Work Text:
Varian laid in his bed, the result of his attempt at sleeping at around-
He's not really sure. It doesn't feel like it's been that long, but he's not exactly the most reliable person at telling time. There have been many instances where he's zoned off while doing an experiment, which isn't great when you need to time a reaction.
Being back in his own bed feels strange. Not necessarily bad, but after being gone so long away from his home, he almost feels like an outsider to his own room.
He knows he needs to sleep, and god's he really wants to, but he can't. Every time he shuts his eyes, his mind makes it's way back to the library. Everything he almost lost, everything he did lose, all the work he put into reaching it which just lead him to wanting to scream at his past self to not go.
Holy shit he really needs to stop thinking like that.
A lot of good came out of the situation. He's only feeling like this because he's overly tired. Practically everyone in his life has told him that the lack of sleep on top of everything is fucking with him more than it would be, but really, how could they possibly know that for sure? Maybe this is just how he's wired, feeling every emotion at the same time all the time.
He groans before shoving himself off the bed. If he's just going to keep torturing himself internally, he might as well be productive while he does it. Royal engineer duties aren't going to complete themselves.
Rapunzel, being the all knowing she is, refused to let him have a work desk in his bedroom. Maybe she thought it would veer him away from working through the night if he couldn't do it by taking 3 steps, but she clearly doesn't know him that well if she thought that would actually work.
He cringes as the floorboards creak as he moves his weight onto them. As gracefully as he can manage in his delirious state, he pads across the bedroom, making it to the door in a few strides. He slowly twists the nob, the cold metal shocking his system enough to make him slightly more aware than he previously was, but it doesn't do much. Even opening the door softly causes it to create a loud creak with each inch it moves. He winces at the noise.
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There was nothing on earth that could have prepared him for the library. None of the stories or theories come remotely close to doing it justice. The temperature was somehow perfect, a light breeze blowing through that gave the illusion he was outside. Each section of shelves wound around each other, towering over him like trees. He scuffed his foot, the earth underneath his boots was so real.
He felt something clench around his heart as he bit back a verbal sob.
He rubbed his gloved hand against his cheek, the feeling of the previous tears clinging to his face serving as a constant reminder of what just happened.
Well, what had been in the process of happening for the last 11 months.
It was his own fault. He overrode his better judgement and gave him another chance. Sure, maybe at first he wasn't convinced that he was trustworthy in the slightest, he would've been an idiot to think that, but god, for the last while he would've bet everything he made the right choice. The rare heart to heart conversations they would have by the fire in the dead of night when they both should've been long asleep, the stupid corny jokes he made that made him want to die for genuinely laughing at, the unspoken words that he was so sure were something they secretly shared.
He may be stupid, but he would give anything to know what about their relationship was real, and what was a facade he blindly let swallow them both whole.
As much as it hurt, he knew he had to move forward. So many people were counting on him, and he wasn't going to let grief control his life again.
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The castle is quiet. The lack of noise causes his ears to ring. After camping outside for so many months, he got used to the constant sounds of the nighttime wilderness, bugs chirping, gusts of wind, the occasional owl, but, the castle is very keen on the absence of wildlife in their walls.
Except for Pascal and Ruddiger on occasion.
He sticks close to the wall as he creeps down the hallway, taking breaks every few moments to listen for any potential people sneaking up behind him.
He's being ridiculous. He's not doing anything wrong, it's just a quick trip down to his lab. If anything, they should be appreciative that he's so willing to work on his free time.
He practically collapses in relief when he reaches his lab. He quickly shoves the door open, a feeble attempt at lessening the noise. He doubts anyone can actually hear it, but he's pretty sure he would tear his hair out if he accidentally woke anyone up.
He slumps into the chair at his desk, trying to clump his mentality into a neat little ball so he can start working on something.
The minor break of not focusing on something instantly reels his brain back into the pure dread he's been trying so hard to run away from. The constant worry in the back of his mind of somehow losing control of his body again begins to slowly creep forward until he's unwittingly clutching his head, heaving for a breath that he doesn't remember losing.
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He never could have guessed how similar he was to his mother. The resemblance was almost uncanny. Her passion for alchemy, the way she was so infatuated with her work. The thought of everything she could've been made something ache in his chest, fueling his drive to find a way to get her out of here.
"A library of eternal knowledge that somehow lacks a way to get out of it. Fantastic." He muttered sourly under his breath, sifting through a large pile of books he picked out. It didn't make any sense. There had to be a way out of the curse, there was absolutely no way there wasn't a book on how to.
"You shouldn't torment yourself over this." Ulla's voice suddenly sounded from behind him, causing him to jump.
"Hah, sorry, I didn't know you were over here." He replied sheepishly.
"Honestly, It's really not on you. I've spent the last 17 years looking for a way out. I'm pretty sure I've read every book at least twice." She chuckled lightly, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face while taking a seat on the ground next to him. Varian didn't meet her eye.
"Mom, I'm getting you out of here. I just need to look harder."
"Varian, you have such an amazing heart, and I really appreciate all that you're doing, but there's no textbook way out, literally." She replied with a snort, before her face fell into something more serious. "But, I do know of a different way."
Varian perked up at the statement.
"What? Why didn't you tell me? What is it??" He asked quickly, turning to face her completely.
"If you would be willing, I could leave the library without a scratch by possessing your body." She explained, taking a soft hold of his hands with a determined smile. "I was never able to attempt this method before due to obvious factors, but now that you're here, I can finally do it."
Varian faltered for a moment, jaw hanging loose with the ghost of a million questions he couldn't begin to think of how to word.
"Uh, that's great!" He settled on, attempting to match her gleeful attitude. "It's just- what'll happen afterwards? Will we both be okay?"
"I'm going to be completely honest with you, I'm not sure, but it's the only shot we have. I know it's a big ask, and if you say no I'll understand completely."
The silent implications of what would happen if he were to say no made his stomach feel sick.
"It's not that I don't want to, I want to get you out of here." He responded quickly. Ulla smiled widely, causing any thoughts about finding another way to free her to vanish. She would know if there was another way.
He couldn't fathom leaving the library without her. Facing everyone he would be disappointing, facing everyone who disappointed him. He's done enough selfish things in his life, if the last thing he does is one big final selfless act, everything he'd gone through before this moment would be worth it.
"I'll do it."
The final moment before it happened, all he could remember was a blindingly bright flash of green light engulfing his entire world.
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He misses Hugo, which is stupid considering he was just with him a few hours ago. Technically speaking, he could go see him right now, he's staying in a room up the hall, but that would mean waking him up and complaining about things that are out of either of their power to fix, and he would rather pull his own teeth out than do that. He's fully capable of handling his own messes.
Handling, ignoring, tomayto, tomahto.
The request he's working on isn't due for another 2 weeks, and it's practically finished, but he can't see himself being able to do anything else for the time being. Work has always been something he could rely on. No matter what life handed to him, no matter how messed up he felt, it was comforting to know he always had something to fall into and not have to worry about anything else.
Concentrating was proving to be slightly more difficult than he anticipated. With the combination of his achey shoulders, burning eyes, and the strong urge to crawl into a ball on the ground and cry, he was struggling to get into the rhythm of mindless work. The desperation to just stop thinking but not being able to was going to drive him insane.
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Varian almost never felt in control of his own life. Every decision had consequences, and it felt like every one he made was the wrong one.
He would like to strangle himself for not being more thankful to have a choice.
His life wasn't his anymore. He didn't know if it ever would be again. At first, it was almost peaceful knowing it was in better hands. No more facing the world alone, no more expectations placed on him on how to act, as if this wasn't his first time being alive just like everyone else.
It was okay, until it wasn't.
Varian fruitlessly cried out desperately as his hand swung forward, causing Hugo to slam backward into one of the shelves. Books tumbled down around him as he groaned, grasping the back of his head. The broken shards from his glasses left cuts around his face. His crumpled form on the ground made him feel sick. This wasn't supposed to happen. Hugo was supposed to leave, somewhere far away where he wouldn't see him again.
Varian's mind whirled with his own emotions and his mother's, creating a dreadful symphony he couldn't decipher if he tried his hardest. All his focus was on the desperate plea of making this stop. Anguish turned him into a selfish, horrible person, but he never wanted this.
He prayed to whatever higher power is out there that Hugo knew that.
Against any will he had, he stalked forward as Hugo weakly attempted to push himself off of the ground. He thought he couldn't feel worse than this, until he suddenly gripped Hugo by the throat and hoisted him into the air.
Hugo struggled, gripping Varian's arm like a lifeline. Varian felt tears well in his own eyes.
No one could have prepared him for how similar his mother was to him.
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He wasn't a stranger to drowning himself in work to escape human emotions. He was practically an expert at it by this point. There were a handful of times in the past where he would work through the entire night, then move on with his day when the sun rose. If he was lucky, he would accidentally fall asleep at his desk.
Eventually, he manages to get started on his assignment. He's not entirely sure when he escaped his spiral of agony, and he's really not inclined to think it about it. He's out, and he just has to stay out until the night is over.
Easier said than done.
A part of him wishes someone would knock on his door and ask him if he's alright. Another part of him really hopes everyone will just leave him alone and let him pretend he's fine.
He should be fine. He should be more than fine. He got out of the situation alive, Hugo's OK, he accomplished what he sought out to do, he managed to get through to his mother before she left.
Even with all that, he so badly wishes the circumstances were different. He knows there was no other option for her. She was never supposed to be able to leave the library, he should be grateful he was able to free her one way or another.
He spent so long wondering what his life would be like if she never left. She was so brilliant, and he heard so many stories of how loving and kind she was. No one in his family ever had a bad thing to say about her.
No one except him.
It isn't fair. None of it is fair. Why did he have to meet the version of her that was so corrupted by grief and anger that it completely changed who she was? Why did he have to be the one to make the choice to make her to move on?
Burdening other people with these questions is pointless. Nothing will change the outcome, and the world is bound to keep turning, wether he's ready for it or not.
All he could do now was keep moving forward.