Disclaimer: I only own this plot, though I would love to own Tangled.

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Chapter One

Agnes Miller sighed heavily as she felt someone tugging on her apron. Over thirty orphans and all of them were pulling her away from the baking at some point or another. Turning to scold the perpetrator, she stopped herself when she saw a pair of large brown eyes staring up at her. Little Eugene Fitzherbert smiled up at her as he held out a worn book.

"Again?" Mrs. Miller asked with a slight smile. "You practically know the book by heart now."

But the small boy—almost three and a half now, Mrs. Miller thought—continued to hold the book out to her, his eyes wide and pleading. He didn't talk much, really, but he had a way of making his wishes known to those around him. Sighing in resignation as she accepted the fact that she simply wouldn't be getting any baking done, Mrs. Miller let Eugene lead her into the small sitting room that also acted as play room for the smaller children. A few of the other children who were around Eugene's age spotted them and gathered around, knowing what was coming. Soon, Mrs. Miller had a veritable army of children surrounding her as she sat down. Smiling a little to herself, she opened the worn copy of The Tales of Flynnigan Rider, the favorite book of all the children.

"There once was a dashing hero, who was the richest man alive, as well as the bravest," she read, holding the book so that the children could see the illustrations. "He saved those who were in trouble, protected the innocent, and wooed all the ladies in the land. His name, was Flynnigan Rider."

All of the children were silent as Mrs. Miller read the story to them. But none of the children were as enthralled as Eugene, who was hanging on to every single word as though they were the most important words in the world. He nestled against Mrs. Miller, looking closely at the illustrations in the book as she read, so that he got a better look before she would turn the book towards the other children so they could also see the pictures. His brown eyes grew wider with delight at each new twist in the story, and Mrs. Miller couldn't help the smile that crossed her face at the sight of him.

"And as Flynnigan gazed into the eyes of the lovely Lady Alice," she read with a chuckle, "he knew that no other woman could ever hold his heart the way that this one did at this very moment." There were sighs from the older girls, who were no doubt hiding in the hall, pretending that they weren't listening, as Mrs. Miller closed the book. "I think that's enough for today," she said with a smile. "Go along now and play."

All of the children except Eugene did so. For some reason, the small boy decided that he wanted to shadow Mrs. Miller with the book clutched tight in his tiny hands. She never would understand why he insisted on following her around, but it made her old heart feel a little lighter when she thought of her little grandchild following her around.

Unlike his mother, who had always been a chatty little thing from the moment she began to realize that she could make sounds that people would react to, Eugene was more inclined to silence than anything else. He hadn't spoken until he was nearly two years old, leading many of the old biddies in town to assume he was a mute, but once he did start speaking, it was in full, though childish, sentences. That had shut the gossips up about him for a time, but not for long. Naturally, he was the subject of a great deal of gossip, as nearly everyone knew exactly who his father was and the circumstances surrounding his birth. Agnes Miller had tried to keep most of the gossip away from where Eugene would hear it, but she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he found out.

Eugene was a smart boy, though he didn't talk much. He had learned how to read several words and sentences already, along with writing his name with all the Es backwards. And then there was his love of books. While he preferred The Tales of Flynnigan Rider to any of the other books in the small orphanage library, Eugene would take down any book he could get his hands on to look through. At this point, he could only recognize one or two words at a time in most of the books, but he insisted on turning the pages and at least looking like he knew what they said, even though he was often simply admiring the pictures. Even the worst of the town gossips had to admit what a charming and intelligent boy Eugene was, though it no doubt pained them to see anything good about the bastard child of Lord Herbert.

That was the part that upset Mrs. Miller the most. No one seemed capable of looking beyond Eugene's parentage, even when he was proving to be quite a different person than his father. No matter how hard she tried, Agnes Miller knew that one way or another, little Eugene would always be a pariah in their small community. So, she let the little boy follow her around, even if he did get under her feet at times.

He didn't even bother to run off and play when there was a sharp knock at the front door of the orphanage. Instead, he just stood at the end of the hallway, his hands still clutching his book tightly as he watched Mrs. Miller go to the door. As she opened the door, Mrs. Miller was surprised to find herself looking at a sobbing young girl who she recognized from the village. Her name was Sarah White, and she had a reputation for being the town beauty ever since the death of young Edith Miller. There was something else about the girl…she was quite clearly with child.

"Oh, Sarah…" Agnes sighed heavily. "Not you too…"

Sarah nodded with another sob. She wasn't much older than Edith had been when she died, perhaps she was even the exact same age—eighteen—and she had lovely gold hair that framed a delicately formed face. Her lovely blue eyes were red and puffy from crying, and in an instant, Agnes Miller had guided her into the orphanage and to the parlor, Eugene still following after her.

"Tell me everything, child," Agnes urged as she poured some tea for the hysterical girl. She had to be at least three months or so along, Mrs. Miller guessed, judging by the fact that her stomach was only now starting to swell.

Sniffling and hiccupping a little as she accepted the cup of tea, Sarah began telling her sad tale in broken sentences. She had always thought Lord Herbert a handsome man—who could not?—and even after what had happened to poor Edith Miller, she had been silly enough to think that she could change his ways. She had been very, very wrong. When she had told him of the child she was bearing, he had all but thrown her out and forbid her from ever coming to his manor again. That was where Sarah had just come from.

All this time, Eugene was listening silently, watching the pregnant girl with wide-eyed curiosity. His book now rested on the table with the tea things as Eugene looked closely at Sarah, his eyes fixed on her stomach. He had never seen a woman who was going to have a baby before. All the babies at the orphanage were brought to Mrs. Miller by grieving relatives of the dead parents, so there were never any pregnant women around the orphans. It was almost like all the women who became pregnant were afraid that being around orphans would lower their chances to survive childbirth. Sarah didn't seem to mind, though, smiling a little at Eugene.

"This is Edith's?" she asked in a croaking voice, holding out a hand to the boy.

Mrs. Miller nodded sadly as she watched Eugene accept Sarah's hand with a small smile of his own. "Yes…this is Eugene."

Sarah's smile widened a little as Eugene took a step closer, still looking down at her stomach. "He's a handsome lad," she said quietly. "My baby is going to be your brother or sister," she added in a soft voice, squeezing Eugene's hand.

Neither of the women were certain if Eugene understood what Sarah had told him, but something in the boy seemed to change as he looked up at Sarah. His small smile grew into a wide grin before he put a hand on Sarah's stomach, seemingly understanding that there was someone inside there. As she watched her little grandson, Agnes Miller was certain that all would be well.