FanFic - Other
"Destiny's Circle"
Part 5
by kath7
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Roswell nor from the Robin Hood legend. I am just borrowing them. Some original ideas by ddawn and Angel_Parker. The character of Parkyla was created by Sunnie D.
Summary: This story is based on an idea that came out of a RPG that is currently ongoing on the Fanforum Roswell Board called Detention Adventures (Detentioned Boswellians.) In it, two of our talented authors (Hi Angel_Parker and ddawn!) have created the idea that everything that happens in Roswell-land is on a continuous loop - meaning that Max, Isabel, Tess and Michael have been on Earth many times before, have returned to their planet and have been killed each time. Their "essences" have been re-cloned and they have been re-sent to Earth to try and get it right. Time on Earth continues to move forward with each loop, thus everytime our pod squad returns, they return to a different time period. My story has added to this idea - basically I believe that two mistakes in the current, contemporary loop of the TV show have affected the destiny of the four: These two events are 1)Nasedo being captured after the Crash and consequentially losing Max, Isabel and Michael 2) Max's healing of Liz. I love the idea of reincarnation and soulmates, thus I have decided to create the story of Max and Liz through the centuries as they just miss changing Max' s destiny each time. I already know that the story is going to end in our time, with the healing of Liz at the Crashdown....where it is going to go to get there, I do not, hopefully this will work! This first part of the story is set in Medieval England and is based on the Robin Hood legend.
Category: Other
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: This story is dedicated to my pals on the Detentioned Boswellians RPG. They are, in no particular order: pbwin, ddawn, Sunnie D, hookt, Maria, sjton, Ivy_English, Angel_Parker, cheetah, Phaedra and Shortiegirl. If I forgot someone, please just kill me. LOL
The girl stepped from the tent, adjusting the hood that was pulled tightly over her head, assuring that it wouldn't fall down. She had wept a little when she had hacked off her long strawberry blonde hair with her dinner knife as few minutes before, but now her blue eyes were dry and determined. She wore a brown tunic and brown leggings and a long brown cloak that she was going to have to remove if she wanted to truly win.

And she did want to win. More than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

Mary Delucie of Whitfield had heard the Sheriff's announcement and had breathed a sigh of relief when she had heard him announce that the registration of competitors would be waived. Now she would not have to face him down at the table. She had waited until the last possible moment to leave the tent that Alexander had reserved for her. The least time she spent on the field, the better. She did not want to be caught before she even had a chance to begin.

As Mary caught up with the band of competitors being herded onto the field, she spared a glance towards the noble's gallery. She caught sight of Elizabeth seated quietly beside the Queen. Her friend was gazing intently at something, although Mary could not decipher what from this distance. She was quite certain, however, that it was not her betrothed, Sir Kyle the Supremely Boring.

Mary giggled quietly to herself as she reflected on the conversation she and Lizzy had had in the bed they shared the evening before. It had begun as a serious conversation about the chances of Elizabeth coming to love Sir Kyle, but had quickly disintegrated into a competition about who could come up with the most ridiculous title for the poor man. Elizabeth's best contribution had been Sir Kyle the Ridiculously Arrogant, while Mary had been partial to the aforementioned Lord Supremely Boring.

Mary forced herself to silence when the man walking in front of her turned and regarded her with interest. She lowered her head quickly, but not before meeting dark, questioning eyes. She forced back another giggle as she reflected: * That man has the messiest hair I have ever beheld. * Fortunately messy-head was quite tall. Mary decided that she would try and stay behind him as much as possible.

As the competitors reached the field, Mary began to assess her competition. Her brother Alexander had entered of course, but she had ever been able to best him with a bow. His talent had always laid in sword-play.

Lord Supremely Boring was no worry at all. He was as incompetant at archery as he was with the sword. He would be easily beaten.

There were several yeoman entered as well. Mary recognized Tom of Locksley, who might prove a challenge. He was quite handy with a crossbow, but she was not too worried. She knew his nerves were bad. He would never hold up under the pressure. The others would no doubt be competant, but no match for her.

That left the two well-dressed strangers, messy-head and his companion. Messy-head's companion looked determined, but distracted, which was a good sign. If his concentraton was not totally on the matter at hand, she could beat him. She followed the direction of his gaze and realized that he was staring at Elizabeth, seated in the gallery. To Mary's surprise, Elizabeth was staring right back.

Mary took a closer look. Elizabeth's admirer was really quite handsome, in a serious way. She could understand Lizzy's interest. He's not as good-looking as messy-head, but then...

Now wait! Where did that come from !* Mary turned and stared at messy-head from beneath her hood. His chiseled features accentuated his dark, brooding eyes. He was tall and rangy but had the appearance of great strength. And he was staring right at her suspiciously!

Mary quickly turned away and focused on the targets at the far end of the field. There were currently three, but as the group of competitors dwindled, they would begin to use one...

She quickly dropped her head as the Sheriff came to stand in front of them for last minute instructions.

"Very well gentleman - the competition will begin forthwith. Every man will loose three arrows consecutivelly. The five competitors with the best three shots will move on to the second round. The last five will have one arrow each. The best shot will win the arrow and the kiss." Mary's head snapped up at the mention of the kiss. She looked at Alexander questioningly. He was watching her, a bemused expression on his face, but gave no clue as to the answer to the kiss question. * Oh well! I'll find out soon enough. *

The competitors ranged along a marked line in the grass. Mary found herself positioned between Alexander and messy-head. She could see that messy-head was watching her from the corner of his eye. * He's assessing the competition too! * She realized with delight. * Maybe I'll have some fun after all! *

As each man stepped forward to take his turn, Mary was horrified to realize that the Sheriff was asking for each of their names so that he could announce it to the crowd. * Heavenly Father! What am I to do! He'll recognize my voice for certain! *

Mary felt Alexander knudge her. "Courage! I'll take care of it." Messy-head looked at the two of them sharply, but then turned back to watch Tom of Locksley take his turn. He was leaning quite casually on his bow, showing little to no concern as Tom made three respectable shots, each a little nearer the bull's-eye. Elizabeth's admirer, on messy-head's other side, was watching the action intently. He stood quite stiffly and occasionally glanced towards the gallery, his jaw tightening with determination a little more each time he did so.

*Hmmmm.... * Mary reflected. *This is not a good sign about who that kiss is going to be from...Oh well, I'll just kiss her on the cheek. She is like my sister after all....Too bad we cannot choose who we win a kiss from... * She smiled to herself at the entirely foolish thought of kissing messy-head.... * Now that would be worth the price of admission. *

Finally it was Elizabeth's admirer's turn. He stepped forward cautiously. Messy-head nodded encouragingly at him. He spoke briefly to the Sheriff, who then announced, "Maxwell of Huntington." Mary watched Elizabeth in the gallery as Huntington stepped forward and planted his feet. She could see Elizabeth's hands clutching the arms of her chair. Her eyes were wide and Mary doubted that she was breathing.

Maxwell took his first shot, which was quite good, but still slightly wide of the bull's-eye. His second shot was better, but his third missed the target altogether. He stalked back to the group, an expression of annoyance on his face. * I think those will still be good enough to get him into the final five. * Mary thought. * Don't panic yet Maxwell of Huntington. * She abruptly cut off her thoughts. * Stop that! You do not want him to do well! He's your competition! * But Mary could not push away the expressions of longing she had witnessed on both Elizabeth and Maxwell of Huntington's faces.

Messy-head patted his friend on the back and then stepped forward to take his turn. "Michael of Huntington." The Sheriff announced. Before the last syllable had left his mouth, however, Michael of Huntington was done. Three perfect bull's-eyes greeted Mary's amazed eyes. The crowd erupted in cheers. * Show-off! * Thought Mary.

"Well done son." The Sheriff looked astounded and less than pleased. Mary knew he was thinking that there was no way Sir Kyle could beat that. *And there is no way he'll beat me either! * Mary thought confidently. She realized thaat it was her turn. She turned and nodded at her brother to do whatever it was he was planning to do.

Alexander stepped forward. Mary heard him say to the Sheriff, "Your pardon my Lord. My friend Martin of York is mute. I told him I would give you his name." The Sheriff appeared to be still staring at Michael of Huntington's amazing shots. He just nodded and mangaged to announce "Martin of York," although his tone was somewhat strangled.

Mary placed herself in position and lifted her bow, knocking the first arrow. She casually pulled back the string and let loose. The arrow soared through the air and planted itself in the first bull's-eye. Her second arrow landed equally as perfecly in the second target. She carefully focused on her third shot. It landed an inch wide of the bull's-eye, exactly where she wanted it...* A little over-confidence never hurt anyone. * She thought as she returned to her position between Alexander and Michael of Huntington. * Let him think I missed. *

Alexander's shots were perfectly competant and would assure him a place in the final five. Sir Kyle's first arrow hit the target, but his second two were both wide. He was out.

Mary felt a surge of pity for Sir Kyle as he bowed his head and made his way to the side-lines. His father looked disapointed as well and did not appear to know what to say to his son. Sir Kyle went and sat on the far side of the gallery, his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, his forehead on his knees.

Pity won't help him now Mary! * She told herself. * Concentrate - you only have one arrow.*

"Nice shooting." Michael of Huntington muttered to her as they repositioned themselves. His tone was quite arrogant, Mary thought. She smirked to herself under her hood.* We'll see who's arrogant when this is over.*

The five finalists were she, Alexander, Michael and Maxwell of Huntington and Tom of Locksley.

Just as she knew they would, Tom of Locksley's nerves failed him under the pressure and his arrow went wide. Alexander's shot was very near the bull's-eye but not close enough. Mary saw him wink at her as he went past. * He better not have done that shot on purpose! I want to to win on my own merits. *

Needless to say, Michael of Huntington's shot was perfect. Maxwell managed a bull's-eye as well. Mary's shot bull's-eye assured her a spot in the next round.

"Move back the targets ten paces." The Sheriff ordered two men-at-arms. They quickly complied. Mary bit her lip as she eyed the target. It was not the furthest at which she had made a bull's-eye, but it was close.

Michael of Huntington did not even appear to aim. He lifted his bow, loosed his arrow and suddenly it was twanging in the target. Perfect again. Mary sighed. * Darn him! *

Maxwell was much more careful. He carefully aimed and was rewarded with a perfect shot. He looked a little surprised when he returned to stand beside Michael, who was again leaning casually on his bow. Mary watched Maxwell turn to gaze at Elizabeth again. Mary could see that her friend was smiling slightly, hope apparently beginning to dawn in her that Maxwell might win. When Mary turned back, Michael was following Maxwell's gaze, a slight frown on his face.

Mary felt bad that she was going to have to disapoint Elizabeth. * Kisses come and go. * She reflected. * I will never have another chance like this. When the Queen realizes what I have done she is going to lock me away in the Tower for a thousand years. *

Mary did not demonstrate overconfidence like that annoying Michael of Huntington. She matched Maxwell's care and gently aimed her arrow. She breathed a sigh of relief when the judge at the far end yelled "Bull's-eye!" Mary could see Michael of Huntington eyeing her with new respect. Maxwell looked disapointed, but managed to congratulate her. Mary was positive that he was sincere. She was beginning to like Maxwell of Huntington more and more. * It is too bad that Lizzy is betrothed. I could see her very happily married to this man. *

The target was moved back ten more paces. Mary watched it, tension beginning to tighten in her stomach. She had never hit a bull's-eye at such a distance, but she doubted anyone else could either. It was really very far. * Would not today be a wonderful time for a first! * She reflected wryly.

The Sheriff changed the order on this round. She was first. Mary forced herself to take deep breaths. She heard Alexander encouraging her with half an ear, 'You can do it Martin, old chap!" but she ignored him, closing down all senses except sight. She raised her bow, took aim and let loose, closing her eyes...

The crowd told her what she needed to know. She opened her eyes and a perfect bull's-eye greeted her. Mary let out her held breath.

She tensed again when Michael came forward. * I cannot possibly get another bull's-eye. If that target gets moved again, I'll lose. Please, please, please let his shot go wide. * She clenched her teeth together. She was pleased to see that the arrogant archer was actually taking his time for once. * This distance is difficult for him as well. *

Mary's hope was short-lived. Michael performed without flaw. She felt like crying when she saw his arrow in the centre of the target. * We're going to be here until Judgement Day!*

Mary was barely concentrating as Maxwell of Huntington stepped forward to take his shot.

Part 4 | Index | Part 6
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