Author's Note: So, I have fallen in love with Fable! After playing TLC I loved Maze, and after playing Fable III I loved Reaver. Apparently I am drawn to the tortured souls. I wish I had an xbox to play Fable II, but alas I am but a poor lowly peasant. This is most definitely a Reaver/Princess story, I have read quite a few I love and there needs to be more, so I decided to write one. If you love Reaver/Princess stories I highly recommend the "Unbound" series and "A Dark Commitment" by kiltsaresexy. I don't have a Beta, and I'm terrible with punctuation, please forgive me and I hope it doesn't bother people too much or take away from the story. I will do my best to fix it up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable, nor am I making any monetary gain from this little story of mine.

Seeds of Sorrow, Reap Thy Penance.

Chapter 1: Vengeful Sorrow

The ground shook beneath her, she quickly sat up as her heart began to beat fast. She looked around her but all she could see was the blue cloth that made up their little make-believe tent. She turned to her friend, Elliot, who lay besides her, his eyes opened wide and looking up at her with fright. "Wh-what was that Adie?" He asked in a nervous whisper.

"I don't know Elliot. Shhh." She said as she tried to listen for anything else. The grass tickled her bare feet, and she felt a little more brave when she felt Elliot wrap his fingers around hers. She could hear the crickets and fireflies buzzing about; if she strained herself she thought she could make out people's voices. They didn't sound happy or kind. Before she could make out anything more the ground gave another violent and thunderous shake. Both her and Elliot cried out in fear, though no one could possibly hear them over the loud roar of what seemed to be an explosion.

"Adie we have to get inside!" Elliot cried out as he jumped to his feet and pulled her up. She nodded only stopping to grab Stephanie, her favorite doll and companion when Elliot wasn't available to play. Hand-in-hand the two took off across the gardens of the castle towards the back door.

They had just ran up the stairs, behind the large entrance to her Father's crypt, when another explosion shook the earth. The sheer force of it pried their hands apart and she painfully fell; a loud crack rendering the air. She screamed in agony, unaware that Elliot had ran back for her as her tears blurred her vision. Her leg was throbbing, the pain was sharp and severe, it overwhelmed her completely. She sobbed loudly, Elliot trying to quiet her, "Shh Adie! Come on, we have to keep going, get up!" He said trying to pick her up but she merely let out another shrill scream of agony.

"I c-can't! It hurts!" She cried, both pain and fear battling for her full attention at once. Elliot froze as another blast came, this time a sharp crack could be heard as well, the sound of splitting wood.

"Stay here Adie! I'll go get help!" Elliot said, before breaking out into a run towards the castle once more. She heard him desperately call for someone to open up, but there was no reply that she could hear. She suddenly heard the tinkering sound of breaking glass and Elliot rapidly explaining the situation to someone, from the sound of it a woman, but she couldn't be sure as another violent explosion rent the air. She groaned as the earth shook, jostling her injured leg. There were footfalls nearby and she turned her face away from her oddly shaped leg to see Elliot kneeling besides her once again.

"I couldn't get in, they locked the doors, but I broke a window and told a servant, she's going to find your brother." Elliot explained taking her hand, "Don't worry Princess, I'll be your brave and noble knight to guard you!" He smiled down at her, but both of them could see the fear in each others eyes nonetheless.

It felt like ages but could only be a few minutes at most when the doors were thrown wide open, hitting the castle wall hard. Elliot stood up pulling what looked like a butter knife from out of his belt and holding it in his shaking hands as rapid and heavy feet ran towards them.

"Adeline?!" Logan yelled, the worry and panic clear in his voice, she suddenly felt relieved, her big brother was here and things would be okay. She was safe.

"Logan!" She called out, she watched him round the corner, his eyes wild with fear, face creased with worry and hair completely frazzled and out of place. A relieved sigh escaped him, until he saw the tears running down her face and her leg, bent at the wrong angle. His eyes darkened with anger.

"What're you two doing out here?! Did I not tell you a million times not to sneak out of the castle at night?!" He nearly yelled at them.

"I-I'm sorry Logan, I just wanted to camp out!" She sniffled as he bent down to look at her leg, his gaze softened and he ran his fingers through her hair trying to calm and comfort her.

"This is going to hurt Adie, I'm sorry." Logan said softly as he slipped his arms beneath her small body and lifted her to his chest. She gave a sharp cry of pain, her vision tunnelling he tried to soothe her, and as she passed out she thought she heard him whisper to himself, "I'm going to kill them for hurting you."

She opened her eyes, giving them time to adjust, a musty and putrid smell reaching her nose before she could make out the mossy and cracked stones above her. For a second she was confused before she recalled that she was in the Rebel Hideout, also known as the sewers of Bowerstone. Her nose crinkled as she sat up rubbing the grit of sleep from her eyes, she sighed. A heavy stone of sorrow sinking in her chest as she listened to the sounds of her heart barely audible over the loud snoring of the men and women sleeping beside her in their own cots. She swallowed dryly, getting up slowly in search of some water, she fumbled her way to the makeshift kitchen and filled a copper goblet before gulping it down greedily. She set it back on the table with a heavy thud, rubbing her temples she blinked back tears. The nightmares were so much easier to handle than the memories of her dearly loved and dead best friend-turned-romantic interest, and the times when her brother seemed to give a damn about her.

Those times had long since passed it seemed, they were always very far apart in age, but it worked in their favor when her parents had died. Their mother died giving birth to her, and their father died of some will-induced illness a short few years later. Logan was merely fifteen and she was three when they were orphaned. Her brother and Walter had been the ones to raise her, showering her in attention and affection, as well as guiding her and teaching her. She had received the very best education, along with piano, dancing and etiquette lessons. Walter began teaching her combat at the tender age of seven, she'd never forget the intricate small sword he had made for her. It was light and dull, with beautiful and intricate flowers and bird designs running from the hilt up the blade. It wasn't meant to do damage, but merely be something she could use while learning how to strike, block and move. Dancing came in handy when it came to movement, she found her footing while in battle to be just like dancing. Mirroring the others, keeping herself balanced, being graceful but quick, sometimes even misleading her enemy.

Her brothers' change had been slow at first, she could tell how stressed he was when he first took the throne at eighteen. He stopped sleeping, he barely ate, he became more strict and terse with her. Then he went to Aurora and when he came back he was all alone. Without a single one of his guards, none of them had made it, but he refused to say what had happened. She knew it was bad though, she could sometimes hear him screaming in his sleep. That's when he began to sleep even less, when he became colder and meaner. He turned into a tyrant and rarely talked to her, let alone show her any affection. She swallowed thickly as she recalled the last time she had tried to reach out to him, a few years ago, when she was sixteen.

Logan was standing with his back to her, his posture stiff and foreboding, his hands were clasped behind his back. She swallowed thickly, "You wanted to see me?" She timidly stepped into the room, every day around her brother was a tense dance, trying not to step on the egg shells. He shifted and turned to her, his eyes were dark as he scowled at her.

"Indeed I did sister. It hasn't escaped my notice that you choose to spend most of your time with that commoner friend of yours, when you should be looking at things a little more...politically." He said quietly.

She sighed, it was always the same argument they had. He expected her to marry into money, or better yet another kingdom's royalty, stating the need for more money and protection; but she refused to even talk with the noblemen. She would not marry for anything but love. "You mean spread my legs for noblemen for money, if I was interested in that I'd just go work the streets like any other common whore."

His brow furrowed and he sighed in exasperation, "Love can find its way into an arranged marriage Adeline, afterall Mother and Father were arranged…"

"I don't want that." She said firmly.

"You'd put your own happiness above the well-being of the people of Albion?" He asked, a sneer on his face.

"Don't act like you care about them Logan. You just enjoy toying with their lives like it was some sort of sick game. You get off on having people executed." She spat angrilly, he slammed his hand down on the table between them.

"You have no idea what I go through. I do what I have to do. It is for their own good, whether you or they see it or not. They will be thanking me in the long run." He ground out, turning away from her once more to face the window, she frowned.

"How could this possibly be for them? You are destroying them, destroying this country! Father would be ashamed and disappointed." She folded her arms across her chest. Cringing as she heard the wine glass in his hands break.

"Father never faced what I have to." He spoke quietly after a few minutes of silence, "He'd be just as lost as I am." She tilted her head, it had been so long since she heard her brother speak so softly and vulnerably, how she missed it. She missed her brother.

"You don't have to face it, alone anyway. I'm here. I don't know what it is, you won't even tell me, but surely there's a way without doing such terrible things…" She said just as softly.

He snorted half-heartedly, "I wish that was true. I tried, but the more I did so, the more I worsened the situation. This is the way it has to be."

She was quiet for a while, letting her emotions wash over her. She was torn between disgust and sadness for her brother. For once she resented being born into royalty. Had they been normal things would be different for them, perhaps they'd still be as close as they once were. A painful stab of misery hit her square in the chest, nearly taking her breath away. Every day she looked at her brother convinced the man she had grown up with was forever gone, but obviously some piece of him still resided within him. It festered a hope in her, that perhaps she could fix it all, so she could selfishly have her brother back regardless of the fate of the world. She walked quietly over to her brother, and wrapped her thin arms around his left arm, leaning her head on his shoulder, "I miss you Logan."

He immediately stiffened and after a few tense seconds he pulled away abruptly, "We're not children anymore Adeline. It's time you realize that and grow up. You keep telling me you can help me run this country, yet do such childish things."

She felt herself deflate, "I didn't realize loving my big brother was so immature. My mistake your majesty. I won't bother you with it again." She said coldly. She turned and left the room, slamming the door, feeling the burning in her eyes as tears fell down her cheeks.

Things had only grown worse for them after that, she avoided him as much as possible, it hurt her too much to be in the same room with him knowing how much he hated and resented her. Then of course came the day the revolution truly began. Her hands shook at the memory, pouring herself some wine she sipped it, whispering, "For you Elliot. I'm so sorry." She spoke the truth when she said she'd never forgive Logan. He had made her choose between a group of protestors or the man she loved, she froze. How could she possibly give the command to execute so many people or the one she loved? Minutes ticked by as her heart thudded against her chest, pleading with Logan but he merely began a count-down. True to his word he had them all executed, she had tried to wrestle the guards away from Elliot, she held onto his hands as long as she could before he was ripped away. Then Logan had the nerve to tell her he was disappointed in her, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could before his guards hauled her away to her room.

She had spent the rest of the day flitting between panic attacks and hysterical crying, it felt like her heart had been ripped out. Elliot was the one for her, she had wanted to marry him, and now he was dead. Her brother killed the love of her life, she swallowed around the burning lump in her throat. Anger was nothing new to her, it seemed to be her constant companion now. She heard the door swing open behind her but didn't bother to see who it was, there was no need when his loud voice boomed across the room, "Ah Princess, you're up early. I heard what happened at Reaver's Mansion."

She grimaced and swivelled around in her seat, "That man is a lunatic, Walter." She shivered at the memory of the little game he made them play. She wondered what would have happened if she had lost and Reaver discovered that he had just killed the Princess. She smirked but it fell, probably nothing, even if her brother found out he'd just cover it up.

"Been telling Logan that for years, but he don't listen to me. Hopefully when you get the throne you can get rid of him. That might go a long way to helping Albion heal." He sat across from her and poured himself a large goblet of wine.

She was pensive for a few minutes, she supposed that would be a possibility but something didn't sit right with her, "He does have a lot of money though.." She trailed off.

Walter nearly spewed his drink, "Surely you are not suggesting what I think you are. I know you loved Elliot but that doesn't mean there isn't another chance for love-"

She held up her hand, "By no means will I ever even consider marrying that vermin. I was thinking more of this impending doom Logan always pussy-footed around." Pushing her goblet aside not willing to get inebriated or impaired in anyway she grabbed some bread.

Walter frowned, scratching his beard, "Do you honestly think there is some elusive, mysterious threat to Albion? Perhaps the truth is that Logan is merely power hungry."

She frowned, she was torn between her bitter hatred at Logan for what he did and the truth, she didn't say anything for a while, "Don't talk like them." She said quietly tilting her head in the direction of the sleeping members of the Resistance. "They want my brother's head on a spike for vengeance. We both know Logan wasn't like this at first. He changed, something changed him."

"Maybe that's true Princess, but that doesn't change what he's done to people, nor does it excuse it. Those people had families, had kids. Now they're in an orphanage. Just like that man Reaver shot. You know his wife killed their kids than shot herself when she found out?" He took a long swig of wine from his goblet.

She rubbed her eyes, sighing, "What would you have me do Walter? I am doing the best I can with what I have but don't expect me to be close pals with anyone here. They're just a different side of the same coin as my brother."

"I didn't mean to say it was your fault-" He began

"You don't have to say it, I know you all think it, at least if I had made a choice someone would have lived. Can't wait til I'm ruler and have more than one decision to make." She said bitterly, shoving her goblet off the table angrily. She stood up quickly, tears blurring her vision as she felt another suffocating panic attack coming on. They happened more and more often lately, but of course risking your life trying to overthrow your own brother from the throne does seem to instill some anxiety in a person. "I'm going for a walk, I have to get some fresh air." She said quickly, rushing from the room, not daring to meet Walter's eyes.

She wrinkled her nose at the horrendous stench as she walked towards the entrance, she constantly got lost in this labyrinth she only hoped she'd find the exit soon. As she rounded the last corner she heard men's voices and stepped out of the shadows gun drawn; relaxing only when she found a bunch of Page's men washing blood off themselves with proud grins plastered across their dirtied faces. "What's the occasion boys?" She asked sheathing her weapon.

"Finally got rid of a problem that's been a nuisance to this city's people for the last year." One of them boasted, she smiled.

"Good." With that she walked past them and into the cool nights air. She filled her lungs with the clean air and walked as fast as she could away from the entrance without raising suspicion from any prying eyes that may be wandering about the city at that hour. She had to get it together, lately she had been letting her emotions rule her and she knew that was a path to disaster. A leader and Queen had to be strong and confident, not emotionally crippled and indecisive. There was hardly any time for her introspection, she should be focusing on gathering followers. The task Page had set her had gone neglected when she learned of Reaver's party. Only a small few seemed interested in what she had to offer; she knew she had to change that. Mustering what energy she had she set out in the direction of Bowerstone Market, she loved that place so much; in fact she had been checking out the houses to see which one she'd most like to purchase. Although the thought of how close it was to the castle kept her on edge constantly, but she couldn't help admire the beauty of the town.

It wasn't long until voices drifted her way from a side street, she frowned wondering who else could be up and arguing at this hour of the night. She hoped it wasn't another domestic situation. She'd had quite enough dealing with those in Brightwall with Nathaniel and his wife. In a moment of sheer annoyance she managed to kill them both when she had only meant to kill Nathaniel, he was about to kill his wife after all. However she should have known better than to cast a spell while angry, it often fueled the magic to greater heights and sure enough it burned them both to a crisp and burned down the entire house. She had felt terrible about killing the woman but a spark of annoyance towards them both never seemed to die out. It was as if the entire nation was oblivious to each other's suffering, instead choosing to focus on petty squabbles.

With a sense of trepidation she knocked on the door before walking into the home, her eyebrows rising when he saw a huge table covered in what looked like a life-like remake of a small town, castle and forest. Three men in odd red robes surrounded it, one was holding a large green orb and looking at her with amazement sputtering about a hero playing as the hero. She looked confused for a bit as they explained what they wanted from her. It seemed that even at their age they liked to play pretend, she could understand the need to escape from reality for a bit, so indulged them. Holding the orb she looked expectantly at the men, "Is something supposed to happen?" She asked, suddenly feeling the terrible sensation of bugs crawling across her skin but when she looked nothing was there. She looked back up only to find that everyone had become massively taller than her, even Odys, her dog, she realized she must have shrunken, and protested as the one called Ben picked her up and placed her before the city gates.

For an hour she listened to them argue over pretty towns, pretty castles filled with teddy bears and butterflies. It grated on her nerves at first but the sarcasm was too much for her and she giggled, nearly peeing herself at the demonic fire-breathing chickens. She found herself just as disappointed as Ben when they died in one blast, she was having fun for the first time in a while just letting go and laughing. Killing things with no consequence without actually having to worry about coming to any real harm. She felt free and suddenly she was thankful to these guys, a renewed sense of what she was fighting for invigorated her. She hadn't realized how much heart and will power she had been losing since she left the castle. She had met only those who were cold-hearted murderer's, those who wanted things from her, those who judged her based on her brother's actions, and those who were selfish and self-absorbed. She had begun to doubt the people of this country, the only thing that had kept her fighting was her burning anger at Logan and the logical part of her telling her that the people didn't deserve to die for being who they were.

Hobbes, how she hated them, she knew from reading her Father's books how they became hobbes and it had always filled her with such profound pity and sympathy. When she first encountered them in the Monorail tunnel she didn't want to fight them even with Walter chiding her on but no matter how she had tried to get through to them or dodge them they just kept coming. She had had no choice, for such little creatures they sure took a lot to kill, they were an annoyance, but the fact that there were always so many still filled her with sorrow and trepidation.

She reached inside of her finding the spark that was her magic, she dragged it to the surface and held it there as long as she could before throwing her hands to the ground fiercely. Static electricity filled the suddenly cold air as lightning found its way into the bodies of the hobbes surrounding her and sharp icicles impaled them to the ground beneath. Ice and lightning had always been her favorite combination with the ability to stun and a wide spread attack that impaled the enemies who managed to escape her lightning. Magic was her weapon of choice, she figured that if captured they could take away swords and guns, perhaps even her gauntlets but she could never lose the magic inside of her. The gauntlets merely channeled it far more easily, often as a child she had done strange things with her magic in times of desperation, however none of it seemed useful. Only when she had received her first gauntlet did she begin to understand that magic needed a direct, precise target and intention, emotion itself could never fuel it enough to reach a favorable outcome.

She rolled on the ground, dodging the now-moving hobbes to become closer to the sorcerer ones, she dug her heels into the dirt and began casting until nothing but bones and a stench of fried meat lingering in the air was left. She turned to face the evil Baron who was standing on guard in front of the Princess, slowly making her way towards them she smirked at the irony. She was no damsel in distress like this girl was, and for once she gave a prayer of thanks for her powers. She listened to the man's voice, unsheathing the sword that would be the baron's downfall and in one swing he laid dead on the ground. If only all her enemies fell at her feet so easily. She stepped to the princess kissing her softly, as if she was fifteen once more and practicing against a mirror.

Suddenly she grew once more and found her feet on the real earth, little spots of light danced in her eyes and her legs shook with the sudden transformation but finally everything seemed normal. She listened to the men praising her, a smile lingering on her lips, she couldn't deny how much fun this had been. She hoped that she would be able to repeat this experience again in the future. Perhaps she'd convert one of the many meeting rooms to a special adventure game room such as this. She walked up to Ben, her nerves tingling soothingly with adrenaline, happiness and her recent use of magic, and kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you, I needed this." She spoke softly to him, affection warming her heart before she strode off. She chuckled to herself as she heard the other two complaining that it had been Ben who got the kiss from the pretty girl.

Meanwhile…

The men leaned against the brick factory, they were dressed in mercenary outfits but the likeness ended there. One was puffing away on a cigar while the other one seemed to be keeping an eye on the back door. "Put that thing out, he could come at any moment." the larger, more paranoid one said.

"If that was the case Reginald why aren't you in position?" The smaller one said snidely, yet he still threw his half-smoked cigar on the ground and stamped it out. Reginald huffed in annoyance and stalked off to the door.

"Well Marty are you going to come or not?" Reginald taunted, "Scared?"

"Hardly. Been waiting for this day for quite a while now, took me forever to convince the Master to send me on this assignment." Marty said. Both were now standing on either side of the doors, but only Reginald was visible.

"What does he want with this guy, anyway?" Reginald asked curiously.

"You are the brawns of the operation not the brain so don't worry about that. Just do what you are meant to and things will unfold from there." Marty smiled coldly, a thrill of anticipation travelling down his spine as he heard the unmistakable sounds of the arrogant man's strut approaching the door. He placed his finger to his lips and leaned further back into the shadows, unsheathing his blade.

The door cracked open to reveal the tall man, dressed in a white and black suit, tall top hat with goggles on it and a strange heart shaped birthmark on his cheek. "Hello there, Reaver." Reginald grinned menacingly stepping forward.

Reaver looked the man up and down, his lips curling in disgust before his customary smirk once more adorned his face, "Tut-tut, off to work now, before I decide to give you one of my legendary prizes. And I do so hate to waste my bullets."

Reginald scowled, "We're not one of your slaves Reaver, we have more pride than to disgrace ourselves by being associated in any way with you."

"Ah, my mistake gentlemen, I just assumed dressed in those rags you people like to call clothes that you must be one of the common riff-raff that infests our good cities." Reaver spoke loftily twirling his cane in his hand, his other hand resting on his hip where everyone knew his trusted dragonstomper .48 rested at all times. A warning sign for sure.

"You're right about one thing, there is an infestation in this city. You are a cancer to this nation Reaver, and you know what they say, we must take the trash out." Reginald grinned, sure enough in a blink of an eye Reaver had his gun out, but before he could pull the trigger Marty pounced from the shadows striking him savagely over the head with the hilt of his sword, delivering a swift blow to the temple. Reaver fell like a sack of potatoes at their feet. "That was almost too easy."

"Yes, men like Reaver, they often get arrogant and sloppy. So much for his hero constitution." Marty smirked.

"He's a hero?" Reginald blinked surprised, looking down fearfully at Reaver, Marty rolled his eyes.

"The Hero of Skill. Now grab him and let's go. We have to meet the Master at the docks." Marty snapped, he grabbed Reaver's gun off the ground as Reginald brutally kicked Reaver onto his stomach, a sickening crunch filling the air as the hero's ribs broke. Putting a knee roughly into the man's back Reginald yanked his arms behind him without mercy, as if he was trying to dislocate his arms and bound them tight at the wrists before throwing the man over his shoulder.

Marty led the way, a grin plastered across his face, the plan was going perfectly. All was as hoped for and soon he'd get his reward. His Master had paid him handsomely to bring this man to him, and he was much obliged to do so when he heard the gruesome reason why. One more monster off the streets, he couldn't wait to return to Page and watch as she rejoiced when the news of Reaver's disappearance became known. Perhaps than she'd notice him, he had spent months in the sewers with her and her crew on his master's orders. He hadn't meant to fall for her but she was a beautiful women, with a will of steel and enough angry resentment to fill a river.

Month after month he studied her, how she moved with purpose, her body straight and always on the ready a confident strut in her walk as her hips swayed. She commanded with an iron fist, yet her crew adored her; she always kept them protected and taken care of even if she was strict. They were brought together by a common goal: the betterment of Albion and the dethroning of both Logan and Reaver. Whereas his Master was more concerned with himself and his own goals to care about them, nor was he very organized the way Page was. If something happened to Page, the resistance would still carry on, but without his Master at the helm everything would fall to pieces. Not to mention his Master wasn't quite as noble or righteous as Page was, if it wasn't for the gold the man could offer he'd have nothing to do with him.

However, he desperately needed the gold, not only for Page and her people but also for his sick and dying sister's doctor. His fees were astronomical and it was all he could do to keep up with them. He had tried an honest days work but Reaver paid so little he couldn't even buy food for himself let alone take care of them both. No, crime was the only path that paid these days, and if this assignment brought a little bit of both justice and vengeance to the plate for his sister and others who suffered under Reaver, than he was all that more happy to oblige. Once they reached the southeast side of the docks he motioned for Reginald to drop Reaver, he almost winced in sympathy at the force Reginald had used in throwing Reaver down.

His master stood to the side smiling with a glint of happiness that could only be brought about by pure hatred and malice. The man was average height and terribly skinny, with grey hair and grey eyes that matched. A crooked nose and scarred mouth adorned his face. He walked over to the unconscious Reaver and kicked him in the side before dumping a bucket of ice cold water on him. Reaver groaned softly, his eyelids fluttering open slowly, his eyes were fogged with pain for merely a second before they sharpened and looked at those surrounding him. "Good job boys. I've been waiting decades to get my hands on you Reaver."

"Ah, that is something I am used to hearing quite often, although I am afraid you are far too old for my tastes old chap." Reaver quipped, his eye focusing in on the man hovering above him, obviously the mastermind of this plot.

"I have no interest in bedding you, you monster." He spat, "Oh no, I have far more satisfying things planned for you, but alas, it appears as if you don't recognise me. Then again we never met, my daughter on the other hand looked just like me when I was her age. Before you murdered her. Do you remember her Reaver? Do you remember Allison?" the man shook with rage, his lips drawn into a tight thin line.

"Ah yes, how could I forget? That was merely twenty years ago, she was an exquisite girl, beautiful eyes, and had a perfect pair of titties on her…" Reaver trailed off, wincing in pain as the man kicked him in the side.

"Don't you speak of my girl like that, you disgusting depraved beast." He roared, delivering another kick to Reaver's ribs drawing a pained gasp from between his lips. "Although twenty years must only be like last week to you I suppose."

Marty and Reginald looked at each other confused, before the elder man looked up from Reaver, "How much do you boys know of Wraithmarsh?" They both shrugged as if they never heard of it. "Well in wraithmarsh resides a temple full of dark creatures, ones with which you can make deals with in return for other humans. Years ago, Reaver walked into that place and made a deal for immortality, the creatures granted him his wish, but in exchange he must bring a young woman or man to be sacrificed to them each year. So he can stay forever young. He killed my daughter for his own vanity!" He shouted near the end.

Reginald began laughing, while Marty scowled, "That's ridiculous, next thing you'll say he's over 500 years old!" Marty stomped on his foot and shook his head.

"I am not quite that old, I am closer to three hundred years old actually, and yet I'm still as irresistibly handsome as the day I made the deal. I remember your daughter fondly, thanks to her I am now scarless. I thank you for your generous donation." Reaver smirked coldly, the man's face turned a deep shade of red as anger shook him, he managed to calm himself enough to go completely ice cold. "So are you here to kill me?" Reaver mocked as if truly amused by the prospect of his impending death.

The man's lips drew into a twisted smile, menace glittering in his eyes, "Oh no, my dearest Reaver, death is too good for you. All these years I have lived in misery and pain at the loss of my daughter, the only thing keeping me alive was my overwhelming need for vengeance, and now that it is here I am going to make the moment last."

Marty glared down at Reaver, this man was more hideous on the inside than he could have ever imagined. He spared a glance of sympathy for his Master, he wouldn't know what he'd do if he lost his sister in such a horrendous way, but whatever his master planned to do to this man he deserved. He could see Reginald shift uncomfortably next to him and rolled his eyes, he hated men with no need to be in this business other than violence for gold or it's own sake, Reginald was definitely one of those men. How he wished he could have a normal life but he felt trapped by his own life's circumstances. He watched as his Master wadded up a rag and punched Reaver in the stomach, using the split second Reaver's mouth was open to shove the balled up rag into it. "Can't have you attracting as much attention as you usually do, not until I'm done with you anyway." He looked up at Reginald, "Grab him and follow me." Reginald did as he was told and within five minutes they were in another section of sewers not connected with the resistance's section.

Reaver struggled in Reginalds arms but it was no use, Reginald was a solid piece of muscle, and after a few turns in the sewer system Reginald dumped him. There was a table set against the wall with different instruments and a bottle of some acrid smelling chemical. The man ripped the gag out of Reaver's mouth and smiled, "I want to hear you scream for me."

"Like I said before, so not my type darling." Reaver said slyly, his head tilted high, eyes cold. With that the man began to beat Reaver savagely, sending hard blows to his face, stomach and chest, his legs kicking out in a steady rhythm. For minutes Reaver stayed silent, but this seemed to only egg his Master on. Finally a sudden crack and Reaver cried out. A satisfied grin swept across his Master's face as another rib broke. His master took a break leaning against the wall, looking winded, he wondered what else he could possibly do, but then he took out a dagger and began to slice through Reaver's skin. Blood pooled beneath the rich man and Marty noticed the ropes binding Reaver's wrists becoming slick, "Watch his hands!" He shouted a warning to his master.

The elder man tackled Reaver to the ground, his knee digging hard into Reavers' chest. "Give me the bottle Marty." He did as he was told, letting the old man uncap it. Reaver looked at it with a slight look of worry in his eyes, the old man was obviously pleased to see it. "I'm sorry I couldn't make this last longer my dear fellow but I daresay this will be sweet regardless. You took something most precious away from me and now I'm going to take something precious away from you, hero of skill." with that he put on a pair of gloves and held Reaver's left eye open first. It was then the arrogant man understood what was happening and began to wildly struggle but with help from Reginald they managed to mostly still Reaver. Reginald closed his eyes as his Master poured the foul chemicals into Reaver's eyes. Marty had never heard such a blood-curdling scream in all his life, it cut right down to the bones as it went on and on, intermingled with sobs and curses. The smell was suffocating and Reaver clawed at his face convulsing wildly on the ground.

Reginald had a better view of Reaver's face and he threw up on the ground, the old man was laughing as he gave Reaver one swift kick, "Now you must live forever in your pain Reaver, while I will eventually die and join my daughter." He spit on Reaver and left, Marty and Reginald following quickly behind. Marty could still here Reaver's screams of pain as he exited the sewers.

With the Princess….

Her stomach growled as she looked at the sun, it was mid-afternoon, she stopped at the nearest market and grabbed some fruit and fish and ate quietly by the water. Once full she decided it was time to head to Industrial, she had been avoiding the place like the plague for some reason. It had so far been a good day, one of the few she had in a long while. She had spent the day making friends with the people and helping them with various things, she was tired but it was a nice type of tired, the productive type. She made her way in record time to the more gloomy part of the city, where the poor wandered the street begging but no children could be heard playing. The city was dark and dreary, as if the depression that crippled the people manifested itself in the city's walls.

She gave money to every passing beggar as she made her way to the orphanage seeing if they needed any help when she went near a frantic man mumbling to himself. "Is something wrong sir?" She asked stepping towards him.

"Will you help me please?! I lost the wedding ring I bought for my girlfriend in the sewers! If I don't get it back-well I can't afford another one and you see, this one was personalized, please can you try to find it? I'd go down myself but you know how the sewers are-bandits and hobbes and bats!" He said without taking a breath.

"Of course, I'd be glad to help you, stay here." She said, sighing. Walter was right, the amount of time they spent in caves and sewers was getting a bit redundant and old. If she never went near another sewer in her life she'd be glad. She stepped into the foul smelling man-made tunnel system and began walking. She could see bodies of hobbes and mercenaries laying around, her brows furrowed. Someone had been here already, but who? She followed the trail of bodies to a more desolate, isolated part of the tunnels. The smell was even worse here, a strange odor filled the air and it burned her nostrils. She put a hand over her mouth and went forward, blinking back the tears as the air stung her eyes.

She could make out the crumpled form of a man, she kneeled by his side, and was relieved to find him breathing. She frowned the attire seemed familiar, though it was hard to tell when it was caked in filth and blood. So much blood. She turned him over and gasped. Blood coated his face and chest, his breathing was wheezy and he clearly had a broken nose, but where his eyes were supposed to be was nothing but the liquified remains of them, chemical blisters on his face. Yet it was still unmistakably Reaver. 'My god who could have done this?' It was disgusting and despicable. Yes Reaver was a terrible, dark, demented and sick man, but this was by far the most depraved thing she had seen in all her travels. At least When Reaver killed a man it was quick, this was torture.

Her stomach churned, unsure what to do, leave him here? Kill him? After all he did cause the people to suffer without once giving anything back. All the heinous crimes he committed so callously, maybe this was justice. She looked at his unconscious face again and swallowed thickly, no, this wasn't justice. This was evil. She didn't want to be like Page, didn't want to be a different side of the same coin. Plus sparing him might have its benefits, he did wield such power and money, she could easily call in the favor he would most definitely owe her. She kneeled besides him and lifted him into seated position, jostling him awake once more, he tensed and began to struggle. He lashed out, seizing her by the neck and squeezing. For being blind the man still seemed to know where she was. She threw herself back, giving herself enough room to kick out. Her foot collided with his groin and he groaned, his grip loosening enough for her to pull out of it.

"Haven't you done enough damage to me already? Or have you decided to finally kill me after all?" He snarled, his lips curling.

"Well as tempting as that is, it's not quite as much fun with you in such a state, I'd be taking advantage I'd think." She said, his head turned up to her as if he could see her.

He frowned, then his face went slack, "Princess." She was surprised he remembered her voice, after all she had only spoken twice the entire time during his little game.

"Yes. What the hell happened Reaver?" She demanded her hands on her hips.

"Just ran into an old friend is all." He tried to smile but failed, for some reason this disheartened her. She was already used to his smirking face and dark sarcasm, it was odd to see him stripped of both. She had seen him at the castle plenty of times, meeting with her brother, and spied on them enough as well.

"Perhaps you should choose better friends, if you even have any." She commented, she grabbed his arm, fighting with him as he tried to pull away, "Reaver knock it off! You're not making this easy."

"Oh I do so apologise your majesty that I'm not taking my impending death with the grace you are used to." He spat, she rolled her eyes giving an exasperated sigh.

"I am not going to kill you, I had ample time to do so when you were unconscious. I'm trying to get you up, we need to get you out of here." She said firmly.

He snorted in disbelief but stopped fighting, "Whatever you say Princess." She threw his arm over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist, dragging him to his feet. He cried out for a second before biting his lip, his breathing becoming worse.

"Rib-Broken." He ground out between clenched teeth, with one hand around him she searched her belt for the herbs she needed, finding the one she wanted she held it up.

"Open up Reaver." She demanded.

"Oh my, usually I'm the one saying that." Reaver commented dryly, she stifled a smile, she would not laugh at this despicable mans innuendoes. She placed the leaves in his mouth and waited for it to go into effect, soon he sagged against her, tired and drained but without pain. "So where are you taking me then?"

"I honestly have no idea." She sighed, she didn't dare take him to his home, even if they could make it that far without being attacked she had no idea if the person who did this to him was still out there, waiting. With the amount of enemies Reaver had she doubted she'd be able to figure it out any time soon. Nor could she very well walk into an inn with one of the most well-known and hated people in the nation, the palace was out of the question for obvious reasons. It was either the sanctuary or Resistance Headquarters. She groaned Page would hate her, she'd have to argue for Reaver, she glared at the man. She didn't want to take him to the sanctuary, the less people who knew about it the better, which left headquarters. At least he was blind.