A/N:

This has probably been done a zillion times already. Sorry, I beat Fable III today and I just had to. And sorry for the quality too... not my best work, but I hope I did the scene justice.

Dedicated to all heroes

Who don't believe in themselves

Who have lost

Who have become lost

"You've made good progress these past few weeks, but today isn't about practice. I want you to fight me. As if your life depended on it."

I had been making my way to the weapon rack, but I paused when Walter said that. The hesitation was only slight.

Every day of every year, we practiced. The blows we landed were not rough. They hardly hurt, and they never made us bleed. Walter was careful, and so was I. In a way, I hated it. I hated restraining myself. Now that I had the chance to fight for real, I would not back out. I would not be weak.

I took the sword, sliding my fingers on the cool steel. The handle fit into my hand perfectly, like a dream. Walter unsheathed his sword, and I nodded, ready.

"Fight!" Walter said, swinging his sword.

Clang! the swords cried as steel met steel. I almost stumbled, but just barely managed to hold my ground. I knew then that Walter meant business, so I charged.

He blocked my first blow. "Again!" he commanded. I did as he said, and this time I landed a blow. "Good, good."

We continued fighting for a few minutes. The sunlight filtered in through the thick-paned windows. The clang, clang, clanging was the only sound, outside of the muffled voices outside the closed door of the combat room.

One of Walter's hits sent me stumbling back into a table. The bust that was sitting on it fell off and landed on the floor with a crash. I didn't notice, though, because I had rolled out of the way of Walter's sword.

"Do you remember the stories I'd tell you when you were a child? Of your father, the great Hero King?" Walter asked as he recoiled from one of my blocks.

I nodded. Of course I did. I'd beg, tugging at his shirt and giving him puppy eyes until he agreed to tell me a story about my father. I'd climb up beside him as he sat down and he'd tell me amazing stories that I could hardly believe. And they weren't just fairytales. They were real, and that was the best part.

"You'd never get tired of hearing those stories," Walter continued. I ducked a swing. "And after each one, do you remember what you would say?"

"Teach me how to be a Hero," I said, voice a mix of humour and determination.

"Ha. Every single time. I wish that was something an old soldier like me could teach you. But I've done my best. Now I need you to do your best." A suit of armour fell to the floor, a victim of the swing that had missed Walter. "Strike me! It's time you showed me what you've got."

Narrowing my eyes, I planned quickly. My hair hung down in my face, but I could see Walter through the wispy brown strands. I pulled my sword over my head and swung at Walter. He lifted his sword to block.

CLANG! Hunched over and panting heavily, I looked up at Walter. He was staring at his sword.

"Ha ha! You only went and broke it!" I stared at what was left of Walter's sword, dumbfounded. I had sliced the blade clean off. Only the hilt and a bit of metal was left.

"Am I a great teacher or what?" Walter asked. Under his thick grey beard, he was beaming. His dark eyes sparkled.

I felt warm inside. I had made him proud, and that was all that I had wanted, all that I strove for. The feel of his large, warm hand on my shoulder, the lit-up look in his eyes, or just the simple words, 'You've done me proud.'

That had been so long ago. No, not so long ago. Only a year ago. I was just a child then, just a little girl. But now I was grown, and I was Queen.

And now Walter was gone. The Crawler had possessed him. His eyes were dark hollows, and his skin was a sickly grey. Darkness radiated off him and distorted the air. I had my sword in my hands, ready to fight, but I could not move, not even when he began to advance towards me.

I could not run. I was in a dead end, and a forcefield kept me from leaving the way I came. Ben was pressed up against it, watching helplessly as I did nothing. And I would not fight, either. I did not, could not, hurt Walter.

"Take it out of me! Please!" Walter cried. His voice was weak and hoarse. I shuddered at the sound, but I still could not move. I did not want to accept that this was happening. Ben had said he thought it was a nightmare. Maybe it was. I could not tell fantasy from reality, past from present, anymore. Visions flashed before my eyes, blocking out the monster that stood before me.

The enemy ship had slid so swiftly across the water. We were far away from Bowerstone, so we thought we were safe. How wrong we were.

I can't remember what happened. All I remember is waking up in a flash of white light. The sun was dropping down into the water.

I heard yelling. "Ben! Be-en!" There was Walter, walking down the beach. Beside him were the broken remnants of our ship.

I could not suppress a groan. My head was pounding. Hearing panting beside me, I managed to turn my head and saw the anxious face of my dog. He whined and barked, lapping at my face with a warm tongue.

"Are you alright?" I heard Walter ask.

No... he can't see me now... I'm too weak... I thought. "Yes," I said. I raised myself into a sitting position, brushed sand off my face, and walked forward. "Ben's not here?"

"No. Looks like we didn't all make it," Walter said, voice holding a tone of regret. The setting sun cast a shadow on half of him and made him look... almost frightening. "I only hope... Well, maybe he washed up somewhere else. I'm sure that's it." His voice held a tone that said he clearly believed that wasn't the case.

Walter began to walk forward. I followed. I was so tired, and my head was still spinning. I thought I would fall over.

"Anyway, the only way forward seems to be through a rather ominous cave," Walter said. I glanced up and was surprised to see a large cave entrance. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and a large pool of water was near the entrance. It was... kind of dark. But I remembered that there was nothing to be afraid of and felt a little better.

"Before we go any further, I'd just like to say one thing," Walter said. He paused. "BAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLS!" His voice echoed several times.

I couldn't hold back the laughter. The world rocked and I found myself sitting in the sand, but I kept laughing. Walter always knew how to brighten the mood when things looked bleak.

I received a jolt back into reality when Walter swung at me with his sword. The blade cut through my clothes and into the skin, leaving behind searing pain. Blood began to trickle out of the wound, staining my clothes red.

"You can beat it! You have to!" Walter said, in the same hoarse voice as before. But then he said, in his normal voice, "I am shadow... and death!"

Holding back tears, I squeezed the hilt of the sword until my fingers were white. Taking in one shaky breath after another, I rushed forward. My sword swung through the air, and when I recovered, there was a huge gash in Walter's side and a pool of crimson had gathered on the pavement.

I nearly dropped the sword, realizing what I had done. My hands quivered violently and I bit my lip so hard that it began to bleed. Just like Walter.

Walter hissed, an unnatural, evil sound that chilled me to the bone. "Tainted! Tainted, broken little toys!" he growled, before thrusting his sword into the concrete as if it were sand. The very sand that blanketed parts of Bowerstone now.

Force waves radiated out of the sword. I was not fast enough to jump. They hit me, knocking me off my feet. I hit the wall and nearly severed my ties to sight. My vision flickered black and red and black again.

Barely clinging to consciousness as I lay slumped against the wall, I reached for my pistol. I managed to pull it out and aimed for the approaching Walter. It was not easy. Everything about me was quivering. My hand quivered so I could not hold the gun steady, my jaw quivered until I had to clench it, and the one leg that supported me quivered so that it threatened to collapse.

The first shot whistled by Walter's head. The next four hit their mark in his shoulder. Other than stumbling, though, Walter didn't seem to be affected. "I have killed so many of you already. Why fight me any longer?" he asked.

I dropped the gun. It clattered on the pavement. "For you, Walter," I said shakily, climbing to my feet and unsheathing my sword. My strength had suddenly returned. My morale was up. I can do this! I thought.

"How sweet," Walter hissed.

The battle raged on for a few more minutes, minutes that drug on like hours. Walter had the upper hand in the fight, but I was slowly defeating him. Every slash of my sword brought me closer to victory. I was nearly there...

"Look what you've done to me!" Walter cried. Again he plunged his sword into the ground.

We are the darkness, unknown voices hissed, invading my mind with their cold grip.

"You have done terrible things. Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you think I would allow it?" Walter inquired in a dark voice as thick, black, oozing liquid pooled out from my feet. I tried to move, but I found I couldn't. I was stuck, stuck in that awful liquid.

Pain began to course through my body. I screamed as a beam of darkness radiated from the puddle, blasting up into the air, through me, out of me. My vision began to get darker, as did my hope.

And then, suddenly, it was light again. I managed to cast a spell in my state. The Blades spell. I watched as the blades struck Walter and the ooze disappeared. I panted and backed away. My sword had been dropped. My only defense now was magic... magic I was took weak to cast.

"I only want to care for you," Walter crooned, edging closer to me. "Am I not your father figure?"

My reality began to fade again when he said that. My shattered mind took me back to the day, so many, many years ago.

My room was dark. A sliver of moon was just outside my window. A candle was the main source of light, and its feeble flame danced on the wick.

I lay in my bed, dressed in a nightgown. Beside me was a tiny, black-and-white puppy. He snuggled against me, under the covers that I bunched in my hands. I had gotten him for my birthday, and I just adored him. He always seemed to know when I was in distress, and was never too busy to play fetch or give my face a wash.

The door to my room opened slowly, and a few moments later Walter was standing beside my bed.

"Walter, please tell me a story!" I begged, before he could even speak. "About father."

"Don't you think it's a little late for a story?" Walter asked, eyes twinkling.

"No!" I cried. "Please don't tease me, Walter." I reached out a small hand. Walter took it and sat down on the edge of the bed. I crawled up beside him and leaned on him. He draped his arm around my small frame. I always felt so safe around him.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you about the time your father defeated Lucien. Now, your father had just acquired the music box..." The story I knew so well went on and on until I could hardly keep my eyes open.

"...And he had three choices. Sacrifice, Love, or Wealth. He could sacrifice his own family to resurrect all of those who had been unjustly killed in the rebuilding of the Spire, resurrect those he loved that had been killed, or get more money than anybody had ever had before. Do you know what he chose?" Walter asked.

"Sacrifice," I mumbled sleepily.

"Exactly. The people were alive, but at the cost of his family and even his dog. It was a hard choice for him to make, but he did the right thing."

"He should have chosen Love," I said, suddenly awake. "If I had to make the choice..."

"Maybe someday you will," Walter said solemnly. "Sometimes, when given a choice, we must make a sacrifice. Even if that means costing you the ones you love."

"Walter," I pleaded. "Teach me to be a Hero." I said it every time, and I always got the same answer.

"I wish that was something an old soldier like me could teach you. Now. Off to bed!"

I furrowed my brow, but sighed and climbed back under the covers. I reached over and petted my dog. He did not stir, and I could feel his breath under my hand.

"Goodnight, Walter," I said, yawning.

"Goodnight," Walter said. He blew out the candle and headed for the open door. It clicked softly when he shut it, and the room was as silent as an undisturbed pool of water.

I didn't think it until that moment. "I love you," I whispered. I knew he couldn't hear me, but I hoped that somehow he would know.

My vision was restored to me. There was Walter again, with his black eyes, coming closer and closer.

I knew then, at that very moment, what I had to do. If I didn't kill Walter now, if I gave in to death, the Crawler would destroy everything. I had to make a choice. Love... or Sacrifice?

I took in a shaky breath. Walter raised his sword, thinking he had me, but he was wrong. With a flourish, I swung my sword up. Walter lost his footing as the blade collided with him and went flying.

The darkness dissipated from around him as he flew through the air. His sickly grey skin turned back to its normal colour and his eyes turned their normal brown again. But when he landed on the ground, he did not move.

It began to rain. There was a boom of thunder and a strike of lightning illuminated us for a moment. I slid on the pavement as I ran over to Walter, staring at his unmoving frame. I dropped to my knees.

I lifted him up, one hand on his back and one on his chest. I felt a pulse, but a weak one at that. Walter began to breathe, but the breaths were ragged and he shuddered with each one.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. They flowed unhindered down my face, splashing onto Walter's blood-soaked shirt. My dog, who had been blocked out with Ben, took a few cautious steps towards me. He whimpered softly before dropping onto the ground like a limp rag. I didn't notice him at all.

"I'm sorry," I said to Walter, trying to contain my sobs.

Walter coughed. "You took away the darkness. It's been inside me all this time, but it's light now. I can see the sky and it's light." He coughed again. "I don't think I can fight anymore." He sounded so weak, yet so confident...

"It's all over, Walter. We won. We beat it together," I said, protesting what I knew was coming.

"Do you remember the stories I'd tell you when you were a child?" Walter asked eagerly, eyes lighting up. "There was a great King once, the mightiest Hero of them all. Do you remember what you would say?"

More tears came. "Teach me... to be a Hero," I said shakily.

"You've done me proud," Walter said, taking my hand. "You've always done me proud..." He smiled as the light left his eyes. And then, with one last, tired exhale, his head drooped against my arm. His fingers relaxed and he was still.

"Walter..." I whimpered. "No... no, Walter, we're going to get through this, we're going to get through this together. You can't leave me now."

Tears poured down my face like the rain that poured from the sky. Each sobbing gasp of breath was harder to take than the last. I felt Ben's hand on my shoulder as he crouched down beside me, his blond hair matted with rain and blood, but his gesture was little comfort to the anguish I felt.

Sabin, Kalin, and Page were there. They stepped forward slowly, but they did not speak, only bowed their heads. I saw a tear trickle down Page's face and drop onto the pavement. It was lost with the small streams of rainwater.

There is nothing left for Walter to teach. I failed him. Even after everything he did for me, everything we've been through, I allowed him to die. I could not save him.

Some heroes are born. Some heroes are made. Some heroes are chosen.

Some Hero I am.