Marton and Family. My Kingdom For a Shirt. [Part 4]. Marton plays model.

[palacechristian]

The Emperor's New Clothes

Marton trudged down the hallway with Vin, as always, three paces behind. He wasn’t actually trudging, he just felt as if he were. It had been another long, difficult day, not helped by his state of mind and he was late getting in as well. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to change into something comfortable and put his feet up in front of the vid screen for a couple of hours. He’d missed dinner as well, but there was bound to be something around worth eating.

Vin paced silently behind him, although why he was still there, Marton couldn’t have said and he was too tired to turn around and ask.

He opened the door to the family living area and stopped dead, unsure if he was in the right room or not. A couple of racks of clothes were lined up where the vid screen usually was and the door to the old storeroom was open, the lights inside shining. Not only that but it seemed as if every family member had turned up this evening. Christian was sitting next to Craig and David on the sofa and chatting, with Harry looking comfortably smug seated on the other couch, listening to their conversation. Orlando was standing next to the racks talking to Anna and gesticulating wildly as he sought to make a point about something.

When he opened the door, they all fell silent and turned their heads, looking at him expectantly. Oh no. This wasn’t what he thought it was, was it? Of course it was; it could be nothing else. He suppressed a sigh and smiled instead, moving further into the room and hearing Vin shut the door behind him. Well, escape was out of the question now. Thanks Vin, he thought with resigned good humor.

“Evening.” he nodded toward the display, sticking his hands into his pockets. “What’s all this then?”

“Your wardrobe, Your Majesty.” It was Orlando who answered, stepping forward smoothly with a big smile on his face and executing a perfectly calculated and graceful bow.

“I see that.” Marton smiled. “Why is it out here?”

“Two words, Father.” Anna came to stand by Orlando’s side. “’Fashion’ and ‘parade’.” she said. “We have the fashion,” she swept a hand over the racks. “the parade,” the hand gestured to the cleared space in front of the closet door. “and now we have the model.” She pointed at him.

Marton couldn’t help it when his smile grew wider. They looked so eager, so pleased with themselves, the two of them, that he had no choice but to grin back at them. Vin moved past him and went to stand behind Christian on the sofa, his arms folded across his chest and an expectant look on his face.

“Et tu, Brute.” Marton raised an eyebrow at him as he mangled the quote. Vin simply grinned at him. He looked at Christian, not even bothering to seek support for his urge to run. “Where’s Scarlett?” he asked. “I thought he of all people would be here for this.”

“Christian shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.” he said.

Harry chimed in. “I saw him earlier. Downstairs, with a mean little dog under his arm.” he said.

“Fou-Fou.” Marton said.

Harry shot him a look. “Bless you?” he queried.

Christian, David and Craig all started to laugh and he could hear Orlando and Anna giggling behind him. “You didn’t?” Christian chuckled.

“I most certainly did.” Marton told him. “He asked for it.” He turned to the rack of clothes and approached them. No point putting it off, the sooner he gave in and showed some modicum of interest, the sooner he’d get his whisky and a comfortable chair.

“So,” he said to Orlando and Anna. “Show me what you have.”

Orlando moved first, an open-armed gesture sweeping toward the display like a professional shop assistant. “Step this way, Sire.” he invited.

Marton walked over to the closest, and brightest, of the racks. Dear God, what were they?! He eyed the set of what appeared to be shirts straight from someone’s most lurid and eye-popping fantasy with some, no, make that a lot, of trepidation. He touched the fabric of the closest one as if it might bite him.

It was a neon blue concoction with a white band at the bottom, centered over a row of garish strawberries. Right next to it was a shirt of similar style, only white, with a row of pastel carousel horses instead of strawberries and next to that was yet another, this time in caramel and white with tennis balls of the comic book variety bouncing erratically around the seam.

There was another that looked to be plainer, dark green and with no visible additions but the final shirt was the killer. It was black with red flames erupting from the bottom of it and the fire had little red devils with horns and tridents capering about in it.

“Umm.”

“Not your thing, Father?” Anna said with studied innocence, poking Orlando. “See? Told you so.” She took Marton by the arm and lead him past the offending items. “Don’t worry, Father, these are much nicer. I picked them out. Why don’t you try them on?” She reached out and plucked a dark blue shirt and black trousers from the rack.

Here we go, thought Marton. The King as clothes-horse. . .

One hour and what seemed like several thousand changes of clothes later, Marton was truly exhausted. But it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it was going to be. The trying-on part was tedious, but the actual clothes weren’t half bad. Mind you, he thought as he changed yet again, after those shirts I saw first, anything would look good.

His hand stopped moving while he considered this new notion and a smile curved the corners of his mouth. Like that was it? Well, he’d get his own back sooner or later. He went back to tugging on the trousers, which were another dark pair, but incredibly soft and supple. He looked down. Oh my! Leather? He wasn’t at all sure about the idea of leather pants but the actual trousers certainly felt good. He finished putting them on, added the top that Orlando had given him and had a look in the mirror someone had thoughtfully provided.

Damned if they didn’t look quite nice, actually. Comfortable and . . . well, stylish! I like these, he thought, checking out the rear view. A cough alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone.

“Vin!” He felt his face flush with embarrassment at being caught.

“They sent me in to see what’s taking so long.” Vin said ruefully. He might have been apologizing but his eyes were roving! Marton blushed even harder. Stop that, you idiot, he chastised himself!

“They’re a bit . . .” He looked down at himself, lost for a word to describe them. He liked them, but it still didn’t mean they were suitable to wear. His eyes came up to Vin’s face, searching for any sign of amusement or even dismay. They found none.

“They’re great.” Vin enthused, his eyebrow quirking. “Totally hot.”

“Totally what?” The question got lost in the loud shout from the other room, calling for him to come out and ‘show us’. Marton shrugged and grinned instead. “My audience is so demanding.”

He stepped back out into the living room to another chorus of whistles and catcalls. Getting into the spirit of the evening finally, he did a quick twirl, bowed and then held his hands up for silence.

“This is the grand finale.” he said. Everyone groaned. “I’m so sorry to disappoint.” he chuckled. “But it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.” He turned to Orlando and Anna and folded them into a quick embrace. “Thank you,” he said. “for all the trouble you went to. I’m amazed by how few pieces made the reject list.” He indicated the rack off to one side with the few items of clothing he’d either declined outright or which hadn’t fitted. “And I’ll keep these.” he finished, looking down at the leathers. Another chorus of amused approval greeted the announcement and he let them go this time, his eyes wandering over to the reject rack again while he waited for the mini-tumult to die down.

When it finally did, he sauntered across to the rack, mischief gleaming from his eyes. Retrieving the lurid shirts from their repository, he strolled back to the group as he flicked through them.

“You went to so much trouble,” he said. “and were such a good audience that I feel I should reward you.” His head came up, a devilish smile tugging at his mouth. He picked out a shirt and threw it at Orlando.

“Here son,” he grinned as the caramel shirt with the bouncing balls landed in Orlando’s arms. “this one just screams you.”

Anna began to chuckle, but soon stopped when the red devil shirt hit her full in the face. “And you, Madame!” Marton laughed. “This is right up your alley.”

He threw the other shirts as well; the carousel horses to Christian and the strawberry shirt to Harry, a choice which made Orlando blush! Marton cut Harry a knowing wink and turned away from the surprised look on the man’s face to say to David and Craig, “Sorry gentlemen, you’re all out of luck.”

The two of them were quick to reassure him that they didn’t really mind missing out and as Marton was laughing at their speedy disclaimers, he noticed Vin trying valiantly to hide a smile. Marton caught his gaze and held it.

“This one’s for you.” he said, throwing the green shirt over the couch. Vin caught it and held it up, starting to laugh out loud when he finally spotted the breast pocket.

“What is it, Vin?” Christian asked.

Vin turned it around so they could see, pointing to the single word printed on the material. ‘Cheeky’, it read.

The King's Leathers