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No.
Not nothing.
Ben thought of his dream of the island.
The Isle of the Lost. That’s what everyone called it, even his father.
He considered again what it would be like to live as they did, trapped underneath the magical dome, just as he was in his royal life.
They were prisoners, weren’t they? His father tried to pretend that they were not, but even Ben knew otherwise. They were exiled to the island by order of the king.
Just as Ben was able to live in the castle because he was the king’s son. And because my father loves me, Ben thought. And because I was born to this.
It was impossible to stop thinking about it.
He flinched.
“Ouch,” Ben said, as a needle poked him again in the armpit.
“Sorry, sire; forgive me sire.” Lumiere, who was measuring him for his coronation suit, quailed.
“Quite all right,” said Ben, who looked kingly, at least according to Lumiere, in the royal blue velvet suit with yellow piping. It had belonged to King Beast, who had worn it at his own coronation. “It was my fault—I moved.”
“Your mind is elsewhere, sire,” said Lumiere sagely. “As befitting a future king of Auradon.”
“Perhaps,” said Ben.
For a future king, he was surprised by how little he knew about the Isle of the Lost. How did the villains fare, beneath the dome? How did they live, eat, take care of themselves? How were their families? What were their hopes and dreams? What did they see when they stared out the windows of their own castle or cottage or cave?
Ben remembered he had heard that a few of them had children. Some would have to be his own age by now, wouldn’t they? He wondered how they dealt with living in the shadow of their infamous parents.
I imagine that for them, it’s a lot like this, he thought, staring down at his royal beast-head ring, the one just like his father’s. Wearing his father’s suit, fitted by his father’s tailor. Standing at the window of his father’s castle.
We’re all trapped. I’m as trapped as they are.
The more Ben thought about it, the more he knew it was true. He hadn’t chosen to be born a prince and become a king, just as they hadn’t chosen who their parents were. They were prisoners for a crime they themselves had not committed.
That was the greater crime, wasn’t it?
It’s not fair. It’s not our fault. We have no say in our own lives. We’re living in a fairy tale someone else wrote.
In that moment, Ben suddenly understood why it was that the sidekicks wanted more for their lives: because he found he wanted even more than that.
He wanted things to change, throughout Auradon.
Everything, he thought. For everyone.
Was that even possible? On the other hand, how could it not be? How could he possibly keep going with the way things were now?
Ben thought about it.
If he was going to be king, he would have to be himself, his mother had said. And he was different from his father. That was clear to everyone, even Lumiere. Ben would rule, but he would rule differently.
He would make different rules and proclamations.
His mind wandered again to the image of the purple-haired girl with the bright green eyes. The girl from his dream.
Who was she?
