A/N: Hope you like it.

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Robin was dead. Dead, and Will had nothing left. He, for the few precious years of freedom after the tyranny of Nottingham, had once had love. An amazing, deep love that held him together. The man he had once hated - his brother - soothed away that anger and pain with a simple caress. The first one was the most surprising.

"I am your brother, Robin of Locksley!"

Simple words that Robin found so powerful. So affecting. He had drawn Will close, rested his head against his. They fitted together. Like a pair. Molded. Probably, Will had thought once, because they were brothers. It had occurred to him once, that maybe it was wrong. Because they were brothers. But Robin's hand swept across the flat plane of Will's stomach and he shuddered and forgot everything.

Out like a flame. Dead as a doornail. Passed on. Candle in the wind. All those cliches, yet nothing fit for Robin. It seemed like such a simple way to go. Too simple for the leader of the bandits, the prince of the thieves. And here the brother of the prince, whose life was about to fall apart.

Robin was rough and tumble. Even his hair was rough, always. The long bits hung down in the back, the front mussed always. A wild smile always on his lips. Always so optimistic. Sparkling eyes. Warm, rough, tender, gentle hands.

Will was a shadow. His hair fell in his eyes. His smile never charmed like Robin's had. Apparently it charmed Robin, though. That was all that mattered. Almost. He coughed a lot when nervous. Always dirty, and not in the rumpled, manly, scruffy way that Robin did. Skeptical, bitter eyes. Shaking, uncertain hands. Awkward. Fumbling.

Robin loved him. That much Will had to be sure of. It was all he had left, now that Robin had been snuffed out. Like the light of a candle when a bird's wing sweeps by. It just...goes. Goes out. It made no sense. Robin filled a room. Now he was gone and the room - and Will's chest, his lungs, his heart, all deflated and hollow - empty.

Robin's flesh, once so full of warmth, was cold. Clammy. All the cliched words associated with death. He didn't realize how true they were, that cliche came from fact at first. Robin's skin had always been so warm, so scorching that Will wondered if he was cold and frigid. Maybe that's why only his brother loved him. Only Robin kissed him, made his veins boil and steam with heat and want. No woman wanted him. Certainly after he betrayed Robin. No one understood but the one person he had crossed so wholly. His brother. The brother he had grown to hate. Detest, loathe. Many words, all of them meaningless and stupid, stupid. Why hadn't he taken advantage of the time WITH Robin? Now he was gone, gone, gone, gone, and all Will could do was sit and weep.

It sounded so cowardly. And that was what he was, wasn't he? Will Scarlet, the COWARD. What a word, what a horrible, cold, bending word, COWARD. Sneak. Will Scarlet the coward. Wicked coward. Didn't deserve to touch the feet of the prince, but the hands of the prince touched Will. Gently. Rough calluses and strong hands changed to a gentle kind of feeling. Kisses down Will's neck, across his collarbone. Robin breathed deeply, his expanding chest and stomach pressing - skin against skin - against Will. Will took short breaths. Shallow and uneven, especially when Robin brushed against him. Not a sound, not a moan, just short, quick breaths.

Robin had taken a quick breath when he went. Will had been there. A quick breath, their eyes locked and then - nothing.

Will looked back up. Robin was still laying there on his deathbed, the shroud covering his face. Eyes had been closed. Forever.

Will Scarlet, brother of Robin of Locksley, stood and looked down at the body of his only. Simple. Just a knife in the gut. But for whom?

My life has been a poor attempt

To imitate the man

I'm just a living legacy

To the leader of the band