AN: Ben Solo is an official Disney Prince, and I have yet to see any fic of such a thing. Definitely a shift of pace for me, but I promise we'll move back into fucked-up rom com territory shortly.

Heavily inspired by two incredible pieces of fanart that have been circling around on Tumblr by Arriku and Elithien.

Quick disclaimers: Not EU-compliant, not-technically-canon-compliant, written just to give Disney Prince Ben Organa-Solo a real chance. Alderaan was still destroyed, but a-la EU, many Alderaan inhabitants were able to flee before it got Death Star'd. Luke created the new Jedi Order and was very thankful that his sister offered the planet she rules over as a home base for his new padawans. This is all just for fun, anyway.

The blood of royals does not run through his veins. It feels like a sham, sometimes, as his body is draped in the rich purple cloth of aristocracy, but he has learned by now to keep his lips pressed together and his thoughts silent. His mother is well-versed in the etiquette of the crown and teaches him well, but in the face of a population that knows only the hereditary pedigree of leadership, he is an outlier.

Leadership does run in his blood, in a sharp contrast with the bloodline right to sovereignty, but comparing himself to the flawless diplomacy of Padmé Amidala feels similar to holding a flickering candle up to a wildfire.

A single breath could stifle his flame in an instant.

He's going to be a legend, they tell him. Padmé Amidala's blood, Leia Organa's intelligence, the Skywalker Force sensitivity, Han Solo's cleverness. Leia's adoption matters not in the face of such genetic inheritance. Ben Solo, they say. The legacy of our best generations.

But the blood of royals does not run through his veins.

He is fifteen years old and well on his way to becoming a Jedi Knight when they first meet. It is a cloudy day, and as grey blankets the sky, Ben thinks it may rain.

He remembers the moment with perfect clarity.

She's tiny, and young, and when Master Luke introduces her as his future bodyguard, his carefully-schooled features of royal upbringing shatter entirely as he doubles over in disbelieving laughter.

It is not a joke, though, and the youngling takes offense. In her impulsive outrage, she shoves at him with the Force backing her tiny, outspread palms, and as they make contact with him, he is toppled over by the sheer energy emanating from her.

There are few things more embarrassing than falling to the ground because of a child, and although his uncle is already admonishing her for the display, it changes nothing.

Ben despises her instantly.

The queen expresses disappointment when he loudly rejects her as his protector. Even his mother favors this small slip of a girl with a crude, unrefined background, and it feels startlingly like betrayal.

It is fortunate that they interact very little during her formative years of instruction, because even a glimpse of the diminutive girl fills him with senseless rage. Ben watches her from a distance as she grows into her personality, watches her as she fills out into her too-thin frame and begins to develop the babyfat around her cheeks that should've been there all along. Her hair grows out, and it isn't long before the telltale yellow woven into her padawan braid stands out against the deep brown of her locks.

He convinces himself that he only notices her aging because they attend the same academy. Their age difference and his royal standing separate them appropriately, and he is privileged enough to garner private lessons from his uncle.

As the years pass, the fact that Rey is Luke Skywalker's most promising padawan does not go unnoticed by many. His father has taken a particular interest in the girl as well, and Ben tires of the stories he tells of how easily she picked up piloting the Falcon.

Han Solo stopped teaching him to fly after the first assassination attempt.

Rey is a prodigy not only in the Force, but also in garnering affection from his entire family. He wants to be disgusted, wants to do whatever he can to redirect their attention back toward him, but she makes his mother laugh in a way that even he can't, and the quiet resentment builds as he refrains from making comments about it.

He's royalty, and above such lowbrow remarks. She isn't even worth the effort.

Ben is elevated to Jedi Knight the same year she is, and he swallows the bitterness and insistence of its unfairness. He is a master of Djem So, and can manipulate the Force with a dexterity that has drawn surprised breaths from Master Luke on several occasions, but it is still apparently not enough.

He tells no one about the voice that whispers in his head.

It has existed for as long as he can remember, and he's heard tales of humans going insane from the chemical imbalances of their bodies and the imaginary figures filling their thoughts with venom. This kind of information could ruin a potential planetary leader, and all of his private research on the topic reassures him that the voice is merely an apparition.

Ben sometimes suspects that Luke knows he's damaged, but his uncle never brings it up. He speaks only of his inability to control his emotions, and the conflict within him of the Light and the Dark, and it is all trite bantha shit without any substance.

Suppressing the thoughts gets harder after he becomes a Knight. He's so close to being granted the rank of Jedi Master, but more often than not his Master gazes at him with concern, and the goal is always out of his reach.

"This is what Rey is here for," his mother says. She likely means it to be a reassurance, a comforting thought that no matter what he will be safe and protected, but he sees underneath her words. He's weak, and he must rely on a young girl to even survive.

Even well into adulthood Ben is not strong enough to surpass the abilities of a thirteen-year-old girl, and despite the insistence that he is capable of handling himself, he is a Skywalker, they treat him like a child that requires a retainer.

He is meant to rein in his emotions, to disallow them from clouding his judgment, but Ben is filled with such rage that he cannot even maintain a meditative state.

She loves that girl more than you, his mind says, and If you cut them all down, you will achieve true power.

Meditating peacefully is nigh impossible, and Ben passes the time daydreaming about the havoc he could cause if he stole Master Luke's lightsaber.

Force-sensitivity has made him a poor sleeper. Even the vaguest of stirrings in the castle startle him into wakefulness, and as he turns in his bed, he has acute knowledge of who is hesitating just outside the sturdy Laroon wood of his bed chamber's door.

He uses the Force to open it, and can just barely see the dim outline of Rey in the archway. She steps inside and quickly climbs onto the bed with him, and Ben is simultaneously confused as to why she would come to him and annoyed with her forward actions.

"We're in the snow," she says, and she's crying earnestly now as she moves closer to him.

Ben is not cruel, despite the wave of nausea that churns his stomach as his mind murmurs, How easy it would be to end her suffering, and he reasons that the darkness of the world around him and the drowsiness filling his veins make it appropriate to wrap his arms around her in a gesture of comfort.

"I'm going to protect you," the Jedi Knight says, even as he hugs her closer to his chest. The words are strange, and for some reason she reaches a hand out to draw a line over the bridge of his nose to accompany them.

He just sighs loudly to ensure she knows he's irritated and mutters, "Yeah, yeah. Brat."

They fall asleep like that, her quiet sniffling petering out as her breathing steadies, and Ben sleeps better than he has in years.

He wakes up alone the next morning, though, and it's for the best.

Rey does not bring it up again, and Ben manages to forget it happens at all. He convinces himself that it was a dream.

She ascends to Jedi Master with a grace that infuriates him. Two weeks past his twenty-sixth birthday she surpasses him in the Jedi Order, and through the congratulations of the younglings and padawans he seethes.

The title of Knight seems shameful, now that they share it, and Ben confronts her when he can bear it no longer.

"What do they see in you?" he growls as his composure slips before her. They're alone in the training grounds, and even without the cultural lessons of aristocracy that he's suffered through for years, her face is an impressive mask of passivity.

Rey does not speak aloud despite his tight, bruising grip on her forearms. He's sure his fingers will leave trails of bruises behind, marring her tan skin with ugly marks, but she just looks into his eyes and murmurs in his mind, Calm yourself, please.

The invasion into his deepest thoughts is as infuriating as it is unsettling, and she seems not to hear the hissing, Kill her before her power fully manifests, that fills his mind as she walks away.

He toys with the thought for the briefest of moments, but he finds that while the knowledge of a Force choke weaves its way into his mind, he cannot commit the crime.

Instead, he seeks answers.

"I don't understand," he says to his uncle, and he only just manages to filter out the instinctive whine of his words.

"You tread too dangerous a line with your emotions," Luke tells him, and although his tone is neutral it cuts like a saber through his chest.

The advice is useless. His mother revels in the passionate emotions, as evidenced by her union with Han Solo and his very existence, and Ben knows that even his Master is not as flawless as the Jedi Code claims to require.

How can he be lined up to rule a kingdom and still feel inferior to a teenage brat nobody?

On her coronation as his official bodyguard, she swears her life to him. It is a small ceremony, filled with a party of only the necessary members, and Ben refuses to even meet her eyes. It is an immature display of power – pretending that she is so far beneath him he will not even acknowledge her presence – but in reality he is fearful that if he gazes into her knowing stare then he is the one that will be beneath her.

His mother looks far too pleased for this to be the simple swearing-in of a member of the royal guard.

"This isn't an engagement, mother," he tells her quietly, annoyed, and she merely tells him to relax and enjoy the coronation.

Ben feigns interest as his father recites the duties of the royal guard, and Rey stands, back straight and eyes focused on the king. She's dressed in the beige and brown of the Jedi, saberstaff placed strategically at her hip, and he tries not to feel envious of it.

"You'll do, I suppose," Ben says when she moves in front of him and offers him her undying loyalty.

Rey just says softly, "My life is forfeit for you, my liege," and even in this, she outdoes him.

She is the perfect bodyguard. Her combat skills are unrivaled by all but Master Luke, her weapon is powerful and stunning in its composition, and her face is a constant mask of professionalism that never fails to irk him.

Come to me, the voice says within his mind when he thinks too heavily of how innately strong she is. Come to me and we will become more powerful than her.

It is the first time that his thoughts have suggested an external presence, and because he's carried it with him for so long, the notion is terrifying.

Ben does not admit it to anyone, especially to Rey, although he does seek out her grounding presence. Within the confines of the castle, she is able to stray small distances away from him, and he finds her meditating nearby Master Luke's training grounds.

Her eyes are closed, face slack in her introspective state, and rather than interrupting her he sinks down next to her and slips his own eyes closed. The first thing he notices against the darkness of his eyelids is how strongly he feels her presence alongside him, and perhaps it is her powerful alignment with the Force or maybe just their often proximity that has the hairs along his arms prickling in awareness.

Meditation is difficult as his mind reels in turmoil, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for him to slip into a remotely peaceful state. His consciousness floats in the vast ether of the Force timelessly, and it is only when Ben feels the gentle probing of his bodyguard's mind that he exhales a quiet breath and opens his eyes.

The sky has gone dark, and Rey is standing faithfully in front of him, ever alert.

"My prince, dinner will begin soon."

The formality of the words and the coolness of her tone bring him fully to the present, and Ben nods to inform her of his awareness. She offers him a hand, and he disregards it as he pushes himself to his feet.

Rey is not slighted by the rebuff, and neatly tucks her hands behind her back as she escorts him to the great hall. They are the last to arrive, and his parents and uncle are already seated at the long, extravagant table.

Ben takes his seat after pressing a soft kiss to his mother's hand in greeting.

"I was on this planet last week," his father begins as Rey leans forward and dips a utensil into his soup before dutifully bringing it to her mouth. "They didn't believe New Alderaan was run by a woman."

"Who would be running it, then?" the queen asks, and she has a wry smile upon her features as Rey taps Ben's shoulder to indicate the food is safe.

"The planet is clearly shadow-run by Han Solo," Ben says as he shoves down his unsettled feelings from earlier, and his uncle snorts into his soup.

His mother levels a flat look at him at his words, but Master Luke says, "There would be no planet left to rule."

It's a risky joke that plays out well. Han's outraged, "Hey!" echoes throughout the grand space, and Leia's laughter is high and clear.

"He's not wrong, Han. I can hardly imagine the havoc you would wreak if you were forced to command the throne for an extended period of time."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben can see Rey's hand shooting to her mouth to cover – what? A smile? A chuckle of amusement?

Perhaps she is not so impenetrable, after all.

Their conversation descends into an anecdote of Han and Luke's botched rescue attempt of Leia on the Death Star, and it is one he has heard many times. Ben turns his focus toward his bodyguard, and is careful not to mistake his budding interest as fondness for her.

The seventh attempt on his life is almost successful. He has but a moment to feel shame at his inability to evade the attack, but the emotion quickly drains away in a similar manner as the blood from his body.

It is the first time he sees Rey's lightsaber in action. The saberstaff glows yellow as it hums, and even as she drives the weapon through his would-be assassin, he feels anger stirring deep in his chest.

Ben does not have a lightsaber. He may never will, if his frantic pulse continues its high-speed rhythm, and he is mesmerized by the fierceness of his Jedi bodyguard and the vivid amber luminescence that surrounds her as she snuffs out a life.

Bacta saved his life along with the quick thinking of Rey, Master Luke tells him later in the medibay. Even without any experience in the art of Force healing, she had quickly staunched his bleeding as she pushed the Force against his exposed wounds.

Unsurprisingly, she excels even in fields that she should reasonably be ignorant of. In his weakened state he honestly cannot even muster the energy to feign astonishment at her prowess, nor does the animosity he feels for her grow any greater.

He is reluctant to admit how drastically the near-assassination shifts their relationship. He owes her a life debt, now, and although protecting him is a responsibility she is being well-compensated for, Ben cannot entirely quash the thought that he must protect her in return to level the field.

Such a thing is easier pondered than executed, but maybe protecting her from the cruel figure within his mind that frequently hisses creative ways to eliminate her existence is the most satisfactory thing he can muster.

Ben does not learn to let go of his anger for years, nor does he ever truly silence the voice. It's always simmering just beneath the surface, raring for the opportunity to overflow, and Rey's constant presence provides an adequate outlet.

The Jedi does not accept his vitriol and hostility with passivity, though, and that is perhaps his favorite part about her. He enjoys nothing more than riling her up, irritating her to the point of cracking her professional mask until she's tossing him a weapon and gritting out between clenched teeth, "Let's spar." If he learns nothing in his regular lessons about leadership practices, then at least he is well-versed in manipulating his bodyguard into physical aggression.

Their spars are often one-sided: Rey refrains from using her saber against him, but the skill he draws upon to fight is still lacking against her damned proficiency in the art of everything.

Bruises to his ego are worth the briefest of moments where she attacks him not with training lightsabers and savage words but with dexterous fingers and the press of her teeth against his flesh.

She still satisfies her duties as a member of the royal guard, but the additional dynamic benefits them both.

In the midst of it all, enmity fades into something more comfortable, more satisfying. Ben sees the line of her back as she moves to his side and imagines its arch in the throes of pleasure.

She shoots him small, private smirks between their lessons from Master Luke, and he realizes that her cool facade of professionalism slips only around him.

They meet fully only in the darkness of his chambers, and they fumble through the joining with huffed sighs and sparks of pleasure, and only in his dazed euphoria does Ben allow her to slip in his mind and slide intangible hands over the planes of his thoughts to soothe him into slumber.

Somehow, Rey seems to have gained his attentions as easily as she has gained the rest of his family's.

"My earliest memory is of you," Rey says.

He is mere months from his coronation when she tells him this, and Ben cannot fathom how the words could bear truth. She had joined the Order as a youthful child, but certainly of age to have other, stronger memories before their first encounter.

"Tell me of it," he commands, although the demand is belied by their casual positioning. They lay in the midst of the grassy courtyard of their castle, his head cushioned by her thighs as her hands tangle within his curls. His scalp tingles.

"What do you know of Force visions?"

"No prophecy is absolute," Ben recites as their Master's words come to the forefront of his mind. "The tides of the Force are always in motion, and visions are not grounded in certainty."

She offers an affirmative hum, but otherwise remains silent as she thoughtfully twists a lock of his hair within her fingers.

He gives her the moment.

"We're in the snow," she says to him eventually. "I'm fighting for my life against you."

Ben closes his eyes and concentrates on her presence. They're close enough, in proximity and harmony, that it takes minimal effort to peer into her mind and capture the vision.

Her words do not cease, and he concentrates on the visual as well as her voice. "You attack like a man possessed, but you do not move to kill. I'm untrained, vulnerable. Desperate."

Ben notices the fear and determination that radiates from the vision. He witnesses her focusing on the hilt of a saber before the Force guides it into her hand, and he observes his own face slack with disbelief. When she activates the weapon, he wants to say, Your lightsaber is wrong, as they clash, but more important than the blue surrounding her is the light of red enveloping him.

His lightsaber is the wrong one in this vision, with its crackling, unbridled energy and the rage of its wielder. And Prince Ben Organa-Solo is no idiot.

"Stop," he chokes out, and around her, he's never been fit to maintain an aloof visage. His voice cracks on the word, strangled as it escapes the sudden tightness in his throat and the pounding of blood in his head.

Rey does not stop. "The world is collapsing around us, but I've never felt such intense focus from anyone before. You're consumed by me, even as we fight, and you fall beneath me." His bodyguard traces a single finger in a clean line across his face, and finally he understands perfectly.

Ben pushes her hand away from him and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes until the nausea abates. "Why would you tell me this?"

"The tides of the Force are always in motion," she replies, and closes her mind off from him. "I don't sleep when I think of it."

"Is this to be my future, then?" He doesn't truly want to know, but he must ask. The infection of his mind spits caustic words as she finishes her recollection, and Ben is already formulating a plausible reason to reject the throne. If his parents disown him, perhaps the damage will be minimized. It feels futile, but this cannot be disregarded.

Warm sunlight shines down on them, and he wonders if today will be the last day of his life that he sees New Alderaan.

"I lied," Rey says, and he pushes himself off of her lap and into a sitting position. His arms are shaking with the effort, and as he looks into her face, she offers him no respite.

Ben captures her face in his mind and sets to memorizing it even as his thoughts calculate self-exile.

"It was not a vision of you." She moves to cup his face with a calloused hand, but Ben nudges it away with the Force. This revelation is sickening, and allowing her to touch him will do nothing but poison her.

"He is not you."

"Do not lie to me," Ben says. He will have to leave before his mother discovers the truth.

"Ben."

He does not need to slip into her mind for this vision. Rey projects it into his mind, and his consciousness is abruptly surrounded by the image of him drawing a lightsaber hilt from his robes and settling into a typical battle stance. Rey circles around him, her yellow saberstaff held in a defensive posture as he activates his weapon and charges at her.

His lightsaber is purple, in this vision.

The fight, if it can be called such, lasts hardly longer than a minute. He is disarmed quickly, and Rey rewards him not with an attack that will mar his flesh, but the bruising crush of her lips against his.

The apparition fades to black before settling into the perfect clarity of another vision. He is dressed in the expensive silks of royalty as he sits on the throne, and his parents are seated on either side of him. Next to the throne, Rey stands, alert and guarding. Around them, their citizens look joyous, and his mother is smiling.

"He is not you," she repeats as the vision dissolves.

The blood of royals does not run through his veins, but Prince Ben Organa-Solo, heir to the throne of New Alderaan, believes in her.