Avarice

Chapter 4: The Spire

And how can we win…?

When fools can be kings…?

Don't waste your time…

Or time will waste you…

Muse – Knights of Cydonia

She had a plan.

One would have called it a foolish, stupid and perhaps clichéd plan, but to Naveena it was a plan nonetheless. She hummed to herself as she cleaned out the rubbish from Reaver's party alongside several other servants, (Including that harlot, Ada, whom Naveena couldn't even look in the eye…) smiling ever so slightly to herself. The answer was so simple! She couldn't even believe that she hadn't thought of it the second she'd found herself in this manor, cleaning up Reaver's trash!

Stuffing a glass bottle of empty fizzy pop into a rubbish bag, Naveena thought about Ben, and the rest of the Revolution. She was supposed to meet Ben at the Castle, after the Masquerade, but Naveena had gotten herself caught up in this mess. Whatever Logan had to say, and Naveena highly doubted it was anything truly important, she had obviously missed it. Which was a terrible shame, but she was obviously a person unable to be in two places at once.

Naveena stretched, raising her arms high in the air, as if attempting to reach the high ceilings and admired the mansion for a bit. If one were to take away the stacked paintings, Reaver's Mansion would've had an elegant appeal to it. It was nothing like Bowerstone Castle, of course not, but Naveena had a dark feeling that the manor had a mausoleum of its own, and that the carpets and walls had once been stained with dripping rubies.

One of the maids, a girl younger than her by quite a bit, yelled at her to keep moving, flipping wild blonde hair over her shoulder, arguing that, "Master Reaver wants his mansion spick and span!"

The revolutionary, who had never once enjoyed being told what to do, rolled her eyes and continued collecting bottles of fizzy pop, as well as the occasional bottle of liquor. Logan would have balked at the outlandish amount of alcohol, and would have been disturbed to see his law against booze flippantly ignored by an aristocrat like Reaver. Not to mention the fact that Reaver had been helping Logan slowly build his mountainous treasury.

She continued her cleaning well into the middle of the afternoon, before finding herself quietly skulking away from the rest of the housekeeping staff, shirking her duties but not really caring, as she was confident in her abilities to pull off her plan well.

One would call her an overconfident fluff-head, and argue that she should follow Murphy's Law and prepare for the very worst: an Epic Fail, but Naveena found herself uncaring and blissful. Indeed. For the first time since she'd been forced into this mess, she was happy.

There was a library, surprisingly enough, within the depths of the hedonistic estate. Books were stacked high to the walls, and though most of them were scarlet, gold-lettered biographies concerning Reaver, she found a few that seemed… interesting enough.

The Pangs of Sunset… Famous Killers: Terrence Posture… The Grasping Avarice of Kings and Their Lackeys… Tyranny of Tyrants…

She stopped, coming upon a strange, peculiar sight. Just between The Grasping Avarice of Kings and Their Lackeys and Tyranny of Tyrants was a squashed, dark-covered and thin-spined book. There was no title embellished on the spine, which was an anomaly among books, and Naveena found her curiosity getting the best of her. Was it a journal? A diary of some sort? She wrenched it out of the space between the two heavy books, tripping backwards a little at the amount of force it took to rip it out. She held the little black book with two, unsteady hands, realizing that a sanguine-colored title was swirled elegantly over the cover.

Diary.

Naveena assumed that, maybe, it belonged to the housekeeping staff. The library certainly wasn't well-used, an observation gathered from the amount of dust that covered the Victorian armchairs and the cherry bookcases, and appeared to really only be for show, or collecting purposes. So it made sense that someone would hide their diary away in a place like this.

The diary itself appeared quite old, with tarnished, yellowing pages, as if it had been kept out in direct sunlight for too long. Naveena looked furtively around, checking to make sure she was alone. Though, morally, it was very wrong to look in someone's personal diary, there was something about it that… compelled her. Beckoned her.

Seeing that no one was around, and that no one would probably be around to see her transgression, Naveena cracked open the diary with slightly trembling fingers. The handwriting was neat, quite beautiful, and Naveena got the feeling that it was a girl's hand that wrote this.

"This is my first night back since the… renovations. I must say, that chap in Rookridge has done a wonderful job. A small miracle, since he had recently lost three toes and two family members. But what was I to do? He wouldn't be persuaded to abandon the construction of some worthless temple. And his predecessor had simply the worst taste in furnishings!"

The ex-princess crinkled her brow. Rookridge? There was no town, no village she knew of that was called Rookridge. And what was this about some chap who'd lost three toes? And renovations? On what? A house, perhaps? There seemed to be a certain flamboyancy expressed in the words, and Naveena took back her earlier assumption that the diary's author was a girl.

"I was generous to let him live as long as I did. Now that awful scent of burnt wood and flesh has dissipated, I will throw a party. Penelope and Ursula will be my guests of honor. A shame Andrew perished in the fire."

Naveena stopped.

She knew exactly who the author was. There was no one else who could… who would… Was that a tickle on the nape of her neck? Brushing against tufts of red hair?

"I'm sure that you've heard the old saying," Reaver placed his chin on her shoulder, peering over to look at the journal that Naveena held so delicately in her hands. "'Curiosity' is what killed the cat?"

Naveena froze, feeling the barrel of Reaver's Dragonstomper .48 being pressed against her temple. Her fingers trembled, and the journal in her hands, Reaver's journal, fell to the flagstone floor of the library with a loud, resolute thud. She didn't turn to face him, didn't turn to speak. Naveena stood there, a marble statue that couldn't move at all.

"I…" She started, but what could she really say? 'I apologize for looking into your diary, knowing that it was someone's private property'? That, was a most pathetic excuse. "I…"

Reaver looked at her through bored eyes, his pointed chin still resting on her shoulder, his prized pistol still held at her temple. He breathed against the contour of her cheek, and she spared a glance at him in the corner of her eyes.

"Oh, don't bother explaining yourself, my dear." Reaver nipped at the lobe of her ear, a vicious nip, an angry bite and Naveena let out a furious hiss, her fists clenching at her sides. "Such a shame… you were a marvelous thing to behold, seems almost a waste to just kill you, don't you think?"

He gripped her shoulders, and turned Naveena around, pressing her against the bookcase. This frightened her, and Reaver's arms encaged her. The pistol was tucked right underneath her neck, and she could feel it there, against her pulse, a cold, cruel feeling that terrified Naveena. She had no weapons, no ways to fight Reaver…

And then, she had remembered the plan.

Her arms shot up, so suddenly, that there was an actual expression of astonishment that danced in the dark, depraved pools of Reaver's eyes. Naveena's fingers curled around the nape of his neck, tightened into the inky strands of thick hair, and she yanked the surprised ex-pirate forward. Soft, badly-chewed lips met silky ones, and Naveena found herself forcing her way into Reaver's mouth.

Reaver smiled, a twisted smile that Naveena could feel through the kiss, and he released his trapping position to bring a hand to Naveena's… assets. The revolutionary felt the unquenchable urge to kill him right then and there, but instead let her fingers twitch irritably. The other hand, which held the Dragonstomper .48 fell to Reaver's side, and the man himself pressed Naveena into the bookcase, moving a knee in between her legs.

Slowly, so that Reaver wouldn't know what she was doing, she cracked open her blue eyes and looked down at the pistol, moving her hands downward from the nape of the industrialist's neck. Reaver cocked his head a little, deepening the kiss, and Naveena found herself fighting the sudden desire to vomit. She pressed her hands against his chest, curling fingers into white fabric, and as the kiss went on, her hands went lower and lower.

She could feel Reaver's tongue toying with hers, and through the feelings of repugnance and antipathy there was a certain… feel-good emotion buried in the recesses of her stomach. It was something she had most certainly never felt with Elliot, or with any of her other lovers, and this was something… distressing.

It was a shame that Reaver would have to die.

Her arm slowly reached for the Dragonstomper . 48, the one that was held in Reaver's lax grip, and carefully, carefully she reached for it…

Naveena would have gotten it too, if hadn't been for the sudden opening of the door.

With a sound that was unsettlingly close to a gunshot, the doors were thrust open, banging harshly against the walls. Ada staggered in, her black hair tangled around her face and those beautiful eyes of hers wild with something that Naveena cannot fathom.

"Master Reaver," She breathed, her head bent. Ada hadn't yet seen the compromising position her master is in. The girl wrenched her head upwards, and her green eyes flickered with something. "The mansion!" She ignored Naveena and stepped towards Reaver, quickly, hurriedly. "It's-"

Ada fell to the floor quickly, her back arching backwards, and there was another sound, another sound which sounded so eerily like a gunshot. The beautiful girl's body crumpled to the floor, and blood oozed lazily onto the flagstones, painting them a deep crimson color. Naveena's eyes widened, and Reaver pulled away from her, looking completely unfazed. He was staring at Ada's lifeless body, and his head leisurely looked upwards.

One of Logan's soldiers stood in the doorway.

The man yelled, exclaiming that he had found them, acting as if he were completely ignorant of the fact that he'd just ended a life, and turned back towards them, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands.

Reaver raised his pistol, looked down the barrel, and shot. The industrialist certainly lived up to his name, as the bullet went right in between the soldier's eyes, and he fell backwards, his mouth gaping open in a contorted fashion. Several soldiers joined them, and though Reaver had sighed, irritably, he dispatched all of them immediately.

Without a word, Reaver grabbed Naveena's wrist, as if realizing for the first time that she was unarmed, and ran. Naveena hadn't expected Reaver to be a fast runner, she had thought him to be more of a lazy, hedonistic lout than anything else.

"It appears as though your brother has been sticking his nose in places where it shouldn't be," Reaver told her, shooting another soldier, holding on to her wrist tightly. "A pity, here I am, betrayed, when I was planning to turn you in from the start…"

He said this as if he were complaining about horrid weather, or protestors outside his factory.

"You…" Naveena started, glaring at the back of his head as they moved forward through the mansion. "You bastard! You were going to turn me in? And where are we going?"

"My, my… you truly are your mother's daughter. Though Sparrow was a little more… spunky when she delivered her angry rant at me. Alas, Que Sera Sera." He pointedly ignored her last question, pulling her forward.

Naveena sneered, though she was intrigued. Reaver spoke often as if he knew her mother personally. But Naveena felt she knew her mother well enough to know that she wouldn't cooperate with the likes of filth such as Reaver. The little she had heard of her mother, told Naveena that the old Hero Queen was not a woman to mess with, that she was prudent, just and well-mannered.

Oh, if only she knew.

The revolutionary dug her heels in, and Reaver had to pull her harshly to get her moving again. She refused to be dragged around like a puppy on a leash.

"Where are we going?" She pressed, attempting to pull her wrist back as Reaver shot yet another soldier of the Elite Royal Guard. The man tightened his grip.

"You are almost, but not quite, as annoying as Sparrow as well." He commented, ignorant of the fact that he had just essentially insulted Naveena's mother in front of her. "As you know, I am quite fond of secret passages, always useful for escaping a scorned ex-lover."

He said nothing else, and the two waded in silence until they reached Reaver's bedroom. The bedroom was untouched, though the red and gold sheets were in a state of disarray. Reaver let go of Naveena's wrist, and walked towards the unlit fireplace. His dark eyes monitored the trinkets on top of the fireplace, and he reached towards one.

She recognized it as the sculpture of the spire. As Reaver's fingers graced the object, Naveena realized that she could use this opportunity to her advantage. Reaver wouldn't be expecting her to hit him, or anything like that. Naveena looked around, searching for something that could be used as a weapon.

There was nothing, and Naveena's fists clenched painfully at their sides.

Reaver pulled the spire towards him, and Naveena was surprised to discover that it was no ordinary sculpture, but a lever instead. The spire fell, and Reaver stepped back. The fireplace shuddered, and suddenly the area beneath the fireplace collapsed, giving way to a small hollowed out copse, with a grate in the middle of it.

The way out was clear.

Sorry for the long wait!

Remember the spire sculpture in the previous chapter? It had significance.

Feedback is appreciated.