Phew! I've never written a story off a video game before, but I LOVE Fable, so I'm excited! I've got a ton of story twists planned…and a bunch of stuff kiiind of goes off the original Fable 3 story line…I want to keep it rather similar in some parts- ya know, time line and such. But every thing in between will be different. I think it will be enjoyable, whether or not you've played the game : D

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Chapter One

"No, you're doing it all wrong, all wrong, ya twerp!"

Lette felt her face squish together as her older brother, Logan, pushed her cheeks in, his eyes glimmering with annoyance.

"How will you ever fight a hobbe with that attitude?" he exclaimed, letting her go and spinning around, exasperated. He put his hands on his hips, turning back to her and shaking his head. "I don't know why dad pays so much more attention to you," His voice got quiet as he touched the small, dull blade at his side. "I'm much better at fighting…"

Shaking her head, or really, getting feeling back into her cheeks, Lette scowled at her older brother. He was only fifteen, seven years older than her, and yet already, he was preparing himself for the throne. Their father wasn't even about to give it up, not yet, even if he was just a little sick…and old…and alright, he might have been very sick, but that was nothing a Hero couldn't put up with.

Besides, though her mind could not find the words to explain it, she had seen her father giving Logan a peculiar look when the subject of the throne was brought up. It was a look that confused her, one that later she would realize was worry…concern…even fear. It was so different than the one her father gave to her. When she had tried to explain this to Walter, a recently retired soldier and now her father's advisor, he had laughed that jolly laugh of his and patted her head.

"Your father would speak to me if he was worried," Walter had said, "Do not think hard on it,"

Now, looking at her brother as he lectured her on proper stances and the correct ways to grip her sword, all she could think about was how much she wanted to put a rat beneath his pillow. Logan was, after all, terrified of the small creatures.

"I do fine at fighting," Lette spoke up instead, her lip sticking out in a small pout.

Logan scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. "You're eight years old, and a giiirl," he sneered.

"I am not!" Lette shrieked, her little hands twisting into fists.

Logan held his stomach as he laughed loudly. "You're not? You're not a girl? Is that what you just said?"

Lette felt her face glow red, and she stomped one of her tiny feet against the stone ground. "That's not what I meant!" Logan kept laughing at her, reaching out one arm to lean up against the wall, finding it hard to stand at that point.

"What's all this I hear?" came a loud voice, and Lette looked up towards the two, large open doors.

"Walter!" she exclaimed, rushing to him and grabbing onto one of his legs. "Walter, Walter, Walter!"

"What, what, what?" Walter laughed, which, having just been laughed at, Lette glared up at him. Then she outstretched her arm and pointed sharply at Logan, who was at this point, wiping his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

"Logan," she hissed his name out, sending her older brother a burning look. "Is being horrible to me. Again."

Walter looked between the siblings, knowing well of all their bickering and fighting- to him, it seemed typical. Siblings fought, did they not? This was no different, but he managed to control his expressions, not letting the urge to roll his eyes or smile slip through.

"Is that so?" He said, looking at Lette seriously. He looked over to Logan. "Is this true?"

Logan looked down, his lips pursed as his eyes shone with guilt. "I didn't…I wasn't…" He looked up, glaring at Lette. "I was only trying to help her learn to fight,"

Walter, some surprise in his eyes, glanced at Lette. The girl had never shown an interest in fighting before, though she was not one of those little girls who played with dolls or liked to sew. He constantly saw her running from maids, covered in mud and giggling as she touched her muddy hands to the wall, leaving thin trails everywhere she went. He had heard, although perhaps they were rumors, that the girl had once "adopted" several squirrels, keeping them in a drawer in her bedroom. The maid that had discovered THOSE had gotten quite a jolt.

"Lette, are you sure you want-"

Lette cut Walter off quickly, letting go of his leg, her hands curled into fists again. "Logan gets his own trainer and he trains all the time! I want to learn, too! I want to fight just as well! How will I ever fight hobbes?"

Walter chuckled, getting down on one knee so he could be close-to-level with the small girl. "I'll make you a deal, Lette, alright?"

Lette stared at him, then crossed her arms slowly, her expression curious- yet cautious.

"From now on, I will be your trainer- we can train once a week, or more if I have time. We'll get you right up to speed with Logan. What do you say to that?"

For a split second, Walter thought the girl was about to laugh and walk away, but a moment later, she struck out her hand, her brow furrowed. "Deal," she said roughly, and Walter shook her hand, smiling.

"Excellent!" He got back to his feet, looking over at Logan. "Now, Logan, if you would come with me for a little, your father would like to speak to you,"

Perhaps it was only something that siblings could pick up on, but Lette could have sworn she had seen her brother hesitate. However, it was gone so quickly that she wasn't sure. She watched with her brown eyes as Walter and Logan disappeared through the doors. She exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of boredom drift upon her shoulders quickly, as it always did so in childhood.

An idea picked at the back of her head suddenly and she smiled, heading out another pair of doors. Why she hadn't thought of this earlier, she didn't know. Passing by maids who scrubbed the floors, soldiers who gave her terse nods, and men wearing wigs that always confused her, she made her way to the back of the castle. Crawling up a flight of stairs, she smiled as she opened the large red door. In the middle of the regal looking bed, was an old man. His eyes were pulled tight with wrinkles- "smile lines" her mother had called them. His skin looked like paper, worn and read several times, and where his body had been strong, he was left looking like a scarecrow instead.

"Daddy!" Lette exclaimed, jumping onto the bed- softly, though. It was obvious even to her how frail her father had become.

Old age had finally caught up with the hero, the king. That and exhaustion and a sickness that no one could explain. Yet, even so, his eyes opened to look at his daughter and a smile graced his lips.

"Lette," he whispered, coughing so that he could speak louder for her. "I'm so happy to see you,"

Lette came over to him, hugging into his side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm happy to see you, too, Daddy,"

"What have you been up to, little one?"

Lette sat up a little, smiling at the man she admired. "Logan was teaching me how to fight," She squashed up her nose. "But he's a bad teacher, so now Walter is going to teach me,"

Her father coughed out a laugh, his eyes shining. "Walter, eh? I'm glad to hear that…he is a," he paused to cough again, making Lette wince, "..a good teacher, and fighter. Pay close attention,"

Lette nodded. "I will, daddy, I will. I'll be the best fighter in all of Albion! No! The world!"

Her father reached up a thin hand and touched Lette's cheek- his hand was freezing and trembling and it nearly ruined her spirits. "I have no doubt that you will be, little one," he whispered, then paused- and there was that look again. The one she could not explain. There was knowing in that look…curiosity…as if he was expecting something from her. "No doubt,"

Holding onto his hand, Lette curled back into his side. He was fading from her, she knew that, though she didn't know exactly what that meant.

"I love you, little one," He whispered, closing his eyes.

"I love you too, daddy," Lette whispered back. She stayed there for a while before leaving, but not before tucking the covers up to his chin and making sure that he was just sleeping, not something worse.

It all went by so quickly- Lette would have given anything for those months back. Her father, so frail and week, had taken his last breath. One of the maids had discovered that he had passed in the early morning. The funeral was held a week later. Funerals, Lette decided, were the worst thing ever. She never wanted to have another one.

Not only had her black dress itched, but even the sky had been sad. She didn't understand what was happening until the coffin was being lowered into the grave. She had called out then, trying to rush forward, but Walter had taken her shoulder, holding her back. She had cried against him, then.

And now…now just a day later, she stood on the balcony overlooking an open lot facing the city. Thousands of people were gathered below, cheering for the fact that they were not without a ruler. Shifting her weight, Lette looked to her left. Logan. He stood in the center of the balcony, wearing his most elegant garb- frankly, Lette thought the outfit made him look like he was drowning in fabric.

Jasper, who handled more things in the castle than Lette could comprehend, ushered the boy forward. To the roars of the crowd, Jasper lifted up a golden crown, one she had seen her father wear, and place it on Logan's head. The crowd went wild, cheering at the idea that their Hero's son would take his place- for surely the same purity ran through his veins. Surely he was a Hero as well.

Perhaps it was that sibling thing acting up again, but Lette could have sworn she saw Logan swallow hard. His fists clenched tight together. His jaw tightened and his eyes showing..no…it was…fear? There was no mistaking it, pure and simple fear- this coming from the boy so ready to be King? Perhaps…perhaps he really wasn't.

Lette took a step forward, reaching out her hand to take her brothers, an act of comfort, and abruptly he shook her away from him, the fear disappearing from his eyes as he held his chin up higher.

With a twinge of hurt, Lette stepped back. She watched Logan's face become expressionless, unemotional, as Jasper proclaimed him the new King of Albion and for just a moment, she understood exactly the look her father wore.

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So what do you guys think? It's starting off with their childhood (aka, this chapter) and now it will go into the future : ) Er, well, it will go to where the game takes place, lol. You get what I mean! Anyway, leave some reviews for me!