Note: Hey! Thank you to whoever still keep up with the story and leaves reviews after the chapters! It makes writing so much more exciting for me! So thank you! In this chapter Mollie does some final preparations before making her way to Sherwood Forest. Some chapters are hard to write and this definitely was one of them. Maybe it's because it relies mostly on original characters and writing them for now is harder than using figures that have been living in my mind rent free for years. But it's finally done! Soooo I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6: The Prisoner

When Mollie entered the kitchen in Nottingham Castle, a rich mix of scents hit her nostrils. She recognised the smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the aroma of simmering broth. Her eyes wandered over the familiar surroundings.

Large cauldrons hung from soot-stained hooks above a crackling fire. Countless pots, pans and utensils cluttered the counter-tops.

Mr Singleton, the castle's cook, the man she sought, stood near a massive wooden table, engrossed in slicing potatoes.

On leaving her brother and Guy behind, Mollie tried to make a plan. How to proceed. What she needed to do before departing the castle. She needed provisions. That was why the first stop was the kitchen of Nottingham Castle. She knew the cook, Mr Singleton, personally. She got to know him when she was a little girl, wandering alone around the corridors. The chambers in the basement that belonged to her and her mother were too restricting for her once she got to know them by heart, so she often came up to the ground floor. This was how people working in the castle got to know of her existence. This was how gossip about her enchanting appearance started.

Mr Singleton was a good man, in Mollie's opinion. He rarely asked her questions about her origin despite the rumours running around that she was the Witch's daughter. Which was also the truth. He was also the first person to ever ask her about her name. When she was eight years of age, when she first stumbled into the kitchen, he asked her what she was called. Until then, the only ways she had been referred to were 'daughter' and 'sister'. So quite oblivious of her, she thought one of those two would be her name. Her innocence made the cook smile. She remembered clearly how she mutely stared back at the cook, confused by his reaction. Then he told her his name and the names of his family. Of the daughter he missed who was her age. Mollie.

From that day on, she started saying her name was Mollie. She didn't know why exactly. Perhaps because it was the first girl name she had come across in her life.

"Ah, Mollie!" The cook's face lit up at the sight of her, finally realising her presence.

His graying beard hinted he was way past his prime years. Old stains on his apron proudly showcased the years spent in pursuit of culinary mastery. Leaving the knife aside, he used the front of the apron to wipe his hands clean. "Come in, my dear. How can I assist you today?"

Mollie wasn't sure whether Mr Singleton believed the rumours that she was the Witch's daughter or the Sheriff's bastard younger sister. He never asked. She never revealed anything of her family either. But they often talked when he wasn't overloaded with work. Whereas Mollie rarely revealed anything about herself, she knew his life story almost by heart. She loved to listen to stories of his children. He always talked about how much joy they were bringing him.

"I need supplies for a journey," she said, coming forward.

"A journey to where?" Mr Singleton's curiosity was evident in his quizzical expression.

"To Sherwood Forest."

A shadow flickered across Mr Singleton's face. "Sherwood? That's a haunted place, Mollie. Why venture there?"

"It's a personal matter," she replied, raising her eyebrows in exasperation even though the two weren't facing each other. She was staring at the pots and pans cluttering the table instead, unwilling to look him in the eye. His concern was making her uncomfortable. She just wanted to get her supplies and leave.

Yet the cook shortened the distance between them with a few long strides and as he came to a stop before her, she had no choice but to look at him. "Running from the Sheriff or his men?" he asked, searching her face in alarm.

Mollie shook her head, her gaze dropping for a moment. "No one wishes me ill." Brushing a golden strand of hair behind her ear, she lifted her gaze again. "But I need to go, for myself."

After the confusion, Mr Singleton's eyes softened with understanding. "Ah, I see. Sometimes we seek things for ourselves that others cannot comprehend."

She nodded mutely. Should she tell him? Better yet, why shouldn't she? Something held her back from voicing her intent to catch Robin of Locksley. Shouldn't she be proud by her decision?

Squeezing her hands in fists, she squared her shoulders, deciding in favour of telling him what she was up to. "I wish to meet Robin of Locksley. I heard he hides in Sherwood Forest—"

"Ah, Mollie! How delightful!" Mr Singleton beamed and his voice lowered to a hushed tone, quickly scanning their surroundings to make sure they were alone. "I too admire Robin of Locksley! A hero fighting against the Sheriff! His bravery is a light in these dark times..."

Mollie managed a forced smile.

Her intent was hardly the one he assumed.

She hardly said anything more when Mr Singleton helped her pick the supplies she needed—a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, a flask of water and a pouch with nuts.

His generousity at giving her food each time she visited led her to believe she must know she was close to the Sheriff. It couldn't possibly be out of a good heart. Yet if he would know of her relation to the Sheriff, why would he conspire against him in her presence?

She should have him killed for it!

But he was also one of her few friends here. She couldn't lose him.

As she bid the cook farewell and departed the kitchen, she tried to preoccupy her mind with thoughts of the journey ahead.

But the genuine admiration in the cook's eyes for Robin of Locksley lingered in her thoughts.

In the dimly lit chamber of her basement quarters, Mollie arranged her clothes meticulously, folding and refolding them in an attempt to keep her hands busy.

She felt the weight of her upcoming journey pressing upon her shoulders.

The image of Robin, a figure of legend, a man whose defiance was whispered about even within the castle walls, made her curious. What kind of a man was he?

Yet, what she was undertaking was a risk. Was she entirely prepared for it? Her heart raced with uncertainty. Could she truly outwit this legendary man? Or would her desire to prove herself lead her early to her grave?

The deeper she delved into these thoughts, the more uncertain she felt. The task ahead seemed impossible.

Mollie noticed her brother's silhouette casting a formidable shadow against the cold stone walls.

She turned his way and sent him a blank stare, suppressing the doubt gnawing at her.

He appeared composed. Too composed, she noted, noticing the uncharacteristic calmness in her brother's demeanour. A stark contrast to his prior behaviour.

Suspicion quickly weaved its way into her thoughts. "Can I help you?"

"You're packing," he stated the obvious, looking at the clothes on her bed.

"I told you I was leaving."

Whatever hesitance she felt earlier was gone. With her brother in the room, the determination she lacked flared inside her like a wildfire. Oh, how she wanted to prove to him for once and for all she was as capable as any other!

"Where to?" he asked.

Mollie held back a sigh and fixated her brother with her gaze, "Sherwood, brother. Robin is there, isn't he?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, almost bored as he said, "Dear sister, do you even know where Sherwood Forest is?"

"Dear brother, are you honestly asking a witch that question?"

He rolled his eyes and found more interest in looking at his boots.

"What happened?" she asked, regarding him through squinted eyes. 'Why are you suddenly so normal?' was the better question she wanted to ask.

Her brother scratched his cheek, close to the spot that bared a scar left by him by Robin, before lifting his gaze.

"The Witch told me you are meant to support me for the rest of my life," he explained with a casual wave of his hand, his tone surprisingly cordial. "Her visions told her that with your help, I'll get far, bla bla bla."

Mollie leaned her head to the side, listening with newfound curiosity.

"I'm thankful I have someone I can rely on," he continued, looking aside, almost sounding like someone was forcing him to say these things. Yet Mollie knew this was her brother's way of opening up. "Since my cousin is an incapable fool. I know you hate hearing the truth but I'm not one to speak lies. I judge based on what I see. In fact, I too believe you have more of a chance at catching Locksley than Guy."

This time her laughter was not forced, it came out on its own.

Her brother's shoulders also began to shake.

She concealed her mouth with her hand, yet laughter flowed out of both of them with ease.

Calming down, she regarded him again.

She could tell his words were wrapped in an unusual sincerity.

Better yet, his acknowledgment of her potential stirred something within her. A warmness.

Mollie smiled a little.

The moment, however, was fleeting as her brother suddenly dropped the smile and asked, "Are you serious about going to Sherwood Forest?" His question sliced through the carefree air in the room, filling it with tense silence instead.

Mollie could swear she detected a hint of concern in his voice.

"I am," she said, looking away. "I have everything ready," she nodded at the clothes on her bed.

He contemplated her response before crossing his arms. "Do you want some of my men to come with you?"

Mollie shook her head. "I need no protection. Where I am going my best shield would come from people not knowing where my loyalty lies."

"Very well. Surprise me, sister, and I promise you, I will pay you back with your weight in gold."

She turned to him. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly by her sides. A furrow cut through her forehead and she shook her head. "I don't want gold, brother." She widened her eyes. "I want power."

"What kind of power?" He inclined his head to the side in open curiosity

"I want to matter," she confessed in a rush, her words echoing in the quiet chamber.

There was a weighty silence that hung between them.

Her brother's response carried a somber tone, free of mockery, but laced with irritation, "That's not something I can give you. Either you win it or you don't. It's up to you. If you remain fearful, no one will take you seriously, not me, not anyone else. Your demand lies in your own hands."

"I am not fearful," Mollie said, her voice carrying a hint of defiance.

Yet his presence alone was enough to have her heart race and her hands tremble, even though she willed herself to stand her ground.

"Prove yourself. For I see nothing but fear when you look at me." His challenge was a deliberate provocation. She knew it and it made her blood boil. "I wish to see more anger in you. There it is. Don't fear me. Don't fear anyone. Only then will people start to give you power over them and then, sister, when you have power, you will matter."

Instead of ascending toward the stairs leading to the upper chambers of the castle, Mollie took a different path, venturing downward into the grimy, foul-smelling sewers that ran beneath Nottingham Castle. She knew her mother to be preoccupied with magic in her chamber and her brother to be in the upper part of the castle.

Before leaving, there was one more thing to settle.

It had to do with the secret she shared with Guy.

Faint echoes of dripping water resonated through the grimy stone walls while she navigated through the maze-like network of passages. She moved through the dark and damp corridors as if it were second nature, without a torch, trusting her intuition to lead her the way.

That was the first lesson she learned from her mother when she was little. A Witch trusted her intuition. Without it no magic would be possible.

As she drew nearer to a secluded corner, the shadows seemed to part, revealing a hooded figure. The silhouette emerged clearer from the shadows the closer she got. It was a man. He sat on the damp ground, his features hidden by the hood covering his face. He lowered it on hearing footsteps.

"We're leaving here," Mollie said.

The man straightened, using the stone wall for support to get on his feet, a weary gaze meeting hers. "Where to?"

Mollie wrestled with the unspoken plea in his eyes. Guy called him their guest. But only to avoid using the word 'prisoner' in case her brother would overhear them. That was how paranoid he was about the secret they shared. Perhaps he was right to be that afraid. Because if her brother was to find out who they kept here, he would lose it.

"I can't release you," she said. "You're a dead man. You'll be one for the rest of your life."

The man studied her face in confusion and, after a moment, offered a defeated smile. "Then why am I alive?"

Seven months ago Guy came to her in a rush, pleading with her to do the unthinkable. To prevent her brother's scheme. Mollie agreed without battling an eye. She didn't know what was in her, why she didn't even hesitate. Even Guy was confused and doubtful of her quick willingness to help him.

But he still went along with it, despite the doubt, despite putting his own life on the line by trusting she would not reveal his deception to her brother.

Mollie asked him why he wanted to save that man. What was so important about the life of a lord who wasn't loyal to her brother for Guy to risk his own life?

He told her he wasn't doing it for him. It was for his mother. That was all he said. He didn't give her any more details and with each day Mollie grew more confused by what could lay behind the imprisonment of the lord.

"That's not a question you should be asking me," she told him.

Her words extinguished any flicker of hope in the lord's eyes. His shoulders fell. Something about the defeated posture of the man made it clear he didn't want to live anymore, at least not this kind of life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laden with genuine remorse.

For seven months this man lived in the deepest part of the sewers, surrounded by a labyrinth of corridors. A few times he got lost in them. He attempted to find his escape by using the yarn of his clothes for orienteering, leaving a line of yarn behind the turns he took. Each time, he resurfaced in the same corner. The one Mollie had tied him to with the shadows surrounding them. Only the lord seemed unaware of it. But eventually he realised he would not be able to walk out of here.

Her captive's silence spoke volumes. He dreaded the fate she imposed on him. The life of a captive, forever hidden from the world. But that was all she could offer him.

"I understand, child," he said out of the blue with a resignated sigh. His eyes fell on the bread she carried in her hand. "Thank you for bringing me food."

The gratitude in his words sent a pang of guilt into her chest as she extended the bread to him. Something that always astonished her about this man was how he never tried to use physical force against her to make her show him the way out. She was prepared for such a scenario. The shadows she controlled would quickly immobilse him. Yet she never had to use them against him. Since he not once raised a hand on her.

"No need to thank me," she said, avoiding his eye. "We will go with the sunrise. Get some sleep."

As she turned to leave, the lord took a few shaky steps behind her, his palm using the support of the stone wall. "Now wait a minute! Will you please at least tell me where we will be going?"

She paused briefly, still facing the dark corridor before her. She contemplated her answer with furrowed eyebrows. "Why ruin the surprise?"

"Child," he warned behind her, for a moment forgetting that he was the captive and she was the captor.

Mollie glanced over her shoulder. "Yes, old man?"

If she were a child, then he counted for an old man.

The lord raised a shaky finger at her, unamused by her sense of humour. "You have a foul mouth. A shame for such a beautiful young lady like yourself."

Mollie's eyes widened.

His words made her heart beat faster.

Whether it was because her prisoner sounded like he genuinely wished better from her, like a parent would, she couldn't tell. One thing was sure, the unexpected scolding mixed with a compliment left her feeling warm inside.

She cleared her throat and forced her legs to carry her away. The sudden rush of affection urging her to depart without turning back.

Note: Now moving on to the next! Chaper 7 follows Mollie's first day in Sherwood among the Merry Men. Also the first time she sees this Robin of Locksley who keeps antagonising her brother. I'm very curious what you think: Will Mollie grow to like Robin with time and change sides or will she remain loyal to her blood and finish what she set out to do?

Also, lmao, yes, the prisoner is who you think it is! In for a penny, in for a pound! This story is becoming a complete AU buuut I can't help it!