A/N: Welcome to a blast from my past. While I might be locked out of my old, untainted, less cynical account from my youth, I won't let that stop me from posting a new story from my original fandom: Robin Hood BBC. I've linked my old account in this account's profile for all my old stories about Guy and his dead (and A/U) wife Catrine.
Here is her return from the dead. A/U, and within the "Hero's Prologue" world created by LaCaterina (me). Takes place immediately after Season 1 finale. Please read AND review.
Dawn crept over the hills of Locksley, quiet and rosy. But as much as peace filled the stillness as birds began to trill, Guy's heart and mind were as far from peaceful as they could be. Jilted, punched and left at the altar. His face slid off his hand as he opened his sleepy eyes to the light, knocking the pewter tankard to the floor of the manor and sloshing the dank stench of ale across the table where he sat. He wasn't still drunk, but he certainly wasn't sober and clear of mind. Partly the drink, partly the exhaustion, but mostly the sleeplessness only his demons of loss, grief and violence could cause. The light piercing into his brooding darkness as he licked his wounds angered him. Staggering up from his seat by the hearth, he tripped and slurred his way to the window, determined to slam the shutter closed on the world.
But that's when he noticed a commotion in the sheep pen. A blur of motion, a flicker of gold, and the bleating of sheep beginning to drown out the birdsong.
Guy cursed aloud to the empty room as he hoisted up his belt and made his way out the manor. Hopefully it wasn't anything too dangerous stirring the fold at this hour. His hand grasped where his hilt should have been, and he cursed again. In his dazed stupor, he had left that trusted weapon by the embers of the fire.
The dumb animals scattered away from him as he approached the fence. That flicker of gold drew closer, and from the blurring of his eyes, he realized it was a person. A woman in golden yellow dress climbing over the rickety beams of the fence, her back to him. He ground his teeth. Surely not her. Come to simper and say she had seen the error of her ways to ask for his pardon. Damn her.
No. The woman turned slowly as the sheep dispersed around her, the streaks of dawn just beginning to catch the golden locks of her hair.
Not Marian for certain, Guy breathed as he released his clenching jaw.
But then she turned. That face that looked at him with intelligence and cunning. Those eyes that flashed over him in their keen dark sharpness. Those lips that parted in surprise as their gazes locked.
"Guy," she whispered. That voice sent shivers to his boots. A voice from the dead.
Guy forced himself to swallow. "Catrine," he replied.