Chapter 2

"Fwynn! Fwynn! Fwynn!" The two year old raced after her oldest brother.
"Mite, you stay and play."
"Nope. Come with you."
"Okay, fine." He rolled his eyes, picking her up and hoisting her onto his back. "Come on, mama needs me." He said, bouncing her along as he ran. His mother had called his name, but there was something so urgent in her voice. He couldn't be sure whether she had actually called him or not. Still, he was sure that he had not told his youngest sister a lie. It was pretty certain that she needed someone at that moment, and as they drew nearer to the sound of her voice still calling, a trickle of fear fingered his spine. His young nerves steeled themselves for what he might see, and he was suddenly certain that she had not called him.
He dropped his baby sister off of his back, slinging her onto his waist to change the weight as he ran. Plus, if there was anything she shouldn't see ... God willing nothing like his father's hunting accident of a few years past had happened again. He had never seen so much blood in his young life, and he still had nightmares from it.
His mother was kneeling on the ground: first sign for alarm. Second sign: his father's horse was standing there by the door. His father always unsaddled, brushed and stabled the horse himself - prince or no, no exceptions. Eugene sprinted rather then slowing down, closing the distance that apparently no one else had seen fit to cross. Where was everyone? The servants? Anyone?
"Mama!" He gasped out of breath as he came close. That was is father lying prone in her arms, his eyes fluttering only a little as if he were trying to wake up but couldn't quite manage.
"Eugene!" She gasped, looking up at him. Mite slipped off of his hip and ran over, cupping her mother's face in her little hands.
"Why is dada takin' nap outside? Mama, why you cryin'?" She inquired with her own little face distorted in sympathy. Rapunzel sniffed and tried to smile at her daughter, but she couldn't.
"Estelle, I ... dada's very sick." She looked up at the elder brother who didn't need prompting but rushed in through the door behind her to get help. The toddler flopped down on her backside next to her father's head and sandwiched his face between her hands. After a second she let out an exaggerated gasp and snapped her hands back to her sides.
"Dada hot!" She gasped. "Hot wike Fwynn and Mite esterday."
"Estelle, it was last week." Rapunzel corrected her.
"Dada gonna get better? Like Mite?" The toddler inquired eagerly. Rapunzel sighed, shaking her head a little. Eugene and his nicknames. Then she looked back at Eugene and ran a hand through his hair. Why must he always be knocking at death's door?
"Yes, Estelle." She whispered, but her eyes were trained on her husband; his shallow breathing, his burning skin. "Yes, he'll be alright."

Young Eugene Fitzherbert ran through the narrow halls, up stairs - but past no servants until he almost ran headlong into the cook.
"Eugene Fitzherbert! How many times -"
"Where is everyone?! Are you all deaf?!" He cried in frustration.
"I beg your pardo-"
"My mother has been screaming for help and no one has come!" The scolding, disciplining look on cooks face fell away immediately.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"My dad." Eugene explained, suddenly pathetic and not wanting at all to be. He was almost 15 - he should be a man. But...it was just too much like that hunting scene, his mother crying in worry. "He's ill. Cook, he road to the door and fell off the horse, from what I could tell." The cook gasped, something of an ejaculation came under breath, and she took off in the same direction the young prince had been running with him on her heels.
"Gave a lot if them the day off, young sir." She called after her as she ran, poking her head in doors here and there looking for people. "Being as last week was so busy as it was. It was all I could do to keep things coming up to your dad to make sure he didn't run all the way down here whenever he needed something. I tell you, young sir. Fifteen years in the castle, I would think that he knew what a bell cord was for. Poor thing so tired himself. I thought it strange he didn't catch a thing from you children."
"But, Cook, I think he's got scarlet fever."
"Young sir, no one else here..."
"He went to the orphanage." Eugene explained. The cook slowed down for only a moment, trying to stay focused on her mission. "Mama didn't say, but she looks so scared."
"No doubt where he caught it from, then." The cook half grumbled. Eugene couldn't tell if she was angry or what, because that was how she usually talked. She was most likely worried. "Look, lad," she spoke quickly, turning to him for a second. "I'll see to the servants getting your father into the house. You run along upstairs. Tell you're grandmother what's happened, she was in your parent's suite, and then for the doctor. Right, lad?"
"What about the bedding? Mamma was washing today-"
"Ahh!" She cried, throwing her hands on the air. "Then's the day that I forget my work and a prince remembers it. Yes, lad. There are chamberlains and maids still aplenty up in the rooms. I think that your grandmother will tell them what ought be done." Eugene nodded vigorously and shot off through the castle. Blast! Finally a chance to run in the palace and the thought never came to his mind for him to enjoy it! The cook watched him only for a moment before returning to her quest. She shook her head in sad worry. She did not know if young Eugene really understood just how serious things had become.