A drabble I wrote after watching the episode where Guy of Gisborne met--and lost--Meg. This was written while I listened to Prelude 12-21 by AFI on repeat.
Disclaimer: I own neither Guy or Meg, nor Robin Hood BBC. It would be awesome if I did, though.
She hated men. She hated them, and he knew that. Yet he cradled her, held her, watching as she slowly faded. Her eyes were focused on his face and her breaths were shaky, and she asked him (she asked him) for a kiss, just one, just one kiss.
He didn't want to, he didn't, because then it would be goodbye, and she would be gone, and again he would be alone, lost. He had just found her, and he wouldn't lose her, no, he wouldn't. But she cough and blood gushed out of her side, and he knew, he knew that he had to do it, had to.
So he pressed his lips to her, trembling, and for a moment that void that Marian had left was gone, it was filled. He pulled away and the void emptied again, emptied, and she went limp in his arms.
For the first time in years, he cried.
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