Okay. So basically, I'm a ridiculously slow writer. And due to this (and possibly the fact that I'm still at school), by the time I've written a few chapters, I find that 6 months has passed and my writing ability has improved hugely. Which therefore leads me to read back old chapters and think that I could do much better. So I'm restarting this story, this time with an actual (gasp) plot in mind. Many apologies.
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Chapter One – Never Underestimate the DevilAllan picked his way through the undergrowth, muttering to himself. Robin might have regained his head recently, after his initial rage at Marian's death but he was still darkened with grief and living with him was like living with a ticking bomb. Needless to say, Allan slipped away as much was physically possible, leaving others to deal with Robin. Taking life seriously wasn't Alan's forte; he was the first to admit that one.
His attention was so entirely fixed on hunting that he almost missed the flash of emerald in his peripheral vision. He could be forgiven, green in a forest was hardly unusual, but that exact shade and shape wasn't quite, well, right. A second look confirmed that. If anything it looked sort of… dress-shaped. And then it moved.
Frowning perplexedly, Allan made his way over to the small clearing where the dress lay, stopping at the edge of the trees.
It wasn't a dress. It was a girl with a head of red curls, wearing an emerald satin dress, lying flat on her back with arms sticking out from her sides at odd angles, staring moodily at the sky. Her features and expression might have placed her at no older that sixteen but an un-gentlemanly look over her form told him twenty at the youngest. Her skin was a stark ivory against the dank leaves of the forest floor and her eyes were a quiet, unsettling green in her otherwise pleasant features.
He spoke loudly, voice breaking the silence in a way that would have made most women jump or scream. "Are you lying in the middle of Sherwood Forest for any particular reason, lady?"
She didn't even flinch, just opened her (rather appealing in Allan's lewd opinion) red mouth to reply in a dry, sarcastic tone. "I was curious."
"About what?"
"Well, I wondered if I stared at the sky long enough whether I could get it to fall down to earth." Her every word dripped sarcasm.
"Come to any conclusions?"
She frowned darkly. "I suppose my results would have to be considered inconclusive, you see, I keep being interrupted."
Allan stifled a laugh, resorting to a large smirk instead. The girl didn't look at him but he saw the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. "Shame." He answered, mockingly.
"It is." She agreed nonchalantly.
They fell silent for what felt to Allan like an age. He twiddled his thumbs, trying to think of something to say to end the silence. Her mouth curved upwards as he grew more and more uncomfortable.
"I'm not being funny or anything." He began suddenly, starting forward to sit languidly at her side. "But that position cannot be good for that dress."
Her eyebrows rose incredulously and she finally moved, propping herself up on her elbows to look directly at him. He noted that she was unfairly good-looking from that angle. Her hair was a rusty golden-red in the dusk sun.
"Really?" She questioned. "That's all you've got? All that thinking and that was what you came up with?"
He scowled at her. "I decided that the most obvious option was best."
She looked as though she was pondering his words for a moment. "Well it definitely was obvious."
He glared, flicking leaves towards her. "Says the girl who can't even answer a straight question."
Her expression was entirely innocent. "What question was that again?"
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
She pouted, bottom lip sticking out in a way that just begged to be kissed. From the way she looked at him, Allan was pretty sure she knew it too. "That wasn't the question, you've altered it." Her evasiveness was childlike. "That should be against the rules."
He draws his knife from its sheath, toying with it experimentally. "I reckon this says I don't have to play by the rules. Just answer the question."
She eyes the blade with something akin to curiosity, as though he had only then finally gained her interest. He realised she wasn't expecting that and he could almost hear the mental cogs whirring in her head as she changed tack. "Isabelle." Her voice was quiet, calm as all childish plays were dropped.
"What are you doing here, Isabelle?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Who?" His voice was sharp with impatience.
"My brother."
He finally got it. It was just another game. Different than before but a game still. This time she answers his questions perfectly whilst telling him absolutely nothing.
His eyes narrowed and she smiled serenely at him. "Who's your brother, Isabelle?"
She grinned. "You wouldn't know him."
He snapped and rolled over her so that she was pinned to the ground with arms held above her head and a knife at her throat. She kept grinning. "Honey, you're not going to hurt me." Her voice was so sickly sweet it was almost painful. "I'm too pretty."
She was entirely right and Allan wasn't sure whether that or the fact that he was intensely ware of her body underneath his was more irritating.
"Maybe." He grins toothily. "But my friends aren't nearly as patient as me. Or as lecherous." He smirked.
Her dark-eyed gaze flickered down the length of his body. "Shame." Her voice was sultry, echoing his earlier mockery.
They stared at each other for a few moments before Allan let out the breath he didn't even realise he was holding and rolled backwards on his haunches, before standing. He held out his hand to help her up, a rare gesture of courteousness. She looked surprised but took it all the same, allowing him to haul her upright.
"Come on."
She didn't move, just looked at him blankly.
"Come on." He said, impatiently.
Isabelle finally moved, taking a hesitant first step before rolling her eyes and following him into the trees. "You know…" she begins, her voice amused and taunting. "You haven't told me your name even though you know mine. Which brings me to the shocking conclusion that your Mother utterly failed in her duty to teach you good manners."
He had already turned most of the way with a retort on his lips when she began to laugh, thin shoulders shaking violently. She reminded him of someone he was sure, with her constant teasing.
"Well, apparently your Mother failed to teach you common sense." He smirked at her apparent confusion.
"Oh? How so?"
"Girl like you alone in Sherwood Forest near nightfall? Bad idea. There's dangerous folk about, this time of day."
She scowled. "I can look after myself."
"Little thing like you? What are you going to do, pout at them?"
Her features brightened devilishly. "No, that's plan B."
"What's plan A?"
"Run very, very fast in the opposite direction."
He couldn't suppress the laugh that followed that statement, foolish as it was. "Is there a plan C?" He asked curiously.
"Naturally."
"And it is?"
"Oh, I sleep with them."
Allan's head snapped to the side, eyes wide as they sought out her face in the dark. Her expression was such a picture of innocence that he wondered for a second whether he had imagined her words, but the telltale quirk at the edge of her mouth informed him otherwise.
"That's…" He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, "…a good plan."
Isabelle just smiled and kept walking behind him.
They walked along in silence from there, the dark night sky setting in properly by then, throwing up an unsettling stillness to the cool air.
"I need to cover your eyes." He said slowly, expecting some form of protest or resentment from her. Instead she merely nodded and stood, stock still, waiting. He untied a loose piece of fabric from his belt and turned her around so she was facing away from him. He raised it to her face and slid the rough material over her eyes, blocking out her sight, before tying it with a crude knot at the back of her head.
Her red curls were soft but the skin of her cheeks was icy and he wondered idly exactly how long she had lain on the forest floor before he had happened upon her. She shivered as a sudden breeze rushed past them.
"Cold?" Her only reply was a scathing look that he thought probably translated vaguely into 'Of course I'm cold you imbecile,' so he shrugs off his cloak and hands it to her.
Apparently she wasn't stupid even if she was proud so she took it from him with a muttered 'thank you' and wrapped it round her form. She looked vulnerable like that; tiny and weak for all her earlier confidence and wit. Allan couldn't quite decide which image was more appealing. (He went with the latter because he had never been the white knight and he somehow doubted that Isabelle had ever been the damsel in distress.)
He was surprised a few minutes later when, after she stumbled trying to follow him blindfolded, she didn't make any form of objection other than childish scowl when he grabbed her by the arm to pull her along at his side instead. He didn't bother being gentle, it was well past dark and the others would be wondering where he had gone. He didn't need to give them any more reason not to trust him, and she was slowing him down.
She tripped again anyway and he has to grab tightly onto her arm to prevent her from falling. She would have bruises in the morning.
"Nearly there." He said, even though he hadn't actually told her where they're going. He was somewhat surprised that she hadn't asked, as well as being confused by her apparent change of demeanour. He paused. "Why are you just letting me drag you off, without questions?"
She laughed at him. "I never said you weren't taking me where I wanted to go."
Allan stopped dead in his tracks. "You don't know where I'm taking you."
Isabelle's smile was smug, self-satisfied. "Of course I do. This is Sherwood Forest and you are quite obviously some kind of criminal otherwise you wouldn't have manhandled a noblewoman and thought to get away with it. And you're clearly not a petty thief or murderer because I'm wearing a blindfold which means that your hiding place is somewhere people are actually bothering to search for. Therefore the only legitimate conclusion I can draw is that you're taking me to the outlaws' camp."
Allan gaped at her. "That is… scary."
Isabelle looked genuinely pleased. "Thank you."
"But why would you want to go to the outlaws camp? You said you were looking for your brother."
"So I did."
"Which would mean that your brother is one of us. But you're noble and none of us are."
"Aren't they?"
Allan began to reply but the words died in his mouth as he finally put two and two together. "Robin is your brother?"
"Bright boy aren't you?" Came the taunting reply. And there it was again, that nagging reminder. Isabelle reminded him of Robin, and now Allan understood why.
"Allan!" Much's voice broke through the trees, making them both jump out of their skins.
"Move." Allan muttered, dragging her along, still wearing the blindfold, until they reached the edge of the camp where Much was waiting.
Much appeared confused. "Who's this?" He looked at Allan questioningly.
Allan's patience was wearing extremely thin. "Really Much? You don't, I dunno, recognise her or anything." He replied, tone scathing.
"Can I take this thing off yet?" Isabelle interrupted, hands scrabbling with the knot at the back of her head. Allan undid it roughly, yanking her curls harshly in the process. She hissed sharply in pain and hit out at him. He barely even felt the feeble blow.
Much appeared frozen to the spot, his face a mask of horror.
"Much? Are you still alive?"
"Isabelle." He croaked weakly.
"How very astute you are." Isabelle quipped. Apparently, even then she couldn't resist the urge to mock. Allan rolled his eyes.
"Oi! Robin!" He yelled out towards the encampment. "Got someone here to see you."
"He's not going to like this." Much whispered.
"No one asked for your opinion, worm." Isabelle's gaze was full of contempt.
Much was taken aback by her aggression; she appeared to have changed hugely since he last saw her, aged twelve. "I'm a free man now. I don't need your permission to speak."
Her expression was livid. "Really? You want to test that theory?" She took a quick step towards him but was interrupted.
Isabelle? Is that you?"
"Robin." She turned to face her brother and made her way over to him. For a moment it looked as though she intended to embrace him, but then there was a sickening crunch as her clenched white fist met his face and blood began to flow freely from his nose. She made as though to hit him again but Allan jumped in, holding her arms behind her back as Tuck pulled Robin away to examine him.
"I'm not trying to be funny or anything." Allan panted as she struggled against him. "But when you said you were looking for your brother you never said anything about wanting to beat the living daylights of him."
"Oh I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that part? My mistake." She hissed from between clenched teeth.
Eventually she slowed her movements and he released her before grabbing hold of her wrist to examine her hand. As he had expected, the marble of her knuckle was split near enough to the bone. "Delicate little thing aren't you?" He said, smirking as he began to clean the wound out.
Her eyes flickered angrily at him. "Some of us don't need to beg or fight to get by."
"Snobby too." He observed, grinning. "See, what strikes me as odd is that you can't seem to stand honest, loyal Much but you treat a lying thief like me like I'm your equal. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.
Isabelle pursed her mouth and looked away as he tied the material he'd used earlier as a blindfold, around her hand. "All done." Allan said, rising. As she still didn't answer he began to pick his way over to the camp.
"You really want to know?" He stopped, turning back to face her. "It's not about blood or social standing even if I am a snob." She grinned suddenly. "I just don't like Much."
He couldn't help but grin back at her. "You know," she began, "you never did tell me your name."
"You hadn't got it by now. I'm Allan."
"Just Allan?"
He raised an eyebrow but bowed exaggeratedly anyway. "Allan A Dale at your service, ma'am. And your's?"
She laughed, but answered mock seriously. "Isabelle of Locksley."
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Cheesy I know, but I had to end it somewhere. Hope you liked!
Please R&R, I love to here anything you have to say. Grammar, structure, even criticism, I'm always looking to improve my work. Please be kind, my feeble little heart can't take flaming but I'm always open to constructive criticism and ideas for where to go with this story.
IceDuchess xxx