Hello All :)
It's been a while since I've written anything and I'm back in the game universe (at least temporarily). I played Fable recently with the See the Future add on and something struck me about the ending where I thought it might make a good fic. I tried something a little new this time, and so the story is a little ambiguous and understated. I really wanted the reader to get something out of it for themselves so I'd LOVE to hear what conclusion you reached by then end -think of it like an experiment :)
I hope you enjoy it - please feel free to give me feedback of any kind!
Disclaimer: I do not own Fable or any recognizable content
Take my hand one last time…
Years had passed since that last visit with Theresa, and as Sparrow sat at the elegant desk of her study she smiled slightly at the memory. They had never truly been friends, but there had been an understanding between both women, a mutual respect for a recognized equal. The ex-Hero tucked a heavily silvered lock of hair behind her ear and removed the glasses from her nose, too tired to continue the work she had set out before her.
She was older now, well past child bearing years and she wondered if what her old mentor said was really still truth.
Pushing herself slowly from the chair she had occupied all evening, the matured hero crossed the wide expanse of her study and stood in the place she had all those years ago, the platform where she had watched as her world was turned upside down, where Rose had died.
Stretching out before her twinkled the lights of the main Bowerstone square, and just to the west came the scattered lights of her childhood home at the gypsy camp. She had visited her adoptive family only once since she had taken the throne and begun to rule Albion as queen. They understood, had come to visit her instead; but Sparrow couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that had grown with every successive year.
It weighed so heavily on her now, regret.
She had never seen the other three Heroes again. Not Hammer who had decided to live out her years in the sanctuary of Oakfield, nor Garth the man who had been her mentor as a young woman. Both were lost to her, through time, through her own inability to make time for them.
And as for Reaver…
Sparrow's eyes gazed unseeingly into the night sky, her thin hands brushing the cool glass of the window. They had never been close by any sense of the word, but there had been something there between them, something neither of them had dared to give attention to. He was too damaged to admit it, and she had been too proud. Lost and untouched though it was, Sparrow felt her chest squeeze at the thought.
It has been many years from now; a queen feels age weighing her down, and the responsibility of an entire kingdom.
She was old enough now, wise enough, to recognize the feelings now though she was still too much of a coward to give it voice. Looking back as she often did, Sparrow knew she had made the correct decision to let it go. And yet her chest hurt still, pained her as she remembered the aristocratic face and deep color of his eyes.
If she ever saw him again she knew he would be unchanged by the flow of time. Emotionally scarred as he was, haunted by what he had done, Reaver would eternally be beautiful, a mark she had come to believe burdened him greatly. The pirate called Reaver, the man named Robin.
Sighing to herself, Sparrow turned away from the window, tugging the thick velvet drapes closed as she did so. The day had ended long ago; she had little to do besides go to her empty bedroom.
She had married only once, when she had been younger, more handsome woman, and they had been happy together for their short while. He was a young aristocrat who was content to be a scholar, she was a hero glad to have found someone who loved her. Modest in income but truly wealthy in the love they shared for one another, the birth of their daughter had made their lives perfect.
Sparrow brushed away the stray tear.
Lucien had paid for their death, but the pain had never truly dulled and she could never find it in herself to accept another. To look at any other man and only see her husband had been more than she could bear.
And so the people had whispered about her ill-fated love, told their children about the tragedy that had befallen her Robin and their little Finch.
To think that once there had been laughter and amusement, jokes about her love for birds.
Sparrow's steps faltered, slowed before stopping entirely, just outside her study door. She didn't want to bed, not anymore. She didn't want to fall asleep knowing there would be no one there in the morning to give her the smile she imagined while she slept.
She had done her duty to Albion, had sacrificed everything to keep her safe, just as Theresa had said she would. But now she was done. She was at the end of her life and she could do this no longer.
She was going to leave, and her kingdom would be alright. She did not have to be the sword and shield anymore. She could be herself, just Sparrow, and Albion would take her back.
Albion with its soft promises of wild adventure would whisper to her once more and find a reply in the woman who had resisted it for so long.
These are her men. Loyal soldiers that would die for her, many already have. On battle fields, at home and far away, they would follow wherever she leads.
But this time she would not lead them, nor would she ever again.
Wrapped in a simple cloak she had hidden from her dressing woman all those years ago, Sparrow descended the front steps of Fairfax Castle and walked past the guards that had protected her for all of her years as Queen.
She had left them a message, had thanked them for their service with enough money to keep their families comfortable for a long while. She would not see any of them ever again.
These are her people. Subjects who worship her, who trust her to guide them, protect them and govern them.
Bowerstone was different now, and as she drifted through the empty streets Sparrow knew they would be different if she ever returned.
She had watched the children of this city grow, marry, have children of their own. It had been her truest joy to attend their festivals and her proudest moment to have protected them against all that tried to harm them.
They would always hold a place in her heart for them, and should they ever truly need her again she would return.
But Albion was calling to her and she knew it was her time to answer.
And this is her throne. Albion's seat of power where she has made countless decisions, delivered justice and led a nation…yet none of this is of the least importance.
He was waiting for her.
Draped in the familiar dark cloak, he stood motionless as the wind moved through his hair and brushed his face, unchanged as she knew it would be.
Silent as she moved to stand next to him, her face serene as she surveyed the wide expanse of ocean that lay before them. He turned to glance at her and seemed to pause for a moment as he surveyed the creases on her face, his own expressionless as he observed her.
Beneath his cloak, one thin hand drifted to a familiar gun before stilling and moving to finger the familiar disk of black and gold at his side, the key. His hand trembled; their key.
And when at last she spoke, it was with a smile and a whisper.
"Hello Robin. Did you find what you were looking for?"
This is the Real Future.
He didn't respond immediately but took her hand in his own as he turned to leave, "Let's go." And together they walked through the doors of the Shadow Court to change the course of history forever.
Her child, not yet born, but destined for greatness. A child on who the fate of Albion will depend on one day, as will the fate of Aurora.
Thanks for reading!