Note: Okayyyy so writing about sick characters backfired as I myself got a cold, with some delay, here is the new chapter! Enjoy!

PART 2: MOLLIE

Chapter 5: Daughter, Sister, Mollie

In the depths of Nottingham Castle, behind the stone walls, lived the Sherif's Witch. Not the old Witch, with crazy eyes and a shrieking voice. But her daughter, the beautiful copy of Mortianna, whose eyes weren't as threatening and her voice was even pleasant to listen to.

Mollie Hartley grew up in the castle's basement with her mother for company. But she wasn't much of a company.

Mortianna's attention would often go to Mollie's half-brother, the Sheriff of Nottingham. Her older brother and she were half-siblings but not through the lineage of the Witch, as most people gossiped, but the common father they shared.

Barstow Hartley of Nothingham should have known better than to refuse Mortianna's love.

That was what the Witch told her daughter when Mollie came of age and began to wonder why she didn't have a father.

He never started to love Mortianna, not even after she presented him with their child, so the Witch killed him and took his orphaned son under her wing to preserve the memory of Barstow in her life.

Mortianna told her daughter to never allow a man to mistreat her love.

Which was something Mollie kept in mind since a young child and what started as a seed of wariness planted there by her mother turned into blatant avoidance of strangers who showed a liking towards her.

Eighteen years of existence had sculpted Mollie into a captivating sight. Cascading waves of golden hair danced down her back, each strand catching the sunlight with a brilliance that enchanted those she passed by. Her eyes, one a serene blue reminiscent of the clearest summer sky, and the other a deep green mirroring the mysteries of a dense forest, held a magnetic charm that drew gazes like a siren's call. Mollie's beauty was legendary in Nothingham, often whispered about in hushed tones among the castle's inhabitants.

Yet, beyond her mesmerizing exterior, Mollie harbored a troubled spirit. Her mind was a ceaseless whirlwind, ever calculating and strategising. Even though she projected an air of confidence, beneath it lay a tempest of nerves and meticulous planning.

The Witch's favoritism toward her brother left her to wander the castle's corridors seeking validation, acknowledgment and a word of approval from whoever it may came, but such words seldom found their way to her.

The Sheriff commanded fear and subservience from most. Mollie didn't make an exception. Therefore in his presence, she wore a facade of obedience. She knew how to placate his volatile temperament, offering nods of agreement and portraying an unwavering loyalty. It was a practiced dance of survival she had mastered early in her childhood.

Yet, underlying her compliance, Mollie understood the power of manipulation and knew how to wield it to her advantage. When it needed to be, she planted seeds of ideas in her brother's mind, gently nudging him toward decisions that might align with her own intentions. Like how she would tell him he could win himself a woman's approval if he would show her kindness instead of submitting her with fear. Mollie often felt for his mistresses as they were girls her age, so she tried to influence her brother in their favour. Sometimes it worked.

She was well aware of his cruelty, so she knew to weight her words in his presence to avoid triggering his wrath herself.

Guy of Gisbourne felt more like an older brother than her own ever did. Their bond was her refuge.

"Mollie, my dear," Guy's voice echoed in the castle's corridors, snapping her out of her thoughts as she wandered aimlessly.

Mollie looked up, a glimmer of yearning in her eyes. She often sought Guy's attention. After all, he was the one who acknowledged her, who bestowed warmth in a palace where tenderness was scarce.

"I've been searching for my cousin," Guy continued as he came to a stop before her. "Have you seen him?"

"Not recently," she lied without battling an eye. She knew her brother was currently in the basement, seeking a word with the Witch. But the basement was only meant for family. "He might be in his study. I could check for you if you'd like."

Guy nodded. "Please do." His steely gaze softened as he regarded her. "How are you holding up? You seem troubled."

A smile curved on her lips. Guy's kind gestures and casual conversations always had this effect on her. He treated her like she mattered. "Just the usual, you know how it is in this castle, boring and lonely," she replied with a light chuckle. "But I'll go find him for you and ask him to meet you in the Great Hall."

Guy inclined his head in thanks, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he resumed his stride down the corridor to go there. Mollie watched him go.

Just as Mollie turned, she heard Guy call her again. Turning around, she asked, "Is everything all right?"

His gaze was discerning as he looked left and right, making sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. He came before her and kept his voice a whisper, "I was curious about our… guest. How is he?"

The mention of their 'guest' made her pulse quicken, but she maintained her composed facade. "All is under control," she replied smoothly, keeping her voice steady. "He's well taken care of, and no one suspects a thing. I assure you."

Guy's brow furrowed slightly, his expression one of concern. "You know my cousin wouldn't react kindly if he discovered our deception."

A calculated calmness washed over her features as she held his gaze. "Of course, but trust me, I have it handled."

He nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered in his eyes. "As you say, Mollie. But if you ever need assistance…" His offer hung in the air.

"Thank you. Your concern means a lot," she replied, gratitude laced in her words. She adjusted her posture, steeling herself, and adding as an afterthought, "Please pass on my regards to your mother. It's been too long since we last crossed paths."

Guy nodded. "I will, Mollie. She often inquires about you, you know."

A flicker of surprise flashed in Mollie's eyes before she masked it with a gracious smile. "I appreciate that. Please tell her I think of her often."

With a nod of mutual acknowledgement, Mollie told him she would notify her brother that he is looking for him and they parted ways.

Mollie descended the stone steps leading to the depths of Nottingham Castle, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by flickering torches that barely illuminated the way. The air grew heavy, laden with the musty scent of dampness and aged stone.

The basement was a labyrinth of abandoned chambers. It was here where Mollie found her brother most often if he were in the castle, secluded away with her mother in her hidden quarters.

As she came upon the corridor's end, the sound of raised voices reached her ears. Mollie hesitated at the door.

Her brother's voice, filled with venomous frustration, carried through the stone walls. The heavy oak wood muffled his voice, yet she could still hear what he was saying.

"Locksley is out there, hiding like a coward in Sherwood Forest! And that cousin of mine, that imbecile, can't do a thing about it," her brother spat out.

Her mother's voice, however, was just a whisper laced with a touch of sinister calmness. "Patience, my dear. All things come to those who wait."

Her mother must have sensed her presence because opened the door for her before Mollie even dared to do so herself.

The Witch's eyes, hauntingly similar to Mollie's mismatched ones, fixated on her daughter's silhouette in the doorway, revealing no surprise to see her.

As a child, Mollie used to joke with her brother that the Witch possessed a gaze that seemed to pierce through solid walls.

"Daughter," her mother's voice sounded soft.

Mollie swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her chest. Her brother's wrath unnerved her. But more so her mother's calmness. The Witch, as her mother herself liked to be called, was usually either in a state of euphoria or blatant rage. Never calm. Mollie mustered the courage to step into the dimly lit chamber, unsure of what to expect from her. The air felt thick with tension, suffocating almost. "I am sorry for interrupting."

The room was austere, decorated sparingly with tapestries depicting scenes of dark magic and ancient rituals. A single table occupied the centre, adorned with scattered artifacts.

Her brother was behind the table. His eyes burned with anger as he paced the room, his voice rising with each word that spilled from his lips. "I need the Witch at the moment, whatever it is you have to say can wait."

Mortianna, shrouded in darkness at the corner of the room, watched Mollie with an unnerving calmness before her voice broke through the tense atmosphere. "Come closer, child. Tell us, what is it that brought you here."

Her voice pulled Mollie further into the room. She edged closer, her steps uncertain. She felt small, insignificant. Mortianna's gaze never wavered from her daughter's.

As she came under the light of a flickering torch, Mollie's eyes shifted between her brother and her mother.

"I..." Her voice betrayed her by disappearing. Her brother's eyes narrowed in discontent.

Before she could gather the courage to speak, her mother's voice sliced through the tension like a knife. "Speak your mind freely or do not speak at all."

She wasn't the only one to lose her patience.

"What do you want, sister?" The Sheriff snapped. His eyes locked onto Mollie's with a ferocity that sent a chill down her spine. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Mollie stumbled over her words, a knot forming in her throat. "I-I can... Guy is looking for you, brother," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her brother's lips curled into a sneer. "Guy," he spat the name with disdain, his tone dripping with contempt. "Why? Has he killed Locksley? If he hasn't and has the audacity to come see me, I will kill him with my own hands!"

Mollie lowered her gaze and bit into her lip. She wanted to retreat, to fade into the shadows and disappear from her brother's wrathful gaze. But she stood her ground, her hands trembling at her sides, as she was forced to explain herself. "He mentioned no such thing. He merely asked to see you."

As the Sheriff continued his tirade of insulting their cousin, Mollie glanced at her mother, finding solace in the unusual calmness of Mortianna. The Witch's voice interrupted her brother's rambling. "Perhaps it's time for you both to join Guy, upstairs, and see why he's come to see you."

Her words hung in the air, leaving no room for protest. The Sheriff's piercing gaze flickered between his sister and her mother. He sighed and walked past Mollie.

Mollie trailed behind her brother's heavy footsteps. Why did the Witch have to include her too?

The ascent was torturous.

The Sheriff strode ahead, leaving Mollie trailing behind.

She struggled to keep up with her brother's relentless stride.

The Sheriff's voice pierced through the silence. "Do you have something to say, sister? Or are you content with just trailing behind?"

Mollie forced herself to speak, her heart pounding against her ribs, and her words stumbled out in a trembling whisper. "I-I'm just... following you, brother."

Looking back over his shoulder, the Sheriff's eyes narrowed. He was scrutinizing her, as if probing for signs of weakness. "You need to be more self-assured. This tameness won't get you far."

Mollie bit her lip and nodded her head, before looking down, suppressing the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth.

It wasn't all fear and obedience that she harboured inside.

There was a lot of anger she was holding back.

The way he talked to her was beginning to frustrate her. Like he had the right to terrorise her. How much longer would she allow him to talk down to her? But what was worse, the way she would hear him talk to Guy upset her even more.

Yet she kept silent instead of saying anything back.

"Enough of your excuses, Guy!" The Sheriff's voice thundered through the Great Hall, the force of his fury sending tremors through the room. "I've grown weary of your incompetence in capturing this Robin of Locksley!"

Mollie stood to the side while the two men faced each other. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest as she glared at her brother.

The Sheriff's piercing gaze was fixed on Guy of Gisbourne. His voice once again laced with venomous demands. It was a familiar scene. One she'd witnessed all too often. But she couldn't bear to listen to her brother's cruel tongue any longer.

"Enough, brother," Mollie interjected softly, stepping forward. Her hands curled into fists which trembled by her sides. "Our cousin has served you loyally, and he's done everything you've asked of him."

The Sheriff's attention snapped to Mollie, his expression darkening. "Stay out of this, sister. This doesn't concern you."

"You know as well as I do that Guy has done everything within his power to capture Robin of Locksley," Mollie continued, with more courage than she knew she had. Having Guy by her side made speaking her mind easier.

Her brother's gaze snapped towards her once again and fury flashed in his eyes. "I said stay out of this! You know nothing of matters concerning Locksley!"

Guy, stoic as usual, raised a calming hand. "I assure you, cousin, I've pursued every lead. I terrorised every village. Every man, every woman, every child."

The Sheriff's face contorted with rage. "Your feeble justifications are tiresome, cousin! Your incompetence has cost me too much!"

Mollie hesitated, her heart pounding in her ears, her instincts pushing her to intervene yet again. "Perhaps the issue lies not with his capability but with the challenge of the task itself."

Guy's gaze fixed upon her. "Are you suggesting I'm incapable of catching a common thief?"

Mollie swallowed hard, her voice quivering slightly. "No. I only meant—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Guy's sudden anger caught her off guard. "You speak out of turn, Mollie. I take full responsibility for the failure to capture Robin of Locksley. It's my shortcoming, not Robin's merit."

Mollie's heart sank. The last thing she expected was for Guy to turn on her.

She struggled to maintain composure, her eyes betraying the hurt that clawed at her insides.

If her brother's dismissal felt like an open wound, Guy's sudden shift cut like a thousand daggers piercing through her chest.

Her jaw clenched as a fire ignited within her.

The two men continued to talk, not giving her any more mind. Mollie watched but did not listen. Her gaze was steady, but her mind worked furiously.

She would not be talked down upon.

She would not be a mere bystander in her brother's quest for dominance.

Nor Guy's.

Because deep in her bones she knew he acted this way towards her only because she was the easier target in the room. His anger wasn't her fault. She tried to help him.

"I'll show you," she whispered suddenly, the words laced with determination as she clenched her fists by her sides.

They would soon learn that she was not to be underestimated.

The conversation in the room halted and both men turned to look at her.

"You will show me what?" her brother spat.

She lifted her head, her jaw set, determination burning in her eyes.

"In one week's time, Robin of Locksley will be at your feet... and you will both be kissing mine."

Her declaration echoed through the chamber with a chilling certainty.

"You will catch Robin of Locksley?" The Sheriff's initial shock dissolved into a bellowing laughter.

A cold wave washed through Mollie.

His laughter was a mockery, yet she refused to falter.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. It bubbled up from the depths of her being, a laughter that sounded genuine and carefree, and started small, almost a reluctant response to her brother's mockery. Soon her laughter mingled with his, and their laughter echoed in the hall.

Yet her inner resolve burned brighter than ever.

She would make good on her promise. Not just for their sake but to reclaim her dignity in the eyes of those who overlooked her. She would prove them wrong, show them her worth, and command the respect she deserved.

She shot a final smile at her brother before leaving.

She will show them. The smile on her face immediately disappeared.

A sense of helplessness gnawed at her, so she forced a deep breath in, trying to focus.

Robin Hood, the man who was quickly turning into a legend, was in Sherwood Forest.

Her brother's nemesis, the thorn in his side, the name she had heard whispered in the corridors of the castle, was hiding in Sherwood Forest.

This was her chance, her leverage, her opportunity to prove herself. To her brother. To her mother. Even to herself.

Mollie's mind worked like a whirlwind, calculating the possibilities.

What was she to do?

Her steps echoed as she strode away, a plan already forming in her mind.

If she managed to become part of the outlaws hiding in the forest... If she managed to win lord Robin's loyalty...

Then she would figure out a way to lure him to Nottingham!

She didn't want to kill him in Sherwood Forest.

She wanted to give her ungrateful brother the gift of killing him. Not because he deserved this gift from her, but to show him she was the better one among them. She was the one who would do what he and their cousin had repeatedly failed to do.

She will capture Robin of Locksley.

With no soldiers, no arsenal, no weapon.

Just with the charm she knew she had and the magic pulsing in her veins.

Gifts neither her brother or cousin possessed.

Note: Tadaa this is the premise for this story's opposition! Let me know what you think, I'm sooo curious!