Author's note and disclaimer: This is my first Fable fan fiction. And I won't beat around the bush, here. It's probably not going to be very exciting action-wise. This story is meant for people who have played the game and know its story. (Mostly because I'm complete and utter crap at fight scenes. And most of them are so repetitive.) To be more specific, it is a re-telling of the game, but from the Hero's perspective (In this case the Prince, whom I have named Bo). There are breaks from first person to third person, with first-person breaks in bold. (And the occasional thought by Bo himself, in italics. So pay attention, as it might get a bit confusing.) Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and encouraged.
Prologue:
Every once in a while, someone will tell a bedtime story to their child, or their niece or their nephew, their sibling. This tale could be that of the valiant knight. Fearless, this knight, as he travelled abroad to vanquish the most powerful of foes while embarking on the most dangerous of quests. Saving the kingdom through his efforts. And he lived happily ever after.
Or maybe you heard the tale of the beautiful princess? She fled from her comfortable life at the castle to rally the broken kingdom against the great evil threatening to devour her country. Through her passion and leadership, the kingdom rises together. Along the way she meets a stable boy or a soldier or what-have-you, and they fall madly in love. They fall madly in love despite their peers doubts. Through no fault of their own. How could she have known she'd fall for his bravery? Or he, her beauty? Together they lead their newfound army of the most unlikely heroes and they vanquish the demons back to their respective places in Hell. Never before had the kingdom seen such benevolent ruling, afterwards. Only the most suiting forms of justice was brought upon criminals. And she, and her lover, lived happily. Ever. After.
I'm sorry to say, that none of this is our tale.
The majority of my life was spent in Bowerstone Castle, learning to read and write and play instruments and sit up straight or you'll be stuck like that for the rest of your life. And other skills, among that.
Never was I allowed to leave the castle. The farthest I've ever ventured is Bowerstone Market, but even then I was plagued by Elite Guards, staring daggers at every man, woman or child that dared even whisper my name. I heard what some of them said, about being my father's son. It was empowering, to be compared to the 'greatest Hero to ever live'. A woman approached me, one day in the summer, asking for an autograph. She made the mistake of putting her hand on my shoulder, earning her a swift blow to the knee, courtesy of the guards. After that day I never returned to the market, my new leash extending only to the castle gardens.
King Sparrow died when I was only eleven. That was... ten years ago, now? Feels like a lifetime. Logan took the crown afterwards, and since then we haven't spoken, the occasional "good morning", "good afternoon", or "good night" not withstanding.
Ah, but you're getting sick of this rambling, aren't you? I suppose we'll start at the beginning of my journey, then, shall we?