(A/N) Bonjour, reader! Are you enjoying the ride so far? If yes, then please review, I do so love getting your comments. And if not...then what's wrong with you? Just kidding. :) Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Yep, Reaver is right here, in my house, on my bed, with roses in his mouth. And I just thought I'd come on fanfiction to tell you guys. But seriously, Fable's not mine. Or Reaver. Well, that's what he says...

After what seemed like an eternity of mindless bickering and petty squabbling, the duo trailed off into what seemed to be a glorious silence.

In the distance, Lisbet squinted at what looked like a tavern. Thank Avo, a tavern! A tavern could save her right now. A tavern could provide her with a cool bath, a hot meal and a bed to sleep in. Admittedly, she was used to swan's down pillows and satin sheets that smelt like lavender but hey-ho, she wasn't going to complain.

"Is that a tavern?" she guessed half-heartedly, merely for the sake of saying something. She didn't much care for silence, and always wanted to fill them. In fact, she had a habit of it. At her grandmother's funeral when there were two minutes of silence, she kept yelling 'O-o-oil in the road!' and 'Yah-yah-yah' and even 'Oi, grandma, get back here you dozy bugger!' Much to her mother's horror. She didn't really know why on earth she'd said it. She was like that, grieving in weird ways.

Reaver looked at her drolly before slow-clapping.

"No, dear, it's merely a rock. We should sit on it and pretend to drink beer!"

Lisbet kicked a stone and glared at the ground, pretending it was Reaver's face. And every time she kicked a stone, she imagined she was kicking Reaver oh-so-fabulous balls. Hehe. The thought made a smile decorate her lovely red lips.

When they got to the tavern, which Lisbet fell about laughing when she saw it was called 'The Cock and the Doodle', they opened the door and waltzed inside.

Almost immediately, the bitter stench of sweaty men mixed with alcohol hit Lisbet and she gagged dramatically. Reaver wrinkled up his perfect nose and coughed politely into his gloved hand. Good god, it smelled like a barn inside. But he liked that. The thought of sweaty men…ooh, it sent a shiver running down his spine.

He, leaving Lisbet to stand in a corner with her skirts in her hands lest she dirty them, sashayed (yes, sashayed) to the bar and tapped his cane once, twice, thrice on the bell. A youngish woman with coffee coloured skin and a messy bun of black hair nodded at him with tired eyes.

"What can I do for ya?"

Reaver leaned back a little from the woman who he noticed a particularly nasty smell came off. He, with the little humanity he had in him, was considerate enough not to hold his nose and/or gag at the scent of her. It made Lisbet's sweet rosy scent almost appealing. And Reaver never liked sweet things.

"I would like a room for me and my…" he glanced at the aristocrat who had gathered quite a crowd of rude and lustful men. "partner, if you would be so kind," he purred, throwing down a generous fifty gold pieces which he was sure was more than enough for her hospitality. It was no better than a hovel, after all.

The woman eyed him up and down and Reaver could only squirm under her fierce gaze which made his seem like a loving glance.

She tapped the folded newspaper next to her with a disgusted expression.

"Yeah, sorry about that, but you're not getting a room. Or a drink, even. You and your pretty little girlfriend can just scamper out of her and you can take your lovemaking elsewhere."

From shock, disgust, and her comment, a startled laugh-snort came from Reaver as his eyebrows almost shot off his face.

"My dear woman! Why would you deny yourself my dazzling presence?" he said, not bothering to correct her that Lisbet was his 'girlfriend'. It was quite a wistful thought, one that Reaver could not wait to make a reality.

She lifted the newspaper which was named 'The Albion Shouter' and passed it over. Reaver unfolded it and within a second he was cursing and tapping his cane angrily.

Because on that paper screamed the title 'Deviant Entrepreneur kidnaps Lady!' with his and Lisbet's pictures below. According to the paper, Lisbet had been doing a simple mission before being held at gunpoint and kidnapped by the 'charming scoundrel' as they called him. Ugh. That was not going to look good on a résumé.

He put the paper back down, hand reaching for the reassurance of his pistol. His gun, I mean, not…well…

"Very well. Just so you know, this paper is a load of tosh and utterly not true," he said.

The woman shrugged and Reaver shot a glance at Lisbet who was wielding her sword, Love, was it? Anyway, she was swinging it dangerously close to one man whilst simultaneously shouting 'No! I will not join you in your bed!' The girl was causing quite a commotion and Reaver guessed that he had to get her out before she lobbed off one of the horny man's heads.

He sighed.

"Yeah, I believe ya, but it will drive away customers and it's every woman for herself, right?"

Reaver let himself smile at the woman.

"Right." He waved a hand towards Lisbet. "Come on, darling. Time to elope once more and find a place worthy of our love."

Lisbet kicked a man in the chest before standing on him for good measure and hissed "Never touch me there again."

Reaver grinned at the poor man and wondered where on earth he'd touched her to get such a reaction. Oh, the girl was so...so deliciously feisty. Taming her was going to be…heaven.

On the way out, Reaver glanced back at the woman before snaking his arm around Lisbet's skinny waist. For his image, he insisted to himself. Purely for his image. Being known as a kidnapper wasn't going to help him at all so he might as well try and turn it into a twisted love story. The people of Albion were suckers for a love story.

They walked on for a while and surpassingly, Lisbet didn't remove Reaver's hand from her waist. His warm body near hers made her feel secure. Safe, somehow. Not that she'd admit that, of course.

Reaver, on the other hand, was gazing at the stars whilst running his fingers seductively up and down Lisbet's waist, playing the innocent. It was getting quite dark and there wasn't another tavern for miles. The two would have to 'slum it', as the commoners in Bowerstone would say. He hated slumming it. But as he glance slid to Lisbet's chest, he thought that a little nighttime activity in the forest would make staying outside…much more enjoyable.

He reluctantly left Lisbet and began to pick up a few sticks which he then proceeded to set on fire, using his gorgeous ivory lighter. Lisbet watched him, noticing how the light danced prettily off his sculpted features.

He looked up at her and beamed.

"You have that backpack I gave you, I presume?" he asked. Lisbet nodded and shrugged it off her shoulder.

"Yep."

"Take the two bedrolls out and unfold them, if you'd be so kind."

Lisbet obediently did as he asked, shocking both herself and the deviant, who was watching her suspiciously as he snapped twigs to add to the inferno. She rolled them out before jumping on one and pulling the spare blanket over her.

Reaver slithered over where his was before moving it as close to hers and possible and lying on his side, facing her.

"Are you cold, dearest?"

Lisbet gave an over-exaggerated shiver the way she always did when her mother asked if she was sick and she's cough. It was an automatic reaction.

"A little," she admitted. It was, this time, true. The heart-drenched planes of Samarkand soon melted away and became dangerously cold when the sun set.

"I know a way to get warmer…"

"You don't say."

"Well, you're a virgin, naturally, so I can show you the ropes. Well, my rope," he chuckled to himself at his joke. Lisbet's mouth went slack with shock.

"First of all, what do you mean; naturally?"

"You're so disgusted when I touch you, so you've clearly never known a pleasurable touch and I can smell purity a mile away," the thief said, tapping the side of his nose. Lisbet, trying to disguise her hurt, turned her back on him. Reaver merely snuggled up behind her.

"As a matter of fact, you're wrong."

Reaver laughed into her neck, making her shiver. It was quite a pleasant feeling, she thought.

"Oh? You're such a sweet but awful liar."

He stroked her hair but she slapped his hand away with a furious glower.

"So that's a no to my idea, then?"

"Yes."

"What about spooning-"

"No spooning!"

Regardless, Reaver cuddled up to her away, pressing his body hard against the length of hers. Her sweet smell permeated his senses and frankly, it aroused him. Lisbet squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that the thing sticking into her was his Dragonstomper.48. But hadn't he taken it off before…?

Curled up like lovers, the two drifted off to sleep.

Reaver tossed and turned, caught in the merciless clutches of his nightmare.

He ran towards her-No! he rushed forward just in time to catch her lifeless form in his arms. His eyes ran over her sweet face, her blue/grey eyes open in a mask of horror. He chocked back sobs as he brushed a hand over those beautiful eyes, closing them forever to the world. Bitter tears streamed from his eyes as stomach-churning screams pierced the air.

"Reaver…"

The boy who would come to known as Reaver whipped around but he was surrounded by smoke and fire. There was no one calling his name.

"Reaver…"

The voice came again, that intimate, breathless whisper that sounded like it was inside his skull. He jammed his fingers in his ears to block out the mocking laughter of the Shadow Court as they tore through his dear home.

"Reaver…"

Reaver shook his head. No. the voices weren't real. No!

But they were real. Finished murdering the villagers of Oakvale, the Shadows now turned towards him, arms outstretched, desperate to ease their hunger for young flesh.

He tried to fight, but they were too strong as they wrapped him in their cold, loving embrace. His eyes fell to his love who looked so serene, even in death. She'd been too soft for this world. She didn't deserve to die like that, cut down like a rabid dog.

"I'm sorry!" The cry, so pointless, ripped up his throat and burst from his lips.

"You are no longer the innocent, pure boy known as Lysander. You are Reaver, reaper of souls, preserver of youth. And now, it is time to reap yours," the Shadow breathed before wrenching his soul from his body.

Drenched with sweat and panting like a dog, Reaver jolted awake and shot up in his bedroll.

For several agonizing moments, he didn't know where he was. It was only when he saw the sleeping beauty next to him that he remembered. Ohhhh, Samarkand. Right-right.

He shook his head, mentally cursing the silly nightmare that always plagued him.

He fumbled for his bottle before taking a long pull from it, eyes searching the planes wearily.

Lisbet sighed in her sleep and rolled over to face him. She seemed more attractive when her mouth was shut and she wasn't giving out glares, he thought wryly.

"Hello, Reaver."

Reaver almost jumped a foot in the air when he heard that solemn, wise voice he despised so much. He chuckled softly despite himself.

"Well, well, Teresa. Long time, no bother."

The faint ghost of a smile flickered across her lips momentarily.

"It's good to see you too, Hero," came her reply.

Reaver winced at the nickname with brought back many unsavory memories of a beautiful, untouchable woman by the name of Sparrow.

"Don't call me that, witch," he snapped.

"I wonder…do you know who that is?" she nodded towards Lisbet.

Reaver shrugged casually, tossing back his glossy fringe.

"Is that a trick question? She's Lisbet Whitehart, I believe."

Teresa really smiled then and the deviant felt somewhat…unnerved.

"You know who she is."

The way she said made Reaver pause for thought, blood freezing in his veins. Surely it wasn't what he thought…

She couldn't be her. She had been dead for centuries, his punishment for the sins he'd committed that night. A punishment he'd obediently lived with.

"Haven't we been through this? Lady. Lisbet. Whitehart. Or do you want me to spell it for you?"

In response, Teresa said one word, but that word was enough to force tears to Reaver's eyes and make him grab the sorceress by the neck.

"You liar! How can you lie about a thing like that? You disgusting whore! I'll slit your throat myself!"

Teresa calmly threw the enraged ex-pirate back and held him in place with her unmatched telekinesis. The deviant struggled madly against her magic.

"Look into my eyes, Reaver, and you shall see the truth."

She walked over to him and put both hands either side of his head, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"How?" he finally asked after an age of silence.

"You have been punished enough, Reaver. You didn't live a single day where you weren't overwhelmed with crushing remorse, and so, the gods have returned her to you."

He looked at Lisbet who looked so much like her, but at the same time looked nothing like her. Her features were more cat-line and exotic, whereas hers had been like a china doll. The colour of her eyes was the same, however.

"She's not her. She was soft and tender. Gentle and sweet. Lisbet is…fiery. Stubborn. Spirited. The complete opposite to her."

Teresa walked over to the sleeping girl and stroked her hair.

"You said it yourself; she was too soft for this world. So she was reborn, reincarnated, into the body of another. Into the body of someone more suited for you. Everyone has their soul-mate, Reaver. She is yours."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"No. they are nothing alike."

"The may have different personalities and different looks, but they share the same soul. At certain times, when you trigger a vague memory of her past life, the her you so cherish will take over."

Lisbet giggled, obviously dreaming.

"But she is not the woman I fell in love with. She is nothing but a vessel to me," he said darkly. Teresa shook her head sadly.

"I'm sad to hear that, Reaver, truly. It's a pity you'd let her looks govern what fate has decreed it meant to be. You'll come round, I think. Farewell, Hero."

With the witch gone, Reaver was free to move again. He tossed his bedroll as far as he could. He didn't want to be near…her.

She wasn't his true love. They were complete and utter opposites. But even as eh thought this to himself, he knew that Lisbet had already forged a bond between them. The moment she'd raised her pistol fearlessly to his forehead without hesitation, he'd been enchanted by her.

And frankly, it terrified him. He'd only felt like this once before and that had ended in chaos. No, he would not go down that route again. Love was dangerous. It blinded even the most dutiful of men and turned them into feeling, selfish beings. No. Years he'd spent trying to rise from the ashes, years! He would not lose it all because of some pretty dame who batted her eyelashes at him.

The truth was; she, and she alone, could finally break him. So, he had no choice; soul mate or not.

She had to die.

Oooh! I wonder what'll happen next! Haha, jk, I know. :P Had you guessed that Lisbet was her reincarnated? I don't really know where that idea sprung from...Ugh. Reaver is totally OC in this. I'll make sure he's more Reaver-diva-ish in the next chapter.

Anyways, please read and review! You know you want to... XD

Toodle-pip!