a curse, as well.