Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood or his merry men, but I do own Brooke and I wish I owned Allan. XD

Prolouge

The heat from the stone oven was stifling in the castle kitchen in the middle of July. Bread browned softly inside the belly of the scorching beast, reminding Brooke of the miserable reason why she endured this torture. Her wheat colored hair stuck to her forehead in ringlets; the rest of her long hair was pulled back by a bandana, keeping it from her face and out of the food that she prepared for the Sheriff. Ugh, the Sheriff. Brooke had been forced to serve in his kitchen ever since he took the place of the last sheriff and turned the shire into a living hell. The only thing that helped Brooke sleep at night under his roof was the thought of sneaking the leftovers and excess to the poor in Nottingham and the Nightwatchman, who would take it to those in need around the shire.

A grin spread across Brooke's soft pink lips as she thought of the irony of it all. The Sheriff, hater of the poor, feeding them without knowing. A soft knock at the kitchen door pulled Brooke's attention away from her thoughts and the vegetables she was slicing.

"Marian," Brooke was glad to see her friend walk through the door with a smile.

"It's suffocating in here," Marian exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. "How can you stand it?"

"I don't get much of a choice, do I?" Brooke cleared a spot on crate or flour for her friend to sit. "I heard your dear friend Robin of Locksley is back in town."

A deep blush worked its way up Marian's cheeks, "If you call scurrying about in the woods back, then yes."

"You will go join him, won't you?" Brooke wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

With a scoff, Marian refused to meet her friend's gaze, "I have my father to think about and besides, we already have our little mission; I don't need to be out there with him, flouncing my rebellion to the world."

"Of course not," Brooke agreed in mock seriousness.

"Don't give me that tone," Marian busied herself with wrapping a few loaves of bread in a cloth, "Robin has chosen his crusade, I have chosen mine. Speaking of which, we have an appointment tonight. Be ready by midnight."

Brooke nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

By the time the last lamps were burnt out and the villagers slept peacefully in their beds, Brooke was ready with a bundle of food tucked under her arm. This was to be like many nights before it; she snuck out of the servants' entrance to meet Marian, AKA the Nightwatchman, by the well in the center of town. From there, they would make their way through the streets, leaving food at the homes of those who needed it. Some nights, Marian just took the food and distributed it among nearby villages; other nights, just Brooke would sneak through the alleyways of Nottingham and deliver the food.

This night however, didn't turn out like all the other nights. Brooke could feel it in her bones as she rounded the corner to the well; something was different. The air seemed to be charged with energy and even the smallest shadows caused her to jump. By the time she reached Marian at the well, her nerves were on edge and her eyes dashed around frantically.

"Are you alright?" Marian asked from behind the mask of the Nightwatchman.

"Something doesn't feel right," Brooke passed the Nightwatchman a bundle of food, "Let's just make this quick."

The first two streets went by flawlessly; the food was deposited without any problems, the families would be fed for one more day. As Brooke laid a loaf of bread and slice of cheese on the window seal of first house on the third street of their endeavors, a movement at the end of the way caught her eye. She looked up to see two soldiers creeping toward them. A glance in the other direction told her that two more soldiers were closing in from that way as well.

"Run!" She shoved the Nightwatchman in the door of a shop across the street before running down a side alley to distract the guards.

Before she could get too far, a hand closed around her arm and yanked her back.

"Not so fast, Missy," a gruff voice filled her ear, "the Sheriff will want to hear about this."