Secrets
By Lindsay R. Honosky
Epilogue: A Familiar Face
Holy crap two chapters (sorta) in one night? What's wrong with me? Anyway, this is sort of an intro into my next story, which I should have up pretty soon, what with this fire under my butt and all. I hope you all read it; I would love you all forever~ lol Please tell me what you think, even if it's to stop the madness of my next story before it even begins!
"Come along now, Hatch; please do not tarry." His boots clicked pleasantly on the newly paved courtyard, his trained eye admiring the near perfect symmetry with which it had been crafted. The castle walls encompassed him, keeping the area blessedly cool from the torturing summer sun. Reaver removed custom-made goggles from contact colored eyes, both devices of his own make, as he looked upon the ever white castle. It seemed larger than he remembered, and far less abandoned, as people from all walks of life came in and out of the imposing fortress; an array of colors that would truly dazzle the eye.
The young man who was now in is employment came running up from behind, the rather large white box seeming to impede the boy's progress, "I...I'm twying, Mastah Weavah!" Reaver laughed as he caught the boy eying a particularly well endowed young woman who sauntered past him.
Reaver clicked his tongue, "Barry, do behave while we visit Her Majesty. I'd rather not beat you senseless before her gentle eyes."
"Ye-yes, Mastah Weavah, of couwse."
"And do work on that speach impediment as well," Reaver crinkled his nose, "it is rather endearing, however in the presence of royalty one must be at their best."
"B-but Mastah Weavah, I can't-!"
"Then remain silent; I had no illusions you would say much anyway." Reaver began to ascend the stairs that would lead into the entrance hall, receiving a few hateful looks from those who knew him not. And who would, what with his new look. He decided to go back to his natural color; though his raven locks were mostly hidden by a rather tall top hat, his goggles now resting along the lip of said hat. His usual reds and golds were now replaced by whites and blacks, a brown vest the only color breaking the muted pattern. No longer did he wear his beloved goatee; the look was running a bit long in the tooth. Instead he decided to tattoo a small black heart where his mole used to be, a small joke to a particular man who did not appreciate being thrown from Reaver's bed.
The years had been strange, of that he would tell anyone. The once rag-tag groups of small hamlets now turned into a bustling society, and Bowerstone had simply blossomed into a powerful metropolis. He knew their Hero Queen took credit for most of the changes, however if it wasn't for his keen mind and eye for machinery, the industrial quarter would never have been created. True, it wasn't as illustrious as he'd hoped, as the Queen had yet to grant him an audience to discuss certain methods that would allow for further growth, but that would all end today. Or at least, he hoped it would. A smile crinkled the small heart under his eye as a smile came unbidden to his face; there was more than business he would like to discuss with the monarch.
They were stopped by a pair of soldiers who stood at the base of a grand staircase that lead to the upper floors of the palace. Reaver smiled arrogantly, leaning on his custom-made cane, "Good day, gentlemen! Might I say you look rather dashing in those uniforms."
The guards were clearly uncomfortable, which only made Reaver smile wider. One of them coughed, "State your name and business."
"My name is Reaver, and I am here to discuss just that."
"Master Reaver?" From atop the stairway Reaver found a rather skinny looking fellow with graying black hair tied back in a rather charming bow. He was holding a silver tray, yet no tea pot with cups adorned it. Instead there lay a small wooden sword, the poor thing looking rather dinged up. He wore what one would assume a butler would wear, and by his demenor he was most certainly that, "Mister Sampson, you may let them pass. Her Majesty is expecting them."
"Of course, Jasper." The soldier said, stepping aside. Both of them shot Reaver suspicious looks, and even more suspicious looks at the box which Barry carried.
Once atop the stairs Reaver smiled down at the rather tiny man, "I assume by what the rather dashing young fellow said, you are to be called Jasper?"
"One simply falls in awe at your amazing wit, sir." The butler turned, apparently comfortable in his Queen's protection.
Reaver saw Barry's face twitch, and he held up a gloved hand, "Remember what I told you, Hatch." The boy said nothing; instead he followed along quietly as they were led back down the stairs and through a study, then the kitchens, and finally out into a handsome garden that was in full, lush green glory. Reaver grumbled as the sun hit his eyes, everything seeming to go a bit brown thanks to his contacts. He quickly put those goggles back over his eyes, the world seeming to return to its natural hues and shades.
Jasper lead them down a set of stairs and to the left, where a rather nice gazebo stood, surrounded by finely shaped shrubbery. There Reaver saw a face he thought he would never see again. It had aged, make no mistake, but still held that natural beauty that he had admired since their first meeting. Chestnut hair had small strands of gray running through it, and as she turned her head they shimmered like tiny veins of silver. As he suspected, her attire was rather plain, though still regal; a simple silken blouse with a long, robin egg blue skirt that went down to her ankles. Her blue eyes were buried in a book of some sort, and he smiled as the familiar wrinkles of her thinking face met between well-sculpted eyebrows.
Jasper stopped, put his feet together, and with his free hand coughed, "Your Majesty, your guests have arrived."
"Huh?" She raised her eyes from her pages, and as soon as they met Reaver's own confusion spread across her face. For a moment he though she wouldn't recognize him, then a small smile appeared on her delicate face, and she said, "Reaver."
He bowed deeply, amazed that his hat stayed in place, "Your Majesty. It has been to long."
She stood and began to walk towards them, "Please, Sparrow will do for you. And hello to you as well, Mr.-?"
"Hatch, my lady. Bawwy Hatch." The blush that bloomed on the young man's face was so red it almost matched his hair.
Sparrow smiled, "Well met." Her eyes traveled to the contents her butler was holding, and her smile soon faded, "I take it that firebrand of a daughter of mine is in trouble again?"
"Sir Walter is dealing with it as we speak."
"Who was her victim this time?" Sparrow asked, crossing her arms.
"A crow, believe it or not. She's quite fast, if I do say so myself."
She shook her head, perfect curls dancing about her shoulders, "What am I going to do with that girl?"
Reaver smirked, "That didn't sound to distressed, my dear."
A playful smile crossed the Queen's lips, "Nor was it supposed to. You would be amazed at her sheer talent, Reaver. I'm quite proud of the little rascal, though my advisers say I'm not turning her into a proper lady."
Jasper laughed, "Who's to judge what is proper or not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go find your children so they may begin their lessons."
"It was nice meeting you, Jasper. Thank you for reuniting me with my old friend," Reaver gave him a teasing glance, and laughed as the old man walked away rather uncomfortably.
When his eyes returned to Sparrows he laughed once more at the look on her face. She rubbed her eyes, her wedding band shining in the sunlight, "Please do not tease my friends. I'd rather they stay around."
"I'm sure it would take more than my flirting to drive away such bosom companions." He motioned to the bench Sparrow had previously occupied, "Shall we?"
"By all means." She smiled, letting him take her arm and guide her to the bench, Barry following close behind. She held her skirt as she sat back down, turning a critical eye towards his face, "You look...younger. Do I want to know?"
"Why, I believe you already do, so I shall not ruin this sunny day with the shadows of such dreary explanations. However, I must say you have aged rather gracefully."
"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or punch your smiling face, dear Reaver."
"Both would be acceptable, little Sparrow." His smile waned slightly as his eyes drifted to the crypt that now sat in the middle of the grand garden, "I am sorry about your loss. I would have come sooner, however I've heard rumors that I'm not well received by some of your underlings."
This time she did hit him, "I would prefer you call them my friends, thank you."
"Careful dear; you wouldn't want to crack a bone at your age. Rather hard to bounce back from such trauma."
She laughed, covering her mouth as she did so. Catching her breath, she asked, "So what is it that you want, Reaver? I've already given you permission to start building your factories, and I even allowed you to build that awfully gaudy mansion next to Bower Lake. To which, I must add, I thank you. Seems your presence has inspired some of the less tolerable nobles to buy up that land and build mansions of their own."
"My dear, have you ever considered shotgun diplomacy?"
"I do, however at each meeting I find my gun strangely empty of ammunition."
Reaver smiled, "You have good friends indeed."
"Yes," she closed her eyes, leaning back against the bench, "I do."
The sound of a child's laughter floated down from above the hill, and in the distance Reaver could make out a tiny little girl with chestnut hair, racing down the steps. Behind her was a young man with raven black hair, a smile visible even from their vantage-point, following the younger girl. Standing next to him was a middle-aged man with thick brown hair, and an even thicker mustache and beard combo that hid most of his face. Reaver tapped his cane on the ground, "Barry, do be a dear and dispense of our package."
"Huh? Oh, yes! Mastah Weavah, wight away!" The boy practically ran from their view, an amused smile spreading ever wider on Reaver's face.
Sparrow raised an eyebrow, "Should I be worried?"
"My dear, when have I ever given you cause for worry."
"A few examples come to mind."
"Of course. Then set your mind at ease, my beloved Queen, and look upon what I bring." He motioned his cane with a flourish towards his servant, who was now breathless and bending over in front of a very confused yet excited little girl. Annoyed, Reaver shouted, "Oh Barry! Please stop scaring the child and give her the box!"
The young man shot up, looked at him, then back at the little girl, who had now crossed her arms and began tapping her foot. Tiny pigtails stuck out behind her ears, a single blue headband holding what hair it could in place. There was dirt all over the hem of her blue dress, and from what he could tell from here she was missing a shoe. The tiny face became alit with wonder as the big white box exited Barry's hand and entered her own, the young man with black hair joining them. Sparrow and Reaver could hear her excited intake of breath as the girl opened the lid, staring down into its contents. She looked up at Barry and said something neither could hear, but Reaver assumed she asked who had brought her the gift, as Barry's finger soon pointed towards his person. The little girl's eyes were practically beaming as she looked at him, then they returned to the inside of the box, her arms disappearing behind its walls.
When they came back into view a small black and white bundle occupied them, the tiny head furiously licking her face. She giggled, the small puppy barking and whining in her arms. In an instant the tiny girl and her burden stood before him, smiling to the point of tears, "Oh...oh thank you, mister! Thank you so much!"
"Of course, my dear. Now, do enjoy him."
The girl looked confused, as if she were forgetting something. Then realization came to her face, and she put the puppy down and curtsied, "I thank you as princess of Albion. May I ask your name?"
Reaver laughed, clearly amused, "Why, dear girl, you may call me Reaver. May I ask the same?"
She looked to her mother, who nodded, "I am Lilith; a pleasure to meet you." Her eyes once again went to her mother, who was now petting the tiny, furry thing at her feet, "Can I go now? Walter's going to tell us about the time you fought all those balverines!"
"Of course, sweetheart, have fun." She smiled as she watched her daughter racing off, the puppy at her heels. Once she was well out of earshot, Sparrow elbowed Reaver, "A dog, eh? I hope you're not thinking of turning my daughter into an adventure."
"One who poses for statues in a flirtatious matter? Why, my dear Sparrow, do you take me for some sort of deviant." He gave her his most devilish grin.
She returned it with one of her own, "I'll have you know her brother is most protective of his dear little sister. I'd watch yourself in the future."
"Duly noted." His eyes drifted back to the happy scene that was the children sitting down before the old soldier, both enraptured by the tale he was weaving. Reaver crossed his legs, "They are beautiful, your children. I am happy for you."
"So am I...Reaver," her voice changed from its lighthearted chime to a more dire note, "there is a reason why I called you here."
"And here I was hoping you were dying for a night of raw passion, 'til we both lay panting from the ravishing throws of our love making."
She laughed, though the sadness didn't leave her voice, "Reaver...I'm...not long, for this world. I can feel it as sure as I can feel the wind upon my face." She held up her hand, stopping him before he could comment, "I know I do not seem like it, but I know this to be true. I'm nearly eighty, Reaver; even Heroes grow old eventually." She smiled slightly, "Well, most of us, anyway."
He frowned, eyes hidden behind the lenses of his goggles, "I would offer a solution, yet before I even said it I know you would refuse."
"Yes," she laughed, "you are quite right. However, I would appreciate a favor, if you are willing to give one."
"Ask, my dear Sparrow, and it shall be done."
"I know my children will never be alone, what with Jasper and Walter here to look after them, but they won't be around forever. Not like you, at any rate. So I ask you; please, look after them? I'm not asking for a babysitter, so please don't expect I want you to move in and play nanny, just be there for them when..." Her eyes hardened, "When the time comes."
"And what time will that be?"
"You'll know when it happens," she said with a haunting smile.
They were silent for a time, both watching as the children oohed and awed at tales long ago, a small laugh escaping Sparrow as she saw Reaver's servant doing nearly the same. After a while the story ended, and the young girl had seemed to drift off to sleep. Her brother seemed to sigh, then placed the tiny thing upon his back, following the old soldier to a room up the stairs. Reaver motioned for Barry to stay where he was as he turned his head to Sparrow and smiled, "There is another gift I bring. One for you." She watched him curiously as he reached into his pocket and produced a tiny, worn piece of paper.
As it entered Sparrow's hands she looked down at it with tears in her eyes, "Oh my...where...?" Sparkling eyes met his, "Where did you find this?"
"On one of my expeditions, though I'd rather not say where I found it. Hunting it down was one of the reasons for my delay, but once I heard of its existence I simply had to find it-!"
He was cut off as her arms wrapped around him, poorly hidden sobs lacing her words, "Thank you...thank you so much, Reaver."
Regaining himself, Reaver patted her back, "Now now, my dear, what will your subjects say if they see you hugging such a dashing young man."
She kissed his cheek, tears falling down her own, "I had thought this lost forever. What with Barnum being dead," she eyed him flatly for a moment, "no thanks to you, I might add, I thought this picture lost forever."
He stood then, smiling, "Well, lost it is no more, and I believe it will receive more appreciation in your hands. Now, on that note, my dear little Sparrow, I bid you adue. A wealthy businessman like myself has to many affairs to be dallying about in a royal garden," he winked, "no matter how pleasing the company."
"Of course," she returned his smile, holding the picture to her heart, "take care, Reaver. And do refrain from shooting anyone on your way out; I'd hate to have to arrest you."
As Barry rejoined him Reaver only winked and laughed, "You could try, my dear Sparrow." He started to walk away, waving, "You'd fail, but you can try."
Me: Aw, that was cute.
Reaver: What utter rubbish. I would never act like that.
Me: Uh-huh. I bet under that flamboyant, phycotic exterior you're a real softy. *Starts poking the bear*
Reaver: My dear, be glad I wish to see your next story, least that cute face of yours be riddled by bullets.
Me: Cute? Just cute? I'm damn sexy!
Reaver: Truly? Then perhaps you'd like to attend one of my private parties?
Me: I-I gotta go! BUBAAAAAAAI~