Your Wishes He Grants... - Fable Fan Fiction
Synopsis - Sparrow finds Reaver in Bloodstone...and he has tricks other than being the Hero of Skill.
Word Count: 1050 words
Warnings: none
Inspired by Ashley Serena's version of Master Mirror, and also available here on my Ao3 if anyone wants to go and give me some love over there.
Sparrow had been warned about Reaver long before she had ever set foot in Bloodstone.
Of course she had: everyone had a tale to tell about him. The Pirate King, the Thief, the one who cheated death...she’d heard him referred to in countless different ways, in a dizzying amount of legends, half-truths, and old sailor’s exaggerated yarns...but there had been one common thread amongst them all.
He was dangerous.
She’d never been warned he was so charming - or if she had, she’d dismissed the warning as so unimportant she hadn’t even remembered it. Now she didn't know why she'd been so stupid to not know Reaver was as...prepossessing as he was.
His smile fair as spring, as towards him he draws you…
Reaver was devastatingly charming.
It wasn’t just his good looks, although Sparrow couldn’t deny he was in no short supply of those, it was...something else. Something in his smile that, even though it didn’t reach his eyes, pulled Sparrow deeper into the reception room of his Bloodstone home. It was like a siren’s call; even though something in the back of her mind was crying out that the man in front of her was far more dangerous than any cragged ocean rocks, his smile still brought her closer.
The idea that he presented a threat to her seemed hazy: unimportant compared to the warmth from his smile.
Especially as he managed to keep it firmly in place while starting his speech of how he’d heard about her presence...
His tongue sharp and silvery, as he implores you…
He said he didn’t get many visitors to his coastal paradise - especially not ones as renowned as she was. His smile didn’t slip as he praised her strength, her abilities, her successes in defeating some of the worst Albion had to offer.
Suddenly Sparrow couldn’t remember why she’d been so wary of Reaver; he was so pleasant. Surely all those tales of him being so dangerous were exaggerations...
Your wishes he grants, as he swears to adore you…
Reaver knew Sparrow had come here for his help. He offered it freely…
...all she had to do was one little favour for him, and how hard could that be? As he pointed out, she’d already survived Wraithmarsh, and that was all he needed her to do. Take a simple objet d'art to one of the few structures that remained standing in Wraithmarsh - a structure that had managed to keep out Hollow Men, Trolls, and Banshees for hundreds of years.
How hard could it be?
Gold, silver, jewels, he lays riches before you...
Sparrow’s hand hovered over the object. Reaver had called it an objet d'art , but...but it didn’t quite sit right in Sparrow’s head.
She tilted her head to the side, hand still held a few inches over the round object as she looked at it, trying to work out why she couldn’t make herself actually pick it up.The more she stared at it, the more...the more she felt something was wrong.
But then Reaver was right behind her, not quite touching her, but close enough she could feel the heat radiating off of him against her back, fighting away the cold chill that seemed to emanate from the objet d'art on the desk as he murmured promises of help into her ear - if only she did that one little favour for him first.
It was all too easy to give in. Her concerns seemed so silly - she could barely even remember the feeling of unease she’d had just seconds before.
Dues need to be repaid, and he will come for you…
Clarity hit the moment her skin came into contact with the object on the desk.
Sparrow’s own Will abilities sent tiny bolts of lighting over her body like a wave, and far from having no effect on her as it normally would, Sparrow felt like she’d just jumped into the Bower River in the depth of mid-winter.
All the air felt like it had been forced out of her lungs...but her mind was cold and clear when she turned to look at Reaver.
Reaver, who’d jumped back with the shockwaves had passed over her skin.
Reaver, who wasn’t smiling any more.
All to reclaim, no smile to console you…
His charming mask discarded, Sparrow saw Reaver for exactly what he was.
A threat.
He'll snare you in bonds, eyes glowing afire…
Reaver had realised he’d overplayed his hand...and it seemed his compliments hadn’t exactly been empty when he’d said he’d heard about her.
Sparrow knew what waryness looked like: and right now, it looked a lot like Reaver, standing a few feet away from her, hands carefully kept away from spots Sparrow was sure he was concealing multiple hidden weapons. He was desperately trying to appear casual, but Sparrow could see through it.
And as far as she was concerned, he had every reason to appear nervous.
Whatever trick he’d just tricked, whatever skill or spell he’d attempted to use to get inside her head, Sparrow had shaken it off now, and she wasn’t going to get pulled under again. If nothing else, she did her best to learn from her mistakes.
Hopefully, Reaver would do the same.
And to make sure he got the chance, Sparrow would do his little favour for him - just to prove that she could, and just to make sure that Reaver understood that he couldn’t get rid of her that easily. With that thought in mind, she made sure to keep eye contact with him as she swept the Dark Seal - because without that haze in her mind, she could tell exactly what it was, and could hazard a guess at where she’d find the door it unlocked - off of the desk, and then deliberately turned her back on him.
Sparrow was on to Reaver now. That didn’t make him any less dangerous...but it made her more dangerous than he had been prepared to deal with.
To gore and torment you, 'til the stars expire…
“Well, this is certain to prove interesting.” Reaver smirked at her leaving back.
Despite the lack of warmth curling around her mind, Sparrow still found herself looking over her shoulder to agree with Reaver - albeit grimly: “I’m sure.”