Authors Note: Okay, so this is my very first Fable story. I've had it bubbling about in my brain since beating Fable 3 and felt I just had to share :) I've planned several more chapters and the rating may, let me stress this, may change later on. This is Reaver we're talking about here (insert crazed fangirl laugh). Anyway, I'll give you plenty of warning if the rating does zip up, so no worries there. So, enough of me prating on at you. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Lionhead owns it all. *teardrop
In Which the Queen Receives A Surprising Invitation
The moon was just rising over the rooftop of the palace, bathing the garden and its statues in a pale, silver light. Wisps, floating on the light breeze, flitted to and fro between carefully manicured hedges and trees. The faint sounds of laughter and merriment could be heard, drifting over the stone walls that encircled the memorial gardens. It seemed that all of Bowerstone was celebrating tonight.
The Queen of Albion sighed softly, strumming the lute nestled in her lap. Leaning back against the cool marble of Walters' statue, she closed her eyes as the breeze tugged strains of golden hair from behind her ears. She sat, listening to the sounds of her people, their revelry bringing a small smile to her face.
It was exactly one year since she had won her great victory against the Crawler. One year since she had done what everyone, from the most impoverished beggar to the wealthiest noble, had thought impossible. She had saved her people. All of them. And she had done it without becoming a tyrant, as Logan had. It was worth celebrating, surely. In the taverns and inns, the people of Albion were raising their glasses to their beloved Queen, never wondering why the castle remained dark and silent on such an auspicious day.
One year. It had been one year since Walters death .
The smile faded from her face as her hand wandered along the strings, plucking out a slow, sorrowful melody. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered her mentor, her teacher and friend. He had been like a father to her. More so then the great Hero King from her childhood. The father she could barely recall. He had died just before her sixth birthday, and from that day forward, it had been Walter who had listened to her trials, dried her tears and taught her of the world. He had taught her the meaning of honor and responsibility. He had taught her how to fight for what she believed in.
She sat, letting long buried memories surface as she played. Closing her eyes again, she allowed her pain and sorrow to bleed into the music. Not even Jasper knew just how deep her grief ran. She had kept tight rein on her feelings for the last year, showing only serenity and peace to the world, knowing that every expression, every action, was scrutinized. Her pain was not for public consumption.
Sinking deeper into herself, so intent on honoring her fallen comrade, she did not immediately notice that she had gained an audience. She slowly became aware of the silence of the garden, the normal sounds of insects, the rustling of animals moving through the bushes, all had grown quiet. As she continued to play, she slit her eyes open, searching the darkness for the interloper. She could just make out a figure, hidden in the shadows against the side of a stone gazebo, some twenty paces away.
Well within my range.
Bringing her song to an end, she rose gracefully, using the lute to mask drawing her pistol. Faster then the eye could track, she aimed and fired, hitting the stone a scant two inches from the shadowy head.
"That was a warning shot. The next will be right between your eyes unless you show yourself. Now." Her voice was cold, rage seething just beneath the surface. One moment! She thought. One moment to mourn my dead in peace and I am not even allowed that!
The figure had raised its hands, stepping forward from the shadows. Just before the moonlight illuminated the intruder, the Queen recognized the telltale top hat and cane. "It would be you..." She growled under her breath.
His smirk grew wider as he caught her muttered words, and tipping his hat, he made an elegant bow. "Good evening, your Majesty!" He drawled. Replacing his hat as he straightened, he continued, arrogance and conceit dripping from every word. "Marvelous shot, my dear, very well done! Although, you have most certainly damaged that charming little structure." Waving his fingers to indicate the rather large chip in the stone from the bullets impact. The Queen could hear the mocking in his voice and something inside her snapped. She cocked the hammer of her pistol back, anger darkening her brown eyes.
"Would you prefer I damage you? What the hell are you doing in my garden, Reaver? I am in no mood for your games tonight." She spoke, voice quiet and absolutely deadly. Her temper, normally slow to burn, was well and truly lost, and she was utterly furious with him for this intrusion. Reavers' eyes widened slightly, the only indication that he had correctly read her emotional state. Clearing his throat hastily, he again raised his hands, making soothing motions.
"Now, now, your Majesty, no need for such violence. I merely came to inquire as to your health!" Gesturing with his cane to the deserted gardens and darkened castle, he sighed with false sincerity. "I am but a loyal subject, concerned for his Monarchs well being." What a load of tosh. The Queen snarled to herself. "You were spying on me." She stated, keeping her tone level. "I should blast you into Old Town." She aimed, centered right between his bright, emerald eyes. She glared at him, willing herself to take that last step, one little squeeze, hesitating.
Her arm was beginning to tire, a faint tremor starting along the barrel of the pistol. Growling, she eased off the trigger and holstered her weapon. "But as satisfying as that would be, I don't go about shooting people just because they annoy me." She whirled, lute still in hand and stalked away, heading for the relative safety of the castle. She rather doubted Reaver would shoot her in the back, but he was an unpredictable sort. If he decided to take issue, she wanted her sword handy.
"Oh I'm wounded, your Majesty, simply wounded!" The arrogant peacock had strode up behind her and matched her pace. "I, spy on you? Tut, tut, my dear! I was merely on my way up to the castle when I heard your delightful musical renderings and was drawn to the source. You play remarkable well, I must say."
"I am not your dear!" They had entered the castle by this point and were proceeding down the hallway to her study. Suddenly, the Queen whirled, facing Reaver, hands on her hips. "Why are you still here? I would think that bullet was enough of a hint to go away!" She poked him in his chest with a forefinger. "Don't you have some drunken orgy to get to or something? What is so damn important that it can't wait one day?" She all but screamed the last into his face.
Reaver cocked an elegant eyebrow, somewhat taken aback by this outburst. It was...unexpected. "My dear girl, I simply wished to give you this." And, depositing a large, cream-colored envelope into her hand, he turned and sauntered out without another word.
She stared after him, dumbfounded, then looked down at the envelope. Written across the front in Reavers' large, curving hand was her name. She carried it into her study, snatching a letter opener from her desk as she passed. Flinging herself into her favorite chair, right before the fire, she carefully rested the lute against its side, away from the flames. Muttering under her breath about the nerve of pompous ex-pirate kings, she slit the envelope open and removed two sheets of paper.
The first was a invitation. Embossed in gold leaf and scarlet, it stated that, in honor of his new mansion overlooking the charming city of Aurora, Reaver was throwing a grande fête and he humbly requested the presence of her Majesty as his "Guest of Honor." The Queen snorted upon reading that, doubting very greatly that Reaver knew the meaning of the word "humble." Tossing the invitation aside, she moved on to the smaller page. It was written in the same hand as the envelope and read:
My Dear Ilona
Do come to my little party, it will be such an absolute bore if you don't.
I promise, it won't be a repetition of the last time, cross my heart and all that.
I have quite a surprise planned and you simply must be there.
~R~
Oh, and a few of your fathers old acquaintances will be in attendance.
Surely you would not disappoint them by refusing, would you?
The Queen read the note a second time. Reaching again for the invitation, she reread that as well. "What's he playing at?" She murmured softly to herself. A slight frown creased her forehead, and, between one breath and the next, she phased to Sanctuary.