Vanity Fair

Rating: M (warning: eventual pedophilia and some slight sexual content)
Description: Queen Sparrow's reign was not without battles. This is the story of her life from her rise to power until her untimely death, her ever-wavering love for her husband, Garth, and her many emotional struggles along the way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Fable apart from my copies of the first, second and third games, and my many Chicken Chasers, Sparrows, Princesses and Princes. Trust me, if I did, Garth, Reaver and Ben Finn would be romancible!

Act I Part I
A Hero Is Born

A girl.

Sparrow had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl. As she looked down at her daughter, she could feel nothing but love toward the little darling. She squirmed for a couple seconds, finally settling in her mother's arms, calmed by Sparrow's soothing stroking of her the soft, light caramel skin of her face. She couldn't help the tears that came now. She whispered a single thing, ever-so quietly, "Rose." Her name was given.

She suddenly felt the wave of exhaustion washing over her, after those many hours of labour. Her eyes fluttered, the weight lifted from her as someone took the baby from her arms, and Garth sat down next her on her bed. She remained, however, conscious, watching through half-closed eyes as her husband delicately held his daughter in his arms. He remained so calm, collected, as if he felt not even half of the emotion Sparrow did, but she knew better than to feel foolish about loving someone.

"Rose," he muttered plainly, no hint of emotion. Then a tear rolled down his cheek, something that surprised his wife immensely. His face remained unchanged, though when he spoke, his voice shook ever-so slightly. "Hello, I suppose... I'm your father."

Perhaps it was just sheer shock that she even existed that made Garth cry for the first time in Avo knows how long. Sparrow had been praying every night since they had been married for a child. Of course, he was a little older, and they had trouble conceiving. It nearly tore the poor woman apart, which made him feel guilty for being so selfish. He promised himself they day they made their escape from the spire together he wouldn't let himself feel anything more for the girl.

Of course, he always found himself drawn to her. Even in her spire guard uniform, there had been something appealing about her. It must have been the way she literally glowed. Her soft, pale skin had this certain way of catching in the light perfectly. With such a beautiful face – features so soft, eyes that sparkled in the light, hair that fell so perfectly around even a sweat-drenched face – she could have had her pick of the men.

She had picked him.

"Are you alright?" Sparrow asked softly, drawing him from his thought. She tilted her head to one side, confusion and worry mixing together and leaving her with a sort of childish innocence twinkling in her eyes. She struggled to sit up, but she managed to reach him, her lips brushing over his cheek gently, still fighting off sleep.

"Fine," he replied firmly, standing back up. He placed a snuggly wrapped Rose in her crib, lingering over her for a minute or two. He stared at her long and hard, still amazed at how easily and peacefully she slept. She was just so... wonderful. He leaned over and kissed the baby's forehead gently before heading back towards the bed.

With the doctor and a couple visiting friends finally having been cleared from the house, Sparrow finally gave into sleep. Garth watched her for a while, settling in a chair. He thought about his family. He thought about his daughter that could not yet open her eyes, and what she would see when she did. The world still had such great imperfections. It was no place for such a sweet little girl.

He made up his mind. He stood up and made for his study.

Having gathered what little belongings he needed, he headed back upstairs. After kissing Rose once more, he slowly approached the sleeping Sparrow. He knelt over her to brush the hair from her face. He kissed her newly exposed cheek. Sparrow was startled however.

Her eyes flickered open. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"Just to get some cheese. We're out."

She meant to protest, knowing deep down that no stall venders in their right mind would be selling their wares at this time of night, but she was simply to tired. He got up and slowly made his way downstairs.

Sparrow slept like no other night she could remember. Maybe it was because she had never felt so tired in her life, or because she had never felt so safe. Tucked away from the bustling world in their cute little farm in Brightwood that she had bought from her old friend, farmer Giles, not too far from Garth's Tower, she felt no worries. She loved it there, knowing the Tower was a short walk away, and would serve as a fantastic shelter in case of emergency, and few people with the courage to take her on in battle would stumble upon it. And of course, she always felt safe sleeping next to Garth.

"Garth." She sat up abruptly in bed, only just realizing his absence. How long had he been gone? It was midnight, and he hadn't returned. When had he left? She didn't even know. Of course she couldn't have bothered to check the time when he had left. The one time she forgot, it really mattered. Every time he left, she counted the minutes, until she knew he should have been back. He always showed just in time.

She couldn't help but feel worried. She was just about to hop out of bed and rush out to look for him when the realization brought on by the cry of baby Rose hit her like a rock full on in the temple. It was a sharp pain that quickly drew tears. Of course, it was the sudden migraine, not the metaphorical rock that left her in unbearable pain.

Rose had crying for a while, something Sparrow managed to gather from her level of distress. Her face was read like a tomato, her blanket tossed aside by her persistent fussing. Her abnormal strength gave her mother pride. The baby was sure to make a great hero, not that she would allow her daughter to pursue such a dangerous career...

The tiny baby cradled in her arms, Sparrow went back over to her own bed, ready for the great plight set before her. She first checked the cloth diaper to find the first task. She was sure a good meal would be next, the liberating of gasses... Yes, all tasks absolutely terrified her: especially the part about not being able to search for Garth.

Baby calmed and already half asleep, Sparrow scavenged the cupboards. She was starving, and thought she deserved a reward for taking care of herself and the newborn. She found it ridiculous Garth had left them alone, unfair, even. Unsafe? Probably. But she didn't care to think about him at the moment. No, her stomach ached to be filled, and her heart ached to bring him home.

"I will kill him next time I see him," she mumbled through the half a wheel of... cheese she had shoved into her mouth. She thought about what she held in her right hand once more. "Twice."

Having devoured every last bit of food in the house, Sparrow flopped down on the bed. She lay face down, breathing heavily into the thick, fur blankets, thinking about methods of torture to inflict upon her husband upon his return. Why he did this to her was as horribly unclear as a mud puddle. All she ever gave him was love. All she wanted back was for him to take the occasional precaution, maybe warn her if he planned to stay out extra late, or even the odd 'I love you' might be nice. But, no! Garth was that annoying lone wolf type through and through – strong and stoic; 24/7.

No matter how hard Sparrow tried, she could never melt him enough to reach that rich, gooey, chocolatey centre she once believed was there, and has never ceased to dampen her spirits. At first, having been without a lover for so long before they met, she thought it only natural he hardly even spoke to her half the time, rarely kissed back, and often refused to touch her the way she so desperately needed him to. But during the two years they spent apart after he had walked out telling her he simply did not love her, she was taught better by an old friend of hers.

Funny to think that even a cruel, egotistical megalomaniac like Reaver knows how loves should go. Not just the physical – to doubt his knowledge of that was simply pure idiocy – but he somehow managed to have a firm grasp on the emotional stuff. Maybe it was that girl he wrote about in his diary... Whatever the case, he knew his stuff, and Sparrow was eternally thankful for it, and it was after that she had confronted Garth, doing so believing she would earn his respect, and therefore his heart. It was after that he had softened up slightly.

Sparrow fell asleep without knowing it, on top of the covers and everything. The sight both amused Garth thoroughly, and brought a sudden pang of guilt – enough to surface a momentary smile, and bring a tear or two his eyes – when he arrived, just as the morning sun began to filter through the curtains. He fell on the bed beside his wife, taking care not to wake her as he removed the covers out from under her and threw them over her.

He pulled at the bandage wrapped around a great length of his left arm, wincing in pain. The knowledge it would heal abnormally fast comforted him enough to let it be, but the thought of the deep purple bruise than ran along his entire forearm lingered in his mind. He knew Sparrow would enquire about it when she woke, which made him slightly anxious for morning, but not so much so not to sleep.

He had already planned out what he would say: the usual lies and complete utter bullshit he continued to shove down her throat. The lies hurt him more than they hurt her, and they served a purpose. Garth knew his days were coming to an end way before hers, and he didn't think it would be fair to leave her unable to go on. He thought it was selfish to even encourage her love for him by playing along for this long, but he had managed to keep his emotional wall in tact all this time still.

The thought that perhaps never having claimed his heart fully would eternally torment Sparrow after his departure from this world, or even the thought her husband didn't care for her was slowly driving her mad had plagued his mind once or twice before, but he knew better. Sparrow was stronger than that...right? Physically strong indeed. Emotionally... Of course. She always seemed so strong, even after saving Albion and being left without a family she remained strong.

Then again, considering how much she loved her sister, and how much unconditional love her sister had shown her, perhaps... No, Garth had made up his mind.

He would shed no tears for her. No tears. None.

Sparrow's eyes met his. Surely it was a dream. Garth would never cry. Ever. And she refused to cry in front of him.

Garth kissed a tear from the young hero's cheek, brushing the hair from her face and pulling her closer. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, enjoying her scent, hiding his own tears in the thick brown waves. Sparrow in turn kissed every bit of him she could, taking advantage of his sudden change of heart. She knew moments like this were rare, and she wasn't about to waste being able to feel close to him. And when he finally untangled himself from her hair, he immediately claimed her lips for his own.

Sparrow pulled back, her feeling of betrayal slowly coming back to her. "Where the hell have you been?" She paused between each word, finding it difficult to focus on her anger as Garth's hungry lips ravished her body.

He stopped and his eyes met hers again, enjoying having her simply melt into his arms. "I...got you something." He looked off. "It wasn't easy, and it took za lot of hard negotiation and then some..."

Sparrow could see something strange in his eyes. Something she had never seen before within him, and she panicked for a moment until she realized – But, no... it couldn't be... pride? "What?"

"Albion."