Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Past

“This is it,” Varian mumbled, breaking the grim silence that had overtaken the room for days.

He blinked, startled by the sound of his own voice, hoarse with disuse. 

The room was dim, a bleak aura hanging over its only inhabitant. Cracks littered the bricks and rubble was strewn around the floor. Spider webs were strung around the corners of the room, and through the window above his work table Varian could see the once bustling, quaint village dilapidated and abandoned. Shiny spires of black rock protruded from the warped stone floor beneath him, a foreboding reminder of the devastation that had struck his home.

He stared up at his father, encased in amber, arm outstretched to deliver a letter that wouldn’t be read. He was frozen in a position that told of desperation, eyes shut tight. Translucent amber surrounded him in a large structure, twisting out like thorny brambles. The dim glow of the lights above shone through the amber, making it a warm yellow orange, like honey. Varian reached out to his father, suspended in the structure, as if to touch him, but his gloved hand met the face of the resin. 

He had tried, over and over to free him, but still it hadn’t worked. Nothing was working. The Sundrop was utterly useless. Everyone around was utterly useless, turning their backs on him during his time of need. (And god, Rapunzel. She was a liar, it was plain to see now. “ I was so worried about you,” she had said. Well then where was she in the months after the blizzard? Where was she as he struggled and pleaded and begged alone, tossed out of the castle to fend for himself? Where was she then?)

His hand clenched into a fist.

“I’m going to fix this,” he promised, voice wavering, although Ruddiger was the only one there to hear.

He wrenched his eyes away from his dad to stare at his newest attempt to free him. This time, it would work. This time , he wouldn’t fail. The crushing hopelessness of disappointment wasn’t something he wanted to bear again. He’s not sure if it’s something he could bear again.

His newest creation was a portal, of sorts, although that’s hardly what he’d call it. He’d repurposed (stolen) blueprints that had been created by Demanitus. They were well thought out, clearly, but the purpose of the machine depicted seemed oddly vague. It was definitely meant for transportation, although Varian wasn’t quite sure the extent of it.

Nevertheless, he had fashioned some ideas from the blueprints into what he hoped was essentially a short distance teleportation device. After all, the amber itself was unbreakable, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t move what (or who) was caught inside of it. So theoretically, the device would be able to transport his dad out of the amber, freeing him.

He had sent things through, and they had ended up where he wanted them to be, although they tended to pop out more… worn than before. Not by much, but small bolts and screws he had attempted to send through came out slightly rusted and dirty before returning to normal the next morning, so, luckily, it seemed to be working.

So, he steeled himself, turning to Ruddiger, managing a wary little grin. 

“Okay,” he said, mustering up confidence. “Let’s do this, Ruddiger.”

He scooped Ruddiger into his arms, the raccoon chittering amiably and climbing onto his shoulders.

Varian flipped his goggles on and stepped up to the portal, turning dials and flipping switches before stopping to hover over a large button.

He took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

He slammed his gloved hand on the button.

In the past, the portal had opened with a little burst of energy, and would sit like a mirror, easy for Varian to push things into. 

But this time, the portal flared to life in a blaze of brilliant emerald green. The portal burned brightly, unlike the usual dim jade light. 

Varian found he had to fight to keep his eyes open, even behind his goggles. He lifted a hand to shield his face from not only the bright light, but also the sudden gust of wind blowing around the room. 

A sudden squall burst forth from the portal, sweeping up blueprints and books. Notes were torn from where they were hung on the walls, and his work table rattled like thunder, glass bottles and beakers clinking together as they were picked up by wind. 

Varian looked around frantically, clutching to Ruddiger and caught in the eye of the mini hurricane. He ducked as a glass bottle was thrown by the wind, and it shattered against the brick wall, narrowly missing his head. 

“Oh no, no no no!” He breathed, voice still hoarse, as all of the progress he made was destroyed. 

Then, as abruptly as it had started, the wind stopped, and with its halt, everything began to fall back down. 

Varian had a second to process what had just happened again before the portal flared into an even brighter green and began pulling things into it.  

Books and notes and glass shards all flew through the vortex that the portal had become, and Varian struggled helplessly against the overpowering vacuum that the portal had become. 

He made for the control panel, attempting an emergency shut down, grappling with the overwhelming force the portal was creating. The machine clanked and coughed in a way that indicated that something was definitely wrong. (Not that it needed to, because clearly something was wrong.)

Ruddiger let out a little scream, scrabbling for purchase and tearing the back of Varian’s shirt  as he was caught in the whirlwind, sucked into the portal.

Varian yelped, the hand that had been shielding his face reaching forward belatedly. “Ruddiger!” He called after the raccoon, to no avail. In his moment of distraction, he was pulled off balance, and he scrunched his eyes shut as he was engulfed by the lime green glow.

-

Future

“This is it!” Varian cheered (squealed), staring down at the map clutched in his hands. 

He blinked, slightly embarrassed by the odd tone of voice.

Their camp was quiet but for the comforting sound of the fire crackling in the middle of the spot they’d settled in, and the quiet hum of the summer night. Cicadas hummed their little chorus and crickets chirped cheerfully.

He looked up from the map at Hugo, who raised an amused brow at him, the sharp angles of his face lit by the yellow orange glow of the fire. Catching the warm light of the fire, Hugo’s hair gleamed a gentle honey blond, green eyes reflecting the firelight like embers twinkled with amusement.

Varian blinked, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he had been staring, and Hugo was mocking his squeal of excitement.

Hugo stared back at him, a smug little grin on his face and condescension clear in his eyes. Varian narrowed his eyes, annoyed. Hugo apparently didn’t find it very intimidating, letting out a huff of laughter at whatever face Varian was making.

Varian elbowed him in the side in response, flustered. “Shut up.”

Hugo’s stupid smirk only seemed to grow at that. “I didn’t even say anything,” he snarked back. 

Varian rolled his eyes, but deigned not to respond, because he knew they’d end up going at it all night. (And judging by the look Nuru was giving him, she would probably kill him if they did that again.)

Varian, through well practiced haggling and selling his rations for the day, had procured a map pointing as to where the next totem was, despite a certain someone’s “ingenious” suggestion of, “ Why don’t we just steal it?”

It seemed like they were on track for the next totem in record time, judging by the map in Varian’s hands, which meant he could relax for a night. He rolled up the map, walking over to his tent to stuff it into his bag, stopping to give Ruddiger a pet on the way.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, and Varian stumbled, thrown off balance. Ruddiger blinked up at him, concerned, but Varian just clutched at his head, a migraine beginning to form. Ruddiger ran to alert someone, and Varian shuddered as a sudden burst of pain lanced through his head. 

Varian sank to a crouch and shoved his hands over his ears, his newly formed headache being made worse by a ringing in his ears. Ruddiger tugged at his pant leg, and Varian could distantly hear his friends approaching.

Then, just as someone moved to ask if he was okay, Varian’s ears popped and the world turned bright green.

-

Past

When Varian blinked away the green burnt into his retinas, he was very nauseous. His ears rang painfully and he tried to readjust to the sudden new location. The sudden, familiar sear of a migraine made itself known, and he groaned, hands clamping over his ears to block out the sudden confused voices surrounding him.

He trembled where he sat in the grass(?), knees wobbling and head pounding. Someone stepped towards him, and he looked up through a veil of tears at someone he didn’t recognize.

They placed their hands on his shoulders, and Varian had just enough time to turn to the side and violently dispel the contents of his stomach before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.

-

Future

As Varian came to his senses again, he held a hand to his forehead, groaning in pain. He cracked his eyes open to find… no.

No no no .

Varian backed against a familiar wooden work table, dropping to sit against it. Glass shards littering the ground dug into his palms, and his eyes burned with tears. He could feel himself trembling, but it was as if he was a passive observer in his own body, frozen.

Varian sat, petrified, and surrounded by ripped notes, destroyed books, and a littering of glass shards. An odd machine whirred quietly to his right, clunky in a way that only Varian’s old creations had been. Spiderwebs hung in corners, hanging off the ceiling, and the room was dim, save for the low glow emitting from the flickering lights above. The room was dilapidated, jet black rocks jutting out of the ground like thorns, scattering pieces of the stone floor from where they extended out.

Varian stared up through the haze of pain at his dad, suspended in amber.

“Dad?” He managed, voice ragged and hysterical, before he passed out, face smashing against glass shards littered on the cold stone ground.

Chapter Text

Past

Varian awoke slowly, mouth dry and throat scratchy, a mild headache throbbing in his skull. Three voices argued quietly around him, occasionally raising in volume before one shushed the other two. He shifted, snorting as something tickled against his nose. The arguing seemed to only grow louder at the sound. He pressed further against the thin cloth surface he was laying on, uncomfortable. A raspy groan snaked out from his mouth, and the discussion seemed to get even louder, almost frenzied. He frowned, annoyance increasing, catching bits and pieces of conversation. 

…Wait.

Conversation?

Varian jolted up, to the dismay of his screaming muscles and now pounding migraine. Dizzily, he made an aborted motion, about to clutch at his head, before realizing the heated squabbling had stopped, and three strangers were staring at him, wide eyed. 

The person in the middle was staring at him unabashedly, round red eyes wide with curiosity and almost… wonder(?). His cheeks were still rounded with baby fat and he was shorter than the other two, closer to Varian’s height. Likely the youngest in the group. 

Over the head of the kid in the middle, the other two were glaring at each other, conversing without words. 

To the right was a girl, with dark skin and dark hair, pinned up in a way that suited utility but was still decorative. Ornate star themed jewelry adorned her outfit, which was equally ostentatious. Varian narrowed his eyes at her. Her outfit screamed noble on an expedition, perhaps even royalty. 

The girl shot a look at the third stranger, seemingly the oldest of the group, if he was to judge based on height. He had angular features and a wild, choppy haircut. His emerald green eyes were sharp, almost urgently shooting daggers at the noble looking girl. His body language seemed languid at a first glance, but upon closer inspection, he was tense like a coiled spring.

Varian allowed himself to glance around while they were distracted. They were in a campsite, in the forest, probably on an expedition? But how did he get here, in the middle of who knows where? 

The last thing he remembers is…

The teleporter.

No. No no no no. 

Varian’s blood turned to ice as he searched the forest around him for a trace of familiarity, a hint of home. He stumbled to his feet shakily, heart in his throat. Everything was all wrong. Corona’s grass had never been this sparse. Corona didn’t have pine trees.

So where the fuck was he? Koto? Ingvarr? Galcrest? Who knew!

Varian distantly felt a sort of horror seep through his bones, a spectator in his own body. Numbly, almost mechanically, he took a step back from the cot they’d set him on, the campsite he’d teleported to, the random strangers staring at him, pitying. 

Through the haze of panic, Varian was remotely aware of the girl’s golden eyes turning to him, concerned, the angular boy’s frown parting to speak, the worried look in the young boy’s eyes. 

He breathed in shakily, throat sore, as if he’d swallowed gravel, and bolted.

Someone shouted after him. 

He didn’t look back.

Future

Varian awoke with a lurch, a nightmare already forgotten clinging to the recesses of his mind, only to slam his forehead against solid wood, a dull thud and a hoarse yelp echoing throughout the previously silent room.

He rubbed at his forehead, groaning. A migraine was beginning to make itself known, definitely not made better by slamming his head against something. His muscles ached, and even the short cry he had let out had grated against his gravelly, parched throat. His face stung, littered with small scratches and cuts.

He cracked an eye open to peer at… his dad… who was suspended in amber.

“Okay,” he managed, hysterical, the air pressing down around him. 

“Okay!” He chirped, voice ragged and almost manic.

Sunlight peeked through the windows and caught on the shattered glass that littered the floor. Light reflected off of the pieces, like a little galaxy. The room was dim but for the sliver of light streaming through the window, the lights having gone out at some point while he was asleep. 

And directly in front of him stood his dad, trapped in golden yellow resin, his worst nightmare back to life. The image was seared into his brain, and seeing it again landed a pit right in Varian’s stomach, a gruesome reminder of his past. It was as if he was back again, to the worst years of his life. 

… Wait a minute.

He’s back again. To the worst year of his life!  

Varian shot up, having grown so panicked that it looped back around into not being panicked, only to bump his head on the underside of a worktable, again.

Varian swore, feeling like his brain was throbbing, and crawled out from underneath the wooden table, whole body tender. He got to his feet, wobbly, and tried his best not to look at his worst fear, planted firmly in the middle of the room. 

He turned to his notes, although they weren’t exactly as he had remembered. The withered sundrop lay on the table, strewn aside carelessly, probably in a fit of rage. Varian tossed it to the floor, petty. There weren’t any plans to use Rapunzel’s hair as a drill, so he could only hope that his fourteen year old self had not yet committed animal cruelty, kidnapping, or attempted murder.

So at least he had that going for him. Hooray.

At the top of the pile, there were (likely stolen) blueprints for a portal. He furrowed his eyebrows. This was new. He had never attempted something like this at fourteen. The plan seemed to be an attempt at a short distance teleporter that would allow his dad to be teleported outside of the amber. “Transportation,” was underlined, likely the part that his younger self was able to best translate and had latched onto, desperate.

However, his younger self had failed to translate it fully. The blueprint went on to explain transportation through time . He groaned, a raspy, miserable sound.

Varian, head still pounding, facepalmed. He was kind of a stupid fourteen year old, wasn’t he?

Chapter Text

Future

Varian swallowed down the pit of frustration and anxiety pooling in his gut, staring at the poorly translated ancient blueprint. It’s unlikely that his past self had intentionally sent himself through the portal, so the machine probably malfunctioned. He glanced at said machine, clunky and messy. He had the knowledge to fix the portal, even make it better than before. He could fix this, go back to the future and send his younger self to the past. 

But… he didn’t need to. 

Varian brought a hand up to his chin, pondering. He began to pace, well worn travel boots quietly scuffing against the stone floor. 

Theoretically, he could try and change things in the past. He could go get Rapunzel, tell her he was from the future, and then get her to free his dad, and then fix the portal, bringing his younger self back to where he was supposed to be, assuming his younger self had swapped places with him. But then again, without Varian’s attempt to “bring Corona to its knees,” Rapunzel would have never controlled the black rocks, therefore never causing the rocks to form a path, and then Corona would be ravaged by rocks just like Old Corona. 

Ten steps, turn, ten steps.

So, again, theoretically, he could advise Rapunzel on her journey by guiding her to the black rocks and preventing every bad thing from happening. But in the future, everything had turned out alright because the bad things had happened. So if he were to prevent every major event, like Cassandra’s betrayal and Zhan Tiri’s return, it might make things worse. But if he changes things so drastically will that change what happened in his own past? 

Varian frowned, headache not being made any better by his theoreticals. He tapped his finger against his chin. But if he changed things only just so, fixing them completely instead of stopping them from happening, could he make things better for everyone? If Cassandra hadn’t betrayed Rapunzel, if he hadn’t kidnapped the queen, if the Saporians never got the chance to take over, wouldn’t it be better?

…If he really had the chance to change things for the better, even a little, shouldn’t he take it?

His reflection was interrupted by a quiet chitter behind him. Ruddiger.

Varian blinked down at the raccoon owlishly, before looking back at himself. Himself, who was eighteen and who looked much different than lanky, fourteen year old Varian. He rushed to explain.

 “Okay- so, uh. I know I don’t look like your Varian, but I promise I am Varian, it’s just-” 

Ruddiger shook his head, chirruping, before scrambling up Varian’s clothes to slot into his spot around his shoulders. His wet nose pressed gently against his cheek in a familiar motion, and Varian beamed, pulling Ruddiger from his shoulders into a tight hug. He chattered happily, and Varian swallowed down tears of relief. He wasn’t alone.

“Ruddiger!” He grinned against gray fur, “You’re here!”

Varian allowed the raccoon to climb back onto his shoulders so he could explain, “Okay so I’ve been looking through his- my? blueprints, and basically we got sent back in time. And I’ve been thinking about it, and we should try and change the past without messing it up too much. I think our first move should be to find out how to give Rapunzel advice withou–” He was cut off by hacking coughs, momentarily forgotten raspy throat suddenly remembered. The raccoon stared at him, concerned.

Once his coughing fit had ended, Varian swallowed, throat gravelly. “Maybe our first move should be a glass of water,” he smiled, sheepish.

Past

Varian dashed through the pine forest, the unfamiliar forest seeming like a maze under his haze of panic. Without the warm light of the campfire, the woods were near pitch-black, and the cold chill had begun to cut through his patchy clothes and ratty apron, outfit suited towards the mild weather in Corona, not the freezing winters of wherever the hell he was.

He scrabbled through the forest, no idea where he was going, stumbling over his own feet all the while. He just needed to run . He just had to get away from the strangers and the stupid campsite.

He just wanted to go home .

He tripped over his feet, catching himself with gloves hands before he could land face down on the ground. He dry heaved, retching over the cold, dry ground, knees wet with melted frost. He gagged as his throat burned, his body trying to expel nothing. 

Varian shook, body wracked with hacking coughs, and already sore arms threatening to give out from under him. He allowed himself to collapse onto the ground, laying on his side. 

And yet, even as the coughing subsided, he couldn’t take a gasp of air, breaths short and shallow. He curled into himself, panting, into a fetal position. He gasped, trying to drink in air,  and suffocating on nothing. He stared up, into the dark, unforgiving sky, clouded over with wisps of clouds, trying to breathe. His vision was spotty, and his ears rang.

Then, unceremoniously, gentle as a gust of wind, it began to snow. White began to dance down to earth, like feathers gliding in the wind. Frost began to dust the pine trees, like powdered sugar.

Varian stared through the drifting snow up at the night sky, and suddenly, he was rushing through a blizzard, in search of help for his father, cold seeping into his bones and the wind whistling its terrible song. Suddenly, he was back again, lost and alone, vision white. 

The wind bit at his cheeks and nose, body so cold it was burning. Little flakes of snow caught in his eyelashes, memories flashing through his head. He shook, though not from the cold. His breaths, rapid and winded, coming out with little puffs of condensation. 

His thoughts chugged along like molasses, or a clunky machine. Everything ached, and his dad was in danger, and now, despite everything, he was going to die.

His eyelids fluttered, blinking up at the falling snow.

Someone’s footsteps neared, and his eyelids pitched shut.

Chapter Text

Future

Varian, obliged by Ruddiger’s chittering rebuke and his general pain and discomfort, had forced himself out of the lab to drink water and tend to his injuries. Naturally, despite drinking water, he had taken the little mirror back to his lab to tend to his injuries. He frowned, staring at his own tired face in his reflection as he picked glass shards out of his newly clean wounds. He was lucky enough to have backed underneath his work table while panicking, which seemed to have taken the brunt of any glass vials that had somehow shattered. He was equally fortunate to have not face planted on any large shards and that nothing had pierced his eyes. 

Not so lucky, however, were his goggles, which were even more scratched up than they had been before. He hissed as he pulled another little shard from his cheek, littered among his freckles. Blood dripped, and he wiped it away with cloth, attention drawn back to his haggard appearance, eyebags dark against tan skin, which held an almost sickly pallor, desaturated and sagged with exhaustion. He felt exhausted, physically and emotionally, and certainly looked the part.

He scoured his face for any evidence of more glass, but it seemed he was finished. He sighed, prying himself out of his seat to begin the tedious process of planning to change the future. 

It was still jarring, to be in the room that had plagued his nightmares for years, like a scene ripped straight from his mind. But still, Varian dutifully ignored the elephant in the room, pushing back panic to do what he knew had to be done. He didn’t bother trying to fix it up, in part because he planned to leave as soon as possible, and partly because there’s only so much one can do for a room filled with black rocks.

He layed out a loose sheet of paper, searching the mess of things on the ground for a writing tool. Furiously, he began to write. The main major events he hoped to prevent were the Saporians’ takeover, Cassandra’s betrayal, and Zhan Tiri’s return, although they did, eventually, get solved. That was his first priority.

Secondly, although it took the backseat to his other plans, he needed to find out how to get back to his own timeline. Clearly this wasn't just not his time, but not his universe altogether. Things were different here, like the fact that he had even decided to try and make a teleporter in the first place. Not to mention, he didn’t remember going forward in time in his own past.

However, this gave him the leeway to meddle with the past as he had been planning to. He could change the past here, and although it wouldn’t necessarily “fix” things for him, it was a second chance, and it was one he was going to take. 

But even if he was going to change things here, he would eventually have to go home. 

Thirdly, he needed to try and keep the timeline relatively the same as his own. Of course he would change things, like he planned, but what use was his future knowledge if this timeline deviated so greatly from that one? If he were to change things so drastically, it would create a timeline he was unable to predict, defeating the purpose of his knowledge anyway. So, in order to change things like he wanted to, he’d have to influence the future in the way he wanted while still not showing his hand straight away. After all, his meddling could also lead to something catastrophic, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings or the want of a nail.

Which led to the biggest issue he needed to deal with. How exactly would he get Rapunzel to begin her journey to the source of the black rocks without the threat of the queen’s death? He furrowed his brows, tapping his pen to the paper. If he wanted things to stay closer to what they had been for him, despite the drastic change that had already been caused by him being there, it wasn’t as if he could waltz up to Rapunzel and say, “I’m from the future but I can’t tell you everything so you’ll just have to follow what I say.” 

Yeah right . 

And though he didn’t look exactly like fourteen year old Varian, it was still obvious that he was Varian. His shoulders were broader, his face had lost its baby fat, and he was taller, sure, but he had the same buck teeth and tan skin and bright teal hair stripe.

So what was the solution? What wasn’t he seeing here? He frowned, fingers brought to his chin in thought. 

His eyes wandered from his paper to the mirror he had left on his worktable, leaning against the wall. He blinked, leaning closer to the mirror to stare at himself again. The solution was simple.

He couldn’t be Varian.

He wrenched his gaze from his hair to the ground, at the glass shards, reflecting light like crystals. He bent over to the glass, and gingerly, he plucked one of the larger shards up with his gloved hands, bringing it to his distinct blue streak as he stood. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, a little pit in his stomach. It would grow back, anyway.

He brought the sharp piece of glass to the stripe in his hair and cut .

Blue hair fell to the floor like feathers, sitting on stone almost delicately. 

He tucked what was left of the blue streak behind his ear and stared at himself, at his dark hair.

He stared at his face, tired and weary, and shakily, he smiled.

It was time to start thinking about disguises.

Past

Varian awoke quietly, his breath shallow and wheezing, brow dripping with sweat. He swallowed, feeling even worse than he had earlier, skin clammy and body at a fever pitch. Still, he shivered, chills running up and down his spine. He cracked an eye open, throat filled with phlegm. He was tucked under blankets, Ruddiger curled in his lap. So he and Ruddiger had ended up in the same place, at the very least. He might greet him if he didn’t feel terrible, the familiar malaise of sickness hanging over him like a storm cloud coupled with the sheer misery coursing through him because of his failure. A cool rag rested against his forehead, though it offered little reprieve from his feverish temperature.

Sunlight streamed through the singular window, beaming through white curtains. He was in a bedroom, the floor wooden and chocolate colored. To his left, there was another narrow bed, identical to the one he was laying in. The beds were both against corners, a small window separating them. An inn, probably, judging by the fact that the three travelers had been in the woods yesterday. It was better than out in the snow, at least.

He mumbled something nonsensical, lips cracked and dry. His breath caught in his throat, and he fell into a coughing fit, much like the one he’d had earlier(yesterday?). His whole body was wracked by the coughs, heaving for air until they slowly subsided into short gasps. Ruddiger awoke, squeaking, in a way Varian knew well enough to mean he was concerned. 

The door to the room he was in creaked open quietly. Varian blinked as the star clad girl he had seen at the campsite earlier peeked at him, and he realized, belatedly, that he should’ve pretended to be asleep. 

“Hello,” she greeted, tone gentle, as if she cared. 

Varian leveled a glare at her that he hoped was more intimidating than it felt. She didn’t flinch, though he wasn’t sure if that spoke more to her experience as a mediator or his general lack of intimidation factor. She strode to the bed, despite his attempt at protest, and Ruddiger didn’t even bother trying to ward her off, seemingly content to allow her to give him a glass of water. 

He sat up, propped against his pillow, and she took the wet rag in exchange for the water. He sipped gently at the surface, eyes narrowed at her and thirst making itself known. The water was actually a relief, cooling down his temperature and soothing his throat. But, he refused to show her any evidence of gratefulness, continuing to sip at the water mildly, scowling at her encouraging look all the while. She didn’t speak as he sipped the water, and Varian began to tire of her pity.

She reminded him of Rapunzel, in a way, gold eyes kind and gentle, alight with a promise she didn’t mean. She certainly looked like a princess. Her hair was much too well cared for to be anything but nobility, seeming to shimmer like stars in the night sky. She had too much jewelry to be a commoner, too, her dress sleek with a sheer layer overtop, glitzy in only a way a noble could be. 

“Where are we?” He managed, voice hoarse and tone cold. It was clearly far enough from Corona that he hadn’t been arrested. His already less than stellar mood dampened even more at the reminder. How would he get back? How would he help his dad from entire kingdoms away?

There was something unreadable in her eyes at the question, though her smile remained calm and placating. Varian fought to keep down the awful mix of desperation and anger in his chest from boiling out, jaw clenched at her smile. It was like Rapunzel, on that day, when he was  shut out and left on his own. His hand shook where it was holding a bunched handful of blanket.

“Galcrest.” She said, and Varian swallowed down tears, turning his head away from the girl. Ruddiger made a comforting little chur, curling closer to him. He sniffled, refusing to cry in front of this random stranger. There was no way he could get back now. No way anyone would be there to help his dad. He almost wishes he had died in that stupid forest.

“But…” She trailed off, and Varian looked back at her, tears threatening to spill over. “Varian,” she said, and how did she know his name? A better question, how did she know who he was and not turn him into Corona immediately?

“How old are you?” She asked, and Varian looked to see that her little attempt at a smile had disappeared, an uncertain look on her face. What an odd question.

“Fourteen,” he snapped. “Why do you care?”

But before he could ask any of his questions, she grimaced.

“Varian,” she began. “You’re four years in the future.”

Chapter Text

Past

“No,” Varian managed, but his thoughts kept turning back to the ancient blueprint, poorly translated. He thought of the girl who’d known his name but not his past, to the strangers on the expedition calling after him as he ran through the forest. “ No ,” he choked out again, the syllable burning through his brain in a familiar mantra that came with the panic bubbling up in his chest. His vision blurred, and distantly, he was aware of the girl moving towards him. Ruddiger bristled, defensive, as Varian struggled for air for the upteenth time. He heaved for breath, the sickness rattling in his chest not helpful to his endeavor at all. 

“Varian,” the girl said, firm though not unkind. Her clear voice cut through the fog in his head and the blurriness rimming his vision. “I need you to breathe, alright?” She said, gently, as if it was a question. 

No. He thought. No. Because if he was gone, who'd notice he was missing? Who would care? Would anyone spare even a stray thought for the boy on the wanted poster? Or would he fade into obscurity, left as nothing but outdated gossip? His thoughts were frantically scattered, and made even worse by the new sickness settled into his lungs, but eventually, they settled into one question.

If he was stuck here, then who’d help his dad ?

“Breathe,” a voice reminded him. He gasped harshly, body not functioning the way he wanted to. His breath caught in his throat and he hacked against phlegm. A hand pat gently against his back and where did that come from wasn’t Ruddiger protecting him-?

  “In for seven,” the girl told him. Varian inhaled. One two three four. He kept trying to take in air without hiccuping. The quiet, steady counting helped to calm the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Five six seven. “Hold for four,” Varian held his breath in, and clenched his teeth until his skull ached, accompanied by gentle, rhythmic counting. “Out for seven,” Varian hiccuped, but did as she said, breath quivering and catching.

He and the noble-looking girl sat there for a while, just breathing, the room quiet but for the repeating numbers. Her hand rested on his back and his fists stayed clenched tightly in the sheets, teeth still pressed against each other and shoulders still tensed. Varian shivered involuntarily, thoughts calmed slightly. 

But along with the panic slowly releasing its grip on him came the familiar concoction of grief and anger. Desperation and hate curled around his chest in a shield he had become accustomed to wearing. Varian grit his teeth against the panic, and breathed.

“Are you alright?” Asked the girl. 

Varian bit down on the inside of his cheek until he could taste iron to keep himself from asking about his future self or something equally stupid. “When can I go back?” He bit out in lieu of answering, voice more vulnerable then he wanted it to be. He swallowed down the insults and the self pity forming on his tongue alike, hands balling in the white sheets. 

She blinked at him, surprise beginning to show in her gaze. “We actually don’t know why you’re here, so we were wondering if it might’ve been something that you were doing before you were… transported here.”

Of course . Varian suppressed the urge to wince. Stupid . They couldn’t have known about the failed teleporter. He was the one who caused it. He nearly reached up to rap a knuckle against his head but thought better of it,keeping his hands twisting into blankets. “My teleporter broke.” He scowled, hoping to keep his answer as vague and as short as possible. Don’t ask why. He thought, trying to push the plea into the universe. Don’t ask why.

“Oh!” The girl said, almost pleased at the idea. Varian raised an eyebrow at her tone. What At least one of us is amused. She blinked at his questioning look. “Ah, right. It’s just that, er, future Varian? Our Varian? He’ll probably be able to fix whatever the problem was with your machine, and then you’ll be free to go home.”

Varian had to bury the urge to blanch at the word “ Home .” Yeah right. He wondered if future Varian had even bothered mentioning his stint in treason and making Corona pay to his Royal Travel Buddy. 

“I’m a friend of future you,” she said. “Princess Nuru of the Air Kingdom, pleased to meet you.” Varian twitched at her use of the word friend . Had his future self really not learned anything , becoming friends with another princess? 

-

Future

Varian wandered through the market, a bandana pulled over his face so as to not get recognized. He was much taller and broader than his past self, and the telltale blue streak in his hair (or what was left of it at least) was tucked behind his ear, but he didn't want to risk attracting any unnecessary attention. Although the bandana did look somewhat suspicious, it wouldn’t be much less suspicious if he was found to look exactly like one of the most wanted criminals in Corona.

He ducked into the crowd, searching for something to use to disguise himself in correspondence with the items he’d already collected. He had modified a pair of goggles to be tinted enough that people couldn’t clearly see his eyes through them, and added an extension to help him with more intricate inventions just in case, similar to the ones he’d seen jewelers use in the past. Paired with a respirator that he’d used when dealing with particularly noxious chemicals, it would cover his face in a way that was practical (and also looked cool). Sure, he may look a little strange, and get marks on his face from constantly wearing a respirator and goggles, but it was a small price to pay to change the future safely. (And stylishly.)

So, he was searching for items that could help hide other identifiable features. Or any features, really. Anything that might help him obscure himself so that one’s first thought when seeing him wouldn’t be “is that The Alchemist?!”

What ended up catching his attention was an almost velvety, black cloak. Its hood would help to better disguise his hair and cast a shadow over his face should anyone have an opportunity to catch a glimpse of it. It was long enough to obscure his body, but short enough to allow motion. It was also the kind of thing he might be interested in when he was still looking for a “villain outfit.” He winced at the thought, but moved to purchase the item anyway before realizing his blatant oversight. 

Money . Fuck.

He gnawed on his lip beneath the bandana. The cloak was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for, and should he leave to try and find a way to pay for it, it could be gone already. He let out a frustrated huff, already turning to leave. But before he could start walking, something made him recall a suggestion from a certain someone. He grimaced at the thought of taking something that someone had clearly made to be compensated for. 

He glanced around hesitantly. He would just… pay them back later. It was just one cloak, wasn’t it?

Varian sighed and allowed an alchemical smoke bomb to roll to the ground from in between his fingers.

He was already a felon anyway .

-

Past

If there was one thing Varian had learned about the strange, allegedly “ super talented and smart” future version of himself, it was that something drastic must have happened between the gap between their times. From the radiant reviews of the people taking care of him, something had very clearly changed . 

Was his father freed? Was that why he apparently decided to galavant across the Seven Kingdoms, befriending a bunch of random people like a saint? He snorted. Between the three of his so-called friends, Yong, the child, Hugo, the thief, and Nuru, the princess , there was some uncomfortable parallel waiting to be drawn to his former friends. 

What did his future self even have that he didn’t? What tremendous event could have possibly happened to make his life so different from his own doppelgänger’s? How come Saint Varian got to have friends and go on adventures and have a happy ending when he got nothing ? Varian let the feeling akin to jealousy boil in his gut, if at least to keep down the constant dread and panic washing over him like a tidal wave. Being angry was good, since it could keep back the tears. 

Some friends Saint Varian had anyway , he frowned. Leaving him sick and alone on bed rest with nothing but his thoughts to dwell on and a sleeping Ruddiger to pet. He rolled his eyes at the thought, even though nobody was there to see it. 

Not to mention their complete lack of mention of his father, or of his crimes. Maybe that was it. Maybe his future version wasn’t as saintly as he seemed, lying to everyone he knew. Or maybe the friends did know, and they were the ones who weren’t as saintly as they seemed.

Varian sunk into the pillows beneath him, annoyed. Just what had happened in the last four years?

Chapter Text

Past

-

By the end of the first night spent in bedrest in his supposed future, Varian was beginning to worry again. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, petting a sleeping Ruddiger with one hand and balling his fist in the sheets with the other. He was supposed to be sleeping, too, still sick, but he couldn’t help but think about his failed teleporter every time his eyes slid shut. His condition was miserable: his throat was phlegm filled and gravelly, and his clogged nose forced him to wheeze out rattling, uncomfortable breaths between coughs. Underneath his nose, the skin was raw and red from where he kept rubbing at it, stinging painfully.

Worse still, a knot had begun to tie itself in his stomach, leaving an awful pit in his gut, worry clogging his chest. Judging by how much everyone praised his older self, one might think he’d be able to have fixed the machine already. He frowned at the thought, rubbing his fingers together through the sheets in mindless restlessness. He knew himself, and therefore, knew that if he were focusing on the project, he’d have stayed up all night working on it. 

Assuming at least that part of him hadn’t changed, surely “Incredible Genius Alchemist” Saint Varian had figured it out by then. Surely, with how everyone had described him, he would’ve been able to fix the machine. Sun , by now, fourteen year old Varian would’ve been able to solve it by then. 

Well, maybe assuming that he hadn’t changed and would pull an all-nighter when clearly much else had was too generous. Maybe, the amazingly smart and friendly Saint Varian had taken a break to volunteer at a local orphanage, or take in a stray dog. 

Varian scowled to himself, running a hand through Ruddiger’s fur. At least being annoyed at his future self could push down the panic and worry that would have eaten away at him otherwise. He sighed in annoyance and his breath caught in his throat. He coughed miserably, throat scratchy and phlegm filled, nose stuffy and stinging. 

Someone rapped their knuckles against the door in a sharp pattern, but didn’t wait for his confirmation to come in. Varian didn’t move from where he was staring up at the ceiling miserably, but from that alone, he could tell it was the thief. The one he’d talked to least out of Dear Saint Varian’s traveling buddies. The other two had delivered food for him yesterday. (Which he had hardly picked at.) And from what he could tell, Yong was overexcitable, on the brink of airheaded, an uncomfortable parallel to himself. Nuru was… the kind-hearted princess. Bright and friendly, like Rapunzel. (He tried not to let his expression sour too much at that.)

And so far, Hugo… He just seemed like an asshole.

He was the only one out of the three people traveling to badmouth his future self: calling him things like a “short stack” or “know it all.” Which was obviously an attempt to rile him up, and annoyingly, it was working. 

He was obviously the Eugene of the group. The clever, smart-mouthed thief, always giving witty quips but “kind when it really mattered.” And yet, somehow, that didn’t stop him from being a dick. (Also like Eugene.) 

He was clearly full of himself, cocky and snarky. (Varian tried not to think his outfit was cool, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the goggles with spikes around them. That was so cool. So, so cool. Varian really hated him for it.)

He snorted, wry. Did that make him the Cassandra of the group? 

Immediately his amusement evaporated upon thinking of himself as “part of the group.” He had forgotten that these three awful reflections of himself and his friends were actually his merry band of travelers. Sun , why were the four of them even traveling together? When first thinking about it, Varian had brushed it off as part of his older-self’s whole “incredible person who got redeemed” campaign, but thinking back on it, why had he specifically chosen his three companions? How did he even know them? Obviously, Nuru wasn’t Coronan, seeing as she was a princess of a foreign kingdom. Yong wasn’t Coronan, his clothes were definitely not traditionally from Corona. And Hugo. 

He was really annoying, for one, and also a literal criminal , which sure, fourteen-year-old Varian couldn’t judge him for, but an eighteen-year-old great person Varian would probably oppose. Did he meet Hugo in jail or something? Did he get banished from the kingdom and have to seek shelter with other social outcasts? Even so, why would he choose Hugo? The lack of information was seriously starting to drive him crazy. Some friends he had. They explained literally nothing to him, leaving him bedridden.

“What’s up, Pipsqueak?” Hugo grinned, snapping Varian out of his thoughts. He set down a bowl of porridge on the table next to the bed, but to Varian’s annoyance, did not turn to leave. Instead, he unceremoniously dropped down onto the foot of the bed Varian was lying in with no invitation. Varian scowled at him, refusing to respond. Hugo was obviously trying to get a rise from him on purpose, and again, was clearly not a trustworthy figure.

Hugo eyed his glare and then whistled lowly, as if impressed. “Damn. How are you simultaneously scarier and less scary than yourself now?”

What was that supposed to mean? Varian latched onto what he hoped was a genuine crumb of information other than how incredible his future self was. Varian’s glare intensified, and he couldn’t stop himself from murmuring, voice rough, “That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does,” Hugo shrugged, languid. “You look much angrier than he does…” he started, which was okay. Whatever. Sure. That made sense…

Damn it. He sighed.

He totally fell for whatever joke Hugo was planning. He did not want to hear the rest of what was probably an insult.

“But…” Hugo grinned. Varian bit on the inside of his cheek in annoyance, knowing he’d fallen for Hugo’s ploy. “Your little scary face is diminished by the fact that you’re so… little .” He laughed, pinching one of Varian’s cheeks, freckled and still round with baby fat.

Varian, greatly aggrieved, glared at him and swatted away his hand. Hugo was undeterred, prodding at his cheek incessantly. Varian slapped his hand away again, growing annoyed. He was already not in the mood to be bothered, and he doubted he’d ever be in the mood to put up with Hugo . (But still, something light and relaxed was growing in him, as he swatted Hugo’s hand away. Humor welled up in his chest, but he pushed it away.)

“Ha!” Hugo laughed, flicking the cheek he’d pinched like an old grandmother. Varian rubbed at his cheek, eyes narrowed up at him and scowl twisted in a way he hoped looked threatening. (It definitely did not.) “And I thought you were small before,” he mused, in a way that implied he was talking to himself but was clearly said out loud to make Varian even more annoyed. 

Varian grit his teeth so hard his skull ached. “Anyway, you gonna eat breakfast? ‘Cause, it definitely looks like you didn’t sleep,” Hugo pointed out, interlacing his fingers behind his neck and leaning back leisurely. When Varian didn’t reply or make any move to take the food, Hugo glanced up at him again.

“Oh, or are you just at the age where you still need to be spoon fed?” he asked, obviously not serious. Varian grumbled under his breath and sat up against the headboard of the inn bed. 

Despite the annoyance welling up, Varian found that a hint of amusement was welling up, a strange ease in the way Hugo bickered at him.

Pointedly, Varian ignored the feeling, and pushed the ghost of a smile off of his face.

Future

Varian tugged at his hair, trying to clear his head of the familiar drowsiness that came after an all-nighter. There was a mild headache beginning to form, but he wasn’t sure if it was another unpleasant side effect from the transportation device or just from lack of sleep. Annoyingly, it seemed like his attempts at a healthier sleep schedule were working, because he was clearly out of practice of staying up. If it had been a few months ago, he would’ve been perfectly fine, but now, he kept finding himself rubbing roughly at his bleary eyes. And they say all-nighters don’t do anything good for you.

A letter was stuffed safely in his vest pocket, the respirator and goggles designated as his disguise hanging around his neck and sitting atop his head respectively. The matching cloak that he had guiltily swiped the night before was draped over the chair he was sitting in, and sunlight had already begun to stream through the windows though he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He groaned, raking his hands down his face in frustration. 

He had laid out a basic outline of his plans, in which he’d deliver an anonymous letter telling Rapunzel to meet him, and then when she (probably accompanied by Cassandra and Eugene) hopefully showed up, he’d tell her vague information about the rocks, wait for her to touch them, and then set out on a journey to the dark kingdom with him as a cryptic tour guide. Then, on the way there, he’d try his best to prevent anything too bad from happening, and once they got to the dark kingdom, Rapunzel would grab the Moonstone, and everything would be fine. Hopefully .

Taking the letter out of his pocket and unfolding it, he read through it for the upteetnth time. 

“ Princess Rapunzel,

    Your kingdom is impending destruction from the black spires that threaten to ravage it. The lives of your people and the serenity of Corona are at stake, and soon, the rocks growing around your kingdom will reduce your era of peace into nothing but the halcyon days of a past long gone. This fate can be avoided if we act swiftly.

Meet me at the ruins of your old tower at dawn. I’ll be waiting. ”

It was also unsigned despite the (very clever, in his opinion) alias he had chosen for his disguise. Was that too threatening? It was fine, probably. Mysterious and prose-y enough to get his friends interested, but also giving enough information to show that he knew more than they did. He bit the inside of his cheek, reading over it again. It really wasn’t that threatening, right? Right .

So, he had already decided on a plan for his disguise, and a rough outline of a plan for how he was going to guide his friends (that would probably have to be heavily edited as he went, seeing as he didn’t have the full picture of everything that had happened on the expedition.) And as for delivering his letter…

He frowned. Judging by the fact that the Sundrop’s shriveled remains lay to rot against the floor, Rapunzel’s birthday would probably be coming up, if he hadn’t missed it. He could replicate what he did last time, and sneak through the castle and leave the letter disguised as a present. He wasn’t entirely sure of the events in the castle around this time, seeing as he was too caught up planning his revenge to really care. Then, he was sent to prison, and helped the Saporians. And afterwards… Varian winced. Nobody was really in the mood to talk about that time.

Hopefully, this letter wouldn’t change things too drastically.

Past

By the time the evening of the fourth day rolled around, Varian was beginning to feel sick. And not because he kept coughing like he was going to hack up a lung, or because his throat was clogged with mucus, or because chills kept crawling up and down his spine. It had already been almost a week since he had shown up in the future, and he still had not been sent back to his time. Nuru and Yong, during the short attempts at conversation where they’d deliver food to him (usually porridge or soup), would reassure him, citing that something must have held his future self up, but it’d probably be no time at all until he could go back. Varian really couldn’t muster up any faith in their words, but tried his best to trust himself. 

Although the original panic of arriving had finally receded, the anxiety of not knowing what exactly his future self was doing was creeping in. He pushed it down, trying to ignore the foreboding feeling brewing, and clung to the annoyance and anger the best he could instead.

In other news, Nuru kept shooting him concerned glances and Yong kept frowning at him, probably having finally realized that compared to his future self, he wasn’t exactly cheerful.  

Despite his annoyance at their common short attempts at conversation, he much preferred them to Hugo’s occasional long attempts at “conversation,” in which he’d try and goad Varian into talking to him. There was an underlying layer of almost… concern, with how Hugo interacted with him, like he was trying to make sure that Varian wasn’t fragile enough to shatter. He treated him with kiddie gloves, and yet kept probing him subtly for more information. He’d poke and prod until Varian got pissed enough to share something. Probably the only one of the group smart enough to have realized he was hiding something , Varian mused. 

Varian’s expression darkened at the thought, his stomach twisting in apprehension. Hugo could tell because he was secretive, too. Too good at avoiding questions and giving meaningless answers. He was suspicious, untrustworthy, and not just because he was a thief. He was hiding something, though Varian wasn’t sure what. Varian wouldn’t believe a word out of his mouth, and would trust him as far as he could throw him. Hugo’s weird interactions, suspicion and concern hiding underneath his teasing made him feel off. (The warm fuzzy feeling of being safe that came with them made him feel worse with himself, going against his own suspicions.)

He shook his head, trying to rid it of any positive thoughts about Hugo.

His future self may have been convinced enough to trust him , somehow, but Varian refused to let himself be betrayed again. 

Ruddiger stirred from his sleep and curled in Varian’s lap, sensing his bad mood. Varian sighed, the tension draining out of his shoulders, and patted him reassuringly. He sighed, exhausted, but still too restless to sleep. 

A soft, short knock sounded at the door, polite. Nuru, then. “Come in,” he acknowledged, reluctant, voice finally a little less scratchy. Trepidation still coursing through his blood like ice, he watched as the door creaked open to reveal the princess. Still with that awful look of pity in her molten gold eyes.

His mood soured even further at seeing her, thoughts of betrayal still fresh on his mind. Every time he looked at her, he could see nothing but Rapunzel: standing frozen, eyes wide, as he was dragged away. She didn’t trigger the same awful, bone deep disquiet as the look in Hugo’s eyes did, but the feeling that came with seeing her was almost worse. Like a figment of the past, she was too much like Rapunzel, if less bubbly. Even so, despite the different feelings that came with Nuru and Hugo, it didn’t mean she was any better, or any more trustworthy, even. 

(That was the lesson he had been taught by Rapunzel’s betrayal: that anyone could do it. Anyone could leave you desperate and alone and devastated in the cold. It didn’t matter how nice they seemed, or how close you thought you were, or even your belief that they’d be okay. It didn’t matter if Hugo felt safe, or if Nuru seemed nice. Rapunzel did too, and that didn’t stop her.

And so, it was a new truth he held close to his heart nevertheless: Nobody could be trusted.)

Varian watched her, wary, as she smiled at him gently and walked over to set a bowl on the table next to his bed. Something light. Probably more soup or porridge. It didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t eat much of it: not out of lack of hunger, but refusal to let himself become dependent on the strangers that were supposed to one day become his friends. 

“Hello,” she greeted, softly, trying for a smile. Varian scowled, staring at the wall instead. Delicately, she took a seat at the foot of the bed. Knowing it meant another useless attempt at conversation, his lips twisted, unhappy. 

“You haven’t been eating much,” she sighed, smoothing her skirts. Varian pointedly ignored her, head facing the wall and hands balled in the sheets, Ruddiger still sleeping peacefully in his lap. He knew, already, that she knew about sleepless nights with occasional, fitful sleep. He knew that she knew about the way he’d poke at the food and eat a bite before pushing it aside, distrusting and unable to eat. He hated feeling like that, a spoon in his hand and his stomach panging with hunger, unable to eat because of the lump in his throat and the pit in his gut.

“Varian,” She began, gentle, placing a hand on his leg, separated by blankets. Distant enough that he didn’t recoil, but reassuring enough that he grew annoyed at how comforted he felt. When he didn’t reply she called again, firm but not unkind, “Varian.” He frowned, and acquiesced, letting his gaze drift to her concerned face. (He hoped he looked less vulnerable than he felt. He hardly knew this girl and yet he felt too seen under her gaze, stripped of protection and left bare.)

“You don’t have to eat what we bring if you don’t want to,” She reassured. Varian blinked at her, willing shock off of his face. “But, know that we don’t want to hurt you in any way.” 

Varian frowned, nearly scowling, and nodded weakly, still hesitant. She didn’t push further, standing and walking away.

Varian is able to stomach a quarter of the small bowl of soup, that night. 

(When Nuru comes to collect the bowl, she beams at him, and Varian tries not to feel too sick at the strange cocktail of relief at the lessening of the dull ache that he’d grown accustomed to, and the awful feeling that came with betraying his own ideals.)

-

By the beginning of the second week in the future, Varian had an awful, sinking suspicion that his future self wasn’t fixing the machine at all . 

He was finally off bedrest, back to normal. (Nuru asserted that he continue to rest on account of his occasional cough and still runny nose, but Varian insisted he be let out of the stupid inn already.)

He was being dragged through the town the inn was in in search of clothes that better fit Galcrest’s weather. He grit his teeth at the memory, being pulled around by Yong. He wasn’t supposed to need clothes that fit the weather, because he was supposed to be gone already. He wasn’t supposed to have to adjust, because he was supposed to go home .

Yong grinned as he led him towards another clothing store, already bundled up for the weather. Varian, however, was less fortunate, protected only by his regular long sleeves and Ruddiger around his shoulders, the cold stinging at his extremities. “It’s so weird that we’re the same age,” Yong grinned, for the third time that day already. 

Varian sneered as they walked into the store, clinging to the festering annoyance at Yong’s childish enthusiasm and the awful disappointment in his future self. He choked down the warm feeling of fondness brewing, refusing to get close to any of the travelers, let alone this awful parallel to himself. The cold biting into him served as a cruel, yet needed reminder of just why he couldn’t let himself sit here in the future and enjoy himself, a warped mirror of the tedious trek to Corona. He, unlike his future self, couldn’t afford to sit and play house, because his father needed him. 

“Soo…” Yong began, jolting Varian out of his negative spiral, gesturing to the room at large and watching him intently. Always curious to know more, just like him. (Varian viciously discarded that thought.) “See anything you like?”

Varian sighed and looked around for a moment, eyes settling on something. A simple winter coat, its hood lined with fur. It was more Coronan looking than the other coats in the shop, enough so that it could be mistaken for a cloak rather than the coat it was, and for that short taste of home alone Varian was tempted to take it. It was maroon, but not obnoxiously so, more brown than red. Aware of Yong’s eyes on him, he walked over to the coat self consciously, examining it. The pockets were a good size, enough that he could keep chemicals inside.

“I’ll take this one,” He murmured, sparing Yong a glance, for once impassive but not unkind.

Yong beamed at him, sunny.

(When Hugo sees him in the coat, he bursts into cackles, laughing uproariously. Nuru covers her mouth with a hand and compliments his taste, even as her eyes crinkle with mirth. Varian can only flush in response, swallowed by his stupid oversized coat. Yong holds his arms out, as if presenting him to the group, eyes sparkling with admiration and good humor. Varian, awfully, feels an overwhelming fondness for these people roll over him. Hugo does a motion like he's wiping tears from his eyes, doubled over as Nuru politely giggles, and Yong is wiggling his fingers, like he’s showing off some grand wonder, but Varian finds good humor crawling into his chest for the first time in months and hates it.

Later, when Hugo’s giggles have subsided, he’ll let Varian know that he’ll have to come with them, though in not as polite terms. Nuru will smile at him warmly, and Yong will grin and say, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!”

Varian will sneer in lieu of a response. 

Then, reluctantly, in a way that will be almost nostalgic, Varian will trail after the three travelers and set out on their quest.)

Future

The sun was just beginning to rise over Corona, a cold breeze in the air and morning dewdrops still clinging to the grass beneath Varian’s feet. It was strange to be at Rapunzel’s tower, seeing as he had never really gotten to see it before its destruction. After taking a short nap in his lab, he spent a few hours making his way to the tower on foot, which had been mildly annoying. He only knew where it was because it was where Cassandra had decided to build her stronghold. He internally winced at the reminder. He could still remember the hulking, twisting mass of shining ebony rock that was her stronghold. The way the top stretched into smaller, castle-like towers, like shadowed hands outstretched for the moon. He had really thought that Rapunzel’s original tower must’ve been intimidating in that way, too, especially coupled with the stories of the woman who had kidnapped her. 

Instead, the tower was nothing but rubble, torn to shreds by the same black rocks that made up Cassandra’s Stronghold. He winced at the reminder and sighed, feeling restless despite his little sleep.

He leaned against one of the few remaining ruined, ivy ridden, walls of the old tower, arms crossed under his cloak in a way that was supposed to look mysteriously nonchalant. In reality, though you (hopefully) couldn’t tell just by looking at him, he was sweating profusely beneath his respirator and goggles. Would Rapunzel even show up? He was sure she should’ve, but maybe he was getting her confused with the Rapunzel of the future? Or maybe his sleep deprived planning was actually not very well thought out in hindsight, or –

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hushed voices nearing. He tried not to visibly perk up, but beamed under his disguise, anticipation and the thrill of a plan gone right humming in his chest. Forcing himself to keep still, he waited for their approach. 

Their murmurs came to a halt upon spotting him. “Hello, Princess,” he greeted, still leaning nonchalantly against the rubble. He turned to look at the three of them, trying to muster his suaveness without seeming too menacing. “…And company.”

Cassandra and Eugene immediately tensed up, the former subtly taking a defensive position in front of Rapunzel. And oh boy this was weird . The three of them were straight out of his memory, and though they all looked pretty much the way they did when Varian had seen them last, save for a few differences like Rapunzel’s hair, it was jarring. It was so weird to think that this Rapunzel was less than a year older than him at this point. 

“…Hello,” Rapunzel managed, wary despite the attempt at a smile on her face. She held up the letter that Varian had written just days ago. “I take it you’re the one who wrote this?” 

Varian stood fully, no longer leaning against the crumbling pile of stones that used to be a wall. Cassandra looked like she was ready to attack already, though Eugene wasn’t much better. It seemed like the three of them had grown tense and mistrustful by his younger self’s recent betrayal and lack of attack. “That’s me.”

Rapunzel opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Cassandra cutting in. “And just who are you exactly?” She frowned, eyes narrow with suspicion. Rapunzel shot a look at her, worried.

“A friend,” Varian nodded to her, hands clasping behind his back, voice impassive and posture relaxed. It was uncomfortable to put on a facade again, and he could feel himself slipping into his role like a second skin.

“And what kind of friend has to wear a disguise?” Eugene murmured, also eyeing him with similar wariness, agreeing with Cassandra in the face of a potential threat to Rapunzel. 

Rapunzel put reassuring hands on each of their shoulders, the wary smile on her face having twisted into a nervous look. “We should hear him out before jumping to conclusions,” she said, although the look on her face was just as tense as her companions’. Eugene and Cassandra didn’t seem to be quelled at all but reluctantly allowed her to begin negotiating.

“So…” Rapunzel began, now addressing Varian again. “You said you have information? About the rocks?” Varian managed a single nod in her direction. Although internally, he was panicking, he kept his shoulders set straight, the perfect picture of an unaffected, mysterious guide.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you everything just yet,” he sighed, apologetic, “But I can prove that I am trustworthy.” He tilted his head in their direction, trying his best to ignore the threatening glare in Cassandra’s eye and the sweat dripping down the back of his neck because of it. He was certain she wouldn’t do anything, but he wasn’t exactly fond of being at the wrong end of her sword.

“Why not?” Cassandra scowled, and it wasn’t the twisted, wild expression Varian had seen more recently, but the calm, collected glare of the princess’s handmaiden. “You claim that you want to help, but you’re keeping important information from us.” To be fair, she had a point, but he couldn’t very well say that he needed them to stick to a rough timeline he had already lived through.

Varian warily eyed her through the darkened lenses of his goggles and tried to appear unmoved. “I can’t tell you. But I can prove that I do know things.”

Cassandra unsheathed her sword and had the point to his throat in an instant. Varian laughed, nervous, but played it off as if it was nonchalant. “Woah, woah, woah. I don’t wanna fight,” he grinned underneath the respirator, Adam's apple bobbing threateningly against the sword’s perfectly sharpened tip.

Rapunzel gnawed at her lip behind Cassandra, Eugene watching the exchange intently next to her. “Wait,” she interjected, “You said you could prove yourself. How?” Varian felt relief rush through him. Things were going to plan. 

“Touch the rocks with your hair,” he said, gesturing in the general direction of the spires that were bursting forth from the tower’s ruined walls. Cassandra frowned at him. Eugene looked similarly disbelieving, eyes narrowed as if to scrutinize his disguise for some hidden tell. 

“Are you crazy? If you know as much as you claim, then you know that that’s not going to be safe for her,” Eugene scowled sensibly. Which, again, was fair. 

“Do you want proof or not?” Varian shot back, trying to calculate the risk of challenging them like this. 

Cassandra finally spoke up again from where she was threatening Varian. “I don’t think you should listen to him. We don’t even know who this guy is.” She frowned, and for a moment, he worried she might reach out and try to unmask him herself. Luckily, she was still the Cassandra that had a clear head, untainted by Zhan Tiri’s manipulation, and recognized that she shouldn’t antagonize a potential ally, as suspicious as he may be.

Rapunzel winced. “I’ll do it,” she nodded, face set and eyes determined. Varian shot a glance back at Cassandra, who’s expression had already soured at not being listened to. That was a bad sign. “You should step back.” She addressed the group, taking her hair down to approach the spikes jutting out of the tower. 

Cassandra shot him a look, as if to warn him not to try anything. Varian just raised his hands higher in defense, and obediently trailed behind her to a safer distance away. They watched from afar as Rapunzel hesitantly stepped closer to the rocks, her hair pooling around her, beginning to glow as it touched the ebony pillars that had overtaken the tower. The rocks also began to glow, terrifying and cerulean and awfully familiar, the ground shaking with ancient power.

Varian stumbled slightly on the shaking ground, Cassandra’s sword still too close for comfort. The air hummed with energy, static sparking against his skin, ice racing through his veins like lightning. Familiar overwhelming magic soared through the air, pressing down on him. He bit on the inside of his cheek and stood, steady, already having felt the sensation many times. The feeling brought back unwanted memories to the point that he half expected a blue-haired Cassandra to appear to fulfill her destiny.

Currently, Cassandra was not fulfilling her destiny but gritting her teeth, keeping her sword to his neck, unwavering despite the old power she’d probably only felt a couple times. Determination was glittering in her eyes, but Varian probably would’ve found it more admirable if her determination wasn’t being put into threatening him bodily harm.

Rapunzel visibly strained in effort as her hair blew outwards around her, glowing gold in the cloudy, dawn light. She grimaced, grunting with effort, her eyes shut with strain. Eugene twitched, wanting to stop her, but Varian interrupted him, his serious tone echoing over the rubble despite the princess’ noises of strain and the sound of rocks shifting under the earth. “Let her finish!”

Eugene clenched his jaw, hesitant, but did not run to Rapunzel like he wanted to. Luckily, because that was when rocks began to fire out of the earth around her, shooting out in rapid succession and destroying what little there was left of the tower. Varian watched with bated breath, in awe. It was certainly a lot less terrifying when not aimed at him. The rocks’ emergence were also more sporadic than they’d been the first time around, probably because Rapunzel wasn’t aiming for anything except to not skewer him, Cassandra, and Eugene. 

Finally, just like he’d planned for, the rocks began to topple like dominos, flattening into the ground beneath them until they became a smoothened path. Varian restrained himself from cheering, but internally celebrated as Rapunzel’s hair slumped, back to its regular golden color rather than the burning sunlight it’d become. Cassandra reluctantly stopped threatening him to hesitantly walk towards Rapunzel and steady her, seeing that the rush of magic had made her woozy. 

“Told you so,” Varian said, smug, channeling his inner Hugo. He needed to be flippant enough that they let him lead them, like how a certain someone had stolen important artifacts until he was allowed to travel with the group. ( Not to say that his smugness was fake, because, well, he did tell them so. ) 

“Seems like you’ve proved yourself, Creepy, but what exactly is your goal here?” Eugene asked, not as tense, but certainly not at ease. Varian frowned, unseen, not a fan of the new nickname. He sighed internally and kept up his lackadaisical attitude.

“Nothing. I just want to help,” he said, raising his hands again reassuringly to make up for his lack of facial expression. “The rocks will lead you somewhere important, now, and I can help guide you.”

Eugene raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Rapunzel looked up at him, Cass still holding her steady. Her face was set with determination. She fully stood, no longer leaning on her handmaiden for help, her shoulders set and her eyes sure. “Okay. We’ll go.” She confirmed, and internally Varian was pumping his fist, reveling in the familiar, satisfying feeling of a plan gone perfect.

Cassandra and Eugene looked at her and then looked at each other, in sync. “Raps, you–” Cassandra began, still looking at Varian suspiciously. 

Eugene cut her off, carefree, despite her glare at him. “Give us a second to chat.”

Varian watched them huddle up, discussing, and went back to leaning against the rubble casually. He stared at the pale sky, the sun barely peeking through the clouds. They talked, and he paid them no mind, knowing that Rapunzel was already set on joining the journey. 

Hope and anxiety alike swelled in his chest as he waited for his friends to finish their discussion, ready to set out on this new quest. Listening to the acquiescing sighs of Eugene and the reluctant acceptance of Cassandra, he let himself be optimistic, zoning out. He wondered how his younger self was faring in the future. Assuming that they swapped exactly, Varian sincerely hoped that he wasn’t being awful to his friends. The thought made him frown a little, drawn into a new train of thought. He hadn’t really considered it before, but his fourteen year old self wouldn’t expose his past, would he? At this point, the worst he’d done was giving everyone truth serum and betraying Rapunzel for the Sundrop, but he still didn’t really want Yong, Nuru and Hugo to know about that. 

Thinking about it, his fourteen year old self might not do well in any of his friends’ presence. His frown deepened further. Hugo was not only a reminder of Eugene, but his flippant attitude might be the kind of thing he wouldn’t have liked. Even worse, Yong would be an uncomfortable reminder of his clumsy naivete before that day in the blizzard. Varian’s brows furrowed with concern.

He grimaced at a sudden thought. How would he do in the presence of Nuru? By that time in his life, he’d developed a serious disdain of older sisterly types like Rapunzel, which applied to Nuru. Not to mention the fact that Nuru was also a princess. He probably would’ve distrusted her on principle, looking at her and only able to see Rapunzel, frozen in fear as she prioritized her kingdom. 

He had really, genuinely hated Rapunzel at the time, the symbol of the whole kingdom’s betrayal to him. Would his fourteen year old self expose his past? Try to get back to Corona, and wreak havoc there? He stared up at the cloudy, dawn sky, his prior optimism evaporated at the reminder of his mindset at the time. Before he could really work himself into anxiety, he was interrupted.

“By the way, what should we call you?” Rapunzel asked behind him, and Varian blinked in surprise beneath his goggles, his spiral interrupted.

He looked back, staring over his shoulder at her. He did not see wide eyes as she stood stock still, watching him be hauled away, the way he used to remember her. There was curiosity and suspicion in her eyes, but never, ever unkindness. The sun was beginning to show itself behind her, illuminating her hair with light, glowing gold. He smiled, fond and genuine, though weak, as he looked back at her. At the girl who would become his sister.

He thought of Rapunzel’s apology, of their reconciliation. 

Maybe everything would turn out okay.

“Me?” He grinned at her beneath his disguise, although he knew she couldn’t see it. 

“You can call me Mercury.”