Polo and Dreameh's Medieval RP.

Derek continued to fight his oppressors all the way to the post, but with his hands bound as they were, his resistance was barely more than an irritation to the knights. Within moments they had him standing on an upturned crate beside the post, and Derek drew back in fear when he saw the noose being adjusted to fit his neck.
I really will die here! He thought in urgent desperation, By my own father's orders, I will die here like a dog, and all for one act of upholding justice! How could the King allow such corruption in his underlings?! My father ought not have power if he lacks the resolve to contain it!
"You cowards!" Derek spat as the noose was lowered toward him, "Have you no sense of justice? Stop this ridiculous murder, you fools!" His lips pulled into an angry snarl, but the knights just ignored him, and Derek stood tall and proud while the noose hovered ready over his head.
Just as the knight was about to fix it around his neck, a dagger whizzed past them, and Derek flinched in surprise when the find of it ruffled his loose hair. The knight jumped back in fright, clutching his skimmed hand, and stared out edgily into the forest as a voice called, "It seems I missed your hand! Let him go before my aim improves!"
Derek's eyes darted to the familiar form of the Highland Pony grazing nearby, and he felt an inch of tension drop from his shoulders. William, you brilliant bastard, you. Better late than never.
"It's as I told you, gentlemen." Derek muttered haughtily to the knights, "Wherever there is injustice, there will always be those brave enough to oppose it. Now back down, and I shall forgive your cowardice, else face my wrath when I break free! I shan't stand for this." He shot them a threatening glare, and stepped pointedly down from the crate, just as Will's voice called from the bush, "I understand you do not create the law, only enforce it. So my men and I suggest that you free this man, and let him return to his home town." Another bush rustled nearby, and Derek frowned in confusion. He wasn't sure when or how Will had come by an accomplice, but this seemed to unsettle the knights, for they shifted nervously and began whispering amongst themselves as they tried to decide what to do.
Narrowing his eyes, Derek decided to help the poor fools reach a conclusion.
"Without me," He hissed dangerously, "Your beloved town shall fall into disarray. Don't you see why the Duke wants me dead?" Derek raised his chin defiantly, "I am the only one with the power to challenge his unfair rule. For once, open your eyes, and see the rule of the shadow king!" Derek's eyes flashed dangerously, and with the authority of a god, he demanded furiously, "Now release me, goddammit, or my protectors will tear you limb from limb!"
"Very well, Sir." The nearest knight agreed, raising his hands in a submissive gesture as he attempted to pacify the furious Derek. "Very well. You have bested us this time..." His eyes darted to the bushed, hiding the threatening voice that he knew would be the death of himself and his men if he dared lay a hand on Derek Argyle. Surely, the duke would understand...?
With a deep, shaky breath, the knight stepped forward, and Derek stood haughtily proud while his hands were unbound. The moment the rope fell away, he pulled out his sword, and took up a defensive stance.
"Begone from here!" He growled furiously, "Leave now, before I visit my wrath upon you!"
The knights cast another nervous glances, then all glanced nervously toward the bush where Archer hid, and bolted in the opposite direction.
Derek watched them go, his sword hand trembling at his side as shock weakened his knees.
I nearly died. It was so close. Were it not for Will, I would be dead right now... And all for one little act of justice! Just what is father playing at?!
Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, Derek sheathed his sword, and turned on his heel, stepping down away from the hanging post, and edging toward the bush that his his friend.
"Show yourself, Archer." He demanded gently, taking care not to use his friend's true name where it might be at risk of being overheard. "I owe you my life, my good man."
His shaking knees threatened to buckle, so Derek drew his sword and stabbed it into the ground, leaning on the handle.
"Come out here," He ordered with a subtle quaver to his voice, "You have my gratitude."

Archer reached down to his boot and retrieved another dagger, preparing for another attack. His friend was shouting things now, even stood on that platform with a rope dangling above his head, he wasn't giving up. Courage radiated off him, and when Archer peeked around his cover he saw a fire raging in the man's eyes that he'd not seen before. Archer's presence had obviously unleashed a spirit from him he hadn't had before.
Smiling proudly to himself, Archer remained hidden behind the tree, leaving the Duke's son to stand up for himself for what was probably the first time in years, ready to jump in if he was needed.
It didn't take long for Derek's words alone to strike fear into the hearts of the knights around him, and Archer coudn't help but feel his heart warm at the man's words. He spoke with so much passion and truth, it was moving to think that at least someone else had the balls to speak against a man who would readily let his son hang for such a petty crime.
When the sound of footsteps disappeared towards the town, Archer released a sigh of relief, slipping his dagger back in his pocket. He wouldn't be needing it for his best friend anymore.
"how yourself, Archer. I owe you my life, my good man." Archer didn't need to be told twice. He peeked cheekily around the tree, still keeping his face shadowed. "Come out here. You have my gratitude."
After making sure there was no one around, Archer revealed his full self, lowering his hood slightly so it hung loosely from the back of his head. He was smiling, until he caught sight of Derek's weakened frame, and his face fell. The poor man was going through shock.
"You owe me nothing, Derek. Believe me." He assured the man, then opened an arm invitingly, gesturing towards a pair of logs not far from the hanging post. An audience may have sat there, once. "You're shaken." His brow creased with concern. He had suffered that feeling before, although he had not had the burden of knowing it was his father who sent him to his own death. "Come, we can rest for a while."
He sat anyway, then whistled for Little Brother, who wandered downhill with his ears dangling lazily on a diagonal. He nickered softly to Archer, then arrived by his side and leant his stocky head gently against Archer's back.
"Easy, my lad." Archer cooed softly to him, then let the pony rest himself with his head pressed against the man's back.
"So..." Archer exhaled a sigh, "You're planning to stir a rebellion?" He asked lightheartedly, bringing a foot up to his seat. "Or do you seriously expect me to tear your captors limb from limb?" He added, raising an eyebrow teasingly.
"I admit, you sounded rather terrifying. Heaven forbid if any of those soldiers really do have your wrath thrust upon them."

"You owe me nothing, Derek. Believe me." Archer said as he stepped out of his hiding place, but Derek just shrugged. He felt too dizzy to argue. Coming so close to death had certainly frightened him far more than he cared to admit... "You're shaken." his friend said as he gestured to a log nearby, "Come, we can rest for a while."
"I'm fine." Derek snapped automatically, though he was clearly far from it. It was not in his nature to admit weakness; that sort of behaviour was not befitting of a man of his stature. Thus, he denied his obvious state of shock, but sat down on the log that Archer had indicated anyway. He knew that he would fall down if he didn't, and he wasn't sure he could handle the shame of that.
Sighing, Derek stabbed his sword into the ground, then folded his hands over the pommel and rested his forehead weakly against them, eyes gently closed.
That was too close... Just too damn close...
He sat thus for a while, until Archer's voice interrupted him from his daze, and he looked up dizzily in response, doing his best to maintain a sense of dignity.
"So... You're planning to stir a rebellion?" His friend asked casually, "Or do you seriously expect me to tear your captors limb from limb?" "Of course not..." Derek grumbled, "I would do that myself if I needed to."
Ignoring his haughtiness, Archer raised an eyebrow, and went on teasingly, "I admit, you sounded rather terrifying. Heaven forbid if any of those soldiers really do have your wrath thrust upon them."
"Don't mock me." Derek growled, shooting Archer a sharp glare. Obviously, during their time apart, he had become unused to good-natured teasing. Every word he heard, he seemed to take as an insult. The years had been most unking to Derek Argyle.
"This is repulsive!" He spat, grabbing the handle of his sword and clenching it tightly as he scowled at the ground. "If you weren't here, I- What's Father playing at?!" He blustered, lips drawing back into a furious snarl as he yanked his sword from the dirt, and replaced it back into its scabbard with a screech of steel.
He was still a moment, his white-knuckled fist shaking as it clenched the pommel of his sword. Then, slowly, Derek straightened up, smoothing back his hair.
"I'm sorry." He muttered, "This is most unsightly. I forget myself..." Frowning in irritation, he pulled in a deep draught of breath, and turned his now-calm gaze to the darkening sky overhead.
"I didn't expect this." He admitted, pushing himself to his feet, then turning to offer a hand to Archer, "Shall we move on? I don't want to hang around here any longer than necessary."
His expression was stiff and official, even around Archer, and it was relatively obvious how Derek had changed over the years. It was as though he had lost himself completely amongst stress and politics, and all that remained of him was the firstborn son of the Duke of Locksley. Of his own individual identity, there was nothing to be said. If any of himself remained, then he hid it all too well.

Archer glanced at his friend when he received his scolding, but when he saw a hateful glare being shot back at him he looked away again, the smile sinking from his face. Where was his friend? Where abouts in this secretive man was he hidden? The Derek he knew could take a joke...
"This is repulsive!" Derek roared, yanking his sword furiously from the ground. Archer watched him pitifully. "If you weren't here, I- What's Father playing at?!"
"What he's always been playing at," Archer grumbled under his breath. "To destroy the bad apple. I'd escaped his clutches so he turned to you instead."
Derek just stormed around, shoving his sword back into his scabbard, getting more and more frustrated as the seconds wore on. Archer had witnessed this from other people before, and he knew the only thing he could do was sit back and watch. Unless they turned on him, of course.
With a shaky, unstable sigh, Derek straightened up like a proper gentleman and swept his hair away from his eyes. Archer - who was sat, hunched over himself like the malnourished beggar boy he was twelve years ago - glared at the man for his etiquette. Why try and hide your anger when no one was watching?
"I'm sorry." He began. Archer raised an eyebrow. "Derek..."
"This is most unsightly. I forget myself..."
This was getting irritating. "Derek."
"I didn't expect this." Derek stood and offerd Archer his hand, looking slightly more on edge. "Shall we move on? I don't want to hang around here any longer than necessary."
Archer growled in annoyance. "For Heaven's sake, Derek, let go!" Archer rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Derek's hand. "No one is around, I don't give a damn..." He shrugged. "And you're no use to me in this state." He waved the man with a flick of his hand and took Little Brother's reins.
"Fine, we'll walk. But I'm not letting you loose when you're so infuriated." He began walking, leaving Derek to follow him. Unlike most people Archer knew the woods. Perhaps not tree by tree, but he was familiar with this area anyway.
"Listen, before you start planning your father's death, it won't work." He set Derek a firm glare. "Believe me, I've contemplated it myself. But if he dies you will only get blamed for murder by the king, and he'll send another to take your father's place. You may think the Duke is bad, but things can get far worse. If you want to get him back, we need to be wise about it."

When Archer ignored his hand for the second time that day, Derek pulled it back to himself and straightened his shoulders, clearly affronted. "For Heaven's sake, Derek, let go!" His friend muttered irritably as he stood up, "No one is around, I don't give a damn... And you're no use to me in this state." "What 'state' would that be?" Derek retorted waspishly, folding his arms and glaring at Archer, obviously insulted. He didn't get it. Just what, exactly, was he supposed to 'let go' of?
"Fine, we'll walk." Archer announced, ignoring him, "But I'm not letting you loose when you're so infuriated." "Infuriated?" Derek demanded incredulously, "Speak for yourself. I'm calm." And so he was, in appearance, at least. Unfortunately, Archer was having none of it. The pair walked on, and soon enough, Archer turned to him, and began speaking in a serious tone.
"Listen," He said firmly, "Before you start planning your father's death, it won't work. Believe me, I've contemplated it myself. But if he dies you will only get blamed for murder by the king, and he'll send another to take your father's place. You may think the Duke is bad, but things can get far worse. If you want to get him back, we need to be wise about it."
Taken aback, Derek shot Archer a glance, and asked disbelievingly, "You think I intend to kill my own father, the Duke of Locksley?! Good lord, man!" Derek shuddered and shook his head, pushing his loose fringe away from his face irritably, "Your thoughts are vicious." He commented quietly, "I'd not dare think of murdering him." Derek's eyes narrowed at the very thought, "If I were to do that, I'd only be sinking to the same level as him. Besides, cruel and corrupt or not, he is my father..." Trailing off, Derek frowned, and walked on in silence for a few moments.
"Revenge is for the weak." He sighed at last, "I suppose the best I can do is hope for forgiveness... Otherwise my opportunity to challenge his rule is..."
Voice fading out, He dropped his gaze to the ground, and finished silently, 'Gone... My opportunity to challenge his rule will be... Gone.
It was a frightening thought, that. Without his opposition, only God knew what havoc his father might cause.

The pair traveled in silence for a long while, Derek completely lost in thought, until at last he looked up at Archer. "I owe you my thanks." He admitted quietly, his tone losing a little of its usual edge, "If you hadn't arrived when you did, I would be dead now..."
As he trailed off yet again, a troubled expression crossed Derek's face, and he was forced to repress a shudder. Though he would never admit it - being the bravehearted and courageous leader he would have his people believe he was - Derek was terrified of death. Ever since he had met the Reaper as a child, his fear of death had become utterly paralyzing. Albeit a fear shared by most, Derek's own terror far outstripped that of the average man.
After all, even long after leaving the gallows, the hand on the pommel of his sword still trembled, and even in the cool night air, sweat sparkled wetly on his forehead, dripping down temples creased by frowning. It was a wonder his knees could hold him at all, as shaken as he was.

Archer wasn't surpriseed by Derek's reaction, since it meant at least that Derek wasn't really planning on killing his father. Archer admitted it had occurred to him. The Duke was evil, there was no doubt about it. He deserved nothing less than death. But as Archer had said before, it wouldn't work.
"Your thoughts are vicious." Derek growled.
"Thank you," Archer replied sarcastically, although he was only half offended.
"I'd not dare think of murdering him. If I were to do that, I'd only be sinking to the same level as him. Besides, cruel and corrupt or not, he is my father..." He trailed off, frowning slightly. Archer just chuckled and shook his head, yanking Little Brother's reins as he attempted to stop and feast on a tuft of grass. He couldn't relate to the father-son relationship now, as his father had been gone a long time, but from what he could remember fathers didn't try and kill their sons. Especially for the sake of a thief such as himself.
"Revenge is for the weak.I suppose the best I can do is hope for forgiveness... Otherwise my opportunity to challenge his rule is..." He trailed off thoughtfully, then a troubled look flashed in his eyes. Archer wondered what he was thinking about.
Still... Was that what Derek really planned to do? Crawl back to his Daddy on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness for such a petty crime? Where was the brave boy he'd known once upon a time?
They travelled quietly for a while through the woodland, neither saying a single word. Archer contemplated stopping to rest a few times, but one look from Derek warned him he'd only get his face bitten off if he tried.
Eventually, his friend spoke up. Although he sounded far less confident than before. "I owe you my thanks." He murmured honestly. "If you hadn't arrived when you did, I would be dead now..."
Archer was about to reply as he had done before, say it was nothing, that Derek didn't owe him anything. Then he spotted the white knuckles spiking out of his friend's shaking hand, wrapped around the pommel of his sword, and the sweat glistening on his brow. Derek looked totally overwhelmed by the fear and the shock he'd suffered, and Archer realised that death was a far greater deal to his friend than it was to Archer. Obviously, being an outlaw, he'd faced death several times. Sometimes to the point that it became a normal encounter in everyday life. But Derek had suffered far more than Archer in that way, because of the horrors he'd suffered in his earlier life.
"Derek," He murmured, placing a firm, friendly hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm the reason you were there in the first place, I was hardly going to let you die before my eyes." He stopped walking, and turned to the man, his eyes softening in concern. "What your father did today was unjust, and I believe me when I say I won't let him have the satisfaction of trying it again." His eyes warmed as he patted the man's shoulder. "I promise."

He turned away to continue walking, when a certain path of scenery caught his attention. They had reached a slim, moderately flowing river, guarded by trees, which could get as deep as waist height in the centre. But it wasn't the beauty of the rushing water that caused him to grin at the sight of it.
"Hey, look." He released Little Brother's reins and jogged down to the muddy beach by the river, his face lighting up. "D'you remember when we used to come here as boys? I can't believe I could have forgotten this place!" He jogged around the tree trunks, until he found a particular one, folded and disfigured at one side. "We used to go trout fishing like Indians in those bedtime stories Mother used to tell." He reached into the fold of the tree, biting his lip in concentration, then grabbed a pair of carved branches from the hole in the trunk. Both branches had been hacked at with blunt knives to spike at one side. They were now covered in moss and grime, but other than that, they were surprisingly intact.
"What d'ya say, Derek?" He asked playfully, shoving the spike of one of the sticks in the ground. "Isn't it time we rebuilt some memories?" He tossed one of the branches to his friend, grinning excitedly.

"Derek, I'm the reason you were there in the first place, I was hardly going to let you die before my eyes." Archer murmured, and Derek stopped automatically when he felt a hand on his shoulder, glancing at Archer in surprise. "What your father did today was unjust, and believe me when I say I won't let him have the satisfaction of trying it again. I promise."
Archer patted his shoulder, smiling warmly, and Derek felt himself relax slightly, blinking at his friend in touched disbelief. He could not remember the last time somebody had actually shown him such support... Swallowing anxiously, he dropped his gaze to the ground, feeling his stomach twist with a tug of fondness. To his horror, he felt his throat tighten, raw with emotion from accepting the affection he had been denied for so many years.
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Derek hung back a little when Archer started walking on again, dropping his gaze to the ground as he followed his friend. For once, he didn't even have a grumpy, pompous comment to make.
They had taken only a few more steps, when a shout from Archer caught his attention, and Derek stopped to watch as his friend dashed off their path along a tiny, overgrown track through the underbrush, heading toward the bank of the river. "D'you remember when we used to come here as boys?" Archer asked, his face alight with joy, "I can't believe I could have forgotten this place! We used to go trout fishing like Indians in those bedtime stories Mother used to tell."
Still hanging back uncertainly, Derek followed, watching with folded arms as Archer enthusiastically investigated one of the trees. He did remember the times that he and his friend had played here many years ago, but the memories were worn and faded in his mind, like photographs pored over one too many times.
Without daring to approach the old tree, Derek just observed Archer's actions, watching as his friend emerged from the hollow trunk with a pair of sharpened wooden sticks, one of which he tossed to Derek.
He caught it automatically, then flinched in disgust at the dirty sensation on his hands. He suddenly wished that he had his gloves...
"What d'ya say, Derek?" Archer asked playfully, grinning at him, "Isn't it time we rebuilt some memories?"
Derek frowned at him, and cast a thoughtful glance at the filthy stick in his hands. He hovered there awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and cast a glance at the darkening sky.
"I don't know..." He muttered uncertainly, obviously torn between his usual authority and the deep-set desire to escape it that he could never quite admit. As usual, it seemed that authority held a stronger power over him.
"We had some good times," Derek conceded, stabbing his makeshift spear into the ground, "But things have changed now. Even if I tried..." He cast a wary glance at the spear, "I'd not remember how. And besides, I need to get back to town. My ship leaves tomorrow, and if I miss it..." He shook his head, sighing wearily, and fell silent, finishing his thought in his head.
If I miss it, I'll lose my last chance to be married. It was already difficult enough finding a lady of noble blood willing to marry an abomination like me... And if I don't have a family to bear the name of my ancestors, then what exactly is the point of me?
"I have responsibilities now." Derek objected stiffly, his face set in its usual grim line, "I don't have time to waste on pointless things like this."
Even as the words left his lips, it was obvious that what Derek felt and what he said were two different things entirely. Behind the stiff, bitter authority-obsessed man that he had become, was still a little boy who would like nothing more than to throw his responsibility aside, and just experience the world again... If only he could remember how to accept the 'fun' that had once been his very life.

Derek looked terribly uncomfortable at the question thrown at him, but Archer was far too happy to care. Let him be uncomfortable. It was about time he had a good taste of what 'fun' was, since he looked like he'd not had any in twelve years.
"We had some good times. But things have changed now. Even if I tried... I'd not remember how. And besides, I need to get back to town. My ship leaves tomorrow, and if I miss it..."
Archer just shook his head. Derek could ramble all he wished, but he was still the same little boy who'd played with him all those years ago. He may be a bit more miserable and uptight, but there was no way he'd completely forgotten the times they'd shared.
Derek shook his head uncertainly, and Archer could sense he was debating in his mind whether it was worth it.
Finally, he concluded, "I have responsibilities now. I don't have time to waste on pointless things like this."
Archer tried to hide his disappointment. Pointless? Firstly, this 'pointless thing' was going to be his dinner, and secondly... It was fun! Had his friend really forgotten what that concept was?
"You know, I had a feeling you might say something like that." He murmured miserably, kicking a pebble with his boot. It rolled down to the rocky beach, bounced off a larger stone and plopped in the running water. "But then I thought, the Derek I know wouldn't be afraid of..." He looked up, his eyes alight with dare. "...A little competition."
He raised his spear in a challenging fashion. "Have some fun, old man!" He jeered. "I know I'm a better fisherman than you but, come on!" He jogged backwards towards the river bank. "Don't tell me you're too good to get your hands dirty." He grinned, and suddenly the younger William radiated off his beaming smile. He may as well have been twelve years old again.
After holding Derek's gaze daringly for a few moments, he cracked his lips open and cooed some quiet clucking noises, like a chicken, his blue eyes sparkling.

Derek was about to drop the dirty spear from his hand, but then a subdued murmur from William stopped him. "You know, I had a feeling you might say something like that." He said, kicking a pebble absentmindedly, "But then I thought, the Derek I know wouldn't be afraid of..." Derek's eyes narrowed as he met William's daring gaze, "..A little competition."
"I don't have time for this!" Derek snapped pompously, automatically becoming irritable again out of self defense as he tried to back down from Williams dare without damaging his delicate pride.
"Have some fun, old man!" William jeered, and Derek raised his chin in obvious offense. "I'm not-" He began blustering indignantly, but William just went right on, "I know I'm a better fisherman than you but, come on! Don't tell me you're too good to get your hands dirty."
"Oh, bloody hell!" Derek grumbled, scowling angrily, "I don't have time for-" He broke off, staring incredulously at Will as the other man flashed a youthful grin, and began making mocking chicken noises at him. With a disbelieving huff, Derek spat angrily, "Oh, real mature. Now you're calling me a chicken?" Will just grinned at him, and as Derek looked into his friend's now-adult face, all he saw was the young boy who had once been his entire world. Suddenly, he just couldn't resist any more.
Expression softening at last, he sighed and shook his head, lifting up the ancient wooden spear in his hand.
"I just know that I'm going to regret this..." He grumbled, edging toward the river and peering gingerly in. "This is so wrong..." He muttered under his breath, eyes locked intently on the silver shapes of fish darting by beneath the glistening surface of the river. "If anybody saw me behaving in such an unsightly fashion..."
He trailed off, his self-conscious grumbling drawing to a halt as he caught sight of a fish hovering still beneath the surface. He raised his spear, automatically taking up a fighting stance, and held the weapon still, poised to strike. In a flash, he had jabbed it down into the water, and when he lifted it, to his delight, he saw the fish impaled on the end.
"Ha!" He exclaimed, his face splitting into a grin without so much as a thought as he brandished the stick, waving it proudly in William's face, "Check it out! I've still got it!"
All sense of dignity forgotten, Derek found himself actually smiling for the first time in twelve years. And, at long, long last, a slight spark of light seemed to return to his hazel-green eyes.

"I just know that I'm going to regret this..." Derek grumbled, although he picked up the thin spear anyway. Archer beamed cockily at him, feeling rather proud of himself. It was like training an old horse to accept a rider. Once it was done, he'd not have to worry about it again. Derek peered into the river, his face a picture, and glanced awkwardly around for some fish. Archer took his time, leaning against a large rock and watching his friend with a little smirk as he'd always done when they were boys. Cocky as ever.
"This is so wrong..." Derek moaned again. "If anybody saw me behaving in such an unsightly fashion..."
"Oh, just stab the damned fish." Archer rolled his eyes, watching the water himself as a school of fish flashed passed him. Frowning in concentration he struck one of them, but when he raised his spear the fish had escaped. He cursed to himself.
There was a splash beside him. Then a loud noise escaped Derek's lips that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Check it out! I've still got it!" He jeered, waving the bloody fish in Archer's face.
Archer just started at him, an eyebrow raised. Then, when he was sure the man was being genuine, he allowed himself to laugh also. He shoved the stick end from his face, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, enjoy it while it lasts. I am an expert at-"
He stabbed at a fish, missed it, and in his frustration missed another two.
"Ok, I'm having a bad day." He grumbled. "But I'm still going to beat you. Just watch..." He rolled up his sleeves, then his trousers, and kicked off his boots."
"Beat this." He dared, stepping deeper into the river. "Bet you wouldn't dare try this, eh, squire?" He teased, winking at his friend. Then, when he turned to strike another fish he slipped onto the water with an almighty splash,
For a few moments he was underwater, but he soon resurfaced with a loud gasp and floated to the surface, spitting out some freshwater. With an annoyed grumble he swept his hair back, glanced down at his heavy, soaking clothes and shrugged. The water wasn't too cold, although he'd likely freeze when he finally got out. He unwrapped the scarves from around his neck and placed them on a dry rock by his boots. He then removed his heavy jacket and vest, so he was top-bare, and removed his chaps.
He glanced at his friend, blushed, and sank back into the water. "What? I meant to fall in the water." He winked, then dunked his head underwater, running his hands through his muddy hair.

Derek just folded his arms and watched smugly while Archer attempted to catch a fish, getting more an more frustrated each time he missed. Derek had to admit, it was amusing. It had been a long time since he had been able to see the humour in life, but with William around, how could he not?
"Oh, yes." He commented, nodding, "Completely expert, without a doubt."
"Ok, I'm having a bad day." Archer admitted irritably, "But I'm still going to beat you. Just watch..." Rolling up his pants and sleeves, Archer stepped into the water, and Derek just watched with one eyebrow raised. "Bet you wouldn't dare try this, eh, squire?" Archer challenged, and Derek just shook his head. He had absolutely no intention of getting wet.
"Of course I wouldn't." He answered, "I can catch fish from over here, so why should I?"
Ignoring his smug comments, Archer struck at a fish, then fell flat in the water. Derek dodged the splash, and again his lips twitched toward an amused smile as he teased, "If you're trying to lure them closer by acting like a fish, then I don't think it's working." He folded his arms, still faintly amused, and stepped closer to the river, regarding Archer from a safe distance. Then, much to his annoyance, Archer began to remove his soaking clothes, and Derek looked quickly away. For once in his life, he was glad of his mask, for it hid the blush on his cheeks.
Twelve years later... And still I don't see this man as I should... Derek mused anxiously, staring into the distance, and trying to push the image of his shirtless friend from his mind. This is wrong - I am a cleansed man! These impure thoughts are naught but cruel trickery...
"Have you no shame?" Derek snapped, turning on his friend irritably, "Put your clothes on, man. You're not a beggar!" He snatched up Archer's shirt, totally ignoring his joking, and tossed it at him. "Get dressed." He ordered, "This is quite enough nonsense. It's time we got a move on."
Clearly, the fright that Derek had gotten from his own thoughts had been enough to make him revert back to his stiff, closed-off nature, and any hint of the boy he had been before had vanished in a flash as Derek Argyle was replaced once again by the Duke's 'lapdog'.

Archer tried to ignore Derek's reaction, telling himself it was only a trick of the light that his friend's face had gone a subtle shade of pink. Why did he look so embarrassed? If anything Archer was supposed to be the one blushing, since the water was getting colder the faster it flowed.
"Have you no shame?" He asked, appalled, and Archer just shrugged. "I'm only bathing. The women like it, at least." He winked, and floated around, keeping a foot on the ground to keep him from being taken by the pull of the gushing water.
Derek ignored him. "Put your clothes on, man. You're not a beggar!" He scolded, tossing Derek his shirt, which he refused. What was the point getting it any wetter? "Get dressed. This is quite enough nonsense. It's time we got a move on."
Archer rolled his eyes. "To where, Derek? The nearest town is less than half a mile away. Besides, I still wish to talk to you. But first... I smell like a dead pig." He dunked his face in the water again. "And we don't all bathe in rose petals, you know."
He winked, put paddled towards the shore anyway. Derek was uncomfortable and he was getting cold. Still, it was his own fault for trying to best his friend at trout fishing.
He was wearing naught but a large pair of dark green trousers and some thick socks, and his thin, faintly toned frame twitched and trembled in the cold. Teeth chatting, he grabbed the driest of his jumpers and pulled it over himself, leaving the rest to dry. Hunched over with the cold he found a tree stump and perched himself on it, rubbing his cold arms, and began to gather a small pile of twigs by his feet. Then, grabbing a dry pair of rocks, he began to attempt to light the small fire.
"I missed the old you." He admitted, smiling slightly. "It was nice to see him for a moment back there."

Much to Derek's annoyance, Archer did not immediately obey his instructions like people normally did, and he was left to glare awkwardly in the opposite direction while Archer objected, "To where, Derek? The nearest town is less than half a mile away. Besides, I still wish to talk to you. But first... I smell like a dead pig. And we don't all bathe in rose petals, you know."
"I don't-" He began crisply, but then he broke off, sighing heavily. There was no point arguing with Will. He had come to realize that now.
Luckily, before Derek could become too uncomfortable, Archer finally decided to obey, and swam back over to the riverbank to redress himself.
Sighing heavily, and rapidly starting to look stressed again, Derek leaned against a nearby tree, and watched Archer with folded arms while he began trying to light a fire.
"I missed the old you." Archer admitted quietly as he worked, "It was nice to see him for a moment back there."
For some reason, these words unsettled him, and Derek looked away uncomfortably, unsure as to how to respond.
He drew in a deep breath and released it as a sigh, then walked over to Archer and sat down on a rock beside him, still managing to look dignified despite the unflattering setting.
"I suppose I'm a bit of a disappointment to you." Derek mused quietly, staring at his friend's unsuccessful attempts at starting the fire. "I'm surprised, really. You're much the same as when I last saw you, but I-" He broke off, shaking his head, and glanced away. "If you were in my shoes," He mumbled, "You would understand. The people have expectations for me, and I must meet them... That is my responsibility as the future Duke of Locksley." His jaw tightened, and Derek frowned in annoyance. Somehow, that excuse even sounded lame to him. It had nothing to do with expectations and responsibility... He had simply stopped fighting, and somehow lost himself through the repression.
"I... I will admit that it felt good to... To 'let go' a little bit." Derek murmured hesitantly, casting Archer a warm glance that might have been a smile if he'd properly remembered the gesture. With a sigh, Derek pushed his hair back from his face, and added in a more serious tone, "Go on, then. What do you want to talk about?"

Archer pretended to concentrate on the sparks flying off the soft rocks in his hands, but he felt his jaw clench as a strange sense of pressure began enclosing in to him as his friend sat beside him, although he wasn't sure why it was happening. He felt his cheeks blush again but he dismissed that as a reaction to the cold, and stared at a set of sparks that were heating up the twigs by his feet. Still, the fire refused to light.
"I suppose I'm a bit of a disappointment to you." His friend murmured, and Archer clenched his jaw to keep from arguing. Derek would never be a disappointment to him. He had too high expectations for himself, and he was blaming it on others. Archer was just glad he was alive and well, as opposed to a ghost of his imagination or a character in his nightmares. "I'm surprised, really. You're much the same as when I last saw you, but I-... If you were in my shoes. You would understand. The people have expectations for me, and I must meet them... That is my responsibility as the future Duke of Locksley."
Archer still didn't take his eyes off his attempted fire. The twigs were glowing slightly in some spots, but they still refused to set alight. He smashed the rocks together, more firmly this time.
Derek sounded old... Too old for the age that he was. It was heartbreaking, really. Archer had suffered many things with being thrown out of his house and losing his father, but being an outlaw he could do whatever he wanted, be whoever he wanted, go wherever he wished, when he wished. Derek had a reputation to keep up, not to mention his pig of a father.
"I understand." He murmured.
"I... I will admit that it felt good to... To 'let go' a little bit." He admitted quietly. But this seemed to make him uncomfortable, so he added seriously, "Go on, then. What do you want to talk about?"
Archer glanced up at him, half wanting his friend to look at him in the same heart-warming way that he'd just done. He wondered vaguely what that warm look may have looked like if he hadn't had the mask on. Then, with a sigh, he scratched the rocks together for one last time, blew against the twigs, and watched the small fire - hardly bigger than a candle light - alight the small patch of twigs and leaves he'd piled together.
"What I said earlier..." He murmured. "It-... It was unfair. More than that, it was cowardly of me. Really, I'm the last person who has the right to be saying those things." He looked down, evidently guilty, and began to warm his hands. "It's just..." He sighed. "When we stopped meeting after the-" He flicked his hand, gesturing to the kiss. "That, and when my father became a leper, I honestly thought I'd damned everyone. That I was evil. And when Mother finally threw me out, it was like-... I didn't know right from wrong anymore. I didn't remember the kiss earlier because I didn't want to remember, but-... Well, looking back, it had felt right. I just couldn't understand why something so wrong didn't feel it at the time." He sighed, then yanked his boots on miserably.
"I had too much time to think over the years, and I had no right to say what I said to you. I..." He lifted his eyes, sparkling excessively in the light of the small fire. "I apologise. Sincerely."

Folding his arms, Derek watched Archer patiently as he waited for his friend to explain himself. When he did, Derek had to admit that he was pleasantly surprised... "What I said earlier..." Archer murmured, "It-... It was unfair. More than that, it was cowardly of me. Really, I'm the last person who has the right to be saying those things." Feeling faintly pleased yet too proud to show it, Derek just shrugged, and responded simply. "Don't worry about it."
He expected Archer to stop there, but to his surprise, his friend had more to say on the subject.
So we're actually discussing this, are we...? I suppose we've stalled long enough.
His hands clenched in his lap, and he dropped his gaze as Archer continued, "It's just... When we stopped meeting after the-" He flicked his hand, continuing their unspoken agreement not to mention the kiss, "That, and when my father became a leper, I honestly thought I'd damned everyone. That I was evil. And when Mother finally threw me out, it was like-... I didn't know right from wrong anymore. I didn't remember the kiss earlier because I didn't want to remember, but-... Well, looking back, it had felt right. I just couldn't understand why something so wrong didn't feel it at the time."
Derek's jaw clenched, and he twisted his hands together anxiously. He truly did feel for his friend, but more than that, he felt he could empathize with him. In the aftermath of that... That 'moment', he too had felt the painful grip of confusion setting in. He too had felt like a child tainted by the Devil himself, and his father's reaction had done nothing to help. Luckily, he had been cleansed, and he was perfectly willing to believe that whatever demon had caused his impure thoughts had been chased far from him. It was all in the past, now.
"I had too much time to think over the years, and I had no right to say what I said to you. I..." Archer's voice reached his ears again, and Derek looked up to meet his friend's glassy gaze, the tiny flames reflected in his eyes. "I apologise. Sincerely."
Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Derek held his silence a moment, then replied quietly, "There's no need to apologise, Will. What I did back then..." He swallowed uncomfortably, "It was wrong. I was young and foolish and I-" He broke off, shaking his head, "I condemned you. You were - are - my closest friend, and I condemned you. If anybody should be apologising, it's me." A flicker of discomfort jolted through him, and Derek shifted anxiously on his rock. He was not used to admitting fault. This one, however, had been eating at him for long enough.
"I'll admit," He said quietly, "I resented you for years, because of what I endured to save your life..." He uttered a snort of bitter amusement, "Looking back now, and hearing your side, I feel a fool. I was always in the wrong. I deserved every word you said to me, and more." He swallowed, kicking at a loose stone on the ground, and nearly smiled as he added, more lightheartedly, "I should thank you, really. It's rather humbling to have somebody treat me like dirt every once in a while." He glanced up at Archer then, meeting his gaze at last. Little by little, the light seemed to be returning to his eyes. Out of the public eye, Derek's hidden side was gradually being reborn.

Archer spend a few long, painful moments expecting Derek not to accept his apology, or only add on to the things Archer had done wrong in the small amount of time he'd been home. But thankfully, the man's eyes were warm, and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders now he'd released the words from his lips.
"There's no need to apologise, Will. What I did back then..." Derek looked slightly uncomfortable. "It was wrong. I was young and foolish and I-... I condemned you. You were - are - my closest friend, and I condemned you. If anybody should be apologising, it's me."
Archer nodded, but he felt somewhere deep inside him go hollow. Really, he knew the kiss had been wrong. Ungodly, evil, maybe. But how could such terrible things spur from something so... So small and innocent? They had just been boys at the time. Neither of them deserved the treatment they'd got.
"I'll admit, I resented you for years, because of what I endured to save your life..." Archer winced at the thought of what his friend had had to go through all those years ago. "Looking back now, and hearing your side, I feel a fool. I was always in the wrong. I deserved every word you said to me, and more." Archer frowned at this, but when he was about to object he noticed a spark in his friend's eyes that wasn't there before - and it definitely wasn't a trick of the firelight when he said, "I should thank you, really. It's rather humbling to have somebody treat me like dirt every once in a while."
"You fool," Archer scolded, although he couldn't help but smirk. He pushed the man playfully on the shoulder and shook his head. "If anything, I'm not worth the dirt off your shoe." He winked, then studied the man's face again. Was that the twitch of a smile he could see?
"There it is," He grinned, pointing faintly to Derek's hesitant lips. "That's what I was looking for! See? Your smile's just as jolly as it was when you were a boy, Derek." He winked. "If you wore it more often you'd probably gain the respect of the populace a little quicker, eh?" He elbowed the man playfully in the side, then added, "I bet the women go crazy for a handsome young duke like yourself, don't they? The mask is a nice touch." He nodded to the small, white mask, like it was some sort of fashion accessory. "You'd woo any woman with that at a ball."

"You fool," Archer scolded, smirking, "If anything, I'm not worth the dirt off your shoe." "Oh please." Derek scoffed, but before he could lodge any objection, Archer had shoved his shoulder playfully, and he felt himself mellow slightly at the gesture, his tense expression relaxing still a little more. He truly had missed this man. It had been far too long since anybody had shown him affection, and he couldn't even begin to explain how good it was to feel like somebody again. Not somebody important... Just... Just somebody.
Just as he found himself relaxing, Derek heard Archer exclaim teasingly, "There it is," He looked up to find his friend pointing at his face, grinning. Slowly, Derek's lips twitched into a smile. He couldn't help it; Archer's grin was just that contagious. "That's what I was looking for!" His friend cheered happily, "See? Your smile's just as jolly as it was when you were a boy, Derek. If you wore it more often you'd probably gain the respect of the populace a little quicker, eh?"
"There's nothing to smile about in politics." Derek objected grumpily, but when Archer elbowed him in the side, he just ended up smiling again, his face aching from using unfit muscles. "I bet the women go crazy for a handsome young duke like yourself, don't they?" Archer went on, still teasing, "The mask is a nice touch. You'd woo any woman with that at a ball."
Snorting in amusement, Derek shook his head, looking over at Archer with something akin to fondness. "You're so naive." He pointed out, not unkindly, "Finding a woman willing to wed with this," He gestured vaguely to himself, "Has not been easy, I'll tell you that. I wish I had thought of going to a ball..." Derek broke off, actually chuckling slightly, and shook his head slightly as he finished, "As usual, you're just a few steps ahead of me." He looked up at his friend, his smile coming more easily now, and said warmly, "Thank you, Will. You've reminded me of parts of myself I wasn't even sure existed. I haven't smiled like this..." He trailed off, nearly grinning as he shook his head, "God, I don't think I've smiled once in the last twelve years until now. That's a little sad, isn't it?"

"You're so naive." Derek commented, and Archer just rolled his eyes. Just because his world was black and white... "Finding a woman willing to wed with this," he gestured to himself, "Has not been easy, I'll tell you that. I wish I had thought of going to a ball..."
"Well, of course not." Archer teased. "Who's naive now?" He snickered, then focused back on the small fire by his feet. He shuddered slightly on the cold.
"As usual, you're just a few steps ahead of me."
Archer shrugged, no at all denying it, and picked up his soaking undershirt. He tossed it up on a low branch, then grabbed the rest of his clothes and did the same. They'd be cold by the morning, but at least they'd be dry.
He had to admit, it was rather rewarding knowing he was helping an old friend out. Not in a thousand years would he have thought that he, a petty thief, hated by many, could cause such a big difference to someone's life. In a good way, too!
They met eyes, and Archer felt a warmth in him he'd forgotten existed at the sight of the fond smile in his friend's lips. "Thank you, Will. You've reminded me of parts of myself I wasn't even sure existed. I haven't smiled like this..." Derek grinned. "God, I don't think I've smiled once in the last twelve years until now. That's a little sad, isn't it?"
Raising an eyebrow Archer shook his head in mock bewilderment. "That-... I'm sorry, that is tragic." He snickered. "And d'you know what it means?" He placed a firm hand on Derek's shoulder and squeezed it, then grinned cheekily. "It means you have some catching up to do, squire!"
He chuckled and stretched his arms over his head, yawning. It had been a long, eventful day. Both in the good and bad ways.
"I take it you've found a dame, then?" One side of his mouth pulled into a dark smirk. His eyes shadowed over. "Go on then. What's she like? Quiet? Obedient? Pleasing?" He made a crude gesture to imaginary breasts, grinning stupidly at his friend. "If you know what I mean." He winked.

Derek rolled his eyes at Archer's snickering response, then glanced over at him when he felt the man's hand squeeze his shoulder. "And d'you know what it means?" Archer went on, "It means you have some catching up to do, squire!"
"Well..." Derek muttered to himself, "I'm not so sure about that."
After all, it would be back to the real world for him on the morrow. Back in his world, there was neither the time nor the opportunity to be smiling about things. He supposed that Archer, with all his careless freedom, would be unable to understand such a sentiment.
"I take it you've found a dame, then?" Archer asked, and Derek glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Go on then. What's she like? Quiet? Obedient? Pleasing? ...If you know what I mean." He uttered a huff of disgust at the crude gesture that followed, looking away uncomfortably in his dignified fashion. Frankly, the idea of such things had always repulsed him, but he supposed that was due to the fact that he'd not had much interaction with women, really. His mother had died at a young age, and Derek had never really learned to interact with the opposite sex, much less make love. Of course, it was to be assumed that he would figure it out soon, given that he was to be married. He shuddered at the thought. Even twelve years from the day that he had confessed to Will his horror at having to find a bride, the idea of marriage still did not appeal to him any more.
With a heavy sigh, he answered his friend in a dignified fashion, "I don't know what she's like. She is the daughter of some nobleman across the sea." His jaw clenched slightly as he went on, "I am to board a ship tomorrow, and I ought to meet with her when I arrive in Brightwell village. I suppose I'll bring her back here with me after we're married, and tolerate her until I die." He mused dispassionately, a note of bitter sarcasm in his voice. It was obvious that Derek had still not come to terms with his fate, but he did not bother to fight it, either. Perhaps he simply didn't believe that trying to change his fate would make things any better... Happiness was an abstract concept to him. Like the unicorns of the forests or the leprechauns of Ireland, it was a thing existent only in the dreams of a child, to be toyed with in the deepest corners of imagination.
In real life, the role of a man was to grit his teeth, and take each day with a pinch of salt.
"What about you?" Derek questioned dully when he grew bored of brooding, casting Will a questioning glance, "Has an outlaw like you managed to woo some poor lass into being his wife?"

Archer was somewhat taken aback by his friend's reaction, and wondered vaguely what he'd said that deserved such a look of disgust. Was his crudeness too much? Too honest? Well, he couldn't help it, he was only being honest. The chest was the first thing he looked for in a woman. Face came second.
When Derek finally replied, the mile had left his face. "I don't know what she's like. She is the daughter of some nobleman across the sea." He murmured with a hint of bitterness. "I am to board a ship tomorrow, and I ought to meet with her when I arrive in Brightwell village. I suppose I'll bring her back here with me after we're married, and tolerate her until I die."
Archer looked mortified. "You're saying she could have the face of a pig's arse and you're still going to marry her?" He just couldn't understand it... Was a man's title more important than his freedom? Not to mention his libido. Archer couldn't imagine a life where he was only allowed to have his hands on one woman. Why would anyone do it? Lifetime love didn't exist, it was just a pathetic excuse to keep from killing the one you're married to. It was like eating the same thing for breakfast, dinner, and tea. Where was the variety?
"What about you?" Derek asked, seemingly only half interested.
"What about me?"
"Has an outlaw like you managed to woo some poor lass into being his wife?"
Archer snorted. The thought was far too preposterous for him. "I don't do marriage." He grunted, poking the small fire with a small twig. Then he seemed to realise what Derek had been implying, and his face scrunched in mock annoyance. "Hey! Believe it or not, sir, I have quite the charm for the ladies." He nodded, as if to emphasize his point. "Yeah, they fall at my feet. Really. You should have seen the blonde I caught yesterday morning. The poor girl couldn't keep her hands off me."
He raised his chin proudly, as if it were something to be proud about.
"But no," he sighted, shrinking back into his shoulders. "I've no intention of finding a wife. What would we do? We wouldn't be able to settle down because of the life I've created for myself, wouldn't be able to have children, wouldn't be able to make any friends..." He shrugged. "It would be selfish of me to drag any woman down to that level."
He spent a long moment staring at the fire, frowning. He'd not admitted that to anyone, but he was glad it was out. Glad it was Derek.
"Say..." He sat up, glancing thoughtfully at Derek. "If you're going to be a while, why don't I come with you? You need a lesson from Master William on wooing a lady if you're going to get anything worth something out of this dame, especially in the bedroom." He elbowed the man lightheartedly again, winking.

"I don't do marriage." Archer grunted, and Derek raised an eyebrow coolly. Then Archer seemed to catch his drift, and with an insulted expression, exclaimed, "Hey! Believe it or not, sir, I have quite the charm for the ladies. Yeah, they fall at my feet. Really. You should have seen the blonde I caught yesterday morning. The poor girl couldn't keep her hands off me." Face scrunching in distaste, Derek just shook his head, and muttered, "How crude. You truly do have no shame."
His friend ignored this, but when he spoke again, Derek noted a seriousness in his voice that had not been there before. "But no, I've no intention of finding a wife." Archer admitted, and Derek frowned at his subdued voice, although he was not entirely displeased. He recognized that voice. It was the one that William used when he was being truly open with him, and not just belying the truth with a joke. Frankly, Derek appreciated it. "What would we do?" Archer went on, "We wouldn't be able to settle down because of the life I've created for myself, wouldn't be able to have children, wouldn't be able to make any friends... It would be selfish of me to drag any woman down to that level."
Considering this a moment, Derek frowned, then nodded. "I suppose you have a point." He agreed, "If you were to be married, it would have to be with a clean slate and new life..." He glanced at Archer, realized that he wasn't listening, then shrugged and trailed off. He had no words of comfort in any case. Denied of sympathy himself for most of his life, he had rather forgotten how to show it.
"Say..." Archer sat up suddenly, expression brightening, and Derek turned to him with a questioning glance. "If you're going to be a while, why don't I come with you? You need a lesson from Master William on wooing a lady if you're going to get anything worth something out of this dame, especially in the bedroom." Derek grunted in revulsion at this, wrinkling his nose at his friend's crudeness, and just flinched tensely when he was elbowed in the ribs. "I don't need any 'lessons'," He retorted sharply, "Thank you very much, 'master'." The sarcastic sneer dropped from his voice then, and with a contemplative frown, he added, "I would not deny your company, though, if you chose to join me. Truth be told, I'm rather displeased by the whole ordeal..." He trailed off, sighing, "I'd rather enjoy the sight of a friendly face before I have to sell myself into the world of the old and decrepit." He uttered a bitter huff, and added, "I wish I had a choice in this matter. Perhaps, were it not arranged for me, I might not scorn the concept of marriage quite so much. But as it is..." He trailed off, frowning, and muttered, "It may be unsightly to admit it, but I can't stand that I must be sold into matrimony like a stallion to stud just to uphold my family's reputation." His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he confessed, "Sometimes I wish I could just be myself for once. Not my father's son... Just me. If I had my way, perhaps my life would be a very different one."

At Derek's sharp response, Archer raised his hands in a surrendering fashion, shaking his head in amusement. "All I'm saying is, my friend, that you need to lighten up." He murmured, but when he was about to continue, Derek seemed to have changed his tune.
"I would not deny your company, though, if you chose to join me. Truth be told, I'm rather displeased by the whole ordeal... I'd rather enjoy the sight of a friendly face before I have to sell myself into the world of the old and decrepit."
Archer curled his lip in empathy for his poor friend. He had to admit he saluted his friend for managing to cling on to his sanity despite the traumatising ordeal he would have to go through, and he'd happily help out with charming this woman, whether Derek wanted help or not. Either way they looked at it, he needed help, and Archer was the best man to do that for him.
"I wish I had a choice in this matter. Perhaps, were it not arranged for me, I might not scorn the concept of marriage quite so much. But as it is... It may be unsightly to admit it, but I can't stand that I must be sold into matrimony like a stallion to stud just to uphold my family's reputation."
Archer frowned. Well... Of course he couldn't really relate - being at the bottom of the food chain and all - but... Well, why should Derek have to go through all this for a man who had earlier tried to kill him? How did the Duke deserve getting his own way yet again?
"Sometimes I wish I could just be myself for once. Not my father's son... Just me. If I had my way, perhaps my life would be a very different one."
Archer sighed, looking down at the dying flame by his feet. "Well, if you don't mind me asking, why can't you?" He frowned thoughtfully, then glanced up at Derek with a questioning gaze. "You're a powerful man, Derek. Not as powerful as your father, mind you, but still powerful. As long as people know who you are they should do anything you ask them to."
Now he sounded really naive, but he couldn't understand it himself.
"Besides which, you're still planning on going with the orders of a man who just tried to kill you? Honestly, what could he possibly do that he hasn't already tried?" He asked calmly, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you deserve a bit more than this?"

"Why can't I?" Derek repeated incredulously, staring at Archer in disbelief, "What sort of a question is that?" He was about to comment on Archer's naivety, but then he remembered that his friend had lived a very different life to him, and he caught himself before he could insult the one person worth a damn to him. "Listen, Will..." He mumbled, feeling a subtle warmth upon using his old friend's name, "It's just not that simple. I don't do this because my father says I should. I do it because I must." He clenched his jaw, and raised his head in quiet dignity as he went on, "He may be my father, but that man is little more than a stranger to me. I lost my father the day he found out about us." He waved the memory off with a flick of his hand, still to uncomfortable to dwell on it, and instantly returned to his point, "The thing is, my father is falling from power, and I am rising to it. If I am to become the Duke of Locksley, then I must fit society's mould. I must have a loyal wife at my side, a son to train up as my heir, and a certain political image befitting of one of my stature. I've worked hard over the years to create all of that despite-" His hand flicked toward his mask, and he continued, "I was born into nobility, whether I am suited to it or not, and now I have a responsibility to uphold. For the sake of my people, I must replace my father as Duke. If I don't, who knows what could become of Locksley..." He trailed off, shaking his head, and murmured, "I know that if you were in my shoes, William, you would do the same." His jaw clenched, and he added quietly, "But sometimes I do wish that power didn't come at quite so high a cost."
Derek kicked at a loose stone on the ground, then seemed to close himself away again somewhat as he said, "Come, we must move on. It is late, and I must be back at my inn in time to rest before my trip tomorrow. We've lingered here long enough."

Archer flinched away at Derek's reaction, feeling the downgrading look in the man's eyes cause his own shoulders to shrink into each other. He just couldn't understand it... In a world where an outlaw could do as he pleased at the price of his head, he couldn't comprehend why those with ultimate power had to follow the rules.
"It's just not that simple. I don't do this because my father says I should. I do it because I must.[i]"
[i]Why? Archer wanted to ask. He... He just didn't understand. If Derek's father hadn't told him to do it, wasn't that all the more reason not to do it? Let nature take it's course, so to speak? At least then he'd be able to choose his own wife...
But when Derek began to explain, Archer realised: he didn't have a choice. Derek had blood to pass down, important blood. Not dirty blood like Archer, who was worth nothing to anyone. He was getting married to have children so he could pass down through generations so the King wouldn't send over some worthless idiot who the populace won't trust.
But still...
"I know that if you were in my shoes, William, you would do the same." Derek added, although he seemed to be half convincing himself, also. Archer shook his head subtly. They both know he wouldn't, hence why he would make a terrible nobleman. Still... "But sometimes I do wish that power didn't come at quite so high a cost."
Thy were both silent after this. Archer couldn't say anything to comfort his friend, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. He wasn't always very good at being nice, anyway.
After a while, Derek kicked a loose pebble miserably on the ground and said something about setting off towards the town again. Archer glanced longingly up at his clothes, wishing they were dryer, then nodded and stamped out the tiny fire. He then grabbed his soaking clothes and pulled them gingerly on - he had to remove the cold jacket to do this - and then added his scarves.
Teeth chattering, he pulled himself to his feet. Little Brother lifted his head from the shadows, glancing questioningly at the two. Archer whistled quietly to him and the stocky pony wandered slowly over, rubbing his head affectionately against Archer's chest.
"Hey, you lazy boy." Archer mused, patting his broad neck. "Were you asleep just then?"
The stallion groaned.
"Come on," he took the pony's reins and clucked him forward, then turned back to Derek, evidently shaking with the cold. "C-come o-on... L-let's-s g-get g-going..." He shivered then took a deep breath, and added, "W-what time d-does the ship-p leave?"

Derek stood when Archer did, and turned away while his friend dressed. Arms folded, he stared toward the dark horizon, until at last Archer appeared beside him, chatting animatedly to his pony. Derek shot the animal a cautious glance. He had secretly been rather wary of horses ever since being dragged through town behind one. He always chose to avoid them where possible, and when he was forced to be around them, he still tended to keep his distance.
Swallowing anxiously, he walked on, leaving Archer to follow him. Soon enough, his friend caught up, and turned to him to ask through chattering teeth, "W-what time d-does the ship-p leave?" Derek turned his gaze to the freezing man, casting him a pitying glance, then sighed heavily and began shrugging off his coat as he answered, "It leaves at 6AM. Don't be late if you're going to come - I won't hold them up for your sake."
Flicking his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, Derek handed it grudgingly to Archer, still keeping his distance from the pony.
"Here." He grunted sharply, "It won't do to have you catching your death out here. Get those wet clothes off and put this on."
Goosebumps were riding on his own bare arms from the chill, but Derek's hard gaze warned not to mention his generosity. He, at least, had a dry shirt, albeit a sleeveless one. It wouldn't do to have Archer shivering beside him the whole way back to town.
Little Brother wandered curiously toward him at that point, so Derek just tossed his coat to Archer and pressed on, picking up the pace as though in a hurry. His fists clenched at his sides, arm muscles bulging elegantly from subtle tension as he trolled through the forest with his usual noble stance.