Published: December 5th, 2021
"How did that just happen?" Flynn asks, turning to face Rapunzel.
"Um... I have magic hair that glows when I sing?" she says uncertainly.
"How did it heal her?" he clarifies, gesturing to you.
"I don't really know," Rapunzel says. "It's always been able to do that. Please, don't be scared of me."
"Are you kidding?" he says, a smile creeping onto his face. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
"That could've gone a lot worse," you mutter.
"So you have to sing? Or can you just speak the song?" he inquires.
"You've gotta sing it," she says. Flynn continues interviewing her about her powers and you fall behind, feeling a little left out. Of course people would like Rapunzel better. As Mother always said, she's special. You're not. She's the one with the powers, so you'll always be everyone's second choice -- if even that. Suddenly, a realization hits you like a ton of bricks; Mother only says "I love you most" to Rapunzel. I will not cry. I will not cry, you tell yourself. You focus on not stepping on Rapunzel's hair.
After a few minutes of trying to convince yourself that your mother loves you, Flynn notices how quiet you've been. He falls back to walk next to you.
"You good, killer?" he asks. "You look kinda down."
"What? No, I'm good. Are you?" you say calmly, tucking the frying pan under your arm.
"I'm okay," he says, looking over at you expectantly. You move your gaze to Rapunzel ahead of you, who conveniently was looking over her shoulder to see what was happening. You give her a little wave. She smiles and continues on.
"You sure?" he asks again. You sigh.
"What do you want?" you ask, still watching the back of Rapunzel's head.
"Nothing. Well, the satchel, but that's not what I mean," he says, furrowing his eyebrows.
You swallow. "Have you seen the lights before?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Plenty of times,"
"What are they like?" you ask hopefully, glad to have changed the subject.
"You'll just have to see," he says, a smile in his voice. Your heart leaps; he's finally accepted the deal. You smile too.
"So, are you and Rapunzel related?" he implores.
"We're sisters," you say. Isn't it obvious?
He scoffs. "I can see the resemblance." You can't tell whether he's being sarcastic. He changes the subject again. "How long have you wanted to see the lanterns?"
"Goodness. Forever?" you try. "She's turning thirteen. For the last... I don't know, eight birthdays it's all she's wanted. It's all I want for her. How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"Really? You do not look like a teenager."
"Because one year makes such a difference," he rolls his eyes. "What about you?"
"Seventeen."
"Really? You do not look like a teenager," he mocks.
"Guys! I found the path!" Rapunzel says excitedly. Just ahead, you spot a cobbled path leading through the densely wooded area.
"So we should go left, right?" Flynn asks.
"Excuse me?" Rapunzel says, confused.
"What?" he states, taken aback.
"Yes. We go left." you say. You're suddenly in a much better mood.
The stones are cold under your feet and the trees make a sort of tunnel. The sun makes patterns dance on the ground as you pass a road sign.
"Yep. Corona is this way," Flynn says, confirming that you are headed in the right direction. (yes, the kingdom is actually called corona)
Rapunzel skips ahead of you and you beam. You were gonna do it; you were finally going to see the lights.
"We still have a few days before your birthday, though," you say to Rapunzel. "What do we do until then?"
"Well, we'll reach Corona by the end of today. We should probably find an inn or something to stay in," Flynn says.
"Mother will be home tomorrow," you realize. Rapunzel visibly deflates.
"I don't want to think about what she'll do," she says quietly.
"Okay," you say, barely audible.
"Well that mood changed fast," Flynn remarks. You continue on the path for another half hour in silence. You listen to the wind whispering through the trees, one thing stuck in your mind. Why was Flynn Rider wanted at such a young age? What made him resort to stealing from royalty?
Rapunzel breaks the silence.
"How many people live in the kingdom?" she wonders.
"A lot. A thousand, at least," Flynn answers.
"A thousand people? Like, actual, living people?" you ask, fascinated.
"No, they're all fake, dead ones."
Your eyes widen before you realize he's being sarcastic. He chuckles before continuing, "You should expect your hair to be trampled, blondie."
"Oh, no," she says, halting.
"It's okay, I can braid it. It'll at least be shorter that way," you offer.
"Okay," Rapunzel smiles.
~+~
You finally make it to the ocean an hour or two later, and daylight is already dwindling.
You stop and inhale, looking at the island full of buildings and surrounded by ships.
"The first thing we're doing when we get in there is getting you some boots," Flynn says, stepping next to you, but talking to both of you.
"We don't have money," Rapunzel says.
"Welcome to my life," Flynn mutters.
"I feel like we should camp out again and go in in the morning," Rapunzel says slowly.
"Okay," you shrug.
"Fine by me," Flynn agrees. Part of you is excited; maybe you'll have another conversation with him tonight. You all walk into the woods a few hundred yards and make camp for the night. However, this time it's you who falls asleep first.
~+~
When you wake up, it's still dark. Rapunzel's hair is draped over you, and she sleeps a few feet away from you. You sit up, her locks gently falling off of you. You rub your eyes and look around for Flynn. A shot of adrenaline runs through you as you feel around for the satchel -- but then you quickly remember that you handed it to Rapunzel earlier. It's tucked safely under her arm and she lightly snores.
"I didn't take it," you hear from behind you. "Don't worry."
"Do you ever sleep?" you ask Flynn incredulously, heart still pounding.
"Apparently not," he says.
"Where did you go?"
"I am but a fair maiden, simply looking for an equally fair place to tinkle," he replies, mocking you yet again.
"Piddle," you correct.
"My bad," he says, sitting down next to you. You're acutely aware of his body heat radiating on your skin.
He says, "You fell asleep and missed my sob story," with an exaggerated pout.
"Oh?" you say, turning to him and freezing when you realize how close your faces are. You can feel his breath tickle your nose. You quickly look down at your hands. You pick at your thumbs.
He pauses awkwardly before elaborating. "Yes, the story of poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert."
"Who's that?" you ask, lifting your head a little but still focusing on your fingertips. There's this one hangnail that you just can't get a good enough hold on to pull-
"Me," he answers simply. Your head darts up.
"Oh," you say. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
"It's okay, I never met my parents," he shrugs.
"I've never met my father," you say. "Mother says I look like him. I don't know if that's just her calling me mannish, though."
"You're not mannish," he says. "You've gotta stop bringing yourself down like that."
"Like what?" you ask, surprised.
"Rapunzel said that you get trapped in your own head sometimes," he says, looking away, worrying that he's said too much.
"Of course, she did... what else did you guys talk about?"
He shrugs. "Not much. She fell asleep pretty soon after that."
"Okay," you laugh awkwardly. You remember something; you and Rapunzel used to play a game when you were little. You would create insanely random sentences that made no sense and try have a conversation that way without laughing. You wonder what Flynn -- no, Eugene -- would do if you said something random like that.
"You know, I once met a potato. He told me that purple was the best way to talk to a cactus," you say with a straight face.
"Pardon?" he says, taken aback. You grin, laughing silently. "Oh. I see," he says, smiling too, "I always thought it was starfish that made concrete float, but you've proven me wrong."
"Very good," you say, nudging him with your arm. "You'll be a professional in no time."
"Thank you, thank you. I try," he says, leaning back.
"The stars are pretty," you mutter, leaning back also and looking up. They're so familiar yet so foreign. You've charted them plenty of times.
"They are, aren't they? I've never really looked at them. It's like a thousand tiny flames just floating around out there," he notes before adding, "like your lanterns."
"I know we've kind of forced you into this, but thank you anyway," you say, looking back over to him.
"'Course," he shrugs.
You scooch down again, gathering some of Rapunzel's hair as a pillow, signaling that you're ready for sleep. You start counting the stars.
"Good night, (y/n)," he says.
"Good night, Eugene Fitzherbert."