Sir Guy of Gisborne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
landlesslord) wrote2008-03-29 07:02 pm
landlesslord) wrote2008-03-29 07:02 pm
Episode 1x13 "A Clue: No" Part VI
It wasn't the strong right hook that hit him hardest, it was the sight of her eagerly hurrying away from him down the aisle that winded him. A journey they might have made together, albeit a touch more sedately, had a few moments more passed. In a few months time, if he had had the courage to tell her the truth himself.
Now they would never have that. He had been a fool to think that he could have this one dream, that he deserved this happiness, that he could ever be worthy of such a woman.
And not just any such woman. Marian.
She would never be his Marian. Not now. He would never hold her close to him nor listen to the sound of her breath in the night. He would never see their children born nor grow old with her. He had been a fool to hope. A fool and an idiot.
As he got to his feet he was dimly aware of someone saying they could catch her for him.
He could still feel the impression of the ring on his cheek and dull, warm throb of what would likely turn into a bruise.
She could never be caught; her body perhaps, yes, but never her spirit. Not caught, never caught, never could or would be like one of the Sheriff's caged songbirds.
The ring lay discarded on the reed mat of the chapel floor. Carelessly strewn on the floor without a second thought. Some part of Guy's mind wondered whether her engagement ring had been similarly discarded; his mother's ring, given in trust and in hope.
"No. Let her go."
Now they would never have that. He had been a fool to think that he could have this one dream, that he deserved this happiness, that he could ever be worthy of such a woman.
And not just any such woman. Marian.
She would never be his Marian. Not now. He would never hold her close to him nor listen to the sound of her breath in the night. He would never see their children born nor grow old with her. He had been a fool to hope. A fool and an idiot.
As he got to his feet he was dimly aware of someone saying they could catch her for him.
He could still feel the impression of the ring on his cheek and dull, warm throb of what would likely turn into a bruise.
She could never be caught; her body perhaps, yes, but never her spirit. Not caught, never caught, never could or would be like one of the Sheriff's caged songbirds.
The ring lay discarded on the reed mat of the chapel floor. Carelessly strewn on the floor without a second thought. Some part of Guy's mind wondered whether her engagement ring had been similarly discarded; his mother's ring, given in trust and in hope.
"No. Let her go."