Chapter Text
The simple trip to collect ingredients turns difficult faster than Varian could’ve expected. He’d already owned most of the things he needed; one of the perks of being a scientist who works with herbs and likes shiny objects. One of the ends that he needed to acquire had him high in a tree.
Varian watched the mother bird leave to collect more additions to her nest, neglecting four medium-sized eggs. Carefully, he pulled his body closer to the nest, pausing momentarily to unsnag one of his belt loops when it caught on the bark. With the warm, afternoon light casting dancing shadows on the tree’s leaves, Varian felt more relaxed than he thought possible. He reached into one of his many pockets to pull out a fluorescent pink test tube. He gave it a shake, smiling softly when it glowed. Stretching his arm into the nest, the teen hovered the light over each egg, checking for signs of movement inside the shell. With luck, he found that three out of the four eggs were unfertilized and therefore, not alive. But before he could gently remove them, an undignified shriek almost sent him over the edge of the branch he was precariously perched on.
“Holy silver pieces! Kid! What are you doing up there?!”
Eugene stood at the base of the tree, looking strangely terrified at how high up Varian was currently.
Varian barely managed to suppress a sigh at the man’s sudden appearance and loud voice. He quickly put the three robin’s eggs into the pouch on his belt before climbing back down. Once the alchemist had both boots on the ground, Eugene took him by the shoulders and began his impromptu inspection for injuries. Seeing none on his friend’s exposed skin, he puffed a dramatic breath in relief.
“Almost gave me a hernia, kid.,” he moaned, plucking a twig from Varian’s disheveled hair. It took every bit of Varian’s training in being polite to elders to not roll his eyes while Eugene was still looking at him like he broke his favorite comb. “What were you doing in the highest tree, in the middle of nowhere?” Finally, Eugene’s hands fell from Varian’s shoulders, relocating them to his hips in a mock of the infamous parently scolding pose.
“Getting an important component for the memory remedy I’m making.” Varian pats his side pouch before matching Eugene’s posture challengingly. “What are you doing at the base of the highest tree, in the middle of nowhere?”
Now the brunette looks sheepish, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his head. He laughs nervously and Varian feels bad for making him this uncomfortable. He almost backtracks and apologizes for questioning Eugene, but recognizes that desire comes from the fear of authority beaten into him. So instead, the alchemist waits patiently for Eugene to gather his words.
“Uh, well, I wanted to check up on you to see if you were doing okay but you weren’t at your house or in your fancy lab, basement thing. So, I may or may not have been looking for you for the past two hours.” Not even Varian’s training could stop him from face-palming at Eugene’s words. The man laughs again, this time a much more natural melody.
“Why would you waste so much time just looking for me?” Varian groans, picking up his bag and starting to walk towards the end of the trees. He still needed one last additive, and he wasn’t about to let Eugene’s ridiculousness stop him from doing his job.
“Cause I was worried about you, Goggles. Why else?” The ex-thief falls into step with him, although his words cause Varian to briefly stop in his tracks. When he picked up his pace again, he kept his sky blue eyes on the ground. His leather gloves squeak as he fidgets with the strap of his satchel, also packed with strange plants in vials.
“Sorry, still getting used to the ‘people caring about me’ thing.”
He feels Eugene’s worried look drill two big holes into the top of his head. Varian doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better either. Lately, he’s been choking on the abundance of others’ worry after being deprived of it for so long and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. Varian wishes that he functioned properly, that he didn’t have nightmares that made his dad hover over him like he was a young child; that he didn’t have scars that he knew Rapunzel saw from the pity in her eyes; that he didn’t have the panic attacks or flashbacks that started the whole mess with Eugene and Lance in the first place; that he didn’t hate himself so much or feel sorry all the time or find himself having trouble focusing when it is demanded of him.
Varian was startled out of his musings by a hand ruffling his black locks, dislodging his goggles. His unexpected hiking companion tutted while Varian glared at him, fixing his hair and the strap for his goggles.
“I could hear you overthinking from over here. Better be careful or your brain will explode from too many stupid thoughts. Goodness knows that’s how Lance lost his brain. Rest in peace, Lance’s common sense.” Despite not believing in unexplainable magic, Varian couldn’t help but feel that Eugene was magical; he managed to make him laugh. “Anyways, where are we headed now?”
“There’s a grove of lavender flowers at the edge of this clearing, it’s the last ingredient I need,” Varian explained, happy for a topic change and to have a question that he can finally answer. Eugene hummed flatly, pressing his hands into his pant pockets. For now, the man is content with the following silence between the two as they enjoy the fragile peace of nature around them. After a while, the purple field comes into view and Varian scuttles ahead of him to start gathering the flowers he needs.
Eugene watches from a distance away, he lets his eyes slide close. With a deep breath through his nose, the lavender scent helps uncurl the tension built up over the many hours spent worry-warting for someone he knew could take care of themselves. But as someone who took care of himself for years, Eugene knew that things weren’t always as they seemed. Blondie helped catch him when he needed it and he’ll be six feet under sooner than refuse to catch this kid that he’s already let fall so many times before.
A surprised yelp startles him from his thoughts, and Eugene’s first reaction to frenziedly search for the source, moving away from the trees and closer to the flower field. He notes the teenager missing amongst the reeds of purple pollen and the familiar stress pain in his muscles returns in bounds.
“Varian?!” He digs through the plants, the relaxing smell turning sour in a matter of seconds. He reaches the end of the field to find the cliff face it was perilously balanced on. Because, of course. What was that phrase Xavier taught him? Muchausers’ Law? Murphy’s Law? Well whatever it was, Varian was overdosing on it. His anxiety peaked when there was still no sign of ancient goggles or leather gloves. “Kid?!” He called again.
“I’m okay! Just give me a second.” The voice is carried by the wind, but it is definitely coming from below him. Knowing better than to tempt fate, Eugene kneeled to stabilize his core. He leaned to peak over the edge. He would tell no one and therefore no one would know, just how much Eugene’s hands, the same hands that have sealed men's’ fates and taken their livelihoods, shook with fear. Flynn Rider would have laughed if he could see the future.
The kid was pulling himself up off of a side ledge when Eugene finally caught sight of him. Varian, still much too close to falling to his death for Eugene’s comfort, stared at the edge with a peculiar look weighing down his young face. Backing up until his shoulders were glued to the sediment behind him, the alchemist was only a few feet below where Eugene was rapidly gaining gray hairs. A breeze whipped by and rocks crumbled away, falling into the chasm beneath.
“Give me your hand.” He commanded, pulling off his glove with his teeth and extending his hand. The man did not like the telling glint in Varian’s stare. He looked at the cusp of death as if it had all the answers. “Varian, give me your hand.”
Similar to waking up from a daze, clarity swam in ocean eyes before the teen gripped his forearm and within seconds the two were on the same level and away from the ledge. As soon as Varian was safe, Eugene made haste to wrap his arms around him. That would have been a really dumb way to die, he couldn’t help but think when feeling the warmth seep into him from the smaller’s adrenaline-heavy body.
“I’m trapping you in a dozen pillows and never letting you see the light of day again if you nearly fall to your death for the, what is it? Fourth time? Sixth time? How many times have you almost died?!” He finally lets go of Varian to subsequently flop onto the grass. Judging by the hollow thud he hears next to him, Varian followed his example. The lavender flowers above him sway in the wind.
“24 if we count the three months I was on the run as a whole and not every individual time my life was threatened.” Sarcasm warps his voice, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. Eugene couldn’t find anything funny with the teen’s quip. He turns his head to see the kid laying next to him, limbs splayed out and eyes closed. Gods, it is a miracle this kid is still breathing,-still fighting Eugene’s brain is so eager to remind him. A bitter pill lodges itself in his throat at the thought that this bright light beside him could’ve been snuffed out before he got the chance to truly know him in all of his dorky, sassy glory. What’s more was that it reminded him of the conversation he had with Lance, a few days prior. Seems like even with their princess back, Corona’s cruelty is unchanged.
“And if every individual time contributed to your depressing kill count?” Eugene keeps his voice light like he wasn’t actually concerned about the fact that the kid is ten years younger than him but already almost reaching the number of times people have tried to murder him during his Flynn Rider days.
“46. Why? Jealous that you don’t get shiny swords stuck in your face anymore? I’m sure with some convincing, the guard would be more than happy.”
Okay. Eugene was going to sit down and have a very long conversation about appropriate times for self-deprecating humor and the right way to address abusive behavior with this kid. Sick of doing nothing, he gets to his feet. Dusting off his expensive linen, the ex-thief sighs. Varian sits up at the sound of Eugene’s apparent frustration. The curious tilt of his head is enough to make Eugene want to scream. He extends a hand to help his friend to his feet.
“I’ll get ya your justice Goggles. It’s just a matter of time.” Varian stares at the outstretched appendage, before looking up at Eugene. The boy shakes his head, a solemn frown pulling at his lips.
“I don’t want justice. Not anymore,” he mutters, taking the hand. Pulled to his feet, Varian doesn’t let go of Eugene’s hand just yet. He holds it between them, flexing his fingers against the man’s tightening grip. “I’m tired of hoping for something that isn’t going to happen. All I want now is to make sure nothing will hurt my friends or family again and right my wrongs. I can only wish that the king will do the same when I’m done with the memory remedy. If not, I’ll see you on the other side of a set of High-Security bars.” The hint of panic in his voice is smothered by an absurd amount of maturity for a sixteen-year-old.
Eugene just wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, scream at him that Eugene would never let that happen to him and that he’ll do anything to protect him from any more abuse until it breaks through his dense, self-loathing haze. He wants to rant and rail and throw something at the sheer unfairness of it all. But he’s a grown man and not a toddler, so he reigns himself in.
“You’re a good person.” Varian scoffs at that, pulling his hand away. “I mean it. Most people would rather run away than face the people who’ve threatened them. Not only are you facing him, but you are also fixing the problem that keeps you safe for the sake of others’ happiness. I don’t care how you try to twist it, Goggles. You are a good person.” There’s more he wants to say, but he can’t find the words. Varian also looks like he’s choking back arguments and denials, but does not open his mouth. Instead, a gentle smile spreads, infectious in all of the right ways.
“Let’s get you home before another near-death experience comes knocking.” Eugene tilts his head in the direction of Old Corona, his voice reduced to a soft hum. Varian chuckles at the words.
“You think I can convince Rapunzel to make a cake once I reach fifty almost-deaths?”
“I think we’ll make a cake if you don’t reach fifty by the end of the month, how about that?”
“Deal.”
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The way she walks feels unnaturally stiff in her bones, Rapunzel laments as she creeps through the palace walls. Ever since the discovery of cruelty in their ranks, Rapunzel feels this is the only way to tread through such a place; a place that used to represent her dreams come true turned into a living nightmare and prison. Another prison after all she’s done to break away is what life rewards her with but instead of lacy words to fill her woes, it’s lacy dresses, lacy shoes, and lacy walls.
Whether or not she wants to acknowledge it, this beautiful castle has become another prison not just to her, but to the lives lost to cruelty and injustice at the hands of the Coronan Royal Guard. She didn’t understand completely what her role as a princess was. Rapunzel assumed that she was to keep the peace, keep people happy, keep her kingdom safe; be a good leader, and care about her citizens.
From her experience in court, however, that was not what she was. In court, among the lords, barons, and kings, Rapunzel was a piece of jewelry. Something pretty and shiny to show off rather than of someone with the right to an opinion. Sure, she was Queen for that one day, when her father was gone and as long as she was supervised by the Royal Adviser in the room. But there were moments like right now that reminded her that she was supposed to be nothing more than something pleasant to look at. The fact that she spent her previous rainy days studying law and government was something that was frowned upon according to her father. Well too bad, she thinks bitterly, because it’s about time to stop smiling and waving and start fixing things.
“I am saying that I want an investigation of the ranks in the Royal Guard, from what I have heard in my absence, it is more than called for.” She argues for the third time.
“An investigation will do nothing other than spreading our ranks thinner than they already are. Must we descend into an investigation at every lie told by commoners and criminals?” Nigel, having arrived in the Meeting Room shortly after Rapunzel came home and started organizing the aforementioned investigation, asked haughtily. The princess bit her tongue to stop the angry rebuttal forcing its way out. How dare he accuse her friends of lying when she’s seen it herself?! It’s almost as if he assumes that she be so incompetent as to not connect the dots or so apathetic to sit back and watch her citizens be forced into silence.
“Fine. If you don’t trust our people, the families we’re responsible for, how about the statistics.” Rapunzel’s voice quivers, rage bleeding into her consonants. She swipes a pile of papers from the table and clears her throat condescendingly. Nigel deserved a little grief and she’s more than willing to be the one to give it to him.
“Corona’s arrest rate is 200 percent higher than any other kingdom in our region.” She slams a piece of paper on the table. “97 percent of petty criminals arrested in Corona have skewed sentences, condemned to either a lifetime in jail or death.” The table shakes after another paper is pounded onto its surface. “100 percent of people arrested are from the common or working-class despite 54 percent of criminal activity coming from wealthier classes.” Slam. “The criminals in our system are denied medical treatment despite 88 percent of them being injured or sickly at this very moment.” Slam.
This last statistic she had collected made her pause, tears briefly shining in her eyes before she continues, voice weaker than before but the words much more venomous.
“50 percent of our prisoners are below the age of eighteen. They are not even fully grown and yet they are forced to accept that their lives are over because of a piece of stolen bread.” This paper she lets fall to the floor. She fixes a steely glare on Nigel, her stomach swirling with nausea. His thin face is pulled inwards, scowling with disgust and probably thinking of ways to deny her, despite Rapunzel being his superior. He didn’t get the chance. This is her time to talk and his time to be something pleasant and quiet.
“Nigel, either carry through the investigation or be processed for willful neglect and prisoner brutality.” The words turn Nigel’s red, indignant face to a nice shade of white. Seeing that the Royal Adviser now has nothing to say, Rapunzel starts to collect her documents. More tears welled up in her eyes. If it was a year ago, she would have done nothing; said nothing, in fear of being wrong or upsetting someone. But enough of her people have been hurt by her standing off to the sidelines.
She kneels to pick up the last piece of paper from the ground, her posture perfectly straight but her fingers were shaking. How many lives were doomed because she didn’t want to risk her father’s ire? How many families have been torn apart because of an injustice that she didn’t want to acknowledge? Taking a steadying breath, she stands upright again. Nigel has composed himself a little more but still couldn’t find his voice by the time Rapunzel makes to leave the room.
“It’s time for Corona to see the light.” She murmurs, quiet but firm. Closing the door behind her, the new Queen of Corona marches back down the overly long hallways.
The nervous energy running laps in her veins causes Rapunzel to almost break down right then and there. Stress was something that she knew she didn’t deal with well; the second reason why she felt unfit to be royalty. But, if no one was going to do something about her kingdom's suffering, then Rapunzel will step up to the metaphorical plate.
Plus she has the best de-stressing system in the world, she thinks. A grateful smile spreads across her face when she hears Eugene’s boisterous laughter echoing from somewhere outside. Her Eugene-radar pinpoints his exact location, her mom’s lily garden, his favorite hideaway in the castle. Without hesitation, she makes her way through stuffy marble halls and into clear skies and sunshine. When Rapunzel’s eyes finally find him, he’s smiling the biggest, brightest smile and she feels twenty pounds of pure stress already waste away.
He’s sitting with Lance and to her surprise, Varian, under a pavilion. Judging by the spark in his eyes and his excited hand gesturing, he’s telling a story. Lance is fiddling with a string, keeping his fingers busy so he’s able to focus better, a gentle grin growing on his features. Varian is engrossed by her boyfriend’s story, propping up his head with both hands and eyes shining with child-like innocence.
The idea that all of these wonderful people in her life have been hurt by the Coronan system washes away the doubts she felt in the room with Nigel. She’s reminded that she’s not just doing this for the betterment of the kingdom but for the justice that the found family deserved.
Rapunzel doesn’t feel bad interrupting their storytime because she needs to give them all the biggest hug in the world.
“Blondie! I was wondering where you were!” Eugene beams at her, standing from his chair to plant a kiss on her eager lips. When they part, Rapunzel notices Varian having turned away from their display of affection, red-faced, and she laughs. Her boyfriend pulls her to the table by her hand. “I was just telling them the story of the Demanitus Maze.”
“You mean the story where every bad thing could’ve been avoided if you listened to Demanitus?” Rapunzel smirks cheekily, taking a seat.
“No, the one where we were screwed over by a monkey. Come on, Sunshine, keep up.” Eugene replies right away, not wanting to acknowledge Rapunzel’s comment. It’s such a shame that he’s outnumbered.
“Right, because not wanting to give up a coin to a fountain even though you are a prince consort and have plenty of money with your supplies was definitely Demanitus’s fault,” Varian says. His tone was playful and full of mirth, something that did not go unnoticed by Rapunzel.
“Where’s a monkey supposed to keep a money bag anyway? I don’t think pockets are a built-in design feature they have.” Lance joins in, turning the string into a teacup and plate, side-eyeing the now pouting Eugene.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it, okay.” He gripes childishly, crossing his arms and then slumping in his seat. Just looking at him, Rapunzel feels an overbearing wave of love wash over her and she can’t restrain herself any further. She throws herself on Eugene, squeezing him tightly and basking in the heat of his skin combined with the reliable beating of his heart. Almost bursting out laughing when he whispers the question of if she is okay, she feels happy. Over his shoulder, the royal observes Lance and Varian patiently waiting for their expression of undying love to end. She beckons them forward with her hand.
“Come ‘ere,” Rapunzel giggles. “Get in on some of this mushy goodness.” Lance wraps his great arms around the two of them without a sign of hesitance, his brilliant grin glowing bright enough to illuminate the darkest days. However, Varian takes in the scene with reluctance. The offer to be enveloped in a warm, safe, and loving embrace seems too good to be true, so the boy doesn’t rise to join them. Realizing that the stubborn alchemist isn’t going to move of his own accord, Lance groans dramatically. Removing one arm, the large man scoops up Varian’s body easily, squishing him into Eugene’s side and then placing his hand back around the three of them. The most beautiful smile melts onto Varian’s freckled face and only one thought is left present in Rapunzel’s mind.
She loves her boys and she’s never going to let anything bad happen to them ever again.