Hi to all readers! This story starts out slow, but will speed up as it goes along.
Disclaimer: The Fable franchise, and all characters, locations, etc. belong to Lionshead Inc. and Microsoft. This story is written purely for fun, and I am not earning anything for it.
CHAPTER WARNINGS: NONE
Author's Note: The story will be told from various points - of - view. The character POV is indicated at the start of that character's narration.
CHAPTER 1
BEGINNINGS
Marion
The darkness in my life began the day my mother was crowned Queen. Her coronation was a culmination of a long, violent, and somewhat muddled tale that is better left alone in these pages. I didn't realise this at the time, and was just overjoyed that my beloved Mum finally got the recognition I always felt she deserved. 'As if I didn't get enough,' she would have scoffed if she'd read this, but there you go. We already owned Fairfax Castle, after all. Long before we became Albion's royal family, we ended up living at the castle through the autumns and winters, and returning to our beloved Serenity Farm in Oakfield in the warmer months.
In spite of my childish desire to be a princess, born completely from the romance and glamour of the idea rather than any material benefits it provided, I preferred Serenity Farm to the castle. My young mind didn't grasp how much my Mother's new title would change things. Strangely enough, Logan, (my brother and senior by four years,) who preferred the splendour of the castle to the other-worldy simplicity of the farm, was not nearly as excited as I was when he learned he was to become a prince. I suspect his less naive outlook told him that things were going to change forever.
The first few months were uncomfortable, if not actually unhappy. As long as I had my family, I wasn't miserable, but I missed Serenity Farm, and found that being confined to the castle grounds for fear of assassination was a bore. I couldn't truly understand what Mum told me, about the ruthlessness of evil men and the coin they're willing to pay to make their dark desires a reality, for I had known little fear in my life, (excepting a memorable occasion where I decided to be a hero like Mum, and ended up in a cage surrounded by hobbes.) However, I found a new lease on life when I met my best friend of years to come.
It was a warm, drowsy Sunday afternoon. Mum and Dad were in Bowerstone, and Logan was playing with his own friends for a change, leaving me at a loose end. I recall I was leaning on the balustrade bordering the royal gardens of the castle (which had appropriately been renamed Bowerstone Castle, having passed out of the Fairfax line). I was gazing out to sea; I have always adored the sea, like my mother, and was missing the proximity formerly enjoyed in Oakfield. My reverie was broken by a raucous youth some years my senior, Percy by name, who belonged to a noble couple, was new in town, and felt the urge to pester me whenever he got the opportunity. 'Hello, Your Highness,' he'd blustered, leaning on the balustrade to my right, 'You look lovely today, like a butterfly or a flower or a, eh, well, pretty thing.' Beefy and red – faced, with bushy ginger hair, he irritated me to my wits end.
'Percy,' I began, catching myself when I remembered I was now a princess. 'Thank you,' beginning again, 'but please don't talk to me now. I'm thinking.'
'What are you thinking about?' Percy asked, leaning in closer.
'None of your business,' testily.
A brief silence, before he parried: 'I like you, you know.'
I snorted. I wanted to say, in my youthful indignation, that of course he liked me. All the boys did, even though they called me 'scrawny' and 'ugly' behind my back: my Mum was rich, AND the Queen, AND I was a Princes and lived in a palace. Lots of boys (and men, I might add), especially the particular brand of snooty, work – shy noble Percy was, are always anxious to make good matches.I refrained, however, as I heard my Mother's voice in my head: 'You're a princess now, Marion. You have to behave even better than most nice people, because everyone's going to look up to you as an example.' So all I said to the lad was, 'Thank you, Percy, but I still want to be alone right now.'
'I think I'm in love with you,' he persisted.
'I'm not in love with you,' I retorted, adding 'sorry,' as what I hoped was a courteous afterthought.
'Prove it,' Percy demanded, leaning in far too close for my liking, 'Kiss me, and if you really don't like it, then I'll know you're not lying and I'll leave you alone.'
Well, I was never a child to put up with other people's impudence. I resisted, and Percy persisted, and as I was hardly in danger, the guards were not stirred to come to my aid. I did, however, whack the young wooer in the eye in my attempts to break free. He was persistent, however, and my younger self had decided I could forget decorum for once and tackle him properly when another boy hoisted Percy off me.
'Excuse me,' the newcomer said, to my juvenile astonishment, 'but you mustn't do that. You have insulted this maiden's honour.' His words sounded very romantic to me then, as I was an incorrigible tomboy unused to valiant gestures. Now, when I think of that pudgy, brown - eyed child saying such an archaic phrase, all I can do is smile. He didn't impress Percy, evidently; two seconds later and Percy had stalked away, and the young brunette who had come to the aid of my 'honour' had a split lip.
His name was Elliot, and I dabbed his wound with my handkerchief, before shoving him into the kitchen to get it doused in salt water, after which we feasted on cake and tea. From that day forward, we were firm friends. Whenever I was lonely of a weekend, he was there to play: we enacted everything from castle sieges to tea parties, and he was also happy just to stand and watch the sea with me. Although a noble, he was of that kind which is very much middle class in their manner, and was, I'm afraid, somewhat of a loner among other boys. In his teens, he outgrew his awkwardness, took up sparring and maksmanship, and volunteered for charities, besides which he achieved a high level of education. I also outgrew my ungainliness, and began to look more like my mother. As we grew up together, and Logan began to grow apart from me, Elliot became a surrogate brother, and was the perfect gentleman escort to royal events. In addition, in my teens, when I, like my brother, was permitted to leave the castle grounds – albeit in the company of either Mum, Dad, or a bodyguard – Elliot and I had wonderful times in Bowerstone Market, a place I have always loved for so many reasons. Fortunately, his well – bred manners inpressed my parents, or I have no doubt I would not have seen nearly so much of him.
Elliot helped me to ease into our new life when I was a child, and I remember him as being a great comfort when my father, Bob, died in his natural time. However, before we get to the obvious and inevitable conclusion that we ended up married, he had to survive, as much as I myself, the most horrendous chapters of my life. Indeed, I believe he was, in a measure, the reason I survived the first ordeal intact. The darkness had threatened since the coronation, (possibly, I think, beforehand,) but only descended on the night of my Mother's death.