Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Varian’s face burns as he watches them from the distance.

He watches silently as Cassandra smiles at her father, her friends, who all smile back unhesitantly. He watches as people unflinchingly come up to her, place their hands on her shoulder without so much of a whisper behind her back, without even daring an accusatory or cynical glance her way. He watches, reminisces with nostalgic and sorrowful fervor, the privileges of being one of Princess Rapunzel’s closest friends. And, most importantly, he waits for the incoming rows of guards to surround the woman, the chains meant to shackle her hands and feet, the disapproving glare of King Frederic to condemn her for life (or maybe a few months would do as well-he was still slightly giddy from the sudden victory and how quickly everything had occurred), even for one of Eugene's witty quips as he will inevitably tell her that however glad he was to have her back, she needed to be interrogated and held under custody until there was a proper trial. He waits for the hesitation to dawn on Rapunzel's face as she pulls away. He waits for someone from the crowd to jeer, to throw things, to yell in protest. He waits for Cassandra to reap her "rightful due," for someone to finally show her that there was no one who could harm his friends and family without suffering consequences of some sort, even if that someone was a woman he had once respected greatly and regarded dearly.

As usual, his waiting amounts to nothing.

“We’re so glad to have you back, Cass.” Eugene instead states smoothly, his voice soft and kind, his eyes glittering with trust. Trust. Indignant envy broils in Varian’s chest as he watches from afar. Trust for which he had risked his life, time and time again, to earn. Trust that he had yearned for all his life, trust that he had fought tooth and nail for, trust for which he had rot behind prison bars and mulled in the dark depths of his own failures long after he had realized the grave depth of his wrongs.

“I always knew you would come back to us.” Rapunzel whispers, and a dark, gruesome part of Varian clamors at his heart, ramming against the interwoven net of optimism that he has deluded himself into believing ever since Rapunzel encompassed him in her arms, stared at him with such pride and understanding as she gushed about how she always knew he could tackle his fears.

“Well, thank you for never giving up on me, Raps.” Cassandra says, and Varian is suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of unbridled emotion as tears of utter frustration prick at the back of his eyes. He stands there, apart from the crowd, gawking as everyone else approaches and offers Cassandra some half-hearted phrases of consolation and udnerstanding, some appreciation for her return, even some apologies-apologies!-from people he has never seen interact with her.

He almost dares to remind them all of how they had just been brought to their knees in a life-draining battle against a demon of the otherworldly realms.

She sacrificed herself for Rapunzel, a part of him coaxes gently as he observes Rapunzel enthusiastically hug once more, heart melting at how she embraces her old friend so serenely, so utterly enthused with gratitude and relief. She helped defeat the demon and, at least partially, clean up her mess.

She also brought said demon. He refutes to himself as he finds himself too disgusted to keep his eyes on the scene of the Golden Trio united once more. She also did its bidding far after she knew who it was. She was ready to kill all of us for it, multiple times. He watches Rapunzel smile as though nothing had happened to her and to her kingdom, to all those whom she loved and protected-including him. He watches Rapunzel, his first true friend, his first believer and supporter, his first confidante, turn away from him and fix her eyes on her evidently better, evidently truer friend once more.

That was all well and good, except Cass perhaps hadn’t personally apologized to him for kidnapping, drugging, throwing, caging, hanging, and nearly killing him in the excuse to force Rapunzel into a fight. 

He had tossed and turned in a rock hard cot of a cold prison cell for months on the sheer memory of attempting to crush her rib cage in the metal fist of his automaton. He had even wept to Andrew once, swearing to him that he would have apologized had Rapunzel and the gang actually bothered to visit him before taking off to their journey outside of Corona’s walls. The man, of course, had rolled his eyes and told him that it clearly would not have meant anything to them, seeing as they had forgotten about him at the soonest opportunity, and convinced him that his only chances of forgiveness lay in completely erasing the memories of all whom he pitied.

“Varian?” Cassandra’s voice is a knife unaware of its sharp edge, cutting through the tense silence and convoluted net of thoughts he has tangled himself in, jarring him back to the unforgiving reality, the center of his whirlwind of concerns. He jolts back instinctively, the eyes that stare back at him, the voice that speaks so confidently to him, swiftly uprooting him from his reality and taking him back then-

Cold, unforgiving eyes, that observed as he scrambled to avoid the lash of her sword, that watched from her pedestal as the blunt edge of the black rocks shoved their way into his rib cage and carried his feet off where they shook, brutally throwing him against the cold stone floor.

Cold, unforgiving eyes aflame with dangerous magic, ready to slice through him without hesitance as the world erupted into a whirlwind of color and light, the shimmering coursing aura of black rocks searing at and ready to skewer his only lifeline.

Cold, unforgiving eyes that stared back accusingly as he fretted over the mysteriously accidental emission from his amber gun, fighting back tears of regret and shame and utter self-reproach as he watched Rapunzel crumple to the ground unconscious, watched Eugene lead them all into a crushing defense, watch the ignited series of events crumble every wall and rage through every crevice.

With Rapunzel and Eugene flanking Cass’ side in adoration, Varian supposes he should feel safe, even around the woman who threatened his and everyone else’s lives but a few moments ago. But he simply doesn’t. He doesn’t feel safe, with the loving and knowing way the three exchange and share kind glances with each other. He doesn’t feel safe, with the undaunted way Cass stares back at him almost expectantly, a foreign yet intimidating emotion scintillating in her grey orbs. He doesn’t feel safe, in the proximity of eyes that had been so unforgiving and pains that had been so justifiable for her.

But then-then Cass steps forward, remorse and concern written as plain as day on her face, and he barely withholds a gasp, stepping back unintentionally. She witnesses, she absorbs, she leeches off of the doubtlessly apparent fear in his face, skillful eyes crawling over the way he now realizes he has accidentally held an arm out and kept his foot braced back. And, sure enough, Rapunzel and Eugene don’t stop her. They don’t caution her from coming forward, they don’t stand in front of him in an understanding defense, they don’t even notice his discomfort. Rapunzel is smiling at Eugene now, and Cass is staring at him-where he stands alone, apart, refusing to appreciate or congratulate her.

Oh God.

Varian stares pleadingly over Cass shoulder at Eugene instead, hoping for the life of him that the man who had so affectionately praised him in the past few months, who had so proudly patted his back, who had so readily enjoyed working with him, would notice something, anything, and come to his defense without a second thought. After perhaps a minute of staring, Eugene’s eyes finally flicker to his own-and, in a fleeting, blinding bout of indignant rage, Varian watches the man smile. Captain Eugene Fitzerherbert, the very other half of Team Awesome, who had helped lead an assault to save his kingdom, watches Varian be approached by the greatest threat Corona has ever seen, and deigns to spare him one small, albeit charming smile, and returns to talking with Rapunzel as though he hadn’t noticed Varian’s discomfort at all.

Biting his lip and swallowing away the lump in his throat, Varian’s panicked eyes return to Cassandra, who now stares back at him with her full and undivided attention, simultaneous alarm and confusion splayed over her face. She is talking to him again, but he cannot hear what she is saying, not over the rush of blood roaring in his ears as the unsettling shock of the circumstance finally sinks into him deeply and fully. They don’t care. He had been a mere substitute for when Cassandra returned, an insignificant proxy they could use until the real friend, the true friend, the better friend returned, and he had been forgotten, cast aside. His accomplishments had been swallowed by her larger shadow, his hard-earned trust looking like and amounting to nothing in contrast to the throes of greater destinies and whims of greater people.

People like Cassandra, who had done the exact same actions he did, only not compelled by circumstance, and was saved by the very princess she had tried to kill in multiple unhesitant, gruesome ways. Cassandra, for whom he had slaved away only to be turned down in the end. Cassandra who had trapped him in a cage 50 feet above the ground. Cassandra, who had so readily emanated the sharp rocks that barely skimmed his pant sleeve, grazing his bruised skin as he clutched the bars of his cage for dear life to avoid being swept away when her forces and Rapunzel's clashed.

Falling from the tower. Falling from her tower. The rush of the breeze whipping hair in his face as his stomach hurtled and his heart soared into his throat, his mind whirring from an inescapable surge of sheer and unadulterated terror.

Cassandra reaches out an arm again-a careful, hesitating hand, as though trying to touch a wounded animal, and he remains frozen, petrified to his spot, knees weak and eyes wide, heart racing at a thousand beats per minute. Her hand doesn’t ever reach its destination, though, before Varian feels a much larger, yet more familiar hand lock on the shoulder Cassandra had meant to touch. His neck nearly snaps with how quickly he glances up to see his father’s face, the steel and unfeeling way his eyes bore back into her as though challenging the woman so arrantly, the deep lines of concern and age etched into his face and twisting around his small allowance of a frown. There is so much unspoken, and yet so much said- Quirin’s hand curls its fingers into his son’s shoulder tightly, as though cementing, defending, caring about the very thing Varian frets of so greatly. The father’s eyes remain locked on Cassandra, stoic and unfathomable, unrelenting and untouchable, and lips remain pursed, disallowing his frown from contorting any further from the bare bitterness that he has managed to convey.

Much to his utter gratitude and relief, Cassandra’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and the hope in her face falls just as quickly, draining her once-unforgiving, once-uncaring eyes of the joy and expectance she had dared to have, standing so close and so ready to amend things with him. Varian once again feels overwhelmed by guilt-perhaps she had been trying to talk to him- but he does not yet have the heart to tell his father that he was alright-he does not want to lose the only person who seems to, and possibly will always, give a damn about how he feels. Finally returning his gaze, Varian hopes that, like Cassandra, his eyes can convey all that he cannot say-the regret of not being able to listen to her despite how relieved he is that she wasn’t trying to murder them out of blinded and misguided malice, the frustration of having had to work so long and hard for something that he felt she was given the benefit of the doubt for, the envy when he realizes that Eugene and Rapunzel have finally been drawn to them, but only after sensing Cassandra’s discomfort and not his own. 

Rapunzel rushes over to Cassandra’s side, looks up at the slowly dampening expression on her reformed friend’s face, and then back at Quirin, who still adamantly and speechlessly stands his ground, brows heavy and hand cemented as they are for him. Then she gives him a look-whether it was out of pity or disappointment, he cannot quite discern, for it lasts about three seconds before she cheerily announces that they’ll be hosting a victory celebration, and that all of Corona was invited. Eugene watches him carefully, wordlessly, even after Rapunzel holds Cassandra’s hand and gently leads her away, not noticing how Varian’s tear-filled eyes follow her every move until she disappears from sight. Quirin, however, stays at Varian’s side, eyes wordlessly boring into the new captain expectingly, unnervingly, as though demanding an explanation.

Eugene clears his throat, a small smile forcing its way past his lips. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But it’s all over now. Nothing is going to harm Corona ever again.” Though Varian watches how hard his friend struggles to coat his words with layers of fruitless reassurance, Eugene’s gaze bores into him with another, more subtle vulnerability: pleading.

Did they really expect him to be alright with Rapunzel forgiving Cassandra on everyone’s behalf? 

Did they really expect him to smile along and forget all that had been done to him, all that he had been cheated of, simply for the sake of Rapunzel’s happiness at Cassandra returning?

Cassandra is not going to pay, Varian quickly realizes, hope shattering almost instantly and sinking its sharp, hot edges into his gut. Cassandra will be accepted back with open arms, without so much as a slap on her wrist, and he, one of her victims, is expected to accept that wholeheartedly, unquestioningly. He has to smile in the face of his butcher once more.

Varian feels his father’s expecting eyes burning into him, a gentle and comfortable weight among the insecurity and sheer indignant broiling deep in his stomach. He knows his father won’t speak for him unless he won’t speak for himself. But what can he possibly say?

“Say, I’ve always thought that party cannons were a good idea. What do you say we whip up something special for the dragon lady, you and I?” Eugene then winks at him mischievously, the natural charm, the kind light of his eyes, the special grin reserved for him returning, and for a moment, Varian wants to bask and indulge in it with sheer relief, relishing in the fact that he was still special, to an extent, to someone. But then the momentary rush of elation plummets at another star-struck realisation- they were only doing it for Cassandra. Eugene couldn’t possibly want to spend time with him sheerly for the sake of his company, as he did before-he had his best-no, his better friend back, his real friend back. The only reason they probably even needed him was for his skills-he had no value to them anymore, otherwise! All he could do now was slave away at fancy machines once more, lurking again in the shadows as he watches, with envy and indignation and sorrow and yearning, the friends that he can never deserve, even host a party celebrating the woman who had torn him down more times than he could count simply because Rapunzel had forgiven her.

“No cannons? Ok, yes, cannons are dumb.” Eugene stammers sheepishly at Varian’s unnervingly serious expression, rubbing the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to avoid Quirin’s murderous glare at all costs. “How about something for Rapunzel’s room, then? It will take time to rebuild. Who knows? Maybe we can find another treasure map, or some other ancient, dangerously deathly magical artifact only she can understand. There’s nothing like another game to keep our spirits up, eh? What do you think, buddy?” Eugene dons the smile again, but was it truly a smile for him? Or was it a smile of pity, thinking he could throw a scrap of kindness his way to remind him of how much he should owe Cassandra simply because he made mistakes?

“I don’t think it really matters what I think.” Varian finally replies, shaking off his father’s grip almost violently as he turns away and finds his legs quickly, desperately trying to carry him away from the numbing nausea, the sickening lurch of simultaneous self-condemnation and fury bubbling in his heart. Varian hears his father calling for him, but he does not stop until he is sure he has made it as far away from the crowd of now-boisterous Coronans as possible, his wounded heart thundering sorrowfully and painfully against his rib cage in protest to such exertion mere moments after he had been revived from a death spell, his chest quaking with an incoming bout of strangled, muffled sobs as hot tears cascaded down his still-dusty cheeks.

None of it had mattered. Nothing he did had mattered in the end. He hadn’t even helped defeat Zhan Tiri or Cassandra. His efforts, his relentless and exhausting attempts to earn back any shred of confidence he had salvaged after months of being condemned and spat at and whispered about-it had all been meaningless. It had all amounted to nothing, for someone else had been able to do it not ten minutes after she had betrayed them all. The fact that he and others had almost been killed meant nothing to his most trusted friends, his only friends. The fact that he still felt fright, a indignant sense of unfairness, meant nothing to anyone but Dad.

Speaking of Dad…

“Varian!” He hears the cry of relief from a mile away-quite possibly, the only person who can ever be relieved for him. Upon seeing his curled up form against the shattered remnants of another fallen wall, Quirin quietly breathes, “oh, son.” He hears the clatter of armor being torn off his father’s body and hitting the ground, the sorrowful way he coos at him, the barely audible crunch of debris as careful footsteps approach him. Then, strong and infallible hands holding him by the shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.” Quirin speaks surely and firmly, and, despite not knowing what exactly his father is trying to address, Varian finds himself not caring, latching onto the words and leeching the pure and honest love off of them because he fears, so greatly and so knowingly, that he won’t be getting it from elsewhere ever again. When his father cautiously encompasses him in his arms, Varian throws his arms around his neck and squeezes back powerfully, relishing in the smooth fabric underneath his fingers, the soft and steady breaths of the only assurance he can cling to for however long he must believe it to be true. 

He is unaware of how his own silent weeping escalates into wordless sobs, exhausted and aching and still unconsoled as fresh remorse claws its way through his heart, his father’s grip as tight as the constricting worries that now besiege and embed into his troubled mind. 

Dad now frequently told him the words he had always yearned to hear. So why was that not enough? Why was he still so unhappy?

Has he become ungrateful? Varian considers this with a refurbished sense of self-loathing. Has he become ungrateful, expecting more than just his father’s hugs, his father’s pride, his father’s kind and honest words? Has he has become ungrateful and-and selfish, wanting his friends to care about what he thinks and feels so many times? Was it so much to ask for the very people who had convinced him that they cherished his company, his attention, his smiles and laughter and fun, to simply care that he felt so alone and afraid, even after he was supposed to feel happy for them?

Was he, the boy who did everything to prove himself and his worth, the boy who had gone to great lengths to earn back the trust that had been so readily snatched from him the moment he had called for help…. selfish?

Was he morally obliged to forgive her?

The most jarring question still rings in his mind: did Varian, who had been given a chance at re-integrating back into society, owe that much to Cassandra?

Sniffling, Varian finds himself being pulled away ever so slightly, his father’s familiar palms cupping his cheeks, the still-kind thumbs swiping away at his still-falling tears. A soft, prolonged kiss against his forehead, cautious of how he still trembles with suppressed sobs of frustration and sorrow, unhappy over the happiness of everyone else. Then, a careful line of words, hanging heavily in the tenuous silence as the sun beats down merrily on a world saved and his soul shutters irreparably over the friendship he thinks he has lost. “If they can’t see how much this hurts you, then perhaps they don’t deserve you.” Quirin whispers to his son.

Varian closes his eyes tightly, not willing to see his father’s kind and honest orbs when his own glistened with such...such unforgiving sentiments. But no one had asked him for forgiveness for the wrongs he had to face alone. No one had turned to him with kind, sympathetic glances, until they felt he had ‘earned’ it. No one had given him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, just maybe, he didn't owe Cassandra anything. Because however much Varian knew what it was like to make choices in a state of hopelessness and despair, he also knew what it was like to pay the consequences, to live in eternal fear of screwing up and giving that one person another purposeful excuse to mistrust him, slander him, hurt him again.

But I want to deserve them. Varian realizes, as Quirin gently hauls him up by the arm and takes him by the shoulder once more, beginning to walk in the direction of their home without a second glance back at the castle. He wanted to deserve Team Awesome. He wanted to deserve Eugene and Rapunzel’s kind words, kind glances, kind endearments. He wanted to deserve the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to deserve being able to walk the streets without being awashed with terror at the memory of guards pillaging through his home whenever he saw a palace horse, the suspicious and accusatory glances that persisted despite the incredible feats he had achieved, the dark imprint on the back of his mind where he tried to forget about the constant doubt in everyone’s eyes, the haunting doubt that still lurks whenever he holds a screwdriver or pipettes a chemical or looks his dad’s way searching for traces of the pride he desperately hopes to remain real and permanent, however ‘earned’ it should have felt.

He thought he had overcome it, and he thought that would mean something. He had become someone, after all. He had forged himself by convincing himself that he had earned everything they had sent his way, for better or worse. And in the end, this was what he had ended up with- the status, the constant reminder that though he was a friend, he was certainly never a valued friend.

Nevertheless, staring back at all he had foolishly deluded himself into believing was his, Varian wishes he could have such forgiving eyes.

Chapter Text

Quirin prepares dinner for one child and three adults. Or rather, for one adult and three children. He sighs as he balances the tray of food, knocking on the door to his son’s room and walking in without waiting for a reply. He stops in his tracks, observing with simultaneous amusement and annoyance at what can only be described as a literal barricade around his boy.

Varian had resorted to silently burying his face into his pillow as soon as they arrived home, lying limply on his stomach and not moving ever since. Adira and Hector just so happened to follow suit (They had apparently arrived with them - Quirin hadn’t bothered to figure out how long they had been following along until they scared the ever-living shit out of him by wordlessly walking in through the door right behind him). As of currently, Ruddiger sadly crooned from his perch on Varian’s back, not inciting the slightest reaction from the boy. At his feet, Hector’s gigantic bearcats curl up peacefully, weighing the bed down as they slumber. 

Sure enough, Adira had resorted to resting her head back against the headboard of Varian’s bed at a reasonable distance from the sleeping boy, allowing one hand to rest palm-down and flat between Varian’s shoulder blades as her fingers tapped in thought. She paid no mind to Hector, who was slumped sideways against Varian in what Quirin would normally have found to be a suspiciously adorable manner, had he not been hit with instant alarm at the still-unsheathed sword dangling out from his armpiece.

Sighing deeply at the knowledge that the man wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon (and Adira wasn’t going to help matters any), Quirin carefully approaches, flinching when Hector snorts in his sleep but deftly unbuckling the the weapon nonetheless without any further distraction.

He spares a quiet glance to the metal arms Varian had built over his bed-one for pushing away his blankets, one for combing his hair, and two for retrieving his slippers. He had quietly put a cloak over the lever that controlled them all, not daring to imagine what either of his brethren would do if they decided to test it out.

“You know, I am still trying to fathom what just happened.” Adira finally states, eyes slightly glazed form where they were fixed on the spot in space.

Quirin shrugs. “Me too, sister.” He sighs tiredly as he tries to make room for himself on the occupied bed, hesitating before carding his fingers through his son’s hair soothingly. He was in his full consciousness now, Quirin tries to convince himself, as though repeating the thought in his head over and over again would assuage the cold, unbridled terror and doubt he still feels when initiating any touch with his son after all that had happened. He wouldn’t hurt Varian. The mind trap was gone, the moonstone neutralized, the demon destroyed. Nothing would hurt his boy ever again.

“No, really.” Adira insists again, finally locking eyes with him. “What the hell just happened, Quirin?”

Quirin pauses, contemplates the question deeply. Should he even bother to trace back the frenzy of events that had been the destruction of his home in the past mere 48 hours while he himself had been trapped under a mind-numbing enchantment, swimming in the cold abyss of thoughtlessness and enraptured by the distant, muffled sounds of his son calling out to him, promising him that he would be fine? The unsullied horror, the sheer hopelessness that had petrified his every limb, commanded the deathly swing of his pitchfork and the utterly unwelcoming yet overwhelmingly familiar feeling of rushing blindly into battle against his will? The prodding, painful panic at the back of his mind, the awareness that the next person he hurtled to the ground could have been his son-that his boy was witnessing him become a mere puppet to life-threatening forces outside of his control, and Varian could do nothing but watch as his father twitched and roared and seized under the sheer weight of distant yet deathly agonies he could never begin to understand? “I don’t really know.” Quirin settles on saying, gently turning his son’s head to the side and keeping his eyes fastened to the barely perceptible twitches of Varian’s eyebrow, using his thumb to rub away at the small creases in his forehead as worries beyond his age settled in. Varian isn’t asleep, but rest would do him good. Some rest, some break, some time would do them all wonders.

Adira twirls Varian’s protractor in her other hand-she knew better than to keep her sword close by-eyes fixated on a spot in space. “On one hand, Short Hair rectifying her mistakes saved our lives. On the other-I admit I am a little surprised that there were no repercussions whatsoever. I never thought it would come to this of all things. I knew from the beginning she was troubled, but even I didn’t think she would go that far. I don’t know what to think. I want to thank her, and I know that dying while battling the demon couldn’t have been very pleasant, but I still cannot help but feel…used. Used and unheard. Why did we ever agree to willingly serve a cause that could mind-control us into doing so anyways?” Quirin opens his mouth to answer, only for Adira to continue talking without waiting for his reply. “Of course, I thought it was over…to an extent, at least.” Adira slowly delineates, thrumming her fingers gently on the child’s back. “I thought things had changed since then. I thought they all had changed.”

“Things have changed…in more ways than one.” Quirin finally relents, watching the way Varian’s eyes flutter open halfway to stare up at him, still glazed and bloodshot from crying. Pressing a cautious kiss to his temple, Quirin wordlessly taps at the bowl to indicate that it is mealtime, but Varian merely blinks at him owlishly before burying his face back into the pillow, arms limp at his sides despite how Ruddiger begins to nose against them, chittering in protest.

Quirin hushes the distressed raccoon and coaxes him into his arms, running a finger through his thick coat. “Give him time. He will be fine.” He assures despite the concern and uncertainty he feels. Shifting the raccoon into the crook of one arm, he allows his spare hand to gently weave his fingers through his son’s dark hair as well, hoping it will soothe him somewhat.

“Are you fine, Quirin?” A third voice suddenly asks, and Quirin’s head jolts up to see Hectors calculating eyes observing him carefully.

“Of course I’m fine.” The worried father manages, struggles, grinds out with every ounce of optimism he can muster. “My home and family are safe, my past has been confronted, and the demon has been banished. Corona will be fine for years to come. We will live long and happily in this very house, and Varian will be-”

“He asked if you were fine, Quirin.” Adira finally speculates, dark eyes tracing his own with curiosity.

Quirin stares at his brother and sister in arms, quietly contemplating the question deeply. “No, I’m not fine.” He finally says, the free and sudden surge of anger striking fear into his heart and compelling him to quickly move his hand away from Varian’s forehead. He fights the urge to run out of the room, for fear that the dark, unfamiliar anger will take over again, and he would nearly hurt Varian without knowing it again. “We all could have died. We did nothing to Cassandra. We had nothing to do with her or her problems, and yet, we were forced to wield weapons against those we loved-those we cared about. I could have hurt him. I just got my son back, and I could have killed him without even knowing. And now, with the magic locked away and the demon banished, we are to assume that the very person who concocted this entire scheme is perfectly sane, able and free to walk amongst the people she has terrorized.”

Quirin keeps his gaze focused on Varian’s sleeping form. “Do you know what it was like, when Varian first told me about what had happened while I was freed from amber?” He asks, lifting his eyes to meet Adira and Hector before returning them to his son, frowning as the memory slowly trickles into his mind’s eye, wistfully and with every bit of sorrow still throbbing fresh in the mark it had left on his heart. “He told me about all the things he had done, but all I could think of was him rotting away alone-in his own home, his village, his prison. He had acted like I could never forgive him-he had been that afraid that I would never come to terms with everything he had done, but I still couldn’t understand for the life of me why he had been alone for so long. Who had been watching over my boy, as he quite possibly, nearly starved to death? Who had been watching my child, after I, his only parent, was incapacitated and possibly dead?” He feels Adira’s sympathetic eyes boring into him, but now that he’s so immersed in his own thought he finds there is little that can faze him now. “Do you know what the worst part is? He actually looked surprised when I asked him these things! Had he asked for help? Why hadn’t he been answered? Why hadn’t anyone checked on him after such a horrible event? Why was he thrown in with a terrorist when the king had promised him help? Why did it take him helping the Saporian takeover in a final attempt to win back forgiveness for anyone to finally realize that something was wrong?” He blinks back tears as the sullen memory wilts away, allowing for a more recent one. 

“I thought it was over, seeing as Princess Rapunzel had fixed the issue and taken charge of things, and I had tried to become more honest with my son. I thought the injustice, the dangers, the lies, the deceit was all over. I thought that if sheltering Varian had backfired so badly, perhaps allowing him to dabble in this new world as he pleased would mean he would stay out of trouble.” Quirin allows a small smile at the faint memory of his son catapulting himself to his chest, beaming elatedly up at him as he told him he was being given an important assignment by the princess herself and would be gone for five weeks’ time. The smile fades when the father remembers what happened next. “And yet, Varian was still kidnapped by that moon witch. She drugged him, did you know? Tossed him around like he was nothing, hung him in a cage, forced the princess into a battle so great that it sent him flying off of her tower. He tried to hide his injuries from me, from his friends, until he collapsed the next morning at the mere effort of leaving his bed, and the serum was still effective, so he ended up telling me everything anyway. It was a mere week before I found him leaping at another opportunity to help his friends, to help Corona, despite my warnings for him to stay out of it. I tried to tell him, but he would become upset, and then I knew I would have to let him go, because I kept thinking that if he had had such good friends since the beginning, he wouldn’t have felt so alone when I had been encased. That, if anything were to happen to me, he could rely on his friends. And-” Quirin swallows away the remorse clawing its way through his throat with every word. “-and Varian thinks so highly of each and everyone of them. Their trust, their wanting him to come over to the castle for adventures and projects, meant everything to him, and I didn’t want to take such a happiness away from my child after all he had been through.” Heaving another sigh and bring his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, Quirin closes his eyes as he tries to sort out his thoughts.

“I respect all of Varian’s friends greatly still-I owe them so much more than I could ever imagine, for the meaningful presence they have in son’s life as well as my own. Princess Rapunzel and her friends are quite possibly the closest thing Varian has had to a proper family in such a long time. But I still cannot help but wish-“ He swallows. “I wish they would remember that though they are Varian’s friends, Cassandra is not. Cassandra is not the friend of any whom she endangered-and that does not only exclude my son or us. The entire kingdom was willing to fight her-she had very nearly destroyed it, after all. And we had been mind-controlled into fighting for her, against our will, when we did nothing to her. I wish I could understand the Princess’ decision-I wish more than anything to forget the fact that Cassandra had not given a second thought to the possibility that I, or you, or you-“ He emphasizes to Hector, who jolts awake from where he had begin to nod off. “Could have killed someone we loved.”

“Beats her. There’s no one I could have hurt that I actually cared about.” Hector mumbles triumphantly to himself, before stopping at the withering glares sent in his direction. “Except maybe you two. And this little one.” He flicks Varian upside the head, though the boy doesn’t budge. “Although technically, I wouldn’t have hurt either of you, since we were on the same side. But really, all of you were perfectly capable of defending yourselves, including Varian. Did you see the stun mechanism he rigged your helmet with?” Hector cackles in appreciation. “Genius. Maybe I can get him do mine for fun. See what it’s like.”

“Have you been listening to a word I just said?” Quirin exclaims irritantly, only for the man to huff and immediately slump back on his perch against Varian’s back, rolling his head back to indicate his chagrin.

“Varian would think it’s cool.” Hector grumbles under his breath, eyes suddenly locking on his bowl of food as his brief bout of anger fades.

Quirin ignores him and continues. “When King Frederic’s memories were erased, I though it would be the end of it. I don’t think I ever can forgive him for refusing to help my son in his time of need. And when he let the princess take charge, I was more than glad that I would barely ever see his sorry face again. I understood why he was never held accountable for what he did to Varian or others like him-he is the king, after all. As much as I hated that he went away free, I thought I could live with it. Varian acknowledged his wrongs and struggled to make up for it by helping Corona at every opportunity he possibly could. I acknowledged my wrongs, and struggled to make up for it by trying to be a better father. Even the Princess acknowledged her wrongs, by making up for her promise and including Varian more often in their activities. I thought everything would be fine.” Noticing his hands trembling, Quirin inhales shakily and tries to clasp them together, feeling the slivers of every fear that had entered his mind since the battle began weave their way into his conscience. “I confess myself…confused as to why such standards do not apply to Cassandra, when she aided a demon hellbent on destroying our kingdom, our homes, our lives. I am confused as to why the fact that we were controlled by a rock and forced to hurt people who wouldn’t hurt us seems to have no weight in this arbitrary, personal forgiveness based solely on the fact that Cassandra is said to have died in battle. Well, we too were crippled by the death spell. I cannot help but wonder… did we need to have died for Cassandra’s actions to finally be seen as the crimes they were, for the princess to properly held her accountable? Would the princess have rescinded her forgiveness of Cassandra if she had later found Varian’s dead body hanging from a black rock? Would those who had once spat down at and abandoned my son in his time of need, those who have now forgiven Cassandra, retained their affections if I had been incidentally skewered by my own pitchfork?”

The cold, heavy silence lapses over the three former warriors, each lost in their own minds, humbly relishing in having agency over something that could have easily gone so wrong so quickly.

“Varian seems fine. He has good friends, he has you.” Adira tries to soothe, wrinkling her nose as Hector directly lifts the bowl to his mouth and begins to snarf down the contents hungrily. “Thinking this way isn’t good for you, Quirin.”

“Varian has great friends, but he is not fine. I am not fine. I-I am so…incredibly… angry, and I want Varian to be able to feel angry, too, without thinking that he has no right to care if he had died from a 50 foot drop, or a misaimed rock, or a death incantation, or even by my own pitchfork. I acknowledge that Varian has hurt people in his short lifetime, and he will never forget that-but should that really mean that no one ever acknowledges he was hurt, too?” Sighing as he pulls his hand away from Varian’s hair, Quirin feels his lips twitch in sorrow, remembering when he had rushed into his son's room to find him sprawled with his eyes downcast and his torso stained with blood, remembering the shame with which Varian would turn away from him after another nightmare, another run-in with a disgruntled citizen, another failed invention for which he would cry into his shoulder and finally tell him how afraid he really was to hurt anyone ever again. “This is supposed to feel like a victory. We won, didn’t we? We’re supposed to be fine, aren’t we?”

No one answers him after that, until Hector sets his bowl down with a loud clamor, elicit a jolt from his brethren as well as a startled, now wide awake boy. Varian frowns irritably from where he lifts his head, blinking and rubbing at his eyes as he tries to glare up at the man.

“You know what? To hell with all of this.” Hector leaps to his feet, waving his arms animatedly. “We just defeated the greatest demon of all time and you both are here moping. I was just freed from a lifelong, soul-binding contract to a rock, and I sure as hell am not going to be celebrating it with you two depressing old crones. I’m going, with my favorite nephew-“ he boasts, pointedly raising his voice in emphasis and pinching the rock still boy’s cheek a little too roughly, eliciting a roll of the eyes from Adira and an irritated frown from Quirin as he tries to pry his hand away. “And we’re going to go have fun together.”

Varian flinches uncomfortably as he pushes away the man’s arm, slumping as he carefully sits up and stares at the floor. Quirin tries to rub his arm comfortingly, trying to wordlessly coax him into eating his untouched broth.

“He has a point, Quirin.” Adira sighs softly, setting aside the bread she had been tearing chunks out of and gracefully swirling her spoon in her bowl of broth to avoid Quirin’s incredulous glance. “It’s time to move on. The princess has clearly made up her mind, and sitting here fuming about it isn’t going to do anything except make us feel worse. The fact of the matter is that we’ve won. We’re done. Besides, I doubt Short Hair will be pulling a stunt like that ever again, considering the princess finally reunited the ancient powers and sent them back to where they belong.”

“Speaking of moving on, what’s going to happen to you two?” Quirin questions, feeling some relief when Varian leans his head on his shoulder. Tapping the boy’s shoulder to ensure he didn’t sleep again, the father pushes the bowl and bread his way.

Hector shrugs, yawning as he stretches his arms. “Not sure yet. We have yet to relocate Edmund, but to be fair, I’m not looking forward to seeing that old nut anytime soon.”

“To be fair, he was under the control of the talisman, too. He had as little agency in it as you did.” Adira says, dipping a slice of bread in her broth without looking up.

“He’s a king.” Hector barks a hollow laugh, much to Quirin’s surprise. “He chose to take away our agency. He can never be our equal in pain, just as we can never be his equal in power.” Quirin opens his mouth to disagree, to defend and say that Edmund had been a good king and father too, to say that leaders often sacrificed the most, only to close it again after some thought. What did he know of good kings, anyway? The only two kings he had ever served had both been fathers-and still, both had turned out to be somewhat incompetent, untrusting, hypocritical-one moreso than the other. His blind faith in both had nearly cost him his life too many times to count-not to mention his home, his family, his friends. Feeling more disappointed than before he came, Quirin resorts to keeping his eyes trained on Varian’s slouched form, rubbing away at his arm silently to make sure his son knew he hadn’t forgotten about him.

Adira pauses, looking at Quirin’s bemused face questioningly before turning her attention back to her meal. “You’re being uncharacteristically disloyal.” She carefully observes, eyeing Hector suspiciously.

Hector huffs, a wide and brilliant grin spreading across his face. “Do you know what this whole ordeal taught me? That I’m expendable. Worthless. That my life amounted to essentially nothing. That this whole problem we’ve been revolving around could have simply been solved ages ago if we had merely not done what we actually spent our whole lives doing.”

“You mean…if you had actually listened to me?” Adira points out haughtily, smirking at Hector’s irritated frown. The man ignores her pointedly.

“So I might as well go ahead and do what I enjoy, with the people that I should have spent more time with, for the little time I have left.” He dons a small smile then, resting an arm against Quirin’s shoulder and leaning over. “You know, perhaps we should be thanking the moon witch-er, Short Hair. Had she not taken the stone, we would have spent our entire lives in hiding, fearing it and the rocks it grew. Had she not taken over Corona, we would never have come back together again. And had she not helped defeat Zhan Tiri, we would all be dead. She may have walked away free today, but so did we. And as much as I hate the girl, I could never be more thankful for that.”

Smiling, he then loops an arm around Varian’s shoulders, and much to Quirin’s surprise, the boy does not try to move away. “You, little man, are going to show me more of those wicked contraptions of yours, and tell me how each and every one of them works. Starting with that one.” Hector points at Varian’s guitar, which has been sitting quietly in the corner for months.

Sighing exhaustedly despite the small smile crawling its way into his eyes, Varian nods, sniffling and rubbing at his face.

“And we are going to raid the pantry, and laugh about stories of your blessed dad trying to hold a sword for the first time.” Hector concludes with a smug sense of finality, a mischievous grin twitching his lips as he pulls Varian out of bed, plucks the guitar from its lonely corner, and begins to lead him out the door.

“But I made dinner!” Quirin protests half-heartedly, not seeing Adira surreptitiously snag Varian’s untouched bowl and begin shoveling the broth into her mouth.

“I already ate!” Hector calls out from where he disappears.

Quirin sighs, unable to stop the fond smile from tugging at his lips. Perhaps, even if things did not fare best at the moment, they did have a chance of becoming better after all. He only wishes the good days will last as long as they can. He only wishes he can embrace his son without hesitating, look at his reflection in his metal helmet without expecting the distant blue glow of his eyes, drift off into his own world of fears without thinking of all of the ways he could have hurt his boy, without remembering the cold abyss of nothingness he had been suspended in for what seemed like an eternal sleep. Quirin only wishes he could look at his son’s friends the way the boy saw them, the way they had seen him - with forgiving eyes.

…

“A trip?” Varian echoes almost incredulously, looking up from where he had been trying to feed Ruddiger. The raccoon was especially fussy after being turned back from a beast.

“Just for a bit.” Quirin nods, not looking at him as he pushes away a pumpkin in the cart and dusts his hands off of his pants. “To clear our heads. Get out on the road. You haven’t been properly out in a while.”

“But why now?” Varian presses, turning to face his father fully as the raccoon begins pawing at his boots.

“King Edmund arrived this afternoon while you were…occupied.” Varian blushes but gestures for him to continue. “He was inspired by Rapunzel’s spirit and seeks to rebuild our old home, wanting to bring us along as well. And as much as we may love having Adira and Hector around, those two aren’t quite built for this kind of life. Seeing as you’ve been warming up to them, I thought you might want to get to know us better.” Quirin waves a hand to himself. “All of us.”

Varian’s mind whirs at the sudden rush of possibilities, settling on one uneasily startling point as he picks Ruddiger up. “We’re going to the Dark Kingdom?” He asks, bewildered.

“Only if you’d like. And just for a visit.” Quirin hastily clarifies, looking at him with a small, reassuring smile. “Adira and Hector may be staying there with Edmund to rebuild, but we will come back in about two weeks’ time, if we borrow a balloon.”

Smoothening his fingers through Ruddiger’s pelt as the raccoon relaxes in his hold, Varian frowns and continues to watch as his father hauls another pumpkin into the cart. “Dad. Do you think I have good friends?”

Quirin pauses, lips pressed into a thin line and brow furrowed in thought as he thinks about his answer. He allows a few minutes before continuing to slice the roots off as though nothing had happened. “I think you have fantastic friends, Varian.” He answers honestly, carefully. “That shouldn’t mean you can’t disagree with them. It certainly doesn’t mean I can’t disagree with them.”

Varian frowns again, dissatisfied with the answer and gently putting Ruddiger down. He finally asks the question on his mind. “Are you trying to keep us apart?”

Quirin freezes from where he was about to move the pumpkin aside, setting down the knife and turning to face Varian fully. He comes forward, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Of course not, Varian. If you would like to stay, I’ll gladly stay with you and tell the others to go without us. I just thought…now that everything is over, you might want to take a whiff of life outside of Corona for a bit. You haven’t even been outside of the walls, after all.”

“Yeah…” Varian relents, drawing his eyes to Ruddiger’s contented expression in thought. Rapunzel had been telling him of the amazing journeys she had went on, and he had swooned at the mere thought of. But it just didn’t seem right, leaving right now, after all they had been through together. He wanted-no, he needed time. He wanted time to collect himself, time to think about where he wanted to take his life, time to contemplate what he would now do in his spare time. “But I like it here, too.” Varian swiftly adds, hoping his dad wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Quirin smiles-a practiced, cautious, yet nevertheless honest smile. “It’s alright to love something and still need some time apart, Varian.” Before Varian can properly think of it, the man pats his shoulder encouragingly. “Run along and think on it, alright? It’s fine if you decide not to.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, Varian reaches for Ruddiger, struggling to pry the raccoon from the pumpkin he had begun to munch.

 “And son?” Varian nearly jumps when he realizes his father is still there, towering behind him. “I left some biscuits and juice at the counter.” 

“What for? I already ate.” Varian says, not wanting to delve into the details of Hector’s legendary pantry raid. His father was going to be livid when he saw the actual mess they had made. As if on cue, Ruddiger scurries off.

“It’s for your friends, of course. For when they come.” Quirin simply replies, patting his shoulder again and kissing the crown of his head.

Varian frowns in confusion. “What makes you so sure they will come?” He asks in as neutral a tone he can manage, but he looks up to see his father has already disappeared.

Upon feeling a nudge at his foot, Varian looks down to see Ruddiger struggling to drag the neck of his guitar between his teeth. Clucking his tongue in mild admonishment, he offers the raccoon a small smile before picking up the instrument and following him back to the door.

…

“Hey Varian!” Varian yelps in surprise from where he had been adding a few drops of baking soda slurry into the homemade volcano for his uncle. It wasn’t so much a surprise at the voice, more like the fact that Hector had immediately unsheathed his sword and kicked Varian behind him one single, swift motion, leaving the still-slightly clumsy boy scrambling from the sudden movement. Blinking in confusion, he turns to glimpse over Hector’s shoulder at Rapunzel and Eugene’s bewildered faces.

“Oh, hi!” Varian breathes elatedly, momentarily forgetting the distant, dull ache of the fresh wound on his heart at the sight of his friends. It isn’t until Hector gives him a confused glance that he remembers. “Um…you can put the sword down.” He awkwardly says, trying to push Hector’s arm away. “Really. It’s just them.”

“Just us?” Eugene echoes at the same time Rapunzel chirps “Yep. Just us!” 

Holding his glare for a minute longer, Hector does not move from his defensive position, calculating eyes crawling over the couple. He’s looking for Cassandra, Varian realizes a little too late. Upon seeing no trace of her, the man finally retracts his sword, wordlessly coming to stand beside him without acknowledging Varian’s slight discomfort. Varian carefully and nervously tucks his hands behind his back, twiddling his thumbs anxiously as he forces a smile and waits for his friends to speak.

“…You can leave now.” Varian finally whispers to Hector, blushing in embarrassment when he notices his friends are still nervously staring at the older man’s unmoving form.

Hector treats them to another full minute of his deathly stare before slowly backing away, not turning around until he has reached the door.

“So, uh…” Varian rubs the back of his neck and forces an awkward smile, trying to ignore the suddenly loud clutter of his uncle tripping his way through the hallway. He had yet to get used to closed spaces… “What are you doing here?”

“We just came to check on you! You left so soon. Eugene said you seemed upset, and we got worried.” Rapunzel replies cheerily, acting as though nothing had happened.

Eugene nods in agreement. “Mind if we come in, buddy?” He asks kindly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Uh…actually, that’s not…necessary.” Varian stammers. “You know, you’ve already checked on me. And, as you can see, I’m fine. So…I’m sure you’d rather be with Cassand - Cass, right now.” He quickly corrects himself, both yearning and dreading their reaction.

To his amazement, neither of them move. They exchange sad glances before Rapunzel speaks up. “We actually wanted to talk to you, Varian.”

Varian turns his head to the doorway instinctively, looking for any signs of his relatives and hesitating before asking slowly. “…Did my dad send you?”

Rapunzel and Eugene frown at each other, seeming genuinely confused. “Eh…no?” Eugene finally replies. “We don’t need anyone to extend us an invitation to see our favorite kid.” He quickly adds with a charming smile.

Varian struggles to contain the wave of simultaneous surprise and dread that eludes him, smile wavering as he wrenches his hands away from where they had been nervously clasped together. No. Say no. It’s too soon. You can’t do this. “Oh! Okay.” He says a little too quickly, waving his hand towards the door. “Come right in!” He hopes it doesn’t sound too cheery, too out of place. But lying had never been one of his better qualities.

Rapunzel and Eugene saunter in, carefully seating themselves at the couch. As he carefully pours the juice his dad left into three cups and pulls out his plate of biscuits, Varian notices Eugene lean over and whisper something to Rapunzel, before a brief, solemn worry dawns on the princess’ face. Then she nods at the man, recreates her smile, and looks directly at Varian with her kind, lovely eyes when he quietly hands over the snacks.

“Where’s Cassandra?” Varian quickly asks before she has a chance to proceed, sitting stiffly down on the couch opposing his friends.

“She’s resting. Being revived from death is draining as heck, and I can’t argue with that.” Eugene chuckles softly. Rapunzel looks between them and smiles-a look of relief. It only riddles Varian with further guilt; she is probably thinking that things were better now. That there is actually nothing to be concerned about. 

“What’s going to happen now?” Varian asks, picking up his cup.

“To Cass, you mean? She was considering leaving at the soonest possibility, to find her own destiny. I’m sad that she’s leaving, but I’m also glad she’s finding a life outside of herself. I should be happy for her-she’s choosing her own path, carving her own fate. I guess I’ve owed her that much, all along.” A look of remorse awashes Rapunzel’s face as she stares at her untouched cup. “I just wish it hadn’t taken this much for me to see it.”

Varian can only stare, suppressing the bile rising in his throat. “Y-yeah, definitely.” He agrees absent-mindedly, inwardly berating himself at how stupid he must sound.

“Ah well, I suppose she will be happy. It’s a shame she won’t be staying for any more kingdom-bonding activities, though. We had only just rebuilt the throne room, but since the whole palace was destroyed again, I was thinking we could do another treasure hunt. Only this time, of epic proportions!” Rapunzel waves her hands enthusiastically, her cheery voice drifting and seaming through the tense silence.

“Varian, are you okay?” Eugene suddenly asks, concern and alarm lacing his voice. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Varian freezes, staring at both of them as they await his answer expectantly. He could straight up tell them how fantastic his day had been…and he wouldn’t exactly be lying, either. He has started reconnecting with his family, thinking up new experiments, spending time with his raccoon…“Of-of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” He replies as cheerily as he can manage, ignoring Eugene’s skeptical frown. “We got Cassan-Cassie back, I have an aunt and uncle, and Corona is saved, all thanks to you!”

“Yes, well, we couldn’t have done it without you, buddy.” The brief doubt in Eugene’s face fades momentarily, replaced by an appreciative grin.

“Actually, you did.” Varian says without thinking. “But-but that doesn’t matter! Ha!” The chuckle comes out watery, awkward and stumbling into the uncomfortable silence. His friends immediately exchange quizzical glances, knowing something is wrong.

“Varian, are you alright?” Rapunzel asks tentatively, her concern visible in the way she sets down her drink and stares even more attentively at him.

“Y-yeah.” Varian stammers immediately, struggling to maintain the neutrality, the nonchalance, the uncaring and flippant tone for but a minute more. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because if something is bothering you, you should tell us.” Eugene encourages, carefully setting his glass down as well. “We’re all ears, buddy.”

Faintly, Varian hears familiar footsteps further down the hall, and silently clings to the hope that his father or one of the chaotic knights will appear, and that would perhaps distract his friends, and maybe he wouldn’t have to go through with this. However, the footsteps stop, as though the owner had heard their conversation, and begin to fade away as they go back down the direction they came.

Varian inwardly holds back a sigh of exasperation. Definitely his father, then. He had known they were coming-he had known, and he had trusted that Varian would be able to handle it on his own. The boy stares down at his lap as the realization bolsters his resolve, his fingers beginning to nervously tap at his thighs. “It was just…really quick, that’s all.” Varian finally relents, trying to look anywhere but their concerned eyes-their kind, forgiving eyes.

“The victory?” Eugene asks sympathetically.

“…Everything, I guess.” He simply replies, not lifting his eyes from the plate. 

A startled understanding dawns on Rapunzel’s face, her lips twisting and her eyes sparkling with recognition. “You’re upset about the celebration, aren’t you?” Rapunzel clarifies. Varian remains silent, looking away for dread and fear of what she is about to say. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it so soon. It’s obvious that everyone is still shaken up after what happened. We should give everyone time to recuperate, rest and come to terms with things. But I am putting an award ceremony along with it, to appreciate everyone who contributed and boost morale a little.”

Varian blinks as her words sink in. Rapunzel hadn’t seemed to grasp it yet. He supposes he can’t blame her-it would be much easier if he simply told her. Well, Rapunzel understood part of the dilemma…maybe it was best to keep it that way. The last thing he wants is to sound as ungrateful as he feels. “I’m not upset. I just don’t want to come.”

“Why not?” Rapunzel says, concern clearly shimmering in her eyes as she leans forward slightly. “It’s going to have an award ceremony. You have to come, you’ll be a guest of honor! It won’t be the same without you! And we have a little surprise waiting, especially for you.” At that, she shares a knowing smile with Eugene, who beams back just as cheerily despite the doubt in his eyes as he turns back to gauge Varian’s expression.

Varian struggles with his response at first, feeling a little intimidated by his friend’s undivided attention. He then decides to stall telling them for as long as possible, seeing if dropping subtle hints would feel any more comfortable than downright saying what bothers him. The last thing he wants to do is to catapult his “complaints” on them, elicit the wrong reaction, and end up losing them for good. “For what? What are you going to reward me for? The trans-dimensional portal, which was destroyed before we could even use it against Zhan Tiri? Or-or-” A hollow chuckle escapes his lips as he desperately finds something on to compulsively latch onto before he unravels completely. “How about my stupid little amber gun?” Every word he says sears another shard into his heart-the hours he had put into carefully sketching every detail, the elation he had felt when Eugene offered to try it out with him, the half-hearted jokes about old times as he and Eugene chortled while painting Cass’ scowling face on wooden dummies.

“I was going to say ‘for standing and fighting valiantly by our side,’ but yeah! Those things were impressive feats, too!” Eugene agrees, his smile looking as strained as Varian’s. It crumbles a little when the boy does not respond further. “Although, I wouldn’t call it stupid. You and I worked on that for hours, and I’d say it worked pretty well…while it lasted, anyway.”

“And if I didn’t, things would have still ended up the same.” Varian replies morosely, the trickles of a bad idea seeping into his newly confident mind. “Well, maybe not. Maybe Cassandra would have actually reconciled with you if my stupid gun hadn’t malfunctioned.” He feigns looking upset, peeking out from the corner of his eyes to gauge their reaction. The realisation had hit him hard after they had all run away from the island, gutted him with shame over the moping he had been doing all night, before he had triple-checked his mechanisms and deduced that he couldn’t have been responsible for the fiasco. Of course, he hadn’t told anyone in assurance, but to be fair, no one had found it in them to properly point fingers at him for it as he had feared, too shaken by Cassandra’s takeover of the kingdom.

“That wasn’t your fault.” Eugene soothes instantly, but Rapunzel bites her lip, looking away in thought.

“He’s right. It was mine. I’m the one who approved of the project.” She speaks solemnly, remorse etched into her small frown.

Varian blinks, frowning as his expectations are thrown out the window. “What are you talking about?” He asks, genuinely confused at first. “It’s a good thing you approved it. It helped us defend Corona for as long as we could, didn’t it?” Varian presses further without bothering to mask the barest traces of despair, drawing Eugene’s alarmed expression.

“We wouldn’t have had to defend Corona at all if we hadn’t treated her like the villain in the first place.” Rapunzel explains quietly, consciously brushing away a strand of her newly brown hair. Varian blinks absently, struggling to process the quiet words until-

Wait…

What?!

Varian nearly chokes on his drink, slamming the cup onto the table. “Are…are you serious?” He suddenly bursts, standing up and dropping the facade, alarming his friends. “Do you think that would have stopped her? She had tried to kill us all by that point! We weren’t allowed to feel a little skeptical, a little afraid?”

“If Cass had actually intended to hurt anyone, she would have done so while we were all out and about, not waited to try and talk to me.” Rapunzel briefly looks at him when she speaks with a foreign emotion, but then turns her head to the side, eyes squinting in thought. “I think she had come back to Corona because she wanted forgiveness, but when she thought we had stopped reaching out to her, she just passed out all of her pent-up rage and wounded up unintentionally hurting people.”

Varian stares at her for a few solid minutes. He pretends to furrow his brow in thought, picking the cup back up and sipping from it. “Maybe she didn’t intend to hurt anyone.” He slowly speaks, the reality enveloped in his words too sweet and clinging painfully to his teeth. “Maybe she only intended to hurt you, and had no qualms about hurting anyone else to do so. After all, that is why she threatened to kill Eugene back at the Tower, right?” He spares one glance up at Rapunzel’s startled face, inwardly upset with himself for having the audacity to bring such a heavy and unwanted memory after such a pleasant victory. “Or…maybe you’re right, as always. Maybe she unintentionally knocked you unconscious when you tried to reach out to her. She unintentionally tried to skewer me after I tried to reach out to her. She unintentionally flung Eugene around on her blunt rocks moments after he tried to reach out to her.” Turning to Eugene, Varian drawls. “See Eugene, I told you we really should have just left Corona completely undefended.”

Eugene frowns in confusion and opens his mouth to retort, but Rapunzel hesitantly interjects. “You’re upset about Cass?” She finally asks, as though the very notion of such a thing bewilders her. She was surprised?

“I’m not upset.” Varian quickly defends. “Like I said, everything happened too quickly for anyone to really process anything. You know, except for the fact that for the first time in the past 21 years our lives aren’t in actual danger from an obscure mystical object anymore. Thank you for that again, Princess.”

“…Sure, no problem.” Rapunzel simply replies, face scrunched and eyes burning into him as she struggles to read his expression and tone. “Varian, whatever is bothering you, we can work it out. Just tell us what’s going on. Bottling things up never did any good for anyone.”

“Is that what made you forgive Cassandra so quickly?” The question slips out of his mouth unwillingly before he can stop himself. He feels remorse swell in his heart-Rapunzel was being kind, understanding even, and he had gone and ruined it like the ungrateful friend he was.

“Oh Varian, is that what this is about?” Rapunzel says, but it sounds mellowed, pitying, as though she thinks he is jealous. He wasn’t jealous! “I don’t understand what you’re so unhappy about. You of all people know what it’s like, to want forgiveness above all else, to deserve a second chance.”

I’m unhappy because it seems I’m the only one who knows what it’s like to struggle and work for forgiveness, when I had next to no chance. “This isn’t her second chance.” Varian slowly says, carefully selecting his words as though he is treading a tight rope over a canyon, where the slightest breath out of place will cause his hope to plummet before he can reach the end. “This is her fourteenth. Or maybe her sixteenth? I must've lost track, what with the whole conquering Corona, constant threat to life, facing a demon, actually dying.” He hadn’t meant to make that sound as sarcastic as it came out, but he internally winces as he watches the words take their effect, dawning on Rapunzel’s face like a shadow. “I almost missed the part when the king forgot to sentence her.”

“Dad won’t sentence her; I told him about her situation and how she came back to us after all.” Irked by the blunt statement, Varian nods along with Rapunzel, despite how he wishes to ask if King Frederic would be so forgiving had one of them been hurt in battle. “And what could he have done? Punishing her wouldn’t have done anything. She has hurt enough.” Rapunzel argues. “She apologized. She felt remorse for what she had done. And she made up for it by cleaning up her mess.”

Partially cleaning up her mess. Varian wants to correct. The mess she’s made of other people’s lives in the past year, not so much. “I-I know. I don’t mean you should punish, or-or imprison her, or anything. Absolutely not.” He hastily clarifies. He didn’t want Cassandra to suffer as he did!…Did he? Reaping the consequences of her actions even after Rapunzel had forgiven her didn’t have to mean punishment…did it? But then, why would forgiveness mean there was no compensation at all? Surely, even if he didn’t owe Cassandra anything, Cassandra owed something to the kingdom she had destroyed, didn’t she? Even if she wasn’t to be imprisoned, it made sense that she would have to struggle for their collective forgiveness, didn’t it? That she would help clean up her entire mess? “I just think-well, why can’t she stay to rebuild? Why leave so early?”

“Cass is tired, Varian." Rapunzel says softly, as though he wouldn't understand. "She fought Zhan Tiri alongside me. She died for me. Because I think Cass has suffered enough and it would be better for her to change her environment, I offered everyone monetary compensation to rebuild their homes, jumpstart businesses and the like. Eugene and I were actually planning to go rejoin the effort soon. Her staying won’t do her any good.”

Varian nods despite wanting to protest, interject, say something snarky. He hums in what he thinks sounds like an agreement. “I’m sure she is. Tired, that is.” Varian says, tapping his finger against his glass. “We’re tired too, you know, after she threatened your life, your kingdom, your friends.” Your friends. Not mine. Your friends. 

Rapunzel’s eyes snap up from where they had been staring into the cup of juice, the liquid sloshing as she carefully sets it aside without breaking eye contact with him. “I know.” She says measuredly. “That’s why we’re rebuilding after the celebration. We just need to clear the courtyard of debris, and maybe put a few streamers here and there. Everyone is given time to reprieve.” Her fingers tap thoughtfully against her knee before she finally asks. “Varian, why does Cass being forgiven bother you? She risked her life for me-for all of us. She was fighting for us.” Us. There’s always an “us.”

“So was I, when she nearly impaled me   and let me fall to my near death.” Varian quietly says. “So was my dad, when she controlled him with an enchanted talisman to try and stop us from saving our home. So was Eugene, when he was beaten up and nearly killed by his dad and the Brotherhood to free them all of said talisman.” From the corner of his eyes, Varian notices Eugene flinch slightly and shift uncomfortably in his position, though he maintains eye contact with Rapunzel. Hands quaking, Varian clutches his apron in a deathly tight grip, digging his fingernails into his legs and ignoring the light sting. “I know Cass is your best friend, Rapunzel, but you aren’t the only one who could have died. Not all of us had magical hair when Cass clashed with your powers at the tower. Not all of us had the privilege of an entire kingdom willing to fight for and support us and our every decision, to help us in our time of need.” Gritting his teeth and inhaling so sharply he could have sworn he heard a faint whistle, Varian struggles to maintain his gaze, knowing the anger, the accusation, the questions he wishes to ask are all set ablaze, and fearing they will shy away from the fire in his eyes. “Some of us saw our parents try to kill us because of a rock! Some of us could have been impaled, mutilated, murdered when Cass conquered Corona! Some of us were actually inches away from death while you and your best friend took on a demon that she herself had freed! Some of us wanted to believe that being caged, or drugged, or kidnapped, or nearly killed would mean something to you, maybe possibly more than just the hope that you would get your friend back!” He hasn’t realized his voice escalated above a tone necessary for respect, but at the moment, he doesn’t particularly care.

Rapunzel seems slightly taken aback from the sudden list of concerns, though something quick and bright flashes in her determined eyes, her relentless eyes, her ever-forgiving eyes. Her tone becomes defensive, stern, almost shrill even. “Why would you think that doesn’t mean anything to me? Of course it does. Every sacrifice you and every other Coronan was willing to make was meaningful. Everything that this country and its people have gone through was meaningful. But how on earth does my forgiving Cassandra equate to this crude conjecture that I don’t care about my subjects?” From where he sits, he can see Rapunzel’s fists clench. “Why should me finally getting through to Cass be mutually exclusive to me wanting what’s best for this kingdom?”

“Wait-“ Varian drops his tone and shakes his head, closing his eyes as he tries to recount what he had been told. “You did get through to her?” He questions, honestly confused.

“Well, not exactly.” Rapunzel delineates at her normal volume, slightly startled from the sudden shift in tone. “She kind of… opened up to me herself.”

“When she took your sundrop?” Varian asks again, feeling confused. Maybe Cassandra did have her regrets when she was so close to winning after all. Maybe he had been unfairly judging her-maybe Cassandra had stopped herself from taking the sundrop, hesitating when she saw Rapunzel in pain and reconsidered the destiny for which she was destroying everything in her path. Maybe, like him, Cass had realized she was wrong so close to the thing she thought she had yearned, and boldly turned back and refused the opportunity, stood up against the tempting whispers and emerged with the resolve to make it up to everyone after all. That sounded like the once brave and wise Cassie he knew. That sounded like Rapunzel’s best friend and Corona’s best swords woman, Cassandra.

“When Zhan Tiri took her moonstone and transformed into her true self. Zhan Tiri trapped us both in a cage, and I tried to get Cass to help us get out, but she kind of just…broke down and apologized right there.” Rapunzel explains.

The hope and admiration plummets, leaving a cold dread in its wake. “So she took it when she lost. She had every intention of continuing her plan otherwise.” Varian clarifies, a cold chill running down his spine. It wasn’t our reaching out to her that changed anything-it was someone else physically getting in the way. What had Cass intended to do once she wielded ultimate power? The implications of the question causes Varian’s blood to run cold. Would she have hurt them? Would she have hurt Rapunzel? All of this time, of trusting in Cassandra and knowing that she would come around-she could have been planning to ruin them, all along. They thought they had been getting closer to getting through to their friend, while they had actually been getting closer to possible doom-

“She didn’t intend to kill anyone once she gained ultimate power.” Rapunzel quickly adds, possibly upon seeing Varian’s crestfallen face. “She just thought she would prove to everyone that she was more than what they said. Varian, you know Cass.” The last sentence sounds like an insistence, a plea for his conscience to remember a Cassandra-no, a Cass before they had left him in the prison-a Cass-no, Cassie who he had helped with chores, a Cass who had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder when his own father turned away from him. Not…not the Cassandra that had encased him in a cage of black rocks or hung him 50 feet above the ground, not the Cassandra who had pushed him away with her rocks or sliced at him with her sword, not the Cassandra that had so easily mind-controlled his father. Varian looks down at his lap, hoping that he does not have to meet Rapunzel’s gaze for fear that he will disappoint her with the silent answer in his unforgiving eyes. Did he know Cassandra-not Cass-not Cassie, after all? 

“If Cass had actually meant to kill anyone, she would have succeeded!” Rapunzel tries again. “But in the end, she didn’t kill anyone-“ 

“Because of dumb luck.” Varian inserts, unaware of how his voice rises in irritation or how Eugene begins to shrink back at seeing the heightened squabble.

“-Because she was only troubled from years of pent-up rage and denial, and lashing out as a result. Zhan Tiri is the one who had been whispering in her ear.” Rapunzel insists, a shadow casting over her face. “Zhan Tiri is the one who tried to convince Cass that there wasn’t any hope left for her, and that the only way to get what she wanted was to take over Corona. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have even considered trying to attack us.” Hearing Rapunzel defend Cassandra so adamantly, Varian tightens his grip around his cup to the point that his knuckles whiten as he forces himself to stay quiet and properly listen to all she has to say. “The fact that she repented proves that the real Cass had been in there all along. It was my treatment of her and Zhan Tiri’s whispers that drove her to become like this, and I acknowledged my mistake! Besides, me reconciling with Cass actually helped the kingdom in the end. Can’t I be a good queen and a good friend?”

Varian allows a few moments of silence to pass, summoning every ounce of self-control he has left to swallow away the dark and familiar anger that threatens to lash out. “Your…treatment of her?” Varian echoes incredulously, feeling the rage morph and weld into something else. “What-did you or Zhan Tiri abandon her for three months after the biggest storm of Corona hit? Or vilify her with a fake rumor to the point that she couldn’t even leave her own home to ask for help without being pelted by junk and chased around by angry citizens? Or besiege and pillage her home to force her into silence about an issue you couldn’t face? All while she thought she had become an orphan?” Varian pretends to frown in disgust. “Hm, that doesn’t sound right. Oh, that was your dad being a good king to that ungrateful wizard kid in Old Corona! It’s a good thing he had friends who did actually check up on him before he was chased out of his own home and onto the streets, or who didn’t try to arrest him the minute he had gotten what he believed to be the only cure to his father’s imprisonment. And thank goodness his friends reached out to him and offered him help months before he found a way to contact them personally again, only after he had broken the law for the first of a number of times. It would have been so weird if he, like-” Varian waves his hand in a feeble attempt to look as absent-minded as some teenagers he had seen talk, though he detested anything that didn’t sound like proper English. “Had to spend 11 months with a grown terrorist all the while never having a chance to appeal for trial again, and felt he had no other way of being forgiven unless he literally wiped away the memories of all those he terrorized.” He pretends to wistfully wave the fact away uncaringly, the hollow bark of mirthless laughter alarming both of his friends to no end. “I am so sorry. For a second there, I thought we were still talking about the lady who hung me in a cage and willingly left you to die in a cave filled with poisonous gas. You know, the same one who mind-controlled my dad, decimated your entire kingdom and is making a break for it before we can rebuild. My mistake.”

Varian dwells on the stunned silence for a little longer without bothering to look up at their reactions, taking one swift sip of the vile juice and setting it down before he takes the final blow. “But no, I’m really glad Cassandra and the king both apologized to you. You know, for talking down to you, making you relive your trauma and the like. That was by far the worst thing they both had ever done. I’m glad to see that you got over it, and you had the unparalleled compassion to forgive them on everyone’s behalf without anyone else’s input. I am your friend, after all.” Varian bites out bitterly, overcome by remorse and courage when he finally meets Rapunzel’s startled gaze and grinds out his last words. “I would really hate for you to feel like you hadn’t been listened to.”

Rapunzel stares at him for a few minutes, a sorrowful, remorseful sentiment hidden just behind her thoughtful eyes as she plans her response. “We can’t change the past, Varian.” Rapunzel replies smoothly. “We acknowledged our mistakes and we grew from them. You and I have already reconciled. Besides, I forgave them because they changed, and were willing to do what was best for Corona. They changed for Corona, and I'm sure most of the citizens of Corona agree.”

“No, Corona has changed. Corona is changing because of you, and your stellar leadership. And…I’m so happy for you, Rapunzel, I really am.” Varian tries his best to insert the positivity whenever possible, though it becomes increasingly difficult to do by the minute. “But your dad didn’t change. He merely stepped down to let you take charge, and that means he only changed his opinion of you. Not about what he’s done to other people, including me. If he had changed at all, he would have actually listened to what I had to say instead of giving me life in prison without a trial when I told him that I was ready to change. If he had changed, I would have turned to him, and not the Saporians, to start earning back forgiveness.”

“But you did get your forgiveness, in the end. And so did Cass.” Rapunzel insists, visibly confused at what he is getting at.

“What exactly did you forgive her for?” Varian asks. “You forgave her for trying to kill, disempower, humiliate you. That’s fair. Can you forgive her for almost killing me in the process? Or Eugene? Or my dad? Or any of Corona’s citizens? Do they forgive her for it?” Varian wrings his hands to quell the anxiety that arises with his boldness, struggling to remain deep in thought as the reality of what he says fills him with a euphoric yet distant sense of power. “Would you have forgiven her if I had actually died? How about for my Dad? I know he’s not exactly top tier in your personal circle of friends, but he is kind of important, since he is a subject, and a village leader and…. you know, less importantly, the only family I have left.” Varian feels his voice waver under the strain of tears at the mere thought of it, the old and ready fear prowling back into his mind and feasting on the insecurities boiling in his chest. “Speaking of subjects that aren’t your friends, how about Monty? Or Xavier? Or Old Lady Crowley? Or Feldspar? Did you ask them if they forgave Cassandra for rampaging their homes, destroying their livelihoods, nearly skewering them? Or is their collective, undying love of Cass saving her from staying long enough to actually rebuild and clean up her mess entirely?”

Rapunzel pauses and listens carefully, face falling and lips pressing together into a thin line as she processes every word and thinks it through. At his urgent tone, however, she frowns. “If they did have such a concern, they didn’t express it to me. Maybe it’s because they know that Cassandra has changed. We all have. The fact that she wants forgiveness means she realized what she did wrong. Just like how you were after we found you with the Saporians, remember?”

There it was. The unwanted comparison. The unbridled, unrestrained, unrepentant truth, the very thing he had been pondering the moment he had seen his friends embrace. Just like you. Was Cass still, somehow, just like him? The powerful surge of guilt nauseatingly jolts up into his throat like bile, and he violently beats down the treacherous thing before it can hinder his words any longer. Cassandra was-

Not like you!

You lost your nerve, you lost your game.

But you and I, we’re not the same.

I’m not lost - this fate was mine to choose.

“That is not the same!” Varian finally seethes, allowing his voice to escalate as he whips around to face his alarmed friends. Yes, technically, he and Cass had both conquered Corona, and had been willing to die to clean up their mess as a result, leading Rapunzel to believe that they had been redeemed. But Cassandra’s situation was still different from his, and even she had admitted to that. He had tried to hurt as few people as possible when aiding the Saporian takeover. He had stopped at his second chance when he had come out from next to none. He had turned on Andrew the moment the man indicated that he intended to hurt people. He had joined Rapunzel when he had been on the winning side, simply because he had thought about what he had truly wanted. And yet, he had still been a cheap paper template, a cardboard cutout of the more important friend, the friend for whom the guilt he had felt when he awoke to his father’s tearstained face, hovering above him and hushing him after another nightmare- the constricting grip of fear wrangling his chest as he climbed a ladder to retrieve apples for Ruddiger, dizzily overwhelmed and staring down at the faraway ground, thinking of all of the possibly ways he could fall-could be so easily disregarded, as meaningless as he. “We are not the same!”

I wouldn’t have tried to kill you, not willingly. He wants to add to the distressed princess, but he fears he can hold back his tears no longer. I would have hesitated. I knew I had stooped low enough. I knew when it was time to stop.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say you were. I just meant that maybe, you and Cass are much more similar than you realize.” Rapunzel instantly presses, ignoring how the half-hearted apology draws a dark glare from Varian and an alarmed, discouraging glance from Eugene. “Varian, what makes you think Cass isn’t hurting after what she’s done, too? What makes you think that she’s having a better time than you did, that she isn’t facing people who are still terrified of her?”

Varian clenches fistfuls of his apron and inhales sharply, digging the heels of his palms into his knees and stiffening where he sits. He suppresses the urge to lash out, to yell. His voice instead seeps out dangerously quiet, so sure yet so restrained. “Similar.” He repeats the foreign word almost incredulously, keeping his gaze trained on Rapunzel’s troubled expression. “I’m sorry, princess, but I don’t seem to recall Cassandra earning back the trust of the people she nearly killed, or doing anything to prove to everyone she’s terrorized that she wouldn’t pull off something like that ever again.” Varian shrugs in what he hopes is an uncaring matter. He lets the full, heavy minute pass before. “If I had known that all I had to do to be properly redeemed was to throw myself at your feet, cry my eyes out, and then quickly die when trying to undo my mistakes, I would have done it the moment you returned, instead of allying myself with insufferable terrorists, instead of jumping at every opportunity to prove that I could be trusted, instead of nearly killing myself trying to clean up Cassandra’s messes more than once because I felt like I owed something to this kingdom after what I had done despite this kingdom also leaving me alone in my time of need.” He suddenly wants to add in a snarky comment of his own for good measure, the unbridled anger and hurt manifesting into a dark and familiar tendency to compulsively pull at any and every complaint he has ever had from his mind and scissor it onto his tongue.

“How can she make it up to you, then?” Rapunzel finally responds just as angrily, standing up quickly. Wrestling down his initial alarm and the voice yelling at him in the back of his mind to stop, stop it before you say something you regret, Varian doesn’t back down, and neither does she. Conveniently, neither of them hear Eugene’s tentative “guys!” in the background. “How exactly does she ‘compensate’ for how you simply feel, when everyone else is more than happy to have her back? She was apologizing to you personally, if you hadn’t acted like you’d seen a ghost and run away so fast. What do you expect me to do, Varian?” 

Eugene immediately stands up and places a careful, almost warning hand on her shoulder. “Rapunzel.”

Shaken by the sudden question, the confirmation of everything he had been fearing and dreading since the final battle ended, Varian violently pushes down the urge to back down, to succumb to the wilting resolve and building doubt that is ready to replace his resentment in the instant. 

Fortunately for him, Rapunzel instantly realizes her error, doubtlessly from gauging the reaction from his own face. Pulling back and patting away Eugene’s hand, the anger in her eyes begins to slowly fade, though some of the former irritation lingers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that. It’s just so difficult to try and help you when you don’t straight-up tell me what’s bothering you.” Varian sits down quietly,  watching with guilt clawing at his chest as Rapunzel sits down as well, sighs, closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and finally opens them. “Please try to understand. I can’t simply lock her up or put her to trial because you want that, or you went through a similar process. Time and people change. Most of Corona has forgiven her.” Looking between the two, Eugene sits down last, leaning forward as though he was ready to interfere again.

“Again, I’m not saying you should lock her up simply because that happened to me. Nor does she only have to ‘make it up’ to me. She still owes something to everyone she has hurt, even if she’s been forgiven.” Varian argues, trying to keep his voice neutral despite how it strains as the weight of what she had just said fully settles in, suffocating him as he struggles to stay afloat in this conversation. “I acknowledge that she felt remorse and tried to help you defeat Zhan Tiri. I just don’t understand how you alone get to forgive her for what she did to the entirety of Corona-including my father and I- while I had to bend backwards to earn the forgiveness of everyone in Corona, to prove that I had grown and could be trusted and wouldn’t ever hurt anyone again. But maybe I should have expected it, seeing as you alone also forgave your father for how he abandoned and ostracized me, without me having a say in any of it, and he seemed to be completely trusted with giving me the help I needed.”

“I forgave you after you helped with the Saporians, Varian. What you did afterwards was an added effort on your part to regain the people’s trust, and we all greatly appreciate you for it. It’s not as though anyone could have held my dad, the king, accountable. Besides, I’m going to be queen soon.” Rapunzel says not a minute after he’s finished, and Varian quickly realizes that she incidentally misinterpreted what he had meant to say. “I’m going to make decisions that you don’t agree with.”

“I know that.” Varian replies indignantly, his patience weaning. “But why should that mean you don’t acknowledge how it will affect other people? People who can’t have a say in how the person who hurt them gets to pay the consequences or even be set free, only to have to get along with it because the person meant to be responsible for their wellbeing made a personal decision rather than a legally or objectively sound one?” At Rapunzel’s troubled expression and Eugene’s confused frown, Varian inhales deeply, mentally steeling himself for what he is about to do. It may not be the best argument, and if he plays it wrong, it could end very badly-for both sides of the conversation. “How would you feel if Eugene forgave your dad for locking you up without asking you, without caring about your opinion or how it affected you? Or-“ Varian winces as a painful memory arises. “-if your mother forgave me for tying you to a metal screw and forcing you to help me, after it hurt you so? Princess or not, you can forgive anyone you please on your own behalf. But even as the princess, how can you forgive Cassandra on my behalf or my father’s? How can you forgive her on Hector’s, or Adira’s, or Monty’s, or Feldspar’s, or Xavier’s, or Crowley’s, or even Shorty’s behalf? We are actually in our rights to demand a trial. It’s just that no one would, after all of the fiasco that’s happened. Barely anyone agreed with your pardoning of me, either, which is the reason they would spit at or point fingers at me when they knew you weren’t looking, instead of actually confronting you about the judgement.” Varian spares a quick glance towards Rapunzel, whose face has blanched in shock, and to Eugene, who has pursed his lips into a bitter frown. Turning his eyes back to where his hands are clasped together at his knees, Varian begins to slowly speak again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring any of that up. It’s not the same thing.” He apologizes honestly before proceeding. “Don’t get me wrong, Princess. I am very, very grateful that Cassandra realized she was wrong. But she hadn’t wanted forgiveness for what she did to everyone, or else she wouldn’t have endangered everyone the moment she thought you had considered a weapon against her, even though. Cassandra wanted validation. Validation from you. And I don’t really think I should even talk about her reasons, or her circumstances, because none of those things mattered to anyone even after I had figured out how wrong I had been. I-I understand that Cassandra chose you in the end, and I’m really, really happy that she did turn around to try and partially clean up what she started-honestly, I am! But-” He swallows away at the thick lump in his throat, knowing he cannot back down now. “Did you really think allowing her to walk free when we were all just revived from the dead was a good idea? Didn’t you think that maybe, just maybe, my dad could have hurt himself, and I could have lost the only family I had left, simply because she thought she would look better than you when she had attained total power? Or does my falling from the tower, my father becoming mind-controlled, the kingdom being drained of all life, just comes second to your friendship?” He thinks morosely of all the times Rapunzel and Eugene had come over to his house, pulling him along for another adventure into the woods or another project they could work on together or simply another afternoon picnic in Corona Park. He thinks of all of it and yet wonders if any of it had been real, or rather, really for him. “All this time, we all thought we weren’t chess pieces in the greater board of things between you and Cassandra-maybe to her, but not to you. Cassandra didn’t think of any of us when she tried to come to you, hugged you, and asked you for forgiveness. But that makes me wonder - do you really think of us at all?” He finally dares to ask, dares to meet what he dreads are their still-forgiving eyes before he loses his momentary courage.

Us. Not me. Us.

The disheartenment on Rapunzel’s face changes, morphs and contorts into something more sympathetic as the understanding and surprise dawns on her face.

Despite how the stress of the day finally crushes him, Varian is not aware of his tears until one trickles down his cheek and drops onto his lap. Instantly mortified, he drops his gaze and hastily rubs at his face, praying his friends didn’t notice. He wants to spare any respect they have of him, after all, and he can’t really tell how much that will be once this whole discussion passes.

A few seconds pass before he hears shuffling, but he does not dare to look up, even as he feels Rapunzel sit at one side of him and Eugene on the other. The couch he sits on creaks with the shift in weight, and his shoulders quiver in his desperate attempts to withhold his sorrow. Then, a careful, gentle weight curls around his back, a firm hand clasping over his shoulder without moving him in the slightest. “Do you know what made us believe in giving Cass a chance at all?” He hears Rapunzel ask, her voice devoid of the argument and accusation.

Varian bristles, keeping his eyes on his lap. His first thought flies to Eugene, who is doubtlessly staring at Rapunzel in that affectionate way he always does. Biting his lip and blushing darkly, Varian chooses not to answer. He loves his friends, and he loves that they love each other, but now is not exactly the time he would tolerate them being openly affectionate or romantic. Heck, he could barely stand it on normal days.

Instead, Eugene places a careful hand on his shoulder. The touch is grounding, and Varian clings to its familiarity, the silent sentiment behind it so undeniably warm and tender despite the prominently bitter anger still raging in his chest. “Looking at you, buddy. Seeing that we left you alone-that we made you feel alone, and second to everything else that had been going on. We realized that maybe, seeing what that did to you, it wouldn’t be such a good method for anyone else, including Cass.”

The remnants of Varian’s urge to smile at the beginning of the sentence fades immediately after it, and so suddenly, the grounding touch becomes jarring instead. A sour, vile taste blossoms at the back of his throat, unwillingly shoving tears back up his eyes. “I was just a test-run, then. A failed experiment. It didn’t work out for me, but it’s a good thing it told you to try something different for Cass.” He speaks slowly, trying to process the information as his heart constricts on the little hope he had been feeding himself. He wants to laugh at the irony-the scientist was the experiment all along-but it is so incredibly difficult, with the new and heavy ache in his chest pushing at the tears brimming in his eyes. He should feel flattered, not hurt or used. He should be grateful that they think of him at all. “So the fact that I came about half-decent was just lucky.”

“That’s not what he meant.” Rapunzel clarifies, sitting in front of him and gently placing her hands on his shoulders. “Seeing you so willing to make things up to us-seeing you so strong and ready to work your way to the top despite how you had fallen, really changed how I thought of second chances, even after meeting Eugene. Seeing how much you had grown despite how you had been abandoned like that gave me reason to have that faith in Cass, as long as I didn’t abandon her. I would never want anyone to go through what you did, because you proved to us that people like you, including Cass, deserved better. Because you became better, and in time, so will she. There is more in her, just as there was more in you, and there always will be. I only wish we had realized it sooner for you. Maybe-” Rapunzel inhales shakily, and Varian can practically see a memory of his old self coruscating in her sad eyes-his maniacal, horrific, disgusting old self. “Maybe if we had, we could have helped you sooner, too. And-and we're sorry we didn't help you sooner.”

People like me. Including Cass. Varian slowly lifts his head, glaring back as best he could through the heavy blur of tears. Instead he is met with sad eyes, humble eyes, sorrowful eyes that ask for forgiveness instead of holding the forgiveness he used to seek.

“And if any of you had been hurt, I wouldn’t have hesitated to hold Cassandra accountable.” Rapunzel then says with unwavering conviction, locking eyes with him to demonstrate how determined she is to get the message across. “If any of you had been killed, I don’t think I would have forgiven her as I just did. And the same would have gone for you. My subjects are my friends, and they are all important to me. You all stood up for me, after all, and were willing to fight for me to the very end. I could never have asked for a better kingdom, or for better friends.” She gives him a small smile before her face falls, and she solemnly, cautiously looks at him, as though she is afraid to reach into his eyes and prod at a volatile, unpredictable thing that can reawaken, look at her with accusation, frown at her in contempt. Of course, Varian doesn’t do either of those things-he is far too taken aback by her kind eyes, her patient eyes, her unrelenting eyes.

“I’m sorry, Varian.” Rapunzel finally says, and the words sound almost foreign to him, though he’s sure he has heard them before. “We never meant to give you the impression that we didn’t care about how you felt, or what you’ve been through, or what you expected. I guess I have yet to properly handle the messy thing that is our court of law, and-” she casts her eyes at her hands, biting her lips in thought before returning her sincere gaze. “You are right, to an extent. I should consider that other people won’t and probably shouldn’t forgive or welcome Cass back with open arms. I might have even entertained the thought once, but I just though her leaving would fix those concerns. I know how Cass suffered, but I also know how my people suffered. I didn’t think me forgiving Cass would make you or other people feel that way…and I hadn’t even thought of it that way, seeing as no one other than you has expressed these concerns. But in hindsight, maybe I should keep that in mind, too, because however much Cass does mean to me, our friendship isn’t more important than everything that these people have been through-everything you all have unfairly had to go through.” Placing her hand on Varian’s shoulder again, Rapunzel continues. “I should acknowledge that knowingly or not, Cass did endanger and could have hurt a lot of people who had nothing to do with her problems-and maybe, those people have good reason to disagree with my decision. My forgiveness…shouldn’t mean there aren’t any consequences for hurting other people, and I understand that.” 

Varian looks up at her curiously, but she responds to his silent question before she can ask it. “However, I’ve already made arrangements for Cass’ leave, so I’m hoping it partially takes care of that side of things…but at the same time, instead of rescinding my decision, perhaps I can learn from it and make a better one next time.” Varian frowns in slight disappointment, though it is difficult to retain any of the previous anger, feeling utterly drained as he is and latching onto the traces of logic in her words.

Scrunching his face in thought, Eugene leans back, eyes cast at the ceiling in thought though his hand remains latched onto Varian’s shoulder. “It’s strange, though. I’ve never really thought about it that way, either. Forgiving someone shouldn’t always mean you don’t care about the other people they’ve hurt. But then, what would you do?” He questions, sounding a little baffled. His eyes momentarily turn to Varian, but the boy merely shrugs, still a little frazzled from the quick emotional high.

Crossing one leg over the other and humming in agreement, Rapunzel sighs, resting her chin in the crook of her palm, curling her fingers against her lip and tapping her chin in thought. “Maybe-maybe there’s a way to make all of my subjects feel heard.” She says slowly. “Maybe I can encourage them to come to me and tell me openly about the things that bother them, instead of making them feel compelled to point fingers at pardoned people behind my back. I don’t want them to feel like they have to forgive someone who hurt them simply because I did, and without a legal basis too.”

Eugene nods, and Varian watches as he squints at a fixed spot in the floor. “Or maybe it’s possible to legally pardon these kinds of things with some kind of input system from the people affected, so your pardoning someone doesn't necessarily equate to dismissing the victim’s concerns or having their discomfort go unheard.” Eugene supplements.

“Or-” Rapunzel further adds, waving her finger in the air and causing Varian to flinch away. “Maybe I can add some kind of intermediate law when I become queen, for reformed subjects to have an equal or greater part in a defined method of compensation, like community service, without having to serve prison time but also without being set completely free until they’ve proven that they’d make the effort to do better, or at least that they’ve properly given up their old ways.” Rapunzel whistles then, startling Varian from where he had been staring into space, silently listening to and ruminating on their exchange. “I’m not even queen yet, but it seems like I have my work cut out for me.” She chuckles good-naturedly and Eugene joins in. Varian tries to, he really does, but the laugh is dry and unmoving, stuck in his throat and refusing to crawl out. “I just hope that in time, I’ll be able to handle matters like these better.” Rapunzel says, returning to her formerly solemn demeanour. “I know we probably shouldn’t have sprung this matter like this, and I understand that it will take a while for things to get better between you and Cass.”

“What if I don’t want for things to get better? To-to change?” Varian challenges, his heart hammering unhappily away at his chest as he struggles to keep his balance on what he still perceives to be a crumbling bridge, a delicate thin line, an opportunity that can be snatched away. “What if I don't want to hear her apologies?” What if I don’t want to be friends with her again?

“That’s okay, Varian.” Eugene crouches to his knees next to Rapunzel, facing and pinning Varian with those affectionate eyes, familiar eyes, forgiving eyes. “Just know that regardless of the fact that Cass came back to us, or even how she came back, you are still our special little kiddo. It doesn’t change how far you’ve come. It doesn’t change how we think of you. And it certainly will never change us.” He waves a hand to gesture at himself and Rapunzel, but Varian knows what he truly means, grasps the meaning desperately and refuses to let it go. 

Us. Not me. Not them. Us.

Eugene grabs him by the shoulders then, still looking him directly in the eye. “You are not an experiment, or a substitute, or a screwdriver.” He says surely and firmly. “You are an example, and an exceptional one at that.”

Rapunzel squeezes his hand then, as though trying to push and persist the light of her forgiving eyes, forgiving smiles, forgiving kindnesses into his depleted hope once more. “But more than that-above everything else, you are our friend.” She says, she whispers, she speaks with a quiet and vulnerable honesty reserved only for him. “You are one of our most trusted, most dear, most sincere friends. And there is nothing that will make us think any less of you.” Her smile seems so much wider, her eyes so much brighter, unobscured by the once-heavy weight of her hair. And in her forgiving eyes Varian can see them swinging from her hair as they climbed the Demanitus device, see them racing for cursed treasure and battling zombies, see them hanging from an airship moments away from exploding, see them staring proudly up at his new creation arm-in-arm with all of the promise they imagine it to bring.

He is far too engrossed to notice they close in on him, until he finds himself caught in between Eugene and Rapunzel, being hugged from both sides. Varian sinks between them, revealing in the fleeting moment of security, and softness, and warmth. Then, he reaches his arms out-one for Eugene, and one for Rapunzel, and clings to them, for it is the first time they’ve properly hugged him as a group like this, and yet he knows that perhaps this wouldn’t be the only time, the last time. Closing his eyes and resting his chin in the crook between where their arms are attached to him, Varian allows himself a small, accidental smile-a healing smile, an almost forgiving smile. Almost.

“And Varian?” He feels the rumble of Eugene’s voice from his chest.

Varian looks up in response, but Eugene is already pulling away, sitting down on the couch and patting the space next to him. Obliging, Varian allows the man to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, a heavy yet gentle weight that rests among the cacophony of turmoil he had just emerged from.

“Just because we have forgiven Cass doesn’t mean you have to.” Eugene speaks softly, though his eyes remain firmly locked on Varian’s own, as though trying to drill the message home, allowing him entrance into the sacred and subtle vulnerability with which the captain had looked at his friends, his family, his home with trust and determination. “You are allowed to feel upset after everything that has happened, especially given all you’ve been through…all everyone has been through. These things are…” Eugene’s deep brown eyes then flicker and glaze over, moving to fix on a spot in space. For a moment, Varian thinks he can see all that Eugene is seeing, witnessing the slow unraveling of a string of events and emotion and endless doubts that the man adorns and wears loosely to his heart: the horror as he watched Rapunzel collapsing, the despair as his kingdom crumbled to ruin, the agony as Cassandra flung him this way and that, the dread as his friends crumpled to their knees while they were slowly drained of life alongside him, the resignation when his father raised his weapon over his head. “They cannot be forgotten so easily.” Eugene continues, suddenly blinking and shaking his head, bringing his fingers to his forehead as Rapunzel walks over and places a careful hand on his shoulder. “And-and you shouldn’t feel like you have to forget. No one is obligated to forget anything.” Eugene’s smile returns less bright, less cheery, less charming, as his tired eyes, less forgiving eyes, hurt eyes gleaming back at Varian in an almost morose admiration. “Especially precocious 16-year olds who launched Flynnoleum at the greatest warlock of all time and stunned his own mind-controlled dad to help save his kingdom. Seriously, though. That was quite possibly the most heroic thing you could have done-not that the others were any less, of course.” He quickly adds with his ever-open honesty, as though cautiously tip-toeing around the volatile thing that he knows to be Varian’s mood.

“We appreciate what you and every Coronan did, Varian.” Rapunzel adds, her hands locking together in a way that Varian recognizes to mean that she is thinking deeply about what to say next. Her brow furrows as she gingerly contemplates the weight of her words, her lips pursing as she pauses before telling him what exactly she thinks. “Even if I don’t hold Cass properly accountable, that doesn’t mean I don’t acknowledge that I asked a great sacrifice from everyone who walked away yesterday shaken from the ordeal. Cassandra and you are different people who went through different ordeals and came back in different ways, and while it might have seemed a little hasty for us to welcome her back, she means a lot to us, just as you do. It doesn’t change how we think of you, or what you mean to us. We appreciate what you did, and we appreciate what she did, too, because it shows how much you both grew, and how willing you both were to put your lives on the line for us.” Rapunzel’s wistful eyes tarry elsewhere, and she warily tucks a strand of her newly cut hair behind her ear. “For all of us.”

All of us.

He was part of that us.

“I’m sorry.” Varian says without thinking. He’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for, but it has become such a habit, such an instinctive second nature when he hears every one else being remorseful that he does not realize he has said it until he watches his friend’s doleful expressions morphed into one confused, shared glance.

“What are you being sorry for?” Eugene asks, genuinely confused.

“I-I’m not sure yet.” Varian admits, thinking quickly of everything he’s done wrong since they came. He honestly did not expect them to ask. “I just am. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for talking down to you like that. I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of it. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I’m sorry for leaving so quickly. I’m sorry for not thanking you for the celebration. I’m sorry for being bitter and ungrateful and selfish and unforgiving and-” He must be crying again, for he chokes on his next breath before he can finish, running out of things to say. An old, distant fear returns, fresh after being suppressed from the long conversation and stronger now that he has tried to be bold. If he doesn’t apologize enough, they might as well leave him right now. They would have every right to, with the way he had been acting.

“No, no, buddy-” He hears Eugene’s gasp above it all, a strong hand clasping over his arm as if trying to get his attention. Varian does not dare to open his eyes, hoping that this alone can stem the pathetic tears that inevitably cascade down his nose and cheeks.

“Varian, why must you be so hard on yourself?” Rapunzel’s mellowed voice asks, from somewhere in between the tears in his eyes and the ringing in his ears as his face burns.

They’ve encompassed him again, surrounding him closer and tighter than before, and Varian loses track of whose fingers is combing through his messy hair, whose hand is rubbing his back rhythmically, whose arms are holding them all up when he wishes to sink to the ground in a sudden, crippling wave of shame. The urge to bring his hands to his face and quickly press the heel of his palms into his eyes to stem the flow of tears returns briefly, but Varian finds he is unable to wrench his fingers away from where they have curled around both of his friends, clutching them for dear life because God, he thought they would never do this again. He thought he could never have this again.

“There’s nothing selfish about not forgiving.” Eugene speaks, he whispers, he assures.

“There’s nothing selfish about knowing that you deserved better.” Rapunzel finishes, she consoles, she concludes, squeezing him as tightly as she can manage from where she and Eugene are both struggling to hold him equally.

Varian closes his eyes once more, wishing that the warm tears spilling down his cheeks are the last he will ever feel, that he won’t ever know the sting of betrayal or the fangs of contempt or the scourge of self-loathing ever again though he knows it is untrue. However, here between his friends’ arms, enveloped in their love and sharing their warmth, Varian feels lighter and yet…stronger, somehow. Having talked to them-having been assured that he had been listened to, Varian feels…somewhat closer to fine than he had been when he entered his house thinking his good days were as good as gone. As though despite how the doubts and dismay still cling to the back of his mind, he feels he can face it all again as he had before-he would face it all, knowing what he meant to the people who now held him so dearly, who had tried to listen to him, who had consoled him and admired him after all. Varian will hold onto them and their forgiving smiles, with the silent surety that he need not be so forgiving in turn. Varian will latch onto their hands and hold onto them the same way he did when he first crawled back from the darkness that had consumed his life, the same way he did when he had faced magic and demons and death, the same way he knows he will continue to for however long they will allow-no, for however long he wishes.

Finally, after what feels like hours though it could have been minutes, after Varian’s sniffles begin to fade into the gentle silence and the fabric he rests his chin on becomes too damp to be comfortable, Eugene pulls back only slightly, smiling hesitantly down at him. “Are you okay now?”

“Maybe not yet, but I am feeling better.” Varian replies honestly, slowly yet thoroughly wiping at his face as his friends pull away from him completely.

“That’s okay, Varian.” Eugene says yet again. “So…are you still up for the victory celebration? It’s alright if you’re not. We can just tell you your surprise here, you know.”

“Actually, I want to come. I can try to bring my family too, if you want.” Varian concedes, opening the door as they make their way outside.

“If they want to, that would be fantastic!” Rapunzel cheers, her eyes sparkling in the sudden rays of sun. “Everyone contributed to the effort, and deserves to be rewarded. After the celebration and your surprise, Eugene and I going to say our farewells to Cass, and when we start rebuilding the palace afterwards, we can try this new design I’ve been dying to do for that archway my dad never let me-”

“Oh, I’m not going to that.” Varian interrupts, noticing Ruddiger prance out from around the corner.

Rapunzel stares at him, looking slightly concerned and disheartened. “I thought we were good.”

“We are good.” Varian confirms, smiling serenely and gratefully at them. “I’m really grateful that you saved my life, and that you are my friends. You guys are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I would be honored to attend a celebration of our victory, with my entire family.” He allows the smile to drop momentarily, donning the most serious expression he can muster. “But I’m not rebuilding your room.” He pointedly says to a befuddled Rapunzel. “And I’m not building your stupid party canons.” He adds at a miffed Eugene. “And I’m not cleaning up Cassandra’s mess. It’s been a long year, and I’m pretty tired. I am going to raid the pantry with my new aunt and uncle, get yelled at by Dad, and stay up all night jamming on my guitar with my other best friend.” He opens his arms pointedly, and, to his utter delight, Ruddiger readily scrambles in, chittering happily as he crawls onto his shoulders.

Much to his surprise, his two friends pause in bewilderment, share a knowing glance, and finally allow fond, true smiles to grace their lips.

“That’s okay too, Varian.” Rapunzel finally says. “But if you ever do change your mind, you know where to find us. “

“Hell, feel free to drop by even if you don’t.” Eugene offers him a kind grin, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’re welcome to come to us anytime, for anything. Having Cass back doesn’t change how far you’ve come this past year, and it certainly won’t change Team Awesome.”

Varian grins back at the man gratefully, before another thought seeps into his mind. “Will it be possible for me to meet up with Cassandra before she leaves too?”

“Of course.” Rapunzel looks slightly taken aback, sharing a confused glance with Eugene as though she hesitates to answer right away. “But- are you sure about that? I mean, you definitely shouldn’t feel like you have to-”

“I’m not forgiving her. I-I don’t think I ever can, for a lot of reasons.” Varian tells her honestly, confidently. He can do this. “I just want to have a word with her before she leaves.”

“Okay then.” Rapunzel concedes, smiling at him. “Be sure to stop by the castle the morning after the celebration.”

Varian nods and hesitates before finding himself speaking again. “Guys…there’s something else.” His friends turn in concern. “My dad told me King Edmund stopped by and…he wants to rebuild the Dark Kingdom. He’s planning to go back with the Brotherhood. Since everything has died down a bit…”

“…You were considering going with them?” Eugene carefully asks.

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided.” Varian quickly says. “I mean, I guess I can go for a temporary visit, just to see what it’s like and help with the effort-but I wouldn’t leave you guys so suddenly, and Corona will always be my home.”

Eugene and Rapunzel’s expressions become more solemn, and Varian struggles to measure what exactly they are thinking. After a few minutes, however, Rapunzel smiles encouragingly. “Don’t worry about us, Varian. Regardless of what you chose or where you go, we just hope you find what you’re looking for. And if you ever need a friend, you’ll find us here,-“ She gestures to the towering Palace of Corona in the distance, looming in all of its glory despite the fading sunlight and the crumbling structure, the anything and everything he had thought he had lost when it had been there, all along, awaiting his despairing eyes, lonely eyes, yearning eyes. “-ready to welcome you at anytime, for anything. Just remember to keep in touch”

Varian blinks despite the warmth culminating in his chest. “You’re not upset about it?”

Rapunzel pauses, biting her lip in thought. “It’s alright to love something and let it go, Varian.” She finally admits with a mellowed, serene peace. “We had to let Cass go. I guess-” He watches her eyes turn downwards, and he is suddenly shocked to find a thin film of tears glistening in them. “I know that one day or another, we might have to do the same to you, too. Just…tell us everything, okay?” She requests, her watery eyes, saddened eyes, humble eyes staring back at him. “No matter where you go or what you choose to do, tell us how you’re feeling, tell us if you want to leave, tell us if you need our help.” She pulls him forward into a hug, and he rests his chin on her shoulder, wishing his arms can hug back just as strongly, wishing that he can hold her back just as securely, wishing he can assure her back just as warmly. “Don’t you ever, ever think that you’ll lose us.” 

Eugene walks up to the space beside her, locking his hand on her shoulder consolingly but maintaining a steady gaze with Varian. “And no matter where you go or what you choose to do, we know we’ll never lose you, either.” He waits for Rapunzel to pull away hesitantly before throwing his arms around Varian himself, patting his back with a newfound surety, a silent strength. 

Feeling his final tear trickle down his cheek, Varian hugs back with all he has, relishing in the strength that he feels he now has, the strength that he knows will persist even when he next spirals into another wave of self-doubt and denial, even when he next jolts awake from his nightmares or looks down at how easily his life can end. He knows, despite it all, that his friends intend to make it worthwhile, and by God, he would live it as such, keep bustling through it as such, bearing through the hardships and turmoil that will continue to forge him knowing that Princess Rapunzel, Captain Eugene Fitzherbert, and the Corona castle all stand behind him, ready to welcome him back.

Staring after them even as they pull away from the embrace and gesture for Maximus to trot over, Varian feels he must make another admission. “Rapunzel? Eugene?” His friends turn around from where they had been preparing to leave, their eyes patient and expecting and ready to listen to what he had to say. Varian feels warmth blossom in his chest then-they did care, after all. Regardless of what they had done to each other, and what they had fared together, Varian had friends who cherished him, and he was intent on showing them that he cherished them, every second of every day. “Thank you. Again.”

Rapunzel then looks at him with forgiving eyes, smiling eyes, honest eyes. “We’re just happy to have both of our friends back.” She scoops him up into one last hug, squeezing him for all he was worth so tightly that he huffs when he realizes that his toes had lifted off the ground. Varian chuckles even after she puts him down and gives him one last smile, even after Eugene fondly ruffles his hair and pats his back, even after Ruddiger affectionately rubs along their legs.

Smiling so wide his cheeks begin to ache, staring so long his eyes begin to water, Varian waves as the two lovers mount Maximus and wave back cheerily, beginning their trip home. Feeling Ruddiger crawl up his shoulders again and drape himself around the back of his neck, Varian taps his snout affectionately and thinks deeply as he stares off at where his friends go further into the sunset.

He may not be able to forgive Cassandra-not entirely, not yet. He also disagrees with how Rapunzel handled the situation. But he accepts that Rapunzel forgave her-not for what she did to her subjects, but simply for what she did to her. He accepts all that has happened- however much he disagrees with it, however much he feels cheated by it, however much it will still hurt to think of it as he next climbs the ladder for Ruddiger’s apples and awakens to his father’s patient face.

But perhaps that is alright, too. Not fine, of course, but alright all the same. It will take time for things to be fine again. Still, Varian finds a strange consolation in knowing that such a time did not and will not take away the boundless love he has learned, the timeless smiles he has shared, the endless opportunities and joy and moments he has yet to seize. He feels oddly thankful-not only for the friendships he has fostered and burnt into his memory, but for the time he has changed, and grown, and become who he was today-for better and worse. He feels thankful knowing that the glares, the whispers, the dark and cold nights awaiting possible doom had meant something after all-not to Rapunzel, or Eugene, but to himself. He had become something, someone, and despite the contempt and regret and self-loathing he sometimes felt, he was overall…surprisingly…truly…proud of himself.

No matter how or whether Cassandra came back, he would still just be Varian.

Not only a Varian that had single-handedly engineered automatons from scratch based on the memorized design of seeing one. Not only a Varian who had invented an explosive chemical that could have destroyed Corona. Not only a Varian that had cautiously and repeatedly triple-checked the designs to the Rooster hours before it exploded. Not only a Varian who had invented an amber gun. Not only a Varian who had translated the Demanitus scroll. Not only a Varian who had struggled and writhed his way to the top of the precipice to pour his own amber solution on top of a black rock, praying to everything in existence that it worked.

No, it seemed his friends loved another Varian-or rather, another part of the same Varian that hadn’t been a mere replacement, a template, a substitute. A Varian that surreptitiously painted fangs onto wooden dummies of Cassandra as Rapunzel glared disapprovingly at Eugene, a Varian that savored sunsets in Corona Park, a Varian that hung carefree off of a hot air-balloon with the wind bellowing in his hair and a test tube in his grasp, a Varian that had happily swung on Rapunzel’s makeshift hair-swing high above the ground, a Varian that fell into an enchanted seashell and managed to make it out in one piece, a Varian that indulged in hot cocoa with his raccoon as he held competitions for the best metal and basked in being so close to one of his greatest heroes. A Varian that hugged back, a Varian that smiled back, a Varian that had crawled back from the darkest days in his life for good-twisted and stressed and messy but for good nonetheless.

A Varian that was forged by all of those smiles and tears and endless nights and fruitless mornings and awful whispers and tearful nightmares and harrowing flashbacks. His friends had seen it so honestly, and welcomed it so trustingly, and embraced it so wholeheartedly-and now, he could do so, too.

And perhaps, he could allow himself to believe that he did deserve his friends, too.

Because staring back at all he has finally gained and knows he will never lose, Varian realizes that perhaps he need not have such forgiving eyes after all.

Chapter Text

“Any idea of when you’ll come?” She asks gently, watching as he calmly, serenely stands in the corner by himself.

“No.” He neutrally replies, lifting his eyes from where they had been burning into the reflection on his metal helmet. Quirin stands, in his old farmer’s clothes, watching the three pack for their trip back to the Dark Kingdom. Varian had bidden them farewell before heading off to do the same to Cassandra, leaving Quirin with a few precious minutes with his old family. “Thank you, sister.”

“I didn’t quite catch that. Do you mind saying it louder for the other two?” Adira teases, and Quirin chuckles when he sees Hector send a withering glare their way, followed by Edmund’s apologetic smile.

“I mean it. Thank you.” He insists again without a trace of annoyance. “Had you not stuck to what you believed in and aided the princess in her journey, I would never have been freed and reunited with my boy to see how far he has come.” He smiles at her with grateful eyes, kind eyes, reminiscent eyes.

Adira’s teasing smirk fades, replaced with a knowing, cautious, reserved smile that kindles into her eyes as she hesitates before placing a careful hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, brother. I never thought we would meet again, and certainly not like this.”

Quirin returns the smile humbly. “Honestly, I don’t think I would have had it any other way.”

“We still have room for two.” Hector says tentatively as though the hidden question pleads for itself, gesturing to his rhinoceros.

Adira nods in agreement, offering him a small sideways stare. “We can go back home, all of us. We can be a family again.”

Quirin stares wistfully at a troubled past finally at peace, a united family parting once more, those he had distanced himself from and thought he would never see again standing at the fruition at how far they had come. He then smiles with conviction and shakes his head one last time.

“Corona is my home now, too. I belong here, with my son- my new family.”

Edmund, Adira and Hector stare back at him in rueful silence, before accepting, changed, forgiving smiles grace their faces.

“We’re so proud of you, Quirin.” Adira says honestly, warmly. “And we hope you’re happy with what you’ve found.”

Quirin blinks in shock, heart constricting. Pressing his lips into a thin line for fear of sobbing, he allows his tears to glisten openly as he smiles back at what he had considered to be his. “And-and I hope you're happy with what you bring back.” What we've lost.

Hector freezes from where he had been avoiding eye contact, eyes widening and hands dropping his blankets. Without another moment of hesitance, he scrambles forward and catapults himself to the weeping man. “You idiot.” He chides without a splinter of malice in his voice, which strains with difficulty under the weight of unshed tears and unspoken sentiments. “You’re just going to have to come visit us and find out.”

Quirin nods wordlessly and smiles when Edmund joins the hug, wrapping his arms around his shoulders from behind, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Adira hesitantly tread closer and put a hand on his shoulder again.

“You’ve changed.” He hears Edmund mutter morosely, voice thick with sorrows barely stifled and regrets barely rested.

“Haven’t we all?” Quirin replies, pulling away and carefully running his finger along the last of his tears as his old family prepares to build a new future.

They give him one last wave, and he obliges, arm waving so long it begins to cramp and grin stretching so wide it begins to ache, as he watches them leave with changed eyes.

…

“Any idea of where you’re headed?” He asks a safe distance away, watching as she calmly, serenely strokes Fidella’s snout. Cassandra stands, in her new grass-green suit, wearing pieces of her past as she prepares to carve a destiny out of an uncertain future.

“No.” She neutrally replies, not lifting her eyes from where they drag over the horse’s mane, as though savoring every detail she has missed after being apart from it for so long. “But for once, I feel I don’t need to.” She pauses, staring down at the torn handmaiden’s headdress tied securely to her forearm as though deep in thought. “Thank you, Varian.” She looks back at him with different eyes, better eyes, more familiar eyes.

“For-for what?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“For standing with Rapunzel when I didn’t, and for trying to get through to me.” Cassandra explains, her voice low with a foreign emotion and her eyes unwavering from where they stare at him from a safe distance. For the first time in a long time, Varian no longer feels uncomfortable under her gaze.

Varian thinks of his answer before carefully selecting his words. “Thank you for choosing us in the end. It’s great to have you back, Cassandra.”

“What, no Cassie?” She teases, a small chuckle escaping her lips. It is short and small, yet filled to the brim with a hidden, lively mirth, so different from the hollow and cold cackle as she had glared challengingly into Eugene’s terrified face, ready to fight for the kingdom.

“Things have changed since then.” He simply supplies, shrugging his shoulders and offering her a small, hesitant grin.

She fixes him with a long, steady, careful look, her less familiar yet less cold grey eyes crawling over his form. “You’ve changed.” She says quietly.

I’ve grown. He wants to say, a heavy yet reposeful weight settling into his chest as he sighs-not out of exhaustion, but rather, out of understanding. “Haven’t we all?” His eye catches a blinding glimmer of light from where he stands opposing the woman, and what he sees upon squinting further befuddles him.

“You kept Cassandrium.” He states more out of surprise than observation. The deep purple jewel dangles from her neck, as dazzling as he had first made it, glistening in the brightness of the sun’s new rays against the new shirt and from the neck of a new person.

Cassandra blinks and looks down at it, her left hand-still tied with the handmaiden’s headdress- gently coming up to cup it in her palm, her fingers caressing its smooth exterior with the same fondness and fascination she had when she had first received it. “Of course I did. We may have changed, but not the things that really matter. The things I didn’t appreciate near enough. I may be leaving, but that shouldn’t mean I’ve let it go.”

“Cassandra-" He pauses, hesitates when her eyes flit up from where they had been fastened onto the rock and the memories engraved in it. “I can’t forgive you. And-you don’t have to forgive me either.”  He allows the silent sentiment to hang between their distance the same way she had hung the first-place ribbon on his chest, reminiscing and ruminating on their growth-how much they had grown and yet grown apart. 

Cassandra watches him carefully, but it is not the poised or calculating prowess with which she had watched over him all those months ago as he had gawked up at the powerful person she had become, towering above him on a gigantic black rock when he tried convincing her of the Cass he knew she could still be, the Cass she could save before it was too late. “I know, Varian. I would never ask you to. All that I ask is that for as long as you choose to be here, take care of them. They deserved a better friend, after all.”

Varian pauses and frowns at the implications behind the statement, contemplating what Rapunzel and Eugene had told him yesterday. “I will. Although, we’re both their friends, still.” He clarifies. “It’s just that you and I aren’t. And…I don’t think we ever can be, again.”

He fears it came out more harshly than he intended, but if it did such has no effect on Cassandra. The woman’s eyes don’t change, don’t flit away in remorse, don’t hesitate to stare back at him with a knowing sentiment. “I know, Varian.” She turns away, and though he thinks he should be glad that she did, having become so used to it, he feels there is more he can do.

“Cassandra.” He finally says, wishing that his eyes convey to her all that has been locked away in his heart. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

The flares of Cassandra’s smile almost blossom into her eyes-but he wouldn’t be able to tell, because it has been so long since he has seen her real eyes. He figures he doesn’t particularly care. “I hope you like what you’ve found.” Her eyes find the ceiling, squinting as the words roll of her tongue experimentally. “Royal engineer.” She snorts, not unkindly. “It suits you.”

Varian smiles whole-heartedly, enthused with joy not at the title, but at how Rapunzel’s eyes had sparkled with trust when she had bestowed it to him, how his father had beamed at him with blinding pride, how his friends and the subjects who he had once hurt now enthusiastically cheered for how far he had come. “For now, I guess. But maybe…one day…it won’t.” His eyes leave the lady and instead look to the wide, vast earth illuminated in all of its glory-the unknown but a distance behind the emerald green hills and azure sheen of the ocean. “I’ll find a new dream.”

His gaze breaks away from Cassandra, who blinks at him, her brow furrowing as she observes him meticulously before finally grinning in understanding. “Then I hope you know what to look for.” 

The grown woman, the changed woman, the once-friend, once-enemy, stretches out her right arm, and yet instead of touching his shoulder as she had before, it is firmly and surely held out in the space between them, waiting for him to take it and ready to withdraw if he doesn’t. “Goodbye, Varian.”

And so he takes it, grasps it as though trying to ascertain what is left of the once-burnt, once-blue, once-nifty right hand, now enclosed in a grey glove. He slowly shakes her right hand with his own, and meets her new eyes, grey eyes, changed eyes, humbled eyes, unforgiving eyes, bidding farewell to the woman she has become and the friend she had once been- a Cass that had smirked when impressed as he rolled his alchemy balls along the muddy floors of the palace, a Cassie that had smiled serenely with respect when he had given her the necklace. And yet, she is also a Cassandra that had quietly stayed to the side as he was dragged down the castle halls screaming, a Cassandra that had gasped in pain under the crushing grip of his automaton, a Cassandra that had sliced at him with the very hand he was shaking, a Cassandra that had caged and flung him, a Cassandra that had endangered his home, a Cassandra that had saved him despite it all. A Cassandra that he could respect and still not forgive. A Cassandra who respected and never forgave him, either. “Goodbye, Cassandra.”

Cassandra smiles, closes her eyes and offers a curt nod of respect-and so does he.

She mounts Fidella, gives one last wave, and turns her back to him one last time, riding away into the sunset as the distance between them grows without another look back.

Varian looks at the disappearing figure of his friend with unforgiving eyes, and then looks up at the landscape she has escaped to. His eyes then move further down to the city right beneath, staring at what has grown and mended, what the future holds and what the past has run from, the ruined homes and recovering people of a new kingdom as the sun of the new day shines proudly on them. 

Nevertheless, in the kingdom that forgave him, the kingdom that he has forgiven, Varian stares at all that could await him in the future he now has with new eyes.