A/N: Well, really short chapter here. Used to introduce a new character, who is completely of my own invention. Don't even try to take credit for her, Pyle. Anyways, don't worry, I added a second chapter to go with this one. Just needed to bring in my sweet little character. And a minor plot development.

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The sheriff shrugged. "What matters it if I DID trick you?" he asked. I was going to knee him again. "It is not as if your precious outlaw's fate can be suddenly reversed." For some reason, I did not protest this implication. "Even his friends in the woods cannot save him now. Secrecy is of little avail at a PUBLIC hanging."

"Too bad a certain one of those friends in the greenery shall remain at large, isn't it?" I sneered, twirling a strand of my long hair. The sheriff's brow lowered. "William of Norwell," he spat, disgust in every syllable. Perfect. Fall into my trap like the venomous insect you are.

"And what a pity," I continued, "that our prince believes you have been gathering information about him for three months, from a captured outlaw." The sheriff caught on quickly. "You wouldn't dare -"

"Oh, wouldn't I? A lady's word is never to be contradicted."

I allowed a grin of wicked satisfaction to spread across my face as the sheriff reddened. "Now, you ponder that circumstance, my lord, and while you do, recall the time I told you there would be no duping me again." I paused, smiling slightly in light of my own comment. "And then recall the time I pledged to push Richard out of a window. Only Robin stopped me from doing it." I peered intently at the sheriff, allowing a single strand of hair to glide artfully in front of my face. "I doubt he shall be so inclined in regard to my vengeance upon you."

The sheriff burst into merry laughter. "I doubt that as well. Those screams you heard? We used the hot iron rods on him today. He was so weak afterwards we couldn't even drag him out of the cell!" That sadistic laughter snaked through the air like poison, crawling into my ears as a million deadly spiders, mimicking his original merriment with their own high-pitched giggles. "Let us just say an outlaw fears fire for more than one reason." He laughed shortly. "He is in no condition to stop anyone from doing anything." I glowered at him. My fingers twitched towards my sword. But murder would do no one any good.

"The case is not so with me," I replied.

The sheriff ignored me. "In fact, he has not the strength to keep me from hanging him without his last confession. I do not believe he has been since he murdered that forester." No, really? I thought he stopped in town every few days. That----

"You would send him straight to Hell!!" I screamed. Of course, I was convinced that Robin was not truly guilty, since it was a matter of kill or be killed. And in my opinion, Robin did humanity more good than the forester would have. But I could not believe what I was hearing. Did the sheriff truly loathe Robin so strongly? "What a pity," he replied sarcastically. I loathed it when he quoted me.

"How could you be so cold-hearted?" I returned, "Whatever he has done to you, he does not deserve Hell, you sadistic, wicked, power-hungry, penny pinching, backstabbing, manipulating Norman! Good God!"

The sheriff's wicked smirk twisted with his lips. "I have a proposition to make, my lady. You keep my secret, and I shall not send Robin Hood on the journey to Hell." I growled. I could not sacrifice Robin's soul for my own means. The weasel was willing to stoop so low.

Suddenly, Robin's voice cut through the air. I had forgotten he was below us. "Marian, think of everyone in Nottingham! Let the Usurper punish him for the brainless bastard he is!" he screeched. The sheriff's lip twitched frightfully at the mention of a hanging that might stop his own breathing. "Give him a dozen more!" he roared, stomping his foot irritably against the door.

Think of everyone in Nottingham? We discuss the fate of his immortal soul, and he thinks of everyone else? My stomach churned; my heart dropped; my head thickened with agony. There was no way in all of creation I could possibly condemn him. Not when he was selfless as that. As deeply as I hated the sheriff, I loved Robin far more. I brought my face back from the wooden door to face my tormentor. "Fine!" I cried, staring defiantly at him with extreme odium. He smirked. Enjoy it while you can, you fiend of Hell. Once Robin is dead, I'll spill the entire tale.

Robin cried out in either protest or pain, I knew not which. "Marian, please!" he shouted, voice wracked with plaintive agony. And that was when the last shred of pleasure in my heart shattered into a thousand shreds that floated out of me with my next breath. Everything he had gone through was, in his eyes, now amounting to naught. The sheriff would survive as our county's leading official. He had my forced word, Robin's ruined body, and the peasant's undying fear to secure his position.

But he would not have Will. And for that, Robin would suffer.

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Aedre means "stream". It is an Anglo-Saxon name. The whole Robin Hood good guys were Saxon, so I made her Saxon, too.

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I frowned maliciously and stormed into my house. I had gone to the sheriff in hopes of easing Robin's torture through blackmail, but, if I knew the sheriff, I had only made matters worse. My life is simply a study in irony.

I always seemed to bring a cold wind into the house with me, for the servants shuddered when I slammed the door behind me. For an instant, I wondered if it could be my demonic scowl, but decided that it was most assuredly the night air. I would indulge myself for now. The hall fire was lit, though I had nearly blown it out in my rage. It was reasonably warm inside, due to the aforementioned blaze. I stepped into the light of the flames so that everyone could see I had arrived. The slightest twinge of fear skipped into me when I saw my father. For a moment, I had thought him to be Sir Richard. If that benevolent old knight were here, his abominable son would be as well. But it was only my father. The servants all shied away from me, and were sure to look busy as they went about their tasks, so as to escape the rage evident in my face.

My cousin Aedre knew something was wrong with me as soon as I stormed into the manor. While my father waved cheerfully from the fireplace in complete oblivion, Aedre sat up from her embroidery on instant and gathered her shawl round her shoulders. "My lord," she told my father quietly, "I am going to join my lady in her chambers." My father nodded, smiling as I stormed angrily out of the room.

I shooed the accursed maids from my chambers with unusual discourtesy, Aedre posing timidly behind me. She waved and chatted quietly with them as they left. A few were too jealous of her status as my cousin to even respond to her gestures. I took note of them and composed a mental note reminding myself to shoo them earlier than the rest, just so they knew how I responded to such unparalleled churlishness. But Aedre only smiled at them, kind to all with her forgiving expression. She should be canonized - St. Aedre, patron saint of those with violent impulses. Her sweet and loving nature would aid those such as me in controlling our ferocious tempers.

She closed the door, humming. "Well then, my dear cousin," she asked, "What is so wrong that your blood must be boiling?" I flung open the window, rage in me. Chilled wind swept through my room, and Aedre shuddered, but she offered no protest. There was only one way to get an answer from me, and that was supreme and godly patience.

"I suppose you have heard about the - the capture of Robin Hood," I commented absently. She nodded. "Such a wonderful man and such a horrible thing. They used the hot brands on him today," she replied, shuddering. "I pity him." Aedre pitied anything that could cry out in pain. My face twisted with emotion. I had already known about that, but---- my God.

"And do you remember the little boy I used to run around Sherwood with?" Again Aedre nodded. "He was quite nice to me, always asking my opinion about things," she commented, "He became a forester, did he not?" I nodded dumbly, embracing the fierce pain of poisonous night wind, begging it to kill me so I would not have to bear this guilt within me. "Do you remember his name?" My voice cracked.

"Rowan - no, Robert. Wait - Sparrow or something?" She paused, musing over it good-naturedly. Aedre loved a good puzzle. Suddenly, her pale face lit with revelation. "Of course!" she cried, "his name was -----" She paused worriedly, peering at me. "His name was - oh, Marian, is he truly?"

"Aye," I replied bitterly, keeping both eyes fixed on the blackness of night. "He is now Robin HOOD."

Aedre walked over to me and put both arms round my shoulders. "Poor Mari," she murmured, laying her compassionate head against my shoulders. I felt tears spring to my eyes, and I shoved her away. "Poor Marian? More like poor Robin. He is the one rotting in Nottingham's dungeons, wasting away to a once-loved legend. Nay - more of a once-loved fairy tale." My voice cracked with bitter cynicism. "Legends don't die." I began sobbing. I could not help it. I saw his disbelieving face, asking me to explain my horrid actions, begging me to wake him up from his nightmare.

Aedre held me close and let me cry. Tears flew down my face, but Robin would not get out of my mind. My shoulders jerked up and down with a ferocious speed and I hiccupped with the force of my sadness. "Good God, I can still hear his screams," I whispered, buried in her shoulder. Aedre rocked back and forth. "Hush, dearie, hush. It is not your fault, is it?" Oh, if only she knew.

Somehow I spilled the true story to my loving cousin. The whole story broke me, and I cried the entire time as I related the events. I very nearly lost all traces of dignity when I reached the memory of my part in Robin's torment. And for a moment, her kind eyes filled with loathing. I did not blame her. By the rood, my poor Robin. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed afterwards. She only held me, allowing me my sorrow despite her obvious anger. But, as usual with kindhearted, angelic Aedre, my tears drew her anger away, and she soon fell into pity. Her silence was comforting in the thickness of night, though she may not have known. It gave me time to weep without thinking. I was allowed to simply think of my own sorrow and no one else's. As shallow as it may sound, selfishness is the most comforting emotion I have ever encountered.

I finally drew enough strength to pull away from her. She wiped my face affectionately with her shawl, smiling compassionately at me, like I was a five-year-old who had fallen and scraped her knee. I think that was how she smiled at everyone. "Aedre, what can I do?" I asked, sniffing despondently. She needed to help me. I was powerless. My cousin smiled with understanding. "You must help the others free him," she replied. I nodded.

"That I must do. But I shall need your help."

Aedre jumped. She glowered intently at her feet, wishing she were not so hesitant. She was so insecure about her own abilities, though anyone could tell she would die to help someone. For a long time, her intense grey eyes were on her feet. She must have been thinking of the consequences of her failure, the value of her success. She was measuring them against one another. Then she looked into my eyes, vigor in there I had not seen in a long time. "Well then, we should get to work." Her voice was quiet and hesitant, marked by her usual timidity. "He hangs tomorrow."

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Aedre isn't quite so important as Marian's father. She's just as she seems - a timid, quiet saintly contrast to her cousin. I seem to put a lot of cousins in here. Hmm - might be because I prefer my cousins to my siblings, even though I see them nearly as often. They live next door.