A/N: I know, I know. 'Why are you writing another fucking Fable fic when you have so many other ones to get back on track?' Because I love the games, that's why :D
Warning for a manipulative and dark princess. This character is basically how I play XD
Dark Desires
Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup.
*Planting the Seeds*
Reaver was more than just the famous Hero of Skill and a notorious pirate. He was what many considered to be a man who had a way with the more promiscuous members of Albion's society. Men and women alike simply could not get enough of him when it came to bedroom activities and for good reason. The man was damn good. Not just with his prowess, but his ability to charm others into a mindless fantasy where every dirty little desire of theirs was granted.
Reaver was humming a very cheerful tune as he waited patiently in the throne room to meet with some of the king's other dignitaries when, to his pleasant surprise, the young princess herself decided to greet the court with her noble presence.
Princess Annabel was a woman who had caught Reaver's eye from the first moment he laid eyes on her, almost two years ago, and it wasn't just because she was the late Queen Sparrow's daughter. It was during an abysmal meeting with one of Mourningwood's repugnant residents, who had complained to the king about there not being any soldiers to keep them safe from the horrors that lurked just outside of their homes. The king was about to send in half of his armed forces from Bowerstone when she had suggested a more tempered reaction would be sufficient.
She caught almost everyone's eyes during her first ever court appearance. Logan had granted her a permanent spot in his council after that, showering her with lavish praise that would make Reaver himself blush.
Her head was held high as she went over to take her place next to the throne, her arms behind her back. Her elegance was radiant, her long brown locks neatly brushed and her makeup perfect, clad in her finest clothes. Many people saw her as the future queen when it was her time to take the throne. A time that did not seem that too far off, if Logan was to be believed. After an expedition to the distant desert land of Aurora a year ago, he had seemed to have grown more paranoid and it was weighing heavily on his mind.
Reaver of course hadn't been told the details, but the king had mentioned he talked to his sister about one day stepping down as king of Albion and letting her take the throne. He assured his advisors that the day he would was still plenty of time away, but something about the way the princess carried herself told Reaver otherwise and it wasn't just because she was Queen Sparrow's daughter.
She carried herself the way a leader does. Her words were able to inspire the court with ease, turning the tide into her brother's favour time and time again. For example when they met to discuss a law that put a limit on the amount of alcohol a person would be allowed to purchase daily, the princess was able to manipulate the law into affect despite many protests from the common rabble, showing how it would be more beneficial to the kingdom.
She glanced over at him and approached him. "Good day, Master Reaver. Waiting for the king as well?"
"Yes, your majesty," Reaver replied in a bored tone. "It is not like his grace to be tardy. He is usually...quite punctual for meetings with me." A devious smirk formed on his face as he thought of one of the many incidents he and the king had scheduled after the court was adjourned for the day. Bedding common whores in drunken orgies was one of the many things the two did together apart from managing a kingdom. Logan of course never told his sister about them, but Reaver was confident that she still was aware of them. The girl was unusually perceptive.
Reaver tapped his cane on the carpeted floor and let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose that he is growing weary of these tedious events. I can't say I fault him for it. The politics involved in his duty can wear on a person."
"Agreed." The princess nodded. "Ever since he came back from Aurora, I feel as though he has been unwell. Something out there unsettled him greatly. He isn't able to rest properly."
Reaver merely flashed her a sly look. "And do you feel as though you are ready, perhaps? Maybe you want to talk to him about becoming queen."
"No," Annabel replied coolly. "I'm afraid I still have much to learn before I can be the queen this country needs. Until that day comes, I am more than content to wait."
"Ambitious, are we?" The King of Thieves smirked.
"One has to have ambition if they are to get anywhere in their life. I may be the princess for now, but that does not mean I intend on staying one," Annabel answered. "There is little I would not do to make that ambition become a reality."
Now that got Reaver's attention. If there was one thing he enjoyed doing more than forcing miserable peasants to work gruelling hours in his factories, it was manipulation. Especially when the person involved was ambitious.
The princess was that person. Someone like her would not hesitate to swindle her way to the throne and she'd strike down anyone who stood in her way. Reaver could most definitely work with that.
With a smirk on his face he adjusted the top hat that covered his messy black hair. "Is that so? Well then, for someone such as yourself, you should have no trouble at all. Not at all, my dear."
"Oh?" The princess raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Master Reaver?"
"Please, my sweet, there is no need to be so formal when it is just the two of us," the King of Thieves cooed. "You are allowed to address me simply as Reaver." This is how he roped people in. He manipulated people into letting their guard down around him, starting off small such as allowing them to address him by name. Then, he showered them with praise, exaggerating their talents. Not a hard task to accomplish for a master like himself.
"Very well, Reaver." The princess smoothed out her dress, getting rid of a small wrinkle in the fine silks. "Could you elaborate on what you meant, please?"
"Of course, my little angel." Reaver's smirk never left his face. "You, my dear, have a remarkable ability to deal with this unpleasant rabble. They may not fully agree with you, but they all pay rapt attention and don't dare to question you. With the way you carry yourself in the court, you have the makings of being a fine leader."
That part was not an exaggeration or a lie by any means. The princess knew the time and place to either be commanding or persuasive, switching between the two with ease. A talent with words went a long way when it came to the royal court.
The faintest hint of a blush appeared on Annabel's cheeks and she looked away from him. "You flatter me too much. I am only playing my part and doing what I believe is beneficial to the kingdom."
"Or are you?" Reaver pressed on. "The nobles may never say it out loud for fear of being executed for treason, but they all are starting to look up to you much more than your brother nowadays. Haven't you notice how they only half-heartedly agree with him, but show much more vigour and enthusiasm with you?"
He had her exactly where he wanted to. Once he placed the thought of her being more suited for the throne than Logan in her head, it would continue to eat away at her until she gave into her ambitions. He would enjoy watching everything unfold, when the time came. For now though, the Pirate King was more than content to simply enjoy himself with a glass of wine and occasionally throw some more wood onto the fire.
"I suppose you are right," Annabel admitted. "They seem to have grown weary of him. Perhaps the time for a new leader is drawing closer than I initially expected."
"And you are that leader." Reaver placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her. "Think about it. The power at your fingertips, the ability to rule as you see fit. I can sense you yearning for it."
"Maybe." Annabel turned to face him and he noticed how her eyes grew dark. Gone were the beautiful pools of emerald green that servant boys and nobles swooned over; in their place was swirling black. A soulless void that would make the men and women serving as her subjects quake in fear like a frightened little lamb, devouring those who would dare to disobey her.
"But there is still one thing I need to do," she said, raising her hand. A ball of blue fire appeared in her palm and she sighed. "I need to make sure that when I'm ready to strike, I will not fail. The nobles already support me. All I need to do is ensure the common rabble will follow."
Like everyone else in the castle, Reaver had long since known that Annabel was a Hero like her mother. As the Hero of Skill, he could sense the magic that coursed through her body, and it was powerful. It rippled from her like a constant wave of energy, making his own blood feel more alive. He drank it in hungrily, almost purring in content. It was simply delicious.
"And what better way to start than by going down to the city to see for yourself?" Reaver let a slender finger slide down her neck, making her shiver. He hummed to himself, his warm breath blowing on her. "It will be a most momentous day for you, Annabel. Daughter of Sparrow."
The princess hesitated. She had of course never been down to the city, not since Logan took the throne. Her duties in the court and her training to use her powers often kept her occupied. But Reaver could taste her desire to escape from the castle. She was but a swan begging to spread its wings, tasting the freedom of the open air away from the fussing nobles and weary duels she had with the old soldier who had taken her under his tutelage.
"I'm not sure if that is most wise, Reaver," she finally answered. "At the present time, my brother needs me here. I cannot afford to go out gallivanting across Albion. I know I'm not strong enough."
"Maybe. But, how else does one gain experience?" Reaver asked, trying to hide just how proud he was of himself. Here he was, manipulating the princess's ambitions and using it as a weapon. A weapon that would bring in a new age for Albion. An age where people would be terrified of their ruler, rather than despising them. "You need only to be willing to take the next step. I've done my part. The rest is now in your hands. You can either be content with merely being the princess, cooped up in the castle like an animal, or you can go down to the city and worm your way into the hearts of the common folk, in time becoming the queen Albion so desperately yearns for."
The door to the throne room opened and in walked a dishevelled King Logan, followed by two of his royal guard. His royal armour was as shiny as always, however his hair was still a sloppy mess and he had dark rings of exhaustion circling his eyes. Reaver stepped away from the princess and winked at her.
To his delight, she winked back at him.
"Reaver. I do hope you were on your best behaviour with my sister." Logan scowled at him, one hand on the beautiful cutlass that dangled from his belt.
Reaver let out a gasp of mock hurt and bowed his head. Oh, the sorry bastard had no idea what was coming to him. "Your majesty, it offends to me to hear you insinuate that I would do anything to harm your younger sister. I can assure you; I have done nothing but simply give her advice for the matters of today's court."
Logan merely huffed and sat on his throne, crossing his arms across his chest. "Read the papers to me."
Reaver unravelled the piece of parchment and cleared his throat. "The matter at hand today is the future of the gypsy camp in Millfields. As you are aware, it is a historic site from which your very mother lived. However, the current residents, I feel, are dishonouring her name with their behaviours. Reports from your guards indicate that they are disfiguring the land, dumping their foul potions in Bower Lake itself. Action must be taken, your grace."
"I'm not going to force people out of their homes on just rumours and words." Logan's voice was little more than a growl.
"Brother, if I may?" Annabel piped up. This was her moment. "The soldiers patrolling Millfields are the ones you personally handpicked for the task. Some of them even fought alongside you when you aided the Swift Brigade three months ago. Surely you're not saying you don't trust them?"
"No, I do, but—"
"And what better way to preserve our mother's honour than by removing that which aims to slander it?" she pressed. "The residents of the gypsy camp do not provide any beneficial resources to the kingdom. It is far better for us to remove a limb rather than risk the spread of this disease. You heard it yourself; they are poisoning Bower Lake, one of our country's last pieces of natural beauty. I'm sure you would not hear any complaints from the residents of Millfields if you were to issue an order that removed these vile people, and it would show the citizens that we do care about maintaining our land. What is there to lose, Brother?"
Logan pursed his lips, thinking over her words carefully. Reaver hid his smirk behind one of the sleeves of his lavish white coat. The princess's counter argument to him made much more sense. It was beautifully manipulative and the king didn't even realize it.
"Very well," he conceded. "We must protect this land's history and treasures."
He turned to the elite soldier standing guard to his left. "Lieutenant, take a few men and round them up, forcefully if needed. In the event they resist, shoot warning shots. Do not aim to kill at first. "
"As you command." The soldier snapped off a crisp salute and left the throne room briskly, snapping his fingers to call forth two more soldiers.
Once they departed, Logan stood up from his throne with a weary sigh. "Reaver, when is our next appointment?"
"In four hours, your majesty. I would recommend you get some rest," Reaver advised. "You need your strength. After all, Albion cannot have a king who is unable to defend even himself."
Logan opened his mouth as if to argue, but the princess beat him to it. "Brother, please listen to him. Our king needs his rest, perhaps more than anyone in the kingdom at this point."
Logan sighed and looked a good ten years older. "Very well. If either of you need me, I shall be in my chambers." He walked out of the throne room, his movements sluggish, and Reaver and Annabel watched the doors close behind him.
Once they shut, Reaver turned to see the princess staring hungrily at the throne. She wanted it, more than anything. He would have loved to continue to encourage her, but unfortunately he knew he had a few errands to perform at one of his factories he owned in the capital's industrial sector. It was approaching the time when he needed to make an example out of one of the workers who thought they could get by being a lazy little indigent. They needed to be taught a lesson.
"I shall take my leave as well, my dear." Reaver tipped his hat to the princess giving her a graceful bow. "I have my own urgent business to attend to. Do not fret; I assure you that I will return as swiftly as possible."
The princess gave a quiet nod, however she did not look at him. Her eyes remained on the throne, staring at it the way a wolf eyes a rabbit. It was her prey, and she was the predator.
Reaver left her alone in the throne room, picking up his cane that he left outside. He twirled it in his hands with a devious grin on his face, chuckling quietly to himself as he descended the steps towards the entrance. Servants and nobles alike parted for him to walk through, far too afraid to impede his progress, and his head was held high. Everything had gone exactly as he hoped.
The princess's dark ambitions for the throne had been awakened.
He tilted his hat to block out the rays of the sun and clicked his tongue. The clouds were beginning to cover the sky in a thick grey blanket and he heard the distance rumble of thunder. A storm was brewing and not just one produced by nature. He himself had started one today in the court.
He planted the seeds. Now, all he needed to do now was wait to see if they would sprout and bear fruit.
A/N: And that is a wrap for the first chapter. Like I said, this is an Evil!Princess fic, so do not expect a lot of light and cheerful moments. It's been a long time since I've done a properly dark story for Fable and want to get back to my roots of writing for my favorite franchise of all time. Thank you all for reading, and good night!
A Lovestruck A2#5371