Author Notes: Based on the Prince of Thieves. This story is kind of spur of the moment, coming from the fact there are not enough Will Scarlett stories that are about him and Robin, and not him and a random Mary-Sue. I'm going to write and expand each major scene for his character, and then, depending on how I feel, maybe carry on after the movie. I know this has been done before (especially the amazing piece of writing by YLJedi) but I hope this takes the idea in a new direction. This beginning's quite short, but I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing...

Oblivion of Lies

Prologue

All my life I have run. Kept on running, never let myself be tied down to a friend or love for too long. It's self preservation; the only way I can get through life. I found that out the hard way. Too late I realised that life was not all sun and roses, that fairy tales are lies of deluded old fools. I watched my mother waste away under the false hope of a better life, for me and for her. I watched her sit, day by day, staring listlessly out of our tiny hovel, waiting for a man who would never come. Each day she would tell me, "Today's the day, William, he'll forgive me today."

Forgive her? That bastard deserved my mother's forgiveness, not the other way round. When I was younger, I used to believe her. Believe the stories of a star-crossed love, seen through my mother's eyes. She would tell of how their class status had driven them apart, how the old nobleman I must call my father had desperately wanted to keep her and me, but in the end saw her naïve and pitiful unworthy state of being. She actually believed that crap. My mother was more worthy than him, and by far more worthy than that rich brat half brother of mine. That cowardly man couldn't face his son's whining. He used my mother and threw her to the dogs, to be named a whore. And so I was forced to live my life a bastard son of some unknown man, and watch my mother waste away under a shroud of depression. I was ten years old when she died. Old enough to hate everything that my blood stood for.

Because you see, that's part of the problem. I hated Locksley. I hated his son. But I loathed the fact that they were still part of me, and I of them. Because however much you run, the truth is always inside you.

"Give me your name first." John, our leader, breathing hard, facing the rich man who had bested him.

"Robin of Locksley." Three words to bring my carefully constructed net of secrets crashing down.

As it turns out, you can never run far enough.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review:)