A Most Precious Treasure (9/11)
The dungeon is even darker than the underground passageway. Not a pleasant discovery at all.
“And you thought this was the proper way for your buddy to treat royalty?” Eugene demands of the dragon.
Fortunately for Eugene, Witzig doesn’t blow a breath of fiery instant death in his direction. Perhaps because Witzig doesn’t have much of a temper. Perhaps because dragon fire is a myth. (Although, really, with all the myths floating around, it would be better to err on the side of caution here.)
The dragon simply frowns in response. “He told me they needed to remain hidden because the thief in Corona was too crafty and cunning. Keeping them in the main castle would have been obvious.” He huffs. “Clearly, he overestimated your skills.”
Eugene props his hands on his hips in affront. “I’ll have you know that I was Corona’s most wanted thief!”
“My brother said that the princess knocked you out with one blow from her frying pan,” counters Witzig, through a toothy smirk.
“He wasn’t expecting for me to be in the tower,” Rapunzel rushes in to defend him.
“A thief of such caliber should always be prepared.”
Eugene’s grip tightens around the handle of the reclaimed frying pan at the sight of Pascal laughing hysterically on his brother’s shoulder. The dragon’s criticism shouldn’t bother him, he knows; after all, he’s been Eugene for years now. His thieving days are long gone; Flynn Rider is nothing more than a thing of the past. Except when a king and a queen need rescuing.
Right, except for that.
Still, there’s a small part of him (although not all that small, unfortunately) that is offended by the dragon’s teasing. Eugene had spent years working on his reputation. He’d been legendary! There is no reason for this simpleton of a dragon to not be overwhelmed with awe while in the presence of as a master thief such as himself.
Or rather, there is no reason Eugene wants to admit to.
He scowls. As far as he is concerned, this conversation is over. In the next hour or so, it’ll be clear just who is the master thief in this castle.
Rapunzel leans close and murmurs, apropos. “They do look like brothers, don’t they?”
Eugene blinks at Rapunzel. She smiles back. He obligingly turns his attention to the reptiles. He squints. Then he glares. But no matter how long he looks at the pair, outside of their green hue, there is absolutely nothing that shows a family resemblance. “Sorry, not seeing it.”
Silence is their constant companion as they continue walking. Mold and mildew cover the walls; the cobblestone floor is cracked and uneven. Rapunzel reaches for his hand as the ground’s unevenness makes it nearly impossible to walk.
“This particular passage has not been used in nearly a century,” Witzig explains. “I doubt the prince even knows it exists.” He stops walking momentarily. “Perhaps, Princess, you would be more comfortable riding on my back than attempting to walk this rough terrain.”
Eugene notices the invitation hadn’t been extended to him.
Rapunzel lets go off his hand and gleefully climbs onto the dragon’s back. Eugene can’t say he blames her lack of reluctance; after a journey on a ship filled with the sea’s most notorious pirates and a trek through the creepiest forest in existence, what’s a ride on a dragon?
“I trust that a thief of your skill can manage the way,” Witzig says. Eugene doesn’t miss the tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
“What’s there to manage?” he retorts as he carefully navigates around a slime-covered rock.
Rapunzel gives him a wave as Witzig once again takes the lead. And here I thought Max had maxed out my daily allowance of Annoyance. But it turns out there are previously unplumbed depths to Eugene’s irritation.
The path trips him up twice, but thankfully Witzig is too busy showing Rapunzel how skilled he is at wiggling his bat-like ears to notice. Finally, they approach a cross section. A narrow hallway cuts through the tunnel. Eugene glances left and then right, noting with relief a small beam of moonlight streaming down from a small overhead window further down the hall.
Their guide nods to the right. “The prince took them down that way. I’m sorry but I don’t know their exact location.”
“It’s alright,” Rapunzel assures him, sliding down off of his back and into Eugene’s outstretched arms. “You’ve done so much for us already.”
“My pleasure.”
Pascal trills something that, by his tone, Eugene is sure is meant to be witty.
The dragon chuckles. “I’ll hold you to that. I’m very interested in the story behind this new name of yours, Pascal.” Family reunion now tentatively scheduled, Witzig further offers, “I will stay here and keep an eye out for anyone.”
Rapunzel pats the dragon on his massive shoulder before taking Eugene’s hand. Wary of the dwindling store of oil in the lamp’s base, Eugene moves quickly. He holds the lantern out as they move down the hall, peering into one cold, uninviting cell after another, looking for signs of the king and queen.
Eugene moves silently but Rapunzel evidently doesn’t feel that she can rely solely on the dim light of the flame. “Momma? Daddy?” she whispers through the rusty, barred window of each door. Finally, near the end of the hall, next to a staircase that is more rock and dirt than actual carved steps, they hear the sound of movement. Rapunzel pulls Eugene forward and he obligingly lifts the light. Within the depths of the cell, something that is not a stone wall is illuminated. Two somethings. With glittery objects upon their heads.
“Momma? Daddy?” she nearly whines with excitement.
“Rapunzel?” The king’s reply coincides with a feminine gasp and then suddenly, the area surrounding the cell door is a very crowded place indeed. The king and queen press close to the bars, squinting in the light as they reach for their daughter.
Overcome with joy and relief and heartache, tears pool in Rapunzel’s eyes as she clasps their hands through the rusty bars. “Are you alright?”
Eugene takes in their appearance. Except for the bruise on the king’s right cheek, they both seem to be uninjured. Perhaps that dragon had been right, maybe that fool of a prince still thinks he has a chance to marry Rapunzel.
“We are fine.” The king gives his daughter a reassuring smile before turning towards Eugene, frowning darkly. “But what do the two of you think you’re doing here?”
“Rescuing you!” Rapunzel supplies joyfully.
Eugene tries not to fidget under the king’s expressive scowl.
“You should be back at the castle! Safe!” the queen whispers urgently, clearly horrified to see her daughter here, now. “Mister Fitzherbert should have known better than to-“
“Let me come and find you all by myself. And I would have done it, too,” Rapunzel defends him.
Truer words were never spoken.
“The guard are on their way,” Eugene offers, hoping to placate the king. “They should be here soon. But we need to get you both out of here before Banale gets any bright ideas to up the ante.”
The queen whispers to her daughter, her tone fearful, “You shouldn’t be here, darling. Prince Banale is determined to have your crown.”
“And me,” Rapunzel amends. The queen’s silence speaks volumes. She reaches up, scraping the sleeve of her dress on the filthy bars and caresses Rapunzel’s cheek.
“This is no place for you,“ her father begins. “Your mother is right. You should not be here-“
“Neither should you,” she whispers, tears pooling in her eyes.
Her mother’s hand drops. The king leans a bit closer to the bars. “Dearest, you must leave.” He touches his crown subconsciously. “There isn’t much time, little one. Soon he will realize the truth-”
He stops suddenly, looking at Eugene.
“It’s alright, Daddy. Eugene knows about the crowns’ power. When Momma was taken, I told him.”
The king doesn’t look too happy at the idea that she had shared the family secret with Eugene, but doesn’t admonish his daughter. He takes off his crown and his wife does the same. He holds them out to Rapunzel between the bars. “Take these back to Corona where they will be safe.”
Rapunzel shakes her head. Eugene can’t help but to smirk at her father’s dumbfounded expression. “We’re not going anywhere without you.”
“Mr. Fitzherbert...” the queen begins.
Eugene shrugs helplessly. Hey, she’s the princess. I have to follow her orders. Instead of standing around being a lantern holder, Eugene crouches down to get a better look at the lock. Iron. Solid. Old. Rusty. The rust poses a problem as the tools he carry with him are made of softer, more flexible metal and it’s going to take a lot of force to budge these aged mechanisms.
Before he can get pulled back into the family debate continuing over his head, he feels a tiny tug on his trouser leg. He looks down at Pascal who is nodding in the direction where Witzig is standing. “I hate to leave this stimulating discussion, but I have a dragon who’s trying to get my attention.”
He hands Rapunzel the lantern and strides back over to the dragon, who is scowling mightily.
“I believe this will help you in your efforts to retrieve the key from the prince.” Witzig drops a guard’s uniform at Eugene’s feet.
Eugene eyes the clothing suspiciously. “You didn’t just eat the person who wore this, did you?” He picks the tunic up off the ground, wincing at the strand of dragon drool that clings to the material.
The dragon huffs indignantly. “Of course not! I had my brother help me pick the lock to gain access to the old dungeon armory!”
“It was a joke.” Eugene explains. He then faces Pascal. “See? Those thieving skills do come in handy every once in a while, don’t they?” He winks. “Well done.”
The frog flicks his tongue out, looking very smug and superior. Well, as smug and superior as a six-inch lizard can look.
He grabs the rest of the clothing and heads back to the tunnel entrance. Looking back at Pascal, he orders, “No peeking.”
The frog laughs and Eugene smiles. Here in this horrible place, the moment of levity is needful.
Quickly, he changes into the stolen garb. He grabs the helmet, which will do an effective job of masking most of his face, and goes to show off his disguise to the royal family.
“Well, it’s no potato sack,” he says, approaching the three of them, “but I think it’s going to work.”
Rapunzel looks at him quickly, before doing a double-take. A smitten smile passes over her lips as she takes in his outfit.
She is giving him the once over!
“Don’t tell me you like a man in a uniform,” he says dryly. He crosses his arms for good measure.
“You look… very handsome.”
He can’t hold back the groan that escapes his lips. Great, she does have a thing for uniforms. It figures. This probably means there will be all sorts of offhanded references about joining the elite royal guard now. He holds up a finger. “Don’t start getting any ideas, Princess,” he says warningly. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I’ve got a key to steal.”
*******************
Eugene doesn’t know what kind of man Prince Banale is (there’s absolutely no way he’s going to acknowledge her comparison of them from earlier), but once he sees the prince standing in the middle of the castle’s third floor study, he is forced to make an admission that rattles his soul: the prince is a handsome man. Maybe even more handsome than Eugene himself!
…
Nah, he quickly assures himself, that’s pretty much impossible.
He pulls his gaze from the man’s face and scans the room from the safety of his discreet position just outside it, noting the presence of one other man besides the prince as Eugene looks for anything old-key shaped.
Ah hah!
There, on the table in the center of the room, the key in question sits alone, beckoning the former thief.
Scowling at the prince who is idly leafing through what appears to be some charts spread out over an old, dilapidated table beneath an assortment of mounted deer and elk heads, Eugene evaluates the situation.
This guy must think he’s got it in the bag to be so confident.
It’s gonna be fun raining on his parade.
So, to work! Setting foot in the room is his only option. With a quick shuffle, an effective distraction and a quick sleight of hand, then the key could be his. Right. Plan? Check. Implementation? … Working on it.
With a frustrated huff, the prince begins pacing the room. He runs his hand through his perfectly styled blonde hair. Unfortunately, the gesture only improves the hairstyle. Eugene’s stomach rolls with disgust despite there being no ship or sea in sight.
"Your highness…" The weary reprimand comes from the only other individual in the room, Lord Rein. "Please remain calm. Our plan will succeed."
"Will it?" Banale challenges. "We don’t seem to be making much progress."
"The princess’ crown will be found as will the princess. Surely Corona is a prize worth waiting for."
"I hate waiting."
Thank you, Captain Obvious. Eugene smirks.
"I still don’t know where we went wrong," he continues in an unbecoming whine. "I was charming. I was heroic. She should have been easily swayed toward accepting my marriage proposal."
The lord lays a hand on the young man’s shoulder. "We knew she was… different."
"Yes, I am well aware of the company she keeps." His distain permeates the air.
Eugene can’t think of better company than himself. However, it seems that the prince disagrees with his silent assessment. Not wanting to add yet another reason to hate the prince to his ever-growing collection, Eugene makes his entrance. In this uniform he looks just like any number of other guards. He’d passed many on his way here. Still, he tilts his chin just so, allowing the helmet to shade his eyes more effectively. "Excuse me, your Majesty." And then with a slight twitch of his chin in Rein’s direction, he adds, "My lord."
Lord Rein looks up expectantly and with some relief. "Any news to report?"
"No word of the princess, my lord, but..." He walks to the middle of the room. The table is almost within his reach. Now, it’s time for a little distraction. "A sighting of the thief has been reported."
"Has he?" Rein muses. "Here in Trist?"
Eugene nods. "He attempted to cross the border. Our soldiers are in pursuit."
"Hah!" Banale crows and shares a look of triumph with a gloating Rein. In that single moment, Eugene takes his chance and palms the key from the table. He leaves behind a piece of a broken hinge that he’d found in the dungeons. With any luck, neither man will notice that the object on the table is not the one they’d put there for a good fifteen minutes. Maybe more. That, Eugene thinks silently, is how a master works.
"We’ll have him soon! And with that simpleton out of our way…!" Banale rejoices.
Rein argues gently. "Yes, although before he’s disposed of, he might be of some use to us in luring the princess to Trist." The lord leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. "Yes, you see, your Majesty? It’s all coming together. Patience is the key."
At the mention of the key, Eugene quickly distracts the prince from glancing in the direction of that very object. "If I may, sir, I would like to confirm the details."
"Yes, yes, go," Banale bids him with a listless wave of his hand. "Leave us."
"Yes, your Majesty. My lord." Bowing, Eugene retreats from the room, key in hand.
This is almost too easy! Eugene nearly makes it out of the door before Rein calls out to him. Maybe not too easy, he quickly amends. He wonders if uniforms come with built-in warmers: his collar is suddenly feeling strangely hot.
The lord stands, giving him a considering look, and crosses the room toward him. "You look very familiar, soldier. What is your name?"
"Bartimus. Morphy Bartimus." Was that his voice that had squeaked? "Sir."
"Hm… I don’t believe I’ve heard of you…"
"I don’t usually patrol the castle, sir, but given the circumstances…"
"Yes, we’re all a bit out of our element, aren’t we?"
"Oh, let him be, Rein," the prince demands. "You and I have things to discuss."
The lord, however, is stubborn. He continues examining Eugene very closely. "I am almost certain…"
Several tense seconds pass before the older man finally snaps fingers. "Ah hah! Your brother is in the third battalion, isn’t he? Captain Bartimus, I believe."
Relief makes his easy chuckle sound loud and awkward to himself. "You caught me, sir. The military life is in our blood."
Rein slaps him on the shoulder. "As is gambling, I’d wager. Tell him he still owes me an ale the next time he sees me. I may be old, but I’m not that forgetful."
Eugene nods. "I will pass on the message, my lord."
Then, before the old man has another brainwave that contradicts the first, Eugene turns around and leaves the room. It’s time to save the king and queen.
*****
Pascal feels Eugene’s booming footsteps vibrate up through the grimy dungeon floor before he actually sees him. He scampers up Rapunzel’s oddly smelling clothes and stands on her shoulder as the familiar man in an unfamiliar uniform comes bounding down the hall.
"Did you get it?" she whispers hopefully.
"You have to ask?" He flashes a confident smile at her and dangles the key between his fingers. "I think I’m offended."
Pascal lets out a sigh of relief. They really are going to save the king and queen!
"You’re going to have to teach me how to do that next," Rapunzel forgets.
"What? Pretend to be a soldier? Sorry to disappoint you, Blondie, but I’m pretty sure the uniform won’t fit," he teases. Pascal rolls his eyes at the thief’s lighthearted mood.
Eugene strides over to the locked door and slides the key inside. Seconds later, the lock snaps open with a resounding clang!
"Your Majesties," Eugene murmurs, bowing as he opens the door.
The king and queen rush to Rapunzel and Pascal quickly moves out of the way. Hugs are all well and good, but this one looks to be a mite too enthusiastic for the reptile to handle. He dodged and weaves thinking longingly of the relative safety of Eugene’s borrowed jacket.
"I’ve got you, frog." Eugene plucks him from Rapunzel’s shoulder and sets him on his own. "You know how they are about hugging," he whispers with a sardonic smile.
Pascal watches the family reunion for a second before frowning. They need to leave soon before the prince discovers his key is missing! He clears his throat.
Rapunzel is the first to pull away. "Pascal is right. We need to get going." She looks at him. "You know the plan, right?"
Pascal gives her a confident nod.
"Plan? What plan?" asks Eugene.
"I’ll explain on the way." She grabs his hand and Pascal pitter-patters down to the stone floor. He follows them to the junction in the hall where Witzig is still keeping watch. Once he can no longer see his friends, he turns to his brother.
"Come along. We won’t have much time until the prince realizes that someone has taken the key," urges Witzig.
Pascal grabs onto his brother’s scaly neck tightly. It felt so different than Rapunzel’s! He had almost forgotten the feel of the leathery-like skin of his brethren underneath his fingers.
In keeping with the Plan, Witzig takes a different route than the way they had come, stomping down the hall and up a second set of gloomy staris. "Your princess friend seems to care about you deeply."
The chameleon chirps in the affirmative.
"And you care for her just as much. Is that why you never returned to Berk?"
Pascal shrugs. There are lots of reasons for why he chose - and continues to choose - to stay with Rapunzel: he knows it’s silly, but he always feels a little small in his homeland. Besides, he enjoys listening to Rapunzel sing to the flowers in the garden, and, of course, he loves having the chance to startle Eugene when he is practicing his proposal in the mirror. But, most of all, he simply feels at home when he is with Rapunzel.
His brother doesn’t comment on his non-answer. The time for small talk is over. It’s up to them now to do their part now that Eugene has managed his. Witzig turns the corner and slouches out into the main hall of the castle. It’s not nearly as large or as elegant as the one Pascal is used to. He turns up his reptilian nose at a threadbare tapestry of a roaring lion.
The moment of silence doesn’t last long though. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Pascal closes his eyes and camouflages perfectly into his brother’s body.
Several guards greet Witzig politely, but none of them seem to think it odd to see a dragon walking through the castle. Pascal had been afraid to put too much stock in his brother’s assurances on this point.
After the guards pass, Witzig whispers, "Everyone knows how much I like the Royal Library. Lots of cook books." Witzig winks.
They walk past a large window and Pascal takes the opportunity to evaluate the layout of courtyard below and the kingdom beyond the castle’s outer wall. He narrowed his eyes as he scans for his four-legged friend…
Ah! There!
He tugs on his brother’s ear and nods in Maximus’ direction.
"They are making faster progress than I thought," replies Witzig as he takes in the sight of a contingent of armed troops being led by a white horse over the wasteland of Trist. "We must hurry before the guards see them."
Witzig’s steps are more hurried now as he trudges through the castle. He turns the corner and nearly knocks into a startled-looking young man.
"Your majesty," Witzig says, bowing slightly. Pascal slams his eyes shut, hoping the distracted human hadn’t noticed an extra pair of eyes on the back of his brother’s neck. "I apologize for the-"
"Never mind that!" the young man shouts. "Have you seen a man dressed up in a guard’s uniform?"
"There were several guards in the main foyer," Witzig supplies unhelpfully.
"No! Not them!" He takes a deep breath and gathers his composure. "There is a man named Flynn Rider here in the castle! We believe he is attempting to kidnap the King and Queen of Corona. If you see anyone who is unfamiliar, stop him at all costs. He is to be considered very dangerous."
Pascal feels his brother’s silent rumble of laughter run through him, but thankfully, the sound does not escape his lizard lips.
"If I see such a dangerous man , I will report it to you immediately," assures Witzig, craftily.
Pascal listens as the prince hurries away, in the direction of the dungeon. He worries for Rapunzel. Hopefully, things are going as planned for her and the others…
Witzig turns towards Pascal. "I thought you told me his name was Eugene Fitzherbert."
Pascal waves off his brother’s question. There will be time for stories about Eugene and his Flynn Rider days later.
He opens his eyes a smidgeon, checking to see if there are any more unexpected people barreling down the hallway. Fortunately for the brothers, the passage is empty. Witzig heads down to the end where there is a large window.
He turns back to Pascal. "Are you ready?"
Pascal wishes he had something to tie around his waist, but the best he can do is wedge himself carefully between the ridges in Witzig’s back. He nods and holds on to the closest scale tightly.
The dragon opens the window and jumps out without hesitation. He swoops over the courtyard where the prince’s guards are clearly searching for someone.
Pascal opens his eyes as Witzig rushes through a patch of fog. He had forgotten how fast his brother can fly! It almost makes him wish he’d inherited their mother’s wings instead of their father’s lengthy tongue! They coast over the castle wall just as the soldiers on the parapet notice movement in the distance. A shout goes out. Now it’s a race against time. If Pascal can get to Max before the troops can organize themselves, they might still have a chance! He nudges his brother towards Maximus and his company of soldiers.
"I see them, brother!" the dragon shouts back. With a flap of his wings, he glides toward their quarry.
Witzig lands in the middle of the stony path that winds through the murky and undernourished forest, blocking the Coronese Army from going any further.
Pascal hears Maximus’ startled horsey growl, laden with a clear command to attack. The chameleon scrambles up his brother’s shoulder before the impatient horse attempts to ram the unexpected road block. Pascal perches on Witzig’s brows, and standing tall, waves frantically to Maximus.
At the sight of the chameleon, the horse relaxes marginally. The questioning nicker immediately follows.
Witzig explains quickly, "I am here to escort you to the castle gates. But we must hurry. The prince is already aware of escape plan and the guards have noticed your approach. Hurry!"
Before Maximus can command the troops into action, two unfamiliar people suddenly emerge from the midst of the royal guards of Corona. "Witzig," an older man with a grey beard asks with authority, "what is going on?"
The dragon bows deeply and abruptly, causing Pascal to fly through the air. Fortunately, Maximus is there and able to catch him before he hits the ground. Pascal scowls and rounds on his brother, ready to give him an earful he won’t soon be forgetting!
However, Witzig speaks first. "Your Majesties," he greets the strangers. "You have returned from the Crusades! You have been greatly missed these last five years."
Pascal’s scolding goes unsqueaked. He turns toward the newcomers, astonished.
The older man -the king, Pascal assumes-appraises his brother. "What has become of the kingdom in our absence? Why is our ally marching against Lord Rein, the steward of the lands?"
The dragon hurriedly informs the King and Queen of Trist, "It would seem that in your absence, the prince has acted... rashly." Witzig quickly gives them an account of everything that had happened, including the kidnapping of the monarchs of Corona.
As his brother is explaining everything, Maximus gives him a questioning look -Are the others safe? The chameleon shrugs. He hopes so.
The king’s booming response to Witzig abruptly ends Pascal’s conversation with the horse. "Come," he says, marching towards the gate of the castle. "It is clear that we have been gone far too long."
Before they could reach the entrance, hundreds of booming footsteps shake the ground. Pascal scurries up and hides in Maximus’ mane. He peaks through the mess of hair and guards swarming from the gate, looking an awful lot like those angry bees that had chased him after he accidently knocked over their hive a few months back. Suddenly, Pascal wishes he had stayed with Rapunzel. At least she had her frying pan!
"Witzig!" one of the men shouts, flabbergasted. "What is the meaning of this betrayal?"
With one large step, his brother moves out of the way and reveals the king and queen. The man stumbles slightly. "Your Majesties," he stutters.
The older man steps in front of Witzig. "Stand down, Aldwyn. It is high past time us to return to our throne."
There is no anger on the guard’s face. In fact, Pascal notices as he morphs into his usual green hue, the man seems happy at the king’s declaration.
He bows lowly. The other guards follow his lead. "It is a grand day to see the two of you back in Trist, your Grace." He straightens before allowing the king to lead the men towards the gates. "We must hurry before the other battalion finds the others and carry out the Prince's plan."
Chapter 9