A.N. YAY! New chapter! Sorry if it took long again. This was actually a quick update considering my record :P Anyway, this chapter caused me some issues. I kept changing it, kept hating the direction it was going in. I'm trying desperately hard to build up Eugene's past life, just because I want it to be important after, so please don't hate me if this chapter lacks any Rapunzel/Eugene action. I promise that there will be some interaction soon!

On a side note, thank you all so very much for the overwhelming support. You're all so wonderful and I really do appreciate the reviews and favourties and alerts. I promise to finish this story for all of you :)

WARNING! There's a scene in this chapter that wavers between T and M. It's really not that graphic at all, but I'd much rather be safe than sorry. You'll all probably recognize when the scene is coming up. Again, it's nothing terribly graphic, but it is implicit of certain actions…Just saying…

Read ahead.

Chapter Ten:

When Eugene had still not returned by nightfall, Rapunzel's earlier concerned mutated into panic. A bluster of nerves, she stalked the palace like a ghost, looking in every crevice, though logic told her if he was here, he would not be hiding.

The king and queen were at a loss, unable to staunch her anxiety.

"He's fine."

"He'll be back soon."

"We'll send out Vincent."

"He'll find him."

"Don't worry."

"Everything will be fine."

None of it could stop Rapunzel, no words, no warm embraces, no reassurances. Only fatigue in the end slowed her down.

Vincent found her on the marble floor. He carried her to her room, alerting the king and queen. The situation did not seem dire, though. Exhaustion alone had claimed her, and she had succumbed before reaching her chambers. They left her to rest in what they thought would be a dreamless sleep. It was far from that.

She dreamt first of Gothel. The woman was old, with silver hair, not the raven-haired woman who had raised her. With sunken eyes and wrinkled skin, she reached towards Rapunzel in the dark of her mind with claw like nails and white skin tinted with popping blood vessels. Like limbs of a branch, they came for her. Rapunzel struggled to escape, but she could not move, frozen to her spot as the hands came for her.

And then they were gone, wiped away. In their place stood a green forest, and a pool shimmering in the sunlight. Bluer than any water she'd seen before, it beckoned for her. She came towards it, barefoot in the gentle grass and knelt down at its edge.

Her hand descended into it, skimming the surface. Cupping her palm, she lifted some to her lips, unable to resist the temptation. Cool liquid pooled into her lips as she tasted the sweetness of it, letting it refresh her in the dazing sun. Better than anything she'd ever tasted before, her hand went in again, wanting more.

With closed eyes, she took another sip, and gagged as the taste of iron flooded her mouth.

Looking down, she shrank in fear at the sight of blood on her hands. The crimson liquid was splattered against her skin and clothes.

Glancing into the pool, she could see that the once blue water had been contaminated and ran red now with blood.

Releasing a wrangled cry, she stumbled back. And she fell through the earth.

Down she went, her cries echoing around her as the darkness entombed her, refusing to release her, holding her tight as it strangled the life from her frail body.

D E S T I N I E S E N T W I N E D

Eugene felt as if the world was spinning around him. It had to be so, because he could feel as if his entire body was on a platform, revolving, revolving, revolving…He daren't open his eyes, lest the urge in his belly to release the contents of his stomach be made manifest. Closed his eyes remained as he sought to find a way to slow the urge, to slow the spinning earth.

He was lying on something soft. He tried to concentrate on this point, but it did not work. The scent drifting through the room, he was keen to ignore. Sickly sweet, it made his stomach churn dangerously. Something else then.

An image flashed in his mind. Yes. Short, pixie brown hair. Hold on. Orbs of emerald perfection. Rapunzel.

His eyes opened as the world came to a jarring halt. His vision was bleary, but at least his surroundings were no longer swaying. This momentary reprieve was short-lived, however, as he slowly recognized the room that now harboured his drunken self.

Can't be. He blinked several times, and pinched his arm hard. Not a dream then, he groaned as pain followed. So…did I…no. Please, no.

The floor creaked beyond the door, and Eugene jolted further up in bed, scrambling suddenly to hide. Still light-headed, he tripped over himself and fell with a resounding crash on the floor. Oh, complete déja vu.

"And the wheels keep turning, don't they, dear Flynn?"

She had not changed. That was the next thought to filter through Eugene's mind. Still tall, with a ravenous look about her; her hazel eyes still flecked with ghost dust; and her hair still silky, long and black.

"Viarya," he whispered, struggling to force back the emotions of the past. Seeing her was awaking feelings, evoking memories. In his fuzzy mind the lines between past and present were blurring. Rapunzel, he reminded himself sharply, but there was something intoxicating about being in this room—being in this room with her. "What are…"

"You don't need to hide under my bed. My father's not come yet," Viarya chided him teasingly. Dressed in a night shift, her form was almost visible beneath, each curve a path already explored. "How long has it been now? Three years?" Her voice was becoming bitter. "You gave me six months, six blissful months, and then you were gone."

"Vee…" Eugene pleaded gently, as she walked towards him. He realized the dangers of this scenario, but his faculties would not let him escape. "You were too young; I was too young." There was so much he could remember of those six months. For two years, Viarya had been an ally, a friend to run to when the guards came too close. And then he'd been 18, and she only 16 and everything had changed; feelings had deepened and he'd wanted her to be more, and so had she.

"Too young?" she repeated as if the statement was nonsensical. "I loved you. You were my first, and you said I was hadn't mattered then if that was truth or not. You made me feel alive. You were my life. I wasn't too young, and neither were you. I never understood why you left. It took me a while to realize you had just stopped loving me."

"That wasn't it," he argued, uncertain why he was fighting her. Better to have her believe in that, than to know the truth; because the truth was something else. A name buzzed in his head. Hunter. He'd gotten in too deep, and had placed her in danger because of it. "I didn't want you getting hurt," he breathed. "I was dangerous. You were always better off without me."

"And what about the princess? Does she deserve you? Is she not in danger?"

"I've changed," he insisted, surprised that Viarya was aware of that relationship. She had always been a force to be reckoned with, and as she came at him with words as sharp as knives, memories of arguments that she would always win invaded his mind. She'd been young, but she had also been strong-spirited and witty, and at times: wicked.

"So I've heard, Eugene Fitzherbert." She purred his name, letting it roll off his tongue as if it was a tasty new treat. "I've changed too," she reminded him, moving towards him suddenly as a panther stalks a prey. "I'm older, and I've learned to forgive."

He stood then, but stumbled back, falling onto the bed. He was terribly hung-over, he realized. No, this is not good at all.

She knelt before him, placing her hands on his knee. "Tell me," she whispered, leaning towards him, the scent of her cinnamon perfume overwhelming his senses. She paused a little before his face, the smell of mint fresh on her lips. "Can she love you like I did?" Her lips pressed against his cheek, and his body trembled. "Can she make you feel like I did?" They pressed against the nape of his neck. "Can she bring you to life?" Her hands clutched at him.

He swore under his breath. "Vee," he whispered warningly. "Don't."

Too late her lips fell into his with a burning passion, her body pressing into his as her hands moved through his hair.

Don't, his mind screamed. You can't. But his mind was not in control, weak as it was under the lingering effects of alcohol. His body had control, urging him to accept her advances, yearning to be loved in a way he had not known for months.

In seconds, he was lost to her touch. His arms pulled her in tighter, wanting her to melt into him. She was his. The dull cries of his mind could not hinder him now.

She forced him down on the bed, crawling on top of him, her kisses never ceasing, still fierce. Deftly, her hands worked at his vest, shaking it off. For a second they were torn apart. Impatient, she yanked roughly at his shirt, ripping it slightly before coming back down.

He was hardly breathing as her lips descended his cheek, following his jawline to his neck before continuing down his chest. He shook with each kiss, while her fingers played with his abdomen, running over him like drops of water.

Her body slid down his, her kisses fast approaching the edge of his pants.

"Rapunzel," he breathed longingly.

The kisses stopped, her head jolting up in shock. "What did you call me?"

"Rapunzel," he repeated, the name drumming in his head with sudden strength. Rapunzel. It filled him with power, fueling the rationality of his mind, allowing it to gain control of his actions once more.

He shoved himself forcefully away from her, disgusted with himself. He reached for his shirt, pulling it on in a hurry, and then the vest, taking opportunity of Viarya's sudden distraction. "I'm so sorry," he told her, standing firm, trying to ignore the shaky feelings in his legs. "I can't. I don't love you anymore."

"Yes, you do," she argued, regaining her resolve. "I know you do. And I still love you."

Eugene shook his head forcefully, maintaining the distance between them. Every step she took towards him, was a step he retreated. "No; I have Rapunzel. She's the one. What we had, it was wonderful. But it wasn't…it isn't what either of us need."

She laughed harshly. "But your princess is? How long do you think those royals will put up with you? She'll have suitors by the dozen soon, pursuing her and then you'll be just a memory." She paused as tears started to form in her eyes. "I want you to be more than a memory. Please, Flynn."

Viarya reached for him, but he easily side-stepped her move. Her eyes were clouded with betrayal. He was doing his best to ignore the words, remembering why he had come to drown his sorrows at the tavern in the first place. "You're wrong," he said forcefully, eyeing the window opposite himself. How many times he had escaped that way? He could hardly remember; too many times to count.

"You passed out on the floor last night, completely drunk. I dragged you up here when my father wasn't looking. I've risked everything for you. Tell me, would she do the same?"

He fought back the waves of anger moving through him. She had no right. "Yes," he hissed through ground teeth. "She's risked everything for me." The vision of grey hair made him feel hill. He despised himself for running, for coming here, for drinking himself unconscious, and for almost…I need to get back to her. Again, he looked to the window, only now noticing that dusk was already falling.

"I've been out a whole day?" he questioned incredulously. "Impossible."

"You were really drunk," she reminded him, her voice teeming with spite. "Big argument with the princess, eh? But about what, I wonder."

Eugene looked back to Viarya. "There was no fight. And it's none of your business." Considering the conversation done, he strode towards the window, preparing to leap from it. Going out the front door would surely mean meeting Viarya's father. He remembered him as being a tall, burly man with a zero tolerance for men chasing his daughter. Even if he were to proclaim his innocence, his reputation preceded him. Far better not to relive old feelings.

"So, I suppose once you're out that window, you're not coming back."

Eugene hesitated before his portal of escape, turning to see Viarya watching him with red-shot eyes and a look that expressed a fear of his leaving. You're so close. Don't look back now.

I'm not looking back, he reassured himself. This is all part of looking forward.

Walking back to Viarya, he placed hand gently on her cheek. "I've hurt you. For that I'm sorry. But we have to move on, Vee. I already have. It's time you stopped living in the past. Maybe we were supposed to meet again so we could close this up properly. Three years ago, I did love you. But I was different then, you were different then. We were chapters in each other's life, small parts of our lives. It's time to turn the next page." It sounded far too generic, but if it worked…He watched her expression closely, hoping he had crossed some line.

"I don't think I'll ever find someone like you," she finally said, not sounding at all convinced by his little speech. "I don't know if I want to."

Seriously? "Trust me, you do," he tried again. "I'm trying my best here, Vee. I need you to understand that I don't feel that way anymore. Once I did, but now I don't. I'm sorry. Okay?"

Her head tilted down, as if unwilling to meet his gaze. "No, it's not." She looked back up again, this time her eyes burned with fiery resolve, and a need for vengeance. "FATHER!"

"Damn," Eugene whispered. He scrambled away from her, racing for the window as the sound of heavy footsteps pounded at the door. He had not imagined himself facing such a scenario again, but as he stood at the precipice of being discovered in Viarya's room in disarray, his heart began to pound with adrenaline, the old spirit of Flynn Rider rising up from the ashes.

He drew open the panes of glass just as Harold, Viarya's father, appeared in the doorway. In his hand, he held a meat cleaver.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Eugene uttered as he pushed himself onto the ledge.

"RIDER!" Harold roared in recognition, running forward in mad fury.

"Just came to drop in. I'll be going now. Bye!"

With that, Eugene launched himself off the ledge. Below him stood an awning that gladly softened his fall, propelling him forward as he bounced against the material.

He rolled as the ground rushed up to meet him, ensuring that his landing would not result in any broken bones. I still got it, he thought, thoroughly pleased with himself as he found himself without a bruise. And I'm still partially drunk.

"RIDER!"

Eugene glanced up at the beefy red face staring down from the window. He saluted him with his right hand. "Thanks for your hospitality. I won't forget it."

That charismatic spirit that had always defined Flynn Rider was pumping through him with a fury as he mocked Harold. He knew what would happen next. In fact, he relished in the fact that it would.

"Someone stop him!"

The cry reached the ears of all those standing in the street, though most had already been focused on the scene, unable to ignore the cries of the father or Eugene's rather graceful escape. The men immediately launched into action, racing forward to stop a man who could have easily jumped out of the window of their own daughter's rooms.

With a knowing smile, Eugene leapt away, pushing through the crowd. The men gave chase, pursuing him down the streets.

Some things never change.

D E S T I N I E S E N T W I N E D

Rapunzel sat staring out at the sunset. She had been there for quite some time now, simply watching the bustling crowd below, always hoping that from their midst, Eugene would magically appear. He had not, and still she had waited, the hours creeping by.

Her parents had taken to checking on her, unable to pull her away from her watch. Vincent had come in once or twice too. Like clockwork, at least one of the three had appeared at the turn of the hour, pleading with her. But she had ignored them, swearing that she would not move till Eugene was by her side.

Pascal sat with her the hours through, his head resting on her hands, his eyes watchful. He was the only one who did not attempt to sway her intent, merely remaining supportive and silent unless she pulled him into conversation.

"It's been two days now, Pascal," Rapunzel whispered to the chameleon, her eyes never pulling away from the square below.

In the distance, the sun was disappearing behind the buildings of Corona, the sky splashed in an array of navy and blood-red. Nightfall was almost complete, and as the last few hints of sunlight dropped from the sky, the street below became almost impossible to see.

He squeaked reassuringly, but he had no effect on her heavy heart.

"I think something might be wrong," she told him. "He could be hut or in big trouble. I have to find him," she insisted, picking the chameleon up in her hands and lifting him to her face. This was the first time she allowed herself to look away. "Will you help me?"

He nodded eagerly, wanting to be of help. Perhaps if he had better understood her meaning, he would not have been so excited to volunteer. Rather, he would have done his best to persuade her otherwise.

"We'll have to time this perfectly," she continued, suddenly filled with an anxious fervour. She glanced at the door behind her, and then to the giant clock standing high in the town's square. It was near the turn of another hour. "Okay. This is it."

Pascal's eyes were large as he tried to understand what exactly Rapunzel had in mind. But her face was a mask, unreadable as she turned to look back down at the straggling passer-bys.

In a matter of minutes the door to her room was opened, both her mother and father appearing in the frame, their gazes focused on their daughter's form where it was perched on the seat beside her window.

"Rapunzel, aren't you hungry?" her mother asked gently, gliding to her daughter's side to sit on the seat beside her. Her fingers swept aside a few strands of hair. "We're about to dine. Won't you join us?"

Rapunzel turned to stare at her mother, her eyes billowing with tears. "He's not coming back is he, Mommy?"

The queen did not respond, glancing to her husband for help. He stood a few paces away, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression one of loss. She was their daughter; they were her parents—but the idea of caring for another human being was one they were still grasping at. They'd missed the first few stages of her life, had been given a woman fully grown, and they still could not know the exact way of dealing with these issues.

"Don't say that, darling," her mother whispered soothingly. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Rapunzel sniffled as she threw a glance at her father. "Daddy?" she questioned.

He shifted, discomforted. What could he say to her when he did not know for certain; when his instincts were telling him the boy had run off? "I'm sure we've not seen the last of Eugene Fitzherbert," he said finally, thinking that it was closer to the truth than anything.

Rapunzel nodded. "I am hungry," she said after a brief pause. "What are we eating?"

The king and queen shared a quick look of relief. "Let's find out, shall we?" her mother rose first, offering her a hand.

Rapunzel took it and followed her parents out the door. As they went, she glanced at Pascal who was now perched on her shoulder and winked. Her plan was going to work.

D E S T I N I E S E N T W I N E D

It had not taken Eugene long to escape the pursuing men. In the darkness, he'd used his superior knowledge of the alleys of Corona to evade them. Guided on by the past, Eugene had embraced the person he had once been, the name and characteristics he had absorbed those years ago. As he came to a spot though, intent on catching his breath, Flynn Rider was laid to rest once more as Eugene stood against a wall, forcing himself to focus on the present.

He had made more mistakes in the last two days then he had in a year being Flynn. His first instinct was to blame it on everyone around him: Vincent, the king and queen, even Rapunzel for making him feel dizzy every time he saw her. The truth was far more daunting. He was still unreliable, still a man unable to stay still. There was still too much Flynn Rider in him. Tonight had proved as much. But Rapunzel needed him now, and if he hoped to do the best for her, he would have to forcefully leave that life behind him, and embrace the one before him. If he did not, he could risk losing her forever.

Continuing forward once more, he wavered between a slow jog and a fast walk, trying to narrow the distance between him and the palace. There was a time limit. Little more than a week remained before Rapunzel…

He shoved the thought away. Breathe. It won't get that far. He hoped he wasn't lying.

The streets were expanding, broadening as he drew closer to the main square. Nearly there. It was late, but it did not matter. He would wake the king and queen if they were asleep. They had to know tonight, had to trust him that their daughter was in danger, and that he had to save her no matter what that meant.

It would not be easy.

Crossing into the square, the burden weighing on his heart seemed to grow even heavier. A mixture of exhaustion and hopelessness was pulling him deeper into despair, threatening to drag him into unconscious. Keep going, you're almost there.

The night was still around him, the sounds of the world deadened under the dark sky. Within feet of the castle, a scream pierced the silence of the air, echoing around him with sudden ferocity.

Eugene came to a dead halt. He knew that voice.

It was Rapunzel.

A.N. Yes, I know. Cliffie. I really couldn't help myself. Next chapter will definitely prove to be an exciting one…I hope. So please drop a line to let me know what you thought of this chapter and the developments. Comment, constructive criticism, question, suggestion…anything and everything is welcomed.

Love you all,

Faith xo