Chapter Text
Since taking the throne of Albion, the new Queen Allrianne had done her best to do right by the people. Keeping her promises, she had given them freedoms and protections they had not known since her father’s days. She intended to restore her family’s good name as well as protect the kingdom from the coming darkness, a task that occupied almost all of her waking hours.
One distraction continued to irritate the back of her mind, however – that night she and Page crashed the “masquerade” at Reaver’s mansion. She knew that his Wheel of Misfortune was no longer in use, but if he was capable of killing innocents for his amusement once, how to be sure he was not doing so again, under her very nose? Our Hero decided that Reaver’s next party warranted a surprise inspection. And since she couldn’t trust that Reaver wouldn’t buy off anyone that she sent, a personal visit seemed to be in order. The fact that the man gave her the chills was not cause to avoid her duties. She would rest easier knowing that even if she could not remove Reaver from Albion, she could at least keep his depravities in check. Though he had assured her on multiple occasions that everything was “above board” and no one was hurt or made to do anything against their will at his continued masquerades (and he was no longer friends with any balverines), she could not relax until she had seen for herself.
It was an easy task to overhear the gossip amongst her court’s insipid nobility about Reaver’s next soiree. The giggles and protests of “of course I’m not going, but could you imagine…” were all the Queen needed to hear to arouse her suspicions. This time, she would not be arriving in disguise. Stronger and more powerful than she had been when last she entered that evil man’s home, Allrianne felt she had nothing to fear in her own kingdom. She even fended off Walter and Ben’s suggestions that someone come with her, though privately she was not entirely sure why she was insisting on going alone.
Her carriage arrived at Reaver’s new manor a few hours after sundown. She hoped to catch any illicit activities in full swing. She wore her full royal regalia, crown seated proudly atop her pile of curls. Her blade was also strapped across her back, and her pistol at her side – this was no tame court function after all. She may need to be intimidating tonight. Taking a deep breath to steel nerves she didn’t realize she had been feeling, Allrianne climbed the steps to the great front door.
It opened before she could raise her arm to knock. ”Your Majesty! Please come in,” a flustered servant attempting to maintain his composure bowed.
“Don’t bother announcing me,” Allrianne said curtly as she brushed past him into the house. At least this butler seemed more respectful than that dreadful Barry Hatch. “Which way?”
The servant attempted to usher her into the main hall, but he could barely keep up with the agitated Hero. She wasn’t sure why her emotions were running so strongly, though she had been trying not to think of the danger found in Reaver’s unnatural skill with his pistol. It would not come to that this evening, he wouldn’t dare… Allrianne told herself she was just eager to put the smarmy leader of industry in his place.
She passed a few intoxicated guests in the hallway who gasped as they recognized her imperious form striding past. She burst into the main hall onto a scene that would have made a less worldly princess blush and hide her eyes. The guests were in various stages of undress, some wearing not a stitch but for their elaborate masks. The dining table was haphazardly covered with dishes and half-empty bottles, and the walls were lined with couches, pillows, and silk-covered pallets as if most of the furniture in the house had been brought in here. The guests were draped on them in twos and threes wherever she looked.
“Your majesty, what a delicious surprise!” the saccharine voice of Reaver called from the back of the room. Allrianne’s eyes fell on him, and she had to steel herself not to look away in embarrassment. The robber baron sat up from his position between two masked Ladies in their undergarments, his hair fashionably mussed and his shirt hanging open to reveal a pale, well-defined chest. Devilishly handsome in the low light, Reaver winked at the sight of a blush creeping up the Queen’s neck. “We have something for every taste here, I’m sure you’ll find.”
“You know very well I am not here to participate,” Allrianne snapped. “I am merely inspecting the premises, making sure no one here is being hurt, or kept against their will…”
“Your Majesty, we all know that I am a champion of pleasure and love! Frankly I am insulted by your supposition that I would detain or hurt anyone… against their will…” he ran his nails down the back of the woman to his left, hard, as he spoke the last, and her eyes rolled up in ecstasy. Allrianne swallowed hard. “But feel free to do any exploring you desire tonight, my little Queen,” he added with a smirk, “I know I certainly shall!” He grabbed the woman to his right and kissed her deeply, though his malevolent gaze never left Allrianne’s eyes.
“I’m quite certain I’ll find nothing I like here,” the Queen said, more coldly than she felt. The most peculiar warmth, a quite indescribable sensation, had begun creeping through her core.
Reaver only laughed devilishly in reply as she broke eye contact. “Carry on, everyone. Her Majesty is only interested in preventing suffering. Surely she does not wish to deny you pleasure.” And with that he pulled his two ladies back down onto the fluffy mattress and blessedly out of the Queen’s sight.
Several of the men, and even a few of the women, leered through their masks at Allrianne as she made her way through the room. In all her time as Queen, Allrianne had failed to see the purpose of a so-called “honor guard,” but now found herself wishing fervently that she was not here alone, simply for propriety’s sake. Reaver’s shameless guests had followed his lead and all looked at her with invitations in their eyes. Those that were not too caught up in their own pleasures, that is. The Queen had intended a righteous, authoritative, and thorough investigation of all the tawdry activities inside this house of ill-repute. But as the guests returned to their revels, she felt more like a prudish busybody intruding on private moments. The slack, ecstatic faces and low moans surrounding her made it obvious everyone in this room was enjoying themselves immensely. The creeping blush did reach her face as she caught sight of a man burying his head eagerly between a well-coiffed lady’s thighs. Allrianne looked away hurriedly, only to meet Reaver’s smirking gaze, still watching her from his pillows as his hands guided a woman’s head to his own nether regions.
Face burning even more fiercely, the Queen directed her attention to an open door off the back of the hall. Perhaps the real evil was hidden deeper in the bowels of the estate, though Allrianne would be surprised if Reaver himself were found to be missing the most sinful show. Mincing her way between the sprawling bodies, she clutched the pistol at her hip reflexively as she heard female screaming emanating from that dark chamber. At last! The trip was not an embarrassing waste, citizens of Albion were being exploited in this insufferable man’s home.
She burst into the chamber to find a woman, naked from the waist up, draped passively across a large wooden X in the center of the room. Cruel red welts were rising across her back as a man in a black leather mask lifted a whip to strike her again. Allrianne was about to cry some heroic command to halt this torture, when she noticed that the woman was not actually tied down. Her hands tightly gripped a silken cord strung between the supports, and the Queen once again felt a rush of embarrassment as she noticed the woman was grinding herself shamelessly against the wood frame. The next blow fell and Allrianne could hear the enjoyment mixed into the pain of her scream this time. Other occupants of the room looked on admiringly and even enviously, perhaps waiting impatiently for their own turns on the cross.
While it may have been improper, scandalous even, there was certainly nothing but enthusiastic consent going on here. Allrianne spun to return to the main hall, and was forced to stop short rather clumsily in order to avoid bodily contact with the tall, lean form of Reaver filling the doorframe. “Does Her Majesty find herself satisfied yet?” he purred down at her, dark eyes filled with triumph.
Allrianne took a deep breath before forcing herself to admit defeat. Raising her chin, she announced imperiously, “You seem to be complying quite well with the letter of the law, if not quite with the spirit.” She jumped a little at the sound of another blow behind her, and another adoring scream.
Reaver bent his head a little closer and ignored her barb, too intent on continuing his own line of innuendo. “I’m sure if Your Majesty would stay a little longer, we could find something to satisfy you even more… completely” he leered. She told herself that the only reason her body felt a thrill at his closeness was because he was one of the only men in Albion taller than she. A Hero’s stature certainly detracted somewhat from the romance of a woman’s life. Reaver raised a long hand, seemingly to caress her face.
“Do not think you have any right to touch the royal person,” she snapped with all the haughtiness she could muster, ignoring the part of her that seemed to long for just that. Submitting to this evil man’s advances was entirely out of the question for the Hero of Brightwall.
Reaver’s hand hovered for a moment longer as he held her eyes in defiance, then dropped to his side smoothly as he moved himself flush with the wall. “As Her Majesty wishes,” he said with a tone of feigned disappointment. “If you will not let yourself be free to explore your desires, I only ask that you leave us free to enjoy ours.”
“Yes I was just on my way,” she spat hastily, resenting his attempts to take control of the visit and dismiss her. “See that everyone remains ‘free’ and ‘enjoying,’” she commanded contemptuously as she made her way to the exit.
“Such is my utmost pleasure,” the libertine bowed as she left, “Tatty Bye!”