Tangled Up in You—THE REWRITE!
A/N: Disclaimer still applies.
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Realization (Part One); the final missing piece recognized; soon revealed…
The King, his Royal Highness William, already and clandestinely having made an initial recognition; a recognition primarily made based on a remarkable portrait, an impossibly and dumbfoundingly remarkable portrait; contained in a highly classified file known only to his highness and the commander and deputy commander of the Royal Coronian Special Forces Detachment - Solaris; suddenly and somewhat awkwardly remembered his place and gracefully gestured to his beautiful, yet fearful and reluctant wife. He gently urged her forwards towards the young woman with a long absent gleam in his eyes, an unusual smile gracing his face; a happy smile, Kat belatedly and shockingly realized, not seen for…, how long had it been?
The Queen; her Royal Highness Catherine, affectionately called Kat by Will; who had been standing warily behind him in the shadows watching the young woman as she looked upon the person she knew, all too well, as Flynn Rider, she too unsure of herself. She was very apprehensive, yet very hopeful and she soon found her confidence and poise and gracefully moved into the light of the full moon; asking herself as she did so, "Hmmm. I wonder; I haven't seen a look on his face like that in…; what does William know that I do not? What is the knowledge that is causing that smile, a wonderful smile now gracing his face, one not seen since…, since the birth of…, NO! Can it be? YES, of course! It must be something important enough to give him hope after so many false princesses with their outrageous stories and, sadly their inability to pass the vital test… Is there more here than meets the eye? Does he have information that links with the information I have; the only evidence recovered; the never revealed evidence that only I know of, kept secret except to myself and the Royal Physician, for fear of disclosure? Evidence kept close to me at all times?"
While undergoing a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotion, yet another thought entered her mind as well, or rather another person: Flynn Rider. "How does he play into this? Is this what William was referring to when he stated that we might not know the true self of Flynn Rider? Why would he now call himself Eugene Fitzherbert? Although, I must say, I do like Eugene better than Flynn." She said to herself; both extremely angry with him, yet; hopefully, somehow, knowing that he would not willingly throw himself to the wolves. Thus, he must be absolutely sure of whatever drove him here to the Royal Docks, knowing that he would be instantly captured and possibly immediately hung. Thus, something extraordinary HAD to be occurring. She then asked herself another series of key questions, "What does he know; how does he know it; and, most importantly, why is he here?"
It seemed so inconceivable to her; believable only in the novels she had used to help pass the time, the past eighteen lonely childless years; novels that in no way could even begin to match the reality of the moment at hand; simply inconceivable; her minding drifting back to the events of the past 36 hours. Just the morning before; in a daring robbery, confounding both the Royal Guard and palace staff; he had successfully stolen the tiara of the Lost Princess, their precious lost daughter. An act so outrageous that, had it been fully reported to the citizenry, it would have resulted in chaos, marring the events taking place the next evening. She involuntarily found her mind drifting back to the previous morning;
Early the Previous Morning…
RIDER!
The word echoed throughout the entire palace, bouncing off walls, reverberating throughout all the hallways. The word; the name of man, a man known for his callous disregard for other people's property, to include, now, the property of someone so tragically torn from my family.
I was currently sitting in a small chamber off the main palatial meeting room; just one door down from the shrine erected in honor of our missing daughter, the shrine containing the one precious reminder of her, the tiara she was to be crowned with upon the attainment of her eighteenth year, this very year, to be done tomorrow actually; surprised at the reverberating echo of the name she grew to despise as his exploits gained in daring and notoriety; looking up in shock as the Sergeant Major Samuel of the Royal Guard; reported the theft of the tiara of the Lost Princess.
"No," I exclaimed, leaping to my feet, helplessly looking to Will, "it cannot be! Not now! Not on the eve of the most tortuous day of the year! WHY?"
My internal anguish was interrupted by the angry words of my husband Will, "When you find him, recover the tiara, then kill him with as much prejudice as you can;" my anguish in stark contrast to the anger, an anger to be feared, of my husband, who was normally known as being level headed in all matters regardless of the situation or circumstance, obviously driven to the point of madness by his anger; his enthusiasm to see him die with the most pain imaginable completely terrifying to me.
The Sergeant Major, shocked at the outburst, simply nodded his assent and rapidly left, out to seek the Captain of the Guard, only known as Newman; never letting on what his birth name might be, even to the Royal Couple; but knowing that he would happily carry out the orders, enraged as he was at the constant almost tauntingly easy way that Flynn Rider could thieve, almost at will; confounding all.
I thus was quite surprised, yet did not question his actions, as William almost immediately called in Corporal Matthew Roberts and sent out amended orders to the Royal Guard First Lieutenant to ensure that Rider was captured alive and as uninjured as possible.
In the Present
Yet despite all this knowledge that he must have concerning his fate; knowing that a most grievous death would await his capture, most surprisingly and remarkably; here he stood, an unusual look on his face. His look of complete affection and adoration directed to the young woman, the queen realized with a shock, which appeared to be approximately eighteen years old or so. The very tiara stolen not the day before gracing her head, a perfect fit as if customed made just for her; she too noted with a shock.
Whatever the outcome, she needed to know the answers to innumerable questions; questions she was sure he knew the answers to, thus; she would be sure to keep him around until she could find out the entire story; no matter how incredible it might be. The news of their arrival to be kept most secret until all the details were fleshed out and resolved; another thought abruptly entering her head as well. She would also ensure; in a thought that she had no idea how or why it had abruptly popped into her mind as, in fact, it had also to Will; that when it was proven that this was their daughter that she and Eugene would be allowed to remain together; as she always wanted her daughter to marry out of love, not obligation or treaty. She couldn't remember the last time that she had looked at Will with the same feelings of absolute adoration gracing this woman's face currently; or that Will had looked at her as this young man currently gazed at this young woman; as she nervously looked up at Fly-, no wait; Eugene Fitzherbert; that is right, Eugene, he called himself Eugene Fitzherbert.
"But why the apparent disconnect between the two? And did this disconnect cause William to send out the amended orders? And, is this what William meant when he said we might not know the true self of Flynn Rider?" She asked herself, driven to find the answer to these questions as well.
Thus as she considered all these seemingly unrelated facts, she felt renewed confidence as she continued to emerge from the shadows into the light of the brightly lit full moon, her emerald eyes gleaming in the moonlight; just, she noted, as the eyes of the young woman calling herself Rapunzel did; both sets considerably brightening as they met, knowing; absolutely knowing that they were connected.
Mother and daughter tentatively moved towards each other, one reluctant step at a time; their eyes remaining locked together. The one set of emerald eyes meeting the second set of emerald eyes, not straying from the other. "Could it be true," these two sets of eyes warily asked the other, as if fearful of the answer?
"Are you my wonderful beautiful daughter; missing for so long; location unknown; reason, also as yet unknown? Was my daughter home, after so long?" The elder set of emerald eyes asked.
"Are you my mother; my real mother, the one I was so cruelly stolen from; the one who went through so much to see me born; almost dying, only saved at the last possible moment by some magical flower of the sun? Was this compound my real home; not a cruelly designed seventy foot tall, yet door-less, tower in a hidden valley? The quite beautiful palace of Corona my real home, and was I home; home with my real mother; after so long?" The younger set of emerald eyes asked.
For a moment; a single, brief, and ridiculous moment; these two pairs of emerald green eyes were afraid of each other, yet not willing to break contact. As it turned out, this fear was totally unwarranted as, except for hair color and Rapunzel's cute freckled nose, they both could have been looking at their reflection in a mirror; the identical emerald green eyes; the identical heart shaped faces; identically cute button noses; and, finally, identically cute overbites. Her identity; so obvious as to be blindingly obvious; lacking only one thing, how a missing piece of the puzzle fit into the picture of this young woman standing before her; a confused and hesitant look upon her face.
The queen; knowing, yet lacking the firm knowledge, that this was her daughter; stood there, pondering how to place the final piece of the puzzle of her identity into the picture in her mind. As she thought back, eighteen years; to a dreadful night, the night any parent feared; she remembered the clue, a startling clue; the same clue found in the light of the new dawn; the clue found as she awaited the return from a fruitless search for the kidnapper.
A clue that she had carried close to her heart, known but to her and one other; carried on a special chain, a chain that never left her person; unless conducting risky duties that could result in its loss; the irreplaceable clue; linking her, she was completely convinced of, to her lost daughter; potentially, she was sure; this young woman. The clue remarkably explained in a conversation with the Royal Physician, Doctor Lambert the morning after the kidnapping.
Eighteen Years Earlier…
An empty crib; the criminal, seen escaping the palace grounds, a woman; an older woman with graying, yet coal black hair, last seen fleeing on foot.
A sleepless night spent in an empty Royal Nursery, alternating between running around the room aimlessly, hysterically, and sitting by the empty crib; alternating between crying inconsolably and fervently praying that this was nothing but a bad nightmare; a nightmare that would prove just that when I awoke in the morning with my husband by my side, yet; my husband and the Palace and Royal Guards frantically searching the city, enlisting the aid of any citizens found to be out so late, and surrounding countryside for the kidnapper and our daughter; no signs or any other clues ever found.
The yet publically unnamed Princess Rapunzel, a blond haired girl, gone; yet one, quite unusual, clue left behind; a clue noted in the light of the new dawn, through tear stained and blurred vision as the sun began to illuminate the now sadly empty Royal Nursery. The light providing the contrast to see this clue highlighted against the light colored sheets of her crib. The clue left behind, a lock of hair; a very small, yet seemingly insignificant and almost overlooked lock of hair; yet ultimately material.
The first series of questions to be answered, "What is the color of this lock of hair? This simply the most interesting facet of its discovery, for the hair is brown; hmm, why would it be brown? Shouldn't it be blond? It couldn't have come from the kidnapper; her hair was coal black with massive graying streaks. Yet, it also seems that it could not have come from our daughter Rapunzel; thus, the quandary."
Yet; there it was, almost inconspicuously sitting in the crib; the lock of hair; the small lock of brown hair; maybe fifty, seventy-five strands in all; looking as if had been cleanly cut, with a very sharp cutting implement or scissors. Had the lighting angle been different, it might have been completely overlooked and irretrievably lost.
"Thank you for small favors," I whispered, when I first noticed its presence.
The questions; so many questions created; questions requiring answers; yet, answers indiscernible. Or, were they?
First, and most importantly, how did it get there? Second, and of almost equal importance to the first, why is it there? Finally, and probably the question that will be unanswerable by her; "Whose could it be," the queen asked, an idea coming to her mind as she continued, "Maybe the Royal Physician will know the answer; I will find him to ask later this morning."
Late in the morning after the kidnapping; after the sleepless night spent wailing and inconsolably sobbing at the crib her precious daughter had been taken from, pacing furtively as I awaited some sort of news of the search efforts; my husband Will; returning exhausted and frantic, charging that the Royal Guard create a team to spearhead the search efforts; he himself inconsolable with grief and incredibly angry with himself for not being able to prevent her loss; I found myself nervously standing outside the office door of the Royal Physician.
As I stood there, before the office door of Doctor Lambert, the remarkably wise and skilled physician to the royals for over thirty years; I played over and over in my mind how to ask this trusted aide to the Royal Family a question that might prove that I had been so quickly driven completely mad by the grief of the event of the past evening that my fitness to rule would be called into question; yet knowing that this was MY palace, and MY Royal Physician who I could visit at anytime with no prior warning or appointment; who I could ask anything and everything of; who I also and most importantly knew, and knew most assuredly would never lie or intentionally mislead.
Thus, I found myself; after standing before the door for possibly 20 minutes internally seeking and finally gaining not only the courage, but also the direction I wished, and needed, to go in my discussion. I also quite nervously smiled at the many palace attendants scurrying about in completion of their tasks, they noticeably avoiding eye contact for fear of having me speak to them, a totally baseless fear, as distracted as I currently was. I finally made myself known; knocking twice, softly, yet, with purpose.
"Yes," I heard the occupant of the office politely call through the closed door, "Please, come in."
I nervously turned the door knob, slowly opening the door. The Doctor; well aware of the events of the night before and, in trying to remain distracted, totally lost in his work; belatedly looked up from his paperwork. He quickly leapt to his feet, immediately and rapidly came from around his desk, bowing and bending down on one knee as he did so; respectfully exclaiming and asking, "Your highness! How may I help you?"
"I have a serious matter to discuss with you," I stated; gently placing a reassuring hand on the doctor's shoulder; fully cognizant of, yet unable to do anything to curtail the rumor mill of the palace; followed by, "but, not here Doctor. Please, come with me."
Doctor Lambert; shocked at the serious look upon my face quickly nodded his assent; secured his office and quickly followed me out the door of the palace and into my favorite place within the royal compound; the Royal Garden.
"Why the Royal Gardens for this discussion?" I am sure he asked himself internally as he followed me into a secluded area of the garden; free of potential eavesdroppers, waiting patiently for me to speak, fully understanding the gravity of the matter at hand; wordlessly sworn to absolute secrecy.
"Doctor Lambert," I began; quite stiffly and hesitantly, the internal battle to retain emotional control unmistakable; "I am sure you have heard of the events of last evening and are aware of the tragedy that befell us?"
The doctor, tears quickly staining his cheeks at the thought, sadly nodded in confirmation, waiting patiently for me to continue.
"You see, Doctor Lambert, a clue was left behind," I continued, pausing at the look of shock on the doctor's face; "a clue I found this morning in the dawn's light, a clue that I am sure will identify for sure our lost daughter, the princess. Yet, a clue that I do not fully understand or wish revealed. Will you help me understand and maintain its confidentiality?"
The doctor nodded his assent; gently encouraging me, a woman he had known since I too was but a young girl injured while riding a palace horse during one of many visits to Corona, to continue. He watched; mouth open almost to the ground, as I nervously and shyly looked around, as if I was ensuring that they were completely alone; which, in actuality, I was; as in grave times baseless talk caused additional pain and suffering. Satisfied; I opened a fine linen wrapped lock of brown hair; slowly explaining to the physician how I came about it.
The doctor; his eyes darting from the lock of brown hair to first to me and then back, noting the crucial similarity; made the connection, almost immediately. He surely knew instinctively the significance of this clue, a clue that would prove ultimately material in the confirmation of the baby princess; he himself not even aware of the birth name.
He began to tell me of his theory; my already massive emerald green eyes growing as large as saucers, my mouth opening ever wider in absolute and complete shock. His amazing theory, his so unbelievable, yet true, theory; one so amazing that I was 100 percent sure that I had been wise to limit its knowledge to just two people; for I did not even share its detail with Will, my husband. But, most importantly, a theory not to be proven correct for almost eighteen years; yet, most incredibly AND remarkably, a theory proven absolutely correct by an absolutely and completely amazing event; an event not even to ever be imagined…
Present day…