Author's note: Ok, I know this has taken FOREVER to come, and I really have no excuse. It was already written, it just needed to be edited and put on the sight. I was just being lazy, I suppose. But, as no one was really clamoring for another chapter, I didn't think you would mind if I made you wait a bit. Well, here it is, my humble approach to the continuation of "Electra Regina". Please enjoy and Review, pleeeeeeeeeeeease! Thanks a bunch for reading my stuff.

Three weeks later in England

Robin of Locksley stood at the grave of his wife, Josephine, on the fifth anniversary of her death. She had died in child birth leaving him with a son he named Joseph, after her.

This train of thought led him to think on another woman whom he had loved and lost. Marian. Oh! He had adored her, as no man had adored a woman before! He hadn't known what to think when, eight months pregnant, she vanished without a note or any word of where she was going. At first he thought she had gone on an errand of some kind and neglected to tell him for fear that he would not let her go, but after some time with no word from her, he accepted the undeniable truth; she had left him. It had completely broken his heart. He could not understand it. She had had no reason to leave and had shown no signs of displeasure in their marriage. She did, perhaps, seem slightly anxious a week before she left, but that was normal for a woman about to have a baby. After a month and a half, he resolved to go out and search for her, fearing that perhaps she was in danger, or had been forced to give birth elsewhere. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Famine and pestilence hit the land and he was forced to remain at Locksley hall to aid his suffering people. In those seven years of hardship, he grew to accept Marian's betrayal and the loss of his unborn child. Then, when the famine seemed to be lifting, and his people could provide for themselves, Josephine had come. She was the daughter of a minor northern lord. Their love was not the passionate kind he had shared with Marian, but rather, filled with quiet affection and respect. Twice she was pregnant, only to miscarry in the middle months. Finally, in the beginning of their third year of marriage, she was pregnant again and it seemed she would carry the baby to term. It was tragically ironic that the baby survived, but Josephine did not. He spent most of his time nowadays raising Joseph and tending his land.

Suddenly, Robin realized he had been staring at the ground, thinking for close to an hour. He had work to do. His annual archery competition was only a week away, and he had much to do to prepare for it. The tradition had started during the famine. Held in Sherwood and therefore cut off from other archers, the famous Robin Hood devised a way feed his people and make the archers come to him. He held an archery competition in which he himself competed. So great was his fame that people came from all over England and Normandy and paid to enter the competition. The gold paid by the contestants was used to feed the people of Sherwood. Even after the famine had ended, the tradition continued, and this year was no different.

The day before the competition, nobles started to arrive. Many nobles came merely to watch the competition and partake in the revelry. It was good politics to be present at the Sherwood Games, as they had come to be known, for many marriages and treaties had been arranged there. Royalty and upper nobles would lodge in the castle, but everyone else would be in tents on the grounds. Robin was wandering by the registry, greeting the newcomers when he was attacked from behind by a five year boy old bearing a wooden sword. He was surprised and therefore fell to the ground shouting, "Joseph! Do try to behave!"

"But Father, I'm practicing for the Games," laughed the little boy who was the spitting image of Robin.

"For the Games, eh? And what makes you think you're competing?" Robin was grinning in spite of himself.

"You said last year I could compete when I was older. I'm five now. That's older! You have to let me compete!"

"Five may be older," said Robin sternly. "But it's not old enough. Perhaps in a…"

He was stopped mid-sentence by a raucous being raised behind him. He turned around to see the back of a woman. He could hear her shouting at his game keeper, McDuff. McDuff, however did not seem to need any assistance, for he was shouting back with great gusto. Robin rose and dusted himself off, ready to end the disagreement. "You cannot refuse my entrance!" He heard the woman insist in a cultured Norman accent.

"I can 'nd I am!" bellowed McDuff. "Your place is in th' stands with the rest o' the women!"

"What seems to be the trouble?" asked Robin calmly.

As he spoke the woman turned around to look at him. There was something about her that was extraordinarily familiar, but he could not place it. She seemed to be about sixteen years of age, but she carried herself with such confidence and maturity that she seemed to be ancient yet timeless. She tossed her dark hair and proclaimed, "I am Maid Elektra of du Bois, second cousin to King Richard, Grandniece of the Duke of Normandy, and this...servant has the gall to refuse me entrance to the Games."

"My lady," Robin said picking up her hand and kissing it. "There must be some kind of misunderstanding. We refuse no one entrance, especially someone as lovely as you. You see, I am Robin of Locksley, lord of these lands. McDuff, why have you refused her?"

"You misunderstand, begging your lordship's pardon. She doesn't want to watch the Games," explained the game keeper. "She wants to enter 'em. As in, compete."

Robin raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Elektra. "Well, I'm afraid we can't allow that. An archery competition is no place for a Lady."

Elektra stood up a bit straighter with her head held high and her green eyes boring into him angrily. "I did not come all the way from London to be refused." Then she smiled. "Surely, you can make an exception just this once. I will pay double the normal fee."

Robin pondered for a second, stroking his red beard. Finally he said, "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt, just this once. And if you are prepared to pay twice as much. Yes, I'm sure something could be arranged."

Her smile was genuine for the first time and he was once again struck by an intense feeling of familiarity. "Thank you my lord," she reached on her back and picked out a bright blue fletched arrow. Oddly, she proceeded to caress it lovingly. "You will not regret it." She signed her names on the lists and started to leave, but hesitated and turned back to him. "You are Robin Hood I believe?" she asked with the trace of a wry grin. He nodded. "The most famous ruffian in all of England," she laughed, full out, with obvious exuberance. "I am honored to be shooting against you tomorrow. May the best of us win."

"Oh, I intend to," he grinned. She inclined her head appreciatively and swept away, presumably to her tent.

He watched her go with a little more interest than he was willing to admit. There was something about that woman that intrigued him immensely.