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[yourhealthislow]

There's:

Blood of Heroes

Edge of the World

And Blood Ties.

I believe there's The Balverine Order???

Not to mention the mini books on Reaver, Theresa, and Jack. 😊

How long....

How long were you people going to wait to tell me, a fan since childhood!!!!! That Fable had B O O K S

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There's like three at least!

How long....

How long were you people going to wait to tell me, a fan since childhood!!!!! That Fable had B O O K S

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I invited Reaver over for tea and to discuss the kingdoms finances. He wasn't the best of people, actually probably one of the worst... However, I did remember him from my childhood... Only once.

Father looked so relieved to see him that night. After Reaver had left, father was more agitated so I had immediately determined Reaver was awful.

Reaver swept in with his usual grandeur and pomp. Never have I seen a man with such dramatic flair. The extravagant clothes, the perfect make up, the dramatic movement... Reaver could almost pass for an expensive hooker if he wasn't dressed, honestly.

"Logan!," Reaver cheered as he came into the library. "How lovely to see you, my dear." The pet name made me feel weird... This man had known my father and seen me as a child. He put a particular... Purr into it I did not like.

I grunted and looked at him. "Reaver. Thank you for coming. Please," I gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Reaver sat, setting his cane to the side. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Logan?" He asked, eyeing the tea the servant poured him. I sat across him. "I would like to recruit you into my court. To aid in gaining finances for the kingdom."

He perked at "finances". From what I knew, as frivolously as he spent money, Reaver knew how to obtain it just as fast. It was like he conjured it from thin air.

I watched him as he delighted in rambling about ways to make money and cut costs. Most of it sounded horrible, downright evil... But the kingdom needed the money. Albion had to survive, and sadly this flamboyant lowlife was my best shot.

I listened to him for awhile...

When he stopped, I murmured out, "My father would kill me if he were alive to see this..."

Reaver's face changed. Well, not his face. He held an annoying grin in place, but his eyes had lost any mirth. They were empty, devoid of life really. He chuckled. "Why is that? Sparrow would understand."

"You do not have a right to speak his name, Reaver. Show some respect for your king. He would never condone this evil you suggest."

Reaver's smile vanished in an instant as he stood. He picked up his cane. "You evidently know nothing about Sparrow, your majesty", he muttered. He started to walk out and leave, but I called after him.

"You knew him once," I started. "....You knew him. What... What has he like?"

Reaver tensed at the question, gripping his cane. The topic seemed... Hard for him.

He stood silently for a moment then replied, "He was a man like any other. Stupid, arrogant, and irrational. He did as he pleased and loved women's attention."

He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes dull and misty. "He was the last Hero Albion will truly know," he whispered. "Keep your memories and I'll keep mine. You don't need what I know."

In irritation and grief, I watched him stroll out with none of his previous flair.

Reaver knew my father well...

But he obviously had no intention of letting me know who my father had really been. Especially since it seemed to hurt him to say so...

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News of King Sparrow's death spread quickly across Albion. His wife, Alex, wept as she held their ten year old, Logan, and their five month old, Rowan. She and Logan cried for days, and at his funeral they continued.

Sparrow's Butler, Jasper, had a tissue to his nose the whole time. Walter, the young soldier Sparrow trained and trusted, cried silently as he tried to stand strong next to Alex. The servants cried softly and all of Albion mourned their king...

And I, Reaver...

I thought I could stay away. I thought I could ignore it. After all, we hadn't spoken but once since the mess with Lord Lucien. And that once had been... Draining.

Sparrow had called me to his office one night in winter. The same office and same day his sister was murdered. He sat in the desk, drinking from a bottle of brandy and told me the story again as of he hadn't before...

It was like he knew... He knew he was going to die and wanted to tie up loose ends. He asked that I watch the world for signs of darkness. He asked me to help stop it however I could, if not for others, for myself. He spoke of a vision from years ago, the last Theresa showed him. It was of Albion growing dark and the world falling to corruption. He said only his heir would stem the tide...

But Logan was no Hero.

Logan's blood would not awaken in the Sanctuary or anywhere. Logan was as plain as anyone. At least according to Sparrow. I saw the boy's potential for some strength power, but it was true there wasn't much. Just enough to let a skinny little boy carry the family hound with only little wobbles.

Sparrow told me he suspected the child his wife was pregnant with was the last new Hero Albion would see...

He asked me if I was truly content letting the Heroes die out.

I told him that there was a reason the Old Kingdom fell, there was reason for Hero blood going the way of the Archons. He seemed to not like that answer... I guess he assumed my age closeness to Heroes of Old would make me sad for the loss.

How could I be sad for a sort of world I was never part of? How can I lament a loss I didn't suffer? Besides, who wants little me's running around Albion?

That was our last conversation before he passed.

And then I found myself in his tomb after everyone had left.

I stared at the coffin, confused and furious. The bastard just up and died? And for what? He wasn't immoral, but surely he had had more time!

I felt a lump in my throat forming as I spoke.

"You have rotten timing," I said. "Its nearly Logan's 11th birthday and youre just going to miss it? Was the afterlife calling you that much?"

I sighed and got out a bottle to set on his coffin. "You know... You were wrong. I'm not a good man under all this." I sighed. "Whatever was good in me..."

I trailed off. There was no "good" in me... Just Reaver. A taker and a thief. A liar. A killer. Whatever he saw in me was wrong. Just what he wanted to see... But...

I made a choice that night...

I chose to say goodbye to the one man who had decided I was worth more to him than a lay or a tool. To chose to sit next to his coffin with a drink. I toasted him and his honor.

"To you," I choked out, holding the bottle up. "To Sparrow. The piece of shit who couldn't give up, who survived more than most. A Hero among men..." I looked into my bottle, sighing. "And a saint among heathens and sinners. A savior in leather armor..."

I look to the stone hands holding the Guild Seal. "To the last of the full blooded Heroes in Albion. May Avo see you safely to the beyond, my friend."

I hadn't said goodbye to anyone like that. Not since Oakvale.

But with that goodbye, I buried our past, and I buried my heart all over again.

[yourhealthislow]

👼🏻Good and Evil Fable Aesthetics😈

[yourhealthislow]

It shouldn't have been so difficult right? Hellos were the same as goodbyes, and good morning and goodnight all meant the same to me. Nothing but empty pleasantries. However, lately these words scratch at me, knawing at my subconscious and threatening to swallow me whole.

But they're just words.

Right?

Its all that rotten Sparrow's fault. Ever since he showed up I can't help but feel different, and it is certainly not a good different.

I have never, in all my years, met a man so intent on getting under my skin; a presence so insistent it demands my attention and my answers. He's so... Infuriating seems too meager a word to describe this, unfortunately.

Bit by bit he's chipped at my edges, my walls. Bit by bit he's begun to crack my very foundations, and I fear he will cause me to collapse. I cannot allow that.

Yet...

A part of me wants him to.

Part of me craves this collapse; utter destruction and the elevation of pressure to maintain this... This. There's no proper description of what I have become, there's only... This.

It has been a very, very long time since I've felt a desire outside of wealth or my bedroom, and it is quite disconcerting. I cannot wrap my head around it, either.

Every simple touch he gives drives me closer to madness. A pat on the back that's a bit too hard because of his strength. A little squish of my face as he excitedly taps his feet like a child over a puppy. A soothing hand on my shoulder... Its only grown more frequent since he purchased my old house, the bastard.

He must have found my old journal...

I knew I should have burned that thing when I had a chance... But...

I couldn't.

A partial record of my ancient sins and long forgotten history...

I still wonder how the Hero known as Druid would have reacted to everything... Druid had seen Oakvale burn in his youth, lost everything in a night... I bet I would be dead if he had been around that night.

But that damnable journal must be why Sparrow has been so touchy feely towards me. That doesn't, however, explain why the other two are so different to me now.

Those two are far more likely to mock me or ignore me because of that thing.

However, Hammer has given me meals lately, albeit grumpily. Garth has healed me, unprompted, after particularly nasty fights. They seem... Kinder towards me, I suppose? I'm unsure if I should be happy or what.

-----------

I broke...

He did it.

He fucking did it!

Sparrow irreversibly cracked my foundations, shook my core, and destroyed every barrier I had put up, knowingly or not.

And I'm not proud to admit this...

I cried.

I cried like a damned baby and I am ashamed that Garth and Hammer saw it.

And all it took was a fucking hug.

A hug!!

I cannot meet any of their eyes, but they don't exactly expect me to I guess. However, Hammer is quieter with me, Garth is more touchy (I presume he has no idea what to say to me), and Sparrow will not leave my side.

And despite my shame and frustration... I feel safe. I feel almost better in a way. Strange...

I never truly knew I was feeling so badly. I suppose I hid it from myself as well as I hid it from others? Who knew grief could hit you so hard?

Honestly, it felt like a troll had hit me square in the chest. An unyielding, sharp and blunt pain that only fades after hours.

Or was it even grief? Perhaps it was guilt, though that is unlik-.

No...

That's false...

Its not unlikely, its most likely... Guilt for that night so very long ago. /Her/ voice still rings out loudest amongst all of them. Its Her voice I hear in my dreams.

Yet...

And yet.

These three... This band of mismatched idiots are of far more comfort than any lover, drink, or guilty pleasure. I honestly appreciate it....

But they don't have to know that.

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⚒️Hammer x Sparrow⚒️

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💧Garth x Sparrow💧

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🖤Reaver x Sparrow🖤

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🗝️Garth🗝️

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⚒️Hammer⚒️

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I've always wondered what the Hero of Oakvale's reaction would have been to seeing what Reaver did to Oakvale...

I imagine he would have been furious, devasted, panicked...

He would want to kill whoever destroyed his home again, but also desperately want to save the place. He would feel guilty for not being there to stop it...

And I wonder how Reaver would have felt seeing the HoO that night.

I bet he would have felt pure terror and shame. Shame for his actions, and terror over what the Hero might do to him.

Would Reaver have run from the HoO?

Would be have let himself be killed?

Would have tried to convince the nan he was innocent?

I feel like those two meeting would have been devastating and painful for the both of them.

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🌹Reaver🌹

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🔮Maze🔮

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🌊Whisper🌊

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⚔️Hero of Oakvale⚔️

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Whisper and the Hero of Oakvale were never friends and you can fight me on that.

Maybe Whisper viewed their relationship as friends and as them having a friendly rivalry, but I doubt the HoO viewed her the same way.

Every interaction with her involves her projecting her own insecurities onto him, mocking him, and trying to one up him. Even when she's trying to be playful it can come off as a thinly veiled insult.

The HoO grew up in the Guild being forced to shove down his grief and be roommates with someone who views him as competition instead of a companion.

Growing up together, training together, taking meals together does not make anyone friends.

And their lack of friendship, in my opinion, is truly shown by how rarely Whisper on his side.

Throughout the game, everything has to be a competition to her, with her consistently instigating because she can't get over the fact that she's insecure, that her brother is why she feels inadequate, not the HoO.

I firmly believe that if they were true friends, she would have left him be and tried to be a great Hero WITH him, not stand against him so often. If they were friends she would have treated him better than she did.