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"Dad, I don't want special treatment." Drake muttered with begrudging honesty; every node in his body begged him to lie and plead for forgiveness but he could not be untruthful, his mother had made sure of that when he was young.

"We cannot prove what happened there, nobody can," Guy lowly answered as he shifted forward, "there is no reason for you to die." The pair were seated on a small metalwork bench on the fringe of shade from a small tree in Nottingham castle's courtyard, but they were far from relaxing. Tension was clear but their voices were quiet so as not to attract attention to the conspiracy.

"We cannot pretend it never happened."

"I don't intend to. I will never forget what you did, Drake, and I may never forgive you. But I will not lose you." Was Sherriff Gisborne's blunt sting. The young adult squinted to the sky momentarily, feeling a sear from the floating sun, and ran a hand through his thick raven hair. The injury from his father's words, however, would not dissipate. A fortnight had passed and Drake still felt breathless from the sheer slope he was climbing to redeem himself; yet it all seemed in vain. His only comfort was the solace from knowing Guy did not want him dead, but is that not supposed to be expected from a parent? Their suffocating conversation was interrupted by a swelling of noise from the draw gate as silver skinned defenders scampered over to resolve the commotion. Gisborne rose with a cloud of authority, palm on the hilt of his sword, and waded through guards until reaching the front.

"What is going on here?" his temper bubbled.

"You killed my son!" spat a common looking woman, her chestnut hair swishing before her face as a guard pushed her back from the entrance. Guy rolled his eyes; this was a common episode as men hung for their crimes, diluting any remorse one could feel after tending to Nottingham for nearly thirty years.

"Get her out." He commanded with irritation. A clump of workers obliged, glinting in the afternoon sun, and forced her away from the property.

"How can you kill your own son, you monster?" she shrieked. Gisborne froze in place, his back to her, and locked eyes with Drake. His son from wedlock was instantly interested, and Guy was hot in panic. His flesh could have burned another person. The knot that had twisted up his lungs thieved away air as he worried for Drake's future, or possible lack thereof. He turned to the woman and stared in total stillness.

"Annie." He sighed. With only his hand the Sherriff halted the officers and let her approach him. Gisborne feared he would regret this choice and he was right; she spat directly into his face just before smacking a slightly wrinkled palm across his jaw. This assault put Annie right back into the arms of soldiers, but she did not care, she would die for Seth any day.

"You killed him, Guy, I know it! He never came home and it's all your fault!"

"I did not kill Seth-"

"Liar!"

"I did not kill him, Annie, trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you, Guy? Like how I trusted you to be a father to our son, or how I trusted you to find him a home? Nobody worth living would trust you!"

"Annie, listen to me!" Gisborne began to snap, crushed under the weight of his own choices and inflaming shame. His clear eyes watched behind her as clusters of subjects were floating over and sticking to the gossip unfolding; he was losing everything in an instant. He did not have the courage to see his son Drake's reaction behind him.

"Is he dead, Guy?" Annie questioned with a hardness that had surpassed fury. Dozens of eyes shone down on him like a spotlight.

"He killed himself in the prison cell." Gisborne fibbed with flawless precision; however, a mother always knows. He had fooled everyone except the person that mattered.

"I know you killed him. I know you did, it's all you can do, it's what your life is about. You kill everyone who is not of benefit to you and that's why you wanted him dead since before he was born. You are a killer!"

"I never killed you, now did I? No matter how many reasons you give me." His tongue jabbed at her with a threat, but she let it glide off. What was life without her child?

"I think abandoning me and your child counts as death, doesn't it?" she raised her voice, prompting ever more attention. Annie watched as his eyes swelled and darted in horror at all of the people present to know about his secret, "You want to add me to your list, do it. Kill me like you did Seth. It won't stop them from knowing, I have been to every single village and they all know. Every farmer, every cloth dyer, every child!"

"Dungeon, now!" he screamed at the armored men, nostrils flaring, blood clawing at the walls of his veins. This could not be true, he could not be falling, it could not be the end. Guy tore up the steps into his fortress with the quietest hate Drake had ever witnessed; explosions and obscenities and violence always accompanied his father's temper, but not today. Today he had tipped too far over the edge of reason.

That night, the immobility of the city of Nottingham confirmed Guy's fear. Word was spreading like a rabid and fouling disease, keeping citizens indoors to gossip, and warning them not to leave their homes for the consequence of Gisborne's infamous wrath. Not even the clops of solid hooves hovered in the air outside of the castle. Quiet infused the towering stone building as well and had pushed the father into a brewing depression in solitude. His rage marked the door and disallowed any visitors. Not even the Gisborne family knew how to react; Drake was too confused and feared evolving his anger by misuse of words, Margaret was too young to wrap her head around any problem, and Lacie was caught in a state of terror. She loved her husband with no doubt stepping out from the shadows, but she did know the back of his hand a little too well from trying to intervene. After ensuring the children were in bed, Lacie stood before his door in silence, yet another blank and quiet piece on the board of Nottingham. His wife slipped into the room and became eaten up by the darkness. Only his eyes gave any motion to her and almost ten minutes passed before one of them was brave enough to make any acknowledgments.

"You don't deserve this." Sir Guy of Gisborne, the soldier who had tumbled into tragedy, admitted.

"I am your wife, I take everything you do."

"No, Lace… I meant me. You don't deserve… you don't deserve to be put in this hell with me. Annie was right when she said no real person could love me."

"Oh, Guy, stop it. Your kids love you to the end of the earth; Drake nearly killed himself trying to make you happy and Margaret always wants to go horseback riding with her Daddy. And I like to think I love you plenty." Lacie heard the impatience with her own tone come out as she took a pose, arms akimbo, soul heavy with the insecurity of inferiority. This pit in her stomach was amplified by her husband's abrupt laughter.

"Lacie you are a child. You are beautiful, you are wonderful, and I love you, but you're a child. You are so innocent and so, so naïve… I adore you. But you just don't understand." His sneer was cloaked in the night but they both knew Lacie's imagination had painted it on a banner in her head.

"No, Guy, you don't understand. You don't understand how much we give so you can wallow whilst the rest of us have to carry on. Goodnight." And with that she slammed out, pouring annoyance around the floor on the storm to her chambers. And for the rest of her life, Lacie would regret that this was the last conversation she had with her husband.