Hey, long time no see... or write ! Good news are, I'm officially done with my old place, and managing only one place to live will be so much easier ! And hopefully, I can get back to my hobbies and passion for Tangled :))

Thank you all for not giving up on this story and being still there ! I have expanded a bit on Varian's mental state, which is not helped by his physical condition... I hope it's not boring, but it's been quite some time since I've written the former chapter, and it also helped to getting my head into the story !

WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS, INCLUDING BLOOD, INJURIES AND SELF HARM TRIGGERS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ, OR MORE IMPORTANT, IF YOU THINK IT CAN UPSET YOU, DON'T READ EITHER !

You have been warned.

CHAPTER 74

Tight angry fists smashed the mirror with such desperate strength that a star-like shaped up immediately on the once flawless surface, dividing the sneering reflection into multiple images of itself, broken and overlapping. Varian saw its sassy grin, still there, still mocking and taunting him, piercing his mind and soul.

The boy sucked in a deep breath, his teeth clenched hard as a fresh wave of rage washed through his body, rose his fists in the air and slammed them down again with all his might and a wild roar.

The mirror shattered into dozens of pieces, sharp, uneven shards that took a purple color and now littered the floor around Varian's feet in a heap that was bigger that it should have been.

Varian…

Short, raspy breath caused less by the physical effort than the swelling of anger in his chest, Varian looked where his reflection was standing a second before. In its stead was a large silhouette dressed in crimson red. His father, within arms' reach, was looking back at him, his expression unreadable and his body very still.

"Dad ?" Varian uttered under his breath. Shaken by the sudden appearance, the boy lost his balance, his legs no longer supporting his light weight. As he tried to stay on his feet, sharp edges of the shards sliced the tender skin on his legs.

"Ah !", Varian cried out, desperately trying to support himself, torn between looking down to find a stable position and close his eyes not to see the blood that started to bead in multiple places along the cuts. He shot his head up to meet his father eyes, desperately prompting him without words to come and get him out of this mess. But the bulky man was still standing there, a frown dawning on his face.

"Dad ! Help !", he cried out, but panic seized him and he lost the little coordination that could have kept him up and steady. He fell forward on his knees, his hands and forearms digging into the heap of glass and stinging all over instantly. Varian realized in horror his skin was bare. Where were the thick, protective gloves he never took off ?

Varian…

While his legs remained trapped in the countless chips of glass, hidden from his view, Varian's reaction was to immediately raise his hands to look at them. His eyes told him what his aching body already knew : so many welts covered his hands and arms that he couldn't count them. They drew red lines, overlapping and crossing all over his pale skin, and they grew redder with each passing second as they were weeping scarlet blood.

"Dad ?", Varian ventured in a trembling voice, barely able to look away from the pool of red before his eyes. Nothing came, not a soft word nor a comforting hand on his shoulder. Eyes wide and mouth agape with panic, Varian was shaking all over as he looked up from beneath his dark bangs with watery eyes.

Varian…

Scorn pierced his soul and hurt him more than any of his wounds. He had seen disappointment in his father's eyes before, but never… like this. Without a sound, they were yelling at him ; "What have you done, Varian ? How could I ever be proud of you ?"

"Dad…" the boy whimpered, close to fainting.

His father's lips never parted, but Varian could hear his words as if the voice came from his own head.

"You're not my son. You no longer have a father, and it's all your fault."

With that, Varian watched as the large figure turned around with heavy shoulders and walked away. Varian reached out a bloody hand but he felt a heavy cuff of metal holding it back.

"DAD ! DAD ! DA-AA-D !"

"VARIAN !"

*slap*

The shattered mirror was gone in an instant, and so were the glass shards around him. Instead, the boy suddenly found himself sitting on his bed, screaming his father's name one more time. Suddenly, the Queen's pale and worried face was close to his, and she was holding his upper arms to steady him. He struggled to catch his breath and found he couldn't speak. His face was wet and his left cheek was stinging.

"Varian…" the Queen said softly. "It's ok, everything's fine, it's me. You're safe. It was a dream, Varian. Just a dream."

Varian's chest felt like it was about to explode, although he couldn't tell if it was an infection in his lungs due to pneumonia or the emotional overload.

"I'm sorry about your cheek, Varian. I tried everything to wake you up. You…."

She trailed off as the kid's hazy and wild eyes made her change her mind. Now was not the time to tell him how he was totally out of control, crying a flood of tears and flinging himself from one side to the other in his sleep. Ruddiger had been kicked off the bed in the process and his boy's screams had scared him to such an extent that the chubby animal was still half hidden under the small table opposite Varian's bed.

"I hope it's not too painful" she said simply as she laid her hand on his smarting cheek. Varian's skin didn't feel as warm as before, but that was probably because he was drenched in cold sweat. "Are you ok ?"

Alarmed, Varian flinched at her touch. Not out of daze or confusion. Nor out of rebellion or anger, he was way beyond that. No, he couldn't let her touch him. He couldn't let her feel how much he was shaking. The visions from his nightmare kept swirling at the forefront of his mind, fear and guilt stabbing his heart repeatedly. He couldn't talk, he couldn't breathe, and he felt so overwhelmed by emotion that he felt that lurking, ugly urge to feel some sort of physical pain instead of this mental torture sneaking in again.

Stifling a cry of anguish, he scrambled back out of her immediate reach, his back hitting the headboard in his haste. On the other hand, his left arm wouldn't go any further because of the metal cuff. Cornered, the boy turned his back to the Queen, brought his knees to his chest and flung his right arm over his head, hiding his face. A futile, childish attempt to make her leave him alone, but everything in his body language betrayed his inner turmoil.

Seconds passed, with Varian's laboured breathing the only sound to be heard. Then the teen felt the mattress collapse a bit next to him, as if somebody was placing there something a bit heavy with great care. A soft croon followed, along with a small paw on his thigh. Next, he registered that something soft and warm was draped over his shoulders and back. The skin on the back of his neck recognized the silky velvet he used as a shawl earlier.

"I'll give you a minute, Varian," Arianna said in a calm tone, "a few, actually. I'll heat up some broth for you, and I would like you to try and eat some."

Arianna knew better than invade Varian's personal space when he was clearly not ready. She turned around and went for a fat tureen on the table.

Calming down a little, Varian lifted his head slowly and watched her as she poured the broth in a saucepan so she could heat it up in the fireplace. Respectful of his privacy, she didn't cast a single glance to him.

The Queen's words had come out like a statement, not a request. She was set on getting him to fill his stomach, and he didn't feel like it if he were to be honest, yet he mostly felt grateful for her to grant him some air for now. Even though he knew her well enough to assume she would pry later about his nightmare, like she always did.

His eyes fell on the concerned eyes of his raccoon. He tried to smile, but feared he would start to cry again if he did so. He simply stretched his legs so Ruddiger would be able to climb on his lap. Once the hairy, soft hairball huddled against his friend, making him feel safe and warm, Varian let his free hand leave his shaggy head to pet him.

The Queen was now stirring the broth quietly over the fire, the soft, regular sound of the spoon drawing circles in the saucepan almost soothing. Varian let his head rest again the wooden headboard of his bed. He started into space, and there could have been anything but the dull stone wall facing him and he wouldn't even notice it. He felt tense all over, his hand on Ruddiger already completely still as he got lost in his thoughts. He knew he would get no sleep before long because of the memories of his nightmare.

It was an awful vision, seeing all that blood dripping from his arms and legs, thick and warm. He hated and recoiled from blood and could even remember registering pain in his dream, and yet, he yearned to feel it for real. He longed to see the red liquid swell and flow down from fresh cuts. He needed the rush he would feel in his body, proving he could be stronger than fear, stronger than pain. It didn't make sense, it didn't feel right, but he couldn't help it. In a twisted way he failed to understand, the stinging on his cheek felt almost good, a welcome distraction somehow, although it was fading now. He only had a few more seconds to focus on that dull ache before it would be gone, leaving him empty and vulnerable to his fears.

He grabbed a fistful of the bedsheet in his hand and bit his lower lip in frustration. His eyes were glistening from tears threatening to swell. He couldn't do anything to relieve the pain the way his body and mind demanded and had no clue how to deal with it otherwise. He wouldn't allow himself to cry either, no matter how badly he wanted to. Before he knew it, he felt a metallic taste in his mouth. Had he bitten his lip that hard ?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You know what I think, Phil ?" Frederic said after a moment of silence. "I think Varian needs your presence and your support, more than ever." The King held out his hand, offering Phil to take it to stand. The young guard stretched his own hand meekly and it was met by a firm grip that hauled him up and drove him to sit on the edge of the bed. Frederic sat down as well, and the two men would have been at eye level, equally seated if Phil hadn't kept a hunched posture, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes looking away like the dust in the corner of his room was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I know there is no reason why you should believe me," the King continued in a soft voice that Phil had rarely heard. "That's why you should have a talk with Varian."

"I doubt he'll want to listen to me," he merely scoffed, not caring If he was sounding rude to his Royal guest. "You know how stubborn he can be." At that, Frederic couldn't hold back a light chuckle. "How did I come to this ?", Phil went on, more to himself than to the King. "How did I even let Hans lay a finger on him ?"

"It sounds like I need another conversation with this Hans. And as for you, young man," he added as he rose, "I would like you to stop beating yourself up and take matters into your own hands. You have three days to rest, get some sleep and clear your head. I will speak to the Queen and will make sure you will be reassigned to Varian's watch."

If the boy makes it, he thought to himself.

"And If I may, you have no time to lose. You wouldn't want Varian to see you like this, would you ?" he added as he gestured to Phil's slumped frame and unkempt hair.

Without giving time for Phil to reply, Frederic turned and stepped out, leaving the door wide open and allowing a ray of sun to come in. Phil stayed frozen for a minute, his mind trying to process what just happened. Debating with himself, his eyes darted from one side to the other as his thoughts raced.

Then, he finally straightened his back, stood up and went for the window. Shutters creaked angrily as they were flown open, welcoming the daylight even though Phil's eyes hurt and squinted into the brightness.

Time to shave, brush his hair and let Colette know he was dying to play with her in the sunlight.