This is certainly a longer chapter than usual eh? Haha! I just kept writing and couldn't find a good place to break it so I'm sorry if it's too long guys :/ So, here we go :) Thank you so much for the reviews! I love you folks and so does Reaver. If that doesn't make you feel good, what will? ;)

Read on!

By the by, I was listeninng to Love the Way You Lie Part Dos, and I swear I was reminded so much of Reaver and my plans for this story when I listened to the lyrics. Lessthanthree it.

Chapter 6

Eliza allowed her ladies to dress her the following night with less reluctance than usual. She despised being officiously fawned over but that day her mind was elsewhere and she was certain her corset would have ended up on her head had she been left to it herself. They surrounded her in a flurry of skirts and high-pitched giggles, pulling her dress over her limp arms while she stood despondent in thoughts of the events of the early morning.

She had not seen Reaver since then, though her guards had told her they had heard several gunshots from his room, adding that James appeared to have vanished too. Eliza's heart wrenched when she considered that these instances might be related in some way. James; young, beautiful James. The hero felt sickened that she might envy a murderer in some way, but she could not escape the fact that she did. And she felt a sickening twist in her stomach every time she thought of Reaver's reaction to her request that morning. It was horrifyingly human for the industrial devil.

The Queen was being dressed for an evening meal with her brother Logan. She found herself quite looking forward to it – their recent empathy towards each other made her happy to be in the company of one who understood her current mind-set, without pointless words.

"Ladies, that's enough thank you. I'm sure my brother won't mind if my hair is slightly askew." Eliza said with a small smile as she felt their nippy little fingers grab at her hair which hung in loose brown curls around her shoulders.

"'Course, your highness." said one of the girls, curtseying.

They scurried out of the room in their tight-knit group, leaving their Queen to her strange moods. Eliza walked over to her large vanity mirror and applied her lip tint, turning her lips a deep red. Her newly painted lips pouted slightly in a sigh as she again saw the increasingly dull complexion and aging face.

Her mother had stayed young beyond her years until the very end. Eliza just did not understand why she did not get her mother's genes.

Tearing her eyes from her reflection, the Queen straightened into a stance befitting her title and swept swiftly from the room, heading towards her private dining room where her brother waited. As she walked along the corridors, the various soldiers saluted her with her many titles like "Majesty" and "Highness" and Eliza returned their words with an easy smile and nod of acknowledgement. She rather enjoyed walking down the blue swathed corridors of the castle, seeing all the friendly faces who worked for her and getting an opportunity to thank them for their hard work in her residence. It was always appreciated. Not only did her soldiers keep her safe, her maids meant that she never again had to clean, which, Eliza confessed, she had never done anyway, growing up as a princess. The great Hero Queen of Albion was a domestic disaster.

Eliza entered the little room which led onto a balcony overlooking an expanse of green forest with a distant view of Millfields and Bower Lake. A beautiful part of the castle which Eliza had decided would be her personal room for dining. One should never waste a view such as that. Waiting at a small table on the balcony was Logan. His head was turned towards the view and he was unaware of his sister's presence. Only when Eliza arrived at the table and tapped his shoulder, did Logan jump to attention with a quiet yelp of surprise. His eyes looked up to his little sister in all her regal glory and his brows furrowed.

"You should know not to scare a man already on edge, sister."

"My apologies, brother." replied Eliza with a smile, "How do you fare this evening?"

"Rather well, considering. I was glad to find the balcony so well lit." he said, with a wave of his hand towards the many candles and lanterns which adorned every surface of the area.

"Yes, I think you'd find every room in the castle is well lit at night, if you left your room a bit more, Logan."

Logan's eyes snapped to Eliza's and held her in an intense stare. Eliza broke the stare with a tinge of guilt. She hadn't meant to bring that up.

"You know that I try Eliza, please don't feign ignorance to my situation. I know very well it is similar to your own. We just show it in different ways."

"I know, Logan. I understand." He cowed her in the way only an older brother could.

The brother and sister became quiet as a troop of servants descended upon them, serving their food from the many trolleys they had rolled in. It was only when the servers had left that they looked at one another again.

"Might I ask, sister, why I find Reaver to be a common ornament in the castle? Every time I peer from my window I see his distinctively tall presence molesting the local aristocracy." Logan allowed a small smile to grace his features, brightening them noticeably. Eliza giggled in return.

"Yes, I am afraid he sleeps in my guest rooms until he can find a house which is befitting of his rather impossible standards."

"I see," Logan paused, taking a small bite of his pheasant, "Are you sure he should still be living here as well as being head of Industry, Eliza? I only appointed him out of desperation. It is undeniable the man, no matter how vile, has a talent for making money. I have heard say from the servants that the rumours travel round the people of his staying so close to your own chambers. They are not looking kindly on this."

Eliza choked on her food and took a large gulp of wine to calm her coughing, "Rumours? Just what kind of rumours, Logan? I do this as a favour to Reaver. And I do not see why I should not keep him as my head of industry when he follows my rules anyway. The state of our industrial sector has improved dramatically since the defeat of the…you know. Look, I appreciate the advice of my brother and a King but I know what I'm getting into."

Logan passed over her unwillingness to say the Darkness around him and pressed on, "I cannot deny that you are more than able, Eliza but Reaver is completely driven by his own needs. Beneath that foppish charm, which I can see affects you, is an evil maniac always ready to strike."

"I can handle it. Maniac he may be, but evil he is not – amoral is what I'd call it." said Eliza with finality.

Logan shrugged, muttering something about how he had warned her and continued eating. Eliza smiled and shook her head slightly, watching her brother as he ate in the way he had since they were children – like someone was going to take his food from him. But her smile disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared when she noticed his flinching from the shadows cast from the flames of the candles.

"Logan," she began, moving forward to touch his arm. He paused and looked up at his sister's despairing face, "You don't think the Darkness will ever return do you?"

"Not in the same way it did. But it will stay with us, Eliza, it will haunt us and you know as well as I it will eventually consume us in death."

This was the first conversation they had had regarding the Darkness and Eliza did not feel cheered. Quite the opposite in fact. A small, infinitesimal optimistic shred in her had hoped that Logan would say his oppression was lifting, that he was returning to normal much quicker than he had originally anticipated. She was a fool to hope so, she realised. Eliza sat back in her chair, pushing her plate away from her, so that the formerly enticing scent of the food did not waft under her nose. She felt nauseated.

"I can tell that was not the answer you wanted to hear sister, but I did, after all, vow to treat you like an adult. I'm not going to hide the truth – you will never feel the same again. Unless you somehow beat the unbeatable."

"You mean death, I suppose?"

"Naturally. I view nothing else as unbeatable. But that…that is the pervasive darkness which we will eventually face. Forget Heaven or Hell, we distress at the thought of the infinite curtain of blackness."

"Most people fear death, Logan." I said contemplatively, sipping my wine.

"No," he retorted, "They fear the unknown."

There was never any doubt that she would die. Eliza knew that if Reaver did not help her then she would succumb to the darkness like everyone but he and Theresa. Why did he insist on being so unhelpful, so selfish? She deserved to live just as long as he, if not longer, for she did not intend to break her moral compass in doing so.

"I'm afraid I must leave you, Eliza." Logan announced, glancing uneasily at the flickering candles around them, "The light grows dim."

"Yes, I'm afraid the moths of darkness extinguish even the brightest of lights." She replied quietly.

They both rose and Logan bent to kiss her hand. He rose and looked into her eyes, it was a deep searching look but he smiled sadly.

"It is unfortunate that it has taken this to make me feel closer to my own sister."

And with that, Logan left the balcony and the room, leaving Eliza isolated on the balcony. It was not yet too dark for her but still she sparked her gauntlets to life and flicked droplets of glowing flame at the nearest few candles, providing her with blessed illumination.

Reaver stalked the corridors of the castle in a visibly foul mood. The servants had been keeping out of his way and he no longer had any targets upon which he could release his frustration. For the whole day Reaver had been thinking and he had come to a conclusion hours ago, but still he was not satisfied. He was going to give her what she wanted. He hated the idea of it but she would not rest until she got it. Besides, she may reward him for his help. At this he could not help the lecherous smirk which flitted across his features. He wanted, however, a fiery girl for his pleasure and he would never find it in the beautiful Queen if she did not extinguish her fears.

Reaver considered the idea of what would happen when she made her sacrifice. He rather liked the idea of turning from being the corrupted to the corruptor. So bored had he become of living his life of hedonistic indulgence, he rather wanted a companion with whom he could share his amoral secrets. A protégée of sorts. He would help her overcome her inevitable guilt in the only way he knew how. Abruptly, Reaver became rather positive on the matter-to have a blank canvas upon which he could paint his ideas sounded delightful. To mould a more feminine version of himself sounded….arousing.

Reaver passed the doors through which Eliza was standing and glanced in. He saw the flames and knew immediately it was her. Only she would stand in what she feared, testing her limits, with such a weak protector as fire. She relied far too much on its flickering unreliability. He would give her the indefatigable beacon of immortality.

Eliza stiffened as she heard the door open behind her. Her gauntlets flared to life and she turned slowly to see Reaver approaching, surprisingly with neither top hat, for obvious reasons, nor cane. He wore only his white trousers, brown waistcoat, golden buttons glimmering in the firelight, and his striped shirt. He looked oddly casual and Eliza blinked in bemusement upon seeing him so, for want of a better word, undressed.

"The expression of confusion, my dear, does not suit you- I rather prefer the knowledgeable sparkle you so often have in your eye, no matter how misinformed it is."

Eliza lowered her flaming fists, seeing his eyes held their usual playful gleam and lacked the murderous blackness they had held the night before.

"I must give you credit, Reaver, you insult in the most baroque way. If one were not I, they might find themselves flattered that such a great number of words were spared for them by you, never mind the true meaning behind them. "

Reaver smiled with self-satisfaction and strutted to the seat Logan had just vacated with a positively peacock-like air. He placed his precious derrière upon the cushions with the utmost care and sat back like it was the throne he obviously felt he deserved.

Oh, the vainglorious bastard. If he did not intend on being of any use to her, why did he insist upon foisting his presence upon her.

"Do take a seat, Your Highness, we have much to discuss and I dare say you want to hear what I have to say." Reaver gestured grandly to Eliza's own seat and perched his chin on the arch he had created with his fingers.

"Maid!" he called, glancing round with a smirk as one shuffled into the room, her intense fear looking only slightly alleviated by the presence of her benevolent Queen, "Do be a dear and fetch us some fresh wine."

The young girl stuttered a soft reply in the affirmative and scuttled from the room.

Eliza raised her eyebrow at Reaver, trying not to show her discomfort at being in his company. Her hands subconsciously smoothed down the creases in the silk of her dress and her legs crossed and uncrossed.

"Do tell me what you want, Reaver."

Reaver gave a pronounced tut, "I do hate it when you don't play along with my silence. It can be golden when you have beauty to gaze upon, Eliza. I think in each other's presence we can claim to have that luck. Besides, you know how I detest when you are blunt with me." Eliza noticed when his hand strayed to his pistol and she leaned forward, anticipating an attack but Reaver's eyes never left her own and he appeared to change his mind as to the direction of his hand. He moved it to the table and clenched the table cloth.

"I have decided, in my infinite generosity, to help you achieve your desires."

Eliza sat up straight, her hand shot across the table to grasp Reaver's and she squeezed so tightly a slightly wince appeared on his face.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Reaver extracted his hand from Eliza's grip and grimaced slightly, "Please, Eliza, I do not appreciate the emotion, it may make me change my mind."

Eliza reorganised her face into an image of stoniness and nodded. She learned fast, Reaver thought with pleasure.

"If you intend to become like me," Reaver continued, locking Eliza in an intense stare, "We must travel to the Shadow Court in Wraithmarsh, I'm sure you have heard tell of the area from your mother." He waited for Eliza's nod before continuing, "They will require a sacrifice in order for your Highness to secure your endless youth and beauty. Everything has a cost, my dear Eliza, and I ask you not to forget that. The things we hold most precious are the things which often require the greatest sacrifice and what is more dear than life itself?"

"What must I sacrifice?" Eliza asked in awe.

'Whatever you hold dear' thought Reaver bitterly.

"I cannot say for certain, it is different for all." The lie spilled from Reaver's lips as easily; and weighed upon his conscience no more than the rest did.

Reaver had intended to tell Eliza all, but found himself unable to do so. His words caught in his throat as he went to inform her of Oakvale. She need not know, this was her mistake to make and he wished to take his gains from it. He did not want anyone to know of his story. Perhaps when they had known one another for a couple of hundred years, he would reveal his darkest secrets to her, but Reaver did not desire to be privy to her reaction at the moment, whether it be disgust and hatred, or worse, pity. Disgust and hatred he supposed he could handle, but never pity. He never felt it and never wanted it to be felt for him.

"Then I will do it. I am willing to make a sacrifice. Whatever it is cannot affect me more than this fear. What is one more crack on my damaged soul when I have the chance to seal so many more? You will come with me?"

Reaver nodded, "Of course, I am the only one who can gain entrance for you."

This was not true of course, Reaver knew he could have given her the Dark Seal and sent her on her way, but he felt a morbid curiosity in seeing someone else transform the way he had.

He needed to see it.

The maid entered the room carrying a tray of wine, walking slowly towards the table, her eyes avoiding the piercing glare of Reaver. As she settled the wine on the table, the young girl looked up and stared above the heads of the imposing pair. She wondered silently why the kind Queen seemed to enjoy the company of one such as Reaver and wondered if her Highness was aware of the smiles which so often seemed to pass unconsciously between them.

"Anythin' else, Your Highness?"

"Oh, nothing more from you, dear. Slow service equates to incompetence in my book – I have essentially finished my story."

For the first time that evening the girl's eyes travelled to Reaver and with a terrifying clarity that one often experiences before death, she saw, glinting in the firelight, the bullet which flew towards her face in slow-motion. She witnessed death hurtling towards her, its black curtain trailing behind it, ready to pull it over her eyes and mind. She heard, in a muffled echo, the scream of the Queen and smelled her own urine as terror took precedence over control. She did not, however, feel herself thud to the floor as she was dead long before it happened.

"Reaver! You bastard, you evil bastard! She didn't do anything wrong!" screamed the Queen, flinging herself from her seat cradle the girl's bleeding head in her arms. "I defended you when Logan called you evil, but perhaps you are." She fixed him with a glare of rage and loathing and he sighed internally in satisfaction – still preferable to pity.

"Defended me?" he chuckled in delight, "My dear naïve Queen, I am a terribly bad man. I live bad, I was reborn bad and in all probability, should the time ever come, I shall die bad. And I do not deny it."

Eliza stared dumbfounded at the man before her. Why, oh why did she place her dependence on him? She looked at his face, it was handsome, perfectly formed in many ways but when she looked down at the empty eyes of the girl in her arms all attraction was eradicated. Eliza had seen so much death, being a Hero it was inevitable, and in seeing so much she had developed rather thick skin towards it when it happened to others but she so hated to see the deaths of innocents.

"I am afraid if you plan to live as long as I, love, you will have to develop a better coping mechanism than screaming when faced with death."

"But she didn't deserve it, Reaver."

"That is debatable."

Eliza shuddered at the coldness in his tone.

"How am I supposed to trust a man who murders without trouble on his conscience?"

Reaver stood and pulled Eliza to her feet, bringing their faces close together over the body of the servant girl.

"I never said anything about trust, Eliza. We're never more vulnerable than when we trust and I rather think that is your Achilles' Heel."

Eliza shook his hands from her arms and gave him a scathing look before marching from the room, not looking back for fear of what she would do if she were to glance once more at the poor girl whose name she had not even had time to learn.

A/N: Alright, so I want to say a couple of things here. The amount of times Reaver has been compared to Dorian Gray, gosh I couldn't even count, but I do agree! However, I can't help but feel that after several hundred years the role of Dorian would become a tad tedious for him, no? I guess I'm using this as showing his progression to a Lord Henry character. He obviously doesn't have the same hypocrisy as Lord Henry, due to the fact that he has actually practiced what he intends to preach but the control and power over someone would surely be appealing to one such as while I realise the Queen is pretty often the consicentious Basil, mine kind of isn't. She's troubled and her life is a morally gray area. She needs Reaver so much she doesn't react with the intensity she usually would when Reaver kills someone. She doesn't want him to change his mind - she has to walk away before she does something she will regret. Plus the reasons behind his actions intrigue her. He's like a puzzle to her as much as she is to herself. She can't understand herself so she might as well distract herself with someone else.

I also can't help but feel, while he no doubt adores the uniqueness of his long life, it would get a little boring and as much as he can hide away his secrets, he would eventually want someone to know how clever and incredible he really is. Like the serial killer who can't handle the anonymity, the James Bond villain who wants to lay out every detail of his plan just so that everyone knows how intelligent he is. But he wouldn't reveal this to just anyone, it should be someone just like him and that someone could be Eliza. He's taking advantage of her desperation but he thinks he can gain from it in some way.

Sorry for the ramble, albeit an explanatory one ;)

Review please!

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