Chapter Text
The stone corridor of the prison smelled of stagnant river water and damp wool. A single torch lay against the wall, the only thing illuminating this room that was in total darkness, casting vertical shadows over a row of guards that lay posted—some slumped over after a long, uneventful shift, some on high alert, eager to impress the Captain of the Guards.
Footsteps without sound moved amidst the murky cell—multiple clangs, followed by the sound of armor scraping against masonry, then a thud. The figure stepped over the bodies, only reaching down to snag the fallen set of keys that lay against the cold flooring. The keys clinked together as she walked towards one of the cells, slowly and deliberately testing out each key.
The sound of a key slotting into a keyhole, and a click reverberated throughout the room as the cell door opened with a loud creak—she looked around, casting a furtive glance to every crevice around the prison.
"I don't suppose you have a way to get us out of these… bubbles?" inquired Andrew, raising a brow. Lorelei looked down at her tool belt—it contained a few smoke bombs, a dagger (which she didn't think would be able to penetrate the bubble—Varian, of all people, wouldn't just carelessly put them in a bubble that could easily be popped, especially when he was dealing with violent criminals.) She studied his work for long enough—it was impressive, especially for someone who was sixteen when he had made it. The bubble's had no signification of any dilapidation—even after six years. She set her bag down, the multitudinous amounts of glassware rattling against each other as she combed through for a smattering of vials of the solution she concocted—they weren't hard to miss with their glow illuminating the crepuscular corridor. She emptied the vials into the beaker, just enough to pop each of the bubbles that the Separatists were ensnared in.
One by one, she poured just a drop of the solution, the bubbles bursting with a pleasurable pop.
"Guess all that studying's paid off, huh?" noted Andrew. One by one, the Separatists dispersed out of their cell. Momentarily, the group was too filled with elation to realize that they're very much not out of prison yet—not until Clementine backed up too far and stepped on one of the guards' bodies. For a second, the Separatists startled—waiting with bated breath to see if the guard stirred—but he stood perfectly still, much to their reprieve.
"If he thought this would get rid of us, then he was sorely mistaken," Andrew muttered, taking the lead as the Saporians behind him stepped over the still, unconscious bodies
Varian was sitting peacefully in his lab, tinkering with another one of his inventions. Sketches lay strewn about on the floor of his lab, coupled with the Tales of Flynnigan Rider books he still kept after all these years on his bookshelf. Some vials, beakers, and other pieces of glassware were arranged on his table, shaking—and almost spilling when a knock sounds on his door.
"Come in!" Varian replied, before being met with a despondent-looking Eugene—is lips were pressed into a flat line, and his brows were furrowed.
Eugene's boots thudded against the stone floor as he stepped over to Varian's lab table, folding his arms over the other.
"I went back into the cells today…" Eugene sighed, expression darkening as he recalled the moment. "The guards were… unconscious. And the cell—the Saporians…"
Varian opened and closed his mouth like a trout, his mouth instantly going dry. It felt like the air around them went thick. "…Escaped?" Varian's heart dropped at his firm nod, his heart pounding in his ears—suddenly, the room felt narrow, like the walls were closing in on him. If they escaped, then Corona would be in danger—he'd proven himself to Coronans in the past when he'd first imprisoned them. Despite how implausible it was, he still couldn't help but feel a slight sense of unease. What if they thought they helped them escape? No—that couldn't be. He proved time and time again that he's changed, especially with having been the Royal Engineer of Corona. They knew their fears were unfounded, but there was a slight nagging worry in him that told him everything would go to shit.
Varian tried to slow his breathing, but suddenly, everything felt like it was just too much. The brightness of the lights in his lab—his clothes on his skin, their heart pounding heavily in their chest and ringing in their ears—it only heightened everything that was bubbling inside of him. Tears began to flow, as he rapidly scans the room. Looking to focus on anything but this. Anything.
Suddenly, he heard a concerned chitter, and a weight crawling into his lap. Instinctively, his hand went up to touch the familiar gray fur of Ruddiger's coat. Almost instantly, they felt as if their worries melted away. He didn't realize that Eugene was now looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. They hiccuped slightly as they looked up at Eugene, who placed a comforting hand on their shoulder.
"I can tell this is… a lot to take in," Eugene consoled. "It is for me, too. But I know you can do this—you've taken them down before, and we can too, together," he gave him a succoring smile, to which Varian returned. Eugene pulled the alchemist into a tight hug. Varian lingered for a moment, before pulling away.
"The guards are recovering—and we're working closely with the King. Whenever you're ready, come to the throne room," Eugene added, before shutting the door behind him.
Varian took one deep breath, still trying to chew over the situation. You can do this, they thought. He's done this before, so what makes him think he can't take them down again? He drummed his fingers against the table, staring blankly at the wall as if it was the most interesting thing in the room, until he caught sight of the pile of letters that lay at the corner of his desk, a realization hitting him.
Cassandra.
It had been six years since she left, and they knew how important discovering her destiny was to her, and getting in the way of her dreams was the last thing they wanted to do… he didn't want to tie her down again. She now has the opportunity to be seen as an individual, outside of the label of just being Rapunzel's lady-in-waiting, after years of trying to prove herself. But… what if this gave her the opportunity to do that?
With newfound determination, Varian grabbed a pen before sliding over a piece of paper, and began to write:
Cassandra,
It's crazy to think about how six years have already passed before you here—we all still talk about you.
While I'd rather break the news to you in person, the circumstances propounded before us don't really provide that opportunity.
The Separatists of Saporia have escaped. Whatever they plan to do, I know it's gonna be… bad. The fact that they escaped from prison even with those bubbles suggests that its airtime ran out, or an outsider was able to concoct something to counter its structure.
I know that you've had an… interesting endeavor with a Separatist in the past, which is why we need you for this—we can't do this without you, Cassandra.
Signed, Varian.
Sighing, Varian folded up the letter and placed it on his desk. He drummed his fingers against the table, waiting for Owl—who had routinely begun to return to Corona as Cassandra's attack owl—and now messenger. As if on cue, he hears a fluttering of wings, before seeing the familiar avian perched upon his windowsill.
"You're just in time, buddy," He said, gently rolling up the letter and handing it to Owl. "Give this to Cass, okay?"