Took me long enough, huh?
Thanks, everyone. This is all you.
- Appleh
Eugene Fitzherbert had trouble sleeping. It seemed rather pathetic to him, honestly, but the beds were so soft here that, after a lifetime of crashing among a pile of orphans on a dirty, hard, mattress or of curling up in the open, the cloud-soft mattresses kept him up.
Well, not just the mattresses. Dreams of death and fear haunted him most nights, though visions of Rapunzel and her glowing smile could dispel much of the darkness.
Nightmares aside, Eugene Fitzherbert did not belong on a delicate mattress covered in soft sheets in a beautiful room full of expensive, ridiculously ornate things. He'd been given a full pardon, but he still wondered if the guards were tempted to check his pockets. Eugene knew it wouldn't be stealing; the trinkets and clothes were his now, as he'd been sort of adopted by the royal family. He didn't live in the family quarters, but had his own rooms in a separate area where visiting dignitaries would stay. Apparently his rooms were right next to where the queen's sister and her family stayed when they came to visit, although it looked as if no one had been there in years. Eugene supposed it might have been hard for the queen to see nieces and nephews running around her palace while her own daughter was missing.
Eugene sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He'd gotten it cut yesterday and it felt odd to have it be so short and clean for so long. He heard a clink in the distance and looked over at the cracked door. He stood up and pulled on a robe, unconsciously rubbing the sun emblem on his chest. He walked silently to the door and pushed it open all the way, peering out into the hallway.
It was empty.
Eugene listened for a long moment, hearing another clink. He turned and headed up the hallway, passing the abandoned family quarters, and towards another empty set of rooms. He heard a shuffle and a small crash and sped up, breaking into a jog as he heard a thick sob. He saw a cracked door with a slit of light cutting into the dark hallway and broke into a jog, opening the door swiftly.
Rapunzel was on her hands and knees, mopping up a jar of spilled water, tears running down her face. There was paint on her hands and night gown. She had a smudge of red paint belong her left eye and there was a patch of her short brown hair stuck together with black paint.
"Eugene." She whispered, leaning forward, almost kowtowing to him, pressing her forehead to her clenched hands.
"Rapunzel." Eugene said, moving forward and kneeling next to her. She was shaking, one hand still holding the rag she'd used to clean the water, "Rapunzel, give me the rag." He gently pulled it from her hand and lifted the bucket upright and placed the rag inside.
"Eugene..." Rapunzel murmured, "Eugene, she's everywhere." She said, lifting her eyes to the walls.
Eugene looked around, wrapping his arms around Rapunzel. Large, twisted, red and black figures coiled themselves along the wall, encircling a golden flower and a bleeding, red sun. "Oh Rapunzel..."
"Eugene, she's in my dreams every night." Rapunzel sobbed, "She's always there, calling me "her flower", telling me to sing, stabbing you over and over and over."
Eugene tightened his grip on her, remembering the haze of pain and fear, watching Rapunzel be dragged farther and farther away from him. He remembered seeing her face, all tear-streaked and beautiful, hovering over him.
"Does painting help?" Eugene asked, looking at the almost demonic shades of Mother Gothel on the walls.
"Not really," Rapunzel said, running a free hand thorough her hair, smudging more red paint onto it, "but I don't know what else to do. Nothing helps. I can't stay busy enough to get past it. She's always there, telling me I'm too immature and I'm not beautiful or-"
"Rapunzel, she's gone." Eugene said, tipping her chin up to look into her green eyes, "She can't lie to you any more. She was always lying to you. You are beautiful and smart and wonderful and loving and you are not hers. She can't keep you or control you anymore."
"Thanks Eugene." Rapunzel said, smiling and leaning forward to wrap her arms around him.
"Do you have bad dreams, too, Eugene?" Rapunzel asked quietly, her breath light against his neck.
"Sometimes." Eugene said, "Sometimes I'm still tied to that boat or facing my death or seeing you hurt, but then I dream about us. About being able to wake up and see you. Dreaming about being able to see you every day as long as I'm not too annoying."
Rapunzel laughed thickly, leaning back and looking up at him. "How do you make the bad dreams go away?" She asked quietly.
"It's not about making them disappear. It's about replacing them with new dreams." Eugene said, leaning forward and kissing Rapunzel's forehead.
"It's about new dreams... okay..." Rapunzel said, "I used to be able to make my hair glow. I can change my dreams."
"Of course you can." Eugene said.
Five years later, Eugene Fitzherbert sat up sharply. That had been the worst nightmare he'd had in years: Mother Gothel and the twins had Rapunzel tied to the mast of a boat and kept clipping her hair and cutting at her skin over and over and he was chained and powerless and in absolute agony. He rubbed his face, glancing at the ticking clock next to his bedside table, where Pascal was curled up and snoring. His wedding band caught the light as he saw it was nearly three in the morning.
Eugene lay back down and rolled over to face his wife, his eyes tracing over her beautiful face: long eyelashes dusting her freckled cheeks, her brown hair pressed against her pillow, her face relaxed and free of the the worries of politics or family. His eyes traveled down to the swell in her night gown between them. He reached out and pressed one hand lightly against her belly, feeling his child gently press a hand or foot against his palm. He knew what would be strong enough to keep away the darkest nightmares.
Eugene Fitzherbert looked down at his hand for another long moment, then murmured to the child beyond, "You are my new dream."
