Title: Mourned Innocence

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Fable: The Lost Chapters

Genre: Yaoi

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

Pairing(s): Hero x OC

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

Teaser: Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

Chapter One - Traders' Tents

Somewhere in Darkwood, just within the neutral territory of traders, a terrified young man struggled against the ropes that bound his wrists and legs, feeling them bite painfully into his skin. He was sitting very uncomfortably on the ground, his back leaning against a tree, and wishing for sleep to claim him that he might temporarily escape the nightmare of reality. His captors, nameless bandits, were all enjoying mugs of beer and ale at one of the traders' tables, laughing and talking quite boldly of what was planned for him.

He had been their captive for little more than a week. Stolen from his bed, his family slain before his eyes as their home was burned to the ground, he had abruptly become all alone in the world. The bandits had spared his life, and fed him just enough to keep him that way. They had tied him, gagged him, and taken him across the lands.

His captors had rested within the traders' camp for nearly two days, in no hurry now that they were so close to their destination. He had long given up hope that one of the traders might try to break his ropes when his captors were not looking. Traders were notorious for remaining uninvolved in anything that could endanger their profits or their lives. Their camp marked the center of Darkwood, just outside of Darkwood Lake and the forest beyond. A strategic location for good trade, for it was well known for much travel.

He lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps, half expecting to be teased with another scrap of food until he was left nearly begging for it like the last time. Instead, his dark green eyes widened in great surprise.

A white-haired Hero in his mid-twenties silently knelt at his side. He was not a giant of a man, as the songs had said of him, but was lean and gracefully muscled. His robes were cut of a thick, warm cloth - probably spelled for his protection - with a folded cloak which draped over his shoulders and could likely double as a hood when needed. Bright blue bands of metal dangled from the wrists of his gloves and the ankles of his boots. Upon his back was slung an intricately carved crossbow which some ancient books had dubbed Arken's.

No Hero but one carried such a mythical weapon.

"Hey!"

The young captive flinched, turning his head to find the small number of bandits leaving the camp area and crossing the barren but damp clearing. He pressed his back closer against the tree behind him, suddenly remembering his fear and not wanting it realized. The Hero at his side ignored the bandits for another moment, his bright blue eyes quietly burning into those of the frightened youth and projecting a feeling of calm before he stood and turned around.

The number of bandits, led by a masked assassin, all moved to surround the Hero, each drawing their own weapons. "I don't know who you're pretending to be, Hero," their leader spoke again. "But there's a bounty on that boy's head, and I'll not let your stupidity come between us and our reward."

Their captive paused, not believing his ears. Did they really not know that it was Paladin himself standing before them?

But the Hero said nothing, not even reaching for his crossbow as the bandits began closing in on him. Yet just as the ring of bandits drew within a few feet of him, the Hero threw both hands up toward the darkened skies. And then the bound youth stared as Paladin silently called upon a powerful white magic which etched a runic circle into the ground before strong pillars of light struck down those who would attack him.(1) In a handful of seconds only, every bandit and their assassin leader lay dead upon the ground.

Paladin turned and knelt again before the captive he had rescued. His bright blue eyes took in the many cuts and bruises littering the youth's body, a look of much sympathy passing over the Hero's softly chiseled face. He lifted his hands, hovering them over the captive's chest, and he closed his eyes. A soft blue glow poured from his gloved palms, gently blanketing the youth's entire body before harmlessly fading away and taking the hurtful evidence with it.(2)

The young captive took a slow, deep breath through his nostrils, finding that even his fractured ribs had been healed by the Hero's powerful Will. Paladin next drew a small knife, carefully cutting the ropes away before tucking the thing again within the leg of his soft leather boot. He then stood and backed away.

The other youth clambered to his feet, reaching behind his head to untie the gag from around his mouth. "Thank you," he gasped, tossing the thing aside. "I owe you my life."

The Hero shook his head, declining any supposed debt. He glanced toward the bandits he had slain, a contemplative look passing over his face as he stepped forth and gently set a hand to the other's shoulder. The freed captive stared, confused and mildly curious, as Paladin brought his other hand to his own chest and then slowly stretched his arm between them to rest his palm against the other's chest.

Warmth flushing his cheeks, the other shook his head. "I don't understand."

Bright blue eyes imploring, Paladin patiently made the gesture once more. Touch to his own chest, touch to the other's.

The captive's dark green eyes widened, as at last he realized something never sung about in all the songs about this Hero. "My name is Houle," he finally answered. "Houle Cheshire."

Paladin nodded, dropping his hand from the other's shoulder to motion toward the bodies of the bandits he had slain.

This time it was fairly simple to guess at the Hero's question. "They came to Oakvale one night, burning my home and slaughtering my family before they took me away. He," - here, he pointed to the assassin - "made a deal with the owner of the Darkwood Bordello. I was to be its new novelty."

The Hero shot him a swift glance of horrific disbelief. But for Houle, who would have had to suffer the ordeal, it was not so difficult to understand. Homosexuality was no longer so scarce throughout Albion; it would follow that someone as sinister as the Bordello's current owner would find a way to profit from it. Houle had overheard his captors speak of how long they had had to search to find someone so uncommon as to be near untouchable. And he, with his rare green eyes, dark coppery hair and caramel skin, was apparently an ideal pick.

Paladin stood quite still for several moments, a contemplative look again filling those eyes of his, until at last he turned to Houle once more. His hand motioned to the other youth, and then pointed toward the boundary of the Darkwood forest. Houle had to think for a second to understand this one. "You want to take me back to Oakvale?"

The legendary Hero nodded.

He bit at his lower lip, but then reluctantly shook his head. "I can't. When they took me, they destroyed everything I knew and cared for. I have nothing there to return to."

Paladin seemed to think about this for a moment. At last he swung his arm round to point toward the other half of Darkwood instead, which would give into the territory of the Greatwood forest.

Houle cocked his head in curiosity. "Is that where you're headed?"

Another nod.

"And you want me to come with you?"

Nod, again.

This gave the copper-haired youth pause. With no life to return to, and nowhere to go, very little choice was left to him. Paladin's offer, it seemed, was to let Houle join in his travels until they could find him somewhere to start anew. But a sudden thought invaded Houle's mind, and he had to voice it. "What about the Bordello?"

Paladin's questioning expression spoke volumes, now that Houle was becoming swiftly practiced in reading the Hero's silences. So Houle tried to explain, pointing again to his dead captors' assassin leader to show whom he meant. "He loved to talk of what their contract would have entailed for me. From the sound of it, the owner of that place is not very kindly toward the… women who work for him. I only came this close to experiencing his cruelty, myself. And those women… There must be a way to put a stop to him, to ruin him somehow."

There was a long moment of stillness between them. But then a small smile of gentle approval painted across the legendary Hero's finely-lipped mouth. Turning, he motioned for Houle to follow into the traders' camp. Houle was silently bade to sit at a table across from a gamer, eating a thick leg of meat that the Hero had bought for him, while Paladin himself bartered with a couple of traders. Houle would have thought it interesting to discover how one who did not speak would be able to accomplish this, but his empty stomach argued that it was far too hungry to wait any longer. So he devoted his full attention to his simple meal. He apparently made such a pitiful sight, that the gamer across from him bought him a mug of cider to wash it down, chuckling when Houle tried to swallow around a mouthful to thank him.

After he had done, Houle looked up to find that his rescuer had returned to the table. The white-haired Hero had placed a small bundle of new clothing upon the table near Houle's plate. Paladin pointed to the bundle, and then motioned to Houle, indicating that they had been purchased to replace the torn and tattered clothes the other youth still wore. Houle stared a moment, taken aback by the man's generosity. Slowly he pushed his plate away and pulled the bundle toward him. He glanced up to find the Hero awaiting his response, perhaps even thinking the gesture might be refused. Warmth flushed his throat and face, and he swallowed. "Where might I change into these?"

A smile brightened Paladin's face, and he led Houle to a tiny clearing behind one of the traders' tents.

1) Divine Fury.

2) Heal Life.