Fic: A Son's Lament
Title: A Son’s Lament
Rating: G
Summary: Set after 3x10 ‘Bad Blood’, in light of recent revelations, Robin needs a moment of privacy.
Characters: Robin, Much.
A/N: Not what I intended to write, and not sure if it entirely works, but it’s what the muses insisted I wrote down. Meh, I’m not happy with the last line, re-wrote it several times and nothing seems to fit. Hope it’s not eye rollingly cliché! Let me know folks, I always appreciate the feedback x
*Spoilers for Season 3 Episode 10 - Bad Blood*
~
There was a sense of unease in the camp, Robin’s shock disappearance and return, with Gisbourne in tow, did nothing to enhance their spirits. Even after the rushed explanation from Robin, nobody was sure what to make of the situation and fingers hovered close over weapons for any wrong move on Guy’s part. Robin, as always, was already planning ahead, they needed to be on the road and quickly. Tuck imposed some forward thinking to make sure they went prepared, supplies were packed, enough to get them to their destination, it wouldn’t do to arrive for a ‘rescue’ ill equipped to play their part.
Robin seemed jittery, evidently revelations had knocked him off guard, his attention seemed caught in the past, in analysing what he’d been told and trying to understand everything that had gone on in the past night. As everyone rushed to get things ready, he pulled John to one side.
“I need to go somewhere, I won’t be long, keep an eye on Gisbourne for me.” Robin said to him in a low tone.
He didn’t doubt Guy’s genuine keenness to go and save their half brother, but didn’t trust him enough to leave him to his own devices. John had already made known his dislike at the idea of working with Gisbourne but had accepted Robin’s reasons, pledged his support to him. John gave him a nod, shooting a side glance at Guy who sat brooding in a corner, ignoring everyone bustling around him, lost in thought.
“Thanks,” Robin said before sidling closer to the entrance of the camp, catching Much by the arm as he passed by. Much paused and looked at him questioningly. “Come with me.”
Without giving Much a chance to refuse or ask where it was they were going he left without a word to the others. They’d not be gone long and he’d be grateful for the momentary chance to gather his thoughts. Much fell into step with him, silent, unquestioning, though no doubt he was confused with everything going on. They headed for Locksley, Robin trying in vain to forget the revelation of his father still living. He felt cheated, to have lost his father as a child had been one of the worst hardships to endure, to have lost him all over again was a torture on his mind and soul.
As a boy he’d hid his tears, hidden his emotions to an extent that only when he was alone did he allow himself to grieve. He’d told himself too grieve openly, publicly, was a hindrance, a weakness that would be used against him. He’d cried for his fathers passing in the shadows night would bring, if the priest had heard him he’d never spoke of it, allowed him his privacy to mourn the loss.
The memories of the time after the fire had always been hazy for Robin, as if months of his life had passed without him noticing. He’d lived with Swain as the manor house was slowly rebuilt, the priest had done his best to educate him on his duty as Lord, about responsibility and earning the respect of the people. Swain had also done his best to make sure Robin held onto the memory of his father and all he’d taught him. But those first few months Robin remembered little about, only long days stretching one into another as he contemplated life, left alone in the world.
Then Swain had brought Much to him and life suddenly seemed to move on again. After the fire it was the first memory of full clarity Robin had, Swain leaving them alone to acquaint themselves with each other. Something had merely clicked into place, perhaps the old priest had had some insight, that they would be good for each other.
As they reached the end of the path atop of the embankment leading down to Locksley, they came to a slight pause.
“Want me to wait here?” Much asked him, he hadn’t needed to ask Robin where he was going, like a sixth sense, he already knew.
Robin gave a small shake of his head, he didn’t want to be completely alone right then and they descended down the bank, around the gorse bushes that grew in clumps upon it. They didn’t go very far, the grave had been put high enough, ‘so she can keep looking down on us’ Robin’s father had told him when they’d buried her. He hadn’t been to the graveside in many years, not since they’d left to follow Richard to the Holy Land.
The gorse had grown close, entwining itself around the cross which was the only hint of a grave having been there anymore but Robin knew the spot well enough. He came to a halt by it, Much hovering close by. Looking down over Locksley he wondered how his life could have been so vastly different if circumstances hadn’t put him onto it’s current path. Perhaps life would have been happier, easier, less painful. Of course the road not taken is always easier to peer down after events cause tumultuous change and he knew it wasn’t fair to wonder about the ‘what if’s’. Every path brings with it it’s own hardships, follies and happiness, nothing is ever as perfect as it seems.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for abandoning me,” he said aloud, whatever reasons Malcolm had had for leaving, it wouldn’t make up for the pain Robin had had to contend with over the years. The feeling that he should have done something, anything, to try and save those inside the house as it burned to the ground.
Something had sparked within him when Malcolm had revealed himself, all the years of carrying around the boxed in emotions he strived to keep hidden from everyone around him. His life seemed filled with moments of grief over loss, his mother, his father, Swain, the many soldiers who died in the wars, Marian. He felt weak from drawing on the strength to keep himself composed, instead of crying, he’d poured his grief over Marian into gaining revenge against Gisbourne and the sheriff. After his fathers death he’s poured his grief into becoming a man his father may have been proud of, the deaths of fellow soldiers in battle only made him fight all the more harder and ruthless.
The truth was he was tired of being burdened with death, of having to bury another heartache, burying the pain and grief just so he could operate day by day; fuelled by anger and the need to make things right. He chanced a look at Much, so very different to him, perhaps that was why Swain had brought him. Much showed every one his emotions, be he happy, sad, angry, nothing was hidden. When the priest had taken him in, he’d also been grieving the loss of his own father, but where Robin hid his grief from prying eyes, Much had openly grieved. Robin at first had thought it a weakness, but had grown to see it as a strength, Much grieved openly but it helped him move on more easily.
Much was the one person who’d witnessed his tears for his father, a part of the shadows of the night, a hand on his shoulder to offer a consoling support. They’d never spoke of it in the light of day, the nights would pass and with them any witness to tears and crying’s out for what had been lost. Much understood he didn’t wish to speak of it, so he didn’t ask, just made sure Robin knew he was there for him.
Much caught him looking and peered resolutely back, silent, listening. For someone who always had something to say, he had an uncanny knack for being quiet and contemplative when necessary. Robin knew he took it for granted, that he didn’t appreciate it often enough, the luck he had in having Much as his friend.
Crouching down low, he pushed some of the gorse away from the half prone cross, it did little to tidy the grave but it made him feel a little better. They couldn’t stay long, needed to be on the road as soon as possible, but he’d needed to come, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He thought maybe he’d voice his thoughts there, over her grave, as if it would somehow make everything slot into place. Instead he remained silent, unable to get the image of peering into his fathers eyes again out of his head.
Malcolm was gone again and that was what hurt most of all, that he’d have to grieve for him all over again.
“It’s not fair,” he said under his breath, angry, bitter, helpless. He felt transformed to a boy again, unable to straighten out all the questions of why? It wasn’t fair, just bitterly painful. “Why did he come back, why has he done this to me again? How could he put his son through that kind of pain all those years ago? ”
It was okay to be angry there, surrounded by the gorse, hidden by the long grass, it was okay to be bitter and let his guard down, it was okay to wonder why life dealt him so much hardship, dealt him so much loss, caused so much pain inside. Much was crouched down close by, sharing his grief and Robin allowed himself to be held as Much silently listened to questions he wasn’t able to answer, just assured him that he’d never be alone in the world. That there was one person who wouldn’t abandon him despite the hardships.
And Much reminded him, on the privacy of a hillside, where no prying eyes could see, that it was okay to cry.
Rating: G
Summary: Set after 3x10 ‘Bad Blood’, in light of recent revelations, Robin needs a moment of privacy.
Characters: Robin, Much.
A/N: Not what I intended to write, and not sure if it entirely works, but it’s what the muses insisted I wrote down. Meh, I’m not happy with the last line, re-wrote it several times and nothing seems to fit. Hope it’s not eye rollingly cliché! Let me know folks, I always appreciate the feedback x
*Spoilers for Season 3 Episode 10 - Bad Blood*
~
There was a sense of unease in the camp, Robin’s shock disappearance and return, with Gisbourne in tow, did nothing to enhance their spirits. Even after the rushed explanation from Robin, nobody was sure what to make of the situation and fingers hovered close over weapons for any wrong move on Guy’s part. Robin, as always, was already planning ahead, they needed to be on the road and quickly. Tuck imposed some forward thinking to make sure they went prepared, supplies were packed, enough to get them to their destination, it wouldn’t do to arrive for a ‘rescue’ ill equipped to play their part.
Robin seemed jittery, evidently revelations had knocked him off guard, his attention seemed caught in the past, in analysing what he’d been told and trying to understand everything that had gone on in the past night. As everyone rushed to get things ready, he pulled John to one side.
“I need to go somewhere, I won’t be long, keep an eye on Gisbourne for me.” Robin said to him in a low tone.
He didn’t doubt Guy’s genuine keenness to go and save their half brother, but didn’t trust him enough to leave him to his own devices. John had already made known his dislike at the idea of working with Gisbourne but had accepted Robin’s reasons, pledged his support to him. John gave him a nod, shooting a side glance at Guy who sat brooding in a corner, ignoring everyone bustling around him, lost in thought.
“Thanks,” Robin said before sidling closer to the entrance of the camp, catching Much by the arm as he passed by. Much paused and looked at him questioningly. “Come with me.”
Without giving Much a chance to refuse or ask where it was they were going he left without a word to the others. They’d not be gone long and he’d be grateful for the momentary chance to gather his thoughts. Much fell into step with him, silent, unquestioning, though no doubt he was confused with everything going on. They headed for Locksley, Robin trying in vain to forget the revelation of his father still living. He felt cheated, to have lost his father as a child had been one of the worst hardships to endure, to have lost him all over again was a torture on his mind and soul.
As a boy he’d hid his tears, hidden his emotions to an extent that only when he was alone did he allow himself to grieve. He’d told himself too grieve openly, publicly, was a hindrance, a weakness that would be used against him. He’d cried for his fathers passing in the shadows night would bring, if the priest had heard him he’d never spoke of it, allowed him his privacy to mourn the loss.
The memories of the time after the fire had always been hazy for Robin, as if months of his life had passed without him noticing. He’d lived with Swain as the manor house was slowly rebuilt, the priest had done his best to educate him on his duty as Lord, about responsibility and earning the respect of the people. Swain had also done his best to make sure Robin held onto the memory of his father and all he’d taught him. But those first few months Robin remembered little about, only long days stretching one into another as he contemplated life, left alone in the world.
Then Swain had brought Much to him and life suddenly seemed to move on again. After the fire it was the first memory of full clarity Robin had, Swain leaving them alone to acquaint themselves with each other. Something had merely clicked into place, perhaps the old priest had had some insight, that they would be good for each other.
As they reached the end of the path atop of the embankment leading down to Locksley, they came to a slight pause.
“Want me to wait here?” Much asked him, he hadn’t needed to ask Robin where he was going, like a sixth sense, he already knew.
Robin gave a small shake of his head, he didn’t want to be completely alone right then and they descended down the bank, around the gorse bushes that grew in clumps upon it. They didn’t go very far, the grave had been put high enough, ‘so she can keep looking down on us’ Robin’s father had told him when they’d buried her. He hadn’t been to the graveside in many years, not since they’d left to follow Richard to the Holy Land.
The gorse had grown close, entwining itself around the cross which was the only hint of a grave having been there anymore but Robin knew the spot well enough. He came to a halt by it, Much hovering close by. Looking down over Locksley he wondered how his life could have been so vastly different if circumstances hadn’t put him onto it’s current path. Perhaps life would have been happier, easier, less painful. Of course the road not taken is always easier to peer down after events cause tumultuous change and he knew it wasn’t fair to wonder about the ‘what if’s’. Every path brings with it it’s own hardships, follies and happiness, nothing is ever as perfect as it seems.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for abandoning me,” he said aloud, whatever reasons Malcolm had had for leaving, it wouldn’t make up for the pain Robin had had to contend with over the years. The feeling that he should have done something, anything, to try and save those inside the house as it burned to the ground.
Something had sparked within him when Malcolm had revealed himself, all the years of carrying around the boxed in emotions he strived to keep hidden from everyone around him. His life seemed filled with moments of grief over loss, his mother, his father, Swain, the many soldiers who died in the wars, Marian. He felt weak from drawing on the strength to keep himself composed, instead of crying, he’d poured his grief over Marian into gaining revenge against Gisbourne and the sheriff. After his fathers death he’s poured his grief into becoming a man his father may have been proud of, the deaths of fellow soldiers in battle only made him fight all the more harder and ruthless.
The truth was he was tired of being burdened with death, of having to bury another heartache, burying the pain and grief just so he could operate day by day; fuelled by anger and the need to make things right. He chanced a look at Much, so very different to him, perhaps that was why Swain had brought him. Much showed every one his emotions, be he happy, sad, angry, nothing was hidden. When the priest had taken him in, he’d also been grieving the loss of his own father, but where Robin hid his grief from prying eyes, Much had openly grieved. Robin at first had thought it a weakness, but had grown to see it as a strength, Much grieved openly but it helped him move on more easily.
Much was the one person who’d witnessed his tears for his father, a part of the shadows of the night, a hand on his shoulder to offer a consoling support. They’d never spoke of it in the light of day, the nights would pass and with them any witness to tears and crying’s out for what had been lost. Much understood he didn’t wish to speak of it, so he didn’t ask, just made sure Robin knew he was there for him.
Much caught him looking and peered resolutely back, silent, listening. For someone who always had something to say, he had an uncanny knack for being quiet and contemplative when necessary. Robin knew he took it for granted, that he didn’t appreciate it often enough, the luck he had in having Much as his friend.
Crouching down low, he pushed some of the gorse away from the half prone cross, it did little to tidy the grave but it made him feel a little better. They couldn’t stay long, needed to be on the road as soon as possible, but he’d needed to come, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He thought maybe he’d voice his thoughts there, over her grave, as if it would somehow make everything slot into place. Instead he remained silent, unable to get the image of peering into his fathers eyes again out of his head.
Malcolm was gone again and that was what hurt most of all, that he’d have to grieve for him all over again.
“It’s not fair,” he said under his breath, angry, bitter, helpless. He felt transformed to a boy again, unable to straighten out all the questions of why? It wasn’t fair, just bitterly painful. “Why did he come back, why has he done this to me again? How could he put his son through that kind of pain all those years ago? ”
It was okay to be angry there, surrounded by the gorse, hidden by the long grass, it was okay to be bitter and let his guard down, it was okay to wonder why life dealt him so much hardship, dealt him so much loss, caused so much pain inside. Much was crouched down close by, sharing his grief and Robin allowed himself to be held as Much silently listened to questions he wasn’t able to answer, just assured him that he’d never be alone in the world. That there was one person who wouldn’t abandon him despite the hardships.
And Much reminded him, on the privacy of a hillside, where no prying eyes could see, that it was okay to cry.