Author's note: This story was first posted on the website under the title The Ballad of Robert and Marian. Since then my penname has changed, and I've edited the story. So, here's the new and improved version! I hope you guys enjoy it and I appreciate any reviews and feedback!

Special thanks goes out to Black Pixie, who helped me out with the spiffy new prologue.

O

- Chapter One -

I suppose the unfortunate story of the Locksley brothers begins when one thinks about lost mothers and fathers, their children who stray away from home like lost sheep without a shepherd, and the family ties that bring them together. You can run away, become a thief instead of a knight or name yourself 'Will Scarlet' instead of 'William of Locksley', but you'll still have your father's blood flowing in your veins and your mother's eyes. Their voices will be ringing in your head, reminding you that you are the way you are because of them.

The Locksley brothers were the closest that Holt had to a group of true outlaws. In the village, there was often talking of their gambling and drinking in pubs, and of their threatening innocent travelers and passing merchants.

They came from the nearby Locksley village. Their father, who had once owned most of the lands in Locksley, was something of a miscreant himself. Folk said he was a soft-spoken, sensible young man before his wife died. Afterwards, he kept to himself in his manor for nearly a year to mourn his wife's death, and then not to mourn. He had turned to ale and drink, and cared nothing for his sons and aught else, least of all for his son Robin, who had been born when his mother lay dying.

The estate and lands fell into decline over the years, while Sir Locksley's reputation for being ill-tempered and cruel grew. He took to terrorizing the village folk and seducing the daughters of serfs and frightening mothers. After a servant girl had at last given birth to Sir Locksley's fourth son, the serfs had had enough of his mischief and left.

Slowly but surely Locksley turned into a dead village – for many years families came and went, never staying too long, and the once prosperous fields shriveled from disuse. When Sir Locksley died and his eldest son was poised to inherit his lands, the Sheriff of Nottingham came and wrested it from him. They had taken after their father, it seemed, in every single respect – they were idle, they loved to drink and they caused mischief and as far as the Sheriff was concerned, this sort of behavior did not pay taxes or fiefs.

After being sent away from the only home they knew, they came to Holt. It had been the birthplace of their mother and her brother, Sir Richard. They sought work from him though he did not dare house them, fearing – not without reason – that they would somehow cause discord within his own house. But they lived upon his lands earning their own coin; they seemed happy and peaceful at first, but Holt did little to quell their thirst for ale or for trouble.

There were four of them. The eldest was John, and he was followed by Rolfe and Robin. The youngest was Will, son of the poor servant girl.

John had coal black hair and cold blue eyes. He was tall, almost like a giant, and wasnoticeably dark-skinned from toiling in his uncle's fields all day long. Those who had stared him straight in the face thought he had a wry, sinister intelligence behind his eyes – devil eyes, as people oft called them. I thought the same as they did at first, but when I came to know him, I saw only sadness and weariness within them.

Rolfe was two years younger than John and he too was black-haired and blue-eyed. But he was broad-shouldered, with a hard face and a grim sneer forever playing upon his lips. Of the four of them, he was the most dangerous, mostly because of his temper. He cursed and blasphemed even his own father's name and paid no respect to anyone, least of all to Robin and Will – the bastard son. Once, while Cedric was passing by the Blue Boar Inn with the other village boys, they saw Rolfe beat Giles the Drunkard near to a pulp in a fit of rage before John held a dagger against his own brother's throat to stop him.

Though only a year separated Rolfe and Robin, they were different as summer and winter. Robin had taken after their mother in appearance. He had soft brown eyes and auburn hair that became the color of dark, burnished gold whenever he stood in the light of a bright sunset. Robin was eighteen when I first knew him – already a man.

Will was the youngest by two years and was a year older than I. He was light-haired and grey-eyed, like his own mother. He was smaller than the others, though his skill with the sword rivaled John's. Will was quiet and I knew him the least out of all the brothers. He drank ale the most, was reckless and quick to anger.

Robin was the one you would never have thought for an outlaw. He was the sweetest of them all, and I had never heard him utter a curse. Still, in my father's eyes, he was as evil as his other brothers. He was a Locksley through and through, and there were times when I could see the wickedness within him. It haunted a part of his soul, but he barred himself from his wicked nature out of love for me.

–

It began in the summer of yesteryear, when I returned to Holt after spending some months under the care and tutelage of Lady Fairmayne at Whitby. Things were very much the same when I returned, though Cedric had grown taller. As I drew nearer to Holt in Lady Fairmayne's carriage, he was riding his horse upon the dirt road, waiting for me. I waved at him and he held his palm out simply. His poise struck me as very regal and noble, and he would've looked very much like the King himself if it were not for the little girl that stood beside him.

I was glad to see my sister Cecily again. She had grown from a bandy-legged little girl to a young maid of eight. Once out of the carriage, I ran to her, scooped her high in my arms for only a very fleeting moment – she had grown heavier too.

I had changed too. I did not feel like a little girl anymore; Lady Fairmayne had taught me things what my father couldn't, which were the ways and whys of womanhood. He accepted me with a stiff embrace and a stiff smile and said he was pleased that I had returned, though there was something in his eyes that told me that he did not know what to do with me. It was a strange thing for me, to suddenly to be with my father again, and it must've been odd for him to find himself with a woman for a daughter and with no wife to help him understand me.

Holt village was very close to the forest. Our lands began at the southernmost tip of Sherwood and ended at Daybrook River. Though we had a village, a mill and an inn, Holt was amongst the smaller estates in Nottinghamshire and its simplicity did not concern the Sheriff.

But my father was a proud man. He was a knight of no importance, but he was upright and decent and he had a strong son – Stephan, who was fighting in the Crusades. Cedric, too, brought him fatherly pride. Though he was only twelve, he was quick-minded and a good swordsman. He was to become a page for Sir Richard in the coming summer.

My father was also satisfied with Holt, as modest as it was, because there was no outlawry or mischief to plague it apart from the Locksley brothers. If the Sheriff was the law keeper of Nottingham then my father certainly held the same position in Holt. His word was law not only in his household, but for the rest of the village and it was seldom spoken lightly. This meant that I, being his only daughter, had to obey his word and heed his wishes especially. And if he found a suitable husband and he wanted me to marry him, I would. There would be no question and no dispute about it.

But there was a small part of me that did not like the ugly circumstance of being sold to any willing young (or old) man to be his bride. It was a disagreeable part of me and sometimes I admonished myself for thinking of running away upon my wedding day if the groom happened to be an ogre.

Eventually, I came to accept my place, and it was not because of my father's firm rules and strong words. It was because I knew it to be the right thing – to be reared for marriage, to marry one of my suitors, to be a good and dutiful wife and to bear healthy children. My life would not be grand, but it would be a decent and safe one. I told myself that I would not mind placing my future in my father's hands, but that was before I met Robin.

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Author's note: I know it may seem a little slow at first; there will be more action coming in the next chapters. And...a meeting with Robin!