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I just finished watching Labyrinth - one of the most magical and imaginative movies every made - and this came to mind. It's rubbish and very raw, but I had to get it out of my head before I could move on to do anything else. Since this is the first time I've written anything in months, I'm actually glad that I was forced to sit and write. A storyline or sequels is probably never going to happen. I'm terrible at getting ideas for stories that end up never going anywhere. I need help with that. Seriously - it drives me insane.

So, here it is. It's really not good, but I'm happy because it's out of my head. If anyone knows of any really good ff for this movie, please send the recs my way! It seems the only thing I've found is smut. :/ That just annoys the crap out of me.


I changed the world for you, turned it upside down.
I altered my appearance to make myself look older - I did it to intimidate you, to intrigue you. To satisfy that human complex that you so desperately craved in the absence of a father figure.
I became your fondest daydreams and your darkest fantasies.
I stopped time and altered it. I gave you the desires of you heart. I gave you the moon and the stars and the seas and every winged creature and every cloven hoof.

And still you rejected me.

Now I am nothing
I'm cold, I'm burning up
My eyes cry tears that are dry.
I hurry to wait.
I'm completely full of nothing.

I recount those moments that you were so close, those few blissful moments when I held you in my arms and you looked up at me with pleading wide eyes.
Those moments have now become my torment.
I held no power over you mind, body, heart...
And yet you keep mine so completely in your grasp; you hold everything that I am in your hands and yet you've forgotten.

You've forgotten me.

So I wait, in the blackest of nights and in the brightest of mornings, waiting with bated breath to hear the words that will set me free.
You said them once, long ago, but not to me. Never to me.

"I need you."

Say the words, Sarah. End both of our anguish.

I need you.



(Please forgive the novice - and the liberties she has taken.)

I feel better now.

My apologies.

My real life took over every scrap of fandom time, so I haven't had time to watch much RH or write. It's looking to finally calm down, and amazingly enough, I still have people looking at it. O.O Shocking. So, I'm hoping to have more time to write. Thank you for all the comments and critiques that I've received so far. I'm very, very grateful. <3

To All Those Reading my Fanfiction...

...have I told you that I love you? Because, really, I do! :D I wanted to let you know that I am working on the next chapter. The holidays and some mistakes that I've made in the story are slowing me down a bit. I'm also trying to take some extra time to map out what I want to have happen, which is a new process for me. (If anyone has tips on story-boarding or creating plot lines, that would be fabulous.:D ) I've spent a lot of time in other fan communities, but seriously - Robin Hood fans are the best. :D Thank you for all the supportive and constructive comments. You have no idea how much I appreciate them.

Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up before, but if not, I wish you all a Happy Christmas! (For those celebrating Christmas.)

Things I'm Learning.

I've been teaching myself to write for the past two years. I'm not even close to where I want, or need, to be, but I'm learning so much along the way. This is just a list of things that have been so profound in my learning process, and I'm posting this, mainly for myself, to look at when I'm frustrated or discouraged.

1. Writing is a process. You don't just pick up a pen (or keyboard) and immediately write a novel. You write and write and write and write some more.

2. If someone takes the time to read your work, that, in itself, is a compliment. If they take even more time to give you tips on how you can improve, that's an honor.

3. A year after you've begun, you go back to the first thing that you wrote and contemplate printing it, just so you can burn it.

4. Creating something from nothing, using only words, is a very beautiful and powerful thing.

5. Never, never, never, never post anything without reading and re-reading, and re-reading it over and over to check for mistakes. If you don't, you'll end up either: a) looking illiterate, or b) writing yourself into a corner. (Ask me how I know.) That corner is where all great ideas and half-finished stories go to die.

6. 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' Must buy this.

7. When you write, you leave your heart and soul displayed on the page for everyone to see. It's devastatingly, terrifyingly beautiful. (Adjectives are my friends.) If you feel no emotion after finishing a scene, then you're doing it wrong.

8. Dreams can only go as far as you're willing to take them. I'm still working on mine, and will be for a very long time. :)
I don't have photoshop, and graphic art is not my strong-suit, but I have enjoyed making a few things for The Hoodland Challenges. (Team Outlaw, here)

Here's my entry for the movie poster challenge. I think mine looks more like a book than a movie poster, but I still sort of like it.

Photobucket

This was one of the first Robin Hood BBC fanfics I ever read, and I still think it's my favorite. I just love a good Marian/Guy story. *grins cheekily*


And for the fanmix challenge. (I must admit, I was very proud of this one:

Photobucket Photobucket

By My Will - Chapter 2.

She wanted to hit him.

Never before had such an irrational, barbaric thought entered her mind, but in that instant, she would like nothing better than to punch the stocky, balding man standing before them. He smiled at her father smugly, his wide, toothy grin a perfect expression of good will, despite the words of complete insolence that spewed from his mouth.

“As a token of gratitude for your years of service to this land, Prince John has extended to you the rights to your lands in Knighton and the hospitality of this keep whenever you wish it. Of course.”

As if the “rights” to their lands were not already their own to do as they will; as if this “token of gratitude” that was given made up for what they had lost.

The new sheriff of Nottingham sat upon his throne, behaving as if being appointed sheriff made him king. It had been less than a fortnight since Vaisey had taken over, and already the people were beginning to show the effects of undue suffering. Many already poor farmers were being forced to give up even the most basic of needs to support the cause of the king. Every blacksmith and workman in his trade was ordered to shut down their own shops and make only swords and weapons. It was funny how the needs to support a war could change so drastically from one day to the next.

She knew that her father was hard-pressed to pay the taxes warranted for King Richard's mission; he had spent many a long day traveling from one town to the next, gathering needed supplies and money. He had never taken more than a man could supply, however. She had seen him take coins from his own purse to pay off a man's debt.

She looked to her father who stood beside her. If he held the same angry thoughts, his face did not show it. He simply held Vaisey's gaze, calmly, with no emotion displayed upon his face. Marian forced herself to do likewise. It was rather difficult. Not only had she to deal with Vaisey's repugnance, she was also forced to suffer the unwavering gaze of Sir Guy of Gisborne. He stood beside his leader and watched her and her father silently, his pale blue eyes missing nothing. She tried to pretend that he was not in the room.

“And since you are already here, you should stay for the feast that we are having this evening.”

“Feast?” She looked to the sheriff, incredulous. “You plan to feast while the people of this land are starving?” Her father gave her a look that spoke volumes, but she chose to ignore it. It had been years since the castle had held any sort of celebration. It was in poor taste, when so many of the land's men were suffering and dying in The Holy Land, and so many of its people here were going hungry. She and her father had chosen to make do with as little as possible, giving their extra food and supplies to the people. It was the only reason that some were still alive – and still it had not been enough.

“Sir Edward,” said Vaisey in clipped tones, not making eye contact or acknowledging Marian at all, “I trust that this is a suitable arrangement for you. We must all do our part in helping the King in his mission in The Holy Land. It would be a shame if any of our nobles were found to be – less than supportive of their Monarch.”

What he did not say spoke volumes.

“Yes, Lord Vaisey.” he said, bowing his head in acquiescence. “I thank you – and Prince John – for your most generous gifts. My daughter and I humbly accept your invitation for this eve.”

“Very good,” said Vaisey, looking as though he did not expect anything less from his dethroned predecessor. “Well – be gone, then. The feast will begin shortly after 7 o'clock.” He shooed them away, and Marian resisted the urge to glare at him before she turned with her father and walked toward the stone steps that would lead them to the upper level of the castle.

She had not missed the slight smile that played on Gisborne's lips when her father agreed to stay.

It was customary for the sheriff and his family to take up residency in this castle, and many families had lived within these old walls. Marian grew up in the keep, memorizing each and every pathway, step and doorway. Once she became older, her father decided that it would be better to keep her at Knighton, hidden away from all the men who came to stay here as guests. She had originally protested the decision, but now she was glad of it. If there was anything “good” about this entire situation, it was knowing that she, at least, had not lost the place that she considered to be her home. And nothing about its current residents that made her wish to stay.

Once they had reached their rooms, her father closed her door firmly and turned toward her, a look of disappointment and anger upon his features.

“Marian, I am as unhappy about these arrangements as you are – but you must keep your silence. Speaking out against Vaisey will only bring trouble upon our heads. From now on, I insist that you hold your tongue.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her. “Especially in the presence of Vaisey and Gisborne. And please, for my sanity and peace of mind, do not wander this keep on your own. Promise me this.”

Though quietly seething at being told to remain docile and quiet, she agreed to her father's wishes. To herself, she only promised to try not to speak - trying and doing were two very seperate things; she knew her own mind too well to give in completely. Edward seemed content with her mumbled, "Yes, Father," and opened her door to go to his own room.

He stopped short of the doorway, and she heard him say, “Sir Guy. I did not expect to see you here. Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“I hope I have not come at an inopportune time.” replied Guy, his deep voice resounding throughout the room. “I have been asked to see that you are both taken care of. Also, Lord Vaisey wishes to speak with you on matters of the old appointment of the guards, Sir Edward.”

“Now?” Guy merely nodded. Her father looked to her and then to Guy and silently left the room, leaving the door wide open. She wished he would simply tell Gisborne that he was not welcome to visit his daughter, that she was already promised to someone, anything but simply leave her alone with him.

Guy walked around the open door and she immediately felt self-conscious.

“Is everything to your liking? Do you need anything? A fire, perhaps?”

“No, I thank you, I am fine.” she answered, trying very hard to keep the bitterness that she felt from her tone.

“I...also came to ask if I might escort you this evening. To the banquet.”

Marian was dumbfounded, unable to speak for several moments. After everything that he had put herself and her father through, how could he possible think that she would accept such an offer?

“I...I thank you for the request, Sir Guy, but...” She struggled to come up with a suitable excuse. Oh yes, Robin. “I am afraid that I am promised to someone.” She wasn't sure why she chose to not say his name. “It would be improper if I were to accept your proposal.” It was a valid point, logic that no man could dispute. Surely now, he would agree that his suggestion would be in bad taste and leave her alone.

How very wrong she was. Guy seemed to be ignorant of what was considered proper behavior - or perhaps he knew that it was not proper, but did not care. Both scenarios made her extremely nervous.

“I assume that this man, to whom you are engaged, is in The Holy Land?” She nodded and felt the heat rise quickly in her face, knowing exactly the meaning behind his words: If Robin were here, she would have married several years ago. Being nineteen, she was now considered past marrying age. Most of her peers had several children already.

“And I also assume that this man may not return from the war. It seems that it would be in your interest to find a respectable suitor now, rather than wait until it is too late.”

Marian sucked in a breath. Several moments passed, and her father's plea for her silence rang loudly inside her head.

“All the same,“ she replied much more calmly than she felt; within her, there was a mighty storm brewing. “I do not wish to be unseemly. When my intended returns, he will not be pleased to see that I have been accepting escorts from other men. Thank you for your offer. If you'll excuse me, I wish to rest before dinner, this evening.”

“My offer stands, should you change your mind, My Lady. I have been given the rights to the shire of Locksley while its owner is away, and a considerable sum for my new position as Vaisy's Man-at-Arms. A lady of your position, and age, would be very lucky to receive a better offer.” He crossed his arms, a light smirk on his face, looking very much like the stuffed peacocks that she had seen in a neighboring Lord's Great Hall.

She knew she must choose her words very carefully. Should she deny him and do so insultingly, she may very well end up with her head on the chopping block. She was not sure how Guy of Gisborne would fair with rejection, she guessed not well, and she had seen many women die for lesser offenses. In these times, it was critical to be careful of what one said. The title of “Witch” could very easily be placed on any woman's head.

“Very well, then. I accept your offer, but ask that it be done very discreetly, as I do not wish to upset my father. He has his heart set on my marriage to Robin of Locksley.” She added the title purposefully, satisfied when Guy's smirk turned to a frown at the mention of the lands that he temporarily held.

“Very well. You will sit at my right this evening.” He nodded his goodbye, his eyes never leaving her face, and closed door, softly, at his departure.

No longer held under his scrutiny, Marian let out a long breath and collapsed into the chair beside her, holding her face in her hands. How on earth was she supposed to dissuade the man without completely destroying their tenuous standing with him, and Vaisey?

It seemed an impossible task; she would have to be very careful not to insult Gisborne, but at the same time, not give him too much hope as to her affections. A fine line had been drawn in the sand, and as much as she hated it, she knew she had no choice but to dance very close to the edge and play her part. For her father's sake.

She immediately decided that she must deal with this alone; putting it to her father would only add more burden upon his already heavy shoulders.

“Lord, give me strength,” she whispered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She tried to look as hideous as possible for the evening meal. Her hair was put up on top of her head in a severe bun, held in place by her mother's favorite hair pins. She had always thought they were unnecessary and gaudy, but now they seemed perfect: two large stick pins, adorned with red rubies. A castle servant helped her dress in a frumpy gray dress with long, draping sleeves. Being that it was made two sizes too large made it an even better choice: it draped on her like a sack, showing no curves, whatsoever. She looked just like the old maid that Sir Gisborne had insinuated she was becoming.

Though she was still angry at Guy's words, she had to admit, he spoke truth: What man would want her the next year, or the next? She would soon be considered too old. Marriage was the one thing that Marian dreaded the most - more than having children, even. Not because she was afraid of commitment to a man; she was afraid of losing herself. Married women had little choice in anything, even in some cases, to what clothes they wore.

“Are you sure you won't wear the red dress, My Lady? it would look lovely with your dark hair.”

“No, thank you, Getrude.” She smiled gratefully at the older woman, and grabbed her hand just as she was about to leave. “I wish we could take you back to Knighton with us.” Getrude had been a trusted servant with her family for many years. Many of the servants at Knighton had to be let go, as her father could no longer afford to keep them. Some, like Gertrude, found positions here at the castle. She did not like to think of what would happen to the others.

“As do I, Miss, but the good Lord gives us what He give us, and we must be thankful for it.”

Marian's smile faded slightly, and she patted Gertrude's hand and then let it go. “I suppose you're right.”

But she did not feel thankful.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The dinner feast was simply a ruse. Shortly after the many nobles had had their fill of roast pheasant, pork, figs and an array of other dishes, Vaisey stood to speak. Marian did not notice him standing, at first. She was too busy avoiding the constant gaze of the man sitting beside her. He never tried to make conversation, thankfully, but his eyes rarely left her face.

At the moment, he was quietly laughing; she had been caught feeding scraps to the poor dogs who were lying beneath the table, their ribs jutting out from their sides. Marian could never stand to see anything suffer unnecessarily. She had half a mind to wrap up the large pheasant that sat on the table in front of her, as well. Many hungry children had lined up outside, hoping for a bit of charity from their new sheriff. Her father had also noticed them, and had been discreetly hiding food in his napkin for most of the meal. She looked over to him, and they shared a small, conspiratory smile.

“Lords and Ladies,” began Vaisey in a loud voice, “Thank you very much for attending at such short notice this evening. Your presence is most appreciated – la-di-da-di-da, etcetera, etcetera.” He smacked his hand loudly on the table before him. “Now, let's get down to business. Prince John has put me into this position as sheriff, because he is not pleased, of late, with the way that the taxes have been collected.”

Marian looked over to her father. It appeared that all the blood had left his face, save for two bright spots upon his cheeks. She grabbed his hand.

Vaisey continued, “And in doing so, has informed me that the taxes must be raised. Whatever amount you and your people are giving to King Richard's great mission in The Holy Land, it is now doubled.”

“What?” one noble asked incredulously, standing quickly to his feet, “How can you ask this of us? We are already struggling to pay the taxes we have now!”

“In answer to your question, Joshua,” said Vaisey smugly, not caring that he was insulting the nobleman by using his first name, “You, and everyone here tonight, will have the opportunity to show your support of the good King by sharing the gold and coin that you have upon your persons.”

“Are you mad?” asked an elderly man, who was wearing a great many jewels. “I will not suffer this insolence! Do you mean to rob us while we sit here? You have no right-”

“Oh, I have every right.” He looked around the room, giving them all a toothy grin, looking very much like a laughing skeleton. “And right now, I have several dozen knights lined up outside this door. Should any of you leave without giving your tithes, I will see that you are all arrested for treason against the king.”

“On what grounds?”

“Come now, Sir Frederick! You have all been withholding coin, Prince John is not deceived. He is very unhappy that you have not been showing your love for him or his brother. Those that are for the monarch would surely give everything they have, would they not? This is for the good of England. Isn't that what we're all working for?”

He looked in her direction, and Marian held her breath, afraid for a moment that he could hear the awful things that she shouted at him in her head. But he turned his attention, instead, to Sir Guy.

“My man, Gisborne will pass around the basket for you all to place your offerings. I suggest you give generously. If I find any piece of gold or jewels hidden away,” He nodded toward a woman who was attempting to hid her wedding ring inside her bodice, “I will make sure you stay in the worst rat-infested cell that I can find - and that will be before I send your names to the Prince.”

They all did as instructed, though not without mumbling complaints and curses. Several women sat in tears beside their angry husbands. Guy walked down the row of noblemen and women, one hand on the hilt of his sword, silently taking their gems and purses, and jewelry, some that had probably been passed down for generations.

He finally stopped in front of her father, who, this time, did nothing to hide his anger. She watched as he removed his ring, something she had never seen him do, a look of rage glittering in his eyes. He thew it into the basket that was held out before him with force. Marian blanched as Guy stood before her, patiently waiting as she removed her gold necklace and placed it in among the other jewels.

“And – your hair baubles too, Lady Marian,” leered Vasiey. She glanced at the tower of jewels and gold, and spotted her father's wedding ring. “Come, come. We don't have all night.”

From where Guy stood, the basket that he held was completely hidden from Vaisey's watchful eye, and so, in a last-minute decision, she decided to use Guy's attraction toward her to her advantage.

With her mind set, she slowly removed her mother's hair clips. Her long hair fell about her shoulders and down her back in waves. With butterflies and knots in the pit of her stomach, she looked up to meet Guy's stare. Carefully, she placed the large hair pins into the basket, and without his notice, hid her father's ring in her palm at the same time.

When she withdrew her hand, it was shaking. She quickly placed it in her lap, but did not look away. Guy stood there longer than necessary, looking as though he were trying to search through her mind and pick apart every secret held within.

“Gisborne!” Vaisey yelled, though it did little to move the man in front of her. He simply smiled at her and moved down the row, never taking his eyes from her face, until he had reached the end of the table and was forced to turn away to hand the treasures to the sheriff.

When he finally looked away, she felt as though she had lost a small piece of her soul.



End notes: I do realize that Guy is being particularly pretentious and I hope you don't hate me for it. Guy doesn't wait around for things to happen, though; he makes thing happen. And he really doesn't have the gift of tactfulness. Not really. Since I'm only writing it in Marian's point of view, I thought I'd add that in this instance, he just knows that he wants her and to heck with the consequences. Plus, hearing about her "betrothed" really ruffled his feathers. So, please tell me what you think. :)

You Can Never Go Back (A Robin Hood fanfic)

"Nothing is at is seems."  These were the last words that Vaisey uttered to Guy, as he lay "dying" in the battlements in Season 3. 

Now, we know what he meant with those words, but what if there was more to it than his plan to destroy Guy and Robin Hood, and put the witch-known-as-Isabelle into position as Sheriff?  

In my version, Marian didn't die - but neither Guy, nor Robin, know it.  The only people who are aware that she is alive, are thousands of miles away - and everyone is fresh out of carrier pigeons.  

Since I'm still so green, I just wanted to apologize ahead of time for my atrocious grammar, plot, character development, outlines, and anything else that may be offensive to the seasoned writer (and reader).  I hope someone out there enjoys my little dabble in make-believe, but if not, that's quite alright.  I'm enjoying myself.

*grins* 

Without further ado - Lady Marian:

The dry desert air whisked sand and grit against her boots and full skirt, as she stood impatiently outside the door of the foreign tavern.  Weary of standing in the blinding heat, she'd chosen to slump against the roughened stone of the outer wall, not caring how unladylike she must seem. 

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, ignoring the curious glances of the mom who passed by, but still she could not block out the blinding sun.  She imagined that she was leaning against wood, instead of sandstone - and the air that was blowing against her skirts was cool and wet, instead of hot and dry.  She was no longer able to remember exactly what the cool felt like, however - it had been too long...

"Marian!" the screeching voice calling her name caused her to roll her eyes and sigh.  She picked up her skirts and sauntered inside, presuming the heir of a woman who still bore a title, a place of importance in the world.  In reality, she was just a slave, but this time, not to her country or crown; she was a slave to the man who had paid a high price for her: Prince John. 

Her first meeting with the insipid, flowery monarch was shortly after her..."Injury."  It took her all of one minute to assess the nobleman as the fop that he was, and decide that she detested him. 

She had healed from Guy's attack faster than anyone had expected; so quickly, in fact, that a decision of, "what to do with her," now had had to be made.  The men, who proved themselves to be imbeciles and blockheads, came to the conclusion that she was "too pretty" to be held hostage in a camp full of lonely men - but too strong-willed to be sold to any of the neighboring nobles to be sold as a wife.  Carter, her favorite of the rabble, had decided that her skills at fighting and self-defense should be put to good use, which, to Marian, sounded like a dream...until it became her worst nightmare.

Her "usefulness" in being female was soon found to becoming nothing short of a servant for spoiled and pampered Prince John, who anyone with half a wit would know, was only here to pretend to support his brother, Richard.  He spent his hours, when not before his looking glass, whining about the weather conditions, and the ill-effects it held toward his normally perfect coif.  Marian had never seen a man who acted so much like a woman; she had never a woman who acted like Prince John.

Her "duties" to the Prince were to see that he and his entourage were comfortable, which usually meant fetching things:

"Marian, bring me my cloak."

"Marian, my slippers - now."

"Marian, I need more sugar for me tea."

"Marian, have you seen that servant boy?  I believe he was bringing me some fruit from the market, and he's been gone too long.  Go and fetch him."

When he wasn't barking orders, it was the non-stop need for declarations of love.

"Marian, do you love me?  I am your prince, and I do so much for you.  I take good care of you, don't I, Marian, so you must love me."

To which she gave her usual reply: 

"Of course, my lord."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to reply in the same even-toned, sweet manner.  Each and every day, he showed his self-centered and cruel nature a little more.  Her patience was wearing thin, and Carter had still not arrived with news of home, or the ship that was meant to take them to England.  She was beginning to think he had abandoned her completely.  She plotted ways of getting out of this disaster that had become her life, but she could think of nothing that wouldn't eventually place her in a more perilous predicament.  Her heart, however longed for England - and the two men who were waiting there for her. 

"Marian!  Where are you?  I need you!"  a high-pitched and nasally whine reached out amongst her daydreams and snatched it away.  Oh well, she thought.  At least he does sleep sometime.  She smiled to herself.  It was almost as if he were a child, and she were his caregiver.  Never, had she seen a man so helpless.  How was it that one son was brought up to be confident and strong, yet the other weak and annoying?  What plot had his nursemaids played against the too in their upbringing to ensure that the elder son was, in all ways, the better to wear the crown?

She slipped into the darkened room, quietly bracing herself for the newest set of orders, when she spotted the disturbingly famliliar round face sitting beside the prince.  Both men took great delight in her unguarded reaction.

"Surprise!" the older, balding man said, gleefully.  Oh, he was enjoying himself, immensely. "Are you not happy to see me, Marian?"  He jabbed the prince in his side, which caused him to whine and glare at the sheriff, who paid no notice, so enthralled was he in his own joke. 

Marian struggled to gain her composure, drawing upon years of experience in playing the meek and timid - though she knew the sheriff knew better. 

"My lord, Sheriff.  What are you doing here?"

"Ah, always the polite one, aren't we, Marian?  Tell me, are you always this polite to people after you've tried to stick a sword in their backs?"  He grinned so large, his one gold tooth glinted in the light from the flickering candle from the table in which he sat.  She glanced at it for a moment, pondering the angle in which she would have to hit it to send it flying directly into his smiling face.

"Ah-ah-ah, I don't think so, not this time. No."  He shook his head, still wearing that maniacal grin.  "You see, this time...I am prepared."  he circled around her, so close that she could smell his foul breath and feel his cold, clammy hands on her shoulders. The unmistakable steel edge of a knife pressed tightly against the back of her neck. 

"And I will not be as kind as Lord Gisborne when I plunge it through.  This time..." he pressed it a bit harder, breaking skin, "...I will make sure to stay around and finish the job.  Although, when I'm finished with you, you may wish that he had murdered you."

She looked to Prince John for mercy, but he quickly pretended to be interested in the non-existent dirt underneath his well-manicured finger nails.

"And what of the king?  Surely, he will notice my absence."  She was grasping at straws; she knew the king was far too busy to notice anything other than his mission - especially not a mere girl, such as herself.  But Carter would notice - wouldn't he? 

Both men burst into laughter, which sounded much like the cackling of two old women. 

"Oh, you are very funny, Lady Marian. Very funny, indeed."  He pressed the knife even harder into her neck, and grinned like a madman at her sudden gasp.  "Not quite so brave when the tables are turned, are you, Marian - or should I say, "Nightwatchman"?  Hm?  You didn't think that I was completely ignorant of Guy and his bird-brained plans to keep you safe, did you?  Ironic that he ended up being the one who did you in, isn't it?" 

He laughed breathlessly against her neck, causing her stomach to churn.  She held her breath and moved her head as far as the knife in the back of her allowed.  His words cut her more deeply than she wanted to admit.  The familiar pain constricted within her chest, but she forced her thoughts elsewhere:  the strategic elbow she would put in his gut, the paces it would take her to run to the tavern door... but where would she run?  She had no one here, save her friend, Carter, who may not even still be in The Holy Land - or on this earth. 

She had no one.

That thought alone was all it took for her to claim defeat.  Her shoulders slumped, and she gave in to the despair of her situation, which weighed down on her far heavier than the desert heat. 

"Well, the climate change has been good for you, I see, Marian."  He began to push her closer to the tavern door, Prince John following closely behind.  None of the occupants in the room lifted a hand to help; this was nothing of interest to them.  It served to further remind her of how alone she truly was.  If this had been England - no, with the exception of a handful of scraggly outlaws and one Lord, no one in England would have had the power to save her either.  The thought of those she had once considered her friends only made the pressure in her chest increase. 

As they reached the door, Vaisey leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "Don't think this act will save you, Lady Marian." the sound of her name laced with heavy sarcasm, "I am not a lovesick pup who will come crawling at your feet, begging for scraps." 

The heavy weight of iron hit the top of her head, causing her to see a blinding white light.  She heard the faint sounds of Vaisey mumbling in the background, as she felt herself sleeping into unconsciousness.



 

'By My Will', A Robin Hood (BBC) fanfic

This has now been sufficiently edited - I think.  This may be a one-shot, and it may turn into a chapter fanfic.  I'm not certain, yet.  I will try to keep all the characters in canon, as best I can; I am fairly new at this, after all.  But if I do continue, this will be a Marian/Guy fanfic.  Yes, I know Robin loved Marian very much - but he also loved lots of other women, as well.  The devotion that Guy demonstrated throughout the series was touching, and I'm sure I'm not the only woman who secretly wished that they had shared more than just a fleeting kiss.  So, here it is, my very first foray into fanfiction: 



The skies were cloudy and dark and matched her mood perfectly.  Marian stood at her window, staring out into the cloudy sky and forest beyond her home, quietly seething.  Would that she lived in a place where men were not so stupid, greedy - and more interested in gaining women as property and child-bearers than as friends or partners. 

She had just returned from another loveless wedding, where the bride cried more tears of sorrow than joy, while the groom, completely oblivious, beamed and jested with the other men who congratulated him on his conquest, and made lewd jokes about his wedding night.  She'd seen it many times, and was a product of such a union, and still it was unsettling.  She would never allow anyone to force her into such a marriage.  She didn't care if they stoned her to death, it would be preferable even, than to spend a life with a man who she did not love. 

It was her father who had decided to betroth her to Robin of Locksley, when she was but an infant.  Robin, the self-proclaimed hero of Locksley.  The people had filled his head with so much praise and adoration since he was a young boy, that he had become pompous and vain.  She did not hate him; it was true that he was a good man, albeit too high on his own horse to really notice his own faults - of which there were many. The least of which, being his weakness for young ladies, who flocked to his bedchamber every night.  She knew better than to think that the man would be devoted to her.

Marian tried to not think on these things, the knowledge that her would-be husband was so interested in loving so many other women besides herself made her want to equally weep at her own fate, and murder her fiance with her bare hands. 

She supposed she was vain in her own way, though, and selfish. She wasn't terribly ugly, after all.  She was certainly prettier than the last wench she'd caught Robin sneaking out of the woods with, at any case. She could only imagine what loss he must be feeling, now, that he was in the Holy Land, with no willing women to woo.  Knowing Robin, he had probably found a beautiful infidel to keep him warm in the cold desert night.  Knowing Robin...

A knock at the door interrupted her increasingly murderous thoughts.  She quickly rushed to the side of the window, careful not to be seen in only her night clothes, and saw a dark head standing impatiently outside the front door.  The man waited not three more seconds from the first knock, to pound loudly again.  He looked up into the windows, possibly looking for an indication that they were home, when she caught his gaze.  Pale, ice blue eyes looked back at hers for a startlingly brief moment, before she quickly looked away and retreated further into the shadows of her room. 

The knock sounded again much louder, accompanied this time by a deep voice, "Open up, Sheriff.  I have an urgent message from Prince John!" 

Prince John?  Why would he have a message for her father?  She dressed quickly, as she heard the large, heavy door opening, and murmurs from below.  Her father's small, tired voice reached her, and she immediately became anxious.  She finished throwing on her dress, ignoring the cumbersome fastenings, and deciding she was decent enough for the occasion of being so rudely interrupted so late in the night, and rushed down the stairs. 

Her father was speaking a man who had several armored knights with him, his voice quickly becoming panicked, when she burst into the room.  All eyes were suddenly on her, but she only noticed her father's flushed face, and shocked expression.

"Marian!", he shouted, his gaze sweeping from her undone hair to her barely covered torso, to her bare feet, "What are you wearing?  Go upstairs at once!"

She could feel her face growing hot under his critical glare, and her embarrassment at being chastised in front of strangers made her more than a little angry.

"Well, what does one expect, when one comes to the door at such a ridiculous hour!" 

She heard the stranger laugh softly, and she finally got a good look at him.  The Devil, himself was standing just inside her door, his black hair shining in the lanterns that glowed on the wall beside his head.  His eyes were laughing, cold and blue, much like the ice she suspected made up his heart.  His mouth was turned up in a slight grin, and her first reaction was to immediately hate him.  She realized she was staring, with her mouth slightly agape by her father's third use of her name.

"Marian!  Go back to your room!  Now!"

Though she knew it was childish, she did turn to go, but with deliberate slowness.  Her father rarely used such a tone with her, and she wondered if the servants were right in saying that he should have disciplined her more as a child.  She was certainly every bit the head-strong, opinionated woman that they all knew her to be.  She saw it as her only freedom.  She was continually forced into this prison of a home, into the Lady that she had been trained to be, yet she longed for true freedom. 

Freedom, that as soon as Robin returned, would be taken completely from her.  Her father may excuse her shocking behavior; Robin never would.  He had told her as much, several times, in fact.  To spite him, she attempted to be even more contrary in his presence.  She supposed it was becoming more habit now, than what she truly wanted.  If someone told her to stay, she would immediately go.  If she was told to sit still and be quiet, she immediately spoke up.  Despite the small satisfaction her disobedience gave her, she sometimes feared she would one day go too far - and it would be her undoing. 

She opened the door at the top of the stairs just as slowly as she had ascended them, still feeling those ice-blue eyes of the stranger upon her. He wasn't the first man to have ever noticed her, yet she was unnerved by it.  She closed her door with much more haste than she had opened it, and retreated inside, her satisfaction at making her slow retreat somewhat dimmed by the strangers piercing gaze.  She decided that next time, it would be wise to not give him cause to notice her.  She held her door open only slightly, so that she could hear what was being said, and noticed that it took her father a few moments to regain the stranger's attention away from her door.

"What is the nature of this summons - and at so late an hour?"

"My name is Guy, Guy of Gisborne.  Perhaps you remember me?" 

Marian gasped.  Guy?  Guy was here?  That was Guy?  He had changed so much from the lanky boy she remembered from her youth that she would never have recognized him.  The black hair, the pale blue eyes, the dimples in his face remained the same, yet now, as she looked upon him, she saw the hardness in his features that had replaced the soft; the cruelty in eyes that had once been kind. 

"Guy?"  Her father was clearly as startled as she had been at this unexpected visit.  "What are you doing here?  I thought you had been forced from this place long ago - "

"Well, now I am back, and I am the new, and rightful Lord of Locksley manor."

Her father stammered, but Lord Guy interrupted him before he could speak a coherent word.

"Prince John has sent me here to inform you that you have been out-bid in your job of sheriff.  Your replacement will be here on the morrow to relieve you on your duties."

She watched as her father simply nodded his acquiescence, said a few mumbling replies, and handed over his keys.  The guards that were with Lord Gisborne turned, not even attempting to hide their amusement at how uncomplicated their job had been.  Marian wanted to disappear into the floorboards, her humiliation apparent in the tears that slid down her cheeks, and the heat in her face.  Guy took one last glance at her door, his expression unreadable, and left. 

She heard the front door close soundly, the last nail being closed in the coffin that was their dignity, as Marian saw it - and most certainly their livelihood.  She watched through tear-stained eyes as her father slumped into the nearest chair and began to openly weep.  She closed the door softly and leaned her forehead against the rough wood.  How could he have just stood by and let this happen?  She found herself once again, questioning the actions of men.  Her father may be resigned to his fate, but Marian decided then and there that she would never let anyone control hers ever again. 

This would be the last time she would allow herself to feel shame and defeat at the hands of a man.