Inferno
"Guy, close that book and come here," Ghislaine motioned to her eleven year old son. She set down her embroidery and placed her hands upon his shoulders. "Mon fils, I think that you should not study today. What I wish you to do is go and play with Irving." Ghislaine was too enthralled with her own idea that she didn't feel Guy shudder at the mention of his unpleasant older cousin. "Would you do that for me, Guy? We don't have to tell your Father. Allez. Va jouer. Amusez-vous."
Slowly Guy left the manor, trying to reassure himself that all would be well. He dawdled along the path to his Uncle Beaumont's home, wishing that he had his own set of companions. Alas, his Father, Lord Roger, hardly let him away from his books long enough to even get to know other children.
He finally saw his Uncle's property in the distance. It was small, but not horribly so - Lord Roger had made sure that his younger brother had been well taken care of. The house was a decent size for the family of five and it was finely built. Not that his Uncle didn't complain profusely about the magnitude and quality.
Guy had to admit that if his Uncle had wanted the house to have more rooms added, he might have spent less coin on the new barn. The barn, itself, was a necessity - for the old one was so decrepit that it was useless and it needed to be torn down. But the excessive amount of pounds that had been spent on the barn, well - at least some of that could have been used to improve upon the main dwelling.
The young future Lord spotted his cousin, Irving and the latter's friends over by the family well. Exhaling, Guy set his shoulders firmly and, tilting his head upwards, tried to wipe the scowl off his face as he approached. "Irving. Irving," Guy intently watched the expression of his cousin, who was a month or so shy of fourteen. Irving frowned when he saw Guy and slid down from his seat on the side of the well.
"What are you doing here, Guy?" the older youth stated with not a little annoyance in he voice.
"Mother sent me. She wants me to spend the day with you…" Guy Crispin trailed off, lifting his eyes to the clouds.
Irving sneered, "And what are we supposed to do? We can't waste our time wet nursing a pup."
The distaste of being called a 'pup,' still fresh, Guy said dangerously, "Irving…"
By the expression upon Irving's face, he was about to give another valid reason for Guy to go home - but suddenly he smiled. Guy lifted his brows in confusion as his elder cousin spoke, "Aright Guy, you can stay - on one condition. We have to initiate you first."
"Initiate?" Guy's perplexed look grew and he looked Irving directly in the eyes.
"That's right. See, we," Irving gestured his hand in a sweeping motion to the other lads. "Have to make certain that you are, how do you say, old enough to tag along with us."
Guy opened his straight mouth to protest, but Irving jumped in with his own set of words, "This won't take long." Placing a hand upon Guy's back, he began to guide him, "It will just prove your - nerve. Come along."
Without much thought, Guy let his cousin steer him over to the ramshackle old barn. Standing Guy in front of it, Irving swung the door open. The door gave a moan, startling the entire group of boys. Guy peered inside as Irving pushed him forwards. Guy Crispin took in the spider webs, dust, muck, and dilapidated structure all at a glance. The barn clearly was upon its last legs.
The sunlight sprang in from cracks in the wooden roof, laying clear, for all to see, the stagnant air. Irving gave another shove and Guy was inside the doorway, the dust filled air causing him to cough. He turned back around, "What am I supposed to do?"
Irving grinned like a predator going in for the kill, "Why, just stay there for a few moments to prove your gumption."
Guy cocked his head, looking baffled and dubious, "That's all?"
"That's all," Irving echoed, laying his hand upon the door and beginning to ease it shut. "I'll open it when it's time for you to come out. Don't worry, Guy, it will be but a moment."
As soon as the door was closed, Guy's mind panicked. How could he be so foolish? So trusting? Only Irving knew what was about to happen. The wooden bar thumped into place, blocking the doors - his suspicions were confirmed.
In one quick movement, Guy was next to the doors, "Irving? This tisn't funny. I promise not to come out till you tell me, you don't need to bar the door… Irving?" The only response the black haired boy, received was unnerving laughter.
Even though he knew it to be futile, Guy grabbed at the door handles, trying to yank the door open. No such fortune. The next automatic action was to bang on the door, beating it to death. If, by a happy chance, the door shattered by his banging, Guy would be able to breath fresh air soon. If not - who knew how long he would be trapped inside the barn.
The youth spun around to take in his entire predicament. He was well aware of several things: he was locked in the barn, there was no other exit, and Irving would have to face his wrath when he was freed. Guy glowered at the four walls, his lips curled back into a snarl. This was not a good predicament!
Taking a deep choking breath of the dormant air, Guy began to call through the door again, "Alright Irving. Very funny. It was a good trick, you can let me out now." And then your dead…
His disguised command was met with silence and Guy leaned his forehead against the wooden door. He gave his scull a small thump against the object obstructing his way to freedom, before calling his cousin's name one last time. Jerking his head into an upright position at the hint of an answer, Guy waited for his cousin to speak.
"Guy, are you ready for the rest of the initiation?" Guy could picture Irving leering through the door.
Guy shoved his shoulder against the door, "Yes, let me out! Get on with it!"
"If you say so," Irving called, his voice close.
Nothing happened, and Guy waited impatiently for his cousin to release him. About five more minutes passed seeming as long as the dust had been there. Guy was about to call for Irving again when he heard a slight crackling sound. He pressed his ear to the door, in order to hear better. It wasn't what he heard but what he felt that frightened him. Heat…
"Irving! Irving! Where are you? Let me out!" Guy looked around frantically, searching for any exit. "There's fire in here Irving!" Guy called helplessly. He stayed by the door as long as he could, before the flames started to lick in through the cracks. He scrambled towards the back of the barn.
With the dilapidated barn in such bad shape, it didn't take long till the entire door was engulfed in red and orange. In spite of the growing deafening roar of the fire, Guy could hear Irving, "Get the buckets! Hurry! It shouldn't be moving that fast!" Guy watched in horror as the fire raced up the ceiling and onto the rafter, racing over to the other side of the dry rotting barn. In-between the flames leapt to the failing roof swallowing it up.
Guy could hardly breath from the suffocating smoke and he felt like the air was being ripped from his lungs. The smoke swirled around his head, making his vision blur. It was a miracle that Guy could see the rafter come crashing down. It almost knocked his head off before it connected with the floor, not to mention roasting him alive.
Picking himself up off of the ground, all Guy Crispin could see was fire - the entire barn having been veiled by the flames. Roof pieces fell around Guy, one hitting him upon the shoulder. The pain was incredible, and Guy slapped at his burning shirt - singeing his hand in the process. He yelped at the pain, all the more so when another section fell atop his back.
That one was harder to put out than the last, and Guy began to envision himself enveloped by the flames. He shuddered at the thought of his death and looked again for anyway to escape. The smoke clouded his sight and made him cough deeply, with no air attempting to reenter his burning throat.
Suddenly, the remaining portion of the rafter collapsed - smacking Guy to the dirt. Pushing his shoulders backwards, Guy heaved the burning wood off him. He rolled to his back, even though the sting was something to be venerated, and put out the remaining sparks clinging to his shirt.
He flipped over on his stomach again, his hands sprawled out in front of him. There was nothing more to do, Guy understood. Why fight the flames? It would be far easier to let the smoke overtake him…
Withdrawing his hands back to himself, Guy's fingers brushed up against a wooden ring - a door. His senses recollected themselves and told him that it was indeed a door - a trap door to be precise, down to where the pigs had been kept. Quickly, Guy yanked up on the handle - it wouldn't budge. He tried again without success. Guy gave the ring one last tug, putting all the strength he had into it, and the door flew open.
Ignoring the stench of old muck and filth, Guy dropped down into the hole, pulling shut the door behind him. He was knee deep in slop, but the fact that he was alive and with God's help he could breath regardless of the stench - was enough to outweigh that minor detail.
Walking briskly, Lady Ghislaine went down the path. She carried a small basket that she had filled with several tarts. Ghislaine was under the guise of joining her sister-in-law, Claudia, for tea. She was actually there to check up on Guy, well aware that Irving could be rather rough.
Instantly, the billowing smoke startled her. Instead of passing it off as the burning of scrap wood or a spit set up outside, Ghislaine's mind immediately screamed danger. She sprinted down the rest of the path, feeling her heart sink as the smoke got thicker. The sight of the barn, lit up, almost made her wretch. Dropping the basket to the ground she ran straight for the sight, noticing the crowed that had gathered.
Ghislaine grabbed Irving by the shoulders and spun him to face her. "Where is Guy?" she said, giving him a shake. "Where is your cousin?"
Irving looked frightened out of his wits, but she did not care - what she did care about was Guy. Her own shoulders felt arrested, and she turned to face Beaumont - her husband's younger brother. "Where is Guy?" Ghislaine said, the smoke choking her words. Her stomach tightened when she saw Beaumont's eyes drift towards the enflamed barn.
"No! Let me go! Permettez-moi de cet instant!" Ghislaine cried, to no avail - Beaumont's grip was tighter than the stocks. He had good reason though, he would already have to explain one new grave to his brother - he didn't want to explain two.
Guy had finally been overcome by the thick smoke and had passed out. Being in the sty did have several benefits to it, like being away from the fire and that the smoke probably wouldn't kill him all the way down there. Guy had no notion that his Uncle had arrived upon the seen or his Mother, blissful sleep having taken over his foggy mind. He slept through the act of dowsing the fire into oblivion, not that the barn was worth saving.
It was only when he heard his Mother's pain filled calls that Guy stirred. Groggily, Guy lifted his heavy eye lids and tried to call out a response. His voice cracked, and that was about it. He continued to try though, because the sound of tears in his Mother's voice was too much for him to bear. Guy finally managed to hack out the words, "Here! I'm here!"
Ghislaine did not hear her son's answer, and so she buried her face into her hands an wept bitterly. Tugging her shoulder away from the comforting hand that her brother-in-law attempted to lay upon her, Ghislaine called for her son again. Beaumont looked sick himself, not wholly at his nephew's sudden demise but at what he was going to tell Lord Roger, his brother, about it. He had already explained that Irving was just fooling when the accident occurred, Ghislaine had not taken kindly to that bit of news.
Voice still raspy, Guy called out again, "Mother!"
Outside, Ghislaine felt her breath catch - had she heard right? "Guy!" She raced to the remnants of the barn and looked hysterically about her, "Guy!" Nothing, she didn't see anything and Beaumont telling her that she was hearing things did not help her peace of mind. The last shred of hope slipped through her fingers like her boy just had - gone. Until…
She could barely hear it above her own sobs, but Ghislaine heard a faint tapping sound coming directly under her. Peeking down she saw the door that led to the underground sty. Ghislaine dropped to her knees and pulled up on the handle. The door popped open and there stood a slightly singed, worse for wear, and shaky Guy Crispin.
She snatched the dazed eleven year old to her, surprised at how willingly he entered her embrace. Ghislaine began to cry all the harder, while Beaumont and the other onlookers stared in shock.
Guy wiggled out of his Mother's grasp to look her in the eye, "I'm alive… So why are you still crying? Did you not want me to be?" Guy was startled when she gripped him tighter and bawled into his sooty smoky hair. As a result of the smoke inhalation, his mind was fuzzy and he didn't quite know what the matter was.
Guy was even more distressed when his Mother began to walk, dragging him along after her. Several breath-full's of clear unpolluted air began to clear Guy's head. He looked at the barn, which by anyone's standards was dead. It was only then that he could comprehend that he had come so close to being considered that way as well. Guy's anger bubbled up and he turned swiftly when Irving called after him. But it was not Guy's voice that spoke - Ghislaine had turned also. She grabbed a hold of Guy again and spoke severely to her nephew, "Not now Irving! You about got Guy killed. Whatever you have to say can wait. Comprenez-vous?"
Without another word, Mother and son made their way back to their manor. Ghislaine shoved the door open and motioned for Guy to stand and wait for her. He obliged, rather sheepishly - he had yet to explain what he was doing in the barn in the first place. Guy's Mother touched his dirty cheek tenderly, "I will have the servants draw a bath, Guy. And, I will get some salve for your burns. I can see several, you will have to tell me if there are anymore. Alright? I will be back in a moment, stay there."
Guy stood there, suddenly remembering the pain that his young body was in as a result of the fire inflicted wounds. He fingered the burn upon his shoulder, but the sting caused his hand to recoil promptly. He had another thing to add to his distress and groaned inwardly when his younger sibling, Isabella approached. "Well, aren't you a mess," it was more of a statement than a question and Guy tried to ignore her.
Isabella smiled audaciously, "You look like a pig. You smell like a pig." She put her fingers to her noise in a disgusted way, "So that only means one thing. Any guesses Guy?"
Guy paused and then the look of anger fell away to reveal a smirk, "I suppose that, it must mean I have been spending too much time around you."
A/N I am so excited! Not too long ago I got my own Little Guy action figure in the mail! So he was sitting with me, while I typed most of this, correcting his characterization and saying things like: 'I wouldn't do anything like that! I'm a perfect angle,' *smiles sweetly*
To which I reply, 'Oh, yah? What about this morning when you thought it would be a good idea to use my coffee cup as a Jacuzzi?'
Any-who, this is part of my AU. I do not own Robin Hood BBC. I only own my OC s and even they are getting tired of being manipulated by me…
Mon fils - My son
Allez. Va jouer. Amusez-vous. - Go. Go and play. Have fun.
Permettez-moi de cet instant! - Let me go this instant!
Comprenez-vous - Do you understand?