"Your Majesty, can you believe this?"
No, she really couldn't. Raven stood, in the green velvet decadence of the royal treasury, her mouth falling open in a very unladylike gesture but she didn't care. Her expression was an awkward mixture of shock and disbelief, as if she couldn't quite believe the impossibility that lay before her eyes. For where once the treasury had stood barren and aching, the shadow of doom and bloody death hanging over them all, there now stood a verifiable mountain of glorious, glittering gold stretching so high that it brushed the domed ceiling. Beside the young monarch her two faithful companions looked on with the same expression she wore, Jasper having been the one who exclaimed and Walter looking like a little boy who had just been handed his weight in candy.
Raven had the absurd urge to jump into the colossal mass of gold and roll around in it like Rebel was so fond of doing to any mud he could find. Maybe she would do that when everyone else was asleep though, just in case…
"Wha-Whe-Who-," She stuttered instead, her mouth disconnected from her mouth by the pure shock of the moment. Taking a deep breath, the young hero tried again, "How?"
Raven didn't know who she was asking the question of, didn't particularly care either, but she was glad when it was Jasper who answered, not the lurking shadow in the corner of the room she refused to acknowledge just yet.
"I'm not quite sure, it was already here when I came to open the treasury doors for the maids, ah here it is-" Jasper explained, producing a pair of tiny reading glasses from his coat pocket and sliding them up his nose as he stepped forward to read from the record book, "7 million gold, received around late last night, donator anonymous."
"Anonymous…" Raven hissed, bordering on the edges of hysteria, wondering if her staff was made up of complete fools because surely someone would have thought to at least get the name of the person who had so graciously given them 7 million gold and effectively saved the kingdom from imminent destruction. But thinking would have required someone having a brain bigger than a peanut wouldn't it? Oh dear, she was going to have a panic attack at this rate.
"Funny how that works," Came the drawling comment from the back corner of the treasury and Rave turned, begrudgingly, to acknowledge Reaver as he leaned cross-legged against the wall and idly inspected his pristine white gloves for marks. She couldn't see his face underneath the shadow of his top hat but the young monarch could imagine with startling clarity the smug smirk and leering emerald eyes that were no doubt fixed on her at that moment. A trickling of dread pooled into Raven's stomach as the entirety of the situation hit her like a stone wall, all shock she had held before giving way to horror, cold, terrifying horror that slammed against the protection of her heart with all the force it could muster.
"Yes, quite," Walter remarked, half-aware, having joined Jasper at the lectern and was now frowning down at the pages of the record book as if by doing so he could glean some piece of information the others could not see, stroking his grizzly grey beard in thought.
Raven caught Reaver's eyes then, the noose around her neck tightening until she could just barely breathe, forest green against sultry brown as all the words that would go unsaid stretched before them like an ocean of regret and misery waiting to snap her up if she made one wrong move, took one wrong step. She was his now, the glinting of gold out of the corner of her eye one more chain shackled to her wrists, till death do them part, whether she liked it or not. It was rather romantic wasn't it?
Nobody knew but them the deal she had made when the clock had struck midnight and she had signed away her life by candlelight. They didn't know that at night, when all was still, that the tears would fall unbidden from weary eyes as she envisioned the aching misery of eternity stretching out before her with no end in sight and she had revered the pistol in her hands like one would revere a God. They didn't know that for all the brave fronts she put up she would gladly hand over the kingdom to the next person that offered to take it, but she was too prideful to even consider doing so and pride always goeth before the fall. How very far she had climbed on vines that broke like time around her, and how very far the bottom was below for her. She couldn't fall, just like she couldn't fail when she had led her little rebellion.
There may be no peaceful existence for the Rebel Queen, only words like knives and emerald eyes, but her trials had made her the person she was today, strong and kind and if the world was crashing down around her then she would be the one thing that would not break. She could do this.
For Albion, she could do this.
And for herself, she could do this.
XXX
"Any other challengers?" Raven called to the group of soldiers assembled before her, panting lightly as she wiped a thin layer of sweat from her brow and blew the remnants of smoke from the barrel of her pistol. The sun was beating down on the small congregation, gathered in the back gardens of the castle around the training ground, and the intoxicating scent of roses and marigolds was in the air. The young queen had decided to work out her frustrations with an impromptu tournament, her fighting skills were getting rusty anyway and Raven wanted the strain of muscles and the delicious pain to distract her from the weight on her shoulders. It was a fine day, the beginnings of summer a welcome relief to the endless days of snow and rain that had the entirety of Albion in a rather dour mood, and the young hero couldn't bear to stay inside any longer.
The men before her glanced at each other wearily; apparently finally picking up that their Queen was not herself that fine afternoon, as if willing the other to decline the offer. They were all panting and pink-skinned, having discarded their shirts long ago, drenched with sweat and Raven knew that somewhere in the castle Rory had her nose pressed to the glass and was looking on admiringly but that wasn't the point. She needed to blow off steam, urgently, and so far none of the soldiers had been able to even keep up with her. Raven was beginning to get annoyed.
Thankfully the Guard Captain spoke up for the boys, having joined the little group some time ago after investigating the sudden disappearance of all his men, before any of them could brown their trousers at the mere thought of having to speak to their monarch, " 'm sorry, Your Majesty, but these lads best be getting back to patrolling."
Raven simply nodded in ascent, suddenly too weary to care as the adrenaline of the moment wore off, and feeling rather foolish at not having realized that fact before. She also felt the tiniest bit guilty that she had scared the soldiers, how could she expect these men to die for a Queen they were afraid of?
They don't have to die now do they? The thought was decidedly bitter.
But as the group cleared out, albeit almost hesitantly might she add, there was one who stayed, watching the spectacle with an odd sense of amusement. Raven sighed, turning to face Reaver who was sitting on the stone fence with one leg crossed over the other and his hands folded over the top of the top hat in his lap.
"Bravo, my dear, I have seen grown men quiver quite so much before. There is nothing like a bit of fear and doom with your afternoon, I say," He applauded, clapping his hands together slowly, deliberately and causing that one nerve of annoyance reserved in her heart just for him to flare angrily.
"Still here I see," She muttered, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest, "What do you want?"
Reaver stood up, brushing non-existent flecks of dirt from his clothes and if Raven didn't know any better she would have pinned him as being nervous but that was preposterous because it was Reaver, and declared, "I will be your opponent, my dear, I find myself with nothing better to do anyway,"
Raven was about to protest, because nothing in the entire world could ever force her to voluntarily engage in anything with Reaver, but then she remembered, with a heavy heart, that she had forced herself into the very same thing she swore she wouldn't. And what did it matter, she was stuck with him until she died (there was no way she could ever pay off her debt), she may as well make it at least tolerable and she wasn't helping anyone by being rude and ignoring him at every corner. The young queen was not the type of person who would ignore her problems and hoped they go away; she was way too stubborn for that.
So instead the young hero slumped in defeat as her silent war was won, and gestured toward the firing range with one lazy hand, "Fine, but no cheating,"
Reaver chuckled, brushing past her, and stated, "It is not a game if no-one cheats,"
She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at his back when he wasn't looking and felt supremely triumphant when she sauntered after him all cool and calm and acting like she wasn't the tiniest bit childish. She didn't see the soft smirk that stretched his thin lips.
XXX
"That aim is horrible, mon Corbeau, who taught you too shoot?" Reaver scoffed from his perch behind Raven. The young queen's ears were ringing, what seemed like hours of gunshot cracks rattling her skull, and she tasted smoke and gunpowder every time she inhaled. She couldn't quite remember the last time that she had felt so drained, any other sane person would have sworn off any form of combat whatsoever after what she had gone through, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with hollow-men and Mourningwood Fort and silly conversations about moustache-twirling with Ben. Raven had never felt as alive as she did when there was a gun in her hands and the roar of will in her veins.
Still there was nothing like "constructive criticism" from the one and only deviant to bring a girl's mood down.
Raven glared at him over her shoulder, the malicious part of her taking great pleasure in what she said next, "You did."
"Blasphemy!" He cried bringing a hand up to cover his wounded heart, scandalised, looking for all the word that she had just announced that she was going to become a nun and live a life of chastity. Raven couldn't help but snort in amusement, the expression on his face worth all her pride and then some.
"You did," She repeated, spinning around to face him, "When I was a little girl. I picked the rest up on my own,"
The young hero allowed herself an indulgent half-smile as remembrance and shock flickered in emerald eyes as her words sank in. Raven was remembering a little girl with red cheeks and puffy eyes hiding in the private gardens reserved for only the Queen and her children, crying, because Logan wouldn't let her play with the toy gun he had gotten for his name-day, and Reaver who had discovered her, much to the annoyance of her five-year-old brain who was firm in her belief that secret places were meant to stay secret, and in a fit of she-didn't-know-what had patted her on the head and let her hold his precious Dragonstomper, teaching her how all the components worked and the proper stance for firing. Her mother had been most amused, and understandably sceptical, when she had burst through the throne room doors and told her all about her new skill.
Raven suddenly find herself longing and wishing that little girl still lived, that she hadn't grown up into what she was today, but that girl was trapped in the cage of time and existed only in the realm of memories and dreams.
The young queen was just turning back to the shooting rage, a rather ragged and sad-looking straw doll waiting for her at the opposite end, when strong, white clad arms appeared on either side of her and closed around the grip of her gun, overlapping her own hands and forcing her into a decent position.
"Then allow me to correct your mistakes, ma Cherie," Reaver purred into her ear, tickling the fine hairs on her neck, and Raven couldn't help the way her breath hitched and her body stiffened against his. But with startling trepidation the young hero realized that her body's reactions were not because she was afraid of him like she had thought, because if she was afraid of him like any sane person would be then why would that tingling in her lower stomach bloom again when she noticed that his hands were so much bigger than hers and so warm.
I'm not afraid of him? She mused in her head as his finger closed over hers and forced her to fire a shot, the bullet causing the straw dolls head to rip off with alarming accuracy, when did that happen?
The Rebel Queen had never claimed to be anything close to sane, and now that was becoming more apparent by the second because, just maybe, she did like Reaver the teeniest tiniest bit. He was still an arse, and the most heartless person she had ever met, not to mention psychotic, but he was a curious thing and the mysteries of the world had always intrigued Raven. Plus, he was always fun to annoy. But still an arse. And way too trigger-happy.
"One would think that suddenly acquiring a kingdoms worth of gold would be cause for celebration, no?" Reaver commented as half an hour passed in silence and Raven was silently wondering if her head injuries had not been as bad as they thought, "Maybe even just an orgy? I'm sure this poor fellow would appreciate a break,"
Raven choked on her saliva at his comment, blanching violently and coughing up what seemed like the entire contents of her stomach for a moment before managing to get out, "One would be celebrating if one didn't have to put up with you for the rest of time,"
He chuckled against her neck, ignoring her reply, brushing her chocolate braid over one shoulder with long fingers, as he arrogantly said, "Come my dear, you make me sound like the worst company in the world. You could do much, much worse, trust me,"
"I could much, much better too," Raven snorted in derision, producing a small silk bag of bullets from her coat pocket to refill her pistol but before she could she suddenly found herself face to face with a smirking Reaver, one slender ink eyebrow raised in surprise.
"Impossible."
Raven brushed his comment aside with a mocking snort and a roll of brown doe eyes, before catching his gaze with a coy grin and just the faintest hint of eyelash batting, "Why Ser, you sound like you're worried about me. What happened to Reaver looks out only for Reaver?"
If it had been anyone else Raven would have been surprised when she felt the biting sting of cold steel pressed against her temple, the glint of polished red enamel in the sunlight sparkling in the corner of her eye, but as it was the young hero simply sighed, shaking her head at the pair of nobles who stopped to observe the scene with ashen faces, and stated, "You're no fun,"
"Au Contraire, ma Cherie, I think you'll find I'm quite entertaining," Reaver purred, finger pressed to the trigger of his Dragonstomper, and cocked his head to the side watching her reaction with sealed off eyes. Raven had the sensation of being inspected, like a specimen trapped in a glass jar as people crowded around to gawk at it. She didn't like the feeling.
"If you weren't you, I would have already blown your brain outs simply for insolence," He stated, twirling a lock of chocolate brow curls around one slender finger. Raven noted that sometime during their little "talk" he had removed his gloves.
"And what difference does who I am make?" Raven asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer but damn sure not about to let him know that. The euphoria of her earlier tournament was still rushing through her veins, making her bolder than she usually would be.
"Not much," Reaver admitted with a smug grin when he face fell for the slightest second, "But for now you are more use to me alive than dead, as fun as killing the Rebel Queen would be,"
A chill slipped down the young hero's spine at his words, so cold yet she knew they were true, wincing at the way that realization stung, before asking, "And when I am no use to you?"
He stepped back, an unkind smile stretching his thin lips and enhancing the angles of his face where this would have made other men ugly and twisted it only served to make him more handsome, as he simply said, "We shall see, won't we, mon Corbeau?"
And then Reaver was holstering his precious pistol and walking away, turning his back on the only half-shocked young queen.
But Raven was hyped-up and itching for action and feeling the sudden urge for violence and beyond anything else she was angry, his words having cut deeper than she would have liked or ever cared to admit. The little girl she had been may have gone, but in her place was a woman who had been forged in the fires of hell and carved by the double-edged sword of betrayal and deceit. And that woman was stronger than anyone had ever thought she could be, including herself.
So Raven reached out and caught Reaver by his forearm, pulling him back with her hero-blood enhanced strength, and in one swift motion stood on her tippy toes, reached around his neck to thread her fingers through the silk black fur of his collar, and pressed her lips to his. She didn't care that there was a collective gasp to the crowd of simpering nobles around her, didn't care that she was pressed so close to Reaver that they simply couldn't get any more melded with clothes on. Raven wanted to be stupid and reckless, and free, and, and, he tasted like expensive wine and cigars and his lips moulded perfectly to hers and she didn't even shiver as his hands slid down her sides from the curve of her breast to settle on her hips. She spun them around so she was leaning against his chest and he against the rickety fence surrounding the training ground, hooking one arm behind his head and using her free hand to run through ink black curls and transport the signature tophat from his head to hers. The young hero didn't hesitate when a tongue flicked against her lips, gasping and admitting it entry when a leg pushed between her own two.
Raven's mind was a haze of desire and with every movement or sound sent ripples of fire and pleasure coursing through her body, unforgiving and begging her just to give in. But she had started this impromptu plan with revenge in mind and she had not come so far only to give in just because Reaver was kissing her neck and he was incredibly talented at this and oh right there.
I can do this, She repeated in her mind over and over to dispel the fog, but it was like running through water and it took all her concentration.
Reaver was so distracted by the sudden, and not altogether unwanted, turn of events that he didn't see the Rebel Queen's hand free itself from the confines of his hair and make its way to the juncture of his legs, didn't see the dangerous entity of fire flickering from her fingertips, ready and waiting to consume its target. A sick sort of satisfaction filled Raven as she released the spell and watched Reaver's eyes widen in shock, staring at her like she was a foreign entity for a second, before he crumpled to the ground with a loud groan that sounded halfway between hysterical laughter and pure agony.
Mission accomplished.
"I always get the last laugh," Raven murmured into his ear, leaning down and keeping one hand on the Dragonstomper strapped to his thigh at all times, before smiling and giggling, "And I'll be keeping this,"
And with that she spun on a booted heel and walked away with her head held high in the air and a swagger in her hips that no-one had seen in Albion for a very long time, a bubble of pure elation bursting open in her chest and she couldn't help but grin when she was safely away from the crowd, and out of range of Reaver's temper, and making her way up to the castle. From the doorway to the servant's quarters Rebel bounded out, having been mysteriously missing for the duration of the day (hiding, no doubt), a ball of monochrome fur and speed, with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging happily and he barked when Raven caught up to him and placed a hand on his furry head. If dogs could laugh then Raven swore that Rebel would have been rolling around on the floor in stitches.
But then her companion looked at her with those sad puppy eyes that seemed so much more infinite and wise then anyone she had ever met, and Raven groaned, the consequences of her actions running through her mind in a tidal wave and the headgear she now sported seeming suddenly heavier. Somehow she still couldn't quite bring herself to regret it.
"I know," The Rebel Queen sighed when her dog whined in response, "But not now."
Raven was playing with fire, a child taunting a beast so much colder and so much older than she was and what she thought he was, and she was certain that one day she would be burned for good, and maybe this time she wouldn't recover. But not tonight. She wouldn't worry about that tonight. That night she was free, and happy, and for once she didn't wonder what became of the little girl that Reaver had found crying in the garden.
I can do this.
A/N: I'm Baaaacccckkkk~! I've decided I like feisty Raven and can anyone say goodness gracious great balls of fire? After many a month of hair pulling and plot-destroying (*Cough* and Xbox Playing *Cough*) and rewriting this chapter is finally done and I am happy with it. Touch wood. Anyway, forgiveness for the wait plz? If anyone's been wondering I have been working on an original fiction up on fictionpress (link in my profile) which is part of the reason this chapter's been so delayed (nasty little thing inspiration can be) and I've also been trying to incorporate some new writing styles into my own so hopefully this chapter doesn't suck (Please tell me if it does~!). Thanks so much to those who reviewed, favourited and story alerted, you guys keep me going and please keep them coming! (32 Reviews, omgawesomesauceIloveyouguys~!)
