If you were granted more time with someone you lost… how would you spend it?
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Day 8: Robin and Roland are reunited.
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Day 8
He was sleeping when Robin finally found him. Tucked away under a thin blanket beneath a sturdy tent, eyes closed and arms wrapped around the monkey he’d yet to separate from since the missing year. He looks as though he hasn’t changed. His curls are still thick and dark, cheeks still chubby, red and dimpled. And those his eyes have not opened Robin knows they are still the same dark brown color that his mother had carried as well. Physically, his son has changed much less than his daughter has. Internally, however, he knows the same cannot be true. In his absence his son had been forced to bury his father. As someone who’d once done the same Robin knows how that sits in a child’s heart. He knows how much it changes a boy, even in the little ways that they’re not yet aware of. And he’s afraid to see how those feelings have manifested in his own son.
They’re alone together in the tent now. Regina had offered to come but he’d wanted a minute just for Roland and himself. As it used to be so long ago.
He reaches out to gently brush a lock of hair from Roland’s forehead. His son stirs but does not wake, and for that Robin is grateful. He has no idea what to say, or how to explain his sudden reappearance. He’s still fearful of that conversation, it’d almost been enough to keep him away. But right now, watching his son sleep so peacefully under the stars he’s glad that Henry convinced him to come. He’s grateful that he’s received this second chance. The chance to be with his son again, even if it’s only for a short while. It won’t be enough he knows that, but it is something. An opportunity. A chance to teach his son the things he wouldn’t have been able to before, to help prepare him for the world a little more and, perhaps, ensure that he is ready for the moment he’s no longer here again.
Eight days ago he and Roland no longer had a future together. Now they do, however short it may be.
He laid down by Roland’s side, letting his arm rest across his middle and his nose to fall against his hair. He knows that it’s midnight and he’s lost another day but they still have 358 left.
And he intends to live them one at a time.
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He lets himself drift into a light sleep. It’s morning when he opens his eyes again and he finds them staring right into Roland’s.
He’s awake and staring at his father with a mixture of confusion, fear and hope.
“Roland…”
“Papa?”
Robin nods, blinking rapidly to stop the tears he can feel burning behind his eyes.
He sees Roland’s chin begin to waver. “I thought you were gone.”
“I know, darling, but I’m back now,” Robin whispers.
He silently prepares himself for the onslaught of questions. The how’s and the why’s and the tears.
But they don’t come.
All that comes is the weight of Roland’s tiny body throwing his arms around his father’s neck.
@the-alpha-incipiens replied to your post “i’m just still here deeply contemplating wish!robin. and his blatant...”
jsyk i hate you for this post. i am already emotionally compromised, kat, why must you do this.
i don’t like suffering alone
(i also very much restrained myself from going on too many tangents, but like, completely ignoring how things inevitably work out on this hellshow for a sec, let’s consider roland -- and robin going from living a life so clearly empty that he spared not a single thought to facing the feared evil queen, to a life where he has a son, a small piece of marian that might’ve been his salvation in his world if he’d had him, had the chance to be a father. and he sees marian in roland’s eyes, in some of his expressions and his soft curls, and it hurts for sure, it hurts like hell that she’s gone, that they never even got to have this sweet boy, let alone raise him together, but then roland smiles and those adorable dimples that are very much robin’s appear, and robin just can’t wait to know him, and he thanks his lucky stars that he’s where he is now)
In honour of this precious piece that gives me all kinds of feels, here’s a little canon-divergent EF AU dedicated to my dear friend, @nephelite. (Shhh: I was gonna pick a different one for the week, but then inspiration took me here. ;))
“R’gina?” the child pipes up, his drooping eyes flying open again. She hums in response, running gentle fingers through thick, soft curls. Whether it’s exhaustion or actual peace that lingers in the room she isn’t sure, but she welcomes it nonetheless—and smiles at this unknown brand of magic the little boy seems to both exude and awaken in her as he stares at her most solemnly. “Are you afraid?”
Regina’s muscles tense, her jaw dropping slightly at the unexpected question, but she musters a small smile for his sake and shakes her head.
“But you were before,” he states, training those dark eyes on her face. “When we met.”
“Oh. I—I suppose I was.” And she can’t believe her own confession, given so freely to this toddler when she’d die before admitting it to anyone else. He’s a sweet, perceptive boy, perhaps too much so—she shudders to think what could have been should someone else have happened upon him first. He’s quite right—she had been terrified. And yet, amazingly, her fears are dulled now, obscured under this peculiar sense of serenity that’s descended upon the two of them like a warm cocoon on a winter’s night. “But not anymore.” Brushing a rebellious lock from his face, she returns an anxious but hopeful: “Are you?”
His reaction is immediate, face splitting into a toothy smile as his simple response shatters Regina’s world and rebuilds it anew in a mere three words:
“Not with you.”
Regina swallows, pushing back burning tears, as he shifts and curls up in her lap, disarming her completely with dimpled cheeks and drowsy blinking. She pulls the heavy
covers around his little body tighter to ward off the slight chill drifting in through the window he insisted they leave ajar because it’ll smell like forest then, see? And it does, and it’s nice, and it must feel like home to him because he’s drifting off again, her fingers lulling him to sleep with soft strokes as she whispers a watery, barely audible:
“Good night, Sir Roland.”
One night. One little slip-up. One stop at a tavern to quench the self-doubt pestering him especially harshly tonight—and now Roland is gone. Slipped from their room and roaming the night god only knows where, presumably in search for the father who never should have left him in Tuck’s care in the first place, heavy sleeper as the friar is.
At twilight there is hope at last. A feather from one of Robin’s arrows surfaces in a dark alley amid soiled laundry spilled from an upturned basket and points to two sets of footprints—one fairly small but decidedly adult, the other no doubt a child’s. They lead him to the forest, where the two become a single set—his son was carried henceforth—and take him all the way to a hidden door to—bloody hell—the royal palace.
Light of foot, Robin sneaks past watchful guards and creaky doors, following that intangible pull of fatherly love.
He couldn’t be more unprepared for the sight that meets him once he reaches the end of the secret corridor and lets himself in.
There’s his boy, his precious Roland, snoring gently on a divan, curled under thick covers, his mop of hair strewn about an ornate cushion, small fists clutching the slender fingers of a woman of stunning beauty.
Robin’s heart soars, and swells, and bursts with sheer love for his son, with gratitude for his benefactress.
He steps closer, seeking the reassurance of touch as he reaches for Roland. His knuckles brush against the dozing woman’s sleeve—and she startles awake.
A small gasp escapes her, breathless and alarmed, but instead of drawing back from the intruder she huddles closer to Roland, shielding him with her own body from the man she clearly perceives to be a threat.
“Milady,” Robin blurts out. “Please, I mean you no harm.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice teeters on the line between plea and command. “You can have my jewellery—just leave the boy alone.”
“I’m not here for jewels,” Robin protests even as his eyes dart about the chambers, taking in details he missed before with dawning realisation, then rest upon his boy peacefully slumbering on her lap. “I’m here for Roland.”
“So you’re not—You’re his father?”
“That I am. Robin of Locksley, at your service.”
His little bow is met with a nod, the air still charged with apprehension, and so he offers: “Roland is lucky to have stumbled upon you.”
She looks down then, smiles wistfully as her fingers toy with his son’s hair.
“Well, actually, it was I who stumbled upon him.”
Regina stared, gasping for air as she clutched her stitch, at the reason her breakneck escape from hollow promises of happiness had just come to a grinding halt.
And it stared back at her in return—dark, wide eyes peering from a basketful of abandoned laundry.
She should be on her way. She should go right away and not look back, flee to the golden cage that is her life to save herself from blind hope and the heartbreak that comes in its wake. What on earth had possessed her to stop to begin with?
And then those wide eyes blinked, and closed, and their owner burrowed themselves deeper in the hiding place they’d clearly given away by mistake, trusting with the innocence of a child in the impenetrability of their cover.
A child, lost and alone in the night.
Tamping down the wild stampede of her heart, Regina stepped closer and drew back rough-spun cotton and coarse linen.
“You can come out, you know,” she said, short of breath still but trying to sound comforting. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re not my Papa.”
“No.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she tacked on an earnest, borderline guilty: “I’m sorry.” Because she wasn’t what this child needed or wanted, and her very existence in that moment loomed over her like the huge disappointment Cora, and then Leopold, had always made her out to be.
The child studied her thoughtfully, squinting up at her against the moonlight. Small hands gripped the rim of the basket, and the little boy hauled himself out almost effortlessly.
“I’m Roland,” he said, sticking out his right hand for her to shake.
“R-Regina.”
She’s halfway through the tale when Robin pulls up a chair, and she’s so engrossed by the child sprawled over her lap she doesn’t even notice.
Once she’s done recounting whatever parts she’s comfortable sharing, an awkward silence stretches between them. She keeps her face downturned, the flickering flames of the dying fire throwing shadows upon her features in an everlasting play of light and dark, and her fingers are busy tracing nonsensical patterns into Roland’s back.
“Thank you for keeping my son safe—Your Majesty.”
If he hoped his little nod to her identity would ease her tangible tension, he was decidedly mistaken. She starts instead, violently enough to rouse Roland at that, and Robin reaches for him on impulse, hand landing gently on his back and rubbing there until the slurred string of sounds ceases and the little man settles again.
So, to a degree, does the queen, whose name he still doesn’t know—or does (for he’s not entirely new to this land), but doesn’t have the permission to use.
“I suppose we should go,” Robin says almost regretfully, caught unawares by the hollowness spreading in his chest at the thought. They should go though. He should part ways with the queen, thank her once again for her trouble and return with Roland to their forest abode.
So why isn’t he standing up?
The queen’s gaze wanders between Roland and him, a slight frown creasing her brow as she worries her lip. She bears the look of one at battle with oneself. The brocade of the cushion brushes his fingers as she digs hers into it.
“You could stay until morning,” she says at last. “For Roland’s sake.”
“We have just tucked him back in,” Robin lets on, something blooming wildly in his chest and eradicating all of that hollowness.
“We have…”
Robin settles in his chair, a hand still resting on Roland’s back just inches from hers, and glances at her face, gentle for Roland but wary of him. They’ve the rest of the night to pass together, and he wants desperately to chase that frown away.
“So…I suppose I still owe you a story of my own, Your Majesty?”
He chances a wink and a half-smirk her way.
Her own smile is a bit forced, a touch contrived, but a smile all the same.
“I suppose you do,” she returns, canting an eyebrow in playful challenge. “And—I prefer Regina.”
They talk through the night and part ways with utmost reluctance at dawn, only for the pair to come knocking on the back of her bookcase by dusk.
The child has claimed Regina’s heart with a single bat of his long eyelashes, and his annoyingly handsome father has begun to worm his way in as well. In their presence, under double exposure to dimples and charm, shadows grow thin and there is laughter again.
By the time Regina spies the lion tattoo, her instinct to run is overcome by the desire to stay in the light.
Bird of Paradise - Joyfulness, magnificence, wonderful anticipation + Planted in Pain
Robin eyed the curious flowers on the tables as he made his way through the reception area. Regina had ordered him to do a final check through and he wouldn’t dare defy her on this day. Weddings always put his wife into overdrive, even more so when they were their childrens’.
Thank god, they’d gotten the flowers right. Roland had been absolutely adamant about having Birds of Paradise. They’d been his favorite flower since he was five years old and he’d first saw them in the florist shop. Robin smiled wistfully at the memory. How can something feel so long ago and just like yesterday at the same time?
He double checked his watch. 30 minutes until the ceremony started. Guests had already started to arrive. He should probably go and mingle but his heart told him to go somewhere else.
Making his way upstairs, he went to see his son in his private dressing room for the day. To his surprise, he found Roland alone looking in the mirror, fixated on his tie for some reason.
Robin smiled, walking over to him. “Hey son.”
Roland shot him a nervous smile. “Hey…”
“Where is everyone?” he asked, looking around the room curiously.
Roland shrugged his shoulders. “Henry went to check on Ella. Alice and Robin showed up so Lizzy went to meet up with them and I’m pretty sure Mom’s yelling at some poor unsuspecting soul who has no idea what they did wrong.”
Robin chuckled, before reaching out to rest his hand on Roland’s shoulder. Looking at their reflections in the mirror he was struck by just how grown up his son looked. Hell, he was almost 28, the same age he’d been when he and Regina had finally adopted Henry.
He saw Roland reach for his tie once again, grimacing. “Maybe I should’ve gone with the bowtie instead?”
Robin shook his head. “You can’t pull off a bow tie. Remember, the whole family had a vote about it.”
The memory of the whole bow tie debacle brought a smile to Roland’s face.
“Guess we can’t all be as blessed as Lizzy,” he quipped, thinking of his younger sister who firmly declared that if she was to stand at the alter with him she’d be wearing a suit same as everybody else.
Robin tilted his head at him. “How are you feeling, Ro?”
His son blew out a sharp breath. “Really nervous dad. Feel like my chest is gonna explode a little but… in a good way.”
“I thought so,” said Robin, nodding his head with a grin. “That’s how I felt the day I married your mom.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Robin assured him. “Felt like I could feel every single heartbeat. It was ridiculous.”
He could still remember how sweaty his palms felt when he’d been standing up at that alter waiting for her to appear. He’d never been so nervous in his life but the moment he saw her… it was like magic. Seeing her he knew he couldn’t have been making a better choice.
“Good to know,” chuckled Roland, letting out a sigh. “How’s Drew doing? Do you know?”
“Your mother and I checked on him. He’s doing great,” replied Robin. “Only half as nervous as you.”
He paused for a beat, thinking of the man his son was going to marry. “You know, he’s a really good man Ro. I’m glad you’re gonna have him.”
“Me too,” mumbled Roland, smiling to himself. “I’m glad you love him. You never liked any of the boys I brought home.”
“Mmm… if we’re being honest some of the girls you’ve brought home weren’t that great either,” he pointed out, earning a belly laugh from his son. “But I like Andrew. He’s a good man, he’s got a good heart and he’s gonna take care of you which is all that I want. I’m truly that pleased that he’s gonna be part of the family… even if he is a criminal defense attorney.”
“Dad…”
“I’m just saying he could’ve chosen a better field of law,” he laughed, along with his son.
Even with the jokes, he knew his son couldn’t have chosen a better match. Andrew was smart, good looking and passionate. He loved sports and cooking. Most importantly, he made Roland a better person. Ever since he’d come into their lives Robin had noticed how much calmer and focused Roland had been and he could only attribute that to the man who held his heart. He couldn’t have hoped for more for his son.
The door to the room opened and in walked Lizzy, a smile on her face. “Hey Daddy!”
“Hey Princess,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Roland was right, she looked good in her dark blue suit and bow tie.
“So…” she drawled, patting her dad on the shoulder. “You need to head downstairs. When I left mom was confronting the caterers and I’m half sure somebody’s dead by now.”
Robin groaned, rolling his eyes. Already he was mentally thinking of ways he could calm down his wife.
Turning to his son, he offered him another proud smile. “Hey… I’ll see you down there, alright?”
“Okay,” Roland nodded his head. “You’ll make sure I don’t trip right?”
“I can’t promise that,” he jokingly replied before heading toward the door. Once he stepped out into the hallway, he let out a deep breath and checked his watch again. Ten minutes until the ceremony started and he and Regina walked their son down the aisle.
From the Planted in Pain verse, where OQ adopts all their kids. After Robin is shot on the job, he and Regina fight over whether or not he should return to the police force. That same night he and Roland talk about whether or not he should go back. Pure Dimples Brigade.
Read on FF.net.
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Robin stills remembers the day he’d signed up to be a cop. His hands had been sweating, his heart had been pounding but he’d never felt so sure of anything in his entire life. He’d spent 22 years dreaming of it, four years in college studying it and he was ready. Nothing was more important to him that getting that badge. And when he did, he’d never been prouder of himself.
He loved his job. And he was so sure there was nothing that could ever convince him to leave it.
Then he got married and had kids.
Regina, Henry, Roland and Lizzy. They’re his life now. And he knew he’d left them petrified when he’d gotten shot. Now the love of his life was asking him to give up his career, the one thing he’d had to be proud of before her. And despite his insistence and firm words… he was actually considering it.
Sitting in the living room at 2am, letting their argument simmer in his head, he thought about what his future would look like if he did as she asked. Got a desk job, quit the force… He wanted to make her happy but he can’t picture it, not in a way that made him comfortable, not in a way that made him feel fulfilled.
But in the back of his head, he heard a voice saying that his family was more important. That if a desk job was what it took to make them feel safe again then so be it.
He was torn.
The sound of the creaky step on the staircase caused him to lift his head. He saw his 13 year old son Roland freezing in place on the steps, eyes wide, clearly surprised to see his father up so late.
“Dad?” he whispered. “What are you doing up?”
Robin raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing up? It’s 2am on a school night son.”
Roland shrugged his shoulders. “I...I got hungry for a midnight snack.”
“Hmm… and does that snack include turning on the tv and staying up for late night television?”
Roland moaned, caught. “The Goonies is gonna be on in ten minutes. I missed it earlier because of homework and I haven’t seen it so long…”
Robin let out a soft chuckle. The Goonies had been Roland’s favorite movie since he was five years old, and they’d shown it to his kindergarten class for Halloween. He’d been the only kid brave enough to smile at the sight of Sloth’s face, instead of cowering in fear.
“It’s late, Roland,” he says. “You know that means you got to watch with the sound off.”
A grin broke out on his son’s face. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he happily declared, plopping down next to his father.
It’s always been hard for him to deny his children small joys. Regina calls him out on it constantly but he can’t help but give in when they ask for that extra scoop of ice cream or small extension on their curfew. So of course, he knows he should send Roland back to sleep but, like the sap that he is, he just turns on the tv and watches as his son smiles up at his favorite movie.
It’s in small moments like this that it hits him, over and over, that he’d almost been taken from them. The scar on his chest burns as he remembers that had he not been so lucky he wouldn’t have been here to catch Roland sneaking downstairs, or to hear Lizzy practice her guitar that afternoon or to help Henry prep for his big debate the day before. He wouldn’t be here to lie next to Regina at night, and feel her breathing in this arm. Had that bullet been an inch to the left or the ambulance one minute later… he could’ve missed everything that was coming next.
He must’ve grown far to quiet for his son’s liking because by the time the gang finds the treasure map he hears Roland whisper, “Dad… are you okay?”
Looking over he sees concern in son’s brown eyes. He’s giving him that look, the same look his birth mother used to give him when they were kids, the one that says what’s going on in your head, please let me know. It’s a look that’s not easily sent away.
Still, he tries. He pulls an unconvincing smile on his face and shakes his head. “I’m fine, Roland. Just tired.”
It used to be so easy to wipe away Roland’s fears. One small platitude and a kiss on the forehead and he’d go calm. But he’d grown up a lot in the past year, in the past month, actually. Turns out his youngest son isn’t quite so easy to convince anymore.
“Is mom mad at you?” he asks. “Because you want to go back to work?”
Robin scrunches his eyebrows, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Why would you think that?”
“Because we have thin walls and mom can’t whisper when she’s mad,” Roland pointed out.
He lets out a small puff of breath, reluctantly nodding his head. “Well that is true, her angry voice is not a quiet one,” he wryly chuckles.
Roland turns to him, still concerned. “Is that why you’re down here so late? She sent you to the couch?”
“No,” Robin immediately shakes his head. He pats Roland’s knee. “Mom and I are fine, we’re just having a little disagreement. And I needed some time to think about things. Don’t worry about it, everything is gonna be fine.”
He sees his son press his lips together, nervous before asking, “Are you going back to work Dad?”
Robin hesitates, fearful of the worry in his son’s eyes, unsure of what to say next. He takes a deep breath. “Are you ready for me to go back to work, Roland?”
With a small shrug of his shoulders, Roland shakes his head, staying silent.
“You scared for me?” Robin asks.
“A little bit,” Roland admits. “Seeing you in the hospital… was hard and scary.”
“I know,” Robin says, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “I know that was rough for all of you. But I promise that I am better now. The doctors took care of me and I am fine.”
Roland nodded his head. “I know.”
His words were soft and solemn, Robin could feel the hesitation in them. Simply wanting to comfort him he mumbled. “Well I don’t have to do go back, if that’s best. I could do other things.”
“Other things like what?”
“I could work at my desk, you know, provide support to other officers in the field,” he lamely suggests. “You know Uncle John said I could work at his security company, so I could do that too.”
He tries to sound enthusiastic for Roland’s sake but honestly, both those opportunities make him want to die inside. John had been throwing the idea of a security job at him for years, he’d always refused. The pay was better, the hours were easier, and there would certainly be less bullets flying at him but he’d never considered taking it before. He didn’t want to protect buildings and merchandise, he wanted to protect people. That was all he’d ever wanted up until he took one in the chest and nearly lost his life. He didn’t like the idea of working security but he couldn’t deny it might be better for his family now.
“So… you won’t be a police officer anymore?” Roland twists up his face at the idea of it. His father had been a cop for as long as he could remember and before. He couldn’t really imagine him doing anything else.
“I don’t have to be a police officer to do good,” Robin says. “Besides with better hours I could spend more time with you and everyone else.”
Roland took in his father’s word, went silent for a moment, then suddenly declared, “I think you should go back to work, Dad.”
Robin’s head reared back, stunned at that confidence in his thirteen year-old son’s voice. In the glow of the TV screen his face was calm and certain as he continued to speak.
“You know Henry took us, me and Lizzy, to the NICU when you were in the hospital,” he says.
“He did?”
“Yeah, he thought having us see all the babies that were hooked would help Lizzy not be afraid when she saw you and all the wires,” he explained. “He told us about how you found him when his birth parents died.”
Robin sighed, remembering the day when he’d first seen his oldest son. He was in a car wreck, still strapped into his car seat while his parents lay dead in the front seat not two feet away from him. It’d been his scariest night on the job, he’d been so afraid that the baby he found wasn’t going to make it.
“It made me think,” said Roland. “You know when I was a kid and you used to show up to pick me up from school in your uniform, and it always made me feel like the coolest kid in school because my dad was a hero and nobody else could say that.”
“And it is cool knowing that but hearing Henry talk about how you found him… it makes it more real,” Roland mumbles. “It was scary knowing that you got hurt but you help a lot of people Dad, people who matter to other people like Henry matters to us, and I don’t want you stop. I like having a hero for a dad, even it means I get scared once in awhile.”
Robin’s throat went tight as he listened to his son speak. He realizes then that Roland, his curly-haired, bright eyed young son has started to make the turn, from wide eyed innocent boy to maturing young man. He never expected to have that moment with the Goonies playing in the background.
He smiles, reaches out “You know… you are incredible kiddo.”
“So I’ve been told,” Roland replied, flashing his signature show stopping grin.
“Well, nothing’s set in stone yet,” sighed Robin. “You know there’s a lot to talk about with your mother and everyone else.”
“I know,” said Roland, nodding his head. He was old enough to know that there would always be someone in the house unhappy with some decision that had made.
“But everything’s going to be okay though, I promise you that,” said Robin.
Roland smiled at his father, all the worry gone from his eyes, knowing that his dad made promises all the time but somehow he’d never broken one. Everything was going to be okay.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
For Film (@maythavee), Franzi (@soligblomma), Laura (@whizz-bee) and Julie (@deuxieme-etoile-a-droite) who always want to read more of this story, and to everyone who is still eager to read the continuation!
Lithi
(Greek) From Ancient Greek λήθη (forgetfulness, being forgotten, oblivion)
Roland climbed the steps two at a time. His legs hurt, but he didn’t want to stop.
“Roland, slow down! Wait for me!” Lizzie told him from the bottom of the staircase.
Roland planted his feet on the carpet once he reached the next floor and turned around to look at his friend.
“But I want to go now!” he said with a pout.
“But your legs are taller than mine and you’re faster. I can’t keep up with you,” Lizzie said.
Roland grinned, showing his dimples. “You’re here now,” he said.
Lizzie reached the top of the staircase and both kids stood there for a few moments to catch their breath.
Roland was the first one to start walking again, with measured steps this time.
“Where are we going?” Lizzie asked.
“You’ll see.”
Lizzie followed Roland in a part of the castle she didn’t recognize. The corridor they walked in was a few floors under the royal chambers where she was staying along with Roland, but at a different side of the castle, one that was directed to the south.
The carpet was elegant and fluffy; they could feel their shoes sinking in its softness. The walls were covered by dark red wallpaper that had gone green in some spots. Roland could smell the fungus and remembered Regina saying that despite the window at the far end, the corridor was never kissed by the sun and the humidity could make it suffocating if no one took proper care of it. Large paintings covered the walls, symmetrically placed along the corridor, their gloomy colors fitting in the darkness.
The ticking of a clock could be heard from the middle of the corridor and Lizzie frowned when she noticed it.
“It’s almost lunchtime. They’ll be looking for us,” she said
“We’re almost here,” Roland told her with a confident nod.
Roland looked right and left until he spotted a specific painting. He stopped and turned towards it; Lizzie stopped right beside him. The painting illustrated a meadow with several wild horses scattered around, some browsing happily, some standing proudly with their forelocks and tails flowing in the wind. Roland stared at the painting in awe. It had been a long time since he’d seen it and it would always remind him of Regina, of her fascination for horses and her wide smile every time he saw her ride one.
“Roland?”
Lizzie’s voice took him out of his reverie.
“We have to reach the secret handle now,” Roland said, his eyes focused on the top of the painting. He looked at it with a trouble expression on his face. “I can’t reach it,” he said, his voice coming out breathless and higher than before. “Lizzie, we can’t reach it!”
Roland’s eyes filled with tears and he was finding it hard to breathe.
“Roland? What is it? Can I help?” Lizzie asked.
“Roland?” she repeated when she got no answer, tears forming in her own eyes as well.
“I should have known I wouldn’t be able to go in! I have to go in!” Roland shouted at the painting, making Lizzie gasp and take a step back.
“Roland, let’s go to the dining room,” Lizzie said, tears now falling freely from her eyes.
Roland sniffed and took a step towards the painting. He brought his hand up and caressed one of the horses with his fingertip.
“I should be able to go in,” he said, his sniffs quickly turning into sobs.
“What is in there?” Lizzie asked.
“It’s a room. Regina’s secret library,” Roland said after a few minutes, when the sobs had subsided enough to let him speak.
“Who is Regina?”
“She was… my other mama,” Roland said, rubbing his eyes furiously with his fists.
“Is she with your papa and your mama up there?” Lizzie asked, pointing her finger upwards.
Roland took a sharp intake of breath.
“No! She’s just in another world,” he said.
“Oh.”
“I wanted to go to her library, because I’ve been there before and I know where I can find some useful things. She has magical things and you can use them to make potions. I wanted to make a remembering potion so that I never forget.”
“Forget what?”
“My papa. Regina. My sister. Henry. Home.”
Roland whispered the last word. He wasn’t sure if home was a place or just a thought. He had forgotten how it felt to have a place where he could feel happy and he wasn’t sure whether home actually existed.
Lizzie nodded in understanding and that surprised him.
“You won’t forget,” she said firmly.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“Because I haven’t forgotten. I still remember my mama’s hug and beautiful voice singing to me every night. Her eyes, her smile and her love.”
The tears were still shining in Lizzie’s eyes, but now her expression was serene.
“I don’t remember my mama at all,” Roland said miserably.
“And I don’t remember my papa. But you remember yours and your other mama. They’ll be with you forever.”
“Regina told me that my papa will always be in my heart.”
“That’s true,” Lizzie said and gave Roland a reassuring smile before offering him her hand.
Roland took it without hesitation and they started walking to the staircase slowly.
Comfortable silence surrounded them on their way to the dining room, but Roland’s thoughts were loud. He thought of Lizzie’s words and his papa talking to him softly every night before sleep took him. He thought of Regina’s hugs and freshly baked apple pie. The memories were painful, but Roland thought hard and wordlessly promised his papa that he would never stop thinking about them.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
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Aeonian | Basil
Chaos
From Ancient Greek χάος (abyss, that which gapes wide open, is vast and empty)
A warning scream.
Panicked voices.
Frantic footsteps.
Roland woke up feeling disoriented. He was in Tuck’s tent, but Tuck was nowhere to be seen. Roland opened the tent’s cover just a little to see what was going on. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the image in front of him in horror.
More screams, more people running.
Flying arrows everywhere.
A fire burning at the edge of the camp.
Suddenly a big figure stood in front of the tent and the terrible images disappeared.
“Come on, we have to go,” Little John said, his voice urgent but steady.
Roland blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision from the tears – tears from the smoke or from waking up abruptly when the night turned into day, he wasn’t sure. He acted quickly, put his boots on over his sleeping pants and lunged out of the tent. Little John lifted him up and carried him to a nearby clearing. The arrows were still being shot around them, but Roland felt safe in Little John’s arms.
But then Little John was gone. Roland was left at the clearing with two women and their children. The women held weapons, but the children – a few years older than Roland – looked scared and vulnerable. Roland wondered why he didn’t feel that way. After the initial shock all he thought was that he wanted to help. He glanced at the camp, at the sea of men fighting and blood spattering. His eyes got wide with terror, but something strange flowed freely in his veins and he wanted to be there in the action, he wanted to be a hero like his papa was.
With the women and children focused on the battle in front of them, Roland found a chance to slid behind them and reached the Merry Men’s weapon stash. He was about to grab a single arrow when two large hands grabbed his waist from behind.
“No! NO!” Roland yelled and squirmed in the stranger’s arms, unsuccessfully trying to get away.
“Look what we have here,” the man said in Roland’s ear, his breath reaching the boy’s cheek and nostrils, the stench of it making bile rise in Roland’s throat.
The man’s hands were wrapped tightly around his body and Roland was finding it hard to breathe.
“PAPA!” Roland shouted, a fruitless attempt, he knew it after the word left his mouth, because his papa wasn’t there, he would never be there again. Roland started sobbing at the realization, dry sobs that were followed by fat tears falling on his cheeks, salty and warm.
“Regina,” Roland whispered after a bit, after the man took off and started running away from the camp. Because his papa wasn’t alive, but Regina was. Roland sobbed even harder because she was alive, but she wasn’t there either; the Queen who saved him the last time they were in that world wasn’t there just like his papa wasn’t there.
Everything happened really fast. A familiar sound, then the man was on the ground and Roland in Little John’s arms again. Little John started running towards the opposite direction of where the man had attempted to take Roland. Roland looked above Little John’s shoulder and noticed an arrow buried deeply into the man’s chest. He averted his eyes and looked at Little John’s face instead. The kind man, the strong giant, his papa’s friend and now his protector, was crying.
