Disclaimer: I absolutely do NOT own Saga frontier or Fable, or any of its characters. I simply own the idea of this story to bring two great games and characters, together.
Author's Note: All right everyone so this is my first fan fic ever, so try not to through too many tomato's until you've at least given at chance. And at said time you still don't like it, then feel free but I do hope you'll enjoy. This was just a crazy idea that was burning a hole in my brain and would not go away no matter first chapter is kind of easy going but this will definetly become rated M for language, violence, and adult content (how could you have a Reaver story without any?). You've been WARNED. A bit of a slow start but I promise it will pick up and get MUCH better. And without further adieu...
Castle of Thorns
In Fascinaturu, the Land of Fascination and home to the race known as the mystics, a heated argument echoed throughout dim, empty hallways lit only by the light of the many glowing roses of various colors that grew throughout the castle. Behind a large portcullis like gate, with blackened vines and yet more roses woven throughout its polished silver bars, were the owners of the angry voices.
"My lord, he will not keep his filthy beasts off of my property and they wreck utter havoc, destroying everything in their sight! Something must be done about this menace!" A shrill, accented voice cried. The woman stood off to one side of the blood red carpet, her posture rigid and her face twisted into a unbecoming mask of fury and indignation. Standing to her left was the target of her woes and ire, a man clad in tight black leather pants and a floor length black cloak, his chest bare save for a leather harness adorned with small beaten silver chains. The man flicked a strand of brazen red hair from his eyes and pushed it back into the wild mane that was pulled back into a high up ponytail on his head, wrapped tightly with white ribbon to leave a tuft of hair falling from it in a feudal japanese prince style. A mischievous smile crossed his good looks as he shrugged.
"The hounds she speaks of are new and I've barely had time to train them. I cannot help they took her "garden" for some carnival side show." He admonished, drawing snickers from others among the court of people assembled and a shriek from the noblewoman. She was known for having a very strange taste in art and decor, which was also reflected in her gardening style.
"How dare you..you..."The woman sputtered. "Loathsome, foul, arrogant little.."
"Enough!" An elegant hand sliced through the air, indicating for the room to fall silent. Every single person obediently did so, some shrinking back to the walls in fear, others lowering their eyes and hoping not to incur the wrath of their sovereign. The angered woman herself quelled and look utterly diminished, her overly painted face ashen.
The Charm Lord rose from an ornate thorn that sat in a patch of spire like thorns driving up from the mosaic tiled floor. One of only two mystic lords, the Charm Lord, emperor of magic and collector of beauty, ruled them all and none held more power at their finger tips.
Violet orbs stared out at the two, calculating and silent, nothing given away in their ethereal hues. The silence became deafening and even the black clad man with all his pride felt his heart falter inside his chest.
"Zozma..."
He shivered hearing his name come from such a perfect pair of rosebud pink lips, his blue eyes rising from the floor to meet with his lord's.
"Yes, Asellus?" He quickly realized the folly of his error even before gasps came from all sides, followed by low insults hissed from between clenched teeth for daring to address their beloved lord in such a familiar fashion.
"My lord, forgive me I..." He started but again that pale hand rose into the air to call for his silence.
"It's alright." The Charm Lord said softly.
The tightness in his chest eased and he felt his heart lighten, something of his old friend was still in there then, if he had not been punished. Despite his better efforts, his lips twitched upwards in a smile.
He was relieved when the woman who stood before him, atop the dais and in front of the throne, gave the slightest of smiles in response, even if it did not reach all the way to her eyes.
Asellus, "King" of mystics, let the smile fall from her lips almost immediately, the act of plastering fake emotions on her face only making the harsh reality of something she'd rather not face right now unbearable. Mentally she steeled herself, and continued on with the royal proceedings.
"Until you have taught your new pets better manners, you will keep them on your own grounds. You will pay for the restoration of Lady Francesca's garden."
"Thank you, my lord! How generous of you" The other woman exclaimed, batting her eyes prettily and giving her best performance of gratitude and loyalty she could muster. Zozma bit his tongue, feeling the need to poke fun at the woman's swift change in demeanor.
"Yes, my lord." He said dutifully, lowering his eyes to the floor and bowing deeply, the chains of his harness tinkling softly.
"I trust that the matter is resolved, and will not be brought to my attention again?" Asellus said, hoping they both understood the tone that said she thought this whole ordeal was frivolous.
"Oh yes, yes thank you again! Most certainly a just and fair ruling. " Francesca said, and Asellus could she the gleam of immature victory in her eyes.
"Then you are both dismissed." With a wave of her hand, she turned her attention from them. One of the four young women who surrounded the throne, dressed in simple yet beautiful dresses of flowing white, turned and struck a small golden hammer against a gong, signaling the end of today's business. Little by little the mystics began to fade out of the throne room, turning to shadowed silhouettes, then disappearing completely from view as was the way of the mystics. Asellus waited until each and everyone had left, except for her old friend who now stood solely before her.
"You know, thats going to cost me quite a bit of gold to fix that horror story she calls a garden." Zozma groused as he approached her, scratching the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. She smiled at him, a little more warmly than before though not enough to count as a true smile.
"Then this will be a good lesson. Maybe next time you won't go causing trouble for your neighbors." Taking a seat in the plush crimson seat of the throne, Asellus propped her elbow on the arm rest and sat her chin casually on the back of her hand as she looked up at him.
"We can only hope." He said with a small smile of his own. He studied her face closely a moment, searching for something. The smile transformed into a concerned frown as he observed the dark circles under her eyes.
"Is everything alright?" He ventured cautiously.
Asellus, caught off guard by the inquiry, stared a moment before. Was everything alright? Someone asking something in such concerned tones these days was truly rare, and she wasn't sure she had an answer. A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips.
"Everything is well." She lied. "Go now, and do try to stay out of trouble. I'd hate to have to severely punish you." Her gaze idly drifting over to one of the numerous roses growing about the castle of thorns, a pure white rose pulsing with brilliant, luminous light.
He hesitated a moment, considering pursuing the matter but decided against it. In the years since his old friend had ascended to the title of Charm Lord, she had begun to slowly change, leeched of the vivacious life she had once been so full of until nothing was left but this frozen, wisp of a woman that sat before him. He knew that he could only be so familiar with her before she would stop him with that cold stare that had become so commonplace now.
"As you will it, my lord." Dipping into another low bow, he, like the others, disappeared into a shadow leaving her to her thoughts.
A long minute passed as she watched the light of the rose ebb in and out of intensity. Finally she tore her eyes away, a discontent sigh coming from her lips as she too, faded out of the throne room.
In the privacy of her grand bedroom, Asellus wandered over to the arched window, placing her hand on the smooth pane of glass. Her violet hues looked out at skies of Fascinaturu, the deep lavender sky was the same lonely shade as it always was, with black clouds streaked across its great expanse. All was as it always was, and always would be, eternally frozen in place. Nothing ever changed here in this cold superficial place, where the people could only bicker and fight, constantly at each others throats. Well that wasn't entirely true, some things did change, but it wasn't necessarily for the better. Fifteen long years of ruling over this devious race of people had begun to take its toll on her spirit. Shortly after rebelling against Orlouge, the former Charm Lord, and over throwing him from his place of power where he'd abused his powers to manipulate the surrounding countries into bowing to his will, and kidnapping multitudes of young women whom he imprisoned here in this very castle. He'd collected them as one would rare treasures, displaying them like inanimate objects to showcase his wealth and power, arrogantly showing the world his impeccable tastes.
Although he'd been incredibly selective, choosing only the most unique of beauties, over his extremely long immortal life hundreds of women had been robbed of their homes and lives, whisked away to this country where time never moved. When Orlouge had lost interest in one, he'd simply put them into a deep slumber, placing their bodies into crystal coffins throughout the many rooms of the castle and awaken them whenever it struck his fancy.
Asellus, being born a human, had found this monstrous. How could one presume to alter lives on such a large scale, bending so many to his will and acting as selfishly as a spoiled child? Only by what she could only surmise had been some divine retribution levied out for some heinous thing she'd done in a past life had she been brought into this world. On the way to run a small errand for her aunt who'd raised her, Asellus had been run over by Orlouge's carriage. Perhaps due to guilt or some other more whimsical emotion, he had deigned to give her a transfusion of his own royal mystic blood, granting her pardon from the beckoning darkness and immortal life.
Eleven years had passed while she laid unconscious in one of the unused rooms, and upon waking had learned of her fate and that she was expected to become the Charm Lord's heir, waiting around to take up his mantle once he tired of his crown.
Bittersweet memories twisted her lips into a sad smile as she remembered back then, the friends she had made along the way and the strength they had given her to go on when she thought she had nothing left. One woman stood out among the others in her memories, one of Orlouge's many mistresses, Princess Whiterose. Words like kind, elegant and warm could only begin to describe the the rose princess who had quickly became as close as a sister to her during those trying times. The image of her sweet face rose unbidden at the forefront of Asellus's mind, causing a fresh tidal wave of regret and guilt to swell and threaten to drown her.
Gasping, she clutched at her chest in an vain attempt to banish the aching hollowness that struck suddenly. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to the glass and stared wide eyed at the floor panting, waiting for the pain and remorse to recede while battling the tears that started to swim in her eyes. When it finally began to
ease away, a strained laugh somewhere between melancholy and madness bubbled up from her as the hot tears spilled down her pale cheeks. So it seemed the coldness of eternity had not yet claimed her heart, and she could still yet feel human emotion. But for how long?
How long does it take one to become a self absorbed monster?