AN: so I was going through my old laptop and I found a bunch of old Robin Hood fics because I was, you know, cool. So here! I'm uploading them all (slowly) It'd be great if I could get some feedback ~ you know, just so I know if there's anyone out there still reading this stuff! Sorry if there are any formatting issues or spelling errors, this is unbeta'd and copied over from my ipad so idk.
Anyway, this'll get slashy because I basically ship Guy/Happiness and since Allan is dead... this is AU evidently and it'll get dark. Real dark. So grab a torch and a safety blanket!
Also I'm a lit student not a history student so sorry for any historical inaccuracies (not that Robin Hood was very historical accurate) and i havent seen the show in a while so sorry if there are any details I get wrong.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
He comes to her at night, sneaks in to Locksley Manor an stands over like some demon drawn up from the depths of hell. Her hand goes immediately to the blade under her pillow but he giggles - the kind of giggle that chills her to the core - and suddenly there's a sword to her throat.
"You're much better prepared than your brother, aren't you?" The Sheriff (ex-sheriff her mind corrects) says, using the blade to turn her head slightly. "Not as pretty though."
Something inside her trembles at the undercurrent of his words. "You're dead," she says as steadily as possible.
He grins, there's a glint of gold in his smile. "Didn't stick, sweetheart."
She quirks an eyebrow, breathing steady now. If he'd wanted her dead she would be by now, he wants something and Isabella would be lying if she said she wasn't interested. "Evidently."
"I hear your brother escaped," he says, his sword gently running down the length of her throat. "A pity."
"It was all down to Hood," she snarls at the memory. She had been so close.
"Yes, yes, my man told me everything, believe me, dear. Now, the thing is your dearest brother did something very unkind to me and I would very much like to make him pay."
No, Isabella thinks. No. He's hers. Hers to kill. He sold her to a sadist knowing full well what he'd do to her, her own brother. Her only family. Vaisey must see a flicker of this in her eyes because he smirks. "Oh, of course I understand that you will be the one to end his miserable existence and I wouldn't miss that for the world. All I ask is that you give me the opportunity to make him scream a while before you do that."
Isabella cocks her head. "I'm listening."
"Excellent," he purrs. "Now, here's the plan..."
Robin watches the smoke billow out across the forest from Nottingham, well from where the remnants of Nottingham stand. He's fairly sure the explosion took out the entirety of the castle and probably most of the upper town. Prince John is going to be pissed. Then again he thinks even the king is going to be a little upset that they've blown up one of his fair country's cities.
He can hear the low rumble of voices, the villagers and citizens of Nottingham are celebrating in Locksley. His beloved Locksley. He should probably be down there with them, at least making an effort. He rubs absently at the cut on his neck, Isabella must have lied about the poison because he's still alive and kicking. (Allan isn't, Gisborne isn't) it doesn't feel right. They've killed the Sheriff, Isabella. They've saved the town by destroying it.
It's a hollow victory, their glorious final stand, but he supposes it will do. Tomorrow he'll go back to being Robin Hood, he and Much and Kate and John and Archer (if he doesn't change his mind and run out on them again) will start rebuilding Nottingham until Prince John arrives of course. Then they'll have to work on getting King Richard free - if that's even true. He really hopes it isn't.
For now he's content to sit atop this hill and watch the city burn.
He's pulled out if brooding by Tuck dropping himself down to crouch beside him. "How's your neck?" The friar asks, reaching out to check the bandage.
"Fine," Robin grumbles, leaning away from Tuck's outstretched hand.
Tuck drops his hand and cocks his head, "You know there was nothing you could have done to change what happened today. Allan's death was not your fault." Sometimes Robin hates that Tuck is so astute.
"But it is," he says, tearing up a patch of grass. "If we'd just believed him..." If he'd been with them, if they hadn't left him there for Vaisey. Bloody Vaisey. And now their true betrayer, Robin's own brother, celebrated with the others down the hill.
"You weren't to know Isabella had lied. None of us believed him. In fact it would have been irresponsible to allow him to accompany us without knowing for sure." Tuck says firmly. "And who's to say that he wouldn't have fallen in the battle anyway?"
"Yeah but..."
"You were a soldier, yes? You know better than most that in battle we must sometimes make hard decisions, you must have lost men before."
Robin flinches slightly at the sudden onslaught of memories, sand and swords and arrows and blood. He twists out another clump of grass and shreds it slowly. "They're not soldiers." He grits out.
Tuck smiles in that sad, wise way of his. "But we are, Robin. We're fighting a war against Prince John, for England, for the people. We all followed you knowing full well that we might not survive. Allan would not want you to blame yourself."
Actually, Robin reflects, Allan probably would. If he'd survived he'd be guilt tripping everyone. Robin smiles a little at that thought, tries to hide it from Tuck. "It's not just Allan." He says tiredly.
"Gisborne?"
"Yeah."
Tuck makes a sympathetic noise. "A few months ago you would have celebrated his death." He says calmly.
Robin blanches. It sounds so cold laid out like that. But Gisborne killed Marian, killed countless others. The man deserved death and there were times, so many times when he wanted to kill the man himself. But he wouldn't have celebrated. (At least he hopes he wouldn't.) He sighs. "Maybe I would have."
"What changed? Just because you share a brother doesn't wipe his slate clean."
"I know," Robin mutters. "I guess I just never thought of him as a human being before. I never thought - He died protecting me." He's told Tuck all about what happened when he was a kid, what happened when he met his father again (he hadn't wanted to - he hadn't even told Much all of it - but Tuck just had this way about him.)
"Well then, at least he died for something good."
"I should have done better by him. When he left Locksley, I should have... Stood up for him or something." He thinks back to that night with the arrow, Gisborne could have hung that day at fifteen for something Robin had done. Thinks back to Guy and Isabella, heads bowed, traipsing out of the village, their home.
"What could you have done?" Tuck asks. "You were just a boy, you'd just lost your father, you had bigger things to worry about."
"I know but..."
"Robin," Tuck says kindly. "You could spend an age thinking about what you could have done and it would destroy you. You told me once that Gisborne blamed himself for the death of his parents and of your father. Do you not think that had some effect on the person he grew up to be?" Tuck put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "When we met you thought your life had ended because of your grief, your loss and he did to. Yet look at what you accomplished by move ping forwards. Do not let your grief define you Robin, you are still needed here. We all lost Allan too, you're not alone."
It shouldn't make him feel better but it does because Tuck is right, Tuck is always right. He shoots Tuck a weak smile and Tuck grins back easily, "Come on, Robin. Come celebrate, tomorrow we'll have a lot of work to do, besides I think Much might die of anxiety if you don't come and join us soon."
As he stands he extends a hand. "Come on, Robin," he says again. "For Much."
Robin smiles, takes his hand. "For Much," he agrees.
Archer stays with them for almost a week. Robin can see him building up to it, the boy looks like he's crawling out of his skin. He helps them rebuild the upper town in Nottingham though Prince John's men turn up after a few days and Robin and his gang head back to the forest. Business as usual. They rob a few of Prince John's men, and they give Allan a proper funeral. Its easy, slipping back in to it even if the camp is a little too quiet, a little too empty.
He catches Archer leaving in the middle of the night, grabs him by the arm and leads him away from the camp where the others are sleeping. "What the hell?" He spits, eyes narrowed.
Archer's eyes are wide and shiny in the dark, "I just can't stay here Robin, alright? I can't."
"Why not?" He demands.
"It's not me, okay? I'm trying, right? But it just isn't. I don't like staying in one place too long and all I keep thinking about is that if this is happening here what about other towns? Like York? What about the people there? I don't deserve to be here Robin, I'm not a hero."
"You're my brother."
"I got Guy killed. I told Isabella about the tunnel. This is something I need to do, Robin. I'll come back, I promise."
In the end Robin lets him go, he's fairly sure he'll never see Archer again and he really has no idea how it makes him feel. He knows Archer will be okay though, hopes he's made his little brother a better person. His father would understand, he thinks.
The next week they meet (rob) a nobleman who's travelled to Nottingham from York. He sighs when Robin and his gang ambush him, "Again? You already took ten percent on the road from York!"
Kate catches his eye and smiles, "Archer?" She mouths.
Robin grins.
When Guy wakes up he's sure he's dead.
He can't breathe and his head is pounding and he's cold and he's hot and god, he hurts. He gasps and he splutters and he thinks he can hear voices somewhere above him - laughing, whispering,
There's a hand on his forehead.
It slides down and twists in his hair, yanks.
He thinks he might yelp.
Someone laughs.
No. It can't be him.
It can't be.
Robin would have killed him.
Maybe he is dead. Maybe this hell.
He thought he was free.
"Stop whining, Gisborne and open your eyes." Vaisey says