A/N: Hello! Well I'm late to Aaaaangst Week but I'm here. In my defense, I thought at one point it was only Varian-centric, but no, he's just super popular. So here's a take from me about the extremely UNhealthy StalyanRider.
Preface
This story takes place within the world of Tangled: The Series, now Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure. This follows a "What if" timeline involving the following from the Season 2 Premiere, "Beyond the Corona Walls."
Eugene, Lance, Shorty, and Hook Foot are captured by the Baron's men. Hook Foot does not escape, so he never alerts Rapunzel and Cassandra. The Baron releases his venomous spider to bite Lance, blackmailing Eugene into marrying Stalyan in order to get the antivenom. Rapunzel and Cassandra do not witness the Re-Engagement / Wedding Announcement. That night, Eugene and Stalyan are married.
Chapter 1
There's More Sex in Prison
Eugene's labored breathing had become the norm again. This time the weight in his chest was heavier than ever, though he was fairly certain he had lost weight elsewhere; probably muscle. With the unnatural rhythm in his lungs, they were lucky when they got any air. Doing anything more was certainly out of the question. Untouched food was still laid out, somewhere over there, that once had even been hot, with chilled fresh fruit gone warm. The same as yesterday. And the day before. And everyday since...
He still lay in bed, but not because it was a massive fixture outfitted with stark white 1500-count Egyptian cotton sheets, fluffy duck-down stuffed pillows, and thick tufted duvet with embossed white swirl texture. He did not feel any of it. Listlessly he lazed, turned on his side toward the wall, still completely undressed under the colorless mound. Through one of the few narrow windows, despite his blank stare, he could see the awful bright blue sky, if he wanted to, indicating it had been daylight out for many hours already. At the same time it felt like no time had passed at all, even without having slept last night. His life had frozen in time.
Then again, it felt like his 'old' life was an eternity ago. He brought his arms up to cross in front of his chest, and with his right thumb, rubbed his left palm as he brought both up to his mouth. He closed his eyes, and hummed the sad tune that still beat in his heart all the way through. Hopefully, he would get to sleep through the day again. Then he could have the night to himself, which, for what it was worth, felt suiting.
"What once, was, mine..." he murmured the end of the song to himself. This is all I have left to hope for? Sleeping? He sighed heavily, although his every breath lately was like a sigh. I might as well be in a prison cell. The pictures that played through his mind of his best friend, yet again, compared their situations, again. They're almost better off than me, in a prison cell.
Behind him, the solid wood bedroom door swung open, shooting a flinch through his already adrenaline-soaked body before he even consciously registered any of it. Servants opened the door more gently, so it had to be... Stalyan.
"Ugh, still in bed, again, Flynn?! What is the matter with you? I swear, you never have any energy!"
Eugene. He clenched his jaw. Yet he still kept his eyes closed, and tried to pretend he was asleep.
"And awgh, Flynn, you didn't eat any of this?!" She sighed. "It's a sin to waste, food, you know."
Eugene. And since when do you care about sins?
The heels clacked closer, all the way to the foot of the bed where they pointedly halted. "FLYNN!" she screamed as loud as she could.
Eugene. He did not budge, still counting on being taken for sleeping.
Suddenly, all of him was hit at once with cold air, as she pulled the covers completely off of him.
He shuddered and shivered, but scrambled to sitting upright, turning his legs to the side to cover himself from her. "HEY WHAT THE HELL!" He glowered at her.
"GET UP!" She threw a pair of pants at him, which he used his arm to block from hitting his face. "You're being spoiled here and all you can do is lounge in bed being pathetic!"
He felt his heart rate rise again, and jumbled words rushed to mind to defend himself, but lodged in his throat. All he could mumble out was a sarcastic, "Well good morning to you, too."
"Look at you!" she gestured, intent on continuing in her rage. "What are you doing?"
"I WAS sleeping," he snapped at her, as he pulled the pants on.
"Ugh," she scoffed again. "And when are you going to get that off your face?"
He stroked the faceful of scruff that he had spitefully neglected on his cheeks. Some parts were coming in nicely for a beard, but with barely grooming it, it mostly looked wild. "Oh, I'm sorry," he played dumb and squinted his eyes at her, "I thought I remembered you loved kissing guys with mustaches?" He did not notice his left fingers still fiddling again, still not completely accustomed to the metal in between them.
"Pfft, yeah right." She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she cocked her hips. "You've lost your memory along with your machismo."
He downright glared at her. "I haven't forgotten about Brandon."
She chuckled at him. "I told you, that didn't mean anything. Purely a professional interaction."
"Uh-huh," he grunted. "The world's oldest profession." He finally stood up, taking half a minute to steady himself and let his vision clear, thanks to his lack of eating or even being upright since he could not remember when. He busied himself with finding a shirt. He held up a blue one to the light.
"You cheated on me, too, ya know. Don't have to still be upset over that. That was yeeears ago."
The blue shirt was snatched out of his hands and tossed away. He dropped his shoulders and huffed at her. "And you don't get why I stay in bed."
"Ohhh," she played along on his words. One hand slid up and over to grope his bicep, the other caressed his chest, while he tensed under the touch. "You want to stay in bed?" She chuckled suggestively.
He lifted his face to the ceiling, teeth gritted and lips pursed. "Stalyan...!" he tried to growl her name out threateningly. But her hand on his face startled him into looking back down at her. She smiled slyly, and grabbed him by the hips. "I thought you wanted me to get-" He stopped himself.
"Up?" she laughed, expecting him to join in, as if it were friendly banter. He merely flared his nose in disgust at her, while she rolled her pelvis against his. Her hands moved back up his naked torso, to latch behind his neck, signaling him to lean down. He steeled his neck, flexing those and his trap muscles to keep his lips from her. Successfully discouraged, she stepped back, frowning, and dropped her petticoat, revealing her neck and shoulders. She began quickly unbuttoning her corset, as Eugene fired daggers into her eyes. She smirked devilishly, as the corset dropped to the floor and she whipped the undershirt off. His eyes never left her face. She stepped up to him and grabbed his reluctant wrists to place over her breasts. "Well, Rider?"
His hardest-set face would never deter her, so he changed his strategy. He closed his eyes, and dove in. He purposely scraped his facial hair against her, as he nearly bit at her lips. She snickered as they fought over control of the kiss, but once Eugene got a hold of her tongue, he sucked as hard as he could, to cause as much pain as he could. His hands fought hers for their release, and won there, as well. However, he used his hands to gather up her skirt. He gripped her hips, and lifted her, pulling the kiss apart as she squealed at it. He tossed her onto the bed, and climbed over her, keeping her skirt turned up.
She was rubbing under her jaw and working her tongue around strangely. "Fuck, Flynn, that-"
"Shutchyer face," he hissed. One hand gripped her throat. With the other, one finger snagged her panties aside, then all but his thumb sank in between her lips and went wild. I hate that I know this all - that I know YOU this well. He tried not to listen to himself, tried to let the Flynn mask hide his thoughts as well.
She gasped, feeling herself getting wetter by the moment, spurred on by him executing her choking fetish just right. Still, nervous about all of their circumstances, she gripped his wrist with both hands, but all it changed was that she was reassured of how much stronger than she he still was. "Hoh... my goh..." she breathed.
He concentrated on staring her down, and what he was doing. She started moaning, and he bit his own tongue to the side as he carefully played with her according to each sound she made. As soon as he recognized that she was on her way to an orgasm building, he stopped. He gave her throat one more shove down into the pillow and released her, and removed his hand from below, sure to wipe the mess from his hand with the outside of her black skirt. "There."
She caught her breath and laughed darkly at him as he stood up. "Tsk, tsk, Rider!" Her femme fatale tone kicked up an octave to play cute. "It's rude to leave unfinished business!"
"Well maybe you should take your business somewhere else," he tried making his words cut right through her. "Maybe somewhere you could actually satisfy a man for once."
She hmphed as she sat up. "Brandon had no problem getting satisfied. I think, it's all in your head, Sweetie." She ran her fingers through his hair, much to his displeasure.
He jerked his head away from her. "Are we done here?" he asked impatiently.
"No," she growled.
He stuck a finger out in her face. "You said I had to marry you. Nobody said anything about either of us having to enjoy it."
"That's the point, Rider," she said with all the sultriness just dripping off her words. She knelt up against his arm, and ran a hand over his chest. "To pay you back for all the pain and misery you've caused me all these years. Frankly, it's the least you deserve for how you hurt me."
For a moment of conscience, he leaned back against her. "Well, like I have said, I know you were very hurt. I did that, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I handled things." Suddenly he shook his head and jumped to his feet to tower over her. "But then you're stuck right here in hell with me."
"Then why on Earth did you ask me to marry you in the first place, Flynn?" she whined angrily.
He threw his hands up to his head and then down again in frustration. "And again- it's Eugene!" he shouted in her face.
She stood as she replaced her undershirt and got right back in his face. "No, it's not," she cooed.
"Yes, it is!"
"No it's NOT!"
"YESITIS!"
Her hand sprang out so fast and slapped him so hard, that it took him a moment to realize he had been hit.
He froze facing the new direction the force had turned him, as the familiar sting took over and his jaw trembled. He bit the inside of his cheek to recover.
She merely stared him down, daring him to make one more show of defiance. "Get. Dressed. ...Flynn."
Finally, with glassy reddening eyes, he turned back to look at her, trying to control his bottom lip. Without turning his back to her or even taking his eyes off her, he stooped down and gently collected her corset and petticoat.
"That's more like it," she grinned as she held her hands out to accept the clothing.
But Eugene switched back to exposing how seriously pissed off he was. He shoved the clothing into her chest, which she clutched in shock. He started walking towards her as he pushed her back, forcing her to walk backwards, towards the door. He reached past her to open it, so she could continue backstepping out to the hallway. At the last moment, though, he felt even this was too nice, and shoved her across the hallway. She hit the opposite wall and stumbled to the floor with a yelp. Stunned to say the least, she looked up to see the food cart also sailing toward her. It did not hit too hard, and bounced off her, before tipping over to the ground and scattering the food. As soon as she could peer over the tipped-over cart, she just caught Eugene slamming the door closed in a sweeping fashion.
He still wanted to yell out and scream at her, but he had no words. Tears, though? Tears a-plenty were bubbling up fast. Oh no no no no. No. This is BAD. He ran his hands over his face, but they were just as hot. He rushed over to the basin on the dresser and wet a cloth to dab his face with. He forced a couple deep breaths through his lungs, and forced his mind to empty. Next refuge? Lance.
He went back to finding a shirt. He found a bold red one that seemed to match the color of Stalyan's corset, so he put it on. She should like this one. Or at least not make fun of it. He pulled brown boots on over black pants. Until something the right shade of teal turned up, this color combination would have to do. He fixed the deep V-neck, accented in mustard, and added his belt. In the back of his mind, he felt like something was not quite right with himself. A familiar something, but he could not put his finger on it. This is your life now – No! I won't let this be my life! I will fight! – But, she's just gonna hurt me again... He returned to leaning over the basin, going back and forth between making a war face, and crumbling in the mirror.
It had taken Stalyan a minute to quickly throw the corset and petticoat back over herself. She stomped back up to the door and tried the knob; locked. "Ugh! FLYNN!" Fists pounded on the door briefly. Finally, she fished the key out of her pocket, and unlocked the door. She flung it back open and let it smash a vase.
Eugene's head darted up, his full body betraying his skittish state. The panic resumed.
Stalyan slowly marched back in, in a seething calm. Her voice was just below normal volume. "You know, you used to be a great partner. You used to dream of a better life, a life like this, in even a modest sized castle. You were driven, wouldn't let anything stand in your way. Strong, commanding, quick-witted. You used to actually allow yourself to enjoy life."
Eugene could only gawk at her, desperately focusing on breathing steadily, and desperately blocking out all she was saying.
"What happened, Flynn?" she whined. "I have missed you so much, but now," she scoffed sadly, "Now?" She sniffled, as if only she had the right to cry, then dramatically composed herself, "Look…" She stepped up, rubbing his arms in a comforting fashion. "I know," she dipped her head in concession. "Thisss- whole thing started out, weird. I know it's been a big change for you. No one is asking you to take it in overnight. But believe me," she took his hands, "You and me? Us, as a team again? Actually with my father's blessing and living here? It doesn't get any better than this." A sweet smile appeared on her lips.
Pfft, I know it's 'not gonna get any better,' he thought sourly. But- hey, wait! He finally pulled his hands back, gaping at her in horror, but not really seeing her.
Stalyan turned morose again and sighed. "You promised her that you would marry her, and she promised that you could be a prince? Right?"
Eugene's chest sank, and he shook his head ever so slightly.
"No?" she suggested, genuinely shocked.
He realized he should speak up and answer her. He had danced around admitting the full truth to her til now. There were only so many battles he could fight at once, and he did not want to disguise this truth from himself any longer either. "N-no. We-" he took a big breath. "We were never engaged."
She smirked at the delicious news. "Then were they really ever going to let you be prince? If even she wasn't committed to it?" Her expression looked like one of compassion. "Welllll, thennn, I guess I probably spared you the agony of rejection, and you're even still among nobility. You're lucky to be here, Flynn."
Eugene.
"I'm lucky to have you back. And," she chuckled, "Lucky my dad agreed with forgiving you." She paused, watching him, waiting for a response.
But Eugene just stood there staring back, waiting for a prompt he was required to answer a certain way. DON'T let it get to you. Damn why DO I need to be so sensitive?!
Stalyan continued on anyway. "Do you really think," she shrugged, "The king would have allowed you to be officially engaged even? To his newfound daughter?"
'If there's one man in this world I take very seriously, it's you.' Eugene whispered with barely the tiniest of croaks. "Yes..."
"And you believe them? The man who was trying to get you hanged til you showed up with his daughter? Flynn, you know he had to just be tolerating you. He HAD to show you some gratitude out of politeness for saving the princess. He's a king, running a country. That's just one of the things that's part of their job; making you believe everything's alright even if the sky is falling down around you. It used to be our job! To lie, in order to get what we had to. YOU used to be good at it, and at picking out when people were lying to you. So now tell me WHY, would he tell the whole truth, to a thief like you?"
"No, he- he TRUSTED me-" 'They- they did NOT do a very good job counting these rocks.' 'Do you think your dad lied?' His eyes widened.
"You believed he trusted you."
He held his head up higher, to let gravity tilt the the last of his tears back into his sinuses.
"So," she shrugged sympathetically, "You're not gonna be the next Prince. But you already are the next Baron – lock, stock, and barrel."
Part of him balled up in a hole the size of his wedding ring and sat with that title crushing down on his head. The other part lashed out, quietly. "Any chance that you're barren?"
She was not amused, but still passive aggressively wistful, so she ignored his insult. "You can be that great partner again. Because right now? I see none of that."
'Cause I'm not playing Flynn Rider anymore! He narrowed his eyes.
She smiled with sarcastic vitriol. "But congratulations. You got dressed today."
"Can I go now?" he snapped before his brain could process anything else.
"I'm not stopping you – well," she snickered, "Not stopping you from your wandering aimlessly around the castle."
"I'm going to see Lance."
"Hm, good."
Eugene froze. "'Good?' What's- Why are you saying 'good' like that?"
"So that you remember what you still have to lose, if you don't come to your senses soon."
He grimaced at her, and stormed out.
Down in the dungeon, he walked right up to the cell he had memorized. "Hey there, stranger."
Shorty and Hook Foot were asleep, having become synced with Eugene's usual waking hours.
Lance looked up from where he was sitting in the best light from the tiny window, reading. "Ah-haaah, getting down here when the sun is still up? Ya know I was starting to think she'd turned you into a vampire."
"Hah, hah," he teased, but was genuinely amused. "Vampires don't look so dashing in mirrors." He held his chin out and stroked it.
Lance shook his head with a smile as he walked up to the bars. He already knew why his reflection-obsessed buddy was letting his hair go. They reached through the bars and embraced. "How ya holdin up?"
Eugene backed up, but dropped the facade to reveal how miserable he was. He squeaked out a tiny, "Eh..."
Lance shook his head again. He slid back down to the floor. He lowered his voice to their usual low range for talking about such things. "They're tryin to break you, ya know," he nodded towards him.
Eugene just cast his gaze away, and joined him on the floor. His lips quivered again, and his throat felt like it was closing up. He barely managed to choke out, "I'm scared that it's working." He sniffled and lifted his face to the ceiling again. "It's been two weeks today."
Lance frowned for his friend. "Ya know, I hate to say this, but if they went home, we're less than a week away..."
So they should have been back already. "I know," he squeaked again.
Lance looked away and rubbed his neck, regretful. "Maybe you shouldn't've-"
Eugene coughed to interrupt him. "Nonsense. Don't say that."
A tiny smile turned the corners of his mouth ever so slightly upward every time he reassured him.
Eugene tried to compose himself, genuinely calmed down a bit. "You're worth it. Whatever shit I gotta go through here, you're worth it. And, at least we're not alone." He tried to give him a smile.
"Thanks, Eugene."
"Anything for you, man." Eugene perked up the slightest bit, glad his sacrifice was not in vain, so long as his best friend was still alive. With that topic spent for today, though, there was only one other thing Eugene was bursting to gush about. "Ummm, so, what are you reading?"
"The Crucible." He shrugged.
Eugene's face immediately quirked. He turned and examined the books he was holding more carefully. He smiled slyly. "Uh-huh. And inside of that?"
Lance grinned, holding up the set of books. "The Count of Monte Cristo!"
They laughed together, but then fell back to a comfortable silence. Lance resumed reading, and Eugene tried to doze off where he sat against the wall. But, his mind would not let him go. He could not help but start through the whole thing yet again. "Do you think she misses me?"
Lance sighed, but knew they had nothing else to talk about besides this and speculation about this. "I think she does. Look how crazy she went over losing the frog."
"Chameleon." Eugene smirked wistfully. He knew how badly he even missed Pascal's supportive smiles and cute antics.
"Nuance."
They both chuckled. He remembered her face from that night. 'I'llll get my boots.' A smile spread across his face without him realizing. He eventually sighed again, though. "I just wish I knew what to make of our last conversation..." He had said 'last conversation' enough times over the past two weeks that it had lost its punch and had just become a fact.
"Eugene, we tried tellin ya, and you've been in it for two weeks already. Don't you get it yet? That marriage is just another form of prison? Another form of entrapment, another form of keeping somebody all to yourself. In other words, it's all about power, and control, and status."
In his tiniest voice, Eugene whispered, "It shouldn't be..." He bit his lip and shook his head. "But, regardless of whatever the world may think a 'marriage' should be, I know what I wanted for us, and that was not it."
Lance shrugged. "Aaand regardless of what you think," he repeated, "The princess needs an official 'marr-ahge.'"
"She's the one in the royal bloodline," Eugene thrust his hand out to emphasize. "She would still retain all the power anyway. Maybe if she wasn't the next ruler, we could debate this, but she is the next ruler. So it doesn't matter that I'm the guy. I can't very well 'take freedom away' from someone who will always outrank me." He dropped his head back against the stone wall. "Believe me, if I could, I wouldn't be stuck here. Same situation; Stalyan's the heir. Just worse conditions for me.
"But," Eugene tilted his head in thought, "Royal or not, I would never want to take her freedom away. I died for her to have it. And I did what I could this past year for her to at least feel as free as possible. Even stood up to the scariest, most intimidating man in my life."
Lance raised a brow at him. "You don't find the Baron at least a little intimidating?"
"I don't care what the Baron thinks of me. The King, I do." He shook his head. "I owe him my life, and he's the closest I'll ever get to a father. But, it's me who was looking out for her freedom. I know how precious it is to her. I wanted a commitment of love, not a sacrifice of freedom..."
"Listen, man, I know you love her. And you two did have a great relationship. I know you wanted the best for her. I'm not sayin you shouldn't have wanted to marry her. Not to mention, livin in the castle was great! But, what I was trying to say is, she's too new to the world. She needs time to adjust, and to really be able to trust you. I know you say you do trust each other, but you two clearly still have your own issues. Hers is trusting someone to get that close, officially. It's gonna be a big, permanent, change for her. "
Eugene was still lost in his own thoughts, hardly hearing him. ...I really did all that this past year? "Lance?"
"Yeah, Eugene?"
He tensed up, leaning back on his hands, staring into the dirt floor, and gulped. "I feel like I'm not Me anymore..."
A/N: Not a one-shot. Mwahaha. What do you think so far?
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