so logamin
I feel like it's rightfully weird to a lot of people, considering the whole canon dynamic between them, but the way that I like to think about it is like
You have Logan. Orphan, thrust into the real world all too early, put in charge of an immense kingdom that only got united some 50 years prior. Only the second generation of Albion monarchy, with all too little wisdom left over from his predecessors, most of which were just mayors of Bowerstone. From what it looks like, his only guidance came from Walter-- who was all too busy with his little sibling-- and Reaver, who is... Reaver. Currently-busy-sucking-the-continent-dry, human sacrificer, industrialist extraordinaire, literal inventor of capitalism in Albion Reaver. Who tried to kill Logan's parent at least once, mind you.
And then you have Ben Finn-- sweet, idealist, loyal to a fault Ben Finn, whose allegiance you earn once and forever. You could break every promise, raze everything to the ground, leave thousands of innocents to die to the Darkness, and he's the only one who won't leave. Good, devoted, collared dog Ben Finn. Because he gets it-- you're trying to keep the country from crumbling. So what if he doesn't agree with your means to that end? He'll grit and bear. He knows all too well by now what sacrifice means and what the world will take from you, that life is short, that where he's from people don't live to half his age.
He knows what it's like to watch your parents die, to have what flimsy safety net you had unravel beneath you. He knows deep, undying love for his siblings, which Logan clearly has as well-- the same way little Ben Finn tried to protect his much older brothers with his peashooter and his scrawny kid fists, Logan tried to protect his sibling by keeping them locked up and in the dark about his work. Shelter them, bear the brunt of it, so others won't have to suffer. Same mentality as Ben.
When Logan has Major Swift executed, we get to see a rare glimpse of true wrath in Ben-- that was his father figure, the last thing he had resembling a family, ripped from him. He vows to make Logan suffer, advocates for his execution after the revolution; and yet, still fights by his side in the Battle for Albion, still stands by him at Walter's funeral without complaint, still tolerates his existence. A year passes in between the coup and the Battle-- do you think, in that time, he got to see Logan more? The Allies must've had meetings to strategize, and judging by his clothing Logan's been living in the castle; they couldn't have not interacted during that year.
Do you think, then, that Ben Finn-- self-sacrificial as he's always been, now having to see his best friend struggle to run the country and avoid falling into the same pitfalls Logan did-- looked at the disgraced former king and... Got it?
He's had comrades drop like flies left and right-- honest, hard-working people with families back home, who nonetheless were in it for the greater good-- and had to get back up, dust himself off and crack a joke for the sake of morale. He's lived in Bloodstone, a festering wound on the face of Albion, doing Avo knows what; death and decay have always followed in his footsteps, and yet he's chosen to take that as just another piece of the puzzle.
Because when you're talking about saving the world, you come to see people as distant, abstract notions. And he'll always resent that Logan was pushed to those depths of madness, but he can't not get the need to take extreme measures in the face of certain doom.
After all, his best friend, his Hero, is one step away from doing the same. And in their place, he might, too. For the greater good.
So he leaves Bowerstone. Tours the world once over, relives his youth-- which wasn't so long ago, but he feels ancient by now. He's quieter now perhaps, a little more skittish; more alert to a glint of something metal in the corner of his eye, more prepared to jump into action at the groaning of a wooden floor behind him. He comes back to Albion years later, maybe a little more gray and scruffy, but still Ben Finn. Despite everything, still good old Ben Finn. In a decade or so, tensions between Samarkand and Albion will be rising-- in another four or five, Darkness will descend upon Albion once more. New Heroes will have to be made.
But for now he's home, and his friend welcomes him with open arms-- gives him a room in the castle perhaps, a generous allowance, and the odd adventuring job to keep him from getting bored. Page is still down in the sewers, directing her energy toward workers' rights and children's education, building a system that'll ensure no one's left to rot in the street. Sabine's passed by now, perhaps, but the Dwellers have been given their lands back and are represented in the Court; as are the Aurorans, who have their own embassy by now. Kalin sends letters sometimes, discusses everything from philosophy to petty gossip with the Hero. She's delighted to hear Ben's back, invites him and the Hero over sometime, maybe for a festival-- You should see Aurora nowadays, Ben, it's like a phoenix risen from the ashes! the Hero might say. And it's true-- with the Darkness gone, the "City of Nightmares" has become anything but.
He takes it all in, and something's missing-- and it's not that he, personally, misses Logan, but Logan's absence is... impossible to ignore. Like a vital piece of the scenery that's been plucked out. The Hero probably doesn't mention it, but it's evident that it stings. And maybe Ben inquires about it one night, when it's evident the Hero would like to reminisce-- lets them talk about their childhood, about growing up to see Logan go from a timid, good-hearted boy to a monster. About the way he hid his encounter with the Crawler from everyone and sunk deeper and deeper into his paranoia, convinced that no one will believe him if he tells them what he's seen. Tormented by the vision and doomed not to be trusted, the Seer's curse.
And maybe Ben decides to leave one day-- sick of rescuing chickens from wells and children from trees, he decides to surprise his best friend. And so he tracks Logan down to whatever corner of the world he's cooped up in; most likely in the libraries of Samarkand, a lonely shadow from far away lands, that talks to no one, keeps his face covered, and seems to be seeking something ineffable in the hundreds upon hundreds of yellowed pages he devours each day. Ben's arrival startles him-- he, too, is more skittish these days. And when he sees that familiar face pulled up into a scowl, Logan's sure his end has come for him.
Instead, Ben invites him home. Talks about his sibling, the way they'll never admit it but have him on their mind every waking hour. He tells Logan this isn't forgiveness-- they aren't friends. But he gets it. And after so many years, it's time to let the dust settle. Everyone should come home.
They travel back together, take the long trek from province to province until they reach the coast of Samarkand, board a ship and set sail for Albion. They live off the same small hunt, wild berries and hardtack over the journey back, drink from the same battered old flask, huddle together during storms, ward off bandits side by side. For better or worse, they become comrades-- Ben talks at length around the nightly campfire to stay sane, and eventually Logan joins him. Shares some of his own stories, perhaps-- and that's how Ben discovers the former king never wanted to be a king at all, that he did it for the sake of his parent's legacy and that he clung desperately to his moral compass until his mind broke too far to be trusted. That he always dreamt of being a scholar, perhaps an alchemist or a craftsman of some sort. That he can recite hundreds of poems and epics, that he loves literature just as fiercely as Ben does.
That he'd do anything for his friends and family, no matter how big the sacrifice.
And Ben doesn't forgive him yet, can't do it-- but they reach Bowerstone, and he watches the Hero burst into tears at the sight of their brother, older and more disheveled but alive, and he can't help but think back to being small and helpless and praying every night that his brothers might somehow, through some miracle, return to him.
And maybe sometime down the line, Logan musters up the courage to approach Ben one night and apologize. He speaks quietly, there's a tremor in his voice that's hard to miss; but Ben can tell the apology was composed with care and rehearsed heavily beforehand, and it's thorough. Logan makes no demands, he recognizes he might never be forgiven; he'll live with that, it's the consequences of his own actions, for which he'll take responsibility. Still, he apologizes.
And maybe Ben, good old Ben Finn, who by this point has only been thrust further and further into misery each time he thought he'd come to understand the horrors of the universe, finds it in his heart to forgive him. It won't undo the damage, but... he gets it. There's an understanding that goes unspoken, that Logan's actions will never be forgotten-- but they can live with that, some way or another.
And maybe as time passes, they fall further and further into each other. It's not the youthful, blazing kind of love that's all butterflies in your stomach and grand gestures-- more like furtive glances over the dinner table, correspondence during absences, or sparring matches as an excuse to spend time together. It's slow, a quiet yearning that could be tuned out, but is all the sweeter for being there at all.
They're old by the time they fall into place-- or well, older than they ever thought they'd get. Thirties, fourties perhaps. Long life still ahead of them, but an ache in their bones that's aeons old. Doesn't matter anymore. They'll nurse the ache together.
By then, perhaps, they get a house far from the bustling city life; somewhere near Brightwood perhaps, where the land's decent for farming and the past is alive-- the good parts of it, at least. Somewhere they can wake up to fresh air and rustling leaves, keep a few animals, focus on writing. And The Life and Adventures of Benjamin Finn can come to a close in a way Ben never dared to imagine, one that'll have audiences satisfied:
I lived.
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