'Closer, My Darling'

Authors Note: Sorry for the absurdly long waiting period between chapters. I've had some things to take care of this week, and haven't been able to wholeheartedly write. I feel it's only fair that I put all of my energy into what I write. Either way, I was listening to a particular playlist I had on my iPod, and I realized just how much Reaver reminds me slightly of Adam Ant, especially in his song "Stand and Deliver". Made me chuckle to myself, confusing those around me since apparently it was audible laughter. Anyways, I'm still boating in uncharted waters right now, and I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to take this in the short run. I'm just going to write and see what happens.

'You've got to make me an offer that cannot be ignored
So let's head for home now, everything I'll have is yours
Step by step and day by day, every second counts I can't break away
Full of desire
Temptation
Keep climbing higher and higher
Temptation '

The rest of the party passed uneventfully. She spent several moments talking with her brother Logan about the state of the kingdom and other royal small talk before deciding to head home early. Ben somehow stumbled his way to her at the front gates with two young women around his arms as she awaited her carriage home. He could barely formulate speech, not that the Queen could have heard it between the relentless giggling of his arm candy. She felt he mumbled something about having an absolutely fantastic time and needing to attend Reaver's 'soirias' more often, absolutely butchering the french accent. She gave him a hard tap on the back and wished him luck with his coin purse and on finding a way home.

When she arrived at Bowerstone Castle, she collapsed into bed, hardly speaking a word to anyone before making her way to her chambers. The answers she gave were automatic and unpersonalized, as she was too out of steam to be able to formulate full sentences as she came nearer to her royal chambers . She slept in full dress, far too exhausted to fuss with her attire to remove it. When she finally crawled under the sheets, she could only guess that it was shortly after 4 am and she did not awake until 3 pm the following day.

The days surrounding the party passed without incident. She attended to her basic royal duties, returned letters to delegates and concerned citizens and held meetings with her royal advisers to go over matters of recent attention. Although she went through the motions of her daily life, she couldn't move her mind from her refugee brother in Millfields. Surely she would have received a letter from someone if something had gone wrong? She took the lack of activity as a sign of good will.

It would be nearly half a week before she received any news from the estate or her brother. She she arrived home from court one day to find a small stack of letters placed upon her desk, one separated slightly from the rest. Recognizing the gilded seal, she immediately ripped the letter open, blatantly ignoring the letter opener that was always strategically placed inside the war room desk drawer. The contents of the envelope consisted of two pages and two very clearly different hand writing styles. Seraphina felt her heart flutter in her chest, recognizing the second page's handwriting as her own dear brother's.

Eying the first page, she also recognized the grandiose handwriting as Reavers. It was a rather long letter, as was fit to his usual delusion that everyone else enjoyed hearing his opinions just as much as he did. She quickly began scanning the first page over, resisting the urge to simply chuck it to the wind.

'My Dearest Queen,

I have done my utmost to uphold our little agreement. I have your brother safely tucked away in the innards of my estate, and I assure you that he is being rather well taken care of. I do, of course, find his refusal to join my little 'gatherings' rather off putting. The man simply denies himself any form of enjoyment. Being the fine host that I am, I even brought some company purely for his pleasure, yet he refused, which I personally found rather rude. Fret not, however. I assure you, nothing went to waste.

Despite my numerous attempts at explaining just how unsafe it is for you two to correspond outside of my property and imploring him not to, he simply insisted upon writing to you. I do believe he rather longs for your presence, not that he can be blamed. Even the most seasoned of sailors and the most optimistic of travelers becomes weary in the absence of the sun's radiance, or in this case, the sullen shadow of a former king.

I assure you that my manor is open to you day or night at your whim, but I do believe it most prompt that we set a designated date for you two to hold your family reunion, seeing as I have noticed a larger number of vagrants and ruffians around my property that I can only assume are spies for this 'conspiracy' your brother is absolutely convinced is taking place, although I myself find him slightly 'off his hinges', if you will. I have had them dispatched of either way.

You will find his letter attached to the back of this one, as you have no doubt noticed. Respond when you find most appropriate. My manor is always at your disposal, your Majesty.

Although, should you wish to make a more 'personal' surprise visit, I assure you I would be absolutely nothing but accommodating.

I do so love surprises,

Reaver'

"Oh, spare me." She shoved his letter into a randomly picked drawer, simply wishing it out of her sight. She picked up Logan's letter and carefully spread it on the desk before reading.

'Sister,

I still cannot come to comprehend or fully show my appreciation for what you have done for me. You have put your own safety on the line, and for this, I cannot thank you enough. I dare say I am deserved of my fate, yet it does not make it any easier to accept. I can't bring myself to blame the people of Albion for despising me after all the suffering I have caused.

I only wish the safest place in Albion was somewhere a little more... solitary. I knew Reaver was a man of many vices and debaucheries when I allowed him into court, yet it seems I didn't know quite the extent of his hedonism. They say you cannot fully know a man until you know what happens behind closed doors. I'm not entirely sure I agree with that saying any longer, as plenty here takes place out in the open.

I realize I should not question his 'kindness' in this dark time, but I can't help but feel he has an ulterior motive. Once placing Reaver in charge of industry, I quickly came to realize that he is a man who does little unless he comes to see personal gain from it, although I cannot fathom what that might be. I ask you to tread carefully around him. I am only more stern in my distrust of him since taking shelter here, as I have seen the type of devious behavior that he exhibits.

In my spare time, I have begun research into more virtuous places to seek asylum. I have little worth looking into at this time, but I pray my efforts will not be in vain. I have the strangest feeling in my stomach that the sooner we remove Reaver's presence from our personal lives, the safer we are to be. He is a man of many faces, and likely to switch allegiances on a whim. This fact makes me nervous.

As for now, it appears I have no choice but to trust him and his judgment, although the thought sickens me. I never for a moment guessed when I sat upon the throne of Albion that my fate would one day rest in the gloved hands of this narcissistic sycophant. I take solace in the nights that I might tread his gardens without company in the light of the silver moon and think of home, and cling to the shred of hope that one day I might return to the castle, and to you.

We must speak in person soon. I realize by requesting this, I am placing your life in his hands,and I must ask your forgiveness for this. Reaver speaks of you often and 'fondly', enough so that I must swear he does it solely to arouse my anger. The sooner I find my way out of this mess, the sooner I can rest easier knowing that you are sleeping soundly at night with no danger or manner of discomfort plaguing your dreams.

I hope to receive word from you soon, and gaze upon you sooner. I dare say you are the only mortal thread holding me to this world.

Your Brother,

Logan'

She stared at the page for a moment before fumbling in her drawers for a quill and sufficient paper to reply. The thought of adjourning to Reaver's home of her own free will did indeed unsettle her stomach slightly, but she reminded herself of what hung in the balance. Logan was indeed right. The longer he stayed hidden away at Reaver's mercy, the more likely the man was to twist the deal and his allegiances on a whim. In was in both of their best interests to remove themselves from the situation. Yet, it seemed that Reaver was a sticky man, and was always able to worm his way back in. She had counted on the day of the ball being her last real encounter with him besides required court customs, but it just so happened another situation arose where his presence was required, although not desired.

As she placed the quill to the paper, she was careful to code what she wrote, knowing full well that Reaver was self-important enough to read letters although they were addressed to someone else entirely. He would no doubt read the letter himself before second handing it to her brother.

'Brother,

I agree with your observations wholeheartedly. It is best that we speak in person, for fear that this letter may be intercepted. I shall make arrangements to travel there on the morrow evening. I shall do my best to make sure I am not followed or escorted. I trust Reaver has a stable of sorts, or at the very least, somewhere to comfortably house a horse. Simply return this letter to confirm, marking it with Reaver's seal. Servant nor butler alike will lay a hand on an envelope that bears that seal. Our plans should be safe and entirely discreet for now.

Seraphina

P.S. Reaver, as you saw fit to read this letter, I have decided to not send you one of your own. Perhaps you should keep your prying eyes for underneath a courtesans dress instead of using them for letters that aren't meant for you.'

Reaver smirked devilishly down at the letter placed on the desk before him, licking his lips playfully as he read the final sentences. Logan tapped his foot impatiently on the hardwood floor as he sat in one of several divans that graced Reaver's study anterior to his desk. The light from the massive marble fireplace reflected heavily upon Logan's sharp features, exaggerating his already pointed impatience as he noted Reaver's reaction to the letter. His arms were crossed over his chest and he tapped his finger angrily on his forearm, his stare burning into Reaver's otherwise occupied form.

"Why do I have the feeling that letter was not written to you, Reaver?" Logan's voice was flat and monotone with just the slightest hint of annoyance. Reaver didn't answer back for several more seconds, allowing his irritability to seethe.

"Perhaps because it was not. Simple mistake, I assure you. I am most used to when mail is addressed to me, it is in fact meant for me." Reaver's golden eyes flickered in the light as he lifted the letter from his desk and slowly strolled toward the chair adjacent to Logan's. Once reaching it, he flopped down and shifted several times attempting to find the perfect position, reveling in Logan's apparent animosity as he took his time before handing over the letter.

Holding the parchment in between two fingers, he lazily held his hand over the armrests of his seat toward Logan who promptly snatched it out of his hands violently. Reaver chucked at his impatience, reaching into one of his various pockets for a box of matches to light his large, ostentatiously inlaid ivory pipe with. Logan scanned the paper through squinted eyelids, taking in every word. Reaver glanced over a few times, each time resisting the urge to ask Logan if he needed a pair of spectacles and chortling audibly at his own joke as he packed the pipe with tobacco.

By the time Logan had clearly finished reading, Reaver was taking a deep inhale off of the pipe, blowing smoke slowly out through his mouth and into the air above him while holding the pipe dramatically out to the side. It was several moments before the pair spoke, Logan at a temporary loss of words and Reaver allowing it to sink in before breaking the delicious silence.

"Quick as a whip, and I do so love whips." Reaver finally spoke, smoke funneling out of his mouth while his every word dripped with antagonism.

"What?" Logan visibly shook from the thoughts in his mind, hearing Reaver's voice but not fully taking in the words. Reaver scowled slightly, realizing that his prod had been successfully ignored.

"My, your sister. Oh, she's as clever as a fox, is she not? I must wonder if she's as nimble as one as well..." Reaver allowed his voice to trail off lightly, as if allowing his thoughts to wander. Logan was noticeably angry this time, his features darkening as he turned his head slowly toward Reaver.

"I would suggest keeping those thoughts from your mind, Reaver. She is your Queen." Logan turned his head from Reaver, exhaling deeply. "You've never been one for smart women. Quick perhaps, but never smart. Not to mention cheap." Logan spat the last part out quietly.

Reaver raised his eyebrows in faux insult. "My dear boy! I am offended!" He placed his hand over his heart, the corresponding hand lifted in the air theatrically holding the pipe. He moved his head slowly toward Logan. "I assure you, my women are anything but cheap." He threw his head back in laughter. Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, placing his head in the palm of his hand.

"Send me to the assassins or throw me to the wolves, I care not but anything is better than this. Listening to a devious pervert talk about his petty squabbles with common street whores. This is what I have been reduced to." He waved Reaver off with his free hand.

"Oh, I cannot deny that I once in a while indulge in the fruits of a common garden, but it makes the forbidden, loftier ones all the sweeter and juicier." He took another deep inhale of his pipe.

"I count most noble women among today's ranks no higher than a common street whore, seeing as most partake in the same activities on a day by day basis. The only difference is at least a courtesan doesn't pretend to be anything more than just that." Logan stared into the fire.

"I must say I do agree with that particular observation. I myself am rather disappointed at the lack of challenge when it comes to the court. I do believe at this point, I have had all the women at least once and it proved not the least bit satisfying. All the women except of course.. one."

Logan looked over at him in total surprise for several seconds before keeling over into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, or the closest thing to it for the sullen man. His muffled chortles echoed up the walls.

"Oh by Avo, good luck with fruitless endeavor, you foolish man. The woman despises you, she recoils from your very presence, and she finds everything about you to be absolutely repulsive. The only challenge you'll accomplish will be getting yourself thrown into a dungeon and beheaded, and not necessarily in that order." He quaked with amusement. Reaver only smiled, his eyes shining with the fire of a man who enjoyed a good conquest.

"My dear Prince Logan, you know little of the art of seduction. It's not what you are. It's what they perceive you to be." Reaver held his pipe thoughtfully between his lips as Logan shook off the last of his fit.

"You ruined that trick a long time ago, Reaver. She's dealt with you on an almost daily basis since she took the throne, and even before that. I believe you tried to kill her once? Nothing begs romance like mauling your object of affection into submission." Logan sneered.

"Some women do like that sort of thing, although of course I wouldn't expect you to know it. I can't imagine how long it's been since you've felt the touch of another human being. I must ask, are there cobwebs in your trousers at this point?" Reaver shuffled with laughter in his chair as Logan sent him a stern look. "In all seriousness, I dare say there's not a single soul in the kingdom who can handle a little firebrand like your beloved sister. Unless, of course, you count myself." He arched his eyebrow at Logan.

"I believe that ridiculous hat has cut off the circulation to your head, Reaver. Seraphina would rather throw herself into the Aurorian Sea than spend a night with you. She's not some prize to be won and then casually tossed aside. Even you of all people must realize the commitment that comes with courting a Queen. Not to mention the fact that she's the most desired woman in the kingdom and she doesn't even so much as glance at any man, or woman, for that matter. What exactly makes you think that you of all people stand even the slightest chance? You're a damned fool if you think she wouldn't shudder at the thought." Logan's tone was venomous, spitting every word as a personalized insult to Reaver. Much to his dismay, Reaver looked completely unfazed, and even satisfied with himself.

"Every woman finds themselves lonely, dear boy, and even a Queen has urges." Reaver smiled pleasantly at Logan's apparent uncomfortable shift with the talk of 'urges'. "I dare say that I enjoy the thought of partaking in a battlecat like the queen. So fierce, and so feisty. She must be absolute lightning under the sheets." He batted his hand whimsically through the air.

It was only seconds before Logan was standing, his tip of his cutlass placed at Reaver's still sitting form. Reaver waved him off, unperturbed.

"You are never to speak of my sister as anything other than your Queen and Majesty. Is this understood?" He prodded the sword closer. Reaver made a quick sigh, shaking his head.

"I do so wish I didn't have to point this out to you, it's quite awkward, but.." He gave a soft laugh. "You appear to be at the slightest of disadvantages here, given the situation." He gave a few moments for the words to sink in. "Now put the sword down before you hurt yourself. lighten up, my dear Logan! I say, I'll never comprehend you royals. Always so uptight. You would think people in such positions of power would learn to enjoy life more."