Hello, it's me, your friendly neighbourhood STINKY LIAR!

So sorry for disappearing off the face of the Earth for another month — life got in the way. Or rather, Corona got in the way. (now that's a sentence I've never thought I'd use 😅)

Also, "Consequences" got some lovely fanart omg, I'm dead 😭❤️❤️ Thank you, RossmaniteAnzu! 👏

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Pete awkwardly shuffled his feet.

Thank goodness he didn't have to intervene. For a moment, he was sure that Varian was going to do something violent, or scream at Her Majesty, or try to storm off. He didn't know that, but if he had done anything out of line, the meeting would be over.

But he didn't. Pete watched his frozen form with sympathy, oddly relieved to see it finally move to pick up the raccoon.

Her Majesty briefly looked at Pete as she rounded the table to hold Varian's arm. The guard nodded. Maybe he shouldn't be so glad that someone was still trying with this kid, but he was. He didn't like how quiet and timid Varian had gotten. Something had changed—Pete was sure. What he wasn't sure of was whether the change was for better or worse.

Maybe the Queen could get to the bottom of it. Pete wondered if she knew how much she had achieved already.

"Okay." Varian finally sat back down.

Her Majesty followed. "We can look at it later if you'll want to," she said. "So, I've heard you were helping around the kitchen today?"

This time, Varian's reply was louder. "Yeah."

"You know, I can't remember the last time I've been there," the Queen chatted. "I never liked cooking very much, but I used to do it a lot. I can truly appreciate the cooks' jobs, now that I've seen the horrors."

To Pete's surprise, Varian snorted. "Oh, there are horrors alright."

She laughed gracefully. "You were only cleaning though, you haven't seen the half of it."

"I think I'll pass."

The guard furrowed his brows. He wished he could see Varian's face, curious about his expression. His tone sounded harsh, but the words were so casual it felt like they had talked like that before. For the umpteenth time, Pete caught himself imagining what could've happened between those two when Varian had taken her prisoner. Or how the hell he'd done it.

Her Majesty laughed once more. "That bad?"

"I know, I should be grateful I'm even alive." The quiet voice caused the Queen's face to fall.

"Where did that come from?" There was no response. She sighed. "Varian. We would never… deliberately do anything to hurt you."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I hurt you."

"So I should hate you?"

Another shrug. "That would make the most sense, yes."

Pete crossed his arms. What was up with that kid? He hadn't had the chance to really get to know Varian, but from what he'd observed, he always questioned everything, even the littlest of things, and he would shut down anything that threatened the shreds of his weird, shattered world view.

Her Majesty's next words were surprisingly quiet and gentle. "I don't," she assured. "And I'm not sure I understand you. You opposed Frederic's sentence, and now you're—do you want to be punished?"

"No?" Varian scoffed. "I've done nothing wrong."

At that, Pete almost snickered. He believed that Varian wasn't a bad kid—unlike most of the Royal Guard at that point—but if he actually believed that, then he seriously needed to wake up.

But all the Queen answered was, "So what is this about?"

"It's—you shouldn't just—you're supposed to—" Varian stumbled. "I'm just pointing out how stupid… It just doesn't make sense."

"Why?" she challenged. "If you've done nothing wrong—"

"Okay, fine! I know." The raccoon gently landed on the floor when Varian interrupted. "I told you, I know how low I've sunk. Too bad. I was trying to save my family, I didn't care about yours," he spoke fast, voice unwavering. "I didn't care about wrong, and I still don't."

All of a sudden, Pete disliked the idea of prying into Varian's thoughts. He decided that he didn't want to know what was concealed under that awfully calm mask, not anymore.

"You have… you always..." Varian kept going. "You have people by your side… no one is on my side. Not even Ruddiger, as we all know, not really."

The striped tail near Varian's legs twitched nervously.

"There aren't any sides here, Varian."

"Clearly there are. I'm the bad guy who terrorized the kingdom and hurt people, you're the good guys who fought me and threw me in jail."

Confused, Pete scratched the back of his neck. Several questions formed inside his head. How could one recognize all the wrongs they'd done, see the cruelty and immorality, and still not regret a thing? How could one even begin to view Princess Rapunzel as enemy?

The boy didn't seem to notice when Her Majesty changed seats, settling in an armchair closer to Varian and patting his raccoon on the head. "Is that really all you are?" she asked skeptically. "Just a bad guy in jail?"

The room got quiet, save for Ruddiger's little whine as he lay down next to Varian's feet. And just when Pete thought that there wouldn't be another word uttered—

"No."

.

That was a good enough starting point, but silence fell all the same after Varian's nearly whispered negation.

Arianna almost wanted to ask, Who are you, then? But she knew what she would hear, regardless of the true answer.

He'd tell her that he was someone abandoned and left to struggle along with all of Old Corona, riddled by the black rocks. Or someone who had just wanted to help—or someone who had been denied help.

Forgotten, with no one to care if he was alright. Or—what was that word he'd used?—vilified. Left behind as his village had gotten empty. Chased out of his own home, away from Quirin, by Frederic's command.

Those were the things Varian saw—himself, alone, on the run, in a fight. Arianna struggled to blame him for it. Those were the things Varian had seen, unaware of Frederic's pain, fear and love, dismissive of Rapunzel's dilemma, her own struggle and her best intentions… and unforgiving in the face of Corona's care for the Princess he felt so let down by.

But even when he'd held her captive, Arianna hadn't expected him to attack just for the sake of it, and yet, once his awful plan had failed, he'd snapped.

Varian was wrong—none of them deserved to suffer, though it had seemed that in the end, he wanted them to.

Yet, Arianna thought, he had been the only person to cry in that room.

She hadn't looked twice at him when she'd run to her family, all three of them relieved beyond comprehension to be well and back together. Arianna felt no guilt for it, for being terrified for her child, in grave danger once again.

Nevertheless, deeply did she regret that there had been Varian watching—Varian, who, no matter how much wrong he'd done, ultimately was another child in Arianna's mind, a child despairing the loss of everything she'd held in her arms in that same moment.

And she'd held her whole world there.

She knew now that after pleading for help, oblivious to the urgent events unfolding on the mainland, he had walked back in that horrid blizzard—all the way to Old Corona, to what might've only been a frozen corpse of his father.

Truly, what could be left of his worldview?

It must've been easy to discard Rapunzel's friendship as a lie, and even easier to lose loyalty to Corona once it got the distorted news about his supposed attack on the Princess.

Arianna could see it clear as day when he countered her words for arguing's sake, scouring every memory for the scent of betrayal, listing the villains he felt hurt by—her daughter, her husband, her people. Everyone but himself, his family, and… maybe, just maybe, Arianna? Who knew, maybe she could be a bridge between those black-and-white halves he'd conjured up, maybe she could be the one to hold the light for him…

Oh, an idealist, she was.

"Here's the way you live now, Varian," she picked up, matter-of-factly. "You throw these harsh words and hate the people you've already punished."

Varian's blank face grew uneasy, and he lifted his gaze to look at her.

"But you can't spend your life stuck in anger, you can't go on like this," Arianna continued, almost happy to see his shoulders hunching as if in shame. "Trust me, I know a lot about fighting one pain with another. It doesn't help."

His eyes widened in realization. "Oh," he let slip. "I—I'm sorry."

I was talking about Frederic.

Was she?

Unsure, she settled for, "Don't be. I'm telling you this because I want to ask..."

Here it comes. Quite a dangerous question, as Arianna realized, the one she wasn't sure he was ready to hear, especially from her—the one that could make him shout or laugh it off, ending their talk, and turn away from any change.

Can you try to forgive us?

"Can you try to forgive yourself?"

Varian shifted on the stool. "Uh, what?"

Arianna dared to move too, sitting a little closer to him again. Now that the table didn't divide them, she could see his cheeks reddening under the handful of freckles. So similar to her beautiful girl.

She observed his shoulders hunching further, and an out-of-place smile settling on his face. It was somehow dim and sad, as though he'd led a tiring life—as though he could be only amused by her faith in him.

He shook his head. "No. Sorry, no." His little laugh was almost apologetic. "I'm not forgiving anyone. Not Rapunzel, not you, not myself." A little hiss could be heard in the last word, and a fleeting scowl distorted his small face. "Can it be alright with you?"

Arianna's heart pounded loudly in her ears at that mellow refusal. Something felt close and fragile, and she had to fight the impulse to hold her breath in fear of shattering it.

"We can talk about sunshine and rainbows." Varian's fingers gently fiddled with the tip of Ruddiger's tail. "You can tell me... all you want. About hope, trust and friendship. It's fairytales, and I'm really too old for those, even if you wanna treat me like a baby." He pushed the bangs away from his face, revealing a cool, controlled expression, feigned and maintained throughout the calm monologue. "I… don't get those."

The raccoon turned away from Arianna's hand to hop back onto his place at Varian's lap. His friend seemed nearly absent, focused on his words.

"I don't want to punish anyone. Seriously, I mean it," he said. "Not… not anymore. Maybe you've heard the rumors of the loser wizard who's not even that good at his own craft. That's me by the way, hello." Another misplaced laugh. "I've only been causing trouble all my life, and then I, you know... Everything about me is just wrong, isn't it, and everything would be better if it was me stuck in there. I know that. Or, or if I'd just stopped meddling before it was too late. Listen, I... I messed up big time."

He stared at her, a question burning in his eyes. "Forgive? My father's gone. How would I—how does anyone even begin to forgive something like that?"

Arianna shook her head, lips parting. But, before any words left her mouth in Rapunzel's defense, he continued. "So, no. I'm not forgiving myself. Unless I fix it somehow, but uh, breaking news, I have no idea how." Finally, his voice quavered and his smile shook. "But I can say whatever you want if that gets me out of this conversation."

She locked stares with Ruddiger, delving deep into the sorrow so evident despite the ruffled fur of his dark "mask" around his eyes. The little animal wrapped his paws around Varian's forearm, perfectly reflecting the worry that pulled down the corners of Arianna's lips.

Both seemed to escape Varian's notice, unseen just as much as Pete, loitering at the door with his gaze drilling into the floor.

As unsure as she'd felt before, that quiet display of loss helped Arianna finally settle on why exactly she was there.

Frederic didn't love the idea of Arianna meeting with Varian "so soon", but she knew she couldn't just sit and stare at her wounds forever*, watching them grow and blow out of proportion.

She didn't want to forget anything about the night of Rapunzel's nineteenth birthday. She wanted to be okay remembering—and she would be okay, just like she was okay with all the birthdays she'd missed in the end.

Those memories would always linger, but she would not yield to them—she embraced them. It felt as though she had given them a few inches of space inside her body, kept them safely within their fuzzy borders, so they wouldn't swallow her whole.

She would sometimes revisit this space, real and painful as ever, letting the memory resurface. A lot of those times, she would cry. And then she'd watch it all wax and wane, and wash over—and in the toughest days, Rapunzel's room would always be there, full of her paintings, full of her.

And so Arianna walked through the sorrows of grief with her love unscathed. Something she was now determined to teach Varian, more than ever.

"Oh, and now you're hurt," he deadpanned, not understanding her silence at all.

Don't worry, Mom. That was what Rapunzel would've probably said if she were there, never losing faith in her friends. He'll open up to you.

Arianna knew, there was no way Varian would simply trust her. For the time being, he seemed to simply reject the idea of trusting anything again. Except, maybe…

"May I?" She put her hand on the paper, gently lifting its corner with her thumb.

He was silent, but she didn't hurry him.

After a moment of tense hesitation, he sighed and nodded. "Sure." The word came out in a whisper.

Carefully, Arianna reached to the table. She felt more than saw Varian stiffen at her closeness before she lifted the portrait and offered it to him.

A tired, but kind face stared back at them, its smile gleaming with pride and calm confidence, wrinkling the skin around the warm, sincere eyes laughing under a pair of thick eyebrows. At Quirin's side, a wild cloud of auburn hair encompassed his wife's blushed cheeks and grin.

Arianna had expected Varian to freeze, take a moment. But his wide eyes started darting all over the portrait, from one face to another, examining every brushstroke as if he desperately wanted to memorize it all—but his brows furrowed and his lips pursed, contrasting with the obvious excitement of his gaze.

Once Varian slowed down and braved to devote his full attention to Quirin's eyes, Arianna's hand shook.

She tore her eyes away from the portrait and focused on Varian's profile. At the sight of his quivering lip, Arianna let her free hand venture to his shoulder, barely touching it.

He didn't flinch.

And so they sat, both having found a glimpse of something they were searching for.


Me: Okay, how long do I want this conversation to be?

Also me: Yes.

I can't help it, I like them too much, even though writing Varian so dispirited is painful. One more chapter and I'll let Arianna get some rest, I swear. 😂

As usual, I'd love to know your thoughts! Thank you and be safe! x