Act I Part II
A Most Interesting Plan

Sparrow sat upon the glorious throne of Fairfax castle, looking around the throne room, admiring the art that adorned the walls, the colourful banners that hung from the ceiling and the statues that looked stood tall, gazing down at those who passed.. She was in preparation for the coronation, and she couldn't believe what was happening.

The people of Albion adored her – why, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was for her sacrifice, which wasn't so great – only her canine companion – or maybe it was from eliminating the evil lord who threatened the land. Again, this couldn't possibly make up for all her wrongs. She had beena criminal, after all. She wasn't proud of her history; it was long and unpleasant, leaving a revolting trail of carnage in its trail. It made her sick to think of what she had done, but she was different now.

At least, she thought she was...

There came a knock at the large wooden doors. Sparrow snapped to attention, and called for them to enter. She had been waiting all week, but she couldn't say she was looking forward to this particular meeting.

In came a man dressed in odd fashion, an outfit comprised of mostly a red fabric. His hair was freshly cut and he was looking simply radiant. Beside him stood a young boy of about eight, who wore a similar outfit that favoured purple rather than red, and in a much smaller size, and the man was taller than usual to begin with.

"My dear old friend! What a pleasure it is-"

"Save it, Reaver."

Sparrow shot him a look, her face cold as ice, causing him to back away suddenly. He looked to his younger companion, edging him forward with a tilt of the head, mouthing words the queen-to-be couldn't quite make out.

She looked at the boy, noticing he didn't look quite well. His face was drained of all colour apart from the deep purple bags around his eyes. She couldn't deny he reminded her of his father, which made her – admittedly – sick . An image of his pasty white face came to mind. The mere thought of him caused her lunch to rise in her throat.

Unable to take it anymore, she turned away, looking to the window. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. "Why did you bring him here, Reaver?" she asked, he voice shaky. "I thought we were to talk of business, not disgusting bastard children of artificial, vile, meaningless life."

A sob escaped the boy's throat, his body shaking violently. He ran to Reaver and buried himself in the man's side.

"Now look what you've done! And you say his father is vile..." He smirked at her, seeing a spark of anger in her eyes. The smugness faded, becoming what Sparrow thought might possibly be genuine sorrow. He looked down at the boy, taking him into his arms, picking him up and holding him tightly in his arms. "Ssh, it's okay, my little darling."

"Nobody loves me," the boy sobbed.

"Now, I love you, my boy!"

Sparrow sighed, her lip twitching, her eyes threatening to betray her as she continued to fight back tears. She watched as the man she thought of as heartless comforting this boy, caressing his face, holding him tightly... She could never do that with the child of something so disgusting.

"Are we going to do this, or not?" Sparrow asked, growing tired of the display. She looked to Reaver, who put the distraught boy down, and ruffled his hair. He looked back to his business partner and smiled politely. "Good, now, follow me."

She led him to the study, which was now cleaned of Lucien's old research and crazy gadgets. She had set up a proper work area, where she had been taking care of everything of late; finance, catering and guests of honour for the coronation, requests from the citizens of Albion...

Sitting down in the chair behind her desk, she motioned for Reaver to have a seat in front of her. Having done so, he looked at the plans laid out before him. "What's this?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Reaver, you're a man of many talents, and many riches. What I'm suggesting is industrialization. It's all the rage down South, and I want a piece of that; something to bring to the table as the new queen. It'll be a right proper revolution – everything will be able to be done with machinery. The possibilities are quite nearly endless. While he get most of these simple things from overseas, we can produce it ourselves."

"What do you want of me?" he asked.

"I need someone to finance it, of course," Sparrow replied.

"And what do I get in return?"

"It'll set you up for life as far as money goes – once the cash starts rolling in. And I know you can't resist money... The kingdom will be... in your debt, you could say."

Reaver paused, looking over her for a second. "And... how do you plan on doing this, exactly?"

"Everything will belong to the royal family – we get a cut of everything. We own the land, we own the business."

"Ingenious, my friend... And you say you have the technology for the job? I know it's everywhere in some places... but you brought it here?" He smiled, looking back to the plans. "And what do you plan on making in these factories of yours?"

"Not mine, but the people's," she replied with a smile. "They can do whatever they very well please, as long as I get my money." She watched as his expression grew distant, his smile growing. She didn't like that. "Now, don't you get any ideas... I don't I like the idea of you in the manufacturing business."

"Really? I do have many talents..."

"Not in my lifetime will there be a day you open an Avo-knows-what factory."

Reaver pushed his chair back, that sly smile returning as he held out his hand. "Factory of my own or not, I'll help you." His smile grew as Sparrow took his hand and shook it, his mind running at no less than a million miles a second as it set to work on how he could use this arrangement to his advantage. Of course, he was raising a child at the moment he could easily use as a puppet; stick him on the throne when the queen dies, and he'd do whatever he pleased. But that'd be too easy.

Little did he know, the boy was growing a mind of his own – a noble one, despite his unfavourable background. But that's a story for another time.

As they once again reached the throne room, they found the boy running around, shouting orders to people who simply weren't there, judging criminals that existed in his mind alone, and listening to pleas of citizens that were nothing but silence. They stood and watched in awe as this child with unmentionable origins was playing as if he were simply a kid. Of course, this is what he was, despite their beliefs.

Sparrow smiled at the innocence on her son's face, forgetting the Commandant and those many years she spent under his command and even his person that lead to his birth. For the first time, she felt some affection for the boy. She felt tears in her eyes – of which nature, she couldn't decide. She walked over to him, knelt over, and wrapper her arms around him for the first time since his birth.

"Mother," he whispered, remaining stiff as a board. "What-"

She shushed him, her arms tightening around him. She buried her face in his black hair, letting the tears run freely now. The boy was crying too, finally able to hug his mother, to feel her warmth.

Reaver cleared his throat. He would never admit it – and thank Avo no one had seen – that he, too, had cried. He had long ago decided to leave those mushy feelings behind, but he like the boy a great deal. Cared for him, even. Loved him, perhaps. "Come now, Logan. We really must be getting back now."