Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Reaver watched his guests with a satisfied smirk. In his opinion, his latest Secret Society party had so far followed his plans for the night perfectly. The party started four hours ago and since then, his twenty or so guests drained nearly all of the booze. Half of the guests laid or sat passed out among his rooms, either on furniture or just the floor. Earlier in the night they had dined and danced and he so did love to dance.

Even now he still waltzed about his ballroom, this time with a young man a head shorter than him. Reaver thought him a fine lad with his striking blue eyes and combed back blond hair. The combination of booze and exertion from dancing tinted his dance partner’s cheeks pink, heightening his feminine look. The booze finally caught up to the man as he stumbled and Reaver caught him, lowly dipping him as he would a woman before pulling the man back onto his feet. In response, the lad just smiled and blinked in surprise. Three other couples danced around them, one of the women threw Reaver a look of admiration but he paid her no mind. He kept his attention focused solely on the prize in his arms.

Reaver knew this was the man’s first night at one of his parties and he partially regretted that this wasn’t one of his more…deviant parties. But the night was still young yet, and with what he had in mind to end the night with he might still get to fulfill some of his more carnal desires before morning. A rather loud moan drew his attention to the corner of the room where a couple seemed to have the same idea as him. He couldn’t see anything with the way the woman’s skirt covered her and her lover from where she sat on his lap, but the way she moved made their lovemaking obvious.

Reaver turned his attention back to his dance partner and put on his best smoldering look. “Tell me, have you ever lain with a man before,” his voice came out husky and his question earned a blush from his dance partner.

“No, I haven’t.” Despite his blush he didn’t appear at all averse to the idea.

“Well maybe I can fix that sometime soon,” Reaver grinned before leaning in to kiss the lad who sloppily kissed back. The song ended and Reaver pulled away from the kiss, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Feel free to drop by any time and we’ll have ourselves some fun.” He considered taking the man here and now but he knew he’d prefer him a little more sober, for all he knew the lad could be the type who couldn’t get it up after a bit of drinking.

Reaver groped the man’s ass before letting go of him and checking his pocket watch. Right on time, as always, then again he always made sure to plan out such details to make sure that his parties followed the timetable he wanted them to. He gave the musicians a nod and a servant lurched forward to hand him his cane. With the end of the music the ballroom grew quiet, with no noise besides the panting couple in the corner. Reaver paid them no mind as he tapped his cane twice against the floor, the noise echoing throughout the room.

“My gracious guests, it’s time for our last event of the night,” his voice boomed through the room, earning him the attention of those sober enough to pay him any. “What kind of host would I be without offering some more exotic entertainment now and then, hmm?” He surveyed the room, observing the handful of curious faces watching him. “Anyone ready to watch a smashing good fight follow me and as for the rest of you, you can get the hell out.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Come on then, no dallying around,” he waved for his guests to follow as he made his way towards his wheel of misfortune arena.

Due to one of his rather inebriated society members accidentally falling off of his balcony and into the arena last time and getting his head sliced open by a sand fury, Reaver had made sure to have a very strong balcony installed in time for this party. It was made of metal with a wide wooden banister atop it for comfort and a place to sit drinks. Hopefully no one would fall over top it; it was rather pathetic to watch drunks get sliced open without even putting up a fight. Perhaps his next project would be to get some comfortable seating installed.

Seven of his guests followed in after him, the rest too drunk to care or make it to the room. Reaver watched his guests shuffle in with a smirk on his face. He knew things would get interesting soon. Something about blood and gore brought out the carnal desires in balverines and he couldn’t help but to find their lust infectious. He approached the balcony, grinning down at the four men glaring up at him from the floor of his arena, the floor a patchwork of sand, dirt, rock, and dried blood. The men all dressed in black as if they were highway men or assassins of some sort.

“Now, now, wipe off those frowns and smile for my guests. I don’t want my entertainment to be disappointing.” He held out his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the men who tried to out our little secret society.”

One of his more drunken guests ripped off his right boot and threw it at the men in the arena beneath them, hitting the closest man in the head with it and earning laughter from the other guests. Even Reaver let out a low chuckle.

“We’re going to play a little game tonight. The last man standing gets a very special prize.”

“What kind of prize?” the shortest of the men asked with venom lacing his words. He looked weak compared to his taller companions.

“Why the best prize you could ever hope for of course!” Reaver grinned wickedly, eyeing up the tallest man, who despite his height had a bit of a feminine figure with nice hips that were hard to ignore in his tight, black clothing. He hoped that he’d be the last one standing and silently betted that the short man would go first. “Winner gets to spend some private time with me, now let’s get this show going,” Reaver tapped his cane, signaling for the wheel to spin.

The wheel landed on wolves and the correct door ominously creaked open. Almost immediately wolves ran out howling and growling. Reaver quickly found himself right about the short man, he missed every shot he fired and soon found himself pushed onto his back as a wolf jumped onto him. The man shrieked in pain as the wolf tore into him. The sound sent shivers of pleasure down Reaver’s spine and made his cock start to rise. The smell of blood tainted the air as the men cut down the wolves. The short man continued to fight the wolf on top of him before finally being silenced with a wet gurgling as the wolf tore into his throat.

Reaver could feel himself twitching in his pants and he subconsciously reached down with his free hand to rub himself. Around him his guests started to kiss and grope at each other, excited by the sound of the fighting going on below and the smell of blood. The smell of blood itself didn’t turn Reaver on like it did them, but he’d grown so used to the smell that it didn’t bother him or ruin the pleasure he got from watching a good fight.

“Barry, take over the wheel,” he hissed through his teeth as the last of the wolves got shot down. He didn’t have to say it twice, already the wheel started into a second spin. Reaver didn’t miss the twitches coming from the downed man as blood flowed out of his throat and wounds. A mercy bullet to the head by one of his companions ended the twitching and Reaver found his hand rubbing harder. Another gate opened and mercenaries rushed out into the arena.

“Can I help you?” a pretty blonde purred against his side as she pushed herself against him, giving him a great view of her cleavage. Reaver handed his cane over to Barry before pulling the woman into an embrace, kissing her roughly. He bit back a groan as she undid his pants and reached inside with her hand to stroke him. After a long moment he parted from the kiss, turning his gaze back to the fight below as a mercenary lost an arm. He twitched in the woman’s hand and she dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth.

The clanging of swords and bangs of gunfire came from below while behind him, his guests moaned in pleasure. At least two of his guests had been eager enough to already start fucking, mixing the smell of sex with the smell of blood. Even Barry started stroking himself. Reaver reached down and held the woman’s head in place as he bucked into her, forcing her to deep throat him. He found himself bending over slightly to rest his weight against the railing. His gaze connected with that of the tallest of his prisoners and Reaver rewarded him with a sadistic smile. No doubt the man could see the activities Reaver and his guests partook in on the balcony. It only seemed to anger the man as he let out a roar and drove his sword through a mercenary’s chest. The sight made Reaver cum with a shudder and he spurted into the woman’s mouth. She lapped it up eagerly as he glanced down to watch her.

After she finished swallowing him down, he pulled her onto her feet and got started on getting her out of her clothes. He tugged her dress off, pulling it over her head. He impatiently ripped her corset open and tugged the rest of her lacy undergarments off, letting his hands brush over her skin as he disposed of her clothes. Then he whirled her around to face the fight, letting her lean against the railing. One of his prisoners caught sight of the naked women and he gaped at the view. The distraction proved deadly as a mercenary slashed his shoulder and kicked him in the stomach. The force sent him flying off of his feet and onto his back. The mercenary drove his sword down and into the man’s chest, earning a scream. Just as he pulled his sword out a bullet tore through the mercenary’s head, spraying blood as he sunk to the ground.

Reaver grinded himself against the woman’s backside, letting her feel his erection. He reached around with one hand to cup her left breast and rub her nipple while his right hand ghosted down her body. One hand tugged gently at her nipple while he used his other to trace circles around her clit. She let out a low moan as she grinded herself back against him. He slid a finger inside her, followed shortly by a second one as he let them glide in and out of her, preparing and testing her. She already felt dripping wet, a few more moments and she would be ready for him. She switched back and forth from grinding against his erection and bucking against his hand.

“Such a naughty thing,” he nipped and sucked on her neck and she gasped out his name.

Below them, the remaining two prisoners continued to fight while the third lay moaning on the ground as he bled out. The yells and clanging of swords only seemed to elicit more moans from Reaver’s guests.

Reaver pulled his hands away from his plaything and gave her ass a good slap before he dug in his pocket for a condom. It only took him a few seconds to unwrap it and pull it over his impressive girth. He tossed the wrapper over his shoulder, he’d let the maids take care of it when they cleaned the place up. Reaver huskily whispered for the woman to turn around and face him and she obediently did. Bending his head down, he took a moment to suck and tug at each nipple while she mewled. Knowing that he couldn’t wait any longer, he picked her up by the waist and sat her down on top of the railing’s banister, keeping an arm securely around her while he reached down and guided himself to her entrance.

As the wheel of misfortune spun for the third time he pushed himself inside her, filling her completely in one swift thrust. She moaned and raked her nails over the back of his neck, making him shiver and give her a hiss of pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling and in response she wrapped her legs around him. He gave a few gentle thrusts before quickening his pace and the force of his thrusts. He knew from previous experience that she liked it rough and tonight he needed that.

The battle cry of the sand furies further excited Reaver and he felt himself twitch inside of his plaything. He gently nipped at the woman’s shoulder before biting it, earning a loud moan from her. He continued to pound into her, leaving love bites across her neck before biting her left breast. The heat enveloping him felt amazing and he gave a growl of satisfaction as he slammed into her even harder while she clawed at his back. If not for his clothes blocking her nails she would have left rather nasty scratches on him.

He glanced over her shoulder, watching as the tallest prisoner ran a sand fury through before pulling his sword out and kicking the creature over. The other man stood with his back against a wall as he shot at the two furies that boxed him in. One collapsed just as the other one managed to impale her katana through the man’s stomach. As he slumped to the ground he got one more shot off, hitting the sand fury in the head and sending her reeling to the ground.

The woman cried out Reaver’s name as she came, her muscles contracting and tightening around him. He let out a moan of his own and he came as her muscles squeezed rather hard around him. They stayed locked into the embrace as they panted and worked on catching their breath. Once he regained his composure he pulled away from her and helped her back onto her feet. She stood on shaky legs as she clutched at the railing. After a minute she grabbed up her dress and wobbled away, Reaver smirking as he watched her go.

In the arena the last man standing, the tallest of his prisoners, fought viciously against the last remaining sand fury. A rip in his shirt revealed a long gash across his shoulder, but he continued to fight on. Reaver arranged his clothes to make them neat again and buttoned himself back up. The man below stumbled backwards and fell as he blocked the attack of the sand fury. Reaver reached for his Dragonstomper. As the sand fury prepared to drive her katana through the man, Reaver shot her in the head. She crumpled to the ground as the prisoner stared in shock.

“Well it appears that we have a winner,” Reaver smirked. The man below raised his own pistol to shoot at Reaver, but Reaver acted with quicker reflexes, shooting the gun out of his hand. “I highly suggest that you be a good boy if you value your life at all,” Reaver warned before shoving his Dragonstomper back into its holster and turning to eye up Barry. Noticing his gaze, Barry stood up a little straighter despite his own unbuttoned pants and waited for orders. “Get him cleaned up and give him some food. Then have him chained to the bed in my playroom,” he grabbed his cane from Barry while he scanned his guests, most of them still in the throes of pleasure.

He didn’t hear Barry’s reply; he was too busy focusing on a pretty red head leaning against a wall as the man behind her thrust into her erratically. Reaver reached out and turned her head to face him before leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back, albeit a bit sloppily. With his lips curling up in another smile, he pulled away and cheerfully strolled out of the room, making his way to the stairs just in time to see two of his guards hauling his prisoner towards him.

“You bloody bastard!” the man yelled at Reaver while he continued to struggle against the guards, twisting about and dragging his feet.

“Tsk, tsk,” Reaver wagged a finger at him. “That’s no way to treat your host, now is it?”

“Go die,” the man spat and Reaver watched him with delight.

“The fiery ones are always the most fun, but feel free to drug him for now. I don’t need to speak with him until morning,” Reaver reached out and plucked a glass of juice off of a tray as one of his maids wandered past. He sipped at his drink and watched in amusement while a third guard stepped up and pressed a rag over the man’s mouth and nose. The man’s fighting slowed down until he finally went limp. “Do make sure his wounds are seen to.”

The guards nodded before dragging the man up the stairs. Reaver’s gaze danced around the room. Some of the guests already left, most that remained were still passed out. He felt confident enough to deem it a successful soirée. And perhaps tomorrow his special guest would be willing to finally talk now that his companions littered the arena floor. He let out a contented sigh. Tonight couldn’t have gone any better.

Chapter Text

The gray sky finally opened up, letting down a torrential downpour that would likely make some of the roads impassable for a day or two. Not that it bothered Reaver any, he didn’t have any travel plans for the next two days anyway. His managers could look after the factories without him, seeing as how that is what he hired them on to do. If anything, he felt glad that the rain held off until his party ended. He rather liked watching it rain while he ate breakfast at his study desk. He knew not to take his breakfast in the dining room; it would only feel empty and a bit lonely after his party.

At the thought of his party, he grabbed his glass of fresh juice and quickly finished it off. He stood and headed for the door, leaving his gloves and hat behind. He’d slept in a bit longer than he expected to, but that only gave his guards and servants more time to get his special guest ready. His wounds had been looked after; he’d been given food and the servants made sure he cleaned up. They had made sure to properly prepare him for Reaver. He expected to have nothing short of a marvelous day ahead of him.

He slipped into the bathroom to freshen up his breath. It just wouldn’t do to go kissing someone right after he ate. He really did prize good hygiene; it was the only thing that kept him from dragging some of his dirty workers into his office to shag them in the middle of the day. He just couldn’t get past the dirt on their skin and their smell. You’d think that after all these years more people would have started caring about proper hygiene, but apparently not, it was really such a pity. It was always a shame when good looks got hidden by filth.

“Barry!” his gaze darted around as he stepped into the hall. Barry quickly came hurrying around the corner, his shoes tapping against the floor. Reaver didn’t wait for Barry to reach him to address him. “I’m going to be in my playroom for a while; I don’t want to be disturbed for any reason.”

“Yes, Mastah” Barry bowed, his speech impediment screwing up the r.

Reaver frowned at him. “And fix your clothes, purple and orange don’t go together. I can’t have anyone thinking that I hired a butler so incompetent that he can’t even dress himself correctly,” he huffed. That outfit of his really did look hideous. Barry had to have had a nasty hang over if he was daft enough to pair a bright orange vest with a purple coat. Plus the purple of his cravat looked several shades darker than his coat. “If your clothing isn’t fixed by the time I leave my room, I’ll whip you,” with another huff, Reaver turned and headed towards his bedroom. He could hear Barry skittering away, likely headed to his own room to change.

By the time he reached his bedroom door, he started humming. He closed the door and headed towards the open passageway leading to his playroom. The sound of his cane tapping against the floor echoed down the passageway. His humming abruptly stopped when he spotted his guest and noticed that he’d actually fallen back asleep since he’d been tended to. He took a moment to take in the sight. With the man in nothing but a plain pair of pants, he got an eyeful of his lean body. The chains shackling him to the bed posts gave him enough slack to let him rest his arms against his pillows beside his head as he slept. He looked peaceful as he slept with his mouth slightly open. His wavy brunet hair reached the bottom of his ears, a piece of it laid over his face and Reaver gently pushed it to the side to get a better look at his smooth skin that held a hint of a tan to it.

He used his cane to jab the man in the side. The man woke with a start, his chains jingling as he hastily sat up.

“I always did find rainy days the best days to sleep in myself,” Reaver mused out loud, his gaze still raking over the man’s body.

“What do you want?” the man glared.

As Reaver sat down on the edge of the bed he could practically see the man tense. “I never did care for rude guests. Treating your host with respect can get you far, at least farther than a shallow grave.” He stared at the man, resting both of his hands atop his cane. “Since neither you nor your companions would talk before, I decided it would be a pity to kill you all so fast, you wouldn’t have learned your lesson. Watching you fight at my party last night was rather fun and I hope you learned from it,” Reaver smirked as the man’s features twisted into anger. “Now that you got to watch the rest of your friends make a mess of my arena floor with their insides, I hope you will be more cooperative. I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you will answer them like a good lad.”

“Why should I? You’ll probably kill me either way,” the man uselessly tugged at his chains.

“Now that’s just not true,” Reaver waggled a finger at him. “I was hoping to make a deal with you, but if you don’t cooperate then I’ll just kill you.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Reaver. “What kind of deal?”

“First of all, what’s your name?” Reaver leaned towards him.

The man hesitated before answering. “William.”

“Well William, as of late I’ve been running low on guards. It just so happens that two of them were complete imbeciles and decided to drink on the job which only inhibited their fighting skills. They both got their intestines ripped out by a balverine so at the moment, I’m looking to hire on new guards and your fighting skills are perfect for the job. I pay well and despite what you may have heard, I don’t go around shooting my staff all willy nilly,” Reaver gestured with his hand to emphasize his point. “Good staff are hard to come by, I do punish if you make a lot of mistakes, but not in a way that will make it harder to do your job since I always expect top notch work.”

“And if I did screw up, how would you punish me?”

Reaver could see the curiosity burning in William’s eyes. He hadn’t thought he’d get him interested so fast. “For you, I think a good round or two of rough sex would do it.”

At his words, William kicked at him but Reaver was faster and moved out of the way. “Now don’t be that way,” Reaver jabbed him in the ribs with his cane, earning a flinch from William. “I know from experience that you are reacting that way because you’ve either never been with a man before, or you hate me. Or it could be both, I suppose,” Reaver walked to the wall displaying some of his toys and slid his cane into an empty slot. Around it hung blindfolds, handcuffs, restraints, dildos, cock rings, and various other toys. He reached for the leather flogger. Holding it securely in hand, he walked back towards the bed, watching as William eyed up the instrument with distaste.

“You’re going to whip me?” a slight tremor ran through his words.

“Only if you don’t cooperate, or you ask me to.” The look of fury on William’s face only made Reaver’s smirk deepen. “Now tell me why you and your friends wanted to out my secret society.”

William took a long moment to answer, regarding Reaver with a scowl before answering. “No.”

Reaver cracked the flogger against William’s stomach with a loud smack, leaving red marks behind. William let out a hiss of pain.

“Tell me, or I will hit you harder.” When Reaver didn’t get an answer right away, he cracked the ends of the flogger against him a second time, drawing out a yelp.

“It was all about revenge, okay?!” William half shouted his answer. “They planned it and asked me to join,” as he spoke his gaze stayed glued to the flogger. “Charles, the short one, you killed his brother a few months back, he started the planning. We all joined because of our grievances with you. I don’t know why the others joined; they didn’t tell me much, just promised to pay me a lot if it was successful. They wanted my fighting skills.”

“And what exactly is your grievance with me my dear boy?” Reaver raised his eyebrows at him. He didn’t remember ever meeting him before, so he couldn’t recollect any activities he’d done that could have drawn the man’s ire.

“You stole my fiancée,” The words came out quiet and a faraway look crossed his face.

“Did I now? I don’t recall ever stealing anyone, I don’t date, I only play around.”

William frowned at him. “You slept with her once. From what I understand, you saw her in Bowerstone Market and decided you wouldn’t mind a go with her, so you fucked her on the dining room table that I had bought for our new home.”

Reaver gave a long hum of acknowledgment. “I do remember that. I was unaware that she was engaged, not that it would have mattered.” Reaver felt a little disappointment when William didn’t lash out at him. He just looked…sad, distraught even.

“We would have married last weekend, but after that she became obsessed with you and broke things off.”

“If we are discussing who I think we are, I do have a restraining order against her. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot her though; I find practically worshipping me an admirable quality in anyone.”

William’s face darkened. “Benjamina…she won’t give up on you. She’s not even the same person she used to be. You’ve destroyed her.”

“I did nothing of the sort!” Reaver huffed, feeling rather offended that his guest had just insinuated that having sex with him could ruin someone’s life. Well maybe it could if he somehow inadvertently killed them, which had happened before, but that wasn’t the point. Anyone should feel grateful for having a chance to be ravished by him, how they reacted after the fact wasn’t his problem or his fault. Giving a lady a good shag wasn’t grounds to go around accusing him of ruining her life, in fact, the last time he had a run in with the lass she looked rather happy. She’d practically thrown herself at him and cried from pure happiness at just seeing him and making someone cry tears of joy just from gracing them with his presence did stroke his ego.

“Perhaps she just wasn’t right for you. You’re a handsome young man, I’m sure you’ll meet many willing women yet. If not, I can help you out. I’m sure I can find many young eligible women for you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Reaver absentmindedly tapped the flogger against his leg as he raised his brow at William.

“The point is that you’re a dirty bastard who doesn’t care about others.”

The words didn’t bother Reaver any. Then again, he couldn’t really disagree with them. “Since you already knew that, then just how stupid are you? You must have had a death wish to join that little gang plotting against me.”

“I might have,” William quietly admitted with a grim look on his face.

“Death wish or not, you did fight impressively in my arena. After that experience, do you still want to die?” Reaver watched him closely. “Did it feel good watching your companions die while waiting for your turn?”

“No,” he wouldn’t look at Reaver as he replied and he wore that far off look on his face again.

“Ah, that’s what I thought. Since you can’t get your little revenge on me, how about I help you get your own revenge on your dear Benjamina? After all, you shouldn’t be blaming me for her sudden lack of interest in you. It wasn’t like I forced her, I merely asked and she practically threw herself at me,” Reaver leaned over William, his voice dropping. “I was only the catalyst that finally made her leave you. She’s the one that broke your heart dear boy, not me. So how about a little revenge?” Reaver reached out with his free hand and let it trail down William’s chest. Oh yes, his body certainly would do with that nice, lithe form of his. If he sunk his claws into him now, perhaps he could train the boy to fuck him back properly. It’d been a while since he let himself be had by a man.

William squirmed under his touch and gaze. “What do you want from me?”

“Do you remember that deal I mentioned earlier? As a reward for letting you go free, I want to be able to have some fun with you,” he leaned in even closer and in response, William turned his head away. Reaver grinned at that and moved to whisper in his ear. “I promise that you will feel fantastic. You haven’t lived until you’ve had another man’s cock inside you,” he nipped at his guest’s ear. William gasped in response and jerked away. “What’s it going to be?” Reaver climbed atop his him, straddling him with a smirk. Now he could see the blush on William’s face. “Have some fun, or die?”

Reaver reached out and turned William’s head towards him before leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss. When his guest didn’t reciprocate, Reaver started grinding on him and a moment later, he found eager lips kissing him back. He tossed the flogger onto the floor and used his hands to explore his guest’s body. Beneath him he could feel William’s body responding, his bulge becoming more and more prominent. Reaver used his hands to tweak William’s nipples and in response, William bucked his hips up into him. No doubt the aphrodisiac that Reaver had the servants slip into William’s drink had helped get this reaction from him, but he didn’t have to know that.

Reaver brushed his tongue over William’s one last time before pulling away to slide down his body. He reached out and undid the buttons on William’s pants, then instructing him to lift his hips, he pulled them off. His servants hadn’t bothered putting anything else on him, likely William had given them enough trouble for them to not want to bother with any other clothing. William’s erection stood tall, bringing back Reaver’s wolfish grin. The lad had a decent size, a bit average, but big enough. He could still see uncertainty in those hazel eyes that watched him, but no matter, that would be gone soon.

He reached out and stroked William, giving him a few good tugs before repositioning himself. Smiling, he made eye contact with the lad while he bent his head down, taking him into his mouth. The look of shock of the lad’s face thrilled him. He could already see that uncertainty being burned away by desire. With Reaver working William’s cock with his mouth and hand, it didn’t take long before he started moaning and bucking into Reaver. Some men always acted so surprised that they enjoyed being with another man, which Reaver never understood. After all, who knew how to please a man better than another man?

Reaver ran his tongue in circles over the tip of William’s cock, pressing his tongue against his slit. He started bobbing his head up and down, deep throating him to increase the pleasure for his guest. In his mouth and hand, Williams cock twitched as it leaked salty precum. Reaver worked him with his mouth a minute longer before moving to use only his hands. He wrapped his hand tight around William’s cock and jerked his hand up and down the shaft, slowly increasing his pace while his other hand massaged his balls. A few fast strokes later and William twitched and came with a moan. Grabbing a towel off of the stack sitting on one of the bedside tables, Reaver cleaned the mess up. Then he threw the towel down on the floor and climbed to his feet.

With William watching him, he began to strip down, taking his time with it. He relished the way the lad’s eyes raked over him. His eyes would go from desire, to fear, then back to desire all over again. When he revealed his rather large erection, a frown tugged at the corner of William’s lips.

“What’s wrong? Too small for your tastes?” Reaver teased.

“Isn’t that… a bit big to go in?” William eyed him warily.

“No need to worry that handsome head of yours, you seem to be forgetting who you are dealing with. My talents are renowned for a reason,” Reaver turned to face his wall of toys, taking a short moment to deliberate before picking out a cock ring and a butt plug. William didn’t say a word when Reaver fastened the ring on him, instead his gaze stayed glued to the butt plug, that frown of his deepening. “Don’t worry; it’s not for you, only the cock ring is”

Reaver hummed while he grabbed a condom and fit it over the toy before lathering it up in some lube that he pulled from the drawer of one of the bed side stands. With it ready to go, he gingerly sat it on the stand, resting his knees beside William’s shoulders.

“Time to repay the favor,” Reaver instructed as he moved to dangle his cock over William’s mouth. With his hands still chained up, William had no other option but to use his mouth. Reaver watched as the lad took him in his mouth. He struggled without being able to use his hands, but Reaver didn’t mind. The feeling of the tongue flicking over his tip and licking down his length still felt good. With one hand, Reaver held onto the bed frame to support himself. With his other hand, he reached around to prepare himself for his toy, slipping a finger inside himself, shortly followed by another.

He let William lick and suck him for a few short minutes before pulling away and grabbing his toy again. Moving to kneel beside his guest in the large bed, Reaver held his toy in place with hand while he slid himself onto it with a satisfied hiss. With the edges of his mouth curving up, he turned his attention back to his guest.

“Roll over onto your stomach.”

William cast a worried look towards Reaver’s cock before rolling over, the chains clanging as he did so. Reaver spread William’s legs and kneeled between them.

“Just relax,” Reaver instructed as he massaged William’s ass. It took a moment, but he finally relaxed as Reaver moved down and massaged his thighs, his fingers rubbing in circles. Reaver lubed up his fingers again before prodding one inside William’s puckered hole. William let out a low hiss in response. Reaver didn’t let up; he worked at loosening him up. When he felt his guest starting to tense up again, he crooked two fingers in him and massaged his prostate, earning a surprised gasp. He kept it up for a bit, smirking when William started grinding himself against the sheets.

“I used a special lubrication, you know,” Reaver spoke as he went back to loosening William up. “It’ll help you relax and feel good. It’s a bit pricey but well worth the results.” In response he only got a small whimper as William tried to buck against the sheets. Deeming him ready, Reaver positioned himself to enter him. He guided himself in, pushing in slowly until he buried himself to the hilt. Beneath him, William breathed heavily, his hands balling the sheets into his fists.

Letting William get used to him first, Reaver stayed still while he massaged him again. Finally, he started moving, rocking gently. He bit back a moan at the feeling of being buried inside William. The feeling of the toy in his own rear only made it feel better. With each thrust he increased his speed, working up to a quick pace.

“Does having a man fuck you feel good?” Reaver’s voice came out husky, sending a shiver through William.

“Yes,” William practically squeaked it out.

Reaver changed his aim, hitting William’s prostate as he moaned beneath Reaver. “Tell me that my cock feels good or I’ll quit,” Reaver bent down, resting his weight on his elbows so that William could feel his breath against his neck.

“Your cock,” William let out a gasp as Reaver hit his sweet spot again. “F-feels good,” he shuddered.

Reaver increased the force of his thrusting, his gaze drinking up the sight of the man beneath him. The chains clanged whenever William jerked in pleasure. Reaver couldn’t help but to let his mind wonder at what else he could plan for future romps with the man. If he could make him a guard, he’d have access to some of the fantasies his mind was already dreaming up. Being the voyeur that he sometimes was, he was already plotting up ways to watch William fuck some pretty little lass. Then Reaver could take him afterwards. Reaver could have the man lusting after him like his little Benjamina yet.

After a few more perfectly positioned thrusts, William came with a moan, his muscles going into a spasm around Reaver who kept up his thrusting. His moaning intensified as he rode his orgasm out and Reaver slammed into him, excited by the sound. As William came down from his orgasm high, Reaver came, burying himself to the hilt and resting on top of William. They both took some time to catch their breath.

“You came without even having your cock played with this time,” Reaver kissed William’s shoulder before climbing off of him, sliding off his condom and tossing it into the small bin by the bed stand.

“That orgasm felt more intense than usual,” William mumbled. Reaver rested against the pillows beside William who watched him through half lidded eyes.

“That orgasm was the result of the cock ring paired with a prostate orgasm. Feels good, right?” Reaver gave a low hum. Reaver glanced at William, noticing that he looked on the verge of dozing off. He reached out to poke him in the side. “Don’t you go to sleep on me, we aren’t through yet.”

William gave a small groan. “What more could there be?”

Reaver reached up to free his guest from his chains. When he did, William didn’t move from where he lay on his stomach. Reaver grabbed another condom and the lube and sat them in William’s hand.

“Once you can get it up again, get yourself ready.”

William raised his eyebrows at Reaver. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Well that is why I prepared myself earlier. I don’t trust a first timer to do it right,” as he spoke, Reaver lifted up his hips and pulled out the toy from his ass. Pulling the condom off, he added it to the garbage before sitting the toy on the stand. “Come on now, get yourself ready,” Reaver tugged at himself, his cock rising again in his hand. Feeling ready himself, Reaver moved onto his hands and knees, glancing around his shoulder to watch as William prepared himself.

“Do I just…stick it in then?” William asked as he moved to kneel behind Reaver.

“Yes, I already prepared myself; just make sure you use a lot of lube. Don’t worry about being too rough, I don’t mind it rough,” Reaver winked. He could feel William getting into place behind him, his cock prodding Reaver’s entrance. Reaver chewed on his bottom lip in anticipation. It really had been too long since he’d last done this. Back in his pirating days he used to have anal all the time, with a ship full of men it was often his only option. He had trusted a few of his crew members to give him a good fuck when the mood hit him. Nowadays chasing after women was oftentimes the easier option. Some men just weren’t adventurous enough to test their sexuality.

Reaver let out a groan of relief as William slid inside him. As William began thrusting Reaver rocked his own hips in rhythm.

“Harder,” Reaver clawed at the sheets as William obliged him, slamming into him hard and fast. If William hadn’t been holding onto him by his hips Reaver would have toppled forward from the sudden momentum. At least his guest knew how to fuck well, a little more training and Reaver could have himself a nice toy to play with, one that he wouldn’t tire of too quickly. The force of William’s thrusting did hurt a bit, but Reaver enjoyed the pain. It felt like the lad was pouring some of his anger into that thrusting. Reaver would have to take a potion to soothe the pain later, especially if he wanted to do any sitting.

Reaver passed the next few minutes in bliss, eventually lowering himself onto his stomach to handle the force of the thrusts better. At the feel of William biting at his shoulder, a move he thought was meant to anger him, Reaver only moaned. It felt damn good and there was no way he was going to let this man waltz off into the sunset after all of this. William would be a good addition to some of his parties; perhaps he could make him his personal guard for a bit, not that he needed one. It would be absolutely grand to be able to get a good fuck on his way home from his factories; it’d be good way to let off some steam.

William’s anger only made the sex better. Reaver didn’t mind when William flipped him over onto his back without asking, or even when he held Reaver’s arms above his head.

“Dirty bastard,” William growled into his ear, before giving him a rather deep and forceful thrust. “Nothing but a whore,” William bit him again and Reaver eagerly bucked his hips in pace to the thrusting. Outside of the bedroom those words would have earned William a good punch, and depending on his mood maybe a bullet, but in the bedroom those words turned Reaver on, they made him shiver. His only regret was that he couldn’t stroke himself, but having his hands held in place above his head was just as exciting. He liked being manhandled in bed now and again; he liked being on the opposite end from what he was used to, it made sex more exhilarating.

“That’s it,” Reaver purred. “Fuck me like a whore.” Reaver felt glad for picking out that cock ring, he liked how long William was lasting. William growled at him and reached down to tug at Reaver’s cock. That was it, those tugs were enough to send Reaver over the brink and he came, squirting rather vigorously as his orgasm rocked through him, making him spasm and moan. In the midst of his orgasm, William followed him over the edge, collapsing on top of Reaver as he panted.

“Now that was just marvelous,” Reaver panted before rolling William off of him. “I bet that was a shag worthy of making your dear Benjamina jealous,” Reaver frowned in disappointment when he didn’t get a rise out of William who looked too worn out to care.

“Let me sleep now,” William mumbled as he tossed his condom into the bin and buried his head against one of the pillows.

Reaver reached out and gave his ass a good slap. “Rest up, you start your training as a guard tomorrow,” he ignored the groan that came from William. Reaver winced as he climbed onto his feet; he definitely needed to drink a potion to ease that soreness. He cleaned up with another towel before dressing. By the time he headed for the door, William already slept soundly on the bed. Reaver whistled this time as he walked through the passageway to his bedroom. Who knew recruiting a new guard could be so much fun? Maybe he’d go back later for another round.

Chapter Text

“Ah, take a whiff of that crisp spring air,” Reaver took a deep breath from where he stood with his right foot on a tree stump and his hands resting on his hips. Being on the outskirts of the Millfields, the forest was rather quiet with only the sounds of birds singing echoing in the forest. Well that and the jangle of metal chains shaking. “I can’t think of a better place to be right now, can you, Barry?” Reaver reached up to run a hand over his hair.

He had opted for casual attire for his little trip into the forest which meant forgoing his hats and fancy suits. Instead he wore black trousers with boots and a plain, long sleeved crimson shirt with a black vest over it. His vantage point allowed him to see the pink and orange rays streaking the sky through the canopy of tree branches as the sun sank further and further.

“No, mastah,” Barry drawled from where he held a length of chain. “Of course not.” At the other end of the chain stood a young blonde man with shackles around his wrists. He couldn’t be more than twenty five and he looked a little malnourished with his overly thin frame. His gaze darted around the forest as he shook, making his chains jingle and clink together. At the sound of branches cracking somewhere in the tree canopy above him, the prisoner jumped.

“Twilight is so beautiful this time of the year. It’s too bad that it doesn’t last a little longer,” a small frown turned down the corners of Reaver’s mouth. “Only a few more minutes and the balverines will be emerging to hunt. They have been so problematic this spring. They’ve already killed four people this year, including one of my guards,” Reaver shook his head. “They can be such pesky creatures when they want to be.” He turned to eye up his prisoner. “But maybe we’ll get lucky and the fifth person will be the last.”

“P-please just let me go,” the prisoner begged as he cast Reaver a pained look.

“Why my dear boy, I’m about to do exactly that! You will be free to go; you just have to survive the balverines in the forest, that’s all,” he held out his arms as if to show off the forest surrounding them.

“I can’t outrun balverines! No one can,” the prisoner’s face contorted into a mask of anger with only his fear showing in his eyes.

Reaver tsked at the man. “Then you should have considered that before you tried to burn down one of my factories. I find it impossible to believe that you thought that you could get away with that consequence free. You seem to have forgotten who you are dealing with.”

“There’s no chance against balverines, it’s not fair!” spooked by the man’s yell, two birds went squawking and careening into the air from a nearby tree, making the man jump again.

Reaver sighed. “I could just shoot you if you prefer. That has no chance of survival,” at the end of his words a chorus of balverine howls started somewhere off in the forest. Reaver smiled at his prisoner. “Make your decision now,” he yanked his pistol from his holster and stepping away from the stump, he took aim at the man.

“D-don’t shoot.”

“Then the decision has been made,” Reaver lowered his gun but didn’t holster it. “Barry, you know what to do.”

“Yes, mastah,” Barry spoke as he brandished a dagger, cutting a gash along the prisoner’s side, making him scream.

“The hell was that for!”

“Balverines are hunters. They can smell blood across long distances,” a large grin spread across Reaver’s face. “They’ll flock to you now; they’ll flock to you like vultures to a dead carcass. Luckily for Barry and me, I have a gun to protect us, but you don’t. If you want a chance,” his words got interrupted by another chorus of howls, “I suggest you start running now. They’ve already caught your scent.”

The prisoner paled. Without another word, he turned and ran in the direction of the town. Blood oozed down his side and marked his trail with droplets of blood.

“I’d say the hunt is on,” Reaver sighed with pleasure. “I do love a good hunt, even when I’m not the one hunting.”

“But what if we get attacked?” Barry jumped at the sound of growling as a Balverine hurtled past them. At the sight of the creature Barry edged closer to Reaver. While Barry didn’t fear the creatures when he narrated the arena fights, like anyone else he knew how dangerous it could be in a balverine infested forest at night. Especially when he had nothing but a dagger to defend himself and a master who might decide on a whim to let the Balverines get him just for the sake of his own twisted amusement.

“Don’t worry my dear man; a bullet in the head will stop them. Besides, they are already on the hunt after our young arsonist. They won’t pay us any mind.”

A scream pierced the air. “I’d say they found him and so fast too. Come Barry; let’s go see what’s become of him.” Reaver took off, following the glistening trail of blood with Barry following close behind him. While they headed through the dim forest, Reaver hummed.

When they came upon the two balverines feasting upon their fresh kill, Reaver shot them all, dropping each of them in quick succession with a quick bullet to the head. Upon the ground lay the arsonist, his eyes still open with a look of horror etched upon his face. The balverines had torn him in two and ripped off his arms, leaving his body mangled and bloody. Barry cringed at the scene and glanced away.

Reaver let out a deep breath, letting it come out as a hiss of pleasure as his pants began to feel a little tighter. “Well that was much more satisfying than just shooting him. We also got rid of that balverine pest problem too. Nothing like killing two birds with one stone, eh?” Reaver nudged Barry.

“What are we going to do with him now?” Barry eyed the corpse with a look of distaste. The last thing he wanted was to have to bury the mangled body or carry it somewhere else.

“Just leave him. We have bigger issues to deal with now, like finding the others in the ring he was trying to run. This time it was an attempted fire, next time they could be blowing up my factories. I can’t possibly take any chances on that. Come along,” Reaver trudged through the forest, heading towards the lights from the mansion of Millfields that glimmered through the trees.

“Maybe King Logan could help,” Barry suggested. He stopped in his tracks to scowl at the puddle he stepped in. With Reaver getting ahead of him, Barry hurried to catch back up to him, the water soaking deeper into his shoe with each step, making him mull over the fact that he should have worn boots instead.

“Excellent idea, Barry. So excellent in fact that I’ve already done that. Our dear King has given me permission to use any means necessary to stop the attacks. After all, with no factories there will be no production and no production means no money!”

“Mastah, may I suggest using some of the rebels as entertainment at a party? Some of the guests have been asking for another arena show.”

“Another excellent idea, Barry. I think I will do exactly that. But you know, this little foray reminds me that it’s been a while since I’ve gone on a good hunting trip. I think it’s time to schedule one.”

“Would you like me to schedule you a trip, mastah?” Barry nearly tripped over a large fallen tree branch as he struggled to keep up with Reaver’s fast pace.

“Hmm, not just yet. I think I need to pay our King a visit first. Hunting is so much more fun when humans are the prey and I think our King would be alright with letting me buy up some prisoners if the money goes to his treasury.” At the sound of another howl Reaver stopped in his tracks with a frown. “Another one, I thought we got them all,” he turned around as the howling drew closer and closer.

“It’s coming towards us, isn’t it?” Barry stumbled backwards and inched behind Reaver.

“It appears I was wrong in thinking none of them would take an interest in us,” Reaver glanced back at Barry. “You didn’t clean the knife off. It can smell the blood yet,” he tsked at his butler.

“S-sorry.”

A white balverine barreled out from a wall of tall bushes, causing Reaver’s pulse to quicken ever so slightly. In one swift motion Reaver brandished his gun and fired it, stopping the balverine with a bullet to the head. The Balverine fell and slid across the ground until it came to a stop mere inches from Reaver’s feet. Behind him, Barry let out a frightened squeak.

“How exhilarating,” Reaver mumbled to himself. Now his pants felt absolutely constricting thanks to that latest excitement of facing down danger. “Hopefully that’s the last of those pests so let’s hurry along home now. I have important plans to make,” Reaver holstered his gun and took off again. He didn’t stop until he made it home, not even when Barry tripped over a tree root and fell face first. Reaver had too much on his mind to stop for such annoying distractions. After all, he had his business to think of and a vacation to plan. More importantly, he couldn’t wait to lock himself in his play room for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Nightmare Lane

Reaver jerked awake. His heart pounded in his chest and a sheen of cold sweat covered his skin. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his pistol. Instead of finding himself surrounded by the inky blackness of swirling shadows and the screams of his old village, he found himself staring at his wide eyed bed partner. Her blond hair stuck out from her head in a knotted mess.

She stopped with both hands on her dress, which she hadn’t quite tugged up over her rather large chest yet. The lights in his playroom cast the room in a dim light and in the murkiness of his confusion, he found himself firing off a shot at her shadow, which appeared to undulate in the dim light.

In response, the shrieked and took off running, resulting in her tripping over her dress and face planting. She scurried back onto her feet and took off through the secret hallway to Reaver’s playroom. Her corset, which Reaver had cut off of her, lay forgotten on the floor along with the her shoes.

Reaver gently lay his pistol down while sitting down on the bed himself. Already the dream had become hazy. He could only remember the shrieking of the innocent villagers as they died mixed in with the thunder storm soaking the village while the swirling of shadows made it impossible to discern anything specific. Well, perhaps he didn’t remember it all but he remembered pieces from the countless times he’d dreamt of it previously.

It was truly the only thing that ever haunted him in his long life. No matter how much he tried to force himself to get over it or push the blame off himself, he couldn’t succeed. And whenever he thought he’d finally been successful, the nightmare would resurface to torment him.

“I am not he. I am Reaver.” He repeated the mantra that he’d already spoken dozens if not hundreds of times. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept him sane. He could remember one drunken night of waking up after falling asleep at his desk with a hangover from too much imported wine only to find a notebook in front of him where he had scrawled that mantra across dozens of pages. The words had gotten harder and harder to read with each page as the effects of the booze set in.

Those nightmares were exactly why he preferred sleeping alone.

“That broad is lucky I didn’t shoot her,” he grumbled to himself as he crawled back into bed.

What had she been doing? He’d told her to get out as soon as they finished and that had to have been at least three hours ago. One woman, about, oh, say seventy years ago had been strangled to death by him when she snuck back into his bed after he fell asleep. In the darkness, he mistook her for one of those damned shadows as she snuck in after his unlucky little nightmare. So he strangled her with his bare hands. Even all these years later he could still remember her dead eyes staring up at him from where he sat on her midsection.

Usually the only ones he remembered killing were some of his sacrifices. Like the young girl who wanted to kill herself because she was pregnant, but it didn’t belong to her husband. And lucky him, today he got to set out on the journey to perform another sacrifice. This time it would be a young teenage runaway who liked bedding whores more than working. Reaver nearly fired him when the boy snuck off to avoid work again until Reaver realized that he could just use him as his next sacrifice. Knowing what waited for him would make it impossible for him to fall back asleep, but damned if he wouldn’t try.

It never failed that the images of the past came back to haunt him whenever he stepped into Wraithmarsh. Time couldn’t erase the sight of swirling shadows while the villagers shrieked in a mixture of pain and terror.

A shiver crept up his spine, shaking him to his core. It was so hard to feel like Reaver in this place, which meant he spent most of his little hike repeating his mantra in his head over and over again while his prey cowered in fear of the place, oblivious to what awaited him. The boy had nearly fainted at the sight of the hollow men. There weren’t many of those left anymore, Reaver had killed most of them during his journeys to the temple. But adventurers and travelers sometimes meandered into the marsh where Reaver later got to meet them in a more hollow form. It was the decaying corpses that had the largest impact, the sight of flesh falling off the bones while maggots feasted held quite the visual shock. But Reaver didn’t fear them; it was the Banshees that he dreaded running into. The fog materializing meant that one had to be nearby.

I am not he. I am Reaver. I am not he. I am Reaver I am not he. I am Reaver.

Really, this was the one place guaranteed to not make him feel like Reaver. While his memories of what the village used to look like before his little deal destroyed it faded more and more each year, his fear of the place stayed as strong as ever.

“Come on now, no lazing around, we need to finish this,” Reaver whacked the boy over the head.

The boy looked up from the damp stone he sat on. “But you got me up at the crack of dawn and it’s so exhausting walking through this marsh and mud! I can’t carry back any treasure like this! Can’t we have a break?”

“No! No breaks!” Reaver barked at him and took off again, heading between a group of cottages. Despite how run down they looked, he felt surprised that they still stood at all despite all the years and water that they had endured. If he remembered the layout of the village correctly, one of the ones still standing had been hers.

You killed them all. Your selfishness ended the life of the one you loved.

The sound of the banshee’s voice sent another chill down his spine. Four of her shadow children started towards him and he quickly killed them off with one shot each. The shots echoed over the dismal marsh and he nimbly loaded more bullets into his pistol to finish off the banshee.

Just give in. Your death will be celebrated across all of Albion.

“Oh shut it, bitch,” Reaver fired a shot, hitting the Banshee square in the chest. She shrieked in response.

You are not Reaver! You will never be Reaver!

His hand trembled now, making it hard to aim. He squeezed off another shot, missing by a mere few inches. The banshee shrieked again and the sound of her screaming for him to save her filled his ears. Behind him, the yelling of the boy to kill the banshee went unnoticed to Reaver.

He stepped closer to the banshee, his foot catching on a tree root hidden in the water causing him to stumble. His mantra was all but forgotten now, as was Reaver and he had never been has brave as Reaver.

Your life is worthless. No one will ever love you again!

He fumbled with his aim and squeezed the trigger, hitting the Banshee in her shoulder. As she shrieked he continued to pull the trigger until he ran out of bullets. Panting, he looked around as the fog slowly faded, leaving only the usual fog of the marsh behind. Reaver collapsed onto his knees as his hands shook. Water soaked through his pants, the iciness of the water only increased his shaking. It took him a minute to load the gun back up.

“Was that a banshee?” the boy sloshed through the water to reach Reaver who stared up at him blankly trying to remember his quest.
“Yeah.”

“The girls at the tavern will never believe this one,” he blabbered while Reaver ignored him.

“Come on, move along,” his voice trembled. Reaver continued on since the only thing scarier than banshees was death and that would catch him eventually if he stayed in the marsh. He needed to make his sacrifice and get out of there. At least the return trip would be faster without tugging the boy along. Plus all the pests along the path had been terminated for now. At least until the next traveler wandered in and created another monster to fight.

Reaver grabbed the boy by the arm, hauling him through the swamp and into the temple.

“Reaver,” the voice from the shadow boomed through the temple. Hearing that name helped bring back a piece of his haughty self.

“Yeah, yeah. You know why I’m here so just do it already.”

“Never one for talk,” as the shadow went silent the boy began screaming as his life drained from him, aging him into a wrinkled old man who trembled just like Reaver had back in the marsh.

Without a word, Reaver shot him dead center in his forehead and kicked him into the pit in front of them. Then he promptly forgot about the boy. He turned and started the trek back to the ship. In the old days he just walked in from Bloodstone but now he preferred to just get on and off a ship. Bloodstone wasn’t for him anymore. He didn’t miss all the poor and dirty pirates and other sailors. He could never get a half decent chef or butler when he lived there and any maid he ever hired developed a rather nasty stealing habit. One even went as far as to try to steal some of his furniture, getting away with three chairs and some dishes before he caught her.

The cold dampness of the marsh struck him with a start as he left the temple, derailing his thoughts about his Bloodstone days. A perpetual chill always hung over the place, even on hot days. You could tell how close you were to the marsh based on temperature alone.

Reaver huffed as he started sloshing back through the marsh. He didn’t quite feel the confidence that he tried to put on display. His hand stayed tense and ready to grab at his pistol in case of any surprises. Despite the fatigue starting to grip his legs and feet he continued on as fast as he could.

Even if you saved her she never would have forgiven you. Not a spineless creature like you.

As the banshee started to shriek, Reaver let out a shriek of his own. He emptied his pistol into her, killing her before she could summon any shadow children. The last bullet sailed through her dissolving body and struck a dead tree.

“I fucking hate this place!” Reaver yelled as he moved to reload his pistol. It was rather odd to encounter two banshees. Then again he’d been hearing reports of more and more people being killed near the marsh as the banshees wandered the edges of it looking for victims. The place seemed to attract the evil bitches like flies to honey. At this rate, if they kept multiplying he wouldn’t mentally be able to handle the trek to make his sacrifice.

He had already tried to get well known adventurers to do the deed for him, but neither they nor his prey ever made it to the temple. At least the seal would teleport back to him instead of forcing him to go looking for it. Only one had ever been successful out of the dozen he tried, and even then the strong lad didn’t make it out on the return trip. If the banshee numbers kept growing then perhaps he’d meet his demise inside this damned marsh yet.

Walking the streets of Bowerstone wasn’t enough to dispel the memories of his marshy adventure. Despite the rather warm day he wore long sleeves. The chill of the marsh clung to him and he couldn’t quite dispel it. Even worse was that whenever he went hunting for a bed partner all the women started to resemble her. Despite all the years he spent wishing that he could forget her face, now that her appearance really had become blurry in his memory, it felt worse than being able to recall every little detail of her. Now he found himself trying to recall those details instead of forgetting them. For instance, didn’t she have a small mole below her right eye? Or was it just a freckle? He didn’t know anymore.

He found himself strolling up a rather narrow lane near the market. It was the smell of flowers that lured him to it. Several houses had window boxes with the same flowers planted in them, and they were her favorite. He wrinkled his nose at the scent. He had learned to despise it over the years, yet it still got him sometimes.

The scent brought back the memory of him spending ages trying to pick only the most perfect flowers for her. She’d always giggle when he took them to her, at the beginning it even made her blush. It had been in a meadow away from the village filled with those flowers where he first made love to her one night. He’d picked that spot purely to try to be romantic.
He clucked his tongue at himself and turned to head to the market.

No need to think of such nonsense. That had been a different life, a different man. A life and a man that he couldn’t get rid of completely. No doubt those hideous flowers would make an appearance in his dreams tonight, and perhaps that meadow too if he didn’t forget that memory fast enough.

It was high time that he pick out some new wines for his party in two days because what better way to get the chilliness of the marsh out of his mind than a party? A secret society party filled with sex and booze sounded absolutely fantastic. And as for tonight he could do without a woman in his bed. He did have his new guard that he could lure in after all. The thought of getting himself whipped got his blood pumping. He wanted sex, but only rough, painful sex with him on the receiving end.
After all, nothing erased memories and nightmares better than sex and pain.

Chapter Text

Reaver banged on the carriage wall. “Let’s hurry it up please! If I wind up late I will put a bullet in both of your legs.” Reaver yelled at his carriage driver. So what if the roads were snow covered? That wasn’t a proper excuse. He’d even made sure to leave early. To be late to his first meeting with the king would be dreadful manners indeed and it was crucial that he make a good impression. Getting the crown to back his business would be a dream come true and the pinnacle of his business career so far. It was an opportunity he didn’t want to see slip through his fingers.

As the carriage rattled to a stop, he checked his pocket watch with a huff. He only had ten minutes to spare, a rather close call.

“Master Reaver, we’ve arrived.” The carriage driver opened the door and bowed to him, his eyes locked onto Reaver’s gun.

“Yes, I can see that.” Reaver climbed out and stretched before taking off towards the snow covered castle steps where servants busied themselves of trying to clear the snow off. The snow storm the previous night had come without any warning, but Reaver wasn’t about to cancel his meeting with the king over some snow. The fact that it nearly reached the top of Reaver’s boots was irrelevant. Snow wouldn’t hamper him or his greedy desire to expand his business.

The guards standing near the front doors watched him approach. One opened the door for him without question. The butler greeted him as soon as he walked in the door and took his coat from him. Reaver eyed him up. He had done his research and knew the man’s name was Jasper. But he wasn’t interested in a lowly butler, his eye was on the prize of the day: the king.

“Yes, will I get to see the king soon? We have a scheduled meeting in ten minutes?” Reaver tapped his watch in irritation. “I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“Of course, sir. He’s waiting for you. Right this way.” Jasper gave a stiff bow before leading Reaver further into the castle. Reaver didn’t even take notice of the maids as he passed by them. His mind was focused on more important matters than debauching an innocent maid or two. Not even their giggles caught his attention.

Jasper led him to a set of closed doors. He opened one and motioned Reaver to go in ahead of him. As they entered, the king looked up from the 3D map of Albion laid out on the table in front of him. Behind him sat a pair of armchairs with a small coffee table in between. The walls of the room were filled with books. A short stack of them even sat on the large desk.

“Your Highness, Master Reaver has arrived.” Jasper announced.

Logan nodded. “Bring us some drinks, please.”

“Of course.” Jasper bowed out of the room.

Reaver gave his own half bow to the king while he tried to hide his scowl. Bowing to anyone felt like an insult, but he couldn’t screw this up. Logan didn’t notice Reaver’s distaste; he’d already turned and sat in one of plush armchairs. He gestured for Reaver to sit in the other one. Reaver complied as he swept his gaze over the king. He looked pale and a bit gaunt. Whatever trip he’d been on hadn’t done him any favors. The worry lines in his face made him look older than he was. He’d heard rumors that the king had been sick for a while following his trip and from the king’s looks, the trip and subsequent sickness had taken their toll.

“Hello and welcome. Let’s skip the small talk. I’m going to get right to the point of this meeting,” Logan spoke as he watched Reaver who nodded eagerly. “I’m looking to raise some funds and it has come to my attention that you are a very successful businessman. The best around in fact. Therefore, I’d like to become business partners of sorts.”

Reaver appreciated the king’s desire to get straight to business. Before he could say so, Jasper appeared with their drinks and left again as quietly as he’d come, leaving the tray and tea behind on the coffee table.

Reaver sipped at his drink, watching Logan from over the rim of it. Sitting it down, he put on his most charming smile. “Of course, Your Highness. It would be an honor to do business with you.”

Logan continued. “I will back your business and free up some of the land you’ve been after to build new factories. In return, I want a small cut of the profits.”

“What percentage of a cut are we talking about here?” Reaver struggled to keep his smile from fading.

“I want twenty percent of profits.”

That made Reaver’s smile fade. “If we are talking a long term business deal here, ten percent would be more than fair. That frees up more money for me to expand elsewhere and create more profits for the both of us, but expansion is expensive at first.”

“I’ll allow you to have input on future royal policies that would affect your business.” Logan kept a stony look on his face.

“I’m sure you will also be making a good chunk of change in taxes off of my business, so let’s call it fifteen percent and you have a deal.” Reaver hated to have to part with anything above ten percent, but negotiating with a king used to getting whatever he wanted was difficult. And like Logan, Reaver was also used to getting what he wanted. But unlike Logan, he knew how to go about it and take the time needed to get his desired end result.

Logan hesitated to negotiate. Ever the shrewd businessman, Reaver noticed and decided to take advantage of it.

“I think that when you see my profits, you will find that more than a fair number. Businesses are expensive to run you know and part of my profits go back into paying expenses and expanding Fifteen percent is a number that we can both be satisfied with. And the more I expand and the more profits I make, the more you get in taxes from me as well.”

“Do you think you can successfully expand with my backing?”

“Oh, of course! Right now I only have one factory but I want to build more. I’m also investing in other projects, not just here but across Albion as a whole. And one day I hope continue my expansion outside of Albion as well. I can do it, I just need time or expanding too fast will only make the business fail. But with a little bit of time I could double my profits if not more. Then we could both reap the rewards.”

“Fine,” Logan conceded. “You have a deal. Will you sign a contract on it?”

“Of course, whatever my liege desires of me.” Reaver smiled.

“Come sign it then.” Logan rose and went to the desk nestled near the wall. He wrote down the agreed upon percent and signed it. Then he gestured for Reaver to do the same and he complied. Reaver glanced around the room. Jasper had closed the door on his way out, leaving them alone. Perfect. He was more than willing to push his luck a little bit to get more out of the deal for himself down the road.

“Now Your Highness, I would also like to offer my services as an adviser if you ever need me. You might find that my business skills can come in handy when it comes to increasing profits, or in your case, filling up the royal coffer.” He gave a wolfish smile. “Anything to be of greater service to my king.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Logan arched an eyebrow at the business tycoon.

“Yes, well, I like to ask myself what I can do for my country sometimes.” Reaver headed back to the small table to retrieve his tea. With his body blocking the king’s view of their drinks, he stealthily unscrewed the lid to a small, glass bottle he pulled from his pocket. He tilted it, letting several drops splash into the king’s tea before he closed it back up and hid it in his pocket again. “May I sit back down?” He turned to Logan for permission.

“Of course.” Logan joined him, taking up his own seat again and reaching for his tea. As he drank it, Reaver watched with a smirk. Sure, the king might not be to his tastes appearance wise, but that wouldn’t make this conquest any less satisfying.

“Forgive me if I’m being too presumptuous, but I assume you are looking to increase revenue by making your deal with me. So I truly hope you will take my offer seriously because if the crown is hurting for money I could help solve that problem. Or if you merely want more to put back for a rainy day, I can do that too. Making money is what I do and I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.” Reaver licked his lips, eyeing up his king as though Logan were a tasty morsel to be eaten.

“I appreciate the sentiment. I may need to call on your services in the future. It has come to my attention that I need more funds for my army.” Logan was already starting to shift and squirm around in his seat. He kept repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his legs. Not only that, but his face was starting to flush, adding some color to his pallid face.

“Ah, yes well I can help whenever you need it. I’ve always been a supporter of the military. The proper funding for them is very important.”

Logan nodded. “Yes, it is. And like your expanding business I need to expand my army. Now, I’m afraid I am going to have to end our meeting here. I apologize, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” Logan picked up his tea and sipped at it.

Reaver put on a disappointed expression. “Oh? Your face does look a little red.” He stood up and set his hat down on the map table before approaching Logan and pressing his hand against his forehead. Logan jumped at Reaver’s touch, spilling some of his tea onto his lap.

“Oh my! You are a bit warm. And let me get that spill for you. You should stay seated if you don’t feel well.” Reaver grabbed a cloth napkin Jasper had put on the tray and dabbed at the spilled tea on Logan’s lap, moving lower and lower until he was touching the man’s groin.

In response, Logan bit back a gasp and wriggled in his seat.

“You spilled quite a bit, it may stain.” Reaver observed. He continued his rubbing with a wicked smile as the bulge in Logan’s pants grew larger. He was carful with his touches and switched to a slow up and down motion over the bulge. He could feel the bulge twitch in response as did one of Logan’s legs. Logan ground his teeth as he watched Reaver with a clouded expression.

“Please, allow me,” Reaver said as he tossed the napkin and grabbed for the clasps on Logan’s pants.

Logan started to protest but cut his words off with a gasp as Reaver’s hand wrapped around his erect member and began pumping. Reaver admired its girth. It was truly a cock fit for a king. Logan’s face was beat red now and Reaver smiled with satisfaction as Logan’s hands clamped down on his armrests, squeezing them so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t make much noise; then again any loud sound would likely send someone running in for help.

Reaver leaned down and flicked his tongue over the tip of the king’s member, earning a hiss through the king’s clenched teeth. Reaver ran his tongue down the length and back up before doing the same on the other side. He paused to lap up the precum leaking from the tip. Then, he slid the member into his mouth while holding onto the base of it with one hand. He slowly bobbed his head up and down, following the motion with his hand to increase the sensation.

Logan began panting. He bit back his moans. He released the armrests to rest one hand on Reaver’s shoulder and tangled the other in his hair. At that, Reaver hummed and that managed to finally tear a low moan from Logan. Reaver sped up, enjoying the small bucks the king’s hips gave.

“Faster,” Logan gasped out.

Reaver complied and quickened his pace as Logan tightened his grip on Reaver’s hair, causing a few pangs of pain to course through his scalp. It was enough to make Reaver’s own cock twitch at the sensation. Oh, he could just imagine how much fun he could have with the king in his playroom. Logan looked like a man who wouldn’t have any qualms about inflicting pain in the bedroom.

At first, the king’s orgasm surprised Reaver as the semen flooded his mouth. He swallowed it down. When the king finished spurting, Reaver wiped his mouth and reached for his own tea to wash away the salty taste. He drank it down then reached up to smooth down his messy hair.

“Now, I’ll be on my way before I take up too much of your time.” Reaver climbed to his feet and grabbed his hat, arranging it on top of his head. He gave Logan a low, sweeping bow.

Logan watched him with a half-lidded gaze. He hadn’t moved to tuck his cock back in and it still hung out of his pants and even soft, it retained an impressive girth. But as Reaver watched, it began to harden again, likely due to the powerful aphrodisiac Reaver had slipped in the tea. For the next hour, the king would likely be too busy in his bedroom to get anything else done.

“Feel free to contact me for financial assistance. Now, farewell, Your Highness.” Reaver turned on his heels and left without a single peep from Logan.

Reaver smirked to himself as he walked the castle halls. That’d been even easier than he thought. Now with some time for it to sink in, the king would likely come calling on him. They always did no matter the gender. And to have the king in his back pocket, how grand that would be!

But he’d done what he could to grab the king’s attention without going too far and crossing the line. Now all he could do was wait. Wait and see how long it took for the king to call on him again.

Chapter Text

“Like this?” The blond woman ran her hands over her naked chest in an attempt to be seductive. Instead her motions came off as clumsy with no confidence. “Do you like it?” She kneeled on the bed in between Reaver’s legs. She was naked save for her stockings that came to her thighs. Reaver had taken off his shirt, but not his pants. And the longer he sat there watching her, the less desire he felt to bother with them.
Reaver rolled his eyes. Why did he bother with her anymore? She was just fine to fuck when he had something else to keep him entertained, like his wheel of misfortune fights, but otherwise he found her dull. He liked innocent and naughty, but not innocent women who pretended and failed at acting naughty.

“My dear, I’m afraid you lack any sort of seduction charms. In fact, I’m baffled that you managed to reel in your husband. I’m also not surprised at all that’s he tired of you in the bedroom and having an affair with that wench of a barmaid. She’s quite the saucy thing, knows how to dirty talk a man. You, however, do not.” He gave her nose a tap to ensure that she’d heard him.

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. Her lips trembled and she began to tear up. “You’re so cruel, Reaver!”

Reaver ignored her and climbed off the bed. He picked his shirt up from where he’d tossed it onto a chair and tugged it back on. She may have been a waste but he still had the evening yet, he had time to find a new partner.

“Go on and get out of here.” He shooed her out of her room, scoffing at her tears and giving her no time to finish dressing. He dumped her clothes out into the hallway along with her before shutting the door again. With that little issue taken care of, he took his time in front of his tall mirror, brushing his hair and making sure he looked perfect. When he finished, he strolled to his study, thinking over his options for the evening and his last encounter with the king.

Ever since he returned from the visit with the king, he couldn’t get the man out of his mind. What would it be like to add such a jewel to his collection of bed partners? Surely as the king Logan would carry much more confidence than that dull blond. He wouldn’t be as clumsy or hesitant. He’d know what he wanted and how he wanted it. The fun they could have in Reaver’s playroom sounded too good to pass up, but it’d been two months with no word from Logan. Had he not been clear enough on his invitation? Had he failed at capturing the king’s attention?

He sat at his large desk. A stack of papers sat in one corner, the rest of the desk sat empty. He didn’t like messes and made sure to keep his desk immaculate. He didn’t want to lose any important business papers or letters or even anything personal for that matter. Organization had always been key to his business success. He opened the top drawer and pulled out his copy of the contract he’d signed with the king. What should he have done differently?

“Master Reaver,” Barry lisped his name. “The king is requesting an audience. He’s waiting in the parlor.”

The corners of Reaver’s mouth curled up. “Send him in here. And fetch us some refreshments; bring some of that red wine I had you open last night.”

“Yes, master.” Barry scampered off to fulfill his master’s wishes. Reaver grinned at his retreating form. It was about high time the king finally acknowledged him again and followed up on their last meeting. He’d certainly taken long enough. Reaver had been starting to think he’d have to be the one to break the silence between them, something he felt loathe to do. He needed to make the king want him and that meant making him come crawling to Reaver, not the other way around.

A minute later the king appeared in the doorway, his gaze darting about the room suspiciously before finally settling on Reaver. He dressed elegantly but not too lavishly. He still looked pale, but a little less sickly this time.

“My liege.” Reaver stood and gave him a sweeping bow. “I’m honored to have you as a guest. Shall we sit?” He waved to the sofa sitting in front of the fireplace.
Without saying a single word, Logan sat.

Reaver joined him, smiling when Barry brought the wine. Reaver had him leave the bottle behind and dismissed him, ordering him to close the door behind him. “So, what do I owe this visit to? Do you have matters you wish to discuss?”

The king’s gaze flicked from the fireplace to Reaver. He wore no emotions on his face; then again he certainly didn’t seem like the type to wear his emotions openly. That wouldn’t do for royalty.

“No business matters. I’m here to visit with you.” His gaze switched to the portrait of Reaver hanging above the fireplace. “I thought I should get to know you better. With the contract I’ve made, I thought we should get more comfortable with each other. It will make future business matters easier.”

“Oh, of course. I agree completely!” Reaver sipped at his glass of wine, watching as the king swirled it about his glass before taking a sip. “I hope you like it, it’s a foreign wine, I brought it back with me from my last business trip.”

“It’s good,” Logan replied, keeping his voice smooth and emotionless. To the untrained eye he looked bored, but Reaver knew better. The king was just being careful, trying to figure Reaver out without giving too much away about himself. “I’ve heard that you are quite the traveler.”

“I am rather fond of it. There is just something about seeing a new culture or trying a new food that gives me a thrill. Learning and experiencing the world is never a bad thing.”
Logan nodded, his gaze holding steady on Reaver.

Reaver smiled at him, turning toward him and resting his elbow on the back on the sofa. “My liege, what would you like to know about me? You’ve already gotten a peek inside my humble abode. If you have any other curiosities, please, allow me to quench them for you.”

“I assure you, with the gossip that goes on at court I already know more than I need to about you.”

Reaver’s brow knitted. “So they gossip about me then?” He tried to sound interested, as if though that wasn’t something he was more than aware of. He was Reaver, everyone gossiped about him.
“Incessantly. Although you certainly seem to provide more than enough fodder.”

Reaver smirked. “What can I say? I’m a very interesting man.”

“I think many would prefer to call you a deviant.”

“Well they are just envious that I don’t allow inhibitions to get in the way of enjoying life. Uptight morals certainly take some of the fun out of living. But if you already know so much about me, then there must be another reason for your visit, my Liege. Pray tell what it is.”

Logan watched him for a long moment before answering. “Curiosity. A desire to see the man behind the stories. I haven’t had a chance to speak with you much and when you hear so many stories about one man, it certainly sets the imagination on fire.”

“You want to know which stories are true and which are just made up embellishments, don’t you?” Reaver grinned like a kid in a candy store. How perfect to have the king here and brimming with curiosity. Reaver thought he could detect a glimmer of hope in the king’s eyes. “Let me show you something.” Reaver stood, gesturing for the king to follow.

The king downed his glass of wine before rising to follow after Reaver who led him into the bedroom. Reaver approached his secret door and threw it open with a flourish.
“Welcome to my play room, a chamber devoted to seduction and pleasure.” He gave a low bow. “After you, Your Highness.”

Once they reached the room itself, Logan stood in silence in the middle of it, looking about him. Reaver watched him, waiting for any reaction at all, but the king didn’t look fazed in the slightest. But he was a king and it took more than a room full of kink toys to cause a reaction in someone raised to hide their emotions.

“Impressive.” Logan finally broke their silence. “I hadn’t expected the sex room to be true, but one never knows when you may be surprised.”

Reaver crept closer to the king, standing behind him so close that he was nearly touching him. He leaned forward to whisper into the king’s ear. “See anything you’d like to try out, my liege?” He had to admit, he hadn’t thought it would be quite so easy. But the king had tested his patience with the long wait. It was high time that his plan came to fruition.

“Get on the bed,” Logan growled. Surprised at the sudden chance in demeanor, Reaver hesitated. Before he could answer, Logan wrapped an arm about him, pulling him to it. As Reaver stood beside the bed, glancing at Logan in curiosity, the king reached out and ripped open his Reaver’s shirt, sending buttons popping off and onto the floor.

“My, my, my,” Reaver murmured with a smirk. Then he found himself shoved down and onto the bed with an oomph.

Logan followed after him, grabbing his wrists and pulling him up. A quick second later and he secured Reaver’s wrists in the shackles on the headboard. The king kneeled over him, staring down at him with that gaze that would have intimidated anyone else, but not Reaver.

It had been too long since Reaver found his equal in the bedroom, someone who could make him submit. Just thinking about what was to come made him hard. And by the look in the king’s pants, he felt the same way. Reaver bucked his hips up, rubbing his bulge against the leg planted between his own.

“This is why I’m here,” the king lowered his voice, each word becoming huskier than the last. “To remind you who serves who. A man like you is not used to answering to anyone else, and so I shall force you into submission.”

“I look forward to it,” Reaver purred.

The king answered him by reaching out and undoing Reaver’s pants. Then, he pulled his shoes off, tossing them over his shoulder and onto the floor. He grasped at his pants, pulling them off, lifting Reaver’s ass up and off the bed in the process. At Reaver’s naked form, he raised an eyebrow. “No under garments?”

“When I’m spending a day at home I find it freeing to forgo them now and again.” Reaver wiggled his hips invitingly. A smirk formed on his lips and he gave the king a sultry look. “So what now, My Liege? Are you going to have your way with me? Teach me to bow to your command? Hmm?”

The king crashed his lips down upon Reaver’s. Reaver eagerly parted his lips, letting the king explore his mouth with his tongue. When the kiss broke, Logan produced a piece of cloth.
Reaver frowned at it. “Where did you get that from?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Logan dismissed the question as he turned the piece of cloth into a blind fold, tying it around Reaver’s head. Logan left the bed for a short moment before returning, the mattress sinking under his weight. “Get on your knees and hold onto the headboard.”

“And if I refuse?”

Logan cracked a riding crop against Reaver’s skin, earning a yelp from him and leaving behind a red mark.

Reaver complied, the shackles jangling as he moved.

“Consider this a lesson in obedience.” Logan cracked the riding crop against Reaver’s ass, earning a moan this time. “Disobey me and I will have you locked up in the castle dungeon. There will be no luxuries there, no comforts. And I will take you like a dirty, used whore as many times as I please.” He cracked the riding crop against Reaver’s ass again. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Once more Logan hit him with the riding crop.

“My liege,” Reaver gasped out.

“Good boy,” Logan purred as he reached out to rub at the red marks marring Reaver’s ass. “I always make sure to reward loyal subjects.” He leaned down to kiss Reaver’s shoulders. “Now stay in that position for me.” He ran his hands down Reaver’s sides before fondling his ass. He reached around he slid a cock ring onto Reaver’s member.

Reaver groaned at that. “You aim to torment me, don’t you?”

The king laughed, surprising Reaver. It sounded happier than Reaver thought the man capable of sounding with his gloomy appearance.

“Being King comes with many privileges, and this is one of them. Although I must say I’m rather envious of this room. I may have to build one of my own. And as King I expect you to be willing to entertain me whenever I see fit to stop by. Now tell me, where is the lubrication?”

“Nightstand drawer. Either one.”

The bed shifted under Logan’s weight. With his sight gone, Reaver listened intently to the other man’s movements. He certainly appreciated the king’s confidence, especially after the disappointment his little blond play thing of earlier turned out to be. He let out a relieved hiss when he felt a lubed finger push into him. It wiggled around before being joined by a second. The king worked him with his fingers with one hand and reached around with the other to stroke him.

Reaver mewled at the sensation. His breathing deepened as the king quickened the strokes, gripping him tighter. The king continued preparing him, stretching him with his fingers. Reaver clenched his teeth. The damned cock ring wouldn’t let him cum even if he wanted to.

“Tell me you want my cock inside you like a good subject,” Logan whispered.

“I want you to enter me and fuck me senseless,” Reaver bit out.

“One more thing first.” Logan turned him around. “Suck me. Show me your loyalty.” Logan kneeled in front of him, pushing him down. Once Reaver’s mouth was at the correct level Logan brushed himself against Reaver’s lips.

Reaver flicked his tongue out, brushing over the tip. Then he opened his mouth wider, pulling the king’s cock further into his mouth. He grunted as the king began to thrust into his mouth. With his hands bound he was at the other man’s mercy as the king forced himself in deep. Reaver stayed compliant, admiring the king’s girth as he fucked Reaver’s mouth.

After a short minute the king pulled away. “Back the way you were, on your knees. Use the headboard for support.” He reached out and gave Reaver’s ass a slap as he got into position.

Reaver was powerless to do anything but wait. The king’s clothes brushed against him, making him fully aware that he was the only one unclothed. He let out a relieved sigh when he felt the king press against his entrance. He couldn’t help but to muse that this certainly didn’t seem to be anywhere near the king’s first time with another man. Perhaps that was why the king still remained unwed, because he was more interested in pretty princes instead of princesses. And he may not have even caught Logan off guard the first time like he thought, the king may have expected it and played along.

“Just because I let you take charge the first time doesn’t mean I’ll allow it often. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.” Logan bit Reaver’s neck as he slid the rest of the way in, earning a long moan from Reaver.

“You didn’t put a condom on,” Reaver gasped out as the realization hit him. He never let another man take him without one despite taking such good care of his own hygiene.

“King’s privilege.” Logan smirked against his neck. You’re my subject. You’re mine and I shall claim you as such. I’ll come inside this pretty ass of yours as much as I wish.” He cut off any protests from Reaver as he began thrusting, making it impossible for Reaver to bring himself to do anything but pant and moan. The thrusts became faster and harder until the king was practically slamming Reaver against the headboard. Reaver moved his hips in sync with the Logan’s movements. Logan continued the frantic pace while Reaver put his weight against the headboard.

Reaver felt an urge to pin Logan down and take him instead. But with the shackles he could do nothing but accept whatever Logan offered him. The king’s frantic pace created a pang of pain for Reaver, but he relished the way it mixed with the pleasure. He’d be sore later but right now he didn’t care. He found himself shivering with pleasure as Logan changed his angle, hitting the bundle of nerves that made Reaver mewl.

“If you want to be allowed to come, you have to beg me for it.” Logan nipped at Reaver’s neck, adding to the previous marks that wouldn’t be disappearing anytime soon.

“Yes, please, my liege,” Reaver panted. “Have mercy.”

The king continued his forceful thrusting as he reached around to stroke Reaver.

“P-Please.” He twitched in the king’s hand. No one had made him beg in such a shameless way in a long time.

The king buried himself as far as he could before stilling. Reaver gasped as he felt the king’s release surge inside him. In one quick motion the king released Reaver from the cock ring. Free from the toy, Reaver came in one long shudder, spurting his cum onto the king’s hand. Both of them stayed still for a long minute, the king leaning against Reaver’s back. It didn’t end until the king finally broke the embrace, moving to release Reaver from his shackles and grab a towel from the nightstand to clean his hand with.

With his wrists red and sore, Reaver rubbed them as he sunk onto his back, ripping off his blind fold. He lounged, gazing up at the king who moved to sit in front of him. Reaver could feel a small trickle of cum leaking out of him and dribbling down his leg. He ignored it, keeping his gaze trained on the king. Now this was a king Reaver could respect and serve. No other in his opinion deserved to wear the crown. If the king wanted his loyalty he’d have it, at least until he quit bedding him. And if he wanted to think he could control Reaver, he’d let him entertain that silly notion for the time being. The king didn’t realize he was playing with fire and getting attached to Reaver could very well be his ruin. But that wasn’t Reaver’s problem. He’d profit from the king like he did everyone else he slept with. He jutted his hips up and toward the king.

Logan tilted his head, watching Reaver with interest.

“Would my King like to go another round? I can’t have you walking away until you’re sated or I would be an unworthy subject.”

In response Logan let out a growl and grabbed Reaver’s hips, his fingers digging into the skin. Logan lifted him up, getting the angle right for easy penetration. Reaver draped his legs over the king’s shoulders, more than pleased by the man’s eagerness to go again. Reaver guessed he’d certainly been right about one thing: the king hadn’t been getting laid enough. But luckily for Logan, Reaver could change that.

Chapter Text

Reaver watched Logan polish off the last bite of his dessert, one Reaver had ordered to be prepared specially for the king’s visit. He couldn’t help but to notice that the king looked worse than ever. It looked like he’d lost weight recently. Not surprising since their last bedroom meeting had been rather lackluster with Logan’s low energy. But he was eating more this time. He may have only taken a few bites of everything else, but he’d eaten dessert with a little more enthusiasm.

Still, Reaver couldn’t help but to think tonight would be just as lackluster as their last foray. No need to focus on the charm in that case. Best to get other issues out of the way, ones Reaver had been stewing over for almost a week now. He’d save the extra charm for their next meeting.

“Younger siblings are often troublesome, I’d keep an eye out if I were you.”

“I am keeping an eye out. You don’t need to worry about my personal affairs, Reaver.”

“You consider barging in on a business meeting in the throne room and yelling that you need to quit lining your pockets with gold and help your subjects nothing to worry about? Oh, and let’s not forget that little suggestion to have me executed for treason due to corruption.” Reaver squeezed his cane as he remembered the little debacle from the previous week. “I’ve even had protestors showing up at my manor gates.”
Logan sat his fork down with a loud clatter. “It won’t happen again, you have my word on it. I thought I came here to discuss business, or should I just leave?”

Reaver resisted rolling his eyes. Logan always refused to discuss issues that didn’t relate directly to business. He typically preferred to stick to business matters himself as well. Business partners who yammered on and on about their personal lives always made his hand itch to grab his gun, but in this case, he feared personal issues could start to interfere with his business dealings and he couldn’t be having that. He may not be sailing the seas as a feared pirate anymore, he’d chosen the different route of piracy called capitalism, but it’d done him even better than his pirate days had. He’d become a household name across Albion. Besides the king, he was the wealthiest man in Albion and it’d only taken him a few strategic business contracts with Logan to get there as well as some of the old Reaver charm.
Reaver tapped his cane against the ground and Barry rushed over, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.

“Yes, Mastah Weaver,” he lisped.

“Grab the contract. It’s sitting in the middle of my desk.”

Reaver took his gaze away from his royal guest as Barry took off. He took a bite out of his half-eaten dessert, savoring the sweetness. It’d been a surprise to find out that Logan didn’t like chocolate or any kind of nuts, but to his chef that had been no challenge at all. So far, his chef had yet to repeat a single dish on the king’s visits. If Reaver was a more generous man, he’d consider giving the worker a raise. But, he wasn’t a generous man.

“It’s all ready for you to sign. It follows the terms we discussed last time. You sell me the piece of property, and I build another factory and give you a share of the profits. It’ll pay you way more than the rent you currently get off of it.”

“Good.” Logan gave a nod and moved his dishes away.

Barry appeared with the roll of parchment along with a quill and ink bottle. He handed it to Reaver before bowing and backing away.

Reaver unfurled the paper with a flourish and sat it down in front of Logan. He watched as the king read it, noticing the way his forehead crinkled and that dark, troubled look entered his eyes. He recognized that look. It was the look of a man with a conscience debating over doing something he didn’t want to do. He always got that look when it came to signing contracts with Reaver. The citizens of Albion thought of Logan as a ruthless tyrant, but Reaver knew that couldn’t be entirely true. He had yet to find a piece to the puzzle explaining the king’s willingness to work with Reaver, a piece that’d been bothering him.
Logan signed the paper.

“There’s a second copy below it. I want one for my own records, as usual.”

With a frown, Logan signed the second one.

“Thank you,” Reaver grabbed his copy, giving the signature a quick once-over. Satisfied, he smiled and rubbed the king’s thigh.

“Shall we retire to my chambers for a bit of celebration?”

“No. I can’t this time. I’m too tired.”

Reaver let his smile drop as he removed his hand and sat back in his seat. “That is rather disappointing.” He sipped at his wine to hide his annoyance.

“My health hasn’t been doing so well lately. Next time.”

“What should we do then, talk?” His words came out sounding more sarcastic than he meant. Reaver froze a moment then put his smile back on. “I hear you’re good at telling stories about your travels. I’ve been dying to hear about your trip to Aurora. I’ve been extremely lucky to make your acquaintance after the trip, yet I’ve never gotten to hear about it.”

“There’s nothing to say about it, that’s why you haven’t heard anything.” Logan finished off his wine in one long gulp.

“Nothing at all? Surely you have something interesting to say about it. I went on a treasure expedition myself there once. Found a few relics and a bunch of ruins. Did you get to see any of that yourself?”
Logan met Reaver’s gaze this time. “Nothing noteworthy. A waste of time, really. It kept me away for nothing.”

Reaver listened closely to the king. He met that intense stare of Logan’s who wasn’t just meeting his gaze but trying to stare Reaver down. He had to be lying. The way his hand twitched on the stem of the wine glass showed nervousness. So he really must be hiding something about Aurora. He knew what the king had decreed when he came back, but Reaver had met the people of Aurora himself once, and he’d heard their legends. The king had stayed away from Reaver until that little trip. He’d denied every attempt Reaver made to do business before then.

“You know I met an interesting man once. Horrible sense of fashion, but he told some grand tales about Aurora. I think he may have a bit of a drinking problem but I can’t blame him there. That tavern had some of the finest mead I’ve ever tasted. In one of his drunken ramblings the man mentioned myths of shadow creatures.”

The king stiffened at that. Mystery solved then. Reaver would just have to find out the fine details another time after two or so bottles of wine since he figured Logan would try to change the subject any time now.

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“That’s what I thought.” Reaver leaned his head against his hand, letting his elbow rest against the table.

“You said protestors were here. I’ve gotten a few at the palace. I didn’t realize they’d been protesting elsewhere as well.”

And there was that change of topic. “They’ve been protesting at my factories. They seem to think I might pay them more mind if they protest outside of my house. It usually only takes one shot in the air to send them all running like cowards. They’re useless the lot of them. Just taking up space and leeching off whoever is stupid enough to pity them enough to give them food.”

“They’ll give up eventually.”

“We can only hope.” Reaver toyed with his wine glass, turning it about in his hand. “Have I told you how dashing you look in that outfit? I bet it’s enough to send even the most righteous of your maids begging for a go at your cock.”

Logan cleared his throat at that. The usual amusement or embarrassment such comments usually received didn’t appear. Quite the pity in Reaver’s opinion. It made the king much more entertaining.

“I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to have to cut this visit short. I have a meeting with my advisors first thing in the morning. We’ll have dinner at the palace next time.”

“Of course.” Reaver tapped his cane against the ground. “Barry, get William to escort the king to his carriage.”

“That’s not necessary. I can go myself, my driver is waiting.”

“It’s always prudent to be safe when your royalty. You’d only be the third ruler to be deposed of by a younger sibling. I believe the last one meant his end via poisoned tea if I remember correctly.”

“Thank you for dinner.” Logan stood up hastily and Reaver stood as well.

“I look forward to the next one.”

Logan took a step towards the doorway as William appeared in it.

Reaver reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. “Don’t forget I can always find a way to profit. Even in the wake of misfortunate accidents. Once again I suggest keeping an eye on that sibling of yours.”

“Goodbye, Reaver.” Logan strolled out, his head held high, but his back stiff.

Reaver sat back down to finish off his glass of wine. He’d originally expected to have the king tied to the posts of his bed by now. “Such a spoilsport.” Another night ruined by whatever demons the king fought.
The tapping of shoes against the floor alerted Reaver to William’s return.

“Did you really just suggest that you’d overthrow the king?”

“Not so fast there, dear boy.” Reaver waggled a finger. “Always thinking the worst of me, but for once, it isn’t so. The king might get overthrown, but I won’t be the one doing the overthrowing. Tell me, what’s the name of that bouncy maid you’ve wooed? The one with the black curls and cleavage that I wouldn’t mind burying my face and something else in?”

William gritted his teeth. “Her name is Rina.”

“Well then tomorrow you get that cute little backside of yours up to the castle. I hear her father died, I’m sure she could do with some comforting in the form of her being bent over a bed. And while you’re at it, find out what you can about that little royal running around and causing Logan trouble. You have two days or I’ll feed you to the balverines.”

“You’re worried. Normally you would have insisted more on the king staying longer.”

“I don’t think the king is fully aware of how precarious his situation is. I’ll admit that part of turning Bowerstone into that muck filled sewer that it is has been due to my hand in things. But the king is the one who’ll bear the brunt of the anger over it.”

“He’s a tyrant, why would he care?”

Reaver stood, towering over William even without his hat. “I think he’s hiding something. He has too much of a conscience to by a tyrant by choice. Unfortunately, that wench of a sibling probably won’t be as susceptible to my tactics. I’d prefer to keep our great king on the throne. So remember, two days.”

“What if he did get overthrown, what would you do then?”

Reaver sighed. “Then I’ll just have to turn my charms on high for our new leader. You’re dismissed for the night.” He began walking toward the staircase.

“No sex tonight?”

Reaver stopped and turned around. His face lacked his usual smirk. “This is going to shock you to pieces, but I have other things on my mind tonight. It takes more than sex to keep a business going.” Reaver continued on his way and William didn’t make another peep as he slipped off toward the servant quarters. Barry had disappeared off somewhere, but Reaver didn’t care about that. He didn’t need him right now.
Reaver tossed his cane onto his bed as he continued to his balcony overlooking the lake. He took a deep breath as he opened the glass doors. A full moon hung in the sky, unobscured. Stars dotted the sky with black patches where clouds inched across the sky. The wind carried a slight chill, but out here he didn’t have to worry about the putrid smell of Bowerstone. The air was still fresh and crisp, unspoiled by his grand factories and their filthy workers. The lake couldn’t match the ocean, but he liked having some water nearby, even if it did stir up ocean longings from time to time.

Below, a figure ran across the road and pounced on something near the water’s edge, sending ducks flying away with loud honks of protest. The balverine lifted its head and turned in Reaver’s direction. It bent its legs, prepare to jump, but Reaver whipped out his gun and got it right in between the eyes before it could.

“That’ll teach you to try and bite Barry, you furry bastard.” He slid his gun away while he considered whether or not the king would suspect him if a certain young royal went missing. Even Reaver knew certain lines needed to be walked carefully. He usually refrained from getting involved in royal coups, but he just may have to make an exception this time if it came down to that. He certainly wasn’t about to let some little brat ruin the business empire he’d built.

He watched as the ducks the balverine had scared off landed back in the lake, sending ripples across the reflection of the moon. He wrapped his hands around the balcony railing, squeezing them.
“Mastah, can I get you anything?” Barry’s voice interrupted his solitude.

Reaver whipped around and strolled back inside while Barry watched him from the middle of the room. Reaver shut the doors to prevent any unwanted balverines from getting inside. Once had been enough to learn that lesson. He didn’t bother to ask where Barry had been. Knowing him he’d been off cleaning himself in case he got lucky enough to get into Reaver’s bed, a rare occurrence, but oh didn’t Barry like to try.
“Bend over the side of my bed.” Reaver grabbed his cane again, watching as his servant dutifully obeyed. With a quick smack, he cracked the cane against Barry’s ass, earning a yelp. Reaver whacked him again. This time Barry let out a hiss of pain followed by a groan. Reaver waited a beat before whacking him one last time. He leaned the cane against a chair before reaching out and grabbing Barry by the hair to tug him back into a standing position.

“Mastah?” Barry stared down at the bed, if not for the bulge in his pants Reaver may have mistaken his heavy breathing for fear.

“Look at you, you get off on my abuse, don’t you?” He grinded himself against Barry. He let out a hum. “Such a good servant.” He let go of Barry and plopped down on the bed, holding his feet up off the ground. “Take my shoes off.” He watched with a smile as Barry complied, kneeling down and sliding the shoes off gently as if they were made of glass. Barry wore a small, content smile of his own as he worked. Barry might not be the brightest, but he was loyal, something Reaver prized in his servants. Barry had stuck with him longer than anyone else.

Reaver leaned back, ready to enjoy the show. Barry touched Reaver carefully, almost reverently. Barry was the servant and Reaver his god, just like Reaver preferred. He might not be able to count on the king outside of business matters, but at least for the time being he still had his most faithful servant. He hadn’t been lying to William, he didn’t feel much in the mood when he had planning to worry about. But blowing off some steam might get him in the mood. It might clear up his mind, make it easier to think afterward.

Before Reaver became Reaver, he’d had younger siblings of his own to deal with and he knew they weren’t to be underestimated. The king was torn between his affection for his sibling and playing the cold tyrant. Reaver could see the cracks opening up in the king, ones that whispered he might not be strong enough to stay on the path he’d been going down. And if he changed his mind and let that little royal whisper in his ear too much, that could spell bad news for Reaver. He needed a fallback plan. Over the years he’d learned to only trust himself and not rely on others to always pull through on their end, even business partners. He knew to always plan ahead and have fallback plans, or even escape routes to allow himself to regroup.

Barry kneeled between Reaver’s feet, waiting for further instructions. As Reaver met his gaze, Barry lowered his to the floor. Reaver leaned forward to run a hand through Barry’s ginger locks. He’d never understand why his servant enjoyed his abuse so much, but at least it gave Reaver an outlet.

“Barry, get my whip.” He smiled at how fast Barry moved. He just might have to get himself in the mood to give his loyal servant a reward and worry about the king later. Besides, no matter what happened, he was Reaver, and Reaver always prevailed.

Chapter Text

The bottle sitting on Reaver’s desk was already a third gone. He knew as soon as he’d woken that it would be one of those kinds of days. At least he’d managed to get some breakfast in before he started drinking. But those nightmares about Wraithmarsh were never easily forgotten. They served as a haunting reminder that even if he was Reaver now, he hadn’t always been Reaver, and he couldn’t change that. He hated making those trips to the marsh, and even worse hated knowing it would be time for another trip soon. And now with this little royal brat situation, he just might have to open a second bottle after dinner.

“Are you absolutely sure, William?” Reaver leaned back in his desk chair, watching William, who stood straight and stiff on the other side of the desk.

“Yes. I heard the same story from two maids. The whole castle is whispering about it. The young royal is gone, possibly off gathering an army. Those who don’t support the king are hoping for an uprising. They want to put the prince on the throne.”

Reaver skipped his glass to sip straight from the bottle. He didn’t speak until he sat the bottle back down again. “Let’s act as though this information is true, since it could be the worst case scenario. You have mercenary experience, I need you to gather others up and go hunting the brat down. King Logan gives me freedom with my factories; I know that damn brat won’t. We need to squash this situation before it gets even farther. I’m not foolish enough to rely on the king to take care of it. He’s already failed.” He paused, his gaze darting to the window where a light rain had started falling. The sound made him think of the marsh and he shivered. What he wouldn’t give to forget the sound of the screams as the wind howled and the rain whipped at his face. Especially her screams.

“The king isn’t as soft anymore. All of Bowerstone is talking about the group of protestors he executed. He’s well on his way to becoming a true tyrant now.”

“It’s only been three weeks since I’ve seen him. I just figured he was holed up in that castle sick, not getting a personality makeover.”

“The maids report he’s in better health now.” William stared at the bottle, but Reaver didn’t offer him any. “They say he is angry a lot, moody. He’s different than he used to be.”

Reaver shooed him off with a hand. “Go track the brat down. Even mercenaries will follow where the money leads and I have more than enough of it.”

“Yes, sir.” William cast one last longing look at the bottle of booze.

“And William.”

“Yes, sir?”

“That vest with that coat, really? I thought you had better fashion sense than that. Have I not taught you anything? You’ll never be able to woo Benjamina back dressed like that.”

William pursed his lips into a tight line, likely holding back a retort. He’d made a few love ovations to Benjamina lately, but she was still too obsessed with Reaver. “I’ll gather some mercenaries right away, sir.” William left before Reaver could make any more jabs at him.

Reaver considered filling his glass again then thought better of it. He’d give himself a few hours to think and recover. Then he’d make a trip to visit the king and hear the latest news for himself. Logan really should have locked the brat up and threw away the key. But forcing the young royal to choose between his love or a group of innocent lives, now that was cruelty Reaver could admire. But Reaver figured whatever lesson the king intended to come from it had been lost. Sometimes you had to go a subtler route, something the king clearly did not understand. Leave it to an ex-pirate to do what the king couldn’t.

None of the castle servants looked Reaver in the eye, but that wasn’t anything new. He felt a little more like himself now that he’d gotten dressed up to come here. However, he couldn’t help but to feel a little miffed that the king hadn’t come to greet him.

“He’s in the map room, sir,” A redheaded maid said as she stared at her feet.

“Thank you. Maybe you and I can have some private time when I’m done with the king.” Reaver winked and the maid rushed off with a blush tinting her cheeks.

The rest of the servants dashed into other rooms to get out of Reaver’s path as he walked down the hallway. Apparently they hadn’t forgotten him threatening to shoot the gardener for getting dirt on Reaver’s shoes during his last trip to the castle.

When he reached his destination, the king stood over the map of Albion, staring down at it with a crease in his forehead. He still looked overly pale, but less gaunt than the last time Reaver had seen him. His posture looked tense and he scowled down at the map of Albion, tapping at the landmass of Aurora.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.” Once Logan looked up from the map, Reaver gave him a sweeping bow.

Logan frowned at Reaver.

“What? No relieved smile? Not happy to see me?” Reaver strode into the room, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He gave the map a quick glance before he situated himself in one of the armchairs.

“One guess as to why you’re here. You really have spies everywhere, don’t you?” The king frowned, the crease on his forehead deepening.

Reaver tsked. “I never tell my secrets. So, do you know where the young scamp has run off to yet?”

Logan scowled down at the map before taking a seat in the armchair beside Reaver. “There’s no need to worry about it, he isn’t a threat. He is too naïve. He’ll get himself killed or come crying back home.”

“You forget the other factors. The people aren’t happy with you or me. They’d follow him in an uprising in a heartbeat and give him the tools he needs for it. I want you to send soldiers to hunt him down. I already have mercenaries on it. We need to find him before this gets out of hand.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth turned up in a sort of half-finished smile. “I already have. Unfortunately, he didn’t run off alone, he had help. Damn good help too. I’ll be sorry when I have to execute them.”

“Who?”

“The butler and Walter.”

Well that explained the butler’s absence. “I bet that betrayal stings. Take your revenge once you’ve tracked them all down and have taken them prisoner.”

“Tracking them shouldn’t take long. There’s only three of them, I’m not worried about them causing too much of a ruckus.”

Reaver tilted his head toward the king, watching his every move. If Logan noticed, he didn’t care. “I heard you’ve been practicing your swordplay again. If you aren’t worried about the young prince, then what are you preparing for?”

“There are greater things at stake than my naïve brother gathering a failed revolution.” He stood again to go back to the map, his gaze go directly to the landmass at the edge of the map.

“Aurora? You said you found nothing notable there. You’re hiding something, and I’ve already told you I can’t give you my full backing unless I know what is going on. So tell me, Your Majesty,” Reaver bit the words out with a harsh tone. “What is going on with Aurora?”

Logan stiffened. “A possible invasion that is a bigger threat than my brother, and that’s all I will tell you.”

Reaver rose out of his chair and approached the king. “You want to find ways to make more money, always more money. And you are growing an army of your own. If you want to fight a coming invasion, details would be useful. I could help. I have enough money to hire all of the mercenaries in Albion and then some.”

Logan wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’ve been to Aurora before. The people living in those dying lands would never be in any shape to perform an invasion on the mainland of Albion. So what is really going on? You’re hiding things and I want to know the truth.”

“I already told you.”

“Fear drives you.” Reaver circled around the map table. “I can see it now in your eyes” He tapped on Bowerstone to draw Logan’s attention, and then on Aurora.”Your gaze changes, and fear comes when you look at Aurora. You’re not as strong as the façade you are putting on and fear can only drive desperation so far, my dear king. If you don’t tell me the truth, you risk losing my support. So tell me, what are you preparing for?” Reaver’s hand twitched with the desire to grab his gun, but threatening the king with it wouldn’t be the best decision he could make.

Logan met his gaze this time, but his eyes and face stayed blank, devoid of anything. “Albion is mine. I won’t let anyone else take it. Not my brother, and not anything from Aurora. If my brother aims for a revolution, I will be ready for him. If an invasion comes from Aurora, I will be ready for that, too.”

Reaver trailed a finger down Logan’s face. “I wonder what’s gotten into you lately. You’ve gone through so many changes since your trip to Aurora. I only wish you could be more truthful with me. We’ve had so much fun in bed, and now you’re pulling away from me, the one person you need most.”

Logan’s blank face turned into a scowl. “You don’t rule me, and you certainly don’t rule Albion.”

“That’s only what you think.”

“Get out,” Logan’s words came out barely above a whisper.

“Pity. I can only hope you come to your senses soon. Without me, you’ll crumble.”

“Get out,” Logan said it louder this time with a more commanding tone behind his words.

Reaver rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “Tatty-bye, Your Majesty” He gave a wave as he spoke. When he looked back at the king before closing the door, he only looked at the king’s frame hunched over the map before a quick moment before continuing on his way. The people may have thought Reaver had turned their king into a true tyrant, but Reaver only played a part in that. Something else had finished the job off for him. The king was scared of someone or something, and it very well may drive him mad.

Reaver debated over whether or not he had the time to make a trip to Aurora to do some digging around himself, but with the young prince possibly gathering a force, of rebels, he couldn’t risk being gone for too long. If the king was becoming a lost cause, then perhaps it was time to test the young mettle of the prince. See which one of them cracked under pressure first, see which one of them was truly worthy of the crown. Would the king handle the rebellion? And the young prince, could he truly rise up in a revolution against his brother? This could be more interesting and amusing than Reaver originally planned. Why not find a way to turn this annoyance into entertainment? As long as Reaver came out of it intact, he didn’t care who took the crown in the end. He’d outlive both of them either way.

“So now he fears being poisoned?”Reaver asked Barry who sat on the floor at his feet like a happy puppy. Reaver meanwhile sipped at his cup of tea in his comfortable armchair.

“The maids said he’s become extremely paranoid. And he doesn’t like the dark. He demands his room be kept lit up all night.” Even Barry’s stutter didn’t dim the importance of that information.

“So he’s afraid of the darkness. That’s new since Aurora.” But how did it connect to that place? All the changes started after that visit. Reaver just needed to find the right clues. He wasn’t one to let a good mystery go unsolved, especially when it meant such drastic changes in the king.

“Yesterday he threw a plate of food at a maid and accused her of trying to poison him.”

“Paranoid then. He thinks someone is out to get him.” Reaver sat his cup of tea down. A flicker of an old legend fluttered somewhere in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He frowned, annoyed at not being able to latch onto it.

“I’m going to clean up then pay the king a visit. Pack an overnight bag for me.”

“Yes, Master. Are you sure you need to go right now?” Barry gazed up at him with his best puppy dog expression.

Reaver ran a finger up the side of Barry’s face. “When I get back, I’ll shackle you to my bed. Have my playroom cleaned in my absence. I want it sparkling when I get back.”
“Of course, Master Reaver.”

Reaver grabbed Barry’s chin and pulled him up into a rough kiss. Barry knew enough to not fight Reaver for dominance. “I’ll be home first thing in the morning. Be clean and ready for me.” Depending on how the visit went, Reaver would need to let out some frustration and whipping Barry before fucking him would be the perfect outlet.

By the time Reaver arrived at the castle, he’d already finalized his plan. The storm rolling in proved to have impeccable timing. It was near enough to dusk that the darkening skies made it seem as though night came early. And the king was free to meet with him. Instead of the map room this time, the king sat in his private chambers watching the storm rage outside his balcony windows. A few extra lit lamps stood near the doorway.

Reaver reached for them, turning one off and then another. The king shot out of his seat and faced him. Reaver quietly closed the door, watching Logan’s every move.

“What are you doing?” The anger in Logan’s words held a bit of fear.

“I hope you don’t mind, but all the extra light is hurting my eyes. I don’t want to get a headache, and all this light can’t be good for you either.” With a flick of his wrist, Reaver doused the last lamp. The king stood stiff, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Reaver cut him off. “I hope you don’t mind the sudden visit, it’s been too long. I brought business reports for you on the state of my factories, the ones you’ve been wanting. Thanks to the storm I’ll be spending the night.”

“Leave the reports on the table. I’ll look at them later.” Logan’s shoulders were rigid with tension. “Can you please turn the lights back on?” Logan looked like he was trying to stay calm, but the desperate edge in his voice gave away him away.

“Oh, they look a bit low on oil. Should save them for when you really need them, plenty on already. It would be hard to discuss anything if I wind up with a headache due to it being too bright.” Reaver strolled in, looking more at east than he felt. He eyed the king up, calculating how much he’d changed and how to handle him. He’d ignore any talk about the lost prince for now. He had bigger things to find out. “I’m actually here to discuss some very important matters with you.” He gave a small bow.

“What is it?”

“First, are you feeling better? I don’t want to distress you if you are getting sick again. My king’s health is more important.”

“I’m fine.” Logan’s voice came out irritated.

A bang of thunder made the king jump. Reaver used the chance to douse the large light hanging from the ceiling. Getting rid of it cast the room into darkness. Then he dropped his cane and tackled Logan onto the bed, hitting him with his full weight. Not a hard feat with the way the king had frozen. It only disturbed Reaver knowing something could grip the king in such fear to keep him from fighting. During the flashes of lightning Reaver could see the obvious terror on the king’s face. The shadows and sparks of light from the lightning only accentuated it.

Reaver made sure to keep him pinned by the wrists while he kept his full weight on the king. He’d lost his hat in the tumble, but he didn’t let it bother him. “Tell me what you are afraid of. What’s in the darkness, Your Majesty?” He bit out the last two words.

“Turn on a light.” Logan tried to sit up but Logan kept him pinned.

“Tell me.”

“I need light, I need light now,” the king’s voice rose as he spoke and tried to wriggle out of Reaver’s grasp. He tried to kick and Reaver shifted his weight to pin his legs better. “Light! Please!”

Reaver considered slapping him, but chose to move his hand to the king’s throat instead. “Tell me or I start squeezing.”

The king froze again then deflated beneath Reaver. “It’s only you here, nothing else.”

“What do you mean nothing else?”

“Nothing hiding in the darkness. Only you.” He looked nothing like the king who’d kicked him out on his previous visit. He was only a shadow of that man. Even his newfound cold heartedness couldn’t withstand the darkness and whatever he feared about it.

“What would be in the darkness? Why do you need light?” Reaver lowered his face closer to the king’s. “Tell me now.”

“I don’t know what it is, some monster made of shadow. It called itself the Crawler. It’s a nightmare come true. It will kill us all if it isn’t stopped. It’ll devour Albion. Even you wouldn’t be able to escape it.”

“Sounds like you need a hero,” the words slipped right out of Reaver’s mouth. He remembered some of the reports delivered to him stating that the young prince had learned to harness magic. A new hero of will maybe? Or something else? “Roll over,” Reaver commanded into the king’s ear. “Don’t fight.” He was playing with fire right now, but the king wouldn’t be able to hold his spot if the young prince truly was Albion’s new hero. Reaver would leave to visit the marsh soon. He’d let the brothers fight things out themselves, especially if some sort of war was coming. He’d rather be off safe and sound than in harm’s way.

The king obeyed faster than Reaver expected. “I’ll call the guards,” the King threatened as he came to a rest on his stomach.

Reaver smirked. “I’ll give you good reason not to.” He pressed himself against the king’s ass, letting him feel Reaver’s intent as his erection strained against his pants. He briefly let go of the king to light a small lamp sitting on the bedside table. “You have light, cooperate if you want more.” Reaver began undressing the king like he was a ragdoll and the king did nothing to hinder or help.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the small oil lamp. The king let out a small sigh as Reaver pushed a finger inside him and then a second.

“Right now you only have me to fear, so be a good boy,” Reaver purred into the king’s ear. He didn’t get a response, but some of tension released from Logan’s shoulders as Reaver worked his ass.

He pressed his cock against the king’s ass. “You’re a fool to threaten me. You need my help in raising an army and defeating your brother. Without me you’re weak.” He slid inside and Logan let out a gasp. “You should be careful who you make enemies with. No enemy of mine survives.” Reaver nipped at the king’s neck before biting it hard, getting a grown out of the king. “Call the guards on me and I’ll give my backing to your brother. I’ll give him his own army for the rebellion he is raising.”

Reaver pulled out and slammed into the king harder this time. “You kicked me out last time. I’ll have to reconsider giving you my support now. You’d be smart to try to earn it back.” He began a steady rhythm. Finding the king too quiet and unresponsive, he turned the lamp off again.

The king let out a cry of fear and Reaver clamped a hand over his mouth. “Close your eyes so you don’t see the darkness. Pay attention to my cock instead. Remember, don't call the guards. I'd hate to have to put a bullet in that royal head of yours. I'm sure your brother would be more than eager to snatch your crown. ” He thrust harder now, picking up the pace until he had the king’s body rocking and the king grabbing at the bed covers. A gasp from the King let Reaver know he'd found his sweet spot. He continued hitting it, feeling the king's muscles tense beneath him. Reaver reached around to stroke the king’s cock and soon after Logan released with a breathy sigh.

Reaver buried himself to the hilt and bit the king’s shoulder as he came. He waited a moment before fumbling around with the lamp again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He glanced down at Logan to find that the king still had his eyes squeezed shut. Reaver rolled his eyes and climbed off the bed, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them. He made his way around the room lighting the lamps. Only then did the king slowly sit up. He looked pale. He even looked a bit shaky, and not from the sex.

“You need to quit being so afraid of the dark. If you keep letting your fear drive you, the prince will have your crown.” Reaver cast one last scowl at the king before leaving the room. Reaver headed down the quiet hallways toward his room. A maid darted into a room when she caught sight of him. Reaver recognized her as one of the maids he fucked on his guest balcony in the castle few weeks ago. She had told him her name, but he didn’t bother remembering it. Right now he had more important things on his mind to bother thinking about her.

He already had a special party planned, with some tweaking he could make it even better and get himself face to face with the young prince for the first time since that brat had run off. It was time to see if the magic rumors were true first hand. And it might help Reaver figure out which brother might come out on top. If the situation progressed fast enough, he’d be able to figure out the winner before making his little marsh trip.

Chapter Text

Reaver blamed Barry’s death on the prince. If not for the distraction the prince gave him, he may have felt inclined to save Barry. Usually the man knew better than to mess around with certain members of Reaver’s Secret Society. At the time, Reaver hadn’t cared. He’d been more focused on the prince and that regal frame of his. The prince really had grown since Reaver last saw him. The whiney child he once been didn’t stand in Reaver’s arena, but a dashing young man with a delectable ass. And that magic of his, absolutely exquisite. Reaver could see the prince toppling the king with that magic of his. Poor mad Logan wouldn’t stand much of a chance. When Barry got mauled, Reaver could barely bring himself to care in his eagerness to see the prince fight.

But later, once all of his guests had left and Reaver returned from visiting the King, his mansion felt emptier than normal. It lacked the annoying chatter of Barry. Or even the screaming of maids when they discovered that Barry had dragged one of the captured hobbes from Reaver’s arena into his bedroom for some fun. Reaver always assumed Barry’s jokes about them were just that, only jokes. But leave it to Barry to go and prove him wrong. Reaver could admire that wicked deviance.

Truth be told, Reaver noticed Barry’s aging looks. With each passing year Barry lost more of the youthful good looks that had drawn Reaver to him in the first place, and all of Barry’s drinking didn’t help his looks either. Normally Reaver would find someone else to fill Barry’s shoes, but he held off. Barry’s loyalty saved him, well until his unfortunate Balverine attack, which was own fault. Finding a loyal servant always proved difficult, especially one that didn’t break under Reaver’s punishments. Barry had enjoyed a good whipping and his mind for business even came as a boon for Reaver.

As Reaver sat in his study and stared at his desk, he realized something: he’d underestimated his fondness for Barry. Sure, he could fill his shoes with someone younger and better looking now, but he’d have to break the new lad in and that was always a nuisance. Reaver felt quite in the mood to have Barry kneeling in front of him, eager to please. Instead the scared maids skittered about the mansion. Reaver would have to find a new butler and companion, but filling Barry’s shoes would be a challenge. Although finding one with less of an inclination toward hobbes would be a plus. Last time one got away from Barry it went on a rampage in the kitchen and killed the cook.

Barry had only been a teen when he started working for Reaver. His family’s poor background left him with few job options. He started as Reaver’s carriage driver, then once Reaver decided he found the boy agreeable, he made him butler. When Barry started, he still had a face full of acne and a gangly body. It took a few years, but he evolved into a handsome young man with fiery red hair that later began to fade as he aged. Back then, he wooed all the maids and a lot of lasses in Bowerstone. Reaver figured Barry had at least one illegitimate child running around Bowerstone with the way he drank and forgot to condoms.

It was a shame he hadn’t been able to preserver Barry’s youthful good looks. Barry’s younger days were Reaver’s favorite. Those years he spent corrupting the redhead would always hold a special place in his memories.

*

“Barry.”

“Yes, Master?” Barry asked as he poured Reaver’s wine.

Reaver had spent the last two hours rereading his books in the library that detailed the Shadow Court. He knew he’d never escape their clutches, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to find a way to trick them or find another route to immortality. With all the years he had to work on it, he just might stumble across something yet. But for today, he’d grown bored of it. The servants had known well enough to leave him alone and Barry hovered silently making check-ins to see if Reaver wanted anything. For now, Barry would make a good distraction.

“Have the maids completed their weekly cleaning?”

“Yes.”

“And the invitations for my next party?”

“I sent them yesterday. And the work on the garden has been completed.”

“Excellent.” All of the finishing touches would finally be complete on his mansion. He’d designed the layout himself. He’d wanted something different than his last home, something that screamed luxury and class instead of pirate lord. Finding servants had proved to be one of the more difficult aspects of his new life. They didn’t handle Reaver’s personality as well as his pirate crew had.

“Barry, you understand what me being your master means, correct?” Reaver watched Barry’s eyebrows knit together. The acne that once marked his skin during his teen years had cleared up, leaving a smooth complexion behind. His fiery hair looked a little shaggy, but Reaver had noticed how the women seemed to love it. Barry’s slender frame had filled out nicely over the past two years. He looked more like a man now and not the raggedy boy he once was. The maids swooned over him and the women in the city flocked to him.

“I think so.” He sat the bottle of wine down.

“You listen to me and do whatever I request, or I punish you. Very painfully.”

“Y-yes, Master Reaver,” Barry said with his slight lisp and stutter that grew stronger whenever he got nervous. It had annoyed Reaver at first, but it only made him want to tease Barry to see and hear his reactions.

Reaver smiled at him and then sipped at the wine before handing it to Barry. “Drink it, all of it.”

Barry looked confused, but he accepted the glass. He looked to Reaver for a long moment before drinking the wine. With a face that said he hadn’t enjoyed the wine too much, Barry sat the glass down on the stand beside the armchair Reaver sat in.

“Barry, you are about to become a very lucky man.”

“W-why, Master?”

Reaver grinned at Barry’s nervousness. “You get to become one of my bed partners.”

Barry fidgeted, refusing to meet Reaver’s gaze.

Reaver stood up and as he came close to Barry, Barry stepped back. Reaver backed him against a table, trapping him.

“You are mine to do with as I please.” Reaver kissed Barry, pressing a hand against his head to hold him still. Grinding against the redhead, Reaver forced his tongue into his mouth. He could taste a small hint of the wine and smell the alcohol. He’d given him the wine for Barry’s sake to loosen him up a bit. Reaver let go of his head and sat down on the table. He pulled Barry in front of him so that he stood in between Reaver’s legs. “There are certain grooming requirements you will be expected to meet from now on.” Reaver spoke as he began unbuttoning Barry’s shirt.

Barry stayed silent, his face flushed. He didn’t protest or try to block Reaver’s hands. He stood still with his head down. He shuffled out of his shirt when Reaver tugged on it. Barry jumped when Reaver tweaked his right nipple.

“You’ve been watching without permission, Barry. I see you hiding around corners and behind furniture. I never took you as one to be a voyeur.”

Barry’s face flamed brighter.

“You want this, don’t you?” Reaver grinded against Barry who closed his eyes. “You’re hard.” Reaver pulled him away from the table and gave his ass a hard smack. Barry jumped at the sudden contact. “It’s not me you’re going to be having sex with.”

“M-master?” Barry opened his eyes and gave Reaver a quizzical look mixed with disappointment.

“You have twenty minutes to find a willing partner. I’m going to watch you from my chair here. You can fuck someone on the table. If you don’t find someone in time, you’re sleeping outside for the rest of the week.” Spring had come already, but nights were still cold and wet. No one in their right mind would want to sleep out there. Reaver returned to his chair and poured himself some wine. “Your twenty minutes starts now. I’ll be here waiting.”

Barry shot out of the room, leaving his shirt behind.

Reaver smiled. He’d have Barry another time, but he’d make him wait longer for it. Reaver wanted to watch him get frustrated. Being watched didn’t bother him; he just wanted to get under Barry’s skin to see his reactions. Reaver had even taken to fucking the maids with his doors open so that Barry would watch. The exhibitionist in him enjoyed it, savored it. He’d even watch for Barry, and if he didn’t appear, he’d finish in a grumpy mood.

Barry returned with one of the maids with three minutes to spare. He looked frazzled, and the maid confused. “I’m back.”

“You almost didn’t make it in time. Now fuck her while I watch. The table is all yours.” Reaver gestured toward it.

The maid’s eyes widened at his words. “In front of you?” she whispered.

“Pretend like I’m not even here. I won’t make a sound.” Reaver kicked his feet up on the small ottoman and got comfortable. “Get to it, Barry. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Obedient as always, Barry pulled the maid to the table, picked her up, and sat her down on top of it. He began undressing her. The maid looked stiff, her gazing shifting back to Reaver every few moments. Once Barry had her naked, he turned her around, cutting Reaver out of her line of sight.

“Make it good, Barry. Don’t make it a quick fuck to get it over with. I want time to enjoy the show.”

Barry nodded as he reached down to grab his shirt. He pulled a handkerchief out of it and used it to blindfold the maid before turning her back around. Then he started touching her, running his hands up and down her sides before grabbing her ass. He lowered his mouth to her breasts to lick and suck each nipple in turn. He glanced back to Reaver who gave him a nod. Barry spread the maid’s legs and ran a finger through her folds. He circled her clit, drawing a sharp breath from her.

Reaver began rubbing himself through his pants. He slowly undid his buttons and pulled himself out as he watched Barry touch the maid, even going as far as licking her clit. At one point Barry sat to the side, giving Reaver a good view as Barry thrusted his fingers in and out of her. Reaver pumped himself a little faster, but kept the pace slow enough that he wouldn’t come from it.

Barry moved the maid into position, moving her to the end of the table so that Reaver had a side view of them. He had her put her palms flat on the table and stick her ass out. He rubbed his cock against her folds, stopping to circle her entrance. Then he slid inside, waiting a moment before he began thrusting, starting slow and working up to a faster pace.

“Slap her ass.”

Barry followed Reaver’s orders and the thwack echoed in the room.

Reaver smirked as Barry’s gaze shifted to Reaver’s cock. “Taker her hard, Barry.”

Barry sped up his pace and slammed into the maid, his balls slapping against her ass. The maid let out a long moan. Barry fondled her breasts, still keeping his gaze on Reaver.

Reaver bit back a groan. He enjoyed watching a good fuck from time to time. Barry picked a good partner, the maid with the largest chest. Her breasts bounced around as Barry pounded into her.

A minute later Barry came and Reaver slowed down his pumping so he wouldn’t come too. It was a little fast for Reaver’s tastes, but that was okay. He had another idea in mind. “You stay, Barry, but she leaves.”

Noticing that Reaver had yet to come, Barry rushed the maid out of the room, giving her no time to get dressed. He tossed her clothes at her and shut the door. He hurried back to Reaver, standing in front of him and watching as Reaver’s hand slowly pumped away.

“Suck me until I come.”

Barry kneeled obediently and took Reaver in his mouth.

“Fast.” Reaver grabbed Barry’s head and urged him up and down, not caring if he gagged from it. “Yes.” He let out a soft moan. He was already so close, it wouldn’t take much more. Reaver moved his hips, bucking into Barry’s mouth. He tightened his grip to keep Barry from being able to pull away. Finally his release came and Reaver bit his bottom lip, watching as Barry drank his cum down. “Good boy,” Reaver purred to him. He ran his hands through Barry’s hair as he rode out his post-orgasm high.

Barry leaned back on his heels and watched Reaver. His fiery hair was a mess, and his dick still hung out of his pants. He’d gotten hard again already, and his dick pointed at Reaver. He watched Reaver with hopeful puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe next time I’ll fuck you, if you earn it.”

Barry’s face fell, his disappointment palpable.

*

Reaver had led him on for several weeks before finally tossing him onto a bed and fucking him until he couldn’t walk. That’d only been the beginning. They’d had threesomes together, orgies, and hosted parties aimed at pleasing the desires of the flesh. Barry became his most loyal servant, someone he could always count on.

And now, Barry was dead and buried in the woods behind the mansion. Maybe Reaver would blindfold Barry’s replacement and fuck him on top of the grave. He felt like that was something Barry would have been able to appreciate. He’d even shoot the next few Balverines he saw in Barry’s honor. Balverine hunting, now that was an idea. He’d heard a few of them out there howling. Surely he could bring a few of them down. He wouldn't cry over Barry's death. No, he would fuck until the pain subsided. He'd grown accustomed to seeing others die around him, and he refused to let Barry's death break down those walls he'd built to protect himself from the pain of losing others. He was Reaver, and for Reaver, life always went on, even while others died around him.

He grabbed his journal and began a new entry.

I miss the fool already. I should have saved him.

Chapter Text

Reaver stared at the worn, crooked door in front of him. When the wind from the coming storm lashed against the small wooden house, Reaver expected the door to fall right off its hinges. But the door held as the knob rattled. The light of a lantern flared out through the little house’s single window. He raised his gaze to the sky and the flashes of lighting growing closer by the minute. His factory, a hulking mammoth on the skyline, looked ominous with the dark clouds framing it. Reaver guessed the rain couldn’t be more than a few minutes off.

As rundown and crooked as the place was, he couldn’t picture a gypsy woman living inside. Nestled between two brick buildings, the house looked out of place and forgotten by time. Even the little planter in the window was overgrown with weeds and falling apart. The whole place was more dilapidated than usual for Bowerstone. Besides, he’d been under the impression all the gypsies had left Bowerstone. William said the fortuneteller was the best lead he could find and had even visited her himself. Apparently he had no chance of winning of living out his happily ever after he once dreamed about with his dear Renae. Or was it Rina? Either way the uneducated could be easy to fool. Reaver had seen enough frauds in his time and put a bullet in more than one. He could only hope this place wouldn’t be a dead end.

He rapped on the door with a quick tap, tap. Thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding him of the impending storm. The sky continued to darken. A drunk stumbled past the alleyway, singing a sea jaunty.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock again, the door swung open, yet doorway remained empty. The wind breezed past him and into the little house, sending herbs hanging from the ceiling twirling about.

“Come in, we haven’t got all night,” a woman called.

Reaver squinted into the darkness. There at the small table that couldn’t fit more than three people sat a woman with a veil over her face. He reached for the doorknob, and then hesitated, letting his hand rest on the knob without turning it. “Are you the fortuneteller?”

“I am. And you’re Reaver.”

Reaver frowned. “I hope you don’t mean to impress by knowing my name. Everyone knows me.”

The ghost of a smile appeared beneath the veil on bright red lips. Then the name he didn’t want to hear spilled from her lips. For several seconds Reaver froze before returning to his senses. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a loud thud. “Don’t you ever say that name again or I will put a bullet between your eyes. I’m Reaver now, not him.”
‘
“Then Reaver I shall call you. Sit down and let us begin.” The chair across from her shot out as though in an invitation. A fire flared up out of the ashes and logs in the small fireplace to his right.

Reaver held his ground. “So you’re a magic worker at the very least.” He considered adding a warning about tricking him, but remembering the name she spoke dried out his mouth. If she knew it, she had to have a shred of credibility to it. He’d never been one to feel insecure or exposed, not evern when naked in a room full of people. Not since becoming Reaver at any rate. But standing there in front of the unknown woman watching him, Reaver felt like his old self, the one before Reaver. The one whose name she’d spoken. His palms sweat, suddenly feeling too warm in his gloves. He didn’t want to guess what other secrets she knew about him or could learn. No one had any right to know his past except himself.

With his posture stiff, he took the seat and folded his arms on the tabletop. The cool storm air seeping in through the door gave the air a chill, and he shivered despite his long-sleeved suit. He couldn’t find any words, unsure of where to begin and lacking his usual Reaver confidence. This house reminded him of another one in another place, another time, but he couldn’t place it. The veil hid the woman’s features, making it impossible to tell her age and whether he knew her. He wracked his mind, searching for past fortunetellers he’d visited over his life, but none ever wore a veil.

“Let’s not waste any time. You’re here because you have an answer you seek, correct?” Her voice didn’t ring any bells or give away her age.

“Yes.” He glanced about the room, searching for any hidden traps or weapons. Perhaps once this king and prince issue was solved, he could learn a few magic tricks himself. Then he’d always have a secret defense arsenal with him. None of this palms sweating and lump in the throat nonsense.

“When you’re ready, place a hand on the crystal ball and you will learn what you are searching for.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you need to know what my question is first?”

She clicked her tongue. “No. The crystal ball will know what to show you. I prefer to stay out of it. It’s rude to spy on private moments.”

He eyed up the crystal ball. It appeared unassuming and dull as it reflected back a distorted image of his face. He’d yet to see a crystal ball be of any use outside of decorating. Only the frauds pretended to use them in his experience. If she was real, he’d walk out the door armed with the knowledge of what struck such an intense terror of the darkness into Logan. If not, he’d need the time he didn’t waste here dallying to find a new lead.

He reached for the crystal ball. Before he laid hands on it, the veiled woman cleared her throat.

“Glove off.”

He scowled and peeled the glove off, shoving it into a pocket before reaching for the ball, this time without any interruptions. Overhead the rain pounded against the roof and the wind whistled through the door. The cool draft sent the fire flickering as the drying herbs swayed overhead.

“Close your eyes and concentrate on the answer you seek, and it shall be shown to you.”

Reaver squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the king’s fear and his words about Aurora. What happened to him during his visit to that godforsaken desert place? What scared him so much about the darkness? The whistling of the wind stopped. The ran quieted and then disappeared. Reaver opened his eyes. Disoriented, he attempted to look around, but it didn’t change what he saw. The fireplace had been replaced with torches, and the table with a path through a cave.

“Your highness, we lost Benny,” a soldier said as he stared at Reaver—no, at Logan. Reaver peered through Logan’s eyes, taking in the darkness of the cave and the torches lit up in a circle around him. He counted the five soldiers around him. All wore the uniform of Albion.

“Did anyone see where he went?”

Several “No, you highness’s” followed.

“Maybe he got spooked by the story the locals told. Maybe he turned back,” a soldier with a thick black mustache offered.

“Then his pay will be docked when we return. And the same goes for any of you who decide to do the same.” Logan made eye contact with the soldier watching him. The man was quick to look down at his feet instead of hold the gaze.

“Keep moving,” Logan ordered. “Stick with the group and watch your steps. Try not to fall into any crevices or holes.” The men shuffled along with him. A few minutes later the two soldiers in front leading the way stopped.

“Benny, is that you?” one asked.

Benny didn’t answer. He fell forward, his head smacking off the stone floor with a sickening thud. A splotch of red seeped through the back of his shirt. The two men kneeled down and rolled him over. The one on the right gasped and shot to his feet. He stepped away, knocking into Logan.

“What is it?” Logan asked. He peered around the man, starting down at Benny and the black tar substance covering his eyes and leaking down his face like tears. What appeared to be a sword wound in his stomach pumped blood across his clothes. Logan knew from his training for battle the man wouldn’t survive. Not with a wound like his.

“M-maybe we should turn around?” A man from somewhere behind Logan asked.

“Let’s go a little farther. The locals said a monster lives here and if we slay it they’ll make an alliance with Albion. We can do this. We’ll all be heroes soon.”

Logan stepped over Benny and continued on. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. The torchlight made the soldiers’ faces look distorted as the shadows played across their faces. He shivered as the air grew colder. Every few steps the temperature dropped another degree, a harsh contrast to the hot days Reaver remembered Aurora having. The hair on the back of Logan’s neck rose.

“A statue,” a man murmured. “It’s blocking the path. We need to move it.”

Reaver recognized the statue. It looked just like the relic he’d found in Aurora during his trip. The very same one that now sat in his dining room and received horrified looks from Logan. Reaver sensed a growing uncertainty in Logan. He didn’t trust the locals and with the coldness creeping in, he knew they wouldn’t be able to make it much farther, but he wanted the alliance. He wanted to show what a great king he could be and open up Albion to more trading opportunities.

“Hurry up.” Logan shivered as two of the men grabbed the statue and hauling it across the floor. The statuescraped across the floor. Then the creature’s arm moved, raising its sword and running it through the chest of the man in front of it. A surprised gurgle escaped the man. He stumbled back, his hands grasping at the sword stuck through him. He collapsed against the cave wall, sliding down it.

The other man dropped the statue and it crashed against the ground, shattering into four pieces. “What the fuck?”

Logan tensed, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. “Weapons ready, men. Someone check on Edmund.”

A man stepped up from behind Logan and kneeled down beside Edmund. The rest of the remaining men stood around Logan, their hands on their sword hilts. All tensed, ready for battle. The man with Edmund stood up and shook his head. “He’s gone, and if he isn’t he will be any second.”

“Let’s return to the surface. We’ll come back with a larger force and try to get better lighting.”

“The statue moved. It fucking moved.” A soldier protested.

“This place is ancient. It’s likely full of magic and enchantments,” Logan said. “We’ll come back with someone who knows how to break enchantments.”

A grating noise echoed up the pathway and the men formed a line in front of Logan, protecting him instead of letting him fight. A tall, shambling creature of shadow shuffled into view, a sword raised above his head. Two men darted toward it. One lopped a leg off the creature while the other aimed for the heart. The creature fell and silence followed.

“Is it dead?” Logan asked.

“I think so,” a solder answered as he tugged his sword out of the creature’s chest. A sound similar to bats awakening and chirping en masse in a cave shattered the silence.

“Line back up!” Logan ordered.

“Should we use our guns?” A man asked in a shaky voice.

“No, the noise will deafen us all. Stick to swords. George, use your crossbow. Wait until you see the enemy to fight. If it’s only bats, don’t waste your energy. Remember, we’re from Albion and Albion always prevails.” Beside him his men straightened at his orders, ready to give their all to whatever headed their way. The authority in Logan’s voice made it easy for Reaver to envision Logan leading an army instead of this small group of soldiers. The confidence in his voice sounded nothing like the tyrant Reaver currently knew.

A pack of shadow creatures emerged into the light. Right away three fell to crossbow bolts, leaving about a dozen to contend with. Then Reaver’s view went fuzzy. Torchlights blurred together. Screams and screeches echoed off the cave walls, mingling with the sounds of battle. The iron smell of blood clung to the air. His vision cleared and stone walls whipped past. The torch flickered from the movement, coming dangerously close to being blown out.

A man yelled and Logan whipped around. A soldier sprawled out on the ground, blood seeping from a cut on his forehead. Logan held out a hand to help him up. Their fingertips brushed and the man let out another yell as the darkness shot into the light of the torch and engulfed him, silencing his scream. Logan jumped away from the slithering, shifting shadows. He turned and ran again, leaving his last companion behind. A cold wind pressed at his back, making his teeth chatter. The pathway switched to a sudden incline and Logan tripped. He dropped his torch as he flung out his hands in an attempt to find his balance. It landed beside him as his hands and knees hit the ground. He let out a hiss of pain. The torch sputtered and went out, tumbling the cave into complete darkness.

“You can’t escape me,” a deep voice called from the darkness. The echo bounced off the wall, surrounding Logan. “Running won’t save you. I’ve slumbered for so long. I should reward you for waking me.”

Logan climbed to his feet and jogged at a cautious pace, holding his hands out to keep from running into a wall. His left hand made contact with the cave wall and he ran his hand along it, letting it guide him toward the entrance. Toward freedom.

“I will devour everything. All that is light will be consumed by darkness.”

“You won’t have Albion!” Logan called out to the impenetrable darkness. His footsteps tapped a steady rhythm through the cave.

The mystery voice laughed. “Who will stop me, you? You are too weak. Unfit to call yourself a king. I could kill you now.” Long fingers crept over Logan’s shoulders. “Your men are all dead. You failed them just like you will fail your precious Albion.” A painful coldness consumed Logan and a vision crept over his eyesight.

Logan stood on the streets of Bowerstone, a chorus of screams rising into the air. The smell of gunpowder and blood tainted the air. A little girl ran past, making it only three steps before a creature of darkness assuming a humanoid form tackled her, tearing into her throat. Her blood sprayed across the cobblestones. A woman shrieked and rushed to the little girl. When she drew close the creature jumped up and clawed at her throat. She grasped at her throat, unable to stop the blood pouring out or to cry for help. She onto her knees as she reached out for the girl. Their blood snaked across the street, mixing together. Finally the woman fell forward and stilled, her hand resting on the girl’s arm.

Logan screamed, the force of it burning his throat. Blood trickled down the road and around his boots. His gaze followed the stream to a pile of dead soldiers, their eyes black from a tarry substance. The mouth of the man on top of the pile gaped open, the tarry substance inside trickling out and down the pile of bodies.

“This is what will become of your Albion. Everything will belong to the darkness, to me.”

“No, no, no, no,” Logan repeated over and over again. “You can’t have Albion! I won’t let you!”

“You don’t have a choice. You’ll never stop me. As long as you sit on the throne Albion will be mine. The clock is ticking. I’ll see you again soon, King Logan,” the voice spit out the last two words in disgust.

Logan’s footsteps tapped erratically across the cave. Two turns later and sunlight burst into view up ahead, calling him like a beacon. He darted for the light as the cold wind chasing him abated. He stumbled when his feet hit the sand and the sun blinded him, but he didn’t stop running.

Reaver jerked in his seat and his eyes shot open. His heart raced, his palms sweat. The rain had turned to a light patter and only embers burned in the fireplace. Other than Reaver, the table, and the crystal ball, the place was empty. Empty and dark but for the flashes of lightning.
“Hello?” He called out to the darkness. No response. Climbing to his feet, he wobbled on shaky legs. He caught himself against the table, leaning on it for support while his pulse slowed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Anyone?” Still no response. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out three gold coins. He laid them on the table before backing away. When his back brushed against the door, he fumbled for the knob.

“Why are we meeting here?” William asked as he took a seat across from Reaver.

“A hero named Sparrow once started her journey here. But that’s not important to the present. I felt like some fresh air and the privacy of this place will do.”
Behind the gazebo a duck quacked as it touched down on the water’s surface. It settled into the water, a trail of ripples following behind it. Nobility strolled the pathways around the lake, but none interrupted them.

“I cannot begin to explain what I’ve learned to you. I don’t even fully understand it yet, but I know we are on the brink of an invasion.”

“So it’s just as the king fears, but from where?” Will brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

“Aurora, but not the people who live in that wasteland. An old magical force has awakened. I’ve spent days trawling through my library. I even visited Brightwall. Not much is known about the dark force that lives beneath the shifting sands of Aurora, but if it comes here we stand little chance.” He stared down at his hands, remembering making his stand with Sparrow. In the end she hadn’t needed him. The whole ordeal became Sparrow’s journey with him nothing but a footnote. He’d never been a fan of Garth, but his books about Aurora had come in handy. It appeared the Samarkand knew more about Aurora than Albion. Only the books he stole from Brightwood Tower gave him any information on the lurking evil.

“The king can’t save us from it. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s too scared. We need someone who can stand strong.” The powerful magic of the prince came to mind. A magic wielder would stand a better chance against the darkness than Logan. But had he learned enough? Or was the days of heroes long past?

“I have news about the Prince.” Will pulled a slice of stale bread from his pocket and pulled a chunk off before throwing it to the duck. The bird gobbled up the bread and soon several others gathered about the gazebo as Will tossed them bread. “The prince has made alliances. At this rate he must be preparing to make a play for the throne. There’s rumors saying he’s preparing to head to Aurora.”

“Ah. He must be planning a revolution if he’s looking for support in that place. No other reason to go there.”

“If he goes with revolutionaries, they’ll need a ship and I doubt they can afford to buy one. They are likely to try to steal one. Should we move our ships from the docks?” Will threw the last piece of bread to the ducks. Two fought over it, quacking and spreading out their wings as they battled.

“No, leave them. I’m curious to see how this plays out. We might get lucky and he will take care of the invasion issue before it can reach Albion.”

“And what are we to do?”

“We’ll sit back and wait to see if the prince makes it back from Aurora. When he does, we’ll stay out of the city to avoid the revolution.”

“Aren’t you going to help the king?” Will frowned, his forehead wrinkling.

“He isn’t much eager for my help these days. He is going to have to look after himself. If he can’t hold the throne, then why should he have it?”

“But you have an agreement with him.”

“I’m not always a man of my promises. Tell me, would you prefer to support the king if you thought he couldn’t beat back the invaders, but the prince could? What becomes more important—my promise or Albion?”

“Albion,” he leaned back with a defeated look on his face. “Do you really think the prince will take the throne?”

“As long as he survives Aurora. Tell me, William, do you enjoy eating duck?”

He glanced at the swarm of ducks still waiting for more bread. “I’ve only had it once or twice before. Can’t say I have much of an opinion on it.”

Reaver whipped out his gun and fired. The ducks squawked and flew away, all except for the victim of Reaver’s bullet. He holstered his gun. “Be a good boy and bring that with us. I’m craving duck for dinner.”

Knowing better than to question him, Will reached into the water with a grimace and grabbed the dead duck by the neck. Reaver stood and rolled his shoulders.

“Ugh,” Will groaned as he pulled the duck out of the water, blood and water dripping off the carcass.

“You won’t be saying that when you’re eating it in six hours. The only bird tastier than the duck is chicken. I should see about having some of both raised on the grounds of the manor. Duck eggs are delectable.” He touched his fingers to his mouth and made a kissing sound as he lifted them in the air.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Reaver appraised Will. He was no Barry, but he’d make a good enough replacement. He had more of a tendency to draw women too him than chase away them away like Barry had, and that trait would be handy. With a little more training, he could be the perfect companion. If they survived the coming darkness. One step at a time.

“How about a trip into town? We should get you some party-appropriate clothes. And update me as soon as you hear anything new about the prince. In the meantime, let’s have a party. This is good a time as any to savor life.” He clapped Will on the back. A good time to party and forget about the darkness he’d seen.

What a pity he hadn’t become closer to the king earlier, gotten the chance to enjoy him while he was in good health and unmarred by the waiting evil. Under different circumstances Logan could have been a great king, Reaver surmised. Too bad his name would go down in history as another king to lose his throne to a sibling. He couldn’t cut Logan off just yet. Not until the prince returned, and if he didn’t, he’d throw his backing behind Logan. Still, it’d be a tragedy if the prince never returned and got lost to the desert sands. After all, Reaver had yet to see him naked and to never get to? A terrible tragedy indeed.

Chapter Text

Reaver was certain of two things as he stared at his reflection. First, his new shirt and vest looked as dashing as he thought they would on him, and secondly some sort of Darkness was headed Albion’s way. An enemy King Logan wouldn’t be able to defeat. With how the king’s health continued to decline, Reaver would place all his bets on the king fairing even worse than his last encounter with the mysterious enemy. The ridiculous amount of soldiers he’d hired wouldn’t help even out the odds either. Albion needed more than good steel and fighting instincts to survive the coming battle. It needed magic.

“You look absolutely scrumptious in that soldier uniform.” Reaver turned from his mirror to look William up and down. Already the sting of Barry’s death had faded as Reaver kept his sights on his replacement. All the excitement of Albion’s possible demise also served as a distraction from the loss of his former servant’s presence.

“It’s not very comfortable,” Will grumbled. “Too stuffy.”

“What has the king told the soldiers?” Reaver flung open the balcony doors to his room and took a deep breath of the fresh air. Much better than the soot-tainted air of Bowerstone. “Has he said anything about who he thinks will attack?”

“Next to nothing. He told us he has reason to suspect a coming invasion of great strength, but tells us nothing else. Some people are starting to think he’s gone mad. They blame the runoff from the factories. I think some of them are preparing to support the prince.” He tugged at the collar of his uniform as he followed Reaver toward the railing. “You know what he isn’t saying, don’t you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You always seem to know everything.” Will leaned against the railing beside Reaver.

Reaver stared out over the lake. Funny how despite his loathing for heroes (outside of himself of course) Albion would be turned to ashes without them. He’d thought he outlived the age of heroes and would never have to be tormented with seeing another one again. Yet right now while the nobles wandered the pathways around the lake oblivious to the coming danger, Albion’s new hero cavorted around the country gathering support.

“Do you know much about magic?” Reaver asked.

Will shook his head. “That’s the stuff of history and legends. And a few crackpots with a marble loose.”

The light breeze created small ripples across the lake’s edges, yet despite the calmness of the scenery Reaver felt the same electric excitement in the air he felt the day Sparrow appeared on his doorstep. Something big was coming. “Magic is still real and still out there. The enemy coming isn’t human. It’s an ancient evil made of magic that’s lain dormant beneath Albion until the idiotic king and his men woke it up.”

“Er, a magic enemy?” Will ran a hand through his hair, mussing his waves. He looked as unconvinced a Reaver would suspect any man of this age to be without seeing the magic for himself. People today didn’t know how to respect and fear magic.

“Imagine an enemy that can disappear and appear at will. An enemy that can morph itself into new shapes and invade your body, killing you from the inside out. Regular swords and guns will have little effect. To win means taking down the leader, but only a Will user will be able to take him on. The king will send his soldiers out to fight, but they will fall like dominoes. This magicless world doesn’t remember how to fight such monsters.”

Will blanched at the description. “What about your loyalty to the king? He plans to ask you for money to finance his army. He will need your help to keep funding it.”

“My loyalty only goes to those who are useful to me and the king no longer is. If he remains on the throne, Albion will fall. I’d rather take my chances with the young whelp of a prince. I’ll take an unknown over a certain failure any day.” A bird cawed from a nearby tree and Reaver tensed, ready for a fight. The electricity in the air prickled at his skin. There’d been one other day he’d felt the electricity outside of Sparrow. It was the day he’d gone and made his deal with the Shadow Court.

“What the hell am I supposed to do if the soldiers are just going to die?” Will tightened his grip on the railing. “I’m not going back to the palace if it means death.”

“You aren’t going back. You’re staying here with me, unless you want to be in Bowerstone when the uprising hits. The king has summoned me and I will be joining him at the palace today. I’d hate to miss my chance to see him before his brother takes the throne.” Reaver turned from the railing and headed for the door. “Follow me, I have a present for you.”

“A present?” Will asked as he moved to follow.

“Oh don’t sound so surprised. I can be generous when I want to be.” He opened the sword box lying across his bed and handed the sheathed sword to Will.

“If you haven’t noticed I’ve already got a sword.”

Reaver smiled in amusement. “But not an enchanted sword. This one will be able to kill the minions of darkness.”

Will pulled the sword from its sheathe, admiring the quality of the weapon and the shine of the steel. He reached out to touch the steel of the blade.

“Be careful with the blade; it burns when it touches flesh.”

Will jerked his hand away. “How is burning going to help fight shadows?”

“The other enchantments on the weapon will handle that. The sword doesn’t just burn, it drains magic through the blade. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with the king. Try not to kill yourself with the sword.” Reaver gave a dramatic bow before grabbing his top hat and throwing it up in the air. Will had the audacity to not look impressed when it fell down perfectly atop Reaver’s head.

“On second thought, I’m making you come with me.”

*

The palace glowed with light in almost every window. It looked ready for a ball instead of a night of vigilance. Reaver wondered how the king’s obsession with keeping the palace well-lit at night fit into the royal budget. The king could barely afford to pay his army let alone all the lanterns and candles he bought up.

The king stood staring down at his map in the war room, his hands resting on the edges on either side of him. His uniform fit him snugly, showing off how thin he’d become. Reaver scarcely ever saw him in any other room in the palace anymore. Half a dozen lanterns sat around the room, keeping the shadows at bay with the blazing lights. Spotting dirty dishes on a side table he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Do you at least leave the map to go sleep?”

Logan straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re late.”

“Only by ten minutes. I ran into a stray pack of hobbes outside of the city. The roads aren’t as fun as they used to be. I used to find a fight on the road every month. Now I’m lucky to find one every other month.” Mostly highwaymen these days instead of monsters. Reaver let out a sigh. “Sometimes I miss the old days. I’m afraid the world will get too civilized.”

“Let’s get down to business.” Logan sat in an arm chair and gestured for Reaver to take the other one as a maid hurried in with a pot of tea. Reaver recognized her as the one Will was currently soft on. Wild red hair gave her an untamed look. Her green eyes stood out against her pale skin and with her curves, well maybe Will didn’t have such bad tastes after all despite his past with Benjamina. The way she refused to look at Reaver made him think Will warned her away from him. Too bad he wouldn’t have time to hang around and show her his talents.

“What is it you want?” Reaver asked as he added a small sugar cube to his tea. He took in the king’s brooding appearance. The dark bruises beneath his eyes and sharp angles of his face made him look like a true tyrant. But Reaver knew it was a sign of weakness instead of strength. In his condition the king wouldn’t fight well and no lamps or candles would keep the coming Darkness at bay.

“I need money to fund my army.” Logan pressed his fingertips together.

“Don’t you have enough men yet?”

“No. I need more to face the coming invasion.” Logan didn’t bother to touch his tea cup.

“Will you bend over your precious map and beg me for it?” Reaver crossed one leg over the other.

Logan scowled. “I don’t have time for games tonight. Are you willing to give me the money or not?”

“Tsk, tsk. You need to watch your bedside manner and remember who helped you get this far. I’ve given you enough money. Why should I give you even more if you won’t even bend over for me?”

Logan slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Damnit, Reaver. We don’t have time for this. An invasion is coming and we need to be prepared.”

“You’ve become so moody and depressing. So obsessed with your army you’ve forgotten to thank those who’ve helped you.” Reaver wished he’d brought his cane so he had something to fiddle with or whack Logan across the thigh with, but it would have been too much of a nuisance on horseback. He didn’t want to risk bringing the carriage with the city on the brink of revolution. The gold R’s on it would capture too much attention from the revolutionaries. “Quite frankly I don’t know why I bother to visit with you anymore.”

Logan let out a frustrated growl. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Albion. You’re so full of yourself that you can’t stand to not put yourself first.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Reaver sipped at his tea. “You are terrified of the coming Darkness, I’m aware.”

Logan’s face hardened. “You know about the Darkness?”

“Oh yes. I also know you not strong enough to defeat it. I’ve seen what you’ve seen. Albion will need a warrior to win. Someone who can wield magic.” Someone like the prince.

“I won’t let it take Albion.” Logan shot to his feet and returned to the map. “No one will take Albion from me.”

“Except for your brother?”

Logan whirled around and glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare support him.”

“I’ll support who I see fit to support.”

“You bastard, how dare you? I’m your king.” Logan rammed a fist down on the edge of the map, shaking the plastic ships spread out on the water.

Reaver stood to face the king, his expression hard. “And if you know what’s good for you you’ll speak with more respect to me. Don’t forget who I am.”

“If you know about the Darkness than you know how badly we need a strong army. I want another ten percent of your profits.” He turned around to face the map again. “I want at least ten grand by the end of the week.”

Reaver shot across the distance between them. Logan reacted too slowly and only started to turn when Reaver shoved him forward and pinned his hands behind his back.

“Don’t make me call the guards,” Logan spat out.

“Now, now, if you do that I’d have to kill them all, and then you. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we? So lend me your ear and listen a minute.” Reaver licked Logan’s left earlobe.

“What do you want?” Logan tried to pull away from Reaver’s grasp, but Reaver tightened his hold, keeping the weakened king trapped.

“Listen to me. The Darkness will come, and you won’t be able to beat it. But I won’t lose Albion or my life to a coward masquerading as a king. Your brother is coming for you and when he does remember to play nice and lose with dignity because most tyrant kings don’t survive the revolutions against them. Lucky for you your brother isn’t a tyrant and you might be able to convince him to save your life. If he can’t reach you himself during his revolution, I’ll put a bullet in your head for him.” Reaver pulled Logan’s arm’s tighter, earning a whimper of pain.

“What makes you think my brother could do better than me?” Logan glared down at his map. The hairs on the back of his neck raised against Reaver’s breath.

“He has seen the same Darkness you have. While you cower in your palace he prepares to overthrow you and face the same enemy you fear. If he’s willing to face the Darkness again then I’ll put my money on the brave fool. We need someone who won’t wet his pants when the enemy darkens our doorstep.”

“He isn’t guaranteed to win.”

“He will. Now be a good boy for me and obey.” Reaver let go of Logan and stepped away. Logan slumped against the map table. “Enjoy your night, your majesty. It’s likely one of your last as king. You’ve already lost. Don’t take Albion down with you.” He took two steps toward the door and then stopped. “If this is the last time I see you, then know it’s been a grand time.”

“Fuck you.”

Reaver wagged a finger. “Naughty, naughty.” He slapped Logan’s ass and stepped out of the way when the king tried to slap him.

The guards didn’t react when Reaver opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Both appeared content to act like they didn’t even see him. More soldiers than usual milled about the hallways while most servants stayed out of sight. Or perhaps they’d gone home instead of risking the night at the palace with a revolution on the horizon. When he turned the corner to reach the stairs, he found Will already halfway up them.

“We need to go, now.” Will turned and started back down the stairs with an urgency in his quick steps.

“Has it begun already?” Reaver used his longer stride to catch up to Will when they reached the first floor.

“The Old Quarter is under attack. They’re preparing to seal the gate. We might be stuck here.”

“But you came for me instead of leaving me behind while you took the chance to escape. There just might be a good future for you in my employ yet.” He patted Will on the head like a dog.

Will swatted at his hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re not out yet. I’m sure the revolutionaries would love to take a crack at you and the king.”

“True. I guess we will be sneaking out of here then. Hurry up before we lose our chance to get through the main gate.” He took his hat off and threw it at a maid, giving her a wink for good measure. Another maid jumped at the hat, trying to rip it out of the first one’s hand. Reaver didn’t intervene in their tug-of-war.

“How are we getting out of the front gate?”

“We have plenty of time to get out. This is why I came on horseback. Saddle up.” Reaver picked up his pace. When they reached their horses Reaver climbed atop his in one swift motion. “Are you ready?” Reaver gave will a grin and then cracked the reins and urged his horse into a run, leaving Will to catch up.

The half a dozen soldiers gathered around the half-closed gate all turned to see what the commotion was. They held their ground until Reaver pulled a pistol out from beneath his coat and waved it in a “get out of the way” motion. Four ran for the sides of the road. Two guards had to dive out of the way to get clear of his horse in time. Reaver blew through the gate with a whoop while gun shots echoed in the air from the Old Quarter.

“Sounds like the Old Quarter is taking a beating,” Will shouted as he brought his horse alongside Reaver’s. They both slowed to a walk.

“Do you want to go join them?”

Will through a hand up in protest. “I’d rather not. I’d rather go get a nice night’s sleep if you don’t mind.”

Reaver rolled his eyes. “Youth these days have gone soft. Men used to love the chance for a good fight. I wouldn’t mind getting a few shots in, but this isn’t my fight or my place to interfere. Still, I’m curious to see how it plays out and how the prince fares. We could have a new king by morning.”

Will blew out a loud breath. “I could go for a drink.”

“What about that maid of yours? She’ll be in danger once the revolutionaries reach the palace. Would be a shame for her to get carted off by another man.”

Will pulled his horse to a stop. “Do you really think that’d happen?”

Reaver gave a nonchalant shrug. “Men do all kinds of things in the heat of battle. Once your blood gets pumping you don’t want to stop it. A pretty thing like her would make a great outlet for young men eager for war spoils.”

Will whipped his horse around and made for the Old Quarter where the sound of gunfire was enough to alert the whole city to the revolution.

“He’s in too deep with her,” Reaver muttered. Spotting a young woman standing beside the road, her gaze trained toward the fires lighting up the sky form the Old Quarter, he hopped down and put on his best swagger. She didn’t look like a factory worker, more like a shop keeper or the wife of one judging by her clean clothes and skin.

“Lovely night, isn’t it? Dangerous night though for a beautiful lady like yourself to be out during a revolution.”

“Reaver?” Her voice came out shrill and she blushed.

“At your service.” Reaver dropped into a charming bow. “How about we get you somewhere safer for the night? Somewhere like my manor. I have a superb bottle of wine I’ve been meaning to open. What do you say?” He held out a hand to her.

“My husband is fighting at the palace,” her voice came out weak and her blush deepened.

“Then I’m sure he’d want you to go somewhere safe until the danger has passed.”

She hesitated for a moment, a look of uncertainty playing across her features. Then with her mind made up she placed her hand in his. Reaver gave a her a wolfish grin. “I hear we’re getting a new king. How about we celebrate?” He gave her a boost onto his horse before climbing on behind her. An explosion rocked the night behind them and Reaver briefly wondered how Will was holding up in the fighting.

Morning would bring news of the victor and until then he’d spend the night having some fun. If Albion was coming to an end and he couldn’t stop it, he’d go out with a bang. But he had a feeling Albion was more resilient than the Darkness knew, and the little prince more of a warrior than Reaver’d ever given him credit for. But oh how he looked forward to meeting the prince again. Maybe he’d even forgive Reaver for putting him through that little fight with his Wheel of Misfortune. And maybe he’d be more appreciative of Reaver’s services than his cowardly brother had ever been.