The year's Sol Invictus Day celebration was going to be a real event.
It was to be a coming- out of sorts for Rapunzel; for the first time, the King and Queen had invited foreign guests—family, allies—to attend Corona's Sol Invictus Day festivities. They'd even invited Eugene to stay in the castle for the duration.
"You must! There will be no work for you in the week before and after—"
"—And just think of all the commuting in the cold you'll be saved from!"
Rapunzel had not warned him of this the way she'd warned him before her father had asked him to come be of use in the palace instead of continuing his atonement project.
"You can meet Rapunzel's cousins!"
He already knew that Rapunzel was becoming visibly buoyant at the prospect of cousins in her seat next to him at the table.
"We'll put you in a room separate from all the other guests."
Other guests? Was he different from them?
"That way you can have some peace and privacy away from the celebrations."
The King and Queen were really learning how to make him blush.
So, for the first time since he'd brought Rapunzel back to the Kingdom, he was to stay in Corona's castle.
Eugene arrived when he was invited: a week before Sol Invictus Day. He locked up his rooms behind him, told the landlady not to wait up for him, and allowed his things—clothes, Sol Invictus gifts—to be packed into the carriage the palace's steward had sent to collect him. But still, he was the first to arrive.
"No guests yet?" he asked after kissing her on the forehead in the grand foyer.
"Not for a few more days."
So he kissed her on the mouth.
Rapunzel exploded with enthusiasm for the leisure time the holiday allowed for. The day after Eugene arrived she took out the fine paints hours of lessons had kept her from; she took up a place in the kitchen to make spinach puffs from a recipe book she'd found at a stand on her way to an appointment at the university; and she read aloud from the pulpy book of pirate stories her parents wrinkled their noses at but did not expressly forbid, while Eugene slipped in and out of a doze.
Drifting out of his nap, he reached an arm out to grab a Rapunzel-made spinach puff.
"Don't move too much." Rapunzel stopped her reading mid-sentence. "You'll disturb her."
Eugene opened his eyes, already directed at Rapunzel, and noted Pascal clinging to the top of her head, his eyes narrowed directly at his chest. He was only beginning to try to remember how he might have fouled the frog when Rapunzel nodded her chin at him.
"You both look so precious."
By some instinct he looked down at himself, finding the familiar tailless cat curled up against him. It snuggled more closely into him and gave him an ugly look before closing its eyes.
"Huh. I don't think it's ever been this close to me before."
Rapunzel smiled. "It's taking advantage of your body heat."
"At least someone is."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Listen, I'm going to skip out for a few hours tomorrow. That okay?"
"Yes." She looked down at the book in her lap, and Eugene closed his eyes, relaxing again. "May I… ask where you're going?"
"The orphanage."
"Oh."
"I won't be long."
"Eugene, don't worry—"
"It's just that it's a bad time to not visit." His eyes began to close again; the fire a few feet away was flickering soothingly, and the cat at his chest was purring.
"Maybe I could come with you?"
Eugene found it fundamentally amusing when she asked permission for anything within the boundaries of her own kingdom. He pretended otherwise, though, because he knew he wouldn't do the same thing if he were in her place. She was special that way.
"Sure. I bet everyone'll be glad you're there."
"I haven't been in ages."
"They'll probably forget all about me, they'll be so excited."
"Shush, you." She leaned over to give him a lopsided kiss, carefully avoiding the cat—though he wouldn't have cared for the moment if she'd shoved it away if she wanted the space next to him instead.
"Are you going to keep reading?"
"Not out loud—I'm just putting you to sleep."
"Sorry."
"And here I thought you'd like this, what with all the daring swashbucklers. It's really Flynnagan Rider-esque, don't you think?"
"I'm not Flynnagan Rider."
"I didn't…."
Shit. Ten better ways to say what he meant came to mind immediately, but he could tell by the set of her eyebrows that it was too late."
"Hey, I'm sorry." He reached out and touched her knee. "Will you keep reading? I like listening."
The trip to the orphanage the next day became two-fold once the King and the Queen found out about it. He wasn't just coming around to make sure nothing needed repairing or to help serve lunch—he and Rapunzel were going to supervise the delivery of the King and Queen's Sol Invictus Day gifts to the children. While he knew that they sent blankets, toys, and books for Sol Invictus every year, even before they knew him—which was a nicer gesture than the landowner near the orphanage he grew up in had ever made at any time of the year—he still couldn't think of it as any more than a gesture.
Sure, he knew better than to think that Rapunzel's parents could afford to get so close to every needy person they supported in their kingdom. But it was unsettlingly difficult for him not to take the orphans' treatment personally. And they made it very hard to resent them when they did things like invite him to the castle earlier than anyone else, pardon his crimes, sometimes address him as 'son', and let him spend copious amounts of time with their daughter.
Eugene didn't mean to lose track of Rapunzel among all the children. But between wrangling a few of the older kids to help him carry the blankets into the dormitories and making sure the beadle knew the other things weren't to be unwrapped from their decorative paper until Sol Invictus Day, Rapunzel slipped from his elbow to a group of little girls and shy boys, then out of sight.
He finally found her in the meal hall, her attention being vied for from at least three directions while she held her own handkerchief to the bloody nose of an eight-year-old.
It didn't faze him that the kids didn't acknowledge him until he raised his voice above theirs as he deftly took the boy from Rapunzel to examine his nose as he spoke.
"What do you all think you're doing? There's one of her and thirty of you—take her outside for a game or something."
Besides giving him time to sort out the bloody-nose-boy, he knew Rapunzel would be thrilled to take part in a game. It was something she asked him about from time to time, and he'd long since exhausted his knowledge of cards, found he was too impulsive to beat Rapunzel (or Pascal) at chess, annoyed the palace's staff with their games of hide and seek.
When he made it outside to the narrow yard the kids played in, he found Rapunzel engaged in some sort of running, goal-scoring game—the kids had invented a few variations—so enthusiastically that she'd removed her long coat, whether to run more easily or from becoming overheated he wasn't sure. He thought the kids should put up a struggle over who should get him on their team because of his size, but he was sent without any fuss to the team Rapunzel wasn't on, to even out the spread of adults. Psh, now they decide to be mature and reasonable. It was a nice setup, though, as it gave Eugene opportunities to show off how quick he was—albeit only in comparison to children—and to get extra close to Rapunzel while he tried to block her from passing the weighted, hide-wrapped ball to one of her teammates.
By the end she was rosy-cheeked, out of breath, and a winner. Eugene's team groused about how he had caused the loss by allowing too many passes, but he tolerated it because it was true—seriously, though, did they expect him to swipe the ball right out of a six-year-old's hands? It didn't matter; the sun was getting low in the sky and the kids had to listen to him when he told them it was time to go inside. He and Rapunzel walked behind them aiming for the spot of ground she thought she'd thrown her coat on, and he grasped her cold fingers while they walked.
"I bet," he lifted the coat of the ground after stepping on an errant sleeve, "your parents would not approve of you running around so exposed."
She stuck her arms out so he could help her into the thing.
"Am I exposed?" She smirked at him over her shoulder.
"Well, yeah." He turned her around gently by her shoulders. "Look at your hands—" he lifted them to his lips for a quick kiss—"can you even feel your fingertips? And your neck—" he moved the backs of his fingers down its length to the square of bare skin above the neckline of her dress—"don't you know you're supposed to keep that covered?"
"Why?" She said it softly, like she'd asked it absently, only to fill a gap where she knew a response was needed.
"Because—because." He hadn't moved his hand from the skin below her neck. It wasn't as smooth as he'd felt it before; there was some resistance on the surface, probably of perspiration from the game. He thought of what other things they might do that would make her skin sweat.
A clatter came from inside the building, and it snapped the intense trance he felt he'd been locked into while touching Rapunzel. As if she also realized that they were awfully close to one another for being in a public space, she broke her eyes from his too.
"And your nose is all pink." He touched his lips lightly to her nose for a few seconds, feeling her lean into their contact on her toes.
He was glad at the moment that Pascal had stayed behind at the palace.
Once the King and Queen's close friends and distant relatives arrived, Eugene very seldom found himself alone—or even close to—Rapunzel aside from dinners, at which he was sometimes able to snag a seat next to her before one of her giddy cousins did. There was also no more staying up late in the sitting room after her parents had gone to bed, Pascal had made himself scarce underneath a blanket, the fire had dwindled to mere embers, and the door had been quietly shut against any of the wandering servants or incompetent guards.
No, Rapunzel's attentions were taken up very thoroughly by the several ladies now staying in the palace. Besides her two cousins—both slightly older and too simpering for Eugene's taste—there were older women more closely acquainted with her mother. They all spent much of the day together doing…things Eugene could not fathom. Aside from the fact that he was sure men were unwelcome in their exclusive activities, Eugene was taken in hand by the King, who kept Eugene engaged in all the very masculine activities he and his company had planned. He was no less flattered by the preferential treatment than he was as he learned what wealthy men did to amuse themselves.
Someone suggested a foxhunt in the afternoon, but most didn't seem too enthusiastic about going out into the woods in the chill winds that had taken hold for the season. This disappointed Eugene, who thought it would have been great fun to force Maximus away from his guard duties to take him out on a pleasure hunt. The two afternoons they spent in together were thus reduced to loosely-organized quarterstaff sparring—which Eugene unreservedly joined—gambling—which Eugene felt obligated not to participate in in front of the King—and drinking from the King's fine stock.
Earlier than usual on the morning of Sol Invictus Day Eugene was a wake, ready to venture all the way to Rapunzel's bedroom door to wake her up before anyone had a chance to snatch her away for breakfast or some group activity or another. It was quite a thing for Eugene, who had no better luck sleeping in the palace than he did in his own rooms. He cringed as he put on clean, cold clothes and washed up with the frigid water from the basin in the room. Would Rapunzel mind being roused so early? The sun was only just beginning to creep up over the watery horizon outside his window.
He tucked the tulle-wrapped gift meant for her against him and departed into the near-dark of the hallway outside. After only a few steps he heard the soft pad of Rapunzel's own footfalls before she rounded a corner, candle in hand.
"Oh, good!" She was whispering even though no one else was sleeping in any of the rooms in his corridor. "I thought I was going to have to jump on your bed to wake you up this early."
Damn.
"Oh, yeah? Well why are you up so early?"
"Reasons." Pascal peeked out from under the sash that was wound around her shoulders to match her haughty expression.
"Uh huh. What're you coming to get me for, then?"
"So I can give you your Sol Invictus gifts!" Pascal chirped as she lurched forward to take his free hand. "Isn't that mine you have?"
"Yes, but you can't have it until I say so."
"Put your coat on; I want to go outside."
"Really?"
"Yes, Eugene. I'm going crazy being cooped up in here when it's so beautiful outside."
"But it's—"
"Please come with me, Eugene. Look—" she lifted the hem of her dress above her ankles—"I've been wearing my boots all morning so I'd be ready."
He wrinkled his nose at her, knowing full well what it would mean to keep her from going out if she wanted to. And whether she'd been sure she'd be able to get him to come with her or if she intended on going out even if she had to do it by herself he wasn't sure—but a basket and two furry blankets were already waiting for them by side entrance she led them to.
The wind off the water was strong even in the morning, but the spot against the wall of the castle, overlooking the water and the sunrise was somewhat calmer.
"Spread one of the blankets out so we can sit on it."
"You mean like a picnic."
"Yes, exactly like a picnic!"
"Is that my gift? A breakfast picnic?"
"Shush-shush—sit."
They sat down together against the chilly stone wall and Rapunzel threw the second blanket over their legs, heaving the basket she'd brought out in front of them. She reached inside the basket and spent a few moments working at something Eugene couldn't see. Then she straightened up.
"Ta-da!" She pulled her arms out of the basket, holding a buttered slice of bread and a delicate ceramic cup of tea. "Breakfast picnic! Happy Sol Invictus Day, Eugene!"
"Wow! Thanks, babe!" He took the bread and the cup from her and kissed her before leaning back into the spot on the wall that was warming to his back. "You're going to have some, too, right?"
"Yeah, but start eating while I get mine ready."
He watched the way the sun cast a pale orange glow over her while clutched the warm cup to his chest and bit into his bread.
"Hey—this is still warm."
"Of course it is; it only came out of the oven an hour ago?"
"What? You made this today?"
"Of course. It wouldn't be as delicious if I made it earlier."
"You didn't have to do that, Rapunzel."
"Don't whine. Eat. Besides, the hard part was getting the tea out here without it spilling!"
"Are these cranberries?"
"Yes." Rapunzel spoke through a mouthful of bread in a very un-princess-like fashion. "I dried them last Fall."
"Mm."
"I'm not going to lie—this was kind of for me, too. I don't have time to cook anymore."
"You've got other important things to do anyway."
"Yeah. Besides, I don't think the kitchen staff likes it very much when I'm in their way."
"Then you should tell them to get out."
"Why? They're the ones who work there. And they don't barge into my parents' meetings when I'm shadowing them, or into the library when I'm studying."
Eugene rolled his eyes at her while he chewed. "Come on. You've got to know those're two totally different situations."
"Not in principle." She brought out another slice of cranberry bread for each of them, as well as a small piece for Pascal to work on where he'd buried himself underneath the blanket in between them. "So… are you going to give me my present?"
"Oh, yeah." He pulled her gift out from under the corner of the blanket where he'd placed it to protect it from the chill. He held it out in the hand that wasn't holding his tea cup and puffed out his chest to make her laugh. "Happy Sol Invictus Day, Princess."
"It's beautiful, Eugene." She ran a hand over the lavender tulle wrapping.
"That's not the gift."
"I know, but I'm still keeping it." She pulled the thin ribbon Eugene had tied himself on the top and the tulle fell away to reaveal—
"Brahmi! It is, isn't it?"
"Uh, I thought it was called Bacopa."
"Yes, it's called that, too." She was holding the small, fragile plant at eye level, inspecting its fronds. "It's so rare in this part of the world, Eugene. Where did you get it?"
"Eh, I found a guy."
"I can't believe it! How did you even know I wanted one?"
"I saw all the notes you made about it once when we were in the library. And didn't you go to the University's greenhouse to see if they had one?"
"I did!"
"So you like it?"
"I love it!"
Eugene pursed his lips at her.
"Don't make that face; I love you, too." Rapunzel pulled him into a kiss by the back of his head and he smiled into it.
He tried to find a way to hold her, but found it difficult since she was still holding her plant and he was still holding a half-full cup of tea. He set it down on the ground next to him, unsure—and unconcerned about—whether it had stayed upright, and eased the small clay pot out of Rapunzel's arm and away from where she sat. As he lifted her onto his lap she opened her mouth to his and their tongues met in the middle; he moaned at the overwhelming feel of her after days of being close to her, but not close enough.
But—seeming to know exactly what was going on and, of course, not wanting any part of it—Pascal startled them both as he flew, screeching and pink with embarrassment—from under the blanket onto the stone wall.
"Oh, Pascal, I'm so sorry!" Rapunzel held both her hands out to him. "I forgot you were under the blanket. Please come back—you'll freeze if you stay on the wall."
Still pink, he crawled into Rapunzel's hands and onto her shoulder where she lifted her sash up for him.
Eugene looked away so as to more easily resist giving him the evil eye; he knew the lizard hadn't done anything on purpose. In fact, he was usually good at making himself scarce when things he didn't want to be witness to started going down. Which didn't happen as often as Eugene would have liked, but still.
"Sorry."
"No problem." He pulled the blanket so it covered her on her new spot on his lap. The sun had made it all the way over the horizon, but he could barely feel it on his face. Some Sol Invictus Day. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"I've got something else for you."
She smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could say anything—
"But it only half-counts because you've seen it before. But I really want to give it to you." Eugene reached all the way into his vest to pull out a small drawstring pouch; he awkwardly upended it into his other palm and brought the ring he'd tried to give to Rapunzel twice before into her line of sight. "Marry me?"
Her eyelids fluttered several times; she took several breaths, and her mouth opened and closed as if she could not decide whether or not she wanted to speak. Even though Eugene felt the now familiar sense of crashing and burning that came with his proposals to her, he wouldn't look away.
"Hey."
She met his eyes, though she looked like it pained her to do it.
"I love you. So much. You know that, right?"
She nodded.
"Then what's wrong?" Both times before she'd offered explanations that seemed reasonable—even if they were still disappointing—to Eugene afterward ("I'm still so young! What's the rush?"; "Wouldn't it be better if you finished your atonement projects first? Besides, I'm still studying, too."). But she'd never looked so scared to tell him why he was about to be rejected.
"Nothing's wrong. That's the point."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you want things to change so badly?"
"Change between us—you say it like it would be a bad thing."
"What would be so good about it?"
That one hurt. "I just want to be closer to you. I want everyone to know that we belong to each other."
"Belong?"
"No, no, no, not like that. I just want to show everyone that… that I choose you over everyone else. Even myself." He decided not to say that he wanted her to show everyone she felt the same about him, realizing with the sinking of his gut that it would be presumptuous of him to think that she would.
"Why do I have to choose, though? I love you—but I also love my parents, I love Pascal, and I love my people. Wouldn't my choosing you be like separating myself from everyone else?"
"I don't want to take anything away from you. I only want to give you more—more than I can now. What is it in me that you're afraid of?"
Rapunzel looked down.
And then he knew it: he was being rejected for a third time. A small part of him wanted to toss her off his lap and storm off somewhere he could hide his face and be alone; but a bigger, more desperate part just wanted her to stay put. "Hey, I'm sorry—"
"—don't apologize."
"Ok. Look, I love you, okay?"
"And I love you." She looked up at him again.
"Okay." It would just have to be enough for now. "Can I have some more bread?"
"Sure." She scooted off him and back into her original spot. While she leaned over the basket Pascal crawled out of cocoon on her shoulder and scampered through the cold to where Eugene's hand rested on his leg. He closed his eyes and rested his head against his knuckles.
More nicely than he'd ever dressed himself on purpose before, Eugene left the corridor he was occupying alone to join the party in the palace's lower ballroom. He swatted the blue fabric of his pants self-consciously for any stray pieces of fur the tailless cat had left behind after taking a nap on them. He wasn't used to making such a thing of his wardrobe—he suspected he'd look good in just about anything, and in any case had never felt the need to use what he was wearing to make himself even better—but he knew that the Sol Invictus ball the King and Queen were throwing was a major even for Rapunzel. Besides, he'd be embarrassed if he showed up in his regular boots and doublet if even the merchants and landowners who'd been invited were better-prepared than him.
"Eugene, you look very dashing." The Queen took both his hands in hers to spread his arms apart and get a look at his outfit. The show of familiarity in front of all their other guests made Eugene feel a little warm in the face, but the thought he played it off well once she let him go and he was allowed to bow his head in a more proper greeting.
"Yes, it's very good—" the King leaned in closer to Eugene. "Am I going to be making any announcements this evening?"
"Rapunzel didn't tell me anything this afternoon, and I didn't want to ask—but it really should be her father that makes the announcement, especially with all these guests in person—"
Eugene shook his head. "She said no."
Rapunzel's father balked before recovering himself. "Again."
Not knowing how he should respond, he simply didn't, watching the King and Queen's reactions instead.
"Oh, Eugene, you mustn't give up; I know she loves you."
"Of course I won't."
"That's a good man." The King placed a hand on Eugene's shoulder. "You'll need that determination; I expect someone else to ask for Rapunzel's hand before the end of the day."
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Eugene, but I had to give him my blessing for diplomatic reasons."
Eugene nodded, a falling sensation beneath his feat where solid ground should have been. "Who—ah, can you please tell me who is planning to ask her?"
"Lord Abergavenny."
Eugene wondered if he should have known who this was.
"You met him yesterday."
"…"
"You beat him playing at longstaff?"
"Aaron."
"Aaron!" That chump. Eugene had beaten him at longstaff sparring a few times, but they'd been pretty chummy over beers. Did he think he was scoping out his competition or something?
Wait.
Competition? No. Rapunzel had rejected him three times so far, but she loved him; he knew it. He wasn't worried about a competition for Rapunzel. But he was irked by the knowledge that someone wanted Rapunzel in the same way that he wanted her. No—that wasn't right either; no one could want Rapunzel like he did, could they? Would they appreciate her art, the pinkness of her fingernail beds, the reading recommendations she gave relentlessly, her songs, the way her freckles crinkled into one another when she smiled? What about Pascal? Would any other man tolerate her closeness to the lizard? No. No; no one—not even he—could possibly be good enough for Rapunzel, but at least he loved her. Could Aaron—Lord Abergavenny— possibly love her?
"I'm not really concerned, Eugene." The King's voice brought him out of what he was worried had become a blank stare. "But I would have felt better if you two would have tied things up sooner. Are you sure you're asking clearly."
"Where is she?"
"She's making a staggered entrance soon." The Queen had her arm clutched in the King's. "She did go back to her rooms for something she forgot, though."
"Thank you."
He bowed his head as curtly as he could without feeling rude, then turned on his heel out of the ballroom. Rapunzel's rooms were up a few floors, but he made it there in a matter of a few minutes. He didn't even come across any guards to give him any of their customary distrustful looks.
The double doors to Rapunzel's rooms were wide open, as usual. On his first glance, he didn't see her anywhere in the room, so he knocked. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Rapunzel come forward from against the wall, but when he looked there was nothing there but the bare wall.
"Eugene?" someone croaked.
He turned and only saw Rapunzel, framed in the light falling through the window behind her. He crossed the room, finding when he got closer that her face was red with crying. Or was it blush?
"Hey. Aren't you supposed to be making your grand entrance soon?"
"Yeah." She sniffled and turned away to dab under her eyes with an abused-looking handkerchief. As she turned Eugene noticed a sheaf of papers pinned in between her body and her elbow.
"Rapunzel, are those your drawings?" He took them gently, seeing some black smudging on the bodice of her dress from whatever she'd used on the paper. "Aw, babe, you've got some color on your dress."
She looked down, then threw her arms up, but feebly. "Great. Now this is going to be a disaster for sure."
"What are you talking about? Here, give me your handkerchief, I'll see what I can do." He dusted at it a few times, and most of it flew off pretty easily, probably due partly to the soggy state of the handkerchief. "See? No problem." He stood up from where he'd been kneeling beside her. "What's going on?"
Her eyes looked full of moisture, and were wide, as if she were avoiding closing them to keep it all from overflowing. "I think I just figured something out." She gestured at the papers Eugene had lain face down on an end table.
He picked them up and took a moment to place them. "These are your specter-drawings, aren't they?"
She nodded. "I still see her sometimes, and I think she knows it."
"What—"
"And I don't think she likes me."
"I don't—"
"And the shape of her… it's—it's—I always thought there was something familiar about it…like Mother."
Eugene looked at the drawings again, but kept from saying anything while she caught her breath.
"I mean, don't you think so?"
"I don't know. I only met her once and everything from that time kind of blurs together, to be honest."
Rapunzel looked away and nodded.
"But, hey, I'm confused, Rapunzel. Why are you upset? Are you scared?"
"I didn't used to be; I thought seeing her was strange and exciting— like magic. But she started getting closer to me—"
"What do you mean 'closer to you'?"
"Like, instead of seeing her at the other side of a hallway, I'd see her across the room. Then a few feet away. Then close enough to lean over my shoulder."
"You've seen her close up?"
"No, no, I can only see the shape of her. I don't know if she has wrinkles on her arms, or what color her eyes are or anything."
Eugene looked back at her drawings; they were only dark outlines and rough, shadowy shading.
"But the closer she's gotten, the more I feel scared. It's not a feeling like being scared of something; it's the feeling itself. You know, in your stomach and at the back or your neck?"
He nodded.
"And I didn't know why, but she's never harmed me or anything, so I didn't think to say anything. But I had this dream last night—" her voice broke as a sob caused her to inhale sharply.
Eugene lifted the handkerchief to dab at her eyes, which were definitely flowing now, but she took it away from him to do it herself—much less gently than he would have, he thought.
"—and I realized that she looks like her." She breathed a few times, clearly trying to slow herself down. "I don't remember all of the dream, but I was just remembering some things she used to say to me. She would say they were only jokes, most of the time. But sometimes she forgot to say that, and I ended up always believing that they were true."
"What kinds of things?"
"Like that I mumble too much, that I was getting chubby, or that I was immature."
Eugene looked away, feeling agitated suddenly.
"And I think on another day I would have been able to push it away, but today… today I'm supposed to be royal."
"You're royal every day, babe."
"But today I'm supposed to look and act like it." She turned and began to pace a slow track in front of where Eugene leaned on the back of a couch. "And I guess I thought I was prepared; you know, it's really just a matter of speaking and carrying yourself in certain ways. But I already had her voice in the back of my mind: "sloppy, underdressed…" And I feel like it's exactly like that!"
"Rapunzel, you're the exact opposite of underdressed." He looked her up and down so that she would notice him doing it. "You look amazing."
She smiled sadly at him.
"My cousin Belinda helped me get ready. She put blush on my cheeks; she said it looked good because it covers up my freckles. Mother always said it was a shame that they developed, that it ruined my complexion."
It took Eugene a moment to decide how he could tell her—how he could cover everything she should hear to make her feel stronger.
"Hey," he held out his hand for her. "Sit with me?"
He guided them to the couch and perched on the edge with her. He could hear the various fabrics of her skirts brush against one another as she fidgeted.
"I don't know how else to tell you your freckles are beautiful—" he kissed her cheekbone, where he knew them to be "because you already know I like them. Let me see that." He took the handkerchief from where she was clutching it in her lap. He began moving the cloth along her cheeks, nose, and forehead as he spoke. "I don't think anyone here has ever let it stop them from adoring you, right?"
Rapunzel shook her head.
"It's because you're their princess, and you're just the princess they need. You'll look beautiful tonight and you're going to sound great speaking to all these important people—but that's not going to make you seem like a better princess. I mean, I've never heard of a princess like you; you're not just beautiful—you're smart, too, and interested in people, and you treat everyone the same. You could go to the ball barefoot tonight, and next week even your cousin Belinda will be doing the same."
"But I am wearing shoes, Eugene." She sniffled and lifted the hem of her dress. "See? They sparkle, and they match my dress."
"Yeah, I see that." He handed the handkerchief back to her; it was smeared pink in places from the blush he'd wiped from her face.
"Thanks."
He grinned at her. "Don't worry about anything for now. I don't know too much about ghosts, but I know for sure that they can't hurt you."
"How are you sure?"
"Because they're dead."
Rapunzel breathed that in, chewing on her tongue. "You say that, but I feel like Mother might have said those things to me just last night. And that does hurt."
Eugene nodded and grimaced. "Whatever she said to you—whatever anyone's ever said to you—it doesn't matter. You like your dress, don't you?"
She nodded.
"And your face? Your freckles?"
"I don't mind them, I guess."
"And what about dancing? Are you ready to dance?"
She nodded, smiling now.
"Alright then!" He clapped his hands together and placed them on his knees, thinking about the princess who sat next to him. Much more sedately: "It's a shame I'm not allowed to dance with you."
"What if—"
"But it's just as well." He stood and held out his hand to help her up. He remembered that he'd come to find her in the first place to look at her, talk to her, find some reminder of why he was sure he didn't have to worry if some other man wanted her; he expected to be the needy one. "Because then I'd just want to keep you to myself all evening."
She kissed him then, in that surprising way she had of grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him down. It felt different to him, though; she moved her hands to his shoulder and the back of his neck, pulling at him in a way that felt serious. But it was hard to wonder about it any further than that; she pressed herself against him; she didn't loosen her grip—and he wouldn't if she wouldn't.
Eugene was already felt fuzzy when she pulled away enough to speak.
"I love you, Eugene."
"I love you too, Rapunzel." Fuzzy because it was perfect.
"Let's get married."
Fuzzy because things didn't make sense. "Huh?"
"You still want to marry me, don't you?"
He nodded.
"You haven't changed your mind since this morning?"
He shook his head.
"So you will marry me?"
He exhaled, "Yeah." Had she just turned his proposal around on him? "Hold on—"
She kissed him again. This time he could feel her smiling through it.
"I was scared to say yes this morning, but—but I'm not afraid anymore."
"Really?"
"Yeah." She pulled him out of her rooms by the hand. "Come on, I'm supposed to make my entrance before sunset."
They ran through the corridors, down stone steps, down carpeted steps.
"You go in first—we'll tell my parents later. What d'you think they'll say?" She held on to her crown with the hand he wasn't holding while they ran.
"I think they'll want to make an announcement."
"Really? You think they'll be that happy?"
"Yep. I think they might even let me dance with you tonight."