Chapter 3

Frank came into the bunk that night grinning ear to ear.

"He ate the whole thing, sir, just like I said he would."

A few sighed in relief, while others laughed.

"Finally, a good use for that voice of yours."

"Can't say I blame him, I'd eat a sea worm if I thought it would make you stop that caterwauling."

"I threw him overboard once, just to make him stop."

"Good work, Frank." Perrault said.

Frank nodded. "Worked on my kid brother every time."

Cecil stood, raising a hand for attention. "I will be taking the midday shift for a while to thank you all for using your free time to cook for our young friend. I will do the cooking tomorrow as well. If anyone has any recipes they want to share feel free to jot them down for me. Oh, and someone check up on Geneviève and the ladies on deck and see how they are faring. If they are not well soon I'll have to send them ashore for further medical attention."

"Enough singing! I ate breakfast, what do you want from me?" Varian shouted at the sound of his approach. Cecil entered the room, with a folding table and chair over one hip and a tray balanced on the other.

"It's only me, child. Though I am glad you and Frank are getting along so well. I made this meal myself; do tell me if I got it right. Frank will be summoned if you refuse to eat, though."

He slid the tray through the slot and set the table up facing the young man's cell before lighting the lantern and rolling out his writing set. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy stared longingly at the plate. Was he still full from earlier? This self-imposed starvation must have started earlier than they'd thought. Varian had been imprisoned for a month at this point; how long could a boy his size last without food? More disturbingly, had the boy been trying to find that out for himself? They'd have to keep a close eye on him while they could.

Cecil shook his head, going back to the work at hand. He had finished the bulk of his paperwork earlier that day, at the moment he had seven sisters waiting for seven letters.

It was cool in the dungeon for such a warm day; hot for Corona, judging by the complaints of the castle staff. Back at home people would be rejoicing at the mild temperature. The ensigns were confused at the situation; some of the younger ones had apparently shipped off thinking they were being sent to an arid wasteland when they heard how far north Corona was. When he left the barracks that morning Ordannis had been trying to explain to a few that the temperature actually went down after going north past a certain point.

If this was considered hot then it was probably comfortable enough in the dungeon, but Cecil wrote a note to himself in his ledger to make sure the child had enough blankets at night just in case. The scratch of the pen filled the cell, the prisoner so quiet Cecil found himself glancing up just to make sure he was still there. Varian was starting to get color back at least, though he still looked like death.

Three hours later Cecil finally got to the last letter, finding himself at a loss of what to write. Tivita would be Varian's age by now; she'd been a toddler when he saw her last. Mama would be planning her youngest daughter's rite of passage soon, inviting the whole clan to the mountain estate to see her off. Maybe he'd actually be invited - maybe he'd actually go. The town bells chimed three. He stretched, looking up at Varian again. "Have you finished? Try to drink the juice if you can. You'll have to increase your fluid intake as well."

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You need to stay hydrated and this should help supplement your calorie intake until your body has readjusted to—"

"Why do you care?" Varian spat, treble rising. "Don't you know who I am? What I've done?"

"The mad alchemist? Yes, you'll have to tell me about that someday. It is not often one gets to hear the story from the antagonists themselves."

"So that's it?" He demanded, gesturing wildly around the cell. "Come stare at the screw up, get rich writing his failures?"

"Oh I'm already well off enough. I don't sell stories, just collect them. While I would love to hear the tale from you yourself, I don't particularly care if you tell me or not. It's your story to do with as you please."

Varian glared, arms crossed over his chest. "Then what's your angle?"

Cecil shrugged. "You need help, I want to help you."

"I don't want your help."

"That's a shame, because you have it regardless." He gestured to the plate in the boy's lap. "Try to finish it if you can."

Prince Varian started each time he caught his reflection in a frosted window, his gold hair hanging heavily on his tall lanky frame while a storm raged outside the palace.

'Fidella, where's mom and dad?'

There was something inherently wrong about all of this, though he couldn't explain what. Cassandra's gray eyes were far too soft as she took his hand before leading the thugs out into the cold, her sword in one hand and Lance's ear in her other as she dragged her brother along.

'It's alright, Blondie, we'll save them. We owe them that much.'

Eugene's hand landed on his shoulder, his face somehow looking too young behind his glasses. "Don't worry, kiddo, if anyone can save them it's Cassandra."

"Eugene," His own voice sounded wrong to his ears, far too deep. "Doesn't this all seem, wrong to you?"

The older man shrugged. "I mean it's a little early for snow but you'll have that. That Zhan Tiri's curse thing is just a fairy tale."

He shook his head. "No, I mean—"

"Prince Varian!" a small voice cried out over the din of the castle.

"Rapunzel?"

The young girl rushed to him, grabbing him by the shoulders, her blue black hair falling over her eyes.

"Varian! Your majesty, please, we have to hurry. Dad's in trouble!"

Something is wrong.

But the young alchemist was the same way she'd been yesterday when she confided in him that Frederic had been lying about the rocks.

"Rapunzel, what are…?"

"The rocks are encasing him, we have to hurry!"

Wrong.

The wind outside beat viciously at the window panes, shutters cracking in the cold.

"Encasing? Rap—"

"Please, there's no time!"

Nigel slammed his palms on the table. "Your Majesty, we must evacuate the island immediately. You can't leave now!"

Tears stung his eyes. "Rapunzel, I can't. I can't go now."

"B-but you promised!"

Zhan Tiri's curse waits for Corona to be at its weakest – this would never have happened if dad were here instead of him. THIS ISN'T RIGHT.

The guards dragged the child away as she screamed. "Varian! You promised!"

"Vaaarriiiannnn!" Warble called in a singsong voice that could only be described as a strangled yodel. "Time to wake uuuuppppp!"

Varian sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes like he could wipe away the last dregs of that dream. The smell of snow burned into his nostrils, slowly being replaced by the spicy sweet scent of breakfast. As much as he hated to admit it, the Gaian guards were great cooks, though everything they made was spicier than he was used to. That had to be the source of these strange dreams, all this spicy food was messing with his mind. Warble slid a tray through the slot in the bars, a steaming bowl waiting by a small vase of flowers.

"Any requests, Ottalno?"

"Get me out of here."

The man grinned. "Anything else?"

"Leave me alone." He rolled over on the cot, his back to the man.

Warble sighed. "Very well. The wind was a torrent of darkness, Among the guuusty trees, the mooooon was a ghostly galleon—"

Varian rolled his eyes. Here we see the Sandy billed Warbler outside of his natural habitat. An invasive species that drives natives to self-extinction with its shrieking cry. He pulled himself to his feet and went to investigate the bowl on the tray. Sweet potatoes, rice, fish and some kind of fruit he didn't recognize. Still, better than gruel. He purposefully took a bite, glaring at the sandy haired guard as he ate until the singing died down to humming.

A knock came on the door; Warble stopped humming all together to answer. Varian froze for a moment, afraid it's Bugle Boy showing up for a musical accompaniment. But he didn't recognize the rusty haired guard outside the door. They spoke to each other in hushed tones in a foreign tongue before Warble turned back to him, smiling.

"It seems I am needed elsewhere, Ottalno. Pennen will take over for a time and he is excited to meet you. Mind your language now, child."

The man approached, holding a book.

"'Ello, Ottalno. Pennen will read now, yes? Practice English speaking. Pennen read, Ottalno listen."

Varian rolled his eyes, laying back in his cot with the breakfast bowl. He would have preferred bugle boy. A paragraph into the man's halted English, Varian realized the man was reading a scientific journal. A new one at that; he'd been looking forward to this one for months, ever since the author announced his thesis statement. Had it been that long already?

Varian found himself on the edge of his seat, helping the man with his pronunciation when he stumbled.

Pennen's face fell when Sandy came to collect him for the end of their shift.

"Tomorrow, Ottalno?"

Varian coached his face into a hard line as he shrugged. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

"He's talking more." Ordannis said.

"Oh?" Cecil spoke to the man's reflection in the mirror of his private room while he tried taming his hair. It was going to rain soon if the frizz was any indication.

"Yes," Ordannis chuckled. "Our Ottalno calls me all sorts of names that would make Felicie blush."

Cecil shook his head, knocking the comb to the vanity. "That sounds about right. Are you sure you can handle the troops today?"

"Aye, sir, you go enjoy some sun. Oh, the doctor said the ladies will be clear for duty in two days."

"Excellent. I hope the men have enjoyed their freedom while Geneviève was gone." He'd finally get some proper time to himself with his Captain and Commander back.

Ordannis shook his head. "I'm more worried about the men of Corona, sir. They've never met a Teemah'No woman before, and we're releasing one hundred of them into their capital city. They won't know what hit them."

"You're making it sound like the running of the bulls. They know how to behave themselves." He sighed inwardly at his reflection. Maybe he'd get less attention on the streets if he left his ear cuffs behind.

"Aye, they do. But northern men, they are not always, what is the word… respectful, of answers they don't want to hear."

"Well, then that is their problem. If they cannot respect a soft 'no', then they will fear a harsh 'never'." Maybe Ordannis had the right idea shaving his head. He gave up, finally sliding the orangewood pin through the leather clasp in his hair.

"If they fail to do that, sir?"

He smirked, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Then I believe the phrase Geneviève would use is, 'I will see you in hell.'"

He'd meant to tour the capital more today, maybe try that pub just out of town that Stan and Pete had recommended. Something about a duck? Nothing in the shops seemed right for his sisters, even the famed lanterns of Corona were sold out for the year. Soon he found himself in front of the blacksmiths shop, hesitating. Surely Xavier was too busy for company this early in the day? No, he'd tell him if he was. At the very least he could get the old man's opinion on gifts for his sisters.

"Hello again, friend."

"Perrault! You're right on time; I was just setting up for lunch."

Xavier set the kettle down on the makeshift table.

"So, how did Varian like the meal?" the old man asked.

"How…?"

"I had a feeling that if there was any prisoner you'd be concerned about enough to go to all that trouble for, it would be Varian."

"He seemed to love it, though he didn't say as much. He doesn't say much of anything, unless it's insults. But he's eating again, and looking better every day."

"Good. Now, it's your turn to start the stories."

Cecil started a story of the mighty Maui and his quest for immortality, only to be surprised when Xavier finished the last lines of the story along with him.

"You could have stopped me sooner." Cecil chuckled, shaking his head. Disappointing, but not surprising. He was fairly certain the blacksmith had traveled farther than he ever would.

Xavier laughed at his crestfallen expression. "Ah, but I haven't heard that one in years; and you tell it so much better than I do, friend. More tea?"

"Yes, please." Xiavier stood, putting the kettle back on. Cecil sat in silence for a while, staring into his empty cup.

"Did you know him?" Cecil finally asked.

"Know him? You mean Varian?" Xavier sighed. "Yes, I knew him. Though maybe not as well as I thought I did."

"What was he like? Surely he hasn't always been..." he shrugged, his English failing him. "Like that."

The older man sat back down, pouring more tea. "I've known him his whole life. I was at his christening, you know. I'm still shocked his parents made that trip with a baby in the snow, but his mother was a stubborn one. She became ill and died a few months later and his father never remarried."

"He had no relatives to help?" Cecil asked softly.

Xavier shook his head, eyes downcast. "They had moved to Corona shortly before Varian was born. He said his son was the only family he had left."

He swallowed. "Raising a child alone cannot be easy."

"No, it certainly wasn't. Varian didn't make it easy either, poor child. He was such a good boy, so bright and full of life. As soon as he could talk he was just bursting with questions. I'm not sure how he discovered alchemy but since he was five that was all he could talk about, that and his books. But he never fit in with kids his own age and the adults were convinced he was doing some kind of witchcraft with his machines and potions that so often ended in disaster. I don't think he ever really had any friends. He wanted to help people, always going on about changing the world."

"So what went wrong?" he asked, dread filling his stomach over a story that had already played out.

"He made friends. The first friends he'd ever had and when he needed them most they couldn't help. As a result his father died. That's all I know for sure, anything else you'd have to get from Varian himself."

"I'll ask him, if he can stop sneering at the guards long enough to form a polite sentence. Getting him to eat was enough of a battle."

Xavier nodded sadly. "You know, a few years ago I approached his father about an apprenticeship. Varian's machines really were remarkable, even if they didn't always work. He seemed so lonely in Old Corona I thought a change of scene and some new direction would help him. Maybe if he could learn to pace himself he'd have been able to get better results."

"His father refused?"

"Wouldn't hear of it. I brought it up every now and then but I don't think his age would have made a difference. Raising his son was hard, but letting him go would have been too much."

Cecil stared into his empty cup, looking for ships and shores in the tea leaves but seeing only a waning gibbous.

"You've gone somewhere, my friend."

"Yes, I've just realized I have a letter to write." He stood, handing Xavier his cup.

"Thank you, friend, same time next week?"

"I'll be here. Maybe you can actually manage to stump me then."

"Always up for the challenge."