(A/N: So I recently played through Fable 2 and Fable 3…It's been forever since I played the first game to be perfectly honest. But I like the characters in the sequels so much better. Any way…I had to write a bit of Fable 3 fanfiction. You don't have to like it because it is slash and it is Logan and the Prince, i.e. incest. But don't flame because you think 'I'm an icky sinner pants who should burn in hell' it is fanfiction and it can say whatever I want it to. Really though this is being written because of the way the game played out and made me feel about the pair of them. Also, I don't like Elise; Eliot is the Prince's childhood friend. And clearly I'm not chronicling the events of the game verbatim. I own nothing!)
Broken Thrones and Discarded Crowns
The Prince would never forget the day that he was forced to leave the castle, to leave his home behind. Some madness had taken his brother, ravaged the once sane and civil mind and spat out the corrupted being that had held the throne. Logan's paranoia had known no bounds and he had forced his younger brother to make such a cruel decision. For a moment the Prince's eyes watered and his throat felt thick as he remembered Eliot's pale face, the hopelessness coupled with determination in wide eyes.
They had known each other since they were children, and Eliot had been dangerously close to stealing the Prince's heart away. But the decision had to be made, and the Prince chose the people over himself, kissing Eliot's soft lips in teary-eyed apology before he was dragged away by Logan's men.
That day he had spat on his brother, on the memory of a childhood spent laughing with the older man. And he calmly accepted the crushing backhand that his brother dealt to him. He accepted it when Logan's hand wrapped around his throat, it was not his brother behind those eyes. For the last four or so years the Prince had known that Logan's mind was sick, that something had happened in the strange land of Aurora, but he had been unable to help. Logan had closed himself off, isolated himself and made his war room a fortress of solitude. Never once did his love for his brother waver.
His breath was running out and still Logan's strong hand held him in place on the floor in front of the throne. No one remained to watch as his brother roughly crushed their lips together, stealing all traces of Eliot away in one bruising kiss. Tears slid down his cheeks as the kiss continued against his will, it was his brother's body that held him up, but not his brother's true heart. Kisses that he had once savored were now painful to him. He knew that his brother still lived inside of the monster, and so stayed his hand when it came to rest on Logan's sword. Every man deserved a chance for redemption.
So, weeping, the Prince bound his arms around his brother and kissed back with all that he had in his heart. He held Logan to him and silently begged his brother to come back to him. Something softened in his brother in that moment and there was tenderness in the gesture when the King released his brother's lips to bow his forehead against the Prince's. In that moment the Prince knew that his brother still existed, that the man he had loved still loved him.
"I'm so sorry brother. I'm sorry and I hope that one day you can understand," Logan had whispered before violently casting the Prince away into the waiting arms of Sir Walter. The last view that the Prince had of his brother was that of a broken man, sitting crumpled on the ground before his thrown, crown rolling away. The Prince wept as they made arrangements to leave the castle.
He didn't honestly care that he was a Hero. Part of him even resented his father's blood. Logan was the one who needed the strength. The Prince wanted to be there to help his brother, not to orchestrate a rebellion against him. But it had been hammered into his head that that was what Albion needed, what the people wanted. So he went along with it.
And when he reached out to the people, seeing the suffering that his brother's madness had caused, the Prince would remember his brother's parting words. He knew what the older man had been apologizing for, and it hadn't been the kiss. So the Prince took it upon himself as the Hero that his brother couldn't be, to set things to rights. A rebellion it was, but certainly one that would benefit Logan.
It was Aurora that did it. The hateful embrace of the Crawler that nearly claimed Walter, the darkness that had engulfed his own soul. Only the heart of a Hero could have stood up to that assault.
The Prince wished in his darkest moments that Logan had never gone on that voyage. He wished that he could cut out his own heart, sever that which made him a Hero from his body and give all of his strength to Logan. The evil inside of his brother was inside of Walter as well. The Prince knew that beyond a doubt as he saw Walter's sightless eyes, as that cruel empty voice taunted him time and again. Father's blood had failed Logan. Logan had never failed anyone, and the Prince refused to believe anything but that truth.
He would save Albion from Logan's hands, wrest the crown from his brother's head and lighten the other man's burdened shoulders if need be. He was the ruler that Albion needed, the one that could revitalize it and hold true all promises made to the people. And he would save Aurora from the vile creature called the Crawler, not because they had given him their aide in overthrowing his brother, but because they had asked. But chief in his heart, the core of him wanted to save what was left of his brother. The darkness that haunted Logan and Walter could be chased out if only he took the time to think of a way to do it.
On the return trip he finalized plans for the rebellion, ignoring Ben Finn's advice to simply slay Logan on the spot and take the bloodied crown. There was no such thing as a bloodless rebellion in their minds, and the Prince knew that there would be blood, but he was determined that it not be his brother's. If the blind Seer that had been appearing to him on odd occasions was the same one that his father had known, then surely she knew of a cure. The darkness could be blasted from his brother's mind and Logan would be Logan again. His brother would have warms smiles and kind words and helping hands once again.
"Come for me at last little brother?" Logan asked sorrowfully as they entered the war room with a crash. The Prince noted that Logan did not draw his sword and so sheathed his own weapon. "I don't want the crown anymore, I don't want the throne. Take them dear brother," Logan's voice was soft and the Prince held up a hand to make sure that no one tackled his brother.
"I know the darkness that you've faced. I will free you from it," the Prince whispered in his brother's ear as Logan handed him the crown. A few tears gathered in Logan's eyes, and for a moment it seemed that he would cry.
"Everything I did, I did for Albion," Logan's voice shook, no longer as strong as it was a moment ago. He was led away, his fate to be determined tomorrow by the Prince who would in a moment be King. And the crown weighed heavily on him, regal clothing suffocating.
The new King was already weary of what needed to be done. But he would accomplish it. His own treasury had been more than enough to fill the coffers with twice what he had been told they would need. Logan was his main concern; all other promises would be easily fulfilled.
"Logan, former King of Albion. What have you to say for yourself?" Walter's words, but not his same voice, the darkness the Crawler had left in him had altered it. The King knew that Logan recognized that in the older man.
"The people, Albion, they've always been my greatest concern. The darkness in Aurora comes to us. It wants to engulf us. Brother, I was visited by a blind Seer…I…was not strong enough, and never would have been. You are the man that I need you to be, the King that Albion needs you to be," Logan's voice was broken and his normal eloquence was gone. The King stood from his throne, ignoring the proclamations of treachery and fear. His decision had been made a year ago, when his brother's lips had crushed his own and madness had been made clear.
"Logan, brother," both of his hands framed his brother's face. Logan was taller, his figure more imposing. But inside the new King was still that eight year old so frightened of the storms in the night that he'd crawled into his brother's bed for safety. And for once, he saw that he could repay Logan for always having been there. "I pardon you…your transgressions, small and large, are forgiven" the King said gently. Their eyes remained locked as the people cleared out. Disappointment was obvious in their tones and faces, some had been accepting, but not many.
"My King," Logan's voice cracked with fatigue, they probably hadn't let him sleep before the trial. "I can only say…" the King did not let him finish speaking, sealing Logan's lips with his own in a gentle kiss. Tears flooded down the younger man's cheeks as he pulled his brother close. Logan did not hesitate to return the embrace, melding his lips with his brother's as his own tears fell. The kiss so much sweeter than their last one was exactly what the King thought of when he remembered his brother. Long nights spent in the other man's arms, bodies meant for one another, those kisses had always been soft and slow.
"I love you, you foolish man. If it was too much for you to bear you need only have asked," the King said softly, voice thick with tears, lips scant inches from the other man's. Logan's fingers tangled in the King's long hair, holding on to his brother for dear life.
"Dear brother, I love you with all my heart, and I never wanted to hurt you….but a year ago I knew that you weren't ready. I knew that you had to hate me…"
"I never hated you. Never. I wanted to save you. I still do," the King affirmed softly, wiping the tears from his brother's cheeks. He caught sight of Walter out of the corner of his eye, but kissed Logan again anyway. And his brother responded easily, as though their lips were always meant to have gone together. He refused to see it as wrong. Just as he had refused when they were younger.
"I will fight beside my King. I will never leave his side and if his safety requires my life than I shall freely give it," Logan professed gently, words whispered against softly parted lips.
"For now, all the King asks is that you remain at his side. And the King is going to his chambers," the King smiled softly, threading his fingers with his brother's when the hand was offered.
"Then I will join him. And, if he'll still have me…" Logan smirked softly and kissed his brother's neck, earning a blush from the younger man. They'd only made love a few times, in their more drunken moments, after all the then Prince had been young, and Logan very protective of his brother. Neither of them had much of a reason to resist any longer.
"Always dear brother, always."
(A/N: There it is, first bit of Fable fanfiction ever. I hope you like it, but if you didn't how's about some nice critique. I generally don't do flames, they leave blisters. And on top of that, I warned ya all nice and fair like.)