Black, or Nothing
Title: Black, or Nothing
Author: Rochvelleth
Rating: PG
Summary: On Allan and Guy’s costumes...
Notes: Part 1 is set during the action of 2x06 (‘For England...!’), while Part 2 is set somewhere between 3x11 (‘The Enemy of My Enemy’) and 3x12 (‘Something Worth Fighting For - Part 1’). For a justification of dates used, see this timeline. Spoilers for season 3.
Disclaimer: Ownership is complicated. You see, Guy starts off owning Allan, and then he doesn’t, and apparently there’s no point at which I own them at all :(
Black, or Nothing
Part 1 - Allan; September 1193
“He said to help myself to anything I need,” Allan insisted to a frowning Thornton, who had found him rummaging through clothes in Guy’s bedroom. “Get cleaned up and stuff, that’s what he said!”
“Really,” Thornton said, still frowning. “And I thought you were in Master Robin’s gang...”
Allan turned away and started rummaging again, so that the servant would not see how much those words had stung him. “Yeah, well I have to look out for myself,” he said half-heartedly. There simply was no excuse for what he had done and was doing now. He was usually so good with words, a cheeky explanation to get himself out of trouble, but he just couldn’t find any that seemed to excuse his actions this time.
“I should check with Sir Guy,” Thornton said, turning to leave the room.
“Hang on!” Allan perked up a bit. “I’m not being funny, but you don’t know if he’s got anything in green do you? I’m not sure black’s my colour.”
“It’s black or nothing,” Thornton said curtly, and then he left.
But when Allan had a chance to try on some outfits, he decided he quite liked his new look. Very mean. Perhaps his new career as a henchman wouldn’t be so bad after all.
---
Part 2 - Guy; August 1195
Allan stirred from sleep, as he often did in the darkest hours of the night. Sometimes it was the nightmares: the visions of his brother, and the dreadful moments when his old betrayal continued to run through his dreams. He rubbed his eyes, and slipped silently out of his bunk, then padded towards the table to see if there were any scraps of food left. There never were.
Just then, he thought he saw a movement in the shadows, near the camp entrance. He crept forwards, fearing intruders, and then clearly saw the tall, thin, silhouette. “Oh, it’s you!”
Guy turned, but said nothing. In the low lighting, the lines in his face were emphasised and he looked almost sad.
“It’s weird thinking you belong here,” Allan said softly, leaning against the sturdy timber framework of the doorway.
“So you always did know the location of a permanent camp,” Guy whispered, his tone less accusing than his words were.
“Well, we didn’t have this then-“ Allan began, but Guy put up a hand to stop him. Perhaps he didn’t want to hear the lies. Perhaps he didn’t care. The past was gone now, like Marian. But if Marian were alive, and she knew that he had joined Robin’s gang, perhaps she would have been proud of him, in some small way.
“I’m not being funny,” Allan said, turning towards Guy and pointedly changing the subject - that was something he always used to do when Guy was in a sullen mood, back when he was his henchman. “But we don’t really wear black leather here. You need a new outfit!”
“I like black,” Guy growled, pushing past Allan and heading for the heap of rags on the floor that the outlaws had given him for a bed.
Author: Rochvelleth
Rating: PG
Summary: On Allan and Guy’s costumes...
Notes: Part 1 is set during the action of 2x06 (‘For England...!’), while Part 2 is set somewhere between 3x11 (‘The Enemy of My Enemy’) and 3x12 (‘Something Worth Fighting For - Part 1’). For a justification of dates used, see this timeline. Spoilers for season 3.
Disclaimer: Ownership is complicated. You see, Guy starts off owning Allan, and then he doesn’t, and apparently there’s no point at which I own them at all :(
Black, or Nothing
Part 1 - Allan; September 1193
“He said to help myself to anything I need,” Allan insisted to a frowning Thornton, who had found him rummaging through clothes in Guy’s bedroom. “Get cleaned up and stuff, that’s what he said!”
“Really,” Thornton said, still frowning. “And I thought you were in Master Robin’s gang...”
Allan turned away and started rummaging again, so that the servant would not see how much those words had stung him. “Yeah, well I have to look out for myself,” he said half-heartedly. There simply was no excuse for what he had done and was doing now. He was usually so good with words, a cheeky explanation to get himself out of trouble, but he just couldn’t find any that seemed to excuse his actions this time.
“I should check with Sir Guy,” Thornton said, turning to leave the room.
“Hang on!” Allan perked up a bit. “I’m not being funny, but you don’t know if he’s got anything in green do you? I’m not sure black’s my colour.”
“It’s black or nothing,” Thornton said curtly, and then he left.
But when Allan had a chance to try on some outfits, he decided he quite liked his new look. Very mean. Perhaps his new career as a henchman wouldn’t be so bad after all.
---
Part 2 - Guy; August 1195
Allan stirred from sleep, as he often did in the darkest hours of the night. Sometimes it was the nightmares: the visions of his brother, and the dreadful moments when his old betrayal continued to run through his dreams. He rubbed his eyes, and slipped silently out of his bunk, then padded towards the table to see if there were any scraps of food left. There never were.
Just then, he thought he saw a movement in the shadows, near the camp entrance. He crept forwards, fearing intruders, and then clearly saw the tall, thin, silhouette. “Oh, it’s you!”
Guy turned, but said nothing. In the low lighting, the lines in his face were emphasised and he looked almost sad.
“It’s weird thinking you belong here,” Allan said softly, leaning against the sturdy timber framework of the doorway.
“So you always did know the location of a permanent camp,” Guy whispered, his tone less accusing than his words were.
“Well, we didn’t have this then-“ Allan began, but Guy put up a hand to stop him. Perhaps he didn’t want to hear the lies. Perhaps he didn’t care. The past was gone now, like Marian. But if Marian were alive, and she knew that he had joined Robin’s gang, perhaps she would have been proud of him, in some small way.
“I’m not being funny,” Allan said, turning towards Guy and pointedly changing the subject - that was something he always used to do when Guy was in a sullen mood, back when he was his henchman. “But we don’t really wear black leather here. You need a new outfit!”
“I like black,” Guy growled, pushing past Allan and heading for the heap of rags on the floor that the outlaws had given him for a bed.