AN: Hey, guys. I'm not going to lie: although I truly enjoyed writing this chapter, it was a hard one. And, with what I have planned for this story, the next chapter is going to be even more difficult – only because I love these characters so much, and I honestly feel a little guilty for putting them through such pain. But please, do not fret. Things may look bleak right now, but New Dream will get their happily ever after. I'm excited about where I'm taking this story, and I hope that you will trust me throughout the journey of getting them there.
Again, I can't keep saying thank you enough, for the sweet reviews that you guys leave for me. They are just beyond encouraging and so appreciated. This story would be nothing without you here to read it. All I'm going to say about this chapter is that you should probably start buckling up now, if you did not heed my warning to do so a few chapters ago. Shit is about to go down – and I mean, go down. But, like I've said before, I'm playing the long game with this story, and I hope you are, too.
Today's featured song is Monsters by All Time Low (feat. blackbear and Demi Lovato). I really enjoy this song, and it feels very appropriate for this point in the story, applicable to the headspace of any of our four main characters, whose lives have become so painfully intertwined. Give it a listen, and perhaps you'll agree.
Oh, and don't forget to enjoy the chapter. Well – as much as you can, given the circumstance. *Evil grin*
Chapter 19: I Won't Say 'I Told You So'
Rapunzel throws up late in the evening on the day following the inevitable explosion of her and Eugene's affair.
He'd warned her that this would happen. He'd warned her, that what they'd been doing was wrong, and she hadn't listened. She hadn't listened, because she was young, and naïve, and she'd taken his wisdom – wisdom brought about by years of making mistakes – for granted. She hadn't listened, because the feeling of his hands upon her skin, the luxury of being able to moan into his mouth, and the way that he made her come, every single time, whether it be by mouth, or hand, or other highly adept body part – it was all too much! It was addictive, he was addictive, their pure love and unmatched intimacy far too valuable to her to ever let go of it completely.
She could stand secrets, she could stand sneaking around, if that's what it meant to be with him forever. She would give up his future children, she would give up the ability to love him to the public – to become his wife – if only it meant not losing him. This is not a sacrifice which the princess can take with her typically jovial attitude. This sacrifice goes down like thick molasses, only because she still wants his children, still wants him down on one knee. These are things which she simply cannot help but desire.
This is not a sacrifice which she enjoys, but she would make it. She would make it, for his sake – but mostly for hers, because she is selfish with him, and because losing him is number one on her mental list of 'Things I Cannot Bear.'
What she could not stand, is being away from him, not even for one night – not after recent, traumatic events. She cannot stand going without that precious release which only he can provide – release which she shamefully has found herself craving on so many cold nights with her husband right there in bed with her. She can't help it – she needs it, and often, after the high stress of these last several months. She needs to forget the anxiety of their situation, if only for a little while, and Eugene is so very good at making her forget.
Because if he's making her thighs shake and her voice pant his name mindlessly, completely breathless, her brain can finally go blank from the pleasure, can finally experience a much-needed break, if only for a lust-driven moment. And she could forget, and it would almost feel as though they were their old selves again – ridiculously in love and blissfully ignorant of the raging storm to come – the storm which would pull them under, and pull them apart, holding their heads down until they cannot breathe any longer. But when he is buried inside of her, oh, there is some kind of magic which occurs: he rips her soul right out of her. And if only for a moment, she feels nothing but him. There is no agony, no stress, no unbearable heartbreak. This is a feeling – or more so, a lack of feeling – which she would kill for today.
The prince had once been blissfully ignorant, as well – ignorant to her dark thoughts about another man. But, in a stomach-churning twist of recent events, which she would all but beg Eugene to make her forget right now, her husband is now adeptly aware of the princess's romantic-turned-dangerous inability to stay away from the former thief – just as Eugene had feared would happen from the beginning. But Rapunzel had not listened to his warranted concerns, that pesky desire of hers making it impossible to keep herself from him. But really, she never could. Not before the marriage to Charles, and certainly not after – regardless of the bounty of consequences on her head for this nuclear inability to just stay away.
So, she'd poked and she'd prodded, dragging Eugene right down into that lustful hell with her – when he would've been far better off simply walking away once she was shoved into that white deathtrap of a wedding dress. Eugene had warned Rapunzel that their inability to stay away from one another, despite how much her arranged commitment to Charles killed them, was not wise to indulge. He'd warned her that their incapacity to keep their hands off of one another, while an alluring thing under normal circumstances, would result in them both getting very hurt in this unprecedented one, ripping them up –even more so than the news of the marriage initially had.
And, as usual, Eugene had been completely right: the ultimate liberation of their dirty little secret has not only ripped them apart once more, but has ripped them up in heart – this brutal hurt has taken them between its teeth, chewed them thoroughly, and spit them out.
In the same way that Rapunzel is now spitting out regurgitated lamb stew and rice. Either the trauma of her situation is making her physically ill, or the palace chef has offered her poisoned food. Honestly, either possibility is a better alternative to the lovesickness which has now overrun the princess – perhaps, her puking will actually be able to distract her from it. It feels as though her body is actually rotting from the inside out, dragging her through an unforgiving withdrawal, seemingly warning her of this lack of Eugene-ness. The only thing capable of reviving her dampened spirit is this one, addictive man – a man who, now, she can never truly have. All she can internally scream to her body is, 'I know, I know! I want him, too!' But this is not enough to console her – only he can do that.
The miserable princess had opted to have each of her meals that day brought to her old bedroom, which she's holed herself up in. She is completely determined not to catch so much as a half-hearted glimpse of Charles, nor of her parents.
Frankly, Rapunzel is tired of being angry with the king and queen. She has felt this secret, bottled-up rage toward them for so long now, since the day she'd learned that she would be married, and that they had been the ones to sign the marriage agreement with Maddoline nearly two decades ago. Though her anger is warranted, it is exhausting. It's exhausting not to run into the arms of her parents, and plead with them to help her through this – but the princess's stubbornness has taken her by the reigns, keeping her from seeking them out after yesterday's explosive conversation. Rapunzel understands her parent's desire to protect her – their desire to keep her from the line of fire, which Charles so plainly has directed at her and Eugene. Rapunzel understands their concern – their natural, parental worry – she is grateful for it even, that she now has parents who genuinely love her so much.
But what she does not understand, is how her father could be so irrational as to threaten Eugene's absence. Where would he go? What would he do? He belongs with her – everyone knows that. Everyone has always known that, even her parents. Despite Eugene's troubling past, Frederic and Arianna had taken the former thief into their home, treating him as their own son in that first year together. From day one, there was an ever-present, mutual understanding between the king and queen: Flynn Rider, soon to be known as Eugene Fitzherbert, and the lost princess were a package deal. They knew this when they met the young, wanted man on that balcony for the first time, knowing full well the act of treason which had plagued his name only two days prior, and the heroism which he now bestowed for bringing their precious daughter home.
Frederic has always been what one might politely call an 'overprotective parent,' and this was not the first time that he and Rapunzel had butt heads to attest to this. But the king's threat to remove Eugene from the castle, though understandable from the perspective of a concerned parent, feels like the greatest betrayal of Rapunzel's young life – and she'd only recently learned that her entire life had been a lie, so that's saying a lot. She wants to understand her father, wants to understand his fierce desire to protect her – sometimes, using methods that go beyond what appears completely necessary to do so. The princess understands her father's deeply rooted trauma from losing her as a baby, which still lingers in his heart like an uncured disease. Rapunzel wants to see things from her father's perspective: she wants to understand why he believes so strongly that Eugene being here, will hurt her worse than Eugene not being here, because she knows in her heart which will hurt much worse.
The stress-plagued princess wants to see things from her father's perspective, but she can't. She can't, because she knows that life without Eugene, is infinitely more miserable than life with Eugene, even with Charles making things infinitely more difficult for them. Rapunzel would rather walk around with a Charles-attracting target on her back for the rest of her life, than ever be away from Eugene again. Any woman would take such a risk, if they'd experienced Eugene Fitzherbert – if they knew what it was like to be loved by him.
Speaking of other Eugene-obsessed women, Stalyan, in a sheer coincidence of pathetically bad luck (or, knowing Stalyan, it was the furthest thing from a coincidence), had been the maid to bring Rapunzel's evening meal to the door – the lamb and rice staring back at her now, as the princess kneels on the cold bathroom floor, her stomach churning relentlessly.
Rapunzel, dragged down by the gripping current of her anger and resulting self-isolation, had considered throwing the steaming plate of food back at the Baron's daughter, but decided against doing so – if only for moral reasons. The princess had settled for a furious glare instead, hastily taking the plate and slamming the door behind her. Stalyan had left with a click of her tongue, followed by a snarky comment about Rapunzel 'Getting what was coming to her.'
It was not hard to determine that Stalyan had been the one to tell Charles about the affair – the one to spill Rapunzel's delusional fairytale right into the awaiting mouth of the already-suspicious, jealous prince, who had only needed a subtle push in the right direction to finally explode once and for all. Stalyan was the only person who knew – aside from Cassandra and Lance, and they wouldn't dare breathe a word. No, this was an episode of The Evil Workings of Stalyan: Revenge Edition. If the Baron's daughter couldn't have Eugene, no one could, and this was her special way of very clearly marking her territory.
Thankfully, Rapunzel knows the truth – enough to be utterly furious with Stalyan for this petty act of vengeance, but no longer feel threatened by her – because Rapunzel knows where Eugene's heart, loyalty, and desire lie: they lie with her, and they always will. Stalyan may have won the battle, but she has not won the war, and the princess is prepared to go down with a sword in her hand if she must. She has defeated far worse women than Stalyan, after all.
Rapunzel tries her best to disregard Stalyan's parting comment, tries to ignore the rage seething just beneath her skin, filtering into her bones – her rage towards Stalyan for spilling her precious secret to Charles, her rage towards Charles for his unpredictable, childlike behavior, her rage towards her parents for threatening Eugene's departure, and for the role which they'd played in her marriage – and most of all, her rage towards herself, for allowing herself to be pulled so deep into such a disastrous situation as this, and for pulling Eugene right down with her.
Eugene deserves better, Rapunzel has definitively concluded as she wallows pathetically in her old bedroom, drowning in an unwavering pool of guilt. He deserves far better than this fucked up situation which she had all but begged him into, and she hadn't been able to give it to him. He'd had dreams: dreams of marriage and children, dreams of growing old together. His dreams had shifted from acquiring an island to enjoy alone, surrounded by enormous piles of money, to a life with her. She was his dream, and she'd taken it for granted – she'd thrown it all away! And now, none of those dreams would ever come true for him; at least, not with her. And the thought of him making them come true with someone else, is enough to make the princess want to throw up her dinner all over again.
'I've failed him,' Rapunzel convinces herself now, 'In the worst way that I possibly could have.'
She should have refused to marry Charles – she should have screamed louder, and kicked harder. She should have run away with Eugene when he'd asked her to only two nights ago, or even before then. Was that really only two nights ago, when he'd asked her to run away? It feels as though two lifetimes have passed since that night in the garden. So much has happened since then, so much has gone utterly wrong.
Silently, Rapunzel curses her love for her kingdom, her strong sense of duty to her people. She curses herself for her nerve to put them before Eugene – who, without, she would not be the princess of said kingdom in the first place. If he had never found her, if he had never stolen her crown, that crown would never have rested upon her head, with its burden of responsibility and lifelong commitment to her people. If it weren't for Eugene, Rapunzel would probably still be in her tower, riding out that blissful ignorance.
Eugene would quite literally die for her, and what has she done for him? She has shattered him – shattered herself – she has promised a dream life to him which she can no longer give, not if she stays here in Corona. She has put the needs of her people before him, again and again. And she hates herself for it, yet she does it anyway.
Because that's what a future queen would do. Not because she wants to, but because she must.
Rapunzel's mother, the current queen, has been at the door several times since yesterday, after she and Eugene's dirty laundry had finally been hung to dry, their secrets blowing in the wind, unprotected and liberated. Arianna has begged and pleaded with Rapunzel, in hopes of coaxing her daughter from the bedroom, repeating soft affirmations of 'we love you' and 'please talk to us.' But to no avail – the queen's pleas have fallen upon deaf ears – ears which desire one voice, and one voice only.
The princess feels a cold guilt running over her body each time she hears her mother's gentle, comforting voice on the other side of the door – mostly because she still loves her parents, and loving them is something that she will never not do, regardless of her anger. But, in Rapunzel's mind, they are the ultimate reason as to why she has let Eugene down so badly. If it were not for her parent's agreement to sign the marriage agreement with Maddoline when she was only a baby, none of them would be so desperately in over their heads right now, struggling to tread in the murky waters of jealousy, and rage, and the fear of losing each other once more.
Regardless of the unconditional love which she has for her parents, this does not mean that Rapunzel is not undeniably angry with them, because she is. Right now, Rapunzel does not want to see anyone, does not want to defend her inability to stay away from Eugene – mostly because her defense would be utterly weak and completely pitiful. She is weak, and he makes her that way. He makes her weak in the knees, melancholic for a sense of completeness, for that feeling of being filled up and intertwined with the other half of your soul. And right now, Rapunzel does not want to hear anyone's voice singing its song of judgement and betrayal – except for maybe Eugene's, who would never even think to betray or judge her.
And what has she done to repay him for his unwavering devotion? Absolutely nothing.
Actually, Rapunzel is dying to see him. She would give anything right now, after the nerve-wracking events of the last several days, to feel Eugene's arms wrapped protectively around her, to sneak to his bedroom, to feel him inside, his low voice begging her to come for him – no. They'd reluctantly agreed to stay away from one another, at least for a few days, until the dust settles – if the dust ever settles.
Rapunzel isn't sure that it will.
So instead, she has made her former bedroom a new-and-improved tower of sorts, entrapping herself there and refusing to proceed beyond its door, terrified of what – or who – will be there if she ever finds the courage to open it. Rapunzel has holed herself up in this cheery, yellow-walled prison, the nostalgic memories of that first year with Eugene here in the castle staring back at her – making fun of her. These memories are splattered across the walls in intricate, little paintings: paintings in which they look so happy together, that Rapunzel actually feels stupid for ever being that content.
It is almost painful to be in this room again, to reflect upon the beautiful time that she'd had before the marriage to Charles, showcased by paintings which emulate the peace that her relationship with Eugene had brought her, and the joy of her newfound relationship with her parents. If she could, Rapunzel would somehow transport herself into these paintings, living safely with Eugene there forever, in a blissful place where her husband could not dream of touching her – in a place where he would simply cease to exist. Realistically, Rapunzel cannot hide from Charles for the rest of her life – she knows that.
But it doesn't hurt to try.
There has already been a whirlwind of whispers circling the castle, procured by gossip-obsessed maids, whose always-perked ears had heard Charles's furious screams from far down the hallway. The maids had seen the vase shattered on the floor of the small sitting room where the Maddolineon prince and Eugene Fitzherbert had angrily sparred over the princess, and had noticed the little dots of blood from Eugene's mouth stained there on the marble. There was someone who had to clean up their mess, and someone who had to tell of their mess, and someone who had to start the toxic vortex of gossip which so eloquently travels around the castle. And in time, the kingdom would be sucked into the vortex, too.
Rapunzel can hear the harsh truth of the gossip now: 'The princess has not been faithful to her husband.' 'Eugene was there. He and Prince Charles got into a fight again. It was all her fault.' 'The princess is having an affair.'
She will no longer go down in history as the lost princess – no, she will be known as the princess who could've had a prince, but couldn't leave well enough alone. It's only a matter of time before the entire kingdom knows about Rapunzel's indiscretion – her inability, as the maids would so bluntly say, to 'keep her legs closed.'
But, with a man like Eugene to love you, who would be faithful? Who would keep their legs closed? The gossiping maids understood. They were envious, even, of Princess Rapunzel's opportunity to choose between a prince – a foreign man with regal status and more money than what could be spent in a single lifetime – and Eugene Fitzherbert, who is ever-presently witty, charming, sexy in that 'I was a bad boy, but I'll change for you' kind of way, and hands down the most gorgeous man that has ever stepped foot into this castle. The maids, they understood Rapunzel's predicament, in the way that only a fellow, jealous young woman could. They understood her inability to stay away from Eugene – because if he belonged to one of them, they wouldn't be able to stay away from him, either – not even with a wealthy prince on the line.
From the very moment of Rapunzel and Eugene's unexpected but joyful arrival over a year ago, plenty of the castle staff had placed their longing stares upon Eugene, watching him closely, their lustful looks wordlessly begging him to trip up – begging him to step away from the princess for just long enough for one of them to grasp his attention. They were never able to, obviously, as everyone quickly learned that Eugene Fitzherbert's attention had one beholder, and one beholder only. This, of course, does not stop the scandal-loving maids from shouting Princess Rapunzel's current, unfortunately adulterous predicament around the castle grounds in the form of whispers, giggles, and generally crude comments. If anything, jealousy only fuels a maid's incapacity to keep a secret.
And the maids were right. This is her weakness, Rapunzel concludes: her inability to keep her legs closed, must be her weakness. Eugene is her weakness. If she'd just been able to do that, if she'd been strong enough to stay away from Eugene, she would not have drug them both into such a situation as this – a situation which he does not deserve to be a part of. Staying away from him, in crestfallen hindsight, would have protected him, and she'd let him down. All that he's ever done is protect her, and she couldn't even return the simple favor. Then again, things are even less simple than they were before.
What Charles had so bluntly stated, is true: Rapunzel is a whore, and the worst kind, at that – because she pretends that she is not. What he'd said about her was true, what Gothel had said about her was true: she is too naïve to be here, because she had thought that her dreams with Eugene would actually come true. Gothel was wrong for accusing Rapunzel of being demented about Eugene liking her: God, he liked her – no, he loves her, in a way that she never could have predicted, in a way that she could never properly thank him for. He'd never left her in the snap of her fingers, had never lied to her so guiltlessly, as Gothel had predicted that he would. But if the manipulative woman had been right about one thing, it was Rapunzel's naivety that her and Eugene would actually find their happily ever after.
And, Rapunzel decides, this makes her every kind of naïve that a person could possibly be.
Studying the many paintings on the walls of her former bedroom, Rapunzel wonders what her life would be like now if she hadn't lost her virginity to Eugene – if she'd walked away, if she'd given Charles a real chance, if she'd truly made an effort in her fledgling marriage. If she hadn't given all of herself to the man that she loves. Could she really have saved Eugene from this hurt, if she would've done the right and noble thing? If she simply would have shut up, accepted her fate, and fulfilled her duty as a wife, as a future monarch of this kingdom? Could she have protected him?
She would've felt this raging guilt either way, no matter what she did – at least she'd been able to ride out that guilt with Eugene, Rapunzel concludes. The princess knows that, even if Eugene had left the castle, even if they'd tried to leave good enough alone, she would've found him again. She would've found him, and they would've done the same scandalous, deceitful thing which they'd done inside this castle. They would've snuck around, they would've made friends with the shadows, they would've risked themselves – all to catch a glimpse of one another, all for the brush of a hand, all for panted reassurances of 'I love you' in the dark. She would've snuck out, or he would've snuck in. Either way, they would've had one another, the love-laced intimacy helping them to forget the painful unfairness of their circumstance.
And yeah, Rapunzel would give just about anything to have him helping her forget right now.
The princess is beginning to feel positively dizzy – dizzy at the thought of Eugene, and even dizzier at the thought of being away from him any more than she already has been. Perhaps her sickness has to do with her unsatisfactory dinner – or more accurately, the loss of her dinner – or the inevitable, impending doom of facing her parents and her husband.
She would rather throw up her dinner a thousand times than face her jealous, hysterical husband. Her parents, she could handle. Charles, she would give anything to never see again.
There is a sudden, pert knock on the door, dragging Rapunzel from her sullen train of thought, which has been leading her nowhere constructive all day, holed up in her old bedroom in this depressing isolation – an isolation so reminiscent of her first eighteen years of life. Her destination is somewhere between Incurable Self-Pity and Feeling So Guilty For Letting Eugene Down That I Actually Feel Sick.
'Probably just Mom again,' Rapunzel considers, that far-too-familiar guilt causing an ache to run through her bones. 'I really shouldn't remain angry with her, or even with Dad. They are my parents, after all, and they love me. They were simply doing what they thought they should to protect me. I should talk to her. I feel so alone right now, and… and Mom always knows what to say to make me feel better, and her arms are always so warm. Yes. Just open the door, and everything will be okay, and –'
And the queen is not standing there.
"C-Charles." Rapunzel stutters, surprised to see her husband, immediately regretting pulling the door open. Her fingers are instantly white-knuckled around the door handle at the sight of his unpleasant face.
He looks like an absolute trainwreck, similar to the one currently crash-and-burning in the princess's head: clothes rumpled, face unshaven and donning a five o'clock shadow – all of which are a completely unusual phenomenon for the perpetually put-together prince. Along his strong jaw is a nasty, purpling bruise: an imprint donning the unforgiving shape of Eugene's knuckles.
Rapunzel feels a swell of pride at that, even though she knows that it's wrong to indulge in another person being hurt. The rueful princess can't help but feel as though Charles thoroughly deserved that well-aimed punch – mostly for what he'd said to her the other night, even if the brutal slur that he'd shot at her does hold some truth.
"What're you doing here?" Rapunzel tries to sound firm and uninviting, but her voice is released in a strangled twist of words instead – timid and weak, as though she were afraid of his presence.
Charles smiles in a mystifying manner, feeling a little rueful himself, stepping past his stunned wife and strolling casually into the cheerfully painted bedroom.
"Oh, just paying a visit to my lovely wife."
The unreadable prince clasps his hands behind his back in that always-regal way of his, a complete contrast to his brazen appearance, quietly studying the delicate paintings on the wall beside them. This wall in particular, showcases one of Rapunzel's favorite paintings, which Eugene had so graciously helped her with: an extensive mural of their very first, very significant adventure together. The once utterly plain, once yellow wall, is now covered completely with images of the Snuggly Duckling, the bursting dam, and her personal favorite: the night on the boat beneath the lanterns.
She and Eugene, his lips mere inches from hers, drawing her in, pulling her close – the moment that he trapped her heart in the way that only Eugene could.
"Mmm." Charles taps a finger to the intricate lantern scene, pressing the digit lightly to the wall.
To have her husband touching such an intimate moment… it almost makes Rapunzel feel violated.
"Pretty. You're very good at that."
This is what Rapunzel doesn't like most about Charles: he is unpredictable. He is pleasant one moment, and the next, completely hysterical. For this reason, the princess does not feel comfortable in her own husband's presence – for his reason, she cannot bring herself to trust him, despite his casual, light demeanor.
"Thank you." Rapunzel says simply, trying her best to keep a straight face, desperate not to give Charles the satisfaction of making her uncomfortable. "May I ask why you're here? Or are you really just here to compliment my paintings? Because there's plenty of others just like that one, if you'd like to see."
Charles chuckles, wagging a finger at her before glancing again at the intimate, painted moment of her and Eugene.
"Alright, you caught me, Princess. I'm not just here to pay you a little visit." The prince edges forward, slinking closer to a clearly on-guard Rapunzel. "You're quite smart, you know. Have I ever told you that?"
Rapunzel stays quiet, watching Charles closely as he circles around her, stopping just before his wife, again clasping his hands behind his back regally.
"I would like you to return to our bedroom with me, and sleep where you belong. Now."
She smiles. Rapunzel smiles, because his change of mood was, if anything, imminent and entirely predictable.
"No, thank you."
And with that, Rapunzel turns away from him, swiftly moving toward the balcony.
The princess hears his footsteps hastily following her as she throws open the French doors, stepping into the cool evening air. The sun won't be setting for a little while longer, though there is a brilliant, golden glow reflecting upon the harbor, making the water glitter in hues of marigold. If Eugene were here, Rapunzel would note aloud how beautiful the scene is, and he would note how beautiful she looks in comparison.
But he is not, so she says nothing.
"It wasn't a question, Rapunzel." Charles huffs from behind her.
But she ignores him for a moment, making her way to the balcony's edge, studying the kingdom below as though it were the most fascinating thing, trying her best to appear nonchalant – trying her best not to think about everything that she has to lose, now that Eugene has crossed her mind again.
"Haven't we been over this before? Because I think you've forgotten the part where I don't take orders from you."
Rapunzel turns back to her equally irate husband, looking to where Charles is now holding onto the railing with white knuckles and gritted teeth, clearly trying his very best to remain calm.
"You may be my husband, Charles. And you may think that should mean something to me, because it's the right thing to do. But the ring, the marriage, it doesn't mean anything if I don't want it –"
"Oh, do you hear yourself, Rapunzel?" Charles finally cries, having been bursting with the anxiety of wanting to confront his cheating wife all day, throwing his hands into the chilly evening air in a dramatic manner. "You sound just like him! He has you completely distracted from your duty, completely brainwashed! Don't you see? Don't you see what he's done to you?!"
'What he's done to me?' Rapunzel silently thinks to herself, completely enraged by the suggestion that Eugene has ruined her. 'Eugene has done a lot of things to me, and they all felt really good.'
That's what Rapunzel wants to say. But she doesn't, for fear of sending her husband straight into the metaphorical deep end, and dragging her right down with him.
"I sound like him because it's the truth, Charles. You don't know me! The person that you think I am… this perfect princess, this dutiful wife… I can't be her! Your basis for being so angry with me, for being so angry with him, is placed upon completely faulty ground! I have no obligation to you, and you do not have one to me! I had an obligation to someone before I was promised to you without my consent! And I really don't understand why you're so –"
Charles rushes forward, suddenly taking Rapunzel's hands into his own white-knuckled ones, making her cringe, delusionally choosing to ignore her blunt confession.
"Because I love you, Rapunzel! I have told you this before. I care because I love you, and I want you to want to be with me! I've never felt this way about a woman before! I-I've never felt this longing for someone. I've never wanted someone who didn't fall at my feet, and it's driving me insane!"
The disheartened prince pulls away with a sudden jerk, quickly dropping her hands as though they've burned his palms, narrowing his piercing sapphire eyes with a freshly lit, fiery rage.
"But all you've done is reject me. Not only have you rejected me, but you disappear off to act like a little harlot with that… that thief of yours! You should be ashamed –"
"He's not a –"
Charles presses on, desperate to voice his burning jealousy once more – a jealousy which lingers and prods at him, because dammit, his wife should belong to him, and to him alone. Not another man, and surely not to a man like Eugene Fitzherbert, who is clearly capable of taking whatever he wants from the most unsuspecting person!
"He is a thief, Rapunzel. He is a lowlife thief, who pretended to change for you, so that he could get into this castle and steal. Steal your virtue, steal your innocence, steal your value from your future husband. How can't you see that? How can't you see that he's doing what he does best?" The emotional prince shakes his head, blowing hot air from his nose. "Do you think that I don't know what led him to you in the first place? Do you think that I don't know about the crown? I know who he is and I know what he wants from you. It's the same thing that every man wants from a woman!"
Rapunzel takes an offended step back, bumping against the railing, knowing exactly what Charles is implying: he's implying that Eugene only wants her for sex, which Rapunzel knows is completely untrue. Eugene would love her, Eugene would stay, even if he'd never get to touch her again.
Regardless of what she knows, the princess is entirely baffled by her husband's unique ability to replicate feelings which Gothel had once instilled in her: feelings of insecurity and lack of personal value – feelings which she has fought like hell to escape since leaving her tower.
"He didn't steal those things from me, Charles. I gave them to him. I gave them to him, because he was going to be my husband. Not you."
Charles sniffs loudly, turning away for a moment, studying the kingdom below before turning back to her sharply.
"Well, then… you are not as smart as I thought you to be, Rapunzel, if you truly thought that someone like you would be allowed to marry someone like him." The prince points a finger to his own chest, his eyes glinting darkly with possessiveness. "I was always intended to be your husband. You understand that, don't you? I have spent my entire life wondering if I would ever meet you, knowing about the arrangement. Knowing that someday, if you were ever found, I would marry you. And I came here, I left my life in my own country, for you! Only to find you with… with him."
Crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, Rapunzel wonders how someone like Charles has the nerve to question the morality of someone like Eugene: a perfect man who is sweet, caring, and has done nothing but love her unconditionally and change for her – despite the pain which he's endured by staying. Eugene had completely abandoned the only life he'd ever known, the identity he'd used to mask a lonely childhood, for her. He didn't have to do that, didn't have to revert back to Eugene Fitzherbert. But he had, for her, even though it had only led him on a path of even deeper heartbreak than he'd started with. And this fact, this genuine sacrifice, causes the 'sacrifice' which Charles is trying to defend now, to fall apart.
"You're just jealous of him. That's why you feel the need to insult him, to provoke him." Rapunzel shakes her head, recalling her husband's words from the other night. 'You're a whore, you're a whore, you're a whore.' Why you feel the need to insult me."
"Why on earth would I be jealous of someone like – "
"Because you will never be half the man Eugene is." Rapunzel musters all of the courage that she can, knowing full well that she's about to open a very ugly can of worms which she will never be able to close again. "Because I lost my virginity to him, and I'm glad that I did. Because I let him take my 'value' from you. And I will never let you so much as touch me."
The slap is sudden, unexpected, and leaves an immediate red welt on her soft, unknowing cheek. Rapunzel instinctually reaches up to hold her stinging face. She feels rather dizzy all of a sudden, far dizzier than before, swaying there in the night air with her husband looking over her, raging distain in his eyes. The stunned princess cradles her wounded cheek for only a moment before her eyes roll back, and she collapses to the balcony floor.
Eugene is sitting on the ledge of an exterior, stone hallway, which connects two obscure wings of the castle, receiving little to no activity. The airy, eerily quiet tunnel is a perfect place to observe the bustling kingdom below in the summer months, though a bit chilly for January. Even so, Eugene does not feel as though he deserves the warmth of his fireplace today, so he has opted to participate in his own little pity party, right here in the evening cold.
The only thing keeping him relatively warm as he presses his back to the stone castle wall, is the thought of Rapunzel's pretty face, and the cigarette latched between his lips as he sucks the smoke into his lungs.
The cigarette doesn't taste like it used to – not when he has Rapunzel's lips to compare it to. He actually feels a little guilty for smoking, breaking his year-long hiatus from the unhealthy habit. But then again, Eugene has a lot to feel guilty about today. So, instead, he tries to focus on the golden sunbeams reflecting upon the harbor, and the way that Rapunzel would likely comment on how beautiful the scene before him is, and not his insatiable guilt.
Eugene had given up smoking soon after he'd moved into the castle, for her. Not because she'd forced him to – once, Rapunzel had actually asked if she could try a cigarette for herself, though he'd chuckled and told her that he wouldn't be responsible for the princess picking up such an undignified habit. But, just as she always does, Rapunzel had broken him down with her big, green eyes, adorable curiousness, and innocent smile. She was always so eager to learn new things, always so desperate for him to be the one to teach them to her, and this is Eugene's weakness. She is his weakness – teaching her all of the things that she shouldn't know, is his weakness. His guiltiest pleasure, perhaps.
So, Eugene had allowed her a very small, very short pull from his cigarette. She'd coughed and coughed, and he'd laughed, and she'd slapped his shoulder, chiding him for actually letting her try such a horrible, bad-tasting thing.
He quit a week later.
He quit, because smoking had become more of a nervous tic than a cool habit – and he didn't need to try to be cool around her, anyway. Rapunzel had coaxed poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert right out of him, had crushed the charismatic Flynn Rider persona in her sweet, unknowing hands. She didn't want him to be cool. She just wanted him to be himself, in a unique way that no one had ever yearned for the real him before. He liked it.
So, Eugene had traded cool, unbothered, and un-tie-down-able, for goofy and charming, lovesick and affectionate. He traded Flynn Rider for the parts of him that he never really liked before she liked them – the parts of him which he had once deemed weak and un-useful in his chosen line of work. Flynn would still come out to play from time to time, in the form of a crude joke or sarcastic comment.
For the most part, though, Eugene actually kind of liked not having to put on a show for her, not having to use the smolder to get what he wanted. It was all so simple with Rapunzel, in a way that Eugene had never experienced before, because he didn't have to pretend to be anything. There were no tricks up his sleeve to get her in bed – she just wanted him. There was no bitter cycle of unhealthy communication, no toxic timeline of on-and-off-again failures, no one-night-stands which lacked feeling or strings. Everything with her was highly charged – not in the destructive way, but in the 'I can't get enough of you' kind of way. He simply adored her each day, and for Rapunzel, that was always more than enough. Though Eugene had struggled a little with his sudden loss of identity in the first few weeks of living in the castle, giving up Flynn Rider was much better than the thought of ever giving up her.
Now, it feels as though he must give her up, whether he likes it or not, if only because Eugene honestly can't see any other way out of this shitstorm of a situation – except for convincing Rapunzel to run away, which he knows she won't do. Not when her sense of duty to her kingdom is so secure, and their future is suddenly so… not secure.
Eugene considers Lance's words from many weeks ago, when he and Rapunzel's affair had first began. He recalls his childhood best friend's not-so-subtle pleas for Eugene to leave the castle with him, resurrecting their life of crime together. Eugene considers his pathetically selfish plea in the garden for Rapunzel to run away with him, just the other night. There are so many quick-fixing, yet ultimately unsatisfying avenues in which Eugene could take to free himself from this disastrous situation, and not a single one of them looks appealing – not unless she is at the end of it.
But he knows they can't do that, can't run away together. Even if Rapunzel is heartbreakingly furious with her parents right now, she still loves them deeply, and she wouldn't leave – not after just gaining them barely a year and a half ago. And he can't expect her to leave her beloved parents, her adoring subjects – wouldn't expect her to. Her duty is too great, has too strong a hold on her, for Rapunzel to abandon her kingdom now. If she were a selfish person, perhaps she would consider the notion of running away with him more seriously. But she is not.
It's something that Eugene usually adores about her: her willingness to love and help others, never expecting anything in return. There aren't many people like that anymore. That atypical love of hers – it's her greatest attribute, and it's what will make her a kickass queen someday. But right now, wallowing in the guilt and agony of being away from her like this, Rapunzel's selflessness is not a virtue which he can appreciate. Not today.
Sitting here on the uncomfortable stone ledge, Eugene is trying his honest-to-goodness best to find the good in this situation – to find the good in his life – but the good things in life have always been hard for him to find, what with the unlucky hand of cards that he'd been dealt. He didn't start looking from that sickeningly positive, happy-go-lucky perspective until he met Rapunzel, and that undeniable sunshine of hers rubbed right off on him in warm, inviting beams.
How is he supposed to see the good in life without her? She quite literally is the good. She's his best, and without her, he can't possibly not be his worst. For goodness sake, he's already smoking again! Eugene can feel himself slipping, and he doesn't want to, but he also doesn't know how to stop – not without her here to pull him back up again, to force him to see the sun.
Alone, Eugene has convinced himself, there is no good in him. Without Rapunzel giving him a reason to be good, he has no redeeming qualities. He is not a 'good' man – not when he is without her. Without her, he makes all of the wrong decisions, and makes a mess of his life, and knows only one thing: selfishness. Without her, he is the opposite of everything that she believes in, everything that she lives for. He knows that he doesn't want to be that person anymore. But he has no course of direction without Rapunzel, no idea how to be anyone else but the person that he once was.
Without her, it would be so easy to be Flynn Rider again. It really would. Without her, it would be oh-so-simple to slip back into that role, and never look back.
Honestly, Eugene had really never given a shit about what happened to him, about how he treated his body – not until he'd met her. Before her, his body wasn't the 'temple' that everyone so often claimed that it was. Eugene took care of himself, sure – he'd always had a bit of a fascination with proper grooming and hygiene. He was egotistical and vain. But he'd smoked, and he'd regularly drank men twice his size under the table, and he'd had more one-night-stands than he would proudly admit. But, after falling so desperately in love with Rapunzel, Eugene had decided that he wanted to live for as long as he possibly could. He wanted to grow very, very old with her.
He wanted to be good for her. Because she is good, and she deserves good.
So, he tried not to smoke, and he reeled back his drinking, which was saved mostly for regal events and parties, as well as the occasional visit to the Snuggly Duckling, when Rapunzel insisted upon visiting her burly friends. Even then, Eugene wouldn't allow himself to get past happily buzzed, as he typically had to chase a barefoot princess through the castle halls, keeping her out of trouble as he'd once promised her parents that he would.
Really, it often felt as though he were stonecold sober, and she were the drunk one. Her high-energy personality made Rapunzel appear as such after the fancy balls that they were often expected to attend, but Eugene wouldn't want her any other way – he wanted his overly-curious, highly-sensitive, energetic princess over any other woman that he could choose from. He surely wasn't having one-night-stands anymore, unless you count all of the times in which Rapunzel had snuck to his bedroom – which was a lot of times. In a year's time, Rapunzel had gotten as good at slinking through the shadows as Eugene was, though he had years of perfecting the art of tactical stealth on his side, and she had eighteen years trapped in a tower. Her ability to so quickly pick up on everything that he taught her, never failed to surprise him.
Regardless, Eugene has given up so much of what he'd known before her, in the hopes of a future with Rapunzel – general intoxication, and thievery, and the four-step plan that he often facilitated when it came to attractive women: introduce yourself, smolder, bed, leave before sun-up. He happily gave these things up, because he'd genuinely been desperate to be good enough for Rapunzel – to be a good, respectable man for a princess as perfect as her. Really, he just wanted to make her happy, wanted to see the way that her face used to light up so frequently, before everything changed. And if they ended up in bed by the end of the night, drawing little moans from each other, well… that was just a bonus. But it wasn't why he wanted her. Eugene wanted her – wants her – because she is the only reason that he has ever been good.
He'd been told his entire life that he would never amount to anything. And here he is, drawing his value against a girl so undeniably perfect that he couldn't measure up if he tried – especially not without her.
In all honesty, Eugene has never missed any of the things that he'd given up when he'd moved into the castle. Because, back then, he'd had her to replace any bad habit that he might miss. Being around her all in itself was a little like being intoxicated, because his heart beat too fast, and he got incredibly lightheaded and giddy, and his stomach burst into these ever-present butterflies which he couldn't squash if he wanted to.
He didn't need to steal anything anymore, because she came with this package deal of that now-silly crown which he'd once stolen, leading him to something far more valuable, leading him right to her. He didn't love her because she was a princess, but it was surely a perk of circumstance – a stroke of good luck which he surely didn't deserve. And the smolder… well, that never worked on her, anyway. But it didn't matter, because she was highly adept to every brush of the hand, every hidden, dark look that he gave her over dinner or at a party. Every look that whispered, 'Soon?' 'Soon.' Soon we'll be alone. Eugene had never needed to do anything special to get her to want him. She just did, and he liked it that way.
So, in real time, Eugene takes a drawn-out pull from the cigarette – only because the possibility of growing old with her isn't looking so promising anymore, and because he is not good. Not without her.
"Eugene."
A soft voice lingers in the perfectly silent air behind him, causing Eugene to jump in his slightly uncomfortable sitting position. He quickly turns from his spot on the ledge, where he's curled his knees up to his chest in attempts to keep himself warm.
Arianna.
Eugene quickly blows the smoke from his lips and moves to put out the cigarette, but the queen waves her hand dismissively.
"It's okay." She says quietly, almost timidly, toeing toward him tentatively. "We all have our vices, don't we?"
Eugene sits back, wondering idly what kind of vices the queen could possibly have, as she's always been so proper and kind – much more proper than he. But, Eugene supposes, she's had a lot of time to practice. Regardless, he doesn't put the cigarette out, but doesn't bring it to his lips, either – he just lets it hang in the air, watching the thin, steady stream of smoke waft from it.
"Are you okay? It's quite cold for you to be out here all alone." Arianna comments, absently rubbing her arms.
Eugene sighs deeply, really not sure how to answer this very loaded, very silly question.
Of course he's not okay. The only thing that he's ever truly cared about has been ripped away from him, shoved into a wedding dress, and committed to a man who wouldn't deserve her if they were the last two people on this planet. Eugene has allowed the love of his life to fall into a deep, unfixable pain, has allowed this affair of theirs to blow up into a million pieces – has allowed Rapunzel to be the collateral damage, and didn't do enough to protect her. And Eugene is angry with just about everyone for that: the king and queen, Charles. Himself.
Mostly angry with himself.
Eugene does feel angry with Arianna and Frederic, he cannot deny that. But it's much more difficult to remain angry with someone, when they clearly feel horribly guilty for what they've done, and when they are desperate to apologize – when they didn't fully understand the future ramifications of their decision at the time of making it. His own guilt is eating him alive, so Eugene can relate to the guilt which a mother as loving as Arianna must be feeling right now: guilt for unknowingly, unmeaningly, blowing up her daughter's life. He even understands Frederic's concern-inspired threat to potentially send him away – if Eugene had a daughter of his own to protect, he would probably do the same thing.
He understands. Really, he does. But that doesn't mean that he's not utterly annoyed, because he is. Eugene has had four months to allow his anger to bubble and boil just beneath the skin, slowly replacing his blood with jealousy and the anxiety of losing her for good – and recent events have only brought that anger right to the surface.
"Honestly? I've been a hell of a lot better."
Like when he was being drug to the gallows, for example. Eugene would take losing his neck over the harsh pain of losing Rapunzel any day.
"I know, Eugene. I'm so sorry for… putting the two of you in this…" The queen shakes her head, looking to her feet, wanting to say, 'shitshow.' But, always polite, she settles for 'terrible situation.'
Well, that's one way of looking at it.
Eugene looks away, studying the kingdom below for a long moment, running a hand through his hair, wanting to be careful with his words.
"You couldn't have known. You didn't know she would meet me. When you signed that marriage agreement…"
When you signed her life away to a man who she wouldn't even get the chance to know without her permission.
Eugene sighs deeply, not wanting to word his frustration in a way which will destroy the special relationship that he has with the queen. Although he's angry with her, he doesn't particularly want to make Arianna feel bad, either. She's the closest thing to a mother that Eugene has ever had, and their relationship has always had a fond kind of mutual affection present.
Regardless of his past, Arianna had always treated Eugene with the same refreshing bout of redemption that Rapunzel did – the two of them believed in him, long before he believed in himself. If it weren't for Arianna's unique brand of persuasion, Frederic probably would have had Eugene's neck around a rope the moment they'd gotten Rapunzel back. Arianna, even after he was hired as a guard, would often encourage Eugene to become well-versed in the workings of consort-ship, encouraging him to attend etiquette lessons so that he would be a suitable husband to a princess one day. To keep his mind sharp, the queen would speak with him in other languages which no one but the two of them fully understood – Arianna, because of her extensive schooling to become queen, and Eugene, because of his grand adventures around the world. It was fun, this lighthearted dynamic of their relationship.
It was – before shit hit the fan, and before Charles showed up.
"You couldn't have known."
Eugene finishes simply, taking a long, stressed drag from the cigarette, blowing it away from them so that the queen won't smell like smoke.
"Yes, but I still feel horribly guilty." Arianna smiles pertly, though the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, I was wondering if… I mean, have you been with Rapunzel today? Or is she… is she hiding in your room? And don't worry, its okay if she is. I won't be angry."
Pushing his eyebrows together, Eugene shuffles on the ledge, allowing his legs to hang on either side of it. Rapunzel hadn't been in his room at all last night, or today, although he definitely wishes that she was.
"Why would I be with her? I'm an adulterous, bad influence, remember? I probably should have my bags packed by now, right?"
Eugene wouldn't normally talk to a royal family member with such a snarky tone. Flynn Rider, on the other hand, would – but Eugene wouldn't. Regardless, Eugene and Arianna had grown incredibly close in the year that he and Rapunzel had spent together in the castle – close enough to be incredibly pissed off with both the king and queen for the role in which they'd played in this shitstorm of theirs, and close enough to feel comfortable showing it.
"Eugene…" Arianna places a delicate hand to her forehead, wincing, as if a sharp pang has suddenly occurred there.
"I'm sorry you feel that way. That's not how Fred and I see you. We don't want you to go. Frederic is just… you know how he gets. He's afraid of… history repeating itself. We're both very worried about Rapunzel. She hasn't been herself, and you know it."
The queen sighs, edging closer to him.
"But you, you're like… you're like a son to us, and we… we're just trying our best to protect Rapunzel from all of this. We've never navigated this situation before. Actually, the reason that I came looking for you, is because we can't… we can't find her anywhere. We haven't seen her all afternoon. Normally, she joins us for lunch, but she didn't show. Neither did Charles. And when neither of them showed up for dinner, I just thought… well, I thought that, maybe, she would be hiding with you, after what… after what was said yesterday. So, I came looking and –"
Eugene pushes his eyebrows together, flicking the end of the cigarette between his fingers, absently watching the ashes flutter to the ground on the other side of the stone wall, his brain not completely capable of processing the queen's rambling words after the tension-filled events of the last several days. He goes to bring the cigarette to his lips once more, but stops halfway to his mouth, letting the cigarette hang there in the air as Arianna's warranted concern finally registers in his clouded mind.
"Wait. What do you mean you can't find her?"
Eugene turns back to Arianna, studying the queen closely as she wrings her hands in nervous circles.
"I mean, we can't… if she's not with you, then... I don't know where else –"
"She's missing. The lost princess is missing. And you didn't think to lead with that?"
Eugene could scream. He could let out all of this anger, all of this stress, all of this longing for what he cannot have from his lungs, once and for all. But that would be impolite, especially in the presence of the growingly distressed queen, so he decides against it.
"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't… I didn't think… and with everything that happened yesterday, I… I understand that she needs her space right now, that she's angry with us. But we checked her room, the library, the gardens, her old bedroom… we've looked everywhere. She's just not there. Frederic and I have assigned a small search party from the guard, just in case, but I just… I honestly assumed that she would've been with you. Or holed up in your room, perhaps. That's why I wasn't incredibly worried… until now."
Arianna pivots in place, hastily moving her head from side to side, as if expecting Rapunzel to magically appear at the end of the hallway and explain away where she's been all day, in that cheery, contagiously energetic way of hers.
Again, Eugene shifts his gaze to the kingdom below, contemplating the queen's words, a little too in shock to yet be in full Hysterical Boyfriend Mode. He notices an impressive ship sailing away from the kingdom, steadily taking its departure from the docks, though not even halfway across the length of the marigold harbor. Eugene notes how the slowly setting sun has painted the water a beautiful gold color which is so reminiscent of Rapunzel's once long, golden hair.
The ship sports massive, billowing sails, and a single, red flag. The flag is large, fluttering in the wind proudly – stamped on the flag, there is a seal which dons a black, cursive M. This particular seal looks familiar, somehow, but Eugene can't immediately put his finger on the reason why.
M. M, M, M. Marigold, Maybe, Madly in love, Maddoline…
Maddoline.
The prince of Maddoline.
Charles's face flashes in Eugene's mind, the prince's voice replaying hauntingly, and Eugene's stomach drops to his feet like a heavy sack of bricks –
'Your ignorance, your ego, your… your stupidity. Your inability to let go of her. It's all your downfall. You let your jealousy over her blind you to what's really happening here. And when you finally come to terms with what's going on… it'll be. Too. Late.'
Eugene slowly rises from the ledge, putting out the cigarette on the stone, his legs suddenly feeling a little like gelatin. His breathing hitches, a steady stream of bile threatening its way up his throat, and he barely trusts his voice enough to use it, but he knows that he has to.
"Arianna… I don't think she's in the castle."
The queen's soft, green eyes narrow in puzzlement – eyes so reminiscent of her daughter's spirited ones – her head shaking slightly in worried confusion.
"W-what do you mean? Where else could she be?"
Arianna reaches out to grasp Eugene's forearm when he doesn't answer right away, the anxiety of eighteen years without Rapunzel flashing across her face instantly.
"Eugene… what do you mean she's not here?"
Eugene wants to be wrong, would give anything – would give his own life – to be wrong. But he knows that seal, recognizes that seal as it departs from the Kingdom of Corona. He's seen that seal a thousand times: it's the Maddolineon seal – a darkly scrawled M, surrounded by a circular design of twisted vines and leaves. Eugene would know, because he'd spent several months in Maddoline when he was still playing the role of Flynn Rider, terrorizing the local population by way of petty crimes with the help of the Stabbington brothers.
Eugene wants to be wrong. He would give anything to be wrong. But he knows, can feel it deep in his bones, without a reasonable doubt: she is on that boat.
"Fuck." This is all Eugene can say, all he can manage to breathe out. If he were smart, he'd already be running, but he's not. He's glued to the floor, his feet ultimately forgetting their purpose. "Fuck."
Because the love of his life is on that boat.