Just a short idea that wouldn't go away after seeing "Quite A Common Fairy." Enjoy, and R&R!
Robin sat in the tavern, alone in a crowd of people, as he had for the past five nights. The two men in front of him kept trying to engage in a conversation—"Are you really the Robin Hood who faced the Sheriff? Did you really steal from the Dark One?"—but he ignored them. His son, Roland, still a newborn, was with Little John and his wife. She had taken over the business of nursing the boy graciously, since—
Robin gulped down another swallow of ale to keep the memories at bay. The wound was too raw; the loss too fresh. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back.
He should have expected it, he supposed. Marian had been sick for a while—really sick. Only a small amount of stolen magic had kept her alive long enough to bear Roland. But her death—slow, painful, only moments after holding their son in her arms—still came as a shock. He could still smell the blood, still see her beautiful, tired face as the light faded out of once-vibrant eyes...
Robin held out his arm to get a refill, his sleeve falling slightly to reveal his lion tattoo, a souvenir from his days serving under King Richard. Someone opened the door to the tavern behind him, letting in a slight breeze, but he did not turn around. What was another lost soul in this dark room? Even the fire seemed melancholy.
The door closed again, but he did not hear another pair of footsteps. Had someone lost their nerve? Or had they decided against the pint they had set after?
It was only then that he turned. He saw a flicker of long, black hair—a woman?—and then it was gone. A bolt of curiosity ran through him. He jumped up and ran to the door. Looking down the road, he saw a flash of white dress and a slim figure, but no more.
He almost cried out—"Wait!"—but he held his tongue. It was not his place. He went back into the tavern and to his pint, feeling strangely as though he had lost something when that woman in white ran away.