Avarice

Chapter 2: Complications

I've got more wit…

A better kiss…

A better fuck…

Than any boy you'll ever meet,

Sweetie you had me.

Panic At The Disco – Lying Is The Most Fun

Ace jumped forward, a bullet of fur within the room. He latched himself onto the expensive sleeve of Reaver's Balverine fur-lined coat, a growling, snarling and vicious force. Ace sunk his teeth into fabric, ripping the white cloth. The action from the 'dirty mongrel', as Reaver had dubbed him, caught the industrialist off guard, and the man backed away, his fingers still clenching the feared Dragonstomper .48 as if it were his lifeline.

Seeing an opportunity, Naveena reached for the handle of her hammer, Judgment from over her shoulder. Slinging it forward, the Heroine brought forth the crux of her Strength, a rush of adrenaline whipping itself through her veins. She swung the hammer forward, shutting her eyes tightly, fingers clasped around the exotic handle securely.

Reaver's murky eyes glimmered with something similar to deviousness, a sort of knowing that she would attempt to kill him. He swung his hand backwards, and the part of the sleeve that Ace had been clutching to with sharp teeth ripped, and the collie's body flew backwards, thrown into the wall sharply. The dog fell with a dull sound, falling unconscious and unaware of his mistresses' quandary, his teeth still clutching the precious objet d'art.

And then, as brazen as he could, Reaver did what was expected of a sly, roguish Hero of Skill: He ducked.

The Hammer went whizzing over the top of Reaver's head, barely gracing the tips of his kinky, dark hair. He looked up at Naveena, those brown eyes crinkling as if this were all a humorous joke, a sad, tragic comedy replaying the maybe final moments of her life.

Naveena's lips parted in horror, her blue eyes wide with fear and recognition. And again, Reaver did a dastardly move: He tackled her. His shoulder rammed into her midsection, and the two went down beside the king-sized bed in a tangle of limbs and hatred. Reaver straddled her, pinned her wrists high above her head, and Naveena tried desperately to writhe out of the man's vice-like grip.

He leaned forward, his lips only inches from her own. He smiled, smirked at her obvious plight, and Naveena tried desperately to knee him in the place where it hurt most. He brought his knee up to the most intimate section of her body, and Naveena felt Reaver's breath on his lips.

"Hmm, why don't we just end all this useless violence, princess?" He was mocking her, and was oh-so-delighted by the furious expression in those sea-like orbs of hers. "Perhaps we can negotiate?" Reaver emphasized just what he meant by negotiating by kissing the corner of her chin, something that seemed so eerily innocuous and yet held darker, more sordid undertones.

In response, the revolutionary spat in his face, that furious countenance never once leaving her.

The deviant's vanity demanded he let go of her wrists to take care of the spittle that was now trailing across his tattooed cheek like an abstract painter's paints, which was mere instinct for someone as prideful and vain as Reaver but the fact that he'd let go of her wrists proved to be a foolish move. The second his hands left hers, Naveena provided a most powerful, adrenaline-filled punch which landed rather perfectly on Reaver's heart tattoo.

With a satisfactory groan, the man rolled off of the ex-princess, who scrambled to her feet to get the Dragonstomper .48, which had skittered off to the side during her and Reaver's scuffle. The gun was there, just out of reach, when Naveena tripped over her own two feet in an attempt to get it. She fell on her knees, and reached forward with desperate, tangible fingers.

All it took was a nudge from Reaver's boot and what Naveena had considered at the moment to be her saving grace was knocked from her grasp. Naveena came face-to-face with the toe of Reaver's shoes, and slowly, so painstakingly slowly, she raised her head upwards to stare into the barrel of her own gun.

She prayed to all the deities, Avo, Skorm, the Light and the Shadow, bloody hell at this point she would give obeiscene to the damned Void if it would save her.

"My dear, as I said before, all this fighting is so… droll. Perhaps we can forget all this and… traipse the bed over there, hmm?"

He pushed back dark locks with a gloved hand, an intolerable smirk plastered on the industrialist's handsome face. Avo, how Naveena despised him.

"Shove off." Was her short, meaningful reply.

At this point, if she were to go down, she vowed she would go down as audaciously as she could.

"Ah, it can't be helped," He waved her gun boldly, his eyes going to half-mast. "Though, I do prefer it when my bedfellows are more… active."

She gazed at him from below heavily lidded eyes, her blue eyes sparkling with something similar to determination, disgust and uncertainty. Reaver's cheek twisted slightly with a malign smile, and his long finger tightened around the trigger finger. Naveena shut her eyes tightly, digging her fingers into the cracks of the flagstone floors.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the air.

And the bullet whizzed past Naveena, missing her by only a few inches. Naveena's eyes snapped open and she looked sharply to the side, as smoke curled from her pistol and into the air, dissipating. She blinked, dumbly, before the realization came to her.

Reaver was playing games with her.

This angered Naveena, oh it had vexed her.

"You do so look like your mother when you look at me like that," Reaver tilted his head ever-so-slightly, mocking her. "My, how it brings back such memories!"

Naveena moved to one knee, slowly, her eyes never leaving his imposing form. He watched her, calmly, that insufferable smirk still pressed against the corners of his lips. With snail's speed, Naveena rose to her full height, realizing with disdain that Reaver had a greater height advantage to her by half a head. She looked to the corners of her eyes, the gaze falling upon the crumpled body of her companion, Ace, and her hammer which had been knocked out of her hand.

She looked back to Reaver, who once more had her own pistol pointed at her, and she tensed again.

What little she knew of diplomacy, of negotiating, wouldn't work on a man as unreasonable as Reaver. He had about as much reason as a Hobbe on holiday. Reaver steadied his hand once again, letting out an annoyed and exasperated sigh, and this time, Naveena wondered if he intended to miss.

He pulled back the hammer of the pistol, watching Naveena through bored, inattentive eyes that sparkled darkly.

"Wait!" If her lips hadn't moved, and the voice hadn't come out of her throat, Naveena would have never thought that she had spoken. "I'll… I'll do anything! Just don't-"

She had hooked him at anything; "Anything…? Why, you little minx! Relying on your charms to get what you want! I applaud you!"

"Except that." She spat, her upper lip curling in disgust. Naveena wondered if that was all Reaver ever thought about. She must have looked dreadfully amusing, because the damn smirk that Reaver was showing off seemed to grow, larger and larger, like an untamed weed.

"Well then, let us negotiate the terms of this agreement." He lowered the pistol just a bit, still wary of the girl in front of him. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lip curled into a menacing sneer, and her blue eyes twinkled with something similar to barely-contained fury. Naveena watched him carefully, looking for any kind of opening.

There was, of course, no opening. She was foolish to think that this dreadful man would really let his guard down.

"Go ahead," She bristled, her own pride demanding that she not back down from Reaver. "I'm at your mercy, Reaver."

This pleased him, a sick kind of pleasure that one would derive from kicking a defenseless kitten and then beating it with a newspaper around the head, and that untamed weed of a smirk only seemed to grow and grow and grow. Those dark pools of depravity seemed lost in thought, and then, as if a sudden idea had come to him, his cheeks twisted wolfishly.

"How about you, my beautiful princess, come work at my lovely," He emphasized it, as if to press upon Naveena that his manor was indeed lovely. "Manor for a week, and we can forget this little… transgression."

Naveena balked, she paled, her countenance did all manners of things to express her displeasure. Work? For him? Never! No! Not while a rebellion was being planned, not while her revolution was just at her fingertips!

"No!"

Reaver frowned, a small frown that frightened Naveena even more than his usual smirk. His brown eyes glittered with something that could only be described as pure malevolence, and Naveena bristled.

"I think you misunderstand, mon cherie, I didn't ask." He raised the pistol again, a veiled threat.

Naveena opened her mouth to speak, but Reaver boldly placed a finger over her lips, and she shot him a smoldering glare. He smiled, and she was reminded sharply of a mischievous cat. Reaver gave her a look that was stuck between a warning and what he supposed was a seductive visage.

"Besides," He stressed his words again, and the revolutionary tensed. This could only mean something bad. "Wouldn't it be a dreadful shame if the location of your little Resistance Group was leaked to the King…?"

Her lips parted, her eyes widened. Reaver couldn't have possibly meant…

"Oh yes, because I've come across a deliciously scandalous report regarding all of them. And I can just imagine the treasures King Logan would bestow upon me if I told him the location of his dear little sister."

"You wouldn't dare-"Naveena started, but Reaver brusquely cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Believe me, my little minx, I would dare."

Naveena weighed her options carefully, regarding the raised pistol with pinched blue eyes. He would dare. She knew enough of Reaver to know that he was out for himself, and that it would be naïve to think that he would care if Albion fell into disrepair because Logan was still in the throne and she were in a dungeon, rotting away.

There was only one way forward, that much Naveena knew.

"Fine," She answered, retorted really, in a tone that very much intoned her anger. "Fine."

He drummed long fingers along the pistol, looked at her with half-lidded eyes, as if bored by her sudden submission. But there was something there, something she couldn't describe. Naveena tried not to dwell on it.

"Wonderful," There was a drip of sarcasm somewhere in that voice. "Go home, gather your things, and I will send a carriage in the morning to your house. Tatty-bye!"

The long walk back from Millfields, with Ace in her arms, was long indeed.

Elliot was worried. Worried in the way any good husband would be if their wife were out too late. He wondered if she got caught up with bandits on the road, or perhaps the few Balverines that stalked the gates outside of Bowerstone at night. That thought, sent the coldest shiver down his spine. Though he knew Naveena to be very, very capable, he still couldn't help but worry. Naveena had once called him a worry-wart, kissed him and laughed, saying she could take care of herself.

"I can take care of myself, you know." She had responded, folding her arms over her chest. Elliot noticed she was wearing a practical outfit, one stuffier nobles might have scoffed at. Elegance was key in the Court, but Naveena had never cared much for things like elegance. She didn't even know how to cook, or sew, or even the proper way to hold an eating utensil. Naveena was one for the art of swordplay, and that had been what occupied her time.

Elliot wouldn't have had it any way. He enjoyed the company of his practical princess.

"Oh?" He challenged, looking at her in that teasing way. "Prove it."

Naveena kissed him boldly, again uncaring of the stuffy nobles that watched them, scrutinizing their princess' every move.

"How's that?"

"That'll do just fine."

Smiling slightly, though the smile was still tinged with a hint of worry, Elliot turned from their modest window to go back into the middle of their house. Yes, Naveena could take care of herself. He sat at the worn table, picking at the food he'd cooked earlier. She had promised she would be back later, after running an errand for their neighbor, Benjamina, though Elliot was unaware of what she was doing for their crazy neighbor. Had he known she was stealing Reaver's underwear, he would have stopped her.

He shoveled a bit of food into his mouth, though it did absolutely nothing to ease the increasing trepidation he was getting as the grandfather clock in the corner of the room moved slowly, the minutes ticking by with still no sign of his wife. Elliot sighed, and stood up, moving back to the window to look out at the outskirts of Bowerstone.

Elliot admired the moon, which was shining at full blast in the deep black sky. He furrowed his brow, and began worrying again. As a few minutes passed, he turned away from the window once more, nibbling at his nails, a bad habit that he'd picked up from Naveena.

It was when the grandfather clock announced that another hour had gone by before the door had opened. Elliot, who had been folding laundry, jumped, whipping around to face his wife who had arrived so early in the wee hours.

Naveena trailed in, tired and angry about what had occurred at Reaver's Mansion, and Ace held his head down, following her, feeling as if he'd betrayed or angered his mistress somehow. She must have looked a fright, because before she could even register the fact that her husband was home, he rushed over to her.

"Welcome home, love!" He pressed a kiss to her cheekbone, a kiss that seemed hardly tangible, and Naveena gave him a look askance before collapsing into one of the chairs in their kitchen.

"Sorry," Naveena shot a look at the pendulum that was swinging to and fro so very slowly. "I promised I'd be back early, didn't I?"

She didn't need to regale her husband with the story of her broken hubris, nor of the fact that she was going be demoted to scullery maid in the next week. Elliot smiled, touching his wife's shoulder softly, as if she were some glass doll that could be easily broken.

"It's fine, I know how it is, with the rebellion and all." Elliot suddenly made a pained face. "Knowing Walter, he's probably got you worked to the bone."

"I'll be leaving again soon, though." She looked at him apologetically. "I'm going to the Silverpines tomorrow, for a week."

"What? You can't just…" He trailed off, turning away from his wife, submitting to her. Though Naveena loved him, truly, Elliot took things harshly, personally. She scooted out of her chair, and Ace whimpered, a poor, pathetic sound that was drowned by the scratching of floppy ears. Naveena stood behind Elliot, and gave him a stiff, short hug.

"I'm sorry, love."

EDIT: Fixed a few errors, and rewrote things that I did not like.