Shlup

My husband is dead.

I stood on our doorstep and called out his name, but the children said he had gone for a walk around the lake. He wouldn't be hard to find, always taking the same path, and it wasn't long before I did find him.

I ran towards him, excited to let him know. I wanted to tell him that we won the battle, that the revolution was over, to pack his things so we could move into the castle. He saw me, but then I saw them.

I didn't have a chance to warn him, or to pull my gun. Balverines are fast, and my husband was never a fighter. He fell in an instant, and then they turned to me.

I had killed dozens of balverines--I never run from a fight--but I was blinded and couldn't breathe, so I turned and fled. I couldn't even recover his body; I just ran towards the house, crashing through the door, searching desperately for the children.

He was my first love. Years ago we had fled the castle separately, thinking each other dead, but had found each other against all odds, and raised two inexplicably black children during a revolution. I thought we were joined by fate, but he never got to hear that we had won, I never got to tell him that I was the queen he always told me I could be. My king, unceremoniously felled by balverines in the dark.

Fable III is a smurfing mean game.