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Consequences of Worthlessness Universe

Starting from Rapunzel's Return, CoW exacerbates the suffering Varian faced during his incarceration and follows his journey of healing and growth from Season Three to long after Vat7K.

Main Storyline

Consequences of Worthlessness Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 Eugene really should have known better. Finding out Varian was working with the Separatists made things infuriatingly complicated but it was finding out how they treated the alchemist that sent everything Eugene thought he knew up in flames. No amount of resentment he harbored for Varian could make Eugene stand by and let Varian suffer like this at Andrew's hands. Actually, he was beginning to question if he still had any anger left. Found Family | Hurt/Comfort | Angst with a Happy Ending | Redemption | Enemies to Friends to Siblings Warnings ☣︎! Blood and Injury / Grooming / Abuse / Torture / Violence

Independent Stories

His arms aren't cooperative. It feels like he has to puppet his own body; heavy, detached, and sluggish. He manages regardless, even if it takes far more effort than it should. He feels greatly accomplished when he finally braces himself against the ground and forces trembling limbs to help him up. He doesn't get far before fingers appear and wrap around one of his wrists. The hand pulls. He's not coherent enough to keep himself from dropping bonelessly back down, knocking his chin hard against the dirt with a strained squeak. His arm is guided roughly behind his back while he’s shoved and twisted around until the hand can do the same to the opposite arm. Something thin begins loop around his wrists, scratchy and biting until it starts to morph into the tightness that’s trapped his legs. Varian huffs, squirming, "Stop," he slurs, tongue too big in his mouth. A laugh barks harshly above him, a deep, grating noise that sounds painful. Varian can barely move, nauseous and hurting and at the mercy of an unknown man far stronger than him. The tightness is yanked impossibly tighter before it’s tied off expertly. The hands retreat once his wrists are glued together and his hands properly immobilized.

It's uncomfortable. Even through the thick leather of his gloves he can feel the tightness digging into his skin. The more he wiggles the sharper the pain becomes. He quickly rubs his limbs raw with his useless struggles but he doesn’t dare stop. He won’t be mistreated without putting up a fight. Never again. He huffs again, panting, and shouts when the process starts again right above his elbows. He tries to break free from the hands hurting him but with his limbs disobedient he can't do anything but kick out at nothing and try to twist free. All he gets for his efforts is especially cruel treatment, ruthlessly tossed around so the hands can get their way. His arms are trapped by the dreaded tightness soon and he continues to try in vain to unwind the pressure forcing him still. It hurts. His head, the tightness, his shoulders strained by the unnatural angle of his arms wrenched behind him like this.

He can barely keep his eyes open, lights blinding him and shifting shapes refusing to come into focus, every movement another angry pounding against his skull. He doesn't know where he is. The swirling colors aren't the deep purple and shining gold of Corona. He yearns for that familiarity. He wants his dad. He wants Rapunzel. He wants Eugene. He whimpers when the figure attached to the hands heaves him up and effortless slings Varian over its shoulder. He writhes, slamming bound legs against the torso of the figure. The figure doesn’t falter, instead shrugging Varian up higher up in his hold. Varian’s stomach falls uncomfortably onto the figure’s shoulder which leaves him to wheeze when the air is forced from his lungs.

"Don't," he pleads to something he doesn't know, breathless and scared.

"Shut it, kid," The figure rumbles, its voice just as gravelly as its laugh and all the more uncaring. "Your beggin' won't get you nowhere." It's a short trip to wherever the figure is taking him but he thinks his perception of time isn’t as sound as he might like to believe. Everything is blurring together, drifting in and out of focus. When he's tossed unceremoniously down onto a hard surface another pathetic whine crawls out of him without his permission.

Varian attempts again to make his body work, desperately hoping to pry his limbs apart despite nothing having changed from the last time. The figure is laughing, taunting him, and Varian is suddenly breathing too hard. With each heaving gasp the throbbing in his head grows more insistent until it's a constant stabbing cry spearing through his brain. The figure is doing something, reaching up high. The figure is a masculine silhouette against an abstract blur of greens and browns and the flickering glow of something orange. The figure’s grabbed hold of something above and it begins to lower. It’s another mass of shadow and as it’s pulled down the darkness starts to close in. "No," Varian whispers, tears springing to his eyes when he realizes he's being locked away. No matter how hard he breathes his lungs are still screaming for air. "No, no, no." He shakes his head frantically despite the agony it brings him. The figure just laughs and laughs and laughs until all that’s left is darkness and Varian’s short, shuddering gasps.

The first thing Nuru registers is the pressure behind her eyes. It's an ache that wraps all the way around her head and she groans softly when she’s assaulted by a particularly demanding twinge. She turns to press her forehead into a cool pillow only to be met with hard, uneven wood. Reality crashes into her with no remorse. Yong, the forge, the man who grabbed her, lungs begging for air, panic overcoming every thought, Varian. She gasps, heart now slamming against her ribs like a rabid beast. Varian.

She's not surprised to find herself bound, unable to do much more than scoot back until she hits some sort of wall. It's pitch black, she can't make out a single shape in the void she’s been left in. She feels seconds away from breaking down, tears already budding at the corners of her eyes. It's taking all of her willpower to keep herself from spiraling. She reaches back in her memory for every lesson she’s ever had about how to keep her head during situations such as these.

Breathe, she reminds herself sharply, the same stern tone she’d use when telling Hugo off. She can't sit up all the way is one of the first things she notes. She has to duck her head down at an uncomfortable angle when she tries to sit against the wall. She notices that the ground is bouncing gently, a consistent and familiar tremble telling of a road-bound carriage. She swallows thickly and lowers herself carefully back onto her side. Breathe. She closes her eyes and sucks in a shaky breath, exhaling as slowly as she can manage. Again. Her next breath is smoother. The one after is nearly steady. She can't really assess much in her current situation. Unfortunately, that means she's left alone with her thoughts in this cold and unforgiving dark.

She's been taken. It's such an absurd thought that she chokes on a weak laugh. Hysteria starts to build as her tears bubble up in her eyes despite the incredulous urge to break out into giggles. She must look crazy. The tears tumble free and her laughter comes in the form of a quiet sob.

She's been told before that with her status and her age it was always a possibility that she could be targeted as leverage to use against her kingdom. She was the youngest of the Kotian royal family, it made sense she would be the first on the list for anyone looking to hurt Koto. She knew it was a real danger and yet it always felt like something that would never happen to her, like the tale of the Lost Princess of Corona. It’s been nothing but a scary story her whole life. She should have known better, stayed aware. This was her first time out of Koto not accompanied by the royal guard and it didn't even occur to her that she might be vulnerable. How could she have been so stupid?

She lets her mind wander to Varian, calling up to the Stars to ask for his safety. The hit he'd taken looked devastating but maybe it hadn't been as bad as it seemed. It’s not like she’s particularly well-versed in combat. He'd still been conscious. last she remembers. which means that it couldn't have been that bad, right? Head injuries are so dangerous— so complicated — she can't possibly know what damage was done. She doesn't think it's been long, she prays it hasn’t been long. Hopefully the others have found him. As rude and brash as Hugo could be Nuru doesn't think he'd actually hurt them. Not physically, at least. Hugo was a thief, not a killer. Beneath all of his supposed 'charm' he cared. She latches onto that thought while she's carted further and further away from safety— from her friends.

Even living it now somehow it’s difficult to wrap her head around the situation. It felt like a nightmare that wouldn’t let her go. Whatever vehicle she’s in hits a particularly large bump and she knocks her head against the roof of her prison. She wanted to wake up. She didn’t have any experience with potentially dangerous situations. Well, physically threatening ones. The Trials weren’t meant to be easy tasks after all but they weren’t thugs likely armed with swords and daggers. It’s terrifying not knowing where she is or where she’s going or even who had taken her. She knows there’s at least two of them but what if there was more? Three, four, a dozen?

The terrain their traveling over becomes uneven, wheels rumbling loudly as the whole cart is jerked around. She whimpers, curling up as small as she can manage and squeezing her eyes shut. She can’t use her arms to protect her head bound the way she is and she’s terrified of adding more to the unbearable aching.

The vehicle begins to slow and Nuru’s heart leaps into her throat. The nightmare isn’t ending. No amount of wishing or begging will change whatever is coming and she’s never been so deeply frightened.

She can only listen as people push themselves from their cart, strolling along like they weren’t the lowest of the low. Their footsteps fade as they walk further away, lingering a few yards from the carriage if Nuru has to guess. They speak in muffled voices she can’t distinguish and, despite it being completely absurd, she finds herself offended. They went through all the trouble to steal her and yet they didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry to let her out of this dreadful box. She didn’t know the exact dimensions of her prison but with how low the height is she can’t really see the box being large in any sense. Curiously she stretches her legs out as far as she can. She expects to hit wall if she hits anything at all, the box’s length might be much larger than its height. The toes of her boots reach something but then the wall is too soft to be a wall. She shoots her knees back up to her chest with a sharp inhale, golden eyes blowing wide as if that might help her see. She’s certain that wasn’t the other end of the container. She’s terrified of what it might be instead.

It had a certain give to it but it wasn’t soft like a pillow, more similar perhaps to the cushion of a well-made chair; soft at first but firm beneath. The thing hadn’t reacted at all to her touch and for that Nuru is both grateful and increasingly curious. At a snail’s pace, she begins to extend her legs once more. Whatever the object may be hasn’t moved and she tentatively presses her feet against it to get a better idea of its structure or shape. The only other thing she manages to garner is how large it is because a breathless groan breaks the heavy silence.

She shrieks, tearing her feet away.

She can’t name what she was expecting to find but she was utterly unprepared for life. Maybe a sack filled with tools or a bedroll or a tent or something that wasn’t a person. The figure huffs and groans again, the distinct sound of cloth dragging along a hard surface letting Nuru know that they were moving but not where. They couldn’t be one of the thugs, there was no use to keep an ally stored away in this inhumane box. She can only guess that they were also a prisoner.

“Hello,” She whispers. She speaks with all the confidence she can gather but there’s an infuriating tremor underlying each word.

The person pants and winces, shifting further. Nuru is far too familiar with the sounds of pain after joining up with their group of misfits stumbling through extremely dangerous tests of olden days. They all were prone to cuts, scraps, and bruises. Some were worse than others but all of them painful in one way or another. Yong was young enough that he was still very vocal about every sting and burn. She can’t know how this person is injured in their current state but she can hypothesize that they are hurt by the way they sound. How long have they been captive to these brutes and why was it they were still alive when they had Nuru to ransom off? She begs the Stars that this figure continues to live but with a princess within their grasp there was no need for another hostage.

“No,” the person slurs weakly, distinctly male. A choked sob is muffled into something. Nuru’s heart aches. He sounds young, not a child but not fully grown. “Please let me out, please,” He murmurs with a voice just barely above a whisper hitching with each frightened gasp for air.

“Hello,” Nuru tries again. She feels horrible for the dash of relief that fills her. She wasn’t alone in this waking nightmare and despite their situation being potentially deadly she’s still grateful to have someone with her. The guilt is rotten and wild, knotting with fervor in her gut. “They won’t keep us here.” She has no grounds to say so but their plans wouldn’t go over well if their leverage starved.

“I can— I’ll be better,” The strangled plea is slightly louder. It’s familiar, it brings forth the feeling of family bound by hardship, and Nuru’s heart trips over itself and plummets. “Just let me out,” Varian begs. Nuru hasn’t never heard him sound so scared. By the weak slur of his words Nuru doesn’t think he’s completely aware. She thinks again of the complexities of head injuries and tries not to be sick.

“Varian.” Her voice breaks. Her eyes fill with tears faster than she can hold them back. They spilling down her cheeks in heavy rivulets. “Varian, can you hear me?” She doesn’t know where Varian thinks he is or if he actually does understand where they are. She doesn’t think so. Maybe she’s looking for things that aren’t there, if she grasped at all the little things she can direct her focus towards anything but her current situation. She might be wrong but she can’t help but think that it sounds like Varian’s talking to someone he knows, someone he truly believes he can convince to let him go and not some random criminals that took them by surprise.

Varian whimpers and Nuru bites her lip to keep herself from doing the same. Something about her older friend being so utterly defeated and desperate fills her with a growing sense of hopelessness. Varian’s never given up. Never. Through every trial, every setback, every argument or inconvenience. Varian is always the one to rally them together and push through. It’s horrifying to her that he’s so broken down. If he’s crumbled what chance does she have?

She swallows thickly and makes a real attempt to blink back the flood of tears soaking her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Breathe. She coaxes herself and forces a breath in through her nose and slowly from her mouth. It’s hard to calm herself when Varian is still audibly crying and whispering pleas to a ghost only he can see but she takes another breath anyway.

She will not give in. She was prepared before to hold her head high and she won’t let her confidence crumble. Varian is strong and he’s been a pillar for them to lean on through their journey even when some of them— Hugo— would never admit it. She isn’t someone who needs a hero, she doesn’t need to hide behind Varian. It’s her turn to be strong for her friends. “I’m here, Varian.” She sniffles and tries to wipe her tears away with the short sleeve of her dress. The material isn’t too efficient but she still feels more put together afterwards. “You’re not alone.”

Her vision goes white as light pours into their prison.

She closes her eyes against the sudden onslaught and presses her face into the floor to further escape. Varian whimpers again. Her eyes adjust quickly thanks to her response time, light filtering through her eyelids and making the sun less glaring when she pries her eyes open. She doesn’t know what she expects or even if she expected anything but she’s not surprised to see that they truly are just in a wooden box, short but wide so it’s spacious enough to fit multiple bodies— the reminder makes her shudder. She can’t make out the features of the man holding up the lid of the box due to the sun casting him in silhouette but from his frame alone she can see that he’s large and burly and not someone she has any chance of overpowering on her own.

Varian makes a short keening sound in the back of his throat and curls up as small as possible. His back is turned to her, arms bound behind him the same as hers, but as he shifts she sees a small smear of red that trails after his head. She wonders, in this suffocating moment, if this is what it might feel like to be dying. Her lungs crave air even though she breathes, her heart withers though it beats, her vision dims though her eyes are open. Ruling over Koto, she’s accustomed to panic and disaster. Her kingdom is ravaged by strife and devastation annually and she’s learned how she’s expected to aid in her kingdom’s survival but this— she’s never seen someone she cares for bleed like this. She’s never seen a friend, a loved one, family hurt so bad they’re trapped in a reality all their own. Varian’s bleeding and he isn’t processing what’s happening and Nuru is terrified.

The man she can’t see laughs. It’s a deep and rough sound that rings with genuine mirth and ignites a righteous anger in her. “How hard did’ya hit the kid?” He asks his partner, wherever they may be. He’s only using one hand to hold up the top of the box and he reaches forward with the other. Even though she tries Nuru can’t stop the big hand from wrapping around her arm and yanking her free from the crate. Her limbs are utterly useless to her when she’s carelessly dropped down from the back of the carriage. The landing sends a deep pain throughout her body, jostling her bones and stealing what little air she had left.

“Eh,” Another man saunters up. Now that she’s free from the box the light helps more than it hinders. The gruff, bulky one who threw her to the ground had long black hair and a well-kept beard that were both streaked with thick lines of grey and white but his companion appeared much younger with a clean face and bouncy brunette hair. They contrasted each other so starkly, one so blatantly hostile and the other boyish in comparison. “Hard enough we don’t have to worry about any of that weird, glowy shit he’s got.” Nuru tamps down her anger and focuses her energy on determining her range of motion. She should’ve done this sooner, this should’ve been the first thing she did, but despite her status she’s not well-acquainted with being kidnapped. She flexes her arms and twists her wrists, clawing at the ropes binding her hands in hopes that maybe she can reach where the knots are tied off.

The gruff man barks a laugh befitting of his title, both of their captors peering down into the box where Varian was still trapped like they were watching some sort of show in place of Varian’s suffering. Even down on the rocky ground Varian’s soft pants and murmured pleas are loud enough to spear through her heart. “Not like ‘e can reach ‘em.” They laugh like it was a good joke. Nuru has never seen the sort of evils that found satisfaction and joy in children’s suffering, such things were another far off danger that existed only at the edges of her mind, and she wants to curse them out. How can these men enjoy this? How could anyone do this?

He reaches again into the box and Nuru forces herself to focus on the task at hand. She can’t prevent these people from putting their hands on her friend but she can prioritize orchestrating their escape. The thing is. she doesn't have the slightest clue on where to start. She didn't know how to slip her binds or distract their kidnappers and she certainly doesn’t know how to keep them safe. Her fears about her fellow captive being executed have grown exponentially now that she knows it's Varian who might be killed. Yet, why would they take him at all if they were going to kill him? Her stomach flips and she swallows convulsively. Did they plan to use him to keep her in line?

The gruff man shouts suddenly and Nuru's thrown from her thoughts. She looks up in time to see the man snap his away and drop the lid back over the box. Varian lets out a grating, choked scream that's quickly muffled once his prison is firmly closed. Nuru is reminded again of his desperation to be free, a steady stream of pleas spilling from his lips the moment he awoke. That sound will haunt her for years to come. "What are you doing!" She snaps, anger flaring over her fear.

The man is staring down at his hand with gritted teeth and Nuru notices the red coating the skin between his thumb and forefinger, quickly spilling down the back of his hand to drip from his wrist. What..? "That fuckin' shit bit me," he growls, clenching his bleeding hand into a tight fist that shook with rage. By the Stars, did Varian actually—? The evidence is right in front of her. She may not be able to make out the teeth marks through the thick coat of crimson but she has no reason to deny the origin of said wound. She's glad that Varian's spirit hasn't been broken but it's surprising to her that he's resorted to something so animalistic.

This brute rips open the crate again and throws Varian out so quickly the alchemist skids across the ground, tumbling to a rough stop a few away. Nuru barely has time to cry out before the man stomps forward and delivers a swift kick to Varian's stomach, sneer on his face. He watches Varian cough and wheeze with a dark gleam in his stormy eyes. "Stop it!" Nuru tries to sound stern but she's unable to keep the panic from filtering in. She's completely ignored by all parties, both men focused on Varian— one fueled by anger and the other sickeningly amused by Varian's suffering— and Varian himself too busy being beaten. The gruff man crouches down to tangle his bloodied hand into Varian's hair, yanking him up so he could easily meet the boy's eyes. Varian has a snarl on his face, blood smeared across his teeth and foggy eyes filled with vibrant hate. Cold shock falls over Nuru like a bucket of icy water. Varian looks feral and it's dichotomous to the Varian she knows.

"You should keep yourself in line, alchemist." Nuru doesn't know why he says it with such vitriol, like to be a scientist is inherently disgusting. There's too much happening that she doesn't understand, so many pieces to the puzzle that she's missing, and the lack of knowledge only succeeds in fueling her panic. "You're expendable. Don' be more trouble ‘an you're worth. Corona might pay a heavy sum for you but not even close to how much we'll get for the princess o' Koto." Nuru's mind is spinning. Both relief and terror mix in her gut and the contradictory cocktail makes her nauseous. There's some comfort in knowing that Varian's not here to simply be used against her and that they have a stronger reason to keep him alive but there's no denying how willing they are to hurt them— hurt him. She often forgets that Varian is the Royal Engineer of Corona but she's never been more grateful for his title.

Varian isn't cowed by the threat however and promptly spits a glob of blood and saliva onto the man's face. The man gives a cry of surprise, dropping Varian roughly back to the ground so he can use his hands to wipe away the wad of pink-tinted spit crawling down his cheek. As gross as it is a vindictive smile pulls subtly at Nuru's lips. She was wrong to think that Varian was completely hopeless. Seeing him fight even while seriously wounded helps bolster her own determination. Varian isn't cowed by his position, glaring up at the man as if they weren't at a severe disadvantage here.

The gruff man turns back to the cart and grabs a long coil of thick, corded rope. He tosses it to his boyish counterpart. "Take care o' 'em," he orders stiffly, walking off towards a dilapidated shack buried a little further into the treeline. He doesn't look back, uncaring of whatever it is his partner decides to do as long as he can escape Varian's rather physical form of defiance. The remaining man rolls his eyes with a huff, starting already to uncoil the rope in his hands.

“I knew you’d be back. I just figured it might be a little harder to catch you,” Andrew coos, sharing a round of chuckles with his goons. Ugh, why were there always so many goons?

“What have you done to Varian?” Rapunzel demands, plowing right through Andrew’s irritating voice without a care in the world. She’s determined to bring attention back to the only thing that matters. Sun, Eugene loved this woman.

Andrew throws his head back with a drawn out groan. He rubs a hand down his face, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly pop from his skull. “What is with you and the kid?” It’s obviously a rhetorical question but the implication that they shouldn’t care at all about the literal abuse they just witnessed only adds to the ongoing rage that wants nothing more than to erupt from Eugene’s chest. The same anger that’s just been fueled continuously since their return to Corona has grown so large the size of it makes it hard to breathe, red constantly lining the edges of his vision. It urges him to wrap his hands around Andrew’s throat and never let go and he wants nothing more than to comply. “You leave him in prison to rot for over a year and now you wanna pretend that you’re all buddy buddy?”

Eugene bristles. “Of course we care—”

“Oh, our bad,” Someone faceless within their huddle deadpans, “Leaving a child alone in the lowest pits of the castle. How loving.” One of the brutes chortles. Eugene pushes down the flood of guilt that crashes into him in response. Regret won't do anything for him right now. He'll have plenty of time to wallow in self-pity after all of this is over and, oh, he sure intends to wallow.

Rapunzel steps forward and raises her chin. “The guards—” she protests. Eugene winces. The Saporians burst into uproarious cackles at the princess’ naivety.  

“The guards?” The short old woman is incredulous, a cruel smile on her wrinkled face that makes Rapunzel’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. Her hands curl tightly around Eugene’s bicep but she doesn’t drop her defiant expression. She won't allow them to make her feel small and despite the situation Eugene allows himself this moment of pride.

“They placed bets on whether or not the brat would live long enough for the princess to return,” Andrew tisks, shaking his head. Eugene’s pride quickly shrivels and dies. “I mean, he did commit high treason after all. Tried to kill the kingdom’s beloved queen! What a convenient outlet when the guards had some built up frustration, right? It's not like anyone cares what happens to him and he hurt them first didn’t he?” Eugene’s heart stutters. Did he? Eugene only knew bits and pieces but wasn’t it the king who sent the guards after Varian first? It wasn’t even a believable excuse regardless, Varian didn't resort to violence until the very end. Not like there’s a good excuse to beat a child!

Oh. Eugene feels sick. He doesn’t know why this is surprising him, it really shouldn’t. He knew the criminal world, he knew how ruthless Corona's guard could be. The Guard became beyond cruel after Rapunzel's initial disappearance and though she's returned the mentality amongst them haven't changed. He shouldn’t be surprised that the Royal Guard would hate Varian with such a passion after all the things the alchemist has done. Varian's list of charges was longer than Eugene's and certainly far worse in terms of severity. Still, he has to swallow the near constant bile that's been perpetually trying to escape ever since Andrew first opened his mouth.

“What did you do to Varian?” Lance growls, snapping Eugene back into the present. He’s grateful. He didn’t want to think about what Andrew was implying anymore, his mind would start spinning together increasingly brutal images if he let the thoughts linger. The brutality of law enforcement knows no bounds and that, combined with his newfound concern for Varian's well-being, makes his imagination work overtime. It's blessedly easy to instead latch onto the protective fire that sparked to life the second they heard Andrew lock Varian away in that lab. There was no wrath or bitterness in the boy then, no robots or chemicals. Eugene can still hear Varian's slew of petering apologies in his head.

Andrew huffs, “He just needed a little guidance. He was pathetic when they first threw him in with me, just needed someone to push him in the right direction." He shrugs and braces his hands on his hips, blatantly put out by his inability to pull the conversation away from the alchemist. The asshole wanted to be the center of attention but nothing about him made him worth listening to. He was just as forgettable as he was the first time Eugene met him. "He didn't have anyone left! There was a void to fill," Andrew's frown is exaggerated, playing at sympathetic. "I mean, once he got it though his thick skull that he’s only worth having around if he's useful it wasn’t hard to get him to do whatever I wanted."

"What is wrong with you," Eugene snarls. This isn't the first time he's heard this kind of vile slop, far from it. The Baron followed a similar philosophy. People like the Baron and Andrew were what helped Eugene separate himself from the lowest of the criminal underworld. He was a thief, sure, but he wasn't a villain. He had morals and a line he wouldn't cross, that wasn't true for people like Andrew.

Andrew suddenly smiles. It's an ugly thing, sharp and eager. "Sure, he needed some… encouragement along the way but what can I say?" It's uncanny. Eugene is unsettled by the pleasure Andrew is getting out of his sick charade. "Sometimes I get frustrated too."

The rage flares, rearing back like a mighty bear. It burns his discomfort to ashes that smudge along the edge of his vision, narrowing until only Andrew remains visible through the red haze. Eugene slams his gooed hands against the bars, sneering through the iron at the startled Saporian. Andrew is quick to school his expression but Eugene felt his own sick sense of satisfaction scaring the monster in front of him. He’d get out of here and, when he did, Andrew would pay for what he’s done. Eugene promised himself that he’d deliver the justice that Corona deserves; that Varian deserves. “He’s just a kid,” he seethes.

Andrew chuckles, unimpressed, “He’s a tool,” he corrected. “Wasn’t that what he was to you?”

“No!” Rapunzel cries, horrified.

“Sure. You think sharing a cell with the kid I didn’t hear his sob story? You use him for that big ol' brain of his and then look away when he’s not doing anything for you. Tossed him out into the biggest storm Corona's ever seen,” Andrew drawls out a low whistle, almost impressed, “I didn’t know you could be so cold, Princess.”

“I-I didn’t…” Rapunzel's denial faded out into a whisper drenched in such heavy guilt. There's no defense she hasn't spoken before and she's never been satisfied with any of them.

In the thick silence Eugene picks up the sound of light footsteps scuffing along the stone. It draws their back-and-forth to a close, their collection attention shifting towards the small alchemist approaching. Eugene notices immediately that the noise  starts halfway down the hall as opposed to the entrance. He had hope that Varian was eavesdropping, that maybe hearing what Andrew had to say about him would pull him further away from the man’s control. He prays that Andrew hasn’t done any damage that Eugene couldn’t undo. Sun above, he pleads as Varian finally slinks into sight. It feels like it took an eternity for the boy to actually appear. His gaze is unfocused but his head is held high, unseeing blue eyes staring through the Saporians as he shuffles to their side. Please.

“There you are, buddy.” Andrew claps a hand on Varian’s shoulder, completely ignoring the alchemist violently flinches at his touch. “You cleaned yourself up quick, huh? I’m proud of you.” Varian’s looks up so quick Eugene winces in sympathy for the kid's neck. He peers hopefully up at Andrew with wide eyes, as if the idea of being praised— being acknowledged— was foreign.  Eugene has to hold himself back from hitting the bars again. He has a feeling that he’d be scaring the kid more than the Saporian. Andrew smiles with some imitation of warmth and Varian’s lips twitch up in response. Varian being able to gloss over Andrew carving into his arm just for a little bit of compassion makes Eugene retch.

“As dramatic as always,” Andrew hums.

Varian’s eyes hesitantly move towards him. His face is pulled into a frustrated frown but Eugene sees the worried furrow in his brow alongside the calculating glint in those brilliant eyes. After everything, somehow, despite everything, Varian looks like he’s truly concerned. Eugene wants to sob and scream and pull the alchemist into a hug and smack him upside the head. The boy in front of him is such a far cry from the feared Alchemist that terrorized the kingdom. Well, terrorize feels so strong now. Varian went way too far, he hurt innocent people, he was cruel— he was angry. He was scared. Varian’s mind terrified Eugene, everything he did and everything he was capable of was horrifying, but he was a kid who was denied help. He was villainized long before he’d done any wrong. He wanted to be heard and he went about it in probably the worst possible way. He didn’t deserve to get off without consequence but he didn’t deserve this. Varian’s soft, uncertain gaze proved that the boy in front of him wasn’t just some heartless monster that went off the deep end. He was a kid who lost his way with no one to guide him back.

A kid they brushed aside and disregarded the moment he needed them but they didn't need him.

He can’t stop reminding himself that they failed Varian. Maybe just as much as Varian failed them. Maybe even more so. So much of this could have been avoided. Varian could’ve been safe right now, likely squared away with the rest of the townsfolk planning their rebellion. Actually, with Varian’s help, Eugene’s fairly confident the people would have been able to take back the throne already. The Saporians never would have gotten as far as they have without the kid.

“Varian, please.” Rapunzel steps forward, wrapping her fingers around the bars and staring through at the teenager she once called a friend. His expression shudders and he shakes his head, taking a half step back. He shuffles a little closer to Andrew. Andrew laughs in Rapunzel’s face. “Varian, you don’t have to do this.”

Varian scoffs, head ducking down so he can glare up at Rapunzel from underneath dark bangs. The shadows of the dungeon mixed with the exhaustion painted across Varian’s face make him look far, far older than he is. “Do what, Princess? Get out? Or do you mean be the villain?” Eugene can’t read his tone and that immediately sets off alarm bells. Varian says villain like it’s an accusation but none of the contempt feels like it’s pointed towards Rapunzel. “This is the only way, the only way I can fix it.” Varian sneers, teeth bared like an animal. This is the alchemist Eugene remembers seeing last. Varian was furious and distrusting and he’d do anything he had to just to  complete his goal.

“Fix what?” Eugene butts in, unable to reel back his irritation. He didn’t want to hear any more bad guy monologues. Eugene didn’t care to hear the build-up to their evil plan or the twisted justification for their actions, none of it mattered to him. As much as he wanted to get Varian out of this despicable situation he wouldn’t suddenly be open-minded about his misplaced anger and how it’s manifested into destruction.  

“Everything!” Varian yells so loud it reverberates within the dank halls. His fists are clenched and his chest heaves with the sheer power behind the emotions he must’ve been holding in for a while. “The kingdom, Old Corona, m-me, this.” He gestures wildly between himself and the group on the other side of the bars. The fury is fading and in its place there’s left only a gut-wrenching desperation. “The only way to get help is if you all forget. I can only fix everything if you don’t remember me or what I’ve done. Who I am.” Eugene doesn’t know what to make of that. He doesn’t know what Varian means when he says fix but there’s no denying the yearning to erase his past. Eugene can understand some of that.

“We don’t have to forget you to help you, little man.” Lance is looking back at Varian with soft, reassuring eyes and a smile that was warm and soothing. Varian shies away like he’s afraid. He might be. Eugene can only imagine how wary the child must be of kindness. How long has it been since Varian’s been offered true compassion without any strings attached? How many times has the kindness he’s been given had an ulterior motive or a sinister undertone? Was he like this before everything or was it Andrew who took this one excitable and passionate kid and turned him into someone who thought letting anyone in would hurt him?

“What do you mean forget?” Rapunzel murmurs, green eyes flicking from Varian to the Saporians and back again. Her soft, pink lips are pursed with confusion and the worried wrinkle in his nose would be adorable if the situation was different. “Like my parents? Varian, you can’t.” She’s trying to get Varian to look back at her but the alchemist has shrunk further into Andrew’s side. Eugene notices how Varian gets as close to Andrew as he can without making contact. Varian was tactile, probably touch-starved long before he spiraled down a dark path, but he didn’t dare allow himself to so much as brush up against the Saporian still grasping his shoulder tight.

“About that,” one of the nameless Saporians drawls.

“We were letting the kid play his little games, ya know? Unfortunately, he just can’t seem to figure out that tricky recipe of his.” Andrew finally removes his hand from Varian’s shoulder only to harshly ruffle the alchemist’s hair, practically pushing the kid over with the force of it. “Thought he was supposed to be smart but what can you do?” The belittling remark is delivered like with a comedic air and Andrew is poised like he expects mirth in return. His fellow cultists are happy to oblige but Eugene doesn’t share their sense of humor. Varian’s arms curl protectively around his middle as confusion and shame fight for dominance on his face.

“We’ve really run out of time now. With the princess back in town it’s only a matter of time before the people rise up and, really, the safety of Corona isn’t really anywhere on my priorities. Luckily for us, Varian’s little potion may not be able to erase any memories but it sure does make quite a colorful explosion.” Horror is settling in Eugene’s gut and he finds himself gaping at the terrorist as his intent starts to sink in. Varian’s face mirrors his own.

“W-what? No! That’s not what we agreed to, y-you said no one would get hurt!” Varian protests, straightening up to look at Andrew. Eugene mourns the boy’s innocence. It’s amazing how Varian still managed to take someone’s word at face value considering how slighted he felt in the past but it was his gullible mindset that led him to Andrew in the first place. Andrew looks back at Varian like he’s a pest but Varian doesn’t back down this time. “I won’t let you hurt anyone! Quirinian may be volatile but it only takes a second to neutralize it.” Eugene’s stunned by how swiftly Varian’s nerves seemed to dissipate, replaced by a bravery that Eugene wasn’t expecting. It’s unfair, he realizes seconds later, considering how much Varian has done. A coward wouldn’t be able to drug an entire castle or kidnap the queen. Varian was sensitive and small and Eugene mistook that for weakness.

Andrew growls, his hand curling into Varian’s hair so he could yank the boy’s head up. Varian yelps and Rapunzel cries his name in alarm. Andrew pulls until Varian has to get onto his toes to relieve some of the pressure. Andrew tisks and leans in to glower directly in Varian’s face, “You’d think you would’ve learned to keep all those pesky protests to yourself by now,” he scolds lowly. Varian’s hands have snapped up to grab at Andrew’s arm in a last ditch attempt to loosen the man’s grip, his face screwing up in pain. “I’m really trying here, buddy, but you’re making it pretty difficult not to punish you.” Varian whimpers, promptly biting his lip to contain the sound.

This time Eugene doesn’t hold back as he attacks the bars once more, using the hardened quality of the goo to his advantage and throwing all of his strength behind the swing, “What is wrong with you!” He pours every ounce of loathing in his body into his words, kicking at the bars and relishing in the ache that bounces up his leg. It’s grounding, a twisted form of release for all the turmoil drawing his every muscle tight.

Andrew throws Varian back into the arms of one of his waiting lackeys, staring down his nose at the alchemist while Varian’s arms are easily pulled behind his back by the brute. Varian actually tries to get out of the large man’s grip, wriggling despite how useless it was given his captor’s sheer size compared to Varian’s thin frame. With every particularly strong jerk Varian winces, pulling at the fresh wound hidden beneath his sleeve. The pain doesn’t do anything to slow his struggles. Eugene remembers this kid being unable to stomach even the sight of blood, passing out at even a glimpse of red, and yet he’s throwing his all into trying to escape the Saporian’s hold.

Andrew looms in silence, expression unreadable as he watches. It’s starting to give Eugene the creeps. He growls, frustrated and entirely useless. A large hand appears on his shoulder. A glance back reveals Lance hovering at his side. He shrugs off the support. He appreciates the attempt, really he does, but the contact makes his skin crawl. Lance won’t be offended, he knows Eugene better than most. His longest friend only responds with a quiet understanding.

A strangled whine has Eugene snapping his head back to the Saporians. Andrew has a tight grip on Varian’s face, tilting the alchemist’s head up at an uncomfortable angle so their eyes could meet. The way Varian’s neck is strained makes his breaths come out in staccato huffs but even through eyes pooling with tears Varian glares back. “Will you stop fighting me?” Andrew pulls Varian closer and Varian wheezes.

Rapunzel inhales sharply. When Eugene turns to her she’s clasping her hands over her chest, bright green eyes growing wet and unfocused. Eugene’s unsure of what’s happening for only a brief moment before a dark memory squirms free. He knows what she’s thinking of. Those last moments with Gothel, when that nasty woman was ready to keep Rapunzel prisoner for the rest of her life— the rest of forever— just to hoard her youth. She’d said the same thing when the young princess was fighting to get to Eugene’s side. Rapunzel’s been where Varian is now, giving everything she has to protect someone even if it was at her own expense. She comes back to herself quickly. “He’s not your property!” She snaps with an aborted step forward, wanting more than anything to do something but unable to do anything.

Andrew lets Varian go, practically throwing the teenager back into his handler’s arms. Eugene watches intently as Varian gasps in full breaths occasionally broken up by weak coughs. For the first time since they descended into the dungeons they're all silent and it allows Eugene to pick up some sort of clinking that’s coming from somewhere down the corridor. A smirk spreads across Andrew’s face. “I would beg to disagree, your Highness,” Andrew runs a hand through Varian’s hair, combing fingers through the tangles he caused with a poor imitation of care. Varian goes still beneath his touch. Eugene doesn’t even think the kid is breathing. “I’d say he belongs to me.”

Eugene tries in vain to break the hardened chemical binding his arms, pulling against the unconventional binds with all his might. It’s probably good that he can’t in all actuality. If he could use his hands he knows he'd recklessly pull his lock picks from his pocket and immediately try to escape right in front of the enemy. It’s completely idiotic and he knows better but he can’t bear to stand here any longer and do nothing, even if nothing is the best course of action right now. The clinking is drawing closer and it prods at a part of Eugene’s brain. He knows that sound intimately. He notes that it appears Varian does too. The kid squeaks and his struggles start anew with an almost violent fervor much more frantic than before, fueled by fear.

“Wait,” Varian grunts, yanking so hard against the hold on his arms that Eugene worries he might manage to dislocate a shoulder if he kept going. “Andrew, don’t.” Varian somehow keeps his firm composure even though Eugene has seen first hand how scared of Andrew he could be along with just what Andrew was willing to do to him when he stepped out of line. Eugene doesn’t understand what Andrew’s planning. He still can’t place why it is he knows the menacing rattle so well. He’s clawing at his memories in hopes to dig up what he’s missing and it's right on the tip of his tongue. He can guess that this isn’t the first time Andrew’s done this to keep Varian obedient if the way that Varian is trying to escape is any indication. That only serves to exacerbate Eugene’s urgency.

As the heavy clinks finally arrive with them comes a Saporian holding a thick set of shackles. Ah, well, that would certainly explain his familiarity. There weren’t that many Saporians but he hadn’t noticed her departure. She must have left when Eugene was too busy screaming at Man Bun to pay the rest of them any mind. Varian makes a strangled noise deep in the back of his throat and starts thrashing, animalistic fear glazing over blue eyes. As wild as he is, Varian can’t keep them from clasping the cuffs securely around his wrists. He’s easily overpowered by the multiple adults who are way too happy to manhandle Varian into the restraints, laughing all the while as the alchemist puts up a fruitless fight.

“What are you doing to him?” Lance demands but it seems the Saporians have lost all interest in their prisoners now that they were secured within a cell. “Hey!” The Saporians don’t so much as look towards the cell, content to completely ignore Lance and his growing complaints. That means all they can do is watch and pray to the Sun that whatever is about to happen won’t be too horrible. It's the same as it was before, they couldn't risk their one shot as a quick escape just to keep Varian safe. Eugene made that mistake once already and it led them right to this torturous situation.

The brute releases Varian now that he doesn’t have to manually restrain him. Varian nearly trips over his own feet when his attempts to get free suddenly send him right into Andrew. The Saporian ruffles Varian’s hair with the same ferocity and chuckles darkly when the alchemist attempts to shake black and teal strands from his eyes. Beneath the tangled mess red crawls up Varian’s neck and stains his cheeks, embarrassment rising all the way to the tips of his ears. The lot of them all merrily join in, pushing the alchemist this way and that between them while they cackle. They watch hungrily as Varian stumbles and squirms, nothing but a plaything to the predators toying with him.  

“Stop!” Rapunzel demands but her voice wavers. She knows at this point that they won’t listen but she still tries. If anything the emotion behind her attempt spurs the Saporians on.

Andrew abruptly reaches out, grabs Varian by the bicep, and yanks. Eugene only realizes when Varian cries out that it’s his injured arm. When was it enough? The kid was hurt enough, he didn’t need every touch to be some sort of pain. Varian barely keeps his feet under him as he’s pulled further down the hall with Andrew’s loyal followers tailing after them. No matter how much their group calls and shouts they don’t get any sort of response from the Saporians. Eugene’s chest feels tight, even tighter than it has this whole time, and his breaths are becoming shorter and quicker. His lungs strain against the emotional pressure closing in on them and Eugene feels like he's going to choke.

Varian’s protests are still loud, his voice bounces off the stone and echos back towards their cell. Even with the tinge of humiliation the alchemist doesn’t stutter. He’s strong in the face of Andrew’s threat towards the kingdom, firm in his stance against leveling all of Corona, and despite his bravery it just adds another thing to the concerningly long list of things about Varian that are concerning. Eugene thought that Andrew tore all the fight from the rambunctious teen but he's getting an earful of that rebellion right now. If Varian was still willing to fight for the kingdom that meant that before he just wasn't willing to fight for himself. Eugene wishes the kid would just shut up. He’s relieved that Varian didn’t actually want to hurt anyone but with every snippy remark that leaves the kid's lips he’s digging himself a deeper and deeper hole.

A decent distance down the corridor a cell gate swings open on rusty hinges. It doesn't sound too far away but it's hard to tell with how sound transfers down here. The muted thump of Varian hitting the ground is accented with a pained grunt. Eugene is straining to hear what’s going on, positioning his ears towards the bars and sharing worried looks with his fellow prisoners. He doesn’t dare breathe. Rapunzel is looking at him with wide eyes that silently ask him for reassurances he doesn't have. He looks back at her in hopes that if nothing else she can find comfort in him. Luckily the noise echos off the stone and amplifies the commotion so it’s easier to pick up on what’s happening. Alternatively, they also have to hear what’s happening.

“Damnit, kid, when will you learn to shut up,” Andrew growls. Varian says something that Eugene didn't quite catch before Andrew yelps. There’s a loud scuffle from a collection of boots and startled shouts, Varian yelling wordlessly. Eugene grits his teeth against a swell of profanities, far more invested in paying attention than cursing the Saporians out.

“Fuck you,” Varian bites. Eugene doesn’t know why the word choice shocks him. The kid was in prison, after all. With everything that must have happened to him down in these very dungeons it’d be more unbelievable if he wasn’t throwing out curses here and there. Still, it’s hard to picture the bright-eyed boy he met in Old Corona dropping a swear so casually.

“Fine. You know I don’t mind doing things the hard way.” Oh Eugene hated the sound of that. Something must show on his face because Rapunzel pales significantly and surges forward to grab at the bars, pulling on each one in search for a weak spot or a loose hinge or anything. Eugene swallows thickly and looks to Lance. His best friend only hopelessly stares back, stress scrunching his smooth features. “Grab him.” Varian yells, the sounds of struggle increasing tenfold. Eugene’s heart jumps into his throat when he hears fabric ripping.

“Get away from him you worthless bastards!” Lance's mind goes down the same path as Eugene's, both of them well aware of the most vile kind of men, and he throws the weight of his body against the gate.  Though it rattles it doesn’t so much as budge from where it's anchored firmly into the rock. Eugene’s mind can’t help but jump to the worst case scenario and Varian is so young—

“Don’t, okay— I can be quiet I swear.” One of the women shouts and something hits the wall. Varian yelps. Someone hits the wall. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again. Stop—” Varian’s voice cuts off abruptly and Eugene can’t hear what’s happening anymore over the loud beat of his heart throbbing in his ears. No one says anything, Eugene doesn’t think any of them have any words left. He squeezes his eyes shut when muffled whimpers and whines come from down the hall, drowned out by mocking jabs and hissed threats. He despises how Varian being hurt has become a regular event, a repeated pastime that only grows more common the longer they're around the kid. The only way Eugene can keep himself together is picturing Andrew in increasing violent scenarios, all of which end in agonizing death. Each and every idea is far too merciful. Tears are building beneath Eugene's eyelids and no matter how hard he squeezes them shut a couple tears still escape and cling to his eyelashes.

"You've been so good lately." Andrew's bitter rumble echoes like a church bell in Eugene's ears, unbearably loud and inescapable. An impact, a soft oomph. "I thought for a second that maybe you were finally starting to get it." A keening protest, more boots scuffing across the hard stone accompanied by the gentle rattle of chains. A round of laughter that makes Eugene's ears ring. "We expected you to get better, buddy. Now at the first sign of trouble you want to double cross us?" Eugene can't hear Varian over the grumbles of the other Saporians, throwing in their own two cents and spurring Andrew on. A muffled scream rises over the cacophony and crashes down on Eugene like a tidal wave.

He doesn’t know if he zoned out or if only a few moments have passed but Varian’s soft cries don’t last long. Thank the Sun it’s over. He gasps a shaky inhale and blinks rapidly, his heart heavy when he comes back to himself enough to notice Rapunzel’s tear-stained face and Lance’s distant eyes. He slinks towards his girlfriend and presses himself awkwardly against her side, hooking his chin over her head to offer the best comfort he can. She’s more than happy to cuddle closer, burying her face into his shoulder and quickly soaking the sleeve of his undershirt.

Eugene’s glares daggers at the Saporians when they come back into view, grinding his teeth together and snarling when Andrew waggles his fingers in a smug little wave. The lot of them are chatting like a bunch of buddies on their way to the tavern as if they weren't just tormenting a teenage boy. Lance doesn’t hesitate to spit through the bars, expertly landing a glob of saliva on Man Bun’s shoe. Andrew’s face twists into a disgusted sneer and he stomps away in a huff, wise enough not to open their cell to retaliate. Even with their arms bound Lance and Eugene would happily bludgeon the man to death if they could, consequences be damned. Even with Rapunzel's sunshiny disposition he has a feeling she'd join in.

It’s agony waiting for the sound of the dungeon’s entrance closing behind the Separatists but they don't dare move too soon. They couldn't screw this up, their freedom and Varian's safety were hanging delicately in the balance and they needed to tip things in their favor. The second the heavy door slams shut at the end of the hall Rapunzel springs away to untie Lance’s hands. Andrew may have captured them but he hadn’t really thought it through. He was far too confident in himself and, in turn, apparently forgot that Lance was just as skilled a lock pick as Eugene.

“Okay! Game plan.” Eugene claps his hands together, ignoring the irritated glances he got from some of the townsfolk lingering in the basement. It was painfully early, the sun was surely still hidden beneath the horizon outside, but they didn’t have time to waste. Besides, the wee hours were prime crime time. “We can get in the same way we did yesterday but now that they know we’re here we can’t be taking risks. We need to take our time, try to memorize any patrols they might have circling before we make our move. This is too important to just rush in.” Eugene wasn’t taking any chances, he still can’t get Varian’s sobs out of his head. He hasn’t been able to shake the guilt, mind turning over all of the events that led to Varian’s actions all throughout the night while he tried in vain to get some sleep. The kid was in the wrong, obviously— he tried to kill people— but now with hindsight Eugene can see that none of them were as innocent as he initially thought. He’d completely dismissed Varian as a ruthless, irredeemable monster and maybe he was but the way Varian begged to be let out— the way that Andrew so casually threatened him and then tried to act like it was Varian’s fault. No one deserves to be treated like that.

Rapunzel is staring at him like he strung up the stars in the sky just for her and he smiles softly at this gorgeous princess he was so lucky to call his. “What’s up, Sunshine?”

Rapunzel’s eyes widen and her cheeks stain a light pink, “Oh, um,” she stammers, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of gold back behind her hear, “I’ve just never seen you like this before.”

Eugene can’t help the teasing smile that spreads smoothly across his face, eyes shining with barely contained amusement, “Well, I could always go back to a life of crime if that’s what you’re into.” He leans forward, dipping into her space, not missing how the color in her cheeks grows darker even as she fondly rolls her eyes and playfully pushes his shoulder.

“Not very becoming of a princess,” she retorts with a matching mischief now shining in her eyes.

“Maybe not.” Eugene shrugs, straightening up. “I don’t think a girl from a tower would mind though.”

Rapunzel’s face softens, unabashed love defining her round features. “No, I don’t think she would.” Lance coos, hands clasped together by his face, and Eugene glares at his best friend for ruining the moment. Rapunzel giggles, delicate fingers hovering over her mouth, and Eugene can’t help but pout at the light of his life. She simply grins back with mock innocence.

Eugene rolls his eyes, “Anyway, the point is that we need to do some reconnaissance before we can actually do anything. We don’t have the luxury of taking chances.” There was a whole kingdom at stake, thousands of lives in danger. They couldn’t afford to make any wrong moves. Eugene’s made mistakes on heists and some of those failures haunt him even as far as a decade later, he bears the marks some of those failures gouged in his body. Eugene couldn’t risk that, wouldn't, not with Rapunzel at his side.

Rapunzel is still so innocent, so naive. Even through the hardships she’s pushed through she can’t comprehend the horrors that Eugene’s lived through. She nods with that iron determination of hers and Eugene knows he will fight at her back until he couldn’t anymore. “Let’s go.” She’s eager to help, antsy being stuck in this basement with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and catastrophize. For someone raised in such a small tower she’s terrible at sitting still. Actually, that’s probably why—

“We’re right behind you, princess.” Lance stands, his warm expression steeling in the face of their mission. Eugene has never been so grateful to have Lance at his side. Armed with nothing but their wits, a few swords, and a frying pan they creep back onto the streets of Corona and towards the castle. They have one shot, one opening before things might descend into unpredictable madness, and Eugene was determined not to screw this up. For Rapunzel, for himself, for Varian.

___

The halls are still awfully empty and Eugene doesn’t trust it for a second. Given, the sun is just barely starting to rise and the sky hasn’t even began to shine with hues of orange yet. It’s terrible how no amount of experience makes a stakeout any less boring. Eugene’s already feeling impatient and they’ve basically just got here. It’s a blessing that all of them are used to dangling out of windows though or else this whole plan would’ve been a lot harder. They’ve been clinging to a rope hooked onto the windowsill closest to Varian’s room— Lab? Prison?— for maybe ten minutes now and had Rapunzel been literally anyone else he imagines she would have grown tired.

Eugene immediately regrets hoping something would happen when he hears light footsteps approaching, a merry whistle following that makes his blood boil. There’s no question as to who exactly is coming down to this side of the castle and Eugene clenches the rope in his hands with a white knuckled grip. Andrew stops right by the window— right by where Varian’s being kept. A quick glance down shows him Lance’s face twisted with similar anger and Rapunzel’s eyes wide with fear. They couldn’t move yet, they couldn’t just jump into action because Andrew’s back to torment the kid a little, as much as he wanted to pull Varian out of the dark he’s not worth risking everything. The door unlocks. Eugene’s thoughts stumble to a halt as all of his attention snaps to whatever was about to happen.

“Hey buddy.” Andrew pushes the door open, playing the role of concerned caretaker with a practiced proficiency. Eugene’s stomach churns and he clenches his jaw. All his muscles are tight with tension and they only get increasingly stiff the longer he has to listen to this. “I stopped by a little early, didn’t want to leave you in here too long.” They can’t.

Eugene has to strain his ears to hear Varian, the writhing in his stomach increasing to a near-painful level when he catches what he thinks is a hitching gasp, “Andrew,” Varian breathes. He sounds painfully young. He’s just fifteen, he’s just a boy. Eugene thinks Varian might just sound relieved to see the older terrorist and that makes him physically sick. Older terrorist. Varian is also a terrorist. He's young but he's capable of horrible, violent things and Eugene cannot prioritize him over all of Corona.

“I’m here, don’t worry. You know I wouldn’t just leave you behind, right?” Andrew’s act falters— drops, his fake reassurances tainted by an underlying anger.

“Y-yeah, of course,” Varian stutters out. He doesn’t allow the question to linger in the air for even a second before he’s rushing to appease Andrew. It doesn't sound like the first time that Andrew's asked that question and Varian clearly learned the correct response. He doesn’t sound like he actually believes the Saporian and, guiltily, Eugene is glad for that. If Varian knows Andrew doesn’t actually care about him, if he’s afraid of Andrew, it should be a lot easier to get Varian to cooperate with them instead.

“Good.” Andrew’s not even trying to hide how pleased he is by Varian’s response. So openly conceited with how Varian’s so quick to fall in line. Eugene waits with bated breath for whatever’s next. The direction this interaction is going is already making his hair stand on end and he’s wary of Andrew’s manipulative approach. The man is going to try something and he’s done nothing to convince Eugene that it won’t end in anything but pain for the alchemist. “So, I told you I needed that solution of yours finished today, didn’t I? You see, unfortunately we’ve had to speed up our plans so I’m here for the finished product.” Oh shit.

“I—” Varian chokes, his next inhale audibly catching in his throat. Eugene can clearly imagine the panic settling upon the face still rounded by lingering baby fat. “I’m sorry, I thought I had more time!” Andrew scoffs and his footsteps are heavy as he stomps further into the room, Varian’s boots scrambling back in time with each step. Something tugs gently on his pant leg and Eugene looks down to see Pascal clinging to his heel. Rapunzel is staring at him with pleading eyes but he shakes his head in response, stiffly turning away when she glares back up at him so he can pretend he doesn't notice. Nothing's even happened to the kid yet. So what he's scared? Varian's feelings definitely aren't worth letting their plans go up in flames.

“You’ve had plenty of time buddy,” Andrew snarls. The cacophony of glass shattering and heavy tools falling to the stone floor rings unbearably loud in the tranquil dawn, startling Eugene so bad he nearly loses his grip. “I warned you. You should know better by now.” Varian is stumbling over useless pleas, throwing out apologies in a frantic attempt to convince Andrew to reconsider his wrath. Eugene feels the burn of bile at the back of his throat. “I don’t want to do this but there is way that things are done. You know that, don't you? You're one of us, right?” He’s a lying bastard and Eugene wants nothing more in the moment to run him through and watch him choke on his own blood. Twist the blade and make him squirm the same way Varian no doubt was.

“Andrew, wait— I’m sorry, it’s almost done I swear! I’ve almost got it, I thought I had a few more hours, please—!” Varian's voice is getting higher as he despairs. Something slams onto what must be a metal table by the way it reverberates off the walls and Varian shouts. Eugene can still hear boots scuffing the floors, kicking out, but now their unable to go anywhere. He listens with a heavy heart to the heels sliding uselessly across the ground underlined but Varian's quieting begging. He’s climbing further up the rope before he can even process what he’s doing. This is stupid, he shouldn’t be risking getting caught like this, they didn’t have any new information and they were running out of time before Andrew’s next move— Varian shrieks and suddenly nothing else matters.

Eugene vaults over the lip of the window with ease, rushing forward with long strides before bursting through the open door into the room. He sees Andrew with a bruising hold on Varian’s forearm, pressing the limb with unnecessary force into a long metal table settled against the back wall. The surface is empty, glass shards, metal bits, and chemicals alike scattered all across the floor. Eugene can infer that all the noise from before was the Saporian sweeping all the supplies off the table to make room for whatever fucked up shit he was doing. Probably another fucked up scare tactic. Eugene was familiar with his type.

Varian has tears in his eyes he’s clearly fighting back, his hand pressed against Andrew’s shoulder like he wants to push the man away. Thing is, he's not putting up any fight. Varian's fingers fist into the fabric of Andrew's shirt but he doesn’t push. His large eyes snap to Eugene and, somehow, widen even further while his once-tanned skin pales considerably more. He looks sickly, the deepest eye bags Eugene’s ever seen sunken into his skin. He can’t see whatever Andrew’s doing with how the man is bent over Varian’s arm, back to the doorway, but the boy’s face twists into a pained grimace when Andrew’s arm carefully shifts so it’s obvious he’s doing something. Varian squirms, gloved hand gripping tightly at Andrew’s sleeve, but still he does nothing to escape. He’s just taking it. After everything Eugene’s heard between the two he can only imagine how Andrew tore the defiance from the prideful and determined alchemist he’d known. He doesn’t really want to imagine what Andrew had to do to rip the spirit from a child whose desperation-fueled tantrum nearly felled a whole kingdom.

“Let the kid go!” Eugene snarls, reaching for the sword Xavier supplied him hung at his belt, unsheathing the weapon with the satisfyingly smooth grate of metal against metal. The noise alone makes him feel more secure. The hilt of the blade is wrapped in sturdy leather and it reminds him that he’s able to fight back. He doesn’t have to stand there, helpless to do anything but watch. He hears Rapunzel gasp behind him but he doesn’t risk take his eyes off the grown man hurting this fifteen-year-old boy. Boy. Boy. Boy. Now that it feels painfully too late Eugene can’t unsee Varian’s youth. Tears are clinging onto the alchemist’s eyelashes for dear life but said boy himself looks too petrified by their sudden and violent presence to try and hold them back any longer. Before long fat droplets are rolling down his face and dripping from his chin, only accentuating how young and small he is.

Andrew shifts. Eugene sees the gleam of a knife and the ruffle of Varian’s jacket from where it’s pulled up. It’s not hard to put the pieces together. The nauseating anxiety is quickly spiraling into a burning rage, pumping through his veins and fueling his determination to get the alchemical terrorist out of here. The Saporian barks laugh, the arm holding the blade slashing down as he spins to greet the intruders. Varian screams, scampering back when Andrew finally lets him go and quickly slapping a hand over whatever wound the asshole just left behind. Blood is already shining on the leather between Varian’s fingers but Eugene focuses on that fact it hasn’t started bubbling through yet. Deep, probably, but not immediately lethal. Andrew doesn’t even bother to look over to the boy, holding his hand up to Varian with his palm out. “Stay,” he commands like he was talking to a dog. Varian bites his lip and ducks his head, glare forming on his face, but he doesn’t protest. It takes all of Eugene’s willpower to hold himself together.

“He’s not an animal!” Rapunzel snaps, utterly disgusted, and Eugene widens his stance when he hears Lance draw his own blade. He doesn’t have to look to know that Rapunzel has her frying pan poised expertly in her hands.

Andrew scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously here just to defend the kid?” Varian whimpers, curling further into himself and squeezing his eyes shut like if he tried hard enough he could just make himself disappear. “Bold move, really, just running in.”

“We won’t just let you torture him.” Lance’s friendly demeanor is gone, a deep and harsh tone in its place that speaks to how his friend was so successful as a criminal.

Andrew frowns and shakes his head, that damn sympathetic voice easily slotting back into place, “No, no, that’s not it at all.” His wounded tone is overdone dramatically. He places a hand over his chest to give off the impression that he’s truly and deeply offended despite the cruel smirk plastered on his stupid face. This time he does look over his shoulder, sparing a glance back at a trembling Varian and letting his smirk soften into something that could almost be genuine if his eyes weren’t darkened possessively. “Right, buddy?” His act isn’t necessary, Varian doesn’t so much as open his eyes when he gives a defeated nod. “I don’t wanna hurt him, he knows that. He just needs to carry his own around here.”

“So you cut him?” Rapunzel hisses with a familiar fury that promises vengeance. Slash feels more accurate here. Gauge. Lacerate. Mutilate. Torture.

Andrew tisks, “He has to learn.”

Eugene bristles, “Why you—?” he takes a step forward, raising his sword as he prepares to lunge at the Saporian, but he aborts his attack quickly when he hears Lance shout followed by his sword dropping to the floor. Before he even has a chance to spin all the way around Rapunzel similarly cries out and her frying pan falls with a hollow thunk that mirrors how Eugene’s stomach plummets. The other Saporians have flooded into the room, two restraining Lance while another holds Rapunzel by the arm while hovering a knife terribly close to her throat. Her very important, needs-to-stay-intact-to-live throat.

“Careful now, Rider, I think you may have found yourself in a bit of a situation.” Andrew is as smug as ever and for the briefest moment Eugene truly considers ignoring the warning and continuing with his initial plan to run the bastard through. Lance winces behind him as his arms are manhandled into a particularly awkward position and Eugene soon slumps in defeat. He drops his sword and raises his hands up beside his head in surrender, glaring back at Andrew’s content expression with all the fury that could fit within his body. “Good job.” Andrew twists, turning his back to his enemy just to rub salt in the wound. He whistles that same tune from before and Eugene abruptly realizes that the jaunty melody was a cover for the other Separatists to follow him without being known. He’d never expected any sort of intelligence from this man and now that was coming back to bite all of them in the butt.

Andrew steps in front of Varian and the boy’s head raises, his grip tightens over his wound and makes him cringe. He waits, not saying a word, but his expression is schooled and there’s a hard steel in his eyes. Eugene wants to say it’s because the kid is trying to put up a fight, show Andrew that he was still his own person regardless of his compliance, but Eugene knows it’s probably Varian masking his weakness in the face of the man who hurts him. It’s so, so familiar. Eugene thinks of the Baron with a guilty heart and dark memories. He can’t deny the strange pride he feels when Varian stands his ground and meets Andrew’s gaze head-on. He shouldn’t feel proud of the boy who tried to take over the Kingdom— twice? Eugene honestly isn’t sure if he’s willing to count Varian in this whole Saporian takeover— and kill his girlfriend. He’s coming to terms with the fact that he can’t stop himself from feeling the way he does about the kid no matter how hard he tries to hold on to his resentment.

Eugene can’t see Andrew’s face anymore but he can still see Varian’s. The kid’s expression wavers, unmistakable fear flickers briefly over the steel before he reels himself back in. Still, he ducks his head in submission. Varian looks angry, biting his lip to keep himself from either saying something or crying, and Eugene wants to shake the kid. Could he not see how fucked up this was? How little control he had? From where Eugene is standing, Varian is just as much a victim of the Saporians as the rest of Corona.

“You can handle that, right?” Andrew practically purrs and Eugene resists the urge to curl his hands into fists just in case someone mistook his rage for the intent to act. He knew better than to try and attack but he needed somewhere to focus his anger. He settles for curling his toes tightly within the confines of his boots instead. Varian’s head barely dips in a nod. “Good, we have to escort our guests down to their room. Don’t take too long, bud, we’ll need you.” Eugene can’t tell if Varian huffs a breath of relief or an aborted sob but regardless of which it is the sound ties his guts into knots.

Eugene despises how pleased this asshole is with himself and how well he can get Varian to obey. Andrew reaches towards Varian and scoffs when the alchemist jerks back. He grasps one of the glowing pink orbs from the bandolier across Varian’s chest. “What—?” Varian breathes but quickly snaps his mouth shut at a stern look from Andrew.