Act I Part IX
The Parting Of Ways


Word spread quickly about the camp from soldiers writing home to their families, and the entire kingdom was in chaos within days. Sparrow was constantly interrogated – asked about what she planned to do and when – though she honestly had no idea. She supposed they could rush into battle before it was too late, but it seemed like the waste of a perfectly good army, and she was the only one capable of leading them into such a battle; it was sure to be a very bloody battle indeed.

Jasper knew how the queen was torn and he too felt unsure of the future. The queen frequented the old homestead to visit her daughter's grave and, though Garth only bothered to accompany her on occasion, Jasper always rode along with her. Upon the last visit, he went inside to make a small lunch as usual to leave her to her grief and came back to find her talking to herself. She was asking – begging – for guidance in tears. He had not been sure what to do. He'd stood and watched for a minute, hoping she did not see him, but the knot in his stomach forced him forward to comfort her, for which she was grateful.

She was up late most nights, now. After Garth had fallen asleep, she would get up and wander the gardens in her bedclothes, a long blanket wrapped around her. Some would say she looked somewhat like a ghost. And it wasn't the same grief that had taken over her before, though Garth liked to assume it was. No, Jasper knew that she was only scared. Like a child who'd had a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep.

This was partially true, he knew. Her dreams were plagued with visions of death and loss now. She was terrified; if she ended up doing the wrong thing, or if she waited too long while trying to figure out the right thing to do, there were far too many lives at stake here, and she didn't make one of these choices often. Perhaps once or twice, and she'd never had the luxury of mulling the choices over.

Garth had some new weaponry commissioned. The fort had been fit with mortars all along the walls to make the soldiers feel a bit better about the situation, if anything. He suggested taking these into battle. The battle would be well over before it even began, he said, and Sparrow liked the idea, though she found it a bit dishonourable of a tactic - not that she could say much about honour these days.

Yes, the queen was still being a bit of a spoiled brat. Or, so Jasper thought. She was acting out, rebelling against him. It wasn't that she wanted to seem so spoiled. No, she just wanted a little more attention. And not just from the butler, though she loved having him lose it. Garth had become so involved in the kingdom's matters that he had pretty well completely taken over the rule, not that Sparrow really cared. But he was always so busy with her job that he hardly payed her any mind most days unless she striped naked, and even then he somehow managed to ignore her on occasion. But Jasper found it amusing, at least.

Once or twice of late did she visit Reaver's mansion. She didn't actually see much of him, though, but she was more interested in Logan, it seemed. Jasper accompanied her wherever she went, so he knew her best, and what he knew was that the time she spent with her son was the time she seemed the happiest, and Logan seemed fairly pleased by her visits as well. And so did Reaver.

She told him all kinds of wild stories, and sat with him in the drawing room by the fire with him in her lap, sipping wine and gently caressing his head until he had fallen asleep. Reaver and Jasper would sit in the library and speak with one another. They liked each other more than they liked the king, this was certain. Not that Jasper didn't find him to be completely awful in every possible way, they just found each other to be more agreeable. Perhaps it was because - despite them both loving to be complete asses to most people - they constantly sought after what made her majesty most happy in the long run.

They spent hours drinking whiskey and complaining about how the king neglected her when they were in each others company. Sparrow found the whole thing very cute, if that was the word for it. She would listen, sometimes, to their long rants about how they knew best and how Garth was an idiot. On one occasion, the two got completely drunk and nearly woke poor Logan up with their drunken promises to her of how they'd make her happy and how the three should all just get married. That ended with Reaver kissing Jasper rather passionately. He denies it ever happening.

Sparrow gazed out the window and sighed softly, shaking her head. She turned to her butler who sat reading in his chair, ignoring her constant whining. It was something that pained him so, and took great practice, but he had finally mastered it. When she sighed a second time and he still didn't look up, she sighed a third time, far more heavily, and flopped down on the loveseat next to the window.

Without so much as looking up, Jasper asked rather sharply, "What?"

"Jasper..." She sighed again. "Jasper, I'm bored."

The butler set his book down, took a sip of his orange juice and just gave her a strange look. "You know, being queen and all, your majesty, you could be doing plenty of things right now; you could read a book, paint something, garden, eat a big meal even though you aren't hungry. You could... take a stroll through town and buy all sorts of things you don't need. You could go kill something, or you could, you know, attend to your duties as queen for the first time in weeks. You could maybe even try to decided on what to do about those bloody bandits that are threatening the lives of everyone in the kingdom."

"Jasper..." She stretched out on the couch. "Jasper, I want you shut your mouth and make me a sandwich."

Jasper sighed. "Go make yourself one; I'm too tired to deal with you today."

Sparrow gasped and shot him a dirty look that he didn't notice. "I will fire you if you don't, Jasper."

"Yes, yes, I know the drill. And I know you would never do such a thing because you would miss me to damn much." He looked up and smiled at her smugly, and she lost it. He watched as she slowly tore apart a pillow and scattered the hundreds of feathers all over the floor of the drawing room. "And you know I'm not cleaning that up."

The queen pursed her lips and fell back on the couch, hurt and annoyed. She turned on to her side away from the butler as tears filled her eyes. Her cries were silent and Jasper didn't even notice she was crying until she spoke. "I ought to start a war. We'll take out those stupid bandits and I'll lead the soldiers into battle, if that's what you want. Maybe I should just let myself get killed and then it would be your fault, you know, because you were mean."

"You're being a spoiled brat," Jasper said, though he felt bad for making her cry. "You sound like a small, spoiled child. And it wouldn't be my fault, because I never said you should go to war. I say it seems like a dangerous move, if anything."

"What would you do if I went to war, Jasper?"

"I wouldn't stop you, if that's what you're wondering."

Sparrow turned on to her back and starred at the ceiling. "Wouldn't you miss me?"

"Probably not; you're quite the pain, you know." After a moment of silence he continued, "You do realize I'm just joking, right?"

"Jasper..." She sighed and turned to look at him. "Jasper, am I going to have to go to war?"


Sparrow stood silently looking down at the earth bellow her. Jasper stood next to her, watching the queen intently as though he expected her to breakdown at any moment. Reaver on her other side, doing the same thing. Logan stood off to the side wrapped in his guardian's cloak watching Reaver, studying his face and smiling to himself. When the man noticed this, he looked at the boy and he, too smiled.

They were here to see her off.

Garth was inside sipping tea or something. He didn't like to be around Sparrow when she went to visit her late husband; it made him sad to see such pain brought to her lovely face. Funny, as everyone else felt the same yet were willing to stick by her side should she need to cry, making them wonder why he had even come if he wouldn't comfort her or spend that little extra time with her before she left with the troop of soldiers marching North.

"Are you sure you should be doing this, your majesty?" Jasper asked quietly, looking at the ground to try and hide the sorrow in his face. "You had really ought to stay here and let the soldiers handle it..." He looked back up at her, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she closed her eyes and continued facing the ground, moving her moist lips silently as though she were speaking to her husband's grave. "Sparrow, please-" This he said in unison with Reaver. The two looked at each other and shook their heads, one just as concerned as the other.

Logan didn't like Jasper. Reaver had taken a shine to him, for some reason or another, and Reaver didn't take a shine to too many people. This he knew. And he did not like it when he came to visit, but he supposed it was worth it to see his mother, and he knew that was who the two men would rather be spending their time with, which made him feel special enough to forgive Jasper for intruding his life so suddenly and so boldly.

"Shouldn't you be worrying about producing an heir?" Jasper ventured, regretting it almost immediately as she shot him a dirty look. He bowed his head and bit his lip. This made Logan smile.

"Logan is a fine enough heir, don't you think?"

The young bastard perked right up upon hearing this. He looked at his mother who smiled at him, and he felt a strange sort of warmth growing inside of him. Even when he turned to look at the ground, the feeling was still there. It made him itch and feel uncomfortable, yet happy at the same time. Sparrow had never said something like that before... that he could one day be king of Albion...

"I agree wholeheartedly, your majesty," Reaver said, bowing low before her. This made Sparrow both smile and want to smack him and tell him not to be such a kiss-ass, but she decided not to.

Jasper was staring at her, expressionlessly. It wasn't that he was horrified, or thought that it was a terrible idea. In fact, he was very in favour of the queen's new affection for her son. It just felt strange to him - when she had said that. Almost as though she'd said it was he who would one day be king. His heart had very nearly stopped. Perhaps he was just not used to seeing her behave herself and being so kind. Yes... that was it.

Sparrow's smile was kind and warm and the men around her stood and soaked it in slowly. It was as though the old Sparrow was coming back... as a smile. The Sparrow from before she was a spoiled, annoying, needy brat, Jasper thought. The butler still couldn't hate the new Sparrow, though, for some reason or another. That didn't mean he didn't prefer the old one - the Sparrow he had first met. And Reaver certainly enjoyed it too. Sure, the new Sparrow was more like him - but he didn't like that.

Logan stumbled forward and looked up at her. He very slowly and very awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. Sparrow did the same, and Logan very nearly started to cry. Jasper thought he might do so as well.

The boy wasn't so much of a boy anymore. He was growing up. And he had grown quite tall already, for thirteen. Nearly fourteen, now, he was nearly as tall as his mother, who was fairly tall herself. His body was gangly and awkward still, but his shoulders were fine and broad already - and he had plenty of muscle on him. Reaver seemed please by that, at least, even if he still teased him for his height; he might never reach his height.

"Thank-you, mother," Logan said softly. "I won't let you down."

"I know, Logan. I know."

Garth, who was watching from the window, scowled and sipped his tea quietly. He still didn't like the boy all that much. But he liked his wife going off on this crusade even less. She was going to get herself killed, he thought, for sure. He assured himself she was an experienced hero - strong and quick and strategic. That didn't mean she was allowed to go around putting the lives of young men at risk, too. Surely she would draw the line at her own.

A small troupe of soldiers was drawing near the house, and Sparrow turned her head to look at them. Her face sank and her stomach flopped. She pulled away from the hug and kissed her son on his cheek fairly fiercely and turned to Reaver. He in turn stepped forward and gazed at his feet, trying to tell himself she would be just fine while she was away, but he feared the worse.

No, he wasn't usually one to worry, but he certainly cared for the woman and didn't really wished to see her dead, even if that meant she could no longer belong to Garth - no matter how sweet that would taste. Yes, he would think of her every day and he would worry anyway. When he met her calm eyes with his own cold, green ones, he suddenly felt a thousand times better. Logan had the same eyes - warm, brown, beautiful and filled with the same brilliant spirit. The two were very alike, so he had faith in them both; he knew them both so differently, yet the same.

Tears came to her eyes swiftly, but she held their gaze. "Are you going to hug me, you silly bastard?" she asked quietly, her voice faltering. Reaver managed to hold his stony expression but decided it best not try to speak for fear of his voice giving him away. He instead nodded and stepped forward to meet her as she lurched forward and began crying into his shoulder softly as he held the body he knew was strong yet felt so weak at the time.

Jasper watched quietly, biting the inside of his cheek until it bled. He, too, refused to cry. Seeing the heir long-past caving in, he placed a hand gentle on the boy's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Logan looked at him, and the man smiled down at him. Logan reluctantly smiled back, and relaxed into the touch slowly, almost enjoying the warmth of the man's gentle fingertips stroke his shoulder gently. It felt... homely.

Sparrow soon felt detached from her body - like she was floating in the warmth that was Reaver. She wished so desperately never to leave his arms ever again until he whispered softly, "I love you."

"I know," she whispered back. She opened her eyes slowly, and noticed Garth walking towards them. She managed to pull herself away and rushed to meet him.

"You don't have to go, Sparrow," he said firmly, wrapping his strong arms around her slowly.

She closed her eyes and embraced him tightly. "No; I need to." She kissed her husband sweetly on the lips and looked at him fondly. He pursed his lips and looked away. "I will return swiftly and safely. This is just something that I need to do." When he still said nothing, she touched his face and whispered, "I love you."

"I know," he said, stepping away and quickly disappearing into the house.

And then there remained only one.

The butler stood, watching her as she turned her gaze to the ground clenched her fist, exhaling. Still not looking at him, she called out, "Ser Cuthbert, would you please escort me to the carriage?" This made him smile. When he got to her side and offered his arm to her, she looked at him and smiled too.

They walked the thirty yards or so very slowly. It felt like nearly an eternity. Half-way Sparrow rested her head on her servant's sturdy shoulder, and he in turn rested his own head on top of hers.

"Now, I suppose you'll be taking a vacation, then," she said casually.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to serve anyone else," he replied.

"And you'll stay here, I take it?" She thought about this for a second and continued, "No, no, I insist."

"And you'll come see me first, I take it?" He paused as she had before continuing, "No, no, I insist."

She laughed and nodded. "As long as you're willing to wait for me," she said softly.

Jasper looked at her as though she had offended him. "Well madam, I thought it was clear that I would always be willing to wait for you. However long you needed to be waited upon."

Having reached their destination, he took her cold hand and bowed down to kiss it softly, winking up at her. The waiting troupe of soldiers looked at him, and he looked back. "Take good care of her, boys," he called to them all, waving casually. She laughed as he stalked away in a very exaggerated fashion.

The queen turned to Walter Beck, who opened the door for her and helped her up and followed behind. He sat down next to her. Across from them was Swift and Mourningwood. She looked them all over once and smiled brightly at them. "Men, we are what a good man would call 'fucked', and as my late husband would say, 'balls to it all'."

"'Balls to it all'," Walter repeated, smiling. "Balls indeed."


Reaver and Logan sat in the drawing room, alone, by the dying fire. They had arrived back late, and it was nearly Midnight, but Logan wouldn't even begin to think about sleeping. The older man was thinking to himself about Sparrow's response. The boy was studying his guardian quietly, sinking into his armchair and sipping at his watered down brandy.

The hero of skill had changed lately. His hair was unkempt, his clothes wrinkled and there was a distinct stumble growing along his strong jaw. He had also noticed he didn't sleep as much, either. Instead, he would come in and sit on the chair in Logan's room, and watch him as the boy would pretend to sleep, not knowing that the boy, too, had trouble sleeping. And he didn't have any parties, let alone guests in the bedroom. It made Logan worry.

His green eyes starred into the glowing embers of the fire, looking almost lifeless and sad. Logan got up slowly but the man didn't notice or move as he walked toward him.

He put himself between his guardian and the fire and looked down at him. Reaver's eyes finally met his and twinkled in his otherwise lifeless face. The heir bent down so their eyes were level and cocked his head to one side. "You know she'll be fine," he said warmly. Reaver finally turned his head so he could look at him properly. "This is just fun for her. A harmless affair, if you will. Except with war."

Reaver smiled half-heatedly and laughed soundlessly. The boy reminded him so much of Sparrow, yet he was so different in the most perfect of ways. "I love you," he said, very nearly breathlessly.

"I know." Logan smiled.

Closing his eyes, Reaver reached out slowly and touched the smooth, pale skin of the boy's jaw. Logan remained still as his thumb traced the bone lightly down to his chin, then took the hand in his own and brought it up to his lips so he could kiss it. Reaver opened his eyes.

Logan leaned in very, very slowly, watching his guardian carefully, until their lips were inches apart, but ducked out of Reaver's attempt at kissing him and instead found the man's jaw with his scarred lips, just below the ear. He left a trail of kisses down his neck. Reaver tried to protest as the young man climbed into the chair and straddled him, but he looked at him so sweetly that he could deny him nothing.

His hands reached his shoulders and felt them; worked them. "You're so tense," he said sadly. "You ought to do something about that, master," he practically purred. Reaver frowned and turned away, trying to get the boy off of him.

"It's time to go to bed," he said. The boy just chuckled and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"What's wrong with right here?" he asked.

"Go to bed, Logan."

Something about the firmness in Reaver's voice made Logan jump. His face drained of colour and the smile instantly faded from his young face. He fell backwards onto the floor and looked at him in what Reaver thought must be fear. Logan scrambled both backward and to his feet. "What's wrong with you?"

"Is it a game for you? To take my love and make it some child's game? Is it funny for you?" Reaver was on his feet, now, too, and was yelling at the trembling boy.

After stuttering hopelessly for a few moments, Logan finally managed to reply. "N-no! You know very well that I feel just the same way for you, you horrid old man! But I guess it would be easier for you if it was just a game because you don't even know how to love!"

"You're just like your mother," Reaver roared. "A succubus whore!"

They were both crying, now. Reaver couldn't even remember the last time he had cried, and he could remember why he usually avoided it. He wanted to desperately to both smack the boy senseless and to hold him tightly until they had both stopped the dreaded waterworks.

"Oh really? Well then, let's take a look at what you've done to the only people you've ever loved, shall we?" Logan was very apparently angry at this point. "You had the first one brutally killed for the sake of your youth. Yes, WELL DONE." He sputtered a bit of incoherent, sobbing nonsense before continuing. "You drove the woman you loved into the arms of the man who had already destroyed her once, AND THEN you dragged her into an extra-marital affair that nearly tore her apart inside, then you keep insisting you love her when she already has a hard enough time staying away from you. WAY-TO-GO."

After a moment of silence filled with awkward sobbing, Reaver finally said, "And then there's you."

"And then there's me." Logan almost smiled at this. "You said you would look after me and protect me, Reaver. Instead, you used me as some weak replacement for my mother. You had me preforming oral sex on you before I knew what it was. I never stood a chance. That, I think, deserves a round of applause." He clapped for a while, staring his guardian down. "You then proceeded to turn me into a bundle of broken nerves and insecurities as well as a murderer. ABSO-BLOODY-LUTELY FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!" he screeched at the top of his lungs.

He looked at him, managing to keep his crying under control, though Reaver had no such luck. Logan actually smiled. "You say I'm too much like my mother. But I think the problem for you is that I'm not enough like her." Within seconds he had disappeared through the doorway and was running for his room, leaving a heavily sobbing Reaver behind him. The man fell to his knees and continued shaking violently.

Once in his room, Logan let the anger take over and forgot about suppressing his tears. He stumbled along the wall, knocking over a table and vase on the way to the bathroom adjacent to the room. After studying his reflection in the mirror for sometime, he began to look over the difference between himself and Sparrow - things that he had inherited from his father.

His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken, where Sparrow's were pronounce and beautiful. His hair was thin and straight; hers was thick and curly and wonderful. He was skinny and sorry to look at. Then, there was the scar on his lip from his fight with Rose. He felt it gingerly, then felt the reflection.

Without another thought, his fist was through the glass on the wall. His knuckles oozed scarlet and it stung horribly, but was numbed by his slight alcohol intake. And soon enough, the same fist was right through the glass of the window Reaver made sure to keep locked and closed.

After covering his new wounds with a towel, he squeezed his way out of the small opening and was soon climbing down the tall hedge that grew in front of the window. As soon as his feet were on the ground, he took off sprinting to get his horse. He mounted it quickly and was off down the road.

He would have to go find the closest thing to home he had other than the man who had broken his heart. Yes, he would go and stay with Jasper, because he certainly couldn't go to Garth.