She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 20

Of all the things I had expected to see upon returning home, Mary Godwin attempting to turn my brother a Hobbe was not at the top of my list. A crowd had gathered around them, shamelessly gawping at the scene that really should have been happening somewhere more private. I was forced to join the hubbub for a moment, equally shocked, witnessing her maniacal fixation with wrestling a luminous liquid down Logan's throat. I watched, mesmerised, as if it was some kind of play, relieved that he at least seemed to be resisting her.

"Are you not going to step in?" Ben whispered, shocking me out of my reverie. I shook myself into action, without a second thought. I pushed through the crowd, though neither Mary nor Logan reacted to my presence. It was almost as if they didn't know they weren't alone. She either really was a witch or they were very in love.

"You seem to have mistaken my foyer for a lab, Miss Godwin," I stated, praying to Avo my fear of her did not show on my face. Her limp brown hair matched her dirty and torn dress, but contrasted with the wild glint in her eyes - the look of a murderer, or a cannibal, or a murderer who moonlighted as a cannibal. "I'd appreciate it if you cease... whatever that is, immediately."

"Wherever my subject is, that is my lab," she chuckled, mostly to herself. It was unclear whether her hollow cheekbones were a consequence of her weird experiments, or a mixture of hiding in the woods and an untreated mental illness. "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I just couldn't let you steal my most precious possession."

"It sure is a good job he left you willingly, then, isn't it?" I grinned, falsely, patronising, stepping forward in an effort to appear in any way in control of the situation. "Miss Godwin, would you like to remove your hand from my brother?" At my words, a few guards that had been keenly observing the scene made themselves present, and a panicked look spread across her face. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip on his throat, turning to me with a thunderous expression, leaving Logan to collapse, lifeless, on the floor beside the stairwell. "Now, if you'd like to follow these fine gentlemen to the holding cells."

"You have no grounds to arrest me!" Mary protested, her eyes widening. Her mannerisms clearly belonged to someone who was accustomed to being the victim. "I haven't committed a crime!" Her pitch was high enough to shatter glass, indignation lining her voice like a dangerous explosive. I felt the gathered mixture of servants and nobles around me collectively hold their breath - I had accidentally turned this from a random incident to a full-blown Albion scandal. There was no way this wasn't going to be the hottest topic in the Kingdom by the morning.

"Psychiatric evaluation," I lied, spontaneously. Any attempt to make my revelation seem less like a eureka moment and more like a thought-out plan was totally lost on Mary - her glare was designed to burn a very real hole through my chest. If only looks could kill. She was powerless against me in my own castle, however, and she was well aware of that. Begrudgingly, dragging her feet against the carpet like a punished child, she followed the guards through the castle.

The crowd scattered the second the drama was over, a strangely choreographed movement that could never be fully controlled, leaving only Ben, my brother and I in the room. I instantly gravitated towards Ben, as if my skin craved his subconsciously. He smiled at me, raising his eyebrows - signalling his opinion on the whole situation. I sent him a similar expression back, shamelessly, wondering how he managed to alleviate the tension in a room so easily.

"Logan, honestly, how is your taste in women so awful?" Ben asked, taking his arm and aiding him to sit up. The small quantity of the liquid he did consume appeared to have only left him weak and drowsy, thankfully. "I understand how you could fall for a crazy girl but an actual witch? How did you even manage that?"

"I don't know," Logan shrugged, as Ben held his arm around his back and helped him up the stairs. I followed dutifully. "I only said no because I don't want to be a Hobbe."

"That makes sense," I replied, manoeuvring in front of them to open the double doors at the top of the stairs. Ben shot me a hyperbolic look of mock-exhaustion and I stifled a laugh. "I don't think anybody actually wants to be a Hobbe, not even Dans Mourir."

"No, no," he corrected, "I don't want to be a Hobbe, because I want to be a Balverine." We guided Logan into the spare bedroom, his ability to hold himself upright diminishing steadily to complete inaptitude. "I don't know, I just think it'd be pretty groovy, you know. You'd never have to wear a coat because you'd always be warm. You know, because of the fur. Just imagine, Rose!"

"I'm sure it'd be great, but you're not going to become a Balverine under my watch, brother," I smiled, patting his shoulder with as much real affection as I could manage for a man who just told me he wanted to be a Balverine. "Just sleep, for now, and we can talk in the morning, okay?" He nodded, sleepily, falling asleep as I spoke. "Sleep well, Logan."

I let Ben leave the room first, taking one last glance at my sibling - peaceful, for once - before stepping out into the corridor and closing the door as softly as I could behind me. I leaned against the wall with a sigh.

"You okay?" Ben inquired quietly. I only managed to nod in response, unsure of my real feelings. "My whole plan to cheer you up got kinda messed up, huh. Sorry about that, sweetheart."

"It was my fault," I countered, inching closer to him despite the abundance of bodies peopling the hallways. "But..." I began, unsure of the correct way for a queen to pose the question, "how about you spend the night? My pillows are filled with only the finest chicken feathers."

"How on earth could I refuse that offer?" He teased, smoothing his hand through my tangled hair. Despite my tiredness, it astounded me that he was still so chipper. "Tell me, did you get to pick the chickens they came from or was it simply an objective choice?" His hand found mine as we walked towards my chambers, the closeness of our bodies providing an adequate cover. "But I must confess that isn't the most persuasive part of your proposal."

"Oh?" I feigned innocence, leading him through my open bedroom door and standing apart from him. He smirked, a crooked smile that I had never fully witnessed before, only in traces hidden in moments that had never come to fruition, before locking the door with a swift movement. "And what is it, exactly, that persuaded you to be here?"

"I don't know," Ben matched my tone, swooping his hair back the same way he would before a battle, the faint scent of gunpowder filling the room like the electric in the air between us, "I think I might need a little more convincing, your majesty." I watched his lips form the words softly, and felt the realisation of 'fuck, this is real' send shock-waves through every nerve in my body. I bridged the distance between us, my hands attaching themselves like magnets to either side of his face, his body responding to my actions perfectly.

Our lips connected hungrily, igniting a long neglected spark of passion between us. My lungs seemed lighter, my heart fluttering endlessly against my ribcage. I struggled to believe that I was truly experiencing the thrill of this moment with Ben Finn. In private, his touch was light, barely noticeable; the opposite of what I would have ever imagined intimacy with Ben would be like. The heat between us only served to amplify my amazement. My hands skirted smoothly underneath the fabric of his shirt, feeling a vast expanse of skin I had not yet had the ecstasy of exploring. He let out a short breath. We staggered backwards, as one, towards my bed. As he pushed me down, we were separated for a moment and I felt the distance as a cold breeze across my skin. All I could do was stare, mesmerised. Upon seeing my expression, he beamed.

"Oh, how I've waited for this," he sighed, a ray of sunshine bathed in the waning light of the fast approaching dusk. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this was the first night of a life together and Gods it was an intoxicating idea. He kissed me again, feverishly, a closeness that I had never felt with anyone before gripping me. I could only hope it would never let me go.