A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter seventeen. Has it really been this long since this got posted? Seems like it happened only just yesterday. Oh how the time flies by when you're enjoying yourself. Here we go

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.

*Knowledge*

Having left Candace in her chambers to let the girl rest after the rather thorough shagging the princess gave her, Annabel found herself again in the castle's library, desperately searching the tall bookcases for any volumes on the land of Samarkand. As expansive as the library was, it fell rather flat on any sort of information about the land. One book that was about the Temple of Rising Sun, a secluded mountain temple where warrior monks trained with their deadly katanas, did briefly catch her eye, but a quick look through its dusty pages didn't contain a damn thing about a sword that could absorb magic like Alexander's had.

With a frustrated hiss the princess flung it over her shoulder, hearing it thump against one of the other bookcases. 'Dammit! What the hell is that!? I need to know!'

She took a breath to regain her composure, clenching and unclenching her fist. 'No, it does no good to get myself this paranoid over it. Not when I'm so damn close to being able to overthrow my brother. I can taste it on the wind. The time where I take my rightful seat on the thrown is drawing nearer and nearer with each day. I've kept my mind together for this long and I refuse to let anything derail my path now. Anything or anyone that gets in my damn way will burn.'

Annabel's eyes raked over the polished shelves until she found a tome that may have been the answer she was looking for after all. It was a tome dedicated to the exploits and feats of the legendary warrior monk Zuna Daichi, one of the most renowned heroes of Eastern Samarkand. Rumours and conjectures regarding her tale were something of popular myth in her homeland, but not in Albion. However, the princess did know that the weapon the woman used, the Daichi katana, was said to be the only sword that could rival Scarlet Flame in power. It sounded exactly like the kind of weapon that could possibly absorb spells.

'Is it possible? Could that boy have gotten his hands on the Daichi katana? If so...then this might be a bigger problem than I thought.' Annabel promptly snapped the book shut and waltzed out of the library with it; she would read more of it later to make sure she had come to the right conclusion but for now, she was, rather annoyingly, feeling a little bit restless. Ruthlessly shagging Candace after she just cleared a bloody mine full of hobbes had left her quite worn out.

'Maybe that is why I'm feeling particularly irritable about this.' The princess tapped her lips, frowning. 'Perhaps a good night's rest is all I need in order to think about this with a clearer head.'

'Besides, that girl's bosom looks like it would be quite comfortable to rest my head on.' A devious little smirk graced her lips at the thought of laying her head on top of Candace's warm breasts. The girl would probably swoon with excitement at the idea of the princess using her as a pillow. After such a rough shag, the servant would be only too happy to let Annabel without even having to beg.

With her mood considerably improved, Annabel entered her quarters to see Candace had indeed fallen asleep. She was still completely nude and had chosen to not bother with pulling a cover over herself. By Skorm, her legs were still spread open. Annabel's mouth watered at the sight of her exposed core, just begging to be graced with the princess's touch, and she found herself wrestling with the temptation to claim her prize again.

Still, she found the strength to resist doing so and undressed, tossing her clothes into a neat pile on the floor and leaving her in her underwear. She slowly crawled on top of the sleeping servant, dragging the covers over both of them. Annabel rested her head on Candace's breasts and closed her eyes, thinking of all the delicious ways she could wake her up come morning. 'Hmm...maybe I'll snag a taste of her after all.'

'And why does it feel as though someone is watching me?'

Reaver grinned as he watched Annabel from the castle garden. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the princess would find herself struggling to contain her carnal desires after experiencing one night with him. He was simply too much for one person to handle, though he would give her credit for trying. It wasn't her fault that she had some annoying little prat who couldn't satisfy her following her around like a lovesick puppy. No, that he suspected was more of one of Logan's many moves to try and set her up with suitable partners. Little did the king know that all he succeeded in doing by forcing Elliot onto her was make her much more deviant than anyone would originally believe. Claiming that adorable servant was proof of that.

The Hero of Skill took a sip of wine from his glass and dusted off the pollen that had gathered on his jacket. Blasted flowers. They were pretty to look at but by Skorm they were a nuisance at times. He'd have to get one of his own servants to clean it when he made it back to Millfields. 'Damn. I do hate when a perfectly good coat gets soiled like this. Hopefully those bloody peasants don't cause too much of a fuss when I take it to them for cleaning. I'm in no mood to waste ammunition on my staff.' He liked to think that despite his supposed harsh working policies he wasn't unfair. If his workers did their jobs like he asked them to, they'd go home to their families with a bit of extra gold lining their pockets. If they annoyed him by purposely messing up or Skorm forbid try and revolt, he'd make an example out of them by shooting them in whatever spot he fancied.

Nothing was funnier than watching a homeless person fall into the canals of Bowerstone Industrial after getting shot in the foot. It still brought him tears of mirth to this day. Maybe he ought to consider making it into an official sport. He'd love to be able to stand around his factory shooting peasants and the homeless with a glass of fine wine in his other hand but something told him that the king wouldn't be as amused as he and the princess would be. A pity. He was sure he could find a way to make money off of it if he thought about it hard enough. But alas, that required way too much effort than he was willing to put towards it at the moment. It was much more thrilling to watch the princess sleep with another woman.

It also gave Reaver some new ideas to try out with her. Despite the way he conquered her during their first night, he wasn't by any means strictly a dominant in the bedroom. He found that giving and receiving were equally as thrilling and rewarding. Witnessing how rough Annabel was with that poor girl did give him a few nice mental images. Maybe her straddling him with his hands tied to the bed frame. He was a known sexual deviant for a reason.

Reaver was dragged out of his lewd thoughts by something small and sharp pecking his foot. Whatever it was, it was sharp enough to pierce tough leather and he grimaced, glaring down to see the feathery culprit. A lone chicken that had managed to escape the new castle steward's wrath was pecking at some pieces of dried corn near his feet, clucking away without any idea that the man it just pecked was thinking of ways to murder it.

The Pirate King sighed and placed his glass down on the windowsill before drawing his favoured pistol, not even really looking at it as he shot the blasted thing. The chicken flew into the air with a loud squawk of pain and for good measure Reaver shot it again. "Blasted birds."

It landed about twenty meters away in a heap of feathers and blood, the pirate snorting in disgust as he slid his pistol back into his white coat. His mood was rather soured now and he could feel the urge to shoot someone or something come back to demand he give into those urges. Or bed the princess in her own chambers. Yes, that sounded positively delightful. It was better and more legal than going into Bowerstone and shooting every beggar that asked him for a gold coin.

He stole a glance into her quarters to see if the gunshots had disturbed her rest, but she remained fast asleep on her favourite servant's bosom. Hmm. Maybe he'd go get some nice target practice in after all. He was sure that if anyone complained, Annabel's influence would be enough to get the charges dropped without much hassle. Especially since she had woven herself into the hearts of the general populace. It was almost time for her to strike. They were so close now to usurping Logan's rule, the people willing to bleed for Annabel's cause. By the Gods, it could happen this week. So what was she waiting for?

Perhaps she was waiting for the country's economy to be more stable before striking? In that case it wouldn't be long. Revenue from the reopening of Pepperpot Mine was already flowing into the treasury and a few generous donations from the kingdom's nobles had certainly helped stabilize Albion's economy. Logan's policies had kept the kingdom on the verge of collapsing, but the princess's quick thinking and cunning had guaranteed that collapse would not happen under her rule. She hadn't even taken the throne from her brother yet and already she had made sure Albion would be safe. He had to hand it to her; her patience was remarkable.

'I see what you've done, my darling.' Reaver's lips curved into a smirk and he left the garden to go find some suitable targets to practice with. 'Very clever. Opening up a mine, charging admission fees for the academy, as well as a bill that charges the citizens for every child they have, you've guaranteed stability for at least a few years. And to think you did this in a matter of a few months. If I had known sooner that this is what you were capable of, I'd have given you that little push so much earlier. You little minx.'

Part of him was shivering with anticipation. Surely the king had to be aware of the people swaying their loyalty to his sister, right? How could he not see it? It was so painfully obvious that Logan was driving himself mad not being able to discover who the true mastermind. He made the assumption of the princess being behind everything, yet the real culprit was there by his side. It was not the first time Reaver had influenced the history of the kingdom and it would most certainly not be the last. He would live to see many, many more historical moments, but he doubted any of them would be able to be as truly devastating as Annabel stripping the crown from Logan's brow before plunging a sword deep into his gullet.

The walk down from Bowerstone Castle to the city's industrial sector was about as dreary as it normally was. Reaver curled his lip at the stench of the poor and uncivilised, wishing there was a law against smelling like a pig's backside. 'Disgusting peasants. Have they never heard of bathing once or twice? They make enough gold working.'

One of the city's beggars ran up to him as he approached. The filthy man was wearing the most tattered robes the Hero of Skill had ever seen, his face caked with soot and Skorm knows what else. "P-please, Master Reaver! Take mercy on a poor soul!"

"Mercy? I can grant you that." Reaver smirked wickedly and drew his pistol. The beggar's hopeful gaze became one full of fear at the sight of the decorated firearm, slowly hobbling back.

"N-no, please! I just need one gold coin to feed my family!" he begged.

"You claim that, but you have no ring on." Reaver merely pointed his pistol at him and fired. A single shot rang out and the beggar howled in pain as his middle and ring fingers were torn off his hand. He clutched his bleeding hand and Reaver snorted in disdain, shoving the wounded beggar into the canals. "Have a nice swim."

The pirate noticed one of the city's guards stiffen at the sight but he did not dare leave his post to attempt to lecture him. They did not want to have to answer to Annabel; they were too afraid of her wrath to even think about passing a remark to Reaver about his activities. The Hero of Skill was grateful that the soldiers both feared and respected the princess so much they were willing to turn a blind eye to any sort of mischief that he fancied. 'Good. They are smart enough to know it is better to just look away than suffer an agonizing death at the hands of Annabel's magic.' He had of course heard of what happened to the solder that crossed her and he doubted any of them wanted to meet the same end.

In fact, he was confident that getting torn to shreds by balverines was a more desirable death than being burned alive. He had seen the former firsthand and knew it was unpleasant. Still, it was fantastic entertainment for his guests that came to his secret society parties. Guests with otherworldly powers, the ability to change into balverines at will. Any of those bloody irritating flies from the Bowerstone Resistance who managed to survive the first round of the Wheel of Misfortune found themselves facing the terror of being ripped apart. It was quite nice to watch, but terribly tedious to clean up. Oh well, there was no such thing as fun without consequence.

Reaver spun his pistol on his finger before dropping it into his holster, flashing a smug smile to the soldier as he passed him on his way through the sector. "Fine day, is it not?"

"Indeed it is, sir," the young man said stiffly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I see you are enjoying yourself. Please do not let me keep you from continuing to do so."

He knew his place. How quaint. The Pirate King continued on his path, not even glancing back at a pair of women who swooned when he walked past them. Now that he had gotten to sample just what kind of sexual partner Annabel could be, no other woman's touch would arouse him in the same way she did. Every single hidden desire he kept close to his heart, she touched. Just how she begged for him to take her was enough to make him not want to sleep with anyone other than her for the time being. All she needed was a little more experience with him before she would know exactly what he wanted to do to her at any given time. A time that, like the coup, Reaver could not wait for.

When he arrived at his factory, he immediately went to his office. He trusted the foreman in charge would be more than able to keep the peasants working in line; the pirate was always quick to remind the slimy bastard that he did have a whip on his person for a reason.

The Hero opened the door to his office and raised an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn't alone. A single assassin dressed entirely in black was waiting for him. He had discarded the usual bandanna that obscured his face to let ruffled brown hair stand out and he smiled at him, a glass of brandy in his hand. "Well, hello there, Reaver. It has certainly been a long time since we had the pleasure of a face to face meeting, hasn't it?"

"Mr. Blank." Reaver nodded curtly and sat behind his desk, folding his hands and accepting a drink from the master assassin. "To what do I owe this pleasure? A mere business call, perhaps? Or something more intimate?" He smirked at that.

"Neither." Mr Blank placed his glass down. "More of a warning. That boy who assisted the princess in her heroic endeavour, what do you know of him?"

"Alexander? He's a fighter, that's for sure," Reaver replied, now slightly curious. What could be so grand of a threat that even The Society was worried? "And I know he is one of the figureheads for the Bowerstone's newest movement regarding the poor. Why, has there been something I missed?"

"Yes." Mr. Blank nodded gravely. "Reaver...that child...is the only remaining heir of the legendary Zuna Daichi. Someone who I know from one of my predecessors is not someone to be trifled with or taken lightly."

"Zuna? Now there's a name I haven't heard from in a very long time." Reaver raised an eyebrow and sipped from his glass. "You mind telling me more?"

"Of course." Mr. Blank sat down across from him and placed his glass down. "As you know, the Daichi Dynasty was short lived. However, we within The Society have been keeping up to date with the clan's history. It appears as though Zuna had an illegitimate child. It was kept very secretive for years, but the bloodline flourished, keeping their heritage a secret for centuries. It is our belief that the katana itself has been passed down to the current heir. That young man may not appear to be much, but as you and I both know, appearances are deceiving."

"So what do you want me to do about it? I'm a simple businessman now." Reaver snorted.

"And yet you are sleeping with the princess. Don't look so surprised, Reaver. You should know that in my business, knowledge is power." Mr. Blank smirked. "You don't need to do more than lift a finger. All you need to do is tell your little pet who he is and let the rest play out. Whether or not she ends the bloodline, it's not your choice. It's hers."

Mr. Blank eyed the pistol that Reaver kept on his hip and smiled. "How long has it been since you stole that from those poor bastards in Westcliff?"

"About thirty years," the Hero of Skill answered with a grin. "I didn't steal it. I won it quite fairly, if I recall correctly."

"You shot everyone there and claimed it as a reward."

"They didn't specify who or what the targets were. That's their own bloody fault for not being descriptive enough."

"Whatever you tell yourself to drink yourself into a stupor easier." The assassin rolled his eyes, but there was mirth there. "I have to say, I can see why you enjoy your work here more than you did in Bloodstone. The atmosphere here is so much more vibrant, full of people nobody will notice went missing. The guards didn't even lift a finger when one of my men finished a contract right in front of their eyes."

"Nice to see you still don't know the meaning of being subtle."

"I snuck into your office without anyone noticing, didn't I?"

"Yes, but, as you may remember, an assassin sneaking into my office isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence." The dark haired man laughed at the slight reddening of Mr. Blank's cheeks. "My offer is still on the table, in case you feel like changing you mind."

"I prefer to keep our relationship strictly professional, thank you," the assassin declined. "We both have appearances to keep up and I have work to do. The princess never did say how she got wind of Nigel Ferret's gang, did she?"

"No, she didn't. I assumed she bullied someone into giving up the information." Reaver shrugged. It wasn't his business to know, nor did he care all that much. Ferret was a useful pawn in keeping the people living in fear and hating Logan, but he had long outlived his usefulness and like any tool, he was tossed aside. Such sacrifices had to be made in the grand scheme of Annabel's. He knew that and was sure Mr. Blank did too.

However, he still looked somewhat concerned. "She did. One of my own agents, who I sent in to investigate the Ferret gang to ensure they weren't violating our contract like I suspected. He comes back to inform me that the princess is holding in her hands one of the most dangerous weapons ever created and if both her and Alexander clash in battle...I can assure you, it will not be pretty. It is imperative that he joins her cause."

"And if he doesn't?" Reaver dared to ask.

"Then he dies. Simple as that." Mr. Blank shrugged. "I personally don't care how everything plays out. The only thing I'm interested in is making sure my organisation has all the business it needs to sustain itself for another five hundred years."

"So why tell me all of this? Why not knock on Annabel's door and tell her?"

"Because we don't want to give the current king a reason to track us all down and execute us like traitors. We cannot go into the castle at the moment. He has bolstered his troops by threefold since the tragic death of that sweet little noble who met a gruesome end in your factory."

Reaver snorted in laughter. Elliot's death was a work of art, not a bloody tragedy. The princess couldn't be more relieved to be free of him. "You say it like she regrets putting the contract on him in the first place."

"Every death we bring has far reaching consequences," Mr. Blank murmured. "It's why we pride ourselves on not getting involved in murders that are too personal. Makes for messy business and we don't like having that sort of nastiness knock on our door."

Reaver grimaced at the gentle rebuke. It stung like gentle ones always did, albeit a little more than it should have since he did know better. Getting personal was a sure way to bring problems that Annabel couldn't have foreseen. 'Damn. It might have been better for her to let Elliot live for a bit longer before killing him herself. This one is tricky to gauge properly. On one hand, it was messy. But on the other it lets her operate without him dogging her footsteps.'

Reaver poured another drink for the two of them and slid the glass over to the master of The Society. "Would you have let him live? Even if he was a great obstacle in the way of your biggest ambition?"

"I would, but only until he had truly outlived his usefulness," Mr. Blank replied earnestly. So nice to hear an honest murderer's words from time to time. Sending the occasional message back and forth across the seas was nothing compared to a face to face conversation. "After that, I would have killed him as he slept and placed the blame on someone else, not shove him headfirst into hazardous machinery. Though I do have to admit, it was rather creative to make it look like an accident rather than a clear murder. Nice work."

"Don't thank me. I was just the messenger." Reaver smirked. "Do you still require payment? I'm sure I can give you a very nice offer."

"No, Reaver."

"Oh dear, you're never any fun."

"I always consider myself to be on the job and you know I don't like to mix relationships with my work," the assassin deadpanned.

"How bold of you to assume that I want a relationship with you when I already have a scandal of one," Reaver countered, enjoying watching the blush grow bigger on Mr. Blank's face. "Dear me, did I strike a nerve?"

"No," Blank replied curtly. He grabbed his mask, downing his brandy before he put it on. Once it was over his face, gone was the man who was getting flustered by the pirate's teasing and in his place was the cold and heartless leader of The Society. "Remember my warning, Reaver. If that boy doesn't join the princess's side, things could turn nasty."

He left as quickly as he appeared, fitting for a master assassin. Reaver finished his drink before touching the gold coin on his desk. He spun it in the air, lazily catching it with his superior reflexes. "Hmm."

'If that boy is indeed the last living descendent of Zuna Daichi, then this carefully planned coup could become a lot more messy.' He would warn Annabel in due time, when they could be alone without raising suspicion. For now though, he would finish this bottle of brandy.

He didn't want to be sober when he had to go back out and deal with the bloody peasants.

A/N: Yeah...I was supposed to have this story done like two chapters ago. Oops I guess? Just too much content in Fable to not delve into it a little. When boredom hits, it hits. I also cut out a bit of smut because I genuinely did not feel like writing it. Activated my 'Fuck it, I'm lazy' option.

-Classiest#8332