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littlemisslol-fic · 2 years

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Day Six: Future

Summary: My submissions for Effin' Varigo week! Big thanks to battybatzgirl for setting it up! Hugo and Varian have been dating for three years, and are finally ready to take their relationship to somewhere a lot more serious. However, the world has other plans. With Hugo's proposal in shambles, and Varian focused on saving their friends, they think things can't really get any worse.

They would be wrong.

Prompts are Family ‧ Firework ‧ Fever ‧ Flirt ‧ Fight/Forgive ‧ Future ‧ and Free Day!

Notes: The problems come to an explosive finale

Hugo’s half ready to just give up and jump off the waterfall again.

They’d been dragged all the way back to the meadow. Hugo’s leg is fucking killing—even with the two goons holding him basically carrying him for the last mile. Varian was being pushed along right in front of him, bullied and jostled like an unruly toddler. It boils Hugo’s blood, but for once he knows better than to open his big, stupid mouth.

It’s hard. He wants to tell them to lay off, to scream at them to fuck off, get away from us, but he holds his tongue. Their hands are tied—literally and figuratively. The awkward feeling of having both arms tied behind his back also doesn’t help this whole situation.

Varian’s spine is tense when they arrive back at the meadow. It’s mostly the same, still beautiful and idyllic and calm, but there’s been obvious upheaval. Massive craters are scattered around, cutting through the grass and showing the dark, loamy soil underneath. Deep wounds across the earth. Even the sky today is much cloudier, cutting the sun in rolling shade. The cart is still there, though Max has been roped to a tree to keep the horse from running.

And before it all stands the Baron.

There’s no sign of the others. It’s both a blessing and a curse—they’re still in the meadow, but where? Are they okay?—but Hugo can’t help but focus on the massive man in front of them. He stands before the two… wait, two? Two carts.

Their wagon is there, yes, joined by what is very obviously a stolen police prisoner transport. Hugo will bet dollars to donuts that the princess, Eugene, and Lance are in there; the way multiple guards circle around it like vultures over a kill cements the thought.

The Baron smiles as they approach. The blond of his hair is like straw, thin and cracking in the wind. It’s obvious that he’s getting old, probably older than Donella, but the way his body bleeds strength makes him threatening to Hugo in a way most old men aren’t. It’s all capped off by a splatter of green sores that cover half of his face; they look painful, the infection constantly cracking the skin every time the man moves. Hugo swallows thickly at the sight.

He and Varian are shoved down next to the fallen tree. Hugo’s leg kills at the roughness; he has to bite his cheek to keep from crying out. At the very least they’re side by side again; Varian scowls up at the man holding them hostage—gods he’s so brave. Hugo personally feels ready to bury himself alive.

Varian’s arm is warm next to him. It’s the only comfort he has as the Baron strides forward and crouches in front of them. There’s a pregnant pause between the three of them. Varian’s obviously playing a game of wills, more of a who’s going to break first, but Hugo honestly just wants to curl up and die. Eventually the Baron sucks in a long breath, smiling widely. The noxious green skin cracks with the motion, the infected pores leaking nauseatingly. Hugo’s going to throw up if that keeps happening.

“Well boys,” the man says in his deep, gravelly voice, “you definitely gave my men a run for their money. It was clever to stay away from the river—but I guess I should have expected as much from you two.”

Varian doesn’t say a word. Hugo follows his example. Donelle had always told him to shut up during times like this, so… sure, let’s give it a try.

The man doesn’t seem upset by the silence. “Smart, yes, but not smart enough. Unfortunately you boys are going to be staying with us for a while, but don’t fret. I can be a gracious host.”

Hugo feels the body next to him tense. “Where are the others?” Varian asks.

“Oh, so you can talk.” The group around them laughs at their boss’s joke. “Why, are you looking for a family reunion? I suppose I can oblige.”

He waves a massive finger, like how one would call a waiter, and his men snap to attention. Hugo can’t see past the mountain of a man, but he hears a series of shouts from familiar voices and the noises of a struggle. Varian wiggles to try and see around their captor—whatever he sees must not be good. He goes frightfully pale.

The Baron stands, walking to the side. Hugo’s stomach sinks as their friends are dragged out from the prisoner carriage—had they been in there for the last two days? Horrifying—and are brought front and center. All of them are bound the same as Hugo and Varian are. Not good.

“Shit,” Varian whispers. Eugene spits something very UN-princely, kicking his feet and trying to take out anyone’s ankles he can reach. Rapunzel walks with dignity, or as much as she can have with her arms tied. Lance has just completely dead-weighted himself, content to let the thugs struggle to drag him through the dirt. What a king.

They end up knocked to their knees in front of the two alchemists. It’s not good. It’s not even close.

“Varian? Hugo?” Rapunzel looks so, so distraught to see them. “I thought I told you to run!?”

“Tried it, didn’t get very far.” Hugo sighs. He wiggles the foot of his fucked-up leg. “Got a bit of an owie.”

“Shit, kid.” Eugene sounds concerned. “That’s not looking so good, is it—?”

“Probably not. Can’t tell for sure.”

Eugene’s frown deepens, but any other conversation cuts off as the Baron makes himself known again.

“Well, now that we’re all here, first thing’s first. Search them.”

Hugo squawks at the feeling of hands patting him down. They quickly turn out his vest pockets, then his jacket—but then they reach his pants, meaning they’ll find…

Oh shit!

“Put it down!” Hugo snaps as one of the grunts pulls out the ring box. Hugo flicks a nervous glance at Varian, but thankfully his boyfriend is too busy trying to kick Weasel’s stupid hat off his head to really notice what’s going on with Hugo. Thank the Maker. His gaze flicks back to the goon in front of him and the heat of anger boils high as the man opens the box with a teasing look.

“Give it back,” the blond hisses. “I’ll fucking kill you—”

The goon only smirks and closes the box with a little snap. Hugo’s anger hardens into rage as the man stuffs the ring into his own pocket, tutting with a mocking tone. “Pretty ring,” he says, “should get me a good price. Should have taken better care of your things, boy.”

Hugo’s heart sinks as the ring disappears, and his future along with it. Fuck, fuck! He needs that back, needs to give it to Varian—fucking hell!

Weasel’s finished searching Varian, pulling out what looks like a few chunks of willow bark and the matches. The alchemist kicks at him, successfully hitting Weasel in the knee, before the man retreats with his meager gains.

“They’ve got nothing on ‘em,” the man says. The man who stole Varian’s ring stands as well, shrugging.

“Same here.”

Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuck. Hugo grits his teeth and levels as much of a glare as he can muster to the man. When he gets out of here, and he fucking will, that man’s dead. Dead. Hugo didn’t keep that little box safe through all this for it to get stolen. Not in a million years.

He shifts his good leg to try and relieve some of the pressure on the busted one, only to pause at the feeling of something in his boot. Oh. Oh holy shit.

The knife.

Varian had given him the knife back in the cabin. Hugo had stuffed it into his boot for safekeeping. And then man who’d searched them had missed it, too busy thinking about the ring. A wicked feeling springs up in Hugo’s stomach. They might not be out of the woods yet, but this?

This he can work with.

But he keeps it quiet for now. It’s not a good time—not with everyone watching. He’ll have to time it right… and then he can totally fucking murder the guy who stole his ring.

The Baron smiles down at the five of them. He looks like a miser counting gold; it puts a sick taste in the back of Hugo’s throat.

“With that out of the way, here’s how it’s going to play out,” the man rumbles. “I have unfinished business with Rider and Strongbow.” Lance and Eugene flinch at their names. “And as for the princess and Donella’s boy here, well I know a couple people who would give anything to have you two back in one piece.” The man laughs, focusing on Hugo with a smug grin. “How is ol’ Donella anyways? She’s been running circles around us for years; I can’t wait to see the look on her face once she finds out you’re in our company, boy.”

It makes Hugo want to scream, the idea of this guy threatening his mentor. Mother. Mom-tor. Whatever.

Either way, if Donnie gets a ransom note with Hugo’s name on it he knows she’ll pay it. She’ll bitch the entire time, but she’ll pay it. And then she’ll shake him so hard his brain will leak out of his ears. It’s not a favorable outcome for Hugo, and it’s one he’d like to avoid thank you.

It also looks like Varian had been right on the money. Rapunzel and Hugo for ransom, Lance and Eugene for a statement about double crossers… but Varian’s fate is still uncertain. It’s almost worse, not knowing.

Varian must have the same thought. He shifts awkwardly; his elbow bumps against Hugo’s just a brush, but it lights Hugo’s skin aflame. It’s also, unfortunately, enough to draw the Baron’s attention.

“And then we have the Alchemist,” the man says. The problem is, he doesn’t say it as an insult, like Hugo might have a thousand lifetimes ago. He says it like it’s praise. Varian flinches at the name like it’s a slap.

The Baron whistles a small tone. “You know, from the stories I thought you were bigger. And older.”

Varian bristles. “Sorry to disappoint.”

That gets a laugh out of their captor. “Eh, good things in small packages. For you, my young friend, I have a job.”

“Pass.”

If the Baron’s insulted, he doesn’t show it. “I’m afraid you don’t get much choice. Well we’d prefer you to agree, it’s not important. I have things I want made, and you’re going to make them. Easy.”

Varian’s face goes downright murderous. “I said I’ll pass.”

The Baron frowns, but it’s more mocking than an actual expression. “Such a shame. I guess Donella won’t be getting her boy back, after all.” He starts to draw a knife from his belt. Hugo shrinks at the sudden glare the man sends his way. Varian goes pale, flinching at the sight of the blade.

“Wait—” he stutters, “—wait, okay, fine! No one needs to get hurt.”

Eugene starts to say something, an argument surely, but he’s stopped when one of the grunts kicks him in the stomach. Varian’s eyes go wide, desperate.

“If you promise to let Hugo go, I’ll build whatever you want.”

The Baron smiles like it’s his lucky day. “Glad you had a change of heart. In that case, welcome to the crew, Alchemist.” He looks out to his men, all of whom snap to attention. “We’ll head out at dawn tomorrow,” the man announces. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

Hugo does his best to keep quiet. The knife in his boot burns with promise, with a looming presence. The blond takes another long look at the man with Hugo’s future in his pocket.

Oh yeah, tonight would be a celebration for sure.

——— ✧ ———

The sun sets slower than Hugo would hope.

The Baron’s men sure seem ready to party. While the man mostly retreats to his own caravan, his crew easily start to break out wine and gin, passing it around and getting steadily drunker.

Hugo testingly pulls at the rope around his wrists. No give, as expected—and even worse is that both he and Varian are tied to a tree that really has no chance of giving way. Varian, next to him, huffs with the movement as it pulls on his wrists.

“Ow,” his boyfriend whines. “What’s that for?”

“Trying to find a weakness,” Hugo mumbles back.

Varian seems content with that for an answer. He slouches into the tree and goes back to watching the nearest fire. The alchemist seems almost listless, so despondent in the face of being threatened into casual inventor-slavery. Hugo bumps his shoulder in solidarity before casting his gaze elsewhere.

Eugene and Co are tied around another tree. Lance, bless his soul, had tried to pull their tree right out of the ground—he’d failed, of course, but it was incredibly fun to watch. Rapunzel and Eugene are whispering to each other, who knows about what.

Around them the men continue to make merry and drink themselves stupid. The moon raises higher and higher in the sky, a ticking time bomb looming over them all.

Though it takes ages—too fucking long, waiting is like slowly grinding his own teeth into nubs—eventually the party begins to die. If Hugo had to wager he’d bet it’s around midnight, maybe later.

A majority of the men are finally falling asleep. They’ve passed out in large groups around the fires, lumped into somewhat normal sleeping arrangements. A few stragglers are wrapping up for the night at a distant fire, nearly twenty-five meters away.

Probably to keep from waking up the boss, Hugo thinks. It’s a good a chance as any.

He starts to wiggle. Slowly he manages to get his good leg awkwardly bent under him; his bound fingers just graze the top of his boot. Another inch or two should do.

Varian snuffles awake next to him. “What’re you… doing?” he mumbles. Adorable.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Hugo whispers, “I have an idea.”

That chases away the last of the sleep from Varian’s mind. “What? What idea?” At least he’s keeping his voice down.

“The knife,” Hugo breathes. “The one from the cabin. It’s in my boot. They missed it.”

Varian’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit.”

Hugo only smirks and wiggles his leg again. It’s closest to Varian, who also shuffles to give Hugo more lax on the rope keeping them tied to the tree. So close… just another bit…

“Fuck yes!” Hugo gasps as he tugs the pocketknife from his boot. “Maker above, it’s about time.”

It’s barely more than a whisper but Varian still shushes him. Hugo only smiles, deftly flicking the knife open and starting to saw at their bindings. It’s a little awkward, seeing as he’s doing it behind his own back, but he can make it work.

“See, I’m a great boyfriend,” Hugo mutters to himself, “who else can say they always have a stabby thing in their boot, huh?”

Varian snickers and presses a kiss to Hugo’s cheek. It’s a little awkward, but it’s more of a victory trophy than Hugo’s used to getting.

“You’re a fantastic boyfriend,” Varian grins, “And I’ll be sure to reward you if you can get us out of here properly.”

Hugo starts sawing like his life depends on it.

The ropes aren’t insanely thick. They fall away quickly, dropping to the dirt. Both Varian and Hugo breathe a sigh of relief as their wrists can finally return to their proper places—Hugo’s shoulders have been killing for the last hour or so.

“Okay,” he whispers. Hugo’s quick to pass the knife to Varian, who blinks. “Go free the peanut gallery and get them into the cart with Max. Hopefully We can book it before they all wake up.”

Varian’s eyebrows screw together. “What about you?”

“I have something I need to grab. Don’t worry about it, just focus on getting the others. Easy peasy, right?”

His boyfriend looks doubtful but nods all the same.

“Easy peasy. Sure.”

——— ✧ ———

Hugo’s a man on a fucking mission tonight.

He slips soundlessly through the group of men, searching. That motherfucker has to be here somewhere.

The face of the man who’d stolen his ring is burned into Hugo’s retinas. Hugo scans each grunt, looking for the one. The first ring of grunts is a failure, as is the second, but the third… there he is.

In the distance Varian’s already got the motley crew free. Hugo can see them all starting to pile into the cart. Eugene’s hooking up Max—and Hugo’s running out of time.

But the man’s here. Right in front of Hugo’s feet, sleeping like a baby. A drunk-ass, passed out baby. Delightful.

Either way. Hugo’s pretty sure the ring’s in one of the man’s coat pockets—easy enough to grab.

Hugo crouches. He winces at the pressure it puts on his busted leg, but he still starts to reach forward. There’s a lump in one of the pockets… surely…?

Behind him, Max snorts once. It’s not loud enough to wake anything, but it’s as much of a signal as Hugo will get. He needs to hurry.

His hands shake as he gets closer to dipping into the man’s pocket. What if it’s not in there? His what-if, lost to him like so much else.

His fingers dip into the man’s pocket. Hugo breathes a sigh when his fingers graze crushed velvet—only for the noise to turn into a gasp as the man snorts awake oh shit!

The grunt’s eyes blink in confusion for only a second before they zero in on Hugo’s horrified face. He snarls something about escaped but Hugo doesn’t stick around to listen. His fingers close around the box and he yanks his future out of the man’s pocket before turning to run.

There’s more shouting behind him. All the men are starting to wake up, alarm bells being rung. Horses bray.

But ahead of it all, Hugo focuses on a pair of frantic blue eyes and an offered hand leaning out of a familiar cart.

“Hugo!” Varian cries. No need to be quiet now. The others hover around Varian’s shoulders, shouting at him to run, asshole!

He’s never run so fucking fast in his life. Though his leg aches and his lungs burn, Hugo fucking runs, spurred on by the feeling of weight in the palm of his hand.

Varian reaches farther. Max startles and starts to move, slow enough for the blond to catch them but not enough to be caught.

They’re so close. Hugo’s only a few feet away from Varian; the alchemist looks so desperate as he reaches out, his hand splayed wide.

“C’mon!” Varian cries. His face is so pale, so panicked. “Hugo!”

The thief throws a thin hand out. It barely grazes Varian’s, so close yet so far—and behind him, he hears the shouting grow closer. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!

Varian looks ready to scream. Hugo tries one last time, putting his all into a final burst of speed. For a frightening second he thinks it’s not enough, that his fingers will just brush Varian’s and he’ll be left behind with the people who wish them harm, trapped like a rat in a nest—

But he feels warmth on his palm. A strong grip.

And Varian starts to pull. Hugo’s tugged right up and into the back of their cart, nearly toppling right over himself, but he’ll take a bit of discomfort for the feeling of solid wood under his face.

“Go, Max!” Eugene hollers from the driver’s seat. There’s an answering whinny before the cart jostles. There’s a swooping feeling, one of acceleration, before the trees beside them start to fly past. Hugo sucks in another breath, gasping after his run, and looks back with a small huff.

The Baron’s men are still in chaos trying to orient themselves. They’re like headless chickens, scattered and disorganized. It’s good; they’ll have much more of a chance of making it out of here if they’re not followed.

Hugo feels a set of hands on his shoulders and the world tilts. Suddenly he’s sitting upright, facing a frantic Varian.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Your leg?”

“Yep, nope, and owie,” Hugo grins. Varian looks half ready to strangle him but instead graces Hugo with a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

There’s another shout from the group behind them. It seems the Baron’s woken up, the man leaning out of his carriage and glaring at them. He’s getting smaller quickly as Max sprints away.

But they’re not out of the woods yet.

Literally and metaphorically; some of the men have finally gotten their shit together and are hopping on their horses. Their lead won’t last long with five people and a cart against one rider on a horse. They’ll need a distraction.

Varian seems to be thinking the exact same thing. He starts to paw under the benches, frantic. Hugo starts the same; they’d been in more than one cart chase before, thank you, they’re seasoned professionals by now. Under the bench Hugo’s hand hits wood, wood, more wood and—

Ting.

Metal.

His eyes widen at a familiar feeling. He tugs, pulling out the butchered version of project obsidian. Hugo lets out a wild, evil little giggle—he probably sounds deranged.

Varian’s head whips around at the sound. He knows it well. His eyes go wide at the sight of the gun.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, that could work.”

Hugo lets an evil smile curl across his lips.

“It will indeed,” he croons. It’s with a quick movement that he settles the gun on his shoulder, aiming out the back.

Rapunzel and Lance quickly skitter to the other side of the cart, hiding behind the alchemists. Eugene doesn’t even register what’s happening. Probably better, the guy’s got enough to worry about. Thing are about to get so very explosive.

Hugo lines up his shot, waiting. Varian sits to his side, reaching over and flicking a lever or two.

“They didn’t even take the range inhibitor off,” he mutters. “Fucking amateurs.”

That gets another snicker. Gods Hugo almost missed this; a little destruction is always good for the soul. The cross section of the gun slowly lines up with the main path.

Hugo takes a deep breath and holds it. His finger wavers for only a second before he pulls the trigger.

The gun’s kickback isn’t a small one. The blond’s nearly knocked on his ass, but Varian offers a steady hand as a rocket bursts from the barrel. The fweeeeeeee-POP is so much louder this close to the thing—and the purple smoke is close to blinding.

In the distance, the sound of screaming.

As the smoke clears it’s easy to see that Varian’s settings made a hell of a difference. The path, once a flat, simple cut through the thick trees, has been totally uprooted. It must be a meter deep dip in the earth, cutting the entire road in two.

The horses of the Baron’s men all whinny in fear as their riders try to force them down it. A brave few try to jump the crater only to fall in. Hugo winces when one guy eats dirt falling off his horse.

“They’re not making it past that any time soon,” Varian says flatly. “Unless they want to hack through the brush and go around.”

“It’ll take ‘em hours,” Hugo agrees with a smirk. “What a horrible tragedy.”

“Just terrible.”

Rapunzel, bless her, only sighs. Eugene starts to curse up front, snarling, angry things about explosions and his old, frail heart. Lance laughs something belly-deep. The princess holds her hands out. Hugo obediently drops the gun into them; she shakes her head fondly.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Hugo slouches back against the side of the cart. Max starts to slow now that they’re out of immediate danger. He grins at the princess and shoots her a couple finger guns. His future sits heavy in his pocket.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

#varigo #varian #effing varigo week #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k

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namimikan · 1 year

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i kind of want to voice cast other characters in suitor armor, but i’m def. struggling.

norrix, in my head, i almost want to say he’s david bowie (a la labyrinth), but i’m more inclined to believe like... in his head, that’s what he sounds like

and so i want something a lil more dweeby or something. and my mind went to ralph fiennes (a la rameses in prince of egypt and victor quartermaine in wallace and gromit: curse of the were rabbit) bc i like the... idk. the way i want norrix lose his temper, he sounds slightly more on unhinged? and there are moments when ralph fiennes speaks where it’s like. dang, you don’t want to be near him when he’s panicking. but when he’s in his mostly normal mode, you can hear the restraint, the stuffiness, he’s colder and more aloof and grumpy because he’d rather be studying books, so there’s an impatience to his tone, always slightly on edge and tense. but then idk if the gentleness would come out, when he speaks to lucia?

like i don’t think it’s a complete fit, but when jeremy jordan sings in tangled: the series, as varian, i’m like, oh that could be norrix!!! (but then, is it just bc i like his singing voice? similar ish archtype??) but the problem is that varian is clearly younger than norrix by a decade (varian is like 12), but ohhhhh, when he had his villain arc, i looooved him. but his moments of vulnerability, is just!!! ah, i think i could hear it? if he just lowered his voice a lil more?

(ahaha, david tennant in pirates! an adventures with scientists is cute to imagine as norrix tho! slightly too reedy, but adorbs.)

this is completely miscast, i know, but reimund with a beard always makes me think of brian blessed. but brian blessed does sound regal to me!!! and i think reimund does have a bombastic voice? so something princely sounding... maybe chris pine?

maybe hugh jackman a la missing link or kate and leopold. (he’s cute in flushed away! but not quite right) might suit reimund? bc that’s when jackman really brings out the british rp out.

dang, i haven’t thought about lucia and kirsi at all. but sometimes when lucia is drawn with the blue glow, i think of cate blancett as galadriel as she briefly holds the ring, or idk her in ponyo but i don’t feel like that’s lucia’s regular voice? i almost want to say she sounds like hawkgirl of dcau justice league (& united) or someone like marina sirtis of star trek tng era, but i’m again like. not quite right??? and i wonder if staying with kirsi would make lucia want to change her accent (if fairies do have different accents to humans)??? mia farrow of the last unicorn fame?? gina rodrieguez of carmen sandiego could have that, maybe.

kirsi. idk. i don’t think a regular princess voice suits her. i want someone who sounds like they could be sassy. maybe, like i do think she’s got a bratty side to her, but that’s largely been grown out of as she grows up. so maybe someone like keira knightly, but i’m also like... no... that’s def. not right.

#manhwa blogging #currently: suitor armor

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thewayshedreamed · 3 years

Note

Nessian prompt:

We’re playing truth or dare and I just got dared to sit on your lap for the next two rounds but now I’m sitting on your hard-on and I’m kinda getting turned on cuz the ✨positioning✨. We’re both tryna fix the situation without drawing attention to us but the fidgeting definitely isn’t helping 👀

Thanks for the prompt, Bby! I know you sent it as part of my follower celebration, but it worked so well for @nessianweek Day 4: Rivalry that I couldn't pass it up.

Enjoy!

Warnings for strong language and mature themes. Slightly nsfw.

Nesta didn't know the last time she played Truth or Dare. She thought those days had left her at some point during undergrad, but apparently not. There she was, her last semester of graduate school, somewhat invested in a round of the game. The group had been playing for almost an hour, the drinks they poured becoming more and more stout as the night went on.

Gwyn and Emerie had convinced her to join them for a night out with the others, and to be fair, it had been quite some time since she'd allowed herself a carefree night out. Her sisters and Mor were there, as well as Rhys, Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien. Amren mentioned she would "see how things went", which meant she and Varian were staying in to fulfill their own agenda. There was no doubt that was for the best since their activities would likely scar them all.

It was Mor's turn, and her mischievous smile turned on her girlfriend. "Truth or Dare, Em?"

Emerie considered it for a moment, making a show of staring at the ceiling. One of the guys made a sound similar to a ticking clock, but she paid them no mind.

"Truth."

"Okay," Mor drawled, taking a long sip of wine. "Fuck, Marry, Kill; for Rhys, Azriel, Cassian."

Emerie's eyes grew wide, snapping to Feyre and back to Mor. Nesta dared to chuckle at her friend's tight position, earning a pointed glare reserved for the worst of traitors.

"Don't hesitate on my account," Feyre giggled, resting her head on Rhys' shoulder. "I'm curious."

"That's not a fair one!" Emerie argued, gesturing with her hands. "The answer is none of the above, on all counts. For more than one reason."

The three men had the audacity to look miffed at her rejection, even though none of them had any interest in Emerie. They'd all known each other too long for any blurred lines. Mor leaned heavily against her, a look of apology in her rounded, brown eyes.

"Fair enough," she conceded, pressing a kiss to Emerie's cheek.

"That's not how it works!" Cassian challenged. It was unclear whether his ego or strict principles motivated his outburst.

Nesta fought the urge to roll her eyes, to rise to the challenge in his voice like she usually did. But Emerie was her friend, and she wasn't going to take him pushing her lying down. The words left her with more snark than usual.

"Oh, would you come off it?"

His eyes snapped in her direction, locking in on her face like a predator circling prey. "Let me guess. You have an opinion."

Nesta's blood boiled, despite the fact that she told herself Cassian wouldn't get under her skin the next time they were around each other. She was 0 for... hundreds at that point.

"She answered it truthfully, so I don't see the problem."

"It's the way the question was framed, though. It's a game within the question. There were three options. 'None of the above' wasn't one of them."

Nesta loosened the reins on her eye rolling. Cassian was good for that. "No one made that rule."

"Sweetheart, the rules are pretty clear. But if you want to make sure they stay nice and loose so you can back out later, I get that."

Emerie cleared her throat, eager to redirect his challenge before the two of them escalated. "Show us how it's done, then. Truth or Dare, Cassian?"

His attention lingered on Nesta a moment longer, a familiar glint in his eyes. Her blood heated for an entirely different reason, and she was sure to berate it for doing so.

"Dare."

"I dare you to kiss Azriel," she said, grinning around the rim of her glass. "On the mouth."

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, resigned to his fate. He knew Cassian better than anyone, and it was only a matter of time.

Without hesitation, Cassian said, "Oh, done. Tongue?"

A chorus of laughter drowned out Azriel incredulous curse in Cassian's direction. When she finally recovered, Emerie took mercy on Azriel and excused any tongue. Cassian didn't hesitate to lean toward Azriel, cupping him roughly by the back of the neck and planting a full kiss to his mouth. There were catcalls all around; not at all needed in the encouragement department.

Azriel turned his attention to Feyre, fully succumbing to his soft spot for her and letting her off on the easiest Truth ever. It was something to do with who she would most like to draw or paint of the lot of them, excluding Rhys. No surprises on her choice of Azriel himself, but to his credit, he didn’t preen at the compliment. He humbly nodded as if anyone alive wouldn’t want to catch those angles on canvas.

“Nesta,” Feyre called, interrupting another quip she had been prepared to launch Cassian’s way. She couldn’t remember why. “Truth or Dare?”

She took a long pull of her drink and licked her bottom lip. “Dare.”

“Hmm,” Feyre considered, and Nesta had to admit to being slightly terrified of how diabolical sibling could be in a game such as the one she played. It didn’t take long for her to realize she’d been right to feel that way. “I think you two need to learn to get along. I dare you to sit on Cass' lap. Minimum of two full turns.”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. Cassian’s red hot challenge bore a hole into the side of her head, and all she could hear was his taunt from before.

Sweetheart, the rules are pretty clear. But if you want to make sure they stay nice and loose so you can back out later, I get that.

She snapped her attention to his face, suppressing the urge to throttle him for the narrow-eyed smirk he offered. Angling his large body backward, he draped a muscled arm across the back of the couch and eased his thighs open. Cassian wouldn't be the one to back down, she realized.

"Fine." Nesta threw back the rest of her drink and set it roughly on the nearby table.

Cassian's eyes were sparkling, his smile feline. He tapped his thigh with his free hand to goad her, and she wondered if he— if they— would ever tire of the constant challenges. Nesta sauntered over and dropped heavily into the center of his lap, earning a loud oof.

"Fuck, Sweetheart," he fussed, gripped her waist in his large hands to rearrange their position.

The heat of his hands, the scrape of his calluses; they came together to monopolize her focus. She was almost sure that others were amused by their display, but her world was singularly focused.

Cassian cleared his throat while he eased her into a position that better balanced her weight. The tension eased from her thighs as she settled, only for him to shift her again. Nesta let out an exaggerated sigh at his constant fidgeting. The only silver lining to the near motion sickness she'd no doubt endure as a result was the steadiness of his grip against her.

The reason for all his maneuvering revealed itself seconds later. Nesta had been initially impressed with the muscle tone in his thighs, how firm the muscles felt beneath her. They were nothing in comparison to the very obvious hardness pressing against the swell of her ass.

Animated conversation continued around them, and Nesta took the opportunity to turn and offer an accusatory glare. He hissed against the pressure of her movement, sending her eyebrows into her hairline.

"Are you really h—"

"Shh!" Cassian ordered, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Can you not announce that shit to the entire room?"

Nesta blinked incredulously and dragged her tongue against his palm. He grimaced, rubbing his palm against his jeans as if she'd poured acid onto his skin.

"It's not my fault you can't... control that," she hissed.

"Well, shit, Nesta. When's the last time you had a beautiful woman on your lap and had to keep your boner in check?" His whisper was low, frantic. There were words that latched onto her nerves and left goosebumps in their wake, even when she barely heard them.

"It's only two turns," she managed, swallowing against the dryness in her throat. "Then, it'll be a non-issue."

Cassian's hands clung to her hips once more, the delicious grip of them even firmer than before. "You can't get up now; not in front of them." He gestured with a jerk of his chin to the rest of the room. "They're savages."

A laugh bubbled out of Nesta's chest, and surprisingly, it was more due to the unlikely alliance forged by biology than her pleasure in his panic. The irony wasn't lost on her, but she didn't get to dwell on it for long before Cassian started strategizing.

"We're supposed to get along, right?" He paused, waiting for the excessive noise level to settle around them. Someone must have performed a solid dare, and Nesta was mildly concerned that it hadn't managed to be a blip on their radar. "You're gonna have to keep fighting with me."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "To be clear, you want me to argue with you so that we can hide this?" She rocked back into him for emphasis, and a pained sound left him. Nesta was grateful for the small silver lining that was her private arousal, otherwise she and Cassian would be in the same boat. The way his eyelids fluttered didn't help.

"I'm asking your for a small favor. When I get my shit together, you're free to go. I'm not exactly happy about it either."

Another smile teased her lips. "Small?"

"Mother's tits. Just turned around."

Nesta complied, if for no other reason than to hide the chuckle she'd been trying to choke down throughout the conversation. They engaged with the others as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring each other completely until opportunities arose to take opposing stances on anything at all. The rules of the game. Who brought the best drinks. If someone had successfully completed their dare or answered their question. Cassian had been correct in assuming the group would advocate for their continued canoodling since they weren't yet cooperating with one another.

"Nesta," he almost growled, sometime after a dozen turns of their faux discord. "This isn't helping."

She whipped around, noting the pained expression on his face. "Wait, is this working for you?"

Cassian squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger, looking as if he was in as much disbelief as her. The tragic part was that the arguing hadn't curbed her own body's reactions to him, either.

"That's what it looks like."

Nesta didn't cage it then, the full and melodic laughter that shook her shoulders and made her eyes water. He continued bracing his head in his hand while she delighted in his torture.

"That's awfully kinky of you."

"Alright, enough out of you," he grumbled, situating her for the hundredth time. "You have any better ideas?"

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she flicked them away. "I guess your only choice is to wait until the game ends, or someone causes enough commotion for you to adjust and take a break for a few minutes."

Cassian huffed, clearly unimpressed with her tactics.

"You'll just have to trust me, of all people, to keep your secret in the meantime," she stated, turning her attention back to the room.

His only response was a muttered curse before she felt his forehead drop between her shoulder blades.

#nessian #nessian au #nessianweek2021 #nessian week day 4 #day 4: rivalry #nesta x cassian #twsd writes #twsd fics #800 followers celebration

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my-inner-crisis · 2 years

Text

Liability: Chapter 4

Summary: A mating bond is supposed to be sacred, right? It seems to be working out just fine for everyone but him. At the first Solstice Lucien tries to spend with the Inner Circle, just to see his mate, everything goes wrong. The second Solstice is even more of a disaster than the first one. And there seems to be no end to his descent to rock bottom. As Lucien navigates his everchanging bonds with family, old and new friends, and enemies, his thoughts race towards self-destruction, only halted by a mischievous and dangerous glimmer of hope, a thread tying him to reality. And that thread is indestructible. Is that a blessing or a curse?

Chapters

AO3

Warnings: major angst and some promise of adventure in the next chapter. Eris has arrived.

That’s what you get for a tiny sliver of hope creeping up your spine. He wasn’t even angry. The talons of disappointment shot directly into his heart. Why did he have to leave that room just at that moment? Why did he have to see it? He winnowed out of the River House. He would never come back.

All Rhysand heard was the distinct hiss of magic. He stepped outside of his office and Lucien was no longer there. He… winnowed out. Again. The home his mate and newborn were sleeping in, Lucien Vanserra could winnow in and out of. He cast his mind out, searching for those present. Feyre upstairs, with Nyx, Helion accompanied by Amren, Varian and Mor. Azriel and Elain. Azriel and Elain. It all made sense.

He stormed towards the hall and cleared his throat loudly. The pair jumped apart.

“What are you doing?” The High Lord demanded, his eyes flashing violet. Tendrils of dark power rippled from his skin as he waited for Azriel to explain.

“Why is that your business?” Elain challenged, though her cheeks were flushed.

“It is my business when your mate is in this house. How long am I meant to count on his discipline before he snaps?”

Elain folded her arms across her chest. “So what? I’m supposed to live like a nun because I have a mate I don’t want?” Azriel squeezed her shoulder gently.

Rhys ran his hand across his face, his frustration palpable. “He caught you. He winnowed through my wards. All of them. He could’ve just as easily gone for Azriel, which would have been a problem the size of the Moon. Especially if Azriel killed him.”

Elain flinched, looking between the two brothers. She hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “But I’m not obliged to be with him, am I?” Her will was cast in iron. No meandering dreams and ridiculous future possibilities would change her mind.

“He has no claim‒” Azriel started, to protect her from Rhysand’s wrath.

“You, Azriel, should know better,” the High Lord growled, slivers of darkness pouring from him. “He has no claim, as I had no claim, if you need to refresh your memory. Remember what I was like? Does he not deserve at least some decency?”

“I didn’t realize you were so interested in protecting his feelings,” Azriel answered sharply, his hand not leaving Elain’s shoulder.

“I truly don’t care what happens to Lucien Vanserra one way or another,” the High Lord waved a dismissive hand. “He is Feyre’s friend, so she does, which means I shall too. And, if your lust-filled thoughts would subside, you might remember that the male you keep poking and poking incessantly is connected to Autumn, Spring, and well-liked by the people of Dawn, to name a few. Even if his intentions would never be to harm the Night Court, you know Beron would use his son’s mistreatment to advance, to do something brash, to rope in Tamlin, and on top of our problems with Koschei and the human queens, this is the last thing I need to deal with.”

Elain listened carefully, her face sharpening into cold rage. “So… I’m a pawn in your game?”

Rhysand looked at her and for the first time, Elain saw that simmering rage that made Rhysand famous for being the strongest High Lord in existence. “I do not wish to use my mate’s family as pawns. But you’re here, you live here and I expect you to not cause problems.” She opened her mouth to protest but Rhys raised his hand to keep her quiet. “You don’t owe Lucien anything. You don’t owe me anything, you don’t owe me to string him along. But it would be decent and safe to at least reject the male. In that case, even if he loses his wits and tries anything, Azriel, and even I, would be justified to protect you. No one just claims a female in the Night Court.”

Elain pressed her lips into a thin line, frowning at Rhys. “So, what? I just tell him to leave me alone?”

“Do whatever you want, but at least not when he’s right here.” His gaze shifted towards Azriel. “He winnowed out of here. Straight out of here. I wouldn’t have known had I not heard it as I was leaving the office.”

“Do you think him a threat?” Azriel’s voice was cold and deadly, ready to strike at any moment.

“Truthfully, no. I don’t. But you can’t keep doing this until he truly snaps. I don’t want his blood on my hands.”

A few weeks had passed before Lucien requested a meeting with Rhysand. He didn’t go to the River House, he didn’t even really want to step foot into Velaris, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Rhysand invited him to the townhouse that had used to be his home before his family outgrew it.

“I don’t want to report to the shadowsinger,” Lucien muttered, extending his legs as he sank into the armchair Rhsyand had offered him. “Can that be arranged? I can talk to his spies, or deliver news to someone else, write letters, or‒”

“You don’t have to report to him.” Rhysand interrupted his ramblings, his voice not unkind. “I know this is unfortunate enough. You can reach out to me directly and report that way.”

“I’d prefer not to go to the house either. This seems alright. Or I have an apartment in the city as well, for now,” Lucien hummed, pursing his lips. He didn’t know if there’d be a reason to continue paying for that place. He never stayed there. And now he probably never would.

“It can be arranged. If the bond is chafing you, it’s for the best.”

“It’s not chafing me,” Lucien snapped before he could bottle up his rage. His fingers sank into the armrests of the armchair, digging into the leather. “I just don’t wish to be exposed to all of this. It’s shit enough as it is.”

Rhys merely nodded, furrowing his brows. “I wish it wasn’t this way. But you must understand that I will protect her and her choice.”

“Do you see me interfering?” Lucien bit out impatiently, his one good eye lighting up with that fire that burned in his veins. “I haven’t interfered in anything she’s done, ever. I just wish to protect my own sanity, so I would like to avoid putting myself in situations where the Mother is further testing my ability to just swallow all the shit that is being shoveled down my throat.”

“Understandable. And I don’t want to scold you, Lucien. But my mate’s sister, and my brother, they will be protected. Don’t do anything brash,” Rhys warned.

“Of course.” Lucien didn’t push this conversation further. He stood and winnowed out of the room, his magic flashing white as it cut through the wards of yet another home Rhysand thought to be proofed for his family. You’re definitely Helion’s son, he thought to himself. Would this be his burden to uncover? Would he cause more trouble by letting Helion know? Would he even believe him? Would the Lady of the Autumn Court suffer if her secret was revealed? Rhysand rubbed his temples, lost in thought.

Your stress thoughts are distracting me from my class.

I’m sorry, darling. I’ve had a visitor of the red headed variety, he answered his mate.

Eris or Lucien?

He didn’t bother explaining it, he simply showed the conversation to Feyre. There was no reason to keep anything from her. His mate… she was everything. His heart ached at the thought. Lucien’s good eye had held no emotion, it had seemed as dead as the mechanical golden orb clicking about in his head.

I can’t lie, I’m glad Elain is here, with Azriel, but seeing Lucien like this… he used to be a completely different person, Feyre commented, her mind wrapping around his, as if to make sure that her bond was as strong as ever. Rhysand welcomed the gesture, letting comfort and solace wash over him.

I think I would’ve done something brash by now. It’s been nearly three years. I barely managed three months, he confessed. Just thinking about the time when Feyre had still been betrothed to Tamlin, when he had gotten back to Velaris, the way all the joy had been sucked out of his life, as though he couldn’t breathe. I would’ve definitely done something brash by now.

Well, you are a brash person, aren’t you?

She still hasn’t rejected him. I think he’s avoiding being near her.

Maybe he’s trying to avoid the rejection? Feyre mused, earning a sigh from Rhysand.

All this talk of depressing mate issues is making me miss you much more than usual. Cut that lesson short, or I’ll show up with at home High Lady duties to hand out.

He could hear Feyre’s delicious giggle in his mind. He let it wash over him and fill his chest with happiness, like it always did. No other could elicit such a response. Only her, and Nyx now.

This is one of my High Lady duties, Rhys. You’ll just have to wait your turn.

“You look like shit,” Tamlin commented, in his fae form now more often than not. The Spring Court still hasn’t regained its beauty, the land was barren, the magic weakened by remnants of Amarantha’s blight, and the High Lord’s mental state seemed to affect it as well. He was in ruin, and so was his court.

“If you’re one to talk, then I must truly look like shit. I mean, you were covered in fur an hour ago,” Lucien shot back weakly, his voice missing that teasing edge it had once had.

“It’s easier to block the thoughts out that way. Maybe I should turn you into an actual fox for the day, so you can run around and wrangle some rabbits to soothe the rage,” Tamlin suggested with a smile. It was strange to hear it, to be comforted by him, sort of.

“I’ll pass. I don’t have much rage to work out,” he answered simply. Rage would have been easier. More manageable. Tamlin merely nodded, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’ve started clearing out the briars. I don’t want the servants to do it. I want to be perceived as at least a somewhat manageable High Lord to them before I reach out to try to rebuild this court…”

“You need help then?” Lucien asked silently.

“I didn’t say that to trick you into helping me,” Tamlin muttered his answer. “You can report to the Night Court that I’m… improving, I guess, but I don’t wish to‒”

“I want to do something to keep my mind busy. Cutting overgrown thorns seems like it needs a lot of attention, it’ll take a fair amount of time too,” Lucien said, cutting off Tamlin’s rambling.

“If that’s what you want, I could use a hand,” Tamlin nodded, getting to his feet in a swift motion.

Within an hour, Lucien had taken off his emerald jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and started working on cutting off the overgrown briars that dug into the manor’s walls, almost as though they were squeezing the life out of it. It was laborious work, the rose bushes grew into thick branches covered in thorns. They dug into his skin whenever he wasn’t paying enough attention, they required considerable force to cut them off, even with the help of various tools. And the manor… it was all but destroyed under the thick bramble. The entire scene was a metaphor laid on so thick, Lucien wanted to roll his eyes every now and then. The manor in ruin, just like the High Lord who lived in it, the thorns digging into the walls, just like Tamlin’s pain, the neverending briar surrounding the home, the way his old friend’s heart had been engulfed in rage directed at himself as punishment, and at others to keep them away. Lucien wasn’t certain if Tamlin perceived all of that. He seemed lost in thought, pulling the thick branches off the manor’s walls with the incredible physical power the land had gifted him long ago.

“It’s funny,” the High Lord began after some minutes spent in sort of comfortable silence, “the way we both landed in a similar situation with an Archeron girl.”

“It’s not quite the same, is it?” Lucien challenged, annoyance washing over him. “You treated Feyre like shit, Tam.”

“I know I did. And I know you didn’t treat your mate that way, and I know my shortsightedness played a role in your situation now.” Tamlin’s eyes were fixed on the manor’s wall as he spoke. “Other than what I’ve done to Feyre, the thing I regret the most is the way I treated you, especially after we escaped Under the Mountain.” No response came from Lucien, so Tamlin continued. “I am sorry, Lucien. Maybe you don’t wish to come back here, and I respect your decision. But you’re welcome in this court, even if it is in shambles. You’re welcome here.”

“Thanks,” Lucien croaked out after a few moments of silence. He wouldn’t come back, not to live here, not to end up back under his thumb when things would inevitably start looking up. But he wouldn’t make an enemy of Tamlin. He would heal these wounds as he did with others. If not heal them, at least cauterize them so the pain could finally stop.

A few hours of work, efficient but exhausting, and the manor was at least recognizable as the estate it once had been. Evening was upon them by the time they dug the house out from under all that bramble. Tamlin huffed out a chuckle, throwing the last of the branches into the large pile they had been creating over these few hours. “Do me the honors and burn them, please,” he asked and Lucien obliged. His hand filled with the familiar lick of fire, hot but never burning, and he sculpted it into a ball that he dropped atop the briars, igniting them instantly.

“Get your fiddle, maybe the light and the music will attract some of your court,” Lucien suggested. It would be good for optics to see the High Lord celebrate. Tamlin, surprisingly, obliged. Lucien brought up a barrel of wine from the cellar, just in time for his old friend to start playing an oh-so-familiar tune of the Spring Court. Soon, members of the court came by, sentries, curious wraiths and faeries, even some high fae from the nearest settlement. Someone was roasting meat over the large fire, females were singing the song Tamlin was playing, and, Lucien observed with some pride, maybe his people would start believing in the High Lord of Spring again.

He would remember this day as a sunny one, gleaming dimply in the eternal darkness his mind had trapped him in.

Her skin was the most beautiful shade of rich brown, tanned in the gentle autumn sun. Sprawled out on the blanket below him, he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, how long her eyelashes were, brushing against her plump cheeks with such grace. She smelled like freshly cut grass, wild rivers, the chilly air on a cold morning. He had never been so in love before. She had to be his mate, the bond would snap any day now. He would marry her, he would leave his title, his father, his home, everything for her. Two russet eyes met two of dark ebony, he ran his fingers down her cheek gently as he whispered “I love you” for the thousandth time to her. To make sure she knew. She would shudder, wrap her arms around his body with a giggle, tease him about being sappy before whispering the words back to him. And then her body would be under his, like clockwork. Covered in blood, lifeless, the radiant rich skin turning grey, those dark eyes flecked with gold never opening again. Her blood was all over him, her neck… cut so brutally, the life snuffed out of her with such force.

That’s usually when he woke up. Sometimes he woke up screaming. That hadn’t happened in a long time, not that he had noticed anyway. Tamlin certainly had noticed, long ago. Since then, the dreams only came infrequently, usually after a particularly hard day. Jesminda. She hadn’t even been his mate… if he had just left her alone, she could’ve found her own mate, she could’ve lived a long and happy life. She could’ve been happy forever, without him and his ridiculous family troubles that he couldn’t really even understand sometimes. Why was he the one singled out, he couldn’t tell. He never even wanted to be High Lord.

The dreams returned in frequency now. Sometimes Jesminda’s face morphed into Elain’s. She would look at him lovingly, she’d whisper that she loved him and then the cauldron would swallow her. The blood, Jesminda’s blood, would mix with that dark water. Sometimes both of them would be murdered by his father. Sometimes the bond would break.

He took up a habit of only sleeping when he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore and a dreamless, restless sort of slumber claimed him for an hour or two.

The autumn months passed without incident. He stayed away, met Rhys at pre-arranged locations. Sometimes the High Lord winnowed to see him in the human lands. They didn’t talk about Elain. The last time he had stepped foot into Velaris, Feyre had invited him to solstice.

“You can come earlier. Or the day after. I wish to see you, Lucien. You’re my friend,” she had pleaded. He had agreed.

And there he was again, two boxes in hand. Feyre smiled widely and hugged him, inviting him in.

“How are you?” she asked gently, surveying him with those bright blue eyes.

“I’m well,” Lucien answered his typical answer. Feyre narrowed her eyes. “Happy early birthday,” he smiled smoothly, handing one of the neatly wrapped boxes to her. “It isn’t much, but I thought it to be fitting for a HighLady, and her baby, heir to a court.”

Feyre unwrapped her present with endearing excitement, examining the leather-bound tome carefully. The golden lettering on the almost comically large book read A History of Prythian and Its Seven Courts.

“It is a revised edition,” Lucien hummed, gesturing for Feyre to open the tome. He tapped over the very last chapter of the Contents. Feyre Cursebreaker: The Liberation of the Seven Courts. “It has some nice art of you.”

Feyre opened the tome to the last chapter with delight, blushing lightly. “Oh, Lucien, this is beautiful… I didn’t even know something like it existed.”

“The Day Court is filled with scholars and scribes who keep our histories. Most courts have their own, but Day is known for compiling these large anthologies and things. I thought you would appreciate it, and… an heir to a court should know of all these things, so I brought Nyx some homework,” he explained with a small smile.

“Oh, he’ll be delighted, I’m certain,” Feyre smiled fondly, flipping through the book carefully. “Thank you, this is very thoughtful of you. It’s beautiful. Have you been to Day?”

“Yes, I visited Solaris a month ago. I was trying to look into Vassa’s curse, but I haven’t come up with much.”

“Did you ask Helion?” Feyre asked softly.

“He gave me access to the libraries and a scholar to help, but she hasn’t come up with much. We’ve been going through ancient spell books and any information about monsters, the prison, old gods…” Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, heaving a sigh. “There’s a lot of useless information to swim through to find a mention of Koschei’s name at all. I’m fortunate enough to take some of the books home.”

“That’s really nice of Helion,” Feyre murmured softly, her eyes glinting.

They fell into easy conversation for a while. It worked. They had managed to heal their friendship over the last few months, even though the odds had been stacked against them. He stayed away from the topic of mates as much as he could, but Feyre let Elain’s name slip in conversation accidentally. There wasn’t a universe where he could simply ignore it.

“How is she?” He asked silently, the dull ache settling into his chest.

“She’s doing well, I think, she’s much better than after the Cauldron,” Feyre answered, avoiding any details. But Lucien needed to know.

“She’s seeing the spymaster, right?”

“Lucien…” Her tone wasn’t unkind, but it held an edge of warning anyway.

“I won’t do anything. I just want to know. I can feel it through the bond anyway…”

“Then why do you need confirmation?” Feyre questioned quietly, looking into his eyes, as if to search for the answers there. “Why hurt yourself further?”

“Ignorance isn’t bliss when she sends these bursts down the bond every now and then, and I know she’s having a good time,” Lucien shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. “I know I don’t deserve much, her time, her love, her… anything. I deserved to at least be told. I thought I did.”

“You weren’t together, you weren’t even speaking…”

“Because she wished to have nothing to do with me, not because I didn’t want to,” Lucien snapped and blew out a breath to steady his mood.

“I know… I told her to handle it at least,” Feyre mumbled silently, her eyes cast towards the ground. “You did deserve that much. To be told at least.” Lucien merely shrugged, his fingers tapping over the box he had brought his mate.

“I got her this. I’ll stop doing this for next year. It feels pathetic, and I don’t want to be the creepy male who can’t take a hint. I guess she can consider this a farewell present, if she opened it.”

“What is it?” Feyre asked, leaning closer to Lucien to look at the box.

“I’ve collected packets of seeds from a few different courts I visited throughout the year. They’re flowers from the human lands, from Spring, from Autumn, even Day. Maybe she’d like them.”

Emotion flashed across Feyre’s usually composed features before she smoothed them into an easy smile. “That’s a brilliant idea, Lucien. I’m sure she will enjoy them.” He merely nodded again, letting the conversation move back towards easier territories.

He was just about to leave, after a few hours spent with his friend, he had put his jacket on and was headed out of the house when he smelled her scent.

“Lucien.”

It was her voice, coming from the garden. She was there. He had left the present with Feyre to give it to her in his name. His heart began hammering in his chest as he turned, spotting her easily. He needed no further indication, his nose, his eye, his heart, who knows exactly what, led him to her immediately. “Lady,” he murmured silently and bowed his head.

“We need to talk. I’ve heard you were here…” Her eyes only shifted towards him for a second before she averted them back towards her lap.

“What do we need to talk about, Lady?” Lucien asked, panic rising from the pit of his stomach. This was it. She would formally reject him. He knew it was coming. No one ever said anything positive after ‘we need to talk’. He schooled his features into a neutral expression, approaching the bench she was occupying. His anxiety was a thunderstorm, a hurricane of flames, a cyclone of misery approaching his space, the tiny fortress in his mind. He had no chance.

“Would you like to sit?” Elain asked quietly, still barely meeting his eyes. He weighed his options.

“Just get it over with,” he managed after a moment of deliberation.

“What?” She asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“I don’t think I can handle niceties. Just lay it on me,” he muttered, his tone dropping dangerously low. His scent lingered somewhere near. He was watching from somewhere to make sure Lucien didn’t do anything brash. It only filled his heart with rage. It barely fit next to all the emotions he had already been trying to keep at bay.

“Well… I thought you should know that I’m seeing someone, and…” She was considering her words carefully, wringing her hands nervously in her lap. Lucien braced himself. “I want to reject you, formally. Is there anything I need to do or is that it?”

“That’ll do,” Lucien muttered. His grip on his self-control was slipping. Elain sucked in a deep breath, as if she too was bracing herself. “Enjoy your life then. The bond can only be broken by death, but it’ll weaken now, so maybe I won’t see so many of your dreams.” He couldn’t help himself, his feet were about to give out under him.

“Well, I don’t wish to see yours either,” Elain snapped, her tone sharper than before. A shadow curled under the bench she was occupying. Lucien couldn’t stay any longer.

“You have never given me a chance. I know I am not entitled to one. Maybe you know better, you did get dealt a pretty weak match compared to your sisters. Happy Solstice.”

He was gone after that, he didn’t wait for a response. He winnowed with remarkable speed.

Elain’s lips trembled as she pressed her hands against her chest. The pain was suffocating. The guilt, the shame, the yearning for love ‒ it was about to crack her heart in two, and then it suddenly stopped. It took her a moment to figure it out. Those were Lucien’s emotions pushing through on that bridge between their souls, creeping over to her side until he had likely clamped down on them. Her chest heaved from the sheer force of those feelings.

“Are you all right?” Azriel stepped out of the shadows at that moment, sitting down next to her. His gloved hands were holding hers already, no sign of his shadows as he pulled her close to his chest. “Did he aggravate you?”

She shook her head, the ache still dull in her chest. “No, no… I’m glad to be done with it,” she smiled instead, lacing their fingers together. Azriel was her safety ‒ he was compassionate, he was kind to her, and protective of her. He reminded her of Graysen, his good qualities anyway. He looked the least male too. His features were elegantly and devastatingly beautiful, his ears were not pointed, apart from his wings, he looked almost like a human man. There was no long red hair, no scars, no enchanted eyes. She could find comfort in that, and passion and love too, eventually.

The first week was pure and unbridled self-pity. It was pathetic. He just stayed mostly in his room, ignoring the humans like a petulant child. He pulled himself together by day six. There was no justification to ignore Vassa’s plight, to act like such a huge thing had occurred. Realistically, nothing changed. His last bit of hope was squashed. The pain felt like his heart was put into a vice, an ever-crushing vice with no way to stop that tension. That is why some males had gone mad, he mused as he pulled his hair into a careless braid. It made too much sense now.

Jurian greeted him with the indifference he appreciated and expected. He didn’t need to be pitied. The man had a short temper and a tortured soul, his tongue was his sharpest weapon, but that same man had a gentle nature and great perception of others’ feelings. He didn’t push him, he simply offered him breakfast and talked about his plan to rebuild administrative buildings in the nearby village. Lucien was happy to listen.

He continued his day doing the routine things he needed to get done, just so the minutes would pass. In the evening Vassa turned back to normal and tried to cheer him up with gestures of care and gentle questions. He smiled dutifully and answered in reassuring sentences. From the way those blue eyes were staring daggers into him, he knew he was not fooling anyone.

He was about to retreat back into his room when a familiar scent hit him. His body went utterly still, to the point where his human companions noticed, looking at him in alarm.

“My brother is here,” he muttered, getting up to his feet. He opened the door right as Eris stepped in front of it.

“Little brother, the runt of the litter” he greeted with that smug smile that never seemed to falter off his face. Just what he needed at this very moment, for Eris to ruin his godsdamned day…

“What do you want?” Lucien bit out as Eris slipped into the manor, uninvited. Lucien wasn’t sure whether his blood chilled or heated up, but he did not have the patience for this bastard.

“What. Do. You. Want.” His patience was running thin as it was, he didn’t need his asshole brother to goad him.

“I want you to help me kill my father,” Eris muttered, his voice dropping dangerously low. Lucien gaped at him.

“‘Are you out of your mind?”

“No. No one will eliminate him, if I don’t,” Eris shot back, sitting down at the worn kitchen table. His russet eyes were aflame with simmering rage. “He’s colluding with the human queens, he plans to move on Tamlin’s territory, he wants to either take it over or pull that brainless bastard into a fight against the other courts. A fight he can’t win, mind you. He’s going to destroy Autumn.”

“And your only plan is to‒” Lucien couldn’t finish his sentence as Eris snarled, drumming his thin white fingers on the table.

“Yes. And I will become High Lord and whip that place into shape.”

“So, that’s it then? You want to become High Lord so bad, you would kill our father and rope me and presumably our brothers into it too? Or will we kill them too?” Lucien challenged. “What of mother? What if the magic doesn’t choose you? Why don’t you ask the other three?”

“Don’t mistake the end of my patience for frivolous bloodlust, little brother,” Eris answered, leaning closer to him. “The magic will choose me, there is no one else to choose. I wield the strongest power of the four of us. Mother will finally be freed from years of torment. And you? You’re not Beron’s son.”

Lucien stared at his brother for a while. All of his thoughts were running away from him, he couldn’t grasp any of them in his hands, he couldn’t form a single question. He just stared and stared, his mechanical eye whirring as if it was trying to discern what was told to him.

“How have you not figured it out yet? That’s the biggest mystery, oh so sly fox,” Eris muttered, staring down at the table as though the wood grain held the secrets to all of his problems. Lucien couldn’t even fire back a response. His jaw went slack as he blinked at his older brother.

“You have been winnowing in and out of every place effortlessly for the last few months, wards be damned. You broke through Rhysand’s wards like they were nothing. When in Spring Court, you just slipped through Tamlin’s simple wards without any effort. Rhysand’s wards weren’t like that and yet you still did it. Did you ever think how?”

“I-“ What was he supposed to say? He had always done that. He could detect wards, track spells, he even had some healing magic.

“What, little brother? You just thought you learned it? I certainly can’t do any of it,” Eris muttered, a vicious smirk spreading across his face. “You’re the only one. The only one born from love. Why do you think I’ve protected you all these godsdamned years?”

“What are you talking about?!” Lucien stared daggers into his brother. “How do you even know… any of this?!”

“I guess it is time I let someone know.” Eris straightened as he watched his brother, his fingers still drumming on the table. “That shadowsinger can take claim of the dark corners, but the fire whispers to me, and there’s a hearth in most houses, there’s a bonfire on the beaches, there are fires in kitchens, and outdoors, where you cook your freshly caught game. And there’s fire wherever father is, but that fire whispers to me.”

“What?” Lucien muttered as he watched his oldest brother whose eyes were filled with quiet rage. “So… all this time, you just spied on everyone?”

“I didn’t need to. The fire started whispering secrets to me when I was but a fledgling, but I kept it to myself. The Vanserras, our ancestry can be traced back to Hestia herself, she who first breathed fire into a hearth. We’re descendants of the old gods, but their gifts are not common to inherit anymore.” He ran his fingers through his fire-read hair, cut shorter than Lucien’s. “I knew about you before mother did. And before you ask, no. Beron is not given the same gift, or curse, depending on how you look at it.”

“Why do you call it a curse?” Lucien stared at his brother, barely able to wrap his mind around everything he was bombarding him with.

“I can easily get information about everything, about the scum my father is, about what plans Rhysand has to string me along, anything. Not all of it is complete, fire doesn’t reach everywhere. But sometimes knowledge is a curse.” He cocked an eyebrow as he asked, “Aren’t you curious about who your father is, little brother?”

“Uh… yes. I think‒”

“You’re the only one born out of love, of all of us,” Eris cut him off, his fingers drumming incessantly on the table. “The only one. And that’s why I protected you. You’re mother’s child with Helion. Which makes you the sole heir to the Day Court. That’s why you’re cleaving spells left and right, Lucien. That’s why you have healing powers. That’s why you look a lot like Helion. I can’t believe people haven’t put this together yet.”

Lucien gaped, a small chuckle escaped his lips, then an incredulous sigh. “You can’t be serious. This is not funny. My power is fire, just like yours. It’s not singing me bedtime stories but it’s certainly not cleaving spells and controlling light or wind or whatever it is Helion can do.”

“This is no joke.”

“Oh, really?” Lucien snapped, anger bubbling in his chest. “And how come you’re the only one who knows?”

“Don’t you think Beron suspects it, idiot?” Eris shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “He tried to murder you multiple times, he tried to get me and our brothers to murder you, he made sure we viewed you as the enemy, he tortured you wherever he could, he pushed you out of his court before your parentage could be revealed. Those were no mere accidents.”

“Or… he was a fucking asshole, like to all of you.”

Eris rolled his eyes, leaning over the table. “Mother named you Lucien. L-U-C-I-E-N. She was never sure, but she suspected it, and she marked you with that name. Helion, the wielder of the power of the sun, fathered a child who is going to be the sun, light and fire. Mother cried tears of relief when she saw that your hair was as red as hers.”

“She knows?” Lucien’s lips pressed into a thin line. His whole world was turning upside down and he had no handle to hold on to.

“Suspected it. She had a centuries-long affair with Helion.”

“This is insane,” Lucien muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Why is it always me? Why do I get to have these life-altering revelations out of the blue?”

Eris snorted before his expression turned deadly serious. “Be glad you’re not born of that monster. Helion is a good male. And he’s not manipulating his kin to be soldiers against one another in an endless blood duel for power.”

“I can’t‒ I can’t picture him‒”

“As your father? Well, you’ll have time to figure it out,” Eris hummed, raising his fingers elegantly. His ring glinted in the dim light of the fire as he put a ward around himself. “Break it.”

“What?” Lucien countered dumbly, his thoughts escaping like startled rabbits.

“Cut through my ward, Lucien Spellcleaver.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lucien muttered with a frown. But the challenge got his attention. Was he truly able to do it? Did he truly have that power? He blinked and extended his hand towards the edge of the ward. His eye revealed the intricate details, the way the magic weaved into a wall like a basket, forming a solid shield around Eris. It was easy to undo it. His fingers worked quickly as he sliced through a few strands of the magic, and suddenly the entire ward disappeared.

“Should I call you Prince Lucien then? You’re a Prince in the Day Court. The only prince, if my sources are not mistaken.”

“Don’t‒” Lucien took an exasperated breath. “Don’t claim anything like that. I don’t have a great track record of being wanted or accepted by those whose lives I’m supposed to be a part of. Maybe Helion will want to murder me because I threaten his reign.”

“Helion knows you might be his son after your run-in with him during Nesta’s mating thing,” Eris shrugged easily, studying Lucien’s features. “You have mother’s hair color and eye color, but your face is the spitting image of him. It’s ridiculous.”

“I know I should be happy, but he did some things and I wasn’t even his son…” He could have had a normal childhood in the Day Court, he could have been free of all that torment. He could have never met Jesminda, or he may have met her and she wouldn’t have been killed by a maniac… so many people knew the truth, no one bothered to tell him.

“Don’t go into a doom chamber, Lucien. We couldn’t tell you, we weren’t even sure, your powers were never honed or taught to you, it took you a long time to even show a sign of it.”

Lucien sighed, rubbing his temples. “When Elain was taken to the cauldron, that’s… that’s the first time I used those powers. I didn’t notice. Tamlin asked about it later, he asked how I freed myself. I didn’t even realize I did it.”

“You’ll have time to freak out on your own terms about your mate and your new dad and all that. Now, you need to help me eliminate mine,” Eris muttered, a dark grin tugging at his lips. “And if you do, I’ll help you figure out your human queen’s deal with Koschei. I can help you sniff out his weakness, and you can break that magic. First things first, you need to develop a mental shield. Rhysand and Feyre will not know of my gift.”

#elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #eris vanserra #helion spellcleaver #tamlin #Elucien

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rachelbethhines · 3 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Day of the Animals

While perhaps not my favorite episode this season, Day of the Animals is easily the best written story of season three. Even so, it still has problems due to the third season’s poor approach to characterization.

Summary: Rapunzel, Varian, Angry and Red are returning stolen loot that the two girls had stolen years ago. They are accompanied by Max, Pascal, Ruddiger and Hamuel who all cannot stop quarreling with each other (or in Hamuel's case, just being useless). While messing with a sea shell pendant, it magically transports the humans into it, leaving the animals to fight over it. A minor thug named Dwayne, steals the pendant forcing the animals to work together to retrieve it.

So Why is a Polynesian Inspired Kingdom Within Riding Distance of a Northern European Country?

If you’ll remember my review of Beginnings, Neserdina’s princesses were wearing Polynesian garb and dancing the Hula when prepping for the competition. Now I’ve already went into length as to why that’s not good representation, but in addition to that it’s also just plain dumb. You can’t just transport one ethic group and dump them into another part of the world because it’s convenient for you. You don’t earn any brownie points for doing that. Especially when your fantasy world is still based off of our own historical earth.

To make things even more confusing, we actually saw Neserdina way back in season one in Way of the Willow. It’s where Willow bought the gremlin knock-off.

That is an island. How the heck do you get to a volcanic island riding in a horse and cart? And don't tell me they’re riding to a port, because Corona is a port city already. They could have gotten there by boat. It’s also can’t be too far away from Corona’s borders if Angry and Red were able to get there on foot during their year long travels.

The only explanation is that the entirety of the Tangled crew doesn’t understand geography, and this won’t be the last example in the show to back up that statement.

So Why Is Rapunzel Here?

We get explanations for why everyone is on this road trip, except for the main character herself. Red and Angry are trying to return some stolen loot. Varian is wanting to pick up rare alchemy supplies at the market and was invited along because Raps hopes it’ll be a chance for Ruddiger and Max to get know one another better.

But why on earth does Rapunzel feel the need to come on this trip herself? Doesn’t she have a kingdom to run? While I’m sure Eugene is more than capable of handling things, this doesn’t reflect well upon the writers supposed plan of making Rapunzel appear more responsible.

Literally any other adult could have come along on this trip. This wasn’t something Rapunzel needed to waste time on. Lance especially would have been more appropriate here as he’s the one who’s suppose to eventually adopt Angry and Red. And the sad thing is, all they had to do was give Rapunzel a line about needing to attend some sort of diplomatic business in Neserdina. That’s it.

In a show that’s supposed to be all about Rapunzel; Rapunzel sure doesn’t have a whole lot of reasons to exist in the majority of the episodes.

Lack of Worldbuilding Strikes Again

At this point I’m kind of numb to the whole “magical thing just exists for no adequately explained reason” and so I’m not as upset as some people are about the shell necklace. But it’s still not good writing.

Why does this thing exist? How did come to be cursed? How did it get mixed in with their stuff? What activated the magic and why did it only effect the human’s even though the animals were closer to it?

Just something show. Anything. You bothered to give use rules for how this thing works and even stuck to them this time, but you can’t just make the last leg of the trip and give us some exposition?

Yeah, okay.

So Where Exactly Are We in Relation to Corona?

We can see Pittsford and Ivangarr on the road sign and we have to be in riding distance to Neserdina from Corona, but like are we in Corona still? Are we in Koto, which is Corona’s nearest neighbor to the east according to season three. Are we in some no-man’s-land where none of the kingdoms have control, or are we already in Neserdina itself?

The series gives us no sense of direction nor any firm placement for Corona within it’s world. I only know it is a Northern European country because Corona itself is a peninsula with a north sea, uses French, English, and German fashion/customs, and Rapunzel is a Germanic fairy tale. But like those clues are thrown into a blender and contradicted several times over, on top of never being told where it’s closest kingdoms actually lie.

All of this matters when traveling and exploring the wider world are big themes of your show. You need more solid and consistent world building than this. It also impacts how much authority and control your main character has within the episode itself if she range of political power is limited to one area. So like we need to know where the heroes stand here.

(FYI I personally headcannon Corona as former Prussia which was once part of Germany and it’s alliance of smaller kingdoms. It’s also a peninsula next to the Curonian Spit)

This Is Not Progress

Okay so the idea here, is that the show is implying that Rapunzel is trying to improve Corona’s justice system over Frederic’s previously inhumane crack down on crime. However, this is terribly executed.

For starters the show has never called Frederic nor Rapunzel out for their previous misbehavior. You can not change any system for the better without acknowledging the flaws within said system first. Therefore this comes right out of nowhere and doesn’t stick around long enough to stay within the viewers minds for later.

Secondly, Rapunzel is incredibly fickle about who she does and doesn’t set free. The Saporians were still in the dungeons last time we saw them, Caine was shipped off to the prison island and left to die there as far as we know, and the Stabbingtons are shown shackled together in the wedding short even though they supposedly changed their ways and befriended Eugene again.

Meanwhile Dwayne and Stalyan are free to go their marry way and continue their life of crime, Varian is only released from his overly harsh punishment because he kissed Rapunzel’s ass not because it was wrong to imprison him in the first place, and later Cassandra gets away scot free because she’s Rapunzel’s bestie even though she committed the worst crimes out of everyone in the show and for very little reason.

That’s not justice. That’s not compassion. That’s not progressive reform. It’s just nepotism, and it’s every bit as corrupt as Frederic’s classism and totalitarianism.

Just because Rapunzel is “nice” it doesn’t mean that she is kind. Real reform has to treat everyone with equality and have a set of base standards that are beyond one person’s personal judgment. She is still a dictator and an abuser even if she lets the occasional person go free on a whim.

Finally, Rapunzel’s methods are just downright ineffective. Dwyane may not be a threat to our heroes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a threat to other people. He’s not actually sorry about trying to rob people at knife point and he fully plans on continuing being a thief after feeding Rapunzel the lines she wants to hear.

Furthermore, we don’t know if this course of action is born out of malice or desperate need. He half heartily comments about finding ‘an honest job” but can he even do that? Is it even a realistic option for him? The series has been weaving this class inequality theme through out it’s past three seasons and directly connecting that to Corona’s crime rate.

Eugene had a hard time finding a job during season one directly due to his past record, remember? A life of crime he was forced to lead in order to survive, and he’s the Prince Consort! What chance does Dwayne have? Did Rapunzel even try to help him find work or did she just wag her finger at him and told him “Now, now, stealing’s not nice.”

The show wants to act like Rapunzel is this progressive reformer but then they turn her into a Republican instead. That’s not me being sarcastic either, this approach to criminal justice is the foundation of conservative belief and has been for centuries. The right are not interested in why people commit crime. They don’t care about addressing the fundamental problems in society that lead people to break the law. Let alone bother to analyze why those laws exist in the first place. Instead they resort to doublethink and survivor bias to either write off those that fall through the cracks or make excuses for why their policies repeatedly fail, often ignoring the fact that things aren’t actually working for whole swathes of people who aren’t themselves.

Tangled the Series is far too simplistic and childish in it’s approach to deeper subjects like this to enforce the messages it supposedly wants to enforce. Rapunzel herself relies on magical thinking, double standards, and personal bias to see her through every and any problem and the show just rewards her for it rather than challenging her to grow and in doing so winds up supporting people like her in their authoritarian ideas, whether that was the writers’ intentions or not.

In short, Rapunzel shows no interest in putting in the real work it would take to implement genuine restorative justice. She doesn't honestly care about Dwyane or his victims. She’s just posturing here for the sake of her self image.

You’re Not In Any Position to Talk Rapunzel

Speaking of Rapunzel being a hypocrite.... The entirety of season three’s main conflict is her having a petty bitch fight with her supposed best friend and needlessly dragging everyone else into it.

In fact that’s the whole show. Rapunzel repeatedly failing to get along with other people because she’s deep down a shitty person despite the veneer of ‘friendliness’ she slaps on to hide it. Having her just say she knows better does nothing to convince me that she’s actually learned anything. You have to show that she’s learned it first, and that requires acknowledging her own wrong doings.

Varian’s face here just tells it all. Rapunzel is full of shit and no one in the show knows it better than him. Why are they even friends again? Why should we trust her with the three kids she neglected more than once? Why should any of these people take what she says seriously?

Well This is Contradictory

Also, since we brought up double standards, here’s Varian undermining that whole “jail is bad” thing Rapunzel is trying to push with Dwayne and later with Cass. Not only is the show under cutting it’s themes for a joke, but it just reinforces the abuse Varian received. He’s now bought into Frederic’s stupid beliefs and winds up reinforcing to the audience that that his ‘reform’ was due to his past imprisonment.

As an adult watching this series, Varian’s supposed redemption continues to increasingly look like a victim complying with their past abuser out of fear of further harm rather than anyone genuinely learning to be better.

Can We Please Stop Infantilizing the 16 Year Old

As if to deflect from Varian’s past mistreatment and continuing parentification, the show then goes on to showcase the opposite extreme whenever possible. I know it’s hard to tell just from these few screen shots alone, but over the course of season three Varian is spoken down too and treated condescendingly by the rest of the cast, and by Rapunzel in particular, even as he enters his later teens/early adulthood.

Some of this is just to due to Rapunzel being her usual holier than thou self, but there’s also times, like here, where Varian is lumped together with the actual children of the show, even though he’s 6 to 8 years their senior.

In fact out of everyone Rapunzel interacts with, Varian’s actually the closest to her in both age and development. Queen for a Day forced the two of them into a power imbalance due to a mixture of classism and society’s ongoing unhealthy (and often artificial) divide between younger and older teens, but as we get further and further away from that point in time and as Varian nears the same age Rapunzel started out as, that imbalance becomes less and less relevant.

Look at how this scene is framed, He’s standing between Angry and Red and is placed lower than them to make it look like he’s one of them. He’s not.

Varian may still look 12 with his big old eyes and short stature, but seeing as how we’re past Hearts Day, he’s actually close to being 17, if he isn’t already. The timeline gets even wonkier after The King and Queen of Hearts, but trust me, we’re close to being two years past Queen for a Day, if not more so.

Varian, for all counts, should be Rapunzel’s equal by now in terms of story. Not only is he closest in age to her, but he’s also the only other person going through a coming of age arc. And of the two, Varian’s the one who has actually learned and grown as a person. He has more real world experience than Rapunzel ever will and knows how to implement that experience. (He’s also the more mature, but that’s more of a failure to write Rapunzel competently than a reflection of his capabilities.)

No matter how you slice it, Varian shouldn’t be taking orders or advice from Rapunzel; no one should be, really; and he most certainly shouldn’t put up with her condescension. Rapunzel is not his nor anybody else’s mother. She’s not even a big sister like figure, and at no point should be treated as the leader of anything or anyone.

Rapunzel is a Poor Man’s Rose Quartz

I typically try not to draw too many comparisons between Tangled and other shows outside of the occasional parallel, as a show should be able to stand on it’s own for good or for bad, but it’s hard not to discuss the series without also discussing Steven Universe in some way.

Steven Universe is this generation’s Batman the Animated Series or Scooby Doo. It’s the game changer that everybody else is trying to copy in some manner. Chris desperately wants Tangled the Series to be the next Steven Universe, right down to how the show is structured, paced, and what themes are presented. But unfortunately Chris has no idea why Steven Universe works the way it does.

For starters SU adjusted it’s pacing as it went along, smoothing out its rougher edges while Tangled doubled down on its filler. SU had a planned arc from the get go and stuck to it, so that by the time the twists came they made sense. SU kept it’s focus on Steven purposefully so that the story unfolded from his view point while making to sure to acknowledge the importance of other characters around him and their conflicts. It didn’t make him infallible nor shove aside everyone else’s arcs.

But most importantly, Steven Universe was written by a bisexual nonbinary person who set out to make a show for people in the queer community like themselves. Meanwhile, as a middle aged white man, Chis hasn’t a damn clue about his primary audience and has shown no interest in connecting with them.

This isn’t to say that Steven Universe is a perfect show. No show is beyond criticism. Nor is this to say that straight white cis men can’t write; many of them do and can portray characters unlike themselves competently enough. But if you’re completely disinterested in other points of view than you can’t be a good writer of fictional stories, that’s just a fact. Because in order to understand proper characterization you need to acknowledge that not every character ever will be like you and that even you’re main heroes will hold beliefs and experiences different from yourself. Otherwise there is no genuine conflict to build off of. Either no one will disagree with each other or the conflict will come across as flat and forced, complete with lopsided bias.

Therefore, in the end, Rapunzel winds up being less of a Steven and more of a Rose Quartz/Pink Dimond. Both are spoiled princesses/co-rulers of a kingdom that mistreats it’s people and anyone outside of it, who rebelled against their guardians, supposedly out of a sense of justice, but really for themselves and their own freedom, only to make things even worse for everyone. On top of that they both accidently harmed their friends, freindzone their best friend while also bossing them around, are condescending to their love interests, is controlling of people who trust them, and throws temper tantrums when they don’t get what they want, oh and neglected someone for an inhumane amount of time.

Even then, Rapunzel winds up being the worst of the two.

The whole point behind Rose was that she is someone whom the main characters place upon a pedestal and as the series went along slowly had the scales fall from their eyes and learned to view her for who she really was flaws and all. By the end, in Future, she is even metaphorically removed from her pedestal when Steven removes her picture from the wall.

Rose also grows as a character, unlike Rapunzel. Her story is deliberately being told to us backwards. The awful person she was in the past was no longer who she was by the time of her death. True she was still flawed, and the consequences of her actions continued on even after her demise, but she actually tried to be a better person. She got called out for her behavior, she wasn’t excused for actions even when the show explained why she did what she did, and she stopped doing harmful actions whenever she realized that they hurt someone.

Greg was allowed to stand up to her and show how she was wrong, and she respected him for it and later fell in love with him because of it. She tried to better control her temper when she wound up hurting her friend. Her failed revolution and her mistreatment of Spinel was actually born from a misguided desire to help, rather than outright selfishness.

Rose Quratz/Pink Dimond is a brilliant fucking character. You may not like her, but you can’t deny that she is one of the most complex figures in children’s media to ever be created. She is real, nuanced, and multifaceted. He role within the story is complicated, messy, and intricate. She is the most well rounded female character I’ve ever seen and she is what I had hoped Rapunzel would be when I first watched season one, only even more so as the actual focus.

I want women in cartoons to be people!

But Rapunzel fails at every turn to follow through with this promise. She is not a deep complex character. She’s not a flawed and complicated heroine. She’s a blank canvas in which the creator can shove his creepy ass views upon. She is never taken off her pedestal, she’s never allowed to be wrong, and she is forced to spout the the creator’s personal bias against other characters.

Rapunzel isn’t a person. She had the chance to be one, but then was reduced to .. to this. As a woman, the treatment of Rapunzel and Cassandra in this show is just flat out insulting.

So What Is the Difference Between Angry and Red Now?

I’m all for character growth, but at this point Angry and Red are just interchangeable. Anything that made them uniquely them has been lost, and they’re now just fulfilling the generic rambunctious little kid trope. Red becoming more assertive shouldn’t mean she stops being an introvert altogether; that’s not how that works. While Angry shouldn’t lose her temper completely just because she’s wiling to open up more.

So Why Dwayne?

I like Dwayne as a character and in truth I don’t mind his existence here, and unlike that werewolf hunter last time he at least was established in a pervious season. But this is still time that could have went to a more important antagonist.

Also notice that Dwyane gets a villain song, but not Lady Caine or Zhan Tiri. Just saying.

Rapunzel Has Not Earned the Role of the Wise Sage and Mentor

Rapunzel has never learned to listen to others. Ever.

On it’s own this might have been a good speech, but when taken in context of the wider story it just makes Rapunzel look like an ass.

A year traveling does not make Rapunzel suddenly all knowing. She is not wiser nor more experienced than anyone else in this scene. She’s also a crappy leader and big fat hypocrite.

Even when she’s technically right, as seen here, she’s still in the wrong because she never follows through and acts upon her own advice; making this whole story pointless in the grand scheme of things.

And that’s the core problem with season three. Rapunzel is shoved into a role she is not designed for and the whole premise of the series runs right off the rails. You’re main heroine in a coming of age story can not inhabit the mentor role. She can not simultaneously learn and grow and be always right while instructing everyone else.

All through out season three Rapunzel is either rendered completely useless in her own damn series, or she utterly fails to fulfill any sort of narrative promise laid out for her while she infuriatingly hijacks the story from more interesting and dynamic characters.

Behold The Only Reason Why Varian was Included in the Episode

Speaking of hijacking things, Rapunzel of course has to get the idea to save everybody, even though what she thinks of isn’t anything special. It’s not derived from her character as an individual nor from all that experience she supposedly has. It’s literally an idea anyone could have come up with and the show just hands it to her in order to justify her exitance.

Meanwhile the character who actually is useful to the plot is sidelined and reduced to just a plot device. And not just here, Varian is rendered practically pointless in all but two episodes in season three, even in episodes that he actually should have more impact in, like the season opener and series finale.

Good writing treats characters as equally contributing to the plot in ways that complements who these characters are.

Ok I’ll Admit That This Line Is Funny

Look, I know this whole review series is about pointing out the negative, and I stand by my opinion that Tangled the Series is one of the worst written shows I’ve ever seen, but I want to make one thing clear.... I do not hate the show. If I hated the show I would not waste my time reviewing it.

Yes the over all writing is shit, but there are a lot of good things to be found in the series beyond just the crap story arc. The humor is usually solid, the animation is gorgeous, the music is a delight, and the majority of the characters are likable even though they don’t develop in the ways that they should. There’s a lot of talent that went into this show and there’s a lot of potential to be had in it’s set up and lore.

Being critical or negative about the aspects of something doesn’t mean you dislike it, or that you’re not a real fan, or that you’re just a ‘hater’, and I actually find TTS to be fascinating because it’s such a mess. I write reviews because they’re fun and because I genuinely think there is something to be learned from Tangled’s mistakes.

So Why Do We Cut Back to Rapunzel Here and Not Varian?

This is such an odd framing choice. Varian is the one who is talking and reacting to what’s happening. It’s his pet that’s in trouble and therefore he carries the emotional weight of the scene, and yet it’s Rapunzel’s shocked face we focus on? Why? What’s the point of that? She has no business being the center focus here. The action does not involve her.

If you wanted to include her for a later set up then why not have both her and Varian present in this shot? Usually I can at least count on the story boarders to frame things better than this, but they really missed the mark here. Unless Chris is just that stupid and petty that he over ruled them and forced Varian out of the scene, but that seems like a pointless fight to pick, even for him.

See This is How you Fulfill a Narrative Promise

The conflict between Ruddiger and Max was set up in season one with What the Hair, then it was reiterated a few episodes ago during The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne, and then it was reintroduced in this episode along with a stated lesson about working together that they needed to learn. By they end of the episode, guess what, they’ve learned to work together. That is how you properly set up and resolve a conflict.

It’s clear from this that the writers of Tangled the Series know the basic tenants of writing and how to fulfill narrative promises. So the fact that they don’t follow through with this in the majority of the show’s episodes and ongoing story arcs just baffles me.

Is it negligence? Is it hubris? Is it incompetent management and editorial mandates? Is it just one asshole ruining everything or is this a failure in the writers room as a whole?

I just don’t understand what the fuck went wrong here. There’s no reason for why the show got as bad as it did. How does the most acclaimed animation company in the world put out such amateurish tripe?

Just... wow.

Now you know why I’m mesmerized by this show. It is a mystery to be solved, like trying to figure out how the crew on the Titanic fucked up so badly or why Hindenburg blew up. You just can’t look away.

Conclusion

Like I said at the start, structurally speaking this is the strongest episode of the season. I personally enjoy Lost Treasure a little more, just because Rapunzel annoys me less in that, but it’s not a bad story. However when you’re best episode in your final season is filler, then you know you’re in trouble.

If you like my reviews and want to support my writing endeavors you can drop a tip in my kofi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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bestworstcase · 3 years

Note

Hey, me and my friend are developing our own Tangled History Lore the involves the Saporians, and in our instance, Demanitus helps Corona take over Saporia by stealing Zhan Tiri’s created memory wand and wiping their memories of the invasion except for the Saporians who helped Corona.

Now, Saporians have grown up with no history of the past other than small events, barely care about their heritage, and are still somewhat against Corona.

So what would happen to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, who may have been previously allied with Saporia, if they found out Corona and Saporian treasonists took over and wiped their memories

so if i'm following, corona rapunzel's returned the entire nation of saporia and all of saporia's allies ~two thousand years ago when demanitus and zhan tiri were still kicking around and this massive magical conspiracy then went undiscovered for however long—i assume until around the time of the series itself?

which. hm

backtracking a little from your actual question i think it would be worth taking into consideration the limitations of the wand of oblivium—bc in rapunzel's return it's shown that the wand is powerful but can't really be used on a wide scale: the saporians managed to wipe the memories of the coronan king and queen, and being generous perhaps a handful of other aristocrats and important courtiers whom we just don't see on screen bc they're not necessary to the story, and then just relied on the coronan culture of absolute obedience to the king to control the rest of the populace while waiting for varian to figure out a potion that could... either directly reproduce the effect of the wand on a dramatically larger scale or else somehow serve as a conduit for disseminating the wand's magic to many people at once. (personally i think the latter solution was more likely what the goal was, i.e., clementine uses the wand to curse batches of varian's potion and then they suffuse the water supply with the potion or start gassing people with it or whatever the method of distribution ended up being and the curse is transmitted through the material of the potion—but that's a tangent)

the question is how did demanitus and his coronan conspirators get around the problem of the wand needing to—as rapunzel's return implies—individually curse every single person whose memories the caster wants to alter? conquest by brainwashing is arduous to the point of impossibility if you're trying to do it one person at a time, esp. when it's possible for cursed people to fight off the magical amnesia with support from loved ones whose memories are intact. and then add to that it being a wand he stole from zhan tiri and his own self-admitted unfamiliarity with magic—this is the man who shoved his soul into a monkey with a spell he knew he barely understood after all—and theres the additional problem of did the coronans even know what they were doing the way a real witch like clementine or zhan tiri would?

and then all magical considerations aside you have the further complication that massive conspiracies are difficult to pull off simply because they require a lot of people to be in the know to make things happen, and you start running into the two-can-keep-a-secret-if-one-is-dead principle. stuff gets out

ANYWAY

this is cynical but assuming there is indeed a two thousand year gap between the memory wiping and then modern day corona, in line with the canonical timeline of tts—which i recognize is not necessarily a reliable assumption with an au but you didn't specify—i honestly dont think a lot would necessarily change if the brainwashing was retroactively discovered somehow. bc by now the hegemony of the seven kingdoms in a world where saporia doesn't exist is well established and... people in power cleave to the status quo. what's going to happen to this sprawling trading alliance if we take corona to task for this enormous violation of human rights that happened literal thousands of years ago? when saporian culture was eradicated so thoroughly that it might as well not ever have existed? who benefits from tearing this system apart now, and who benefits from leaving things as they are and shrugging at past wrongs? (it's so much easier to just say well... that was a long time ago... oh well.)

except for, of course, the saporians themselves, because it was their identity and their home and their culture that was utterly stripped from them—they lost everything, and even the knowledge that they'd lost anything at all was stolen from them too, like, it's hard to fathom a scenario where this information comes out and doesn't lead directly to outrage and unrest from whatever saporian communities are still left—how else can one even respond to something like that?

and from there i mean. it depends on where you want to take the story and how you want to handle it, like, theres a lot of variables beyond "corona did this horrific thing x centuries ago and now we know about it" that could or would shape the direction of events subsequent to the conspiracy being broken up to—like assuming all other things being equal how do zhan tiri and cassandra and the moonstone fit into this, with zhan tiri being (i assume) a saporian sorceress whose work was stolen and then used to eradicate her home? how does varian's partnership with the saporian separatists go when theres this underlying element of them just doing to corona what was done to their ancestors in a desperate bid to maybe scrape back together some semblance of a cultural identity for themselves? how does rapunzel—who has herself run afoul of saporian memory magic, albeit accidentally—feel when she learns this about her nation's history and what does she do about it? etc etc etc and then all these individual character decisions have ripple effects that shape the broader societal and political responses there's not a one size fits all answer, here. it's dependent on the specific shape and structure of the story itself

#but also i would think abt maybe workshopping that conquest idea more #to either nail down the exact details of HOW such an enormous conspiracy could even work or #like refine it away from 'and then they brainwashed the entire continent'

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varian-the-unstable-alchemist · 3 years

Note

You know what, I’m just gonna do it. Sorry, Varian, but hopefully this one isn’t too bad.

A Perfect World (Curse): The muse is trapped in a dreamlike state, only everything in this dream is ideal. Other muses can reach into the dream to wake them up, but will they be ignored? After all, who would want to escape a perfect world? However, if the muse chooses not to wake up, they will be sleeping forever. That might cause some problems. Have fun!

Varian rubbed at his temples, sitting at a table at the boardwalk. His journal was open in front of him, but his groggy mind couldn't piece itself together long enough to get anything down on the page. Deciding that it was worthless to try any longer, he slipped the book into his bag and went to stand, when he was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. He braced his hand on the table to keep himself from stumbling. it'd been a few days since he'd slept, but he wasn't that tired, right? he tried again to take a step, but his legs gave way under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He didnt have the energy to stand again, letting his eyes slowly flutter closed.

// @purple-steven @call-me-cassie @moth-steven @mirror-steven @anyone my mind is blanking lol

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luxmaeastra · 2 years

Note

Tamlin blinked at her, at the offer she laid at his feet. He saw it now he supposed - the deceit, the masks.

"How?"

Ianthe shrugged her bangles shimmering in the setting sun.

"The Middle is kind to the Chosen. Now, do you agree Tamlin? Do you —"

"Do you actually want me? I can just give Spring to you right? It's not like there's much left of it now. Ianthe so did want to take you to bed Tamlin."

Ianthe stilled and titled her head, she turned to the doorway. Tamlin pays Varian no mind, not as he takes it all in.

"Do you know what you're offering? You can't take it back. We would have preserved your bloodline you know."

Tamlin shrugged and stared at the warped wood. Did he whore her out then? Or did Ianthe truly want him as Varian said? Did it matter now?

"My blood isn't worth preserving. Take it Varian."

He holds his hand out to him, Varian looks to Ianthe who nodded eagerly. Varian stepped toward Tamlin nealing before him.

"You can stay here if you want -"

"Don't patronize me. Just take it."

Varian gripped his hand and shuddered as the power flowed to him. The runes glowed along his arms - silver vibrant. Ianthe gasped as she looked to the scenery grow green and healthy once again.

"Vari look! It's responding!"

Varian stood and looked back at him.

"Make yourself scarce Tamlin. I intend to give my mate the frenzy she deserves."

He walked to her tilting her face to his, her own skin glowing silver. She is seemed to glow by a unseen sun.

"My High Lady. Of course it's responding, the rightful heirs are home."

----------

Beron didn't bother to announce how he got here. Keir wrenched his arm from his grip. Beron's eyes landed on Amren before he looked to Franco.

"Varian has taken over Spring and made it part of Summer again."

Franco stilled and titled his head.

"Okay, why does this matter to Night?"

"Because we are allies —"

"Not with me. Seasonal courts disputes aren't Night's especially when we have our own problems."

Beron looked to Amren.

"What of you? Have you begun to realize Varian played you? You ever wonder Franco if the jewelry was given to Amren was cursed? They did that a lot before —"

"Amren has not said anything and her relationship with Varian is her own. This still doesn't concern Night Beron. I will not attack Tarquin based on a rumor of supposed curses."

//For Ianthe, Amren!!//

It worked, it had worked. Their plans, the actions they took. Watching the power transfer, watching the power become theirs sent a thrill through her, her eyes widened as her smile twisted into a cruel grin. He surrender it all, he gave up. Maybe that little made thing had benefitted them, her actions had torn him down enough that he had no will to fight.

Ianthe watched as the shell of a man left them, her attention returning to her beloved mate as she allowed for him to tilt her face to his. Her eyes filled with desire, with the thrill of the power. Her hands rose up, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled herself closer to him.

“We will make this court one others should fear.”

----------

Silver eyes rose from the documents in front of her when Beron had entered, when he had made his grand entrance. Amren had decided to stay within Night when the power transitioned, she had chosen to assist Franco as much as he needed – after all she had been Rhysand’s second long enough to know how things worked.

The news of Varian, of Spring, had come with a bit of a sore spot. The idea that he had used her for so long caused anger to stir, that he had used her. She had never considered the gifts he had given her could have been cursed, she never considered the risk. At least not at that time, it had been a concern that he knew too much of Night’s dealings with how much time he had spent there.

Beron’s words sunk in, she rose quickly to a stand as her eyes narrowed. “Remove the jewels.” She said to the nearest guard, her focus never leaving from the Autumn High lord. “You should listen to him Franco,” she turned and looked towards the new High Lord. “Varian knows more secrets of Night than anyone else does, he was here so much…He was scouting out the court.”

#Muse | Amren #Muse | Ianthe

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fletchphoenix · 4 years

Text

Steal Your Heart

Thank you to @angel-dust-now and @honeyxmonkey for your amazing prompts! Tried to incorporate them both into this and I hope you enjoy this! The next chapter of the high school AU just isn’t up to my standard at the moment so hopefully it will be soon. Anyway, thank you for your support and onwards with the chapter!

-----------------------------

Of course the day before his arranged marriage, Rapunzel and Eugene had decided to host a ball. It was obvious that they’d do that to get Varian to ‘meet the suitors’ and all that jazz. Of course his suitor was the most obnoxious person in the world - he just HAD to be. Varian groaned as he had to deny yet another unwanted advance, leaning back against a cool, marble pillar as Leonard relented and went away to find another man to flirt with. His eyes rolled as he looked away, a frown falling onto his face. Silently, he tugged on the collar of his shirt as Rapunzel glanced over with a saddened expression, him meeting her eyes before promptly averting his eyes to the floor of the ballroom and focusing on the golden details.

He was trying. He just..didn’t like the guy’s face or voice or personality or..okay maybe he wasn’t trying, but he couldn’t help it! He was being forced (‘prompted’ was how Rapunzel had put it upon proposing the idea to him, but he knew that it was simply to make him more complicit to accepting the idea) to marry a guy he didn’t know for the sake of a kingdom that he knew thought he was a monster. He hated it here, so honestly, the kingdom probably just wanted to get rid of him in the only way they knew how - marriage.

Marriage. Marriage as a prince was a curse. Something that wasn’t for love or endearment - it was just for status of the king and queen and good public relations, and to prevent wars between kingdoms. He wished he’d just been born in the kingdom itself, instead of a castle which kept him cooped up every hour of every day. He’d never been allowed out of the castle’s walls, it only fed his curiosity instead of deterring him, desperate to know how other people lived and went about their lives and fell in love with each other...it sounded perfect. Well, for him at least. Eugene had always told him his time in the village was short, but he hated it more than anything else in the world. Varian neglected to believe him - Eugene had a tendency to over-exaggerate everything, take for example the time he thought he had the plague when it was merely a common cold.

From across the room, someone began to stroll over. Someone..who was admittedly handsome and a sight for sore eyes in Varian’s opinion - but when you’d been looking at the dim-witted face of Leonard all day...let’s just say a change of scenery was very needed. The mysterious stranger donned an emerald jacket, stretching down to his waist with golden thread weaved into intricate patterns along the sleeves and chest. Not at all conservative with the details, in Varian’s opinion. A gold waistcoat was slightly hidden by the jacket, brown trousers completing the outfit and a pair of black shoes clicked against the floor as he made his way over. Varian instantly scolded himself for staring, but he couldn’t help that a pretty stranger was coming over to talk to him. This never happened once in his life and now that it was happening..he allowed himself to experience a wave of childish excitement and wonder.

“Hey. What’s a beautiful prince like you doing here?” the man asked, a smirk playing on his lips. Now that he’d moved closer, Varian’s eyes drifted over the glasses that framed his face and the ribbon, matching the color of his jacket, holding his hair back in place in a semi-neat ponytail with his fringe slicked back. Varian had to admit - he was definitely more handsome up close. A sea of freckles covered pale cheeks as he leaned against the pillar to his right, gazing down at Varian. “Sorry, I guess I should ask for your name first. I’m Hugo. You?”

“Oh, right. Uh-my name is Varian. Prince Varian of Corona.” he stuttered out, his face flushing at the attention from someone as..well, not suave but someone actually flirting with him, for a change.

“Ah, right. Well, could I steal you away for one dance, my prince?” Hugo asked, holding his hand out and bowing, the smirk still playing on his lips as the other hand pushed the circular glasses up the bridge of his nose again with nimble fingers. Varian debated saying no, the thought sticking in his mind as he reminded himself he couldn’t, in fact, dance and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of such a handsome man. Alas, he gave in to his inner urges and agreed to Hugo’s proposal, slipping his cool, gloved hand into the blonde’s warm, bare one and letting himself get guided through the ocean of dancing couples to a relatively quiet spot on the outskirts of the ballroom. Carefully, Hugo pulled him along into a waltz as they glided across the dancefloor.

Varian’s inexperience must’ve been evident from the way Hugo slowed his movements and gave him time to catch up and learn before he quickened their pace ever so slightly. It was sweet - no one was ever really this considerate of him and his limits. The smug smirk was still on the blonde’s face, however, as they swayed in time with the music, Varian’s head resting on his chest as he let himself get lost in the moment for a while. The feeling of Hugo’s chest rising and falling with his melodic breaths, the gentle thudding of his heartbeat, the warmth that practically engulfed his whole body and left him with no escape..it was heavenly. He knew it was going to kill him to have to marry someone like Leonard after he’d just met a diamond in the rough like Hugo.

“How about we get out of here?” Varian hesitantly asked, Hugo’s eyes glittering slightly before he avidly nodded. Varian took his hand in his, interlacing their fingers and sprinting out of the ball. Neither of them would be missed, he supposed, as he pulled Hugo down hallway after hallway, all seeming the same as the other laughed in excitement and confusion at where they were going. Varian’s heart fluttered at the sound. He would kill for that to be the only sound he’d ever hear again.

Eventually, they pair ended up outside, laughing and joking as they watched the moonlight shimmer against the surface of the pond in the walled garden of the castle as the sound of the ball faded away into little more than a murmur. Their fingers were still interlaced as they walked, gazing in awe at the sheer beauty of the gardens (and each other) with nothing but a comfortable silence between the pair until Hugo spoke up. “So, Prince Varian..what are your interests?” He questioned, glancing over at the other boy as they passed a particularly beautiful patch of red tulips, barely poking out of the ground and their crimson buds only just discernible in the moonlight.

“You’re probably going to call me nerdy or something but..alchemy is my one true passion. I don’t know what about it I love. Maybe it’s the processes and how intricate they are, or how useful it can be, but..I adore the subject. I also love my pet raccoon, Ruddiger and uh..probably singing. I’m...not that good, though. And I won't be able to do it much after I marry Leonard anyway..” He laughed nervously, his eyes fixing on the ground and hair falling into his face. His hand trailed up to tuck it behind his ear, but Hugo beat him to it, his hand lingering for slightly longer than socially accepted and causing a flush to rise on Varian’s pale cheeks.

“You’re in luck, hairstripe. I just so happen to be an expert in the sciences.” He began before going off on a tangent about alchemy and its processes and different formulas. Varian took in every word as if it were gospel, his eyes fixed on the other as every word flowed like a stream, each word encapsulating Varian even further into Hugo’s siren song as his delicate melody of a voice lured him in. “Well, how come you can’t do it after marriage?” Hugo pondered, his eyes meeting the younger boy’s, who immediately saddened.

“Everyone thinks I ruin everything here. They say the marriage is meant to ‘straighten me out’ and make me less of a ‘problem’ or at the minimum someone else's. Leonard even said today in the lab ‘we’ll soon take that hobby out of you’ as if it’s a problem. I get that I sometimes overestimate or miscalculate, but..I don’t know. I don’t wanna live my life with someone like Leonard and give up my freedom for a rat-faced little snob like him. But..I’ve got no choice.” Varian sighed as he bit his lip gently. “Never mind, I said too much I-”

“Run away with me.”

It had caught Varian off guard, the sudden proposal coming out of seemingly nowhere. Run away with a man he’d only known for a few hours the day before his arranged wedding with Leonard? It would be scandalous! Of course, the only reason that Corona really wanted him to marry was so he’d be out their hair for good, but it was still hard to accept Hugo’s offer. He had to admit, he’d thought about it a few times and he would need a guide to show him around the different places of the seven kingdoms, but..just running away?

“I..I know I’m being forward with this, but I felt a connection when I saw you, Varian. Something deep and real and true..I’ve never felt this way before, and I can’t bear to see you marry some stuck-up, prissy little prince like Leonard.” He continued, inching closer to Varian and backing into a small seating area, ivy almost concealing it. “Varian..it’s your choice, but..I love you. Sure, it’s early to say that, but..I’m sure of it.” He concluded as Varian stared at him in utter awe, in wonder of how bold the man in front of him was. He loved it.

“Hugo I..are you sure? Are you sure you love me?..” Varian muttered, his other hand sliding and fitting perfectly into Hugo’s. The light summer breeze blew between them as Hugo guided Varian closer, raising his hands to his lips and pressing a kiss against them gently before lowering them again.

Hugo hesitated before inching even closer, tilting his head slightly and leaning in. “I’m sure of it, my dear. In fact, I’ll prove it.” he whispered against Varian’s lips, them meeting soon after in a slow, careful and absolutely divine kiss. Arms wrapped around each other and pulled their respective partner’s closer to each other, eyes fluttering shut and letting themselves get lost in the experience of their lips meeting for the first time. It was all Varian had ever wished for..

...until it wasn’t.

Hugo was tugged out of his arms by the collar, Eugene pulling him away as Hugo stared at Varian with a solemn, regretful look on his face. Quick;y, Varian snapped out of his haze and pulled on Eugene’s sleeve. “Hey, get off him! What are you doing?” He yelled as he tried to stop his brother-in-law from taking Hugo away from him. “Eugene let him go!”

“This man, Varian, is a wanted criminal in Corona! So just head up to your room now.” Eugene snapped bitterly, completely unlike the playful man Varian knew and loved. It stunned him into silence before he stood his ground and replied with his own amount of sheer annoyance at the situation.

“Eugene! No! I’m not gonna let you just take him awa-”

“Room, now!” Eugene yelled, turning to the younger boy who by this point had flinched back, tears making wet trails down his cheeks before his back straightened. Varian gave a prompt reply of ‘yes sir’ before walking back inside, building into a sprint as he ran to his room in the castle, slamming the door and rattling the alchemical equipment on the table. Additionally, he’d disturbed Ruddiger, the raccoon peacefully sleeping on the twin sized bed before waking up to see his master’s emotionally distressed state and fruitlessly attempting to comfort the boy as his body shook with the sheer force of his sobs.

It took him a while, but he’d eventually calmed down. Ruddiger curled up in his arms as Varian pondered Hugo’s prior proposal. Running away was his only choice now, getting away from the life he’d resented for so long because of how unfair it was on everyone around him. All around him was poverty and despair, and he couldn’t stand for that anymore. War or not, he was living his own life from now on. A determination flooded through his body as he walked to his closet, changing into some peasant clothing that a cook had gifted to him for if he ever wanted to sneak out of the castle for a day. It wasn’t much: brown trousers, long black boots and a long-sleeved, teal shirt with a dark blue patch on the left arm along with an apron, but it would have to do. He also took a navy cape out of the closet for himself and a green one for Hugo should he decide to leave with him. He sauntered to his window, a new haze taking over him as Ruddiger jumped onto his shoulders.

Varian gazed out at the kingdom he knew and loved, little dim lights showing houses with their candles still lit as he pulled his navy cape around himself further. Tears welled in his eyes before he promptly dismissed them. No. He wasn’t giving his life away to marry some deadbeat prince from a useless kingdom as part of some peace treaty, he wanted to marry for love and not just to please the masses. That was his choice, and he had to do this, so why was he finding it so hard to leave the prison he called a home and the wardens that were his family. He bit his lip gently and carefully pushed open the window, light wind brushing past his face and ruffling his hair with its chilling air. Wow, this really was it. His first time leaving the castle...but he couldn’t just leave.

Quickly, he gathered an assortment of items that were necessities in his eyes: a few hundred gold pieces, his goggles and a few alchemical books and supplies, a small painting of his mother and father, a loaf of bread and a satchel to hold them all in. Hastily, he shoved all his belongings into his bag after he pulled out a small test tube. Stepping out into the hall, he shook it gently and a sickly, green glow radiated onto the walls as he turned left and began to rush down the winding hallway, determined to save the other boy currently locked in the dungeons.

It wasn’t a hard journey to make - all the staff and royals were asleep so there was no chance of him getting caught, dim light illuminating the seemingly longer halls as he sped down them. He wasn’t going to let himself or Hugo be subjected to a life of torture when they’d been so harmonious, so perfect for each other in the short time frame they’d known each other. It wasn’t fair. If Rapunzel could marry a peasant, why couldn’t he?

His footsteps hesitated in the hall. Rapunzel. How would she react to the news of his departure? He knew it was selfish - to risk a war in order to be with a man he’d only just met, but..she had to understand he couldn’t give away his free will to someone who couldn’t even tell magnesium from silver. Leonard had the intelligence of a goldfish - whereas Hugo knew vast amounts of things about alchemy and science..it was addictive to listen to the other boy speak about something he loved so endearingly. That was one more reason he couldn’t let the other get harmed at the hand of his family, as he pushed open the large, spruce door to the dungeons with Ruddiger in tow.

Pitch black darkness surrounded him, the light from his makeshift contraption providing a limited field of view, yet enough for him to find the keys and steal them from their miniature, metal hook on the wall. As he passed cell after cell, some with raspy breathing, he noticed how freezing cold it was and how inhumane these conditions were. He hoped Hugo was okay, he thought as he passed through before stopping in front of some metal bars, squinting to see in the darkness a familiar silhouette. “Hugo.” he whispered, the blonde’s head quickly turning as he stood and ran to the bars, his relieved smile glowing under the light of Varian’s glowing test tube.

“You came back.” His voice rasped as Varian unlocked the cell. Hugo immediately swung his arms around the boy and spun him around in a circle, picking him up with his hands on his waist. “Oh my stars, I’m so glad you’re okay. With the way Eugene yelled at you, I thought you were in trouble.” He breathed a sigh of relief before he set the younger boy down, his hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner about me and my past. I swear I was going to, but of course Eugene and-”

Varian cut off the older’s apology with a kiss to his lips, his way of showing his acceptance to it. “As lovely as it is to listen to your voice, we have to go now before someone realises I’m gone. I want to be with you, Hugo. Now come on, we have to go.” he prompted as the pair ran past the prison cells and out into the cool air of the night, hand in hand and ready to face whatever was thrown at them.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends

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sonicgetsrawed · 4 years

Text

Goggles Meet Glasses

Requested by @skyelights-xox! Enjoy!

Hugo was getting impatient, Varian had been staring at the map for a solid ten minutes now and still hadn’t picked a direction. It didn’t help that Varian was being stubborn once again, refusing to let anyone else take a look at the map. Yong had taken to sitting on the ground, playing with the grass, Nuru joining him shortly after. Hugo took a step towards Varian, placing a hand on his shoulder, they weren’t that close, but he needed them to actually make progress if he was going to be done with this stupid mission.

“Why don’t you let me take a look?” He asked, keeping his tone lighter, allowing a small reassuring smile to grace his lips. He was confident in his skills that it didn’t look as phony as it felt. Varian didn’t say anything, just let out a small puff of air into his fringe, and handed the map over. His lips were pursed, eyes looking anywhere but Hugo. He found that stranger than anything, Varian was not jumping at the chance to tell him off. They had been at each other’s throats since day one and the fact that he wasn’t arguing now was actually somewhat worrying. Still, Hugo took the map, the markings clear on where they needed to go. He frowned, blinking rapidly as if he had missed something. The path was clear, so what had been the problem? He opted to ignore it, setting them on the path to the next trial.

He noticed things like that happening more and more often. Varian would struggle to read the map, he brought his notes closer than necessary to his face, he tripped over obvious obstacles, his eyes squinted when he worked on experiments. He knew what the signs meant, he had experienced them himself, he shouldn’t be concerned, and yet he found himself wanting to help the smaller alchemist. It was so they could finish the trials, he kept telling himself, he didn’t actually care about Varian, he didn’t care about any of them.

“Hey, goggles, need help?” Hugo asked, clearing the distance between their work stations. Varian had been staring at the same page of his mother’s journal for nearly twenty minutes now, bringing the book extremely close to his face. He figured if he wasn’t here Varian would have finished by now, having no one to judge him for being practically on top of the book.

Varian looked up, his cheeks flushing a cute shade of pink, no, a normal shade of pink. “I’m, uh, just stuck on this equation.” Varian explained awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hugo plucked the book out of Varian’s grasp as the other desperately tried to cover it. He frowned, the page he was on had no equations, just words. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, Varian snatching the journal back as soon as he could. “If you’re not going to help, you can get out.”

He wiped away the tears that gathered in his eyes from his laughter, clapping a hand harshly on Varian’s back. “Okay, okay, here.” He pulled the glasses off his face handing them to Varian.

Varian had the audacity to look offended, eyebrow raised, and lips pulled into an adorable pout. Wait, what? He almost missed Varian’s words as he fought with his feelings. “I don’t think-“

“Just shut up and put them on.” Hugo watched as best he could as Varian slid the frames into place.

“Oh.”

“Oh? You’re going to have to give me more than that, goggles, I can’t see you.” Hugo rolled his eyes, but given the tone of Varian’s single word he was able to see.

He smirked as Varian shifted in his seat, most likely trying to find a way to thank him. He was surprised when he instead returned the glasses to Hugo’s face. The other’s fingers brushing lightly over his ears, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. He cursed his own luck, as his cheeks flushed, he didn’t get flustered, he especially didn’t get flustered over Varian. But he was so close to him and now that he could see him clearly again it did nothing for his heating face. He quickly moved away, clearing his throat. “Did it help?”

“Yes.” The word was small, forcing its way out of Varian’s mouth like the action itself physically pained him.

Hugo smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, now that they were back on familiar ground. “So, did you want to borrow them, or am I going to have to pick up your slack, again?”

Varian glared, his freckles scrunching up as his nose wrinkled in anger. “My slack? When’s the last time you did anything useful.”

Hugo sighed dramatically, turning to the exit. “You’re right. Me and my glasses will just be going now.”

“Wait!” Varian called, Hugo relished in the way his eyes darted around, obviously fighting an inner battle. Eventually he sighed, running a hand down his face. “Can I borrow your glasses?”

A wide smile spread across Hugo’s lips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Hugo-“

“Close, but not quite.” He could practically see the steam rising off of Varian. Hugo smiled wider, tapping the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Tick tock, goggles, I have places to be.”

Varian was seething now. “Please.”

Hugo decided not to push his luck, making his way back over, and slipping the glasses onto Varian’s face. If he could see properly he’d see the blush on Varian’s face when he let his own fingers linger longer than necessary. “Thanks.” Varian squeaked out, turning back to his work the moment he could. Hugo hovered awkwardly, not trusting himself to do his own work like this, until his glasses were back. He couldn’t stop the fond smile that formed as he watched Varian work, occasionally pushing the too big frames back into place.

The weeks continued as such, Varian awkwardly asking to borrow the glasses, and Hugo awkwardly hovering while he waited for them to be returned. Then things changed drastically, after many conversations and tossing the glasses back and forth, Hugo came to the terrible realization that he had feelings for Varian. It was thrilling and scary as their relationship progressed, he knew what he had to do, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from falling hard, he couldn’t stop stringing Varian along, pulling him to the ledge with his sweet words and lies. He couldn’t stop Varian from plummeting, he didn’t want to if he was honest, he just wanted these moments to last forever, to be frozen in time. His fingers brushed over Varian’s as he grabbed the glasses from his hands, placing a brief kiss to his lips, before spinning into his work station. He cherished these blurry moments almost more than the clear ones, here they worked in sync, here the world made sense. When Varian returned his glasses he held on a little longer, kissed him a little deeper, he needed this to last, he needed it to.

#tangled the series #varigo #varian #varian/hugo #hugo #varian and the seven kingdoms

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alkae · 4 years

Text

They Were Roommates

Chapter One

Varian was late for class. Again.

It wasn’t his fault he kept telling himself. He set alarm after alarm but he just couldn’t seem to be able to wake up early. Every morning was the same: wake up 5 minutes before class started, change out of pajamas, brush teeth in five seconds and then basically sprint across the campus to his first class. Which, by the way, was about a ten minute walk on a non busy day.

It’s been like this for a week. That may not seem like a long period of time but that was how long he had been at Corona University. And his roommate didn’t seem to care enough to wake him up for class.

Said roommate he hasn’t even met yet. They had completely different schedules. That or his roommate was purposely trying to avoid him. Varian didn’t mind. Frankly he was glad for the lack of distractions. He just wanted to graduate and then move on with his life without having anyone sidetrack him from his goals. And so far so good.

That particular day, though, completely shit on his goals. He was sprinting to class, bag half packed and hair a mess, his mind elsewhere and he wasn’t looking where he was going. That’s probably why he ran headon into someone and felt something warm spread onto his shirt. His white shirt.

Neither him nor the other person fell, luckily. Varian reeled back and looked down at his shirt that was stained with a dark liquid. He lifted it up to his nose and sniffed. His nose wrinkled. Coffee. He had hot coffee spilled onto his shirt. Great. Just great.

“Whoops! Sorry about that!” the coffee-spiller laughed. Varian glared up at the perpetrator who was about 6 inches taller than him. He had blonde hair that was long in the back and tied in a ponytail, obnoxiously green eyes and glasses that covered most of his face. He wore a green jacket and loose jeans with a smirk on his face that made Varian want to slap him. “Man that’s unfortunate.” Wonderful. He must’ve noticed the fact that Varian’s shirt was white and the stain most likely wouldn’t be easily hidden.

Varian gritted his teeth. “Yeah, you think?” He didn’t even try to wipe at it, he just sighed. “Sorry for running into you,” he muttered. “I gotta go.” He made to go past the blonde stranger but said stranger stopped him.

“You’re going to class like that?” he asked. “Do you want to be made fun of? Are you some kind of masochist?”

Varian yanked his arm away. “What other option is there? I’m already late.”

The stranger tapped his chin in thought. “I have one option.” He took off his jacket and held it up to Varian. Varian’s face scrunched up. He couldn’t be serious. The stranger seemed to read his mind because a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “What, you’d rather go into class with a giant brown stain?” He shrugged. “Okay, man. You’re funeral.”

Varian snatched the jacket from him and put it on, zipping it up to his chin. “Thanks.” He wasn’t sure if his voice was audible or not. His face felt warm.

The stranger chuckled. “No problem. You look good in it anyway.” He winked.

Oh no. No no no. He did not. Varian did not have time for this. He ducked his head. “I have to go. I’m seriously late.” He went around the stranger trying not to catch his eye and slowly broke into a run.

“Study hard!” the stranger yelled after him. Laughter followed this and Varian’s face burned further. He broke into a sprint and refused to look back.

And if in class, someone sniffed around and said, “Is there coffee?”, he wouldn’t admit it.

~~~

Varian collapsed onto his bed face first, still wearing the stranger’s jacket. His classes were one right after the other and by then it was nearly 1 and he was starving and exhausted. Plus he still smelled faintly of coffee. He needed a shower, a change of clothes, a nap and a ham sandwich.

Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and sat up as the door opened. He froze. Was his roommate really showing up now out of all days? He felt his breath catch as the door widened and in stepped… the stranger from before.

They stared at each other in silence, Varian’s jaw open and the stranger looking as if someone had just slapped him. It was 5 minutes before the stranger started laughing. “Of course my roommate happens to be the same person I spilled my coffee on! Of course!” He slapped his leg and doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Varian got over his shock and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not that funny,” he said.

The stranger straightened and wiped at his eyes. “Yes. Yes it is.” He choked back another bout of laughter. “Sorry, sorry.” He didn’t look very sorry. “That was a poor introduction.” In a few swift steps, he was over by Varian, hand outstretched. “I’m Hugo McCoy.”

Varian took his hand warily. “Varian Ruddiger.”

Hugo took his hand back, grin still on his face. He pointed at Varian. “I see you’re still wearing my jacket, Ruddiger.”

Varian looked down quickly and felt a blush rise to his face. “Ye-yeah.” He cursed his stutter. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to make a bathroom stop.”

His roommate nodded in an understanding yet somehow exaggerated way. “Sure sure, I get it man. I stand by my statement by the way.” He looked too cheeky for Varian’s liking. “You look much better in it than I do.”

Varian rolled his eyes. “Is that like your only line?”

“I’ve got more. Want to hear them?”

He leveled him with a glare. “Pass.”

Hugo held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, don’t get so touchy, Hairstripe.”

His eyes narrowed further. “Hairstripe?”

Hugo waved his hand up at Varian’s hair. “You got a blue streak in your hair.”

On instinct, Varian reached up like he was going to cover it. “Hey don’t be ashamed,” Hugo said. “It’s pretty cool.”

Even though he said to not be ashamed, a flush made its way onto Varian’s face. “It’s natural,” Varian said, voice low. “Don’t ask how.”

Hugo raised a pale eyebrow. “Did you just say it’s natural? What, are you part Smurf?” He chuckled. “That would explain the height.”

Now Varian’s flush was indignant. “I’m not that short! Just because you’re built like a beanpole-”

Hugo laughed. “A beanpole! Man, you’re vocabulary is massive. Did you swallow a dictionary as a child?”

What was this guy’s deal? Varian felt his anger level rise. He unzipped the jacket, shook it off quickly and then tossed it at Hugo. It hit his chest and fell to the floor. Hugo blinked. “It smells like coffee now,” Varian bit out. “I’d wash it.”

Hugo blinked again before his face settled into an annoyed look. That was new. “Don’t tell me to wash my jacket when your shirt looks like you took a bath in coffee.”

“Who’s fault is it that the coffee spilled in the first place?”

“Uh, yours. Maybe if you woke up sooner you wouldn’t have to rush to class everyday.”

Varian felt his mouth open in indignation. “If you woke me up every once in a while, maybe I would wake up sooner.”

“Yes please blame me because you don’t set an alarm every day.”

“I do set an alarm!”

“Really?” Hugo looked skeptic. “I never seem to hear one. Tell me, do you set it at a frequency that only dogs can hear?”

“You just don’t hear it,” Varian replied hotly, “because you’re gone by the time it goes off. What, do you wake up at like 5 every morning? Do you have a girlfriend or something that wants to meet before school everyday?”

“Yep you caught me,” Hugo said, voice bland. “I have a girlfriend who wakes up at 5 in the morning just so we can make out before classes start.”

Was he joking? Varian honestly couldn’t really tell. He cleared his throat. “Whatever. Just wherever you go, don’t get coffee.”

Hugo nodded solemnly. “Yes master. Anything else?”

He resisted throwing a shoe at him. He stared down at his bedspread in frustration. He was still hungry and he still smelled like coffee. Not gracing Hugo with an answer, he slipped off his bed and padded over to his closet to search for a new not white shirt. He could feel Hugo’s eyes on him. After selecting a shirt, Varian turned around. “What’s your major?” he asked lightly. An abrupt topic change but a necessary one. If they continued the conversation they’d been having, Varian couldn’t promise that harm wouldn’t be done.

Hugo seemed a bit put off but he replied, “Chemistry.”

That was Varian’s major too. He bit his lip. “Same.”

Hugo tilted his head. “Funny how we don’t have classes together then. Have you been avoiding me, Hairstripe?”

“Don’t call me that,” Varian snapped immediately. “And besides, it feels more like you’re avoiding me. It’s been a week and this is the first time I’ve seen you.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you even here anyway?”

Hugo rubbed at the back of his neck. “My class ended early today because my teacher had a wine headache.”

Varian’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No.” Hugo grinned as Varian rolled his eyes in annoyance. “But she did have a headache so we watched YouTube videos for half an hour before she just let us go. I came back here to get my ID to get lunch.” He batted his eyes at Varian. Varian stilled. “You could come with me. It’ll be my treat and as a payment for spilling my coffee on you. And then every second we spent talking together these past few minutes.”

Varian mulled it over in his head. On one hand, the last thing he wanted was to spend time with Hugo. On the other hand, he was really hungry and it would be nice not to have to pay for once. He clenched the shirt he was holding. “I need to change,” he said, praying his voice didn’t come out short.

Hugo beamed. “Lovely! Get changed, Hairstripe, and quickly before I lose my appetite.” He made a shooing gesture at him. Varian huffed and turned on his heel.

This was his roommate. Hugo McCoy.

This was going to be a long year.

#varian and hugo #varigo #tts varian #varian/hugo #hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varian and the seven kingdoms

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kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Trust fall

Words count: 2731

Eugene Appreciation Day Six: Team Awesome

Summary: What if Eugene saw Varian fall in Cassandra's Revenge?

Read on ao3

@fishskiin

Eugene realised that, as much as he thought he was angry with Cassandra, he wasn't really furious until he saw Varian hanging over the air in a cage of black rocks. He had been sad, because Cassandra was his friend and she betrayed them; he had been frustrated, because she kept hurting Rapunzel, who had her flaws, but nothing that couldn't be solved with a discussion; he was concerned, for his friends and for Corona, concerned at what she would be willing to do.

Then, she kidnapped Varian and put him in a cage high above the ground, and he felt furious.

Varian, for his part, was scared but more focused on the last incantation than on himself, letting Eugene do all the worrying about the empty space under them, and how easily Cassandra could let them fall. When the rocks started retreating, Eugene had half a mind to curse - until Varian called his name fearfully, and he realised there were more important things. He took the kid's hand in his, squeezing it tightly and hoping he would understand that Eugene intended to defend him against Cassandra if need to be.

Well, except that she squeezed him between black rocks, and he was helpless to do anything but glare at her. She was using him to pressure Rapunzel into fighting and Eugene hated it, but when he tried to talk, the rocks squeezed tighter, and he lost his breath with a groan.

The next part was a little blurry. Or, more exactly, a little too bright for Eugene to follow. Rapunzel was shining and floating and exuding power like a goddess and, once Eugene's heart stopped beating so loud with anxiety, he would be awed by her beauty. She was fighting Cassandra, who was also glowing because nothing could ever be easy in their lives, and Eugene still struggled to breath, both because of the rocks and the sheer energy he was faced with. Some part of his brain told him he was also cursed with the "birthday should involve a near death experience" special, and he would have laughed if it wasn't his friends being in danger too.

Then, Rapunzel and Cassandra clashed together and the energy was enough to break the black rocks surrounding him, and push him away a few feet. He was fighting the strong gusts of wind when he heard a cry from behind him, and turned just soon enough to see Varian being pushed over the edge.

Eugene thought he screamed but he wasn't sure - there was too much noise all around and blood was rushing to his ears.

He scrambled after him, the wind pushing him harshly to his knees midway - but he got up again, he ignored the pain in his bones and rose up because he needed to see- needed to go and try to fix this, even if it already felt like he was too late because Varian fell and they were so high up the ground-

Eugene stumbled again near the edge and crawled the few inches left, his head sticking out over the staggering height. He felt sick, Varian's cry of terror like a twisted knife in his body - and Eugene knew something about those.

It felt like a dream, then, when he saw the tiny figures right under him - first a recognisable red-head, Catalina, then Angry right at her side, Lance and… Varian, in Lance's arms. It took several more seconds before Eugene managed to breathe again, laughing nervously as he was overwhelmed with relief. He closed his eyes and thought numbly that they had been lucky, so so lucky, but his body was still thrumming with anxiety and fear.

The energy of the sundrop and the moonstone disappeared and Eugene got shakily to his feet, running to the second focus of his worry: Rapunzel. He joked that she had been awesome, and she was too exhausted and wrung out to see that his smile wasn't quite reaching his eyes - which was good since Varian didn't seem to know that Eugene had saw him go over the edge.

Everyone was acting normal, so Eugene bottled up the terror he couldn't quite shake, and they went home.

------

"Hey Varian, are you- oh my god get down from here are you crazy?!"

"Hi Eugene!" Varian greeted brightly, ignoring the unmanly screech as he balanced himself precariously on a ladder, trying to reach the highest part of his new contraption. "You'll never guess what this do!"

"Varian-"

"I mean, I know I wouldn't have guessed, considering that this is beyond what currently exist, but I'm also the creator so nothing is impossible for me-"

"Kid-"

"Well some things are, impossible that is, but not this and once I tell you what this is I think you'll be pretty amazed that-"

"Varian!" Eugene's voice was loud enough to interrupt the alchemist's excited ramblings, something dark and scared hiding in his tone. Varian looked down at his friend, the other half of team awesome, and noticed that Eugene was white as a sheet. "I- Varian, please, can you get down from here?"

It was supposed to be a request but sounded so much like begging that Varian complied immediately, sliding down the ladders in barely three seconds. Eugene seemed ready to protest, but sighed instead, his shoulders sagging as he put his hand through his hair. Going by said hair, more precisely its disheveled state, something was seriously wrong with Eugene.

"Are you alright, Eugene?" Varian asked, biting his lips.

"Who, me?" Eugene laughed, the sound too high pitched to be genuine. "Pff, yeah I'm fiiine, always am! Anyway, uh, I have to- to- brush my hair, so see ya!"

And just like that, he was gone, without even asking what he came here for. Varian blinked at the half-opened door worriedly, rubbing his own arm as Ruddiger settled around his neck to comfort him. Since the events with Cassandra, Eugene had been downright weird - always insisting on safety measures, and stopping Varian from doing anything that could result in even a papercut as long as he was in the room. At first, Varian basked in the new found attention; then he was frustrated by Eugene's overwhelming protectiveness, because he wasn't a little kid; but now, he was only confused and concerned about his friend's state of mind.

That was the first time Varian tried to confront him outright, but it had resulted in exactly what he feared: avoidance. He would have worried that Eugene was angry with him, if the man wasn't trying to protect him from every little bruise and cut. His health in general seemed to be the centre of Eugene's concerns, these days, as the man also lectured him on good eating and sleeping habits.

Though, going by the dark circles under Eugene's eyes, that was irony at its finest.

Varian grimaced, looking up to his ladder but abandoning this project for a while, not in the mood anymore. He gathered his tools and tried to think back at what could have provoked this shift, why Eugene wouldn't trust him with his safety anymore, when it hit him.

Trust.

Since Varian had been kidnapped, Eugene lost his trust in him being able to take care of himself correctly. Upset at the thought, Varian frowned, before coming to a conclusion: he had to gain that trust back. He had to show Eugene that he shouldn't worry.

Easier said than done.

------

Eugene knew that he couldn't keep this up forever, couldn't avoid Varian forever, and he already felt guilty enough about it. However, he also knew that he needed to get a grip on himself - he could hear how overbearing he was being with the kid and, despite cringing internally at his own behaviour, he couldn't stop himself from interrupting each time there was the slightest sign of danger. His mind kept flashing back to that day, at the top of that damn tower - different but identical in the way that mattered, because he nearly lost another person dear to him in there.

Eugene looked at Varian now, and could only hear his desperate cry for help as he tumbled over the edge. Eugene looked at Varian, looked at the things that could harm him, and his heart started to beat so loudly he wondered if anyone could hear it except him, wondered if anyone could see the trembling of his own hands. So Eugene intervened, because the worst thing that could happen was being too late again when he could have done something - luck wouldn't always be on their side.

That also meant he was being an horrible and controlling friend. Which is why he avoided Varian, which in return made him an even worse friend - vicious circles were like that.

Seeing Varian up on that ladder a week ago made his whole body tense in panic so quickly that it was a wonder Eugene managed to flee - and, after that, it took a very long time for him to be able to breathe normally again. And Eugene knew, he was certain he couldn't impose his own problems on the kid because Varian didn't deserve that - he'd have to deal with his issues first, and everything could come back to normal, and they would be team awesome again.

For the time being, though, he was an horrible friend.

Eugene groaned and buried his face on his pillow. He had to shake off the fear that gripped his gut when he thought back on the few seconds when he thought he would find Varian's sprawled body when he looked down - had to shake off the terror of thinking that this kid, his friend, had died in the middle of a conflict he had no business with, and tha5 Eugene had been useless to save him. Easy, right?

A knock interrupted his swirling thoughts and he frowned. It wasn't late exactly, but Eugene was pretty sure he had nothing planned for this evening, and he was also pretty sure that Rapunzel had other duties to attend, so it couldn't be her. He got up and-

"Hello Eugene!" Varian chirped excitedly, pushing back his goggles in his hair. "Got ten minutes or so?"

"Varian?" Eugene yelped, before he plastered an anxious smile on his face. "I, uh, I'd like too but-"

"I checked with the Princess, your schedule is clear for the evening," the alchemist singsonged without losing a beat.

Varian took Eugene's sleeve and tugged him out of his room without leaving him the time to protest, leading him toward the guards training area. Eugene could only gap at the multiple installations that were clearly not here earlier, and who looked like something you could find in the challenge of the brave. Hardcore version.

"I present you," Varian announced with a dramatic flair Eugene could only admire, "the TRUST! Or Training Regimen to be Used Safely and Tactically, as you wish!"

"What?" Eugene asked dumbly, taking in the spiky ball hung mid-air on a pendulum, or the obviously unsafe axe-throwing area or-

"Well, I noticed you've been very protective of me recently, and I think I know why." Varian nodded at his own words, ignoring the contrived stare Eugene gave him. "This is my way to show you that, even if Cassandra did kidnap me, it doesn't mean that I can't take care of myself!"

"Varian, that's not-"

"I don't blame you, don't worry!" Varian smiled weakly, self-conscious. "I mean, I guess I can understand that you would think I constantly need help, my life is rhythmed by disasters, but you don't need to worry constantly about me and I'll prove it to you right now!"

Varian made his way to the TRUST and pushed a lever Eugene hadn't seen, making all the different obstacles move in a very creative fashion, certainly, but also terribly dangerous. Eugene picked up his jaw from the ground before grabbing the kid's arm and stopping him as he made his way to the spiky pendulum, swaying from right to left quickly.

"Varian you don't need to do that," Eugene pleaded, guilt churning in his stomach.

"Of course I do!" Varian answered angrily, tearing his arm from the hold and backing off toward the contraption without looking. "You don't trust me anymore Eugene and this, this is my way to regain your trust. I- We can't be team awesome if you don't think I'm good enough to protect myself!"

"It's not that," Eugene insisted, "not at all Varian! It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I… I…" he stuttered, feeling his throat dry up as the dreaded images popped back in his head.

Varian took another step back, hurt, and Eugene knew he was fucking this all up but the words wouldn't come to him. Then, he saw the pendulum come their way and realised that Varian had backed off way too much - he didn't even scream his name, instead throwing himself on the kid and making both of them tumble on the ground, to safety. Well, more or less, going by the stinging pain in Eugene's arm - a glance told him that a spike had come too close for comfort.

"Oh god I'm sorry!" Varian exclaimed fearfully, grabbing at Eugene's arm before searching frantically in the bag he carried. "Wait, there's got to be bandages here, I'm sure-"

"Hey, kid, it's okay," Eugene reassured gently, both of them still sitting down on the ground as the could hear the swishing noise the pendulum made behind them. "It's only a graze."

"Yeah, a graze cause by one of my inventions! Again!" Varian's voice broke, and he lowered his eyes, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Maybe you're right not to trust me," he mumbled, "everything I build ends up hurting the wrong people…"

"Varian," Eugene called firmly, his hand going under the kid's chin and raising his head, "I trust you. Actually, I trust you a lot more than most people, and your inventions may cause problems, but they also constantly help us. They're brilliant, kid."

Seeing the alchemist unconvinced and sad look made Eugene sigh, his free hand tightening against his own leg.

"You remember the mess with Cassandra at the tower, right?" Eugene asked, as if Varian could have forgot - even waiting until the kid nodded, nonplussed. "You… fell, off the tower."

"Yeah," Varian nodded quietly, the memory an unpleasant recurring guest in his nightmares, "Lance was there to catch me, though, I told you."

"You told me," Eugene assented quietly, "but I already knew, because I saw you fall."

Varian's eyes widened as he opened his mouth, before closing it with an audible snap. Eugene's eyes were looking at him, but they seemed glazed over, far away from the situation. His hands were trembling.

"I saw you go over the edge and… I thought-" Eugene trailed off, his voice too quiet to continue, before Varian sneaked his hand to take his. "It took me nearly twenty seconds to get to the edge and, for every of them, I was sure I would find you- find you dead. And I know I've been overbearing recently but- I can't get this fear out of my heart. I'm sorry, Varian," Eugene offered earnestly, "I know that I need to get over this but… I don't know what I'll do if something happened to you."

Varian hugged Eugene tightly right when he finished the story, his goggles digging painfully in Eugene's cheek.

"Thank you," Varian whispered, "for caring about me."

"Of course I do," Eugene whispered too, his arms settling around the kid's back. "You're one of my closest friend. Team awesome, am I right?"

"Team awesome!" Varian yelled in answer, nearly deafening Eugene for a moment as he jumped back to his feet. The kid paused, before proposing shyly: "Let's make a deal: I swear to do my most dangerous activities with someone to help supervise the experiment, if you swear you can accept that I am competent enough to do most things alone."

"Sounds good to me," Eugene grinned, happy that they made progress today - once they escaped the training equipment from hell.

He didn't think everything was fixed - didn't think he could stop being afraid for Varian so suddenly - but it was a first step in the right direction. As long as they were team awesome, they could surpass any obstacle.

#Eugene Appreciation Week #Varian is a sweet child who doesn't understand that some people are scared for him #Eugene is a tired Dad Friend who wants to shake the child until he's bundled into protective gear #first time writing team awesome so I hope it wasn't too bad!#Eugene Fitzherbert #Varian #Tangled

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