Denial II, Chapter 28 - Clothes Make the Man
Title: Denial II, chapter 28 - Clothes Make the Man
Author: darkentwisted, perteltote
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Vaizey, Prince John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Words: 2,284
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by Team Lavender Takes place after AU 2x13 but prior to 3x01
Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: The world weighs heavy on a man condemned by his own guilt.
>>>-------------------->>
Clothes Make the Man
by darkentwisted with perteltote
Guy heard fingers snap behind him in the dimly lit pub. He lifted his head, slowly focusing on his surroundings and the cacophony of foreign tongues all around him. He finally remembered they'd turned east the day before rather than head directly to Calais. A side trip, Vaizey had said.
The fingers snapped again.
"Gisborne, what's become of all your black?" Vaizey asked. Without waiting for an answer he continued, "No matter, I would have had to do this in any case. You will come with me, now."
Guy scowled -- he had thrown his leather overboard weeks ago -- the bloodstains had been like brands burning him. He had thought they would have eaten through his skin, like the Saracen magic Vaizey had poured over his arm, but his skin had been pale and smooth as ever underneath.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Vaizey.
"Come along Gisborne -- one, two, up, UP!"
He found himself trailing after Vaizey before his brain had even considered the options. Vaizey's tone had been kind, as if he had been cajoling a reluctant hound, and habit and duty pulled tighter around his neck than any harness.
Guy regretted his acquiescence then, but he regretted it even more later, as Vaizey stood behind him in the mirror and ran a heavy hand down his back. It made him feel naked, and alone, and young all over again; young as the boy he had been when he first met Vaizey. The sheriff smiled into the mirror, but not at Guy, and he felt a sudden sinking feeling as the tailor approached.
"Yes...mmm, this is nice. Very nice, but perhaps you can take this in a bit? We want him looking his best for our meeting with Prince John."
Vaizey smiled again, and when he found his eyes in the mirror, Guy wondered if he was being dressed for the slaughter.
>>>-------------------->
"Ah Gisborne, I see you have received your new wardrobe."
"More like armor." Guy spat at his reflection, "It makes me look like a hun warlord."
Hands sought out Guy's shoulders and lingered uncomfortably too long, making him shudder involuntarily.
"That's exactly what I want our Prince to see. A warlord. A man capable of defeating our eunich of a king and handing the rightful heir of England his throne. For once I need you to become the man I made you and not some sniveling little goth scowling about in his dark little rags. No. I need you to be just what I want you to be." Vaizey ran his fingers down the bronze sinews. "No Gizzy, you're not allowed to dye the brown parts black." He pulled his foul-breathed menace away to inspect his handiwork and cunningly walked around the knight, running his hands over the lacing of his jerkin. "Well then, it must be true -- the clothes do make the man."
"What kind of monster have you made me into?" Gisborne hissed as he caught his gaunt face under waves of black hair in the reflection. He had barely cared to shave, much less tame the wild, ebony mane his hair had become. He caught the mockishly bemused reflection of his tormentor behind him.
"Why the kind that kills his little pet, the one woman who loved him and almost killed the king of England," the sheriff grinned coldly. "You are a monster of my own making and don't you ever forget it!" He closed in again, his fetid countenance almost making the man in front of him visibly gag. "And Gisborne...don't cut your hair. I like it better this way...long...soft...like a woman's. I'm sure your prince will like it too."
Mercifully the stench of the sheriff's breath left him as the ugly small man pulled away and returned to his plotting. Guy waited till Vaizey's footsteps fell away and retched into the basin. He examined his reflection again. The man in the mirror was barely recognisable but the two people standing behind him weren't. Allan and Marian haunted him daily now and their faces condemned him every time he dared look at himself. He nervously grabbed a flacon of mead and drank heavily, trying to wash away one set of spirits with another. He put down the flask and carefully kohled his eyes. He was a monster and as Vaizey said, it was time to look the part.
>>>------------------------->
The room was too opulent, too dark. Rich tapestries lined the walls and the floors but they did little to brighten the gloom of the dim hall. The center of the room was adorned with a small dining table, a perfect octagon, on top of which a draped entree was placed. Guy cautiously pushed apart the double doors and glowered at his hosts who had started dining without him. He immediately kneeled in front of the younger of the two and kissed his ring. "My Lord."
"Sir Guy of Gisborne," the prince mused. "The only lord without a manor."
Guy blushed angrily at the slight but brushed it off. "Hopefully soon, my liege, that will no longer be an issue."
The prince bade silently for the knight to get up and take a seat. He poured a chalice for the knight. "I would have hoped you would have resolved my little...issue and things would have been different by now." His brow furrowed as he pulled a plug of bread and chewed thoughtfully. "You would be amazed at what being this country's monarch would do for one's... generosity." It was obvious the regent had inherited his mothers slicing wit, if not the pale beauty his sibling had. Dark eyes glowered over the silver chalice at his bearded lips, sending jagged shards of intent at the dark knight. "As it is, the generosity I have is wearing thin."
Gisborned stiffened at the menacing tone. "Your Majesty..."
"You failed to help me with my situation, Lord Gisborne. My sheriff assured me you were the man for the job but I simply fail to see it. I must now rely on... other measures to achieve my ends. I'm not much enamoured of the French king you realize, and have a distaste for cavorting with him for men...and boats...as I was telling my sheriff," he said, nodding toward Vaizey. "I don't like having to come up with alternate plans because of the ineptitude of others, ineptitude that may cost more than just silver and gold."
Vaizey remained strangely silent during the sortee, calmly dipping bread in the broth in front of him and savouring the humiliation of his dogsbody.
Gisborne's eyes nervously darted between the Prince of England and the Sheriff of Nottingham. "Your Majesty....My Lord."
"Easy, Gizzy. Don't soil that pretty new outfit of yours," Vaizey finally said. "If I may, Your Highness." He continued on the other man's nod. "Our host was just driving home the importance of second chances my dear boy - and the importance of the consequences when we fail at His Grace's most generous and benevolent opportunity to fix our mistakes."
It took a minute for the words to sink in and the double entendres of both men's statements to hit home. There was no room for error in treason and he was to be made the scapegoat if more plans went for naught. He settled into his doomed path and sighed. "I understand, my lords."
For the first time since Guy walked into the room the prince smiled with his eyes as well as his mouth. "That is the Lord Gisborne I know and love. My most loyal subject, I am sure." He swiped at the table with his hands and servants appeared out of the dark to gather the dishes of the main course from the table, leaving the covered center dish. "Ahh, Sheriff Vaizey, you are correct. He is as smart as he is beautiful. You chose your servant well." He snapped at one of the servants again. "A special treat." He indicated the center of the table. "I remembered how much you enjoyed it last time. The perfect end to a very productive meal."
"A delicacy, I'm sure." Vaizey's eyes widened in anticipation.
The servant stepped forward and removed the drape making Gisborne gasp in unrestrained horror. He had heard rumors of His Majesty's bizarre practices but to realize he was about to witness one of them made him shudder uncontrollably. A square vice-like contraption collared a small monkey, its eyes sleepily blinking and staring blankly at the diners. The most disturbing feature of the animal was that the skin just above its eyebrows had been neatly parted and cauterized. And to Guy's further disgust, the servant neatly lifted the top off the monkey's head and revealed the 'delicacy'.
The pink tissue pulsed gently as the cranium was laid aside. Guy turned sideways and gagged as Vaizey frowned.
"Where are your manners, Gisborne!"
"Really, the peasantry you keep, Vaizey," Prince John tsked, taking the first spoonful as weak, muffled sounds of restrained struggle stirred from under the table. The tortured animal cried out silently through severed vocal cords as both men descended upon its cranium with their spoons.
"You do know how to treat your subjects, Your Highness," Vaizey mewled between spoonfuls.
"I had my chef feed my dear little Leonore a diet of spiced figs and honey so its brains would be extra sweet. He supped her on wine right before tonight's dinner."
"It is delicious." Vaizey half-moaned. He caught the look of horror and loathing on his right-hand man's face. "Really Gizzy, you must try some before you condemn it."
The prince sighed as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth. "It's no use My Lord Sheriff, taste simply cannot be taught. My own mother declared eating monkey brains as barbaric without so much as a spoonful. Really, her views of fine dining and her taste in men does sometimes border on the neanderthal." He sniffled and again caught the dark knight in his piercing gaze. "If you cannot teach the queen mother of England the pleasantries of fine dining, how do you expect a lord without a manor to appreciate it." He emphasized his words with a flourish and he tossed the drape back over the empty cranium of the now lifeless gibbon.
It took every ounce of Guy's strength not to launch himself at the monarch. They were mocking him and he was enraged. He dabbed at his mouth and calmly finished his wine. "I am weary, My Lord. May I return to my bedchambre?"
"And leave such stimulating company? Do I bore you, Lord Gisborne?" The prince seemed genuinely hurt that his charge wanted to leave before he finished expressing the earnestness of his slight displeasure at failure.
Guy managed a weak smile he far from felt. "I am just feeling the effects of your renewed grace, My Lord. I have not slept well at the thought of failing you. Your forgiveness has lifted a weight off my soul."
"Forgiveness?" Prince John looked genuinely surprised. "You have read too much into this evening, Lord Gisborne. I do not forgive. I do not forget. But I do give second chances." He focused intently on the dark man and for the first time, showed real emotion. "Do you love me, Sir Guy?"
Gisborne was thrown completely off guard at his regent's question. "Your Majesty?"
"I asked if you loved me, Sir Guy?"
Gisborne blinked and swallowed sharply before answering. "You have my eternal allegiance, Your Majesty."
Prince John smiled warmly with both his eyes and his mouth. "Good. Then I trust you shall never disappoint me again...when I call upon you." He waved the knight away with his hand. "Go...rest well, Lord Gisborne."
Guy briefly genuflected at both his betters. He staggered out the door on wobbly legs. Behind him he heard the clanking of goblets as Prince John toasted Vaizey.
"To the benevolence of second chances. This time, may we both get what we want."
Vaizey picked a morsel out from between his false tooth and his real one and declared, "Oh yes! I'll drink to that!"
>>>---------------------------------------->
Guy barely made it to his room before disgust and self-loathing caused what little he did eat to be lost again. He filled the sick void in his stomach with more wine and hugged his knees on the end of his bunk with his back to the door, trying to forget the ugliness of the evening.
Untold hours later he shuddered from the uneasy slumber he fell into as dim light from the opened door flashed on him. He tensed when soft footsteps sounded behind him. Dread twisted his stomach as a hand caressed his shoulder. His mouth went dry. He tried to croak out his protest against the unseen person behind him. He prepared for the familiar, but repugnant, stench of unbrushed teeth and unwashed flesh but it never came. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. And instead, a whispered voice sounded in his ear . "You never really answered my question, Sir Guy, I asked if you loved me?"
Gisborne coudn't speak as new dread filled his soul and his eyes started to tear up. The nod was all his unwelcomed paramour needed.
"Good. If you truly love me with all of your heart, then you should have no problem showing me."
Author: darkentwisted, perteltote
Characters/Pairings: Guy, Vaizey, Prince John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Words: 2,284
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by Team Lavender Takes place after AU 2x13 but prior to 3x01
Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: The world weighs heavy on a man condemned by his own guilt.
>>>-------------------->>
Clothes Make the Man
by darkentwisted with perteltote
Guy heard fingers snap behind him in the dimly lit pub. He lifted his head, slowly focusing on his surroundings and the cacophony of foreign tongues all around him. He finally remembered they'd turned east the day before rather than head directly to Calais. A side trip, Vaizey had said.
The fingers snapped again.
"Gisborne, what's become of all your black?" Vaizey asked. Without waiting for an answer he continued, "No matter, I would have had to do this in any case. You will come with me, now."
Guy scowled -- he had thrown his leather overboard weeks ago -- the bloodstains had been like brands burning him. He had thought they would have eaten through his skin, like the Saracen magic Vaizey had poured over his arm, but his skin had been pale and smooth as ever underneath.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Vaizey.
"Come along Gisborne -- one, two, up, UP!"
He found himself trailing after Vaizey before his brain had even considered the options. Vaizey's tone had been kind, as if he had been cajoling a reluctant hound, and habit and duty pulled tighter around his neck than any harness.
Guy regretted his acquiescence then, but he regretted it even more later, as Vaizey stood behind him in the mirror and ran a heavy hand down his back. It made him feel naked, and alone, and young all over again; young as the boy he had been when he first met Vaizey. The sheriff smiled into the mirror, but not at Guy, and he felt a sudden sinking feeling as the tailor approached.
"Yes...mmm, this is nice. Very nice, but perhaps you can take this in a bit? We want him looking his best for our meeting with Prince John."
Vaizey smiled again, and when he found his eyes in the mirror, Guy wondered if he was being dressed for the slaughter.
>>>-------------------->
"Ah Gisborne, I see you have received your new wardrobe."
"More like armor." Guy spat at his reflection, "It makes me look like a hun warlord."
Hands sought out Guy's shoulders and lingered uncomfortably too long, making him shudder involuntarily.
"That's exactly what I want our Prince to see. A warlord. A man capable of defeating our eunich of a king and handing the rightful heir of England his throne. For once I need you to become the man I made you and not some sniveling little goth scowling about in his dark little rags. No. I need you to be just what I want you to be." Vaizey ran his fingers down the bronze sinews. "No Gizzy, you're not allowed to dye the brown parts black." He pulled his foul-breathed menace away to inspect his handiwork and cunningly walked around the knight, running his hands over the lacing of his jerkin. "Well then, it must be true -- the clothes do make the man."
"What kind of monster have you made me into?" Gisborne hissed as he caught his gaunt face under waves of black hair in the reflection. He had barely cared to shave, much less tame the wild, ebony mane his hair had become. He caught the mockishly bemused reflection of his tormentor behind him.
"Why the kind that kills his little pet, the one woman who loved him and almost killed the king of England," the sheriff grinned coldly. "You are a monster of my own making and don't you ever forget it!" He closed in again, his fetid countenance almost making the man in front of him visibly gag. "And Gisborne...don't cut your hair. I like it better this way...long...soft...like a woman's. I'm sure your prince will like it too."
Mercifully the stench of the sheriff's breath left him as the ugly small man pulled away and returned to his plotting. Guy waited till Vaizey's footsteps fell away and retched into the basin. He examined his reflection again. The man in the mirror was barely recognisable but the two people standing behind him weren't. Allan and Marian haunted him daily now and their faces condemned him every time he dared look at himself. He nervously grabbed a flacon of mead and drank heavily, trying to wash away one set of spirits with another. He put down the flask and carefully kohled his eyes. He was a monster and as Vaizey said, it was time to look the part.
>>>------------------------->
The room was too opulent, too dark. Rich tapestries lined the walls and the floors but they did little to brighten the gloom of the dim hall. The center of the room was adorned with a small dining table, a perfect octagon, on top of which a draped entree was placed. Guy cautiously pushed apart the double doors and glowered at his hosts who had started dining without him. He immediately kneeled in front of the younger of the two and kissed his ring. "My Lord."
"Sir Guy of Gisborne," the prince mused. "The only lord without a manor."
Guy blushed angrily at the slight but brushed it off. "Hopefully soon, my liege, that will no longer be an issue."
The prince bade silently for the knight to get up and take a seat. He poured a chalice for the knight. "I would have hoped you would have resolved my little...issue and things would have been different by now." His brow furrowed as he pulled a plug of bread and chewed thoughtfully. "You would be amazed at what being this country's monarch would do for one's... generosity." It was obvious the regent had inherited his mothers slicing wit, if not the pale beauty his sibling had. Dark eyes glowered over the silver chalice at his bearded lips, sending jagged shards of intent at the dark knight. "As it is, the generosity I have is wearing thin."
Gisborned stiffened at the menacing tone. "Your Majesty..."
"You failed to help me with my situation, Lord Gisborne. My sheriff assured me you were the man for the job but I simply fail to see it. I must now rely on... other measures to achieve my ends. I'm not much enamoured of the French king you realize, and have a distaste for cavorting with him for men...and boats...as I was telling my sheriff," he said, nodding toward Vaizey. "I don't like having to come up with alternate plans because of the ineptitude of others, ineptitude that may cost more than just silver and gold."
Vaizey remained strangely silent during the sortee, calmly dipping bread in the broth in front of him and savouring the humiliation of his dogsbody.
Gisborne's eyes nervously darted between the Prince of England and the Sheriff of Nottingham. "Your Majesty....My Lord."
"Easy, Gizzy. Don't soil that pretty new outfit of yours," Vaizey finally said. "If I may, Your Highness." He continued on the other man's nod. "Our host was just driving home the importance of second chances my dear boy - and the importance of the consequences when we fail at His Grace's most generous and benevolent opportunity to fix our mistakes."
It took a minute for the words to sink in and the double entendres of both men's statements to hit home. There was no room for error in treason and he was to be made the scapegoat if more plans went for naught. He settled into his doomed path and sighed. "I understand, my lords."
For the first time since Guy walked into the room the prince smiled with his eyes as well as his mouth. "That is the Lord Gisborne I know and love. My most loyal subject, I am sure." He swiped at the table with his hands and servants appeared out of the dark to gather the dishes of the main course from the table, leaving the covered center dish. "Ahh, Sheriff Vaizey, you are correct. He is as smart as he is beautiful. You chose your servant well." He snapped at one of the servants again. "A special treat." He indicated the center of the table. "I remembered how much you enjoyed it last time. The perfect end to a very productive meal."
"A delicacy, I'm sure." Vaizey's eyes widened in anticipation.
The servant stepped forward and removed the drape making Gisborne gasp in unrestrained horror. He had heard rumors of His Majesty's bizarre practices but to realize he was about to witness one of them made him shudder uncontrollably. A square vice-like contraption collared a small monkey, its eyes sleepily blinking and staring blankly at the diners. The most disturbing feature of the animal was that the skin just above its eyebrows had been neatly parted and cauterized. And to Guy's further disgust, the servant neatly lifted the top off the monkey's head and revealed the 'delicacy'.
The pink tissue pulsed gently as the cranium was laid aside. Guy turned sideways and gagged as Vaizey frowned.
"Where are your manners, Gisborne!"
"Really, the peasantry you keep, Vaizey," Prince John tsked, taking the first spoonful as weak, muffled sounds of restrained struggle stirred from under the table. The tortured animal cried out silently through severed vocal cords as both men descended upon its cranium with their spoons.
"You do know how to treat your subjects, Your Highness," Vaizey mewled between spoonfuls.
"I had my chef feed my dear little Leonore a diet of spiced figs and honey so its brains would be extra sweet. He supped her on wine right before tonight's dinner."
"It is delicious." Vaizey half-moaned. He caught the look of horror and loathing on his right-hand man's face. "Really Gizzy, you must try some before you condemn it."
The prince sighed as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth. "It's no use My Lord Sheriff, taste simply cannot be taught. My own mother declared eating monkey brains as barbaric without so much as a spoonful. Really, her views of fine dining and her taste in men does sometimes border on the neanderthal." He sniffled and again caught the dark knight in his piercing gaze. "If you cannot teach the queen mother of England the pleasantries of fine dining, how do you expect a lord without a manor to appreciate it." He emphasized his words with a flourish and he tossed the drape back over the empty cranium of the now lifeless gibbon.
It took every ounce of Guy's strength not to launch himself at the monarch. They were mocking him and he was enraged. He dabbed at his mouth and calmly finished his wine. "I am weary, My Lord. May I return to my bedchambre?"
"And leave such stimulating company? Do I bore you, Lord Gisborne?" The prince seemed genuinely hurt that his charge wanted to leave before he finished expressing the earnestness of his slight displeasure at failure.
Guy managed a weak smile he far from felt. "I am just feeling the effects of your renewed grace, My Lord. I have not slept well at the thought of failing you. Your forgiveness has lifted a weight off my soul."
"Forgiveness?" Prince John looked genuinely surprised. "You have read too much into this evening, Lord Gisborne. I do not forgive. I do not forget. But I do give second chances." He focused intently on the dark man and for the first time, showed real emotion. "Do you love me, Sir Guy?"
Gisborne was thrown completely off guard at his regent's question. "Your Majesty?"
"I asked if you loved me, Sir Guy?"
Gisborne blinked and swallowed sharply before answering. "You have my eternal allegiance, Your Majesty."
Prince John smiled warmly with both his eyes and his mouth. "Good. Then I trust you shall never disappoint me again...when I call upon you." He waved the knight away with his hand. "Go...rest well, Lord Gisborne."
Guy briefly genuflected at both his betters. He staggered out the door on wobbly legs. Behind him he heard the clanking of goblets as Prince John toasted Vaizey.
"To the benevolence of second chances. This time, may we both get what we want."
Vaizey picked a morsel out from between his false tooth and his real one and declared, "Oh yes! I'll drink to that!"
>>>---------------------------------------->
Guy barely made it to his room before disgust and self-loathing caused what little he did eat to be lost again. He filled the sick void in his stomach with more wine and hugged his knees on the end of his bunk with his back to the door, trying to forget the ugliness of the evening.
Untold hours later he shuddered from the uneasy slumber he fell into as dim light from the opened door flashed on him. He tensed when soft footsteps sounded behind him. Dread twisted his stomach as a hand caressed his shoulder. His mouth went dry. He tried to croak out his protest against the unseen person behind him. He prepared for the familiar, but repugnant, stench of unbrushed teeth and unwashed flesh but it never came. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. And instead, a whispered voice sounded in his ear . "You never really answered my question, Sir Guy, I asked if you loved me?"
Gisborne coudn't speak as new dread filled his soul and his eyes started to tear up. The nod was all his unwelcomed paramour needed.
"Good. If you truly love me with all of your heart, then you should have no problem showing me."