And so our story begins! Hello all. It's been a while! This needed to come out otherwise I would have blown a gasket, though I'm aware of the other stories I've been meaning/needing to update. I swear those are coming soon. I've just been super busy.

Anyway, I hope ye enjoy. Updates will be soon.

DISCLAIMER: ALL does not own Fable II or its characters. Her little OC is strictly her own.

How she loved Bloodstone in the Spring. A pretty pale-haired girl sat perched on a post near the docks, a light brown cloak obscuring most of her features. She watched the citizens of this disorderly town go about their business. The stall vendors tried enticing passersby with their wares (though she wasn't sure what one would do with a flask of Hobb water); she had her brown gaze on a sapphire necklace the jewelry vendor kept tucked away for customers with a bit more gold than the normal shoppers that visited him. The Leper's Arms was bustling with drunken laughter and the crash of plates and pints as a bar fight ensued. Men stumbled out of the bar, their eyes swimming up to look where they were walking. The ladies (and men) of the evening sweet-talked a few of these fellows into staying the night.

But soon the girl was getting restless. She watched the people of this town every day, around the same time, just because she could. And every day, she would look over her shoulder at the cliffs overlooking the bay. Up there was where she wanted to be. Through the gates and into the old cemetery, past the tombstones and into the marsh. Everyone thought she was crazy for wandering around Wraithmarsh by herself, but she felt differently. She knew she had no secrets to hide, no dark thoughts, so the Banshees that infested the abandoned area had no effect on her and the Hollow Men were just skeletons as far as she was concerned. Her favorite part was when the Balverines showed up. They were a challenge, and she liked challenges. The girl squirmed on her perch. What was she waiting for?

"Why, Harley, wha' a pleasn't surprise."

A gruff voice caught the girl's attention as she hopped daintily from her perch. A man with a black eye patch and scars covering most of his face approached her. He stood at least six feet and five inches tall and wore a patched leather coat over a ripped tunic, black trousers fastened with many belts, and shiny black boots. His graying hair was unwashed and unkempt and long and his skin was grimy with dirt. She smiled at the man despite his intimidating appearance.

"Hello Daruis," she greeted. Her accent was thick but her articulation made her easy to understand.

"Goin' off ter th' marsh are we?" Daruis asked, removing a silver flask from his coat and taking a long pull.

"I am," Harley nodded. "How'd you know?"

"Blimey, ya go almos' evr'day! Don' know why, either," Daruis chuckled. "I'd say yer barkin' mad fer steppin' foot on tha' cursed land."

"It's not cursed," Harley retorted. "It's just... Misunderstood."

Daruis snorted, rolling his eyes and taking another pull from the flask. He stowed it back into his coat. "Either way, you best be takin' these. I don' wan' ya ter die out there, ya hear me?"

The large man handed her several bottles of potions. She counted three Children's Health Potions, one Placebo Health Potion, two Cure-All Health Potions, and one small Resurrection Vial. She took them in her arms, smiling up at him once again. "You don't have to do all of this for me, Daruis," she said. "I always come back."

"Yeah, well, I ain't riskin' nothin'. You come back in one piece an' I'll be happy," Daruis patted a large hand gently on her shoulder.

Harley put the potions into her brown leather satchel hidden away under her cloak. She waved goodbye to Daruis and bounded away towards the hill that would lead her to the entrance of the cemetery. People watched her go, whispering to each other behind their hands. She ignored them, her hands itching to grab her sword when she entered the marsh. Harley climbed up the hill, catching glances of the stormy waters of the sea below her before she came to the iron gates. A chill of anticipation traveled down her spine and she pushed them open with a loud squeak of rusted metal.

Nothing greeted her as she walked through the tombstones and into the center of Wraithmarsh. The swamp was silent, the fog seemed to be still. Not even a Banshee shrieked in the distance. Harley thought nothing of it and headed deeper into the marsh, towards the Drowned Farm. Nothing seemed too strange (except the absence of creatures, of course) but there seemed to be voices coming from one of the abandoned houses. Lost merchants perhaps? she thought. Harley strolled through the murky water casually and stuck her head into one of the homes. The voices were definitely coming from the second floor.

"... gives me the willies," they were saying.

"Nothin' we can do 'bout it, eh? We can't just go plunderin' into Bloodstone. We'll get our 'eads shot off!" another voice said.

"Let's just pray we can find this girl and get it over with," the first voice mumbled.

That's when Harley popped her head up the stairs. Two men lounged on the two beds in the corner of the upstairs. They were dressed standard, with white tunics under patchy coats and brown trousers and buckled boots. One was holding a piece of parchment, but she couldn't see the image on the other side. They noticed her and rose quickly to their feet, taking out their pistols and aiming the barrels at her face. She grinned at them.

"Hello," she said happily, ignoring their weapons. After all, she probably just startled them. "Are you looking for someone?"

The one with the parchment looked over at his companion, his jaw dropped slightly in amazement. He jerked his head towards her and pointed at the paper. The other's eyes grew wide and a knowing smile crept on his face. He turned to her, lowering his pistol.

"Yeah, we are," he said. "As a matter of fact, I think you're just the person to help us find 'em."

"Oh! Really?" Harley was delighted. She loved helping people. "Where do I sta-"

Something was thrown over her head and her vision was obscured. A sharp pain in her neck and she was paralyzed. She fell to the floor, still conscious but unable to move.

"You sure she's the one?"

There she was, hogtied and blinded, on the floor of an abandoned house in the center of Wraithmarsh. What was worse was her limbs refused to work, her voice caught in her throat. She was trapped. Daruis was going to kill her for this. She just focused on her breathing. At least she knew she wasn't dead.

"Yes, I'm sure! look at the poster. She's the spittin' image! I don't know about you, but I want some of that reward that Lord Lucien promised us for this one. Now c'mon. This place has to be crawling with Banshees."

"I haven't seen one since we got here."

Harley felt herself being picked up off the ground and thrown over someone's shoulder. She couldn't protest. Somehow her voice wasn't working. The man started to walk down the stairs, not caring about keeping the girl steady, when he stopped suddenly. Everything was silent for a moment when-

A shriek in the distance.

"What the hell was that?" one asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That," the other responded. "Would be a Banshee. We need to move."

The air suddenly went still and frigid. Harley could barely breathe. Whispers hissed around them and the wood of the old house creaked. She knew this feeling all too well. A Banshee had gotten inside. One of the men cursed and she heard the sound of a hammer being drawn back followed by the loud crack of gunfire. Someone shouted and Harley crashed back to the ground, her head cracking on the wood of the floor. Another shriek pierced the air. She wanted to cover her ears, but she couldn't. It was so loud. More gunshots, followed by even more shouting. Something dropped heavily to the floor. Footsteps scrambled to get out, down the stairs then out the door. The frigid cold slowly lifted. Harley could feel her limbs regain feeling. She laid there for a moment.

"Hello?"

The voice jolted Harley a bit. This voice was different. Someone new? But they sounded familiar... She managed to lift herself to her knees. The sack - or whatever they had placed over her head - still made it incredibly difficult to see. She was afraid whoever was out there would leave before she could make herself known. Her sword was nowhere on her person (Where had they thrown it?) She couldn't cut her bindings herself if she wanted to. Quickly, she struggled to her feet and leaned heavily against the wall right before the stairs. "H-hello!" her voice rasped a bit but she threw it out loud enough for whoever they were. Surely they would hear her?

I should mention POVs will change between Harley and our special someone (Reaver, obvs.)

Anywho! Please leave reviews! They inspire me so~