AN: Here we are with the latest installment of Killing Me Slowly. Oh, how I'd missed this story in the month that I took off from it. I'd missed it with everything in my heart, and I'm just so thankful that my inspiration is flowing once more. Today, we'll be rejoining Eugene as he, Cassandra, and Lance finally step foot on Maddolineon soil… and start their journey of tracking down Rapunzel.
Today's featured songs include The Pretender by the Foo Fighters, as well as favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo. These songs both showcase the general idea that I'm going for with this chapter: Eugene being willing to move heaven and earth to get to Rapunzel, to bring her back into his arms; to bring her back home, for the second time around. Will he succeed this time?
Enjoy!
Chapter 27: I Was Going Down, but I Was Doing It With You
All the things I did
Just so I could call you mine…
The last time Eugene had found himself in the infamous Kingdom of Maddoline, he was just barely twenty-one (fairly close to Rapunzel's current age, actually), and he'd admittedly spent most of that time drunk. As far as the rest of his time in Maddoline went, Eugene had inevitably spent it stealing recklessly from unknowing locals – with the trusty help of the young Stabbington brothers, of course. If the king of this fine kingdom – Charles's father, King George – knew that the even-more-infamous Flynn Rider had returned, he would very likely be just as quick to string Eugene up as Charles would be.
Eugene – much to his own chagrin – is wanted in more kingdoms than just Corona, and by more people than just Rapunzel.
Which is exactly why, as Eugene steps from the small boat that he, Cass, and Lance had taken from Corona and onto the creaking, wooden docks of Maddoline's main port, he keeps his head down – low. He'd created a large enough network here in Maddoline for someone to recall his face, if given the opportunity. Unwanted attention from any haywire business deals – or one-night stands, for that matter – is exactly what Eugene is trying to avoid. The last thing he needs is for anyone to recognize him before he can rightfully finish what Charles so pettily started, little more than revenge on his mind.
With a warrant still likely out for his arrest – even all these years later – Eugene doesn't need to be recognized before he can, preferably, kill Charles. Eugene wants to kill him, slowly and painfully. He wants to listen to the arrogant prince beg for the mercy which he'd never been graceful enough to grant to them. He wants to kill him in the same way that Charles has been slowly and painfully killing Eugene for months now. Charles has been killing him on the inside by way of not only marrying Rapunzel, but quite literally taking her away from him, and Eugene is far too eager to return the petty favor. He's far too eager to kill Charles with his own brand of bitter detestment; though, in a much more literal sense.
After all, Charles had recently tried to have him killed quite literally, as well. He'd tried to have Eugene killed by a girl with a crossbow: a girl who was still just a little too stuck in the past to be trusted to aim where it really counts. Eugene might've shot her in the heart once, but when all was said and done, Stalyan hadn't had the guts to do it right back. For once, Eugene feels a twinge of gratefulness toward Stalyan and her inability to let go of him completely.
Only a twinge.
Speaking of the wretched prince and his botched, secondhand murder attempts, Eugene thinks of Rapunzel, then; as if she hasn't been the only thing constantly on his mind for the past week-and-a-half since the determined trio had sailed out of Corona. He wonders what exactly had been running through her head as she'd stepped onto this very dock herself. He considers what Rapunzel might've been thinking as she'd laid her gorgeous, green eyes on the cobblestone streets and distant, rolling hills of Maddoline for the first time. He thinks about what she might be doing right now, how scared she must be, and whether or not Charles is with her at this very moment. Whether or not he's hurting her.
In what way he's hurting her.
Eugene considers what Rapunzel might've been thinking when Charles had no doubt led her into a world of cold isolation which shouldn't feel familiar to her, but will. Only now, she knows the difference between isolation and freedom. Something about that makes all of this so much worse, somehow.
Against his own advice, Eugene prays that his worst fears aren't telling the truth, threading themselves rampantly through his every thought, hell bent on running him straight into the ground before he can even get to her at all. He prays that Charles wouldn't sink quite so low, prays that the selfish prince somehow cares enough about Rapunzel not to seriously hurt her. But Eugene, after the hard knocks life that he's lived, is jaded just enough – lacking in naivety just enough – to know that he's likely operating on nothing more than wishful thinking.
And it's not that Eugene wouldn't love her anymore if Charles has hurt her. Not at all. His love for Rapunzel is completely unconditional and completely indestructible, much to Charles's obvious distaste. But the thought of Charles hurting her, regardless of that unconditional love which Eugene has for Rapunzel, is still entirely detestable in every way. It's detestable because of his undying love for her.
With Charles finally succeeding at getting him out of the picture, Eugene can only assume the worst. He can only assume that, even though they haven't been apart for all that long, Charles has hurt her. Eugene can only assume that Charles has tortured her in every possible way, and that Charles has touched her all over; that he's touched her in the places that only he should be able to touch her. Eugene can only assume – unable to protect her during these past two-and-a-half weeks – that Charles has shamelessly felt her skin, that he's tasted her; that he's spent his time wanting her in a way that Rapunzel would knowingly never want her husband in return.
The sheer thought of it – the mere notion of Charles lusting after her in this way, or in any way – makes Eugene want to vomit all over the wooden docks as he strides purposefully down them, in the same way that he actually had thrown up before they'd left Corona just over a week ago now.
At least, in the time which has passed since then, Eugene's arrow wound has begun to heal rather nicely; no thanks to Stalyan and her half-assed bandaging job. Then again, Eugene is simply glad that she was too weak at heart to shoot him right in the chest as initially instructed by Charles. Charles, determined and vengeful as he is, hadn't realized that Eugene Fitzherbert is seemingly impossible to kill.
He misses her. Rapunzel, of course. Not Stalyan. As Eugene makes his way down the sunbathed, wooden dock, he can't help his mind from drifting off and into daydreams of their past life together, pre-Charles. He misses the sound of her bare feet as they pad across the floorboards of his bedroom in the middle of the night, he misses the adorable scrunch of her nose when she laughs graciously at his stupid jokes, and he misses the warmth of her small hands all over him. Eugene misses her so damn much that his body feels as though it very well might be decaying. He's wasting away without her, though he ignores it.
It's not easy to ignore when you're rotting from the inside out, losing your ever-loving mind, but he does.
Eugene ignores his own slow decay, if only because it feels incredibly selfish to worry about himself at a time like this. He ignores it, because if Eugene focuses on his wellbeing right now (or lack thereof), he won't be strong enough to get to her. If he loses it completely, now that he's come this far, he'll have come this far for nothing. He won't be strong enough to save her, won't be strong enough to protect her from this nightmare in the way that he should've been strong enough to protect her from the very beginning. And right now, getting to Rapunzel is absolutely the only thing that matters in the world. He doesn't matter; nothing else matters.
He knows that. And yet, it feels nearly impossible for Eugene not to lose his mind at the simple thought of Charles touching her even slightly in the wrong way.
Rapunzel, as has been true since Eugene had first met her, is the only thing that really matters to him. There is no crown, no cushy lifestyle, and no selfishness of any villain of their story that could mean more; no bad thing that could have a stronger hold on him than all of her goodness does. No matter how much Eugene is out for blood (and he is), getting Rapunzel home safely is the most important thing.
Bitterly, Eugene recalls the last time he'd had his arms wrapped around her, the last time he'd kissed her with enough regret in their mouths to bring him to his knees. They'd been in a small sitting room, both of them standing there solemnly with salty tears streaming down their faces, Rapunzel having just tearfully spilled her guts to her parents about their affair; her tears, entirely hysterical and his, some resentful kind of stoic. The last time they'd seen one another, they'd been all but shattered into the smallest of pieces, absolutely wrecked beyond foreseeable repair. Both so guilty, so brokenhearted, and so desperate to never let go of one another, even though the outcome of their situation had been inevitable.
They'd been so desperate not to let go, that desperation had turned into stupidity, and stupidity had turned into carelessness. And carelessness had gotten her taken.
He'd known that it would happen. Eugene, even though he hadn't been aware of the full extent of Charles's plans, had known that shit would hit the fan at one point or another, and that it would hit hard. He'd known that their love story, once the marriage was finalized, would resort to being nothing more than a tragedy in its own right. He'd known that their star-crossed love would resort to being a tragedy in the way that it had almost been a tragedy when they'd first met, just in a different form.
It feels, in hindsight, as though they've always been destined to be taken from each other, by one villain or another.
And Eugene had tried. Really, he had. He'd tried to warn Rapunzel – even if his warnings were every kind of halfhearted, and even if she could see right through them, ripping his weaknesses apart as though they were nothing more than thin, weathered paper – that Charles would find out; that everyone would find out. He'd tried to warn her, with what little strength he's always had to tell her 'no,' that their secret could not be a secret forever. That they could not be together behind closed doors for the rest of their lives, because it wasn't fair to either of them. More importantly to him, it wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair to her that, if he stayed, Rapunzel would never even have a chance at a contented life with Charles. She would always want him, if he stayed, and would always sneak away from her husband for his sake.
Honestly, if it hadn't ended up hurting Rapunzel so much, Eugene wouldn't have cared if loving her behind closed doors were at all unfair to him. He could've left the castle, but he knows Rapunzel well enough to know that she would've snuck away to see him, anyway. Besides, he would do anything to call her his. He would be her willing accomplice, he would get his hands bloody in the massacre of their love. He would tear himself open, sew himself shut, over and over again. He would lose himself, he would lose his mind. All the necessary things in order to belong to her, he would do them. He would do anything she asked of him, if only to have her. If only to be her new dream, and every dream after that.
And does that make him any better than Charles – any less selfish – really?
This is exactly why it's so difficult to be truly angry with anyone but himself. Eugene could blame Charles for being so disgustingly selfish and so very much like Gothel, he could blame Rapunzel's parents for not knowing any better – for, like him, not protecting her better from this horrific repeat of history – and he could be angry with Rapunzel, even, for convincing him not to walk away, when walking away would've saved them both so much heartache. Eugene could be angry with Rapunzel for convincing him, as she always does, that everything will somehow be okay, even when it's so very clear that it won't be.
But then, he can't blame her for pushing the matter, because Eugene hadn't been strong enough to walk away from her, either. Even without Rapunzel's desperate convincing, he never would be. Without her convincing, he likely still would've stayed. He would've stayed for the brush of a hand, for a stolen kiss late at night. He would've stayed for a fleeting glimpse of her.
He never would be strong enough to walk away, because she'd fallen into him, and he'd fallen into her right back. They'd fallen so hard that the ground had come up faster than they ever could've prepared themselves for, their bones crushed there on the pavement as Charles swept them carelessly away. Their souls were so twisted and tangled that walking away was completely out of the question. She'd knocked on his door, she'd looked after him in a way that no one else ever had, and she'd loved him at his very worst. She'd loved him when he was pitifully drunk on the night before her wedding day to Charles, she'd loved him when Stalyan showed up, and she'd loved him when he couldn't protect her well enough to keep something like this from happening to her; from something like this happening to her again.
And still, Eugene had pressed on, even though he'd known that what they were doing was every kind of wrong. He'd pressed on, because even if he was going down, he was going down with her. Eugene, as much as he hates himself for it now, had ignored his own warnings no less than she had. He'd acted out of pure desire and utter selfishness, because he was – because he still is – too in love with her to let her go; even if letting Rapunzel go would have protected her from all of this in the long run. He'd known that Charles would, with time, find out about the affair. Eugene should've known that, what with Rapunzel's shiny track record, Charles would have found it appropriate to kidnap her in retaliation.
It seems that, when people want Rapunzel for their own selfish reasons, physically taking her is the only worthy response.
She's always deserved better than that. She's always deserved far better than being taken from everything that she loves – from everything that loves her – and Eugene realizes this each time that the shame of his actions punch him straight in the gut from the very moment that he wakes up every morning. When he's forced to remember, over and over again, that he'd essentially done nothing to protect her from being taken for the second time in nineteen years.
"You got a plan there, pretty boy?" Cassandra questions imperiously as Eugene stalks away from the small boat and makes his way down the rickety dock, not bothering to wait for Cass as she jogs along after him, nor does he bother to wait for Lance as he works quickly to tie the boat to the dock, gathering the few things that they'd brought with them. "Fitzherbert! I said –"
Cass, in all of her know-it-all glory, has been pissing Eugene the fuck off since he'd opened his eyes this morning. She always has to be in control of everything, always has to tell him what's best. And he's sick of it. They've only just arrived in Maddoline, and he's already sick of it. He's sick of being stuck with Cass, he's sick of having to explain his every decision to her, he's sick of her judgmental looks and backhanded comments, and he's sick of being without Rapunzel. He's so sick of everything. All Eugene wants to do is find Rapunzel, kick Charles's ass into next week, and go the fuck home.
But the universe could never be that easy on him, now could it?
"I freaking heard you, Cass." Eugene bites, though he doesn't turn around to look at her as he speaks, not at all in the mood to spend any more time with Cassandra, having just spent over a week with her on a tiny, cramped boat. "You want a plan? Fine. Here's a plan for you. I'm going to find Rapunzel, I'm going to find the motherfucker who took her from me, and I'm going to rip his fucking throat out."
Cass doesn't falter, quickly falling into step with him, and she doesn't even bat an eye at the brash statement; more likely than not, because she's spent most of their trip fantasizing about doing the very same thing to Charles. But Cass, always so annoyingly logical, crosses her arms haughtily and says:
"What about Rapunzel? You're just going to let her stand there on the sidelines while you get your little revenge fix?"
"She's more than welcome to watch me kick his ass if she wants." Eugene chuckles bitterly, picturing a pissed off Rapunzel wielding a frying pan. "Hell, she might even help me do it, knowing her."
And if she does help him beat the crap out of Charles, it's going to be very hard for Eugene to keep his hands off of Rapunzel on the way home. It's going to be hard regardless, but even harder then.
Fuck, he misses her.
"Right. Let's just teach Rapunzel about murder, while we're at it! Let's teach her how to have affairs, and how to kill people in the name of revenge, and how to –"
"Maybe I should teach you how to shut the hell up." Eugene grinds under his breath, hoping she won't hear.
But, Cass being Cass, her ears perk up and the bitter message is received, loud and clear.
"Oh, you're just acting like a little kid now, Eugene. Quit pouting." Cass bites back, growing rather cross herself. "You're just mad because I'm the only one who will tell you the truth. Because I'm the only one who's not afraid to stop coddling you – or Rapunzel, for that matter – for two seconds long enough to keep you from doing something incredibly stupid. I'm the only one brave enough to tell you that you should've kept your dick in your fucking pants!"
Eugene scoffs, listening to the loud footsteps thundering behind him against the wooden planks of the dock as Lance works to catch up with him and Cass.
"Oh, fuck off, Cass! I've heard enough, alright?" Eugene halts his frustrated stalking and raises his voice slightly now, just enough for Cassandra to know that he's desperately not in the mood for her daily dose of sister-like condescension. "I've heard it all enough on the fucking boat with you! I know that I fucked up, alright? I know. I don't need you to tell me that over, and over, and over again! I'm beating myself up enough as it is!"
He hears Cass sigh at that – loudly – and although she would never apologize for her harsh words, Eugene knows (as much as he doesn't want to admit it right now) that Cass is only so blunt with him because she cares. She cares about Rapunzel; she cares about Rapunzel almost as much as he does.
"Eugene… Eugene, wait." When he doesn't respond immediately, resuming his angry march across the dock, Cass grabs at the back of Eugene's collar, halting him and stepping before him so that he can't continue to huff along in front of her. "Just… wait up. I'll give you a break, alright? At least until we actually find Rapunzel. But we can't go into this with anger completely blurring our vision, okay? She wouldn't want that for you."
Cass blows a piece of fallen bang out of her eyes, cocking her head to peer closely at him, something which painfully resembles empathy shining in her eyes.
"Look. I'm pissed off, too. I'm beyond angry at this asshole for taking her like this. For sending us on this wild fucking goose chase to find her, when she should be home and safe with us. But we have to keep our heads about us, or this is never going to work. Our coming here will be for nothing if we aren't extremely careful. If we don't think things through, at least a little."
Eugene sighs heavily, running a frustrated hand through his own hair, fingers itching to hold her instead.
"Yeah." Reluctantly, he finally looks back to Cass, having been avoiding her eyes for most of her 'get your shit together' speech. "Yeah, alright."
Eugene isn't about to admit out loud that she's right, but it's the closest that he's going to get to doing just that.
"Hey," Heaving a little from trying to catch up, Lance comes up behind Cass, placing a gentle hand to her shoulder – which she looks to with a raised eyebrow, but doesn't push away. "Why don't we grab a bite to eat? Get recuperated after spending over a week on that cramped boat. We can't think up a good rescue plan for the princess on empty stomachs."
Respectively, Eugene and Cass both want to make as little stops in Maddoline – draw as little attention to themselves – as possible. But they both know that Lance is right: if they don't meet their own basic needs, such as food and sleep, they aren't going to be able to rescue Rapunzel. None of them have eaten much of anything since last night before bed, when they'd each eaten a small handful of bread and fruit. Having tried their best to ration their food between the three of them all week, they've been sleeping like shit and working one another's last nerve, what with their grumbling stomachs and quickly mounting anxiety.
"Fine." Eugene mutters, stepping off the dock and heading into the cobblestoned, portside area which lines the Maddolineon coast. "We'll get something to eat, quickly. But then, we're figuring out how to find Rapunzel. We don't have time to fuck around."
"Roger that, Captain." Lance teases with a mock, two-fingered salute, having tried his very best to lighten the stressed, tension-filled mood between Eugene and Cass while on the boat.
Weaving through the bustling, early afternoon crowd in downtown Maddoline and approaching a pub with vaulted ceilings and tall windows, Eugene realizes that the pub in question actually looks rather familiar to him. Though, he doesn't immediately recall the name of the bar upon approach, as it's been about five years since he's stepped foot in Maddoline.
The Stolen Maiden.
Eugene looks to the sky after reading the pub's welcoming, swinging sign, raising his hands in a 'what the hell?' gesture, as though he were addressing the universe in its vast entirety.
"Is this some kind of fucking joke?"
Cass snorts after reading the tongue-in-cheek pub name for herself, yanking at the wooden door handle and holding the door open, waiting for Eugene and Lance to step inside before her.
"For once, Fitzherbert, we were thinking the exact same thing." Cass murmurs as she files in behind the two ex-thieves, the trio standing momentarily in the entryway as the door swings shut behind them, surveying the spacious – though mostly vacant – pub. "Looks like we almost missed out on our daily dose of irony, huh?"
It's barely past noon, meaning the pub is essentially empty, though a few barflies are scattered around the wooden tables and at the bar, which is located against the north end of the long, wood-paneled room.
"Come on, boys." Cassandra breathes, not sure how much attention she wants to draw to the three of them, but knowing that they need to refuel if they have any hopes of tracking Rapunzel down, and tracking her down soon. "I'm starved."
"What can I getcha, Miss?" The barkeep wipes his hands on the white apron wrapped around his front as Cass approaches the bar, shooting her a thin smile; the smile being the only acknowledgement that he offers to Eugene or Lance alike.
Cassandra studies the minimal menu written in chalk above the barkeep's head for only a moment.
"I'll have a bowl of the soup."
The reserved barkeep only nods, turning to the deep, metal container resting above the impressive, brick fireplace situated directly behind the counter.
"Make that two, please." Lance chimes in, raising his hand in a gesture that the barkeep, again, only nods to.
"I'll take a shot of whiskey. The strongest stuff you've got."
Both Cassandra and Lance look to Eugene with a slightly bewildered expression, because it's just past noon, after all. Eugene simply shrugs nonchalantly, not really in the mood for the opposition. He knows that he can't play Flynn Rider now that he's back in Maddoline, but will a little whiskey really hurt? It's been a mess of a few weeks without her. No, it's been a mess of a few months.
He's been a mess without her.
"What?"
"You can't drink!" Cass grabs at his forearm as the bartender pours him a shot, as if to swat Eugene away from the alcohol as its set on the counter before them. She leans in close, hissing between gritted teeth, dark eyes darting around to make sure that no unwanted attention is upon them from any of the midday bar hoppers. "We're quite literally on a rescue mission here! And you should really eat something."
"I'm not going to get drunk off of one shot, Cass." Eugene rolls his eyes, offended – but not entirely surprised – by her utter display of such little faith in him. "Who do you think I am? Some lightweight? A guy who can't handle his alcohol?"
A guy who can't handle keeping his girlfriend safe, it seems.
Mistake number one, Eugene should've known, was asking Cassandra what she thinks of him.
"I think that you're the idiot who lost the princess. The princess, might I add, who's already been lost once before." Cass grinds, releasing (along with her frustration) the heavy statement that stops Eugene's hand; his hand, which had been about halfway between himself and the shot of whiskey waiting for him on the wooden bar top. "That's what I think."
Okay, so maybe she's got a bit of a point there. Maybe he should've done more to keep Rapunzel safe, and maybe downing a shot of whiskey isn't going to bring her back to him. But even then, Eugene still doesn't want to hear it. Not when he's beyond heartbroken, all kinds of exhausted, feeling utterly lost without Rapunzel, and has a pounding headache (mostly thanks to Cassandra and her constant nagging).
Besides, a little bit of whiskey has never hurt anyone, and Eugene is in need of the extra courage if he wants to get through this rescue mission.
He's in need of the extra, liquid courage, much as he doesn't want to admit it. Eugene doesn't need the courage to actually find Rapunzel, but to prepare himself for seeing her in a terrified, traumatized state that he really doesn't want to see her in again. Seeing her in that way – chained and gagged in the tower, begging for him to just turn around and face his fate – had been enough for one lifetime. Frankly, Eugene doesn't want to experience a similar situation ever again, but he knows that he needs to brace himself for the absolute worst. He needs to brace himself for the worst, because Charles is the worst.
Whiskey, dependable as it is, could – at the very least – numb the blow of another ten-years-worth of trauma for the both of them. And really, what's the harm in that? As far as Eugene is humbly concerned, Cassandra needs to get the freaking stick out of her ass, if only so that he can beat Charles with it.
Eugene drops his outstretched hand, placing it palm-down on the counter, working his jaw for a moment before turning back to Cassandra with a scowl. Returning the expression, Cass stares him down with a hard look of her own, eyebrows pushed together in clear annoyance, showing no sign of backing down.
"Do you really want to do this here, Cass? Right here, right now?" Eugene lowers his voice, bending his neck so that Cassandra can still hear him clearly, not wanting to draw any further attention to their argument. "I thought you said that you were going to get off my ass for five seconds."
Pick your battles, Eugene. Pick your battles and pick them wisely.
Eugene sighs heavily when Cass simply glares wordlessly up at him, not in the mood for the lady-in-waiting's annoying attempts to boss around and mother him; especially not after being on a cramped boat with her for a little over a week. They'd gone in circles for the entirety of ten straight days, round and round again, so fast that it made Eugene dizzy. They'd done nothing but argue, Cassandra having reminded him over and over how colossally he'd fucked up. Frankly, just hearing her voice now, is enough to give Eugene a high-grade migraine.
The alcohol might help with nursing the headache, even if it can't get rid of Cass.
"It's your cross to bear, Eugene." Cass finally murmurs with a shrug, motioning haughtily to the shot as she takes a healthy step away from the bar, as if to wordlessly showcase her reluctant surrender on the issue. Though, the thick tension between them is no lesser due to the gesture, her bitterness toward him still on clear display. "This is your rescue mission, after all. I'm just along for the ride. Right?"
She's implying that this is his mission to carry out, ultimately. That it's his fault they're here in Maddoline in the first place.
"Whatever, Cass."
Eugene rolls his eyes, defeatedly sinking into a seat at the bar as Cassandra reaches past him for the bowl of steaming soup that the barkeep had set down for her, pulling some loose change from her pocket and slapping it down onto the counter. Wordlessly, Lance takes his own bowl with a supportive grimace in Eugene's direction. The two of them sit down at a circular table near the bar, assuming that it might be best to leave Eugene to stew on his own for a few minutes.
"Real shame what happened to the king." The bartender mutters from the other end of the counter as he wipes it down, and Eugene's ears perk at the intriguing comment, directed at another man – a dark-haired lad in his mid-thirties, maybe – hunched over the bar. "I'd love to know who –"
"A shame?" One of the few customers hanging out at the wood-topped bar – a scrawny, old man with a weathered face and tan skin – exclaims from the opposite end of the counter from his spot near Eugene. "There ain't no shame to be had. Not even if he is dead! Actually, I want to personally shake the hand of whoever picked him off!"
Slinging the wet rag that he'd been using to wipe down the counter over his shoulder, the barkeep raises an eyebrow at the old, temperamental man, crossing his arms over his chest with an unsatisfied grunt.
"Now, Darce. It's just barely past noon, and I still have a lot of orders in the back to see to, so I really don't have time to sit and chat about –"
The bartender sighs heavily, obviously a foot deep in regret about starting the conversation already, as the old man is too far gone to be stopped now.
"That's what happens in this shithole of a country. They take and they take from you, until you got nothin' left to show for yourself! Nothin' to show for decades of working your hands right down to the bone!" The gruff barfly rolls his eyes, wearing the chip on his shoulder like an apparent badge of honor. "It's been this way twenty-five years now! Nothin's ever gonna change, even if the sorry bastard is dead. His asshole son will just step up and take his place, no worse for wear. Just another selfish bastard to take what little we got from us."
"When did the assassination happen?" Eugene wonders aloud, not particularly wanting to draw any added attention to himself during his time here in Maddoline, but knowing that he's in desperate need of some valuable information if he has any intention of finding Rapunzel.
The old barfly turns to Eugene with beady eyes, pulling his long face from his glass of beer with a shrug.
"Little more than a week ago. Nine or ten days, maybe."
Has it really been that long since she arrived here? Has she really been suffering here for that long already, waiting for me to come for her? Fuck. Why did the journey here have to take so damn long? And what about this assassination attempt? Had she seen it? Had she been hurt? I need to know everything!
The old man eyes him more closely – before turning briefly over his shoulder to eye Cassandra and Lance, as well – and Eugene is thankful that his arrow wound is wrapped up beneath his white, long-sleeve shirt; lest he make them look like the untrustworthy sources, and not the off-his-rocker old man sopping up beer like a sponge at twelve in the afternoon in the middle of the work week. The last thing Eugene needs is for anyone to be suspicious of them, even if they should be.
"You three don't look like yer from around here."
The trio hadn't dressed extravagantly. Instead, they'd decided upon donning their most toned-down clothing for the journey to Maddoline, not wanting to bring any unnecessary scrutiny upon their otherwise royally-dressed selves. Eugene had even ransacked his bedroom in order to find the old, turquoise-colored doublet that he'd worn when he was still playing the role of Flynn Rider – the one that he'd been wearing when he'd met her.
It had felt a little strange to slide his arms into the nostalgic item at first, if only because he hadn't worn it much since arriving at the palace over a year ago now. Since then, he'd opted for vests and outfits of much higher quality, donning expensive materials of silk, satin, and high-end leather that a sorry thief like himself never would've been able to afford before; at least, not without stealing them. As far as anyone here should be concerned, they're simply a trio of young friends enjoying an afternoon meal together.
Eugene clears his throat uncomfortably, not wanting to give himself away, but knowing that he can't escape the burning eyes of the nosy, unpatriotic barfly now that he's captured his hazy-eyed attention.
"We're not. Actually, we're here on… business."
Right. The business of kicking some serious ass and getting the love of my life back.
"Well, take my advice. Turn around and go back to wherever it is that cha youngin's came from." The old man leans in close, the smell of strong ale on his stale breath, jabbing a thumb toward the door behind them. "You don't want to be in this place. It's like a bottomless pit. Sucks ya in whole and spits ya right back out, but only when it's taken everything from ya."
Jaded much?
Maddoline certainly isn't the best kingdom that Eugene has ever been to – Italy had been much more intriguing, Spain far more inviting – but it surely isn't the worst, either. Or so he'd thought. But again, five years ago, Eugene hadn't been thinking about much more than how to get filthy rich and laid.
Internally reasoning that he's got nothing left to lose, Eugene shifts out of his seat to stand, casually leaning against the counter before the old man and turning on the trusty, Flynn Rider Charm; something that he hasn't flipped on in quite some time. Though, with the old doublet on, it's not hard to fall back into the role. Actually, it's much easier than Eugene would really be proud to admit.
But it doesn't matter if Eugene's conscience is screaming at him to get it together, because Rapunzel needs him, and he's not sure if he can trust this old, ale-sipping man at the bar. Though, the man seems to despise the royal family of Maddoline just enough to potentially give up some worthwhile information.
"I'm here to inquire about the Princess of Corona. She's rumored to be here." Eugene tilts his head at the beer-soaked old man, trying his best to appear as nonthreatening – though as persuading and charming – as possible. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"
The old man leers forward, exposing a cracked, toothy grin.
"I might know somethin' about her. I might not." The man takes a long sip from his glass, the slight smile still tugging at his mouth, eyes never leaving Eugene's as he sets the glass of beer back down onto the counter with a painfully slow leisure. "Why ya askin'? Got a crush on the girl or somethin'? Tryna steal her away from that prince of hers?"
Eugene makes a short, chuckling sound – a quick breath of air through the nose – though his face remains relatively straight and unamused, albeit the very small smile which tugs at the corners of his own lips.
"Yeah." Eugene responds, tongue planted firmly in cheek, the irony of the entire situation not at all lost on him, though he knows the old man means nothing more than a joke of it. "Something like that."
"Arrived a little over a week ago, same day as the assassination. Caught a glimpse of her at the festival as her carriage was rollin' on by. Tiny little thing, from what I could gather. Hung out the window, just for a second. Cute girl." Another long drink from his glass before the barfly continues on. "Looked scared out of her mind, though, especially once the king went down. The bastard."
The old man shakes his head, taking another extended sip of his beer, and it takes everything in Eugene not to shake the man and beg him to not stop talking; not even for the alcohol, which surely tastes a lot better than talking about the royal family, which so clearly leaves a bad taste in the old man's mouth.
"Didn't see much after that, though. I came back to the bar to take shelter, just in case they started pickin' off just anyone."
Looked scared out of her mind… my poor, sweet girl! She's probably terrified! And what if something's happened to her?
"I don't even know why I left the bar in the first place. I haven't bothered to attend the Coming-of-Spring festival in decades." The barfly continues to ramble on, though Eugene is too preoccupied with the new information that the man had potentially seen Rapunzel in the last week or so to fully listen now. "Complete waste of my time. All it is, is just another excuse for the fuckin' royal family to parade themselves around and be applauded for doin' nothin'. Nothin' to help those of us who actually need it."
Eugene raises an eyebrow skeptically, not sure how much he can trust the judgement of this man; this man, who's already about five glasses deep in a dark, amber ale, and it's not much later than noon. Then again, what other choice does Eugene have but to trust this man? Going off the information of a drunk is conceivably better than having no information about Rapunzel and her possible whereabouts at all.
"You saw her, then? You really saw the princess?" Though Eugene so badly wants information on Rapunzel, he also knows that he can't allow his desire to find her to cloud his judgement, and he can't trust just anyone here in Maddoline. Allowing his desires to cloud his judgement is what forced all of them to Maddoline in the first place. "And you're sure it was her?"
"Oh, yeah. Plain as day. I knew it was her when I saw that young prince with her. What's his name again? Baby of the family. They call him… they call him Charlie, I think." The old man eyes Eugene, and Eugene wonders if he's being too forward, and if he can really trust this man not to spread word that some guy from another kingdom is here to find the prince's new wife. "Yer going to an awful lot of trouble to track her down, comin' to this shithole. Ya really like this girl, don't cha?"
"You don't know the half of it." Eugene mutters under his breath, shivering slightly at the mention of Charles's name, and wondering just exactly what the old man means by 'shithole,' when Charles has always done nothing but paint Maddoline to be the greatest kingdom to ever stand upon the good, green earth.
"Bah." The old man waves his hand dismissively, taking another long sip of beer. "Women are overrated."
Sure, most of them. But not this one.
"Does the royal family stay in the palace after an assassination attempt?" Eugene wonders aloud, more to himself than to the old man, not really expecting him to answer appropriately. "I can't imagine that they would."
Eugene thinks of the assassination protocol back home in Corona. If an assassination attempt were to be experienced by any or all of the royal family members – or if an assassination were to actually be carried out successfully – the remaining members of the royal family would be moved to their hidden home located deep in the Coronan countryside. There they would stay until the perpetrator was found, or at least until it was deemed safe enough to return to the palace by the Captain of the Guard. Assumedly, the royal family of Maddoline must have some sort of similar protocol, no?
"It's been rumored that they got a big ole manor up in the countryside there. Canmore, I think it's called, after the royal family. Because one massive house just wouldn't be enough for em." The old man scoffs, drawing a lazy finger along the rim of his glass. "I'd assume that they'd hide out there for a while, get their bearings. Maybe try to figure out who was responsible for shootin' the king in the meantime. Matter of fact, I hope they don't find the guy. I hope he just gets away with it. Give that royal family a taste of their own damn medicine."
Another generous tilt back of his beer, and Eugene is starting to wonder if this old man is completely losing it, or if he's the only sane person in the entire kingdom of Maddoline.
"Fuck the patriarchy, huh?" Eugene murmurs quietly, not really expecting the man to hear him.
The old man – Darce, apparently – laughs heartily then, slapping Eugene hard on the shoulder. But Eugene doesn't flinch, playing along, because he's erratically desperate for any and all information about Rapunzel and Charles.
"That's right, my boy! That's exactly right." With a lift of his beer to the high, vaulted ceiling, the old man toasts gaily to no one in particular, quickly downing most of what's left of his dark, foamy drink. "Fuck the patriarchy!"
Darce leans in once he's finished his beer and has motioned to the barkeep for another glass (who only rolls his eyes and slides another down like it's nothing more than routine clockwork), beckoning for Eugene to come closer. A small smile tugs at his wrinkled lips, as though he were actually enjoying the conversation; as though most people here don't want to listen to him complain all that much, because they've already been doing so for years on end.
Maybe the old man is really onto something. And maybe he's feeding Eugene a line of bullshit because he simply likes the attention.
"Rumor has it, they're throwin' a big masquerade ball up at Canmore by week's end. It's a bit of a high society event, from what I've heard. Not meant for people like you and me."
Eugene isn't exactly sure what the old man means by 'people like you and me;' regular guys or raging alcoholics. He takes a quick look at the shot of whiskey that he's so far left untouched, and Eugene wonders what Rapunzel would say right now if she were here. She'd probably melt this crotchety old man's heart in an instant, making him bite his tongue and wonder if life really is so bad when she exists in the world.
"The greedy bastards. Spending our tax money on another fuckin' ball! They're tryna 'raise public spirits' after the assassination attempt, or whatever it was. Raise spirits, my ass. Not much help to the rest of us when ya only invite yer rich friends. I'll raise my spirits, alright!" The old man narrows his eyes violently then, taking his fresh drink into a shaky hand and raising it to the wooden rafters once more, a bit of beer slopping over the rim and splashing onto the floorboards beneath their feet. "This one's fer you, old Georgie boy! I hope yer fuckin' dead!"
"Well, guys," Albeit a bit bewildered, Eugene returns to Cassandra and Lance at their table – who'd been eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time, trying to sip at their soup as non-conspicuously as possible – murmuring to them quietly as the barfly turns back around to hunch over the counter, still muttering curses under his breath. "Looks like we've just found our next order of business."
Cass makes a face as she watches Eugene look down at Lance with mischievous eyes as a wide smile spreads across Lance's mouth, because this surely isn't their first rodeo when it comes to breaking into a high-class event. Eugene turns to Cass then, really smiling for the first time since arriving in Maddoline, because they might just be one step closer to getting Rapunzel back.
And God, is it going to feel good to finally have her safely in his arms again. It's been a long, agonizing two-and-a-half weeks.
Eugene suddenly returns to the bar top and grabs for the shot glass that he'd left untouched once he'd started a worthwhile conversation with the old barfly, downing the whiskey in one, quick motion without wincing even a little. He then places the glass back onto the smooth, wooden counter with a satisfying thunk, turning back to an unamused Cassandra with a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
"What's that face?" Cass grimaces, preparing herself for what she already knows is coming. "I hate it when you make that stupid face."
But Eugene only smiles, because Cass can hate him all she wants, as long as they get Rapunzel back.
"Ever been to a masquerade ball before?"
"We look freaking ridiculous."
"I don't know, Cass. I have to disagree." Lance counters, turning halfway around in the full-length mirror to examine his own behind in the tight-fitting, maroon pants that he'd found in the dusty thrift shop. "I think we look sexy!"
"This is your plan, Fitzherbert? Seriously?" Cass hisses as she motions to the gigantic dress hanging from her hips, though he can only see half of her distasteful expression through the matching mask tied around the back of her head. "This is how you want to spend the little funds that we have with us? Why didn't we bring more money, anyway? We literally came from the palace!"
Eugene shrugs into a midnight blue suit jacket, adjusting the matching mask which has been tied around his own head, concealing a large portion of his face.
Even with half of his face covered – even with a missing girlfriend to find – he still looks damn good.
"We were kind of in a rush, Cass. Besides, we don't need all the funds. We're not going to be here very long, if all goes smoothly. And if we want to infiltrate this thing, we at least need to blend in."
Blending in; that is, if blending in translates to large, poufy dresses, tight suit jackets, and satin masks. Very ominous.
"And what if all doesn't go smoothly, huh?" Cassandra demands, hands planted firmly to her hips; hips which are hidden behind a tight corset that, truth be told, she looks a little comical in, if only because it's so opposite from her typical getup. "What then, Eugene? Do you have some big, secret Plan B that you haven't gotten around to telling me about yet?"
"If shit goes haywire, we'll just shift gears." Eugene shrugs nonchalantly, but he sighs heavily at the unimpressed look that Cassandra throws him. "We're gonna get her back, Cass. I'm not leaving here without her. There's no way in hell. And I know that you would never leave without her, either. We came into this rescue mission knowing that it wasn't going to be easy. That Charles was going to cover his bases." Eugene lifts his arm, nodding to the bandage wrapped tightly around his surely-healing bicep. "But all we can do now is use the information that we have and get to her as soon as possible."
Inspecting himself in the small mirror on the wall, Eugene ignores the still-skeptical look on Cass's face.
"I think this masquerade ball is the best way to do that. Although I almost can't bear to wait even just a few more days to get to her, I think the ball is going to be the perfect cover for us to get in and get out of the manor without being noticed. If we attempt to get Rapunzel now, without a distraction or a plan, I honestly don't know if we'll succeed. We might only put her in more danger that way."
A comically-dressed Cassandra raises a condescending eyebrow at this – her silent way of saying 'no shit' – and Eugene feels himself falling back into a slight air of annoyance with Cass, because she'd been the one preaching about them needing to formulate some sort of plan when they'd first arrived in Maddoline just a few hours ago.
"Alright. I'll do your little dance." Cass cocks her head, pressing a finger gently to Eugene's chest, as if to give him a wordless warning. "But this plan of yours better fucking work, Eugene."
Pushing her wrist away, Eugene shrugs out of the tight suit jacket, slinging it over his forearm so he can purchase it on the way out. A small part of him – only momentarily – screams at him to just steal it, to just say, 'fuck this kingdom and everyone in it.' But he knows that Rapunzel wouldn't like that, and he's not that man anymore, anyway. Sure, the last time that he was here in Maddoline, he would've stolen anything without a second thought or twinge of guilt lingering on his conscience. But now, he's not here by way of petty theft and pipedreams of getting rich somehow. He's here to steal back something that's always been his, anyway.
And then, is it really even stealing?
"We have two nights until the ball." Eugene leans against the wall in the narrow, cluttered thrift shop as Cassandra disappears behind the dressing room curtain, listening semi-amusedly as she struggles to hassle herself out of the tight corset. "We should really get a room at an inn or something. We can stay in town for a night, then we can start figuring out where this mystery manor is located tomorrow."
"If you seriously think that I'm rooming with you two idiots after spending a week-and-a-half on a cramped boat with you," Fully dressed again, Cass throws back the curtain, pushing the expansive dress against Eugene's chest and nodding her head for him and Lance to follow her back to the front of the store. "You're insane."
"Fine." Eugene huffs, carrying the bundle of thick fabric as he follows Cass to the cashier's station, placing the heavy dress and his own outfit onto the counter as Lance places his items down, too. Eugene then reaches into the small, leather pack fastened around his waist, fumbling around for the (thankfully reasonable) price which the quiet cashier rings up. "We'll get two rooms, Miss 'we should save our money.' If two are even available. There was just a huge festival going on around here, after all."
"Yeah, before the king got shot, apparently." The cashier suddenly mutters, reminding Eugene that they probably shouldn't be openly discussing their rescue plan in front of anyone.
"Something, isn't it?" Eugene responds blandly, hoping that the cashier means nothing more by the statement than simple small talk; hoping that the man hadn't been eavesdropping on their entirely conspicuous conversation.
The cashier gently closes the drawer of the cash register, placing his palms down flat on the counter, staring Eugene in the eye as he lowers his voice so much that Eugene must lean in with the top half of his body pressed over the counter to hear the man clearly.
"Now, I don't know exactly what you three are planning, and I don't particularly want to get involved." The cashier grimaces, wordlessly referring to the obviously-disheartened, already-treacherous state of the kingdom. "But if it's of any help, Canmore Manor is located just about two hours outside of the kingdom, due east from Duke of Rochester Street. That is, if you make good time."
Eugene stutters, moving to quickly gather the clothes, terrified that he's blown it; terrified that he's blown his one chance at stealthily getting Rapunzel back, and terrified that this old cashier is completely loyal to the king and royal family at large. Well, loyal enough to send word to the palace or to someone important that Eugene is here in Maddoline, more than prepared to leave with their beloved prince's head on a stick.
"I don't know what you're talking ab –"
"I got two horses out back. Good horses." The cashier continues with a thumb jutted over his shoulder, ignoring Eugene's stunned stammering. "You wanna borrow em or not?"
"Yes!" Cass hastily pushes past a dazed Eugene, unsurprisingly wanting to take control of the situation. "Yes. We want them."
"Well, go on then. Get." The cashier – in his gracious gruffness – allows a small smile to tug at the corners of his thin lips, eyes sparkling just a bit. "Before I change my mind."
"Thank you." Eugene breathes gratefully, quickly gathering the clothes from the counter and rushing out of the thrift shop, not even waiting to see if Cass and Lance are hot on his heels.
Though, of course, they are.
"Don't you worry, Blondie. I'm on my way."
I'm finally on my way.
AN: Shoutout to Kelsey for helping me when trying to come up with the pub name used in this chapter! This chapter – just for your superb creativity – is dedicated to you, my friend!
I hope to see you guys in the next one, where we will return to Rapunzel's side as she discovers some interesting information about her new, temporary home. And, like Eugene, she will also be learning about the fast-approaching masquerade ball.
Sending my love to you all, and thank you – as always – for reading!