Fic: Robin of Sherwood, "Sanctuary"

[severa]

Title: Sanctuary
Fandom: Robin of Sherwood
Pairing: Guy of Gisburne/Philip Mark; Gisburne/Robert de Rainault (implied)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8574
Summary: An AU based around "The Sheriff of Nottingham" and "The Time of the Wolf." Fleeing from de Rainault's false accusations, instead of heading for Grimstone Abbey, Gisburne goes to Lincolnshire and hopes Philip Mark will protect him.
A/N: A special thanks to cruelest_month who, when I agonized over the anachronism of the word "harlot" reminded me, "ummm lol they talk to Herne in ROS; are you really worried about appropriate words?" And of course for betaing. Am terribly embarrassed and nervous about having written my first NC-17 fic. meep.

Right then. Here goes.


Guy of Gisburne rode hard, not looking back, barely looking forward. The only direction in his mind was "away." Away from Nottingham, away from Robert de Rainault. He had run away before, but this time was different, this time it was for good. The betrayal was too much this time, to outright accuse him falsely in order to mask his own incompetence.

Cresting a tall hill, he finally gave himself and his horse a moments rest. He turned then and squinted in the midday sun. A small cluster of moving dots, at least six guards sent immediately after him, but he was a better rider than anyone else in the sheriff's employ. He had his head-start, but he couldn't run forever. He needed some plan, some direction and destination. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to clear his thoughts.

He had no family, at least none that he could trust to keep him safe. Friends? The Duke of Gloucester, his former master, had he not been arrested and summarily executed, Gisburne might have gone to him for aid.

Then his mind conjured blue eyes, silvering hair, and strong hands. Gisburne opened his eyes and with one more look back towards Nottingham, he road North, towards Lincoln.

The ride was hard as he avoided the main roads, but Gisburne only dared to stop once and rest long enough so that neither he nor Fury would keel over from exhaustion. He pushed both their limits. His head start would only last him so long, and sooner than later de Rainault would join the hunt himself, making sanctuary all the more essential.

Disheveled, dirty, and exhausted, Gisburne finally made it to Philip Mark's manor in Lincolnshire. He had barely been announced as he stumbled into the hall, and fell to his knees, fearful and breathless. "My lord, I throw myself upon your mercy." he gulped and kept his head down in respectful humility.

The hall was shocked into silence at the intrusion. Gisburne could only hear his own heavy breathing, then sound of boots on stone. The black boots stopped in front of him. "Gisburne?"

A hand touched his face and gently lifted his head up. Philip Mark frowned down at him in puzzlement, concern creasing his brow. "What are you doing here?"

"He'll kill me."

"Who?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his world darkened.

When he woke he felt the full strain he had placed on his body from the ride and his own distress. His arms and legs were sore, and feeling heavy. While unconscious he had been washed, given a clean set of clothes, and put to bed. The sun had gone down, it was well into the evening. The fireplace had been lit and by it he made out the silhouette of woman in a chair. "Hello?" He said, trying to sit up.

The woman started. "Bless me! You're awake." She stood and came to the bedside. She was an older woman, probably closing in on fifty years of age. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine." Gisburne was too stubborn to show weakness to this servant woman. He didn't care much for her patronizing, mothering manner. He sat up quickly to prove his improved health, and she moved to assist, but he pushed her away. "I said I'm fine!" He put his hands to his head though, staving off dizziness and struggling to collect himself. "I need to speak to Philip Mark."

The woman had stepped back several paces, wary of her charge. "I'm suppose to offer you something to drink or eat, then my lord wishes to see you."

"I desire nothing. Just take me to him." Gisburne stood, pleased to find that he was in fact quite steady on his feet.

The woman bowed and led him out of the room, through the halls, and to a closed door. She knocked. "Come in," Mark's voice called from the other side. The woman gestured to Gisburne. He breathed out and went in.

Philip Mark's office was well organized and spacious with a large desk dominating its center. Whereas de Rainault's always seemed cluttered and confused, Mark's papers and affairs were stacked tidily. Shelves lined one wall with scrolls neatly stacked and seemed to even be categorised.

"Ah, Guy." Mark stood and came around the desk. He patted the seat of a cushioned chair in invitation for Gisburne to sit. "You look quite recovered, that is well."

"Yes, thank you." Gisburne took his seat, and Mark perched on the desk's edge.

"Now, tell me what it is that has brought you here."

Gisburne took a deep breath and let his story out. "The sheriff, de Rainault, has betrayed me."

"Can't say I'm surprised."

Gisburne ignored this interjection and continued, "He has erred far too often for the king's liking. He seeks to pin his latest blunder on me, to see me punished...more than likely executed. But I have done nothing wrong! I even suggested the alternate plan that would have made sure that stupid grain was better protected, where that Wolfshead couldn't have gotten to it!" His anger had inflamed again, recalling de Rainault's treachery and his blatant lying. Where he gripped the chair's wooden arms, they creaked under the pressure.

"And you thought to come here."

His fingers relaxed as Mark brought him out of hateful reverie. Gisburne looked up at him, Mark's pale blue eyes seemed to show only the patience and affection that Gisburne recalled so well. "I hoped that my service to you in Nottingham would be remembered and therefore you would treat me with compassion and... Protect me."

One of Mark's eyebrows rose. "Protect you? What I recollect, Gisburne, is that upon my departure from Nottingham, I had offered for you to come with me in order to reward your service. You spurned my invitation, I believe, due to some sort of misguided sentimentality." He slid off the desk and turned his back to Gisburne as he poured himself a drink. "Ironic to think that, had you accepted, you wouldn't be in this predicament now, would you?"

Gisburne felt as if his stomach had magically vanished, and there was nothing but an empty pit left where it ought to have been. He paled and began to panic. Mark couldn't reject him! To turn him out or hand him over, meant certain death.

"It was a mistake!" Gisburne shot out of his chair, grabbed Mark, turning him around, needing to face him. "Any...feelings that may have kept me in Nottingham are well and truly gone. I'll pledge myself to you. Nothing will make me go back. Nothing."

Mark cooly looked him up and down. "We'll see." He covered Gisburne's hands where they were clutching at his shoulders, with his own. "But you're right, you had served me well, and I must confess I had often thought of enjoying your services again. Of course you can stay."

Relief overcame Gisburne. He grabbed Mark to him, pulling him in a fierce embrace. He buried his face against Mark's shoulder, repeating, "thank you, my lord, thank you!"

Mark chuckled and stroked Gisburne's hair in a soothing manner. "There, there Guy."

A few minutes passed before Gisburne finally collected himself, straightened, and stepped back. He brushed his hair out of his face and let out a long breath. "Forgive me for such a display-"

Mark smiled at him. "Nonsense, I had always found your enthusiasm to be one of your greatest qualities. Now," Mark clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "I think it's just about time for dinner. Have you've eaten yet?"

Gisburne shook his head.

"Good, then we shall all dine together. And leave your worries for the night. When de Rainault figures out where you've gone, we'll be ready for him."

Mark kept a hand on Gisburne's back as he maneuvered him out of the office and led him back to the hall. Gisburne had the opportunity to see the house's center of business that he didn't in his hasty entrance. The straw on the floor was fresh, bright tapestries decorated the walls, and they had managed to find the right balance of having enough light, but not too smoky. A pair of dogs paced the table, waiting for their scraps. Already seated and ignoring the dogs, was another young man about Gisburne's age, perhaps a year or two younger. He had pale blond hair that curled at the ends as well as a round face and bright blue eyes that gave him an altogether cherubic quality.

"Harold of Coutances, I would like you to meet Sir Guy of Gisburne."

Harold merely gave him a glance-over as Gisburne sat down at the table. "You are recovered, then?"

"Yes, fully."

Harold snorted, disrupting his pretty and innocent features. "Surprising, given your earlier performance."

Gisburne's cheeks burned to have shown such weakness earlier, and to strangers! "I apologize for my behaviour-"

"Nonsense, there's nothing to apologise for." Mark smiled at Gisburne but shot Harold an ill-favored glance. "I'm actually flattered and pleased that you thought to come to me in your time of need.

"Now, since Guy is to be staying with us for some time, he should be made familiar with the manor. Harold would be happy to give you a tour, wouldn't you, Harold? And when you're done, I'll wish to speak with him in my chambers."

"If my lord wishes it."

"He does. I will have to find some sort of position for you, Guy. You don't like to be idle, I remember, always preferred to have a purpose, unlike some."

With a meaningful look to Harold, Mark bid his adieus. Harold stood and started walking and talking without waiting for his charge. Gisburne hurried after him as he started explaining which hallway went where and what lay behind the doors. Mark had been dearly rewarded for his upkeep of the king's forests, his estate was enough to warrant a good-sized manor house. "So, a knight of the realm, quite an accomplishment I imagine."

Gisburne was startled by the sudden turn to small talk. He didn't actually have a response, which didn't matter because Harold kept talking. "You met Philip in Nottingham I believe."

"Yes, I-"

"He had nothing nice to say about that place when he came back," Harold chuckled.

Gisburne imagined that was the truth. Things hadn't exactly gone the way anyone planned. Mark had Robin Hood and his men captured, ready for execution, but then the Wolfshead's pet Saracen had disguised himself as the executioner and Mark had received a sword through his side. The wound was thought to be fateful, but he had recovered after several days. In that time, though, de Gisgard had gone back to the king to inform him of how Mark was not able to live up to their expectations. So new orders arrived from London: Mark was to go back to his old position in Lincolnshire, and de Rainault was reinstated as sheriff. And Gisburne was where he always had been, under de Rainault's spiteful heel.

Harold led Guy into the solarium. He finally stopped walking. "Well, this is it. His chambers." He knocked. They were summoned in. "I brought Sir Guy back to you, like you asked."

"Thank you, you may go now. Good night."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Harold sneered, "my lord," and left.

"So tell me, what do you think of your new home?"

"It's very nice, quite...clean."

"I can't abide disorder or too much dirt." Mark acknowledged, giving his nails a quick inspection. "And what of your guide, what do you make of him?"

"I feel he doesn't care for me."

Mark laughed. "I imagine he wouldn't! He sees you as a threat."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Harold is the third son of the Baron of Coutances. The old Baron died, the eldest has already inherited their moderate property, the second son's found his way into the church, and young Harold finds himself both penniless and lacking in ambition. Always a bad combination. He's completely dependent upon my favour. And now, with you here, my attention may shift to where he'll just be ignored, or at worst, turned-out because he just doesn't amuse me the way he used to. Honestly, I've been finding his presence tiresome for some time now. I'm sure even if you hadn't arrived to distract me, he'd soon be out there having to charm some other lonely rich man."

"How long has he been here?"

Mark put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes skyward in thought. "Seems like forever." He stepped closer to Gisburne. Once they were merely inches apart, Mark lowered his voice. "I am very pleased to have you here, Guy. My biggest regret from Nottingham was having only one night with you."

Gisburne's eyes widened in surprised. There was so much more to regret over the whole ordeal: losing Sarak, the injury, being embarrassed by Robin Hood, losing the king's confidence. He hesitated to believe Mark was being at all sincere. "But, surely..."

Mark sighed deeply. "Yes, I did take more than one loss. Sarak ended disappointedly. So, I have had to hire three men to replace the skill he provided, but you.... " Mark chuckled at his own mawkishness. "Sometimes I'd even imagine... Well, never mind that. Here you are now." He brushed the back of his hand down Gisburne's cheek.

Despite himself, Gisburne shivered at the touch, unused to such affection. He hated himself for such a reaction. He was a soldier and a knight of the realm. A man of such distinction should not quake so at a lover's touch like some simpering milkmaid. Yet as Mark's hands slid down his body to start removing his belt, Gisburne decided that he didn't care.

Mark grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him down into a claiming kiss. Keeping the embrace he led Gisburne further into the room, towards the bed. They pulled apart for air, and Gisburne sighed when Mark licked at his lips. Mark went back to removing the younger man's clothing, and once Gisburne was divested of his garments, he was pulled back into another passionate kiss. Mark was still fully clothed. The sensation of Gisburne's bare skin pressed against all that leather was strange and erotic.

Mark led him to the bed, blankets already turned down, and positioned him to sit on the mattress' edge. Gisburne watched Mark undress. His body was just as he remembered, broad and muscular, skin pale. He came over to the bedside and ran a hand through Gisburne's hair.

Guy leaned forward, pressing his lips to Mark's chest. The hand still stroking his head seemed an encouragement, so he let his mouth work its way down Mark's stomach and brought one hand up, first touching lightly the white scar on his side, then slid over to grasp him at the base of his fully erect cock.

Suddenly, Mark stopped him, pushed both head and hand away. Gisburne blinked up at him, confused. "Not tonight. Tonight I want all of you." He leaned forward, braced his hands on the bed, either side of Gisburne, and kissed him until Guy's head was bent back, his hair brushing at his shoulder blades. With more pressure, Gisburne was leaning back until fulling lying on the bed, Mark above him, their mouths never separating.

Gisburne was amazed at Philip Mark's restraint, his ability to take everything so slow, despite his obvious arousal. Gisburne was so unaccustomed to it, and was uncertain how in control he could keep himself. He was used to sex being fast and brutal, and had trained his body to keep pace so that he wasn't left wanting when de Rainault would immediately kick him out of bed and ordered him back to his own rooms.

Gisburne mentally berated himself to stop comparing, to not even think about the sheriff, and just lose himself in the present and the feel of hands and skin, lips and tongue.

Mark had him on his stomach, and trailed kisses down Gisburne's back, open-mouth, tongue caressing each knot of his spine. As he reached the end of the spine, the dip at the small of his back, he bit and sucked, causing Gisburne to gasp and squirm. Mark slid back up his body so that they were pressed together, front to back, his hardness nestled between Gisburne's buttocks.

"I've thought of this, so many nights," Mark said, breath hot in Guy's ear. "Did you think of me?"

He hadn't, but wish he had. In answer, he whimpered as Mark began to move his hips, in a sliding and tantalizing fashion. Gisburne wanted, needed, more.

"Please," he gasped out.

"Please what?" Marked asked, continuing the movement of his hips and brushed aside the hair sticking to the side of Gisburne's face. Gisburne could hear the teasing smile in his tone.

"Fuck me," he begged, squeezing his eyes shut against the embarrassing desperation in his voice.

Mark chuckled lightly. "Well, why didn't you say so?" He got up, and Gisburne shivered against the sudden loss of heat at his back. His breathing was harsh and ragged, and they had barely begun! He rolled his hips slowly into the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his aching cock.

Distantly he heard a stopper being pulled from a bottle, and Mark returned to the bed, kneeling above him. A hand stroke down his back, and he arched into it. "You're beautiful," Mark murmured.

Gisburne shook his head, denying such platitudes. His entire body was already burning, his heart hurting with the desire; he could not tolerate the affection.

One warm hand palmed his left buttock, Gisburne spread his legs to give him easier access. In one smooth stroke two oil-slicked fingers slid inside him. He moaned with the familiar pressure and heat. The fingers twisted and pulled out only to return with more of the spicy-smelling oil, and pushed in again in one confident move and touched the spot deep within that made Gisburne yelp, the pleasure shooting through him to fingertips and toes. His hips automatically lifted, seeking more of the sensation. Gisburne made a whimper of protest when those fingers left him again, no longer caring how pathetic he was sounding.

Mark shushed him and helped him up on to his knees and elbows. Gisburne looked over his shoulder and was just able to see Mark set the oil bottle on the floor and the movements and sound of him slicking his erection. Gisburne lowered his head and shivered, remembering that night in Nottingham. He had been intimidated by Philip Mark's size, uncertain he would be able to accommodate him. It had been uncomfortable at first, the pain almost as it was as his first time with a man.

But now that he knew what to expect, he let a long breath, forcing himself to relax. Still, at the first touch of head Mark's cock at his entrance, Guy bit his lip in anticipation of the pain of being stretched further than he was use to. Mark didn't rush, but never hesitated as he pushed forward. Gisburne's breath deepened, and he let out a low moan as he felt himself being filled and that sensitive spot being stimulated again.

Mark let out his own breath, "perfect." He took a moment, reveling in the feeling of being held in that tight passage. He began to move, grunting with each thrust forward, mixing with Gisburne's gasps of pleasures. Gisburne was so hard that he could feel the wet tip of his cock dotting at his stomach with their movements. Then when he felt long fingers slip from his waist and encircled his straining member, he knew he was done for. "My lord!" Gisburne cried out, forgetting Mark's preference of his name being used. "I'm sorry, I-" His breath was taken away and his body tensed. With a great shudder, he came, shouting wordlessly.

He immediately felt bereft of strength and almost fell forward except for the strong arms coming around his waist and held him up. Mark abandoned his restraint and pounded into the limp body. All the while he told Gisburne over and over how he was "perfect" and "beautiful." Gisburne felt tears prick his eyes, and hated himself.

Mark gave one final, powerful thrust, and stilled. His fingers gripped Gisburne's hips hard enough to likely leave bruises in the morning. Mark's gasped turned into a low moan and Gisburne felt the burst of his coming inside him, giving him one more ecstatic jolt of pleasure before collapsing, completely exhausted. Mark settled on top of him, panting into Gisburne's neck. After a couple minutes he kissed Gisburne there. They both hissed as Mark pulled out.

Gisburne felt sleep gaining on him. Eyes closed he only felt how Mark pulled the blankets over them, manhandled Guy until his head was resting on Mark's shoulders, and Mark's arm around his waist. A steady heatr beat thumped beneath his ear. Gisburne wondered if this was what it was like to be loved, having nothing to compare it to. He sighed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Gisburne awoke to the mid-morning sun. He was in a large bed, warm, and pleasantly sore in all the right places. That he was alone was disappointing, but not surprising. The door creaked open and Gisburne sat up. To his shock it was a servant boy, no more than thirteen years of age, who entered. He gathered the blankets to hide his nakedness. "What are you doing here?" He barked.

The boy jumped. "Sorry, my lord, I didn't know you were awake." He bowed his head respectfully. "My lord asked for some food to be brought to you." He held up the tray he was holding and carried it to a small table not far from the bed. He set it down and turned towards Gisburne. "He also said that he would be busy with his foresters this morning," he rolled his eyes heavenward, trying to remember word for word the message he was charged with delivering, "but that he would see you after his business with them has concluded." He gave a sharp nod, indicating that was all he had to say and bowed before leaving the room.

Gisburne stared after him. He must have been an already well-trained servant or too young to understand what a naked man in his master's bed indicated. Or perhaps, very unlike de Rainault, Philip didn't care what the servants knew or witnessed. Gisburne smiled to himself as he realised that using Mark's first name was finally becoming natural.

He got out of bed. He found the basin of water and scrubbed away the previous night's sweat and other bodily fluids. He dressed, and then Gisburne ate his meal. Chewing on an apple, he considered the boy's message and some if its vaguer aspects. Was he to wait here for a summons, or for Philip to come to him? Or could he find him first and just wait for his business with his foresters to be over? Deciding he could use the vagueness as an excuse, and not wanting to stay in one room until further notice, he went out and tried to remember the way to the hall.

He congratulated himself for his navigational skills, having taken only one wrong turn. He could tell he was getting closer as voices grew louder. He stopped dead in his tracks in an archway as the herald announced, "Robert de Rainault, High Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Where is he?" de Rainault demanded without preamble, storming in.

Gisburne moved closer to watch the proceedings, but kept himself out of sight. Mark was sitting at the head of the main table. De Rainault stopped at the other end, mindful of the guards moving to protect their lord if need be. Harold was present as well, sitting at Mark's left, looking amused by the scene.

"Where is whom?"

"You know very well, who," de Rainault snarled, "Guy of Gisburne."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Lost him, have you? You know, you really ought to be more organised."

"I know he is here."

"Is he?"

"Stop trying to be coy. If you hand him over, I swear no harm will come to him. His running away could only be seen as further evidence of his guilt. I need to talk to him and explain that I will be willing speak to the king on his behalf."

Gisburne's heart was sickened. Part of him wanted to believe it all, but the other part angered, recognizing that de Rainault continued to insist none of it was his fault.

"If I happen to encounter Sir Guy, I'll inform him."

"He is here! I am not alone, my lord, if you do not give him up willingly, I'll have this place ransacked until I have him again."

Mark's expression darkened. He was not a man who angered quickly. He managed to handle most situations with a good humoured detachment. Guy had only seen him fly into a rage once, and only when de Rainault didn't know when to quit goading. The scene before him looked as it could quickly deteriorate the same way.

Gisburne stepped out of the shadows and made his presence known. "I'm here, sheriff."

De Rainault watched him cross the room to Mark's side, eyes bulging with anger and hate.

"Your loyalty is as fickle as a woman's," de Rainault sneered. "I suppose you've already had him on his knees for you...swearing his allegiance, of course," he said to Mark.

Gisburne noticed the way Harold glowered at that remark. Coutances was more offended by it than the one de Rainault had meant the dig to be for. In fact, Mark ignored it completely. "This conversation is over. I have no intention on giving him over to you."

"He is a fugitive, I have every right to take him into my custody, by force if I must. You're not some monastery he can claim sanctuary in."

"Legal rights? I am the law here. Gisburne is only a fugitive in Nottinghamshire. He has no criminal status here, if he's truly a criminal at all."

"I'll appeal to the king, and he can make you--"

Mark laughed. "You go to the king on your own, and I'm sure he'll happily take your head in Gisburne's stead. From what Guy has told me it seems you have equal share, if not a total claim, in the guilt of this unfortunate matter of the king's grain."

The sheriff fumed, reaching a boiling point. He'd burst at any moment, shouting profanities and threats of extreme violence if he doesn't get his way. To Gisburne's surprise, de Rainault instead breathed, physically calming himself. He schooled his features to resemble patience. It greatly unsettled Gisburne. "With all due respect," de Rainault said, and Gisburne doubted, "this is a matter between myself and my steward. I don't see why I should be talking to you at all. I want to be able to talk to him in private. I'll keep it civil of course."

Mark looked up at Guy. It was his decision. Gisburne considered, looking down the table at the man who had been the driving force, one way or another, for everything he was and did the past few years. To discuss their future privately, Gisburne figured, was the least he could grant him in this case. He nodded. "All right."

"I want a guard to go with you. In case you should forget to be civil," Mark told de Rainault.

"Fine."

Mark motioned and a soldier came forward to lead them to a room just off the hall. It was set up for such small private negotiations it seemed. A square wood table sat in the middle with chairs on each side. The guard stood in the corner nearest the door. De Rainault gave him an evil look.

Gisburne sat down, but the sheriff remained standing. "Well?" Guy asked, wanting to get it over with.

De Rainault leaned on the table. "You must come with me. We can both plead our case to the king together. If I go back to Nottingham and Brewer empty-handed, I'll be dead for certain."

"Then I don't see why I should take a risk for merely the chance of pardon just for your sake. Besides, with you dead, Philip could get the position again, and I'd return home anyway."

"Why you....ungrateful...harlot! You're truly delusional if you believe that this little faerie story you’ve concocted could possibly come true. As if he'd make sheriff again after he bungled it before."

"Then it's amazing you've managed to stay sheriff for so long."

De Rainault rose up and hit Gisburne in the face so hard that the younger man toppled backward in his chair. The guard immediately jumped forward and grabbed de Rainault. As he was being dragged from the room, de Rainault called back "I hope Philip soon realizes he's taken in nothing but a viscous stray!"

Rubbing his chin, Gisburne followed them out to the hall. The guard was relating to Mark what had happened while forcing de Rainualt to a kneeling position. Mark's expression was stormy as he listened. He stood above de Rainault, glaring down at the small man. "You dare to come to my home not only insult me and my guest, but to strike my guest as well? For this I should throw you in the dungeons."

"No!" To the surprise of all, it was Gisburne who made this protest. "I would not wish to be staying anywhere where he is, even if it is under my feet."

Philip smiled at him. "Well said." He turned back to de Rainault. "If you darken my doorway again, I will execute you for trespassing." He gestured for the guards to take him away.

De Rainault was practically carried out as he started kicking and shouting-an all too familiar scene. "This isn't over! I'm not leaving Lincolnshire until I have what is rightfully mine!"

Philip sighed. "Well, that puts on damper on my plans."

"My lord?"

"I had hoped to take you out, show you more of my lands. But I feel it might be best if you stay within the manor's gates for the time being."

Gisburne hated de Rainault all the more. Separate or apart, he managed to keep him imprisoned, making his life difficult.

"Hardly seems worth all the fuss," Harold said, coming up to Gisburne's side, giving him another disdainful look-over. "Not worth this mini-war that sheriff seems keen on having."

Philip laughed. "I'm suddenly reminded of the Iliad, with our own Helen of Troy."

Gisburne blushed. Harold snorted. "I don't see the comparison," he said, and sulked off.

Philip watched him leave. "I had hoped the two of you could have gotten along. The three of us could have a lot of fun together. Ah well.

"Unfortunately, I still have business to attend to today, and I'll have to leave you. I'll have someone show you to the stables. I'm sure you'll want to make sure your horse is being properly taken care of." He clapped Guy on the shoulder and headed off to prepare for the day's travels.

Guy had been anxious about Fury. He had left his horse just inside the gates upon his arrival, and had not seen him since. A servant stepped forward and offered to take him to the stables.

The stables were as well attended as the manor's interior. Mark had his own collection of fine horses. Gisburne was very impressed. Constantly at Nottingham he had to reprimand lazy stable boys and incompetent groomsmen. Not that he cared for the well being of any beast save his own. So use was he to attending to Fury's needs, it unsettled him to see a strange boy taking a brush to his horse's flank.

"Give me that!" Gisburne snatched the brush away. Startled and fearful, the boy immediately ran from the stall and right out of the stables.

Fury stamped his hooves and nickered at the commotion. Gisburne shushed him. He ran a palm down the long bridge of his nose, calming. The horse settled and Gisburne continued to brush him. The rhythmic and familiar motions as soothing for Guy as it was for Fury. "Well, looks like this is to be our new home," Guy said aloud. Fury snorted. "It is different...but maybe it could actually be better."

The noise of a couple stable hands coming back to their duties broke into Guy's reflection. He immediately shut-up lest he be found talking to a horse. He made sure Fury was fed and watered. Content with his horse's treatment, he left the stables.

Gisburne suddenly found himself completely unoccupied. Philip hadn't assigned him any sort of duty yet. He was still unfamiliar with the manor and its daily routines. He was in fact lost, no direction and unfamiliar with his surroundings. He had no notion of the lay of the land beyond the manor's gates. Now thanks to de Rainault threats, Philip wasn't going to let him venture far for the present. He felt himself at a distinct disadvantage. It grated on his soldier's sensibilities.

He found the steward and asked about any maps. He showed Guy back to the office he had met Mark the previous evening. The maps were collected together on a shelf. The steward left him to peruse them, but with a warning about making sure he put them back where they belonged when he was finished.

Gisburne wasn't very good at reading maps. He had to take the time too orient himself compared to the bird's eye view represented on paper. He determined North from his position and turned the map so that the compass rose on it pointed North as well. He found one that showed Mark's estate. Holding in his hands he went to a window, making it easier to connect the drawings to his surroundings. As Justice of the Forest, Philip Mark acquired an impressive property.

More maps gave the whole of Lincolnshire, but he was more interested in what there was of the surrounding forests where Philip made his name and fortune. The maps showed the main paths through, and were also marked with known popular hideaways for outlaws. These forests had been thoroughly investigated, an opportunity never taken with Sherwood. It was too overrun by peasants who knew the trees better than any soldier, and therefore too dangerous for the sheriff's men.

We have no Robin Hoods in Lincolnshire.

He had the maps spread out on the desk, and seated himself seated in the chair behind it. Hearing the door open, he shot out of his seat, panicked that Philip would not be pleased to have found him there. But it was not him, it was Coutances.

Guy relaxed and sat back down. "Oh, it's you."

"Making yourself comfortable, I see," Harold said, crossing the room. Gisburne ignored him. Harold leaned on the desk, hands splayed on the papers covering it. "Just how long do you think you have? How long before he tires of you or is distracted by yet another pretty, young face?"

Gisburne kept his head down, eyes on the maps without seeing it.

"Four years of devotion I gave him and he just decides I bore him and should be thrown to the wolves. What will you do when your time comes? Crawl back to your sheriff?" He scoffed. "As if he'd have you back."

Guy clenched his jaw and glared up at Harold. "I guess I'll just have to do a better job at not becoming tiresome."

Harold straightened and arched a pale eyebrow. "I'm not the first, you know, and you definitely won't be the last." He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Gisburne wondered what was taking Philip so long of finally ridding himself of that petulant brat. His concentration for study so neatly broken, he rolled the maps back up and put them away.

With nothing else to do, Gisburne wandered the corridors, trying not to get lost and to try and remember the layout so that he wouldn't get lost in the future.

Mark returned at sundown. Back in Philip's chambers, Mark actually took interest in how Guy spent his day. He described the mundane tasks he occupied himself with and voiced his dissatisfaction with being kept indoors.

"I know, I know," Philip commiserated, "but as long as that little rat is in the area, I imagine he would try to seize any opportunity."

"But, my lord, if I was with you-"

"Don't concern yourself with it. I have every confidence it will only be a matter days and you can go where you please."

Though only slightly mollified, Gisburne did not press the matter. He moved on to the subject of Harold and their conversation.

Philip's eyes narrowed. "He is making more of a nuisance of himself than ever. That settles it, he leaves in the morning."

"Why not tonight?"

Philip laughed. "My dear, sweet, vindictive boy. After his years of service the least I can do is give him time to pack. Don't worry about him." He slid his fingers in Guy's hair. Philip opened Guy's lips with his own, deepening the kiss. Philip slowly pulled away. He brushed a thumb along Guy's lower lip, gazing at it intently. "I do so enjoy your mouth."

Gisburne awoke alone again. The morning sun was barely over the horizon, only the faintest amount of light casting a blue-gray on the room. A commotion in the corridor had him sitting up in bed. Beyond the bedroom door came the sounds of running feet, heavy objects being dropped or thrown, and voices shouting. One voice was particularly loud. Harold de Coutance. Gisburne could not make out the words, but Harold's tone was of protest. Guy smiled, completely self-satisfied. The brat was finally being moved out.

The noises grew louder until he could clearly hear Harold yelling, "It's all his fault!" The door shuddered against the force of a body slamming against it. Guy jumped out from bed and grabbed his sword, prepared for attack. But then there was clang of armor and the distinct sounds of a scuffle. The pounding on the door stopped. Harold's voice receded further down the corridor, still calling out blame and obscenities.

The door swung gently open. Philip entered. Seeing Gisburne standing there, stark naked, sword in hand, ready to defend himself, made Philip smile. "Maybe I should have let him break in. It would have been a far more entertaining display."

Guy put the sword down. Philip clasped him on the shoulders, his smile widening. "It's just you and I now. Come, I'm hungry and you need to keep your strength up."

Soon after they broke their fast, a messenger came, sent by de Rainault. "What does he want now?" Mark asked.

"The High Sheriff Nottingham, Rob-"

"Yes, yes, get on with it."

The messenger cleared his throat. "He bade me to bring you warning of his intentions. True, he and the men with him is no force to match yours-"

"I'm glad to he can admit that."

"-But, for each day you do not willingly turn over Sir Guy of Gisburne into his custody, he will send for more men until-"

"Until he empties Nottingham of its soldiers? A fine day for your population of outlaws that will be."

"Until he has enough to take Sir Guy by force," the messenger finished, the interruptions having no affect on fulfilling his duty.

"I suppose your sheriff will want a response. You can tell him this: the time it would take him to muster his little army is more than enough for me to send my own messenger to the king. I imagine he would not look kindly on how de Rainault is wasting resources on some domestic squabble whilst England is at war. Who will be his scapegoat then? Well, that's all I have to say on the matter."

The messenger bowed saying, "my lord," and left.

"Do you really intend to write to the king?" Gisburne asked.

"Not really. De Rainault's threats are empty. He knows if even tries to lay siege here, he'll be overstepping his boundaries. A battle right here in England, between Norman lords over one man? Even if he were to capture you, I hardly think King John would approve of his extravagant means. After a few days of this stalemate, and a couple more pathetic attempts of intimidation, I'm sure he'll just go away."

"I must caution you about treating de Rainault with such flippancy, my lord."

"His plan, which I'm sure he calls it, is nonsensical and completely unreasonable. It's a bluff, and I intend to call it. Once he realizes I won't be fooled by such posturing he'll come to his senses and leave."

"Never count on him coming to his senses. No matter how unreasonable a plan may be, he will determinedly pursue it. He persists on getting what we wants, no matter the cost."

"Yet clearly persistence never pays off. It's all cost and no results with him. As an ambitious young man you should have cut yourself loose long ago."

Guy grimaced. "'Misguided sentimentality' I believe you called it."

"So I did. How witty of me."

The next couple of days went fairly routine. A messenger was sent to repeat de Rainault's warnings and inform that he was making good on his threat, he was gathering more soldiers. The claim was confirmed by Mark's own scouts.

Guy became increasingly restless. Philip finally relented and allowed for him to take Fury out for some exercise. Philip rode with him, as well as two guards to keep an eye out for any of de Rainault's spies. It was an open field, and they kept close to the outer walls. Despite the much desired jaunt in the open air, Fury beneath him, and Mark at his side, Gisburne found himself plagued by an unshakable unease. It was a kind of feeling he hadn't had since Mark agreed to let him stay in Lincolnshire under his protection.

"I'm afraid you're not enjoying this little outing as we had hoped," Philip remarked. "Is something the matter?"

They brought their horses to a stop. Guy frowned down at the top of Fury's head, and idly stroked his mane, trying to find appropriate words to explain the sensation. "I had been in de Rainault's service for some time. And sometimes I would get a feeling. I would just know he had hatched some new scheme, or the defining moment of one of his plans was at hand, even without him telling me."

"And that's what you're feeling now? You think he's about to make his move?"

Gisburne nodded.

"Can't say I care much for this idea that you can tell what he's thinking, even when separated."

Gisburne smiled to himself at the note of jealousy in Philip's voice.

Gisburne's unease lingered through the evening into the night, making him unresponsive to Philip's attentions. This frustrated Philip but he let it go with a warning about not having it happen too often.

In the blackest time of night, Gisburne had finally fallen asleep. Only to be violently awoken soon after with the sensation of the world being pulled out from under him. He tried to shout out, but a familiar hand clapped over his mouth. "Not a sound, Gisburne," de Rainault hissed in his ear, "or lover there gets it."

From his restrained position on the floor, Guy looked up at the bed. In the dim candlelight he saw Harold bent over Philip, a sword's point held right at his former master's throat. Philip was awake and glaring up at his attacker.

Guy stopped his struggling against the two soldiers holding him on his knees. "What does it matter?" He asked. "Your new partner will kill him anyway out of spite."

"Probably. I don't really care."

Harold moved ever so slightly, drawing a small line of blood just below Philip's adam's apple. Guy tried to surge forward, but the soldiers' hands kept him down. He turned to the sheriff. "If you leave him alone, I promise I'll go with you quietly."

De Rainault raised his eyebrows. "Self-sacrificing all of a sudden are you?" He turned to Philip. "You must have some kind of secret talent for gaining that kind of loyalty, even from a whore."

Guy had no time to retort, at that very moment the door burst open and half a dozen of Mark's guards stormed in, crossbows trained on Harold, de Rainault and the two soldiers. Philip shoved the shocked Harold off him, laughing. "When Guy told me he suspected you mighht make your move tonight, I doubled the watch. Clearly it paid off." He got out of bed, motioning for his men to grab the intruders. "It's amazing, really, that you basically used the same plan as before: sneaking in via secret passageways. I'm disappointed in your lack of originality. Take them to the dungeon," he ordered. "I'll deal with them in the morning."

Harold shouted obscenities as they dragged him away. De Rainault, almost disturbingly, said nothing.

Gisburne stood, rubbing at his arms where the soldiers' grips were sure to leave dark bruises. "What do you have in mind for them?" He asked.

"I think I'll leave it as a surprise. Try to get some sleep."

"I don't think I could."

"Does our little encounter have your heart racing, blood rushing?" Philip asked, smiling, eyes flashing with lust.

Guy couldn't deny the arousing effect danger always had on him. He responded eagerly to Philip's hands and lips, surging instinctively against the older man's body. As he was pressed to the bed, there was the smallest twinge in the pit of his stomach, an unwelcome slice of guilt formed from only having been in de Rainault's presence, touched by him, merely moments before.

The encounter was quick and rougher than any of their previous couplings. It was all grappling limbs, the feverish press of sweat-slicked bodies, mouths devouring. Philip gave him one last deep, tongue-sucking kiss before rolling off him. Guy lay on his back, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath, brain reeling from the intensity. It worked though, and as his heartbeat slowed, Guy drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later, they stood together in the hall, waiting for two of their prisoners to be brought out of the dungeons. De Rainault and de Coutances were escorted in together, their hands tied behind their backs. As they were forced to kneel in front of Philip and Guy, de Rainault held his chin up, defiantly keeping his dignity. Harold, on the other hand, looked like he had a very bad night indeed.

"What happened to his jaw?" Philip asked. It was bruised, swollen, and looking slightly misaligned.

"It's broken, my lord," replied one of the guards.

"What did you do that for?"

"I did it," de Rainault confessed. "Last night. I told him if he didn't shut up and stop his whining, I would shut him up for him."

Gisburne desperately tried to bite back a laugh, but he smiled all the same. De Rainault saw it, and smirked. In that moment, Guy remembered all of his affection for the bastard.

"I suppose for once I can commend one of your actions," Philip drawled, amused. "But I'm afraid one good deed won't endear you enough to have an impact on today's proceedings." He began to pace in front of the prisoners. "You are charged with trespassing and conspiracy to kidnapping and murder. You are clearly guilty of these charges, and you shall be executed forthwith. Your two soldiers as well. As accomplices."

Harold struggled in his bonds, unable to speak, all he could manage were muffled grunts of anger. De Rainault, expecting nothing else, kept his expression blank. He merely looked at Gisburne. No pleading, not even glaring. Just looking, watching, and waiting.

"And now Guy, I have a present for you. I'll let you choose the manner of which your sheriff is to die. Though I think I can imagine what you'd find most suitable." He stood close to Gisburne, and slowly removed Guy's sword from its scabbard. He stood back, holding the sword out, offering it for Guy to take.

Gisburne did take it. He rested the broadside on de Rainault's shoulder, the sharp edge close to his neck. He took a breath and hesitated.

Philip placed a hand on his shoulder, leaned in close and said into Guy's ear. "Don't dwell on that, my love. Think only on how he would easily have you killed in his stead and feel no remorse."

It was true. One swift stroke, and so much could be put behind him. But the sword felt heavy in his hand, heavier than it ever was. De Rainault never stopped watching him. Gisburne hated how weak and uncertain he felt. He tried to cover it up with disdain. "Nothing to say, my lord sheriff? No witty last words? No scathing remark?"

De Rainault smiled. "The only thing I have to say is that I know you, Gisburne. Know you too well for your own good. Because I know if you really meant to kill me, you would have done it by now."

Gisburne started at the revelation and took a step back. He was right, and Guy could not deny it. He let the sword slip from de Rainault's shoulder, the tip scraping on the flagstone floor. He bowed his head unable to look at either of the men he had called master and lover.

Philip huffed in disappointment. "Fine then. You'll hang alongside Harold this afternoon." He clicked his fingers, signaling the guards to take them away.

"Wait." Everyone stopped and turned to Gisburne. "My lord," he said, finally lifting his head to look at Philip, "will you still permit me to decide his fate?"

Mark studied his favourite through narrowed eyes. "Very well."

"Then I say assign guards to take him to Newark to face William Brewer and the king's fury on his own. Let him take responsibility for his actions, and let them rightly dispense the appropriate justice."

De Rainault snarled. "Idiot, you're sentencing me to death anyway! I suppose this way you can keep your conscience clear?"

Guy stepped towards him again. The sheriff's anger and hate like a soothing balm to his nerves, a calming return to normalcy. He smiled, smug now. "Don't worry, just plead your case, and the king may pardon you. If not.... Your mother is supposed to be visiting you yet, isn't she? Maybe she'll come and pay the bail for you."

"Gisburne...." The sheriff's voice was low and threatening.

"Very well, do as he said," Philip told the guards, "and return Harold to the dungeon."

Guy placed a hand on de Rainaut's face. "Good-bye, my lord sheriff, I don't think I'll miss you."

De Rainault was pulled away. He shouted Gisburne's name once more before he was too far away to be ever heard again.

Philip stood in front of Guy, framing the younger man's face in his hands. They smiled at each other. "No more worries. It's just you and I now, Guy, just you and I."