A/N: Well hello all and welcome to chapter eight. When we left off we had just gotten a bit of information about our princess's deadly new weapon, Scarlet Flame. Now, we continue on!
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.
*Innocence*
Inside the throne room, Logan paced back and forth anxiously. Sweat poured down his gaunt face and his hands felt clammy as he held them clasped firmly behind his back. When he had awoken this morning, the first thing he was aware of was the tremendous agony in his limbs and the burning fever. It felt like the very muscles themselves were being eaten away by some mysterious assailant and the longer he wondered why his condition had taken such a drastic change the more he suspected Annabel had a hand in it.
But how could he prove it? There was no evidence he could find to prove his suspicions and he knew if he said something out loud then he would begin to look like a rambling madman. It would hurt his public image, especially since he could see just how popular his younger sister was becoming amongst the common rabble.
So how was he supposed to find out just what the bloody hell she was up to without looking like a madman? 'If I cannot go for the direct approach, then perhaps I shall play this game of hers as subtly as possible.' Yes, that had to be it. To find out just exactly what she was up to, he had to pretend he did not have the slightest suspicion. She would reveal her true intentions and he could deal with it accordingly.
The king of Albion stood a little taller despite his ailment and took in a shaky breath. The crisp clean air did little to ease his upset stomach and for a moment he wondered if he would vomit onto the light blue carpets. He pushed the bile down and remained firm, refusing to acknowledge the pain in his body as his mysterious attacker continued its barrage on his body. Judging by the affects it was having on him, he assumed he had been poisoned in some manner. Every king had his enemies and he was no exception.
'Whoever it is, they're either too much of a bloody coward to challenge my rule directly or they are very clever.' A tight lipped scowl formed on his face and he sent a scathing glare towards one of the two guards stationed by the entrance to the throne room. "You. Come forward. I have a task for you." Sure he had his suspicions about Annabel, especially after one of their conversations regarding her unnecessary harshness. But part of him still doubted she would stoop that low. She was still his little sister. Or rather, he wanted to believe she wouldn't.
"Of course, your majesty. What are your orders?" The soldier dropped to one knee.
"I want you to shadow the princess," Logan ordered. "However, do not let her know what your intentions are. You are to report any suspicious activity to me. Do I make myself clear, lieutenant?"
"Yes, your majesty. I live to serve the ruler of Albion," the officer replied quietly.
"Good. Now see to the task at hand. You are dismissed." Logan instinctively felt his hand twitch towards his cutlass and he had to dismiss that urge. 'No. Keep calm. Getting paranoid will only lead to more harm. I cannot afford to give the people the mindset that I am mentally unstable.'
The soldier left to his duties and the king glanced at the large circular map in the room. He strode over to it quietly, running his hand along the side. "This is my Albion. Its mountains will bend to my will or they will fall. Its cities will do as I decree or they will burn. This is my Albion. Its people will do as I say...or they will die. I've seen what must be done and nothing will stand in my way. We will be better and we will be stronger no matter what sacrifices we must make!"
He turned around and gripped the map tighter, scowling. "This is my Albion and I see her destroyed before I surrender her. No matter whom our enemy is." 'A king has enemies, but those fools do not understand what I saw in Aurora. The creature that dwells in the shadows is coming here and I have to prepare for the attack when it comes.'
When he was out scouting the deserts outside the kingdom of Aurora with a full legion of men, he stumbled into an ancient abandoned temple that radiated pure malice. Logan went to investigate its shadowy depths to deal with the threat, but all of his skill and training was in vain. Every single man he brought with him was slain by the most hideous of monsters, a foul beast that called itself the Crawler. A truly repugnant being spawned in the Void itself, it took create pleasure in killing, turning his men into nothing but shadows and laughing at the king's pain.
The king nearly died himself, having been severely wounded by the Crawler's magic and claws. Through pure blind luck or perhaps the blessing of Avo, he managed to crawl out of the temple and collapsed in the sands due to blood loss. In the desert he was found by a hunting party from Aurora and they brought him to their city, tending to his wounds and restoring him back to health. In the city, he saw what the Crawler had done to the once proud warrior kingdom.
Once full of life and prospering, the Crawler attacked the city and brought death and destruction, killing hundreds. The Auroran people were doomed. Before he departed the land, he made a promise to the ruler, Kalin. He promised that he would return with the greatest army he could muster and save them from the Crawler. That was four years ago and still he had not returned.
He did feel somewhat guilty about breaking that promise, but he had to have time to build the army they needed. Four years had not been enough. He had elite soldiers at his command, but they would need more men and women willing to die for their country. Not an easy task, especially with enlistment being rather poor the last two years. But he would manage to find a way just as he always had.
This was his Albion and he would not lose her without a fight.
Annabel sat down on one of the finely crafted wooden benches that were scattered around the castle gardens, a glass of red wine in one hand and a book in the other. The wind rustled through the garden and she took a sip of her drink. She didn't normally consume alcohol, having seen firsthand how it affected people. However, she would allow herself to enjoy the finer pleasures of life from time to time.
The novel she was reading was Meredith Sock's Cold Lips. Even though it was considered to be nothing more than erotic rubbish by the kingdom's upper class citizens, it was still a very enjoyable piece of literature. She had just gotten to the chapter when Eduarda had slept with Lord Sickly's son to get him to overlook a broken statue and she felt a hot blush creep up on her delicate face. It was sort of exciting. Here she was, the princess of Albion, reading erotic literature for her own enjoyment. If someone was to walk by and get a good look at the cover, no doubt scandalous rumours would begin floating around the castle.
She wouldn't pay them any mind; if anything it would be amusing to see how they would react to the news. Some of course would be shocked and sickened, mainly the prudish twits who refused to indulge in any sort of carnal bliss. Others however would be positively bubbling with excitement, eager to hear why she was reading it. If they asked she'd give them the honest answer. It was enjoyable, put simply.
And in her opinion it was much better than most of the other books in the castle library. A few were interesting, such as Reaver on Reaver and the one that contained the information of her newly acquired weapon, but most of them were the same load of old tosh. Dull, repetitive, and written for those who lacked any sort of taste and variety.
She felt Scarlet Flame twitch a little on her belt and she placed her wine down to stroke the weapon's golden handle as if to soothe it. 'There, there. Do not fret. You will taste blood, I assure you. You just need to be patient and wait for the right time. It does us no good to act pre-emptively and reveal our intentions too early.'
The fiery katana was alive in a sense, having devoured the souls of at least a dozen warriors before her. It was very similar to the Souldrinker sword that was kept locked in the castle vaults; both weapons were forged from the unknown and contained unimaginable power. However, there were differences between the two weapons. Souldrinker grew stronger from the blood of deceit, whereas Scarlet Flame was more deadly and relied on the Will, channelling the magic from the wielder through the blade.
The deadly katana stopped its movements and the princess went back to her drinking. She heard a noble sniff indignantly as they passed by but she did not pay them any sort of attention. Not when they would all be bending knee to her very soon. And they would. They would either drop to their knees and pledge their loyalty to her or they would perish in the most gruesome of ways. Simple as that. They wouldn't really have much of a choice in the matter; she wouldn't take no for an answer.
'Pathetic little toys. You'll be begging me to take the throne away from my brother, like the helpless little sheep you are. When that time comes, Albion will be in a new age. We will be better and stronger than ever before. No one will dare to cross us.' Annabel turned to the next page in her book and took another sip. 'Quite nice. I see why the less prudish members of Albion's upper echelon enjoy this as much as they do. One could become addicted to the simple taste very easily.'
She didn't get very far into the next page, for an elite soldier approached her and dropped to his knee. "My queen."
"Rise, lieutenant." Annabel glanced over at him, shielding her eyes from the sunlight gleaming off of his shiny steel armour. "What news do you have for me? Good, I trust?"
"Yes. The king has ordered me to spy on you," he answered quietly, rising to his feet. "No doubt he suspects you of something. What should I tell him in my report?"
Annabel smirked and went back to reading, lightly skimming the words. "Exactly what my brother told you. He wants you to look for any suspicious activity that may be a threat to the kingdom. You have not seen anything that is a threat to Albion so you can tell him that exactly. No doubt he'll be unpleased with your efforts, but there will not be anything he can do about it. Not without proving the suspicions many are having about him correct."
At the beginning of the day, she was worried that Logan had backed her into a corner, making it hard for her to manoeuvre efficiently without revealing everything. But now? Now her confidence in her plans had returned and she was able to push back at him. She underestimated how loyal the soldiers were to her and their loyalty could not go unrewarded.
"As you command. Shall I take my leave of you then?" the lieutenant asked.
Annabel chuckled and gave him a coy smile. "For now. However, your loyalty towards me cannot be overlooked. Don't fret; I shall reward you handsomely for your efforts."
She didn't plan on rewarding them with her body; despite her flirting with Candace and activities with Elliot she was not promiscuous. No doubt her brother wouldn't see it that way and would be infuriated that she had lain with someone outside of marriage, however she didn't mind. Princess or not she still had those same natural urges that needed to be satisfied every now and then. If she had to take a guess on who would be more entertaining to bed, she'd pick Candace any day. That sweet innocence had a certain charm to it, unlike Elliot's consistent act of following her around like a bloody dog. Deflowering her would be very thrilling. It would be far more exciting than sleeping with Elliot.
The soldier saluted smartly, the faintest hints of a smile visible underneath his shiny helmet. "Yes, your majesty. Thank you."
The princess went back to enjoying her book, watching the man leave. She could only imagine the look of frustration on her brother's face when he'd get the report that she was not up to anything. Give it a few more days and he'd soon go mad from being unable to discover the plot against him. An assassination attempt or two might also help the cause, if the opportunity to hire one arose. She'd be the first to strike them down and it would increase Logan's worry and paranoia. A win-win situation. It would also give her a chance to see just what Scarlet Flame was capable of in battle.
"Dear me, reading such a provocative and erotic piece of work? You are just full of surprises, my little sweet," a silky and familiar voice remarked behind her. Annabel turned around over her shoulder to see Reaver himself had joined her; she hadn't even heard him approach. Impressive. Not many could sneak up on her, but he was the Hero of Skill after all.
"Good afternoon, Reaver," Annabel said coolly, snapping the book shut. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 'I didn't even hear him. Impressive how he could just waltz up to me before I even realise it. Also makes him dangerous. Maybe I should drop all distractions and focus before I get killed.'
"It is simply a tiresome day and the court has no appointments for me today. Boredom can be a rather dangerous foe." Reaver flashed his devilishly handsome smile and reached into his long white coat to pull out a bottle of brandy. "Do you mind if I join you? You look like you could use some pleasurable company."
"Certainly. Please have a seat." Annabel gestured next to her and the businessman took a seat next to her, popping open the bottle and taking a healthy swig from it.
The two sat in silence for a few moments before Reaver started the conversation again. "I must say, it never gets old seeing how quickly this kingdom prospered under your late mother's rule. She was quite the remarkable woman as you know. So fiery, and yet so elegant."
"Indeed she was," Annabel agreed with a nod. "I can only hope to live up to her reputation and prove myself worthy." She sipped her wine and met his dark gaze. "However, that is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"
"Perceptive, aren't we?" Reaver smirked. "You are quite correct, my dearest. I wanted to ask you what you are planning on doing."
"Can you please elaborate on the subject?" Annabel feigned innocence. "I can assure you that I mean no harm to the kingdom my mother worked so very hard to build and sustain." It was true; she did not want to destroy the foundation that the late queen Sparrow had forged from sheer willpower alone. Rather, she wanted to usurp the deceiver that called himself the king and sat on its throne.
"That may be the case. However you and I both know that your brother will not see it that way," Reaver replied. "In fact, if I may so bold, he would call you a traitor to the crown and have you publicly executed."
"That's only if he manages to catch me in the act." Annabel smiled coldly. "I do not plan on letting that happen. I only plan on revealing my intentions when it is too late for him to stop me."
"My, my. A little conversation in the throne room is really all it took for me to ignite your darkest desires?" Reaver chuckled and took another drink. "Perhaps I underestimated just how powerful your ambitions were. Are there any other desires of yours that you wish granted? Perhaps freedom from something that is keeping you chained like a dog?"
Annabel paused to think. She was essentially leading a coup, she had an army willing to fight and bleed for her, and a weapon of devastating power. Was there anything that she really needed at the moment? 'There is Elliot. I don't want to lose the pawn so early, but being rid of him would grant me a bit more freedom and let me operate without him constantly following me around like a sheep.'
"Perhaps." She flashed the tall man a sinister grin and downed the rest of the contents in her glass, placing it beside her. "Tell me something, Reaver. How easily are you able to make accidents happen? Tragic accidents that will have me feigning tears and help my brother slowly lose what little sanity he has left?"
"It is one of my greatest abilities. Is there someone you need taking care of?" Reaver asked. "And who may it be?"
"There is someone who I would very like to leave me alone. Permanently," Annabel said quietly. "I'm sure you know who it is. A certain boy who is everywhere I go; being free of him will allow this to go a lot smoother."
The Hero of Skill chuckled and stood up, his dark gaze meeting hers. By Skorm she could lose herself in those shadowy depths forever. The smell of pixie tear perfume wafted from his body and the princess almost let out a groan of want.
His hand reached towards her face and she didn't flinch away as he drew closer, his warm breath tickling her. "I can very easily arrange that, my dear. Just say when and it's as good as done." His ringers were not dainty and smooth; rather they had a hint of ruggedness to them, a sign of his life as a Hero and master marksman.
"Next week," she whispered. "Right after the scheduled court appearance with the representatives from Brightwall and Bowerstone Old Quarter." The sweet scent rolling off of him was almost too much for her to bear and she tried to subtly rub her thighs together.
"Consider it done, my sweet." Reaver grinned. "In the meantime, I do hope you have a way of satisfying those primal urges of yours. It would do you no good to just keep it all contained." Damn, he had noticed.
"Maybe I do," Annabel countered. "And perhaps it is standing right in front of me."
"Naughty little minx." Annabel was disappointed when Reaver drew away, waggling his finger with a teasing smirk on his face. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that, dear. Consider that your payment for enlisting my services."
"You have yourself a deal." She wouldn't offer herself to a soldier who would inevitably meet his end on the battlefield, but Reaver? The man had lived through the crisis of the Spire's rebirth and fought alongside her mother as a Hero. He was worthy of that honour. She just had to wait to be free of Elliot before giving herself to him. In a week's time, the frustrating boy would be as good as dead and she'd have the freedom she desperately yearned for.
Reaver tapped his cane on the soft grass and chuckled before leaving, giving her a slow wink. "Tatty bye, my devilish little sweet."
Annabel watched him leave the gardens behind and she groaned. That rather persistent side of her wasn't going to go away anytime soon and she could use some nice stress relief before her brother came storming down foaming at the mouth.
"Damn you Reaver."
A/N: *whistles innocently and dusts my hands of any murder. Nope.* To be honest, I never liked Elliot at all in F3. He's just so goddamned annoying to deal with! Like shut the hell up before I take you to Lesley's cult and sacrifice you for fuck's sake.
A Lovestruck A2#5371