Marian had to save Robert.
She loved him.
Nothing could stop her.
Sarah and Marian dashed through the thick trees of Sherwood to get back to Nottingham, hoping to get there before...
Sarah said that they would be dead. Her eyes had turned completely grey, and that had never happened since Marian had known her. It frightened her, because Sarah's predictions were almost never wrong. She had grown up trusting Sarah, from the time she was only a bairn, and had never questioned her visions.
Until now.
Robert couldn't die. She wouldn't let it. Fate would not do that to her.
Fate could not do that to her.
The royal guards had not charged.
Robert had led the thieves of Sherwood into an attack on the guards, preparing for a fierce battle, but the guards had not moved.
Instead, a trumpet sounded.
Everyone paused.
They turned and looked.
Guards surrounded a figure dressed in black. He was impressive as he moved through the awe-struck outlaws. No one dared attack him. No one dared move. Until he came to the front of the crowd, and stood, hands behind his back, feet spread...in front of the man.
The man who was his son.
"Robert," the intense man said, "What do you think thou art doing?"
Robert breathed heavily, perspiration gathering on his upper lid and forehead. He feared that if he spoke, he would kill his father with all the rage that was kept inside of him. He feared that it would spill out...onto all the guards surrounding him. And then he would spill out. He couldn't let that happen.
"Just what I thought," The Sheriff said, moving closer to Robert, "Thou knows not what tha does."
"Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do..." sang Tuck softly, who stood near Robert, on the other side of Scarlet. He then looked at his friend, and whispered, "I fear there will be no forgiveness tonight."
"Why did you come back, Robert?" he asked, bringing one gloved hand up to stroke his beard thoughtfully, "Was it for the girl? Marian?"
Silence from Robert.
"Dost thou love her? Like I thought?"
Robert's jaw clenched.
"Does she love thee?"
He looked away, his eyes pained and furious.
"Tis a pity," The Sheriff said, circling Robert now, "That she won't be here to see thee die..."
"Thou art a coward," Robert spat, "Thee won't kill me."
"Art thou so sure, Robert?" The Sheriff said, taking a crossbow from a nearby guard, and stringing it as he talked, "I have killed children in the past, but I've never thought of killing my own."
Robert looked to Much and John for help, but they were held at bay by the points of spears.
"You have taken the good Loxley name and turned it into a hellish, foul word," The Sheriff continued, coming so close, that Robert could smell the stench of him, "I hate you for that."
"Not as much as I hate you," muttered Robert before he lifted his sword to plunge it into his father. But then he felt a slight pressure on his neck...a sword belonging to one of the guards.
"No so smart there, dear Robert," The Sheriff said, watching as Robert dropped his sword.
He was surrendering.
The Sheriff took aim.
"ROBERT!" came a cry from behind him, and he closed his eyes, praying...
"Robert!" Marian shouted, trying to get past some guards, but she was too weak, too drained of her energy to fight harder. Tears streamed from her eyes. An older masked woman ran up behind her and shouted, "Robert!"
The Sheriff squinted at them, and then turned back to Robert, whispering in his ear, "Maybe she will be here to see you die too." He nodded to the guards to let Marian through, and Marian stumbled over to Robert's side. She gripped his arm protectively, all the while, glaring at the Sheriff.
"If tha must kill him, tha will have a riot on thy hands..."
"If I kill all of thee, there will be no one to lead the riot," the Sheriff said, and as if on cue, the guards all pointed their swords and staffs at the surrounding outlaws' chests, preparing to kill. Tuck began saying a prayer, and Scarlet joined in, and so did Much, John, though he did not know many of the lines, and Christine from behind the tall guards.
While the mumbled prayers continued, Marian turned and looked up into Robert's ice-blue eyes. She could not fathom how much pain lay inside them. He had risked his life to save her, and she could do nothing in return now. How stupid she had been to rush out in the middle of all of the chaos. Marian reached her hand to brush away a loose strand of hair away from his face. Robert caught her hand and brought it to rest on his chest, just above his pounding heart. Without words, they understood that their love was so great, that nothing could kill it.
They embraced, and slowly their lips met for the first time. Even though they knew their existence did not matter, they knew that their love did. Robert could not contain the rapid beating of his heart, or the force that consumed his soul. He loved this woman. And Marian knew that her heart would forever belong to this man, Robert.
Suddenly, the guards pulled them away from each other, and forced Robert to go onto his knees, his hands quickly bound behind his back. Robert glared at his father, who also stared back at him with contempt.
"Now Robert," The Sheriff said, pacing a little, "I have been kind enough to let thee and thy love share one last embrace. And now prepare to have thy heart torn out..." The Sheriff took aim with the crossbow, "Farewell."
And he turned and shot Marian.
Or he would have, if Christine had not stepped into the arrow's path.
Robert and Marian screamed in anguish.
There was silence as Christine slumped backwards into Marian's arms and crumpled to the ground. The Sheriff stared at Robert fighting against the guards, smirking to himself. He silently retreated through the crowd, ordering the guards to follow suite. They knew no one would dare start a riot. There was too much power in the Sheriff's hands.
Everyone stared at the two women in the mud.
"Cut me loose," he ordered Scarlet. Scarlet complied, watching Robert crawl over to Chritine's immobile body. She was still breathing, though faintly. Marian gathered her in her arms, and sat in the in the mud hopelessly, while Robert looked into her face, paralyzed with shock.
"Marian..." Christine whispered.
"Shh..." she whispered back, trying to keep strong. Christine turned her gaze from her to the arrow protruding from her chest. It was silver-tipped. She reached her hand and touched it tenderly, wincing with pain. Marian gripped her bloddy hand tightly.
Marian knew she was going to die from the look on her face.
Christine let go of Marian's hand for a moment to weakly untie the leather thong that secured the mask she wore to her head. She dropped it, and looked up into Marian's eyes, which glowed for a moment with recognition.
"Marian," Christine began again.
"I think I've always known…mother," she smiled, then winced as Christine shook with another shock of pain. Marian lovingly pushed back a strand of hair from her mother's face and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Christine reached up to grasp her jerkin, holding her there for a moment, and whispered in her ear, "Live on, my green rider..."
The older woman's grip loosened on her daughter's jerkin, and her hand fell limp in Marian's grasp. She let out a sigh, tipping her head back as it started to snow.