Disclaimer: I own nothing Fable, not the Princess/Hero/Queen, Albion, or the wonderfully delightful Reaver. It's just for fun, and we do so love fun. =P

Author's Note: Yay! Fourth chapter, and the story's starting to get somewhere! Reaver's made his grand appearance, and he'll be making another one in this chapter. At least we get to have some fun before the rather dark parts to come. To Savana-Night, I thankee for your support, and rest assured, I will keep updating... Hopefully with more expediency than I did with the last chapter. And to those who are reading my story, but not bothering to comment, I invite you to give me some input as to how I'm doing so far, as well as thanking you for reading my story in the first place. On with the show!

The Princess awoke with a somewhat bitter taste in her mouth. While her dreams had been wonderful at first, having a chance to experience the wonderful presence of her mother and whatnot, they had taken a decidedly sour turn towards the end. She pondered for a moment, wondering if the same man whom her mother had spoken of with such scorn could truly be the same fairly youthful man she had seen only yesterday. It didn't seem likely, as if it were him he would be showing deffinate signs of aging, but a doubt remained. Her mother had never told her much of the Hero of Skill, save for a few comments here and there. None of those comments, however, were what one would call 'nice', which was one of many reasons why the Princess couldn't help but think that the Reaver she had seen was the same one her mother had known. Shaking her head, she banished the thoughts and stood to get dressed. The clothes she had worn the previous day were out of the question, and never before had she been so glad she'd remembered to pack an extra outfit. Sighing as she slipped into her trousers, the Princess thought longing of the days when she could wear skirts. Obviously, one does not wear a skirt into battle, as you're likely to give someone a glimpse of something they shouldn't see, hence the trousers.

Once dressed, (it was quite a lovely ensemble, all things considered. A deep red blouse with a black vest and matching black trousers.), she left the room to see if Walter had gotten up. She peeked her head inside of his room, but found it was empty save for a note.

I went back to our new friends' place. Wanted to discuss a few things with them.

Sorry I didn't wait, but you slept in.

-Walter

Smiling, she folded the note up and put it in her pocket. Behind her, she could hear Burd snuffling around in the room. "Well, my friend," She said, turning to face her ever-faithful companion, "It seems we're on our own for now. Let's go have a look around town; see if anyone needs our help, eh boy?" His ears perked up at this, and he wagged his tail before running in a small circle. She smiled at him. If ever someone were to say animals weren't intelligent, they'd need only see Burd to prove them wrong... Most times, anyways. With a click of her tongue, the Princess told Burd to follow, which he did without a moments hesitation. Well, it would have been more accurate to say that she was following him, as he continually bounded ahead a few paces and stopped to make sure she was still there. It was ever so endearing.

After having a nice rest, a few drinks, and a good meal, the 'whole Hero business', as the Princess had called it, seemed much easier. It would have been much nicer, mind you, if it had involved less killing. Nearly everything she had to do in order to gain popularity among the people involved killing something. From mercenaries, to Hobbes, wolves, Hollow Men, and even demonic, fire-breathing chicken in the case of that one rather odd request. By the end of it all, she was thoroughly exhausted, but knew even then that the day was far from over. Trudging back to the Rebels' hide-away, the Princess could only wonder what task awaited her when she arrived. The stink of the sewers that led to their base was still as bad as the first day, (she had been hoping that it would smell a little less worse upon her second entry, but such was not the case), but she was distracted by this when she heard Major Swift call her over.

"Ah, the Rebel Princess!" He called with a chuckle, "I was just about to toddle off to the castle to report to your brother."

"Don't call him that; he's no brother of mine." She reminded him with a slight frown. She really had to get people out of the habit of pointing out the fact that she was indeed related to that murderer.

"Of course, my apologies. In any case, I was also going to see if any of the old guard is still loyal. See if we can't round us up a few more troops. We'll certainly be needing them for what you're planning."

The Princess nodded. "That is all too true. Well, good luck to you then. I hope you're successful, Major."

"I'll see you later then. Tally-ho." He replied with a nod and a small smile, waving his pipe in farewell. Smiling is response, she waved goodbye before continuing on towards where Page, Walter, and, in all probability, Ben waited. Before she even entered the room, she could hear Ben talking excitedly. Rolling her eyes as she caught snippets of what he was saying, (some hyped-up story about his exploits in battle, from the sounds of things), the Princess could only wonder what Page must have thought of his antics.

"I'm tellin' you! I downed three Hollow Men with one shot!" He attempted to convince the dark-skinned woman.

"I've never trusted soldiers; I'm not about to start now." Came the reply of an irritated sort.

"Walter, you tell her!" He pleaded, looking over at the older man. Walter shook his head.

"I'm staying out of this." Walter said, holding his hands up in some form of defense.

"Look, there she is. Just ask her."

"Give it a rest." Page snapped, clearly losing her patience. She turned to face the Princess, her scowl turning into the slightest hint of a smile. "You're a pretty decent person for royalty, I must admit. People are starting to believe in you." The Princess couldn't help but grin. It was the first positive words she had heard the other woman utter.

"What? You didn't think I was up to snuff?" The Princess inquired playfully, grin still in place, "I told you I'd do it."

"Indeed you did. But we've got bigger problems than the one's you've faced before." Page replied, turning serious again. "Reaver. For too long has he oppressed Bowerstone Industrial, but we've never had the opportunity nor the means to get back at him... Until now, that is." Again, she smiled, even if only slightly.

"We know he hosts these sort of... 'Secret Society' parties every week. We haven't the foggiest what goes on in them, but we do know what the guests look like." Walter continued for Page, "A few of the Resistance members broke into Reaver's mansion, but they never came out again."

"We're going to go in there and find them." Page finished, "You'll need to wear this. It's full outfit worn by the people going to these parties. We nicked it off some of the people who were leaving Reaver's manor." She handed the Princess the folded up outfit. Eyeing it warily, she dreaded to see what it would look like on her. Reaver was more than famous for his and his company's rather... Promiscuous nature. Still, if there was only one way in... She looked up at Page.

"When do we leave?" The Princess had learned long ago that business meant business, and that there was no point asking a lot of questions. She'd find out the answers eventually, in any case.

"As soon as possible; there's another party tonight, and we don't want to be late." Page turned to Walter and Ben, "Now if you two could leave so we can get changed, that'd be great."

"I could stay here and... Make sure no one spies on you?" Ben attempted, sheepish smile already in place.

"Out." Page said firmly, pointing towards the door. Sighing, Ben walked rather dejectedly out, muttering something that the Princess didn't catch. Chuckling, she took her clothing and walked behind a stack of crates. Upon unfolding the outfit, she found that it really wasn't all that bad, save for the low-cut neck. It would be an understatement to say she was a little relieved that it wasn't as bad she she'd imagined it. Removing her current clothing, she slipped into the rather elaborate masquerade outfit, muttering about how utterly stupid powdered wigs were. The final product was rather stuffy, (the Princess had never been one for elaborate outfits), and more than a little uncomfortable. She would have to shoot Reaver somewhere uncomfortable, not that there was a comfortable spot to get shot in, in order to get back for having to wear such a dreadful outfit. She wondered if she only felt the outfit was terrible because her only reason for wearing it was to infiltrate Reaver's little party. If he hadn't been involved in the equation, maybe she wouldn't hate it so.

Scowling, the Princess dispelled the thoughts, as they clearly weren't getting her anywhere. Readjusting a few crooked parts of the outfit and setting the ridiculous hat over the even more ridiculous wig, she walked out from behind the crate. Page grinned crookedly at her.

"It suits you. I suppose that's because you're royalty, though." She commented, same grin still in place. The Princess couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but rolled her eyes all the same.

"C'mon, let's go then." The Princess muttered, gesturing for Page to lead the way.

They managed to make it to Milifields without too much trouble, (they were only jumped by bandtis twice. There certainly was a downside to wearing such extravagant clothing when out and about), and now both Page and the Princess stood outside of the gates that led to Reaver's Mansion. Even just looking through the gates, the Princess was disgusted by how grandoise it all was. The bloody egomaniac even had a statue of himself situated so that everyone whom entered his property would see it. If they weren't trying to be discreet, she would have shot the statue right in the smug grin it wore. She did, however, have to admit that it was a good likeness. It must have taken forever to make. Still, the skill in which it was made didn't make it any less revolting. Scoffing, she continued following her companion. She almost looked around for Burd, but caught herself, remembering that she had told him to wait at the Rebel's headquarters. It wouldn't do any good disguising herself if she was recognized for the dog that was always at her side.

"Are you ready for this?" Page inquired, breaking the Princess out of her thoughts.

"Yes, I think." She replied before smiling slightly, "Let's go have a party then, shall we?"

The two of them chuckled slightly and pushed open the large doors and walked into enemy territory. They were only in the first room of the house, and the Princess could see at least six people scattered about, passed out from too much liquor by the smell of things. Confetti and empty bottles were also scattered about the place. 'It looks like Reaver throws quite the party...' The Princess mused. After noticing all of the party-related things laying about, her attention was finally drawn to a rather ugly man clearing his throat.

"We're here for the party." Page said, a bit nervously in the Princess' mind. She would have scolded her for seemingly like she was out of place, but now wasn't the time nor the place. All that aside, the man seemed like it was more an annoyance than anything.

"Bit late, aren't you?" He questioned, frowning slightly, "Nevermind that. Just tell me the password an' we can forget all about it." This caused Page and the Princess to exchange looks. They should have anticipated something like this, but how could they? Walter had even said they had no idea what went on inside these little soirees. But a password? That wasn't particularly good news.

"Er, yes... The password..." Page began uncertainly. The thought of scolding her for sounding out of place didn't even cross the Princess' mind this time, as she would have likely said the same thing.

"Nah, I'm just pullin' your leg. Come on in." The man chuckled, although alarm bells were still going off in the Princess' mind, "My name's Barry Hatch, by the way." And with that, he motioned for them to follow. Exchanging another glance, the two women reluctantly followed Barry, unsure of what to expect. The Princess worried that if the other rebels had been caught that Reaver would expect them to come and try to save the day. If that was the case, then it could almost be guaranteed that he would spring a trap; a trap that they could very well be walking into right now. Perhaps the password was a way of telling the actual guests apart from the rebels trying to rescue their comrades. So many questions, none of which could be answered until they got to where this man was leading them. It was more than a little nerve-racking.

"You should have showed up earlier," Barry said casually, "All the alchohol's been drank up by the lot of these lightweights. But I'm sure Master Reaver will be glad to have a few more conscious people around for the final ceremony." The Princess raised an eyebrow. Ceremony? What was this, some kind of cult gathering? "There is still some cooking cherry left in the kitchen, if you're desperate."

"No, thank you." The Princess murmured. Though she was nervous, her voice didn't betray her and show it. She had learned early on in life that royalty was expected to 'put on a face'. Luckily, all of her years of practice were paying off beautifully.

"No? Don't blame you. Never touch the stuff myself... Except in the mornings." He replied with a chuckle. They continued walking in relative silence. When the silence was broken, though, both of the women wished it hadn't been. "If you'd like, I could sort you out a nice orgy." Barry said, as non-chalantly as if he were asking if he could get them something to eat. The Princess was about to say something, but Page beat her to it.

"Just keep walking, you strange little man." She spat through grit teeth. Every time that man opened his mouth, the more foul the Princess found him to be. Such a repulsive person... It was no wonder he worked for Reaver. Shaking her head, she decided to ignore anything else the man said Luckily, he didn't say much before they reached their apparent destination. It was at that point he asked them to disarm, and also at that point that Page made a rather idiotic mistake... That is, if Reaver didn't already know they were coming.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need these. I'm here for some friends."

"Oh! So you're the noble rebels, then? Well, why didn't you say so?" Barry said, with a friendly smile that still seemed a little too sinister for her tastes, "I'm an opressed proletarian myself; we're practically comrades! Now, if you'll go through these doors you can sneak right past the party." The alarm bells in the Princess' mind grew louder. This was the same door he was leading them to in any case. However, there was little else they could do at that point... Although, I suppose they could kill the weasley little man and have a look-see around for themselves, but that would completely defeat the purpose of them infiltrating the place. But, again, only mattered if Reaver didn't expect them, and the Princess was beginning to believe they were very expected.

On the other side of the doors was a cage, and in the cage was the man who had nearly gotten them shot when they had walked into the Rebel Headquarters. Nerves still on edge, the Princess followed Page and ran up to the cage containing Kidd.

"Kidd!" Page exclaimed, "Where are the others?"

"All dead. It's a trap; Reaver knew you were coming." He replied, "You have to get out of here!" He exclaimed. The cage began ascending suddenly, and the Princess cursed.

"I knew this was going to happen! I'll get him out of there." She exclaimed, grabbing the bars of the cage and holding on as best she could. She was immensely frustrated when she discovered that the door was on the other side of the cage. With a groan, she made to start moving around the cage, but it jarred to a stop so suddenly that it shook the Princess from where she clung. Luckily, she saved herself any embarassment by landing on her feet, as opposed to her bottom. Her knees bent as she landed, so as to lessen the impact, but all the same a wave of pain shot up them. It was minor, however, and not nearly enough to slow her down.

"My, my, my! More busy little bees here to steal Reaver's honey!" The Princess winced as that all too familiar voice carried through the spacious room. Her eyes raised to see the source of the voice as well as a handful of party-goers standing on a platform raised high above where she and Page now stood. Reaver continued his little speech. "So industrious! So commited! So bloody annoying. You people really should learn how to just enjoy life."

"I'll enjoy killing you; does that count?" Page snapped back at him. This caused a smirk to form on Reaver's face as he reguarded the two women glaring up at him. The Princess' scowl deepened when she noted that it was the same damned smirk his statue outside was sporting.

"Well aren't you full of spunk?" Reaver replied, speaking to Page, "Quite the little heroine. I bet you're lightning under the bedsheets." He commented, taking obvious delight in how Page sputtered out of indignation and rage.

"Calm down. Don't let him get to you." The Princess whispered to the other woman. She didn't appear to take heed of her words, however, and still appeared as anger as ever, though the sputtering had stopped. As this was going on, Reaver adressed his guests.

"And now, as promised, the evening's piece de la resistance. Another piece of the resistance." He chuckled at his little joke. Again, he reguarded Page and the Princess before speaking. "Do try to put on a good show for my guests. I'd be terribly displeased if I went through all this trouble for nothing."

"You expect us to entertain you? We're here to kill you, not preform for you!" Page shouted up at him, causing him to chuckle once more.

"It's just a game, my little sweet." Reaver replied with a rather patronizing tone. If looks could kill, Page would have certainly killed Reaver twenty times over by now. Anger radiated from her in way unimaginable as she fixed Reaver with the harshest of glares.

And with that, the game began...

After fighting Hobbes, Hollow Men, Mercenaries, and these peculiar things called 'Sand Furies', the Princess and Page returned to the main room once again. This time, however, it seemed that Reaver was getting fed up with their victory streak, and he let them know how annoyed he was by dropping the 'cheerful' act.

"You holier-than-thou idealists, always thinking in the simplist, most binary of ways. It's almost sickening how rudimentary your views on things are." His change in attitude was almost startling, but as quickly as it had came, it was gone, and he was back to the morbidly cheerful person he always was, "But I quite agree; this game has gotten a bit tiresome, hasn't it? My guests are beginning to grow a bit... Restless." In the background, the Princess noted that Barry Hatch was up there, attempting to flirt with one of the party guests if her assumptions were correct. Her eyes were drawn away from that little scene, however, when the pointer on the wheel began moving once more. When it stopped, the situation got worse.

The woman Barry had been attempting to smooth-talk went through a transformation. It was quick, and the Princess had barely registered it had happened until Barry was screaming for Reaver to help him and trying to pry his hand free from the grip of the woman.

"Balverines?" The Princess exclaimed, a look of horror on her face as she watched the monster descend upon Barry. It was grossly terrible, and yet she couldn't look away, as she saw the creature tear chuncks of flesh from the man. Feeling her gorge rise, she averted her eyes in favor of checking how many bullets she had left. Though it only took a second, it was a second too long, as when she looked up it was just in time to see one of the guests, now turned Balverine, swinging a clawed hand towards her. It caught her on the waist, and sent her spinning to the ground. Pain nearly blinded her as she landed on the fresh wound, but she still managed to draw her pistol and fire multiple times at the abomination that was advancing on her. Much to her horror, the bullets did little to slow the beast down, let alone stop it. Unsure of what else to do, she threw a weak fireball at it. Luckily for her, it was distracted long enough for her to stand and ready herself for the onslaught. It didn't take long for the battle to get into full swing.

Never before had she had to rely on magic so heavily, but when three different Balverines had surrounded her and prepared to gut her with their fearsome claws, she'd had little other choice. The room smelled like burnt hair and flesh before too long, but it did little to stop her. When she had the opportunity, she would attempt to shoot the creatures before they got too close, but they had this pesky habit of jumping unexpectedly, and landing right beside her in an instant. By the time the last Balverine had been done away with, both the Princess' and Page's outfits were torn and covered in blood, both theirs and the monsters'. Breathing heavily, the Princess fixed Page with a frown.

"I'm not letting you bring me to any more parties." She muttered, putting her pistol back in it's resting place. After a very brief chuckle, they turned to Reaver, eager to be done with this nonesense. Reaver 'tsk'ed.

"Well, you've made me look like quite the poor host. Quite rude of you to dispose of all my guests." He scolded them, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Now it's your turn, Reaver." Page growled, raising her pistol. In the fraction of a second before she fired, the Princess was a little worried when she noticed that Reaver was doing nothing to move, nor had his smile disappeared. When Page did fire, she found out why. It was so fast she could barely see it, but see it she did. As the bullet sped towards him, Reaver lifted his cane and effortlessly knocked it away, his smirk growning all the broader as the bullet fell to the ground beside Page's feet. Normally, she would have been above such things, but all the same her mouth fell open in disbelief. It took her a moment, but the Princess eventually found the words she was looking for.

"What are you?" She asked, looking down at the bullet he had so easily deflected and then back up at him. His only reply was to smirk down at her, twinkling eyes examining her behind his mask.

"My dear girls, why don't we put an end to all this nonsense? The three of could retire to my quarters and have a nice private party." Reaver smirk once again grew. For the first time since she'd donned it, the Princess was glad for the mask, (the hat and wig had long since fallen off during the battles), as it hid the blush that crept on to her cheeks. It was not because she was flattered, but simply because that was the first time somone had directed such a comment towards her. Page, however, seemed to only get angry at the suggestion.

"Do you have any idea who this is?" She asked, although she answered it herself, "This is Logan's sister! She's the bloody Princess!" Taking this as her cue, the Princess ripped off the mask and glared up at Reaver with her own face. She prayed that there was no sign of that blush left, as she certainly didn't need that deviant getting the wrong idea.

"The king's sister, a bona fide Hero?" He seemed to muse this for a moment, eyes fixed upon the deffiant Princess, "Well, I wouldn't dream of coming between sbilings... Well, there was that one time..." He chuckled to himself as he turned to walk away. "Anyways, good luck with this whole 'revolution' lark. Perhaps I'll see you later." As he said this, he glanced over his shoulder, casting one last look at the Princess. "Tatty-bye!"

"Wait!" Page shouted, firing once more. The shot missed Reaver, hitting the frame of the door her was walking through, and then he was gone. "Bloody coward..." Page hissed after he was gone. Suddenly, they heard the cage rattle above them, and they were reminded of the captive Kidd.

"Hey! Would someone mind getting me down now?"

Outside of Reaver's manor, the Princess, Page, and Kidd discovered that dawn had began. Though she didn't admit it, after all they had just been through, she was surprised they were even still around to see the dawn. Downing a health potion, and passing one to Page, she admired the sight of it. Sunrise and sunset were always so beautiful, the way the oranges, reds, and pinks all blended together, forming one of the most lovely colours in the process. She only looked away when Page spoke.

"I never thought I'd find myself on the same side as royalty, but you're a far cry from being anything like your brother." Page smiled, "You can count on the Bowerstone Resistance to fight beside you... So long as you promise to change things when you've got your crown. Poverty, child labour, people living in fear... You have to make it all stop."

"That's a promise I can make without hesitation." The Princess replied with a lopsided grin, "You can count on me." She extended her hand towards the dark-skinned woman. Page accepted the hand that was offered to her, and as she shook it, she spoke once more.

"Then you can count on us, as well." The happiness that was shared between then was short lived, as a voice broke the relative silence.

"Everyone's attendance is required at the castle! The king is about to make an adress! Please, make your way to the castle!" The town crier shouted. The Princess forwned. Logan hadn't been big on public adresses latetly. In fact, he'd wanted as little to do with his subjects as possible. Why, then, was he making one now?

"This can't be good..." Page murmured before turning back to face the Princess, "Could you go? I'd do it myself but, well... There's a reason we stay in the sewers." The Princess nodded. She had a bad feeling about all this, but knew, as the one who was going to take the throne, that it was her duty to see to such matters. So, bracing herself for the worst, the Princess bid Page and Kidd farewell and went back to the sanctuary to get a fresh pair of clothing. She knew she had to be quick, but if she showed up at the castle covered in blood she'd likely stand out in a crowd. If Logan caught her now, all of her work would be for nothing.