It was two hours past dusk. He had given up on her. What was she up to? Did he really care?

The Sheriff was down in Mortianna's apothecary. He was ready to venture on his outing. To hell with propriety and explaining himself to anyone. The Duke was off duty, so the only one who would be told of his whereabouts would be Luke.

He was back. The old him was now back completely. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing? Now that his son…gasp. His son was returned safely to him. Indeed…the Duke shall be duly rewarded for this.

"Tell the Druids I'm back." The Sheriff advised Mortianna. "I'm through with pretending to be a properly polite, and ultimately boorish nobleman!" The Sheriff snapped.

"But…your son?" Mortianna pointed out.

"My son shall be taught everything right! He is mine after all isn't he? Stop interfering in this matter, crone! I know what is best for him." The Sheriff warned. "My son and I shall journey through this life on our own. And he shall be all the stronger for it, as I am. We did not need mothers to coddle us for us to be great. And my son shall prove to be a man of greatness." He said confidently.

"You're determined." Mortianna said.

"Indeed. I have to be. Things may go awry when I speak with her. When I find out the real truth. I must be prepared." The Sheriff said.

It was true Mortianna could have easily revealed the truth to him. He never asked because she always made it her rule never to get involved in personal, trivial quarrels. Her gifts were needed for greater things. There were some things Mortianna truly believed that people needed to work out on their own. Trust must be earned, not spoonfed.

The Sheriff took a sip from his cup of Mortianna's batwing tea. Before that, an hour after dusk - alas, the prearranged time he was supposed to meet with his lady; he indulged in two generous libations of the tincture of rapture in quick succession, and followed that with an ounce of the eleven hundred ninety four variety. As a result, he was finally able to clear his head of all of the intrusive thoughts that kept screaming in his mind. He could finally see everything…all so clearly.

He wondered now. Did he just spend his entire life running to, or running away from a lady such as Rhiannon? He was not destined to have a love so real. Remember? He thought…when you were sending Lady Marian away three years ago? You only wished to taste real love, not to hold unto it till you took your last breath in this life, he told himself.

He was who he was for a reason. He was the Sheriff of Nottingham, and he had done more good for this town than his predecessors. He knew he was born to carry out this duty. And he would never fail.

He was not meant to be a husband. Not meant to truly be loved by a woman. But he would be a father. He would have the love of a son and that would be enough for him. He never once entertained the notion that this would be so. And of course, if the stars dictated he was destined to continue on with his role as Sheriff, than of course! He would indeed be granted a son to follow him after he was gone! Rhiannon was only the instrument to bring it about! Or was she?

His head suddenly felt very light. He looked into his cup. What was in this batwing tea?

"Mortianna! Have you finally gone daft? Have you drugged me?" The Sheriff demanded as he closed his eyes a moment to focus.

Mortianna realized the idea held some appeal. "No, my child. Were you indulging in spirits before you came to see me?"

"Just brandy." The Sheriff said.

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have offered the batwing tea. They don't mix well. Not if you've taken more than one goblet of spirits." Mortianna sighed.

"Now you tell me!" The Sheriff huffed. "It doesn't matter. The evening air will clear my head." The Sheriff said. He stood up.

"I must go. Remember – not a word to her about the child if you should see her. I'm not ready to tell her yet. And you haven't seen me if she should ask. Luke will know where to find me." The Sheriff said.

"As you wish." Mortianna said.

Twenty minutes later, the Sheriff bade goodbye to Luke after giving him his instructions. He flew through the gates upon his black mare. His raven hair danced against the purple sky. The silver studs on his shiny black leather surcoat and gauntlets reflected and twinkled in the fading light as he made his way to Nettlestone. The stars were beginning to reveal themselves in the sky. By moonrise he shall behold his son.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Just before the Sheriff sat waiting in his den for his lady to turn up for their meeting, Rhiannon was strolling along the corridors trying to remain unobtrusive as she was brazenly disguised in the Sheriff's clothing. Finally she found the stairs in the distal end of the castle that would take her to the dungeon.

She smiled at her cunning.

Right after the Sheriff left Rhiannon standing paralyzed in the corridor near the Council Quarters, she went up into the private chambers. She went back to look through the Sheriff's clothing. She found a long, curious white linen cloak that was hooded, and a variety of masks along with the usual fare. She rummaged through the masks examining them. She chose one that was made of dark green leather, and would perfectly conceal the fact that she lacked facial hair. Like what one would wear at a masquerade. She couldn't believe her fortune. She never expected to find masks to further serve to conceal her identity! What did he do with these masks? She wondered.

She threw off her gown and changed into a black tunic and black breeches. She frowned. The breeches would need adjusting. She could work with the tunic, but the breeches would need some work.

She quickly changed back into her gown, and took the breeches with her to Madam Oberon's new quarters in the castle. She had just recently settled in there with her daughter Marie, whom the Sheriff approved the seamstress bring with her to continue lending her assistance to Madam Oberon.

"Forget the wedding gown, Madam Oberon. I need these breeches tailored to fit me and you must do it expediently. I'm giving you two hours. Can you succeed?" Rhiannon asked her.

"Oui. Ce n'est pas un probleme, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. J'aime un defi." Madam Oberon winked.

"You have my measurements. Hurry!" Rhiannon had implored her.

Madam Oberon was indeed talented. The breeches had been tailored to fit Rhiannon's curves perfectly. When she put them on and looked in the mirror, standing on the bed so she could see it, she smiled at how her body revealed itself better wearing them, then how she looked when her lower body was covered with a voluminous skirt. Was she wrong to feel more feminine looking at her reflection in that moment, than she had ever felt before? Was it because she now tasted power? Of what is was to be a man instead? She didn't care. For the first time in a long time, she was loving dressing up.

The breeches were black suede. Almost skin tight. They were tucked into the boots. The boots were a little big on her, but they could pass. She wore a long black doublet over the black tunic, and the Sheriff's white linen cloak over that. She had bound her breasts before she put on the tunic. Next she pulled back her hair before putting on the mask. Then she pulled up the hood. Next she added his black silver studded gauntlets. Unless she had to say very much, nobody would ever know, except that she was shorter in height, and a little smaller. When she looked in the mirror one last time before she left, she was satisfied. She almost looked like she could pass for the Sheriff.

She was alarmed to see there was an additional set of gates to pass through into the dungeon. Oh God. It was Alfred posted there!

"Good evening, my lord Sheriff." Alfred said.

"The…prisoners." Rhiannon choked out in a fake throaty voice.

"As you wish, my lord." Alfred said. The gates opened.

Rhiannon smiled as she walked down the corridor. "Ha! Men – they are so easy to fool!" She muttered to herself.

"My lord!" Joseph the jailer greeted her. "You're here to see the new prisoners, no doubt?" He asked.

Rhiannon nodded. She would need to keep her words as brief as possible with his staff to avoid detection. "The man…" She said, deepening her voice and lowering the volume so he wouldn't recognize it to be someone other than that of his master.

"I shall take you to him. Come." Joseph led the way. He took her to a cell. "Just inside this door, he awaits you." Joseph indicated.

"The key." Rhiannon said. She held out her gloved hand to him. She was glad she remembered to put on the gauntlets. Otherwise he would have known in that second she was an imposter.

Joseph gave it to her. "Leave us." She said.

Joseph regarded his master curiously but obeyed nonetheless. She went inside.

"Oh, great. You again!" Robert looked up. His shirt was torn and bloodied no doubt from the prescribed lashings the Sheriff ordered. She shuddered. "No trial I suppose? You're here to kill me…naturally." Robert said.

Rhiannon removed the mask from her face, lowered her hood, and stared at him.

"You." Robert said slowly. "My own sister. How did you acquire those garments? I tried to tell myself my suspicions were inaccurate when I saw you. But…you're the Sheriff's lady aren't you?" Robert said. It was not a question, it was a realization. "You. Of all the maidens in this kingdom!" He shook his head.

"Last I checked." She confirmed. "But I might not be anymore. Why are you here? What does he want you for?" Rhiannon asked. She felt sick looking at his bloody shirt.

Robert looked at her incredulous. If she was the Sheriff's lady, would she not know her own child was missing?

"Kidnapping." Robert said.

"Whose child is it?" Rhiannon asked.

"You don't know?" Robert asked, narrowing his eyes. What in the devil?

"No!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Do you uh…have children?" Robert asked suddenly.

"What? Of course I don't! I am not yet married. What kind of maiden do you take me for?" Rhiannon admonished. Though it was true she had been intimate, but only with one man. She shuddered as the memory of the other one who took liberties with her suddenly flashed through her mind. She cast the memory aside.

Naturally! Why didn't I figure it out? Robert thought. That sick monster! That child is the Sheriff's alright - any fool could see it, but obviously it was not Rhiannon's because she knew nothing of it! Robert wanted to kill him. That monster no doubt had been dallying behind his sister's back! Did she know he was unfaithful? He would wait to say something to Rhiannon about it.

"Did you send me the letter two years ago that told me of your demise?" She asked pointedly.

"I did." Robert confessed.

"Why?" She demanded angrily keeping her voice down so she wouldn't be heard. "Why would you choose to abandon me?"

"To protect you." He said.

"What?" She asked incredulous.

"I did it because I was wanted. I was wanted by your Sheriff." Robert stated.

Lady Rhiannon felt the room begin to spin. "Why were you wanted?" Rhiannon asked slowly in disbelief.

"Because I was one in Locksley's rabble. But…before I continue – how involved are you with….him?" Robert asked pointedly.

"I am engaged to be his wife." Rhiannon answered.

Robert sighed. This couldn't be happening! "Then, it is good I saw you earlier. To warn you not to acknowledge that you know me in any way." Robert said sternly.

"I don't understand?" Rhiannon pleaded with him.

"Don't you see? I was a follower of one of your betrothed's greatest enemies! He has not yet made the connection that he has captured one of the wanted men in Locksley's rabble. But when he does, I'll hang for certain. And if you are found to be my sister – he could hang you too!" Robert warned, keeping his voice down.

"No. He would never!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Trust me, he might." Robert said.

"You must explain yourself, brother. You at least owe me that! You must tell me…everything." She whispered.

And so, over the course of the next hour, he explained how he met up with Locksley and his companion, Azeem, the moor, and Peter Dubois, while captured in the Saracen prison in the Holy Land. He detailed their escape, their journey home, and how he came to be one of the merry men. Next he spoke of all that happened in the village square in ninety four, his escape from the grasp of the Sheriff then, and why he decided to pretend to be dead to her.

At the end of it, she felt sickened. She was filled with shock and fear. Fear for her brother. And fear at the thought of losing the Sheriff should he continue to go on believing that the man he knew to be his prisoner was her lover, instead of the truth. But could she risk him knowing the real truth? Would Robert die no matter what course of action she took? The Sheriff referred to her brother earlier, outside of the Council Quarters as "this doomed brigand", meaning - he planned to kill Robert anyway!

"Listen. I saw something written earlier about Locksley. The men wanted in connection to him. Your name was listed among the wanted fugitives, so the Sheriff knows your name. Tell me, brother, why has he not made the connection?" Rhiannon asked.

"I am still dead to you, right? Didn't I convey that to you in the afternoon?" Robert hinted. He sighed. "He thinks my name is Robert Whitfield." Robert said.

"Oh, Robert! I'll never be able to bring him around now! He thinks we are lovers! He saw us – he is convinced!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Better for him to think that is the truth. Better to be banished from his life, than for you to lose your life!" Robert reminded her.

She reached into her pocket. "I brought you some bread." She said. "Take it."

She put it in his hand. He took it from her wordlessly.

"I shall return." Rhiannon said. "You and I have some unfinished business. I cannot forgive you…yet." Her eyebrow raised to punctuate her words. She put the mask back on, and drew up the hood.

Robert smiled after she left. She turned out well. She was strong willed, tough as a soldier, and clever. Even though she was involved with the cursed Sheriff of Nottingham! He shook his head in disgust.

Rhiannon went to Joseph. She showed him the key. "I wish to keep it." She choked out the words in a forced deepened timbre. She tried not to cough. This was the only part of the charade that proved itself challenging. "You have one?" She asked the jailer.

"Yes, my lord." Joseph said.

She nodded. She pocketed the key and tried to mimic the Sheriff's confident stride as she took her leave.

And now she was back in the private chamber. She took the mask off her face, took off the cloak, and shook out her hair. It was very late. She realized she had been gone longer than expected. The Sheriff was gone. He was probably more angry now than he already was with her. She continued to undress and changed into her bath shirt. She needed to relax. She would soak in the tub. She would have a libation of brandy to calm her as well. She summoned the servants to bring forth buckets of hot water, and they prepared the bath to her specifications. She wanted to be at her best when he returned. She didn't want to be anxious. She placed the clothing she had of his into her trunk, along with the key the jailer gave to her. She would need these items again. Then she went into the bath chamber and took her goblet of brandy with her.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff banged on the door of Gisborne's manor. Where were his sentry?

Lady Margaret answered the knock on the door.

"Lady Margaret, what has happened to my guards?" He asked.

She invited him inside. "They have yet to arrive, my lord."

"What!" The Sheriff demanded.

"I don't know?" She shrugged.

"Alright, fine! I'll get to the bottom of it. Now…where is he?" The Sheriff asked.

"Come." Lady Margaret beckoned. She led him up the wooden steps to the second floor to Guy's chambers. There was a cradle inside the room. He slowly walked toward it.

The child was alert. He was waving his hands about. He had dark chestnut, curly hair, almost as dark as the Sheriff's. But his eyes were green. He had Rhiannon's eyes. The Sheriff gasped. He never paid much attention to infants before, but he saw his lady in this boy's eyes. There was no doubt about it. He saw himself, and he saw his lady…in this child. That was indeed his son.

He reached out to grab the child's hand. "My son." The Sheriff said quietly.

"You can hold him, you know." Lady Margaret said.

"But I – "

"He won't break for God's sake!" Lady Margaret rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She said. "Come and sit by the window. I shall bring your son to you." Lady Margaret directed him.

He obeyed. The babe was placed in his arms. He swallowed and regarded the child with a mixture of pure fear, and adulation. And a deep, genuine paternal love. And that of course, added to the fear. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Oh Rhiannon…" The Sheriff whispered. "If you could see him? But you betrayed me. Alas, it cannot be so…" He sighed.

The child looked up to the face. He looked through the amber eyes and knew in his soul that this was his father. He relaxed. He felt content. He tried to speak as if to say: "I know you.", and he knew all would be well.

The Sheriff opened his eyes. He looked into his son's eyes. "Do you know who I am?" The Sheriff asked. He sighed. "No. Of course you don't. But you shall. You will have everything you need, my son." The Sheriff smiled. Except one thing you need, he thought. He bent down and kissed the child's soft cheek.

He held the infant until the child fell asleep. He looked down upon him, and he longed to feel that again. Just for a moment. The innocence of being an infant. He wondered if he looked that content when was an infant himself? He thought on it a moment, then he shook his head. Somehow…he doubted it.

When the Sheriff opened the door to leave, he bumped into his Officers.

"Where the hell were you? Don't you know a child demands your protection?" The Sheriff barked.

"We were uh…at the tavern, my lord." Nigel said. "We were away a good many months. We were only celebrating with a goblet of good cheer."

"What? You have a duty to perform! Neither of you better have overindulged!" The Sheriff warned as he looked upon both of them.

"It shall not be repeated, sir." Richard said.

"Indeed." He looked to Richard. "I know that you were instrumental in getting my son home to me. I am grateful. But now you have been given a task of far greater importance. Do not fail me." The Sheriff warned as he bore his glowing amber eyes into Richard's green eyes.

"Yes, my lord." Richard said.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours past moonrise, near to the witching hour, the Sheriff strode along the corridor toward his private chambers.

Alfred was back at his usual post. His eyes did a double take when he saw the Sheriff coming. How did the Sheriff change into different clothes so quickly? Alfred was staring at him.

"What are you looking at?" The Sheriff huffed.

"Didn't I just see you not long ago, on your way into the dungeon?" Alfred asked him.

"I haven't visited the dungeon yet!" The Sheriff said as he regarded Alfred curiously. Had this man been drinking mead too? Or was it the head injury he'd recently suffered that was making him daft?

"My. Aren't you all a paltry lot?" The Sheriff snarled. "Let me guess. You went to the tavern with Nigel and Richard." The Sheriff said.

"No, my lord." Alfred said.

"Well something's wrong with you if you appear to be seeing illusions!" The Sheriff remarked shaking his head. He looked at him curiously one last time, then went inside the door to the den.

Rhiannon was sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. Her book was laying on her lap. A silver goblet of brandy was beside her on the floor. She was wearing her navy velvet gown that Madam Oberon made for her. She was dressed like she was going to leave? Why was he not surprised?

He went toward her. He bent down and picked up the goblet and set it on the table, then he stood in front of her.

"Rhiannon." He spoke. He didn't lower his voice.

She opened her eyes and looked up into his. He stood over her looking down coldly at her. Like…all love was lost from his eyes. She didn't know this man before her.

"I hope you're rested, my dear. I don't care if we are awake all night. You are going to talk. Get up!" The Sheriff commanded.

She swallowed. Could all of this really be happening? How could she go to sleep, and wake up, and just by a change in the calendar have her whole life ruined? She was so angry at Robert and George right now she wanted to kill both of them. Damn them both to hell! All she did wrong was trust and love them. You fool! She chastised herself. Each of them helped her to see the light again. She's always said she needed no one. And they had both proven to her why she always lived by this motto - all in one day! They had both proven that she could never expect to count on anybody! Not even them!

She arose and sat up. Damn. The pain was coming back. She would have to bear it. She had endured worse pain.

Endured worse pain…

When? Why did she just think of that? She took a breath and tried not to let him see she held it.

"Talk." The Sheriff said.

She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"I saw the intimate exchange of glances you and that Whitfield character shared today. Don't try to deny it! I want you to admit it. You just might be forgiven." The Sheriff said through his clenched jaw.

"Admit what exactly?" She asked angrily. This was unreal. Was she in some sort of nightmare she couldn't wake from? Or was she now finally seeing the infamous Sheriff of Nottingham that everyone was so quick to remind her about?

"You were with him. I know it. What – you take me for a fool?" The Sheriff spat. "Fine. You'll never admit it, I can see that now. So tell me this then: what exactly of our time together was real to you?" The Sheriff demanded.

"All of it." Rhiannon answered without hesitation.

"No. Let me rephrase that. When did the lying start?" The Sheriff asked.

"I never lied to – "

"Silence!" He bellowed. "Now you're lying about lying! Do you even know what is truth?" He asked incredulous. "What was the reason you became involved with me?" The Sheriff asked directly.

"This is ludicrous. You know why! I told you how I fell for you?" Rhiannon said.

"No. I want to hear it again. I want to see if it's the same as what you told me before, or are you having difficulty getting your story straight?" He sneered.

"How dare you!" Rhiannon shouted.

"Thought so. You cannot remember. Well, let me tell you something – I already know what your intent was!" The Sheriff said.

"Oh, this should be good." Rhiannon said, folding her arms. "Why don't you enlighten me then?" She demanded.

"Does the word 'opportunist' ring a bell with you?" The Sheriff asked. His left eyebrow shot north when he said it. Normally she would've been warmed when he executed that mindless facial expression. Instead, she felt cold as ice.

"You thought I was after your wealth?" Rhiannon exclaimed. She shook her head. This was overwhelming! Damn Robert for asking her not to say anything! All of this could've been resolved if she could just tell the Sheriff that Robert was her brother. But now she wondered…if the Sheriff could think her capable of all of this, would he really be worth holding onto?

She shook her head. "I cannot believe that you would believe this of me. That you would lose total faith in me. Doubt every kind word I ever said to you. I was wrong to trust in you." Rhiannon whispered.

"Is that all you have to say? Because I'm not sure if I can even believe that marvelous display of affection. Maybe you should take a bow, my dear. For you have performed well." The Sheriff hissed.

She just stood there frozen. She shook her head, staring at him.

"We shall continue this discussion later!" The Sheriff snapped. And then he left her. She didn't know where he was headed.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was dawn. The Sheriff hadn't returned. She doubted he would come back for quite some time. Could she risk what she was about to do?

She took her chances. She opened the trunk, and quickly changed into the Sheriff's clothes. The same garb she wore last night. She made a decision. She was going to speak to Robert. She looked in the mirror as she pulled back her hair. Then she picked up the mask and put it on. She pulled up the hood. She grabbed the key, and the Sheriff's dagger - the same one she used to wound the vile madman who held her captive. She might need it if anything should go awry.

Once again her plan worked. She was standing before the jailer again, just at the door of the dungeon.

"My lord. Back again so soon?" Joseph said.

Rhiannon nodded.

"You may go inside – it is your dungeon." Joseph said.

"Yes." Rhiannon muttered in a forced deepened voice.

She unlocked Robert's cell door and stepped inside.

"Robert?" She called.

Robert looked up. "What are you doing? You're taking too great a risk!" Robert admonished.

"I've made a decision." Rhiannon announced.

"Alright. Let's have it." Robert said.

"I'm telling the Sheriff that you are my brother." Rhiannon said vehemently.

The Sheriff arrived at the door of the dungeon. He'd put this meeting off long enough.

"Joseph." The Sheriff said to his jailer.

Joseph jumped and gasped when he saw the Sheriff.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Has everybody gone mad around here?" The Sheriff exclaimed.

"No, my lord. But…you're supposed to be…over there!" Joseph said. His eyes were widened. He pointed toward a cell about thirty feet away.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "Over…where?" The Sheriff asked slowly, incredulously as he looked in the direction that Joseph pointed to. He strode over to the door and threw it open. It banged loudly on the wall behind it to announce his presence in what was becoming his signature dungeon etiquette panache.

Rhiannon turned around and jumped. She let out a gasp.

"What the hell – " The Sheriff began, then stopped when the dawn of realization came over him. He went toward the peculiar individual who was dressed exactly like him, in his own clothes, and ripped the mask from Rhiannon's face.

"No…" The Sheriff gasped with a look of horror in his eyes. He felt like she had just thrust a knife into his back. He shook his head.

"Wait a minute - " Rhiannon began. She was interrupted.

"Rhiannon…don't!" Robert implored her.

"You lying little wretch!" The Sheriff barked. "Try and explain this one why don't you?" He demanded.

"I needed to see my…friend." Rhiannon said looking away.

He shook his head. He wanted to strangle her. At the same time he resisted the urge to lick his lips as he eyed her up and down appreciatively. How did she get his breeches to fit her like that? She looked…amazingly sensual dressed like that. They were skin tight, they revealed every curve. He felt himself grow hard. Damn the woman!

"Just say it!" The Sheriff demanded. "Stop lying to me, lady!" He shouted.

"Say what?" She asked.

He stood a moment, breathing hard as he glared at her. He pointed his sword in the direction of his prisoner.

"Do you love him?" He asked pointedly. He raised his eyebrow again suspiciously.

"Why are you doing this?" Rhiannon asked. A tear spilled from the corner of her eye. She tried her best to ignore it and bit her lip in trepidation.

"Answer me!" The Sheriff barked.

She looked at Robert. He was no help! He was shaking his head, giving her a look of warning! Was he jesting? After all this? No. She could attempt to explain that Robert was her brother. But she knew now that the Sheriff would never believe her, because Robert likely wouldn't back her up. The Sheriff would assume she lied about all that she had said about him too! Curses!

She backed toward the door regarding both of them. "I'll tell you the answer!" Rhiannon shouted. "I used to dearly love the both of you. But now…I hate you both instead!"

Then she ran through the dungeon, down the corridors, through the additional gates, and kept running, then up the stairs and down through the long hallway of the main floor. She ran past the Office, then the Council Quarters. Some of the Sheriff's staff saw her, regarding her strangely over her manner of dress. She recognized the Scribe, Thomas Crumwell, and some of his Knights. Let them think what they want!

She ran out into the gardens, and escaped in the mazes that clothed the landscape. It was raining. What did it matter? It was raining in her soul too. It was perfect, the weather completely matched her mood. She found a bench to sit on. She began to weep. She laid down upon it, the raindrops mixed in with her tears. She tried to control it, but it was futile. Perhaps the rain would wash her pain away, if only for a little while.