So, exam period is approaching and killing me already, so it's possible for this story to go on a month-long hiatus. So, just in case, I'm posting a longer chapter to compensate for the probable wait. :)
Hopefully, it won't bore you. Enjoy!

„Okay, before I go talk to anyone about the reliability of this detail," the Captain spoke harshly. „What exactly happened there?"

A few lit lanterns gently illuminated the heavy stone baldachin of the armory's rib vault, threateningly hanging over their heads. Various weaponry laid stacked, or hung from the walls between the strong pillars, some halberds barely put away after they had come back to the castle.

The small crowd of guards he had asked to stay in the room seemed to take up a lot of space. Even the Captain himself felt bigger somehow, staring them down with his arms akimbo, listening to all the details he had missed.

Maybe it was because they towered so much over Varian of Old Corona, so thin and puny, biting his lip, his eyes straying whenever they even got close to settling on the Captain. The only creature smaller than him was a raccoon circling his legs—and even that little animal somehow seemed less fragile.

Cap knew the young man had something to do with all that had happened on the mainland. He had opposed the King's idea of letting Varian near the deadly machine at all and, as it turned out, he should've trusted his guts. Now, he had a whole mess to handle and a guard injured—all because they had made a risky decision when he hadn't even been able to do much, besides watching the fight from a distance.

Damn him, he thought, reminded of his recent injury. The Captain had insisted that he was ready to get back into action, it was nothing, but His Majesty remained unpersuaded, never willing to go against the medics' advice. Damn them, too.

He didn't have to look far for proof that Varian had been involved in the incident. If the sorry state of his clothes or the unwashed dirt on his hands didn't reveal so much, Varian's nervousness, steadily increasing while Frank told the story, sure did.

As soon as he got to the part where the prisoner had turned on the machine, Varian cut in. „It wasn't me! I mean—it was, but," he hurried to explain. „I didn't mean it! I was trying to remove the cylinder and… it just sorta happened." His pale cheeks turned red as soon as he finished that sentence, probably realizing that „sorta happened" wasn't a plausible excuse.

The Captain felt his brows furrow. So, this was the young culprit who had gotten him into such a mess before—and now he stood in front of him wide-eyed, like a schoolboy about to be reprimanded.

It was common knowledge that Varian was impudent and straight-up hateful even toward His Majesty, but in the Captain's presence, he behaved nothing alike. He still wouldn't dare to look him in the eyes, now exchanging glances with the racoon, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. He was lucky—because Cap hated crybabies and drama queens.

„Mhm," Cap nodded before asking sternly, „And why on earth did you even let him touch the machine?"

„I couldn't do it."

They all turned to see Xavier, the blacksmith, at the door. The Captain was convinced that this man was simply unable to ever fully lose his kindly demeanour, and so, he smiled upon seeing their surprised faces like he'd been invited for tea.

„Good morning, Captain. Aldred asked me to let you know everyone is fine. Just a couple of bruises, that' s all."

Stressed, Cap didn't bother with niceties. „What do you mean you „couldn't do it"?"

The blacksmith leaned on the doorframe. „I couldn't properly remove that part we had problems with. It was too risky," he explained calmly. „If I further attempted it myself, the same would've happened."

„We don't know that," one of the guards opposed.

„I assure you, it would. I do know a thing or two about machinery, though Varian definitely beat me to it." Xavier smiled at the teenager as if he was oblivious to who he was exactly speaking about. Varian didn't even raise his gaze, seemingly determined to inspect every scratch on the tiled floor.

Another guard spoke up. „To be fair, we can't be sure that this whole thing wasn't planned, no?"

„It's not his fault," Stan's voice sounded tired.

They all looked back to the doorway—well, besides the kid. The Captain grunted. Had he missed the memo or was everyone just in the mood for dramatic entrances?

„Stan. Were you watching?"

„Yes, sir. It was an accident," the other man answered. „And Varian was hit first."

The attention returned to the prisoner, still refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Varian seemed okay—only embarrassed and disheveled. Nothing in him matched the vile voice the Captain had heard in the fog.

The memory of the alchemist collapsing almost at his feet flashed through Cap's mind. And then another thought followed—unlike the guards, Varian wasn't wearing any armor. Not surprising. But why the hell didn't he get at least some protective gear?

Because the Captain didn't order so, that was why. He completely forgot about that.

He grunted. „You okay?"

Varian answered quietly, „Yeah."

„Yes, sir," the Captain corrected him.

„Yes, sir."

He pondered the situation they found themselves in. He could go to Nigel, or straight to the King, and plainly tell him the truth—Varian had turned that automaton on. The kid would probably be done for, no questions asked, as soon as His Majesty heard anything about him being a threat.

Perhaps it would be an understandable decision—the King put the safety of his family above all else, and Cap got to experience that very well when he'd hunted for that scroll. Protecting the Queen and the Princess was His Majesty's highest priority, just above protecting Corona, and the Captain respected it.

But he wasn't a cruel person. He wouldn't sleep well at night if he knew that he sent someone to the dungeon for a crime they hadn't committed—not again. Even though, in his opinion, Varian should've received a much harsher punishment, he wasn't going to bring him to his own idea of justice.

Even when Xavier looked at him seriously, urging Cap to do what he was about to do anyway, the warm-hearted manner was still very much there.

Admittedly, Xavier had a way of directing one's thoughts toward warmness—because the Captain immediately thought back to his daughter, and to the example he had always strived to set for her. Cassandra never stood by to watch unnecessary suffering—he had made sure of that. And he was so proud of her.

If he were to be honest, Cassandra was on his mind ever since Varian had stood up from the ground in that village. Cap wasn't sure if it was a good sign that he'd reminded him of his daughter so instantly—Varian, the criminal, the only person, besides Cap himself, who hadn't cheered.

He sighed deeply. „Alright then. You're dismissed," he waved a hand on the guards. „Stan, Pete, stay please."

Xavier stretched with a grunt, and casually followed the men out of the armory. Really, awkwardness was a myth to this man.

After the door closed, leaving the four of them alone—well, five, if the raccoon counted—Cap spoke again.

„No need to bother the King with details about how exactly the machine was triggered on, " he said in a low voice. „What matters is that the threat is no more. Good work, Stan." He patted the guard's shoulder. „I'll personally see to a proper reward for you. You're off duty for today, of course. Pete, get the prisoner where he's supposed to be."

And then, he saw a pair of round eyes finally searching for his. If there ever was any loathing in them before, it had given place to fearful surprise, and maybe even some shy gratefulness. Varian's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't believe his own ears, didn't even dare to hope or—no, certainly not—to trust him.

The Captain knew that, he knew that look, because Cassandra had taught him.

„You're welcome," he told Varian as harshly as he could, and turned on his heel.

Leaving the armory, he felt an uncomfortable knot of anxiety already settling in his stomach. He fruitlessly tried to shake the feeling off, but he knew that his conscience wouldn't stop bugging him for quite some time. But it was better than eternity. He almost didn't have a doubt that he was right to have spared Varian. He was innocent—this time.

That was why the Captain decided to withhold this information after making sure that nobody besides himself could be held responsible or tell anyone. Hopefully, Stan and Pete were worthy of his trust.

Well, that was unexpected. He really had gotten softer after Eugene, hadn't he? A teenager cracked his ribs and messed up his back, and then, he had helped him avoid second arrest.

He had protected him.

And possibly committed treason.

Wherever Cassandra was, he hoped she was proud of him, too.

-x-

If you do anything to threaten the faith I just put in you, I will not hesitate.

And that was truly what Varian had expected to happen next, after they would lead him out of the armory. The dungeon—or worse.

But a weird thing happened when he had finally torn his gaze from Ruddiger and looked at the Captain of the Guard, bracing himself for a surge of unexplained shame. It hadn't come.

And there had been an awkward sadness, wrinkling the corners of the man's eyes, a firm „You're welcome" and that was it. No disgust, no mockery, or reproach, or even indifference—not quite.

After Varian left the room with Ruddiger in his arms, the raccoon started licking his hands.

„Hey hey, stop, they're dirty," he told him.

Suddenly, a hand appeared on his shoulder and the guards stopped, letting Xavier and Aldred talk to them. The latter watched the sling on Stan's arm like a hawk, clearly in his element, but when he spoke up, he addressed Varian.

„Everything alright? Sleeping well?" the medic asked. „Want me to take a look at this?" He pointed to the alchemist's hands.

Varian straightened up. „No, it's really nothing. I'm not being brave."

Because he wasn't brave, or strong, and it was time to stop deceiving himself.

He remembered the family doctor from Old Corona. He was much older than Aldred, very kind and slowly going blind. He had always laughed at Varian's strange endeavors and the constant stream of questions; not in a mocking way, but whole-heartedly. It even used to make his dad laugh a little too. The man could always manage to make Dad way less angry.

Varian wondered what the doctor thought of him now.

He should be nicer to Aldred.

„Thank you," he added. Those words felt odd on his tongue, especially because he said them in the walls of the Corona Castle.

Ruddiger chittered, visibly pleased with their friendliness.

„Okay," said Pete. „Let's go then. Xavier, do you need anything?"

The blacksmith smiled warmly. „No, no, thank you. There are very few things more delightful than a discussion with Aldred," he answered. „See you around, Varian."

On stiff legs, the boy moved Ruddiger onto his shoulder and followed the guards.

-x-

Arianna wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself against the afternoon chill, careful not to crumple the piece of paper in her hand. The wind, gently ruffling her hair, felt almost affectionate. It would be dark in an hour or two.

The kingdom was already quiet under the balcony of the royal bedroom. No matter how many hours she had spent there when she needed to calm her mind, Arianna was always left in awe. The city bristled with soaring spires and spiraling towers, never in conflict with arching gates and swooping roofs. Some smoke lazily rose from the chimneys straight into the graying sky over the calm, glistening sea. Even its clouds seemed to only crown the city, never spoiling the sight. Arianna could see their people in minuscule; delivery men in a hurry, business owners encouraging passersby to drop by, lovers striding the streets and—maybe—whispering passionate declarations.

Corona was the place, that place she had been looking for so long before she'd met Frederic. It was her home and her pride. And this sight—it was music.

There had been a time when Corona was lacking, though. Void of Rapunzel, it hadn't felt like home anymore, no matter how long Arianna had stared at the land beneath her feet or how much she'd loved the folk that lived on it.

Words could not describe the feeling of the return of their long-lost daughter, pouring the amazement back into Arianna's heart, proving that it had never truly left, that it had been only grief taking too much space.

The Queen was grateful to discover that, despite Rapunzel's recent departure, she treasured her home all the same. This time, nothing had died down in her, and knowing that her baby wasn't gone—just discovering Corona to be the place, too—she continued to thrive along with the kingdom.

Besides the nights.

Arianna was still afraid to fall asleep, afraid she would wake up in an unfamiliar place, to an unfamiliar voice. She'd learned not to feel stupid about it, but sometimes she couldn't help but be upset at her imagination, selectively replaying the memories of her kidnapping, hiding all of her courage and compassion, and relief—and leaving her with only fear.

Sometimes, all that was left of her capturer was the anger in his voice when he had silenced her, his harsh grip on her shoulder and the threat, „Corona will pay for turning their backs on me, and that's when you should start worrying, Your Majesty".

She looked down on the picture in her hands, resting on the balustrade.

It was a fine copy of an even finer portrait. Quirin and his wife looked just as Arianna remembered them—only younger. After some time of making decisions for Old Corona, Quirin had just been officially appointed as its leader. He hadn't known it yet, but in a couple of years, he would have an even more important role to play—a parent.

Arianna felt a corner of her lips raise at that thought. She regretted that Frederic had been unable to properly express how happy he had been for his friend when Quirin had come to announce the birth of his son. The grief over their own child had weighted too much on their shoulders, sharp and fresh, only four years old.

And to think that now, she could reminisce about that day and… smile.

-x-

„Oh, and here," said Pete, handing Varian a change of clean clothes. „Lady Crowley also says that they're changing sheets tomorrow, so have them ready by sunrise or you know what'll happen."

Varian nodded, standing on the threshold of the room. „Alright, thanks."

They were getting too casual, and definitely too friendly, but for some reason, Varian didn't feel obligated to be disliked after what had happened in the mainland earlier that day—and in the armory.

He almost failed to notice the awful sound of the lock turning after Pete closed the door behind him. Good, maybe he was finally starting to get used to it enough for his brain to ignore it.

Used to the routine of being a convict.

„Goodness, Ruddiger, what are we doing in prison?" he mumbled.

The raccoon jumped off his shoulders, seemingly feeling quite at home after all the time they'd spent there. He got onto the bed and bounced a bit, looking at Varian playfully.

„I know, I know," he said. „I am glad it's not a dungeon cell. Happy now?"

.

Ruddiger felt, admittedly, quite happy. Or rather, as happy as he could be in those circumstances. He couldn't shake off the memory of the morning, when he woke up to his best friend crying so hard, curling into a ball, not hugging Ruddiger back.

Looking at him now, Ruddiger couldn't believe their luck. After the horrible day they had, Varian was unscathed, and still in the castle, and… better, actually, way better.

He heard a sigh. „Well..."

Ruddiger jumped back a little, startled, when Varian suddenly pushed the table with unexpected force and confidence. The scraping of its legs didn't cease until it collided with the wall, directly under the window.

„Oh! Sorry, I scared you!"

The raccoon gladly walked into Varian's outstretched arms.

There was something so blissfully casual about Varian at that moment, his voice and movements, so relaxed and familiar. He picked him up. Ruddiger found great comfort in the motion he knew so well. It was like nothing bad had ever happened.

Varian didn't smile, not really, and he didn't say anything further, but he seemed just okay for the moment, and it was more than Ruddiger had wished for after the events of the day. He wondered if the Captain and that big nice man, Xavier, knew how much good they had done for them.

Varian set Ruddiger down on the table, next to „The Tales of Flynnigan Rider" and went to move the chair closer.

It was delightful to see him sit down and take the book into his hands.

-x-

When another gust of wind sent the old piece of paper waving and Arianna shivering, she reluctantly turned away from the city and stepped into the bedroom. The air whistled a bit as she closed the balcony door.

Frederic was sitting to her left, on a red sofa under their own portrait. He seemed to have finished working, judging by the parchment neatly stacked on the bedside table, his quill put back into the ink bottle and his favorite book resting in his hands.

After putting Quirin's portrait next to the Captain of the Royal Guard's report and a letter from the Kingdom of Westergaard, Arianna sat down next to her husband and unceremoniously hugged his arm. He smiled gently and adjusted her blanket a bit before returning to his reading.

„So, Westergaard?" she asked dreamily.

„We have a deal." Frederic licked his finger before turning the page, an annoying little habit Arianna also loved. „They'll send a ship, so all we have to do is prepare the bigger parts. That is, find a metalworker willing to mutilate the machines."

The Queen laughed through her nose. „Mmm, goodbye, automatons."

„I can't say I'll miss them either."

There he was, Varian, on her mind again. She thought about him often, usually wondering how he was doing and thinking about what she could say to him if Frederic let her visit him already. He had promised he would stop protesting the idea—but not yet. Arianna wasn't sure who exactly her husband deemed not ready—her, the boy, or himself.

But she would talk to Varian again, sooner or later.

Because the nights? They lied to her. Her dreams were full of clouds of smoke, chains, and amber so dangerously close to her, and Rapunzel so dangerously far away from her. But those dreams were all wrong—that was not all she had seen in Varian's lab.

However scary that day had been, Arianna would not be blinded by fear. Just like the kingdom of Westergaard would use the automatons' remains to create something new, she would take the experience of her kidnapping and turn it around, shedding herself of dread and letting her care and compassion flourish.

Because that time she had spent as his prisoner, didn't only make Arianna scared of Varian. It also made her decide that she would never, never, leave him behind like they'd done before.

She closed her eyes, her head sinking into the safety of Frederic's presence.

It would be another hour before the night came.

-x-

The table was a bit uncomfortable for Ruddiger's liking, so when Varian left the table after a few minutes, he jumped off to retrieve his pillow. It still lay on the floor, almost in the exact spot where his friend had thrown it.

Varian softly cleared his throat before knocking on the door for the first time ever. He seemed to feel awkward about it, but so was every other conversation he had with Pete so far.

The door opened slightly, and the guard's face appeared in the gap. „Yeah?"

Curious, Ruddiger sat down next to the pillow, eavesdropping without embarrassment.

„Can—can I, uh..." Varian rubbed the back of his neck. „Can I trouble you for a pen? Maybe?"

When Pete opened the door fully, it revealed that the other guard—Stan—was there too, even though Ruddiger was pretty sure he was supposed to rest.

„Sorry, I don't think we can," the man said. „You know, nibs."

„Oh. Okay." Varian didn't sound surprised.

Pete glanced around the room, an eyebrow raising at the open book and rearranged furniture. When he looked at Ruddiger, their eyes met, so the racoon went back to the table, grabbing the pillow with his teeth to drag it along.

He set it on the windowsill, which almost served as an extension of the table top now. It became a great place to lie down, and Ruddiger wanted to take part in the redecorating—which he decided it was.

„We'll see if we can figure something out," said Pete. „No promises, though, alright?"

After the door closed, Varian turned back and immediately spotted the pillow under Ruddiger's paws. For a second, the raccoon was scared that he would get mad about it—but all he did was say in a deadpan voice, „You're way too cute."

Ruddiger chittered in a raccoon equivalent of a laugh, causing a faint smile to appear on Varian's face.

The guards returned quickly. When Pete gave Varian a small wooden box, its contents rattled softly. „Charcoal sticks," he explained. „Can't be dangerous, am I right?"

While Ruddiger was sure that Varian—crafty as he was—would beg to differ, the boy only awkwardly thanked them.

„Hey, um," he added before the men left. „Stan, right? How—how's your arm?"

The guard smiled proudly, clearly flattered by the question. „Aw, it's nothing."

„No, it's not, tough guy!" teased Pete. „You're wrist got squished in that thing, you're like a proper hero now!"

Stan grinned. „True, that. How does it feel to live in my shadow?"

„I don't know, ask someone shorter than me."

„What! I'm taller!"

„Maybe in breadth." Pete turned to leave with a short laugh.

Their banter was still audible after Stan closed the door behind him, mumbling something about muscles and jealousy. Varian looked like he wanted to say something else to him—maybe apologise?—but then, apparently decided not to.

He approached the table and took one of his charcoal sticks out of the box before ripping several blank pages of the book. Then, he put it away and started writing something down.

Ruddiger craned his neck to see. He rarely understood Varian's notes, but would always take a look nevertheless—because sometimes, there were nice drawings. And because he loved his friend very much.

Varian must've noticed his interested gaze. „I wanna double-check my calculations from before." Ruddiger had no idea what it meant before he added, „Maybe I just made a mistake and that's why it didn't work."

The raccoon's heart sank a bit when he realized what Varian was talking about. He wanted to look for a mechanical fault in the drill, or an error in one of the numerous alchemical formulas he had come up with, trying to free Quirin.

Ruddiger sighed deeply. On one hand, he was sad to find out that it was still on Varian's mind. But he also thought it was a good sign that the boy at least did something he enjoyed. Work seemed to have become Varian's refuge and Ruddiger was glad to see his joy for science return.

For the next hour, Ruddiger would drift in and out of sleep, occasionally watching his friend hunched over the multiplying pages of „Flynnigan Rider" scattered over the table.

It made him dream of home.

-x-

It had gotten dark before Varian finally stopped scribbling. Elbows resting on the table, he pressed his charcoal-stained hands to his face, tired.

Ruddiger didn't think much of it until he saw something fall onto one of the notes, blurring the neatly written lines. He immediately left the warm comfort of his pillow when he saw another tear follow, dripping off Varian's chin.

What happened?

Before Ruddiger got to him, the alchemist pushed the papers away and rested his forehead on folded arms. His breath shook in an unmistakable way.

He didn't react to Ruddiger stepping over the notes, probably ruining them further, nor to his paw gently nudging his shoulder. The raccoon helplessly laid down next to his friend, trying to be as close to him as possible.

Seeing Varian cry hurt even more than before—because it wasn't fair. He felt so much better just an hour ago, Ruddiger saw that!

Why hadn't he stopped Varian from redoing the calculations?

No, it wouldn't be good either. He couldn't deter his friend from finally doing something he had a genuine passion for, doing something—something other than the service he'd been assigned to do as punishment.

Perhaps he had to accept that no matter what would happen, how many friends Varian would make or how well things would turn out, Quirin would always be gone at the end of the day. And it would hurt.

Ruddiger bumped Varian's head, subtlety be damned.

Come on, he wanted to say. Let's just go to sleep and maybe tomorrow will be better. Come on.

Understanding the message, the alchemist let Ruddiger wipe his face and stood up. Sluggishly, he took off his shoes and laid on the bed, not bothering with pyjamas, or duvets and blankets.

He closed his eyes only to open them again after a moment.

„Wanna sleep with me?" he whispered.

After this cue, Ruddiger was at his side in an instant. He quickly gave up lifting the blanket in a request for Varian to get under it, and joined him, closing his eyes.

For a few minutes, Ruddiger let himself sink into the sheets and listened to the sound of their breaths, sporadically varied with low muffled voices from behind the door.

„The calculations, at least, were perfect."

-x-

Just as a single tear escaped Ruddiger's eye and disappeared in his fur, Rapunzel and her friends, many miles away, laid their eyes on a crooked, rotten tree. Its outspread branches, along with the gaping hollow in the middle, resembled a roaring monster.

And on its bark, a carving had been made in a hurry—„The Forest of No Return".

My fingers are crossed for your reviews.

Thank you for reading and Happy New Year! ❤️