I got into this show like two weeks ago… just in time for the finale!

Originally this was written pre-finale and I had hoped to post it as an AU, but after watching it I realized it only needed minor tweaks to make it work, and its all the better for it (still think they should have magically fixed the town because holy crap the property damage is insane!). A tremendous thank you to AmateurWordBender for being so incredibly supporting and a truly wonderful beta! This was originally meant to be a one-shot... it got away from me.

Small Steps

Chapter 1: Cassandra and Varian

"So, what happens now?" Cassandra asked in a low voice, head bowed over her clasped hands.

Varian looked sideways at her, contemplating.

Hours had passed since the eclipse, the defeat of Zhan Tiri, and the last great act of the sundrop and moonstone. The people of Corona returned not long after, having been witness to the sudden, fantastic disappearance of the black rocks. Varian had found Cassandra away from the crowds, away from the castle, looking both stony and brittle. So he sat with her, perched on the edge of a raised stone pathway, their feet brushing the long stretch of green grass sloping towards the commons in the center of the city.

The space now echoed with loud voices remarking on and rejoicing over their victory, but also calculating the great damage done. The roads alone would take months to repair, along with the countless ruined homes and shops. It would take time, certainly, and hard work. And the cost? That was perhaps more scary than the demon was. Men and women tapped wooden beams and traced edges of shattered windows, calculating their meager earnings and the cost of rebuilding.

It was her fault. The people of Corona had suffered for her mistakes, and they would keep suffering as life fought to return to normalcy. The prospective future loomed, terrible and vague, rearing up like a shadow-swathed demon ready to consume Corona and Cassandra's own soul. How could she move forward?

"I might be the wrong person to ask," Varian said at last, lifting his chin to better stare at the fading sun dipping towards the sea, streaking the sky pale pink and blue.

Cassandra hunched further down, clasping her hands tighter. He was right. It was the princess—the king and queen too, she supposed—who would decide her fate. From where she sat she could see Rapunzel walking among her people. She was no longer quite as easy to spot without that bright golden hair, yet the eye still seemed to naturally draw towards her. As she watched, Rapunzel absently reached a hand up to touch the ruffled edges at her neck, apparently still not accustomed to the new weight of it. But it suited her. Even without the magic of the sundrop, she had a natural, brilliant glow.

One more thing Cassandra had been envious of.

"You don't need to be here," Cassandra said suddenly, the words cold and sharp. She didn't trust herself around others—not when she felt like she was made of shards of glass and chips of stone.

Varian shrugged, doing nothing more than idly waggle one foot back and forth, digging the heel into the soft dirt. His presence became a growing itch, and she held back on scratching it and lashing out. She neither wanted nor needed the boy's pity, especially not then, not after all that she had done. But she had to stop getting angry at the world, so she forced herself to lean back and let out a long slow breath, her shoulders clicking from her bad posture. Once she would have cared about that, always holding herself straight and taut. Not anymore.

Now, she was tired. Now, she was powerless. And now she really shouldn't be getting angry at Varian. At least she still had her freedom. So far—surprisingly—no guards had arrived to cuff her and escort her to the dungeons. It was… odd.

"Wait a minute." She quirked an eyebrow, considering Varian again. "You're not here on someone's orders, are you? To make sure I don't escape?"

Varian returned the eyebrow raise. "How would I even stop you? You could just punch me. But I'd much rather you not!" he added quickly.

"Oh, don't give me the innocent act," she said, jabbing a finger towards him. "I know you've always got some alchemy trick hiding up your sleeve."

"Nope, fresh out!" he said, holding his hands up and his arms wide. "Used up everything I had before the fight."

"Oh." She sank down, hunching over her arms again. "Right."

She plucked at her sleeve, the edge slightly frayed. After the battle she had returned to her room, feeling almost-naked in the thin, skin-tight fabric, all that remained of that wonderful black armor. Amidst the wreckage she'd found her old guard outfit: the deep red undershirt and heavy gray tunic, a thick leather belt snug on her waist. She forwent the sword that normally sat heavy on her shoulder, and similarly took no knife, no weapon. It left her vulnerable. So did the clothing itself, but it was a far cry better than her handmaiden dress, and of course armor would have been all wrong, given the circumstances.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do now. Initially she had joined the efforts to clean up—she was no mason and had no skills in carpentry or stonework, but she could push a broom to clean up shattered glass, and could help lift heavy rubble onto carts to be taken out of the city. But after a while it became hard to ignore the mutters and the glares on her back, burning like a midsummer sun. It was safer retreating to where it was quiet.

A new sound rose from the commons, catching both their attention. The loud staccato tune of a tabor drum—rap-tap tap-a-tap-tap—heralded the start of a dance. Almost immediately, it was followed by the high matching sound of a pipe. It was a signal to lay down one's tools, wipe away the day's sweat, and rejoice in their return home. A chattering couple walked past, skirting well around them and heading towards the swelling crowd. Lanterns were lit, and though there was little food to be had—the usual hard bread of barley and rye, bubbling pottage with young leeks and wild chicory leaves—there was apple cider in relative abundance and wine, watered down though it was.

Then the whine of a string instrument rose up on the wind, this one a cheerful fiddle. Knowing the town, a dance would soon erupt like a bright flame from a smoking ember. The townspeople were good about that, going on with their lives no matter what might have overcome them.

Did they even know that the one who had caused all of the trouble was sitting so close? If they knew, would they still be celebrating, or would they be pulling out their pitchforks and torches?

"They'll never forgive me," Cassandra said softly, staring hard at the crowd and tightening her clasped hands until they stung.

Varian frowned. "You don't know that. You can't know until you've given them a chance, believe me."

"I've done too much damage. It's far too late," Cassandra said, gritting her teeth as fury rose up like a tongue of flame. "They should hate me."

The dancing had begun now, sure enough. The loud, reedy whine of a shawm had joined in, adding depth to the thinness of the strings as men and women stepped forward and linked hands, a traditional bourrée with its quick skipping steps and familiar beat. She no longer belonged there.

"But you helped to defeat that demon Zhan Tiri," Varian said, as if she might have forgotten in the past two hours. "You helped save Corona!"

"I was the one trying to destroy it. Look around!" Cassandra waved a hand, not needing to look around herself to see the results of the black rocks that she had created. "Zhan Tiri didn't do this!"

"But—"

"Enough!"

Cassandra was on her feet, her hand slicing through the air as she rounded on Varian. It was impossible to miss the look in his eyes, or the way he startled back.

She winced, squeezing her hands and forcing herself to breathe. "Enough. I don't want to talk about it."

"I think you're going to have to," Varian said softly.

Cassandra clapped her hands over her head and turned away, shutting her eyes and wishing she could shut her ears. Shut the whole world out. It would be nice if she could just disappear—just for a while—so she could work out these feelings in peace. Or, alternatively, bottle them up and shove them deep, deep down so she wouldn't have to bear the shame and the hurt. Then she wouldn't have to think about it, or talk about it.

For so long, she had managed to twist everything in her mind so that she was the victim, that she was doing the right thing. Now… now, it all seemed so petty, so damn selfish and cruel.

Varian was right. She was the villain.

"Cass…"

"No. Look, you don't understand—"

"Are you kidding?" Varian said angrily, his face pinched. He was also on his feet, shoulders squared as if ready for a fight. "I don't understand? Did you forget everything I've done?"

"No, but…" Cassandra groaned, grinding her hand in her hair, unreasonably annoyed. "This is different."

"Really? How do you figure that one out?"

"It's—you were trying to save your father!"

"What does that matter?" he cried, throwing his arms wide. "Who cares why I did it; I nearly destroyed Corona twice! I mean…" He scoffed, his eyes flickering, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Do you really need me to list off all of my crimes?"

"No! But—"

"Because there's a lot!"

"This isn't about you!" Cassandra said, and the words stung as she heard them. But she had done far worse things, hadn't she?

"Yes it is!" Varian shouted, yet there was a quaver in his voice, some strange pain that didn't make sense, until it did.

"How—"

"Cass, I tried to kill you!"

For some moments they held each other's gaze. Varian's were bluer, brighter than before. He was the first to look away.

"I-I haven't forgotten that, okay?" he said, his voice trembling. "I know what I did. I… I tried to—"

Cassandra bit her lip. "Varian, don't—"

"I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen," he said in a stronger voice, still not looking at her.

He was taller than before, Cassandra realized. He had grown, becoming less like the child she had first met: insane, brilliant, with a faint hint of a crush on her. After their time apart, she was seeing just how much he had changed.

But even now, he still seemed so small.

"Varian…"

"I'm not going to make excuses." He hugged his arms tight around himself. "Yeah, I was angry, and yeah, I felt betrayed, but that's not a valid reason. A lot of people got hurt because of me. Including you." He finally looked at her again. "Cass, I'm sorry."

Cassandra backed away, shaking her head. She didn't want to hear this. That wasn't fair .

"No." Cassandra finally managed to pull more than thin air from her tight throat. "You can't say that, not after everything I did to you. You don't get to apologize!"

"That's not how that works!" The spark of a villain still flickered in his eyes at times, and it flickered there now, a sharpness at odds with the rest of him. Or, perhaps, it was his inner strength, a part of him kept hidden from the world. "I'm taking responsibility for my own actions. What you want to do with yours, that's on you!"

"I know that!" she shouted back, fiery hot and burning, and then suddenly cold. "I know," she said again, softer, shutting her eyes tight. Guilt and shame threatened to crush her. It was hard to breathe.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted, feeling like a dumb child. "Apologies can't fix the mess I made. I've done too much. I've hurt too many people." Including you, Varian. "Nothing I can ever do will make up for the pain I caused. I can't… I don't have the right to ask for forgiveness. Not now. Whatever you did, you've worked to make it better. You earned your redemption! You've been helping them this whole time to fight me ! You helped save Corona!"

"So did you!"

Cassandra groaned, rolling her head back. "One good deed won't make up for all of the terrible things I've done."

"Yeah, you're right," he said harshly, surprising her. "Nothing you do will ever change what happened. Believe me, I spent a long time wishing for the same thing, but you can't change the past. Look, I know you did a lot of terrible things—" She really shouldn't feel so offended by that. "I did too. And I've worked hard to get better. To be better. It's not easy. It downright sucks sometimes, and people have long memories. They may not ever forget. But despite all that, it was worth it."

Cassandra only stared. What did she even say to that? She wanted to argue, or fight, or perhaps weep. But she stood, and tried to really listen.

"You wonder what's going to happen?" Varian said, looking evenly at her. "That's up to you."

But what if she didn't trust herself anymore? What was the next step when she had fallen so far? Her reverie was disturbed by harsh, familiar voices.

"What's going on here?"

Cassandra spun around, seeing two guards approaching with spears and hard, suspicious looks. On reflex she jerked her hand up towards her shoulder before remembering that she didn't have a sword and that Corona was no longer her enemy. Nonetheless, her skin seemed to buzz, as she braced herself, forcing herself to straighten, hands loose at her sides. She was not good at being demure or subservient, and that, of course, only annoyed them more.

"What are you two doing?" one guard said, eyeing Cassandra, who stared stonily back, saying nothing. Why were they not immediately seizing her? Did they have orders to the contrary?

"Is she threatening you, boy?" the other guard snapped, looking around Cassandra and staring down at Varian. The 'boy' was intentional.

"What?" Varian said, shocked, even stunned. Then, panicked. "No, no, no! It's fine!" He leapt between Cassandra and the guards, throwing his arms up, both placating and protecting. "We're not doing anything. We're just talking!"

"Is that so?" the other guard said, glaring hard at Cassandra.

"Yeah! We're just… talking." Varian stumbled on the last word, his nerves besting him.

The two guards exchanged a hard look. Why weren't they arresting them? Or at least her?

The cheerful music seemed very far off. Cassandra had forgotten all about it until they stood there in a tense standoff, silent except for the rapid pipe and drum that set the time.

"Fine. We'll let this pass," the first said at last, with some difficulty.

"Best be careful, though," the other guard said in a much different voice, stepping closer to Varian and forcing him to take a step back, nearly stumbling. "You wouldn't want to get too close with a traitor, now would you?"

With a quick glare to Cassandra—a silent threat—they left, speartips glinting in the light of the torches. Varian stood staring out, long after the guards had gone, not moving. She could hear his shaking breaths, could see how his shoulders hitched.

Traitor.

The threat was clear: associate with her, and he would get dragged down as well. He was putting himself at risk, after everything he had done to prove himself trustworthy. Because of her .

He damn well didn't deserve that.

"I'll go," she said, forcing her eyes to the ground.

"Huh?" Varian turned, blinking at her. The terror was still in his eyes, in the hitch of his breath.

'He's right. You shouldn't associate with me." Cassandra made an effort to hold her head up, searching the crowd of dancers. There. Right in their midst were Rapunzel and Eugene, arms linked in the grand circle dance. Even from that distance Cassandra could see the familiar beaming smile, bright as the sun. "You should join them; I'm sure Raps will be happy to see you." She turned to go. "I don't need you."

"Cass, wait!"

Her whole arm went rigid as Varian reached out, catching hold of her wrist.

The last time he had done that…

The night suddenly became much colder. That time in her black tower seemed cruel enough to be a nightmare, except it had been real . She had hurt and imprisoned and tortured the boy at her side. It couldn't have been a nightmare, because he remembered it too—it was clear in the way he paused, the tightness of his fingers.

Quietly, without a word, the gloved hand slipped away, leaving her standing alone in the evening breeze. The music in the square seemed to dim, and all she could hear was her own shallow breath. That, and a whispered memory.

Trust me… becoming the villain isn't the answer.

She hadn't listened to him then. She hadn't wanted to. Instead, she'd pushed him away rather than face what she was truly doing. When he tried to help she had hurt him—badly.

There in the aftermath, standing in the dark night, it seemed there was a chasm between them. Cassandra cradled her arm to her chest, squeezing her wrist tight until it stung, the muscles and bone hard beneath her fingers.

She should leave. It would be best for everyone—for the whole kingdom—if she went away and never returned. It would be best for Varian to not be near her, for so many reasons. But when she looked over her shoulder, just leaving suddenly seemed cruel.

Varian had quietly stepped back. The brightness around him had faded; he seemed to sink into his own shadow. He was still just a kid, despite his hard-earned wisdom. Perhaps still as lonely as she.

She needed to apologize.

"Varian?"

His eyes flickered up, big and blue. They flinched at the corners, anxious.

Cassandra hesitated, pressing her wrist close to her chest. An apology wasn't enough. She couldn't even summon forth the words, because she didn't understand them yet. It didn't feel like she had any right to even say this, but…

"Thank you," she said. "For trying to stop me."

That caught him off guard, and he straightened, his shoulders dropping. Then he smiled, such a warm, genuine smile that she couldn't help but answer with her own. Despite it all, she would be sorry to leave him.

It was horrible, really, how much she would miss all of this.

A cheer rose up from the commons, catching both their attention. A new song, a new dance. Cassandra recognized this one as well. Men and women alternating in a circle, linking hands and moving fast clockwise for a count, and then swiftly reversing, before they all surged inward, and then back out, surrounded by a fair gathering of spectators.

They stood there for a while, watching the crowd as though enchanted, until Varian broke the silence.

"Hey, uh…" Varian bit his lip, shuffling his feet before he gave a broad grin. "Wanna dance with me?"

"What? No. Bad idea." Cassandra pulled away from him, and pulled further into herself. If she went out there… no good would come of that. "You go. I'm sure there's other girls you can dance with," she said, sure her smile was not very reassuring. "Really, you don't have to worry about me."

Varian straightened, looking hurt. "I'm just trying to help."

That irked her. "Why? Why are you helping me? We barely even know each other. We're not friends. You don't owe me anything , so why are you still here?" Was it pity? Was it because he had once had a foolish crush on her?

Varian hesitated, perhaps wondering the same thing. Finally, he said, "Because… I don't think you should be alone right now."

Cassandra bristled at that. "Funny, that is exactly what I want, so why don't you do me a favor and leave me be?"

"I know, and maybe you'll need that time alone to sort things out. I know I did." Varian looked at her, stating it so casually that it was unnerving. He had spent a year alone in prison, and even longer before that, trusting no one and hating the world while he struggled to save his father, entirely alone.

"But back then, through all of it, I just wished I had had… someone." He frowned, chewing his lip and looking pained. "It's not like I needed someone to tell me what I was doing was right, because it wasn't. But I just... I wish I hadn't had to go through all of that alone." He looked up at her, almost pleading. "I figured, well… I didn't want you to go through the same thing."

Once more, he reached out his hand.

After a moment, she stepped forward and gently took hold. Not like she could have said no after that. But once there, the wiser Varian from moments ago simmered away, and he was again a nervous kid. His other hand moved up and down through the air, uncertain whether to lay it on her shoulder, her waist, or take her other hand.

He met her questioning look and let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh, uh… yeah, forgot to mention… I don't actually know how to dance."

Cassandra laughed, shaking her head. Typical. "Good thing I do, then. Watch my feet and copy me." She tilted her head, gauging the music, minutely nodding her head to the beat. "All right. We start moving left—"

"My left or your left?"

"Same thing, we're turning. Usually you dance this in a group, but we'll make do. This dance is called a branle à mener . Four steps to the left, then... on your toes, now to the right…"

He was an enthusiastic learner, at least, and thankfully not so enthusiastic as when teaching Rapunzel. The night fell sweetly around them, slightly damp with falling dew that made Cassandra's bangs stick at times against her skin. The lingering winter chill was gone, and it felt like true spring. It was like old times, before things had fallen apart. It seemed crazy that things could recover after so much, but there they were, dancing like kids without the fate of the kingdom on their shoulders.

"Small steps," she said, watching their feet as Varian stumbled to match hers. Heels clicked together, then out, then crossed one over the other.

"Small steps," he repeated under his breath, brow furrowed in concentration as he hopped twice to keep up.

The words struck something in her, quite unexpectedly. It was like the answer to a question she wasn't sure she had asked.

Dancing there on the uneven grass, under the empty sky with stumbling steps and awkward laughs… it was like cool water against a burning fever. A balm on a burn. She didn't realize how much lighter her shoulders felt, how much easier it was to breathe. Like returning to herself.

She didn't know what might happen, but perhaps she could find a way to move forward.

Small steps.

Author Notes:

Next chapter: Eugene and Cassandra get some one-on-one. They're thrilled, I assure you.

Couple historical/cultural notes…
Apple cider really was a common drink along the western coast of France in previous centuries, but watered down wine was more common for peasants.
A shawm is a reed instrument common in history, and in fact you can see one being played in the Kingdom Dance scene in the movie!
The branle à mener (also called bransle de Poictou) is a French dance originating in around 1500—then called a branle with regional variations—and standardized into sets by 1623. It is both a traditional folk dance as well as a courtly dance, including in the courts of King Louis XIV, and continues to be danced to this day.
Fun fact? Originally the last introduced instrument in this fic was going to be a bodhrán drum, but then discovered it wasn't used in a musical context until the 1960's. The more you know! (guess who did too much unnecessary research into French historical dances)

Thank you for reading!