Hellooo~There.
Fable III has gotten to my head... And I was a bit miffed that Ben Finn doesn't get any love. Also, where did all of the interesting spells from Fable I & II go?

I found that most of the fanfictions on here are PrincessXBenFinn, but I think they both would be bored after a while. I mean, Finn as King? That's a pretty scary thought. Hahaha.
Thus, the creation of this beast.

SO IN THE SPIRIT OF RPG ONWARD.
(Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything Fable. I also promise that there is nothing Mary Sue about Blythe, so expect plenty of angst and conflict. The main story and plot of the game will not be affected by the existence of this character. Be sure to eat plenty of vegetables daily, and remember that milk is a good source of calcium. Ahem.)

Fable is rated M, so my story is as well.


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"Find her... for me, Blythe."

An old, vein-covered hand weakly held a young, scarred one.

"I will, Mother." Her daughter whispered.

The dying woman raised her free hand with the last of her strength, and pointed a gnarled finger toward the small worn desk in the corner. Her vapid breath sent a small shudder throughout her frail body.

Blythe stood as her joints groaned in protest. Her boots left a resounding thud with each step as she stiffly made her way to her Mother's favorite side of the room. She couldn't feel a damn thing, not even the crinkle of the parchment as her dominant left hand blindly swiped it from the desk. She was too busy holding back the river of tears that threatened to cascade from her eyes.

At the time Blythe was not new to the process of death. Rose, her mother, had taken many husbands in her time, all of whom had been the burly, adventurer type. None of them lived very long due to their risky endeavors, but each had treated young Blythe as their own blood. She was always the overbearing daughter, asking for training and stories. In fact, her fathers were her only childhood friends. She found the village girls boring with their dolls and clean cut dreams of being average, mundane housewives.

It was assumed that all of the lovers Rose took were hearty attempts at replacing her first husband, Blythe's father Derrik. She struggled even more to hold back her tears as she let herself think of him.

Derrik was a lumberjack, and a fine one at that. He had long, dark red hair that he kept in a loose braid, bright forest green eyes, a stout build, and a decent amount of scruff on his strong jaw. He often traveled with his crew to find the finest grain of wood, fueled by the high demand Bowerstone had for quality and luxury. It was on one of these trips that his group came to rest in a small Gypsy settlement on the Eastern side of Albion's great mountains.

He did not expect to fall deeply for the leader of the settlement, a rough woman named Rose with sharp eyes and the blood of a Hero. But love, as always, had it's way.

Rose would fight off the occasional Balverine, Bandit, or Hobbe infestation. Otherwise, the town was generally quiet. She instead often used her Will abilities to heal villagers and help with general community chores (made easy thanks her inhuman strength). She was a force to be reckoned with, and the best Chieftain the Gypsies ever had. Men saw her as an equal and treated her as such.

Derrik had taken a nasty fall from high in a tree and found himself limping into the modest cabin of the young healer. When he first laid eyes on her, he realized that he could never leave the small hamlet. It didn't help that one look from the gruff man made Rose weak in the knees.

Her mother would often tease him and say, "He was such a prat, you know, when we first met. Compensated for his height by being as loud as he could manage. Always whipping his braid around and shaking the trees with his laughter. Don't marry a git like him, Blythe. You'll get gray before you can blink twice."

Her father would be sitting nearby in his favorite chair. Upon hearing his wife he would develop a huge grin, so large that his eyes would wrinkle at the edges.

"Oi Lass, you know I make up for it in many, many other ways. Just because I'm a foot shorter doesn't mean I'm not a foot long-"

And her mother would always cover her ears at this point, nag her husband, and grin just as big as he did.

Her childhood memories were full of the stories her parents would tell her. Most often, they were tales of the great Heroes. Her favorite story, however, had always been of her mother's death and resurrection.

Rose would describe the bright blue light, and she could always recall the vision of her sister perfectly.

"And then I woke up here, in the care of the previous Chief. I sent a letter to your aunt as soon as I was able, and some day Blythe, some day she will reply. Then we will be a full family again."

But their family would become even more broken than Rose realized.

A lone tear ran down Blythe's cheek.

Derrik's death had supposedly been quick. The pack of Balverienes was the largest the community had seen in a century, and he had given his life in order to lead the beasts into a deadly trap.

Rose was devastated. Blythe wasn't quite old enough to completely understand it all. She immersed herself even deeper into the stories, in an attempt to distract her young mind from the loss of her father.

"So Momma, I'm a Hero too, right?" Young Blythe asked excitedly, gripping her mother's skirt as the woman finished yet another story about her ancestors.

"Yes Baby, you are."

Blythe's Little face became troubled as she twisted it in thought.

"But what about Daddy?"

Rose's eyes would always tear up at the mention of him, but her mother never faltered.

"Sometimes love, it's not blood that makes a Hero. It's also actions and decisions that make someone great."

For comfort, her mother lifted Blythe gently and held her tightly, letting soft tears fall into the child's crimson hair.

"Your Father was more of a Hero than I could ever wish to be."

For years, Rose attempted to fill in the gap that Derrik had left, allowing herself to become infatuated with the occasional handsome vagabond. Over the years, however, the heartbreak became too great.

Eventually the woman gave up.

When Blythe came of age, Rose began focusing on marrying her daughter off in the hopes that she would settle down with a much more stationary man.

These attempts failed miserably.

Blythe inherited her father's hair, her grandfather's sea green eyes, and her mother's fire. Her curves and heart shaped face attracted them at first, but she would always best them at something or another and scare them all away.

Eventually Blythe gave up, chopped off all of her hair, and focused on helping her mother in every way that she could.

Actually, she remembered that day fondly. Her mother had helped her cut it down to the point that it was short and wavy, but lectured her the entire time. They both decided to leave a single long lock in the front with her bangs, in memory of her Father. At the moment, its tip rested at about her navel, and she often wore it as a braid with beads and ribbons.

The men really stopped paying attention to her after that.

And time went on. Her mother grew old.

Eventually Blythe became the head of their small family, and even perfected hunting. She earned the title of "Hunter" in the community, but did not run for the position of Chieftain so she could take care of Rose as she aged. Blythe grew to be a strong young woman.

The community eventually moved on and forgot their Heroes.

The two became outcasts, but were satisfied with the company of each other.

And now... Now her only family was about to leave her.

Her Mother's groan tore her out of her thoughts. Blythe immediately returned to kneel at Rose's bedside, her heart beating fiercely in panic.

"Blythe" The woman whispered. "My time is ending. Take the map. You've got... you've got to find..."

Rose's dry lips opened and closed, but her breath had run out. She struggled to inhale again.

"I will Momma, I will."

Blythe's tears were flowing freely now. Her mother's worn hand gently lifted to her cheek.

"I... I'm going to give you something." Rose smiled with tears in her eyes.

A thick pressure grew inside of the room.

Will markings began to form on Rose's body, emitting a soft blue glow throughout the room.

Blythe closed her eyes as her markings came alight as well, shimmering on her face and arms.

The small objects on the shelves started to rattle. Suddenly, a bright light burst from their bodies and filled the entire house.

Outside, a small group of still faithful villagers had gathered. The windows shattered, forcing them to duck into safety. The whole house shook violently for a few moments, but then suddenly, everything became still.

This gift of experience was the last blessing that Rose could bestow upon her beloved daughter.

Inside, she sighed as her body began to shut down. Blythe's body heaved from her silent sobs. The power ran through her veins like fire, and her markings felt like they were being forged into her skin.

The smile remained on Rose's face as she observed her daughter with clouded eyes.

"I finally get to be with your father. Don't cry for me darling. I love you."

Blythe fought for control of her body and managed to nod her head in response.

Both of their Will marks slowly began to fade away as Rose's eyes slid closed.

Blythe brushed away her mother's pure white hair as a few of her tears fell onto the dying woman's face.

Rose whispered her final words as Blythe kissed her forehead.

"Find... Sparrow."

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Woah, sorry if I depressed you.

Seriously though, what Hero doesn't start out with some kind of emotional trauma.

I promise it gets better from here. :)