Disclaimer:
I do not own Fable or any of the characters that are depicted in the game series, copyright goes to Lionhead Studios. Copyright of the story goes to me though.

Author's Note: This chapter is mostly centered around Rayla, we having last left Reaver off still somewhere at sea. This chapter really is the emotional make or break chapter. I've gone through similar personally, so this chapter meant a lot to me to write.

Inspirational Songs: Within Temptation - Iron & Within Temptation - Lost

Give the songs a listen while reading this, they're quite bound with the emotional parts of this chapter.

Warning: Violence, Language, and Character Death.

CHAPTER TEN:

WAR'S LOSS

Rayla glared out at the city through her bedroom windows. Everything had come down to this. Tomorrow the Crawler would try and invade her kingdom.

Her people would be as safe as she could hope to provide them. Through her actions and Reaver's advice she had raised enough money to ensure their protection to the best of her kingdom's abilities.

'Reaver...,' she wondered, 'Where are you? What are you doing?'

She had found a letter addressed to her and once she had begun to read it, she could only stare in frustration and a sense of betrayal at the elegant, swooping black letters, perfectly penned in his handwriting.

He had left her. That had been nearly two weeks ago. Yet, she could not dwell on it now.

Her nightmares had abruptly stopped some nights ago when she had finally decided that nothing was going to stop her from sending that thing right back into the very bowels of the Void.

The war was coming and she wanted it, she wanted tomorrow to just commence already. Left alone in the darkness, she couldn't deny it any longer. She couldn't live without the fire of battle, it was the heat of it that made her strong. She was born to live and fight, she was a Hero inside and it was all that she ever really knew. Her mother had been a Hero and Walter had taught her to be one too. It was in her blood and it was time to embrace it. She had to be strong. She had to be battle-ready.

She was on her own though, Reaver was gone... but that was all she needed to fire away. It made her fearless—she had nothing to lose anymore after all. Perhaps their affair had only been a dream that would have gotten in the way. Perhaps his abandonment of her was all she needed to drive her to fight.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow the war would begin and she would see it through to the very end. There was no way that she would just walk away from it anymore.

Screams and war cries penetrated their ears. Hisses and the clash of metal against metal permeated the air around them. Everywhere soldiers were fighting dark shadows, and here and there a peasant fled from the battle.

Bowerstone Market had become a battlefield of sand and blood and shadow.

The creatures borne from the shadows were grotesque and misshapen things—limbs like those of skeletons were dripping with a tar-like substance and darkness was swirling tangibly around them as they hissed and their eyes like red coals gleamed at the humans.

"For Albion! Kill them all!" Rayla shouted, her sword raised above her head before lashing towards the shadows as she and her entourage of guards fell upon the minions of Darkness.

Around her men were running around, clutching wounds, attacking the shadows, or fleeing from the battle, screaming.

"Do not listen to their lies! Fight them! Destroy them!" Rayla barked, ripping her sword free from the mechanical corpse of a minion with a grunt.

"You've done such cruel, terrible things... They will rejoice when you are finally dead!" a voice taunted.

The Crawler had arrived, yet she couldn't see it, but she knew that it could see her.

"Oh go fuck yourself," Rayla mumbled, her sword slicing through four of the shadows with a perfectly spun arc of her blade.

Walter and Ben were keeping their pace behind her, slashing through the amassing hordes of shadows that tried to pick them apart.

Every now and then, when she drew enough of her Willpower into her attacks, a pair of ethereal black wings would shimmer at her back, crisscrossed with crimson Will lines. At first, Walter and Ben had almost dropped their guard to appraise them in their astonishment, but they were quick to remedy that mistake as the hordes descended upon them.

"We will cover this kingdom in Darkness! Where once this was the Kingdom of Light, it shall now be the Kingdom of Unlight!" the voice roared at them.

"Again, go fuck yourself!" Rayla shouted, her sword slicing cleanly through one of the dark minions—gears and bolts clanging loudly onto the cobblestones—and using her other hand to flip off the disembodied voice.

More and more of the dark minions were swarming towards them now, her guards were falling under their attacks.

"I will send you back into the Void, screaming!" Rayla roared as she ducked the whirring blades of a minion, spinning dangerously above her head, before her sword cut upwards, ripping it in two.

"The Dark Guardian, he comes... The Guardian will protect the children, he will tear you asunder!" the screeching voiced roared back at her.

"And fuck your Guardian too!" Rayla shouted, running at the wall by the bridge and vaulting into a jump right onto the metal colossus. Her sword clashed loudly against the metal of its head as she tried to hack it off. "Watch out!" she screamed at Ben as the metal behemoth launched an attack.

Ben and Walter ducked out of the way of the broiling pool of blackness and the crows that spawned from it. Around them the other soldiers were not so lucky—fighting and dying as pools of blood drowned the streets crimson in color. Her soldiers were losing limb and life before her very eyes.

"I will kill you, I will fucking kill you all!" the queen snarled, her sword cutting through the metal colossus' neck, bits of iron and gears crashing down onto the cobblestones.

Her boots hit the ground with a sharp clip as the monstrosity crumbled beneath her, but as soon as her feet hit the ground she was off again in a blaze of crimson will, gunshots and flashing steel. Shadows separated before her furious form like water parting fire.

They were nearing the gate to Industrial now and it was becoming eerily quiet, the shadows dissipated and no dark minions were in sight—even the blasted voice had finally shut up.

"I don't like this..."

Next to her, Walter was thoughtfully scratching at his beard, his sword still in his hand and ready for battle. Rayla gave a light shrug and pressed onward with him at her side.

"Watch out!"

A barrier locked in place behind them, effectively trapping them on all sides.

"I can't get through!" Ben shouted, but Rayla paid it little mind as her eyes widened with horror at the scene before her. The Crawler immersed itself inside Walter before she could stop it.

"Walter!"

Walter turned to face her, his eyes and mouth blackened as if he had been drinking tar. His veins blackening underneath his skin as if poison was running through them. He looked wild and delirious, infected by the Darkness trapped inside him.

"Argh, the children, I can't see the children!" he roared ferociously as he cut a swing at her.

Rayla ducked out of the way of the blade, rolling to the side and jumping back onto her feet. "Walter, stop it!"

"Walter isn't here anymore, little girl," he growled at her, his eyes dangerously sweeping over her form, trying to find a fault in her defense.

Shadows were swimming in the air and taking shape, their red eyes menacing and their claws sharp.

"Then I have nothing to lose," she snarled angrily, gripping her pistol in her free hand and firing off shots at the shadows, her sword blocking those closest to her before slicing them apart. She hacked at Walter, but his sword blocked her blows and forced her into a retreat more than once. Her cheek stung from a cut he had dealt her and blood was running freely down her arm were it was marred by a deep gash.

"No, let me go! Let me go!" Walter shouted suddenly, hands clawing at his head for a second, before those darkened eyes narrowed on her form once more and a malevolent smile spread across his face.

Rayla watched in shock for a moment longer, barely ducking out of the way of the shadows that fell upon her. Sharp claws dug into the flesh of her leg, ripping open the muscles beneath and tearing a scream and the breath from her lungs. Blood was readily seeping down her leg and she had all of a moment to gulp a health potion and dodge the next attack.

Her sword clanged loudly as it crashed against Walter's broadsword—an eerie song filling the air as the blades scraped against one another—vying for dominance.

"Kill it!" Walter screamed, dropping his guard.

"Die and go back to the Void from whence you came, you fucking piece of filth!" Rayla roared, her sword breaking loose and striking through Walter's chest with a sickening crunch of metal and bone, followed by a gush of red blood and a furious, gurgled scream.

The remaining shadows dissipated immediately, the darkened sky above their heads coming apart and inklings of sunlight filtering through.

Walter's form crumbled to the ground and Rayla rushed over to him. "I'm sorry," she whined quietly, her voice breaking as she curled her arms around Walter, resting him against her body.

"You took away the Darkness, it's been inside me all this time, but it's light now. I can see the sky and its light," Walter ground out. "I don't think I can fight anymore..."

Rayla shook her head sadly. "It's all over, Walter. We won. We beat it and we did it together."

Walter gave a weak smile. "Do you remember the stories I told you as a child? There was a great queen once, the mightiest Hero of them all. Do you remember what you always said then?"

Rayla smiled lightly, a sniffle escaping her. "Teach me to fight and be a Hero like Mother..."

"You done me proud, child, you've always done me proud," Walter rasped, a wracking cough coursing through his body. "Your mother and father would've been so proud to see you too, especially that fierce mother of yours. You had always been everything she had wanted you to be, and even more now. I think she had always known what you would become." His eyes were beginning to flutter closed.

"Walter... Walter... WALTER! No, don't... don't leave me... please, I can't lose another person," Rayla pleaded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"You mean that egotistical fop?" Walter asked, coughing up a bit of blood and looking up at her from underneath heavy eyelids. "Ah, balls..."

"How...?" Rayla trailed off, her eyes widening.

Walter coughed louder, more blood pooling at the corners of his mouth. "Balls to you too then. Did you think I wouldn't notice? I'm not brainless, child. Do whatever it is that makes you happy, but be cautious around that man...," a frown crossed his face momentarily, "Hah, what am I saying? You just saved the bloody kingdom, you can handle anything."

Tears were flowing freely down Rayla's face now. "But I couldn't save you, Walter..."

"I don't need saving, child. It was enough to watch you grow up as a Hero and fight by your side. I'll say hello to that mother of yours for you," he gurgled in reply, a weak smile curling at his bloodstained mouth as his breathing started to slow.

"Oh, Walter," Rayla gasped, her fingers gently stroking the side of his face. "...Thank you..."

"It was... my... hono...," the words trailed off quietly, the light going dim in his eyes and his breathing slowing to a stop.

Rayla stared down at the unmoving man held in her arms. Walter didn't move, didn't speak, not even a muscle twitched anymore. "...Walter...?"

Her vision was blurring, her eyes stung while more tears poured out and her heart felt like it was trying to claw itself out as the searing pain of loss permeated her very core.

Ben and Logan watched quietly, trying not to quiver with shock as the queen's scream of agony rent the air.

Rayla stood quietly. A silent vigil, alone in the room, her hands lain upon the hilt of her sword as its tip rested on the polished marble floor. She had wondered a few times if that was the only thing still keeping her body upright.

Both Logan and Ben had tried to persuade her from it, but she had insisted on standing at vigil for Walter. Tomorrow he would be buried, but until then she would remain beside him.

The coffin was lavish, he would have berated her over it, yet she had to show some last amount of appreciation for all the things her old mentor had ever meant to her. She had had the most skilled carpenters she could find carve it for her from rich ebony wood, inlay its decorations with golden filigree, and line the interior in silver velvet.

Beside her, Walter's body was still and sickeningly pale. His body had been cleansed and he had been dressed in fine red and gold clothing with a pair of polished black boots. His hands folded about the hilt of the sword that lay upon his chest in black leather gloves cuffed by dark leather bracers inlaid with gold. Walter may not have been a noble, but he had been the most noble soul she had ever known and he deserved every honor that could be given him.

She had ordered a stone mason to carve a statue of him as well. It was to stand an eternal vigil somewhere in the castle gardens, overlooking Bowerstone.

'He would have liked that,' she thought idly, her heart giving a sharp lurch, but she could no longer cry. Her eyes were dry. Every drop of fluid that could come from behind them had already been shed hours before as she stood the start of her vigil, staring at that pale, unmoving face—hoping, praying, begging that he would merely open his eyes and tell her 'balls' to whatever she thought could get rid of him. As the hours moved along, her flow of tears had ebbed, her throat turned hoarse, and her screams ran silent.

She remained standing, quietly adjusting her stance a little. It had been hours upon hours, but even the dull ache in her legs from standing so long had begun to fade. Everything was starting to fade away, even the glimmering light of the multitudes of candles looked as if they were to fade at any moment.

A door opened softly, but she didn't turn away from her charge. She would not leave his side, not until they took him from her.

"Sister...," a voice murmured softly.

Logan gently touched his sister's shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him. She looked pale in contrast to the pitch-black pants and shirt she wore. She had gone against his wishes and had stood a vigil by Walter's body for the entire duration of a night, a day, and night again—denying both food and sleep. He hated to see what it was doing to her, but he couldn't refuse her. She had already shown her anger when she had shot one of the carpenters who hadn't done what she had wanted for the coffin.

She was going to ruin, slowly, but he could do nothing about it. Each time he tried to pull her away or approach a different subject, she had cut him off, distancing herself from him completely.

"Sister, you have to stop this. You've been there too long. You need to eat and rest," he said, trying to pull her into his embrace. It wasn't unlike hugging a statue carved from stone and he sighed dramatically. "You haven't yet recovered from the battle, surely my suggestions aren't irrational."

She said nothing as he pulled her against his body.

"I... I have something I need to speak to you about, little sister," Logan said, idly brushing a strand of her hair from her face.

Still she gave no answer in reply, merely looking up at him as he held her.

"You've done what I had thought impossible, little sister. You are the ruler that I could never be. You don't need me anymore and Albion will heal easier without me... I... I was thinking of travelling away from here," he whispered.

Apparently that got through to her. The look his sister gave him in reply was so forlorn, so broken and despaired that his heart lurched painfully against his ribs. "Oh, sister," he murmured, pulling her tighter into his embrace.

Her walls came crashing down then and brought with it a flood of tears she had previously thought her body had already been relieved of.

Logan held his sister close as she shook with sorrow against his chest, he could already feel the damp of her tears soaking through his shirt as he had relinquished his breastplate earlier the evening on behalf of something more comfortable.

"You're all I have left, brother... I have no one else anymore. Father has gone, Mother has gone, and now... now even Walter has left us. We are alone now, brother. I cannot bear to have you leave me too," Rayla sobbed against his chest, her hands clutching at the back of his shirt hard enough that she feared it would rip.

Logan's fingers gently brushed at her hair as he tried to comfort her. "But we have each other, sister. You will have me as long as you want me," he hummed softly, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Please do not leave me, Logan," she whined barely audible against the material of his shirt.

"Hush, dearest sister. I will not leave your side if that is your wish," he whispered soothingly to her. "Now, how about getting some rest?"

"I can't leave him, brother. I have to stand at vigil... please let me go," she whimpered quietly, struggling weakly against his chest.

"No. Come, little sister," he said, lifting her up into his arms. "Let's get you to a bed. No, do not argue with me. I will stand vigil until the morrow, in your stead."

Hero or not, his sister was still as light as a feather, her limbs long and slender. Looking at her now, it was hard to believe she had been the one to pull through and save the whole of Albion. "Ben!" he called loudly.

The doors pushed open and Ben walked in, still looking rather worse for wear himself. "You called?"

"Stand vigil until I return. I'm taking my sister to her chambers," Logan replied.

Ben nodded and took over the post his sister had occupied, looking a little off as he held the greatsword in front of him. He plainly refused to look at the occupant inside the coffin, instead training his gaze on the opposite wall.

Logan left the room, carrying his sister in his arms as she laid her head against his shoulder. She was docile now, her energy depleted. He wound their way through the hallways and past corridors until he reached her royal chambers—his own were much deeper into the castle, but his sister had preferred a view of the gardens. Even her chambers as a princess had had a view of some of the gardens. She loved the gardens. She had loved them ever since she had been a little girl. How many times had he watched her in the gardens as she listened to the stories being told to her? Even their mother had loved being out in the gardens. It was only he who preferred to skulk about indoors, though that had only happened once he had started to grow up.

The guards on duty at their post outside the queen's chambers quickly opened the doors for him and allowed him to enter unhindered. He may not be a king anymore, but the guards still feared him and remained loyal to both his sister and himself.

He walked over to the bed and gently laid her down on it. She was already deeply asleep—truly and utterly spent. Brushing a few of her disarrayed auburn locks from her face, he leant down and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Rest easy, little sister."

Pulling up a blanket over her still form, he turned on his heel to leave the room. He had quite a few things he would like to tell his old advisor as he stood vigil in his sister's stead.

Rayla stood in silence, the wind was whipping gently at her cloak and dress. The pelt of white wolf's fur around her shoulders gave her no manner of warmth, her very core felt frozen. She was clad in black from neck to toes—a sign of her mourning. Her dress was of the blackest velvet, her boots were black leather inlaid with gold, her arms and fingers were covered in long black gloves hidden beneath the swooping sleeves that brushed the grass at her feet. The wind was biting, and winter was coming.

The priest of Avo was speaking some manner of funeral ritual, but she paid the words no mind. Everything was just breezing past her. Her emotions were in turmoil. Her kingdom was safe, with minimal casualties, but the casualties that had been suffered, were terrible.

The people were praising her name in the streets and sending her gifts daily, but no gift would fill the void that had been left inside her.

High above her towered the statue that she had commissioned. The likeness was ideal, she had promised death to the stone carvers if the statue turned out imperfect and her threat had seemed to work marvelously. The stone Walter stood with one foot on a cask of ale, one hand resting on that leg and the other resting his broadsword over his shoulder as he looked towards the sky—the sky and its light. At the statue's base a bronze plaque read: "Father-figure, Warrior, Mentor, and Friend."

It had been a long time since she had last attended a funeral. The last ones had been for her parents—her mother when she was still a little girl and her father some years later.

A strong, but gentle arm wrapped around her shoulders and she turned to see her brother. Logan, bedecked in black and gold, looked more solemn than ever, but gave her a small, reassuring smile.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the priest murmured. "May Avo judge you justly and accept you with open arms..."

As the ceremony came to an end, Rayla quietly dropped the white rose that she had held onto the flag bearing the sigil of Albion that was covering the coffin. The coffin would be moved and the body interred into the crypt below the castle and she did not wish to stay and witness it.

She turned on her heel, her cloak flying with the motion and stormed up the steps. The echoes of her footfalls rang through the quiet of the castle, but she ignored them as she ran. Behind her a second set of footfalls could be heard, clattering loudly against the floor in contrast to the fading gunshots from outside.

"Sister," Logan made to grab her arm, but she nimbly ducked out of his way.

"Let me be," were the last words before she vanished into her chambers, the door banging shut.

Rayla sat quietly in the darkness of her room. The curtains were drawn and nobody was permitted to disturb her—not for lack of trying though. The last time Logan had tried, she had persuaded him to leave and let her be—at gunpoint.

It had been three days already. Three days after Walter's funeral.

She had no idea how she looked, at least one of the three mirrors in her room was still in one piece—the other two had each had an encounter with some object or another—but she couldn't be bothered to get up off from the floor.

Her hopes were set on fire and her dreams had crumbled. She felt like she was dancing on a wire, ready to tip over the edge at the slightest miscalculation.

She was lost in the darkness now, fading away. Some part inside her was still screaming her name, haunting her in a desperation to survive, but her heart was frozen and it felt like she was losing her mind. It was suffocating, being trapped with all the emotions and sorrow—it was burying her alive. There was no point of return anymore, nothing could reach her, but she yearned... she yearned anyway.

'Where was Reaver?'

Everyone thought she was a fool, and maybe she was. After all, she would try to revive what was already lost, almost as if she just couldn't bring herself to realize that hope was only playing a wicked game with her mind. She wanted him, she needed him. She had hoped that something would be able to bind them, but clearly nothing of the sort had happened.

She no longer had Reaver... or her mentor. The people that cared about her—if she could place Reaver into that category—were leaving her slowly, but surely. And she couldn't stop them. At least her brother had remained, but even he had wanted to leave her.

A soft sob escaped her lips and wracked her frame. She was losing everything now, everything she had fought for—everything she thought she had already lost before the battle had even begun.

Shards scattered across the wall and skittered over the floor as she flung a plate at it, an anguished and angered cry leaving her.

In her distraught state, she hadn't noticed her bedroom's doors opening nor the person who entered.

"I thought we had talked about not throwing things around," a voice said, the door shutting with a bang.

Author's Note: And cue cliffhanger, I'm so sorry, but it's honestly not beyond me either. Kudos to anyone who can correctly guess who the intruder is or what might happen next, I'm curious to see everyone's thoughts. Please Follow, Favorite, and Review, as always. :3