Killing Me Slowly: A Tangled Fanfiction

by keeparecordofthewreckage

Living in Corona, Eugene and Rapunzel are more in love than ever. One year post-tower, they have navigated trauma, grief, new relationships, and what it means to have a real family. But is their love strong enough to withhold the restraints of an unexpected arranged marriage? (Rated M for references to prior trauma, sexual intimacy, and language). This is a currently active story!

24. Chapter 23

AN: So, we meet again, my lovely readers! Here I am, offering to you yet another installment of Killing Me Slowly. I'm so, so incredibly sorry for the wait on this chapter. I've been feeling really overwhelmed with school, and work, and life lately, and… yeah. It's just been a lot. But I'm back!

I've also started a one-shot collection – which is directly connected to this story – called 'The Lost Year,' which basically explores different situations which New Dream may have found themselves in during that first year spent together: the year which was basically skipped over for the purpose of the plot here. I feel that these one-shots really add a lot of depth to this story, and to New Dream's relationship, so consider checking it out if you have the time! Regardless, please don't worry. I haven't forgotten about Killing Me Slowly, and I never will. School has been very overwhelming lately, but this is my favorite project to work on in the entire world. It's my stress relief, and I need to make time for this form of self-care, and I will try harder to update more frequently again (I have a bit of writer's guilt for not updating in over a month, if you can't tell).

Our featured song today is Savin' Me by Nickelback. Okay, I know that there are some mixed opinions on this band in our contemporary society, but I grew up listening to them constantly. They make me think of my dad, and often, of New Dream. So, here we are. The song Savin' Me just fit really well with the current situation of the story (and even with the events of the movie, honestly). There are quite a few Nickelback songs that just feel very… Eugene Fitzherbert to me, like How You Remind Me, for example. That song has him written all over it.

I apologize for the long author's note today. I know that you guys have probably been waiting for this chapter, and again, I'm sorry. This time around, we'll get to hear from a character who we haven't directly heard from yet in this story! Are you ready? (Well, I'm grabbing your hand whether you're ready or not). Come on, this will be fun.

Chapter 23: Cupid's Not the Only One with Arrows

Lance Strongbow is no stranger to a prison cell.

He'd spent a completely unglamorous chunk of his life being arrested for a few weeks at a time (or even a few months, depending on the particular offense), only to be released and guiltlessly start the vicious cycle all over again – mostly because thieving was his only means of survival, and Lance didn't exactly have time to waste battling with a guilty conscience.

When his conscience was battling against a grumbling stomach, the grumbling stomach typically won out.

It wasn't that he was a bad person or anything. Okay, so Lance's moral compass wasn't completely stagnant. But could one really blame him, given his unsatisfactory upbringing? It wasn't that he particularly liked spending time in prison, or that he particularly enjoyed stealing in order to fill his stomach. Prison often translated into mildew-infested living spaces, bitterly cold nights, and general loneliness. Lance Strongbow – or, more accurately, Arnwaldo Schnitz (but he doesn't like to talk about that) – had simply been dealt a hand of cards which were entirely unideal, the unluckiest of the draw, and his record with outrunning the law wasn't entirely impressive.

His record of stealing impressive shit that didn't belong to him? Worthy of praise and pride. His ability to keep himself out of prison? Now, that was shaky at best.

Really, Eugene – or, more accurately, Flynn Rider – had always been a bit more successful when it came to actually evading arrest. In contrast, Lance wasn't quite so quick on his feet, or quite so effective at grade-A bullshitting someone with his pure sweet talk. But did that stop Lance from pursuing an exciting life of adventure and crime?

No, of course not. A guy down on his luck has to survive somehow.

Speaking of Eugene, Lance has been cursing his best friend's name for about an hour now, shuffling around in a dark prison cell on the second floor of the palace prison, wishing that Eugene would've just listened to his advice this one time.

What had he told Eugene? Lance had warned him, had practically begged his dearest friend to walk away from the princess before shit had the chance to truly hit the fan – before Eugene would get really, really hurt, and get himself tangled up in a situation that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of. Lance didn't want to see that happen. The burly ex-convict had warned his childhood partner-in-crime that starting an affair with the newly-wedded princess would be an entirely nuclear idea. Lance had warned Eugene – had warned him the morning after Lance had essentially gotten no sleep, because he'd spent the previous night listening to the princess get her brains fucked out by someone who wasn't her husband –

It didn't matter. It didn't matter why it was stupid, it just mattered that it was. And for once, Lance had been entirely right.

All of these royal rules and regulations, Lance had quickly come to learn as a result of his time in the castle, were not something to be fucked around with. The endless rules, the impossible expectations, the tight schedules… it was all bullshit, as far as Lance was concerned. They (namely, the council) took that shit seriously, and one misstep could send your neck straight for the gallows.

Although the princess is sweet, and kind, and lovely, and although Lance has always understood how much Eugene loves her – more than Lance has ever seen Eugene love anyone, even himself – Lance just couldn't quite wrap his head around the notion that Eugene was always so willing to potentially lose his neck for her, time and time again.

Rapunzel is a great girl. Really, she is. She's gorgeous, and youthful, and clever, and exuberates a special kind of natural warmth – the kind of warmth which is usually only attributed to mothers. With lack of a better term, the princess kind of feels like sunshine upon your face – and maybe that's why Eugene has all of those silly, little nicknames for her. Before Prince Charles, before the arranged marriage, before everything went to shit… Eugene had it absolutely made, because someone like Rapunzel loved him. And as much as Lance hadn't wanted to admit it, when he'd first arrived at the palace, he'd been a little jealous of Eugene's unwavering devotion to Rapunzel, mostly because Lance simply didn't understand it then. For a while, Lance had just wanted his friend back.

He'd wanted the person that he'd thought his friend had been, but no longer was.

Essentially, Eugene Fitzherbert was a lucky son-of-a-bitch: a son-of-a-bitch who struck absolute gold in the form of a princess with more money than she would ever know what to do with. Lance had thought so from the very moment that he'd coerced his way into the castle, hoping that good old Flynn Rider might help a buddy out a little – Lance having been fresh out of the big house, and having heard the rumors that Flynn Rider was now living in said castle. Lance had sauntered into the situation, fully prepared to come face-to-face with his swindling, manipulative, and expertly criminal oldest companion.

After all, Flynn Rider of all people couldn't possibly have changed for the princess, couldn't possibly have shed that painfully selfish skin of his. There had been no plausible explanation as to why Flynn really would've fallen headfirst into pathetic puppy love, or why he would have any real motive for sticking around an eighteen-year-old kid – aside from gaining access into the castle in order to steal something very, very valuable, of course.

Because Lance Strongbow knew firsthand (or, at the very least, Lance had thought that he did): Flynn Rider didn't change for anyone.

It had all made perfect sense – all of the swirling rumors about Flynn Rider rescuing and falling for the newly-returned princess – and Eugene's sudden luck had inspired Lance to concoct a perfect plan of his own. Lance had been eager to reunite with his childhood partner-in-crime after a few years (or was it more than a few? It's surprisingly easy to lose track of time when you thieve for a living) of living their own, respective lives: a few years post-leaving-Stalyan-at-the-altar. Lance had been eager to discover whether or not his dearest friend was willing to share a piece of that sudden luck.

It made perfect sense that Eugene (or Flynn, as Lance had still thought him to be at the time), would simply pretend to fall in love with the princess, if only to get into the castle to take another crack at making his millions and getting that island that he'd always wanted. And, while he had the opportunity sitting right there in the palm of his hand, why not bed a princess, too?

That was definitely something that Flynn Rider would do.

But, as it would turn out, the princess herself was the very valuable thing in which Flynn Rider had his once-so-selfish eye on. And when Lance actually met the princess, and realized that Flynn wasn't… well, he wasn't exactly Flynn anymore, Lance had essentially been convinced by said princess to stick around and change his own thieving ways.

At first, Lance had bluntly accused Eugene of being a sorry sap, especially for going back to that name: the name which had once stood for nothing more than the lonely helplessness and depression of growing up as an orphan. That name – Eugene – had stood for a grumbling stomach, and dust-covered floors, and a leaking roof, and looking after the younger kids because no one else would. There had been a time when Eugene had done everything in his power not to be Eugene anymore. The notion that he genuinely wanted to go by a name which stood for a childhood so traumatic, was absolutely absurd.

But the more that Lance actually got to know the princess, the more that he understood the reason as to why Eugene had felt so inclined – so determined – to prove to her that he was worthy of change, and worthy of a second chance: to prove that he was worthy of being with her. Rapunzel was special like that. Her goodness made you want to be good, too. And although the princess wasn't perfect – and although Lance had promised himself that he wouldn't fall headfirst into the sorry-sap rabbit hole that Eugene had found himself so deep in – Lance had quickly found himself tumbling into that princess-induced trap called change.

The princess was especially effective when it came to inspiring you to second guess the person that you've been – but not in an intentional, malicious way. No, not at all. The princess, through the way that she treats and cares for others, wordlessly has the power to make you question if who you've been is really the best version of you, and what you could do differently to be that best version. Needless to say, Lance hadn't held a steady job, well, ever – at least, not before he'd been convinced to settle down in the castle. He had the princess to thank for that, and for his change of heart, no matter how subtle. Rapunzel, albeit blindly, had spoken on his behalf to the king and queen, determined not to be wrong about trusting Lance to stay in their home without causing any trouble.

Lance will admit (and he has to Eugene, many times in the last several months), he does still experience fleeting days in which he misses the fast-paced life of thievery: not having a schedule or rules to adhere by, not having someone to answer to. But castle life definitely has its perks, and once again being at the side of his childhood best friend was the greatest perk of them all.

That is, until shit hit the fan, and everything went completely sideways. That is, until Rapunzel was forced to marry a foreign, asshole of a prince. Said prince assumedly wasn't very good in bed, and assumedly wasn't enough like Eugene to satisfy her heart and her desires (not that Lance could really blame the princess for this – his friend was a total catch, and Charles was, well… Charles). And then – oh, then – said prince had found out about Eugene's little affair with the princess. The prince had found out, just as Lance had verbally predicted was bound to happen sooner or later.

But Lance isn't one for saying 'I told you so.'

That childhood best friend of his can be a real, lovesick idiot sometimes. But Lance isn't one to rub such things in when Eugene is already down for the count, his sudden good luck snatched from him so abruptly, so cruelly. Lance shakes his head, pacing the lowly-lit prison cell which has been his home for the last week or so. Honestly, he's lost all sense of time, the days inevitably blurring together completely. How long has it been since he'd first been placed into this dank cell? A week? Two weeks? Lance wonders where that lovesick best friend of his is right about now. If he knew, and if he had an effective way of getting out of this damn cell, Lance would probably knock some sense into Eugene for essentially being the reason that he was haphazardly shoved into the cell in the first place.

Flynn Rider never would've let something like this happen. Oh, no. Good old, selfish-as-sin Flynn Rider never would've even let things come close to getting this out of hand. Mostly because Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who epically escaped a marriage that he hadn't wanted to be a part of. Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who fucked whatever girl he'd wanted, leaving her high and dry before the sun came up, no strings left hanging. He'd effectively gotten his dick wet, sure, more than most men that Lance had known (more than him).

But Flynn Rider didn't get attached.

Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who could get himself into a bar fight, sweet talk his way out of it, and walk away with minimal injuries. Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who stole the coveted Lost Princess's crown, committing Grand Theft Treason with virtually no guilt sticking to his money-driven, thrill-seeking conscience whatsoever. That is, until he'd found said Lost Princess, and guilt became a frequent, pesky emotion clinging to his newly-found, Eugene-driven conscience. Regardless, Flynn Rider was not the kind of guy who stuck around for some girl, only to watch her be married off to another man – even if said girl is pretty great, completely loaded, and royal-blooded.

But Eugene Fitzherbert is.

Eugene Fitzherbert is that kind of guy, because Eugene Fitzherbert has a heart. A big one, dripping with sappy emotions, and endless devotion, and the deep desire to stay. He has a heart that's always been a little too big for his own good, and a little too full of a particular princess who seems to have a thing for getting kidnapped. Eugene Fitzherbert is the kind of guy who stays, the kind of guy who holds you tight and shelters you from the storm raging outside of your window. He is the kind of guy who loves you so much, that you fear for your heart, desperate to believe that you will never have to know a world without him – and maybe that's why Rapunzel hadn't been strong enough to let go.

Even if letting go would have kept Eugene from getting hurt.

Lance doesn't want to be angry with the princess. It isn't that Lance doesn't like the princess, because he does – he always has – and it isn't that he blames her for any of this. Not at all. Rapunzel hadn't chosen to be married off to an arrogant asshole of a prince, hadn't chosen to be treated as though she were nothing more than a pawn in the ruthless game of the Coronan council. She hadn't chosen to fall so far in love with Eugene that her heart was too full of him to make room for anyone else.

It seemed to Lance that Rapunzel hadn't chosen a lot of what had happened to her in her nineteen years.

In addition to getting taken away from her home, the girl apparently had a thing for attracting arrogant men, too. But at least Flynn Rider had essentially been nothing more than a well-crafted façade, masking a man of true integrity, unconditional love, and the desire to change for the better. Charles, on the other hand, was following the truth of his true nature right down to its core, the pure maliciousness weeping from him so obviously.

Frankly, Lance isn't quite sure who to be the most angry with, questioning if it's even worth anything for him to be angry at all – what with his best friend's heart on the line. Being angry won't change that, and being angry won't get him out of this cell. And regardless of who Lance believes should take the blame for this fucked up situation, he doesn't appreciate being haphazardly thrown into a prison cell by a group of strange, darkly-dressed men – not when he'd done essentially nothing to deserve it but foreworn Eugene of a consequence like this. Lance doesn't appreciate this abrupt, uncalled for lack of comfort, especially when he'd warned Eugene – more than once – that something like this would happen if he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

Oh, Eugene had done a great job at that, keeping his dick in his pants. Really, he'd held out with the princess for a whole lot longer than Lance would've assumed to be humanly possible. Honestly, when Lance had initially met the bubbly, slightly naïve, entirely trusting princess, he'd wholeheartedly assumed that Eugene was already reaping every benefit of the entire situation. But no, he wasn't, and Lance had been utterly surprised by his friend's impressive ability to hold out. This whole 'waiting game' which Eugene had found himself apparently trapped in, was just another example of a selfless sacrifice which the ever-selfish Flynn Rider never would've made, and just another situation which proved how much Eugene truly cared about Rapunzel – which proved how much he didn't want to fuck things up with her.

That being with her – that instilling a love-driven longevity in their relationship, rather than a fast-paced, lust-driven end – was more important than being in bed with her. And for a while, all was beautiful in the world: it was all rose-colored glasses, and sunshine and rainbows, and Lance was a little grossed out by all of it. But his best friend was sickeningly happy, and that was all that mattered.

But then – then – the princess had to go and get married to the damn prince who had arrived by complete surprise to all of them, and all hell had broken loose. That grand, horrific event had seemed to pivot Eugene's sex life, and his inability to stay away from Rapunzel was inevitably shot through the roof, his ability to hold out any longer sent straight to hell. If the princess was the sunshine, Eugene was a plant, incapable of surviving without her touch, and essentially dependent on her presence in his life to keep him from wilting away completely. As a result, Lance had spent one-too-many nights listening to Eugene's headboard hit the wall. Sometimes, Lance would hear the princess's little, bare feet padding down the hallway past his bedroom door late in the evening, and he would just know that he was in for a long night.

And maybe that's why Lance is so grumpy about the whole thing now: it isn't just about the prison cell. It isn't just about Eugene's inability to heed Lance's well-guided warnings, or Eugene's rejection of Lance's grand idea that they return to their lives of thievery together. It's about Lance's lack of sleep, and his general jealousy over not getting laid nearly as much as Eugene.

But mostly, Lance has tumbled headfirst into this sour mood because he'd explicitly warned Eugene about shit hitting the fan like this.

Then again, just as Eugene had so bluntly pointed out to his dear friend, Lance has never been in love. Meaning, he could never truly understand why Eugene is doing all of this: namely, why he is so hell-bent on sticking around through this absolute mess of a situation, when Flynn Rider would've made a run for it ages ago. Lance couldn't understand, and wouldn't understand, not unless he fell in love for himself.

But love is for suckers, as far as Lance Strongbow is concerned. Love only gets you into trouble. And regardless of how accustomed he is to getting into trouble, Lance doesn't have the capacity (nor the time) for the kind of heart-shattering trouble which love so often drags a person headfirst into. Honestly, Lance isn't entirely sure that he ever will – not after watching how much this true love stuff has absolutely shattered his friend and his entire life.

Eugene and Lance are completely different in that way. Regardless of Flynn Rider's overtly masculine ego and lack of attachment to the many young women in which he would take to bed with him, the little orphan Eugene Fitzherbert inside of him had yearned desperately for love – true love. Even if Eugene never would've admitted it aloud at the time, Lance could see it clearly in his friend's eyes, could picture the child from the orphanage lurking there behind his brown irises. Eugene had so badly wanted to be loved, to be adored, and to be accepted for who he was – not for who he was when he was following the identity of a made-up character from a damn book, but for who he was in his truest form. Even in their youth, Eugene had yearned for the kind of love that makes you feel sick, and makes you forget your own name, and generally just makes you feel like you're losing your mind and all sense of reality.

It was this make-you-feel-out-of-your-mind kind of love which Eugene had wanted so badly. And for a while, he'd falsely believed that he'd found it with Stalyan. But he'd been wrong, and he'd only yearned for it all the more as a result, and had suppressed that yearning all the more after leaving her – it was the kind of love that Flynn Rider had simply accepted that he would never be worthy of.

It was the kind of pure, real love that Eugene had with Rapunzel, before it had all blown up in their faces. She made him forget his own name (quite literally), and made him feel worthy, and made him love her so much that he lost all sense of reality – enough to believe that carrying out an affair with her, with her psycho husband lurking over their shoulders, would be a good idea.

Lance Strongbow prefers to have his head screwed on straight, thank you very much.

The dear friends could've made out real good, if they'd wanted to. The moment that the princess had gotten hitched, Eugene and Lance could've taken a few valuables from the castle and high-tailed their asses out of Corona. It would've been just like old times: all drinking late into the night, and picking up willing, young women who had a thing for rebellious, handsome men, and the fast-paced, unpredictable adventure which could only come with being a thief. They could be anywhere by now, living the good life! If they'd played their cards right when leaving the castle, they even could've gotten that island that Eugene had always wanted.

But Eugene didn't seem to give much of a shit about that island anymore. He gave a shit about the princess, and lately, that was pretty much it.

And where is Lance now? In a damn prison cell. And it's not hard for Lance to assume that Eugene probably is, too, if not strung up in the gallows. Lance silently prays that this isn't the case, but he's not willing to put much of anything past Prince Charles at this point. The guy seems a little off-kilter (or, more bluntly, a lot off-kilter), and entirely used to getting whatever he wants, exactly when he wants it.

And he'd wanted Rapunzel, alright: had wanted her in a way that was painfully opposite of the way that Eugene had wanted her. The way in which Eugene had wanted – the way in which he wants – her… it's pure. It's not money, lust, or politically driven, the desire that he has for her. The way in which Eugene wants Rapunzel, had once included the dream-like visions of a white dress, and children which would be the product of true love, and a long, beautiful life together.

What Charles wants from her, is something different entirely. From Rapunzel, Charles seeks only power, control, and a crown resting comfortably upon his ego-inflated head. In his limited presence, this had becoming increasingly obvious to Lance. Charles' desire for Rapunzel began and ended with a few, simple things: it began with a crown, which led to getting his dick wet, which led to successors for said crown. This is where Charles' use for the princess ended, and his need to treat her respectfully ended right along with it. And sure, Eugene's desire for Rapunzel had been triggered by wanting a crown, too, but it didn't end that way.

It would never end that way. Eugene would give up millions in selfish profit for Rapunzel, would give up his life for her. Charles, her own husband, couldn't say the same.

And the princess deserves far more than that: far more than someone simply using her for what she could offer, rather than truly loving her. In Lance's humble opinion, it appeared as though she had gone through enough of that for one lifetime. Lance doesn't know a whole lot about love, but he knows enough to acknowledge that whatever Rapunzel has with Charles, isn't it – especially not when comparing their politically-induced, arranged relationship to what the princess had once found with Eugene.

What they'd found together, before Charles had taken it into his greedy hands and lost it.

It's a little eerie, the whole thing: the way that a group of strange men had drug Lance into the prison building while he'd been dressing for guard duty that evening about a week ago. It's eerie, the way that none of his coworkers are anywhere to be found, let alone the king and queen. Lance has spent the majority of the entire past week wondering just what hell is going on, and how much of it had been planned by their dear friend, Charles.

Lance's eyes snap away from the dirty floor of his prison cell when a crack of light floods through the long, narrow hallway, the door at the end of the hall swinging open abruptly. One of the quiet men dressed in black saunters to Lance's cell, heavy boots tromping loudly upon the cobblestone hallway, shoving a small loaf of bread through the bars and watching as the loaf tumbles to the ground. This man is new and fresh-faced – not the tired-looking, middle-aged man which had been bringing Lance his meals previously.

"Breakfast is served." The young man grinds blankly, eyes completely devoid of all emotion, voice lacking any sense of humor.

Lance drags his own booted feet forward on the dusty floor, wrapping his fingers around the cold, cell bars, peering through the dim, early-morning light to study the man's youthful face. The eyes of the seasoned thief are abruptly intrigued by a glimmer from the man's pocket as he turns away, silvery metal catching the rays of the rising sun: a set of keys.

Bingo.

"Aw. Would it kill ya to smile a little, buddy?" Shooting the young man a toothy grin, Lance pushes his face through the bars as well as he can, analyzing his expression for a shift, for a response of any kind.

"Keep your mouth shut." The unnamed man responds gruffly, turning to glare at Lance with dark, narrowed eyes, pointing a steady finger at him. "I didn't give you the permission to speak."

"Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?" Lance snickers, silently praying that the man will continue to edge closer to the cell bars. "Geez. Something stiff is up your ass this morning."

The man bares his teeth, stepping close to Lance's face – a reaction which Lance had hoped for.

"You don't speak about my mother. You don't speak at all."

So, he can be provoked, huh?

"And yet, here I am, chatting away with a fine young man like yourself."

The man shakes his head, keys glinting from his pocket as Lance tries his best not to stare at them for too long, silently announcing his true intention.

"You cocky son-of-a-bitch. I said, shut –"

"Now, you're going to listen to me." Lance reaches through the bars suddenly, the now-caught-off-guard man having edged close enough to remain in his harsh grasp. He snatches the young man by the front of the shirt with both hands, his tight, iron-like grip causing the boy to struggle and thrash about immediately, his heavy boots shuffling on the dirty cobblestones.

"Ugh! Let me go! Help! Hel –"

"That'll be enough of that." The burly, former thief grins, covering the young man's mouth with a steady hand, looking him straight in the bewildered eye. "Give me your keys."

"Mmm!" The dark-eyed man shakes his head rapidly, eyes wide, knowing deep in his bones that he'd fucked up.

"I said, give me your fucking keys!" Lance demands between gritted teeth, the easy grin falling from his face, replaced with a look of pure intimidation. "Now."

The young boy grumbles something incoherent (which sounds a little bit like fuck), behind the pressure of Lance's strong hand over his mouth. Fumbling with shaky fingers to reach into his pocket, the boy tugs the jingling set of keys from it and holds them reluctantly up, allowing them to catch the morning sunlight once more. With a secure grip still grasping onto the front of the boy's shirt, Lance snatches the keys from between the cell bars, a proud, satisfied smile returning to his face.

"I'll take that."

Still holding the young man's shirt with one hand, Lance struggles momentarily to open the prison cell door, finally pushing it open, just enough for his tall body to squeeze through. Pocketing the set of keys for later, Lance – with a moderate level of guilt – sends a mean right hook to the side of the unsuspecting boy's head, causing him to fall to the floor like a heavy sack of potatoes. Snickering quietly to himself, Lance releases his grip of the young man's shirt through the cell bars, watching the boy fall, noticing that he'd flattened the small loaf of bread underfoot in the struggle.

It's about time that I got myself out of that damn cell. Now… Eugene. I've gotta find Eugene.

With quick, quiet steps and trained, perked ears, Lance trots down the eerie hallway, which is now bathed in sunlight as the sun begins to rise over the kingdom, glittering upon the harbor through the narrow windows of the dank prison. Swinging the heavy, wooden door at the end of the hallway open, Lance is met with a cold, stone stairwell, which he quickly rushes down, praying to the heavens that another darkly-dressed man – or an entire group of them, similar to the group of men which had harshly shoved him into that prison cell in the first place – won't come upon him unexpectedly.

Reaching the end of the stone stairwell, Lance is met with the wide door which leads to the main level of the prison, a small window near the top of the door allowing Lance to be alerted to one of those darkly-dressed men standing there, guarding the entryway. Taking a heavy, preparatory breath, Lance whips the wooden door open abruptly, swinging at the man's head from behind, watching triumphantly as the man is sent careening to the cobblestone floor, overtaken by the sheer surprise of Lance's brute strength.

Some shuffling down the main hallway of the prison ensues as Lance ensures that the darkly-dressed man is going to remain unmoving long enough for him to investigate. The former thief squints in the dim, early-morning sun, edging forward as a pair of white-knuckled hands wrap around the bars of a nearby cell.

"Lance? Lance, is that you?" The low voice tentatively breaks the eerie silence of the prison hallway, echoing a curious mixture of alarm and relief against the stone walls.

A wide grins breaks upon Lance's face as he rushes forward, immediately recognizing the kind, brown eyes, neatly trimmed goatee, and broad shoulders of his dearest friend, even in the dingy lighting.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Lance!"

Reaching into the deep pocket of his guard uniform, Lance fumbles to find the set of recently-acquired keys, holding them up in the dim light with a proud expression plastered across his face. Lance is entirely relieved to see Eugene in a prison cell similar to his, and not strung up in the gallows as Lance had feared for the majority of the past week.

"Look what I got."

Lance dangles the keys in front of Eugene's face jokingly, soon after registering the shuffling of another pair of feet behind Eugene before his best friend can answer. The faces of the two men fall abruptly as an unimpressed Cassandra reveals herself from the shadows, casually inspecting her fingernails.

"Hmm. Who would've thought that you, of all people, would actually come in handy for once?" Cassandra comments nonchalantly, causing Eugene to roll his eyes through the cell bars, placing his forehead against them defeatedly as the lady-in-waiting shoots a pointed glare in Eugene's direction. "Fitzidiot over here sure hasn't."

"Get me the fuck out of here."

Eugene whispers quietly, only loud enough for Lance to hear the desperate request, causing Lance to chuckle softly as he notices with relief that the king and queen have also emerged from the dark shadows of the prison cell, leaving him feeling just as glad to see them unharmed – well, physically unharmed.

Emotionally… now, that's another story.

After fumbling with the keys for a few moments, Lance steps back, opening the cell door wide enough for the group of four to step through, guided by the looks of momentary solace washing upon their faces as they experience freedom for the first time in a week.

Eyeing Eugene closely, Lance furrows his eyebrows with a newly-returned irritation: the irritation which had plagued him for a week in that stupid prison cell. An irritation which, in reality, is really more so worry for the people that he cares about than anything else. An irritation which desperately yearns for someone to blame for the heartbreaking expression which Eugene is currently showcasing. Though, this irritation of Lance's absolutely melts once more, taken in by the unforgiving hands of the defeated look gracing his best friend's face now. Eugene is so clearly exhausted – assumedly having not slept at all – and shattered in heart, and lost. And Lance has never seen him quite so defeated; not even on Rapunzel's wedding day.

Not even in the orphanage.

"The princess?" Lance dares to ask, words tentative upon his lips. He doesn't want to hear the answer – a horrible, unwelcomed answer which he can assume well enough on his own.

"She's gone. The bastard took her." Shaking his head solemnly, Eugene's facial expression shifts from utterly shameful, to an undeniable rage, harsh anger churning like a suddenly-lit forest fire burning behind his amber irises as they stare Lance straight in the eye. "I had to watch her go. The fucker made sure that I would have to watch."

"I'm so sorry, buddy." It's clear to Lance how racked with anxiety his best friend truly is, prompting him to lean forward, slapping Eugene's shoulder encouragingly. "But don't you worry that perfect head of hair! We'll get her back."

"Alright, I'm glad that you two lovebirds could have this little reunion. But if we're going to get Rapunzel, we need a game plan – a real game plan. Not sheer luck that we won't get caught out of this cell." Cassandra steps forward, her harsh glare darting between the two men. "We can't go into this blind, and we can't go into this without thinking it through a little. We have no idea how many of those guys are out there or lurking around the castle, and we have no idea where Rapunzel even is right now. It's been a week! We can assume that he took her to Maddoline, but really, she could be anywhere by now!"

"Cassandra is right. We need a plan before we can move forward any further. A solid one." Frederic strokes his beard thoughtfully, speaking for the first time since Lance had arrived and opened the cell door. The stoic king thinks for a long moment, turning to his wife with a stern, determined expression, paying no mind to the three worried, young people staring at him, awaiting direction. "Arianna, you and I will get to a ship, and –"

"Freddy, sweetheart… I think we should let the children handle this." Arianna wrings her hands subtly, as though she were incredibly nervous to suggest such a thing to her worried husband – her husband, who is clearly being ripped apart at the seams, trying so very hard to keep his composure in such a horrific situation as their daughter being kidnapped for a second time.

"You… you think that we should what?" Frederic blinks hard, shaking his head, entirely incapable of processing his wife's seemingly-ridiculous suggestion, staring at her as though the queen has lost all sense of reality. "This is Rapunzel that we're talking about! Our daughter. Do you really think that we can just sit back and do nothing? We've already lost her once –"

"Honey… I think that our home has clearly been infiltrated, and that we need to take it back. We need to take this kingdom back. If we hadn't been so complacent to the council for so long now, perhaps none of this would have happened to her. What sense is there in trying to find Rapunzel if she doesn't even have a home to come back to?"

In spite of her hard tone, Arianna places a delicate hand to her temple, wincing as if a pain has shot through her forehead suddenly.

"As much as I want to go, and as much as I want to see her face as soon as physically possible, we need to hold down the fort here." Arianna reaches forward to pat her husband's shoulder now, a grim expression etched across the soft face – her face which resembles Rapunzel's so painfully. "We have no choice. That is our job. That is what we promised to do. We don't even know what's going on out there! Our people could need us here."

"But… but she's our child! To hell with the people!" Frederic throws up his hands in a misplaced frustration toward his wife, his raised voice echoing against the prison walls, haunting the eerie hallway. "She needs us! She will need –"

Arianna sighs heavily, taking her husband's distraught face into her small hands, forcing Frederic to look her in the eye, murmuring to him quietly.

"She needs him." Arianna looks back to Eugene who has quietly been looking on, arms crossed against his chest. "I think we need to let Eugene be the one to do this."

In response to his wife's otherwise understandable proposal, Frederic dares to steal a glance toward Eugene, a furrowed expression crossing the king's face, not having said much to the younger man all week. It's been made entirely clear that the king is a bit pissed off (or, more likely, a lot pissed off) at Eugene for the whole thing, and having an even harder time looking at him lately.

And honestly, Eugene really doesn't blame him. Frederic has spoken only a handful of sentences to him in the past week, and the majority of them weren't exactly peppered with praise – or, at the very least, these few-and-far-between comments weren't even graced by the general comradery which the two men had procured between them in the last year and a half.

More often than not, Frederic had simply taken to stealing sideways glares of disappointment at Eugene in the prison cell, and that was that.

"I think that if it weren't for Eugene, our daughter wouldn't be in this mess." Frederic narrows his eyes further, his voice cold and hallowed out by the pure bitterness of his tone.

This blunt, harsh comment causes Lance and Cassandra's eyebrows to simultaneously rise in shock, though Eugene's own expression remains just as stoic as the king's, seemingly unsurprised – unsurprised, as though Eugene had seen this conversation coming all along. As though he had been anticipating a tongue-lashing from the man who he'd once believed to be his future father-in-law.

The queen pushes her own, dark eyebrows together, suddenly retreating her hands from her husband's face, as if his skin has unexpectedly burned her fingertips. As if the accusatory comment were directed toward her, and not Eugene.

"I think that you are speaking from your stress, Frederic, and not from your heart. And I think that if it weren't for us, and for our thoughtless, selfish actions nineteen years ago, Rapunzel wouldn't have been married to this insane man in the first place!" Arianna shoots back, unwilling to allow Eugene – someone who she has come to think of as her child just as much as Rapunzel – to completely take the fall for this unfortunate circumstance.

"But we did not know better at the time, darling! We were just trying to do what was best for our daughter, for this kingdom!" Frederic motions to Eugene with a shaking hand, his obvious frustration with the man that he'd once regarded like a child of his own, as well, coming to a bitter head. "But he knew better! He knew that… that his behavior could put our daughter in serious danger! And now it has!"

"Frederic, stop this right now." Arianna looks up at her husband warningly, green eyes flashing, daring him to go on. "This is Eugene that we're talking about. He is like our son. We know how much he loves her! He never would've wanted this –"

"We know what he wanted from her."

Arianna shakes her head in disgusted disbelief, taking a visible step back, edging closer to the ex-thief as if to physically protect Eugene from the king's harsh words. Her voice shakes as the queen stares at him, completely shocked by her husband's sudden brutality – a brutality which has been bubbling just below the surface, desperate to boil over during the course of the past week spent in the prison cell together.

"Frederic… Frederic, I know that you did not just suggest –"

His own eyes narrowed, trying their best to shield the hurt welling within them now, Eugene's gaze darts between the king and queen.

Eugene is entirely appreciative of Arianna's quick willingness to defend him, but knows that he doesn't deserve it. Not anymore. Even though Eugene doesn't want to admit it, Frederic poses a completely valid point, and the queen shouldn't have to take the brunt of Frederic's anger toward him. This – this mess which they've found themselves in – it is Eugene's fault. He knows that, and he's not afraid to say so. He's spent each night for the past week lying wide awake, blaming himself.

Blaming himself for her not being here, safe in her bed.

"Arianna, its okay –"

"No, son, it's not okay!" Frederic bellows as Eugene attempts to reach out to Arianna in gratitude, causing Lance to jump. "Because of you, my daughter…" The king takes a heavy breath, struggling to maintain a calm composure. "My sweet, precious daughter, who has already gone through this once… has been taken again! Because you wanted her crown, because you wanted her… her innocence!"

"Frederic." Arianna steps forward sternly, her green eyes narrowing violently at her husband in a way which Eugene has never seen her glare at him before.

Or anyone, for that matter.

"Why don't you tell me how you really feel, Sir?" Eugene clenches his jaw – hard – not breaking eye contact with the king, his words dripping with an offended sarcasm. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel about me, after you asked me to stay!"

When the king doesn't have an immediate response to offer to him, Eugene allows his own, strained voice to raise against the stone walls of the prison – ironically, the same prison which Frederic had, over a year ago now, readily signed for Eugene's life to end in. Eugene allows the pain and anger of the last week – of the last several months – to come rushing from his mouth, sure that he'll be putting his foot in it later.

"Because I'm just a thief, right? I'm just someone who came here with complete ill-intention toward your daughter. It's not like I put my neck on the line for her, to bring her home, not knowing if you would kill me when I got here. It's not like I've worked my ass off to prove to her – to prove to you – how much I've changed! It's not like I wanted to marry her, or give her a beautiful life, or love her as much as I possibly could, before she was married off to an asshole that she'd never even met! Before she was married off like she was just the fucking property of this kingdom, and not a person who has already spent eighteen years being told what to do!"

Eugene holds his crossed arms hard against his quaking chest, willing himself not to thrash his hands about like a frantic idiot as he stares the king down, willing himself to even his hard breathing.

"No, no, Sir. You're completely right. All I wanted from her was the crown and a quick fu –"

"Eugene –" Arianna looks to him pointedly, silently pleading with Eugene not to dig his hole even deeper with her overprotective, quick-tempered husband.

But Eugene is on a resentful roll now, already six-feet-under, and not even the mutual glare of the king is enough to clean up – or, better yet, to stop – his word vomit.

"And what happened to the whole 'We won't get anywhere if we remain angry with one another' spiel?" Eugene finishes, cheeks bursting with color, the emotional mercury in his body threatening to finally explode after four, agonizing months without Rapunzel. "What happened to the 'we're all in this together' bullshit?"

"I would watch your mouth if I were you, Eugene." Frederic responds quickly, stepping forward, though Arianna effectively blocks his path, causing the king to shake his head at his wife in a betrayed disbelief. "I have every right to be angry with you!"

"Maybe you do. And believe me, Sir, I'm furious with myself!" Eugene brushes past a reluctant Arianna, shaking his head repeatedly in a silent way of begging the king to hear him out. "But I would die for your daughter. I have died for your daughter! If that doesn't prove that I didn't want anything from her when I came here, then I don't know what will. And you know what? I would do it again! I will do it again to get her back into your arms, if that's what I have to do. And if you need someone to blame for all of this, that's fine. I get it. Because I blame myself, too."

Pleading, brown eyes meet enraged, blue ones – both of which now will themselves not to soften under the pressure of the heated moment, but do anyway. Because the men which respectively own each set of these emotion-betrayed eyes, have always come to a mutual agreement: they both love one girl with their entire heart, and this is something that they will always have to share. Frederic and Eugene will always share her, will always have her in common – even in the moments when they do not want to. Even in the tensest of moments.

Moments like right now.

"But please… please believe that I never wanted any of this to happen to her, and please believe that I will do everything in my power to bring her back home." Eugene looks up to Frederic with an expression so pleading that its borderline pathetic. "I brought her back home to you once, didn't I? Can you just trust that I'll bring her home again?"

Frederic looks away curtly, angry tears brimming the corners of his eyes as he studies the delicate, morning sunlight as it pours through the windows lining the prison hallway, hating how much the sunlight reminds him of her – hating that all of this feels so familiar. The king shakes his head, wiping his eyes sharply, desperate to hide any sign of weakness – though, no one would dare hold it against him.

They're all feeling a little weak without her.

"She shouldn't have to be brought home again. She doesn't deserve this, she never did." Frederic clears his throat uncomfortably, still unable to look Eugene directly in the face, eyes fixated instead on the rays of sunlight which bounce upon the prison walls. "None of this should be happening."

"You're right. You're absolutely right." Eugene wills himself not to cry, as well, because he's never seen the king cry before. But the feat proves to be much more difficult than originally anticipated, and despite his best efforts to remain strong – to remain strong for her – Eugene can immediately feel hot tears pricking at his own lashes. "But it is. It is happening. She's gone, and I need to get her, or I'm gonna fucking lose it. So, I'm asking… I'm begging… that you please let me go, Sir."

Unsure of what else to say – unsure of what else could possibly convince Frederic that he's capable of saving her from the grave which they'd effectively dug for themselves – Eugene allows his voice to crack with the emotions which he has rendered himself incapable of keeping bottled up inside any longer. He allows the unforgiving tears to fall, because he's been holding them back for too damn long.

"She'll want me to be the one to get her. Please."

Finally looking at him, Frederic sighs heavily, running his hands over his tired, aging face defeatedly.

"Fine. Go." Furrowing his bushy eyebrows together, a reluctant, warning look quickly crosses the king's face. "But I swear, Eugene, if you don't come back with her –"

"I know, I know. You saved a copy of my death warrant, and it's sitting in the top drawer of your desk for a time like this." Eugene mumbles, having already known what Frederic would say – having heard the Overprotective Father Speech enough times in his first six months of living in the castle to know it by heart. "I got it."

"Well, now that that's settled… can we get out of this place already? Maybe get our hands on some weapons?" Cassandra questions impatiently, hands on her hips as she nods toward the door, addressing the lone guard still face down on the floor at its base. "You know, before he wakes up, or before any of his little friends come back to check on us?"

The painfully awkward tension in the sunlight-flooded hallway is completely palpable as Arianna stares the king down, ushering the three younger members of the group toward the door with a motherly air. The queen pauses to address her husband as Eugene, Cassandra, and Lance step quietly over the passed out guard, slipping through the prison's main door.

"Frederic… I am so incredibly disappointed in you right now."

And it's true. Arianna's eyes are flooded, too, just like the hallway has been flooded with balmy sunlight, sharply contrasting the coldness of the prison – flooded with pure anger. Frederic is sure that he hasn't seen his wife so visibly upset since the day that they'd lost Rapunzel as a baby, and suddenly, he feels incredibly ashamed.

And maybe, just maybe, that's her motive. Maybe that's why Arianna's big, green eyes (eyes that remind him so painfully of his daughter's) are staring at him so menacingly: so that Frederic feels ashamed for the way in which he'd spoken to Eugene just a short time ago. For the way in which he'd spoken to a man who Frederic had once claimed to be like a son to him.

This is the man who had selflessly brought his daughter home to him in the first place, and had expected essentially – surprisingly – nothing in return for it. Not a reward, not a crown, not anything. Just her. That's all that he's ever wanted, for as long as Frederic has known the former thief. And she has always been more than enough for him, that Eugene.

This is the man who Frederic would always feel indebted to. A man who, yes, Frederic had asked to stay, even in the wake of Rapunzel's marriage to Prince Charles. Because this man, he was not only an asset to the palace guard, but his presence… it brought to his daughter an unexplainable, visible peace; a peace which Frederic had never seen in another person before. And for her, Frederic had always wanted just that. Peace.

At the time, Frederic had simply been so happy to finally have his child returned safely to his arms, that it hadn't mattered who brought Rapunzel that peace, or who brought her home. He simply knew that, after eighteen years of hell, his daughter deserved as much. It hadn't mattered that Eugene had once been a criminal – the criminal: the criminal to steal his daughter's crown. The crown which was the only symbol of her that Frederic had left to hold onto, the crown which had been preserved as the single shred of hope which followed eighteen years of living in pure agony without her. It hadn't mattered, because Eugene had proved himself. He had proved himself capable of change, and capable of being forgiven.

Capable of loving her so much, that he would lose his mind if anything were to ever happen to her – just the same as Frederic had lost his own mind when she'd been taken from them for the first time. And for this very reason, Eugene and Frederic are much more alike than they seem, and much more alike than either of them would ever be willing to admit.

Eugene had proved himself, just as he'd stated to the king. That much was true. That is, until the inevitable exposal of the entirely irresponsible affair which Eugene had allowed to procure itself right under Frederic's nose. That is, until everything had blown up in their faces, and Eugene's selfish actions had put his daughter in the kind of danger which Frederic had dreamed that she would never have to experience again.

And perhaps, Frederic really can't be angry with Eugene at all. Because if Eugene loves Rapunzel even half as much as Frederic thinks that he does, he can't blame the young man for not being able to stay away from her – for not having the strength to stop loving someone as perfect as her – because he hadn't been able to, not even in her entirely-too-long absence.

For eighteen years, Frederic hadn't been able to stop loving her, either. Because once you loved Rapunzel, you couldn't stop. You couldn't wake up one day and stop. It's simply not possible.

But Frederic has always had a bit of a pride problem, so admitting such things aloud isn't going to happen. Not any time soon, at least.

"But, dear –" Frederic insists with his own eyes bared widely to Arianna as she scolds him angrily, though his insistent words are cut off by his wife's steady hand being raised in the air between them.

"Don't. Don't you dare."

Just ahead, Eugene pushes through the door of the prison, thankful as he feels the crisp air being sucked into his lungs, the warm sun upon his face for the first time in a week, pausing as the group of five steps into the surprisingly empty prison courtyard. Eugene feels a large hand upon his shoulder suddenly, slapping him supportively. He turns to see Lance standing beside him with a sad, hopeful smile spread across his face.

"Well, buddy… you need to get yourself out of the doghouse, big time." Hands on his hips, Lance studies the horizon, squinting his eyes against the bright rays of the sun. "So, what do you say that we go and save that princess of yours?"

---

Eugene, Lance, and Cassandra decide to split up for the time being, traveling individually through the castle in the hopes of drawing less attention to themselves, leaving the king and queen to their own devices. They'll need resources, and if the trio intends to make quick passage to Maddoline – which is the most likely place which Charles would have brought Rapunzel – they're going to be on a ship for at least the next week, and that's only on the basis that the weather remains fair. They'll need food, and water, and weapons if they want even the slightest chance at escaping Corona and getting Rapunzel back safely.

There would be no time to find the mysteriously missing palace guards to aid them on this rescue mission (not that they would assumedly be much help, anyway), and there would be no time to be afraid. There would be no time to be selfish, and there would be no time to think about anything other than getting her back home. Frantically, Eugene had wanted to get down to the harbor and hop onto the first ship that they could find, hightailing it to Maddoline territory immediately. But Cassandra had reminded him that setting sail without making at least some preparations beforehand would not only be incredibly stupid, but detrimental to their livelihood, not getting them any closer to saving Rapunzel at all.

So, although Eugene had despised himself for verbally admitting that Cassandra was right, he'd allowed her to make her way alone to the weaponry room, assigning Lance with the task of making his way to the kitchens to pack them enough nonperishable goods for a week or two. Sneaking through the early morning air, Eugene slinks against the stone wall of the castle, entering the looming building through the side door which leads to the vast garden system.

He desperately tries not to think about the maze to his right, all the times that he'd chased her through it, and the night that he'd begged Rapunzel to run away with him in said maze: the night that Charles had thrown a party for her, the night that Stalyan had pinned her to the floor, and the night that all hell had broken loose. Well, when all hell had broken loose, before all hell had truly broken loose.

Eugene had made love to her that night for one of two reasons: because he fucking hates Charles, and because he pathetically loves her. He tries not to think about how beautiful she'd looked that night, and he tries to forgive himself for not being able to convince Rapunzel to leave with him right then, there in the maze. Because if he had, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess at all, and maybe she would be safe.

She still wouldn't be home right now, but at least she would be safe with him.

Eugene tries not to think about the way that she'd promised that she would never love Charles as he'd made love to her, and how Eugene had held that panted promise close to his heart ever since. He tries not to think about how she'd moaned for him, and he tries not to think about how he'd begged her to promise again and again that she would never be capable of loving anyone but him.

He tries not to think about how much he hates himself for even making her say it. And if Eugene would've known then that making love to her that last time, would be the last time, he would've held her in his arms a little tighter, kissed her a little harder, and convinced her to run away with him a little better.

But it doesn't matter, not now. The only thing that matters now, is getting her back into his arms.

Pulling the side door tentatively open, Eugene pokes his head inside the marbled hallway, praying that no one will be lurking about. Thankfully, he's yet to run into one of those strangely dressed men, but he has a sickly feeling that such a confrontation is inevitable. Shutting the door to the gardens behind him quietly, Eugene slips into the eerily empty hallway, his ears expertly perked, as though he were still a thief on a high-stakes job.

And maybe he is. Maybe he's been commissioned for the job of stealing the love of his life back from a psychotic prince – a prince who isn't quite used to hearing the word 'no.'

"Hey, Rider."

Whipping around, immediately recognizing the feminine voice in the otherwise silent hallway, Eugene's eyes widen as he finds himself staring down the end of a lethal weapon. Before Eugene can think of a witty response – before he has the chance to react at all – an arrow is sinking deep into his muscled bicep, causing him to clench and whine in pain.

"You're a real son-of-a-bitch, you know that?" Stalyan smirks, dropping the crossbow to her side with a proud air about her. "Really, I should've known that a prison cell wouldn't be able to keep you of all people down for very long. Let me guess, your idiot friends helped you?"

Slinking forward, Stalyan admires her handiwork, studying Eugene closely as he frantically grasps at his shaking, bloody arm.

"Honestly, you took ahell of a lot longer to get out of there than I thought you would. What, have you lost all sense of sanity without the princess here to help you keep it all together? She's had you on the straight and narrow for so long, you forgot how to pick a lock?" The Baron's daughter scoffs, shaking her head humorously. "That's a little pathetic, even for you, Rider."

Bewildered, Eugene's eyes dart between Stalyan, the crossbow in her hand, and the subsequent arrow which has sunk itself deep into his arm, his brain falling into a curious mixture of shock, anger, and general lightheadedness.

Well, that's new. For a moment, Eugene wonders when exactly Stalyan had gotten to be such a good shot, because she'd had a pretty lousy aim when he'd known her. She'd typically used her mouth and her hands to get her out of troublesome predicaments, and not her less-than-stellar use of a crossbow.

Her previously less-than-stellar use of a crossbow.

"Ah!" Eugene hisses, abruptly sucking in a large breath of air through his teeth and grabbing at his arm as the impalement adjusts itself further beneath his skin — his arm, which now has a fucking arrow protruding from the muscle. "Ow… what the fuck was that for!?"

He all but screams the question, staring at Stalyan expectantly for a reasonable explanation, a searing pain ripping through Eugene's body as he tentatively tugs at the arrow, silently wondering just how detrimental it would be to simply yank it out.

"I told you. I wasn't going to leave the palace until I got my payout." Stalyan shrugs easily, sauntering toward him, inspecting her nails nonchalantly, and acting as though Eugene doesn't deserve so much as a simple explanation for her sudden bout of aggression toward him. "And originally, well… that payout was you. I thought that I could get you back, get the princess's greedy little hands off of you once and for all. But, you know. Plans change, people change."

Stalyan shrugs again, casually circling him.

"And now, I have strict orders to make sure that you don't leave Corona, and I was promised a very pretty penny to follow those orders. And you know how much I like my money..." She reaches out, running a gentle finger along his jaw – which is in desperate need of a shave – which Eugene immediately swats away with his good arm. "Don't you, Rider?"

"Would you stop calling me that?" Eugene grits his teeth, keeling over as he tries his best to press a hand to the wound around the arrow, trying to keep the blood from gushing through his white shirt and soaking the sleeve completely. "That's not my name. My name is Eugene. And you're not going to get the princess's hands off of me no matter what you do, so cut the bullshit! If you know where she is, you better fucking tell me, Stalyan."

Could things really get any worse? After Rapunzel being taken by Charles, spending an entire week in a painfully-too-small prison cell with an angry Cassandra, and the argument with Frederic, the last thing that Eugene needs right now, is having to deal with a jealous Stalyan – all with a damn arrow in his arm.

"Oh, right... right." The Baron's daughter snickers, a smile of unrequited humor falling from her lips. "I guess I should call you by your real name now, huh? After all, it was pretty comical listening to the princess mumble it over and over again while she was all unconscious and stuff. You know, when we were getting her to the ship?"

Stalyan flits around him in a mocking gesture, pressing a hand to her cheek in a sarcastic display of dismay.

"Eugene, Eugene! Save me! Oh, I'm so incapable of saving myself from a tower, and from my husband, and I always need you to save me!"

Eugene narrows his eyes violently at Stalyan, ready to bark out an equally painful insult, but he's starting to feel a little too dizzy from the blood loss to think of one. Flynn Rider, he knows, would've been able to. But he's not Flynn anymore.

The sarcasm-dripped gesture completely infuriates him – not only because Stalyan is blatantly insulting Rapunzel, but because the insult is so entirely untrue. Rapunzel doesn't need anyone to rescue her, and he knows that, too. Eugene only goes after her time and time again, because he wants to. Because he loves her so much that it actually hurts, even more than the arrow currently sunk deep into his arm.

But really, Rapunzel has saved him so many more times than he's saved her, in so many more ways.

"Don't you fucking dare —"

"But even you couldn't save her this time, could you?" Stalyan abruptly interrupts the empty warning which falls dead on Eugene's tongue, donning a faked sympathy. "Mmm. It's a shame, really. You two are a real match made in heaven, aren't you? No matter what you do, the universe just keeps tearing you apart, doesn't it?"

Stalyan clicks her tongue, obviously pleased with her performance.

"And to think, you could've just saved yourself all of this trouble, and came back to me. I told you, Rider, thieves belong together." She steps close, drawing herself up to be at eye-level with him, pushing Eugene's hand a little harder into the wound, causing him to bite back a pathetic moan. "You know, you still could come back to me… if you wanted to. And we could just forget this whole thing. Things could be the way that they were."

"I — are you insane? Seriously, Stalyan, have you finally lost it, once and for all?" Motioning to his arm, Eugene shakes his head at his ex-flame in disgusted disbelief. "You just fucking SHOT me!"

"Oh, come on, Eugene. I shot you in the arm, not in the heart." Stalyan twists her face into a dramatized look of displeasure, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes, still not liking the way that his real name feels on her tongue.

It's just one more, stupid reminder of the steady hold which the princess now has over him: a hold which Stalyan was never strong enough to keep over him herself.

"We always were a little toxic, anyways. But like, in a fun, sexy sort of way." Stalyan chuckles, waving her hand casually. "This isn't personal. I'm willing to put it in the past, if you are."

Eugene silently quirks a dark eyebrow at her, eyes again darting between the Baron's daughter and the arrow protruding from his arm.

"Ugh, okay. It is a little personal. But so what?" Stalyan throws her free hand into the air, allowing it to fall dramatically back to her thigh with a loud slap. "I only shot you because I'm getting paid to make sure that your lovesick ass doesn't go after the little princess!"

"What makes you think that locking me in a prison cell, and shooting me in the arm, will keep me away from her?" Eugene looks Stalyan directly in the violet eyes, trying his very best to ignore the sudden bout of lightheadedness overtaking his body now. "You're going to have to kill me if you don't want me to go after her. Quite literally kill me."

Eugene chuckles darkly, clutching at his blood-soaked arm, a thousand memories rippling in the tension-filled air between them, praying that these memories are enough to provide him with the upper hand.

"And we both know, no matter how much you might want to hate me… you would never do that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you." Stalyan raises the crossbow slightly, waving it in the air to prove her point.

I don't have time for this. I don't have fucking time for this! I don't have time to argue with Stalyan, and I don't have time for anything that's going to keep me away from Rapunzel any longer than I already have been.

Sighing deeply, Eugene rubs at his forehead, searching for words which he'd never thought he would be saying to her – because the last time that he'd thought them, he'd been too selfish of a person to say them out loud. Looking Stalyan in the eye once more, Eugene steps forward with a pleading expression, begging for his ex-fiancé to listen to him, just this once.

"Look, Stalyan. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm truly sorry. And I'm not just saying that because I feel like I have to. I'm saying that because… well, because you deserved to hear it a long time ago."

Stalyan blinks, a deep frown falling upon her face, his words having shocked her into shutting up.

"I'm sorry for leaving you at the altar, I'm sorry for how fucked up our relationship was, and I'm sorry for the way that things ended between us. I should've just been honest with you, a lot sooner than that day. And while we're on the issue, I'm sorry for all of the times that I fooled around behind your back. Really, I am. It's not like you didn't do it to me, too, but..."

Eugene trails off, shaking his head in frustration. Rehashing the past with Stalyan is completely redundant, and something that he really doesn't have the time for. Getting to Rapunzel: that's the only thing that matters now. Not the person that Eugene had been while he was still with Stalyan, and not the person that Stalyan had been while she was still with him. They'd simply brought out the worst in each other, and always had.

And that's precisely why Eugene had skipped town on their wedding day.

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'm not the man who treated you that way anymore. And I'm sorry that I can't love you in the way that you want me to, in the way that I love her…"

Eugene takes in a shaky breath, trying to hold himself together as Rapunzel's terrified face flashes in his mind, desperately trying (and failing) not to recall the way that she'd looked as she'd sailed away on that ship.

"But I just can't. She's everything to me, okay? Everything. She's the only thing that's ever made me want to be a better person. And I'm trying to do that, trying to right my wrongs. But I can't do it without her, I can't… Stalyan, I can't go on without her. Please try to understand that. Try to understand what it feels like to love someone more than yourself."

Eugene has successfully captured her attention now, watching Stalyan closely as she stares back at him, listening – probably having dreamed about this long-time-coming apology from him for so long now.

"Fuck. I mean, maybe I should've started by righting my wrongs with you. I should've given you closure. You deserved that much from me, after all of the years that we spent together. I had my reasons for not wanting to get married then, but you deserved to hear them. And I know that you're angry with me, and I know that you're bitter, and I understand. I get it. I was a complete asshole, and I deserve for you to hate me for the rest of time."

Eugene takes another, tentative step forward, visibly pleading with the Baron's daughter now – something that he hadn't wanted to do, but will do for Rapunzel's sake.

"But she doesn't deserve your hatred. She doesn't deserve any of this. She doesn't deserve to be taken away from her home, not again. And she sure as hell doesn't deserve to be treated this way. Not by you, and not Charles. Not by anyone. She's already gone through enough!"

"Well, she is the perfect little lost princess, isn't she?" Stalyan mumbles with a roll of her violet eyes, unable to look at him as she says it, because even she knows what a low blow it truly is. "Maybe she just needs to stay lost."

Immediately, Eugene's expression shifts from pleading, to deeply angry, completely offended by the comment – so offended, in fact, that he can't help but laugh at Stalyan's shallow selfishness. It's a painful, numbing selfishness which makes Eugene all the more thankful that he'd met Rapunzel.

Because if he hadn't, he never would've outgrown it himself, and he would still have a void in his heart as deep as Stalyan's. He would still be trying to fill that void with money, and riskier heists, and forgettable women who would never even know his real name.

"God, Stalyan! Just cut the bullshit for one second and listen to me! He's going to do something to her, something bad! You might think that you know him, and you might think that you can trust him, but you don't and you can't." Eugene grits his teeth, completely fed up with trying to be complacent enough to please her, just enough that she'll let him go. "Can you seriously live with yourself to know that? To know that, if something happens to a completely innocent person, you'll be partly to blame?"

Eugene stares at her with a look of unhidden revulsion, knowing once and for all that the woman standing before him, has become a stranger once more. It hadn't been their lengthy time apart which had the power to consciously confirm this, hadn't been him blowing her off on the day of their wedding. No, it had taken loving Rapunzel – it had taken being loved by her – for Eugene to see her true colors: to see Stalyan for who she really was. Now, she is no different than the person that she'd been when he was fifteen, when she was standing before him for the very first time. Now, she is a complete and utter stranger.

And Eugene doesn't want to know her, not ever again.

Stalyan scoffs at his question, shifting uncomfortably, moving her weight between both of her black-booted feet.

"The princess? Innocent? Please. She's the farthest thing from —"

"Yes, she is, Stalyan." Eugene interjects harshly, forcing Stalyan to snap her mouth shut once more. "She's a perfectly sweet, perfectly kind person. A person who would've done anything to be your friend if you hadn't come here with bad intentions. A person who doesn't deserve any of this to happen to her. Again!"

Not caring about the way that his voice is now rising through the chandelier-dripped hallway, Eugene narrows his eyes at her, tired of having to defend someone as perfect as Rapunzel, to someone as selfish as Stalyan.

"God, it's not her fault that I can't love you! It's not her fault that you can't have me!"

Stalyan sputters angrily at this, rushing toward Eugene – as if to seek comfort from him – but stopping awkwardly just a few feet before him.

"Of course it is! If it weren't for her, you'd want me back —"

"No, Stalyan, I wouldn't. Whether I fell in love with her or not, we were never right for each other. I figured that out long before I met her. It's kind of why I left you at the altar!" Eugene reasons, frustrated that this long-winded conversation isn't over, when he could already be on a ship to Rapunzel. "That was ages ago! You've gotta get over it, girl! And I'm sorry if that's harsh, but it's the truth. Our relationship was a mess, and that doesn't have anything to do with her. You know that it was, and I knew it years before I even met her! So, if you need someone to take your anger out on, then take it out on me. I can handle it. But do not – I swear, Stalyan – do not take it out on her."

Eugene looks down to inspect the arrow in his arm, the blood gushing from the wound having subsided by only a minuscule amount. If he doesn't get this patched up soon, he's going to pass out in the middle of the hallway, and that isn't going to do Rapunzel any good. Looking up at Stalyan, Eugene heaves his chest to intake enough air to keep talking, the dizziness threatening to overtake him completely.

"What else do I need to say, Stalyan? Just tell me, and I'll say it. Is it the money that you want? Look, I'll make sure that you get your payout, okay? I know people, important people. I know the king. If you let me go, I will personally make sure that you get whatever it is that you want." Eugene shallows hard, swaying a bit in place, forcing himself to keep his heavy eyelids from falling shut. "But please, I'm begging you... Stalyan, I'm begging you, for the sake of the love of my life, for the sake of my sanity… please just let me go! She needs me right now, and I need her!"

Through hooded eyes, Eugene looks to Stalyan imploringly, swaying with his entire body now, as though he were painfully drunk.

"Okay? I'll get you your money. Please. I need her."

"Say that again."

Stalyan steps toward him, that same, playful smile tugging at her lips once more: the one that had so evilly graced her face when she'd first shot him. Eugene isn't entirely sure if that was ten minutes ago, or ten hours ago.

"I need her?"

"No, you lovesick idiot. The begging part!"

"Come on, Stalyan, I'm fucking serious!" Eugene whines, clutching at his aching arm. "I don't have time for this —"

"So am I! Now say it. You owe me that much!"

Frankly, standing here with an arrow imbedded in his arm, Eugene doesn't feel like he owes Stalyan shit. Not after the way that she'd treated him for the better part of a decade, which had been just as bad as the way that he'd treated her (honestly, if not worse, what with her always-condescending tone and manipulative tendencies). To meet Stalyan on her high horse was excruciating, but he had to do it.

He would do it, for Rapunzel's sake. Quietly, and grovel-like, and hating every single second of the climb up. But he would do it.

"I'm begging you to please let me leave the castle."

Stalyan sighs heavily, shaking her head, as though she can't believe her own weakness.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Eugene sends a silent praise to the heavens. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Stalyan confirms, casually crossing her arms over her chest, tucking the crossbow neatly beneath her armpit. "Under one, little condition."

"Anything."

"I get my payout."

"You'll get your payout." Rapunzel's face floods into Eugene's mind, and he feels a little like he's just sold his soul to the devil for the sake of an angel. The words leave his mouth in his own voice, though he hears them in his mind as her sweet, soft one. "I promise."

Apparently having been satisfied enough with his groveling, Stalyan reaches forward with a smirk, and suddenly rips the arrow from Eugene's upper arm, causing him to kneel over and bite his lip hard in the attempt to hold back a pathetically loud groan.

"Just like ripping off a bandage, huh?" Stalyan twirls the bloodied arrow between her fingers, inspecting the blood-covered tip closely – apparently, for any remains of his burning flesh.

"That fucking hurt!"

Clutching at his arm, Eugene sucks in a hot bout of air, cursing under his breath. Sighing dramatically with a roll of her eyes, Stalyan takes a wad of bandages from her pocket, rolling up his bloody sleeve and securing a long strip of the white cloth around Eugene's bicep. She places a steady pressure upon the wound as she ties the ends of the cloth tightly together, and Eugene stares at her as Stalyan makes hasty work of the makeshift bandage.

Stalyan eyes him back, fluttering her eyelashes to look away from him, her expression showcasing what Eugene swears is pity for his predicament – as if it's not her fault that he'd been shot in the first place.

"What? I wanted to slow you down, not kill you."

When she finishes wrapping the already-bloody bandage around his arm, Stalyan stares at Eugene for a long moment, silently handing the remaining rolled-up cloth to him. He stares back, an unspoken history lingering between them: a tumultuous history, one which had once been filled to the brim with nostalgia and poisonous passion, but has now been blackened in the last several weeks of Stalyan living in the castle and successfully wreaking her havoc. Frankly, Eugene is aching to cuss her out for the repercussions which have occurred as a result of Stalyan snitching to Charles about his affair with Rapunzel.

Ultimately, though, Eugene knows that he only has himself to blame for selfishly putting his love in such danger, and he doesn't have time to waste.

Eugene only has himself to blame for what has happened to Rapunzel. He only has himself to blame for making Stalyan hate him enough to want to put the princess in harm's way for the simple sake of revenge, in the name of trying to get him back. He knows that, and he won't even begin trying to deny it.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, assuming that there's nothing more to be said between them, Eugene turns to make his way down the ghostly-quiet hallway once again, mentally preparing himself to leave the castle grounds, and get to Rapunzel. He silently prays that he can somehow find passage on the world's fastest sailing ship, and that Cassandra and Lance haven't already left without him.

"Hey…" The Baron's daughter pauses from making her own way back down the hall, wringing her wrists nervously (and Stalyan doesn't get nervous), the crossbow still tucked tightly under her arm, as if she's contemplating what to say to him.

As if she's contemplating an appropriate goodbye, finally accepting that this is goodbye. The goodbye: the one that she'd never properly gotten from him.

"Eugene?"

Surprised, Eugene stops and turns back to look at her, having assumed that Stalyan would never acknowledge his real name – not after making a mockery of it ever since she'd arrived at the castle.

"Yeah?"

"Good luck. I think you're gonna need it."

AN: This chapter also took so long to be posted, because I honestly didn't know if I even liked it. I ended up sitting on it for a long time, mostly because I understood that Eugene is 1000% capable of getting himself out of a prison cell, and I wasn't sure if I wrote Lance in character (I mean, he's so happy-go-lucky typically, but this situation is so screwed up, so his annoyance felt warranted). But I wanted to involve Eugene, Cassandra, and Lance in Rapunzel's rescue mission, so we're going on the assumption here that Eugene didn't have anything at his disposal to pick the prison cell lock. Just bear with me, if you would be so kind. I understand that he easily could've broken himself out immediately, but he needs his friends to light a fire under his ass right now, okay? Just like I needed a fire lit under my ass to finally get this chapter up. I'm looking at you, Kelsey. ;)

I truly did enjoy writing the character study at the beginning from Lance's point of view, because I hadn't written from his perspective yet. His thoughts about Rapunzel were meant to parallel Cassandra's thoughts toward Eugene: both Lance and Cassandra understand that this situation is ultimately Charles's fault. But they're both feeling some bitterness over New Dream's inability to let one another go, when letting one another go would have protected their respective best friend. Does that make sense?

On another note, how do you guys feel about the conversation between Stalyan and Eugene? It's always irked me that, in the series, Rapunzel was the one to forgive Stalyan, not Eugene. Why should that forgiveness be placed upon Rapunzel's shoulders? Why should Rapunzel have to redeem everyone, especially Stalyan, when she'd clearly treated Eugene so horribly for years? I don't know, it's always bothered me, and I wanted to give Eugene a chance to say his peace. Let me know your thoughts, and just know that I am so incredibly happy to be back with you guys.