'Closer, My Darling'
Authors Note: Going in for the second part. I've done my best to portray Reaver, because frankly his pompous and self-important ways are why I myself find him to be so attractive, but Ben Finn is a different story. I never particularly paid too much attention to Ben, although I did find his occasional commentary quite funny. This is a difficult chapter to write, as ballroom demeanor is difficult to translate from head to paper, but luckily that wasn't entirely the focus itself.
'Don't you try to hide with those angel eyes,
If you let me inside, I won't hold back this time,
Such a deep disguise, the devil is right inside,
More than paralyzed, Oh it's the chase you like'
The large mahogany doors burst open, revealing a form that could be none other than Reaver himself. His large, statuesque form dominated the doorway as he entered, tipping his hat slightly so wouldn't knock upon the entryway. He was adorned in an matte black suit, the lapels of black silk trimmed elegantly down the front. His trademark vest was visible underneath the his coat, but blackened to a charcoal color. The only part of his outfit that wasn't an obsidian color was his cane, which remained the normal wooded tint.
He held his hands up theatrically, holding his cane between his thumb and his index finger, as if allowing the crowd to bask in his presence. The room grew dead silent as he presented himself. He proceeded down the stairway slowly to build anticipation, his cane clacking loudly on the marble. Anxiety grew in Seraphina's stomach with every beat of metal upon stone. She was suddenly feeling very exposed in her slate outfit, contrasting against the snowy attire of the crowd.
His walk consisted of long, dramatic strides, each step consisting of the loud scrape of his boots against the unrolled carpet. His body swayed lazily, reminding the Queen of the way he had waltzed into the room upon her battle with the hobbes in his underground arena. He halted at the end of the steps, coming to a slow, exaggerated stop at the foot of the stairs, leaning back ever so slightly on his cane and over viewing the guests that crowded the marbled ballroom.
"My dearest friends, I welcome you to my most humble abode. I take it that you have all had your fill of joy and merriment as you awaited my presence?" He arched his eyebrow toward the crowd, cocking his head slightly to the side, resting both hands on the head of his cane. They cheered without hesitation, holding their wine glasses into the air. Seraphina huffed, partially wishing she had a wine glass of her own to down. She hadn't had quite enough to drink to deal with his extravagant demeanor quite yet. Only Reaver would feel the need to have an announcement ceremony that rivaled that of a monarch. Not that she minded his arrival was more pronounced than her own. She simply loathed his grandeur style.
"I am so delighted to hear it. I assure you no expense was spared in the preparation of tonight's celebration. Only the finest for my most honored guests." A small smirk graced his features as he scanned the crowd. "As you are all aware, there is a very special guest among us tonight. A presence with a most regal bearing." Reaver donned a devious grin as the crowd looked around amongst themselves, searching for said guest, obviously too dumb-drunk to realize the obvious hint he had given them.
Two servants scurried forth, unhooking the velveteen ropes that separated Reaver from the massive crowd as he began to walk forward. Seraphina felt a drop in her stomach, realizing his footsteps were drawing closer, yet she refused to look up. Ben looked at her, realizing the uncomfortable shifts in her stature. "You don't think he's coming over here, do you?" He whispered, though it sounded more like a statement as he instinctively placed his arm protectively in front of her.
The crowds parted like the sea before Moses as Reaver made his way closer and closer to the Queen and her companion, her muscles tensing with each small click of his cane on the marbled floor. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room falling upon her, bearing down remarkable weight. The clack of metal upon marble grew louder and more dramatic until it finally stopped right in front of her. Through her eyelashes, she could see his ebony boots waiting only inches from her own. She brought her darkened azure eyes up to meet Reaver's cold, golden ones as he stared down at her though a black mask that likened her own. The mask was purely decorative, as everyone in the kingdom would have known his presence even with his face hidden behind the satin embroidered porcelain.
He bowed dramatically before her, offering his hand to her own. She looked at it with a sense of hesitation, and then at the crowd around her with which was bathed in suspense, waiting to see if the Queen would take his hand. Ben shifted his glance to hers, a riding sense of worry plastered on his face.
"Don't worry, my sweet. I shan't bite." He lowered his voice so that only Ben and herself could hear. "Unless of course, that's what you desire, your Majesty." An antagonistic sneer took hold of his features as he noticed Ben's hands curling into tight fists, his stature changing to a defensive position. Seraphina knew disaster was imminent if the two weren't separated. Ben had taken on quite a bit of Page's unbridled hatred of Reaver, and was even less in control of his emotions saturated in fine wines and liquors.
The Queen quickly took Reaver's hand, anxious to be rid of his presence as soon as possible. She realized that with Ben being short of temper and inebriated, it could lead to a brawl rather quickly. Reaver smiled as if he anticipated the movement, and placed his lips to her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. He lingered for a moment to long before finally removing his lips, his pupils burning into hers.
"Dearest friends, I do believe that it's time that we began this little soiree." He stamped his cane on the hard flood, never releasing her hand from his. Seconds later, the band that had shadowed the stage previously began to play a sultry, piano sonata leading into a tango. Reaver pulled her hand forward, beckoning her. "Shall we, my dear?" He lightly tugged her toward the ballroom floor where the entirety of the crowd was beginning to amass.
Ben was reaching a violent peak at this point, his hands at his side in defensive stance, preparing to strike. "I would suggest taking your hand off her Majesty." Ben spat venomously, causing Reaver to suppress a small fit of laughter. Seraphina threw her hand out to her side, blocking Ben from perpetrating any planned attack, hoping to cease the scene that seemed inevitable with Reaver's insistent prodding.
"It's quite alright, Ben. I shall handle this." Her face turned to Reaver, who seemed to find her friend's drunken attack stance all too amusing, staring down at him with that seemed to be a hybrid mix of pity and enjoyment. "As you can see, my friend isn't feeling to well. I should think it rude to leave him in this state alone. I'm afraid I'll have to reject your proposal on his behalf." She gave a small, attempted pick at her lip behind her black satin gloves, looking away from him as she did such, hiding behind her lie. Reaver seemed to know this as well, as he only once again playfully cocked his head to the side, his smile deepening.
"Why, if it's companionship he so desperately longs for, I dare say he will have the second best company in all of Albion!" He once again clicked his cane on the marble, and a barrage of immodest young women, no doubt courtesans, came forth flirtatiously, waving their fans and twirling their hair about. The giggling group of girls surrounded Ben, hanging on him and twisting their bodies around him in ways that seemed quite inappropriate in public view. "The finest company shall be held by myself tonight, however." Reaver whispered in her ear as he grabbed her hand, pulling her forward toward the group of dancing nobles. She sent flustered looks back toward Ben who was completely submerged inside a circumference of promiscuous women. She relaxed, convincing herself she wasn't entirely disappointed with it. The Queen felt like she wasn't in any immediate danger surrounded by party guests, and Ben deserved all the finesses that could be afforded to him at Reavers expense, and she was willing to bet that those women did not come cheaply. Reaver had likely hired them specifically to keep any of her male companions otherwise occupied when he made his move, no doubt expecting resistance.
Various party guests moved out of Reaver's path as if propelled by a magnet as he led the Queen to the middle of the dance floor. The obsidian adorned couple cast a black shadow over the silver-frosted crowd. A smug look came across his face as he placed his hand upon her waist, taking her other hand into his matching one, curling his lean, cold, gloved fingertips around her own. She allowed him to take her, looking to the floor and refusing to meet his triumphant stare as she felt them blaze into her skin. He led her to the beat as gracefully as a professional dancer, his posture straight and his stature strategically placed to seem superior to all others in the room.
"My dear, who taught you to dance? A drunken sailor?" He scolded her mockingly. She was still turned from him, her eyes meeting everything in the room but his auric glare. "You're much to restricting with your movements. The art of dance is all about fluid movement." He purred as he pulled her closer harshly, partially catching her off guard. She could feel the edges of her dress scraping lightly against his trousers as his fingers trailed across her exposed back. Blood filled her cheeks and she could feel herself blushing from the human contact. He only chuckled at her anatomical response.
Seraphina did her best to follow his lead, only wishing for the song to be over, although she was all to aware that the night had just begun. His catlike movements far out graced her own despite her years of training for such an occasion. Yet she found her mind otherwise occupied, mainly trying to block out Reaver's obvious closeness to her own form, attempting to ignore his body heat radiating toward her own. She detoured her obvious nervousness with conversation.
"I see that you and I have both been dressed in darker colors. An obvious mistake, I assume?" He pressed his hips slightly closer to hers as she swayed with him.
"I feel the need to take credit for such a bold move, my dearest. Without your deepened raven colors, you would have no doubt blended in with all the other attendees at first glance. The only way I would have known you is by your no doubt exquisite form, and I assure you, I would have taken absolutely no pleasure at all in examining every female anatomy in this room to find your own. None of them would have even held even the smallest flame, and believe me, my little Jezebel, I have compared them." He threw his cackling head into the air, delighting in her sudden violent recoil from the thought of him honestly thinking of her in any carnal matter.
Taking a deep breath, she regained composure and took to changing the subject. She realized exactly what game he was playing at, as he had done it many times before. It was the bet of who would lose their head first, but usually only one side knew they were playing. "I thought that the 'white' theme was indeed a tribute to my purity and morality as a monarch. It might give quite the offhand message dressing me in black, won't it?" She awaited his answer, doubting she wished to know it once he spoke it.
"Of course, my dear! Yet, it seems all things that were once white eventually become dirtied and tarnished to some degree. I myself find white to be quite an unattractive color. So clean and pure, never seeming to have partaken in the vices that make life quite so enjoyable." He said matter of factually. "I only enjoy tarnishing it. Watching that which was once pure and true corrupt with utter desire, even begging and pleading for it." He whispered in her ear, his breath lingering upon her skin and sending shivers down her spine. She gulped, realizing the revelation of his words though he little needed to speak it. Several silent moments passed between to of them as he held her closely, trespassing on her personal space. When he finally spoke, his words were no more comforting than they were before.
"Ma chérie, you shall have to come much closer should you wish to make this dance acceptable." His smile was malicious and playful all at once, and she could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was taking far too much joy in her sense of discomfort. Seraphina decided to play his little game, if only for the moment. The sooner she could escape his iron grasp, the sooner she could leave this party and return to her own ground. She stepped a few inches closer, focusing on his eyes as she did. He took too much pleasure in her discord, so she decided to take his sense of gratification away from him.
Much to her dismay, his smile only widened and his eyes glistened with amusement. "I said closer. Closer, my darling." He once again pulled her into his form and she could feel his every bit of anatomy against her body, his hands navigating foreign lands as they lightly trailed down her back, tracing all sorts of strange symbols and letters into her skin beneath the corset lacing. He couldn't have drawn her closer should he have tried. She could feel his hips move against her own to the beat of the building tango. She did her best to follow his lead, allowing his body to lead hers and sending her own mind millions of miles away, deeply wishing for more wine to subdue the disgusted feeling that was building in her middle as she did such. Reaver narrowed his eyes, almost as if reading her mind.
He twirled and moved her lightly while heading toward the outer circles of the crowd, strategically heading toward the wine table, though his eloquent steps wouldn't have been recognizable to anyone who did not have a mind of his own. As he reached the outer perimeter of the table, he gracefully and inconspicuously grabbed two goblets from the table and handed one to her with her newly free hand. He downed one himself in two easy swallows, throwing the cup aside for the servants to gather and glancing at her in a challenging manner. Seraphina stared at him inquisitively for a moment before deciding that it was a foolish move to attempt to decipher his motives. She swallowed the fine wine in several refined gulps, attempting to savor the sweet taste against her pallet.
Several moments passed as Reaver twirled her amongst the crowd and she did her best to follow along with his expert steps. The wine flooded her head, making her slightly woozy and all too vulnerable in his arms, believing herself capable of outfoxing him when given the chance. He simply grinned her as he held her close, moving his own body to the tempo. The song was slow, yet the 'vivace' of the song had yet to begin. He spun her in circles, once again making his way toward the liquor table, easily grabbing two more chalices filled with fine wine in his hands. He handed the Queen another one, watching with pleasure as she downed her own cup before swallowing his own in one simple swallow.
Her head was in a steady fuzz by the time the rhythm slowed, breaking momentarily before the song broke into climax. Reaver's warmth was impeccable underneath his leather glove as he gripped her right hand and stared at her through his mask, reeking of seduction. He narrowed his shining eyes onto hers, moving his face ever so slightly closer to her own. She could feel his wine laden breath upon her neck as she moved his face from him, shivering reluctantly in response. He slowly moved her hips along with his own to the beat, his hand making its way down to her mid back over the course of several seconds, pressing her even closer to his own middle. A strange, tingling feeling made its home in her stomach as his hand rested upon her extremity.
Her vision was quite blurred by the time he spoke again. She had taken to following his instruction flawlessly as he led her on the floor, twirling and bending to his will, meeting his eyes only when fate demanded, doing her best to ignore the feeling that lay brooding in her gut. Eventually, the song came to a dramatic ending and he dipped her low beneath his own form, his hand and knee holding her up her weight. He brought his face all too close to her own for comfort, his narrow lidded golden eyes gazing into hers. His lips were centimeters from her own, and she could feel his expelled breath landing upon her own skin. She gritted her own teeth halting any movement, only looking upon him with contempt.
"Are you quite done, Lord Reaver?" Her voice was shaky but assured. A feeling she couldn't entirely place had made home in her stomach. She felt a peculiar quivering feeling throughout her limbs as he bore into her, his eyes glazing over her as he brought her up to eye level.
"Might I say that the outfit I designed looks absolutely ravishing, your Majesty. I'm quite pleased with the way it turned out." He brought her upright, their conversation taking place underneath the politely clapping audience. He ignored her sentiment. His smile was charming and disarming as she could feel the beat of his heart as he held his chest against her own. She swallowed hard, feeling the wine swimming heavily in her head.
"Save your flattery, Reaver. It's nothing but empty promise to me, as it has no doubt been to many other women in the kingdom," She rolled her eyes heavily, rejecting the urge to scoff at his compliment.
"I won't deny that I have shared many of the bed company of Albion's more aesthetic women, your Highness. I shall say, however, that you are the loveliest of companions that I have yet to have the pleasure of sharing the throes of lust with, although that could be changed rather fast, should you wish it so." He purred into her ear, bringing his face close to her own once again, his hands claiming her more tightly than was comfortable.
She shook herself, her rebellious cerulean eyes meeting his furiously. "As I have stated before, Reaver, I am not one of your whores. I will not be so easily swayed by hollow sentiments of flattery. You are a flatterer and a liar. I am not foolish enough to fall for your lamentations of love. You yourself admit you have shared a bed with many of Albion's finer women. I refuse to be one of those countless bed notches. Women of royalty are expected to have higher standards." Her voice was laced with contempt just the way he liked it. His only response was a rueful smile. It was indeed so difficult to find young minxes who put up such a fight these days. If they could resist his money, they could never resist his looks or his charms, and yet she managed to shake them off as though he were a mere leper beggar. It delighted him. The chase was always the most enjoyable, seeing as they weren't much use after that.
"Then I suppose I shall have to try harder to sway you, your Majesty. Although I assure you my words are all but hollow." He closed his eyes lightly, giving her a poisonous smile. "But there is the matter of the guest I hold in my library who so endearingly requests your presence."
Seraphina flickered her eyes to his, curiosity taking hold. His smile took on wicked proportions.
"What are you talking about, Reaver?" Her voice was serious. He only laughed aloud, squeezing her hand harder, almost too hard for comfort.
"My dear, I do recall alerting you to a small surprise that I had planned for this evening. Unless of course you have forgotten." His malicious laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. Seraphina wasted no time, ignoring his insulting prodding.
"Take me to it. Take me to it now." Her voice was impatient and borderline desperate, the taste of wine heavy in the back of her throat.
"Oh alright, your Majesty, but only because I enjoy hearing you beg for me. Although there are entirely more pleasant things that I can imagine you begging for. I suppose all in good time." He smirked, his face positively amused at his own comment. She ignored his sentiment, stifling his joy. He held her hand tightly, leading off the ballroom floor and towards one of the darkened alcoves hidden by the darkness of the stone mini roof, easily finding a doorknob hidden in the shadows and clicking it open slowly.
He lead her though various hallways, each adorned with wooden hallways and many bookshelves stacked up against the towering walls. She remembered just how much this place resembled a labyrinth.
"How is it that you remember your way through this bloody place?" She glanced at the seemingly endless walls before her. "It's massive."
"Your Majesty, you seem to get used to massive things when they present themselves before you on a daily basis." His voice was heavy with implication. She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head. She should have known better than to ask him a fully serious question.
After several moments, he came to a large entryway embellished with heavy oak bookshelves. He placed his hand on the knob of a door, opening it slowly before he led her inside. The room was dimly lit, although she could tell it was quite massive by the clicking of the doorway against the walls that echoed endlessly against the wooded walls. She could hardly see a thing, and instinctively reached out for a hand, grabbing Reaver's shoulder. He laughed playfully as she clung to him, and she punched him in the top of the arm as hard as she could muster. This only caused him to snicker harder.
"I plan on killing you, you know." Seraphina stated matter of factly, almost as if she found the thought relaxing.
"Only if you find yourself capable, my love." He tossed back, obviously unswayed by her threat. He continued to lead her up several staircases and into what appeared to be a study of sorts. He reached his long arm out and elegantly flipped a switch, lighting the gigantic room ever so slightly, still leaving immense parts of the room mostly dark and ominous.
"I do hope you enjoyed that, because it will be the last time it ever happens." She let go of his arm, brushing her gown off instinctively.
"As you say, your Majesty." He waved her off, his voice dismissive and disbelieving. He subdued the urge to laugh heartily her words.
"Who did you bring me deep into these catacombs for, Reaver? You said someone wished to see me. I see no one here." Her words were fierce.
"Oh, don't you? I must apologize. Some of these lights have long since burnt out and I've neglected to have them fixed. Are you here, dear old friend of mine?" Several moments passed before a voice echoed through the room.
"Sister?" A distant voice called from the darkness. Seraphina felt a chill run down her frame as she moved toward the blackness from whence the voice came. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the light. A form eventually emerged in the darkness, one she recognized as her own dear brother, King Logan sitting before her.