Warnings: Please be aware that this fan-fiction will contain profanities, sexual content, many bloody battles, some character deaths (although no one that the Fable series hadn't already killed off!), and an overly obsessive usage of semi-colons and 'big' words.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Fable series. This fictional piece is for merely entertainment purposes.
Rated: M!
A/N: Back in the fan-fiction writing business - although truthfully, I never stopped thinking of ideas. I've just been going through some things (University, family, aspirations, etc) and was beginning to question my love for fiction - and not just fan-fiction. Anyway, enough of that - I'm back, and now attempting a first at writing a Fable III tale. So if anyone would like to try giving me feedback on how to make a character's speech or details more related to the game, you are all too welcome to give it :)
Summary: A few days after having rescued Page's men from Reaver's Manor, Darius wakes to find himself and his faithful dog, Rylin, stuck in a cell. It seems like the past always manages to catch up with him. But when an unknown organisation from Bloodstone is bent on killing Heroes, the revolution takes an unexpected turn in its tale. Fable III: Reaver/Prince.
A Light To Rival The Darkness
Chapter One: A Grand Escape
It had been an accident the first time. He hadn't meant to kill her; it wasn't that he hadn't thought about it, since he most certainly had after engaging in a tiresome argument with her after returning from the mercenary's camp, but thinking and actually committing a crime were entirely different kettles of fish. And before the accident, he never would've thought himself capable of actually committing murder.
They'd been on a date – their fifth – and it was meant to be a peaceful getaway for both of them. After countless arguments between them, and with him having very recently returned from sneaking into the mercenary's camp to complete Sabine's second task, Jennifer had asked him to join her for a walk through Mistpeak's Valley.
He still didn't know if it had been the mercenaries' bullets or his own, but when he had looked for her after the battle, he'd found her body slumped facedown in the dirt beneath an oak tree, the only bodily wound on her being a single bullet hole through the heart. It had to have been his own gun; mistaking her movement in the trees for another mercenary, he must have shot her.
Who else could have made an exact shot like that?
Darius shook his head. Then there was another woman, Victoria of Brightwall. She'd been his second mistake, because after going along with her husband's wishes to flirt and pretend to want to marry the woman, she'd then seized Darius' gun back at the house and killed her own husband. It must have been the loneliness from Jennifer's death, or the overwhelming adrenaline from seeing Victoria murder her husband. He'd never before met a woman who could kill so easily, or else Darius didn't think he would have even slept, let alone married, the double-crossing wrench.
He groaned loudly, then banged his head against the wall behind him. She's dead now, so stop thinking about her – stop thinking about how she made you her little pet. It was the same with his mother, his brother, and at times, even Walter and Jasper. When he'd lived in the castle, he couldn't help following all those people. But that had changed. He had changed since leaving his home – he reckoned he wasn't half so agreeable nor naïve now.
Perhaps his brother, Logan, had been the one to set him off by murdering all those people. 'The Hero of Brightwall', Brightwall's citizens had so entitled him. Walter even called him by that name sometimes. He hadn't felt very heroic after sentencing all those people – protestors, though they might have been – to their deaths when he had been back in the castle, whilst allowing his fiancée at the time, Lady Elise, to hopefully escape.
None of that mattered now – he wouldn't woe himself with memories, and he had to get out this prison. By himself, if that's what it took. Darius turned his head from the stonewall opposite to take note of the sleeping guard. The man stood snoring away, just outside the iron bars that caged Rylin and himself.
Indeed, Darius, the Hero of Brightwall, had been captured, but he was almost sure that his kidnappers knew nothing of him, for if they did, they wouldn't have placed him in a cell with bars that could be so easily melted by Will.
The others would also likely be wondering where he was by now. It wasn't long ago that he and Walter had arrived in Bowerstone, although it was certainly long enough that he'd already ventured about the town and gotten to know its inhabitants. Oh yes, he thought with a grin, all under Walter's nose, too.
These people had gotten lucky in knocking him unconscious – he hadn't seen the man standing on the balcony above him, holding a hammer big enough to kill a balverine. But then again, they were stupid enough to leave him unchained with his dog and an untrained sleeping guard outside his bars.
Darius scowled. He stood up, placed his hands on the iron bars, and focused his Will. Rylin rose from where he was lying and trotted to his side, and barked twice - loudly. Darius hushed him in to settling down by tapping him on the nose.
The guards had seen fit to take his clothes, weapons, and gauntlets, but did he truly need his gauntlets to release his willpowers? Apparently not. Controlling his Will was more difficult without a gauntlet, but he could still feel his power tingling in his hands. Even if he couldn't control his Will well enough without his gauntlet, it was still a blinding, wild thing, burning down two iron bars of the cell door.
The iron bars melted into a smoky grey puddle and Darius stepped out between the bars. He picked up his weaponry from the table: his gauntlets he pulled on, and his rifle and sword, he strapped them to a belt and then hooked them over his back.
He also snatched up the two Seals that were lying next to his weapons. The first, his mother had given to him at a young age, and whilst he couldn't remember the tale, he knew that she'd received it from a Temple, one long-forgotten. The second, the Guild Seal, he'd gathered during his journey through the castle's catacombs with Jasper and Walter. In fact, the Guild Seal remained his only way of travelling to the Sanctuary.
Remarkably, the guard was still asleep a few feet away from him, and the noises he made could only be attributed to snoring or grunting, as if he were more piggish than human.
Darius snorted at having been ignored for so long, and then stepped towards the sleeping man, bringing his hands up. As the guard woke up, his eyes flickering open, he looked on the discoloured gauntlets on Darius' hands and gasped.
"You – you're out," he said. "You're not supposed to be out!"
"And I suppose you weren't meant to be sleeping on the job," the Hero retorted. He smirked, realising that Rylin was similarly growing at the man.
Darius placed his hand on the guard's chest and cast a charge of lighting through the man. The guard could do no more than scream before he withered and collapsed onto the stone floor.
I'll need his clothes, Darius thought, and not without grimacing. He wasn't in the habit of stealing from dead men, but he was naked – his genitals and pubic hair were showing as plain as the nose on his face - and damn it, he most assuredly wasn't an exhibitionist! Besides, the man's cry had likely alerted more guards and fighting them would be easier - much easier - were he doing it clothed and not bare-arsed.
He dressed in the guard's shaggy breeches and tattered boots, although they were a size too big for him. He hadn't touched the man's shirt; with all the rips and stains, the white tattered thing would be of little use in combat.
Darius then made to leave the dungeon, with all its empty cells, by taking the staircase a few feet from him. After walking for only a short time, a striking feeling of discomforted settled in, as the stonewalls bore no torches fixed onto them. So he lit a flame within his palm and then continued on up the steps.
"He should be killed already! Let me, darling," a woman's shrilly voice echoed. "I wouldn't mind doing it, not when we can finally be together."
Darius couldn't recognise her voice. Eventually, though, the stairway led him up to a wooden door that bore a small window, which allowed him to peer through to see.
The room was a hallway. There were no chairs or counters, but black and white paintings hung on the walls. Only an exotic plant - a bright, blue thing - in the corner seemed to light up the room. Then, he noticed the two people speaking to one another, standing in the shadows near the plant.
"...don't want him dead," Banal said. He was Bowerstone's bartender, a man Darius had often taken to bed since his arrival at the city. Their boot-knocking, however, really hadn't been anything more than sexual release for him. The man simply wasn't that interesting.
Nevertheless, if Darius was learning anything from Banal's current behaviour, standing so close to the woman that their foreheads were touching and their hands were lovingly grasping at one another's, he would have guessed that they were either siblings or, more likely, lovers.
"Then why did I go to all this trouble of capturing the man?" the woman asked. "Tell me, what did you even think we were going to do with him once we caught him, huh?"
"I dunno, I figured we'd just send him packing," Banal said, before sighing. "I barely know the bloke, but he's powerful. Rich. He owns almost all of Bowerstone's estates. He could hunt us down...and I wanted us safe, Cathy, that's why I suggested we hire some men to bring him in for us."
Darius snorted. Although he had become richer in the passing months, and certainly more powerful, it hadn't been easy. He had spent many a night fighting with Walter and his dog as they journeyed across Albion, and the scars he had gained – both mentally and physically – reminded him every day of it. And even now, he found himself diligently checking out the hallway for an escape.
There were three doors in the room, excluding the one he was leaning against. He reckoned about two guards were standing outside each door. Darius sighed. This'll be some fight. He bent his hand to ruffle Rylin's fur behind his ear, just to make sure his valiant dog hadn't wandered off.
"Sweetheart, I know," Catherine said, with a hand caressing the man's face. "We'll find somewhere nice soon enough, but we can't leave until we deal with this man. This – oh, what did you say his name was again?"
"Daniel," he answered. "His name is Daniel."
No, you stupid man, Darius thought angrily, balling his hands into fists. That's just the name I told you whilst I was trying to pick you up!
"Come then, darling," she said. "Let's finally go deal with this Daniel."
That's it! He grasped the door's handle, turned it, and then shoved the door back against its hinges so that he and Rylin, not only startled the couple, but caused them to step back in fright. Darius grinned and stepped over the threshold of the doorway.
"Daniel," Banal shouted in alarm. "You escaped…how?"
"Easily," he said, and he made to pull his rifle from his looped belt. "Although, I had expected someone far better than you to have captured me. Someone far…well, just bigger really."
"Guards, quickly - seize him!" Catherine screeched. "Seize that man!"
Six mercenaries, all armoured in leather, came bolting through the doors, and each one looked fit for a fight. Darius, in turn, was dressed in only a pair of breeches. He didn't know where his original clothes were, and now he couldn't care less: if he lived, he could easily afford himself some new ones.
He cast magical blades to fly towards four of the men, before letting off two shots at another to his left. Darius looked over his shoulder to see where his faithful dog was. Rylin had joined the fight as well, to his joy. Whilst the men were waving their swords at the magical blades, trying to fight them off, his dog had bounded in to sink his teeth into one of their legs.
The one mercenary left ignored the flailing of his mate beside him, since the two bullets from Darius' rifle had hit their mark exactly in the man's groinal area, and instead decided to charge at him.
Darius knew he couldn't reload his rifle in time, and he was barely able to dodge the thrust of the man's sword. He skirted back, and sideways, and again, before he thought to produce another mystical blade. So, as the mercenary swung his sword for his bare chest, in another attempt to make him bleed, Darius brought forth his hand from his back and sunk a shining, golden blade right through the man's stomach.
The mercenary spluttered profanities, cradled his bleeding abdomen as he crumbled to the floor. Darius snorted. He lifted his gaze to watch the men whom were dealing with his other aerial blades.
Of the four mercenaries, one lay dead on the floor. Rylin had torn and bitten off chunks from the man's leg and face, and his clothing was in shreds. It was bloody sight. Three men left, Darius thought. Three to die. He watched one mercenary hit a blade hard enough to fling it into a wall. The bright thing burst into golden-tinted dust when he drew his eyes over it.
Darius raised an eyebrow. Impressive. He raised his hand and formed another golden blade. "See if you can knock this away." The blade flew so fast, it caught the mercenary in the head - and he was dead on the ground before he could cry out.
The last two mercenaries caught Darius' gaze, then started backing away. His blades, still homing in on their movements, only turned to dust when they finally scrambled through one of the doors.
A few feet away, Banal was cowering against a wall, whilst Catherine stood in front of him wielding a sword. Her face was a twisted, ugly thing. She looks like a mouse whose loosing its eyesight. Her hair was brown and wild, though, and the scar across her lips made them all the more enticing to look upon. Darius thought he would have been quite taken with her, vicious nature and all, had he not had enough experience with angry women.
"You're a coward, relying on your magic like that!" she snarled.
"I need not use it to defeat you," Darius said, and momentarily glanced at his dog as Rylin, with blood smeared across his fur, returned to his side. He smirked. "Can you even use that sword?"
Catherine's lips thinned out. She stalked him with her sword drawn outward, looking like she intended to swing it and catch his throat. Darius threw his rifle to a corner in the room, seized his sword from the belt, and then swung it around his head to meet her full on with a loud clattering clash of metal poised on metal.
Her swordplay wasn't the best he'd seen, but her reflexes were well enough in that she was capable of avoiding and meeting his thrusts and swings.
Yet Darius had been a swordsman ever since he'd snatched a sword up from the Royal Armoury. At six years old, he had, the sword being far too heavy for him, knocked over a suit of a suit of armour with it. According to Walter, the old Queen mother had then hired him, to teach the young prince how to wield a sword before he did bloody himself.
Darius grunted. Banal's terrified cries were irritating him. He thrust his sword again at Catherine, trying to find a way past her defences. He shoved her with an elbow jab, making her stumble, and then thrust again. She screamed as his sword swiped upwards from her hip to her shoulder. As she collapsed to her knees, he grasped his sword with both hands to embody it into her shoulder.
She screamed until she could no longer scream, then could only wheeze in her pain. Darius twisted his sword before drawing it out with a satisfied smirk, watching her blood soak her clothes and drip on to the carpet. Catherine released her sword and moved her hands to attempt to stop the flow of blood from her shoulder.
Looking up, Darius observed that Banal was still standing against the wall. How could I have bedded a man so cowardly?
"Now, Banal," said Darius, "what could have possibly made you think that I wished to date you? At best, you were a reasonable fuck, but then I should have realised that your ego was larger than –"
Bang! Bang!
Darius stopped speaking to listen. Two shots had been fired off in the room to his left, and perhaps the clanking of swords meeting, too. He spotted moving shapes through the glazed window that was fitted on the door across the room.
"Sodding balls, you said you knew where he'd be!" came Walter's unmistakable voice.
Darius could have laughed.
"Why, my overly bearded fellow, I know where everyone of importance is in my city. Especially that charming little Prince of yours."
Another shot followed before the door swung open, revealing three grown men, two with swords in their hands, the other with a pistol, and the two mercenaries that had tried to escape earlier. The two mercenaries sunk in the doorway, dropping to the floor. Evidently dead.
Darius looked up from them, and scowled. "Someone had better start explaining why Reaver's here."
Reaver was wearing his usual white coat and heeled black boots. He also carried a cane in the hand that wasn't holding his Dragonstomper pistol. Always so well dressed and well armed.
"We didn't know where you were," Ben Finn said, before he turned to glare at Reaver. "But he knew somehow."
"Well, of course I knew," Reaver sneered. His gaze circulated over to Darius. "After all, one so rarely misses the good gossip of the common folk these days. It would seem that our dear Hero's escapades have made the talk of the town – why, you were even talked about in my darling home before I had all of those gossiping nitwits shot."
A momentary feeling of gratefulness enveloped Darius. He hated how people talked constantly about him behind his back, even if they were only saying positive things.
"I didn't believe him at first." Walter strode into the room. "I found Reaver wandering Bowerstone's Market, asking after you. Damned lout only said that he'd figured out where you'd been taken, didn't say anything else. Just made us follow him."
"I still say he could have led us into a trap," Ben grumbled.
"Oh, come, surely you don't think that I would've scrounged about at the docks with the peasantry for nothing?" Reaver huffed, and then looked back to Darius. "No doubt, you must know that your dearest sibling recently placed a rather bountiful sum of money on your delectable body being returned to him alive and unharmed. I was merely wondering how much our poor King must miss his younger sibling, and so, logically, I determined that it would make him all the more happier if the grand Reaver himself were to return you than a bunch of his moronic troops."
"Bloody traitor," Ben said, his face turning red. "Well, you're obviously not getting him now, Reaver, not with us here."
Reaver grinned. "Ah, but I am not the one with a face painted across wanted posters all over Albion - that honour lies with you and your daring rebels. But, dare I quickly ask, you wouldn't happen to mind telling me of your Headquarters' location; I could certainly make it worth your while."
"Over my dead body, Reaver," Ben growled.
Reaver clanged his cane against the carpet. "Now that I could certainly arrange."
Walter rounded on them. "Never you two mind arguing now – we've got to get out of here."
"Oh right, so now you lot fancy telling me where the hell I am." Darius scoffed, and he turned back to Banal and Catherine. "You know, you lot could have also bloody arrived earlier."
"It does one good to arrive fashionably late, actually. Although, mon petit prince," said Reaver, in his usual sensual tone, as his eyes blatantly wandered over Darius' bare, bloody chest, "it does seem that you've been preoccupied in starting your own extravagant party. Albeit a poor one, sadly – why, I see no sumptuous alcoholic beverages nor ravenous orgies anywhere!"
Walter shook his head, ignoring Reaver's last comment. "We came in through Bowerstone's Market's tavern, lad, and I think we're not far from the trapdoor we used. In fact, we really should start making our way back..."
Darius wasn't fully listening. Reaver's comment about parties had reminded him sourly of his last party. Though Reaver was truly a handsome man, he was very odd in his ways about having fun. So long as I live, I never want to see another balverine again. He cocked his fingers around the helm of his sword, the memory of blood-drooling balverines returning all too easily to his mind.
"You all right, there, lad? Mercenaries didn't hurt you too much, did they?" Walter asked, not having realised that Darius' thoughts had wandered away from them and onto Reaver. "
Ben was frowning so he'd likely noticed, but, given how the soldier also hated the man, and that Page and Darius had been voicing profanities against Reaver throughout the last week, he probably figured Darius was angry with the infamous tycoon.
"I'm fine," he replied.
Reaver must have also noticed that Darius had been staring, judging by how his smirk widened to the point where his cheekbones were very much prodding out of his face. But Darius' annoyance subsided with the man when, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Banal making cautious footsteps towards a door on the right-side of the room.
Swiftly, Darius returned his sword to his back, then seized the rifle from whence he'd thrown it to the ground. Banal's mouth dropped open; he was standing still against the wall, shaking. Darius cocked his fingers into the trigger and pulled.
The bullet pierced Banal in the throat, and his choked gurgles carried across the room. Slowly, he sunk to the floor. Dead and gone. Darius lowered his gun, and then exhaled to take in the familiar smell of gunpowder from his favourite rifle: Arkwright's Flintlock.
"You – you killed him," Catherine spluttered. Yet he was just as surprised to see her alive, in spite of the wounded shoulder.
Darius laughed. "What did you expect me to do, congratulate him on capturing me?" The wild woman tried reaching for her sword, but the young Prince was frankly tired and out of kindness now. "Ah, ah," he said, shaking a finger mockingly from side to side, "best not to try it. You wouldn't want to be shot as well?"
"You still want to kill her?" Ben snapped, stepping forward. "She's unarmed. Wounded. She's not even a threat right now."
"I protest most vigorously. Why would one being wounded ever matter when her own intentions were to kill you, my dear Prince?" Reaver said. "If you let this wrench leave, it is only simple logic that she will return to seek vengeance."
"Your mother was kind-hearted, lad, you'd do well to remember that," Walter added, glaring at Reaver. "She showed mercy on her enemies, and they never took advantage, lest she decide to kill them."
"Bah! You're mother was kind-hearted," Reaver said, "but her enemies were more so too frightened to rise up against her. Even her kindness had limits. As should yours, Prince."
Ben scoffed. "I'm surprised you know what kindness is. I bet you've never shown anyone the slightest bit of it in your life, let alone this thing called mercy."
Reaver looked about to rebuke him when Darius held up a hand, silencing them. "It is my decision, and I say she dies."
Walter shook his head whilst Ben's expression hardened in his irritation, but neither one of them made to argue with him. Reaver merely raised an eyebrow and twirled his cane about. He was the only one in the room who looked even the slightest bit amused by the situation.
With both hands, Darius raised his rifle. As his fingers pressed down on the trigger, however, Catherine swirled her body around to trip him with her legs. He fell, and pressed his fingers accidentally into the trigger, firing the gun.
He groaned. For a moment, he lay on the ground, his eyes closed. Then he heard a crack. He looked up to see plaster falling from the ceiling. It missed his head by inches. He rolled to the side, jumped to his feet, and saw Catherine, sword in hand, shoving her way past Walter, Reaver and Ben to make through the door.
Darius picked up his gun again. He aimed for her back just as she was running down the corridor, but found that he couldn't shoot – the damned rifle had no bullets in it! He latched the weapon to his back, then made to chase after her, barely aware of whether his companions were following. Catherine's only gained a measly head-start, I can still kill her.
"All this running about, really," Reaver shouted, although he was clearly running himself, judging by how close he sounded. "it's no wonder now why you rebels don't get invited to many parties."
"Shut up, Reaver," Walter snapped back.
Darius was catching up. Catherine could be no more than a few feet away, her long brown hair an arms' length at most, and with her shoulder she'd have to stop soon to recover and bind the wound. But more of her mercenaries kept appearing, and it took time to kill them, and on top of that she was avoiding the aerial blades he shot at her.
He followed her down a right turn, to find a ladder at the corridor's end. Above, hidden in the ceiling, was a trapdoor. Catherine grabbed hold of the ladder. Darius seized her ankle, hoping to pull her off using his strength, but then strength had never been his forte and she kicked at his hands and climbed. In amazement, he watched her thrust upon the door and leap out. She's a force of thunder, he thought, making to follow her still.
The trapdoor led up to Bowerstone Market's Inn. He threw himself over the bar's counter, and then ran out into the streets. To his astonishment, though, he was met by a crowd of morning shoppers - not her. He had lost her.
Darius dragged his palm down his chin. He was himself so agitated that when Rylin waltzed up to him and rubbed his muzzle against his leg, he had to bite his cheek to keep from shouting at his dog. It's not his fault she escaped.
"So, your woman got away?" Ben jibed, marching out of the inn with Walter and Reaver at his heels.
"She wasn't my woman, Ben, but yes, she did get away."
"Balls." Walter was panting. He patted his uniform, which had grown askew during their running, then added, "I don't suppose you'll be telling us what that was all about?"
"Tomorrow. I think a shirt is more in order. I feel quiet...underclothed." It was an understatement. The townsfolk were eyeing his blood-soaked chest. A woman with blond-grey hair was scowling from her window, whilst others simply gave him lingering looks as they passed by along the street.
"Oh contraire, the less garments on you, the better, sweet Prince," Reaver declared, tapping his cane on the ground. Darius coughed, then rubbed his neck. He was still unused to the man's boldness. "But alas, though I would enjoy another round of traipsing through the depths of some seedy, dark establishment, preferably with even less clothing and more alcoves involved -"
Ben took his rifle off his back and then aimed its barrel at Reaver. With a sigh, Darius seized him by the arm, and forced him to lower the weapon. Reaver smirked. He removed his hat and bowed so low that he met Darius' hips. Ben snorted, and pulled his wrist away out of Darius' grip.
"Ah. I hope to meet you again, mon petit Prince. You are, dare I say, more interesting than your wee companions." Reaver tossed him a wink before he rose to full height. He glanced at Ben and Walter, then, smirking, turned his attention back to the Prince. "Perhaps a more private setting next time, oui?"
Darius smirked. "Goodbye, Reaver," he said, hoping to hide his amusement and interest by saying as little as possible. After all, he didn't wish to announce his interest in the man. Not yet, anyway.
"Oh, how sweet partings do make my heart yearn. But business calls. Tatty-bye!" He strode off for the road that led to Bowerstone Industrial.
A wheel of balverines and hobbes, and now he hunts down ex-lovers in an inn with me. He didn't fear so much Reaver killing him, because the man could've killed him before at his Mansion. Perhaps he's just as interested in me as I am in him.
"Page will never believe this," Ben remarked, apparently watching the man walk away as well.
"You're going tell the girl we let the renowned Reaver help us, then let him walk away?" Walter said, his eyebrows raised. "She'll have your head on a platter, boy."
"Actually, I don't think I should tell her." Ben grinned maliciously. "No, I think our Hero here should have the honour instead."
"I think this Hero would much more prefer to have a nice, hot bath at his home at Millfields," Darius said, half-laughing. "So I'll be seeing you all at the base. Tomorrow."
Walter grabbed his arm before he could take a single step to leave. "You sure you're all right, lad?" he asked. "Only, that man you killed down there…you won't be getting into anymore trouble like that now without us, I dare hope?"
"I'll be fine." He motioned to his dog. "Come, Rylin. You and I are urgently in need of good grub."
Rylin yapped and trotted after him. He's more hungry than me. Darius left down the main road of the marketplace, and then rounded a corner. He had no intention of heading to his home in Millfields just yet, for there was someone he yet wanted to visit in Bowerstone's Old Quarter district.