She's a Rebel // Ben Finn x Princess

Chapter 26 (a.k.a The End)

On the night we fled the castle, Jasper had remarked how sinister the garden seemed at night. At the time, I had agreed. But almost 5 years later, beneath the vast expanse of navy blue sky, in the most secluded section of the courtyard we could find, I could hardly imagine anywhere more peaceful. Evidence of spring was emerging, in the form of sprouts and buds littering the grass. It would have been cold, if not for Ben's embrace.

"All of these stars," Ben stated wistfully, "and yet nothing shines as brightly as your eyes." There was a subtle tone in his voice that told me he was being sincere. His intentions may have been pure, but I couldn't let him get away with being that cheesy. I laughed, loudly, causing all the birds in our immediate surroundings to fly away. "What?" He protested, his tone laced with faux annoyance.

"Are you serious?" I responded, still watching the cloudless sky. Ben's hand held mine gently, as if I was fragile and precious. There was something incredibly refreshing about being treated that way. Since I had become a Hero first and royalty second, nobody had been this kind. "What, did you steal that line from a Lambert and Pinch play?" He shook his head and crossed his arms like an angry toddler. "Only a guilty man runs, Finn."

"Last time I ever try to be romantic, huh," he sighed, mock-upset, before relaxing. Seizing my moment, I silently moved closer to him, stealing more of his body heat. Not that he would ever mind. "Shame, really, since I can be as romantic as I want around you now."

"To an extent," I countered, and earned a glare from my fiancé. "Come on, we can't get a reputation throughout the entire kingdom for being that couple, you know?" He gave me a devilish look.

"That couple, huh?" A slight breeze - well, that or Ben's tone - made me shiver and Ben held me closer. "You mean the kind of couple who make out in the castle gardens?" I had intended to interrupt and insist that we weren't making out, but within seconds his lips were on mine and I was both unable and unwilling to protest any further. The elated feeling I'd had since we had announced our plans in the War Room the previous day were intensified, made slightly brighter by our intimacy, like our whole future had been dipped in gold. I had never really had this kind of romance before; it was nice to be part of a ridiculously sickening couple.

I couldn't believe I was happy, finally. That was, until we were interrupted.

"Ahem," At the sound, I attempted to jump away from Ben, habitually, but he held me in place. I looked up, to see Page towering over us. "I know it's late, but it seems you weren't sleeping anyway." I sat up, against Ben's grip, coughing to make myself seem more dignified. "I've solved your little problem, if you want to call into the lobby," she smirked to herself, her features highlighted by the soft moonlight and distant lanterns, "I don't think you'll be disappointed."

I sighed, as she moved away and nudged Ben to stand up. He began feigning sleep. I sighed again, wondering how exactly I had managed to fall in love with an oversized child. Pulling him up, I lectured him on the importance of patience and crown duties. He pouted as I almost dragged him across the gardens. It was hard to ignore his feeble complaints.

"I miss the days when you hated Page too much to listen to her," he whined, "I was comfortable, you know. Why do you have to be so good all the time? Rosie..."

"Benjamin, I swear to Avo if you don't shut up I'm going to force you to attend more court meetings," I glared at him. He was quiet. Silence fell over the entire garden; our footsteps on the gravel as a melodic soundtrack to the night. Approaching the castle, voices joined the sound, emanating from the foyer of the castle. My pace quickened.

"My love! Oh, it's been agony being separated from you all these years! If you would just take my hand, we shall be reunited once again!" I entered the scene, holding my fiancé's hand and instantly regretted it. A man I'd never seen before was kneeling on the floor with his long, tattered coat trailing the floor. His hair was tangled and long, like he hadn't cared for it in months and his shoes that were nothing more than flimsy leather clinging to his feet. Tucked into his pocket was a quill - a poet, I assumed. He had the vibe of a poet, at least. "Mary, dearest, please!"