Sir Guy's diary
Disclaimer, so no one calls the police: this is the fictional diary of Sir Guy of Gisborne from the Robin Hood BBC TV series. This season he basically has two settings: homicidal or suicidal, so please also consider this a trigger warning.
Disclaimer 2: Guy is a miserable idiot.
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20th September? Time begins to lose all meaning down here.
Dear Diary,
Meg reminds me of you, Marian. Oh, not in the way she won't stop talking, or the way she can't abide the slightest discomfort - you were never so fragile! But she sees good in me, where there is none - as you once did, before I shattered that illusion.
It is merely because I have shown her the slightest compassion. Her bread was maggoty, and I brushed the creatures from it - I long ago learned not to be squeamish - so she would not go hungry. It was just courtesy to a fellow prisoner, a woman, more delicate than myself. I did nothing more, aside from responding to her chatter - and only because she constantly needled me for answers! And perhaps I smiled at her. I could not help myself: she was being absurd.
So when Isabella returned to free her (having apparently dealt with Thornton), it was to my utter surprise that Meg interceded on my behalf, asking for my freedom. For a moment, I felt... I am not even sure what I felt. Disbelief, confusion... and a distant flicker of hope - an emotion that has become almost alien to me. But Isabella would not listen, of course, and my sentence stands. Her bitterness is almost frightening - I begin to wonder if she has been driven mad.
So now Meg has gone, taking hope with her, and I am alone again in this dank cell. I do not fear to die, Marian - I know the Nottingham executioner keeps his blade sharp! - but I fear what awaits me. I have earned myself a fine seat in Hell - and I earned it upon your body. You tried to help me, but I was greedy, I wanted more than you were ever willing to give. And when I finally realised that you would never be mine, I cast aside every last scrap of humanity I might once have possessed. My wrath, my selfishness, my pride, my fear - they were my undoing. But my worst crime was that I brought you down, too.
I wish I could pray, but I cannot find the words. I am sorry, Marian, for everything I have done.
Disclaimer 2: Guy is a miserable idiot.
---
20th September? Time begins to lose all meaning down here.
Dear Diary,
Meg reminds me of you, Marian. Oh, not in the way she won't stop talking, or the way she can't abide the slightest discomfort - you were never so fragile! But she sees good in me, where there is none - as you once did, before I shattered that illusion.
It is merely because I have shown her the slightest compassion. Her bread was maggoty, and I brushed the creatures from it - I long ago learned not to be squeamish - so she would not go hungry. It was just courtesy to a fellow prisoner, a woman, more delicate than myself. I did nothing more, aside from responding to her chatter - and only because she constantly needled me for answers! And perhaps I smiled at her. I could not help myself: she was being absurd.
So when Isabella returned to free her (having apparently dealt with Thornton), it was to my utter surprise that Meg interceded on my behalf, asking for my freedom. For a moment, I felt... I am not even sure what I felt. Disbelief, confusion... and a distant flicker of hope - an emotion that has become almost alien to me. But Isabella would not listen, of course, and my sentence stands. Her bitterness is almost frightening - I begin to wonder if she has been driven mad.
So now Meg has gone, taking hope with her, and I am alone again in this dank cell. I do not fear to die, Marian - I know the Nottingham executioner keeps his blade sharp! - but I fear what awaits me. I have earned myself a fine seat in Hell - and I earned it upon your body. You tried to help me, but I was greedy, I wanted more than you were ever willing to give. And when I finally realised that you would never be mine, I cast aside every last scrap of humanity I might once have possessed. My wrath, my selfishness, my pride, my fear - they were my undoing. But my worst crime was that I brought you down, too.
I wish I could pray, but I cannot find the words. I am sorry, Marian, for everything I have done.