Hey everyone out there in fanfiction world. First fanfic so no flames please. Also note that this is from Guy's POV and I do not in anyway dislike him. He is my fav character. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the BBC's Robin Hood in any way, shape or form, nor any of the characters. I am making no profit from the creation of this story. I merely felt the urge to write it.
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He had always dreamed of her. Even when he had only just met her, he dreamed of the idea of her. At first it was simply the idea of a pretty, noble wife to increase his prestige within the community, but then he saw glimpses beneath the cold, noblewoman exterior and he was intrigued. Intrigued like he'd never been before. Here was a woman who stood up and found strength in all those things that he considered weaknesses: humanity, compassion, kindness. For her, they made her stand taller, straighter, stronger. For him, they made him feel vulnerable, incompetent, foolish.
What was this power she had and from where did it originate? A stable family perhaps, a happy childhood perhaps, being a woman perhaps? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps it was merely him who was inadequate, lost, alone. Mutilated from all that makes one a human being. What little childhood he had he considers to belong to another person. A person who had a mother who loved them and told them to keep giving. For him, his childhood contained nothing but bitterness and grief. Who was he to claim that he loved her? Why he was everything, power, position, potential! But what did she care of such things, to her they were mere trivialities. How could he possibly be worthy by being weak and vulnerable? Doing so seemed to go against his very nature, but for her he was willing. For her he felt willing to do almost anything. Almost.
She supported the King. He had always had suspicions but he kept them in the back of his mind, hidden under flimsy excuses, constantly defending her against himself. But he could never support a King who was the cause of the downfall of his happiness, his family, his chance of normalcy. And yet he still dreamed of her, dreamed of her loving acquiescence, of her supporting presence, of her raising their children. Children. A word full of tragic promises and unfulfilled dreams. A child which was of both him and her, of their best parts coming together in perfect, beautiful, biological harmony to create a wonder among wonders. A family meant a shred of normalcy, meant love and happiness, meant a chance to repent his sins and to give his children the life he never had. Family. The word laughs bitterly at him now, mocking him with its false hope and sparkling wonder.
Who is he to hope for acceptance, love, support? Who is he to dream of redemption? Who is he to imagine a life without his guilt? Who is he? He is Sir Guy of Gisbourne, lackey to the Sheriff of Nottingham, traitor to the King and murderer of the woman who he claimed to love.
He is truly the worst of all men.