A/N: This story contains major spoilers for those who haven't beaten Fable 3. I have taken some slight liberties(who hasn't?) when it comes to some character details. None the less, I hope you enjoy!
Those dreams. The darkness that echoed in his mind was driving Logan insane. The wounds still throbbed and even now he could hear the death knells from his men. Nothing would be able to rip the memories from his mind. All he had at that moment was his life and a promise to the woman who had saved it. A life for a life. Logan had promised the woman an army. He had promised to send more of his soldiers into the heat of an unknown desert and battle some ancient evil.
Logan stared into the distance, hoping to see the shores of his home, but saw nothing except an endless ocean. He tightened his grip on the railing and lowered his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be home, to hold a familiar body in his arms and listen to the stories he had always thought dull. Logan was surprised at how much he missed his sister. The threat of death had put everything into a new perspective. While he could best anyone in battle the only thing on the forefront of his mind besides his sister was training. He knew he would put Walter through the wringer in an attempt to hone his skills even further.
The time at sea ran together and the crew that carried him was just the bare essentials. Logan would offer them refuge in return but as he studied the tired men, he had a feeling they would only wish to return home. They all bore battle scars. Logan touched his lip, feeling the tender wound and knowing that he would have one of his own. There were others, yes, but only the one was readily visible. The others, the ones that held the horror of that dark battle, were hidden beneath clothing and heavily bandaged.
Soon enough he was on the shores of his homeland but there was no royal procession. There had been no use in sending a letter, it would have been ages before it reached the castle and even longer before help would have found him. It was fear of another attack that drove him away, and that same fear that made that promise.
Logan stumbled through the streets of Bowerstone unrecognized by his citizens. He wore clothes alien to them and the aftermath of exploration and battle had left him gaunt. Even as he stared at his own likeness on the streets Logan could see how much he had changed. He needed to get home. He needed the comfort of a familiar face.
The castle walls loomed over Logan as he hurried towards the closed gate. The guards eyed him, not seeing their king but a crazed man in his place. Both moved to stop him, weapons at the ready as they shouted at him to stop, while the two standing guard in the towers drew their firearms.
"Let me pass," Logan spat. His voice was hoarse and his throat dry. No doubt he did not sound like himself.
"Unless you are here on official business-"
"I highly doubt that."
"-we cannot let you through."
Logan narrowed his eyes. He had made it this far, he would not be denied access to his own home. "By order of the King," Logan said, managing to call up his natural voice, "I suggest you move before I have you both locked away."
The color in their faces seemed to drain and they both snapped to attention. "Do you wish us to inform the servant, your majesty."
"Just let me through," Logan said waving his hand. "I need to speak with Walter and my sister."
Neither guard protested and the signal was given for the gate to be opened. Logan watched as his home came into view. The well groomed gardens and wandering nobles a welcomed sight. As he crossed the threshold, though, the ground before him seemed to tilt. Pressing a hand to his head Logan stopped and tried to clear his mind. He looked past the tilting ground and up at the palace. As he blinked he felt his stomach tighten at the sight of the palace on fire.
"No," Logan murmured. "It cannot be." He shook his head and squeezed eyes shut, knowing that it had to be an illusion. Slowly opening his eyes Logan felt fear grip as he stared into the face of it. There was no time for him to contemplate what was before him before everything seemed to go black.