I'm officially alive! And 22, since yesterday! 😂
Hopefully, I'll go back to posting every few days now.


If Ruddiger had a favorite place in the castle, Varian would bet on the kitchens. They weren't there often—trust you to bake truth serum spiked cookies—but when they were, Ruddiger always got treats and pats on the head from the staff, as long as he didn't interfere.

It was also a good reason for Scowley Crowley to command Varian to give his furry friend a thorough bath, and Ruddiger seemed to love those.

But, this time he had sacrificed his reputation as a well-behaved raccoon in favor of puttering about. He kept very close to Varian, disrespecting all the unwritten rules of the kitchens when it came to domesticated woodland creatures.

The servants gave up on shooing him away after a few futile tries. Ruddiger, for sure, wasn't happy to trade his treats and smiles for the heavy sighs and reprimands, but he persisted.

Varian didn't get it. He was fine, he really was.

In all honesty, sometimes Varian didn't understand why Ruddiger stuck around at all.

Feeling a rush of gratitude, he gently bopped the critter on the nose with his finger. Thankfully, he found it quite easy to ignore the kitchen staff's surprised looks. Some even smiled, but for some reason, it came off as mocking.

At all times, Varian felt surrounded by some sense of shame that felt forced upon him. It lingered in the servants' whispers, carried with the smell of their cleaning agents, permeating every hole in the wall to be fixed and every furnace to be cleaned.

It was unusually quiet. Every time they'd been in a kitchen, it had been filled to the brink with hustle and bustle—the dishes clattering, scullery maids hurrying each other and delivery men barging in, messing up the freshly swept floors.

Varian didn't want to imagine how this wing of the castle operated with actual cooks and kitchen girls at work. It must've been ten times more horrendous than cleaning hours.

Not that day, though. All Varian could hear was soft chitter-chatter and the noise he made as he scraped the oven's walls.

He looked over his shoulder, to the guards watching him closely.

Was this intentional? Was cleaning the peaceful kitchen meant to be a break after the whole automaton mess he'd caused the day before?

As much as he'd hate to admit it, Varian was glad. He felt a bit tired. He had lost track of time over his calculations—he was going to blame that on the lack of any kind of clock in that room—and then the night…

Perhaps that was why Ruddiger babied him the whole day. Varian remembered sitting up on the bed, heart pounding, once his ears picked up on a screeching sound urging him to wake up.

He didn't even remember what he'd dreamt about, and he'd fallen back asleep in a minute, so it had been nothing. But maybe Ruddiger hadn't gotten any more sleep after that?

Varian backed out of the oven and set the bucket of filthy water on the floor. He squeezed the sponge before shrugging and dropping it into the bucket anyway.

He still had a moment before anyone would notice that he was done.

He approached Ruddiger, who was already getting ready to hop off the counter. Varian stroked his fur.

„Stop worrying so much," he muttered. „Did you sleep at all?"

Ruddiger nodded. Hopefully, he wasn't lying.

„Okay." Varian brushed a hand against the raccoon's cheek.

Without turning, he looked sideways at the guards. They were murmuring to each other, Pete standing with his back to them, blocking the view of the other man's head.

Varian decided to seize the chance—he quickly turned around and walked a few steps to the wooden boxes left by someone. He snatched an apple, careful to keep his arms close to his body, and threw it at Ruddiger with one swift motion.

By the time Pete moved, the raccoon had already caught the apple in his mouth, happily biting down on it, and Varian innocently leaned on the counter.

He winked at his friend, trying his best to look fun and mischievous, before announcing loudly, „Last oven done."

One of the servants, a chubby young woman who'd never bothered to introduce herself to him—or acknowledge his presence any more than she acknowledged Ruddiger's—came over to him.

She inspected the ovens with an expert expression. „Alright," she said. „Should be all for today."

„Really?"

The three of them looked to the guards for confirmation.

The one Varian didn't know spoke up. „Don't celebrate, you'll have somewhere to be in no time," he said indifferently. „For now, we stay here."

-x-

„The last goods have been sent to Neserdnia this morning," Nigel squinted at the documents he was holding. „And about the Southern Isles… Xavier has requested help from a few mechanical engineers, as he feels too inexperienced to properly prepare the automaton parts for trading."

Frederic torn his gaze away from the feather of his quill pen. „How much time do we have?"

„It is a three weeks' travel, Your Majesty, so the ship from Westergaard should arrive in nothing short of a week."

Neither or them had any idea if it meant there was enough time, or if they had to hurry with picking out the undamaged parts fit for reassembling or reprocessing—let alone safely preparing them for a long voyage.

„Very well, then," said the King. „Send for three of the best mechanics in Corona, whether in business or still studying. Asking Koto would be ideal, but I doubt we have the time," he thought aloud.

Frederic's mind was already with Arianna before Nigel even started to write his wishes down.

He looked at the large clock standing by the wall. His wife was going to have a rather difficult meeting in just half an hour.

-x-

Pete was bored. So bored.

He'd never suspected to miss Stan so greatly after just one shift of absence, but he thought it was safe to say that he was close to actually going mad from the awkward silence forever hanging between him and Stan's substitute. The man, Bern, had to be the dullest person to have ever walked on earth. No matter how many times Pete tried to make their duty at least a little bit fun, Bern would always just nod with a faint, polite smile and return to work. His stoicism knew no bounds.

Making small talk with Varian was apparently out of the question, too. Pity, really, because he could make a pretty interesting colloquist when he wasn't sulking.

The sheer bad luck, man. Varian was always pulling faces, making snarky remarks and overall trying to make them all as miserable as he seemed to feel about community service—and he also had better moments, as they'd come to find the day before. But, of course, when Stan wasn't there and Pete was dying of boredom, Varian had to turn into a meek rock.

It felt a little weird, the silence that filled the hall as they walked to their destination, even their footsteps—and the raccoon's claws—muffled by the thick red carpet. The little animal, usually scuttling around at a comfortable distance, was almost glued to Varian's right leg.

Truth be told, he did look different, his scruffy demeanor contrasting with the focused calmness. Never had Pete expected to be annoyed at this boy being cooperative.

„Here we are," Bern said out loud by some miracle.

And there they certainly were, the royal parlor waiting just behind the heavy door they approached.

Pete grunted. „Yeah. Maybe you stay here and watch the door and I'll go in?" he suggested. „Nigel said not to crowd them."

Varian looked at him with utter confusion on his face, but he didn't speak. Oh well, it was always something. Up until then, the only creature he'd graced with his full attention was the raccoon.

„Yes," Bern agreed and took position, immediately standing straight, with his back arched unnaturally.

Sighing, Pete pushed the heavy door open. „After you," he told Varian and they entered the room.

He watched some of the color drain from the boy's face before he closed the door.

-x-

Arianna's heart sped up even before she looked up from her book.

There he was—rooted to the spot by the door, eyes locked on her, and she couldn't help but be wary of this gaze.

Hello, Varian, she had planned to say. But, all of a sudden, it seemed like a silly thing to say to her kidnapper's face. That same face that had scowled at her, skin bunching around the eyes in rage when she'd tried to reach out to him despite everything. That same face that had smirked so coldly, promising vengeance and laughing at her fear.

She shifted on the sofa, surprised by the uneasiness she momentarily felt at his sight.

No, that was not all. Remember.

Arianna, look at him.

Grunting, she straightened up and dared to look him in the eye, facing off with the monster that had been hiding under her bed ever since Frederic and Rapunzel had brought her back home—the one she had almost buried inside her.

...He was shaking.

Weirdly, that was the first thing Arianna noticed—the little tremors of his chest as he drew unsure breaths. He'd been shaking during the sentencing too, and his hands had shaken when he'd tightened the harsh rope around her wrists, and when he'd slept.

It seemed like he was shaking every time she laid her eyes on him.

The monster shrunk.

Varian's features slowly relaxed, surprise replaced by odd cautiousness. Why was he cautious of her? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Most importantly, he was small.

He was so much smaller than he'd seemed in Old Corona. She almost wanted to tell him that—how much smaller he was, or how much bigger she was than what he'd done to her.

He budged when Pete touched his shoulder, subtly hinting for him to step further into the room. An unexplained smile tugged at the corner of Arianna's lips.

When Varian had been executing his plan to free Quirin, terribly detailed and thought out, he'd been confident and snarky as can be. Now, he wasn't wearing that ruthless mask. And he was someone entirely different from the monster haunting her dreams.

But he also wasn't a stranger. She'd caught many glimpses of this—more genuine, she supposed—Varian, this scared and confused kid with an obvious gulf between himself and the rest of the world. She'd seen it deepen with every minute that had passed, taking away all his hesitation, all reason, as he tunnel-visionned his one goal.

Varian sighed, so serious and determined now. Somehow, the more he braced himself to speak, the calmer Arianna felt.

What was he going to say? She wondered if he knew how significant his words would be.

„What are you doing here?" he asked, dumbly.

And the monster withered with Arianna's gentle laugh. „It's the royal parlor. I'm reading," she explained. „Come sit down." She pointed to an armchair next to her.

After a quick stealthy look at Pete, Varian finally approached. His shy movements didn't match his straight face at all.

.

Thankfully, Ruddiger stayed close to Varian when he sat down on a wooden stool opposite Queen Arianna.

She was watching him carefully, somehow very serious despite the little smile he'd caused. „How are you?"

For a moment, he considered this question. But, before he had the bad luck to have any sort of answer form in his mind, his jaw tensed, teeth clenched together as he felt a stab of anger.

How am I? How am I?

And it felt right. He could do that—motion, offense, defense, back and forth. That made sense, way more sense than all that shyness that hung between them.

„What do you care?" he dared.

He should get ready to fight, vile words waiting to escape from his mouth. But as much as he wanted to spit in her face—and he did—something about Queen Arianna still demanded his respect. The sight of her saddened face sent a rush of heat to his cheeks and ears.

She didn't answer. What was the point of talking to him, then? They didn't know each other. Maybe she just wanted to look him in the eye, or maybe she wanted an apology.

Well, tough luck.

„What do you want?" he tried instead. He cringed at his slightly shaking voice—something she didn't seem to notice. It shouldn't be so difficult to stay angry. Varian had gotten too weak.

With a heavy sigh, the Queen put her book down on the table between them. Then, she opened it on the last page and took out a worn-out piece of paper. „I have something for you."

Varian eyed the paper, folded in half. A document? Or a letter? For a prisoner?

„I've actually found it last week. It's..." she hesitated. „It's your father's."

Silence.

What?

She waited for him to respond, the thing still in her hands.

Varian's heart hammered wildly in his chest as the Queen calmly unfolded the paper, briefly looking at its contents before putting it face down on the table.

She barely managed to push it slightly to Varian's direction when he sprang to his feet. She flinched. He didn't care.

The Queen of Corona, holding an ancient-looking piece of paper, looking all sad, saying it was about his father?

„Get that away from me," he breathed without choosing to.

He wouldn't accept it, not in a thousand years, there was no need, no way

Everything else faded away like a dispersing fog, and Varian involuntary looked to Pete, then Ruddiger, then back to Queen Arianna, with her hands frozen mid-air and the damned pointless scrap somehow moved even closer to him. He wanted it gone. She had to get it away.

Varian's leg collided with the stool, almost knocking it over, so he forced himself to stop stumbling backwards.

How could she? How could she be so cruel? It was such a calm day, he finally had a break so he could think soon, sit down and really think about how he was going to get out of this mess, what else he could do, and now she just came and destroyed all of it.

He looked away and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking her, why are you doing this to me?

The Queen, who had the audacity to look hurt for a moment, suddenly exclaimed, „Oh no!" She stood up, spreading her arms. „No, this is not—"

„I don't want it." His voice was a trembling whisper despite his attempts to gather up some strength. „I don't need it."

„No, Varian, it's not a..." A gentle hand appeared on his forearm, catching him off guard. „It's not a will," she finished in a low voice.

The Queen withdrew quickly, probably afraid he'd despise the touch.

He didn't move another inch. Was she really scared of him? And shouldn't it feel good?

I had felt good to tell her that she had been a pawn, a mere bait, to show her how little she had meant to him. To throw vague threats and silence her, to have power over her. It hadn't mattered that he hadn't had a plan for „making Corona pay", hadn't even thought that far—the fear on her face had somehow soothed some painful urge.

Apparently, he'd run out of that.

„I'm sorry," she told him quietly but surely. „I didn't want to upset you."

Something soft brushed against the alchemist's leg. Of course, Ruddiger was there, offering comfort. Varian picked his friend up, grateful for the familiar weight pressed against his slowly calming heartbeat.

Queen Arianna spoke again. „Let's sit down. You won't have to look at it, but it's nothing bad. I promise you."

At first, Varian wanted to stay frozen on the spot. But he'd have to move eventually, and—

He was stupid. He really was stupid, acting so dramatic over a piece of paper. Even if it had been a testament… it wouldn't be pointless to show him. After all, he had checked his calculations for a hundredth time now.

And they all were unbearably, disruptively correct.

He didn't know what to do with this information. What to do with anything, now that coming up with any plans seemed so pointless. He had pushed himself to think it all over, again and again, and nothing ever came out of it—he was out of ideas.

Only when Varian attempted to meet the Queen's eyes, he noticed water gathering in his. There was no trace of that determination that had seemed to be etched into her face before. She looked younger, and gentler. And so sad.

It made another weird feeling creep up from his stomach and settle in his throat. „Mhm," he managed. „Okay."


Arianna, you're doing amazing. Varian, ya not fine, not in the slightest.

Thank you for being here and, as always, I'm looking forward to your feedback ❤️