A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter eleven. It has been awhile and for that I do apologize. Real life hit me harder than expected and I lost a significant amount of work as a result. Once I had a new laptop though it has been smoother sailing.

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.

*Demon*

Annabel arrived at the location given to her by the mercenary earlier in the evening, a small frown forming on her face. The neighbourhood was a filthy slum in a forgotten corner of Bowerstone's industrial quarter. It had little to set it apart from the other slums; the only notable feature was the presence of the city's orphanage. Like the other buildings in the area, it too had fallen into a state of disrepair; wooden boards covered the windows and several large holes were in the roof.

'Revolting.' The princess curled her lip and avoided a puddle of what appeared to be a beggar's vomit. The stench coming from the neighbourhood was enough to make a nobleman faint. It reeked of both decay and the impoverished. She felt the urge to take a bath just standing here, if only for the fear that the odour would cling to her like a foul cloud. 'I think I'll do that when I return to the castle.'

Brushing aside her disgust for the time being, Annabel narrowed her dark eyes into a squint as she tried to make out the building she was searching for. She spotted it easily amongst the other rubble; it was in relatively good condition and had a heavy steel door blockading it just as the mercenary said it would. 'Your information was right. No wonder the guards can't lay a proper siege on it. You could only get one or maybe two people in at a time.'

She pressed on the hilt of her katana, springing a few centimetres of razor sharp steel free from its prison. Right now, she needed to weigh her options on how to go about eradicating the vile mobsters that lurked inside. She could do the subtle approach and ask about enlisting, but she didn't exactly have time on her side; she needed to be back at the castle by dawn. Gaining their trust could take a week, maybe even more depending on how paranoid they were.

Or, she could go with the more aggressive approach. If she was honest, she liked that option a lot more than sneaking around. Annabel could feel the side of her she kept hidden from the public eye begging for release, craving the inevitable slaughter. 'Hmph. This feeling...it's so hard to keep suppressed. The thrill of it is simply too much to bear. There's nothing more exciting than feeling the rush of blood.' A malevolent smile etched onto her delicate face and she drew the rest of Scarlet Flame, the cold steel coming to life with its unholy flames. It too craved the blood of others and she was only too happy to oblige it. 'I told you, didn't I? I assured you that you would get to taste flesh.'

She raised it over her left shoulder and swung, creating a powerful wave of fire. The magical attack struck not the door itself, but the wooden surface around it. Without anything to support its bulky weight it toppled onto the floor with a loud crash and Annabel started to slowly trek up the stairs, keeping her sword out for the time being. She heard a panicked yell from inside and her dark eyes met the fearful ones of one of the mobsters. He fumbled for his gun only to be impaled in one quick movement.

He let out a gasp of pain, looking down at the cold steel imbedded in his chest. Scarlet Flame easily tore through the lightweight leather vest, blood slowly leaking down the blade and dripping onto the floor. "Y-you...! You...won't g-get away with t-this!"

Annabel smiled. By Skorm, it was thrilling taking the lives of others. The way her adrenaline rushed through her body made her limbs shake and her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. 'Is this how Reaver felt every time he's killed someone? This feeling of power is just intoxicating.' "I'm afraid I already have."

She twisted the katana deeper before yanking it out, enjoying the splash of blood as the criminal fell to the floor in a heap. The light faded from his eyes with his dying breath and Annabel stood over him with a malignant gleam in her cruel gaze. "Pathetic."

She sheathed Scarlet Flame for the time being and performed a quick sweep of the room to see if any more were hiding. Nothing but silence answered her and she stepped over the corpse without remorse or pity. She kicked over a small table, spilling the chessboard off of it and sending the pieces to the ground with a clatter. Still, no one withdrew from room. However, she knew that there was more than just one of the fools. There were always more.

Scowling, she searched for anything that could be a possible clue as to the whereabouts of the others, including Nigel Ferret himself. He was the main target of course; it didn't matter if she killed his pawns. As long as he remained, Bowerstone would suffer from his crimes.

The princess noticed a small trapdoor hidden underneath a desk. "Clever. But not good enough." She took two strides to it and popped it open, descending the ladder and into the true hideout. When her boots next hit the ground she noticed several large barrels full of wine, meaning she was most likely in the dining area.

Sure enough when she paused to listen she could hear the laughter and drunken swears of Ferret's men. With a sharp hiss she grabbed the handle of her katana and slowly drew it. The deadly steel came to life with flame and the aura of ensuing death was thick enough to choke on. It covered the princess in its wicked glory and when she entered the dining area, she noticed a few of the bandits shiver in fear to her delight.

"Well hello there boys," Annabel said with a sickly sweet purr, smiling malevolently at the thick stench of terror. "I do hope I'm not intruding."

At the opposite end was a bald man in his forties, his double chin giving him away as a man who indulged in the pleasantries of life far more than needed. His crisp grey suit stood out amongst the other rabble, meaning he was the one in charge. "And who the bloody hell are you to intrude on my magnificent operation?"

"Your despair, Ferret." The last words were spat out of her mouth like venom and with a snarl she swung her sword in an arc. The wave of magical fire ignited the alcohol stained tables, setting many of the bandits alight. They fell to the ground with screams of agony, trying desperately to snuff out the flames. Those who had survived rose to their feet within seconds, drawing their weapons in an attempt to slay their new, much more dangerous foe.

But Annabel was far too quick. Glancing over her shoulder briefly she spun her katana's scabbard to block the crude cleaver of one, the rusty metal meeting the perfectly crafted steel. "Weak." She turned on her heel and cut him open, Scarlet Flame's cruel blade ripping through his armour like scrolls of parchment.

A bullet grazed her cheek, a near miss. Growling in anger Annabel raised her hand and cast a fireball at the bandit who nearly took her out. The spell set him ablaze and he dropped his weapon with a scream. She rolled towards it, picking it up and scoffing. It was an old iron flintlock pistol, making it only good for a single shot at a time. Not the most effective weapon for her, but it would do for now until she could procure a much more suitable firearm. 'Damn. Was hoping for something that would be more reliable in a fight. Oh well.'

Having holstered the pistol she stalked across the dining hall, taking a moment to enjoy her handiwork. The charred corpses of at least a dozen men lay on the dirty floor, still smoking, and she let out a soft groan of desire. Fourteen men lied dead because of her and she liked it. She was no stranger to death, having killed before, but something about taking another's life in combat was much more thrilling than simple murder. It was better than the finest of wine, better than sleeping with Elliot.

A heavy metal door blocked her way and she tapped the outside of it with her katana. "Your men are dead, Ferret. And if you don't open this bloody door, you'll join them." She had no intention of letting him live; he was far too dangerous of a man to be left alive and not worth much as a possible ally. It was merely a ruse to get him to open up.

"It's open!" came the panicked cry from within. Sure enough, when Annabel spun the handle it opened with a slow creak. Sitting by himself in front of a small fire was Nigel Ferret, and he was shaking as the princess drew closer to him.

Her katana was ready to spill his blood and he put his hands up in surrender. "I surrender. Please, don't kill me! I wish for you to entertain a possible proposal."

"You have nothing to offer me, Ferret," the princess spat with a snarl. "It's over."

"That is objectively devoid of merit!" Ferret protested. "I happen to have on my person a substantial amount of currency. Let me live and the money is yours."

"Interesting proposition, I must admit," Annabel quipped. "However, there is a slight flaw with it."

"Oh?" Ferret's eyebrows rose.

Annabel's smile grew wicked and in one deft movement she slit his throat with her sword. "What's to stop me from killing you and taking it anyway?" Oh how she loved the look of shock and horror in the criminal mastermind's eyes as blood poured out of the nasty slash. He raised both hands to his slit throat in an attempt to stop the crimson tide, but still it flowed through his fat meaty fingers and onto the floor. He tried to say something only for it to come out a strangled gurgle and he took two steps before collapsing. His blood formed a sickly red pool around his body and the princess sneered in murderous triumph. "Long live the queen."

Using her foot to roll over his corpse, Annabel opened up one of the pockets in his light grey jacket and found the man wasn't lying; Ferret did have quite a bit of gold on his person. One hundred thousand pieces, to be exact. 'Disappointing. You should have known I wasn't going to let you live. For you to think otherwise, you're a bigger fool than I initially expected.'

Having carefully filled her coffers to the brim with gold and pocketing his golden pistol, she left his body behind and started to leave the hideout. Her adrenaline was slowly wearing off and she sheathed her katana, letting it dangle from her belt. It was done. The Ferret gang was destroyed and Ferret himself was dead. Not to mention she was rather well rewarded for her efforts. The gold would be a nice addition to the royal treasury, though she had to be careful as to how she deposited such a grand sum. Too much at once and the royal account, Hobson, would start to get suspicious as to where the funds were coming from. She didn't want everything coming back to her if she could avoid it. The more discreet she did it, the better.

However, there was another option. Royalty was no stranger to riches; it would be very easy for her to make up a story about how a wealthy member of society wished to donate some gold to help fund the kingdom's military. The soldiers themselves wouldn't question it, though there was the possibility that Logan would be curious as to who would make such a generous offer. If he did, he would start to question the kingdom's nobles until he found out the answer. However, if he did that, there was another possibility. The nobles would grow concerned about the king's questioning and start to think that he was losing his grip on reality. It would spread through their ranks and garner even more support for the princess. 'Ah, how nice it is to be consistently on the winning side. You thought you backed me into a corner, but I think you'll find I'm not so easily cornered, dearest brother.'

Annabel paused as she passed the bodies of the slain men, noticing one of them was still twitching ever so slightly. He was just barely alive but still on the brink of death. With her lip curled she stalked over to the charred body and made sure to stomp as hard she could on his outreached hand, twisting her heel to break the bones. The scream he let out was pure music to her ears, her Will lines growing bright red, and she let her hand come to life with the furious orange flames. 'Die already.'

Within seconds of her flames devouring the flesh of his face his screams stopped. Annabel scoffed and let her magic die, giving the corpse an extra kick for good measure. 'That was even easier than expected. By Skorm, those books about Scarlet Flame were no exaggeration; this sword really is that powerful. And now it's wielded by a Hero for the first time in centuries. With it, I will reshape Albion into the perfected image it was meant to be. Not this pathetic and weak imitation that my brother has reduced the kingdom to. Our mother would be so disappointed with your weakness, Logan.'

Yes, that was it. She was doing her land a favour by usurping the throne. The longer Logan remained in his position as king, the further Albion would be dragged through the mud. By taking it for herself, she was saving it from its inevitable downfall; her mother had fought to unite Albion under her banner and the princess knew that she would have to do what was necessary to make sure that it didn't fall. If that meant ridding her kingdom of her brother, then so be it. She would make Albion stronger than Logan could even dream.

Such a pity that he wouldn't live to see Albion enter its new era of domination and power. If it wasn't Annabel's sword piercing his heart that killed him, it would be the bullets of her soldiers publicly executing him to send a message. A message that showed what fate beheld those who would dare to oppose their new queen. Some will undoubtedly die due to their own stupidity and inability to see her as the rightful ruler, but it was a small price to pay for the security and strength of the land. It was better to get them out of the way in the long run. Their blind ignorance would be their downfall and she would not let it poison her kingdom.

Annabel climbed up the ladder and was about to leave the hideout behind when she ran into a familiar face. "Why, hello Reaver. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The king of thieves flashed his dashing and dangerous smile, pulling a bottle of whisky from inside his jacket. "Nothing, my dangerous little sweet. I was merely enjoying a nice moonlit stroll. Not often I get to enjoy the simpler things in life. What are you doing here, if I may ask?"

"Taking care of some nasty business," Annabel replied, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to the hideout. "No doubt you might have seen some use for them in the future, but they were an obstacle. An obstacle I took the liberty of removing. Mind if I join you for a drink?"

"Why yes." Reaver handed her the bottle after he took a long pull, his dark eyes glimmering. "So, friends of yours?"

"No. We had only just met and didn't have time to get properly acquainted," the princess purred. She took a healthy chug, eyes slightly watering at the harshness of the drink. Whisky wasn't a beverage she was accustomed to, having mostly drunk wine or some form of ale. It was unusual at first, but once her tongue and throat got used to the burn it was rather pleasant. Much more potent than anything she ever had previously. She made a show of slowly removing her lips from the bottle before handing it back to him, not bothering to hide her chuckle at the slow groan of want Reaver let out.

"Enjoying something?" she asked with a sultry wink.

"You are one naughty little minx," Reaver remarked. "Oh, it will be a pleasure to ravage you."

"Now, now." The princess smirked. "You know our deal. First, you have to make Elliot experience an unfortunate accident that costs him his life. Then I will gladly offer myself to you." Had it been three weeks ago, she would have never even considered sleeping with the man. But now that he had opened her eyes, Annabel could see that he was so much more than Elliot could ever offer her. Charming, fluent in the arts, and dangerous like her. He understood that she was not some delicate maiden who needed protection from everything but rather a deadly inferno that could destroy an army.

"Of course, my dear," Reaver purred. "But that doesn't mean the two of us cannot have a little fun before it happens. My associate won't be in Albion for another few days. Journeys from Bloodstone can take time."

"Perhaps a sample of what you're going to get could hold you over for a bit?" Annabel offered, stepping closer to him with a shake of her hips. She smirked when she saw his gaze flicker down to her exposed thighs, licking his lips.

"Those look rather fetching on you," he murmured, wrapping one arm around her and resting his hand on her backside, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Though I imagine you'll look better without them."

"Kiss me," the princess whispered with a hiss.

Reaver's other hand wove into her long brown hair and he pulled her in for a chaste kiss. Annabel let out a soft groan of surprise, not used to this sort of forcefulness. Another thing she liked more about Reaver; he knew how to be rough. Elliot was far too soft.

And when she kissed him back, she could see the faint reflection of a demon in his darkened eyes.

A/N: And there we have it. Again, sorry it took so long to get out. But here we are and it's finally done. See you all again soon hopefully, since I want to get back on track.

A Lovestruck A2#5371