Authors Note: Sorry for the wait, my dears! I wanted to play through Fable 2 again and check some details before I posted the next few chapters. What can I say, I'm a slave for the little stuff :) As always, thank you for all the reviews and favorites! Gigi91, thanks for the Reaver love. Honestly, keeping him in character is my biggest concern and it's awesome to hear that he's not massively OoC! Celtycylist, peacock just fits, doesn't it :) I swear, those are the meanest, most vindictive birds I have ever seen, but the moment they spread their pretty feathers everyone "ohs" and "ahs" and forgets that these are the same glorified turkeys that just chased you to your car (and yes, I am speaking from experience). Onelove87, I'm glad your enjoying my little yarn and I promise I won't leave everyone hanging!
Disclaimer: Lionhead owns it all. *teardrop
In Which The Queen Is Reborn Anew
The first thing the Queen became conscious of was a cold, wet nose pressed against her cheek. Batting the offender away with her hand, she murmured, "Just a few more minutes, Prince." The sound of a low, female laugh echoing around her sent the Queen bolting upright, blinking at her surroundings.
She lay on a platform, suspended at the very top of the Spire. Enormous slitted gaps in the stone walls reveled great stretches of the star-filled night sky. Surrounding her were four smaller, circular platforms, connected to the main by stone walkways. Sitting directly in front of the Queen was the dog that had lead her on such a merry chase. He grinned at her, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth as he panted.
"Hello there, pooch." She said softly, scratching the scruffy fur of the mutts' head. "I hope you weren't expecting a treat." The Queen made as if to stand, then froze, staring in horror at the crystal sword, still clutched tightly in her other hand.
She raised the blade, examining it closely, searching for any hint of the dark presence she had struggled against earlier. Shadow and light played across the surface, swirling in the crystalline depths. The Queen shuddered as memories of scorching heat and boiling blood came racing through her mind.
"You have little to fear from that sword now, Queen." The familiar, time-worn voice spoke from behind. She rose to her feet, slowly turning to face Theresa. The Seer of the Spire smiled at the Queen, as unchanged by the ravages of time as the stone around her. "You have conquered the being trapped within the blade, and in doing so, been remade into something the world has not seen in countless centuries."
The Queen stared at her, shocked. "What are you talking about?" She asked, the first hint of panic rising in her voice. "See for yourself." Theresa replied, raising a ring covered hand. A curtain of liquid streamed down from the darkness above their heads, solidifying into a mirror-like sheet before the Queen.
Staring back from the mirror at her was a woman, utterly transformed, although still recognizably herself. She gasped, stepping forward to examine her reflection. Golden hair, now falling freely to her lower back, gleamed with tones of honey and apricot. Her skin, already pale, had become flawless and luminescent, as if her flesh could barely contain the radiance of her spirit.
But it was her eyes that truly stole her breath, driving all thoughts from her mind. The former light brown had metamorphosed to a brilliant rose-tinted amber, flecks of turquoise, amethyst and sapphire swirling in their depths. Her eyes now spoke of vast power and responsibility, and hinted at the sorrow and heartbreak that she had strove to bury away in the dark recesses of her soul.
"What have you done to me?" The Queen breathed, raising her free hand to rosebud lips, stifling the sob that threatened to burst free. "What have I become..."
Timon gently rotated the lock pick, smiling in satisfaction at the soft "click" that issued from the window's latch. Stowing the pick in the hidden pocket he had painstakingly stitched into the sleeve of his jacket, he quietly opened the window to Reaver's cabin and peered inside.
He was quite proud of himself for dreaming up this little idea, to pay the peacock back for blatantly searching through both his own belongings and those of his Queen. No one, not even the famous Reaver himself, would expect someone to edge along the narrow, decorative ledge that ran the length of the ship and jimmy the windows, entering from the outside.
It had taken every scrap of strength, courage and agility Timon had possessed to reach his goal, leaning precariously out over the dark water as he sidled along from the Queens room to Reavers. He was determined, however, to complete his self-appointed task, and with Reaver preoccupied above deck, now had seemed as good a time as any.
Easing slowly into the room, scanning the shadows for any hint of movement, Timon padded silently across the wooden floor. A quick, but thorough search of the various dressers and chests scattered throughout the room yielded nothing, and he soon turned his attention to the massive, ornately carved desk that stood in isolated splendor against the far wall.
Plopping down into the plush, high backed chair, Timon rummaged about the drawers, then pulled out his picks and set to work on the only one that was locked. It was a matter of moments to coax the tumblers free and, grinning broadly in triumph, he slid the drawer open. Inside rested several sheaves of loose paper, a small silver-backed photograph and a strange seal that seemed to taint the very air around it.
Silently apologizing to the Queen for all the trouble he had given her during the hours she had spent teaching him to read, he scanned through the documents. Standard contracts and petitions to the Queen met his eyes and he snorted softly, already envisioning her dismissing every single one.
Turning to the photograph, he flipped the cover up and nearly dropped it in surprise. His Queen's face stared up at him, a laughing smile spread across her face as she looked over her shoulder at the one taking the picture. She was younger, perhaps sixteen, and she did not bare the sorrow that now marked her so deeply. He had seen a similar miniature in the Portrait Gallery at the castle, but how and why Reaver had come to have one, Timon couldn't guess.
A small sound from outside the door sent Timon scrambling, replacing everything in the drawer exactly as it had been. Shutting it, he used a pick to trip the lock, the tumblers falling back into place. He was out of the chair and climbing out of the window in a heartbeat. He had just swung the panes shut and was sliding out of sight down the ledge when Ven appeared in the doorway.
Timon watched, peeking through the corner of the glass, as Ven prowled about the room, searching. He paused for a long moment, staring at the desk, a deep frown furrowing his brow. Timon swallowed, sweat breaking out on his skin as Ven turned, slowly examining the cabin. He barely dared to breath when Ven, taking a last look at the desk, stalked out of the room.
The Queen turned from the mirror and faced Theresa. "What have I become?" She repeated, jewel-like eyes imploring the Seer, begging to be told it was only a dream. Theresa shook her head, smile turning bittersweet. "You became what Albion needs you to be. To face the coming storm, you must be more than a Hero. Now, you are."
Theresa motioned with her hand and the mirror dissolved, turning into a sparkling vapor that slowly disappeared. Gesturing to the crystal weapon, she continued. "Only one other person has ever been able to wield the blade of the Shadow Queen. William Black, the first Archon, fought constantly to master her spirit, trapped inside her own sword at the very moment of her death."
The Queen stood mute, looking at the weapon as if it were a poisonous serpent. "What exactly are you saying?" She asked quietly, dread swelling in her heart as she guessed the truth. Theresa nodded once. "You already know the answer. You are one of that ancient race, the first new Archon to walk this land in time beyond measure. I have waited countless years for one of our bloodline to approach the threshold between Hero and Archon, to offer them the sword and give Albion a chance to finally purge the darkness that plagues her, once and for all."
Theresa watched as the Queen struggled to absorb what she had told her, emotions playing across her beautiful, eternally young face. Anger, fear and despair surfaced, vanishing as swiftly as they appeared, until only steely determination remained. She looked straight into Theresa's sightless eyes.
"What must I do?"
