Author's Note: Hello all! This little ficcy was originally supposed to be a part of the fifth chapter of my Robin Hood fic "Cate of Daggers." I liked the chapter and had some ideas for the characters within, but unfortunately college has gotten in the way of my writing schedule :(. However, in reading it back over I thought that it could do all right as a stand-alone one shot, so here you be! Enjoy!

He loved Christmas, the whole season. By then, harvest was over and the village had usually settled in for the long winter. The homes had been fortified as best as could be done against the season's icy chill, the taxes had been paid to Lord Ferdinand for the use of his land, and the villagers now had little to do past caring for the livestock and the usual daily household chores. Christmas was a time of excitement and hope. Excitement lay in his stomach like a brick of nerves, and hope was what he thrived on tonight.

Anything seemed possible at Christmas; that was what the parents told their children. Miracles happened at Yuletide. He hoped it was true as he watched her move about the great Hall, marvelling at how natural she appeared. She belonged in a place like this; despite her low birth, she had the beauty and dignity of a baroness. The prettiest girl in the village, they called her. She may have been born the daughter of a poor peasant farmer, but with that face and the Lord's help, she would be able to marry well, perhaps even a country knight. Although little more than a peasant himself, the lucky knight would be able to give her a title that none of her fellow villagers could dream to attain. That was what they hoped for her; that was what one villager in particular knew she would give up to marry him.

Rather, that was what he hoped she was willing to give up to marry him.

He also loved Christmas because of the feasting. Traditionally, the entire village, about thirty-five souls all told, was invited to share in a Yuletide feast at the palatial manor home of Lord Ferdinand. Now, the people of the estate gathered around a immense table that ran the length of the hall, knocking elbows and eating better than they had since the same night a year before. The Hall was filled with the noisy racket of conversation and merrymaking and the sweet aromas of the food and ale.

She had been crowned Queen of the Day for the third year in a row and to mark her station a garland circlet adorned her head of brown hair that was left hanging to her waist instead of in her usual braids. She sat beside the large, pig-looking Lord Ferdinand, who was named King as always. Compared to him, with his lank, greasy hair and fingers like sausages, she was more radiant than ever. Contrary to the timidity that had ruled her movements during her first Christmas as Queen of the Day, she now seemed at ease, laughing and sharing in the revelry.

Although the conversation of those around him distracted him from time to time, his gaze kept drifting back to her as the feast progressed. The food was delicious, the best he and most of the other villagers would see all year, but today he wished that everyone would finish eating. He wanted to speak with her; he was waiting for the feast to be over so the dancing could begin and she would come closer.

He wondered when it was that he had stopped seeing her as his rough-and-tumble childhood playmate and suddenly realized why everyone else admired and spoke of her the way they did. The two had grown up together; their mothers had been the best of friends since childhood and often got together to gossip while they performed their respective chores. He had met her when he was two and she but an infant, newly-born and brought with her mother when she came to card wool with his mother at his home. When her mother died, Will's mother had been one of the first and most dedicated adoptive mothers to the orphaned daughters. As a result, he had grown up thinking of her almost as a sister or cousin that made up for his lack of natural siblings. But at some point, however, his brotherly affection for her had changed into something very different indeed.

Finally the meal was over, and the ale began to flow. He refrained; she had vacated her makeshift throne and was heading his way, grinning at him. She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps share just how disgustingly Lord Ferdinand had devoured his mutton, but he stopped her.

"Meet me outside when you can get away."

She looked at him, square in the eye. She frowned in question, but after a short pause she slowly nodded and continued down the Hall. His heart skipped a beat when she glanced worriedly back over her shoulder to look at him again, and something like nervousness settled in his stomach as he slipped out of the Hall.

As he stepped outside and closed the heavy door behind him, he noticed just how cold the weather had become. It was perhaps the coldest night of the season, and as befits a Christmas night it had begun to snow. He wrapped his arms around himself, stepping into the shadows just out of the reach of the glow given off by a single lit sconce that adorned the manor wall. Although he knew that it would not be easy for the Queen of the Day to leave unnoticed, he was impatient. The chill penetrated his thin jerkin, and his attempts to warm himself, stomping and blowing on his hands, weren't helping much.

At least he heard the groan of the door on its hinges as it was eased open. He saw her come out, wrapped in the blanket she had used as a shawl coming from her home. She peered into the darkness, searching for him, hesitant to close the door. However, before she could become uneasy he called out softly.

"Meg."

She turned and caught sight of him in the shadows, relief showing on her face by the light of the sconce. He stepped away from the wall as she approached him, looking concerned.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her breath forming a wispy cloud around her lips. "Why did you need to speak with me?"

Now that she was there, right in front of him, with her cheeks pink from the biting cold and a look of worry on her face, his words froze in his throat. When he didn't say anything at first, she stepped a bit closer, her eyes narrowing farther still in concern.

"Will? What is it?" she continued. "You know you can talk to me."

He still said nothing, as his tongue seemed to have suddenly gotten too big for his mouth, unable to articulate the words that had suddenly flown from his head.

"It's just me, Will. What's wrong?"

That was the problem. It was just her. Just Meg, same as ever. Just the two of them, the way it always had been.

"Meg, I…" he stammered. "I need to tell you something."

She nodded, still looking concerned. She still was beautiful, still so perfect as the sconce's light flickered on her features and her cheeks shone red with the cold. An idea came into his head then, and before he knew it he was taking a step toward her, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek and pull her head closer to his. His eyes closed, but the touch he felt on his lips wasn't hers. His eyes opened to find her fingers pressed to his mouth, her eyes wide with question and surprise. He then found his voice.

"Meg… I love you."

Her mouth dropped open a little as her eyes widened still more.

"I think somehow I always have… probably since that day I dared you to climb that tree. I didn't think you would, and then you beat me—"

"You let me win."

"No," he said honestly, "I didn't." And she smiled.

"But the thing is, Meg… I want to marry you."

Her look of surprise suddenly seemed pained and she bit her bottom lip.

"Say yes, Meg. I know I don't have the right to ask you this; I know if you wanted you could marry a knight or maybe even a lord. At least someone better than me. I know I can't offer you what they could, Meg, but I can promise you that no one else could love you like I do."

There were tears in her eyes now. He didn't know whether that was a good thing or bad, but he hoped that it was the former.

"Will," she whispered. "Will Scarlett, my oldest friend…"

"Please say yes, Meg."

"Will… I can't."

His heart seemed to stop and his ears rang as he tried to convince himself that he hadn't heard what his brain seemed to be telling him he had.

"What?" he choked out.

"I can't marry you," she whispered, and tears now were running down her face. "I can't, Will."

He tried to ask why, but the pain in his chest was constricting his breath.

"Will, I'm already engaged."

His head reeled. Trying to get a coherent sentence out, he stammered, "En-engaged? To who? When?"

"We were going to announce it tonight…"

She didn't say it, and may not have even meant to, but still the words rang in his ears. You're too late.

"We?"

"Argus asked me to marry him two days ago."

He didn't mean for his incredulous answer to come out as venomously as it did. "The fletcher?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Will. I do love you, but only as a sister loves a brother." She smiled a bit, attempting humor. "A big, dumb, over-talkative brother."

Although her phrase wasn't meant to harm – in fact, it was what she had called him when they were children (he called her a "scrawny know-it-all") – her words struck to his core. A brother. To be loved as a brother was exceedingly worse than not being loved at all. He would rather not be loved at all, to have come so close and yet not made her love him as he loved her. Was he supposed to then see her only as a sister? As a sister, and not as the most beautiful girl inside and out that he had ever known?

He felt a stinging sensation behind his own eyes as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He had expected her to be somewhat surprised, but never had his mind stretched so far as to anticipate her saying no, especially not because she was already keen on marrying someone like Argus Fletcher. He was at least eight or nine years her senior, quiet and pensive, exactly the opposite of Will himself. Exactly the opposite of Meg and of the man Will pictured her marrying.

After seeing him pause, she tried to reassure him. "He's a good man, Will."

"Better than me?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"Will," she implored him, pleading with her eyes. "I love him."

Worse was her declaration. He could have kept arguing with her if she hadn't said that she loved Argus. He could have persuaded her to break the engagement – it wasn't announced, after all – to run away with him and leave Argus Fletcher behind. But she loved him. Those words took away his arguments, pleas, and reasoning and he was at last defeated. He wasn't only too late.

He was the wrong man.

---

Two weeks later a small ceremony was held in the village chapel. The entire town turned out to see their beauty wedded to the quiet fletcher. The only man absent was the Scarlett boy, who hadn't been seen since the night before. Rumors circulated, as often happens in small villages, about his flight, but the joy of the day's festivities, the beauty of the bride, and the happiness of the couple soon drove worry or gossip from the minds of the simple townsfolk.

It was the only place he could think to go; he had had enough of pretty village girls and working another man's fields. Rumors had gone through the town of an outlaw band forming in Sherwood against the usurping Prince John and the ruthless Sheriff, but never until now had he thought of joining them. They were far enough away from Nottingham that the cruel Sheriff's actions didn't faze the villagers much, and it mattered little to simple peasants whose royal bottom sat on a throne in London. Lord Ferdinand, though immensely fat and arrogant, was fair enough as nobility went. But perhaps the adventurous life of an outlaw was the life for him. At any rate, it had to be better than spending his time in the village with Meg and the man she'd chosen instead of him always a stone's throw away. And so, banishing from his mind the village of his birth and his heart that despite all his willpower remained there, Will Scarlett took to the forest.

Author's Note: Hope you liked it! Please review!