Hey :) this story is set as if the queen and logan had another sister, who is the princess and who has just returned about a year or so after the crawler's attack and defeat. I tried my best and love to know what you guys think or even if you just show me you like it by adding a story alert or something.
Playing Fable 3, I just loved Reaver so much that I had to write something with him in, cuz he's such a great character!
Enjoy!
Princess Elena panted heavily as another shrill gunshot forced her to leap back. Her shoulders pressed against the rough bark of the tree she was currently using as a shield as her eyes desperately searched for some form of protection. She had found herself in dire situations like this before, but never so underprepared. The bandits had attacked without warning as she was sleeping; sneaking up with surprisingly stealthy paces and managing to get close enough that, had it not been for the overpowering smell of ale and gunpowder invading her dream, Elena might have been finished. The princess of Albion finished by mere bandits? How shameful!
But she feared that outcome might actually occur as a bullet ripped into the side of the tree. Her sword and trusted pistol lay a few meters out of reach, forgotten in the sudden scramble after being so rudely awoken, and her dagger was buried in one of the bandit's necks, pinning them to another tree. Elena was always proud of her aim and strength, a trait she had no doubt inherited from her mother, the late Hero Queen.
Ignoring the painful pulsing in her head that foretold the beginnings of a headache, she pushed strands of wavy blonde hair out of her eyes with one hand as the other clawed at the tree trunk; worn nails breaking the pieces of bark off and praying to the Gods for something, anything, to get her out of this predicament.
"Don't hide, my pretty." A gravelly voice called, making her shudder "Why don't you come out and I'll show you the things I plan to do to that lovely body of yours?"
Crystal blue eyes widened and then narrowed as anger boiled in the pit of her stomach.
"Why would don't you come over here and show me, unless you're scared?"
Right after the scornful words left her mouth Elena regretted them. She had always been hot-tempered and often lost control of her words, but provoking armed bandits while she was practically helpless – where would that get her?
"Ooh," another chimed in "We've got ourselves a feisty one."
Heavy footfalls against crunching leaves told her that they had risen to her challenge. Dread drowned out the anger, and she raised her eyes to the night sky and whispered "Please, something help, please, please."
No sooner than after the last syllable had left her trembling lips, a horrific, ghastly roar that had even her blood turning cold filled the air. Elena trembled at the sound and, although it terrified her, she slumped against the tree in relief as the bandits' panicked voices and footsteps began to hurriedly fade away. Risking a glance out, she peeked round the side of the tree to see one of the most disgusting yet intriguing sights her young eyes had ever been subjected to.
A huge furry creature with great, sharp claws and piercingly yellow eyes was towering over the suddenly frozen bandits. Its body was hunched over and breathing heavily, yet it still rose well above the men. There was an abrupt pause and then a pain-filled, chilling scream was cut off as blood splattered across the forest floor. Elena bit back a gasp and hurriedly pressed herself back against the tree trunk as if it would hide her from the terrifying beast and scene that she had just witnessed.
Balverines.
Maybe returning to Albion wasn't the best idea.
Two hours later, standing at the gates of the castle, with her clothes in tatters and blood streaked through her hair and across her aching, scratched skin, Elena told herself that returning to Albion had been exactly the wrong thing to do. If it had not been necessary due to her current fatal situation, she would have happily spent the remaining two years of her cut-short quest exploring.
After spending two years away, her nineteen year old body had matured well; she now bore more of a resemblance to her mother and sister than before, with a tall, lean figure, slim waist and long legs. Although she didn't have her sister's black hair and dark eyes, Elena possessed a similar beauty; wide blue eyes, a narrow, curved nose and plump lips complemented by high, flushed cheekbones. Her hair fell down to her lower back in knotted waves, a naturally dirty blonde colour that she guessed she had inherited from her father.
But right now, Elena didn't feel very beautiful – or even like royalty.
She had fought off the balverines, managing to attain her sword and single-handedly slashed and ripped her way through the beasts to escape. There had been many of them and the team she had left with on her quest two years ago now lay dead due to unfortunate yet unavoidable circumstances. She was tired and weary.
Yet staring up at the huge, dominant silhouette of Bowerstone castle, she felt the biggest urge to turn away and head back out into the wilderness. But, knowing that would be unwise in her condition, she regretfully traipsed her way towards the intimidating building.
The first rays of light were just hitting the turrets of the castle as Elena began her fatigued ascent to the front gates, but it did nothing to banish her dark mood. Even Arthur, the jolly guard whom she had always gotten on well with, didn't cheer her up as he announced her surprise arrival. She merely offered a strained smile, brushing some of the dried blood out of her hair and proceeded in. After closing the door behind her with a loud, resounding clang, only silence greeted her from the cold, grey walls.
Typical.
Elena felt more alone than ever.
"My my, hasn't a certain little princess matured well since being away?" came an aristocratic, conceited voice which Elena knew all too well.
If the steady tap of a cane and tell-tale clicks of expensive shoes against the hard, stone floor wasn't enough, the smell of spice which engulfed her senses and pointed chin resting on her shoulder told her exactly who it was.
"I must say," his breath was warm against the shell of her ear and she fought back a shudder at the close proximity; such things had not been experienced for a long time, "even with your clothes all ripped and blood dried in your hair, you look positively ravishing, my darling. Although, I do find that the state of your clothes pleases me more than they would normally."
She tilted her head to follow dark eyes down to where a particular scratch had exposed more of her chest than what was classed as decent. She merely pulled at the flimsy material, giving up as it proceeded to fall back exactly the way it had been before, and shrugged off the man looming over her, his demanding presence overwhelming.
Her ocean eyes locked onto gleaming dark ones as she turned round, deviancy and wickedness swimming in the chocolate depths. Flawlessly sculpted eyebrows rose patronisingly as the unforgettable smirk graced those coral lips. A straight nose and devilishly high cheek bones framed by silky dark tresses styled to perfection completed the devastatingly handsome face. A face which had, no doubt, graced many beds and broken many hearts over the endlessly long years. A large fur collar wound around the unblemished, smooth skin of his neck, leading down to a spotless brown waist coat where, below that, the legendary Dragonstomper gun hung from a holster; the metal as shiny and flawless as it had been the last time she had seen it.
Luckily Elena had never been on the receiving end of that gun. Neither had she been on the receiving end of the man who wielded it.
Reaver.
The notorious ex-pirate king turned business entrepreneur.
"Haven't changed a bit, Reaver." Elena said forcing the tiredness from her tone; to show weakness to this man would be a very dangerous move. "But, then again, you wouldn't, would you?"
A sadistic smile rewarded her. "Ooh, you definitely have grown up."
He began to circle round her, ever-present cane tapping against the floor. Elena tried to stand tall under his scrutiny but couldn't flatten the urge to at least wipe the blood off her face; being inspected by one so clean and pretentious made her feel inferior. Her cheeks reddened slightly – an occurrence so rare over the past months that the heat almost felt foreign against her creamy skin.
"I find that blush coating your cheeks so adorable." She felt a playful nip at her ear lobe and her breathing hitched. She had never been so openly exposed to his seductive side before.
"And I see that one lucky person has deflowered my Rose."
If the blush had felt warm against her cheeks before, it now felt like an open flame. It wasn't just the fact that nobody else called her by her middle name, but the meaning behind his words and how he even knew that!
"Well...I..." she spluttered, feeling the heat travel across her neck, "It was...um, I... Reaver!"
The man in question was standing right in front of her, smirking devilishly, eyes glinting with undisguised mirth and enjoyment at seeing her squirm. "Yes?"
Elena tried to look angry. "That, Reaver, is none of your business... And how did you know anyway?"
He smiled a sadistic, victorious smile that was reminiscent of the way a predator would attract its prey. "Well you don't live forever and not learn to notice certain things – especially if you take a vivid interest in such...pleasurable activities as I do."
Elena nearly trembled at the primal, fierce look that came into his eyes as he said that. She simply stood there, in her tattered clothes and with messy hair, blushing and inwardly panicking. What was Reaver trying to achieve here? She already knew about his dominant position and influence over Albion, and his reputation; she'd heard the stories about his past escapades as a pirate and listened to him brag about his sexual conquests...was that what he was trying to do? Turn her into another conquest? It would certainly be one to remember; the princess of Albion, sister of the Queen, and renowned fighter falling at Reaver's feet... No.
Anger churned in her stomach. She was stronger than that...for the time being anyway...
Narrowing her eyes and squaring her shoulders, Elena stared defiantly up at Reaver who seemed slightly surprised by the sudden change in demeanour. "What do you want with me Reaver?" she demanded "I've just got back from a long and tiring quest if you cannot already see that. I want to go and have a bath, eat some hot soup and then go to bed to get a decent sleep for once."
When he offered no reply, simply running his eyes over her figure – but strangely not in a provocative way, face impassive and blank, unreadable, she scoffed and stomped past him, using the last of her energy to bash against his shoulder. He stumbled, catching himself on his cane, and she began her lonely ascent up the grand staircase...until he spoke.
"Hmm, yes. You are looking a bit peaky."
Although relatively harmless, his words caused her to stop dead. If he noticed then surely other people would too...? What if they found out? But, then again, most would just blame it on the wearisome, tedious journey home and battle against the balverines. However, something in Reaver's tone suggested that he would not be so quick to come to the same conclusion as others.
"My dear Rosie," she had been stuck in her own thoughts for so long that she hadn't noticed Reaver climb the steps after her, his breath was hot against her ear, "You didn't get into any trouble on this little quest of yours did you, hmm?"
Elena stayed stock still, blue eyes wide and lips parted, frozen in fear. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so loudly she wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it! She didn't want anyone else – even Reaver – to have to bear this burden. It was hers. Hers alone. She had gotten into this mess; she would deal with the consequences on her own.
"And what..." she had to clear her throat, the sudden dryness making it hard to speak, "What do you care if I did?"
He stepped around her so he was standing on the step above, leaning down on his cane to observe her through narrowed, speculative eyes. The heart tattoo that rested beneath his right eye scrunched up as he continued to stare at her with that intent, determined, yet undeniably curious gaze. Elena made sure to keep her features determinedly blank – thought she couldn't be sure that her immediate fear didn't show in her eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by another voice. A voice that was feminine, terribly familiar and so terribly powerful. It rang throughout the hall and Elena, instead of being glad to hear it, found that she wanted nothing more than to run and hide under her soft, warm bedcovers and sleep for a few days.
Queen Elliya.
The power the throne wielded had obviously influenced her in the years that Elena had been away. Her tall, willowy figure was shrouded in a long, midnight blue dress that puffed out magnificently on the sleeves and trailed along the carpeted floor. Although her features hadn't changed much, the brown eyes and hair still present, she had the look of a much older person; one who had seen and done too much in a lifetime. Where her voice used to be fairly quiet it rang out clearly across the hall, demanding to be heard.
"Reaver! What are you still doing here?"
Elena cast her eyes downwards as her own sister failed to even acknowledge her existence.
"The meeting was finished some time ago... Oh! Elena!"
She looked up at the mention of her name, meeting the brown eyes that gazed her way. But the softness that they once held was gone now, replaced by the hardened look that no doubt came from being the ruler of Albion. The smile looked too forced, as if it had been repeated many times and she had simply got used to wearing it.
"Hello." Elena said simply, hearing Reaver scoff quietly at her pathetic entrance.
"How good to see you! You're looking a bit worse for wear aren't you? We'll have to get you cleaned up. And get you some new clothes...is that blood in your hair?"
All these questions and statements came so fast, Elena barely had time to make sense of them all. But she noticed that not one of the questions had been about her quest.
"Yes," she answered in a whisper, clearing her throat again, "There were some balverines in the woods."
The Queens' eyes widened. "And you killed them all by yourself? Well done, Elena!"
Elena frowned at the patronising, childish tone and heard Reaver scoff again beside her. "Yes, well, it's not like I'm a child anymore is it?"
The Queen smiled again and Elena saw a glimmer of her old sister shining through. "Certainly not."
"And my quest went fine, thanks for asking."
She seemed to miss the sarcasm, glancing towards a door on her left and answered distractedly "Oh did it? Good, good. Anyway, I will come and talk to you later and you can tell me all about your adventures – but I've got some very important business to attend to."
Elena plastered a smile on her face when the Queen looked back. "Certainly, go ahead." She forced a strained smile and gestured towards the door.
The Queen offered one more distracted smile before dramatically sweeping through the door, dress dragging on the floor, where it shut behind her with a resounding clang.
Elena sighed. She hadn't even remembered that her quest was meant to be four years and not only two. Suddenly the hunger and tiredness and lack of energy seemed to overwhelm her. She felt weak, like she was trapped in an old woman's body.
Reaver's gloved hand came to rest on her shoulder. She didn't even have to energy or will to push it off.
"Poor little Rosie." He remarked.
Elena huffed.
Poor little Rosie indeed.
Thanks for reading!
So what did you think? Any mistakes? Ways I can improve ect?