Disclaimer: Sadly, Robin Hood is not mine. No money being made here; this is just for fun. :)

Author's Note: Two tragic heroes and how they became tragic; my friend and I each decided to write a back story to the Robin Hood BBC series in order to explain how Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne are who they are in the show. We've split up the scenes for each by character. Scenes with Robin Hood are written by my friend and the scenes of Guy are by me.

The stories span over the five years Robin is fighting in the Holy Land, and Guy's story begins chronologically.


"Robin, don't," Marian giggled, pretending to get out of the circle of his arms. A few villagers next to them shuffled a way a little, but most smiled indulgently. Those that cared or watched knew that Marian and Robin had become a different kind of playmates of late.

"And why not?"

"Because," and she struggled further, then whispered in his ear, "People might think we have been sleeping together."

"But we have been sleeping together," he whispered back. He reached one hand down and pinched her butt. She smacked his hand away and grinned,

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh wouldn't I?"

"These are your people who serve you, who respect you, think you are wise and virtuous"

"If they think I am those things they don't know me very well," Robin interrupted.

"Oh shut up, they're about to make the announcement," Marian scolded, and comfortably leaned back against him as the herald stepped onto the watermill platform, which had always served as Locksley's stage for as long as Robin could remember.

The herald was of the pompous sort, wearing a large plume in his hat. Marian giggled at the look he gave the crowd.

When he didn't speak and began to look more closely Marian nudged Robin, "I think he's looking for you. You'd better get up there."

Robin nodded and quickly made his way through the crowd, being patted on the back by some of his tenants as he passed. By the time he made his way onto the platform, the man had been watching him. The man bowed and then brought out a scroll of parchment.

Robin looked for Marian in the crowd and winked. He approached the herald and bracingly shook his hand.

"You are most welcome to Locksley. And whom do you serve?"

"The King himself Sir Robin, I have been made Sir Bartholomew for my service in the Holy Land. I have been sent bearing proclamations to be read in every shire and city."

"And what news do you bring to us today?"

The knight importantly turned to face the crowd and Robin stepped back to listen, crossing his arms. He had heard rumors; there were always rumors from the Holy Land, and not always much else. He had heard rumors that Richard was conquering with a vengeance and had already converted and subdued hundreds of Saracens.

"By order of His Majesty Richard the Lionhearted, the countrymen of England must now aid and join the Lord's campaign. Every nobleman of rank is to join King Richard in Jerusalem to save his country, as well as all of Christendom. It is not only your duty, but your honor to serve in this manner."

Clearly Sir Bartholomew was used to thunderous applause at this point and faltered at Locksley's silence. Robin froze. Was he supposed to speak at this? Was there no time for him to think?

Luckily Sir Bartholomew continued, "Each knight has been granted time sufficient to set his lands in order, appoint a trustworthy steward and overseer, and ready his troops."

"And what is "time sufficient"?" A loud mocking voice called from the crowd. Robin groaned, of course Marian would have to speak out at this.

The herald faltered under her angered stare and mumbled, "A week."

At this the crowd began to grumble and speak. Robin faltered, watching Marian, whose eyes were now trained on him like a hawk.

"Sir Robin, what is your answer?"

Chivalry and knighthood and honor and duty all came crashing down on him when all he could think of was Marian.

"Of course I will answer King Richard's mighty call," Robin shouted manfully over the din.

He watched as Marian sent him a murderous glare and stormed her way through the crowd, out of the town square.

Sir Bartholomew rushed forward to shake Robin's hand, as the villagers now cheered, feeling only that cheering was necessary, what other reaction was acceptable?

"I have told you, I have no other choice!" Robin shouted, slamming the door behind him as he followed Marian into his bedchamber.

"Oh you have no other choice? What happened to philosopher Robin who is always going on about choices and what men can and can't do and how each man should have a voice?"

Robin smiled ruefully, "He's waiting for you to stop being angry."

"Not likely," Marian smirked, and threw open the lid of Robin's father's old trunk. The trunk that had already made one trip to Jerusalem.

"Marian I don't understand what is wrong with you! This is my duty as a man as an Earl of England!"

"A fine job you do of doing your duty."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He demanded, yanking the clothes she was folding out of her hands and throwing them on the bed, "I won't be taking those," he continued.

"You asked me to marry you yesterday, or do you not remember?"

"What do you think I'm stupid? That I would stay here and marry you and be arrested the week later? Your father the one to arrest me? Be executed for treason?"

"That won't happen, this is England."

"Damn right it will happen. This may be England but we are at war and there will be no mercy towards me."

Marian was silent, and began refolding the things that he had thrown aside,

"You will need this, it does get cold in the desert at night," she murmured.

Robin ran his hand through his hair and stalked over to the window. Marian still remained silent.

"You're silent," he said, "You're never silent. What are you thinking?"

She shook her head sharply and kept her back turned.

He sighed angrily, "Oh Marian, come on, it'll be a year, no more."

"A year without you?" Her voice trembled. "I can't remember one day without you."

"There has been though," he said, a smile in his voice.

"Has there?" She asked calmly, trying to feign the indifference she so prized.

"In fact just a year ago you said you wanted nothing to do with me and didn't speak to me an entire week."

"You sat outside my window every day of that week!" She laughed.

"Ah but you didn't know that then, did you? To you I was gone."

She nodded and wiped at her face.

"That is what this will be like. You will think that I'm gone, but little do you know I will be watching you the whole time."

"That's a lot of sentimental rubbish Robin, as always," Marian said, but she turned to face him, her arms crossed resignedly over her chest.

"And as always doesn't it make you feel better?" Robin walked over to her and nuzzled her neck with his nose.

She wanted to laugh but it was stuck in her throat.

"What if I were to forbid you to go?"

Robin shook his head and took a step back.

"Don't do this Marian."

"What? Tell you something that I want for a change? Not just Robin's dreams?"

"That's not fair. This isn't a choice."

"I know, I know, I know, I know, I know," she sighed.

"You will still wear your ring every day?" He asked, touching the silver band on her left hand he had given her. Supposedly it had been his mother's, he was not sure if he believed it.

"As long as you want me to, I will."

Robin roughly grabbed her up into his arms. She cupped the back of his head with her palm, and stroked his hair like she did when he was sleeping.

"Are you planning to leave at dawn tomorrow?"

"And have you decided to come with me as far as Nottingham, be with your father?"

"No, there is no reason to prolong a goodbye of years by a day or two. And I want to stay here, and sleep in your bed until it stops smelling of you."

Robin nodded and held her closer.

"It's your eighteenth birthday Marian," he whispered.

"I thought you had forgotten in all of this."

"How could I forget after what you did to me last year?"

She laughed, "I was pretty brutal wasn't I?"

"Like always."

"Like always?" She cuffed him on the ear and smiled.

"No, you're gentle as a lamb," he murmured in mock seriousness.

"Honestly Robin, perhaps it will be nice to have a break from you."

"A very short one, I promise," he said sincerely.

"All right then," she agreed, tugging him closer to the bed strewn with clothes still to be packed.

"But you haven't finished packing Marian."

"I thought perhaps you could finish packing in the morning."