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Dreams. How they haunted him. In those fleeting moments of peace and respite, he could be with her, his only love.

Guy both hated and loved his dreams, for in them Marian appeared, smiling and sweet and everything that he was not. In his mind her shining visage held only love for him as she allowed him to taste the sweet nectar of her lips. But no. It had not been him sampling her ambrosia beneath the leafy canopy, but none other than Robin. The man that stood for everything he was not, had the heart of the one woman whom Guy cherished more than any amount of wealth or position. And that was how he awoke, the faint memory of holding Marian safe in his arms, followed swiftly with the crushing reality that she had lied to him. Betrayal. How it cut like a knife, twisting and digging relentlessly until it met the flimsy barrier erected around his heart and slashed it to pieces.

Broken and bitter, Guy propped himself up so that his right elbow rested on the hard forest floor. It had been two days since he left the camp. Two days since he had seen his beloved encased in Robin's embrace. Rubbing the small amount of grit from his eyes, he gave a rumbling groan as he placed his feet beneath himself and quickly stood up. In an awfully sour mood, he grabbed his provisions and continued on his way, feeling unnaturally angry at the soft chirping that surrounded him.

Time wore on, but regardless of his sore legs and bruised heart, Guy of Gisborne trudged along the Great North Road until the quiet chatter of people broke through the endless buzz of rustling leaves and the overly loud Sparrows. Hitching his pack higher up his back, Guy stared through the dense trees and saw the village of Clun, the furthest village from Nottingham. Wary to show his face because of previous misdeeds, but in dire need of water and supplies, Guy gave a defeated sigh and pulled the hood of his cloak up so that it rested on the ebony strands of his hair.

Treading out from the undergrowth and into the village, he visited the small market to trade for much needed water. Reluctantly he handed his flask to the town water supplier. A tired mother, not more than the age of twenty, filled it to the brim while her small children ran around her ankles, tugging at her skirt. Her gaunt features betrayed how little she had had to eat these past weeks, and Guy knew that with the rising taxes, few were ever able to fully feed their families. Stray hairs brushed her cheeks and small, calloused fingertips pushed them behind her ears.

From beneath his shadowy hood, Guy's blue eyes took in all of this and more. It had been a hard spring for the people in Clun. Startled out of his thoughts by the corking of his flask, Guy reached into his pack and pulled out two pieces of silver and a chunk of bread, exchanging them for the small service she had rendered by giving him water. Turning back to the forest an audible gasp reached his ears, and the exhausted woman called to him.

"Sir! Please, this is too much...I cannot accept it." Her voice had a slight rasp to it, and in her open palm lay the two precious coins and the bread, held away from her body as though if it were any closer it would infect.

Wincing at having been called back, Guy shut his eyes and pivoted so that he faced her and her children. Face still lost in the shadows of the cloak, the woman only saw his mouth move in reply.

"Keep it." Guy said gruffly. "Keep it and feed your family."

Slowly tears welled up in her eyes and she clasped the coins tightly. Quietly and gratefully she stared at him.

"God bless you Sir. God bless you."

Unaccustomed to this type of response when he came into town, Guy frowned but curtly nodded his head towards her before walking back into the cover of the foliage. On his way once more, he lost himself in thought.

Recalling his encounter in Clun, he remembered a growing, warm sensation that had spread throughout his abdomen as he had been exceedingly generous towards that woman. Sure, now he was short on money, but to see the look on her face as she realized that he was being kind...Well that sort of thing could become addictive. Suddenly from within the recesses of his mind, the snivelling voice of Vasey echoed, reprimanding him for becoming soft with the peasants, only to be replaced with Marian's melodic voice, fiercely defending the people. Remembering her voice call to him as she stood up for what she believed to be justice caused his heart some pain. Why deny it? He loved her, but now he would run from her, uncaring as to whither the wind blew him, just as long as it was far away from the agonizing memories of her smile.

As the scene of the witnessed kiss played over and over again in his mind, repeatedly he saw that when Marian had noticed him, her face had noticeably paled. Sick satisfaction coursed through his veins as he imagined her feeling the dreaded weight of guilt on her shoulders. Obviously, his seeing their "tender moment" had not been in her plans before she announced to him her engagement to the one Englishman that he hated. No, he thought scornfully, let her bear the heavy burden of all of her white lies and pretenses alone, for she deserved it, stringing him along only to obliterate his dreams.

Unfortunately for Guy, for all of his vindictive thoughts directed at her and Robin, a large part of him missed her. He missed her smile, her laugh, and her passion for helping those less fortunate than herself.

So engrossed was he in his thoughts of Marian, than he barely registered the whinnies and galloping of horses around the next corner. Too late was he in moving off the great road, that instantly, Guy was face-to-face with the Sheriff's rumbling carriage and a dozen guards.

Sharp, gleaming swords were unsheathed as they surrounded him. Guy slowly brought his arms up, held in mock surrender, as one of the bumbling guardsmen searched his pack. Pulling out the rest of Guy's bread, the officer bit off a large piece and started chewing noisily. Guy grit his teeth together, seething, as he watched the guard continue to rummage through all of his food, discarding it wastefully upon the ground. Mocking laughter softly permeated the air as the rest of the guards enjoyed this demoralizing display of cruelty. But It was only when the empty pack was tossed at his feet that Guy lost his patience.

Snarling, Guy rushed at the commanding officer, knocking him off his feet and slammed him to the hard, unforgiving ground. Pulling his own wicked blade from his side, Guy brought it so the tip rested against the uncovered throat of the man. Bending low so that the frightened guard could hear him, Guy whispered, "That was my food."

As he stood there, the other guards, confused at this sudden turn of events, jumped into action, and all of them yelling, circled Guy with their weapons. From underneath him, the leading officer smiled triumphantly up at Guy.

"Throw down your weapon, we have you surrounded." Came the man's satisfied voice.

Guy smirked. "This time." He finished ominously. Scratching the officer's throat with his sword so that tiny droplets of crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, Guy calmly stepped back and flung his weapon the the earth. Furious, the guard pressed his palm to his wound and ordered the others to tie Guy's hands.

Walking over the the side of the forgotten carriage, the commanding officer knocked on the door.

"My Lady Sheriff, we have a miscreant here that personally attacked me. What would you have me do with him?"

A soft click of the door, and Guy saw long brown hair crowning a very familiar face. She critically looked him over with raised eyebrows before turning back to her guard.

"Bring him to the castle. We've had some empty cells in the dungeon as of late."

"Isabella.." Guy growled warningly.

Innocently, Isabella met his eyes as she responded. "May I remind you brother that here I'm the one who's in charge, not you. Not anymore."

Glancing back to her men, she gave her orders in an authoritative shout. "My brother is to accompany us back to the castle!" Pivoting on her heel, her skirts brushed the ground as she started stepping back into the carriage. Right before the door closed behind her, her head snapped back to face the guards. Thoughtfully, she eyed her brother with obvious distaste before giving another order.

"But, just because he is my relation, does not entitle him to any comfort. Hook his ropes the the back of the carriage...it looks like he could use some exercise." Now fully satisfied, the Sheriff of Nottingham coldly smirked and closed the wooden door behind her.

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