I worked hard on this one...

3 Years Later, Acre, 1191

Robin slashed through the Saracen's abdomen, turned, and stabbed another behind him. Both fell dead, and to each Robin said in a low voice, "Sorry." He had taken to doing so since the beginning. It had become habit, along with the killing. He hated killing with such a passion! But the only way to avoid it was to be killed himself, and being nineteen, he felt too young to die. But the near constant smell of death and blood had become a part of life, along with the knowledge that any day his life could end.

The last of the Saracens retreated, leaving the camp outside Acre's walls to its occupants. Robin stepped over the bodies of the men he had just killed, surveying the rest of the damage. A few of the tents were utterly destroyed, but more importantly men had fallen. Most of them were Saracens but there were more than a few Christians as well. Did he know any of them? Although Robin had been careful not to make friends, knowing that most would die, he still knew various others. When the king had arrived, he had for some strange and unbeknownst reason, taken Robin as a personal companion, sharing almost everything with him; food, weapons, his tent. It made most everyone his enemy, since he was favored. So well favored in fact, that he was on a first name terms with Richard.

Albert had died early on, his lust for battle making him vulnerable. Robin had made an attempt to tell him that he shouldn't be so eager, but it hadn't turned out well.

Then Robin recognized a face among the fallen Christians: Marian's father. He was still breathing, and Robin rushed to his side. "Sir Collin?" Robin wondered if the man could hear him. His wounds were mortal; perhaps he was already too far gone.

"Robert, I…" Sir Collin stuttered, his face full of pain. "Tell…" He stopped to regain his breath.

"Tell who what?" Robin asked, hoping it wasn't too late.

"Marian…" the old knight breathed. "That…I died… with honor."

"I will, I promise you." As soon as the words were out, Marian's father stopped breathing, and was still. Robin wasn't sure what to think. Sir Collin had been his last link to Marian, and if he had survived, would have been his future father-in-law. It was the man's dying wish for him to write Marian, which he'd gladly do for him.

But it that meant he had to ask Richard for the materials, even though they were scarce. Richard, however, didn't hesitate. So Robin was sitting at the king's desk, quill poised above parchment, not sure how to begin. The candle beside him spat and wavered, mirroring his own hesitation. How on earth should he address her? It had been years, who knew what she thought of him anymore? So he started simple:

My Marian,

He stopped and wondered what Marian would think of that. By law she was his, so it couldn't be too wrong to say so. It was there now, anyway.

I'm afraid I'm writing with some bad news. Your father died today, and he charged me to tell you. He said to say that he died in honor, although I don't think there is any honor to be found here. We're outside the walls of Acre, laying siege. Often, Saracens decide to harass us, and that's how he was killed. I'm sorry, even though I know you never liked him all that well.

I'll give an explanation for the Royal Seal. I'm friends with the king, and he wanted to make sure that this letter would get to you as soon as possible. Richard made me sort of a son to him, in a way. That's the best way to describe it.

I'm not at all sure what I should say. It's hard when I have no idea what you've been up to. I should tell you to work on your aim, but you probably don't have a bow to practice with. I could ask if you've been too much trouble for England to handle, but the last I knew you were being sent away somewhere. Why that should stop you, I don't know.

Wherever you are now, don't let them change you too much. Unless they have already, which would be a shame and I'm serious, it would be. Don't scowl at me; I'm just saying what's on my mind.

I should stop here before I get ahead of myself.

Robin

He folded it carefully. "I love you," Robin said, wishing he could have written it.

The king entered and Robin quickly stood and bowed his head in recognition. "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to do that, Robin?"

"At least a few more, Your Majesty," was Robin's response. It was the same one he gave every time the king asked him that question.

"Finished already? Don't you have more to say to her? From what you've told me of the girl, I'd have expected a longer correspondence."

Yes, Robin had told Richard about Marian. The king had asked if Robin had a woman at home; and Marian was his, so Robin had told him. He had left out only how they had met, which was one thing that he had skipped for the sake of his pride.

"She wouldn't have wanted to hear most of what I wanted to say. Otherwise I would have written at least two more pages of the sappiest things you'd have ever read," Robin said in all seriousness.

Richard laughed his deep guttural laugh, and Robin wanted to as well, but he hadn't found anything funny since he had come here.

Richard sat down and held the sealing wax to the flickering flame that the candle gave off. Robin watched as the king pressed his seal into the warm wax, hurrying Robin's words to Marian ever faster. "Now," the king said. "Where do I have my man take this?"

Robin answered, "Directly into the hands of Marian Fitzwater, at Fitzwater Manor, Southwell."

Is the computer yelling at you to review now too? Really?