I randomly vomited this onto paper one night while playing Fable 3 and felt that I should publish it here. Please enjoy!
.
.
.
"Logan?" she called sweetly, perfectly masking the calloused soul residing within her scarred body.
A scurrying disturbed the silence and attracted Adelle's focus. She shrank into the cushioned chair nestled in the corner as excited needles pestered the skin along her arms and legs.
The man she sought crept past the doorway, head bowed and eyes on point. He slammed his palms flat against the map table occupying the room's core. "Avo. . . ." he growled. Suddenly he snatched a figurine off of Albion and thrust it across the stagnant air. The piece crashed at Adelle's feet, eliciting a subdued smirk to her relaxed face.
"Your temper always did amuse me," cooed the blonde adventurer in military garb as she crossed her legs and inspected the goblet from the table beside her.
The tormented king spun about a needle's tip and narrowed his startled gaze upon her. "Adelle," he pitifully exhaled.
"Yes, yes, it's me laid out upon one of your chairs in the most unlikely place of the day." Adelle replaced the goblet and erected herself upon her bare feet. "And now it's me standing upon your floor, still in the most unlikely place of the day." She snickered at her own foolishness.
"How dare you intrude upon my castle, upon my sanctuary!" snarled Logan, yet he failed to venture from his solid map table as if he were sewn to the very carpet.
Adelle strode to the table and, whilst trailing her fingertips along the rim, walked with antagonizing pauses between steps to Logan's side. He rotated his skull to target her playful green eyes. Once locked, he fired a baneful glare at her irises in a worthless attempt at intimidation.
"It's fairly entertaining that you dare to call a war room your sanctuary—a place of peace," she murmured, still forced to lift her chin to match his gaze despite her tall stature.
Momentarily ignoring her comment, Logan glanced down to her Adelle's bare feet. "I believe anything would be entertaining to a woman insane enough to parade about Albion lacking shoes."
Self-consciousness stitched itself to Adelle's formerly-confident demeanor, causing her to curl her filthy toes. "Insane or determined?" she snapped irritably, shoving away from the beautifully crafted map of her homeland. "Or do you even know the difference anymore?" whispered the blonde as she sauntered through the hall to the right and into the throne room.
Logan cautiously followed, head slightly cocked to the side in scrutiny of her every motion. Her appearance within the castle, within the quilt of securities he assembled piece by piece over the stressful years frightened, angered, allured him. Ire and desire sprouted out of his cells, threatening to wrest from him his plethora of well-tested self-control. This girl—this woman, he corrected himself, for she was definitely no longer the girl he had grown up alongside—irked yet intrigued the foul monarch.
How dare she distract him so!
Adelle pranced up the steps and twirled into the towering throne before crossing her legs and inhaling the emptiness of the cavernous space. "Seems rather worthless, doesn't it?" Her airy tone drifted throughout each crevice shielded by the aristocratic paintings and useless decorations adorning the would-be revered chamber.
Logan appeared slightly taken aback. "I am sure I don't know your meaning," he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.
The swordswoman leapt up from her perch and purposefully positioned herself adjacent to the golden chair. "My meaning for invading your fortress, your throne room, your mind? Without this monstrosity, what are you?" She delivered an experienced kick to the throne, sending it thundering to the floor. "Without it, you're nothing!" she cried out almost as if in pain.
A spark of understanding flickered behind Logan's steely eyes. Adelle's ultimate message continued to evade his sharp thought processes, though, so he opted to subdue her rampage immediately, before the guards stormed in. Their time was limited as of now.
"Adelle, pacify yourself," came his initial effort in restraining her unleashed fury. "Adelle!" he commanded as the woman averted her attention to him.
"Why can't you comprehend what I'm trying to say?" She gripped her forehead, seeming to mentally fight herself about revealing the truth or not.
She decided.
Adelle halted directly before the one man who possessed the revolting ability to haunt her dreams. She despised yet adored him—loathed his callous methods yet yearned for his protective embrace.
How dare he shred her battle-worn soul in such a manner!
"Speak plainly, Adelle, we don't have much time. Why are you here?" Logan demanded firmly. He hardly gained enough nerve to cup her chin in order to gain her troubled stare.
"As a warning," she whispered while grazing the absolute ends of her fingers across the back of the hand controlling her chin. "When your throne is gone, what will you be?" After a fretful pause, she added, "What will you have?"
Logan reluctantly released her, but an imaginary thread remained, forever connecting the pair in a future web of their fates.
"I have no home. I battle hollow men and hobbes and balverines and mercenaries without a second's consideration. I sleep wherever I can, even if it's on an empty street corner in Bowerstone Industrial." She inhaled a shaky breath. "But at least I have my best friend and the possibility of beginning anew."
He began to understand—clearly, rapidly, as was necessary for the dire situation.
"But I shall for eternity have you," he breathed. His hand moved to brush along her jaw line. He knew she had heard his accidental remark and due to this, chose to peel away his secure outer layer, exposing the resilient longing for her, which had existed since over a decade prior.
Adelle's muscles clenched involuntarily. "How are you so sure?"
Logan's patchwork of conflicting desires blended into a single pattern reflecting her: all of him was her. She penetrated the deepest, most fortified hems lacing the ill-fated ruler into his present façade, unraveling the guards he implemented around himself. Thus, he relented beneath the pressure of his emotions.
He softly touched his pale lips to hers.
"Because you have always had me. It only fits for me to have you as well," he elaborated once he removed his lips from Adelle's. "A concept deemed 'fairness,' correct?"
Breathless, Adelle choked, "But you've never been one for fairness."
"That only further proves my dedication to you, Adelle." He bowed to lightly kiss the marred skin of her hand.
Far-off calls made by manly voices rushed her response.
"I'm forever dedicated to you, all of me," she began, a stray tear cantering down her cheek, "and that's why I must take my leave."
She slipped away from this man whom all others condemned to prevent further betrayal of her closest friend—Logan's younger sister.
"You desert me yet I continue to love you," muttered Logan as he gazed at Adelle's retreating form. "Despite all your actions against me, I still love you. I failed in our teenage years to confess the sensations you induce in me, so I will repeat myself until satisfied!" he growled upon viewing the distressed expression Adelle cast over her right shoulder. "I love you, Adelle! And you will never escape that unwavering truth!"
As she trotted down the palace's front steps, past the unconscious guards, Logan's straw-haired adventurer, the patchwork of the qualities he loathed in all others, temporarily avoided his brash, reiterated confessions of undying love. She would only return with the revolution encrypted within her warning.
She prayed to Avo Logan would prepare for that day, even though she would always defend him with her Really Sharp Pair of Scissors.
.
.
.
I didn't change it much from what I wrote in my notebook, so I'm not sure about quality (or plot), so any comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks!
