I do not own "Fable 3" or any of the "Fable" Series - Lionhead Studios does.

Based on the 2010 XBOX Game.

Rated M for Explicit Adult Content.

Special warning – rape, torture, and possibly incest.

The Princess and Major Swift are prisoners in the Castle's Dungeons. Can they find comfort and solace with each other, and more importantly, escape? Does Logan even know his sister is in captivity?

Jealousy and Possession

Chapter 1

"Where is the rebel traitor, Page?" A sharp cut across her back caused her to cry out.

"What is she up to?" Another crack of the whip and a trickle of blood snaked its way down her spine.

"What have you to do with her?" She barely heard the question over her own cries and sobs. The questions bombarded Sarie like a barrage of bullets. So did the whip lashings across her back. How was she enduring this pain? How was it that she was able to bear the sting of the whip, not to mention the fact that she was in the dungeons of the castle that was once her home? Princess Sarie had been apprehended in Bowerstone Industrial and marched to the castle in chains. Thankfully she had been far enough from the sewer entrance to the underground hideout of the Rebels that the soldiers had not seen the door. Still, she had been close enough to where they suspected Page, the leader of the Bowerstone Underground was, and that, combined with her notoriety as the Hero of Brightwall, caused her to be suspected of treason and arrested. She hadn't seen her brother, King Logan, when they reached the castle, much less anyone else she knew or who knew her. The soldiers had no idea who she was! They plainly did not know that she was not only the Hero, but their Princess.

Her appearance had somewhat changed, yes, but only a year had passed since her mentor and guardian, Sir Walter Beck, had spirited her away from the castle in the middle of the night. Since then her life had been one of relentless training to be the new Hero of Albion and, according to the blind Seeress Theresa, who had guided the Heroes in her family for generations, she was destined to overthrow her 'tyrannical' brother, King Logan, and become Albion's Queen. Not only did Sarie have to accept those shocking and deeply disturbing revelations, but she was also expected to rescue Albion from some great evil that would utterly destroy it if she was not a successful monarch. The young Princess had indeed become a Hero in the year she had been away from her brother, but she was not yet strong enough to overthrow him and seize the Crown. She also had allies among some of Albion's people, but not enough for a successful Revolution. Not yet.

Her success and rising popularity had, unfortunately, clouded her judgement and made her careless. She had become accustomed to traveling about Bowerstone and the surrounding areas without hindrance. The popular Hero of Brightwall had thought herself perfectly safe within the confines of Bowerstone. Nobody, save for Walter, her butler Jasper, and the leaders of the allies she had so far befriended, knew that she was the Princess. One of her allies, Major Swift, the head of the Swift Brigade which was stationed in the undead-riddled swampland known as Mourningwood, not only knew her identity, but he knew her personally as well.

Oh, Major Swift! He had, unknowingly and much to Sarie's embarrassment, captured her interest, and not simply as a Major, but as a man. He was, according to Walter, who was his best friend, forty years of age and unquestionably the best soldier in Albion. Sarie was two and twenty. Likely he would never give her more than a passing glance as a potential wife if he looked her way at all. Most likely he would immediately dismiss her as being too young for him. Major Jack Swift was, in Sarie's eyes, an extremely handsome and dashing gentleman. He was well-spoken, cultured, educated, and possessed gracious and elegant manners that rivaled those of the nobles in Bowerstone's Royal Court. Yet he was a soldier under Logan's command. At first that puzzled Sarie, as she would not have expected such a man to enter military service. However, as she came to know the Major, she realised that he had indeed followed the path best suited for him. He was a man who lived to serve and protect. The safety and welfare of others was a responsibility he took seriously and held close to his heart. He had also told her, while they worked on her firearms practice, that he came from a long line of, as he phrased it, 'almost upper class but not quite,' Swifts who served the Crown.

The Major wore the traditional red uniform jacket, white trousers, black boots and gloves, and the appropriate cording and decorations of his rank. His face was not one that most women would consider remarkably handsome, but his features were pleasant and his expression open and kindly. His dark eyes were expressive and often showed his admiration for Sarie's rapid increase in skills, as well as what appeared to be genuine affection for her. Sarie adored his thick black hair with the dashing white streak at his forehead which he combed to the left. He also had a thick 'gentleman's mustache' that Sarie admired. But it was not only his looks that captured Sarie's budding romantic interest, it was the man himself. Jack Swift was a man of strong principles, honour, and discipline, but he was also open and engaging and easily conversed with Sarie, who had been highly educated at the palace. He had made her feel comfortable with him from the moment they met. The nervous young Princess quickly came to the conclusion that Mourningwood Fort was where she could easily belong.

He was a fair and just leader and cared for his men and their welfare above his own. However, that very trait stung Sarie's womanly pride more than just a little, as she had, during their time together, come to care deeply for him and desired to become more than his friend. Overhearing him speak with Walter of the women in his past wounded her sensitive heart, as well as Walter's occasional remarks that Swift should soon 'find an appropriate woman' to settle with before it came time for him to retire. Swift staunchly replied that he had no desire to retire until Sarie was Queen of Albion and he, according to her formal promise to him, was made General of the Royal Army and assisted her in defeating the coming Evil. Could he ever see her as a potential wife? Sarie and he got on so well that before she left Mourningwood Fort with Walter, they exchanged friendly hugs and confidences daily. She longed for him to even once kiss her hand or look at her and see that she was a woman and not only the Hero Princess, but he did not. Or did he? On several occasions she was almost positive that she had caught him studying her when he believed she did not notice, and she was also certain that he had sketched her likeness in a book that he kept tucked in a hidden pocket inside his uniform coat. Of course that did not indicate that he had any romantic interest in her, but Sarie could not help but hope. Her loving and hopeful heart could do no less.

She had had many suitors over the years, but thankfully Logan had never pressured her to accept one of them as a husband. But Logan had... No, surely his behaviour and sometimes 'unbrotherly' affectionate gestures toward her were only in her imagination! The looks of longing were surely only asking for her reassurance, and his touches on her lower back, her chin, cheeks, and the holding of her hands were merely gestures of brotherly love. The fact that Logan did not have a Queen only meant that at eight and twenty he was too busy running Albion and still young enough to not have to worry about finding a bride and begetting heirs just yet. Sarie recalled that her best friend since childhood, Elliot, was not liked by Logan. Elliot was her age, handsome, and had just formally applied to Logan to court her when Walter spirited her away.

Logan had forced her to make a terrible choice that day. He had seized the leaders of a protest group outside the castle and was sentencing them to death when Sarie and Elliot had burst into the War Room in an attempt to stop him. Logan's eyes had never betrayed such sadness and disappointment as they had at the moment she declared that she would not allow him to murder those people. Then, in but the space of a moment, his visage had hardened into frightening fury and he ordered her to be taken to the Throne Room. Once there he declared that Sarie had a choice to make; either the leaders of the protestors would be executed as violent insurgents, or Elliot would be put to death as a spy. While Sarie stood in shock and horror and found herself unable to speak, Logan spoke to her slowly and with an eerie calm that made her blood feel frozen in her veins.

"Having difficulty making the right decision, sister? Well, let me help you. If you don't decide by the time I count down from five, they will all die. Five, four, three..."

"Please, Sarie, choose me! They shouldn't all have to die!" Elliot had begged her. "You must choose me!" Sarie had burst into tears and cried out for Logan to spare the villagers. Elliot had reached out to her but two soldiers pulled him away from Sarie before their hands could touch or their fingers brush. "I'll always love you, Sarie," Elliot said, his tear-filled eyes locking on hers. "You did the right thing." As she sobbed he was dragged outside and executed by a single gunshot to his head.

Had she really stood so still and stupidly for all those long and agonizing minutes in the Throne Room with Logan gazing impassively at her from his throne while Elliot was dying just outside the window? Had she really lost her voice, her feelings, and every last vestige of courage she had before confronting Logan? After the soldiers had departed from the Throne Room Logan slowly went to her, speaking softly as he approached. His cape swirled around him and his golden chest plate gleamed. His eyes sparked with a strange and disconcerting glint that unnerved her.

"Sarie, try to understand that as King of Albion I must make difficult choices every day. Order must be maintained. The good of the many must take precedence over the good of the few. Do you truly think it is easy for me to rule this country?" Sarie was silent, tears of loneliness and despair still streaming down her pale face. She wanted to flinch when Logan gently traced his fingertip down a tear-stained cheek, but her body was frozen and immovable. "Sarie, please understand and love me still. Love me. Will you do that for me?" His voice softened further and his eyes beseeched her, their eerie glint gone and replaced with soft resignation and pleading. "Will you?"

It was only then that she found her voice and her body returned to her command. "I cannot believe you've become such a monster!" she cried out in horror and fury. "You forced me to have Elliot killed when you could have spared them all! You made me kill the one man who loves me!" She pulled away from him and ran.

"Sarie," Logan called, sounding more desperate than she had ever heard him in her entire life, "you are wrong about that!"

A few months later she was still grieving over the loss of her dearest friend. She had to admit to herself that she had not loved Elliot as he had loved her, but still, she missed him. She also felt that even though she had spared a handful of lives in his place she was more responsible for his death than Logan had been. Only when she had come to know Major Swift had she begun to move on past grieving over Elliot and that awful day. Sarie was no child, and it was not because she was well over twenty. She was a mature and capable woman, and from her education and life in the Castle, she had learned so much about the natures of people, both good and bad, that many citizens of Albion would likely have been surprised. So, when Sarie realised without a doubt that she was falling in love with Major Swift, she knew she was not merely entertaining a girlish fancy. Her feelings for the man ran deep and true.

When had they begun? She did not know, but she feared that they would forever be unrequited. What made matters worse was that she found Jack Swift physically desirable. There were times when his every touch, no matter how impersonal, sent tremors through her body. His cultured voice sent shivers down her spine. His dark eyes, when he would lock his gaze with hers, would inevitably cause that secret place between her thighs to moisten with frustrated desire. She had only ever had sexual relations with Elliot. No, she had not loved him in such a way, but she had once believed that some day she would and that they would marry. Besides, she discovered that she enjoyed the act. Thankfully Elliot was not a man who ever risked pregnancy. He always used a condom and they were very discreet when they did come together. Sarie was almost certain that Logan did not know that she had given up her virginity, but did it matter? He had his affairs from time to time and didn't care who knew. He also had never forbidden her to lay with a man, much less ever broach the subject with her.

Now she wished that the Major would see her as a woman and not just the Princess who would promote him to General when she became Queen. He was older than she, true, but marriages between people with even more years between them were not uncommon. Or did he simply not have any such interest in her at all? Would he ever? Could he? Sarie had never felt more joy, yet also more loneliness, than she had while at Mourningwood Fort. She did not feel that she could confide her feelings to Walter. Walter was like a father to her, and Swift was his friend. She could not imagine that he would approve of her loving his closest confidante.

Suddenly her reminiscences were interrupted by a fresh wave of white-hot agony that lanced over her back and scored her flesh deeper than before. "Where is the rebel, Page?"

Sarie heard herself helplessly screaming, but she did not dare utter a single word. If she did she feared she would not be able to stop and would therefore betray her Underground Allies.

"Stop hurting her!" she heard a man's voice shout. "Shut it!" someone else, obviously a prison guard, said gruffly.

"Do you even know who she is?" the man called out again.

Sarie was so stunned that for a moment she felt no pain as another lash sliced her back. It was Swift! He was here in the same prison she was!

"Who is she, you traitorous piece of filth?" the guard asked Swift.


"Well? You seem to think she's more than just my whore for the night," her torturer said.

It was only then that Sarie remembered that she was hanging from her wrists by shackles that were already causing blood to run down her arms from chafing and her involuntary struggling. Her toes couldn't even touch the floor. Had she been drugged and that was why she didn't even remember being taken to the dungeons much less being strung up by her wrists to be 'interrogated'?

"She's a lady and she obviously knows nothing or she would have told you by now!" Swift said, his voice quavering. "Does the King even know you have a woman down here?"

"He doesn't care who we have," the guard said. "This is my prison and I'm in charge here." He stopped whipping Sarie and tossed the bloodied leather aside. "But I think you just may be right, 'Captain' Swift. What say I let her down and...make it up to her?"

"No, please don't," Swift said, suddenly sounding terrified.

Sarie had no idea what the men were talking about. Didn't the guard merely intend to clean her up and present her to Logan? Even if Logan despised her now, surely he would not condone her continued torture. But, her slowly clearing mind recalled, the guard had said that Logan did not know she was there. So, did that also mean that he had no intention of telling him? If so... And then she knew. This man intended to rape her! He had just called her his whore, but her muddled brain had not taken him literally. Now she knew better. But she would not beg this vile man for mercy. She would not.

The guard snapped his fingers and another man climbed atop a foot stool to unlock Sarie from her shackles. Another held her by her waist until she was free.

"You two leave. This little lady has to earn her blanket for the night," her torturer said.

"Fine, Phillips," one retorted, "but if she turns out to be somebody important, we had nothing to do with it!"

"Just get your arses out of here," Phillips snapped.

Sarie was released and she sagged to the floor in anguish and exhaustion. She tried to find Swift's face and when she spotted him inside a dank and dirty cell she wished that she had not. Jack Swift had obviously been severely beaten and endured far more than she had. His 'prison whites' were filthy and blood-stained. His hair was matted and she saw clots of blood in it. His face was bruised and sported numerous cuts and abrasions. His chest was marred with lines of dried blood. He had either been sliced with a knife, whipped frontally; or both. Sarie gagged, but thankfully did not vomit. That would be a further show of helplessness that was not acceptable for her to betray.

Slowly her strength began to return. Swift's eyes bored into hers and his face was so sad and sympathetic that she attempted to smile to reassure him, even if only a little. His lips curved very slightly but a genuine smile failed him. He turned to Phillips.

"Please, do whatever you like to me, but spare her! She doesn't know anything!"

Phillips looked down at Sarie and his eyes raked lasciviously over her body. Her own prison whites were torn and bloody, but they were not as concealing as Swift's. The male shirt was too large on her and the tops of her breasts were easily visible. She hadn't even been given trousers, so her legs were entirely bare. She had no idea if during her whipping if her lower body had been indecently exposed or not.

"So, what's your name?" Phillips asked her. Sarie quickly came up with a lie. She remembered a conversation with Swift when he had been telling her about his family. His mother's name was Louisa.

"Louisa," she whispered.

"Well, Louisa," Phillips said, "I'll give you a choice. I think you already know that there's no way in the Hells that I'm going to leave your hands free to use that fancy magic of yours, so your going to be cuffed. But other than that, if you want a blanket and water, you'll have to earn it."

"Phillips!" Swift called out, "please, take it out on me! Give her my cell; just don't hurt her or make her do anything! She's had more than enough!"

"No," Sarie groaned, "don't listen to him. What do you want?"

No matter what this despicable man would make her do, she did not want the man she loved to suffer in her stead.

He roughly flipped her onto her belly and handcuffed her wrists behind her back. Magic was definitely out of the question. Truthfully, Sarie had no hope for herself or Swift at the moment. If they were to either escape or be released, it would not be this night. She was turned back over and saw the smirking guard unfastening his breeches.

"You're going to use that pretty little mouth on me and use it good else you get no water, no cot, and to top it off I'll take your 'friend' Swift out for a nice little interrogation session for you both to enjoy."

"No, please, I'll do whatever you say!" she whispered, hoping that Swift could not hear her. He seized her wild red curls in his dirty fists and hauled her to her knees. To Sarie's further mortification he turned their bodies sideways so that Swift could have the best view if he watched. But surely he had no intention of doing so!

"Now, you watch this little lady, Swift, and watch good. If you don't I'll take her in a way that will make her scream herself more hoarse than she is now. Get me?"

For the first time since her imprisonment Sarie felt fury begin to form. It was a small ember in the back of her mind that was pure rage and hate, but it was there, regardless of how small it was at the present. She knew then that it was only a matter of time before she would kill this man. Involving Jack Swift had sealed his Fate. For now she was helpless, however. Phillips dragged her face to his reeking member and she obediently opened her mouth. There was nothing for it. She had to do as this man said whether he would keep his word about a blanket and water or not. If she did not she would either be further tortured or Jack would and she would not risk that.

Jack. She had begun to think of him as Jack whether he could ever, even in her wildest imaginings, love her or not. She coughed and gagged as the thick rod of flesh invaded her dry mouth and throat and began to pump vigorously. One hand held her head still by her hair, and the other reached down and pulled at her prison shirt. A few tugs and it was off and she was naked.

"You've one ripe little body," Phillips panted as Sarie fought to not vomit from his relentless pumping. He grasped at a breast. "Ah, yes, pretty and ripe little melons you have, too! If you're a very good girl, I just may stop 'interrogating' you and you can be my very own woman. If you're very, very good, I can make your life bearable."

His swollen member hardened and thickened even more. Sarie felt each bulging and pulsing vein as she struggled to contain all of him. Even Elliot had never used her mouth so roughly. He had always been slow and gentle when she pleasured him like that. He also had always been clean. And he was not so large. This perverted beast of a man twisted her nipple so hard she cried out around his cock and at that moment her torment was both doubled and blessedly over. He held her head so firmly that she was forced to swallow his vile seed as he came with a bellow of animal-like pleasure.

He thrust her to the floor and refastened his breeches. He didn't even notice when Sarie vomited onto the dirt floor, or if he did, he didn't care. He had gotten what he wanted.

"Tell you what, Louisa, I'll do you even better because you were such a good little girl. I'll give you company tonight."

He hauled her to her feet by her arm and propelled her, still naked, to Swift's cell. He unlocked the door and shoved her violently inside. She tumbled face down onto a pile of blankets and straw and the door slammed shut. At once Swift crawled to her. His chained wrists and ankles slowed him, but he was undeterred. Phillips left a single torch burning for the only two prisoners in this area of the dungeon and departed, the heavy door at the top of the stairs clicking shut behind him.

"I'm so sorry!" he whispered to her, turning her gently onto her back. He was chained to the wall, but had several feet of slack for each limb.

"It's...all right," she replied weakly. "I didn't expect this to be easy, Major."

In truth, she was sickened and utterly mortified. She was naked before the man she loved above all else and everyone else and had just been used like a common whore in front of him!

"No, no," he murmured, his voice breaking, "it certainly is not."

He took a blanket and carefully wrapped Sarie as best he could. Then he helped her sit upright. "May I...hold you, Sarie? My arms are a poor shelter, I'm afraid, but if I can be of any comfort to you at all, please allow me to be."

She could only nod as tears streamed afresh down her face. She leaned gratefully against his chest and sobbed.

Jack stroked her back gently, avoiding the bloody slashes that were beginning, thankfully, to heal. "You are the most incredible woman I have ever known," he said to her. "You are strong, you are beautiful, you are amazing in every way and I will gladly die for you."

Sarie quickly lifted her head to look into his red-rimmed eyes. "No!" she gasped. "Never say that! We will get out of here together, Major. Even if I get the chance, I'll not leave without you; that I swear."

"Jack," he said. "My name is Jack." He hesitated. "Sarie, I doubt I can change your mind..."

"You can't."

"Then let me, at the very least, show you a little of how much I..." He hesitated once more. Then he took a deep breath and continued. "Sarie, let me care for you. Let me comfort you. And perhaps, some day, if you will do me the tremendous honour, allow me to..." He did not complete his sentence but contented himself with kissing her forehead. "For now let me be here for you."