Title: Loss
Author: Jammeke
Rating: K +
Disclaimer: Do I own BBC's Robin Hood? A clue: no.
Summary: Suddenly, you wished, more than anything, that she had not left Gisborne at the altar. Suddenly, you wished she had married him, had given him her love. Because losing her to another would have been more bearable than losing her to death.
Author's Note: I know this has probably been done before, but this is my take on Robin's POV on his relationship with Marian and her death. Spoilers for 2X13 and 3X01, I guess.
Loss
"Fool."
"Grow up."
"You are an utter fool."
Insults.
You could deal with those. Had been dealing with them all your life, would be dealing with them for years to come. Weapons did not hurt you, and words could not hurt you either. For you were Robin Hood, and you were invulnerable.
"I will marry him."
"He has... qualities."
"He's been deprived of love."
"What about me?" you wanted to scream. Had she not been yours to marry before you left for the Holy Land? Did you not have qualities? Had you not been deprived of love? Had you not lost your parents, some of your best friends . . . and now her?
"It's over, Guy."
"I love Robin Hood."
"I love you, my husband."
And suddenly, you wished she had never spoken those words. Suddenly, you wished, more than anything, that she had not left Gisborne at the altar. Suddenly, you wished she had married him, had given him her love.
Because losing her to another would have been more bearable than losing her to death. Because losing her to qualities, and marriage and compassion would have been preferable over hearing her say she loved you. Because her life was worth far more than her love for you.
But you did not realize this until she was gone. And by then, it was already too late. You gained her love by losing her life. And with her life, you also lost your invulnerability. For after all this time, you finally learned how it felt to hurt.
A stab wound to the stomach.
It had not been your blood to spill. It had not been your pain to feel.
And yet, you knew that this hurt would never go away. You knew that you would be hurting for the rest of your life.
And you swore revenge on the man who had caused you your agony. For killing him would ease the pain. Killing him would bring an end to your suffering.
You had to believe that.
You had to hold on to that.
Or you would lose it.
Lose what you had left to lose.
-)X(-