Locksley, 1192

Sir Guy of Gisbourne unwrapped the rag he had wound around his finger to stop it from bleeding. He stretched the fabric open, curious to see what could be so special that anyone, even someone as unpredictable and unstable as Hood, would choose to keep hidden in such a fine casket as the one he had found.

Gisbourne sneered in disgust as he viewed the cloth. This was a sample of someone's embroidery, and it was pathetic. It must have been stitched in the dark by a young child, it was so bad. The stitches were large and uneven. There were large knots throughout, and even a drop or two of dried blood which mingled with Gisbourne's fresh blood from his wound.

"Pathetic," sneered Gisbourne, as he tossed the rag into the fire burning in his room.

Locksley, six years prior

"Robin, give it back! Give it to me now!"

Marian was standing on her toes, stretching to reach the piece of embroidery she had been working on before Robin of Locksley had snatched it from her hands and held it high above their heads.

"I'll only give it back if you promise to let me keep it when it's finished."

"Why do you want it? So you can laugh at it and mock my lack of womanly skills?"

Robin gave her his most devilish grin. "You are not lacking in 'womanly skills.' I happen to know that firsthand." He seized her around her waist and tried to kiss her, but Marian was annoyed and jabbed his arm with her embroidery needle.

"Ow! Why did you do that?"

"Robin, you're not treating me with respect!"

"I respect you, Marian! I'm only trying to have some fun. You do remember what 'fun' is, don't you?"

"Grow up."

Robin released her and handed her the cloth. "Here," he said unhappily, "have fun with that."

Marian tossed her head, sank upon a seat, and returned to her sewing. Because she was so irritated with him, her stitches were even more irregular than usual. Robin leaned back against a wooden pillar in Knighton Hall, arms folded across his chest. His face was a study in confused annoyance as he watched her sew.

"Marian," he began, "if you put that away and come with me, I'll teach you how to shoot two arrows at the same time."

"Why? So you can put your arms around me and get me in trouble with my father again for kissing my neck too hard? Isn't that what happened the last time you offered to improve my marksmanship?"

Robin chuckled. "That," he said smugly, "was unavoidable. Your neck was impossible to resist."

"You're the one who should have had to listen to his lectures! I'm the one who bore the shame of being compared to a tavern wench!"

Robin looked ashamed. "Marian, I'm sorry. Is that what this is about?"

"This is about you pestering me when I want to work on something you yourself told me years ago was important. But now, when I try to work on it, you get jealous of my attention being focused on something other than your fascinating self, and try to take it away from me."

"Fine," he said, taking a seat across from her. "You work away. I'll sit here patiently and wait."

There was an awkward pause while Marian stitched and Robin gazed out the window.

At last he said, "Marian, I really meant it when I said I was sorry. You know I didn't mean to …to get so carried away. It won't happen again, I swear. Forgive me?"

Marian jabbed the needle in and out of the cloth with unnecessary force. It wouldn't happen again? She didn't want it to happen again, yet she didn't want it to not happen again. She was so frustrated and confused. She yanked the needle too hard, and the thread snapped.

"Now look what you've made me do!"

She threw the cloth to the floor and burst into angry tears. Robin was on his knees beside her in an instant.

"Hey...hey," he said softly, "it's alright. Shhh. It's fine."

"It isn't fine! I'll never be a fine lady! I'm nothing but a trollop!"

Robin was shocked at her words and her tone. Marian…a trollop? She was still a virgin, with the sweetest, purest heart and mind of anyone he'd ever met.

"Marian," he pleaded,"you are already the finest lady I've ever known. It's my fault you feel this way! I'm sorry…I'm so very, very sorry!"

Lately, their relationship had been growing more and more passionate. Much was recovering from a fever, leaving them plenty of time alone together, and they were beginning to act upon their desires. They were deeply in love and betrothed to be married.

Marian smiled at him through her tears. "It's my fault, too. I should tell you, 'No' more often."

"You should," Robin grinned, "but where would be the fun in that?"

Marian sighed and stared at him hard. Why did he always have to resort to jokes? Just when she thought he was sincerely opening up to her, he would retreat behind his flippant charms. He had never once told her," I love you." They shared a deep emotional bond and she knew he loved her…that he had always loved her. But he never said the words, and she longed to hear them. It was almost as if he were afraid to say them…he, who didn't appear to be afraid of anything. The more physical they became, the less he felt the need to talk, and the more she needed to hear him speak.

"Well," she said, "we're both going to need to calm down."

"I can do it, if you promise to stop being so beautiful, and to stop smelling so heavenly. And," he added with amusement, "it wouldn't hurt for you to carry around that needle."

She blinked away her last remaining tears, and he wiped them gently with the embroidered cloth. He was staring at her with that adoring look he so often gave her, and she felt the look would have to do for now.

"Marian," he said carefully, "would you mind if I really did keep this?"

"Whatever for? It's horrible, Robin."

He laughed. "Yes, it is. But, I think it will help me remember. It's a long time till our wedding, you know."

"You're not serious."

"I am," he said, embarrassed. "It will help, Marian."

Marian couldn't understand. She wondered what he was up to now.

"I suppose you may keep it, though I can't see what good it will do."

Robin knew it would remind him of her tear-filled eyes, and her angry and unjust words against herself.

He folded it lovingly, and then looked back at her with his brightest smile.

"But once we've said our 'I do's,' you'd better look out!"

Locksley, 1192

Gisbourne was disappointed. This box of Hood's didn't contain anything worth saving. Other than the ring, there was nothing but worthless junk. He hadn't learned any of Hood's secrets. But what was this? At last! Gisbourne picked up a roll of parchment, tied with a green ribbon.

Untying it, he found there were several letters here, all addressed to Hood. He gasped when he saw whom they were from! Each and every letter was signed simply, "Your Marian."