#eugene rapunzel

[onceupona-crossover]

a romantic moodboard of Kristoff (Frozen) and Flynn Rider (Tangled) with a blue theme, with pictures of ice, lutes, forests, male same sex photos, reindeers, adventure, outsmarting people, white horses (like maximus)

Requested by:anon

- Mod rapunzel

[ladyfawkes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

TJBEA written by LadyFawkes Chapter 5: Fitzherberty Healing Secrets Current word count: 14630

Chapter 5 Summary: Rapunzel is finally introduced to the main architect of the couple's rescue -- one very persistent and elusive palace horse!! Long-repressed dark memories from her time with Gothel resurface unbidden, and Eugene must figure out how best to drag her from that abyss. He might just need to dig a little deeper for himself in the process.

CW: Childhood punishment torture/abuse CW: Childhood neglect; dehydration CW: Fear tactics using fire, deprivation of protective footwear CW: References of asphyxiation by near-drowning torture CW: Gaslighting These things are merely touched upon, neither detailed nor glorified. In this chapter, they refer to Gothel's past behavior over the years with Rapunzel.

As they continued to make their way through the manky and dusty cobwebs, Rapunzel paid no heed to their environment. Eugene, however, finally felt a distinct unease for the first time, since, well….since just before Gothel had stabbed him.

He could not bide by it...and found himself readying the cast iron fry pan in a defensive posture as they wound their way down the indoor tower spiral. The skeevy feeling caused Eugene to whirl around behind him, since he certainly felt as if they were being watched. And he hadn’t remained a successful career thief as long as he had by ignoring his instincts.

“We’ll talk more in detail once we get outta here,” Eugene ushered Rapunzel to go faster. Rather than question him, she followed his lead until they were out of the spiral staircase chamber, out of the chamber door (closing it behind them) and finally on the opposite side of the base of the tower in the bright cheerful sunlight. He had begun feeling better immediately.

Now with the couple’s clothing shown in stark relief, they could both better see the remaining evidence they carried of the aftermath concerning what had taken place within the past hour. Eugene’s clothing -- and even Rapunzel’s -- were covered in patches and smears of dried blood. It was less noticeable on Rapunzel’s pink and purple dress….but patches of her partial handprints were left behind nonetheless. And neither Eugene nor Rapunzel had realized until then that Gothel had managed to run Eugene clean through….for there was evidence of an exit wound that neither Rapunzel nor Eugene had seen. On the back of Eugene’s doublet and his trousers was another smaller dried stream and more patches of blood...leading from another separate jagged crimson tear through the back of his shirt and doublet.

Before either Rapunzel, Eugene, or Pascal could say much of anything, Maximus, who had been drinking at the spring, turned around and cantered up to them.

Rapunzel’s jaw dropped as she demanded of Eugene, “Don’t tell me Maximus is the one who helped you escape!?” And Eugene self-consciously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and grinned in spite of himself. “He’s the main one, yeah.”

And the closer Max got to them, the more alarmed the horse became. Before long, he was snuffling around the bloodstains on Rapunzel….and at last figuring she was all right, went over to Eugene. The couple tried to explain that even Eugene was okay now too. However, the adamant horse would not stop nudging and pestering Eugene until Rapunzel was compelled to take the frying pan from Eugene’s hands before he accidentally dropped it and Maximus had effectively made the young man strip to the waist for his personal equine inspection in spite of all the vehement protesting.

“Why Max, I never knew you cared,” Eugene jabbed at him playfully, a wan smirk on his face as he folded his arms over his toned bare chest. The horse gave him a withering death-glare and continued to circle Eugene, nonetheless scrutinizing him even more closely. Rapunzel quipped, “He’s just making sure he didn’t go to all the trouble of rescuing you for nothing.”

“You’re not ‘nothing’, though,” Eugene protested. “Oh….really?" Rapunzel replied pleasantly. "So what am I, then?” Rapunzel flirted, her eyelashes batting up at him. Eugene slowly drew in lungfuls of air before rapidly exhaling, “Only…. everything,” he finished with breathless sincerity. And the princess blushed in the sunlight as Eugene stood closer to her, lacing their fingers together. She felt a heady rush as the scent of Eugene’s sun-kissed bare skin tickled her everywhere from the inside out.

You can finish the chapter on AO3!!

[greenleaf777]

Someone tell me the Rapunzels Tangled Adventure season 3 schedule? Are they airing every day? There have been 3 so far right?

[ladyfawkes]

Eugene Appreciation Week | Day 6: Protect and Sacrifice

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Desiderium by @Ladyfawkes and @trekkiehood

Current Chapter 10: Never Surrender

Current word count: 18868

Rated T for graphic descriptions of violence, physical torment, events during a POW setting

Chapter Summary: For the first time since being attacked and abducted, Eugene wakes up.

Chapter 10: Never Surrender

The first time Eugene awoke, he had been turned on his side. Someone had placed the tapered part of a large syringe in his mouth. He gagged on the warm stream of saltwater being actively injected and immediately began vomiting, which in turn yanked and pulled and twisted up all of the severed and injured muscles and tissues just below and to the right of his stomach. It felt as if his guts were on fire and actively trying to push themselves out of the wounds that cursed sword had given him. He tried to bring his arms down to fold them around his wound in front but he’d found his wrists were tightly bound with ropes instead.

“It huuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrts,” he howled mournfully, in earshot of whomever was near. Or at least he would’ve howled, had his cry not cut out halfway through. Only then did he realize how stupid he was to have used his voice. Instantly, he became so drained he started shaking. For he not only unwittingly revealed this weakness to his enemy, the action induced Eugene to use the most injured, raw parts of himself. His reaction, however, had at least been visceral, instinctive, and utterly involuntary; he had no control over it. However, if Eugene thought he’d felt nausea and pain before, that was almost nothing compared to how he’d felt in the here and now.

After Eugene had fallen unconscious, he’d clearly and repeatedly aspirated what little stomach contents he possessed into his lungs and sinuses. A pained groan escaped him regardless; His raw throat and sinuses pulsed with a dull throb in the back of his head every time he tried drawing a breath.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to help,” said a tiny voice beside him. “Sometimes, though, it’s gotta get worse before it can feel better,” continued the voice. Gradually, Eugene’s top half was raised at an angle. The old cloth beneath him soaked with blood and vomit was removed and replaced; the fresh one was folded over several times and placed underneath his nose, mouth, chin, and neck. He was still on his side but was given a bolster to put under his ear and top half of his head as further support at this new elevated angle. His shaking slowed slightly. However, in the back of his mind, Eugene still recalled how precarious was his position. Therefore he could not bring himself to trust this mystery medical person. The captain was still bound at the wrists and ankles, after all. He assumed his boots were long gone. There was no way they’d leave footwear accessible for a prisoner -- especially not one they’d have no intention of ever releasing.

Rather than finding any comfort in what had just been said or done by this funny-voiced person, Eugene stiffened as the syringe wielder injected even more saltwater into each nostril. Though Eugene still choked, coughed, and gagged very violently, the entry-and-exit wounds through his midsection were simultaneously given moderate compression from either side until he’d cleared out the last of the salt water. The compression action alone had diminished his pain, nausea, and the nasty sensation that his guts were spilling out by about 30%. And he didn’t throw up again either. For the time being.

“I would cut your bindings, as they’re so useless and even cumbersome,” mumbled the voice, “but Regis would have us both hanged immediately….” Though Eugene struggled valiantly and tried to become an active information-gatherer like his training demanded, nothing proved to him that he was too far out of his element more than the traumas of this particular interaction. Even his own weakness shocked him. Though the name “Regis” had instantaneously provoked distinct emotions from within.

The mystery person again mopped up Eugene’s face from the deluge of saltwater. “I know that was awful,” commiserated the individual, “but I’m betting your throat and sinuses are no longer killing you. That it’s much less painful to breathe, at least from your neck up?”

Eugene said nothing….and only scowled until he did gingerly test breathing…. and it was indeed far easier and less painful now that the aspirated stomach acid had been cleared away. Buuuuuut he had this permanent stitch now, this ache below his right lung….Eugene seriously wondered whether he would ever breathe deeply again.

“Well, that’s all right, playin’ possum,” said the voice. Can’t say as I blame you, nosiree, captain in the enemy camp and all….” and the person bustled about, chattering aloud to Eugene but mostly to himself. “Oh, and my name is Clarence, my designation here is ‘apothecary’, although my duties compass a great deal more.” Was it just Eugene, or did ‘Clarence’ sound a little bitter? Could this be a rift Eugene could press to his advantage? “This possum skill is good,” the Clarence person rejoined, “because the more ill and unconscious you are, the more put-off Regis will be…..I know since he already walked away once due to being so disgusted by the state of you. You were supposed to have been brought whole and unharmed….and Javeen, Regis’s 2nd, truly learned to regret his actions.”

Eugene’s shivering persisted and worsened although it was clearly a warm day outside. He had no earthly idea how much time had passed since he was first abducted nor how long it had been that he’d worn anything from the waist up due to being stripped down by...Javeen, was it? He guesstimated it had been at least two days since he’d eaten or drank anything...but it felt more like 6 or 7 days because of his injuries. As an orphan, Eugene knew well the ravages of starvation. He’d faced it many times as a child and youth and young adult. And this was….not like that. At all. It was infinitely worse.

Though this small apothecary minding Eugene clearly couldn’t match him in size, he removed and shared his tunic nonetheless. Or at least he attempted to share. “I’ve got on several layers,” mumbled the little man….

“Curse it,” the apothecary finished, as he realized Eugene couldn’t possibly be dressed in normal clothing while still bound at the wrists. And a few seconds later, very abruptly, Eugene’s wrists were blissfully cut free of the ropes that had bound him.

In another wholly involuntary action, Eugene automatically turned from his side to his back, his arms fully separating so his chest could expand and he could breathe in the air his oxygen-deprived body so desperately needed.

The apothecary seemed to have anticipated his needs and again gave Eugene compression so as to minimize the sensation his guts were falling out as he greedily sucked in more and more shuddering lungfuls of air. “Oh deary dear, no wonder that was so difficult for you,” the little apothecary fretted. “Broad chests and large arms do not do well for one’s lung capacity when they’re all mashed together. I can’t imagine Adonais himself could handle his wrists being bound in such a way….”

Breathing in as if it were going out of style was exquisitely painful but this pain was also infinitely worth it. Then Eugene coughed and….it was chunky style, i.e. some of the leftover goodies the syringe hadn’t been able to remove earlier. He turned his head to the side and spat it out. “Good!” said the apothecary. “That’s even better than you getting more air. We need you to cough up all of that junk. And breathe as deep as you can, at all times, even when it hurts.”

Unexpectedly Clarence seized Eugene’s hand and placed it around the cushion he’d been using. “Anytime you need to sneeze, cough, or what-have-you, press the cushion against your midsection. It will help a little. Regis’ll just have to hang me then, he can’t very well have me heal you if you’re gonna go off and die of aspiration pneumonia, nosiree…..”

Heal me in order to hurt me, ugh, thought Eugene. Talk about mixed signals. Now that he was laying on his back, Eugene’s head near the base of his skull started throbbing with the renewed pressure. In spite of himself, Eugene reached up with his left hand and felt the back of his scalp.

Clarence continued bustling about. It was registering through Eugene’s pain-haze that this is the same apothecary that had just given him full use of his hands. Even handed him a projectile. Maybe this guy isn’t what he seems? Eugene considered. Nope. NO. Don’t get lulled by a false sense of security. Considering his wounds and the fact his ankles were still bound, Eugene was basically still immobile anyway, even with full use of his hands and arms. Well, almost full use. If he moved his right arm in a certain way, it tugged all the way down to his worst wound and made him see twinkly pain stars in front of his vision. He determined to keep that arm closer toward him at all times to avoid triggering that horrible lightning twinge. And this meant he couldn’t reach down far enough to slip the ropes off his ankles even if he’d tried. Eugene realized the physician knew exactly what he was talking about by deeming the binds “useless”. His prisoner was going nowhere and this little man knew it.

The physician (Eugene had already substituted ‘apothecary’ in his mind) took note of Eugene’s movements. “Ah yes, I see you’ve discovered the other little 'present' Javeen and his men left for you: that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. I advise against making any more sudden movements? I’d hate to see you vomit again.” Fanfriggentastic. Here was yet another thing that explained to Eugene why he was in such rough shape….Javeen’s men had brained him earlier. Although he couldn’t recall when it happened along with why he’d felt so beat-up and bruised all over, everywhere….those things were still a mystery to him.

The physician did his best to dress Eugene in the too-small tunic of his. Again, he apologized -- APOLOGIZED!! -- for it having been all he’d had on-hand. Ill-fitting though it was, Eugene had finally stopped shivering. Once again, Eugene found second thoughts about this strange little man creeping into his consciousness. Next, the physician had grabbed what looked like a Coronian saddle blanket and draped it around Eugene’s shoulders, offering another layer of warmth. It finally caught up to him regarding what that meant; the physician had handily kept him from slipping fully into shock.

He’d also made dang sure that Eugene could breathe as well as could be expected…..by cutting his binds….and whatever that syringe debacle was…..although the process itself was nightmare-ish, it couldn't be denied that everything had worked as intended. Sometimes things have to get worse before they can feel better. Not to mention the man had gone out of his way to ease Eugene’s pain with that cushion compression trick. Already Clarence had engaged in at least two things that were probably directly against protocol by doing just a tiny bit more than the bare minimum.

Clarence steepled his hands and considered Eugene’s positioning. “I’m gonna need better access to that wound on your back,” he said. “Don’t use any of your own power to help me turn you; I’ll do all of the work. Is that clear?”

Eugene shrank a little at such intense scrutiny paired with the direct order….yet said nothing. It was the most demanding Clarence had been thus far. The apothecary sighed shortly, clearly not taking silence for an answer this time.

“I mean it, Mr. Tough Guy. This is one instance where you must be like a living ragdoll and let me do all the rest. Do you think you can handle that?” Clarence paused briefly, appearing to consider something. Eugene simply stared at him. “You can communicate by whispering. Actual whispering, not sotto voce style. It requires far less lung capacity and is unlikely to cause much pain. I say again, do you think you can trust me? Because if you try to ‘help’ even a little, you could cause those wounds to push outside what’s meant to remain inside.”

“Yes,” Eugene whispered without hesitation. He didn’t know exactly what it was about this interesting apothecary that elicited his trust. And then it occurred to him as Clarence very slowly turned his patient's legs to his left side, encouraging Eugene to breathe through the pain: Clarence cares.

Not to mention….Clarence was right; whispering barely hurt Eugene at all….in complete opposition to when he’d shouted earlier upon first waking.

When Clarence went to turn Eugene from right to left by grabbing his right arm, however, they ran into a semi-unexpected snag. This arm, it appeared, could not be pulled...lest it trigger that nasty stitch Eugene had experienced earlier. So the apothecary took the saddle blanket and refashioned it into a type of jacket-sling so Eugene’s right arm was held secure against his chest; now his patient didn’t have to worry about his right arm being at the mercy of whatever gravity felt like doing with it.

With his free arm, Eugene lightly held the cushion against his gut. Then Clarence managed to carefully and successfully roll Eugene’s upper half onto his left side without any additional complications. Eugene was allowed to rest after all the additional activity. His side without the wounds was naturally far more stable and for the first time since awakening, the mere act of breathing didn’t make him wanna pass out from too much pain. Although it was still comparably arduous and taxing by trying to breathe deeply as instructed. The last time Eugene could recall feeling this helpless was when he had a nasty case of typhus around age 5 or 6 that had nearly killed him.

“Right now, I’m preparing an anesthetic for that wound in your back,” murmured Clarence. The apothecary was using medical terms that until that point in time for which Eugene had had very little use. It made Eugene wish he’d read and paid more attention like Rapunzel.

And mentally conjuring his beloved sweetheart so easily within such a natural context suddenly sent unbidden shockwaves of loneliness, hopelessness, and despair crashing through him. Regis would never release him and Eugene knew it. He’d gone to far too much trouble convincing others that Eugene no longer existed amongst the living. Past the end of his needfulness for this prisoner, the mad king might eventually attempt to use Eugene as bait at a later date. But until then, Eugene was still being secretly held here, wherever ‘here’ was...which had to mean that it was becoming more likely with each passing hour that Javeen’s decoy ruse had worked. That whatever was left after the fire the enemy troops had started, and after Corona’s soldiers watched their own captain get struck down, it was practically a given that nobody from his kingdom was out searching for Eugene right now.

In spite of himself, the back of his still-raw sinuses welled up and started dripping with these instant pent up emotions. He sniffled softly at first but when Eugene pictured himself back in the nursery, rocking Kleisonne and singing their special song….considering that Rapunzel has to sing it now….it was more than he could take. It had already been over two months since the last time he had left them to take up arms at New Old Corona and even though he could see Corona Island from the top of the mountain pass, as captain, Eugene felt as if he might as well have been a million miles away. With so few fighting men, with so few soldiers who’d actually experienced prior sustained combat much less led through it, such inexperienced leadership, and only a rather ancient stockpile of weaponry….(Corona had been at peace for hundreds of years, after all...) Eugene simply could not leave his station under any circumstances….not even to see his family. The kingdom’s needs had been too great….still are too great. Had his father’s battalions arrived yet from the Dark Kingdom? Probably not. Eugene had a feeling he’d be hearing all about it from the apothecary, chatty as he was. But then….but then -- one shining light of realization cut through the pain haze and fear fog….piercing its way through his overwrought mind and body. Rapunzel was actually queen now and thus not at the mercy and whims of what others thought or felt anymore. Not really. And Eugene could sense with absolute certainty that Rapunzel would not rest until she had found identifiable remains by means of incontrovertible proof. And once they found the only clue Eugene had managed to leave behind, Rapunzel’s resolve in finding him would become dang near indestructible. He’d just have to try and find a way to escape -- or more practically, considering his woeful state of being, somehow get word out ASAP so that Corona would still be performing a rescue, not a recovery.

Eugene hissed rather loudly at the sudden harsh stinging sensation emanating from around the wound in his back. The sharp intake of breath had in turn disturbed everything else within Eugene’s predicament. “My apologies,” Clarence spoke out, “I’m usually accustomed to patients who are already unconscious by the time I get to them,” he explained with a hint of nervousness.

Aaaand he’s apologizing again. For unintentionally hurting me. Truly this guy was proving over and over he really wasn’t Regis’s mad scientist henchman. After Clarence was finished with the stinging stuff, he grabbed some type of salve that Eugene was sure he already knew pretty well. Tallow, the same stuff used as a base for candles, also made a great healing and moisturization agent. It sealed the wound away from everything else including dirt and further abrasions.

It was basically how Eugene had avoided having too many scars for so many years, and the one main reason why he appeared completely unscathed, despite all of the bar fights he had been swept up in, and the smaller now invisible wounds he’s had. Although he currently rolled his eyes at his own past vanity by trying to achieve physical perfection with flawless skin. Eugene was certainly gonna have some gnarly scars after this….provided he lived long enough to actually heal from his open wounds and captivity….Eugene inwardly admonished himself to stop thinking morbidly. And to instead be grateful for Clarence and his incomprehensible kindness in such a morbid setting. And if Eugene weren’t already laying down, he would’ve been bowled over by what the apothecary did next. Clarence not only carefully cleaned and applied tallow to every inch of the abrasions those ropes had caused, he covered the red welts on Eugene’s wrists with long knotted-off strips of floursack cloth. It was such an unexpectedly….kind thing to do, to tend to wounds caused by a prisoner’s restraints…..Eugene was momentarily taken aback….and currently lost in thought. And this is when Clarence figured he’d had as good a time as any to crank up the hallucination juice.

Somewhere behind Eugene, something that smelled vaguely of incense and oil started burning nearby and he started coughing. Clarence reminded him about the cushion trick and the coughing sensation eased off and Eugene began to feel oddly and unexpectedly relaxed. His cognitive body functions had largely gone dormant and he was floating in a soft white haze. He felt….groovy. Every once in awhile, lightning streaks of pain might interrupt his dreaming as Clarence, who was not only a good apothecary but a well trained surgeon, worked on sewing up Eugene’s wounds.

Clarence couldn’t have Eugene eat or drink anything prior to surgery so that effectively eliminated anything taken by mouth when it came to easing his patient’s pain at this time. So the apothecary took the one safest route left to him; the psychoactive one. The main problem was that psychoactives didn’t technically knock you out….at least not the ones of which he was in possession.

The surgeon was distinctly worried that even if Eugene had tried to ingest any medicine or even water, it very well would have triggered pain so agonizingly distressful that he wouldn’t be able to stop screaming once it got started. Based on the prior blood and reflux content he’d seen so far, (as well as how his patient had reacted during his first few seconds upon waking) Clarence strongly suspected part of Eugene’s problem was a nasty duodenal tear and that meant high-intensity stomach acid was busy slowly seeping itself out everywhere it wasn’t intended to be, both inside and outside of his patient. Unneutralized stomach acid pouring itself into one’s abdominal cavity was indeed Not Good at All, especially since that includes everything else that regularly accompanies stomach acid. Clarence's plan was to be as hands-off as possible. He'd witnessed far too many patients die of resulting infection directly caused by a surgeon's brash (and yes, stupid) tendency to just dig around in open wounds. Clarence still didn't know if his patient needed to be sewn up all the way or if drainage sites needed to be packed as he healed.

All things considered, this “enemy” captain shouldn’t even be conscious. Eugene had to be practically dying of thirst and yet he wasn’t complaining. Here he was, on this makeshift exam/surgery platform, high as a kite, tripping aloud about fluffy purple bunnies wearing watermelon hats. Or was it purple watermelons wearing pink bunny hats? Whatever that meant, thought Clarence, with some amusement.

Clarence seemed to have an internal immunity against the “incense oil” he was burning for his patient’s sake. He was both annoyed and grateful for said immunity. He also fervently hoped this patient would stay distracted long enough with pleasant hallucinations in order for Clarence to do what he needed. It wasn’t like him to operate on a patient without explaining everything thoroughly, but he was hoping against hope that by subtracting another layer of self-awareness, it might somehow help Eugene stay distracted even longer. Besides, you can’t rightly swallow much of anything when it’s just going to…..leak back out such a nasty hole in your vital organs. Above all else, the young captain needed that tear repaired as quickly as possible.

Real things about world history discovers/innovations: When 'syringe' is mentioned here, it's not like a hypodermic needle or even an oral medication syringe. The size of syringes in the 18th century were more the size range of a can of spray deodorant on up to a large can of hair spray.

“Okay, Captain Fitz-Humpty-Dumpty, let’s try and put you back together again, shall we?” murmured the surgeon to himself, as he took one last glance at his overstocked supply of incense oil.

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

A/N: In order to keep this an element of realism in this historical setting, you can imagine the amount of research that went into building this single chapter. Medicine was taking some monumental strides starting in 16th century (1500s) onward.

[ladyfawkes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Desiderium by Trekkiehood and LadyFawkes Current word count: 15102 Current Chapter 8 & 9: The Useful Idiots; Eugene's Lament Rated: T for graphic descriptions of violence, wartime, torture, things of a POW nature. ATTENTION/ACHTUNG/ATTENCION: THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! [Nor a repost.] DESI HAS BEEN GIVEN ITS FOOOOURTH UPDATE IN LESS THAN A WEEK. WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP! Chapter 8 (but not 9) also the first chapter in which I've flown entirely solo thus far. Doth my eyes deceive me, or does our hero make a reappearance??? Hold onto your butts, buttercups. You finally get to learn what Regis is all about. Eeeeep!!! This one's intense!! You also get to learn exactly what Eugene wrote to his dearest Rapunzel in the hour or so prior to his capture.

Overall Story Summary: Desiderium: an ardent desire or longing; especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost. Eugene and Rapunzel's lives are turned upside down when a war breaks out between Corona and Equis. As Captain of the Guard, Eugene is forced to leave his wife and daughter to fight on the front lines, where a tragic berserker attack leaves Rapunzel a widow.....or so she's been led to believe. Now prisoner to a sadistic megalomaniac, our severely injured Eugene must fight harder than he's ever fought before in order to escape dire circumstances and drag his way back to his family. With battles raging, the enemy advancing, too many fallen troops, dwindling supplies under siege, and especially absent their most trusted strategic leader, the only chance Rapunzel, Corona, and Eugene have is if the kingdom can still somehow pull off the seemingly insurmountable task of winning this forsaken war. Has dusk finally arrived for the kingdom of the sun, or will she rise victorious once more? Chapter 8 Summary: Eugene finds "help" in the most unexpected of places. (Chapter 9 summary & chapter posted beneath Chapter 8.)

Javeen’s men had concussed the enemy captain in outrage and tightly bound his wrists and ankles with ropes for transport. Naturally, nobody amongst them had consciously thought to put pressure on the enemy’s` wounds. On the contrary, most of them had gone out of their way to avoid such a thing…. Their reputation had always been annihilation of all opposition and a literal scorched earth policy. It didn’t leave much room, if any, for compassion or medical training; most of the time, it left even less room for common sense. Before dawn that day, Commander Javeen’s underling had initially volunteered to perform the honor of actually transporting the soon-to-be-captured prisoner, the captain in red. However, by this point, Avila was less than thrilled; Uhlan Avila didn’t want the loathsome enemy captain to leak his blood and other bodily fluids all over his opulent saddle. He’d spent good money on it, after all. This was an unforeseen complication for which the uhlan had definitely not volunteered. However, now….he was stuck with it. Avila sprinted over to a fallen enemy horse nearby, loosened the saddle, and reclaimed the saddle blanket, padding, and two leather straps. Taking the woolen pad and folding it over a few times, he rolled the enemy captain up inside of it with the blanket around the outside, and cinched up everything with the reclaimed leather straps. Uhlan Avila was pleased with himself for being so clever. It was that one action of vanity alone which preserved Eugene’s life to this point; as otherwise short-sighted as these bloodthirsty barbarians were, transporting the wounded -- even their own -- was not something for which they spared much thought or effort. And so Uhlan Avila threw the prepared prisoner over the withers of his horse and ultimately brought the prisoner, retching and puking, all the way back to Javeen’s encampment outside Equisian city walls. Thus the Equisian army had done the enemy commander a secondary favor by attacking before breakfast; one cannot puke out what one has not eaten. And thus we've reached our third unintended positive consequence that the uhlan mistakenly provided the enemy: Avila had rendered him virtually unconscious. It was a profoundly merciful thing, remaining staunchly unable to recall waking memory of being hauled away so inhumanely, bound and profusely bleeding, with no way to brace or prepare oneself for the relentless jarring and jouncing motions on the arduously long journey ahead. The same afternoon Queen Rapunzel of Corona received her husband’s final impassioned missive, the currently defenseless abductee Captain Eugene S. Fitzherbert, Prince Consort of Her Majesty Queen Rapunzel, was presented to His Imperial Majesty King Regis the First and Terrible of Equis. Regis preferred just the one name, as ambitious as he was, wanting to further distinguish himself from anyone else yet in the history books. Fully expectant that his captive should be brought to him on a silver platter, King Regis was royally put-out when he was instead Summoned to Javeen’s encampment due to a quote unquote “slight problem”. However, he was determined nothing would spoil his mood for that day. That day had all gone off without a hitch, apparently, every carefully laid plan thus far. As well it should, Regis congratulated himself internally. Nothing would be better than his moment of being able to gloat in the face of this unworthy thieving interloper who had taken up such a plumb station within the neighboring kingdom. Regis had heard all about Fitzherbert from his cousin before his death. What idiots Corona’s former royal couple must have been, getting duped by the likes of such a wonton common thief. King Regis vowed he would die before he let such an accursed scourge back into his palace. King Trevor had regaled Regis endlessly about his woes with Corona, King Frederic, and ultimately, the insufferable thief Fitzherbert. And Regis….well, Regis was like Trevor multiplied one-thousand-fold. While they were close to the same age, Regis had had a lifetime filled with

having the throne denied him.

His gargantuan height of 6’11” made Regis tower over most everyone around him. Though he was tall, he was also toned and muscular rather than massive; though he could yell louder than most, he also had a silver tongue. His cruelty, selfishness, and vanity knew no bounds -- nor did his taste for ostentation. Unlike Trevor, who had a very pointy pinched look, Regis was exceptionally attractive, broad-chested, and “strong as a bear”, with his close-cropped full beard and once-dark-hair turned a respectable salt-&-pepper. Yet beautiful as he was, every horrible family trait that Trevor had ever possessed -- and then some -- were magnified to abysmal new depths within Regis….which is why lately, he’d been experimenting around with giving himself titles of repute. “King Regis the Great”....no, too generic. “King Regis the Horrible,”...no. Again, too….pedestrian. “King Regis the Terrible”...? Slight improvement but still not good enough. King Regis brushed an invisible piece of lint off his shimmering blue ermine cape, readjusted his most opulent jeweled crown and sauntered through the massive tent flap that had been pulled aside in anticipation of his arrival. He strutted toward the back of the tent, where he saw his 2nd and 3rd in command, Commander Javeen and Commander Thaddeus. Thaddeus backed away at a steady pace upon seeing him, after the commander bowed, saluted, and announced his king’s arrival. Regis picked up on an undercurrent of agitation between his leading men. As he approached Javeen and a heap of old rags on the ground, he learned precisely why. It was not a pile of rags before him. Now abruptly seeing his Big Moment evaporate in front of his eyes, Regis rushed up to see who was this mystery prisoner. Surely this could not be Fitzherbert….?? He’d expected him to be a bit sick and groggy from a pre-planned hellride over horse’s withers but not….. And Regis roughly clutched at the hair of the prone individual and yanked backward on the head so he could see the hidden features. And though this prisoner’s face was filthy, it was just as Regis feared: he was indeed looking at the face that launched a thousand Wanted posters, his avowed newest enemy, thieving “Prince” Fitzherbert. The enemy prisoner showed no outward reaction to him nor anything else whatsoever. He lay still, eye closed and expressionless, his body completely inert. With fury clouding his vision, Regis tore at the saddle blanket wrapped around his prey. The blanket had all but adhered to those once-leaking wounds through Eugene’s torso. By this time, Cmdr. Thaddeus had backed away to a safe distance outside the tent. “What is the MEANING OF THIS!?!?” roared Regis, unclutching his once-intended target’s hair and crossing the tent to Javeen in less than half a second. “GRIEVOUSLY DAMAGING MY CHOSEN PREY BEFORE I CAN EVEN SEE HIM?!?! “My-My Liege,” stuttered Javeen, “I thought you’d be pleased to see him in such dire straits!” At this, even Regis was taken aback. Briefly. “To reiterate….you ‘thought I’d be PLEASED’,” Regis made mocking air-quotes, “to see the very victim I’d been planning personally to accost now for months, suddenly in a position where nothing I can do can possibly torture or make him hurt enough, the way he should be!?!” At this, Regis twitched his wrist and an impossibly sharp filigreed 12-inch-length steel stylus slipped silently out of a concealed pouch in his sleeve. Now, the king was deceptively, eerily calm, ever-so-slowly advancing on Javeen, who was inching away. “Did it ever occur to you,” Regis rapidly whip-sliced in an upward diagonal with the stylus, his impossibly-lengthy arm snaking out from him, “that I might need to play with him first?” And then he whipped the whisper-quiet blade rapidly on an opposing downward diagonal, completing an X pattern across the chest of Javeen’s tunic. His second’s eyes bugged out and he continued to back away from Regis, stumbling, clutching at and trying to press his tunic against the new fresh wounds underneath to staunch the flow. Gritting his teeth and trying desperately

not to cry out, Javeen well knew how screaming and crying to Regis would only encourage him further. “This dirty thief has information I require, you fool,” Regis whispered, with deadly calm, as he threw the stylus at the dirt and it pierced Javeen through his foot. His hapless second screamed in spite of himself and fell backward, his foot still pinned to the earth through his boot. “I pay you to kill, maim, and follow my orders to the letter,” Regis stood over him prior to leaving, “not to do my thinking for me.” After giving his original intended victim Fitzherbert one last longing glance, Mad King Regis knelt down and plucked his stylus out of the shocked man’s pinned foot as slowly and agonizingly as possible, making Javeen yell mightily again as crimson gushed out the new holes in either side of his boot.

Regis then wiped his stylus clean on Javeen’s trouser leg, and said loudly, “Cmdr. Thaddeus, Summon the surgeon or apothecary, whatever he calls himself. Tell him he has a new charge. JUST THE ONE,” he growled menacingly at Javeen, his implications crystal clear although he still addressed Cmdr Thaddeus. And to think, less than five minutes ago, Regis had been having such a fine day. ---------------------TTS------------------------- Chapter 9 Summary: Varian has a visceral reaction after eavesdropping on Timothy's devastating report with Rapunzel. After several key delays, the queen goes down to the stables to speak with Maximus....and receives a letter. ============ Varian gradually pulled away from the door where he’d just been eavesdropping on Timothy and the Queen. His head was shaking side to side involuntarily and his eyes had frozen wide open. Clawed hands raked through his hair until Varian was frantically grasping his fringe in shock and disbelief. Everything had gone numb as he continued backing away. His throat constricted for a time and he struggled to breathe.

“Varian?” Ash approached carefully and lightly touched his arm; he flinched violently at her touch. “Varian, are you okay?”

No. No, he wasn’t. This was impossible. Eugene couldn’t be dead. He just could not!

“I-I have to go!” Varian choked out. And he simply ran. He wasn’t even sure exactly where he was going. He couldn’t go to his dad, as Quirin was one of the few Coronian citizens to have actually seen bonafide combat. Thus his services would be required with Corona’s dwindling army now more than ever….. He couldn't go to Rapunzel, she had enough problems to worry about, and he couldn’t go to Eugene because he was- no. He wasn't. He could not be! Maybe he was only missing, not dead.

Xavier. Xavier would know what to do. Varian needed to find Xavier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TTS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Max,” Rapunzel smiled a weak watery smile as she gently stroked the horse’s face. “Heard you had quite the run.”

She offered him an apple that he accepted from her hand….but he carefully set it aside and refused to eat it.

“Yeah, I know the feeling, my friend.” Pascal chirruped in agreement and nuzzled a little against Max’s face from the vantage point of Rapunzel’s shoulder.

It still hadn’t completely sunk in…..Eugene’s possibly being gone forever. By the time she had gone down to speak with Max about an hour after first speaking to poor Timothy, about a half dozen of their other soldiers had also beaten a hasty retreat back to Corona proper, as Old Corona was even less safe than ever, due to the out-of-control fire. Sometimes not all of these men arrived in one piece, either. Rapunzel subsequently learned the enemy had started an oversized funeral pyre…..but why?? They also independently corroborated Timothy’s claims of Eugene’s being run-through. And even worse, some said that Eugene’s stricken body had been thrown…..on the top of that funeral pyre. She’d heard the chilling reports corroborated more than once, from soldiers who had little to no idea what their fellow troops had also seen. She had had those tunnel nightmares for ages. And yet...hardly anything felt real. She felt detached from everything. Once the tiny and woefully wounded and bedraggled troop contingent had arrived, however, news had spread throughout the palace grounds faster than the fire that spawned it: Eugene is dead. The Prince is dead. Captain Fitzherbert died in battle.

Maximus let out a soft nickering. Rapunzel allowed a few tears to finally fall for real. It was a stark reality, seeing Max without Eugene. Seeing the blood on the saddle. Seeing the thick bandages on Maximus as he was carefully laid on his side, being cared for in the stable. Seeing everything, everything that she had once thought of as strong and capable and larger-than-life, and practically invincible….all in such precarious states. She just…..couldn’t…..

“I don’t know what I would’ve done had we lost you too, Max,” whispered Rapunzel. This was the only way, she decided, she could hold things together. With Max and Pascal, she could fall apart if needed, without anyone questioning her state of mind or suggesting she should step down from her duties. She just….couldn’t bring herself to give up on him just yet. Rapunzel instinctively knew that she was still the best chance Eugene had for being found. And that chance would diminish severely if she replaced herself with someone else in the highest command position.

Max nuzzled her hand before biting at his saddlebag and pulling out a folded letter with "Wifey" scrawled in hurried font on the back.

She accepted it with shaking hands. It still bore his scent and the official Captain’s watermark. Eugene’s. She could barely contain her trembling as she unfolded the pages.

My Dearest Sunshine and Darling Wifey,

The writing on the parchment here appeared peppered with large drops of clear liquid. Most of the ink was smeared, including the date in the top right corner, as if it were all written in a furious hurry. It’s doubtless the reason why Eugene never had time to seal the letter either.

If you’ve been given this letter, then I can assume I’ve entered a battle from which I will likely not return. Know that I did everything in my power to win for us. I’ve done everything in my power to return to you. I never wanted to leave you or Kleisonne. It was never my choice to stay away….but I’m sorry nonetheless. Not only do I have sworn duty to protect the kingdom and her heirs…..it’s most of all because I want you and our daughter to be as safe as humanly possible. You’ve been the best companion, wife, mother to our child, lover, and life-rescuer this flawed man could have ever hoped for. I’ve been more happy these past 5 years with you than the prior 23 years of my life combined. I’ve never wished more than now that an afterlife truly exists. Because whether in living life or afterlife, I would give absolutely everything I have just to spend even a tiny bit more of my time with you and Kleisonne, even if all I got to give you was a proper goodbye. I love you more than mere words could ever convey.

Also know how much I cherish you and how fortunate I am to have been given a second chance to get things right in my life. That never could’ve happened without you.

I’ll never stop loving you, Sunshine. Death couldn’t stop that before. Perhaps….the odds might smile on me yet again.

In my absence, I need you to be certain and watch that nanny. Please. My paternal instincts are just extra strong right now, I suppose but certainly you of all people can understand why I'm....careful. And in case I can’t return, please make sure Kleisonne knows I love her and that I never wanted to leave her. I didn’t abandon her by choice. Someone stole our time out from under us. Every moment we three are apart, I’m certain desiderium shall overwhelm me. Please….tell my dad how much I appreciate, love, and care for him. I completely understand his delay. I can’t imagine how difficult it would’ve been to pull together a virtual army and make his way back here in about 7 weeks. Two or three days shouldn’t have made much of a difference but in this case….? I fear Edmund will never forgive himself--but I will. Corona will still need him and the Brotherhood though, even if I’m gone. Tell Fred and Arianna thank you for everything…..they were my family at a time when I still had nobody else.

You were my new dream yesterday, you’re my new dream today, and you’ll always be the best dream I could ever seek, Rapunzel. I’ll remain forever your devoted husband.

All my love and more, Eugene

Rapunzel was openly sobbing now. Rivers of pent-up tears flowed as the Queen’s small body was wracked with uncontrolled weeping. She surrendered to the worst pain and emotional loss of her entire life. It just wasn’t right. It’s not fair for me to have saved him once, only for the enemy soldiers to get him just a few short years later.

Maximus whinnied low in his throat and nuzzled in, letting Rapunzel know it was safe for her to come closer, despite his bandages. It was clear the despondent horse didn’t care how much he hurt physically, which….comparably, still wasn’t all that much. The adrenaline still hadn’t worn off from his mad dash earlier, apparently. And it was the least he could do to give his queen a safe space to cry. She clung tightly to his neck, letting her tears soak into his mane. Maximus well knew how difficult it was for her to express herself when she felt vulnerable.

Events and every single independent corroboration thus far all pointed towards Commodore Fitzherbert having been killed. Virtually nobody had seen him alive since before the inferno effectively ended the battle. Several people had even witnessed his being run-through, and a couple of his men had even seen his body on a lighted funeral pyre. Rapunzel was wracked again with more sobs at these thoughts.

How could Eugene have possibly survived? Common sense told her he hadn’t. Yet everything else told her he was still out there, somewhere, needing urgently to be found. Everyone lucky enough to have retreated from the battle said they were certain he had not survived. Though it had been around 4-5 hours since the end of the battle, Rapunzel couldn’t give up just yet.

Most chillingly of all, the idea had finally begun sinking in….mostly due to morale being plunged to abysmal levels.

The whole kingdom had felt noticeably dimmer once everyone began to believe Eugene Fitzherbert was dead.

[ladyfawkes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A Murder of Snows by LadyFawkes Chapter 2/5 - The Toboggan Incident Current word count: 4278 Story Summary:

Cassandra teases Eugene one too many times about his dislike for snow. Rapunzel’s since been made aware of what the main reason is but she doesn’t know many others that Eugene has yet to divulge. He gives at least 5 examples that include reasons for him to loathe these tiny ice crystals. Each story is successively worse than the previous one.

Chapter Two: The Toboggan Incident

One winter some time after Eugene and his friend Arnie had left the orphanage, the pair were trudging along on a comparably nice-ish day. It had snowed an awful lot the prior weekend, but that day, the sun was shining bright. The air wasn’t frigid and as such, Arnie and Eugene each got a bit stir crazy inside their little warm cave setup in the mountainside. Arnie and Eugene were originally going to head into town when they caught sight of a small child struggling with a toboggan. The little girl had been on the mountain a few times over the past several weeks, ever since she’d received the shiny new toboggan at Christmas.

Eugene and Arnie had originally watched and envied the child because of her family and warm home. But they also knew the other local children made fun of her too. This little girl actually walked with a pronounced limp and all of the others refused to play with her based on that one thing alone. Even her elder brother who was supposed to be watching over her, making sure she wouldn’t fall over or injure herself, would often go off with friends his age rather than minding his younger sister. He typically abandoned her to play alone.

And though he couldn’t explain why, Eugene felt….an obligation to watch over this little brunette whenever her brother would ditch her, so she wouldn’t be left alone on the mountain. Arnie wasn’t so sure….at times young Arnie and Eugene marveled at the cruelty of children, no matter their living circumstances.

After about the third time the girl’s brother ditched her, she had spotted Eugene and Arnie in the trees, watching her. The boys fully expected her to yell at them, to chase them off. Even though they wouldn’t dream of bothering her, she hadn’t known that.

“Hulloooo!!” the girl raised a mittened hand, waving grandly as she could with her feet nearly stuck tight in the fresh powder. “I’m Chelsea! What are your names?” Eugene and Arnie momentarily stared at each other in shock. Townie children were typically encouraged by their parents and others to ignore “street urchins” like Arnie and Eugene. It was a minor miracle that this girl was speaking with them so freely.

“Uh, I’m….Flynn?” said Eugene, giving an alias just in case. “And I’m Lance!” replied Arnie, waving his own arm. The pair continued to watch Chelsea for a few more moments.

“Hey, erm, are you stuck in the snow? Did you need some help climbing out?” asked Eugene as he slowly made his way down the slope. The snow slid easily and sections of it would cascade like shiny bits of frozen sand with each step he took. Chelsea held up her arms and looked down at her lower body, now hip-deep in the white powder.

The girl held up her arms and looked down helplessly at her trapped lower body and shrugged in consternation at her predicament. “Yes, please!!”

“C’mere and hold onto the toboggan, Lance,” said Eugene. At that, Arnie made his way down the mountain in Eugene’s trail. Then Arnie stood off to one side and steadied the sled as Eugene instructed Chelsea to grab the line attached to the toboggan and hold tight so it could help tow her out. Then Eugene reached down in the white powder and unstuck one of Chelsea’s feet and then the other, until the little girl was very sloooowly sliding downhill again, this time on her belly and elbows against the toboggan, with her freshly unstuck feet flailing happily behind her as she laughed.

Arnie and Eugene met the girl at the bottom of the slope and Chelsea stood up to her full still-tiny height and unhesitatingly threw her arms around Eugene.

“Oh, thank you, Lance and Flynn!” she said, her voice wavering. “My big brother Joshua is supposed to be minding me buuuuut he would rather be with his own older friends,” sniffled Chelsea. “I guess I can’t blame him. I am an annoying little tagalong. Mum is busy inside with the babies.” Eugene’s face bunched up in a scowl.

“If you were my little sister, I’d never leave you out here alone,” he vowed. “Yeah,” agreed Arnie, “we know too well what dangers can lay in wait up here on the mountain.”

Unhesitatingly, Chelsea brightened up and invited them to stay and play with her that day, working out a way to exchange towing and other similar services for downhill rides on her new toboggan. After an awkward pause, she could tell they were about to turn her down…..when she instead asked them to wait. She limped across the base of the mountain and into a warm-looking cottage a few hundred yards away.

After a few minutes, a plump sweet-looking woman followed Chelsea out the back door. “Mama, this is Flynn and Lance,” she began, “and they helped me out of the snow after Joshua left me alone. I’m sure I would’ve frozen to death!” she held a hand to her forehead dramatically.

Chelsea’s mother took one look at the boys in their worn-out coats, gloves with holes in the fingers, and ground down shoes. They had much more snow caked on all over in places where there shouldn’t be any….yet they hadn’t the proper gear to keep out the snow. The pair felt a bit embarrassed by her scrutiny.

“Thank you for helping Chelsea,” the girl’s mother said seriously. “Any particular reason why you stopped for her?” she quizzed.

Eugene looked at her in confusion. “We were on the mountain. Saw that she was stuck and clearly needed help. We asked, Chelsea said yes, and so we helped her,” he shrugged and said simply.

“So no thought of reward?” asked Chelsea’s mother.

“‘Reward’, ma’am?” Eugene echoed. “We’re only here at Chelsea’s request.” And the little girl nodded rapidly in confirmation.

“I see,” the woman replied, her countenance suddenly brightening considerably. “I’m Mrs. Thurgood. Do you boys know how to start a fire?”

“Uhh….y-yes? Ma’am?” said Eugene, wondering if this was a trick question.

“Then would you do us the very great honor of starting a fire in the outside stove?” She pointed behind and to their right toward a stand-alone brick hearth with a chimney a ways out from the home. “Everything you need -- flint, kindling -- is out there in that wood chest.” Arnie and Eugene proceeded to get a nice roaring fire started and were thawing out when Chelsea came back out of the cottage and said, “I knew she would like you!” Eugene and Arnie were accustomed to being hated and ran off upon first meeting much of the time.

Mrs. Thurgood returned outside, this time with a rather large bundle of winter clothing. “So long as you boys agree to mindin’ my Chelsea today, she says you may share her toboggan and I’ll let you keep this winter gear. Some of the gloves and mittens are missing their mates but if you both can find any items that fit you, you’re welcome to them. Mittens, gloves, mufflers, coats, and boots!”

Eugene and Arnie stared at one another in shock. “Ma’am, we didn’t do this for any reward.”

“Aye, Flynn, is it?” Eugene nodded. “You didn’t seek any reward so that’s why you’re getting one. Besides, these are castoffs, anyway; thus you’re helping me doubly -- this time by decluttering my home.” And the auburn-haired woman winked at them.

The two boys gaped at one another in awe after Mrs. Thurgood turned around to head back inside and Eugene dove for the pile of winter goods. Eugene and Arnie each found a handsome coat and hat. Although most children complained about wearing mufflers, these boys already appreciated just how warm they could be when properly worn.

Turns out that Mrs. Thurgood’s husband was a commissioned officer away at war. Joshua, a teen, could not be disciplined very well without his father around, especially when Mrs. Thurgood had to mind three other children under five years old. She paid the boys in meals and other perks for minding Chelsea and performing simple odd jobs outside while Mr. Thurgood was away. Mrs. Thurgood was such a kind gem, so unlike the other townie women. He and Arnie agreed they would never steal anything from Mrs. Thurgood.

A few weeks after Arnie and Eugene first rescued Chelsea, when the elder boy Joshua had time to stew over the fact that a couple of orphan children were effectively taking his place at home, thereby making him look bad and getting rewarded for it…..

On this clear day, after the weekend of blizzards, Chelsea wasn’t able to go outside with them. But Mrs. Thurgood was just fine with them borrowing and taking turns with the girl’s toboggan for the day, provided they returned it when they were finished. As such, that meant the boys were traipsing further up the mountain that day for longer sled runs. About an hour into their sledding, Eugene and Arnie had set up for another ride down the hill when they heard a whole bunch of shouting above them on the mountain.

Then they heard what seemed like a slipping-whoosh noise, followed by a deep rumbling.

“It sounds like thunder,” Arnie said, while the boys looked up into a crisp blue sky. Not a storm cloud -- nor any cloud, really -- in sight.

Then they heard some super-loud snapping and cracking sounds as the rumbling grew even louder. Finally, they looked upwards of themselves on the slope and they figured out what it was. A thick 10-ft rolling wall of snow came barreling down the mountain and swept away everything in its path. At the last second, in desperation, they turned the toboggan to face up-slope, and turned it upside down while attempting to shield themselves with it against the coming onslaught.

Poor Eugene and Arnie didn’t stand a chance. ~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, what?” Cassandra blinked in confusion. “How ever did you and Lance escape the avalanche??”

Again, Eugene nursed his hot cocoa, sipping strategically. “We didn’t,” he answered meaningfully, shrugging off her prying. [Slurrrrp.]

Cass glanced over at Rapunzel; the curly-haired woman threw her hands in the air in exasperation. Rapunzel, who knew that all she had to do was find the correct question, instead asked Eugene, “What happened post-avalanche? Certainly someone dug you out -- you’re sitting here with us now, after all,” the princess reasoned.

“That part I really couldn’t tell you,” Eugene replied. He kissed the back of Rapunzel’s hand. “But let’s see…..I remember cowering under the sled with Lance….and the horrendous thundering noise, the trees snapping like giant matchsticks, being engulfed and tumbling ass-over-teacups in a giant wave of snow.” He wasn’t expecting it, but a chill passed through Eugene as he shuddered at the memory. Briefly, he fell into reverie.

Cassandra wordlessly stood up to take Eugene’s empty mug from him, and surprised everyone by returning it to him with a refill. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

He accepted it from Cassandra gratefully, took a sip….and it helped Eugene far more than he thought it would. “The next thing I knew,” he continued his story, “I woke up in a warm bed with Mrs. Thurgood hovering over me. My left forearm was broken and splinted and I’d been knocked out and unconscious for the previous three days, apparently. The theory was that the toboggan probably smacked me on the arm and maybe side of the head during our tumble. I had a humdinger of a laceration in my scalp that required 20 stitches. Lance’s foot had caught a tree trunk on the way down the mountain and he got laid up too.”

“Whoa,” Rapunzel whispered. “So….do you…..do you have any idea what caused that avalanche?” she inquired timorously.

At that, Eugene’s expression darkened immediately from slightly sullen to downright pissed off. “Oh, we know exactly who caused it and why they did it,” he growled.

Cassandra was still in her rather relentless “poke the bear” mode of curiosity and thus kept egging him on. Though she wasn’t that great with emotions, instinct told her that she was doing the right thing by carefully encouraging Eugene to spill the tea with Rapunzel’s assurances.

“Do tell,” Cass spoke up, “is it anyone I know personally who caused it? If so, whose ass do I need to kick next week when we’re back in Corona?” She punched a fist into her palm.

Eugene’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

“What?” Cass asked after an awkward pause. “Nobody can mess with you but me,” she simply shrugged, cocking a hip and folding her arms in defiance.

Eugene’s eyes darted downward and he unsuccessfully smothered a grin with a hand that flew up to cover his mouth. He wasn’t accustomed to anyone being actively protective of him except for Rapunzel. Especially not over something that happened to him around 15 years ago…

He sighed, this time without rancor. “Remember Chelsea’s elder brother, Joshua?” Eugene asked as both women nodded. “Turns out he and a few of his best buddies were out to teach Lance and I a lesson for ‘messing with his family’, i.e. actually being responsible, minding Chelsea, and doing odd jobs for Mrs. Thurgood. So ol’ Joshie and his buddies decided that since we’d be flying solo without Chelsea that day, it’d be the perfect opportunity to bury their competition. Literally.”

Rapunzel and Cassandra gaped openly at him, this latest news was what they considered most shocking of all.

“.....what?” Eugene asked quietly, suddenly finding himself massively self-conscious due to their scrutiny. “As a kid on the streets, you get used to unmitigated hate from practically everyone,” he half-shrugged. Cass looked Eugene hard in the eye. On the flip side, Rapunzel’s eyes looked shiny with tears. She beckoned her beloved to switch from his place on the poufy chair and snuggle with her on the poufy loveseat instead.

Otherwise Eugene had just emigrated from the No. 1 Spot to the No. 2 Spot in the place. He was still good…..really, really good, especially with Rapunzel slipping her arm behind his back, somewhere between his shirt and his doublet. Then she leaned right in against him and with both her arms snaked around his waist, Rapunzel smooshed up against him that much closer by hooking her thumbs through the opposite sides of Eugene’s belt loop. Typically, that would be a nookie signal from her...but at this time….as she took turns stroking his arm and hooking her thumb through his belt loop….he could sense that she felt bad for him.

Eugene glanced up again at Cassandra, who by now had raised her booted foot upon an ottoman and was sipping her own hot cocoa, studying him with renewed scrutiny.

And although Eugene usually liked a lot of attention, his goal was to be admired through said attention -- not pitied. If there was even a hint of pity, it made him squirm. His hands subconsciously balled into fists. Rapunzel’s head lifted off his chest and she said, “Your heart sped up. What is it?”

Eugene clamped his jaw tight shut for a few seconds before blurting, “Okay, see this? The way you two are looking at me, right now….” The two girls tried to share a glance without his noticing.

“What way?” asked Rapunzel innocently. “What look?” demanded Cass simultaneously with forced nonchalance.

Eugene groaned and his face fell into his hands. Out of the blue, Cassandra asked, “When was the last time you talked about your past this way?”

“Lessee,” Eugene took his head out of his hands using a finger to tap his lip and pretended to consider. “Uhm, approximately never,” he answered forcefully, his arms folding stoutly in front of himself, as if he were directly challenging her .

“Easy, whoa, Fitzcowboy,” said Cassandra as she cautiously held out her hands in front of herself. “I’m not trying to provoke you. It was an honest question.”

“No wonder this is so hard for you,” Rapunzel said, “if you’ve never told anyone about this stuff before.” She kissed his upper arm and nuzzled into it.

“I...guess I never thought about it before,” Eugene replied softly, his face dropping into his hands. “I just don’t want anybody to pity me. I can’t stand pity.” Cassandra and Rapunzel exchanged a look of incredulity. Cass urged Rapunzel to keep Eugene talking.

Rapunzel reached up and touched Eugene’s cheek. “Is that why you stopped mentioning most of your past? It was after Cass first started mocking you, wasn't it?” Eugene pressed his lips together and stayed silent while further burying his face in his hands; Cassandra swallowed hard, visibly sank ,and looked sideways toward the floor under Rapunzel’s careful gaze.

“I…..I suppose I might have misjudged you, as a person….” glancing back at Rapunzel out of the corner of her eye, the blonde woman egged her on. Cass clenched her jaw and mumbled, “....even more harshly than I originally thought.”

A very stunned Eugene slowly came out from behind his hands to stare at Cassandra. She was studiously trying (and failing) to ignore his own gaze. Again, Rapunzel urged Cass to just….spill the tea already.

“The past few weeks, Fitzherbert, you’ve made it increasingly difficult for me to find reasons to despise you. First, you haul off in the middle of a cursed blizzard to rescue the King and Queen. Second, even though you and the other guys were waiting for Rapunzel’s blessing to go, something tells me that you would’ve found a way to leave anyway, had she refused you. Third….just these past two stories of yours alone let me know you’ve got every reason to loathe snow; yet just weeks ago, you hauled off in a blizzard, were hit by an avalanche, and fell off a mountain, all in one trip. And yet fourth -- here you are with us in the mountains during winter.” Finally, Cassandra paused and said, “I don’t know that I could personally keep subjecting myself to what amounts to my own worst fear at such a level.”

For a few seconds, Eugene studied the dark-haired young woman. The past several minutes, she’d spoken more kindly to him than she had during the prior several months since they’d met combined. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. Good thing Rapunzel knew.

“Would you two just call a truce, already??” Rapunzel demanded impatiently, causing both Eugene and Cassandra to grin warmly, and glance away from each other self-consciously in spite of themselves.

“How can we possibly say no to that?” Eugene shrugged. “Search me,” Cass replied, as she walked across the room. She and Eugene shared the secret truce handshake that Rapunzel had taught them at the beginning of their friendship.

“I suppose that means it’s time for story No. 3,” continued Eugene. “This time, we’re back at the orphanage….”

[ladyfawkes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Desiderium by Trekkiehood and LadyFawkes Current word count: 13423 Current Chapter 8: The Useful Idiots Rated: T for graphic descriptions of violence, wartime, torture, things of a POW nature. ATTENTION/ACHTUNG/ATTENCION: THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! [Nor a repost.] DESI HAS BEEN GIVEN ITS 3RD UPDATE IN LESS THAN A WEEK. WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP! It's also the first chapter in which I've flown entirely solo thus far. Doth my eyes deceive me, or does our hero make a reappearance??? Hold onto your butts, buttercups. You finally get to learn what Regis is all about. Eeeeep!!! This one's intense!!

Overall Story Summary: Desiderium: an ardent desire or longing; especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost.

Eugene and Rapunzel's lives are turned upside down when a war breaks out between Corona and Equis. As Captain of the Guard, Eugene is forced to leave his wife and daughter to fight on the front lines, where a tragic berserker attack leaves Rapunzel a widow.....or so she's been led to believe.

Now prisoner to a sadistic megalomaniac, our severely injured Eugene must fight harder than he's ever fought before in order to escape dire circumstances and drag his way back to his family.

With battles raging, the enemy advancing, too many fallen troops, dwindling supplies under siege, and especially absent their most trusted strategic leader, the only chance Rapunzel, Corona, and Eugene have is if the kingdom can still somehow pull off the seemingly insurmountable task of winning this forsaken war. Has dusk finally arrived for the kingdom of the sun, or will she rise victorious once more? Chapter Summary: Eugene finds "help" in the most unexpected of places. Javeen’s men had concussed the enemy captain in outrage and then tightly bound his wrists and ankles with ropes for transport. Naturally, nobody amongst them had consciously thought to put pressure on the enemy's wounds. On the contrary, most of them had gone out of their way to avoid such a thing…. Their reputation had always been annihilation of all opposition and a literal scorched earth policy. It didn’t leave much room, if any, for compassion or medical training; most of the time, it left even less room for common sense. Before dawn that day, Commander Javeen’s underling had initially volunteered to perform the honor of actually transporting the soon-to-be-captured prisoner, the captain in red. However, by this point, Avila was less than thrilled; Uhlan Avila didn’t want the loathsome enemy captain to leak his blood and other bodily fluids all over his opulent saddle. He’d spent good money on it, after all. This was an unforeseen complication for which the uhlan had definitely not volunteered. Now….he was stuck with it, however. Avila sprinted over to a fallen enemy horse nearby, loosened the saddle, and reclaimed the saddle blanket, padding, and two leather straps. Taking the woolen pad and folding it over a few times, he twisted up the enemy captain inside of it with the blanket around the outside, and then cinched up everything with the reclaimed leather straps. Uhlan Avila was pleased with himself for being so clever. It was that one action of vanity alone which preserved Eugene’s life past this point; as otherwise short-sighted as these bloodthirsty barbarians were, transporting the wounded -- even their own -- was not something for which they spared much thought or effort. And so Uhlan Avila threw the prepared prisoner over the withers of his horse and ultimately brought the prisoner, retching and puking, all the way back to Javeen’s encampment outside Equisian city walls. Thus the Equisian army had done the enemy commander a secondary favor by attacking before breakfast; one cannot puke out what one has not eaten. And thus we've reached our third unintended positive consequence that the uhlan mistakenly provided the enemy: Avila had rendered him virtually unconscious. It was a copiously merciful thing, remaining staunchly unable to recall waking memory of being hauled away so inhumanely, bound and profusely bleeding, with no way to brace or prepare oneself for the relentless jarring and jouncing motions on the arduously long journey ahead. The same afternoon Queen Rapunzel of Corona received her husband’s final impassioned missive, the currently defenseless abductee Captain Eugene S. Fitzherbert, Prince Consort of Her Majesty Queen Rapunzel, was presented to His Imperial Majesty King Regis the First and Terrible of Equis. Regis preferred just the one name of his, as ambitious as he was, wanting to further distinguish himself from anyone else yet in the history books. Fully expectant that his captive should be brought to him on a silver platter, King Regis was royally put-out when he was instead Summoned to Javeen’s encampment due to a quote unquote “slight problem”. However, he was determined nothing would spoil his mood for that day. That day had all gone off without a hitch, apparently, every carefully laid plan thus far. As well it should, Regis congratulated himself internally. Nothing would be better than his moment of being able to gloat in the face of this unworthy thieving interloper who had taken up such a plumb station within the neighboring kingdom. Regis

had heard all about Fitzherbert from his

cousin before his death. What idiots Corona’s former royal couple must have been, getting duped by the likes of such a wonton common thief. King Regis vowed he would die before he let such an accursed scourge back into his palace. King Trevor had regaled Regis endlessly about his woes with Corona, King Frederic, and ultimately, the insufferable thief Fitzherbert. And Regis….well, Regis was like Trevor multiplied one-thousand-fold. While they were close to the same age, Regis had had a lifetime filled with having the throne denied him. His gargantuan height of 6’11” made Regis tower over most everyone around him. Though he was tall, he was also toned and muscular rather than massive; though he could yell louder than most, he also had a silver tongue. His cruelty, selfishness, and vanity knew no bounds -- nor did his taste for ostentation. Unlike Trevor, who had a very pointy pinched look, he was exceptionally attractive, broad-chested, masculine, and “strong as a bear”, with his close-cropped beard and once-dark-hair turned a respectable salt-&-pepper. Yet beautiful as he was, every horrible family trait that Trevor had ever possessed -- and then some -- were magnified to abysmal new depths within Regis….which is why lately, he’d been experimenting around with giving himself titles of repute. “King Regis the Great”....no, too generic. “King Regis the Horrible,”...no. Again, too….pedestrian. “King Regis the Terrible”...? Slight improvement but still not good enough. King Regis brushed an invisible piece of lint off his shimmering blue ermine cape, readjusted his most opulent jeweled crown and sauntered through the massive tent flap that had been pulled aside in anticipation of his arrival. He strutted toward the back of the tent, where he saw his 2nd and 3rd in command, Commander Javeen and Commander Thaddeus. Thaddeus backed away at a steady pace upon seeing him, after bowing, saluting, and announcing his king's arrival. Regis picked up on an undercurrent of agitation between his leading men. As he approached Javeen and a heap of rags on the ground, he learned precisely why. It was not a mound of rags before him. Now abruptly seeing his Big Moment evaporate in front of his eyes, Regis rushed up to what was clearly a passed-out prisoner. Surely this could not be Fitzherbert….?? He’d expected him to be a bit sick and groggy via a pre-planned ride from Hades over horse’s withers but not….. And Regis roughly clutched at the hair of the prone individual and yanked backward on the head. And though this prisoner’s features were filthy, it was just as Regis feared: he was indeed looking at the face that had launched a thousand Wanted posters, his avowed newest enemy, Eugene Fitzherbert, Prince of Thieves. The enemy prisoner showed no outward reaction to him nor anything else whatsoever. He lay perfectly still, eyes closed and expressionless, his body completely inert. With fury clouding his vision, Regis tore at the saddle blanket wrapped around his prey. The blanket had all but adhered to those once-leaking wounds through Eugene’s torso. By this time, Cmdr. Thaddeus had backed away to a safe distance outside the tent. “What is the MEANING OF THIS!?!?” roared Regis, unclutching his once-intended target’s hair and crossing the tent to Javeen in less than half a second. “GRIEVOUSLY DAMAGING MY CHOSEN PREY BEFORE I CAN EVEN SEE HIM?!?! “My-My Liege,” stuttered Javeen, “I thought you’d be pleased to see him in such dire straits!” At this, even Regis was taken aback. Briefly. “To reiterate….you ‘thought I’d be PLEASED’," Regis made mocking air-quotes, “to see the very victim I’d been planning personally to accost now for months, suddenly in a position where nothing I can do can possibly torture or make him hurt enough, the way he should be!?!” At this, Regis twitched his wrist and an impossibly sharp filigreed 12-inch-length steel stylus slipped silently out of a concealed pouch in his sleeve. Now, the king was deceptively, eerily calm, ever-so-slowly advancing on Javeen, who was inching away. “Did it ever occur to you,”

Regis rapidly whip-sliced in an upward diagonal with the stylus, his impossibly-lengthy arm snaking out and away him, “that I might need to play with him first?” And then he whipped the whisper-quiet blade rapidly on an opposing downward diagonal, completing an X pattern across the chest of Javeen’s tunic. His second’s eyes bugged out and he continued to back away from Regis, stumbling and stuttering, "N-no-no, Si-sire." Javeen clutched at and tried pressing his tunic against the new fresh wounds underneath them to staunch the flow of blood. Gritting his teeth and trying desperately not to cry out, Javeen well knew how screaming and crying to Regis would only encourage him further.  "This dirty thief has information I require, you fool,” Regis said low in his throat, with deadly calm, as he threw the stylus at the dirt and it pierced Javeen through his foot. His hapless second screamed in spite of himself and fell backward, his foot still pinned to the earth through his boot. “I pay you to kill, maim, and follow my orders to the letter,” Regis stood over him prior to leaving, “not to do my thinking for me.” "Un....underst-stood, Si-sire," whispered Javeen. As abject terror gripped him, Javeen still knew he'd gotten off easy. He was still alive and allowed to keep all limbs and sensory organs. After giving his original intended victim Fitzherbert one last longing glance, Mad King Regis knelt down and plucked his stylus out of the shocked man’s pinned foot as slowly and agonizingly as possible, making Javeen yell mightily again as crimson gushed out the new holes in either side of his boot. "You'd best hope he lives," Regis threatened pleasantly, nonchalantly inspecting the bloodied point of his stylus. Regis then wiped his stylus clean on Javeen’s trouser leg, and said loudly, “Cmdr. Thaddeus, Summon the surgeon or apothecary, whatever he calls himself. Tell him he has a new charge. JUST THE ONE,” he growled menacingly at Javeen, his implications crystal clear although he still addressed Cmdr Thaddeus. And to think, less than five minutes ago, Regis had been having such a fine day.