This is a long story. If you would like to read it in a more broken-up format, you can find in on ArchiveofourOwn under the name 'Green Eyes, Star Eyes' by WanderlustandFreedom.
Ben had long since accepted the meager lifestyle that came with being an HK, or Hero's Kid. It was a title mockingly adorned to the lesser half of the population, to remind them of exactly why they were hated. He's grown up inside of a giant green barrier in the middle of a desert, knowing that as soon as he's old enough, he's going to be sold into the real world like some live possession for the villains to enjoy.
But in the marketplace, he meets someone he'd never suspected could ever be real. The girl from his dreams who he never suspected could be real. And, he learns, the person in line for the throne of the land. The same place he'd be if his family had managed to finish uniting Auradon. She, at least, doesn't seem content to let him die.
Green Eyes, Star Eyes
"You look like someone killed your puppy."
Ben turned upon hearing the familiar voice. Despite everything weighing his soul down, he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. "Hey!" He perked up, holding out a hand to invite her to come to sit beside him. She did, straightening her jacket as she kicked her shoes out beside his and leaned back with her palms bracing into the ground.
The girl's name was Mal and she'd been appearing in his dreams since he was about thirteen. He wasn't sure why – maybe his head had just created someone he could talk to? She might have been a product of his hormone-driven fantasies, but she was still excellent conversation. After all(and he realized this with none-too-few chuckles), the easiest person to get along with was yourself.
He had to say, looking at her, that his subconscious didn't exactly have low standards. She'd grown up with him over the years but was no less alluring or breathtaking than she had been the first time she'd appeared. Sharp, angular nose, a tiny slip of mouth with little plush pink lips pulled into a near-constant curl. Pink cheeks and nose, large green eyes that squinted past black lashes and thin, shadowy eyebrows. It might be a bit odd to know her face in so many dimensions – to know all the details of her better than he even knew his or his parents – but staring at it in dreams and in his imagination all his teen years had perfected his analysis. This imaginary girl had been the fixation of his daydreams since she'd first appeared.
Mal raised an eyebrow at him, brushing her most memorable feature, her purple hair, behind her ear. Another sign of how unrealistic his expectations were. She pushed her head out to prompt him to say something. He blinked. Had she said anything since she'd sat down?
"Who killed your puppy?" She prompted upon seeing his blank look. "Or – actually – you seem like the kind of guy who'd like kittens. Or those tiny annoying chirpy birds."
"Well, I-" Ben began, then tripped and stumbled over his own words. Mal waited, then started talking to cover up the awkwardness.
"You know, if I had to peg you for a pet guy, I'd probably go for a goldfish. Something small, not a lot of maintenance, something you could talk to when you're lonely…"
"Hey." Ben wrinkled his nose up. "I never asked for your opinion on my coping strategies,"
Mal burst into laughter. Ben watched her face change like it was all in slow motion. She rolled her shoulders back as her chest filled with air. Her mouth broke into a wild smile before her first laughs reached her throat. She used to never laugh like this. The very first time she'd laughed around him, he'd been so startled that she'd begun to laugh even harder.
He loved her laugh.
It seemed a bit odd to express affection towards a person he'd created. Still, he leaned his head on his hand and whispered: "I love your laugh."
Immediately, Mal covered her mouth, ceased her laugh, and rolled her eyes. Her utter disapproval of Ben's compliment forced a different laugh up and out of his chest. "You don't have to be so indignant," he told her.
"Why are you such a sap?" she groaned. "I never asked for someone like you in my life." She picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it in her palm. The surrounding scenery was from near his home. They were hiding in a crack in the ground with pretty, colorful rocks lining the walls. Wild rose bushes bloomed twice a year and Ben would often brave the thorns to bring them home to his mom. The sky above them was an odd grey and gold. Ben's dreams with Mal often took place here or on the front steps of his home.
He ran his fingers over the earth. Jagged, needle-like rocks stuck into his skin. He cleared his throat. "We might not be coming here much anymore," he whispered. "I have to go tomorrow. I hope I'll still see you, though."
"You always talk as if this is all real."
"It is to me."
Ben had long since accepted the meager lifestyle that came with being an HK, or Hero's Kid. It was a title mockingly adorned to the lesser half of the population, to remind them of exactly why they were hated.
Like most of the other Hero Kids, he lived in a three-room grey flat-roofed home on a thin gravel street in the middle of nowhere. There were long lines of colorless homes to make up the sparsely populated city where the Queen had decreed they would be kept. A large, vivid green barrier kept everyone from leaving the area. There were no walls, no stores, no government buildings or services. Those were strictly for the citizenry of the second caste of the system. The lowly, heroic outcasts did without things like parks and libraries and courthouse.
Though it would have been nice. Ben had always wanted to see a library.
The heroes were forced to earn their upkeep by either processing paperwork from around the kingdom or manual labor. Ben's mother, despite her prominence, was lucky enough to hold a job in the former. Ben's father worked in the granite mines. Up until two weeks ago, Ben's hopes for the future had included a job processing papers, staying under the High Palace's radar, and not dying at an early age due to the assassination attempts that frequently plagued the heroes.
Twenty years ago, King Adam and Queen Belle had married and begun traveling about the kingdom. King Adam was the first to propose uniting the kingdoms to create one nation. All that talk had set the villains on edge – by the time the heroes began passing ideas back and forth about a deserted island off the coast of the continent where they could lock the villains away, it was too late. The villains united against the weakly-linked kingdoms and overthrew the kings and queens. They tortured those who fought back and plundered treasuries and lands before banishing all of the heroes – not to an Isle – to a deserted field at the base of a mighty mountain where they could be easily monitored and summoned. And it was here that Ben had been born and raised, son of Belle and the former Beast. The would-be rulers of the kingdoms, had they been able to finish uniting everyone.
The city was not a horrible place to grow up, at least not in Ben's childhood. It was orderly and many of the people were kind. They would protect you even if they didn't know you. The Heroic Outcasts were fed on rations and what they could raise themselves and gifted the cast-offs that no one else in the kingdom wanted, leading to an excess of drab cloth and rough yarn. No education was provided, but people like Ben's mother Belle taught the children to read and write. Ben loved to read, though all the books that came in were dirty and mistreated.
Queen Maleficent, the villainess who had ended up in charge of what might have been his country in another time, was not a bad queen. A cruel leader, sure, but she kept things in order and got things done quickly. Ben had heard that in other parts of the country, there were distribution centers and shelters and clean water. But not for the hero's children. Never for the hero's children.
When Ben was nine, the head government had come up with a demented new system to further torture the heroes that had begun to get used to being shut away. Major villains like Cruella De Vil, Gaston, and Maleficent herself had, over the years, been killing off their minions. They'd decided, instead of correcting their ways, the hero's children would step up to fulfill the need for servantry. At first, the head palace had assured them that the selection would be random. But the first "raffle" came and it was clear that they were only interested in the children of the famous heroes. Ben's parents had been trying to have another child – a sister for him – before they'd realized. After that, knowing the chances of Ben being raffled were already highly probable, they'd quit.
Ben had turned 16 months before the raffle and it was no surprise when his name was immediately drawn. He had two weeks before he'd leave home. Now one night. He'd be sent with forty-nine other children and young adults to be sold off to whoever wanted them. After that… the odds of not surviving your first three months were twenty-three to seventy-seven.
So, he wasn't going to come back, and he probably wouldn't survive the year.
It was early morning. The sun wasn't up yet. He hadn't slept all night. He had three hours left with his parents.
His mom was in the kitchen. He could hear her steps on the floor, pans sliding on the stovetop, her occasional gasps of breath when she began to cry. Part of him wanted to go out and spend whatever time he had left today with her. Watch his dad watch the sunrise. Ignore the lingering glances. The other part only wanted to stay seated on the root of his made bed, memorize the space that had been his for all his life, and ponder on the existence of his entire world.
He did finally manage to haul himself off of the bed. As soon as he'd opened the door, he could smell pancakes, which was crazy because the rations the former heroes lived on barely stretched to provide weekly bread.
In the center of the round kitchen table was a towering stack of golden-brown pancakes. Beside it, a bowl of apples that were cut small to cover the pancakes. "Mom!" Ben gasped, staring at the stack. "Why so many? You didn't need to do this!" Their food had to stretch. Belle and Adam would probably go hungry for a day or two to pay for this meal.
Ben's mom kissed him on the cheek with tears in her eyes. "Well, we needed something," she whispered, Behind her, hanging from a dull hook in the corner, was her bag for work. A mere thirty minutes after Ben left, she and Ben's dad would both be expected to be at work. Never mind that they'd just said goodbye to their only child for the last time. If Ben was purchased by someone more compassionate, they might receive his body or a notice of his death. More likely, they'd never know whether he'd died.
"You ready?" Adam asked from the doorway into their bedroom. Ben could barely see him with the dim lighting but could hear the shaking in his voice.
"There's not much I can do to get ready," Ben reasoned. "It's not like he could take anything. Whatever he took would likely be pawned off.
Not much was said over breakfast. Belle kept a bible on the table to read as she ate. Ben had tried to read it a few times, but as far as he could tell, it was specifically written to cause headaches. At one point though, she brushed a paragraph with her fingers and then said aloud: "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." And Ben and his dad both nodded in synonymous solemnity. At the end of the meal, Belle wrapped four extra pancakes in a clean cloth for him to keep. Ben's dad watched the sunrise come up. Ben watched his parents move, committing every motion to memory.
At ten minutes to seven, a knock came at the door. Ben's dad crossed the room to open it. No one was very surprised to see Le Feu, a former associate of Gaston's who was now in charge of this cruel system, standing outside. He sneered when he saw who was behind the door.
"Well, well, well," he snickered. "I've been waiting for this day."
Adam said nothing, only looked to the ground biting his tongue as Ben took the pancakes his mom had packed. Keeping out of her sight, he removed two and set them back on the counter. He was tempted to leave the packet as a whole, knowing they would need something to keep them through to the next week, but also pondering on the rumors that none of the children who were sent were fed anything at all, and that was why they died off so quickly. Find your own food or starve to death.
He moved to the door slowly. Fast enough to not look like he was stalling too much, slow enough to not rush to leave his home. Belle followed him to the door. He hugged her tightly, burying his nose in her collarbone and trying to conjure up every good memory that he'd ever had with her. Then, before stepping over the threshold of the house, he hugged his dad in the same way. Belle started to cry as he was released and finally took a step out of the house.
"Alright, alright," Le Feu moaned gruffly, shoving Ben to the street where a group of other teens and young adults were standing in a guarded huddle. Other soldiers were going down the street, though they looked to be almost done. Ben watched as his next-door neighbor and childhood friend Chad was hauled out of his home and into the street with his own mother sobbing from the doorstep. Chad was the son of Cinderella and Charming, so it hadn't been much of a surprise when his name came up alongside Ben's. Other friends who would be leaving him were Lonnie, daughter of Mulan and Shang, and Audrey, daughter of Aurora and Stefan.
Their little group had never had much chance of jumping under the radar. Next year would be just as bad. Jane, the Fairy Godmother's daughter, would be sixteen then, along with Melody, Ariel and Eric's daughter, and Morgan, adopted daughter of Giselle.
Ben was ushered into the crowd and stood alone for a few seconds until he managed to find a stone-faced Lonnie patting a sobbing Audrey's back. He hung beside them, drawing patterns on Audrey's back until black armored trucks came down the road towards them.
He could run. He'd be shot and someone would have to take his place, but he could do it.
He wouldn't though. He'd let whoever was left have as much time as possible.
He didn't look back at his home until he was standing with about ten other kids in the back of the van. The front door was open still as Belle and Adam wept and watched everyone depart. He hoped they hadn't seen which one he was put in. He hoped they would be able to get through the day. And he hoped that, whenever his death happened, they wouldn't be too heartbroken to go on.
The market was dark and smoky, which was somehow both what Ben had been expecting and nothing he'd thought would exist in Maleficent's kingdom at the same time. Black cobbled streets that they were taken out on one by one in chains as seemingly hundreds of purchasers laughed and jeered from the sidelines. He could see people pointing at the fairer ones as they passed. Once descriptions were added to them, looks wouldn't matter as much. Everyone would want the children of the most famous heroes.
Poor Audrey was ridiculed the moment she was pulled off by her hair. The black-masked figure shook her arm. "Aurora's kid!" He yelled to the crowd, who began to scream and catcall with increasing viciousness.
The people who looked stronger were chained to tall beams on the far left side of the courtyard. Ben was one of them whose chains were shackled to the beam and then whose arms were tied behind his back. He'd stowed the pancakes in his shirt before the chains were applied, and the cloth rubbed against his stomach in circular motions. Besides him, on either side, was Chad and Lonnie. Audrey was not considered very strong, and as such stood still with her chains shackling her to the floor. This served two purposes. One, she couldn't run. Two, no one could steal her.
The new slaves were all subdued, and then the market filled. People walked back and forth, examining each. One came up to Ben and pried his jaw open to examine his teeth, and then jeered and rubbed some yellow off of theirs before walking away. Ben didn't fight much. What was the point?
An announcer started calling descriptions as the trucks pulled away. They announced parents and a starting price. Names didn't matter much around here.
Ben tried to block out the sounds of his friends being auctioned off. His eyes were throbbing through the smoke. He closed them, and when he next peered around, everything was blurry. He glanced down the line at Chad, who had three people wearing brown and dirty white looking at him and laughing as he set his jaw and refused to do anything for them. A group of people were heckling Audrey, sneering at the form-fitting clothes she wore and snorting as she flinched away from their touches. Then, as he tried to circle around to Lonnie, he spotted a figure in all purple staring at him.
He stared right back, and almost died on the spot.
Was that Mal?
The girl's face was blank from all emotion as she studied the outline of his face. And yes, she was wearing Mal's features. That same purple hair that was cut at slightly different lengths because she did it herself. Those same large green eyes and black lashes, unhidden by any makeup at all. She looked much, much paler in real life when she wasn't surrounded by the muted colors of his home, and much smaller around all these tall people.
He mouthed her name. "Mal?"
Someone stepped in front of him and cut off his vision. It was Le Feu, from earlier, and he was grinning ferociously as he presented Ben to someone wearing all brown leather beside him. "Here he is!" He announced with a laugh so loud and raucous that others in the area glanced to see who he was talking about. Le Feu wasn't the announcer – that man was still working through some kids a bit older than Ben who didn't have as prominent parents – but he was loud enough to be. He nudged the kid in brown. "Go tell your dad that he's with this bunch. I'm sure Gaston would love to meet Belle's son."
Ben's blood ran icy. He closed his eyes and refused to bow his head or looked alarmed at all. Both men laughed before someone cut them off.
"Sorry boys, but this one is mine."
Ben didn't need to open his eyes to know that it was Mal. He did need to open his eyes to examine her as she stepped forward, fingers on her chin as if in deep thought. "Go get your lackeys elsewhere."
She took his chin and turned his head from side to side to examine him further, then racked her eyes down his frame as she walked around him. He couldn't tell if she recognized him or not. Le Feu and Gaston's son both looked miffed. "Uh, Mal," the young boy scowled. "This is Belle's son. You know, my dad's girl? We have dibs."
Mal snapped her gaze over to the boy and Ben automatically shrank away. He'd been pinned under that gaze before in his dreams when doing something stupid or trying to poke fun at her. "Take it up with the palace," Mal snapped, rolling her eyes. She pulled a sealed pot out of her pocket along with a brush and quickly dipped it before taking his chin in an iron grip that was sure to leave bruises before painting something on his left cheek hurriedly. Behind her, the two men scoffed and walked away.
"Mal?" Ben whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself over the noise. Mal's gaze flicked up and hardened.
"Excuse me?" She demanded. "You don't get to use my name." She scoffed and spun on her heel. The tips of her hair whipped past his face. He almost expected her to storm off, but she simply stood guard beside him.
"Please?" He tried again, carefully examining her reaction. "I was just hoping I could beg a favor from you."
She glanced over her shoulder, looking annoyed he was still talking to her. "And why would I do anything for you?" She demanded softly.
Ben glanced down the line where someone was running her hands up and down Audrey's trembling sides. "The girl down there," he whispered. "is Aurora's daughter. Is there any chance you could… get her too? I don't want her going to any of those people who are heckling her."
Mal turned around, slowly. She tilted her head to the side. "Old fling?" she asked softly.
Ben shook his head. "Childhood friend," he corrected gently.
Mal shook her head. "If you want her to keep alive, it's best she don't come with us. My mom will literally cook her alive and eat her heart out."
Ben flinched back. Those rumors hadn't gotten back to the city. Was that what was going to happen to him? "I understand," he whispered softly, letting his chin drop.
Mal turned away. "Jay!" She snapped into the crowd and walked away. She didn't go far – he could still see her boots when she stopped, and he glanced up as she pulled the head of a tall, brown-haired boy with red jewels in his hair down to her level. For a second, Ben's heart skipped a beat. Was she eating him? Was she a cannibal just like her mom? Or was she kissing him in front of Ben? Oh, no, she was just whispering in his ear.
The boy glanced down the line as Mal reached into her pocket and withdrew a stack of vivid green plastic bills with Maleficent's face on them. She palmed about half to him and then withdrew back to Ben. Ben watched the boy walk away, shoving people out of his path as he strode, and then stop in front of Audrey. He stroked her cheek carefully, then turned around and hissed at the crowd like he was some sort of snake. Ben caught the word: "Palace."
"Jay'll take her," Mal muttered under her breath. "Don't be fooled by the act. His dad's a pretty normal-going owner. She'll probably take stock and work in the shop."
"Will she live?" Ben asked softly.
Mal rolled her eyes. "Everyone dies, Ben. Some sooner than others."
Ben stared at her. Mal waited for several seconds, examining her nails, and then glanced up at him. "What?" She demanded in a snap.
"You know my name?" Ben whispered. It hadn't been said yet.
Mal's expression hardened. "I heard your friends say it," she snapped and then quickly left and dissipated into the crowd.
No one touched Ben now that he had the paint on his cheek, but people glanced him up and down, wondering what was so special about him. Down the line, Audrey was taken away by Jay before the person next to Chad was announced. Ben could hardly focus as he raked his head for any recollection of a sign that Mal had recognized him. She had stared those first few minutes, yes, and she had seemed open to helping him, but nothing in her eyes had betrayed her. She had barely shown anything over impartial interest. Yet he was sure that she must know him. This dream girl that was apparently real. She must know who he was. Why else would she have told Le Feu to back off?
And more than that, who was she to have such sturdy connections?
Someone seized his shoulder. "This lad has already been claimed!" The announcer laughed. The stench of fish filled Ben's breath as the man leaned in to howl in his face. The crowd following the announcer laughed along with him before he waved for silence. "Behold!" he decreed, and Ben caught a glimpse of Mal standing behind the main crowd. "The son of Belle and Beast! The would-be King of Auradon!" With an exaggerated, mocking flourish, the announcer bowed with hands held palm-up beside his head, before rising to laugh again. The crowd exploded, pointing and jeering at him. A few of them bowed low to the ground, laughing and mocking as Ben's cheeks burned.
Mal's face had gone very pale. She seemed, for the first time, startled. It appeared that she hadn't known before who he was. That if Maleficent hadn't been quicker than the heroes, their situations would be reversed. Well, not entirely reversed… Belle and Adam wouldn't have sold the children of their enemies into slavery… but he would have been her king. Not her slave.
If she didn't know who he was, why had she wanted him?
Mal stepped forward to palm the announcer the rest of her cash and then gestured for several big, strong men to step forward and loose his chains. The announcer continued on to Lonnie, who was looking very pale, as Ben was led away. He never got to see who she went to. Mal didn't follow either. In fact, she didn't even look back for him, only continued wandering around the courtyard and looking at all the other slaves.
"Hey," Mal appeared at the door of the empty cell he'd been thrown in about ten hours ago.
He blinked up at her. "Hey," he replied. Now that he'd seen her in real life, her dream form seemed very fuzzy, like he was looking through glasses that weren't his prescription.
Mal didn't even glance at their new surroundings as she sat beside him. "You look like… oh, how should I put this? Like the person who killed your goldfish brought it back to life before killing it again and repeating the process a few dozens times and now you're just in an emotional state of 'why'."
Ben took a little breath that was meant to be a snort and kept on staring at her face. Her angular nose… her sharp cheekbones. She still seemed too good to be anything more than a vision, but he'd seen her. She'd been real.
Mal brushed her left eyebrow a little and gave him an odd look. "Hello in there?" She asked sarcastically. "What're you thinking about?"
Ben got from his butt to his knees and leaned in, examining her eyes. Though foggy, they were the same eyes he'd seen from across the courtyard today. He shook his head as Mal withdrew a little. "You bought me today," he whispered.
"I did?" Mal wondered. Ben saw something steely behind her gaze.
"You did," he affirmed. "And you kept my friend safe. Thank you."
Mal scowled. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she declared, getting to her feet. Ben shook his head and sat back down against the wall.
"No, you do," he whispered and watched the steel behind her eyes go even harder.
In real life, the cell was cold and quite dark. A bright orange light was lit at the end of the hallway where a Guard sat, playing on his phone and standing up every so often to walk up and down the hall. Ben wasn't the only one in there. He shared the cell with two other wizened people, neither of whom he knew because they both came from the citizenry, not from the Heroes. Across the hall was someone who had feebly asked Ben a few questions about how things were back home. He'd left last year and the four people who had been purchased with him were all gone. This year, it looked like Ben was the only paid-for prisoner. The rest were people who'd broken Maleficent's laws or tried to arrange small uprisings or protests.
"How long do people usually last here?" Ben asked one who looked more personable in a whisper as he watched dew from the ceiling gather into droplets and fall to the floor.
The burly, bearded man shrugged. "Depends," he whispered. "She's still got a minion or two from the old times. If you stay under her radar, she don't seek you out. Shortest person lasted two days. Longest is still here. Most typically fizz out after eight or nine months.
"Does she eat people?"
"Sometimes. Only in dragon form or in special cases. Well… there was this one time… never mind."
"And this is the High Palace?" Ben wondered.
"Yeah. Beast's old place. They rent the rooms out and we do the upkeep. Maleficent lives on the entire bottom floor."
"And the purple-haired girl is her recruiter?"
People across the hall snorted as Ben's companions exchanged helpless looks. "Sure, kid," the person who'd been talking to him nodded. "Close enough."
"Does she come down often?" He wondered.
"Not really," the man shook his head. "No one's really sure what she does. All the higher-ups know her, though."
"Weird."
A drop of water fell from the ceiling. A sneeze began to tickle his throat. He wrinkled up his nose. "Ah-choo!" He exploded, and three soft "bless you"s came from down the hallway. The light down the hall suddenly seemed very bright. Ben sniffled and closed his eyes. A short nap. A short nap was all he needed.
"Could you wake me up if anyone comes down?" he whispered.
"Sure, kid," the same gruff voice as before assured him. "Get some rest."
The world was still foggy when he left dreamland. Someone was shaking him. The world was very, very cold and his head was very, very warm. His nose was plugged and his frame was shaking and he couldn't stop it.
"Hey, kid!" someone called to him. Their voice sounded distant. Ben tried to pry open his eyes but one seemed to be glued shut and the other couldn't focus on anything. A headache began banging on the inside of his brain. "Listen, I know you're out of it, but you gotta get up because someone's coming down the stairs now."
"Guys, quit. He's wasted. Best thing to do now is to let them take him."
What did that mean? Where were they taking him? Why? Ben opened his mouth and a delirious, pain-ridden moan escaped.
"Ah, shoot. Look at him. Poor kid can't even move. He's done."
The door at the end of the hall opened. Ben scrubbed his fingers along the floor, trying to lift his head a little as he heard footsteps. Someone was speaking to the guard at the end of the hall. A cell door opened, followed by loud talking that made his ears ring. His left ear felt like it had been filled with a load of hot air. His hearing from it was fuzzy, like he was underwater.
Someone stopped in front of the cell. Ben glimpsed purple boots. "What's wrong with him?" someone achingly familiar snapped.
"We don't know, Lady Mal," one of his cellmates whispered. "He's been asleep for a long time. Maybe he just needs to-"
"He's sick, you moron," the other snapped. "He started running a fever after he was dropped off. Kid's been a furnace since then."
There was a long moment of silence. The cell door opened, and Mal barked: "Out. You'll be in the courts today. I'll get someone to come down and get him."
What did that mean? Was he being thrown out? Were they going to wait for him to die?
The other men stumbled out and the last few cell doors were opened while Ben's was left hanging ajar. Mal gave orders to everyone. Before she could go back out past the guard, though, she slipped back into Ben's cell. He was lying in a half-curled heap against the wall of the cell, shivering face-down with his legs bracing himself against the ground. She rolled him over. She was either exceptionally strong or he was embarrassingly light. He was starving, so maybe the second option held some faith.
She brushed black off his face and frowned as she examined him. He examined her right back. Her green eyes held something there… worry. That was a look he hadn't seen before. He sneezed and then coughed and then whispered with a lot of heavy breathing in between words: "You look like someone killed your goldfish."
For a second, Mal looked angry with him. Then, he watched her draw a mask over those emotions until all he saw was false confusion. She stood back up. "He's delirious!" She told the guard, who was standing at the doors with the keys in his palms. "Useless. I'll send someone down for him in about ten minutes. Just stay here and guard him." The man nodded and said nothing while Ben groaned and curled into a heap. His left eye was throbbing and swollen closed. His left ear had started to thrum with pain. Just his luck that he'd get sick right off the bat.
It seemed like eternities before Mal returned with a complaining boy behind her. Ben recognized the boy – it was Jay, again. The boy whose father ran a store. The boy who had taken Audrey. He kicked Ben's arm to make him unfurl it and then hefted up his shoulders. Mal took his feet. They bickered down the hall, though Ben's head hurt too much to discern the conversation. He only recognized when Mal's tone went from joking and patronizing to commanding and serious.
"No, Jay, we're not taking him to the coffins yet."
"Mal, he's wasted. It hasn't even been three days yet and he's gone. Doesn't matter who he is – he's gonna die eventually. It'll be better for him like this."
"No, Jay."
"Then what? Medical center? If your mom hears you took a servant there, she'll go dragon. Or are you just gonna toss him into a dumpster somewhere?"
"Up here."
He was carried for what felt like months. Jay's hands were rough and unforgiving in his shoulders. Mal's were sturdy and steadying on his ankles. Finally, he heard Jay give an incredulous laugh and then a door opened.
"Over here," Mal commanded.
"The bed?" Jay snorted. Ben couldn't find the strength to open his eyes and see what he was talking about. "Listen, Mal, I respect your feelings, but don't you think he's a little too sick to be fun?
"Just leave him here," Mal snapped. Ben felt them heft him up higher and then drop him onto something that immediately gave way a few inches under his weight. He moaned as he felt the liquids in his ear shift.
"He's a mess," Jay snickered. "How long do you think he'll last?"
"Pay attention," Mal snapped. She lowered her voice dramatically. "If anyone asks, I lent him out to EQ. She's so busy looking at her own face that she'll never know if he was there or not. The fact he's here doesn't go beyond you or I, got it?"
"I don't get it, Mal," Jay sighed. "What's so special about him?"
"He was going to be king," Mal replied flatly. This response only made Jay laugh even more.
"So what? It's not like he has any power now. Barely anyone knows him."
"I don't want him turning into a rebellion. If word happened to get out… I don't want more drama."
"Hmm. Sure."
"What?"
"I think you think he's hot."
"Oh, yes, because ear infections and fevers are very attractive." He could feel Mal rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Just keep this all on the down-low and you and I won't have any trouble."
"You know, you wouldn't be the first person to buy someone for enjoyment. Just sayin."
"Get out, Jay."
The door closed. All was silent. Then, a burning hand passed over Ben's forehead. He moaned again and heard Mal mutter "as if" under her breath before she walked away. He heard water running. A cool cloth was laid over his forehead, and another over his neck. A third wiped gingerly at the stuff gluing his eyes shut before Mal tilted his head to the side to examine his ear. An infection, she'd said. That was certainly an idea, but he must have something else wrong with his eye.
They didn't say anything to each other. Ben fell back asleep soon after.
A collection of items sat on the table. Notably, a cooling broth that was probably the thing that had woken him up. Ben groaned and wrestled the sheets binding him to the bed until he'd managed to get his elbows underneath him. Someone took his shoulder and a hand appeared on his cheek. It wasn't a pale hand – it was someone tan with manicured hands. A pair of blue eyes swam into his vision.
"Can you hear me?" The mystery person asked.
Ben let out an incorrigible moan and dropped his head back into the mattress. The mystery person pulled him back up and helped him to roll onto his back. Ben realized, at some point during this exchange, that she was a female. "Can you eat anything?" She asked.
"Maybe?" His voice and lips cracked with the effort of moving. His ear thrummed as he groaned.
"Well, we need to get something into you. When was the last time you ate?"
"Don't 'member."
She brushed off his eyes with a cloth and muttered under her breath. He didn't pay attention as she tossed the rag out and then slowly hefted him up into a half-sitting position. Then, the door opened, and Ben groaned as a bunch of new voices clouded his fuzzy ears. When he heard Mal snapping over the other voices, he balled his fists up in the sheets and tried to sit up, opening his eyes as he did. The world was still swimming, but he could see more clearly now that the new girl had wiped his eyes off. He could see that she had vibrant blue hair – which immediately gave him a name. Evie, Mal's best friend, had blue hair. Across the room, he saw a blur of purple heading towards them.
"He's awake?" Mal asked, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes lit up a little to keep his attention easier as she seized his chin and examined his eyes.
"Yeah, but he's out of it," Evie affirmed. "I was going to try and get him to drink this."
"Are you still taking care of him?" Someone shouted from across the room. "Geeze, Mal, just let him die."
Ben managed to catch Mal's hand as she took it away from his chin. He squeezed her hand, but Mal yanked it away. "Do you need help?" She asked Evie.
"Maybe?" Evie shrugged. "He seems to respond pretty well to you."
"No idea why," Mal disregarded the statement. Ben sank back into a pile of pillows that had been put underneath his head. Evie hummed and brushed her hand over his forehead. Her touch felt too cold, though he was starting to shake with cold. She turned, took the bowl, and held it to his lips as Ben closed his eyes again. The other people who had come with Mal were fighting in the back of the room.
"Go slow," she commanded, though it was hard. His stomach pinched. If he'd been in the cell for three days before being brought here, then this could be, at the very least, his fourth day not eating anything. No wonder he felt like crap.
"Thank you, Evie," Ben mumbled when he was finally left sitting back into the pillows.
"You're welcome," Evie said on reflex, then stopped. The rest of the room went still. Then, someone with a quiet voice started speaking.
"Did you tell him your name?"
"No," Evie shook her head. "Um, uh, kid? Hey, we're going to let you lie down on your front again so I can check that ear of yours."
Ben nodded and feebly attempted to help her budge the pillows aside, soon, he was lying flat again. It occurred to him that Mal was no longer standing beside the bed as Evie pulled out a little light and began to peer inside his ear. She took a bottle of eardrops from the nightstand and quickly treated his ear. Ben let out a sigh of relief as the pain ceased in his ear. Evie chuckled and took a seat beside him on the bed so she could keep checking on him. He moved his hand to pat hers where it landed beside his head and then wrenched his head up to peer at Evie. "Where's Mal?" he whispered.
Evie's brow knit together in confusion. "She went to hang up her coat," she said slowly, glancing over towards the door. "She'll come back in a moment."
Ben shook his head and buried his face into the sheets beside her leg. "She's not so angry when we're asleep," he mumbled against her leg. "She's got a pretty laugh."
Something thudded to the ground across the room and Evie took a deep, panicked breath. Ben couldn't bring himself to care about it much as he closed his eyes. Dreams were easier. Dreams made more sense.
Mal seemed tense and angry in this dream. She forced her smiles and kept her hands in her pockets. Ben could tell they were balled up in tight fists.
"I haven't seen you in a while," Mal said through clenched teeth. "You went away."
"You've seen me in real life," Ben shrugged in dismissal. "You can pretend, but I know."
Mal blinked as if she didn't understand what he was saying. "What are you talking about?" She asked.
Ben shook his head and glanced around the room. It was large, with white walls and generic flower paintings hanging on the walls. The bed he had been lying in the last few days had no headboards, white sheets, and a brown cover. It looked like a place someone would come to stay for a few days before leaving. There was a tiny kitchenette hidden in a little alcove, and three large closets around the room. An open door showed a bathroom that was mostly hidden from sight.
"This is nice," he complimented her. "I never got to ask – is this your room?"
Mal's face twisted before she drew a mask back over her emotions. "I don't understand," she said. "We always go to your place."
Ben snorted. "Listen, I appreciate how you're now pretending you're a figment of my imagination, but I know you. I know the faces you make. You can't hide from me."
Nothing. Not a flicker of recognition, of guilt, or anything. In hindsight, he shouldn't have expected one. She was as stubborn as he was.
"Besides," he continued. "You expect me to believe that you can tell me about Evie, your best friend, in our dreams and have that information remain true in real life, but you can't understand the concept of your room because you're now an imaginary person?"
Again, Mal didn't react. She only hummed and took a seat on a wooden desk, kicking her boots off her feet and onto the floor. "So, what's been new with you?" she asked.
Ben didn't buy the bait. "You already know," he whispered. "But I'll play your game. Let's see how long you can go without slipping up."
When he woke up, he was alone, but he could tell that someone was nearby. Ben reached up and brushed his eyes. They were no longer crusty and hard. When he opened his eyes, the world was bright but clear. His ears both felt like they'd been popped. He brushed his fingertips over his earlobes. The sound still felt underwater and they ached, but the worst of it was behind him. Now he was just exhausted.
A gentle hand brushed across his back. "Hello?" Mal asked cautiously, in a guarded tone. "Can you hear me okay?"
"Yeah," Ben affirmed, curling his head further into the sheets.
"Can you eat anything?" She asked, taking her hand away. He mourned the light, warm touch as his stomach pinched again.
"Yeah," he repeated and slowly sat back up. He heard Mal walk away. By the time he'd managed to get up and turn around, she'd turned with a tray of simple foods. A flask of broth, crackers, some mashed potatoes, and noodles. She set it down on the nightstand and crossed her arms as she waited for him to finish wrestling his legs out of the twisted sheets. She didn't attempt to help him as he took the broth first and starting sipping that. It was probably best to not try to eat too much right off the bat.
"How long-" he started to ask before his throat constricted and he had to stop to block off a cough. Luckily, Mal got the message.
"You've been up here for four days. Your fever broke the second day, but you've still been waking up every once in a while to talk to us and then fall back asleep." She walked back to the desk where she'd been sitting in his dream, kicked out the chair, and then sat on the tabletop whilst propping her feet into the chair. "Do you remember anything?"
Ben closed his eyes as he sipped on his broth and then slowly moved so he could put his legs over the side of the bed. "I remember someone with blue hair. And you were angry at her." He glanced over for affirmation.
Mal's mouth quirked up at the corners. "I wasn't angry. That's just my face."
"It's just your act," Ben corrected.
Mal frowned. "I don't think it's your place to define my emotions for me, Ben," she reprimanded. "I don't know how awake you are, but you're still a prisoner. Your parentage might keep you alive for a while, but don't expect to have any power around here."
Ben rolled his eyes, which immediately brought on a headache. Mal pinched her lips at him. He closed his eyes again. "Most of it is foggy though," he admitted, quickly forming a little scheme in his head. "Someone was saying you should throw me out… people kept touching my eyes and my ears. You said you hadn't met me before."
Mal tilted her head in thought. "Jay wasn't sure you'd make it out of your dip." She chewed on her lip and Ben knew she, too, had been worried. "He was the one who said we should just cut our loses. You had an ear infection, which is why you came down with your fever and everything so quickly. It's pretty common among the hicks. Your bubble has a very different pressure and coming from there through the trucks and into the city isn't good for them." She opened her mouth to continue, then a dark shadow crossed her face and Ben knew she'd caught his trick. "You also had an eye infection. I don't remember the last one. Must have been someone else watching you."
"How many other people have purple hair and glowing green eyes?" Ben countered. "And, by the way, do your eyes really glow, or is it just the gold flecks catching the light?"
Mal scowled. Her eyes took on a glow-in-the-dark look like lightning was flashing inside of them. Ben watched, entranced, until she let the light die. "That's very beautiful," he complimented her.
Mal wrinkled her nose. "Keep your thoughts to yourself," she snapped.
"You don't need to be so indignant," Ben told her.
For a moment, Mal's expression softened. She tilted her head to the side and let out a little breath as she watched him. He watched her right back until she blinked and snapped out of it. She hopped off the desk and walked to the door, where a purple coat with leathery black wings was hung.
"Wait!" Ben called, pushing himself off the bed and struggling a little as the world tilted to the right. Mal appeared at his side, wide-eyed, to shove him back down.
"Are you insane?" She snapped. "You've been sick for a week and haven't eaten in almost a full day. Stay here and eat your crap and don't try to get up!"
"Where are you going?" Ben demanded, trying to take hold of her arms. "I wanted to ask… is this your room? Where am I? Where can I find you?"
"You won't be finding me!" Mal snapped, shoving his hands away and pinning them to his side until he stopped struggling. Ben stared. Her harsh tone kinda… stung. She took several deep breaths and then ripped her hands off him. He didn't move except to poke his lower lip out a fraction. Mal watched him. Her gaze kept him as firmly pinned as her hands had.
"I want you to stay here," she murmured finally to break the awful, awkward, entrenching silence that had seized them both. "If you come looking for me, bad things will happen. Finish your food and if you feel well enough, go shower. If not, stay here." She turned and started to walk away again.
Ben's hands shook. "Mal?" he called, squinting through his headache. She stopped but didn't turn around. "Where am I?" he asked.
Mal glanced over her shoulder. "You're in the palace," she informed him softly, zipping up her jacket. "Maleficent is two floors down. This is the room always set aside for me."
"Your room?" Ben looked around. It was very white and very standard and not very… Mal. "It doesn't look like yours."
"I said it was set aside for me. I never said I lived here," Mal replied flatly. "Now, I have somewhere I need to get to." She tugged open the door and Ben had enough sense to not call after her while the door was open. She disappeared to the outside and Ben didn't move to follow her, though everything in his body ached to bring her back.
He managed to eat the potatoes before his headache grew too painful and he had to lie back down. With a mostly-full stomach and a half-clear head, he fell back into dreamland.
Mal flinched when he reached for her. He took her chin carefully, and she seemed even more repulsed. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked. "Why are you touching my face?"
"I'm just looking at your eyes," Ben assured her. He hummed as he traced his thumb down her jawline. He had never really touched Mal in his dreams. Only the occasional hug or handshake. Once he'd kissed her cheek and she'd been so offended(they were fourteen, the epitome age of awkwardness) that she'd tripped off his front porch and tumbled into his mom's mostly-empty flowerbeds and hadn't spoken to him the next time they'd dreamed of each other.
"That's disgusting," Mal grumbled, trying to tug her face back. "You're such a sap."
"You have a thing for saps," Ben guessed, distracted while he was trying to focus on her eyes. "I'm just trying to see if there're any differences between you here and you in the real world."
"Are there?" Mal asked sarcastically, relaxing a tad as she gave up her fight.
"I can't see any," Ben hummed, caressing the side of her face and then cupping her cheek. Mal seized his wrists.
"Okay!" She squeaked. "That's enough – enough contact! No more touching!"
Her high-pitched squeak finally ripped him out of his examinations. He smirked and let her go only to grab one of her hands instead. Mal's face turned beet-red. "Mpf!" she exclaimed, trying to tug her fingers away from him. He laughed and yanked her entire frame forward into his grasp, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up off the ground.
"No!" Mal protested, kicking her feet back and forth. "No, no, no! Put me down! Benjamin Florian, put me down right now!"
"You're so small!" Ben cackled. "Mal Bertha, merciless midget extraordinaire."
"Benjamin Florian, if you don't put me down right now then I'll-" she hissed and angled her kicks at his knees. He laughed and dropped, as per her request. She tumbled to the ground with another hiss. Then, hands braced behind her as if she were about to crab-walk away, she bared her teeth with a snarl.
Ben raised his eyebrows and resisted the urge to either burst into laughter or lean down and tickle her sides. "Ferocious," he snorted. "You're almost as mean as your real-life self."
Mal's face twisted in confusion. "Is my real-life self mean?" She asked.
Ben rolled his eyes. There wasn't any infallibility in her acting, but he still didn't believe her. "You try to be. I bet if you let me touch you, you'd probably be just as soft as you are here." He reached for her hair as if he was going to pet her head, but Mal dodged out of his way and hissed at his fingers. He snorted and rolled his eyes.
"So, if I exist in your world, am I a figment of your imagination, or have I just expanded on your purpose in my head?" Mal wondered.
Ben scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous," he commanded. "I know you're the same person you are when we're both awake. Neither of us are conjurations. You know you know me. I don't know why you're pretending."
Mal's face remained blank. A sick, twisting feeling arose in Ben's stomach. She was a very, very good actress.
"Does she know about me?" Mal asked, getting to her feet and brushing herself off. "Like, that you dream with me?"
"Mal," Ben snapped. He had enough headaches when he was awake – he didn't want any in his dreams. "Be quiet."
All was quiet when he woke up. Light was coming in through a half-open window. The fog was gone from his head.
Ben sat up slowly, testing his strength, and found more food had been left for him on the nightstand. He ate slowly, not wanting to overexert himself, and when it all stayed down and his headache didn't worsen, slowly climbed out of the bed. He waited beside it, holding on for balance until his feet got used to standing again and he could let go. Then he pulled the covers straight as best he could. They probably needed to be washed – he couldn't imagine how filthy they must be after he'd been lying there for over four days and the first day being spent with a high fever. Mal had said she didn't live here, and he hoped that meant she wouldn't be needing this bed.
He managed to make it to the bathroom with only two dizzy spells. He shut and locked the door so that he could shower and looked around. The bathroom was gigantic. Maybe only a few square feet smaller than his room at home. At home, they didn't have bathrooms attached to their homes. Three families shared one outside bathroom and they rotated whose turn it was to clean weekly. Ben supposed that here, it was done by minions, servants, or slaves like him.
He couldn't find any clothes but he did find one large, grey bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. His clothes were filthy – they were still the same clothes he'd left home in. Flattened against his stomach was the cloth with the pancakes that he hadn't been able to eat. With a disappointed sigh, Ben turned the stale cakes into the trash but brushed his fingertips over the cloth. This was something from home. Something his mom had given him. He still wanted it. So instead of tossing it out, Ben filled the sink with water, scrubbed it back and forth in his hands a little, and left it to soak.
Someone knocked at the door. "Ben?" Evie called from outside. "Are you in there?"
Ben immediately unlocked the door and offered the blue-haired girl a smile. Behind her, he saw Mal's shoulders fall in relief as she abandoned what he assumed was a search for him beside her bed. "Hi, Evie," he whispered. "I'm right here."
"Are you going to shower?" Evie asked, glancing at the few unbuttoned buttons of his shirt. "We brought you some new clothes."
"Oh?" Ben asked, taking a step forward. Mal snatched a pile off the bed and balled them up to throw to him. He caught them as she turned away flippantly, still incensed over his disappearance.
"Shoes by the door!" She snapped and began to fiddle with things on the desk. Evie exchanged careful looks between the two then nodded and turned away as well. Ben set part of the pile down beside the door – the socks and pants – and unfolded the shirt.
"Woah," He gasped, spreading out the short-sleeved, knit article. "It's blue!"
Mal and Evie both looked over at him in confusion as he held up the article with an increasingly bright smile. "I've never had anything blue before," he confessed. "I've only seen it in books."
"The sky is blue," Mal furrowed her brow. "And so is water."
Ben shrugged sheepishly. "We, uh, have a barrier. And the barrier makes the sky look green. And we don't have blue water."
"There's no lakes or anything inside the barrier, M," Evie reminded Mal as she began peeling back the covers of the bed. "Water only turns blue in large amounts. You have to have a certain amount because then the light is distorted when it enters it. When the light is distorted, color scatters through it and it appears blue."
"Really?" Ben asked, glancing over at her. "Water can be blue? Ours is usually brown or grey."
Evie paused and stared at him, looking very sad. "Yeah, it can be. Maybe one day you'll see a lake or something."
Ben looked down at the shirt in his hands. "Is it this kind of blue?" he asked.
"No," Evie shook her head. "That's a brighter blue. Sometimes the sky is that color."
"Go shower, Ben," Mal reminded him, taking the chair from the desk and shoving it aside. Evie nodded her encouragements, and so Ben turned and shut the door again.
Once inside, he had another revelation. The water here could be controlled by two knobs. One knob made the water come harder and the other made it come hotter. And it was clear, not grey or brown. It made sense since they were in the palace, but it was still an incredible feat.
Ben fiddled carefully until he found the perfect temperature in between 'Cool breeze' and 'standing in the sun'. Another few minutes were devoted to finding that perfect patter between 'soft downfall' and 'being covered with a blanket'.
The pajama pants had a woven pattern printed onto the fleece they were made of. They, too, were blue, but a much darker blue than the shirt. And they had gold boxes on them. He liked gold. Gold looked like sunshine.
Ben found a brush for his hair and rinsed his mouth out with some mouthwash he found on top of the toilet before finally opening the door and stepping back out. Mal was nowhere to be seen. The room smelled vaguely of aerosol when he stepped out. He wrinkled his nose as his headache returned full-force.
Evie had switched the sheets out to be blue and the comforter, which had also been taken away, was now white. Mal was standing on the desk to be tall enough to paint on the wall above the desk. The formerly blank wall was now covered in muted green, grey, and blue streaks with tape blocking off the bottom part of her project on different levels. The space already looked more like hers. He could almost convince himself he was in Mal's – his literal dream girl's – room with that stuff on the wall.
Mal looked over at him as he sat back down on the bed, wrinkling his nose. She nodded her approval at his still-damp hair and new clothes. Ben resisted the urge to fall over in the fumes and twisted his shirt hem in his hands. The blue color was crazy to him.
"What other colors haven't you seen?" Mal asked, drawing a blue streak into her hazy mess.
Ben shrugged. There were certain colors that he knew simply didn't exist much in nature. Orange, pink… but he happened to live in a dry climate where those colors were present in the surrounding rocks. Yellow he knew from the sunlight and flower centers and yes, from the rocks around his home. Green was the barrier and the weeds that grew on the sides of the roads and was often pictured with wide grassy expanses in children's books. Blue… the spines of books, and that was about it. It seemed to be a favorite color of the children outside the barrier, so blue was never sent in with any crayon or marker packages. Purple was another rare color, but Ben had grown up with purple. He had suspected, at first, when Mal first began appearing to him, the reason she had purple hair was because he had wanted to see some splash of that rare color. He would admit to trying to focus on switching her eyes to blue at one point when he was fifteen and feeling particularly miserable. He'd gotten sick of looking at the green of the barrier during the day and then seeing the same shade in his dreams at night.
Ben got up with a little difficulty, as the air was thicker around her, and caught a lock of her hair. Mal whipped around, stealing her hair back as she turned, and shoved him back. "What do you think you're doing?" She demanded.
"Purple," Ben gasped, pausing to cough as he landed back on the bed. "Purple."
Mal's eyes softened, but she kept her arms crossed and stance rigid. "Listen, let's set some boundaries here," she declared. "You do not get to touch me. You do not get to demand things of me. I'm still irritated by the fact you're using my name to address me. I get that being in this space has probably messed with your head, but you're still a prisoner here and the moment I'm sure you won't collapse again, you'll be back with the others."
Ben managed to stop coughing long enough to give her a hurt look. "You know me, Mal," he whispered.
"No, I don't!" Mal snapped. "I don't know what's got you so delusional, but I have no idea who you are outside of your parents."
"I know you know me!" Ben snapped back. "Can – can we open a window?"
Mal snapped her fingers and the two windows on either side of the bed whisked open. Every argument in Ben's throat died.
"How would I know you?" Mal demanded, oblivious to his shock. "How would I know anyone inside of the bubble?"
"You have magic?" Ben cut her off. "I didn't know that about you."
Mal rolled her eyes. "What do you know about me?" she snorted. "You've been here for a little over a week and conscious for about four hours as a whole, not counting that first half-hour, around me. What makes you an expert?"
"Our dreams," Ben told her, getting back to his feet. "Don't lie to me! I know you have them too. That's why you picked me in the marketplace. That's why you're so sensitive about me!"
"Are you mad?" Mal demanded, shoving him back. She looked bewildered and sick. "I picked you because you were strong and pretty – you're a toy for us to mutilate."
"Which is why I'm up here," Ben gestured around him. "Which is why you're taking care of me and trying to keep me alive."
"I didn't realize who you were!" Mal hissed.
"That's a lie," Ben sniffed. "You know me."
"You're delusional, still," Mal drawled. She turned away. "Just go back to bed. You still aren't thinking right."
"You want to believe that," Ben snapped. "You want to believe that this is all just me being insane because if we did have connected dreams – if what you know you saw is real – then there has to be something behind it. Something that connects you to me."
"You want the truth?" Mal snapped, and her tone was so brutal and honest that it made Ben stop and tilt his head. She turned back to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and pushed him down onto the bed. "I had no idea who you were when I picked you," she told him, slow and tone steady. "And if we send your parents the note you died less than a month after taking you, then the bubble folk will start suspecting outright murder and it'll make the entire process that much harder. You got put here because Maleficent doesn't want prisoners in the medical ward while other patrons are there. So shut up and stop assuming things about me. I have no idea about any dreams. I never saw you before I paid for you."
"You lie," Ben shook his head, searching out her face for any hint of a give. There wasn't any. She was completely serious and nothing in her tone betrayed a hint of dishonesty. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Well, if you choose to keep believing that, then it's your problem," she sighed. She sounded annoyed and exasperated like she just couldn't understand what he was trying to accomplish. Like he was the villain trying to confuse her. "Whatever. Just… keep your weird fantasies to yourself. I don't need to get pulled into them."
She turned away to continue painting. Ben sat still on the edge of the bed. For the first time… he was considering the implications if she didn't know what he was talking about. If her fascination with him at the auctioning had been because of his looks or something. After all, that had been Jay's theory. '
If she didn't know him, then she probably thought he was insane or obsessed with her. Which he might be. After all, how could you dream about a girl for more than half your life without ever knowing her only to discover she was real? Was it possible he'd seen a photo or something of her and his mind had conjured her up? But he would have had to have multiple photos… she had grown up beside him and looked exactly like her dream self with the added sense that she was physical.
Was it also possible that maybe… not all of the times that she'd appeared to him, they'd been communicating? Maybe she'd had a dream or two of him when she was younger, forgotten him after a while, and had only taken an interest in him because he was familiar?
Ben scooted back onto the bed and collapsed back onto the place he'd been resting for the last few days. "Am I still allowed to be here?" He wondered aloud.
"Not for much longer," Mal said in her stone-hard tone over her shoulder. "But for now? Sure." She paused, then turned around to him. "So, you said you'd dreamed of me, yeah?"
"I did," Ben agreed. "Not every night. But we talked. You grew up with me."
"What, was I your favorite wet dream?"
"No, never anything like that," Ben shook his head. Sure, he might have wondered things in the daytime, but never too far and nothing ever surfaced in his dreams. He'd always felt that it was wrong to see people like that. Using their bodies – their images – in ways that they would probably condone just wasn't right. "But I know things about you. I know you skip all your classes except for art."
It'd always hurt him when she'd talk about how much school bored her. He'd have given anything to go to school…
"I know that you shattered your kneecap trying to climb an elephant on your fifth-grade trip but you walked on it for the rest of the day so no one would know what you'd done."
Ben had never seen an elephant. She'd tried to describe one to him, and he'd tried to find one in a book to no avail. They were grey, with big ears, and large, but that was all he knew.
"I know you hated your purple hair in middle school and dyed it bright green instead."
That was the thing that had stopped Ben trying to imagine Mal with blue hair instead of purple. He'd missed the purple so fervently that he'd immediately ceased trying to imagine her with anything else.
Mal blinked at him slowly. She seemed mystified. She walked to the edge of the bed and picked up a water bottle, which she pressed into his hands. He assumed it was because he was because his eyes were drifting closed again as the last remnants of his headache turned into drowsiness and she wanted him to stay up. "So, you know who I am?" She asked softly.
"You're Mal," Ben deadpanned. "You're a smart aleck. You're sarcastic. You're my best friend." His eyes were feeling heavy again. He still wasn't 100% okay. Slowly, he put the water bottle back and laid back down on top of the covers.
"Do you know who I am?" Mal repeated, putting particular emphasis on the word "who". A sense of dread filled Ben. She had to be someone important to be recruiting for Queen Maleficent. He swallowed.
"Does it matter?" he asked.
Mal squinted. "No, it doesn't," she replied and turned away.
Ben reached out for her and managed to touch her elbow before she moved too far away. "Mal!" He called and then leaned to pull her sleeve. "Stay."
"Stay?" Mal sneered. "With you?"
Ben caught her hand and pulled. She resisted, but he kept a tight hold of her fingers until slowly, she sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, looking ridiculously disgusted. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to twist his body enough to lie his head on one of her legs. Then, keeping careful to not touch her in too much of a provocative manner, he started tracing his fingertips in lines up and down the outsides of her legs. Mal shivered and looked like she might jump away. When he didn't do anything else beside tickle little lines on her calves and knees, she relaxed a bit. Then, slowly, her balled fists relaxed onto the sheets beside her hips and she let him rest on top of her. Ben continued drawing tiny patterns up and down her legs.
"Evie might come back soon," Mal whispered. "She's bringing you more clothes."
"Is this just my room now?"
"You kidding? We'll both be murdered if Maleficent finds you here. The clothes are so you can go back to the dungeons."
Ben's hands stilled for a few seconds. He pictured the dark cells with the cold stones and the dripping water. "Okay," he whispered dejectedly. He'd already asked Mal for a lot… he couldn't ask her to put her neck on the line for him.
Ben wanted to stay as long as possible in this soft spot with Mal. He didn't want to have to deal with the violent, snarky side of her when he'd only known the sarcastic, sweet side for so long.
He took her hand again and tugged it close to his mouth before gently pressing kisses against each of her fingerpads. Mal's entire arm was tense as she watched him with her mouth pressed into a straight line. He kissed her palm and she let out a squeak of a chuckle that she immediately covered up with her other hand. Ben looked up at her, wondering if he should take the opportunity to tease her, but instead pressed his mouth even tighter to her palm, kissing the skin of her hand and fingers over and over.
"What are you trying to do?" She wondered aloud, finally. She sounded almost offended or possibly confused as he let his mouth wander and obsess over her calluses.
Ben didn't respond. He only pressed his lips, which were beginning to feel a bit sore, to the lines in her palm for a very long, still minute. If he responded, she might have wanted him to stop. He didn't want to stop. This whole thing felt so fragile and electrifying and real. It was like the moment you dropped a glass – it had already slipped past your fingers and was accelerating towards the floor. All he was waiting for was the shattering sound of invisible splinters soaring in all directions. He was waiting for the inevitable, messy pain.
Ben guided his mouth back and forth on her palms and knuckles and joints. The more he worked his mouth onto her skin, the sorer it felt. The more the muscles in his cheeks ached, the softer her skin became against them. The heat from her legs sank into his neck and as he turned to set his chin against her leg. She smelt like paint and work and that different scent that girls always seem to have that isn't flowery or naturous but still somehow marked them as women.
He took her other hand without releasing the first and treated it much the same way, kissing the hardened skin until his mouth knew every blemish, hard spot, and pore of skin on her hands. In a way, it's like he was just reminding himself, because he's looked at her so often before that there's no way he can't know what her skin is like.
When the fog in his brain became too thick for him to think through, he stopped and nuzzled his face into the side of Mal's leg. He took her hands and set them on top of his head, where the weight eased the hammering headache in his forebrain. A laugh escaped Mal from above him. A real laugh, like she usually gave him in their dreams. She started combing through his hair, playing with the locks, and it felt comforting. He lifted his head to peer at her for a second. Her cheeks still burned with blush and she avoided looking away from the hair atop his head, but she looked more relaxed than she had since he first saw her in the marketplace. With the white walls, the paint on her chin, her back against the headboard and his head buried in her leg, she looked like someone his age for once. Maybe even younger. Not the overbearing, cross dame who'd been snapping at him lately.
He must have been stressing her out; appearing out of nowhere, getting sick, and knowing her as well as he does.
"I like you like this," he murmured against her leg. "I like you calm."
Her fingers only hesitated for a moment before continuing to massage his scalp. He savored every minute. After all, she wouldn't be like this forever.