Hello everyone!
I haven't done a long fic in a while- but this idea stole me for a while and so I figured now was a good a time as any to start one up again. This one is a bit different in that is has gasp PLOT! and gasp OCS! and gasp PLOT!
Basically, this is my version of what season 3 should be so SPOILER ALERT for season 2 it picks up a few months after season 2 ended.
In terms of my fics, it can be read after the Fire/Rain fics- basically, I surprised even myself when I didn't bring Will or Djaq back. Still, it is not devoid of my Will/Allan love- but it's more just Allan missing Will. This saddens me very much- but Will doesn't fit in this story.
Some of the characters have changed- but I hope this change is consistent with how people would actually change after season 2- if you think this is not so, let me know. But give it a chance because I like to think the differences are realistic- of course, this could just be me!
Also (as mentioned), this is my first fic which will have an abundance of OCs in it- so i am a brand new OC writer and very much trying to avoid Mary-Sues or just impossibly good people. Trying to make them all interesting- any helpful comments are welcome- pming me is fine if you so desire.
About the title- I was in a VERY strange mood when I picked it out and already it is too long to say. I will actually explain it at the end. Or if you know latin- you can already translate it.
Okay, I am done ridiculously long introduction- I will just say that I hope to update this as much as possible- but grant me some leeway as I am a tad busy.
Volpis Praetigiae
Chapter 1
A few hours ago the comment wouldn't have attracted much notice- maybe a few murmurs of agreement or argument, maybe a slight chuckle from those sitting on the scarred wooden stools, but now ale sloshed into the air as men pounded down their glasses, laughter roared through the room, and one man fell completely off his stool and stayed there because no one bothered to pick him up- even though he was the one who had made the joke. A few of the more sober patrons glanced at the corner before rolling their eyes and returning to their conversation or meal. The tavern's owner didn't even glance up from where he was talking to someone, merely waved a hand at a serving girl to bring the group more ale- wrist flapping lazily as if he didn't care whether they paid or not. Better to just keep them quiet as possible.
This was becoming one of those awful situations where he suspected his younger sister might be right.
His leg jittered uncomfortably under the table and he kept his face firmly in his tankard- not wanting to draw extra attention to himself. But needing to. Or maybe not. He chewed on his bottom him, practically panicking in indecision and uncertainty. This was stupid, he thought, fingers drumming across the table.
"Go to The King's Deer," the old man had told him earlier today, grinning toothlessly at him. "It's in Nottingham- best leave now. Go on!"
He'd almost asked "Why?" when he remembered what he had been trying to do for the previous two days and nodded, glancing around for signs that someone was watching and instead asked: "Who do I meet?"
That's when he began to think that he may have been wrong about his assumption. "Meet?" the man said, wrinkled face forming into a frown of puzzlement. The man took a step away from him as if worried the younger man was somewhat off. "You don't meet anyone- just go have a few drinks. It's a nice place for a first timer like you. If you must meet someone- meet a girl!"
And then the man had walked away, cackling and skipping, stopping a few other people on the way and talking to them. Still, he followed the old man's advice and was now sorely regretting it. He was nearly positive this had all been some kind of joke- but if he left now, his sisters would never let him live it down. He had to at least stay until tomorrow and then maybe lie… that was an even worse idea. Natalie told him he was easily the worst liar she knew.
But, as it was, he had run out of coin and even he could only nurse one drink for so long. It would seem it was another wasted night and he frowned to think that somewhere out there was an old man laughing away at him. Though he supposed he did deserve it for falling for this prank- it was just such a waste of his time.
"Silence!" The man from before shouted, managing to giggle and pull himself upright. His drunken friends actually obeyed and the man's shout was loud enough that the rest of the tavern went silent as well. He seemed to notice he had an audience so he climbed slowly up so he was standing on a chair. "Quiet, gentsies- I have an argee… arguuu… I got somethin' t'say."
More chuckles and Stephen felt himself look up- to be honest, he'd never really been around drunk people before. It was like a different world- grown men acting like… well even more foolish than young children. Or maybe if young children knew crude jokes… he was finding it somewhat amusing and somewhat revolting.
"Edward 'ere says that nobles have it- where's my drink? Wait- I needa drink," someone passed him one and he took a long swig, spilling half of it down his front, before tottering briefly and then continuing his slurred declaration: "Good. Ed says they have it……good. But I-" he paused, bending over to laugh helplessly. "I think they have a terrrrrible, terrrrible life."
There were shouts then- some roaring in agreement, more telling him to sit down and shut up. Stephen glanced towards the more sober section of the tavern- no one seemed to be taking offense at him, most either laughing or ignoring the drunken mob in the corner.
"Nah- serousily," the man continued. "Look at what they're forced to wear- it's… poofy! They jus' go prancin' round lookin' sooooo… stupid!"
"Like daisies!" another drunk man called out and the original man nodded so vigorously he fell off the chair and would have hit the ground except there was a big man underneath him who managed to keep him upright.
"Exactly," he said, leaning into his group as if he were telling a secret, though he didn't lower his voice any. "But here's the quezion… Robsin Hood… 'e was a nobler- does he still dress like a daisy?"
The owner was definitely watching now- not only the man speaking but everyone else in the bar- Robin Hood was not a name to be taken lightly these days. A quick glance told Stephen that no one seemed to be taking an extra interest in the name- hopefully no off duty guards were spending their off hours around here.
"Cause here's the thing," the man continued, oblivious to the sudden alertness of the owner. "I'm myself was thinkin' of joinin' this loyal… crew- but- but, here's the thing… the thing is- I'm not sure, positive, I could put up with tight trousers!"
The laughter really was tremendous then and even Stephen felt a chuckle burst out of him and a quick look showed most of the patrons had had similar reactions. Even the owner had a small smile playing on his lips.
"Nah- serisouly!" the man whined, frowning at the laughter. "Itsa problem!"
Someone shoved him and Stephen jumped to find the man stumbling along with the push into him. He steadied the man and tried to seem at ease when in return the man, leaned over his small table and patted him weakly on the shoulder.
"Thank you," he slurred, head dropping before coming up and meeting his eye where he blinked slowly for a moment. "That was verry nice of you. So whatdaya tink- think?"
"Uh- about what?" he asked, nervously realizing everyone was looking at him.
"About the daisies…es…" the man frowned. "Doya think Robernin wears tight clothing? Cause I dunno if I told you- but I wouldn't do that."
"I'm not sure," Stephen said, hearing laughter and feeling a blush start to work its way up his neck.
"Me neither," the man replied unhappily. "Do ya think I should jus go ask?" He made his question to the other side of the room again and started to stumble towards them but fell back again.
"Like Robin would take you!" A man answered for him and the man stood up angrily.
"I betcha 'e would take me right now! Whatda think?" This time the question was to him again and Stephen squirmed even more uncomfortably.
"Umm… you should probably sober up first," he suggested, trying to be helpful.
"Sober up!" the man cried, leaning closer to Stephen and lowering his voice so only Stephen could hear. "That'sa good idearr, young man- verrygood!"
"Or maybe I already am," the man whispered suddenly, voice devoid of any slur, eyes clear and sharply intent on Stephen's face. "You've been asking about Robin Hood. East Road, Sherwood- Tomorrow. Don't leave right away."
Stephen stared, mouth slightly open at what had just happened and then jumped when the man across from him- very drunk once more- shut it with his finger and snickered, pushing away from him and stumbling back to the corner.
"That is a smart lad, right there," he was saying as he grabbed another ale from someone and seemed to take a long swallow. "I knew a guy jusssssst like 'im once- in London I think… or maybe France…"
And then he was off- telling some drunken story that barely made sense and Stephen was left wondering if all his encounters with Robin Hood's men would be so strange.
Guy originally ignored the call for the gates to open- assuming it was either one of the sheriff's shipments coming in or his guards. Life had been slow- they'd gotten back a few weeks before the outlaws and, as Vaysey put it: "finally got some blasted things done," and then a robbery informed them that the outlaws had made it back from the Holy Land and once again things were working at their customary crawl. There was no way to tell if letters or packages actually got through Sherwood forest but it didn't matter too much as the Sheriff was still struggling to unite and organize the Black Knight. Guy was finding it difficult to care.
Marian. She was still there- everyday, small memories would rise to the surface of his thoughts- sometimes departing before he could fully realize them and just leave him with a sick sense of longing. The white hot anger that had controlled his life for two months had faded into an underlying beast that lashed out at unsuspecting times. Some days he hated her, most days he hated himself, and every day he hated Robin Hood.
But there was nothing to be done about it. Oh, kill Robin Hood- that's what could be done. But no way to do it. He had ridden into the forest, demanding a fight- but no one had answered. And whenever the outlaws broke into the castle, they were always gone before he had a proper chance at murdering the one who murdered his future. So that burning hatred resided underneath his skin and he drifted through his days feelings numb and uninterested.
So he didn't even fully register the commotion at the front gate until a guard greeting him with "Guy- we have a visitor."
He frowned for a moment- the sheriff hadn't mentioned any visitors that Guy could remember and then frowned deeper as he realized this must mean he was being kept out of the loop yet again.
He wiped his face clear of any expression as he went to greet the guest, only to have it re-appear as he walked down the castle steps and saw Nottingham's most recent addition.
The man was a noble. There was really no other way to put it. His dark hair was just the right length to be "swept," his clothes were fine and perfectly fitting, and he was young and Guy guessed that half the population of Nottingham was in love with him already. This was no old doddering fool that Guy could at least mock in his head- this was an aristocratic snob who Guy had no doubt would enjoy snickering over his mistakes with the sheriff and make sure Guy knew was a small country noble he truly was. He could only hope that he wouldn't stay long.
"Welcome to Nottingham," he greeted, attempting to flip his frown into a smile and only half succeeding. The man swung off his horse and tossed the reigns to a servant Guy only now noticed.
"Why, thank you," the man said absentmindedly, waving at guards to unload his horse. They obeyed, Guy noticed- they didn't know him and he didn't even have to speak. He strode up the steps and pulled off his gloves, tossing them over his shoulder as if knowing that his servant would catch them. He did.
"You must be Guy of Gisbourne," he offered, reaching out a hand. It was only after Guy shook it that he realized the polite thing to do was take off his gloves. He bristled- annoyed at himself for forgetting and even more so at the man for being so damned formal.
"And you are?" Guy asked, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice. Surprisingly, the man didn't seem to take any offense- just bowed slightly and answered.
"Lord Martin of… well, Elsberry is the most recent estate. London mostly," Guy nodded- the man's accent matched. From what he knew of visiting nobles- it was the London noble accent that almost everyone of any real importance had.
"You'll be wanting to see the sheriff then," Guy said, turning to lead the way.
"Perhaps a bit later," Martin replied, shrugging and Guy swung back around, surprised.
"But… won't he be expecting you?"
"No, I would be surprised if he was," the man answered, grinning at Guy's confused look. "I didn't exactly send word I was coming- too much of a bother, I find. Besides, I do love springing up on people. To my rooms please, Sir Guy."
Guy hesitated- wondering if he should just let any random man into Nottingham castle. But then again- there was no doubt this man was the epitome of noble and the sheriff would have his head if he accidentally insulted someone important. So he nodded and started leading the man through the long corridors and dark hallways of Nottingham castle.
"So, Sir Guy- what do you think of Nottingham," Martin asked as they started the walk down the hallways. Guy started a bit- at the question and at the tone, which seemed oddly sharper than before, as if the man was actually paying attention to the answer.
"It's a very nice place," Guy answered evenly.
"I see," Martin replied before dropping his voice a pitch lower and continuing. "Doubtless a few things could be changed- but all in all, a very nice place."
"Excuse me?" Guy interrupted, unsure as to whether he was being mocked or told something or meant to reply.
"Oh, forgive me," Martin apologized, waving a hand and glancing away from where he had been staring at the walls to Guy again. "I find I have the inexcusable habit of talking to myself at points. Just ignore me."
Guy nodded, shoulder shifting uncomfortably- the man said ignore him while every part of him was impossible to ignore. He oozed charm and grace and danger. Guy was relieved when they arrived at the room and started to bow his goodbye- then he started as he realized the servant from before had followed them without his notice.
"Who's he?" he asked, indicating the man who was now scurrying about the room tidying things up.
"Oh, this is Peter- personal servant," Martin replied and Guy smirked because he finally had something to wipe that confidence out of the man.
"I'm afraid you will have to be provided with a new servant," he said politely, attempting to hide his eagerness at seeing the man knocked down a peg. "We have a problem with spies- all servants in the castle are hired by the sheriff."
"Spies?" the man tutted. "That was one of those things I was mentioning earlier. But there's no need to worry about Peter- he's been with me for years."
"I have to insist," Guy informed him, smirk dropping at the casual way Martin dismissed his authority.
"He's not a spy," Martin said. "Here- Peter over here." The man obeyed cautiously, keeping his head lowered.
"Peter- you've worked for me… what… 7 years?" The servant nodded and Guy shifted impatiently.
"Are you a spy, Peter?" Martin asked and the man shook his head.
"See, Sir Guy?" Martin asked, turning back to face him completely.
"That's not-" Guy cut off as suddenly Martin twirled and punched the servant across the face, hitting the man hard enough to knock him over and following it up with a kick in the ribs. Guy blinked in shock and then Martin was smiling back at him.
"See what I mean?" Martin asked and Guy could only stare in confusion.
"The man's mute," Martin supplied and Guy now realized what had been off about the whole thing- the man had never made a sound beyond the intake of breath. "He won't be reporting anything to anyone."
"Tongue cut out?" Guy asked, unsure whether to be horrified or impressed.
"Birth defect- I think he's a bit slow too- but he knows how I like things so I keep him around. That alright?"
Guy hesitated and then shrugged- there was no chance of him being a spy and there was something possessive and dangerous lurking in Martin's eyes. Something he didn't feel like letting loose on himself.
"If the sheriff has no objections," he conceded.
"He won't," Martin assured him, grinning confidence back. "Well, would you mind picking me up again in an hour or so? I do have to meet up with Sheriff Vaysey and I believe I'd be terribly lost in this castle."
"My pleasure," Guy answered, bowing slightly. Then he pulled the door close and hovered for a moment, pondering what he had seen. Through the door he heard:
"Well, don't just stand there- I want a bath drawn. And then maybe some food. Clean up the blood before it dries and make sure that doesn't swell- you'll look terrible."
And that's when he decided he should leave.
Allan moaned upon seeing Much enter the camp alone.
"Oh- you've got to be kidding me!" he groaned. "You did not reject that one too. I mean, honestly- do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend to be drunk night after night after night just to whisper two words to some random person! Not bein' funny- but I'm not going again. I refuse."
"Oh, shut up," Much said, swinging into the camp and giving his goose a customary pat on the head. "I highly doubt it's that much work for you."
"It is!" Allan insisted, rolling over in his bunk so he was facing away from Much. "It's extremely rough acting so drunk! And I'm tired! And I want to actually drink next time I go out!"
"Well, you can," Much told him, unbuckling his sword.
"You mean… you picked him? He passed?"
"Yup," Much replied and grinned at Allan's triumphant whoop. Life had been different at the camp and while Much missed Djaq and Will and Robin- he couldn't say that he might be somewhat happier in this arrangement.
The first few months after the Holy Land had been bleak- everyone dealing with their own losses. Robin loosing Marian, Allan loosing Will, and Much loosing Robin- for while the leader was still physically there, he was more absent than he had ever been. Gradually though, it was realized they were still together- or at least Much and Allan had, and Much was surprised at how close he and the poacher had become.
At first it had just been realizing the other shared the same pain- a kind of empathy that drew them together. And then both had realized there was work to be done and they set about to doing it. Together. As equals.
It was decided late one night after a rough battle, that the gang simply couldn't be only 4 people. It was too hard to do drop offs, too dangerous to do battle, too thin to implement any proper plans. They simply didn't know enough anymore- and as their outreach spread to include more surrounding villages, they realized they didn't have time to keep constant tabs on Nottingham and the sheriff.
"Organization," Allan had said one night when he and Much were out hunting. "We need a network or else we just won't be able to catch everything."
And so Allan had set about to getting it done. Carefully and slowly. Having once betrayed the gang, Allan was now almost fanatical in how close he checked all his contacts out. Much didn't know the details or how Allan, once on Guy's side, managed to convince people to talk only to him- but gradually more and more connections were being made and more and more tips were flowing in.
Eventually, it was also decided that they did need a few more actual gang members and Much was surprised to see that process handed over to him. Allan screened the people and made contact with them, and Much went out and met them and made sure they "were the right fit." And so the new dynamic of the gang was created: Allan in charge of "the network," Much in charge of the camp. Robin still did all their tactical maneuvers and made the big decisions- but he didn't seem to care about the day to day running of anything else. Maybe he didn't care about anything else at all.
"Well then where is he?" Allan asked, rolling back over and glancing around the camp.
"We have to go pick him up tomorrow," Much told him.
"Pick him up?" Allan mumbled, starting to fall back asleep. Much winced a little- he had a feeling Allan wasn't going to like this.
"At his house. He had to say goodbye to his family first. And apparently they want to meet us."
"What?" Allan cried, sitting up in his bed. "He has a family? We have to meet them?"
"I know it's weird," Much said, trying to calm Allan down. "But he's young- he can't just run off."
"Then what's he joining the gang for?!" Much could almost see Allan running down his contacts and deciding who should have told him this information.
"He says he believes it's the right thing to do. His farm is running fine without him. Feels useless there."
"Martha," Allan growled. "She would have known about this."
"She probably knew you'd react like this," Much said mildly.
"Well, yeah!" Allan said, getting out of bed. "It's completely ridiculous- dragging a kid away from his home!"
Much shrugged and Allan grabbed a handful of seeds from the bag they kept.
"Wait a minute," Allan said, spinning around and sending seeds leaking out of his fist. "Why on earth did you let him join!?"
"He deserves a chance, Allan," Much said as he watched Allan drop the seeds in with the pigeon. He finally said what they both knew. "And we need a carpenter- the traps are falling apart and the camp needs some work."
Allan stared at the pigeon a while longer, watching it eat the seed that Allan gave it faithfully every morning and night. Much could almost sense the thought flying through his head: We could always bring back Will. Much didn't say anything, just waited until Allan turned around, not quite able to pull off a smile.
"You're crazy," Allan told him but didn't question his say in the matter and Much smiled his thanks.
"You going back to bed?" Much asked, aware that Allan didn't get in until early this morning. The man was devoted to his network- sometimes Much had to step in to get him to rest properly. It was almost like what he did for Robin, except Allan forced him back into bed when he needed it as well. Much felt he meant something to the gang other than mother now- and though he missed the old days with him and Robin more than he let himself think about, the newfound partnership was something he cherished.
"Nah," Allan said and faded off and Much knew it was partly in thanks to the mention of Will. You didn't think about how things were- but moments still snuck up on you, Much knew, and they took some recovering from. Much only hoped that having a new carpenter around wouldn't be a constant reminder to Allan of who was not here.
"I've got some people I need to see- check out this family too if we're gonna go over there," Allan began again abruptly and Much would have told him to get some rest first except he didn't have the heart. So he nodded silently and Allan nodded his thanks.
"John and Robernin are hunting," Allan told him.
"Be back before dinner," Much replied and Allan nodded- not in a mocking way that made Much feel stupid, but in a way that showed respect for the care Much took in feeding everyone and gratitude for Much having it ready.
Allan started walking away before Much stopped him.
"Robernin?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"New one I made up last night," Allan supplied without turning, waving a hand in the air. "I rather like it."
The camp was different, and still oddly empty at times- but they were doing more than just getting by- they were healing. Slowly and probably never completely- but the outlaws were recovering and Much thought that was the thing that mattered.
End Chapter 1.
I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!
