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whenisitenoughtrees · 5 years ago

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to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 2/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: blood and injury, Remus being mildly unsettling

Chapter Word Count: 5,074

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 3)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They don’t talk about it.

Thomas would very much like to talk about it. But whenever he goes to bring it up, Janus glares at him in a way that promises a world of trouble if he so much as breathes a word, and Thomas really does not want to set back any of the progress he’s already made with him, so he shuts up about it. He’s not entirely sure why Janus is so opposed to addressing it; it can’t be that he doesn’t want the others to know, after all, because all the others are literally parts of Thomas and as such are privy to the knowledge of everything that Thomas experiences.

As best as Thomas can tell, it’s some sort of embarrassment that holds Janus back, some sort of shame, and Thomas doesn’t get it. Surely he knows that Thomas doesn’t mind at all, that Thomas enjoys the time they spend together, even if their conversations are far more one-sided than he would like. Janus seems to be under the impression that coming to him at all is in some way unseemly, while Thomas just wants him to be comfortable enough to approach him as a human.

But as more time passes, that seems less and less likely. Thomas spends far more time with snake-Janus than with human-Janus, and Janus begins to come with him even when the sun shines bright and his spot by the window is available. Thomas becomes quite familiar with carrying a weight looped around his neck, and wishes he could puzzle out why Janus is acting this way.

The worst part is that with every passing day, he feels like he understands Janus less, not more. Because the way he acts during meetings and discussions, when he pops in to offer opinions and advice masked as sarcasm and cutting quips, is entirely different to the way he acts as a snake, when he and Thomas are alone together, when he leans into all the contact Thomas has to offer, seeking warmth, and, Thomas suspects, company. It’s almost as if he’s dealing with two entirely different people, each one unwilling or unable to discuss the other, and frankly, Thomas has no idea what to do about it.

Because he’s worried that if he pushes too hard, demands one answer too many, Janus will stop approaching him at all, in any form. And that is the last thing he wants.

So, he leaves it be, and resigns himself to the idea that human-Janus may just remain incomprehensible to him, and that snake-Janus is the closest he will get to making a friend out of him. And if that turns out to be the case, then gosh darn it, he will be the best friend to snake-Janus that he possibly can be.

This has the side effect of leading him to a snake-centric fact-finding mission, which Logan appreciates, at least, because “even if the information may not be applicable to most aspects of your life, at least you’re learning something, Thomas.” Which he supposes is fair. He learns a great many things about snakes over the course of a few days, most of it interesting, if not particularly relevant. He doesn’t know how much of this actually applies to Janus, since he’s not a real snake.

Though he does find out that snakes don’t have eyelids. That would explain the whole no-blinking thing.

Other than his impromptu investigations, they fall into an equilibrium fairly easily. Janus will seek him out at all hours of the day and wrap himself around his arm or neck, sometimes staying awake and aware and sometimes drifting off into sleep. And when he’s fed up with the company, he leaves, disappearing with neither warning nor fanfare. Thomas settles into this new routine with little effort, and decides that if this is all he’s going to get from Janus, he’ll take it.

He gets used to it, so much so that he stops looking every time he feels Janus curl around him. This turns out to be a mistake.

He’s procrastinating, as per usual. His deadline is a full week away, and even Virgil has been unable to provide the urgency that Thomas needs to push through and finish his latest project. He knows that this will only end badly, that he’s going to end up staying up until the early hours of the morning in a few days if he doesn’t get started now, but he simply doesn’t feel like it. So, he’s scrolling through Amazon instead, clicking through pages of items that he neither needs nor particularly wants.

He’s been looking at a lot of frogs, lately. Cute, decorative frogs, the kinds that sit on mantles and don’t do much of anything. And plushies, too, and those are actually tempting. He’s pretty sure that it’s Patton’s influence.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding up his arm so that Janus can see the screen. Janus hisses quietly, and he laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He doesn’t have the money to spend on a bunch of decorative frogs, even if he had a strong inclination toward doing so, but it’s fun to look. He’s seriously considering a stuffed animal, but he’s pretty sure that Logan intends to talk him down from that, so there’s no real need to be concerned about it. Even if he ends up buying one after all, he thinks it would be worth it.

He glances down at Janus, trying to figure out if he’s enjoying this at all, or if he’s just irritated. And that’s when he finally notices the blood.

He freezes up, his muscles tensing, and blinks hard, hoping that it’s a trick of the light, or that spending so many hours doing practically nothing has fried his brain at last. But no; Janus’ scales are dotted with rusty red, and Thomas traces the blood back to a long gash trailing down his side, sluggishly oozing, slowly dripping onto his arm. He stares for a long moment, his mind stalling, and he wonders if the scent of iron flooding his nose is real or imaginary. Or rather, real by a certain standard, since everything to do with his sides is technically imaginary, but oh god, why is he bleeding so much? He thought that his sides could wave off injuries, that nothing could truly affect them unless they wanted it to? Or is that just Logan? And then there’s the question of what did this to him in the first place, and how exactly he’s supposed to treat someone who’s a figment of his imagination, and whether or not any of the real medical supplies he has would work at all—

Focus, Thomas.

It’s like a whisper in his ear, gentle and firm. Logan’s voice. The world snaps into sharp clarity, mind and adrenaline working in tandem.

“Oh my god,” he says, and Janus’ head swivels to face him. The movement is slow, almost lethargic, as if he’s operating on a time delay. “You’re hurt. Okay. Well, not okay. But you’ll be okay.”

He has a first aid kit in the bathroom. He has no idea whether that will help or not, but he won’t know until he tries, as his logic helpfully points out. So the first order of business is to get to the bathroom. He stands, setting his laptop to the side, trying to jostle Janus as little as possible. Now that he’s paying attention, more and more details filter in; Janus’ grip on his arm is looser than usual, his eyes dull and glazed. His hat, usually so perfectly placed, is just slightly askew.

He makes it to the bathroom in short order, yanking the kit out from under the sink and nearly spilling its contents across the floor. He’ll need both hands for this, and he looks to Janus with no small amount of trepidation, wondering how well he’ll take being moved. He doesn’t want to cause him more pain than necessary, and he doesn’t know how aware he currently is, doesn’t know if he’ll lash out if he feels threatened. He gives him an experimental nudge, prodding at him with one finger, and Janus hisses, shifting his coils to hold on tighter.

“C’mon,” Thomas says. “You gotta let me help you, buddy.”

There is is again: buddy. He still doesn’t think it fits quite right, but it seems to slip out anyway, and now is hardly the time to worry about it, not when Janus still shows no sign of budging.

“Please, Janus,” he says, dangerously close to begging. “I promise, I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you, but you need to let me see where you’re hurt.”

Janus’ tongue flickers out, tasting the air, and his eyes seem to focus just a bit. One minute passes, and then another, and Thomas is about to try to remove him by force when finally, he lets go, slithering onto the counter, his motions hesitant and pained, softly hissing all the while. Blood begins to drip onto the sink, the sickening red smearing across the countertop.

“Thank you,” Thomas says, not bothering to hide his relief. “Okay, um, I’ve got bandages. And painkillers, if you want them… can snakes take painkillers?” He sets things out as he names them, slowing as he hits a snag. Not only does he not know if snakes can take painkillers, but he also doesn’t know if there are any other substances in here that would do more harm than good, or if there are any special steps he should take due to his scales, or the fact that he’s cold-blooded. In fact, he has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake, and the idea that he might end up making things worse is enough to send his anxiety ratcheting up a few notches.

Is he overthinking this? He might be overthinking this. But what if he’s not?

Try to remain calm. If you don’t know enough to work within this situation, change the situation.

Logan again, though he’s not sure how that’s supposed to help. He would change the situation if he could— heck, that’s what he’s trying to do— but if it were so simple as wishing this whole scenario away, he would have done it by now. He’s not sure how to—

Oh, wait. Change the situation, or change Janus’ situation?

He has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake. But Janus doesn’t have to be a snake.

He crouches down so that he’s on eye level with Janus, who is limp and unmoving on the sink counter, tracking his motions with clouded eyes. It’s not just the large gash, he realizes; that’s the worst of it, but there are several shallower cuts, all still open and bleeding, and he swallows hard.

“Okay, so, I don’t want to make things any worse,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Do you think you could turn back into a human for me? Just so that I know what I’m doing?”

Not that he knows much about treating humans either, but at least he’d know where to start. Perhaps if Janus’ injuries were less severe, he could work with them in this state, but that prominent gash looks deep and angry, probably about six inches long, wide and painful, rending scales apart and leaking dark blood and god, he is so afraid of making this worse—

Janus stares at him, and doesn’t react.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, because he is. He doesn’t know why Janus only initiates contact with him as a snake, doesn’t know why the very idea of deviating from that seems to disquiet him. Asking him to be human now, like this, almost seems wrong, like they’ll be breaking what understanding they do have between them, breaking the peace they’ve found with each other lately. But then, the peace is already broken, he thinks, has been broken since Janus showed up bleeding. “I know you probably don’t want to. But I want to make this better, and I don’t think I can if you’re uh, shaped like this. I… I guess I’m asking you to trust me.”

It’s a tall order, and he is well aware of that. Janus is Deceit, after all, and Deceit is practically the antithesis of trust. He’ll probably have to work with Janus as a snake after all, and he’s just resolving himself to do the best he can when Janus shifts in place, raising his head.

Thomas isn’t sure how to process what happens next. One part of his brain tells him that the change happens slowly, that Janus’ form stretches and morphs in impossible ways, scales fading away and features rearranging before his eyes. The other part of his brain insists that the shift is instantaneous, that it happens as quickly as blinking, that in one moment, there is a snake curled on the counter and in the next, there is a man, with no gradual transition between the two. But however it happens, Janus now sits in front of him, arms and legs all present, hunched in on himself and wheezing. One hand flies to his side, clutching at his shirt.

Thomas blinks. For a second, his mind fights with itself, trying to decide on what, exactly, he just watched. Then, he decides that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll have a crisis about it later, and that there are more important things to concentrate on.

He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on Janus’ shoulder. “Easy, easy,” he says, raising his voice to be audible over Janus’ gasps. “Are you okay?”

It takes a minute for Janus to get his breathing under control, and when he does, he looks up at Thomas, his expression pinched. “Just fine,” he rasps. “Absolutely perfect, can’t you tell?” His voice is strained, tension showing in the lines around his eyes and in the thin set of his mouth. “Really, Thomas, the fuss is hardly necessary. I—” He cuts off with a slight gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and Thomas feels his heart clench.

“Hm, yeah, no, I think I’ve got the right to fuss a little bit,” he says, hoping his voice stays level. He looks him up and down, searching for the injury, and finds nothing; his shirt appears immaculate, his whole outfit as perfectly assembled as usual, not a rip or tear in sight. If it weren’t for the pain on his face, the tremors wracking his frame, Thomas wouldn’t suspect that he was injured at all, and he frowns. “Can you, uh—” He gestures— “take off your shirt, maybe? So I can see where you’re hurt?”

Janus sighs heavily, as though the request has greatly burdened him. He waves one hand in the air, and his shirt and capelet vanish, revealing his bare torso. Under any other circumstance, Thomas might be fascinated by the scales that trail all along his chest and left arm, but right now, his attention centers on the gash bloodying his side, and the thinner scratches that cover him. They all look bigger than they were before, more serious, and he hopes that he didn’t make the wrong decision in requesting him to shift. If it had been a bad idea, he would have refused, right?

“God, Janus,” he says. “What happened?”

Janus sighs again, rolling his eyes. “A mishap in the Imagination,” he says. “Unfortunately, both Roman and Remus designed the place so that its effects stick around even after leaving.”

… Alright. That’s probably something to talk about later; he doesn’t particularly like the reminder that he has no idea how most of the mindscape works. “But I thought you could heal yourselves?” he can’t help but ask. He vividly remembers the day he met Remus, the way that none of his attacks seemed to affect Logan for more than a few seconds.

“We all can, to some degree,” Janus agrees. “It’s more difficult for some of us than it is for others.” He hesitates, and the next words come out slow and almost defensive. “I am capable of it, if I succeed in persuading myself that the problem doesn’t exist in the first place, but in order to do so, I need to sufficiently distance myself from any negative sensations that accompany the harm. I am… currently finding that difficult.” He glares. “I’ll mange perfectly well, given time. There is no need for any of this.” He waves an arm to punctuate the declaration, and it might have been somewhat convincing if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately curls in on himself, face paling, like he’s pulled something the wrong way.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Well, how about you let me help you anyway, just for my peace of mind?”

Janus stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Finally, he glances away. “Do what you wish,” he says. “If you want to waste time on this, be my guest.”

He hums noncommittally, already inspecting the wound. “I don’t think that taking care of you is a waste of time,” he says, fishing through the first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, looking up just in time to see what can only be an expression of shock fade from Janus’ face, and god, what must he be doing wrong if that is Janus’ reaction to being told that he cares about him? He can’t unpack that right now, or else he might cry, so he holds out the Tylenol instead. “Painkillers?”

Janus nods slightly, and takes two dry. From there, Thomas works in silence, cleaning the wounds as best he can and bandaging them. It takes longer than he expects, and he debates whether or not the long gash will need stitches. He decides not to make the attempt, trusting that what Janus says is true and that he will be able to heal before too long. So he wraps bandages around his torso, and Janus, for his part, remains perfectly still, staring straight ahead, an occasional soft hiss the only thing that betrays his discomfort.

“Okay,” he says quietly, inspecting his handiwork. “I think that’s the best I can do.”

Janus shoots him an unreadable look. “In that case,” he says, “I believe I’ll be going now.”

He hops down from the counter before Thomas can stop him, and his face crumples like a wet sheet of paper. Thomas catches him as his knees give out, hooking his hands under his arms. He is surprisingly light, his skin cool to the touch.

“How about we don’t do that, actually,” he says. “I’ll tell you what, let’s go to my room, and I can work and you can get some rest?”

Janus hisses, trying to jerk away. It’s not difficult to prevent him from doing so; he has all the strength of a floppy pool noodle. “Oh yes, because I’m in dire need of a babysitter,” he spits out, and perhaps Thomas should feel intimidated, but looking at him, at the way all the color has drained from his face, at the way his eyes have glazed over even as they dart around the bathroom, all Thomas can muster up is a deep worry.

“I’m not trying to babysit you,” he says. “Believe me, I know that you of all people don’t need babysitting. But if you try to sink out now, I’m just gonna be stressed out, so if you’d stick around for a little bit, I would really appreciate it.”

Janus stills. The silence stretches on.

“Fine,” Janus says. “Sure. Whatever.”

Thomas restrains himself from letting out a sigh of relief, instead adjusting his grip on Janus until he is only supporting part of his weight. From the look on his face, Janus wants very much to grumble about the indignity of the situation, but miraculously, he remains quiet all the way to Thomas’ room, though he begins to drag his feet when he sees what Thomas intends.

“If you want me to rest,” he says, “I am perfectly capable of doing so in my own room. There’s hardly a need for me to take up space in your bed.”

“Okay,” Thomas says, lowering him to sit on the bedsheets and doing his level best to ignore his glare, “but then I won’t know that you’re alright. Also, I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. You were just, uh, snakier.”

He knows immediately that it is the wrong thing to say. Janus’ face sets into an impassive wall, and he looks away, refusing to make eye contact. Thomas can’t tell what he’s feeling, whether it’s anger or embarrassment or frustration or some stubborn combination of the three. But he settles himself against the headboard without further argument, seemingly determined not to carry on any further conversation, so Thomas resigns himself to the silent treatment and sets up with his laptop on the other side of the bed, several inches placed between them.

The atmosphere is awkward, heavy. They both know that Thomas wants to talk, and they both know that Janus will not reply, or if he does, it will be with sharp sarcasm or otherwise cutting words, an answer that will not answer anything at all. So Thomas doesn’t say anything, merely glances over every now and again to be sure that Janus is still there, is still fine, is still breathing. Every time, he is greeted with the same sight: Janus staring off into the empty space in front of him, face blank, a faint tightness around his eyes the only indication that he is still in pain. There is a wall between them, invisible yet insurmountable, and Thomas has no idea how to breach it.

Why does their relationship feel so off-kilter now? Why are things so natural between them when Janus is a snake, small and speechless and cuddly, and not when he is a human?

“I don’t mean to force you to stay,” he murmurs. “If you’re really that uncomfortable, it’s alright if you leave.”

He’s watching him out of the corner of his eye, and as such, he sees the wince, slight though it may be.

“It’s… not that,” Janus admits. “I am grateful for your concern, truly. I just… so love being in unfamiliar territory.” His voice is a quiet drawl, but laced with exhaustion, his words just shy of slurred together.

He takes a second to parse through the words, and then smiles. “Well, that makes two of us,” he says. “I’d be alright with muddling through together. And look, I know that most of the time, when we hang out, you’re a snake. And that’s fine! One hundred percent fine, if that’s what you’re most comfortable with! But uh, I really wouldn’t mind spending more time with you as, like, a person, too, if that makes sense. Not that you’re not a person when you’re a snake! Wait—” He furrows his brow, trying to untangle his words, and looks over, certain that Janus will at least be amused by his rambling.

He’s not. Because Janus is asleep, his chin resting against his chest and his hat about to fall into his lap. Thomas feels an inexorable sense of fondness sweep over him, and with a gentle movement, he reaches over to pluck the hat from Janus’ head, revealing brown hair that falls in springy waves. He places the hat on the nightstand, casting one last look at Janus before returning his attention to his laptop.

There is plenty of work to do, and he is content to do it here, sitting in bed with Janus napping by his side. So he does, his fingers clacking against the keys long into the night, and Janus sleeps on.

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He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he must, because he wakes, and slowly processes the fact that all is not as he left it. For one, the light is off, the room dark, and his laptop is resting on the nightstand, next to the shadow of Janus’ hat. For another, there is a heavy weight on top of his chest, pinning one of his arms against his side, and in the seconds before his eyes adjust sufficiently to the darkness, he fears the worst, fears that someone has broken into his apartment and… crawled into bed with him, and the irrationality of that idea is enough to dampen his panic. He squints, trying to will his vision into focus, and begins to make out what features he can see of the face pressed against his chest, features that very closely resemble his own, and that is when he remembers: Janus on his arm, Janus injured and bleeding, Janus on his bed, Janus asleep. Janus… still here.

Janus, snuggled up against him, his head resting on his chest, his body curled into his side, latched onto him with both… no, there’s more than two arms. At least four, maybe more; it’s difficult to determine without the light on, because all that Thomas can tell is that he is being very thoroughly hugged, and that it feels very nice.

This fact is distracting enough that it’s a full three minutes or so before he realizes that there is another figure perched on the edge of his bed. Panic roars up in him once again, his heart pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, but then he notices the details, notices the poof of the figure’s sleeves, the wildness of their hair silhouetted against the light that creeps around the edges of the doorframe, the unholy red gleam of their eyes. And he… well, he doesn’t relax, not exactly. But most of his fear sidesteps directly into annoyance.

“Remus,” he hisses, as quietly as he can manage. “What are you doing?”

Remus cocks his head, his eyes shining brighter. He’s crouched almost like a grotesque parody of a cat, ready to pounce. But the Duke himself is still and silent, and it’s very odd. Almost worrying. And when he finally speaks, it’s not at all what Thomas was expecting.

“DeeDee got hurt,” he says, voice a subdued whisper, and Thomas is taken aback, both by the seriousness of his tone and the evident consideration toward not waking Janus up.

“I— yeah,” Thomas replies, uncertain as to where this is going. “I, uh, patched him up as best I could. He said he’d heal soon.” A thought occurs to him, and if Janus weren’t keeping him flat on his back, he’d be sitting bolt upright, finger pointed in accusation. “Wait, he said he was hurt in the Imagination. Did you have something to do with that?”

“I can’t keep an eye on every part of La La Land at once, Thomas.” He shrugs. “It’s not my fault if Snake from Snake Farm wandered into something he shouldn’t have.” He giggles, high-pitched and a little manic, but Thomas wonders at his tone of voice. It’s as irreverent as always, but underneath that— can it be concern? He really didn’t think Remus did concern. “Snakes should know better than to let their guard down. Your mind is dark and full of terrors.” He smiles, several rows of pointed white teeth gleaming an unnatural white in the shadows.

“I don’t even watch—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and then freezes as Janus makes a small sound. Seconds pass, and he waits with bated breath, but Janus doesn’t seem to wake. “Okay, then,” he continues, more quietly. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

Remus blinks, and once again, Thomas is reminded of a cat. A terrible, eldritch horror of a cat, but a cat nonetheless. “DeeDee doesn’t like to be around people when he’s hurt,” he says, rocking back and forth in place. “He doesn’t like people knowing when he’s weak.” He sighs through his nose, his breath whistling more than is natural. “He holes up in his room and doesn’t come out for anything, usually. Not even when I bang on the door and put rats in his air vents.”

Thomas stares, trying to process that. “But he’s here with me,” he says dumbly. “He decided to stay here. He’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to describe what Janus is doing; surely, Remus can see it for himself, can see them engaging in what can only be labeled as cuddling. And it’s not as if this is the first time; it’s just the first time Janus has been human-shaped.

“Yes, he is,” Remus agrees, voice sharp, and he is definitely trying to convey something here, something that Thomas is missing. “Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, you’re just not getting it, are you? Well, that’s fine. Just remember that the snakes on the plane die too, if the plane crashes.”

“Is the plane crashing?” Thomas asks, voice hoarse, hesitant, and once again, Remus smiles, wide and dangerous.

“Not now, maybe,” he says. “But it still could. It always can. That’s the fun thing about airplanes. I could help with that, if you wanted.”

“No thanks,” Thomas is quick to reply.

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, and then pauses. “Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close, you know. So don’t fuck it up.”

It’s such an uncharacteristic statement that by the time Thomas has recovered enough to reply, Remus is gone, melting into the bedsheets in a grotesque puddle of goo, and then, even that disappears. Thomas is left in a dark, quiet room, and he has never felt more awake.

But Janus is still here, still asleep, is holding onto him for dear life and hiding his face against his chest. And it’s something precious, something intimate, something that Thomas feels privileged to see at all, and Remus’ voice rings loud in his head: Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close. Why, then, has he allowed him this? Why has he let Thomas see him at his most vulnerable, no matter how reluctant he was at the start? Why did he choose to stay, rather than leaving once Thomas nodded off?

Each question only leads to more questions, and it’s clear that he won’t receive any answers tonight. So he settles back in as best he can, though it is a long time before he manages to fall asleep again.

In the morning, Janus is gone. He wishes he could be more surprised.

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romansleftshoulderpad · 6 years ago

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A Curse is a Dream Your Heart Makes

HUUUUGE Huge thank you to @max-is-tired for being my wonderful beta and also for them and @justcallmepancake for listening to my constant rambling about this!

Ships: Prinxiety, and just about every combination of Logan and Patton being fathers.

Tags: @fandermom @my-analogical-romance @patchworkofstars @jynxlovesluck @notveryglittery

Warnings: Swearing, curses, Deceit (character) both sympathetic and as a villain, Temporary major character death, caps lock. OP might have missed cleaning up a few of /these guys/

Word count: 19,226

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Roman wasn’t exactly in his room when he woke up. In fact, he didn’t know if he was anywhere, exactly. He wasn’t even sure he woke up. The walls around him looked flat, but outside the window were plenty of layers and dimensions. He was surely dreaming, wasn’t he? He pinched his arm, slightly alarmed to actually feel pain. He looked down at his arm. It was smooth. Too smooth. Unrealistically smooth. Hold on...

If there was one thing Roman excelled at, it was being the resident Disney Trivia master. So if theoretically, he were to wake up inside of a Disney movie, he’d know. And he knew. The only question was: Why?

Okay ‘why’ didn’t matter. He was in a Disney movie, for heaven’s sake! He was going to have some fun with it. He explored his castle to find the nearest stable and set off the follow through with this adventure.

It was a bright and sunny day as Roman rode along. He could have spent hours just enjoying the views, but he had to be The Prince, and when he saw the familiar cobblestone of an old grey castle he knew he was searching in the right direction.

The echo of a soft voice singing to oneself confirmed that Roman was headed in the right direction. He drew closer to a cobblestone wall and leapt off of his high horse. There were enough cracks and gaps between the stone to be able to climb it. Oh, the voice he heard was so lovely and enchanting as it echoed from the old wishing well that Roman knew so well- he had seen this movie a thousand times after all.

He pulled himself to the top of the wall and nearly fell off when he saw the man singing into it. His old black pants were torn and dusty, with an old white blouse tucked into them. He was gorgeous, but that wasn’t the problem. Gorgeous with the voice of an angel, yes, but he was-

“Virgil?!” Roman yelled, promptly falling off of the fucking wall and landing on his chest like an aloof moron.

Virgil jumped away from the wishing well, frozen for a moment as Roman scrambled off of the ground. “How do you know my name?!” Virgil asked.

“Hmm?” Roman asked, totally blanking. Virgil didn’t recognize him? How could he not? Roman had checked the mirror before leaving, and he definitely still looked like himself. Maybe Virgil was just playing the part! That was likely! At least, Roman thought it was likely until he met the other boy’s eyes. Virgil was shaking, terrified even! He definitely had no idea who Roman was.

“Why you’re Prince Virgil, of course!” Roman said, trying to hold his bluff as best as he could. It was then that he realized that not everything was perfectly scripted, was it?

“Oh,” Virgil said, “right.” The silence hurt in a way that could rival any fight they’ve had in the past.

Assuming this was the same Virgil, at least.

“I suppose proper introductions are in order,” Roman said. He bowed dramatically, extending his hands so that his blue cape shook around him. The real Virgil always claimed to hate when he did this. “Prince Roman, at your service.”

Virgil hesitantly bowed in response. “Well, Prince Roman, I really must go. Chores and such.”

“Wait, Vir- Prince Virgil-!” he called out, but his attempts proved fruitless. Virgil was already rushing inside of the castle.

So what was a confused Roman to do to both follow the script and force the villain here to unveil themselves? Sing, of course. “One song,” he started softly. “I have but one song.”

He could see Virgil pause in front of a glass window. “One song, only for you.” Virgil disappeared again, presumably rushing off to the balcony with its iconic red curtains.

“One heart,” Roman projected, “tenderly beating! Ever entreating; constant and true.” His eyes shifted to where the evil queen should appear any second now. Virgil peaked through a curtain. Right. That’s what he was doing. “One love that has possessed me. One love thrilling me through.”

Virgil looked down from the balcony at the ridiculous prince in a ridiculously flowery cape with ridiculous boots that didn’t even look practical. This ridiculous prince that he couldn’t take his eyes off of, almost as if he were under a spell. “One song,” the prince continued, “my heart keeps singing of one love only for you.” Virgil smiled at the prince before disappearing back into the castle. His stepmother would never approve of him, but what she didn’t know couldn’t kill anyone.

Roman spent the next few hours making up for what he considered lost time. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was an animated miracle in 1937, Roman could never give up the chance to explore everything he could. Besides, The Prince hardly played a role in this movie anyway, he’d have days to just unwind and explore.

It was when he saw Patton covered in blood that he decided to make a quick stop. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Patton looked to him, fear, terror, and regret filled his eyes. “The prince,” he mumbled. “The- the prince.”

“What about the prince?” Roman asked, looking down at Patton. He had never seen him this scared before, and the blood splashed across his dull, brown clothing was truly a horrific sight to behold.

“He- he- he,” Patton’s breath was shaky as he tried to stabilize it.

Roman dismounted from his horse yet again and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “You look like you need a drink, sir, would you care to join me for one?”

Patton looked around, his eyes darting all across the forest that seemed to be growing dimmer, deeper, and creepier by the second. “I’m not sure that anywhere would be safe.”

“Come to my castle,” Roman said, “we’ll both be safe there and you can tell me anything you must get off your chest. I won’t tell a soul.”

Patton sighed and nodded his head pleadingly, allowing the prince to lift him onto the horse. They both knew it’d be a long- but needed- conversation.

Upon arriving at the castle, Roman ordered a servant to fetch Patton some clean clothes as he poured two chalices of wine. Chalices? Okay maybe being stuck in a film had some benefits after all.

“Now, tell me what’s troubling you, Patton,” Roman said, pushing a cup towards the hunter.

“How do you know my name?” Patton asked. Roman really needed to fucking learn to stop saying people’s names when they didn’t have a clue who he was.

“Lucky guess,” Roman said, and apparently that was enough of an explanation for Patton. “What’s wrong?”

“The Queen,” he said softly, still rather paranoid that she might overhear, “gave me special orders to kill her stepson- Prince Virgil.”

“The prince is dead?”

“No,” Patton said, shaking his head, “but I had to kill something in his place to keep the queen satiated, at least for a little while.” The breath he realized was frail and shaky, as he concentrated on his bloodstained hands and the chalice that he held. “I fear what might become of me when the queen finds out.”

“You’ll be alright,” Roman said, reassuringly putting a hand on Patton’s arm. “I assure you, I swear on my life, I shall not let her harm you.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to risk your life for me.”

“Your story will have a happy ending,” Roman said, “trust me.”

As days and nights passed, Roman would soon learn that being stuck in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is rather boring for anyone who isn’t Snow White. Although, knowing Virgil, he was sure that being chased through the woods by a knife-wielding Patton wasn’t exactly a picnic either. Still, it’d be nice to know where the story was headed, and he had seen the movie enough times to know where the cottage was. Surely it couldn’t hurt to keep the timeline in order a little bit.

He approached the cottage slowly, peeking in through an old glass window (like a fucking stalker but go off I guess) and watched as a familiar scene came to life. Virgil, dressed now in bolder colors and cleaner clothes, dancing and laughing with seven dwarfs. Roman couldn’t even fathom a time that he had ever seen Virgil this carefree before. True, it wasn’t actually the Virgil that he knew, but it was nice to pretend that it was.

When he saw Dopey glance his way, the prince ducked below the window, hoping to not flip the script more than he already had. He stayed behind the window a bit longer, hoping to make an escape plan, but something held him back. Something, a deep, desperate longing to hear what comes next weighed in his chest until it was too heavy to remove himself from where he sat by the window.

A hushed conversation as the dwarfs’ music ended, but the familiar instrumental started up in Roman’s head as if he were imagining it. It was Virgil’s voice, soft and low, as he began to sing, “Someday my prince will come...”

Oh, he really did sing like an angel. Perhaps this was a dream, a very weird dream, after falling asleep during Snow White, but at this point, Roman didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to listen to the wondrous sound of Virgil’s voice as the sky grew darker and dimmer. His eyelids grew heavy until he fell sound asleep.

Falling asleep was a bad idea, especially when you have an impatient horse to take care of. Oh, it’s also a bad idea to fall asleep while offscreen in a film where your character spends quite a long time being unneeded to the plot as side effects may include being asleep for several days. Yes, this dumbass prince actually fell asleep outside against a house for two days.

He stretched out his sore back, glancing towards the window once more to find the cottage completely empty. “I’m sorry, Destiny,” he said, petting the horse gently, “let’s get you back home and I’ll feed you extra carrots, alright?” He mounted Destiny and began riding off towards the castle, but strangely, slowed down, headed towards a trail of fallen apples. Roman tried to steer the horse away, knowing damn well those apples were poisoned. “Let’s go, Destiny, we need to make a stop before heading back home.”

Destiny listened to Roman, trotting in a path that seemed almost pre-determined, slowing down towards a gathering of animals that stood still with their heads bowed. Roman dismounted from Destiny, spotting the dwarfs and the famous glass coffin.

He gestured at Destiny to stay still as he walked slowly to the glass coffin. “Do you mind if I say my own farewell?” he asked, the dwarfs looking up to him, some with faces of awe, others with sorrow.

“Go ahead,” one of them, presumably Doc, said.

Roman stood over Virgil’s still body. He was a breathtaking sight as he laid there peacefully. His black hair was pushed out of his face and every freckle and eyelash seemed to be perfectly placed and sun-kissed. Roman brushed a hand against Virgil’s cheek- it was ice cold- and tried not to flinch. He placed his lips gently on the other’s in hopes to wake him up.

He held his breath and stepped silently aside. “You have no problem with kissing sleeping princes I see,” Virgil’s voice teased. Roman’s head shot up, followed by each of the dwarfs and the forest animals around them. Virgil was sitting on the coffin with his legs crossed like a child. “You found me.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief. “I broke the spell,” he said with a smile.

“Spell?” Virgil asked.

“With true love’s kiss of course,” Roman said, smirking as he saw Virgil’s face go crimson. The fake Virgil’s face was crimson; the real Virgil would never have woken up to Roman, and if not for simply playing a part, Roman would never have been able to wake up the real Virgil.

“What a wonderful observation,” a voice coed from behind Roman and in seconds flat he was out like a light. He wasn’t sure how much time had past when he woke up in the foliage of a very different forest with a very different horse staring down at him.

He sat up, looking upon his own clothing and at the world order. The world far behind him was flat and two-dimensional, colored only with dull cool tones. His own clothes were black and brown and he bit back a smile.

Though, the smile wasn’t hard to fight when he came to the troubling realization of not knowing why he was here. Surely breaking the spell on “Snow White” should have brought him back, right? Perhaps he would have to “awaken” all of the other sides.

He followed the hum of a familiar tune, mostly expecting to find Patton, though he could see how Logan would also fit the narrative of young Briar Rose. He walked alongside his horse, following it deeper into the forest where his next prince awaited.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

There was a deep laugh from the trees behind him.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself, you wicked fiend.”

“Oh thank you for the compliment, Roman,” the Dragon Witch laughed. Roman turned around to face her in her human form. Her long black hair made her look ominous in the shadows. Her green eyes sparked with wickedness and- all in all- she kind of looked like Angelina Jolie.

“Care to explain what I’m doing here?” Roman asked. “And why is he here?”

“Oh, silly boy, don’t you remember?” the Dragon Witch cooed with a menacing laugh.

“I will cut out your spleen again,” Roman threatened, pointing his sword towards the witch.

“You’re no fun,” she pouted in response. “But worry not little prince, it’ll come back to you. In time...” Her words faded away as she sunk back into the shadows and seemed to vanish from existence, leaving Roman completely alone. He heard singing. Almost alone.

He peered behind the trees to see where Virgil was dancing, planning the exact moment when he could butt into the dance. He ran in while Virgil’s back was turned, pushing multiple birds out of the way and gently clasping his hands around the unknowing prince’s, following the dance he had secretly rehearsed with Patton time and time again back in the mindscape.

“You’ll love me at once,” Virgil sang in a quiet, muttered tone. His eyes were closed and he seemed totally separate from the world around him, but totally not connected all at once.

“The way you did once,” Roman continued, his voice deep and rich, “upon a dream.” Virgil pulled away from the dance with ease- something Roman accounted for with his loose grip- and stared at the stranger with shock and horror. “I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh, no, it’s just that- I really shouldn’t be- you’re-”

“A stranger?” Roman asked with a smirk. “Oh, but we’ve met before,” he continued. Even if Virgil didn’t remember the mindscape, surely he must remember being Snow White, right? Right?

“We- we have?” Virgil asked, his brow knitted and Roman couldn’t help but notice his lack of makeup.

“Why of course,” Roman flirted, taking Virgil’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You said it yourself; we met once upon a dream.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, taking his hands from Roman. “That was just a silly song.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Roman purred, a soft grin appearing on his face. He extended a hand for Virgil to take, feeling somewhat more hopeful and optimistic at the prospect of spending time with the other side than usual. Virgil hesitated for a moment before visibly relaxing and placing one hand in Roman’s and another on the prince’s shoulders. He was letting Roman lead. The two began to fall into a gentle rhythm as they circled around each other through a clearing in the woods. “My name is Roman.”

“Angel,” Virgil said. “My name is Angel Storm.”

“Angel?” Roman asked, his mind trying to think back to the last time he had seen this movie. The details were foggy and broken in his mind.

“It’s stupid, I know,” Virgil- Angel, said.

“No!” Roman spit out. “I think it’s... nice. Yeah, it’s nice.”

Angel’s face softened, blushing almost. “Well, thank you,” he said. “That really means something.”

Their dance slowed until they pulled apart by an old tree atop a cliff overlooking the nearby kingdoms. “Can you imagine what it would be like to rule?” he asked quietly; even he could not tell if he were merely reciting a line or expressing a deep thought.

“It’d be horrifying,” Angel said through a forced laugh. “I couldn’t imagine the stress that would put on someone. All those people judging you? Being unable to please everyone? That’s horrific, Roman.”

“I’m sure it couldn’t be all that bad,” he said quietly, slipping into the thought as he subconsciously brushed his hand against Angel’s. “If you had someone to rule with.”

“Yeah,” Angel sighed, taking Roman’s hand and falling against the prince’s side, “I suppose you’re right.”

They stayed against each other’s sides for what felt like hours as the sun began to set. A flood of pinks, oranged, and lilacs blanketed the buildings below. “I should get going,” Angel said. “It’s getting dark.”

“Will I get to see you again?”

“Swing by here tomorrow,” Angel said. “My uncles are throwing me a birthday party at our cottage just past where you found me. You should be there.”

Roman smiled, pressing kisses to each of Angel’s fingers. “Then there I shall be.” Angel blushed, smiling up at Roman, their breaths catching for a split second. They both parted their separate ways with a smile, blissfully unaware of the series of rather unfortunate events that would fall before them in the next couple of hours.

Roman mounted his horse, letting the animal take him home to his own kingdom, racing fast enough to feel the wind in his hair and the adrenaline in his system. Whenever he got to his own realm, he surely would like to enjoy more scenery and adventure. Hell, he’d even invite Logan to make sure everything was accurate.

“Speak of the devil,” Roman muttered with a small smile, the rush of the night still overtaking him.

“Roman!” Logan yelled; the prince pulled back on the reigns of his horse as he approached the other man. Logan looked different, older, creeping into his sixties but with the same strict posture he always had. “Roman, come down from there- you look absolutely preposterous.”

“Says who?” Roman teased, leaping from the saddle.

“Says anyone who can see you now,” Logan retorted. “You cannot meet your future spouse looking like- like- like some sort of stable boy!”

“Oh but I’ve already met him,” Roman said.

“You- You have?”

“Of course I have!” Roman announced. “Once upon a dream!” He grabbed Logan’s hands, twirling him around the castle grounds.

“Roman, stop this instant!” Logan demanded, pulling himself away from his son’s nonsense. “When did you meet Prince Virgil? Oh, we must be telling Patton-“

“I didn’t,” Roman said with a smirk.

“But you said-“

“I met the man I’m going to marry.” Even if his words were contradictory- and untrue towards the real Virgil- he couldn’t help but feel giddy as he said them. It was an iconic scene, truly, and he was just happy to take part.

“Roman, you must give up on this dream nonsense!” Logan snapped. “Wake up and face the facts, Roman. You are a prince you must marry someone royal!”

“You’re living in the past, Father! This is the 14th century! Nowadays-” Roman smirked to himself, biting down on his lip as he tried to fight back a giggle. He always wanted to say that.

“Nowadays, I am still king,” Logan said, “and I command you to be sensible!”

“Be sensible and marry the man I fell in love with!” Roman quickly mounted on his horse, starting away before Logan could run after him.

“Yes! Marry the- wait no! Damnit, Roman, get back here! Roman! ROMAAAAAN!”

Roman laughed as he rode, Logan’s yells being drowned out by distance and hooves galloping against a cobblestone road. He had that same feeling of wind in his hair as his cape flowed behind him and adrenaline coursed through his veins as he ventured deeper and deeper into the woods.

Roman, on his horse, trotted up to the familiar old cottage, finding it dark and empty in appearance. Maybe it was a surprise party and Angel hadn’t arrived yet. He dismounted his horse, knocking on the old wooden door. No answer. He turned the handle quietly, listening to the creak of the hinges as he entered the dark room. It was empty- and far too late for him to leave.

“Get him,” a cold voice ordered. Before he could properly adjust to the darkness, tens of hundreds of minions and monsters attacked him from all angles, constricting his limbs to his body with ropes tight like boa constrictors until he found himself completely tied up and hardly able to breathe.

“You are such a bitch,” he growled.

“I set a trap for a prince, and yet I catch a peasant,” the dragon witch said, sunlight seeming to fall towards her as she looked up at Roman with her lips parted in a sultry smirk.

“Can you tell me why I’m here now?”

“Impatient as always, Roman, you really must improve your temper.”

“Oh my GOSH, I will KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Roman yelled. “And this sword.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” The dragon witch shook her head disapprovingly. “When will you learn some manners, Roman? Why else do you think you’re here in the first place?”

“You foul heathen, what have you done?!”

The dragon witch rolled her eyes, flicking a nail against Roman’s forehead. The prince recoiled in pain against her sharp nail. “I cursed you, you absolute buffoon.”

“Ah.”

“All right, boys,” she said, gesturing to the minions. “Let’s take him away.”

Roman fell to his back, being hoisted into the air by small goblin-like dragon-ish... things. He sighed, this would be a long existence.

+++

Angel- no, Virgil?!- was absolutely distraught. It was a nightmare come true, being here. He had cried himself into absolute fatigue. Maybe the panic attacks were partially to blame for the tiredness as well. So, his uncles were not, in fact, his uncles, but three strange... fairies? They had adopted him and now they were supposed to just.. Give him back?

He sighed, looking towards his disastrous reflection in the mirror, dark tear tracks had stained his cheeks and his eyes were redder than he had ever seen them before. If only Roman could see him now...

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Roman would think he stood him up. Roman would think he did this on purpose. Virgil’s chest grew tight again as he tried to count his breaths and counteract the possibility of another panic attack. It was so unbearable overwhelming. He couldn’t deal with this. Not right now, not ever. Counting his breaths was nearly rendered pointless when a soft presence entered the room. It was a glowing green... thing. He relaxed into a trance, almost as if he had been put under a spell.

He stood up from his vanity, all of the fatigue falling from his body and being replaced by calming sleepiness. He walked towards the presence, following it as it crept up towards a staircase he hadn’t bothered to notice before. Almost as if it hadn’t previously existed.

It hadn’t taken long before Virgil’s uncles, Emile, Remy, and Toby, and arrived at the castle tower where Roman had been held as prisoner. They told him everything they had gone through in the past sixteen years and warned him of the Dragon Witch’s evil power. Ah, so that’s the fake reputation she’s given herself around here. Armed with the legendary Sword of Truth and Shield of Virtue, Roman and the three fairies began to escape. Said escape didn’t go long without being caught. Diablo, the old raven famously owned by Maleficent (and temporarily borrowed by the Dragon Witch), squaked and cawed upon seeing them, alerting hundreds of minions, goblins, and monsters of their presence.

“Worry not, Prince Roman, you can handle them,” Emile whispered in his ear, hardly any bigger than a butterfly. The other two fairies shot him a disapproving glare. “With our help of course,” he amended.

The four races their way out of the castle, cutting through hordes and blocking attacks with Roman’s sword. Emile used his wand to turn a flock of incoming arrows and spears into falling daisies and daffodils. He giggled to himself at the sight, getting grabbed by the wing by Remy who insisted on no distractions.

They kept running, Emile and Toby turning any weapons or hazards into lovely things like flowers and leaves. They kept running, Remy flying ahead of the group to free Roman’s horse from its chains. Roman jumped on the saddle, pressing his legs into the creature’s sides and running off as Diablo continued to caw overhead. Remy happily shut him up with a spell.

That was when they found her, the Dragon Witch, in all of her monstrous glory. A great black beast (with a tiny little witch hat) towered over them. “I’m sorry, Prince Roman, I don’t think our magic can assist with-“

“Fuck this,” Remy said, countering over Emile, “good fuckin’ luck, Babe.”

“Don’t worry,” Roman said to the fairies, “I got this. Just try to take care of those thorns further up the path.” The fairies all nodded, too eager to fly away from the battle to question Roman’s foresight.

“What a silly little prince,” the Dragon Witch cooed, her voice deeper and menacing. “Still can’t remember why you’re here can you?”

“Can we just fight and get this over with? I’m getting real sick of your mind games reeeeally quickly.”

“In a rush to deliver true love’s kiss, are we?” The Dragon Witch laughed, spitting fire towards Roman and knocking him off of his horse. The prince hid behind his shield, feeling the heat of the fire around him. “I knew you were oblivious but I didn’t know you were desperate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Dragon Witch rolled her eyes. “This, Roman, is why I fucking cursed you.”

Roman held his sword, ready to strike, catching himself in a sword fight against a single one of her claws. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

“Just admit that you’re in love with Virgil, holy shit,” she said. “Literally none of this would have happened if you did that in the first place, but nooo I have to teach Sir Sing-a-lot here a lesson.”

Roman dropped to the ground as she swung a claw close to him. “This is hardly the groundbreaking fight this universe promised me!” he yelled, jumping from where she spit down fire by his feet.

“Well life isn’t fair, is it?” she laughed and cackled.

“Sword of Truth,” he muttered under his breath, backing away from the monster, “fly swift and sure that evil die and good endure.” With careful precision, he drove the sword into the dragon’s heart, watching her fall to the side and shrivel to her human form with the last of her remaining energy.

She reached up, grabbing Roman’s shirt and pulling him down towards her. “Don’t break the script. You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she hissed as the color drained from her face and the light vanished from her eyes. She released her grip and fell to the ground. Dead.

Roman took a deep breath, pulling the sword from out of her chest. He regrouped with his horse and, eventually, the three fairies as they quickly rushed him to King Patton’s Castle.

Roman ran up the staircase to where Virgil was laying. Not as lifeless as he had been in that glass coffin, but eerily lost beyond hope. Though, perhaps, not entirely hopeless. Roman sheathed his sword, steadying his breaths as he watched Virgil’s chest- he had to be sure he was breathing. The rise and fall of his chest was slow and small, but a rise and fall nonetheless. Roman stood over the prince, brushing the hair away from his face. He cupped his hand around Virgil’s cheek, leaning in slowly and carefully. He had the eerie feeling something was about to go wrong- and perhaps it was.

He connected their lips softly and fearfully. He felt energy shoot through his chest, infecting his body with its own cure. The power of true love’s kiss. Why hadn’t this happened last time? It wasn’t like he was in love now. Roman shook off the feeling, assuming the energy as a side effect of the curse.

Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, his face falling to a relieved smile. Roman blinked back at him in shock, opening his mouth to say something when suddenly his vision left him. Not for long, only a moment or two, but when it returned, he was somewhere else entirely.

“Okay,” Roman said with a sigh through gritted teeth, only a little salty that he didn’t get to finish Sleeping Beauty. He had to go through Cinderella now. “Let’s get this over with.”

He went through the story, waiting for the ball, rolling his eyes at every woman who tried to court him until he saw Virgil in the ballroom. He got up from his throne, tracking down the carmel-haired boy in the blue suit. They danced until the clock struck midnight, following the script line by line, making everything absolutely perfect. Roman had to head the dragon witch’s warning.

The clock struck midnight, Virgil’s face completely paling. “I have to go,” he said quietly.

“Can’t you stay just a bit longer?” Roman asked, hating the feeling in his chest.

“I- I really can’t-“ Virgil said. “My stepmother- she would- well, she’d-“

“Then, just, one last thing before you leave?” Roman asked.

Virgil took a deep breath, his eyes far away from Roman and right at the ticking clock tower. Roman grabbed the collar of Virgil’s jacket and pulled him forward, locking their lips in a quick moment of impulse and passion. Roman wanted Virgil to kiss back- oh God he was desperate for it- but the moment never came.

“I have to go,” Virgil said as Roman pulled away. The prince released his grasp on the commoner and watched him flee the castle. Roman knee the story of Cinderella like he knew the back of his hand; Virgil was running to escape the possibility of being caught when the spell wore off, so why did Roman feel like he had scared him off?

When the ball had ended, Roman stayed out on the balcony, cold air sobering him up from the intoxication that Virgil had poisoned him with. “I broke the script,” he muttered quietly to himself. “I broke the script, oh goodness gracious, what have I done?”

The wind continued to howl through the kingdom, freezing Roman’s cheeks and ears. His breath was carried through clouds against the wind, dissipating just as quickly as they were created. Roman didn’t get any sleep that night.

They carried on through the story- they always did. Assemble a search party, spend too many hours going door to fucking door, find Virgil, try on the glass slipper, happy ending, voilà! If only it were that easy.

Roman took it upon himself to fit the shoe to everyone at the ball that night. He was knelt on the ground, looking up at Virgil as he held the shoe in his hand. He requested a moment alone, and everyone (including prying Stepsisters) were removed from the room.

“My... deepest apologies if I ever made you uncomfortable,” Roman said quietly. “You were in a rush. It was very un-princely of me to hold you back.”

“It’s all forgiven, your highness.”

Roman let out a deep sigh. “But it doesn’t have to be,” he muttered, “I don’t want you to forgive me only for my status.”

“Your highness, I-“

“Roman,” the prince said with a smile. “You can call me Roman.”

“Roman,” Virgil said with a smile, “I forgive you.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief, holding up the glass slipper to slide onto Virgil’s foot. A sudden crash from the next room over (followed by yelling from Virgil’s stepmother and stepsisters) scared Roman, causing him to fumble with the shoe and drop it, sending shards of glass across the floor. Roman’s eyes widened in horror, believing that he had ruined the script completely and that he’d be trapped here forever. (Not that being trapped with this Virgil would have been a bad thing.)

Virgil reached over to gently pet Roman’s hair, letting him know that he was here and that he could comfort him. “It’s okay,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his apron, “I have another.”

He handed the relived prince the shoe of glass and gave him reassurance as Roman slid the shoe into place. “Virgil,” Roman said, just before fully fitting the glass against skin, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

With a flash of light, Virgil was gone, and all the remained was the sparkling ocean and salty sea air. The ship’s crew hummed and sang in their own quiet siren’s song. It was almost enough to make Roman forget about dragons, curses, and poisoned apples. Almost. “Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” Roman pondered aloud.

“Yes, the weather is quite satisfactory today,” the man standing beside him noted in response. Unlike the rest of the crew, he was dressed in pristine clothing and a perfectly ironed coat. He kept a pipe in his breast pocket and wore silver circular lenses.

“Of course you’d say that, Logan,” Roman muttered with a chuckle.

“I can only hope that your birthday celebration this evening will be rendered adequate,” the man continued.

Roman took another breath full of salty air and sunshine. “I’m sure it will be wonderful, Lo.”

Wonderful is a broad expectation, but one that many would agree that such a celebration did not meet. There was a storm. A horrible, loud, crashing storm, rocking the boat across hostile waves as sailors struggled to hold on and stay still. Men were already scrambling onto emergency boats when a strike of lightning hit the sail, quickly setting it aflame. Roman had to choose between the boats and his dog. He chose the dog.

“ROMAN! BE CAREFUL!” Logan yelled as he and the crew began to float away aimlessly.

“Just get everyone to safety!” Roman yelled back, dodging a fallen post. “I’ll be alright!”

Max’s barks grew louder and more frantic. The heat was growing closer and closer, hotter and hotter, towards Roman as sparks gave love bites to his arms and ankles. He ran up a set of old stairs that cracked with every step and completely shattered once he made his way to the top. Max looked frantically up at the prince who now held him in his arms. From the side of his eye, Roman could see where the flames were heading. He tossed Max into the water, making the drop as short as he possibly could. He let out a deep breath of relief as Max swam towards the crew until he was close enough for Logan to pull him into the boat. Perfect. Now Roman just had to find an escape route for himself before-

BOOM!

Ashes fell from the sky like deadly snowfall as waves carried the crew away and they were faced with the choice of finding their prince or saving their lives. They began to row, knowing there would be a lot to explain in the morning.

Roman was completely unconscious by the time he hit the water, and he wouldn’t wake up until hours later at dawn on an old beach shore. He felt a hand brushing against his cheek and playing with his hair as a voice hummed a quiet yet comforting tune. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that it was Virgil who had saved him.

“What would I give to live where you are?” Virgil mumbled along to the melody he had been humming. “What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you smiling at me?”

“Prince Roman!” A voice yelled. Roman shot up, opening his eyes quickly as a shiny purple tail disappeared into the water. “Oh, Roman, thank God that you’re alright. We should be getting you back to the castle.”

Roman kept his eyes on the water as he stood (with worried assistance from Logan) and began to walk towards the castle. With a sigh, he gave up on trying to spot Virgil one last time ignoring the way his heart sank with an old shipwreck. He’d see Virgil again, but waiting for that moment seemed daunting and impossible.

With a deep inhale of sea air, Roman pushed down his feelings. He didn’t need to deal with pesky, complicated emotions. He just needed to go on with the story. As well as ignore how much he was turning into Logan.

It was during one all too familiar scene that he swore he was going to crack. Crickets, frogs, and even the wind seemed to be harmonizing together in a tune that Roman would often sing at 3am much to the dismay of his fellow sides. He was just drifting along the lagoon sitting across from Virgil as lightning bugs and stars danced together in a beautiful waltz. Looking at him, Roman could have sworn that Virgil was getting prettier each time he went through this vicious cycle. It was maddening.

“So... you don’t talk much, huh?” Roman asked. Virgil shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders. Roman almost caught himself staring at how prominent Virgil’s exposed collarbones were with the flowy blouse he was wearing. Roman knew the real Virgil would have hated being exposed and holding his hair back with a fancy purple bow, but, he looked rather nice in it. Roman had to stay focused. He couldn’t let something as simple as shoulders distract him- What was he? A high school boy? Absolutely not! “Alright, maybe I can guess your name,” he said, fighting back a smirk.

“Hmm...Thomas? No. Patton? Logan?” Virgil shook his head so much Roman thought it might fall. “Angel? Hmmm... Virgin?”

Virgil shook his head with his face scrunched up in disapproval. Roman couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Definitely not then,” he said. “Virgil?” The boy in front of him nodded with a soft smile and Roman wondered if it would be easy to cut a few corners and get out of this story early.

Simply to break the curse. Not because he wanted to kiss Virgil. Definitely not. Not like it was rather unfair that their only kisses had been while Virgil was unconscious or in a hurry and therefore Roman had no idea what it felt like to properly kiss this boy. Definitely not.

He leaned in, shifting his entire body closer to Virgil, who subtly did the same. He laid a hand against Virgil’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath his own and feeling a tug at his chest that longed to feel Virgil’s lips against his own. He leaned in closer, his heart rate increasing more and more. The two bumped noses and broke into affectionate giggles, but never strayed from the moment ahead of them. Roman’s eyes began to close as the focused on Virgil’s slightly agape mouth. Virgil wanted this as badly as Roman did.

Virgil wanted this for different reasons, Roman had to remind himself. Virgil was breaking his own curse. This wasn’t the Virgil that Roman had always known nor was it any Virgil he had actually met before. This was a clone. A carbon copy. A creature of the sea simply trying to fulfill his own end of a poorly written contract.

Yet something within Roman didn’t care. Some stupid, minuscule, impulsive aspect of himself didn’t care about curses or contracts or plot lines. Some stupid, minuscule, impulsive aspect of Roman just wanted to kiss the mute boy in front of him and never do anything else ever again. His eyes stayed closed as he felt Virgil’s breath against his skin and felt his own breath hitch as his skin shivered in the best way possible. There was an infinitesimal amount of space between them but it felt like an infinite void. Just a little closer...

Roman’s heart jumped and his eyes snapped open as the boat suddenly fell sideways, dropping them both into the water. Roman couldn’t seem to swim upwards. He felt something tug at his shirt only to open his eyes and see a sea serpent- A merman? Definitely a merman- staring down at him with green scales across half of his face. “Don’t break the script,” he hissed before releasing Roman’s shirt and swimming away in nearly an instant. Roman quickly swam upwards as his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you okay?” he asked Virgil when he came up to the surface. The other nodded slowly. “Good. We should get back to the castle. It’s... better to get some rest.”

Roman didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes he was met with the same memories on loop. He saw himself almost kissing Virgil. He saw Deceit. He saw the Dragon Witch dying by his sword. He opened his eyes for a moment before closing them again. He saw himself almost kissing Virgil again. He tried not to focus on that. He opened his eyes once more. He saw the first time he kissed Virgil. And the second. And the third. He climbed out of bed, deciding that maybe it was just better not to try to sleep tonight. He was terrified of what he might see if he did.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He snuck out of the castle and found himself a place to sit on a group of rocks by his window and began to fidget with the flute famously played by Prince Eric. He brought the cold metal to his lips with a deep inhale as he tried to let some sense of musicality take over him as he unleashed his thoughts into the wind. It wasn’t a tune he was very familiar with, and at first, it was hardly in tune, but it felt semi-natural to him.

Until his harmony had a melody to go with it. A man, walking along the beach, humming a tune that fits perfectly with Roman’s but yet... one he had never heard before. He stopped playing, slowly lowering the instrument from his mouth and holding it in his fist before following the man whose voice seemed so seductively calming. Roman’s memories grew fuzzier and fuzzier as he focused only on following the man in front of him; the closer he got, the worse his memory grew until even the present was nothing but a fuzzy blur in a fading stream of consciousness.

Everything from that moment on seemed to fast forward with Roman seeing to have little to no control over his actions but complete apathy towards doing so. It wasn’t until his own crashed wedding- Wedding?!- that his temporary curse was broken and that he was even aware that it had been cast. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before he was impaling the front end of a ship into the stomach of a massive sea-serpent Deceit.

He found himself in a familiar scene, shipwrecked on the shore as the sun shines down on his face. He pulled himself up and saw Virgil nervously waving at him as he rose from the water. As he walked out of the water. Roman stood watching as the water seemed to cling to and from around Virgil as he walked onto the shore in a sparkling blue dress. Roman couldn’t help but run to Virgil and pull him into a tight hug. “I thought I lost you,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Whatever I did while I was cursed- however I hurt you- I’m so sorry.”

��It’s okay, Roman,” Virgil said with a smile.

Roman gasped, pulling away just enough to see Virgil’s face. “You can talk!” he said excitedly.

“I can talk,” Virgil repeated with a smile. He had his happy ending, and somehow that pulling feeling was back in Roman’s chest.

“Can I kiss you?” Roman asked, his voice as quiet as the tiniest of mice and spoken with the carefulness of dancing through broken glass.

“You may,” Virgil said, smiling and happily leaning in as Roman wrapped one hand around his waist and the other around his neck as he pulled him into the sweetest and deepest of kisses. For the first time it felt... real. Roman felt like he was acting with his heart and not a script. He felt warm and loved and he wanted Virgil to feel the same thing. He pulled him as close as he could and nothing else mattered. He was bound to a curse that made it easier and easier to fall in love and he feared that when he opened his eyes all of it would be gone. He’d wake up and never get to fall in love with Virgil again.

“I love you so much,” Roman mumbled as they pulled apart, his lips brushing against the other’s with every word and his eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out every bad thing in the world around them. “And I’m so scared of losing you.”

“You won’t lose me, Roman. I’ll always be here. Waiting to find you over and over and over again.”

Roman felt a single tear fall down his cheek as he traced his thumb along Virgil’s jaw. “And I’ll love you every single time.” With a deep breath, he opened his eyes. The feeling of Virgil’s warmth against his fingertips was the last to go as he found himself alone in an old castle.

It was cold there. He heard a knock on the door in front of him. It echoed through the long hallways of the castle. There was a second knock, harsher and more demanding; whoever was out there was growing impatient. Roman glanced over to a mirror hanging along the wall before reaching towards the door handle. He was 19 again, and, unfortunately, he knew exactly who he was.

He opened the door and saw more cloak than woman, but it was too painfully obvious who this “stranger” was. She was back from the dead and madder than ever. “A night of safety in exchange for a rose, your highness?”

“Of course,” Roman said. He was too tired to fight. He was too tired to keep going through with this.

“What?” The woman asked.

“You can come in,” Roman said. “Surely it’s freezing out there. And keep the rose, you need not to pay for your own health and safety.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” the woman said slowly. She followed the prince through the castle, casting a slow spell as she entered.

Roman invited her to sit in a plush chair in front of a lit fireplace. He ordered Emile to fetch a fresh pot of tea for their guest. He sat on the floor.

“Surely, Roman, you aren’t as stupid as you look,” the woman said from beneath her cloak. He didn’t need to see her face to see her confusion towards her behavior; it was written all over her body.

“Perhaps I’m not,” Roman said. “I really am sorry about, you know, stabbing you.”

“You’re not being mean. Why aren’t you being mean? You’re going to ruin this story,” the witch warned.

Roman shrugged. “Don’t feel like it, I suppose. It’s so easy to be mean, but so exhausting.” He looked to the roaring fire and felt the warmth on his skin as he tried to suppress the longing for the summer sun that had kissed his skin only moments ago. He tried to suppress his longing for the boy who had kissed his lips during those same moments. “I do have... a question, though.”

“Ask away.”

“Why do the staff get cursed? They are all innocent in every variation of this story. Innocent in every version of this movie. They’ve done nothing wrong. Why curse them?”

“Because life isn’t fair,” the witch seethed, subconsciously pressing a hand to the scar over her chest.

The prince looked up at her with a child’s pleading eyes. “But... why?”

“To teach the prince that his actions have consequences,” she said. Around them, the walls started the grow older and darker as bits and pieces began to crumble off. “Just like right now.”

Roman eyes shut right as he curled in on himself in pain. He groaned and yelled, feeling himself be torn apart and mutilated in unfathomable ways. “I’m sorry!” he shouted out to the witch. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” When he tilted his head towards the sky, the witch was long gone leaving a silver mirror and on ordinary rose in her place. Roman cringed at the sound of claws against metal as he tried to hold the mirror in his hands. The sight ahead of him was unrecognizable beyond belief save for the same pair of brown eyes.

He apologized to each of his staff members individually, holding onto the hope that Virgil would come and rescue him soon. ‘Soon’ was an underestimation. Days blended into weeks which fell into months until he was no longer Prince Roman. Neither appearance nor heart was the same as they had been five years ago. Six years ago. Seven years ago. He could hardly stand to see himself in the mirror. He had torn apart every picture of him that surrounded the castle halls.

His 27th birthday has come and gone but he had hardly cared. In fact, he doubted he would have even noticed if not for the tiny card he had received from Emile. It was crudely made and nearly illegible, but it was the best a clock could do.

He spent countless hours in the castle library. Deep down he supposed that, back home, Logan would have scoffed and teased at the idea of Roman studying so much literature. As he cracked open the spine of another old book, Logan vanished away into nothing more than a distant memory. He studied languages, history, science, and most importantly of all, he studied fairytales. Old fairytales and new fairytales; he had to cling on to the last bit of hope in his heart.

Another month and one more year passed. Still no sign of ever getting away from this curse. He was nearing 29 and the rose was starting to wilt. His patience was wearing thin. He had heard the whispers down the halls. Echoes of doubt from his staff and from his own subconscious. He was growing hopeless.

It was a cold winter night. There was a knock on the door. Roman didn’t answer. He decided that whoever was out there could freeze to death. He didn’t care. He wanted to be alone.

“Hello?” Logan called out as he knocked on the stone castle doors. It creaked open slowly, and he carefully stepped in. “I don’t wish to intrude!” His voice echoed down the endlessly empty hall, bouncing back at him tauntingly. “Hello?!”

He stepped completely into the hall jumping when the door slammed shut behind him. “Is anyone home? I- I really don’t want to be a bother but there’s a terrible storm! My- My horse ran off! Please, I just need somewhere to stay for the night.” He took a candelabra from a nearby table and used it as a torch to light his way down the endless hall.

“Perhaps we can be of some assistance,” a voice said with a chuckle.

Logan spun around, but couldn’t see a single living being in sight. “Hello? Who are you?” He felt something tap his shoulder but when he turned he saw only the candle in his hand.

“Right here, Monsieur!”

“G’ah!” Logan yelled, dropping the candelabra and falling backwards, cringing at the sound of metal hitting the ground.

“Ow,” the candle moaned picking himself up and dusting himself off.

“Now you’ve done it!” a clock yelled- wait WHAT?!- as it sauntered towards the candelabra. “You’ve scared the poor man half to death!”

“Dot, ma amie, look at him!” the candle said, gesturing to Logan’s greeting hair and wrinkled eyes. “He’s halfway there anyway!”

“Apollo! That’s rude!” the clock- Dot?- scolded.

“What kind of machinery is this?” Logan asked, sitting up and holding Dot in his hands. “Extraordinary! The level of fine detail in this thing- it’s practically alive!”

“Alive and has boundaries!” Dot yelled, wiggling her way out of Logan’s arms.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Logan apologized, gently placing Dot down on the ground.

“Oh you must be cold, Monsieur,” the candle said.

“Remy, no,” Emile said under his breath. “What about the master-“

“Follow me, Monsieur!” Remy said, hopping along the floor as Logan gently followed, mesmerized by such complex machinery. He was led to an old chair in front of an unlit fireplace; Remy quickly fixed that.

“Oh, Mr. Potts!” Remy called. “Won’t you please fetch some tea for our guest?”

“Keep your voice down!” Dot cried out.

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Dot.” On a rolling cart, a teapot appeared surrounded by a chipped teacup, a sugar bowl, and a dish full of cream with a twin full of honey. “Oh, you look so tired,” Emile commented with a soft sigh, “you must have had a troubling journey to get here. Do you like chamomile?”

“I do find it to be a rather satisfying beverage, thank you,” he said, mixing in a single lump of sugar to his cup of tea. “My horse ran off shortly before I got here. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get home before the night is over.”

“Oh, dear, you’ll be safe here with us,” Emile said. Logan began to relax as he sipped his tea from the sleeping cup. With a hush of wind, the objects grew deathly still. Sensing their tension, Logan carefully put the teacup next to Emile.

“Why are you here?!” a voice growled, echoing across the room. A shadow of a man leapt toward the ground, staring in between Logan and the fireplace as he towered over the aging man. “Have you come to gawk at the beast who lives in this castle?!”

“No! Never!” Logan said, his voice getting higher by the syllable.

“I think you ought to be taught how rude it is to intrude,” Roman growled, orange light lining his darkened silhouette. “Remy, I’ll deal with you later.”

“Master, he was just cold and-“

“Later!” Roman yelled.

“Y- Yes, Master,” Remy said, silently crossing himself in a silent prayer to save his life and his ass.

Roman took Logan by the arms taking him up to the dungeon and not even realizing what he had down until Logan was staring back at him with pleading eyes. His remorse was short lived. He could barely remember what it felt like the human anymore, let alone even fathom being a side. All remorse was gone as he retired for the night.

That night alone felt like a curse in and of itself. He was back home. Back to normal. Almost normal. Almost home. It all felt so real and lovely, yet too real and absolutely terrible. He was nothing more than a ghost.

“It’s been three days already,” Patton said, choking on his own tears as Logan rubbed circles on his back from where they sat in the living room. Virgil was sitting on the staircase, hiding behind the stairwell as he chewed desperately on his thumb.

“Is he just... gone?” Thomas asked from where he sat on the floor.

“What’s going on?” Roman asked. “What are you all upset about?” No one could hear him and that’s when the terrible realization had set in. He was gone. It had been three days and he had been gone for all of them.

“No, no, he can’t be gone,” Logan said.

“What if he... ducked out?” Virgil asked.

“The problem isn’t that he’s gone, it’s... he’s...” Logan was wiping away his own tears before anyone other than Roman could see. “He’ll be back.”

“How can you be so sure?” Virgil asked. For a moment he looked up and almost made eye contact with Roman. He went back to biting his thumb but the look in his eyes killed Roman. He woke up in a cold sweat with a horrid reminder of what- of who- he was. He didn’t go back to sleep.

So, the next day, when he heard voices echoing around prison cells, he didn’t remember loving kisses under warm sunshine. He remembered that terrible nightmare. He remembered nearly ten years of pain and agonizing loneliness.

“An intruder just like him,” Roman growled from the shadows.

Virgil looked up towards him, gripping at the metal bars. His soft brown hair and hazel eyes looked marvelous among the sunlight, but in them, Roman saw his own pain. “Let him go,” Virgil pleaded, his voice shaky and weak, nothing like the Virgil that Roman had known long ago. “Can’t you see that he’s sick? He’ll die here!”

Roman ignored the pain in his chest- a new pain, a guilty pain- and kept his gaze forward. “He should have thought about that before breaking and entering!”

“I’ll give you anything you want for his freedom!” Virgil yelled. “We don’t have much, but surely you have some compassion!”

“You wish to bargain for human life?” he scoffed.

“What about a trade?” Virgil asked, his shaking hands contrasting his stiff bravado. “Take me in his place. A life... for a life.”

“Virgil, no! Don’t do this!” Logan yelled, coughing as he did so. “You’re young! You have your life ahead of you!”

“I can’t let you die here,” Virgil said, tears welling in his eyes.

“If I let him go, you’ll... take his place?”

“Yes!” Virgil cried. “Just... please. Please let me save my father.”

“You’ll be here forever,” Roman warned.

Virgil pressed a hand against Logan’s cold arm. “Step into the light,” he said softly.

The monster stood like a giant as he towered over Virgil. He had sharp fangs and sharper claws. Curled horns protruded from his forehead and he was covered in thick brown fur. There was no sign of humanity left in him. Virgil gasped, scaring the monster back into the shadows.

“I’ll take his place,” Virgil said surely.

“I see,” Roman said. He held something in a clenched fist as he walked past Virgil and directly to the gate of Logan’s cell. He took the key from his paw and let the gate swing open. “I’ll give you a minute to say your goodbyes.” He made his way down the stairs leaving them completely alone, ignoring the confused glances that bounced between Remy, Emile, and Dot.

“He’s gone,” Logan said quietly. “Quick, we can both escape!”

“No, Papa,” Virgil said, holding Logan’s arms and keeping the older man up.

“Virgil, I- I can’t let you do this.”

“Yes you can, Papa,” Virgil said, smiling despite the tears falling from his eyes. “Let me do this for you.” He pulled Logan into a warm hug, rubbing his father’s arms to fight off any hypothermia he may have suffered. “I love you.”

“Virgil-“

Virgil stepped into the cell, closing it so harshly that the key fell to the ground. “I love you, Papa. Now go home, you’re sick.”

When Logan fell to his knees from coughing, he couldn’t fight back the servants leading him down the stairs. Virgil watched his father disappear from sight as he watched with a melancholic smile. He knew his father would be safe, even if he never saw him again.

Roman had sent out his finest carriage to take Logan as close to the village as was safe without getting caught. He climbed the stairs back up towards the old cell to put the key back on its holder. He blinked back in surprise seeing Virgil standing patiently by the window- already locked into the cell.

“You’re... still here?”

“I made a promise, didn’t I?” Virgil asked, turning to face his captor.

“I, uh,” Roman picked up the key off of the ground, “let me show you to your room.”

“My... room?”

Roman took a deep breath, feeling his heart nervously pounding in his chest. “Unless you’d rather stay here in the cold tower.” Virgil shook his head slowly as Roman unlocked the cell. The gate swung open with an ugly noise as Roman lead Virgil down the hall. “I reacted... poorly, earlier,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to spend your life here, I only suggest that you stay the night until the storm lets up.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

“You’re free as soon as the weather allows you to travel safely,” Roman explained.

Virgil looked past a window and saw the snow growing heavier and harder. It didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. He continued to follow.

“You may travel anywhere in the castle that you wish- except for the west wing.”

“What’s in the west wing?” Virgil asked, curiosity bypassing fear and getting the better of him.

Roman took a deep breath, not sure what to say. “It’s...it’s just off limits, okay? If there’s anything you need, my staff will be happy to attend to you.”

“I- well- Thank you,” Virgil said. Roman had left him alone at the open doorway of a guest bedroom that was nearly the size of Virgil’s house and looked as if it hadn’t been used in 30 years. Sentient brooms and dustpans quickly cleared from the room as they laid eyes on Virgil.

“Is it possible to have a change of heart overnight?” Remy asked.

“It’s certainly... unusual,” Dot agreed.

“Aww, don’t be so suspicious of him,” Emile pleaded.

Remy and Dot exchanged a glance. “We’re not gonna stop being suspicious of him.”

“Don’t you miss being human, Emile? Aren’t you a little bitter at him for taking that away from us?”

Emile sighed. “Do you think he isn’t? He felt- feels- terrible about all of this. About us. You think he wanted us to suffer?”

There was a moment of silence broken only by the crackle of the fire. From the hall, they could hear the sound of claws clicking against wood as Roman paced back and forth. Emile couldn’t help but wander into the hall, with Remy and Dot following behind.

“Master?” Emile asked quietly.

“I... I didn’t think this far ahead,” Roman said as he continued pacing.

“Didn’t think... for what, exactly?” Remy asked.

Roman continued pacing back and forth and back and forth; the three observers may have begun to think of him as growing mad. His mind was racing. It had been almost ten years since that day on the beach. It had been almost ten years since he had even /seen/ a movie! He couldn’t remember what to do next and he certainly wasn’t sure what would happen if he failed.

“Emile, could you please go keep our guest company? Remy, Dot, I’ll need you two to come with me. I have... an idea.”

With a small knock at the door, Emile and Kai slowly entered the guest bedroom and found Virgil curled up on the floor talking to Madame Armoire. His eyes were red but he was laughing and smiling. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I thought you might like a cup of tea after such a long night.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Virgil said, picking up the teacup that had maneuvered itself in front of him.

“Wanna see a trick?” Kai asked ecstatically. He made a big show of inhaling and scrunched up his face as the tea bubbled up and spilled over.

“Kai!” Emile scolded.

“Sorry, Papa!” Kai giggled as Virgil carefully placed him on the ground.

A loud crash sounded from the hallway as many smaller crashes grew closer and closer to the guest room. The door swung open as Remy and Dot both fell to the ground.

“The master would like to invite you to-”

“GET READY FOR DINNER!” Remy yelled with a smile.

“A-HEM!” Dot stood up, brushing herself off, and shooting Remy a glare. “The master would like to formally invite you to a private feast in the dining hall.”

“What?”

“We’d like to ask you to be our guest,” Remy said with a grin and something mischievous behind his eyes.

It had taken a lot of preparation, yes, but Roman was happy with the end result as he watching the dining hall from behind a cracked door. He couldn’t see Virgil’s face, but a quick thumbs-up from Remy told him everything he needed to know.

“Now, Monsieur, is there anything else we can assist you with?” Remy asked.

“No, no, we really must be retiring for the night,” Dot scolded as Remy rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, ma amie. Surely there’s something that would interest the guest?”

“Well, I,” Virgil said, thinking carefully, “I wouldn’t mind a tour of the castle.”

Roman took a deep breath hearing those words. He’d keep his guard up in the west wing. He watched from the shadows as Virgil crept into the room slowly. Roman stayed still as Virgil pieced together an old torn painting that Roman had destroyed long ago. “Go!” Roman yelled. “Get out!”

Virgil ran from the castle as fast as his legs would carry him. He wasn’t a prisoner and he sure as hell wouldn’t be held like one.

Roman watched him run from the window. He knew exactly where Virgil was heading. He picked up the silver mirror gazing for a moment at the monster staring back at him. “Show me the boy,” he said. He saw Virgil running and, just out of the younger’s view, he saw wolves. Hungry wolves.

Roman quickly ran from the castle. When he found Virgil, he was being surrounded and attacked by wolves, beating at them with a rotted tree branch. Roman growled and roared at the beasts, drawing their attention away from Virgil. They ran after him, jumping on him, and biting his arms and legs. “Go!” he yelled at Virgil. “Get out! Save yourself!” He saw Virgil hesitating, still gripping onto the old branch. That was when his head hit the ice and he began to black out.

He woke up sitting in the old chair in front of a roaring fire. He was back at the castle. Back at home. He sucked in air through his teeth as he felt his arm burn and sting. “Hold still,” Virgil ordered. “This might sting a little.”

“No kidding,” Roman bit back. “You never should have run out there.”

Virgil pressed a hot rag against Roman’s wounds, causing the beast to roar and squirm. “I wouldn’t have run away if you hadn’t shouted at me!”

“I wouldn’t have shouted if you had learned not to trespass!”

“Well, you need to learn to control your temper!” Virgil yelled, taking the rag and angrily tossing it in the bucket of hot water. Droplets splashed against the floor as the two found themselves at a stalemate. Remy, Emile, Dot, And Kai all glanced to one another silently.

“Kai, I think you should be heading to bed,” Emile said softly.

“But, Papa!” Kai whined earning a warning glare from Emile.

“Kai.”

The teacup rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, Papa.”

Everything remained silent save for the roaring fire and defeated clinking of a teacup hopping away. Roman tore away his stare and mumbled towards the floor, “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Virgil carefully rung out the cloth and held Roman’s hand tightly. “Hold still,” he said, gently placing the warm fabric on Roman’s wound. The beast winced but tried to keep himself still. The blood had finally stopped running; Virgil held out his hand as Dot gave him a roll of bandages. He began winding the gauze around Roman’s arm. “I should thank you,” he said quietly, “for saving my life.”

Roman saw the vulnerability in Virgil’s eyes and felt his heart race a little bit faster and a little bit more prominently. “It was my honor,” he said with a smile.

Virgil looked towards him and smiled back. Remy, Emile, and Dot all let out a sigh of relief, grinning with mischievous grins as if they knew something the others were blind to. And in some ways, they did.

The snowstorms were starting the letup, at least for a while. They only seemed to grow worse when either of them mentioned the possibility of Virgil going back home. Virgil didn’t seem to mind the storms.

Dot, Remy, and Emile couldn’t help but watch from the windows as the two fought a vicious snowball war which Virgil seemed to be winning. His face was red from the cold but the smile on his face made it apparent that he wouldn’t be giving up the snow anytime soon at all.

Roman was pacing in front of the fireplace that evening. He was deep in thought, but a small part of him was smiling nonetheless. “I... I want to do something special. For him.”

“Well, there’s the usuals,” Dot said, “flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep.”

Roman rolled his eyes but laughed. “There’s the library,” he joked, but let his memory return to him. Any Virgil is still Virgil, right? A few days had passed before he unveiled the surprise. He had spent days planning, decorating, and making Remy, Dot, and Emile stall for time. Finally, at long last, it was time.

“No peeking,” he laughed, holding his paws over Virgil’s eyes.

“I’m not I swear!” Virgil said with a laugh.

“Okay, okay,” Roman said, slowly removing his paws, “keep them shut.” He opened the library door, leading Virgil into the large room letting the door fall mostly shut from behind them. He took a deep breath. “Okay, you can open them now.”

The library was painted purple and black with silk threads intricately knitted and hanging in corners. It was a gothic nightmare and Virgil instantly fell in love with it all. “This is... incredible! All of it!”

“You like it?” Roman asked with a smile.

“Like it?! This is incredible!”

“It’s yours,” Roman said.

“What? You couldn’t possibly mean that.”

“And why can’t I?”

“I- well,” Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he said with a blush, “thank you very much.”

After a little time and a whole lot of courage, Roman was finally about to live through one of his favorite Disney dances. His heart was racing in his chest.

“A dress?” Virgil whispered as the two glided across the ballroom. “Really?”

Roman chuckled from his throat, feeling more human than he had in years. “I think it suits you.”

“A suit would suit me,” Virgil mumbled.

“Is that a pun?”

“...maybe.”

Roman laughed, feeling Virgil lay his head onto his chest. Roman had to restrain himself from mumbling a quick “I love you.” This was a different Virgil- who didn’t love him back. This Virgil wasn’t his Snow White, his Sleeping Beauty, his Cinderella, or his Little Mermaid. He couldn’t risk scaring him off. He had to charm this Virgil just enough to save his life.

He had to get back to the real Virgil. To the Real Patton and the Real Logan too. He took a deep breath, silently cursing that damn dragon witch for cursing him to fall more in more in love but to never be able to explain why.

“I need to show you something,” Roman said, thinking back to the magic mirror. This story needed an ending- even if it killed him.

He lead Virgil to the West Wing, watching the boy visibly tense. He didn’t know how to apologize. He pretended not to notice. “This,” he said, picking up the handle of a silver mirror, “is a magic mirror. Ask it anything you wish; it will show you your heart’s desire.”

“Anything?” Virgil asked. He took a deep breath and held the mirror with a shaking hand. “Show me, my father... please.”

Virgil watched his reflection melt away and the vision of Logan took his place. The old man was deathly pale and tired as he coughed up a lung. “He’s dying,” Virgil whispered, “my father is dying.”

“Then you must go to him,” Roman said. He pressed the mirror in Virgil's hands against his chest. “Take this with you,” he added, “and let it remind you of me.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said. “For everything.”

“Of course,” Roman said, “oh, but, Virgil?”

“Yes?”

“You might want to put on a pair of pants first,” he joked but felt his heart sank as Virgil ran off. He watched as Virgil ran far from the castle, flying quickly beyond his reach and taking Roman’s heart with him.

Roman hadn’t expected this to hurt so much. He always knew he’d have to watch Virgil leave him. He knew this story like the back of his hand, but, if there was one thing he’d learned from his past, it was that knowledge couldn’t prevent heartbreak.

He tried not to think about what would happen next...

The entire castle staff was horribly aware of the mob approaching the castle. Many of them said their final prayers, while others looked back on their every regret. They all stay still in the dark as the doors creak open. A stout man leading the group wrapped his sweaty fingers around Remy’s base. He stuck a match, lighting the candle, and moving him back and forth as the mob moved inwards. In a swift movement, Remy bent his arms downwards, burning the skin of the man holding him and causing the man to drop the candle towards the ground. “NOW!” Remy yelled, and everyone attacked.

Roman was sitting alone, watching as the invaders marched into the castle. He couldn’t imagine the fight going on downstairs. His deep pondering was interrupted by a crack at the door as Deceit entered the room with a drawn bow and arrow. With a sigh, Roman turned back towards the window.

In a quick second, he felt the arrow pierce his skin and he growled in agony. To add insult to injury, he felt Deceit push against him as he fell through the window. “Get up, Beast!” he yelled, pushing him down to the next part of the roof. “Or are you too ‘kind’ and ‘gentle’ to fight back?!” His words were harsh and he spit them out like venom. He broke off a hunk of cement from the side of the castle.

That’s when Virgil appeared. He and Logan on the horse had ridden up to the castle entrance. “Roman! Look out!” he cried out.

He was so worried and sincere and that’s when the memories poured in. They had danced together in a tale as old as time. Virgil was part of his world. They had found each other after the ball. They had danced once upon a dream and they were there at the old wishing well.

More importantly, this was Virgil. Virgil had been there since the beginning. They were both sides of Thomas. They fought and argued and bickered but deep down they both cared for each other. Roman cared for Virgil. He might even dare to say that he loved him.

He caught the stone club as it swung down towards him and picked himself up, watching the fear in Deceit’s eyes as he finally fought back. They both pushed and shoved, racing towards and against each other in the pouring rains and thunder. With one misstep, Deceit had started to fall, but he caught himself on the next ledge.

He brought his club down on the beast’s head, destroying it under his power. With a flash of lightning, he saw the rows of gargoyles and the chipped cement he had destroyed. “Stop hiding, Beast!” He yelled. “Did you really think,” Deceit asked, “that someone like him could love a monster like you?”

“No,” Roman answered and time seemed to stop. Deceit lowered his weapons noticeably but not completely. “I don’t. I don’t expect him to love me. Not now, not ever; not here nor anywhere else. I can’t expect that from him. I can hope and dream and pray that he’ll love me back but I can never expect that. To do so would be unfathomably cruel.”

Deceit rolled his eyes. “You think that you’re poetic, huh? Words can save you? Don’t be a coward, Beast!”

Roman reached out, grasping his claws against Deceit’s throat and watching him squirm as he held him in the open air out above the cliffs below. Deceit gasped for air, hands on Roman’s paw, trying to free himself. “Please,” he choked out, “don’t hurt me. I’ll- I’ll do anything! Please!”

Roman’s glare dropped when he saw genuine fear in the other’s eyes. He was still a side. No matter who, or what, he was, he was part of Thomas. Roman couldn’t bring himself to kill him, no matter what part he had to play.

He brought Deceit to the castle’s ledge and held him down to the ground. “Get out.”

“Roman!” Virgil yelled from the castle balcony.

“Virgil,” Roman said softly, climbing the old shingles up the balcony ledge. He took Virgil’s outstretched hand and laid a paw against Virgil’s face. “You came back.”

He smiled, happy to be reunited and happy knowing that the fighting would be over. He, unfortunately, couldn’t remember the next chain of events until he felt a cold blade pierce into his side and pull out just as quickly. He growled in pain, losing his grip on the balcony, and knocking into Deceit who stood close behind him. Virgil grabbed onto this cape and pulled him forward.

Deceit slipped from the roof, falling into the deep abyss below. He was gone and as good as dead. Roman seemed to be rather close to meeting the same fate. His breath was leaving him as his vision started to grow blurry and dim.

“I got here too late,” Virgil said, tears falling from his eyes. “I- This is all my fault.”

“Shhh,” Roman said. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“But, I- I didn’t know they’d come after you, I-”

“You had to save your father. I know.” He brought his paw up to the side of Virgil’s face, the latter of the two holding it in place. “At least... I got to see you... one last time.”

“No,” Virgil said softly, tears falling from his eyes. “Don’t leave me. You- You can’t leave me.” Roman’s hand went limp as the light drained from his eyes. Virgil screamed out in agony, shaking the still air around him. His throat was sore and hot tears poured down his face as he buried himself against Roman’s chest. “I love you.”

There was nothing but still silence, but warmth seemed to travel through the cold air. Hope broke through the atmosphere of despair. Virgil felt something push against him as Roman rose from the ground. He fell backwards watching the prince as a golden halo surrounded him entirely. His hind legs transformed into human flesh and bone as the transformation spread throughout his body.

Roman woke up back on the cold ground. “Virgil?” His voice was hoarse but there was something loving behind it. He looked to his hands and smiled widely, bringing them to his face and head. His hair was a bit longer, laying just above his shoulders, and he was human again. “Virgil, it’s me!”

“Roman?”

Roman nodded and Virgil happily threw himself into the prince’s arms. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I never thought I’d be happy to hear those familiar words.”

Virgil wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and held himself as close to the other as he could. He was so happy and relieved and his heart was beating out of his chest. “I love you,” he murmured into the other’s neck.

“I know, mon amour. I love you too, Virgil, always and forever.”

The music swelled as they danced across the ballroom. Virgil was once again in the ballgown he claimed the hate, as friends, family, and (once again human) staff danced alongside them.

“I could dance with you forever,” Roman said with a smile. He wasn’t acting anymore. He wanted this to be his happy ending.

“That seems illogical,” Virgil said. “You’d have to get tired eventually.”

Roman laughed, he really was Logan’s son. He twirled Virgil, feeling the fabric of the ballgown drift against his legs. “With you? Never.”

“You’re such a sap,” Virgil teased, leaning teasingly but noticeably. He didn’t pull back.

“That may be true,” Roman agreed, feeling the soft skin of Virgil’s cheek under his own calloused fingertips. “But I’m only a sap for you.” He leaned in, smiling as he held the other in a sweet embrace and an even sweeter kiss.

He pulled back slightly when he heard the music fade away. He opened his eyes to find himself in the desert- with only Virgil left in his arms. He stared into his eyes and whispered, “I love you, so much,” before watching the ghost smile in return and fade away. He was left in rags and grasping onto memories as he prepared to fight one more time.

Okay, he wasn’t prepared to fight just yet. “Where are you, you coward?!” he yelled against the sands. He was completely alone out there. Alone entirely except for one parrot in the distance. “Making Deceit do your bidding?! Can’t handle me on your own, can you?”

The parrot stared at Roman as he kicked at the sand. “You win! Okay?! Is that enough for you?!” He let out a groan against the dark, uncaring night sky. “I love him.”

“Don’t give up now,” the Dragon Witch cooed. “It’s only getting interesting.”

“You are cruel and heartless.”

“Ugh, you’re being a buzzkill today, aren’t you?”

Roman let out a sigh, letting himself fall back into the sand. The parrot flew down to him, sitting on his chest. “Is... he cursed too?”

“I suppose that depends on who you’re asking about.”

“Deceit,” Roman said. “Does he... is he going to remember any of this?”

The Dragon Witch stayed silent.

“Please,” Roman said, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t want to wake up from all of this and know that all I did was hurt someone for my own good. No matter who it is, I don’t want to hurt anyone real.”

“His fate is up for you to decide.” The Dragon Witch began to fly away but Roman was quick enough to catch her wing as he sat upwards. Even she couldn’t say ‘no’ to his sad, puppy dog eyes. “Face your fears, Roman, and no harm will come to those you love.”

The parrot flew away against the dark night sky as Roman fell back against the Arabian sands and fell asleep. He couldn’t tell if the dream he dreamt was a blessing or a curse.

He found himself in Anxiety’s room. Fitting, he decided, as the agony bubbled and rose in his gut. He looked up to find Virgil taking deep breaths as he adjusted his headphones and clicked play on his laptop. Roman couldn’t leave his corner of the room; an invisible wall held him captive, but he could turn his head just to see Virgil’s computer screen. A Whole New World began to play through his headphones as he slowly let go of his inhibitions.

The movements were clumsy and sloppy at first, but Virgil was gliding across the floor on his socks, dancing slowly to the music. He was doing some formless version of a waltz and twirling himself as silent words stay mumbled against his lips.

Roman was never a lip-reading genius, but he knew a princess song when he heard- or saw- it. He was murmuring Jasmine’s part to himself and fuck, Roman was so in love. Whenever this curse was finally over, Roman knew he wanted to take Virgil’s hands and dance with him for hours. Really, truly dance with him. No more carbon copies.

Maybe he’d throw in a real kiss for good measure too.

No, he had to tell himself softly, he couldn’t do that. This Virgil- the real Virgil didn’t love him back. He wouldn’t love him back. He couldn’t love him back.

Regardless, that would never stop Roman from loving him.

The empty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as Virgil continued to dance- completely unfazed by Roman’s presence. “I want to go back,” Roman whispered before fading quickly out of Anxiety’s room.

“Hello?” Virgil asked quietly, pulling off his headphones and hitting pause on his computer. He looked to the corner of his room- Roman’s corner- and couldn’t help but feel a chill cascading down his skin. It was as if a ghost had past thorough him. Something was horribly, inexplicably wrong.

“LOGAN!” he yelled, dashing out of his room and out towards the commons.

Roman did what he had to. He found the cave of wonders, grabbed the lamp, and had all of it fucked up by a circus monkey. He took a deep breath and rubbed the lamp. There was a moment of silence, a beat of hesitation, and a lifetime’s worth of fear and worry.

Then, the lamp began to shake and tremble. Roman dropped it as it warmed more and more until the metal was red and burning to the touch. Smoke began to pour out more and more filling the cave until a blue mist began to follow suit. “GAAAAH!” a loud, thunderous voice yelled, that would have been terrifying if not so familiar. “Ten thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck! OH- Hello there!”

“Patton,” Roman said with a smile.

“Oh it is good to be out,” Patton announced. He summoned up a microphone and held it to Roman’s face. “What’cha name, Kiddo, where ya from?”

“Roman.”

“Roman! Welcome to the show! Should we call ya Ro or Man? Or maybe just Oma because Oma-gosh is it great to meet you!” Patton chuckled loudly at his own joke before adjusting his glasses and moving his head down to look at Roman. “You know, you’re a lot smaller than my old master.”

“Master?”

“Yep!” Patton said. “I’ll grant you anything your heart desires! Three wishes- but no wishing for more wishes. That’s a big no-no. So, what’ll it be, Master?”

A million thoughts ran through Roman’s head in only seconds. “Maybe, uh, maybe don’t call me that. Roman- Roman’s good. Anything is better than- uh- than that.”

“Gotcha, Ro!”

Roman let out a sigh of relief. “Well,” he said, “I’d like to get out of this cave.”

Patton smiled, placing himself, Roman, and the circus monkey onto a magic carpet. “Please keep your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside the carpet at all times.” He turned his hand into a cannon and blasted a hole through the top of three cave, dodging debris as he steered the carpet (and the passengers) to safety.

Now all Roman had to do was:

1) Become a prince

2) Storm into Agrabah

3) Win Virgil’s affections

4) Release the Genie

Easy, right? Easy until step three. Virgil was very persistent about “I’m not a prize to be won” which was, completely understandable, but at least let a guy try, right?

So here he was, standing on a magic carpet, holding onto the railing of Virgil’s balcony. “I hope you know how creepy you’re being right now,” the prince said with a glare, “I could easily have my guards arrest you.”

“I know, I know, but- I just wanted to talk to you. Get to know you. Actually know you.”

“I’ll cave,” Virgil said, still holding a bit of a glare. “What do you have in mind?”

With the tap of his foot as the cue, Roman rose higher towards the balcony, revealing the magic carpet. “Care for a ride?” He held his hand out, but Virgil was clearly hesitant to take it. “Do you trust me?”

Virgil smiled softly, taking Roman’s hand and settling into the carpet. Roman kept an arm tightly around Virgil’s waist, for safety reasons of course. He obviously had no other motivation to embrace the feeling of his hand against Virgil’s exposed skin while the other snuggled up close to him.

“I can show you the world,” Roman sang softly, “shining, shimmering, splendid. Tell me, Princess-“ He winked as Virgil rolled his eyes. “-when did you last let your heart decide?”

He subtly pulled Virgil closer and waited a moment to see if there other were to protest this. He never did. “I can open your eyes. Take you wonder by wonder. Over, sideways, and under on a magic carpet ride.”

They flew over the marketplace but Virgil’s gaze was caught on the stars as the cool wind blew his hair away from his face. Roman’s heart melted at how lovely he was. “A whole new world,” he sang, “a new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us ‘no’ or where to go, or say we’re only dreaming.”

“A whole new world,” Virgil started, his voice was small and nervous but melodious nonetheless. “A dazzling place I never knew.” He took a shaky breath and pulled Roman’s arm tighter around his waist, leaving a blush on the faux prince’s face. “But now that I’m way up here, it’s crystal clear, that now I’m in a whole new world with you.”

“Now I'm in a whole new world with you!”

“Unbelievable sights,” Virgil sang, smiling and looking so carefree as if the fear of falling hadn’t occurred to him at all. He looked so happy and genuine that Roman almost had to wonder if Virgil were cursed too. “Indescribable feelings.” The prince smiled back at Roman with a look with too much wonder and adoration to be real. “Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling, through an endless diamond sky.” If Virgil were truly cursed, he’d be a lot more terrified and way too confused about all of this to be singing.

Roman let out a deep breath and smiled at his fake love. A side could certainly dream, couldn't he?

“A whole new world.”

Roman reached out to grab Virgil’s hand. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“A hundred thousand things to see.”

“Hold your breath it gets better.”

Virgil gripped onto Roman’s hands, holding eye contact with him as best he could. “I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far.” He leaned in closer, his voice getting quieter as he pressed his forehead against Roman’s. “I can’t go back to where I used to be.”

“A whole new world.”

“Every turn a surprise.”

“With new horizons to pursue.”

“Every moment; Red-letter.”

They held onto each other as if nothing else mattered, moving in closer and closer as they sang. “I’ll chase them anywhere; there’s time to spare.” They pressed their foreheads together, noses brushing, as Roman let his hand rest against Virgil’s neck. “Let me share this whole new world with you.”

“A whole new world,” Roman sang, his voice dying down to a spoken whisper.

“A whole new world,” Virgil echoed, exhaling the words against Roman’s skin as they grew closer and closer.

“That’s where we’ll be.”

“A thrilling chase.”

“A wondrous place.” They had flown back to the castle balcony already, letting time pass them by. Roman helped Virgil down onto the safe ground as he stayed floating on the magic carpet.

They stood on opposite sides of the railing- Virgil in his rich, wealthy castle; Roman hovering above the poor and the ruin- both so close and so far as Roman kept his hands against Virgil’s neck and both of their foreheads stay resting against the other’s. “For you and me.” Their lips brushed together as Roman moved in closer, and closer, just about to finalize the moment.

“Virgil! Virgil, are you out there?”

Virgil pulled away quickly, panic in his eyes. “My father,” he said with a gasp. “You need to leave!”

“I’ll see you soon, My Prince,” said Roman, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s hand. “I’ll see you soon.” With a wink and a smile, he was gone into the night.

Now for step 4: Release the Genie.

Yeah getting there proved to have a bunch of mini steps along the way. Maybe make freeing the Genie step 5.

Okay, okay, Roman’s Full To-Do List was:

1) Become a prince

2) Storm into Agrabah

3) Win Virgil’s affections

4) Get caught by goons

a) Almost drown at the bottom of the ocean.

b) Get saved by Patton

c) Have Patton stolen by “Jafar”

d) Get banished from Agrabah

e) Get back to Agrabah

f) Fight Jafar

5) Release the Genie

6) Happy Ending to get the hell out of Aladdin

Now just to get past step 4F.

Roman wouldn’t admit it in his moment of horror, but having Deceit turn into a giant cobra was actually pretty funny on the Dragon Witch’s part. He’d have to compliment her after ripping out her spleen. That was a problem for another day, he decided as he trapped Deceit in the lamp.

“Ten thousand years in the cave of wonders ought to chill him out,” Patton teased, listening to the yelling coming from the lamp. He pulled his arm back and pitched the lamp as far away as possible. If he never saw it again, it would be too soon.

Roman tightened his grip on Virgil’s hands as they watched the lamp fly by. “I’m sorry for lying to you about being a prince.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, “I know why you did it. If it weren’t for that stupid law-”

“Hate to intrude, Kiddos, but... you do still have one last wish left.”

“Patton, what about your freedom?”

The genie sighed, forcing on a semi-genuine smile. “It’s only an eternity of servitude, but this... this is love, Ro. You’re not gonna find another guy like him in a million years.” He leaned in towards Roman’s ear and whispered, “Believe me, I’ve looked.”

“But-”

“Just say the words and you can be a prince again.”

Roman moved closer to Virgil, cupping the side of his face and planting a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil, I do love you, but I have to stop pretending to be what... I’m not. I have to do this.” He took the lamp in both hands. “Patton, I wish for your freedom.”

“One prince coming right up-” Patton froze, his voice softening and his eyes falling on Roman. “What?”

It wasn’t grand or filled with fireworks, but magically the genie’s cuffs fell off and he was finally free from his own lamp. He was... human. “I’m free,” Patton said. “I’m free! I’m free! I’m gonna see the world! I’m gonna- Thank you, Roman,” Patton said, pulling him into a big, weepy hug. “You’ll always be a prince to me.”

“Well, I think that’s certainly evidence enough.” The group turned to face Logan who stood in clothing that had more value than Roman’s entire net worth. “The only thing in the way is that law, after all.”

“Father?”

“Am I the sultan or am I the sultan?” Logan wore a smirk on his face as his gaze drifted from Virgil to Roman and vice versa. “From this moment forward, the heir may marry whomever he deems worthy.”

“Him,” Virgil declared, taking a running start into Roman’s arms. “I chose him.”

Roman smiled, cupping Virgil’s face and pulling him in towards a kiss. Their lips were centimeters apart when Patton pulled them- and Logan- into his arms and yelled, “GROUP HUG!”

“Perhaps we should give them a moment of privacy,” Logan suggested as the breath was squeezed from his lungs.

“Oh! Right!” Patton let go of the hug, letting Logan lead him back into the castle, but glancing over his shoulder to give Roman one last thumbs up.

Roman traced his fingers along Virgil’s jaw one last time, admiring his tanned skin. “Now, where were we?” he asked, separating Virgil’s lips as he leaned in for a kiss.

He happily woke up to the sound of jazz in New Orleans. One quick look in the mirror, he saw his skin had turned darker than it had been in Agrabah and he let out a sigh of relief. Well, at least he and the Dragon Witch had the same view on animated diversity!

Speaking of the Dragon Witch, she offered him a hand when she found him sitting on a street corner- Logan not far behind. “Enchante,” she said, pulling him up, “a tip of the hat from Dr. Facilier.”

“Finally owning up to your villainous nature, my wicked fiend?”

She laughed from her chest and just before they went into the alley, Roman got the first good look at her new form. She had red hair that hung just past her shoulders in waves and her eyes were unmistakably violet, but she still kept the same sharp facial features and broad shoulders that she always had. She handed Roman a business card as she whispered in his ear in as menacing a tone as she could muster, “Are you ready?”

He was not ready whatsoever and spent about 93 minutes screaming internally. His only wish was that he could have seen the witch perish. Virgil would have gladly let him have the experience in his place.

“Please- I! I just need a little more time!” The woman yelled. Demons grabbed at her shadow and she fell completely to the ground. Voodoo dolls and demons chanted angrily and hit drums around them as the woman pleaded for her life upon deaf ears. As she got pulled in her skin turned to scales and then stone until her physical body melded with the gravestone she was being pulled into leaving a stone dragon behind.

After turning human again, and getting their happy ending, Roman had to prepare for the worst. The Dragon Witch has spent a lot of time planning without him in Tangled. He’d have to think fast.

“Flower, gleam, and glow,” young Virgil sang as his mother brushed through his golden hair, “let your power shine. Make the clock reverse.” The witch’s scaly skin reverted back into human flesh. She’d have to be stealthy to stay human now. One backfired curse against Roman had taken that choice away from her. One stolen baby would give that choice back. “Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.”

“I could get used to a view like this,” Roman said, looking over the kingdom. Everything was 3D now, computer animated and way more realistic. He loved all of it. “All right. I’m used to it.” He whipped around dramatically to face his confidants- a set of twins named Apollo and Jericho. “Boys, I want a castle.”

“You can get your castle, after we get the crown,” Apollo said, his voice deep and threatening. Apollo pulled Roman back by the collar. All right, let’s do this one last time...

It didn’t take long to get to the tower once he had to outrun the twins, the guards, and the horse. Damn the horse. Inside of the tower, however, was something eerily familiar about it all. He definitely knew who built this place.

That’s when it hit him. Literally.

He woke up strapped to a chair, tied down with blond hair. Which was a slight shock, actually... this was Virgil, wasn’t it?

“I don’t know who you are, or how you found me, or what you want to do with my hair!” a voice- Virgil’s voice- yelled from the shadows. Roman suddenly understood how Virgil had felt back in that prisoner tower in France.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Roman said. “You let me out of your... hair... and I help you with whatever adventure your little heart desires.”

“I-” Virgil stood frozen, caught off guard for a moment as he glanced at Pascal. “...Deal.”

This Virgil was odd, definitely, but more familiar than all of the others. Roman began to think himself mad until they found themselves in a boat, floating in the middle of the sea beneath a sky of floating lights.

“All at once, everything is different-” Roman cupped a hand against Virgil’s cheek, seeing all of the love and vulnerability in his eyes. It was a lovely sight. “-now that I see you.”

They were so close to kissing until he saw them. Apollo and Jericho on a nearby shore. He shouldn’t have looked. He should have just let himself kiss Virgil. He shouldn’t be pulling away right now. He inhaled with a sharp breath, loathing the feeling of his own free will being taken from him as he began to row towards the shore.

“Ro...man?” Virgil asked. “Is everything alright?”

Roman shook his head, pulling himself back into reality. Back into... fiction. This was all fiction, and he had to remember that. “Yeah, yeah I just... Yeah. I just need to deal with something for a moment. I’ll be quick.”

He pulled up to the shore, hoping to deal with things amicably, grabbed the satchel, and headed to where the twins were. “Ah! Good to see you two!” Roman lied, watching carefully as Apollo sharpened a makeshift knife.

“Hear you’ve been holding out on us, Sanders,” Jericho said.

“What?” Roman said. “No, the- the crown is right here!” he said, holding the satchel up. “You can have it!”

“What’s more valuable, Sanders?” Apollo asked, rising as he and Jericho began to corner the prince. “The crown? Or the boy with the magical hair?”

“How- How do you?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see moonlight reflecting against familiar green scales. She was between phases, but why? Roman didn’t have time to question any of the problems before him when suddenly a force hit his head and everything went black.

The most horrific dream he had was this one. It was one thing to know that your friends are mourning for you. It’s another to see the body they’re mourning over.

He wasn’t dead, exactly, but the overall sight looked more like a coma than a nap. The room was completely empty except for the ghost of Roman... and her. “Why are you here?” Roman asked, his voice deep and almost at a growl. “Haven’t you given me enough pain showing me this?”

The Dragon Witch said nothing, only carefully touching the scales on her arms and watching them with confusion. She poked and prodded higher up her arm, wincing with pain as she did so but never acknowledging Roman.

“Answer me!” Roman yelled, tears welling up in his eyes.

The Witch’s head snapped up and she met the trembling Prince’s eyes. He looked as pained and confused as the first time she had cursed him. Funny, how nostalgia always hits at the most inconvenient times. “Roman, don’t you get it? I can’t change the curse once it’s cast,” she said. “I can only alter... minuscule details.”

Almost on cue, Deceit shuffled into the room, fidgeting with his gloves and keeping his eyes glued to Roman’s sleeping face. “It was just a dream,” he muttered to himself. “It was just a dream.”

“Will he be alright?” Roman asked.

The Dragon Witch flicked her wrist towards Deceit and instantly he fell into a tired trance. The Dragon Witch mumbled something to him in a language that Roman had never heard before. Wordlessly, Deceit turned around and walked away. He was almost robotic. “Of course he’ll be alright,” the witch said, “there’s no reason for him not to be.”

“He won’t remember any of it?”

“Not one second.”

Roman let out a deep breath and slowly nodded. “As for the others...?”

The Dragon Witch shook her head, walking out of the room and seeming to pull Roman along with her. He passed through Logan like air and watched the Logical Side freeze where he stood and began to look around cautiously. “They weren’t there. God, Roman, how vicious must you think me to be in order to curse all of Thomas?”

“I have no idea if anything you just said was even remotely grammatically correct.”

“Fuck grammar,” said the Dragon Witch.

“Fair enough.” Roman saw Virgil come down the stairs from his bedroom, quickly diving into the kitchen and then running away. He looked like he had been crying. Or having a panic attack. Roman swallowed the lump in his throat. It was probably both. “How has Thomas been without me?”

“At a bit of a creative block, at first,” the Dragon Witch told him, glancing towards the two traits still quietly talking to (and comforting) each other in the corner, “you aren’t gone, Roman, just napping. The others, though? Mr. Morality over here has been a wreck.” A small cackle left her lips as Roman’s attention fell on the tired Patton.

“Don’t insult him,” Roman snapped. “Hurt me, torture me, rip all of my happiness away from me, but never insult them or I swear by Odin’s eyepatch I will make sure your death is one you cannot revive from.”

“Pinched a nerve, huh?” she asked, completely apathetic to Roman’s glare. “Fine, geez, whatever.” She snapped her fingers and Roman woke up back in Corona.

“It’s him!” a guard yelled.

Roman’s vision was blurry but he could see that he had been tied to a sailboat with the crown in hand. Guards were climbing onto the boat, untying Roman but making sure he didn’t escape. He had to follow the script.

He had to follow the script.

He had to...

He picked his head up in a moment of realization and they untied his hands. He didn’t have to do jackshit. Roman cracked his neck and shoulders, nudging guards away from him as he drew his arm back, holding the crown. “You want it?” he yelled, throwing the crown onto the land. “Go get it!”

He punched one the guards, knocking him off of his horse, and rode away towards the forest as quickly as possible. Halfway into the woods, he turned on a separate course away from the tower and dismounted the horse. He hid behind a boulder and watched palace guards follow a riderless horse. The horseless rider then ran as fast as his legs would take him until his pulse was pounding against his head and his throat was burning as he tried to take in air. He found the tower and stopped for a moment, letting his breathing even out as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He began to scale the tower.

“Let him go!” Roman announced, letting himself in through the tower window.

“Ah, our guest is here early, isn’t that nice, Sunflower?” the Dragon Witch cooed. Scales were running up the side of her neck and across her arms. “You shouldn’t have broken character,” she hissed, running her blade into his side. She ripped the blade out as quickly as she had inserted it and let Roman fall to the ground in pain. “I warned you,” she hummed, dropping the knife and leaving him there as she grabbed the chain that Virgil had been tied up against and tried to actually him away.

“Hmmph!” Virgil struggled against the pull, managing to remove the cloth from around his mouth. “Let me heal him!” he yelled.

The witch glanced to Roman with a raised eyebrow. “He’s not worth it, Darling. Just leave him to the rats.”

“No!” Virgil yelled. “If you take me now, I will spend the rest of my life struggling and fighting, but... if you let me heal him, I’ll go willingly and never go against anything you ask of me.”

“No,” the witch seethed.

Roman’s head was pounding and his breath began to leave him. He didn’t have the energy to get up.

“Then,” Virgil said quietly, Roman could see him slowly untying his hands, “you leave me no choice.” He grabbed the bloody dagger that lay next to Roman and brought it against the witch’s thigh. The witch screamed out in pain but clicked her fingers, “sinking down” back into the imagination. Roman knew exactly why she left; this was the end. There was nowhere else to go after here, and he was about to die. Again. Motherfucker.

The blade fell to the ground and Virgil stared in shock. He glanced over towards Roman and quickly rushed to the dying man’s side, freeing himself from his chains as he did so. “Roman, I... I’m so sorry,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “You never should have come here.”

“I can’t believe you stabbed that bitch,” Roman said through weak breaths. “That was... kinda hot.”

“Roman, you’re dying.”

Roman took in a sharp inhale, his muscles tensing around his lungs. “Perhaps... I am, but... without you, there’s no life worth living.”

“Roman,” Virgil breathed out, gently pressing his hand against Roman’s face.

“Just kiss me, Virgil. Please.”

“Roman...”

“Virgil,” Roman said hoarsely, placing his hand on Virgil’s. “Please.”

When their lips met it wasn’t warm or loving. It was sad and melancholic. It was an ending, but who was to say if it were happy? Roman took some relief in knowing that any of his suffering would fade away along with the man in front of him.

“Virgil,” Roman mumbled one more time, but he wasn’t in the tower anymore. He sat up, several roses falling from his chest. His skin was no longer perfect but uneven in tone and with brown freckles across his arms and hands. He looked more human than art and, for the first time, he was happy to admit that.

“I see that you’re awake,” Logan said, looking up from his Nook. He held a disinterested facade, but there was a softness to his tone and a smile that he couldn’t hide.

“How long was I out?”

Logan set down his Nook and let out a deep sigh. “About two weeks,” he said quietly. “I- We... We were all very concerned.”

“Two weeks?” A beat settled throughout the room. “Oh.”

“Is that...” Patton stood in the doorway hesitating only for a moment before running towards the bed and throwing himself onto Roman in a tearful hug. “You’re okay! You’re... ALIVE!”

“That I am,” Roman said reciprocating the hug. “I most certainly am.”

“L, what’s all the com-” Virgil’s jaw dropped and his eyes were already filling with tears. “-motion.”

“Virgil!” Roman said. He slowly maneuvered his way over to the other. “I... I’m so happy to see you.”

“I...I...” Tears fell from Virgil’s eyes and suddenly the two of them were in a tight embrace. Logan would have told you that Virgil had initiated the hug; Patton would have informed you that Roman had been ready to take Virgil into his arms from the moment he had stood up.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Roman mumbled into Virgil’s neck.

“I don’t care,” Virgil said. “Not right now. I need to know that this is real first.”

Roman tried to listen for Virgil’s heartbeat but his own was beating in his ears even louder. “Me too,” Roman said, pulling Virgil closer and inhaling the scent of lavender on his jacket. “Me too.”

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Patton whispered quietly, taking Logan’s arm and leaving the two behind.

“What happened to you?”

“I highly doubt you’d believe me.”

Virgil moved away from Roman to stare into his eyes. He had to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. “Try me.”

Roman let out a deep breath. “I was cursed by a Dragon Witch.”

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“I know, but-“

“I believe you.” Virgil took a seat in the bed and patted next to him. “Tell me about it. How’d you wake up? It’s not like anyone kissed you.” He was teasing but Roman couldn’t help the blush that came to his face.

“She... said that I needed to confess my feelings to someone. And then... made me do that a lot.”

“Pretty sure I’d end up resenting that person if I had to face him that much,” Virgil teased.

“Yeah,” Roman said with a forced laugh, relaxing against the mattress. “But I don’t. I just... fell harder only for him to not recognize me again.” He watched Virgil’s face but his own face was burning, giving away his bravado. “I still need to make sure this is real.”

“Roman, what are you talking about?”

Roman held Virgil’s hands tightly in one of his own, letting the other brush against Virgil’s cheek. “I was... blind before. Virgil, you’re... my anchor. I always thought you held me back, but you held keep my stable, grounded. You’re wonderful.” He leaned infinitesimally closer but left the Grand Canyon between their lips. “But I need to make sure this isn’t just another one of her tricks.”

“What are you asking?” Virgil asked in so hushed a whisper it barely left his throat.

Roman’s eyes went from Virgil’s lips to his eyes. “Can I kiss you, Virgil?”

Virgil tried to swallow but found that his mouth was horrifically dry. He gave a small nod and soon felt Roman’s lips on his own.

It wasn’t like the kisses before. It wasn’t smooth or warm. Virgil’s lips were chapped and neither of them moved out of fear or maybe something else. It was only a couple of seconds before Roman pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “If you don’t feel the same, then I’d hope we can pretend this didn’t happen.” He stood from the bed and began to walk away but felt a tug at the fabric of his shirt at the last minute.

“Roman, wait,” Virgil said. He quickly stood but with his terrible posture, he was a few inches shorter than the prince. He pulled Roman down by the neck and kissed him. It was messy and rough but it was human and genuine as he kissed back Roman savored every single moment of it.

When they pulled apart they were at a loss for air with their foreheads pressed together. “I may not be cursed, but,” Roman spoke softly, not bothering to open his eyes for fear that it may all wash away, “this certainly feels like a dream.”

“You’re such a sap,” Virgil said pulling him into another kiss. And then another. And a future with more and more kisses after that. It wasn’t an ending, but it was certainly happy, and that’s all Roman could have ever asked for.

#prinxiety #prinxiety fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides prinxiety #Sanders Sides #Disney AU #ts Roman #Roman Sanders #Ts Virgil #Virgil Sanders

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