Rapunzel's Point of View
That first day of Eugene being in prison, or rather, what was left of the day after the trial, was torture. I'd never felt such consuming pain and emotion, so I stayed upstairs, and cried out 18 years worth of tears into my lavender sheets and blew my nose on the gauzy drapes of my oversized canopy bed. I know, it sounds like I was feeling sorry for myself and being weak…but Eugene was gone. He was, and still is, my everything, and I was powerless against his fate. What else could I do?
Even my parents had let me alone to scream into my pillows to my heart's content. After several hours of nonstop yelling and sobbing and gasping, dying inside from the loss of the love of my life, my throat had been rubbed so raw that I could hardly whisper. Every drop of liquid in my body was gone, along with every last shred of hope for my new dream coming true. Life was rotten.
My eyes watery, face swollen and throbbing, and long pink dress sopping with tears, I dizzily sat up around five 'o clock, desperately needing some ginger ale. That's what Mo – um, I mean, Gothel, had always given me when I felt ill, and I could really use a glass of it right then. However, I didn't want to ring for room service, which Mama had said I always could, day or night…there was a panel on the wall next to my bed with several buzzers I could tap whenever I wanted something. Apparently, it was the newest, most convenient technology out there, installed especially for me, but I hated to be waited on. I'd rather get the ale myself.
I swung my legs over the bed and groggily made my way to the door, and turned left towards the stairwell. I passed no one down the hall; I was only accompanied by slightly fluttering curtains and open windows as I padded down the marble corridor. I headed for the lovely, plush-carpeted, gilded stairwell that I loved so much; it was clad with carvings of angels in the gleaming golden walls and had fresco paintings on the ceiling. Normally, I'd smile just looking at this room…there was a red velvet couch on the landing between my floor and the one below, and Eugene and I would often sit there as he read me stories about pirates and thieves and swashbuckling heroes…
Eugene.
I passed only a laundry-maid who tried to avert her gaze while I went down the stairs. I smiled weakly at her, wiping my nose. Even though I felt terrible, she shouldn't – she already had to spend her time waiting on people rather than having fun. I needn't make her day more miserable with my mourning.
I reached the second floor of the housing wing and, just as I was about to turn to what was the first floor of the main palace, I saw the plaque on the wall that read, "Floor 2: Apartments". My face, drained of all color, twisted in remembrance. This was where Eugene's room had been…
Without a second notion, I hiked up my tear-stained skirts and fled down the hall, forsaking the ginger ale.
My heart pounded in my ears like drums, and my head pulsated with every slap of my bare feet on the cold marble floor. I almost accidentally knocked over some other laundry maids – must've been laundry day – in my rush to get to Eugene's quarters, with a stupid, blind hope that he'd be there, driving me on down the hall .
Gasping for breath and my vision darkening around the corners of my eyes, I reached door 229, the room directly under my own, apartment 329. I placed a hand on the brass knob, the metal sending chills through my arms and legs. I bit my lip in anticipation, praying that this was all just a dream, and with one push, I flung open the door and stood there, chest heaving, and stared at the painfully empty, well-lit room. Sugary sunshine bounced off the whitewashed walls, mocking my pain, whispering, Be glad he's not dead. You're a luckier girl than you think.
I closed the door behind me with a soft click, every breath I took only slightly laborious than the last. Deflated and defeated, I leaned back against the door, my lungs and throat burning. My fingers slid over the handle, locking it so no one could get in – not that I thought anyone would come and bother me.
I slowly crossed the room to the door leading out to the balcony and stood the doorway. I squinted my green eyes against the harsh sunlight, my heavy heart throbbing low in my stomach, as a slight breeze rustled through my short-cropped hair. It was nice to feel the wind on my scalp, but the nice weather was just too good. It didn't make sense for nature to seem so cheery while I felt like my heart had just been ripped out of my chest and dropped into the courtyard below.
The sun warm on my sore face, its rays seemed to cradle me in their arms, and I felt so close to it that almost thought I had its power again. However, even if I did, no amount of healing powers could bring Eugene back to me now.
"I wish we could enjoy this beautiful day together, Eugene," I whispered, hugging myself. Despite the warm, breezy evening, my chest cavity was freezing cold, and my heart felt like a chunk of ice.
Sighing gustily, I turned back inside and flopped down on Eugene's bed, the mattress springs screeching in protest. I wanted to just see him again; know he was alright. Was that so wrong?
With a groan, stomach down, I pressed my nose into his sheets. The strong scent of Eugene surrounded me – It was the smell of cologne and aftershave and something completely distinct to the man I loved; that good man smell, whatever it was, surrounded my senses and overwhelmed me until my head ached with dizziness.
I climbed under the covers and pulled the comforter over my head, letting the soft fabric slide over my cheek and forehead. I could almost hear Eugene whispering the words he'd said when they'd gone to the Snuggly Duckling. "Take a deep breath through nose…really let that seep in."
I did. My body became all warm and tingly just smelling him all around me; it eased my broken heart just the tiniest bit. Would I really never be able to see Eugene again? It wasn't like he was going to be killed. He was still in the palace – if you counted the prison ward as part of the residential castle. Oh, I didn't want to think anymore! There was too much to worry about…I don't know if I'm being entirely clear with you; my speech professor says that the way I talk can be misleading because I'm so naïve, but I hardly even know my parents at all. Don't get me wrong; I loved them with all my heart, and they mean well…and I'll always have Pascal. But Eugene…he is my everything. He gives my life…meaning. Without Eugene, I'm just another girl – except for the whole heir-to-the-Coronan-throne thing – with nothing special about me. We did everything together, and taking him away from me was like taking away my reason to live.
I slid my eyes shut and let the man smell envelop me, clearing my mind so that I could think straight. Well, at least he wasn't going to be hung. That was reassuring. I'd probably even be able to visit him. It was all gonna be okay.
After a few minutes of breathing Eugene's air, I looked at the ornate clock to my left and crawled out of bed…it was dinnertime, and though my parents probably weren't expecting me, I didn't want to disappoint them in missing supper. They'd promised me hazelnut soup that morning, and I was looking forward to the effort they'd made to cheer me up.
At dinner, the large, quiet Dining Hall seemed to swallow up my family. The two doors leading out of the hall were flanked with stony-looking servants – I figured that they were quite used to a silent dinnertime after nearly 18 years of my parents having little to talk to each other about because they were so sad about my…disappearance. It kind of gave me a guilty pleasure that they had missed me so much, but I felt terrible for causing them so many years of pain and silence, and now it was just back to the nightly grind.
The only thing that could be heard was the sound of soft munching and spoons scraping noisily against china bowls, and the occasional small talk over concerns in my behalf: "Will you be alright, dear?" and the like; nothing about the tiara incident, much to my relief. I don't know what'd come over me; the anger had long passed into depression by now. I'd answered every question with a solemn nod, staring at the brown liquid in my bowl, not wanting to speak.
It was halfway through dessert that I finally mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been burning inside me for hours. I shifted in my seat and tugged stiffly at my short-sheared locks, and suddenly burst, "Do I get to see Eugene again?"
Mama stopped mid-bite of her chocolate mousse, and Papa knocked his bowl over all together. He grumbled an apology to the servant that rushed to clean up his mess as he exchanged a nervous glance with his Mama. Then they looked back at me, their expressions empathetic and sad at the forlorn look in my eyes. Mama set her spoon down in her bowl with a sigh, rising to her feet and taking me by the hand.
"Come with me, Sweetheart."
She led me out of the Dining Hall, and I followed her with a dreary eagerness up and down passageways, some familiar and others unfamiliar. Up stairwells, across a rooftop courtyard, and down a corridor I knew as the Hall of Family Trees – it was lined from floor to ceiling with huge, stuffy-looking portraits of my ancestors, much more realistic renderings than my paintings.
Once we came to a stop at the end of the seemingly-endless hallway, Mama and I stood before a set of thick, wooden, ornately-carved doors that bared a heavily-armored guard at each side. As if on cue, they both bowed and chimed in unison, "Evening, Your Majesties."
I frowned, my distaste in the title apparent. Nicknames were fine with me, but special titles made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn't really special; my parents just happened to be the rulers of Corona. Why did that call for being treated differently than everyone else? Of course, I wanted to be unique, but I also longed to be normal.
"Good evening. We are here to see Flynn Rider," Mama told the guards. "You are to report to the Captain that my daughter is to be allowed to visit him at any time, day or night. Is that clear?"
The instructive edge to Mama's tone made me uneasy. It reminded me of Mother Gothel's harshness…of course, my mama would never speak to me that way; just to give orders. Still, I didn't like it a bit.
The guards nodded eagerly, and while one opened the doors, the other said, "Yes, Your Grace. I'll notify him right away." He left as Mama and I entered. Just as the doors were about to be closed behind us, the guard asked, "Would Your Majesties like an escort?" With a dismissive wave of her hand, Mama said, "No, thank you, that won't be necessary." She then took my hand in hers again and led me down the dimly-lit hall.
Despite the skylights in the low ceilings, the passage was darker and gloomier than the rest of the castle, even though the sun was barely beginning to set outside. Something about this wing of the castle made my skin crawl and stomach churn –it was dank and dreary, and it smelled, as my Eugene would describe it, "like the color brown". I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the stench, my eyes watering, and I was careful to maneuver around puddles that dotted the floor. The mortar of the thick, adobe-brick walls crumbled into fine white dust, making the whole place dirtier and dustier than it needed to be. Looking around and trying to stray my mind of what nightmare Eugene was probably living in, I thought about ways I could improve this place during my future rule.
That is, if I could pass all my lessons. Why did I have so much to worry about? Eugene's wellbeing, a happy future, passing my lessons, ruling a kingdom…and a few weeks ago the only concern I had was to see the lanterns!
This place was so unkempt that it hurt my heart to think that people had to live here. Sure, they must've done bad things in the past to have ended up here, but no one deserved to live in such horrible conditions – and I hadn't seen the worst yet. All I'd seen was the main hall, where no cells were.
Mama seemed to know the way through the dirty labyrinth by heart as she led me to the residential part of the prison, marked by a set of stout oak doors covered in juts and scratch marks, flanked by two guards that opened up automatically for us.
A terrific stink, even worse than before, consumed my senses as Mama let me into the temporary holding area – men howled and screamed terrible, obscene things at mama and I, and the guards in the corridors began to shout back at the inmates who continued to spit and holler at us.
I didn't blame them for being angry – they had to spend the rest of their lives, that is, until they were hung, in a dark, dingy cell. The only light that ever entered this part of the building were through tiny windows – each cell had one square-foot window that filtered the last light of day through iron bars. I tried to appear brave, but I kept hearing Mother Gothel's voice in my head, telling me horror stories about ruffians and thugs.
"I really did try, Rapunzel…I tried to warn you what was out there…"
One of the inmates snapped me out of my mortified trance by snatching at the hem of my pink satin dress. Much to my surprise, Mama kicked the ghostly arm, and it retreated quickly back into the shadows. She tightened her grip on my hand and hastened down the hall, practically dragging me down the noisy corridor as my head spun – this trip was more than perturbing.
My floral-print gown was dirty with grime and every rowdy and rambunctious word hurled through the air was foul-mouthed, but I was determined to see my Eugene, even if it be the last time. The cold of the stone floor bit into the bare soles of my feet and the last lights of day were fading – our path was hardly lit as my mama and I flew through the maze of cells until we came to a halt at yet another closed door. The wooden plaque on the wall next to it read, "Lifetime Inmates". Mama let go of my hand and knocked.
The peephole-window on the door slid open and a set of blue eyes appeared. Upon seeing the knocker, the door immediately swung open, and a guard bowed. "I assume you're here to see Rider, Your Majesty," the guard said. I recognized him as Carver, the guard who'd fetched my parents when I'd first arrived at the palace. "Yes, sir," I answered shyly, and Mama ushered me on into the dark corridor. "I'll wait out here, Sweet Pea," she whispered, taking a step backwards. "That is, if you're alright to continue on alone."
I gave her a confident nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as my stomach churned. "I'll be alright," I croaked, and with that, Carver closed the door, and I was enveloped into darkness interrupted only by two lanterns: he held one, while the other was stationed at the far end of the hall.
"Follow me," he instructed softly.
Unlike the temporary holding area, this section was one straight corridor instead of a confusing labyrinth of passageways. Carver led me to the end and took a key ring off his belt, unlocking a cell door I assumed was Eugene's – the eerie green glow of the lantern didn't reach far. The guard handed me the lantern and took the other off the wall for himself, and headed back down the hall and out the door.
The slam of the door echoed for a few moments, but after that, all I could hear was the muted squeaking of rats and the snores – some louder than others – of the sleeping inmates. Sure, it wasn't even near nine yet, but when you're stuck in an empty holding cell, there's little to do but sleep.
I sighed and inhaled sharply, scared about what I might see when I entered Eugene's cell. Still, I gathered up my courage and hoisted up the lantern to shine it into the cell.
Oh, my poor Eugene!
He was certainly a strong man, I knew, physically and mentally as well as emotionally…but the stench, the grime, the rats, the lack of occupation, and most of all, the chains, made the living conditions unbearable for anyone of sound mind. Anger bubbled up in the pit of my stomach…the Court had betrayed me. Apparently, Eugene and my parents (excluding Pascal and Maximus) were the only ones who cared at all about my happiness.
At first, I didn't see him. Compared to the temporary holding cells, this one was quite spacious, but then I saw him, curled up in fetal position on a messy lump of hay in the right-hand corner by the door.
I immediately set the lantern on the floor next to him, its jade glow illuminating his form which, now that I was close enough for inspection, I saw was covered with bruises, scratches and dried blood. His bare back was turned toward me and his knees were drawn to his chest, so I couldn't see his front side, but from where I sat, my battered beau did not look at all like the man I'd seen leave the courtroom less than eight hours previous.
I wobbily knelt down beside him, feeling that at any moment the world was going to drop out from beneath me. I placed a hand on his shoulder – gosh, he was freezing! Where had his shirt and vest gone? Oh, there was his shirt…wrapped around his leg and drenched in blood. I cringed – he didn't smell at all like Eugene, like cologne and aftershave and man. He smelled like stale bread and blood and jail, which was a combination of the stenches of urine, excrement and bodies that hadn't showered in years. I didn't wince at his rank, though – it was his state of body that I was concerned about. He looked like he'd taken quite a beating, and that made my cheek twitch with rage, a hot, passionate anger boiling inside of me for whoever had done this to him. Eugene did not deserve any of this. He deserved to live happily ever after with me.
The iciness of the floor seeped through my dress and into my legs, coursing through my veins and chilling my heart. I slid my hand from his shoulder cautiously, and down to his chest. I gently eased him onto his back and leaned down to whisper in his ear, my eyes filling up with tears of pain. "Eugene…please wake up, Eugene."
Only the slow rising and falling of his scathed chest indicated that he was alive. I wished he'd open his eyes. I wished I could heal him. I wished I'd never come here – I should never have told Eugene that I was the princess. We should've just gone to live on an island somewhere, far, far away from all of our bad memories.
He must not have been sleeping very deeply, for his shallow snoring ceased and he shifted in the stiff hay. Eugene's amber eyes cracked open and he sorely moaned, "Rapunzel?"
Tears began to slide down my cheeks – dinner had given me an opportunity to rehydrate my body. "Hey, Eugene," I whispered. It couldn't be this way forever…it wasn't fair! It took all of my self-control to hold back from throwing my arms around him – it'd hurt his ailments. He grunted as he propped himself up on one elbow, managing a smile that tore out what was left of my heart, the manacles that kept him chained to the wall clanking loudly.
I stared in revulsion at the cold, metal shackles on his wrists and ankles. "Eugene…I'm so sorry…"
Despite his chains and injuries, Eugene eased himself into a sitting position, cringing in pain, and carefully drew me into him. "It's not your fault, Rapunzel," he croaked. He buried his face in my hair, kissing the top of my head, clearly as glad to see me as I was to see him. "It's great to hear your voice. I thought I'd never see you again."
I pulled out of the embrace, somberly remembering the last time he'd said that. Judging by the look of concern on his face, Eugene had noticed how puffy and bloodshot my cloudy eyes were, and I returned the expression in accordance to his black eye and obviously-broken nose. Though I didn't mention it, I thought he finally looked like one of his "wanted" posters.
I spread my small hands across the expanse of Eugene's bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palms as I studied his bruises and slashes, my eyebrows knitted into an upset line. "Who did this to you?" I demanded, eyeing the purplish-yellowish mutilations on his skin. Eugene simply shook his head and muttered, "Eh, doesn't matter. They can. And it's nothing, really. I'm used to it…"
I shook my head in befuddlement, my matted brown hair bobbing irritatingly. "This isn't right, Eugene," I whispered, more tears flowing. I sniffled, trying to be strong as I looked back up into his eyes. He caressed my cheek gently and muttered, "I love you, you know."
The chunk of ice I had for a heart melted a bit as I smiled. "I love you more." Eugene leaned towards me, and brushed his lips against mine for a long, soft kiss. He murmured against my mouth, "I love you most."
Catching my breath, I choked on my tears…it meant so much more when he said it than any time Mother Gothel ever had, because I knew that Eugene really meant it. I'd never even told him that she used to say that to me – this was out of his own accord. A sudden wave of emotion swept over me, the same epiphany that had hit me back in the tower after Mother Gothel had fallen out the window and Eugene had died: it was the feeling that I was losing everything I had.
Mother Gothel had used me, yes, and Mama was the one who actually loved me, but the absence of the woman who'd raised me still left a blank hole in me heart, and Eugene's sentence had totally ripped the rug right out from under me. Life was just falling apart, and on top of it all, I didn't even know where Pascal was, my one constant through everything.
"That's what Mother Gothel used to say!" I simply sobbed.
I buried my face in my arms, and I felt Eugene draw me close to him. "Rapunzel." His tone was as if I'd just sliced open his heart. I feebly looked up into his eyes, trying to make myself as small as possible. "I am so sorry."
Sighing in anguish, I leaned back against him, sitting in his lap as he paused, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, illuminated by the one pale-green lantern. "For everything," Eugene continued, and I noticed for the first time that his voice raspy, as if someone had done something to his neck. Had someone tried to strangle him? "You shouldn't have to be here. You…you should go."
My face twisted, excruciating heartbreak flowing through every last fiber of my body. "No, Eugene," I managed to choke out, pressing myself against him for warmth and comfort as steamy tears streamed down my face. "I'm sorry. If only I'd let you go and never left that tower –"
Eugene cut me off gently. "Hey, hey, don't talk like that. This is where you belong, Goldie." My chest cavity felt ice-cold, and the organ inside it throbbed so bad that I just wanted to tear it out and smash it under a rock – and it only got worse when he continued.
"Rapunzel, I want you to forget…forget about me. I never deserved you anyways, and you deserve a really great life. I want you to marry a prince and have a bunch of kids and rule Corona as the best damn queen this world has ever seen. You hear me?"
Eugene's voice cracked on the endnote, indicating just how painful it was for him to tell me to let him go. I squeezed my eyes shut, my body aching and shaking with silent tears. I can't begin to explain the world-stopping pain I experienced in that cell with the love of my life telling me to forget.
"Rapunzel, please, he begged, clutching me to him as if it were the last time he'd ever see me – which, if I did as he said, it would be. "Promise that you'll do that, for me."
With a heartwrenching sob, I rubbed my trembling cheek against Eugene's chest, feeling the vibrations of his accelerated pulse. He held me close until I let out a muffled squeak:
"I promise."
From the way his tense muscles loosened, I could tell he felt a bit of relief and closure that I was going to move on with my life. Eugene tenderly stroked what was left of my hair until I pulled back. "I promise," I spluttered, gripping his shoulders, "but I won't forget. I won't stop loving you, Eugene Fitzherbert. I won't stop, for every minute of the rest of my life."
I sniffled, my face probably shining with tears in the dim green light, feeling as if lightning had struck my heart and split it in two.
Eugene let a single tear slide down his cheek. "Me neither."