Selfish Pt.6 - Sheriff of Nottingham x Reader (Robin Hood 2018)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5
Authors Note: I finally got to the end of all my third person notes! Does anyone object to a change to second person suddenly and randomly in part 7...? I think it makes more sense... ANYWAYS! I finally got here! To the point I wanted to get to-! I wrote some of this last January, isn’t THAT crazy-!? Disclaimer: Robin Hood characters / plotlines not mine / lyrics not mine. Premise: In the aftermath of their night together things appear to get better - but, things are seldom what they seem. Her own observations lead to his shocking revelation, and something she will never forgive... And he knows now, there is only one way to keep her. Words: 4978 Warnings: Sheriff’s Backstory / Abuse TW Third Person Reader Insert
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He drowns in his dreams An exquisite extreme I know He's as damned as he seems And more heaven than a heart could hold And if I try to save him My whole world could cave in Oh and I don't know I don't know what he's after But he's so beautiful Such a beautiful disaster And if I could hold on Through the tears and the laughter Would it be beautiful Or just a beautiful disaster He's magic and myth As strong as what I believe A tragedy with More damage than a soul should see And do I try to change him So hard not to blame him He's soft to the touch But frayed at the ends he breaks He's never enough And still he's more than I can take
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All the power in this city was hers. Whether she knew it or not. William needed her – and realised it – even if he was constantly walking a knife’s edge between having her right where he wanted her, and pissing her off. She was taking his guard from strength to strength, and they’d been rolled out into her new plans and strategies for a number of months now. She was taking her lessons with Tuck to a whole new level, and now she was beginning to learn as much from the Sheriff as he was from her. Which meant they were now talking to each other in Norse, on occasion, and she was proud of that. She couldn’t exactly say she quite understood the idea of religion in England yet, but she would at least arrive to church with him on Sunday’s and pretend she knew what was going on. She was still stuck in her own room, but she preferred it that way. For now. Yes, she wanted that feeling back, but she knew better than to give into it so many times before she got a ring on her finger. But he rode with her now - not always – but when he could the Sheriff would ride with her; back and forth to church, and sometimes around the streets in Nottingham proper. She wanted him that close to her – so she could show him more than just on a piece of parchment what she’d decided on for his city defences. But she wasn’t sure who was the steadier when she saw him ride; him or Vesper. There was something about that horse that said war, whether that made sense to her or not. And she realised how little Wil shared about his past; how much combat had he seen on English soil…? Or overseas? Had he been to the crusades that he was now helping to finance? Not these ones – it was as much obvious to her that he was needed here. But this was also not the first crusade… Vesper was steady in crowds, and not easily startled, tall and well built. She couldn’t help but smile at that, she trusted this horse with her man, as much as she would have to trust herself. Riding with him in the open like this could be dangerous for him… But if his horse wouldn’t spook, the two of them would easily dispatch assailants. And she wanted William to not have to worry about anything, whilst her eyes wandered up to every roof and down every ally. More than anything, it gave them freedom – away from the palace he was much more candid with her – he smiled more, he laughed more… and that was before she got him out of the shade of the Church. And then it was like the Sheriff was a totally different man. And there was a pang that ran through her heart at watching him then, because she knew this was not a man the people saw… it certainly wasn’t the man she got to see; but she wanted to. Given her freedom, and the fact that William had also not yet introduced her to the people of Nottingham (at least not formally), she was able to slip out of Nottingham proper, and explore for herself. And these explorations led her down to the people of the mines. Of course, only Marian and Will knew who she really was when she was down there – but they introduced her to people that mattered. And she quickly got to know the ways of the world in which she was living. Everything they told her she kept in the back of her head; useful information above all else – and matters it sounded like William wasn’t exactly taking much interest in. But if she brought it to him… what of it then? Mostly, she liked being down in this part of the city because of the structure. And because she was invisible. No one down here was being told to keep an eye on her, nor knew what she was up to. She could travel independently, and do whatever she liked. Running down streets like this, where there was dirt beneath her feet and not solid stone, climbing to the roofs and jumping from building to building when they were made of wood - infrastructure she was much more familiar with - she felt like she was home. And it made her as homesick as it did happy. Today she picked the highest tower she could find and scaled it in mere minutes. From up here she could see far beyond the walls of Nottingham, to the forests and fields that lay just out of reach. If Wil didn’t want her here, then there was no way he would allow her to go out there. She didn’t feel trapped by him – but if he wanted to utilize her to the best of her ability. If he wanted to know her, if he wanted his people to know her, keeping her within these walls wouldn’t do him any favours. The Sheriff had mentioned to her and her father that he had jurisdiction over many towns and cities outside of this one. And if she stood up here for long enough, sometimes the conditions would be just right for her to see a few of them on the horizon. She wondered what the people in those towns and cities were like. If they held the same feeling for her husband-to-be as the people here did, if they were kind and honourable… or if they were like some of the rich that she had met here and would rather Wil didn’t associate with. These were questions she would have to ask him sooner or later. He hadn’t found reason to leave the city yet whilst she had been here, and maybe because of her, but what when there was reason? Would the Sheriff take her? What if she gave him reason…? What if that reason was her… ***
Ultimately Church did nothing for her except heighten her worry for him. She enjoyed being in his company there, how he would link their arms and hold her hand. Sometimes he would quietly explain things to her and tuck stray strands of hair behind her ear. And sometimes the Sheriff would simply watch her, as she stood in respectful silence and listened to the sermons, or smiled when all voices rose together in hymn. But also at the way her eyes would wander to the great multicoloured glass windows. Wil had noticed the unfathomable wonder on her face the first time he had walked in here with her and the sun had been hitting them all just right. Stained glass, he’d explained to her, all the images Holy, and painstakingly created. And the way she’d giggled like a child when the colours had danced over her skin. He savoured that. Because anything that could make his own church going experience better was a literal God send to him… But there was so much about the Church that he still hated. And even with her there making things better, there was much that still made this so painful for him. It was too engrained in him now… and how was the Sheriff supposed to explain that when an uncomfortable shudder ran through him and she turned, feeling it herself? How her lips would part but no question was ever asked. And even when it was all over she never did. He bit his lip, and gathered her closer to him, stroking a hand through her hair – because he had to thank her for that, even if he too, didn’t say it out loud. Too good for me… Too good for this… She wondered from time to time why he got so tense, how he'd shrug his shoulders or rub them. She wasn't sure whether he was trying to get comfortable or whether he was genuinely in pain... He also didn't like people in close proximity: she noticed he didn't mind getting into people's personal space, it was when Wil couldn't see them that was the problem; he'd likely turn so they were at least within his peripheral vision. If they were behind him there was an unspoken rule that you did not get to close; and he would often turn to check on the people behind him even in church. In fact church was where she noticed it irked him most... She didn't even need to be on his arm to feel the tension flowing through him, and it didn't stop all service. She wondered if that was because people stood too close and he couldn't do anything about it, but it made her wonder what his problem was with people... She also wondered how to voice the question she had. She also noted that he would press his back up against his chair, or leave little room between him and a wall, or him and a table or pillar, especially when talking to anyone of note. Because when he was talking to the people of Nottingham he was above them, and he could walk around on that balcony like he owned the place. And try not to falter if he ever caught a glimpse of the church... It was then she noticed he'd also shirk away from alcohol. One kind in particular. Everything else he had covered.
And she became curious as to if they were related...
She was still uncertain as to where his allegiance was. She knew from Tuck that he'd been to confession more than once since their first night together about his lack of monogamy... But she also knew that he wanted to keep her around a lot of the time now. And he was getting both her and Tuck to teach him her culture, Norse History, her own language. That’s how he was getting so good, and Tuck told her this himself, because more than anything, he wanted to be able to deliver her something a little more encouraging than the Sheriff’s latest confession… Wil was quick to master anything logical and the more she spent time with him the more everything she already thought she knew was confirmed. He was masterful at numbers, he wrote most of what he spoke with little guidance, and politically he was a genius - he knew both what to say and how to say it. The Sheriff could ride, she'd only seen him do it out of necessity (or because she practically begged him) but he rode gracefully and mastered his horse well. She guessed that he was probably born into nobility, but he never really talked about his family either. The only thing she couldn't fathom was his lack of any kind of warrior’s presence – that intuition - Wil wasn’t built correctly; his brain and his logic didn’t work that way... He had the qualities, the skills, but absolutely nothing practical to show for it. Quickly she gathered that he was calculating about her too; what she could do here. That she could be that side of him - it would be a role reversal of nearly every other courtship. But God did he know it would work. Who would expect her to be a Shield Maiden? She would be perfect. Hell, wasn’t she already doing a mighty fine job?
**
After a particularly hard day at church, where he was more antsy about it than usual, she knew she would have to confront it. She followed behind him, but not too close, all the way back through the castle. He'd already snapped at everyone else for following him and it was starting to get to the point where he was yelling, which made her hang back even more. Wil got to his door and stopped. He let out a sigh and turned back to her.
She took a step back; “I can go…” she didn't meet his eyes, staring at the floor He shook his head “No...No... I'm sorry... Come...” The Sheriff inclined his head and she followed him into his room. He could read her well. Of course he could, his business was politics and reading people. “Darling... Something is troubling you... What is it?” She opened her mouth and hesitated, “I'm sorry... I just... I shouldn't trouble you with this...” He raised his eyebrows, and tipped his head forward; are you sure? “You can tell me... Anything.” She hesitated, and then decided it was make or break “... I just... I could help but notice, and my father always said I was the observant warrior, not an ask questions later one; able to read weaknesses and exactly how to move to-” She paused and shook her head realising she was getting off track, “I digress, that could be something this city needs methinks. But... At first I thought it might just be a church, faith, related issue. Because I feel how tense you are even when you are not holding onto me. And I understand there is weight to your faith even without your position... But, I also noticed how you don't like turning your back to people, and you keep yourself pretty well protected. However, what I also know is it is not just tension. I can read it on your face, often whatever it is, is painful and...” She trailed and looked to the floor, “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I shouldn't be saying any of this... I just...” She whispered it, “Observed it. I shouldn't have bothered you, Sir, forgive me.” She turned to go but he stopped her; “Y/N. Stop.” She turned back to him, to that curious yet hesitant look on his face “You observed all this?” “Not in a way that you... You don't make it obvious I just... I want to help if... I can...” Though right now, she wasn’t sure even if people did notice it, that they would really have cared about him. The Sheriff tilted his head, if he wanted a future with her, she had to know everything, and he meant everything. Wil advanced on her, taking her hands; “You have every right to know the answer to your question...” He trusted her enough, he knew. “For us to have a future together, you must know the answer to your question...” The Sheriff took a few steps back and turned away from her, shrugging himself out of his leather coat and over-shirt. He swivelled back to her, thinking on something, “Answer me honestly. When we lay together, you didn't touch my back. Why?” She was taken aback slightly by his line of questioning, and the startling look in his blue eyes; hadn't she? “…It was not an entirely conscious decision. Maybe I was more observant than I thought...” His smile was small, “No one… touches me there, or, ever sees this. You- You're not everyone, Y/N, you are my future...” Wil turned back, and even she wasn’t sure she was prepared for what she might see.
He pulled his black undershirt over his head and her hands instantly went to her mouth in shock. All across his back; irregularly, were pink, red and white lines. He was covered in them; different sizes and certainly different depths, of scarring. How!? She’d seen plenty of scars before, but these could not possibly have been from war. Not at all by the sheer number alone. She clamped a hand to her mouth instead to stop her from crying out in pain she didn’t even feel. She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know if she should say anything or if she could say anything. She also had the distinct feeling these were not scars from multiple wars. They were too concentrated, too precise. With his back to you in battle all it would take is one good strike... “This requires a little more explanation I know...” She almost didn’t want it, but he persevered, still showing his back to her. “When I was a boy, I was sent to Foundling House... the fathers of all the Lords you know ran it, and as you can expect the Archdeacon and clergy had their part to play too... My father, rest his soul was no longer around by this point so I essentially had no choice in the matter. But, we would have to go and buy whatever they beat us with. Canes, usually. Night practice... all of them drunk...” Wil almost laughed, “And that was when it was good. God forbid they use anything stronger than that. They don't hurt... As such. Not now, this is years ago but sometimes, things just-” “How long—?!” This wasn't just once or twice this was years’ worth of repeat abuse. Some of those scars were deep. He gave a shrug and she watched his muscle structure disfigure those marks for just a second. “I was there the majority of my youth well into my teens. Eventually you reach the stage where you become more than just numb to it. And far too old to be any fun. I got out, and eventually got into office. Strength well and truly beaten into me... the best thing to do was keep quiet. Most couldn’t... you can’t even imagine, Y/N, how young some of them were...” He took a breath, “Years of it. I thought one day the scars might fade. They haven’t. But I always watch my back. And trust me, the Church will never fail to remind me of what I was put through back then...” He spun himself half around suddenly as she couldn’t take it anymore, and her shock had become sobs. “...I- I-” She tried to get it out, but she was too appalled. Her heart was breaking for him and for everyone else who had gone through that; so many of them, and for what? To be strong enough to lead here? But broken enough to still be firmly under the thumb of the Church? “I’m so sorry...” She cried and he was slightly taken aback. “Y/N...” She ran then, still crying, across the room and threw her arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace. He tensed immediately at the sensation of her chest to his back; his bare skin. Her tears dripping and running in slow rivers onto all those scars. “H-Hey...” he sighed, “It’s not- Y/N it’s not on you.” “I don’t care! How could they?!” “Because that is what they do. The Church is power here, Y/N. Those in power are unfair. And it is this that made me... I am not the man you want me to be...” He was striking himself amongst them. “You are not like them. You are NOT them!!” “God, I will cling to power as if I was...” Wil murmured it, placing a hand over hers, “Y/N. I am not a good man.” But she knew he was a broken one, and she could help, surely he couldn’t be so far gone. He had resentment of his upbringing... but this is what he was hiding, she knew. His fear. He still feared that the Church, those Lords, could take everything away from him. The Sheriff was in deep, and twisted, and it was all on them. “Children... I just can’t imagine... but to children!? It’s barbaric! There are similar rituals elsewhere, but optional, and for much older men-! There should be mercy on children!!!” His laugh was bitter; “Their idea of mercy was dulling the pain with Brandy.” It clicked; “Alcohol? That’s why you don’t drink it.” “As if the taste of something like that wouldn’t bring it all back... my, my, you are observant.” She still couldn’t understand it; “Why?” She unlinked her hands, and tentatively she ran her fingers over one of the many; when he tensed, she hesitated until Wil relaxed under her touch again, he didn’t tell her to stop, so she continued. As the Sheriff gripped her tighter, she realised that he was still working through so much... And working through it all now just to allow her to do this. “If they break you then you will keep faith forever. How could you not? If they don’t break you, you end up with strong... ruthless... brutal leadership qualities. Guess that’s what puts me here. Under the watchful eye of the sons of all those men and the Church. Never forget, Y/N, they can take all this from me in a heartbeat, and they will, if I do not toe the line. My own ambitions aside - and they will not just take my power, my money, my people, this city... they will take YOU.” “No.” If it was possibly to hold him tighter she did so. “I fear it may not be your decision. And it pains me to ask you to toe the line of a religion so far removed from your own...” After what he had just told her?!? “But I am afraid that to protect you I must...” She realised the Sheriff was right, and for him she must at the very least accept this new faith. She took a breath; “For you. I will do anything. But for this... I will not forgive them.”
***
She wasn’t thinking as clearly about all of this as she should have been. In fact, she was getting a little too used to falling in love, that she forgot exactly what he was capable of. Sitting alone in the church one afternoon - when the sunshine seemed to stream in through every window, warming her and throwing every colour she could think of and more across the stone flooring - she took solace in the peace and tranquillity. It was nice to sit here and think, and sometimes pray. It might have made no sense, that her Gods would answer her here - but she felt something mystical about being in such a place. Even with its own connotations on his past - now so obviously affecting his present, and if he wasn’t careful so much of his future. The sound of opening and shutting doors caused her to look up. And she stood almost immediately in shock. Confessional. Once again he was coming from confessional-!? She took two steps back which she hoped were silent - only to knock loudly against one of the pews. The sound echoed around the empty building - and the Sheriff instantly spotted her. He looked just as shocked to be caught as she was to catch him. And she was already running by the time that he had started towards her. He called her name – but there was no way she was about to listen to him.
The problem was she didn’t even know where she was running to. Completely blind and reckless she had suddenly lost all sense of direction as she ran through the streets of Nottingham. The Sheriff, of course, knew every backroad and shortcut here and if he was quick on his feet (not usual but not unheard of!) he’d make it back to the palace before she would. Although that would leave him very little time to catch his breath and think on what to say.
She was almost back - where she could go back to her room and scream into her pillow and kick herself that it would mean anything. That she would ever mean anything to him. That he would ever love her. But as she rounded the final corner into the courtyard so did Wil - from the opposite direction. “NO!” She almost screamed - trying to find any way out of an interaction, he wasn’t as quick as her and she dodged him easily. “Y/N! WAIT-! WAIT-! JUST Let me explain!!!” Actually, this time it really wasn’t about taking another lover – the Sheriff had a lot on his mind he wanted to clear, and thought it best to do it there. Figures that she would catch him at the worst possible time. Probably God’s way of laughing at him even more.
“Y/N!!” His chase of her was relentless, and at this point she wondered how long he could keep this up for, until they came to another corridor - Wil put on a sudden burst of speed, to aim to catch her at the sharp turn she’d have to take and slow down for (else risk crashing into the far wall of the much narrower corridor.). Only she didn’t just slow down, she completely halted - and he didn’t have the reaction time to stop himself. Stumbling into her and then pushing her out into the corridor, where she had to evade both the wall, and falling over. Added to this commotion, was the group of Lords standing at the other end of the corridor, who all turned towards the sound. “Oh! Sheriff! Carina Matheson is here to see you from Shirebrook...”
Well, if that didn’t make a bad day worse, he didn’t know what would. The woman he was chasing had steadied herself by, now, creating a gap between them that she very much wanted to stay that way, and tossing her hair back in annoyance. This was far from over The group of them were talking to another pretty young female, light brown hair with freckles and gorgeous green eyes - who looked like the timid, shy, would-do-anything-for-you type. A multitude of flowers running through her neatly braided hair. As a formality, William smiled, “Carina, it’s nice to see you...” “Likewise, Sheriff, it’s been a little while.” Naturally, his wife-to-be had had enough. Her expression was darker than thunder clouds and she turned to him. Whatever she shouted was not in English - and he was pretty sure he saw tears, before she ran from him. “No! Y/N! Wait—! Can we-! Y/N!!”
**
She didn’t think she was being too harsh calling him that. At this point she thought he bloody deserved it. And once again she was running blind, this time not because her mind was racing, but because of her tears. So much so that when she slammed the door to her room she realised that she was not, in fact, in her room. But his. And that made her panic more. Why had she come here!? What had drawn her here!? Why was she so intent to keep him in her head and let him break her heart over, and over, and over when this was all he did? And all he’d ever be. She’d be one of many for the rest of her life. That was it. She jumped at the knock; “Y/N... can we talk about this, please?” “GO AWAY!” “Sweetheart please let me in...” “No!” Although she wasn’t exactly stopping him from just opening the door. “It isn’t what you think, I promise you that.” But there was a sigh, “However, I do agree this conversation is a little overdue...” She took a few more seconds but eventually opened the door, dejectedly “A little!?” “I know. I know why you’re upset. And you have every single right to be, I’m not blaming you. Whatever you called me I probably deserved it...” She walked over to the bed and sat down, possibly just to move away from him again. But she still wouldn’t turn to him. “...Please, Y/N, look at me… and let me explain.” She did so, possibly only to get it over with. “Carina – Cara - and her husband run things together in Shirebrook - it’s a few hours ride away, up near Sherwood forest, and I think you might like it. She reminds me a little of you and I asked her up here to discuss what their needs are for the forthcoming season, because I think you just might like her too.” He took slow strides over to her, and her eyes lowered from him again, “As for confessional... there’s just a lot that I need to get off my mind right now, especially with the War effort going on, it wasn’t about anyone... else.” He held his hand out for hers, hoping she might eventually turn to him and take it. “I am not asking you to forgive me for what I’ve done. I just want you to know what I was doing today. That you shouldn’t hold a grudge against Cara for something that isn’t her fault.” Wil sighed, sitting next to her; “I know I ask this too much of you. But you must please forgive me…” He took her hands in his, and finally she looked back at him, and she didn’t pull away; “Y/N… I know that I am not a good man to you… but… I feel you also know how much of a front this is. I have been so unfaithful, and yet you remain?... I know you may not have a choice as such but I- I am supposed to marry you… To make you the Lady of Nottingham you deserve to be… But, I do NOT deserve you…” She gripped his hand tighter. From what she’d seen of him she understood why he hid behind these forms of affection. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as giving yourself completely to one person. But he had to understand, now, how much it was hurting her - or he never would. “…I have never told anyone… much of what I have told you. I have never let anyone this close… Y/N, and I want to let you closer… I want it to be only you…” He turned, his bright blue eyes begging; “Move in here. With me. I will have Tuck sign us a marriage certificate…. Let me make you into a greater woman. With a title. I will be yours. Y/N… I beg of you. Let me be only yours…”
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