"Closer, my darling"

Authors Note: (Not like you read these anyways, I certainly don't most times.) My, my, everyone. I find myself absolutely appalled at the lack of Reaver/Princess stories are on here. I myself recently acquired a new copy of 'Fable III', and found myself newly infatuated with the man known as 'Reaver'. I incessantly mourn the fact that you cannot marry Reaver in the game, and thus, my imagination took flight. I assure you, all violent trespasses would be easily forgiven. Hence, we have Fanfiction, where fantasy is brought to life, for as many or as few viewers as would please you. I must warn you, I have a severely depraved mind, and this story may come off as such. I would so love the input of the readers, I assure you. I shall try and spare you the majority of my dementia. This story is rated M, as I myself tend to find Rated M stories more well written and detailed to my distinct liking, and less "OC" and "fluff", if you will. I shall indeed try to keep to Reavers' original demeanor, and any changes I hope shall have a decent reason behind them. Also bear in mind that the lore behind the entire thing may or may not be 'on a whim', I have not yet recently had a chance to get my hands on a copy of 'Fable II' in quite a long while, however, I did try to do some mandatory research. I apologize for the long note, yet this story is for my own satisfaction to put my own fantasy out there. I should hope you all find pleasure in it as well.
Also, please try to bear in mind that anything in this story is likely to change. I like to think of it as a rough draft, and I welcome any input you may have. I promise I won't have you shot and left on the side of the road, as much as that may please our dear Reaver.

(AU on a later date: I HATE this chapter. Hate it. Fucking hate it. I seriously cannot even fathom the depths of my hatred for this piece. I re-read it, and it's just terrible. I wasn't lying about being rusty. It's clunky and almost disorganized. Unfortunately, I don't have the patience to re-write it all. Hang in there, folks. It gets better... sort of.)

"Veil of a Queen, tying the hands of a king,

In the name of the species, under the silks,

let the games begin..."

"I present, her Majesty Seraphina, Queen of Albion and savior of the realm." The authoritative voice of her herald echoed off the wooded castle walls as she turned the corner into the royal throne room. Once she was within sight of the small gathering of subjects, the commoners and beggars alike cried her praises behind the velveteen rope that separated the minor crowd from the pathway to the throne. Her face flushed a deep crimson as she entered the grandeur throne room, heat flushing up through her face and into her cheeks. She couldn't bring herself to look directly at the faces of her dirtied and work-hardened subjects while she graced herself upon a fine red carpet bearing an overly-expensive royal armored gown and formal ostentatious jewelry. She had walked this path far too many times than she cared to count over the past year, each time leaving with a strange sense of dissatisfaction.

At first, she felt intense inner conflict over comfort and happiness of Albion's population versus a future for the kingdom and the safety of the people. The people of Albion had cried for change once she had usurped the throne from her elder brother Logan, and she had done her absolute best to oblige them without risking their own lives. She had spared only the most trivial of expenses while attempting to satisfy the people and their appeals, balancing the kindness of her heart and the overwhelming sense of protection that she was obligated to provide them. The people of Albion couldn't comprehend the severe danger they had been facing, as Walter had once stated that you could not understand the threat the darkness posed without first living through it. She refused to play the role of a tyrant like her brother before her, yet she needed to enforce strict guidelines to ensure the well being of the land. The treasury could not be spent leisurely, however, she needed to ensure that the people entrusted themselves to her and and sat well with their welfare and happiness in her hands. This had exhausted the fair Queen, constantly balancing charity and benevolence.

Thank the gods, her hours upon hours of heavy deliberation had come to fruition. The Darkness had been defeated and vanquished into oblivion, and the realm remained safe from the Crawler. Yet the people's satisfaction had not come without a cost. The gold that had been spent satisfying their lamentations had not come without a debt paid in blood. Their armory had suffered losses when quarters needed to be rebuilt or orphanages needed re-staffing, yet she could not bring herself to leave her people homeless or turn the home of so many destitute children into a bordello. She had tried her hardest to make sure their utmost of needs were met, and when the cries of the people were left unanswered, she made her best attempt at justifying her choices. Yet they did not seem to understand until the darkness was at their doorstep all the able bodied men readied themselves for battle. Impending doom was quite a difficult situation to understand until it surrounded you. In the end, all her decisions and sleepless nights had paid off, and the Darkness was abolished.

However, it seemed that the needs of her subjects were never ending. It had been mere months since the final battle had been executed and her land and people defended that a rally of new petitions had found their way into her court. The duties of a Monarch were unending, as her brother had once warned her. She now understood the darkened lavender circles under his eyes, and the dark, hollowed gleam to his eyes. It was indeed absolutely exhausting, and to a point, unnerving. She had no doubt that she looked quite similar to he did the last few day that he held the throne for his own. She could feel her own swollen eyelids dragging themselves down with the weight of sleepless nights and the kingdom itself, and her darkened ice blue eyes reddened from awakening far before her body deemed itself ready. Her shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight as she climbed the endless steps to her golden throne, as though she was carrying the fate of all of Albion and all its people on her shoulders. But no matter how much stress she was under, she would never allow the people to see through her iron mask, so she put on an amiable face as she faced her subjects, ready to hear their graciousness and their complaints.

Court had always consisted of rules and regulations, and at the present moment, the Queen was unbelievably thankful for this. Her petitioner and their supporters, likely once again consisting of Page, were always punctual if not early and eager to plead their cause. Their opposition, however, was not. The former always consisted of the business tycoon and industrial mad-hound Reaver. Queen Seraphina had of course become quite accustomed to the fact that he wished to arrive at court on his own time, and refused to be dictated by the "needs and squabbles of lowly peasants", as he so endearingly put it. He was polite enough to never quite be late, yet he made it a point to never be early. He made it quite clear he came on his own time, and not the time of others, especially those he deemed unworthy of his presence. This seemed to severely vex Page as she stood with her hands crossed over her elbows, drumming her fingers impatiently as she sent occasional impatient glances at the door.

The Queen breathed a heavy sign, lightly massaging her temples with her fingertips as she glanced over at Page. Today, as was usual with all days that she found herself in the Queen's court, Page meant business. Her brow was furrowed, a slight twitch echoing in her features. The look in her eye was deadly, not unlike a balverine before an attack. The speckled revolutionist tapped her fingertips to a silent beat as she glanced ardently around the room, awaiting Reaver's inevitable arrival. The Queen could feel her own heartbeat pulse rapidly in her chest, fighting off a mild panic attack before the two mini-monarchs went toe to toe before her.

Page was a queen in her own right, queen to the poor, defender of the weak and hero of the working man. However, so was Reaver. King of industry, deflater of the impoverished and by all rights, maker of the treasury. It was only through Reaver that the Queen had been able to raise enough of a hoard of gold to fight off the danger looming over Albion, yet it was through Page that she had been able to put together enough of an organized rebellion to overthrow her maddened brother King Logan. She sat at an impasse, an uncomfortable rock versus a terribly hard place. She absolutely detested Reaver in all rights and forms, yet she owed him a debt of an entire nation, while she admired Page and her courage and strength while having to fight her own weakness for charity which tended to hemorrhage funds that the crown needed.

She could feel a headache coming on, and prayed that this petition would be of little matter. Something that she could reject or accept with little consequence either way. She glanced out the throne room windows, checking the position of the sun. It was getting late, there was no doubt about it. The blue sky was starting to show slight hints of orange as the sun began to descend. In a matter of minutes, she could easily dismiss court due to lack of opponent and retire to her rooms. She found herself praying that Reaver had been struck by bandits along the road to Bowerstone from Millfield, so that she may continue this 'consultation' another day.

It was wishful thinking, but nothing more than that. Reaver may be a plush businessman, yet he seemed quite talented with that Dragonstomper .48. The finest money could buy and one of only a few ever made, he assured her once. Even if he had been struck with the misfortune of a bandit attack, she knew it would take him mere minutes to dispatch of all the attackers. At most, he would be a few minutes late, and that was with the most well thought out and executed of attacks. It was with this knowledge that bit her lips nervously and lightly rubbed her fingertips into her temples, attempting to fight off the inevitable headache that seemed to pound its way into her mind.

As if on cue, the double oak doors burst open enthusiastically. Even through the crowd, she could spot the characteristically large ebony top hat on the head of a man who already practically towered over everyone else, enforcing his already well known superiority complex. He threw his arms out to his sides theatrically as if to allow the masses to bask in his very presence and beheld a triumphant grin as he addressed the Queen.

"Your Majesty, I must deeply apologize for my tardiness. I fear my carriage driver has not quite become accustomed to his job of getting places punctually. I assure you this trespass has been severely dealt with." He said, exaggerating every syllable with a wicked grin. She eyed the pistol strapped flamboyantly to his side, and felt pity for whomever his driver was for the day. She had no doubt he was severely maimed, if not laying dead on the side of the road. Reaver seemed the type to bring a spare servant everywhere he went rather than do anything he deemed 'menial' for himself, so no doubt he had not driven himself here and ran no risk being seen doing any sort of manual labor if he killed a servant or two.

Reaver began to make his way toward her, customarily taking the red carpet path, his long ivory-panted legs taking large, dramatic strides. She noticed her crown seemed ten pounds heavier than it did a mere few minutes ago. He stopped just short of the steps to the throne and bowed before her ever so slightly, his mischievously gleaming amber eyes meeting her own cyan ones through his heavily arched black eyebrows. His trademark smirk plastered on his face, he rose and took his self-appointed place just to the left of the staircase leading to her throne where he stood tall and proud, both hands gripping the handle of his cane. Only when he had properly adjusted himself did he acknowledge the Queen staring at him impatiently, and the rest of the court glaring with her. A slight fox-like smile formed on his lips as he turned to her.

"I'm terribly sorry if I gave the impression that I was not ready, my dear." The guards shifted at his informal speech with the Queen, although it was more for appearances than anything else. Even in this court, Reaver was untouchable. "I was simply attempting to appear proper for Her Majesty. Such bad taste to slouch and drag in the presence of such radiance. I do wish your petitioner would do the same. I would certainly be willing to wait." He shot a small glare at Page, who sniveled in response. "Absolutely, do continue, your Highness. I am just aching to hear the pleas of the people this morning."

The Queen rolled her eyes at his faux politeness and rested her hand on her palm as she turned to the crowd. Pages eyes lit up at her opportunity to speak, and she looked for the confirmation to speak. The Queen nodded, and tried to stay as attentive as possible.

"Your Majesty, we've gathered at the court today to ask your favor. We have matters that have risen to the utmost importance and can only be resolved by the crown."

The queen stifled an urge to roll her eyes again. Everything was of the 'utmost importance' to Page. She had been coming in here with petitions and expensive proposals once a week for nigh on a year now. The Queen appreciated the cause, but the crown was not equipped with an endless treasury, and this was something Page didn't seem to quite grasp. When Page looked at Bowerstone, she saw endless supplies of gold and wealth instead of what it truly was, purely a status symbol. The only person in the room with enough money to fulfill all of her wasteful propositions and more using nothing more than what could be considered to him mere pocket change was the most unwilling and laughably uncharitable person in the room. The grandiose businessman to her left could easily renovate all of Albion and still live in luxury, yet he preferred to sit on his gold and instead use it to further his own interests. As selfish as it might be, it wasn't the Queen's place to say anything. It was by all rights his gold, and he could spend it as he wished. It simply frustrated her that while the royal treasury remained consistently empty, he could probably buy the crown off her head using nothing but the gold on his person at the present moment.

"Page, as delighted as I am to see you in this court, you do of course realize that the status of things have not changed? I have had to deny your past few propositions due to no pleasure of my own, but instead a lack of funds. The battle took a great toll on the royal treasury and I physically cannot make renovations that we cannot pay for, and it will take time to replenish our sources." The Queen stated pointedly.

'A long time, the way we're going...' She added in her head. Yet Page remained unpersuaded, and Seraphina knew that she would continue to push the matter.

"Your Majesty, these are just a few small changes that would greatly improve the lives of your citizens. Small things like longer patrol routes to help secure your citizen's safety, and perhaps rebuilding of the more traveled roads to ease things for dwellers and traveling merchants." She pleaded with the Queen. "These are subtle changes that I believe could greatly improve the life of citizens of Albion, and all people who reside here."

While her speech was passionate and persuasive, the Queen resisted the urge to groan. Page knew little of finances and how they were run in the Kingdom. These 'small' changes would cost well over several hundred thousand gold to make, and that was gold she simply didn't have to spare right now.

"Page, as noble as your cause is, and as much as I wish I could make these changes for you, I simply cannot. We do not have the funds for such changes quite yet, although I assure you when the Kingdom has the funds, these shall be of the utmost importance." The Queen bit her lip, Page's disappointment plastered all over her face. Seraphina could tell that she wasn't simply going to drop the matter and that she would instead continue to push it. She decided to give her a taste of the tough decision making process.

"The guard routes that you suggest are more expensive than you believe. I will have to pay several men overtime, and so not to break the labor laws I have put in place, I shall also have to hire more men. More men means more combat training, weapons, and armor. We shall also likely have to build new housing quarters for the men as well, as the roads are perilous and long. The roads that you wish to renovate shall also take men to renovate them, not to mention supplies and temporary housing quarters for them while they should do the task. I suppose the workers would also like to eat? Well, there's sustenance costs as well. Not to mention affording new guards for the temporary roads that travelers will use while the new ones are being worked upon. All of this is not counting any unfortunate circumstances, including bandit attacks and rabid animals and losses at our expense at their hands." Her lips were tight with remorse, but she stood strong in her conviction. Page looked disheartened, but understanding. Much to her dismay, she could feel Reaver positively beaming next to her, obviously reveling in his success without having to even so much as open his mouth.

"I.. I understand, your Majesty. Perhaps when the treasury is a tad more filled, these changes can come to pass." Page let out a heavy sigh. "Thank you for hearing our plight. I trust your judgment." She graced the floor with a low curtsy. The Queen nodded her head in acknowledgment, but was yet again distracted with Reaver looking far too pleased with himself. His Cheshire grin proof that he took far too much pleasure in the suffering of her people.

"Reaver, I do know how you so love the sound of your own voice, perhaps you have input?" The Queen looked over at him, beyond antagonized. He simply turned to her bearing his unmistakable simper, his aurous eyes showing no signs of pity.

"Oh, your Majesty, is there anyone who does not?" He sent a flirtatious wink to an unknown noblewoman standing in the room, who she had no doubt he had most likely held company with a few nights prior. "I could not have made the decision better myself. These expenses simply could not be helped. There is no money to be spent on such frivolities as extra guards and roads." He made a point to brush his hands against his fine trimmed fur and ivory coat, sending a sideways smirk at Page as he did so. "Why, if people are so concerned with safety, why don't they learn to defend themselves?"

'Avo have mercy,' Seraphina slapped her forehead against her palm. 'of course, he had to open his gigantic mouth.' Just as she expected, Page's eyes lit up, burning with a fire that couldn't be mistaken for anything except contempt. If Page had the change to speak, the pairs tennis match of insults would drag this court session for hours. Page opened her mouth to speak, the Queen interrupted with a comment of her own.

"I suppose it was, of course, too much for me to expect from you to simply agree with my decision? Oh, foolish me. How did I ever forget that you always have to have the final word? After all, how could this court ever continue to function without your priceless input." Her every word heavy with sarcasm. The Queen once again rubbed her temples, her annoyance reaching a peak. She wanted nothing more than to be in her chambers, in a hot bath, forgetting about all these incessant royal obligations. Reaver put on a faux pout, but his trade marked smirk was unmistakable beneath it.

"My, your Majesty! I do apologize!" His voice had a dramatic flair as he placed his hand over his heart. "I did not mean to offend. I only want what is best for this kingdom and of course, yourself. I agree with your decision whole heartedly." He bowed once again to her, his arms gracefully lengthening up his side. He turned then to Page, who stared angrily at him, her hands defiantly resting on her hips. "I'm so terribly sorry, little surmulot, but her Majesty has reached a decision and I do believe that it is final. I also believe that this court session is successfully adjourned! Tatty-bye! All of you." He waved his free hand dismissively at the court, but most notably, Page. Page gritted her teeth, but turned toward the door along with the rest of the court. As everyone flocked toward the door, the Queen was clenching her own teeth, annoyed beyond reprieve. She exhaled loudly, almost certain that flames would shoot from her nostrils.

"Reaver, it is not for you to dismiss the court, neither is it your authority." She spat with a sharp edge to her voice, although she couldn't say with truth that she was entirely angry that he had.

"Oh dear, I do seem to be making fumbles all over the place today! I'm so terribly sorry, my sweet. Old habits die so terribly hard." His voice feigned regret, but she knew better.

"I am not your 'sweet', I am your Queen. Not one of your paid courtesans to be dismissed so casually, and you shall address me as proper station requires." The Queen's fierce eyes met his. Much to her irritation, he showed no signs of any emotion at all. His face only had his ever-present smile.

"Of course, your Majesty! A woman of your position deserves only the utmost respect! Perhaps I could be allowed to make up for my various missteps." This sounded much more of a statement than a request. "I could not help but notice that your coronation was never properly celebrated, and as you know, I myself love a nice little get together. The court was much too busy preparing for that war of theirs. Such a travesty, if you ask me. Why, your brother Logan's celebration was rather extravagant. It was quite a pleasure." He placed his hand to his chin thoughtfully, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "I see no reason why your own party should not be the same." He looked down at her, cocking his head playfully to the side.

"You know well the answer to this, Reaver. How is it that I can turn away my people due to lack of funds, yet throw my own extravagant party in the same breath? There is simply no room in the budget, and there are more important matters at hand to use the funds that remain." She knew she was wasting her breath attempting to explain this concept to him. The man didn't know the meaning of the phrase 'lack of funds', nor did he particularly care for it.

"Your Highness, I have indeed taken note of the struggles of the court. It pains me to see you suffer so. Which is why I insist that this party be held entirely on my account." He held his chin high, seeming rather pleased with himself. "Do not fret dear, I shall take care of this occasion entirely."

This caught the Queen slightly off guard, yet she remained acutely aware that there was an ulterior motive to everything that Reaver did.

"You do realize that I have not forgotten the last party of yours that I was an unfortunate attendee at? If I recall properly, you did indeed attempt to have me killed, along with my friend and allies, and succeeded to a degree. The last thing I need is a repeat incident." Her voice was laced with bitterness. Reaver was essential to Albion's economy, so she had been forced to pardon him when she took the throne, but that did not mean she wanted any more interaction with the man than was absolutely necessary. He was a necessary evil, yet it sickened her that he tried to cozy up to her the moment she had a crown upon her head.

"Oh my dear, I do apologize for that incident. It was quite the mess, was it not? You were an enemy to the crown at the time, and I do swear my utmost loyalty to the crown. I only did as was my duty. You do, of course, understand that I am terribly apologetic for any.. mishaps that may have happened, whatever the casualties may have been. Do allow me to make these grievous trespasses up to you. I won't take no for an answer. I only aim to please, my dear." His voice was playful, yet had stern undertones. Only Reaver could minimize the deaths of her comrades while feeling no remorse or regret. She once again felt the urge to set him ablaze.

"Should you truly wish to please me, you should donate the funds that would sanction this party to the treasury instead. I could push Page's proposal through and perhaps do some good for the kingdom." She knew it was fruitless to suggest, yet the words escaped her mouth. Reaver would sooner melt down the gold and throw it into the lake than serve Page's purpose.

"Perhaps an agreement could be arranged?" Reaver once again placed his hands to his chin, as if thinking intensely. "Perhaps... Should you allow me to throw the ball in your honor, I could be persuaded to donate funds to the treasury. Both parties would win, yes?" His grin overextended his cheeks as he bore down on her. Reaver was a master of manipulation, and apparently that did extend to the Queen herself. He knew her weakness for her people, and was able to play it like a fiddle. She intensely disliked playing into one of his schemes, but should it serve her purpose and that of her subjects, it would seem selfish to say anything but yes. That did not, however, soothe her intense distrust of the man. She rose slowly from her throne, and turned to face him.

"I agree to this... 'offering' solely for the donation you offer me and the kingdom. Should I catch wind of any treachery or 'games' you have in store, I shall dispatch of you myself, and that is a monarchs' word." She slipped the small dagger she had holstered to her dress to his chest. Much to her irritation, he seemed to be more amused than threatened.

"My dear Queen, how very inappropriate of you! I dare say I enjoy your style!" He chuckled sinisterly. "You have my word, your Majesty, that this little soirée will be the utmost to your pleasure." He turned on his heel to leave, stopping short of the steps below her. "However.. I do have one simple request, if you will." He turned his head to meet her eyes as she lowered the knife. The dark smile that graced his features brought a feeling of dread into the pit of her stomach.

"What might that be?" She inquired, trying her hardest not to strangle the man that stood before her with her bare hands.

"You see, it is indeed traditional that the Queen be accompanied by the King to such an event. Yet, seeing as you have not yet chosen a suitor..." He paused momentarily. She really did not like where this was heading. "I find it only accustomed that you be accompanied by the man closest to the stature, and I myself find myself in lack of a worthy accompaniment. I would of course be most honored if you should accompany me." He extended his hand to hers, lowering his head slightly, yet never losing his smirk.

"I'm certain that you could find many other women more than willing to accompany you, Lord Reaver." She rejected his hand.

"Oh, but my Queen, I only accept the best, and you are, of course, the best. It would indeed be a shame if the treasury remained in such a menial state." His face donned a wicked grin and she felt her lip begin to twitch with malice as she took his hand.

"I will accompany you to the ball, Reaver. Assuming you hold up your end of the bargain which I am holding in the category. Not to do so would be treason against the crown. Subjecting your utmost loyalty to the crown, I assume you know what the punishment is?" Her voice was as cold as the pit of despair lurched heavily inside her stomach. She wanted as little as physically possible to do with this man, yet her kingdom needed the funds, and before her stood the richest man in all of Albion by far. If she needed to sacrifice a bit of personal comfort for the needs of her people.. then so be it. Especially if he was willing to throw around so much gold so freely. He held her hand loosely through his gloved fingers, the cold leather rubbing uncomfortably against her skin.

"Oh, I am absolutely delighted to hear that, your Majesty! I shall begin the arrangements right away. I shall contact you when I arrange our little gathering." He kneeled down and brought his mouth to her hand, once again his intimidating golden eyes staring up at her through his heavily lidded lashes as he kissed her hand. His mouth lingered a little too long on her skin before he finally released her and stood. She turned away from him, her mind heavy with her decision. She decided that at the very least, she would have the final word.

"One last thing, Reaver, if you will?" She looked him directly in the eyes doing her best to intimidate him. However, he had a way of making her feel like nothing more than a mere child as he towered over her by at least a foot, his narrowed auriferous eyes boring down into her own sapphire ones.

"Oh absolutely, my dearest monarch. Anything I can do to service you would be my absolute pleasure." He once again bowed lazily before her, his every movement dripping in arrogance.

"Get out. Now. Before I change my mind."