A snapshot into Ben Finn's mind in Aurora after rescuing the hero. Written out of agitation at the total lack of any decent love interests in Fable III.
We found her fighting her away across the desert, blinded and raving. It took four of us to restrain her, but she finally stopped struggling and meekly let me lift her. I carried her back to the city amazed that she had survived at all.
She awoke later that night, wildly calling out for Walter. They had found him by then, unconscious and stained by darkness, but alive. I don't know what they encountered in the vast deserts, but when she thought I had left the room, she collapsed to her knees, sobbing. I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain, finally leaving silently to avoid alerting her to my presence and cursing myself for my cowardice. But she was a princess, and I just a soldier. What comfort could I give her? Still, I worried.
Ever since she had arrived at our camp with Walter, trailing behind him and glancing around curiously, she had my attention. First because I couldn't believe Walter had brought a woman to the battlefield — a thin one at that, dressed in fine clothing — then because she cut down half the army of hollow men by herself. She wielded fire like a god. She was a hero, and she won my undying loyalty that night.
When we met again in the sewers, she was the same but so different. Fiercer, stronger. Her expression was one of quiet contemplation, her eyes trailing me as I paced. It made me nervous, and I rambled to Page like an idiot. Maybe if I pretended she wasn't in the room, I'd stop being so anxious.
We fought our way to the docks together. She carved her way through the ranks of men, wielding her sword with a wicked wrath like I had never seen, and by the time we stepped onto the deck of the ship meant to carry us away from Albion, I was wholly and utterly in love with her.
I will follow her to war, to victory, and beyond. Protect her, guard her, serve her with my life. My hero. My Queen.