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Title: Neither Forgiven nor Forgotten (part 1 of...?)
Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC)
Pairing: Guy/Marian
Spoilers: Takes place between end of season one and beginning of season two
A/N: Written for a NanoWrimo warmup challenge. Write a story in any fandom, inspired the following song lyrics. This story started out as a vignette, and then threatened to become something larger. However it's officially November 1st, so I'm posting what I've got. If you like it, poke me for more in December!
The lyrics chosen for me were:
"And you forgive me again
You're my one true friend
And I never meant to hurt you"
-Forgive Me - Evanescence
"Let her go."
Sir Guy of Gisborne sank to his knees on the floor. rocking back slightly to rest on the heels of his boots. He waved away the fawning priest and brought the fingers of his left hand up to touch his cheek. He probed the raw, stinging spot where it was damp. Holding his middle finger out now, in front of his nose, he stared transfixed at the bright red drop of blood on the pad of the finger. Blood that had been draw by the impact of the ring he had given Marian, gripped in her fist.
The redness spread with a searing heat to fill his vision. For a moment he saw her before him. Saw his hands wrapped around her slender neck, saw the light fade from her eyes as his fingers squeezed and squeezed.
Shaking his head to dispel the image, he closed his eyes. More heat, this time in the form of water pricked at the insides of his lids. He could no more hurt Marian than he could himself.
How had this happened? How had everything become so spoiled? He had never meant to hurt Marian, to lie to her. She was supposed to be the one pure thing in his life. And yet he had all but dragged her to altar under duress, deceiving her into agreeing to the ceremony and then threatening her father in a last desperate attempt to make her stay.
"It was not supposed to be like this," he murmured.
"Pardon?"
Gisborne opened his eyes to see Thornton bending over him solicitously. He studied the old man's face for a moment, searching for a hint of genuine sympathy. He saw it, in the weathered wrinkles around the soft brown eyes. "It was not supposed to be like this," he repeated.
"No," Thornton nodded gravely, holding out a hand to help him up.
Staring at the hand, Guy felt a wave of shame wash over him as he realized how of of his soul he had bared to this man, a mere serf.
"I don't need your help," he said harshly, shoving aside the man's hand, and heaving himself to his feet.
Gisborne left the church without a backward glance. Outside he paused for a moment, looking toward the manor house. He could still hear the preparations which had been going on since the wee hours of the morning. Inside the feast would be laid in the great hall, upstairs, the marriage bed.
He closed his eyes again, drawing a deep breath, his fingers curling into clenched fists. He opened his eyes to a sudden stillness. Scattered villagers, all at safe distances, were staring at him. The news had spread. He took a menacing step just far enough to ward the closest ones to make them jump back. A bouquet of flowers dangling from a fence post caught his eye and he seized them, dashing them to the ground with a satisfying flurry of petals.
Turning on his heel toward the stable, he whistled for his horse. His brown stallion Richard, more ornery than his master, if such a thing was possible, snickered at him in return. He swung himself up onto the saddle, dug in his heels, and gave the horse his head.
Leaning forward, he buried his fingers in the mane of the horse and tightened his knees as their speed increased. He relaxed into the smooth rhythm of the animal's pounding hooves, losing himself in the sensations of the ride and the wind as it dried the dampness on his cheeks.
Trees, rocks, and fields flew by, and time along with it. Guy was not sure how long it was before the horse finally slowed. It seemed Richard had been as eager as his rider to escape the village. Guy permitted himself a slight smile as he stroked the horse's neck and praised him softly before dismounting to stretch his cramped muscles. They were beside a small stream, and as the horse plunged his face in to drink Guy crouched down and removed his gloves. Cupping his hands he scooped up some water and splashed his face.
Straightening, he shook droplets from his fingers and smoothed back his hair. He was not certain exactly where they were, but judging by the thickness of the trees, somewhere in the heart of Sherwood. He wondered briefly if he would be set upon by outlaws at any moment, and part of him relished the thought of a fight.
As if listening to his thoughts, there was a distinct twang behind him. He jumped aside just in time as an arrow whooshed past him to land in the water. With a sharp whinny, Richard bolted away from the stream. Gisborne reached for his sword, his hand coming into empty contact with his leather belt. He cursed under his breath as he remembered the priest had forbidden weapons in the church. His dagger came readily to his hand, but fat lot of good that would do him against arrows. he turned, arms spread to face his attackers.
Two men dressed in the brown garb of the forest outlaws stood with arrows in their bows, strings stretched the the maximum. One of the men gasped, and lowered his bow. Gisborne recognized him almost immediately, his lips curling into a sneer as the other man's eyes widened in shock.
"Lord Much," he said, doing his best to inject as much sarcasm as possible into his voice. He'd seen the man only, had it been hours? before when he'd burst into the church to interrupt Guy's wedding. The dagger was hot in his hand.
"Much, what are you doing?" the other outlaw hissed.
"It's Gisborne, Will," Much hissed back.
"I can see that." Scarlet rolled his eyes. "We've got him right where we want him."
"What are we going to do with him?"
"Take him to Robin."
"Put down your bows," Gisborne called, "and come fight like men." He waved his hands at them, dagger concealed at his wrist. "Beat me, then take me to Hood if you dare."
"Oh we dare," Scarlet yelled back. "And we're not putting down our bows."
"Lord Much," Gisborne appealed to the other man, who flinched at his name. "Have you not taken enough from me today? What more do I have to lose? You are welcome to my horse," he gestured in the direction that the stallion had fled. "If you can catch him." Across the distance he saw a flicker of, was that pity? in Much's eyes. A red cloud of rage colored his vision, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to tear the scarf from the man's head and beat his face into a pulp.
A hapless scream working its way up into his throat, he charged the outlaws.
"What, is he mad?" Scarlet yelped. Instead of shooting, the two men turned and ran. Gisborne gave chase.
He almost had them at the start, but the men were fast and knew the woods, and he was more accustomed to riding. Soon he was alone again in the forest. Deprived of satisfaction for the second time that day, he sank down on a tree trunk, head in his hands. His wedding finery was soiled with dirt and sweat, and torn by stray branches. The trees seemed to close in on him, their long shadows as mocking as Hood's men. Right now he should be feasting at Locksley with Marian at his side, sheltering her from the lewd jokes of guards long in their cups, and preparing to take her up to his bed.
TBC?
Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC)
Pairing: Guy/Marian
Spoilers: Takes place between end of season one and beginning of season two
A/N: Written for a NanoWrimo warmup challenge. Write a story in any fandom, inspired the following song lyrics. This story started out as a vignette, and then threatened to become something larger. However it's officially November 1st, so I'm posting what I've got. If you like it, poke me for more in December!
The lyrics chosen for me were:
"And you forgive me again
You're my one true friend
And I never meant to hurt you"
-Forgive Me - Evanescence
"Let her go."
Sir Guy of Gisborne sank to his knees on the floor. rocking back slightly to rest on the heels of his boots. He waved away the fawning priest and brought the fingers of his left hand up to touch his cheek. He probed the raw, stinging spot where it was damp. Holding his middle finger out now, in front of his nose, he stared transfixed at the bright red drop of blood on the pad of the finger. Blood that had been draw by the impact of the ring he had given Marian, gripped in her fist.
The redness spread with a searing heat to fill his vision. For a moment he saw her before him. Saw his hands wrapped around her slender neck, saw the light fade from her eyes as his fingers squeezed and squeezed.
Shaking his head to dispel the image, he closed his eyes. More heat, this time in the form of water pricked at the insides of his lids. He could no more hurt Marian than he could himself.
How had this happened? How had everything become so spoiled? He had never meant to hurt Marian, to lie to her. She was supposed to be the one pure thing in his life. And yet he had all but dragged her to altar under duress, deceiving her into agreeing to the ceremony and then threatening her father in a last desperate attempt to make her stay.
"It was not supposed to be like this," he murmured.
"Pardon?"
Gisborne opened his eyes to see Thornton bending over him solicitously. He studied the old man's face for a moment, searching for a hint of genuine sympathy. He saw it, in the weathered wrinkles around the soft brown eyes. "It was not supposed to be like this," he repeated.
"No," Thornton nodded gravely, holding out a hand to help him up.
Staring at the hand, Guy felt a wave of shame wash over him as he realized how of of his soul he had bared to this man, a mere serf.
"I don't need your help," he said harshly, shoving aside the man's hand, and heaving himself to his feet.
Gisborne left the church without a backward glance. Outside he paused for a moment, looking toward the manor house. He could still hear the preparations which had been going on since the wee hours of the morning. Inside the feast would be laid in the great hall, upstairs, the marriage bed.
He closed his eyes again, drawing a deep breath, his fingers curling into clenched fists. He opened his eyes to a sudden stillness. Scattered villagers, all at safe distances, were staring at him. The news had spread. He took a menacing step just far enough to ward the closest ones to make them jump back. A bouquet of flowers dangling from a fence post caught his eye and he seized them, dashing them to the ground with a satisfying flurry of petals.
Turning on his heel toward the stable, he whistled for his horse. His brown stallion Richard, more ornery than his master, if such a thing was possible, snickered at him in return. He swung himself up onto the saddle, dug in his heels, and gave the horse his head.
Leaning forward, he buried his fingers in the mane of the horse and tightened his knees as their speed increased. He relaxed into the smooth rhythm of the animal's pounding hooves, losing himself in the sensations of the ride and the wind as it dried the dampness on his cheeks.
Trees, rocks, and fields flew by, and time along with it. Guy was not sure how long it was before the horse finally slowed. It seemed Richard had been as eager as his rider to escape the village. Guy permitted himself a slight smile as he stroked the horse's neck and praised him softly before dismounting to stretch his cramped muscles. They were beside a small stream, and as the horse plunged his face in to drink Guy crouched down and removed his gloves. Cupping his hands he scooped up some water and splashed his face.
Straightening, he shook droplets from his fingers and smoothed back his hair. He was not certain exactly where they were, but judging by the thickness of the trees, somewhere in the heart of Sherwood. He wondered briefly if he would be set upon by outlaws at any moment, and part of him relished the thought of a fight.
As if listening to his thoughts, there was a distinct twang behind him. He jumped aside just in time as an arrow whooshed past him to land in the water. With a sharp whinny, Richard bolted away from the stream. Gisborne reached for his sword, his hand coming into empty contact with his leather belt. He cursed under his breath as he remembered the priest had forbidden weapons in the church. His dagger came readily to his hand, but fat lot of good that would do him against arrows. he turned, arms spread to face his attackers.
Two men dressed in the brown garb of the forest outlaws stood with arrows in their bows, strings stretched the the maximum. One of the men gasped, and lowered his bow. Gisborne recognized him almost immediately, his lips curling into a sneer as the other man's eyes widened in shock.
"Lord Much," he said, doing his best to inject as much sarcasm as possible into his voice. He'd seen the man only, had it been hours? before when he'd burst into the church to interrupt Guy's wedding. The dagger was hot in his hand.
"Much, what are you doing?" the other outlaw hissed.
"It's Gisborne, Will," Much hissed back.
"I can see that." Scarlet rolled his eyes. "We've got him right where we want him."
"What are we going to do with him?"
"Take him to Robin."
"Put down your bows," Gisborne called, "and come fight like men." He waved his hands at them, dagger concealed at his wrist. "Beat me, then take me to Hood if you dare."
"Oh we dare," Scarlet yelled back. "And we're not putting down our bows."
"Lord Much," Gisborne appealed to the other man, who flinched at his name. "Have you not taken enough from me today? What more do I have to lose? You are welcome to my horse," he gestured in the direction that the stallion had fled. "If you can catch him." Across the distance he saw a flicker of, was that pity? in Much's eyes. A red cloud of rage colored his vision, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to tear the scarf from the man's head and beat his face into a pulp.
A hapless scream working its way up into his throat, he charged the outlaws.
"What, is he mad?" Scarlet yelped. Instead of shooting, the two men turned and ran. Gisborne gave chase.
He almost had them at the start, but the men were fast and knew the woods, and he was more accustomed to riding. Soon he was alone again in the forest. Deprived of satisfaction for the second time that day, he sank down on a tree trunk, head in his hands. His wedding finery was soiled with dirt and sweat, and torn by stray branches. The trees seemed to close in on him, their long shadows as mocking as Hood's men. Right now he should be feasting at Locksley with Marian at his side, sheltering her from the lewd jokes of guards long in their cups, and preparing to take her up to his bed.
TBC?
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...But only if it's a happy ending.
And those lyrics are beautiful. Evanescence is one of mes raisons d'etres!
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Thanks and hopefully Guy will bang on my brain in December :)