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Marian was gone, and Robin couldn't stand it. Every night, he watched her die, held her in his arms as her broken body found peace once again. Every night he cried when he awoke, because he was still alive, still living without her.
3 years had passed, and everyone had moved on. King Richard had died in some foreign land, and was buried there. "Prince", now King, John was corrupting England, one 'shire at a time. The Sheriff had immeasurable power, and used it ruthlessly. Gisborne had taken a wife, a local landowner's daughter. She was fair, and had none of Marian's spark or fire, and Robin knew that Guy despised her for this. He took his guilt out on her, pummelling her fair face and body. She'd borne him a daughter and a son in rapid succession, and now lived in fear of him day and night.
Will and Djaq had stayed in the Holy Land for one year, then returned with twin girls, named Lucy and Jane. All had been well until Jane ran out into the road, not seeing Little John's horse. He'd been unable to stop in time.
After that, Little John had thought himself cursed, only bringing darkness to those he loved. He went deep into the woods alone, not allowing anyone near him. The remaining gang knew he was alive, but he never came near them. He'd said it would be for their own good.
Allan had tried to stay loyal, and on the right(ish) side of the law, but temptation proved too much for him, He'd been hung for robbery, two years after Marian's death.
Robin had borne all this loss and sadness, until finally his old faithful had been stolen from him. Much was walking to Nottingham, minding his own business, when he was set upon by the Sheriff's men. They were delighted to find him alone, without Robin to steer him from trouble. It had been two full weeks before Robin came across a fresh body held in place by a sword through the abdomen. Clearly, they had not killed Much immediately, his body bore the scars of injurious torture.
All these things had taken their toll on Robin – he dreamt of the lost souls nightly; consequently, he found no respite in sleep from what tormented his conscience while awake.
Robin could take no more. After a particularly traumatising recollection of Marian's death, he did what he'd thought about doing all along.
As Robin lay with Guy of Gisborne's sword, taken from Marian's body, through his abdomen, he closed his eyes and waited. The pain was barely noticeable, compared with his heartache. Taking a deep breath, he pulled hard, feeling the slick metal slide against his skin. Darkness pricked at the edge of his vision, and he grew cold. With Marian's name on his lips, Robin of Locksley breathed his last breath.
Yes I Know its short...please review