Entertainment

(Day 57: Sunday Evening)

When Ben sits down in his office chair he grabs a pen and notepad before glancing at the answering machine. Two hundred and forty-one. He sighs and opens the Diet Coke, and he takes a sip of the lime flavor before pressing the button on the machine.

"Ah, yes. I'm filing a complaint. Apparently someone in our government— I'm not going to say names— seems to think that breaking the law is okay. I'm going to suggest that that person either gives up that claim or resigns if they know what's good for them." Ben deletes the message. "King Ben, if you're getting this I'd just like to warn you that the things you've been doing lately aren't doing you any favors. Actually, if you look up your royalty stats you're now down to two stars… Not that that matters. It's just that you have some really good policies and I don't want to see you overthrown. Please. One guy to another, I know you're just trying to defend your girlfriend, but that video is clear proof of her crime. If you really want what's best for your country, you will drop this and focus on what really matters— your people."

Ben shakes his head before writing on the yellow paper, "Drop the case." and then marks down two tallies. Resign. He marks one tally next to it, before he continues on with the messages. After seven more of them he tallies six next to 'drop the case', and then he adds the word die on the next available line, placing a single tally next to it. Ben takes a large breath and then a gulp of his drink, before he continues on.

After another fourteen messages he has ten tallies added to the 'drop the case' row, three more to the 'resign' row, and one more added to the 'die' row, before message fifteen starts and he hears Doc's voice, "Yeah. King Ben. We're all a little confused down here. We've gotten two different letters with your royal seal on it saying two completely different things. Now, one is written while the other is typed, so I have a pretty good idea which came from you, but we would still like to hear from you to clear up this confusion. Are we getting a raise or not, or have you made a compromise with His Highness since we got these notices?" Ben hears indistinct murmuring in the background. "Yeah. Also, I'd like to remind you, King Ben, that the mining has gone very well this year, so if we don't get a raise then a bonus would be very appreciated. Uh, I hope you have a good day. Please get back to us at your earliest convenience. Thank you."

Ben furrows his eyebrows and mutters, "What did he do now?" before he looks up at the shut door. He shakes his head and then makes a note on the paper to talk with his father and to call the dwarves. He takes a stressed breath before picking up his drink, but when he does so he finds the can to be empty and has to open up the next one. Cherry. He shifts in thought and then opens a couple drawers, before he finds the glass, smiles, wipes the inside clean and then fills up the cup with half of each flavor. Cherry lime. He takes a drink of it and then nods in approval. He clears his throat before slowly commenting, "Next message." and then presses the button. His smile widens as he hears the family man, "Oh. You want me dead too? That's great. Just let me mark your complaint here on this sheet, and then I'll get right to it." before he frowns, presses delete, and then moves on to the next one.

"Yes. The crosswalks near the Auradon public middle school seems to be bugging out. It's been like that for about three weeks now. I thought someone else would have reported it by now, but apparently not. Can you get those fixed for us, please? I know you've been… busy. But this is really important. You better drop this nonsense you're doing and get it done." Ben marks a tally in the appropriate row before writing her complaint next to the one from the dwarves.

He deletes the message, but the following twenty aren't any better. Most of them don't even explain themselves. They just tell him to resign or drop dead without reason. They probably assume I know the reason. He picks up his drink, "Well. They aren't wrong." before he finishes it off and looks for a new can; however, he can't find one. He shakes his head, slams the glass onto the wood, and then plays the next message only to hear an elderly woman rant. Ben furrows his eyebrows at the answering machine, "I'm sorry, but I don't speak Spanish." before he moves his finger towards the delete button; however, then he hesitates, lets out a long breath, and takes out his phone instead.

After two rings Doug answers, "Hey, Ben."

"Hey. I'm in my office. I've got a message for you to translate."

"Let's hear it."

Ben puts his phone on speaker, moving it towards the machine, before he replays the message. The woman yells and talks very fast, but it still takes a full minute for it to end. He takes the call off silent and places the phone back up to his hear, "You get that?" Doug doesn't speak. "Hello?"

When he does speak it's slow in unsureness, "How many hateful messages have people left you?"

"This week?" Ben glances down at the large amount of tallies, "A fair few." Doug stays silent. "Why? How bad was it?"

"Well. I mean," Doug buys time. "I didn't exactly catch all of the words. But it was something along the lines of your girlfriend being executed and how that in her day you would have been burned at the stake. And that God as a special place of Hell for people like you."

"Yeah," Ben accepts. "Hybrids don't get into Heaven. We're the spawn of Satan."

"I think she's more referring to how you're defending your girlfriend."

"Yeah. I know," Ben evenly responds as he looks down at the paper. "So, would the tally go next to 'go to hell' or next to 'die'? Or both?"

"What?"

Ben places one next to both, "Don't worry. I've got it. Thanks for the help. Really. I couldn't have done it without you." and as he takes the phone from his ear, he can hear Doug urgently tell him to wait. Ben presses the button, and the call ends. He looks over at the answering machine, "Only a hundred and ninety-four messages to go. This is going to be fun." He lifts up the glass again, bringing it to his lips before he finds it empty and rolls his eyes. "Damn it." He slams it back down again, places his elbow on the desk, and runs a hand through his hair, before he looks forward and watches as the door slowly opens.

"Ben?"

He lets his arm fall, "Hi, Mom."

"You're late for dinner."

Ben looks down at his watch and lets out a breath, "Sorry." before he looks back up at her. "I was just trying to get through these messages."

"Well," she nods, "we've been waiting for you. Come and eat."

Ben scratches his forehead as he glances at the answering machine, "I can't. I need to listen to these."

"No, you don't. You need to eat," his mother firmly counters. "And it's family night. You're not skipping out again. We need to know what you've been up to."

"But—"

"But nothing," she interrupts. "Those messages will still be there when we're done. They can wait. We can't."

Ben takes in a deep breath and then slowly releases it through his nose, "Very well." before he stands and walks over to her.

She offers a concerned look, "You know, you scare me sometimes."

"What?" Ben softly questions, taking half of a step back.

"You just have this personality," she explains. "The kind that can run someone into the ground."

It takes Ben a moment to speak, "I don't understand."

His mother attempts to smile, "It's like you need to be perfect at everything, and you want to make everyone happy. Even if it causes damage to yourself."

Ben makes a noise, about to speak, but then he chooses different words, "I think it's more environmental than a personality. I'm sure that if I had less stress in my life, then I would have just turned out as some lazy jock." She gives him a look. "Oh! And I'm out of soda."

Her mouth drops, "Again? Weren't you just given six cases this week?"

Ben makes a face before justifying, "I've been stressed."

She looks over his shoulder and eyes the littered cans on the desk, "It would appear so." before she attempts to smile and guides him away from the office. "Come on. We shouldn't keep your father waiting."

When they make it into the kitchen Ben's father smiles, "There he is."

"Yes." Ben forces a smile, "Here. I. Am." before he sits down at the table.

"How was your week?"

Ben pours himself some milk, "Eventful." but his father continues to look at him. "I visited Mal in the hospital."

"The hospital?" he questions.

"Basically, she attempted suicide so that she could live. The jail wasn't taking care of her," he hurriedly explains, before he meets his father's eyes.

"I see," he comments as he scoops up some smashed potatoes with his fork.

Ben continues to look at him, "Why do you keep undermining my authority?"

"What?" his mother questions.

Ben turns to her, "He sent a letter to the dwarves, saying that they won't be having the raise I wanted to implement."

She looks at her husband, "Adam. We've talked about this. You need to let him make his own decisions."

"And make his own mistakes?" he frustrates. "This is the country, Belle, not some school project. He can't make any mistakes."

"I seem to remember you making plenty of your own mistakes," she counters.

Ben places a small amount of potatoes on his plate, as he father says, "Exactly. I made mistakes. Because I had no guidance and I was too young to rule, and you know what? Ben is too." Ben places some corn next to the potatoes. "He's too young to rule properly."

"You think so?" she raises her eyebrows at him.

Ben takes a piece of the turkey. "He's too idealistic and naive." He tears the turkey into small bits. "He doesn't think through anything." Ben takes some gravy and pours a little over the potatoes and turkey bits.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you on that last bit." He flattens out the potatoes with his fork and places a couple pieces of corn on top of it. "I think he thinks through things plenty."

Ben grabs his milk, "I think I'm done." and his parents turn towards him as he finishes off the milk. "May I be excused?"

His mother looks over his nearly emptied plate in disbelief, "How could you have finished so fast?"

"It's easy when I'm not the one talking," Ben frowns, and he glances between the two of them before asking again, "May I get back to work? I have a lot of messages to get through."

"Wait," his father holds a hand up. "You think you can rush through dinner and just leave? No. You're not getting out that easy." Ben merely observes him. "Tell us something more. Your friends. Your grades." He gives a concerned look, "How are your grades?"

Ben glances down, "Mostly A's."

"Mostly?" his father gives a look. "I expect you to be learning these things. These are very important classes you're taking."

"They're very important electives," Ben breathes, "but I have to take the requirements too. I'm taking ten classes in a five hour school day. Believe me, I've been trying."

His mother offers her concern, "I thought you finished all of the requirements last year."

"Apparently colleges don't like it when students stop studying a subject for two years," Ben mutters. "They think we will forget everything. So, a science, math, history, and English class is required every year, even if you do have all of the requirements taken care of."

"English is your second language," she reminds him. "You should be taking that."

"I know," Ben acknowledges. "I'm just saying that it's a requirement." He laughs, "So, even though I've technically finished the requirements, all that means now is that I'm getting stuck with a pre-college English literature class."

After a moment of silence his father questions, "Ten classes you said? Those are only four. What other ones are you taking?"

"You saw my report card last semester," Ben comments.

"I want to hear it from you," his father stares at him.

Ben looks down as he counts on his fingers, "Pre-College English Lit, Anatomy and Physiology for science, Atlantic Studies for history, Pre-Calculus for math, and then there's the ones you wanted me to take to prepare for rule: Communications, Intro to Law, and Intro to Sociology."

"That's seven," his mother counts. "What are the other three?"

"We're required to take a secondary language." He looks at his father, "And yes, I'm still sliding by and taking French instead of actually learning anything."

"The other two?" she quickly interrupts.

He turns back to her, "Intro to Psychology and some advanced health class dedicated to learning about drugs. I actually don't remember the name to that one."

"And why are you taking those?" his father firmly questions.

Ben gives him a look, "I just thought they'd be useful. Okay?"

"And that psychology class doesn't count as a science class?" she inquires.

Ben lets out a deep, slow breath as he looks over at her, "Neither do the health classes Chad wants to focus on. I'm not the only one getting screwed here. I assume they don't count, because the teachers don't want to risk us taking those instead of Anatomy or Engineering."

After a long minute his father comments, "I still expect you to do well in these classes. There's no point in having you take them if you're not going to bother learning from them."

"I know." Ben looks at him, "And I'll do better. I've just been distracted by everything."

"Your girlfriend," he assumes.

Ben quiets for a moment, just staring at him, "It's not just her." but when he notices his father shift at the accusation he backtracks. "I've been going through my own things."

"Now would be a good time to tell us about it," his mother prompts.

Ben glances down at the dirtied plate. There's so much he could say, so much he could tell them, but is it really a good idea? Is any of it even relevant? He looks up at his father before staring back down again. Some things are better left unsaid. "I'd rather just get back to work, listen to the people's complaints, and maybe— just maybe— solve some problems."

"Honey," his mother starts.

He looks up at her, "Please. There's still over a hundred messages, and school's tomorrow." He slightly shakes his head, "I have homework too."

She hesitates, "Alright."

Ben frowns as he nods, "Thank you." before he stands from the table. "Uh. Do we have anything else to drink?"

"I think you still have some flavored water in the fridge."

He nods, "Thanks." before he strides into the kitchen, takes a case of Propel out of the second fridge, and then sets a plate on top of it before heading back out to the dining area. He places some strips of turkey onto the plate, "Just something to snack on as I listen to the entertainment."

"The people's complaints aren't entertainment," his father stresses. "It's serious."

Ben looks at him for a moment before quietly stating, "Everything is serious. I just can't help but see it all as anything other than entertainment anymore." He huffs a partial laugh, "I could probably be taken hostage right now and see it as nothing more than a mild inconvenience and simply watch as it plays out."

"Honey."

He sees the sad concern in her eyes, "I've got work to attend to." before he nods down and turns to leave.

"He's so careless," Adam comments before taking a sip of his milk.

Belle looks at him, "Careless? Try depressed." She scrunches the cloth napkin in her hands, "Maybe we should let him see someone to talk to."

"No." Adam sits up straighter. "That's a bad idea. You need to stop thinking like that."

"But don't you see him?" she stretches an arm out to where he had exited.

"Look," Adam reasons. "We're his parents. If he needs someone to talk to, he should be coming to us. He shouldn't be trusting some stranger over us. He's our child."

"I understand that," Belle lets out in a soft breath, "but what harm could it do for him to have just one more person to confide in?"

"What harm?" he exasperates. "He could tell her things about himself— or us, even. People don't understand. They never have, and now you're suggesting to have him tell someone every little thing that's going on in his life, every secret that he has? Do you want this family to be torn apart?"

"No," Belle whispers. "Of course, not."

"Then stop suggesting this," he stresses, and he lets out a breath as he shakes his head. "You're usually so smart. How could you come up with a stupid idea like this?"

She's quiet for a second, "I don't know." before she glances down. "I just wanted what was best for Ben." She looks back up at him, "But you're right. The consequences are too great… It was a foolish idea."

"No," Adam shuts his eyes tight for a second. "I didn't mean it like that." They look at each other for a moment, before he continues, "It's great that you want what's best for Ben, but what if he does tell someone something he shouldn't? What if he tells the therapist about his medical condition? The people could find out. He could lose the throne."

"We could have the therapist sign a contract treating any divulging of information as treason. He or she would be legally bound not to say anything."

"Which is great, but you're forgetting something. Ben is a king," Adam emphasizes. "Things get leaked. Even if the therapist signs the contract, some reporter could go in and bug the area her and Ben would be speaking in. And there are just so many things he could say that would ruin us— ruin this family. One conspiracy and he could be taken from us. Do you understand that?"

Belle quietly states, "There's been plenty of conspiracies about us, Adam."

"But none of them involve our son," he stresses. "But if we do this, then there will be. Okay? And I'm not losing my son." He looks into her eyes, "I don't think you want to either."

"The chances of that are very low," she tries to reason. "We have a good lawyer, the castle is in your name, and Ben is king."

"And he's still going to be king, even if he's forced to live in some foster home or is taken in by some other royal family." He shakes his head, "That's not going to change. What will change is our family. It will be broken. And if you think Ben is stressed or depressed now, how do you think he would feel if he didn't have us in his life?" She doesn't speak, only looking at him. "He needs us. You know he does. Anyone else would kill him."

"He's old enough to tell them about his needs himself," Belle comments. "It wouldn't be like when he was younger and just did as he was told. He's his own person now."

"He's still only a child," Adam counters. "No one is going to listen to him. Maybe— just maybe— as a ruler, but as some kid trying to convince his adult caretakers of his needs? No. They wouldn't just let him take that medicine. They would be convinced that we weren't taking care of him and that he doesn't know what's best for himself. They would send him to the hospital, and assuming he's in a different kingdom he wouldn't have his doctor. He would die."

Belle lets out a sad breath, "I know you're right. I just— I hate to see him in so much pain. And the entertainment? If he truly sees the world like that, then he's dissociated himself from it. He needs help."

"Look," Adam reasons, "if Ben needs help, the only help he needs is from you. You're so good with him, and he's going to have an easier time talking with you than some stranger. If you really believe there's something going on with him, then I'm sure you can get through to him."

"You think so?" she skeptically inquires.

"Of course, I do." He places an arm over her shoulders, "You've done a good job raising him. So good in fact that I don't even think we need to worry about him. He's a fine, young man. And the things he's going through, it's not for nothing. It's for experience. Life can be tough sometimes, and he needs to learn that. You can't save him from that reality."

"I'm not trying to save him from that reality," Belle denies. "I'm trying to save him from himself. Like I saved you." He doesn't speak. "And you say you want him to earn experience and not be sheltered from reality, but aren't you sheltering him in your own way by not letting him implement the policies he wants to test out?"

Adam smiles, "You're so smart. Too smart for me." He nods. "Alright. You want me to give Ben a chance at this fantasy of his, then I will. But when the consequences from it come, I don't want you hugging him and telling him he only did what he thought was right."

"Fair enough." She partly smiles, "Thank you."

He nods once, "You're welcome."

- I am in no way promoting Diet Coke. Actually, I don't even really like it. It's nice that they even have lime as a flavor when no other dark pop seems to, but I just can't get past how dry it is. At least for me, it makes you a lot more thirsty the moment you start to drink it. It's terrible (not to offend anyone)... I may or may not get the lime one again, but in general I am Diet Cherry all of the way... Although, if I'm ever forced to go to a restaurant and if they have the magic pop machine (that can create literally any flavor) then I do add lime to it. Been a while, though. I hate going out to eat. It's probably the most stressful thing ever, even more so than when I have to deal with my dad... but that's another story entirely. AND, HEY. Can anyone guess what happens next? That's right! The trial begins! Stay turned.