Archive of Our Own

The heavy weight in Varian's chest was indescribable, to say the least.

After everything that happened—betraying the Saporians, working with Rapunzel to save Corona, and deliberately offering to die to clean up his own mess and getting turned down by the Princess herself—he should've felt relieved for it all to be over, at least.

And he was, don't get him wrong. Varian was well aware that this chapter of his life was coming to a close.

But his story doesn't just end here. The book doesn't just close. Everything doesn't just go back to normal.

Nothing is really fixed—which leads him to the next question. One he really didn't want to think about.

What now? Where does he go from here?

He wished he knew, but his mind was drawing a blank.

After managing to scale down the roof he had been dropped onto, Varian leaned against a stone wall as he watched the princess in the distance, making note of keeping himself within the shadows.

Rapunzel was sitting in the town square, having just successfully escaped the Quirineon explosion alive and safe. In the distance, he saw Eugene approaching her quickly with his eyes solely focused on her, not giving his surroundings a single thought. He scooped his girlfriend up into a tight hug, holding onto her as if it were the last time they'd ever see each other.

They looked happy. Relieved.

Varian didn't really know how to feel about that.

He turned his gaze to his shoes, absentmindedly wiping a speck of blood from a random graze through his cheek. The heaviness in his chest grew ten-fold, blossoming from his heart and flowing into his bloodstream.

A mountain of conflicted thoughts swarmed him like wasps. On one hand, he was glad that Rapunzel got a good ending. Her kingdom was safe, her loved ones were safe, and she was safe.

And on the other hand, Varian was angry.

(when wasn't he angry?)

He could feel that familiar flame of rage burning deep within his chest, flickering as time caught up with his consciousness, faint but alive nonetheless.

The flame dimmed for all sorts of different reasons, he supposed. It grew smaller as snippets from the day replayed in his mind.

He thought back to being in the cell with Rapunzel after finally standing up to Andrew. She had offered her trust in him—something that cracked the lenses he saw the world through.

She had proved the narrative wrong. The one that wrote him to be unfixable, irredeemable, a monster whose name people whispered on dark streets. Destiny had it written in the books—Varian could not be anything more than destruction.

But no. She believed he could do the right thing. She offered to rely on him, even after everything. (He couldn't believe she had, not after what he'd done to her.)

And in turn, he let himself rely on her. (He couldn't believe he had, not after what she'd done to him.)

And together, with their combined forces, two sides of the narrative, dark and light, they stopped what could have ended in tragedy.

(He couldn't quite believe it.)

Maybe that was what Varian needed in the first place. For someone to give him even a sliver of a chance and see further past his actions. Someone to look him in the eye and say This isn't who you have to be. You don't need to be what society demands of you. You can write your own story.

Rapunzel was truly remarkable, and he was tired of pretending she wasn't. He didn't want to hate her. He didn't want to look at her and only see red. Hatred only led him in circles.

Resenting Rapunzel didn't fix anything, either. It didn't erase the list of crimes he had committed. It didn't make the life sentences he had to his name disappear. It didn't excuse his actions.

It couldn't bring his father back.

Varian's heart stuttered. He choked back a wobbling breath and focused on the ground again.

Still, even if the flame in his heart was weak, it wasn't completely extinguished. Even if hatred didn't fix anything, even if Rapunzel had been so willing to offer her trust to him again, even if she practically saved his life today—

Even so, he couldn't help but feel angry.

He hated that he still felt angry. How could someone so kind, so remarkable, so loving cause him so much grief? So much pain? How did that make sense?

Maybe in another world, Rapunzel had never just... disregarded him so easily, after she promised to help him with the black rocks. Someone who radiated the warmth of the sun didn't deserve resentment, but she'd earned a sliver of it, and it was something that stuck. It clung to Varian's skin like dirt he couldn't scrub off.

Rapunzel still made him angry, and he hated that she did. He wished he could trust her like he used to, wished he could see her the same as he used to—but the image of the princess was permanently scrambled in his head, her name crossed out with permanent red ink, her voice like an alarm he couldn't turn off.

A deep part of himself still saw Rapunzel as a threat—someone he feared, someone he resented, and someone he hated. Nothing could change that.

He was happy that the princess made it out of the Saporian takeover victorious, but he wasn't too happy about the memories that flooded into his mind like a hurricane.

When was the last time Corona had been faced with a threat? When was the last time a force in the kingdom was to be reckoned with?

Varian bit the inside of his cheek hard.

Right.

He remembered that day too well.

He remembered the shaking in his bones, how he scratched and clawed at the amber in front of him, how he almost collapsed with how terrified and desperate and angry he was, how his thoughts were wild and screaming I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen, I'm trying to make it right, I'm sorry.

He remembered feeling like he was drowning. Suffocating in his own rage. Cracking, racking, and finally snapping.

He remembered the dark despair that devoured his heart like a deathly disease. All he saw was amber and horror and hate, so intense that it swept him under a tidal wave of complete madness. He watched Rapunzel's family embrace one another as he saw his own father, his mentor, his inspiration, his whole life was completely lifeless in front of him, trapped inside a crystal of Varian's own design, his own mistakes, his own failures.

Quirin could not be saved. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, no matter how badly he wished he could wake up one day and find the whole incident to be a horrifying dream. A nightmare he could wake up from and tell Quirin about at the breakfast table. A memory he could laugh about with his dad as they pulled weeds together in the garden, did farm work that he always complained about, and baked apple pies together on warm, sunny fall afternoons.

Varian hadn't realized how much he took life for granted—not until it all was stripped away from him, like sand falling through his fingers.

Quirin was gone. Probably for good.

Rapunzel's hair was supposed to work, it was supposed to free him, Dad was supposed to be okay, everything was supposed to be fixed and fine and normal again. But happy endings were only fairytales. Varian had learned that the hard way.

Even thinking about the memory made his senses spaz out. The lights were suddenly too bright, his skin too tight around his bones, the ringing in his ears too loud, his thoughts too wild to shut out.

He remembered being so unbelievably outraged that Rapunzel had reunited with her parents in front of him, as he was mentally breaking into pieces, falling apart, and shattering in front of her. He couldn't believe that she had the audacity to feel any sliver of happiness when all he felt was despair.

How dare she? How dare she?

But times change, months go by, loose ends are somewhat tied, and Varian couldn't find it in himself to care the way he used to. It exhausted him, caring so much about things he couldn't change.

Rapunzel was allowed to have her happy ending. He was allowed to have the opposite.

He had just about nothing going for him, which left him wondering what next? The only good thing he could list off the top of his head was that he... wasn't dead. And even then, was the really worth noting?

His father was gone, he was legally labeled an orphan, he was still an alchemical terror and a biological living weapon, he was still a walking force of destruction who had multiple life sentences to his name, he had another long list of crimes newly stacked against him, and his reputation was still plummeting to the pits of hell.

And worst of all? He had come to the stunning realization that the princess probably, hypothetically, potentially still hated him.

How couldn't she?

Sure, maybe not enough to want him dead. She took the blow in the Quirineon explosion for him, after all, but she definitely held enough of a grudge to want him behind bars. He wouldn't expect any less, not after he singlehandedly kidnapped the queen, threatened to and attempted to slaughter said queen, forced her to use her hair to help free his father, manipulated her into committing treason, and betrayed her to help himself.

How could she ever forgive someone like him? Someone rotten to the very core?

Rapunzel had the complete power to throw him right back into the lowest levels of Corona's most heavily guarded prison. Andrew had called it the "Hell hall," where the irredeemable monsters like him and Varian were sent to rot. Where the rats slept, the shadows lurked, and Corona's most wanted criminals remained.

The dungeon was like a place of no return, a vivid fragment he'd see in a nightmare, cold and dark and feverish. Varian shivered at the very memory of it.

It was a fitting home for someone like him. Someone who was capable of disgustingly cruel things.

He couldn't go back to prison. He couldn't. He couldn't do that again.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Varian turned away from Rapunzel's direction and faced the road, trying to put his mind onto something else, anything else. Before he could register it, he felt his feet begin to move.

He didn't know why he was moving or where he was going, nor did he have a destination or a goal. He just knew that he needed to start walking.

He probably wouldn't get far, anyways. Maybe the guards would arrest him again before he had the chance to run a mile. Maybe they would drag him right back to prison before he even reached the outskirts of the marketplace.

And maybe... maybe they wouldn't come after him at all.

If that were the case, then he didn't know what he'd do next.

Maybe he would return to his village and hold a proper, private funeral for his father. Then maybe he'd pack up all of his old belongings and run away, far beyond the hills that surrounded Corona. He'd leave behind everything he knew—including his dad, Ruddiger, Rapunzel and her friends, alchemy, and home.

And if all of that blew up in his face, then he would probably resort to throwing himself in a ditch somewhere. It wasn't like he had anything left. It wasn't like he had a reason to keep going.

Plan or no plan, he'd just have to figure it out—

"Varian!"

Varian stopped dead in his tracks. Immediately, his limbs locked up like he'd been frozen in time. He didn't dare turn around—not when this could very well be it for him.

"Varian, wait up!"

After a moment of panic, Varian finally turned, expecting to see the absolute worst. But upon first glance, his expectations pretty much blew up in his face. He just saw Eugene in the distance, sprinting his way like his life depended on it.

Confusion bubbled in his stomach, anxious and uncertain. Again, he prepared himself for the worst.

This must've been it. He was going to be arrested again. Eugene would have the guards snatch him off his feet and put him in cuffs too tight. They'd toss him behind bars like he was a sack of potatoes to be disregarded and forgotten about. They'd keep the shackles on him for days on end until they burned and bruised deep into his wrists, permanently scarring his flesh and leaving long-lasting reminders of what he was.

Chaos.

"Kid!" Eugene shrieked again, finally slowing down as he approached him. Varian went stiff as stone as Eugene stopped in front of him, kneeling down and heaving over himself as he caught his breath. "Whe—Where do you think you're going, Varian?" He said between heavy breaths, "Me 'n Raps were lookin' for you."

The alchemist's eyes darted from side to side, cringing further into himself. His jaw tightened as his mind drew a blank.

He didn't know. He just wanted to get away.

But saying that out loud would've made him look all kinds of synonyms for suspicious. So instead, he shrugged weakly and stammered over himself, "I-I don't—I'm not sure."

After a beat, he looked into Eugene's eyes and searched for something familiar. Resentment. Any sign of it.

He couldn't scratch that itch that something bad was about to happen, even if he tried.

Eugene was here to arrest him. He was sure of it.

"Not sure?" The man raised an eyebrow, finally standing straight and giving him a weird look, "Well you're certainly going somewhere now! Rapunzel's looking for you. Said she wanted to talk."

His face must've twisted into something along the lines of horror, given how the man blinked at him slowly with the kind of patience that one would give a frightened animal.

The mere mention of Rapunzel's name made something deep within Varian's chest tremble in fear. He hated to admit it, but he was a little terrified of her at the moment. Whatever she needed to talk to him about, it couldn't be good.

Upon recent realization, Rapunzel held so much power over him, whether he liked it or not. She had the final say in what happened to him. With the snap of a finger, she was able to execute him the very moment the sun peeked over the horizon, and he had no say or control over any of it.

Who knew what she needed him for? Maybe she was going to finally have him arrested again. Maybe instead of a cell, it would be a cage—a small one, pitch black and narrow, where his wrists would be chained to the ground to ensure that he couldn't escape. Maybe he'd hang at dawn without the chance to say goodbye to Ruddiger. Maybe death row was how his story came to a tragic end, curtains closed.

The thought was terrifying, but did he really deserve to fear those possible outcomes? The list of crimes against him was long, long, long, and the newly written fouls on that list weren't helping his case either. Attempted regicide, attempted murder, multiple counts of treason, terrorism, escape from custody, performance of illegal experiments, drugging of multiple persons, kidnapping, multiple threats of violence, and the list probably went on.

If those weren't crimes punishable by death, then he didn't know what was.

Before he had the chance to think of the worst possible outcomes, Varian's eyes widened when Rapunzel suddenly came into view. She poked her head out from behind her boyfriend and stepped directly next to him, sticking close to his side like bread would butter.

She looked like she was about to say something important before she shot a glance to the guard that was tailing behind her.

She looked him up and down for a second before clearing her throat and giving him a hard stare. "Can we please have some privacy?" She asked, not unkindly but with a certain kind of force that caught the soldier off guard.

He sputtered for a moment, looking between her and Varian and gesturing to him vaguely, "But—but Princess, that's—that's The Alchemist. The Alchemical Terror. The same young man who took the queen hostage, threatened the entire Royal Family, nearly took over the kingdom twice—"

"I know what he's done," Rapunzel interrupted, raising a hand to stop the guard. Her tone suddenly shifted into something darker, "But I promise you that if he was an active threat, then I would've taken care of him already."

Varian swallowed roughly.

Eugene nodded alongside her, crossing his arms and giving the guard a prideful grin, "She can handle herself. Trust me, I'd listen to what she says."

The guard looked between the three of them for a moment before huffing and marching away, not before giving Varian a hard scowl that screamed all kinds of I'm watching you. The alchemist watched him go with a tight frown.

Finally, Rapunzel turned to him, her demeanor shifting into something much gentler. Varian was surprised by the way her eyes softened at him, like he was a wild animal she was scared of frightening.

"Hi, Varian." She started awkwardly, fiddling with her thumbs, "You're probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you."

Slowly, Varian nodded, feeling out of breath. His breathing had gotten unsteady as his thoughts clashed and rumbled like thunder.

He could feel it. This was it. He was going back to prison. They were putting him on the chopping block. He'd hang publicly in the streets tomorrow morning.

Before he could register himself speaking, the words were already tumbling out of him, quick and wobbly and panicked, "A—are you going to arrest me?"

He winced, pressing his eyes shut as he waited for reality to come crashing down on him.

But it... didn't. The impact of her response never came.

Varian slowly cracked his eyes open to see Rapunzel blinking at him slowly, like she was surprised he even asked.

"Well..." she started, her hands combing through her long braid as she spoke, "Not exactly."

Varian blinked in return, confliction making his brows furrow. Not exactly? What did she mean by that?

There must've been a catch, strings attached, something that would flip his world upside down.

And his world would most certainly do a flip; just not in the way he'd been expecting.

"Varian," Rapunzel started, gesturing to him as a whole, "You've made... a lot of mistakes. You've done things that have hurt lots of people in the past. But everyone has made mistakes, good people and bad people alike. So, I'm going to ask you one thing. Do you think you're a good person?"

He blinked roughly, confusion slowly warping his expression. That was not what he'd been expecting to hear. At all.

The alchemist swallowed hoarsely, adjusting the maroon bandana around his neck and fidgeting with the ends of his gloves. He hated that question. He always had, when he thought about it.

Even when he was young, Varian was always an accident magnet. Unconsciously, without breaking a sweat, he still managed to be a danger to the people around him. Even if helping his peers was in his best interest—like trying to create the water boilers in Old Corona—he still managed to wreak havoc onto anything he came into contact with. He was bound to destruction, to the bad, to evil. It was rooted deep within his core, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"No." He said bluntly, his eyes finding their way back to the ground. There wasn't a kinder way to word it—Varian was a master of destruction. He was capable of gruesome and terrible things. No good person had the power or willingness to commit the crimes he had.

At the realization of how hollow his voice sounded, he stumbled over his words a bit, rephrasing it immediately, "I-I do not, princess. I'm sorry."

Rapunzel just smiled hopefully at him—the same smile she gave him when they were locked in a cell together.

"Do you want to be?"

Varian blinked slowly. It took a second for him to fully process that question.

He... wasn't sure.

Life was full of choices, and the ones he picked out certainly altered his way of living. Becoming a criminal changed him in ways he didn't think could be changed.

Becoming a criminal taught him things about himself, about life, about justice, and about revenge. Becoming a criminal showed him firsthand what prison was like, what the people in prison were like, and how those same people were dangerous and destructive. Becoming a criminal forced him to live through freezing climates, crippling solitude, brutal starvation, and the slow unraveling of his own mind. If it hadn't been for Andrew's mere presence, he probably would've gone completely nuts.

But becoming a criminal also taught him a thing or two about control.

Varian always knew that he was a strange case, an oddball, maybe even a little bit of a nutjob. He had the advantage of being wickedly smart for his age, of being ahead of his generation, of having ideas that others would've deemed impossible to accomplish. He was the madman around Old Corona, the awkward and lanky teenager who couldn't keep out of trouble because he was just too curious, too eager, too hopeful.

But if a freakishly smart kid goes through enough hardship, enough pain, enough grief in his life, he just might snap.

A person like him had the ability to singlehandedly take on the combined forces of an entire kingdom. He was capable of taking royalty hostage to get what he wanted. He had the power to change what needed to be changed by brute force and will.

He trapped his father in an amber prison? Well, that was fine, he didn't need to panic, he'd just ask Rapunzel for help. Rapunzel wouldn't help him after she promised she would? That was fine, he didn't need her, he'd just figure out how to free his father himself. He needed the Sundrop to save Quirin? Okay, that was simple enough, he just needed to break into the castle to find it. Rapunzel wouldn't let him take the Sundrop because it was considered treason? That wasn't a problem, laws didn't matter, he'd just take it anyways. The Sundrop didn't work? Rapunzel could work instead. Rapunzel wouldn't willingly use her hair to help him? Then he'd make her.

Being a criminal made him realize that he couldn't get what he wanted by asking nicely. He could achieve what he sought out to do by lying, cheating, manipulating, and forcing.

It brought a sense of control over him—a sense he craved when he wasn't in control of anything else in his life. It was thrilling in all kinds of dark ways. The fact that his very name was feared over the Seven Kingdoms made him feel powerful, unstoppable, and threatening.

But Varian was only human, and humans were simple creatures. Humans wanted to feel validated, they wanted to be loved, they wanted to feel accepted. And when revenge came, regret followed.

It was something he still found himself struggling to come to terms with. Revenge didn't really fix anything. Working with the Saporians didn't fix anything. Trying to erase the memories of the people in Corona didn't fix anything.

It didn't excuse his criminal history, it didn't shorten his prison sentence, and it couldn't bring his father back.

The first step to even barely repairing any of that was by learning to let revenge go.

"I do," He finally said, his eyes tracing the gravel underneath his feet, "I want... I want to fix this. Fix what I've done. Properly this time."

Rapunzel's face brightened, her smile so contagious that Varian couldn't help but grin in return. For once, instead of a hollow ache in his bones, the angry flame raging in his chest, and a hurricane flooding through his mind—there was just a faint sense of warmth. It was such a nostalgic and fuzzy feeling that he felt himself getting a little lightheaded.

"You know," the princess grinned, pinching Eugene in the waist playfully, most likely a loving habit between the two of them. The man snickered as she gestured to him, "Eugene's also made a lot of mistakes. Did bad things. You know. Crime."

Eugene rolled his eyes affectionately and scoffed, "He already knows that, Blondie. Flynn Ryder is infamous for a reason, no?"

Rapunzel hummed and continued, "And even though he was a wanted thief across the Seven Kingdoms, me and my family gave him a chance, because people who put in the effort to be better deserve that chance. Not everyone gets their lives right on the first try. Eugene, Lance, Angry, Red—"

"We'd know a little bit about redemption," Eugene explained, "Given that you're currently standing in front of the original reformed criminal, I think you should take it from me."

"Exactly! Thank you, Eugene," Rapunzel beamed, nudging her boyfriend again, then turning back to Varian, "He's right. I think that every person is capable of changing for the better, no matter how bad of an apple they can be. We just... have to grow from those mistakes and choices from our past and learn from them."

She reached out and put a reassuring hand on Varian's shoulder. He immediately jolted at the touch, but his shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw the warm glow in Rapunzel's eyes. "And you deserve a second chance too, Varian." She smiled, "You deserve to try again."

It felt like the hole in Varian's chest had filled. He didn't know what an appropriate reaction to her words were, so he just stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm willing to pardon you," Rapunzel said. Varian's breath came to a complete halt. His senses zeroed in on those words and them alone.

What? Did he hear that right?

"But there's rules and circumstances that we got to set," the princess explained, "Nothing needs to be permanent or settled yet, but for now, this is what we're going to do. You'll serve out your legal punishments under my guardianship, which means that we'll be putting you on community service until further notice. You'll be staying in the capital under my care as we figure out the rest of your legal issues. With your time in the castle, we can start looking into counseling and communal work for you."

Nodding slowly as this information settled in, Varian turned down and stared at his feet again. Relief softened his tense muscles, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could finally breathe. This conversation was going a lot better than he initially thought it would.

Originally, he thought he'd be back in prison at best, killed at worst. But no, what was he expecting? Rapunzel sentencing someone to death? He didn't think she was capable of swearing, let alone capable of executing someone.

But still, it was remarkable. He should've at least filled out the rest of his life sentence. Now he was getting a conditional pardon. Community service was child's play compared to what he was expecting.

Then again, with Rapunzel in charge, he shouldn't have been surprised. If it was King Frederic deciding his fate, his head probably would've been mounted on a wall.

"Yeah, okay," he squeaked, nodding slower, "That's—that's completely valid, Princess. I understand."

Rapunzel inhaled deeply, her thoughts making her frown tighten. After a moment, she started hesitantly, her brows furrowing as she explained, "Varian, listen to me carefully. Why you aren't going to be arrested is because you did something kind of incredible today."

He blinked a few times. "What?" He sputtered, "What do you mean?"

Rapunzel gestured to him as a whole, "You may have been working with the Saporians at first, but the moment Corona and its people were being threatened—something you didn't want—you stood your ground. You told Andrew No, you told him what he was doing was Wrong, and instead of letting it happen, you did something about it."

Varian stared at her with wide eyes as her words echoed in his mind.

In the past, he rarely ever stood up to Andrew. He had always been older, wiser, meaner—trying to challenge him would only end in disaster, and Varian had the scars on his back to prove it, so he never asked questions. He blindly trusted the guy, did what was asked of him, and never questioned the narrative.

Andrew had been the one person to look at him and see potential. He had been the one person to accept him at his worst. He had been the one person to show him "kindness" when the rest of the world had a vendetta against him.

But when Andrew twisted the end of their deal, the image of him cracked in Varian's head, shattering completely like a broken mirror.

Andrew was never his friend. Varian was just another tool to him, as he was to everyone else. And he had been desperate enough to fall for it. 

It was shameful, how easily he had taken the bait.

Calling Andrew out for the numerous things he'd been responsible for, for changing their plan last minute, for using him—it scared a weak and vulnerable part of him that he didn't think could be scared anymore.

And Rapunzel was aware of that. She had noticed how genuinely terrified Varian was of Andrew.

And it made him feel a little less awful about it.

"When given the choice, you chose to help me save Corona, even when that put you at risk of getting seriously hurt," Rapunzel explained, her eyes shimmering with genuine joy, "That's amazing, Varian. And as much hurt as you've caused me and my family in the past, I didn't and don't want you getting hurt under any circumstances. You were willing to lose your life to fix the situation you helped create. Your actions today showed me that you deserve to try again."

Her hand tightened around his shoulder, firm but gentle. Varian winced out of habit, unconsciously assuming that the gesture was coming from a place of malice. But looking up, there was no such thing in Rapunzel's eyes. Just hope.

But slowly, a different emotion poured into her irises. Varian sensed it immediately—the way her jaw tightened, the way her eyes dimmed, the way her brows furrowed.

After a moment, she spoke softly, her tone shifting into something much more serious and gentle, "Varian, I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. For pushing you and your dad aside when you needed help."

Varian's breath hitched.

"I broke a promise to you and I can't tell you how sorry I am," She said, her eyes burning the words into his head, "It must've... what you've gone through in the past year was not something anyone your age should've dealt with."

Oh.

Oh.

It felt like a rock had been lodged into his throat. Varian stared at her for a long time, trying to find the words to respond with but grasping onto nothing.

This whole interaction had been nothing like he expected—not only was Rapunzel not angry with him, far from it, but she was pardoning him. She was giving him a chance. She had apologized to his face.

He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. He tried to force the words out, nearly choking on his breath as he stuttered, "Pr—princess—"

"Listen, Varian." Rapunzel shook her head, "I still have a promise I need to keep. We still need to free your dad."

Time came to a complete halt.

Varian forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to think. His mind blanked out as those words replayed again and again in his head.

That didn't make sense. Quirin was gone.

He tried to make sense of her words as he choked out, "Wh—What?"

"Your dad," Rapunzel repeated, "I learned a lot from travelling across the Seven Kingdoms. I think... I think I know how to free him. I think there's a way."

Oh.

Oh god.

Varian couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Too many thoughts were clashing against each other in his head.

Subconsciously, he reached out and helplessly gripped Rapunzel's sleeve like she was a lifeline. His breathing had gotten heavy and shallow as he stared at her blankly.

He was waiting—practically begging for a catch. It was too good to be true. If she was joking, then he wasn't laughing. That wasn't funny. She couldn't just say that.

But the catch never came. She just stared right back at him, something hopeful glistening in her eyes.

"Are you..." Varian forced out, his words wobbling, "You aren't kidding? There's—There's actually—?"

"I can't promise a result you'll like," Rapunzel interrupted, her expression twisting into something along the lines of grief.

Varian felt his eyes burn at the thought.

He didn't want to think of the possibility, he didn't want to come to terms with it, he didn't want to accept it—but one thing could very well be true.

Quirin could be dead in the amber. He could've been dead for a long, long time.

The very thought had Varian clutching Rapunzel's sleeve tighter.

And whose fault was that? His thoughts laughed, but he pushed them away immediately before they tore him to shreds. No, no, that wouldn't do him any good, he couldn't think about the bad. This was good news. His dad could very well be alive, too. Alive, unharmed, and safe.

He latched onto that thought with a mental grip tight enough to bruise.

"But there's one thing I can promise," Rapunzel interrupted his cluster of thoughts, "And that's for me to be there and try my best. We're leaving to Old Corona first thing tomorrow. How does that sound?"

That sounded more than outstanding. Varian had to fight back the urge to cry.

"Great," he said weakly, his limbs feeling like jelly as a wobbling grin stretched over his face, "I—I'm... I don't even know what to say. I'm... looking forward to it?"

Looking forward to it was an understatement. It felt like Varian's heart was about to shut down with how fast it was beating. He felt nearly faint with how his surroundings seemed to blur together.

Suddenly, his thoughts came to a halt as he realized just how strong his grip on Rapunzel's sleeve was. He immediately tore his hand away and flinched back, a similar memory bleeding through his mind as he stammered, "So—sorry for grabbing you—"

Fear boiled in his veins before he glanced up to see Rapunzel smiling—not the reaction he'd been expecting. He winced back further when she reached an open palm out, a simple offering that silently said It's okay. The alchemist stared at her before hesitantly extending his own hand and setting it in her grasp.

Her fingers closed around his, almost like they were making a pact of peace. Her expression was soft, gentle, warm as she said to him, "Again, I'm sorry, Varian. I really hope we can make this right. I hope that maybe we can... be friends again. Fix this. Together."

Together.

"I—" he had a hard time trying to get the words out. Of course he wanted to fix this. He wanted to learn how to forgive more than anything. He wanted to learn how to trust, to love, to live again.

But the flame still flickered.

He hated that it did, but it still swayed deep within his chest, and he didn't think any apology could ever fully extinguish it.

"I-I might... Princess, believe me when I say that I want to fix this. I just..." he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst as he blurted, "I-I need time, Rapunzel."

Worried with how concerning that sounded, he tried to elaborate, "I can't... I don't forgive you. Not yet. Please give me time."

He waited for all hell to break lose. He waited for some sort of negative reaction. Anything.

Instead, he was surprised when she nodded simply, "I understand, Varian. You need time. I think I need time. But... when you're ready, I'm here."

The shock of such a kind phrase left him feeling... odd, per se. An emotion he couldn't last remember feeling. Varian felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders, something faintly warm spreading through his chest like hot water pooling through cracks of cold concrete.

It had been such a long time since he'd felt such a thing. The sensation felt like finally breathing after drowning under cold water for so long.

"Thank you, Rapunzel," He breathed, blinking back the sudden moisture in his eyes, "I'll—I'll try. I'll try to make up for what I've done."

Rapunzel nodded, like she didn't have a single doubt in him. "I believe in you, Varian," she said softly, then squeezed his shoulder again before letting go. Her gaze shifted to Eugene next to her, and she stared at him for a long time before putting a finger to her chin. "In that case," she hummed thoughtfully, "I think I'm going to put you in Eugene's care."

Varian blinked before turning to the man slowly. Eugene looked equally confused before turning to Rapunzel and raising an eyebrow. "Wait—what? Why me?"

"You heard him," Rapunzel said like that explained anything, gesturing to Varian as a whole, "He's under my guardianship, but he needs space to reflect. I think we need time to get used to... being on good terms."

She turned to Varian to clarify, and the alchemist simply shrugged. She had a point.

"He could learn a lot from you," Rapunzel explained, gesturing to Varian again, "He needs guidance, Eugene."

Eugene looked towards him with uncertainty. "I don't think I'm cut out for babysitting, Raps," he cringed, giving him a look that said No Offense But I Hate Kids. Varian stared back at him incredulously, his brow creasing with boredom. "I'm fifteen years old," he said bluntly, "I don't think this is considered babysitting, Flynn."

"Exactly!" Rapunzel grinned cheekily, "What did you say earlier, Eugene? That you were the original reformed criminal? Why not show him the ropes, Mr. Expert?"

Fitzherbert rolled his eyes dramatically, more for show than anything, and threw his hands up defensively. "Fine!" he exasperated, "You got me with that one. I'll keep an eye on him, Blondie."

"Great!" Rapunzel beamed, clasping her hands together, "Didn't doubt you for a second, Eugene. In that case, I really got to talk to the guards. Still trying to round up every Saporian and have them all arrested. You know, ruler stuff. Hurray."

Before she turned, she gave Varian a gentle pat on the shoulder, her smile quite literally infectious. "Thank you for being so understanding, Varian," She said, "I'm looking forward to figuring out your situation with you once you're ready to have me."

Varian stared at her before returning her smile with a weak grin, tired and wobbling but real.

Then she turned on her heel and hurried off, leaving Varian standing there and blinking slowly.

He stared back down at his feet, mentally stepping back to let his brain catch up with reality.

He was still trying to process just how lucky he'd gotten in this situation. Rapunzel had been so... so kind. So willing to offer him support. Even after everything.

After every crime he'd committed, he wasn't going to be arrested. Even with conditions, he was technically a free man.

Wow.

"Well, that was eventful?" A voice suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts, making Varian flinch abruptly and blink. He turned his gaze back up to see Fitzherbert still standing there, his eyes following the princess longingly, "You really did it, kid."

Varian watched him do this with a weird expression. "Did... did what, exactly?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"You're going on the whole redemption journey. Didn't think you had it in you, but you always find a way to defy the odds," Eugene hummed, reaching up and ruffling his hair to purposefully annoy him. Varian tensed at such casual contact and immediately swatted at his hand. "Uh, yeah. Kinda always had a knack for that, I think."

The man turned away, mumbling something about being hungry— then froze, his eyes whipping right back to Varian and focusing on him. The alchemist stared back at him with tense shoulders. "What?" he asked anxiously, "Do I have something on my face?"

"Nah, not that," Eugene dismissed, reaching up and ruffling his hair again, "I didn't even notice how long your hair got. You look like you're about to start tripping over it at this rate."

Blinking in surprise, Varian glanced up and brushed his dark, tangled hair out of his face. It really had gotten long, he also just realized. His bangs reached down to his nose, covering his eyes completely and blocking most of his vision. He hadn't really noticed until Eugene had pointed it out.

He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear absentmindedly. "You say that like it's half as long as Rapunzel's, which it's not. But yeah, you're right," He thought out loud, "I would've cut it, but... you know how prison is with sharp things. I guess it just slipped my mind after I escaped, anyways."

He didn't think much about his words until he saw the expression on Eugene's face. There was a specific glint in his eyes that Varian didn't see too often. Something softer, more serious, more concerned.

Oh, the alchemist thought, he didn't like the implications of that look.

The man studied him for a second too long, like he was looking past his flesh and observing his overall core. Varian tensed under his gaze, unease pinching his muscles tightly, and he reminded himself to stop talking so much. Andrew hated when he did that.

Fitzherbert cleared his throat after noticing his discomfort. "You know... I did some time myself when I was your age. Been in and out of jail plenty of times," He said suddenly, the shift in his tone blatantly obvious.

Varian's eyes widened at him, his curiosity sparking to life like a flickering lightbulb. "Really? You? I thought good thieves never got caught?"

Eugene choked on his breath before looking over his nails nonchalantly. "Well!" He bit back defensively, "You aren't born with talent! It's an art that you have to build up to. Hard work makes good results, and good results makes good loot."

Varian rolled his eyes incredulously, "Yeah, that's some nice advice to give a criminal."

"Ah ah ah!" The man waved a finger in his face. Varian glared at him as he beamed, "You mean ex-criminal! You're on the road to reformation now, kid. Finally on the right track."

The right track? He certainly hoped he was.

The alchemist turned his gaze back to the distance, tuning out Eugene's voice and focusing on the townsfolk, who were pouring back into the streets from the mines. He noticed a few familiar faces in the town square—people he singlehandedly forced into labor, into danger, into fear.

Anxiety boiled on the edge of his skin. These people had even more of a reason to despise him. Probably enough to want him exiled, or worse. Killed. His heart felt a little heavier at the though.

Eugene cleared his throat again, grabbing Varian's attention once more, "Anyways, to my point. After you serve your time—or, in your case, after your criminal streak is over and done with, you usually... eat some actual food. Rest on an actual bed. Clean up and cut that mop of hair a little shorter, you know?"

The alchemist watched the way Eugene said this nonchalantly, but the concern wasn't hidden too well.

He really didn't know how to feel about that.

It unnerved him, how casual Eugene was acting towards him, even though they were both so used to showing each other distrust. Varian stared at him skeptically as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, thoughts upon thoughts brewing in his head.

"You don't have to sugar coat it like that, Flynn," he sighed heavily after a moment, "Whatever you have to say, I promise you I can handle it. I'm not five."

"... True," Eugene replied sheepishly, "It's just that... how do I word this..."

Varian raised an eyebrow as the man looked him directly in the eye, "You know what? I'll be blunt. You look like you just rolled out of your own grave, kid. When was the last time you've eaten something?"

Oh.

He... couldn't remember.

Sometime in the past week, surely, but eating wasn't something that he kept track of anymore. When he was in prison, his relationship with food was rocky.

The cells were damp and cold, making his bones lock up from the chill, and it was hard to even find the energy to sit up straight, let alone eat anything. He tried to choke down the stale bread the guards threw him, but often did he find himself hacking it all back up.

At first, he hadn't focused solely on surviving, because it hadn't been an issue to him at the time. He thought he'd be in prison for a week or two, escape eventually, and then avenge his father somehow.

But as the days went on with zero progress, he found himself losing hope. He was in that same cell for much, much, much longer than he'd initially expected, and his body started carving itself out because of it. And slowly, like a withering flower, he decayed in that prison as days faded into weeks, weeks into months, and months into a year.

He still remembered his cell vividly. It had been dirty—far too dirty for his ungloved hands to ever get used to. He constantly felt like maggots were crawling all over his skin, chewing through his flesh, and slowly eating him alive. If not them, then he was sure the cold would.

The temperature during the winter was so cruel on his body that it was hard to even breathe some days. The frozen rat corpse he slept across from every night wasn't great company, but looking back on it, he would've preferred it over Andrew's a thousand times over.

The restraints the guards held him in had burned permanent marks into his pale and weak wrists, the scars so mangled and twisted and ugly that he avoided looking at them. He hid his wrists underneath any pair of gloves he could find.

Every scrap of food that was thrown in his cell was stale, hard, and practically frozen solid thanks to the cold. He tried swallowing the bitter food down, but most days it all seemed to come right back up. He couldn't keep anything down—anxiety had claimed every part of his body, and there was no room for anything else.

It consumed him like vines growing around a brick wall, unwanted but spreading nonetheless. It got to a point where his body would start shutting down, collapsing on itself, and almost turning off. Fainting spells were a daily occurrence due to his severe lack of nutrients, sleep, and water.

It damaged the natural system of his body severely. Even after the Saporians broke Andrew out of their shared cell and took him along, his body still fought to keep itself alive. Even after escaping, he still couldn't eat properly.

So he just didn't. It was a simple solution, really, because food was the very last thing on his mind. There were too many things to keep track of, too many things Andrew wanted him to do, too many formulas he had to perfect, too many things to stress over, and only one person he had to avenge.

(Who he believed could not be saved, because Varian had singlehandedly killed him.)

(Varian had killed him.)

He failed to notice the heavy breaths escaping him until a finger snapped in his face. Varian blinked out of his expected spiral as and turned to Eugene, who was looking at him deeply. Concern was written in the way his brows creased as he frowned. "Varian? You okay?" He started uneasily, "Thought I lost you there."

Varian's gaze quickly flicked to the floor as he bit his cheek harder. Andrew hated when he zoned out. Hated it. "Yeah—yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"... Right."

He could tell that Eugene knew that something was off, but he didn't owe him an explanation or an honest answer, so he didn't elaborate. Varian didn't quite trust him, and the feeling was most definitely mutual, so he held his tongue and kept his emotions close to his chest.

They both stood there for a moment, silent and tense like they were too conflicted to figure out what to say next. Finally, Eugene sighed heavily, the motion making his shoulders sag, and he reached out and took Varian's hand without a warning.

Varian tensed as the man started to walk, dragging him behind like he was a lost child. Fitzherbert didn't look at him as he huffed, "Yeah, I'm not letting this slide, we're getting you cleaned up. Can't stand looking at all those tangles in your hair."

Varian stumbled as he was tugged along, his nerves doing multiple backflips at the physical contact that he was absolutely not used to. He felt his heart ram anxiously against his chest as he looked around warily, his gaze scanning over a few of the returning townsfolk who eyed him darkly in return.

"W—wait, wait a sec—where are we going—?" The alchemist squeaked, cringing at the physical touch but allowing it without a fight. Eugene replied like it was common sense, "To the castle. We have some serious work to do concerning you, kiddo."

"The castle?" Varian blurted, his eyes going as wide as apples. He cringed as a few people gave him weird looks, "Right now? In front of all these people? Isn't me being there going to cause problems?"

"Not if Rapunzel can help it," Eugene said simply, "She's in charge for now, so she won't like...
Let anyone burn you at the stake or whatever, Y'know?"

He didn't know if Eugene could promise that, but he didn't say it out loud.

The palace gates came into view, making Varian's heart somehow pound even faster.

He felt eerily nauseous as Eugene led him by the hand, but he decided to just keep his mouth shut and follow him. It wasn't like he had much of a choice—this was his life now, after all.

——

Varian looked at himself in the mirror for a long, long time.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his own face. He purposefully avoided it in fear of seeing the person in his reflection.

He didn't want to see the bloodshot eyes, the tangled and long hair, the sunken-in cheeks, the tear stained skin, and the ghostly complexion of the stranger staring back at him. He didn't recognize the person in the mirror, and his world shattered when he remembered Oh, that's me. I've done awful things that can't be forgiven.

But now, he was starting to see a little bit of himself in his reflection again. Eugene had led him to a guest room and demanded that he took a shower, which was very much needed, so Varian cleaned the dirt from his skin, yanked the tangles out of his hair, wiped the tear stains from his cheeks, and finally—the person he saw in the mirror was someone who was just tired. Fraying at the ends. Close to collapsing.

He definitely looked better than before. With his whole villain getup, he looked like he was about to snap on a dime and light a house on fire. Now, after being freshly bathed, in clothes that were clean, in skin that wasn't ridden with maggots—he looked at least a little more alive. Less like a zombie, anyways.

It took a second to gather the courage, but Varian finally pried his gaze away from the mirror, afraid that if he looked at himself for too long, he'd see something he didn't like. Instead, he gathered his things and pushed the door to the bathroom open. He was greeted to a simple, small bedroom, with wooden floors and stone walls that were much cozier than his old cell

This was going to be the place he spent most of his time for the next while, he guessed.

He wasn't mad about it—in fact, he was beyond grateful. An actual bedroom instead of the hard cot in his cell? Instead of being told to sleep wherever he was working? Instead of not sleeping at all against his will? He'd prefer this any day.

Varian spotted a small table next to him and carefully set his things on it. He made sure to slip his pair of gloves back on quickly, then took his goggles from the pile and held them tightly in his hands. He was in the motion of putting them on before he stopped and stared at them for a long time, his mind going blank and his mentality taking a long pause.

The day happened too fast for him to fully process. It was a lot to take in, and his bones felt heavy from the thought of it all.

Andrew was gone. Prison wasn't something he had to worry about anymore. Rapunzel had given him a second chance. Dad was coming home.

A long sigh of deep relief escaped him before he realized it. What a day.

Suddenly, a loud fist rammed against his door, causing Varian to jolt and turn to the owner of the sound. He walked up to the door and cracked it open an inch, hesitantly poking his head out to be greeted with a grinning Eugene.

Varian stared at him as the man waved, "Heya, kiddo. Got my hair cutting supplies if you're ready for me to trim that mop on your head."

Varian rolled his eyes at the comment, but there was no real malicious intent behind it. He was kind of relieved at how lighthearted Eugene was trying to make things. It felt like a breath of fresh air from what he was usually used to.

"It's really not that long, but whatever helps you sleep at night," he shrugged, pushing the door open after a moment of hesitation. Eugene strolled in with a small box in his hands, and he walked up to the small table and pulled the chair out from next to it. He swerved the chair into the middle of the room and dropped the box onto the table with a prideful grin.

"I gotta pull out all my good scissors for this! My babies," he grinned, lovingly gesturing to the box like it was something valuable worth showing off, "So sit down and let me work my magic. You'll be glad I'm here because I have really good ratings."

Varian raised an eyebrow at him, but he couldn't help the confused smile that tugged the corners of his lips without his permission.

"Yeah, I bet you're a real barber, Flynn," he said sarcastically, but there was no real bite to his voice. No cold emotions in his chest. Just warmth, nostalgia, and quiet hope. He appreciated how normal Eugene was treating him. It made him feel human.

But his grin quickly fell into a frown. 

What he couldn't understand was why.

Just a few hours ago, Eugene had blatantly refused to trust him. It made sense, really, because Varian didn't trust him either—but it was odd.

He was quite literally an alchemical weapon, a terror across the seven kingdoms, a force to be reckoned with, a threat to men and women and children alike, a wizard of destruction.

And yet Eugene was just... treating him like he used to. Like he was still just an awkward kid who didn't know what he was doing.

Something about it was skeptical, but Varian couldn't explain why. Not that he wanted to be feared or despised, but it was just something he naturally expected.

He was a horrible person, and not being treated as such made alarms blare in his head.

After a beat standing there, conflicted and confused, Varian finally obliged, walking up and taking a seat in the small chair. Eugene sifted through the box before he took out a thin pair of scissors, holding them up like they were a trophy. "Lance gave me these!" he beamed, "He used to cut my hair for me sometimes when we were kids. Crazy good at it, that guy, and he doesn't even have hair. Guess that's irony for you, huh?"

Varian hummed in acknowledgment, half listening and half zoning out, and looked back down to the goggles in his hands. Out of habit, his thumbs traced the lenses tenderly, feeling the coolness of the glass through his gloves, like his touch was grazing over old and nostalgic memories.

He remembered the day Quirin had given his goggles to him, his dad's face twisted with grief that Varian hadn't been old enough to understand. Apparently, they had belonged to his mother before she had vanished across the seven kingdoms.

Now that Varian was older, he knew the sentimental value his goggles held to his dad, therefore to him. It was kind of funny how they had gone through the same things that he had. His goggles survived childhood, the black rocks, prison, Andrew, and the Saporian revolution right alongside him. The old scratches and marks on the lenses were evidence of that point.

His goggles held a deep sentimental value to him. They were a part of who he was. They reflected him as a person.

"Really starin' at those, huh?"

Varian blinked out of his thoughts and turned to Eugene, who wasn't looking at him in return but rather looking at his goggles as well.

The alchemist grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "Uh, Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just—just thinking."

"Yup," Eugene nodded in agreement, finally walking over to him and leaning a hand on the back of the chair, "Lots to think about, huh? Quite the eventful day we all had."

A weak shrug and a hum of acknowledgement was all Varian could really muster. Eugene didn't seem to mind, given how he absentmindedly twirled the pair of scissors in his hands and said, "So, how much are we chopping? Just a trim or something drastic?"

Varian stared down at his goggles again for a few long seconds.

"Can you cut off everything that grew?"

"Same old, same old?" the man raised an eyebrow, "You really want the same cut you've had for, like, the first fourteen years of your life? Kinda lame, hair stripe."

Varian shrugged without shame, catching his reflection in the lenses of his goggles. He could see his eyes underneath his overgown bangs, still strangely dull and rimmed with dark eyebags.

Rapunzel had said something once that stuck with him. When they were just getting to know each other, she explained the story of her blonde hair and how it came to be. She had said that hair held memories, and in the end, she was glad that her golden locks had returned. Rapunzel embraced every part of herself, bad memories and all. She wasn't afraid to hide the parts about herself that she wanted to forget or didn't like.

But maybe Varian was always different from her in that regard.

"Yeah. Just chop it. Everything that grew."

If hair held memories, then he wanted his gone.

"Alright. Whatever you say, kiddo."

He sat stone still as Eugene began snipping off the ends of his hair. In the corner of his eye, he saw the tangled ends falling around him like feathers, but dead and frayed and old.

It felt oddly relieving in some way he couldn't describe, like he was finally moving on from a chapter in his life that he wanted to forget. Each strand that fell felt like one dreadful emotion, memory, or regret that Varian had ever felt in his life finally falling.

This felt like the first step down the road to reformation. This felt like the first step to changing for the better.

Blinking, he noticed Eugene humming softly behind him as he worked, busying himself by filling the silence. What he still didn't understand was why the man was acting so normal with him to begin with.

A part of Varian appreciated the lack of coldness, but another part of him was anxiously waiting for it to come. He wasn't used to being treated like a person who wasn't capable of terrorizing an entire kingdom. He was used to hard eyes, judgemental stares, and irises that held fear.

But there was no such thing in Eugene's body language or expression. Maybe that was because the man had an excellent poker face, or maybe that was because Varian generally wasn't good at reading people, but the point still stood.

From what he knew and what he saw, Eugene wasn't afraid of him, nor was he judging him, nor was he treating him like he was capable of ending lives.

And he didn't know why.

Varian deserved to be thrown back in jail at least. But not even that happened.

Not only that, but he was being treated as an actual person, who had many flaws but was definitely trying—instead of being treated like a tool, like a monster, like a threat.

And he didn't know why.

Before he knew it, words were tumbling out of him, unplanned and sudden, "Why are you doing this, Flynn?"

He heard the snipping pause. It made his shoulders spike anxiously.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asked, his voice never wavering for even a second. He would've seemed unaffected by the question if his snipping hadn't gotten slower. More hesitant.

Varian struggled, his face burning up immediately because he did not mean to ask that question out loud. He hesitated before forcing the words out, "I just—I-I don't get it. I'm a criminal."

He didn't give any context to his words, but Eugene understood immediately.

"You're working on it."

Varian blinked. But that didn't make any sense. That wasn't an answer.

"I worked for a cult literally less than a day ago." He said helplessly, trying to make sense of the conversation but feeling completely lost.

"Uh huh." Was all Eugene said.

He tried again, "I tried to kill your girlfriend a year ago. I tried to kill her family and her friends too."

"Yup." Eugene hummed.

Varian's breath hitched, his voice coming out strained and desperate, "I don't get why you and the princess have been so forgiving. Even after everything I've done. Why?"

It took Eugene a long time to think of a response as he continued cutting his hair. Eventually, he said in a simpleminded tone, "Because you're trying to change, and change is good."

"I've attempted regicide."

"Okay, so not your best moment," Eugene admitted sheepishly, his lighthearted tone feeling out of place and awkward with how tense the air was. He frowned when he realized just how worked up Varian was getting over this.

Instead, his voice softened into something a little more serious, "And I'm not going to excuse that. That's a messed up thing you did, and honestly, most people would've gotten hanged for it."

Varian swallowed thickly, the thought rooted in the back of his head like a weed he couldn't pull out.

"But you got to remember that I've been a criminal for nearly my entire life," Eugene reasoned, "And I know a thing or two about it. What you did wasn't good, but... I can understand why you did it, in a way. The law is stupid, the King can be stupid, and life can be a pain in the ass. I can look at the bigger picture and see why you did what you did, but I won't act like it's right."

Nodding slowly as the words sunk in, Varian stared at his goggles again, keeping his jaw tight and his mouth closed. Sometimes he had to remind himself that Eugene wasn't exactly his enemy—in fact, Flynn Ryder had been on the same page he was. People like them were criminals who thought that outsmarting the law would get them anywhere in life.

Clearly, it didn't.

He perked up when Eugene cleared his throat, "Listen, kid. When I was your age, I was in a similar situation. Considered a felon in multiple kingdoms, a mastermind thief who was good at what he did, doing the whole independence thing, you get it. I thought I really had my whole life together, you know? I didn't need to listen to rules, or laws, or kings, or parents. I had nobody to tell me what to do or what to be."

He chuckled, almost bitterly, an odd emotion radiating from him, "Really, I was just a kid who didn't know what he was doing. I had no actual family, no home, nothing going for me. Thought I was sneaky and tough and grown up, when in reality, I was just a kid starving on the streets."

Oh.

Varian's heart suddenly ached, because he understood. Maybe in a different way, but he could relate to feeling unwanted.

"So... I get it. In a way." Eugene explained, "I know what it's like to go down a path that feels like the only option. The only way to live. The only way to survive."

Survive, Varian repeated in his head. That seemed fitting.

"But we don't need to survive. You don't need to survive. You just have to figure out how to live."

Live, the words echoed in his mind, what did live mean? How does someone live after surviving for so long?

"How do I figure that out?" He asked, a part of him afraid of the answer he was going to receive.

Eugene paused for a long time. Eventually, he said, "I don't really have an answer for that, 'cause I'm still trying to figure it out too, but I will say that I'm kind of getting the hang it. It's hard, it might always be hard, but it gets easier with support."

Varian nodded slowly again, struggling to find a fitting response. Support was finally on the table, after having a horrid lack of it for so long, and it kind of scared him. How would he get support from people he hurt in the past? People who hurt him?

By trying, his conscience reasoned, You can't change if you don't give yourself the chance.

So he decided to leave it at that.

"Okay. Okay, that makes sense," he agreed after a long moment, "I think."

He smiled faintly when Eugene shrugged, "Listen, bud. I'm not a natural poet like Rapunzel. Don't take my word for it, just trust the message."

The alchemist hummed quietly in response, and the two of them fell back into silence that was a little less tense.

For the first time in a long time, Varian told himself to just sit and calm down and stop thinking so much. He forced the tension out of his shoulders and closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the snipping that cut through the silence.

After a few seconds, it genuinly started to ease something deep within his body that felt out of reach. Something that hadn't settled in a long time.

After finishing with the back, Eugene stepped forward and began trimming the ends of his bangs. Varian let him, his eyes kept closed and his thumbs fiddling unconsciously.

He zoned out through the entire process, taking the chance to mentally rest by blanking out. He didn't mind that his guard was completely down—he had a gut instinct that Eugene wouldn't hurt him, even if the alarms in his head said otherwise, so he just sat and focused on his breathing.

It was kind of peaceful, actually.

Eventually, a voice cracked through his thoughts, interrupting the silence, "Alright, how about that?"

Varian opened his eyes to see Eugene dusting his hands off his vest and reaching for something on the stool next to him. He brought a small mirror up to the alchemist's face.

The first thing that Varian noticed wasn't his hair. It was how deeply exhausted he looked.

Maybe a little less so, now that his hair had been cut; Eugene wasn't kidding when he said he was a talented barber. He definitely looked like less of a corpse, but with his hair finally out of his eyes, his exhaustion was now on full display for everyone to see, showing the world just how sick he looked.

He couldn't ignore the deep purple eye bags under his eyes, the redness around his eyelids, the thinness of his cheekbones, how pale he was, how dim his eyes looked.

He grimaced at his reflection and turned the mirror down with a shaking hand. "Thanks, Flynn. I appreciate it," he cringed, his voice slightly wobbling, but it wasn't acknowledged. Eugene gave him a deep look before tossing the mirror aside.

"No problem," he hummed as he ruffled his hair, "We'll... clean this up later. Probably. But right now, I think we have some business in the kitchen to attend to."

Varian winced—just a little bit. Even the mere mention of the kitchen had his heart spiking anxiously. The thought of food scraping the back of his throat and brutally assaulting his already messed up taste buds was not pleasant.

Even worse? Eugene was implying that they'd have to walk around the castle to get there. Varian did not want to be seen around the castle. He didn't want to be seen anywhere, really.

"Is there... anyone in there?" He asked slowly, hating the way his voice wavered. He didn't want to sound nervous or frail when he wasn't—Andrew hated when he was nervous—but he couldn't control it.

"At this hour? Nah," Eugene waved a hand dismissively, "Everyone in Corona's probably either helping out in the town square or already in bed. I wouldn't put it behind them, it's been a long day."

"Right..." The alchemist trailed off, his gaze flicking to the door of the room uncertainly.

He rarely ate, that probably wasn't a secret, given how sunken in his cheeks were and how skinny he'd become over the past year. The only thing Varian could recall consuming in the last few days was maybe a few sips of water and an apple or two, but even then, that made him want to hurl.

Generally, food wasn't a pleasant thought. It brought memories he didn't want to think about. Feelings he didn't want to feel.

"Do we have to go?" He asked, trying to control the wobbling in his voice. Eugene turned to him and looked deep into his eyes—Varian hated when he did that—with a small frown.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" He asked simply, but it was more like an accusation.

Varian winced. Ah. He should've expected to hear that again.

Even after breaking out of prison with Andrew and the other Saporians, even after having the chance to get his body properly working again, Varian still had issues regarding his health. His body was fighting to survive constantly, but he never addressed or tried to fix every problem because he'd been too afraid to.

He didn't have a confident answer to give Fitzherbert, so he kept his eyes down and his mouth shut.

Taking the silence as his response, Eugene sighed deeply, scratching the back of his neck, "That's what I mean. You don't gotta eat a whole horse or whatever the kids say nowadays, just... try and stomach something."

Varian would've protested if he had the energy, would've made some half hearted excuse to avoid it, would've gaslit Eugene into thinking he was crazy, but he didn't say anything in the end.

He silently stood, and Eugene shot him a hopeful smile before gesturing for him to follow. Varian did so without any protest.

——

The kitchen was large—so large, in fact, that it made Varian feel like a speck of sand on a beach.

The alchemist's eyes were glued to the counter in front of him with a hollow stare. His hands gripped the sides of the stool he sat on, his thumbs grazing the indents of the wood slowly as he tried to ground himself.

He perked up when Eugene appeared in his line of vision from the large pantry, holding a loaf of bread and a glass of water. He slid them over to him with little words being exchanged.

Varian appreciated that. He was exhausted down to the bone, and running his mouth would be something he'd be bound to regret. Saying too much would reveal a side of him that he wanted to keep locked away.

As Eugene took a seat next to him at the counter, the man glanced at him like there were questions brewing on the tip of his tongue. Luckily, he didn't say anything, and that was relieving. Varian wasn't sure if he wanted to give him answers.

The alchemist's gaze followed the loaf of bread that Eugene had given him. He stared at it for a lot longer than necessary.

The bread looked soft—much softer than the bricks of food they fed the prisoners in jail. It unsettled him to a degree he didn't like. It looked too spongey, too doughy, too unfamiliar, too much.

"You just gonna stare at it, or...?"

His eyes hesitantly flicked to Eugene, who was looking at him with a blank expression, but his eyes held something deeper. Something Varian couldn't put his finger on.

The alchemist stared at him skeptically, studying his body language with a tight frown. That was one thing he never quite liked about Eugene—how he was so hard to read sometimes. Maybe it was a criminal thing, but the man always seemed like an open book, when in reality, he just wasn't.

Varian could never tell what he was thinking, and it frustrated him greatly. But then again, he wasn't an expert at emotions in general. He couldn't wrap his head around his own most days.

"You're looking lightheaded, hairstripe."

Varian blinked out of his thoughts and focused back on the bread. He swallowed roughly, feeling a little called out, "M'fine. Just—just not hungry. Yeah."

His voice came out scratchy and wobbling, uncertain and nervous. He mentally punched himself for it—Andrew hated when he did that. Hated when he stuttered, hated when he hesitated, hated when he couldn't tell a lie to save face. He said that a threat couldn't be feared across the Seven Kingdoms if it couldn't even hold a proper sentence.

Andrew would tell him that if he couldn't speak up, couldn't stop stuttering, couldn't be more confident, then it was better if he didn't speak at all.

At the time, Varian appreciated the advice. Andrew was always looking out for him, always helping him out, always letting him know what to do better and what to stop doing completely.

Now, though? It wasn't advice Andrew had given him. It was a warning.

"Have a crack at it anyways." Eugene said, snapping Varian out of his long train of thoughts once more, "Easier said than done, I'm sure, but better to get it over with now than fighting it later."

Varian looked at him for a long time, his eyes searching for something that probably wasn't there to begin with.

Eugene was... surprisingly insightful, and it was shocking to realize that. For someone who rarely took things seriously, he knew much more than he let on. He'd said that he wasn't good with words, but it was quite the opposite. The man knew what to say in situations like these—when the air was tense, when the silence was loud, and when nerves spiked.

It unnerved Varian, to be in the presence of someone who could read him better than most people, but it also made him feel a little more sane.

After realizing that he was zoning out again, Varian turned back to the loaf of bread and inhaled sharply before reaching for it. It felt thick underneath his fingertips as he picked it up and brought it closer to him.

He looked it over for a lot longer than necessary, a habit of his that he picked up from prison. He searched for anything unusual, or rather an excuse not to eat it. Ang signs of dirt, any mold, and bugs, anything. Nothing looked too off, but something felt off, and he couldn't help but feel wary.

He glanced back to Eugene, who was not looking at him in turn. Thank god. The lack of an audience made this a little more bearable.

Hesitantly, with upmost care, he ripped off a chunk of the loaf and slowly took a bite of it.

Immediately, a shiver coerced through his bones at the sheer motion of chewing. It made his stomach twist into such a knot that he felt like throwing up.

Setting the bread back down much too quickly, Varian tried not to focus on how the world spun around him, tried not to focus on how nauseous he felt, tried not to focus on the wobbling in his hands. It kind of felt like taking a punch to the gut, but he managed to swallow it down without passing out.

The entire process was uncomfortable to say the least, and he would've much rather not have bothered, but he hated that he could feel Eugene's eyes now fixed on him carefully.

Blast it.

"Was the bread too much?"

Varian tore his eyes away from the table and focused them on Eugene, who looked at him softly with a far away look in his eyes.

Blast it.

"... I don't know," he admitted, the words unnatural on his tongue, "It's just... it's been a while since I've had bread. I just can't, uhm—I can't stomach it. Sorry."

"That makes sense," the man hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "Maybe bread is too thick for you," He thought aloud, "Soup would probably be better. It's thin, easier to get down, and pretty good for you too. Maybe we should try that next time."

Varian stared at him for a long, long time.

"... Sure." He said eventually, because he didn't know what else he could say.

The two sat there in silence for a long while.

Too long, in fact, that Varian was starting to get antsy. Exhaustion clawed at his body, anxiety tore through his stomach, and nausea had a death grip on his head. He wasn't going to pass out (at least not yet) but it certainly felt like he might.

Instead, he focused on the man next to him. He could see Eugene gently humming under his breath, filling the tense silence as he drummed his fingers against the table rhythmically.

Varian observed him for a long time. Honestly, if he had to be honest, he was grateful that it was Fitzherbert out of all people who had to look after him. Even though he didn't completely trust him, and he wasn't sure he ever would, he was relieved that he was being patient. He was glad that he was willing to understand.

Varian wasn't as familiar with kindness as he used to be. He wasn't used to people understanding his point of view. Andrew had been the last person he let himself trust, and all he gained out of that was fear, anxiety, exhaustion, and a lot of whip scars.

Trusting people only ever disappointed him in the end. After a while, he didn't know why he kept trying. If every person was the same, if every person was untrustworthy, if every person was a threat, then why would he change? There was no one to change for. It never mattered in the end.

But Rapunzel had offered to see past everything that made him broken beyond repair. And in turn, once he wasn't deemed an active threat, Eugene had given him that chance too.

More than that, he'd given him advice. Comfort. Kindness.

A part of Varian was beating himself in the head for once again being an idiot. This was a pattern for him—He'd let himself trust someone, he'd pour everything he could into pleasing them, they'd let him down, and then they'd backstab him right in the gut. If he was going to lean onto someone again, he was only setting himself up for pain.

And yet, the other part of him could feel something new in his veins. Something promising. Something real.

This was the start of a new chapter, and he could only continue on with the story if he pushed his fear aside. He could only rewrite every wrong if he started at the beginning—by letting himself trust someone again, even if he had the chance of getting hurt. Even if he had the chance of being wronged. Even if it was terrifying.

Broken people could not be changed, he had been so used to telling himself, but Rapunzel had proved him wrong. Eugene had proved him wrong, simply by existing, because they were similar in many different ways.

And that meant that maybe Varian could prove himself wrong, too.

Before he could stop himself, the words were already being said, "Thanks, Eugene."

Thank you for what, exactly? He didn't even really know, but he was thankful nonetheless.

A tense part of him relaxed at the warm chuckle that cut through the silence next to him. He turned to see Eugene grinning at him—something genuine, confused, but appreciative.

"Hey, look at that," he teased, something playful reflecting in his eyes, "You finally called me by my name."

Oh. He hadn't even realized.

Varian gave him an unimpressed stare, but he couldn't ignore the bright feeling that pooled through his chest. Eugene sensed how truthful he was genuinely being and softened a little bit, "It's no problem, kid. Don't gotta thank me for anything."

He reached out and ruffled the alchemist's hair—a reoccurring interaction between them nowadays. Varian stiffened under his touch but allowed it with a weak grin. That would probably become a ritual of theirs that he'd just have to get used to.

Then again, there was a lot of things he had to get used to, given that this was his life now.

"When are you gonna start using my name?" He asked mindlessly, just to fill in the silence. "You just call me a kid all the time."

Eugene raised an eyebrow, seemingly stumped by the question. "I'll probably call you by your name when you grow up a bit," he said after a moment, "You are still just a kid, you know? I feel like you and a lot of people forget that sometimes. I feel like I forget that sometimes."

That made Varian's expression soften. He turned back to the counter and traced the wood with his index finger once more, his eyes following the indents and crevices.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice quiet and small. As Rapunzel said it—he was a kid who went through something that would change the way he thought, felt, and lived for the rest of his life.

He'd seen the horrors, the pain, and the grief that the world could unleash on one, unstable mind. And he wasn't even a legal adult yet.

It wasn't a new thought for Varian to have—if he hadn't messed with the rocks in the first place, what would be different? If he hadn't singlehandedly encased his dad in the amber, how would he be living? What would he be doing? Who would he be?

What would he be?

He wasn't sure, but there was no point in thinking about the what ifs. They were only loopholes he was bound to get swept up in, like a whirlpool of never ending thoughts.

He just had to focus on the present. And honestly, that was fine.

Because support was right in front of him. He just had to learn to let himself accept it.