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Eugene squints at the letter he's writing, a difficult task given the fact that the only light he has is coming from the vague, shaky candle flickering on the walls of the small carriage interior. The wheels skip along the dirt path so frequently that he has to lift his quill from the paper each time to avoid making his writing totally illegible. Not to mention the pain in his lower back, a wonderful side effect of age and carriage travel, growing considerably with each imperfection in the road that the wheels come in contact with.
He just loves business trips.
"Daddy," His daughter's voice snaps him out of his focus. There it is, the one thing single-handedly making this trip better. Having his children with him is always a joy, but the ability to show them a glimpse of the world outside the familiar walls of Corona was a treat in itself. He only wishes that Rapunzel could have joined them. "What's that?"
Always questions with this one, he muses fondly. "A letter."
The princess pushes herself up onto the bench beside him, clutching his bicep to keep her balance when the carriage wheels stumble over a particularly large pebble. "To who?
"To whom," her twin brother corrects from across the car, not lifting his gaze from the book he's leafing through. She petulantly sticks her tongue out in his direction.
"To your mother, actually."
"Mama?" Willow strains her neck to get a better view, no doubt attempting to decipher his curly scrawl. She reaches for the quill. "Can I write a note?"
"Not on this one," Eugene tilts the quill away from her grasp. Usually he'd be advised to correct her on her manners, but they've traveling been in this carriage without a break for nearly an entire day. Besides, without those stuffy advisors around, she can say whatever she wants. "This one's business."
"Business." She echoes confidently. Eugene situates himself so that he can hold her steady in his lap with one hand and continue writing with the other. She smooths her skirts out with tiny hands, mirroring his professionalism here the same way she mirrors his energy when she watches him run guard drills. "What kinds of business?"
"Captain business," he explains, calmly. "Prince consort business. State of the kingdom, you know the drill."
She nods. Of course she knows. She's the princess.
Finley seems to have taken an interest in their conversation, chapter book left behind on his side of the car as he peers over the travel desk at the letter. Eugene slides over on the bench, patting the seat on his other side. His son clambers up to take the empty space.
The captain lets the quill rest in its holder, meticulously folding up the letter and passing it to his son with an envelope. "Seal that up for me, Finn, could you?"
Finley nods. He carefully slips the letter into the envelope, pressing it shut and standing to melt two pellets of red wax over the shaky candle. Just as his father taught him, he lets the wax fall over the point of the envelope before he passes it back to his father to stamp.
"Thanks, Bud. It looks fantastic." He tousles the young prince's hair before reaching for another sheet of paper.
"Who are you writing to now?" Willow demands, watching with confusion as he scrawls 'My darling Sunshine' across the margin.
Patient as always, he replies, "Your mother."
The princess frowns. "Again?"
"Mhm. This one's not business. This one's for fun."
"For fun?" She tilts her head back against his shoulder, chestnut colored hair falling into his view.
Eugene nods. "I tell her that I love her and miss her, and I can't wait to see her again. Because I do, and I can't."
"Can we write letters to Mama?" Finley asks. He's peeled his eyes away from the window, once again intrigued by their conversation.
"That's a great idea, Finn. Here," Eugene pulls out the other traveling desk and secures it in front of Willow. He passes a sheet of paper to each twin.
"Can I write in pencil? I'm not good with the quill."
"Sure."
"Can I draw pictures? How many letters can I write?"
"Absolutely. As many as you'd like."
"How will she get the letters?"
"You know Grandpa's crows? They'll do anything you want for a slice of bread." Eugene winks.
"I'm gonna write twenty!"
"I'm gonna write fifty!"
Their father smiles. "We've only been away from home for two days. How many stories have you got to tell?"
"I'll write a hundred!"
"Well, Sweetheart," Eugene moves the stack of envelopes closer. "You'd better get started."
Rapunzel sighs, watching the sun set below the water outside the window of her study. The weeks when Eugene was away were always the hardest, but this time he's taken the children along with him. She insisted on the trip herself, it was a good idea to get them outside of the kingdom and introduced to diplomacy early on, but it always pained her not to join them. Though most of the time she is out among the people, working on the kingdom from the inside, it stings nonetheless to miss out on these trips.
The halls were too quiet without the squeals of the rambunctious prince and princess or the startled yelps of the servants as they'd tumble by. Not to mention her own desire to get out more often than she does. Rapunzel turns back to the agriculture reports sitting unread on her desk.
Believe it or not, being queen isn't always glamour and fun. "Back to work," she tells herself. Boring stuff now, fun stuff later.
Just as she's about to settle down again, a loud tapping sounds from her window. Strange, being as she's several stories up. She reaches for the clasp and feels the rush of cool, evening summer air flood the room as one of Edmund's crows lands on her windowsill.
"Oh!" She smiles, gingerly tugging the envelope out of his beak and rewarding the bird with a few pats on the head. It's only a routine report, of course, but seeing Eugene's familiar handwriting and hearing his voice in his words will surely lift her spirit. Just as she's about to close the window, though, several more crows shoot into her office.
"Oh, my... goodness.." Together, the birds deposit a total of ten thick envelopes into her arms. She feels herself grinning as she sits back at her desk and spends the better part of the afternoon leafing through the notes, drawings, and stories her family has created for her.
Rapunzel opens the final note. "I figured you'd appreciate a full and official report of how we were doing, too." it reads. "I love you and miss you more than you could know."
As she traces the line of her husbands signature, a wide smile spreads across her cheeks. Soon, they'll be home to retell all their stories themselves.
She can hardly wait.