I...was not expecting this reception. -gathers reviews and curls on them like a dragon- Mmm, treasure. (Thank you, everyone!)

My eternal thanks to Wolfram-and-Hart-Sauron who willingly put on a beta hat for me. He's even dealing with my nonlinear writing, which already has a bunch of stuff all out of order. In a short few days, with his suggestions and our general writing back and forth, I sometimes think he knows my brain better than I do and I ponder wearing a tinfoil hat.

Random: I did some math. If Rapunzel is five foot tall and has a twelve inch doll made to scale, her hair would be fourteen feet long. That's about the length of two Michael Jordans, one standing on the other's shoulders. (I dunno why I did the math on that. (But I am amazed I remembered that incredibly simple formula, I hate math.) Guess I was just annoyed all her dolls only have hair down to her ankles or something.)

Disclaimer: If I owned the movie, Tangled's sequel would have been a movie. Likely very boring, but a movie nonetheless. And full of too much cuddling and not enough adventure. So, as much as I hate to admit it, it's a very good thing I don't own Tangled.

While this is an AU, I really want to keep the core of the characters, if that makes sense. If I didn't have that, this may as well be an original fiction. So please, if they get too far out of the realm of believability for who they are at the core, please let me know.

Shifting Colors

The Princess stood still as her maid adjusted her shoes. They were her first with heels, and though they were not too tall, the unfamiliar angle sent her toes to be crushed by the odd, angled point.

"I heard about these shoes from my cousin." The maid straightened the Princess's stalkings. "They are going wild about them in the larger kingdoms. How lucky you are to be the first to wear them here."

The Princess arched an eyebrow. Luck was not something she thought of with her toes being crushed.

"Of course, you would be. The first. I did not mean to say otherwise." Though nice enough, this new maid was funny. She would say something, then explain why she said it or amend her words. It made the Princess sad, though, because even though the maid was nice, she never listened.

There was a short knock on the door before it opened. The Princess knew who it was, her father being out of town and no one else dared to knock. What was her mother doing here?

"I can take it from here, Mildred." The maid nodded and left the main chamber. "There has been a change in your schedule today, dear. I am taking you to the library."

The Princess froze before following the Queen out of the room. Thursdays were normally her one day away from lessons. Was there something new? Had her mother told her but she had forgotten? The Princess had been preoccupied with thoughts of her Storyteller and wishing to see him again that more than once her tutors snapped her back to attention with a smart smack of a ruler against the wood table.

As they neared the library, the Princess felt trepidation well inside her. Perhaps her tutors had told the Queen of her lack of concentration. Was there some unknown punishment waiting for her? Was it a room full of pinchy shoes from all around the world, each one waiting to gobble her from the ankles up? Or was she doomed to an eternity of studying nothing but geography and math until supper?

"Here we are." The Queen nodded toward the guard, who pushed open the large doors. There were several guards here, more than she was used to. Were they here to ensure she could not escape when her tutor's back was turned?

She was expecting an afternoon of torment. She was expecting a balding man in crisp clothes with a face that was pinched more than her toes. She was not expecting the young man, clothes clean but worn and hair pointing to everywhere and nowhere. She was not expecting a cacophony of expressions, from nervousness to amusement to mischief.

Closing her mouth, the Princess looked up at her mother. This could not really be happening.

"I requested his assistance, and Mr. Fitzherbert has agreed," the Queen said. Her eyes twinkled. "Thursdays are now for your Storyteller."

"Hey, Blondie."

At the sound of his voice she knew it was real. The ache in her toes confirmed it. With aching cheeks she rushed forward, stopping inches away to stare up at him. Turning to her mother, she bounced in place before turning back. Colors grew brighter around her and the once stuffy room was transformed into a limitless well of potential.

"I will leave you two," the Queen said. "And I will have the cook prepare something for you both later this afternoon."

The Princess did not know what to do with herself. She felt as though she would expand to fill the entire castle as the door shut.

"You know, if you smile like that at night the ships would have an easier time docking." Her Storyteller shifted and looked around. There was a sudden awkwardness about him and for a moment his demeanor reminded her of an errant puzzle piece that got mixed in the wrong box. That thought made her inexorably sad because he had been that one piece that had always been missing.

She clutched the sleeve of his shirt and tugged. The coarse fabric was unlike any of the sheer satins or velvet in her home and held his warmth. She wanted to wrap herself in it.

"Right," her Storyteller said as he sat down in a plush chair. He jerked as surprise filled his eyes when he sank down. He was quick to recover and grin at her. "Rumor has it you like stories."

The Princess ducked her head. She had not until him. Before, stories had been nothing more than words and letters. He wove them together to make a brilliant tapestry come to life.

"Yeah, well, you got weird taste." He looked around the room some more. "Now, I may not know much, but I do know that proper introductions are important. My name's Eugene."

The Princess stared at him. What exactly was he expecting from her?

"I'm not going to read to you until you tell me your name." Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms as he looked at her.

The Princess stared at him. He knew her name, everyone did. So why did he want her to tell him? She wondered if he would cave and just start reading. Eventually, everyone gave up trying to get her to talk.

When he shifted in his chair, maybe ten minutes later, she thought he had given up, as well. She was happy, because that meant a story was coming, but her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

"I told you, Blondie. I'm not going to read until you tell me. I can do this all night if it takes that long." Eugene set down the book he brought and picked up the one at the edge of the small table beside his chair. He flipped through pages, his eyes skimming over words. Soon, the only sound in the room was that of the crackling fire behind him and the occasional shifting of paper.

At first she was furious. Turning her back on him, she plopped on the floor with a serious pout on her face. Why was he doing this? It wasn't fair!

Soon, though, she wanted to hear his story. She wanted to hear his voice and watch his face as it got excited. Looking over her shoulder she saw he was intently focused on the book. His face held none of the excitement she remembered and she did not like it. Standing she quietly walked toward him. He ignored her completely as he turned a page.

She placed a tentative hand on his arm. "Hm?" he said.

"Rapunzel." The name was strange on her tongue and odder still to her ears.

"Thank goodness, that book is so dull." He tossed the thick tome back on the table and slumped in his chair. "There's only so much a guy can take about the taxation of lettuce before he wants to off himself!"

She was not sure what he meant, but he was alive again. She grinned widely at him as she picked up the book he brought and held it out to him.

He took it, but looked at her. "Why was that so hard for you?"

She shifted and stared at at her tiny shoes.

"Hey," he said after a moment. "You wanna take off your shoes?"

She looked at him as though he were the oddest creature on earth. Take off her shoes? She always had to wear shoes except in the bath and her bed. She was a Princess. She pointed at her crown to remind him of that.

He rolled his eyes as he reached toward it. He plucked it off her head and sat in on the table, over the book about lettuce taxing. "Well, not right now, you're not. If I'm gonna be pulled out of my element, so are you. When I'm here, you're not gonna be a Princess, you're just gonna be Blondie."

Not be a Princess? The thought terrified as well as thrilled her. Even at her young age, she knew she would still be a Princess, despite what he said. But she could pretend she wasn't. And he would let her. He would not scorn her, tell her that taking off her shoes was not something a Princess did. She could probably slouch or lay on the carpet, or even sit without crossing her ankles. She could probably even take her hair down.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The Princess did not realize she was crying. It was not even the loud cries she sometimes did, just the flowing of water from her eyes. Still, now she realized it, and she began to hiccup as she tried to stop. He touched her arm just as she fell to the floor, ripping off her pointed shoe with the pointed heel and pointed toe. Her vision was too blurry, so it took longer, but he was working on her other shoe. He slipped it off her foot and handed it to her. She threw it at the other chair before tearing off her stocking. That made it a few feet before the lack of weight for momentum eased it gently on the carpet. Soon her feet were free, her footwear nowhere by. She paused a moment, still sniffling, to flex her toes against the soft carpet.

"There." Eugene gave the arches of her feet a firm rub. "Are you ready for a story yet? You have to be pretty comfy to get into it, you know."

The Princess paused a moment, thinking. Then, with a shy glance up at him, reached for the silk binding holding her hair in place. She tried to work it loose herself, but someone always did it for her when she had to have it washed. It would take forever, but she loved those rare days when her hair floated freely around her while drying. She wanted to sleep with it down, but no one ever undid it for her. She figured as a Princess, she would not be allowed to.

Still, she knew her hair was an oddity. Young though she was, she never missed the looks she received when a hair washer was new. She noticed that no one else's hair was as long, or as blonde, as hers. Even though she loved her hair, she still felt ashamed of it.

His fingers joined hers. He fumbled with the ties and straps but she did not mind. "Now, I gotta say, Blondie, I don't know much about girls' hair. Betty always does the brushing and braiding of the younguns. However, let me know if I pull too hard. I know that's supposed to hurt. Tom pulled on Erica's braid last week, and she socked him clean in the eye. I think he kinda likes her and wow that's a lot of hair."

Her hair was free and tumbled to the floor. She noticed he was staring at her, and even though he looked at her in an odd way, it wasn't the same as others. Still, her hair was free. She giggled as she gathered some in her hands and danced around, trailing the blonde hair behind her.

When she stopped, she looked up at him. He was still staring at her hair. Shy now, she pulled some over an eye as she turned away.

"Well, I know a guy with six toes. How is long hair any weirder?" he asked as he sat back down. "Now, are you ready for your story?"

Excited, she nodded and skipped toward him. She leaned against the arm of the chair as she stared up at him in expectation and excitement.

"This is a long one, Blondie. You may wanna get comfortable."

He shifted over in the chair, making room for her. Happily she curled against his side

"Thank you." she said just as he started to read.

He read on as though he did not hear, but squeezed her shoulder and read to her until his voice was hoarse.

-end Part Two

I have a good idea where I'm going with this. As of now, it looks like it will be in two long parts, which is gonna be over several chapters each. I just need to hammer out details and try to write in a linear fashion...