Work Text:
“She promised me!” Varian shouted, whether to the guards, himself, or someone who might hear his desperate pleas; he did not know. The princess definitely could no longer hear him. His voice reverberated through the castle halls.
“One more word out of you, son, and you may be punished for attacking the princess after all,” Stan spoke.
“Attack? I didn’t attack the princess. My father is in danger and she’s the only one who can help! He doesn’t have much time!”
But Varian received no response from either of the guards. They reached the entrance to the castle and opened the doors for Varian to leave. They unhanded him. He rubbed his arms where they had held him as they dragged him through the castle, but he did not move. He stared them in the eyes with a look of desperation. Where was their humanity?
“Out you go, Varian,” Stan told him, gesturing with his staff toward the white and blue courtyard. Varian shook his head. The guards stepped forward, forcing him to take a step back - closer to the outside. A gust of wind blew through the entrance of the castle, licking the back of Varian’s neck where his hood was lowered and the tiniest bit of skin was exposed. He shivered slightly and drew his hood back over his head. The guards seized him again, dragging his person the last few inches he needed to go before he was outside.
With a small shove they released him, stepping back into the safety and comfort of the castle. Varian watched as the space between the doors grew smaller until finally they clanged shut. The difference between the warmth of the castle and the biting winds of the outdoors instantly caused goosebumps to appear on his face, but that wouldn’t stop him. Varian pounded his gloved fists on the old wood doors of the castle, shouting as he did so. He did not know how long he did this for, but his arms began to tire and his voice grew hoarse. This is a waste of time , he thought.
If the princess would not help Varian, he would find someone who would.
It was a long walk back to Old Corona and he needed to get started if he was going to make it back before dark. He placed his gloved hands over his cheeks, removing them only to rub them together and apply more warmth to his face.
How long had it been since he left? For all he knew, his father could be completely enveloped in the amber by now. The threat of tears began to sting his eyes at the thought of his father alone, spending his last moments watching the amber creep around him with no way to save himself. The tears might have fallen had the air not been so cold. Varian pushed the what-ifs out of his mind and reached into his pocket for one of his vials. He pulled out one that contained a light orange liquid. He swirled it around a few times and the liquid began to glow into a brighter orange and the vial heated up beneath his fingertips. Varian held the glass between his palms to keep himself warm on the long trek back home.
The journey back was easier than the journey to Corona. The snow and icy temperatures were not as severe as they were at the castle. Still, Old Corona was covered in half a foot of snow, not to mention a few more black rocks had emerged since he left, and the storm raging above gave no indication that it was going to stop.
Varian rushed as quickly as the snow allowed him back to his house. As he came closer, he stopped at other villager’s homes, rapping on their front doors. Somebody would help him. Somebody had to.
“Varian?” A friend of his father answered the door. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you inside?”
“It’s my dad. He’s in danger. I went to the castle to ask for princess Rapunzel’s help, but she wouldn’t. Please come with me, maybe there’s still time. Maybe…”
“Slow down,” Blake, the name of Quirin’s friend, said. “What kind of trouble is your father in?”
Varian explained to Blake about the rocks in his home, the accident that caused the amber to form. As soon as Varian said the word ‘rocks’, there formed a noticeable change in Blake’s expression, his body language.
“I’m sorry,” Blake cut Varian off as he was finishing his story. “But there’s nothing I can do. I have my own family to worry about right now.”
The door shut in front of Varian and he was left again on his own, in the cold, with one less person to count on. If Quirin’s own friend would not come to his rescue, then what’s to say anybody else would? Varian knocked on more doors anyway, waved at people moving firewood from their sheds and into their homes. Not one of them gave him the gratification of at least seeing his father. As soon as those rocks were mentioned, eye contact was broken, hands fumbled with, “No”s and “I’m sorry”s were said, and with each lousy excuse Varian grew less patient with their inaction.
His house was in view now. Varian trudged through the snow up the walkway to his next-door neighbor’s home. The woman answered the door. Varian did not care that he was on the verge of tears.
“Please,” his voice a mix of frustration and pain. “Please come to my house with me. My dad is in danger. I don’t know if you can help. If not, I don’t know if I can - “
If I can do this alone , he thought.
“What’s wrong with your father, Varian?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder in comfort.
“If I tell you, you’re not going to help me.”
It wasn’t clear if it was pity or sympathy she was looking at him with. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”
Varian looked at his neighbor, knowing what her answer was going to be. He breathed harshly through his nose. Finally, he spoke:
“It’s those rocks, those stupid black rocks. Something happened. He’s probably already completely encased in the amber! I’ve asked every villager on the way back for help, I’ve asked princess Rapunzel for help. You’re my last - “
But as Varian pleaded with the neighbor, she, as all the others had, adopted that look of uncertainty and fear. He could see the false apology written in her face before she spoke it. He stopped himself from finishing his final thought. In an instant, his tone of desperation morphed into resentment.
“Forget it. I already know what you’re going to say.”
Varian turned from the woman and ran toward his house.
“Dad! Dad, I’m back!” He shouted before he had even reached the door. He pulled it open and rushed inside.
“Dad! Dad, the princess refused to help. But I -” his sentence was cut off at the sight of his father, completely encased in the amber. All of his determination and energy withered in an instant as he looked in horror at the sight before him. His father was in an eternal struggle to break out, escape, as he spent his last moments alone.
Varian threw down his staff equipped with different concoctions.
“Dad?” he asked as he ran toward the amber. There was no movement, no struggle. Not a word, not a grunt, not even a blink from his father. Could he hear him? Did Quirin know he was there, that he had come back for him?
“Oh no, no, no…” Varian beat his fists on the amber, as if sheer will was enough to break it. “No. No!”
Varian stared at his father’s face. His eyes were shut; he looked pained. Was it because he could not reach the paper his hand was outstretched to, or because the process of the amber creeping up his body had hurt? Either way, he had failed again, and his father had to pay the price for his mistake.
“Dad! Dad!” he pleaded to his father.
Varian could not stem the flow of tears. His gloved hands reached to touch his father’s face, which were met with the cold, glassy feel of the amber. Varian fell to his knees as he broke out into sobs, his hands still pressed against the amber to reach out for his father, for some form of comfort - that he wasn’t alone, that everything would be okay.
He did not know how long he knelt on the floor. At some point Ruddiger found him and curled himself around Varian’s neck, the animal’s way of consoling his owner. Varian removed a glove and stroked the raccoon’s soft tail. Ruddiger rubbed his cheek against Varian’s, which failed to draw a smile from him as it usually did, but Varian appreciated the sentiment.
“At least I have you.”
With all that happened today, it came as a shock to Varian when his stomach growled. He began to feel the symptoms of exhaustion, too. His eyes and limbs warred with his stomach over which should be tended to first. Varian wanted to do neither. How could he sleep or eat when there was work to be done? He approached his workspace, wiping his face of the dried stream of tears on his cheeks. Out of a drawer he pulled out two vials, one containing a clear liquid and one containing a swampy green. Something must be able to break this amber. Something .
A wave of dizziness hit Varian. He touched his hand to his forehead as he waited for the feeling to subside. Ruddiger nudged his hand away from the notebook he was about to start scribbling ideas in.
“If he doesn’t eat, then I don’t eat,” Varian spoke, his voice tense. Ruddiger chittered as if in response and jumped off the table, leaving Varian to himself. He looked at his father encased in the amber smack in the middle of his workshop, as if a reminder of what a screw-up he was. Picking up his pencil, he got to work. Alchemy could fix the problem, it always has.
Varian woke up hours later in his chair, his face pressed against the wood of his work table. He groaned when he felt a slight pain in his neck from the odd sleeping position he’d been in. It wasn’t the first time he had fallen asleep while working on new mixtures or inventions.
He sat up, and the glint of the amber caught his eye. His heart sank. For a few precious moments he had forgotten about his father’s condition, that maybe he had dreamt it. Again, he found himself staring at Quirin’s pained expression.
“I can’t do this,” he said pushing the chair from the table. He stood up and left the room to go make himself something to eat.
Varian’s eyes widened when he saw his first glimpse of the outside since he arrived back home. The window between his workshop and the kitchen showed that it was night, but the village was lit up enough by the full moon that he could see there was not a trace of snow, not even a cloud in the sky. It was as if it never happened. He marveled at how such a thing was possible, until his stomach protested again to go to the kitchen.
Once he had finished his very late lunch, dinner, midnight snack… whatever you might call it, which was only some bread - the only thing he had the stomach for - he returned to the staircase leading down to his workshop. He went to take his first step, but something stopped him.
Ruddiger returned as Varian looked down the flight of stairs leading back to his father. The raccoon rubbed against his legs in a fashion much too similar to a cat.
“What if I can’t save him, Ruddiger? What if I’m doomed to look at dad trapped in there like that forever? I - “ He paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I need to see mom.”
He turned around and walked back through the house. He entered his father’s room, setting a candle he had lit on the table nearest the portrait of his father, considerably younger, and his mother smiling; beaming down at a not even one-year-old Varian. She had died before he could form any memories of her, and yet still Varian felt a connection to her, and on days like these where he felt truly alone, where his father could not or did not console him, Varian spoke to his mother.
“Hey, mom. It’s, uh - it’s me again.” Varian rubbed the back of his head nervously. “It’s been a while.”
Ruddiger sat at the entrance to the room, watching Varian with curiosity.
“I messed up, mom. Big time. Dad’s in trouble, and I tried to get help, but the princess wouldn’t listen to me. This amber is just as hard as the rocks.”
“I don’t know what to do, mom,” his voice broke as he talked to the portrait. “I have no one to help me. I’m on my own and I don’t know if I can save him.” Tears were flowing now.
Varian looked at his mother staring lovingly down at her infant son. She would never look at him that way again. He would never know the comfort of his mother. He did, once, but he would never be able to remember it. He just needed someone .
“What should I do? He’s all I have left.”
Ruddiger ran to his side as he broke out into sobs. The animal rubbed its face on his ankles but he took no notice.
“I wish you were here. Dad said you always knew what to do.” He rubbed his eyes, but the tears would not stop. “I don’t want to do this all by myself.”
Varian sunk to the floor, crying and pleading with a mother he knew couldn’t hear him, couldn’t help him. It wasn’t much longer until sleep took him again, on the floor of the bedroom in front of his father and mother.