Chapter Text
The heavy steel door to the caste dungeon groaned in protest, but finally yielded to the two guards that pushed through. One clutched a lantern tightly in his hand, the other, a halberd, even more tightly.
Behind them, Eugene Fitzherbert, the captain of the guard, looked positively drained. On top of all the work he’d been doing to shape up the kingdom, on top of the mani-pedi he missed this morning and the day before, on top of the fact that his uniform hadn’t been pressed in the last week... Now, there’s this.
Flickering shadows cast long fingers over his face as they ventured deeper and deeper. Straight to the prison cells. Between the three men, not a word was shared.
“She’s in there, sir.” It was Pete the guard who finally broke the silence. He extended a finger towards one of the back cells, huddled together in the dark.
“Got it.” Eugene nodded, pushing past Pete and venturing on.
One step, two steps, three. Stop. A glance back.
“Well?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Come on!”
“...Oh! You mean...” Stan, the mustachioed guard, spoke up this time, halberd clenched tight in his fists as though he’d been startled from his thoughts, and glanced at Pete. The two guards were long-term partners, never far from one another. “I mean, I, I guess we can...?”
“Yeah, I was kinda hoping we could... y’know,” Pete started, lantern raised between him and Stan. “Stay here?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to, you know... clog up the hallway?”
“But, and bear with me on this, if you really need us, we could be with you in an emotional support kind of capacity-”
“Guys.” Their captain started. His exasperation was palpable. It shown stark on his face.
“Right!” Stan finished, rushing to join his captain, followed by Pete with a quick, “Coming!”
Corona employed several types of prison cells. The ones on the upper floor were for less serious crimes; littering, jaywalking, aggressive littering, practical joking and the like; nothing so terribly serious as the lower floor, which reserved cells for the worst of the worst. For crimes so heinous, they were reinforced and double-locked to prevent any escape attempt.
Down here, under the earth, there were no windows to illuminate the prisoners. Only lamp and candle light provided enough illumination to see – and Eugene tucked a mental note away about replacing some of the melted candles down here. But through the dim light, growing as they got closer, he could see a figure inside, hunched over a bunk.
“Cassandra.”
His voice echoed into the cell, bouncing off the stone walls. The woman shifted in the dark, turning to face him.
Somehow, as though because of the glow of the lantern, the former handmaiden’s pale complexion looked even paler. Crinkled, curling hair an uncombed mess, she wore a tunic and long pants, both simple in design. White upon brown.
She looked a mess. A spectre fit to haunt the oldest castles in the land. Several jokes about it bubbled to the surface of Eugene’s mind.
He remained silent. Now wasn’t the time.
Their apparition finally spoke.
“Eugene.” There was a scratchiness to her tone. Eugene noticed. He wasn’t sure if she had. “Come to finally put me away?”
Eugene fixed her with the best “look” he could manage. The kind he’d seen the captain, her father use a dozen times. It took a considerable amount of effort.
...And it wasn’t worth it.
“Oh come on, Cass!” Something broke in Eugene, and exasperation flooded out as he rifled through his pockets for the cell keys. “This is the third time we’ve done this! Aren’t you getting tired? -- Wait, no. Scratch that. You are tired.”
Almost a year of wondering and fearing had burned that look into his mind; the one of dark, impenetrable armor, with hair that glowed the most brilliant blue. She had looked nothing like the heroic figure he knew Cassandra could be, but now, she barely resembled either of those different versions of Cassandra. He swore she trembled like a leaf. Good thing they were underground, or else a breeze may have toppled the former conqueror out of her seat.
She gently shook her head. “This is how it needs to be, Eugene.”
“Gah!” Eugene replied with a groan. He couldn’t deal with this today, not again.
Where were those keys.
“Stan! Pete!” Thank goodness there were others around here he could snap at. “You’re supposed to stop her before she does this!”
“We tried, sir! Honest.” Stan pleaded.
Pete interjected. “But, sir, it’s... You know? Cassandra?”
“Yeah, Cassandra’s... you know, unstoppable? The best there is?” Stan added, to which both guards nodded at the established fact.
“Unstop- Guys! She doesn’t even have the Moonstone anymore. I had to help her get to the bathroom yesterday; she can barely walk!” A soft jingle directed Eugene to the last pocket he hadn’t checked – finally. “Even I could catch her now!”
“No, you can’t.” Their “prisoner” retorted from the dark. Eugene very nearly bit his lip in abject annoyance.
“Ahaha, haha... You don’t start.” Not even a week since they’d had Cassandra back in their lives, and she was already finding new and inspiring ways to make his life difficult. It was almost as though things hadn’t even changed at all.
Well, apart from the fact that Cassandra happened to be Corona’s new, former, most wanted criminal. For crimes Eugene himself had to write up. Threatening the kingdom, threatening the princess, attacking the princess – and the entire kingdom at that - not to mention the attempted murder, and conspiring with an ancient warlock to destroy Corona. And then there was the property damage...
Still. Looking through the bars now, really looking at her, Eugene knew that none of that mattered in his eyes. Or Rapunzel’s eyes either. But it all weighed on Cassandra like a-
“Youuu tell them, sister!”
What.
Eugene spun around quickly enough to earn a sharp squeak of protest from his boots. The light of the candles and lamps wavering in the small breeze. They managed to reach into the cell opposite Cassandra’s to illuminate, just briefly, the face within.
The small, bulbous, bearded face.
“Nnnobody’s gotta say nothing to nothing!” He continued with an audible slur. “Don’t let ‘em getcha without a lawyer! Remember you- your marinara rights...!”
Eugene turned to Stan and Pete, his face cast in shadow.
They looked to each other for support. Pete finally spoke, “Shorty’s down here, too.”
“Shorty’s not supposed to be down here either!” Eugene growled, his voice growing shrill at this point. Because surely this was just how his day would turn out. “Stan! Pete! Guys.”
“Okay! To be fair...” Pete started.
“We don’t know how Shorty got in here either.” Stan finished.
Is this why Cap was so ornery all the time, Eugene wondered inwardly as he moved to unlock Cassandra’s cell. It opened with a satisfying click. No wonder he hated me.
“Just deal with him, okay?” He passed the keys to Pete
“Alright, Cassandra.” Same old song and dance. He motioned for her to stand. “You’ve had your fun. Now, how about we get out of here?”
Cassandra frowned. The low light stretched it into what resembled a rictus grin. “Is this a game to you, Eugene?”
“Actually, my idea of a game isn’t chasing you around the castle. I prefer a good game of cards,” he half-joked, grabbing a seat on the bunk opposite hers. “Or Jacks.”
Looking closer now at her, it was startling. He could see into her eyes, those hazel orbs. Those hadn’t changed. Probably never will. But as for the rest... He could recall an ongoing conversation he’d had with Lance (out of earshot of the princess, of course) about just what Cassandra could have possibly been getting up to on her own. Where was she sleeping? What was she eating?
The answer was, evidently, ‘nowhere and nothing’. Through means he could hardly grasp – magic? Raw spite? Some combination therein? - Cassandra had ventured all the way from the Dark Kingdom to Corona without so much as a few breaks and way less food than she should have been able to survive on. The mere fact that it took her agonizing moments to recall the last time she had a full three meals in a day was horrifying, and it showed in a way that seemed to off-put even her once she realized it.
The clothes she wore, given to her after Rapunzel managed to remove the remnants of rock armor that clung to her skin, were actual, real clothing. Of silks and wool; soft, freshly pressed and smelling like a summer’s day. Which was a lot more than he could jokingly say about Cassandra’s old attire.
These clothes only emphasized the loss of weight. Rather than hiding her weight, the loose-fitting tunic hung off of her like the worn rags of a scarecrow. Billowing sleeves could only do so much when you could see the bone of her wrists jutting out as she rubbed them anxiously.
And the scars. Rapunzel had told him about them; little, tiny scars lining her arms and legs where the rock sprouted at her command. Apparently, once Rapunzel had removed their friend from what was left of her armor, they used to number in the multitudes. Most scars, if not all of them, had healed by now. All of them, save for the one on her right hand – the one she received in the Great Tree, which was still lightly scarred; gnarled, and curling from the tip of her middle finger and down past her wrist.
It wasn’t “the color of pitch, like harshly burned charcoal” anymore – Rapunzel’s words, not his. It had healed to a better, more human color. Maybe it would continue to heal.
Hopefully, it would.
“Don’t tell Rapunzel I said this – not that I can stop you, of course – but...”
“Oh, out with it, Fitzherbert.”
“How do I put this as elegantly as possible...” he felt his way through the air around him, as though he should have been able to physically grasp the concept. Sucking in a breath, and clasping his hands together, he readied himself...
“You look like shit.”
There came a pause. Eugene briefly considered whether or not he had crossed a line with that statement – was he going to kick someone as they were down? He lips nearly part to prepare an apology.
Imagine the shock on his face when Cassandra laughs - Well, okay. It’s not a ‘laugh’ laugh. Something more akin to a giggle, a quick exhale of air. A noise that bounced off the stone walls of the cell, something so small, but he could see it set a crack in that glower of hers.
“Wow, thanks. I just died, you know.”
“Oh, I know very well. You’re not the only important person to Rapunzel that she’s brought back from the dead, y’know.”
“So,” she let a brow raise into the fringe of her hair. “You felt like this, too?”
“Oh, absolutely not.” A bald-faced lie. The moment he returned the lost princess to her parents, he’d been bedridden for three days. “I came out of that mess reborn as the immaculate design you now see before you. See this cowlick?” He pointed to his forehead. “Perfectly aligned.”
But there was no more giggles. No snicker. Not even a guffaw. He could’ve heard rats skittering through the walls, or the quiet commotion happening in the other cell.
“Are you done stalling?” she questioned with the grace of a brick through a window.
“If by ‘stalling’ you mean ‘speaking with my friend who went crazy for half a year because I’m happy to see her again’, then no, I am not done stalling.” Then, more softly. “You need rest, Cass.”
Cassandra frowned into her lap, briefly hiding her eyes. “You should hate me.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
“Well...” she paused, as though running down the list Eugene was certain she had already composed. “I stole from the princess.”
“Oh, pfft!” Eugene waved his hand at her. “I’ve stolen from the princess – in fact, I stole the princess. Right out from under Gothel’s nose.”
“I tried to...” He watched her as she swallowed bitterly, then coughed. It was cold down here, not to mention dusty. “To kill her.”
“Okay, you got me there. I haven’t done that.” Eugene stroked his beard and nodded. “But – and I feel like I should clarify, I don’t condone attacking my girlfriend – but you’re also not the only person in our lives who fought her like you did.”
Even with his words, she sunk further, with a tremble in her shoulders. “I deserve a punishment to atone for my crimes.”
Eugene bent over in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose in two fingers as he breathed out. Trying, and failing, to stave off a headache. “I know. You’ve been saying that for the last two days.”
“I should be shackled – thrown in the stocks...!” She gesticulated at him, at the dungeon around them. The bars and stonework, cold and unfeeling versus the woman who looked like she was wasting away. “I launched an attack that brought so much destruction to the kingdom that... I deserve to be down here, and you won’t put me here yourself!”
“...Okay. One-” Eugene raised a gloved hand. One white finger extended. “You could barely move when we got you back. Mostly, you just slept and healed from the whole ‘you died’ thing.” Although, the mental picture of Cassandra, curled up in bed and unconscious to the world, with a long chain and ball attached to her foot, wasn’t the un-funniest image he could’ve imagined.
A mental Eugene smacked his hands together to knock off any dust. Alright, guys, he would say. We’ve got her now.
“And two-” Another finger was raised, and paused. Suddenly, a weariness hit Eugene. The same exhaustion he’s had for nearly the past week, ever since a certain someone showed her blue-haired head in the castle square. “Cass, you didn’t step into that square planning on overthrowing the entire kingdom.”
Which had only become apparent after she had forced most of the occupants of the island town to evacuate to the mainland. Plus the incredible property damage. And the bruises where his ribs would be. Thanks, so much, for adding to the collection adorning his chest, dad.
“But I still did it,” she affirmed.
“Yeah, well, you also helped save the kingdom from the evil demon octopus- thing that had wanted to destroy it in the first place. And...” Eugene’s voice wavered, hands grasping in a vague motion of exasperated gesturing to... everything? Everything. “You’re also... like a sister to me, Cass. I meant that, back at the Goodwill Festival.”
He could see Cassandra struggling against rolling her eyes. Oof. That’s right, that whole.... matter with Gothel and... “Buuut maybe I’ll just stop mentioning family in your presence for a while, yeah? Yeah, I’ll try that.”
He heard a snort from Cassandra that was probably some approximation of a laugh again. He’d take it. “I don’t hate you, Cass.” That seemed to have gotten her to flinch.
“I’m... not used to believing that.”
That stung. Perhaps not as much as a real, actual knife entering his abdomen, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less now than when he ordered those wanted posters to be hung up around the kingdom. “Well, I think you’ll find that a lot of people around here are more forgiving than you’d think. As a former dashing rogue myself, who is quite still dashing I might add, I tend to have an understanding when it comes to criminals that doesn’t involve immediately leaping to public execution.”
His throat tightened on that last word. ‘Execution’. Just how close had he been to being strung up by the kingdom he now served? If Max and the Pub Thugs hadn’t rescued him, where would he be now? Where would Rapunzel be?
It was difficult to swallow. Getting that close to death would always be. He managed anyway, and he probably always would.
As for Cassandra, she seemed to struggle with even parsing his words, like there was a language barrier present between them. A barrier of understanding. After these last few months, Eugene had come to view Cassandra in a different light, one entirely separate from the low glow of torches in here.
Even after they found her again, she was still lost in a sense. The old Cassandra was gone.
Maybe that was for the best. The old Eugene hadn’t shown his face in quite some time.
“Getting all the way down here by yourself was pretty impressive,” suddenly, his mood changed, openly pondering with a light air. He stroked his goatee with one hand. “Maybe... No, no. You’re not ready, yet.”
Before his eyes, Cassandra’s entire form seemed to perk up. Eyes widened in the dark, glinting off rainbow colors of firelight.
“Ready? For what?”
“Oh, just... The King wanted to speak with you when you were ready to stand before him,” he shrugged lightly, coyly. Her eyes were approaching the size of desert plates.
“The king...?”
“But if you want to stay down here, I understand. We can hold off on any official business while I have your things moved down here, get everything set up for an extended stay, maybe throw up some nice curtains, a rug-”
“Take me to him!” She rose with a noticeably stagger that brought Eugene to his feet as well, hands out to catch her. Shadows clawed at her face, warping her fierce expression in extreme angles. She trembled slightly. “I’m ready... Please. Let’s get it over with.”
“Okay, wow! We’re moving, then. Straight to it!” That was it, then. Time for them to go. The king had already been waiting for several days, a thought that Eugene kept well to himself.
He pulled the cell door wide open, offering a hand to his ‘prisoner’. “Do you need any help with getting there, or-”
Oh, there was some of the old Cassandra. He could see it in the way she held herself high; so fragile, but still a warrior of Corona. A woman held together by heavily bruised hope and a quiet dignity. “I’m fine, Fitzherbert.”
The former biggest threat to Corona took three steps out of the cell, found an uneven cobblestone with her fuzzy-socked foot, and her legs seemed to decide that was it. She tumbled down to meet the floor, face-first.
All the commotion in the cells, including whatever was going on with Shorty and Eugene’s guards – which he had barely even noticed – all ceased for a fraction of a second. With all eyes drawn to the crumpled form shivering slightly against the rough ground.
Eugene’s shadow fell across her as he bent down and said, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
A groan answered him. Or maybe it was directed at the stone that tripped her up. Could’ve been both.
“I’ll take that disgruntled sound as a ‘yes’!” He said with a clap of his hands. “Pete! Get over here and help me get Cass here back on her feet,” he nodded to the other guard. “Stan, get upstairs and let his majesty know that Cass is probably ready to see him. Maybe. We’ll see how far we get. Also, maybe find her a coat?”
Both guards saluted him – which he’d never get tired off – and dropped their current objective, literally, to get on their new tasks. Stan rushed ahead of them and disappeared up the stone steps. Meanwhile, Pete had joined Eugene on the other side of Cassandra. His hands moving to scoop her up by the shoulder while he gently spoke to her. “Okay, nothing broken? Gotta watch out for that one stone. It’s a killer, trust me. One time, Stan was running through...”
“Shorty?” Eugene called after about ten seconds of dithering on whether he cared enough to make a point of asking. “You good down here?”
A reply floated out between the bars, sluggish and carefree. “Hooow dare you ask that of- of the rat king...!”
Fantastic. He could officially stop caring for now. “Shorty’s good. C’mon, Cass. Let’s get you an audience.”