I've been meaning to write for this fandom for like, EVER. I really have always been a big Robin Hood fan, and was shocked at how little people write for this fandom, or will start a story and not finish them (then again, I have like four unfinished stories…). I am going to try my first serious fic. Meaning, I am accepting flames (though I don't like them) also, I will try and keep my normal and expected pun to a minimum.
So, this is my first really dark and tragic fic that's based on one little twisted thought I had after a caffeine spree:
What if Will hadn't gotten the arrow out of his hand?
There are so many stories written about Robin Hood and his ever-creepy little brother Will Scarlett, and even more on the scene in which Will gets annoyed at Robin, tries to knife him in the back, then Robin shoots him straight in the center of his hand. In fact, this fandom is basically completely that. But in all of them, no one thinks of the possibility that the arrow could have shattered every bone in his hand? Or maybe it could have completely severed a main vein causes terrible blood, forcing him to remove his own hand?
Well, as this is a website for could and maybes to be expressed, I give you, FortisCor,(FYI, Latin word for strong heart)
Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood: Prince of Theives, Robin Hood, Will Scarlett, or any other such characters.
He defended himself, was that so bad?
It hurts like hell.
Locksley called him a coward. A bloody coward in front of all his friends, the people he cared about. Will had to defend his name.
It's not fair.
And now, Will knew where he stood among his 'friends' as he watched from his perch in the trees as Little John and Robin sat among the merry men plotting something around a bonfire with oddly worried expressions that Will didn't understand.
He took everything.
Will knew thought like that were for the weak and childish, but that's what every thinks he is now, right?
He looked at his still bleeding hand. The arrow still lingered, Will didn't has the strength to remove it, and it no doubt was dreadfully infected. He knew there were several broken, possibly shattered, bones. Will knew he had two chooses:
He could go get help from the men.
He shook his head and gave a depressed chuckle, then quickly caught himself before he fell from the tree.
Will would never go back to Locksley's men now. Robin wouldn't refuse him help, in fact, he would probably be glad to help. But, if he did that, Will knew he forever be known as the man who dared defy the great Robin of Locksley by trying to stab him in the back, got injured for it, and came back begging the archer for forgiveness. Will would only go back if they came for him, which was very unlikely.
So that left Will with one choose:
He was going to kill himself, before his wound killed him.
Yes, Will smiled to himself as he quietly exited the tree and walked away from the bonfire and the men, Suicide is the perfect death for a coward with no one to look for him.
Will stumbled over a branch, landing on the forest floor on his injured hand.
"Argh!" he cried, not really caring if the men heard him or not, as to them he was a coward and they surely wouldn't come to help him.
Will struggled to his feet, injured hand hanging limp at his side, and walked towards the oh so familiar river, not hearing the sound of the rapid footsteps made by worried men moving after him.
Robin regretted what he did. It was only on reflex that he shot the boy.
Against the popular idea, Robin didn't hate Will in the slightest. Yes, sometimes the boy pushed him a bit over the edge, but Robin Hood did not hate Will Scarlett.
The prince of thieves couldn't hate Will because somehow, Will reminded him of his father.
He didn't know if it was the way his eyebrows would curve up a little bit when finding something interesting, or the slight, fiendish smile that just reeked "I know something you don't and I plan on exploiting it", or even the obvious, but chosen to ignore, similarities in appearance between him and the boy, but Will somehow made him think about the brave old man whom he had the privilege of calling 'father', though never did so much in his presence.
Robin had shot Will's hand as a defensive reflex and nothing more, but now it was Robin's job to find the boy, who had run off before he could get help, and get Will medical treatment.
He must be pretty bad by now, thought Robin to himself, The blood loss is one thing, but the mental damage of having a damn arrow stuck in your hand must really do some damage.
Robin and the others, though Will didn't realize it, were searching for him high and low. Though the veteran outlaws knew the knife-throwing master thief was prone to disappearing at the oddest times, everyone was severely scared that Will would do something stupid, like rip the arrow out or succumb to the pain and do something he would regret.
Now all the Robin, Little John, Much, Bull, a few others were gathered around the bonfire, looking at a crude map of the forest, trying to figure out where in the name of God was Waldo- uh I mean Will, (A.N.-Sorry, couldn't help it…) as the woman tried to make a home out of the forest.
"Did you hear that?" Little John asked, standing up from his leafy seat on the ground.
Robin looked at him hopefully, "What is it?"
"Hey I heard it too," said Bull, "It sounds like it's coming from over there." He pointed to a few trees left of them in the woods.
They all were silent, hoping to hear their injured comrade walk out of trees like always so Fanny could scold him for scaring them like that and Will would say a witty yet mysterious statement that boggled all their minds. But instead they were met with their worst fear as a pain filled scream shattered the air.