Chapter Text
Rapunzel is walking on a bridge of black stone.
Beneath her feet the rock turns icy blue at her touch, the pale colors flaring out like paint on water, a burst of intense color and then fading wisps unfurling to nowhere. They bloom like flowers beneath her feet, urging her onwards. The bridge stretches out into eternity, its start and end hidden by the horizon and a soft gray fog. She doesn’t know where it goes.
The path is cold against her bare toes, so cold it burns, pain tingling up and down her legs. No wind stirs the dry, icy air—her hair hangs flat and heavy from her scalp, shifting only with her movement, the long strands dragging behind her. Still, she walks on. She cannot say what drives her, only knows in her heart that she must keep moving, unless—
It is then that Rapunzel realizes she is alone.
There is nothing else. No world beyond the stone path, no people. Just the bridge, the fog, the void surrounding them all—and Rapunzel, walking an endless road, going nowhere, with no-one.
Fear strikes her heart. She is alone. She is alone on a bridge of icy stone, and the path is so, so cold.
“Eugene? Cass? Is anyone there?”
Her voice echoes, bounces back to her, growing louder and fiercer. It is mocking her. Is anyone, is anyone. Is anyone there?
No, the silence seems to say. There is no-one here but you.
“Please,” Rapunzel says.
Beneath her feet the colors bloom. Bright, burning blue. Polar white. Shining and gleaming like gems. Cold as ice and just as merciless.
In the distance, Rapunzel can hear screaming.
Her head snaps around, heart hammering in her chest. She knows that voice. She knows it.
“NO!”
Rapunzel turns on her heels and runs blindly into the distant horizon.
She runs until her feet ache, until her breaths wheeze, until her hair pulls back on her scalp, as heavy as a ball-and-chain. She runs until that awful blue turns a blinding yellow, until those hauntingly familiar screams fall quiet.
The fog is lighter here, glowing a soft and unworldly gold. Like the sunrise, or the Corona lanterns, it leads her onwards now that the screams are silenced. Except no, Rapunzel realizes, as she reaches the source of that gentle light. Not gold after all. Amber.
A man encased in glowing amber, and a small form collapsed at his feet, shoulders bowed and shaking.
Rapunzel walks to the boy’s side, hesitates, leans down to touch his shoulder. “Varian,” she says. Her words are blank, calm, absent. Devoid of any feeling, wiped clean of any anger, any betrayal. As unbothered as the icy road she’d walked upon. In her chest, her heart twists.
Varian looks up at her touch, meets her gaze without flinching. His eyes are swollen and rimmed with red, tears running freely down his face. He does not seem to notice them, or perhaps it is that he doesn’t care. His face is calm. Just like Rapunzel, his eyes shine free of anger, of hatred, of pain: of anything.
The amber glow ignites the air around them. The fog shies away from the amber grave, from them. The stone path beneath their feet begins to crumble, turns to rubble, turns to ash. The dust flies up in the air like fireflies, a hurricane of ruin and smoke.
“It has to be me,” Varian says, and the world burns gold, as fierce and as blinding as the sun. “It has to be me.”
-
“This is madness, Rapunzel.”
Rapunzel takes a deep and calming breath, refusing to be swayed. At her side, her fists clench.
“It’s not madness,” Rapunzel repeats stubbornly, her voice tight with forced composure. She has been saying this for almost an hour now, a tiring back and forth that is wearing her down both mentally and physically. She has spent the whole morning agonizing over this choice, and her father is not making the decision any easier.
She wishes he hadn’t made it into this. A private conversation, at least, would grant her more leeway. But no: Rapunzel is standing before a court of law, her father settled high above her on his throne, the advisors around him. Rapunzel stands before and below them, feet aching from staying still for so long. She cannot imagine how the people dare to do this every day, stand in those lines and look up to the king to state their woes. Seated there above her, her father seems frightfully tall.
She wishes Eugene were here. Even if there is no way he can help—even though he himself had been against this—his mere presence would be comforting. But Eugene is not one for court, and though his humor is one of the things Rapunzel loves most about him, here it would hinder her argument. She needs them to take her seriously, and Eugene does not do ‘serious’ all that well.
She is not, however, here alone. In the shadows of a far-off corner, Cassandra stands tall and at the ready, her eyes flinty. For once Rapunzel is not sure this is a good thing.
In most cases. Rapunzel would be overjoyed at Cassandra’s presence. Some part of her, the part that is unaware of things like context, is still grateful. Unfortunately, in this instance, Cassandra is not on Rapunzel’s side, and unlike Eugene, she will not be swayed without an explanation. For Cassandra, it’s personal.
Varian had tried to kill her, after all.
“In what way is this not madness?” her father challenges, drawing Rapunzel’s eyes back to the stand. “Daughter, listen to yourself. You are proposing that we free the boy who attacked our kingdom and kidnapped your mother… for what?”
“For the betterment of the kingdom,” Rapunzel says, yet again. “Dad, I understand, really I do—but it makes sense. Varian is a genius. Admittedly a, um, misguided one, but…” Her father’s eyes narrow, and Rapunzel feels a sliver of panic strike her gut. She is losing him. “Dad, if we really want to understand this curse, I need his help! As much as I wish otherwise, I can’t do this alone.”
Her father doesn’t look convinced. “The boy is a criminal, Rapunzel.”
“That boy is also the best alchemist Corona has ever seen,” Rapunzel says, near pleading. “I can find where the rocks lead. I can see their end. But I can’t understand them. I’m not an alchemist, Dad. Varian is.”
“The only thing that boy is,” Nigel pipes up from the side, the advisor’s voice laden with disapproval, “is dangerous.”
Rapunzel grits her teeth. “I know that! I’m not saying he isn’t. But before two weeks ago, he was the only one to gain a reaction from the rocks!” She turns back to her father, resisting the urge to clasp her hands. This isn’t a plea—it’s a request. She is not a daughter asking a favor, but a citizen of Corona asking for help. “The only one, Dad.”
“With disastrous results, daughter!”
The reminder of Quirin and his amber crypt makes her flinch. For a moment the memory of her dream is so real it is almost tangible. The cold stone beneath her bare toes burns like ice.
But the reminder of her dreams—of what inspired this plan in the first place—steadies her. It has to be me. She has dreamed of those words one too many times. There is no way that it’s a coincidence.
Rapunzel ignored her dreams once before, and it nearly cost her everything. She won’t make the same mistake twice.
“But still a reaction,” Rapunzel implores, pushing past the guilt. “I don’t need his alchemy, just his knowledge about alchemy. Varian has as much reason as we do to want to understand the black rocks. I need his help, and he can’t help me while he’s in a cell.”
“He is dangerous,” her father repeats sternly. “I understand you wish to give him leniency, my dear, but to allow the boy to go free—!”
“He won’t be free,” Rapunzel says, though the words taste like ash in her mouth. She fights through it. Guilt can come later. She needs to convince her father now. “I’m not—I know, I know that what he’s done… it can’t be forgiven. I’m not asking you to let him go, Dad, I’m asking you to let me take him with us.”
“Even then, the risk of escape is too great.”
“It is though?” Rapunzel counters. “Eugene, Cassandra, and I—we are all decent fighters, Dad, you know this. Cassandra more so than us both. Varian—without his alchemy, Varian is just a kid.”
Her father taps his fingers against the arm of his throne, a heavy frown etched into his stern features. But for the first time since this conversation started, a line of tension in his brow has eased. “Rapunzel, I cannot allow you to take this risk.”
Rapunzel meets his gaze squarely. She is winning this verbal battle—she can tell. She has the advantage, and now she must do what her mother has taught her, and keep it. “No offense meant, your Majesty,” she says quietly, “but you aren’t at liberty to decide what risks I can or cannot take.”
It’s a low blow, but Rapunzel is tired of coddling her father. Her choices are hers, and though he says he knows this, it is time for him to prove it. She takes a deep breath and pushes onward. “My king,” she says, formal because she is serious and she wants her father to know this, “I need Varian’s help. Our kingdom needs his help. He may be dangerous, but we’ll take precautions, and he’ll be under the watch of the finest warrior we have. It’s a risk, yes. But if we don’t do this…” She lets her voice trail off, lets the silence linger, before she finishes. “Then we will be putting the welfare of Corona at risk, instead.”
Her father sags back against the throne, one hand rising to pinch his brow, expression tight with internal strife. When he finally speaks again, his voice is muffled.
“I hope this idea isn’t merely born from your guilt, daughter.”
“No,” Rapunzel says. “Not guilt. I just want to help our people—all of our people. I promise to be careful, but Dad—you said you trusted me to come back, when I go to follow the rocks. Please, trust this too! I can take care of myself. I promise.”
It’s the last words that get to him. Her father has learned how seriously Rapunzel considers her promises, even after Varian—or perhaps especially after Varian.
“Very well,” he says at last, reluctance in every word. “If you truly feel this strongly about it… I’ll trust you, my dear.”
Rapunzel bites back her smile and resists the urge to cheer. The court is no place to celebrate. She curtsies low, instead, head bowed to hide her glee at her victory. “Thank you, Dad.” She straightens up, and then she does smile, then, bright and firm. “I won’t let you down.”
Her father’s answering smile is a weak thing—but it is there. “Oh, Rapunzel. I have never any doubt about that. I only wish you to be safe.”
“And I will be safe, Dad.” Rapunzel meets his eyes. “I promise.”
He laughs at that, soft and sad. “Well, then. If you are certain.”
“I am,” Rapunzel says in reply. She bows one more time for good measure, and then strides confidently from the room. The court bursts into furious whispers behind her, but Rapunzel trusts her father to sway them to her side now that she has swayed him onto hers. She pushes open the doors without stopping, only waiting for Cassandra to exit. The moment her friend is through, she slams the door shut behind her with a loud sigh of relief, leaning back against the wood.
Moving to stand in front of her, Cassandra shuffles her feet, fabric shifting as she crosses her arms. For once, she doesn’t give Rapunzel time to catch her breath before interrogating her—though this time, Rapunzel can understand why.
“Are you sure about this?”
Rapunzel grimaces, shutting her aching eyes tight against her building headache. For a moment she considers giving Cassandra the same answer she gave her dad, but—this is Cassandra. Cass. She deserves the whole truth, not the false confidence Rapunzel has been projecting.
“Not really,” Rapunzel admits softly, near shamefully, and sags heavily against the door, leaning all her weight against it and just barely resisting the urge to sink to the floor. “I just… I know this doesn’t really make sense. And I know, you and Eugene…”
She sighs, unable to finish, her thoughts casting back to this morning. Eugene had protested her idea loudly and immediately, but Cassandra… Cassandra had just gone quiet.
Now, in the present, Cassandra pulls away, biting her lower lip and looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Her arms uncross, dangling loose by her sides, her defensive stance falling away. “Raps, it’s not… We just don’t want you…” She cuts herself off, making an angry noise in the back of her throat, before finally settling on, “I just don’t want you hurting yourself out of guilt, Raps.”
Her concern prompts a thin smile. “I know,” Rapunzel says, warmth in her heart. “And I really, really appreciate it. But Cass, it’s not… I’m not doing this because of guilt.”
Cassandra raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, so not completely because of guilt,” Rapunzel amends. “It’s just…” she trails off, glancing back to the door behind her, and pushes herself to her feet with a sigh. “Can we walk? I don’t want…” She gestures to the door, expression pleading.
Cassandra nods. “Okay. So long as I get answers.”
Rapunzel smiles at her. “You will. Thank you, Cass.”
“Yeah, yeah. Start walking, Raps.”
Rapunzel laughs softly, starting down the hall, Cassandra following close at her heels. The walk is calm and quiet, peaceful and comfortable, and as she wanders Rapunzel muses on her thoughts, pulls together words from otherwise vague feelings.
“I told my dad to go easy on Varian, that night,” she says, finally, when the words come. Cassandra eyes her, but says nothing, letting her finish. Rapunzel is pathetically grateful for it. “When they took him away. And… lately, I’ve been thinking… I’ve just, I’ve been running, Cass. Ever since the storm, I’ve been running from my problems, too scared to face them.”
At this, Cassandra’s face pinches. “What Varian did isn’t your fault, Raps. And it isn’t your problem.”
“No,” Rapunzel agrees. “But Varian— Varian is my problem. I can’t keep expecting others to deal with him just because I’m…” It feels shameful, almost, to admit this aloud. But this is Cass, her best friend, and if Rapunzel can’t say it to her she can’t say it to anyone. “…Because I’m too afraid to look him in the eye.”
Cassandra grimaces at this, her shoulders falling in defeat. A sad smile tugs at her lips. “And this has nothing to do with the fact your father is notoriously hard on criminals? Especially those that hurt his family?”
Rapunzel gives a wry smile in return, thinking sadly on Attila. That had been a near crisis, and the speed with which the situation had spiraled still haunts her at times. “Well,” she says. “There is that, too.”
Cassandra purses her lips. They walk on, quiet for a few more halls, before she sighs loudly and says, “Okay, Raps. What are you planning?”
Rapunzel splutters, hands flailing in the air in her haste to deny this. Of course Cassandra has noticed. Of course. Rapunzel is so bad at hiding things. “I’m not planning anything!”
Cassandra doesn’t seem even remotely convinced. “Yeah, right. Spill, Rapunzel.”
“…You have to promise to keep this a secret.”
Cassandra does not look impressed with this clause. “Oh, like how you kept the night of your coronation secret—”
“Cass. Please?”
The unusually solemn tone of Rapunzel’s voice makes Cassandra pause, and she grumbles quietly for a few moments before exhaling loudly. “…Oh, fine.”
“Thanks, Cass,” Rapunzel says, meaning it. She can’t quite muster a smile in return, though, not about this. “Okay, so… I’m going to visit Varian tonight.”
“What?!”
“Shh!”
Cassandra lowers her voice to a hiss. “What? Raps, are you nuts?”
Rapunzel winces, drawing away from Cassandra’s ire. One hand rises up to tangle in her long hair. “I know, I know! I just… it doesn’t feel right, just dragging him after us. If he comes, I… I want him to make that choice, you know?”
Cassandra closes her eyes, one hand rising to pinch at her nose. “So, let me get this straight. You want us to sneak down into the dungeons—”
“Err, ah, I was thinking of going alone, actually.”
“—alone, wow, that makes me feel so much better. Okay. Whatever. You want to sneak in… and you want to talk with the homicidal teen who, may I remind you, hates your guts, and somehow convince him to travel with the people he dislikes most?”
“Well…” Rapunzel hedges, and waves her hand in the air back and forth like a seesaw. “…Yes?”
“Rapunzel.”
Ooh, the Voice of Doom. That doesn’t bode well. Rapunzel reaches out and grabs Cassandra’s hands, clasping them between hers and leaning closer. “Please, Cass,” she says, almost begging. “I know it doesn’t make sense, okay? I know. I… I can’t really explain it. I just, I have to do this.”
It has to be me. Even if it’s only a dream, Rapunzel thinks the words have some merit. If Varian comes with them on the journey, if he cooperates, if he helps them… if they are ever to make amends, it will have to be his choice.
Cassandra looks away from Rapunzel’s earnest stare, shoulders slumping. Her face is twisted with indecision. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But you’re still going to do this?”
She feels awful saying this, but… this is Cassandra. She’ll understand. “Yes.”
“Ugh,” Cassandra says, and then pulls her hands from Rapunzel’s grasp. “Okay. …okay. I’ll help.” She sighs, loud and heavy, her whole body sinking with the sound. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Raps.”
Rapunzel manages a smile. “I do, too.” She leans forward on impulse, reaching out to wrap Cassandra in a bruising hug. “Thank you, Cass. I know this is hard for you, too.”
Cassandra hugs her back without hesitation. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, but there’s a smile in her voice. After a moment she pulls away and looks Rapunzel in the face, frowning slightly. “But Raps…You know Varian… you know he’ll be nasty. Right?”
“I know,” Rapunzel admits, shoulders slumping. “I’m ready for it. I’ve… I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.” She straightens, puts her hands on her hips, and beams. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, Cass.”
“Tonight? Sure,” Cassandra says. “But… Raps, if he travels with us, he’ll be nothing but nasty. Are you sure you can handle that? He… I know, I know, this isn’t because of guilt but… he gets to you.” Cassandra bites her lip, hesitating briefly, then finally says, “He hurts you.”
Rapunzel looks away.
“You’re right,” she says softly, eyes on the floor, because it’s true what Cassandra says, all of it. Ever since the storm, thinking of Varian makes her sick to her stomach, dizzy with uncertainty and indecision. “But… Cass, if I don’t do this? If I just leave Varian here and go on ahead… sure, the journey will probably be a lot more pleasant. But—”
She stares at the tiled floors until her vision blurs, and then lifts her eyes to Cassandra’s face. She takes Cassandra’s hand from her shoulder and squeezes her gloved fingers tight. “But if I do leave Varian here, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. I have to do this.”
It has to be me.
“I won’t run away,” Rapunzel says, with finality. “Not anymore.”
-
It is late when Rapunzel walks down into the dungeon, the moon is still high and the sun nowhere in sight. The whole castle is still and quiet, the streets empty, the guards few and scattered, stuck to their usual shifts. It’s easy to take a dark cloak, slip it over her shoulders, and walk down to the dungeons. Easier still for Rapunzel, who still walks barefoot more often than not, and whose footsteps are quieter than anyone else’s. Too many years sneaking across the stone floor of a tower.
Cassandra slips her out from her room, but even without her help from there on, Rapunzel finds her way to the dungeons with little fanfare.
No one sees her enter, and no one stops her. The rustle of her cloak and the soft patter of her footsteps are too soft for the guards to hear, and after a year in this castle—a year with Cassandra, especially—Rapunzel knows the guard shifts well enough to steer clear from their path with ease.
Sometimes she wonders if that was Cassandra’s intention all along.
Either way, it serves her well now. Not even the prisoners stir when Rapunzel slips through their halls, and the guards in front of the door are easily distracted. All it takes is a rock thrown down the hall and into a cell, and the commotion draws them away like moths to a flame, just as Eugene taught her. Pascal jumps from her shoulder to follow after them, just as planned—he’ll serve as the distraction, create more mischief, give Rapunzel more time.
Rapunzel knows too many tricks and turns, courtesy of her friends. No one would ever expect it of a princess, but then, in Rapunzel’s defense, she has only been a princess for little more than a year now. Besides, it’s useful.
She slips through the door of the solitary cell, closing it soundlessly behind her. Even with the guards distracted, she doesn’t want to risk being overheard. This has a high chance of going very, very badly.
The thought makes her stomach churn; her hands tremble. For a moment she wants to leave this cell behind and never look back, leave the issue of Varian in the capable hands of her father and mother and the courts.
But… no, she can’t. She has broken this promise too many times. Staying away and worrying instead of confronting her fears… that is what led to this whole mess in the first place.
Her hands still. Rapunzel takes a deep breath, and turns to the cell behind her.
He’s already awake. Watching her quietly through the bars, blue eyes cold from beneath his fringe. Silent and wide-eyed and staring.
She stares right back, refusing to cower. Her eyes search his frame, noting the missing apron, his shirt hanging off one bony shoulder and the blue cloth grayed from dust. He’s sitting cross-legged against the back wall, hands clutching a sleeping Ruddiger close to his chest. His shoulders are bowed, his head lowered, but his eyes glare up at her, gleaming in the thin moonlight from the lone window. There is no give in his expression. There is nothing in his face at all.
She should be angry, Rapunzel knows; she came prepared to be angry. But looking at him, she can’t find the strength. The sting of betrayal has dulled, now, turned dusty and bitter but bearable. It is hard to be angry when he looks like this—defiant, quiet, and—
Tired.
Yes, that’s the word. He looks tired. Stick thin and raggedy, his hair a tangled mess and growing out of its usual cut. His skin seems paler, his limbs thinner. It’s only been two weeks since they put him in here, but he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink since it happened—his eyes half-lidded and lined with exhaustion, shadowed by dark circles, like a thumbprint-sized bruise in the corner of his eyes.
Rapunzel searches his face, wondering. Once, she had been friends with this boy. Once he had smiled. Once he had seemed so much… lighter.
Once, once, once. What good is there in holding on to past neither of them can go back to?
She settles in front of him, just before the bars, in the same cross-legged position, sitting equal to him. Where his back is bent hers is unbowed, where his hands clutch hidden in Ruddiger’s fur, hers rest in plain view on her knees. They are imperfect reflections, imperfect mirrors.
“Hello, Varian,” Rapunzel says.
Something scornful tugs at his upper lip, creases his shadowed eyes. “Princess,” he says in return, and it is almost a curse. His voice is raspy and thin, hoarse from disuse. In the quiet it cracks like a whip.
Like always, guilt is a familiar tug at the pit of her stomach. It always is, when talking with Varian. The urge to fidget overcomes her, but Rapunzel pushes it down, keeps her hands still and poised, and her gaze steady.
“How are you?” she asks, though she doesn’t expect him to answer. She asks regardless, because if she doesn’t she thinks she will regret it.
Varian’s teeth grit and his lips pull back in a sneer. He doesn’t answer, and that is answer enough.
Rapunzel searches his face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” she observes lightly, and at the hollowness in his cheeks a thought strikes her and she frowns. “And you’re all skin and bones. Have the guards been feeding you?”
He scoffs, light and derisive, the sneer falling from his face as he shakes his head. His long hair hangs like a ragged shroud over his angry eyes. “Princess,” he says, and he must mean to make the words heated, but all he sounds is exhausted. “Why are you here?”
Her lips press in a thin line, but after a moment she lets the matter go. If the guards do have prejudice against Varian, she can find out in other ways. Besides, if he agrees, it is not their disapproval that Varian will have to worry about.
“I’m leaving,” Rapunzel tells him, abandoning the pretense of small talk. “In three days’ time, Cass, Eugene, and I will leave Corona to follow the black rocks. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, or how far they go. I could be gone weeks. Or months.”
“Leaving,” Varian repeats, toneless. Something dark and furious flashes over his face, deep and ugly and full of hatred. An emotion so bitter it almost hurts to see it. “I see. Do you expect me to care, Princess? It’s not as if this has anything to do with me.”
Rapunzel files the ugly look away for later consideration, but refuses to be swayed by it, or his words. She knew Varian would be nasty. She is prepared for it, now.
Where Varian is spiteful, Rapunzel remains calm. “In three days’ time, I am leaving,” Rapunzel repeats. Waits, but this time Varian says nothing, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. She takes a deep breath. Time for the moment of truth. “When I go,” she continues, “I would like you to come with me.”
The hostility drops from Varian’s face. His eyes go wide, surprise loosening his shoulders and startling him upright, mouth falling open, hands resting slack on Ruddiger’s fur. “What?” he says, sounding stunned. Then he seems to catch himself, and he draws back into a hostile little ball, eyes narrowing. “What?”
Rapunzel remains impassive. “I want you to come with me, when I go after the rocks. It’s—it’s not freedom. Not entirely. But Varian, it’ll be better than this cell.”
Varian does not look sold on the idea. “Why?” he demands. “I don’t understand. What are you—”
“Varian,” Rapunzel interrupts, tired of his distrust, “I’m not an alchemist.”
Varian falls silent.
“It’s true that… that this journey is mostly about the welfare of Corona. The black rocks haven’t vanished. But I… if possible, if there is a way to free Quirin, free your father, I am looking for that too. But it was alchemy that trapped Quirin, and if it is alchemy, again, that’s needed to free him…” she trails off. “Only you, Varian. Only you can do that.”
It’s a logical reason. Best of all, it’s a reason that Varian cannot contest. But that is not Rapunzel’s only motive for coming here, for speaking with Varian, for offering this deal.
That night, as the rocks glowed blue as the sky and the automatons fell heavy to the earth, speared through at a mere twist of her will, Rapunzel had looked Varian full in the face. She had met his eyes as the last damning spike speared through his machine, and she had seen the agony in his expression and heard the despair in his voice as he screamed. Not angry, then. Not really. Just grieving.
Months ago, when Varian came to her for help, she turned him away. He left, and she let him leave, and even when the snowstorm faded, guilt over her actions and worry as to what she might find if she looked for him kept her away. She had prioritized herself, she had forgotten him, and the result had been catastrophic.
She is not to blame for Varian, not entirely—he was right to be angry with her, but he was not right to do what he did. Rapunzel knows that. But as the guards led Varian away, and as her father promised to go easy on him, Rapunzel had been struck with a sense of foreboding.
She forgot Varian once, and nearly lost everyone she loved as a result. She had, in fact, lost a friend. Leaving him behind once again, leaving the problem of Varian in the hands of her parents, simply because Varian makes Rapunzel uncomfortable is… it isn’t right. She isn’t sure what it is, but it isn’t right.
Her dreams, strange and troubled, have only served to further that notion.
So this—this deal, this last chance—this is Rapunzel’s solution. She needs to follow the black rocks, needs to stop running from her destiny. But just because she must move forward doesn’t mean she has to leave Varian behind. In a way, this is Rapunzel’s penance. Even if he scorns her offer, even if he spits in her face, at the very least she had the courage to try.
Rapunzel is not at fault for Varian. But she knows that she is not entirely free of blame, either. She is learning to live with that.
“You don’t have to come,” Rapunzel says, when Varian doesn’t reply. “Ultimately, the choice is yours. I won’t force you to go. But… it’s an option.”
At last, life flickers back to Varian’s eyes. “No,” he snaps coldly, and his voice rises in both pitch and fury, shaking with barely restrained emotion. “No, no! I don’t need your help or your pity! I can free my father on my own. I’ll make him proud, and I won’t need your help to do it, ‘Princess.’Get out. I won’t go.”
Rapunzel looks him the eyes, unfaltering in her resolve. If it was just a refusal, she’d leave without question, but—his logic is flawed, blinded by denial, and she could leave it here, she knows, but—she won’t. Not about this. “Varian,” she says, bracing herself. “You can’t.”
He bares his teeth at her, eyes wide and angry. “I can’t what?”
“Do this on your own anymore,” Rapunzel says, simply. When his shoulders draw back and that awful anger reemerges, she pushes on, unrelenting. “Varian, look around you. You’re in a cell. You’re a criminal! My hair didn’t work, the flower didn’t work, none of your machines worked—this, where the rocks are leading, this is the last chance! And you’ll get nowhere so long as you’re stuck in here.”
He flies to his feet, shaking head to toe. Ruddiger, awake now, scrambles from his lap to his shoulders, pawing anxiously at the boy’s face. His comfort goes unnoticed. Varian is trembling, hands curled into angry fists, every part of him drawn tight and furious, as if bracing for a blow. His shriek is near breathless with rage. “You don’t know that!”
Rapunzel refuses to match his anger. She holds onto her composure and calm with grit-tooth determination. No matter how angry Varian becomes, no matter what he says to her, Rapunzel refuses to rise up to the bait. “Okay. Then what are you going to do?”
“I can escape—”
“With what?” she asks. His apron, his tools, even his gloves—all gone. His empty hands clutch at his sides.
“I, I can talk with other prisoners or—”
“No one else is near your cell.”
His voice is rising. “I’ll hold you hostage, then!”
“I nearly won the competition for the strongest warrior in all Seven Kingdoms, Varian,” Rapunzel says, a plea in her voice. It hurts to see this, but it would be worse to leave him in denial. “Do you really think you can?”
“I—” Varian says, “I—I can— I can—!”
He stops, breath stilling and eyes going wide, his voice caught on the words he cannot finish. His chest heaves as though he has just run a marathon. All and any color has drained from his face, his eyes hollow, lips pale and bloodless.
“You can go with me,” Rapunzel says, her gentle voice shattering the sudden silence, “and discover the secrets of the rocks firsthand.
Varian’s voice breaks into what sounds suspiciously close to a sob. His hands fly up to cover his face, and he rocks back hard on his heels, bowing into himself. Guilt strikes deep at Rapunzel’s gut, but then, she is growing used to guilt, where Varian is concerned. She doesn’t react. He needs to understand this. He has to. There is no kindness in letting him delude himself to the truth, not now.
People put so much faith in lies, in denial, in hiding harsh truths. Rapunzel grew up in lies, her whole life drenched in them. She has no more patience for it. No mercy for it. Lies are rarely ever for the benefit of the person being lied to. If nothing else, Mother Gothel taught her that much.
“Varian,” Rapunzel says, “This is—these are your options. You can go with me, still a prisoner, and have a chance at saving Quirin. Or you can stay here, and… and take whatever comes.”
Varian’s hands stay pressed against his eyes, and he curls into himself, bent nearly double, a moment away from collapse. He doesn’t answer. On his shoulders, Ruddiger chitters and paws at his face, crooning softly.
After a moment Varian sucks in a shuddering breath, hands finally dropping from his face. He pulls himself straight as if there is a string at the base of his spine, forcing him to stand tall. His hands are trembling faintly. His eyes are red-rimmed and watery in the dull light, but his cheeks are dry, and the sheer force of hatred in his expression stuns her.
“Tell me, Princess.” To his credit, Varian’s voice is only the slightest bit strangled. “How long did it take for the king to agree to this?” Something bitter tugs at his mouth. “Or—oh, your mother?”
Rapunzel winces. “Nearly an hour,” she admits. Adds, before he can reply, “But it doesn’t matter what they think.”
Shame curls like a vice around her throat at the words, but she doesn’t take them back, and when Varian’s head lifts in surprise she gives him a wan smile. “I want this to be your choice, and your choice alone. If you decide to go, then you’ll go. If you decide otherwise… then I’ll just tell them I changed my mind. Simple.”
He bares his teeth at her in a facsimile of a grin. “And if they change their minds?”
Rapunzel smiles, giving nothing away. “Varian,” she says. “If you decide to go, you’ll go. Trust me.”
This doesn’t seem to bring him comfort. His lip curls in distaste, and he shakes his head like she’s disappointed him. “Oh,” he says. “Is this another one of your promises?”
Rapunzel closes her eyes, hiding her flinch. “No.” She’s learned that lesson, too. Her eyes open again, slow and careful, lost in thought. “Think of it more like… a guarantee.”
Varian’s eyes search her face, and then drop, contemplative, to the floor. His hands fall to his sides. His shoulders slump. He looks, for one moment, so very young.
“I don’t trust you, Rapunzel,” he says, and even though his voice is dull, the venom is as sharp as ever. His eyes rise slowly, meeting her own unfaltering gaze. His smile is a small, bitter and hateful thing. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Rapunzel doesn’t reply, just watches him. After a moment, Varian’s piercing stare wanders away again. His legs fold, collapse beneath him, returning him to the original cross-legged position. Equals, once more.
“I need to think,” he says, tone brooking no argument. “I don’t have your answer yet, ‘Princess.’”
Rapunzel nods, so relieved to hear this she feels nearly lightheaded. “That’s fair. I did spring this on you rather unexpectedly.” She stands, gathering the dark cloak around her shoulders and brushing the dust from her clothes, Varian watching her warily from the corner of his eye. “We’re heading out sometime in the next few days. That’s all the time I can give you.”
She makes to leave, but at the last second, pauses at the door and turns back to look at him. “Varian,” she says. “Please tell me. Are the guards giving you enough food?”
Still sitting in the cell, Varian scoffs, sagging back against the wall. “Why’s it matter?” he asks, the sneer apparent in his voice. “Whether they do or don’t, I wouldn’t eat it anyways.” He laughs, sharp and bitter. “I’m not an idiot—I know some of them probably want revenge. As if I would trust your food, ‘Princess.’”
Ah. The laced cookies. She remembers.
Rapunzel looks at him for a long moment. “Surprisingly enough, Varian,” she says at last, soft, mild, calm— “Not everyone is like you.”
His eyes go wide and startled, and then something unnamable passes over his face, but before he can respond Rapunzel has already turned away. “I’ll send more food up, for you and Ruddiger both,” she tells the prison door. “It’ll be safe. If you want confirmation I’ll make it myself, or someone can try it before you do, to be sure.” She waits. Whatever it is he wished to say before, now Varian is quiet.
“Goodbye, Varian,” Rapunzel says. “I’ll be back. I hope you find your answer soon.”
She slips out the door and into the hall, down the path and through the gates, Pascal dropping from above into her cloak—leaving as quietly as she entered, as swift and unseen as a ghost.
-
Long after Rapunzel has left, Varian is still wide awake.
He’ll pay for this insomnia later, he knows; years of working on projects has left him with plenty of experience with what happens when Varian tries to function on too little sleep. Rambling, mistakes, fainting. Broken beakers and hour-long lectures.
Well. No lectures, now. Not anymore.
His feet are wearing grooves in the floor by now, and Ruddiger has abandoned him to sleep on Varian’s untouched prison cot. He feels a bit guilty about that—Ruddiger deserves a restful sleep. It is not easy for animals to stay locked up in small rooms, let alone a prison cell. The fact Ruddiger has remained with him is… it is something Varian doesn’t really know what to do with. Doesn’t really understand. He knows, if nothing else, that he doesn’t deserve it.
Yet, here Ruddiger is.
As they have for the past few hours, Varian’s thoughts once again stray back to Rapunzel, and her offer. If he took it, would Ruddiger come with him? See the open air and run more freely, only Varian in chains?
He scowls at the ground and turns sharply on his heel before he can hit the wall. Eight steps across, twelve vertical, thirty blocks high. His cell is small and cluttered, just barely enough for one person and even then, it’s enough to make Varian near claustrophobic. He can’t imagine staying here for the rest of his life. The very idea makes him feel ill.
What are you going to do, Varian?
Damn Rapunzel anyway. What does she know? Varian—he can do plenty. Even if he’s in this cell now, there’s no reason for him to be here forever. And… maybe he can escape, one day, escape and find a way to—
Find a way to…
Damn her.
That’s the worst part about Rapunzel’s offer, Varian thinks, only a little bitter. It’s that she is right.
He has no idea how to escape. No idea where to start once escaping, either: the flower and Rapunzel’s magic hair didn’t work, none of his alchemy did anything but make the problem worse, and Varian…
He’s trying. He’s trying and trying and trying, but he can’t—he can’t think of anything. Not a single thing. What next, he keeps asking himself, what next, but the answer is blank. For the first time, there’s no solution. No possibilities. Just… questions without answers, and no way to solve them.
This alone is what kept him from spitting back the offer in Rapunzel’s face, no matter how much he’d wanted to. If Varian is to have any chance of freeing his father… it won’t be in this cell.
He has to get out. But he has no fellow prisoners to manipulate, no weapons to use, no inside knowledge. No friends to rely on. Just himself, and Ruddiger, and this cell specifically chosen to keep him contained. Smaller bars, smaller windows, slim chance of getting himself or Ruddiger through. No way out.
In a way, Rapunzel’s offer is a dream come true. It is also an opportunity. In any other circumstance, the information she’d offered and the journey itself all lend chances for an escape.
He’d call her naive, except that for once, Rapunzel has caught him in a trap. He could escape easily, if he put his mind to it—outside of this cell, there is plenty to fight with. But the secret of the black rocks… the mystery calls to him like a siren song. Once last chance.Once last hope. One final attempt to save his father.
No matter what. Varian had sworn. I’ll make you proud, no matter what becomes of me. Even if meant making an enemy of the king. Or betraying Corona. Or kidnapping the Queen.
Even if it now means playing nice with the people who betrayed him.
Eight steps across, twelve vertical, thirty blocks high. 480 and 720 steps in an hour. No chalk, no rocks—nothing to write with and nothing to do. In this cell, Varian is useless.
Restless, Varian marches to the window and tugs futilely at the window bars. The night wind drifts over his uncovered hands, making his hair stand on end and his skin crawl. The metal bars are so cold they burn against his bare palm. He grits his teeth and holds on until Ruddiger chitters in worry at his feet.
“I don’t want to,” Varian whispers down to him. The one weakness he’ll allow himself. “I don’t want to.”
Ruddiger croons up at him and tugs at his pant leg. No judgment in those blank eyes. Varian has used Ruddiger, manipulated him for his own gain, and while at the time it made perfect sense, now the thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. The raccoon is the one creature left that hasn’t turned on Varian, even though Varian has given the animal every reason to. These past two weeks had been hell, but he knows they would have been so much worse without Ruddiger by his side.
Varian sinks to his knees, finally releasing the window bars. His skin crawls from the memory of the cold. The stone floor presses hard and unyielding against his knees. Varian reaches out and pulls Ruddiger to him, digging his fingers into the raccoon’s soft pelt to comb out the tangles with his nails. After a moment he gives in and buries his face into Ruddiger’s fur instead, hiding shameful tears from view.
Ruddiger croons, and a cold nose presses against Varian’s ear. He laughs, the sound wet and broken, and pulls back to shake his head, wiping away the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand.
“One last chance,” Varian murmurs. His eyes go distant. “I won’t let you down, Dad.”
His fingers tighten in Ruddiger’s pelt. The raccoon chitters and paws at Varian’s leg, worry and uncertainty in those wide dark eyes—but this time, no matter how hard Ruddiger tries, Varian does not respond.
-
Two days later, Rapunzel returns. This time, she doesn’t come alone—Pascal resting regally on her shoulder, and two familiar-looking guards flanking her sides.
In the daylight, Varian can see her more clearly now. Her expression is defiant and bold, her usual purple dress replaced with a dark royal purple tunic and riding pants. Still no shoes. A frying pan is cinched to her waist and her hair is tied back in a secure bun, the remaining loose strands gathered together to create a secure braid, far stronger than her usual lax tie.
Two weeks is not that long a time. But the outfit change, and the new hairstyle, and the look on her face as she watches him through the bars… she seems different, somehow changed from that battle in Old Corona. More resolute. Stronger.
For some reason, this thought makes his skin crawl. Spite prompts Varian to refuse to look away from that annoyingly knowing gaze, sneering at her until her eyes drop away. He hates the way she looks at him, as if she’s trying to figure him out. It pisses him off. It’s not like Varian’s motives are confusing.
“Varian,” Rapunzel says, in lieu of a greeting. “Have you decided?”
He waits, letting the silence stretch, watching. The guards fidget, their eyes darting to and fro. Rapunzel doesn’t flinch.
“Yes,” he says, finally, when the silence has lasted long enough to become uncomfortable. He takes pleasure in watching the guards shift with unease, even if Rapunzel herself doesn’t react, the spoilsport. “I’ll go.”
Rapunzel closes her eyes and dips her head in a nod, her exhale a slow and shuddering sigh. “Okay,” she says. She takes a deep breath and straightens, shoulders pushed back, her lapse of composure vanished as if it had never happened. “Pete, Stan, if you would?”
Varian feels his stomach drop, and in his lap, Ruddiger squeaks in worry at the sudden stiff hold Varian has on his fur. “Wait—we’re, we’re going now?”
Rapunzel looks at him. “Yes,” she says, cautiously. “We’re leaving in another half-hour. I gave you as much time as I could.”
She doesn’t ask if it’s okay with him, or if he’s prepared to leave. Varian grits his teeth. “Fine,” he bites out, and stands, brushing the dirt off his clothes. When the guards enter his cell, it takes effort not to flinch, and he manages to keep his sneer in place even as they loom over him, the heavy chains clinking in their hands.
The chains pinch his thin wrists, heavy and thick, with only a small bit of chain between them to allow for minimal movement of his hands, enough to allow him to exercise but not enough to give him total free range. A longer chain, like the lead of a horse, is connected to it. At his feet similar chains are clasped around his bare ankles, only instead of a lead, he gets an iron ball on a long tether tied to his right foot.
It’s excessive to the point of being ridiculous. Varian doesn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that they consider him this much of a threat.
It takes him a bit to pick up the iron ball, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface and movement hindered by the new restraints on his wrists, but the guards wait patiently for him to get a grasp on it before they gently push him from the cell. Varian nearly stumbles regardless, just barely catching himself before he can trip on his new shackles.
On the floor, thus far darting between the legs of all these new visitors, Ruddiger scolds them from below, jumping up and scrambling for his usual place on Varian’s shoulders. His cold nose digs into Varian’s neck, tiny claws pricking at his collarbone. It’s as if Ruddiger is saying, Here I am, and Varian relaxes slightly in response.
One of the guards startles at Ruddiger’s motion, reaching out, but Rapunzel intercepts the guard before Varian can think to panic. “No,” she says. “Don’t worry. Ruddiger can stay.” She turns to meet Varian’s eyes. Varian stares back, jaw clenched. He refuses to thank her, but he can’t deny his relief.
Rapunzel purses her lips, and then her shoulders drop. “The restraints are just for until we reach the border wall, and then only at nights, except for the ball-and-chain on your leg. I’m sorry, but that one is for the whole journey. This was non-negotiable.” Her lips twist, just faintly, and Varian has a sudden notion on whose idea this was. Apparently, the king holds one hell of a grudge. It almost makes him want to laugh.
“It doesn’t matter,” he tells her. “I don’t care either way.”
Rapunzel sighs. “If you say so.” She picks the lead chain connected to his handcuff and waves the guards away when they reach to help. “No, it’s fine. I’ll take him. Thank you for escorting me.” She smiles as they walk away, then drops the chain like it’s made of molten lava and takes Varian’s elbow instead. When he tries to wrench away, she holds fast.
“Don’t,” she says firmly, but there’s something tired in her voice. “I know you hate me, Varian, okay? Just… please. Wait until we’re outside the capital city?”
He glares at her, but this time when she pulls him forward, he doesn’t fight. Just stares at the ground and counts the stones as they wander through the dark halls of the prison. Their footsteps echo off the walls, their wheezing breaths frightfully loud in the morning calm.
Above them, the world moves on. The sun is shining, the city slowly waking. Cassandra and Eugene and the kingdom all going about their lives without a clue of what is to come. Farther on, Old Corona lies undisturbed without her lone inhabitant, and his father sleeps in the unbreakable crystal. And beyond them—beyond the wall, beyond the Kingdom of Corona, beyond it all—a path of black stone, heading out into the horizon.
One last chance.
Varian won’t fail again.