Better Days Will Come

By: Kegel

Summary: A twist of history and an unexpected offer give Robin new opportunities in his fight for both his people and country. It also brings new dilemmas, as he and the gang have to make hard choices to find their way when conflicts come to a head.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own.

Spoilers: Up to mid-season 2.

Rating: T

A/N: This is a sequel to"Affirmation". Thanks to Emmithar for the beta! :)

Chapter 1: Winter

The mud under his feet was frozen. It was sometimes difficult to even tread on the ground, as the hard and uneven crust covered with a layer of slippery ice made it almost impossible for his feet to find a steady hold. He'd moved through the forest as far as he could, where only thick layers of snow kept him from coming along quickly, but it had proven yet more difficult once he had left the woods behind, already frozen to the bone then.

They had avoided these kinds of trips as much as possible, but Robin had decided that he simply had to go and check on the villages today. The weather was not all too bad this afternoon, the conditions that made it hard for him to move along more the result of the previous harsh weeks that had switched between heavy snowfall and short periods of thawing, causing the top layer of snow to melt and then freeze again as slippery ice.

Several weeks ago, shortly before Christmas, the gang had almost been forced to give up their camp. Will had suggested some emergency measures, and with the help of all they had managed to make the camp safer and warmer, enabling them to stay there after all. Robin would not really have known where else to go. There was still the cave where they had spent the harshest days and nights of the previous winter before Will had built the camp, but they were not prepared to go there this time, as they had not stocked up on wood and food there. They had too little of the latter in any way.

So it had been a relief to be able to stay at the camp, as miserable as they still were during these winter days. They had started to ration what little food they had, and everyone was suffering the consequences. Much had found new ingenious ways to cook what he promised to not be squirrel. Robin even believed him, knowing that the animals were in their winter dormancy right now and would hardly be caught by a hungry outlaw. But then he supposed that squirrel wouldn't have been that bad after all.

They had hardly been able to stock up in the autumn, neither the stocks at the camp that were for their own use nor the ones that were supposed for the peasants in the villages. Harvest had turned out badly, at least around Nottingham, as the taxes of the sheriff had robbed many of the peasants of the means to even cultivate enough food to make ends meet for their families, far from having enough left over to sell it.

It was well into the afternoon when Robin tried his best to slip into Locksley unnoticed. It was an odd feeling to try and not be seen in the village of his childhood days. He hadn't even been that careful right after becoming an outlaw, when Gisborne had taken over the manor for his own instead of a supposed stewardship for Robin. But after what had happened in the autumn, Robin still felt uncomfortable, especially now as he was hardly able to help the peasants at all.

Will had told him that there was no need for the discomfort. The young man went openly into the village when neither Gisborne nor any of his minions were around. He had encouraged Robin, had informed him that he had spoken with the villagers, and even those that he did not know closely he believed to be convinced of the outlaws' goodwill, no matter what the sheriff or Gisborne were saying.

Now that he was in the village, Robin was not even sure what he wanted to see there. They all knew how hard the winter was and they had estimated a long time ago that food would be more than scarce. He didn't see many people around and it was no surprise in the weather conditions. Only those that had to work outside were doing so now. Most had retreated into their small houses, busying themselves with housework that occupied the peasants during the winter months.

Robin tried to keep moving. The cold had long made its way through his clothing and the snow wasn't helping either. As he moved around another house, he rubbed his cold fingers that had become numb and stiff by now. He grimaced, wondering if he would even be able to string his bow at all, if it proved to be necessary. So far he had not met any trouble, but one could never be certain that it remained this way.

For now everything seemed to be peaceful. It wasn't a bad thing. Robin disliked that he wasn't able to do anything for Locksley right now, the gang having no food or money left over to give to the people, but if there was any other trouble, Robin would still be ready to help, the outlaws not far away at camp, in case he needed back-up.

Then he stood in front of the manor building. He had no idea if Gisborne was there, or if the man was away to cause trouble in Nottingham. Robin walked slowly around the house, wondering if it wasn't time to go back to camp, considering how cold he already was now. Much would probably scold him, once he was back. Robin smiled at the thought.

At this moment someone came out of the house and Robin skirted around a corner, pressing himself against the wall. The icy wind blew around the house and Robin shivered, listening for steps that might be coming towards him. He realized two things at the same time: the snow would dull any sounds as well as betray the fact where he had gone. Then a man stepped around the corner and Robin was about to retreat when he heard his name being called.

"Robin?"

"Thornton." It had taken Robin a moment to recognize the form of the man against the light of the gray sky and the snow.

"Now, Robin, what brings you here at this day?" The man looked at him closely. "You have to be cold."

Robin grimaced. He did not have a good reason to give for his presence apart from wanting to see Locksley.

"Of course you are cold, always being outside," Thornton shook his head. "Why don't you come in? The master is not here and won't be back today."

Robin shook his head quickly. "I cannot."

The other man looked at him grimly.

"Is everyone well?" Robin asked, moving forward to indicate that he would be leaving soon. He wouldn't keep the old man outside for very much longer.

"As good as they can, under the circumstances," Thornton answered carefully. Robin nodded, looking away from the man's gaze. He still regretted the loss of the supplies they had hoped to gain in the autumn. "You are looking thin, too, Robin, more so even than usual."

Robin did not feel like telling the man about it. The villagers surely had worse problems than the outlaws.

"Robin," the old man spoke again and the outlaw met his gaze. "Wait here. I will go in and get you some of the dry meat we have in the storage. And some fresh bread."

"No," Robin shook his head slightly. "Don't trouble yourself with me. Give what you can spare to the people. We'll manage." He knew he was not speaking the complete truth, aware that they could well need what was offered, but how could he accept it when the peasants were going hungry at the same time?

Thornton stepped towards him, still looking at him concernedly, laying an arm around Robin's back. "Then come at least in for a moment."

Robin paused, but then nodded quietly, figuring it could not hurt to accept the wish of the old man. Nor would it do him any ill to step out of the miserable weather. Minutes later Thornton had seated Robin inside the house, assuring him once more that neither Gisborne nor any of his men were at Locksley. The old man left then and Robin feared that he was doing what the outlaw had declined earlier.

Minutes later Thornton returned and carried a bowl that came with a promising smell. Robin's reflex was to refuse any of it, but he checked himself. The man wanted to do him good; who was he to refuse the man's work now? And he was hungry…

Once Robin had started eating, the man left again and came back moments later with a few logs of wood that he put into the small fire that had already been burning in the fireplace, enticing the flames to grow, warmer the room even more.

Robin was grateful, although he had a hard time to express it towards the man. Thornton had managed well to lead the household under Gisborne's possession. He called that man master and Robin wondered privately whether he cared for Robin only for old times sake or because he considered him still the true lord of the manor.

Robin couldn't deny that he missed his family's home. He hadn't lived there for five long years. At first time he had not been longing for the home that he had eagerly left for the war in the Holy Land, but later he had been thinking about it often times, wishing he was back in Locksley, back in England. Returning home had been a blessing, the manor hardly changed from when he had last seen it, contrary to the village that surrounded it. His return, however, had not proven to be permanent.

He could not regret what he had done that had caused him to lose his home for good; otherwise Will and Allan, as well as Will's brother Luke and another Locksley peasant would long be dead. Even if he had let the men die back then, keeping still under the sheriff's regime for now, trying to stabilize his position, as Edward and Marian had advised, he doubted it would have taken long before another conflict with the sheriff would have arisen. Robin didn't even want to consider it possible that he would have managed to live and govern alongside of Vaysey. The only way it would have been possible was if he had come to accept the man's cruel ways.

Though the soup warmed him, it was replaced with a uncomfortable feeling, mostly of guilt as he thought of the others back at camp. He had refused to take Thornton's offer of provisions that would have helped them all, but instead had readily accepted the offer that only benefited him.

Thornton once again came back into the room, carrying a bundle. He placed in on the table in front of Robin. The outlaw could smell the fresh bread.

"Thank you."

"We are doing what we can for the people, Robin," Thornton assured him, but Robin was not certain the man's words meant that it was enough.

He would only be able to do what Gisborne allowed him to do. People had died of starvation during Robin's years of absence in the war. Gisborne had not stopped that, had probably not been willing to, being the right hand man of the sheriff who was largely at fault for what was happening.

"They don't blame you, Robin," Thornton said suddenly and Robin looked up from his pondering.

It was still a question what many of the people in and around Nottingham thought. The sheriff had managed to spread the story of the outlaws being to charge for the destruction of a large delivery of supplies that had been intended for Nottingham in the autumn. People had indeed blamed Robin and he remembered the bitter happenings of then only too clearly. He had told himself many times that it was only the desperation of the people that had been the cause, a desperation that was well justified in the circumstances. Now he was still empty-handed, couldn't do much to gain their trust back. Locksley was certainly the place that still stood behind him the most; Will having good connections to the people and the villagers knowing Robin from his youth, knowing they could trust him.

"Where is Gisborne anyway?" he asked then, trying to banish the gloomy thoughts.

"The master has gone to Nottingham." Thornton stood beside the table, looking still earnestly at his former master.

Robin gritted his teeth, wondering what Gisborne was up to in town. The sheriff surely had business for him, but then Robin could also imagine that the man was off to woo Marian again. He hadn't left off that at all.

Robin hadn't seen Marian in weeks, but when he had paid a short visit to Nottingham before Christmas, the gang handing out the last of the money they had to give, she had told him that Gisborne was still not letting her out of his sight for much of the time he was in Nottingham. Robin figured that Marian wasn't even telling him everything. She had never avoided the presence of the man as much as Robin would have recommended, but then he had thought Gisborne burning down her home had shown her well enough what kind of man the Master-at-Arms was.

"Anything else he has been up to?" Robin asked, gloomy once again.

"You have heard the news, I am sure?" the old man started in a somber voice. Robin froze, his mind racing as to what bad news the man was about to bring him. Surely Marian was alright?

"What is it?"

"I do not know when you were last in town," the man went on. "The news arrived only some days ago. It is what has caused the master to be away for so long."

Robin listened silently, impatient to hear what the man had to say. The gang had hardly heard anything at all from either the town or the villages during those last dark weeks.

"I was sure you had heard about it, Robin. A message arrived concerning King Richard. I figured that was why you had not been here recently."

Robin frowned. There were many reasons as to why he had not been seen in the villages, but it was not the time to discuss them. He felt himself tense, knowing that whatever was said could well contain the future of both England and his life as well.

"The King, he left the Holy Land last autumn," Thornton went on. "I'm sure you've heard of the Duke of Austria, Leopold. According to the message that was received in Nottingham, the Duke imprisoned King Richard while the man was on the way to the lands of Henry of Saxony."

Robin could not quite believe his ears at first. "The Duke took the King captive?" His mind was racing as to the implications of it. Richard had left the Holy Land. He had been on his way home. And now...

"The present whereabouts of King Richard are not known yet."

"When did it happen?"

"Shortly before Christmas, as far as is known," Thornton replied. "It is all I can tell you, Robin. If Sir Guy knows more then he did not say so. It was all I could learn, for he seemed to be in a festive mood at the time. And you know that it is not my place to ask him about these matters."

Robin nodded gravely, his mind pondering the news. There was a whirlwind of different thoughts and emotions. There was the brief wondering as to how the sheriff had managed to arrange that feat, a thought that was quickly pushed aside as crazy – Vaysey might be able to send Gisborne to the Holy Land to try to kill the king, but he had no way of giving orders to the Duke of Austria.

There was hope as well because the king had finally left the Holy Land, hope that the captivity, as outrageous as it was, would not last long and Richard would finally make his way home then. There was worry too, though, that after all the waiting for the king to return, all the fighting they had already done to defend the people, it would still have to go on for an undetermined period of time.

Sometimes, in good times, Robin had sworn to himself that he would go on to fight from the forest for years to come, if necessary. In times like these though, when he had nothing to give to the people, when even the outlaw's barest survival was at stake simply by the laws of nature, the outlook of many more years of fighting to come was more than bleak.

One thing he knew was that he had to learn more details about the news he had received from Thornton. He'd have to go to Nottingham. Marian surely would know more about it and if he kept his ears open, he might be able to gather more information as well. He still did not like the outlook of walking through the town's marketplace, but he would come as he had often done, concealed beneath his hood and a few extra layers of clothes in these weather conditions, and he would sneak up to Marian's chamber and nobody would even take notice of him.

He left Locksley shortly after, the bundle of food Thornton had provided for the gang under one arm. Much surely would be glad to see it. Maybe he would not even argue anymore about Robin going to the village alone, understanding that it would have been unlikely that Thornton would have risked sneaking the entire gang inside. Robin shook his head. It had once again started to snow and the sky was slowly turning dark. As he stepped through the accumulating white, Robin pondered the gravity of what he had learned at Locksley Manor.

King Richard had left the Holy Land. They had been waiting for it so long. There could be no joy about the message though. Previously it had been in the king's hands to decide when to return home, now it was in the power of some European duke. Robin had heard enough of the power play, had seen enough of what happened when kings and dukes and popes quarreled, when they exerted their powers over others, pulled each other into devastating wars. Robin knew enough to not want to play that game, too. On the other hand, sometimes matters seemed to be simple: the sheriff was evil, Gisborne was his cruel right-hand man who terrorized the peasants, Prince John was given them power. Robin had to fight to keep the evil at bay until the king returned. Then everything would go back to normal. This was what he wanted to believe.

As his feet were once again getting cold, and the wind blew the hood of his head again and again, Robin also thought back to the time when things had seemed simple before. Years ago, before he had gone off to war, it had seemed a clear and easy matter as well. He would go and fight for King Richard in the Holy Land, would fight what he believed to be the evil there, would soon return victorious to his home, would finally wed Marian. This idea had been shattered very soon after he had first tread on the hot sand of the lands that crusaders and Saracens were battling about.

It was a strange memory, to remember the feeling of the warm sand in his hands, now that he would only be able to pick up balls of icy snow. In the desert he had realized through five long years that the world was more complicated than he had thought. There were no simple solutions to all problems, and what he had thought to be the enemies of what he believed in had turned out to be victims and culprits of the same crime the crusaders were committing and suffering from.

Robin looked up into the sky, snow drifting over him. He smiled grimly. Matters were not simple here either. But then he knew who the enemy was. Vaysey would always be one, as would Gisborne. He did not know yet what consequences these developments would have, or what opportunities the men in Nottingham would grasp to further pursue their plots against the king, but he was certain that here, for once, matters were clear-cut. He would go back to the forest and continue to fight from there. His men would help. He knew which side he was on, which side they were on. At least this much was clear and it came as a relief in a situation where nothing else was easy.

Robin turned to glance back at Locksley one last time, seeing the light of the fires that burned inside the cottages shine through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. He would return there some day. For now he was to go back to his men, who no doubt were waiting concernedly in this cold and increasingly stormy night.

TBC