King John sat on his throne with a black clad Guy of Gisborne standing by his side, both men feeling that their time was being wasted by the current situation.
"Why do you bother me with mere trifles from the provinces, Sheriff, surly you are more than capable of dealing with this so called Jester?" King John sneered as he looked down at the Sherriff and Gregor Perk. The two men had made the long journey from Nottingham down to London, in order to beseech the King for his assistance in dealing with the scourge of the outlaw that had taken up residence in the great Sherwood forest.
"Do I not already supply you, at great expense I may add, with some of the best men and equipment? How can you not take care of one simple outlaw?" John growled, drumming his finger impatiently on the arms of his throne as he waited for a suitable response.
The news of Gregor's brush with the notorious bandit, and his unfortunate, rather embarrassing return to the city, had even reached the capital and despite his initial amusement at the situation, John was now more than a little annoyed that the Sherriff had seen fit to bother him with a situation that should be more than easy to rectify.
"Why is it that you have come to waste my precious time, what more do you want from your Sovereign? Do you want more men, more gold, more weapons? Just because some foolish fat merchant was robbed going through the forest, that does not mean that I am going to waste anymore of my kingdoms precious resources on this paltry problem." John bellowed, rising from his throne and making his way over to the two men, both of whom seemed to cower slightly under the regent's glare.
"John." A soft voice called out, all men turning to see the woman that had just stepped forward.
"You know that you should not allow these things to upset you, it is not good for your humours." The woman said, as she gracefully walked over and took the Kings hand.
"You are of course correct as always, my dearest cousin. What would I do without your sage advice and care?" John sighed, as he allowed the lady to escort him back to his throne.
"Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you both to my cousin, the lady (Y/n) of Aquitaine." John hummed, kissing the woman by his side softly on the hand.
"My dearest lord, I know that I am but a mere woman, but may I suggest a course of action that may prove to rectify this issue without the need for you to dispense any more time, men or gold." (Y/n) asked, moving around to her cousin's other side to avoid the looming black figure of Guy of Gisborne.
Ever since (Y/n) had made her way from France to be at her cousins' aid, Gisborne had been a thorn in her side, a seemingly ever present shadow that followed her around like an unwanted spectre, and it was more than obvious that his intentions towards her were less than platonic; much to her chagrin she had even heard Gisborne and John speaking about a possible marriage, a marriage that she was determined would not go ahead.
(Y/n) had no real love for John, he was a reckless and irresponsible, a cruel tyrant with a weak backbone who let others do the fighting for him; but her other cousin, Richard, the man that was the true King of England, had asked her to watch over John while he was in the Holy Lands fighting the Saracen scourge, knowing that she was a true intellect, a strong, dependable level headed lady, and had she been a man, would have made an excellent king.
"You are no mere woman, my dear (Y/n), and I would very much like to hear your solution to this inconsequential issue." John hummed, taking her hand and squeezing it softly.
"Send me back to Nottingham with the Sheriff, who better than I to deal with this matter? I am sure that the good Sheriff has done all he can, but a new perspective on the problem may provide a solution." (Y/n) said, curtsying respectfully as she hoped that John would agree with her suggestion, anything to get her away from the advances of Gisborne.
Before any of the other men could protest, John began to laugh. "What a wonderful idea, my dear. What this situation needs is a delicate hand and a bright mind, which others here would appear to be lacking." John said, staring down at the Sheriff and merchant.
"But I could not allow you to travel all that way without a guard; I would therefore ask that Sir Guy accompany you to Nottingham, I am sure that he could prove of great assistance to you." John said, as he looked at a now smiling Gisborne.
"It would be my honour to accompany the lady (Y/n), hopefully the journey will allow us to become better acquainted." Gisborne hummed, a lecherous smirk growing even wider on his lips as looked (Y/n) up and down.
(Y/n) knew that was nothing she could say, no point in protesting, what the king decreed was tantamount to the word of god; but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to try. "Sire, are you sure that you would really want to lose Sir Guy, I am more than certain that the good Sherriff and his men are more than capable of protecting me." (Y/n) delicately tried to insist, hoping beyond hope that John would change his mind.
"I will hear nothing of the sort, you are my cousin and a lady and I want only the best to protect you, I am sure that I could dispense with his services for a short while, and as I wish for you two to be married once you return to London, I believe, as Sir Guy says, that this would be the perfect opportunity for you two get to know one another better before your nuptials." John told a now distraught (Y/n), who was desperately trying to control any outward signs of disgust at the notion of being wed to the ominous black raven that was Gisborne.
"You do me too much honour Sire." (Y/n) whispered, reeling back slightly as the great shadow of Gisborne loomed over her, taking her hand and gently kissing her knuckles.
"The honour is all mine." Gisborne hummed, moving close enough to (Y/n) that their bodies had but a thin sliver of light between them.
It wasn't that Gisborne was unattractive, quite the opposite was true, he was tall and dark with finely chiselled features and deep blue eyes, in other circumstances (Y/n) would have found him handsome, but it was the rumours of his time in the Holy Land that had given him his reputation, a reputation that had turned a beautiful man into a demon.
From correspondence that (Y/n) had received, Gisborne had the reputation as assassin, a killer of not only his own men, but also women and children as he had made a name for himself as a scourge of the desert on his way to the holy city of Jerusalem, and this was not a man that (Y/n) wish to share her life with.
Pulling her hand away from Gisborne's clutches, (Y/n) curtsied to her cousin. "Sire, you have my word that I will do all I can to aid in rectifying this issue in Nottingham, and I will not return to London until the outlaws head is on a spike." (Y/n) said, turning and making her way out of the throne room as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the stare of Gisborne.
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The journey to Nottingham had proved a long and quite arduous one, it wasn't that (Y/n) was a delicate lady, she was tougher than she allowed any man to know; but it was Gisborne that constantly rode by the side of her carriage that was making the trip worse than it should have been. As often as he could he would sit across from her in her landeau, droning on endlessly about himself, about his time in the Holy Lands and how he had even once saved her cousin Richard, giving her story after story in what seemed a desperate attempt to endear himself to her; but no matter what he said, (Y/n) was determined that by any means possible that she was not going to marry him.
Suddenly the carriage came to an abrupt halt, (Y/n) nearly falling from her seat as she pulled back the thick red curtain and poked her head out of the small window.
"What's going on?" (Y/n) asked, as the Sheriff rode up to the side of her landeau.
"We are just about to enter Sherwood my lady, Sir Guy has ordered that you have to wait here while he and some of the men make sure the way is safe." The Sheriff told her, watching in dismay as (Y/n) opened the carriage door and jumped down onto the muddy ground; the Sheriff hadn't liked the idea of a lady being sent to solve his problem with The Jester for him, even if she was the cousin of the King, but what he liked even less was that Gisborne had already told him that if he allowed anything to happen to his soon to be bride, he would kill him himself.
"My lady, I must insist that you get back in the carriage, Sir Guy will be dis........." The Sheriff began, before being cut off by (Y/n).
"Insist? Insist?" (Y/n) said indignantly, as she turned and looked up at the Sheriff.
"I insist that we make our way into the forest, I am not scared of this Jester and I do not want him thinking that I am. Now, we are going to stop this foolishness and we are going to continue on our way; I have had my fill of this journey, and the sooner we get to Nottingham the better, and may I add that until Sir Guy has been married to me under the watchful eyes of god, I will continue to do as I wish." (Y/n) said, climbing back into the carriage and slamming the door behind her.
The Sheriff looked at his men, coughing uncomfortably as he signalled for his men to continue on their way.
The journey through the forest was strangely quiet, the coolness of the deep green canopy making (Y/n) feel a little calmer than she had been since she left that capital. Pushing back the curtain she took in the tranquil surroundings, it was hard to believe that a place so beautiful could be home to a criminal such as the one the Sheriff had described; he had made The Jester out to be a killer, a maniac who had no qualms about who he hurt, or what he took, his painted face terrifying any that saw it, but (Y/n) was no fool, she knew that the Sheriff would make the man out to be more of a monster than he actually was just so that he did not lose face in front of others, but whatever the truth, there was a small part of her that was looking forward to finding out the truth.
Without warning the carriage once again came to an immediate stop as the sounds of shouting and clashing swords filled the once quiet air. (Y/n) jumped as the thump of a body hitting the side of the coach caught her off guard, the dull thud and chink of chainmail spurring her on to grab for a small dagger that she had concealed under the seat opposite.
As she sat in the carriage, the sounds of fighting continuing around her, (Y/n) desperately wanted to leave her confines so that she could aid in the battle, but she knew that sometimes discretion was the better part of valour, and the less people that knew she could fight the better; she had been taught things that no other lady had been taught, and she was told always let your enemy underestimate you. After what seemed like hours, the handle to the carriage door rattled as the sound of galloping horses rode off into the distance; as the small ingress creeped open, (Y/n) expected to see the faces of either the Sheriff, his men or a smug looking Gisborne, but as the door opened fully there instead stood a huge man that filled the entire empty expanse, his face concealed behind a white, strangely painted mask, his large hand reaching in and grabbing a wide eyed (Y/n), pulling her from her seat; she was not one to normally be scared, but as she was bundled up in a large woollen blanket, she couldn't help but fear what was to befall her.