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epilogue-and-prologue · 1 year

Text

Devotion

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC TV Series)

Ship: Guy of Gisbourne x Robin Hood's Sister

Trope: Ennemies to lovers (sort of) - Angst with a fluffy ending

Note: @sorisooyaa Second one. I still don't know what to make of it, but it's there sooo....

Word count: 9 258

Warnings: SMUT (because I cannot write a story without a sex scene apparently), violence in acts and in words, threats of rape, threats, betrayal, mentions of starvation and torture. (Promise it's only in passing) Mentions of christian faith from the reader and from Guy.

Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard (I know you love Guy, I hope I did him justice :) ) @sotwk

“I want her imprisoned and hung! Now!”

The outrage was a novelty. Usually, you were only accompanied by the sound of the merchants, maybe the laughing children running around. You were not technically allowed to go out on your own, but the walls of your room were beginning to imprint themselves onto your mind and going crazy was not a death you were willing to live. The heavy hood on your head covered you enough for the Sheriff’s and Gisbourne’s men to patrol by without recognizing you. You were exchanging pleasantries with an old woman, when nearby a tall and broad-shouldered man had screamed after a thief.

“She stole a full loaf of bread! Arrest her!”

Of course, you had not seen the scene. You figured that he was right, the young girl struggling to get out of his grip, proof enough. She was still holding the bread trying to find an escape with her eyes when she landed on you. Why was it always you? You sighed, excusing yourself to the merchant before walking towards the commotion.

“Kind Sir, you would not deprive a young girl of food, would you?”

Only then did he look at you. He was towering over you, still not releasing the girl. With the cloth of her ragged tunic, you could not see, yet it was certain in your mind he was going to leave a mark.

“Only if she pays for it! It’s my life’s work lady. “-I will pay for it. As for you, Sir” you pointed a finger at his face, coming closer, making him step back, “God will see to it that your unchristian behaviour is punished.”

The merchant’s face fell as if the threat really frightened him, and in a swift movement, you pulled the girl out of harm’s way and behind you. She was shaking and crying. Two pieces of silver fell into his hand. Even then, the man did not seem satisfied. This time, he grabbed you by the arm to shake you down. Before you could do anything, the hood you were wearing fell backwards, revealing your face to the soldiers passing by. You panicked. If the Sheriff knew you were there, he was going to have you executed. You were a prisoner of his. Not a guest. He had made sure you had known that when they had found out about your existence.

Being Robin’s sister was not always an easy path to be on. Even if he had left you to watch over your parents’ estate, Robin had been foolish enough to think the Sheriff had principle. Or honour. As soon as he figured out you were related, a mysterious invitation demanded your presence in the city. For your protection. It came from the king. Or so you thought. Upon arrival, you were stripped of your clothes, dressed in rags and left in a prison cell for an unknown period of time with only water and stale bread. He wanted to break you, and he did. After a prolonged time in the shadows, you finally yielded, begging him to take you home. You did not know where Robin was, he knew that. What he wanted was to have you on his side, at least in appearance. You were living within the city walls, under constant surveillance. Luckily, some men and women within the castle were still on Robin’s side and helped you out of that godforsaken prison. What little privilege you had, you had because of your status. The Sheriff could not stop you from spending your own money, nor sending letters containing orders for your employees left to fend for themselves. He wanted to have your goodwill, to turn your brother to disgrace in the eyes of the people and finally capture him. After weeks and months, nothing had changed. The people of Nottingham were still on his side, no matter what. Even worse, they were suspecting something was afoot after you had arrived overnight, seemingly uninvited and did not make any public appearances for a long while. This would be the last straw to your precarious peace with the Sheriff. You turned to the girl, petrified behind you. “Run!” And she bolted. The soldiers noticed your predicament and were walking towards you. Your fingers were digging into the man’s forearm. He did not move. The bruise would have to be covered for the next few days, you thought. If you didn’t get caught before then. You closed your eyes, tears threatening to fall. Upon the soldiers approaching, the merchant thought his case won.

“Finally! I demanded your presence long ago! -Sir, unhand the lady, if you wish to keep your hand.”

The tone was unmistakable, his voice as level as could be. Gisbourne. You were dead.

Escorted by soldiers, you left the market without a word for any of your “saviours”. You could feel the animosity of Gisbourne’s men, angered by all the running around you had provoked. As you came to learn, your escapades were not as sneaky as you had thought. Vaisey had known about them all along, only authorizing them under the scrutiny of his guard dog. Alongside his men of course, tired of spending all their time running after you. Guy of Gisbourne was not what you would call a kind man. Sometimes, he would surprise you and everyone else - probably himself too - by making a merciful decision, such as leaving the girl and not sending after her. You hoped she was alright, these days survival was the only priority. The thought of having her steal again made you inexplicably sad.

Unexpectedly you were propelled forward, the horse under you coming to a halt. You ended up grabbing anything you could, forgetting who was in control of the horse. Hence, finding yourself face first into Gisbourne’s back, your hands clasped around his waist. Of course, he would not let a lady walk back to the castle. Even though you had walked from the castle in the first place. What it told you was not that he was a gentleman, but that he did not want you to run again. The hassle of having to find you the first time was enough for him.

“Milady. You can let go. We have arrived.”

He untangled your hand from his body with a quiet and soft chuckle. The sound surprised you both. A faint red tainted his cheeks as he dismounted. Your eyes scrutinized the man before you. His palm extended towards you, eyes cast downward. His body was stiff, his back straight, a hint of care in his manners. In hindsight, you had never seen him raise his voice at any woman. Not that you were interested in the man, in the first place. He was handsome, yes. When no one was looking, at the Sheriff’s table, you had noticed the way his eyes filled with something… something close to longing. His smile was so rare too. Although, you knew better than to trust appearances and did not dwell on the thought. His hands were covered in blood. That was who he was. Who you were, was someone who would do anything to stop him. This was the only thing you needed to know about Guy of Gisbourne.

You dismounted on your own, the rejection a not-so-subtle way of telling him to leave. Predictively, your clumsiness stroke. Luckily, the last man on Earth you wanted to, caught your waist, steadying you. The warmth of his hands knocked the air out of your lungs. For what felt like an eternity and in the blink of an eye, his palms settled there, thumbs moving in a slow soothing motion. You could feel the heat of his breath on the shell of your ear, his body slightly hovering above you. Every sense was heightened by his proximity. Until you pushed his hands back. Just as he had done with you, you slowly eased his fingers from your waist. The loss was felt deeply. Without turning around, you whispered a muffled “Thank you.” Frowning to yourself, the inner turmoil caused by his touch would not leave you. It had been so careful almost tender. Something stirred in you, unsettling you in the deepest. Gisbourne’s presence had never felt hostile to you, even if you knew of his actions. Somehow, he never felt like a threat to you, even as a sworn enemy and rival of your brother. He could have used you, punish you for what your brother had done - whatever that may have been. Marian was a good part of it, you knew that. She has chosen Robin, not Gisbourne. A cold feeling ran through you: had he ever stopped loving her? Despite everything had he not stopped caring for her? Worse: why was the notion of him caring for someone else, was so upsetting for you? The answer never came. In the shadows, he followed your steps, guiding you silently towards the main hall. You thought you knew what was to come. This moment between the two of you changed everything. But so little at the same time. You were still a prisoner. He was still a monster. Nothing would change that. You gained back composure as you stepped into the hall, hearing his steps closely behind you, ever watchful.

“Milady of Locksley. What a surprise to see you here! And here I thought I would find you in your chambers, quietly reading as a lady is supposed to. Not very lady-like of you to go running around with peasants.”

Vaisey’s breath stunk of wine and red meat. His nose was a mere inch away and you could count the riddles around his eyes as if they interested you. He stepped away, a cheerful expression on his face. That was a first.

“You see, milady, I am afraid that I will have to keep you much longer than anticipated. Indeed, your brother has yet to show a decline in popularity, and you have yet to help us find him… -Sheriff, with all due respect, which is to say none, could you get to the point? I have a better story than yours to get back to.”

Your words rang in the air, echoing through the room. His face was twisted. He gripped your jaw. He, too, would leave bruises you’d have to cover. Somewhere behind you, you could feel Gisbourne straighten. Just as an archer ready to shoot, the arrow taunted and eyes on the target.

“Stupid, silly, little girl. You do not know who you are playing with, do you?”

He observed you, from one side to the other, manhandling your jaw, hurting you more and more. One of your teeth was bound to break if he kept at it. Deliberately, he gripped your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to know he could strangle you in a second.

“Sir…”

It had escaped him. Knowing full well what his superiors would and could do to him, at that moment, Guy did not care. For if he had learned something about you, all those afternoons and mornings watching over your every move, is that you were kind. Smart. Rebellious and resilient more than he could ever be. If he had been foolish enough to say it aloud, he would have said his feelings for you rivaled those he had for Marian. But he could not. Not yet. So, instead, he said the only thing he hoped would save you.

“What? Don’t you see I am occupied?”

He steeled himself for what was to come, stepping next to you.

“Sir, I fear that if any harm were to come to her, the riots would only grow stronger. Would it not be wise to lock her in her room and limit her outings as you thought? -She defies me. She defies you too, you know. Sneaking around, losing your men in the marketplaces and the streets of Nottingham.”

Vaisey eyed his right-hand man. Unfortunately, the appointed Sheriff knew where people’s weaknesses laid, and he knew how to manipulate them.

“Unless… you have a soft spot for maidens in distress? First, Marian and now this one?”

A shiver ran down your spine as he focused on you once again. His hand had an ever-growing grip on your throat, even with you were desperately trying to get his hand to give, nails biting into his flesh, leaving blood and red trails on his wrist. The world was becoming darker with each passing heartbeat, the air barely passing through your lips and nose. Then, abruptly, he released you, and you fell to your knees. Gisbourne did not move, only clenching his fist in frustration as you were coughing harshly at his feet. This was humiliating. When you gained back your breath, you stood up, voluntarily stepping forward, standing your ground. Vaisey laughed, pouring himself another cup of wine. His face lit up. An idea had emerged in his brain and you were not sure you wanted to know what it was.

“Gisbourne, since you cannot seem to keep notorious thief Robin Hood’s little sister under control, how would you like it if I made the task easier for you? -What do you mean?”

He looked you over, lurking at your body as if it was a piece of meat ready to be eaten.

“I mean, that his little bird is not going anywhere. But what better way of keeping her from running if she was bound to this place… in holy matrimony.”

Before you had a chance to realize it, Vaisey ordered his guards to keep you quiet and still. This time, tears did spill, down your cheeks, wetting the hand of whoever was keeping you from speaking.

“I would have taken her for myself, alas my interest lie elsewhere, and I have no patience for a wench who can not keep her place.” The Sheriff licked his lips, visibly amused and excited by your predicament “Although, I would have had a good time taming her.”

Gisbourne was heaving. He could not… would not entertain the idea of marriage. It felt beyond him. A muted hope lit up inside him. Was it the only chance he’d have at love? The beacon was extinguished just as it appeared. You did not want him. None of the women he had cared for wanted him. Guy knew himself to be many things, including a murderer. But forcing your hand, he could not do it.

“My lord, I can not accept. -Oh, but you’ll have to. This” He gestured to you, as you were still struggling against the hold the guards had on you. “Is your punishment. Everything she does you will have to answer for. If you lose her or if she escapes, your head rolls. It was simple enough to keep her within the castle, but you spectacularly failed at that too. I should hope that chained to you, you would not let her go. Find a way to make her tame. Put a baby or two in her, that will keep her occupied.”

The thought of it made you want to gag, your body used and abused, violated beyond recognition, your very existence not your own. You would rather die than suffer such a fate.

“Her presence here is essential. Her brother will come in search of her. If he has not already. The sister escaped you, why would the brother be any different? -Sir… -That is an order! She will be your wife and you will be her husband. I do not want to hear another word from you before I see Robin Hood’s head on a spike. If not his, then it’ll be yours.” Vaisey stepped closer to Guy, a finger pointed at his chest. “Find a priest. Marry the girl. Spread the news and her thighs. The brother will come running. He is a hero after all, is he not?” A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Now out of my sight before I change my mind and have you both hung.”

The guards released you within the confines of your bedroom. Gisbourne had not followed. He was probably searching for a priest at this very moment. You felt stupid for ever thinking something could be salvaged about him. Whatever your heart and body were telling you, they had to be wrong. That moment had been a fluke, a passage of weakness you would soon come to forget about. Nighttime came and still no sign of him. Maybe, just maybe, he had fled, to save himself from impending death. Your skin was tingling where he had touched you still. The bruises on your arms and throat were more painful though, erasing any softness you could have felt. Despite your initial doubts and hopes, Gisbourne did show up. With a priest. Neither addressed you, only stepping in the room without being invited to. Even if you had wanted to speak, your throat felt as if it was about to rupture.

“Is this the lady?”

Guy nodded. His breath hitched in his throat upon seeing your arm and neck. The purple marks were still there, an awful reminder of what you had survived. And what he could not prevent.

“Place yourself in front of one another.”

You looked at Gisbourne, words stuck. You frowned. He looked so lost. Awkward, bashful even. He took his gloves off, revealing his hands. He took yours in his with careful movements, minding your injuries. It confused you, his gentle manners and his murderous ways. You followed him, moving according to the priest’s demands. You would not be able to escape this, even if you ran he would catch you, you could not scream, and he had to have bribed the priest into some sort of agreement. It was all orchestrated to trap you. The lump in your throat made it even harder to breathe. The robes of the priest smelled of wine and sweat. He was probably somewhere else when Gisbourne had plucked him out. He did not even ask for your consent. Merely mumbled the vows and added: “You may kiss the bride.”

Gisborne was unreadable, even at such a short distance. Closing your eyes in the hopes it would pass soon, the warmth of his fingertips putting a strand of your hair away made you jump. You heard a sharp intake of air before he leaned in and put his lips to your cheek. It was slow, thought-through, and delicate. So many adjectives, you would never have associated with him, as late as of this morning. Once the priest went, he lingered in the room, fidgeting with his gloves. It felt as if he was about to say something. But he shut his mouth and left the room. He did not come back. Not even to claim what was his to claim. Insomnia plagued you that night, not being able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, until dawn came, all too soon.

Somehow, the Sheriff had organized what he called an “impromptu” dinner for your “hidden” union. One he intended to see to the consumption. The thought left you quiet and frightened. The bruises on your forearm and neck were now yellowish, healing slowly but surely. Unlike your ego. Vaisey was a snake. He needed to be treated like one. Poisoned by his fangs. Nevertheless, this was not the most pressing issue at the moment. Your heartbeat was erratic, panic settling in your bones at the Sheriff’s initial intentions. Gisbourne had not appeared again after last night. Hopelessly, you had thought he would. To talk at least. This was a brutal way of marrying someone. Your faith had guided you all your life. This marriage even if forced was to be respected. You were to spend the rest of your lives together and it felt strange to avoid each other like so. A young maid knocked on the door, before entering your room. She helped you get changed, and left again without a word. This silence around you was going to drive you insane. You grabbed your coat, opening your bedroom door in a hurry, only to be met with two guards and Guy of Gisbourne about to knock.

“Oh.”

Guy looked you over. You were breathing rapidly, from what he assumed to be the hurry you were in, your dress in a maroon colour he immediately recognized. Despite the Sheriff’s threat, you were about to go out. He gritted his teeth.

“Leave us.”

The guards hesitated. He threw them a look over his shoulder and they left rapidly. Without asking you, he stepped forward, making you go back into your room. Your hands were still clutching your cloak. Fear took you over as he closed the door behind him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

His eyes met yours, his full height towering above you. You craned your neck to meet his stare with the powerful force of the steel hiding in them.

“The Sheriff specifically asked for you to stay here. -I know.”

Your voice was hoarse and harsher than you intended it to be. His hand inched toward your neck, and you flinched. He pulled back when he saw it, not wanting to hurt you more.

“If you know, then why were you about to leave?”

He signaled to your hands, holding on to the cloth for dear life. He kept overstepping into your space, making you step back until you could not anymore, stuck between the wall and his unimpressed stare.

“I wasn’t… -Do you think me a fool?”

You bit your lip. Answering him would only bring more trouble.

“Do not answer that. I do not need your wits today.”

He sighed, lowering his head in an exasperated gesture. He was resigned, you would always defy the Sheriff’s authority. He only had to make sure you were not slandering his name. Or running off into the forest. Away from him, he thought.

“If we want this” he gestured between the two of you, even with the minimal space left. You could feel his breath against your cheeks. It only made them warmer, remembering the dream from the night before. “To work, you will have to follow the rules.” You scoffed, undignified.

“I am not one of your men, you cannot tell me what to… -I am not trying to tell you what to do, I am trying to protect you!”

He was angry. Frustrated by your actions. You knew he was right, even if you did not want him to be. He was right. It felt excruciating, the tear in your mind almost able to be touched, between reason and feelings, between the will to leave and the fact that you would be leaving everything behind. Including him. You looked up, staring straight into his eyes, willing yourself to put up a front. Always. The only thing you had not accounted for was the way he looked at you. His mouth agape, affection clear on his face. His pupils were blown, as dark as the abyss you were falling into. His brows furrowed in frustration and fear. You wanted to think he was genuine in his intentions, but the voice of reason was always pulling you back. He wanted your brother dead, you told yourself. That was more than ample reason to hate the man, anger flaring up in you, destroying everything in its path. You lowered your eyes, missing the way he pulled away from you, wounded, stepping back until he opened the door and turned one last time to you.

“I have no intention of forcing your hand. You make your own choices. Yet, those choices implicate me now. Would you consider it the next time you try to run away? -Why would I? My brother is in danger because of you! Because of you and your misplaced attachment!”

The words had escaped you before you could think. It was as if the place was set on fire all of a sudden. He did not touch you, but he might as well have with the brutality of his words.

“My misplaced attachment? Do you remember who your brother is? Who you are loyal to? His actions have led to lives lost! He is a thief! -Just like the Sheriff and you then! My loyalty is the only thing keeping you and your men from killing him! He is my brother! We grew up together! We…” Tears swelled in your eyes. Your hand drew his eyes to your collarbones and the yellow bruise on your throat. Guilt washed over him. He let that happen to you. The sadness, the anguish of not knowing if Robin was alive, everything for him to see written plain as day on your face. What husband did he make causing you to suffer, not being able to defend yourself…

“We grieved our parents together. We shared secrets, waves of laughter and scrapped knees. Late night stories and early morning horse-rides…” Something in you snapped. You turned away from Gisbourne, fearing for your life if he was to reach out to you.

“I had to marry you. Spend the rest of my life… with someone who wants to kill the only family I have left. Do you see the torture I am in or are you just blind?”

His silence made you wonder if he had not left the room altogether. Guy was taken aback by your sudden outburst. His honour depended on him achieving what the Sheriff asked him to do. His heart on the other hand… Seeing you hurt, desperate, and your spirits broken was the last thing he wanted to do. Marian came to his mind, fleeting, only passing through to remind him: she did not choose him. Neither did you. Would he ever learn? His love was not worth it. His affections were not required. All he loved, he loved alone. It was time he accepted it. A soft thud echoed in your bedroom. He had put a box on a table, near the fireplace.

“I will leave this here. If you will, I… I could accompany you. Outside, to the market, wherever you want to go.”

You did not answer, wrapping your arms around yourself, the sobs finally stopping. It was pathetic. How much you wanted him to say he was sorry, so you could forgive him.

“I hoped…” his throat felt tight, keeping the words at bay for a minute “I hoped that at least, my company would not be such a burden for you to bear. Maybe not now, but in the future. I have no wish to see you suffer. Nor in pain.”

A muted metallic sound let you know he had left the room. When you turned around, a faint smell of leather and heat was still lingering in the air. It made your heart clench. You went on to look at the small wooden box he had left on the table. Your fingers opened it before you could think the action through. A wedding band. You closed it in a hurry, afraid and happy.

The banquet arrived all too fast. Vaisey had outdone himself. Or told someone to. The decorations were nothing short of ostentatious, tapestries hanging from the walls, candles being lit everywhere, and tables full of plates capable of feeding more than a family of four could have in months. It was disingenuous, a display of wealth you could not bear to see. Gisbourne arrived soon after you. He looked at your hands. The band was there, settled perfectly on your finger. His chest filled with pride.

“Milady. -Sir.”

You bowed to him, willing yourself to be impassible. So far, if your companion’s stare was any indication, it worked. He offered you his arm, and you felt yourself tremble, laying your hand on his forearm. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, his lips leaving a hot feeling where they met your wedding band. It had taken you hours to decide whether or not you were going to wear it. Not wearing it would mean a sign of defiance to the Sheriff and you did not need any more of his wandering eyes on you, whereas wearing it meant… meant you belonged to someone, which left a sour taste in your mouth. Out of the two evils, at least you knew one of them to be more benevolent than the other.

“The newlyweds!”

The cry made you stiffen in fear. Your hand gripped Guy’s arm in response to it. He stood up, head high, putting himself a step before you, in a posture you assumed to be of protection. Was he protecting you? The thought was quickly erased from your mind, and the hope accompanying it was sniffed out when he let go of your hand. Vaisey was arriving towards you. Instinctively, you stepped forward almost colliding with Guy’s shoulders. Your hand wasn’t even an inch away from his.

“Gisbourne. Any news on the Locksley front?

Men have been posted at all entries. Guards as well.”

You clenched your jaw, looking at him sideways. The bastard.

“Oh. Milady of Gisbourne is not too happy about it. Remember, if you can’t tame her, I’ll be happy to do it myself…”

Guy’s face was stern. No emotions transpired. There, next to him, you worried he might lurch and kill the Sheriff with his own hands. Your palm met his wrist as he was about to raise his hand. His eyes snapped to you, surprised by your gesture. Though, you were not looking at him. With a saccharine smile on your lips, you addressed Visay straight on.

“I will have you know Sheriff that my husband sleeps with a sword next to him. I, on the other hand, prefer a good old dagger. Covered in poison of course. Would you like to know the provider for such a weapon? Coups are so frequent these days. Especially with…” you eyed him up and down, biting back a smirk. “Temporary replacements.”

Your tone was laced with charm and softness, yet the sharp threat underneath it all was clear.

“If that was all, I believe the first dance is ours. You’ll excuse us, will you not?”

Visay gritted his teeth, Gisbourne visibly approving of your behaviour.

“Of course, Milady.”

He let you pass in front, stopping Gisbourne in his tracks. “Get him. I will not accept another failure from you. Think about what I could do with her once you’re out of the way…”

You had stopped a few steps ahead, looking around, head high as always, saluting nobles of the court in a rehearsed manner. Guy nodded curtly before leaving Visay right there. The Sheriff did not know if he had made a wise choice when putting the two of you together. He hoped for more fight, even some evident traces of violence on you. Anything to get the Hood’s blood boiling. As usual, he feared his amusement had gotten the better of him. He should have taken care of this himself.

The feast lasted until the heavy hours of the night, leaving drunkards and young couples behind. Your feet were killing you, the wine still present in your body making you lean into Guy a lot more than you would have done sober. He was not complaining. Your hair smelled divine, with fresh flowers and honey. Maybe he had drunk a little too much himself. Or not enough for what he was about to do. He accompanied you back to your chambers, opening the door for you to step in. Without a second thought, you took your shoes off, walking barefoot on the cold stone floor, a sigh of contentment passing through your lips. The guards were dismissed. Gisbourne, hypnotized by you, smiled despite himself. You were flushed, eyes just as fiery as ever, but, still, not looking at him. He put his hand inside one of his pockets. What he had between his fingers was enough to get him executed for treason. Although he had made his choice, Guy was not sure what your reaction to this would be. You were his to protect and to love. To serve too. His choice was made. The price for it would come soon enough.

“Your brother left this for you.”

You opened your eyes, not quite believing your ears. Guy was reaching out, putting a piece of paper in your hand. He closed your fingers around it, seeing your face going from one emotion to the other, not knowing what to do with yourself. You sat down on the edge of your bed, carefully opening it. A small flower fell. A forget-me-not. You smiled. Guy’s heart skipped a beat when you brought the flower to your lips. How he wished to be those petals, graced by your breath. Graced by you. What you read made you laugh, and cry a little. The whole time he just stood there waiting for you to finish it. The closed door next to him was calling for him to leave. Hope in his chest told him to stay, just for a little while longer. The letter wasn’t even that long. In essence, Robin was asking for you to keep your head low until he would come and save you. He had not abandoned you. Your eyes met Guy’s over the paper. He seemed out of place, a prisoner of his world. He had done that for you. Collected a message from Robin for you. He had risked his life for you. A warm feeling erupted in your chest akin to birds in flight. The relief in your eyes stopped his breath. You got up from the bed, your dress caressing the floor in gentle sounds. He felt more than he saw your hand on his chest, pulling yourself up. Your lips on his cheek melted everything. The armour, the mask he wore, his barriers, walls… Everything, in one kiss. His breath hitched when you pulled away.

“Thank you.”

The words rang in his ears. His hand came to rest upon yours, right above his heart. The drumming beat underneath your fingers echoed your own. He leaned, his forehead meeting yours in an intimate embrace. Soon, he pulled away, earning a heavy sigh from your lips. Your head bowed questioned him. He pulled your chin up, delicately.

“What is the matter?”

Close like this, his voice resonated through you like a lightning bolt in the dark. Your eyebrows were knitted together, hesitation etched in your eyes. You showed him the letter.

“Is this… are you still going after him?”

His hands went to your cheeks, keeping your eyes level with his. There was nothing but pure devotion in his eyes. It made you shiver. Only then, did you realize the power this man held over you. And you over him.

“I have cared for you long enough to know I would do anything not to hurt you. Including betraying my values and duties. I would burn the world to the ground if only to make you smile at me.”

He looked at you intently, his thumb tracing the shape of the apple of your cheek, drawing his fingers lower still, settling on your jaw. The sensation was overwhelming you, your ragged breath fanning over his cheeks, your sensations swallowing your thoughts entirely.

“Guy.”

He was startled by the sound coming out of your mouth. That name had been nothing short of a curse for him, yet it felt the greatest blessing of them all in your mouth.

“Yes? -Kiss me.”

A split second passed before he pulled you in by the waist, closing the distance between the two of you. His kisses began gentle, tender, turning hungry, harsh, pulling moans and whimpers out of you. He was gripping your hips, before embracing your whole body in his arms, willing for you to be one. His lips traveled to the junction of your shoulder and neck, gently nipping. You yelped, alarming him.

“Are you hurt? -No. Quite the opposite…”

He frowned, barely catching his breath before you pulled him with you towards the bed. You met no resistance. You made him sit, placing yourself between his legs, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. His hands moved up to your hips, enticing you closer. His forehead met your sternum, your fingers carding through his hair, dark locks untangling between your knuckles. The air was stifled between desire and agony, not knowing how far things could go, or how far either of you wanted it to go. So, you stayed there, him hugging your body as he would a lifeline; you kept him there, caressing his face in slow motions, reassuring yourself he was indeed real. Time passed without either of you noticing, until Guy looked up at you, murmuring your name, mouth barely opened, scared he would chase the dream away.

“Aren’t your legs hurting? -A little. Nothing I can’t…”

His hands were faster than your words as he pulled your knees up, one after the other, making you sit on his lap. An involuntary gasp passed your lips. His smirk was quickly hidden. Without another word, he kissed you again, leisurely mapping over the expanse of your stomach, your back, your ass, your thighs. It knocked every hesitation you might have had out of the window. You willed your legs wider apart, pulling your dress higher than needed, revealing skin and heat. Your fingertips toying with the collar of his shirt were finally met with his as he pulled it off. His eyes met yours, ever so inquisitive. His scars were visible, some deeper than others. It was only fair to show him yours in return. As if reading your mind, he pushed you off of him, getting up from the bed and turning you around. The only sounds you heard were the unmistakable sound of a blade and the snap your laces made as they were cut through. The corset fell to the floor, your hands pulled the rest of the clothes down. Your back was littered with traces of whips. Some of them were so deep, it must have been hard to move for several weeks after that. As he did not move, you turned around awkwardly covering your breasts, modestly trying to hide them.

“Who?”

His hands grabbed your face, anger transpiring.

“Visay.”

He looked at you, all frowns and tears unshed. His eyes were glimmering with them. You reached to him, erasing them in earnest. “I’ll kill him for…” Your lips shushed him in a heated kiss. You guided his hands on your body, eyes pleading with him. Not tonight. Not now. Obedient as ever, he complied. You laid down on the bed, his body hovering above you. His lips and moans were tantalizing. As if in trance, he followed down the path from your jaws to your collarbone, mindful of the bruises there, worshiping this body of yours in every touch, every moment. His movements were calculated, even if hesitant, always asking you if you were feeling good, making sure your desires were fulfilled. You could feel the hammer in his chest resonating through your ribcage, through the skin, in echo with you. Soon, you found yourself closing your eyes, your breathing altered in a shapeless rhythm. Your knuckles were turning white, your hands clawing at the sheets like a woman possessed. The way his tongue curled against you made you lose all train of thought. As if he had done it thousand times before, his lips were making sinful sounds, while his nose was pressing against the apex of your thighs. The pleasure you felt, kept on growing and growing until you could not hold it anymore. Silently, you arched your back a soundless cry leaving your lips. Guy pulled away. His head leaned against your thigh, an easy smile appearing on his gleaming mouth. You could feel, still, his hand on your hip drawing mindless patterns there. You reached out for him. Before you could think of anything to say, he pulled you to his bare chest, leaving no space between you two. Without an afterthought, his rough fingertips were caressing the birth of your back in a soothing gesture. It lulled you to sleep quickly, feeling safe and sound in this bed with him. The thought almost made him cry. Him, whose only purpose was to fight, to obey, to threaten and to be violent, had found in you a new home. A new reason for a new beginning. He promised himself then, that whatever was to happen next, he would never let anyone ever, hurt you again.

Upon the morning, your hand reached out for him in a familiar gesture you did not know you had. His face was peaceful for once, a deep sense of contentment settling in his brow. Leaning up, you placed a delicate kiss on his cheek bone. He stirred a little, his hand curving around your waist, pulling your body closer to him. The cold air of the room and the sunlight sneaking through the window brought a sense of urgency over you. He had spent the night here. In your bed. You sat up in a hurry, pulling your night dress over your head. But, before you could get yourself more stressed out, he pulled you in bed with him, visibly very widely awake this time.

“What are you doing?”

The gruff of his voice made you shiver slightly. You caressed his jaw, the stubble there scratching your palms, a hint of a worry in your voice. “You spent the night.”

He smiled lazily into your hair, his hand settling at the nape of your neck.

“Yes. I believed it is allowed between a husband and his wife.”

Oh. Oh. Would he believe you had forgotten about that? Yes, it even made him laugh. You were so cute when confused like this. Mornings were not on your side by any means but this was new. The domesticity was new. You did not know how to feel about it.

“I… -You forgot. -I did not. -You did.”

You hit his shoulder, half a smile on your face. He pulled your chin up, hooded eyes meeting yours. His lips leisurely covered yours in a deliberately slow kiss. His chest was warm against your palms. Eager to meet his skin, your fingers ran across the planes of his back, while he pushed you down, spreading your thighs with his hips. His hands made your back arch against him, your breasts peaking under him meeting his chest through the cloth of your dress. He was hard against your abdomen. Desire pooled there, down, between your lips as well at the idea of him deeply seethed inside you. Guy must have sensed it, for he pulled any remaining garments off of you, before taking your hand in his. Kneeling on the bed, he put your sweaty palm against his waist, letting you found your way to the waistband of his trousers. The leather there clung onto his skin, just a little too tight not to notice the bulge threatening to snap the cloth in two. Your fingers were shaking as you undid his bounds. Then, once you were done, he pulled them down and he was finally bare in front of you. In the morning light, he was glorious. Breathtaking. You leaned against one of the post of the bed, biting your lips hard. You were clenching on nothing, seeing him there. He smiled wickedly at you, all but throwing himself on you, devouring your mouth in a hungry haze you never wanted to snap out of. Quickly, his fingers find the hair between your thighs, caressing down until he met your clit, drawing heavy, long, drawn out circles around it. He felt so powerful. More powerful than he had ever been before. Graced by God in the perfection that you were. He felt trusted and trusting. Your eyes met his in a silent plea. The need for him was plain and simple. Still, he could not help himself.

“Are you sure?”

Surprised, he followed your pull on his neck to your lips, all but falling into you.

“Yes. God, please, yes.”

The ushered tone to his ears, your legs secured around him while your hips could not help but press onto his cock. He readjusted his hold on you, entering you in one swift movement. The cry escaping your lips was nothing short of sinful. He could live only hearing that noise, over and over and over again. The burn of him soon left to be replace by untethered pleasure. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. You could feel him inside of you, move and hold on to you as he would a lifeline. His grip on your hips tightened. Those bruises you would cherish, you were sure of it. Your chest fell and rose with each movement. It elicited so many sensations in you, you were incapable of forming words or thoughts. His mouth met your shoulder in an attempt to keep quiet but to no avail. You felt his release deep inside you, quickly followed by your own.

As he pulled himself off of you, a knock resonated through the room. You exchanged an inquisitive look with Guy. You were not expecting anyone today. A second knock, much more impatient, hit the door. You pulled yourself up, and covered yourself in your night dress, opening the door slightly. It was pushed open by none other than Visay.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? Lovebirds huh? How sweet is that?”

The guards behind him laughed heavily. You doubted they were genuine. Guy had barely had the time to put on his trousers.

“Gisbourne, I need you to make a sweep in the castle and in the town. Apparently, our dear Hood was there yesterday. Yet, he still escaped you.” His forefinger dug into Guy’s chest. He remained stoic, almost calm. His eyes felt heavy on you, sparing only a glance before Visay almost kicked him out. In a flash of remembrance, you wondered where the letter he had brought you the day before was. But before you could recall, Visay gripped one of your wrist twisting it until you could no longer move your arm. The guards, even if not entirely in agreement with him, were afraid, and frightened men were even more loyal to the one holding the chains than the one being beat up with them. Their eyes told you that if you made a move, they’d make you pay double for it. On the verge of stepping out of the door, Guy turned around, eerily quiet. He was buttoning up his shirt, taking his time. Somehow, you knew what he was about to do before he did it. He pulled out a knife out of one of his boots and threw it in Visay’s direction before he was grabbed by the guards. He was pushed to his knees in an instant. Visay merely laughed before releasing you and picking the knife up.

“Oh my poor Gisbourne. Has your brain gone to goo?…” He kneeled in front of him. Gesturing towards you he added: “Or has the pussy been that good?”

Without a second thought, Guy spat in his face. Visay’s first instinct was to strike him, so he did. His second instinct was to strike him a second time, but he thought better of it. He had quite the tools at his disposal to make him yield. Including you. The knife in hand, he turned around and pushed you down.

“Poor little bird… Doesn’t know what’s best for her? I’ll show you what’s best for you, you bitch.”

You knew exactly what he meant to do as punishment for Guy’s affront. One of his hand blocked your wrists above your head, as his knee was pulling your thighs apart. The knife started to tear at the cloth you were wearing. It would not hold long against it. Despite his best efforts your husband could not get out of the grip the guards had on him. Still, he trashed like a man possessed. Yelling insults and threats you could not hear. You could only hear that old man on top of you, his knife leaving marks deep in your skin, trying to entice you into keeping your legs open for him. You knew how to trash around too. One of your knees made contact with his groin and he doubled over in pain. Guy stopped moving when he saw you had the knife in your hands. His face went white when he saw the blood on you. Visay was less than happy about your little stunt. While the room had gone quiet, even the guards not daring to move, Guy jumped to his feet and knocked Visay down in one motion. He pulled him by the collar, and knocked his head and body against the wall so hard, he would have a concussion later on. For the moment you did not care. Everything was hurting, your thighs, your chest, your arms. The monster had left almost no part of you intact. Suddenly tired, you relinquished the knife to Guy’s expertise. Without an afterthought, he plunged it into Visay’s guts. The man was moving like a loose puppet, making the blade only go deeper in the wound. The loyal men did nothing. They were too afraid of the one who had defied their boss and won. In a disarray, the soldiers let both you and Guy leave unscathed. And you followed him. As you would to the ends of the Earth. You felt a fool for trusting him too fast. Yet, he had thrown away everything he held dear and holy, for you. Only for you. But you were so tired. Before you could stop it, you collapsed against the stone floors.

When you opened your eyes, everything was dark. A little light came through some kind of cloth above you. Had the sky been torn? Your head was pounding, but at least, you could feel your arms and legs. As well as a light movement from where you were. Using your hands you pushed upwards and sat up. Horses. It smelled like horses. And the grass. God, how much you had missed the smell of grass. You were in a carriage, it seemed. One of hay, perhaps? It was too dark to tell. Your wounds stung as you moved around. Only then did you notice the fresh bandages on your limbs and the new brown cloth of a gown you did not own. A hand pushed you back down. A woman’s hand. Her words were hard to understand but when you saw her face, you knew exactly where you were. Or at least where you were headed.

“Marian?”

She called your name again, this time you heard loud and clear.

“You need some rest, please, lay back down. -How? Where?… Where’s Guy? We were with Visay and then… -Slow down. We know. He told us.”

You frowned. Her voice was soothing you yet your thoughts were spinning out of control.

“He told you? What…?”

The carriage came to a stop then. The light came in as someone pulled the cloth apart, revealing the early evening sky behind them. You could recognize that face anywhere.

“Robin!”

You winced as you jumped off your feet and out of the carriage, hugging your brother as if your life depended on it.

“Oh my God, I really thought for a second…” You pushed out of the embrace in a swift motion, keeping him at arms length. “Wait. You had me so worried! I’ve spent months in that castle trying to escape and you come in now?! I’ve been waiting the whole time! What took you so long!” You slapped his shoulder and he pretended for a minute to be hurt.

“I am sorry I could not get you before. We had our own adventures to deal with. But as soon as I heard you were married to Gisbourne I had to come to get you! -You do hate the man. -I do. I did. He did help you escape though.”

You smiled fondly at Robin, his soft side always a reminder of the good in this world. An anxious thought reached your mind.

“Where is he, Robin?”

A queasy smile on his face, he gestured to the head of the carriage. There, you could see Guy’s silhouette dismounting. His eyes met yours. He ran to you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

His eyes were mischievous but the strong hold he had on your shoulder was a sign he was not joking. He pulled you against him, kissing the crown of your head, his hands settling on your face. His thumbs moving in slow circles on your cheeks, settling himself in your warmth and real breaths.

“I am alright now. Thanks to you.”

A pained expression appeared on his face.

“No. I… was helpless. I could not save you. I could not protect you… I…”

The kiss was meant to be reassuring and innocent. Instead it turned hungry and passionate. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Marian and Robin walking away silently.

“You did save me. You save me, everyday. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been forced to marry someone else but you… -Perish the thought. I’m never letting you marry anyone else.”

Your laugh echoed in his ear, like a sound he knew by heart and was discovering for the first time in years. All of a sudden he felt emotional. Needing to tell you how much he adored you.

“I never realized it until now but I think… I truly think I was in love with you even before we met…”

Your stunned silence drove his thoughts in the wrong direction.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same. Not yet anyway. It’s alright. I have you, so, everything will be alright.”

His arms tightened around your waist, your forehead against his chest. A moment passed in silence. The words were escaping you, but they’d have to do anyhow.

“ Guy… I… I can not imagine a future without you in it. Our relationship moved so fast, it shook me a little. But… I don’t want a life where you’re not in with me. No. I cannot and will never picture a life where you are not tied to me like you are right now. If this is not love, I don’t know what it is…”

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, the forest behind and the people in the camp talking. He was listening to you, you knew that. If he was hearing you was something else entirely. Your fingertips found the side of his face and forced him to look at you.

“Guy of Gisbourne, I believe I was not in love with you before we met. I know I hated you with everything in my being. And then you touched me and everything changed. You fell for me softly and reverently as you do with all things. I fell for you - as I do in life - passionately and wholeheartedly. I don’t regret it. I love you, Guy of Gisbourne… Whether you like or not.”

He looked at you with awe, wondering for a moment how lucky he could have been to find you in this life. He had been right about something. With you, everything was going to be alright.

#robin hood bbc #guy of gisbourne x f!reader #robin's sister!au #gisbourne x reader #tw: smut #tw: physical abuse #tw: mental abuse #tw: religion #devotion #one-shot

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albionscastle · 1 year

Text

Baggage

Chapter 1: Little Brat

Guy of Gisbourne & OC

Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Black Knight, Enforcer of the Sheriff and general asshat finds a little creature that may or may not change his life.

*this fic came about while chatting with the lovely @captaintauriel77 about how soft we thought Gisbourne would be with a little girl. It has kind of exploded from there. Thank you for supporting all my crazy ideas.

tw* mild mentions of violence AO3 link

Fic Masterlist

Sir Guy of Gisbourne was in a foul mood. He stomped through the castle and everyone was quick to get the hell out of the giant man's way before they were swatted, shoved or even stabbed. He had been known to do all when he was particularly pissed. No-one wanted to be on the receiving end of Gisbourne's temper, or any other mood he might be experiencing for that matter. As he stalked the passageways of the castle, all Guy could think about was how badly he wanted to escape. He couldn't breathe here, the walls always seemed as though they were closing in on him and he mostly felt like an animal trapped in a cage. He hated the Sheriff, he had always hated the man, and while he enjoyed the power he had, he didn't always feel the glee he portrayed whilst carrying out his duties. Neither did he enjoy some of the "attention" that Vaisey had been showing him of late. Oh he knew there were men and women in the world of a particular persuasion and ordinarily it didn't bother him in the slightest, but this man was a snake, evil to the core and the mere sight of him made him want to vomit. Gisbourne himself was a man of very questionable morals, he admitted, but he didn't think he was the monster that Vaisey was. Not yet at least.

Even if he appeared to be one.

He left the castle as soon as he could, preferring to ride to Loxley alone at night, rather than spend another moment in the stifling atmosphere of Nottingham. It wasn't as though Hood ever strayed from whatever hovel he was holed up in at night anymore. Apparently he had better things to occupy his time with, Guy thought bitterly as he imagined Robin and Marian together, not understanding why he tortured himself this way.

Pulling his horse up in front of his manor, he felt himself getting calmer, at least as calm as he ever could be. This wasn't home, not really, home was long gone, burned into ashes along with his parents, and his sister was somewhere far away where he couldn't reach her. Everyone he had ever loved no longer existed in his world, and he no longer cared much about anyone in this one. The one person he had dared to love had betrayed him, and she had broken his heart into a million pieces with a damn smile on her face. He had wanted, in that moment, to kill her, to make her bleed into the dust of the Holy Land as she had made his heart bleed into his chest. Guy had thought himself a worthy catch, he had money, a home and lands, a title. Had Marian married him he would have treated her like a queen, but instead she had now gone off to live in the forest with that skinny, sanctimonious hypocrite, Loxley. The man still looked like a boy and he really was far too judgemental for someone who had delighted in throwing rocks at him as a child.

A smirk stretched Guy's lips as he dismounted, leading his horse into the stable. He felt no guilt about usurping Robin's lands and living in his house, if anything the bastard deserved it for all the years of bullying. If the mother had still lived, things might be different, or at the least Guy would have made sure she was comfortable as Lady Loxley had always been kind to him as a child. If there was one thing that he truly hated it was the mistreatment of a woman or a child. Vaisey could never know that and as such Guy had too often participated in the harassment or killing of both. He took no pleasure in it and he never prolonged the event. If they had to be dispatched he did so with the efficiency of an assassin. If they had to be tossed from their homes, it was with a few coins hidden in their meager belongings. If Vaisey had any inkling then he would have another way to manipulate him as he had no qualms about hurting women and children, in fact he enjoyed it all the more. At least Guy had never crossed the line of killing for killing's sake.

Gisbourne would never admit it out loud but he had been ashamed of the way he had behaved after Marian had left him at the altar. It was why he had left her with Robin in the Holy Land. Burning down her home had not been his finest hour, but that was how he had always been. If he hurt he became like a rabid animal, fighting in anger and pain against whoever was doing the hurting. He had lashed out and acted as less than a man and for that he was sorry. Not that it mattered anyway, Marian had hurt him so badly that he had vowed to never let a soul get near him again. It was a lonely existence, but at least he would never hurt like that again.

A sniffle from inside the stable suddenly caught his attention and he was instantly on his guard. Silently drawing his sword, Guy stalked to the entryway, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched in the gloom for whoever was hiding back there. He bared his teeth, hearing another noise that sounded like a sob coming from behind the hay in the corner. His prey had no idea that he was even there and like a panther, Guy slid through the dark, looking forward to facing the intruder who dared to hide from him. He was spoiling for a fight.

Moving into place, he slid over the hay, swiping his sword through the air.

“Gotcha!” he sneered, taking a step forward to dispatch his unwitting victim.

The stopped dead in his tracks at the same moment a shrill squeal pierced the air.

It wasn’t a man he saw in front of him but a filthy little girl, who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight winters, crouched in the corner and gaping at him with fear in her eyes. Her skinny arms were raised, as if to fend him off and he could just make out a ratty blanket laying across a pile of hay. Guy was so shocked that he didn’t move for a moment while he tried to process his thoughts. For some reason the fear in the child’s eyes angered him and he snarled at her, causing her to try and back further away from him.

“Nowhere to go, little one.” his voice was menacing, he wanted to scare the little brat who had the audacity to sneak into his stable. He took a step forward, knowing his black cloak and large frame had to terrify her.

“What are you doing here?” He watched her gulp. “Tell me, before I run you through!”

Big, fat tears started to streak down the dirt on her face and Guy felt a tiny nudge of guilt gnawing at his gut. Still, he couldn’t take any chances, even a small child could easily be used as a spy for Hood or the Sheriff. She continued to silently stare at him, her little body trembling from both cold and terror. With a sigh, Gisbourne sheathed his sword and squatted down in front of the child, running a gloved hand down his face. He was tired, aggravated and he just wanted to go to sleep yet instead he was doing this, whatever this was.

“I am losing my patience, child. I won’t hurt you but I wish to know how you came to be here.”

“You just said you would run me through!” the girl cried out, before covering her mouth with her hands.

“So you do speak?” Guy’s eyebrow arched, her little spark amused him. “Then you can tell me who you are and where you come from.”

“I don’t know where I am.” she squeaked. “I come from Lincoln. Please don’t hurt me sir, I just wanted to sleep, I’m so tired. I didn’t mean to be a problem. I’ll leave, I promise.”

She started to gather her little satchel and blanket.

“Stop!” Guy commanded, and she instantly obeyed. “You go nowhere Until I’m sure you aren’t a spy.”

“I’m not a spy, I’m a kid.” she muttered.

A sassy kid at that, Guy thought.

“You are in Nottinghamshire, there are spies everywhere, many of them children. We hang little spies as well as big ones.”

‘I’m not a spy!” She stomped her foot as hard as she could. “I don’t have a home and I am tired. I didn’t think anyone would mind. It’s not like I stole anything.”

She thrust her satchel at him, sounding offended even though he had not accused her of stealing.

“Well this is my stable so I might mind you’re being here.” he looked through her bag and saw nothing but a ragged doll, some stale bread and a piece of moldy cheese. As if on cue, he heard the girl’s stomach rumble angrily. She was so skinny she looked like she was wasting away and even in the gloominess Guy could see the dark shadows under her eyes. He had been her once.

“And who are you then?”

“The Lord of this manor.” Guy shrugged.

“I figured that part out already.” she grumbled. “What Manor? Which Lord?”

“Locksley Manor, Sir Guy of Gisborne at your service.” He mocked, hardly surprised when her face went bone white under the dirt.

“Please, please don’t hurt me.” she started begging. “I’ll leave, I promise! I never would have come here if I had known.”

“Known what?” Gisbourne snapped.

“That, that….you were the Lord here!”

“I suggest you explain to me what you mean by that statement, child.”

She shook her head.

“Do as I say!” he roared.

The girl yelped.

“I heard people talking about you in one of the villages. They were very cruel to me.” she swallowed hard. “They said that Guy of Gisbourne was a monster.”

He had no doubt that he certainly looked like one to this girl.

“Go on.”

“Please sir, don’t make me.”

“Do it if you wish to live.”

‘Alright. They said you were a cruel man, that you enjoyed torturing and killing people. They said you were evil, like a demon from hell.”

Guy threw back his head and laughed.

“I am no demon from hell, child, just a man. But I am cruel, do not doubt that.”

“Do you really enjoy torturing and killing people?” she whispered.

“No.” he surprised himself with that admittance. “But I have done both, and likely will again.”

“Why?”

“Because it is my job.” he shrugged.

“You should get another job.” she stated matter-of -factly.

“Probably, but as you have heard, I’m a monster.”

She regarded him with a stare that made him very uncomfortable.

“I don’t think you are, Sir. Maybe a bad man, but not a monster.”

“And what makes you think that I’m not a monster?” he growled.

“You took care of your horse. A monster wouldn’t do that.”

The logic of a child. He rose suddenly and grabbed the girl by the back of her, whatever she was wearing, and lifted her off the ground while she kicked and screamed. She connected her feet with his knee a few times as he stomped to the manor and he was pretty sure she called him a bastard whoreson at one point. Begrudgingly he admired her spirit, even as he accepted that he would have several bruises the next day.

Throwing the door to the house open, Guy strode across the hall and back to the kitchen, the child squirming the whole way. Agnes, the cook, stood from her seat, eyes wide as the Master clomped in and dropped the child at her feet.

“Please do something about…this.” he gestured to the girl who was glaring at him from the floor. “I think it's a girl, but I can’t be sure through all that dirt and muck. A bath, a meal, some clothing and a place to sleep. Don’t take your eyes off her for a second.

“Yes my Lord.” Agnes curtsied, bemused by this turn of events.

Guy left without a backward glance, certain that his orders would be carried out. He sat in his favorite chair, staring pensively into the fire as he contemplated his current situation. His time with Vaisey needed to come to an end, for his own state of mind, and soul if he believed in such a thing. It was common knowledge that the populace hated him, but somehow it bothered him to hear it from the lips of the little girl.

It hadn’t always been this way, once he had been a loving son and brother, an eager and hopeful young man. Until the harsh realities of life had shown him the way things really were. Only the strong and merciless survived and thrived. And so he had killed that young man and allowed something dark and unrecognizable to rise in his place.

Something that Marian had hated, and been afraid of. Something everyone was afraid of, even himself.

“My Lord?”

Gisbourne shook off his thoughts to see the cook standing a few feet away.

“What is it?” Agnes had been his nurse as a child, before everything went to shit, though he was the only soul who knew that little fact. She was the only person he respected, and in turn she was loyal to a fault. Even so, she was still very cautious around him and if he’d still had a heart, that might have hurt him.

“I did as you asked, my Lord. The baggage is asleep on a cot in my room.

He nodded.

“A girl, I presume?”

Yes Sir, a half starved one with a mighty mouth on her. She certainly made her opinion about your treatment of her well-known.”

His lips curved, almost into a smile before he tightened them again.

“She’s clean, fed and comfortable. What else did she want from me?” Guy huffed, picking at his gloves.

“She said you were no gentleman to drag a lady like that.” Agnes was amused by the baffled look on the Master’s face.

Several choked sounds escaped from Guy’s lips as he tried to fight back and failed miserably. Tears were in his eyes before he could finally calm himself enough to let the mask slip back down.

“The little brat is lucky I didn’t kill her for trespassing, she should be thankful for what I’ve done.”

Agnes sighed. For a moment she had seen a glimpse of the boy she had so loved, but just as quickly it was gone. Only the angry eyes and stony expression remained in place of it.

“You are right of course, my Lord. may I ask what is to be done with her?”

“I’ll send her off tomorrow and she can resume whatever journey she thinks she is on.”

He waved Agnes away and walked back out to finish with his horse who was quite peeved with him for leaving the saddle on for so long. A sneaky apple and a good brushing changed the animal’s mood dramatically and he relished the attention lavished on him by his master. It was as Guy was closing the wooden door of the stall that he remembered the satchel the child had been carrying. It still lay on the hay where he had dropped it earlier and he decided to take it inside and look through it properly. Again, all he found was the rag doll and the green food. The latter he threw away, the former he examined closely, noting the fine workmanship despite the tears and mends. Someone had loved the doll for a long time. He wondered how it came to be in her possession, maybe she was a thief after all.

Somehow though, he doubted that. His instincts told him the child was harmless, more an annoyance than anything. Taking the doll, Guy walked through the kitchen to Agnes’s room and quietly eased the door open enough to see the sleeping form of the little girl. Fighting his desire to wake her up and interrogate her, he simply leaned in and placed the doll on the pillow beside her head.

“Tomorrow you can go back to where you came from, you little brat.” he hissed into the darkness, pulling the woolen blanket up to cover the girl’s shoulders.

He left the room and stomped upstairs muttering under his breath, never once realizing that Agnes had been awake the whole time, a sly smile on her face.

Sir Guy of Gisbourne was about to meet his match.

#richard armitage #Sir Guy of Gisborne #BBC Robin Hood #richard armitage fanfiction #guy of gisbourne fanfiction #guy of gisbourne

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