Chapter Text
The candle lights flickered in the windows of Locksley Manor, dancing in unknown patterns and reflecting their jolly shadows on the walls around them. The courtyard was bursting and bustling with activity; workers, villagers, and servants alike all flocking to and fro in the crisp winter evening. In the chilled air, the wafting smells of cake and spice enticed all those around. Handsome wreaths and decorations were hanging from every post and doorframe and carts of harvest littered every corner.
Christmas had begun.
Every year without fail, Locksley Manor hosted an open celebration on Christmas Eve. It had always been a joyous celebration, where generosity and hospitality flowed as freely as the spiced mead. For weeks, the women of the village had been using their free time to help Marion and her ladies decorate the courtyards with all manners of flowers and plants. For his part, Robin had been overseeing the construction of several quaint gazebos and transporting all the food and drink into the Manor. All in all, it was quite an ordeal.
In the crisp dusk, finally preparations were taking place, and the first guests were milling through the gates. Robin and Marian stood and welcomed the bustling crowds with wide smiles and warm words.
But as Robin looked around, there was only one thing off with the whole organisation, only one person missing.
‘So, where is our young master Locksley this evening?’
Robin whipped his head down to mock-scowl at his wife, who was hiding a mischievous giggle behind her gloved hand. Her eyes twinkled with mirth and Robin leaned down to gently kiss her smiling lips.
Her words were teasing: nothing more, nothing less. It had been over a year since the old Sherrif had died and Robin’s name had been cleared, and about the same since Will had moved into Locksley Manor. In that time, the three of them had become something of a family – small and often dysfunctional, but family nonetheless. There was trust among them, there was love. ‘
Because of this, Robin knew that Will had not ran away into the forest, he knew that he wasn’t sulking away on his own. No, the brothers were long past such displays.
‘I sent him to invite the Merry Men to our rooms for a party this evening,’ Robin explained with a sense of pride and confidence. ‘It’s been too long since we have all been together. The lad was awfully excited.’
Marian smiled indulgently, reading Robin’s hidden musings with ease.
‘He has truly accepted his place in our family,’ she agreed warmly.
Robin hummed in agreement, absentmindedly placing his hand on her gently rounding stomach. Marian smiled up at him, placing her hand on top of her husband’s.
‘Especially with our new addition.’
It was well into the middling hours before the crowds began to thin and the drink started to dry up. Children who had spent hours running all over the estate started to whine for their beds and friends chuckled their last goodbyes. Eventually, all that was left was an ecelectic group of Merry Men and their families.
‘I think Marion and I had best take our leave, but remember to join us shortly.’ Robin’s invite was met with healthy chuckles and assorted agreements, not to mention plenty of ribbing from Bull and Much.
Helping Marion to her feet, Robin called over his shoulder to Will.
‘Remember to see the last of the guests out safely, brother!’
Will called back in agreement, blissfully unaware of this domestic shock.
‘Well, look at you Will,’ John joked, ‘Sitting there all reformed! A perfect little lordling!’
‘Oh, give it up, Little,’ he threw back. ‘This is all your fault for inviting him into camp years ago.’
The men joked around him, passing comment about his newfound place in the world. He tried his best to shoot back and deny it. Robin joined in the fray before he made to leave once again. Will whinged and whined.
But he shared a small smile with his brother as the group made its way up to Robin and Marian’s rooms.
It was early in the morning when the wine and pleasant chatter stopped flowing quite so readily. The company, so well enjoyed throughout the night’s revelries, started to make their exits and return to their guest rooms.
The Littles left first, shortly after nightfall, a gaggle of children filing out into the halls followed by Fanny’s clucking and John’s hasty but hearty thanks. This exit is closely followed by the straggling Merry Men. That night, they certainly earned their name; tipsy and loudly proclaiming their intentions to fill the pockets of nearby tavern men while the night was still young. Azeem took his leave next, not too early and not too late: the man was ever punctual. He gave his customary thanks and departed with a dignified bow to the Lord and Lady of the house and a small fond look at Will.
Eventually, even Marian excused herself to their chambers, smiling at her husband and his nearly dozing brother. She leaned over to press a kiss to Robin’s cheek, and with that was gone.
With everyone gone, Robin lowered himself onto the large furs covering the stones in front of the fire. He stared into the glowing coals, just beginning to smoulder after hours of use.
Something about the comforting warmth of the fire, the cozy and relaxed atmosphere, and his little brother’s soft snores from beside him put Robin in a reflective mood. He smiled wryly at his brother’s sleeping form and shuffled closer to his chair. With a soft tap on Will’s shoulder, the boy blinked awake and frowned.
‘Come, little brother,’ Robin placated. ‘Join me by the fire.’
Will grumbled, but Robin knew him well enough to know the hidden fondness behind this dance. His brother uncurled his limbs and moved to sit by Robin; tentative at first but relaxing with each movement closer.
Robin chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair.
‘Shut up,’ Will muttered, before plonking himself down at Robin’s side, shoulders touching.
The fires crackled and spit before them, the flames performing elaborate dances with an easy grace across the charred wooden logs. Each tendril intertwining briefly before darting away, only to return with a renewed vigour: the eternal choreography.
And with every passing minute, the coiled spring that was Will seemed to unwind a little more.
Robin stared into the flames with his brother, enjoying the companionable silence that would have been impossible just mere months ago. Every so often, he spared a glance at his little brother, drinking in his relaxed nature and contented smile.
With Will, it seemed, patience was key.
All those weeks spent fighting in the woods, the tense insecurity of getting to know one another, and the surprising difficulty of cracking Will’s shell: all of it was leading up to this moment of quiet victory. A moment so mundane and domestic, so still and unremarkable, that to anyone else, its significance would go uncharted.
Eventually, the wood started to disappear, and the room grew dim. Will’s eyelids drooped once again, the fist coming up to knuckle his eyelids accompanied by a quiet yawn.
Robin smiled softly at his brother’s antics and leaned back on his hands, fully prepared to excuse himself for the night. when a solid weight gently landed on his sternum. Blinking, Robin glanced down at the messy sandy hair and ruffled collar.
Fondly, he raised a hand to cover the crown of Will’s head, encouraging the boy to lean more fully on Robin’s strength. Will mumbled gently and burrowed near to his brother’s heart.
Robin smiled.
In the end, it all had worked out. They were brothers. They were family.
‘I’ll take this night watch, then, little brother.’