Wither and decay end this destiny,

Break these earthly chains,

And set the spirit free. The spirit free.

A haunting melody crawled over stonewalls. Slowly it filled each corner with misery and sorrow, draining life from everything in its reach - a true fuel for nightmares.

He rose to the sound. Familiar voices whispered in the dark. His head throbbed violently against his skull as colorful spots danced in his vision and he pushed down the upcoming nausea. Not sure what had happened, he tried to lift the fog from his hazy mind till it gave way to a flood of memories; a blizzard swallowing the kingdom, his son's gaze clouded in fear. Ice and snow and pain waited outside. And then Varian left. No! It was dangerous! Why didn't he stop him? Why didn't he went after him? Why - A yellowish glow flashed before his eyes, the burning sensation of chemicals over his skin, an acrid smell, and the eerie silence shattered by a crunch that grew and grew, coming from every direction, getting closer, getting louder, more frantic - The amber! He was trapped. His crushed from all sides. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything. There was no escape. His heartbeat quickened while the rock-like substance wrapped around his body. Time passed in slow motion, constricting and binding until the blackness of his golden prison was absolute.

"Dad! Dad, you're alive!"

He blinked. Varian flung himself at his chest, nearly knocking them off their feet. Quirin like always was there to softened the blow. Weak-kneed they reached for each other and Varian buried his face into his father's coat. Hot tears soaked through the fabric as his child wept freely in his arms. Never had Quirin felt more grateful in his life. He held Varian as close as humanly possible. Reveling in the endless relief, he allowed himself to relax. His son was safe. They were together. Nothing else mattered.

"Dad the note! Wha-What-what did it say? I need to know."

Lovingly he watched Varian tumble over his words. Quirin gently cupped the sides of his face in his hands, his palm a vicious contrast to the white of his skin. He didn't think he could ever have this again, treasuring the moment on and on. Though he did remember the letter. He also remembered the regrets while writing. So many things untold, so many things never to be heard, all bleeding over a single crumbled piece of paper. What a fool he was. Varian deserved better and Quirin would be.

"... I am so proud of you Varian. I always have been," he summarized it's core and pulled him back into the hug.

As the world tilted around them Varian leaned in. Surrounded by a steady warmth and tugged under strong arms he finally felt safe.

"I love you, dad," Varian said, as he accepted the embrace, snuggling as close as he could. It soothed an ache Quirin didn't know he had.

"I love you too, son."

He couldn't ask for more. Hanging on to the sweet and kind light, he swore to always be there. However, behind the pride and joy lurked a shadow, for light was a tricky thing to catch. His smile faltered. He couldn't quite put it into words, but something was wrong and it worried him. Upon close inspection, Varian looked tired. Not his usual tired, when staying up all night to tinker with his machines. His bloodshot eyes acted almost as a distraction for the heavy bags below. The exhaustion reached deep, it clawed at his very being, ugly scars and bruises engraved in body and soul as if Varian would fall apart if he'd pressed too hard. Cradling his fingers through the mop of black hair, Quirin eased his touch.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was just the stress from the current events sneaking up.

Reassuringly he rubbed careful circles over Varian's back and then it hit him. From beneath his cloth, he could feel bones, sharp shoulder blades sticking out like thorns and he could sense the rips under Varian's vest pressing against him. Sure Varian always leaned on the skinny side of the spectrum - inherently a beansprout, but never like this!

His gaze fell, and for the first time, he saw the thin and pale child for what it was. Had he been starving? Quirin was going to be sick. The thought alone was laughable. The Princess of Corona was with them, so his son was clearly under royal care.

The urge to shield Varian from the world fought with his rising confusion. What happened? He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Someone would have to answer for that, but for now, he was content simply holding his son. He kissed Varian's head. It was fine. Nothing that couldn't be fixed by a gentle reminder of food and a tad of sleep.

Everything was okay.

.

.

Or not?

AN: This plays during 'Rapunzel's Return'. Lately, I think Quirin needed to hear Varian's 'I love you' as much as Varian needed to hear Quirin's 'I am proud of you'.