It had always been the way – their bloody stories again. Their foes wanted to kill Robin and the men. Wanted them to hurt, wanted to make a public example. But Marian? They wanted to possess her. And the Sheriff had very nearly managed it. She could be... he didn't want to think where she'd be, what he'd do. But they'd never have even known.
He thought he understood. This wasn't the old days. They weren't playing with archery contests and forest ambushes any more. Their enemies weren't content any more to see them jailed or dead, weren't even fighting to protect a turf anymore. They just wanted to see the Merry Men fucking suffer.
And what do you do, when you're facing an unkillable foe who'll stop at nothing? Who'll beat your friends bloody or murder them cold or chain them into a dungeon to starve or – good help us – lock them away and try to 'save' them?
His eyes went again to the waiting pile of bricks.
"Shit, mate," he said hoarsely. "Shit." Will shook his head, struggling to gather the words. "It has to stop. You know I'm right with you on that, yeah? This... we can't keep waiting for him to hit us first."
And if the Sheriff wasn't playing by the old rules... It's a fine price to pay, losing a part of my soul, she'd said. Marian, more than any of them, perhaps, had seen the changing times and done her best to adapt to them. To bring the fight to new grounds.
She shouldn't have to take it here.
"What about alternatives?" he asked. "Mortal law? Get him thrown in prison?"