She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 14

It was over a week before Ben believed that I was well enough to be back on the battlefield again. The expedition, originally supposed to be only the two of us, expanded to also include Page. I would have protested louder, but I felt a strange desire - closer to obligation - to test Walter's theory and an opportunity to 'accidentally' shoot my least favourite non-threatening person in Albion was far too tempting to pass up.

Unsurprisingly, it transpired to be much easier to defeat a Banshee with three people. Not that Ben gloated at all.

"Told you!" He shouted, far more euphoric over the victory than he should have been, "didn't I tell her, Page? I definitely told you. Remember all of those times you told me I was bad at tactics, huh? You said all of my plans were rubbish but look at this one!" He gestured to the foeless ground - the Banshee, as spiritual manifestations of your insecurities often don't, didn't leave a corpse, and so, there was nothing to fashion into a trophy. There actually wasn't much of anything in the path we had chosen, the season damning us to a warm red and orange colour scheme that contrasted with my choice of a deep purple outfit; the trees that walled both sides of the trail seemingly barricaded us within the limits. "Another flawless plan masterminded by the one and only Benjamin Finn - hold your applause, ladies, please."

"All you said was that more than one person is needed to kill a banshee," Page sighed, her brow almost furrowing into a straight line, rolling her eyes, ignorant to the fact that I was scrutinising her every move, "it doesn't take a genius. Even the thickest of my men could have told you that."

"Whatever," he muttered, his spirit refusing to be dampened as he fell into step next to me, lowering his voice slightly to taunt me, "I totally told you, Rose."

"Shut up, Ben," I replied, grinning. "Hey, Page, do you have any idea where we're headed, or are you happy to lead us anywhere your feet take us?" She stopped, dead, turning on her heel to face me. "Not that I'm complaining. We might as well make a day of it."

"I'm sorry, your majesty," her apology was an undisguised forgery; her expression was thunderous, coupled with daggers from her eyes. "Perhaps it's best if we handle this alone, you know, since you aren't so hot from your last battle."

"I appreciate your concern but I think I'm still more competent than any rouge at leading an operation," I countered, an equally fake sweet smile, with a step towards her. "This isn't exactly the kind of situation that one can enact the same way one would break into a factory. Petty thievery isn't exactly experience enough for an actual fight."

"You weren't saying that when I saved your life in Reaver's manor," she hissed, further bridging the gap between us, her skirts ruffling with her fairly-like steps. "Seems your humour isn't the only thing that endangers your life, but your -"

"I hate to break up this heart-warming moment," Ben interjected, stepping between the two of us, his hand a barrier attempting to hold back our hostility, "but we really should, uh, decide where to go, or what to do, or something," I didn't break eye contact with Page, the shared anger electrifying the air around us. "Seriously, don't we have something to be doing here?"

"Maybe Page should head back to the village and inquire about the arranged marriage business for me," I applied a layer of faux-authority in my voice. "I sense she has a talent for manipulating men into getting what she wants from them." Her glare, coupled with an abrupt silence told me that I had taken a step too far. Before I could retract my statement, however, she held her hands up in defeat.

"Whatever you need, my queen," she replied courteously, bowing her head slightly and pulling her feet together. I shot her a questioning look, but her gaze was on the floor, the tip of her right shoe tracing shapes in the dust.