Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood and I don't make any money from this.
Summary: I know these are not that popular with many people but...
This is a story about Rape and humiliation. This is not misunderstood, sensitive, good lover Guy; this is angry, frustrated, brutish Guy. Be prepared, although she obviously cares for him, it is painful.
Elias moved out of his line of sight. She was tired, hearing of the debacle that was meant to be his wedding to the Lady Marian, she knew he would be angry and looking for people to take that anger out on.
She felt for him, he wanted the pretty lady and all she would bring him. He wanted the respect and deference he would attain from such a good match.
Elias did not feel jealousy; she would never have his heart and certainly never his name. Nevertheless, she had his body, when he wished it. Not that it was always pleasant, only sometimes did she have pleasure, and she was sure he did not know her name.
At least now had a care now not to spill his seed in her, which she was grateful for. After Annie the kitchen wench had given him a son, there had been a great tado. He had paid one of his men to take the babe to York to be brought up in the Church, but made the mistake of giving the man his fee before he left.
Arnold, a kitchen churl, told her that the man had left the child in the forest to die, then run off with the money. A gang of Wolfsheads found the boy and spread the lie that the Master at Arms had paid to have his own son killed thus.
But why would he? Many men had bastards; oft times they even bore their sires names. No shame was attached to the father, only the mother; it was the way of things. Annie now had two copper pennies a month from him, and a good position as a laundress in Newark, his son safe in the care of the monks. Not at all what the stories told.
Arnold knew all this to be true because his brother was now courting Annie.
The man who had left the child to die had been hunted down and a dagger plunged through his faithless heart.
Guy of Gisbourne was not a man to be crossed.
The first time Elias had seen him he was on horse back. He looked so handsome, so dark and dangerous that her heart misbeat. She had held fast to the doorpost in her disquiet. He had glanced in her direction, smiled as he turned away. No matter that there was a look of slyness there, it was a smile upon those lips and she had caused it.
Her fear kept her away from the upper part of the castle. She was the second seamstress, a respectable position that meant she was not expected to serve meals, clean, run errands, or warm any ones bed. She had a worthy trade, the pay was tolerable good and she shared a room only with Amilia, the first seamstress.
The second time she saw him was when Amilia was away tending her dying father. Elias was called upon to stitch a wound, his wound.
The chamber was hot; he lay naked, sweating and inert. The gash was long and smooth, from hip to knee. It was clean, but the Doctor thought the stitching of it, beneath him.
She tried not to look at him there, but 'twas impossible not to. The sight frightened her even more.
Though aware of what was expected, she had only done this once before; she knew it would cause him pain, and this was Sir Guy of Gisbourne, the sheriffs Master at Arms, a man to be feared. If she made a mistake, tore his skin, what then?
But she had sewn her best stitch, small and neat. A week later Amilia had removed the tiny silk threads, and told her the scar was one of the best she had seen.
The third time she had seen him was the night of a banquet for the Black Knights. She had been forced to serve as two of the serving wenches had run off in fear. This did not help Elias's own fears.
Staying as far back as possible, she scurried about, keeping her head bowed, hunching herself over, hopeful that she would go un-noticed. The other maids brazened it out and received wet kisses, slapped behinds and the occasional coin for their trouble, but Elias wanted only to be away from his disturbing presence.
But fate had a different future mapped out for her.
She passed the side of his chair, gripping a bowl of figs; he reached for the fruit absently, and sent it flying. Elias stumbled, hurrying to clear the mess.
There was the unexpected sound of silver plate crashing to the ground and the sheriff's hated laughter as he once again insulting his Master at Arms. Sir Guy stood abruptly, his chair fell back and he was on top of her, a look of fury and disgust on his face. He hauled her away, gripping her upper arm savagely. Elias found herself dragged behind the Great Arras and forced against the wall.
"Lift your skirt" He had bitten out as he loosed his britches with one hand, his other arm across her, holding her tight against the cold stone.
She found she could not move, this could not be happening. The smell the wine, sour upon his breath.
He was not handsome now, the ugliness she saw stunned her. Intolerant of her delay, he shoved the coarse fabric up himself, and was gratified by the lack of impediments. His sharp nail caught her thigh and she winced, the life coming back to her
"No...Please sir...No!" She tried to push him from her, but he was huge to her small frame.
He paid her no heed.
Harsh, callused fingers prodded her delicate flesh, she winced in pain. The chuckle was low and drunken. He bent close, whispered hoarsely in her ear: "A maid are you? Ha, then I will unburden you of that title!" He gripped her slender hips, and lifting her off her feet, forcing himself into her young body, grunting like a beast.
It was over quickly. Abruptly he let her down and stood back, breathing hard, he cuffed his mouth on his sleeve, sniffed, looked down at her as he retied his britches.
Her eyes were wide with fear, but tears were held bravely back.
He swallowed and looked away, then anger flaring again.
"Keep your self clean...I'll want no other man's leavings." He moved away, and she slumped. He turned sharply back and shoved a coin into her hand.
When he had gone, she ran to the darkest, deepest corner she could find. There she cried and hid herself in shame.
It had begun