A/N: Hello and welcome to Chapter 10. Been a little hectic lately with work being an utter pain in the ass and having less motivation than ever before, but I'm still here churning out stuff. Want to get back into the writing mindset anyway.

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.

*Seduction*

Late in the evening, Annabel patiently waited in The Cow and Corset, Bowerstone Market's primary source of income. The tavern was bustling with life; on the first floor bartenders and barmaids hurried to make their rounds serving drinks to customers and the second floor was filled with rambunctious drunks singing horribly at the top of their lungs. Not the most pleasant sound she had to endure, but it was tolerable. For now.

She sat in a lone corner on the second floor of the tavern, enjoying what was either her fourth or fifth pint of ale. Despite not being a seasoned veteran in the art of drinking, her Heroic blood gave her a remarkable tolerance to alcohol. She wasn't even feeling tipsy yet and placed her mug down, her dark green gaze briefly flickering down as a trio of men entered.

All three of them were dressed like typical bandits, rifles slung on their backs and wearing grubby clothing they probably stitched together themselves when no one was looking. Tattoos marked their exposed arms and even from her spot she could tell they weren't exactly clean. 'Typical brutes. Not a single ounce of class amongst them. Even the common rabble has more elegance than them.'

She bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying a sarcastic remark. Hero or not she was still outnumbered and in public no less. The quieter her operation went the better. Causing a brawl in the middle of the pub was not a good idea and would most definitely go back to Nigel Ferret one way or another. Not to mention Logan would be infuriated if he heard the news.

The princess looked down at her chosen attire for slipping into Ferret's base. It definitely looked mercenary enough, with the dull blue jacket and slightly torn ruffles dangling over her right shoulder. The shorts were a little too small for her liking, but she'd deal with it. At least they highlighted her assets, something that could prove to be useful and allow her easier entry.

The three ruffians were already beginning to make life unpleasant for everyone else in the pub, leering at a few of the female population and making unpleasant remarks. 'Wait. Once one of them gets alone, I can get a bit of information out of him one way or another. If he wants a fight then he'll get more than he bargained for.' With a little luck one of them would notice her and immediately seek her out.

Annabel of course brought Scarlet Flame with her, the golden katana dangling on her belt. Ever since she acquired the weapon she had yet to leave it out of her sight for even a moment. Call it paranoia or security, but she didn't trust others to not ask questions or even worse, bring it to Logan to see what he knew about it. The king would undoubtedly recognise the katana due to him being a veteran in expeditions and have her eliminated. Until the throne was hers, it was best to keep the katana on her at all times.

The brunette princess folded her legs and kept her eye on the scene below, trying to find out which one of the three criminals would be best for getting information. One of them was already relieving himself in the corner, laughing at everyone else's groans of disgust. Definitely not him; Annabel would probably kill him.

Another was already singing horribly at the top of his lungs, each armed wrapped around a common tavern wench and holding two large mugs of ale. He was a little too occupied for her liking. The last thing she needed was to make a scene. As amusing as it would be to just shove those two floozies away to assert her dominance, she didn't need the attention such an action would inevitably bring. 'Be subtle. What would Reaver do if he were in this situation?'

She knew that Albion's most successful businessman was once the pirate king who ran the lawless city of Bloodstone to the southwest. While nearly all methods of transportation to the city were impossible save for by sea, it was still a part of the kingdom essential to Albion's economy by being a major trading port. Bloodstone may have been lawless, but it was still the second largest port in the kingdom behind only the capital itself. So, what would someone who once owned the entire city do if he were the one who needed information? Would he be bold and assertive, or would he prefer to sit back and wait until his prey came to him?

'He would wait,' Annabel mused. 'Being alive for so long taught him patience. There's no need to be so hasty. They will come to me on their own accord. For now though it is time to sit back and enjoy this delightful carnage while it lasts.' One of the young men serving drinks strode over to her with a silver tray in his hands, his face turning a slight shade of pink when his eyes roamed over her frame.

"W-would you like another drink, madam?" he asked with a slight stutter. His initial embarrassment aside, he was rather handsome. Neatly brushed light blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled with innocence and youth. If she were a tad more promiscuous, she'd consider bedding him. However her pride wouldn't allow it.

"That would be very nice, thank you. Another ale, if you would be so kind," she requested politely. She may be bent on overthrowing her brother and completely destroying any shadow of his rule, but that didn't mean she would be rude and callous to her subjects. Little things like that would go a long way. Having a keen understanding of the Albion psyche would be a great tool to use in her coup.

"Here you are." He handed her a mug that was almost overflowing with the amount of foam on top. Walter would be very envious of her if he could see her now. He always had a thing for a massive amount of foam in his ale. That and the famous silver hen ale from Brightwall, even if it included a bloody chicken feather for flavouring. There were some things about the old soldier she would never understand and his addiction to ale was one of them.

"Thank you again." Annabel finished her current drink before taking the new one and raising it to her soft lips. She grimaced at the sound of breaking glass and she turned to see that one of the criminals had smashed a glass of beer over someone's head, drunkenly cackling like a madman. It was like he was proud of the destruction he was causing and the princess rolled her eyes. Typical brutes.

"Oh for Avo's sake." The young man groaned in annoyance and pinched his brow. "I really wish these imbeciles would just bloody leave. They do nothing but make everyone else's life unpleasant every damned night."

"This happens often?" the princess asked. "Why not do something about it then?"

"The guards won't so much as lift a bloody finger to stop them." He snorted in frustration. "They're useless. I don't know what happened to the soldiers that the king's been gathering, but they don't care about the land or the people. As far as they're concerned, we can just get robbed or have consistent damage done to our property on a daily basis. If I could do something without getting killed, I would."

'Eventually, you push the oppressed so far down that they will fight back. Not because they desire change, but because they have nothing left to lose. They won't care if they die. Their lives were already stripped from them.' Annabel noticed a few of the other patrons leaving in a hurry as to not get caught in the drunken brawl and she smirked when one of the bandits left to wobble upstairs. He was swaying from side to side, chuckling to himself as he clutched the staircase for support.

'Perfect. He's alone and already somewhat drunk. He must either be a complete lightweight or he's looking to bed someone. Either way, I have him away from his friends and can easily use that to my advantage and extort some information out of him.' Annabel shot the barman a sharp look that said to leave her and he got thankfully got the message. Nice to see not all young men were as painfully dense as Elliot. The boy couldn't take a hint if his life depended on it.

The princess sat patiently and continued to drink her ale while the drunken barbarian stumbled his way upstairs. She crossed her legs, making sure they were on display, and the drunk gave her a sleazy smile. "Well, well. Hello gorgeous. What's a pretty little lady like you doing here all alone?"

"Waiting for someone worth my while," Annabel replied smoothly. "Sadly, I have yet to see anyone worthy of my attention for more than a few brief moments." Her trap was baited and set. All she needed now was for him to take it.

"Ha! You're awfully sure of yourself!" He laughed and took a seat next to her, allowing her to see more of what he looked like. He was remarkably clean for a bandit; a few scars lined his cheeks and arms, but his teeth were clean and no trace of dirt was in his light brown hair. If it weren't for the uniform she could easily confuse him for a mercenary. Perhaps he was one.

"You look a little too clean to be acquainted with those savages." She jerked her head towards the other two below, putting as little contempt into the action as possible. "Something tells me you're either a new hire, or, as unlikely as it sounds, you actually prefer being clean."

"Sharp eye you have, miss. You're not just some pretty little face, are you?" The man chuckled and looked over his shoulder to order another drink when Annabel put her hand on his.

"How about I buy you the next two rounds? In exchange for keeping me company," she suggested sweetly. It was fake sweetness, but it would work nonetheless. All that mattered in the end was if she got the information she needed to destroy Nigel Ferret's gang and no sane man could resist the temptation of a beautiful woman offering to pay for drinks in exchange for casual talk.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart." The mercenary grinned and let Annabel call over another round for her 'guest'. The same boy from earlier fetched the two their drinks, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two communicating jovially like old friends. Annabel shot him a glare that said to not ask questions and he scurried away, not wanting to get involved.

"So, is there another reason why you decided on me as your entertainment?" he asked, chugging his drink with all the grace of a barbarian. "Contrary to your belief, I'm not as pathetically dim as the rest of those idiots."

'Damn. He's smart. He caught on quicker than I expected.' The princess clicked her tongue in frustration. Of all the damn bandits to try and interrogate, she had to pick the one with a brain. Still, he made no ill move towards her. "Not bad. What gave it away?"

"That sword." He motioned towards the princess's katana with a sharp glance. "I've been in Eastern Samarkand before. I don't know how the bloody hell you managed to get your hands on it, but I know damn well what that is and I know better than to mess with it."

"More than just a brute mercenary. You have some intelligence." Annabel placed her mug down and gripped Scarlet Flame tightly, pushing on the hilt to spring a few inches of steel free from the scabbard. "Now, give me one good reason to not slit your damn throat right now."

"Because if you wanted to, you would have already done it," the man countered. "I know what that katana is capable of; I'm no fool. You sought me out for a reason. You need information about Nigel Ferret's gang."

"That's right. Now, tell me where he's hiding or you'll burn," Annabel said with a sharp hiss.

The mercenary finished his drink and looked at her evenly, not a trace of fear in his eyes. "He's holed up in Bowerstone Industrial, near the rundown orphanage. You'll be able to spot out the entrance to the hideout easily; it's the only house with a thick steel door instead of these flimsy wooden ones. Just don't expect to get in without a fight; Ferret's men may not be the brightest, but there are many of them."

"You don't seem to mind stabbing your comrades in the back," she said, loosening the grip on her katana. "Rather unusual. I expected more of a fight out of you."

"I'm not a savage murderer," he shot back. "I'm a mercenary. You may see us as nothing more than cowardly vagabonds who deserted their comrades, but we have our codes just like any other soldiers. We do not murder innocents, even if we're hired to rob them. These cowards won't hesitate to execute a beggar if they wanted to."

"So, I am giving you this information to see if you can put a stop to it. I don't plan on staying with them." He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, giving it a nice ruffled look befitting of a mercenary. "I would wish you luck, but it is clear you are not the one who will need it."

"You know, I think I could find a nice use for you." Annabel grinned, standing up and tossing him a nice pile of gold. "Next week, same time. Don't be late."

The mercenary raised an eyebrow sceptically at the bag at first until he untied the string and peered inside. "Bloody hell, lass. There are at least four hundred gold coins in here. Far more than what those bastards are paying me."

"Meet me here next week and there's more in it for you." Annabel gave him a slow wink over her shoulder, her katana in hand. "Until next time, handsome."

She had everything she needed. She could kill him now if she wanted to, but doing so would be messy and waste a potentially valuable tool to her in the future. 'I'll let him live. Why waste the potential use? He could do well serving as a spy for the military when I take over as queen.'

She had everything she needed. Now the choice lay in her hands. Did she pass the information to Walter so he could send a battalion in or did she do it herself? Obviously the soldiers were skilled in the art of warfare, but close range fighting in a dirty underground hideout was nothing like laying siege to a castle or fighting on a wide open battlefield. The kingdom would need those men for war, not raiding a mobster. If she did it, it would mean the army itself wouldn't suffer any casualties while getting the same results of Nigel Ferret's gang being destroyed.

'I'll do it. This could actually be a very nice test to see how far along I have come. Not only that, but once word spreads of the deed, the people of Bowerstone will see that I care more about the kingdom than Logan ever will. One choice means quite a bit.' Annabel fully sheathed her katana and left The Cow and Corset, aware of the leers the other two thugs were giving her. She met one's drunken gaze evenly and tapped her finger on Scarlet Flame's golden handle, sending him a message to back off before he was slaughtered. She'd do it if he made any kind of move towards her, unafraid of making a public display to show what would happen to those who tried anything funny with her.

The air outdoors was already cooling down, the sun having dropped almost an hour ago. The gentle sea breeze felt nice on her skin, despite the slightly salty ting it had. It was remarkable to see just how much Bowerstone had grown in the fifty years Albion had been a kingdom. It was always considered the capital of the country, but it had gotten even larger with the addition of the industrial sector and the marketplace had also seen its growth. It went from a nice market consisting of only a few large stores to having its own ports and the most frequented blacksmith and pawnbroker in the kingdom. Not even Bloodstone could match just how much gold floated through the capital, and it too was a massive port city. Needless to say, Bowerstone was the centre of both industrial and military might. If one wanted to gain control of Albion, they needed to take Bowerstone, no easy feat for even the strongest armies.

But she was not a soldier. She was the princess and a Hero. By the end of the night, Bowerstone would slowly but surely be under her control. Not through shows of brute force like a siege, but through manipulating both the hearts and minds of its citizens through her actions. They would see her for what she was; the rightful ruler of Albion.

And there was nothing Logan could do to stop her.

'Your time on the throne is coming to an end, dearest brother. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.'

A/N: And that ends this chapter. So, what'll happen in the next one? Glorious bloodshed and violence. Also ale. Because ale is good.

A Lovestruck A2#5371