Rapunzel is trying to feel bored.
She has quite a lot of experience with boredom as there are only so many things a person can do at the top of a small, locked tower day after day. Being bored is horrid, but it is familiar, far more familiar than the odd, oppressive sensation that makes her throat feel tight and her lungs too small. Being bored is better than sitting idly by while her heart slowly drowns in something that feels very much like tears.
Boredom, she decides, is preferable.
She traces an outline of the sun with her big toe on the velvet that covers the floor of the carriage. Her tongue peeks out from between her lips as she finishes the final curve. It joins an array of stars and a crescent moon (because the moon is always most recognizable when drawn as a crescent, not because it is any more beautiful that way… no, Rapunzel prefers the majesty of a full moon, but the crescent is unique, like Eugene is unique: a subtly glowing crescent amongst blazing suns).
Now that she is finished, Rapunzel tucks her foot under herself and admires her work. Pascal would have liked it. Eugene might have made some kind of cheeky comment about her drawing with her toe – "Branching out, are we, Blondie?" he would have asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and breathing into her ear; it makes her shiver when he does that and he takes every opportunity to elicit that reaction from her; over the years, she has discovered that she doesn't mind so much. Yes, Eugene would have teased her in several ways, but she knows he would have appreciated the design as well.
She tilts her head to the side and, break time over, extends her foot once more. She begins to coax the outline of a mountainous horizon into the weave of the carpet, doing her best to ignore the empty aching in her chest.
"Your grandmother," the king says softly, as if the mere sound of a voice has the ability to shatter the artwork on the coach floor, "used to paint."
Rapunzel looks up, her bare toe hovering above the floor. "Did she?"
Her father nods. "The sky, mostly. Sunrise and sunset. Misty dawns. And storms. I remember when I was a boy, how she would throw open the balcony doors during the most terrifying storms and paint. The wind would blow her hair and the rain would splatter the canvas, but when lightning struck in the distance…" His voice trails off and Rapunzel stares at his expression. He looks so much younger, lost in his memories.
"Lightning?" she prompts. Rapunzel frowns, trying to remember ever seeing such a storm either from the tower window or during the last three years she has lived in the castle.
The king sighs. "Sometimes I do miss those storms, but it's best that they stay away. They cause mischief, you know."
"What do you mean?" she presses, tucking her leg underneath her on the upholstered seat. "It's better that they stay away. You make it sound as if they have a choice."
He chuckles. "They don't. You're right, but…" He glances around them and, ensuring that none of the mounted guards are riding immediately beside the coach, confides, "I do."
"What?" She blinks with confusion as he reaches for his crown and taps its surface with his fingertips.
"You are old enough," he says, his voice weighted with responsibility and royalty, "to know the truth. The single drop of sunlight which fell to earth and created the magic flower which saved your mother's life and gave you your golden hair… It was not the only one."
Rapunzel gapes at him.
"You mustn't ever tell anyone, my dearest, but there was another plant which grew, many generations ago, long before the magic flower. Legend goes that it wasn't one drop, but four which fell together in the same place. And there grew a tree, a great, twisting tree with golden leaves and gemstone flowers. Our ancestors took the leaves and jewels and made these trinkets of ours."
He indicates his own crown and then Rapunzel's with a regal wave of his hand. "Through these, we command the sun so that it always shines favorably upon our kingdom."
"This," Rapunzel finally manages, "is a secret?"
"It must be," he gently admonishes her.
She considers that, wonders if she can still tell Eugene… Eugene! With a gasp she sits upright.
"Is that why he was to be hanged?" she hisses urgently. "You feared he knew the power of our…?" Her voice trails off as the ramifications of this unfold in her thoughts.
She clutches her father's sleeve in her hand as she thinks aloud. "That was why you agreed to pardon him? In hopes that he would tell you…? Or that he might try to steal it again and lead you to the person who hired him?"
"My dearest," the king whispers back, his expression sad. "Do you truly think so little of me? Eugene Fitzherbert was pardoned because he returned our greatest treasure safely to us, because you clearly needed him, because your mother and I wanted only your happiness."
Once upon a time, Rapunzel might have believed him unconditionally, but she is no longer the naïve child that Gothel had sheltered and kept ignorant of the world.
Perhaps he sees the suspicion in her expression – Eugene is always scolding her for not making a better effort to conceal her emotions – because he admits with a sigh, "The other points you raised were considered. However, he seems very loyal to you."
She scowls. "Eugene is loyal to me. He died to save me from Gothel."
"And I will never forget that," the king replies. "Nor will I ever cease being thankful for it."
"But you don't trust him," she realizes. As she speaks the words, their truth echoes and resonates with the heartache she has been working so hard not to feel. "You still don't trust him."
The king is silent. Rapunzel sits back against the coach seat and shakes her head. "I don't believe this. After all this time… After everything he's done for me, and you've done for him…"
"Do not assume that's all there is to it," he cautions her but she fears she may be beyond listening. She glares out the frustratingly small, decorative window and tries not to hear his justifications. "We are royalty and we must guard ourselves against those who would use us. It pains me that Gothel will not be the last of such enemies you will have to face. Your mother and I are doing all we can to protect you from them, but—"
Rapunzel whirls to face him as his words align and reveal a second, previously hidden truth within her. "That's what this whole tour is about, isn't it? You and mother decided to leave Eugene behind because—!" She is too incensed to speak the words.
"Eugene will be waiting for you when you return," the king reminds her. "We only want you to see the world such as it is, for yourself." He pauses for a moment before venturing, "You know he agreed to remain behind at your mother's request."
"I know…" Confusion enters into her voice. Why had he agreed? Did he really want her to see the world without him?
Almost immediately she dismisses the idea. There must be another reason why he would agree to stay behind while she traveled with her father. Though he had tried to answer her constant questions, Eugene hadn't been able to fully convince her why it was such a good idea for him to remain with the queen at the castle this year. It had been clear that he was going to miss her but no matter how she'd cajoled and pressed, he had never really admitted why she should go without him.
After he had told her about his intention to stay behind, Rapunzel had noticed that Eugene had suddenly taken an unusually keen interest in her hobbies. Straddling a chair and waiting for her to complete her measurements for a new dress for Pascal hadn't seemed to bother him in the least. Normally, he would have tried to teach her bawdy limericks or kicked off his boots and beat his heels against the floor in an obnoxious rhythm. "I'm not very good at doing nothing," he had told her time and time again in the not recently.
And all this week, Eugene had watched her more when he'd thought she was too busy to notice. He had, especially in the couple of days leading up to this trip, been more demonstrative in his feelings for her. His previously unspoken words – so much– drift into Rapunzel's thoughts. No, she has no doubt that Eugene loves her, but the intense addition of those two simple words had caused Rapunzel to go speechless. They still do. She hadn't missed the raw emotion that had been attached to the two words.
Perhaps he knew about her parents' reluctance to see past his former ways! Perhaps this was his way of appeasing them and showing them that he was no longer Flynn Rider (though Rapunzel hadn't thought of him as such in years!) and was committed to a Eugene Fitzherbert way of life!
Yes, that is it, Rapunzel decides.
Eugene surely knows her feelings for him will never change, so he is doing everything he can to show her parents that he is not to be feared with their daughter's welfare, but trusted. After all, there is no one who Rapunzel entrusts more with her heart than Eugene.
When she arrives back at the castle she is going to rush into the arms of her waiting Eugene (for there is no doubt in her mind that he will be waiting for her return eagerly) and tell him that she has already figured out his plan to dazzle her parents. He will be impressed with her cleverness and reward her with a sound kiss, regardless if her father is present or not!
Just twenty more days to go before she can do just that.
Familiar equine footsteps approach the coach. She glances at the king who appears to be dozing in his seat before sitting on her knees to peer outside the window. She sees Maximus and his rider, the head of the royal guard, approaching. She gives him a small wave, wishing there was an apple in the cabin for her to give him. He nickers softly.
"Do you think Eugene is having fun at the castle?" she asks the horse, ignoring the curious look on the guard's face.
The stallion scrunches up his nose briefly. Obviously, she isn't the only one Eugene had failed to convince of his enthusiasm for party planning. She thinks of parties, of streamer and banner be-decked houses and streets and… she groans. What had she been thinking leaving Eugene behind to tackle the logistics of the annual Festival of the Sun? Why, she doubts he even knows his lilac from his orchid! Who knows what sort of color schemes he could talk her mother into!
Maximus leans in and busses her cheek with his horsey upper lip before once again assuming the proper posture for a proud captain of the royal guard. Rapunzel sits back on her seat, her crown shifting as she does so. Her crown, the Festival of the Sun… She had never guessed – and never would have guessed! – at how closely related they both are. Such power contained in a seemingly ornamental piece of headwear. Power over the sun means control over the seasons which means bountiful harvests and prosperity for years upon years.
No wonder her father had assumed someone had been after it. And now she wonders about the episode that had brought Eugene to her tower. Who had hired him to steal it? Or, conversely, who had he and the Stabbington brothers been hoping to sell it to? Whereas her father had never come out and asked Eugene directly, Rapunzel has no such qualms! But, again, it will be weeks before she'll have the chance.
Poor Eugene, she thinks with a too-wide grin. He really will be in for it when she returns.
Before she can begin to daydream about the impending confrontation, she hears Maximus snorting at something. Curious, she looks out the window where Max is. As they begin a steep turn, she notices an overt change in Maximus' demeanor. He looks conflicted for a moment, looking at the coach then back to the front where something is clearly demanding the horse's attention.
Maximus shoots her a look. Stay here, no matter what.
Rapunzel frowns as she watches him gallop forward, wondering what he had seen that could have bothered him so much. She considers waking up the king, who had been lulled to sleep by the steady pull of the horses, but decides to wait. There are nearly a dozen guards travelling with them. Surely they are well-protected.
It is probably just a rabbit on the road.
Rapunzel is still working on convincing herself that everything is fine and is striving to not think about how much she wishes Eugene were here when the coach begins to slow down until it stops completely.
"Are we there already?" the king asks sleepily.
Rapunzel peers out the window at the scene and scenery around the carriage. She can see the mounted members of the guard, posture rigid, and the lush woodland beyond, but she can no longer see Maximus. "I think… something unexpected has happened?" she supplies uncertainly. She doesn't particularly like her choice of words. There is a tension in the summer air that hadn't been there before. Something she hasn't sensed since she had defied Gothel. Something… menacing. Her hand creeps toward the dagger concealed on her thigh.
A horse snorts. Another quivers. The nearest guard reaches for his sword and then…!
Suddenly the peaceful summer afternoon is shattered by the sounds off clashing swords and men shouting at each other. The air buzzes and throbs, presses in on her and she must do something! Her promise to Eugene, to stay safe, is momentarily forgotten as the guards near the carriage draw their weapons. Other command their mounts forward to meet the unseen assailants. Rapunzel pulls up her dress to retrieve the knife she had brought. She will help them! She will not allow them to put their lives at risk when she is fully capable of defending herself! But the king stills her hand. "Let the guards to their job, my daughter."
Rapunzel is tempted to argue – she is no damsel in distress! – but, taking in his worried glance, she does as her father requests. If she disobeys him, it will only worry him and the guards. She may have convinced Eugene of her fighting skills, but the king seems to be more comfortable with her taking a less active role in her defense.
She wants to look out the window to see what's going on, but knows it isn't wise. Instead, she sits down and listens to the action outside, trying to piece together what is happening beyond the now-surreal comfort of the coach cabin. She stares at the pattern she had petted into the velvet carpet and tries not to count the sounds of potential injuries… or worse.
She doesn't need to defy her father and lean out the window of the carriage to know that the men fighting against their guards are numerous; their footsteps cause the ground to tremble. The clanging and crashing of swords nearly drowns out the insistent demands of the royal guard for the attackers to cease and desist at once! Maximus' scream pierces the air, slicing through the calls of all other horses.
Oh, how she wishes she could go out there and fight herself!
"Who are they?" she demands of her shaken father, fisting the pommel of her dagger through the fabric of her green summer dress.
He shakes his head, clearly overwhelmed. "I do not know, my dearest," he quietly admits.