I don't own Fable 3 or any of its characters, Lionhead Studios does. Based on the 2010 XBOX Game.

Princess/Logan

Rated M for explicit adult content and incest. Don't like, don't read!

The rating is listed as M for certain chapters, as well as the theme of incest. Also, my interpretation of Logan for this particular story may seem OOC to some readers, so be warned! Also, I will not be strictly following the plot-line of the game. There will be some changes and deviations.

King Logan and Princess Annika are becoming ever closer. Annika is determined to understand her brother and stand by him even while the entire Kingdom begins to turn against him. But how can she do that while her part in a Prophecy approaches and begins to claim her?

Come Closer

#36

She had made her Choice. She had made the best decision for Albion, and, she admitted to herself guiltily, for herself and Logan. It was not difficult, really, the decision between the two prisoners, but a sick emptiness filled her heart. If this was what is was like to be a Ruler, then both she and Logan had drawn short straws before they were even born.

Her love and lover was beautifully naked beneath her on the Royal Bed, but the excitement and passion that she should have felt was starkly absent. She was atop him, facing away from him, and rode him vigorously, but in body only. Her emotions had fled along with her sensations to a place so deep inside her that she did not even know if she had them any longer.

Logan's hands gasped her hips as he helped her move. He dearly loved to feel every space inside her that he could, and his thrusting and stirring motions elicited beautiful sounds of pleasure from him.

If only she could appreciate them. If only she could truly care.

"Please, my love, my Annika, please turn around and let me see you!"

She could not. If she did, he would see the bleak desolation that surely was visible in her eyes. She loved him, and though she could not feel that love at the moment, she knew that she could not, would not, hurt him in such a manner.

"Annika?"

In response she clenched her muscles tighter around him and rode him harder and faster. She had to bring him pleasure, she just had to!

Yes, he deserved that much. He deserved so much more, but at the moment she was unable to give it. All she could do was please him physically and hope that he knew he need not fear that she was lost to him.

Logan's hands began to spasm on her hips as he grunted in uncontrollable bliss. She knew how to elicit all his sensations of delectation even though they had not been lovers for long. But if she did not want him to climax just yet, she would have to keep him distracted. She did not want to lay with him and face the questions she knew he would have. She had to keep them physically occupied.

She had to keep him distracted and helpless in order to not question her or notice her lack of spirit.

Annika quickly raised herself off him and bent down to close her mouth over his engorged member. Tasting her own juices on him pleased her, especially now. He would not notice her lack of desire. Her body desired him well and truly, but her heart did not. Her long wild hair splayed over his belly as she worked on him with her mouth. His fingers twined through her unruly curls and the sounds he emitted were positively lovely.

"Annika," he said tightly, but could not speak further.

She used her thumb and forefinger to encircle the base of his cock, squeezing it to help him control his raging desire. She did not want him to come; not yet.

The unendurably sorrowful look on Page's face as she unemotionally announced her Choice refused to leave her mind's eye, as well as the horrified expression on Swifts'.

Annika took Logan's member into her throat so deeply she had to fight the urge to gag. Logan's thin desperate fingers scrabbled against her head as she determined to keep her love speechless.

"Annika, I beg you!"

She ignored him, working even harder to render him unable to speak and his body out of his own control. Sliding her fingers down to tease at his sac helped her succeed and all Logan could do now was moan and sigh. He was utterly helpless, caught in her web of power and dominance.

The murmurs of those present in the Throne Room still reverberated in her ears. Utterances of disbelief mingled with murmurs of both approval and disapproval taunted her. Shouts of congratulations as well as curses directly aimed at her tormented her mercilessly.

So why hadn't she left immediately afterwards? Why hadn't she fled to the Sanctuary through the Guild Seal? Why had she remained for the ceremonial reading of the charges of high treason, the firing squad for the one she had not Chosen, and not tear herself away from the sight and sound of the body of her comrade collapse to the ground, lifeless?

Logan. He was why. His love and need for her understanding and forgiveness pierced her fragile heart. His fear and guilt tore at her soul. The fathomless despair and naked grief in his eyes bound her to him more tightly than chains; or even their Soul Bond.

No, she could not leave him without loving him, or at least loving him and reassuring him as best she was able.

Damnation, she had been too good in loving him! Logan's cock twitched in her throat and his guttural cry rent the air as he helplessly gave in to the release that neither could stave off for him.

What would she do now? How could she avoid speaking with him, much less looking at him?

She acted selfishly and desperately. With inhuman speed she climbed over him and straddled his head, lowering her sex over his face.

"Pleasure me, Logan. I demand it!"

Insidious nigglings of guilt pricked her conscience as he obeyed her without question. Once again his hands held her hips. She could feel his desperate need to please her, placate her, and earn, in his mind, even a fraction of the atonement he believed he needed to pay her. His skilled lips and tongue played along her womanly flesh and for the first time that day, bolts of euphoria, unwanted as they were, wormed their way thoroughly through her sex.

Gods, he was too skilled! She did not want to receive a single ounce of bliss from him! She did not deserve it. Not today. Not this time.

Damn it, though, her body was beginning to betray her. Her rigid self-control began to slowly crumble and erode as his warm lips suckled her tender flesh and his tongue danced along the slick nub he referred to as her 'pearl of love.'

Heated tentacles of frantic need wound their way around her thighs while invisible hands needfully caressed her breasts. Logan's mouth was almost palpable against her lips and tear-stained cheeks despite him being firmly trapped beneath her.

Annika had forgotten that he had his own 'powers.' She was not the only one who could wield the power of Will; not where their love was concerned. His power, borne now of raw fear, was stronger than hers.

He pulled her hips down so firmly that she feared she would smother him, but he was obviously past caring. All at once every nerve-ending in her body locked itself inextricably in the nub of flesh he scraped and nipped with his teeth.

Her own release came with an explosion of naked and unadorned animalistic expression. Involuntarily she tossed her head back and keened in both satisfaction and frustration.

She was also afraid. Her body, now under Logan's control, fell backwards in a boneless heap of quivering aftershocks of physical rapture.

His gaunt and frightened face appeared over her own and she was unable to close her eyes.

"Annika?" His voice was filled with pain. His expression and entire countenance radiated it.

Hot tears dripped from his large dark eyes onto her flushed cheeks. His lips thinned and quivered and she had never before seen such agony and torment in a human face.

"I love you, my Annika." Choked, strained, hoarse, pleading.

"Please, love me, forgive me, and try to understand!" Desperate, terrified, ragged, and tortured.

She could only stare into his eyes which were only a fraction away from bleak and black soullessness.

She did not respond. She could not.

Her Choice. It made perfect sense, especially in light of her letter to him.

Swift sat in his temporary chambers and was fighting the battle of his life. He had never thought that he could battle forces other than physical evils, but he found himself doing so now.

She had another, she had written. She had another who could organise and lead the Rebel Underground. Two people, in truth. And he, Jack Swift, was needed to train the Underground properly.

If the Revolution was to succeed, fighting men and women who knew how to wield their weapons and utilise every ounce of skill and courage they possessed were absolutely necessary. Without such the Revolution was doomed to failure from the start.

Page had been the expendable one. She had been the replaceable one.

But there was only one man, one soldier, one unofficial General who could ensure that Princess Annika would overthrow the Tyrant King when the time was right.

Swift sighed and reached for his pipe with a shaking hand. He knew that Annika had made the only Choice she could, and that it was the right one for Albion.

Still, he knew that both she and himself would carry the guilt of Page's execution with them for the rest of their lives.

The torment in Annika's eyes as she announced her Choice had nearly rent his heart in two. He knew, even then, that she did not spare him solely out of fatherly love for him, but for practical and realistic reasons.

The young woman feared that he hated her now. She feared that he would never speak to her again, much less look upon her as anything less than a monster.

He would have to assure her otherwise. He loved her as a daughter, and he respected and admired her courage. Although he knew that he would have been willing to take Page's place, he understood why he had been spared; why he had needed to be spared. Still...

He drew a ragged puff from his pipe and took up a quill. He would write to Annika at once and attempt to allay her fears. He would send the letter to the Sanctuary and hope that she would receive it quickly and not grieve or fear his censure. He still loved and respected her.

Now, more than ever, they would need each other to lean upon and rely upon.

He only hoped that Walter would do the same for the young Princess. When he would find out what transpired this day, Swift feared that Walter may not be so understanding. Despite the fact that the older man valued both him and Page, he may fear that Annika's being capable of making such a horrific choice would lure or tempt her down her brother's path of tyranny. Walter already feared that Annika was too much like Logan, but Swift knew that was not true. She loved her brother, but she did not intend to lead the People and Rule as he did. She was her own person, and she was different. Wasn't she?

Swift sighed heavily. However Annika would evolve as the Hero, he knew that he himself would follow her. She was Albion's only hope. As a Hero and as a young woman, she needed all the help she could get, and not just from allies, but from true friends.

Logan staggered to his dressing room, a wreck of a man. Annika had fled him! He had begged for her love and understanding, and she had been unable or unwilling to speak. Then she had snatched a bed-sheet, wrapped it around herself, and fled to the dressing room.

He had lain silently, filled with fear and dread, his very heart freezing in his chest even as it pounded furiously. His mind had raced with possible reasons why she had run from him. Did she merely need time? Was she trying to collect herself? She was obviously grieving, so was bringing her to his bed a horrible mistake?

Regardless of any of those possibilities, she had just made love with him. If she hated him, would she not have said so and left him? But she had stayed. She had not spoken other than to command him, but she had stayed.

After an undetermined length of time the young King knew that she would not be returning to bed. Rising, he had decided to follow her and hope she was still in his dressing room.

He opened the door, his stomach knotting when he saw that she was not there. He recovered when he saw what she had left behind, however. On the table were very special flowers that filled him with hope and joy, although he feared he was unworthy of either.

A single red rose said to him, "I love you." Three white roses surrounding it added, "My love is eternal." And the scarlet zinnia beneath them assured him that, "My love is constant."

Logan snatched up the flowers and held them to his heart, tears now streaming from his eyes and wetting them.

He was not alone. He had not lost her.

The grieving young woman in the bar at the Shelter started when a hand fell gently upon her shoulder.

"Linda, what did that miserable git do to you?"

She sighed and covered his hand with hers, silently inviting him to be seated next to her. She could barely believe she was going to confide in him, but then, why not? She had carried this sorrow alone for long enough.

Linda took the now-worn letter from her trousers pocket and handed it to Ben Finn. From the corner of her eye she saw him read it. Soon his mouth morphed into a thin line of anger and the hand holding the letter shook violently.

"That rutting bastard!" he spat as soon as he finished reading. "Who in the hells does he think he is? He blames everyone but himself and uses Annika and Logan as excuses to just cast you aside like garbage?"

"Ben," she began softly, retrieving the letter from him, "I'm sure it isn't like that! He just..."

"He just what, Linda?" the young soldier snarled. "He just realised that since Annika is both the Princess and the Hero that you aren't good enough for him any more? He can take and take from you until someone comes along who can offer him prestige and coin?"

Linda winced. She knew that Ben could well be correct. Still, Elliot had never pretended to be other than who and what he was; a young man born of nobility who had fallen upon difficult times.

"He... he lost his home and his love," she whispered. "And when she came along and rescued him, he probably couldn't help himself." She smiled a wan smile and took Ben's hand. "Ben, you know Annika, and I know her, too, at least a little! She's an incredible woman, not to mention lovely! Can he really be blamed for choosing her over someone like me?"

"You mean someone who took him in when Annika was no longer a prospect for him? Someone who loved him even though he had lost his lands and any hope of marrying into the Royal Family? A lovely woman who has a heart as large as Albion and gives and gives until she can give no more and never asks for anything in return?"

He seized her hand in both of his and held it tightly. "I know you don't want to think ill of him, but that look on your face and in your eyes tells me that you know I'm right. You are more tired than usual, your eyes have lost their sparkle, and even your stride isn't confident any more. Linda, he's a rotten bastard and you know it."

Linda blushed even as she still grieved her loss of Elliot. Trying to deflect the blond soldier's uncomfortably accurate assessments, she looked him directly in his face.

"Well, what am I to do? Hunt him down and beat him?"

The moment the words escaped her lips she gasped, realising suddenly that Ben Finn was the wrong man to say such things to.

"Sounds good to me," he grumbled angrily.

"Now, Ben, I don't really mean that!" she hastened to add. "I'll be all right. I just need some time and I'll be as good as new!"

"Will you?" His piercing blue eyes bored into her dark ones. "Linda, I think you have too many burdens for one woman to bear... alone."

"But Ben, I have no-one else!"

Linda gazed into his face and tried once more to smile. "I did this alone before and I can continue to do so."

Ben surprised her by suddenly cupping her face in his calloused palms. "Maybe, but you won't. I'll be with you, love, every bit of the way."

She swallowed thickly. This man had been worming his way into her heart from the moment they met. And, now that Elliot had deserted her, she had to admit to herself that she was, perhaps, relieved. She had never felt good enough for Elliot, despite all his assurances and uncomfortable platitudes to the contrary, but Ben Finn was different. He took people at face value and accepted or rejected them at once.

He had accepted her, and more, he had shown her that he cared about her and her problems. He was so starkly sincere that she knew she would never have to worry about what he was thinking. He wore his heart, desires, and opinions on his proverbial sleeve.

"But what about the Revolution?" she whispered fearfully yet hopefully.

"We're in this together, Linda," he replied. "You and me, we can be a damned good team. That is, if you want us to be."

Her breathing quickened when he leaned in and pressed a light kiss upon her lips. Then he pulled back just far enough to look into her wide eyes.

"Do you want to, Linda? Do you want to... ah... team with me?" His usual manly confidence was reduced to a boyish uncertainty.

Her heart was racing and her lips were tingling from his kiss, and she knew he knew that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Still, he plainly did not intend to push her.

He wasn't pushing her, however, she realised. She wanted to team with him for not only the Revolution, but to see how they would fare as a possible couple.

"Yes, Ben, I would like very much to team with you."

He grinned and leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. "My lady, you won't regret it!"

"I'd better not. If you do to me what Elliot did, I'll gut you with a butter knife!"

He laughed out loud. "If I do that, you'd better! And," he added with a dramatic flourish, placing his hand over his heart, "besides, Annika herself, not to mention the Major and Page, would gladly step in and help you!"

Linda laughed boisterously for the first time in days. Her next ale, which she shared with Ben, was the best she had ever tasted.

Annika appeared in the Sanctuary and, as she had feared, right in front of Jasper. At the sight of the sheet-clad Princess, he tactfully turned his back to her.

"Greetings, Princess Annika. Ah... do you need my assistance? May I fetch you some clothes? Something to eat?"

"How about a bath!" another voice bellowed.

Both Annika and Jasper gasped and whirled about. Walter stood at the other end of the map table and glared at her. He had obviously just arrived and was in a frothing rage.

"Do you care to tell me where the hells you have been and with who?"

"Wh... why are you so angry?" she gasped. "Have you any idea what just happened at the Castle?"

"I can smell on you what happened!" he growled, approaching her one heavy footfall at a time. "And I know exactly what happened in the Throne Room and in the Courtyard. But it seems that none of that means much to you if you can find the time and the inclination to get yourself bedded just after!"

"Sir!" Jasper gasped.

"Oh, shut it!" Walter roared. "I've finally figured it out." He glared at the shivering young woman.

"You have disappointed me, Annika, and you know very well why! Him of all people? Not only do you bed the tyrant of Albion, but he's your own brother!"

"Sir!" Jasper burst out again, truly distraught for the first time Annika had ever seen him.

She herself, however, was frightened to her very heart. She should have known that Walter would not be ignorant forever.

"I sure as the hells hope you can be a good Queen," he continued quietly; too quietly. He peered down into her tearing eyes but did not soften one iota. "I hope you can rule the land better than you do your own morals. You are as depraved as Logan! I never thought I could look at you and feel sick to my stomach, but I do now. Your parents, rest their souls, must be as sick to see what you've become as I am."

Walter stormed off into the Weapons Room and Annika sank to her knees. Jasper immediately rushed to her and knelt behind her to support her.

"Miss? Please, try to not be so upset! He'll come around, at least as far as how much he loves and cares for you! He must!"

"But he's right, Jasper! I cannot help who I love and I won't hurt Logan for anything, but losing Walter..." She burst into sobs as the old man held her to his chest in an awkward attempt to comfort her. "He once said he would never abandon me, but now I don't know what to think."

She sagged to the floor and Jasper did the same. He bunched the sheet more firmly around her and held her as she continued to cry.

"I'll never abandon you, Princess Annika, no matter what, so please don't lose hope for Sir Walter!"

Annika continued to cry and even hoped that if she cried enough that everything would either go away or set itself aright. That was a foolish notion, but it was all she could cling to at the moment. This had been the most difficult day of her life and there was nothing she could think of that could make it seem less than absolutely, unendurably hopeless.