'Closer, My Darling'
Authors Note: I took a small hiatus writing this chapter to overview what I wanted to do in my head. The entire story thus far has been leading up to this, but I'm thinking this is only the beginning. We all know Reaver is a devious man and likely has his own agenda to fill when he offers niceties such as a royal ball, however reluctantly it may have been accepted. The ball will likely be split into two separate chapters, since a single one would be one HELL of a sitting.
'A devil in a black dress watches over,
My guardian angel walks away
Life is short and love is always over in the morning,
Black wind come carry me far away'
The rain had stopped falling hours before, but the smell of precipitation lingered heavily in the warm summer air. The night was hot and slightly humid, though a soft breeze brought relief to anyone fortunate enough to cross its path. Darkness had taken rule over the celestial sphere, allowing the stars to lend their light brilliantly across the indigo firmament that ruled the heavens. Across Albion, the hour just after dusk was referred to as 'Vault of the Heavens', when the stars shined their fiercest and the full moon rose in the sky, allowing those who would partake to bask in its glorious presence, radiance reflecting lightly off of the silver clouds.
Seraphina greatly enjoyed the times she could stand on her balcony, basking in the moonlight, looking contemplatively over her kingdom. It brought her a sense of peace and calm that couldn't quite be felt anywhere else since she had taken the throne. It seemed every moment of her day was spent on calculating taxes or conducting meetings. She lived and breathed for her kingdom during the day, but midnight was her own. On this night, however, she had entirely different obligations trespassing on her private time.
She sat in the plush compartment of her carriage which was maneuvering its way up the small cobblestone path of Millfields. From across the way, she could see Reaver's mansion competing with the night sky for dominance of beauty. It had been heavily lit, a luminous beacon that seemed to announce to anyone that could witness it that a great event was being held, and to those unfortunate enough to be lower class, a snide and passive snuff that successfully rubbed their lack of status in their faces. The ostentatiousness of it all left a sour feeling brewing in her stomach.
It would only be several moments before her carriage pulled up to the guarded iron gates of the manor. She smoothed her dress down her knees anxiously, recalling the few moments before she had left the castle grounds. Delilah had complimented her looks several times while tending to her thick charcoal hair, piling her newly curled mane into messy ringlets atop her head, pulling down a few random strands for an elegant look and then successfully tying her mask underneath. Delilah had also escorted her to the doors, wishing her good luck before she departed.
Hobson kept his same, sickening smile while rambling on about how a 'good monarch' should behave at such an event. She chose to tune him out, ignoring whatever implications he was tipping her. Jonathan had greeted her kindly, taking her hand as he helped her into the carriage. Although it was not entirely necessary, she appreciated the sentiment.
The Queen had been deep in her thoughts ever since, rereading the note Reaver had slipped her in the attire box over and over in her head. Several lines didn't quite sit right with her. Lines such as 'I have a little surprise planned for this evening, and I do hope you shall enjoy it' and 'I assure you that every aspect of tonight was planned with you distinctly in mind'. She had known Reaver far too long to not be noticeably suspicious and on guard when he said anything of the sort.
The carriage began to slow as they were no doubt reaching the guard post just outside the gated estate. She could feel the weight shift as Jonathan stepped down off the horse masters' plateau to approach the small post where a few guards stood watch. He approached them, no doubt announcing her arrival. The gate was opened and the carriage began to move slowly once more, followed by several guards in royal uniform along with it. She looked out at the large statue of Reaver that had been strategically placed just outside the gates, rolling her eyes at his impeccable narcissism. Only Reaver would place a large, marbled statue of himself right outside his own home. She had been here many times, but each time her sense of surprise and disgust was renewed.
Out her window, she noticed the crimson banners that usually hung from Reaver's front door had been replaced with royal purple ones that bore her seal. Seraphina couldn't deny that this surprised her a little. Reaver was a man to draw as much attention to himself as possible, but it was after all her coronation party, and his clunky, industrialized mark would stick out like a sore thumb, aesthetic and moral wise.
Her entourage stopped just short of the entryway staircase into the manor. She could hear noblemen and women crowed just outside the doors to the mansion and all along the front garden, pushing and shoving each other drunkenly about to get a look at the carriage that was being made such a fuss of. 'No doubt the wine cellar has already been opened. Sure hope they know what they're in for.' She thought bitterly, recalling the last few times she had been in the presence of Reaver and liquor.
The guards gathered in organized fashion just outside of her carriage doors, pushing back stragglers that would stray too far from the rest of the herded drunks. Jonathan once again stepped down from his post, standing just outside her carriage doors, his hand awaiting on the handle with anticipation.
"May I present, her Majesty Queen Seraphina, savior of Albion and ruler of the Realm!" His voice echoed throughout the quarter. She closed her eyes and placed her palm to her forehead over her small mask for a brief moment. Everyone in all of Millfields could have heard that, and that meant that Reaver most likely did too. So much for sneaking in unnoticed. He opened her compartment door and kneeled down before her, offering her a hand as she stepped down from the gilded carriage, pulling her dress up just enough so not to fumble. Placing both feet on the ground, she thanked him and helped pull him up.
The Queen glanced around the crowds of nobles that flocked before her. Many cheered, drunkenly clapping and hollering with great enthusiasm, but looks of snobbery could be easily found as well. Many of the noblewomen sent envious looks to her attire and accessories, folding their arms and looking away dismissively. Some of the noblemen who had their business regulated more strictly under her rule gave her distinct looks of disapproval. Seraphina was quite used to this. There was one thing that she noticed immediately after scanning the crowd, however. Everyone was donning white attire.
Silvery threaded dresses and opalescent coats were all that could be seen. Even the hats and various masks that adorned them seemed to shimmer with an alabaster gleam. She glanced down at her own attire self consciously, suddenly very aware at quite how dark she was amongst the frosted masses. 'I suppose this is more appropriate. It feels like I'm attending a funeral. A very loud, drunken, anonymous funeral.' She did her best to dismiss the vast hue differences in color between her wealthy subjects and herself.
She made her way up the embellished stone steps of Reaver's mansion. The heavily wooded doors were pulled open immediately when her foot made contact with the top step, revealing the innards of his home. She almost lost her breath as she stared inside. Everything was white. The grand staircase had been adorned with a white carpet that fell gracefully down its steps and led to the front door. Tables and stands revealed milky threaded coverings. Ivory candles and lanterns were placed randomly throughout the home. The glasses and plates placed in the hands of the attendees were a translucent crystal to give the illusion of pallid colorlessness. Even the mahogany colored furnishings that once made settlement in the room had been replaced with ashen furniture instead.
Seraphina glanced around uncomfortably, looking for a familiar face or even a friendly one, only to remember with dismay that it was a masquerade party. Everyone in this room was completely anonymous. She made her way through the crowd what appeared to be an empty sofa, an ebony mistress surrounded by overwhelming amounts of chalky figures. The only found relief in the fact that Reaver was no where to be seen. Even amongst these equally stuffy, expensively dressed people, Reaver had an air about him that mirrored a vacuum. A black hole of a personality that sucked everything inside of it, drawing attention from everything in the room and placing it upon himself, only relinquishing it when he saw fit.
She sat down onto the plush velvet sofa, attempting to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It was a difficult task seeing as everything, inanimate and living alike, contrasted her attire so starkly. She was a raven hiding amongst doves. She heaved a sigh and placed her hand on her palm, pondering how long she would have to stay here before it would no longer be scandalous to leave.
"And then a devilishly handsome soldier by the name of Ben Finn approached the seemingly distressed maiden, offering her some much needed companionship." A playful voice announced in front of her. Glancing upward, she saw none other than her companion and battle buddy General Benjamin Finn. His face was also adorned with a mask, but his styled flaxen hair was unmistakable behind it. He was wearing what appeared to be a solid white soldiers uniform with black battle boots underneath. She furrowed her eyes at his attire, looking up at him questionably with a small grin emerging onto her face.
"Before you ask, please don't. I took an old soldiers uniform and soaked it in bleach for a few hours. A few scrubbins and heave sessions later and voila! Instant ridiculous party attire!" He beheld his hands over his outfit mockingly before pulling her into an embrace. "Couldn't do nothin' about the boots though." He glanced down at them and clacked them together lightly. The Queen couldn't help but to give a small chortle of laughter at him.
"You seem to know what's going on much more than I do. Why is everyone wearing white? Speaking of it, have you seen Reaver?" She glanced around anxiously.
"Why is everyone wearing white? Didn't you receive the invitation?" Ben looked at her with a quizzical expression.
"I seem to have been left out of that particular memo list. I received a note with a date and time and a box with this in it." She picked up bits of her train and showed it to him. She was hoping to avoid spilling the 'petty' details about hers and Reavers meetings.
"Ah, well, no matter. I seem to have a spare invitation around here somewhere." He waved it off and began searching his various pockets. She was thankful he didn't pry any deeper into what she had said. "Although if it is any consolation, the dress is quite lovely." He offered her a smile. "I'd have worn it myself if I had one!" He laughed at his own joke, and she laughed with him, more amused by how funny he found himself than by what he had said. "Here we are." He took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and attempted to smooth it on his trousers. After a few seconds, he handed it to her and she began reading the small yet expensive looking note.
'Attention to all with the means to attend,
We are gathering to celebrate our dearest monarch's late coronation ceremony. Join us for a night of revelry as we celebrate in the prosperity of the kingdom together. It is to be held in the lavish estate of the head of Reaver industries, Reaver himself. The theme is to be virginal and white, a symbol and tribute to our Queen's purity of heart and morality as ruler.
Open bar will be served.
Ruffians and rabble will be escorted off the premises on sight.'
At the bottom of the invitation were the finer details, such as date and time. The Queen was blushing hard by the time her eyes met the bottom of the page.
"Did everyone in the kingdom receive this?" She crumpled it in her hands, her mind still swimming with the words 'virginal' and 'purity'. Did Reaver even know the meaning of those words? He had obviously not written the invitations himself, but he had no doubt dictated them.
"It would appear so, Majesty. Although I'm sure you've taken notice to the fact that only nobility and aristocrats are among us tonight. 'Ruffians and rabble." He mimicked Reaver with a ridiculous and flouncy gesture. "What a bastard." He reached for a nearly full cup that someone had left on a nearby table and took a deep swig out of it. "To answer your question, no. I haven't seen the pompous blighter around all night, although no one has really been here that long. I'm relatively thankful for it. He probably spends more time on his makeup and dress than you do." He chortled.
"He makes a statement about my purity, and then places me, and only me in black. I'm not going to bother looking further into it." She rolled her eyes. "Do you think it would be appropriate if I left yet?" She glanced around yet again.
"Oh, according to his 'servants', the party hasn't even begun yet. The ballroom doors haven't even been unlocked. He did, however, open the bar to keep us quiet. That's the one bloody thing I'll thank him for." He stated, tossing the now empty cup carelessly behind him.
"I thought something felt a little off. I've had the misfortune of attending one of Reaver's parties before, and this hardly meets ends." She said, more than a little disappointed that it was too soon to make her way home. "I didn't even see the ballroom, but I did see the rest of the manor, and it was completely thrashed by the time we arrived." She thought back to the 'secret society meeting' she and Page had snuck into contemptuously, recalling the several inebriated guests and destroyed furniture. "Who else is here? Have you seen anyone?" She quickly changed the subject.
"Page received an invite, but refused to go. Even with me. I did ask her, you know." He made a sour face at the rejection. "Sabine would have come in here guns blazing, so you would have no doubt noticed him. Kalin is back in Aurora and isn't set to come back for a few more weeks. I'm afraid it's just you and me here tonight in this vast wasteland of.. free drinks and beautiful women." His eyes wandered over to a small group of ladies that sat giggling in the corner.
The Queen pursed her mouth. She had been hoping that at least one or two of her former friends would be here. She would have given a limb to see Sabine attend. Watching the vicious little man go toe-to-toe with Reaver would have no doubt put a smile on her face. "I'll be back. I need a drink." She remarked to Ben, who didn't appear to be listening. He was 'inconspicuously' flexing his muscles for the ladies. She rolled her eyes, a small smile gracing her lips as she walked away.
Seraphina approached the bar, carefully reading the bottles before pouring one into her glass. Nothing from Aurora for me this time, she thought to herself. She loved to drink, but she also liked to drink. She didn't want to have 3 glasses and be done with it. She also had the feeling that a skirmish with Reaver with her drunk and in a dress wouldn't end well on her part. She swirled the wine around in her hands, examining the maroon concoction before taking a sweet sip of it. It was high quality and deep, with a small hint of oak. She raised her eyebrows, nodding slightly to herself while she carried it back to where Ben was standing looking disappointed. She sent him an inquisitive look.
"Married." He said pointedly. "Can't say I didn't try, but even my unmatchable prowess with the fairer sex is bound to fail sometimes." The Queen rolled her eyes and keeled in laughter.
"Yes Ben, you do quite well for yourself. You've only been rejected twice today." Her laughter echoed up the walls.
"Yet I have succeeded many more." He raised his eyebrow, making a faux handsome face with a stuffy expression. The Queen snickered again. Their banter was broken by the voice of one of the manor's elder staff calling attention to himself.
"Excuse me everyone, but the time for celebration has arrived. The ballroom is being opened, and the bar restocked." The older gentleman had a distinct way of rolling his R's in a posh manner. Cries of approval erupted from the guests at the mention of a restocked bar. Even Ben threw his hands into the air end let out a little cry. Seraphina snorted at Ben's apparent drunkenness. "If you will all follow me, I shall escort you to the estate ballroom." The servant turned on his heels.
Before the senior man could even begin to move, hoards of drunken guests were flocking up the stairs toward him. He simply turned and continued walking toward the ballroom until he was out of sight.
"I suppose we should make our way up there, right? That's what we're supposed to do?" Ben eyed the empty wine table.
"Yes, I suppose it is. Come on you drunken lug." They began making their way toward the ballroom.
"Hey, I am not that inebriated. Not yet anyways. I intend to be properly good and plastered on Reaver's hard earned expensive liquors before I leave this place." He rubbed his hands together as they made their way down the various hallways, avoiding clumsy and overly intoxicated party attendees that stood in their way, finally reaching a large pair of marbled double doors. Seraphina had never seen the ballroom before. The last time she had been under the impression she was on her way there, she was tricked into an underground battle arena.
"You ready for this?" Ben looked over at her.
"As ready as I'm ever going to be." She pushed the doors open, joining the massive mob that had already clustered itself around the ivory marble enclosure, save a large open space that laid just under a grand staircase embellished with a plush crimson carpet that led to another large entryway that was sealed off with red velvet ropes. The room itself was made mostly empty for dancing, with the exception of a small stage off to the left where a band was set to play and a large oak door labeled 'Wine Cellar' and a rather large, rectangular oak table filled with glasses and a few entrees so the guests would never be too far from their source of joy. All along the edges of the room were massive marbled pillars holding up what appeared to be a pallid stone mini roof that overstretched the pillars themselves by just a few inches, making a darkened stone alcove around the radius of the rounded chamber.
"It's rather extravagant, isn't it?" Ben remarked, looking around the massive marble ballroom. "Wish I had a house like this. I'd be throwing these bloody balls all the time." He stopped, keeling in laughter after realizing what he just said. Seraphina placed her hand to her mouth, resisting the urge to chuckle at his crude joke. A few straggled guests made their way into the room, most notably back toward the wine cellar. It was several moments before everyone had successfully made their way inside and any matter of event happened.
The elder serviceman that had directed them toward the ballroom was standing at the top of the stairs with his hands properly behind his back. "Ladies and gentlemen." His voice was loud and booming, catching the attention of all the guests. The banter and loud conversations all halted as they stopped and turned toward the grand staircase.
"May I present to you, your host for this evening. Lord Reaver."