Melancholy
Summary: The Princess had to fall for someone who she couldn't have at least once. One-Sided HeroxBen. Slightly AU. Oneshot.
She had to fall for someone who she couldn't have at least once.
And that someone was Ben Finn.
The Princess wasn't sure what made him so attractive to her. Maybe it was his hair? Maybe because he was funny and polite? Maybe because he could actually fight unlike the potential lovers she had come across?
At first, she decided to brush the rising emotions off. What use was a relationship in her revolution against Logan?
But even in the following weeks after meeting him, she couldn't help a glance or two that lingered. She wanted him to be hers, an urge that was stronger than what she felt towards the villagers she encountered. But what use was love, really?
So she left it alone, focusing only on claiming the throne.
But then came along Page.
She instantly noticed the way those two interacted; the faintest brush of contact, the briefly stolen glances at the other person.
She couldn't identify the ugly feeling that rose in her chest at first; something that often had her fingers twitching, summoning up the beginnings of a Will-induced fire before she stomped it down. It was a feeling stronger than she'd felt back when she witnessed Elliot hugging Linda, yet the unconscious intimacy of Ben and Page had her more riled up than ever.
But Jasper knew and his tone was touched with sympathy as he named the aggravating emotion.
Jealousy.
She knew Jasper meant well, but even that couldn't hide the remorseful sheen in his eyes as she exited the Sanctuary in suppressed anger.
The Princess now hated it. She hated the longing she felt when thinking of Ben Finn. She hated Page for even meeting him, and hated how well he responded to her.
But most of all, she hated the fact that she couldn't even help the loathing.
Just before the final battle against Logan, she saw it.
On impulse, she had arrived at the Resistance hideout to sleep. She had nowhere else to go, having rented out all her properties, and she hadn't the heart to evict her tenants just so she could nap. However, she regretted choosing the hideout as a place to crash the moment she walked into the main room.
Originally she'd planned to just get permission from Page to sleep there, yet all thoughts of that were swept out of the window.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything she had ever known. The stab of pain was worse than the more fatal wounds she gained occasionally during her journey. Nothing, she swore, could ever really compare to this-
It hurt, seeing them kissing.
They jumped apart when they heard her, both looking astonished. Already, the Princess could feel herself mentally withdrawing. It was a habit she'd learnt, because royalty should never trouble their subjects with their own problems.
Yet the image had been burned into her retinas, and she knew instinctively she would never forget this, no matter how much she bottled the incident up.
Page was hurrying to get her act together, and cast an angry glance at Ben. The Princess didn't know exactly why, though she got the inkling the kiss was more one-sided to start with, yet Page had responded...
She pushed down the turmoil rising in her chest, and quickly asked for, in an unintentionally dead voice, if she could stay.
Not that she would be getting any sleep with this hanging over her head.
Yet Albion came first, and this love she felt... it had done more than enough damage than she could even count.
After that came anger.
She slaughtered Logan's guards, a hurricane of force that no foe could even harm, let alone touch. The agony was still there, and no enemy could even hope to wound her more than that simple kiss had.
Nothing could satisfy her scorn, nothing could heal her at all. Everything was now buried under the mask she now wore, adorned even as the crown was laid upon her brow.
Even the whole incident with Elliot didn't hurt as much as this, because perhaps she could have had Elliot. She had the choice, yet every molecule set her against the notion of breaking him and his new love up, just so she could get Elliot back.
But now she had claimed Albion – it had been her goal all along.
However... why did she feel so empty?
Then the recently crowned Queen learned of the danger approaching. What else to drive her now but the need to protect her land?
All she wanted was for others to feel how she felt now. She was hollow, no different from the undead she had slain just a few months back. She could have found love, yet she had rejected it. All for the good of her kingdom, yet what could it pay her back in return for what she had taken from herself?
She felt her own morals twist throughout the weeks, and though it was for the greater good, she relentlessly made tyrannical decision after another, with no remorse setting her back.
Never had the need to conquer and bring salvation to her people been so far.
It felt good, in a macabre way, to inflict such sufferings on others, and it brought such perverse satisfaction. Reaver was an interesting man; he met her high levels of demands in both business and sex.
Yet for all their intimacy, it meant nothing.
Of course, they both knew there were to be no strings attached, and the Queen knew very well any kind of love mechanism inside the ex-pirate was now wasted away and gone. It had been very different for him, but he too had been scorned.
In the week before the predicted date the darkness would come, Ben Finn came to meet her. He had scheduled a meeting late in the evening, and the empty throne room looked ever so ominous at night.
No one but her knew how much danger Albion was in, and what lengths she had to go to both in gold acquiring and psychologically. Many of her close friends had drifted further away, even Sir Walter, having murmured something along the lines of her being worse than her brother. Her old mentor stayed close by, as loyal as always, but mentally she could sense no personal attachments like they had had in the past.
That hurt, but she would respect his wishes, no matter how badly she wanted him to know.
She had to bear this burden alone, even if she intentionally alienated herself from all of her allies.
Ben Finn was angry, the Queen could tell, yet sad too. Many were now against her rule, yet what kind of Resistance could be formed now that could hope to triumph against a Hero Queen?
"I used to believe that you were just being tyrannical for good reason, you know? I even disregarded any rumours that Reaver was your consort." He started bitterly, though his deeper emotions were hard to discern. The Queen faced away from him, the familiar ache of an unhealed wound appearing in her chest once more.
She waited, eyes an uninterested shade of grey. She was tired, and even the motivation of saving her land spurred her none too easily nowadays.
"But the promises you made, you broke them like they were nothing, like they were worth less than a bloody sack of spuds!" He shook his head, his voice steadily getting more helplessly furious, "we lent you our strength so you could help the people! Not oppress them like your damn brother!"
She didn't move. She knew every single word of his was true. Yet every action of hers was to save Albion! Why couldn't anyone understand this?
She needed someone to know. She needed someone to comfort her and remind her she was doing the right thing after all the harsh words and jeers directed at her from her subjects.
But no one could help her. It was her burden alone to bear.
"Don't question your Queen." She stated coldly, emotionless eyes narrowing at Ben as she finally whirled around to face him. He was taken aback at her venomous tone, but was quick to recover.
"I'll question 'my Queen' all I bloody damn well like-!"
"Get out of here before I kill you on the spot!" She cut in ferociously; why couldn't he just leave? The throbbing in her chest was getting harder to ignore.
Suddenly, she felt tired. She couldn't deal with this; especially with that expression of bewilderment and hurt plastered on the usually devilish face.
As if Ben could sense her lethargy, his features turned weary. "Just why, is all I want to know." He said quietly.
And war erupted within her.
Could she tell him? It would be so much easier, and just the thought of him staying by her side was enough to bring her to life again. He cared enough for her to check up on her, even if it was a few months late.
But the factors bombarded her again. The factor of him just knowing, and the factor of him dying.
She couldn't bear that, wouldn't be able to. She would lead the army by herself, and she preferred it if her previous allies stayed behind to look after her land. She would be going to Aurora to confront the Darkness herself, and she wasn't about to bring any of her close friends down with her.
She had been planning to leave this night, but the sudden meet-up with Ben had her impulsively delaying her teleportation to Aurora.
So the Queen remained silent, and Ben Finn hung his head in defeat.
Nothing would make her break down, not tonight.
"... Page and I are getting married," he said suddenly.
Except maybe that.
The simple words caused her to flinch. A tiny section of her facade crumbled, and she had to turn away to hide the tears that began to pool.
"Prin- My Queen?" He asked, a frown present in his voice – and it sounded like he was getting closer by the second by the sound of soft footsteps.
"Why are you telling me this?" She demanded, but her voice was pathetically small, even to her.
The footsteps stopped. "I... I wanted to invite you." Ben said quietly, and his voice was once again emotionally incomprehensible to her.
"When is it?" It was not a fierce question. All the fight had left her; now, she felt emptier than ever.
The Queen felt his dubious gaze on her as he answered in a careful tone; "Next week... you think you could make it?" His tone was bordering on hopeful, despite the malice she had treated him with just moments before.
Next week...? Next week, she'd be deep within the deserts of Aurora, surrounded by her diminishing army and fighting with the Crawler, both psychologically and physically.
Next week...
"Of course, Ben."
His relief was almost palpable, and she had to swallow hard in an attempt to make no sound.
"That's... that's really great! I- we'll see you there, then?" The grin in his voice... for half a minute, she decided to stop breathing.
She could feel his presence begin to leave the room, his footsteps a jaunty tune of short-lived joy.
It was on the tip of her tongue; a sudden confession that came from the pent up emotions inside of her.
She was going to say it, she would say it-!
But there the words stayed, on the edge of her lips until the doors closed with an air of finality.
He was gone.
She didn't know when she had last cried, but nothing stopped the tears now.
Slowly, she let those words spill. Words that, had she uttered them a little more than a year ago, could have changed everything.
"I love you."
A/N: Review if you wish. May be continued if there is a good reception.