Seal my heart and brake my pride
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide
Align my heart, my body, my mind
To face what I've done and do my time

-Dust Bowl Dance (Mumford & Sons)

The rain is pouring down the window as Ben sat in his chair. He was bored, his chin resting comfortably within his palm as he stared into the nothingness. Walter, who had begun to pace, was speaking to no end of the financial crisis that had overwhelmed the monarch. The treasury was bone dry and each passing day, Walter grew nervous, causing for his talks to grow more long and more boring. He could feel Walter's nervousness grow as he spoke, his stubby fingers moving over nothing. Nervous for the impending invasion, nervous for the people and, most importantly, nervous for the new queen's reign, Walter had these talks a least daily as of late.

"Esther," Walter said to the young queen. "We must consider the repercussions of every action we take. We can only allow allocate so much money to abolish poverty, if we want the people to exist this time next year."

Esther sighed, rubbing her hands together and closing her eyes. She really was quite beautiful, Ben knew very well - he had spent enough time staring at her features to swear by the statement. Long eyelashes surrounding deep brown eyes, blushing cheeks and a swan like neck, she could command attention of any young man. However it was hard to see her beauty as she was constantly tense lately, dark circles surrounding her eyes. A joke scarcely escaped her lips, while a smile was even rarer. It was hard to think of what she had been not just six months earlier.

Before her, papers were scattered and piled in no order. Paper weights and pens kept them company. Ben had no idea what they read and he doubted that he would understand what they said if he could.

"And if they die to starvation I will have no people to govern!" She returned, her voice firm.

Walter nodded, his lips becoming a thin line. His hands were behind his back and he looked terribly out of place, even with all his knowledge. Before Aurora, Ben could remember a jovial man, ready to protect the monarch he held so dear. In the months since, he had grown thin and elderly. His own eyes were growing dark from apparent age.

Esther's eyes returned to the papers. "There must be somewhere we can get gold."

Her fingers began to shift through the paper work, gazing at the pieces that she picked up. This was not the first time she had done this, nor was it the second. Every day, it seemed, she searched through her official paper work, begging the unseen for a miracle so that she might keep her promises as well as lead Albion to victory. It had been three months since Logan's trial, and it had been three months of fruitless search.

If Ben had anything other than love and respect for Esther, he would have called the search borderline pathetic. Page had always told him that he was too soft on her, that she had to learn. Ben knew she was right. Both men stared at the woman as she searched, the papers scrapping against one another accompanying the rain for noise. Ben wanted to reach out to stop her hand, to hold her, to tell her that it would be alright, everything would work out but he could make no such promise. He had no idea if they would survive, let alone if the six million people that populate his homeland would. Instead, he sat, silent, gazing at the woman before him.

/

The hours rolled passed slowly and tortuously until the clocks hit five in the evening. Esther arose from her seat and Walter dismissed himself quietly, leaving the room briskly. The two used to be friends, Ben knew. However, they had barely spoken since Walter had awoken in Aurora. He had accepted her apology, but something was still unforgiven, causing the friction. It was uncomfortable to watch from time to time and Ben more often than not chose not involve himself with the situation.

Ben approached the queen as she collected some papers. How strange it was to think of her as that. She was shorter than he, younger by a handful of years and more naive than any child that he ever met. At least she had been when he had met her. He stood proper and she stared at him. They remained silent for a moment.

The rain was a constant sound, beating against the window as though it wanted in. It was oddly quiet within the castle that day, with not even a servant's footsteps to fill the empty walls.

"Ben," She faltered. "What am I doing?"

Her eyes were warm with fear and he had to physical swallow back the urge to hold her once more. Ben broke eye contact, straightening his spine and remembering the oath he took when he joined the army. He was a pawn, nothing compared to her greatness. She would change the world, perhaps even save it.

There was no way fucking way he deserved to comfort her.

"Doing what you must." Ben returned quickly and regretted it immediately.

She turned stoic, nodding. Her own back turned straight and she turned away from him, gathering more papers into her hands. Ben could see scared tissue from sword and gun but could not study more as she turned toward him once more, quick and without emotion.

"If you would show yourself out, I have business to attend to." She said.

Ben nodded and watched as she slipped through the doors into her private office. He stood for a brief moment, wondering what he had done and what had happened. They had once been so easy with one another, joking and probing into each other's insecurities. It had been fun to see her flush at the mention of Alan, who later she married, and divorced. It had even been fun when she had picked up on him and Page so early on.

Ben turned and left the war room, feeling a cold draft as he did so. He walked through cool hallways and passed quiet servants, hand on his rifle. The uniform was growing uncomfortable and his back was growing tired from standing straight for show. He thought of home but the image was quick replaced by the tavern. He was quite liked that idea.

It was truly pouring out. The castle garden was like a giant puddle against the grey skies that overwhelmed the shape of Bowerstone. Aware that he had no hood or coat, Ben sighed. He was bound to be soaked.

He thought back to Mourningwood, the swamping forest and the hollowmen. He felt a vague sort of sadness at the days gone by, the short glimpse of the golden days he had. He thought of Captain Swift, the silly man with his giant mustache and wondering what he would have thought of the present. Being the true hero, without being a Hero, he would have probably been perfect for the job.

Ben was not. And he was aware of it.

He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold trickle down his neck and began his long walk, unaware that the queen watched his frame leave the gates of the castle, a deep frown etched on her supposed beautiful features.

/

P: I am looking for a beta reader if anyone is offering. I kinda need one, really.

Timshel is a Hebrew word that means "thou mayest" and is tied to the idea of free will. Also, it's a Mumford & Sons song, a band that will be guiding force behind my hand for this story.

I was disappointed with the lack of Ben Finn lovin', like many out there, so I wrote this. Ben is a little depressing, I know, and he'll be back to normal in the next one (if I can organize my thoughts to write it). More will be coming (I think).

Thanks for reading.