Fable III: The End (One-Shot)

Before you actually read this, keep in mind that I'm bad at writing. All of the thoughts organized in here are probably not going to make much sense, because they're sort of being written as they're thought of. I figured since I didn't see much Fable fanfiction on here (at least I don't think I did), I'd do my first story as a sort of one-shot for the most recent Fable game, Fable III. This is about the female Hero of Brightwall after she becomes queen in the game, basically organizing what I suspect could be her thoughts at the end. This is a hero that didn't make all the moral decisions, one that decided that the ends would justify the means and she put many people through suffering to fund the final battle. In other words, the people probably don't like her too much.

The final battle was over with and the Crawler was defeated. The queen walked through the corridors of her castle, towards the Throne Room. She gently brought her left hand to her waist, thinking of the one of many scars on her body that rested there under her clothes. This one was one that was fresh, that was from the final battle, and she could feel the adrenaline surge throughout her body just by the thought of it.

The adrenaline passed quickly, though, and she was soon at her destination, the throne room. Walking towards her seat at the end of this long red carpet, she decided it was time to assess her feelings, something she hadn't had the time to do during this recent journey. Thinking about it, she realized too soon that now that there were no enemies, the land of Albion was going to return to its state of boring peace.

She didn't like this sudden peaceful feeling. It was unsatisfying, it was horrible, it was too calm for her. Her mother, the previous queen and Hero of Bowerstone, must have felt the same thing, she decided. As horrible and evil as it was, she secretly longed to be back on the battlefield, to crush the bones of men and watch the blood spill out onto the ground, staining the world a beautiful scarlet color.

Sitting on her throne, thinking, was the Hero of Brightwall, the new Queen of Albion. She wondered silently if there was going to be another revolution. Though she had once led a revolution against her brother, she turned out to be another tyrant, to the surprise of the poor citizens of Albion. Of course, it was all for a good cause, to keep them alive and fund the army against the final enemy. No one would listen to that, though, they all hated her as much as they had hated her brother.

She didn't care.

The people were going to rebel against her and they were going to make it fun. They were going to overthrow her and most likely execute her in the end because she was going to refuse to fix all of her wrongdoings near the end.

And she was going to enjoy every second of it.