"Closer, my Darling"
Authors Note: That last chapter was intense to write, there's no doubt about it. I could waste more time writing petty details about the Queen's schedule in between her meeting with Reaver, but that's not why we're here, is it? Please don't get your hopes too high, I'm doing my best to write realistically (I realize that Reaver is somewhat hostile towards her, but that's how I see it in the game, and I believe that it would take time for him to act upon romantic aspirations toward her and vice versa as well.) I have high hopes, but I cannot guarantee that I can live up to them. Either way, this will be a short chapter. It's more of a "lead up" than anything. This was more or less a quick chapter, and prone to error.
'Feels like you're making a mess
You're hell on wheels in a black dress
You drove me to the fire
And left me there to burn '
It was a stifling Tuesday evening in Bowerstone Castle. Rain pounded quietly on the window as Queen Seraphina sat with her head buried in her hands at her heavy wooded study desk. The smell of water on grass permeated her room, but not even the calming scent could relinquish her uncertainty about the day. Several days had passed since her last altercation with Reaver, and she dare say that she had enjoyed the sense of silence that came from his absence. However, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that had taken hold of her since that evening. His blatant defiance of her stature had set her on edge, and had proven that he was by no means threatened by her queenly status.
Each day when her personal mail was delivered, she felt a small flood of panic overtake her senses, fearing that the letter would bear the scarlet seal that dramatically announced Reaver's calling even in his omitted presence. It was only a matter of time before that letter reached her door, and she was dead set on maintaining every second until that moment arrived. She dreaded returning to his plush mansion with its deceptive and impeccable appearance. What took place on the inside was nothing short of monstrous. It was an illusion of perfection, concealing absolute horror. She wanted no part of it.
However, she knew the day would come shortly and knowing her luck, most likely sooner than later. Reaver wasn't the type to just drop a subject like this, especially when he felt he had the upper hand. It irritated her beyond all reprieve to know that he believed he had the advantage, and it frustrated her all the more to know that he did. A monarch was indeed replaceable, and she knew that to be true. She had replaced one herself.
An industrial Lord on the other hand required specific skills, and skills not easily replaced. She vowed not to fall before him, and that was a promise that she intended to keep. The question was how to keep her promise without crushing her kingdom in the process. Her mind turned toward the glass he had shattered, and just how easily he had destroyed it between his fingers as if was nothing more than a mere hindrance. She pondered if he could truly crush her monarchy as effortlessly.
She was shaken from her inner monologue by a quiet knock on her door. Quickly dispelling her thoughts, she rose from her seat and walked toward the entryway, feeling her heart pumping in her every footstep. Before she could think on it any further, she quickly closed her hand around the knob and turned it, yanking the door open with more force than was necessary. Hobson stood before her, smiling pleasantly while inconspicuously holding his hands behind his back. She heaved a deep sigh while staring him down lazily. She hadn't quite forgiven him for betraying her schedule to Reaver, and he was under permanent speculation for his commentary.
"What is it, Hobson?" Her voice was unenthusiastic and apathetic, doing her best to feign nonchalance. She prayed her wild heartbeat and flushed skin wouldn't be too apparent. He simply gave her a sordid smile, thumbing at the parchment in his hands tantalizingly.
"Such a dreadful day, wouldn't you say, your Majesty?" His toothy grin made her cringe slightly. Surely somewhere in this castle was a spare toothbrush he could make use of.
"I rather like the rain." She stated pointedly, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Yes, I suppose you would. It does, after all, make life so much easier for your gardeners." He was stalling, building up climax. Hobson only acted this cheeky when he was finding amusement in her despair. She knew this could only mean one thing. Anxiety filled her being, and she found herself at an inner conflict. She was anxious to read the letter and get it over with. At the same time, she was savoring the time before she was forced to acknowledge it.
"I don't suppose you knocked on my chambers to discuss the weather?" She eyed the letters he was holding behind his back.
"Of course not, your Majesty." He paused, provoking her impatience and irritation further.
"Well, if that will be all..." She tried to shut the door, only to find his foot holding it ajar. She bit her lip, and swung it back open. "What might you need, Hobson?" The Queen placed her fingers to her temples.
"You see, I have here several letters addressed to the monarchy." He flipped through them carelessly. She narrowed her eyes, searching for the gilded crimson seal.
"You are planning on handing them over to me, correct?" She was reaching the peak of her annoyance.
"Of course, your Highness." He bowed and submitted the letters to her, but only after a moment longer of sustaining the silence. She snatched them from his grip before he could find another excuse to keep them from her.
"Expecting something, your Majesty?" His voice was ridiculing, mocking her apparent concern. She had officially run out of tolerance and slammed the door in his face once more. Through the oak, she could hear him chuckle as he made his way back down the corridor. She took a deep swallow, holding the thick pieces of parchment in her hands. Chances stood that one of them was inevitably the signature that she had been fearful of. Making her way back to her desk, she sat down apprehensively as she placed the stack carefully in front of her.
It was no more or less mail than she normally received. No reason to panic, she told herself. She had yet to see an ostentatious wax design yet. She fingered through the mail. A few from the Lords of Providences seeking assistance, a small amount from villagers needing a judge to settle a dispute and requesting an audience, and one or two containing a recount of the royal budget. It wasn't until she reached the end of the small bundle that she saw it plain as daylight. A blood red seal embellished with the double R's around a gear.
Panic set in as she stared at the envelope for several seconds. She picked it up, flipping it over to the opposite side to check the address. Just as she had suspected, it was addressed straight from his mansion, not a bill of some sort or another from one of his factories. She felt her fingers tremble slightly as she fumbled into her drawers looking for her letter opener, her eyes never leaving the seal.
Seraphina finally brought herself to pull out the fine parchment from the envelope, hesitating before she opened it fully. She unfolded the paper onto her desk, biting her lip so hard that she felt a cool, metallic liquid fill her mouth. She swallowed back the blood and fear and read the fine lettering, temporarily swallowing her distress as well.
'8 O'clock, Friday evening.
-Reaver'
She stared in disbelief at the letter. It was one line with the exception of his gaudy signature which took up several inches as usual. There was no taunting edict, no insinuating or suggestive pick up, and no threatening pretense. She squinted her eyes, picking up the letter and rereading the sentence over and over. After several times, she finally sat it back down and stared into oblivion with disbelief. The man was utterly unpredictable.
8 O'clock Friday evening was the date he had set, Seraphina had no doubt about that, but she found it beyond belief that he had resisted throwing in some sort of mockery or gibe into the letter itself. Exhaling and furrowing her eyebrows, she rubbed her temples harshly. She wasn't quite sure if she was relieved or suspicious that the letter had been so simple. It wasn't Reaver's style, not in the slightest.
There was another heavy knock at her door, jolting her from her deep thoughts and suspicions. She gritted her teeth with irritation as she stormed over to her door. Furiously swinging it open, she was greeted by the distrustfully amiable face of her butler once more.
"What might you need, Hobson. I'm quite busy." Her voice was heavy with aggravation.
"There's just one more thing, your Majesty." A small derisive sneer formed in his smile. She arched her eyebrow at him inquisitively. He simply handed her a large black package that had been decorated with a styled wine-red ribbon. She took the sizable delivery from his hands, searching it for a tag. He was gone before she brought her eyes from the box. She kicked the door closed with her heel, carrying it delicately to her desk where the rest of the mail resided. She flipped the case carefully from side to side, studying it. She hardly waited to sit down before ripping off the ribbon and removing the lid, anxiously peering into the mysterious package.
It only took her a few moments of breathless analyzing before discerning that the contents of the crate was indeed a formal dress. A closer look at the ribbon beheld a small 'R' inside of a cog embroidered in obsidian thread.