A/N: Yeah, I've got absolutely zero excuse for lateness. Apart from needing a new laptop. Still, it will be good to actually wrap this up.

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.

*Reunion*

Annabel stalked around the large map in her castle's war room, her head held high as her commanders stood and saluted. "At ease, gentlemen." The young brunette sat down in the nearest chair and a few seconds later two servants came in, their arms laden with beverages to make the meeting with her generals more amicable.

She helped herself to a goblet of wine and took a slow sip, placing it down next to her. Her officers received their own preferred beverages and the queen sighed. "I suppose you all are wondering why I requested your presence in the capital. Captain Finn, if you could be so kind as to forward your findings with everyone else."

"Yes, my queen." Captain Ben Finn, the executive officer of the Swift Brigade, stood and saluted. "Per your orders, General Swift sent scouts from the Brom Brigade to the deserts surrounding Aurora. Only one came back alive and was too traumatised to tell us anything of great importance. It was deemed necessary to send in another pair of scouts to find whatever was responsible for the first squad's deaths. They came back in mostly one piece, reporting that they had discovered an ancient temple in the deserts housing vile monstrosities. They match the descriptions of the creatures that attacked Aurora and we decided that the region was too dangerous to risk further expeditions. The order was given to barricade the area and reinforcements are inbound with munitions and supplies. Sadly, this has drawn good men away from the capital and we need to replenish the ranks of the Brom Brigade. Their unit saw the most casualties, with a death count of thirty-two."

Thirty-two total fatalities from one unit alone. The queen tried to not show her displeasure at having thrown good men to their deaths. 'We needed to know what was in the area. Their deaths will not be in vain. We will win this war against the Darkness.' The paperwork would be a nightmare, though. Thirty-two copies of the same letter, written out to the families of those killed in action explaining why their son, brother, father, or husband would not be returning home.

"I don't suppose you have any good news to tell me?" Annabel hid her grimace behind a sip of wine.

"Lieutenant Ash has already begun recruiting new soldiers," Captain Finn replied. "I expect they shall be ready to serve within the month. Ever since the populace has been made aware of the threat to our world, many have been willing to bare their fangs in defence of Albion."

"When faced with the prospect of certain death, every alternative is a better option." The queen swirled her goblet around with a hum. "In the minds of the people, it's better to die free than live as a slave. Had my brother been still sitting on the throne, Albion would be destroyed."

She finished her wine and set the empty goblet aside. "Captain Radcliffe, I want you to send as many warships as you can spare to Aurora. Make no mistake, as valuable as the capital is, Aurora will be the first city struck. The Darkness has routinely attacked them for the past five years and I don't want to be caught unprepared."

"Yes, ma'am!" A tall redhaired officer with a neatly trimmed beard saluted.

"General Swift, you and Captain Finn are needed in the capital. If there is an attack, there will be a second wave. I want as many capable men here as we can without sending the entire kingdom into a panic and evacuate the citizens to Brightwall. I highly doubt the Darkness will attempt to make their way that far north, but just to be safe, set mortars along the town wall. Captain Evans, that is your responsibility. See it done, soldier."

"Madam." The broad-shouldered officer saluted in return. Brightwall was once a garrison for the Albion Royal Army, used during the unification of Albion fifty years ago. It would take very little to turn the town into a fortress, thanks to its strategic position. The only way through to the town was via the monorail or if the invaders already called Mistpeak their home. Brightwall sat on a mountain, with only one way in and out and easily defendable. If things came to the worst, the order could be given to destroy the bridge leading into the town, but it was doubtful. Heavy mortar fire would be enough to keep any demonic spawn at bay.

'Why wait?' The queen frowned. 'Any smart opponent would have attacked us before we could even hope to build an army. Or does the Darkness still think my brother is sitting on the throne?' "Gentlemen, return to your duties. I have work to do." Her commanders would be busy, too. They had men to train, munitions to distribute, and a shipyard to build in Oakfield. Absorbing Oakfield and Westcliff back under the crown's rule did leave her forces a little more stretched out than she'd have liked, but apart from the recon team sent to the desert, there had been no signs of active aggression from their enemy.

'What exactly are you planning?'

Thirty minutes after the meeting with her commanders the queen was forced to attend another meeting, this one more dreary than the first. Annabel let out an annoyed sigh, slumping in her throne as Hobson rattled on and on about something that she honestly couldn't care less about. From what she was able to pick up, a new head gardener was required to tend to the castle gardens. The young queen closed her eyes and wished she could stuff him into a cannon she heard her financial advisor say the hiring process would take two months at the least. 'And here I thought being the queen would be rewarding. Bloody paperwork.'

"Hobson." She pinched her brow and counted to ten. "I swear, if you try and pretend that hiring a bloody gardener during a time of war is important business that must take precedent, as opposed to building a new shipyard, I will personally stuff you into a cannon and fire it at the remains of the Spire."

"W-well..." Hobson trailed off, looking around awkwardly for someone to help him out with the grouchy young woman glaring at him. "It is important that the castle always maintain its image..."

A guard stationed inside the throne room shook his head in disapproval.

Birds chittered outside.

Annabel felt herself age in real time.

The brunette woman looked at her advisor with a scarily calm expression and raised a hand, fire igniting in her palm. "Five."

Hobson ran out as fast as his stubby little legs could carry them, the soldiers laughing at his retreating back. The queen's hand lowered once he had left, the fires dying down and she rolled her eyes. "I really was expecting this job to be a lot less irritating. Bloody politics. I wish I could be rid of them." She stood up with a yawn, stretching her arms. Hobson's voice had sapped all of her energy and vigor away and she could feel the urge for a nap.

Preferably while using someone else as a pillow.

"We'll leave you be, your majesty," the soldier closest to her said. "Get some rest; if you don't have your health, then Hero or not, we'll be doomed."

Annabel didn't bother trying to start an argument, for it was pointless. All the power in the world would do no good if she wasn't taking proper care of her own wellbeing. "I shall. If any ambassadors or town officials come, please tell them I'm not to be disturbed. I trust you to use whatever force you deem necessary to make them go away should they prove to be stubborn."

She doubted she'd wake up to gunshots, but she couldn't afford to underestimate a persistent politician. Even if she was queen, they still had their ways of making life bothersome. If any of them found out about her affairs with Reaver or worse, the deals she cut with Connor's balverine pack, she'd have to dedicate a frustrating amount of time dismissing the claims, time that would take her focus away from dealing with the oncoming attack.

The queen left the throne room and retired to her quarters for the day. She was exhausted, not just physically but mentally too. 'I'm beginning to think the crown has some sort of curse on it that saps away your energy. I haven't felt so tired in ages. The weight of the world is not a burden to wish on anyone.' She caught a glance at her reflection in the full mirror that sat in the corner of the royal suite and grimaced.

Annabel was someone who usually prided herself on her appearance. She always strove to look her best no matter the occasion. Now, she could safely say she did not look her best. Dark rings of exhaustion circled around dull dark green eyes that had completely lost their spark. Her hair was little more than a tangled mess, poorly maintained in no way anyone sober would allow. 'Bloody hell. I need something to give me a spark. A fight, a rough roll in the hay, anything. Anything but damn meetings. I'm a Hero, not a ruddy politician.'

All the wine she drank earlier had done nothing but give her a headache. The queen undressed with a groan and flopped face first onto her bed, not even bothering to drag the covers over her. Annabel closed her eyes and fell into a light doze, not even stirring when someone snuck into her quarters. Everything seemed so distant, yet the young queen was fully woken up by the feeling of soft hands rubbing between her shoulders. Far too soft to be Reaver and the lips that trailed down her spine made her purr in content. "O-oh..."

"I heard you were stressed, your majesty," Candace whispered, continuing to knead her back to work out the stiff knots. The queen hissed into her pillow, biting it as the other woman loosened her up. "Thought I would offer my services~."

Annabel moaned in response, more than content to let the servant do her work. The queen squirmed in delight, stretching like a human sized cat and purring. Candace's soft hands stopped their kneading and she rolled to the side to let the queen experience the marvels of having a good massage. "Is that better, your majesty?"

"Much," Annabel answered, rolling onto her back. "Now I just need a month-long nap." How long had it been since she set aside any time for herself? Between court meetings, sneaking to Reaver's secret parties, and making preparations for a grueling war, she had little time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of her labor.

'Yes, a good sleep shall do nicely.'

Upon waking up, Annabel felt much more refreshed than she had in a long time. Aches that she didn't know someone her age could have had all but vanished and a quick glance to her right told her that Candace was still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her sleeping, 'companion', the queen eased herself out of bed with a muffled yawn, tossing the thick blanket over the sleeping servant. She wasn't much in the mood to deal with any ambassadors or other time-consuming meetings; the last few had been nothing but a bunch of sad fat old men complaining about the amount of soldiers sent to police the streets to keep the panic at a minimum. No amount of bribes tossed her way had done anything to change her decision and she refused to let them try and dictate her kingdom.

There had been threats made, angry rants that left them breathless and red in the face. But Annabel reminded them icily that she would not let any enemy, foreign or domestic, threaten her kingdom and asked if they wanted to see the same fate as her dear deceased brother. The fools needed a reminder as to who was the one who sat on the throne. They had left immediately after that, too frightened to even say anything to her let alone face her wrath. As amusing as it was to see politicians run away with their tails between their legs like scolded pups, it was irritating to have to do it seemingly every day.

Annabel knew that the average citizen of Albion wasn't by any means intelligent, but this was ridiculous. If they wanted so few soldiers to be around when the Darkness came, then they were better off dead. 'If only there was a way to get rid of them all at once.'

She pulled on a set of casual attire consisting of a white blouse and purple skirt with black leggings worn underneath, feeling no need to stuff herself into an uncomfortable set of clothes that had been clearly designed for a woman with no bosom whatsoever. Stuffing her chest into such tight articles of clothing was a nightmare. 'Not my fault I actually developed breasts.'

And it certainly wasn't her fault that she could use her chest as a place to balance a goblet of wine.

The young queen slipped into a pair of comfortable boots and brushed her hair before heading out to get some fresh air. Even if she was the reigning monarch, it wouldn't do her any good to spend all of her time cooped up in the castle like some weak maiden. 'What kind of Hero spends their entire time brooding in their castle? A weak one.' Annabel sauntered down the stairs and even if she didn't wear the crown, everyone who worked in the castle respected her authority. Salutes and bows came from all angles and the queen hid her smile to herself.

'You see, brother?' She mocked Logan's memory. 'You never commanded this kind of loyalty from your subjects. Anyone here would be willing to die for me. Your name has been tarnished; history will only remember you as a pathetic tyrant.' Some would call her cruel for it, but she found it hilarious that Logan had four years to flail about pathetically, whereas she had built up an armada in less than a year.

Logan was doomed from the start. It was a pity that he had to die, but Annabel couldn't let any loose ends be left untied and she needed to send a message. The people demanded someone take the fall for all of Albion's problems and as the former ruler, Logan became the perfect scapegoat and it wasn't undeserved. His policies were not only barbaric but incredibly inefficient, keeping the kingdom barely a hair's breadth away from economic disaster. Only through quick action was Annabel able to steer her kingdom away from financial ruin, and in doing so she was proving even more that Logan was not a good king. The people celebrated his death.

'As they should. Logan did nothing but drag everyone down to his level, and I shall take us to heights we've only dreamed of.'

If she wanted something done properly, she'd have to do it herself.

The queen reached the castle library, and she felt something tugging at her from a bookcase to her left. It called out to her in hushed whispers, urging her to look. 'It's...calling...me...'

In a trance-like state she stumbled over to urges and Annabel placed her hand on the bookcase, listening to the sweet words whispered by its secrets. 'What are you?'

The bookcases parted open at her touch, revealing a staircase that led into the bowels of the castle. The passage was dark and even a Hero's eyes could not penetrate the inky depths. The whispers calling out to Annabel grew louder and the queen stepped into the passage. A small flame ignited in her hand and even though it was paltry, it was enough for her to see where she was going.

Thick cobwebs ensnared her and the queen batted them away with a scoff, straining her eyes to see further ahead. It was as if she were descending into the Void itself, the air becoming heavy with a powerful presence. It was dark, crushing her with a weight that nearly forced her to her knees. The brunette stumbled, catching herself along the ice-cold stone walls of the passageway and feeling an emotion she hadn't felt in years.

Fear.

It was pure terror and yet her limbs still moved forward in spite of it. Her whole body shook, and eventually the stairs leveled out into a chamber. Unused candles stood in their alcoves and the queen slowly made her way in, the whispers now growing into voices she could hear clearly.

"Wear me, wear me...and the world will bend to your will.."

Annabel looked around the chamber, the flame in her hand flickering. "Who's there!? Show yourself or I'll smite you!"

Her croak was barely audible and she shuddered at the sudden gust of cold wind that sent a shiver up her spine.

"Wear me, and Gods shall envy your power."

Annabel stumbled across the chamber and her foot kicked something small. Confusion temporarily offset her fear and she knelt down to see the object she had hit was a small porcelain mask with red markings on it. "What...what are you...?"

The mask seemed to pulse and throb in her hands to the rhythm of a heart beating. Dark red energy crackled around it and the voice that came from it spoke louder.

"Wear me...and you shall be immortal."

"Im...mortal?"

The queen of Albion stared at the mask in her hands, feeling it urge for her to wear it. 'If I become immortal...I can rule for eternity. No one would dare rise up against me, the Eternal Queen.'

Annabel raised the mask up and put it on her face.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the rush of power flooded her veins, forcing her to bend into impossible positions and to her horror she realized she couldn't take it off. 'NO!'

A desperate scream left her lips as she tugged and tugged away at it in vain attempts to rid herself of it. But whatever the mask was, it was too much, even for a Hero. Annabel was forced onto her knees and the last thing she heard before losing consciousness was victorious laughter.

"Yes, YES! At last! I have a new vessel! HAHAHAHAHA!"

This new body was remarkable in every sense of the word. It had been all too easy to rope her in with illusions of grandeur and power, promising sweet nothings to a mortal who was nothing more than a tool. She had skill with magic, but more importantly, she also sat on the seat of power throughout the land.

The girl was dead, her soul cast into the fiery pits of the Void to burn alongside her brethren. Just like her pathetically weak ancestor, she was far too weak to resist the temptations offered to her. Pitiful. Heroes were supposed to be the mightiest of them all, and yet they were nothing but ants compared to what he was capable of. Now he could enact vengeance against the nation that mocked him.

Albion would burn.

A beautifully ornate longsword appeared in his vessel's hands and behind the mask, a cruel smile formed. He knew that double edged blade anywhere. It was the Sword of Aeons, the legendary weapon he once wielded so many eons ago. With the power of the Archons in hand, Albion and its people were as good as dead. The flesh and blood of mortals would serve as food for his pets.

The vessel's mouth opened, her voice now warped and distorted from the power of the mask. "I have...returned. After an eternity sealed away..."

"Jack of Blades...is back."

A/N: Yep, Annabel is now dead. Whatever she was is now gone and it is Jack fully in control. Finale is coming soon.

-Kagerou#9718