She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 16

His hair was golden, something very close to spun gold, rich and colourful. I wondered if, at any point in his life, any other girl had appreciated it like I did. Selfishly, I hoped not, I wanted everything about him to be entirely my own. The light made it shine irresistibly and I could do nothing to stop myself running my hands through it, twisting and twirling it around my fingertips with more concentration than I'd be willing to pay to anything else. It was exactly as soft as it looked - each lock uniquely perfect enough to designate an entire lifetime to admiring. A few minutes into my fixation, his eyelids fluttered open, in a similar fashion to the leaves delicately falling down from the branches around us.

"Good morning to you too," Ben breathed, sitting up. I felt the absence of his hair between my fingers as the removal of a part of myself. The midday sun was now directly in the middle of the sky, showing flat, colourless doubles of us on the ground and leaving a full blanket of blue in front of us. "I'm so sorry I fell asleep, my love."

"Don't apologise," I answered, keeping my voice low for no other reason than to match the atmosphere, watching him arise and stretch. "We had a long night. I couldn't expect you to live on no sleep at all, and besides..." I stood, too, moving to be as physically close to him as possible, "you're far more attractive when you aren't speaking."

"Wow," he laughed, lacing his fingers between mine, "and here I was thinking all my charm had worked."

"Almost, Benjamin," I smirked, teasing, taking another small step towards him, "here's your chance, if you're so skilled. Charm me."

"Only if you dare me," he smiled back, as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I was addicted to the playful glint in his eye, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing he ever wanted to look at. His touch, his gaze, his existence were the only substances I would ever need for the rest of my life.

"Dare me to dare you," as the words fell from my mouth like the butterflies in my chest were finally escaping, and he pulled me even closer, my lips tingling with anticipation - a clear distant voice interrupted us. I sighed, moving back regretfully. "What the -"

"Those are nice shoes! But don't you think your Gran's feet will be cold without them?"

I recognised the call of the demonic little fucker instantly. I pivoted, pistol in hand, surveying the environment for wherever would be the best gnome hiding-place. As my sights locked onto the pointy-hatted bastard, Ben's hand stayed my arm, forcing it down. I shot him a reproachful glare but his hand remained.

"I owe my life to a gnome," was a sentence I never thought I'd hear from anyone, not least the best soldier in the Albion army. I opened my mouth to inquire, but he stopped me. "Don't ask. But she's not mocking us, so there's somebody else here. Shooting her would let them know we're here. So..." he spun the word out, gazing beyond the wall of trees, "if you could not... do that... that would be great."

"Her?" I asked, joining him in watching for the stranger. "What did you do in Blackholm?" In response, he held one finger up to shush me, and winked. After only a few moments, the army-booted feet of our intruder crossed our field of vision. Ben and I nodded to each other, a wordless agreement of a plan, and took our own directions.

The dead leaves littering the ground made for bad cover. No matter how carefully I placed my steps, the sound betrayed me. My sight was trained solely on where I had seen the threat. There was nothing I hated more than woods. I had been conditioned to expect Balverines whenever there were shady areas. I let my instincts take over, heading towards where the gnome had sounded. Before I could fully canvas of the area, I heard Ben call me.

"Rose! You might wanna see this!" He didn't sound distressed, so I sheathed my sword, sprinting towards the two figures. As I approached, the stranger appeared more and more familiar. Although he was nowhere near as tall as me, he towered over Ben, who appeared almost meek in comparison. A short ponytail hung down his back, against an earthy-green coloured shirt. What I had thought of as a threat now seemed ridiculous.