'Closer, My Darling'
Authors Note: I absolutely cannot thank you enough for the feedback. I assure you I find all manner of reviews helpful and encouraging, and in no way do I ever find them boring or useless. I always absolutely welcome them. Anyways, this is a romance story, so it will eventually ignite a spark between the two, and I have absolutely no intention of letting it simmer out without any sort of climax. Those sorts of stories always disappointed me, personally. So, that being said, if you are one of the people who enjoys Reaver so in character that it becomes impossible for him to feel for someone, perhaps this is not the story for you. I am also doing my best to build it up rather slowly, as I myself like stories that build before jumping straight into amour, and with Reaver's particular character, I imagine he's the type who likes to bat at his prey like a cat plays a mouse. I'll do my best to oblige the request for action and allowing Reaver to boast his skills as 'Hero of Skill' (I always wondered if he glowed like Garth, it's been a while since I played Fable 2 so I don't entirely recall the rules about the fabulous glow) although I'm not entirely fantastic at writing combat scenes.
The mini-scenes are written more or less from the perspective they're focused around, hence why this one is so Reaver friendly. You'll notice when they shift perspective.
(P.S. I also rather enjoy Kiltsaresexy's stories as well. I was highly disturbed at the lack of Reaver/Princess stories, so hers were a pleasure to read.)
'Somewhere in time
I will find you and haunt you again
Like the wind sweeps the earth
Somewhere in time
When no virtues are left to defend
You fall in deep'
Reaver tapped his fingers pleasantly on the hilt of his cane, making no effort to conceal his honeyed stare on the Queen who sat impatiently over the edge of the matching divan. He was all too amused at her sense of edginess which was quite noticeable as she lightly stamped the heel of her boot on the polished wood floor while her head sat lazily in the palm of her hand. The tenuous silence had ensued for several minutes after their last altercation in which she, once again, nearly found a reason to sever his neck and was refusing to speak to him any longer.
He moved his gloved fingertips up toward his chin, lightly stroking it while contemplating her annoyed sneer which seemed misdirected at some poor inanimate object in the room. He admired her fire, and it was entirely safe to say that he had never quite met a woman like her before, and by a woman like her, he of course meant one that could so easily deflect his advances. Not to say that he wasn't at least slightly impressed with her battle prowess which was unmatched by any of her foes.
The way she wielded a weapon was truly artistic, slashing and maiming her opponents as gracefully as an artist wielded a paintbrush, sending rich strokes of blood red paint across her environmental canvas, the poetry unmistakable as life and death danced around each other in their eternal tango. Her skill with a rifle was also to be envied, although not by him of course. She hardly missed a shot, and the power behind her weapon was reminiscent of his own natural ability.
His personal favorite however was the way she manipulated the elements by channeling her hereditary inner potency and unleashing the wrath of a Hero upon her unsuspecting victims through her spell casting ability. They way they were strewn carelessly into the air and electrocuted mercilessly was quite a sight to behold and it more or less excited him in more ways than one. It had turned the night of the Wheel of Misfortune into quite the amusing night indeed. It had taken only mere minutes of witnessing the battle for him to realize he was in the presence of a fellow Hero, and not just any hero, but the daughter of his late 'colleague', Queen Sparrow.
He had chastised himself for not realizing it earlier. When rumors had spread across the Industrial District of rebellion, he had simply figured the ever nosy Page had finally gathered the bravura to lead her men against the throne, in which he figured that she would inevitably fail. After several of her men had 'managed' to infiltrate his manor during one of his little get togethers, he knew it was only a matter of time before the little rat d'égout showed her speckled face in his home. It was no large matter to him to end her, he figured that he might as well make an entertaining little spectacle of it. He had never dreamed that she would bring the magnificent offspring of his late playmate. Lucky for both Reaver and Page it would seem, as Page would have no doubt perished without the expertise of the Hero.
The resemblance became stronger and more magnetic the more often he found himself in her presence. She had the same fiery, strong personality, shared the fierce battle antics, the identical pleasant yet regal bearing, and the very same alluring and remarkably enchanting sapphire eyes. Not to mention, the same aggravating passive ignorance to his advances. Sparrow was indeed ambitious, ambitious enough to become Queen of Albion, and he had seen her as a playful advocate once upon a time. Yet time had a mischievous way of surpassing everyone but himself, and while he had been off on his own adventures, Sparrow had taken a husband, bore children, and brought a kingdom to prosperity, and inevitably withered and took her last breath.
Her late husband had taken control of the kingdom after her passing, also looking after the two children she had left behind. Logan had been but a small and surly child, and Seraphina nothing but a mere babe. Reaver had been able to worm his way into court with his extraordinary amounts of influence and ill acquired hoards of gold just years before her father's passing and managed to secure a permanent position as a man of affluence before Logan's coronation and had made frequent visitations to the castle ever since.
He hadn't thought much of the children in terms of any particular interest. He did have a few moments at the castle with them, greeting them casually and occasionally conversing with them like a 'good noble' should, but he mainly kept his distance until chances for advancement had arisen and he found it a most worthy cause to cozy up to Logan. Seraphina had been a social and persistent little mite however. She often ran wildly around the castle, carousing with everyone in her path until her flustered nannies were finally able to locate her. There had been more than one occasion when she had come across him in her wake of childish destruction and forced him into conversation. She had been an intriguing child, brighter than most and certainly more charming. He had still brushed her off, as his dislike for children was notorious. Yet, she continued her wanderings until she reached the age where it was appropriate for a lady of royalty to be busied during the days.
His efforts had indeed paid off and he landed a plush job running Albion's industrial quarter, and it was a job he found rather suited towards his tastes and rather enjoyable. The princess had been around no doubt on his many consultant journeys to the castle, but she saw little of court as Logan typically kept her locked away, busying her with lessons and tutors of all sorts. It wasn't until she made her glorious debut at his manor that night that he had truly had the chance to acknowledge her allurement, not to mention the many times of her blatantly ignoring his existence and persistence that he truly reveled in her utter desirability. He did so love a good chase.
Yet here she sat in his manor, in his presence, once again pretending she didn't enjoy his attention. It was only a matter of time before she caved. After all, no woman could ever resist the charms of the industrial magnate for long, although he admired her commitment to the bit and her feisty recoils. It was only a pleasurable bonus to be able to prove the late King Logan wrong, and no doubt rub it in his face.
So here he sat, prodding her with his unrelenting gaze and awaiting her next move on the metaphorical chess board, and indeed it came.
"Reaver, didn't anyone ever warn you that it's rude to glare? Surely there's something else in this room that you can stare down." She continued, looking purposefully away from him.
"I'm so terribly sorry, my dear. It's my natural instinct to gravitate toward the most exquisite element in the room." He left his heavy lidded focus on her.
"Oh, enough with it! The games are growing incessantly old. Your empty flattery and never ending desire to cross my personal boundary is growing tired." She let out a heavy sign, and had a look upon her features that resembled Logan all too much.
"I've assured you once, your Majesty, the flattery is all but empty." He once again pulled the pipe from his coat pocket, lighting it with ease. "Although your cold demeanor towards me is quite challenging. I've never seen quite a restrictive dancer! Until, of course, the wine graced your delicate lips. I've never seen you quite so radiant as you were in that moment." He took a deep inhale, blowing it playfully in her direction. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
"I do hope you enjoyed it, as it was the first and most definitely the last time it shall ever happen." She turned away embarrassed at the memory.
"This might come as quite a shock, but was in fact, not the first time that you and I have shared a ballroom together." He looked off thoughtfully, knowing full well that this would pique her interest. She looked at him with a disgruntled sort of confusion.
"I believe I would remember something of that sort." She shot him a stern, annoyed look.
"That's not entirely true. I believe that decent memory doesn't set in until around six years of age. If my own memory serves true, you were only around around five years old." Smugness took over his features. There is no way she could resist curiosity after a statement like that.
"I highly doubt that you were even around when I was a child, let alone a welcomed guest among the court." She chortled.
"Not entirely true, my sweet. I was actually an acquaintance of sorts of your late mother. Her and I were quite close at one point in time." He exaggerated, sending a smirk towards her as he spoke. Before she had the chance, he began speaking once again. "I was making my way across the castle to attend court, the rather bane of my existence at the time, so I admit, I may have taken a detour. You were no more than a small child at the time, and a rather defiant one as well, a trait I see has not entirely changed with time." He gave her a small simper before continuing.
"You were rebelling against a rather discomposed dancing instructor having being scolded for not completed a move with the designated amount of grace. You ran into me, quite literally." He took another deep puff off his pipe, sending her a sideways glance, waiting for her to speak. Yet, she didn't, she only stared at him with eyes glazed with curiosity, awaiting the rest of his recountal. This left him feeling rather pleased with himself, as she had always been a curious one and he knew she simply couldn't resist.
"You were on the floor for no more than mere seconds before popping back up like the lively little tyke you were. You stared at me for moments before demanding that it was my duty as a noble to teach you this little plie with which you were having so much trouble. I myself was in no great hurry to hear the laments of peasant farmers, so I adjourned with you to the ballroom, much to the even greater distress of your tutor." He let out a small titter remembering the small, frenzied man's fearful expression as he entered the ballroom with the princess in training.
"I did, in fact, dance with you, my Queen. If I recall correctly, you found great amusement in stepping upon my shoes much to my discontent. I had to bend down to even grasp your tiny, fretting little fingers. I see that also has not changed with time. Had I been your father, I would have fired that instructor. He did a remarkably poor job, and it appears to have tailed with you through the years." He let out a sinister cackle, allowing his head to fall back lazily. Seraphina, however, remained silent, looking at him with a mixture of distrust and disbelief, but just the slightest hint of wonder.
"I don't believe you." Her statement had been made to sound stern, but even she could hear the lack of truth in her voice. Reaver shot her a look that only flustered her further. She furrowed her brow and looked down at her feet, taking in his words and feeling the need to defend her own statement. "Even if what you say is true, that makes this entire situation even more... bothersome." She stumbled over the last word, finding it difficult to quite convey the thought in her mind.
"And what reason would I have to lie, my dear?" Reaver leaned forward and narrowed his auric eyes on her own.
"How is that even possible?" She turned away from him, running over all he'd said in her mind once more, bringing her hand nervously to her mouth.
"Don't hurt yourself, little one. We have business to discuss." He waved his hand, as if minimizing the conversation. She regained her composure, turning herself toward him and doing her best to put the conversation out of her mind, but compiling it for further discussion once more important matters were taken care of.
"What is this deal you offer, and how does it correlate to the situation at hand?" Her voice was stoic once more. He sat quietly for a moment, his cheshire smile leaking across his cheeks.
"You see, as honored as I am to host your brother here, I cannot help but feel as if I am intruding on a very loving sibling relationship, and as I have previously stated, I would never come between siblings. I own a small amount of land just outside of Silverpine that I have yet to develop, and I might be convinced to donate it to dear Logan." Reaver leaned back, crossing one knee over the other.
"You know as well as I do that there is a reason he is here. It isn't safe for him elsewhere, or have you forgotten this already?" She placed her fingertip on her temple.
"Ah, yes, your Majesty, but that is the beauty of the location! As you know, Silverpine is plagued with an infestation of sorts. Balverines, to be specific. You are also aware that I have struck a little deal with their kind, although I won't bore you with the details." He skirted around yet another shady conversation. "Point is, your brother will be safe. Marauder nor assassin alike will be able to come within miles of him without being viciously mauled by our lycanthropic allies." He threw his hands in the air triumphantly. "He will be guarded by the most bourgeois of defenders without a care in the world!"
Seraphina bit her lip. "I don't imagine that this will come cheaply, especially not from the likes of you."
"Cheaply for me, absolutely not. It shall however come monetarily free for you." He replied, feeling quite pleased with himself. She only eyed him suspiciously.
"I don't trust this for a damned second, Reaver. You do nothing unless you gain personally from it. I've seen you put children to labor, orphans kicked from their beds for courtesans, and innocent men fall to your feet lifeless for sending you a sideways glance, yet you expect me to believe that you would do all of this out of the kindness of your heart?" She let out a cruel wave of laughter. "Do you think me a fool?"
"Well, not entirely free, I suppose. Your presence shall be required during all the planning and mental aspects of this little project." Reaver gave her an innocent smile.
"Which, I imagine, will be taking place here." She knew exactly where this was going.
"Well, it's only fitting, seeing as I am the one funding our little venture." He replied pointedly.
"Which, in turn, will land me here quite often." She placed her hands to her temples and letting out another monstrous sigh. The excuses she would have to make to visit so frequently would go down in history.
"Unless, of course, you'd rather blueprint your brother's secret safe house in a more public place?" He arched his brow at her. Check mate.
"Fine." She spat. "I still don't trust this. This is a costly exchange, and you'd have me believe that you're doing it for the mere price of my company?"
"Well.. I suppose there is one thing that has weighed rather heavily on my mind lately." His voice was sickly pleasant and it made her stomach churn.
"Oh here we go, wait for it." Her tone was heavy with sarcasm. He ignored it.
"I've noticed that since the noble death of your close friend Sir Walter, you have yet to take another 'official' royal adviser." A hint of a sly smile made its way across his face.
"And there it is." She half rolled her eyes, rubbing the soft spot between her cheek and her nose as it snuffing out the stress. "I don't even take your proposals into consideration at court. What makes you think that I'd even remotely respect you and your 'opinions' if you stood by my throne?"
"It would be purely for appearances, of course. I have come to terms with the fact that you are far too virtuous and whimsical to ever hear out my immoral yet nicely profitable schemes." He tsked her. "Yet with me in a place of royal adviser, this would appear much less scandalous, seeing as you're going to be spending much more time here in my humble abode. As I have stated previously, it benefits us both."
"And you believe that promoting you in the first place would not appear somewhat off? Everyone in that court knows that I despise you, yet you believe it would appear perfectly normal for you to stand before me one day, and stand beside me the next? Surely even you understand the sort of talk that might spark." Her words were strong, yet in her mind she knew it was a futile effort. Reaver would hear nothing less than acceptance. If she rejected the offer, she had no doubt that he would help her brother find his way to the streets before nightfall. She gritted her teeth angrily at the thought of being manipulated.
"Oh my Queen, if there is one thing you need learn, it's that you must ignore the small talk of the plebeians. They will whisper at absolutely any sort of oddity. I cannot even begin to contemplate the numerous rumors that circulate the court about myself! Although, I'm also quite certain that most of them are true." He let out a sinister chuckle. "It's merely a matter of experience, my dear. I have held my place in this city longer than most have been alive long enough to see it." She gave him a curious look at his cryptic words. "Should anyone question you, simply say it is a matter of financial opportunity. After all, with the treasury sitting in that sorry state, this kingdom won't continue to function as well as it does for long." The hard truth rang true in his words.
She sat for several moments, contemplating his words before speaking. "I... understand what you say, but I cannot deny that I am extraordinarily hesitant to place you in any sort of position of power. You were appointed a business manager, and look what you have managed to turn it into." She referred back to her misadventures in the Industrial District. He only let out a cackle.
"I did as was required of me at the time. I assure you that royal adviser is nothing more than a title. Did Sir Walter have any real power? Other than your overwhelming respect for the old chap, of course." He gave her a waxen remorseful smile that reeked of falsity. "An adviser has no real potential unless the person he is advising chooses to heed them. So in realistic terms, I suppose all that I am asking is the chance to stand a few feet closer to you in court. A small price to pay, I assure you."
The pair sat in silence for several moments after he concluded his speech,. The Queen nibbled at her lip in frustration, knowing there was only one answer to his request, but still lamenting the loss of her ability to tell him to shove off. He apathetically took several small puffs of his pipe, blowing rings around the room nonchalantly. The scent of expensive tobacco clouded her thoughts.
She closed her eyes and took a deep inhale before she spoke, regretting the words as they left her lips. "You may be royal adviser for the time being. I trust your discretion on the matter at hand, and it would indeed appear unseemly if my frequent visits here were left without reason, although more traditionally the royal advisory takes place within castle walls."
"Oh, absolutely splendid! I'm so very pleased we could come to a reasonable compromise." She rolled her eyes at his liberal use of the word 'compromise'.
"Do not abuse the privilege, Reaver. Remember that it is not beyond my power to have you executed for any manner of treason." The Queen felt the urge to throw in a threat of her own.
"Oh your Majesty, I do so love your vulgar displays of power." He cocked his head to the side and sent her a sultry smile. "Perhaps I shall see many more of them now that we're going to be spending an awful lot of time together."
"I have no doubt that you shall hear many more death threats now that it's the case." She whispered as she closed her eyes and placed her forehead in her open palms. Reaver let out a pleased snicker at her malicious retort.
"I'd imagine your troublesome brother has just about had his fill of solitude. Perhaps it would be best if I sent someone to fetch him. I'd guess that he is most anxious to speak with you." He pushed himself gracefully off the chair.
"That would be best." Seraphina spoke through her hands which still shielded her face in a subconscious sort of shame. She was certain that he was looking all too pleased with himself as he tapped his trademarked cane against the wooded floors twice. Yet, their conversation from earlier still nagged heavily on her mind. She didn't recall Reaver ever swaggering down the halls of her home in the early years of her life, but she also hadn't been allowed to roam much after reaching adolescence and was almost never allowed into court. It was entirely possible, but not all too probable considering the circumstances.
Reaver didn't look any older than thirty five, and she rejected the thought that he was beyond fourty years of age. How was it possible that he was not only carousing with the court when she was a child, not to mention an acquaintance of her mother who had passed years and years before? The thoughts ran tracks around her mind, leaving her feeling like she was attempting to finish a puzzle without having all the pieces. She made a mental note to ask Logan, who was older than she and might have a more accurate recollection. Perhaps he would have some insight.