Twenty Six:
The Battle For Albion

Thunder boomed and lightning cracked the sky. Houses collapsed to rubble from strange, preternatural blasts as people ran, screaming, through the streets. Or…that's how the day should have begun. The reality couldn't have been more different.

The sky was a bright, robin egg blue; soft, pale wisps of cloud drifted lazily across its expanse like leaves on a still pond. The air was a curious but pleasant mix of hot and cold that made it seem like the perfect autumnal day. Perfect…but for the fact that the country was amazingly static. From Oakfield to Mistpeak not a single breeze did blow. From Westcliff to Brightwood there wasn't a single bird that dared sing its song. Even the legendary beasties of Thorndeep forest, Miremoor, and Wraithmarsh seemed to have hidden themselves away, waiting, watching and the Rosewood lay silent under its legion of roses and thorned vines.

Ships sat moored in dead water, their reefed sails like inverted snowdrifts. Shops, stalls, and parks were empty while homes, pubs, and inns were boarded up and locked down. The whores and the homeless had even deserted the streets, taking refuge wherever people would take them. The only form of movement came from the guards and soldiers who patrolled the desolate streets. Their scarlet and gold—and violet and silver—uniforms stood out on the empty streets like beacons in the night.

The courtiers had deserted the castle grounds, which Victoria had noted when she looked out her bedroom window that morning. She found the sudden lack of movement disturbing.

She spent a lot of time looking out the window as she waited, rubbing Nero's ears and watching the darkness coiling about the very edge of the horizon. It was nerve-wracking, really; there were far too many ill meanings to silence and stillness for the Princess to find comfort in it. Oh, Avo, I can still hear it whispering in my head.

And so they sat, the girl and her dog, waiting in the window as they stared out at the beautiful autumn day.

It wasn't until noon that things began to change.

The sky began to darken. Clouds had started to roll in only an hour previously, but they couldn't be blamed for the sky's sudden darkness. It was as though it had magically become twilight. How is the sun still out in this darkness? the Princess wondered as she slowly rose to her feet.

But it was the sign she had been waiting for.

Victoria bolted from her chambers, her gown tangling about her ankles. She paid it no heed. She looked out every other window she came to as she ran, confusing poor Nero with all the constant starting and stopping and changing directions. However, the collie did seem to realise that was important for he kept even with her as Victoria burst into the war room.

"It's coming!" Victoria all but gasped as the room's occupants turned in her general direction.

It took her a moment to realise that the reason everyone was staring was because she was still dressed in only her night things.

Blushing faintly, she added, "Thought you ought to know."

Walter, who had been speaking to Logan at the map table, was the first to recover. He shot Ben a don't-you-dare-say-anything-Finn look as the blond slowly set the chair he'd been reclining on back onto four legs.

"Are you certain?" Logan enquired, clearly somewhat bothered by his sister's sudden lack of modesty. She had a feeling that he was silently wondering why, if the world was near ending, Victoria couldn't just put some clothes on. Poor thing.

"Yes," the Princess nodded, waving off her butler as he attempted to offer her his coat. "I saw it. The sky's getting darker and I can see the Darkness growing thicker on the horizon."

Ben muttered an oath. "And here I thought we might get a bit of a lie-in. Doesn't anyone have the decency to wait until it's late to attack?"

"Shut up, Ben," Walter growled, more out of habit than anything else. He looked a bit thinner than usual, Victoria decided; almost gaunt. She longed to ask what was wrong with him as the old soldier turned, almost meditatively, back to the map table. But Victoria held her tongue as Logan murmured something to Walter, earning a slow nod of agreement from Walter.

Victoria couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking as she said, "I doubt we have much time left."

"Only a few hours, if my estimation is right," Walter agreed gruffly.

"Start deploying the soldiers," Logan instructed to Ben and Walter. "We must be prepared for any eventuality should your assumptions be incorrect."

It was over the next couple of hours that reports of incidents began to come in. One of the few ships that had elected to go out and monitor the Crawler's approach had gone missing. People in the more outlying regions of the country were reporting strange dreams and homicidal (and, apparently, suicidal) changes in their friends and families. The behavioural changes spread like ripples in a still pond, branching out to reach every corner of Albion. They soon found fear was the most prevalent amongst those who were more inclined to express how they had been affected.

Ben and Walter had it easy when it came to calming the soldiers. After all, the militia was trained to keep calm under extremely stressful situations. If the soldiers were really afraid, Victoria thought they hid it extremely well. The mercenaries, on the other hand…not so much. She could see on Saker's face just how frustrated he was with his men's lack of control when it came to their emotions. Victoria was glad she wouldn't be near Saker when his short temper finally reached its end.

Saker's not the only one with a short temper, Victoria thought, her mind wandering to Page.

The revolutionary had been worryingly tense. Page didn't want to talk about it, though, so Victoria didn't really want to breach the subject. Instead, she left Page to ready the rebels and strategize on her own. Luckily, despite Page's distance, Sabine and Ilan were bloodthirsty enough to inspire a bit of confidence.

"There," Jasper announced, jerking her from her thoughts. He'd begun to help her dress after she'd realised just how difficult it would be to fight the Crawler in a dressing gown.

Victoria eyed her reflection warily as if it might bite her. Her clothes were mightily similar to what she'd worn in Aurora, she realised with a start. Those strange short trousers had found their way out of the depths of her trunk but, instead of an undershirt, Jasper had managed to get her into some sort of doublet-like vest. It was odd, seeing herself dressed all in black and, when she combined that with the worn, red leather coat Jasper had rustled up for her, she found she looked like…like….

"I look like father," she murmured awkwardly.

"Yes, I thought it was a rather dashingly rogue, renegade Hero look," Jasper replied merrily.

"What would I do without you?"

"I'm not certain, but I do doubt you would own a single clean sock."

Victoria smiled but quickly sobered as she said, "You should probably return to the Sanctuary."

Jasper bid her a farewell as Victoria, fastening her weapons about herself, left Nero with the elderly butler. She knew neither would return to the Sanctuary, but she didn't want them to follow her, nor did she want to be distracted by the thought of the Crawler getting to either of them. Besides, as much as Jasper and Walter got along, they had very different ideas on how to keep her safe and she knew they could easily get into a row about it at the worst of times. She hated when "mummy and daddy" fought.

Granted, once she'd returned to the war room and realised there was nothing really left to argue about, she felt a bit silly for worrying.

It was quickly agreed upon that Page and Saker would handle Bowerstone Industrial while Sabine and Ilan took the wreck that was the remains of the Old Quarter. Logan and a group of soldiers were to hold the market as Walter and Ben remained with the Princess. Everyone else was to be divided up accordingly. Victoria liked the plan; it was simple, easy to remember, and left her plenty of room to improvise when something invariably went wrong.

"Improvise", Victoria thought with a scoff. Bloody hell, I'm beginning to sound like Reaver.

Thinking about it only made the deviant's absence even more disappointing. Perhaps it had been childish of her to consider he'd grow a conscience overnight and decide to help them. But there was a small part of her that ached painfully with every second he deigned to not show his face. Don't focus on it. You don't even want to see him right now.

It was true to some degree (bloody distracting pirate) and so Victoria tried to keep her mind on task. It was hard, though. And it certainly didn't help that they weren't covering any new strategies. Only Logan, Walter, and herself remained in the war room by then, and the hour was growing later. She had to keep her head in the game. She could do this if she just kept focus!

And then the gods decided to screw around with her once more.

In hindsight, Walter decided they should have guessed what was going to happen. Or…at least that something similar would happen.

Jasper hurried anxiously into the room, looking as if he were trying to outrun the wrath of Skorm himself. He rushed up to the Princess. Suddenly, Walter didn't feel so confident.

"Y-Your Highness?" the butler began, sounding flustered. "Princess?"

"Good lord, are you all still alive, then? And here I had gotten my hopes up," a boredly cynical voice drawled from the door, sounding almost disappointed. "I suppose I am early to the party, after all."

Walter couldn't tell if his pulse had sped up or stopped all together. Twin sensations of hot and cold ran down his spine and he realised that the man in the doorway was indeed Reaver. Balls. What is he doing here?

He cast a surreptitious glance around at his fellows, unsure just how well Reaver paid attention to others. Logan didn't seem too bothered or even surprised by the industrialist's sudden and unexpected appearance (wasn't he meant to be far away somewhere?) but Jasper was uncomfortably anxious. Walter's gaze moved expectantly to Victoria.

The Princess just stood there, facing the door with her expression hidden from his view. Like a sleepwalker, Victoria started for Reaver, who merely looked down at her with something like challenge in his dark eyes. She stopped before him, swaying slightly on her feet, and Walter's breath caught as she suddenly drew her hand back to strike him. Neither Logan nor Jasper had a chance to rebuke her, though; before her hand made contact—before they could so much as blink—Reaver had Victoria's wrist firmly in his grip.

"Now, now, Princess, that isn't very nice, is it?" he mocked.

Victoria snarled something under her breath and Reaver's reply was equally hard to hear.

Walter's mind was whirling. He'd listened to the Princess's stories, of course, about what had happened, but…Victoria and Reaver—did they realise just how they looked together? They were like two planets caught in the same gravitational field; orbiting each other but each keeping just enough distance to not destroy the other. And—and this thought really gave Walter chills—yet they also reminded him of two predators vying for dominance over the other; neither content to just rip the other's throat out, they seemed to need for the other to be on their knees, begging for death, before they would be satisfied. It was a side of Victoria he'd never seen before, and wasn't quite certain he was happy it existed.

That being said, the chemistry they projected was astounding. Logan didn't look happy.

"Why are you here?" the Princess snapped, wrenching her hand free. Her hand flexed as if she desperately wanted to keep trying to hit him until she landed a blow.

"Well now, Princess, after discovering you had bullied all of Albion's ships into your service, I couldn't just go home, could I? How utterly boring that would be! So I've come to offer you my…services in any way you see fit to use them," Reaver replied, spreading his arms in a placating manner, as if to say 'voila! Here I am!'

Despite that he was trying to look sincere and as if there wasn't an innuendo hidden in his words, Victoria blushed.

Unfortunately for Reaver, Logan caught it, too. "Your services are no longer required."

Much to Walter's surprise, Victoria turned to her brother with a mischievously thoughtful look. "Oh, I don't know, brother. We could use another gun; doesn't Page need some extra help?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Walter absently wondered who was really being punished: Logan for being controlling, Reaver for being…himself, or Page for reasons unknown. Overall, Walter thought the idea was great; finally someone would be babysitting Reaver.

The set of the industrialist's jaw suggested he would rather swallow a batch of chemical waste from one of his factories as Logan agreed with his little sister.

"You said you would help in 'any' way we saw fitting, did you not?" Logan added looking pointedly at Reaver.

And this, Walter thought, is why no one should get between feuding royals.

He almost felt sorry for the smarmy bastard. Well…almost.

A roiling black miasma had blackened out the last dregs of sunset. Those out in the streets couldn't help but look up at it frequently. What was going on, they wondered, that would make the sky act like that? What was so powerful that it could blot out the sky?

As it was, Reaver didn't particularly care about something so trivial as the sky; he was a bit more preoccupied with the behaviour of the ground.

Shadows had begun to form, disentangling themselves from the damp and dirty cobbles. Their ebony claws gouged at the stones as they drew themselves up and launched themselves at the poorly prepared men in the streets. As per usual, they ignored Reaver. Most days, he would have been content to return the favour, but he was stuck with Page and when would he ever get another Crown-sanctioned excuse to mess with the little girl's head?

Page was brutish when she fought; Reaver had noticed that when she had fought in his Wheel of Misfortune. She was as graceless as the common mercenary. And, honestly, didn't she know how to properly swing a sword? He tracked her movements as he drew his beloved Dragonstomper and fired several times in quick succession.

The shadows around the brusque beauty exploded on impact. I say, if I don't make this look good, I don't know who does, Reaver decided with a self-satisfied smile.

Page was staring in disbelief. "You…? Why would—"

She broke off, occupied by another group of shadows.

Reaver had his own cluster of monsters to deal with and they were not happy that he had turned against them. But, really, when had he ever been on their side? Switching between his "borrowed" sword and his Dragonstomper, the Hero of Skill wove easily between enemies, taunting and slaughtering them without mercy.

This? This was fun. This was what he lived for. Well…this and sex and revenge, though those all had a time and many places. He lost himself when he fought; everything was a haze of adrenalin and bullets and clashing swords and blood. A river of red.

The shadows that blocked his sword quickly fell prey to his pistol. However…there was one shadow that went after him with a particular vengeance. It gave him quite the workout as he blocked and dodged, not finding time to shoot the annoying creature.

"Ooh, touched a nerve, have I?" Reaver crooned mockingly to it as he attempted to behead it. "Was one of them close to you? Your lover, perhaps? Well, if they gave as good as they got, they might still be here, hmm?"

The long-standing question of if the shadows actually could hear him was answered as the shadow lashed out at him, slicing into Reaver's arm with his phantom blade. A patch of crimson seeped through the once-pure white fabric of his most expensive suit as Reaver retaliated by slicing the shadow cleanly in two. When would they learn than insulting his clothing was insulting him? The suit would never be able to return to perfect condition again. What a waste.

Shaking his head slightly in pseudo-disappointment, he took a step back, intending on walking away and looking for something else to kill—after all, wasn't this meant to be a battle? Reaver didn't get far. He had backed into something and he whirled, surprised but somehow not when his and Page's swords clashed against each other.

The little revolutionary was surprised, that was obvious. She was also getting tired. Her chest heaved with each heavy breath and her sweat-drenched dreadlocks were in disarray. He had to admit, her bloodlust was invigorating.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Page's grip changed and her eyes narrowed, but it was too late. Her face was an open book to him; Reaver had known what she intended to do the moment the silly girl had had the thought to do it. She moved to strike him, but, before she could even really react, Reaver batted away Page's sword with his own as if it were nothing but a toy.

He laughed, a soft, dangerous sound that was a warning in itself. "You're attacking me? And against the orders of your Princess? My, my, and here I thought you two were so close," he taunted, every syllable dripping with mockery. "Do you really think you can kill me, love? Or…are you actually intending on ravaging me in some other manner? I must say, I'm partial to the later, myself, though now might not be the very best of times."

As if to verify his words, a long, drawn-out scream of agony sounded from far-off, only to be cut off much too soon by the sound of falling rubble. Though Reaver heard it, he was completely unaffected by it. It was as though he and Page were completely separate from the battle. And speaking of the vixen….

She swung at him again, throwing her weight behind it, and again Reaver batted it aside. But Page wasn't one for giving up. As she tried and failed to harm him, she snarled, "It doesn't matter how it makes the Princess feel, I'm doing what's right for Albion in the long run."

"In the long run?" Reaver echoed, torn between disbelief at the absurdity of it all and the humour at how pathetic it was. "My dear girl, do use your common sense. The wee Crawler beastie is here now, and you're more worried about killing me when I've only attempted to fatally wound you a couple times. Your judgment is sorely lacking, isn't it? It's not as though I'm going to destroy Albion."

But sometimes it certainly sounded like fun to see how far he could go before he did.

Page scoffed. "The fact that you exist is killing Albion."

Oh, how naïve she was. The next time she tried to strike him, Reaver caught her wrist. He twisted it sharply, making her sword fall from her grasp to clatter on the cobbles below as he roughly pushed her up against the dirty façade of a building. Had he tried this on the Princess, Victoria would have played submissive until he relaxed enough for her to head butt him or for her to knee him in the groin. Page did not. She struggled wildly, not conceding when he tightened his grip nor when she realised she couldn't get away; for some inane reason that was utterly lost on him, she thought she could fight through it. What made this little revolutionary—and Victoria, for that matter—so annoyingly hopeful?

"If you wanted me to have you against a wall, you could have simply asked me," he purred, enjoying Page's reaction when she tensed against him.

"You—!"

"But while I have you here," Reaver continued as if she'd not tried to interrupt him, "allow me to let you in on a little secret: I'm not going anywhere. You think I'm as bad as the Crawler? I'm not; I'm much worse and no matter how you fight, no matter what you do, and no matter how you squirm, you will never drive me away. Feel free to declare war on me once this is over, my dear, but, for now, I suggest you play nicely."

"Why don't you just go to hell?" Page growled, glaring at him. She kept trying to kick, but it did her no good; there just wasn't enough distance between them.

"Already tried that, my little Page. The weather didn't quite agree with me," he quipped in reply with a somewhat roguish smirk. "Now, should I let you go or are you just going to attack me again?"

Bowerstone Industrial was crumbling around them. Buildings were collapsing and knocking in factory walls. One of the river's channels was completely dammed. The dead littered the streets, becoming a hindrance to those still fighting. Page and Reaver had noticed none of this while locked in their power play, but even they could hear the sound of metal grinding against stone that was clearly a footstep behind them.

Reaver froze, body tensed like a cat ready to pounce. Something about the set of Page's expression informed him that she could see what was behind him. Maybe he could shake her up just a little bit more? With a casual calm born of a high-stress lifestyle, he let go of one of her arms, glancing towards Page's pistol as he subtly reached for his own.

"Oh, I don't know," Page replied dryly, pulling her gun up to her chest and cocking it. "I think it could be much more beneficial if you got a shot in the face."

"Promises, promises," he murmured, bolting to the side.

They both fired, blowing the head off the bird-man-like thing that had been about to attack.

It was around then that they realised just how over-run the city around them was.

"As much as I would love to continue fighting with you," Page told him, obviously furious with herself, "I think I would rather kill these things more."

"I—"

An explosion that seemed to rattle the entire city cut him off. They both whirled around. An odd feeling was settling into his stomach, one that Reaver hadn't felt since Victoria had so unceremoniously dropped in on his meeting with the Shadow Court. In his waking hours, he could never give name to that feeling which was, indeed, dread.

The market….

The explosion had been completely accidental. Well, okay, not completely; Victoria had been aiming for the barrel of gunpowder, but how was she to know there were a dozen more barrels hidden nearby? But the calamitous boom and the huge plume of flame she'd created helped thin out the shadows and bird statues enough so she and Logan were no longer fighting back-to-back.

Ben, who was fighting a ways off, whooped in approval as Walter tossed her a thumbs-up and, laughing, said something to the younger soldier.

The battle was progressing smoother than she'd hoped—though she couldn't imagine what it was like in other parts of the city—but she couldn't help but wonder why the Crawler hadn't shown itself. Was it content to wear down at them mentally? Was it waiting for them to grow weak and tired before striking? Or…was it waiting for something else?

A group of bird statues, led by one of the pseudo-angels, forced the foursome into an alleyway.

As they backed further into it, Victoria called out, "Does anyone see a way out of here?"

"Directly behind us," Logan replied succinctly. "It looks to lead out near the square."

"You two go on without us; we'll fend them off," Walter told them, his tone full of almost fatherly concern as he fired at their approaching attackers.

Victoria didn't like that idea. "But—"

"Oh, go on, Vicky," Ben said with a dramatic sigh. "If we can't handle a few of these bird brains, we don't deserve to be in the army."

As if to prove his point, Ben blew the head off a statue with Vanessa—his beloved rifle—and grinned as the statue collapsed to a pile of old metal and stone.

As Walter complimented his shot, Victoria and Logan exchanged questioning looks. It was a sibling thing, and Victoria could tell that, even though she was against it, Logan was all for it. She nodded to her brother once, giving in.

"Be careful, you two," she told them before she and Logan escaped the alleyway.

They didn't get very far before agony erupted through Victoria's mind. She bit back a scream, clutching at her head as though it would burst apart if she let go.

"You rule over the graveyard!" the Crawler shrieked through her mind, his fury pouring through her as countless images of the dead passed before her eyes. "Is that what you wanted?! The darkness has only to swallow you whole!"

And then it was gone. Victoria hadn't even had time to successfully scream for him to leave her alone. The pain, the visions, all of it just vanished and she found herself staring into her brother's face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rarely expressed concern showing on his face.

"Quite," Victoria muttered, tears of pain catching in the corner of her eyes. With a bit more urgency, she added, "The Crawler's here." I think we made him mad….

"Come; we should prepare the soldiers in the square."

He put a hand on her shoulder as if to tell her it was alright if she couldn't go on. But Victoria nodded determinedly, anxious to get it over with. She wasn't going to sit this out over on measly headache. She'd never forgive herself if they failed because of her.

The square, when they reached it, was surprisingly empty. Oddly quiet, as well; as if an invisible blanket was muffling every sound that came into it.

"Where is everyone?" Victoria wondered aloud.

Instead of answering, Logan gave a startled yelp that sent Victoria whirling around. The Crawler had appeared in front of Logan, looking as pale and wrong as something found in the dark depths of an ancient cave. Before Victoria could take so much as a step towards them, the Crawler had grasped her brother's throat and somehow—someway—crawled into Logan.

Victoria was too horrified to scream. Even when Logan finally turned toward her, red-eyed and wraith-like, she could only back away. Her mind was locked in denial, refusing to accept what was happening.

"This land is ours," her brother told her. But it wasn't his voice anymore: it was the Crawler's.

"No. Logan, you can fight it," Victoria all-but pleaded as she backed away from his approaching form.

Logan seemed to flicker momentarily as if he were fighting to regain control. But, if he was, it didn't work.

The Crawler seemed amused. "No use, child."

Victoria narrowed her eyes, fury taking over her. "I thought I told you to leave my brother alone!"

He smiled at her, a twisted, evil smile that unnerved her to the core, and he vanished. The Princess stayed on her guard. The world itself had not returned to normal and she doubted the Crawler was afraid of her, which, in turn, had her convinced that the Crawler wasn't really gone. He had to be here…watching…waiting….

"Princess?" Walter called as he and Ben reached the square.

"Don't!" she shouted. The urgency of her tone was just barely enough to freeze them in their tracks and to keep them out of the square. "Stay back! It's still here."

"What's going on?" Ben wondered aloud.

"Something's not right here."

Senses in a feverish overdrive, Victoria strained her ears for any sign or warning. Ultimately, it came down to how well she knew her brother's fighting style that saved her. He'd never been good at sneak attacks or spontaneous combat…all she'd needed was the right sign. Directly behind her, she heard a half-dragged footstep. Victoria jumped forward and to the right, her muscles tingling pleasantly as she turned the leap out of range into a roll that propelled her to her feet.

She heard Ben swear as she turned to face her possessed brother.

He was still smiling as he attacked her. Victoria, somehow, managed to block his sabre before it sliced into her chest. But she couldn't convince herself to fight back. The Crawler may have been possessing him, but he was still her brother; her Logan. She may have loved and hated him all at once, but she never wished him dead.

"What are you hoping to accomplish? Do you, too, wish to join your loved ones in the graveyard?" the Crawler taunted as she continued blocking and dodging.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded to know, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. Why are you trying to make me kill my brother?

The smiled faded. Using Logan's most serious voice, the Crawler replied, "You have done terrible things. Did you think I would not notice? Did you think I would allow them?"

Victoria's blood seemed to have turned to ice, momentarily freezing her. That lapse nearly cost her as, cackling in demented joy, he tried to kill her once more.

It was time to stop playing. The only way she was going to be able to save Logan, was if the Crawler died. Walter and Ben, now cut off from them by a glowing violet barrier, couldn't do it. The militia, had any of them been there, wouldn't have been able to do it. So it would be her…and she would have it no other way.

The Crawler seemed vaguely surprised when she began attacking him with vigour. Her slashes were precise—surgical, almost—aimed to injure and not to kill despite their brutality. Before she could actually make contact, however, the Crawler had vanished again.

He reappeared to her left, splitting the ground with waves of black energy that spread across the ground like spider webs. Victoria instinctively dodged, not allowing the spell to connect.

Adrenalin filled her veins with a somewhat heady sensation as Victoria moved to counterstrike. She got her chance when, having danced around the energy, she saw him drop his guard fractionally. Victoria pulled a couple of fake slashes to his stomach before aiming a well-placed kick to his head. It landed perfectly. Logan had never been good with tricks like that and she was glad to see that the Crawler now felt the effects of that weakness.

However, things went south when, starting to feel slightly more confident that she could beat the Crawler without actually killing her brother, she tried to kick him once more. He was ready for her and caught her ankle, jerking sharply upwards to make her fall over.

Agony speared through Victoria's spine as she hit the ground, earning a yelp of pain. She was barely able to keep her head from colliding with the cobblestones. He'd followed her downward movement, though, and she brought up her other foot. It made an unhealthy noise as it struck Logan's body's shoulder. As he was propelled backwards, she struggled blearily to her feet. Her ankle was pure, throbbing agony that seemed to pulse its way to her head, made her vision oddly bright and fuzzy for the briefest of seconds. Victoria tried in vain to clear it as the monster wearing her brother's skin also resumed his feet.

It wouldn't be long now, some part of her mind realised, before the battle would end. It had been a short fight, but Victoria had been fighting the Crawler's minions for the last hour and the Crawler itself was weak from the energy his journey had cost. They were depleting their stamina too fast. Time was short. But Victoria had also come to fully realise that she couldn't remove the Crawler from her brother without killing Logan in the process. She closed her eyes a brief moment to steady herself. Yes. This was how it was meant to be.

"Have you realised it yet?" he asked like a lover about to slit his one love's throat. "Your bone gleam in an affront to us. You shall re-join the Void as you so fear."

Victoria gave him a grim smile, trying to silently figure out just how quickly she could retrieve her fallen knives from the ground. "I fear neither Death nor the Void."

She dove for the blades, rolling into a crouch with the twin blades at the ready. The Crawler had made her brother vanish once more. Victoria's frown deepened in frustration. She simply wasn't fast enough.

Something seemed to click in place in her brain. Speed…. Speed was something she had gotten better at as she had become a better Skill-user. Since Skill, like Will, was a more intellectual ability—Victoria mentally berated herself. Of course! Stupid, foolish, idiot of a girl! That's it! She wasn't thinking like a Hero, so she was unable to fight like one. Think, relax, use your instincts. What do your instincts say?

Not moving from her crouch, Victoria closed her brown eyes. She could hear wind and far-off fighting. Ben and Walter seemed to be struggling with something by the faintly humming barrier. A rock stabbed into her knees as the ground vibrated faintly with explosions in other parts of the city. She could smell blood and gunpowder and fire in the air.

Victoria felt the shift in air pressure as it happened. She didn't need to look back to know he was behind her, and, just as he was about to drive his sword into her spine, she jerked backwards and buried her blade deep into his knee.

There were no screams. When she turned, his form flickered instead. For a split second, she saw the real Logan, his face creased in agony, before the Crawler's wraith-like aura snapped back into place over him. Do it quickly. As he wrenched the blade from Logan's knee, Victoria lunged forward with the other blade at the ready. He vanished just before she reached him, appearing behind her to kick her remaining dagger from her hands.

They were both weaponless, now. Victoria, too angry to hear anything the Crawler was taunting, summoned her Will. Lightning and flame coursed over her hands and she lobbed the spells at him. Victoria had noticed in Aurora that the Crawler had an adverse reaction to fire and, though her spells had been relatively weak, she was pleased it still held true. Logan's body stayed down much longer than previously.

Victoria made for where her hammer had fallen from its harness. It was heavier than usual, but the grip was comforting as she stood there, waiting. She barely had a chance to shift into a fighting stance as he threw himself at her. I'm sorry, Logan. It happened in the blink of an eye. The Crawler was before her, lashing out and driving his sword into her side. Just as the blade bit into her flesh, she swung her hammer; a strange burst of light distracted her and caused her swing to go low. The hammer had missed his head, only to crush the entire left side of his lower torso.

The unnatural darkness of the world faded, to be replaced with a red-tinged dusk. The sentient statues crumbled to dust, leaving those who had fought for Albion baffled. Logan shuddered and gasped, the Crawler's aura vanishing from him completely. He teetered slightly…and then he fell.

"Logan!"

Victoria cast aside her hammer and threw herself down beside him. Gently, she lifted his head and pulled him closer to her.

"Logan," she said again, panicking. Victoria knew very little about healing wounds, but even she could see that this wound was beyond bad. Beyond anything most people could heal.

"That was close," Logan murmured, his voice aggrieved and thin. He reached out as if to touch where his sister had been stabbed, but drew back in pain.

Victoria didn't even feel her wound. "Logan, we need to get you back to the castle. There's—there's nurses, healers, there. We can get you fixed. We—"

"No," her brother said as forcefully as he could.

Tears burned in her eyes and Victoria had to look away. The world had blurred and she tried to stare at a strange white blur lurking in an alley instead. It was a futile attempt, though, for her tears were flowing too freely to stop.

"You must let me go," he went on heedlessly.

"No. You said that to choose between life and death was the greatest of all powers. Well, I choose life. Your life. Damn it, Logan. You're the only blood I have left!"

"Which is why you must let me go. For Albion's sake."

He said the words so reasonably and, yet, they were agony. Her dear, misguided, genius big brother…how could she…?

"Do not cry, sister," Logan told her, usually stern face creased with concern for her. "This is…my legacy." My gift to you. He paused to draw in a heavy breath. "Mother and father would be so proud of you to see what you have become."

"Funny," she sniffled, "I think they would be disgusted with what I've done to you."

She wiped at her tears once more, starting when Logan took her hand. He urged her closer, pulling slightly, and whispered into her ear. Victoria jerked backwards to stare at him in a mix of horror and confusion. What did he—?

"Victoria?" Logan whispered, drawing her attention back to him. "Thank you."

His words were so faint that Walter and Ben's approaching footsteps nearly masked them, but they still reverberated through her head. Before she could speak again, her brother grew still, drawing one last breath.

Logan was dead.

And the sun finished setting over Albion.

He stood in his little alleyway, watching the girl crying in the street with a meditative calm. The blonde soldier—Ben Finn, was it?—tried to get her to move away, but, when Victoria refused to let him, he knelt down beside her, wrapping a protective arm around the Princess and speaking to her in a quiet tone. Together, Finn and the ever-paternal Sir Walter guided her away from her dead brother's body as several soldiers came to return their fallen King to the castle. Reaver's eyes narrowed further the longer he watched them, and he followed against his better judgment.

He'd abandoned Page and Bowerstone Industrial shortly after the explosion had rocked the city. It was such a puerile thing to be worried about the girl—and he wasn't, he assured himself—but he wasn't about to let anyone kill her but himself. They'd be dead before they could try. And yet, he'd still gone to see; the twin demons of shame and fury flaring in his gut and making him run all the more faster.

Now, as he followed the trio to the castle, the feelings returned full force.

Victoria had been so wrapped up in her revolution and in winning against Logan…and she'd just managed to string him along. He was furious with himself. Furious with how fascinated he'd been with her every struggle and with how much she reminded him of his great love. He'd been so wrapped up in something that was shiny and new, different…he'd not seen the truth. And the truth was: she'd used him just as much, if not more so, than he had used her.

It was maddening. (And now he'd get the pleasure of telling Kitten she'd been right all along.)

At least now he knew this was just a superficial infatuation. He didn't really care about her. The thought calmed Reaver slightly. He knew better than to think he had loved her—that he knew he was incapable of—but he was pleased to have a reason for this disturbing behaviour. After all…he could be sure that she neither felt like this nor did she care what he felt—or thought he felt.

Reaver pointedly ignored the fact that he was stalking the trio's steps.

In the dusk, it was easy to meld into the shadows like the thief he was. He'd heard Sir Walter mention taking the soon-to-be Queen to the castle's hospital and Reaver changed directions, heading down an even darker side street. All those years working at sea came to good use in scaling the castle's outer walls and there were no guards on patrol—everyone having been stationed in the city proper—to stop him.

Still, he was glad for his intimate knowledge of the castle for it helped him to find the hospital's balcony quickly. Avo knew he wasn't about to ask for, of all things, directions. Wouldn't want the Princess to have a head start, after all.

He watched as Finn and Sir Walter entrusted Victoria to a matronly nurse. As the old woman ushered the two soldiers from the room and fretted over the younger girl, Reaver pondered his options briefly. When they had been united against Logan, it had been fairly simple: they fought, they ignored each other, they came to terms, and, at the end, they would have a delightful romp between the sheets before sorting everything out. Now things were, quite possibly, different.

She'd never accepted blatant charm and he wasn't anywhere near the mood to attempt sympathy. With her "delicate female emotions"—Reaver mentally scoffed at the phrase, eternally baffled by why the newsprint still bothered to use the phrase—off kilter, indubitably she would respond to bluntness and cruelty with ice and violence.

He felt his emotions and doubts fall away as he came to a decision and his usual smirking, self-satisfied façade slid into place. As the nurse left Victoria alone with her grief, Reaver leaned against the balcony's doorframe as if he'd been there all week.

"My, my, I see what all my good advice has become. After all the times I've warned you that sulking does not suit your countenance, here you are…sulking," he drawled, his voice mellifluous and teasingly light. Anger would snap her out of this most pathetic mood…most likely.

Victoria's head snapped up; anger, fear, horror, and embarrassment swirled in her eyes before her fury took centre stage.

"Do you have no respect for anyone's grief?" she hissed at him, her hands balling on the sheets of the bed she was occupying.

Reaver tilted his head lazily. "Hmm, not in particular, ma belle." When she began to snap at him, he added, "No, I merely thought I would grace you with my grandiose—in your words, may I remind you—presence. Are we feeling amazed yet?"

"Give me a second to think of an appropriate response, you wouldn't appreciate the one that just came to mind."

He tsked at her. "How catty you are, Princess. You continuously wound me."

"Don't worry, Reaver," she retorted wryly. "You're immortal; you'll heal. Now please…can't you leave me be?"

There was an entirely different question in her voice and Reaver sat down gracefully beside her in response to it.

"The pair of you will destroy one another," Theresa had warned him secretly after informing them about the Crawler. "At the first chance you receive, abandon her. I will not let her fall as you have. Leave her."

His instincts were telling him much the same, but he knew better. He would let this obsession play out and be rid of the girl.

Still. Something felt…out of place. Seeing her like this…it...it wasn't right. Maybe, just maybe, he'd give her a week to get her head back in the game. Just one week. Then it would begin and one of them would end up ruined.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"For how long?"

"Why, for as long as it takes, of course."

AN: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAAAAAAAAN! NOOOOOOOO! My fangirl heart is sobbing endlessly right now. T-T Poor Logie. Reviews in Logan's memory? Pwease?

Dev. Notes: Long chapter is long. Long chapter has long notes, yepyep. This probably should have been two separate chapters. There was an extension of the bit where Reaver returns, but I had to cut it because it was a bit too long and a bit too...out of place with the chapter. Reaver and Page's argument was, strangely enough, inspired by a scene in Teen Titans where Robin is hallucinating Slade. The main idea behind it is that Reaver is Page's worst nightmare; he's everything she hates about Albion's current condition compiled into one person...and he's also responsible for most of the problems she sees. I picked Logan over Walter to die for a couple reasons: 1) I really didn't want to have to kill Walter unless I had no other choice, even if it affected game canon, and 2) I felt, for Victoria personally, it would be worse for her to lose her brother before they got a chance to truly make up. Also: end scene was not originally there. I wanted to end the chapter with Logan's death, but I think Reaver and Victoria also needed closure, so...yeah.

[edited; ver.3]