This was a little fic I wrote years ago and just rediscovered while switching computers. We all know that the ingame Reaver would never be caught dead falling in love with anyone but himself. A few things from the game (ie Reaver, side quests, and ages) have been tweaked for my own liking. Enjoy an drop me a review if you're feeling generous. Feel free to point out any grammar, spelling, missed details etc as I'm working as my own beta right now. The title sucks I know XD
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Reaver or the rights to Fable. If I did leveling up strength in the second game wouldn't have made female characters look like she-men. Yes, I am a shameless college student who spends her freetime writing silly fan fictions about non-LI characters.
Her hair hung just past her shoulders in a loose braid. As Reaver watched her braid bounce against her back he found his eyes drifting from the copper braid to the knee length trench coat, then to the thigh high boots (her attempt at increased modesty which had had the opposite effect so far). He was so distracted by his appraisal that when she stopped he ran right into her.
"How long do you plan on following me for?"
"Sparrow, there's only one way to Bowerstone from Bloodstone. I would have gone by boat but someone had to involve me in her scheme for revenge." Reaver replied coolly taking a step away from the angry adventurer.
Sparrow growled, her emerald eyes flashing hotly, and swallowed her irritation. All of Albion and she had to be followed by the one Hero who she could outright murder. Her right hand traced the outline of the knife hidden in the top of her left boot. She had hoped that the pants, boots, and trench coat would keep the worst of his leering at bay but she had felt his eyes on her all day. He hadn't said anything though and that was the strange part. The Reaver she had knew would have spewed proposition after proposition at her; however, today Reaver had apparently been content to just watch and keep his big, stupid mouth shut. Sparrow could only take consolation the fact that the boots had been a good purchase with plenty of uses ranging from hiding knives to merely keeping her legs warm in the chill costal air.
Shadows, she's even prettier angry. Reaver had long since ceased trying to ignoring these thoughts. Sparrow had whipped him up into her mess with Lucien, and as she had shaped the world into the weapon she needed, she had changed some integral part of him. He had sought to put things back to normal by leaving for Samarkand. Running away had always worked in the past when a man or woman had captured too much of his attention. None of his old tricks had worked this time though and so now he was back at the source.
"Anyway, I think Poorman's point is just past this hill. Not that I'm an expert on this region, I don't walk much." Reaver grinned as Sparrow let loose one of her famous groans of frustration and whirled around walking even faster up the steep hill.
I can't wait till we reach Bowerstone and I can slam the door of my house shut on that plague ridden, selfish, pox midden, dung ball of a pirate. Sparrow thought furiously as she stomped over the muddy trail. It was two nights ago that she had been dropped off at the Bloodstone harbor by the captain of the Sharlot Marie (the captain was terrible at spelling) when she had run into Reaver.
"Quite lucky I found you on the road. I always like debts paid up front." Reaver was saying, not even trying to hide his amusement. She could hear the laughter in his voice like chimes in the wind and like those dinky garden decorations, Sparrow found it annoying.
"Found me?" Sparrow turned to glare at the pirate ready to unleash a stream of curses while walking backwards. Her copper braid was thrown over her shoulder with the force of her turn. "I found you! I found you standing like an oaf in front of a Demon Door of all things in the middle of a cemetery!"
Reaver barely suppressed a sigh, if she was going to yell at him so much he would have stayed with Garth in Samarkand, miserable and bored. Well if she's screaming it means she feels something at least. He thought ironically.
"You great bastard child of a screaming spider-pleasing marsupial!"
"You come up with that one yourself?" Reaver laughed, he jogged forward a few steps to catch up with Sparrow. She was fast, even walking backwards. "If it's so sodding troublesome to travel with me; how come you dragged me out of that cemetery?"
Sparrow halted her right foot held comically in the air, why had I pulled him away from there? It had never occurred to her to not pull him away from the possessed door. She could have left him to be sucked into the door's riddles just like any other unfortunate soul, but instead she had saved him. She lowered her foot, moving back one step.
"I-"Sparrow stuttered, surprise clearly written over her suntanned face.
Reaver waited, staring. The sun was setting behind Sparrow, offsetting her copper hair, making her glow like a goddess. He felt the grin on his face fade; the sun was setting behind her? Reaver's dark grey eyes shot to the ground, they were situated only about three feet from the edge of a cliff.
"Sparrow-"
"I-I'm a hero! I save people!" Sparrow said indignantly, her face flushing red. She took a step backward. "Don't go thinking you're special just because-! " Sparrow's explanation ended in a short yelp as the ground gave way and Sparrow found herself tipping backwards. She reached out her gloved hands her eyes locked with Reaver's dark grey irises.
Reaver lunged, his hand reaching hers just in time. The pirate pulled the hero back to solid ground, stumbling back several feet from the edge of the cliff. Reaver had pulled her to his chest and she stayed there, her wide eyes hidden from his view. Then he felt her hand drop to his side and before he understood that she was going for his gun and not something else, she had fired three shots without so much as a peek over his shoulders at her targets.
Reaver let out a sigh of relief. "No more scolding. I don't think I can take it."
"Tell that to the bandits you let sneak up on us." Sparrow said with a little laugh, she slipped the pistol back into its holster and pushed away from his chest, her arms shaking.
He looked at her waiting.
"Heights, I, um, I'm not good with heights." She whispered and stared intently at the slain bandits. I will not let him laugh at me. It's a valid fear! Sparrow thought stubbornly.
Reaver shrugged nonchalantly, "Shall we?" Oh how good it had felt when she had clung to him. What else could have happened if those damned bandits hadn't interrupted? Reaver pushed the barrage of fantasies away but making a mental note to revisit them later. He was surprised to hear that she was scared of heights as most of Theresa's inane quests had involved spires or mountains or overly large hills.
Sparrow frowned; this was not the reaction she had been expecting. "No comment? No sarcastic rebuke?" She smoothed her braid with one gloved hand and tossed it back over her shoulder. This was not the Reaver she had come to know during that year fighting against Lucien. He was almost being nice.
Reaver arched an eyebrow, "You really are masochistic." He sounded almost annoyed.
"Are you feeling okay? You haven't been acting very…Reaver-like since you returned from Samarkand." Sparrow watched his face close and that familiar smug and put upon expression descend. She could barely stop herself from jumping in delight. At last, the Reaver she knew and hated was back. The Reaver that she had spent a year fighting Lucien with before he had betrayed her. Yes she knew how to deal with this Reaver.
"Don't you have a vicious ghost to exorcise, Hero?" the title came out as a sneer reminding Sparrow just how much Reaver thought of it. "Or are you planning on waiting for the bandits to come looking for their man in black? I do hope they bring more men this time." Reaver turned away from Sparrow and picked his way back to the road. He didn't wait for the hero to follow.
Sparrow snorted in dismissal, "They never came for him."
"What?" Reaver asked, halting in mid step, half turning back to look at Sparrow curiously.
"What?" she deadpanned, and then, after glancing at the bandit she had just off'd, blushed. "Oh, you meant him. Is that the haunted cliff over there? Will wonders never cease!" she hurried past a dumbfounded Reaver with one gloved hand blocking her red face from view.
Reaver felt an urge to chuckle at little Sparrow's antics but suppressed it in favor of catching up with the Hero. He wanted to know who her man in black was, and if he should be expecting competition.