Disclaimer: Main characters owned by the BBC and Tiger Aspect. I get nothing out of this except an unhealthy enjoyment!
Setting: S2x13, right after Guy betrays Marian to the Sheriff.

Summary: While in Acre, Vaisey muses on Gisborne's decision, and Marian's fate.

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Plaything

Birds sing familiar songs on foreign shores. He plumps the pillow, and chokes as the stench of incense wafts from the fabric. Reclining carefully, the Sheriff considers the leper on a chain in his storeroom below, and smiles.

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You are quite the amateur. I thought all those years as Nightwatchman would make you skilled at subversion, but all you managed was to bleat out your plot against me to my lieutenant. In return for a king's life—and a sheriff's death—you would give yourself to him. Once your victory is assured, you will let him pry open the supposed valuable you keep secured. Naughty, naughty. Unfortunately for you, Guy does not want to put his key in your lock just yet. I am pleased, if not a bit surprised, to see he is not debased enough to accept your tawdry offer. The man is proud, and less a fool than I feared.

Yet, when my need is most critical, you nearly force me to kill him. He is lucky. Only on the threshold of oblivion does he recognize what he genuinely craves—truth, which I can give him, though it may not be as lovely as your lies. But he no longer desires your pretty words in his ear. He wants only power. Soon, he will have as much as he can bear, though not a lick more. One should never overfeed a favorite hound, or risk loss of loyalty.

What must you be thinking right now, my Lady? Hoping I am dead, and my black knight is preparing for your lackluster embrace? Perhaps you tell yourself he might not be so bad, once all the deeds are done. Do you imagine bestowing your gratitude upon him, as you curl your fingers through hair black as a raven's wing? You know, I find it is actually quite soft, more like owl feathers than the sharp quilled carrion crow. And the noises he fails to stifle when it is stroked are more charming than you might think.

Maybe you believe he is harsh, expecting his touch will be brutal, but his hands are more delicate than they appear within heavy gloves. My my, Marian, the things they could have done to you...

Your eyes have always betrayed your baser interest. I think you might have come to enjoy his deep voice grunting your name, though I can tell you, his silence is more compelling. Oh indeed, that tongue can be put to better use than speech.

Once the pretense of your disdain were shed, you would discover his skin is smooth under the leather, just as you might wish, unblemished except by the scars we have given him. But despite the layers he wears, neither flesh nor hide protect him from my words. I have not seen him weep from pain, but nevertheless, I can bring tears to his eyes. Did you hope, eventually, for those eyes to look at you with a devotion only I have seen? A clue...

He would have given his life for you once, had you let him, but now he has given me yours. Placed it right in my hands, the good hound. He believes I will keep it safe, for he would take you still. Splendid as that would be to watch, I tire of this game. He has played long enough with you, I think. Instead, I will take you far away, where all trace will be obliterated. But never fear, he will not be forlorn for long. We can always find a new plaything.

~Fin~