AN: Yo folks, so I know I haven't finished my last story, and just know that hopefully I will work on it, but this is more of a fresh start. I wanted to work on some areas of writing that make me uncomfortable to help expand and grow as a writer, so this is my attempt at that. I haven't really decided if there will be a happy ending here, or exactly what is going to happen.

This story is darker than my others, and can be considered dark!Reaver. Even though Reaver is already a dark character within himself, there's many things that Lionhead leaves to the imagination, and I intend to expand on it here. I guess you could consider him more true to his dark nature and selfish desires than in my other stories.

A Faustian Bargain

Chapter One: A deal with the devil

"Well, I must say, you've made me out to be a somewhat poor host." Reaver cocked his head to the side, tutting facetiously. He placed a slick, gloved hand dramatically on his waist, the other wrapped tightly around his gaudy, golden cane, tapping it lightly on the ground for emphasis. "Rather rude of you to dispose of all my guests."

Righteous anger seethed from Page as she raised her gun, aiming down the sites onto the man above her. "Now it's your turn, Reaver."

Without hesitation, she pulled down on the trigger, sending a bullet rocketing towards the masked mogul's forehead. A small smile began forming on her face, yet before she could so much as exhale, Reaver unflinchingly raised his cane in defense,sending the discarded bullet falling to the ground before her with a soft clink. She gawked at the small metal shell at her feet, and then back up to Reaver, mouth agape in disbelief. He gave her a biting look, entertained at her blatantly expressed confusion.

"Oh, my dear girl, why not stop all this bickering? The three of us could go up to my quarters and have a private party." The sinister shadows that danced beneath Reaver's mask darkened underneath his flirtatious bravado, his head no doubt swimming with images of all the degrading things he would do to the rebel leader given the slightest of chances.

Page recoiled, her lip snarling in disgust. "Do you have any idea who this is? It's Logan's sister." She motioned her hand towards the mask clad woman next to her. "The Princess."

'Princess' Morgana shot her a scornful look, feeling slightly irritated, as Page had only used the subject of her royal being to deflect Reaver's advances, instead diverting his attention to her. Honestly, she had hoped to bypass Reaver's scrutinizing gaze and even more so, avoid having her identity revealed, but Page was not one for subtlety when she felt she had an advantage. Blowing the air out of her mouth as an act of annoyance, Morgana stepped forward slightly and flickered her eyes upward toward Reaver through the eyeholes of her fox mask, wordlessly confirming the statement. His golden eyes studied her carefully, curiosity piquing and glimmering with stimulus.

"The king's sister, a bona fide hero…" Reaver paused for a moment, tracing a leather finger across his chin before giving a slight shrug. "Well, I wouldn't dream of coming between siblings. Well, that's not strictly true… There was that one time… Anyway, best of luck to this whole 'revolution' lark. Perhaps we'll meet again one day. Tatty-bye!" He turned on his heel, waving his hand lazily behind his back as he stepped through the doorway without a second glance.

"Hey! Come back!" Page barked, shooting off another round, blind with the rage of not only failing, but of being dismissed so casually after doing so. The bullet graced the top of Reaver's large stovepipe hat, but he simply ignored it, the echo of his boots scuffing the floor drifting further and further away. Her ebony skin turned a dark shade of red in the cheeks as she gritted her teeth violently behind her clenched jaw, glowering at the empty space where Reaver once stood.

Morgana closed her eyes and began biting the inside of her lip, thinking intently. Reaver was going to walk out of this mansion and never return. Avo only knows where he would end up. He could leave Albion, or worse, he could choose to stay and sabotage their plans, easily squashing any hope they had. He was not only a close advisor of King Logan, but also the richest man in recent memory. All it would take is one word and a big bag of gold and they wouldn't even be history, they'd be ashes in mountain of dust. The only reason he had ignored them thus far is because their revolution was of no threat to him or his interests as it stood, but a personal assassination attempt might change that by invoking not only his attention, but his anger.

As much as she hated to admit it, the revolution was dying, alongside the people it began to protect. Common citizens feared execution or that of their loved ones, thus they were either too afraid to help or in hiding. The dwellers had pledged their allegiance, but Brightwall's assistance could only take them so far. Brightwall was home to fine people, but they were neither wealthy nor warriors. The soldiers of Mourningwood were warriors, but they were already on Logan's radar due to being Swift's men and unable to do much without summoning the elite army, and frankly they were underfunded as well.

Even Page's rebels had been severely lacking in strength after their caravans had been pillaged by bandits or captured by Logan's elite. They had been mercilessly slaughtered with their cargo burned or captured as a message. The couriers had been hung publicly, so communication between factions was next to nonexistent. The entire rebellion was scattered and only inches from death, and although Page would never admit it, they needed help. It wasn't an option any longer, it was a requirement. Their last ditch resurrection effort was to eliminate Logan's financial backing, support, and pocket via the liberation the industrial district by ridding the world of Reaver, but he had known they'd come, and he'd even made a game of it to add insult to injury.

Both Logan and Reaver had what remained of the dying dream that was hope in their grasp, and all it would take was one swift movement to send them all spiraling to hell together. The only advantage they had now was the relative secrecy of their hideout, but even that could be compromised at any moment. She couldn't save them on her own. She may be a princess and a hero, but she was only one person.

Pressure built behind her eyes and temples, pounding in her head. Her teeth clamped down harder on the underside of her lip, a slight metallic taste leaking from inside. Reaver couldn't escape, he couldn't just leave and disappear. He could end them, crush them, and even erase their memory with a snap of his fingers. Even if he remained apathetic and left the situation alone, the resistance was in its final stage of death rattles. But what would stop him from getting the pleasure of demolishing them anyway? From what she knew of him, he was a sadistic madman who took pleasure in watching things struggle as they died at his hand. What better enjoyment than that of crushing the hope of millions of people all at once?

Sometimes you had to give to get, right?

"Wait! Reaver! I have a proposition for you." The words left her lips without warning, and even she seemed slightly taken back by them.

Silence.

The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as she waited. Every muscle in her body clenched and stiffened, praying that he both would and wouldn't return simultaneously. The room seemed empty and devoid of sound, so quiet that she could practically hear her heart beat in her stomach. Page turned to her, eyebrow raised and skeptical.

"What are you doing? We need to get Kidd and leave, sooner rather than later." Page fussed, searching for a device or lever to release Kidd, her right hand man who was trapped in a cage suspended above the room. Morgana paid her no mind, only raising her hand up in Page's direction as if to quiet her down.

"Reaver! I implore you to return and hear me out!" She commanded, trying her best to drown out the dread that flooded her body as she realized she was willingly beckoning the man. A hearty sigh left her lungs, letting her last speck of pride flow out with it. "Please?"

The room sat completely silent and tense for several moments. Page tapped her fingers restlessly on her arm, no doubt irate and scowling at the princess. She disliked being 'out of the loop', and disliked following blindly even more. The princess had only just gained her trust, and now had the audacity to give her orders? What made her think Reaver was a fool enough to return after easily escaping? After several moments, Page let out an exasperated huff and finally spoke.

"Look, I don't know what exactly you're trying to do, but we need to focus o-" Her sentence was stopped short when a pair of heavy boot prints could be heard echoing slowly, but surely across the floor above and back towards the misfortune floor room. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Her hands scrambled back down into her gun holster, frantically attempting to reload her gun. "I won't miss this time."

But before she could so much as get a single bullet in the gun, Morgana smacked the gun out of her hands, and Page watched as it helplessly skittered across the marble floor with a nasty clang. She slowly turned her head towards the princess, expressing her betrayal. Resentment flashed dangerously in her eyes, Morgana felt if looks alone could enkindle people, Page would've ignited her into a bonfire by now. None the less, she refused to meet Page's venomous glare, and instead kept her eyes averted towards the double doors above them. She wouldn't watch Page foolishly strangle the life out of their last hope by attempting to hit a man she knew could never be hit.

The doorknob squeaked as the heavy wooden doors swung open, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Part of her thanked the gods, but the other part was terrified and wished with all her might that she had been born a peasant in Brightwood instead.

"I must insist that it is rather scandalous for the female company to keep their host up past his hours." Reaver slowly came into view above them, a smug smile carved into his face. "However, I do believe I can make a, shall we say, exception for you two lovely ladies." He stopped just short of the rails, placing his cane in front of him and lazily resting his hands atop it. "Now, why is it exactly that you were in here begging for me? Normally I wouldn't mind, however I doubt that this particular beg is in any way beneficiary to me, unlike most I hear at this hour." Arrogance dripped from his voice as he mused to himself.

He must have sensed the tension in the room, as his eyes studied the princess momentarily, before moving to the gun that lay abandoned on the floor and then flickered his eyes over to a very angry Page. "Oh, now this is going to be good." He tittered.

Morgana swallowed her anxiety and stepped further forward, looking upward towards him. "I have a proposition of sorts for you." Her words came out much stronger and braver than she felt.

Reaver dismissively waved his hand in the air. "Yes, yes, I've heard all this. Now get to the interesting bits. I do find myself growing bored, and I do so hate to be bored." He threatened. He was not a man to be kept waiting, she realized, so there was no point in playing formalities or beating around the bush.

"Help us." It came out a little more like a plead than she would have liked, so she adjusted her tone, attempting to sound confident and resolved. "Help me take the throne from Logan. You have the money and the resources, you could easily help us take Albion from Logan."

"What the hell are you doing?" Page whispered angrily through her teeth, though to no response except a silencing side eye by the princess and a slight chortle from Reaver.

"While I do so love groveling, especially from royalty, I see no reason to do so. After all, your 'rebellion' is failing, your people near death, and the cause mere seconds away from total abandonment. Not to mention your poorly executed attempt on my life. What could you possibly have to offer me that made it worth my while to align myself with you, let alone be your lifeline." He sighed, nonchalantly brushing a small speck of dust off of his immaculate jacket.

"I will be queen." Morgana stepped toward his position again. "Though I am not now, with your help, I will be in a position to offer you everything."

Page's eyes widened and she looked over at the princess as if she had gone completely mad. Reaver noticed this as well and gave a triumphant, gloating smirk in her direction. Morgana knew what she was saying was not only dangerous, but utterly compromising. Not a single one of her allies would support this, and Reaver knew this and very well would take advantage of it, but they had no other choice.

"Though under no circumstances will I break any of my previously made promises, mind you." She stated firmly, a hopeless effort to calm Page's burning nerves to no avail. "But I ask of you to consider this. We can negotiate terms that are to all of our satisfaction. This can be beneficial to all of us, even you."

Reaver took several moments before speaking, putting dramatic emphasis on his 'thinking' face while he spoke. "Well now, this certainly is a surprise. Humbling yourself before me, all for the sake of Albion and its rabble, even to the surprise and, dare I say, ire of your companion." He slackly leaned against the railing, peering down toward her. "Yet how can I take your word, or that of your little sewer rat who would just as soon see me dead?" He feigned hurt at the treachery.

Morgana heaved a sigh. Truth be told, she had nothing to offer, no form of collateral, at least nothing Reaver would find valuable. Everything she had was back at the castle and technically belonged to Logan and the kingdom. All she had was her word as a princess, the honor of her family, and that of her name. Reaver was a scoundrel who took little stock in things he could not price, and he would more than likely scoff at her attempt, but it was worth a try.

Slowly, she reached behind her head and untied her mask, prying it from her face while using her other hand to rip off the ostentatious and slightly ridiculous wig from her scalp. Shaking her head vigorously, she let loose her long, jet black locks from the confines of the wig cap and threw the mask to the floor. She slowly massaged the undersides of her eyes before looking back up at Reaver, who had a sickly grin growing on his face that made her feel violated and ill.

"I show you my true face as proof of my identity." She straightened her back, standing tall, despite teetering on the brink of nausea. "I am the Princess Morgana, daughter of Sparrow, the first king of Albion, sister of Logan, king of Albion, and rightful heir to the throne." She bent down on one knee, placing her hand over her heart, as she was taught to do when she was younger while giving a royal pledge, her face burning in embarrassment and humility. "I give my word, on my family name and mine that I shall honor our agreement. No harm shall come to you at my hand, or at the hand of my allies."

Reaver slowly began clapping, leaving her on her knee for a good minute. "My, my. Now I must say I was skeptical at first, but seeing your face I definitely see the family resemblance. Not as sunken and surly as Logan, but the similarities are there enough, though there is absolutely no doubt fate favored you." He brought his hand up to his chin once more, tapping his finger against his jawbone as his auspicious eyes panned deliberately over her. "Yes, I do believe I have seen you, my dear. It must have driven your poor father half mad keeping not-so-well intentioned suitors way from you after you blossomed." He drew out his sentence, his voice silken and laden with implication. "Perhaps your dear brother simply wasn't up for the task, hence the situation we are in now."

A cherry red blush crept its way onto Morgana's face, and she turned her face away from his intimate, scrutinizing gaze, feeling uncomfortable with the attention and more expressly, the man it was coming from. Page put her hand on her sword, moving into attack stance. "She is the princess of Albion, the future queen, and you dare to-" She was cut short by Reaver's theatrical voice playing up his impatience.

"Oh, very well then, princess. I'll hear your plea. I'll have one of my servants show you to my private study for negotiations." He waved a hand at Page, a scowl growing on his lips. "Unfortunately for Miss Page, it wouldn't be fair to my staff to have to clean up the filth she'd no doubt leave behind plodding around my manor, so I must ask her to take her leave. I'll have her escorted out. This won't be a problem will it?" Reaver tauntingly pointed his cane at Page through the bars of the railing.

"If you think-" Page began, but was quickly cut off once more.

"Splendid! I shall see your shortly… Princess." He bowed deeply at Morgana before exiting from whence he came, slamming the doors behind him.

Page immediately turned to confront the princess. "I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing." Her voice was half panic, half animosity. "We came here to kill him, not deliver you into his grasp." The doors at the forefront of the room swung open, and three servants entered. They scurried towards the pair, one leading Page out and the remaining two moving towards Morgana, ready to escort her to Reaver's chambers.

"I know, I know, but we don't have another option, Page. Think about it. Without Reaver either dead or on our side, we don't have a chance. We can't kill Reaver, he expected us before and he'll expect it now. We need him on our side. I won't betray you, Page, you or Albion." Morgana assured her, but disappointment and concern was still apparent on Page's face.

"He won't ask for something you're willing to give, princess. He'll make you compromise yourself, body and soul. Reaver isn't an ordinary man. I don't know what he is, or who, butI will find out. I have no choice but to trust you, but don't make me…" She paused momentarily. "Make all of us, regret it." And with that, Page turned, following the young serf leading her out.

"I promise." Morgana pledged, but Page was already being led through the doors and out of her sight. She exhaled, closing her eyes and wondering what it was she had gotten herself into.

A young man with chesnut hair and wearing a red suit bearing the Reaver Industries logo on his breast bowed deeply to her, beckoning with an anxious, trembling smile. "This way, m'lady. Master Reaver wishes to begin negotiations as soon as possible. He says it's scandalous for a young princess to be seen in the Master's manor at this late hour." She nodded wordlessly, annoyed at Reaver's implications being forcefully voiced by the innocent kid. He turned towards the doorway, escorting Morgana out, with his companion following shortly behind.

'I can handle this." She assured herself. "I can do this for everyone. They're all counting on me. Walter, Jasper, Sabine, Page, everyone. All of Albion. I can do this.' Morgana tried to slow her pounding heart. Everything rode on this, the entire rebellion, her cause, everything. If she couldn't negotiate with a simple business man, then what kind of queen would she be for Albion?