Everything Not Forbidden is Compulsory 1/3
Title: Everything Not Forbidden is Compulsory
Type: bandom
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, vague Jon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick
Word Count: ~14000
Time: three weeks
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: I wrote the first part of this fic for no_tags . But the story wasn't done for me yet, apparently! Everything else was written after the challenge was over. For those that didn't participate or read the no_tags fics this year, this is my translation of the Robin Hood mythos into bandom. Title from The Once and Future King. Also, hopefulgenius made me an absolutely beautiful mix for this piece, and I strongly encourage everyone to download and listen to while you're reading. It really does capture a lot of the emotions that I wanted this fic to have. She's also my tireless, amazing beta.
Summary: Ryan is seven when he meets Brendon Urie.
Mix; Masterpost; Part 1; Part 2; Part 3/Epilogue
Ryan is seven when he meets Brendon Urie. Brendon’s father comes to Nottingham Palace to pay respects to Ryan’s guardian, the newly crowned King Pete.
Ryan is a shy kid at the time. Two years earlier, his parents died from consumption, and he had not been adjusting well despite Pete taking him in and raising him like he was his own son.
One morning after breakfast, Pete tells him that he’d like to introduce him to a baron and his youngest son.
Ryan bites his lip and nods. He doesn’t like meeting new people, but he loves Pete almost as much as he used to love his own father, so he complies. He follows Pete into the castle’s throne room, purposefully staying a few steps behind him, just enough to disguise the fact that he’s hiding behind Pete with the idea that he’s showing proper respect to his king.
The first time Ryan sees Brendon, he curiously peeks around Pete's body to see him, and Brendon gives Ryan the biggest, widest grin he’s ever seen.
Maybe that’s why Brendon was different from all the other people Pete had introduced him to during his time at the palace. Brendon had true noble blood, unlike Ryan, but he didn't look down his nose at him. He didn’t sneer or size Ryan up.
Brendon just smiled.
His father reaches out to him and gives Brendon’s shoulder a tight squeeze that makes him wince, before a look of realization crosses his face. The boy bows at the waist to Pete and says, in a small voice that didn’t at all fit the smile from before, “It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty.”
Lord Urie, his mouth is set in a thin line, bows as well, his posture tight and almost angry. “Your majesty, Master Ryan.”
Pete waves his hand. “Please, we’re the only ones present. There’s really no need for useless formalities. But I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Urie. And, Brendon,” Ryan could swear he could see Pete’s eyes glimmer at this, “the pleasure is all mine.”
Brendon looks surprised, glances quickly up to his father, then back to Pete and finally at Ryan. He bites his lip, his face torn with indecision. Then, he takes a deep breath, steps forward and extends his hand to Ryan. “Hello, I’m Brendon.” The smile is back, full force, blinding.
Ryan hesitates for a moment before taking the offered hand, smiling faintly himself. “I’m Ryan.”
“Ryan,” Pete says, “why don’t you take Brendon out to the gardens? I’m sure he’d love it out there.”
Ryan nods, and Brendon’s smile, it goes impossibly wider. “Okay. Come on, Brendon.”
Brendon never lets go of Ryan’s hand after their handshake, and he keeps holding it as Ryan leads him to the garden.
“Oh!” Brendon says as Ryan pushes open the doors leading outside. “Ryan, it’s beautiful!”
Ryan nods, staying quiet. He loves the gardens himself. It’s summer, and everything is in bloom, giant sunflowers facing the sun, big red roses popping up by the hundreds, pink carnations, forget-me-nots and lilacs scattered everywhere. He could spend hours here. But he doesn’t say any of that; most people think that things like flowers are for girls, and Brendon is probably just being nice.
Brendon’s smile fades slightly. “You don’t mind me just calling you Ryan, do you? I can call you a title, if you want, um, Master Ryan.”
Ryan blinks, surprised. “You don’t have to call me anything. Why would you think that?”
Brendon shrugs. “You didn’t talk much, that’s all. I thought maybe you were mad. A lot of people really care about that sort of thing.”
“Pete doesn’t,” Ryan points out, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.
“My father does. Anyway, come on.” Brendon tugs on Ryan’s hand. “Show me the flowers?”
Ryan smiles then, really smiles. It might be his first real smile since his parents died. “Sure. Come on; the roses are my favorite.”
They stay in the garden for the rest of the afternoon, sword-fighting with sticks, chasing birds and one frog Brendon found by the lake, playing explorers in the sunflowers.
As the sun begins to set, they splay out on the ground, looking up at the sky and picking out shapes in the clouds. Brendon points out a fire-breathing dragon with a mermaid on his head, which Ryan can’t help but laugh at.
“You know what?” Brendon asks suddenly. “My favorite flower is grass.”
Ryan wrinkles his nose. He’s become incredibly comfortable with Brendon, just in this one afternoon. Brendon’s personality is irresistible, even for a loner like Ryan. He just feels different with Brendon than with anyone else he’s ever known, more at ease and able to express himself. “But grass is boring. And I don’t think it’s a flower, either.”
Brendon sits up on one of his elbows, smiling. “But that’s the thing! It is! Or, it has some flowers, anyway.” He buries his hand in the grass beside him and comes up with a tiny white flower. “See? This is grass. It’s just that no one ever notices it because it’s so small. That’s not the only thing, though. I really like how green grass can be. It’s the best color green in the world, I think.”
Ryan stares at the flower contemplatively for a moment, then looks up at Brendon. The setting sun is casting a golden glow over the boy, haloing in his dark hair and highlighting his lightly pinked cheeks. Ryan didn’t notice before, but Brendon has a soft dusting of freckles right across his nose.
Ryan feels his face heat up, and he quickly averts his gaze. “I- It’s a really nice green, yeah.”
“Master Ryan, Brendon!” They both look up to see a servant, Victoria, at the garden’s doors. “His majesty says that it’s almost dark and requests that you two come to dinner!”
Ryan clumsily scrambles to stand, but Brendon just holds up his hand for help. Ryan, redder than ever, pulls him to his feet.
“Thanks,” Brendon says, brushing his pants off. “We got grass all over us! Do you think King Pete will mind?”
“No, but your father might.” At the instant look of panic on Brendon’s face, Ryan quickly adds, “I’m sure I have something in my chambers that could fit you, if you’d like to change really fast.”
Brendon absolutely beams at him. “Really? Thank you, Ryan.”
“Master Ryan!”
“We’re coming, Victoria,” Ryan calls back. “Please tell Pete that we’ll be there in ten minutes. We need to clean up a little.”
She nods, disappearing back into the castle.
“Let’s go get you changed,” Ryan says. Brendon nods and takes Ryan’s hand.
***
At dinner, Pete announces that Brendon’s father has graciously stated that he would allow Brendon to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. The grin on Pete’s face suggests that the baron is not the one that proposed this idea.
Brendon can barely contain his obvious excitement, bouncing in his seat for the rest of the meal.
Ryan fears that he’ll never stop blushing, but he can’t help but smile anyway.
***
Brendon spends every summer with Ryan after that, and the two boys can’t seem to spend enough time together. They’re always busy getting into something. Ryan teaches Brendon how to ride a horse and shoot an arrow. Brendon teaches Ryan how to play checkers and swim in the lake.
Together, they grow to be favorite guests to the villagers of Nottingham. As they grow older, they brave Sherwood Forest, climbing the huge oak trees there and intentionally losing themselves amongst all the greenery until they know much of the forest like the backs of their own hands.
From autumn to summer, Ryan misses Brendon with a desperation that grows worse every year until he realizes the truth. He’s in love. He doesn’t say anything, though, keeps his mouth shut because he doesn’t want to lose what he and Brendon have together and because, at least until he’s been officially announced as Pete’s heir presumptive, he’s got neither title nor noble birth to offer Brendon. So, he forces himself to be content with their friendship. He still becomes depressed when Brendon is away, but he soothes himself with the knowledge that Brendon will be back next year.
Until the year that Ryan turns seventeen, when he gets a short message from Brendon stating that Lord Urie’s land has fallen under attack and that he will not be returning to the castle.
Ryan locks himself in his room for several days after receiving the letter, barely eating and refusing to see anyone, even Pete. He just lies in his bed and tries to recall their last summer together.
They had discovered a huge oak tree in Sherwood Forest with branches so wide that they had been able to picnic on them. They had planned to build some sort of house on that tree and run away there one day so that they didn’t have to worry about the pains and expectations of being noble.
Ryan remembers a moment when he stumbled on a branch and accidentally pushed Brendon against the tree’s trunk. They’d only been an inch away from each other, and it would have been so easy, would have felt so natural and right, to just lean in and kiss him. But he hadn’t.
And now, Ryan thinks, I might regret it for the rest of my life.
That was the last summer Ryan saw Brendon.
***
In the years to come, Pete would be caught up in a war of his own, reluctantly leaving his peaceful life in Nottingham to help fight with those who couldn’t fight for themselves. William, Pete’s closest advisor, is left in charge while he’s away.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Ryan,” Pete assured him, with eyes much more worn and telling than they should have been. “It’s that I know what this life does to people, and I don’t want it to ruin you, not when you’re so smart and have so much potential. You’re the best archer I’ve ever seen, I think.”
Ryan had simply nodded and wished Pete a safe and short journey.
***
When Pete told William his decision to leave him in charge, William vowed to do everything he could to assist Pete in his war effort despite being left in Nottingham.
Unfortunately, William’s idea of helping was to raise the taxes of the citizens in Pete’s realm to heights no one had seen before.
Ryan tries to ignore it at first, chalking it up to a mixture of need for the war and a couple of bad decisions on William’s part, but when Ryan begins to notice how many people are starting to clamber at the palace gates, begging for bread to feed their families, he can’t stay silent.
“I’m protecting them,” William insists, mouth set in a firm line.
“You’re killing them!” Ryan yells, gritting his teeth.
William gives him a long, hard stare. “And when King Pete doesn’t have enough funding for the war and the land gets taken by barbarians, we’ll all die.”
Ryan scowls. “Pete would never have starved his people to keep the land. He would rather have hanged himself, first. The people won’t stand for this forever. I think you’re letting greed blind you to that fact, William.”
William looks down at the book on his desk, eyes skimming the numbers that he’s been crunching for the past hour. “Ryan,” he finally says, “until Pete declares you king, it doesn’t matter what you think.”
Hurt and angry, Ryan fists his hands so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. He wants to punch William in the mouth, shake him, scream, do something, anything to make him see that what he’s doing is wrong.
But he knows that what William said is correct. No matter what Ryan says or does, it won’t matter to William or the lords and guards that William controls.
So, instead of resorting to violence, he storms out of the study and heads for his room, already hatching a plan.
It’s the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do, but Ryan is leaving the safety and security of Pete’s kingdom. He’s going to help the people who can’t help themselves, or he’ll die trying.
This is the last day that he lives in Nottingham Palace.
***
It took about a month after Ryan began living in Sherwood Forest before he starts to steal from the rich to aid the common people. The wanted posters spring up almost instantly, like William was just waiting for him to make that first move. In the beginning, the posters state that he should be captured but unharmed, and that there would be a small reward for his arrest.
The reward slowly grows as Ryan’s escapades increased in frequency and daring, until finally, the text above his picture reads “WANTED: Dead or Alive” with a hefty reward that would make anyone willing to turn him in a very wealthy person.
But the people never go against him. Ryan sometimes wonders if it’ll ever happen, if someday one of the widows in the town will look at their starving children and be forced to trap him. But any time he gives someone a small satchel of gold to tide them through a particularly rough period, the look of complete gratitude on that person’s face tells Ryan that it will never happen.
And even if it does, everything will have been worth it anyway.
***
One day, Ryan meets Spencer.
Spencer walks into the woods, determined to find Ryan, and he does. He demands that he be allowed to join Ryan in helping the village people.
Ryan tries to tell Spencer that he’s too young, but Spencer won’t leave, and that’s that.
Others come eventually, too, Jon, the Alexes, Travis, Cash and several more. They all come into the woods with the intent of finding Ryan, and Ryan always tells them to go home because this isn’t the life most people want to live. They never leave though and laughingly call themselves Ryan’s Merry Men. Ryan has habitually worn green since leaving the palace, mostly for camouflage amongst the trees, and all of the boys voluntarily clothe themselves in green to match their “leader”.
Ryan can never tell if their joining him will be a good thing or a bad thing, in the end. Having the others means that he has more resources at his disposal, more options when it comes to stealing from William (Prince William, as the people of Nottingham have mockingly begun to call him). His plans become more elaborate, and he learns new tricks, how to use a grappling hook to scale walls from Spencer, how to cook from Jon, how to sew costumes from Alex Marshall. In return, he teaches them the only skill he’s really mastered, how to use a bow and arrow, though none of them ever get quite as good as he is.
On the other hand, having more people means the possibility that someone will betray them or get caught.
But, Ryan figures, it’s really only going to be a matter of time before someone gets caught, anyway. In the meantime, he might as well learn how to make a mean beef stew and help a couple dozen more families than he’d ever be able to on his own.
At least the forest isn’t quite as lonely anymore.
***
Living in Sherwood Forest has several benefits. The thick foliage makes it really hard for anyone to ride on horseback through the trees, meaning that most searches stop after about a hundred feet past the tree line. If searches do go further in, there are plenty of places to hide, and there are endless opportunities when it comes to making booby traps. Since there are no neighbors, the men can be as loud as they want to be without worrying about being caught.
But life in the forest also has its drawbacks, the main one being that they are often cut off from current events.
Ryan tries to keep up with everything by disguising himself and going to the Blue Boar Inn, a pub run by an old friend of his, Frank. Gerard, Frank’s longtime boyfriend and a permanent fixture on the pub’s bar despite the fact that he hasn’t had a drink in ten years, is basically a gossip. He probably doesn’t mean to be. He usually peppers their conversations with, “not that I would ever say anything behind his back or anything,” and, “you know I love her, I really do, but…”
Still, Ryan likes Gerard a lot, and he’s probably their most valuable source of information.
Today, Ryan takes on the persona of a carpenter travelling for work, and Spencer, who has become Ryan’s right hand man, tags along as his supposed business partner.
When they walk into the pub, Ryan can tell that Frank instantly recognizes them, though almost no one else is ever able to. “Hey,” he greets. “What will you guys have?”
“Ale,” Ryan answers with a smile, his accent heavy and northern. They always get ale.
“Coming right up. Why don’t you guys have a seat?” He jerks his head toward the corner.
They thank him then slide into chairs across from Gerard, smiling. “Mind if we sit here?” Spencer asks.
Gerard smiles with recognition. “I guess there’s enough room for all of us. Go ahead.”
Spread in front of Gerard are pieces of paper with hundreds of sketches on them. He’s a really talented artist. Ryan always thinks that it’s a shame that he’ll probably never have enough money to get real supplies for his work.
Ryan drops his voice below the hum of the pub’s other occupants. “How’s everything been, Gee?”
Gerard’s smile turns mischievously. “I have some news for you that’s going to drive you wild, Ryan.”
Ryan arches an eyebrow. “Well?”
Gerard gathers his bits of paper into a stack, purposefully drawing out the tension. “Prince William is hosting an archery contest tomorrow.”
Ryan’s eyes light up at that, and Spencer smiles at him. “You’d have that one in the bag, Ryan.”
Ryan bows his head graciously. “Thank you, Spencer, but I’m pretty sure I’m not invited.”
Gerard laughs. “Well, it’s technically an open invitation, but the tournament isn’t the real surprise.”
Gerard pauses again. It’s then that Frank walks up, handing them their drinks. Upon seeing Ryan and Spencer’s expectant faces, he rolls his eyes. “Gerard, just tell them.”
He puts up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. You’d better be glad you’re sitting down, Ryan, because you’ll need to be after this.” He grins. “Brendon will be there.”
Ryan chokes on his ale and descends into a coughing fit. Spencer pats his back as Ryan sputters, “What? Brendon?”
Gerard nods. “That’s right. The tournament is Brendon’s official welcome back to Nottingham. He’ll be staying for a while. Apparently, he’s come to be tutored in the palace.”
Spencer laughs. “Oh, wow. Ryan was just talking about Brendon the other night. He burned our dinner while he daydreamed about those big brown eyes and those cute little freckles.”
Ryan doesn’t know how the guys originally found out about his feelings for Brendon, but they’ve been hounding him about it for months now. Ryan can feel his ears turn red, and he shoves Spencer. “Shut up, Spencer, or I’ll tell Gerard about your recent tryst with one Jon Walker.”
Gerard is instantly alert, leaning forward. “Really? Congratulations, Spencer.”
Spencer flushes and shoves Ryan back. “You see what you’ve done? Now the whole village is going to know.”
Gerard looks genuinely hurt. “Come on now. Who’s going to tell?”
Frank laughs and drops an affectionate kiss to the top of Gerard’s head. “Gee, you are many things, but quiet is not one of them.”
Gerard pouts, crossing his arms. “Fine then. I won’t say anything anymore.”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Gerard,” Spencer says. He pulls a roll of paper from his belt and holds it out to him. “Besides, we brought you a present.”
Gerard beams, taking his gift. “Thanks, guys. You’re awesome.”
“And you,” Ryan says, holding out a small parchment bag to Frank. “Payment for the ale, plus a tip for the company and the use of your significant other.”
Frank takes the bag, his face solemn. He usually puts up a fight about taking money that someone else could use. He and Gerard must be really hurting this month.
Almost as if he’s reading Ryan’s mind, Gerard says, “That asshole Prince William raised taxes on businesses.”
Ryan grits his teeth, and Spencer’s hands fist. “Lovely.”
“Anyway,” Frank says, turning the subject from himself, “you should really consider taking part in the tournament. There will be a cash reward, and I know that Greta has been having a hard time with the orphanage lately. The fucker of a sheriff gave her notice that, according to some bullshit law, the orphanage counts as a business, apparently. Anyway, they could really use the help.”
Ryan’s expression darkens significantly. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Frank, Gerard,” he stands up, raising his voice again so that everyone can hear and adopting a northern accent, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you gents, a real pleasure.”
Frank shakes his hand. “Come back any time.”
And with that, Ryan and Spencer take their leave. As soon as they get out of the pub’s sight, Ryan punches the nearest tree as hard as he can. A sharp pain instantly shoots through his hand, but he doesn’t care. He hits the tree again, grinding out, “That bastard.”
“Hey, hey,” Spencer says, grabbing Ryan’s hand. “You’ll need that particular appendage tomorrow.”
Ryan sighs. “I know. Just. Shit, Spencer.” He runs his hand tiredly through his hair. “It’s never going to be over.”
Spencer places a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You can’t say that, Ryan. One day, King Pete will come home, and all of this will be over. He’d never let any of this happen if he had any idea. You just have to have hope.”
Ryan bites his tongue to keep himself from saying that there isn’t any hope left to have. Instead, he offers Spencer a weak smile. “Let’s get back to the forest. I need to rest up before I win that big tournament tomorrow.”
Spencer smiles. “That’s the spirit.”
***
Today Ryan is dressed as a beggar, adorning himself in a patchwork coat, a floppy, half-useless hat and this morning’s stubble.
“Do you think that they’ll recognize us?” Dallon asks, pulling a shirt that makes him look like a noble over his head.
Everyone stops in their various states of undress to look at him in amusement. Dallon is the newest member of their group, joining after he’d no longer been able to support his family with such heavy taxes on his shoulders, and the new ones are always skittish their first time out.
“Ryan and Marshall came up with our costumes, Dallon,” Jon says, smudging some dirt on his own face. “As long as you don’t go around saying that your name is Dallon and you are one of Ryan’s Merry Men, no, they won’t recognize us.”
“Don’t worry, Dallon.” Ryan tests his bow, pulling an arrow taught against the string, then relaxing it. He pulls it taught again, and with seemingly no time to aim, he looses it in Dallon’s direction. Dallon doesn’t have time to move, and the arrow pierces through the top of his hat, burying itself in a tree behind him. Dallon stares at him, stunned, and Ryan laughs. “This will be my greatest performance.”
***
His men enters the festival grounds one by one to keep from looking like they’ve ever met each other, and Ryan chooses to wait until just before the sign-ups for the contest end before he shows his face.
“Name?” the guard in charge asks without even looking at his face as Ryan walks up.
“Ryland.”
The guard looks at Ryan’s face then, eyes blinking with surprise. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Ryan throws his voice into a distinctly southern dialect. “My name is Ryland of Devonshire.”
“Oh, we share a name, then.” The guard’s eyes squint, like he’s trying to see into Ryan’s soul but just can’t manage. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before writing on his piece of paper. “My apologies, Ryland. Please head toward the targets. The contest will be starting soon.”
Ryan nods, turning around and rolling his eyes. Ryland was always a little bit slow in some points, and though this had worked to Ryan’s advantage, it still grates on his nerves.
As he approaches the targets, Spencer approaches him from the side, extending his hand in greeting. “James of Wentbridge.”
Ryan smiles pleasantly, giving Spencer’s hand a sound shake. “Ryland of Devonshire. Pleased to meet you.”
“Looks like a great day for me to win a tournament, don’t you think?” Spencer asks cockily. “Are you competing?”
“I’ve got my bow and arrows, don’t I? And I beg to differ about who will be winning all that prize money.” They both laugh. Business as usual. One competitor bantering with another.
Spencer lowers his voice then, dropping his assumed character. “Have you seen him yet?”
Ryan raises his chin defiantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Spencer gives him a skeptical look. “Well, then I guess you won’t care about looking toward your right.”
Ryan stares at him for a moment, trying to appear unfazed, then, “Damn it, Spencer.” He tries to ignore the smug look on Spencer’s face when he can’t stop himself from looking.
And his heart immediately leaps into his throat.
After almost ten years of aching to see him again, Brendon is maybe twenty feet away, smiling at something that one of the guards, Siska if Ryan remembers correctly, is saying to him. The sun is haloing in his hair and highlighting his cheeks. He’s different in some ways, of course, a little taller, his shoulders more rounded, and his hair is a little longer, softly curling around his ears.
But he’s still so obviously Brendon.
Ryan’s immediate reaction is to go to him, but Spencer grabs his arm. “Ryan,” he reminds him, “you can’t just approach him when you’re dressed like this. He won’t recognize you.”
It’s then that Brendon chooses to look at Ryan, right at him, like he knew what they had been saying somehow. Their gazes meet, and Ryan can’t breathe. “Yes, he does,” Ryan says, voice almost a whisper.
Brendon breaks their connection first, obviously giving some quick excuse to Siska before heading toward Ryan and Spencer.
Ryan is just grateful that he has enough sense left to bow as Brendon finally makes it to them. No matter what, he can’t let the guards realize who he is. “Brendon, sir, welcome back to Nottingham.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be back,” Brendon replies, smiling full force. “Will you be competing in the tournament, um..?”
“Ryland, sir,” Ryan finishes for him. “And yes, I will be.”
Spencer gives a sharp tug on Ryan’s arm, and Ryan starts to turn and frown at him, but he realizes what Spencer was trying to warn him of. Gabe approaches them quickly and steps right into the middle of their conversation.
“Hello again, Brendon,” Gabe says, smiling at him. Gabe is lucky that Ryan is supposed to be in disguise. In any other situation, Ryan would have punched him in the mouth for omitting any sort of polite address to his brash greeting toward Brendon.
Brendon shifts uncomfortably. “Hello, sheriff. Good to see you again.”
“And lovely to see you,” he responds, obviously oblivious to Ryan setting his jaw. Gabe turns to them and offers a smug smile to him, “Hello, boys. Come to compete in the tournament?”
Before Ryan can open his mouth and end up saying something he definitely shouldn’t, Spencer says, “We are, sir.”
Brendon bites his lip. “Sheriff Gabe is competing, too, you know.”
Ryan smirks, arching a brow. “Is he now?” He grabs Gabe’s hand and shakes it firmly, slightly startling the sheriff. “Well, sir, that’d be a real honor, a real treat to go against such a formidable opponent as yourself.”
Gabe takes a step back as soon as Ryan releases him. “Thanks, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get ready. It’s about to start. Brendon, I’d be glad to escort you to your seat.”
Brendon smiles blandly at Gabe. “Of course.” He looks at Ryan again, reaching out and touching the sleeve of his cloak. “Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you.”
And they’re gone.
“So that was Brendon, huh? Wow,” Spencer says, amusement lacing his voice, “at least your feelings are mutual. Why don’t you just confess to him or something?”
Ryan shakes his head, not even allowing his heart to skip that beat it so badly wants to skip. “Brendon has real noble blood. Even when I lived in the castle, I wasn’t in a high enough class for him to ever consider me as anything more than a friend. Now I’m an outlaw. I can’t ask him to give up his entire life to be with me.”
Spencer’s expression softens with sympathy, and he reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Ryan-”
“All competitors in the archery tournament, please report to the field!” Ryland calls out, finally having left his post at the sign up table.
“Come on,” Ryan says. “We need to get that money for the orphanage.”
Spencer purses his lips and nods.
***
They’re playing dirty. Ryan doesn’t know why he’s surprised by this, but he is.
Before the games began, all of the players’ equipment was confiscated and replaced with the guards’ standard issue bows and arrows. Ryland had explained to everyone that this was to keep everyone even, making this a game about skill rather than equipment.
All it’s really going to do is give Gabe an unfair advantage. Everyone is used to their own equipment, no matter the state that it’s in. Now, someone whose own bow was strung tighter than the guards’ bow would overshoot. Someone who unknowingly creates slightly bent arrows will overcompensate and possibly miss the target completely.
Some of the townspeople look delighted at being able to use better equipment than they’re used to. Nothing makes Ryan madder than seeing someone being taken advantage of without them even realizing it.
But he keeps his trap shut and watches competitor after competitor miss the target. Jon and Dallon, who are also competing, are having trouble hitting the target at all. Even Spencer, one of the most competent people Ryan has ever taught to use a bow, has incredible difficulty in hitting the bullseye.
Ryan is just grateful that these were the bows and arrows that he cut his teeth on. The second he receives his equipment, he examines the arrows for straightness and pulls the string back to get a feel for the new resistance. He can’t help but feel a little proud that the quality of his own bow is better than this one could ever hope to be.
The look on Gabe’s face as the first round draws closer to the end is one of complete satisfaction.
It’s Ryan’s turn, and he takes his place, toeing at the line the archers are supposed to stay behind. He notches his arrow and pulls it tight, rounding his shoulders into a straight line. He takes aim, and lets the arrow fly.
It hits dead center.
The crowd roars, finally seeing someone they can cheer for.
Gabe seems bewildered. It’s his turn, and when he releases his own arrow, it hits in the second ring.
It’s only the first round, but almost everyone has already been pared off. Ryland calls for the target to be moved back, and the second round begins.
“Great form, Sheriff Gabe. The way your shoulders are so perfectly aligned, sir, it’s astounding,” Ryan says, smiling. He’s mocking him, of course. Gabe’s stance his completely off. But Gabe doesn’t know that. “That outlaw, Ryan, he better be glad he didn’t show up today. He’d be jealous of how easy you make it look.”
Gabe makes a face like he just ate something sour. “That coward should be jealous. He can’t hold a candle to my natural talent.”
“Of course not.” Ryan sights down his arrow for the second round. He makes a second perfect bullseye.
From the royal seating, Ryan distinctly hears Brendon cheering for him. Ryan glances over his shoulder at him, and Brendon waves. Ryan can’t help but offer a little wave back.
He sees William lean toward Brendon, saying something to him that makes Brendon look down, smiling. Ryan will never be able to look at Brendon smiling and not feel a little weak in the knees.
“Distracted, Ryland?” Spencer’s voice mumbles in his ear.
Ryan snorts. “Having some problems with your shooting, James?”
Spencer scowls. “This damned game is rigged. They might as well have asked us to throw the arrows at the targets with our bare hands with as much good as these bows do us.”
Ryan nods. He knows. “Just do your best.”
“Hey, would you two hens stop clucking and get back into the game?” Gabe snaps, indicating that it is Spencer’s turn.
Jon and Dallon are both out this round, and Spencer is out the next.
And then it’s just Gabe and Ryan.
“I can’t believe I get to compete one on one with you, Sheriff Gabe.” Ryan is going to make himself sick if he keeps this act up, seriously.
“I can’t believe it either,” Gabe mutters, notching his arrow and slowly, very slowly, taking aim.
Ryan studies Gabe’s stance, the tip of the arrow, and the distance of the target. He’s surprised to realize that Gabe will actually make it into the center this time.
When Gabe releases the arrow, Ryan’s exact placement of it is off by less than half an inch. Gabe’s arrow has made it into the center circle.
“Ha!” Gabe laughs. “Can’t get much better than that.”
Ryan nods. “Good job.” He sets his jaw and pulls his arrow tight. If Ryan doesn’t make it dead center, just the slightest bit to the left of Gabe’s arrow, he’ll lose.
He takes a deep breath, chooses his exact targeted area, and adjusts his bow accordingly.
Ryan exhales and lets the arrow go. It grazes so close to Gabe’s arrow that a couple of feathers are sheared off, floating to the ground.
Everything is quiet for a moment, and then the crowd goes wild.
Ryan has won.
He looks to Brendon who is grinning like crazy. Ryan returns his smile and heads toward the royal chairs to claim his prize from William.
As he approaches, Ryland runs ahead and whispers something in William’s ear that makes him regard Ryan thoughtfully.
Once he is in front of William, Ryan bows deeply. “Your majesty.”
“Congratulations, Ryland of Devonshire,” William says. “You’ve performed remarkably well.”
“Thank you, sire. It was an honor to compete in celebration of Brendon’s return.” He glances up at Brendon, who looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin with contained excitement.
William arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I’m sure. Well then, it’s my honor to pronounce you the winner, Ryland of Devonshire. Or would you prefer Ryan of Sherwood?”
Surprise surges through Ryan, prickling at his skin, and he’s about to bolt, but the guards are too fast. They grab his arms and force him to the ground, tying his hands with rope. A hand fists in his hair and painfully yanks him back to his feet.
Brendon’s eyes are incredibly wide, horrified, and he’s leapt up from his chair only to be blocked from getting to Ryan by guards that surround him from all sides.
William’s face is completely blank, like he wasn’t one of the people who helped raise him since he was five. For the first time, Pete’s warning about the life of a king ruining people really makes sense. “Ryan, you have been charged with treason to the crown.”
Ryan sneers. “I’ve never been anything but loyal to Pete’s crown. You’re the one committing treason, Prince William. Those who desire power should never possess it.”
“It appears that you’ve forgotten our parting words, Ryan.” William frowns and looks at Gabe, who has Ryan’s right arm clamped in his hand. “The penalty for treason is death. Kill him, Gabe.”
“No! William, don’t do this,” Brendon pleads. “You can’t realize what you’ll be doing.”
William doesn’t even bother to look at Brendon. “On the contrary, I know exactly what I’ll be doing.”
Three arrows imbed themselves in the wooden post just behind William, right above his head. “So do we,” Spencer’s voice calls, though he’s nowhere to be seen. “And we suggest you hop to it with getting Ryan untied before you have a few extra holes in that pretty head of yours.”
There’s a moment of pause before another arrow thumps just that much closer to William’s head. “We’re waiting, Prince William.”
William looks down at Ryan with more disdain than could possibly be put into words. “Let him go.”
Gabe nods and unsheathes a dagger at his waist, easily slicing through the ropes. At the last moment, he twists the dagger so that its blade bites into Ryan’s arm.
Ryan hisses involuntarily, and Brendon shoves a guard away from him as hard as he can, running to Ryan and throwing his arms around him. “Holy shit, Ryan,” Brendon mutters into his neck.
William’s mouth opens, and one last arrow pierces through the sky, landing at William’s feet. “Not a word, William,” Spencer’s voice warns.
Jon appears from behind a booth advertising Nottingham’s best blueberry pies, his bow already tight with an arrow. “Come on, lovebirds. Time to go.”
Ryan takes Brendon’s hand in his and lifts his wounded arm, tilting his hat with the hand of that arm. “Until next time, prince.”
With Jon and, eventually, the rest of his men watching their backs, Ryan leads Brendon into Sherwood Forest.
***
“Oh,” Brendon says when he sees the home that Ryan has created, “Ryan, it’s our oak tree!”
Ryan smiles, a little bashful. “When I first left, this was the only place I could think of to go. It’s served us pretty well so far.”
“I can’t believe you actually built a house into it.” Brendon looks delighted. “It’s like a fairytale.”
“More like a desperate attempt at normalcy,” Spencer says behind them. “My real name is Spencer, by the way. It’s nice to finally meet the subject of Ryan’s affections.”
Brendon turns to him, smiling. “That was your voice before. Thank you for saving Ryan.”
Spencer shrugs. “Where would we be without our fearless leader?”
“Ha ha, very funny, Spencer,” Ryan says, unamused. “I just wish we’d gotten that reward for Greta.”
“Who says we didn’t?” Marshall asks, dropping a leather satchel from his back and opening it up. Gold shines up at Ryan’s surprised face. “What did you think everyone else was busy doing while you were valiantly earning your prize?”
Ryan shakes his head in disbelief, smiling. “I’ve turned you all into a pack of little thieves. Meanwhile, someone tell me that we have a clean rag around here somewhere. I really need to clean this up.” He gestures toward his arm.
“Jesus, Ryan,” Brendon gasps, turning Ryan’s so that his forearm is facing up. There’s drying blood caked from his elbow to his palm. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s not,” Ryan reassures him. “I promise. I’ve just been moving it around a lot. It’s barely past the surface.”
“Here you go, Ryan.” Dallon offers Ryan a dampened handkerchief.
Ryan gratefully takes it, but Brendon quickly snaps it up before Ryan can put it to his arm.
“No, let me,” he insists. “Just tell me if it hurts too badly, okay?”
“Trust me, I’ve had worse.” Ryan doesn’t go into detail. Brendon doesn’t have to know that the scar on Ryan’s shoulder is from an arrow one of the guards caught him with or that he’s had to stitch himself up before.
“Hey, uh, guys,” Jon addresses the others, “let’s get this gold to Greta, okay? I’m sure she could use it as soon as possible.”
The others nod, understanding, and they leave Ryan and Brendon alone in the clearing.
Brendon has Ryan sit on a tree stump, and he kneels beside him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he repeats, then presses the cloth to the cut.
Ryan stays perfectly still, silently watching Brendon clean off the blood. He notices that some blood accidentally rubbed onto Brendon’s jacket, staining it. “Sorry.”
“Hm?” Brendon looks at his sleeve. “Oh, no. Ryan, it’s no big deal. I’ve been through a war, remember? I’ve had blood on my clothes before.”
That’s right. Ryan had forgotten. Brendon has seen his own fair share of ugliness now. He’s not the innocent child he was the last time Ryan saw him.
“All the more reason not to ruin the rest of them,” Ryan jokes lightly.
Brendon hums neutrally. “I feel like we’re kids playing in the woods again, except that you’d be the one cleaning up my cuts instead of me cleaning yours.” There’s a slight pause before Brendon adds, “I missed you, Ryan.”
“I missed you, too.”
Brendon ties the handkerchief around the actual cut, smoothing his fingers over it gently. He looks up at Ryan, and his face is older than Ryan remembers, paler, without sun-kissed freckles, but his eyes are the same.
He tilts his head up and pushes himself up onto his knees, mumbles a quiet, “Ryan,” and their mouths connect, and they’re kissing.
Brendon’s fingers find their way into Ryan’s hair, and Ryan’s hands move to Brendon’s hips, thumbs sliding across the thin sliver of skin exposed between his pants and his jacket.
Brendon readjusts, situating himself between Ryan’s legs, and when Ryan’s tongue flits across his bottom lip, he makes a soft, needy sound that goes straight to Ryan’s dick before opening up to him.
But it’s bad. It’s bad, it’s bad, it’s bad. Ryan drops his hands and says, “Stop.”
Brendon doesn’t hear him, or acts like he doesn’t, and presses himself that much harder against Ryan.
Ryan gently pushes him away. “Brendon, stop.”
“What?” Brendon’s face passes through confusion, irritation and hurt.
Ryan hates himself so much more than he ever thought he could. “We can’t."
“But. Why?”
“I’m in love with someone else.” It’s the first thing Ryan could think of, and, in his desperation, the words tumble out before he can stop them.
Brendon jerks away from him then, standing quickly, staring in utter disbelief. “You. Are you serious? With who?”
Ryan looks down and miserably says, “Spencer.”
He more feels rather than sees the retribution coming, but he still doesn’t expect Brendon to punch him so hard that he ends up flat on his back, hand covering his bleeding lip.
Brendon stares down at him, eyes bright and hands fisting. “I did everything I could to get back here to you so I… so we… and you just...” His voice falters. “I hate you, Ryan.”
And with that, Brendon turns on his heel, disappearing into the shadows of the woods.
Ryan stays on his back, staring up at the canopy of leaves above him, holding his swollen lip. It’s for the best, he thinks. He closes his eyes and tries not to care that his heart is totally, completely broken.
Part 2
Type: bandom
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon, vague Jon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick
Word Count: ~14000
Time: three weeks
Rating: NC-17
Author's Note: I wrote the first part of this fic for no_tags . But the story wasn't done for me yet, apparently! Everything else was written after the challenge was over. For those that didn't participate or read the no_tags fics this year, this is my translation of the Robin Hood mythos into bandom. Title from The Once and Future King. Also, hopefulgenius made me an absolutely beautiful mix for this piece, and I strongly encourage everyone to download and listen to while you're reading. It really does capture a lot of the emotions that I wanted this fic to have. She's also my tireless, amazing beta.
Summary: Ryan is seven when he meets Brendon Urie.
Mix; Masterpost; Part 1; Part 2; Part 3/Epilogue
Ryan is seven when he meets Brendon Urie. Brendon’s father comes to Nottingham Palace to pay respects to Ryan’s guardian, the newly crowned King Pete.
Ryan is a shy kid at the time. Two years earlier, his parents died from consumption, and he had not been adjusting well despite Pete taking him in and raising him like he was his own son.
One morning after breakfast, Pete tells him that he’d like to introduce him to a baron and his youngest son.
Ryan bites his lip and nods. He doesn’t like meeting new people, but he loves Pete almost as much as he used to love his own father, so he complies. He follows Pete into the castle’s throne room, purposefully staying a few steps behind him, just enough to disguise the fact that he’s hiding behind Pete with the idea that he’s showing proper respect to his king.
The first time Ryan sees Brendon, he curiously peeks around Pete's body to see him, and Brendon gives Ryan the biggest, widest grin he’s ever seen.
Maybe that’s why Brendon was different from all the other people Pete had introduced him to during his time at the palace. Brendon had true noble blood, unlike Ryan, but he didn't look down his nose at him. He didn’t sneer or size Ryan up.
Brendon just smiled.
His father reaches out to him and gives Brendon’s shoulder a tight squeeze that makes him wince, before a look of realization crosses his face. The boy bows at the waist to Pete and says, in a small voice that didn’t at all fit the smile from before, “It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty.”
Lord Urie, his mouth is set in a thin line, bows as well, his posture tight and almost angry. “Your majesty, Master Ryan.”
Pete waves his hand. “Please, we’re the only ones present. There’s really no need for useless formalities. But I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Urie. And, Brendon,” Ryan could swear he could see Pete’s eyes glimmer at this, “the pleasure is all mine.”
Brendon looks surprised, glances quickly up to his father, then back to Pete and finally at Ryan. He bites his lip, his face torn with indecision. Then, he takes a deep breath, steps forward and extends his hand to Ryan. “Hello, I’m Brendon.” The smile is back, full force, blinding.
Ryan hesitates for a moment before taking the offered hand, smiling faintly himself. “I’m Ryan.”
“Ryan,” Pete says, “why don’t you take Brendon out to the gardens? I’m sure he’d love it out there.”
Ryan nods, and Brendon’s smile, it goes impossibly wider. “Okay. Come on, Brendon.”
Brendon never lets go of Ryan’s hand after their handshake, and he keeps holding it as Ryan leads him to the garden.
“Oh!” Brendon says as Ryan pushes open the doors leading outside. “Ryan, it’s beautiful!”
Ryan nods, staying quiet. He loves the gardens himself. It’s summer, and everything is in bloom, giant sunflowers facing the sun, big red roses popping up by the hundreds, pink carnations, forget-me-nots and lilacs scattered everywhere. He could spend hours here. But he doesn’t say any of that; most people think that things like flowers are for girls, and Brendon is probably just being nice.
Brendon’s smile fades slightly. “You don’t mind me just calling you Ryan, do you? I can call you a title, if you want, um, Master Ryan.”
Ryan blinks, surprised. “You don’t have to call me anything. Why would you think that?”
Brendon shrugs. “You didn’t talk much, that’s all. I thought maybe you were mad. A lot of people really care about that sort of thing.”
“Pete doesn’t,” Ryan points out, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.
“My father does. Anyway, come on.” Brendon tugs on Ryan’s hand. “Show me the flowers?”
Ryan smiles then, really smiles. It might be his first real smile since his parents died. “Sure. Come on; the roses are my favorite.”
They stay in the garden for the rest of the afternoon, sword-fighting with sticks, chasing birds and one frog Brendon found by the lake, playing explorers in the sunflowers.
As the sun begins to set, they splay out on the ground, looking up at the sky and picking out shapes in the clouds. Brendon points out a fire-breathing dragon with a mermaid on his head, which Ryan can’t help but laugh at.
“You know what?” Brendon asks suddenly. “My favorite flower is grass.”
Ryan wrinkles his nose. He’s become incredibly comfortable with Brendon, just in this one afternoon. Brendon’s personality is irresistible, even for a loner like Ryan. He just feels different with Brendon than with anyone else he’s ever known, more at ease and able to express himself. “But grass is boring. And I don’t think it’s a flower, either.”
Brendon sits up on one of his elbows, smiling. “But that’s the thing! It is! Or, it has some flowers, anyway.” He buries his hand in the grass beside him and comes up with a tiny white flower. “See? This is grass. It’s just that no one ever notices it because it’s so small. That’s not the only thing, though. I really like how green grass can be. It’s the best color green in the world, I think.”
Ryan stares at the flower contemplatively for a moment, then looks up at Brendon. The setting sun is casting a golden glow over the boy, haloing in his dark hair and highlighting his lightly pinked cheeks. Ryan didn’t notice before, but Brendon has a soft dusting of freckles right across his nose.
Ryan feels his face heat up, and he quickly averts his gaze. “I- It’s a really nice green, yeah.”
“Master Ryan, Brendon!” They both look up to see a servant, Victoria, at the garden’s doors. “His majesty says that it’s almost dark and requests that you two come to dinner!”
Ryan clumsily scrambles to stand, but Brendon just holds up his hand for help. Ryan, redder than ever, pulls him to his feet.
“Thanks,” Brendon says, brushing his pants off. “We got grass all over us! Do you think King Pete will mind?”
“No, but your father might.” At the instant look of panic on Brendon’s face, Ryan quickly adds, “I’m sure I have something in my chambers that could fit you, if you’d like to change really fast.”
Brendon absolutely beams at him. “Really? Thank you, Ryan.”
“Master Ryan!”
“We’re coming, Victoria,” Ryan calls back. “Please tell Pete that we’ll be there in ten minutes. We need to clean up a little.”
She nods, disappearing back into the castle.
“Let’s go get you changed,” Ryan says. Brendon nods and takes Ryan’s hand.
***
At dinner, Pete announces that Brendon’s father has graciously stated that he would allow Brendon to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. The grin on Pete’s face suggests that the baron is not the one that proposed this idea.
Brendon can barely contain his obvious excitement, bouncing in his seat for the rest of the meal.
Ryan fears that he’ll never stop blushing, but he can’t help but smile anyway.
***
Brendon spends every summer with Ryan after that, and the two boys can’t seem to spend enough time together. They’re always busy getting into something. Ryan teaches Brendon how to ride a horse and shoot an arrow. Brendon teaches Ryan how to play checkers and swim in the lake.
Together, they grow to be favorite guests to the villagers of Nottingham. As they grow older, they brave Sherwood Forest, climbing the huge oak trees there and intentionally losing themselves amongst all the greenery until they know much of the forest like the backs of their own hands.
From autumn to summer, Ryan misses Brendon with a desperation that grows worse every year until he realizes the truth. He’s in love. He doesn’t say anything, though, keeps his mouth shut because he doesn’t want to lose what he and Brendon have together and because, at least until he’s been officially announced as Pete’s heir presumptive, he’s got neither title nor noble birth to offer Brendon. So, he forces himself to be content with their friendship. He still becomes depressed when Brendon is away, but he soothes himself with the knowledge that Brendon will be back next year.
Until the year that Ryan turns seventeen, when he gets a short message from Brendon stating that Lord Urie’s land has fallen under attack and that he will not be returning to the castle.
Ryan locks himself in his room for several days after receiving the letter, barely eating and refusing to see anyone, even Pete. He just lies in his bed and tries to recall their last summer together.
They had discovered a huge oak tree in Sherwood Forest with branches so wide that they had been able to picnic on them. They had planned to build some sort of house on that tree and run away there one day so that they didn’t have to worry about the pains and expectations of being noble.
Ryan remembers a moment when he stumbled on a branch and accidentally pushed Brendon against the tree’s trunk. They’d only been an inch away from each other, and it would have been so easy, would have felt so natural and right, to just lean in and kiss him. But he hadn’t.
And now, Ryan thinks, I might regret it for the rest of my life.
That was the last summer Ryan saw Brendon.
***
In the years to come, Pete would be caught up in a war of his own, reluctantly leaving his peaceful life in Nottingham to help fight with those who couldn’t fight for themselves. William, Pete’s closest advisor, is left in charge while he’s away.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Ryan,” Pete assured him, with eyes much more worn and telling than they should have been. “It’s that I know what this life does to people, and I don’t want it to ruin you, not when you’re so smart and have so much potential. You’re the best archer I’ve ever seen, I think.”
Ryan had simply nodded and wished Pete a safe and short journey.
***
When Pete told William his decision to leave him in charge, William vowed to do everything he could to assist Pete in his war effort despite being left in Nottingham.
Unfortunately, William’s idea of helping was to raise the taxes of the citizens in Pete’s realm to heights no one had seen before.
Ryan tries to ignore it at first, chalking it up to a mixture of need for the war and a couple of bad decisions on William’s part, but when Ryan begins to notice how many people are starting to clamber at the palace gates, begging for bread to feed their families, he can’t stay silent.
“I’m protecting them,” William insists, mouth set in a firm line.
“You’re killing them!” Ryan yells, gritting his teeth.
William gives him a long, hard stare. “And when King Pete doesn’t have enough funding for the war and the land gets taken by barbarians, we’ll all die.”
Ryan scowls. “Pete would never have starved his people to keep the land. He would rather have hanged himself, first. The people won’t stand for this forever. I think you’re letting greed blind you to that fact, William.”
William looks down at the book on his desk, eyes skimming the numbers that he’s been crunching for the past hour. “Ryan,” he finally says, “until Pete declares you king, it doesn’t matter what you think.”
Hurt and angry, Ryan fists his hands so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. He wants to punch William in the mouth, shake him, scream, do something, anything to make him see that what he’s doing is wrong.
But he knows that what William said is correct. No matter what Ryan says or does, it won’t matter to William or the lords and guards that William controls.
So, instead of resorting to violence, he storms out of the study and heads for his room, already hatching a plan.
It’s the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do, but Ryan is leaving the safety and security of Pete’s kingdom. He’s going to help the people who can’t help themselves, or he’ll die trying.
This is the last day that he lives in Nottingham Palace.
***
It took about a month after Ryan began living in Sherwood Forest before he starts to steal from the rich to aid the common people. The wanted posters spring up almost instantly, like William was just waiting for him to make that first move. In the beginning, the posters state that he should be captured but unharmed, and that there would be a small reward for his arrest.
The reward slowly grows as Ryan’s escapades increased in frequency and daring, until finally, the text above his picture reads “WANTED: Dead or Alive” with a hefty reward that would make anyone willing to turn him in a very wealthy person.
But the people never go against him. Ryan sometimes wonders if it’ll ever happen, if someday one of the widows in the town will look at their starving children and be forced to trap him. But any time he gives someone a small satchel of gold to tide them through a particularly rough period, the look of complete gratitude on that person’s face tells Ryan that it will never happen.
And even if it does, everything will have been worth it anyway.
***
One day, Ryan meets Spencer.
Spencer walks into the woods, determined to find Ryan, and he does. He demands that he be allowed to join Ryan in helping the village people.
Ryan tries to tell Spencer that he’s too young, but Spencer won’t leave, and that’s that.
Others come eventually, too, Jon, the Alexes, Travis, Cash and several more. They all come into the woods with the intent of finding Ryan, and Ryan always tells them to go home because this isn’t the life most people want to live. They never leave though and laughingly call themselves Ryan’s Merry Men. Ryan has habitually worn green since leaving the palace, mostly for camouflage amongst the trees, and all of the boys voluntarily clothe themselves in green to match their “leader”.
Ryan can never tell if their joining him will be a good thing or a bad thing, in the end. Having the others means that he has more resources at his disposal, more options when it comes to stealing from William (Prince William, as the people of Nottingham have mockingly begun to call him). His plans become more elaborate, and he learns new tricks, how to use a grappling hook to scale walls from Spencer, how to cook from Jon, how to sew costumes from Alex Marshall. In return, he teaches them the only skill he’s really mastered, how to use a bow and arrow, though none of them ever get quite as good as he is.
On the other hand, having more people means the possibility that someone will betray them or get caught.
But, Ryan figures, it’s really only going to be a matter of time before someone gets caught, anyway. In the meantime, he might as well learn how to make a mean beef stew and help a couple dozen more families than he’d ever be able to on his own.
At least the forest isn’t quite as lonely anymore.
***
Living in Sherwood Forest has several benefits. The thick foliage makes it really hard for anyone to ride on horseback through the trees, meaning that most searches stop after about a hundred feet past the tree line. If searches do go further in, there are plenty of places to hide, and there are endless opportunities when it comes to making booby traps. Since there are no neighbors, the men can be as loud as they want to be without worrying about being caught.
But life in the forest also has its drawbacks, the main one being that they are often cut off from current events.
Ryan tries to keep up with everything by disguising himself and going to the Blue Boar Inn, a pub run by an old friend of his, Frank. Gerard, Frank’s longtime boyfriend and a permanent fixture on the pub’s bar despite the fact that he hasn’t had a drink in ten years, is basically a gossip. He probably doesn’t mean to be. He usually peppers their conversations with, “not that I would ever say anything behind his back or anything,” and, “you know I love her, I really do, but…”
Still, Ryan likes Gerard a lot, and he’s probably their most valuable source of information.
Today, Ryan takes on the persona of a carpenter travelling for work, and Spencer, who has become Ryan’s right hand man, tags along as his supposed business partner.
When they walk into the pub, Ryan can tell that Frank instantly recognizes them, though almost no one else is ever able to. “Hey,” he greets. “What will you guys have?”
“Ale,” Ryan answers with a smile, his accent heavy and northern. They always get ale.
“Coming right up. Why don’t you guys have a seat?” He jerks his head toward the corner.
They thank him then slide into chairs across from Gerard, smiling. “Mind if we sit here?” Spencer asks.
Gerard smiles with recognition. “I guess there’s enough room for all of us. Go ahead.”
Spread in front of Gerard are pieces of paper with hundreds of sketches on them. He’s a really talented artist. Ryan always thinks that it’s a shame that he’ll probably never have enough money to get real supplies for his work.
Ryan drops his voice below the hum of the pub’s other occupants. “How’s everything been, Gee?”
Gerard’s smile turns mischievously. “I have some news for you that’s going to drive you wild, Ryan.”
Ryan arches an eyebrow. “Well?”
Gerard gathers his bits of paper into a stack, purposefully drawing out the tension. “Prince William is hosting an archery contest tomorrow.”
Ryan’s eyes light up at that, and Spencer smiles at him. “You’d have that one in the bag, Ryan.”
Ryan bows his head graciously. “Thank you, Spencer, but I’m pretty sure I’m not invited.”
Gerard laughs. “Well, it’s technically an open invitation, but the tournament isn’t the real surprise.”
Gerard pauses again. It’s then that Frank walks up, handing them their drinks. Upon seeing Ryan and Spencer’s expectant faces, he rolls his eyes. “Gerard, just tell them.”
He puts up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. You’d better be glad you’re sitting down, Ryan, because you’ll need to be after this.” He grins. “Brendon will be there.”
Ryan chokes on his ale and descends into a coughing fit. Spencer pats his back as Ryan sputters, “What? Brendon?”
Gerard nods. “That’s right. The tournament is Brendon’s official welcome back to Nottingham. He’ll be staying for a while. Apparently, he’s come to be tutored in the palace.”
Spencer laughs. “Oh, wow. Ryan was just talking about Brendon the other night. He burned our dinner while he daydreamed about those big brown eyes and those cute little freckles.”
Ryan doesn’t know how the guys originally found out about his feelings for Brendon, but they’ve been hounding him about it for months now. Ryan can feel his ears turn red, and he shoves Spencer. “Shut up, Spencer, or I’ll tell Gerard about your recent tryst with one Jon Walker.”
Gerard is instantly alert, leaning forward. “Really? Congratulations, Spencer.”
Spencer flushes and shoves Ryan back. “You see what you’ve done? Now the whole village is going to know.”
Gerard looks genuinely hurt. “Come on now. Who’s going to tell?”
Frank laughs and drops an affectionate kiss to the top of Gerard’s head. “Gee, you are many things, but quiet is not one of them.”
Gerard pouts, crossing his arms. “Fine then. I won’t say anything anymore.”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Gerard,” Spencer says. He pulls a roll of paper from his belt and holds it out to him. “Besides, we brought you a present.”
Gerard beams, taking his gift. “Thanks, guys. You’re awesome.”
“And you,” Ryan says, holding out a small parchment bag to Frank. “Payment for the ale, plus a tip for the company and the use of your significant other.”
Frank takes the bag, his face solemn. He usually puts up a fight about taking money that someone else could use. He and Gerard must be really hurting this month.
Almost as if he’s reading Ryan’s mind, Gerard says, “That asshole Prince William raised taxes on businesses.”
Ryan grits his teeth, and Spencer’s hands fist. “Lovely.”
“Anyway,” Frank says, turning the subject from himself, “you should really consider taking part in the tournament. There will be a cash reward, and I know that Greta has been having a hard time with the orphanage lately. The fucker of a sheriff gave her notice that, according to some bullshit law, the orphanage counts as a business, apparently. Anyway, they could really use the help.”
Ryan’s expression darkens significantly. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Frank, Gerard,” he stands up, raising his voice again so that everyone can hear and adopting a northern accent, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you gents, a real pleasure.”
Frank shakes his hand. “Come back any time.”
And with that, Ryan and Spencer take their leave. As soon as they get out of the pub’s sight, Ryan punches the nearest tree as hard as he can. A sharp pain instantly shoots through his hand, but he doesn’t care. He hits the tree again, grinding out, “That bastard.”
“Hey, hey,” Spencer says, grabbing Ryan’s hand. “You’ll need that particular appendage tomorrow.”
Ryan sighs. “I know. Just. Shit, Spencer.” He runs his hand tiredly through his hair. “It’s never going to be over.”
Spencer places a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You can’t say that, Ryan. One day, King Pete will come home, and all of this will be over. He’d never let any of this happen if he had any idea. You just have to have hope.”
Ryan bites his tongue to keep himself from saying that there isn’t any hope left to have. Instead, he offers Spencer a weak smile. “Let’s get back to the forest. I need to rest up before I win that big tournament tomorrow.”
Spencer smiles. “That’s the spirit.”
***
Today Ryan is dressed as a beggar, adorning himself in a patchwork coat, a floppy, half-useless hat and this morning’s stubble.
“Do you think that they’ll recognize us?” Dallon asks, pulling a shirt that makes him look like a noble over his head.
Everyone stops in their various states of undress to look at him in amusement. Dallon is the newest member of their group, joining after he’d no longer been able to support his family with such heavy taxes on his shoulders, and the new ones are always skittish their first time out.
“Ryan and Marshall came up with our costumes, Dallon,” Jon says, smudging some dirt on his own face. “As long as you don’t go around saying that your name is Dallon and you are one of Ryan’s Merry Men, no, they won’t recognize us.”
“Don’t worry, Dallon.” Ryan tests his bow, pulling an arrow taught against the string, then relaxing it. He pulls it taught again, and with seemingly no time to aim, he looses it in Dallon’s direction. Dallon doesn’t have time to move, and the arrow pierces through the top of his hat, burying itself in a tree behind him. Dallon stares at him, stunned, and Ryan laughs. “This will be my greatest performance.”
***
His men enters the festival grounds one by one to keep from looking like they’ve ever met each other, and Ryan chooses to wait until just before the sign-ups for the contest end before he shows his face.
“Name?” the guard in charge asks without even looking at his face as Ryan walks up.
“Ryland.”
The guard looks at Ryan’s face then, eyes blinking with surprise. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Ryan throws his voice into a distinctly southern dialect. “My name is Ryland of Devonshire.”
“Oh, we share a name, then.” The guard’s eyes squint, like he’s trying to see into Ryan’s soul but just can’t manage. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before writing on his piece of paper. “My apologies, Ryland. Please head toward the targets. The contest will be starting soon.”
Ryan nods, turning around and rolling his eyes. Ryland was always a little bit slow in some points, and though this had worked to Ryan’s advantage, it still grates on his nerves.
As he approaches the targets, Spencer approaches him from the side, extending his hand in greeting. “James of Wentbridge.”
Ryan smiles pleasantly, giving Spencer’s hand a sound shake. “Ryland of Devonshire. Pleased to meet you.”
“Looks like a great day for me to win a tournament, don’t you think?” Spencer asks cockily. “Are you competing?”
“I’ve got my bow and arrows, don’t I? And I beg to differ about who will be winning all that prize money.” They both laugh. Business as usual. One competitor bantering with another.
Spencer lowers his voice then, dropping his assumed character. “Have you seen him yet?”
Ryan raises his chin defiantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Spencer gives him a skeptical look. “Well, then I guess you won’t care about looking toward your right.”
Ryan stares at him for a moment, trying to appear unfazed, then, “Damn it, Spencer.” He tries to ignore the smug look on Spencer’s face when he can’t stop himself from looking.
And his heart immediately leaps into his throat.
After almost ten years of aching to see him again, Brendon is maybe twenty feet away, smiling at something that one of the guards, Siska if Ryan remembers correctly, is saying to him. The sun is haloing in his hair and highlighting his cheeks. He’s different in some ways, of course, a little taller, his shoulders more rounded, and his hair is a little longer, softly curling around his ears.
But he’s still so obviously Brendon.
Ryan’s immediate reaction is to go to him, but Spencer grabs his arm. “Ryan,” he reminds him, “you can’t just approach him when you’re dressed like this. He won’t recognize you.”
It’s then that Brendon chooses to look at Ryan, right at him, like he knew what they had been saying somehow. Their gazes meet, and Ryan can’t breathe. “Yes, he does,” Ryan says, voice almost a whisper.
Brendon breaks their connection first, obviously giving some quick excuse to Siska before heading toward Ryan and Spencer.
Ryan is just grateful that he has enough sense left to bow as Brendon finally makes it to them. No matter what, he can’t let the guards realize who he is. “Brendon, sir, welcome back to Nottingham.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be back,” Brendon replies, smiling full force. “Will you be competing in the tournament, um..?”
“Ryland, sir,” Ryan finishes for him. “And yes, I will be.”
Spencer gives a sharp tug on Ryan’s arm, and Ryan starts to turn and frown at him, but he realizes what Spencer was trying to warn him of. Gabe approaches them quickly and steps right into the middle of their conversation.
“Hello again, Brendon,” Gabe says, smiling at him. Gabe is lucky that Ryan is supposed to be in disguise. In any other situation, Ryan would have punched him in the mouth for omitting any sort of polite address to his brash greeting toward Brendon.
Brendon shifts uncomfortably. “Hello, sheriff. Good to see you again.”
“And lovely to see you,” he responds, obviously oblivious to Ryan setting his jaw. Gabe turns to them and offers a smug smile to him, “Hello, boys. Come to compete in the tournament?”
Before Ryan can open his mouth and end up saying something he definitely shouldn’t, Spencer says, “We are, sir.”
Brendon bites his lip. “Sheriff Gabe is competing, too, you know.”
Ryan smirks, arching a brow. “Is he now?” He grabs Gabe’s hand and shakes it firmly, slightly startling the sheriff. “Well, sir, that’d be a real honor, a real treat to go against such a formidable opponent as yourself.”
Gabe takes a step back as soon as Ryan releases him. “Thanks, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get ready. It’s about to start. Brendon, I’d be glad to escort you to your seat.”
Brendon smiles blandly at Gabe. “Of course.” He looks at Ryan again, reaching out and touching the sleeve of his cloak. “Good luck. I’ll be cheering for you.”
And they’re gone.
“So that was Brendon, huh? Wow,” Spencer says, amusement lacing his voice, “at least your feelings are mutual. Why don’t you just confess to him or something?”
Ryan shakes his head, not even allowing his heart to skip that beat it so badly wants to skip. “Brendon has real noble blood. Even when I lived in the castle, I wasn’t in a high enough class for him to ever consider me as anything more than a friend. Now I’m an outlaw. I can’t ask him to give up his entire life to be with me.”
Spencer’s expression softens with sympathy, and he reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Ryan-”
“All competitors in the archery tournament, please report to the field!” Ryland calls out, finally having left his post at the sign up table.
“Come on,” Ryan says. “We need to get that money for the orphanage.”
Spencer purses his lips and nods.
***
They’re playing dirty. Ryan doesn’t know why he’s surprised by this, but he is.
Before the games began, all of the players’ equipment was confiscated and replaced with the guards’ standard issue bows and arrows. Ryland had explained to everyone that this was to keep everyone even, making this a game about skill rather than equipment.
All it’s really going to do is give Gabe an unfair advantage. Everyone is used to their own equipment, no matter the state that it’s in. Now, someone whose own bow was strung tighter than the guards’ bow would overshoot. Someone who unknowingly creates slightly bent arrows will overcompensate and possibly miss the target completely.
Some of the townspeople look delighted at being able to use better equipment than they’re used to. Nothing makes Ryan madder than seeing someone being taken advantage of without them even realizing it.
But he keeps his trap shut and watches competitor after competitor miss the target. Jon and Dallon, who are also competing, are having trouble hitting the target at all. Even Spencer, one of the most competent people Ryan has ever taught to use a bow, has incredible difficulty in hitting the bullseye.
Ryan is just grateful that these were the bows and arrows that he cut his teeth on. The second he receives his equipment, he examines the arrows for straightness and pulls the string back to get a feel for the new resistance. He can’t help but feel a little proud that the quality of his own bow is better than this one could ever hope to be.
The look on Gabe’s face as the first round draws closer to the end is one of complete satisfaction.
It’s Ryan’s turn, and he takes his place, toeing at the line the archers are supposed to stay behind. He notches his arrow and pulls it tight, rounding his shoulders into a straight line. He takes aim, and lets the arrow fly.
It hits dead center.
The crowd roars, finally seeing someone they can cheer for.
Gabe seems bewildered. It’s his turn, and when he releases his own arrow, it hits in the second ring.
It’s only the first round, but almost everyone has already been pared off. Ryland calls for the target to be moved back, and the second round begins.
“Great form, Sheriff Gabe. The way your shoulders are so perfectly aligned, sir, it’s astounding,” Ryan says, smiling. He’s mocking him, of course. Gabe’s stance his completely off. But Gabe doesn’t know that. “That outlaw, Ryan, he better be glad he didn’t show up today. He’d be jealous of how easy you make it look.”
Gabe makes a face like he just ate something sour. “That coward should be jealous. He can’t hold a candle to my natural talent.”
“Of course not.” Ryan sights down his arrow for the second round. He makes a second perfect bullseye.
From the royal seating, Ryan distinctly hears Brendon cheering for him. Ryan glances over his shoulder at him, and Brendon waves. Ryan can’t help but offer a little wave back.
He sees William lean toward Brendon, saying something to him that makes Brendon look down, smiling. Ryan will never be able to look at Brendon smiling and not feel a little weak in the knees.
“Distracted, Ryland?” Spencer’s voice mumbles in his ear.
Ryan snorts. “Having some problems with your shooting, James?”
Spencer scowls. “This damned game is rigged. They might as well have asked us to throw the arrows at the targets with our bare hands with as much good as these bows do us.”
Ryan nods. He knows. “Just do your best.”
“Hey, would you two hens stop clucking and get back into the game?” Gabe snaps, indicating that it is Spencer’s turn.
Jon and Dallon are both out this round, and Spencer is out the next.
And then it’s just Gabe and Ryan.
“I can’t believe I get to compete one on one with you, Sheriff Gabe.” Ryan is going to make himself sick if he keeps this act up, seriously.
“I can’t believe it either,” Gabe mutters, notching his arrow and slowly, very slowly, taking aim.
Ryan studies Gabe’s stance, the tip of the arrow, and the distance of the target. He’s surprised to realize that Gabe will actually make it into the center this time.
When Gabe releases the arrow, Ryan’s exact placement of it is off by less than half an inch. Gabe’s arrow has made it into the center circle.
“Ha!” Gabe laughs. “Can’t get much better than that.”
Ryan nods. “Good job.” He sets his jaw and pulls his arrow tight. If Ryan doesn’t make it dead center, just the slightest bit to the left of Gabe’s arrow, he’ll lose.
He takes a deep breath, chooses his exact targeted area, and adjusts his bow accordingly.
Ryan exhales and lets the arrow go. It grazes so close to Gabe’s arrow that a couple of feathers are sheared off, floating to the ground.
Everything is quiet for a moment, and then the crowd goes wild.
Ryan has won.
He looks to Brendon who is grinning like crazy. Ryan returns his smile and heads toward the royal chairs to claim his prize from William.
As he approaches, Ryland runs ahead and whispers something in William’s ear that makes him regard Ryan thoughtfully.
Once he is in front of William, Ryan bows deeply. “Your majesty.”
“Congratulations, Ryland of Devonshire,” William says. “You’ve performed remarkably well.”
“Thank you, sire. It was an honor to compete in celebration of Brendon’s return.” He glances up at Brendon, who looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin with contained excitement.
William arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I’m sure. Well then, it’s my honor to pronounce you the winner, Ryland of Devonshire. Or would you prefer Ryan of Sherwood?”
Surprise surges through Ryan, prickling at his skin, and he’s about to bolt, but the guards are too fast. They grab his arms and force him to the ground, tying his hands with rope. A hand fists in his hair and painfully yanks him back to his feet.
Brendon’s eyes are incredibly wide, horrified, and he’s leapt up from his chair only to be blocked from getting to Ryan by guards that surround him from all sides.
William’s face is completely blank, like he wasn’t one of the people who helped raise him since he was five. For the first time, Pete’s warning about the life of a king ruining people really makes sense. “Ryan, you have been charged with treason to the crown.”
Ryan sneers. “I’ve never been anything but loyal to Pete’s crown. You’re the one committing treason, Prince William. Those who desire power should never possess it.”
“It appears that you’ve forgotten our parting words, Ryan.” William frowns and looks at Gabe, who has Ryan’s right arm clamped in his hand. “The penalty for treason is death. Kill him, Gabe.”
“No! William, don’t do this,” Brendon pleads. “You can’t realize what you’ll be doing.”
William doesn’t even bother to look at Brendon. “On the contrary, I know exactly what I’ll be doing.”
Three arrows imbed themselves in the wooden post just behind William, right above his head. “So do we,” Spencer’s voice calls, though he’s nowhere to be seen. “And we suggest you hop to it with getting Ryan untied before you have a few extra holes in that pretty head of yours.”
There’s a moment of pause before another arrow thumps just that much closer to William’s head. “We’re waiting, Prince William.”
William looks down at Ryan with more disdain than could possibly be put into words. “Let him go.”
Gabe nods and unsheathes a dagger at his waist, easily slicing through the ropes. At the last moment, he twists the dagger so that its blade bites into Ryan’s arm.
Ryan hisses involuntarily, and Brendon shoves a guard away from him as hard as he can, running to Ryan and throwing his arms around him. “Holy shit, Ryan,” Brendon mutters into his neck.
William’s mouth opens, and one last arrow pierces through the sky, landing at William’s feet. “Not a word, William,” Spencer’s voice warns.
Jon appears from behind a booth advertising Nottingham’s best blueberry pies, his bow already tight with an arrow. “Come on, lovebirds. Time to go.”
Ryan takes Brendon’s hand in his and lifts his wounded arm, tilting his hat with the hand of that arm. “Until next time, prince.”
With Jon and, eventually, the rest of his men watching their backs, Ryan leads Brendon into Sherwood Forest.
***
“Oh,” Brendon says when he sees the home that Ryan has created, “Ryan, it’s our oak tree!”
Ryan smiles, a little bashful. “When I first left, this was the only place I could think of to go. It’s served us pretty well so far.”
“I can’t believe you actually built a house into it.” Brendon looks delighted. “It’s like a fairytale.”
“More like a desperate attempt at normalcy,” Spencer says behind them. “My real name is Spencer, by the way. It’s nice to finally meet the subject of Ryan’s affections.”
Brendon turns to him, smiling. “That was your voice before. Thank you for saving Ryan.”
Spencer shrugs. “Where would we be without our fearless leader?”
“Ha ha, very funny, Spencer,” Ryan says, unamused. “I just wish we’d gotten that reward for Greta.”
“Who says we didn’t?” Marshall asks, dropping a leather satchel from his back and opening it up. Gold shines up at Ryan’s surprised face. “What did you think everyone else was busy doing while you were valiantly earning your prize?”
Ryan shakes his head in disbelief, smiling. “I’ve turned you all into a pack of little thieves. Meanwhile, someone tell me that we have a clean rag around here somewhere. I really need to clean this up.” He gestures toward his arm.
“Jesus, Ryan,” Brendon gasps, turning Ryan’s so that his forearm is facing up. There’s drying blood caked from his elbow to his palm. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s not,” Ryan reassures him. “I promise. I’ve just been moving it around a lot. It’s barely past the surface.”
“Here you go, Ryan.” Dallon offers Ryan a dampened handkerchief.
Ryan gratefully takes it, but Brendon quickly snaps it up before Ryan can put it to his arm.
“No, let me,” he insists. “Just tell me if it hurts too badly, okay?”
“Trust me, I’ve had worse.” Ryan doesn’t go into detail. Brendon doesn’t have to know that the scar on Ryan’s shoulder is from an arrow one of the guards caught him with or that he’s had to stitch himself up before.
“Hey, uh, guys,” Jon addresses the others, “let’s get this gold to Greta, okay? I’m sure she could use it as soon as possible.”
The others nod, understanding, and they leave Ryan and Brendon alone in the clearing.
Brendon has Ryan sit on a tree stump, and he kneels beside him. “Tell me if it hurts,” he repeats, then presses the cloth to the cut.
Ryan stays perfectly still, silently watching Brendon clean off the blood. He notices that some blood accidentally rubbed onto Brendon’s jacket, staining it. “Sorry.”
“Hm?” Brendon looks at his sleeve. “Oh, no. Ryan, it’s no big deal. I’ve been through a war, remember? I’ve had blood on my clothes before.”
That’s right. Ryan had forgotten. Brendon has seen his own fair share of ugliness now. He’s not the innocent child he was the last time Ryan saw him.
“All the more reason not to ruin the rest of them,” Ryan jokes lightly.
Brendon hums neutrally. “I feel like we’re kids playing in the woods again, except that you’d be the one cleaning up my cuts instead of me cleaning yours.” There’s a slight pause before Brendon adds, “I missed you, Ryan.”
“I missed you, too.”
Brendon ties the handkerchief around the actual cut, smoothing his fingers over it gently. He looks up at Ryan, and his face is older than Ryan remembers, paler, without sun-kissed freckles, but his eyes are the same.
He tilts his head up and pushes himself up onto his knees, mumbles a quiet, “Ryan,” and their mouths connect, and they’re kissing.
Brendon’s fingers find their way into Ryan’s hair, and Ryan’s hands move to Brendon’s hips, thumbs sliding across the thin sliver of skin exposed between his pants and his jacket.
Brendon readjusts, situating himself between Ryan’s legs, and when Ryan’s tongue flits across his bottom lip, he makes a soft, needy sound that goes straight to Ryan’s dick before opening up to him.
But it’s bad. It’s bad, it’s bad, it’s bad. Ryan drops his hands and says, “Stop.”
Brendon doesn’t hear him, or acts like he doesn’t, and presses himself that much harder against Ryan.
Ryan gently pushes him away. “Brendon, stop.”
“What?” Brendon’s face passes through confusion, irritation and hurt.
Ryan hates himself so much more than he ever thought he could. “We can’t."
“But. Why?”
“I’m in love with someone else.” It’s the first thing Ryan could think of, and, in his desperation, the words tumble out before he can stop them.
Brendon jerks away from him then, standing quickly, staring in utter disbelief. “You. Are you serious? With who?”
Ryan looks down and miserably says, “Spencer.”
He more feels rather than sees the retribution coming, but he still doesn’t expect Brendon to punch him so hard that he ends up flat on his back, hand covering his bleeding lip.
Brendon stares down at him, eyes bright and hands fisting. “I did everything I could to get back here to you so I… so we… and you just...” His voice falters. “I hate you, Ryan.”
And with that, Brendon turns on his heel, disappearing into the shadows of the woods.
Ryan stays on his back, staring up at the canopy of leaves above him, holding his swollen lip. It’s for the best, he thinks. He closes his eyes and tries not to care that his heart is totally, completely broken.
Part 2