Yeeah, I've finally uploaded this chapter! Angst, here we come! :)))

The writing of this key moment has been oddly facilitated by good old real life (sorry for the irony). I'm struggling at work at the moment, but the upside is that I've made the connection between the emotions the situation induces and my own deeply rooted fear of abandonment. Like Varian would say: "Progress"!

Doesn't mean that being conscious of it solves the problem. There's still a long road ahead.

So writing this chapter has been... therapeutic, I think. At least it's a start. And you guys are getting a chapter that comes from within, and I hope you'll just want to hug Varian as much as I did :)

To Angel who commented on Chapter 26, that was very touching. Thanks for sharing, and I'm glad to know that you connected with Varian at that point.

CHAPTER 101

Almost imperceptibly, Frederic straightened his back and shoulders from his sitting position on the lavish throne. He had been trained to be a King since he was born, so he instinctively knew how to not show weakness, and how to appear more confident and powerful instead. But he couldn't stop a primal reaction from his body as a shiver wracked the bottom of his stomach. For a split second, the King of Corona felt like a kitten bristling in the face of danger.

Frederic was torn between letting Varian a chance to say it all or stop the whole ordeal altogether. He was the King, he had that power. Go ahead, use his bellowing voice and send him back to the dungeon, no questions asked.

But being the King – and the adult too - also meant taking responsibility. Frederic hated to admit he was not the best of rulers at that. But now… now with the damage of his decisions laid bare, right in front of him, embodied by a skinny, pale child, he knew what he had to do.

He briefly thought of his daughter, who was now so far away after coming back to him for only a year, and for whom he wanted to be a better king. A fair and true king.

So he remained silent and watched the boy in shackles take a deep breath. In her own seat, Arianna kept her lips pursed as well, trying to hide her own anxiety, her intense gaze never leaving her protégé.

Varian was shaking from head to toe. He couldn't help it. He knew he needed to calm down and settle a necessary distance between his emotions and himself. His face and hands felt oddly numb. It took every ounce of courage within him to pull himself together and continue. When he spoke up, he slowly and blankly stated the steps that lead to his tragic downfall, as if it happened to an entirely different person.

"The persecutions from the rumors were only the beginning. Soldiers eventually came hounding me down for the scroll in my own home. I hid from them… learned to be on high alert 24/7… never letting down my guard. I constantly had the impression they were going to barge in at any moment and take from me what little I had left. I remember waking up randomly and repeatedly at night, shaken by nightmares, most of the time. Getting food was also risky. And I spent every waking moment making experiments with one goal in mind : understand the rocks, the amber, and set my father free. The possibility of my body giving in before I could fix my mistakes was gradually overwhelming as days and weeks went by."

Behind Varian, the King shifted a little on his seat. He remembered when his own fears got the worst of him and when all he could think of was his wife and his daughter. Even the Kingdom he had sworn to protect during his coronation came second. He remembered giving the order to retrieve the scroll from Quirin's house, and how he buried his head in the sand about the consequences as long as his family was safe.

Was he that different from the young alchemist in shackles?

It was blindingly clear to him now. The boy had already lost his father and was rejected by everyone around him. And he, the King of Corona, who should have stepped in and protected the teenager, not only as a subject and an orphan, but also as his friend's son, ignored his need for help and trampled his feelings, even crushed his spirit in the end.

His heart in his throat, he didn't dare turn towards his wife, who had been the first to see beyond the image of the monster they had all assumed the kid was. She had every right to blame her husband and King, both for what he had done to Varian and what he had failed to do for him.

"All that time," Varian continued, "I was convinced that planning, plotting and overpowering my enemies would be the key to get my father back. Well, I was bitterly disappointed when that didn't work, and I could only watch as the Princess was happily reunited with her own family."

At that, Arianna felt her blood freeze in her veins and shame filled every part of her body. She had been so relieved that Rapunzel was safe at that moment that she hugged her family without a thought for the boy next to them. Next to her.

As a result of devotedly taking care of Varian since his arrest, Arianna had gotten to know him quite well. It was painful for her to realize that, far from the bubbly, excited scientist Rapunzel had first told her about, lying under the surface was undeniably a broken child.

Something in her mother's heart guessed that Varian's present trauma was only the tip of the iceberg. She could feel it in his eyes when they held a grave look, in his body language when he was emotionally upset, in his voice when he felt small and unsure. Such behaviors could only be rooted deep in the past.

From what she remembered of Quirin, and of his interactions with his son when they came to the capital when Varian was little, the man was not exactly the nurturing type. Oh, he was raising his son all right, making sure he had food and clothes, teaching him right from wrong and struggling to answer his many, many questions about the world and how things work. And trying to keep him safe, which, in the case of Varian, was an evergoing challenge.

But there was something missing, something off in their relationship. The man didn't quite understand his son, and his eyes were more often than not filled with embarrassment.

Arianna had no doubt that Quirin loved his son more than anything. It was just hard for him to show it and truly connect with his son.

And Varian grew up a love-starved child.

Her heart sank as her thoughts led her to that emptiness deep inside that must be impossible to grasp for Varian. After all, how could he understand that he was missing something that had never been there?

How distraught he must have felt, abandoned by everyone, neglected and ignored again in an already dire and unfair situation… Now the unfolding of the events made total sense to her. It could explain why he went into overdrive and threatened the royal family when he was alone and scared, sacrificing everything he used to be just to regain a little bit of control over his life. And no wonder that, as she tried to reach out to him, he either pushed her away for fear that she would leave him when he would start to get attached, or clung desperately to her, begging for her to stay with him and craving her love and care.

She blinked back a few tears as she heard Varian's voice rise again in the court room, and it was trembling this time.

"That's when I completely lost my grip and nearly killed..." his voice trailed off as he couldn't fight off the hurricane of emotions rising within him, the anger and hurt and sadness way too vivid in his young mind. "I nearly killed many people that night… I wanted them to suffer as much as I had so , so badly..." His hands clenched into fists, his whole body rapidly tense. "I… I don't know how I can live with that," he admitted, tears welling up in his eyes again."

Subconsciously, his hand moved up and rested on his left arm. Even with through the thick gloves he was wearing, he could feel the healing cuts and scratches. He lowered his eyes, and shrank at the memories of his darkest moments, when summoning physical pain was the only way to pull through a wave of panic, of rage, of fear. Those marks were still there and would heal but probably leave scars, an eternal reminder that he survived the pain but also how easy it could be to spiral down that path again. Same went for the worst actions he committed.

"I made awful choices, and terrible, terrible things. I… I know I don't deserve compassion for that, let alone forgiveness, but I….." Varian's throat was so tight he found himself gasping for air. "I am sorry."

His voice cracked on those last three words, and the floodgates opened. A flow of tears streamed down his face as he was sobbing openly. There were not the hot and uncomfortable tears of rage and fear he had shed over the last months though. No, they felt cool on his cheeks, like a clear, lively waterfall that would take away dirt and impurities.

I am sorry… He had finally said it, and as the words passed his lips, he realized how much of a long, long overdue it was. Not only regarding the people he had hurt, but first and foremost for himself. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders, that the knots in his stomach became suddenly untangled. That he was breathing again.