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It had been more than a week since the tragic ‘Battle of Old Corona’ had taken place, and young Varian had been arrested. In this time Frederic had begun to realize how many mistakes he had made in the past several years, and to his own frustration this was entirely thanks to the alchemist. His efforts to protect his newly returned daughter had only served to alienate her from him; his efforts to keep secrets had led to hundreds of his citizens being harmed.
Even more distressing to King Frederic was the number of times Rapunzel had pulled him aside to discuss Varian’s status. She had insisted that he shouldn’t be put to trial. She begged him to put him in the regular cells and not a cold, damp dungeon. She also sought numerous reassurances that he would find a way to help the boy. This was distressing to the King, not because he disagreed with her opinion but because he couldn’t help agreeing entirely. It was more distressing because his daughter thought it was necessary to intercede repeatedly on a child’s behalf to protect him from her own father.
No one needed to tell King Frederic or Queen Arianna that Varian had done some awful things; they were there for the worst of them. However, when discussing the recent events late at night neither spouse could quite manage to stay angry at the teenager. From the comfort of his throne room everything had seemed so simple, so clear, and so straightforward. Reading the reports from his guards, though, Frederic realized how much harm he had done to one of his child subjects without realizing it.
Rapunzel vehemently denied that Varian had attacked her during the blizzard, and the guards confirmed that they had actively intimidated a young boy in Old Corona. This later revelation led Frederic down a further spiral into despair: his own orders had been too harsh and too easy to misinterpret. The King had ordered his guards to find the scroll fragment and keep the entire fiasco covert. He was horrified to discover that many of Varian’s grievances held merit due to his unintentional cruelty towards the child.
From her view, Queen Arianna was oddly melancholy about the incident. Her husband, friends, and advisors all expected the female monarch to be traumatized or enraged by her kidnapping but she was made of stronger stuff than that. The only time Frederic had asked his wife if she was ‘recovered’ from the events she laughed in his face. Arianna wasn’t the kind of woman who would shrivel like a flower with the slightest of touches.
Instead, she was wholeheartedly committed to investigating her young captor’s story. Varian had shared a lot of his thoughts during her captivity; he likely shared more of them than he ever intended. It was fairly clear from the first few minutes in his custody that Varian’s mind was in a losing battle against itself. The Queen prided herself on being stronger than most of the men in her husband’s court; she wasn’t going to throw a child under the cart to soothe her nerves.
It was this odd mixture of curiosity, concern, and understanding that motivated the monarchs to take action once Rapunzel’s caravan had departed. While their daughter ventured far to find an answer to the mystery of the black rocks, they had another child to look after. Unlike the princess, however, young Varian actually needed someone to intervene on his behalf. This time King Frederic and Queen Arianna were determined to get things right.
Almost two weeks had passed since his plans had fallen apart, and Varian was forced to accept the hopelessness that anger was keeping at bay. Ever since being tossed back into the snow by the royal guards, he had maintained his energy by feeding that rage. The final burst of wrathful energy had gone into his hairbrained attempt at “revenge” upon the royal family. Once Rapunzel had stopped him and his automatons all laid in ruin, Varian had been arrested and carted away from his home village.
Ruddiger had been in the prison wagon with him, and for reasons that Varian could not understand his companion had stayed with him. For the first few hours the teenager vibrated with the last vestiges of his rage, but eventually his body cut off its indulgence. The guards had thrown him into a small cell near the bottom of the dungeons. No light or warmth could be found once the doors had closed and Varian was left to implode in the dark. Overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings, the boy eventually passed into a nightmare-filled sleep.
The day after his defeat, Varian awoke in the dark with Ruddiger still asleep on his lap. There was nothing left for him to keep the emptiness away. After an hour of gasping breathes and a shattered resolve, Varian collapsed into relentless sobbing. Once he had felt the child sob himself to the point of exhaustion, Ruddiger did everything the racoon could to refocus his friend’s mind on something else. It was a futile attempt, but Varian felt a small spark of something infiltrating his hollow pit of despair.
Guards entered the dungeons and opened the small cell. Looking up at them from the floor, Varian suddenly felt smaller than he had felt in years. The armed men looked angrily at the young terrorist they had been ordered to move and the boy was preparing himself for the torturous punishments he was certain were incoming. Instead, however, one of the men sighed and hauled Varian to his feet with a single arm. His cuffs checked and surrounded by guards, the alchemist was escorted out of the palace dungeons and into a hallway of cells that looked almost comfortable compared to his last one. Judging from the light passing through the windows, Varian estimated that it was near noon.
The guards opened a cell and pushed Varian inside before closing it again. Just as he was about to curl up on the empty cot in front of him, the boy was pulled back until his wrists were against the bars. Another one of the guards gave him a hard glare before using a key to remove the cuffs. Grumbling something about ‘orders,’ the guards all departed, leaving Varian alone in a brighter cell with his beloved racoon and an unknown cellmate.
This is where Varian spent the next week and a half: sitting in a cell with Ruddiger and another terrorist. Unlike Ruddiger, however, Andrew—apparently a ‘Saporian separatist’—had no interest in helping the teenager. Andrew was interested in hearing about Varian’s life, but only so he could find new pieces of ammunition in his campaign to rekindle the boy’s anger. Varian didn’t have the energy to entertain the man’s questions and speeches, which only made him turn his anger on the alchemist instead. No matter how violent Andrew became, though, it couldn’t penetrate the hopeless sorrow that wrapped around Varian.
For Varian, the day had begun like the one before. His sleep had been filled with nightmares and his waking moments had been consumed by a combination of distressed sobbing and affection from Ruddiger. The teenager was fully prepared to spend the rest of the day trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling, repressing his growing guilt, and cowering away from his cellmate. This expectation was shattered when a group of guards came to his cell and wrenched the door open.
The guard captain himself was standing there holding a pair of cuffs. He fixed Varian with a harsh look and growled: “Get over here. You’ve been summoned to stand before the King.”
“The…the King?” Varian squeaked in a tiny voice that would have been embarrassing under other circumstances.
“Yes, and if you don’t want to test his patience, you’ll get over here now,” the captain barked with unconcealed anger. Varian was too frightened to say another word, so he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door. Cuffs were fitted tightly on his wrists, and the boy could see a small bit of satisfaction in the captain’s face when he flinched. Ruddiger made noises of alarm and rushed out of the cell just as the guards were pulling Varian away and closing the door. None of them seemed concerned with the racoon following them to their destination.
It took a while for them to walk to their destination, and each passing minute brought Varian closer to a panic attack. He was certain that nothing good awaited him when they finally made it to wherever the King ordered him to be delivered. Everyone knew that King Frederic took a strict view on law-and-order, and that the universal punishment for treason was death. During his weeks in hiding, Varian had managed to steel his nerves and act with a cold confidence beyond his years. That strength had completely forsaken the boy in the past couple of weeks, and he now felt like a small, terrified child.
Arriving at a set of ornate doors, the guards nodded to a nearby attendant who ducked into the room. Varian—barely able to keep track of his surroundings in the haze of his panic—realized that they were outside the throne room. The attendant reemerged moments later and nodded to the Captain of the Guard who waited for the doors to open before leading their group into the chamber. As they entered, the current setup of the room became visible to them: the monarchs sat upon their thrones, while all other furniture had been removed. Stan and Pete—the only rank-and-file guards that Varian knew by name—stood at the sides of the dais.
“The prisoner, Varian of Old Corona, Your Majesties,” the captain announced when they came to a stop in front of the King and Queen. Taking the boy by surprise, the man pressed heavily on his shoulders before hissing into his ear: “Kneel.” Varian’s knees were shaking but he managed to descend somewhat gracefully until he was left kneeling on the floor with the royals looking down at him from their thrones. The teenager looked down and used any energy he could still muster to control his boiling panic.
“Thank you, Captain,” the King said, his voice unemotional, “You and your men are dismissed.”
“But Your Majesty—” the captain attempted to argue.
“No arguments, Captain. I’m certain Stan and Pete can protect us from one unarmed, chained boy,” King Frederic interjected. The other man did not hesitate before bowing and leaving with all of the guards that had entered with him.
Queen Arianna felt sick as soon as the doors closed and she was left looking at the boy kneeling before them. He had seemed so much larger and older in her memories. Now, though, he looked small and very, very young. The teenager’s eyes were turned downwards and his shoulders shook noticeably. Looking over to exchange a look with her husband, the Queen felt reassured that they had not been making a mistake in their planning.
“Varian,” Frederic addressed the alchemist, “I’m going to need you to look at us.” The boy flinched before drawing in a large breath and slowly tilting his head away from the floor.
As his eyes finally came into view, the monarchs were greeted with the full range of Varian’s emotions. Unlike that night in Old Corona, the teenager’s face didn’t sneer in an expression of hateful wrath. Rather, it seemed to teeter on the border of utter confusion and utter terror. The thing that stood out the most to Corona’s Queen was the large bruise that covered the left side of Varian’s face. It hadn’t been there after the battle. She didn’t like the options for how it had gotten there otherwise, though.
“Did the Captain tell you why we asked for you?” the Queen asked. Varian opened his mouth slightly as if to respond before shaking violently and closing it again. After a few moments the boy simply moved his head from side to side in a silent answer.
“A little bit of time has passed since your arrest. We’ve been considering the next steps,” the King stated. It wasn’t intentional but Arianna knew her husband’s words would scare the teenager even more. Just as she suspected, Varian flinched and a sharp inhale was audible. Unexpectedly, however, the young alchemist seemed to be forming words again.
“W—when will I be executed?” Varian asked with a fragile voice before gulping and adding: “…Your Majesty.”
Arianna’s restraint slipped a bit as she loudly said: “No! No, Varian. You are not going to be executed. Please wait. Let us talk with you for a few minutes. I promise you’ll…well I can’t promise you’re going to like anything we say but it is important that you wait before drawing any conclusions.” This declaration seems to removed whatever drive had allowed the teenager to verbally respond to them. Varian looked at her with a confused sadness that only made the Queen glad that she had interjected to stop his suspicions.
“Varian, there’s a lot of things that need to be discussed and we won’t be able to talk about all of them right now,” King Frederic began to speak again, “You did some very bad things that harmed not just the kingdom but put other people at risk. There are going to be consequences for that, but I know that I also must face some consequences of my own.”
The teenager now turned his gaze to the king in complete shock. His confusion and uncertainty were now beginning to overtake terror as a dominant emotion. Queen Arianna knew neither option was ideal, but chose to believe this was an improvement.
“I’ve thought about your words that night…and I’ve talked about things you said to the Queen prior to that. Then I did some digging of my own. It does seem that you’ve been rather severely wronged by the state. You were wrongfully persecuted for a crime you didn’t commit and denied help that any citizen of my kingdom, especially a child, should be entitled to. I also know that some of my own decisions had a detrimental effect on you,” Frederic explained, “I didn’t want to think about it at first but it does seem that you were forced into a corner.”
King Frederic continued: “I knew your father for years. Quirin didn’t like to discuss his personal life with me, but he did speak of you a few times. My daughter also spoke of you before your misdeeds, and afterwards she provided some…context.”
The man paused for a moment to let the information sink into the teenager’s mind. Varian was still frozen in shock; his shoulders had stopped vibrating and he no longer appeared on the verge of tears. There was no doubt that the young teenager was desperately waiting to hear the monarch’s next words.
“I also must confess that I understand your position,” Frederic said, feeling entering his tone for the first time that day, “When we lost Rapunzel…there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for someone you love. And I’ve made my fair share of mistakes trying to protect her ever since.”
Queen Arianna then began to speak instead: “Varian, we’ve had to think very carefully about what is going to become of you now. Taking into consideration your age, the particular circumstances, and our own role in this…we’ve decided to make a special arrangement.”
“Y…Your Majesty?” Varian stuttered in confusion. The Queen gave him a tired but sympathetic smile.
“Yes, let me explain,” Arianna continued, “There will not be a trial. Since your most significant crimes were against the royal household directly, we are able to exercise our prerogative to make an exception. Given your father’s…absence…you are going to be kept in our custody until your eighteenth birthday. In that time, we are going to find a way to help you heal from this. I know you’ll have a lot of emotions about this for now, but trust me when I say that we do have your best interests in mind.”
“Meanwhile,” King Frederic added, “we are going to be looking into our options to help your father. Neither of you is going to be forgotten or ignored again. There’s no reason for you to take my word right now, but I will not rest until a solution is found. I didn’t know you were being dragged into this, but it is ultimately my duty as king to take responsibility for the results of my decisions.”
All these statements had finally overwhelmed the teenager that kneeled before them, and Varian sank into his crouched position. The boy looked even smaller than he had before, and tears now rolled freely down his cheeks. It was clear to both monarchs that Varian would be unable to fully process this conversation, not to mention speak with them cogently, until he had some time to think.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Queen Arianna said firmly, “We’ll discuss the specifics of your rehabilitation and care with you at a later time, Varian. Please know, though, that you are not going to be harmed.”
Seeing that Varian was still completely speechless, the King gestured to the guards: “Pete, please take this boy to the room we had prepared. Once you’re there remove his cuffs and stand guard outside.” The man bowed before walking over to Varian and gently pulling him to his feet. At first unsteady, Varian quickly allowed himself to be guided out of the throne room.
As soon as the doors closed behind the guard and alchemist, Queen Arianna turned to Stan: “Tell the Captain of the Guard that I want to know precisely how Varian got that bruise on his face. Hitting children is a crime, and I won't stand for it happening in my own palace.”
To Varian’s surprise—whatever surprise could still be elicited at least—Pete led him to a bedroom instead of another prison cell. It was a servant’s room, having no windows and only the basic furnishings. Compared to where he had woken up that morning and the public execution he had anticipated before the end of the day, however, it was a luxury.
The guard used his keys to take the cuffs off Varian’s thin wrists, and the teenager had stepped into the room before hearing a loud chitter from the hallway: Ruddiger had found him again! Falling to his knees, Varian opened his arms as the racoon dashed around Pete’s feet and into the bedroom.
“Ruddiger!” Varian exclaimed with the first genuine smile lighting up his face since the day of the blizzard. Pete regarded the creature uncertainly before sighing and closing the door with both of them inside. Unable to fully process all of his emotions at the moment, Varian poured them all into hugging his devoted companion tightly to his chest.
After roughly an hour of quiet emotional support, Varian looked around the room again. There was a desk, a bookshelf, and a bed in the main living area. A small bathroom was accessible at the back of the room, and there were small grates on the wall for ventilation. It was all extremely unremarkable until the alchemist noticed a note laying unevenly on the bed. Standing, the boy walked over and picked up the scrap of paper. There was one short sentence written on it in handwriting that was elegant enough to belong to a queen: “Beati misericordes: quoniam ipsi misericordiam consequentur.”
For the second time that day a small smile found its way to Varian’s face, and for the first time in a while a tiny feeling of hope lingered.