Varian's Tale: A Tangled Fan Fiction

Chapter 3

I am in my lab. The black rocks are all over, my work table is a mess of different chemicals, notes, and doodles. My father stands with his back to me. We are arguing.
“Varian,” he says. “These rocks are dangerous.”
“I know, Dad,” I respond. “That's why I need to figure them ou-”
“No,” he says. “You need to leave them alone.”
“You know something,” I say, “don't you? What do you know?”
“I can't tell you, Varian,” my father says, his back still towards me.
“Why not?” I demand.
“You aren't ready,” he says simply.
“Yes I am,” I say.
“No you're not.”
“Why not?”
“You're too young and immature,” my father says. “You're not ready.”
I wince. Young, immature. I'm not young and immature. “No I'm not,” I say. I go to cross my arms, but my left one won't move. I look back at it, and my arm is encased in a thick yellow-y amber. “Dad!” I cry, panic filling my voice. “Dad, I'm stuck!”
My father spins around and sees me. “Don't panic, Varian,” he says, though it's a little late for that. “Don't panic.”
I reach my hand out toward him. “What do I do?” I ask. The amber has climbed to my knees.
“Don't worry,” my father says. “We'll figure it out.”
The amber has come to my waist now. “Don't leave me,” I beg.
“I won't,” he promises.
The amber continues climbing up me, and I can hardly move. I can feel tears streaming down my face, but I don't care. “Dad,” I say, the amber up to my shoulders.
“Yes?” he replies.
The amber is up to my neck now. “Daddy, I'm scared,” I say, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“I know,” my father says. “I know, Varian, I-”
I don't hear the end of the sentence. It's too late. I am completely encased in amber.
---
I woke up in a cold sweat, panting. I flew into a sitting position and yelped when I banged my head on something. I sat, trying to steady my breathing and trying to figure out where I was. Last I remembered, I was in the woods, on the ground, so where was I now?
I ran my hands through my hair as I looked around. I was sitting on a soft bed, under some blankets. I'd hit my head on some sort of shelf. The room was dark, and I saw a flickering light behind what I assumed was a door. I shoved the blankets off and went to go investigate.
I started towards the door, slowly. The room seemed to be spinning, so I stumbled into the door and hit my head. “Ow...” I mumbled.
I heard footsteps and backed away from the door, hoping not to get slammed in the face by it. I stumbled and tripped over my shoes, then fell to the ground with a thud. The person outside knocked, then opened the door.
“Ugh! You shouldn't be up yet,” a girl said, offering me a hand up.
“I'm fine,” I said, ignoring her hand and picking myself up off the ground.
The girl frowned at me. “Oh really?” she said. “You're fine? You know, fine doesn't normally fall on the ground.”
I scowled at her, then started coughing.
“Oh yeah, you're just great,” she said. “Well, since you're up, you want soup?”
I tried to stop coughing, but it was proving to be quite difficult.
The girl rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the other room. The room had low ceilings and a hole in the roof to let smoke from the fire out. I noticed some sort contraption over the hole, some sort of cover or something. The fire was in the center of the room, and there were two doors besides the one we'd some through. The rest of the wall space was devoted to shelves of plants and strange liquids.
“Sit,” the girl ordered, stopping next to the fire. I shot a glare at her and she returned it with an even fiercer one. I rolled my eyes and sat down.
I watched her as she served up two bowls of soup. She was a little shorter than me, but not much. Her eyes were big blue plates, and she had long dark hair with little braids scattered throughout. She looked about my age. Around fourteen.
She handed me a bowl of soup then sat across from me. “Thanks,” I muttered.
The girl nodded. “What's with the chains?” she asked.
I glanced down at my wrists and sure enough, they were still chained together. “Would you believe me if I said I was a dangerous criminal?” I asked, a smirk playing at my lips.
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not. Probably not.”
“Who’re you?” I asked, changing the subject.
“My name's Althea,” she answered. “But call me Thea. You?”
“Varian,” I answered, poking at my soup.
“Nice name,” Thea said. “And the soup isn't poisoned. It's just carrots and potatoes.”
I rolled my eyes. “I'm not hungry.”
“You should eat,” she said. “It'll help you get better.”
I shook my head and took a bite of my food. “There, happy?”
“Eh,” Thea shrugged. “Oh, also.” She stood and grabbed something off of a shelf. “Take a spoonful of this,” she ordered, handing me a spoon and a small jar of a pinkish liquid.
“What is it?” I asked, turning the had over in my hands.
“It'll help with your cough,” she said. “Now take it.”
“I'm not coughing,” I noted.
“Alright, Varian,” Thea said, hands on her hips. “I don't know your story, but I know that you need help.”
“I don't,” I interrupted.
“You do,” she said. “I mean, unless you were planning on freezing to death in the woods.” I shot a glare at her which she gladly returned. “So I'm going to help you. After you get better you can go gallivanting off into the woods and maybe run into someone who'll have pity on a poor, dirty, dying twelve year old. Until then, you're stuck with me, so have fun.”
“First off, I'm fourteen,” I stated. “Second, I don't gallivant, and third, I'm not dying.”
“Mhm, sure,” Thea said. “Now shut up, take your medicine and eat your soup.
I rolled my eyes and stifled a cough, which I'm pretty sure put a smug expression on Thea’s face. I glanced at the medicine and filled my spoon with it, hoping it wouldn't kill me. I took a deep breath and shoved the spoon in my mouth.
To say the medicine was disgusting would be an understatement. The moment the liquid touched my tongue, my mouth was filled with the taste of death. Well, not quite but close enough. It tasted like someone had mixed rotting eggs with one of my experimental chemicals, then rolled it around in a pig pen that hadn't been cleaned since before I was born. I gagged and started coughing.
I heard Thea laughing, but was too busy coughing to glare. She came over and patted me on the head, saying, “Good boy.”
I shot a glare at her after I'd finished coughing. “What's in that?” I demanded.
“Yeah, it's disgusting,” Thea agreed. “But you'll be thanking me later.”
“I highly doubt that,” I grumbled.
“You will,” she promised. “Now eat your soup so you can go back to sleep. It'll help you get better.”
I rolled my eyes, but complied. I was kinda hungry anyways and the sooner I got “better” the sooner I could get out of here. Out of Corona. Then, maybe, just maybe, I could figure out how to save my dad.