#Adira deserved a song too

[jeremyjordan-am-i-right]

sometimes I think about how Varian deserved to be in season 2, and all the CONTENT we were robbed of if he’d been along for those adventures, and it makes me want to scream

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel and the Great Tree Part 2

Continuing on with the midseason finale of season two.

Part 1 is here  https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/628826170657570816/tangled-salt-marathon-rapunzel-and-the-great

Summary: After Adira saves Rapunzel and the group from the hurt incarnation, Cassandra makes her suspicions of Adira known which causes a falling out between her and Rapunzel. Meanwhile Hector uses the dormant power of the tree to try and attack everyone. 

Cassandra’s Motivation Doesn’t Aline With Her Later Actions 

If you’re going to have a character do a complete 180 from her original goal, than you need a better reason than just mommy issues; or validation issues, or career problems, or just simply having a falling out, or jealousy, or a ghost girl whispering in your ear, or whatever the fuck they’re trying to do with Cassandra.  

Going from ‘protect’ to ‘murder’ is a huge moral alignment shift that needed clear and reasonable justification. Cassandra is never given that. Instead they just throw everything at the wall that they can think of in the hope that something sticks. 

Only it never does because her original story was re-written at the last minute.   

Well That Was Pointless

Max and Pascal wind up saving Eugene and Lance from the man eating plant. Which adds nothing to the story. It happens and is then never brought up again. It’s just an excuse to write Eugene out of the Cass and Raps conflict and not an extension of either his or Lance’s own narratives. 

That’s a problem, because Eugene should be a main character and Lance an important supporting side character. Instead Eugene is regulated to side character status while Lance is unimportant comic relief. Not only does this ignore that fact that Eugene was the protagonist of the movie same as Rapunzel, but it also ignores the basic writing rule of ‘don’t add in characters who don’t serve a purpose in the story’. 

Adira Just Saved All of Your Asses, Cass

Boy does Adira put up with a lot of bullshit in this show, and 90% of it comes from Cass being a little bitch. 

She has no biases for this argument. Adira hasn’t done anything to warrant this accusation. In fact she’s proven herself time and time again only for Cass to lash out like a spoilt teenager with an inferiority complex. 

And Cassandra is 23!!!    

The young adults on this show are constantly written like pre-teens while the only actual teenager is constantly forced to be the most mature person in the show. 

It’s mind boggling. 

Rapunzel is In the Right Here, But the Show Wants Us to Sympathize with Cass Instead?

Oh No! Raps raised her voice at Cassandra and made her feel bad, you guys. Feel sorry for the poor paranoid baby who who’s acting like a jealous brat for no reason. 

Bull Shit. 

Cassandra not only has nothing to back up her accusation but the narrative never goes on to prove her right either. Adria is on the up and up, and always had been according to Destinies Collide. For all the show’s efforts to make Cass seem reasonable by having Adira mysteriously pop in and out, it all falls flat once you know where everything is heading. 

Plus, even if she were magically right about Adira that wouldn’t excuse her bossing Rapunzel around and insulting her intelligence. Had she done that to me I’d be telling her something a lot harsher than just to knock it off. 

Oh, But I Thought You Said Flashbacks to Corona Would Be Too Confusing?

So one of the writers, Ricky, has gone on record stating that they did originally have plans to show flashbacks to Corona to show what was going on with Rapunzel’s parents, Varian, and the Saporians. He then said they dropped them because they feared that it would be too confusing for the audience. 

Yet we get this pointless scene thrown into the middle of the mid-season finale. 

And by the looks of it it’s before even Beginnings, or maybe after Beginnings, who knows; so it’s not just a change of scene, it’s also a change in time as well. A point in the timeline that’s not been firmly established enough. So it not only has less reasons to exist then a Varian flashback would, but it’s also potentially more confusing than what a simple single episode set in Corona would have been. 

I don’t know who to blame for this poor decision making, if it’s just Chris, Chris and Ben, or a shared blame with all of the writers, but while the buck does stop with Chris, much of what Ricky has said online doesn’t reflect very well on his writing skills. Cause that’s a huge and utter bullshit excuse. 

So What Does This Add, Exactly?

Cass gives Rapunzel this purse as a gift. A purse that’s not been shown to be all that important before and isn’t made significant again. Then Raps launches into this speech about how good a friend Cass is and how lost she’d be without her. 

I understand what the thought process for this was; it’s to show how far Raps and Cass have grown apart recently and what Cassandra herself liked about being friends with Rapunzel to being with, which was the validation boost of being useful and needed; but there’s a lot of problems with including it here. 

For starters, lack of validation isn’t enough to suddenly switch into ‘kill mode’ which is where all of this is eventually leading.  

Validation shouldn’t be the foundation of any long term relationship and so rather than proving how good of a friend they are to each other, you’ve only given futher reason for why they’re toxic together. 

You needed to be building them up all throughout season one before launching into this break up plot. This scene is too little too late because we’ve spent too many episodes tearing Raps and Cass down for this plot to have the effect that they wanted it to. 

Cassandra is just doing her job. She’s suppose to show Rapunzel around and help her with shit, that’s what a lady in waiting does. Cassandra’s friendship with Rapunzel shouldn’t be so tied to her career trajectory to begin with. Not only is it unhealthy but it then is used to victim-blame Rapunzel for all of Cassandra’s problems. Even though the only thing actually holding Cass back is herself, as proven in season three. 

Timeline Confirmed

So it is indeed six months since Secret of the Sun Drop, give or take a few days to organize stuff before the trip. Meaning we’re now a year out from Before Happily Ever After. I point this out now, in order to prove something later on. 

This Logically Should Have Been the End of the Argument, But the Writers are Dragging Things Out Needlessly 

You know what I hate more than a ‘lack of communication causes drama' trope? Characters taking the time to communicate and still missing the bloody point and not resolving anything. 

Technically, Rapunzel is still in the right. She is an autonomous person capable of making decisions for herself, and Cass does need to get over herself and treat Rapunzel as such and stop getting butt hurt over not being the one in charge. 

But then we have to ruin that message by throwing in this line. 

Like, yes you’re technically in charge here Raps, but making decisions shouldn’t mean walking all over someone's feelings either. Being a leader is just as much about listening as it is about taking charge and neither of these characters understand that yet. 

And they never will, cause the writing for them is shit. 

When I first saw season two I honestly believe that this would tie into Rapunzel’s previous conflicts regarding responsibility and hypocrisy. I thought they had an arc here about learning to balance assertiveness and personal boundaries, with genuine compassion and respect for others. Had they went through with that then this could have been something truly special, but they go and throw it all away come season three. Now its just heartbreak and frustrating to watch. 

Also Stupid ‘Sisters’ Plot Foreshadowing 

More on this later, but just know if you hate the idea of calling Raps and Cass sisters then blame Chris. 

This Song Underlines The Core Problem With Cassandra's Arc

There’s no stakes.

I’ve already discussed at length now about how Cassandra’s goals and motivations are inconsistent, and how her actions don’t line up. But the reason the writers are struggling so hard to find something that fits her, is because the story has grown past her. 

We’ve already seen characters who struggle with poverty, homelessness, neglect/abuse, and oppression. There are now tons of people in the story who are fighting just for survival, and they’re all regulated to either supporting roles, one off appearances, or are background characters. 

So with that in mind what is there to justify Cassandra getting focus over them? What is she struggling with here that deserves more screen time and attention than, Eugene, Varian, Lady Caine, or even Adira? 

Cassandra isn’t poor. She lives well off in the castle and has high ranking connections. She’s not even struggling with a job she hates anymore because we’ve already seen her promoted to the one she wanted by this point.  

Cassandra isn’t homeless, she once again lives in the castle and if she chooses to leave she has plenty of opportunities waiting for her, as evidenced by Goodbye and Goodwill and Beginnings. Plus she’s shown to be capable of supporting herself both in this season and the next.  

Cassandra isn’t oppressed. She can leave anytime she wants to. She can defy the king's orders in SotSD because she’s the princesses’s bestie. She doesn’t face jail or hanging just because she and Raps has a fight now and then. 

The only thing going for her is possibly neglect/abuse, but that’s not been introduced into the story yet and isn’t what she’s discussing here. It also contradicts what was previously established between her and Cap in season one when it does come into play. 

Validation Alone is Not Enough to Connect With Most of the Audience 

Even the stanchest of Cassandra supporter often has to heavily project onto her in order to connect with her. Which isn’t a bad thing in of itself. Everyone projects to some degree or other when exploring media, that’s part of being human. But the problem is that because she’s so thinly written you’re left with little else but projection. And so you’ll hear excuses like, well she’s fighting the class system, she’s an abuse survivor, or she deserves to lash out over not getting what she wants when she’s worked so hard for it. But none of those excuses are actually presented on screen. 

Cassandra doesn’t fight against the class system. If she did she would be fighting for everyone. She’d be singing about everyone’s problems not just her own. 

Cassandra’s past abuse is just slapped on at the last minute and then disregarded when convenient. It doesn’t actually factor into the decisions she makes later on.  

Also, you don’t deserve anything just because you ‘work hard’ nor because you just really, really want it. 

It’s that point that I really take issue with. 

On the surface Cassandra should be the most relatable person in the show. I mean what young adult or teen living in this post apocalyptic nightmare of a capitalist dystopia not ever felt disappointed over not getting the job they wanted or not being given enough positive validation while crushed underneath mounting unrealistic expectations. It’s the main reason why so many of her supporters are teenagers and LGBT+. 

But all of those worries stem from something deeper than just a lack of positive reinforcement. 

You know why I had to give up on my career as an animator?

It didn’t pay benefits. 

I had medical issues and needed health insurance, but since most animation is commissioned and/or contract based, particularly if you live/work on the east coast, then you’re not going to get that most of the time. And this is after spending the majority of my time in college homeless, living out of my car, crashing on friends and families couches. I did this for three fucking years because I didn’t want to wind up in a textile mill or a carpet factory like everyone I else knew growing up, and I was told my whole life that if I went to school and worked hard enough I could have a well paying job that I enjoyed and got me away from my abusive home life. 

People like me, we’re bitter over not getting the jobs we wanted or the support we needed, not because we believe we’re special and therefore deserve it or some such bullshit, but because our very lives are dependent upon it! We’re victims of a class system that lets you starve if you don't find work. Where you’ll be trapped in abusive situations cause you can’t afford a home on your own. Where simply being yourself can be dangerous as there are people who vocally want to deny us rights and even kill us. 

Cass is an entitled whiny brat in canon because she doesn’t have any of those underlying issues. She doesn’t face real discrimination, oppression, poverty, or the looming threat of death hanging over her. She’s just throwing a temper tantrum. 

Once Again Adira is Saving Your Butt Cass

Adira is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters in the marathon. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate her more when I first watched the show. 

Also, I’m Sorry I Didn’t Recognize the Awesomeness That Is Hector Until Now Either.

Like this is a good conflict. They both have legitimate reasons for what they do. They’re both in the right here. That’s what makes them interesting. 

They’re both fighting for something. They’re home and the belief that they can fix things, vs the fate of the world and their loyalty to both the cause and their family. All on top of having their own relationship issues. 

Hector so should have been the main villain of season two, because he just has the most reason to be opposed to the mains’ goal. 

That’s more than whatever Cass and Raps are fighting about. The only thing at stake there is their friendship, which isn’t that big of deal when you compare it to the lives and safety of billions of people. 

Plus Hector’s just flat out entertaining. 

Why is Everybody Just Standing Around Doing Nothing Here?

Fucking do something you lugnuts!!!

You’re all capable fighters. You’ve all taken down much harder enemies than one lone guy and two bearcats. Why aren’t you helping Cass fight back? Or heck, if you wanted Cass to face Hector alone then have her be a distraction so that the others can escape. Anything but having them just stand there and be useless!

Yet Again I Have to Ask Why Should Cass Care? 

Or rather why should the audience care? 

Cass isn’t a lady in waiting just because some random jerk who's already taunting her and trying to kick her ass calls her such. Hector’s not from Corona and has no knowledge of Cassandra’s life beyond what he may have heard repeated by Adiria (who is also not from Corona) or what Cass herself said in her very metaphorical song.  Nor does either them have a say in how Cass’s career goes. 

If you want to push the narrative that Cass is still a lady-in-waiting and a maid, despite having earned Cap’s approval and being appointed by the king to guard Rapunzel, then you damn well need to establish that among the mains. 

Or you know, stop trying to go back on what you’ve set up in season one. 

So How Is This Suppose To Work?

So from the backstory that we get on both the Tree and Zhan Tiri herself, this shouldn’t happen. Like Zhan Tiri is currently trapped in another dimension and according to season three she has no possession powers herself. 

Now the tree itself is said to be sentient and that Zhan Tiri took control of it, but how? How is a tree sentient? Why is it sentient? How did Zhan Tiri bend it to her will? Why is it still under her control while she’s been trapped in another dimension for hundreds of years? Why and how does the spear keep it dormant? Why does the tree itself have possession powers when Zhan Tiri has none? Is there any connection between this Great Tree and the cursed tree that was suppose to free Zhan Tiri back in Painter’s Block? If so then why are these things never brought back into play during season three? 

Give me answers damn it! 

Now This is a Good Conflit, Shame It’s Never Resolved 

Both have valid reasons to do what they do. Both are neither right nor wrong. Both however wind up getting in the way of each other because neither will listen or trust the other. 

Rapunzel thinks that this will stop Hector, and she is right it does, but more importantly she chooses this route because it gives everyone else a chance to run away. The problem is that she can’t control it, but from her point of view that’ll only put her and Hector at risk if everyone else will just do as she says and leaves. 

Cassandra thinks the spear will stop it because it’s done so before, and that’s a logical assumption. It also means that Rapunzel herself won’t be in any danger, though the others might. Cass can’t free everyone at once like Rapunzel can. It’ll also be a threat to herself, and there’s the risk that tree will stop her before she can deal the final blow.  

So what’s happening on a personal level is that Rapunzel thinks taking charge means that everyone needs to follow her say without question. Cassandra thinks Rapunzel should listen to her more, not because Rapunzel needs to listen better in general, but because she doesn’t feel Rapunzel is mature enough to make big decisions and that she herself should be in charge of the group. Both girls feel superior to the other and above other people as well, because they’re convinced they’re always right. 

Had this been the actual conflict that they went with in season three, had they actually had both characters held accountable for their actions and learn something, and hadn’t dragged innocent people into their bullshit with so much as a ‘by your leave’ or ‘I’m sorry’; then this might have been a decent story. Perhaps not as impactful as Varian’s, but still meaningful, thoughtful, and well, coherent. 

But that’s not what they did, and we’ll see no real resolution to this disagreement. 

So Why Is No One Affected By the Hurt Incantation This Time?

Eugene here was injured by the tree earlier, that’s why he’s past out, but everyone else remains unharmed by Rapunzel’s singing. Even though just last episode everyone around her were dying from it, and again in the season finale everyone dies from said incantation. But here and in Rapunzel’s Return, Rapunzel can use the incantation without harming anyone nearby so, how does that work? 

Some people have suggested that when Rapunzel focuses her hair on a target like the tree here or the amber later, that it doesn’t spread to other people, but that’s never stated on screen so it’s still a flaw. 

 Well This Goes Nowhere 

I think the writers just like throwing in shocking ‘twists’ and moments like this just for the sake of looking edgy and ‘deep’ but then they never actually follow through on the impact of such moments on the characters nor consider the more troubling implications of including them. 

I grew up on Gargoyles, Batman the Animated Series, the 90s X-Men Cartoon, and The Pirates of Dark Water. I’ve seen far more shocking and edgy stuff than this when I was six years old. In many ways the american animated tv landscape has regressed since the early 2000s when it comes to more mature cartoons, and no that’s not a complaint about modern cartoons being bad; some are good some are bad, just like its always been; but that culturally we’ve shied away more from darker moments like this and we’ve having to push for them all over again in media.   

But the difference between Tangled and those 90s cartoons I’ve mentioned is that Tangled’s darker moments are misplaced. It clashes horribly with the more comedic route that the series usually takes and as such they don’t get the focus that they need too. 

After season two is done, Cass’s hand will never be mentioned again. It does not tie into her later motivations at all nor influences her actions. Throughout the series she’ll be able to use it easily without consequence. We don't even get any on screen confirmation if it’s healed by grabbing the moonstone, by the sundrop incarnation in the finale, or if she just forever has a burnt arm. That’s how little importance it is to the story. 

This Also Goes Nowhere

Hector calls out this warning but it’s then never followed up on. Adira is proven not to be a liar at all and nobody in the group is actually doomed. Yes the wider world is put in jeopardy, but that’s Cass’s fault not Adira’s. 

The writers were too focused on making Adira the red herring for Cassandra that they forgot to make her an actual person, with wants, feelings, desires, goals, and a life beyond her mission. She’s never shown helping her family and barely interacts with them, she’s never given a reason for why she keeps disappearing, and the idea that she’s doing this to save her home is just supposition on my part because otherwise she has no reason. The series never gives us one. 

And ‘Destiny’ Is Not A Fucking Reason!!!

Oh, So Adira Will Help Hector But Not Quirin or Varian?

If Hector and Adira consider each other siblings because they’re both in the Brotherhood, than logically Adira would consider Quirin her brother as well, and Varian would be her nephew. 

She was around long enough to see the final battle in SotSD. That’s why she appears at the end of that episode, how she knows Rapunzel is the sundrop and has ‘seen her power’, and how she knows that the group has met both Quirin and Varian before now. 

She knows that Quirin is trapped in amber. She knows her nephew has been arrested by a kingdom with a poor track record of punishing orphaned teens and poor people with overly harsh sentences. So why didn't she do anything there? 

We find out during season three that the black rocks can cut through the amber, and its established that Adira’s sword can cut through the rocks, so clearly she didn’t even try to save Quirin has just given him up for dead. But there’s no reason why she couldn’t have broken Varian out of the prison and taken her with him. 

In fact Adira hiding Varian from the rest of the group during season two would have been an actual reason for her disappearance and an actual reason not to trust her. That would have upped the stakes and given Cass reasons for what she does. Plus more time for Varian’s redemption, more chances to call out Rapunzel and Fredric on their BS, and ties seasons one and two together better. 

Seriously leaving Varian out of season two was the dumbest decision in television. Putting Varian back in actually fixes everything in the show. 

The Real Reason for the Burnt Hand is a Costume Change for Cass

I don’t know if she even got merchandise for this costume.   

Conclusion 

Much like season one’s arc episodes, The Great Tree held a lot of promise that was then completely wasted by season three. It’s also one of the very few episodes in the season to have actual stakes and conflict so it easily jumps to the top of the pile. But what it sets up is then never resolved or expounded upon, making it a waste. 

Next up we’ll have the mid season recap. 

[izaswritings]

Title: Faults of the Mind

Synopsis:  Having escaped the perils of the Dark Kingdom, Rapunzel finally returns home—but all is not well in the Kingdom of Corona, and the black rocks are quickly becoming the least of her troubles. Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, Varian struggles with new powers and his own conscience.

The labyrinth has fallen into rubble. A great evil stirs in the world beyond. The Dark Kingdom may be behind them, but the true journey is just beginning—and neither Rapunzel nor Varian can survive it on their own.

Warnings for: blood, violence, and death (NOT any of main characters), injury, some cursing, references to past character injuries, PTSD symptoms and the lingering effects of trauma. If there’s anything you think I missed, please let me know and I’ll add it on here.

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AO3 version is here.

Arc I: Labyrinths of the Heart can be found here!

Previous chapters are here.

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Chapter III: The Puppet

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As the stranger danced to silence, the Sun opened her mouth and began to sing.

It was a song unlike any other, a melody created on a whim for this lovely woman and her lonely dance. For a single moment the song hung in the wind as the woman twirled upon the seas; for a single moment they were in harmony, and all the world held its breath at the sight.

Then the stranger realized what had happened, and froze upon the raging waters. At last, for the first time, she saw the Sun. Her dance stilled; the song, too, fell silent. In an instant their eyes met.

The Sun reacted first, an apology rising to her lips—but it was too late. The stranger, frightened by her audience and her heart moved by the beautiful song she had so briefly witnessed, was overwhelmed and fled. The Sun reached out and cried for the stranger to stop, but already the woman had vanished away into the dark, gone as if she had never been.

And so it was that the beautiful Sun met the lovely Moon, and chased her away…

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For the second time in under a day, Varian makes his way through the fields back to Port Caul.

It’s early, still, and the whole world reflects it: dew and frost weighing heavy on the long grass of the fields, the sky bright with the pale colors of sunrise. The clouds above, wispy and thin, are lined with a delicate gold; the breeze still carries the heavy chill of the midnight ice. Despite the misty night, the ground is frozen solid from frost. With each step, the iced greenery crunches underneath his worn boots.

Still struggling to wake up, Varian pulls the collar of his coat closer and shivers. The fields outside of Port Caul are endless and sprawling, and in the light of the rising dawn, near breathtaking. The far-off silhouette of the city is gilded by the sunrise, the blue buildings shining soft with a pearly glow in the creeping dawn. Despite the bite of cold and the frosted edges, there is something soft about it all—a winter tempered by coming spring, ice thawed to a chill, something brisk and fresh and clean.

It doesn’t make it any less fucking cold, though.

They must make quite a sight, the two of them, to any strangers who see them: the woman, Yasmin, older and stern, with short dark curls and a confident stride—and a boy, Varian himself, tripping behind her, ragged and worn and trying desperately to keep up.

“How much farther?”

To say Varian is exhausted is a gross understatement. He is bone-cold tired. Numb to the world. A walking dead in the making. His late night has done him no favors, and this long walk back through the twists and turns of Port Caul’s farmlands drains what little remaining energy he has. His mouth is dry and sickly, his head stuffed with cotton, his limbs heavy and shaking with fever chills. The winter sun burns down on the back of his neck, the sunshine bright and as piercing as ice. Before him the wide expanse of the world unfurls at his feet, the fields of the Port Caul countryside near infinite to his eyes. Every time he looks to the horizon, to that distant shadow of the city proper, he feels even more tired than before.

Farther ahead, Yasmin walks with sure strides, making a confident pace through the overgrown paths. Despite her age and small size, she is damnably spry. Varian, still lagging behind despite all his best efforts, squints blankly in the sun and hurries to keep up. It’s ridiculous. He’s barely a head shorter than her, so how does she keep getting so far ahead?

“Hello?” he tries, when she doesn’t answer right away. The exhaustion frays his already thin temper; his fatigue makes him bold. “…Are you ignoring me?” he asks, and frowns as he says it. He’s not sure whether to be annoyed at that or not.

Yasmin, still a few paces ahead, heaves a very pointed and visible sigh.

“We’ve been walking for hours,” Varian points out, refusing to be cowed. He’s tired, she’s a jerk, and he does not care about what she thinks of him. Not at all. Nope. He’ll be as rude and spiteful as he wants to be, damn it. “Seriously, how much farther?”

Yasmin gives another heavy sigh. “Until we reach the city.”

“…Seriously?”

“What, was that not funny? I thought moody teenagers were all about sarcasm.” Yasmin stamps the ground with her foot, crushing stray grasses flat. She doesn’t even bother looking back at him. “We will get there when we get there, boy, now stop asking and start walking. Bah, these roads are awful…”

Varian gives the distant horizon a desperate look. It is so far. “Why couldn’t we take a cart?”

“Because I do not own one, clearly.” Yasmin shakes her head. “Walking is good for you.”

“You sound like Adira.”

“Vexing though she may be at times, she is, unfortunately, also often right.” Yasmin pinches at the brow of her nose. “…We will reach the city in another half-hour or so, if we make good pace. May you cease pestering me now?”

Considering the fact they’ve already been walking for about two hours, Varian thinks he deserves to be put-out by that—but he bites back the rude comment rising on his tongue before it can slip free, and takes a moment to breathe. She’s awful, but he’s better than this—or, well, he’s trying to be—so Varian settles for a dark scowl at her back, instead.

Still. He is so bored with walking. He turns his scowl to the ground and kicks a pebble on the road with all his might, smacking it with all the anger and force he can muster. The pebble rolls three measly times and then gets caught in the grass. It’s barely moved an inch.

Typical.

Varian scowls harder.

He misses Ruddiger. He wishes he’d thought to run up and wake the raccoon before he left, but the rapid exit and Yasmin’s swiftly retreating figure had panicked him, and he hadn’t realized he’d left alone until they were already ten minutes down the road. Now Varian is stuck here with a stranger he doesn’t know and doesn’t like—with no raccoon to keep him company.

The day has only just started, and Varian is already certain it’s going to be a miserable one.

Which sucks, because it’s looking to be a lovely day—not a glimpse of clouds on the horizon, a day so blinding and bright it nearly hurts to look at. The sheer shine of the morning is so intense he almost expects a summer heat to match it, but in contrast the wind blows cold, bitingly numb against his exposed face. The grasses sway and bend in the breeze, the fields awash in dark green and winter blue, frost scalding the pebbled wagon road.

In any other circumstance, probably, the view would be beautiful. But Varian’s head is aching and his eyes are sore from lack of sleep, and so instead of appreciating the sight he rubs his bare hands together and shoves them in his sleeves, and thinks only of how goddamn grateful he is that he didn’t forget his coat, too, along with his raccoon.

“Chin up, boy,” says Yasmin, at his silence. “We will be there before you know it.”

Varian directs his bleary frown to her back.  Easy for her to say. She barely looks bothered by the cold at all—is it that she’s used to it, Varian wonders, or is it that she’s just pretending to be unaffected to annoy him more? He… really wouldn’t put it past her.

Still, though, Varian knows better to speak those thoughts out loud. “Why are we even going to the market?” he asks, instead, curious despite himself. “And why do I have to be there?”

Yasmin doesn’t answer right away. Like Varian, she is dressed for the cold, in a long trench coat buttoned up to her neck and a heavy dress lined with fur; she tucks her hands in her sleeves and takes a moment to fuss over the fabric. “That is a rather layered question. I am not sure where to start. Let us say… Adira has somehow convinced me to help. Doubtless this is not what she meant, but she is paying me to do my job, not to listen to her. My help takes many forms. For Adira, it is information. For you?” She shrugs. “Market.”

“I don’t need help,” Varian snaps.

“Nonsense child. Who on earth taught you that silly lie? Everyone needs help. Do not take it personally—I still do not like you. This is not pity, or whatever your knotted mind has conspired. This is simply what I do. If it helps, you may consider my help as part of my job to you.”

…Varian doesn’t even know where to begin responding to that. “That’s…” He throws up his hands. “That doesn’t make sense! What even is your job?”

He gets another side-eye for that one. Yasmin scowls at him, her eyebrows drawn low and twisted. “…Let me guess. Adira did not mention that either?”

He stares at her. “No.” Obviously.

“Bah, of course she didn’t. Why do I bother?” Yasmin slows a bit, letting Varian catch up, and glances down at him. “I am… I am not sure how to explain this. I suppose I am something of a dealer of information, and of rare goods. I know many things, and can find a great many more things, and for the right prices I can be encouraged to share them.”

Varian frowns at her, mind whirling. “Like, an information broker? Or a spy?”

“Hm. You make it sound so ill-advised. But yes, both, that is about right.”

“…Isn’t that illegal?”

Yasmin blinks at him, slow and deliberate. “Yes,” she says. “But so says the wanted criminal.”

Varian turns red, and for a moment he thinks to argue—it’s not like he actively chose to become a criminal—except, well, maybe, yes he had, but…

He gives up. There’s nothing he can truly say against that, though he thinks he is starting to understand Yasmin a little better now. He doesn’t know much about spies or information dealers, just that they exist, but he imagines they tend to be pretty secretive. And if Varian really is a known wanted criminal to the rest of the world…

He turns his head away, not wanting to follow that train of thought any longer. “Is Ella, too—?”

“No.” Yasmin’s voice is curt and cold, shutting down the question before he can finish. “Ella is… she is not involved in my work, though she knows of it. She is a singer, actually. Perfectly legal.” For the first time, something of a smile touches her lips. “My dear wife can hold quite the tune.”

Well, okay. But something she’s said stands out to him. Varian frowns. “How do you know Adira, then?”

“Boy, for Moon’s sake. You have traveled with her for months. What about that woman makes you think she cares one lick for legality?”

Varian briefly flashes back to the last six months. Jumping carts, breaking into caravans, sneaking into cities guarded by soldiers who weren’t convinced by Adira’s sheer force of authority… yeah, no, stupid question. “Is that how you met her? Breaking the law?”

Yasmin snorts. “Nothing so grand. I met Adira through other circumstances.”

“What other circumstances?”

“Tsk. Question after question with you, isn’t it? Yet rarely any answers in return. This is why I despise scientists.” She rolls back her arm, an absent-minded stretch. “It is none of your business, frankly.”

His head drops. “I was just curious,” Varian mumbles, and at his side, his fists clench. He feels a little shamed. It probably was too rude a question, but—this is more than Adira has ever told him. For all of Yasmin’s prickly answers, they are answers.

Yasmin is quiet for a long moment. Then she mutters something, the words too low for Varian to catch, and raises her voice for him to hear. “We were… Adira and I came from a similar place, you could say. Running from the same thing. I always thought her plans foolish, but… well. What are friends for, if not to encourage foolish ideas?” Yasmin glances away. “Though I am beginning to regret that. I have been too accommodating, I think. But that is how I know her. I find her whatever strange item or legend she needs, and in return she keeps me updated on the comings-and-goings of whatever country she’s tromped through this time.”

“Oh.” Varian’s mind whirls, putting together the slim pieces he’d eavesdropped from Adira’s conversation with Yasmin just last night. Their talk of a kingdom… Adira’s frustration. Yasmin, her voice low, to Adira: The kingdom died twenty years ago for me and Ella, though I see for you the death is recent.

He’d known Adira was from the Dark Kingdom—it wasn’t exactly hard to guess, what with that stupid symbol on her hand and all—but for the first time, Varian looks at Yasmin and tries to imagine her there too. Yasmin, and Ella, and their little house in the fields… he thinks of the labyrinth, and the ruins he and Rapunzel found in the depths, and still cannot fathom it. Even for someone as prickly as Yasmin or Adira, it’s hard to picture anyone once calling such a desolate place home.

Unaware of his thoughts, Yasmin’s voice lowers to a mutter. “Of course, this arrangement works much better when she bothers to stay in touch. A little head’s up, a small warning, hello, Yasmin, sorry for the year-long absence, just letting you know I am not dead, and also I am forever grateful for your friendship and the many favors you do for me—” She cuts herself off and clicks her tongue. “Ah, never mind. But that is how it goes. In the end you are just another odd job she has thrown my way.”

Varian hums, distant, and the conversation drops into silence. He lowers his eyes and watches his feet, step after step after step. It’s easier than looking at the horizon. The sheer distance to the city is just starting to depress him.

“…That reminds me, actually,” Yasmin says, apropos of nothing. “I forgot to ask her, and Adira did not mention it—did she say anything to you about a flute, boy?”

Varian looks up, his face scrunching in confusion. “Um… what?”

“A flute.” Yasmin gestures, miming an object far longer than any instrument has a right to be. “Grand old thing, carved from amber, looks quite pretty in sunlight? Lovely music, curved a bit like a hook, so big it is frankly ridiculous? Loaded with religious importance? Took me months to find and secure? Yes? No?”

Varian stares at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he admits.

Yasmin’s lips thin. “I see.”

There is a beat of silence.

“If that woman has left my priceless religious artifact in that goddamn kingdom, I am going to strangle her with her sash,” says Yasmin, thoughtfully, and then she turns back around and marches on down the road without another word.

Varian hurries to catch up. Despite himself, and despite the wariness Yasmin still inspires, he finds his lips almost twitching in a smile, a vague sense of relief. It’s good to know he’s not the only one Adira drives bonkers.

…He’s probably being a bit unfair to her, Varian thinks, with sudden flash of guilt. Adira isn’t that bad. She… she has helped him, in a way. Maybe not the way Varian wanted, or the way he expected, but she has. She’s tried to teach him fighting. She’s kept him clothed and fed and moving in these past six months. He thinks he should maybe thank her, at least for that. As frustrated as he is, Varian is—here. He’s here.

That simple fact means more, now, than it ever did before. After the labyrinth, Varian hadn’t… he hadn’t known what to do. Where to go. What next, or where to now, or even if he wanted that. He’d been free, but he’d been lost, too—and maybe Adira hasn’t given him the direction he wanted, but she has at least gotten him moving.

Varian’s smile fades at this thought. He looks down at his feet, throat suddenly tight. He remembers the way he snapped at Adira, barely a day ago, and squeezes his eyes shut. A headache pulses behind his temple. He—he should apologize, probably. Maybe. He doesn’t think he can, now, but maybe later… maybe if she apologizes first…

His thoughts drift. The wind picks up, a chill striking through him. Varian shivers under the layers of his coat and yawns into his elbow. He feels tired, worn, too aware for the exhaustion dragging at his bones—like the wind itself is all eyes, watching and waiting, boring into the back of his skull.

One step, then another, then again. The wind howls in his ears. The shadows stretch and warp in the sunlight. His heartbeat feels very loud, all of a sudden—like the droning thud of the drums of war, pounding like marching feet against his skull.

All at once, a sudden dread overcomes him. A chill that strikes down to his bones. Each step sends his stomach plummeting. His ears ring. He feels as if ice has been dumped down his back, and his breathing has gone shallow. His heartbeat is rapid-fire, faster than a bird’s.

Don’t go.

He steps toward the city. He moves through the fields. He walks.

Don’t go there.

His mouth is dry. His vision swims. With each step, his heart beats out of tune. Varian looks up in the direction of Port Caul, and thinks, for one blinding moment of clarity: You don’t want to be here.

“Are you alright?”

He startles, near-jumping out of his skin. Yasmin is frowning at him. She stands silhouetted against the sunrise, the shadows cast long and deep across her face. Her brow is furrowed. She is looking down at his right hand.

Varian follows her gaze. His hand is—he’s holding it, he realizes, he’s gripping it tight in a vice, his thumb digging into the soft flesh of his palm as if to burrow beneath the skin. It hurts. It hurts with a dull, solid ache, like pressing on a bruise.

As soon as he realizes this, Varian snaps his hand away. His veins feel tight and cold, stone under his skin. He blinks fast. “W-what?”

“Does your hand hurt?” Yasmin almost looks concerned, in her own irritated way. “This is the second time I have seen you do that. Is that why you cannot sleep?’

“That’s—I—I don’t know.” He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Varian hunches under the attention, and hides his hand behind his back. But even as he does it, his skin crawls, his right palm itching terribly. He has to fight not to claw at his skin. “How did you—wait, why does it matter if I can’t sleep?”

In the distance, the city looms closer than before—they are practically upon the city gates. The wall towers over him, a cold shadow, and beside them a horse and cart rumbles by through the wrought iron gates. The road, beneath his feet, has turned from soft crushed grass to actual paved stone. Varian’s head spins. How long had he blanked out for?

Yasmin scans him up and down, her brow knotted. “That is why we are here, of course,” she says, at last, looking a little reluctant at the shift in subject. “You said to me this morning you have issues with sleep, and I have little remedies for such in my house… so to the market we go.” Her lips press—but then she seems to let it go, shaking her head with a weary breath. “Well. If not an injury, then what is it? Can you not fall asleep, or is it that you cannot stay asleep?”

Varian scowls at the dirt path and stubbornly does not think of dark hallways and darker rooms, the moonlight streaming through the window. “Why does it matter?”

“I have agreed to help you, but I cannot help if I do not know what is wrong.” Yasmin is scowling, but it is a distant thing, not directed at him. She looks vaguely frustrated. “I do not like you, I have made no secret of it; you dislike me too, and you have made no secret of that, either. This is fine. We do not have to like each other. But I have tried to be honest with you, thus far—so please, do me the favor of being honest with me.”

She is frank, she is annoying, she is a bladed voice and angry words—but she has told him more in one conversation than Adira has in months. And it is this honesty that makes Varian duck his head, but it is this truth that finally makes him admit it: for all that he dislikes her, Varian is terrified of the idea of continuing to face the dark alone.

Still. It is so hard to admit it, to put voice to the fears inside him. His words come out a teeth-clenched whisper. “It’s—it’s just—” He doesn’t know how to say it. “It’s just too dark.”

It’s shameful, almost. Childish, certainly. Varian is afraid of many things, but the dark, oddly, has never been one of them. He has always felt so secure in the science of the world that the monsters of myth had been dismissed as easy as breathing. And he still feels that certainty. He still feels utterly secure in the fact there is nothing in the closet, nothing under the bed. It’s just—

It’s just too dark, now.

It’s just too much.

“I see,” Yasmin says. Her voice is quiet too. Another cart rumbles by them, the creak of the wheels almost deafening in the silence. The murmur of voices and the rasp of the sea breeze drifts in from the city gates. Varian looks away from Yasmin and up at the gate, and shivers in the shadow. The whisper comes back to him again. Turn back. Go away. It’s not safe here.

“I see,” Yasmin repeats, and her voice breaks Varian from the spell. “Well then. Just to be sure—you are an alchemist, yes?”

Varian lifts his head, blinking echoes from his eyes. “U-um, yeah.”

“I do not own any alchemical equipment, but I have enough bobbles to get you by, I think, if you choose your ingredients wisely.” She turns to the gates and Varian follows, reluctant, as she pushes through the iron doors. “Come along, boy. In the end it may do little, but if darkness is your issue… then I recommend building yourself a light.”

.

Eugene leaves the castle that night.

His reasoning is simple: there’s no real reason to delay. Eugene has no desire to draw out this parting any longer than he has to. With his goodbyes to Rapunzel said and her letter weighing heavy in his vest pocket, Eugene returns to his allotted rooms and picks up the travel bags he hadn’t even bothered to unpack. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, but it’s best to be prepared.

That isn’t to say he rushes, oh no—Eugene takes his sweet time. It’s almost like planning a heist, in that way. The devil is always in the details, and Eugene considers details to be the most important step. Missing one crucial item in a theft can be deadly, and in a way, well… this isn’t all that different.

The preparations take him the rest of the day. In the hours following his talk with Rapunzel, Eugene repacks his bags and prepares to leave the castle behind. He chooses new clothes, picks up fresher food, slips in a few items he thinks will serve as a welcome gift for Lance. He finds the daggers he’d stashed away when he first moved in and hides away the finer cloths that would get him mugged five feet out from the castle walls. He has a job to do, after all—and for all that Eugene isn’t the most serious individual, he is most certainly a professional. Either he does this right, or he does this not at all… and doing nothing is no longer an option.

By sunset, he’s all ready to go. Eugene hides his belongings in one of the castle’s many nooks and crannies, goes to bother Maximus in his own silent way of saying goodbye—and, when the daylight has faded and the shadows cover his path, slips inside the guard barracks and goes to find Cassandra.

He finds her in her room, thankfully—he’s not sure he could sneak by her new post in the dungeons without being caught, and he definitely doesn’t want to deal with that kind of drama right now. But his luck is holding true: he’s managed, from the sounds of things, to catch her right before she heads off for her post. Her door is half-open, the lock unlatched, and Eugene knocks on the wood frame with one hand as he toes the door open.

The room is as empty as his was; the evidence of an eight months absence. It’s cleaner than he’s ever seen it, no stray weapons lying about or anything, and her bed is made so well the cover corners look sharp enough to cut. For all that Cassandra served as a palace maid, and took her duties seriously, her own rooms are usually where she throws all tidiness out the window. This, more than the shadows under her eyes, tells Eugene all he needs to know. Apparently Rapunzel isn’t the only one with insomnia today. Cassandra probably hasn’t slept one wink since they got back yesterday morning.  

She looks it, too. He’s caught her in the middle of preparing for her shift, armor half-on and hair an absolute bird nest. She’s always been pale, but today the pallor is almost ghastly, the shadows of her eyes rivaling even Varian’s. There’s a new scab on her lower lip, a wound never quite healed: she’s bit her lip hard enough to bleed.

Cassandra glances over at the open door, helmet in one hand like she’s trying to decide whether it’s worth trying to pry it over her bush of curls. It takes her a moment to realize he’s there, but as soon as she realizes her face twists in a scowl. Her glare is practically automatic, but whatever sting it might have held is dulled by the bloodless pall of her face.

“What do you want, Fitzherbert?”

Bad mood, then. The last name thing is always an indicator. Eugene’s lips thin. He’s not upset. He can’t even blame her. She looks…

She looks how he feels, really. What a mess. “Long day?”

Cassandra gives him a dirty look for that. Eugene winces. “Yeah, okay. Too soon?”

She throws the helmet on her bed, looking about to snap… and then sighs, her shoulders slumping. Her eyes squeeze shut. In the darkening sunset light streaming through her narrow window, the shadows under her eyes seem bright as bruises. “Sorry.”

Eugene snorts and leans back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s fine. You realize I’ve dealt with your prickly temper before, right?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Oh, ha-ha.” She rubs at her face and turns away, sitting down hard on the bed. “Still, sorry. I’m not… I just…” She shakes her head, her teeth gritting.

Eugene can only imagine. Demoted to prison duty, after once having been the top detail of the future Queen? It’s more than a slap on the wrist—it’s a bona fide royal punishment, and it’s going to give her a bad rep, too. And that would be bad enough, perhaps, but that she’s being punished because of the situation with Varian…?

Yeah. Yeah, no. There’s no good ending to that story.

They haven’t talked about Varian, really. They’ve barely said his name at all these past few months, beyond the whys and hows of his disappearance after the labyrinth. There is an understanding between all three of them—a looming fight that Eugene can almost taste in the air whenever the topic is broached, and all three of them have been ignoring the problem of Varian entirely rather than risk the argument it might spike. So while Eugene can’t say he knows how Cassandra feels about Varian… well.

He has a pretty good guess that it’s nothing good.

He doesn’t blame her; some days, Eugene feels much the same himself. His nightmares have come and gone these past few months, ebbing and rising like a tide, but though most are filled with dark stone and the knife-like smile of a terrible god, some are older still. A campfire, halfway burning. Arrows in firelight. The way Rapunzel fell back, the sound of her skull snapping against the stone, and most awful of all: that brief, terrible moment when he thought she’d never get up again.

He knows Cassandra dreams of much the same.

“It’s a bad situation,” Eugene settles on, finally. “As expected.”

“Being right about it doesn’t make it better, Eugene.”

“Uh, yeah, no. Yep. Bullseye on that.”  He sags his weight against the doorway, heaving a sigh so heavy it makes his body sink with the sound. He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, by gods, I sure didn’t miss this. Politics! Hah!”

The briefest hint of a smile curls at Cassandra’s mouth, almost reluctant. “Oh? And here I thought you liked the idea of being king.”

“Yeeeeeah, about that. Sneaky.” He points a warning finger at her. King, hah. It’d been Lance who’d finally told him how succession worked in Corona. Rapunzel gets crowned Queen—and Eugene, marrying into the family, would not be a king, but rather a Prince Consort. Which is a fine fancy title in its own right, but still. “When were you going to tell me that isn’t how it works?”

“When it was funny.”

“Oh-hoh! Fuck you.”

That pale smile flickers to a true grin. Eugene leans back against the door again, pleased with his work. “But seriously,” he says, humor fading to sincerity. “Things may seem like a shitshow now, but… It’ll blow over. Eventually.”

The grin fades. Cassandra looks away. “Sure.”

“Still sucks, though.”

She exhales hard, pointedly. “Eugene. Why are you here?”

This time it’s Eugene who looks away. He taps his fingers against his arm, the uneven rhythm of a bar song that’s been stuck in his head since winter began. His lips press in a thin line. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then pushes up against the doorway, bracing himself.

Well. No more stalling it, he supposes.

“I’m leaving.”

He senses rather than sees Cassandra go still. “...What?”

“I didn’t come here to get lectured,” he warns her, straightening up, finally meeting her eyes. She looks as furious as he expected. “I already told Blondie. I’m heading out tonight. If you need to get in touch, the Snuggly Duckling is your best bet.” He hesitates, then exhales heavy through his teeth. “Look, I—I get it. I know what you’re going to say. But I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I… I need to do this.”

“We just got back.” Cassandra’s voice is low. “Just got back, and with things as they are— and I can’t even see her— and you’re leaving her alone?”

“I can’t help her here.” Eugene tries to keep the words even, accusation-free, but he can’t quite keep the coldness out of his voice. He knows this already. He knows, and it's already eating at him, and he doesn’t need Cassandra digging in the knife. “I can’t— I won’t sit here and be useless.” Not again, he thinks, but he bites that part off behind his teeth.

Cassandra scowls at the ground. Her expression has turned dark.

Eugene looks away too, hating the knot in his gut. He rubs at his chin and sighs, leaning back heavy against the doorframe. “Besides,” he says, finally, trying to keep his voice light. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that whole ‘no-contact’ clause part of the punishment. This is Rapunzel we’re talking about. I’d bet good money she’ll find a way to break out of that room and into here in about… oh, three days. Tops.”

“She shouldn’t.”

“Well. It’s Rapunzel.”

Cassandra hums at that, tuneless. She still isn’t meeting his eyes.

Eugene holds back another sigh and shakes his head, dipping one hand in his pocket. “...I didn’t just come to say goodbye, either.” He draws Rapunzel’s letter from his vest, holding it out. “For you.”

She goes to take it, but Eugene pulls it back out of reach. “Cass, before you read it—”

She glares at him.

“You don’t have to do this,” Eugene says, undeterred. “Not if you don’t want to. I know how much this job means to you.”

Something in the tone of his voice must get through, because her hand stills. She’s quiet for a long moment.

“…Will it help?”

He’s not sure how to answer that. “It’s something.”

“Then yes.” Cassandra meets his gaze, her expression tense. “I want to help.”

He thins his lips, but hands it over. He’s not sure what to make of the look on her face—the odd pinch to her eyes. Cassandra takes the missive warily, breaking the seal and scanning the page within seconds. Eugene watches her face, trying to put a name to what he sees there.

Cassandra’s expression doesn’t even twitch. After reading, she folds the letter carefully and lays it flat on her lap. With one hand, she rubs the corner of the parchment between her fingers, her eyes dark in thought.

“You understand, don’t you?” Eugene says finally. His voice is quiet. His eyes unwavering. A flash of clarity has struck him. “Standing aside, watching everything happen… I never want to be there again.”

At long last, Cassandra looks at him. She doesn’t move, but in this moment, he can finally read her. In this, he knows for sure. The labyrinth has left its mark on all of them, in its own way—and for the two of them, it has left the same scar. It has united them in the horror of being left behind and helpless.

Cassandra’s eyes drop. The anger has faded from her face—now, she just seems tired. “...I’ll look out for her.”

“She doesn’t need it, I think. But thanks. I hate the idea of leaving her alone.” Eugene straightens, waves one hand in a mocking salute. “Good luck,” he says, gentling into something genuine. “Cass.”

She meets his gaze again. A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth, and this time, it’s almost real. “You too, Eugene.”

Eugene gives a winning smile back and slips out the room without another word—no need to make this sappy, after all. He closes the door soundlessly behind him, and feels something almost like pleased. The conversation didn’t quite go as he wanted—but he thinks it was a success regardless.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and slips back in the comfort of the shadows.

It is child’s play to get back outdoors undetected. He picks up his bag from the hiding spot and slip it over his shoulder, tilting back his head in the night air. He’s got a long walk ahead of him—a long few weeks to go—and he takes one last second for himself, to settle, to be sure. Taking one last moment to breathe.

Oh, gods. Is he really going to do this?

He looks up behind him, one last look at Rapunzel’s tower room. The window is dark, all the lights gone out. But he can still see the silhouette of a figure on the balcony, the flickering shine of golden hair swept up in a breeze.

He lifts his hand, wondering, a quiet wave. He thinks he sees the figure wave back.

He already misses her. But Eugene turns away from the castle regardless. He slips by those castle gate guards without any issue at all, and just like that: there he is, on the road once again.

His heart is tight, but Eugene manages a smile anyway. Rapunzel will be okay. Cassandra, whatever she decides, will be there for her regardless. They have things handled here—and Eugene’s place, for now, is elsewhere.

He’s got work to do.

It takes him an hour to leave the city behind. By the time he reaches the woods it’s gone completely dark outside. The woods are all shadow at this time of dusk, foreboding and eerie, but Eugene palms his dagger and continues on without worry. Even without a sure light, the moon and stars are bright above him—and he’s always been an old hand at sneaking in the dark.

He walks for most of the night, well on to midnight. The time makes no difference, however—even at this hour, he can hear the Snuggly Duckling before he sees it. Laughter, and roaring music, and then distant light through the trees. Eugene shades his eyes against the startling shine and has to physically bite back a grin when he hears the singing. Oh-hoh, he knows that voice.

He rushes to reach the doors before it’s too late, moving fast as the song and music begin to reach its finale. He makes it just in time.

Eugene throws open the door just as Lance finishes a truly impressive solo, and lifts a hand to his ears with no time to spare. “Good gods, men!” he says, as loudly as he can. “I came here to get a drink—but who let a banshee in this place?”

The music stops. Someone’s cup drops and rolls. The Snuggly Duckling falls into a hushed and reverent silence, and Lance falls off the table.

Eugene stares at the stunned room of thugs. The stunned room of thugs stares back.

“...Surprise?”

Lance’s head pops up from the floor. “Eugene!” he shouts, delightedly, and tackles him in a hug.

Like Lance’s word was the stone to break the glass, the whole bar erupts into noise.

“Hey!”

“It’s Fitz!”

“Welcome back!”

“Where the hell have you been, you slippery bastard?”

Lance spins him around, cackling loudly. Eugene yelps, arms suddenly pinned, torn between laughing and hissing at him. “Hey, hey, hey—!”

“You’re back!” Lance drops him on his feet, beaming fit to burst. He looks—he looks good, Eugene realizes, and it makes some secret weight on his heart lift. It’s just been bad news after bad news for so long, that he’d worried… but Lance is here, his smile wide and true, and he looks happier than Eugene has seen him in a long time. He’s dressed in a new outfit, a snazzy black vest with a red cotton undershirt, a new piercing in his left ear. There’s a glow to him, a veil of health that speaks of regular meals and good care. In contrast to the gloom that haunted the castle, Lance’s presence lights up the room. His hand on Eugene’s shoulder is warm. “Long time no see, Eugene.”

“We’ve gone longer,” Eugene says, an automatic answer, but inside, he agrees whole-heartedly. It has been—too long. Far too long. His returning smile is helplessly fond. He is so glad to see Lance. “How are things?”

“Oh, booming,” Lance says, and he says it casual, but there’s a smile on his face that Eugene knows well— that beaming pride, curdled warm, but this time there’s something softer to the edge of it. “It’s, uh—going really well, actually. I meant to say in the letters, but—well, I got the bar!” He gestures to the Snuggly Duckling. “The whole lot of it.”

“Done good work too!” one man yells, and the tavern shakes with the ensuing roar of agreement. Lance laughs again, looking touched. Eugene looks around at the sea of bright and drink-rosy faces, the warm lanternlight and crackling fire of Lance’s Snuggly Duckling, and grins back.

“Lance!” he says, punching his shoulder. “Buddy! That’s wonderful!”

“It’s been a journey,” Lance says, trying for humble, but there’s a brightness to the words, a disbelieving joy that hasn’t quite faded. “I’ll tell you later. What about you, eh? It’s been ages since your last response!”

Eugene’s smile flickers. Lance immediately pauses. “Oh—”

“You’re never going to believe this, Strongbow, old buddy, old pal.” Eugene slings his arm around him, cutting off the inquiry before the rest of the bar can catch onto the shift in mood. “The number of things I saw across the sea, good man, I could fill a book!”

Lance blinks, rapidly, and for a moment his face is terrifyingly blank—and then his eyes go wide in realization. Thank gods. It’s been awhile since they used that code, but the memory of childhood bonding over Flynn Rider books reigns eternal even now.

Lance slings an arm around his shoulders and grips him in a one-armed hug. “Then I, Strongbow, shall most definitely help you write it!” The word-for-word quoted response. Then Lance winks, and the next bit is all him. “After a drink, of course.”

“Of course,” Eugene echoes, wryly, and manages to grin back.

Lance pushes him through the bar, somehow keeping Eugene from the crowd without making it suspicious, laughing and cheering and chattering like it’s a normal Tuesday. Before Eugene even knows what’s happened, he finds himself in a back room of the tavern, drink in hand and Lance sitting across the table, the room as quiet as any rooms in the Snuggly Duckling can get.

“This is as private as I can give you,” Lance says, sitting back in his chair. His smile is bright as ever. His voice, warm as Eugene remembers. But there is a tightness around his eyes, a worry Eugene reads clear as day, and when Lance leans in, he is as serious as he ever gets. “Okay, buddy. Spill. What happened? And how can I help?”

This is why Eugene came here. This is why Eugene needed to leave. Because he’s good. He’s really good. But he’s always been better with someone at his back—and he’s at his best with Lance by his side.

Gods, he’s missed him.

Eugene drinks deep from his flask, sets down the empty cup, and prepares to tell Lance everything.

.

“What do you need?”

The sun is high in the bright blue sky, and the Port Caul market in full unbridled swing. Stalls line the main city road, stretching on from the docks to the shopping district, their owners shouting wares from across the street. Vegetables, cheeses, smoked meats and cloth and flowers and trinkets—everywhere Varian turns, there is something new to see, some new dizzying sight to catch his eye. He’d thought the crowd from yesterday had been intimidating, but this one puts it to shame. The sheer amount of people and goods makes his head spin. This is nothing like the market in Old Corona—this is more like the capital than anything, or even the science fair. The amount of people out and about for a daily market is mind-blowing.

“Child, eyes on me.” Yasmin snaps her fingers in front of his face. Varian looks to her reluctantly, fighting the urge to keep gaping at his surroundings. “What do you need?”

“What?” Varian asks, too dazed to follow her questions. His eyes drift to the market again.

Yasmin frowns down at him. “Keep up, boy. For a light. What do you need?”

Oh. Varian blinks fast, thoughts muddled by the market, his own exhaustion, and the constant dread that is stillbeating away at the edge of his mind. He says the first thing he can think of. “Matches?”

Yasmin stares at him. Varian slowly flushes, scrambling to get his thoughts in order—nope, nothing. He tries again. “…Fire?”

“That was not a trick question. I meant—a more permanent light, a manufactured one. A nightlight. Something to help keep the dark at bay without being too bright to wake you.” Yasmin rubs at her forehead. “What do you need to make something like that?”

“Oh.” Well, that makes much more sense. Varian blinks hard, rubbing at his eyes, trying to get his thoughts in order. He feels like he’s wading in molasses, an exhaustion that drags at his thoughts and eyelids. A permanent light… something he could hold, maybe. Something bright enough to let him know he isn’t in the dark but quiet enough not to keep him awake. A soft glow. Unwavering…

“A vial, maybe?” Varian murmurs. “No, glass, breakable, bad idea. Stone… too opaque. Gem, too expensive—”

“Crystal?”

Varian blinks, startled from his thoughts. Yasmin is frowning again, but not at him—just off to the side, looking lost in thought. “Would that work?”

“I…” His mind whirls, thoughts tangling. “If it could hold something—was hollow inside—I think so? I need a space to put in the materials, and then I gotta seal it up after, so—”

“Yes, yes, let me handle that—I am not completely bereft of supplies. I am sure Ella has a jewelry clasp somewhere. We will figure something out.” Yasmin tilts her head. “What would you need to make the light?”

He lists ingredients in his head, remembers the likely lack of equipment, and shoves aside all but a few. Lists down his fingers. “Let’s see… um, distilled water, definitely. Probably some sodium carbonate, luminol… ammonium carbonate, copper sulfate pentahydrate… maybe some 3 percent hydrogen peroxide, or would just using zinc sulfide work better?” He frowns at his hands. “I should probably test that, the zinc sulfide might be too weak to last, but the other mixture might—”

Varian cuts himself off, his hand dropping. At once he realizes he’s been rambling. He flushes, his confidence faltering. There in the market cheer he feels abruptly out of place, too obvious, too seen. His skin crawls. He swallows hard. “Um. But I… I don’t think I’ll find all that here, it’s—”

“Do not worry,” Yasmin says, surprising him silent. She looks almost bemused by his sudden bit of word vomit. “Port Caul markets sell many things— and things like that for rather cheap. You would be surprised at how many children like to play at alchemy.”

Varian splutters. “It’s not playing—”

Yasmin has already turned away. Her coat flaps at her heels as she strides deeper in the market crowd. “Hurry along, boy. Let us go! I haven’t got all morning.”

Varian yelps and rushes to keep up.

It must be market day, he thinks; the place is busier than it was yesterday, and the crowd is nearly dizzying. People shouting, people selling, laughter high and bright in the frozen winter air. They’ve arrived early enough that the sun’s rising warmth hasn’t thawed the streets yet—the cobble roads are slick with frost and sea-spray salt, the wind brisk against his skin, the breeze as sharp as knives.

Varian tugs up his borrowed coat collar and follows Yasmin best he can, tripping in his too-big boots even with his layered number of socks. In contrast to Varian’s hesitation, Yasmin maneuvers the market like a king in court, eyes sharp and scanning, seeing all the market has to offer and dismissing it just as quickly.

“This way,” she says after a minute, and tugs Varian to the side, near a small stall off the corner. The covered wagon has a table with a velvet cloth, small glittering gems and jewels shining on the dark red fabric. The man minding the stall is tall and round, and when he sees Yasmin approaching he sits up with a smile.

“Yasmin! Been awhile. How’s it been?”

“Lovely, Marin, thank you. Have you any crystals?”

The man hums. “All sorts. What are you looking for?”

Yasmin puts a hand on her hip and turns to Varian. He stares back, blank, then jumps when the man looks at him too. “O-oh. Um.” Their eyes make his skin crawl. Yasmin has already recognized him for what he is. What if this man, too—? “A, a hollow… hollow center. If you have that. And, um… clear would be—be best—”

“Of course.” The man’s interruption is kind, his smile unsuspecting. He leans down and rummages at his feet, the clink of precious stones in the air. “I’ve a few like that. Take your pick.”

Varian surveys the offered collection of crystals, ranging in sizes from small to unwieldy, and finally selects one near the middle—not the cleanest cut, but a nice size, fitting well in his palm. It has a hollowed center like a shallow shot glass, the opening just barely big enough for a finger. Hopefully easy to seal closed, once he’s made the light. “T-this one’s fine.”

“Great. That’ll be five gold crowns, then.”

Varian freezes, color draining from his face. Five gold crowns? He doesn’t even have copper. Oh, gods, he’s forgotten money was a thing that existed again. “I—uh, I—”

“I have it.” Yasmin sets the gold down with a sharp click, the coins stacked in a perfect tower. “Take care of yourself, Marin.” To Varian: “Come along. Next stop.”

“Come back if you need any more!” the shopkeeper calls. “I’ll have a lot more next week, if those trading ships finally make it to harbor!”

“I will think about it!” Yasmin is walking away, but Varian doesn’t move, and after a moment she glances back at him, eyebrows raised. “Hello? What is wrong. Why are you not moving.”

He stares down at the ground, eyes burning. “I didn’t ask you to pay for me.”

Yasmin tilts her head. “I am the one helping you, and this is my idea. I would not make you pay for it. In a roundabout way, I am being paid to help you. There is no loss here.”

“I—”

He can’t find the words, the anger rootless, his frustration smarting. He is sick of feeling helpless, of feeling like a drain; he hasn’t asked to be taken care of, to be treated like a child. But he doesn’t yet know how to put it into words, and all he can do is glower at the ground and seethe.

Yasmin considers him. Something in the hard lines of her face softens.

“…Come here.”

He goes reluctantly, stepping out of earshot from the shopkeeper. Yasmin places a hand on his shoulder, steering him away, and when she speaks, her voice is not softer but somehow gentler. “Listen. I do not know what brought you here, nor do I care. But you are here. And it is clear to me that you need help.” She looks down at him. “Boy, you do not need to like me. I still do not like you. But I am not here to hurt you, or slight you, or whatever it is you think I am doing. My dislike does not mean I cannot do you a kindness.”

Varian doesn’t answer. Yasmin draws her hand away. “If it bothers you so deeply, you can plan to pay me back in your own time. But for now—can you accept this?”

He looks down. The anger, rising, turns ashy on his tongue, cold and empty. “…Okay.”

He sounds tuneless even to himself. In the back of his mind, the dread hums like a lightning strike. Turn back. Go home. It’s not safe here.

He swallows back the anxiety and shuts his eyes tight. He hears Yasmin exhale, soft and tired.

“Chin up, boy,” she says, half-way to gentle. “I am sure you will like this next part. Come along.”

Varian, doubtful, sets his jaw and bravely follows after her.

She leads him further into the market, closer to the docks. The scent of salt and sea fills his nose. The crowd is a little thinner here, easier to navigate, and the sudden breathing room helps unwind some of the tension from his shoulders. He tilts his head in the breeze and breathes deep.

It’s the smell that hits him first. The burning hiss, the sudden bitterness on his tongue like ash—

His eyes snap open. He sees it almost at once.

The small wooden stall. The bright pink banner. The small jars, the neat little labels. The smell in the air, even in this crowded and clustered market place, a sour snap like citric acid, like the tang of metal—

He knows the stall even before he sees the sign. This—this is an alchemy store.

Varian races ahead, pushing past Yasmin and nearly running right into the stall. It has been so, so long since Varian has seen alchemy, even longer since he’s done it properly. The road isn’t appropriate for intensive experiments, and Adira never willing to buy materials, and Varian never quite confident enough to ask for them. After six months of nearly nothing, the sight of the stall is enough to make his eyes prick with tears.

Even the memory of his last alchemy experiment can’t bring down his mood. In the labyrinth, this skill was the one thing that brought Varian some comfort. Some denial of fate, some way to fight. Through alchemy, Varian found a chance to breathe. Through alchemy, Varian defeated Moon’s golem.

And now, this alchemy stall—the sight of those elements, neatly bottled, the equipment, newly shined—it makes his vision blur. Varian’s smile nearly splits his face in half. He puts his hand on the table and leans up, beaming at the shopkeeper, a woman with a heavy afro pulled back in a bun and a no-nonsense alchemical smock. “Is this all yours!?”

“Every bottle of it.” The shopkeeper puts down a vial, a latest experiment of some sort. Her gloves, heavy and dark and made of solid stitched leather, make Varian’s own now-bare hands itch with envy. “Why, you interested?”

“Yes.”

She grins. “Well, then. Nice to see someone who appreciates the art! What are you looking for?”

“Something for a light, if you have got it.” Yasmin walks up from behind him, sounding bemused. “What was it? Zinc sulfate?”

“Sulfide,” Varian corrects, automatic. “Zinc sulfide, and also some distilled water, and I was thinking maybe…”

He lists the ingredients off from memory, counting them off his fingers to be sure he doesn’t forget any. “…and some 3 percent hydrogen peroxide, if you have any?”

“Easy enough.” The woman tugs off her gloves, nodding thoughtfully. “How much of each?”

Varian does quick math in his head—some extra needed if things go wrong, enough to make two batches if things go right—and rattles off the amounts in grams. The shopkeeper hums when he finishes, looking vaguely impressed. “Can do. It’ll be a blue-ish light, in the end—should last you a couple months before you’ll have to remake it.”

Varian abruptly pales. The shopkeeper blinks. “Is something wrong?”

Blue, Varian thinks numbly. Blue light. Right. He hadn’t thought of that. He struggles to answer. “Um—I—that is—”

Yasmin touches at his shoulder. Varian looks up at her, but Yasmin is speaking to the shopkeeper instead when she says, “Is it possible to change the color of the light?”

Something like pride smarts in his chest.

“Of course,” says the shopkeeper. “Easy,” Varian scoffs, pointedly, at the same exact time.

There is a beat of silence. Yasmin rolls her eyes. “Scientists,” she says, disgusted. “Would you need an ingredient for that?”

“Alchemists,” Varian corrects, annoyed, and then blinks as the rest of her words sink in. Oh, right. He turns back to the shopkeeper. “Do you have any pigments?”

“I have all the pigments. Could even mix a few powders, but you’ll have to be exact on the color if so.”

Varian bites his lip, considering. Yasmin looks down at him. “It need not be a difficult discussion,” she says. “The intended use already removes a few options. White, too bright; black, destroys the purpose of having a light at all. Red would be… garish, I think. Sort of bloody. Hmm. What about orange?”

He makes a face, unable to help it. Orange has never been his favorite color, and after the amber… “No.”

“Tsk. Green? Violet?”

Violet is too close to blue; green reminds him of the automatons beneath the castle, and what he did with them. Varian shakes his head.

“…Yellow?”

Golden shine and searing heat, the numbness broken apart by a light that burned as bright as a sun—

Some of his thoughts must show on his face. Yasmin stops herself before Varian can even think to interrupt. “Not yellow, either. Hmph.” She considers, cupping her chin in one hand. “…What about pink?”

Pink. Varian considers it. It’s a pale color, and a soft color, like they wanted. If he makes the glow very quiet it won’t hurt his eyes at all. And pink… there is nothing he associates with the color, no light-based trauma to invite nightmares. Pink is sunrise and sunset, soft flowers in spring fields. It’s a color that reminds him of happy things.

“…Pink would work.”

“Pink it is.”

The shopkeeper nods. “I’ll wrap it up.”

They get the ingredients wrapped in small paper bags, and as Yasmin counts out money for the cost Varian shuffles through the wrapped ingredients with a giddiness he’d almost forgotten. He feels renewed, refreshed, the ever-present exhaustion dulled by a joy that could almost burst out of him.

He tucks the packets away in the satchel and tilts his head into the wind with a soft sigh. His smile is a small thing, barely there—quiet and thin, hidden in the light of the winter sun. The market moves around him, warm and whispering. The noonday sun is melting the frost.

And it is then, in this moment, as the crowd swells silent and the market murmurs soft—that is when the screaming starts.

.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Cassandra closes her wardrobe hard, hearing the weapons knock around inside. It is three days after their return to Corona, and Cassandra’s patience is nearing its limit. Outside of her window, the setting sun burns gold at their backs, casting a long shadow across Cassandra’s entire room. “Yes, Raps. I already said I was.”

“I know. I just—”

“You worry. I know.” Cassandra takes a breath, holds back a sigh. She’s not annoyed. She’s not. She’s just—

Gods, she wishes Rapunzel could just let it go.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the gesture—to be honest, she’s fully expected this. Of course Rapunzel would come to check in on her, especially after the last few days. Eugene’s skipped out of the castle with a plan he hasn’t even told Cassandra about, Rapunzel has been avoiding her parents best she can, and Cassandra—

Cassandra is right back where she started.

She supposes it could be worse; the king could strip her of the guard title entirely. Being demoted to the dungeons, being forced to avoid Rapunzel… these things aren’t good by any stretch of imagination, but as far as limitations go, they aren’t so bad. Take this, for example—for all of the King’s grandiose orders, here Rapunzel is, only three days later having already discovered a path through the tunnels that leads right to Cassandra’s quarters.

It could be worse, Cassandra thinks, and ignores the way it feels like she’s trying to convince herself. It could be worse.

“I just… I want to be sure.”

Cassandra turns, straightening up in full as she pulls on the last piece of armor, strapping her arm guard in place. Clunky, bronze, degraded, demoted. She misses the golden shine of the armor for Royal Guards. “And I’m telling you exactly what I told Eugene. It’s fine. There’s obviously something wrong, and—and you need my help. And if what you overheard was true…”

It’s the reason for Rapunzel’s visit, after all. Cassandra had woken up to sunset, blearily about to get ready for yet another awful night shift—only to find the resident Princess and future Queen leaning over her face like a fretting hen, eyes bright with a stolen secret.

“I’m almost certain,” Rapunzel says at once. “I know it was Nigel talking, he’s got… a distinctive voice. And he sounded worried.”

According to Rapunzel, just this morning while on her way to meet with her parents for yet another awkward not-quite-conversation, she’d passed by a hall and heard Nigel talking with a messenger. Which isn’t anything unusual—advisors talk with messengers literally all the time—except the contents of this conversation had been a little… stressed. A deal in the making, a big agreement between the King and another party—only whoever and whatever this deal was about, it didn’t seem to be about anything good.

Still, Cassandra is content to play devil’s advocate for this. “The kingdom makes deals all the time, Raps. Compromise, trade, agreements… that’s what running a country is all about.”

Rapunzel isn’t swayed. “Trust me, okay? This wasn’t like the usual. The way they were talking…” She bites her lip. “Cass, it sounded… bad. Almost like they—Corona, my dad—were running out of other options, but also like accepting the deal would be…”

“Like a deal with the Moon?”

“Or Zhan Tiri. Just. Bad.”

“I believe you,” Cassandra says, finally. She places one hand on her sword. “But that’s why, if it’s really as big as you say, we need more information, if anything we do is going to stick. So, if this is what’s needed…”

I want to help, she doesn’t say this time. She’d already said it to Eugene, two days and a night ago, when he stopped by her room and pressed a letter in her hands.

“You don’t have to do this, Cass,” he’d said then, letter in hand but holding back. “I know how much this job means to you.”

“Will it help?”

“It’s something.”

“Then yes,” Cassandra had said, cold and trying hard not to seem desperate, and she’s spent every night after thinking about that letter and what it meant, and the look in Eugene’s eyes when he gave it to her. Like he knew. Like he suspected.

King Frederick had been cold when he’d demoted her, near icy in tone. In contrast, beside her, Cassandra’s father had been spitting mad on her behalf, only just holding his tongue, his face dark with an anger that the King hadn’t even batted an eye at. Cassandra had taken the sentence with her head high and her heart burning. She’d known what this was really about, even then. It’s not about the secrets. It’s not even about Rapunzel’s silence, not really. It’s this—Rapunzel, flinching and quiet and different behind the eyes, the attack Cassandra can’t elaborate on and the prisoner who escaped, Varian vanished into the wilds.

In the eyes of the king, Cassandra has failed. Never mind that Varian got a chance to attack because Rapunzel let him. Never mind it was Rapunzel who let him go. Never mind that—

But even then. Even then, that hadn’t shaken her. But when the King had demoted her, when that golden shine of royal armor was replaced by lesser bronze—Cassandra had stared down at gloved hands, and wondered what the hell she was doing there.

Standing in line, she thinks. Guarding locked doors. She’s traveled across two continents, she’s traversed the ruins of a kingdom long dead, she’s looked a god full in the face and snarled—

And here she is. Back again in the kingdom, with armor that doesn’t fit quite right and a restless burning beneath her skin, the whisper of opportunity lost.

When did I outgrow you? she wonders, absently, picking up her halberd, putting the helmet under her arm. She draws the sword and looks at it, the person staring back. When did I lose this?

But she doesn’t say that. She can’t, not really—she hasn’t the words, and a little bitter voice in her gut says that Rapunzel won’t understand anyway. Besides, Rapunzel has her own issues to deal with. Her own struggles. Cassandra doesn’t want to become another burden—not any more of a burden, at least.

When did I become so weak as to be used against you?

But those are quiet thoughts. Cassandra shoves them away, locked back in the corner of her mind where they belong, and turns to face Rapunzel with both hands on her hips. Rapunzel is sitting quiet on the bed, head bowed, gloved hands folded in her lap, and at the sight something in Cassandra’s chest eases. She crosses over, and kneels down before her. “Hey. Raps.”

Rapunzel looks up. Her eyes are dry, the green of her irises cold and clear. Her mouth is set in a mulish sort of stubborn. That tight knot in Cassandra’s chest eases further, and she manages the barest hint of a smile. “Look,” she says. “I get it. I do. And you’re right. It’s—a lot.” Which is a nice way of saying basically treasonous, but hey. “Look. It’ll work out, okay? I’ll do a scan on the dungeons when I can, get info like you requested—” As per the letter still in her pocket, anyway. “—and yeah, sure, it’s… dangerous.”

“Treason. If you get caught. And my dad—”

“Yeah. But Eugene has the right idea. Don’t tell him I said this, but… look. You can eavesdrop on the nobles. Eugene is doing…whatever he’s doing. And me?” Her lips thin. “I can see what the prisoners say. I can walk around and listen, and see what they know. And maybe it’s dangerous, but if it gets us what we need to know, gets us where need to go…” She trails off, pointedly.

Rapunzel dips her head. “I’m worried,” she admits, quiet. “And you’re right, I don’t know enough. But—Cass, what if you’re right about this, too? What if it’s nothing? What if it’s not worth it? What if we just make things worse?”

“Yeah, okay. Good point. But you’re doing this anyways, right? So… I—I don’t want—” Oh, how to word this. Cassandra blows out a breath through her teeth, hard and hissed. “I can’t just sit here, Raps. I can’t do nothing.” Her hands curl, unbidden. “Don’t shut me out again.”

The set to Rapunzel’s jaw eases, just a bit. She reaches out and squeezes Cassandra’s hand, brief and firm despite how the pressure on her injuries makes her face twitch with an echo of pain. “I won’t,” Rapunzel says, and a pale smile flickers across her face. “I… I did promise, after all.”

“You did,” Cassandra replies, neutral.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll lay off. If you’re sure.”

“Very sure.”

The smile on Rapunzel’s face settles, a little stronger. “Thanks, Cass.”

“It is literally the least I can do,” Cassandra informs her, dryly, and stands up with the creak of new armor. “Now get out of my room before your new guard realizes you're missing, yeah? Elias is skittish, but he’s going to realize you used your hair as an escape route sooner rather than later, and if I have to go guard the sewers we’re all going to suffer.”

Rapunzel’s smile widens. “Right!” she says, and scampers up, heading back for her newfound secret entrance to the tunnels. Seriously, how does she keep finding those things? “I’ll try and visit again soon. There’s this dinner party with my parents, and I think I might be able to ferret out a few details on this mysterious deal. I’ll let you know!” Something in her face gentles. “…Please take care of yourself, Cass.”

“Only if you do.”

Cassandra watches her go, and manages a small wave and a weak smile when Rapunzel looks back. She waits, patiently, until the stone door of the secret entrance latches shut, and then lets her hand falls with a sigh.

For a moment she just stands there, basking in the silence. Her hand goes to her pocket. The missive Rapunzel wrote and Eugene gave her sits heavy by her side.

I’m sorry to ask this of you. I know my father is your King. But I need you, Cass. I need to know if you’re with me. You don’t have to say yes now. You don’t have to answer at all. And I will never, ever be angry if you say no. You’re my best friend, now and forever. But whatever you’re willing to give. Whatever secrets you find willing to share with me…

If the time comes to choose, if circumstances force us to make a stand—will you stand by my side?

Cassandra has never been readier. But still—

For some reason, the knot remains, cold and heavy in her chest.

She marches out of her room to her new guard shift with her chin up and back straight and proud. Some heads turn when they see her pass; some faces creases in sympathy, others tight-lipped. Odd, she thinks, and remembers vividly Eugene’s offhand comment on the castle’s reactions. She thinks again of her father’s face when the King stripped her of rank, the anger he didn’t even try to hide, and her lips thin further. There’s something wrong here after all—she just hopes it’s not the internal battle she’s starting to suspect it might be.

She turns another hall, pushes open the last door. Cold, rank air blows against her face. Her nose wrinkles.

Once, in a different age, the dungeons of Corona had served as part of the castle proper. In the start of Corona’s great history, King Herz der Sonne had walked these halls and eaten in these empty rooms, enjoyed food and rest in the grand circular hall that has become the main prison pit. These stone walls were filled with history and majesty, until an unfortunate winter earthquake fifty years after his reign brought the whole castle tumbling down.

The castle was rebuilt, of course—better this time, and it has withstood every earthquake since for the remaining hundreds of years. But of that first, lonesome castle, only the tunnels and this hall remain—the tunnels locked down for fear of constant collapse, and the rubble of the first castle become one of the worst places in the whole kingdom.

The point is that the dungeons are a place of history—and at the moment, Cassandra feels as if she’s experiencing each one. As she marches through and down the enclosed halls, the cold deepens, the stone growing soft with age and dark with a grime built up over centuries. Voices murmur low and bitter through the grates as she passes, and the stench of rot and mildew and waste is so heavy she almost struggles to breathe. There’s a slick moss crawling stubbornly through the cracks in the mortar, and as she passes down to the last and final floor, the old stone sagging and heavy, the ceilings low and strained under the weight of the years, even the voices fade out. There aren’t many prisoners here. In truth, there’s very little here at all. Something wet and watery drips down the wall. The cells are silent and empty. Cassandra, standing all and alone in a dark corridor, takes a deep breath and regrets it almost at once.

She’s in full guard armor, the bronze polished and shining, her curls forced under the tight helmet. Her gloves are crisp on her hands, the halberd stiff in her palms; her stance is straight and her eyes unwavering from the door. Every few minutes she’s to turn from her post to pace up and down the corridor for a routine check before she returns back to the door at the end of the hall.

It’s a joke of a job. It’s a job for newbies and rookies and guards with their heads too full of pride for sense, and here she is. Stuck here until Rapunzel either breaks her silence—unlikely—or until the King cools his temper, which…

Well.

She’s probably going to be here for a while, she knows, and as she stops before her new post, she closes her eyes, breathing in deep through her teeth.

Gods, she has no idea what she’s doing here. Cassandra is skilled and she knows it. She’s wasted here, and the fact she’s only been posted here as punishment for Rapunzel’s actions only furthers the insult. She’s not—resenting it, really, or at least she’s trying not to. It’s not Rapunzel’s fault. That the King is punishing Cassandra in order to punish Rapunzel… it’s more than insulting. It’s downright infuriating.

Not to mention being replaced by Elias, of all the guards. The boy is… new is almost too kind a term. He’s barely not a trainee, and while he’s not a bad kid, Cassandra suspects that kindness won’t stop him from reporting Rapunzel’s every action to the King.

They’ve been back for only a scant three days, and already, most of Rapunzel’s worries are proving justified. If this is destiny, Cassandra wishes she could punch it into submission or something. First the Dark Kingdom, now this—for gods’ sake, don’t they all deserve a break?

But no, of course not. And so Rapunzel’s confined in the castle and Eugene’s walking on so many eggshells he decided running was the better option, and Cassandra is here: stationed in the deepest, darkest, most boring corridor in the dungeon, waiting for nothing.

She closes her eyes. “Look around,” Rapunzel had said. “Keep your eyes open. Maybe you’ll find something everyone else missed.” But gods, how is Cassandra going to find anything if she’s stuck miles underground for eight straight hours a day? She’d mentioned the idea of wandering around to listen in on the prisoners herself, but in the secret depths of her mind, even she can admit it’s basically a worthless task. Who on earth would spill the beans when guards lurk around every corner?

She wants to help, but this—

It feels terribly like being shunted. All. Over. Again.

Cast aside and left in the dark, something in her whispers, dark and bitter. Cassandra sets her jaw. There isn’t even a guard on duty to take over once her shift ends— there’s nothing here to guard at all. This job is a joke.

She turns hard on her heel, walking away. To hell with it. If she’s stuck down here, she thinks grimly, she can at least explore. As useless as it is, at least those cells aren’t empty.

The air is like ice around her; the winter cold turned something subzero in the freezing hold of the underground stone. Each breath puffs like fog before her. In her armor, the metal is so chilled her fingers flex on impulse to get blood flow going. She turns down the twisting halls, eyes passing blind over the shadowy cells and water-rusted metal, the withered skeletons of the ruins of the ancient castle. She breathes in, breathes out. Nothing appears. Nothing happens.

Nothing’s ever going to happen.

Who is she even kidding? She’s going to be down here for hours, for days, for weeks. She wants to help but she couldn’t even see Rapunzel herself; the princess had to find a way to her instead. Rapunzel may be trapped in her room, but she already knows how to slip free— and Cassandra’s chains are so much tighter. She has so much more to lose.

And if things do go wrong, guess who’s going to suffer for it? Her, probably. Definitely. She loves Rapunzel, gods know she does, but so much of this mess is just—!

Why did she let Varian go? Why didn’t she ask them? Why hasn’t she explained? What little Cassandra knows of the labyrinth is just that—just the little. Just the bare minimum. She’s not asking for a play by play, but if Rapunzel is going to release known criminals, couldn’t she at least give a real reason? She’d said it was because it didn’t feel right, but what had that even meant? Feeling has no place in politics. No place in acting queen, or princess…

Even after everything, she’s still weak.

Cassandra stops mid-step.

She feels struck, stunned still by her own thoughts. Her hand rises to her head. A wave of dizziness overcomes her, shame like a blooming poison in her gut. The cold of the dungeon bites at her skin like a beast.

That’s… that’s a cruel thing to think. Sure, Rapunzel is a little much at times, but she’s been growing too, changing, becoming more and more sure of her place every day. More confident in herself, even if Cassandra doesn’t agree with all her choices. And—and Cassandra knows that, she understands that, so why—?

“…Cassandra? Is that you?”

She jumps, just barely avoiding dropping her halberd. She whips around, breath caught, weapon raised—and the confused face of a guard blinks back, almost bemused.

She stares at him, mouth open in shock—lowers her weapon rapidly, heat climbing in her cheeks. “I— sorry. You snuck up on me.” She pauses, abrupt. “Wait, what are you doing down here?”

The other guard frowns at her. “Cassandra, this is my post. Aren’t you stationed in the lower dungeons?”

“I…” She looks around, rapid, and realizes he’s right—the walls are lighter, the stink stronger. This isn’t her post at the lower dungeons. This is the first sector—the private prison, for top-priority prisoners, serious threats to the kingdom. Once upon a time, Varian had been kept in this sector, only one floor above her. When had she…? “Apologies. I got lost in thought.”

His scowl deepens. “Look, I know the demotion must sting, but that’s no reason to leave your post. What would the Captain say?”

Cassandra flushes, her lips pulling away from her teeth. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”

The guard is glaring.

Abruptly Cassandra remembers herself. She cuts herself off, breathing in deep through her nose. Her fingers clench white-knuckled under her gloves, curled tight and shaking around the halberd. “…No, never mind. You’re right. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

She turns away hard before he can say anything more, marching off down the stairs. She doesn’t look back. The guard shakes his head and turns away, pulling the door latched behind him, back again at his post.

She leaves the private dungeon behind, and slams the door tight behind her. She walks quick, her stride furious. Her footsteps echo off the walls. Just like that: alone again.

Water drips uneven on the withered stone. The darkness slithers and seeps in the corners. The lanterns flicker. Unknown even to herself, Cassandra shivers once, and hugs her arms tight.

And in the darkness of a cell just out of view, someone else watches her seethe—and smiles.

“Oh, yes,” the prisoner says. Their voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper; their smile bares feral in the lanternlight. “I agree.”

Cassandra opens the final door, the exit to the prison floor. A sharp, foul gust of air howls through. The lantern flickers. For one shining moment, the prisoner’s eyes glint bright and green.

“She’ll make a wonderful disciple.”

.

For a moment, Varian doesn’t understand what he’s hearing.

He stands there, before the market stall, hands cold and heart growing colder; the screams, distant, are indistinct to him. It could be cheering, he thinks. It could be celebration. It could be nothing at all.

Except then Yasmin grabs his arm and yanks him back, and people have started to run, and then all at once he hears a boom like thunder and sees shrapnel fly, and he thinks—cannons—and he realizes.

The harbor is under attack.

A whisper drifts by his ears, paranoia crystalized to reality. The wind hisses like a curse. I warned you, child. Now it is too late.

The ground rocks with the force of the explosives; Varian stumbles sideways and just barely keeps to his feet. He can hear laughter, distantly, in the crowd, faint above all the screaming, mingling with the shrieking steel of sword against sword as the guardsmen of Port Caul rush in. But that doesn’t make sense, he thinks—how could it all happen at once, so soon? Or had these attackers planned this, had they snuck in with the market crowd and waited amongst the people for the attack to begin?

Another blast of cannon fire shakes the stonework, cutting his thoughts short. This time Varian isn’t so lucky—he falls hard on his knees, unable to stand on the shaky ground.

A hand grips his arm, nails digging into his shoulder—Yasmin drags Varian to his feet, supporting him against her. In the alchemy stall, the owner has vanished. Varian lists sideways in her hold. “What—”

“Pirates,” Yasmin hisses, and they both stumble when the ground rocks again. Cracks line the street. “I knew they were getting bold, but this is—!”

The jeering grows louder, closer to them. Yasmin pulls him up to his feet, and this time Varian needs no instruction. The pound of blood in his ears, a looming threat coming ever closer—he knows this feeling, this metallic tang in the air.

The labyrinth has etched this lesson into his bones.

He runs, and Yasmin runs with him. The crowd, once comforting, has turned confining; bodies shifting like a living thing, people on the ground, someone crying. Varian shoves his way through, trying to get away. A piercing scream makes him falter, then push on, but Yasmin turns back, vanishing momentarily in the crowd.

Varian stumbles, stopping too, turning back less because he wants to and more on instinct. Panic coats his tongue. He pushes through the mill of people, searching—and finds Yasmin on the ground, kneeling down to help someone up.

“To your feet!” Yasmin is saying, pulling the poor bystander upright. “Hurry! Get others off the ground! We will all be trampled at this rate.”

“Yasmin—!”

“Boy, what are you standing there for? Go hide!”

“I—” He wants nothing more than to run, but her moment of altruism has sent a cloud of shame through him. She’d stopped at the screams and cries for help. He had not. “I can, I can help—”

“I think not.” Yasmin grabs his arm, pushes him away; the crowd swells and ebbs around them. “Go to the buildings, you are small, hide by the crates—this crowd will kill you if the pirates don’t get there first, now hurry and—”

A shrieking sound rets the air, the awful screech of metal sliding against metal. Yasmin cuts herself off, whipping around; Varian stares over her shoulder, numb and horrified. There is a body in armor fallen to the ground, and red smeared across the cobblestone. Above the body there is a pirate, pale like a fish’s belly and smiling with teeth like tombstones, pulling free a crude sword dripping with blood and gore.

Varian claps a hand over his mouth, bile sour in his throat. The sight of blood makes his head spin. He’s never—he’s never seen someone die before, he realizes. Not like this. Not so brutally. He’s never…

Yasmin grips his arm so tight her hand spasms, hard enough to bruise. The pain grounds him, and Varian pulls his eyes away from the dead guardsman with difficulty, swallowing back the sick. Yasmin tugs him behind her, as if to shield him, and herds him back as she steps away from the scene, moving out of the pirate’s line of sight slowly and silently—

And the money pouch in her pocket, still untied and hanging out from her pocket from when she’d opened it, minutes ago, to pay for Varian’s alchemy ingredients—dips, opens, and spills bright golden coins all across the street in a clatter.

Yasmin freezes, her eyes going wide and horrified. Varian’s breath slams shock-still in his throat.

The pirate’s head snaps up. He stands, sword in hand.

He looks right in their direction.

Yasmin says a foul word in a language Varian doesn’t know, grabs his arm, and turns to run.

Varian scrambles to follow, his heart stuck in his throat. He can hear the pirate behind them, beginning to laugh, cackling with a bright and bloodthirsty sort of glee, drunk on something far worse than wine. “Pretty lady!” the man coos over the screams of the crowd and the cannon fire. “Pretty lady, you look like you might have gold!”

“Fuck,” Varian says, distantly, and then Yasmin shoves him into an alleyway. Crates and barrels and open buckets of produce line the dirty side-street, and despite the lack of people it’s nearly a maze to his eyes. Varian dodges crates and spilled fruit, following Yasmin’s sprint best he can—and he thinks, in that moment, he will make it. He can see the other side, the open street, and he is close, so close—

He bursts out of the shadowy alley into the sunlight—and then the ground tremors with a force more than cannon fire, and sends Varian crashing to his knees.

His vision flips. White bursts like stars behind his eyes. The ground rushes up to meet him and he catches himself badly on the stone, cobble scraping up his hands, the street rocking beneath his palms like a bucking horse. Small cracks break through the rock. He doesn’t understand. This can’t be from cannon fire. This is—this is—an earthquake?

He can’t see Yasmin anymore. His head is spinning. Varian pushes dazedly to his feet, and feels so turned around he falls right back down again. His breaths rasp distant in his ears. His hands are shaking. He gets to one foot and lists hard to the side, stumbling sideways until he falls heavy on the thick glass window of a shopfront.

Varian fumbles blindly for purchase, and his fingers catch on the window frame. He gets one hand on the shopfront wall and pulls shaking to his feet, standing hunched and wheezing in the burning daylight. The glass of the shop window shines cold in the sun. He looks beside him, and the shop window reflects back at him, a distorted image of himself. In his reflection he can see the blood on his face, the shadows under his eyes. The fear and confusion clouding his expression.

And behind him. Behind him—

The man. The pirate. Blood on his coat and a smile like death. He is still laughing. Still standing. It’s as if the earthquake hasn’t touched him at all. His eyes burn green in the windowpanes. His hand is raised, and his sword glints bright in the winter sun.

Varian should run. Varian should fight. He doesn’t, though. He can’t. He feels cold. He feels frozen all the way to his bones, all the way to his navel. Like an icy cord has been pulled taut—like a hand on his neck, holding him in place. A weight in the air that is more than fear… an anticipation that is almost supernatural.

All those dreams. All those sleepless nights, trying in vain to fight the exhaustion and the dark. All those whispers in his ears. The memory of it chokes him. The memory holds him still.

The pirate lifts his blade. In the window, Varian’s reflection shimmers like a ripple effect. For a moment, someone else stands in his place. A woman, terrible in her familiarity, with stone-dark skin and eyes glowing yellow like a moon.

Hello, child.

The pirate swings.

Did you miss me?

His right hand is searing with pain. His veins feel like molten metal. The world flashes white, and the pirate’s laughter, behind him, cuts off into a scream.

And like something from Varian’s deepest nightmares—the black rocks begin to grow.

They come out of nowhere: the dark rocks bursting all at once, a starburst of deadly intent. They spear through the cobblestone like a hot knife through butter, crisscrossing and tearing up and down the street in a deadly wave. Dust bursts up in the air like a fog, the streets turned to rubble and ruin. Through the distant ringing of his ears, Varian can hear the rising screams like a final curse.

In the mirror, the Moon smiles. The icy touch at the back of his neck burns like a brand. His hand spasms with a pain white-hot and bleeding, and Varian drops to his knees.

His vision whites. Exhaustion hits him like a physical blow, the drain so sudden it makes his head spin. He blinks, and then—just like that—she’s gone. It is just him in the mirror, now. Just Varian, staring wide-eyed and horrified at his own reflection, blue eyes gone empty and cold with remembered terror.

“—get up!”

A hand pulls at his shoulder, and Varian fights on instinct, struggling to pull away. His limbs are weak, his body aching—he bites back a sob and tries to throw himself back. He hears someone curse.

“Boy, snap out of it! We need to go!”

At last, familiarity seeps through. That voice. He recognizes it.

“Varian!”

Yasmin.

His eyes clear, and he finally recognizes her. Her grip on his arm is almost bruising in its force. Her eyes are wild. There is blood on her cheek.

“Hurry!”

This time, when she pulls him up, he does not fight her.

Varian stumbles to his feet, wavering back and forth. He feels very far away. He feels like he’s drowning. He’s barely breathing at all.

Yasmin is running. Yasmin is dragging him with her. The satchel thumps heavy against Varian’s side like a promise, or a reminder. His hand hurts, but the pain is fading, needle-like piercing turned to dull aching. He feels cold. He feels so cold. He doesn’t want to know.

He looks behind him anyway.

People are crying. People are still screaming. It rings in his ears like the distant toll of a bell. Smoke and dust cloud in the air and drift soft like a fog onto crumbling streets. People are lying still. People are lying silent. He cannot see the pirate at all.

There are rocks, too. Black rocks torn through the ground like a spiny crown, ripping apart the streets. They are everywhere. They are tearing through the city like they once tore up his home. Needle-like and deadly, and each and every last one of them is pointing right at the sea.

His hands are numb. He feels so cold. In the back of his mind, he can hear laughter on a distant breeze, and for the first time he’s not sure if it’s only a memory, or perhaps something more.

Something worse.

Hello, child.

Varian looks away.

.

.

.

In a grand ship by the eastern coast, Lady Caine watches the distant sprawl of Port Caul go up in smoke.

Her hand is outstretched, reaching—her fingers curled as if to grasp the air itself. Her lips have peeled back from her teeth; her dark scowl cuts into her pretty face. The ship is empty but for her, her crew gone out to battle—armed only with their swords and a spare vessel for cannon fire. She is alone here. She is the only one watching. The only one to see exactly when the battle started… and the only one to see how it ends.

It is only Lady Caine that sees the rocks rise up, black towers hanging heavy over the city skyline. Only Lady Caine that sees her crew fall back to the sea, their numbers gutted, their white shirts turned red from bleeding.

She drags her hand away from the water, and her scowl turns to a snarl. She watches, white-knuckled and furious, as the black rocks rise up over the city. Tens upon tens of deadly spears, that lethal black stone slanted and sure, each and every needle-tip edge pointing right towards Lady Caine in her ship.

“Is that a threat?” she hisses, and turns away from the sight, pacing furious across the deck. “No one said the gods would be involved.”

She pivots on her heel, the wind whipping at her hair. Her eyes fix bright and poisonous on Port Caul. Her muttering darkens. “What happened to the Moon being too weak to make an appearance, anyway? I thought she needed a conduit for that. But that fucking moonstone is gone, and all reports say she’s an avid hater of mortals, so how…?”

She trails off, the words falling short. Her pacing stills. She holds herself tall and stiff in the shine of the winter sun, and her hands clench tight into fists. Her nails cut deep in her palm.

Something shudders across the deck. A shadow, a cloud over the sun. The boat creaks and groans like a rusty hinge. Frost crawls along the side of the boat. The wind whispers. Lady Caine closes her eyes in thought.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, the rage falling slowly to contemplation. “Maybe she did choose a mortal vessel. For some reason. Against all reports of her personality.”

A pause. Lady Caine tilts her head.

“And, say, if the Moon did choose a conduit...”

Her eyes open. She looks at Port Caul with fresh eyes. She traces the path of the black rocks. That deadly slant. That unbreakable sword. Those cruel, uncontrolled towers, and the unerring accuracy of their direction, the blade pointed right at her.

Slowly, surely, Lady Caine starts to smile. She watches as her men flee like cowards, running from the dark rocks like cities from a plague, and laughs under her breath. “Someone who can summon the dark rocks, hm…? Sounds like someone we could use.”

Another pause. She tilts her head. She turns to the shadows, to the empty air beside her, and smiles with all her teeth. In the midday shine, the green of her eyes nearly seems to glow.

“Well?” says Lady Caine. “What do you think?”

[starfleetdoesntfirefirst]

(Discovery Season 3 Episode 4 “Forget Me Not” Spoilers)

Greetings disco friends, here is my attempt at a fix-it fic.

What I mind most of all was them showing his graphic death scene, whether it’s partially-temporary or completely-temporary, after doing the same with Hugh and Michael’s then-death scenes. As far as the future of Gray's plotline goes (this season and into the next, since we know the actor is filming Season 4), I think there's a chance (especially given that GLAAD was helping them write the storyline) that he'll be completely brought back from the dead like Hugh and a chance that he won't be brought back fully but rather will continue to hang around noncorporeally like he's doing now. But either way, as with Hugh and Michael's graphic then-death scenes, that doesn't change the fact that they showed that in this episode.

I think I've reached the point of hard 'no’ on continuing to watch the show myself. (Though of course I completely support y’all in watching or not watching the show, as works for you!) And I’ll still be around here, writing fic based on Season 1 through to this episode.

Also, I’m currently brainstorming ways to put something affirming into the fandom this season while not watching, since I won't be writing fix-it ficlets and…obviously I know no one ~depends~ on my fix-it ficlets, but this community means a lot to me and I guess I want to feel like I'm putting something into the fandom even as I'm (aside from continuing to make content for older season stuff) walking away, if that makes sense? (Maybe some book giveaways of sci-fi books with trans characters, tho that may or may not work logistically/financially, or something like that.) Please let me know if you have suggestions! <3

Dreampt Of More Things

Other, F/F, M/M | Teen And Up | Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 2,600 words

ao3 link in a reblog since Tumblr still seems unpredictable about when posts with links are allowed in the tags

and/or, full fic + tags here:

Tags – Jett Reno, Jett Reno’s Wife, Michael Burnham, Hugh Culber, Ellen Landry, Philippa Georgiou (original Captain version), Adira Tal, Paul Stamets, Gray Tal, Sylvia Tilly, Tracy Pollard Adira Tal/Gray Tal, Jett Reno/Jett Reno’s Wife, Ellen Landry/Amna Patel, Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets Grief (Ellen’s) and mentions of Lorca, no serious injury since again we are sidestepping that but very brief description of Adira’s joining surgery, Gray Tal Lives, Jett Reno’s Wife Lives, Philippa Georgiou Lives

Note: This is not an Amna Patel Lives universe (Ellen Landry’s fiancée from Star Trek Online), as I am Making A Point about how no, it’s not that queer stories about loss and grief are bad or that I personally don’t want to write/read them; it’s about context, and how many characters have died over the course of your franchise, and the nature of your franchise, and what to portray versus not portray onscreen (in the context of your show), and how you’ve advertised your characters, and reading the room.

***

“Burning the midnight oil, huh?”

Jett looks up as Michael steps closer to her workbench in the corner of Engineering, raising an eyebrow, as Michael had known she would.

“Here to check my work on your outfit, Commander?” she asks, laconically, before bending her safety-goggled face back to her work.

Michael grins despite herself as she pulls out a chair opposite Jett. “I’m entirely confident in your work, Commander.”

“So you’re here to pester me because…?”

“Because I’m curious to see the work-in-progress. And, more importantly, because I ran into your wife on her way to turn in for the night, and she told me to tell you that she’s taking you out on a fantastic date when all this is over.”

“Where’s she think she’s gonna scare up a place to go out on any kind of date in the ass-middle of the 32nd century?”

Michael grins again. “I think it was a ‘looking for a way to take my wife on a fantastic date and if I cannot find one I will create one’ kind of thing.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Michael can hear the smirk in Jett’s voice as she fiddles with the wiring on the angel suit’s chestplate.

“Don’t stay up too late, Commander,” she says as she stands. “We’re still gonna need you on shift tomorrow.”

Jett grunts in acknowledgement, and Michael smiles as she walks past the spore cube and towards her quarters for the night.

***

“How are you doing with all this, Landry?” Hugh ventures, after a few days of deliberation, when he and Ellen have a quiet moment alone together at the end of a meeting.

Ellen takes a minute before answering, dropping a PADD into her bag. “One of my security lieutenants said it seemed implausible that we’d be able to find a way to send Burnham back in time, once again, especially with the way the Burn affected ability of the time crystals on Boreth to interface with the suit even if we are granted one.”

Hugh raises an eyebrow and waits, silent.

“I told her that if she thought implausible was going to stop this crew, she must've not been paying attention to half the weird shenanigans they’ve pulled off.”

Hugh smiles wryly. “‘More things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” he quotes.

Ellen gives him a look, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around this ship’s surprisingly high number of Shakespeare fans.”

“And we’ve already dreamt of more things, haven’t we?” Ellen asks simply, pausing and leaning a hip against the table. “At this point, it’s just a matter of choosing philosophies.”

High raises an eyebrow again. “That's an interesting way of looking at it, Commander.”

Ellen folds her arms. “Yes, thank you, I am a font of excellent observations, at least when I’m not busy misreading dipshit captains and making the worst choices in the universe. You can stop giving me the sympathy look, by the way.”

Hugh watches her, silent.

“Yes," she tells him in a sing-song voice, "I have in fact experienced one or two emotions while helping prepare for a mission to bring someone back from the dead and knowing I can never bring my own fiancée back.” Her tone drops back to a flat command. “The only person in my, this, situation who actually deserves your sympathy is Amna, and she’s not here to receive it. You’re a busy man; you’re needed all over the place. Go do something clever and medical somewhere.”

Hugh watches her for a moment longer before he says simply, “I’m so sorry. For your loss.”

“Don’t. No.” Ellen’s voice is firm, though without rancor. “Those words are not for me. I am not a good widow. Do you understand that? Instead of honoring my fiancée in any substantive way, I went off and got manipulated by some dipshit. And what’s worse, if it hadn’t been for the manipulation and the secretly evil part, I might not have ever figured out to regret it. Do you understand that? Can you understand that? You’re a good person. Your partner is a good person. Do you know what it is to not just not be able to save her but to get even grieving wrong?”

For a long moment, Hugh considers what to say.

“I think your actions in helping Lorca were wrong,” he says. “I don’t think it’s possible to grieve wrong.”

Ellen, eyes dubious, grunts in a way that could be dismissal, acknowledgement, or something in between.

“Take care, Commander,” Hugh says quietly, heading for the door.

He is nearly in the hallway when Ellen speaks.

“This is part of hers.”

Hugh pauses, turning to face her again. “Hers--?”

“Amna. This mission would have been part of her philosophy.” Ellen’s lip twitches in what could be the shadow of an exhausted smile, voice still blunt and the expression in her eyes still characteristically direct. “Without question.”

***

When Georgiou returns from Boreth, she discovers that Adira has slipped down to the shuttle bay to meet her.

“How did it go?” they ask, hesitantly, eyes wide with some unknown emotion.

“Successful,” she tells them, as the two of them make their way out of the bay together. She pats one strap of her pack. “We now have a time crystal.” Given that Gray’s life rests on having a crystal to power the suit, it’s unsurprising that Adira has been worried.

“No, I mean—I knew you’d be able to do it,” Adira tells her, as if this is obvious, a trust and confidence in their eyes that makes Georgiou’s heart ache. “But, I just, I do talk with the rest of the crew, and they talked about how Pike was so f—messed up by whatever he had to go through to get the crystal, like it was really really…bad. And I just—” They stare at their feet as they walk, sneaking a quick glance sideways at Georgiou. Georgiou knows she probably looks like shit. “If I’d never come to this ship, you wouldn’t have done that for Gray. For us.”

Georgiou stops walking, turning to face Adira, and Adira watches her, their face pinched and anxious.

“Listen to me, Adira.”

Adira nods.

“This might not be something you fully, truly understand until you’re an adult yourself, but when kids are hurt or in danger, it’s us adults' job to protect you. That’s one of the most important parts of being a caring adult Human. Caring adult person,” she corrects herself. “Maybe the most important thing.”

Adira nods uncertainly.

“Saving Gray is the most important thing right now,” Georgiou says gently, as the two of them resume walking. “To all of us. You arriving on this ship was a very, very good thing for so many reasons, Adira. Saving him is one of them.”

“And that’s a go, Burnham!” comes Paul’s voice in Michael’s ear, and she launches herself upwards from Discovery’s stationary hull, the soft interior padding of the red angel suit once again surrounding her as she hovers in space, programming her coordinates.

“Jump commencing in thirty seconds,” she reports.

“Take good care, Commander,” Paul says, his voice gentle in her ear against the silent cushion of the vacuum around her.

“I will.”

A pause of a few seconds. “Adira says ‘good luck.’”

Michael can picture the two of them as they were when she flew out of the shuttle bay, Paul standing at his portable console in the shuttle bay's cobbled-together mission control, one arm around Adira.

“Tell them—” Michael swallows. “Tell them thank you. Tell them that I’ll—tell them that we’ll be back soon.”

“I will.”

The countdown completes, and Michael falls forward into a bright shower of instants.

***

Outside the generation ship, Michael shifts reality out of the timeline with a wave of one Jett-Reno-enhanced suit hand, glancing at the two figures inside the viewport in front of her before tractoring the asteroid off its course. After confirming its trajectory away from the ship, she punches the personal transporter on her chest, materializing inside.

Gray and Adira startle, each making as though to stand protectively in front of the other.

“I mean you no harm,” Michael says quickly. “And you’re both going to be safe. I am going to make sure of that. My name is Michael Burnham, and the next year is going to be very difficult for you, Adira,” she continues, feeling the words tumble from her lips as quickly as she can say them, “but I want you to know that when that year is over, you’re going to see Gray again. Gray,” she says, holding out the unpowered exoskeleton of a second timesuit, “I need you to put this on and come with me.”

Gray steps closer to Adira. “What? No, I—”

“Your name is Gray Tal, and your last name was Senna Tal, and when he was a child his favorite thing to do was to read books to his collection of plush tribble toys,” Michael says.

Gray’s eyes widen. “That’s—“

Michael continues, rattling off former Tal host facts as quickly as she can, before explaining, also as quickly as she can, about the asteroid they’ve just seen her deflect, and the symbiont, and the Discovery.

“Adira needs to have the symbiont,” she explains, “in order not to cause a time paradox. But the modified time crystal in my suit will allow me to shift you—” she nods at Adira—“back into the real timeline in time for the medbots to give you the symbiont. I just need to do it at exactly the right time, so that Gray doesn’t actually die, and you snap back just as the medbots are holding the symbiont.” Do medbots hold things? Hover them? Whatever; she’s getting the point across. And Gray is putting the suit on.

“Luckily, my amazing crewmates have worked out all the timing,” she continues, “so I just need to transport us back outside and then snap the timeline back to the right instant. And, yes, there will be two Tals in the galaxy when you see each other again and I’m sure that will make things very interesting. Ready to go?”

She holds out a hand, and Gray takes it. “I love you, Adira,” he says, as Michael reaches for the transporter.

“I love you too—” Adira says, and Michael and Gray reappear meters away in space. Adira is standing watching them, and standing watching them, and then with a motion of her hand Michael slams them back into the timeline and Gray puts a hand to his mouth over his suit visor as he watches the medbots complete the surgery and place a blanket over Adira, flying the newly-joined Human slowly away down the hallways and out of sight.

“You’ll see them again,” Michael whispers, “in just a minute.”

“Them?” Gray sounds puzzled.

Oh, right. Well, in just moments, there will be ample time for explanations. “Adira. You’ll see Adira, who’s going to be so very, very happy to see you. It will have been a year,” Michael adds, as she pulls up the angel suit controls, “and Adira is going to be so glad to see you again.”

They fall forward into sparking and sparkling time together, and all at once they’re dropping back into the timeline, floating easily in the vacuum in front of Discovery’s shuttle bay.

“Ready?” Michael asks.

Gray nods. “Yeah. I mean—of course I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Michael smiles, floating them into the bay as the forcefield ripples obligingly to let them enter and landing them both on the smooth floor, steadying Gray as his feet make contact.

“Gray?”

Adira is pressing their own hand to their mouth as Michael and Gray release the visors on their suits, and then they take a step toward him, staring as though they don’t quite believe he’s real.

“It’s me,” Gray says quietly, smiling nervously at them. “I’m here.”

This appears to be all the encouragement Adira needs to dash forward, wrapping their arms around him. He hugs them back, eyes closed as he buries his head against their shoulder. Adira is smiling and crying at the same time.

“I’m here,” he whispers to them again.

Michael steps away from the two of them, leaving them to it, and Sylvia hurries forward to wrap her arms around her. “Welcome back, Michael,” she says.

Michael hugs her for several long seconds before releasing her to accept a hug from Philippa and then a pat on the back from Paul as Tracy steps forward to scan her with a medical tricorder. “No adverse effects of the jump,” she reports, smiling.

Hugh is stepping over to do the same for Gray as Gray and Adira finally—though, Michael suspects, temporarily—pull apart. Paul echoes his motion, heading for Adira and rubbing their back before wrapping a supportive arm around their shoulder as Hugh reports that Gray is fine as well and the two teenagers grin exhaustedly at each other.

Michael watches the four of them for another moment, smiling, before turning to glance at the place where Ellen stands at her own console, studiously powering it down. Her eyes flick up just briefly toward the reunion in front of her before she lowers her gaze again, turning and slipping out the doors of the shuttle bay. Michael catches Tracy’s eye, and the two of them walk after her as Sylvia steps over to power her and Paul’s consoles down in turn and Philippa begins the process of packing the rest of mission control up.

***

At 20:00 hours in an undisclosed location on the starship Discovery, Jett’s wife leads her, eyes closed and complaining happily, into a room that has been decorated to a degree that resembles an explosion in a paper snowflake factory, while a few decks up on the bridge, Philippa settles into the captain’s chair for the night shift. Tilly climbs into bed, pulling out her PADD with its book on 30th century Earth, and at the table next to the viewport in Discovery’s rec room, Michael and Tracy sit beside Ellen in silence, keeping her company in her complicated grief. Hugh hums to himself while he brushes his teeth, and Paul yawns as he finishes slipping on his pajamas, stepping forward as Hugh sets his toothbrush back in its holder and wrapping his arms around him, humming deliberately off-key. He garners an eye-roll for his trouble, and two decks down, Gray and Adira sit in Discovery’s mess hall, gazing into each others’ eyes as Adira lapses into silence after explaining how Paul found them in the Jefferies tubes in orbit over Earth.

“You’ve had so many adventures all this time,” Gray says, grinning. “Adira Tal.”

Adira half laughs, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess so.” They look up at him. “I think my adventures are about to get even weirder, Gray Tal.”

Gray grins again. “You know, I didn’t think I or anyone I know was ever going to have the chance to visit the pools. What was it like?”

“Yes, I suppose you would have to ask me what it’s like, since it’s one of the memories we don’t share,” Adira comments with a mischievous grin of their own.

Gray laughs, shaking his head, and they beam at each other in shared exhaustion and confusion and joy as Adira begins their story and the Discovery floats onward through the night.

[izabellwit]

7, 9, 11-13, and 18-20 for the ask meme (sorry if that’s a lot, I couldn’t pick a favorite. don’t feel like you have to answer all of them)

post-tangled the series ask game

jhsadkfgj these were so fun!!!!! thank u for asking!! 😄

7. Do you have any post-series headcanons?

Cassandra travels around for a few years and gains renown as a wandering hero... but she always comes back to Corona, in the end. (I also think the Captain went with her!) 

11. What is a major change (rewrite) that you would make to the canon?

I... would take out the Gothel reveal. In fact, I wouldn’t have Cass be Gothel’s daughter at all. Instead, if Cass must betray Raps, I’d rewrite the series to push the fear/uncertainty/inadequacy feeling of jealousy-- not the idea that this is her destiny and she deserves it, but rather, the idea that she deserves a destiny too, and this is her way of getting it. (Or, alternatively-- a fear that the Moondrop would kill Raps, and so Cass “betrays” her in the thoughts of saving her life, perhaps?)

Overall I’m just not a big fan of the Gothel stuff, haha.

12. What is the biggest loose end or question that you still have?

What was in that letter, Quirin!???????

Also Zhan Tiri & Demanitus, please.... give me the backstory....!! 

13. Would you want a TTS spinoff? If yes, what would it be about?

Hmm... I dunno if I’d want a spin-off, but I’d love a couple of shorts!! Like, little glimpses into the post-series life, Cass’s adventures, Eugene and Rapunzel running a kingdom, Varian’s usual hijinks... just fun stuff like that. Like a “where are they now?” kinda montage!

18. Who is one character that you wish had gotten more screen time?

Oh man... is it weird to say Eugene and Lance?? I mean this more in a “most of their episodes were funny joke ones” and man, I wanted more hard-hitting plot, haha. (That said, I loved the joke eps and songs too!!! I just wished for more in-depth plotlines with them.)

And Varian, of course!! But that’s just because I’m biased, ahaha. (Oh, and Adira!! She was really fun, I would have liked more with her.)

19. How did you first learn about the show?

Fanart! I saw this BEAUTIFUL piece with Rapunzel and Varian as the Moondrop and Sundrop (this was just after season 1 ended), and I was like, “there’s a MOON KID???” Varian turned out to not be a moon kid like past-me assumed, but he had a KILLER villain arc and that sold me anyway!

20. What is your best memory/experience in the fandom?

Oh gosh... all of it? In my experience, the fandom has been extremely kind and welcoming, and talking with and having fun with everyone has just been such a delight!!! I’ve met a lot of wonderful people through Tangled. I can honestly say I enjoyed pretty much all of it!

[codynaomiswire]

TTS/RTA - “Destinies Collide” Initial Reaction

Note: Spoilers and some unpopular opinions ahead.

Ok, so...I’m going to go ahead and be honest right away.  Overall...I didn’t actually like this episode very much.  Not all of it was bad to me, but I also can’t say that I thought it was very great.  Here are some of my general thoughts and opinions on it at this point for those interested:

Things I did like:

- As always, the animation, voice acting, and soundtrack were all really good in this episode.  Kudos to the animators, VA’s, sound design team, and music team for all their hard work on it!  You all did a great job!

- Special shoutout to Zachary Levi for his vocal work on Eugene’s song!

- Lance figuring out that destroying the statues would stop the ghosts from re-spawning!  Such a great moment for him, and he was honestly one of the best things about this whole episode in my opinion.  (Also the little acknowledgement between him and Adira was cute, and his complimenting Cass on her bravery when she went to retrieve the gondola from the middle of the gorge was really nice.  Was great to see those fleeting but sincere moments of him reaching out to other characters he doesn’t talk to all that often when he’s on screen.  It was a nice touch!)

- Adira running around like an old-timey cartoon character to catch Pascal as he was falling.  That was cute and funny!  xD

Things I didn’t like so much:

- The fact that the episode was stuffed to the gills with plot twists and red herrings.  Like a lot of fans, I do love a good mystery, and plot twists when implemented correctly are terrific.  But a lot of the twists in this episode felt really forced in my opinion, were too heavily concentrated, and the overall plot felt really rushed and chaotic.  Especially when we get such big developments as Eugene finding his long-lost father and Cass going turncoat, I think it would’ve been worth it to spread out those plot elements a bit more and to flesh them out better over the course of more episodes perhaps.  Probably would’ve been good on that note to take out some of the other non-plot-related episodes earlier in the season (ex. “Goodbye and Goodwill,” “Curses!,” “The Eye of Pincosta,” etc.), and instead give more time and attention to other plot-related elements that could’ve used it.  (It also feels to me like Disney in general has been trying to chuck out a TON of plot twists in their latest works, and that’s starting to get a bit wearing in my opinion.  Creators shouldn’t be afraid to use clichés or linear story lines if they happen to work out for the best.  Not everything has to be super surprising or edgy in order to be satisfying or captivating to the audience.  Don’t force it if it doesn’t work.)

- Eugene being revealed as the Dark Prince.  Ok, ok, don’t get me wrong here.  I don’t totally dislike this development.  I do think it’s good that the series has endeavored to give us more of Eugene’s past, and yes, I do congratulate those fans who figured it out/had the theory before the big reveal.  (Way to be observant guys!)  But I personally do feel like there are a few problems with this development:

Was it just me, or did Eugene seem surprisingly...unfazed by this latest discovery?  I mean, yes, he did have a song about having an identity crisis over it, but even then, I felt like he seemed to get over it pretty quick?  I know he’s been increasingly unfazed by all the weirdness of their adventures, but man, this takes the cake on that point.  He also didn’t seem to question it for very long (which is kind of odd, especially when Edmund himself is...a bit strange), he didn’t seem the least bit miffed with Edmund about sending him away when he was a baby, or really show much emotion at all over things save for a few words and shifts in expression.  I’m sure all this needs time to sink in for him, ok, but still.  His reaction wasn’t very realistic to me.

The fact that King Edmund seemed to just send baby Eugene away in the care of his nanny and...that was it.  Like, I know the show can’t go into tons of detail on things, but honest to goodness!  It looked like King Edmund just sent baby Eugene away into the wide, dangerous world with only his nanny to take care of him and to guard him.  Like, there were no other guards with her or a foster father as well or anything!  Nope.  Just send your kid off into the wide world with minimal security and resources and hope for the best.  Way to ensure a secure future for your child Edmund.  Way to go!  xP

The time spent on this development felt super rushed.  I think it would’ve been better if there had been a whole episode dedicated to Eugene’s past as the Dark Prince, and not just have it as a B plot for the season finale.  It is supposed to be kind of a big deal, right!?  I think it would’ve been worth it to give this development its own episode.

I also find it strange that Edmund identified Eugene as his son simply by looking into his eyes.  I mean...sure, I do think I see a resemblance between Edmund and Eugene, so it’s probably right anyway.  But I do wish there had been a bit more of an explanation or more evidence for the truth of this theory instead of just, “We have the same eyes.”  (Who knows, maybe we’ll get another twist in season 03 where we find that Eugene was not actually Edmund’s child, and he had been mistaken all along.  But yeah, at this point, I would not be fazed by that.)

It seems like this development came along in order to bring about some sort of deep conflict for Eugene, but honestly...I don’t feel like it brings a whole lot of conflict at all?  I mean, sure, it’s great that he’s come to find that he has a family and whole lineage that he can now learn about, and that’s a big change for Eugene on a personal level.  But otherwise it doesn’t really do much to change the trajectory of his life or anything.  I mean, if the Dark Kingdom were still a functioning place, I can see where this would present a conflict.  Eugene could’ve felt torn between his obligation to rule the Dark Kingdom as its heir, but then his love for Rapunzel would be the opposing pull that could tear his heart in two over the whole thing, and cause more tension between himself and King Edmund who would’ve wanted him to stay to rule, etc.  But that’s not really the case.  The Dark Kingdom is dead, and everyone has left.  So there really is no Dark Kingdom left to rule.  So...Eugene can just go ahead and marry Rapunzel and live his dream in Corona anyway.  No conflict really.

I also feel like the development does do a detriment to how Eugene’s character was played up in the Tangled feature film.  One of the things that Eugene’s character was supposed to do in that movie was put a twist on the original fairytale, where instead of a prince saving Rapunzel from her tower, it was a thief that people assumed was just a good-for-nothing nobody.  But he became the hero of the story through his own bravery and self-sacrifice, and not because of any royal blood in him.  So yeah, I kind of feel like this development undermines that whole aspect of the original film.

And just a quick personal opinion: I feel like Cassandra being revealed as the Dark Princess would’ve been more compelling than having Eugene as the Dark Prince.  Could’ve also been another reason why Cass seized the Moon Stone for herself, if that was the trajectory the writers would’ve taken things in any event.  If she was the heir to the kingdom in charge of guarding the thing, it would make sense that she could see it as a kind of birthright for herself or something.

- And thus leading into the biggest one for me...the whole Cassandra plot twist.  I know some fans think this is a fantastic plot twist, but I don’t really like it.  Here are my reasons as to why:

It feels like a rehash of Varian’s betrayal, but bigger, with a lot less buildup, less reasoning behind it, and fewer sympathetic qualities.  Now, I’m sure that something big happened to Cassandra beyond that mystery door in the shell house, and I do kinda hope that we’ll get to see just what exactly happened in season 03.  But wow, I gotta say, it’s going to have to be something super compelling in order to excuse this degradation of Cassandra’s character.  Especially after Cassandra had so much character development throughout both seasons 01 & 02, this really felt like it came out of nowhere and didn’t make much sense at all.  I know there’s a theory that it’s not really Cassandra (that she’s either a clone/doppelgänger or is somehow possessed by some evil entity), and that may be right.  Heck, with all the crazy plot twists peppering this series, most anything could be a possibility at this point.  (She could be Zhan Tiri’s vessel, or Mother Gother retroactively reincarnated before she fell out of Rapunzel’s tower, or a young Mother Gothel before she time-taveled back to the past or something.  Who knows at this point!?)  But from what we know right now, it just seems to be a spiteful action with purely selfish motives on her part.  (“I’m fulfilling MY destiny!”)  We don’t even see her struggle with her decision (unlike Varian, who did have his moments of second-guessing), or show any signs that she’s making it out of interest for others.  I mean, yeah, who knows?  Maybe we’ll get yet another twist in season 03 where she did do it to protect Rapunzel somehow, and it was necessary for her to be perceived as an awful person in doing it for...some reason?  But...sigh. (Especially when her solo song before this point was largely about her wishing she had the glory she felt she deserved...that whole thing just really rubs me the wrong way.  Again, don’t get me wrong, I feel like “Waiting in the Wings” sounds amazing, and I would sympathize with some of the lyrics talking about missed opportunities, feeling like you’re meant for something more but not being there yet, etc.  But it seemed like Cass was increasingly becoming some sort of glory hound, and nobody admires that or finds that sympathetic.  (“Selfishness has never been admired.”  ~ C. S. Lewis)  At least Varian was trying to save his dad in what he was doing.  Yes, he was going about it poorly, and there were some elements of selfishness in it to be sure, but at least he was understandable in his motives.  Not excused for sure, but there was at least an explanation that made sense and was beyond “Me me me me me.”)

It’s also strange when Cass’s life was really pretty good before that moment, so what could she have hoped to gain from taking the Moon Stone for herself?  She had her friends, a loving father in the Captain, a loving community back in Corona, a steady job, a dream to work towards, etc.  It just...makes no sense, and feels more wrong than epic to me as a big reveal.  Again, maybe there will be a good explanation for it in the future, but from what we know right now, it just seems to make her character a twist antagonist for the sake of having another one, and it just feels frustrating currently.

The weird transformation sequence when Cass grabbed the Moon Stone.  I mean, I can certainly can get behind the glowing white-blue hair and eyes (something that the moon![insert character name here] theorists got right!), but...wow, the crew really went anime trope on this one.  Which I’m not totally opposed to.  I think anime references are cool.  But this one just...felt a bit weird?  I mean, I know the Moon Stone is way more extra than the Sun Drop, so sure, perhaps the alterations it makes to someone’s appearance when being infused into them could’ve been a bit more than just a change in hair color.  But I think it would’ve made more sense if the armor Cass already had on became a different color or something (btw, RIP knight!Cassandra and armor, you were short-lived and will be missed), but instead it gave her what basically looked like a moon superhero jumpsuit.  From a purely aesthetic perspective, it does have a great design, and Cass did look quite striking in it.  But even though it looks great on a purely aesthetic level, I also don’t feel like it fits the tenor of the rest of the TTS/RTA aesthetic.  I just..feels kind of out of place to me.

On a personal note: I also think it makes more sense for Varian to have been the moon vessel/the one to take the Moon Stone in the series, so this development also honestly had me disappointed in that way.  I know, I know, yes, there is a bit of a bias to this opinion, but I also do think that Varian’s character had a TON of evidence to suggest this would’ve been more than plausible for his character, it could’ve tied into his motives to free his father, and he already had deeper connections to the Dark Kingdom than we’ve ever seen of Cass, and it would’ve been a great way to reintroduce him into the series.*  And hey, if not Varian, I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Eugene to take the Moon Stone instead of Cassandra, with Eugene being all, “I’m sorry Rapunzel, but I can’t let you do this,” or something like that.  I think that would’ve been way more compelling than Cass just doing it because of “destiny,” which she believed she had because of...reasons?  Perhaps I’ll be proven wrong, but as it stands right now, I don’t think Cass was the best choice to go turncoat and to become the vessel for the Moon Drop.  Or at the very least, they probably should’ve shown some sort of conflict in her over the decision.  I know she’s not a very warm character, but pure malice doesn’t seem to fit her either.  Just...weird.

*On the topic of Varian, I also have my opinions regarding how he as a character and a lot of the Varian fans have been treated in the aftermath of season 02 (by both other fans and some of the TTS/RTA crew members actually), but I won’t talk about that in this post as it’s not in the actual contents of the episode itself.  And while I may get into it more in another post, I don’t feel like getting into that drama right now, especially when things are so fresh off the tail end of the finale.  Just wanted to drop this note here though, as it’s another unpopular opinion I have related to this episode and to season 02, and I feel like the fandom and crew members could’ve done better in their responses to Varian’s fans.  Just saying.

So...yeah.  I guess that’s about it for now for my initial reaction to this episode.  You don’t have to agree with me on it, but these are just my own honest thoughts on the topic for anyone interested.

[kelseyfitzherbert]

001 Tangled 002 New Dream 003 Eugene

001 | Tangled

Favorite character: eugeeeeeeeene

Least Favorite character: uhhhhh fred

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): new dream, new dream, cass x nobody (she doesn’t need anyone she’s got bigger things to worry about) , lance x adira, new dream again

Character I find most attractive: -sweats in bi- idk i love eugene and rapunzel a lot 

Character I would marry: -continues to sweat in bi- new dream

Character I would be best friends with: eugene. we would be snarky little shits together

a random thought: you know what i love? that little strand of rapunzel’s bangs that always hands down. its so cute.

An unpopular opinion: i think cass is a whiny brat half the time she’s complaining about stuff (ie - waiting in the wings was a great song but all i could hear was her whining that she wasn’t the center of attention)

My Canon OTP: n e w   d r e a m 

My Non-canon OTP: varian x eugene or varian x rapunzel (its gross)

Most Badass Character: MOONSANDRA

Most Epic Villain: zhan freakin’ tiri 

Pairing I am not a fan of: anything with varian in it. he needs to focus on dealing with himself before he gets thrown into a relationship.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): ARIANNA. MORE REPRESENTATION FOR ARIANNA. 

Favourite Friendship: shorty x yams 

Character I most identify with: rapunzel for the most part, but eugene’s sass, and lance’s appetite. 

Character I wish I could be: rapunzel. hehehehehe

002 | New Dream

When I started shipping them: nov. 24th 2010 at 7pm (thats when i saw the movie for the first time)

My thoughts: they make my heart go iudj;flajksfjldajf;dsa

What makes me happy about them: how good they are for each other. i love how eugene supports her with everything he has and how she is just the center of his world. 

What makes me sad about them: i wish we would be able them as parents :( 

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: when rapunzel is a ditz. she’s not a ditz. she’s smart as hell and she could outsmart anybody. 

Things I look for in fanfic: them bein’ cuties. (also smut lol)

My wishlist: fitzbabies 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: themselves. they don’t need to be with anyone else. 

My happily ever after for them: them to just be happy. and have babies. and not settle down and be wild and for them to just be adorable.

003 | Eugene

How I feel about this character: have you ever loved something so much your heart physically hurts? 

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: rapunzel. maybe lance depending on my mood XD 

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: him and edmund!!!!

My unpopular opinion about this character: he’s always wearing too many layers 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i want to see his backstory, and we’ve found out we’ll get it in s3 so im here for it.

Favorite friendship for this character: him and lance!! or him and luxury because he deserves it.

My crossover ship: eugene x me 

[notsosmallbean]

Hey guys, so I just reposted an art countdown where I'll be drawing something for each episode of season two of TTS, but I've only just started season two. So, I will be recording all of my episode thoughts on here as I watch it!

Beyond the Corona Walls

New intro song visuals, nice

Why?? Did they change?? The title???

Cue me being way too excited about my son's one line in the recap of season one

Oh shoot I forgot about rock sword lady

Not even gonna try to comment on whatever that rock castle and its mysteries are...

Pfft wow that was a big change in mood

I'm digging the new outfits, ngl

Ugh, why'd they have to bring Hookfoot...

Okay so I'm kinda glad they did this proposal stress thing because it super-solidifies that the series takes place between the defeat of Mother Gothel and the end of the movie. I was confused, so that's good to know.

No no no no no! Not this guy too! I hate this guy...

Rapunzel is too optimistic for her own good. like girl stop pretending this town isn't a shithole

Any form of logic whatsoever: "okay so the baron has already been marked down as a really threatening bad guy. this ought to be intense." My last two brain cells: "hehe he's feeding swans"

Yo okay it's rock sword lady-

That is way too many baguettes...

OH NO RAPUNZ- oh okay she was just pwning them

That is one unfriendly looking group hug

Yeah I don't care if your name is Adira, I think that I'll call you Todoroki. No idea why...

We STAN a protective Cassandra!

Oh no poor Pascal! He's sad she called Cass her best friend...

*yeets Cassandra* I dOn'T wAnT tO fIgHt

OKAY IS THIS DUDE LITERALLY GOING TO COMMIT MURDER JUST BECAUSE EUGENE DIDN'T MARRY HIS DAUGHTER

Hah, Cassandra is threatened by an angry Rapunzel

I mean, obviously they're going to beat the baron, because we see them getting married in the movie, but this is still really tense !

This song has me on the verge of tears,,,

Rapunzel being catty about Stallion is what I'm here for

I'm losing my mind over Pascal eating that fly from Rapunzel's shoulder

@ the dude stealing what appears to be handfuls of sweetrolls: me too sis

Eugene and Lance actually have a really sweet relationship I'm s o f t

That swan statue does not deserve Rapunzel's ridicule

It bothers me so much that nobody here is in wedding attire

E X C U S E M E

WHY CAN'T SHE CONTROL THE ROCKS ANY MORE????

Okay does no one in this universe know what a chameleon is?

Also I've been holding this burn back since she appeared on screen...

Is her name Stallion because she has a horse face?

OH HELLO SHADOW WOMAN

Where does the Baron keep getting these spiders?

Ahhh Pascal you absolute KING

Why are they letting them go???

Why is everyone acting like marriage is going to mark the end of the line for Rapunzel's freedom?? Like, she's adventurous, not promiscuous.

Can I just say I love the characters even more this season? Like, Rapunzel and Eugene are meshing as they were meant to, Cassandra is being more supportive, and everyone feels way more developed than in season one.

So I'm going to place my bets on Adira being the end villain for this season. Just because she follows the exact same mesh that Varian did: a new character introduced at the beginning of the season who is originally presented as an ally if not friend. Although, Disney isn't really the type to follow a mold, so you never know. I welcome her addition to the cast, whether she ends up evil or not! She seems fun.

I'm already loving this season, so I can't wait to go on and watch the rest ^^

Alright, I've finished episode one! This episode was pretty long, and I had a lot to say, so I'll be posting its commentary by itself. I am going to keep watching, but I think this is enough for one post!

Peace!

[feralsrock]

I've seen you post a lot about the tangled series, so what about the fandom thing for that? If you want

Oh, I totally want to! (I actually reblogged that ask meme with hopes that someone would send me Tangled! So thank you! :D)

NOTE:  THIS IS NOT SPOILER FREE!  LOOK AWAY IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE SERIES YET!

THE FIRST CHARACTER I EVER FELL IN LOVE WITH: Eugene Fitzherbert.  I didn’t see Tangled until about 2 years after it came out, but watching scenes of Eugene is what really convinced me to watch it.

A CHARACTER THAT I USED TO LOVE/LIKE, BUT NOW DO NOT: Uhhhh… I don’t think I really have one.  My opinions may have changed on some characters but none to point of switching how I feel about them emotionally.

A SHIP THAT I USED TO LOVE/LIKE, BUT NOW DO NOT: N/A

MY ULTIMATE FAVORITE CHARACTER™: Eugene Fitzherbert!  He is the BEST Disney Prince (Name another Disney Prince that actually DIED for his respective Princess. I’ll wait), and single-handedly dethroned Prince Philip from his throne as my fave Disney Prince.

PRETTIEST CHARACTER: Rapunzel.  (Eugene is more of a beautifully handsome) 

MY MOST HATED CHARACTER: Mother Gothel.  Everything that comes out of her abusive mouth makes me so freaking mad.

MY OTP: NEW DREAM (BEST Disney couple ever)

MY NOTP: Anything that involves Eugene and Rapunzel not being with each other.

FAVORITE EPISODE: “Destinies Collide”  That episode was so intense and so much awesome stuff happened! It was amazing!

SADDEST DEATH: Eugene’s death in the movie still makes me cry even though I’ve seen it more times than I can count at this point.  Even just listening to the corresponding song on the soundtrack will get me going.

FAVORITE SEASON: Season 2 really upped the game for me and I’ve been enjoying it so much.  

LEAST FAVORITE SEASON: N/A  (ALL the current seasons are amazing)

CHARACTER THAT EVERYONE ELSE IN THE FANDOM LOVES, BUT I HATE: Don’t murder me Tangled fandom, but Varian just frustrates me.  A LOT!  Like, his unsafe scientific practices, his inability to consider the consequences of his actions, and refusal to take responsibility for his actions when things inevitably backfire due to his own incompetence or lack of patience drives me up the fucking wall!  I’ve had to deal with so many people like him in real life that it takes everything in me not to scream at him for being such a dumbass while watching episodes with him.  I appreciate him for what he does within the series, but his character flaws hit a little too close to home for me to find him enjoyable or want to do much with him in my own fan works. (But who knows maybe he’ll get the redemption arc in season 3 that everyone is hoping for and will change my mind.)

MY ‘YOU’RE PIECE OF TRASH, BUT YOU’RE STILL A FAVE’ FAVE: idk if any of the characters I actually like even qualify as trash… so N/A

MY ‘BEAUTIFUL CINNAMON ROLL WHO DESERVES BETTER THAN THIS’ FAVE: King Edmund!  Poor guy lost his wife, made a tough as Hell call to try to save his kingdom’s citizens at the cost of being able to raise his son, spent 25 long years all by himself in a giant castle with only some birds and the magic opal that caused the whole mess for company, and then when his son finally returns, Eugene just thinks of him as crazy and hardly wants anything to do with him!  Please season 3 just let this man  be happy!

MY ‘THIS SHIP IS WRONG, NASTY, AND MAKES ME WANT TO CLEANSE MY SOUL, BUT I STILL LOVE IT’ SHIP: N/A  I really only ship New Dream.

MY ‘THEY’RE KIND OF CUTE, AND I LOWKEY SHIP THEM, BUT I’M NOT TOO INVESTED’ SHIP:  Lance’s one-sided crush on Adira is kinda cute, but I hope it only is ever one-sided, cause them actually getting together would be kind creepy since Adira is probably close to TWICE Lance’s age.  Like, I don’t mind a big age gap in my ships, but unless it involves different species and bizarre lifespans, i usually have a cut-off of 15 years, and pairing someone with a character who is old enough to be their PARENT is a for sure “Hell No” from me.  So, it’s cute as a one-sided crush on Lance’s side, but it’s not something I ever want to be canon.

[shima-draws]

OKAY SO I just finished watching the Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure premiere and it was so good, I have many things I’d like to share about it so, SPOILERS AHEAD!

First, I LOVE how they addressed Raps and Eugene’s relationship. Like it’s not picture perfect all the time!! But they’re there for each other through thick and thin, and they’re paving their own future together and it’s so inspiring <3

Also the fact that Eugene got so many singing solos this episode? God fucking bless. He has the voice of an angel and I’m so glad we get to hear him sing more because he freaking deserves more songs for himself

All of the character designs this episode were GREAT. I honestly thought Vex would have a bigger role but yeah she was cool! And I loved Stallion’s design, she’s very pretty and I understand why her and Eugene were a thing haha. I’m sure she’ll be back in later episodes, gotta get revenge for poisoning her dad after all lol

And Adira?? I love her so much? She’s such a badass and I can totally see her being Varian’s mom--not sure if it’s true but that would be awesome. She’s so mysterious but also super sassy and sarcastic and god I stan for her already That flashback with Quirin was pretty interesting too, seems that Quirin and Adira were part of something huge, which means we’re definitely gonna get more of a history with them and with Varian tying into the equation too!

I’m sad Var didn’t show up this episode but I know they’re gonna give it a while til we see how he’s faring. I just hope Frederic and Arianna are treating him well in that dungeon :’(

Overall it was an awesome episode, all the new songs are GREAT and I really enjoyed all the character interactions! And the fact that Eugene literally said I love you to both Rapunzel AND Lance made my day. He cares about them both so much sob

[perfectirishgifts]

5 ‘Star Trek’ Actors Are Out LGBTQ, But How Many Are Nerds? This Guy!

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5 ‘Star Trek’ Actors Are Out LGBTQ, But How Many Are Nerds? This Guy!

Actor Anthony Rapp plays Paul Stamets in the Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 episode Terra Firma, Part … [] 1

Note: For fans who have not yet seen this week’s episode of Star Trek: Discovery, there are spoilers ahead.

“I don’t think it’s a secret, I’ve been a nerd,” said actor Anthony Rapp. “I’ve been very outspoken about that.”

He has. but don’t just take his word for it. Check out the Star Trek: Discovery star’s Twitter feed: Rapp tweets ratings for science fiction and fantasy novels, and most recently: Dungeons and Dragons games with stars of the show and their friends.

That’s of course in addition to Rapp’s tweets promoting social justice, LGBTQ equality and his pro-mask pandemic posts. The Illinois native engages with his fans on a daily basis, and interacts with them about everything from civil rights to politics and theater, and when appropriate, he gets personal.

But when it comes right down to it, Rapp is a nerd. And he’s not alone:

Anthony Rapp as Lt. Commander Paul Stamets and Wilson Cruz as Dr. Hugh Culber of the CBS All Access … [] series, Star Trek: Discovery.

That’s a parody of perhaps the most well-known song from Rent. Rapp starred in the original production on Broadway in 1996 as Mark Cohen, alongside his current co-star Wilson Cruz, who played the part of Angel in the touring production. Together, they play the science fiction franchise’s first regularly appearing gay couple aboard the U.S.S. Discovery, serving aboard a 23rd century starship that in this third season has flown 930 years into the future.

In our present day, the veteran actor of stage and screen — known also for roles in the films A Beautiful Mind and Adventures in Babysitting — is in Toronto, Canada, where he is filming season four of the CBS All Access streamed series. He took a break Wednesday evening to talk about being a nerd, his castmates, his thoughts on acting and LGBTQ representation in Star Trek.

This interview was edited for clarity and space limitations. Scroll down to watch the video of the full interview. Note: if you have not yet viewed this week’s episode of Star Trek: Discovery, Terra Firma Part 1, there are spoilers aplenty ahead!

Dawn Ennis: The mirror universe is back!

Anthony Rapp: Yes!

Ennis: How long ago was it you filmed this?

Rapp: Oh, my goodness. Sometime, maybe about a year ago? I want to say, -ish, give or take.

Ennis: The wonders of Hollywood. Your character, Stamets, in the alternate universe, in the Mirror Universe, has a devious plot. Do you remember anything about the idea that you would have what every actor lives for, a glorious death scene?

Michelle Yeoh stars as Empress Georgiou in the Star Trek: Discovery episode, Terra Firma, Part 1

Rapp: Well, it’s not just a glorious death scene, but it’s a glorious death scene at the hands of Michelle Yeoh. You know, when I was first cast in this show, about three and a half, four years ago, one of the first things that was shared with me was that Michelle Yeoh was going to be a part of it. And my jaw just dropped because, I mean, she’s a legend. And you always hear that you shouldn’t meet your heroes because they’ll so often disappoint you. And it’s the exact opposite with Michelle. She is a consummate human being, in every way.

I didn’t get a lot of chances to work opposite her with her directly as part of the show, but we hung out and our cast is very close. We do social things together. And she was always fantastic to talk to and be with.

But to finally get to play opposite her a couple of times over the last season and a half, and then to get killed by her, that’s the sort of “pinch-me” moment that if you’d asked me, when I first saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, I would have looked at you like you were speaking in tongues, because it would have seemed so unlikely that anything like that would ever come my way.

I don’t remember exactly how many times we did the shot. There were a couple of different shots, but one of the main shots was me creeping up behind her, and then she quickly turns and stabs me in the throat. She did that perfectly every time; the knife was incredibly, perfectly situated exactly at the right angle to my throat.

She has an otherworldly gift at such things. We are so lucky to be graced by her.

Ennis: You have a theatrical background which plays into this particular episode in which you are the the narrator of a big production. And I imagine that you must weekly call upon your theatrical skills, because acting on the small screen is not small.

Rapp: I think other actors have said something like this, that acting on a show like Star Trek is in some ways at times like acting in Shakespeare or a period piece, where the language can be really heightened. Like when you’re in Hamlet, you’re talking to a ghost; When you’re in Star Trek, you’re talking to an alien.

Some of our training comes from inhabiting any kind of fantastical realm or world, or you’re doing Midsummer Night’s Dream, or the Scottish play, and then also having the heavy lift of of technical language, or language that I would never utter in my normal life.

I think a lot of actors who grow up only doing film and television sometimes can feel a little nervous about taking big risks, because there’s this notion that when you’re on film, things have to be small, quiet. I think in Trek, people like Patrick Stewart, William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, they had tremendous theatrical backgrounds. Brent Spiner, too, and that that absolutely served them incredibly well.

Left to right: Brent Spiner, William Shatner and Patrick Stewart, Leonard Nimoy with William … [] Shatner.

Ennis: You stand on the shoulders of giants, that’s for sure. Now, you and Wilson Cruz, you play partners on the show, and now you each have a death scene that you can compare notes. And of course, they’ll be fans who say, ‘”Oh, they’re killing off the gays again!” Any thoughts on those two things?

Rapp: Well, I think A., in the Mirror Universe, who knows what anyone is? I think everyone’s a little bit pansexual, probably. And B., Yeah, not to give any more spoilers away, but you know this version of the Mirror Universe we’re seeing is also in some ways a mirror of the mirror.

So it’s not canon in quite the same way as what we saw in season one. It’s another peeling back of the curtain, and the layers of of these mirrors. But back in season one, Stamets was a part of the plot to overthrow Georgiou. So this is just the natural extension of that.

Blu del Barrio plays Adira on Star Trek: Discovery

Ennis: Those you follow you and Wilson on social media have seen that people are starting to call Wilson the Space Papi and you the Space Dad to Blu del Barrio’s character, to Adira. Not being a parent yourself, is that a stretch?

Rapp: Well, I’ve been a parent to pets and animals my whole life. I’m not equating Blu with a pet or an animal. But, you know, from the first day of meeting Blu, I was there for their very first day that they ever set foot on a professional film or television set. Jonathan Frakes was directing the episode, their first scene on camera, when I confront them at the foot of the ladder: “What are you doing up there?”

Ennis: No pressure or anything.

Rapp: And, you know, but Jonathan and I would be watching them work. They’re so incredible, already and with no experience in this arena, in training and acting experience.

Having been on a set for the first time when I was 15: It’s a little weird. And then there’s all kinds of strange things happening. It’s easily intimidating and strange and bizarre, and you have to absorb a lot. They just hit it right out of the park right away. and came at it with such incredible grounded and human energy. So I fell in love with Blu right then and there. Then I just naturally gravitated toward being a kind of, I don’t know, mentor, protective big older brother, dad, kind of thing. That felt very natural to me, personally. That was something that was very easy to “live into,” because I felt that so naturally anyway.

Anthony Rapp as Lt. Commander Paul Stamets and Wilson Cruz as Dr. Hugh Culber of the CBS All Access … [] series, Star Trek: Discovery.

Ennis: As a pioneer in Star Trek, in terms of being an out gay man, playing a gay character, in a relationship with another man, do you see that the unfolding of having non-binary characters like Adira and a trans character, even in a ghostly version, how does that make you feel in terms of the craft and and our community?

Rapp: I think it’s long overdue. I’ve said things like this with you before, probably as we’ve talked over the years: There were times when people within the world of creating Trek were agitating for these kinds of characters to be a part of the fabric, off screen and on screen, but there was resistance from networks or whatever. So, it just took too long, frankly.

Blu del Barrio, left, with Ian Alexander in the Star Trek: Discovery episode, “Forget Me Not”

But the fact that it has come about makes it feel earned. I just feel incredibly lucky and proud that Wilson and I first were entrusted with carrying that mantle. Then, Tig Notaro coming on board, now, of course, Blu and Ian [Alexander].

Blu and Ian are quintessential Gen Z kids, and I am going to say “kids” with total affection and respect. They’re really young, but they’re so much a part of this younger generation which truly is willing to break down all kinds of barriers, and just shake things up in the most grounded way.

Recognizing that all of these different facets of identity and expression and being deserved to be seen, and all light needs to be shining everywhere, at all times. I’m sure that there are aspects of it that sometimes might be a little overwhelming or intimidating, but they are so up for it, and so ready to to carry that that mantle.

Ennis: When I spoke to Tig, they reminded me that her character had lost her wife in the battle of the binary stars. And she addressed a question from a fan about whether the knocking of heads between your characters was carried through into real life. And she said, “I certainly hope not!” She said, “I think that we get along just great.”

Rapp: Yes, I love Tig. I was first was introduced to her with the piece that she’d done when she was first diagnosed with cancer.

Commander Jett Reno, played by actor, podcaster and comedian Tig Notaro, left, with Lt. Commander … [] Paul Stamets, portrayed by actor Anthony Rapp, appearing in the ‘Star Trek: Discovery’ third season episode, ‘Die Trying’ on CBS All Access.

I wasn’t warned what it was about. And my mom passed away from cancer, but just like immediately, I was just so taken by it. And some of the things I was so taken by was her honesty, authenticity, and also humor in the face of it, but just her willingness to be totally authentically herself, and share every aspect of it.

That’s something that I really strive to do with my life. So when I heard that she would be part of the show, I crossed my fingers, this is one of my heroes: “I hope she’s as cool as she seems!” And she absolutely was. We’ve had we’ve got a complete blast. And I really love when she’s on set, and I wish she could be on set more often.

Ennis: What’s next for you? I know you’re so busy shooting the next season of Discovery, but what other projects do you have going on? Anything on the horizon?

Rapp: There’s a sort of small scale thing. I got invited by Swapna Krishna, who’s a writer. She’s written for my SyFy Wire, I believe, and other outlets. She invited me to contribute a story to an anthology that she’s editing called Sword Stone Table, in which writers are taking the Arthurian legends and doing spins on them. That would make them multicultural, LGBTQ, finding ways to adapt some aspect of the legend. Any aspect. That was the only brief: the Arthurian legends, find some way to adapt it to a story you want to tell. I’m incredibly honored to do that and I worked really hard on a story that I’m proud of. It turned out pretty well, I think. And so that’s going to be coming out sometime in the spring or summer.

But not now. We’re very much in the thick of season four production right now in Toronto.

Ennis: Thank you for taking time away from that. Please extend to everybody in the Star Trek: Discovery family, our eternal thanks. I know this seems like I’m blowing gas up your tailpipe, but y’all have brought back Star Trek, real Star Trek, and made us all excited again.

Rapp: Thank you. It’s an honor.

Watch a video of the full interview with Anthony Rapp, in which he discusses playing Dungeons and Dragons, the real Paul Stamets, more thoughts on acting and advice for beginners as well as those hoping to do so professionally.

12/11 Wilson Cruz was inaccurately listed as starring in the original production of Rent on Broadway, but first appeared in a touring company production. Wilson Jermaine Heredia originated the role of Angel and won a Tony Award for his portrayal.

From Diversity & Inclusion in Perfectirishgifts