The Savage Damsel and the Knight [Ashers]

[Asher Hardy]

Trust? She trusted him? He would have scoffed at that, found it amusing, but then… What was trust, anymore? It was Rose for God’s sake. Not some random villager, whom he would probably have felt a bit guilty about but would have done his duty, but… He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to. It wasn’t exactly easy. He couldn’t lose her, she was the last bit of family he really had, the last bit that was coherent, anyway. He’d grown up with her – she’d tried to get him over his fear of horses, but it hadn’t really worked, and she’d promised to try again someday; she’d fixed up his wounds while he told her ridiculous stories about how he’d chased outlaws all day, just for a gold coin or a necklace to return to a poor lady; how much he’d wanted to go with her brother to the Holy Land but couldn’t. He wondered if she remembered the day he’d vowed he’d protect her family from the forces at play in Nottingham, and yet here they were, him unable to protect her because she was the damn fool who’d gone and gotten herself into trouble.

So what could trust ever mean now? Asher felt the sick feeling rush up his chest, and the acid from his stomach filled his mouth, making him want to gag. He watched as she tried to seek comfort from his hand, but he’d moved it too quickly. He wouldn’t have been able to handle that, he decided later on. He’d have probably slapped her, to try and get some sense into her head, and then felt guilty about it. Instead she laid her hand on his, and as much as he wanted to jerk it away, he couldn’t bring himself to right now. He needed some comfort, and the only person he went to for such a thing was Rose, yet here she was, the exact problem he needed saving from.

”I…” he started, then closed his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say. Really, what was there to say? The sick feeling rushed up through his body again, this time carrying anger in its wake. She was sorry? She was sorry?! How was that going to make it any better?! Face contorting with the emotion, he pushed himself up off her, collapsing beside her, sitting up but not touching her. He didn’t know if he could handle that, but he didn’t know what he wanted at all. There were so many questions answered now, but so many more to ask. ”When…? Why…?” he kept starting, but it was all too much and he couldn’t finish anything. Too many questions struggling to get out there, to make themselves heard, and he let out a frustrated groan. He punched his leg, ignoring the pain, revelling in it at the same time. Anything to distract him.

”You need to leave,” he finally said, struggling to keep his voice calm. His hands, his entire being was shaking with pent up anger, misery, and numbness. He wasn’t sure what he preferred to feel – maybe it was best to be numb, cold.

(O.O you reply FAST!)

[Rose Barns]

the red HAWK

Rose couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. It was just too hard. One big, fat tear rolled down her cheek and fell nicely into her ear. Her own mouth opened, but then closed as well as she didn’t know what else to say. “Sorry for hurting you and injuring you?” or, “This has all been great fun, now I must leave. See you again soon!” There was nothing left to say. The ball was in his court and he had all the power to direct this where he wanted to.

When Asher shifted and then collapsed next to her, she could not feel the difference. It was as if the weight was still there, pressing down. This was harder than losing her father and then having her mother and brother change so drastically that she didn’t know what to do. She realized just at the moment how important Asher was in her life. She depended on him and she realized how happy she was to see him and to talk to him. She had always been on the look out to see him in the manor and she awaited his visits eagerly. That was a sign of her liking him more than just a family friend, but she hadn’t figured that out until now. But what did it all mean? Would he be able to look at her in the same way again? Gisborne seemed to be able to love Marian even after she punched him and left him at the altar. But that wasn’t the same. Gisborne loved Marian with an obsession. Anyone could see that. She didn’t know how Asher felt about her.

Then two words came out. When, why. Could she answer that? Maybe she could try. “After John came back. I couldn’t support them anymore. And I saw all these people, our people, suffering. And in the Holy Land,” Rose took a deep breath. “In the Holy Land, John said he thought he saw the Sheriff and Gisborne try to kill the King. Robin Hood is fighting for the King and for the people of Nottingham. I couldn’t just stand back because I’m a woman . . .” she trailed off again. Rose was afraid that Asher would blame her and hate her for what she was saying. He didn’t like being woken up to the truth and reality if he thought his truth was the universal truth, though it wasn’t.

Rose winced when he punched his leg and she held out her hand to touch him, but then drew back. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away.

“My clothes, they’re in the stable,” she said, not looking at him. She then took the pouch of Gisbore’s money from her hip and held it out. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this,” she said. And then after a second, she added, Please don’t hate me,” kid of pathetically. It was like a dying man’s last wish.

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[Asher Hardy]

Great, she was crying. Did that mean she was sorry? And for what – sorry for being the Red Hawk, or sorry for being caught? Sorry for not telling him? It wasn't like she could have, anyway, and he still didn't know what he would have done had she come up to him and told him that fact. He didn't know what to do, and it hurt him that he didn't. He liked orders, they made his decisions for him, but the orders from Guy and the Sheriff – capture the Red Hawk – just weren't feasible this time round. Would he really be able to give her up to them? Of course he wouldn't, unless he spent some time convincing himself that it was the right thing to do.

If she asked, Asher wouldn't be able to explain how he felt about Rose, either. At least, not any more. She was family, but she was an enemy. She was his best friend's little sister; she was the girl he taught to fight. She was the person who wrapped up his wounds, the one he could confide in, and the one who could settle his mind at the end of a difficult day. She was the one he cared about the most, and yet, right now, he never wanted to see her face again in this lifetime. He was just too torn to really understand the fight between his head and his heart, and trying to listen to both at once was making him miss most of what she was saying. When he tuned back in to her speech, he scoffed silently. He hadn't really meant for her to start telling him when it had happened, or why it had all happened, and he didn't really care right now, either. It had been rhetorical – no, that wasn't the right word. They had been mere parts of longer questions – When did you decide on something so idiotic? Why would you fight on the other side? – and they were ones he didn't think she'd ever be able to answer sufficiently.

He did listen to her, though. He always listened to her, because she did make good points. She saw things he missed. He just wasn't sure if this time, her observations were entirely accurate. Surely no one would try to kill the King? They wouldn't be that stupid; while no one was necessarily fond of the King, or at least the peasants generally weren't, no one would allow an uprising, and the man had to be protected too well for anyone to try anything on his life. As much as he hated himself for it, he wondered if John wasn't in a worse condition than anyone thought, and if maybe the stress was finally getting to Rose. Looking after her family couldn't be an easy job... Yes, that was it. It wasn't her fault, it was the stress of looking after her family that had driven her to this. It had screwed up her sense of judgement, confused her...

Who was he kidding?

He growled a little as Rose tried to hand back the money. ”What, so you can just come back later and take it again?” he hissed, glaring at the pouch from underneath his fringe, which shadowed his eyes as his head was lowered. The guard desperately wanted to snatch it out of her hands, maybe throw it at her or something, but what if she really was right? What if it was him on the wrong side? He didn't believe it, not really, but he couldn't bring himself to disbelieve Rose. Instead, he ignored the pouch and added ”Just go and get your clothes and leave.”

He put his hand on the floor, pushed himself up, and started towards the door, limping. His leg was beginning to hurt now, he ought to wash it out. Asher was tempted to ignore Rose's plea. Why should he even dignify that with a response, really? Without looking at her, he replied quietly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. ”Why aren't you going, Rose? You don't have much longer.”

[Rose Barns]

the red HAWK

Rose flinched as he growled at her. This day had definitely turned out to be bad. But it almost seemed fated to do so, despite the lovely flowers left at her doorstep from the nice man she had met the night before. She then held back her tears, refusing to look weak. It had been rare for Asher to see her cry, or anyone to see her cry for that matter. Just one little slip and she would never let it happen again. She was strong despite the fact that her heart was breaking and the idea of jumping in the well seemed more attractive – NO. She would not think like that, no matter what. She had her family and it was not the end of the world that she had maybe lost Asher forever. Robin Hood never gave up. Neither would she.

Rose stood, feeling rejected and dejected. She walked over to where her mask lay and she picked it up, almost as if she wished it didn’t exist or like she could possibly hide it, but it was still there. A fact. It no longer felt like a mask to do good. It felt like a betrayal. Rose knew this would hurt Asher, but she wasn’t going to back down and change herself. She was too stubborn for that. So she stared at him as she tied the mask back on and wrapped her hair away from her face. She then sheathed her sword, picked up her dropped weapons and walked toward the window for an easy escape. She would then change in the stables and go back home. There was nothing else she could do here. Asher wouldn’t want to see her anymore. She doubted she see him visiting the Barns family this week. No making him a dinner as he chatted with John and her mother, just sitting there, a smile almost forming on her face.

“I will be here when you need me,” Rose said in a soft, low voice. He might scoff. He might want to hit her, slap her, knock some of his sense in her. But if he truly liked her for who she was, then he would have to like her for this as well. This was who she was. She was no damsel in distress. And he was no knight in shining armor.

Rose then jumped out the window and easily found her way down before slipping off into the shadows, making her way to the familiar stables. Bruises were forming and walking wouldn’t be comfortable, but it wasn’t the same as Asher’s wound and she could feel a sickness overcome her. She would not collapse until she was safe.