Photograph
A long time ago, a hero was born.
She lost her parents when she was but three years old and barely could hold herself on her own two feet. She grew-up with her sister, Rose, strolling behind her on her little adventures. Then she lost Rose, and met Theresa.
The blind woman raised her, and took her to a safer place –a gypsy market over the Merchant's path– in which she grew until Theresa believed she was ready to face her destiny, telling her of her potential, and the blood that ran through her veins.
She had a great destiny, or so she was told. Theresa guided her to become a great heroin. And so she became.
She searched for allies all over Albion and grew as a hero as she searched for the man that took her sister's life. She faced many sacrifices, took too many risk and took many decisions she regretted when she thought back on them.
Sacrifices were made, and she choose to bring the townsfolk back in Lucien's downfall.
Distant with the people after her decision, she expected everything but to fall in love when she settled down in Bowerstone. She had a good husband, adorable children and the townsfolk loved her. Life couldn't be better for the Hero.
And then she was chosen as the Queen.
Ruling with generosity and fairness, Albion prospered. And when the Queen and her husband were long gone, her successor took her place in his young years.
Years after that a Revolution rose. Her youngest children, the Princess became the leader of that movement.
She learned of her fate, grew as a hero and ventured from the top of freezing mountains to sand dunes in search for allies. And then she overcame whom she thought was the final problem: her brother, Logan. But the man told her of the danger coming from Aurora, and she had no other choice.
With the tittle of Queen on her shoulders and the threat of The Crawler on the back of her mind, she tried to be as fair and just as she could. Kept as many promises as she could allow herself to keep and gave away the money she had for the treasury.
Still, that wasn't enough.
When her army, and her allies over-whelmed the Crawler, she lost dear friends and most of her people.
Exploring the kingdom was a difficult–if painful–task for the Queen and former King, both who had high hopes for Albion, and it's survival.
Guiding themselves through ruins, they knew The Crawler had damaged Albion's heart and soul. The fields weren't what they used to be, there wasn't a sense of calm on the roads and the creatures were afraid of the wind moving shadows. Bringing Albion to it's former glory would take years, if not several generations. It seemed pointless.
Normally, they wouldn't be permitted to give themselves the liberty to run all over the place in search for survivors, but simple rules as those could be broken for the sake of the people.
The explored the gloomy streets, hoping to find life. But, exploring was tiring, and the fact they hadn't found anyone weighted on their shoulders. Maybe they could explore a little more, a few minutes, maybe an hour and they'd go back to the Castle.
Bowerstone was a big town. Full of houses and stores, they didn't know where to start.
With his heart on his throat, Logan approached a small cottage on the middle of the town, and the Queen followed him.
He knew the layout of the house like the back of his hand and remembered where the plaque with the landlord's name –his mother's– used to be.
He walked over the shambles, and helped his sister up the path he remembered the stairs to be. Broken windows and furniture smashed on the floor, he watched as the backdoor fell off the hinges. Even if he had wanted, he wouldn't have been able to go to the second floor.
The Queen looked around, something was off, ticking at her memories. Nostalgia hit them, and she groaned in frustration with the familiarity. They moved furniture and shambles around, the Queen lifted blocks of oak and threw them out as Logan ran his fingers over the books on the bookshelf that laid on the floor.
He remembered this one specially. The Tattered Spire.
Their mother used to read that until she fell asleep at the table, usually with a piece of half-eaten pie on her side. If memory served right, searching the book over would be worth it.
The Queen watched him fiddling with the book, heard him mumble "page 23, I believe" and watched as he carefully turned the pages over.
-You know we don't actually have the need to steal books, right?
He stopped turning the pages around and stared indignantly at the Queen.
-I'll take advice from someone that wasn't looking over Albion for rare books - she laughed, he wasn't wrong -. Goodness gracious.
He stood up with a small triumphant noise he'd deny to everyone if Susan ever said anything and approached her with a piece of paper on his hands. Or, at least that's what it looked like to her.
-This - he gestured to the paper -, was what I was looking for, my Queen.
-And, that is...? - she sighed at the formality. He was frustrating sometimes, and she was already tired.
He showed her the paper–a photograph–and she snatched in out of his hands. She knew those faces.
Tall, regal, and as heroic as she remembered her, Sparrow looked as if she was actually staring back, willing to tell her the stories of her adventures as she carried her over her shoulders. Beside her stood their kind father Nathan, who always reminded them their mother was off on one of her trips and that she'd be back. Under their mother's arm, stood a proud little boy–Logan–, and hugging him, she saw herself with puffy cheeks and big, surprised eyes. Beside then all, holding onto her father's arm, there was Rose.
She had forgotten about Rose. Beautiful, daring, stubborn and unable to keep her mouth shut, their sister looked happier than everyone else on the picture.
Those very things she vaguely remembers she was envious of, were the very things that guided her to her fate.
She had parted one night, old enough that people wouldn't ask a thing, and mad at their mother. The wrath she felt on her chest kept her reasoning low and she took her last risk.
-She left when I was five - Logan nodded -, we never saw her again.
-You loved her.
-I remember - she frowned.
With simplicity he hadn't seen in her for years, she sat down on the floor, dust particles rising in the air and falling over her gown and hair. Oh, Jasper would be thrilled.
She ran her gloved fingers over the picture, and to their surprise, threw it to the floor.
-What's wrong?- Logan asked, doubling over to take the picture.
-It's... odd- she watched him as he knelt down beside her -. All those things... we were satisfied with life, and I barely remember a thing.
He stared at her, and sighed as he gave her back the picture. He ran his hands through his hair and breathed deeply.
-Life wasn't really different then. Mother went out, left us for a couple of weeks; dad would take care of you, Rose would look after me, making sure the merchants wouldn't try to kill me (it's funny, really) - he laughed -. Every once in a while mom would take longer than she had expected to return, and dad would encourage us "Your mother is strong" - he mimicked - "she'll come back in no time–have I ever told you of the time she battled a troll with her bare hands?"
The Queen laughed at his brother, and held the picture fearing it might break apart.
-And now, there's only the two of us. We only have each other.
Her laugh broke into silence, and Logan stared at the photograph between her hands. The color had faded at the corners.
She was right, they only had each other. That was the only truth.
The Queen had her people, townsfolk who would follow her blindly, if needed. But that trust felt hypocritical due to the fact she had to keep a lot of things to herself. And for Logan, the pitied formed ruler that was never truly forgiven by the people, for him looked worse in her eyes. Whatever he had done, and whatever she was capable of doing, they did it for Albion. Thinking about it, there was no other that could understand the as they could.
The title of Ruler had weighted on their shoulders before time, and maybe, just maybe if Queen Sparrow was alive it would have gone on a different path. But the woman was old, and the years had taken her for granted when Logan had to take the throne.
They knew better than anyone that there were difficult choices to make for Albion. They had to recognize what would bring a benefit, and nothing else.
The Queen stood up, dusted off her gown and held her hand out for her brother to take.
-I don't think mother would be angry if you took the picture with you -, he said as he took her hand.
-Oh, Jasper would love to see this!
-Yes, he would... probably.
They walked out their former home, noticing it was later than they had thought. The town around them looked grey, and torn apart.
Repairing Albion–bring it to it's former glory–would take time. But it was possible.
They walked away, arm in arm, staring at the path they would follow.
-What happened to Rose, exactly? And what was that about the merchants trying to kill you?
-Well, they are long stories, and not nice ones.
-We have time.
-Well -he sighed-, a few years ago…
Oh, that'd be a long trip back home.
Fin
I don't own Fable and I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Cheers.
Sincerely Yours:
C. C. Cr0ss
[Edit:15/05/2015]
