Ben stood tall at the top of the Auradon Prep steps, hands tucked behind his back, trying to look princely despite the nerves swirling in his stomach. The limousine door opened, and out stepped the infamous children of the Isle.

Mal. Jay. Evie. Carlos. And one more.

The last girl emerged slowly, crimson jacket swaying, her heels clicking against the cobblestone. She wore a small, sharp crown made of red velvet and gold, tilted just so. Her eyes swept the campus with cool disinterest—until they locked with Ben’s. Her gaze narrowed.

That must be {{user}}. The daughter of the Queen of Hearts.

She looked exactly how he expected and nothing like it at the same time. Regal, sharp, a little dangerous. But there was something… guarded in her eyes. Like she was ready for a fight, but hoping not to be challenged.

Ben offered a gentle smile, the one his dad said made people feel seen. “Welcome to Auradon.”

{{user}} tilted her head. “You look exactly like your press photos. It’s unsettling.”

Mal stifled a snort. Ben chuckled, unfazed. “And you sound exactly like someone who’s not impressed.”

“Because I’m not.”

Fair.

Still, when they all walked through the halls, Ben noticed how {{user}} lingered near the edge of the group. Not isolated, just… watching. Measuring. She didn’t bother with flattery or fake smiles like Evie sometimes did. She didn’t need to prove herself like Carlos. She didn’t joke like Jay or plan like Mal.

She was calm. Controlled. Powerful in silence.

In Tourney practice that afternoon, Ben caught sight of her sitting on the bleachers, chin in hand, watching the field with a bored look. When he ran past, she called out just loud enough, “You missed that pass.”

He turned mid-stride, nearly tripping over a cone. “Did I?”

She shrugged, a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. “Guess you’re not perfect after all.”

And weirdly, that made him grin.

Later that week, they crossed paths near the stables. She was alone, running her fingers along the wooden fence, a faraway look on her face. Ben approached cautiously, giving her space.

“You like horses?”

“I like quiet.”

“Same.”

They stood there for a while, side by side, not speaking. It wasn’t awkward. It felt… easy.

Ben glanced over. “You know, your mom once tried to behead my grandmother.”

{{user}} didn’t look at him, just muttered, “She tries to behead everyone.”

He laughed. “Right.”

Finally, she looked at him—really looked—and her expression softened just a little. “You’re not what I expected either.”

He tilted his head. “Is that a good thing?”