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Ben has always known that he would be king. He’s been groomed for it for as long as he can remember. But when he was a little, it was discovered that traces of his father’s curse lingered, and could be passed down to his son. Ben was a bit too wild, a bit too quick to anger, a bit too beast .
And fearing the wider Auradon would not accept another beastly king, his father lowered the coronation age to 16 and cracked down on lessons Ben shouldn’t have had to learn until years later. At four, instead of playing outside, Ben was locked away in the library and tutored in law and policy.
Instead of running through the woods or play-fighting with the other prince’s, Ben was learning to meditate and swallow his beastly instincts like growls or purrs.
He was being groomed to take the crown, so Ben had to be perfect, and mature, and above his age, because Auradon already didn’t want a boy king, so they would accept nothing less than a perfect one.
At eight, he was allowed to play tourney for the first time, but even that came with strict lessons. It was expected of him to be good at it, and he was, but he must never let himself get lost in the spirit of the competition. He can be good , but he must not be too rough, or bare his teeth, or run too fast. He must be good, but not too good.
At 12, while the other boys his age were just beginning to get their first crushes, Ben had to think about the future of Auradon and finding a queen who could rule beside him. Audrey seemed the perfect choice, pretty and poised and under just as much pressure to be perfect from her grandmother as Ben was from his father. She would have been the next best candidate for the throne, if Ben weren’t there.
She already had a way of commanding the other royals their age, and he could easily see her stepping into the role of commanding councils.
Ben has always dreamed about the Isle, wondering if there were kids there, just like him. When he was younger, he wondered if they felt as trapped as he did in his stiff clothes and pinchy shoes. As he grew older, the clothes and the shoes became less troubling, the strict control on his instincts easier and more automatic, but he never stopped thinking about them. The kids on the Isle.
He wondered what lessons their parents taught them, while his dad taught him politeness and maturity and control over every aspect of himself.
Ben was raised to be king. What were they raised to be? He might not have a choice in his role, but he thinks he’s okay with that as long as he can make sure everyone else does.
So he created his first proclamation.
Ben realized that he had miscalculated within the first week of the Isle kids being in Auradon. He had thought that convincing the council and other students to give them a chance would have been the hardest part.
He had thought that the new class, Goodness 101, was a useless and somewhat insulting precaution. After all, everyone knows right from wrong. It’s up to the Isle kids to choose, now that they have a choice.
That was all before the first week, before he actually met an Isle kid. Before Mal’s trigger hair rage became as well known as who her mother is, before there was an uptick of missing items, before Carlos would bolt out of a classroom and lock himself in a closet for hours if someone walked too close to his chair.
Before Mal started having panic attacks in the hallway, and Jay started showing up with bruises, and no one has complained about Evie, but he thinks her collar and shoulder bones are a bit too prominent and he doesn’t think she’s eating. It’s noticeable when the others scarf their food down so fast their plate hardly has time to touch the table before it’s gone.
It’s… concerning. He hadn’t been expecting something like this. He thought Auradon would be the problem. The Isle kids would come over, a bit jaded but ultimately grateful for a chance off the Isle, and they would assimilate.
They would be different than anyone he had ever met, but they’d choose good. They’d prove it to the naysayers and then more Isle kids could make their way over. They’d have a chance.
But they aren’t assimilating. The majority of the students aren’t accepting them, and those that try are brushed off and turned away with distrust. The four Isle kids are closer than ever, grouping together obsessively, not letting the others stray far without one of them hovering close by.
They aren’t bad. Their behavior isn’t born out of evil. He can tell by their fierce concern for the others, the protectiveness, the way they crouch outside the closet door, faces soft as they patiently wait for it to open, the way they block everyone’s view from Mal as they drag her away from where she stands frozen, eyes wide and chest heaving in panic, but not reacting.
Ben quietly observes, taking note of everything he’s done wrong . Everything he could do better. It’s a scramble to fix things, because it’s apparent that he was woefully unprepared.
Therapy. He needs to find someone who specializes in trauma. And tailor a class to Auradon culture. And technology. And a health class. Because all they’ve had so far on the island as far as food options go, is anything they can get their hands on, which was usually rotting (he didn’t know that all the mainland sent over for food and supplies, was it’s garbage- and that’s the next thing he’s going to fix).
He needs a doctor to check them out when they first get off the Isle and oversee the progress of their health. He needs placement testing and tutors, because it becomes very apparent to the teachers after a few weeks that Carlos and Evie should be far above their grade, and Jay and Mal are lacking in the traditional basics (and Ben learns that there isn’t any real schooling on the Isle).
Ben thought that getting the kids off the Isle and showing them kindness would be enough, but he’s quickly learning just how unprepared he was to deal with Auradon’s mistakes. His dad ’ s mistakes.