Hello and welcome to my first attempt at a fanfic, and, consequently, my first step back into the writing world since...high school, perhaps? *shivers* It's been a while.

I am not the only one to have fallen in love with Ben Finn during my Fable 3 days, I am sure. Upon finding out that *SPOILER* you cannot marry him in the game, I was absolutely sure that Lionhead did that to infuriate female (and male) gamers all around. There was no way they created this character (and had Simon Pegg voice him, that wonderful genius) without knowing that people would jump at the opportunity to fanfic the heck outta him.

Anyways, a few warnings about my writing: first of all, I am just a bit ADD when it comes to my stories. I get so excited about what is coming next that I tend to speed through what I am currently writing to get there. Not a good habit, IMO. So, you will find around 5 different "scenes" usually per chapter. Not unusual, but if you ever feel reading this that the scenes jump around a bit, that is the reason why. (I'm working on flow, I promise!)

Secondly, I am a very visual storyteller. This can be a blessing and a curse. I see a vision in my mind, and I try to transcribe it on paper. Some of the inner struggles of the characters may be lost in the translation, so I try to make up for it as much as I can.

Thirdly, I have found that three is a strong number, but I cannot figure out how to fill the third point. So there you have it.

Enjoy!

Chapter One

The Unwilling Hero

She could see his face. His beautiful green eyes, his strong, angular jaw, the way he just barely squinted at her when he smiled. She could smell his cologne, taste his lips, feel the contours of his body. She could recreate him from memory just by closing her eyes. He was all she needed.

"Mara."

She could remember how he used to whisper her name to her as he would wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his embrace. Just the sound of his deep voice rumbling into her ear sent electricity through her, tingling from the top of her head, down to the ends of each toe. His arms were strong, and it was there, wrapped tightly in them, that she felt the safest.

"Mara!"

She could hear the panic in his voice as he called out her name one last time. She watched in agony as the King's guards rushed around him, grabbing him and forcing his hands into irons as they struggled to push him out the door of the throne room, which had been thrown into chaos. She screamed and wrestled her way past the onslaught of protesters making their way toward the throne. She threw herself at the guards, kicking and shoving them out of her way, and threw herself around his neck.

"I love you," he said, trying to contain the fear in his voice.

She picked her head up and shoved her mouth onto his. He pushed back with a violent kiss before the guards wrenched him away, his face warped in terror.

"I love you!" He screamed at her, and she watched in horror as he disappeared from her sight. Spots of black began to encircle her vision, and she gasped desperately for breath. She felt her legs give way from under her as darkness took her.

"ELLIOT!"

Sir Walter Beck jolted from his sleep and reached for his sword instinctively when Mara's scream bellowed from the bed across the room. It took him a moment to gather his bearings before he realized that she was having another nightmare, and he sighed and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

It had been four months since that gruesome day, and the Princess dreamed about it at least every other night. She and Elliot had gone to the King to argue for the release of a group of civilians accused of leading a protest against the monarchy. King Logan, in an outrage, agreed to their release, but to the horror of everyone present, he ordered that Mara's fiance sacrifice his life in the protesters' stead. The poor girl had watched as the man she loved was dragged away, straight to his execution. There hadn't even been any time for her to argue his case with the King, her own brother, to plead for his pardon. The King who, Walter had always thought, looked upon Elliot as his own brother.

He looked across the room, dimly lit with the early morning sun, at the sleeping form of the princess. Aldous, her collie dog, paced frantically by her bed, whimpering as she tossed beneath her blankets. A faint blue light, almost undistinguishable from the morning glow, emanated from her skin as she slept in a nightmare, showing the intertwining will-lines that crawled down her arms, and up her neck. To any normal person, they looked like a normal tattoo, but Walter knew that they were the mark of a Hero, and the only living Hero since Mara's father died. She was a necessity to the survival of this kingdom, and it hurt Walter, who looked upon her very much as his own daughter.

It was the evening of Elliot's execution that Sir Walter had decided to sneak Princess Mara out of the castle for her own safety. The princess was, understandably, shocked to discover that she was a Hero, and accepted her father's Hero Sword without any discussion. However, with Elliot dead, she had no determination to do much of anything, but Walter knew how she pushed herself only because of her duty to her kingdom. She had been excelling in combat training, and had pinned Walter in practice every day for the past month. She had also become quite an amazing shot, and Walter was running out of things to teach her.

The old man sighed and rose to his feet, a loud, piercing crack sounding from his spine. He yawned quite audibly and waddled drowsily past the sleeping princess, who had thankfully calmed down since her outburst, with her faithful canine companion sitting by her side. The aroma of bacon burst into the room when he opened the door, and he floated down the stairs of the inn to the dining hall.

Mara stopped to take one last look at the village of Brightwall, standing tall upon the mountain against the sunrise. She had spent the last few months living at the inn with Sir Walter, mastering swordsmanship and marksmanship and any other possible "-ships" that could perhaps help her with starting a revolution against her brother, Logan. She had grown to love the little town, and the people of Brightwall had, in turn, grown to love her just as much. The admirable, hard working folk of the city continued about their comfortable daily lives in peace, far from the violence and tyranny in the capital Bowerstone. The quaint stone cottages, built snugly onto the mountainside, housed many families and children; the great Brightwall Academy towered over the town as if it was a mighty guardian against the Mistpeak Mountains.

The sentry guarding the city gates gave her a final salute as she looked back, and she sighed, resolving herself to follow Walter across the mighty Brightwall bridge to the other side of the great ravine, to whatever was to come next.

"Walter," she whined, "where are we going now? I rather liked Brightwall, and I don't expect that whatever you have in store for our next holiday is going to be at all comparable."

"Well, it's hardly a holiday, anyway," Sir Walter answered, stretching his thick arms over his head, "It should take us about a day or so to get to Mourningwood, where you will meet some people who could prove to be very important allies."

Mara let out a chuckle at the unfortunately named "Mourningwood."

"I heard that." Sir Walter called over his shoulder as they descended the mountain. "But don't let the name fool you. I only hope we get there before sundown. You'll find that after dark, Mourningwood is one of the most dangerous places in Albion."

Mara kicked a rock, and she watched as it rolled down the ravine into the river below. She could see a deer at the bottom of the gorge, sipping from the water as birds called out a morning tune. The mountains presented a mighty green path in front of her, and she breathed in the crisp spring breeze that Aldous also seemed to find very likable as he pranced ahead with his nose high in the air. She didn't concern herself too much with Walter's ominous warning about Mourningwood, for how could she possibly be troubled with such a beautiful landscape ahead of her?

Mourningwood smelled. It smelled rancid. Mara tried desperately to keep the stench of rotting trees and dirty swamp water from wafting into her nose, but to no avail. Mighty trees loomed over them as they pressed deeper into the foggy marsh, blocking any sunlight that Mara believed didn't even seem to exist at all in such a dreadfully dismal place.

"Walter, what on earth is that smell?" She coughed, prying her foot from the mud that was swallowing the little wooden bridge they were walking on. Walter laughed his deep, hearty laugh.

"That, my dear princess, is the stench of the death marshes." He made a grand gesture to the bog as it seemed to dig deeper and deeper in to the distance. "Rather inspiring, isn't it? Bet you're awake now."

"Despite myself," Mara muttered, glancing at the green and gray landscape that surrounded her, bestrewed with old headstones. "I never knew such a place existed in Albion."

"You're a long way from the castle now, Princess."

Mara sighed sadly at the thought of the castle; she desperately missed her own bed and the warm fireplace that she and Elliot would often fall asleep in front of. She missed the castle gardens where she played every day with Logan and Elliot when they were children. Walter noticed Mara's sudden gloomy attitude, and turned to her. "Do you remember when you were a child, and I would tell you stories about your father, the great Hero King of Albion?" Mara nodded. "Do you remember what you would say to me?"

Mara smiled nostalgically, looking up into Walter's eyes, the eyes of the man who had taken the responsibility for raising her as his own daughter when the king passed away. She felt like a child again as she remembered what she used to say every time he told her stories about her father. "Teach me how to be a Hero."
Walter smiled lovingly and tapped her on the nose. "That you did. You've come a long way since then, my dear. Now, let us get a move on. I really have no desire to be out here after sundown, which isn't far off now."

Mara couldn't see how Sir Walter even knew where the sun was in all this boggy mess, but she followed his lead without question, as she had her whole life.
After what seemed like hours wading through the swamp, with Aldous finding many scents to investigate along the way, Walter joyfully exclaimed as they rounded a patch of muddy trees. Before them stood an old, crumbling building, which Mara could only assume used to be a cathedral of some sort, and she recognized the bright red uniforms of Albion soldiers dotting the walls of stone that were partly overcome with vines and trees.

They approached, and a sharp voice called out to them from the ramparts. "Stop! Be you men, or be you hollow men?"
Mara looked up at the sentry who guarded the gate they were standing at, confused at the implication that they were "hollow men." Hollow men were things of fairy tails and stories meant to frighten children into behaving. She had concluded long ago that they were not, in fact, real.

"Are you daft, boy?" Walter bellowed. "Open the gate before I knock it down! And while you're at it, run and tell Major Swift that Sir Walter is here to see him!"

Voices from inside the gate began to chime as soon as Walter finished his fiery remark. "Open the gate! Sir Walter is here! Open the gate!"
Mara rested her hands on her hips as the heavy wooden gate was wearily lifted to let them through. What in the world did they need such fortifications for out in this godforsaken place?

Captain Benjamin Finn of the King's Army was taking a grand piss when the fort erupted into excitement.

"It's Sir Walter! Sir Walter is here!"

"Open the gates!"

"Stand at bloody attention, it's Sir Walter!"

Ben sighed as his much needed relief came to a conclusion just as Major Swift's voice called out to him from across the fort. "Where the bloody hell is Ben? Ben! Get your arse over here to greet Sir Walter!"

"Aye, sir, let me get my pants on!" He yelled back, buckling his trousers as he turned to march over to the guests. Towering above Major Swift, robust as a building, was Sir Walter Beck, sure enough. Ben saluted the famous knight. "Fancy seeing an old man like you all the way out here, Sir Walter."

"Ben Finn!" Walter laughed, shaking the entire fort like a foghorn. "It's been too long, boy! We've come to make a proposition I think you will be very fond of."

"You came all this way to 'proposition' us, Wally? And I thought you came to save us from the Legions of the Damned."

Sir Walter laughed again and swept Ben into a bear hug. It was while being squeezed to death by Walter that Ben noticed the old knight had not come to the fort alone. It never took Captain Finn more than an instant to recognize the tantalizing image of a female figure, and the one that accompanied Wally was a captivating specimen indeed. Long legs, milky white skin, dark brown hair that glinted bits of red in the minimal sunlight the fort allowed to shine upon her. He also noticed upon his examination an intricate set of designs imprinted on her neck that crawled up her jawline from beneath her collar. He wondered what the tattoo—and the pair of God given appendages—looked like underneath the tunic she wore.

"And who, may I ask, is this enchanting creature?" He asked, bowing to the lady.

"This," the lady answered sharply, "is off limits."

Ben straightened up in surprise, and he was met with a pair of piercing brown eyes. The woman smiled humorlessly. "You must be Captain Finn. Sir Walter warned me about you."

Walter and Swift giggled like schoolchildren behind them. "Ben," Walter finally said, "This is Mara. And that is Aldous." A black and white collie dog sat proudly at the side of the woman called Mara, and barked angrily at Ben until he backed away.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Ben muttered, slightly afraid to take his eyes off the beast.

"Ben is the best marksman in Albion!" Swift bragged to the woman, who seemed less than impressed. "Ben, why don't you show Miss Mara around the fort while Walter and I have a chat?" Ben sighed.

"I see, make me do all the bloody work around here." He gestured for the woman to walk ahead of him, and he took the opportunity to get a glorious view of her rather stunningly tight—

A large hand came down hard on Ben's shoulder. He looked up sheepishly at Sir Walter's towering figure, who was smiling down at him. "Try anything, boy, and I'll tear you limb from limb."

"Right, then," Ben said, trying to make himself as tall as possible as he stepped away from the giant beside him. "On we go."

He could still feel Walter's stinging glare bare into his back as he ascended the ramparts with the supposedly forbidden woman.

Mara was not unaware of the hungry stares the soldiers were giving her as she was shown around the fort by Captain Finn. She avoided looking at them as they stopped whatever they were doing to look at her, some even throwing out an "attaboy" at the captain, who seemed to find it rather amusing. She had no idea how these soldiers would become the "important allies" Walter told her they would be, but she pressed on and climbed the battlements with Aldous following closely.
She looked out over the depressing sight of Mourningwood from the ramparts, and a chill traveled down her spine as the sunset wrapped the marshes in an eery glow. "Why is there a fort out in the middle of such a place, anyway?" She asked the blond haired captain, unable to take her eyes off the bog.

"Hell if I know," he answered, leaning on the wall in front of them. "Rather gloomy place if you ask me, I'd even choose to be stationed in Bowerstone over this hell hole. There are at least women in Bowerstone."

Mara ignored the captain's quip, but the thought of Bowerstone brought back a certain painful memory she would rather not have recalled. She shook her head before she could let the memory overtake her.

"You'll have to excuse the men, by the way," the captain continued, "they haven't seen a woman in months. Especially an attractive one like yourself. Can't expect them to keep it to themselves, you know."

"Captain Finn," she said sharply, her eyes fixed on a strange blue glow deep in the trees. "I would appreciate it if you did not objectify me, to my face."

Ben laughed. "If you're trying to cause me to lose interest, my dear, you are failing quite miserably!"

Mara glared at the captain. She had never had to deal with such impropriety from a man before, and the fact that he was indeed rather handsome only made her angrier. He smiled with delight at her annoyance.

"Close your mouth, darling. You look like a trout."

Mara had not realized her mouth was open in awe, and she clamped it shut and turned her eyes back out to the marshes to mask her embarrassment. She recalled Elliot pulling her hair in the castle garden when they were children, and she assumed that this was the adult equivalent.

The thought of Elliot made her chest hurt, and she stared again at the blue glow in the distance to distract herself. She hadn't noticed before that it was moving, darting erratically around the trees. Then, there was another. And another.

"A will o' the wisp?" Mara mumbled to herself, and the captain shot up at the term.

"A what?" He asked, following Mara's gaze. The blue lights danced over the ground before digging themselves in the dirt and disappearing.

Before Mara could comprehend the light's disappearance, the ground shook beneath it and with a terrifying roar, a skeleton emerged from the spot, the light embedded in its chest. Mara stared in horror as she realized that the stories were true.

"HOLLOW MEN!" Ben screamed down at the fort as he unstrapped his rifle from his back. "They're early tonight." He took a shot and Mara watched in amazement as his bullet pierced the center of a hollow man's skull before he was completely emerged from the ground. This scoundrel was known as the Army's greatest sharpshooter, and Mara believed it.

The soldiers below erupted into chaos as they scrambled to grab their weapons and position themselves at the ramparts. Mortars groaned as they were turned toward the marshes where more and more skeletons were digging themselves from their graves.
Mara unstrapped her rifle and joined in the mighty chorus of gunshots as night fell over the fort.