Title: Wasted Beauty
Author: Jammeke
Summary: So here he was – the man he'd been expecting. The man he'd been waiting for, looking nothing like the Robin Hood he'd come to know. Looking like he had not just cut his hair, but pulled it out of his head with his mere hands as well. Maybe he had.
Disclaimer: I own Robin Hood and I made up Kate. *looks at all the people pointing guns at her* All right, all right, I don't and I didn't. Satisfied?
Rating: K+ for swearing and hints of violence.
Author's note: I'm not sure how to label this story. It started out as a silly piece… and then the muse took over and turned it into something far more serious. Basically, this is my attempt at explaining Guy and Robin's haircuts at the beginning of season 3. Because much as Guy's hair sprang to attention, I was shocked by Robin's new look as well. He seemed so rogue and hurt and lost and... let's just get on with the fic.
This story is told from Guy's point of view.
Wasted Beauty
No.
There was no way.
Just no.
When he saw the man stalking around Locksley, acting like he owned the place – which he didn't, damn it, Guy did! – he knew the man's presence should disturb him more than anything.
More than the visions of Marian that plagued him at night; more than the Sheriff's taunting remarks he had to endure every day; more than the itching sand still in his hair, for he hadn't washed it since returning from the Holy Land, and more than the arrow that had embedded itself into the wood above Robin's – no, Guy's bed.
The man currently stalking his estate had mocked him in public countless times. The man currently stalking his estate had tried to kill him on several occasions. The man currently stalking his estate had caused him more nightmares than he cared to admit. The man currently stalking his estate had taken the love of his life away from him.
Yes, it should definitely be the outlaw's presence in his village Guy should be focusing on.
But he didn't. Couldn't.
Sweet mother Mary, mother of Jesu. . . what had the man done?
If anyone had told Guy a minute ago that he would want to see more of Robin Hood, he would have beheaded this person without a second thought. But now. . . he found himself desperately wishing for more of Robin Hood.
Screw not wanting the imbecile's presence on his estate. He craved it. Craved more of the man. There wasn't enough Robin Hood in Locksley. Not nearly enough. The man wasn't complete. Guy wanted more Robin Hood.
Because. . . in the name of everything that was good and holy – and many things beyond that – what had the outlaw done to his hair?
That was not Robin Hood standing in the middle of his village. In fact, it wasn't a man at all. It was half a man. A shell of a man. A broken man. It seemed that, along with his sanity, Robin had decided to dispose of his hair as well, which led Guy back to the term 'imbecile'.
Was there no justice in this world? First, Marian had lost her beautiful flowing hair, and that punishment had hurt Guy's eyes for weeks to follow. Now, Robin appeared to have lost his locks as well. And – to hell with it all, he would forever burn down there anyway – Guy found himself missing them.
Without knowing it, the outlaw had made sure he and Marian had yet another thing in common. Wasted beauty. The Sheriff would probably refer to it as poetic irony. Guy preferred to refer to it as an apocalypse.
For as much as the loss of Marian's hair had bothered Guy, and as much as he had found himself missing her beautiful long locks – she had still been far more beautiful than she had any right to.
And now Robin Hood – an infinite thorn in his side, his sworn enemy, the bane of his existence – had the nerve to show up in Locksley without his hair and challenge him to a fight, looking far more striking than he had any right to.
It was the appeal of death, Guy told himself, as he drew his sword. He craved death. Therefore, he craved Robin's presence – needed so much of the man that the overdose of Robin Hood would prove to be the fatal blow.
So here he was – the man he'd been expecting. The man he'd been waiting for, looking nothing like the Robin Hood he'd come to know. Looking wrong. Looking broken. Looking angry. Looking like he had not just cut his hair, but pulled it out of his head with his mere hands as well.
Maybe he had.
As their blades met, Guy pushed all thoughts about the outlaw from his mind. He could not allow himself to be distracted. He would either die at the hands of Robin Hood, or kill the man and join him in death by stabbing himself afterwards.
At this moment, there was only one thing he was sure of. He would not stab Robin Hood. The man did not deserve to die the same way Marian had. Guy would not give them the satisfaction of having another thing in common. No, Guy would get stabbed. Robin would not.
Planning his own demise was unnerving. But it was not nearly as frustrating as Robin's head. The lack of hair bothered Guy, for reasons he didn't quite understand. Where had the fascination with hair come from? Were his body and mind finally starting to crack under the lack of attention to his own hair?
The battle raged on. At one point, Guy had the presence of mind to grab hold of a young girl and drag her off into the forest. Hood was a hero, was he not? Well, then he could die a hero's death. That, Guy was willing to give him. That, Guy was willing to give the villagers. They wanted a hero? They could get one.
To be fair, Hood didn't look much like a hero right now. Too bent on his own business. Too bent on revenge. He should thank Guy for getting one last chance to shine; one last chance to give up his life for his precious people; one last chance to think he'd done something right in this world. Guy wasn't a ruthless killer; he'd grant the man the last wish he probably didn't even know he had.
As he lifted Robin's body up into the air, Guy paused for a moment – thinking about what he was about to do. He was about to kill Robin Hood. His tormenter. The object of Marian's affections. The reason Guy had lost his mind. The reason Guy would follow him into death shortly after he was finished.
. . . The reason the villagers had been fed over the last two years.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robin's severely ragged strands. The man would never get a chance to grow his hair back if Guy released him now.
Wasted beauty. Wasted beauty. Wasted beauty.
The Sheriff's words rang through his head. Visions of Marian's lovely face floated through his mind.
Wanting for these thoughts to go away, wanting to be left alone, wanting to be done with killing and dying and the trouble that came with it – Guy let out a scream and threw Robin's body over the edge.
He didn't watch him fall down. Didn't need to. Didn't want to.
Robin Hood was dead. Gone. Finished.
Presumably, he'd earned himself a wonderful afterlife. The man was probably gallivanting through heaven with Marian at his side already, Guy thought, as he overpowered the pathetic manservant and made his way out of the clearing.
No one dared to follow him. Just as well. Guy didn't want an audience. He wanted to die alone. Get some well deserved rest. Peace of mind he would probably never know. But peaceful silence was another matter.
Miles into the forest, he came to a halt. This was it. This was the place. Here, it would happen. Near the village he'd lost his parents, his status, his heart – and his mind.
He eyed his sword. It wasn't the sword he'd used to kill Marian. Not only had she taken away his sanity – she'd held onto his sword as well. No matter. He would have no need of it in the afterlife. Guy doubted the weapon would do him much good against the devil, if it was the devil Guy would be fighting in Hell. With his luck, he'd be faced with Robin Hood's evil twin down there.
Just as he raised his sword into the air with his right arm, his eye fell on the tags he was still clutching in his other hand. The little piece of wood was skilfully carved. It was a fine piece of art. Someone had spent a lot of time making it. It was a beautiful – a beautiful. . .
Wasted beauty.
Images of Marian and Robin's hair clouded his vision. Guy shook his head, trying to clear his head of them. But they would not go away. They refused to leave his head. They were taunting him. Mocking him. Laughing at him.
They had died. They were gone. What did it matter that their hair had gone to waste? Their entire bodies had gone to waste. Why could he not stop thinking about their. . . their. . . their hair, of all things?
"Long and flowing. . . Sweet."
He did not want his dying thoughts to be about the Sheriff. He did not want to hear the Sheriff's words in his mind right now. He just couldn't. . . He couldn't. . .
He doubled over and gasped for air.
And then, in a moment of light – in a moment of vision, Guy realized it wasn't their hair he was mourning. It was them. Just them. The two people who'd made him feel so many things he couldn't even name them all. Love, hate, jealousy, envy, admiration. . . sadness.
They had perished. They had died. They had gone. . .
Wasted beauty. Except it wasn't.
None of their beauty had gone to waste. It was still there. In the eyes of the peasants Guy had left standing at the edge. In the minds of the people Robin Hood and Marian had tried to protect. In the hearts of the people of England. Their beauty, Guy realized, as he thought back of the faces of the villagers, the peasants and the townsfolk, lived on in the people they'd fought for.
Damn him, he was getting philosophical. And teary-eyed. Seriously? Perhaps it was the forest air. . . He knew Robin Hood and Marian had spent far too much time in this forest anyway.
Hair.
A metaphor? An euphemism, really. An euphemism for true beauty. Unwavering beauty – beauty that could not go to waste.
Guy snorted. Well, he had enough hair to compensate for the both of them – the two people who were no doubt celebrating their reunion in Heaven right now.
Unconsciously, Guy's hand reached for his unkempt locks. His hair was knotty, dirty and it stank. . . but it was there. Guy still had his hair. Did that mean that Guy still had a chance at beauty?
It would be so laughably easy to join them in death. But Guy wasn't sure he was ready to end his suffering on Earth – he wasn't sure he was ready to face Hell just yet.
Making a decision, Guy threw his sword to the ground. Robin Hood and Marian were dead. Guy was not. Guy was alive. Guy had hair. Lots of it.
He would go back to Nottingham, he would tell the Sheriff he'd killed Robin Hood, he would get what he deserved, one way or another. . . and he would finally get power. The power to do what he wanted to do.
Perhaps, he thought, as he looked at the tags still dangling from his hand, he could use this new power to do other things as well.
But he could not dwell on that just yet.
Wasted beauty.
Robin Hood and Marian had not yet gone to waste.
Well, neither had Guy.
~The end~