So, here is chapter three.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Tangled franchise. I only own this story idea and any characters I create.
Quirin rubbed his eyes in the vain hope that it would stop the headache.
Across from him, Varian had just finished explaining what had happened, staring nervously at his empty plate.
Their guest, Connor, was munching quietly on another loaf of bread with an empty mug next to him. He hadn't spoken much during the story, mostly because he was busy eating.
After Varian mentioned pulling him out of the river, Quirin had him get a towel and dry clothes. He was now dressed in a long-sleeve green tunic and burgundy-brown pants. He had a towel around his shoulders, and his pendant was the only thing he was still wearing from his old look.
Meanwhile, his own clothes, along with his cloak, had been hung up to dry in Varian's lab.
At the same time, his pet hawk, Courage, he had said, was sitting on the table next to the teen. Varian had pulled out a piece of meat for him, and he was pulling off chunks of that in time with his human.
On the one hand, Quirin was proud that Varian had wanted to help a stranger when he found them injured.
On the other hand, Connor was a stranger. The kid had alchemy, alchemy his son didn't know, he had magic to some degree judging by the sparks, and he saw the sword sleeve in the living room. A thousand scenarios were playing in his head about how much worse this could've gone.
What if he set the house on fire?! He could have knocked Varian out intentionally and then stolen their valuables!
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That was probably just the stress talking.
Even so, knowing a teen with unknown alchemy, magic, and an attack hawk was sitting in his house and had (unintentionally, he tried to remind himself) assaulted Varian was making him uneasy.
"Go to your room, Varian," He said, shooting him a look when he tried to protest. "When I'm done here, we're going to talk."
Varian couldn't hide his grimace, ducking his head as he nodded.
"Yes, sir," He said, reluctantly gathering their plates to place them in the sink. He paused at the table on his way out, offering Connor a shy, nervous smile. "It was, um, nice to meet you."
He was just about to leave when…
"Wait!"
Varian stopped, turning to look at Connor in surprise. The other teen didn't meet his eyes, turning away with a light blush on his face, a spark of regret in his sky-blue pools.
"I'm… sorry about your nose. I didn't mean to hurt you; I was… frazzled," Connor glanced up at Varian but quickly averted his gaze again. "I've had a long day, to put it mildly. I'm sorry, and… thank you for saving me."
Varian smiled, turning fully towards Connor with a hand rubbing the back of his head. "You're welcome, and don't worry about my nose. It's honestly not the worst I've dealt with."
He laughed good-naturedly, though the sound grated on Quirin's nerves. Accurate as that statement was, he couldn't find the humor in it.
Varian didn't notice his ire, entirely focused on Connor, who was peering up at him with curiosity. "I can't tell you how many times I've burnt or nearly broken something! In fact, I specifically designed a cream for burns because–"
"Varian!"
"Good night!"
Quirin waited, counting the steps as Varian ran up the stairs to ensure he was going to his room and wasn't trying to eavesdrop. He turns back to Connor when he can hear the distant sound of a door shutting.
Light blue eyes that matched his son's watch him cautiously from across the table, arms curling tightly around himself. Courage stopped eating, noticing the tension in the room and waiting for orders.
He closed his eyes, taking a breath.
He's the same age as Varian, maybe slightly older. Just a kid, he reminds himself. Wrong impressions aside, he needed to keep that in mind, no matter how much his alchemy, powers, or hawk unnerved him.
"Alright, look," He started, resting his clasped hands on the table but not moving closer. With how on edge he was, Connor would probably take any movement toward him as a bad sign. "We got off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry for attacking you; I misunderstood the situation."
He waited, but Connor seemed warier of interacting with him than he was with Varian. Waking up in a new place and having an unknown adult attack him, of course, he wouldn't be friendly.
Still, he could at least apologize for his half of the fight, though, especially when he tried to burn him and have his hawk gauge his eyes out. If he hadn't had gloves on, he would have had deep scratches and burns on his forearm.
"You clearly know how to fight, and from the sounds of it, you're traveling. Where are you going?"
There's a long moment of silence, where Connor refuses to meet his gaze. Quirin was beginning to worry that this would be a one-sided conversation when Connor finally turned to him.
"Corona," He answered before explaining further. "Something… Something happened in my kingdom about six months ago. Our… The Oracle said that the answer was in Corona. So, my friends and I were on our way there to find answers."
So, Connor was on his way here, he was traveling in a group, and there was at least one adult that knew where he was?
That was not what Quirin had been expecting to hear, yet at the same time, it was better than what he had been expecting. He had initially thought that Connor was a runaway.
Even so, that wouldn't explain how he ended up in the water long enough to end up in his current condition. Had Connor and his friends done something reckless that put him in danger?
Clearly, since he was here and they weren't.
Still, the vagueness of his explanation bothered Quirin.
Connor held back information, hiding details that would make the situation make sense. There was also the part where he corrected himself when he said 'our,' changing it to 'the,' like there was something in that statement he didn't want to be revealed.
So, what was going on? What "answers" was he looking for, and did he have some kind of connection to royalty?
He wasn't carrying a backpack with him. The sword sheath was empty, and he didn't see any other weapons besides whatever chemicals he was throwing around. Then again, he might have lost it in the river.
"Did one of your friends accidentally push you into the river?"
"No!" Connor snapped suddenly, almost sounding offended. He quickly became quiet again, looking away when Quirin blinked in surprise. "I mean, no, no one pushed me. We were… attacked."
"Attacked by whom?" This time the silence stretched on.
Quirin gave him another once over.
There weren't any serious injuries, such as burns or puncture wounds. No bloody clothes.
The teen had been limping when they walked into the kitchen and swayed heavily with exhaustion, but that was the worst of it. He was jumpy, but that could easily be attributed to their fight.
He tried to soften his features, lowering his voice as he did when Varian was upset. "Are you running from somebody?"
There wasn't a verbal answer, but Connor shifted slightly in the seat, looking more and more… visibly exhausted.
Almost heartbroken.
Clearly, this subject was a sensitive one. Even so, it was enough of a reaction to tell Quirin he was on the right track. "Are you in danger, Connor?"
"I don't know!" Connor snapped again, turning further away from him.
He hunched in on himself, hands clutching at his hair in distress. Courage sounded a concerned trill, trying to comfort the human.
There was a brief flash of a more fragile, hurt expression, one that he tried to suppress. Dragging his hands down his face, Connor takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"I'm sorry…." He whispered, trying to gather his thoughts and feelings. Taking another breath, he removed his hands and turned to the older man. "Years ago, I would have said this person would never hurt me, but now… I don't know anymore…."
Quirin frowned. Concern bubbled up into his chest, squeezing his heart uncomfortably, while another part of him worried about not having all the answers.
"Who is 'this person?' Do your parents know something's going on?" He asked, keeping the same gentle tone.
No response this time, but sadness returned to his eyes. Not as profound as before, more like he was lost in old memories.
Quirin allowed himself a sigh, using the silence to give another look over for any sign of origin.
He thought back to his outfit, but Connor was dressed no differently than himself, in a simple red shirt with dark blue pants and brown boots. The jacket and gloves stood out but didn't give any clues.
However, what did catch his attention was the gold pendant around his neck that Connor was now fiddling with. A sense of familiarity came over him like he had seen a locket like that somewhere before…
"Where are you from?"
He had a few good guesses, though there was no guarantee that's where Connor came from. It also doesn't help him when his answer is Connor biting his lip and clutching his necklace.
"Connor, you can't wait for your travel companions to get here. They wouldn't know where to find you. If you tell me where your home is, we can send a message–"
"No!" Connor cut him off, but he stood his ground this time. "That will either lead the Coronans to everyone or alert the rebels where I am! My team is our last line of defense; we've taken too great a risk leaving!"
The teenager then paled, slapping his hand over his mouth. Apparently, that was information he hadn't intended to share.
Quirin stared back at him, stunned quiet though trying to keep a stoic expression.
Clearly, there was far more to Connor, his mysterious companions, and their journey than he thought.
Which meant they had a problem. If Connor was from a kingdom in some kind of political unrest, there was no way Quirin would send him back to that, even if he knew where it was.
Even so, he still needed to know where this place was so he could understand the full gravity of Connor's situation. The places he'd thought of were too far away to investigate himself, and he had no contacts in any of them to do it for him.
The only reliable information he had was that Connor was traveling with friends. They were possibly trained warriors, Connor knew how to fight, and they were traveling to Corona despite sounding like their kingdom was on bad terms with their destination. Whatever answers they were looking for must be significant enough to outweigh the risks.
If he had been an adult, Quirin would have been more than happy to at least give him some supplies before sending him on his way. However, he was a child. He shouldn't be wandering out on the streets alone; Quirin wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully if he left.
"So, what are you going to do?" He asked, getting over his surprise.
Connor snapped out of his stupor, actually looking at him again.
His question must have registered because he became quiet again. It wasn't the 'I don't want to talk about it' quiet he had been using the whole time; it was a deep-thinking silence.
It honestly reminded Quirin of Varian when he was thinking about a problem, a comparison that both eased and concerned him.
"Do you have enough supplies to travel? Food, clothes, money?"
"I have money," Connor answered, seeming calmer now that they were talking about technicalities. "Food and clothes, too. It's all back with my friends at our campsite."
"What about a map?"
"We have a map. It's a magic map, so it can be used anywhere."
"If somebody jumps you again, can you defend yourself?"
"Yes, though I'll need to replace my sword."
"Do you even know where you are?"
"Aside from being in your house, no."
Quirin let out a heavy sigh before dropping his head into his hand, rubbing his eyes as his headache started returning. Running his fingers through his hair, he takes a deep breath before looking at Connor again.
At least the teen isn't avoiding his gaze anymore, though now he's looking at him with what he thinks is growing suspicion. He's less tense but not by much, leaning slightly closer as if to get a better look.
Taking another breath, he releases it slowly before speaking. "Traveling through an area you don't know without a guide is probably one of the most reckless things I've ever heard."
That's mostly an exaggeration. Quirin can think of two other people who nearly drove him crazy with worry, but here in the present, Connor is the most recent.
"We were attacked; I have no control over that! We were doing fine until then; it's not my fault the log I was standing on gave out!" Connor replied, his anger making itself known. "Look, if having a teenage swordsman in your house bothers you so much, I'll leave!"
"Absolutely not."
He immediately regrets the tone of his voice. The firm, no-nonsense, 'I'm not taking no for an answer' voice.
Connor practically jumps back in his seat, nearly falling over as he watches him warily. Courage gave a warning screech for if he did that again.
Just a kid, he reminds himself with another deep breath.
"Look," He said, falling back to a gentler tone. "Think about everything I just asked. Are you okay with traveling into the unknown without supplies or a proper weapon? I know you said you have a map, but you're still injured and in no condition to be traveling."
He's prepared to be brushed off for another outburst, but Connor remains quiet, his gaze tracking his every move.
"Until we can figure something out, why not stay here?"
"You mean until you can find out where I'm from."
"Maybe. I need to think about what I'm going to do, but I know I can't just let a child walk off without any plans or proper supplies," He sat back, crossing his arms, fixing Connor with a stern look. The teen may not like it, but Quirin was going to go with his gut on this one. "So, for the time being, you can stay with us."
It's not the best strategy. Having more alchemy in the house has his stomach twisting uncomfortably, especially at the thought of Varian being near it. He could set him up with somebody else, even turn him over to the authorities to let them figure out what to do with him.
Maybe he would have even felt okay with that if a little worried, but Connor has advanced alchemy and magic. While the latter tugs at memories he'd rather ignore, he can't in good conscience dump magic and alchemy he doesn't know, especially when both belong to a reckless child, into somebody else's hands.
So, for now, this is the best option.
Connor looked skeptical at the suggestion, studying his face for something. Quirin isn't sure if he finds it or not.
"Why should I trust you?" He asked, eyes narrowed.
"I don't know what it means to you, but I can promise that you'll be safe here," Quirin said, trying to convey as much honesty as he could. "If you need to leave, then I'll help you find somebody else or get you where you need to go, but for right now, I insist that you stay here."
"Good to know, but that's not what I meant," Connor said, narrowed eyes turning into a glare. Quirin raised an eyebrow in confusion. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say you were a farmer or laborer, so how do you know how to fight?"
Years of training keep him from reacting outwardly, while on the inside, he's frozen with surprise.
Connor straightens up, keeping eye contact as he rests his arms on the table and leans forward. "You weren't phased in the slightest, no matter what I threw at you. Anyone else would have lost focus and stopped moving when I threw that smoke grenade down or turned their attention to Courage when he attacked, yet you were able to stay in the fight. You also have surprisingly fast reflexes for a simple farmer if that's always been your occupation."
Quirin shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief despite the sweat forming on his back.
"I am just a simple farmer. I just happen to run into some interesting people when they pass through." It wasn't untrue. Quite a few people would pass through Old Corona on their way to the Kingdom. While whatever Connor was, warrior, alchemist, mage, or something else, was rare around these parts, it wouldn't be hard to believe that one had done the same. "As far as the fighting, I was only going off the adrenaline of the situation."
Connor's glare doesn't waver.
Quirin was starting to rethink the 'just a kid' excuse the longer he looked at the boy's eyes. He may have looked only fourteen, but his eyes made him look older. It was like his brother or sister were sitting at the table with him.
It felt like those sapphire pools were trying to tear through the careful mask he'd spent years crafting.
A mask that he'd allowed to crack.
Was it the sight of Varian, unconscious and bloody on the ground? Was it the strange boy throwing alchemy and magic without hesitation? Was it the exasperation of an adult dealing with a rash teenager?
Some combination of the events had made him, for a moment, forget that he was simply Quirin, the leader of Old Corona, a widowed farmer with one son. A man who shouldn't be too skilled in fighting, who shouldn't have been able to brush off an assault with no trouble.
"Uh-huh," Connor said, skeptical. Quirin is sure he can't see through his mask, but that doesn't mean Connor trusts him enough to believe his denial. "I strongly suspect there is more to that, but I have my own secrets, so it's not my place to pry."
He definitely doesn't know, but he was trying to put on a show of having some control of the situation. A fact that irritates him more than anything else Connor has said or done because Quirin isn't being honest, and he has no plans to ever come clean.
Especially not to such a stubborn, reckless, dangerous child he had just met today.
He sighs heavily and shakes his head like the tired parent he is. Denying it too much would make Connor more suspicious; it's best to brush it off like it was nothing.
His gaze falls to the candle, now much shorter than when it was first lit, before pushing himself up. He nods towards the darkened window. "We should head to bed. It's gotten late. I've got a guest room you can use."
He probably should have asked Varian to get that prepared, but it should have clean sheets anyway. Nobody in Old Corona ever stayed the night, but he liked to keep it ready in case old friends came knocking.
Connor shifts uncomfortably, gaze darting between him, the window, and his borrowed clothes. Emotions flit so quickly across his face that Quirin has difficulty discerning them, though he's sure he sees wariness every time their eyes meet.
Eventually, his shoulders slumped, letting out a loud sigh like even the reaction cost too much energy.
"Alright," He said, standing up.
Almost as soon as he stepped from his chair, he swayed, hand shooting out to grasp the table to keep from pitching forward.
Instinct has him moving, hands outstretched to steady Connor. Courage trilled lowly in warning, not liking how close he was getting.
"It's okay, I'm fine," Connor interjected, trying to be firm, holding up a hand in emphasis. "I just need a minute…."
Quirin takes a small step back.
He's seen too much to be afraid of a teenager, even one that can poison him or set him on fire on a good day. Even so, it was slightly unsettling how he would be able to poison or burn him at all.
A small part of him understands the reaction; they had a fight, and Connor had been hurt, so of course, Courage would become agitated at any sudden movement. Even so, Quirin was cautious of the bird-of-prey.
They regard each other and Connor, waiting for one or the other to make a move to decide their own next course of action.
Taking a breath, Quirin slowly raises his hands in surrender. He kept his expression calm, non-threatening, despite how infuriating it was to be threatened in his own home.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Connor."
It's not relief or understanding that makes Connor drop his hand, but exhaustion. He slumps forward so much that it looks like he'll fall this time, but he's able to brace himself and push himself back up.
Quirin doesn't move.
It takes a moment for Connor to catch his breath before he pulls himself to his full height, standing as straight as he can, turning to Quirin with guarded eyes. His hands still shake on the table, but he manages to use one to gesture to the archway as if to say 'after you.'
For a moment, Quirin feels like he's younger, watching his brother and sister as they stubbornly refuse help, repeatedly asserting that they are more than capable of handling their problems themselves.
Usually, he'd try to break through that stubbornness. However, he doesn't know Connor enough to push, and if the other is threatening to sic his hawk on him at the slightest movement, he'll have to keep his distance.
Taking the candle, he moves slowly towards the living room, eyes trained on Connor in case he did fall.
To his credit, when he leaves the table, he does manage to make it to the archway. His steps are slow, heavy, and lopsided due to his limping. The hand on his good arm smacks against the frame as he steadies himself, but he doesn't fall.
Quirin frowns as he studies Connor, concern worming its way past his wariness. "Has something like this happened to you before?"
"If you mean getting dragged down a river, no. Dragging myself to bed in pain; not since I was younger." Connor answered breathlessly, not meeting his eyes.
It's late, Quirin reminds himself with a sigh. It's too late to keep pushing questions, especially with Connor looking like he'll fall over from a slight breeze.
Despite that, Quirin can't help but wonder what Connor could be hiding. If his kingdom was in trouble, why would they send him and a group of kids to fight it? (He had to ignore the part of himself that reminded him he was younger than that when he went on his first mission)
He'd said he was here to find answers, but Connor couldn't tell anyone where he was from. Was that true, or could the situation be more complicated than even that? Or, given he was a teenager, was it being blown out of proportion?
Moving down the hall next to the stairs, he turns to find Connor has managed to move further. His bird is now on his shoulder. The stairs sit next to the archway with him standing at the bottom, hands gripping the railing so tightly the wood may just break under him.
He's not watching Quirin, though. Instead, his sky-blue gaze is trained on the darkness of the second floor.
Where Varian is.
Quirin clears his throat loudly before moving closer, Connor's eyes immediately training on him.
"Come on, this way," Quirin said, jerking his head in the direction they needed to go. Pushing his unease to the side, he forces himself to go first, Connor's heavier steps following.
The guest room isn't anything impressive, just a single bed with a nightstand and a dresser pressed into the corner.
Connor doesn't wait for instruction, staggering into the room so he can drop onto the edge of the bed. Whatever fight he had in him had trickled away with every step of their short journey, his arms resting on his knees, body trembling with each ragged breath.
As he moved, his hawk left his shoulder and found a new perch on the headrest.
Despite that, he managed to lift his head, watching warily through dark brown locks as Quirin entered the room slowly.
He's hesitating. He tells himself he's just not trying to make sudden moves as he slowly places the candle on the nightstand.
His gaze catches Connor's eyes, the only sound in the tense air being the crackle of the flame. "Your clothes should be dry in the morning."
"Okay," Connor responded tiredly.
Quirin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he left the room. He turned one last time to watch Connor from the doorway.
"We'll figure this out tomorrow," He said, one hand gripping the door.
Should he close it, or would that be too much?
"Quirin?" He stilled, peering cautiously back into the room. He's worried, for a moment, that Connor may just tip right off the edge of the bed with how much he's leaning over, head so low that he can't see his eyes. "Where are we?"
"Old Corona," He answered, observing Connor's form for even the slightest hint of recognition. "Just outside of the Kingdom of Corona."
The reaction was almost immediate.
Connor's head snapped up in surprise, staring at the wall across from him. He remained still for a moment before he started to calm down, a look of resignation crossing his face before he dropped his head to rest on his hands.
"Okay." He puffed out, suddenly sounding even more tired than before.
He blinks at the one word, a rush of confusion and something akin to deja vu towards the reaction rushing through him. It felt like looking at his younger self on a day when he was exhausted in every way.
Instead of responding, he shuts the door halfway. It's only thanks to his training that he catches the quiet "Thank you" just before he begins to leave. He decides it's best to pretend he didn't hear it.
Making his way upstairs, he peers back over the railing. The light filters from the guest room a moment more before going out.
For a moment, he considers going to bed. It's late, he's tired, and his head feels like somebody has taken a hammer to it several times over.
Varian is probably still up, though. This is proven true when he reaches the top of the stairs to the tower bedroom, finding a pale blue light peeking out from under Varian's door further down the hall.
His shoulders slump as he makes his way towards it.
He knew he could just leave the conversation for tomorrow. He would still get up early in the morning, especially now, to ensure their guest didn't pull a disappearing act or cause trouble, so there would be time to talk to Varian then.
Instead, he knocks on the door, entering when he hears a too awake, "Come in!"
Varian is sitting on his bed, dressed in pajamas, fiddling with a wooden puzzle he bought some time ago. The mechanical limbs attached to his headboard still make Quirin tense, seeing them arched over Varian like spider legs waiting to ensnare their meal, even though one is affixed with a comb.
Perfectly harmless, he reminds himself.
On the nightstand sits a couple of glowing beakers in metal frames, casting the room in a gentle light.
"Is everything okay?" Varian asked before Quirin even stepped inside.
"Everything's fine," Quirin said, lowering himself onto the bed with a grunt. Varian doesn't look relieved, turning his gaze back to the puzzle with pursed lips. "Our… guest will be staying the night. Maybe even longer until I can figure something out."
Varian nods but doesn't say anything, refusing to meet his eyes.
Quirin waits, hoping that his son will at least start the conversation they were about to have, would at least apologize, but instead, he remains quiet. "Varian, what were you thinking? Bringing a stranger here?"
"He was hurt and soaked to the bone!" Varian said, finally looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I couldn't just leave him on the side of the riverbank!"
"I'm not saying you should have," He said quickly, despite a part of himself wishing this was somebody else's problem. "But you should have taken him to Doctor Theo, then got me."
He grips Varian's shoulders, keeping their eyes locked as he tries to convey all the worry crushing him since coming home.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened? What if Connor did attack you on purpose? What if he had knocked you out and set the house on fire? Who knows what he could have done if I hadn't shown up when I did!"
Varian looked down guiltily, aimlessly fiddling with the puzzle.
"I'm sorry, I just, I didn't know what to do," He said, voice soft. "This was the first place I thought of."
Quirin sighed heavily, releasing one shoulder to run the hand through his hair.
As much as he hated to think about it, it probably was best Varian had brought him here. If Connor had attacked Theo, if he'd been sending his hawk after people and throwing chemicals around in the middle of town, everybody would be much more on edge.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it might be better that this happened in the privacy of his home, where he could handle it without the town breathing down his neck.
"I want you to be careful around him, understand me," He said, squeezing Varian's shoulders tightly until their eyes met. "We don't know anything about him, so until things settle down, try to keep some distance. If he's ever hostile with you, threatens you, or even looks at you the wrong way, I want you to tell me immediately, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Quirin holds his gaze, searching for any sign that his words had an impact.
Varian was so bright but reckless, throwing himself into dangerous situations without a pause to consider the consequences. Today was just one more example of a problem that wouldn't seem to go away no matter how many talks they had.
At least with alchemy, Quirin felt he could handle the fallout from whatever failed experiment was planned for the day. He had plenty of practice over the years.
This problem, while familiar, was too unpredictable.
He wanted to believe that Varian understood his worry and would take his advice and remain distant, but he already knew that wouldn't happen. Varian probably had a thousand questions related to Connor's origins, especially since he seemed interested in alchemy like he does.
It wouldn't be long before he tried to find the answers.
"Is he dangerous?" Quirin snapped out of his thoughts at the quiet question. Varian glanced at the door before shifting closer, one hand cupping over the side of his mouth as if worried their guest would magically appear into the room at the slightest mention. "Is he a bandit?"
"I don't know for sure, but I don't believe so," Quirin answered, releasing his shoulders to sit back. He wanted to press the safety issue more but knew they'd just end up talking in circles. "I'm honestly not sure what he is, although he does seem to know alchemy and magic to a degree. He could be dangerous, but not unlike anyone else."
"So, the villagers aren't going to hate Connor when they see him?"
"Not because of what he can do."
There was no helping the rush of annoyance at Varian's sigh of relief.
The amount of concern Varian had towards Connor, while admirable in that his son is a kind soul, is frustrating when he remembers how dangerous Connor is. Not that he wanted Connor to be in danger either, but he'd prefer if Varian would show more concern for himself right now.
"If the people have trouble with him, it will be because of his actions more than anything."
Given his hinted fighting skills and temper, that may prove true in the future. As if worrying about explosive experiments weren't enough, he might have to add the village being terrorized by a teenage swordsman with a hawk to the list.
He sighed heavily, deciding that for right now, he'd just have to worry about it tomorrow. He needed to get to bed before he ended up sleeping here, though the idea was tempting. If he stayed here, he could keep Varian safe if Connor did try anything.
Unfortunately, the bed was not built for the two of them, and the floor would not be kind to his back.
Instead, he ran his fingers through his son's hair before dropping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug that Varian responded to immediately by wrapping his arms around his waist. He squeezes a little tighter, a little longer, to reassure himself that Varian is okay. It helps when Varian doesn't shy away, responding in kind by snuggling into his side.
"Goodnight, son. I'll see you in the morning." He grunted as he got to his feet, hands settling on his lower back to make it pop. Varian peered up at him with a silent question, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Also, you're grounded for the, and I quote, "ball of death" that nearly destroyed Samuel's house. No alchemy for a week."
Varian groaned, flopping down onto his bed. With a lever pull, one of the mechanical limbs came down to pull the blanket over him. "Yes, sir."
That ends this chapter (I don't really have a good intro or outro for this one). Write more soon.
Edit: Sorry if the new dialogue sounds choppy or weird. I swear this is the last time I will change anything.
