A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 18. Not sure why I've dragged this out as long as I have, but I don't feel like waiting any longer. It is time for coup to happen and everything to fall down around Logan. And some smut, of course. Because I'm a naughty bastard.

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.

*Revolution*

The next few days had passed without incident, but as Reaver took his daily morning stroll to the markets, he could taste the tension in the air. The soldiers were more guarded than normal, the common rabble gossiping amongst themselves in hushed whispers. The normally bustling marketplace was much quieter than Reaver could ever remember in recent memory, a sign that things were about to boil over. 'There's a much heavier guard presence in the city, too. More soldiers than Logan normally had patrolling the streets. I wonder if his majesty himself is finally cracking under the strain of all the paranoia.'

He twirled his cane in his hands, the long walking stick slightly bent on one side. It had saved his life only a day ago, when some uppity little indigents had the audacity to break into his manor and disrupt a private party. The woman who shot at him was by no means ugly and unattractive; he imagined that she was lightning under the bed sheets and even extended an invitation for her to elope to his quarters. So bloody ungrateful, these damn peasants were. Of course Reaver would have thoroughly disposed of her once he had enough fun toying with her, but still. Dying at the end of what would have been her most intense orgasm was a way many people would have enjoyed to go, especially if it was Reaver giving that pleasure.

The businessman tapped it in stride, a cold smile plastered on his face as he noticed the common rabble shying away from him. His tall imposing figure was enough to intimidate the masses, but as usual there were always one or two who tried to be bold and stand in his way. He responded by giving them a proper whack or two with his cane, humming a merry tune as the cries of the beaten filled his ears.

Spotting the Cow and Corset tavern in the distance, his throat yearned for the simple taste of fine wine sliding down it. Even though he considered himself well above the peasants that called this market their home, that didn't mean he didn't still enjoy the sight of a good old fashioned bar fight. If anything, it reminded him of the pleasant times he ruled over the port of Bloodstone. Oh how it seemed like it was only yesterday. He could remember the last brawl he got to witness in the pirate city fondly; after a very exhausting night bedding several prostitutes, he found himself in dire need of some proper refreshment and eloped to the local tavern for some drink and maybe extra pleasurable company. Instead, the Hero of Skill found himself on the sidelines cheering drunkenly as two heavily intoxicated men threw fists, glasses, and even bar stools at each other. Queen Sparrow never truly appreciated the fights, saying they were barbaric and for savages. Like she had any room to talk, considering her own upbringing in a bloody gypsy camp. By Skorm they were such an eyesore on the land. When Reaver bought the property in Millfields to make it the resort for the wealthy, he had forced the gypsy inhabitants off their land. He couldn't have them soiling the wealthiest neighbourhood in Albion with their filth. Last he heard, they had fled into the forests behind Millfields. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Reaver entered the tavern and inside, the mood was considerably less tense. He instinctively ducked under a glass as it flew towards his face, slamming on the tavern door and shattering behind him. His smirk merely grew at the sight of four or five men throwing punches at each other, a bard playing a merry upbeat tune on his lute to keep the fight going. The Hero of Skill easily navigated through the mass of bodies, wrinkling his nose at the odour of ale and sweat. 'Good heavens, haven't any of these bloody fools ever heard of a bath? They ought to try bathing more regularly.'

As he weaved his way through to the bar, one drunk made the mistake of falling into him. Reaver sighed and shoved him into the centre of the brawl, tipping his hat as the poor bastard was knocked unconscious and then chucked out of the pub much to the approval of the crowd. Everyone with a drink in their hands raised it with a loud roar, Reaver rolling his eyes and taking a seat on the cleanest stool he could find. "Bloody peasants..."

The barkeep was a handsome young lad, with a line of stubble dusting his chin. "Welcome, Master Reaver. I do apologise for the commotion. Bloody imbeciles don't know when to take their mess outdoors. What may I get for you today?"

"Do you have any bottles of Any Port in a Storm?" Reaver asked silkily, drumming his fingers on the bar. "It has been quite the trying day and I am in dire need of a refreshing beverage to enjoy." He suspected that there would be a few more busy days in the not so far future; when Annabel took the throne, his talents at making gold would be needed more than ever to ensure that Albion's economy was stable.

Logan's policies as of late kept the country on the verge of an economic disaster; high taxation and a very low guard budget had made goods very difficult to come by. Luckily, Reaver was a master at keeping the gold flowing. If Annabel was smart, she would appoint him as the head of all financial decisions, for he could make money better than anyone in Albion. He was a king amongst pirates for other reasons besides being a master marksman.

"Of course, sir. We recently received several crates full," the bartender replied. "How many bottles would you like?"

"Two, please," Reaver requested. 'A full shipment coming in means that Oakfield is managing to keep itself alive. After all these years, I must say I'm impressed that miserable little hamlet survived once Sparrow left it behind.'

The late queen had owned a rather luxurious manor in the farming community and she was considered the most important citizen in town. However, after she had defeated Lord Lucien and started her conquest of Albion, she left Oakfield and soon found herself in Bowerstone Castle, formerly known as Castle Fairfax.

The barkeep handed him two clean dark blue bottles and the Hero of Skill decided to be a little generous, tossing him a few extra gold coins. "Tatty bye."

Stuffing both bottles into his coat he left the tavern behind, tipping his hat at a pretty little wench staring longingly at him. He suppressed a chuckle as she spilt her mug of ale all over her dress, letting out a dramatic sigh on his way out. 'Such a pity. I prefer the finer delicacies over a common whore.'

If he weren't intent on claiming Annabel as his, he might have been tempted to bed the wench. But alas, he had a taste of something much better. He wasn't going to soil himself by stooping to their level. Though he would admit, that servant the princess bedded was rather lovely to look at. Maybe Annabel would feel amourous enough to share. More partners to shag was a lot more thrilling. He'd know, having partaken in many orgies over the years.

The Hero of Skill looked up at Bowerstone Castle and heard the distant growl of thunder. The scent of rain was on the wind and he breathed it in. There was a storm brewing, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the princess revealed her plot to her brother. But by the time he could even express how much it hurt him, it would be too late. The throne was as good as hers.

'Just what are you waiting for, my dear?'

Annabel was the first to wake up to her delight, head still nestled in between Candace's soft breasts. The servant was still sound asleep, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, and the princess began to feel a little bit greedy. She hadn't gotten off properly since her night away with Reaver and that burning primal urge was persistent to say the least. But with her preferred partner still hours away in Bowerstone and Candace asleep underneath her, she would have to wait a little while longer.

The brunette woman hissed in annoyance and pressed her body against the sleeping maid's, sitting up to pull her bra over her head, her own breasts springing free. With a deviant smirk she rubbed the soft mounds of flesh up against Candace's own, biting her lip to try not to moan as her nipples grazed her partner's.

Annabel planted a few soft kisses along her neck, gently biting to see if she would stir. The servant squirmed a little, eyelids fluttering a few times, but she did not wake up. The princess's eyes gleamed with hunger and she kissed her roughly, grinding her body against Candace's. The servant's eyes flashed open and she let out a surprised moan into the princess's mouth.

Annabel pulled her lips off of her partner's, licking at the thin trail of saliva that still connected their mouths. "Well good morning, darling~. Did you rest well?"

Candace nodded weakly, her cheeks flushed a deep red. She looked around the princess's room, the realisation that it wasn't just a blissful dream finally sinking in. Once her senses started to kick in, she went to grab a handful of Annabel's breasts. However the princess batted her hand away, wagging her finger in disapproval. "Not so fast, my sweet. You can only use your mouth. Are we clear?"

Candace whimpered and the princess hissed before biting harshly on her collarbone, leaving a bite mark. "I can't hear you."

"Y-yes~!" The servant let out a whine, but she stopped when the princess started to shimmy out of her panties, taking in the full sight of her nude body. Her gaze filled with hunger and a desire to touch her, but she made no move; she knew better than to disobey the princess's orders.

Annabel shifted up to position her wet womanhood directly above Candace's mouth, her thighs on either side of her head. "Lick." Her face crimson, the servant obeyed her princess's wishes and a small pink tongue flicked out in preparation to please her. No doubt this would probably be the first time she had ever done this sort of thing, but she was lucky to have Annabel to guide her in the right direction.

Candace's tongue lightly scraped against her clit and the princess moaned at the contact. She wove her hands into the servant's luscious hair to hold her in place, rocking her hips back and forth. "O-oh! Right there..."

The maid's innocent stare was slightly spoiled by the way her tongue was languidly swirling around Annabel's wetness, lightly scraping her teeth against her button. The brunet princess moaned and grinded down onto her face, forcing the girl to move her tongue to the sensitive folds aching to be touched. Candace mewled from between her legs but didn't stop, her tongue poking and prodding at Annabel's wetness. She gripped the princess's buttocks to keep her steady, enjoying the taste of her nectar. Annabel debated on whether to give her a smack for using her hands, but she soon found herself grateful for the young woman keeping her steady. Her climax was much sooner than she expected, perhaps a side effect of being aroused for too long without any prior release.

Somehow, having an orgasm while straddling another woman's face as well as being in a secret relationship made it all the sweeter. Annabel's hips jerked up, feeling her womb clench in heat. When she recovered, the princess slid off of her face and captured Candace's lips, tasting herself in the process. Their tongues swirled around each other briefly before the princess broke apart, wiping away at the trail of saliva. "My my, you're rather skilled with that little tongue of yours, my sweet. Are you sure you've never slept with anyone?"

Candace nodded silently and the princess gave her another kiss, only to groan when she heard frantic knocking on her door. "My princess! There's a mob outside the castle!"

'Oh for...' Annabel snarled in frustration and reluctantly got off of her partner, putting on some clothes to be at least somewhat dressed. Grabbing her katana, the princess glanced back at the servant and winked. "Don't worry, darling. I'm not through with you just yet. Be a little patient, would you? And make haste in getting dressed; things are about to change around these parts very, very soon."

The servant nodded wordlessly, getting out of bed to look for her own clothes before the steward began to wonder where she had run off to. She could get away with missing a few hours every now and then, but a whole day was sure to rouse his suspicion. If the steward ever laid a hand on Candace, though, Annabel would rip him apart and set his entrails ablaze like she did to his predecessor. 'No one will harm a hair on that pretty head of yours. If they do, then they'll know what my wrath is capable of.'

So far the princess hadn't heard anyone murmur a single complaint about the new castle steward and that was good news. She was in no mood to kill another steward after just being able to replace Alastair. Damn brutes had no idea how hard it was to find good staff.

Annabel opened the door to her quarters to see a rather worried soldier. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we need you. The people are clamouring for King Logan to show himself and step down. What are your orders?"

'Already? Damn. I was hoping to maybe wait another week, but it appears as though I underestimated just how frustrated the people have become with my brother's rule. No matter.' Annabel's gaze was cold as she gripped her katana's scabbard, pushing past the soldier. "Ready the men. This is no mere rebellion. This is a revolution. We have to protect our kingdom at all costs. If a few have to die for the country to survive, then so be it."

The soldier snapped off a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. In the meantime, where's my brother?" she asked. "Is he in the War Room?"

"Yes. But he asked not to be disturbed. I assume he wants time to hold counsel with the general before making a decision."

"We're out of time. He has to make it now."

Annabel didn't bother to wait around to hear the soldier's response. The revolution had already begun.

When Annabel entered the War Room, to her surprise King Logan was alone. The king was pacing back and forth, sweating nervously as the noise only got louder. He looked up in alarm when he saw her arrive, only to relax. "Annabel. I'm not sure if you heard, but there's a bloody revolution going on outside. We need to act fast; otherwise, Albion is doomed."

"I agree." Annabel nodded curtly. "It's time the real threat is dealt with once and for all."

King Logan turned his back, preparing to face the crowd, but he froze in his steps when the princess drew her katana from its scabbard. The blade's fires didn't come to life, shock and betrayal filling his weary gaze as he looked at the one person he believed would never stab him in the back now taking arms against him. "Y-you...?"

"Sorry, brother, but Albion has gotten tired of you. It's nothing personal; the time has come for a Hero to sit on the throne, just as our mother did long ago." Annabel smiled coldly, taking up a stance to challenge her brother for the throne of Albion. Everything depended on this moment. If she failed now, all her hard work would have been in vain. 'I won't fail. Albion needs me, not this pathetic persona of a tyrant.'

Logan's cold eyes held the faintest hint of a plea in them as he reached for the handle of his cutlass, one gloved hand gripping it tight. "Annabel...please. I beg of you. Don't do this to me."

"Oh dear brother, don't become sentimental on me now. Albion isn't yours anymore. Accept it as fate now."

The king sighed and slowly drew his sword, holding it in front of him. "You don't understand what I have had to sacrifice for the greater good. I will see Albion destroyed before I surrender her."

"Hmph. Then let's see how much you can handle." Annabel leapt at him first, spinning as her katana cut through the air in brutal fashions. Two pieces of razor sharp steel collided and the king's gaze was a storm of hurt and betrayal. Revealing her plot was all part of her strategy; she knew that Logan had long since had symptoms of severe post traumatic stress disorder from whatever he encountered in the deserts surrounding Aurora. Now, with his paranoid mind shattering from the realisation that she was willing to turn on him, this fight would be over in a matter of minutes.

Logan met every one of her blows with fluid counters of her own, forcing her to raise her scabbard to act as a shield. The princess lashed out with it and her brother's cutlass slipped underneath her guard to yank it out of her hand. It spun into a corner of the War Room and she hissed in annoyance. Mentally broken or not, her brother was formidable with a sword in hand, his skill being one of the few reasons why no one had dared to try and challenge him since General Turner's failed coup.

Annabel had to rethink her strategy if she wanted to win. Raw power wasn't going to solve everything and she couldn't afford to be arrogant. She was a Hero, not some defenceless beggar. Thinking she wouldn't have to use the power she was gifted with was nothing but stupidity and arrogance. She was far too proud to let that be her downfall.

Her brother had only seen her use her power to threaten others to obey the order given to them. He hadn't seen her use magic in battle. Nor did he know just what her sword was capable of, having not seen her duel with Walter a few weeks ago. She was holding back to an extent, not wanting to reveal all the cards in her hand just yet.

Her katana drew first blood with a near miss that just nicked the side of Logan's pale face. Blood trickled down his cheek and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, already showing signs of fatigue.

His movements became more sluggish as their duel progressed, the princess landing a few more blows on him. Annabel's blouse was ruffled in places she didn't think was possible to scuff up, but apart from that she didn't have much to show for being wounded. Logan was panting breathlessly and several cuts on his body were beginning to slow him down. His sword hung at his side and he spat out a mouthful of blood in defiance.

"You're a damn fool," he said with a snarl, blocking a pair of quick slashes from his sister. "This only weakens us! We have to be strong, no matter the sacrifices! I will do everything in my power to keep Albion safe!"

"Fantastic display, brother," Annabel returned with a sneer. "Yet from where I'm standing, you look finished. Just admit it. Your reign is at an end."

"Never..."

"Then you'll burn, just as the rest of them have."

Annabel swung her katana and the blade came to life with its cursed flames, cutting cleanly through Logan's cutlass. The sword shattered and one of the shards embedded in his thigh, forcing him to his knees. The revolution would be a success now. The throne was as good as hers. But first, she did have to come clean, if only for the priceless reaction she was going to get.

The remains of King Logan's cutlass fell to the ground with a clatter, the king accepting his defeat and his gaunt eyes stared at the razor sharp katana pointed at his throat. "I've always expected betrayal after General Turner turned on me. But not ever from you, sister. Albion doesn't belong to you."

Annabel smiled wickedly and laughed coldly. "Oh brother, spare me the disappointing speech. You had to know this was coming. Who do you think killed that pig Nigel Ferret? Or even orchestrated my 'beloved' Elliot's untimely death?"

Shock filled his worn gaze and she pressed the tip of her sword in to draw the tiniest amount of blood. "How does it feel, Logan? Knowing that everything you built will be torn down before your very eyes? That the people who once swore themselves to you now clamour for me to be queen? Does it fill you with despair? Anger? Fear?"

The twisted black and red wings of a demon sprung out of her back, red Will lines etching themselves across her body. She laughed when she saw the fear begin to take over her brother, raising her sword over her head. "I'll take your silence as acceptance. Now you will see how a Hero rules her land."

"Annabel...please, don't," Logan begged. "The threat out there is far worse than you believe! If we aren't ready...everything will end! It will bring death, despair, and the end to our way of life! The choices I made, I did them to protect Albion! If a few had to suffer, it was to build an army. If a few had to die, it was to save a country!"

"Save your pleading for the trial. You can beg for your life then." Annabel let out a hiss and slammed the hilt of her sword into Logan's jaw, the former king being knocked unconscious. She'd have guards take him to the castle's prison but for now, there was a city in rebellion that needed to know they had a government again.

The princess circled the map of Albion that sat square in the War Room, lazily dragging her fingers around the smooth surface. "Albion...is mine. And nothing...not even the darkness Logan mentioned...will stop me."

A/N: Am I too naughty for my own good? Yes. I really am. I don't know why, but smut has been coming easier to me a lot recently. Kind of strange. Maybe just the horny speaking. Oh well.