Title: Ten Percent
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Allan/Will/Djaq, Robin/Marian
Spoilers: Up to 2x07
Summary: Has Allan got what it takes to be a rich nobleman?

It was raining...

Will Scarlett's feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the forest. He was concentrating on one thing only, returning to the camp to share his news with the others. His brows were knitted in a furious frown and he was panting. A clearing opened up in the forest and Will, in a practised move ducked his head and rolled down the slight decline, so avoiding a trap carefully laid to capture unwanted guests. When he burst into the camp therefore, shock and confusion was evident upon the faces of the other outlaws until, that is, Will removed his hood and sat heavily upon the dry leaves under the shelter.

"Will..."Djaq, who had been sleeping stretched out on the ground moaned and sat up "...this had better be good. You don't wake me up so rudely for nothing!"

Will gave a wry smile as he breathed deeply trying to get his breath back.

"Oh, it's good. That is, it's interesting. You know they have been rebuilding Knighton Hall?" At this point he glanced at Marian who nodded. "Well I have just found out who the owner is...I watched him take up residence today while I was at the blacksmiths." Will's young face twisted into a contemptuous smile and he spat "Lord Allan of Knighton!"

"Allan...?" five enquiring voices echoed.

"Well that's it then, isn't it?" Little John summarised, "He's past the point of no return now, traitor!"

Djaq turned away from the others, stretching back out on the blanket beneath her, Will detected tears in her eyes and was sure that she would soon excuse herself to cry properly elsewhere. And he would follow her and comfort her although it was he who needed comforting too, he who also felt keenly the loss of Allan. But Will did his best to hide these feelings when he was not alone or with Djaq. He turned to Robin who was looking pensive.

"He's throwing a housewarming party, tomorrow night. All the local society will be there. The Sheriff, Gisbourne...and others, all those loyal to the Sheriff, wearing their finest jewels and bringing housewarming gifts for their new best friend..."

Robin grinned, a spark lighting up his face,

"I believe we have a plan then lads...and ladies" he winked at Marian. "Tomorrow Allan of Knighton will find out the very great inconvenience of being rich!"

---

The following day dawned bright and clear, the rain had washed the forest and everything looked clean and fresh. Much was the first to wake, he always was. As he boiled water for washing, shaving and most importantly breakfast he listened to the dawn chorus and thought about what the day would bring. There would be a lot of preparation, polishing and sharpening weapons, salvaging broken arrows, greasing bowstrings, loading up the horses... Much could see his work would be cut out for him. Eventually at the end of the day Robin would be impetuous and rush in completely unprotected and probably alone...get himself injured and then when Much said 'I told you so' would gang up against him with the others, embarrassing and belittling him as usual.

Much took the water off the boil, he put down the pheasant he had been plucking and returned the herbs to their jar on the shelves cut into the side of the camp. Then he went back to bed.

---

When he woke up again it was to find a very clean shaven Robin leaning over him with a bowl of what smelt like pheasant stew. Confused Much glanced round him to where Marian knelt by the fire ladling out spoonfuls of stew. She was wearing a pinafore over her riding habit and when she saw his amazed face she winked and exclaimed loudly

"I think you overwork that man Robin, so I decided that I would do everything today. There is water boiled for washing, Much and then come and have your breakfast. As Much stripped of his shirt and began to wash in warm water just outside the camp he heard Marian berating the other outlaws. "Really all of you, it's about time you started to value him. You must all start to treat Much right!"

---

That night it was a silent crowd of outlaws who tied up their horses just outside Knighton. They had spent the day preparing as Much had anticipated and the last guests had arrived at the party, now in full swing. Robin, who knew all the secret ways to get into Knighton Hall, threw a rope over the beam that led up to Marian's old room. Marian was the first to swing herself up and over the windowsill as she had done many times before. The others followed quietly and only when they were safe in the chamber and both windows and door were closed did they dare to whisper

"How many guards did you count Will?" Robin asked

"Sixteen," was the answer, "But I bet you they're guarding the Sheriff, not Allan. As soon as he's gone, the place will be almost empty."

"Well let's hope Djaq gets her part of the deal sorted then."

---

A flash of deep black hair and the swirl of a golden dress captivated the new Lord of Knighton as he stood among his guests. He had been watching this figure all evening, a figure with skin the colour of sand and a small but strong physique. He was sure that it was her, but what was she doing here? His attention was dragged away from her as Gisbourne strode up, two goblets of wine in his hands.

"Here you are Allan," he passed him one of the goblets and toasted him before knocking back his drink. Rivulets of the red wine dribbled from between his lips and down his chin. Allan turned away feeling sick, in the half light it looked just like blood.

With Allan distracted by his new friend, the figure in gold picked up a goblet herself. From her sleeve she extracted a piece of cloth which she shook out into the cup and a white powder was absorbed into the wine. She then placed the goblet on the arm of the Sheriff's chair and removed the empty cup from the table before him. The Sheriff, occupied in a discussion with the daughter of a cloth merchant from Hull, picked up the cup without thinking and took a large gulp. The figure in gold smirked and leaned against the wall her eyes fixed on the Sheriff as if she were waiting. Less than five minutes after drinking from his spiked goblet he turned pale, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.

"Um, boy" he snapped at a young serving hand, "Where's the privy?"

"Out by the stables my Lord." The boy replied to the Sheriff, who now very quickly left the room his hands clasped over his backside. Gisbourne followed him, concern on his face, but he soon returned.

"The Sheriff has been taken ill," he announced "Nothing to worry about, but I will take him home now." He nodded at Allan and strode from the room.

The figure in gold smiled contentedly and then darted from the room, but not before Allan had recognised her features. He did not hurry after her but instead announced.

"My friends, who among us is really happy to celebrate without the superior company of our own Sheriff? I for one am so worried about his health that I would find it impossible to continue hosting this party."

One by one the nobles and gentry in the room murmured their approval and began to prepare to leave. Allan stood by the door shaking and kissing hands and thanking his guests until he was the only one left in the room. He sent his housekeeper and the serving man to bed and stood alone by the fire. Eventually he seemed to make his mind up and began to wearily climb the stairs up to his bedchamber. On the landing, he removed a silver dagger from his belt and an ordinary hunting knife from his boot and dropped them, then he pushed open the door of his room and stepped inside, his hands in the air.

---

Hello readers (you lovely people)

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Mog XXX