"Greetings, Your Majesty."
I froze, plagued by the sudden bout of chills that ran down the back of my spine. That voice was all too familiar to me – though it would be to anyone else, I'm sure. It was the voice of a god, practically, the only immortal being Albion has ever seen.
"Reaver."
I said this without turning around, because I didn't want him to see the blush that then colored my cheeks. The same blush that I got just by uttering his name. It was rather thrilling to say the least. Not many people can and live to tell the tale.
His leather boots made soft noises as they came down upon the castle's lush carpet, and I could hear him coming closer, closer. I would have to turn around eventually, and sometime soon.
"Your Majesty?" I could hear the very smile in his voice.
Well, here it goes, I thought. Spinning on my heel, I finally came face to face with Reaver, and nearly gasped aloud.
He looked even more spectacular than usual. Reaver was dressed in plain attire, his dark tunic clinging to his muscled chest perfectly while his trousers did the same to his legs. Reaver's tousled hair hung about his temples in disarray, and suddenly, I had an urge to run my fingers through its strands. Meanwhile, his chiseled arms were folded across his torso, and his brilliant eyes shone with keen interest, as if he were thinking the same thing.
I've never seen him like this before – so ordinary looking yet so exquisite all the same. Hell, no one has.
He must have read the surprise that registered on my face, because his eyebrows shot up on his forehead and a muscle in his jaw started working as his mouth split open into a grin.
"Hello," I said abruptly – politely.
He bowed, flourishing the movement with a gesture of his hand, and I lifted my chin in response, feigning confidence. As if I had any with this man.
I brought my gaze straight to his again and couldn't help but feel warm at where I stood. Then, I cursed myself for acting so foolish. After all, Reaver was basically the essence of pure evil. The murderer of countless innocents – even the destroyer of his home town… he had even tried to kill me once as well as my father, or so I'm told. He was a horrible force to be reckoned with.
So, why did he make me feel this way?