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A Series of Tangled Tales | A Modern AU • Episode 1

A New Chapter

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 3093

Excerpt:

Varian frowns. “Aw, Dad, you don’t need to go with me to orientation…” “Nonnegotiable,” Quirin declares. Varian considers arguing; however, the humor has evaporated from Quirin’s expression, mouth pressing into a firm line. His dad hadn’t been completely sold on the whole in-person university experience for a 14-year-old kid from the get go. What about online classes? Quirin had asked the academics counselor. But the field Varian is going into requires in-person labs. Not only for the learning aspect, but for safety. Do you really want your son working with potentially dangerous chemicals unsupervised? Neither Varian nor Quirin mentioned that this had already been happening.

The first episode in a Modern-AU following Varian, a 14-year-old child prodigy, as he moves to the capital city of Corona to attend the university there.

VARIAN

“Varian, are you listening to me?”

The question, direct but not unkind, snaps Varian’s attention back to the interior of his dad’s work truck, windshield still dusty with the remnants of the farming community they moved away from two days ago. It still doesn’t feel real, being here, in Corona. Like maybe it’s all some crazy dream he’s going to wake up from.

“Sorry,” Varian says, tearing his gaze away from the dazzling architecture of the capital city to peer sheepishly at Quirin’s profile. “What were you saying?”

A long suffering sigh answers first, but there is a smile on the man’s lips. “I was saying that I’m going to stop by the station first, before we go to your orientation.”

Varian frowns. “Aw, Dad, you don’t need to go with me to orientation…”

“Nonnegotiable,” Quirin declares.

Varian considers arguing; however, the humor has evaporated from Quirin’s expression, mouth pressing into a firm line. His dad hadn’t been completely sold on the whole in-person university experience for a 14-year-old kid from the get go. What about online classes? Quirin had asked the academics counselor. But the field Varian is going into requires in-person labs. Not only for the learning aspect, but for safety.

Do you really want your son working with potentially dangerous chemicals unsupervised?

Neither Varian nor Quirin mentioned that this had already been happening.

And so, they’d packed up the house in Old Corona of everything that had made it theirs and put it up for rent; tucked boxes and furniture in a storage unit; and got a two bedroom apartment about a ten minute drive from the University of Corona in time for the fall semester. His father had managed to get a transfer from OCPD to the Corona Police Department. Quirin had to take a pay decrease and demotion, and while he had not once complained about it to Varian, Varian feels guilty nonetheless.

Varian settles on sighing and grumbles, “I bet no one else’s parents are gonna be there.”

He catches Quirin’s side eye before moving his attention back out the window. Varian isn’t surprised when his dad doesn’t rise to the bait. He’s dealt with too many real delinquents in his career to be stooping to Varian’s childish level.

“Your phone charged?” Quirin asks instead.

Varian nods. “Yep. One hundred percent, as requested.”

“Got your laptop? Notebooks? Textbooks that cost their weight in gold?”

“Check, check, and check.”

“Good.”

The boy rests his forehead against the cool glass, watching flashes of unfamiliar businesses whirl past. This is their city now, for a time. And he knows that eventually, it will become commonplace. However, a queasy feeling turns in his stomach the further they drive away from the apartment, the closer they get to officially stepping into the next chapter of his life. He will never admit it, but he might be a little relieved Quirin is going with him to orientation. If anyone asks, his dad insisted on coming. That’s the truth, and that’s all they need to know.

The rhythmic click clack of the turn signal and they are pulling into the crowded parking lot of Quirin’s new workplace. Squad cars, gleaming in the morning sunlight, are parked in front of the looming brick building clearly marked Corona Police Department in large regal letters over tall, reflective glass doors.

“Do you wanna come in with me?” Quirin asks.

Varian almost says yes, eager to step inside the impressive structure; instead, he feigns disinterest with a shrug. “I’ll wait here.”

“Suit yourself,” Quirin says, climbing out of the truck.

Varian watches the man scale the stone steps two at a time and disappear behind the heavy doors. The moment Quirin is out of sight, Varian regrets not taking him up on the offer to go in. How likely is it that Varian will have time to visit his dad at work once classes officially start? Well, maybe in the summer…

But he’s getting ahead of himself. He needs to get through this day first. And then the next, and the one after that. Varian groans, sinking in the seat and raking his fingers through his bangs. He can do this. He can do this. He has to do this. It’ll be fine. Lots of people go to university. Maybe not at fourteen, typically. But…he’ll be fine.

Pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket, Varian opens the email he received that morning outlining his class schedule. With the AP credits he’d transferred, he is already enrolled in advanced science classes; however, there are several freshman level classes required of all new students, regardless of their prospective fields. Strangely, these are the classes he is most nervous about. After all, these are the classes where he will be forced to sit alongside his fellow freshmen and be judged.

If only he’d inherited his dad’s height and bulk in the gene pool, then maybe he’d stand a chance of looking almost like a normal college student. But no. He’s scrawny as they come and babyfaced. If he heard one more adult say, You’ll appreciate it when you’re older, he was gonna scream. But until he figures out the formula for a growth serum, he’ll just have to let nature take its course and grow normally.

With another heaved sigh, Varian looks back out the window and sees her. A tall, willowy girl, dark, chopped hair grazing a sharp jawline, running down the steps of the station, a book bag jumping against her hip. When she hits the sidewalk, she turns to wave up at a man standing by the doors. Based on his crisp uniform and the glittering badge and medals across his breast, he’s someone important within the department.

But Varian returns his focus back to the girl as she moves to a sleek, black motorbike. It’s nothing like the dingy thing he’d put together from spare parts that his dad had refused to let him do anything with but drive up and down their long, gravel driveway. Now it’s in their storage unit, even though Varian had thought it would be a great way for him to get to the university on days Quirin couldn’t take him. His dad had not agreed. At all.

The girl is putting on her helmet and fastening it when the truck door opens and a voice says to his back. “What are you looking at, kiddo?”

Varian startles, face burning, as he whirls around to see Quirin climbing back into the truck. The barely suppressed smirk on his dad’s face says that he knows exactly what, or rather who, Varain was looking at. He scowls at the dashboard and crosses his arms.

“She’s pretty,” Quirin tells him. “A little old for you, but pretty.”

“I wasn’t looking at anyone,” Varian mutters at his sleeves.

“Uh, huh.” Quirin chuckles and the truck roars back to life.

Varian sneaks a glance back out the window, but the girl is already gone. Probably weaving effortlessly through traffic on her fantastic motorbike to some awesome destination.

A large hand reaches across to rest on Varian’s knee, squeezing the joint with gentle firmness. “You ready?” Quirin asks, the teasing tone now leaked out and replaced by something encouraging.

The sharp sting of embarrassment dulls a little, and Varian nods and expels a nervous breath from his lungs. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The University of Corona campus sprawls over several acres of land on the edge of the city’s center. Varian and Quirin toured the campus during summer break, following a bubbly campus rep through courtyards and classrooms, libraries and lecture halls. However, the campus looks completely different when it’s inhabited. Varian feels impossibly smaller, slipping into Quirin’s shadow as they follow the brightly colored banners guiding new students to their first assembly. A younger Varian might have reached out for Quirin’s hand, but he banishes even the temptation from his mind, settling for shoving his hands deep in his hoodie pocket. Varian is also all too aware of the countless eyes following him, and resists the urge to hike his shoulders up to his ears.

“Just wait,” Quirin says over his shoulder, “in a couple weeks, this will feel like your second home.”

“Third home, technically,” Varian squeaks back and winces.

He isn’t sure if his dad pretending not to notice is worse or better.

“True,” Quirin says smoothly. “Old Corona will always be your first home.”

Varian allows his shoulders to creep up a bit. “Maybe we should’ve waited a semester,” he says, swallowing.

Quirin glances down at him. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

“I’m not,” Varian protests weakly, “It’s just…maybe it would’ve been better.”

When Quirin rests a heavy hand on Varian’s shoulder, Varian leans into the contact and pretends he doesn’t feel the pressure of tears on the back of his eyes. “Son,” Quirin says, voice low for only Varian’s ears, “you’re going to do just fine here. We both are. Believe it or not, I’m nervous about starting at a new department, myself.”

Varian does believe it; however, at least Quirin has years of experience on his side. What does he have? Not much. “Do you really think I’ll be fine?”

“I do,” Quirin says with a confidence Varian longs to have just a fraction of. “Let’s take it one day at a time.”

Varian nods and takes a fortifying breath. “Okay. I think I can do that.”

“Good.” Quirin gives him a small push in the direction of the assembly hall. “Well then, lead the way, kiddo.”

QUIRIN

It had been hard, leaving Varian on campus while he drove back to the station. Harder than Quirin had anticipated, and he’d anticipated it to be hard. He’d sat in the parking lot twenty minutes after Varian’s first class started. It was only syllabus day, professors going over reading materials and project specifications and paper guidelines. Mundane. Not dangerous. Yet. Quirin hadn’t looked up how often there were lab accidents on college campuses, because no number of statistics had taken into account Varian being present.

His son is doubtlessly brilliant, endlessly resourceful, and undeniably naive. How the kid can understand cause and effect, but not understand cause and effect in the same breath is beyond Quirin’s understanding. It is one of the main reasons he decided that this education needed to happen. The sooner Varian is taught how to safely do what he was going to do anyway, the better.

Now, Quirin is sitting in the University parking lot again, this time as the sun is setting over the campus, shadows creeping across the manicured lawns and sidewalks. He’d texted Varian that he was waiting, just a quick I’m here. He had waited five minutes for Varian to text back and was about to call him instead when his phone chirped in reply, Be right there!

Five minutes stretched into ten, fifteen. At the twenty mark, Quirin will be calling.

It’s nineteen minutes when he sees Varian running down the empty sidewalk with his overstuffed backpack clinging precariously to his back, fuller than it was this morning by a longshot. Quirin flashes the headlights at him, and Varian returns the signal with a wave.

“I think we need to redefine the definition of ‘be right there’,” Quirin says when Varian swings the back passenger door open to toss his backpack inside.

Varian slams the door shut without answering, and moves to the passenger door, grinning at Quirin through the glass before opening it and scrambling inside the cab. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. I got distracted.”

“Hmmm.” But he can’t stay annoyed with the boy practically beside himself with excitement. “Wanna tell me how the day went?”

Varian doesn’t need to be asked twice. “It was amazing, Dad! Remember when we toured campus this summer? Well, now that classes are in session, the labs are fully stocked. They showed us where everything is. Some of it’s under lock and key, of course, but the fact that it’s there, you know?”

Quirin nods, and the subtle movement encourages Varian enough to launch into detailed descriptions of his chemistry focused classes, his syllabi, and the assignments he is most looking forward to. Most of the information flies over Quirin’s head, although he picks up a few familiar words in the excited torrent. They are almost back to the apartment before Varian stops to take a breath long enough that Quirin can get a word of his own in.

“And how were the freshman classes?”

Varian’s mouth snaps shut with an audible clack of teeth. While the kid had never admitted that he was nervous about those required classes, he’d tried to weasel his way out of them long enough that Quirin knows they are a sore topic.

It surprised him that Varian would be nervous about meeting classmates that would be the closest to his age. In the higher level classes, he’d be working with older students who likely would resent a literal child learning alongside them. If it were Quirin, that would be the situation to gnaw at the edges of his nerves.

“They were good,” Varian admits. “Kind of a waste of time, in my opinion, but I guess I’ll get something out of them.”

Quirin wants to ask if Varian’s made any tentative friends; however, he thinks that might be pushing too far yet. It’s only the kid’s first day. He should give him a week to get settled before he starts asking that kind of thing. Right?

An idea strikes, and Quirin doesn’t pull into the apartment, driving by without even slowing down.

Varian gapes at him. “Dad, you missed our turn.”

“Did I?” Quirin asks innocently. “I thought we would go out to eat to celebrate our first days.”

Varian’s mood shifts again like a flicked lightswitch. “Okay!” he says, bouncing a bit in his seat. “Where at?”

“Surprise me,” Quirin says with a shrug. “Your choice.”

Varian pulls out his phone. “I think I heard something about a really good sandwich shop!”

Quirin grins. This kid and his sandwiches. “Sounds good, kiddo.”

There is a significant drag to Varian’s steps as Quirin watches the boy trudge to the truck at the end of Day 6. The first week of university had been all smiles and excitement, and ended with a weekend of organizing and unpacking their new living space to fit their new reality. Monday morning had begun with the energy only Varian is capable of: chaotic and purposeful. Shoving his finished assignments and library books and pilfered experiments into his backpack before running out the door followed by a far more sedated Quirin.

At lunchtime, Varian had texted a nonsensical message regaling Quirin with the excitement of something that happened in a morning chemistry class. Varian promised a more detailed explanation at dinner that night and signed off before Quirin could reply.

And now, Quirin had texted Varian a simple “here” to let his son know that the end of the day had arrived. The response message had been concerning. Just: coming. And he had come, immediately, almost as though he’d been waiting for Quirin to arrive rather than being interrupted from his study session in the library.

Varian doesn’t put his backpack in the back seat, opting to immediately pull himself into the truck and shove the bloated bag down at his feet.

“Is everything alright?” Quirin asks when Varian doesn’t even so much as offer a greeting.

Varian shrugs. “Fine.”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” Varian says, obviously lying as he knots his hands together nervously.

Quirin decides not to push the issue…for now. He’ll let the kid decompress a bit. “It’s meatball Monday,” Quirin says, turning to look over his shoulder before backing out.

“Okay.” Varian leans against the door, turning his back as much as he can away from Quirin and looking out the window.

This kid makes it hard not to ask questions.

“I was thinking subs or spaghetti,” Quirin continues breezily, pulling out onto the main street.

Varian sighs. “I’m not really hungry.”

Quirin lets the silence settle between them, loud and thick. Pestering Varian for an explanation won’t do much good, but he hates to think that something might be festering that could be addressed and resolved before it gets any worse. On the other hand, what if it isn’t something trivial and childish? What if something significant happened? Something dangerous?

“Rough day?” Quirin finally hedges.

“The worst,” Varian mutters.

“Was it an assignment? A student? A teacher?”

“It’s stupid.” Varian pulls one knee up to his chest, hugging it against him.

Quirin briefly resists the urge to tell him to sit right in his seat. “Oh, I’ve been upset by stupid things before, son.”

Varian sits up, dropping his leg. “Ugh! It’s not like I haven’t been called names before, you know? I guess I thought I’d be different here.”

Quirin tamps down the angry flare of warmth in his chest. His emotional response won’t help anything. Besides, if he’s being honest, he knew this day would be coming eventually. He doesn’t imagine many students take kindly to someone so much younger being elevated to their academic level. Name calling is an easy, albeit petty and childish, outlet for any frustration that might come with that.

“Don’t take it personally, Varian,” Quirin tries gently. “They’re probably jealous.”

Varian gives him a look on the sharp edge of exasperation.

“I know, I know. Easier said than done,” Quirin agrees.

“Everyone laughed, Dad! And they called me Professor Toddler the rest of the day, and now probably for the rest of my life!”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to grin, even a little, at the gross exaggeration. Quirin checks needlessly over his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t betray even a twitch of amusement.

But Varian is far too perceptive. “See!” he wails. “Even you think it’s funny!”

“No, no,” Quirin objects, cursing the shrill of the lie in his voice. “I don’t. Not even remotely. But I don’t think the name will stick for the rest of your life.”

“But it could,” Varian laments stubbornly.

This is an argument logic will not win tonight. “Well, if it does, we’ll just have to have our names changed legally. Won’t be nearly as funny if it’s the truth, will it? What do you think? Officer Quirin Toddler. Has a nice ring to it.”

Varian snorts indignantly, but doesn’t turn his face away in time for Quirin not to catch the smile that sneaks across his face.

END NOTE:

Hiya, everyone! I'm so excited for this AU. I'm plotting, scheming, and watching the series all the way through for the first time. I've skimmed it several times, so getting into the thick of it has been awesome!

This AU will diverge from canon in some ways (one of the major ones being that it is a modern setting, obviously), while sticking to canon in other ways...just to keep things new and interesting 😉

I will be posting "episodes" as I get them finished and polished, so bear with me.

Other characters will be making appearances as we go...and I look forward to translating them into a modern setting alongside Varian.

#tangled the series #modern au #au #ao3 #archive of our own #varian tts #tts varian #varian the alchemist #tangled varian #Varian #tts quirin #fanfiction #fanfic #fics by jaynie #jaynie writes

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