Note: You've been paying attention to the previous chapters! I've been waiting for this revelation for SO LONG, itching to write it ever since I had the idea, but there were just so many chapters in between! The time has FINALLY ARRIVED. The title of this chapter is inspired by the song 'Die Schatten werden länger' which means The Shadows Grow Longer, in performance of Gino Emnes, Lukas Perman, Mark Seibert, Oedo Kuipers. Even though it's for a musical that has nothing to do with the story of Robin Hood and the lyrics are not related to this fanfic, the dramatism is just perfect, so if you like musicals, check it out :)) Writing this chapter took me longer than I expected, I guess the more excitement there is, the bigger the paralysis. But it's finally done! Enjoy!

Chapter 13: The Shadows Grow Longer

The cool air within the cave immediately soothed his flaming skin. He sank onto the rocky floor with a groan, leaning his back against the stone wall and trying to catch his breath.

For a moment, he simply sat there.

This was the same cave where he had found refuge with Robin during the storm. A refuge then, and now again. His hand brushed over the rough stone as he tried to make himself comfortable. No matter how he sat, his torso still throbbed with pain.

His ankle had long healed from the trauma of his fall on that stormy day. But as his luck would have it, the old pain was replaced by new from the brawl with those scumbags.

The sting of the beating was nothing compared to the humiliation burning inside him. He should have fought harder to stand his ground.

Instead, he had to be saved!

His hands clenched into fists, he held them so tightly that his knuckles whitened under the strain.

Engrossed in his own defeat, he didn't register what became audible in his ears with time.

A faint rustling from deeper within the cave.

At last, the unexpected noise made his heart leap into his throat and he jerked to the side to face the source. Every breath sent a dull ache to his bruised ribs. At that moment, it felt like the last of his worries.

The cave had seemed empty. Quiet. Safe.

Now the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something was there.

His hand instinctively went to his dagger, but his hand grasped nothing but air. Right. He forgot it.

Silently, he rose to his feet, his muscles tensed as he crept toward the sound. Should he leave? He was in no condition to put on a fight. If it was a wild animal, he was as good as dead. There were no bears in Nottinghamshire anymore... were there?

The cave became darker further in as the light from the entrance barely reached the depths.

The air felt heavier the deeper he went.

Then he saw them—the shadows—they spread inside, like tendrils—going all the way to…

As he rounded a bend, his breath caught in his throat.

A man stood there, staring back at him with the same wide-eyed shock that Will felt.

For a split moment, both of them stood there, too startled to do anything other than stare.

The man's clothes were tattered, his face gaunt, but his bearing—there was something about him. Something familiar.

"Who are you?" Will managed to ask after the initial shock wore off, though his posture was tense and his fists were ready to defend him if it came to it.

The man blinked, as if snapping out of a trance.

He stepped forward, slowly, and Will staggered backwards on instinct, putting distance between them.

As the man came closer to the light, Will saw a sight he wasn't prepared for.

The man's hair was matted, hanging in uneven clumps around his face. It might have been a rich chestnut colour once, but now it was streaked with dirt and grime. His beard, unkempt and wild, grew in patches, making him look like a vagrant. His cheeks were hollow, the skin stretched thin over sharp cheekbones, and his eyes—sunken deep into their sockets—held a haunted look.

His clothes, though once fine, were now in tatters. The remnants of a richly embroidered tunic clung to his frame, the fabric torn and stained beyond recognition. The sleeves were frayed, and the hem was ripped.

The man's hands were rough and calloused, with dirt caked under his nails. His fingers trembled slightly, though whether from exhaustion or something more, Will couldn't tell.

But it was his eyes that struck Will the most. They were a deep brown, filled with hope, perhaps, or desperation. They were the eyes of a man who had once commanded respect, who had once been someone important, but who had been reduced to this shadow of his former self.

"I am no threat to you," the man's voice was a rushed whisper and he rubbed his throat as if something was preventing him from talking louder. "My name is Robert of Locksley. I need… I need help."

Did he hear right?

Surely he didn't.

Because what he heard was impossible.

"Who?" He felt dumb for asking when he already heard what he said, yet he didn't bother to hide his disbelief.

"I am Robert of Locksley," the man's voice trembled as he repeated, and he looked around wildly, as if expecting someone—or something—to appear at any moment. When he was assured they were still alone, his eyes bore into Will with such conviction that he was tempted to believe him.

Will's stomach twisted.

What he was saying was nonsense.

He took another step back, shaking his head. "That's not possible. Lord Locksley is dead."

The unkempt man furrowed his eyebrows and hissed impatiently with a pleading shimmer in his dark eyes, "I assure you, I am very much alive. She—she's keeping me here, trapped."

A frown formed on Will's face.

"There's a girl," the old man whispered, desperation etched into every line of his face. "She uses the shadows. She binds me with them... ties me to this place. She's gone now. You must help me escape before she returns. Please. I can't stay here any longer. This is no way to live!"

Will stepped back when the man stepped closer, his pulse quickening in his ears.

Suddenly, the old man lunged forward, grabbing his arm with an iron grip, and shaking him. "You have to help me!"

The touch sent a painful jolt through Will's body. He couldn't breathe as his heart pounded loudly in his chest.

The shadows around them shifted ominously, Will's breath hitched and he yanked his arm free.

He had to get out of here. Away from the madness. Away from the darkness closing in.

He wanted to bolt for the entrance.

Yet the man's wide and desperate eyes made him hesitate for a moment. "You... you have to help me..." his voice dropped to a vulnerable whisper.

Will blinked, unsure if the exhaustion was making him see things. This couldn't be real. Lord Locksley was supposed to be a ghost, long dead. And Mollie… why would she… this couldn't be real…

"What's your name, boy?" the old man rasped, his voice unsteady, as if he was about to try one last time to get through him.

"Will."

The old man stepped forward again, more hesitantly this time around, keeping his hands up to show he wasn't going to do anything to him.

Will's eyes flickered over the man's face. He couldn't see any resemblance to the Lord he had heard of. He'd never seen Lord Locksley before. Only heard the stories and rumours that surrounded the name. What was he looking for? Resemblance to Robin? To himself? Whatever it was, he couldn't see any of it in him.

His hands felt clammy when he curled them in fists by his sides. "If you are who you say you are… prove it."

The old man's hand trembled as he pulled beneath his tattered shirt. His eyes widened as he was left empty-handed.

"My medallion, it was taken from me when I was imprisoned, I no longer possess anything to prove my name to you..."

He had seen a medallion hanging from Robin's neck countless times.

"What does it look like?"

"It's a small, worn medallion. The Locksley family crest is engraved into the metal. Many people think it to be a sword. It isn't. It's supposed to be a dagger."

Will swallowed hard, his head spinning. He remembered seeing something similar engraved on Robin's medallion…

"How… how are you still alive? Robin… your own son buried you."

He heard this from Much who heard it from Robin himself.

The Lord's face twisted in pain and his voice cracked. "My son! Robin-Is he alive? Is he back?!"

Will nodded mutely as the frantic man came awfully close and grabbed onto his sleeves.

The lord's eyes filled with tears and he looked aside as he struggled to compose himself. Despite the turmoil he was undergoing, a smile spread on his face. It took him a while to gather himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his chin trembled uncontrollably. Despite the turmoil, a smile slowly spread across his weathered face.

"My boy… he's alive. Lord almighty…"

The words were barely a whisper but they were loud in the silence of the cave. Will didn't dare to speak, to move, to swallow even.

The Lord's knees gave out beneath him, and he sank to the ground as if the strength had been drained from his body. The shadows of the cave seemed to wrap around him, binding his wrists and ankles.

He wept. His shoulders began to heave and this old man wept on the ground, releasing the years of sorrow, pain, and guilt that had weighed him down. Even as he was reduced to a weeping old man on the cold, hard ground, the smile never left his face.

Will's sore muscles tightened as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

He had never seen a man brought to such a vulnerable state.

He felt the rough stone under his boots as his instinct was telling him to retreat.

For all his bravado, all the fights he had been in, this—this moment—was something he wasn't prepared for.

"How… how did you find him?" The old man's voice trembled as he turned to him with a tear-streaked face, stopping Will where he was.

Will swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around himself. "I-I didn't, m'lord," he stammered, his voice betraying his nervousness. "He found me... us, I mean. He's back in Nottingham. Well, Sherwood, actually. Leading the people from Nottingham into a rebellion."

The Lord gasped. "He's in Sherwood?"

Will nodded mutely.

"You have to bring him here!"

"With all due respect... I still don't believe you're who you're saying to be."

The Lord looked at him like he was crazy.

But Will just pointed at him with a cool expression. "It sounds like a trap. For you to pretend to be who you are, in front of me, who doesn't know what Lord Locksley is supposed to look like, so I would rush back to camp and bring Robin here who would come without much of a second thought if I told him I found his father here. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

The old man blinked repeatedly before grasping the nearest wall to push himself on shaky feet.

"It wasn't me who Robin has buried," he said, brushing the tears from his face with a wild head shake. "Someone must have staged everything. A lie to make the world think I was dead. I've been trapped ever since I was taken from my home, kept alive, bound by these shadows."

Despite the throbbing of his injuries, adrenaline was keeping Will on his feet.

"I tried to..." The Lord whispered when he read that his words weren't getting through him. "I tried to get an answer from that girl, why she's doing this to me, but couldn't. I tried to escape - but couldn't. Her power—those shadows—every time I tried to escape, they pulled me back. But now… she's gone. This is my only chance to get away. You are my only chance..." The Lord's eyes filled with desperation as his pleas were met with silence. "I have no way to prove it beyond giving you my word. But you must believe me. You have to help me. Please."

Will glanced toward the cave entrance, then back at the Lord.

There were so many questions, so much he didn't understand. But one thing was clear. If this man was truly who he was saying, he couldn't leave him behind.

Even if it wasn't, he still couldn't turn a blind eye to someone in desperate need of help.

He couldn't leave him.

Not like this.

He moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he regarded the shadows binding his hands and ankles. "Let's get you out of here."

Will reached out to pull the old man forward, but as soon as he did, the shadows around the Lord seemed to tighten. Inky tendrils wrapped around his limbs and pulled him back. Will yanked harder, but the shadows resisted, holding the Lord in place as if he were bound by iron chains.

The old man cried out with desperation. "No, no! This won't work! They won't let me go!"

Panic surged through Will as he tried to pry the shadows away again. His hands clawed at the dark tendrils around his arms and legs.

No matter how hard he pulled, no matter how much strength he mustered, the shadows refused to yield.

"What is this?" Will gasped. "How do I free you?"

"I don't know," Robert's voice cracked. "They won't let me go with force. That's why you have to bring help."

Will's breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled against the shadows one more time. His nails were close to bleeding from the effort he put into hurting them. But it was no use. The shadows didn't react to his scraping.

How could he fight something he couldn't even touch?

He tried again, this time stomping the tendrils with all his weight, but the shadows only tightened their hold, dragging the Lord further into the darkness. Will's hands slipped from the Lord's, and he stumbled back, panting with exhaustion.

"I… I can't," Will choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't free you..."

The Lord's eyes filled with acceptance and his voice trembled when he spoke. "I know, son. You must leave here and bring help before she returns."

Will stared at him in shock.

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

Before he knew it, Will slumped to the ground, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As his breathing ragged, his muscles trembled from exhaustion. The weight of the moment pressed down on him. His hands curled into fists, trembling as he stared at the man who claimed to be Robert of Locksley—truly seeing him for the first time.

The gaunt, haggard face before him.

Will's breath hitched, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never seen Robert of Locksley in person, had only ever heard stories of the great Lord he was.

Even though he first didn't see any sign that this could be truly him, now, as he sat there, he felt an eerie, sickening recognition.

All of a sudden, he could see similarities with Robin.

The deep-set eyes.

Will's fists clenched harder.

Could it really be?

His stomach twisted and he felt sick in his mouth.

Lord Robert of Locksley.

He'd rather put his bet that the man before him was some poor loon. Someone who had convinced himself to be the dead Lord to deal easier with the reality of being trapped like a prisoner. At the same time, the emotion he portrayed when he learned Robin was alive felt very real. Could someone fake that?

Will swallowed hard, his throat dry. His hands shook as they dropped to his sides. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask about his mother and see whether this old man knew of her. And if he did, if this was truly him, he wanted to ask why. Why had he been left behind? Why had his father sent his mother away, forcing her to keep him a secret? Why was his own father a stranger in every way?

He couldn't voice any of it. Not now.

The old man's frantic gaze flickered over Will's face. "You must leave before she returns."

Will looked away, biting back the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"You must go and tell someone about what you know. Get help."

Go all the way back to camp to get help? Will pressed his lips together. Pearls of sweat were building on his hairline. He didn't think he could do this at the moment.

The Lord studied Will for a moment, his eyes narrowing all of a sudden.

"Where are you from, boy?"

Will tensed at the question, his mind spinning.

The question felt random but Will's lack of reaction to the Lord's words and demands probably led him to believe that he was ignoring him.

He swallowed hard, pushing the tremor from his voice. "I'm from Mansfield."

The Lord's brow furrowed. "Mansfield?" His voice revealed his surprise. "Not from my lands, then."

Will shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground, his hands flexing in his lap. "No, not from your lands." The words felt heavy on his tongue, bitter almost.

The Lord nodded slowly as if trying to piece something together in his mind. "Funny you say Mansfield... you reminded me of someone..." He trailed off, lost in thought, his eyes clouded with something Will couldn't quite read.

His stomach twisted painfully.

He fought the urge to blurt out the truth as to why he reminded him of someone. Could it be his mother? It had to be! But he bit his tongue, forcing the words back. He wasn't ready. Not yet. Not now.

"Does it matter?" Will muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Where I'm from, I mean."

The Lord blinked. "No. I suppose it doesn't."

As silence stalled, Will, despite his better judgment, blurted out, "Who do I remind you of?" His voice came out louder than he intended, so loud, it echoed slightly in the cave.

The Lord turned to him, surprise flashing across his face. He hesitated. Will's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he waited for the Lord's response.

The Lord's brow furrowed and his gaze became distant as if he were staring through Will, seeing something he couldn't. "You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago," he said softly and a smile tugged at his mouth corners. "You might be related, she was also from Mansfield."

What was surely meant to be a joke didn't get a laugh from him.

Will's chest tightened.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore that this man was the real Lord Locksley.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

His mouth went dry, the words hanging at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

At the same time, the urge to ask more questions was almost overwhelming.

"You may not be from my lands, but I must ask for your help nonetheless," the Lord said, returning the conversation back to the need of Will to seek help.

Will's chest tightened. "Of course, I would help." I'm from your blood. I'm your son.

But the Lord had no idea. To him, Will was just some nameless boy from Mansfield. The irony clawed at his insides, but he forced himself to stay silent.

The Lord's eyes softened and he let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, boy. Truly."

Will only nodded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the cold, rocky ground, and rose to his feet. His hands trembled as they searched for support against the walls.

His battered body protested with each movement, so he leaned back against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes to steady himself.

A pained grimace cut through his face. His side ached sharply.

The weight of his exhaustion and pain was almost overwhelming, but he had to focus.

The Lord was right.

He had to get help.

"What happened to you?"

Will looked up, surprised to meet the Lord's curious eyes.

"It's nothing," Will replied gruffly, trying to downplay the pain he was in. "Just some trouble I ran into. Nothing compared to what you're going through." His attempt at a reassuring smile faltered as the pain in his side flared up from the way he was standing.

Lord Locksley's gaze grew alert when he heard him moan, but, thankfully, he didn't press further.

Silence fell again, heavier than before.

Will took a deep breath and braced himself to take off.

"Let me see what's wrong with you," the Lord's voice broke the silence.

Will flinched, instinctively drawing back. "It's nothing," he insisted and shot the Lord a sharp look. "I'm fine."

"I can see you're not fine," Lord Locksley said in mild offence. "You can't help me if you're incapacitated."

The idea of being examined by him of all people was too much to bear.

"I would worry about myself if I were you," Will said, his voice flat.

Lord Locksley glared.

In silence.

That was the treatment he was met with. It reminded him so much of Robin that he wanted to snort.

The pain in his chest and sides was relentless and Will's hands shook as he tried to keep himself from cursing. His breathing was shallow, and his face was contorted with pain. It wasn't long before Lord Locksley pushed himself to his feet. Once standing, he placed a firm hand on Will's shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong for a man who looked to be in poor health himself.

"Now, lad," the Lord said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Show me where you're hurt."

With a heavy sigh, Will finally relented and gingerly pulled up the edge of his tunic to reveal the bruised skin underneath. The Lord's eyes widened as he took in the bright palette that was his skin.

"This is worse than I thought," he murmured, his fingers reaching out carefully.

"It will heal," Will replied through gritted teeth, trying to keep still as the Lord's touch probed his injuries.

His breaths came in uneven gasps and looked away to hide the surge of raw emotion. He had often imagined what meeting his father would be like when he was a child—well, this wasn't one of the scenarios he had created in his mind.

The reality was disorienting.

The Lord's fingers, though trembling slightly, were gentle on his skin. "Nasty work," he muttered. "How did you get those?"

Will winced at a probing touch but said nothing. Lord Locksley's hands applied pressure to the worst of the wounds while his gaze moved over the rest of the injuries with scrutiny. "Nothing is broken at least," he concluded.

Will grimaced, stifling groans of pain.

This man, Lord Locksley, his father, the very man whose existence had been a distant myth his whole life long, whose death he had not mourned, was now here, alive, making sure his injuries weren't serious. Will was observing him from the corner of his eye, trying to be subtle in his prying.

This moment was a cruel reminder of the life he'd been deprived of, the father he'd never known. The father who'd care.

If he told him who his mother was, surely the Lord would consider the possibility that he might be his son, the same way Robin realized their linkage by himself. Will could lead him to the truth and allow him to put the truth together for himself. If he simply told him who his mother was…

When he had first learned of Robin's identity, the revelation had ignited a firestorm of anger and hatred within him. Will had felt only contempt and fury towards the brother who took away his opportunity to have a family in the traditional way. At least at the start.

Now, faced with the reality of being around his father, Will felt nothing of it.

Where Robin had evoked a fiery rage, his father elicited a fervent curiosity and a deep, almost desperate need for connection.

But this wasn't the time. In fact, every minute he wasted staying here was putting the Lord into imprisonment.

The reality of their situation was harsh.

He had to go.

"I will look for help. Wait here."

By the time he finished talking, he was already searching for support against the wall. Aching or not, the determination in his eyes alone was enough to force his legs into taking one step after another towards the opening of the cave.

Note: Voila! :)))