Epilogue to Lost and Found~A Guy/Allan AU Fan Fic Rated NC/17
Lost & Found
~Epilogue~
Six months had passed since the sheriff and Lady Alona's wedding.
Six months - and she still wasn't tired of her beady-eyed, often drunken and under-endowed troll.
Sex-crazed creature that she was, however, his lady wife had frequently sought comfort in the arms of others. Tall, short, fat, thin, young, old, foul and fair, rich and poor - Lady Alona and her bees-waxed lips, greedy fingers and unquenchable cunny tried it on with all of them.
All except for Sir Guy and Allan, of course. Even she wouldn't dare go against the capricious Prince John, and he'd made it clear no one was to interfere with those two. “More's the pity . . .” she'd sigh as she glimpsed them striding through the castle corridors or overseeing the training of the castle guards.
Or those unguarded moments when Sir Guy would give Allan a quick, sly pat on the arse, or Allan's bright blue eyes would shine with naked adoration for the master at arms.
She'd almost turn green with envy at those times.
However, no one else dare say no to her. Lady Alona would pop out that ubiquitous container of beeswax, her squinty dark eyes sweeping over her latest victim appraisingly, and say, “Of course, we wouldn't want to have to tell our dear Sheriff you made me unhappy, would we?”
She'd give them that toothy grin. “Dear Eggie does love his dungeon and all his little playthings ever so much . . .” And so they fell into her clutches and were thankful they escaped with their lives - and didn't get an eye put out by one of those dreaded nipples.
Guy and Allan did such an excellent job managing Nottingham, Eggie had taken to spending as much time as possible with his precious birds. Eggie and - bizarre as it may sound - Puddems.
Eggie kept her on a leash, of course, one that allowed the cat to almost reach the bird's cages. But not quite. Which caused the sheriff great merriment.
Puddems forgave him for this cruelty, perhaps because she saw in him a sort of kindred spirit. Or perhaps because he allowed her to dine on his feathered friends once he'd loved them to death.
It was a strange relationship, but it worked. After all, they shared a common enemy: She Who Would Suffocate Them with Her Love (and Peculiar Breasts).
It didn't help milord and milady's marital bliss when the sheriff woke up one morning with a terrible, horrible itch. In a terribly private place.
Taking a piss was absolutely agonizing. And so he send for the castle physician. Who after careful examination and a great deal of hemming and hawing, finally told Vasey his diagnosis: “I am terribly afraid to have to tell you, Milord, but you've got the pox.”
Well, of course he did. You mate with a leper, you end up with the pox. At least her little hobby kept her busy spreading it to others.
“The gift that keeps on giving, courtesy of my wife,” Eggie muttered with a death's-head grin.
And so he drank, and scratched, and spent time with his birds, and told his troubles to the cat - who seemed to understand it all so very, very well . . .
Kieran had had the tables turned on him when the giant foreign masseuse had taken a fancy to the weedy youth and claimed him for her own. She would hardly let him out of her sight or her bed.
And every time Sir Guy caught a glimpse of Kieran these days, Kieran could swear the master at arms was laughing at him behind that cool azure gaze . . .
In the castle kitchen, a new cook reigned, Merri having been stolen away by Prince John, who had installed her in lovely digs in London.
He did allow her, however, to whip up some of his favourite dishes now and again, which she also served him - in a very large and comfortable bed, of course, one frequently shared with the visiting Lady Geraldine.
Such encounters were often quite messy - and very, very fun. No one could remember the prince remaining in such a happy mood for more than a few days, let alone all those months.
Helping that was the fact Guy and Allan had continued their successful looting of the rich in neighbouring shires. Thankfully, from their point of view, the prince didn't elect to join them again.
He did delight in hearing the stories of their exploits during his visits to Nottingham.
Sir Jasper enjoyed those visits, too, because he got to see his favourite person in the whole wide world: Minerva. It was very pleasant to have such a charming, funny and warm-hearted friend who could also dance so very well - even if she did have to stop and rest a bit more than she used to.
And there was a new member of the household at Locksley Manor.
Minerva had taken a shine to little Moira. On hearing how Sir Guy had defended her honour at the castle, Minerva decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring in a younger servant to properly train - for the day when she did retire.
And the motherless girl found her own fairy godmother in Minerva, along with a knight, his right-hand man and one very large dog to protect her and love her like a little sister.
The two women had discovered the mutual pleasure of watching the masters of the house in their weapons practice.
Though they were many decades apart in age, the gleam in their eyes was identical. A gleam that said, “Now, that is a proper pair of proper men.”
Miles away, deep in Nottingham Forest, a former outlaw got news of the “special relationship” between Sir Guy and Allan.
“Robin, you won't believe what I've heard! It's Allan - and Sir Guy. They're married!”
Robin, still abed, scratched his belly and yawned. “Who to?”
“That's just it - to each other! Well, not married exactly, but as good as,” Much said, shaking back his mane of blonde hair with a sigh.
“Men can't marry each other, Much . . .”
“But the prince sanctioned it, apparently. They live together and everyone knows they share - everything.”
Robin . . .” Much grabbed Robin's hand. “Why couldn't we do the same thing?”
Robin snorted. “ Go trotting off to Prince John? I think you've eaten too much squirrel stew that's gone off, Much . . .”
Much huffed. “I don't mean go to Prince John . . . I mean, have our own little ceremony here, a commitment ceremony.”
Robin rolled his eyes. “Would that make you happy? And perhaps let me get back to sleep on this cold morning?”
Much grinned. “Just say 'yes,' and I'll help you get warm, Robin . . . starting with a nice, long snog . . .”
Robin gave a grudging nod. “Oh, alright . . .” There was a distinct twinkle in his green eyes in spite of his words.
Much pressed his soft lips to Robin's as he wrapped his arms around him. And even Robin had to admit, he couldn't have found a pretty, wide-eyed blonde more devoted to him than his Much . . .
“Just one thing, Robin.”
“Yeah, Much?”
“I get to be on top sometimes, yeah?”
“Yeah . . . I suppose.”
“Well - alright then!”
And at Locksley Manor, Allan woke, watched his beautiful master at arms sleeping, and counted himself the luckiest fellow in the entire world.
“And to think, Guy, it all started with me bein' thirsty and walkin' into that tavern . . . who'd a thought it, yeah?” he murmured softly, stretching out a hand to gently stroke Guy's tousled mane.
“Hmmmm . . . I guess some things were just meant to be . . .” Guy's voice rumbled as he turned and gave Allan a sleepy, sweet smile.
~Some things are just meant to be~
~Epilogue~
Six months had passed since the sheriff and Lady Alona's wedding.
Six months - and she still wasn't tired of her beady-eyed, often drunken and under-endowed troll.
Sex-crazed creature that she was, however, his lady wife had frequently sought comfort in the arms of others. Tall, short, fat, thin, young, old, foul and fair, rich and poor - Lady Alona and her bees-waxed lips, greedy fingers and unquenchable cunny tried it on with all of them.
All except for Sir Guy and Allan, of course. Even she wouldn't dare go against the capricious Prince John, and he'd made it clear no one was to interfere with those two. “More's the pity . . .” she'd sigh as she glimpsed them striding through the castle corridors or overseeing the training of the castle guards.
Or those unguarded moments when Sir Guy would give Allan a quick, sly pat on the arse, or Allan's bright blue eyes would shine with naked adoration for the master at arms.
She'd almost turn green with envy at those times.
However, no one else dare say no to her. Lady Alona would pop out that ubiquitous container of beeswax, her squinty dark eyes sweeping over her latest victim appraisingly, and say, “Of course, we wouldn't want to have to tell our dear Sheriff you made me unhappy, would we?”
She'd give them that toothy grin. “Dear Eggie does love his dungeon and all his little playthings ever so much . . .” And so they fell into her clutches and were thankful they escaped with their lives - and didn't get an eye put out by one of those dreaded nipples.
Guy and Allan did such an excellent job managing Nottingham, Eggie had taken to spending as much time as possible with his precious birds. Eggie and - bizarre as it may sound - Puddems.
Eggie kept her on a leash, of course, one that allowed the cat to almost reach the bird's cages. But not quite. Which caused the sheriff great merriment.
Puddems forgave him for this cruelty, perhaps because she saw in him a sort of kindred spirit. Or perhaps because he allowed her to dine on his feathered friends once he'd loved them to death.
It was a strange relationship, but it worked. After all, they shared a common enemy: She Who Would Suffocate Them with Her Love (and Peculiar Breasts).
It didn't help milord and milady's marital bliss when the sheriff woke up one morning with a terrible, horrible itch. In a terribly private place.
Taking a piss was absolutely agonizing. And so he send for the castle physician. Who after careful examination and a great deal of hemming and hawing, finally told Vasey his diagnosis: “I am terribly afraid to have to tell you, Milord, but you've got the pox.”
Well, of course he did. You mate with a leper, you end up with the pox. At least her little hobby kept her busy spreading it to others.
“The gift that keeps on giving, courtesy of my wife,” Eggie muttered with a death's-head grin.
And so he drank, and scratched, and spent time with his birds, and told his troubles to the cat - who seemed to understand it all so very, very well . . .
Kieran had had the tables turned on him when the giant foreign masseuse had taken a fancy to the weedy youth and claimed him for her own. She would hardly let him out of her sight or her bed.
And every time Sir Guy caught a glimpse of Kieran these days, Kieran could swear the master at arms was laughing at him behind that cool azure gaze . . .
In the castle kitchen, a new cook reigned, Merri having been stolen away by Prince John, who had installed her in lovely digs in London.
He did allow her, however, to whip up some of his favourite dishes now and again, which she also served him - in a very large and comfortable bed, of course, one frequently shared with the visiting Lady Geraldine.
Such encounters were often quite messy - and very, very fun. No one could remember the prince remaining in such a happy mood for more than a few days, let alone all those months.
Helping that was the fact Guy and Allan had continued their successful looting of the rich in neighbouring shires. Thankfully, from their point of view, the prince didn't elect to join them again.
He did delight in hearing the stories of their exploits during his visits to Nottingham.
Sir Jasper enjoyed those visits, too, because he got to see his favourite person in the whole wide world: Minerva. It was very pleasant to have such a charming, funny and warm-hearted friend who could also dance so very well - even if she did have to stop and rest a bit more than she used to.
And there was a new member of the household at Locksley Manor.
Minerva had taken a shine to little Moira. On hearing how Sir Guy had defended her honour at the castle, Minerva decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring in a younger servant to properly train - for the day when she did retire.
And the motherless girl found her own fairy godmother in Minerva, along with a knight, his right-hand man and one very large dog to protect her and love her like a little sister.
The two women had discovered the mutual pleasure of watching the masters of the house in their weapons practice.
Though they were many decades apart in age, the gleam in their eyes was identical. A gleam that said, “Now, that is a proper pair of proper men.”
Miles away, deep in Nottingham Forest, a former outlaw got news of the “special relationship” between Sir Guy and Allan.
“Robin, you won't believe what I've heard! It's Allan - and Sir Guy. They're married!”
Robin, still abed, scratched his belly and yawned. “Who to?”
“That's just it - to each other! Well, not married exactly, but as good as,” Much said, shaking back his mane of blonde hair with a sigh.
“Men can't marry each other, Much . . .”
“But the prince sanctioned it, apparently. They live together and everyone knows they share - everything.”
Robin . . .” Much grabbed Robin's hand. “Why couldn't we do the same thing?”
Robin snorted. “ Go trotting off to Prince John? I think you've eaten too much squirrel stew that's gone off, Much . . .”
Much huffed. “I don't mean go to Prince John . . . I mean, have our own little ceremony here, a commitment ceremony.”
Robin rolled his eyes. “Would that make you happy? And perhaps let me get back to sleep on this cold morning?”
Much grinned. “Just say 'yes,' and I'll help you get warm, Robin . . . starting with a nice, long snog . . .”
Robin gave a grudging nod. “Oh, alright . . .” There was a distinct twinkle in his green eyes in spite of his words.
Much pressed his soft lips to Robin's as he wrapped his arms around him. And even Robin had to admit, he couldn't have found a pretty, wide-eyed blonde more devoted to him than his Much . . .
“Just one thing, Robin.”
“Yeah, Much?”
“I get to be on top sometimes, yeah?”
“Yeah . . . I suppose.”
“Well - alright then!”
And at Locksley Manor, Allan woke, watched his beautiful master at arms sleeping, and counted himself the luckiest fellow in the entire world.
“And to think, Guy, it all started with me bein' thirsty and walkin' into that tavern . . . who'd a thought it, yeah?” he murmured softly, stretching out a hand to gently stroke Guy's tousled mane.
“Hmmmm . . . I guess some things were just meant to be . . .” Guy's voice rumbled as he turned and gave Allan a sleepy, sweet smile.
~Some things are just meant to be~