angst and i have chemistry

Night falls over them like a blanket. 

Varian doesn’t let them stop walking for a good hour. It feels cruel to push his boyfriend this hard; Hugo’s been struggling since ten minutes into the hike, his chest spasming as he gasped for breath and his grip going scarily weak. But they can’t stop. Not if they want a fighting chance.

So Varian pushes them forward. The path is barely visible, barely even a path. Probably one made by rabbits or deer running through the woods as opposed to human intervention. All the better. It means they’re less likely to be followed. Varian’s body aches with the effort of half-carrying his boyfriend through the thick brush, but the other option is to ditch Hugo and leave him to be bear food, which is not fucking happening. Not today.

Eventually their pace slows to a crawl, and Varian admits defeat. Hugo’s basically hanging off him, half dead. A peek down to his leg shows unfavorable results through torn fabric. He needs medical attention, even Varian’s surface knowledge, if he wants to start to heal. Or at the very least some kind of pain killer because yeouch.

They walk for another few minutes until Varian finds their salvation. An abandoned hunting cabin, one overgrown with weeds and moss. The windows are long since cracked but the door looks solid enough, and the stone and wood of the walls are in well enough condition; basically it won’t collapse on them in the middle of the night, and Varian will call it a win.

He shuffles them both forward and to the door. Hugo takes a grateful seat on a nearby overturned barrel as Varian presses against the door and eventually manages to shoulder it open. It swings on creaking hinges, reluctant and loud like a ornery cat. Hugo’s heavy breathing makes it obvious he’s not really ready to move yet, so Varian makes his way inside alone—and thank the Sun, it’s not a total dump inside.

Though there’s a slight hole in the thatched roof the inside is dry and relatively clean. Dusty as all hell, but nothing that will kill them. It’s been cleaned out of furniture and the like, but there’s a few odds and ends strewn about, and the fireplace is still intact. Hell, he even discovers a few matches, long abandoned on the mantle. It’s shaping up to be a good enough spot to camp out for the night. Varian will fucking take it.

They haven’t quite dried out yet. Varian’s boots still squelch on the dusty floorboards. They’ll need a fire sooner rather than later—and thankfully in a house like this they’ll be harder to spot from a distance. Mistaken for locals, surely. Hopefully. Maybe.

But first, he has to get his accident prone boyfriend out of the woods. Literally and figuratively.

Hugo somehow looks worse when Varian emerges from the cabin. He’s pale, shuddering in the evening chill. Fuck.

“Hey, love,” Varian says softly. “I know, you’re tired, can you stand for me? I want to get you inside.”

The blond whines but he does stand, swaying like he’s drunk and completely keeping weight off his one leg. That’s not a good sign. Varian forces himself to keep the nerves off his face—gotta pretend to be strong, Hugo can’t see Varian freaking out or he’ll also start freaking out—and guides Hugo in to sit in front of the fireplace. His boyfriend gasps as he sits, obviously in pain, but once he’s on the floor he flops right down onto his back.

Varian’s mouth flattens as he strokes Hugo’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. The chill coming from that pale skin is another worrying development. Being sick this far away from civilization… not great. The logical part of Varian knows it’s shock—chills, sweat, dizziness, fatigue, and irregular breathing—but that doesn’t make the fretful part of him any less concerned.

He needs—he needs to do something. Complete a task. Anything to make him feel like progress is being made.

“I’m going to go get wood,” he says softly. Hugo’s dazed eyes blink open, and a lopsided smile creeps across his face.

“What, without me?”

Ah. Okay so apparently Hugo can’t feel that badly. “Yes, you dingus,” Varian can’t keep the amused lilt out of his voice, “since you’re the one who belly-flopped from twenty feet high.”

Hugo grins despite how sick he looks. “I think it was at least fifty.”

“If it were fifty you’d be dead.”

“Not with my sexy, handsome lifeguard there to pull me out of the water. Maybe next time he’ll give me mouth to mouth.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “Next time I’m leaving you in the river.”

Hugo lets his head fall back. Varian takes the time to shrug his vest off and fold it into a rough version of a pillow with deft movements. He lifts Hugo’s head with gentle hands and slips the folded vest under to act as support. The blond only smiles softly, looking at the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t leave all this behind.”

The alchemist smiles. “I wouldn’t. But we do need firewood. And willow bark if I can find it. Keep out of trouble until I get back?”

Hugo gestures to his leg with a sassy wave. This fucker. Varian gently flicks his ear and stands. He leaves the cabin, making sure that the door will stay closed in his absence, and wanders off into the woods.

He has a lot to do, and not a lot of daylight to get it done. Varian will need to hustle—hopefully Hugo will behave while he’s gone…

On second thought.

Varian picks up his pace and starts into the woods.

———  ✧  ———

Hugo’s not fucking happy. Not even close. Even if his leg wasn’t fifty shades of fucked up right now he’d be pissed.

The second Varian leaves the abandoned cabin he shoots up into a sitting position and starts grabbing at his pocket. Oh Maker, please let it still be in there. If the ring fell out during their little dip Hugo’s going to absolutely lose his shit. The room spins from the quick movement but he can’t find it within him to care.

Thankfully the slight bulge of the box is still there. He pulls it out from his pocket with shaking hands. Thank fuck. It’s a little drenched and the crushed velvet of the box might be worse for wear, but Varian won’t care about that. So long as the precious cargo within is in one piece.

When he cracks it open the ring glints in the rising moonlight. It’s such a relief to see it, he’d been so worried… fucking hell. Hugo can’t help but stare at it, reiterating that it’s okay, he hadn’t lost it in the current. It’s not like he could have checked it until his boyfriend wandered off somewhere else and left him some privacy.

But it’s here. He’d kept it safe. With that reassurance Hugo tucks it safely away—you never know when Varian will make a reappearance after all. Wouldn’t that just be the little brown top hat being worn by the all singing, all dancing shit show that the day had become, getting caught with the ring after they’d both nearly drowned trying to escape terrorists.

Hugo lets out an exasperated grunt as his leg flairs. Hell, can today get any worse? He’d been so close to finally asking, to getting his answer after nearly a month of panicking and of course someone just had to roll up and absolutely ruin the day.

He’d been so ready. That’s the worst part of all this in Hugo’s mind—he’d been ready, had swallowed back the fear and the anxiety and the apprehension, and he’d still gotten fucked in the end.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. Today was supposed to be good, it was supposed to be a nice day for them both. Instead their friends were gone, they’d plummeted off a cliff, and Hugo’s leg is turning a startling shade of purple. It makes him want to fucking throw something.

His attention snaps to movement in the corner. For just a moment he feels a pulse of fear—he’s not exactly able to defend himself out here—but when a small, furry lump hops out of a little hole he relaxes. Hell, he’s so jumpy.

“Hey little guy,” he coos to the mouse. It tilts its wee head, curious. Hugo holds out a hand in offering; he’d always been partial to mice, living or mechanical. That’s why he’d made Olivia after all. The little squeaker shuffles closer, curiously sniffing his finger. It’s a tiny grey mouse, can’t be more than a juvenile, but a friendly face is a friendly face.

“I bet you’re having a better day than I am,” Hugo jokes. “Tried to bag me a fiancé and ended up with a busted leg. Just try and top that—wait, I guess mice don’t have weddings, huh?”

The image in his brain of Olivia in a tiny top hat and a bow-tie is adorable. He might have to look into that on a future date. For now however he’s forced to sit and wait, hoping that Varian doesn’t run into trouble out there. The shorter alchemist’s always been the more competent of them, much as Hugo hates to admit it, but no amount of smart will do much against a bear.

The mouse lets out another squeak. Hugo smiles and wiggles his fingers, laughing when the mouse paws at them.

“I guess I was just hoping for one good day.” He’s not sure why he’s telling the little rodent this. Maybe Varian’s right and he could do with some therapy. Not that he’ll ever admit it. No, the mouse is just a good conversationalist of course. They don’t talk back. They just listen. It’s nice.

The critter squeaks again. Hugo sighs. “I don’t know why I hoped either. Things have never worked out for either of us. There was the time with the trials… and Donella. Or Varian’s mum. Things just kind of go wrong with us.” He sniffs, looking away. “Is this an omen? Like a don’t get married, it’ll end in tears kind of warning? The Maker’s never been one to send signs.” The mouse nips at his fingers playfully. “Heh. What do you think little buddy? Are we cursed?”

The mouse accepts as Hugo pets the top of its head with a finger. Olivia loves that spot too. Shit, he hopes she’ll be okay in the castle. Ruddiger’s back there too, but if Hugo never makes it back no one will know how to perform her maintenance. She’s delicate.

“I thought maybe today would go well. Like a new page in the book, you know?” He shudders, though the chill seems to come from within. He feels off center, lopsided and sick—and cold, so fucking cold. He’d almost think it was winter with how his blood runs with ice.

Things have thankfully stopped spinning at least. He’s felt like this before—shock, rough and callous in his bones—but if he didn’t know better he’d think he has a fever. The shivering, the dry mouth, the headache from the adrenaline, it’s all there. Even worse is the strange back pain, one that shows up every time he’s had a bit too much of a fright. Something about his kidneys, according to Varian, but Hugo doesn’t know enough about anatomy to fucking argue with that one.

Either way. Hugo feels like a dish towel that’s been wrung out too much, right down to being soaked to the bone. He’s tired, achy, hungry, and more than a little shaken up. And worst of all is he’s fucking stuck here, waiting for Varian to get back. He sighs and pets the mouse one last time before it scurries off, probably to look for food. Well. At least one of them is having a good day.

Hugo lets himself sink down and closes his eyes. It’s all he really has the energy left to do at this point. It’s either sleep and ignore the pain or stay awake and stew in it. Not a very difficult choice.

The blond sighs once and lets the world slip away. He can deal with everything once Varian’s back. There’s  not much of a choice.

It’s not like he’s going anywhere anytime soon.

———  ✧  ———

Varian’s brought back to himself when he nearly trips over a tree root and eats shit. The kindling in his hands goes flying to high heaven, scattering across the forest floor. The alchemist curses as he picks himself up. Fucking woods, fucking water, fucking Baron and his fucking cronies.

The day had been so nice too, sunny and calm with just enough of a breeze to keep it from being too warm—and best of all was everyone had taken the day to spend together. It’s been a long while since all of them were able to leave for a fun adventure, even if it’s just for an afternoon.

But now they’re freezing cold in the middle of the woods, Hugo’s injured, and the rest of his family is captured and maybe even dead. Eugene hadn’t sugar coated his stories about how much the Baron hated him.

For all he knows, they’re in a much worse situation than the two alchemists can even imagine.

It makes Varian feel sick to his stomach with worry. He scoops up the kindling with shaking hands and keeps going, deeper into the forest. He’s got enough twigs to hopefully start a fire, but he still needs willow bark. Hugo’s going to need it tomorrow for sure, especially if they want to look into figuring out their next steps.

He sighs and shivers in the cold evening air. The sun’s set by now. The moon is just starting to hover over the tree-line, sending silver streaks through the underbrush. Hell, he’ll have to hurry back. Hugo will be worried.

Varian makes his way toward the sound of water. Willows usually found their roots near rivers and ponds, or so Quirin had taught him. What he wouldn’t give for his dad to be here now, the man would be able to just carry Hugo back home, or even go help the others.

He can’t help but feel useless. Sure, Varian can pick Hugo up for a long while, but nowhere near long enough to get them home. Not without nearly hurting himself in the process which won’t help anything. It’s a scary thought, that he can’t simply get them out.

It’s infuriating.

Their only option is to get Hugo walking again. He’ll need to look over that leg again once he’s back; hopefully it won’t swell too much before he can get back. With any luck there could be wild ginger around here… it’s good for inflammation.

Varian’s so caught up in his worrying that he almost walks right into the river he’d been trying to find. Though he’s ashamed to admit it the feeling of water re-drenching his boots brings him close to frustrated tears. Fucking shit.

Gods, this is the worst. Varian stumbles back out of the water and looks around the riverbed in hopes of finding a willow tree. Luck smiles on him as he spots one nearby, but getting there proves to be a bit of a pain in squelching, soaked boots. They feel like they’re falling apart under his feet as he walks.

Varian grumbles as he slips through the sand of the bank. It’s much calmer at this part of the river as opposed to the area where they’d jumped. It’s almost peaceful here.

He reaches the tree eventually. It’s easy enough to rip a piece off, one large enough to not need multiple trips, and tuck it under his arms with the rest of the kindling. Varian takes a second to try and kick the extra water from his boots before he turns around and heads back toward the cabin—toward Hugo.

Thankfully the woods are quiet. Even the birdsong has stopped under the cover of darkness, though the wind’s picked up. Varian shivers in the chilled air.

The cabin eventually looms through the forest, a splotch of ink on a navy canvas. Varian shoulders the door open without too much trouble and sets everything down. Hugo, fast asleep, snorts awake as Varian draws close.

Varian takes a moment to collect himself before he kneels down and cups Hugo’s face in his hands.

“Hey, love,” he says softly. “How are you feeling?”

Hugo smiles. It’s not comforting, seeing how pale and sweaty his skin is. “I’m great!” he says. “Just peachy!”

Varian sighs. “Thanks for the sarcasm.”

The blond winks. He can’t be feeling that bad then.

The alchemist stands and takes stock of what they need. First thing’s first, a fire. Then maybe some sort of bedding. Tomorrow he can look for ginger and some kind of food, but for now the bark will have to do. Something in him settles at the concept of a list—of things to be done and tasks to check off. A direction to head.

He grabs the matchbook off the mantle. Thank the Sun this is still here. It’s easy to set the kindling and strike the match, and within seconds the cabin’s filled with light and warmth. Much better. Varian breathes a thick swell of air, as if he can inhale the warmth and let it spread quicker through his freezing chest.

Even Hugo sits up and sighs. He throws his hands out toward the fire to warm them. Varian in turn breaks off some of the willow bark and shoves it into Hugo’s waiting palms.

“Chew,” he commands.

Hugo doesn’t argue, putting the piece in his mouth and gnawing at it with a grimace. Varian knows it tastes terrible but Hugo will have to suck it up—the pain killing aspects will take over after a while, and Hugo will be grateful for it.

Alright. There. First task finished. Next is to take stock of what he can find in the cabin. The alchemist pushes himself to his feet and leaves his boyfriend to his willow bark, wandering deeper into the cabin. It’s just a small thing, two rooms and a lavatory, but it’s almost entirely cleaned out. He does manage to find some old blankets that had been forgotten in a hall closet, but that’s about it.

Varian takes the blankets and feels a small swell of gratefulness. It’s a small victory, but one he sorely needs. He wanders into the bedroom and shakes them out; a centuries worth of dust and dirt falls from them with each rough snap of the fabric.

And a small thump rings through the room.

The alchemist peers down as a small object clatters across the floor. A pocket knife, folded closed and hidden in the blankets. Interesting. Probably put there by a kid trying to hide some ill-gotten gains. Varian’s hid more than one dangerous thing from his dad in the linen closet.

Either way, it’s too useful to leave behind. He scoops it up and finishes fluffing out the blankets.

The musty things will have to do. Varian wraps them up in his arms and shuffles out into the main room again. Hugo’s finished his bark and has managed to shuffle himself closer to the fire. Just as well.

He sets the blankets down and crouches near his boyfriend’s busted leg.

“Hello-o nurse,” Hugo croons as Varian starts to poke at the torn fabric of his pant leg.

Varian can’t help but laugh at the inflection in Hugo’s tone. He pulls the knife out of his pocket and holds it up in the fire’s glow. Hugo arches a brow, but Varian tugs gently at the pant leg to get his point across.

“I need to get a better look,” he says.

Hugo pouts—“But I like these pants.”

“And I like you having both legs. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

The pout gets worse. “You’re a terrible doctor.”

“And you’re a shitty patient. Extend your leg for me, darling.” Varian’s forgiving as Hugo strains to do so. It’s gotta still be painful, but it’s movement. That’s a good sign.

It’s easy to use the knife to cut away at the fabric of Hugo’s pant leg. Varian’s careful and clinical. Soon enough the bottom half of the pant leg falls away and Varian can see the extent of the damage.

It’s… not great. But it’s better than he was expecting, honestly. The bruising and swelling have made a mess of the skin. But as Varian runs his hand down it he can’t feel any breaks.

 “Okay, can you wiggle your toes for me?”

“What, you want me to perform for you too? Sing a little song?”

It’s a defensive cover up. Varian can hear the pain lacing Hugo’s tone. He’ll let that one slide.

“Just try. I want to make sure everything’s okay. Please?”

Hugo’s scowl disappears. He flushes in obvious embarrassment at his behavior. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Now wiggle those toes for me.” Hugo’s shoe moves, good. “No problems?”

“Not that I feel.”

“Good. Not broken then. Just really bruised.”

Hugo’s relief is obvious. Varian lets the leg rest again and reaches over to grab some of the blankets. “Want to make a nest?”

Hugo laughs. “Sounds good, sweetcheeks.”

It’s something they’d done a lot on the road, during the seven trials. It’s easier to stay warm by sharing. Varian feels almost nostalgic to arrange the blankets together and make a little cluster they can sleep in.

Eventually Hugo settles back and Varian borderline flops forward into his chest. He’s still gentle, Hugo’s hurt after all, but a cuddle is more than a little needed after the day they’d had.

The fire’s started to die a bit in the hearth. It’ll live until the morning, but the dimmed light is welcome. Varian snuggles close to his boyfriend and tries to push away the fear, the worry. Hugo’s arms tighten around him, wordlessly offering comfort. The alchemist nearly melts into the embrace.

“I love you,” Varian whispers into the darkness. The arms around him hug a little harder.

“I love you too,” Hugo mumbles back. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure things out.”

Varian hopes it’s true. For now, all he can do is let his eyes slip closed. Sleep takes him quickly, dragging him down, down, down. Hugo’s breathing is a wonderful distraction.

The day passes quickly. Hugo nearly loses himself in good food, the aforementioned round of charades (that he and Varian absolutely clean house in, suck it Lance), and easy conversation.

Hugo leans back in the grass. His arms lift up above his head, bending at the elbows so his hands can tuck under his head. He stares up at the sky with a content grin; the clouds are big and fluffy, the large shapes breaking up the sun and keeping the air from growing too hot. The willow tree they’d eaten under is nearby; everyone else is still finishing up lunch save for Varian, who lays next to Hugo. They’re close to the water; the gentle noises of the river mix with the calm breeze. It’s wonderful.

The blond sucks in a breath and grins before closing his eyes. He really could fall asleep here so easily… it’s calm. Quiet.

Varian lays next to him, in a similar position. They’d been watching the clouds together, pointing out shapes, before letting the content silence wash over them. Hugo breathes gently through his nose and nearly sneezes because of all the pollen. Fucking—damn it.

The nerves are starting to come back. This is… well, it’s getting to be a good time. The meal’s done, their friends are off to the side so they won’t have too much of an audience, and Varian’s literally right there.

So… show time.

“Hey, love?” he mumbles. Varian answers with a little hm noise. He barely sounds awake, but that’s okay. Hugo’s got a bit of a thing planned. Maybe if Varian’s half-asleep the whole time he won’t make fun of Hugo until the very end.

“You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

Varian doesn’t open his eyes, but the smile on his face grows wide. “I know,” he affirms. “And I love you even more then that.”

Hugo snorts. “Oh, really?”

“Really. I did tests. One hundred percent confirmed.”

“Dang.” Hugo fiddles with his fingers. “That’s a lot.”

Varian snickers to himself. Hugo can’t help but do the same; but he still reels the conversation back in. He’s on a mission here, damn it.

“I love you so much. A—and I know I have trouble showing it sometimes. But…”

Varian finally opens an eye and frowns. “Is everything okay?”

Hugo clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to tell you.” Do it now, coward! “Yaknow, that I love you.”

“I love you too,” Varian’s voice is serious, not a joke to be found.

“Well, I’d hope so. But that’s why I wanted to uh, well—” Hugo sits up then and looks down at Varian. “—I wanted to ask you something.”

Varian sits up as well. He’s framed almost perfectly by the fields behind him. His face is so hopeful. “Yeah, anything. What’s up?”

Hugo hears the group behind him go suspiciously silent; he can’t see them, he’s faced away, but Varian definitely can so please Gods let them be acting normal back there.

“So we’ve been, uh, you know. Dating. For a bit.” Fucking hell get it together. “And sometimes I can’t help but think about… uh. Varian?”

Varian’s not quite looking at him, instead focused on something just over Hugo’s shoulder. Gods, he’s fucking this up that badly? But Varian doesn’t seem awkward, or even upset; his face squishes with confusion, almost concern. His gaze doesn’t move from behind Hugo. It’s strange to say the least.

“No one else was supposed to be joining us, right?” he asks. It throws Hugo for a bit of a loop, so he manages to twist around and look toward the rest of the group.

Suddenly Varian’s confusion makes so much sense. There’s a second group of people near Rapunzel, Eugene, and Lance; they all loom over the Coronans, one of them is absolutely massive, with the other two being considerably smaller. One’s wearing a big pointy hat, which is interesting this late in the summer, but okay. Others are scattered around the field, springing up like daisies. Hugo hadn’t even noticed them.

“Not that I know of…” Hugo trails off. Rapunzel had said this place was basically never populated, it was one of the best kept secrets in Corona. “I didn’t think anyone else knew this place even existed.”

Varian tilts his head a bit. It’s hard to see the others this far away, especially the newcomers who stand in the shade. They seem to be talking to Eugene, who stands in front of Lance and Rapunzel with an almost protective air. Everyone looks tense. Even from this distance it’s easy to pick out straightened spines and unflinching limbs.

Something isn’t right.

When Hugo says as much, Varian starts to nod. “Maybe we should go over—great Sun!”

The silver glint of swords suddenly make an appearance, prompting Varian’s shout. Even at their distance it’s easy to hear shouting and the shwing of dueling blades. The large figure swings his sword at Eugene who only just manages to parry. Lance and Rapunzel are shouting too; Lance makes a break for the carriage as Rapunzel pulls her frying pan out from her bag.

There’s a sudden clatter of commotion. Multiple large men emerge from behind their cart, brandishing weapons of all kinds. One of them, however, looks a little too familiar. A large, almost bazooka like gun, hefted over a man’s shoulder. It’s something Hugo’s only seen in blueprints in their lab, but he knows it well. Varian had spent enough time debating on destroying it, after all.

“Is… is that my project obsidian design?!” Varian snaps. He sounds almost annoyed, which would be funny in any other situation. The thug holding the bastardized version of Varian’s invention points it toward Eugene, gesturing with obvious threat. Hugo doesn’t have to focus to see the way everyone flinches at the sight of it, but the body next to Hugo’s is easily the worst—all tense limbs and shaking, shuddering rage.

Varian’s up like a shot, bolting toward his family. Hugo is momentarily stunned—how the fuck did this go so badly so quickly??—but follows after his brain boots back up. They don’t have any alchemy here, didn’t think to bring any on their fun little picnic in a goddamn flower field, but that doesn’t seem to stop Varian in the slightest. Meaning he’s going to get fucking murdered.

The thought is enough to get Hugo to his feet. He stumbles after his boyfriend—still his fucking boyfriend, god fucking damn it he hadn’t even gotten to ask his question—and calls out.

“Hey, sweetcheeks, hey!”

Varian doesn’t slow down. If anything he picks up speed when more people appear from a nearby carriage that had been hiding behind the tree. Fucking—shit!

Hugo only just manages to catch his boyfriend, grabbing his wrist tightly and pulling him behind a nearby tree. He’s seen enough of Varian’s run in and pray method, and he knows it’s not going to work.

“Wait,” he hisses, “we can’t take them all, we need to be smart!”

“What do we even do?!” Varian snaps back. “Just let them attack everyone?”

There’s another shout in the distance. A loud fweeeeee-POP rings through the valley, accompanied by a volley of screams. Dirt sprays in every direction, thrown up by a massive explosion that rings in the ear. Both alchemists flinch violently; Hugo finds himself pulling Varian close subconsciously.

In the aftermath there’s a horrible silence. All Hugo can hear is his own frantic heartbeat thudding in his ear. There’s muffled voices, still too far to catch what’s said, but then another explosion rings.

Varian goes from pale to downright pallid. He rips his hand from Hugo’s grasp, bolting around the tree before the blond can grab him. Fucking hell. Hugo’s forced to follow—he has to blink away stars when sunlight glints off Eugene’s sword.

The man with the bazooka takes another shot. Hugo can’t help but watch with horrified fascination as an explosive bursts from the barrel and launches into a nearby tree. A graceful trail of purple smoke arcs through the sky. The high pitched shriek of it ends in another rumbling BOOM as it slams into the trunk. Hugo has to jump out of the way as the tree falls with a long, drawn out groan. Shit! 

The others aren’t faring much better. Rapunzel smashes a smaller man’s face in with her frying pan. Not for the first time Hugo’s grateful he’s never had to fight her; he’s not really sure he’d live to tell the tale. Blood sprays from the man’s broken nose, splattering the ground. She whirls around, skirt swinging wide, and catches sight of Varian and Hugo running for them.

“Run!” she shouts, “get help!”

The man she’d hit starts to get up and grabs at her. Rapunzel’s forced back into the fray before she can say anything else. Varian skids to a stop as another figure’s attention latches onto him with the princess’s cry. It’s the guy with the big hat. One of his eyes is sealed shut, his face haggard, thin, and sharp. In his hand, a dagger glints. Varian looks a little unsure what to do at a standoff like this, giving time for Hugo to catch up to him. Thank the Maker because the ginger man in front of them starts to move forward.

“Not another step,” the man threatens. Hugo’s stomach sinks into his shoes; he knows this fucking guy, or more specifically who he works for. Not good, not good.

Varian looks ready to punch Anthony the Weasel in the pockmarked face. Rapunzel swings her pan at the man grappling with her, and twists to yell at them again.

“Run!”

Her voice is much more of a snap than Hugo’s ever heard her make. It’s enough to kickstart Varian back into moving. He tries to bolt for the carriage—for Max, specifically—but the Weasel gets between them.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chides. He takes another step, forcing Varian and Hugo to back up to keep their distance. The man with the gun’s attention’s drawn their way as well, just to put a cherry on the situation

“Fuck,” Varian hisses. “Don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

Hugo winces and shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Excellent.”

Weasel seems to lose patience with them. He takes another step, one that’s all together too close for Hugo’s liking. Before he can think he’s grabbing Varian’s hand and pulling them both backward. Varian goes easily, running after Hugo; Weasel shouts something and chases after them.

“Go!” Hugo yelps. “Go, go, go!”

“I’m going!” Varian snaps.

Another fweeeee noise is the only warning they get before the ground right behind Hugo’s heel bursts into the sky. The explosion threatens to pitch him forward but Hugo only just manages to escape it. Varian shrieks at the loud POP that follows; they both pick up the pace, borderline sprinting across the field to try and stay out of range of the canon. Dirt rains down on them both. It covers their hair, their clothes—Hugo swears he can taste it on his tongue.

They’re running without a direction. Varian nearly barrels into another thug, who starts to pursue them as well. Hugo has to kick at a third that pops up. They keep running, trying to find somewhere out of the way to even think—but as they hit a dead end, a horrible realization runs through Hugo.

They’re being herded.

They’re quickly getting closer to the cliff’s edge. Varian uses the grip on Hugo’s thin hand to stop them both from toppling over the edge. Hugo chances a look down and sucks in a fearful breath at the two story drop. A waterfall to their left spews water into the valley below, a small lake snaking out below. It’s not a drop he’d like to make.

Varian hisses a curse as he realizes they’ve been boxed in. Three men, one of which is the fucking Weasel, start to chuckle to themselves when the realize that they’ve got the alchemists trapped. Hugo’s heart beats at a mile a minute. Bad, bad, very bad. Varian’s eyes flit between each of the thugs, trying to find something to do—an out, they need an out.

The water below them roars like a starving beast. Hugo has to stumble forward to avoid falling back when some of the rocks crumble away under his feet. Varian’s hand in his gets tighter. They stand together, hand in hand, and caught.

Rapunzel screams something in the distance. Hugo just catches sight of Eugene getting knocked the fuck out with the pommel of the Baron’s sword. He drops like a stone. Varian sucks in a frightened breath.

Hugo chances a look over to his boyfriend; they can’t get fucking caught. Everyone else is already down for the count. It’s up to them to get help—to escape and regroup and come back for their family when they have the power to.

Varian’s foot shifts. He’s twisting, looking down the gorge. His eyes do the little flicking motion they do when he’s thinking. “I have an idea,” he whispers.

The Weasel and the other thugs get close. Too fucking close. That canon’s aimed at them; if it goes off it’ll be a killing shot. If it goes off they’re absolutely dead.

“I’m not going to like this idea, am I?” Hugo mutters back. He’s already following Varian’s train of thought.

“We can make it.”

“Do we fucking want to make it?”

Varian’s hand grips his tighter. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

And he’s right. Hugo snarls when one of the thugs gets too close. The man only laughs at their obvious predicament.

“How about you be good for us, boys?” Anthony coos. “We just want to have a little chat with everyone. Mainly the princess, but the alchemist of Corona and Donella’s boy ain’t much of a lackluster prize either.”

Ah. Even better, these fucks know who they are. Marvelous.

Hugo grips Varian’s hand tightly. The stones under his feet crumble that little bit more. Showtime, baby.

“One,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Two.” Varian’s voice cracks. “I love you too.”

Hugo only gets one last look at the thugs startled faces before he twists on his heel. “THREE!” he yells, throwing himself off the edge of the cliff. Varian follows—his hand unfortunately leaving Hugo’s—and they both topple over the edge. 

For a second all Hugo feels is the swooping vertigo of falling. His stomach jumps in his throat. Wind whistles by his ears, tuned with the roar of water and the angry shouting of the thugs they left behind. Somewhere up above the fweeeeeeee-POP of a missed shot rings loudly. Just briefly, it feels like flying. Varian screams something Hugo can’t make out, and then the water rushes up to meet them. He barely has time to hold his breath.

The water hits like it might as well have been stone.

The air’s punched from Hugo’s lungs immediately. He screams as searing pain runs up his leg—it’s a terrible thing to do, as water quickly rushes in to replace it. It’s freezing cold despite the summer season. Hugo’s lungs heave to try and expel the water, an unnatural clench of the diaphragm that feels more like he’s about to be sick; it doesn’t do much to help as another round of water replaces whatever he’s managed to cough out.

The river’s deceptively fast under the surface. A pulse of panic hits Hugo as Varian’s presence is torn from him, leaving him alone to spin in the current. He’s tossed through the water like a child’s toy, spinning countless times until he can’t tell which way is up. Hugo’s like a spinning top, flipping over and over and over until he’s absolutely sure he’s about to vomit.

A sudden pulse of fear cuts through the pain and the pain.

He’s going to fucking drown.

Hugo tries valiantly to swim, kicking his legs and pushing his arms through the current—he can’t tell if he’s even going up, everything’s spinning, he can’t fucking BREATHE—but his limbs feel slow and sluggish. Like he’s swimming through molasses. His left leg screams in fiery agony, a sickly pain that forces Hugo to stop using it.

His chest contracts again. It hurts.

Disorientation is easily the hidden demon. Hugo had thought he was a good swimmer, but as his side smashes against something solid he’s thinking that might have been an overestimate. Black starts to creep in on the edges of his vision—fuck, he’s really going to drown out here—and his ineffectual flailing is starting to fail him. He can’t even tell what way’s up. His spine slams into what is definitely a rock, a slicing pain that knocks the last of his sense from him. Hugo’s world begins to go horrifically black; the final thought his brain can cling to filters through his grey matter, drifting and lax like the water around him.

I hope Varian’s okay.

———  ✧  ———

Varian’s been having a rough day. 

He’d shouted for Hugo to tuck his limbs in as they fell; the blond had flailed and thrown himself akimbo, if he hit the water like that there’s no telling how he ended up. Varian had been forced to corkscrew his legs together and tuck his arms to his chest without knowing if his boyfriend was doing the same.

He’d hit the water like a kingfisher’s beak, minimal surface area ensuring that he’d almost slid into the water with relative ease. The positioning of his legs gave his body a slight spin in the water, bleeding off speed—but even then, his boots bump the bottom of the river. He stays there, waiting, watching the sky through the shimmering water. Varian counts the seconds. Up above, black figures peer over the edge and obviously search for them. He waits, holding his breath, for them to leave.

When they do, he’s grateful. Varian’s able to push off the silt and launch toward the surface. The current’s so strong here, the waterfall creating a heavy circular rush under the water. Anything caught in it would be tossed like a leaf in the wind.

His head finally breaches the water, and he gasps greedily. Oxygen has never tasted sweeter. Varian has to pause to get his bearings, treading water and letting himself breathe. He spins and splutters, searching—where’s Hugo?

There’s no sight of the blond. A chill creeps up Varian’s spine, not one caused by the cold.

“Hugo?” His voice barely rises over the roaring waterfall. “Hugo!?”

Nothing. Varian’s heart starts to pound. He spins, paddling quicker—where’s Hugo, where’s Hugo, where’s Hugo?!

There.

A flash of green, deep under the water. Shit! Varian sucks in a deep breath and dives. He kicks frantically, squinting through the water—fuck, Hugo must have landed badly, he’s floating in the current like a piece of driftwood, unconscious—and quickly approaches his boyfriend’s limp body. He grabs Hugo by the shirt, dragging him up. Hugo weighs a ton, nothing but dead weight.

Varian hits the surface with a gasp. He pulls Hugo up with him; the moment the blond’s head hits the air he starts to cough. Thank the Sun. The alchemist locks one of his arms around his boyfriend and starts to awkwardly paddle for the shoreline. They’ve floated quite a ways away from the falls—a good thing, they’ll have to get moving before any of the Baron’s crew come sniffing around—but it’s still a struggle against the current with Hugo’s weight.

“Ah—shit, love,” Varian gasps. “It’s okay, we’re okay. Just keep breathing for me.” He splutters as some water gets in his mouth, but finally his feet touch sand and he’s able to walk them to shore. Hugo drags behind him. Fuck, he better not be dead.

Varian hooks his arms under Hugo’s armpits and drags them both onto land. A quick check confirms Hugo’s still breathing. Small victories. The alchemist takes a second to flop onto the bank, gasping for air. He’s already exhausted.

“Fuck,” he gasps. His body hurts—everything fucking hurts—but he can’t rest, not yet. Varian rolls onto his knees and takes another look at Hugo. He mostly seems fine, still breathing, but his leg… yeah. It’s turning a sick purple right in the center. Varian’s not sure if it’s broken, but there’s no way Hugo’s going to be able to walk on it. Shit.

“Hugo,” he says. He gently tries to rouse his boyfriend with a small shake. “Hugo.” The blond only mumbles, but hey, it’s a sign of life. “Baby, c’mon. You have to get up, we have to move.” He shakes Hugo again, and this time those green eyes flutter open.

“…Var?”

Varian smiles. Relief is palpable in his blood. “Hey,” he says softly. “You took a hard hit. I’m sorry you can’t rest right now—we have to keep moving.”

Hugo’s eyebrows scrunch, but then realization comes back to him. “The Baron. The others.”

“I’m not sure what’s happened.” Is all Varian says in return. “But we can’t stay here. I doubt they’ll think the fall killed us. Not without bodies to bring back.”

The blond sucks in a breath. His temple is bleeding. It’s a fucking wonder that his glasses are still on. Varian pushes himself to his feet with a grunt; he can’t keep waiting, not with the enemy on their heels. He knows it’s not great to force Hugo into moving, but if they wind up dead or caught they won’t be useful to anyone—practicality is the name of the game right now.

“Can you stand?”

Hugo, bless him, tries. He’s obviously struggling, even when Varian grabs one of his arms and helps him up.

“Fuck me,” the blond gasps. “My leg—”

“I saw. We’ll find shelter and then go from there.”

They’re both soaked to the bone. They need to get dry before the night creeps in, make a fire if they can, tend to Hugo’s injuries, and regroup. Varian’s mind whirls at a hundred miles an hour as the plan starts to form. There’s so much they have to do and so little time—shelter first. Then fire. Then everything else.

Compartmentalization. Right. One step at a time.

He loops Hugo’s arm around his shoulders and holds strong. The first step they take is slow and fumbling, but he manages to bite back the obvious pain. Varian does his best to offer support. The second step is better. The blond alchemist only sighs and shakes his head, gripping tightly. The woods loom before them, dark and deep. They take a third step, then a fourth.

“C’mon, love,” Varian says with a wry grin. “You up for a surprise camping trip?”

On the craziest day of his life, Hugo wakes up early.

A little voice squeaks quietly from his chest. Gods, not this early… it can’t be sunrise yet, right? The bed’s so warm, he can’t be bothered to wake up. Hugo sniffs and nearly rolls back over to hide under the sheets; he’s stopped by a sharp tug on his bangs. Ow! He knows exactly who—or rather what—it is, and why they’re being a jerk this early, but man, c’mon! He cracks his eye open and glares at the little thing sitting on his chest.

“Ow, Olivia,” he whispers. Can’t be too loud, lest he wake up his bedmate, but damn. “Do you have to pull so hard?”

Olivia squeaks again. Her little metal ears shift in time with her body movements—a small detail, but one that adds to her looking so damn alive. She really is one of the best things he’s ever made. His heart swells with affection at the sight of her, especially how her big eyes blink in the morning sun.

She’s also waking him up at the ass-crack of dawn. So maybe she’s not that great.

Hugo sinks down into the bed for one last, blessed second in the warmth. Next to him, his boyfriend sleeps soundly. Varian’s always been a heavy sleeper, something that Hugo’s thankful today—he has business to attend to, without any partners in crime. As much as he doesn’t want to get up, Hugo knows that if he tries during normal-human hours the alchemist would be suspicious, which is the last thing he needs.

Varian mumbles something and rolls over. Gods he’s so cute when he sleeps; it’s hard not to coo at the lax snores echoing through the bedroom. Hugo has to narrowly dodge wandering hands lest he gets snagged and drawn into a lazy snuggle. As much as he’d like to stick around, he can’t. Not this morning.

The blond slips from the bed on light feet. Varian quickly reorients himself in the middle of the warm spot with a sleepy noise, rolling over until he can cuddle into the sheets. Adorable.

The alchemist has always ran a little cooler, which makes him search out Hugo any time they sleep in the same bed—which is basically every night now, unless one of them is traveling. He knows he’s a bit of a furnace, something that Varian’s always appreciated. Its truly the best snuggle-to-temperature ratio.

Hugo can’t help but smile and lean down to press a long kiss to Varian’s temple. His boyfriend is a cute sleeper, soft snores whistling through buck teeth and his skin all sleep soft. He’s so cute. Especially with the way his raven hair flares out in every direction, puffing up like a rat’s nest. 

He has to pull himself back before his resolve breaks and he goes back to bed. Hugo throws on his clothes quickly, trying to be as quiet as he can. He doesn’t even put on his boots until he leaves the bedroom and gets farther down the halls. Hugo’s not fucking risking it. Not today.

The castle isn’t really awake yet. It still lazes, sleepy and warm and quiet in the early morning like a slumbering beast. Hugo barely sees another soul as he leaves the great hall and pushes his way into the daylight.

The kingdom of Corona is just starting its day. It’s so early that the cobblestones under his boots are still damp with morning dew. Hugo passes the bakery, Atilla finishing his morning loaves, and then Xavier’s shop with the forge only beginning to warm. Neither are his destination today, but he still waves when they greet him.

It’s strange, isn’t it? Waving to people like a familiar neighbor… though he’s known the locals for like three years by now… Maker, he’s going soft.

He sighs and shakes his head ruefully. That’s a crisis for a later day, his apparent domestication. Eyes on the prize, dummy.

It’s almost good that he’s up this early. No one really comments on why he’s out and about, but beyond a few townsfolk there’s no one out to call him on his weird behaviour. Meaning less people who could potentially comment to Varian and blow this whole endeavor sky high.

Hugo follows the directions he’d written down on a slip of paper. They’re directly from the princess, who had insisted that she help him out. He’s not going to lie and say that it’s not appreciated.

Two lefts and a right, you can’t miss it.

And, sure enough, he doesn’t. The shop in front of him is obviously the one he’s looking for, a large window in the front showing off its wares. Which means it’s show time. Oh shit.

He doesn’t want to admit that he has to take a second, one hand on the handle, before he can muster the courage to enter the building. Eventually Hugo gets there, but it sure takes a bit. Deep breath, and just do it.

The door swings open with a happy little chime. Hugo winces as it rings through the quiet space. The shop owner, an elderly man, looks up at the noise and smiles widely when he sees who it is.

“Mister Hugo, is it?”

The blond coughs at being called out. “Uh, yessir,” he mumbles. The man doesn’t make mention of it, only waving him forward.

“Don’t be so surprised, it’s not every day the princess asks me for a favor. I haven’t opened this early in decades!” He chortles to himself at his own joke. “But I guess you’re on a bit of a secret mission this time, hm?”

Hugo feels heat deep in his face. “Yeah.” He can’t even deny it. Hugo knows that if he’d gotten here before now Varian surely would have discovered what he’s after.

It’s not that his boyfriend is nosy, it’s just that he’s totally fucking nosy and would sniff Hugo out in under a day. If Hugo tried to hide it, there’s no way they would have gotten to today, to The Day.

“Don’t you worry son,” the shop owner says, “old Filibert will take good care of you. We’ll find exactly what you’re looking for. Now, if you come over here, I’ve got a wonderful selection from you to choose from—”

Hugo swallows thickly past the lump in his throat. He knew what he was getting into here, but… to see it actually happening? Damn.

But he chokes back the nerves and follows Filibert to the display case. It’s now or never, after all. And he’d prefer the now.

He’s been waiting long enough.

———  ✧  ———

Rapunzel looks nearly ready to shake out of her skin. For the fiftieth time Hugo wonders if he should have included her—should have included any of these deranged fucks— in his plan, but it’s too late to go back now.

His mission had been successful; he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, and the feather-light weight is slowly burning a hole in his pocket the longer it stays there. Part of Hugo just wants to chuck it into the gutter and pretend it never existed. The rest of him would rather throw himself in instead.

“Oh, Hugo,” Rapunzel coos when he shows her his prize, “it’s perfect!”

Fitzherbert peeks over his wife’s shoulder with an appraising expression. “Hm, yeah,” he says, “I guess it’ll work.” His face can’t mask the slight pride in his voice, not from Hugo. It’s strange to hear it from the man, but not unwelcome; here he thought Eugene hated his guts. Maybe Hugo’s finally growing on him. 

Lance elbows Eugene then, chiding him for being quote-unquote salty. Rapunzel sighs as the two men devolve into playful wrestling and sidesteps them as they topple into the grass. Hugo scowls and tucks the source of all this back into his pocket—good Maker, imagine if he lost the fucking thing.

They’re out waiting for Varian, the last of their weird little group to arrive. Rapunzel had been adamant that the lot of them head out to a nearby picnic spot, one that’s a known secret between royals and supposedly the best in all the land. Hugo’s got his doubts, but hey, she’d offered to provide the food so he can’t get too upset.

Lance and Eugene roll a few more times, nearly knocking into the cart. Max lets out an angry whinny and stomps his hooves. Hugo winces when it stirs up a cloud of dust that covers the two men. Eugene immediately wails, his hands flying up to pat at his hair.

“Oh c’mon!” he whines, “I need to look good for today! What’s your problem, horse?”

Max’s answering huff sounds a bit too amused with himself to be apologetic. Lance laughs from his place on the ground, flat on his back and obviously not about to move. Hugo’s foot taps, already sick of this. His nerves are already shot and it’s barely the start of the day.

“When’s Varian supposed to be here?” he asks Rapunzel. She smiles and shrugs before carefully dusting Eugene’s coat off for him. It does nothing to ease Hugo’s apprehension. “I just would like to get going, you know? It’s supposed to be nice out but what if it rains? You never know—”

“Hey,” Rapunzel’s voice is soft. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll make sure everything will go off without a hitch!”

That’s not comforting, even if she means it that way. The last time this particular motley crew tried to plan something it had ended in sixteen hyped up gophers running amok through the castle, as well as a fire large enough to put half the building at risk. So no, no her words do nothing to chase away the sickening, twisting nerves that wrap around his stomach and squeeze, and have been doing so for the past week.

“Sure.” Hugo manages to bite out. “Without a hitch. Got it.”

His hands clench around nothing. This is going to end so badly, he’ll be the laughing stock of the kingdom for months, he should just give up now before he can make an ass of himself—

“Hugo, it’ll be okay.”

Eugene returns to the conversation. “Yeah, kid,” he offers, “we’ve got your back on this one. No worries at all!”

Hugo has to keep himself from scoffing. “Right. Because you of all people want this to go well.”

That gets a laugh. Eugene reaches over and ruffles his hair, making Hugo squawk in protest. “Hey I may yank your chain but I wouldn’t dream of messing this up. Not for Varian, or for you.”

“He’s going to cry,” Lance adds from his place on the floor. “Just you watch, he’ll be a wreck once it happens.”

“Thank you for the contribution Lance,” Eugene snaps. His face is bright red already, ha.

Rapunzel sighs before leaving the men to their bickering. “Hey.”

Hugo doesn’t look at her. The box in his pocket feels like it weighs a million tonnes, like it’ll pull him down into the earth, letting the dirt swallow him whole.

The princess tries again. “Hugo.”

“Hm?”

“It’ll be alright, you know that? You and Varian have talked about this before, right?”

“Yeah.” Countless times by now, soft whispers in the dead of night. What if, what if.

“Then you know what his answer will be. Besides, we’re here for you. You’ll have your family by your side to watch your back!”

That throws Hugo for a loop. “F—what?”

“Aw, Sunshine, I think you broke him.”

“Shh, Eugene.” It’s not even angry, more endeared. Hugo’s brain is too busy snapping in half to pay attention as Rapunzel offers him a slightly shy smile. “Hugo, you’ve been with us for three years. You and Varian are about as close as you can get—and that makes you a part of this family… if you’ll have us. I don’t want to push it on you, but we love you and we’ll be there for you.”

Something silly in Hugo wants to fucking cry. “I—I don’t…”

Rapunzel smiles. She must be reading his mind because she says: “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that we’re here. No matter what happens—even though nothing will go wrong—you’ll be okay.”

Hugo swallows thickly. He doesn’t—he hadn’t—

“C’mon sunshine,” Eugene chides softly, “you’re gunna break his brain.” But he still winks at Hugo and offers a smile. “But she’s right.”

He’s going to throw up—or maybe just have a heart attack. Maybe both! Getting a bomb like that dropped on him this early in the day, on The Day, the day that’s either going to be the start or the end of his life, throws him for a hell of a loop.

Thankfully his thoughts get a jump-start with the ring of a new voice. A familiar voice.

“Hey guys!” Varian calls. He’s walking toward the group from the castle, one arm up in a wave. “Sorry I’m late, just had to wrap something up in the lab. Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all!” Rapunzel’s serious demeanor vanishes like clouds on a sunny day. “We were just talking about what kinds of games we might want to set up after lunch. I’m thinking charades!”

“No one wants to play charades except for you,” Varian says with a wry grin. “I can promise that already.”

“Excuse me,” Lance pipes up. “I’ll have you know I was the charade king six years in a row.”

Eugene’s voice is offended. “Since when?”

“You don’t know my life.”

Varian rolls his eyes at his family. Hugo can only smile, shrugging and praying to the Maker that he doesn’t seem weird. He can keep up an act for today, right? Right?! Oh Maker help him he’s going to fuck it up, isn’t he?

Rapunzel claps her hands and gestures to the cart. “Okay everyone!” she calls. “Let’s stop the arguments and have a nice. Calm. Day. Alright?”

Eugene and Lance look properly chided. Hugo refuses to acknowledge it for a whole of three seconds before Varian’s elbow jabs itself into his guts.

“Be nice,” Varian chides. Hugo snickers and opts to instead throw an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“I’ve never been nice a day in my life.”

Varian bites at his lip and arches a doubtful brow. “Mh-hm.”

Hugo’s about to make a snappy comeback when Rapunzel clears her throat. She gestures to the cart and everyone begins to pile in.

The box in Hugo’s pocket continues to weight on him. It’s almost show time. Maker help him, he’s doomed. He takes a seat in the cart and forces a smile when Varian plops down next to him with a grunt.

Max whinnies before starting off. Everyone else begins to chatter, mostly simple things like the weather and castle gossip, but Hugo tunes them out. His foot begins to tap against the wooden floor.

At least he’ll be humiliated around everyone who’d grown so important to him. Maybe they’d have the decency to kill him right before everything goes to shit—right before he can make the biggest ass of himself there is.

But… he wants this. So badly. And if he wants it, it’s time for him to act.

So he sucks in a deep breath and loops an arm around Varian’s shoulders. His boyfriend leans into the contact with a grin, and together they start to snark with Varian’s… with their family.

Maybe he does like the sound of that, after all.

———  ✧  ———

Turns out Rapunzel was right. The picnic site is beautiful. Rolling, grassy fields mixed with lush wildflowers and dotted with trees for shade. In the distance a stream feeds off a cliff, perfect for swimming—and in the center of it all, a tall willow stands at the water’s edge. The meadow is up high on a cliff, offering a stellar view of the valley and forest below.

They’d ridden in the cart for nearly two hours, well past Old Corona and so close to the border you could practically throw a stone to it. Hugo hasn’t been this far from the castle in a couple of years; the library had taken a lot of work to make into something they could use, and he and Varian had been so busy…

But it’s a lovely spot. It’s perfect for what he wants to accomplish today. It makes him all the more nervous; now if something goes wrong he can’t blame the location, or the people, just himself.

Varian hops out of the cart with a grin, only to immediately get wrangled into helping Eugene and Lance set up the blanket and other supplies from the cart. He groans but still jumps in to assist the others.

Hugo finds that his legs have turned to jelly. Oh Maker, it’s time, he’s going to fuck it up, it’s all going to end in flames—

A hand on his. His eyes snap up to meet a matching set; Rapunzel smiles at him, giving a small nod of encouragement.

“It’s going to be great,” she says. The conviction in her voice settles the fear in Hugo’s chest. It’s going to be great.

“Right. Yeah.”

She pats his hand once more before standing and hopping out of the cart as well. Hugo can hear her chiding the boys for their inability to set up a simple blanket, guys what are you even doing?

Hugo sucks in another breath before tentatively reaching into his pocket. The box in his hand is almost cool to the touch. He almost wants to pull his hand back but instead he tugs it out and gently holds it in his palm. It stares back at him, judging.

His hand shakes as he opens the box. Or, more specifically, the shining band of silver inside.

The ring is classy but understated. A simple band of silver dotted with sapphires that remind Hugo of the alchemist’s eyes. He’d gotten a matching one with emerald for himself for if… if things go according to plan.

Either way, he likes the rings. Varian wouldn’t like something over-the-top, or so Hugo thinks. Well, knows. They’d discussed this kind of thing at the same time they’d talked about the idea of what if.

And oh, what a wonderful concept what if is. Hugo had spent the last week turning it over in his mind, holding it to the light, twisting and rotating it until it felt tangible. Inspecting, looking for cracks or flaws—and then finally what if felt as real as what is.

Hugo wants to marry Varian. Wants it like the tides follow the moon or a dragon covets its hoard: reverently, and with the kind of fierce desire that threatens to consume. He’d throw himself from the tallest tower in the kingdom to hear a yes.

And that thought scares him. Hugo had thought he knew what he wants: gold, jewels, fame, fortune. But this new desire, the burning fire of it, is such a new level of want that he doesn’t know how to contain it.

It’s scary. Especially knowing that the only way to get to where he wants to be is to confront it. They may have discussed the m-word, so many times, and decided that it was a path they wanted to follow but… Hugo wants to be the one to propose.

Varian had always proved himself devoted and solid. Hugo wants to show himself to be the same; to prove to himself and Varian both that he’s here for the long haul. That he’s in for living their lives together.

Hugo knows Varian would never doubt how much Hugo loves him. As well, Hugo would never doubt how much he loves Varian. Let alone how much Varian loves Hugo. But to have it sealed like this, with a grand gesture claiming you’re the one for me, I pick you above all else… it feels like too symbolic a moment to leave to fate.

So Hugo enlisted their family, bought the ring, and dragged everyone out to this picture perfect place. And now it’s almost time.

The ring glints at him in the bright sunlight. Hugo snaps the box closed with a sigh and stands from the cart. Varian hasn’t noticed his absence yet, still snappishly ranting at Lance about optimal blanket position for maximum shade.

Hugo shoves the box back into his pocket. He jumps down to join their motley crew, immediately pitching in on Lance’s side just to watch Varian get pissed off. He puffs up like an angry cat, it’s great.

The familiarity helps to soothe his nerves. Hugo can breathe easier as everyone continues to set up, and watching how the sun plays on Varian’s freckles is a hell of a distraction.

 As they sit down to start eating he finally lets himself relax. Rapunzel and Co keep the conversation flowing, and eventually Hugo manages to worm a hand into Varian’s; the warmth of the alchemist’s palm in his grounds him like nothing else can.

Varian looks at Hugo and smiles widely. His eyes sparkle. Hugo can’t help but return it, focusing entirely on the people in front of him. On his family. He barely even notices the storm clouds approaching from the distance.