She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 2

Unleashing a final burst of Shock from my fingertips, I witnessed the penultimate mercenary fall, dead, to the hard concrete floor of the Hideout and sighed. No doubt there was a big, tall, muscly gang leader just behind the door in front of me. There's nothing more annoying than a gang that leaves their most powerful member until last. Surely, it would be more efficient to put him out first, kill me and have it done with, saving the lives and manpower? Not that a simple mercenary could even slightly damage me these days, I'd seen much worse since I took my first human life.

Or, maybe, from what Page told me, it could be someone else. Someone close to me. The only logical answer seemed to be Logan. After I had spared my brother, and sent him to work rebuilding Bowerstone Old Quarter, I hadn't heard anything from him. But what would I even do if it was him? I couldn't kill him, not my brother, not like this, not after everything. Maybe it was the darkness, possessing him, still, after all this time. I was unsure whether I could handle another fight against the Crawler, or if I could deal with the death of another loved one. I took a moment to steady myself, berating myself silently. I was Queen of Albion - I could handle anything, I had to deal with everything.

Not really seeing much point in delaying any longer, I lifted my leg to kick down the double door. In my experience, angry mercenary gangs aren't really the types to leave doors unlocked to make things easier. Unfortunate, really, I could use that advantage most days. I unsheathed my sword in preparation.

"Ben?" I recognised him instantly, although it had been a few years since I had seen the former captain. His once roguishly long hair was a little too long for it to be characteristic and without his army uniform, he seemed somewhat more of a vagabond. But it was him, for sure. He hadn't thrown away his talents after all. Despite the surprise and relative disappointment, I felt my body heave a sigh of relief. It could have been worse. "Benjamin Finn, is that really you?"

"Y-Your majesty?" He faltered, halfway between lowering his weapon to greet me and pretending not to know me. His stance was one of defence, at least. "I do not go by that name." Ben glanced around him, feverishly, the fearless air he used to adopt nowhere to be seen. "I am Nelson. And I guess I have to kill you."

"Ben, what happened?" Since I knew there would be no fight, I put my sword away and expected him to holster his rifle. I stepped forward, inquiring, and he took an equal step back. "You're not going to shoot me. This isn't you. What happened to you?" He didn't reply, remaining static, his breathing hitched. "Ben?" A loud crack interrupted our altercation.

"I never had you as a royalist, Nel!" I couldn't even look up. My gaze stayed firmly on Ben's, utterly confused by the whole scene I was participating in. "Kill 'er!" The look in his eyes turned from fear to pity. He actually believed he was going to kill me. I always knew he wasn't the brightest, but I had no idea he was that stupid. Without so much of a glance, and only a slight flick of my wrist, a channelled Shock relieved the disembodied voice of his life. Ben's complexion flushed white.

"What are you even doing? You were a hero..." I paused to laugh at my choice of noun, he didn't join me. "Not the same kind of Hero as me, of course, but Albion knew you as their own. In the name of the Gods, why would you have to hang out here?" He dropped his gaze, shuffled backwards, his rifle still aimed directly at me. I wasn't fearful, but I knew him as good enough a marksman to do some damage. "Fire that thing, Benjamin, and we will be having real problems. Am I going to have to leave a most nostalgic end to my trail of bodies today or are you going to start talking?"

"Your majesty..." He sighed, slipping his rifle back into its holster. I smiled at him, nodding, feeling the sense of normalcy return to his eyes. "It's not easy to explain." Sheepishly - a word no-one in the kingdom had ever used to describe the charming and devilish captain before - he sent me a weak smile back. The tense air between us eased slightly, seemingly allowing for a reunion-type scene to unfold.

"Surely it's got to be easier than killing the monarch? What would Walter have said?" I cocked my head, aware of the patronising tone and condescending attitude I was portraying. "Have you got any other hidden buddies ready to pounce? I don't fancy my chances at another trick shot." Ben didn't reply, staring at me, dead-eyed.

In a life-or-death, fight-or-flight situation, the soldiers and guards of Albion are trained relentlessly to live, and fight. So, it's easy to understand my surprise when, as soon as the inevitable and predictable ambush transpired in the cramped, makeshift camp in the old dungeon in Bowerstone Market, my old friend, companion and trustworthy advisory, Ben Finn, dodged stealthily out of the back door. As I faced the onslaught of mercenaries, alone, I had just one thought: what in the name of Avo had happened to him?