rodlox (rodlox) wrote,

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Robin Hood fic: "Care for a walk?" (mild Djaq/Much)

Title: “Care for a Walk?”

Author: Keenir
Spoilers: Turk Flu, and most other s1 and early s2 episodes about Much, Djaq, and the Holy Land.

Pairing(s): (mild) Djaq/Much

Character(s): Djaq, Much
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: None of them are mine.
Summary: Djaq has changed her mind, and wants to go for a walk with Much. This is mostly (entirely?) from Much’s thoughts and POV.

Author's notes: this was inspired by Gentlemanly Invitations by Old_Blueeyes, who has given me to write a sequel to "Gentlemanly Invitations."

2nd Author’s note: remember, dear reader, that Robin Hood takes place in the 11th/12th century, a time when “Turk” was used to include all the peoples of the Middle East, and when Jews had stereotypes all their own in the European mind.


When Much woke up, Djaq was standing there.

Well, no, not so much standing as crouched, because while he’d know her legs anywhere (not that he looked, mind you), that sort of identification wasn’t necessary. And she was crouching, not kneeling, so he knew it wasn’t as simple as him being in the path of her prayers (not that he would be an impediment).

“Good morning?” he asked. Robin was already gone. In fact, the entire camp felt strangely quiet. Much sniffed, disguising the action as an itchy nose – and didn’t smell any blood nearby, which just went to prove that Djaq wasn’t one of those Heyssessini, which made perfect sense, as Djaq had had numerous opportunities to assassinate both Robin’s gang and the Sheriff, and hadn’t carried out either.

“Very,” Djaq said. She seemed pleased about something, which only made sense, as Djaq could and was very often a very cheerful person in Much’s opinion. And a happy Djaq is a pretty Djaq, even though she’s always pretty, she was prettier than usual when she’s happy. “I was thinking we could go for that walk.”

“W- w- wa- Walk?” Much stammered out.


“You want to go for a walk?”


“With me?”

“Yes.” It was entirely possible that she was playfully teasing him – contrary to ‘what everyone knows,’ the Turk were capable of being more than just hardened warriors with a Jewish tenacity on any topic they favored. Or Djaq was simply drawing pleasure from Much’s startled disbelief at his own luck and good fortune.

Much opened his mouth, not entirely certain of what he was about to say, but before he could say anything one way or the others, memories of yesterday bubbled up to the fore. “I thought you said you didn’t want to go for a walk with me.”

“I thought it over, Much, and I changed my mind,” Djaq said.

Oh. “Oh. Well, that’s all right then,” with no trace of irony or sarcasm, because he didn’t talk like that to Djaq. Under his breath to others, sure, on occasion. But never to Djaq. “That’s what women do – they can do, my father would tell me. So it makes sense, perfect sense, that you changed your mind.”

“Because I’m a woman?” Djaq asked.

“Yes.” Father had also said that foreigners couldn’t make up their minds and hold to a decision, but there was no way in Heaven or Hell that Much was going to repeat that to Djaq. For one thing, he didn’t want to see the look it would engender on Djaq’s face. For another, he suspected and feared he’d end up telling her about how a Teutonic Knight had gutted Much’s father while Much had been attending Robin while the lot of them were on crusade. “And because you’re, well, you’re you.”

That both pleased her and seemed to function as adequate answer, if her expression and posture were any indication, and Much prided himself on being an excellent reader of posture and expression – both Turk and English…though the Germanics and Iberians were always sure to baffle him.

“We’re not going to talk,” Djaq said, holding up one finger, which just happened to be scant inches from Much’s lips.

“I – uh, well, that is – what – I mean I -”

Djaq smiled, then noticed her finger, and pulled it back to her side. “We shall walk. No talking.”

The end

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