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Published:
2019-01-09
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The Aftermath

Summary:

“It is decided then.” Sir Walter abruptly declared, startling the stunned crowd. “Former King Logan has been spared, and will be set to work towards the war efforts.” I rose to my feet and made my way to the door, past Logan. A brief heavy look was shared between us before I turned away and continued down the aisle to where two soldiers had opened the doors for me. “The judging has been concluded.” The doors were shut behind me, blocking out the explosive cacophony of sound that resounded out from behind them.

I wasn’t cut out for this.

OR Logan is judged for his crimes and the Hero reevaluates their choices.

Notes:

This story is just my take on what could've happened with a morally good hero and the tough decisions they have to make during the second half of the game, which I utterly failed at and ended up brutally bankrupting Albion and plunging it into a lifetime of debt, so that was fun.

All mistakes are my own and I take no credit for the characters, who belong to Lionhead Studios.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The throne was chilly and uncomfortable and I couldn’t sit still. Shuffling around, I could feel myself frown as the royal armour dug into my shoulders, gilded metal resting heavily against them. My ragtag bunch of revolutionaries who had joined me in overthrowing the King were surrounding me, whispering in my ear about the best way to make sure Logan got what he deserved.

Logan. The disgraced tyrant who had driven the Kingdom of Albion into poverty and ruin, allowing famine and crime to run rampant throughout.

The same Logan who read me stories about Heroes and their adventures, who would never turn me away when I came to him for sanctuary after a particularly bad night terror, who tucked me close against his side and clung tightly to me when his coronation was announced after the unfortunate deaths of the King and Queen.

I was struggling to connect Logan the oppressive bastard who had had Elise executed just to prove a point with Logan, my kind and caring older brother.

Having lost focus for a second, the sound of his voice was enough to shock me out of my emotional turmoil enough to be able to listen as he explained about how the dark presence in Aurora was coming to Albion. Something then just clicked into place. A question I hadn’t realised just how desperately I needed an answer to finally resolved: why. Logan wasn’t always a malicious dictator, and just accepting that he did those horrible things because he was simply a bad person hadn’t sat well with me. But he had had a genuine reason all along? Everything was finally starting to make sense.

However everyone was still waiting upon me to make a decision, and despite Ben wanting vengeance for Major Swift’s execution and Kalin and Sabine demanding justice for the crimes against their people, there was a voice in my head that told me that killing Logan wouldn’t achieve anything other than just causing another death. I’m just glad that although Page had argued against my brother, she too just wanted all this pointless suffering to end. At least then I’ll have one person who won’t detest me for my choice.

Logan would be of more use to the kingdom alive than just another body to add to the ever-growing count after all. Maybe he could even start along the path to redemption, and earn back some of the respect and trust he had betrayed.

Decision made, I held up my hand and the hall grew silent, the tension creating an uncomfortable atmosphere as the news of the approaching danger had caused fear to spread like wildfire through the people.

They stared at me intently, and suddenly I felt the weight of my role crush down upon me. These people relied upon me to keep them safe and to make the correct decisions about their lives. As their Crown Ruler, what I say will go without question, only judged in silence behind closed doors until it's too late and I’m busy putting down revolutions while the darkness encroaches from the West. It’s too much pressure to place entirely upon the shoulders of a young, inexperienced leader such as myself.

I just hope that I can rise to the occasion and do right by the people under me, even if to protect them I have to go against my morals and beliefs.

“Logan will live and put all his efforts into protecting Albion. He will serve the crown and it’s people to the best of his abilities but will be monitored and watched by someone of my choosing. After the threat has been dealt with, I will review this case again and further actions will be taken if they’re found to be needed.”

After a moments silence as what I had said finally sunk in, there was understandably an uproar of protests as people demanded Logan’s head for what he had put them through, no matter how noble his intentions might’ve been. I let them get their feelings out for a minute more before once more raising my hand for silence, once more stunned by the power I wielded when the noise instantly petered out until the throne room was quiet once more.

Raising my voice, I addressed my people. “I understand your objections and concern about my decision, and I hear you. But executing Logan will just add to the violence, not end it. However I guarantee that if Logan does not prove himself worthy of this mercy I have granted him, I will give you, the people, the choice of what to do with him.” I looked around the hall and caught my brother’s gaze, he was staring at me with an expression of bewilderment; eyes wide and mouth agape. “Hard times are ahead of us, and we must prepare as much as we can. I promise you that I will do right by you, no matter what I must do to guarantee the prosperous future of Albion.”

No-one spoke a word. The whole room had seemingly taken a collective breath, leaving a silence quiet enough a sneeze would’ve resounded around like an earthquake.

“It is decided then.” Sir Walter abruptly declared, startling a handful of people stood at the front. “Former King Logan has been spared, and will be set to work towards the war efforts.” Turning towards me with a meaningful glance towards the door had me rising to my feet and walking past Logan, a brief heavy look shared between us before I moved past him, making my way down the aisle to where two soldiers had opened the doors for me. “The judging has been concluded.”

The door shut behind me, blocking out the explosive cacophony of sound that resounded out from behind them. Keeping my head held high and back almost painfully straight I proudly made my way back to the privacy of my personal chambers where safely behind closed doors I let the act drop and slumped to the floor, crown clunking against the door when I let my head fall backwards.

I wasn’t cut out for this. There was a reason other than being the youngest as to why Logan was crowned instead of me: I simply wasn’t made for this lifestyle. These past few months of running around the kingdom with my mother’s old hammer and rifle resting against my back, doing quests and socialising with the people, gathering together an army to achieve an idealistic dream of becoming a Ruler that the people could depend upon; have been the best months of my life and made me feel more comfortable in my skin. Happier with who I was and what I was meant to be. I felt more at ease traipsing around dark caverns with danger lurking around every corner then I ever could in these fancy clothes, forever guarded by soldiers in an ivory tower keeping enemies out and me in.

With my first act as Ruler of Albion weighing heavily upon my mind, every detail of the whole nightmare scenario running through my head as I tried to think about how I could’ve done better, what I could’ve done differently.

Gently removing the crown from my head, I held it in front of me and stared at it as if it would produce an answer to my dilemma. My gaze traced slowly over the golden engravings and familiar shape of the guild seals until my vision blurred and a lump in my throat caused my breathing to hitch, but it was only when a tear drop splashed onto the polished surface of the crown and the wetness on my cheeks finally registered did I realise I was crying.

A clattering sound resounded around the room as the crown slipped from my grasp and tumbled to the tiled floor. I brought my legs up to my chest, wrapped my arms tightly around them, buried my face into my knees and sobbed.

Why Theresa thought I could do anything was beyond me. The blind seer must’ve made a mistake, had a momentary lapse in judgement or common sense or something that would explain how I was chosen to lead a kingdom I have no business in leading. God I needed to get out of here. But I couldn’t leave the castle without someone noticing me and while the sanctuary would’ve been my first bet, I couldn’t face Jasper right now, or those god forsaken paper promises pinned to the walls that I have no idea of how to keep without bankrupting the castle’s supplies and leaving us completely defenceless for when the darkness comes.

No-one warned me how hard this was going to be, never mentioned the crushing pressure that would snap your spine clean in half if you bend even an inch under its strain. Will I just be another tyrant like my brother? Destroying the kingdom in a desperate attempt at saving it? I honestly didn’t know. And that terrified me more than anything else possibly could.

Sat on the floor of my chambers, a chill settling in my bones and struggling to hide the cries from the guards no doubt stationed directly outside the doors, I felt more alone than ever.

Notes:

Any comments or criticism is welcome, many thanks for reading to the end and I hope you enjoyed it!